Glory and Love Part 5
Title: Glory and Love
Author: Fab_fan
Fandom: All My Children
Pairing: Frankie/Bianca
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters (just imagine if I did)
Summary: Love and Hate. Glory and Despair. Life and Death. It all began with a single shot in 1861. An AU Historical Story.
The light mist of rain pattered against the glass panes of the Montgomery home. The droplets trickled down in tiny rivers as the sky grew grey with misery. Bianca stood near the window, peering out into the cold summer day. Her face appeared in the glass, and it seemed as if the tiny specks of water were not rain but her tears, falling mercilessly from her sad brown eyes and cascading down her pale cheeks.
Bianca let out a tired sigh and raised a hand to the window. It was cool to the touch, and her palm tingled at the sensation. Her mind barely recognized the change, however. While her gaze might be fixed on the rain and the mudding road outside, it was not actually seeing it. Instead, her mind was where it had been for days. Where it continued to be no matter the time of day or night.
Her teeth bit down on her bottom lip, the soft fleshing quivering dangerously. How could Frances do such a thing? How could she...run off and join the army? Join the war? Bianca bit down harder, her mouth shaking with each question and the images they produced. She knew Frances let her imagination and heart take over many times. She had always been the one to be guided by the beauty of poetry and song. David had once called her a romantic, seeing the world through the eyes of a dreamer.
Frances’s dreams were filled with gallant horses and glory.
Bianca’s dreams were filled with blood and death.
She tried to see it like Frances did. She tried so hard. If only she could believe as Frances did, that she would return home a hero and without pain or injury. But, Bianca couldn’t. Every time she attempted to think about it, visions of Frances being mangled by a hail of bullets, her body falling to the ground, twisted in pain and suffering would play across her eyes. The charming grin that could always make her smile whenever Frances showed it to her was gone, her lips frozen in death forever unable to recite the poetry she loved to read or tease Maggie about James. That voice would never tenderly say her name. Frances was the only one who ever said her name in such a way.
Bianca closed her eyes for a moment, the sting of tears burning and threatening to fall and join the rain in her reflection. She pressed her lips together and swiftly cupped her hand over them, valiantly fighting to hold in the sob. She would not cry. Not again. She had been weeping so long it was a wonder she had any tears left inside. She hastily stepped away from the window. Her head dropped, and she inhaled deeply, banishing the images of a bleeding Frances from her brain. She couldn’t think of them anymore.
As she stepped further away from the window and toward the crackling fireplace, the memory of Frances’s declaration stormed into her thoughts without mercy.
“I did it.”
“I volunteered for the cavalry.”
Bianca’s chest ached as the words rolled around, burning their way like a disease in her body. The burn reached her chest, and it felt like the sun was wrapping its fiery arms around her heart, squeezing until it hurt beyond measure.
“Why Frances?” Bianca whimpered into the quiet. “Why are you doing this?” Her voice cracked, and she breathed in sharply.
A firm knock on the front door echoed in the house, and Bianca glanced toward it. The nightmare of a soldier waiting on the other side to tell her Frances had gotten herself killed flashed across her eyelids, but she quickly blinked and pushed the idea away. Wiping at her watery red eyes, she smoothed out her dress. Her hands quaked with barely concealed emotion as they slid across the scratchy material, and Bianca pulled them away. She clasped them together in front of her. She only needed something to hold on to to quell the shivering...to quell the fear and sadness boiling within her.
Pulling her shoulders back, she slowly made her way to the door. When she reached it and placed her hand on the doorknob, she paused. The image of a soldier passed through her brain again, and she choked out a gasp. Shaking her head, she tampered down the lump in her throat and the painful churn of her belly. Her hand yanked the door open, and she was met by a somewhat cold and wet Stone.
Bianca felt her lungs almost burst as she sucked in mouthfuls of air. Frances?
Then, she got a better look. Those eyes weren’t the same ones she had seen filled with so much excitement and vigor. That face was not glowing with prideful ideas of glory and heroism. No, she was seeing sorrowful friendship and a face pinched with grieving acceptance.
“Hello, Bianca.” Maggie greeted. The rain fell behind her off the covered porch like a mournful waterfall.
“Maggie,” Bianca swallowed thickly. She hesitantly gestured for her to come in, “step inside.”
Maggie walked in, brushing the water from her face and clothing. Bianca shut the door and spun around walking past Maggie and toward the kitchen, “W-What are you doing here? I will make you some tea, you must be cold from the rain.”
“It is rather cold out.” Maggie nodded. She watched Bianca, “Miserable even.”
Bianca didn’t turn around, keeping her gaze forward. This might not be Frances, but even the reminder of her features caused Bianca’s heart to plummet. “Yes.”
“Much like my sister has been.”
The sentence hung in the air. It reverberated across each nook and cranny, filling the tiny cracks and shooting into Bianca’s chest. Her steps faltered and she grabbed for the wall to steady herself.
“Bianca,” Maggie began.
“No, I do not want to hear it.” her heart felt like an invisible hand had fisted around it and was viciously trying to tear it from her chest.
Maggie sighed behind her, “I know you are angry with her. I am too. Furious.”
“Angry?” Bianca’s voice was muffled with emotion. “She...” her voice trailed off, unable to finish. She joined the army. She signed her own death certificate.
“Yes, angry.” Maggie said.
She was angry. She wanted to yell at Frances, shake her until she saw reason. Until she said she would not leave. But, her anger was nothing compared to the gut-wrenching pain that came with Frances being gone.
Maggie’s voice was nearer now, having taken a step closer to the brunette, “I am just as angry as you are at Frances. I have yelled at her. I have scolded her. I have said everything I can think of to change her mind. She hasn’t.”
The invisible hand tore harder at her heart.
Maggie sighed, “I might be angry with my sister, but I also do not like to see her upset, even if she has made me so with her choices.”
Upset?
