Foster's Fanfiction
Hello everyone, here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it, again is you read please leave me a review, just your feelings on the chapter, some consturctive criticism or even just to share an idea, it really does help. Quick note, Dean is interpreted as in the right by himself and in the wrong by the people at Foster's, neither of these are right as it is morally grey, I would prefer you to make your own conclusions rather than the ones the characters make, enjoy the chapter.
Review Responses
Aden666- Thankyou for continuing to review, I am sorry you weren't totally pleased with the last chapter, I hope that this is more substatial, this chapter is more focused on Bloo so I hope it is more to your tastes, enjoy the chapter and I hope you will continue to help me improve my writing.
Mortal Coil – Chapter 10
"Madame…" Herriman sighed for the fourth time, he had no effect though, the ranting old woman carried on unaware of her figment's would-be interruptions,
"Oh and he won't do it by Jove! It doesn't take a genius to see that my Frankie is the best person to help Mac through this!" Herriman hopped ahead and opened the door she was about to walk straight into.
"Oh no, no he will not get away with this, I'll see to it that he is stripped of his badge, doesn't even deserve one he doesn't! I know people, and I'll be contacting them, we're not just gonna lie down while that privileged little, pompous little, evil little…snake! Takes Mac away from us," Herriman sighed, not automatically but purposefully and with force in an attempt to make his objections known, it didn't work.
"Herriman, fetch me my little black book, Dorothy's son is a lawyer, we'll see what he has to say about this whole affair," Madame Foster heard no obedient hopping down the hallway, she turned to see the rabbit was very much stationary, and looking at the old woman disapprovingly,
"Well bunny, hop to it!" Herriman did not 'hop to it',
"Madame have you not been listening to what I've been telling you?"
"Have you not been listening to what I've been telling you Herriman, we need retribution, that PC what's-his-name can't just ban us from seeing Mac!" Herriman was reaching his wit's end with his creator,
"Madame I have told you, PC Malkovich is well within his rights to do what he did, I don't like it any more than you but we cannot do anything, the best thing to do now is just to keep our heads down and hope our situation doesn't get any worse," Madame Foster shook her head in disappointment,
"I would have thought you'd have cared more than that Herriman." The silvery grey rabbit didn't usually get angry, he preferred to deal with stressors with a cool temper and a stiff upper lip, and if he did get angry it was usually with Bloo or one of the friends, but never had he felt a slither of anger at his beloved Madame, until now.
Everyone just saw him as a stuffy librarian-esque figure, who's only pleasure was to condescend and punish those around him. However to tell the truth, Herriman didn't mind that persona at all, it made people more weary of him and therefore more likely to obey the rules, but to have his Mistress, his creator, the one who gave him any sense of corporeality in this world, to say that he didn't care, that knocked down his carefully and impeccably selected barriers, that made him angry.
"Madame, I have been more than patient with you, but you refuse to see sense, so here's some. You cannot do a single thing to change PC Malkovich's mind, and if you even try you are more likely to make him just never let Master Mac through our doors again. Give up this childish fantasy of revenge, because you will not now, nor ever get any, our chances of ever seeing the boy again lie in the hands of a man who despises both you and Miss Frances, I would wager he's just waiting for the excuse to bundle Master Mac away from us forever, and you're going to give it to him. So prior to accusing me of not caring, perhaps question as to whether you care enough yourself to try and see through your petulant red haze of indignation, and really think ahead, because if you cared enough, you'd know that poking the sleeping lion is likely to get you bitten, so do you still want your little black book?"
What an odd sensation, Herriman felt his throat hurt ever so slightly, also his cheeks were burning. Perhaps he was coming down with a fever, but no…he was gasping ever so slightly all symptoms pointed to…he had been shouting, he had raised his voice at his mistress, and the most shocking part of this revelation was that he didn't feel sorry,
"Well?" She didn't answer, she turned around and hobbled down the adjacent corridor, Herriman steadied himself against a nearby wall, he really had shouted, he wondered how loud he had gone, to what extents of uncharacteristic fury had he ventured? He should be hopping madly after the Madame, begging her forgiveness, but he wasn't, the Madame was a strong willed woman, left unhindered by age or adversity, a telling off by her creation wasn't going to beat her down. And still, everyone in the house had taken blows today, Herriman didn't even know whether Master Mac's friends even knew about the whole situation yet.
