Firstly, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind reviews. I honestly didn't think that what started as a funny little short story would end up being so well-liked. So, due to popular demand and my own mind demanding that I continue what I started, here is the sequel to Where You Go To Be Forgotten.

Please keep in mind that this story spans a few months, starting right where Where You Go left off. So I don't want to get any flames saying "OMG, u totally mad them freinds in lik teh 1st day!" First issue with this: USE GRAMMAR! YOU GO TO SCHOOL TO LEARN THIS SORT OF THING! USE IT, FOR GODSAKE! Second issue with this: No, I did NOT make them friends in one day. I made them create an uneasy sort of 'alliance' where they try not to drive each other up the wall, and it developed over a pretty decent amount of time. So if you bug me about this, I will smack you upside the head with a baseball bat (rhetorically).

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hellboy, or any characters related to the franchise. They are property of Mike Mig-whatever. Except for Bree and Alison. Those two are mine... sadly.

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Tales From the Freezer, Episode I

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Everything In It's Corner

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They knew that Nuada knew that they knew that he was out. It was pretty obvious. The door to his friggin' cell was open, for Cri-yi, as Alison put it. Bree wanted to make sure he wasn't hiding in her bathroom. John wanted to make sure that he wasn't looking for weapons of mass destruction. Alison thought that if Bree had closed the door like she was supposed to, they wouldn't be in this situation. Bree responded by smacking her upside the head, which resulted in a cat fight on the floor.

Things of this nature no longer held any amusement for John. He got bored with it after the twentieth time.

"Will you two please behave like you're adults?" he sighed. Neither of the girls answered. They were too busy rolling on the floor and calling each other "BITCH!" to pay attention to him. He rolled his eyes and went to get his tasers.

…

John was drinking some hot chocolate at the kitchen table and reading a mystery novel when Alison came in and sat down next to him. Her hair was in a state of disarray, she had a bloody lip, and her arms were bruised, but she was grinning triumphantly.

John took a sip of his hot chocolate. "I take it you won?"

"Like a card counter."

John frowned. "What? That doesn't make sense."

Bree entered the room. She was sporting a black eye but she was trying to save face, so she didn't get ice or something to put on it. Her shirt was also ripped, but again, she refused to change it. It was a matter of pride, she told herself. Not that she had anything to wear anyway. Three months earlier, John had dared her to not wash any clothes until she was down to her last outfit. Not only was she obligated to do it because of the dare, but it was a great excuse to not do laundry. In her mind at least. Now she just didn't want to have to deal with the laundry. Three months of dirty clothes is a bit intimidating. But to her fellow base-mates, the smell was enough to scare anyone.

"Bree, you should really wash your clothes now," John gesturing to her torn shirt.

"No," Bree sulked in her chair and glowered at Alison, who maturely stuck her tongue out at her.

"Seriously, you won the dare, you get a week of no chores, so please go wash your clothes. The smell is coming into the hallway. I'm going to have to order air fresheners if you don't do something. I really don't want to have to do that. You know how much they cost?"

"Well, if I get a week of no chores, shouldn't you two wash them?" Bree snapped waspishly.

John put down his drink and looked her straight in the eyes. "If you think for one second that I am going anywhere near your clothes…"

Something slammed somewhere in the Freezer. The three fell silent. John took another sip of his hot chocolate. Alison got up to get herself some. Bree shook her head. "We need to do something."

Alison came back with her own cup. "Like what?"

"We need to trap him and stick him back in his cell."

"No," John shook his head. "I've read all about him and that restraining collar. Just let him be."

"Why?" demanded Bree.

"Because he can't hurt us. He can't use magic. He can't open up any of the areas with restricted access. And if he comes after us trying to get to restricted access, he'll be disappointed."

Alison and Bree exchanged sideways glances. "Why would he be disappointed?" Alison said nervously.

"Because none of us know the passwords or anything."

"Oh…"

John sighed and stood up. As he took his mug to the sink to rinse it out, he said the girls "Don't you two have something to do? Laundry, perhaps?"

So the two grumbled and got up.

….

Nuada was not interested in the humans. They were beneath his interest. He didn't care about them. They were bumbling, insignificant worms who were of no use to anyone anywhere. That's why they were dumped here. Nuada didn't care about them. He wanted to get out. He wanted revenge. He wanted death.

