What's a Boy Like You Doing in a Hell Like This? [Francis]

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

    My words are my faith...
        To hell with our good name...

No matter how many times Gilbert Beilschmidt came down to the Underground’s cells, he could never feel comfortable there. Sure, he might put up one heck of a performance, every stitch of clothing perfectly in place, the arrogant smirk of a high powered businessman anchored firmly on my lips. He had to play the role to convince the guards, the government officials, and any other… interested parties that he was exactly what he claimed to be—an opportunistic businessman, just interested in cheap labor and the bottom line. He hated it there, he hated the chill of the cells, the dank smell of the earth, of unwashed bodies. He hated the sight of so many people, in various states of neglect, he hated the way they averted their eyes, and he hated the feeling of fear and resentment that he could sense from them. But if he stood any chance of helping them, of helping West, he had to know exactly what exactly he was working with. Which mutants could he count on to work with him? Who might he be able to trust?

But so far, Gilbert didn’t have much to work with. Most of the mutants he’d spoken to didn’t trust him. Not that he could blame them. There were only so many abuses a man can take before trust becomes a luxury few could afford. Gil bit back a sigh. If he wanted this factory to be successful, he had to prove to Arcadia that the mutants could be trusted to work outside of the Underground. To do that, he had to find mutants that he could trust, and that would be willing to trust him… and it was proving to be a harder task than Gil had ever imagined. He’d been down here three times and so far, he’d had only moderate success engaging the mutants. Today wasn’t any better and the German was just about to give up when a flash of golden hair caught his eye, sending a sharp spike of recognition through him. Waving away the guards that had been escorting him out, Gil approached the dimly lit cell, his ears filling with the sound of his own blood pounding. It wasn’t possible, he kept telling himself as he approached the cell. There’s no way he could be one of the poor souls locked away in this purgatory. No way.

But as Gil wrapped his pale fingers around the unforgiving iron bars, he couldn’t deny the truth. Even though it had been years since he’d last laid eyes on the inhabitant of the cell, they had been mere children, there was no mistaking that mop of golden curls, that graceful frame even as it lay on the ragged pallet. His hands tightened on the bars, bleached knuckles contrasting sharply against the black iron, as he steeled himself for the next few moments. Did he have the courage to confront this mutant, to deal with the fact that another loved one was trapped in this cruel system and Gil could do nothing to free him from it? Part of him wanted to escape before the man turned around, but to do so would be nothing short of cowardice. And Gilbert Beilschmidt was not a coward. He knelt down beside the cell, glaring at the guards until they melted away from sight— he’d convinced the government that he needed privacy in order to accurately assess the potential workers before he ever set foot into the Underground. Only when several moments passed and Gilbert was assured of their privacy, did he speak up.

“So… this explains why none of my letters got answered…” He murmured, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and smacking it rhythmically against the heel of his other hand. “Gotta admit, Francis… I never expected to see you in a place like this. No wonder your parents were so vague on your whereabouts.”

word count: 650
tags: Francis L. Bonnefoy
notes:And it begins...

by worldie for kat

[Francis L. Bonnefoy]

Francis had always had a fastidious nature, even when he was younger. He didn’t mind getting dirty, not at all, but there was nothing better to him than being able to sit in a warm bath an just lazily run the wash cloth over himself brush the dirt away. That was an indulgence now, one that he rarely got to partake in. Being clean was a chore anymore, one that he both hated and tolerated. It was hate because the water was cool at the best, and freezing at the worse, cold enough to turn his skin red and make it near impossible to get warm. Especially in the cool underground in such as the cell that was his home. Never would have thought he would have ended up here, locked up like some prisoner for things he had no control over. But even in this hopeless situation, there was one way Francis knew that he could control his fact and escape the grungy living he so despised; escaped the fighting he preferred not to do.

He had to stay as clean as he could, never mind how uncomfortable it made him in the process. Staying clean appealed to people, and following instructions made him that much more valuable to people, especially those that valued a companion for their looks who knew when to keep his mouth shut. Especially the latter. He could carry on a conversation with pretty much anyone that wanted to buy him, but he had learned that flattery got you everywhere. Follow the whims of his masters and he would be well rewarded with times of freedom to plant a garden or even to just enjoy the sunlight. He hated being someone’s pet, something someone had to show their status to others… though he preferred that to when someone hired him for a job and didn’t let him get cleaned afterwards because after all, most people believed that Mutants loved to be dirty, that it was in there nature to stay as dirty as they could.