Without the spirit of its owner and the unwavering dedication of its caretaker would Foster's function at all? Lord knows between Frances' crying and the Madame's ranting there would certainly not be many chores getting done. Herriman was certainly an industrious and sharp minded hare, but he knew he couldn't keep this institution running by himself. Before Herriman knew it he had reached his office, large door in a wall adorned with clocks, all ticking and tocking, all correct to the second, to the millisecond, they stood for what Herriman stood for, inescapable order and correctness.
So why was it that when Herriman looked at their white blank faces they promoted a feeling of dread in the Foster's house president, it was like they were counting down to something, something big, something terrible. He gloomily opened the doors to his office and trudged in, his massive pile of paperwork lay untouched, oh how he would have once jumped to the job, but today it was different, he just couldn't be bothered with the whole affair, he couldn't be arsed with signing his name on dotted lines and checking boxes and totting up accounts and printing in capitals and remembering dates and times.
It all just seemed like a colossal waste of his time. A framed picture adorned his wall, he remembered it's story well, Herriman couldn't sew, but the Madame could. She had point blank refused, but he had begged and begged until she finally caved and embroidered the slogan of which the rabbit had only the upmost faith in.
"Rules are Cool!" He pinched the bridge if his nose, he had never realised before how utterly sad that was, not as in the opposite of happy, but truly just pathetic. Herriman had spent his entire life obeying the rules, because without rules there would be chaos, annoying teenagers flock the streets with slogans like 'Fuck the Police' and 'Down with the System', and Herriman had always looked at them with contempt for their stupidity, but for once the rules didn't seem right.
The 'rules' had caused a bereaved child to be taken away from the place and people that he loves the most in the world, by a complete stranger and given to someone who, if Frances was right, was wholly unsuitable.
The old rabbit's thoughts were shattered by a sharp rapping on the door, he got up and straightened himself in the mirror, he had had a bad day, but there was no need to take it out on the customers. He hopped from his office and opened the door a crack, on the other side was a grungy looking teenager, he could only be eighteen at best, he was very skinny, so much that his clothes hung off him, giving him a look of tininess and vulnerability, however the most noticeable thing about him was how he shivered, it was still a glorious day and yet the boy shook like it was minus 3 outside.
"Hello my boy, with what may I help you?"
"Hello, erm…I'm here to adopt a friend…called erm….Bloo," Mr Herriman took in the image of the boy, before shaking it off and replying curtly,
"I'm sorry my good man, that friend has a special arrangement, you see he still belongs to-" Herriman was cut off by a low, throaty chuckle, he opened the door as wide as it could go to see…oh no. Dean was standing there, with his hand on Master Mac's shoulder; Master Mac was wearing a very small, almost non-existent smile. It paled in comparison to Dean's who looked like the happiest man in the world.
"Oh, Mr Herriman," he began, "I don't think that's going to be a problem."
Frankie felt…resigned would be the right word, her body was no longer shaking with throaty sobs, punctuated by fits of frantic coughing, she had decided to put a stop to that and cease to act like a 5 year old at the supermarket who wasn't getting their perceived minimum amount of chocolate. But her gambit to act her age had failed spectacularly and Frankie was simply lying on the settee quietly, with her eyes closed and her mouth shut. Her hearing had seemed to sharped, every crackle of the fire, an unneeded pleasantry on a day as hot as this, was so clear.
Occasionally friends would go past some would notice her and others wouldn't, or at least pretend not to. One uncomfortable encounter led to Mr Edmondson staring at her for twenty minutes with his dull, lustreless eyes. Frankie groaned, she could feel a shadow come across her, the small amount of light that had been penetrating through her eyelids had dulled, she opened her eyes to find one of the friends starting at her.
"Who was that man?" Bloo asked her with a childish curiosity and naivety she had never seen with him before.
"What man Bloo?" She was bluffing, she knew exactly who he was asking about, but if she pretended it wasn't a big deal it may…may help Bloo. Another bluff, pretending that the whole thing didn't matter was to help herself, and it wasn't working.
"The man in the foyer, who was shouting at you," Bloo was a clever little guy, he had much wisdom beyond his years, bearing in mind his intelligence was more a Machiavellian one that any other, he still seemed quicker than most. But now he just seemed so small, so naïve, it stuck out when he spoke, Bloo would have usually referred to Dean as 'that loudmouth' or 'that stupid guy', but not, 'that man who was shouting at you'.
"He was a policeman Bloo," Frankie sighed, finding the day's ordeals had rather tired her out.
"So why was he shouting at you, why was he talking about Mac?" Frankie sighed again, before dragging herself, with considerable effort, to sit up, she patted the space next to her on the settee and Bloo hopped up. 'That man was a complete fucking prick, whom will be brutally murdered with a pick-hammer the next time he is seen by myself,' that is what Frankie wanted to say to anyone asking her that question, because, omitting the pick-hammer part, that was a completely valid sentence.
