Invincible - Ch. 7
Title: Invincible
Character(s) or Pairing(s): FACES featuring FrUK In this chapter: Belgium, Lithuania, Prussia, Russia
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU, Slash, Action/Adventure, Implied Past Mpreg, Character Death
Summary: After a series of lawsuits forces him and the rest of the Supers into retirement, Arthur Kirkland finds himself trapped living a mundane suburban life. When adventure calls he's quick to respond, but how will it affect the rest of his family?
Prologue|Chapter 1|Chapter 2|Chapter 3|Chapter 4|Chapter 5|Chapter 6
Chapter 7 Missile Lock
Francis was worried and Gilbert was too -- a fact that he had been able to decipher despite his friend's seemingly indifferent demeanor -- because this whole situation seemed wrong. They were approaching the island's air space, were in clear range of its tower, yet no one was responding to their frequent attempts to make contact.
"Give it another shot," Gilbert instructed as he motioned towards the head set that Francis had recently pulled off in frustration. "Maybe we weren't close enough before."
"The control panel clearly says that we are in range," he sighed even while placing the heavy headphones back on to his head. He grimaced as the thick straps and foam padding mussed and tangled his hair and the mouth piece continued to resist his efforts to adjust its length. "And you should be the one doing this. You are the pilot after all."
Gilbert gave an apathetic shrug and Francis was already rolling his eyes even before his friend could offer his excuse. "I never did pay attention to all that boring stuff. I just wanna fly."
"You cannot keep relying on your co-pilots," Francis reminded him. "After all, how long has it been since Ludwig was last able to fly with you?"
Gilbert said nothing as his jaw clenched and his hands tightened their grip on the controls and for a moment Francis felt awful for reminding Gilbert of the gap that had grown between him and his brother. A heavy silence settled over the cockpit and Francis decided to take the opportunity to once again attempt to radio the control tower. Again he repeated the altitude, direction, and level at which the jet was flying and requested permission to land, only to be met with more silence.
"Okay, this is probably not nearly as bad as you think it is," Gilbert piped in hopefully. "It's a small island. Maybe nobody's at the tower."
"Ah, oui, I am sure that they are all out getting coffee," Francis returned cynically. There was a strange, fidgety feeling tickling the pit of his stomach, the same sort of feeling he usually got when danger was dead ahead of him, and he did not like it one bit.
"Oh, just relax. I can land us safely without any help from the tower."
"If you say so," Francis sighed as he fought against the urge to jump from his seat and start pacing the length of the plane. Instead he simply groaned and rested his head in his hand.
What on earth had Arthur gotten himself into? he thought, the question ringing louder than any other thought churning through his mind, because the closer they got to this little speck of land, the more Francis felt absolutely certain that Arthur was not there of his own free will.
"So I was on the phone with my stupid brother," he heard Gilbert say and Francis realized only then that his friend must have been speaking for some time now. "And get this; he actually calls me up to tell me that Feli has already started turning one of their guest rooms into a nursery. Apparently they're already buying clothes and toys and shit for some kid that they don't even have yet! Can you believe them? Can you believe him? Calling me up just to tell me all this crap. Like I care!"
"Ludwig just wants to talk to you," Francis told him wearily as he recalled the panicked look he had seen on Ludwig's face the other day whenever the word "baby" had been brought up. "He wants to reach out to you, because he is scared."
"Hey, my brother doesn't get scared," Gilbert huffed defensively. "Besides, why the hell would he think that I know anything about any of this crap?"
"Well clearly he is aware that you are just as clueless as he is, but he also knows that you are his big brother. He is used to turning to you when things get a bit... overwhelming."
Once again Gilbert fell silent as a far off gleam settled into his red eyes. Francis knew right away that he was both processing and suppressing everything that had just been said between them and Francis wished that he would stop being so pig headed, even for just a moment. He understood where Gilbert's fears were coming from, but that didn't stop Francis from worrying over the whole situation. The last thing he wanted was for Gilbert and Ludwig's relationship to turn cold and distant all because one party could not accept that the other's life was moving in another direction.
It is like my parents all over again, Francis thought only to realize then that he may be projecting his own bad experiences onto this situation.
"Heh, why am I taking relationship advice from you of all people," Gilbert snorted as a teasing smile began pulling at his lips. "Oh right, because you're such an 'expert' on human behavior. Geez, Francis, just because you banged my brother doesn't mean you know him."
"I told you to not to mention that," Francis chided dully. He had grown quite weary of Gilbert's tendency to bring up his steamy past whenever he disapproved of something Francis said. "It was a onetime thing and... and Arthur has not gotten over it."
"He should be used to it by now. I mean, you did bang just about every Super who gave you a sideways glance, especially the ones with super strength." Gilbert tittered and Francis only shook his head as a little smile began tugging at the corners of his own lips. His old tomcat ways really wasn't something that he should be thinking about at the moment. "And I still can't believe you settled for Artie. Artie! Of all people..."
"What can I say? I loved him."
"Yeah, right," Gilbert groaned, rolling his eyes in a far too exaggerated manner. "Admit it, it was cause he knocked you up, wasn't it?"
"Gilbert," Francis said, his voice somewhere between a warning and a sigh, because they had had this conversation far too many times.
"Come on Francis, it's just the two of us. Tell me the truth."
"The truth is that I was always going to marry him."
"Bull!" Gilbert laughed. "You are never gonna get me to believe that you were always planning to go through with that wedding, especially given how many times you used to tell me and Toni how you didn't want to ever get hitched or have kids."
"And I did both. Willingly."
"Yeah, and look where it's gotten you," Gilbert said only to clear his throat seconds later as if to acknowledge that he had said one word too many.
Francis felt his throat tighten as he wrapped his arms around himself and squeezed. These last few days had been hard, because he honestly didn't know what was going to happen between him and Arthur. The words "divorce" and "separation" had popped into his mind more than a few times, because Arthur had lied, lied, and put himself and all of them in grave danger because of childish impulses. Francis wondered, not for the first time, if he had it in him to forgive such a thing.
"I... I need to..." he began as he pushed himself out of the co-pilot chair and towards the bathroom situated just outside the cockpit.
"Francis," Gilbert said quickly as he reached out a hand in order to stop his friend's retreating form. Francis turned towards him and found only sincerity in Gilbert's red eyes. "Listen, Francis, I want you to know that... well, whatever happens..."
"I know."
"You and the kids can always come crash at my place if you need to."
"No Gilbert," Francis said, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. "Your apartment is too small and smells of stale wurst and spilled beer."
They both gave a soft chuckle as Francis grabbed his duffle bag and slipped into the bathroom.
--
Toris knew good and well that he should not be in awe, but he had to admit that he was more than a bit impressed by Captain Invincible. The man had not only dismantled an Omnidroid in record time, he had also gone up against Red Sickle and lived. True, Invincible had his enhanced strength and agility, but with all of his gadgets and knowledge, Red Sickle should have been unstoppable.
A fleeting, fluttery sort of feeling welled up in the pit of his stomach at that thought. It was certainly a blotch in his employer's nearly impeccable record, but Toris knew it did not matter. They were so close to completing the final phase of their plans, that there was nothing that could stand in Red Sickle's way.
Toris gazed up at Invincible's body, suspended motionless in mid air thanks to a series of cuff and electros that held enough power to render even a seasoned Super like Invincible ineffective. In the darkened room a number of control panels and monitors hummed and beeped, providing the only source of light to be found and causing the air to feel quite stuffy and warm. These machines were new, state of the art and never tested, and Toris had a feeling that Red Sickle was eager to see how it would perform against his former idol.
From the far end of the chamber, a door slid open with a steady hiss, and Red Sickle's towering form all but floated towards them. Toris took a slight step back as his employer approached Captain Invincible's prone form and suddenly Toris felt very much like an ant in the presence of titans.