Francis had become jaded in a way to the ways of humans. Most he met only cared about themselves or what could show there status. Even then, he was regarded with scorn and disdain. There were a few who cared about him as a person, but those were few and far between. To him though, he had made it a game to himself, see what he could get people to pay for him, act a certain way to ensure most never realize what he was actually thinking or feeling. Fill the part that needed filling and leave the rest up to the contractor. He had to do something to keep himself entertained.

Sitting up in the uncomfortable bed, he contemplated the dream he just had, one of many such tortures that plagued his beauty sleep. The dreams he could live with, but it was always the feelings that the dreams brought that squeezed his heart tight and made his chest hurt, made him afraid of what could be if some things were found out. This dream though, was a common one. It was one of the last days he had seen his two friends and how he had left them. The proud pale blond and the cheerful brunette. They had met everything to Francis; he had wanted to do so much more with them. Learn more about people, have fun doing the normal teenage things he had heard so much about growing up. Perhaps even experiencing their first kisses together. But those dreams were long shattered and he could only hold tight to their memories. They were so precious to him, so much a part of his life that a good portion of him wanted them back, wanted their solid comfort at his side… but he knew better.

There was no way to predict how they would react to finding out he was a mutant. Would they still treat him as they had when they were all younger and getting into mischief together? Or would they turn their backs on him and ignore they ever knew him. With a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to work the knots out from sleep, he continued to act like he didn’t hear the slight footsteps. He was used to ignoring the guards and people who came to look; after all, it was best to wait to speak till spoken to.

“So… this explains why none of my letters got answered…”

Hearing the voice he could never forget, no matter how many years had passed, something that felt like an electric shock traveled up his spine and down his muscles, leaving his body suddenly rigid. A few seconds passes while his thoughts processed and he could no longer deny that he had been found across the ocean of time. But he didn’t know if Gilbert would be a proverbial lifeboat or an anchor. In truth, Francis was terrified… but he knew he didn’t dare show it. Weakness was not something you showed to anyone, not even old friends.

Standing up slowly to show he was in only his pants, it was possible to see scars across his back as dim light pierced the darkness. They weren’t quite reflective on his paler skin, but they did stand out as the light danced its way across the tell-tale marks. Slowly turning around, similar marks were present across his chest and arms. Holding his head high, he approached the bars, further out of the shadows and near the light that seemed to be surrounding his friend. A small, forced smiles graced his lips and he could only wonder if Gilbert would see through it, to see the battle between hope and fear that was taking place inside of him. Azure eyes locking with Carmine, he easily brushed the hair back over his shoulder, trying to act like this wasn’t a stressful meeting, just as he was sure that Gilbert was taking this role too.

“Gotta admit, Francis… I never expected to see you in a place like this. No wonder your parents were so vague on your whereabouts.”

“I would have answered if I could, mon ami… but they don’t encourage things such as letter writing and keeping in touch with the past here… “

Leaning on the bars, he kept his gaze only on Gilbert's face. If this exchange went bad, he did not want to know what kind of handsome man Gilbert had grown into. He’d rather hold onto the memory of their friendship from years ago.

“I had always wondered what they had told people… why I was gone. Though I must admit, I don’t really think of them much anymore. But tell me, what are you doing here in the underworld… it is no place for one such as you.”

Taking a chance, he tried to reach through the bars since Gilbert was so close. He was just going to run his hand through that silvery blond hair in a comforting manner… for them both. For Gilbert to see that he was alright and for Francis to see that he wasn’t imagining things. There might have been some pain in his voice, but he was hoping the movement would hide it. He wouldn’t hurt his friend, not even if he had reason to.

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

    My words are my faith...
        To hell with our good name...

