Gone, Gone, Gone Away -- open

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"You've gone, gone, gone away, I watched you dissapear. All that's left is a ghost of you."

At least those were the lyrics Fabian thought he remembered. Some muggle band, he assumed. Either way his healer still shot him a withering glare at the words. He saluted her with his hand, well if he could have, it had vanished. He gave her his most charming grin as she huffed, rolled her eyes, and walked away. As much as it sucked being stuck in Mungo's, this vanishing sickness was useful for quite a few jokes. At least he was only stuck here for a couple more weeks.

Fabian whistled the song again and laughed to himself. The words were just too perfect. He'd have to give the bird that sang them a nice little thank you gift- if he would ever be bothered to look for her. Still, he sang those few lyrics nonstop and it was driving his healer insane. Well, his second healer, the first one quit. He wondered why, all old Fabian had done was walk around the halls after a shower and asked if his little buddy was still there. It wasn't as if he ended up in their office or anything... oh, wait...

the redheaded sighed and looked at his scratched watch. It was around noon. He had been in here for five weeks and stuck for four more. He wasn't even aloud to have exciting nights with the witches due to his dissease being contagious. His head fell back onto the crisp white pillow. He really did not like this other than the jokes. He needed to be out there, the Order needed him. He glared at the hand he couldn't see.

Another thing that had been getting him were the mood swings. The healers told him it was because he was sick. He glared at the room. Bloody dissease, bloody war, bloody Voldemort, bloody hospital, bloody late lunches. He put on a rather over done pout and folded his arms. In the distance he heard the witch sigh in exasperation. He smirked, he wondered if she would let him kiss her if he played the right cards. At the thought his middle finger slowly dissapeared. He glanced down at his favorite finger that was no longer there. "F*ck."

(Lyrics from Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men)

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Frank tried to be a good friend, being a good fried as well as being a noble occupation was also damn good fun especially if your friends included the ever amusing Prewett brothers. It was in this spirit that Frank bounded up the stairs to see... Well if there was any of him left to see, good old Fabian, poor old Fabian, ironic really that someone so blatantly present should contract a disease causing him to vanish, it would be more appropriate for a shrinking violet.

It was also highly frustrating having Fabian locked up in here when he was clearly needed on the outside world, a frustration Frank felt was probably felt most keenly by Fabian himself. Dressed still in his auror robes, now fully earned having past his final examination last week, he attempted to maintain an appearance of calm dignity worthy of them. Dignity was not a natural state for Frank and the large muddy boot prints trailing behind him was earning more than one piercing look of disapproval that in his nonobservance he completely failed to notice.

Finally locating the right ward, he swung the door open and gazed about looking for the fellow Gryffindor alumni, he head him before he saw him. Good old potty mouth. "Fabs!"The loud utterance caused more stern looks that Frank was sadly immune to, growing up with Mrs Longbottom for a mother could make anyone immune to stern looks.

Blithely crossing the room he dumped a cloth bag of goodies on the bedside table and pulled up a chair ignoring the obnoxious squeel the legs made. "The birds send their good wishes" The birds were of course the order although Frank felt little doubt that Fabian probably also had many other pretty little birds waiting for his return to the outside world. "So how's it going, glad there's still some of you left? Will you be getting out soon or are you having to much fun causing malarky in here?"