~*~ What the duck is This?
This is something that was started last fall, hibernated over winter on my hard drive, and only now –a whole year later –decided to be completed. This didn't actually start as a HiNaBN fic, but I figured, what the heck, it's not getting any better just sitting there, and can be spruced up with Hanna. So now we have this. And jeez, it was weird to look back and see how my writing has changed! So if this sucks, I'm blaming it on that. Yeah.
For an idea as to how Hanna looks, just stalk on over to Tessa's Deviantart page (and wish her well while you're there) and look in her Hanna folder for a piece titled After All This Time. The third one down is how this Hanna looks.
Musical Muse: The original was written during a Terminator marathon, and the Hanna bits added courtesy of Nightwish
Warnings: Few swears, whatever.
Disclaimer: I swear officer, I'm not Tessa!
~*~One Snowy Night~*~
'Hellava night.' The Sergeant thought with a shiver. He watched the snow whip past him through the fogged up windshield of his cruiser. The wind was dashing the large snowflakes every which way, and it was well past midnight, so visibility was as bad as it could be. And it was cold. Damn cold. It was the kind of night you really just wanted to spend curled up in front of a fire, a dog at your feet and your wife curled up next to you. But no, here he was driving down this miserable stretch of double lane highway, in the middle of this nasty-ass blizzard. And according to dispatch, the weather was only going to get progressively worse as the night went on.
The Sergeant sighed and crouched closer to the windshield, trying to see through the storm. He passed a few cars going slowly in the opposite direction, but there was no one in front of him or behind him, to his knowledge. He just hoped there weren't any stupid animals in the middle of the road, because in these conditions he wouldn't be able to see them until it was too late.
Then again, what crazy creature would want to be out now?
He almost hit his answer.
The shadow loomed suddenly along his side of the road. Sergeant swore and jerked the wheel away, only to notice it was no deer standing exposed to the elements.
It was a kid.
Sarge swore again and braked carefully. He craned his neck back over the seat, and saw the kid still standing on the side of the road. No, scratch that, he was walking towards the police cruiser.
The Sergeant got out of his car and approached the kid. The boy was probably fifteen or so, but he was so pathetic-looking and small that it was hard to tell. A thick pair of glasses perched gingerly on his nose, and his curly red hair was so dirty and greasy it was almost brown. He was wearing clothes that looked like they offered very little protection against the blizzard, and carried a battered backpack over his shoulder. A runaway.
As he drew nearer, Sergeant began noticing other details. Like how the kid was trembling, ghost white, and looked exceptionally weary. All this could be attributed to the freezing conditions, except for the eyes. He carried a pair of the most deep-shrunken eyes Sergeant had ever seen. And he thought he had seen some terrible expressions in his time. The electric blue eyes seemed almost luminous when framed by those black circles. This kid looked fucking dead.
"Hey, kid" Sarge yelled once he was close enough. "You alright? I almost hit you!"
To his uttermost surprise, the kid smiled a big toothy grin that seemed so out of place on his face, and in such hellish conditions. It was like he became alive again. His whole face lit up like it was illuminated from within, and even the fierce storm around them didn't seem so bad. Sergeant froze in shock at the sight. It was a beautiful smile, but it still seemed so odd.
"That's alright." The boy said softly, and shrugged his scrawny shoulders underneath his coat. He looked incredibly skinny, almost emaciated. The thick woolen sweatshirt might have tried to hide some of the lankiness, but it only served to exaggerate it.
The boy stepped closer. "You ok? Your car kinda skidded a bit."
Sergeant smiled lightly at the kid's misplaced concern. "I'm not the one walking down the street in the middle of a blizzard! What are you doing out here?" If this kid was a runaway, he needed to bring him in. If he wasn't… well, no one deserved to be out on a night like this.
The kid shrugged again. "I'm just, ya know." He gestured vaguely, his grin changing into something slightly sheepish. "Goin somewhere."
"Okay" was Sergeant's only answer to that less-than vague answer, and left it at that. This wasn't really the time or place for a full interrogation anyway. "Look, I can't just leave you out here. You have to come with me."
