Ack, I'm sorry! HUGE apologies to all those who I told via review replies or PM's the next update would be soon. I'm sorry, finals plus the holidays just ganged up, and...ack, I'm sorry, my bad entirely.
Showing off a set of gleaming freshly brushed teeth as he plodded into the room, Mac smiled as he bid happily,
"Good night, Fra…huh?"
The pajama-garbed nine-year-old grunted bewilderedly once he realized that his guardian's bedroom was unoccupied, which was frankly a bit unusual. Considering the strenuous work she performed every day, usually he found her preparing for a good night's rest the same time as him. Even if Frankie did plan on turning in at a later hour, usually he would still be able to find her here, dutifully ready to make sure he went to bed on time.
Needless to say, he found tonight's absence a tad puzzling. But slight befuddlement wasn't nearly enough to deter him from skipping their bedtime routine tonight, which was usually observed almost religiously. Convincing himself she was just busy somewhere, but still not too far off, the child promptly made a quick exit and began walking down the hall, calling,
"Frankie? Frankie, are you-"
Suddenly, before he knew it the little boy was nearly spooked clear out of his skin and halfway to death before the entire house suddenly reverberated from rooftop to cellar with a window-shattering shriek of fury echoing from the floor below,
"I TOLD YOU TO GO TO BED! NOW!"
For Mac, as he nursed aching eardrums, it was literally painfully clear who was screeching so ferociously it seemed like she was just about ready to viciously dismember some unlucky soul upon the spot.
Fearing that something was horrifically wrong, the child bolted for the nearest staircase and began hastily descending as fast as his little legs could carry him. On the way down, a bolt of azure abruptly rocketed by in the opposite direction, yelping shrilly as it fled like mad to safety.
"I'm going! I'm going! I'm going!" Bloo wailed in absolute terror as he threw every ounce of energy he possessed into a wild dash, rushing onwards regardless of how many times he tumbled and fell flat on his face in his frantic haste.
As the badly spooked blob retreated out of sight, immediately Mac hastily redoubled his pace. As common as it was for Bloo to be scolded, rarely had the child witnessed his creation rebuked to the point where the little creature genuinely feared for his very life. Unsure whether he was plunging headlong into danger or not, Mac nevertheless dashed down into the foyer, where immediately he spotted an enormously haggard redhead, hard at work.
Murmuring darkly under her breath, Frankie didn't even notice her charge as she focused all her energy into her current task. As she kneeled, cleaning the floor with such ferocity it looked as if she were trying to scrub the very tiles from existence, Mac paused on the lat step for a few moments before finding the courage to inquire bravely,
"…Frankie?"
Instantly, her head whipped up as she glared daggers his way with a raging snarl.
"I thought I told you to go to-"
Once she saw who it was, Frankie forcefully cut herself off in mid-sentence by biting down so hard upon her lip she nearly punctured the skin. While she desperately struggled to calm herself down, Mac whimpered worriedly,
"W-what's wrong?"
After barely managing to quell her own temper for the sake of the child, Frankie tried to put on a disarming smile as she answered as softly as she could,
"Nothing…n-nothing's wrong, pal, it's just…I already told Bloo three times before to get to-"
"I…I know he can really get to you, but… you hardly ever yell at him like that." the sharp-minded child pointed out meekly, sending her brain scrambling for an excuse.
"I'm…I'm sorry, pal, I'm sorry, it's just…it's just…that…uh…Mr. Herriman just really loaded the chores on today and…and I got a little behind this morning when I went to…go…"
Just barely catching herself, Frankie abruptly ended lamely as she rubbed baggy eyes, "I…I guess I'm just getting a little…cranky."
Unable to detect her lie, Mac gazed bemusedly before asking reasonably, "So why don't you just stop? You've practically been doing chores all day today; I don't think I've seen you take a break since I got home. Why-"
"Because!" she snapped, before hastily softening her tone and explaining, "Because…b-because…I don't want to fall behind as everything piles up, and…and I…see, I…"
Once she noticed the skepticism adorning the child's expression, Frankie swiftly added, "But I'm almost done, really. Just… just give me some time to finish up here, and I'll-"
"Well, let me help, then." Mac instinctively volunteered. "Here, I can-"
"No, no, really!" she sputtered in a woefully pitiful attempt to assuage his soaring concern. "You…you have school tomorrow, and I don't want you to…pal, I'm all right, honest-"
"But you just said you're almost done!" he reminded as he plodded over to her side. "This won't take long, just-"
"Mac, please!" she suddenly snapped, forcing the befuddled child to halt dead in his tracks. Rarely did she pass up the opportunity for help with her daily duties, so to say the least, the boy was quite flummoxed. Meanwhile, catching herself yet again, Frankie hastily softened her tone and explained gently,
"I…I'm fine, really. It'll only be a more minutes, and then I'll head upstairs for the night."