"Impressive as always, Captain Invincible," Sickle smiled as a note of merriment colored his words. "Not many could survive such a fall or withstand such powerful blast, but you did! You even managed to evade my scanners. No wonder Ivan used to worship you as a child. But on other hand, you did make big mistake when you sent out emergency signal. Too bad."
Invincible raised his head then, his eyes meeting Sickle's smirking face with only weariness and confusion. Toris wondered if he was still feeling woozy, because their security system certainly had done a number on him and the guards in the facility could be quite vicious when they were in the mood. "What signal?" he asked.
Red Sickle turned towards one of the guards who had been sitting by a control panel, observing the conversation with dutiful stillness. Just like all the other suited men in this building he was silent and faceless and Toris hated him. Sickle waved his hand casually, his smile never once faltering, and Toris watched as the guard twisted a dial and allowed a volt of electricity to course its way through Invincible's body. He watched as Invincible stiffened his body tensing and his eyes screwing shut as a heavy groan escaped through his clenched teeth. Toris felt his stomach coil at the sight, because while it had only lasted a moment, the image of the powerful man twisting in pain seemed to jolt its way into his heart along with the shock waves.
"You are very funny, Captain Invincible," Red Sickle chuckled once the electrocution had ended. "But we both know that homing beckon emitted from you last night. And now, this morning, mysterious plane is approaching island and requesting permission to land."
"I didn't contact anyone you demented twit!" Invincible all but seethed and even if it lasted only for a fleeting second, Toris still caught the way Sickle's eyes widened as if struck.
Sickle walked over to the control panel himself then, brushing the guard's hand away, in order to twist the dial until the knob seemed ready to snap off. Invincible howls of pain were like finger nails digging into his ears and the very light from the electric currents were enough to turn the dim room an eerie white. His suspended frame rocked and convulsed back and forth, back and forth, for what seemed like an eternity as Invincible tried desperately to withstand the pain.
For a moment, Toris felt certain that he would be sick, because even after Sickle had stopped, the smell of smoke and cooked flesh still hung in the air. Yet it was the too gentle gloved hand caressing his side that stopped him, not from its comfort, but from the reminder of where he was and what he was doing.
"Play message," Sickle instructed and it took Toris a moment to realize that he had been addressing him.
He gave a weak nod as he walked over towards one of the massive machines and pressed a button that allowed that morning's tape to play. The sound of a heavily accent man's voice drifted into the room and Toris watched as Invincible's head, despite the immense pain no doubt coursing through him, snapped up at the sound.
Sickle must have caught the gesture as well, because his smile grew just a little bit wider, just a bit colder, at the sight. "So this is comrade, da?" he asked merrily. "Well, we must send them reply."
--
As foolish as it was, Francis had to admit that he felt a bit better. Somehow, the mere act of slipping into the tight red and blue body suit was enough to steady his nerves and give him a (likely false) sense of control over the situation. Not that he liked the design any more than he had previously. He glanced into the small mirror mounted on the wall in front of him and sneered at the large white "I" adorning his chest.
"I am not Mrs. Invincible," he muttered to his reflection as if that would be enough to change the detested emblem.
With a heavy sigh, he stepped out of the bathroom. He turned towards the cockpit and saw Gilbert flying steady and level among a field of clear blue sky. Not for the first time he prayed that he was overreacting and that the situation was not nearly as dire as he feared.
"Whoa! Where'd you get the flashy new suit?"
Francis blinked, his mind returning to the present at the sound of his friend's voice, because it was only then that he realized that Gilbert had been staring at him. A smile formed on his lips as he ran a hand over the deep red fabric that clung to every inch of his skin. "From Feliciano," he told him. "He gave it to me for free. Just like old times!"
"What? You mean Ludwig gave you a suit, but didn't bother making one for his own brother?" Gilbert gave an indignant huff before turning back towards the front of the plane. Somehow, Francis knew that he was still pouting. "Unbelievable!"
"Gilbert," he began carefully as he tossed his duffle bag into one of the empty seats that filled out the body of the plane.
He would have said more, but the soft "ow!" that greeted his ears was enough to give him pause. Francis turned towards the seat where he had deposited his bag and saw that the brown duffle was currently hovering a few inches above the chair's red fabric.
"Mathieu!"
With a sheepish murmur of "Maple," the air shifted and shimmered until Mathieu appeared in front of him, wearing his own suit at that. "It's not my fault Papa!" Mathieu cried out instantly. "This was Alfred's idea."
"Liar!" Francis twisted around just as Alfred's blond head appeared behind a chair just a few rows back. He barely had time to process the sight of him in his red and blue Super suit before the boy ran next to him in order to glare over at Mathieu. "You're the one who said 'Papa's acting really weird and Dad's probably in big trouble.'"
"Alfred ran away and I knew he was gonna follow you to the airport," Mathieu went on, ignoring his twin even as Alfred hollered at the top of his lungs in order to drown out Mathieu's words. "I knew that it was a bad idea so I came with him to try to bring him back!"
"You're the one who saw Pops and Uncle Gil getting onto the jet," Alfred countered, speaking directly to Mathieu. "You said 'I wonder what they're up to' which was totally code for 'let's sneak on board the plane!'"
"Francis, what's going on back there?" Gilbert called out from the cockpit, his own words lapping over the boys and their frantic explanations. "Are the wonder twins on board? I signed up for a rescue mission not a freakin' family vacation! What do I look like, a babysitter?"
"Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute!" Francis cried out and was pleased when all three voices came to a sudden end. "You mean to tell me that you boys were here the entire time?" Francis began slowly, focusing his attention only on the children. "Were you two listening to our conversation?"
Mathieu flushed, Alfred looked away, and both boys began squirming under his gaze. "We... we weren't trying to listen," Mathieu said sheepishly.
"Especially not to that part where you and Uncle Gil were talking about all the people you had sex with," Alfred put in helpfully. "Or... or when he said you didn't want to have kids."
"He was joking, right Papa? You wanted us right?"
"And what did Uncle Gil mean when he said you married Dad 'cause he knocked you up? You guys always said you were married for a year before you had us."
"Oh my..." The words withered away and died in his throat, because the idea that his babies had suddenly been let in on some of his darkest secrets was enough to make his insides grow cold. "Gilbert!"
"Hey! I didn't know they were on board," Gilbert said defensively and on any other occasion, Francis may have let it go, but at the moment he wanted to ring Gilbert's neck.
Of course, that thought was quickly pushed aside when a more pressing issue came to mind. "What about Angelique?" Francis gasped as he felt his heart nearly come to a halt at the very notion. "Did you two leave the baby alone?"
"No way, Pops! We're not stupid," Alfred cried defensively.
"We called a babysitter before we left," Mathieu put in. "And then we texted Uncle Antonio and said you'd be taking us with you."
"So you left your baby sister in the hands of a stranger, lied to a close family friend, and ran away from home? Mon Dieu! What have you two become?"
"You?" Gilbert supplied helpfully.
"Be quiet!" Francis ordered sternly, because he was not in the mood for jokes. What had happened to his family? Francis had always known that his boys (well, Alfred at least) could be quite mischievous at times, but never would he have expected something like this. "You two will be in big trouble when we get home," he huffed as he marched towards the phone mounted to a wall near the cockpit. "And do not think that you can pout your way out of this! Your school mates will be going off to college by the time you will be allowed to leave your room again."
A set of sheepish looks had already settled onto the twins' faces, but Francis told himself quite sternly that he would not let either of them off easily, no matter how cute they looked. He quickly dialed a few numbers, pounding on the digits with more force than necessary, before pressing the phone against his ear.