There was a long, painful silence that followed Francis’ words as Gil tried to process this sudden turn of events. The blonde’s voice had deepened, but it was still just as elegant as Gilbert had remembered. He’d teased the boy so much when they were together, slapping his shoulder and proclaiming that between Francis’ looks and his voice, he’d have his pick of the girls. Secretly, he’d always envied the older boy for his looks, his money, but most of all, for his family. Gil couldn’t imagine what it was like to see pride in his parents’ eyes when they looked at him, but he saw it in the eyes of Fran’s parents. But now, as he knelt on the rough hewn floors, Gilbert didn’t feel envy any more.

He felt sick.

He didn’t miss the scars. Even though his eyes weren’t as good as the average person, and the light here was far from adequate, he could see the multitude if healed cuts and scrapes and… he averted his eyes before he could determine if any were from burns. The thought of one of his best friends and his precious little brother squaring off in that hateful arena turned his stomach. He’d sat through several fights already, feigning interest for the Government Officials’ benefit. Afterwards he would go back to his rented apartment and drink as much he could to numb himself to the whole idea. Knowing strangers were sacrificed to satiate the bloodlust of the public was bad enough… knowing that his loved ones had participated was devastating. He would certainly be drinking once he left here, desperately trying to forget the inescapable truth that had been laid before him. But he had a long way to go before that, right now he had to get things squared with his friend.

He frowned, noting the way Francis smiled, the carefully chosen words that distances the mutant from the humans. He was forcibly reminded of his first interactions with West and with Mi… both had spoke and had with such subservient formality. Mi had especially been adept at employing that disingenuous smile on command, and now Francis was giving him the same exact smile. Was there a damned class on this or something? Gil grimaced at the thought. He had to break through this mask that Francis had thrown up. He was deliberating on whether reaching out to Fran would be considered comforting or confrontational when a movement caught his eye. Apparently Francis had beaten him to the punch and was reaching out for him. Gil couldn’t help but be surprised, the act alone was a huge leap of faith—if Gil wasn’t sympathetic to mutants, he could easily use the gesture as evidence of aggression…. God only knows what punishment the blonde would face then. Without thinking, Gil caught the outstretched hand, intertwining their fingers like a mesh. The feel of him brought the reality home to Gil in a way that nothing else had; if he had been a lesser man, he likely would have cried. Instead he smiled warmly, tightening his grip on Fran’s hand.

“What in the hell are you talking about? ‘No place for one such as I?’ Even in here, you talk like a snob. Don’t talk to me as if I’m some bigwig. If my family had their way, I’d probably be sharing a cell with you.” His voice was teasing, hoping Fran could see that he still saw the blonde as a friend, that he still cared about the man, just as he always had. He was going to break through that façade that Fran had thrown up if it was the last thing he did. How dare he think he could deceive Gil with such a flimsy display of servitude! He finally let go of Fran’s hand, only to shake out two cigarettes from his pack. He placed one between his lips before pressing the other through the bars.

“You still big on peer pressure?” He asked with a mischievous grin. He still remembered the afternoon he’d snaked the pack of cigarettes from his Father’s lounge and them like a trophy to his friends. Toni had waved him off, but after a great amount of cajoling, Gilbert had succeeded in tempting Francis into trying a cigarette with him. He couldn’t help but laugh at the memory, but sobered up at the sight of his battered friend. He just hoped there was something left of his old friend underneath the years of reprograming…

word count: 752
tags: Francis L. Bonnefoy
notes: Gil's... not really great at comfort...

by worldie for kat

[Francis L. Bonnefoy]

Trust. Faith. To have both of these in your fellow man was the essence of being human. It had been a long time since Francis could say he had these beliefs in other people…. The last time he had these was with two close friends, one of which was in front him now. He could trust people…. Trust them to hurt and treat him as les s than human. His faith in the belief of help your fellow man had been equally shattered like a glass ball hitting the floor and splitting into a thousand pieces. While it might not be possible to repair glass, and it would be nigh impossible to repair the naive, innocent trust he had when he was a youth, it would be possible to rebuild the bond between two people that was broken by time and unpredictable circumstances. That’s what the gesture was to him. It was a bridge from one man to the other, not from a human to a mutant. A chance to really affirm that Gil really was trying to reach out to him and Francis wanted it. He wanted his old friend back; he wanted even a small part of his old life back even if it was only a sliver. He wanted to delude himself that everything was normal.

