A/N: I was asked, "Is Fred a Frog?" And the answer is no. My reason for this is that Fran is still planning her big debut with her frogs. They'll make appearances throughout the story later on, but I'm saving them for later.
I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you for the reviews!
Disclaimer: I do not own Meet the Robinsons. Doing this for fun a.k.a do not sue Diseny-you won't be getting nothing!!
"Cornelius, is everything alright?"
Cornelius could have jumped at the contact. He had never been as comfortable with human contact as he would have liked, and sulking in the dimness of the living room did not help his problem. The tender touch of another human brought an unnerving reaction, and he found his muscles tensing without thinking. He didn't jump; he remained glued onto the worn couch, his fingers dangling with a half-finished project that he wasn't aware of until now. "Hmm…come again?"
Lucille always understood her son's wariness of the human touch. Hugs were never a problem, nor were kisses, but it seemed, ever since he was a boy, that a simple hand shake or a pat on the back would unpack a set of nerves carefully preserved inside his brain. He had always been sensitive about that, and in more ways than one he had tried to pass simply as something that would pass over the years. Years had passed, and Cornelius still seemed jumpy.
"Is anything wrong?" He didn't know anyone was still home. Art had left on an emergency delivery earlier that morning, and Budd had departed to Lucky Lakes for his annual fishing trip. As for Lucille, Cornelius had to recall that he did not know where his mother had departed for the day. "No, nothing's wrong Mom, um…where did you come from?"
At this, Lucille could not hold back a chuckle. "I had left this morning for the grocery shopping, and I came home later on this evening." In her grandmotherly fashion, she reached over the aged couch, taking a seat beside her son. On the living room table, pieces of table and scrap were spread over, leaving oil stains and other gooey messes all over. "I take you've been trying to fix something up!"
Cornelius bit his lip and nodded. "Yes, I've been trying to fix something up. It seems I don't know what that something is anymore." His shoulders felt heavier than before, and he lowered his head in shame. Lucille watched her son with unwavering understanding, and it was an understanding that Cornelius had no clue about.
"Do you have any blueprints ready?" Her eyes scanned the mess. Even she could not detect a scrap of paper hinting at a blueprint. It came to her in a rush; it was obvious that her son was simply working just to be working. There was no inspiration, motivation, not a spec of creativity in this. Above anyone in the family, Lucille knew that without a reason to do, Cornelius would forever be in a slump. "I'll take that as a no."
"I had one…" he caught her skeptic gaze, "but I threw it away."
"And why would you do something like that? You know you need a blue print, dear."
"I-I was going to keep it, you know, I always keep my blueprints, even for failed attempts. It's just that this one, I don't even know what to call it anymore! I didn't have the heart to bring it to the garage or even to the lab! It's just that bad!" He had to catch a breath he didn't even know he was holding until he finished rambling. Wires, metals, and other pieces of the failed attempt surrounded the table, and some dripping onto the carpet. That is never going to come out. "Well, honey, maybe you're doing something not in the blueprints, flying solo I presume."
The normally composed man found himself unraveling. "I don't know Mom, I don't know."
There were times in the past when Cornelius would run to Lucille in tears. She did not know what the problem was, but she always found herself opening her arms readying herself for a hug without hesitating. Those years were over, of course, but this moment happening reminded her of those times. How fondly she looked back at them. Attentively, she placed her clean hand over his smudged one and gave him a comforting smile. As if they had played this role only seconds before instead of years ago, Cornelius curled his hand into hers, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Glad to see that you're calming dear; now, how far along is she?"
A pang of shock ran through him when those words came from his mother. His grip tightened but only slightly, and he found his eyes widening. Behind his glasses, Lucille could have laughed at his bewildered expression, but her motherly tone pulled her away from doing so. "You-wait, how did you, how could you," he stated incredulously but not pulling away, "we haven't told anyone."
Shaking her head at his look of shock, she let out a small laugh, "Honey, I'm a woman and more importantly I'm a grandmother. We grandmas have our ways of finding out." He was ready to open his mouth and respond with the illogical sense of her statement, but he could not find a word to retort with his mother's. In a resigned manner he only nodded, finding himself at a lost with words.