"Hey munchkins, why don't you guys come up here and watch your Uncle Gil fly?" Gilbert suggested playfully and Francis wasn't at all surprised to see the boys scampering from their seats and into the cockpit.
He distantly listened to Gilbert complaining at the sight of the children's new suits until the steady chimes on the phone were replaced by a teenage girl's friendly voice. "Kirkland-Bonnefoy residence. Emma speaking."
"Hello Emma," Francis greeted. It was a struggle to push away the annoyance clawing at his words in order to speak in his usual charming tone, but he managed it. The fact that this girl, Emma, had referred to the family as the "Kirkland-Bonnefoys" certainly helped to improve his spirits, because to Francis there was no greater annoyance than when someone skipped over his last name and acknowledged them collectively as "the Kirklands." (The only thing that could irritate him more was to see a piece of junk mail addressed to "Mrs. Francis Kirkland.") "This is Francis Bonnefoy."
"Oh, Mr. Bonnefoy! How good to hear from you," she said merrily. "I see the boys got in contact with you."
"Yes, about that. You see, the boys hired you without my knowledge and... Well, Angelique is not used to being around strangers, so I would feel much better calling a family friend to look after her."
"You don't have to worry about that, Mr. Bonnefoy," Emma said breezily. "I'm great with kids! I've had tons of experience babysitting. I can cook, clean, do laundry, and I could probably change a diaper with my eyes closed! Besides, Angelique seems to like me just fine. I made her some waffles and she ate them all up. She got a bit sticky, but I'll clean up her up in just a sec, which I guess won't be a big deal since your boys told me she loves bath time."
"Yes, well..." Francis began, but soon found his words coming to a fumbling halt. He didn't know what else to say, aside from the fact that he rarely ever let Angelique out of his sight and only felt comfortable doing so when he knew that she was around someone he could trust. Angelique may not have been a Super like the twins, but that didn't stop the little voice in the back of his mind from whispering to him that he needed to give Antonio a call and have him trade places with this girl. "Emma, I am sure that you are a fine babysitter, but I am not comfortable with this," he said honestly. "I will pay you for your time when I get back, but I would rather have a friend take over."
"There's no need, Mr. Bonnefoy," she assured him. "I swear there's nothing this baby can throw at me that I can't handle."
His mouth opened in an effort to make one final argument, but the shrill, steady beep that cut through the calm within the plane caused him to swallow the words in his throat.
"What the hell?" Gilbert muttered thoughtfully as Francis quickly placed the phone back on its cradle.
"Hey Uncle Gil, what does 'missile lock' mean?" Alfred asked as he leaned over Gilbert's shoulder in order to get a better look at the words flashing against the control panel.
"It means you munchkins had better strap yourselves in."
"What?" Mathieu whispered, a hint of panic coloring his words as his wide eyes turned towards Francis. "Papa?"
"Do as you are told," Francis ordered as he shoved the two towards the tail end of the plane and strapped himself in the co-pilot seat. He felt the jet's engine's kick into high gear as soon as his fingers touched the headset and the force of the sudden acceleration was almost enough to make him lose his grip. He heard the children yelp in shock and allowed himself to take a moment to glance back at them to see that they had indeed strapped themselves into their seats.
The beep was still echoing through the cabin and Francis could now see the clear outline of two missiles closing in on their tail on the control panel's display. Despite their increased speed, the missiles were keeping pace with them, and Francis's stomach was filling with dread even as he switched the radio back on.
"Aren't there any weapons on this thing?" Gilbert asked as his eyes roamed frantically across the sea of switches and buttons spread out in front of him.
"Why would I bring an armed plane on a rescue mission?" Francis snapped.
"Why wouldn't you bring an armed plane on a rescue mission?" he countered just as he sent the plane into a sharp nose dive.
Seeing the field of clear blue ocean rushing up towards them was enough to pull Francis's mind out of the panicked cloud it had drifted into and he quickly began signaling the tower, requesting that they disengage. Gilbert pulled the plane skyward once more, but the maneuver hadn't been enough to halt the twin rockets in their pursuit of them. Francis could feel his heart churning in his ears, because the control tower was still refusing to acknowledge his calls and even when he informed them that there were children aboard their plane, the missiles stayed on course.
"I don't think that's gonna work, Franny," Gilbert managed to say from between gritted teeth. It had been quite some time since he had been forced to pilot a plane under these conditions and Francis could see that Gilbert was running out of tricks and maneuvers in order to get them out of danger. "You should probably start thinking of something else."
"Mathieu!" Francis began as he twisted around in his seat in order to get a better look at his children. From his angle, he couldn't see Alfred, but Mathieu was in his line of sight and was currently clutching his duffle bag tight against his chest. "Mathieu, you need to put a force field around the plane!"
"Whuh what?" Mathieu stammered as he blinked owlishly at Francis. He could see the frightened tears glistening in the boy's eyes and a small part of Francis felt absolutely horrible for putting the child in such a position. "I've never done one that big before!"
"You have to try," Francis urged just as Gilbert sent the plane into a tail spin, causing them to be jerked roughly to the right of the cabin. "You have to do it!"
He did try, but it was impossible for someone so inexperienced to use their powers properly under so much pressure and Mathieu's fingers fumbled and jerked about dumbly as he managed to only create tiny little bubbles of energy that popped in midair before they could expand more than a foot.
"Parachutes," he heard Gilbert ground out. "Does this thing have any parachutes?"
Francis didn't know, but he doubted that he'd be able to find them, grab enough for all four of them, put them on, and jump out of the plane before they were blown to bits.
It was only then that Francis recalled Ludwig and Feliciano's little demonstration from just the other day. His suit would be able to withstand a direct blow from two missiles. But what about the children? But what about Gilbert?
"Papa!" Alfred cried out and Francis didn't have to look at the display screen to see that their time had run out.
--
"We have a confirmed hit," one of the men said in a voice that was far too flat and neutral for Toris's liking. "Target destroyed."
His head felt heavy and his legs were wobbling so badly that he had to rest most of his weight against one of the large terminals just to keep from collapsing. Children. There had been children aboard that plane. The very thought alone was enough to make his stomach churn. It was hard enough having to sleep at night knowing what they had done -- what he had helped to do -- to so many men and women, but children...
Toris closed his eyes against the thought and found himself remembering the way Captain Invincible had struggled against his binds as the voice, a pilot or copilot, had continued to plea for them to call off their attack. Toris had read Invincible's file, he knew that he had a family, was married with three children and he wondered if they had been the ones on that plane.
He turned towards Invincible then and saw that his body had gone completely slack. Even in the dim light of the room, Toris could still see that his skin had gone horribly pale and the once great Super had never looked more frail and weak in his eyes. It was almost as if all the life had been sucked out of him and Toris wanted to go somewhere dark and quiet so he could weep for him.
"Oh, too bad," Red Sickle tutted as his heavy gloved hands patted one of the men on their shoulder. That ever present smile twitched and spread just a bit wider as he sauntered over towards Invincible, studying the hollow gaze on his broken features. "You will get over it. You work alone, remember?"
A light chortle escaped Sickle's curled lips as he turned his back on Invincible and Toris saw the man's head lift then, his eyes burning with something dark and unfitting on a hero's face. Somehow, despite the electricity surging through his binds, Invincible managed to move himself just enough to reach out towards Sickle, but Toris had moved quickly enough to push his employer out of the way. It was an unfortunate move that left him in the even more unfortunate position of being ensnared by Invincible's grasp. Invincible wasn't a large man, but he was a strong man and in that moment he was filled with a powerful hate that could only consume a man who had just listened on helplessly as everything he loved died.
His arms were clenching down tight around Toris in a twisted, crushing embrace that made the mere act of breathing seem like fire running through his lungs. He tried to cry out, but his voice was trapped in his throat and Toris could practically feel Invincible's hate pulsing into him, burning his skin from the very force of it.
