Title: Slipping Through the Cracks
Author: Harper Kingsley
Character: Franz Caulder/Ryan Wilder, Dr. Pamela Werth, Nicole Carson
Genre: mm
Rating: mature
Summary: Kid Nitro went to sleep in his own bed, and woke up on another Earth in the body of an alternate Franz Caulder. It’s a world without metabilities, which is jarring enough, but it’s also a world where Other-Franz is a mental patient grappling with some serious problems.
Leave a comment at the “Hop Against Homophobia and Transphobia” post and receive a PDF copy of the complete story after the hop.
***
He approached Dr. Werth. “Is Nicole all right?” She hadn’t been at breakfast and he couldn’t help being concerned.
Dr. Werth looked at him for a long moment, then sighed. “Come with me.” She led him toward her office and closed the door behind them. “Joshua told me that you woke up last night. I just want you to know that Nicole is stable and it looks like she’s going to be okay.”
“She cut herself.”
“Yes. It was a near thing, but the nurses got to her in time,” she said.
“Where is she?” Franz asked.
“She’s been transferred to another facility for care, but she’ll be back with us later. I don’t know how long it’s going to be, but it wasn’t as bad as it seemed last night.”
Franz clasped his hands around his elbows. “I didn’t really see a whole lot. I was just worried because she wasn’t here this morning.”
“Well. You don’t need to worry any longer. Once it’s safe for her to be brought back, she’ll be here.”
“Was it her new medication?” Franz asked. “She made a big deal about how she was on some new stuff and she was acting kind of erratic at the time.” He tried to sound like it was no big deal, but he couldn’t help the anxiety that went through him. Maybe if he’d said something she wouldn’t have been given the time to hurt herself.
Dr. Werth seemed to read his mind. “It may have been exacerbated by her medication, but Nicole has been dealing with many different issues. You are not responsible for anything. Do you believe me?”
She was looking at him and her gaze was so warm and caring that he could almost *feel* it. He stared down at his feet to try and get away from her eyes. “I might need some time,” he admitted.
“That’s perfectly natural. Just remember that what Nicole did has nothing to do with you, okay? If there’s anything you need to talk about that can’t wait until our session tomorrow, I have a little time right now.”
He shook his head and drifted backward toward the door. “I’m good.”
He escaped her office and hurried toward arts and crafts. He wasn’t looking to expose his feelings at the moment, if ever.
* * *
The days passed one after the other until Dr. Werth let him know that his mother’s visit had been arranged. He was finally going to get a chance to see her.
It was strange to anticipate something so impossible, but he couldn’t resist. The idea of meeting his mother had always been one he’d toyed with. A fantasy about what his life might have been like if she or his father had never died.
He’d never imagined anything like this though. The idea of alternate realities had always been a bit of a joke; it wasn’t ever supposed to happen. Not to him.
Franz fought to keep his perspective, but he couldn’t help the excitement that flooded through him at the idea of meeting his mom.
On the day of her visit he showered and shaved and tried to make himself look at least slightly put together. He didn’t have a wide range of styling products and his hair was in desperate need of the clippers, but he had deodorant and toothpaste so at least he wasn’t smelly.
He pulled on the newest looking pair of scrub pants he could find and a white tee shirt. He pulled his sweatshirt over his head and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He thought he looked all right. It was the best he could manage with the clothing he had available. It wasn’t like she didn’t know he was a patient here.
Franz was sitting at the table waiting when she appeared in the doorway. He couldn’t help his gasp.
She looked like the woman in the photographs he had, though years older. Her long hair hung straight down her back, streaks of gray trailing through the glossy black. She was short and dressed in clothes that looked a few years out of style, but flattered her figure. She was his mother.
He licked his lips and stood up without pushing his chair all the way out. He gripped the edge of the table with his hands to still their shaking. “You’re here.”
She smiled at him and her tired face was suddenly beautiful. Life had treated her hard, but she was still enjoying her life. “I’ve been waiting for you to be ready to see me. Of course I’m here.” She sat down across from him at the table.
“Where’s your purse?” he asked. She always carried one around, a roomy leather thing that smelled of mint gum.
“They wouldn’t let me bring it in. They were worried I might bake a file into a cupcake for you.” She rolled her eyes humorously.
Harper Kingsley
Ko-fi: HarperWCK
Paypal: HarperKingsley
Franz gazed at her in fascination. She was so alive and present. He felt like holding onto this moment forever. He settled down on his chair. “I wasn’t ready to see you before. I’m ready now.”
“That’s good. How are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m better,” he said.
It felt awkward, yet strangely comfortable at the same time. He felt as though he could say anything he wanted to her and she would take it in stride. She refused to let anything throw her.
The shape of her face was familiar. The sound of her voice was soothing. And at the end of her visit he couldn’t resist reaching out to touch her hand, and a whiff of that sweet smelling lotion she always used reached his nose.
He was small and scared and the gag in his mouth was all slobbery and gross because he couldn’t stop chewing on it. His face hurt really bad.
Frank was at the stove heating the knife blade over the gas flame. He was saying things–awful things–that made Franzy’s ears hurt to hear. Things about Mommy and Daddy and Franzy, though he never said Franzy’s name, just called him “brat.”
Mommy was going to be really mad when she found out what Frank had done. She’d never noticed the little hurts, but she was going to notice that his face was all cut and burned.
He wondered if Frank was going to kill him.
Franzy jerked at the ropes tying his wrists to the chair arms, but they were too tight and he wasn’t strong enough.
Frank’s smile when he turned would have made Franzy wet his pants if he hadn’t already emptied his bladder earlier. “It’s always good to label things correctly.”
The knife blade was gigantic, the edge still glowing red as Frank carried it across the room. Franzy squeezed his eyes tight shut, not wanting to see, but he *had to* see so he opened his eyes back up. He couldn’t let that knife out of his sight or it would kill him.
He screamed when his face flared with lines of pain and he could hear the sizzle as he was burned. He screamed and screamed and no one heard him and he began to think he was going to hurt forever.
There was a sudden banshee scream and the knife slipped as Frank turned. “Sophia?”
Mommy was there and her face was twisted up in a way Franzy had never seen. Her eyes were white-rimmed and her teeth were bared, and she plowed into Frank and knocked him away from Franzy.
There was a torrent of profanity coming from her mouth as she punched, kicked and clawed at Frank with an inhuman strength.
Franzy slumped in his bonds and cried. Mommy had heard him. Mommy had come to save him.
“You killed him. You killed Frank,” he rasped. His throat felt as though he’d been screaming for hours.
Sophia gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “You remember?”
“Of course I remember. I don’t think there was ever a day that I could forget that my mother killed my stepfather.”
Because he wasn’t Franz Caulder. He was Franz Benoit. He always had been.
TBC…
[table “24” not found /]
Check out the rest of the hop and all the excellent people that have offered up some great posts and prizes. Spread the word: No more homophobia or transphobia. Equality for everyone.