Dean was a total arsehole, her anger had laid dormant while she went catatonic, but now it was back, the only thing grounding her and preventing the young woman from punching the wall was the fact that she had her arm around Bloo, he was going to suffer in all of this too, and Frankie was still his caregiver.
"Bloo, that policeman was in charge of what happens to Mac, now that… now that his mum is gone."
"Is Mac coming to live here?" Frankie sighed once again; Bloo really wasn't making this easier.
"I don't think so Bloo, De… the policeman said he didn't think I was right to take care of Mac,"
"He said Mac would be better if you didn't see him," Bloo recounted, much to the displeasure of Frankie, "Why?" She stared at him, his question bore no malice, it wasn't meant to annoy or spite, he simply wanted to know. Considering how much he winds him up, Frankie often forgot how much Bloo cared for Mac, one barely felt right without the other, maybe that was what was up with the blob, without his creator he simply didn't have that spark.
"When I was young my parent's died Bloo, the policeman thinks that I'm…projecting my pain onto Mac and just…making the situation worse," She hung her head, thinking of Dean's sneering face and condescending voice, seeds of doubt had been sewn, was she really just making it harder on Mac?
"He's lying," Frankie was snapped out of her self-doubt by the voice of Bloo,
"What?"
"He's lying," Bloo repeated calmly, seeming closer to his original self, "He knows how good you are, if you cared for Mac, he would get better so much quicker, and the policeman wouldn't be needed, he'd be out of the job, so he's trying to protect himself." Could it be true, Dean had seemed so sure when he said Frankie had been exacerbating the situation, but could he really just be out for number one. He had banned her from seeing Mac outside of hospital, so he clearly had the capacity to be cruel, could he really just trying to protect himself, who would jeopardise a child's wellbeing for such a trivial purpose. And in that moment she remembered him, looming over her, his stony expression hiding one of twisted pleasure while he separated Mac and her, surely one who would do something so abhorrent would have no care for the feelings of one small boy, surely he was lying, such a man seemed incapable of true care. In any case, she smiled at the blob, before snaking her arms around his mid-section and giving him a tender hug,
"Thankyou Bloo."
"I'm just going to get some juice," He said, and jumped of the settee, before walking to the door, however, as he made his way into the hall, he froze, staring down it at a presence Frankie couldn't see, but she heard the sound of footsteps coming closer,
"Ah, you must be Bloo," she felt the blood run cold in her veins, it couldn't be, Frankie tiptoed to the doorway and poked out her head, sure enough, her peacoat clad antagonist was outside the door, crouched down to Bloo's level,
"I've been sent up to get you, the tannoy thing's broken, Mr Herriman needs you in his office, but don't worry, you're not in trouble," Bloo remained frozen, Frankie couldn't see his expression, but she guessed it was in fear. Dean however didn't seem to pick up on the signals, he looked confused by the figment's sudden silence.
"Erm…my name's Dean," he smiled and did his best to seem friendly,
"Bloo go down to Mr Herriman's office," the Blob turned around and Dean looked up, both their eyes fixed on Frankie's while their expressions shifted to opposite ends of the spectrum, Bloo looking relieved, and Dean looking sour. The blob did as he was told, and Dean turned to accompany him, however Frankie joined them, Dean immediately stopped,
"Is there something I can help you with?" He asked, his voice thick with irritation,
"No, just some cleaning I need to do in the foyer," Frankie replied curtly,
"I really don't think-" Frankie immediately cut him off,
"Sorry PC Malkovich, but I still have a job to do," Frankie did her best to sound innocent, but both parties knew why she was accompanying them, and the redhead couldn't resist adding a slightly mocking tone to her voice. Dean looked her up and down , before chuckling slightly,
"Have it your way then," he muttered as the three resumed their journey to the expansive Foster's lobby, one scared, one irritated and one smirking triumphantly.
They reached the foyer, and Dean and Bloo moved into Herriman's office, Frankie went to follow them however no sooner was he under the threshold, Dean wheeled around and grabbed both handles of the double doors, he winked at Frankie before slamming them in her face. Oh that son of a bitch, Frankie glowered at the space he once stood, before racking her brains trying to remember if they had a pick-hammer in the house. She knelt down, and squinted through the key-hole,
"Where's Frankie?" Frankie's heart leapt at the voice, it was Mac. He looked worse for wear, his voice was throaty and it sounded like it was an effort for the boy just to speak.