"Release me," Invincible seethed. "Or I will kill him."
He could do it. Toris knew he could. He had seen Invincible crush a gun in his hands like a sheet of paper, had witnessed him go toe to toe with the Omnidroid, and watched as he pulled train cars all by himself. Snapping Toris's frail body in half would be as simple as breaking a popsicle stick for a normal man and panic began pouring into the pit of his stomach.
Toris twisted his head around so that he could gaze uncomfortably over at Sickle. The man's face seemed unchanged, although somewhat impressed, as he stared back at his former idol. "I let you go," he began slowly, "so you can kill me? I think no."
Invincible's grip tightened and somehow Toris could feel his entire body turning blue from the pressure of those arms around him. "So you'd rather see your lap dog die?" he sneered in a voice that was so hot and venomous that it seared Toris's skin.
"I would like to see you do such a thing," Sickle challenged and Toris couldn't believe what he was hearing.
He closed his eyes, feeling the pressure slowly increase and he felt certain that any second now his bones would begin to snap like dried twigs.
That moment never came and the only blow Toris felt was when his head bounced off the hardened floor. He opened his eyes and saw that Invincible had released him, that he was hovering above him once more, suspended and broken and unable to kill a man who had helped to destroy him.
"I knew you couldn't do it," Sickle taunted. "You see? That is difference between you and me: I grew strong, you stayed weak."
Sickle turned to leave once more and Toris was forced to crawl to his trembling feet as the sounds of Invincible's broken sobs echoed in his ears.
--
The trip to shore hadn't been easy, but they had made it. The sun was nearly set, casting the unfamiliar beach in a ghostly grayish glow, but the sturdy sand felt so good against his rubbery limbs that Francis could not find it in himself to complain.
Alfred had collapsed beside him, breathing more heavily than Francis could ever recall seeing, and Mathieu sat huddled into a ball just a few feet away with his face still buried in the worn leather of the duffle bag. Francis allowed them to rest for a little while and he turned his gaze towards the sea as he gathered his strength and his thoughts.
As usual, his body had acted before his brain, and in a moment fueled only by paternal instinct he had unbuckled himself from the co-pilot's seat and wrapped himself around the twins, shielding their bodies with his and leaving Gilbert to face the force of the missiles on his own. He kept replaying the moment over and over in his mind and each time he did he knew that he could have saved his friend, but he hadn't. He had chosen his children over a man who had fought side by side with him through countless battles. He had left a good man, a friend, a brother, to die such an unfitting death. As a father, he knew he had done the right thing, but as a friend...
Francis pushed those thoughts away for now as he gathered Alfred's body into his arms and carried him the way he had done when he was just a baby. He had blacked out for a moment after the plane had been hit, but the rushing wind in his face and the frantic screams of his children ringing in his ears had been enough to draw him back to the waking world before they could hit the water.
"Where's Uncle Gil?" Alfred had asked him as they waded through the open ocean, his blue eyes so wide and innocent in that moment, that Francis hadn't had the heart to say the obvious.
They had waited in the rocky waters for a few minutes longer than necessary, because even though Francis had quite clearly seen the nose of the plane disappear into the depths below, a part of him had still clung to the hope that Gilbert would resurface at the last minute or float down from the clouds and laugh at them for thinking that he would die so easily.
When it became painfully clear that neither of those scenarios were likely to happen, Francis remembered that he had two children to take care of and quickly formed a plan to get them to shore safely. Using his body as a makeshift raft and Alfred's legs as a motor, they made their way to the same island where the missiles had originated from, because Francis knew they would find Arthur there.
After gathering his strength, Francis lifted himself and Alfred off of the sand, summoning up what little energy he had in him to do so, and wordlessly motioned for Mathieu to follow them as they trekked inland. He found a cave not far from the shore and left the boys there to rest while he gathered wood to make a fire. When he returned, Alfred was half asleep and half awake, resting most of his weight on his brother's shoulder as silent tears slipped down Mathieu's flushed cheeks.
Their suits were already dry by the time the fire had been set and burning and Francis took the opportunity to slip between his children and press their bodies against his. He knew they all needed that.
"Boys," he began softly as he ran a hand through their still damp hair. "I need to tell you both the truth." The twins squirmed as they adjusted themselves in order to get a better look at him. "Your father is somewhere on this island," Francis explained, "and he may be in grave danger. I have to go find him so we can all go home."
"You mean you're going to leave us, Pops?" Alfred asked as his grip on Francis's suit tightened.
"Don't go Papa," Mathieu whispered as a note of fear crept into his voice.
He shushed them gently, pressing a kiss to each of their heads before reaching into the duffle bag. "I have to go. Daddy needs me."
He slipped his hand into the brown duffle and grabbed the three navy blue masks that Feliciano had made for them. Francis sighed as he pressed the largest one onto his face, covering his eyes with the heavy blue material. It had been a long time since he had hid his features behind a strip of rubber, yet the weight of it still felt quite familiar.
"Put these on," he instructed as he handed a mask to each twin. "You must guard your identities at all cost. I want you both to stay in the cave, but if anyone should find you..."
"We can use our powers?" Alfred asked eagerly, an excited sort of gleam lighting his eyes.
"Yes," Francis said and he found himself laughing despite the situation.
"But you and Dad always said we shouldn't use our powers," Mathieu countered. There was a hint of desperation in his tone as Mathieu shifted closer to Francis's side, pressing himself against him, seeking his warmth. "You always said that if someone sees us using our powers then we'd be taken away forever!"
Francis sighed. Clearly he and Arthur had taught the boys far too well. "Mathieu," Francis began wearily, before mindfully adjusting his tone. It wasn't Mathieu's fault that up until this moment using his natural gifts had been consider a taboo. It wasn't his fault that he lived in a world that didn't want him to exist. "This is more important than some silly law that says you will be taken away for being different. This island is crawling with armed men and women, people who will not hold back because you are children. They will kill you."
The excited twinkle disappeared from Alfred's eyes and Mathieu's skin turned positively ashen at Francis's words. It was not his intention to frighten them. He only wanted his boys to understand the situation they were in and not for the first time that day he wished that they were safely tucked away at home instead of here listening to this little speech.
He wrapped his arms around them and offered their cheeks one last kiss. "Stay together," he told them. "Keep each other safe. I will be back by morning."
With one last look at his twins, he stood and turned towards the mouth of the cave. He didn't get very far, only stepping a foot or two into the jungle, before he heard Mathieu's voice approaching him.
"Papa," he cried out as he trotted towards Francis's side. He hadn't put his mask on yet, it was still clenched desperately between his fingers, and it made the teary guilt glimmering in his gaze all the more prominent. "Papa, I... I wanted to say... back on the plane... I'm sorry."
Francis felt his heart break into more pieces than could be counted and in that moment he would have given anything to relieve the guilt weighing down on Mathieu's heart. "Do not blame yourself," he whispered to him, because if he spoke any louder the boy would have heard the strain in his voice. "What happened was not your fault." It was mine. "It was wrong of me to ask so much of you, but things are different now. There is no time for doubt."
"I can't do this," Mathieu whispered.
"You can," he assured, pressing a hand to that pale cheek and wiping away the tears. "There is more strength in side of you than you realize. After all, heroics are in your blood."
Mathieu gave a weakened nod as he used the back of his gloved hands to dry away the rest of his tears. Francis knew it would take more than one little speech for Mathieu to realize what was inside of him, because it was simply something that he would have to discover for himself, but in that moment he hoped that it could be enough. He kissed his cheeks one last time, treasuring the smooth skin and familiar scent, before turning to sprint off into the darkened jungle and the unknown dangers lurking ahead.
