This is serious *FRANCOIS,HEADMISTRESS*

[draven cole arrow]

Draven didn’t know what kind of a “tight ship” Waverly thought they were running, but he was absolutely livid. Why the fuck would they let a person like Francois’s dance trainer even 50 yards of the perimeter? Didn’t they check people’s credentials or something? Sure, the man had taught Francois back in France but this was a fucking spy school! Draven was sure even the kids and their parents got background checks and had to get security clearance and the like…wouldn’t they have had to do that with Francois’s trainer? How the fuck had that man cleared those procedures? The confusion was going to drive Draven mad. He was already pissed that he was sitting here having to “respect authority” when authority here seemed either corrupt or just sitting back and not really doing anything? Not to mention the fucking school was so big, he was getting lost looking for the fucking nurse’s office. He had only figured it could be in one place, and that had to be with the rest of the offices. Where in a regular school, the nurse’s office would probably be really close to the gym…but this school didn’t have a regular gym class. This school wasn’t a regular school. Just thinking about it, the whole school had to be hooked up with surveillance, didn’t it? How hadn’t they seen what had been happening to Francois every day? Draven was flustered beyond all reason. And carrying a bleeding boy in his arms didn’t really help that fact. He was nearly shoving people out of the way so they could get this all resolved. Like hell if he was just going to stand back and let it happen. He could at least get the trainer to stay off school property.

Sure that he was covered in blood and sure they had dripped it everywhere, Draven didn’t even bother to knock on the office door, moving sideways so he didn’t knock Francois into the doorway as he pushed the door open and brought them in, looking at the secretary. ”He needs the nurse and then we gotta see the headmistress. Now.”

[/color] He wasn’t going to just sit and wait for ten minutes while the headmistress finished typing something up or pouring her coffee or some shit like this. He was serious here. Though he did move to set Francois down in one of the chairs, the nurse coming out to him to look him over, bandaging what needed to be bandaged, helping him out. Draven wasn’t paying attention to that part. He had seen how the injuries had occurred, he really didn’t want to see how they were fixed up. Just so long as it happened. Truth be told, both the secretary and the nurse looked surprised to see them there. And definitely shocked to see the state that Francois was in. Draven caught a look from one of the other people in the office. Just because Draven’s knuckles were bruising up, it looked as though the person thought that Draven was the one who hit Francois. Draven sent a sharp glare their way, though shaking his head and closing his eyes, wiping his face a bit. If he wasn’t tired before, he was exhausted now. So much to cram into the rest of the fucking afternoon, no doubt. Only it wasn’t just tired…it was almost like he was just all around drained. Like someone had forgotten to charge his battery or something. Not that he had one, but you got the idea. He would be falling to sleep like a baby tonight once this meeting was all over. As soon as it was over.

Once the boys were called in to see the Headmistress, Draven stood slowly, moving his hair out his face a bit, his eyes going over to Francois. He assumed the boy was fine now, Draven not planning on carrying him all over the place, especially when the walk wasn’t that far. He moved with Francois into the room, letting Francois sit down first and then taking the other seat in front of the big desk. The office was nice – it was obvious the school had some money. Draven wondered where it all came from. He didn’t know if his mother was paying for him to go here or not when the school had said they wanted him, he just assumed that meant they were paying for it themselves. If not, maybe he could cut his mother some slack and get the hell out of this place. He knew they didn’t have the money to pay for this. Draven waited until they had the headmistress’s attention, before starting slowly. ”We need for you to do us big favor. Um…”[/color] He looked over at Francois a bit, before back at the headmistress. ”Francois’s dance teacher made…threats against Francois’s life…and beat him to bloody pulp you see here. Is there a way for you to keep him away from him? That and…apparently it goes on at his home too. Could you send someone or…I don’…know, check up on his mother? Just for to make sure she’s okay because…would pretty much make for Francois to relax a bit.”[/color] He looked down. That was probably the most he’d said in front of any adult so far. Hopefully it made sense. And hopefully Francois wasn’t mad at him. He didn’t mention himself for a reason.[/blockquote][/size]

