Foster's Fanfiction
Sorry for the wait, consider this an interlude, because with A-Levels now in full swing I haven't had time write anything substantial but if people take an interest in my story I think it's the very least I can do to upload something. This just covers Frankie's reaction to Dean's restrictions on her access to Mac as well as Dean's. Well my exams finish on the 29th so to be honest I wouldn't expect anything before then, but I will try to get something more substantial than this to you as soon as can after that, please enjoy!
Review Responses
Aden666- I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter, something that will happen quite soon will have far –reaching consequences with Mac and Frankie so if you like Bloo's character you have that to look forward to ;) Thank-you for your patience regarding my erratic updates, and I hope you enjoy the chapter.
roseal- Bloo is to have a more developed role in the next few chapters, so you can find out soon :) enjoy the chapter.
Nameless- Well I am flattered to say the least. I can't tell you how much it means to have your work appreciated to that degree, and if it moved you to tears I suppose I must be doing something right :) I'm very glad you are liking the fic so much, and I hope you enjoy the chapter and continue to make your feelings known.
VivianShadowGirl- I am glad that you decided to review the fic, I very much appreciate any reviews, Thankyou for your comments, I hope you enjoy the chapter.
Dude13- It is good to hear from you again, I was afraid you'd lost interest for a while there :) Dean and Frankie will continue to clash throughout the fic, so I'm glad you enjoy their arguing. Thankyou for your comments, I admit I was dubious to the quality of chapter four so it is good to hear you like it. Thankyou as well for your comment on my descriptive skills, that means a lot. On another note it's very good to see you return to writing Fanfiction, although I am saving reading your updates untl after exams, enjoy the chapter.
Mortal Coil – Chapter 7
Dean scowled, but what was new? Dean scowled all of the time, he drank tea and he scowled, then when his second cup of tea took too long to make, he scowled about that. After slamming the door, and temporarily bracing in case the massive slab of wood came off its hinges, he strolled down the path, to his car. He could see the forms of Terrence and Mac in the back, it looked like Mac was still asleep, and Terrence had his eyes forward.
God Dean just wanted to do something, anything to get out his rage, perhaps sharply rattle a hedge, or maybe something less pathetic looking? Screaming, that would be nice, perhaps punching something and screaming, that would've sufficed, it was a pity that his location strictly prohibited it. Who the hell did that red-haired cretin think she was, he was in his rights to arrest her given how she'd spoken to him. She was damn-lucky he didn't, she displayed the most base knowledge of the law, he was the worker assigned to Mac's case, he got the majority say over what happened to the boy, not her, by what authority could she call him arrogant, or a monster, she bloody couldn't. Dean would've killed for a cuppa, but he had his job to do, and from the look of Terrence's silhouette, he was getting restless. Dean checked his watch and realised he'd been gone the best part of ten minutes.
The PC made his way to his car and opened the door tentatively, most if not all of his fury evaporated upon turning around and seeing his two passengers. Mac was in an uneasy rest, the boy's eyes were red and puffy and a despite his sleeping state he was still tossing and turning. It was a pitiful sight, he would often whimper, before crawling deeper into the relative haven of his brother's arms. Terrence was just ogling worriedly at his payload, he sensed Dean was staring at him and so he looked up miserably.
The teen had been aged by his ordeals, he was all skin and bone and that shivering, it was a constant unnerving presence, like an unwelcome passenger in the car. He looked…fragile would be the right word, he had received some terrible news and it reflected on the whole external package, he stared not just into the eyes of the PC, no, but through them, he stared through Dean, the look was one of crippling indifference. It is strange how many people simply slink off into a state of overwhelming apathy after receiving news like this, the denomination that do experience this emotional equivalent to the colour grey, are divided into two distinct groups.
The ones that have a raging inner conflict, all their questions are located in their head, they want to express themselves, maybe cry or holler about unfairness, but they just don't know how. To them, saying anything would be to violate a self-imposed moments-silence of a non-defined duration, it would be a cardinal sin, they can't talk if their loved one is dead can they? Would that be disrespectful, or is it the vice versa, such inner conflict is hell to its bearer, my God, how they want to scream, you can feel it, if you look into their eyes, you can feel them screaming and shouting at you. They say silence has a sound, a type of dull ringing, and when looking at those type of people this dull ring becomes their shouts and shrieks of anger and grief, and they welcome it, it is after all, expression, the thing that they want the most.
