FicWad

Hey people,
Yep, another apology. About being late. Again. Jesus, I have some much work to do it is ridiculous, and I’ve had a shit ton of boy trouble and this has just been a really shit time D: I really hope you guys don’t hate me for taking so fucking long with this, and I can’t thank you all enough for your patience. I hope this chapter will make up for the wait but erm... it kinda wont XD Next chapter will though guys, I promise!
Ray xox

When Frank woke up that morning he could still taste the filth and urine from Sam’s dick in his mouth and he promptly threw up again outside the cave he had set up refuge in.

His stomach was empty of food so all that came out was some burning juices and saliva but his stomach still clenched and roiled as if it was trying to throw itself out of his mouth. Frank groaned and slumped onto his side as he cried softly into the dry earth, wishing he was back home in Jersey; wishing Gerard was with him. He wished for it so hard it hurt and for a blinding moment he felt like death was going to be his only kind option.

After he had ran out of the town Frank had just kept on running, looking about for anywhere he could go. It was just dry, scorched earth as far as the eye could see but surrounding Hangtown were some hills and Frank remembered having to travel down them to get into the town all those months ago. He had ignored the road the wagons came down and instead just climbed up the hills away from any tracks, the climb tedious and tiring but eventually he had managed to find a ledge that was fairly large with a small opening in the rock face.

Frank had crawled into the tiny opening and used his feet to kick away more chunks of rock, attacking it for hours until finally he had had enough room to lie down in and sit up in the cave, but not much more room for anything else. At least it was some sort of shelter though and that was the best Frank could hope for now.

As he lay on the ledge in the early morning sun Frank tried to calm his breathing and slow his racing heart, his mouth full of bad tastes and his stomach still swirling and clenching until he couldn’t tell whether it was sickness or hunger making it churn. He had heard shouting and seen light coming from the town all night as men searched for him with dogs and flaming torches, but they had been unsuccessful. Frank could see now though with his bird’s eye view that they had burnt down his and Gerard’s cabin, only a scorched patch of black left where it had once stood.

Frank cried more for the loss of the building. It had hardly been anything special but Gerard had built that himself and it had become a home to them both during their time in it, and now in the space of one night and one terrible mistake it was gone. Frank felt guilt attacking him like a wild beast as he beat himself up for going to the tavern. If he had just stayed in then none of this would have happened.

As he gazed down at the town through watering, tired eyes he was able to think properly about the situation he had found himself in. Last night his goal had been simple – find somewhere to hide and find it fast. Now he had it he had a whole host of other problems.

How was he supposed to continue panning? He couldn’t return to the town when the lighting was good or he’d be seen. And what about when his food ran out? What was there to eat in this wasteland other than what was brought to the town? And how was he supposed to cook at all? If he lit a fire the smoke would be seen and he’d be hunted down in minutes.

What about letters from Gerard? It would be months before he’d be due one, if the older man wrote to him at all, but if he did and one did arrive Frank wouldn’t be able to read it. And what if it was important? What if he got a crucial letter from home and he missed it? And when it came time to return home, how was he to get away?

Frank groaned and buried his head in his hands, gripping at his hair as he ached all over. He was doomed and he knew it. If he went back to the town he’d be hanged for sure, but even if he decided to call it quits and leave now, how was he supposed to get away? If he tried to get onto the next wagon out someone would be bound to recognise him and he’d be hanged. But the nearest town other than this one was too far to walk to; he’d be dead before he reached it.

Frank gripped tighter to his hair as despair washed over him in waves. He couldn’t see any way to get out of his current situation... a situation which left him with hardly any shelter, hardly any food, and nowhere to go. He wished he had left with Gerard... even if he didn’t have all the gold he wanted at least he had something, and that was better than nothing at all. But at this rate his family would never see a scrap of gold thanks to his stupidity.

Frank scuttled back into the tiny cave and lay on his side, sobbing softly. He didn’t have any water, nowhere near enough food, and this little opening in the rock face was hardly good enough to become his new home. And yet what he could do? He needed more gold, he needed to keep panning.