But mostly he wanted to get the stupid collar off him so that he could get the revenge. It was a little hard to try and kill people when every time you thought about it, iron (which was poison to the Fae) was shot into your bloodstream. Oh, not enough to kill him. That would just be barbaric. Imprisonment, starvation, and lack of medical attention was much more civilized.

The fallen prince couldn't do anything about it though. He was unable to pry it off since that also resulted in poisoning. He could try and find a way to pry it off because if he found one it would just torment him because he wouldn't be able to take it off himself, and there was certainly no one around who would take it off. The thought had come to him briefly that he could always threaten one of the humans to do it, but they'd probably call his bluff. And since his imprisonment, most likely none of his supporters were interested in looking for him. He could only assume that his sister was trying to take the kingdom under her control. The thought made him chortle in mirth.

Her? Trying to take care of their people?

She was an idiot. She was born an idiot, she lived an idiot, but now she would die an idiot and a failure.

The bitterness and anger burned him. He wanted to keep his people safe. He wanted to keep his people alive. Was that such a crime? The humans would get nothing less than what they deserved. Was it so terrible that he wanted vengeance for his dying race? Was that such a condemnable reaction? He had nothing in front of him; an eternity of seeing his blood, his relatives, the ones he loved slowly die off and perish, leaving only the traces of them behind. He was alone here, and he would die alone. He had nothing to live for. He had no goal. He had no hope.

Nuada did nothing for many days. He sat in a cold corner of the fortress, letting it all sink in until it permeated his every molecule, until the hate and despair became a part of him almost as much as his own skin. And when he could no longer sit, he stood and walked.

He walked all over the base, cold and quiet as a ghost, his while hair floating behind him on a non-existent breeze. He did not speak, he did not look anywhere but ahead, and he was no longer alive.

…

Alison saw him for the first time when she was heading to her garden. Since it was hard to get food up to the base in time for things like fruits and vegetables, they usually received canned fruits and vegetables. Which was just disgusting. So they had been told of a machine (well, not a machine so much as a device) that could turn metal to earth. So Alison, Bree, and John had spent nearly three months looking for the perfect place to use it. John had discovered it though.

It was a great big, gigantic, huge room with enormous lights overhead. There was nothing in there and it was easy to get to. So they had used it there. They piled up all the useless junk they had, which had been a lot, and turned the device on. Immediately, the floor had been covered in a rich loam, perfect for growing things. The three of them had planted a whole bunch of stuff, taking great delight in it all. They didn't use pesticides (they had no pests up there) or growth things, or anything like that. It was all natural. They loved their garden. They even had grapes. It had expanded form a simple cabbage patch to spots with corn, tomatoes, lettuce, all sorts of things. They had even planted trees! John in particular took great pride in his apple trees. They wouldn't be old enough to actually grow apples yet, but they were still healthy. Alison loved her lettuce and grapes. She took excellent care of them. Bree's corn and potatoes were delicious, and all three of them spent several hours a week working on them. Watering them all had been an issue at first, until they managed to get some sprinklers attached to a hose attached to the water main. Twice a day, every day, the plants were sprinkled with a fine dew from the ceiling. They had attached the sprinklers to the top using a flying broach they had found, and made sure the sprinklers were secure. They really loved their garden.

Which was why it shocked Alison to see Nuada standing in the middle of the room when she went in. She didn't move for a bit, just watched him warily. But he didn't move either. He was too busy looking at everything. After about ten minutes, Alison quietly went over to her vegetables and began working on them. She left him alone.

…

Nuada was stunned. He hadn't expected to find something like this in here. He had thought to find more cold metal, more steel and machinery. But instead he found… living plants. Real plants that were cared for. Fruits and vegetables that were growing perfectly healthy and naturally. It was all just sitting there, perfectly pristine and cheery looking. He thought that it must just be automatic machines that cared for these plants. Which was why he was shocked when that human girl came in. He didn't look at her-he didn't need to. He could tell what she was doing. She was planting. Grooming. Making sure that everything was going okay. Like she actually cared.

Nuada couldn't stand it. He left.

…

John remembered the old diner days when he was young and he and his brothers would all help his parents run the place. There was this one time that it was so busy, his father had to ask him to cook some food. It had turned out okay, but John had burned his hands several times, and his brothers made fun of it for him. John had to admit though… he became one hell of a cook.