[francois jonathon lucielle]

Francois was surprised at how fast things could go by. He was surprised at how every minute passed like a second and he was gradually losing feeling in his own body. He just wanted to rest. He was so tired, and drained; he felt as if he couldn’t move anymore, even if he wanted to. He was finally letting all his emotions take hold of his body, and oh boy, was it hard to deal with. The ones he fought so hard to shove down and keep at bay were surfacing, and at this point he didn’t know how to deal with it. How does one deal with such intense guilt that they have no control over? But, Francois being himself, always blamed himself, and this was no exception. He blamed himself for not dancing well enough. If he could have put in more effort, maybe practiced the extra hour on top of everything else he did, this whole mess could have been avoided. If he had been smarter, he could have realized his teacher had totally gone insane and got out. If he was stronger he wouldn’t have broken down so easily.

If he wasn’t Francois, than maybe Draven wouldn’t have had to get involved.

Francois was kicking himself more and more as the seconds rolled by and he curled further into himself, his mind flying from topic to topic, blame to blame; hate to hate. It wasn’t as if Francois had never outwardly told anyone he hated himself. He remembers telling one very good friend before he left for Waverly about it, but other than that he can’t recall anyone else knowing. He wasn’t sure if his mother knew. She probably did. She lived with him long enough to the point where she could figure it out. It got difficult to suppress at some times, and right now was one of them. All the boy wanted to do was curl up in a ball and pretend like he was okay; pretend like it was all okay. But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. Draven was taking him somewhere. Where? He had no idea, but he didn’t care; he wanted everything to be over and done with. He could still feel the steady beat of his heart. It was a soft murmur that caused an endless stream of crimson to fall down his arm for what seemed like forever. The boy was used to blood though. He was fashioned to it, which could be considered sad to some…but he really didn’t care. Blood was…good, in his opinion. He didn’t mind when he bled and ached, because he knew how to deal with it, he knew what he could do to protect himself and keep from falling apart. It was when other people were hurt did Francois panic. He knew Draven had bruises and gashes on his knuckles, and he didn’t want to see them. He felt guilt for that too. His eyes continued to burn as he was being carried, but for more than just one reason. The stream of liquid from his left eye had stopped before he was at the office, but he wasn’t paying attention to it anymore, his mind was everywhere else.

He felt himself being gently lowered into the seat, and instinctively his body tensed ever so lightly and his fingers began to close on the fabric of Draven’s sweatshirt. Francois was good at hiding though. He was good at concealing the things he felt and wanted, so he quickly let his hands fall into his lap as he gently sank into the chair, eyes darting to the ground as the other boy spoke. Before he could even blink there was a nurse with him. She was going around and patching him up. Disinfecting this and washing that, and the boy just let her do it. Her touch was…it was one of those gentle touches, but it was so…so meaningless to him. She only did this because she had to. She only did things that she needed to do, considering it was her job. Francois’ brain was moving a mile a minute, until suddenly a simple sentence seemed to throw him out of his train of thought. His lip began to quiver and his eyes began to search for an excuse as to ignore the woman’s request. Francois mouthed a little silently, almost out of breath to her.

“M-m-my…s-shir-rt…?” The woman nodded along with his words, but it seemed like there was nothing he could do. But he couldn’t remove the article of clothing here. No. There were too many bruises. Too many scars. He refused. He wouldn’t allow it. And then, too much of his gratitude and satisfaction, Draven was up and waiting for him. He shot out of the seat nearly, thanking the nurse quickly before following almost obediently after the boy. He moved into the headmistresses’ room and quietly took a seat at the first chair before Draven sat as well. His eyes averted away from the male and the female to his own feet. His dainty fingers began to play with each other, the boy wishing he could bring his knees to his chest to gain some type of comfort right now. He was about to open his mouth, when suddenly he heard the other male talking. He listened to him until he was finished, and the boy cringed internally. He was…he was so stupid, for dragging everyone into this. He cursed himself silently as he brought his finger to his mouth, biting on it roughly and ripping the cuticle from its base slowly. He nodded to the mistress for a moment, his eyes flying to her, than to Draven, then back to his own hand with a ping of guilt. Draven looked…upset, really.

