"I'm just going to deposit some of our savings in the bank. That way we won't spend it again. I'll be back soon."
Those had been the words that led to the mess he was in now.
While he was filling out a deposit slip, and trying desperately to remember their account number, a woman had walked in with a man who appeared to be her husband. They had chatted quietly with each other as they headed to one of the counters to begin filling out their own forms. A few minutes later an old woman had stepped inside, attempting to pull her wallet out of a large purse that seemed to be stuffed with everything from knitting needles to the 'K' volume of a set of encyclopedias. Shortly after that two men in suits had made their way inside, talking about how business was going and how they seriously needed a new coffee machine at the office or they were going to go mad. A young woman had come in behind them, looking nervous and like she wanted to be anywhere else.
Seeing her discomfort, he had gone over to her and kindly asked if she was alright. She said she was fine, she was just upset because she had never gone to a bank alone before and didn't know what to do. She had just gotten a job at a daycare down the road and needed to set up a way for her paycheck to be automatically deposited into her account before she would be allowed to start working.
With soft, calm words he had helped her over to a counter and showed her how to fill out some of the required forms. Then he had waited in line with her until several men had burst into the room and pulled guns out of their bags.
Immediately a defensive nature washed over him and he pulled the young woman behind him to protect her.
"Get down!" the men had shouted and the occupants of the bank had done so, wanting to obey the men for fear of never leaving the room again.
The men had them all sit against one wall of the bank, away from the windows, and empty their pockets; anything that could have been used as a weapon was taken away. As they paced in front of their captives, the young woman let out a small whimper and clung to his arm, needing some sort of feeling that things would turn out alright in the end.
One of the men noticed and narrowed his eyes.
"Get away from your boyfriend!" he yelled, coming to stand directly in front of them.
"Monsieur, I am not her boyfriend," he replied calmly. "She is simply scared."
"If she's not your girlfriend, then why is she holding you? She could have held onto the woman next to her."
"I helped her earlier today."
The man stared at them for a moment, thinking.
"Fuckher," he ordered suddenly.
"W-What?" she gasped, unsure she had heard right.
But he had and firmly answered, "No".
"I told you do something!" the man roared, pointing his gun at him. "Listen to me or I'll kill you!"
"No," he said again. "I will not."
"And why not?!"
"I do not believe in sleeping with someone if they are not willing."
The woman gripped his arm tighter.
"I-It's okay. I-I don't mind if it keeps us alive."
He shook his head.
"No. I will not sleep with you. This man cannot make me. I do not wish to do that nor do I wish to be unfaithful to my spouse."
"Where is your spouse?" the man demanded.
"At home."
"Then what does it matter? She'll never know."
"It matters to me. I will not kiss this woman."
"Are you a homo? Is that your deal? Will you fuckthat man?"
He pointed to one of the men in suits.
"I will not sleep with that man either. He certainly would not want me to and I would still be unfaithful."
"Either you fuck someone or I will shoot you!" he threatened, waving his gun in the air.
"I refuse to sleep with anyone so kill me if you must but nothing you do is going to make me sleep with someone unwilling or force me to be unfaithful. However, if you do decide to kill me remember this. I did nothing to hurt you yet you ended my life because you could not push me to do something and you did not understand. If you kill me, do not hurt this woman for she was willing to do as you less than kindly asked of her while I was not."
The man glared at him for a few moments before firing a bullet through his heart.
Arthur had been waiting for Francis to return home from his errand. While he was out he had washed the dishes, put them away, and cleaned the kitchen. He had even finished vacuuming and decided to sit down and watch the news.
The anchorwoman appeared to be in the middle of describing an attack but he was unsure where. Suddenly the camera panned around to show the bank that Francis had gone to earlier that day.
"No!" he screamed and jumped up, running to grab a jacket while quickly dialing his phone. Francis had taken the car so he needed someone to give him a ride.
As he sprinted out the door he missed hearing the anchorwoman explain that the men inside had already shot one hostage and were completely serious about shooting the rest if no one accepted their demands.
He was unable to get very close to the site of the hold up, police and barricades doing a rather good job of keeping curious bystanders away.
Over the course of the next several hours, things were negotiated and eventually the men were caught when a team of highly trained officers were able to break in. The hostages were let out and Arthur waited with his heart in his throat while they stumbled out; some bleeding, some crying, but all looking extremely distressed.
But Francis never stepped out of the building.
Trying not to panic he hurried toward the doors, breaking through the barricades and dodging the officers that tried to stop him.
"Francis!" he cried desperately. "Francis!"
Bursting into the bank, he froze and nearly fainted. Francis was slumped on the ground, blood on the wall and the floor around him, completely motionless. He dropped to his knees, too weak to stand anymore.
"Francis…" he whispered, disbelieving. "Francis…"
How could this have happened? He was only going to the bank to deposit some money. Nothing bad was supposed to happen. He was only supposed to be gone for an hour and then he would come home, greet him with a kiss, and start dinner. He wasn't supposed to get caught up in a hostage situation and die. He wasn't.
A hand was on his shoulder and he whipped around; a young woman was standing behind him.
"I-I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to startle you," she said quietly. "I just wanted to know how you knew that man."
"He's my husband," he replied, voice so low she could barely hear it.
"I am very grateful to your husband. He saved my life."
Arthur looked up quickly.
"W-What?"
The woman turned her face away.
"Th-The men tried to force him to…do some things to me but he refused…he said it wouldn't be right and he would be unfaithful…" He fidgeted a bit with the edge of her skirt. "H-He kept refusing even when they said they would kill him if he didn't do it…eventually they did kill him a-and another man killed that man for not doing what he was told…th-they left me alone after that…"
He was quiet, trying to take it all in. Francis had given his life to save this woman he didn't know and to remain loyal to him. He could have easily done whatever he had been asked to do and more but Francis wasn't the kind of man to take advantage of another person.
Eventually he took a deep breath and raised his eyes from the ground. It was then that he noticed a long gash going up the woman's leg. She seemed to notice where he was looking and put her hand over it.
"Don't mind that. It was just something that happened when I was leaving. I fell and cut myself on some glass that had shattered when the men were shooting."
"It looks bad," he stated simply. "Let me help you take care of it."
"That's quite alright. The paramedics outside can help me. I don't need to take your kindness and your husband in the same day."
He stood up, a little shakily.
"Please. Allow me to help you. You obviously meant a lot to Francis and I wouldn't be doing his memory justice if I didn't take care of you until the end of all this."
With that, he put a hand around her waist while she put her arm around his shoulder, and he helped her out to one of the ambulances.
He watched a woman clean and wrap her wound through blank eyes. The man he loved more than anyone or anything else in the world was gone. His whole life was changed just because of one trip to the bank.
AN: An hour and a half has passed and I'm finished writing. If I hadn't gotten distracted every twenty minutes this would have been finished faster but oh well. It's like 4:40 in the morning.