Next Chapter
Character(s) or Pairing(s): FACES featuring FrUK In this chapter: Belgium, Lithuania, Prussia, Russia
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU, Slash, Action/Adventure, Implied Past Mpreg, Character Death
Summary: After a series of lawsuits forces him and the rest of the Supers into retirement, Arthur Kirkland finds himself trapped living a mundane suburban life. When adventure calls he's quick to respond, but how will it affect the rest of his family?
Prologue|Chapter 1|Chapter 2|Chapter 3|Chapter 4|Chapter 5|Chapter 6
Chapter 7 Missile Lock
Francis was worried and Gilbert was too -- a fact that he had been able to decipher despite his friend's seemingly indifferent demeanor -- because this whole situation seemed wrong. They were approaching the island's air space, were in clear range of its tower, yet no one was responding to their frequent attempts to make contact.
"Give it another shot," Gilbert instructed as he motioned towards the head set that Francis had recently pulled off in frustration. "Maybe we weren't close enough before."
"The control panel clearly says that we are in range," he sighed even while placing the heavy headphones back on to his head. He grimaced as the thick straps and foam padding mussed and tangled his hair and the mouth piece continued to resist his efforts to adjust its length. "And you should be the one doing this. You are the pilot after all."
Gilbert gave an apathetic shrug and Francis was already rolling his eyes even before his friend could offer his excuse. "I never did pay attention to all that boring stuff. I just wanna fly."
"You cannot keep relying on your co-pilots," Francis reminded him. "After all, how long has it been since Ludwig was last able to fly with you?"
Gilbert said nothing as his jaw clenched and his hands tightened their grip on the controls and for a moment Francis felt awful for reminding Gilbert of the gap that had grown between him and his brother. A heavy silence settled over the cockpit and Francis decided to take the opportunity to once again attempt to radio the control tower. Again he repeated the altitude, direction, and level at which the jet was flying and requested permission to land, only to be met with more silence.
"Okay, this is probably not nearly as bad as you think it is," Gilbert piped in hopefully. "It's a small island. Maybe nobody's at the tower."
"Ah, oui, I am sure that they are all out getting coffee," Francis returned cynically. There was a strange, fidgety feeling tickling the pit of his stomach, the same sort of feeling he usually got when danger was dead ahead of him, and he did not like it one bit.
"Oh, just relax. I can land us safely without any help from the tower."
"If you say so," Francis sighed as he fought against the urge to jump from his seat and start pacing the length of the plane. Instead he simply groaned and rested his head in his hand.
What on earth had Arthur gotten himself into? he thought, the question ringing louder than any other thought churning through his mind, because the closer they got to this little speck of land, the more Francis felt absolutely certain that Arthur was not there of his own free will.
"So I was on the phone with my stupid brother," he heard Gilbert say and Francis realized only then that his friend must have been speaking for some time now. "And get this; he actually calls me up to tell me that Feli has already started turning one of their guest rooms into a nursery. Apparently they're already buying clothes and toys and shit for some kid that they don't even have yet! Can you believe them? Can you believe him? Calling me up just to tell me all this crap. Like I care!"
"Ludwig just wants to talk to you," Francis told him wearily as he recalled the panicked look he had seen on Ludwig's face the other day whenever the word "baby" had been brought up. "He wants to reach out to you, because he is scared."
"Hey, my brother doesn't get scared," Gilbert huffed defensively. "Besides, why the hell would he think that I know anything about any of this crap?"
"Well clearly he is aware that you are just as clueless as he is, but he also knows that you are his big brother. He is used to turning to you when things get a bit... overwhelming."
Once again Gilbert fell silent as a far off gleam settled into his red eyes. Francis knew right away that he was both processing and suppressing everything that had just been said between them and Francis wished that he would stop being so pig headed, even for just a moment. He understood where Gilbert's fears were coming from, but that didn't stop Francis from worrying over the whole situation. The last thing he wanted was for Gilbert and Ludwig's relationship to turn cold and distant all because one party could not accept that the other's life was moving in another direction.
It is like my parents all over again, Francis thought only to realize then that he may be projecting his own bad experiences onto this situation.
"Heh, why am I taking relationship advice from you of all people," Gilbert snorted as a teasing smile began pulling at his lips. "Oh right, because you're such an 'expert' on human behavior. Geez, Francis, just because you banged my brother doesn't mean you know him."
"I told you to not to mention that," Francis chided dully. He had grown quite weary of Gilbert's tendency to bring up his steamy past whenever he disapproved of something Francis said. "It was a onetime thing and... and Arthur has not gotten over it."
"He should be used to it by now. I mean, you did bang just about every Super who gave you a sideways glance, especially the ones with super strength." Gilbert tittered and Francis only shook his head as a little smile began tugging at the corners of his own lips. His old tomcat ways really wasn't something that he should be thinking about at the moment. "And I still can't believe you settled for Artie. Artie! Of all people..."
"What can I say? I loved him."
"Yeah, right," Gilbert groaned, rolling his eyes in a far too exaggerated manner. "Admit it, it was cause he knocked you up, wasn't it?"
"Gilbert," Francis said, his voice somewhere between a warning and a sigh, because they had had this conversation far too many times.
"Come on Francis, it's just the two of us. Tell me the truth."
"The truth is that I was always going to marry him."
"Bull!" Gilbert laughed. "You are never gonna get me to believe that you were always planning to go through with that wedding, especially given how many times you used to tell me and Toni how you didn't want to ever get hitched or have kids."
"And I did both. Willingly."
"Yeah, and look where it's gotten you," Gilbert said only to clear his throat seconds later as if to acknowledge that he had said one word too many.
Francis felt his throat tighten as he wrapped his arms around himself and squeezed. These last few days had been hard, because he honestly didn't know what was going to happen between him and Arthur. The words "divorce" and "separation" had popped into his mind more than a few times, because Arthur had lied, lied, and put himself and all of them in grave danger because of childish impulses. Francis wondered, not for the first time, if he had it in him to forgive such a thing.
"I... I need to..." he began as he pushed himself out of the co-pilot chair and towards the bathroom situated just outside the cockpit.
"Francis," Gilbert said quickly as he reached out a hand in order to stop his friend's retreating form. Francis turned towards him and found only sincerity in Gilbert's red eyes. "Listen, Francis, I want you to know that... well, whatever happens..."
"I know."
"You and the kids can always come crash at my place if you need to."
"No Gilbert," Francis said, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. "Your apartment is too small and smells of stale wurst and spilled beer."
They both gave a soft chuckle as Francis grabbed his duffle bag and slipped into the bathroom.
--
Toris knew good and well that he should not be in awe, but he had to admit that he was more than a bit impressed by Captain Invincible. The man had not only dismantled an Omnidroid in record time, he had also gone up against Red Sickle and lived. True, Invincible had his enhanced strength and agility, but with all of his gadgets and knowledge, Red Sickle should have been unstoppable.
A fleeting, fluttery sort of feeling welled up in the pit of his stomach at that thought. It was certainly a blotch in his employer's nearly impeccable record, but Toris knew it did not matter. They were so close to completing the final phase of their plans, that there was nothing that could stand in Red Sickle's way.
Toris gazed up at Invincible's body, suspended motionless in mid air thanks to a series of cuff and electros that held enough power to render even a seasoned Super like Invincible ineffective. In the darkened room a number of control panels and monitors hummed and beeped, providing the only source of light to be found and causing the air to feel quite stuffy and warm. These machines were new, state of the art and never tested, and Toris had a feeling that Red Sickle was eager to see how it would perform against his former idol.
From the far end of the chamber, a door slid open with a steady hiss, and Red Sickle's towering form all but floated towards them. Toris took a slight step back as his employer approached Captain Invincible's prone form and suddenly Toris felt very much like an ant in the presence of titans.