And then a small, almostn on-existent flicker of thought raced through the boy’s head.

He should hate you. The voice was small and hushed, echoing through the dormant chambers of Francois’ mind. The boy knew what he wanted. Or at least, he thought he did. But did he want Draven to hate him? Did he want the other boy to hate him so much that he would…just disentangle himself from his life? Go away and be happy? To never come back…?

Francois said yes in his mind.

But the tremor of fear and water in his eyes told him otherwise.

[/size]

[chloe]

Elizabeth had just gotten back from some meetings in Washington DC. She had had to talk with the heads of the intelligence agencies about Waverly and some students that had graduated the previous year. The headmistress had arrived early in the morning, and had been catching up on academic stuff. To say she was tired was an understatement, but she had to prepare for the first mission of the school year. It would be starting soon. In fact, the other professors were waiting for her to arrive so they could begin. This year they had to discuss some changes in the way the missions would be handled, which was something they would be discussing in a meeting they would be holding in a little while. She was getting her papers ready when her secretary knocked on the door and peeked in. “Yes?” Elizabeth asked her, confused as to why she would walk in here looking scared. “I’m sorry to disturb you when you’re getting ready to go off to meetings. You know this, but something has happened with one of the students.” The secretary’s words made the headmistress freeze. She immediately thought the worst. One of the students got killed in one of the practices. She set her papers back on the desk and looked at her secretary. “Who was it and how did it happen?” as the headmistress asked this, she sat back down at her desk and crossed her arms. “It was Francois Lucielle. I think he got into a fight with the German boy, Draven Arrow, but I’m not sure. They want to speak to you.” The headmistress was slightly surprised at this, but relieved that no one was dead. She had no idea how she would have explained that one. “Send them in.” she told her secretary as she looked for the kids records.

When they walked in, she stood up, and motioned for the seats in front of her desk, and sat down. “What happened?” she spoke simply, and soon enough Mr. Arrow spoke. His words made her blink. She had not been expecting that. Her mind raced as his words washed over her. When he was done speaking, the headmistress picked up her phone and called her secretary’s extension. “Cancel the staff meeting.” was all she said before she hung up the phone. Turning her attention back to the students that sat in front of her, she sighed. “What do you mean by ‘dance teacher’?” she spoke each word clearly. Deliberately. She had no clue what they were talking about. Who the hell had allowed a dance teacher into the school? She had never signed any document allowing anyone that was not a full-time professor to come and teach dance. And for that person to have hurt one of her students was unacceptable. She looked at Francois and spoke again. “Who was he? I need his or her name and how to reach them.” She picked up the desk phone again and dialed the secretary’s extension. “Did you know about any dance instructor being allowed on school premises?” Elizabeth listened to her secretary’s explanation, and hung up again. “I did not authorize anyone to teach you dance. My secretary informed me that your father did send a letter, and that she didn’t answer because I was away. But that he did come here once.” She sighed, exhausted, and angry. The headmistress couldn’t believe this was happening. In her ten years working here, this had never happened. Not even once. “No one is allowed to have outside private instructors. If you had wanted someone to teach you dance, you should come to us and ask. We, meaning I or my secretary, would have gotten one for you. Next time you see that person here, or anywhere near the school, you will let me know.” As she spoke, she looked up at the students. “What’s your mother’s phone number, and why are you worried? Is she in some kind of danger?” She waited for the student to answer, her hand poised over the telephone receiver.