Immediately, the kid's demeanor changed. The grin vanished from his face, leaving it properly wary. He moved his weight back, onto his heels, and his body tensed. All the marks of someone wanting to run. "Are you gonna take me to the station?" he asked anxiously.
Sergeant smile broadened encouragingly. "No, I was actually thinking about the diner about ten miles from here. They've got great burgers!" He suggested. The poor kid looked starving, and it was a safe bet that he would be a bit more receptive to a burger joint than the station.
The kid eyed him warily, but walked closer to the cruiser. "I think that you're supposed to take me in." he reminded with a small grin, like he was trying to gauge the situation, to see if it was safe to proceed.
Sergeant shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah, well… it's too late and cold right now. And the station's too far. Come on, I'll treat." Sergeant turned and walked back to his car. Yeah, the kid was right, he should be brought in to the station, to find where he came from, see if he had family or friends to come get him. But it really was cold, and they were a ways from the station. These were all true.
And, well, sometimes, kids did have good reasons for running off. Maybe if the kid warmed up to him he could find out this kid's reason.
He got in behind the wheel and started the engine, and sure enough, after a moment the passenger door opened and the kid stepped in. He put his bag on the floor and settled in, closing the door and putting his hands near the air vent.
Inside the car, illuminated by the neon light of the radio, he looked even more pale and wan. Sergeant had never seen anyone look 'wan' before, only read it in books, but this kid looked like his picture should be next to the dictionary definition. He really looked dead.
Sergeant put the cruiser in gear and carefully started to drive. The roads were dark and dangerous, and he needed to be careful. The kid hunched in his seat, looking miserable. His hair alternately dripped and frizzed. Even as the heater warmed the interior, he still looked frozen. He was practically radiating cold.
"So…what's your name, son?" Sergeant tried to put a friendly tone into his voice, but the look the kid gave him said all too clearly that he wasn't really buying it. He sighed heavily, deliberated a moment, and finally decided to answer.
"My name…I mean, I'm called Hanna" he muttered. He didn't look too happy about it, and Sergeant didn't blame him. Who named their kid that? It wasn't even a boy's name. It could be that was a name he made up for himself, but if that was the case, why was he miserable about it?
"Kay, Hanna…" Hanna tensed, preparing himself for an inevitable question about what he was doing or where he was going, but Sergeant steered away from that and instead asked, "What are you going to get at Ruthy's Diner?"
Hanna smiled blissfully. "A big fat cheeseburger with bacon and fries" he said with a groan. Sergeant spared a chuckle at how wistful the kid sounded. It probably had been awhile since he had a burger.
"Well, if we get there in one piece, you'll get your wish. Ruthy has the greatest burgers in the world." Hanna smiled and licked his lips. "I hope so" he said, then leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.
The drive to Ruthy's seemed endless. Between the snow, the hunger, and the dead-cold kid next to him, it was all-out spooky on the road. Finally, like an angel from the fifties, Ruthy's diner appeared in front of him in all its neon-lit glory.
Ruthy's was a great old-fashioned diner just off the freeway. They served quality food, at great prices, and with an atmosphere that couldn't be beat. You wouldn't think a real Mom & Pop place like that would survive in this modern age of fast food, but with food that great and a following loyal enough to start a war over them, they were just fine. They even made a point to learn the name of everyone who came through, and remembered you if you ever came back. It really was heaven on earth.
"HIYA SARGE!" Ruthy herself screeched when Sergeant walked through the door, Hanna trailing miserably after him.
"Hiya Ruthy!" Sergeant yelled back with a wave. This wasn't his first visit to the diner. The kid –Hanna –looked around like he wasn't quite sure how to respond to this atmosphere. He had his backpack with him, holding it close and clutching the straps tightly like he was about ready to run. Which was ridiculous, because where would he go? The storm was so fierce now, he must know that it would be suicide to run back out there.