"Impressive as always, Captain Invincible," Sickle smiled as a note of merriment colored his words. "Not many could survive such a fall or withstand such powerful blast, but you did! You even managed to evade my scanners. No wonder Ivan used to worship you as a child. But on other hand, you did make big mistake when you sent out emergency signal. Too bad."
Invincible raised his head then, his eyes meeting Sickle's smirking face with only weariness and confusion. Toris wondered if he was still feeling woozy, because their security system certainly had done a number on him and the guards in the facility could be quite vicious when they were in the mood. "What signal?" he asked.
Red Sickle turned towards one of the guards who had been sitting by a control panel, observing the conversation with dutiful stillness. Just like all the other suited men in this building he was silent and faceless and Toris hated him. Sickle waved his hand casually, his smile never once faltering, and Toris watched as the guard twisted a dial and allowed a volt of electricity to course its way through Invincible's body. He watched as Invincible stiffened his body tensing and his eyes screwing shut as a heavy groan escaped through his clenched teeth. Toris felt his stomach coil at the sight, because while it had only lasted a moment, the image of the powerful man twisting in pain seemed to jolt its way into his heart along with the shock waves.
"You are very funny, Captain Invincible," Red Sickle chuckled once the electrocution had ended. "But we both know that homing beckon emitted from you last night. And now, this morning, mysterious plane is approaching island and requesting permission to land."
"I didn't contact anyone you demented twit!" Invincible all but seethed and even if it lasted only for a fleeting second, Toris still caught the way Sickle's eyes widened as if struck.
Sickle walked over to the control panel himself then, brushing the guard's hand away, in order to twist the dial until the knob seemed ready to snap off. Invincible howls of pain were like finger nails digging into his ears and the very light from the electric currents were enough to turn the dim room an eerie white. His suspended frame rocked and convulsed back and forth, back and forth, for what seemed like an eternity as Invincible tried desperately to withstand the pain.
For a moment, Toris felt certain that he would be sick, because even after Sickle had stopped, the smell of smoke and cooked flesh still hung in the air. Yet it was the too gentle gloved hand caressing his side that stopped him, not from its comfort, but from the reminder of where he was and what he was doing.
"Play message," Sickle instructed and it took Toris a moment to realize that he had been addressing him.
He gave a weak nod as he walked over towards one of the massive machines and pressed a button that allowed that morning's tape to play. The sound of a heavily accent man's voice drifted into the room and Toris watched as Invincible's head, despite the immense pain no doubt coursing through him, snapped up at the sound.
Sickle must have caught the gesture as well, because his smile grew just a little bit wider, just a bit colder, at the sight. "So this is comrade, da?" he asked merrily. "Well, we must send them reply."
--
As foolish as it was, Francis had to admit that he felt a bit better. Somehow, the mere act of slipping into the tight red and blue body suit was enough to steady his nerves and give him a (likely false) sense of control over the situation. Not that he liked the design any more than he had previously. He glanced into the small mirror mounted on the wall in front of him and sneered at the large white "I" adorning his chest.
"I am not Mrs. Invincible," he muttered to his reflection as if that would be enough to change the detested emblem.
With a heavy sigh, he stepped out of the bathroom. He turned towards the cockpit and saw Gilbert flying steady and level among a field of clear blue sky. Not for the first time he prayed that he was overreacting and that the situation was not nearly as dire as he feared.
"Whoa! Where'd you get the flashy new suit?"
Francis blinked, his mind returning to the present at the sound of his friend's voice, because it was only then that he realized that Gilbert had been staring at him. A smile formed on his lips as he ran a hand over the deep red fabric that clung to every inch of his skin. "From Feliciano," he told him. "He gave it to me for free. Just like old times!"
"What? You mean Ludwig gave you a suit, but didn't bother making one for his own brother?" Gilbert gave an indignant huff before turning back towards the front of the plane. Somehow, Francis knew that he was still pouting. "Unbelievable!"
"Gilbert," he began carefully as he tossed his duffle bag into one of the empty seats that filled out the body of the plane.
He would have said more, but the soft "ow!" that greeted his ears was enough to give him pause. Francis turned towards the seat where he had deposited his bag and saw that the brown duffle was currently hovering a few inches above the chair's red fabric.
"Mathieu!"
With a sheepish murmur of "Maple," the air shifted and shimmered until Mathieu appeared in front of him, wearing his own suit at that. "It's not my fault Papa!" Mathieu cried out instantly. "This was Alfred's idea."
"Liar!" Francis twisted around just as Alfred's blond head appeared behind a chair just a few rows back. He barely had time to process the sight of him in his red and blue Super suit before the boy ran next to him in order to glare over at Mathieu. "You're the one who said 'Papa's acting really weird and Dad's probably in big trouble.'"
"Alfred ran away and I knew he was gonna follow you to the airport," Mathieu went on, ignoring his twin even as Alfred hollered at the top of his lungs in order to drown out Mathieu's words. "I knew that it was a bad idea so I came with him to try to bring him back!"
"You're the one who saw Pops and Uncle Gil getting onto the jet," Alfred countered, speaking directly to Mathieu. "You said 'I wonder what they're up to' which was totally code for 'let's sneak on board the plane!'"
"Francis, what's going on back there?" Gilbert called out from the cockpit, his own words lapping over the boys and their frantic explanations. "Are the wonder twins on board? I signed up for a rescue mission not a freakin' family vacation! What do I look like, a babysitter?"
"Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute!" Francis cried out and was pleased when all three voices came to a sudden end. "You mean to tell me that you boys were here the entire time?" Francis began slowly, focusing his attention only on the children. "Were you two listening to our conversation?"
Mathieu flushed, Alfred looked away, and both boys began squirming under his gaze. "We... we weren't trying to listen," Mathieu said sheepishly.
"Especially not to that part where you and Uncle Gil were talking about all the people you had sex with," Alfred put in helpfully. "Or... or when he said you didn't want to have kids."
"He was joking, right Papa? You wanted us right?"
"And what did Uncle Gil mean when he said you married Dad 'cause he knocked you up? You guys always said you were married for a year before you had us."
"Oh my..." The words withered away and died in his throat, because the idea that his babies had suddenly been let in on some of his darkest secrets was enough to make his insides grow cold. "Gilbert!"
"Hey! I didn't know they were on board," Gilbert said defensively and on any other occasion, Francis may have let it go, but at the moment he wanted to ring Gilbert's neck.
Of course, that thought was quickly pushed aside when a more pressing issue came to mind. "What about Angelique?" Francis gasped as he felt his heart nearly come to a halt at the very notion. "Did you two leave the baby alone?"
"No way, Pops! We're not stupid," Alfred cried defensively.
"We called a babysitter before we left," Mathieu put in. "And then we texted Uncle Antonio and said you'd be taking us with you."
"So you left your baby sister in the hands of a stranger, lied to a close family friend, and ran away from home? Mon Dieu! What have you two become?"
"You?" Gilbert supplied helpfully.
"Be quiet!" Francis ordered sternly, because he was not in the mood for jokes. What had happened to his family? Francis had always known that his boys (well, Alfred at least) could be quite mischievous at times, but never would he have expected something like this. "You two will be in big trouble when we get home," he huffed as he marched towards the phone mounted to a wall near the cockpit. "And do not think that you can pout your way out of this! Your school mates will be going off to college by the time you will be allowed to leave your room again."
A set of sheepish looks had already settled onto the twins' faces, but Francis told himself quite sternly that he would not let either of them off easily, no matter how cute they looked. He quickly dialed a few numbers, pounding on the digits with more force than necessary, before pressing the phone against his ear.