“Frances is terribly upset, Bianca. She is devastated. I know you are angry. I understand. But please, you have not spoke to Frances since that day. She has not seen you.”
Her stomach clenched and her mouth turned down at the thought of Frances being upset.
“Bianca, please, I am asking you, begging you as a friend and as a sister, speak to Frances. She will be leaving soon, and she is nearly inconsolable because she believes you will never forgive her.”
Bianca swiped at her eyes and turned around, finally facing Maggie. She clenched her jaw tightly and her words trembled, “She never should have done this, Maggie.”
“I know. But, she has.”
Bianca ran a hand through her thick dark brown locks, tangling her fingers in frustration and hurt, “Why won’t she change her mind? Why does she have to do this?”
“She believes she will become some glorious hero.”
That was something Bianca both knew and feared. She ripped her hand from her hair and clenched it into a fist, “I can’t.”
Maggie narrowed her eyes, “Can’t?”
Bianca looked down at the floor, “I cannot see Frances.”
“Why ever not? She is leaving soon, Bianca!”
“I know that!” Bianca spat out. She inhaled and lowered her voice to a whisper, “I know that.” Her body wanted to see Frances. It craved to. She had never gone this long without seeing the other girl. She had never gone at all without seeing her. This past week had been torture. Her hands begged to touch that tanned skin, to feel the delicate wrist or strong fingers. Her eyes pleaded to see that lopsided smirk. Her ears wailed to hear that playful voice.
But, her mind presented her with visions she could not shake. Images of death and gore that would only amplify with the sight of Frances. No, she could not see her. If she did, she would be overcome with despair and terror.
“Bianca, please.” Maggie said. “Do not let your anger at her be the last thing the two of you have.”
Bianca peered up at her, the heartbreak in her tone palpable, “I can’t.”
For her own sanity.
***
The rain had slowed and finally came to a stop as the sun set behind the fading horizon. Bianca lay in bed, huddled under the quilts and blankets. The rest of her family was asleep, tired from their long days and hoping to get some rest before the next. Bianca, however, could not sleep. She could barely close her eyes. Her mind was spinning, its nonstop energy keeping her awake long after the moon had risen high into the sky and the last candle light flickered and snuffed out.
She gazed at the streak of white moonlight that ventured through her window and spread across her floor. The beam was a small comfort in her raging battle of emotions and thoughts currently being waged in her heart and mind.
Maggie had left empty handed. Bianca refused to see Frances. What Maggie was unable to understand was how much the idea of seeing Frances again both exhilarated and condemned Bianca. The seventeen year old had once believed that nothing had the ability to keep her from Frances, and the same held true for Frances. Nothing had the power to keep them apart. They were the best of friends. Bianca needed her in her life. Oh, how she needed her. She needed it like air. Her lungs begged to breathe, somehow not able to gain the life-giving substance they craved each and every day since she had silently stumbled away from the Hayward-Stone home. The very inkling of the idea that she would never see Frances again caused ice colder than any the north had ever experienced to coat her entire body and chill her all the way down to her soul.
But, how could she look at Frances and not think of the horrible things that were such a possibility now? How could she not imagine blood and tears? Pain and suffering? The light in those luminous eyes flickering out and extinguishing forever? How could she dull the pain and aching that resided in her very being?
Bianca turned onto her side and clutched at the pillow, pulling it further under her head and to her shoulder. Of Frances and Maggie, Frances had always been the one she was drawn to the most. She was wonderful friends with Maggie. Truly wonderful. But, with Frances, it was different. She soared at the way the twin would surprise her with delightful plans and subterfuge. It tickled her the way Frances would always have a joke or lighthearted teasing. The way Frances did not seem to worry about what others thought, even going so far as to outright defy conventional wisdom, made Bianca feel stronger somehow. No matter what, if she was with Frances, everything would be fine. They would be fine. Frances inevitably would have a plan to fix even the most ardent worry. Bianca might worry about her a lot, but Frances without fail returned to her, grinning and coaxing her into a laugh and happiness.
Frances had never really found her place in the world. It was no secret she was searching for purpose, for what she was meant to become. Maggie had her medicine and James. But, Frances did not have such a clear cut path. Bianca supported her in all her searchings and discoveries. To be honest, Bianca always imagined her becoming a poet of sorts, traveling around and reciting Shakespeare and others to whoever would listen. She even, at times, imagined herself at Frances’s side, watching with pride as her friend entertained the masses before they would depart and be alone, just the two of them enjoying life and the world.
Oh, how she had envisioned that so many times. Just as she now clung to the memories of them together. Frances, dangling from a tree branch, securing herself a hidden resting place among the leaves and sunlight. As the blonde laid along a thick branch, she would reach for Bianca, ushering her up to be alongside her. She would read from one of her books of poems, and they would gaze up through the leaves and watch the clouds roll by. Or, Frances and her would be at one of the parties the city elite held. Frances would be leaning against the wall, pointing out people to Bianca and regaling her with hilarious antidotes and mocking commentary.
Oh, why did she have to go?
Bianca rolled onto her back again.
Why was this occurring? Why did this have to be the path Frances ultimately chose? Did she not see that Bianca needed her to stay? Did she not see how much this was hurting her? How was Frances able to make a decision that would separate them?
Bianca sniffled and bit her lip. She wished to Providence and the heavens that she would be separated from Frances no more.
A click sounded.
Bianca frowned. What was that?
Another click. Followed by a rapid staccato of tappings. It was coming from the window. Bianca cautiously stood up, the floor cold on the bottoms of her feet. Her nightgown swished at her ankles as she approached the window. There was a pause as the noise stopped for a few seconds, then it picked back up again.
Peeking out into the night, Bianca felt her throat tighten at what she saw. In the blackness there was the outline of a figure. They were short and thin, the darkness of their clothing blending them in to the night air. Bianca blindly reached for a candle, the figure seeming to be so familiar, yet she dared not hope who it could be. She quickly found the metal holder for the wax source of light and lit it. She held the candle up to the window and looked out.