"Take a seat, I'll be right witcha!" Ruthy called to them. The Sergeant scanned the dining room. Despite the late hour, they weren't the only ones that had sought shelter from the storm at Ruthy's. Couples, families with small children, and loners had taken all the seats. Fortunately, an old couple who had just finished eating gave up their spots for them.
"Wheell now, who's this? You don't look young enough to be Sarge's kid, so who are ya?" Ruthy asked as soon as she got to the table. Hanna flushed –oh good, there was blood in him after all –but Sergeant laughed and said "This is Hanna. I picked him up off the freeway. He really wants to try one of your cheeseburgers." Sergeant smile a little over to Hanna, who reluctantly grinned back.
"YOU DO? Well don't that beat all! I'll bring ya the best cheeseburger you'll ever eat, just you wait! And the usual for you Sarge?" Ruthy's delight about her customer's orders was just another thing that brought them back. Once she had the orders, she sailed off to the kitchen. Hanna gave Sergeant a bemused look.
"Interesting lady." He remarked. Sergeant chuckled. "That she is." He agreed. There were a moment of awkward silence, and then Hanna asked, "You have a kid?"
Sergeant smiled. "Yeah, my son Junior. He's only nine. He's going through a Star Wars phase right now." Hanna chuckled.
"I remember going through that." The smile that crossed his face spoke of pure happy reminiscing, of a time before he was wandering deserted highways in the middle of snowstorms. He relaxed a bit in his seat, slouching over the table. He brought a hand up to support his face, but froze. He looked down at something in his palm with an expression close to horror. "I…I should, um, go wash up." Hanna said with a much unhappier voice. He scrambled out of his seat and quickly walked –almost ran –towards the back.
Sarge knew that now was the time when he had to do something he didn't want to. His officer's training demanded it, but he still felt guilty as he grabbed up the backpack from the floor and opened it. The odor of unwashed clothes wafted up to him. He ignored it and examined the contents.
The main pouch just had dirty t-shirts and a pair of jeans. The outer pockets held sneakers –one with the sole sliced to pieces -, some toiletry items, a few pens and markers, and a very old and well-read copy of Jurassic Park. There were no photographs, no personal items, nothing to indicate family connections.
Sergeant carefully re-packed the contents and replaced the bag. Its contents weren't unexpected from a runaway, but the fact that there were no family mementos worried him a bit. It indicated that Hanna perhaps didn't have a family to return to. Or didn't want to return to.
Hanna had been in the bathroom for some time now. Worried about the amount of time it was taking –and hoping he hadn't run off again –Sergeant stood up and walked to the bathroom. The men's room was a single stall, and it was occupied. He put his ear to the door. He could hear noises. It sounded like Hanna was angrily muttering at something over the sound of a rapidly running tap. Wondering just how big of a mess Hanna had to clean up, he turned away. Curiosity had compelled him to investigate, but it really wasn't his business, and getting caught spying was no way to make friends.
He returned to their table to find that Ruthy had brought their drinks. He settled in, sipped his pop, and a few minutes later Hanna came back to the table, wiping his hands on his pants almost angrily. Sergeant pretended not to notice, just like he ignored the fact that Hanna looked very troubled and, if possible, more dead than before. He silently slumped in his seat, staring unhappily at the table top.
Sarge decided to just let him mope for a little. Hanna seemed like the kind of person who couldn't stay down for long, so no doubt he would perk up before the food came. To show how unconcerned he was, Sarge picked up the paper placemat from in front of him. A carefully ripped fold led to a perfectly square piece, and he started folding. A few steps into his origami, Hanna raised his electric blue eyes to watch him.
"What are you making?" he asked with genuine curiosity. Sarge smiled privately to himself before addressing Hanna. "An origami crane. My grandma taught me how to make them as a kid. They're good luck." Hanna broke into a giant grin and grabbed his placemat. "Teach me!" he eagerly bounced in his seat, and Sarge was reminded of a puppy ready for a walk.