"Hey munchkins, why don't you guys come up here and watch your Uncle Gil fly?" Gilbert suggested playfully and Francis wasn't at all surprised to see the boys scampering from their seats and into the cockpit.
He distantly listened to Gilbert complaining at the sight of the children's new suits until the steady chimes on the phone were replaced by a teenage girl's friendly voice. "Kirkland-Bonnefoy residence. Emma speaking."
"Hello Emma," Francis greeted. It was a struggle to push away the annoyance clawing at his words in order to speak in his usual charming tone, but he managed it. The fact that this girl, Emma, had referred to the family as the "Kirkland-Bonnefoys" certainly helped to improve his spirits, because to Francis there was no greater annoyance than when someone skipped over his last name and acknowledged them collectively as "the Kirklands." (The only thing that could irritate him more was to see a piece of junk mail addressed to "Mrs. Francis Kirkland.") "This is Francis Bonnefoy."
"Oh, Mr. Bonnefoy! How good to hear from you," she said merrily. "I see the boys got in contact with you."
"Yes, about that. You see, the boys hired you without my knowledge and... Well, Angelique is not used to being around strangers, so I would feel much better calling a family friend to look after her."
"You don't have to worry about that, Mr. Bonnefoy," Emma said breezily. "I'm great with kids! I've had tons of experience babysitting. I can cook, clean, do laundry, and I could probably change a diaper with my eyes closed! Besides, Angelique seems to like me just fine. I made her some waffles and she ate them all up. She got a bit sticky, but I'll clean up her up in just a sec, which I guess won't be a big deal since your boys told me she loves bath time."
"Yes, well..." Francis began, but soon found his words coming to a fumbling halt. He didn't know what else to say, aside from the fact that he rarely ever let Angelique out of his sight and only felt comfortable doing so when he knew that she was around someone he could trust. Angelique may not have been a Super like the twins, but that didn't stop the little voice in the back of his mind from whispering to him that he needed to give Antonio a call and have him trade places with this girl. "Emma, I am sure that you are a fine babysitter, but I am not comfortable with this," he said honestly. "I will pay you for your time when I get back, but I would rather have a friend take over."
"There's no need, Mr. Bonnefoy," she assured him. "I swear there's nothing this baby can throw at me that I can't handle."
His mouth opened in an effort to make one final argument, but the shrill, steady beep that cut through the calm within the plane caused him to swallow the words in his throat.
"What the hell?" Gilbert muttered thoughtfully as Francis quickly placed the phone back on its cradle.
"Hey Uncle Gil, what does 'missile lock' mean?" Alfred asked as he leaned over Gilbert's shoulder in order to get a better look at the words flashing against the control panel.
"It means you munchkins had better strap yourselves in."
"What?" Mathieu whispered, a hint of panic coloring his words as his wide eyes turned towards Francis. "Papa?"
"Do as you are told," Francis ordered as he shoved the two towards the tail end of the plane and strapped himself in the co-pilot seat. He felt the jet's engine's kick into high gear as soon as his fingers touched the headset and the force of the sudden acceleration was almost enough to make him lose his grip. He heard the children yelp in shock and allowed himself to take a moment to glance back at them to see that they had indeed strapped themselves into their seats.
The beep was still echoing through the cabin and Francis could now see the clear outline of two missiles closing in on their tail on the control panel's display. Despite their increased speed, the missiles were keeping pace with them, and Francis's stomach was filling with dread even as he switched the radio back on.
"Aren't there any weapons on this thing?" Gilbert asked as his eyes roamed frantically across the sea of switches and buttons spread out in front of him.
"Why would I bring an armed plane on a rescue mission?" Francis snapped.
"Why wouldn't you bring an armed plane on a rescue mission?" he countered just as he sent the plane into a sharp nose dive.
Seeing the field of clear blue ocean rushing up towards them was enough to pull Francis's mind out of the panicked cloud it had drifted into and he quickly began signaling the tower, requesting that they disengage. Gilbert pulled the plane skyward once more, but the maneuver hadn't been enough to halt the twin rockets in their pursuit of them. Francis could feel his heart churning in his ears, because the control tower was still refusing to acknowledge his calls and even when he informed them that there were children aboard their plane, the missiles stayed on course.
"I don't think that's gonna work, Franny," Gilbert managed to say from between gritted teeth. It had been quite some time since he had been forced to pilot a plane under these conditions and Francis could see that Gilbert was running out of tricks and maneuvers in order to get them out of danger. "You should probably start thinking of something else."
"Mathieu!" Francis began as he twisted around in his seat in order to get a better look at his children. From his angle, he couldn't see Alfred, but Mathieu was in his line of sight and was currently clutching his duffle bag tight against his chest. "Mathieu, you need to put a force field around the plane!"
"Whuh what?" Mathieu stammered as he blinked owlishly at Francis. He could see the frightened tears glistening in the boy's eyes and a small part of Francis felt absolutely horrible for putting the child in such a position. "I've never done one that big before!"
"You have to try," Francis urged just as Gilbert sent the plane into a tail spin, causing them to be jerked roughly to the right of the cabin. "You have to do it!"
He did try, but it was impossible for someone so inexperienced to use their powers properly under so much pressure and Mathieu's fingers fumbled and jerked about dumbly as he managed to only create tiny little bubbles of energy that popped in midair before they could expand more than a foot.
"Parachutes," he heard Gilbert ground out. "Does this thing have any parachutes?"
Francis didn't know, but he doubted that he'd be able to find them, grab enough for all four of them, put them on, and jump out of the plane before they were blown to bits.
It was only then that Francis recalled Ludwig and Feliciano's little demonstration from just the other day. His suit would be able to withstand a direct blow from two missiles. But what about the children? But what about Gilbert?
"Papa!" Alfred cried out and Francis didn't have to look at the display screen to see that their time had run out.
--
"We have a confirmed hit," one of the men said in a voice that was far too flat and neutral for Toris's liking. "Target destroyed."
His head felt heavy and his legs were wobbling so badly that he had to rest most of his weight against one of the large terminals just to keep from collapsing. Children. There had been children aboard that plane. The very thought alone was enough to make his stomach churn. It was hard enough having to sleep at night knowing what they had done -- what he had helped to do -- to so many men and women, but children...
Toris closed his eyes against the thought and found himself remembering the way Captain Invincible had struggled against his binds as the voice, a pilot or copilot, had continued to plea for them to call off their attack. Toris had read Invincible's file, he knew that he had a family, was married with three children and he wondered if they had been the ones on that plane.
He turned towards Invincible then and saw that his body had gone completely slack. Even in the dim light of the room, Toris could still see that his skin had gone horribly pale and the once great Super had never looked more frail and weak in his eyes. It was almost as if all the life had been sucked out of him and Toris wanted to go somewhere dark and quiet so he could weep for him.
"Oh, too bad," Red Sickle tutted as his heavy gloved hands patted one of the men on their shoulder. That ever present smile twitched and spread just a bit wider as he sauntered over towards Invincible, studying the hollow gaze on his broken features. "You will get over it. You work alone, remember?"
A light chortle escaped Sickle's curled lips as he turned his back on Invincible and Toris saw the man's head lift then, his eyes burning with something dark and unfitting on a hero's face. Somehow, despite the electricity surging through his binds, Invincible managed to move himself just enough to reach out towards Sickle, but Toris had moved quickly enough to push his employer out of the way. It was an unfortunate move that left him in the even more unfortunate position of being ensnared by Invincible's grasp. Invincible wasn't a large man, but he was a strong man and in that moment he was filled with a powerful hate that could only consume a man who had just listened on helplessly as everything he loved died.
His arms were clenching down tight around Toris in a twisted, crushing embrace that made the mere act of breathing seem like fire running through his lungs. He tried to cry out, but his voice was trapped in his throat and Toris could practically feel Invincible's hate pulsing into him, burning his skin from the very force of it.