There, two stories below, standing on the small patch of grass and dirt between her house and the next, stood Frances. Her short blonde hair glimmered in the moonlight. Her hands fidgeted with something...the small pebbles she had been tossing at the window. When she looked up from her palm, the next rock ready to be launched at the window, her eyes found Bianca’s. Bianca felt her heart soar up to the clouds as she saw those hazel orbs for the first time in a week. Her body hummed and she felt as if wings had grown and lifted her from the ground.
Frances’s body seemed to stagger a bit. Her mouth, shining in the moonlight, curved into a relieved ghost of a grin. She dropped the pebbles and waved her hands, gesturing for Bianca to come down. Bianca quickly nodded. She had missed Frances so much. It did not matter that it was late and they should both be asleep. Or that her parents would be upset to hear she was out of the house so late at night, even if it was with that Stone girl. Frances let her arms fall to her sides as she saw the nod and eagerly bounded to the front of the house. Bianca moved away from the window to begin her own trek, when it hit her.
Frances was leaving.
This was not just the two of them venturing out because Frances had come up with some crazy plan to make Bianca smile.
Life was not as it used to be.
Bianca’s soaring heart plummeted. She stumbled a few steps, the overwhelming joy she had felt at finally seeing her friend disappearing and being replaced with the overarching fear, sadness, and worry that had been her constant companion for that week.
Frances was there, though.
Frances had come to see her.
Perhaps she had changed her mind and wanted to tell Bianca.
She held on to the idea like a drowning person clutched to a floating piece of wood. Being careful to not wake her family, Bianca crept out of her bedroom and down the hall. She tiptoed down the stairs, being watchful for the one that creaked, before finally arriving at the front door. The candle shook in her hand, the flickering flame casting uneven quirky shadows on the walls and floors. Taking a steadying breath, she opened the door.
It was cool out, the crisp air wet with the recent rain. The chirping of crickets played a peaceful background tune, and the moonlight followed to cast its glimmering glow on the porch.
At the edge of the porch, where the few steps connected the wooden landing from the dirt path that led to the road, Frances stood. Her arms hung at her sides, her hands grasping onto the cloth of her jacket nervously. Her head was bent, and she peered up through her lashes like a puppy waiting to be beckoned to its master’s side. Her eyes flashed with happiness when they saw Bianca, but it was shortly replaced with hesitancy and painful hope.
Bianca silently closed the door behind her as she fully stepped out onto the porch. She stopped and stared at Frances, basking in her presence. Her mind threatened to shower her with terrifying thoughts, but the very sight of a healthy Frances, the girl she had always known, banished them forever. She felt a lump form in her throat at the way Frances waited. She had never been so patient, always bouncing up to her with comforting familiarity.
Now, though, she waited.
Bianca swallowed past the lump and waved for Frances to come to her. Frances immediately scrambled up the stairs and to the porch, her eyes never leaving Bianca’s. When she was within arms reach, she spoke softly, “Bianca...”
Bianca choked out a watery gasp and breathed out, “Oh, I have missed you.”
Frances’s eyes lit up and she cautiously stuck out her hand. She touched the pad of her fingers to the delicate pale wrist hanging at Bianca’s side. “I missed you as well.”
Bianca smiled, “I knew you would change your mind. I knew it.”
Frances frowned, “Changed my mind?”
“Yes, about joining the army.” Bianca nodded. “To think you would run off and pretend to be a man to fight...”
“Bianca,” Frances tilted her head regretfully, “I have not changed my decision. I will not take back my choice.”
“W-What?” Bianca stammered. She jerked her wrist away from Frances’s touch.
Frances sighed, “I am going to fight.”
Bianca opened and closed her mouth, the sparkle of relief she had felt falling away. Her eyes finally dropped from Frances’s eyes and she saw it. Frances was dressed in a blue uniform. A military uniform.
“No.” Bianca shook her head, “No, no, no.” She backed away from Frances, the candle in her hands threatening to tip over, “Do not say that to me. Do not!”
Frances flinched at the harsh tone. She grasped for the candle, taking it from Bianca’s hold before she could burn herself. She set it aside and looked back at Bianca who was staring at her with so much fear and anger it knocked the air from her body.
“You cannot do this, Frances. Please, do not do this.” Bianca squinted to hold back the tears. “This is wrong.”
Frances formed her hands into fists at her side, wanting so much to touch Bianca in comfort but knowing it would not be welcomed. “I have to.”
“No, you do not! You do not have to do this, Frances! This is not what you were meant to do.” Her voice broke to the shadow of a whimper, “You were not meant to leave me.”
Frances lowered her head, the pain in Bianca’s voice like a stab to her heart. She shuffled her feet, resisting the urge to weep at her friend’s despair, “I...know you are upset with me.” Her tone broke Bianca’s heart even more with its hesitant earnestness. “I-I know you might never forgive me, though I pray you will.” Frances looked up at her, “I cannot stand it when you are upset with me. It is unbearable.”
“Oh, Frances.” Bianca whispered.
Frances pursed her lips lest her emotions take over, “I have never been able to bear you being upset with me. But, I will not desert. Not from this. I beg that you will someday understand that. Understand this is something I must do.” She took a shuddering breath. “You are angry with me, perhaps even hate me. You might never forgive me for this. But, I am leaving tonight to meet with my regiment.”
Tonight? Bianca blinked. No. Not tonight. Not this soon.
“I hope while I am away you will allow me to write to you.” Frances spoke.
Bianca felt the world crash down on her shoulders. Tonight. Frances was leaving this very night. By morning she would be gone.
And she came to see her.
Bianca folded her arms over her chest protectively and murmured, “I would never forgive you if you didn’t.”
Frances perked up at that.
Bianca dispelled the tears from her eyes, instinctively knowing how the sight of them would pain her friend. She cast a minuscule smile at Frances, “I want that more than anything, Frances. If you are to...leave...then you must write.” If Frances was not to be there with her, Bianca refused to lose her completely.
