| May 23, 2016 13:07:01 GMT -5 |
Post by Alfred F. Jones on May 23, 2016 13:07:01 GMT -5
it's a
revolution
Word count: 597
Tags: Francis L. Bonnefoy
Alfred woke up slowly.
He felt immensely drowsy, and he stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to remember where he was and what he was doing there. It took him a moment but he finally got it. Gilbert's house. He was at Gilbert's house. He'd been shot, Maëlle had run away, and now he was at Gil's house.
Alfred wondered what time it was. It was dark outside, but then again, Russia got dark early in the winter. He was still incredibly tired. For the first day or so (Alfred wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been at Gil's), Alfred had barely been able to stay awake. Leon had put him on painkillers and Alfred had basically drifted in and out of sleep for the first 24 hours.
Waking up the first time had been terrible. He'd been disoriented, without any idea of where he was or what he was doing, and in a hell lot of pain. The adrenaline had worn off while he was asleep, and Alfred felt the impact of the gunshot (and the subsequent removal of the bullet) to its fullest capacity. Alfred had tried to pass it off as okay, though he'd clearly failed on that account, and had only felt relief when he'd been fully drugged up again.
Alfred glanced over to the chair that Gilbert had occupied during the entire ordeal and was both surprised and disappointed to find it empty. It was possible that he had just gone to the bathroom, but still. Gilbert had almost never left that seat since Alfred had arrived. He was always around, whether it was pacing or sitting in the chair, or telling Alfred to eat or go back to sleep. He was a mother hen, Alfred decided, with the way he fussed over Alfred with that overly concerned look on his face.
It was a relief that Gilbert wasn't here (god knew that man needed some rest), but it was also disappointing. Alfred did enjoy the company after all, even if Gilbert did constantly worry. It wasn't like Alfred had much to do...
Alfred's expression darkened. No, that wasn't true. He had so much to do, incredibly much. He had to find Maëlle for starters. Maëlle... Alfred felt a lump in his throat. How had he missed the signs that she was a mutant? He should have known. And the fact that she had run... Was she scared of him? What had he done wrong?
Beyond that too... Alfred had brought his police scanner and laptop. He should be working, trying to figure out whether or not he was going to get arrested, making sure that the FF was okay, contacting Greg. Actually, Alfred was fairly certain Gilbert had said he'd contact Greg, but still. Alfred should call the man. And then he should make plans, to get out if necessary, if...
He had so much work to do. Gilbert had nearly smacked his laptop out of his hands the first time he'd tried to open it. But Gilbert simply didn't understand. Alfred had to leave. It was dangerous, for Gilbert and Nico and Francis for Alfred to be here. The moment that Alfred could leave, he would.
Alfred grunted, sitting himself up with one hand before reaching over into his bag to pull out his laptop. Just then, though, the door creaked open and Alfred nearly dropped it onto the ground, hoping to feign innocence when he realized it wasn't Gilbert. He relaxed and set the laptop on the bed, offering the man a smile.
"Hey Francis. What's up?"
He felt immensely drowsy, and he stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to remember where he was and what he was doing there. It took him a moment but he finally got it. Gilbert's house. He was at Gilbert's house. He'd been shot, Maëlle had run away, and now he was at Gil's house.
Alfred wondered what time it was. It was dark outside, but then again, Russia got dark early in the winter. He was still incredibly tired. For the first day or so (Alfred wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been at Gil's), Alfred had barely been able to stay awake. Leon had put him on painkillers and Alfred had basically drifted in and out of sleep for the first 24 hours.
Waking up the first time had been terrible. He'd been disoriented, without any idea of where he was or what he was doing, and in a hell lot of pain. The adrenaline had worn off while he was asleep, and Alfred felt the impact of the gunshot (and the subsequent removal of the bullet) to its fullest capacity. Alfred had tried to pass it off as okay, though he'd clearly failed on that account, and had only felt relief when he'd been fully drugged up again.
Alfred glanced over to the chair that Gilbert had occupied during the entire ordeal and was both surprised and disappointed to find it empty. It was possible that he had just gone to the bathroom, but still. Gilbert had almost never left that seat since Alfred had arrived. He was always around, whether it was pacing or sitting in the chair, or telling Alfred to eat or go back to sleep. He was a mother hen, Alfred decided, with the way he fussed over Alfred with that overly concerned look on his face.
It was a relief that Gilbert wasn't here (god knew that man needed some rest), but it was also disappointing. Alfred did enjoy the company after all, even if Gilbert did constantly worry. It wasn't like Alfred had much to do...
Alfred's expression darkened. No, that wasn't true. He had so much to do, incredibly much. He had to find Maëlle for starters. Maëlle... Alfred felt a lump in his throat. How had he missed the signs that she was a mutant? He should have known. And the fact that she had run... Was she scared of him? What had he done wrong?
Beyond that too... Alfred had brought his police scanner and laptop. He should be working, trying to figure out whether or not he was going to get arrested, making sure that the FF was okay, contacting Greg. Actually, Alfred was fairly certain Gilbert had said he'd contact Greg, but still. Alfred should call the man. And then he should make plans, to get out if necessary, if...
He had so much work to do. Gilbert had nearly smacked his laptop out of his hands the first time he'd tried to open it. But Gilbert simply didn't understand. Alfred had to leave. It was dangerous, for Gilbert and Nico and Francis for Alfred to be here. The moment that Alfred could leave, he would.
Alfred grunted, sitting himself up with one hand before reaching over into his bag to pull out his laptop. Just then, though, the door creaked open and Alfred nearly dropped it onto the ground, hoping to feign innocence when he realized it wasn't Gilbert. He relaxed and set the laptop on the bed, offering the man a smile.
"Hey Francis. What's up?"
i suppose
by Worldie for Leia