From up here he couldn’t hear any of the people in the town, but he could see them when he scuttled to peer down over the ledge. Tiny dots moving back and forth from their cabins to the river and to the tavern. No one in there was his friend, no one would be willing to help him. If he tried to get help he’d get marched straight to that old oak tree and killed.

Frank suddenly regretted not making any friends other than Gerard. If he had then maybe things would be different.

It was with this thought in mind that Frank collapsed back into another uneasy sleep, his body exhausted and trembling as he curled into the smallest ball he could and hid in the tiny cave. In the back of his mind he was content to hide here forever and just lie in wait to die, but fighting over that were his dreams of Gerard and the aching, burning desire to see him again.

>X<

When Frank woke up again he was for a moment disorientated, lost and frightened as he gazed about with blind eyes. It took him a second to remember where he was and what had happened, and he groaned as he wriggled out of the cave and onto the ledge to take another look around.

The sun had disappeared from the sky and stars now littered the inky expanse. There was a soft, cool breeze blowing that caressed Frank’s skin as he peered out over the town to try and figure out what was happening. Very few of the cabins had lights in the windows but the tavern was as loud and lit up as ever, even from up here Frank could hear all the noise coming from it and he sighed as he bowed his head.

So it had been about twenty four hours already since Sam had tried to...

Frank retched a little and took a deep breath to calm his churning stomach. Beneath the feeling of sickness he could feel that he was hungry but he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk eating. Though he ached to get the vile taste out of his mouth that continued to linger on his tongue.

Forcing himself to remain calm and as composed as he could Frank pulled his back towards him and rummaged through it. Old letters crumpled into the bottom as he searched for food, soon pulling out a hunk of bread and he sighed as he pushed the bag away again and settled back against the cave wall. He felt more miserable than ever as he nibbled at the bread, holding it with both hands and staring blindly at the wall opposite him.

The bread was dry and difficult to chew without anything to drink, Frank unable to work up a decent amount of saliva and he realised too late he was already badly dehydrated. He forced the bread down anyway, calming his stomach somewhat now it had something in it and the bread had managed to get rid of some of the vile taste in his mouth. But once he had finished eating he was faced with the need of finding something to do and he groaned softly.

It was pretty obvious that he was going to have to try and sneak back into the town. He couldn’t waste a single night now, especially when the moon was as full and bright as it was now. It was perfect lighting to go down to the river and start panning, but the last thing Frank wanted to do was risk getting caught by the other men in the town. He could practically feel the noose around his neck already and it made his courage desert him before it had even really gripped him.

Crawling to the ledge Frank peered down at the town, deciding he was just going to have to go for it. He couldn’t exactly sit up here forever and either way he was going to be putting his life in danger. If he sat up here he wouldn’t even last the week before dehydration, starvation and heat killed him. At least going down to the town gave him the chance to drink something and try to pan for more gold, and besides, everyone would be in the tavern as usual, as long as he was quiet and didn’t draw any attention to himself he should be fine. Gerard had always said he preferred panning at night since no one ever bothered him.

With this in mind Frank crawled back into the cave and pulled his pan and trowel from his bag. He was surprised, looking back, how he had had the foresight to grab them before he ran but he was glad he had. He felt somehow pleased that even in his blinding panic he had had enough self belief to know he’d try to keep going.

He tried to find that self belief again as he shuffled to the ledge and draped his legs over it. He hesitated for a moment, fear making his belly squirm and his body tense. He felt like he was frozen to the spot but he forced himself to ignore it, to see past his nerves and just go for it. He couldn’t lose speed now or he’d never get anywhere.

With a deep breath and a growing feeling of dread Frank slid off the side of the ledge and skidded down on some loose rocks for a moment. His heart missed a beat but he kept relatively calm so that soon enough he was able to slowly shimmy down the hill to the town. It was awkward and slow, his body moving down sideways with one hand pressed against the ground, like some sort of weird crab, but he managed to make it down as quick as he could without any incident.

Once he had though, that was where the real trouble started.

Frank found himself at the back of the town, on the opposite side of the river to the cabins. The tavern was about as far away as it could be but the noise and light coming from it was still apparent. But no one ever came up to this part of the river except during the day to pan for gold, so Frank knew the only way anyone would find him was if they came up looking for him.

That didn’t really help calm his nerves though.