Frances grinned, “Good, because I planned on writing even if you said no.”
Bianca chuckled wetly at the statement.
Frances took a step toward her, “It will be splendid. You’ll see.” She held out her arms and winked, excitement and pride brewing in her tone, “Now tell me, have you ever seen anyone more dashing than I?”
Bianca let her gaze drop from the sparkling hazel eyes to take in the clothing covering Frances’s body. She was in blue. The dark blue wool of her coat contrasted with the light blue of her trousers. The coat had bright yellow braided along the center seam and bottom, her collar as yellow as the morning sun. It ended at her waist, and black boots adorned her feet, riding up to cover her calves. Her plain dark blue sleeves had yellow v’s braided near the wrists as well. The combination of blues and yellow was striking.
“Look.” Frances moved closer to her. She rubbed her knuckles on one of the glistening brass buttons that lined the yellow braid down the middle of her dark blue coat, “shiny as new silver.”
Bianca looked at the button. An eagle, buffed and clean, stared back at her, regal in its disposition. She counted twelve of them, tiny but strong...much like Frances. Along with the eagle there was a marked C.
“It’s for cavalry.” Frances explained, seeing the question on Bianca’s face. She puffed out her chest a little, “I shall be riding into battle.”
Bianca pulled back, not wanting to think of Frances exposing herself to war like that.
“I get a sword and a horse.” Frances enthused. “I am certain we will be the fiercest cavalry to ever be seen. We’ll ride in waving our sabres. The rebels will be so terrified they’ll retreat without even firing a shot.”
Bianca watched the excitement shine on Frances’s face. It was clear that Frances was caught up in the war and what it could be like. Bianca prayed what Frances said was true.
Frances eagerly grasped Bianca’s hand, “Imagine, a whole parade of soldiers riding through the city, the drums playing and the fifes singing. The sun illuminating us like a hand from the heavens.” She cupped Bianca’s hand between both of hers, “I’ll come home, and you will be the first person I see. I’ll ride right up to your front door. Right there.” She nodded over her shoulder at the road. “Just keep watch out that window, and soon you’ll see me galloping up.”
Bianca listened to the scenario Frances weaved so vividly. Would that be how the future would play out? It sounded so...poetic.
“It will be wonderful, you will see.” Frances squeezed her hand. “I will have so many stories of what I’ve done. I will do so many great things. This entire city will cheer for me.”
Bianca curled her fingers, melding them with Frances’s. “It sounds lovely.”
Frances leaned into her, coaxing her closer, “It will be.”
Bianca exhaled and smiled gently, “I must say, I never have seen anyone as dashing as you.” Frances did look gallant in the uniform. Not to mention she was rather...sweet in her enthusiasm. Bianca might not agree with this, or even like it, but she found herself gradually unable to not give in, just a little, to the other girl.
Frances beamed with pride, “I am not even wearing my cap or with my horse. Wait until you see me then.”
Bianca pressed her lips together and slowly fell forward. Her forehead gently connected with Frances’s and she breathed in the other girl, “Frances.”
“I will come home.” Frances whispered. Her excitement from before slipped away to tender quietness.
Bianca placed her free hand on Frances’s face, cupping her cheek. “Promise me you will?” Frances always did as she promised. Always.
“I promise.” Frances vowed.
“You will write to me?”
“Everyday.” Frances smirked softly, “Remember my name is Franklin now.”
“Franklin.” Bianca tested the name on her tongue. It left a bitter taste. She much preferred Frances. “You will always be Frances to me. My Frances.”
“It will only be for a short while.” the blonde said. “Then, I will be back.”
Bianca stroked her thumb over Frances’s cheekbone, “What am I to do while you are gone?”
“Write to me.” cheekily replied Frances. Then she grew serious, “Take care of Maggie. She is absolutely dreadful over James being gone. You both take care of each other, and do not worry about me. Franklin Stone is a rather handsome and brave man.”
“It is not him I worry for.” Bianca brushed the pad of her thumb down a firm jawbone, “It is for the beautiful headstrong woman before me.”
Their eyes met and connected. Bianca’s lashes fluttered as her belly tumbled with feeling. They stayed like that for minutes, neither moving lest they break the spell that descended upon them. An unknown spell that neither could name but which had surrounded them for years.
Finally, Frances mumbled, “I must be going.”
Bianca tightened their laced fingers and cupped her cheek more firmly, “I do not want to let you go.”
“I hope you never will.” Frances patted her hand, “I will return soon.”
Bianca refused to release her hand, even as Frances started to untangled them, “Not soon enough.”
“They say it will be a few months at most.” Frances soothed. “A few months and I will be home again.”
Bianca reluctantly let their hands unwind, and she dropped both her hands to her sides. She plastered a brave smile on her face as Frances put her thumb under her chin, lifting it so their eyes could meet. “A few months, Bianca. Remember, keep an eye out for a gallant soldier galloping to your door.”
“Every minute.” Bianca promised.
Frances brushed her thumb over the jut of Bianca’s chin, wordlessly memorizing her face. Bianca did the same, casting to memory all the intricacies that made Frances stand out from the rest of the world.
Then, with a sigh, she grabbed Frances’s hand and lowered it from her face, “I will miss you.”
“I already do.” Frances grinned charmingly. She took one last look and turned on her heels, marching across the porch and down the few steps to the path. Bianca watched as she stopped to pick up the few bundled items and pack she had left in the grass. With one final wave, Frances headed down the path, stepping out onto the street and walking off into the darkness.
As the figure got smaller and smaller, Bianca felt the fragile blocks she had constructed burst and the weeping sobs spilled from her lips. She covered her face, the emotions she had been so strongly holding in while speaking with Frances tumbling out like a flooding river crashing through a levee.
She collapsed against the side of the house, falling to her knees as the tears poured down her face, soaking her hands. She stayed there weeping until the sun rose, revealing an empty stretch of road.
