All of the World (ARCHIVED & LESS BAD)

Part Nine

The sound of soft music hit Frances' ears as he woke up, nose pressed against a window pane. Keeping his eyes closed for a second more, he felt the cold glass combat the stifling warmth of his forehead. Eventually, he slowly opened his eyes, gazing at the picturesque landscape outside.

He saw a forested mountain only a few yards away, surrounded by golden fields as far as the eyes could see. A gravel and dirt driveway led away from the house, where an old red convertible was parked. Frances rolled onto his back, head sinking into the pillow. There was a certain coziness to the situation, one that made him never want to get up.

He looked at the walls, painted a gentle blue and covered with oil paintings of various landscapes. The patchwork quilt that he was wrapped in had a small songbird embroidered onto it, and he traced the edges with a finger.

Boredom and curiosity caused him to get up in search of the music, leaving through the redwood door opposite him. He walked down the carpeted hallway towards the sound. As he got closer, he could distinguish it as some sort of slow country music, rich and soothing.

He entered the room it was coming from, a study that was open to the rest of the house. A fire roared in the hearth, and there were several cats lounging around. It was absolute heaven. In fact, Frances was almost completely certain that he had died and by some miracle, gone to the Afterlife.

"Gorgeous, isn't it? Kenny Rogers. Whenever I start to hate humanity again, I just play this record, and my faith is restored." A voice said from behind him, and Frances whirled around, alarmed, startling a cat sitting on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry Frances! That was pretty stupid of me, wasn't it? My name is BoCo, and these beautiful little devils are my familiars. Quite the ragtag bunch, if I do say so myself. One of the aforementioned felines approached BoCo, and he picked it up, watching lovingly as it nestled itself into his arms.

Before Frances had the chance to think of anything to say, he heard the sound of a door opening and closing, and a couple of seconds later, a boy who looked slightly older than Frances came into the room, ruffling his dark hair. "Welcome back, Peter! Did you find anything interesting at the station?" Peter shook his head, placing a motorcycle helmet on the desk. He then noticed Frances, who was still trying to make sense of everything. "Frances? You're awake! This is great- come with me!"

He followed Peter to another room, filled with radio equipment and other strange-looking devices. "This is the 'control room'," Peter informed him, making air quotes when he announced the room's title. He sat on a chair by a large monitor, gesturing for Frances to sit beside him.

"We recently found out that by some miracle, any signal sent through gold dust can be picked up by any common radio. The messages have to be decoded though, which is why we've got the rest of this equipment." He explained, motioning to the wires connecting the machines.

"But why?" Frances asked, puzzled. Peter looked at him like he was an idiot, but answered him anyway. "To intercept any secrets, duh." "In hindsight, I probably could have figured that out," Frances admitted, embarrassed by his own slowness. Peter shrugged, flipping a switch on the monitor. "It's no big deal. You've been through hell and back this week."

Frances felt a pang of anguish, thinking about Dawn once again. "What happened after I passed out?" He asked. Peter sighed and turned to face him, his expression a mix of sympathy and hesitation. "Well, you were brought to Knapford, which is where Dennis and Jenny were able to rescue you. They took you through the Magic Buffers, which healed most of your bad injuries. That's really all that happened."

"But how'd you know I was in trouble?" Frances questioned, leaning forward slightly. Peter's eyes flickered to the door before he answered, "Edward saw you. He phoned us." Frances was astonished by the old man's bravery. "He's been in cahoots with you for the whole time?" Peter laughed at Frances' word choice and shook his head.

BoCo peeked his head into the room, gesturing for the two boys to follow him. Leaving the house, they were greeted by a small crowd of people. "How're you doing, soldier?" A brown-haired woman said, ruffling his hair with a motherly smile.

"Okay everyone, don't overwhelm the poor guy! Frances, that's Pip and Emma," Peter pointed towards the back of the group, revealing two girls who looked barely fifteen. "Hi there..." One squeaked, blushing furiously. "Over there's Murdoch and Arthur, Hank's the one in the cowboy hat, Jenny's wearing the sundress, and Flora is about to knock you over."

"I am not! Why don't you go help with supper? I don't know why anyone trusted Dennis to make anything edible." Flora hit the cowering boy with her handbag, turning back to Frances with a gentle smile. "It's so good to finally meet you, dearie. Do you embroider?" Before he could answer, she was already taking his hand and guiding him into the house, inviting the others to follow. Flora led him to a pair of armchairs, pulling a wad of handkerchiefs out of her purse.

With a needle in hand, Frances began the outline of a circle, adding a sloping line behind it. Time didn't seem to pass at all, with Kenny Rogers' crooning driving him forward. After a few hours, he set down the needle with an aching hand, staring proudly at his creation. Flora peered over his shoulder and let out a gasp of amazement. "Oh Frances, it's lovely!"

Her exclamation caused a few people to come over and look. "Did you really make that?" Emma asked, her eyes wide. Hank compared it to a Texan sunrise, and BoCo patted him on the back. "Oi, you lot! Come eat!" Frances followed Flora to the table, sitting next to her with a smile. Peter sat on his other side, showing off the potatoes he had cooked.

It had been a long time since Frances had sat down for a meal. People laughed and chatted brightly, and it felt like something out of a storybook. "How'd you like it if I washed your hair and braided it for you?" Jenny asked, showing him her own, decorated with tiny flowers. "Of course! That would be amazing!" He said excitedly, earning a small jab to the ribs from Flora.

"Between you and Emma, we'll be running a disco by Sunday!" Dennis chortled, causing all of the old people to start laughing like maniacs. Peter rolled his eyes and winked at Frances, spilling water on himself in the process. "Stop being such a clutz, Peter!" Emma complained, her Virginian accent becoming stronger with her irritation. "Be quiet, you two! BoCo is telling us something!" Flora shushed, holding up her handbag threateningly. "As I was saying, I believe this occasion deserves a toast, don't you?" BoCo suggested, raising his glass high.

"To family, friends, and some good potatoes!" Arthur cheered, glasses clinking merrily. Frances felt sore, and there was still a hole in his heart, but being around such happy people definitely lessened the load.