Mac just eyed her bemusedly for a few seconds, forcing her to start fidgeting anxiously with her ponytail under his scrutinizing glare as she tried to plant on some semblance of a reassuring smile. Finally, he asked softly with tone thick with concern,
"…You promise?"
"Promise." She swore with an apologetic grin as she reached over to give him a quick hug. "Just…just make sure that if you see Bloo, tell him I'm sorry about snapping like that, okay?"
"…Okay" the little boy murmured as he finally conceded. After returning the embrace, he turned around began to ascend back upstairs, though not without pausing midway to check for good measure,
"You sure?"
"I'm sure, I'll be up in just a bit!" she answered. With this, Mac finally, though somewhat begrudgindly, went on his way.
As soon as he vanished form sight, she immediately fixated her energy right back upon her scrubbing, despite the fact that every muscle in her body ached in protest and begged for rest after all the vigor she had been pouring into her duties all day.
Trying to ignore her severe discomfort, Frankie doggedly continued onwards, becoming so eerily focused she didn't even notice the large rabbit who entered the room literally just seconds after Mac vanished from sight. As soon as he saw her, Mr. Herriman abruptly stopped, observed her for a few moments before demanding confusedly,
"…What are you doing, Miss Frances?"
Surprised, Frankie shot upright with a start and began stammering, "Mr. H! I…uh…I just-"
"I don't remember asking you to clean up in here at all…or at least at this hour." He mused aloud, before inquiring curiously, "Why in the world are you up so late?"
"I…I just…I just wanted to…" Frankie stuttered, her mind racing for a somewhat believable excuse. When she could find none, however, she rested her hands upon her knees and began to confess ruefully,
"I…I thought that if I really made an effort to keep everything around the house in good shape…a-and…and then others can see-"
"You mean when your assigned caseworker sees how you're taking care of everything?" Mr. Herriman corrected as understanding quickly dawned upon him. The young woman grimaced, then nodded wearily.
"W-well…" she stammered. "I…I thought maybe that'd help show them that I…"
Shaking his head, the imaginary rabbit delicately got down upon one knee and reached for her bucket and sponge.
"Believe me, you'll hardly be better off if you just work yourself ragged like this. Here, hand me-"
"No, wait!" she protested stubbornly and she gripped onto her cleaning supplies tightly. "I'm almost done, just gimme a few more-"
"Not almost done, you are done." The stern figment declared steadfastly as he tried to wrestle the sponge away. "Look at you, you're an absolute nervous wreck! I won't let you add one more extra strain to-"
"For God's sake, will you lay off and give me five extra minutes?" she snapped before her exasperated employer finally ordered her for possibly the very first time in his life,
"Young lady, you are to stop tending to your household duties this very instant!"
As he finally wrenched the sponge from her grip with one deft yank, he promptly deposited tossed aside as he starting scolding sternly,
"Good gracious child, keep yourself together! I understand that your anxiety over this whole matter is getting to you, but there's absolutely no need for you to work your fingers to the bone like this just because you think it'll help your position a little in this ugly fix. Do you understand? Drowning yourself in housework is not the answer to your-"
Almost stressed to breaking point, with a furious burst of deep frustration Frankie suddenly lashed out at the nearby bucket, sending it flying across the foyer with a brief rainstorm of soapy water. Mr. Herriman abruptly stopped in mid-sentence, taken off guard while the young woman gazed straight into his eyes as she snapped furiously,
"I suppose you have any better ideas!"
"…Oh God oh God, where is she? Where? Where is she? Christ…"
The frantic mess of a young woman anxiously murmured over and over to herself as she rushed down the winding hospital corridor, with curly black locks whipping about as she glanced into every room she passed by. With her heart pounding like a drum in the rush of excruciating panic that threatened to consume her completely, she never paused for so much as a minute as she dodged about patients and hospital staff alike.
"Excuse me miss, are you looking for anyone?" a squat nurse finally asked as Kathy shot by.