Author: Fab_fan
Fandom: All My Children
Pairing: Frankie/Bianca
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters (just imagine if I did)
Summary: Love and Hate. Glory and Despair. Life and Death. It all began with a single shot in 1861. An AU Historical Story.
The light mist of rain pattered against the glass panes of the Montgomery home. The droplets trickled down in tiny rivers as the sky grew grey with misery. Bianca stood near the window, peering out into the cold summer day. Her face appeared in the glass, and it seemed as if the tiny specks of water were not rain but her tears, falling mercilessly from her sad brown eyes and cascading down her pale cheeks.
Bianca let out a tired sigh and raised a hand to the window. It was cool to the touch, and her palm tingled at the sensation. Her mind barely recognized the change, however. While her gaze might be fixed on the rain and the mudding road outside, it was not actually seeing it. Instead, her mind was where it had been for days. Where it continued to be no matter the time of day or night.
Her teeth bit down on her bottom lip, the soft fleshing quivering dangerously. How could Frances do such a thing? How could she...run off and join the army? Join the war? Bianca bit down harder, her mouth shaking with each question and the images they produced. She knew Frances let her imagination and heart take over many times. She had always been the one to be guided by the beauty of poetry and song. David had once called her a romantic, seeing the world through the eyes of a dreamer.
Frances’s dreams were filled with gallant horses and glory.
Bianca’s dreams were filled with blood and death.
She tried to see it like Frances did. She tried so hard. If only she could believe as Frances did, that she would return home a hero and without pain or injury. But, Bianca couldn’t. Every time she attempted to think about it, visions of Frances being mangled by a hail of bullets, her body falling to the ground, twisted in pain and suffering would play across her eyes. The charming grin that could always make her smile whenever Frances showed it to her was gone, her lips frozen in death forever unable to recite the poetry she loved to read or tease Maggie about James. That voice would never tenderly say her name. Frances was the only one who ever said her name in such a way.
Bianca closed her eyes for a moment, the sting of tears burning and threatening to fall and join the rain in her reflection. She pressed her lips together and swiftly cupped her hand over them, valiantly fighting to hold in the sob. She would not cry. Not again. She had been weeping so long it was a wonder she had any tears left inside. She hastily stepped away from the window. Her head dropped, and she inhaled deeply, banishing the images of a bleeding Frances from her brain. She couldn’t think of them anymore.
As she stepped further away from the window and toward the crackling fireplace, the memory of Frances’s declaration stormed into her thoughts without mercy.
“I did it.”
“I volunteered for the cavalry.”
Bianca’s chest ached as the words rolled around, burning their way like a disease in her body. The burn reached her chest, and it felt like the sun was wrapping its fiery arms around her heart, squeezing until it hurt beyond measure.
“Why Frances?” Bianca whimpered into the quiet. “Why are you doing this?” Her voice cracked, and she breathed in sharply.
A firm knock on the front door echoed in the house, and Bianca glanced toward it. The nightmare of a soldier waiting on the other side to tell her Frances had gotten herself killed flashed across her eyelids, but she quickly blinked and pushed the idea away. Wiping at her watery red eyes, she smoothed out her dress. Her hands quaked with barely concealed emotion as they slid across the scratchy material, and Bianca pulled them away. She clasped them together in front of her. She only needed something to hold on to to quell the shivering...to quell the fear and sadness boiling within her.
Pulling her shoulders back, she slowly made her way to the door. When she reached it and placed her hand on the doorknob, she paused. The image of a soldier passed through her brain again, and she choked out a gasp. Shaking her head, she tampered down the lump in her throat and the painful churn of her belly. Her hand yanked the door open, and she was met by a somewhat cold and wet Stone.
Bianca felt her lungs almost burst as she sucked in mouthfuls of air. Frances?
Then, she got a better look. Those eyes weren’t the same ones she had seen filled with so much excitement and vigor. That face was not glowing with prideful ideas of glory and heroism. No, she was seeing sorrowful friendship and a face pinched with grieving acceptance.
“Hello, Bianca.” Maggie greeted. The rain fell behind her off the covered porch like a mournful waterfall.
“Maggie,” Bianca swallowed thickly. She hesitantly gestured for her to come in, “step inside.”
Maggie walked in, brushing the water from her face and clothing. Bianca shut the door and spun around walking past Maggie and toward the kitchen, “W-What are you doing here? I will make you some tea, you must be cold from the rain.”
“It is rather cold out.” Maggie nodded. She watched Bianca, “Miserable even.”
Bianca didn’t turn around, keeping her gaze forward. This might not be Frances, but even the reminder of her features caused Bianca’s heart to plummet. “Yes.”
“Much like my sister has been.”
The sentence hung in the air. It reverberated across each nook and cranny, filling the tiny cracks and shooting into Bianca’s chest. Her steps faltered and she grabbed for the wall to steady herself.
“Bianca,” Maggie began.
“No, I do not want to hear it.” her heart felt like an invisible hand had fisted around it and was viciously trying to tear it from her chest.
Maggie sighed behind her, “I know you are angry with her. I am too. Furious.”
“Angry?” Bianca’s voice was muffled with emotion. “She...” her voice trailed off, unable to finish. She joined the army. She signed her own death certificate.
“Yes, angry.” Maggie said.
She was angry. She wanted to yell at Frances, shake her until she saw reason. Until she said she would not leave. But, her anger was nothing compared to the gut-wrenching pain that came with Frances being gone.
Maggie’s voice was nearer now, having taken a step closer to the brunette, “I am just as angry as you are at Frances. I have yelled at her. I have scolded her. I have said everything I can think of to change her mind. She hasn’t.”
The invisible hand tore harder at her heart.
Maggie sighed, “I might be angry with my sister, but I also do not like to see her upset, even if she has made me so with her choices.”
Upset?
“Frances is terribly upset, Bianca. She is devastated. I know you are angry. I understand. But please, you have not spoke to Frances since that day. She has not seen you.”