"Do you know how far she is?" He gave out a shaky "no" and found himself sinking again.
Lucille was treading of shaky grounds and she knew it. "Are you happy that she's expecting?" When those words came out, Cornelius could have thrown up. He knew his mother did not mean anything cruel with her words, she was just asking, but deep down inside-behind the internal organs, he had to ask himself the same question. Are you happy?
"Yes. I'm very happy." A relief washed over him, ending the seemingly lifelong pause. "I'm extremely happy. Wilbur needs a sibling, but…"
"Franny isn't happy." The look on her son's face, in that instance she wished to turn back the clock of time and wrap him up in her arms again. The distant expression, miserable she had to say, made her uncomfortable and protective. Emotions she had not felt since the day her son came to her on the topic of marriage. "I don't know if she is or if she isn't. We've discussed it, the possibility of another pregnancy, but now-it seems, she's been avoiding the topic all together now, and I don't know what to do."
It had been a week; he counted. He would breach the discussion, hoping to lead her into a conversation or an argument at least, but she would see right through it. Sometimes, he did not even have to try. He would idly bring it up, and she would have something to do. Rehearsal with the boys. Have to train Frankie and the troupe. Always an excuse, always something that needed to be done, but this, the baby, could not be touched, could not be discussed. He had been shot down so many times, he had somehow given up hope; after tonight, before she left, he did make it clear that it was necessary that they do discuss it, if not for themselves but for the sake of the child.
Lucille sat quietly beside her son, her attention never fading and her grasp on his hand never lifting. Sinking all the information, from the beginning of Fran's symptoms to the decision to take the home test, she sat silently, her brain processing all the information. When he had finally finished his tale of woe he seemed drained and paler than usual. "Lewis, based off what you have said, it sounds like Franny is afraid."
He nearly growled, "I'm afraid too Mom, but I'm not doing this. It's not right and more importantly, it's not fair."
"No, its not, but you have to understand." Her voice was the opposite of Cornelius' bubbling anger. "You have to understand that as a woman-Franny is allowed to be afraid. I'm sure she is happy, and I am positive that she wants the baby, but she's afraid, Lewis. She's afraid of the birth itself; she's afraid of what things will change after the birth."
"Isn't that the point of a new baby?" He stated in a dry tone, "Babies come, things change. We've got to move forward."
"And I am sure that is what Fran plans to do." Patting his hand, "But Lewis, remember this, Franny is not your mother." She quickly added on when she saw his face contort into something misunderstanding and shock, "She's not going to give up on you and Wilbur. She's not going to give up on this." Taking another heavy sigh, Lucille released her hand from Cornelius and gave him a soft pat on the back, "Just think about it son. I'm sure you two will do fine. You're father's going to be home soon; I need to get these groceries up!"
"Oh, let me help you!"
Lucille shook her head and motioned for him to sit, and he did. "No, no, no you need to think and breathe. You also need to clean up that mess you made, but think about it first okay?" She finished her statement with a kiss on his forehead, smiling, before she walked off into the kitchen, humming a little tune. Cornelius slumped into the warmth of the couch, pondering over what his mother had told him.
"What a lady!"
"She really knows how to blow the house!"
Words of encouragement and compliments brought a strong, satisfied small on Fran's face. If only they could hear Frankie; he'll tear the house down. She mused lightly; this caused a slight tumbling inside her. She dismissed it off, the show must go on!
"Oh, doesn't she look lovely." Moving her small hips left to right in rhythm to the music, Sandra could not help but pull off a pearly white smile of liking. Not only was her first festival going great, but the performances were better! All her guests, even the stuck up "old age" composers could not help but tap their feet and stare in both awe and pleasure of the ever young Francesca Robinson. What a wonderful idea it was to invite her!
Solemnly standing beside the moving Sandra, her hands crossed over her chest, and her cynic eyes tracing over the music and band members, Charlene kept her face pressed down on a firm measure. "Don't you think she's a bit off?"