"No, I'm looking for the nearest train station!" she snapped sarcastically. As soon as she realized though she was being offered some desperately-needed assistance, she quickly backtracked and skidded to a halt in front of the nurse, gasping raggedly,
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I…I just…see, I'm looking for my friend, and…well, I just found out this morning that she was admitted here like, a day ago after she…look, I don't really believe it myself, but her grandmother told me she actually got in a fight with…well, it's basically like an imaginary friend, but they're called extreme…uh, extreme-o…uh…-"
As the nurse gawked dumbly at her like she had just sprouted another head, Kathy groaned before babbling apologetically,
"Okay, okay, forget about that! Her name is Frankie Foster, she's a little taller than me, she has bright red hair, and she's probably currently with an eight-year-old kid, and two imaginary friends right now, a short blue one and one that's really, really, almost ridiculously tall, just like that one over there, see, but…wait, what the…"
Her eyes practically bugged to the size of saucers as she glanced back down the hallway, where an unmistakable beanpole of an imaginary friend was striding back from the vending machines, with a candy bar in hand. In an instant Kathy was sprinting like a madwoman along after him, waving her arms and shouting hoarsely,
"Wilt! Wilt! Hey, Wilt! Wilt!"
"Huh?" the startled crimson figment murmured as he craned his head around. "Ka-"
"Where's Frankie?" she blurted out as she latched onto his winding arm and started tugging impatiently. "Where is she? Where's her room? Is she okay-"
Suddenly weak but nevertheless joyous echoed out into the hallway as she heard an extraordinarily familiar voice answer softly,
"Why don't you ask me yourself?"
Immediately Kathy released her hold on the immensely befuddled Wilt as she followed the sound of her friend to a nearby room.
"Frankie? Frankie, I'm sorry, I just-WHOA!"
The second she stepped into the room and laid eyes upon its redheaded occupant, the color drained from her features and she let loose with a horrified yelp; Frankie looked like she had not only been to hell and back, but repeated the process several times over. Whatever part of her body lay exposed appeared to be covered in bruises or bandages, except her left arm, which was incased inside a heavy cast and sling.
Without wasting a second, Kathy bolted over to the bedside, jabbering frantically,
"Frankie! Oh my God, are you-"
Much to her total surprise, the instant she was close enough, Frankie sat up and threw her sole functioning arm around her friend in a warm hug, before whispering unexpectedly calmly,
"Glad you could show up so soon."
Utterly flummoxed beyond belief, Kathy abruptly pulled away from the unexpected embrace as she stared straight into Frankie's eyes for the very first time.
Despite the gruesome array of injuries that ranged from the broken arm to a black eye that was nearly swollen shut, Frankie was somehow wearing the fattest grin Kathy had ever seen in her entire life. Not a weak one put on merely to reassure her frantic friend, but a genuine smile that spread across the redhead's face from ear to ear as she nearly glowed with unmistakable joy.
"Fra-" Kathy nearly yelled in excruciating confusion before Frankie hastily lifted a finger to a mouth and motioned her to quiet down.
"Shhh! Not so loud."
While Frankie checked on the dozing eight-year-old boy curled up against her side and the slumbering azure blob on her lap, Kathy wordlessly bit her lip and stared dumbstruck at the peculiar scene for a few seconds, unable to make heads nor tails of it all. Never before had she seen her friend in such a hellish condition, yet almost paradoxically, never could she recall seeing her so gleeful either.
"…F-Frankie?" she croaked softly. "Are…are y-you…"
Frankie just chortled and answered tranquilly, "I'm fine, I'm fine…it's okay."
"Huh? But…b-but…" Kathy stammered, unable to believe her eyes and ears. "B-but…. oh my God, just look at you! Madame Foster was right, Mac actually tried to…and you actually fought a …I mean…I thought she was joking when…"
Overwhelmed by it all, the mortified woman set herself upon the bed and began to babble guiltily, "Oh my God…oh my God….Frankie, I'm so sorry, if I knew the little guy was right here in town the whole time, I...I'm sorry, if only I tried harder to figure out where her was, I could've-"
"Kathy, it's all right, you did what you could." Frankie just replied serenely with a sincerely grateful nod. "Don't worry, so I got a little banged up-"
"Little?" Kathy repeated incredulously, while her friend just continued on calmly,
"Don't worry, we're all alright…everything's going to be fine."
"But…but I…a-are you sure?" Kathy sputtered, unsure of what else to think or say at that point in her surprise as she rested a hand on Frankie's shoulder. Still grinning like an idiot and looking as genuinely ecstatic as could possibly be, Frankie elicited a short, contented sigh as she started gently stroking the head of the slumbering little boy by her side, while confessing happily,
"Trust me…I couldn't be better…"
Kathy suddenly snapped back to reality once she realized that she had been continuously feeding her goldfish the entire time she had harking back to the past. Now, close to half a bottle of fish flakes floated about inside the tank. Meanwhile, her pet simply stared dumbly at the abundance of food, looking quite unsure of what to make of the magnificent bounty he had suddenly been blessed with.