Her stomach clenched and her mouth turned down at the thought of Frances being upset.
“Bianca, please, I am asking you, begging you as a friend and as a sister, speak to Frances. She will be leaving soon, and she is nearly inconsolable because she believes you will never forgive her.”
Bianca swiped at her eyes and turned around, finally facing Maggie. She clenched her jaw tightly and her words trembled, “She never should have done this, Maggie.”
“I know. But, she has.”
Bianca ran a hand through her thick dark brown locks, tangling her fingers in frustration and hurt, “Why won’t she change her mind? Why does she have to do this?”
“She believes she will become some glorious hero.”
That was something Bianca both knew and feared. She ripped her hand from her hair and clenched it into a fist, “I can’t.”
Maggie narrowed her eyes, “Can’t?”
Bianca looked down at the floor, “I cannot see Frances.”
“Why ever not? She is leaving soon, Bianca!”
“I know that!” Bianca spat out. She inhaled and lowered her voice to a whisper, “I know that.” Her body wanted to see Frances. It craved to. She had never gone this long without seeing the other girl. She had never gone at all without seeing her. This past week had been torture. Her hands begged to touch that tanned skin, to feel the delicate wrist or strong fingers. Her eyes pleaded to see that lopsided smirk. Her ears wailed to hear that playful voice.
But, her mind presented her with visions she could not shake. Images of death and gore that would only amplify with the sight of Frances. No, she could not see her. If she did, she would be overcome with despair and terror.
“Bianca, please.” Maggie said. “Do not let your anger at her be the last thing the two of you have.”
Bianca peered up at her, the heartbreak in her tone palpable, “I can’t.”
For her own sanity.
***
The rain had slowed and finally came to a stop as the sun set behind the fading horizon. Bianca lay in bed, huddled under the quilts and blankets. The rest of her family was asleep, tired from their long days and hoping to get some rest before the next. Bianca, however, could not sleep. She could barely close her eyes. Her mind was spinning, its nonstop energy keeping her awake long after the moon had risen high into the sky and the last candle light flickered and snuffed out.
She gazed at the streak of white moonlight that ventured through her window and spread across her floor. The beam was a small comfort in her raging battle of emotions and thoughts currently being waged in her heart and mind.
Maggie had left empty handed. Bianca refused to see Frances. What Maggie was unable to understand was how much the idea of seeing Frances again both exhilarated and condemned Bianca. The seventeen year old had once believed that nothing had the ability to keep her from Frances, and the same held true for Frances. Nothing had the power to keep them apart. They were the best of friends. Bianca needed her in her life. Oh, how she needed her. She needed it like air. Her lungs begged to breathe, somehow not able to gain the life-giving substance they craved each and every day since she had silently stumbled away from the Hayward-Stone home. The very inkling of the idea that she would never see Frances again caused ice colder than any the north had ever experienced to coat her entire body and chill her all the way down to her soul.
But, how could she look at Frances and not think of the horrible things that were such a possibility now? How could she not imagine blood and tears? Pain and suffering? The light in those luminous eyes flickering out and extinguishing forever? How could she dull the pain and aching that resided in her very being?
Bianca turned onto her side and clutched at the pillow, pulling it further under her head and to her shoulder. Of Frances and Maggie, Frances had always been the one she was drawn to the most. She was wonderful friends with Maggie. Truly wonderful. But, with Frances, it was different. She soared at the way the twin would surprise her with delightful plans and subterfuge. It tickled her the way Frances would always have a joke or lighthearted teasing. The way Frances did not seem to worry about what others thought, even going so far as to outright defy conventional wisdom, made Bianca feel stronger somehow. No matter what, if she was with Frances, everything would be fine. They would be fine. Frances inevitably would have a plan to fix even the most ardent worry. Bianca might worry about her a lot, but Frances without fail returned to her, grinning and coaxing her into a laugh and happiness.
Frances had never really found her place in the world. It was no secret she was searching for purpose, for what she was meant to become. Maggie had her medicine and James. But, Frances did not have such a clear cut path. Bianca supported her in all her searchings and discoveries. To be honest, Bianca always imagined her becoming a poet of sorts, traveling around and reciting Shakespeare and others to whoever would listen. She even, at times, imagined herself at Frances’s side, watching with pride as her friend entertained the masses before they would depart and be alone, just the two of them enjoying life and the world.
Oh, how she had envisioned that so many times. Just as she now clung to the memories of them together. Frances, dangling from a tree branch, securing herself a hidden resting place among the leaves and sunlight. As the blonde laid along a thick branch, she would reach for Bianca, ushering her up to be alongside her. She would read from one of her books of poems, and they would gaze up through the leaves and watch the clouds roll by. Or, Frances and her would be at one of the parties the city elite held. Frances would be leaning against the wall, pointing out people to Bianca and regaling her with hilarious antidotes and mocking commentary.
Oh, why did she have to go?
Bianca rolled onto her back again.
Why was this occurring? Why did this have to be the path Frances ultimately chose? Did she not see that Bianca needed her to stay? Did she not see how much this was hurting her? How was Frances able to make a decision that would separate them?
Bianca sniffled and bit her lip. She wished to Providence and the heavens that she would be separated from Frances no more.
A click sounded.
Bianca frowned. What was that?
Another click. Followed by a rapid staccato of tappings. It was coming from the window. Bianca cautiously stood up, the floor cold on the bottoms of her feet. Her nightgown swished at her ankles as she approached the window. There was a pause as the noise stopped for a few seconds, then it picked back up again.
Peeking out into the night, Bianca felt her throat tighten at what she saw. In the blackness there was the outline of a figure. They were short and thin, the darkness of their clothing blending them in to the night air. Bianca blindly reached for a candle, the figure seeming to be so familiar, yet she dared not hope who it could be. She quickly found the metal holder for the wax source of light and lit it. She held the candle up to the window and looked out.