Upon achieving the title of El Solo Hombre in the Freezer, he had also been given the title of Head Chef and Reacher of High Places. Basically he was the cook and had to fetch and carry. He didn't actually mind that so much as he minded being called things like "Slave Boy" and "Testosterone". Those were really just insulting more than anything. Well, not so much Testosterone. It was better than Boy Scout, at least. He hated being called Boy Scout almost as much as the person who had given the nickname to him. He could put up with Slave Boy just fine usually, since it was always in fun. Boy Scout was the equivalent of labeling him a loser and a dimwit.

Okay, so he was dubbed those too. But only when the girls were upset. It was all even. He usually told them they were fat when they said that. Then they would get all insulted and they'd have shoot-outs and have to clean up a mess afterwards, but it was saving face that counted.

The point was he knew what it was like to be mocked. He knew what it was like to be torn down. He knew what it was liked to be backstabbed and ignored and go through the day being unappreciated and having your efforts go to waste. That was why he left Nuada alone when they passed each other in the halls. Nuada was like a wraith. Or a ghost. Or something that wasn't really all there. John couldn't say that he knew exactly what the prince was going through, and he knew that he couldn't completely empathize with him. But he could a little. And a little goes a long way.

And that was why John always left out an extra plate after every meal. That was why he never said anything when he found the food untouched and he had to put it away. That was why he never said anything when he noticed that eventually some of the food was missing when he went to clear the plate. That was why he never said anything when after several months he started just putting the empty plate in the dishwasher. That was also why he never said anything about the all the water bottles and fruit starting to vanish. John never said anything because even if he couldn't fully comprehend, he could at least understand a little. Sometimes all you could do was live one day at a time and get over it on your own time.

John could identify with Nuada, because sometimes he knew he wasn't entirely over everything either.

…

Nuada knew what the male was doing. He knew and he didn't like it. He couldn't grasp what was going on with the two of them. Was it an effort to get on his good side? Not likely. Nuada had no power and no strength. Was the human trying to be friendly? A waste of energy. Nuada was not interested in allowing anything even closely resembling peace enter into his life.

Then one day it struck him as he was eating an orange. The male was doing the same thing that girl had done. Care. Foster. Help. Nuada spat out the fruit and hurled the rest of it down the hallway.

…

Bree was not a nice person, by the standards that a lot of people seemed to have. She learned at a young age that she worked well with equally bossy, obtrusively blunt guys like herself. So when her father turned her down for the BRPD the first time right out of high school, she joined the army, much to the chagrin of her family. And had a terrific time. She went against the popular things. She was a rebel. She had a habit of pissing her superiors just for the hell of it, to remind them that she wasn't a chained dog. She resented her father for using his influence to keep her 'safe' and she made it her life to make it hell for those who tried to keep her down.

No, Bree wasn't nice. But she could tell what people were like by looking at them and seeing them walk around. And she saw Nuada plenty. He liked to frequent her hall. It was very long, very cold, and very much isolated from the rest of the base. Bree had picked the room in there partially because it was huge, and partially because she didn't get to the rooms she wanted in time. She had a fight with Alison weekly as it was over whether or not she should take Alison's room. Mostly Bree argued that she got cold easily, and Alison never got cold, so she should get the cold. Alison usually responded with "It's not my fault you were too hung-over to know what the hell you were doing. You passed out in that room, you get to sleep in it." Then they resorted to fists.

In any case, she could see why her hall was great for pacing. She had seen Nuada walk up and down it, not making any noise whatsoever, completely silent.

Frankly it was irritating. So finally one day she got really tired of it, and stood outside her door until he passed. She spoke to him. "Hey," she said. Then he turned to her and his eyes just bored straight into hers. They looked like they were burning, like they wanted to set her on fire with everything that he felt.

Bree ignored that. "Y'know, if you really want to blow off some steam, I find that blowing things up in the training room works best." The staring eyes got worse. Bree did not give up. "Or, you could maybe go attack icebergs outside. Oh, or POLARBEARS! Those things a vicious, seriously, they're scary." The eyes were now melting holes in her head. "So… I'm just gonna… go off and… yeeeeeah…"

She slammed her door behind her and took off running down the hall to the nearest room of safety. Alison's room.