"Whoa, Flounder! Wait!" she yelped, as if he could understand her warning and restrain himself from attempting to eat every morsel until he burst. Wasting not a single moment, Kathy bolted into her apartment's tiny kitchen.
"Where did that come from?" she muttered bewilderedly to herself as she searched her cabinets for a drinking glass.
Almost immediately she mentally kicked herself for asking such a stupid question; where else would such a flashback have come from? To say that it had come from completely out of the blue for no reason whatsoever would've been absolutely stupid; she hadn't been able to keep her mind off of that morning's vicious fight or her best friend all day, thus the fact that particular memory suddenly surfaced shouldn't have been that big of a surprise.
What did come as a shock however was the fact that for the first time in hours, she had snapped out of the deep rage that she had been stewing deeply in. Still stinging sorely from that morning's argument, for most of the day she had wanted nothing less than to try and content herself with the belief that her friend's comments had been completely unjustified, and that Frankie alone had completely overreacted; the system she devoted her life to would work, and justice would prevail.
Now, much to her dismay, because of that accursed memory Kathy found herself actually a little torn on the issue for the first time that day. If that encounter in the hospital taught her anything, it was the screaming obvious that Frankie cared dearly for her adopted "little brother" like nothing else, and was willing to do all it took and more if it meant keeping him safe. So considering Frankie's current unfortunate dilemma, could she really accuse her horrendously stressed friend of over-exaggerating her plight?
After finally finding a suitable drinking glass, she jogged back into the living room and scooped her fish out, just as he started to try and recklessly engorge himself. As she set "Flounder" next to his tank, her eyes wandered onto the small frame set atop the same table, where inside lay a photo of two young women, one with jet-black curls and the other with bright crimson locks, each grinning from ear to ear as they rested their arms over the other's shoulders.
As she stared at the two friends in the photograph, Kathy sighed heavily as doubt started to crop up within her. Frankie did love Mac greatly, and considering how much she cared for the boy who she wasn't even related to, it practically made the redhead a model of compassion. Unfortunately, no one was perfect, and the fiery-tempered redhead was no exception to the rule whatsoever, and when this Achilles Heel was combined with the fact she was being threatened to lose the child so close to her, well…
Kathy stared to gnaw upon her lower lip as she mulled furiously. Part of her still wanted to believe that the system she worked for, while not perfect, would still work in Frankie's favor. After all, that was their sole duty, wasn't it? To make sure children were in safe, loving homes? It was what she had joined up for, at least. There was no point in taking a certain nine-year-old boy from a guardian who always made sure he was well cared for.
But then again, not a lot of people knew Frankie like her. She had to step back and be frank; what would any other social worker think of a redhead who was so mistrustful and so defensive about her family, she couldn't help but grow vicious as soon as she felt it was threatened? Frankie's eruption that morning had been particularly bad even for her; Kathy had seen her lose her temper before, but as she thought of it, those instances seemed to pale in comparison to the explosion she had witnessed earlier that day.
At this point, as difficult as it was to admit it, a pang of guilt had begun to jab her sharply. Maybe Frankie was right; all by herself, there was no chance for a happy ending. Perhaps she really did need help. And why shouldn't her own friend help her? After all, as back as she could remember, Frankie had always been there to bail her out when she-
Just before Kathy started to reconsider her grudge, and reclaim herself from her anger, suddenly, she recalled Frankie's words from earlier that day;
"…You people are all alike…"
"You people"…as in dim-witted government-sanctioned child snatchers who had no clue what they were doing, like her…everything she had worked for and represented, reduced to such scorn…by her "best friend," of all people.
As she remembered the dead-serious expression that had been stamped upon the redhead's expression as she angrily uttered that fateful phrase with a snarl, what sympathy Kathy had started to feel was instantly crushed under an overwhelming sense of betrayal. To think, that's all her supposed best friend really saw her and "her kind" as, regardless of all she had worked for and what she did every day to for all those families she willingly toiled for.
The bitter anger effortlessly seized full control of her in a matter of moments, and in an instant she was back atop her high horse. As a dark scowl took root on her features while the fury possessed her, she wordlessly reached over grabbed the frame, and roughly placed it facedown, obscuring the photo from sight.
As she started the laborious process of filtering the excess fish food out the tank, the fuming twenty-three-year-old grumbled under her breath.
"She doesn't have any idea what she's talking about…she'll be just fine…"