An Unlooked for Happenings (Gil/Francis) [Thread 0]

[Francis L. Bonnefoy]

Sounds echoed around the room;his own breath rattled in his chest. For a few days now, Francis had heard the others occupants coughing, the sounds echoing off the stone walls, but he had hoped that he would be spared this fate. Curling his body tighter into a ball and holding the sad excuse for a blanket close to his frame, he huddled under it, shaking with the cold. His body was burning up, trying to fight the could that he had been avoiding. Francis wasn't surprised that he had gotten sick,  it was the way the underground work, and he was just as stressed as the rest of the mutants, just as under appreciated and just as neglected.

Keeping himself huddled, Francis tried to breath shallow, just for a moment, he wanted to avoid the coughing fit that stole his breath and left him even more tired than he already was. His chest hurt from coughing and his head pounded. There was a fever raging in his head, this he was sure, for why else would he be this sick and miserable?  He knew that his only chance was to be bought; even in this condition, he hopped he was still too tempting of a purchase. His buyers would have to take him do the doctor and get him the wonderful blessing of medicine before he could start catering to their every whim. He didn't think about his actions, it was what he was trained to do and what he had been trained to enjoy doing. His happiness depended on making those that bought him happy, and he would go to the ends of his abilities to make it so.

His bed creaking as he shifted to lay facing the wall, he felt some relief as the dim light in his cell couldn't reach his eyes and he had the blissful dark. The change in position helped relieve some pressure off his chest and off of his head, though it still felt like his lungs and head were held in a vice, constantly holding him down, keeping him from breathing as deep as he needed to.

Feeling his body finally relax, Francis sighed gently, hoping he wouldn't be on the long list for Morpheus this day. Thankfully it seemed that for once his wish was granted and Francis was allowed to pass into the land of light slumber thanks to the blissful kindness of the sandman. 

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

      If I'm going to hell...
      I won't be going alone...

And Gil thought he hated the Underground in the fall. It was damp and chilly and the air seemed to cling to his lungs, refusing to clear long after he reemerged into the free world. He couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be there day in and day out, to actually live in that hell.

But nothing prepared for him for this. The cold was a physical, tangible force and it hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. From the instant he stepped into the holding cells, the sound of sickness filled his ears and his heart ached for the poor souls coughing and gasping, battling for each breath. His hand gripped a little tighter around the papers in his hand, the bill of sale that proved his right to… to own one of his best friends. The thought left him feeling ill, but there was little he could do about it. He had to help his friend and for now, this was the only way he could it. He arrived at the cell, a huge grin on his face. He had promised Fran, swore that he’d find a way to get him out of this hell, and even if it was a temporary reprieve, he couldn’t but feel a bit of pride in his actions. After nearly a decade of failing to be the friend Fran deserved, Gil was finally going to do something right.

“Guten Morgen, Francis! You’re coming with me for a bit!” He beamed and held up the papers to the bars for him to see, only to pale as his eyes landed on the figure, curled up on what barely deserved to be called a bed. His hand slid to his side and he turned to the guard standing beside him.

“Open the door.” He demanded.

“Sir, I don’t think that’s a good idea, he’s obviously caught whatever’s been going around. We should just go back and draw up the papers for a new mutant, you shouldn’t have to pay for a sick one.” The guard froze at the look Gil sent his way.

“Open the door.”

The lock clicked open, echoing in the cavernous cell. Gil stepped in, loosening his tie before kneeling at his friend’s bedside. He rested a hand on Fran’s shoulder, hoping not to startle the blonde who still hadn’t responded to him. He glanced around, but the guard had already left… thank god.

“Fran? Hey? You hear me? It’s Gil. Get up, we’re busting out of this place.”

word count: 657
tags:  Francis L. Bonnefoy
notes:sorry, a bit rusty here

by worldie for kat

[Francis L. Bonnefoy]

" “Fran? Hey? You hear me? It’s Gil. Get up, we’re busting out of this place."

He was being shaken, and that in itself was odd. Usually if the people in charge wanted him awake, they would either kick the bed or just dump him out of it. But here, a gentle shake with a nickname that only the familiar called him, he woke slowly, confused with the soft awakening and his senses feeling oddly at home in a place he never liked. Eyes blinking open, not really seeing the darkened figure in shadows, it took him a moment of searching to pull Gilbert's name from his brain once he recognized him.

"Wha...."

He was interrupted by a hacking cough, deep in his chest that caused him to curl up in himself again. He just wanted a nice warm bed and something ease the coughing. His chest hurt with the effort it took to pull each breath through his lungs, his head hurt with muscles pulled; everything hurt from this sickness. Relaxing back on the bed, he groaned as the flimsy mattress poked his back in places that had long ago gotten used to the cheapness of this mattress and how it was barely a protection against anything.

"You picked a wonderful time to buy me, I'm not going to be good for much but I'll do what I can for you."