Though it all teetered on a dangerous threshold, he would either be accepted or rebuffed and receive who know what punishment, though the punishment would be nothing to how his heart would shatter. And it nearly did when his hand was grabbed. He could feel the sharp stab of fear pass through him; eyes widening, breaking the carefully guarded façade he had crafted over the years. The fear was easy to see, for when Francis dropped his mask he was as easy to read as a book left open to the public to view, with large, bold font. His heart nearly froze in his chest, but it continued to beat loudly in his chest and in his ears, refusing to allow time to stop, but kept it marching forward with the steady tempo instead. And as the time slide forward as the waves slide gently over the rocks on the shore, so did the hand on his, entwining their fingers in strong bond that dared anyone to try to break it.

“What in the hell are you talking about? ‘No place for one such as I?’ Even in here, you talk like a snob. Don’t talk to me as if I’m some bigwig. If my family had their way, I’d probably be sharing a cell with you.”

The hand holding his own grounded him, kept him in this moment instead of thinking of the past or the future. Now that he knew for sure that despite all the years and the changes that had taken place between them, their friendship hadn’t changed. He didn’t know how to react anymore; it had been too long taking the subservient role of following orders and behaving in a certain way. He was sued to flattering his potential contractors, used to thinking of how he could best please them, how he could possibly get a little something himself from the exchange. But this man in front of him was different. He didn’t know how to react to someone not wanting anything from him but to be himself, his true self that he hadn’t seen in a decade at least….. He wasn’t even sure where the old Francis ended and this one began anymore.

“Non…..non, I would not want you in here with me. I want you out there in the free sunlight.”

He cut himself off, not sure he could continue without his voice breaking. It was also a good thing that his hand had been gently dropped. He was old enough when he was taken into the system to still remember how his parents used to hug him; how they used to tell them they were so proud of him. The woman at the school did that, only when the students behaved in the way proper. He knew how Gilbert acted…. It would not have done him good. Especially now where they didn’t have any freedom of mobility, they only went where they were paid to go… He had managed to come to terms with it, but he knew it was awful even if he pretended like he preferred it like this.

“You still big on peer pressure?”

Looking up at Gilbert when those words were spoken, Francis could only shrug and smile himself as he took one of the offered cigarettes. Placing the stick between his lips, he leaned forward, hoping Gilbert would give him a light. He didn’t have any powers for lighting things or fire or anything of the sorts, his were more towards nature and growing, which is why his cell was plain to the eye. Though looking at his friend, his eyes actually had taken on bit of a sparkle as he leaned against the bars. Carefully shifting the cigarette to the side of his mouth, he spoke around it.

“I know I’m hot and all, but you’ll have to light this thing for me. And hopefully easier than you did the first time… though I’ve learned a few tricks of my own for lighting a fire.”

Winking, he wondered if he could make Gil flustered, and hopefully he’d see that Francis was letting down his carefully made persona for him alone.

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

    My words are my faith...
        To hell with our good name...

Gilbert, already in the process of fishing for a lighter, looked up, a bit surprised by Francis’ words. Fran had always been the flirt, the first to discover girls, to talk to them in a way that didn’t involve pinches and pulled ponytails. He was always the first to swoop in after Gil’s thoughtless actions had brought them to tears, his voice soothing away the affront effortlessly. It was a pleasant revelation that he hadn’t lost that charm in place like this.

“Well now, that would be one way to have a reunion….” He said with a smirk as he held the lighter to Francis, igniting the cigarette before leaning back and bringing the flame to his own lips. The cigarettes smoldered in the dimly lit hall, two paired embers in the darkness. “I’ll have you know though… I’m plenty capable of lighting fires myself.” He winked and inhaled deeply before letting out a drawn out cloud of smoke. “Ah, man… I can’t tell you how long I’ve been dying to do that….” He chuckled. “Technically, I’m quitting, you know? West would kill me if he found out I was still smoking.” He winked and smiled mischievously before bringing the cigarette back to his mouth. Gilbert sat in silence for a long moment, simply enjoying the quiet camaraderie of two old friends. In that moment, he could almost pretend that nothing changed…

Except it had… yet another loved one was trapped in this hell, yet another person Gil had always believed would grow up to outshine him. Despite the lascivious act, Gil knew that Fran had always been kind and smart and could operate with far more poise than Gilbert could manage in ten lifetimes. He should be a businessman or a politician or… anything really. Francis belonged in a seat of power, wearing a three piece suit and enjoying the best life has to offer. But instead he was just another poor soul rotting away in a dank Russian cell.