[francois jonathon lucielle]

It was hard to believe that Francois still had himself composed at this moment. It felt like the word seemed to be crashing down upon him and everyone he loved, but he was somehow…staying together. Normally he broke down when this happened. Normally he would fall apart and cling to some type of stuffed-animal or friend; but there were none of those around anymore. He had maybe one stuffed bear with him, and he had few friends; and he was pretty sure he had lost the one beside him as well. The first one he made. The first one he trusted; all lost for not. It tore him apart to know this. To know that he was probably going to be alone again, that Draven would probably hate him after all this was said and done…but yet there was something inside him that…that wouldn’t accept it. It was something that made him want to keep going. He didn’t care if Draven abhorred him to no end, if the boy despised every fiber of being inside Francois; he would still be there if he ever needed him. He would still be around, still existing, still breathing, too much of his dismay.

The boy was abruptly ripped from his thought process as the woman at the desk spoke up. There were so many things going on. There was her questions, and then her movements and talking and, and- Francois couldn’t keep track. His mind was in so many different places right now, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to answer her last question as she put her hand on the receiver. He spoke up in a small, hushed tone, keeping his eyes glued to the ground as he talked.

“I-I didn’t want lessons. He j-just showed up. I d-didn’t a-ask for it.” His tone still held some remnants of fear and indecision; but he couldn’t help it at this point. His mind was unraveling and he knew it, he just didn’t know how to stop it. He didn’t know where to turn for support anymore. He imagined he would have to find it in himself now. That he would have to be the hero for himself this time. His left eye began to sting for some reason he could not figure out. His eye had stopped bleeding and the nurse had examined it, and he could open it now, but he didn’t know why it was still stinging. She gave him some type of pain reliever and other things to numb it, so why was it acting up again? He let his left hand travel discretely to his eye and gently dab at it, acting as if he was scratching an itch simply. He removed his finger to see moisture gathered on the tip. Aggravated with himself he angled his hair so it completely covered that eye, letting his other one gently move up to meet the eye of the woman.

“My father is not…s-stable.” He let his eye sink back down, quickly peaking over to the sitting male beside him, before moving back to the wall on his right. He glared lightly at it before speaking up again, his tone less shaky this time.

“Can I go now.” His right hand moved onto the armrest of the chair, letting his nails gently dig into the sides lightly. He just wanted to get out at this point.

He just wanted to go back to his dorm, curl up in the bed and cry until he was exhausted enough to sleep.

He had done it before. He would do it again.

[/size]

[draven cole arrow]

When it came to how he was feeling right now, it could be summed up in one odd word: perplexed. The definition of the word was blatant enough. Full of difficulty or confusion or bewilderment. He was just…all of those. Along with upset, sure, yea, he was upset. He was upset that he couldn’t do anything other than going to someone else to help. He was upset that Francois had to put up with a hit that Draven should’ve taken just because Draven had been afraid to move the boy. Yea…afraid. As much as Draven was courageous when it came to some things, hurting people on accident wasn’t one of things that those things included. It was something he couldn’t stand. He had done it a few times in the past and he didn’t want to go back to that. It meant either emotional or physical pain, and for Francois, it would’ve been physical pain because it would’ve been a quick throw back to save the kid’s face from anymore damage. The kid was already broken in so many ways, Draven didn’t want to contribute to that at all. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he was a person who put another major dent to Francois’s already torn up body. God. Draven could be scary sometimes, but he wasn’t a complete monster. Only the people who really knew Draven knew that he could be nice…and kind of funny. But right now, he wasn’t showing any of that. Right now, someone tried to talk to him or mess with him and didn’t take him seriously, they would be regretting it for a long while, that was for damn sure. They were going to get this fucking mess straightened out right now. So of course Draven wasn’t going to even wait for the Headmistress to ask any questions. He was just going to lay it right out on the table.

As the headmistress blinked, it was very clear she didn’t even know who Draven was talking about. How the hell had that dance trainer even walked in the school then? Draven’s eyes narrowed, his hands gripping the armrests on the chair a bit. He watched her pick up her phone. Of course. The phone was probably the fucking center of everything that went on around here. She probably just signed a damn paper while she was talking on it without reading it over or something. Draven’s voice was kind of sharp, but he couldn’t help it. ”Just what I said. Dance teacher, dance instructor…someone who was pushing Francois to doing things not humanly possible.”