"Release me," Invincible seethed. "Or I will kill him."
He could do it. Toris knew he could. He had seen Invincible crush a gun in his hands like a sheet of paper, had witnessed him go toe to toe with the Omnidroid, and watched as he pulled train cars all by himself. Snapping Toris's frail body in half would be as simple as breaking a popsicle stick for a normal man and panic began pouring into the pit of his stomach.
Toris twisted his head around so that he could gaze uncomfortably over at Sickle. The man's face seemed unchanged, although somewhat impressed, as he stared back at his former idol. "I let you go," he began slowly, "so you can kill me? I think no."
Invincible's grip tightened and somehow Toris could feel his entire body turning blue from the pressure of those arms around him. "So you'd rather see your lap dog die?" he sneered in a voice that was so hot and venomous that it seared Toris's skin.
"I would like to see you do such a thing," Sickle challenged and Toris couldn't believe what he was hearing.
He closed his eyes, feeling the pressure slowly increase and he felt certain that any second now his bones would begin to snap like dried twigs.
That moment never came and the only blow Toris felt was when his head bounced off the hardened floor. He opened his eyes and saw that Invincible had released him, that he was hovering above him once more, suspended and broken and unable to kill a man who had helped to destroy him.
"I knew you couldn't do it," Sickle taunted. "You see? That is difference between you and me: I grew strong, you stayed weak."
Sickle turned to leave once more and Toris was forced to crawl to his trembling feet as the sounds of Invincible's broken sobs echoed in his ears.
--
The trip to shore hadn't been easy, but they had made it. The sun was nearly set, casting the unfamiliar beach in a ghostly grayish glow, but the sturdy sand felt so good against his rubbery limbs that Francis could not find it in himself to complain.
Alfred had collapsed beside him, breathing more heavily than Francis could ever recall seeing, and Mathieu sat huddled into a ball just a few feet away with his face still buried in the worn leather of the duffle bag. Francis allowed them to rest for a little while and he turned his gaze towards the sea as he gathered his strength and his thoughts.
As usual, his body had acted before his brain, and in a moment fueled only by paternal instinct he had unbuckled himself from the co-pilot's seat and wrapped himself around the twins, shielding their bodies with his and leaving Gilbert to face the force of the missiles on his own. He kept replaying the moment over and over in his mind and each time he did he knew that he could have saved his friend, but he hadn't. He had chosen his children over a man who had fought side by side with him through countless battles. He had left a good man, a friend, a brother, to die such an unfitting death. As a father, he knew he had done the right thing, but as a friend...
Francis pushed those thoughts away for now as he gathered Alfred's body into his arms and carried him the way he had done when he was just a baby. He had blacked out for a moment after the plane had been hit, but the rushing wind in his face and the frantic screams of his children ringing in his ears had been enough to draw him back to the waking world before they could hit the water.
"Where's Uncle Gil?" Alfred had asked him as they waded through the open ocean, his blue eyes so wide and innocent in that moment, that Francis hadn't had the heart to say the obvious.
They had waited in the rocky waters for a few minutes longer than necessary, because even though Francis had quite clearly seen the nose of the plane disappear into the depths below, a part of him had still clung to the hope that Gilbert would resurface at the last minute or float down from the clouds and laugh at them for thinking that he would die so easily.
When it became painfully clear that neither of those scenarios were likely to happen, Francis remembered that he had two children to take care of and quickly formed a plan to get them to shore safely. Using his body as a makeshift raft and Alfred's legs as a motor, they made their way to the same island where the missiles had originated from, because Francis knew they would find Arthur there.
After gathering his strength, Francis lifted himself and Alfred off of the sand, summoning up what little energy he had in him to do so, and wordlessly motioned for Mathieu to follow them as they trekked inland. He found a cave not far from the shore and left the boys there to rest while he gathered wood to make a fire. When he returned, Alfred was half asleep and half awake, resting most of his weight on his brother's shoulder as silent tears slipped down Mathieu's flushed cheeks.
Their suits were already dry by the time the fire had been set and burning and Francis took the opportunity to slip between his children and press their bodies against his. He knew they all needed that.
"Boys," he began softly as he ran a hand through their still damp hair. "I need to tell you both the truth." The twins squirmed as they adjusted themselves in order to get a better look at him. "Your father is somewhere on this island," Francis explained, "and he may be in grave danger. I have to go find him so we can all go home."
"You mean you're going to leave us, Pops?" Alfred asked as his grip on Francis's suit tightened.
"Don't go Papa," Mathieu whispered as a note of fear crept into his voice.
He shushed them gently, pressing a kiss to each of their heads before reaching into the duffle bag. "I have to go. Daddy needs me."
He slipped his hand into the brown duffle and grabbed the three navy blue masks that Feliciano had made for them. Francis sighed as he pressed the largest one onto his face, covering his eyes with the heavy blue material. It had been a long time since he had hid his features behind a strip of rubber, yet the weight of it still felt quite familiar.
"Put these on," he instructed as he handed a mask to each twin. "You must guard your identities at all cost. I want you both to stay in the cave, but if anyone should find you..."
"We can use our powers?" Alfred asked eagerly, an excited sort of gleam lighting his eyes.
"Yes," Francis said and he found himself laughing despite the situation.
"But you and Dad always said we shouldn't use our powers," Mathieu countered. There was a hint of desperation in his tone as Mathieu shifted closer to Francis's side, pressing himself against him, seeking his warmth. "You always said that if someone sees us using our powers then we'd be taken away forever!"
Francis sighed. Clearly he and Arthur had taught the boys far too well. "Mathieu," Francis began wearily, before mindfully adjusting his tone. It wasn't Mathieu's fault that up until this moment using his natural gifts had been consider a taboo. It wasn't his fault that he lived in a world that didn't want him to exist. "This is more important than some silly law that says you will be taken away for being different. This island is crawling with armed men and women, people who will not hold back because you are children. They will kill you."
The excited twinkle disappeared from Alfred's eyes and Mathieu's skin turned positively ashen at Francis's words. It was not his intention to frighten them. He only wanted his boys to understand the situation they were in and not for the first time that day he wished that they were safely tucked away at home instead of here listening to this little speech.
He wrapped his arms around them and offered their cheeks one last kiss. "Stay together," he told them. "Keep each other safe. I will be back by morning."
With one last look at his twins, he stood and turned towards the mouth of the cave. He didn't get very far, only stepping a foot or two into the jungle, before he heard Mathieu's voice approaching him.
"Papa," he cried out as he trotted towards Francis's side. He hadn't put his mask on yet, it was still clenched desperately between his fingers, and it made the teary guilt glimmering in his gaze all the more prominent. "Papa, I... I wanted to say... back on the plane... I'm sorry."
Francis felt his heart break into more pieces than could be counted and in that moment he would have given anything to relieve the guilt weighing down on Mathieu's heart. "Do not blame yourself," he whispered to him, because if he spoke any louder the boy would have heard the strain in his voice. "What happened was not your fault." It was mine. "It was wrong of me to ask so much of you, but things are different now. There is no time for doubt."
"I can't do this," Mathieu whispered.
"You can," he assured, pressing a hand to that pale cheek and wiping away the tears. "There is more strength in side of you than you realize. After all, heroics are in your blood."
Mathieu gave a weakened nod as he used the back of his gloved hands to dry away the rest of his tears. Francis knew it would take more than one little speech for Mathieu to realize what was inside of him, because it was simply something that he would have to discover for himself, but in that moment he hoped that it could be enough. He kissed his cheeks one last time, treasuring the smooth skin and familiar scent, before turning to sprint off into the darkened jungle and the unknown dangers lurking ahead.
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