“So… when were you found out?” He asked, taking another drag of his cigarette. Now that he was sitting here, facing his friend, he owed it to him to get his full story. No one cared about the stories that were locked away here, but Gil would see to it that one day, people wouldn’t be able to escape them. “I kept trying to get a number or an address or… anything that might help me get in touch with you, but your parents wouldn’t tell me a damned thing. Wouldn’t even talk to me, really, I had to have Toni ask. I was determined to find out what happened, but…” At this, his face colored with shame and he looked away. “But then West was identified as a mutant and taken away… Everything changed on that day…” He took another long drag, letting the smoke roll from his lips. “I didn’t forget you, Fran… It was just… I thought you didn’t want to talk to us anymore, I know I wasn’t the greatest to bring along at parties. And it… it was West. I couldn’t focus on anything else.” He hoped Fran would understand, would remember how attached he was to his little brother. West had always been his responsibility, but now, sitting across from his long lost friend, Gil wished he had tried harder to find out Francis’ fate.

word count: 562 tags: Francis L. Bonnefoy notes: "it is sweet and just to die for love."

by worldie for kat

[Francis L. Bonnefoy]

Watching the small sparks dance in the dark, followed by the warm glow of the embers as they caught was a distraction that he held onto. Slowing inhaling before letting two carefully curved fingers pull the light from between his lips, he exhaled a small trail of smoke that was near indistinguishable from the shadows around them. A small laugh was freely given as Gilbert responded to his innuendo with an answer of his own. Yes, that would be one hell of a reunion, but so was this.

"Ill have you know though... im plenty capable of lighting fires myself."

Francis had no doubt that the words that left his friends lips were true. When they were younger, Gil had lacked charm, lacked the style to call and keep a woman's attention on him. Back then, his misguided attempts mostly ended up making the girls cry. Now though.... now he had grown into what Francis had imagined on rough days where he needed to remember what it was like to have people who cared about him for more than his his parlor-trick power. Gilbert had refined himself into a well-dressed man who was able and prosperous in his own right; something that Francis had always wanted for him.

Taking a moment to observe his friend, he could only appreciate what he saw. The years had been good to him. Gilbert had grown into a handsome man with roguish hair and eyes that promised mischief in there sparkles. His face had lost the childhood plumped and gained the lean traces of adult hood and the mind to match. Gilbert had become a man who knew how to light fires alright, one that always tempted the fires of burning in their youth, the fire in his spirit and called to others to join in. He was glad nothing had managed to douse the burning fire in that soul.

“So… when were you found out?”

Francis knew this question was coming, how could it not have been when you find a friend who vanished on you years ago without a trace. He wasn’t sure how he could answer it, especially when he knew the answer would end up hurting his friends in the process. There was no need to tell them he was trying to make flowers the colors of their eyes.  It was his own misguided attempts at trying to do something for his friends that landed him here in this situation. Perhaps… he only asked when an not how, so that was what would be answered.

“But then West was identified as a mutant and taken away… Everything changed on that day… I didn’t forget you, Fran… It was just… I thought you didn’t want to talk to us anymore, I know I wasn’t the greatest to bring along at parties. And it… it was West. I couldn’t focus on anything else.”

“I was found about a month before Antonio’s birthday really, and it was my own careless fault I was found. I wasn’t careful enough and a friend of my cousin’s caught me and went to the government…. As for West….”