[/color] He acknowledged Francois with a pointed thumb his way. As she turned her attention to Francois, Draven just sat back in his seat. Right now, it didn’t seem like they were getting anywhere either. Watching her talk on the phone, he shook his head. He was pretty sure a Headmistress she was supposed to know about every single thing that went down at the school. This wasn’t very reassuring. Maybe they should’ve fired the secretary. But apparently it was all a mistake? They couldn’t afford mistakes! Well…not monetarily wise, but physically-wise. Draven grumbled a bit. ”Should be up to Francois who he wants to teach him, not his father. Now that he’s here.”[/color] Whether he was heard or not, he didn’t care. He glanced at Francois, who seemed to be trying to hide behind his hair to the best of his ability. That kind of made Draven a bit frustrated. He seemed more mad about it than Francois and Francois wasn’t trying to help himself. It just…it made Draven irritated, and he didn’t really know why. ”Of course we will.”[/color] Draven rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to do all the answering here but it looked like he would be.

As Francois seemed to have selective hearing, there were a few of the headmistress’s questions that weren’t being answered, because Draven didn’t know the answer to them. Francois could’ve been helping the headmistress, so why didn’t he give his fucking phone number? Draven’s headache from before was coming back with a vengeance. His fingers went to his temples, circling them a bit. As Francois tried to explain, Draven murmured, ”Is understatement. He’s abuser, need to leave them all alone.”[/color] He was bitter. And now he knew he was in too deep. As the boy glanced over at him, Draven narrowed his eyes a bit at him. He wasn’t upset with him, he was just confused. Why wasn’t the boy helping himself? That’s what Draven brought him here for. Draven refused to play mama. This was the most he’d said to or in front of…well, anyone, except for maybe his mom. And that was saying something. And as the boy asked if he could go, Draven stuck his arm out, pushing the boy back into the seat, his way of forcing the boy to stay, though still gentle, it got his point across. Moving his arm away a bit, he stopped at the boy’s hand, un-prying it from the chair as well, before moving to shove his hands in his pockets, slumping down a bit further in the tall backed chairs. He looked up at the headmistress through his hair, his jaw setting a bit. ”Basically wanting to make sure his mom is ok…and that this…”[/color] He nodded his head over to Francois in all his injured glory, ”…doesn’t happen again. Because I didn’t do it.”[/color] He narrowed his eyes a bit. God, even the staff thought he was heartless. They didn’t make a very big effort in making students want to stay. Or at least, that was Draven’s homesick opinion.[/blockquote][/size]

[francois jonathon lucielle]

Francois didn’t want to sit in this room any longer. He didn’t enjoy this at all. He hated talking about his family. He hated talking about his past. He hated everything right now as well, but mostly himself. He hated how he could be so weak. He hated how he could let someone control him so easily, and how he needed someone else to fight his battles for him. He needed to be in this school, and deep down he knew that. He knew he needed to learn to survive and function all on his own, it was just a matter of being taught how to. His mother used to teach him things. His mother taught him how to be strong and independent. His father taught him how to take a punch and be perfectly fine after it. His family taught him much, but he needed to be taught more. He needed someone to show him how to survive in the real world, not in sheltered places like schools and homes and everything like those. As safe as he felt in this school, he knew he was not. He knew there were people out there who wanted to hurt him, his teacher for example, but he knew there were plenty more where he came from. He knew his father would send someone else. He knew there would be hell to pay for disobeying him, and Francois needed to be prepared for it. He needed to be able to defend himself, to…to kill even, if the time ever arose. But Francois wasn’t like that. The idea of robbing someone of a life…of their entire existence…it made a tremor run through his body and Goosebumps ravage his arms. He bit deep into his lip for a moment, listening, waiting for Draven to be done, until he felt the boy’s hand on him. His one hand had kept Francois in his seat as well as preyed his nails from the wood.