…

It was strange, this place. They were feeding him, trying to help him, and yet oddly enough they did it while leaving him alone. Nuada stood perfectly still in the Garden Room, watching that female pick fruits and vegetables. The one who pretended like she didn't see him the firs time she had seen him. The one called 'Alison'.

For some reason it calmed him to watch her go about these menial tasks. Even when she screamed the first time she pulled back some corn stalks to see him sitting there.

…

The three of them were sitting on the couch in the Big Room. They were all sprawled in their usual positions all over the sofa. John was sunk down into the corner of the sofa, his right arm thrown over the edge of the couch, his coat lying on the coffee table with his tie next to it and his starch white shirt sleeves carelessly pushed up to his elbows and a beer in his left hand. Alison lying down at the other side, her long legs comfortably on top of some pillows. On the floor next to her sat a can of soda. Bree was sitting in the middle, her knees pulled up to her chest and a bowl of popcorn beside her.

They were starring at the T.V. with completely blank expressions on their faces, seeing the images on the screen but not taking them in. John broke the silence.

"Merry Christmas, girls," he said duly, toasting them and then taking a swig of the beer.

Bree mumbled something through all the popcorn in her mouth. Alison gave a half-hearted toast as well, mumbling something like "And many more… God forbid."

Then came something that had never happened in the Freezer until that moment. For the rest of their lives, everyone there would remember this. From out of the dark halls, from out of nowhere, actually, the only other male occupant walked up, looked at the three of them, and then plopped down onto the huge, plush armchair sitting next to the huge couch.

John, Bree, and Alison very cautiously peeked over at him. Their eyes were wide as dinner plates and their eyes were like saucers. They stared until Nuada turned to face them and snarled "WHAT?"

They turned around with "Nothing" coming out of their mouths at the same time. They kept glancing back and fourth from each other to the T.V. and back to Nuada. He kept staring at them with a dark look. They were irritating him. The silence dragged on until finally he turned his attention to Bree.

"You."

Bree's mouth fell open and she pointed at herself.

"No, the other red-haired female with a mouth full of half chewed food. Pass the bowl. And shut your mouth, it's disgusting for you to do that, even if you are a human."

Bree shut her mouth and passed the bowl to Alison, who extended it to Nuada. He took it from her and she immediately retracted her arms as soon as she saw that he had a firm grip on the bowl.

Again there was no noise other than the munching from Nuada. He made a half-choking sound. "How do swallow this... this…"

Alison stood up and quickly went the fridge and came back with a can, which she helpfully opened. "That stuff," she said pointing to the bowl "is called popcorn. And this-" she handed the can to him "-is coke. Never eat Mentos after drinking it. It's not pretty. Trust me. I know."

"You would," Bree muttered.

Nuada sniffed it and wrinkled his nose. "It singed my nose by just smelling this beverage."

"Wait'll you see what happens when you chug it," John waved his beer from the couch.

Nuada made a disgusted face and took a sip. The humans waited to see his reaction. He gazed at the can in his hand for a bit before speaking slowly. "It's like a cold, liquid, acid that burns my throat going down, but I find it oddly delicious." He then proceeded to take some more sips.

Bree sniffed in distaste. "Pepsi is still better."

"What's Pepsi?"

Alison fetched him a can. Nuada drank it. "Hmmm. It has no kick. This other one, what is it?"

"Coca-Cola. Or Coke."

"The Coke is better. It wakes you up."

"Pepsi is better," John and Bree said in unison.

Alison and Nuada both glared at them. The Pepsi lovers glared back.

"Coke is awesome."

"It eats your stomach."

"My stomach regenerates. I don't deal with the cowards' drinks."

"Amen, brother!"

"What?"

Yes, I know what you're probably going to say. This wasn't as funny as the last one. There is a reason for that: If I am going to continue this, I have to at least have something to point to and say "See? That's where they kind of became friends." Yes, I know this is pretty weak for that, but honestly, if I wanted to make a process of it this would turn out to be 40-something chapters long. I have neither the patience nor endurance for that. It just wouldn't be fun, and most likely it would be very much angst-ridden steaming mostly from Nuada and John. And there's enough angst for me as it is. I have my limits.

I hope you liked it, and please remember the reviews!