Here is where Francis looked down, letting his hair fall over his eyes as he carefully raised the ember back to his lips and left it there for a second, lips curling around the solid object as he tried to figure out how to respond. His left hand carefully curled around one of the bars, already glad he was sitting down as the seconds past. He didn’t want Gilbert to see his face at this moment, the pained look on his face as he imagined his friend thinking he had been abandoned and forgotten by someone who had been close to him. It made Francis chest hurt to even think about how a young Gilbert and Antonio must have felt when they were blown off on where or how he was. It would seem uncaring and as if they were abandoned.

“I don’t blame you for not being able to find me, it just makes me happy and sad that you two spent so long trying to find me when I would have been near impossible to find….. And it’s not that I didn’t want to be around you; I would have given anything to be normal and to have been with you for all these years. I never felt abandoned by you two… I knew what you were going through.“

Now Francis carefully looked up, eyes still not meeting his friends as he remembered back years ago. He didn’t remember much about his life before Weeds and the underground, and most of what he did remember was hazy; and most of it Francis wasn’t sure he made up to just keep himself whole in the harsher moments. Carefully wrapping his other hand around one of the other bars, the smoking ember was between two fingers, a light in the dark where it shouldn’t be. In a way, Francis guessed it was just like how they all were. Each of the people he met here had their own light that the darkness tried to extinguish, tried to form it into a plaything, a tool to be used.

“I knew you were distracted trying to find your brother, how could I not know? I was there when he was brought to the school. I wasn’t there for long while he was new, but I tried to be kind and help him when I could. He was your brother after all, and I knew how frantic you must have been. I wanted to get a message to you to let you know I was attempting to look after him… but I had no way, it wasn’t possible. So no Gilbert, I don’t blame you for not finding me, especially when your brother was missing. I don’t blame anyone but myself for my fate. Though I will say, once you learn the system and what people want to see and how they want you to behave, it becomes easy to survive here.”

Francis knew that survival was not truly living, but he wouldn’t say that. There was no way he was going to open that door for Gilbert to see how life was for them beyond the obvious dark cells that was plain to see. It would do his best to keep his friends in the metaphorical darkness for his own protection. It was hard for Francis to talk about much of the past, nearly physically. Words would get stuck in his throat until better options undid the knot that threatened to cut off his breath. So it was easier to focus on the here and now. Carefully reaching out with the hand not in use to old the cigarette, he gently laid it over one of Gilbert's, giving it a light squeeze.

”So not be upset or sad Gilbert, things have happened, and nothing we do now can change it. We can only shape the future from here, and… I hope, I can be a part of yours and Antonio’s… no matter how briefly we’re able to be together.”

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

    My words are my faith...
        To hell with our good name...

Of course, why hadn’t Gil connected those dots sooner? West was only 5 years younger than Francis, of course they would have gone to that hateful school together. He slumped over as the information settled over him. He felt his eyes tear up, but he wasn’t sure why. Was it relief? Anger? Sadness? He could only imagine the fear and lonliness that would have gripped West as he was forced into captivity, torn from everything that had ever comforted him, stripped from even his identity. In Archadia, he wasn’t a German, he wasn’t a student, he wasn’t a brother… he was just a mutant. That terror must have been more than West had ever felt before and it was that terror that kept him awake at night. But to know that at least he had one familiar face to sooth him… Gil felt himself shudder—immediately wracked with guilt by the thought. Even if it was for a second, that he could be grateful for his best friend’s capture filled Gil with revulsion. But he couldn’t focus on it. His friend was clearly hurting, though he was certainly trying his best to hide it.

“Fran… thank you for looking after West while you could… Y-you have no idea how much that means to me…” He looked up, meeting Fran’s eyes with his own gaze. His hand slid over the bars to rest over Francis’, trying to warm his fingers. He owed the blonde that much at least. “Knowing that West had someone to watch out for him… I can’t tell you how much of a relief that is…. And I’m going to pay you back for that, I promise. I don’t know how yet, but I promise. So stop acting like you’ll never see me again. You and me and Toni are going to be in eachother’s lives for a long time. You think you’re getting rid of us so easily? Hah! Don’t underestimate the great Gilbert Beilschmidt.” He smiled weakly, and leaned back, though his hand never left Fran’s. He could tell himself that it’s for Fran’s comfort, but deep down he knows the truth. He won’t let go, not when he’d just found his friend. With a sigh he took one another drag of his cigarette, sending up a puff of smoke in lieu of further conversation. He didn’t know what else to say. No words could cover the swirling emotions that gripped him. He was just happy to have found the man, to know that despite everything, he still considered them friends. And that, more than anything, convinced Gilbert to speak up.