"Oh, Frankie had some work to do," Dean replied, earning a dirty look from Bloo that went unnoticed.
"Master Blooregard, I suppose you're wondering why you're here, well it seems that Master Mac want's to adopt you out," Herriman said with a warm smile, however Frankie had known the rabbit for a very long time, she could tell it was forced, it was only to make Bloo feel better about the whole affair.
"You mean…?"
"You can come and live with me again Bloo," Bloo jumped of his chair and gave Mac a very forceful hug, so forceful that the two young ones left the field of Frankie's restricted, keyhole-vision. She saw Dean and Herriman smile at their affection, Dean's smile looked…genuine. But it didn't last, he looked to the rabbit and gave a nod, to which Herriman gestured to an unseen occupant.
"Terrence if you would sign here we can be done," oh hell. He was there, he was shivering noticeable again, and every time she saw him his skinniness gave her the creeps, Mac's soon to be legal guardian signed the paper and shared a smile with Dean, Frankie felt her knees go weak, she tried to get up and stumbled, suddenly an overwhelming wave of nausea swept over her, worry racked her insides, worry and bitter, unresolved vehemence. She sped to the nearest bathroom and, not a moment too late, collapsed over the bowl, she emptied her stomach in three painful retches.
As Frankie got up again she looked at herself in the mirror, a personification of the negative feeling stared back. Her worry an anger had made her sick, literally, when one's feeling's manifest with physical reactions their strength cannot be doubted. Frankie washed her face, and looked again, her eyes were bloodshot, and even more attention was drawn to them considering the ghastly black rings around them. She heard voices in the foyer again, so she peeked out of the door, and was confronted with the sight of Mac and Bloo, Terrence had his arms on both of their shoulders. This affectionate and comforting act was only seen as possessive by Frankie, who felt indignation build up in the pit of her now empty stomach.
"Can I say goodbye to my friends?" Bloo asked his elders,
"I'm sorry, we have to get down to the courts before 6, if you want to say goodbye to your friends we'll have to pick you up tomorrow," Dean replied, Bloo looked down for a seconds, before making up his mind,
"I want to stay with Mac," Dean plastered across his face a look of…pride? Frankie had initially gone to interpret it as victory, but no, it was unmistaken admiration of the Blob's actions.
"Hold on, what about my stuff?"
"I went up to find you, but you weren't in your room, so I grabbed your stuff," Mac admitted, gesturing to a green duffle bag by the door, "It was mostly just paddleballs anyway," Bloo chuckled. Dean tossed Terrence the keys to his car and asked the teenager to go with the boys and wait for him. No sooner had they left then was Frankie speeding out of the bathroom towards the now conversing Dean and Herriman.
"Mr Herriman, are you gonna let this happen?" They both turned to her, Herriman wore a look of guilt, however Dean had no such bad feeling,
"Right on cue," he muttered, much to the displeasure of Frankie,
"Excuse me,"
"Oh I'm sorry, 'right on cue' I was referring to the fact that you can't keep your nose out of things that don't concern you," Dean retorted venomously, a lot clearer this time.
"Mr Herriman, you can't let Bloo go and live with that…that drug addict,"
"Miss Frances, Master Mac wanted to adopt Bloo out, I had no choice, he is Mac's imaginary friend I cannot simply say no," Mr Herriman implored, she glowered at him, before returning her attention to Dean.
"I suppose you are behind this," Dean sighed sharply,
"Considering I am not a comic-book villain, I am not behind anything," he sneered,
"If you think that-"
"What, how about if you think that if I'm going to take your lip you've got another thing coming, so keep your mouth shut, because I don't think you'd like what happens next!" He spat, Frankie reeled back in shock, his venomous tone enough to interrupt her flow, but not for long. Frankie was about to give the power-tripping brute a piece of her mind, when she felt a small tug on her hoodie. It was her grandmother, her previous ally; both her and Mr Herriman fixed their glances on the old woman in anticipation to how she might tip the scales. To everyone's surprise she looked at Frankie with forlorn and aged eyes, and simply shook her head.
"Well, maybe if you can train her to act like that Madame I may let her see Mac," the old woman bit her lip, it took all of her effort not to scream in his face, but she had come to her senses earlier, her bunny was right. They had to care enough to have some foresight, even if that meant enduring Dean right now. The PC gave Mr Herriman a curt nod, grabbed Bloo's bag and left the building, leaving the Frankie, Madame Foster and Herriman in the foyer. They looked around each other mournfully, their last link to Mac had been taken away and there wasn't a damn thing they could do about it, never before had they felt so utterly…helpless.
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