"Oh, you're just jealous!" Sandra twirled, "She's grabbing in even the snooty patooties!"
Charlene ignored the earlier comment, only narrowing her eyes. There was definitely something off. "I don't know Sandy. It just seems, something is not right. She's lacking something."
"Honestly Charlie love," Sandra's pink bubble dress was all Charlene could see, "if you have something negative to say then say it later. Voices carry you know!"
"Yes, yes I know." A grimace was developing on her face, "She's doing fine I supposed, but it's not like what it was at rehearsal." She could not pin point it, but she could feel it. Although she had been mocked about her "superstitions", Charlene had never been wrong about them before and she didn't plan for them to be wrong now.
"If you're going to be a sloth in a tree, I'm gonna go dance with my lovebug, oh lovie poo!!" Sandra McClain waltzed over to her husband, who had seen too many late night binges at the refrigerator.
"Over and over I fall back in love with you…"
What a funny feeling it was. It was bubbly feeling; a strange feeling that tickled her insides. Fred's voice was enticing the crowd. If she could hold out for only a little bit longer, then she could make her get away. Sandra and Charlene could watch Wilbur, of only for a few minutes.
"I could never love a girl like youuuuuu!!!"
High notes had never been Fred's strong point. It had taken them many late nights forcing his vocal chords to agree with their desires. Fran could not have been prouder than she was of her main singer; his voice was pulling her through the night. This night was not only a potential night for her, but for her band as well. They were all holding out on this performance, and Fran was going to make sure that she was going to make her boys get through this.
Even if it meant holding down a large case of bile forcing its way out.
"Francesca Robinson and her Froggy Troupe, give her a hand everyone!!"
It was over, finally. She could breathe out a breath of relief, she had made it. Her slim figure, despite her first pregnancy, turned towards the crowd and made a short curtsy. The applause was roaring, not as roaring as her seniors (the grudgingly respectful ones), but it was still a roaring applause. The feeling inside was becoming harsher now, and a small headache was creeping into her temples, but she could handle it.
"Absolutely fantastic, such poise, such refined movements, my dear you are a professional!"
"Why thank you, but I could not have done it without my boys. Please, give them a hand!"
She blew a kiss to the young men on stage, and gracefully she made her way down the stairs. As she walked towards the bottom, Fran could swear that her vision was getting blurry; as she did earlier and several times before, she brushed off the feeling and found her eyesight in focus. She could not get the focus on her body; the feeling was getting stronger and stronger, the bile wanted to be release. Pressing a smile on her face, both a mixture of frustration, nauseous, and happiness, she made her way towards the small mob of people circling around her.
"I've heard that you were good, but not this good!"
"Oh my, you must participate in the Grand Musical Festival Mrs. Robinson; you'll be amazing!"
"Thank you, thank you. Oh yes, my boys and I practice at least three times a week. For the Festival, I'll think about it." She tactfully kept up with the hurling questions, but her steps were wavering, she was wavering. So many people, so many of them, not enough to hold on to.
"Mrs. Robinson…"
Afraid to open her mouth.
"Mrs. Robinson…"
She couldn't open her mouth.
"Franny…Franny honey bunny, you're looking a bit green."
She was gone.
"Everyone move!" Hunching over, Fran's mouth open widely to release the contents of her previous meal. As she threw up, she felt her feet moving still, and around her body a pair of equally thin arms, securing her from the growing mob. "That's okay Franny, that's okay, come on, hold on to me-we're almost there."
She heard the sound of a door opening and closing. Still, she did not know where she was. She didn't need to answer, her head was dunk into a toilet and she knew where she was. The soothing voice over head continued to ring her ears, "Its alright, come on, throw it all up. You're going to be fine."
Her head was inside a toilet, her body was forcing out all its contents, and she could still hear.
"Hey Lewis, this is Charlene. Oh yes, yes the festival went fine-well, Franny, she was great until…oh, don't over react! She just threw up that's all, that's all." She released a sigh of exasperation, "You're overreacting again. Look, I'm going to bring her home and Wilbur. Do not worry; she's fine, I'm just going to clean her up and I'll drive her home. All her things are being packed as we speak, we'll be home in the next thirty minutes."