Frank ignored his rumbling stomach and walked quietly to the river bank, kneeling down and bending forward to drink. He cupped his hands beneath the bubbling surface and scooped the water up to lap it from his palms. He felt shaken and frightened still but the cold water helped somewhat, washing away the rest of the taste in his mouth and wetting his dry tongue. He drank and drank until he felt full of icy water and he wiped his hands dry on his breeches before gathering up his things and starting to shovel dirt and rocks into his pan. He refused to hesitate or worry, for now he was going to concentrate completely on his panning and not stop until sunrise.

>X<

For Frank, sunrise came far too quickly.

The panning had helped him focus his mind away from the memory of what had happened with Sam, stopped him from aching for Gerard... when he panned he focused only on his task and it had felt like hardly any time had passed at all until he saw the first streaks of light starting to brighten the sky.

Due to the fact that the men always got up with the dawn to pan Frank knew he had to leave instantly, needing to be gone before people started arriving at the river. At least being on the opposite side meant he didn’t have to worry too much about leaving footprints and such behind since they wouldn’t be seen from the side with the town. Even so he scraped as much of his prints away as he could as he gathered up his things and dashed back to the base of the hill.

Frank took one last longing look behind himself, staring at the town and wondering what the people were thinking now. Was anyone wondering about him? Did they all believe Sam as he suspected they would, or was there maybe someone in there who wondered perhaps if Frank wasn’t what Sam said he was? Frank hoped so, even though it wouldn’t change anything it made him feel a little better to think that someone could think good of him. Of course, he knew they probably didn’t, he meant nothing to anyone there.

With this in mind Frank found it easier to turn away and start scrambling his way back up the hill to the little ledge and cave that was going to have to become his home. His stomach was cramping and grumbling with hunger but he tried to ignore it. He only had a little bread to last him for however long and he couldn’t afford to eat any until he was on the brink of passing out, he decided. He would have to find some more food sooner or later, he knew that, but at that moment he was too exhausted to think about it so once he reached the ledge he collapsed down and had just enough strength to drag his aching body into the little opening in the rock face before he fell into a deep, restless sleep.
>X<

The week that followed was very much the same.

The nights were a monotonous repeat of the night before, Frank going down to the river as soon as it was clear of people and panning all night long. He even went down there when there was no light from the moon, refusing to sit up all night wasting time. He had been unable to see enough really, and he knew he had probably lost half the gold he would have noticed in better lighting conditions but half gold was better than no gold.

The days he spent sleeping in the tiny cave, feeling claustrophobic and more homesick than ever. His body was weak with starvation and dehydration, surviving only on the tiniest bite of bread a day and then guzzling down as much water as he could when he went panning. Sleeping was easy since he felt constantly on the brink of passing out anyway, but he soldiered on anyway. He refused to be defeated, he refused to give up.

By the time the end of the first week came Frank finished the last of his bread as he watched the men in the town walking to the tavern. His body clock was slowly flipping itself, turning him into some sort of nocturnal being, and he felt eager to get down to the river and start panning.

As soon as the river was free of people and Frank felt certain no one would be returning to it he made his way slowly down the hill to the part of the river bank he had claimed as his own now. Making his way down the gravelly slope had gotten easier the more he did it, and it took him no time at all to reach the bottom without injuring himself.

Once he was at the river Frank sighed and began filling his pan with gravel. The problematic thing was, he had no way to weigh his gold and so though he had filled all the bottles he had brought with him, he had no idea whether that was close enough to how much he needed. He supposed he was just going to have to estimate how much he was earning, but he couldn’t think straight when he was wasting away.

Frank pushed that out of mind for now though, allowing himself to get lost in the action of panning again. Sleep was full of nightmares of Sam, panning was the only escape for Frank now.

He smiled a little as he shook the pan gently under the flowing water, working by the light of the moon and ignoring the pain in his back as he hunched over the river. He didn’t think about Sam or how his skin still crawled at the thought of him, he didn’t think about Gerard or the way his heart broke as he remembered him leaving; he didn’t think about home or how it made him want to die considering never returning there. He thought only of the gold he needed and of his panning technique as he shook the pan beneath the water.