“Fran… listen to me… I told you I was going to help right ? I meant that. I have a plan. I’m making a factory here in Archadia. A factory to let mutants work, to give them a chance to breathe free air, to regain some sense of dignity… I’m going to get you out of this hellhole. Okay? You can shower with warm water, eat real food. So just sit tight and trust me, okay?” He leaned closer, resolve burning in his eyes. “Can you trust me, Fran? I won’t let you down.”

word count: 529
tags: Francis L. Bonnefoy
notes: 

by worldie for kat

[Francis L. Bonnefoy]

“Knowing that West had someone to watch out for him… I can’t tell you how much of a relief that is…. And I’m going to pay you back for that, I promise. I don’t know how yet, but I promise. So stop acting like you’ll never see me again. You and me and Toni are going to be in eachother’s lives for a long time. You think you’re getting rid of us so easily? Hah! Don’t underestimate the great Gilbert Beilschmidt.”

He would have looked out for Ludwig no matter what; he did it for Ludwig’s benefit, for Gilbert’s… and for his own. He did it so Ludwig would know his brother was real, that it wasn’t his imagination that he did have someone that cared about him before all this happened. Having a real connection to his past was a key to keeping certain memories. This same logic applied to Francis himself. Having Ludwig around cemented the fact that he had friends before this and that they weren’t fictitious characters of his imagination he made up to help keep part of himself whole. But he did it for all three of them, so there really was no need to pay him back. He continued to listen though, and he knew that Gilbert was telling the truth. Now that they knew where he was, it would be hard to keep them apart.

“I have never underestimated you Gilberto, and I don’t plan to. I have always looked up to you, you know? I was always jealous of how carefree you always seemed. Never seeming to care what other people wanted from you… you were always your own person, and I had wished I could be like that.”

He still wished he could live like that sometime, free to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. But even when he was still a free child, his time and actions had never been his own. There was always a certain amount of things that had been expected he do, always certain ways he should have behave. Really, if Francis were honest with himself, this life wasn’t that much different from his old one… just worse living conditions and the inability to say disagree with what people wanted.

“Fran… listen to me… I told you I was going to help right? I meant that. I have a plan. I’m making a factory here in Archadia. A factory to let mutants work, to give them a chance to breathe free air, to regain some sense of dignity… I’m going to get you out of this hellhole. Okay? You can shower with warm water, eat real food. So just sit tight and trust me, okay? Can you trust me, Fran? I won’t let you down.”

Francis just watch Gilbert, watched those eyes burn with determination and he couldn’t find it in his heart to bring down the man’s dream. He doubted they’d let him out to work in the factory, now when he was a favorite arm candy for well to do people to show off. The government would lose too much money letting Francis go to work at the factory, no matter how much he himself wanted it. He yearned for a long hot bath more than anything. At least once of sipping wine and relaxing as the warm water soaked into his skin with soft music playing. Sighing, he nodded as Gilbert leaned forward and squeezed the fingers that never left his own. A sense of connection that had been missing in his life for many years had finally been restored. Leaning forward carefully, he placed the cigarette on the ground before raising that hand behind Gilbert's head and tangled his fingers in his hair. Bringing his own face closer to the bars, he closed his eyes and kissed him gently, almost a barely there brush of skin against skin. Pulling back after a couple of seconds, he ruffled that light hair and pulled his hand back.

“Oui, I do trust you Gilberto, I always have. I look forward to the day I can look at you and not have these bars between us. It’ll be such a fun day, I’ll make you food and we’ll just spend time together.”

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

    My words are my faith...
        To hell with our good name...