Spitting out the last piece of bile, Franny's head poked out from the toilet and her body hit the wall with a soft thud. "Duke will be arriving shortly. I called him up, he was already at a convention nearby, he'll be driving my car and bring home Charles. But, I will be bringing Franny and Wilbur home, just keep a light on, 'kay? Good, bye Lewis and remember-do not overreact-breathe."
The sound of the click meant the ending of the conversation.
Using what little strength she had left, Fran pushed herself up onto the toilet seat, not caring if she got vomit on her dress or not.
"If it means anything, they loved you out there." Charlene shrugged, "You were pretty stiff out there though."
She laughed a little, "I'm sure they love me much more since I threw up all over them." Head hung low, she laughed a little more to keep the tears from rolling down.
"Sweetie, trust me, they're not worrying about your after show." Her laughter reeling her in, "Trust me, I got enough of it on my dress." Raising her head, Fran's eyes widened, and then a pitiful but humorous look crossed her features. "Oh, oh-I'm so sorry Charlie," she choked back a laugh, "I didn't know where I was aiming!"
Nicely placed in the middle of her dress, a large brownish-yellowish stain was pressed onto Charlene's dress. Using a towel she found on a rack, the woman tried to wipe away the mess in vain. "It's not funny you know," she scowled, "I'm glad you find amusement at my humiliation."
"No, no," she laughed hysterically, "I don't find-well, yes I do, it's just that I was so worried about puking on someone else, I didn't think you would be standing right in front of me!" Charlene frowned at her friends amused state; clutching her arms around her waist, her lips sprawled out in uncontrolled laughter. Her appearance may be disapproving, but Fran knew that her feelings were the opposite.
"Ha-ha it is funny, ha-ha it is to laugh. Good to see you're doing better; now get up before your husband has a heart attack."
"If you had only told me…"
"Sandy, please, I'm sorry if I ruined your evening."
"Ruined? Honey Bunny, you made the party! Everyone's talking about ya!"
"Oh really…"
"Next time, if you're not feeling well, you better say something!" Sandy perked up, "Don't worry about it! All is well!"
"You're darn straight she better say something next time," Charlene called from the car, "now, hurry up, this stuff is starting to smell!"
The party had only just begun. It was ending early for Fran. Duke was waiting patiently in his car with his sleeping toddler in the back seat, much like her own. She only caught a glimpse of the man, his face appeared stoic in the night, his lips pressed firmly into a grim line. As Fran walked towards the running car, she saw a glimmer of a smile on his lips and he nodded slowly; she could only return the sentiment before getting in the passenger seat.
"Is Wilbur strapped in?"
"Yes, he is. Duke made sure." Charlene made her way out of the driveway, "Poor baby, completely tuckered out, and its only 9:30!"
"That's a good thing." Fran sighed, "Only have to clean and tuck him in."
"Same with Charles, cake wars can be so vexing." The duo shared a brief laugh; then they went silent. Duke followed them, pausing every now and then because of traffic signals. Fran took quick glances at Charlene and vice versa, "I guess you want to know what happened."
"Just waiting for you to start talking."
Fran knew she was. It was always like this. Fran would blow up, and Charlene would be sitting by just waiting. Sometimes, if only once, Fran wish it could be the other way around. For right now, she would have to settle for this, "We got into a fight."
"Naturally."
"He doesn't think I want the baby," she sighed, "but I do want it."
"Have you ever given him any reason not to think that way?" She clutched the driver's wheel, "Remember Franny, Cornelius was abandoned-" Fran shot her look that could have killed her right then and there, "You think I don't know that!?"
"Of course you do-let me finish," she stated sharply, "if you act a bit distant or avoiding him slash the baby topic (she shot her look) then he's going to take it in a different way-a bad way. All I'm saying is that you have anything you have to tell him, then just tell him because I don't have time for all this drama!"