However Terrence was in the other distinct group, the ones who really are on the inside, equal to how they appear on the outside, dull and blank, Dean had read a brief description of the boy's situation and history on the bus ride to the hospital with Mac and that…girl. But back on subject, Terrence had certainly had been given a rough deal in life, Dean just hoped he wouldn't let this get the best of him. He could see all of the conflict in Terrence's eyes, unlike those who just needed to express, Terrence had retreated into himself as a means of escape, the young man was clearly tired, in so many ways, Dean put a reassuring hand on Terrence's knee, some life returned to the teenager's eyes. Immediately his grasp on is slumbering sibling tightened, he clutched his brother protectively and regarded the PC with a mixture of shock and confusion. Dean gave him a knowing smile,
"It's alright mate, we've got about a forty-five minute drive, you catch up on some sleep." Terrence didn't look convinced, his shivering had only slightly, but noticeably increased. Terrence looked gaunt, and weak, this was even more prevalent when he wore a look of dubious fear.
"Nothing's going to happen Terrence, I'm not going to take Mac away from you, you have nothing to worry about." Terrence still looked unconvinced, but even his prominent distrust of the PC was overpowered by his physical and emotional exhaustion, he clutched Mac closer to his body and joined his brother in pseudo-peaceful rest. Dean started up the car, and smiled, even from this small exchange, it was clear the PC's hopes were with the right person to look after Mac, and perhaps if he was lucky, the little boy would stop going to that damn mansion all together, and then maybe, Mac could get through this.
The jolt was what woke Terrence, and in turn his stir had woken Mac, who proceeded to rub his eyes, and look around confusedly. However very quickly a look of sadness came across his face, he remembered the situation, and slumped miserably. Terrence rubbed his back, and it seemed to make the boy feel a bit better, he was glad he could comfort his sibling, it gave Terrence something to throw himself into, something to concentrate on other than the fact that his mother had died. The guilt he felt was crushing him, Terrence had done this, he could see as soon as their eyes met that her health had deteriorated, her weight had increased and her eyes no longer had their twinkle. She was once sprightly and energetic, Terrence could remember when he was younger. He and his Dad would play footy, and then she'd be there when they got back, she'd have a warm meal for them, it was so perfect. But when Terrence had seen her last night, she looked so cripplingly average, pudgy and middle-aged, his mother had let herself go, and it was all his fault. Why else would she give up like that, probably because of the shame from being related to someone like him.
"You guys ready?" Dean had swivelled in his seat, he faced them with that same comforting smile Terrence had seen him wear so frequently. It seemed so practised, so manufactured, it unnerved Terrence, his distrust of the PC was not built upon foundations of realistic fear, like one from a past-experience but a more natural and deep-seated anxiousness. Terrence seemed like a fundamentally flawed possible guardian. Firstly, he didn't have a permanent residence; he also had no source of income as well as the fact that he was only 18. Dean may've said that he wasn't going to take Mac away, but Terrence still couldn't believe him, because everything his mind screamed that the PC was going to do just that. But Terrence couldn't well run away, it may have been a long shot, but Dean was Terrence's only chance to hold onto his little brother, it was out of his hands now.
Frankie was sat one of the various living rooms of Fosters, she neither knew nor cared which one. She had been bundled up here by Herriman and Madame Foster, they had said that she should rest, and that working herself up was going to help no-one. They were talking of course in response to her reaction to the…unpleasantness, downstairs. She had bawled like a child, not in recent memory had she experienced a feeling quite like the one that was threatening to overwhelm her again. Dean might as well of ripped the heart right out of her and stamped it to a useless pulp in front of her very eyes, because that's exactly how she felt now.