The kiss lasted less than a second, barely worth calling it such a thing. But the warmth of Francis’ lips against his radiated like a wildfire throughout Gil’s body. He thought back to the kisses Francis had lavished on both himself and Toni when they were kids. He thought back on how he had always shook him off, had always complained over the displays of affection. But now… now he would give anything for those kisses, sweet and familiar and languid. He’d give anything for his friend to be at his side rather than caged in that cell. Gill settled back, his eyes locked on Fran’s eyes, even as the taste of that desperate and furtive kiss still lingered on his lips. It felt like an admonition in that moment, one that hit a little too close to home for Gil. Once more he’d failed to notice the truth, too caught up in his own world to notice the danger until it was too late. And his loved ones paid the price…

“Oh Fran… Gott… I should have tried harder. I should have known… If I would have—“ He stopped, looking down to that hand, resting on his shoulder. The hand of one of his best friends, of his first coconspirator… the hand of a prisoner… of another person that he had to save. He couldn’t help but feel the weight of that burden settle in on him. West and Fran and Mi and… and each mutant who was wasting away in this hell… did he really have what it took to really make a difference for any of them? But hearing Fran’s hopeful words made him feel guilty for even thinking about giving up. Fran believed in him, West believed in him. He didn’t have the luxury of giving up. Not as long as they were forced to live out their lives in the grip of such a cruel and malicious system. He listened to Fran’s daydream about their time together once he was freed and was thankful for the dim lighting. The last thing he needed was for anyone to see him tearing up, dammit! It took him a minute to find his voice and another before he could trust it to work without cracking.

“Ja. It’ll be a great day, won’t it? We’ll go into town and drink it dry and dance with all the beautiful people. You’d be impressed, Fran. I’m a hell of a lot better at picking up dates than I was. You’ll have your work cut out for you.” He let out a boisterous laugh before his expression sobered. “I’m not going to stop, Fran. Not until I find a way to help you, to help West… there has to be a way. And I promise. I’m not going to give up until I find it. I swear on my life.” He looked around, garnet eyes taking in his dreary and dank surroundings. “So just hold tight. I’ll get you out. I promise. I just have to… work harder, I guess.” He laughed dryly. “If only my old teachers could see me now… they swore nothing could motivate me. I guess I’ll show them.” He gripped at Fran’s hand. “I just need you to keep strong for me. Don’t let this place beat you. Got it?”

word count: 554
tags: Francis L. Bonnefoy
notes: 

by worldie for kat

[Francis L. Bonnefoy]

The kiss did more for him than Gilbert could have realized. It sunk home the fact that his friend was in front of him and not a figment his imagination had pulled together to help keep him sane in this would. It wouldn’t be the first time he had thought he had seen his old friends in this place. Usually by the time he had talked to them for a while and he finally went to touch them, they had vanished, leaving behind a cold, empty feeling that squeezed his heart until he felt like crying. But he would not cry down here, he had cried himself out the first day. The only other times that the tears had left his system was during the fights when his body couldn’t take it anymore. But that was physical pain and so much different from loneliness.

“Oh Fran… Gott… I should have tried harder. I should have known… If I would have—“

“Non, stop blaming yourself Gilberto; I do not blame you, no one does. You were young like I was, there was nothing you could have done.”

He couldn’t believe that Gilbert was blaming himself for this… actually he could. His friend always blamed himself for when things happened, even if he couldn’t control the circumstances. He had to smile sadly; his friend never changed, no matter what was going on. Yes he grew and learned, but his basic caring character hadn’t. It was one of the things he had always admired about Gilbert, he was strong enough to stick to what he believed and not let himself change for anything. Francis only wished he could be like that. Francis knew that he had changed from how he was younger, it was inevitable given the circumstances. Sometimes he could only wonder what he would have been like if he wasn’t a mutant or taken to this facility. But he shook that off, knowing it wouldn’t do anything good having these thoughts and just focus on Gil right now, he needed Francis support even as Francis needed his.

“I just need you to keep strong for me. Don’t let this place beat you. Got it?”

Reaching over to take one of Gil’s hands in his own, he squeezed it and raised it up to kiss the back of his hand. He wanted Gil to know that he always appreciated him and would look forward to whatever Gil would do, even if it was only buying him to get him out of this place for a little while.

“Just don’t stress yourself out too bad, oui? You will do no good if you make yourself sick. I will be fine. I’ll keep looking forward to spending more time with you. I’m not going to let anything get me down, oui. Just come back for me.”