There, two stories below, standing on the small patch of grass and dirt between her house and the next, stood Frances. Her short blonde hair glimmered in the moonlight. Her hands fidgeted with something...the small pebbles she had been tossing at the window. When she looked up from her palm, the next rock ready to be launched at the window, her eyes found Bianca’s. Bianca felt her heart soar up to the clouds as she saw those hazel orbs for the first time in a week. Her body hummed and she felt as if wings had grown and lifted her from the ground.
Frances’s body seemed to stagger a bit. Her mouth, shining in the moonlight, curved into a relieved ghost of a grin. She dropped the pebbles and waved her hands, gesturing for Bianca to come down. Bianca quickly nodded. She had missed Frances so much. It did not matter that it was late and they should both be asleep. Or that her parents would be upset to hear she was out of the house so late at night, even if it was with that Stone girl. Frances let her arms fall to her sides as she saw the nod and eagerly bounded to the front of the house. Bianca moved away from the window to begin her own trek, when it hit her.
Frances was leaving.
This was not just the two of them venturing out because Frances had come up with some crazy plan to make Bianca smile.
Life was not as it used to be.
Bianca’s soaring heart plummeted. She stumbled a few steps, the overwhelming joy she had felt at finally seeing her friend disappearing and being replaced with the overarching fear, sadness, and worry that had been her constant companion for that week.
Frances was there, though.
Frances had come to see her.
Perhaps she had changed her mind and wanted to tell Bianca.
She held on to the idea like a drowning person clutched to a floating piece of wood. Being careful to not wake her family, Bianca crept out of her bedroom and down the hall. She tiptoed down the stairs, being watchful for the one that creaked, before finally arriving at the front door. The candle shook in her hand, the flickering flame casting uneven quirky shadows on the walls and floors. Taking a steadying breath, she opened the door.
It was cool out, the crisp air wet with the recent rain. The chirping of crickets played a peaceful background tune, and the moonlight followed to cast its glimmering glow on the porch.
At the edge of the porch, where the few steps connected the wooden landing from the dirt path that led to the road, Frances stood. Her arms hung at her sides, her hands grasping onto the cloth of her jacket nervously. Her head was bent, and she peered up through her lashes like a puppy waiting to be beckoned to its master’s side. Her eyes flashed with happiness when they saw Bianca, but it was shortly replaced with hesitancy and painful hope.
Bianca silently closed the door behind her as she fully stepped out onto the porch. She stopped and stared at Frances, basking in her presence. Her mind threatened to shower her with terrifying thoughts, but the very sight of a healthy Frances, the girl she had always known, banished them forever. She felt a lump form in her throat at the way Frances waited. She had never been so patient, always bouncing up to her with comforting familiarity.
Now, though, she waited.
Bianca swallowed past the lump and waved for Frances to come to her. Frances immediately scrambled up the stairs and to the porch, her eyes never leaving Bianca’s. When she was within arms reach, she spoke softly, “Bianca...”
Bianca choked out a watery gasp and breathed out, “Oh, I have missed you.”
Frances’s eyes lit up and she cautiously stuck out her hand. She touched the pad of her fingers to the delicate pale wrist hanging at Bianca’s side. “I missed you as well.”
Bianca smiled, “I knew you would change your mind. I knew it.”
Frances frowned, “Changed my mind?”
“Yes, about joining the army.” Bianca nodded. “To think you would run off and pretend to be a man to fight...”
“Bianca,” Frances tilted her head regretfully, “I have not changed my decision. I will not take back my choice.”
“W-What?” Bianca stammered. She jerked her wrist away from Frances’s touch.
Frances sighed, “I am going to fight.”
Bianca opened and closed her mouth, the sparkle of relief she had felt falling away. Her eyes finally dropped from Frances’s eyes and she saw it. Frances was dressed in a blue uniform. A military uniform.
“No.” Bianca shook her head, “No, no, no.” She backed away from Frances, the candle in her hands threatening to tip over, “Do not say that to me. Do not!”
Frances flinched at the harsh tone. She grasped for the candle, taking it from Bianca’s hold before she could burn herself. She set it aside and looked back at Bianca who was staring at her with so much fear and anger it knocked the air from her body.
“You cannot do this, Frances. Please, do not do this.” Bianca squinted to hold back the tears. “This is wrong.”
Frances formed her hands into fists at her side, wanting so much to touch Bianca in comfort but knowing it would not be welcomed. “I have to.”
“No, you do not! You do not have to do this, Frances! This is not what you were meant to do.” Her voice broke to the shadow of a whimper, “You were not meant to leave me.”
Frances lowered her head, the pain in Bianca’s voice like a stab to her heart. She shuffled her feet, resisting the urge to weep at her friend’s despair, “I...know you are upset with me.” Her tone broke Bianca’s heart even more with its hesitant earnestness. “I-I know you might never forgive me, though I pray you will.” Frances looked up at her, “I cannot stand it when you are upset with me. It is unbearable.”
“Oh, Frances.” Bianca whispered.
Frances pursed her lips lest her emotions take over, “I have never been able to bear you being upset with me. But, I will not desert. Not from this. I beg that you will someday understand that. Understand this is something I must do.” She took a shuddering breath. “You are angry with me, perhaps even hate me. You might never forgive me for this. But, I am leaving tonight to meet with my regiment.”
Tonight? Bianca blinked. No. Not tonight. Not this soon.
“I hope while I am away you will allow me to write to you.” Frances spoke.
Bianca felt the world crash down on her shoulders. Tonight. Frances was leaving this very night. By morning she would be gone.
And she came to see her.
Bianca folded her arms over her chest protectively and murmured, “I would never forgive you if you didn’t.”
Frances perked up at that.
Bianca dispelled the tears from her eyes, instinctively knowing how the sight of them would pain her friend. She cast a minuscule smile at Frances, “I want that more than anything, Frances. If you are to...leave...then you must write.” If Frances was not to be there with her, Bianca refused to lose her completely.
