Frank Longbottom is going to kill the doctor. (perfectlyfrank) wrote in an_ill_wind, @ 2009-09-02 03:19:00 |
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Helplessness was not a feeling that Frank was used to but it was one of the only things that he had been able to feel over the course of the last few days. He was helpless and angry and he had no outlet for either emotion so he suppressed them and tried to be the solid rock that the rest of them needed him to be. He was Frank Longbottom. He could overcome anything, or at least that's what he wanted people to believe. Sleep had eluded him for the most part while Al was gone. He'd grabbed an hour or so in odd parts of the day but he was exhausted. He had his head down at the kitchen table, ignoring pleas from his wife that he should get himself to a proper bed. His journal was set to alert him of any wards and he had finally managed to drift into a dreamless sleep when a charm echoed through the kitchen. He lifted his head from the table and flipped the book open. The words stared at him like a punch to the gut. He couldn't quite decide whether he should cheer or vomit. It didn't matter. They had to hurry. Frank scribbled a ward to Alice, not bothering to waste time trying to find her, and then he Apparated to Pepper's. They would show up together and they would bring Al home. Everything would be fine. Pepper had been passed out from the night before when his journal chimed at him. He popped up wildly, eyes red with bags heavy under his eyes, thick curly hair knotted in the front. He looked exactly as he felt--like a useless drunk who'd collapsed on the kitchen table in a fear and grief induced stupor at about three in the morning. Losing Al--if that happened...If they didn't get him back, then Pepper would sign up for a membership with the "Lost Our Shite" club and he and Dorcas could share the presidency. After reading his journal, Pepper got up and did two things: 1) he ran the cold water in the sink and stuck his head underneath, and 2) he gargled an obscene amount of mouthwash. He still stunk of stale liquor and looked a dishevelled mess, but all in all, that wasn't new. When Frank appeared in his sitting room, Pepper was lighting up a smoke. Frank was secretly relieved that Pepper looked just as bad as he did. In some odd way he felt it justified his odd sleeping habits and the fact that he was obsessing over every detail that they didn't have. None of it mattered now. He was terrified that they would arrive at Bellatrix's location and it would be too late. He had played the worst case scenario game in his head more times than he would care to admit and right now he felt like he was stuck inside something that he had dreamt up. "If Bellatrix is still there waiting you are going to have to grab Al and get him out of there. Alice will have things for you at the house. I'll make sure that she doesn't try to follow you." Pepper nodded, inhaling deeply. He was no shakes dueling, and he couldn't hold a candle to Frank and Al anyway. He'd always been the one to patch people up. He would take Al, and whatever had happened, whatever state he was in, Pepper would put him back together again. He had worried and panicked so much over the past few days, all Pepper had left in him was a numb sort of determination. "We're getting him back," he said with a sort of finality meant more for himself than to reassure Frank in any capacity It was Frank's turn to nod and he did so, slowly but with as much confidence as he could muster. Neither of them had slept more than ten hours together over the course of these hell days and they should have been passed out from exhaustion. They shouldn't even be standing there, preparing to head out on a potentially suicidal mission. Frank had already calculated the possibility that this was a trap but they had to risk it. They had no other choice. One more moment to compose himself and then he turned his gaze from the floor to Pepper. "Let's go." Pepper pinched his fag between his fingers and disapparated, following the journal's directions. When he stopped, he was standing in the bastard child of a wheat field and a swamp, and he put his cigarette back in his mouth. "Well what the fuck," he said, looking around and not seeing anything as he waited that split second for Frank to appear beside him. It already boded badly, adding to the anxiety of the situation itself. Pepper felt a shiver. Where in fuck could Al be? Al was several yards off, dumped unceremoniously in the high grass. He was only half-conscious, his heart beat slow and uneven in his ears. He was so cold. He wanted to move, to curl up and capture his own body heat, but moving seemed impossible. It seemed far out of his reach. And so he laid there, cheek pressed against the cold dirt and grass. A low whimper escaped his throat here and there, but it was entirely involuntary, simply air passing his vocal chords, and he tried to stop, because that hurt. His throat was raw from screaming, screaming for his life and begging for mercy, and sometimes death, for them to simply get it over with, that it would be better than the constant, blinding torture. But even those details felt fuzzy, far off. He found it increasingly difficult to be aware of anything, to focus and notice details and keep himself on track for more than a few seconds. It was like trying to keep water in cupped hands. No matter how hard you pressed your fingers together, it always escaped, draining away. The sound of apparition echoed across the clearing as Frank appeared alongside Pepper. It was darker than he would have liked, but it was the middle of the night and it would soon stretch into early morning, so it made sense. It was still uncomfortable, to say the least. He couldn't see Bellatrix and that eased his stress, but he couldn't see Al either. He then began to imagine what he would do, had she lied to him. He had put faith in her unwillingly and he did not want to come here only