He let one hand move so it was closer to Gilbert. It was cold and clammy. He wanted a bit of comfort from his friend before he tried to move, tried to sit up and have the world spin before his eyes. But he would willingly go with Gilbert, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. This man was one of the closest people he had to a family anymore and he needed to be with him. He also wanted to comfort Gil just much as he wanted to be with him. Even while sick, he could tell there was something bothering Gil and he had to find out what. If there was anything he could do to bring a real smile back to his friends face, then he would do it.

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

     If I'm going to hell...
       I won't be going alone...

Fran had always been a being that relied on touch. Even as kids he’d always been the one to bridge the gap that separated them. He was forever wrapping arms around shoulders, gripping hands, and (much to Gil’s chagrin) sitting on laps. As a result Gil knew his touch better than he knew just about anyone else’s. His family certainly wasn’t the type for public displays of affection and even West would shrug off just about anything that wasn’t a handshake. Yes, he knew exactly how Fran felt, how he hugged, how he touched.

Which is why he could tell just how bad Fran was as he reached over and grabbed the blonde’s hand. Despite his brave words, Fran’s fingers were slick and even though Gil could tell he was using his best grip, it was nothing compared to the touch he remembered. Whatever was happening to his friend, it was far more than his glib words would suggest.

“Stop assuming I bought you for a job.” There was definitely a greater bite than Gil meant to infuse in his voice. “You’re my friend and you’re sick. I’m getting you out because you’re never going to recoup here in this hell hole, and I’m not such a bad friend that I would leave you to waste away without at least trying to do something.” He huffed and stared straight ahead, irritated that even crippled with illness, Fran could still read him like an open book. He could tell it, just by the way those blue eyes were looking at him. Here he was, fighting for breath and still all he can do is worry over Gil. Idiot!

Admittedly, he couldn’t have made a good sight. Gil hadn’t slept since… well since Ren. And now he had a child… a human being that truly depended on him… well… that certainly wasn’t helping the insomnia. Admittedly Nico had helped distract Gil from the demon that haunted his nights, during the day he was so busy shopping and playing with the boy that he didn’t have time to think about anything else. But at night… at night when Nico was asleep and the world was silent. Ren always made his return. Gil could hear the sneer in his voice, that victorious laugh. The taunts that made a home deep in Gil’s psyche… One moment of lost control was going to cost him everything. That was a fact that Gil had come to terms with a few weeks ago, but it didn’t help ease his nights… and as a result the wear on him was finally showing. Gil was always pale, and the addition of the bruise-like smudges under his eyes made him look all the more gaunt as a result. Fran was probably right to fuss over his friend and in any other situation, Gil would be all too happy to confide in him. (There were so few people he trusted anymore, it was a treat to be able to talk to one of them.)

But this was not the time or place for that. Fran was the one in most need of help and, dammit, Gil was going to do just that.

“Here, lean on me, the sooner we can get you out of here the sooner we can get you into a nice bed with a hot bowl of soup and some medicine,” he said, hooking his arm around Fran’s back. “Take it slow, getting up. Don’t need you passing out on me.”

word count: 582
tags:Francis L. Bonnefoy
notes:

by worldie for kat

[Francis L. Bonnefoy]

“Stop assuming I bought you for a job.”

He wanted to chuckle at his friend, but he knew it was true. He was assuming he was bought for a job, in this state, he fell back on learned instincts, and his instincts now were being bought means he has a job. He wasn’t thinking too clearly, his head was foggy and felt too heavy for his head. All in all, he really had no idea what he was saying.

“You’re my friend and you’re sick. I’m getting you out because you’re never going to recoup here in this hell hole, and I’m not such a bad friend that I would leave you to waste away without at least trying to do something.”

“Pardon Gilberto, instincts are a hard thing to overcome when trying to keep yourself grounded and not get lost in delirium.”

He thought his voice sounded tired, and if it came out a bit rough and grouchy, he didn’t mean for it to be. He really was trying to apologize with those words, to show that he did appreciate his friend for thinking of him and taking care of him. He didn’t know what he did to deserve such a wonderful friend such as Gilbert, but he would do his best to not drive him away, to not lose one of the few friends from this past that stilled viewed him as normal and didn’t treat him any different. Even though he was mostly out of his head currently, there were some things he always saw… his friend’s state of being was one thing he focused on. He had to focus on something to keep himself from succumbing to the darkness that tried to overtake his vision as he was moved with Gil’s arm around his back. He could see how deep his friends eyes had sunk, how gaunt his skin had grown across those bones, and he knew the before his friend couldn’t afford to lose any weight. As soon as he was feeling better, he would make it a point to help him too.

“Here, lean on me, the sooner we can get you out of here the sooner we can get you into a nice bed with a hot bowl of soup and some medicine.”

“Tell me why you haven’t been sleeping… you can sleep in the bed with me, but I might get you sick in your current state……”

He had to grip onto Gil’s shoulders as his voice trailed off, he, it was all he could do to keep from falling over. Burying his head in Gil’s shoulder, he breathed as deep as he could, trying to keep from coughing all over his friend. He wanted so badly to help, to make a smile on his face and to see a healthy glow on those cheeks. But… perhaps Gil was right, it would have to wait till he was better.