Then there was something that hit his brain roughly. He said that he didn’t do it. Which meant that the Head Mistress though… that he d-did…? Francois felt his eyes narrow and settle on the woman at the desk, and as he spoke up he laced his words with careful venom.

“Don’t you dare accuse him of anything.” His mouth was open, and he was going to continue talking, but he was cut off by a knock at the door. The small nurse from before peaked her head in and gently looked around.

“Mr. Lucielle, we need you again. Excuse the interruption Mistress.” The woman gave a tired smile to the Mistress before Franny got up out of his seat. He gingerly moved through the office and door, waiting for the nurse in the middle of the room. She walked up to Francois, gave him a small smile before asking.

“May I have your wrist? We believe you have shattered a bone in it, due to the intense bruising all around.” Francois felt his eyes widen as he handed his wrist over to the woman who took with such a gentle and caring touch. He let her finger stroll over the bruise, and immediately Francois hand ricochet back as a rather loud whimper was heard from him. The pain was…it was unbearable, and it broke the lock Francois had on his emotional stability, because then the tears started pouring out. He shook his head at the woman who was talking a little fast, but Francois couldn’t hear her. He couldn’t hear much of anything. He told the woman he was sorry, unsure of which language he had just spoken in, before taking off from the office. He ran through the halls, darting left and right until he found what he wanted; the boy’s bathroom. He pushed in through the doors and walked to the sink, throwing his wrist under the coldest water he could manage. He took it out after a few moments, pacing around the bathroom before deciding to leave. He moved from the room quickly, sliding through hthe hallways before finding his dorm, nearly busting down the door and shutting it abruptly. He began pacing around the room again, running his fingers through his raven hair as he moved about. He felt fatigue finally set into his body, and at that moment he thought he would faint. He moved over next to his desk, letting his body sink down and down until it hit the ground, using the desk to lean on and the wall as support.

There was just too much to handle. There wasn’t anything left he could do.

He had to get out.

[/size]

[chloe]

The Headmistress listened to the French boy try to brush off the incident. She could tell he was still shaken up, and probably not in the best shape. She needed to look into that. And she would. She had to have his parent’s phone numbers on record. All she had to do was ask her secretary. And she would. Once they were gone she would issue an investigation. This would not happen again. She would make sure of it. She also noticed how Draven Arrow made the younger boy sit down. She could tell he cared, and was worried, as was she. And while her secretary had thought he might have had something to do with the Francois’s current physical state, she had no doubt that he did nothing to affect the other boy. In fact, he probably saved him.

Elizabeth had been a spy since she was seventeen; she had grown up training to be a spy. She was great at what she did. And she was great at reading people. It was a must in this job. It was also one of the things that had helped her become Headmistress. And as she watched the boys answer her questions and interact with each other, she could notice slight changes. Francois was desperate to leave; it was a classic sign that he was scared. The human body had the fight or flight reaction when it perceived danger. She just wanted to get to the bottom of the situation so she could help them. She sighed and shook her head. “No, you can’t.” When Draven spoke up about Francois’s father, her eyebrows shot up. She wasn’t aware that the father was an abuser, but if he had sent the dance instructor, then it was easy to see. “I’ll make sure he leaves them alone, don’t worry about that.” The headmistress nodded a bit, and spoke again. “I know you didn’t. You wouldn’t be soo worried if you had.”

When Francois’s spoke again, the Headmistress blinked. Hadn’t she just said she didn’t think he had? Not to mention he was being extremely rude to her. “I never thought he did. And you sit…” Before she could finish what she was saying the boy had stormed off. She stood up and looked at Draven. “Mr. Arrow, don’t worry about him, we’ll make sure he’s alright and nothing more happens to him. I give you my word. You can leave now.” She had too much to do right now, with calling the other boy’s parents and making sure he was properly taken care of so his wounds would heal. She walked over to the file index and started looking for Francois’s file. Elizabeth was going to call his parents, and then she was going to call some of her friends that were in France. She was going to make sure her mother was alright.

[anahi alejandra uckermann]

Crystham at RPGU