The misery she felt came from two areas, firstly she knew she had to help Mac, but she couldn't, the capacity to do so had literally been taken from her, that really did sting. But what hurt the most is that it was her fault, she just had to have the last word, and this is where it had landed her. So it was either sit here blubbering like a damn child, or try to help her friend and get arrested, so she was pretty much buggered either way. Her grandmother had repeatedly said that they would get it sorted, she would do everything she could, and her most uttered phrase, 'he wouldn't get away with this'. Herriman had kept silent though, he knew the truth, Dean was going to 'get away with it' because there was nothing for him get away with. He had simply exercised his power, and he was completely in his rights as a police constable to do what he did. But that didn't change the fact that he had loved doing it, Frankie could tell, he had relished it, the sad bastard probably gets his jollys from ruining lives.
Because he had made it clear Mac was going to end up with that his blatant addict of a brother, the thought of that poor boy, cowering while the person who was supposed to protect him drugged himself up to the eyeballs. The thought itself was enough to draw more tears out of the Foster's caretaker; she buried her head in her hands and sobbed. A pattern had emerged out of her grief, she would cry, but the feeling of sorrow that felt eternal would ebb away and in its stead would be one of anger and injustice, which was what Frankie felt rising in her chest now. It was stifling and oppressive; it was all she could do not to pull her hair out with her bare hands, to rip the wallpaper of the damn walls, to just scream until her throat was raw and bloody.
She felt her hands shaking, her anger blended with her anguish, she looked across to a small table and saw a glass on it, she reached across and seized it, and threw it as hard as she could. It hit the wall, and smashed, shards of glass reverberated of the pink wallpaper and a small but noticeable stain remained from the liquid that the glass' user had presumably left. Frankie grimaced, what little satisfaction that had given her was fleeting at best, a pathetic action with a minor effect on something much larger, it really did sum up herself in this situation.
Frankie slumped back down onto the settee, she felt unsurprised when she heard Herriman hopping towards the room, with those rabbit ears he could hear a rule being broken from a mile away. He poked his head in and took a look at the mess Frankie had made, but to her surprise he didn't chastise her, rather he hopped towards the sofa and sat next to her. The rabbit took of his monocle and cleaned it with a hankie, he put it back on his face and sighed,
"You know getting angry isn't going to solve your problems Frankie," he rarely called her that, informality was reserved for special situations only with the aged bunny. Frankie felt her anger dull once again, and she was pretty sure that this was for good.
"It doesn't matter what I do now, Mac's gone," Frankie tried to stifle her tears in a last ditch attempt to maintain any sort of dignity, but a crack in her voice betrayed her, it mattered not, Herriman could see through her like glass, he put an arm round her. At first she sat still, it was once in a blue moon that Herriman was…well nice, let alone comforting her in her weakest moment. She leaned on his chest and it all hit her again, Frankie's emotions had been following an unpleasant and steady pattern, she would get sad, then angry and in her anger she would forget, before she remembered and the whole damn cycle repeated. Frankie's would've said 'emotional rollercoaster', if it wasn't a completely overused and cheesy phrase. Herriman kept silent, and to Frankie's surprise he didn't care when she began to weep onto his impeccable tuxedo.
"What will happen, will happen Frankie, you cannot change it now, but Master Blooregard still lives in the house, I'd wager Master Mac isn't going to stop visiting,"
"Well…what about what Grandma said?" Herriman sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose,
"Frankie, the Madame has a lot of energy and I think this whole ordeal had caused her to become a bit overexcited, but you must understand, Mr Malkovich is in charge of Mac's case, no matter how much you hate his decision, it will stand, he has the right to ban people from seeing Mac is he thinks it is in the boy's best interest." Frankie's sobs intensified, she gripped tighter onto the chest of the rabbit, he would frequently comfort her when she was little. Maybe that's why she found herself clinging to him now, the whole experience had made her feel so small, so pathetic and helpless. After all, Dean had such an advantage, he had the law on his side, not matter how much she hated it he was going to win. Not in recent memory had Frankie felt so much like a child, small, useless and unthreatening, and threat of losing someone so close to her, it was all so familiar, an unpleasant recurring nightmare that she could not best.
"I already lost my Mum and Dad…I don't want to lose Mac too," Frankie's words were shaky and only just interpretable, but they carried so much weight to Herriman, he had nursed Frankie through one loss and didn't know if she could take another. However he would cross that bridge when he came to it, right now all he could do was hold her and hope that eventually, she would run out of tears.
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