Frances grinned, “Good, because I planned on writing even if you said no.”
Bianca chuckled wetly at the statement.
Frances took a step toward her, “It will be splendid. You’ll see.” She held out her arms and winked, excitement and pride brewing in her tone, “Now tell me, have you ever seen anyone more dashing than I?”
Bianca let her gaze drop from the sparkling hazel eyes to take in the clothing covering Frances’s body. She was in blue. The dark blue wool of her coat contrasted with the light blue of her trousers. The coat had bright yellow braided along the center seam and bottom, her collar as yellow as the morning sun. It ended at her waist, and black boots adorned her feet, riding up to cover her calves. Her plain dark blue sleeves had yellow v’s braided near the wrists as well. The combination of blues and yellow was striking.
“Look.” Frances moved closer to her. She rubbed her knuckles on one of the glistening brass buttons that lined the yellow braid down the middle of her dark blue coat, “shiny as new silver.”
Bianca looked at the button. An eagle, buffed and clean, stared back at her, regal in its disposition. She counted twelve of them, tiny but strong...much like Frances. Along with the eagle there was a marked C.
“It’s for cavalry.” Frances explained, seeing the question on Bianca’s face. She puffed out her chest a little, “I shall be riding into battle.”
Bianca pulled back, not wanting to think of Frances exposing herself to war like that.
“I get a sword and a horse.” Frances enthused. “I am certain we will be the fiercest cavalry to ever be seen. We’ll ride in waving our sabres. The rebels will be so terrified they’ll retreat without even firing a shot.”
Bianca watched the excitement shine on Frances’s face. It was clear that Frances was caught up in the war and what it could be like. Bianca prayed what Frances said was true.
Frances eagerly grasped Bianca’s hand, “Imagine, a whole parade of soldiers riding through the city, the drums playing and the fifes singing. The sun illuminating us like a hand from the heavens.” She cupped Bianca’s hand between both of hers, “I’ll come home, and you will be the first person I see. I’ll ride right up to your front door. Right there.” She nodded over her shoulder at the road. “Just keep watch out that window, and soon you’ll see me galloping up.”
Bianca listened to the scenario Frances weaved so vividly. Would that be how the future would play out? It sounded so...poetic.
“It will be wonderful, you will see.” Frances squeezed her hand. “I will have so many stories of what I’ve done. I will do so many great things. This entire city will cheer for me.”
Bianca curled her fingers, melding them with Frances’s. “It sounds lovely.”
Frances leaned into her, coaxing her closer, “It will be.”
Bianca exhaled and smiled gently, “I must say, I never have seen anyone as dashing as you.” Frances did look gallant in the uniform. Not to mention she was rather...sweet in her enthusiasm. Bianca might not agree with this, or even like it, but she found herself gradually unable to not give in, just a little, to the other girl.
Frances beamed with pride, “I am not even wearing my cap or with my horse. Wait until you see me then.”
Bianca pressed her lips together and slowly fell forward. Her forehead gently connected with Frances’s and she breathed in the other girl, “Frances.”
“I will come home.” Frances whispered. Her excitement from before slipped away to tender quietness.
Bianca placed her free hand on Frances’s face, cupping her cheek. “Promise me you will?” Frances always did as she promised. Always.
“I promise.” Frances vowed.
“You will write to me?”
“Everyday.” Frances smirked softly, “Remember my name is Franklin now.”
“Franklin.” Bianca tested the name on her tongue. It left a bitter taste. She much preferred Frances. “You will always be Frances to me. My Frances.”
“It will only be for a short while.” the blonde said. “Then, I will be back.”
Bianca stroked her thumb over Frances’s cheekbone, “What am I to do while you are gone?”
“Write to me.” cheekily replied Frances. Then she grew serious, “Take care of Maggie. She is absolutely dreadful over James being gone. You both take care of each other, and do not worry about me. Franklin Stone is a rather handsome and brave man.”
“It is not him I worry for.” Bianca brushed the pad of her thumb down a firm jawbone, “It is for the beautiful headstrong woman before me.”
Their eyes met and connected. Bianca’s lashes fluttered as her belly tumbled with feeling. They stayed like that for minutes, neither moving lest they break the spell that descended upon them. An unknown spell that neither could name but which had surrounded them for years.
Finally, Frances mumbled, “I must be going.”
Bianca tightened their laced fingers and cupped her cheek more firmly, “I do not want to let you go.”
“I hope you never will.” Frances patted her hand, “I will return soon.”
Bianca refused to release her hand, even as Frances started to untangled them, “Not soon enough.”
“They say it will be a few months at most.” Frances soothed. “A few months and I will be home again.”
Bianca reluctantly let their hands unwind, and she dropped both her hands to her sides. She plastered a brave smile on her face as Frances put her thumb under her chin, lifting it so their eyes could meet. “A few months, Bianca. Remember, keep an eye out for a gallant soldier galloping to your door.”
“Every minute.” Bianca promised.
Frances brushed her thumb over the jut of Bianca’s chin, wordlessly memorizing her face. Bianca did the same, casting to memory all the intricacies that made Frances stand out from the rest of the world.
Then, with a sigh, she grabbed Frances’s hand and lowered it from her face, “I will miss you.”
“I already do.” Frances grinned charmingly. She took one last look and turned on her heels, marching across the porch and down the few steps to the path. Bianca watched as she stopped to pick up the few bundled items and pack she had left in the grass. With one final wave, Frances headed down the path, stepping out onto the street and walking off into the darkness.
As the figure got smaller and smaller, Bianca felt the fragile blocks she had constructed burst and the weeping sobs spilled from her lips. She covered her face, the emotions she had been so strongly holding in while speaking with Frances tumbling out like a flooding river crashing through a levee.
She collapsed against the side of the house, falling to her knees as the tears poured down her face, soaking her hands. She stayed there weeping until the sun rose, revealing an empty stretch of road.