For a few hours Frank was oblivious to the world around him, focussing only on the panning and the soft gushing of the river water. He felt almost happy in that moment, serene. For a moment, no one could hurt him... for a moment, things were going to be okay...

But the moment ended.

“Frank?”

Shock smashed through Frank’s chest like a boulder, causing him to jolt in surprise and drop his pan into the water. With a squeak of horror he grabbed it back, dragging it into his hands and staring in horror at the man looking at him from across the river.

The man was fairly tall, middle aged, strong... his eyes were wide with shock but not unfriendly, his lips parted in surprise.

“Frank, what are you doing here?” Ben started forward, as if he was going to try and cross the river but then he thought better of it and frowned at Frank. “You shouldn’t be here. If someone sees you...”

“Please don’t tell anyone.” Frank suddenly gasped, finally finding his voice and he clutched his pan to his chest as he stumbled backwards. “Please I just... I –”

“I won’t tell anyone.” Ben said quickly, cutting Frank off and making the younger man clamp his lips shut. Ben gazed at him for a long moment, his heart racing in the shock of seeing the younger man. The news going round the town was that Frank had tried to force himself on Sam and that when he had pushed him away Frank had fled. Ben hadn’t been sure whether to believe it or not; he didn’t really know Frank but he had been fond of Gerard and he knew he and Frank had been good friends.

“What happened to you?” He breathed, leaning forward to speak to him but Frank jolted in fear and backed away further, Ben holding his hands up to try and relax him. “Please, don’t be frightened! I won’t cross the river, I promise.” His words genuine but Frank only looked even more terrified. “Did you force yourself on Sam?” Ben continued, tears glistening in Frank’s eyes at that. “What happened Frank?”

“I never... I never...” Frank whimpered, fear making him feel sick and Ben could see he was considering running.

“Frank please, I want to help you – please just talk to me. Do you come here every night? Where are you staying?” Ben asked as gently as he could, holding his hand out towards Frank from across the river but the younger mans nerves finally deserted him and he turned and ran before Ben could utter another word.

>X<

Frank was shaking as he lay in the cave, tears streaking down his cheeks. He didn’t know whether the fact that Ben had seen him meant he needed to leave now or not, but he did know that if he didn’t calm down soon he was going to give himself a heart attack.

He hadn’t been prepared to see anyone; he had been lost in his own little world and when Ben had suddenly been there infront of him he had simply panicked. The only thing he knew about the man was that he worked in the little food store in the town, and that Gerard seemed to think he wasn’t a bad guy. For all he knew Ben could have been wanting to help him; but what if he hadn’t? What if he was in the tavern right now, spreading the news that Frank was coming to the river at night? It would destroy everything.

Frank whined softly into his hands and curled up into a ball. He had no more food, no more energy, no more anything. The urge to give up was stronger than ever and yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it; couldn’t bring himself to admit defeat and try to leave. He needed to get the gold he had promised his family, he needed to see Gerard again.

“God help me...” He breathed, sobbing softly as he shook on the floor.

>X<

For three days and nights Frank didn’t return to the river. He barely moved at all. He lay in the cave and stared with dull eyes at the bottles of gold he had lined up at the back. He tried to guess how much he had earned. He knew he was close to getting the amount he needed, but he wasn’t convinced he was quite there yet.

With nothing to eat or drink he could feel his body starting to consume itself. His stomach had stopped rumbling and was now permanently cramped up and hurting, his head was constantly aching from dehydration and no matter what he did he couldn’t stop shaking. He knew he needed to find something to eat soon, and if nothing else at least go to the river and drink, but he was too afraid to go back there. He was convinced that the rest of the townspeople would be there waiting for him. That Ben had sold him out and that they were all sat up in the night waiting for him to return.

By the fourth morning though Frank knew he couldn’t put off returning to the river any longer.

He was sleeping a lot, too much. He was starting to feel like if he slept he wouldn’t wake up and so he forced himself to sit up and stay awake. But even just moving into a sitting position seemed to drain his energy and so for a long while he simply closed his eyes and rested against the cave wall. He knew if he kept this up it would kill him, and quickly too. His only choice was to go back to the river and get a drink and hopefully some sort of food and then consider going home. Or simply die. And well... he didn’t really want to die.

