Francesca's Dream

Rendezvous

Francesca awoke early the next morning; Sarah and, Morrghan were still in bed. Dressed in her uniform, she slipped the red bow into her apron pocket. She walked down stairs into the kitchen where Heather was cooking breakfast. "Your up early this mornin'." Heather called from her spot at the stove. "Yeah, I wanted to get started a little earlier today, the plants were looking a little parched yesterday, so figured I would water them today." She lied. "Oh that's nice, I don't think anyone has watered them since you got here." Heather said stirring something at the stove. "So whats for breakfast this morning?" Francesca asked politely. She was in no mood to eat, today all she wanted to do was deliver some papers to the News office , check in on her friends. "Oatmeal." Heather said flatly. Ew, Heather doesn't even seem to like the idea of that for breakfast, Francesca thought to herself. "I think I am just going to skip breakfast this morning. " Francesca replied courteously. Before Heather had the chance to reply Francesca was out of the kitchen ,and on her way to get Eric's messages for the News Office.

Francesca eagerly knocked on Eric's door; he had told her to come early to receive the messages. "Come in!" He called through the door; he had just finished writing the last correspondence letter to the resistance. He was waving the letter around in the air frantically. "What are you doing?" She asked giggling slightly. "I am trying to quickly dry the ink, so that I can give it to you without it smearing. What did you think I was doing Having a crazed dance party in here?" Eric snapped. "Well you do look a little crazed at the moment, you should see yourself in the mirror; you look like a mess." Francesca blushed. 

He truly did look like a crazed mess of  man; looking at himself in the mirror. He was dressed in his navy stripped boxers, and white beater; his hair was stuck in every which way, and he was rocking a serious five-O'clock shadow from the day before. "Your right I do look like a mess; I haven't slept at all." He said bashfully "Set the letter down, it will dry soon enough. Now lets get you dressed, we wouldn't want the rest of the world to see you crazed." She said playfully. "Your right, I am going to shave, can you get my clothes out of the closet for me?" He asked kindly setting the letter down. She had never really heard Eric ask for anything, it had always come out as an order.

Eric walked into the bathroom, leaving the door open just a crack. Francesca walked over to the huge closet ,selecting a navy suit ,and tie, along with a pair of brown loafers. She laid the clothes on the bed; walked over to the bathroom and knocked. The door opened a little more; "Yeah be out in a second."Eric called. Francesca could see him, through the the steam created by the shower. He was standing at the sink, a razor grazing his cream coated jaw. His blonde hair dripping down the sides of his face. His muscled arms moist from the steam. 

She wanted to paint the setting, and gaze upon the glorious mosaic. If fear of being caught watching, she backed away from the door; finding a seat on the chair she had sat in the last time she was there. No sooner had she sat down, then the door to the bathroom had opened. Eric had a towel draped over his shoulder,"If you don't mind turning around while I change, that would be great. Or you could gaze at all of this, as it slowly disappears underneath my clothes." Eric said sarcastically. Francesca blushed several shades of red at the statement. Had he known that she had seen him in the bathroom; she thought to herself.  She walked over to the writing desk, and faced the wall. 

Francesca stood in front of the camp's main gate; a short but muscular guard stood inside of a booth next to it. Francesca walked over over to the booth. "What is your business?" He asked sternly. His eyes and face were expressionless; "I am to deliver some documents to the News Office for my employer." "And where would these documents be?" He said crossing his arms over his chest. Francesca had grabbed a spare basket from the hen house, in which she had placed the papers under a small peace of gray cloth. She lifted the cloth showing the guard the envelopes in the basket, and the leftover bread rolls she had nabbed from the kitchen that morning. "I haven't ate yet; give me the bread and I will let you in." He said smoothly . Francesca was hesitant to give her breakfast to the guard, but it had to be done. She reached into the basket; giving the guard two of the three rolls she had. 

He pushed a button inside of the booth, opening the metal gate. Francesca placed the cloth back across the basket, and entered the camp. The guard called after her "Hey, don't forget to bring food the next time you want to deliver.

Francesca walked into the busy News Office; people were busheling around everywhere. Piles of papers were stacked on each desk. Type writers were ticking away in every direction; the room smell thick of cigerette smoke. With her red bow pinned to her hair, she gazed across the room in serch of the scarcrow.
In a back cornor; sitting at a rickety old desk sat Henry.

Francesca walked over calmly trying to stay out of the way of officers and secretaries busy at work. He was surrounded by tall stackes of paper; ticking away on a typewriter. She stood looking down at him over the desk; I bring paperwork for mister Raswood, he told me to bring them here to you."
Henry stopped typing under the dim light of an over head light ,and looked up. Francesca noticed his black, almost button like eyes. "Yes, I have been expecting you. I'll take the paperwork now." He said in a matter of fact tone. Francesca rummeged inside the basket pulling out the paperwork. "What about my friends?" She said aloud. "SSSHHH! Keep you're voice down." He said in a harsh whisper. "You will get us killed if you say things loud enough. They are fine; we are working on a way to get them out now. Now leave before anyone notices you." He said before shoving the papers in a drawer, ticking away once more.

Leaving the camp, once outside the view of the guards she ran home. Her heart filled with joy that her friends were fine, and on their way to freedom.