A/N I don't really know what this is. Just a short angsty piece from Kingsley's point of view on finding Frank and Alice after they were attacked. The end bit is only a few months or so afterwards, however long it is so that he doesn't know it was Bella & co. I'm not sure how long it was until they found out, I, quite frankly, don't care. It's changed for this, ta da. This was written on a whim, I haven't really looked through it again, nor do I intend to, so if some of it doesn't add up, that's why.

Disclaimer: I've never written Harry Potter, nor do I intend to in the near future.

Spoilers: Order of the Phoenix, only vague

He received the call when a neighbor noticed the bins hadn't been collected for a while and their mail was building up. He had noticed, of course, that Frank hadn't been in for a few days but hadn't said a thing about it. Neville was probably ill and he hadn't left his son to notify anybody, he had figured. Anyway, there wasn't anything incredibly vital Frank needed to work on, which he knew, and Kingsley knew as well, so he reasoned that he must not have thought he would have to notify anybody.

During the second day, though, Kingsley started to worry. And then they got the news that a police had been notified about the flat number which corresponded with Frank and Alice's that had been reported as suspicious. Noise had gone on the previous day and apparently strange sounds were coming from the place. The Ministry intercepted the call, seeing it for something the Muggle police couldn't see it as.

Kingsley, along with two Aurors in training stepped over the threshold to his friend's flat. He had magicked the door open easily and beckoned the younger trainees in behind him. They were meant to be inspecting a mild case which would probably turn out to be nothing but now, because of the mood and stench in the room, Kingsley thought they were in much deeper than they thought they were, before.

"Frank?" he called out, voice deep. He rapped on the wall, peering around the corner. "Buddy?" Kingsley frowned, pausing in the kitchen and glancing around. The two trainees had split off, one going up the small staircase to the other checking small rooms like toilets and the utility room. Kingsley rapped his knuckles on the hard surface of the counter, puzzled, and then walked foreword.

"Frank, where the hell are you," he murmured. And then he stepped around the counter. "Oh, shit."

The sight of Frank and Alice on the floor in their kitchen made him nearly pass out. There was the stink of urine and feces and it looked as if they hadn't eaten for the days that no one had seen them. Frank had his arms around Alice, although he didn't seem sure why he did and Alice stared blankly over his shoulder at Kingsley, who tried to meet her eyes.

"Alice," he said quietly, stooping to her level. Frank pulled away from her, turned so that his eyes fixed on Kingsley, half focused. There was absolutely no recognition in them and Kingsley stared blankly at his friend. He reached out a hand, touched Frank's shoulder and he flinched away like a child. He put his hands behind his head, interlocked his fingers through his hair and pulled his knees up to his chest.

"Don't know," Frank said, clumsily. He repeated himself, shaking his head. "Don't know, don't know, don't know." Kingsley withdrew his hand.

"What don't you know, Frank?" Frank stuck his head between his knees, not recognizing anything Kingsley said nor, it seemed, that he was saying anything at all. "It's me, Frank," he said, desperation edging itself into his voice. "It's Kingsley. Frank?" He knew, if he was right with what he was thinking, that Frank wouldn't answer. If what he thought was right, if what he thought had happened, if what he was scared of, then Frank wouldn't answer. And he didn't. "Come on, Frank," he murmured viciously. "Listen to me."

There was no reaction and Frank continued to shiver violently, murmuring under his breath, Don't know. Kingsley turned to Alice, praying that she at least would be alright.

Tens of cases like this had been turning up all over the country. Unresponsive people, tortured into insanity. Some grew better, more child-like than anything, but for some they were utterly brain dead.

"Al," he murmured, not touching her. "Hey, Alice." She didn't move, looked at him with a shadow of curiosity. Kingsley stood up, drawing out his wand and letting routine fall over his mind, pushing out the image of his best friend and his wife on the floor.

"Parker, Smith!" he called and Frank's head snapped up, eyes looking around, panicked. Kingsley closed his eyes and knelt down by Alice again, waiting for the trainees to come so that he could send for help. He placed a hand on Alice's shoulder. This drew the largest reaction out of Frank so far, along with his panic at his shout. He moved quickly but clumsily, hands grasping to push Kingsley aside. He stared at his friend's panic, the fact he didn't realise who he was, and simply made a note in his mind that they had used Alice to get information out of Frank, that they had tried to ask him something he didn't know the answer to and that there had been loud noises. A touch of something else crept into his thoughts but he pushed it away, head bowed.

"Shakle- oh, Merlin." Parker's eyes were wide with terror, fixed on Frank and Alice on the floor. Kingsley stood up, face blank.

"I need you to contact the Ministry, now." He closed his eyes, continued talking, voice level. "Prolonged use of Cruciatious Curse, victims slightly responsive but without any recognition. Contact St Mungo's and send over an investigation squad." He opened his eyes, felt them roaming back to Frank before stopping himself. Parker turned quickly on his heel, disappearing. Smith looked more collected and he stared blankly at Kingsley.

"He was your friend," he said quietly. Kingsley ignored him, eyes still fixed on Frank and Alice. This couldn't be happening. They couldn't be like this. Not to him, not to his friends.

The teams he had sent for soon arrived and Healers began to do tests on Frank and Alice. They cleaned them up first, did a spell to get them some food and water and then started their examinations. In normal cases, Kingsley would have to speak to the victims, but with these cases that was becoming more and more impossible. It was the death eater's way of cleaning up after themselves so that they didn't get caught, but, this time, Kingsley would catch them. He would damn well catch them or die trying, because they weren't going to get away with this.

He wasn't assigned to the case. His emotions would get in the way, they said. Frank is his friend, they thought that he wouldn't be able to cope with someone who he has a previous relationship with. He has gone to see Frank and Alice in St Mungo's a couple of times and he has paid his condolences to Augusta Longbottom, who he knew reasonably well. But after a while he cut his visits from daily to weekly to monthly because he couldn't bear to see the empty body of his friend going through tests on squeezing balls and drawing pictures. He couldn't bear seeing the grown adult he had once gone out for drinks with having the mind of a two year old. He goes annually now and, although, they have made some progress, their condition is still the same. Insane: stable. Stable, because they aren't going to change, and Kingsley cannot bear that.

Because, for him, his friend died that day. His body may continue to live with water and food, but his mind is no longer the same. He seems a completely different person except for, on one occasion, when Frank had a flicker of recognition in his eyes, when he made to grin at Kingsley, before it all slipped away again. And these small lapses in time, those were what he couldn't stand the most. He was given hope and then, after a second, it was snatched away from him once more.