"You always say that." She rolled her eyes, "When don't you have drama going on in your life." Leaning back into the passenger seat, "I don't know. There are so many things to do with a baby. With Cornelius job and his parents and Art and Wilbur, I don't think we'll have the time to raise another baby." Hearing those words out loud, Fran knew how true they were. There were many things to do with a new baby; how could they handle it now? Cornelius was already a renowned inventor, his future was secured, but they were still working up. He's not at his height, yet, and neither am I.
"We're not at that point in our lives yet, you know. So many things…" Trailing off when she didn't know she was, Fran slumped into her eat, feeling dejected.
"While I'm pleased to hear you tell me these things, you should tell Cornelius." She laughed softly, "That's why you're married, and besides Duke and I have own marital issues to go through."
"Wait what, what's going-"
"Another time, another pregnancy," she gave her a stern look, "don't worry-with a man like Cornelius, you four will be fine. He has to be most patient man on the planet, well, the most patient one I've ever met."
"Yes," Fran mused, "he really is understanding." Approaching the Robinson home, the two ladies saw the said man running towards the moving car. Ensuring that she did not hit the overly worried, panicked, husband and father, Charlene parked directly on the driveway. Unbuckling their seat belts, and moving swiftly to unbuckle Wilbur before her husband starting the honking the horn, Charlene handed the sleeping toddler to his mother, without getting bile on him.
"Franny, oh my god, I was worried!" He reached the three, panic visibly shown, "I told you shouldn't have gone, are you okay, is the baby alright?"
"Lewis, Lewis," she pacified him, "don't get so worked up, it's only morning sickness. Well, I guess, its night sickness." She laughed.
Cornelius' concern did not wash away so easily. He stood above the women and scanned his wife with the same set of eyes he scanned whenever he was not sure on whether or not a project was completed or not, but she had shown no injury and seemed healthy enough. We are definitely visiting the doctor. Wil was sleeping soundly on her shoulder; it was fine, he guessed.
"Charlene," he reached out to hug her, "oh-oh, eh, eh-ewww."
"Yes, yes, I know I'm covered in your wife's throw up-I hope she's happy!" She turned away from him, rushing to her husband who was waiting patiently in the car on the street, "And I hope you're happy too Robinson, you're paying the bill!"
"Thank you Charlene!" He wrapped his arm around his wife and son, bringing the two close to him, "Night Duke and I will be paying the bill, send it to me!" The woman waved him off, and her husband gave him a slight wave. She entered the waiting car, and they drove off into the night, their car disappearing from view in the darkness. The three stood out in the night, watching them go, and Cornelius gave Fran a soft kiss on her forehead.
Chuckling, "I guess I have some 'splannin to do."
"Yes you do," they began to walk towards the house. He made sure the door was lock and ready, the alarm went off immediately, "It can wait until morning; we have to tuck in Wil."
Fran's waiting form turned to him, smiling softly as she did so. Her lips were curved up in a half form way, not yet a smile and not yet a frown. He never understood how someone could make such a delicate and somehow beautiful form; his Fran had always been the one to do the impossible. "What happened to Wil? He's drooling away."
"He and Charlie had a cake war during the party," she bounced him softly, "isn't that right, Tadpole?"
They were responded with a sleepy nod and more drool.
Cornelius turned off the last set of lights and ascended the stairs along with his wife and sleeping son. Things were not set right yet, not as they should, but he could feel it-they were moving in the right direction. After all, all they had to do to make it where they want to be is to keep moving forward.
A/N: Charlene appeared in "Rebellion at its Greenest" I had so much fun with her I didn't want to let her go. I think Fran could use a friend like her, considering that she and Wilbur are alike when she was a girl. She's Franny's Carl to Wilbur.
"Annoying little girl I don't have time for this, I have a very important-"
"Don't sass me boy. I know Karate!!" Karate chop!!
Me: "Full of Win."
You can tell that they are related; its too canny! Love those two. We really need more fics with little Franny and Wilbur together. All the trouble they will cause.
All type of reviews, alerts, favorites, and etc. are greatly appreciated!! Thank you for the fun!