Frank forced his eyes open and looked at the bottles of gold again, wondering if he should pan all night if he could and then leave. Well... there was no point sitting around, he reasoned. Besides, he couldn’t just hop on a wagon and leave, he would need to somehow get to the next town. And God only knew how far that was. He simply didn’t have the strength to leave yet, and so whilst he had to stay he should make the most of it.

Frank waited until evening before he moved, gathering up his panning things and forcing himself to move out of the cave. His head was spinning but it had been doing it for a while now so he just ignored it. It was earlier than when he usually went down to the river but he had lost all caring now. If someone was there then he’d just deal with it. Hell, he felt almost hopeful that someone would be there to take him to the oak tree and hang him. He’d probably be dead before they even got the noose around his neck anyway.

Weak and tired Frank pretty much tumbled down the hill, reaching the bottom slowly and even then getting covered in cuts and bruises as he went. He barely noticed though, he was like a zombie. He had no life left in him, no more purpose; he was just a corpse on someone else’s strings.

As he approached the river bank Frank was oblivious to the noise of the river or the things around him. Part of him just wanted to throw his pan down and give up now. He didn’t have the energy to pan. He didn’t even have the energy to stoop down and try to drink from the river. Though he was thirsty, so thirsty.

Frank threw down his things and collapsed to his knees at the riverbank, practically collapsing face first into the water and he squeezed is eyes shut as he plunged his entire face into the cold liquid. The numbing water seemed to shock some life back into him, making him shiver and plant his hands against the river bed as he opened his mouth.

As soon as the first drops gushed over his tongue he remembered the burning need to drink and he gulped hungrily at the water, sucking at it as he pushed his face deeper, gulping down as much as he could before he pushed upwards, arching his spine and throwing his head back with a sudden spray of water droplets as he gasped harshly. His throat was burning from the sensation of being wet again and he collapsed onto his front, shaking and whimpering as he cupped his hands under the water and lapped eagerly at it with his tongue, sucking and slurping until his belly felt frozen from all the water sloshing about inside it and he slowly moved away, collapsing onto his side and closing his eyes shut as he panted.

His hands and face were dripping wet, his chest heaving. The water felt good, his throat still rippling as if to swallow more. After not having drank in so long when he had had his head under the water, when he had been able to swallow some of that delicious liquid, it had been better than anything he had ever felt. Almost orgasmic in its pleasure but now he just felt exhausted again, and cold too.

For a long moment Frank was still, lying until he could feel himself falling asleep and he forced himself to sit up again. His hunger pangs were stronger now, his body crying out for food now it had been satisfied of its need for water and Frank wondered about maybe eating the grass. It was pretty much the only option he had.

A small gust of wind blew and made Frank shiver more, cold water dripping out of his hair and down his back, and as he sat, shivering and shaking the most wonderful scent assaulted his senses.

It was very faint, and so wonderful that Frank was certain he must be imagining it. It was the smell of a simple stew, he knew its aroma from the amount of times he and Gerard had cooked it in their cabin. The smell made his mouth water and his stomach growl and twist itself up into knots. Oh God... it smelt so real, like it could be right there in front of him and he felt close to tears with his desire to taste it.

With hungry, desperate eyes Frank peered about in the hopes it might magically present itself. And to his great shock, there was something not too far away.

Some feet away from him there was something that looked suspiciously like a cooking pot. Only a very tiny one, enough for one or maybe two people, but a cooking pot none the less. Frank blinked stupidly for a minute, rubbed his fists vigorously over his eyes, and then looked again.

It was still there.

Frank was so hungry he didn’t sit around to try and decipher what was going on, he simply took what appeared to be a miracle from God, and he as he crawled quickly over to the stew pot he only prayed it wasn’t some sort of hunger induced mirage and that when he tried to eat the food inside it would turn out to be but a cruel, senseless joke from his mind and the whole thing would disappear as if made from smoke.