to find that he had been duped. Frank had his wand at the ready and he whispered an incantation that would allow them to detect any small movements or sounds and he put his finger up to his lips to tell Pepper to keep quiet. Moments passed and there was nothing but then there was a whimper, magnified by the charm and he started running towards it, motioning for Pepper to follow on. At that point Pepper had finished his cigarette, watching Frank work with interest. He'd always been sort of baffled by the things that Frank and Al could do. He was sure it came around the other way when they saw him elbows deep in someone's insides, but still. Practical magic in dueling was and never would be Pepper's strong suit. He could think enough to ask the right people to take care of it. And one night a month he could savagely maul without conscious thought. Not that that, in his mind, really counted for much. He ran after Frank without hesitation, wondering what they were booking it for. Al alive? Al dead and boobytrapper? Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, the magical equivalents of serial axe murderers? Al was dimly aware of footstep against the ground, could hear them. He clung to that for a moment, long enough to feel a streak of fear worm into his stomach and nearly explode to panic. After all, in the last several days, footstep had meant nothing but pain and torture and knives and blood. He curled up with a hiss of pain, hoping maybe they wouldn't find him. It was dark. It was dark and he was so cold. Maybe they wouldn't see and they wouldn't hurt him again. They didn't have to run too far before Frank tripped and stumbled. With a quick Lumos there was light spilling out around them and Frank looked down to see Al's leg protruding from a patch of tall grass. "Son of a bitch," he growled, and he waded into the sea of plants and knelt down next to him. He looked worse than Frank could have even imagined and he had to force himself not to cry, scream, or vomit. He'd seen worse things than this and he had a strong stomach but this was his best friend and it made him sick to think that anyone could snatch someone out of thin air and beat them within a centimeter of their lives, and for what? "Al." He reached out and brushed his hand over his friend's forehead gingerly. "Al, it's Frank and Pepper. We've got you. You're safe and you're going to be fine, all right? You don't have to talk. We're going to get you out of here." Pepper knelt down, lighting the tip of his own wand to get a better look at Al, to know what they were dealing with, whether or not he'd have to get a hold of Dig or Marlene, or Emmeline for any combination of potions. The sight was repulsive. Pepper's mouth gaped and his brain stopped all Healer-y reasoning so he could just stare, allowing the weight of the situation to sink painfully in. This was Al for fuck's sake. He shook his head. How in Christ were they going to apparate him out without destroying what little was left? "We need to... only one of us can take him. We'll go to yours. I'm going to need. I don't even fucking know. Just look at that... discolouration. And the bruising. It could be caused by eight-hundred different things. He has organ damage. Probably internal bleeding, but that'll be a scavenger hunt..." Pepper ran a hand through his hair, stopping short of pulling all the way through because of the abundance of knots. "Dig. For certain. And blood replenishers by the wheelbarrow load." Al flinched away from the touch, his heartbeat coming faster, more erratic as fear slowly evolved to panic. "No, please," came a tight, strangled cry as he struggled to move away, to escape hands that were surely only seconds away from hurting. More conscious, certainly, but he had little strength left in his body and what moving he did do came with searing, unforgivable pain, and so he stopped that too, instead just wrapping his arms around his face, in a juvenile attempt at self-defence. "Leave me alone I don't know anything I'm sorry, I'll be good just stop I don't want it to hurt any more." It came in a broken rush, words coming stuttered and rapid, with little thought between phrases. It was the only thing he could cling to, to beg for them to leave him alone. Frank felt an overwhelming urge to run off in search of Bellatrix but he stayed by Al's side, despite the protests. It was clear that Al was broken and Frank wasn't sure what they could do to fix him. He listened to Pepper's plans and he nodded. His house was the best possible option at the moment. They had more than enough rooms and the wards were impenetrable. "I can take him. When we get home I will go straight to the extra bedroom and you can follow behind me with the things that Alice has for you. Then I'll leave you to get yourself set up and I'll ward everyone that can help us." His words were so rushed that he felt out of breath when he finished talking. Pepper nodded, his mindset having returned to that of a healer as attempted to, for the time being, bury the fact that this was Al, Al he'd known since they were eleven, Al of their ridiculous little trio that couldn't be a trio with just himself and Frank left. He was making mental notes. Strip first. Gauge the bruising. Find the source of the internal bleeding. No hemorrhaging. Blood replenishers. A heavy sedative. Bones, joints, organs. Disproportion and things out of place. He pointed his wand at Al and whispered before tucking the instrument into his back pocket. He then leaned over his best friend, though he knew the other man would not recognise the help. "We're taking you somewhere safe, buddy." And then he reached his arms carefully underneath his friend's body, being aided by the charm that had made him lighter and easier to carry. He turned to Pepper with a frown. "I'll go first. Make sure I don't leave anything behind." And then he concentrated on being home and he was gone with a crack that was mirrored by Pepper just moments later. |