Frank settled down with his legs crossed infront of the stew pot, his lips parted in shock and his eyes roaming about to see if anyone was around. Once he was certain he was completely alone he looked back at the pot, the black vessel settled down in a nest of warm wood. The wood had clearly been lit on fire but not a very big one, just enough for warmth but not enough to create much smoke or light. It had been put out quickly too so that the wood simply smouldered, leaving it mostly just tinged with black and not completely charred. Whoever had put this here had been intending for it to sit for a while it seemed, and had not wanted for it to get cold.

Frank wondered who had left it there, and if they were going to be coming back any time soon for it. He wasn’t going to wait around to find out though, he was starving and he needed the food. He pulled the lid from the pot and blinked stupidly at a little spoon beside it. This seemed just too convenient, and he realised with a jolt that maybe someone had left it there for him... that maybe... Ben had left it there for him.

Frank looked about in shock again, as if he would spot Ben waiting for him, but of course he was alone. His heart was beating faster now though as his mind whirred with all the possibilities to why this food was here and he blushed as he pulled the stew pot closer and began to tuck in. He thought fleetingly, as he raised the spoon to his mouth, that for all he knew this food could be poisoned. But then he decided he simply didn’t care and continued anyway.

As he pushed the spoon into his mouth and got the first taste of the stew Frank felt as if he could sob he was so happy. It was simple and bland but in his hunger it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted and he mewled as he began to shovel the stew into his mouth as quick as he could; wolfing down the meal in his starvation.

It didn’t take long for Frank to feel full, his stomach cramping from the sudden onslaught of food but Frank had never felt happier. He carried the pot with him to the edge of the river so that he could continue eating as he worked, refusing to wait a single morsel. He was certain by now that it was Ben who had left this for him, and he felt choked up with gratitude. The food had returned some of his strength, but mostly it had helped him mentally. Though his body was still weak and sluggish he worked hard that night, panning without complaint and slowly eating the final half of the stew as he thought of how lucky he was to have this. How good it felt to finally be working again. He knew now for sure that the best thing he could do was just keep panning at night. It gave him purpose and he needed purpose to survive.

>X<

Ben smiled as he finished making the stew and put the lid on the pot. He wrapped his hands in a dry cloth to lift the pot out of the fire and place it down in a towel to wrap it up for the trip to the river. It was early evening and everyone had left the river. It would only be a matter of minutes before men started making their way to the tavern so he had to be quick, or else he’d be seen.

Ben had learnt how to time things perfectly now so that he could get to the river with food for Frank in the tiny gap of the day when all men were either getting changed in their cabins or washing down at the bottom of the river. He knew that Frank didn’t come down to the river until later in the evening, and sometimes he considered waiting for him to try and talk to him again... but the first few nights he had left food out Frank hadn’t eaten it, and he didn’t want to frighten the poor man again and make him stop coming.

Ben had been taking food to the river every evening for two weeks now, and every morning he would go extra early to retrieve the pot or plate he had brought the food on. There would never be a single scrap of food left and so he knew that it was the only food Frank was getting. He was deeply worried for the young man, wondered where he was staying and if he was okay. But he didn’t want to startle him so he kept his distance, simply taking the food before he arrived and coming back for what was left once he was gone again. He felt somewhat like a guardian angel and it made him happy, he liked to have a purpose. He liked to think that he was helping an innocent.

Ben knew that Sam was not a good guy and after seeing Frank so frightened by the river that night he had decided he simply couldn’t believe the lies Sam was spreading. Clearly whatever had happened between Frank and Sam had left the younger man petrified and so he felt a sort of protectiveness over him; a desire to make sure he was alright.

Ben smiled to himself as he slipped out of his cabin to take the stew to the river. He looked about to make sure no one was watching him before he started making his way through the town, keeping his head high and trying to look as casual as he could whilst holding the stew pot wrapped in the towel. No one was around though, and he made it to the river in good time without being seen.

Or so he thought.

Watching from behind one of the cabins Sam was idly smoking a pipe, frowning at the sight of Ben wandering to the river with some sort of bundle. He quirked an eyebrow and moved closer to see what was happening, but Ben disappeared from view before Sam could catch sight of him again.

Confused Sam stood in the middle of the path, his pipe dangling between his lips and his eyebrows raised in utter confusion. He stood there for a good five minutes before turning to leave, deciding to just forget about it but then he saw Ben making his way back... but this time the bundle was gone.