Hanna caught on remarkably quickly (faster than the Sergeant had when he first learned) and by the time their food came he had finished his placemat crane and was trying unsuccessfully to fold the napkins. He paused in his mission to eat his burger. Well, eat was the nicest way to put it. He practically inhaled it, grease dripping down his chin. Poor kid must've been really hungry.
They had just finished their meal when Sergeant's radio buzzed. Dispatch informed him that the snowstorm had become a lot worse in a short space of time, and that several motorists were stranded on the highway near his location. Hanna watched the transaction with interest, and actually volunteered to help get the people off the road.
Sergeant was happy for the help. The storm wasn't just worse; it seemed to have a personal vendetta against each and every person caught in its furious grip. It was dangerous for anyone to be outside, even a seasoned cop like himself. Sarge was glad for the thick trench coat he kept in the trunk, but he lost his favorite hat to the wind. He lent the scarf his wife had knitted to Hanna, because the boy was too unprotected from the elements. It turned out that about seven cars, five of which had multiple passengers, including small children, had gotten stuck in the drifts. It was only with the help of a generous trucker that they were able to get all the civilians to the safety of Ruthy's.
By the time everyone was safe, the blizzard had turned into an all-out whiteout. They couldn't see a foot out of the windows. Not that there was much to see. By this time it was well past three in the morning. Darkness swirled on the edge of vision, almost with a terrible mind of its own.
Inside the diner, it was brightly lit, but that didn't do much to lighten the atmosphere. People were tired, wet, and grouchy. It smelled like too many people and grease, not a very pleasant combination. Sergeant and Hanna helped Ruthy light some old fashioned oil lamps she had in back –in case the power went out –and serve the last of the cooked food to the patrons. The waitresses circulated through the crowd, giving out smiles and words of encouragement. It was uncomfortably loud. Children were crying, adults were talking loudly to one another, and the radio blared, warning after warning about the dangerous conditions…
…until the power, and the radio, finally went out.
Naturally, people screamed, and started talking even louder. There were a few pained noises as people ran into tables or each other. Babies and small children cried loudly. For a few precious seconds it seemed that people would accept that they were without power, and that they could calmly manage. But that didn't last long at all. Someone started to panic, and the rest followed along like a flock of startled sheep. The room turned to chaos in seconds.
Sergeant forced his way to the front of the store. "All right, everyone just calm down!" Sergeant called out. It took a few moments, but the people finally stopped talking and paid attention to the man in front of them. "Now listen folks, I know this all seems scary, but if we all just stay calm, we can get through this. We're just fine here at Ruthy's. We're not gonna starve, and there's no reason we can't just sit here and wait out the storm. We'll all be fine."
People began to relax. The sight of a man in uniform calmed everyone immensely. People began calmly talking to each other, and started sorting out blankets and coats. Men began making bold plans to brave the storm before Sarge stamped out those ideas. Things began to quiet down.
Until something hit one of Ruthy's giant windows.
Everyone screamed. Sergeant jumped, then rushed over to the window.
Nothing was there. Only darkness and swirling snow.
Sergeant heard a gasp by his elbow. He glanced down to see that Hanna had followed him over to the window, and was staring out of it intensely. He finally looked up at Sergeant. His eyes shone large and afraid out of his white and terrified face.
"You don't see it, do you?" he whispered.
"See what?" asked Sergeant. Hanna's blue eyes grew wide with horror. His breath started coming and going with a greater intensity, and Sergeant reached out a hand to try to calm him. "Hanna are you okay?"
Hanna stared at him like he was the crazy one. "No, I'm not okay! Nothing is okay!" he breathed out in a panicked whisper. He looked back at the window, then around the room with those wide eyes, taking in the sight of all the terrified people. They shot around the whole room, floor to ceiling. "ARHG!" He moaned in frustrated horror and grabbed his lanky hair. His eyes returned to the window.
"Hanna…Hanna what's wrong?" Sergeant asked. He was worried now, much more than he had been when the lights went out. Hanna was acting like there was some kind of monster out there. He had seemed so calm and together earlier, but now seemed to be in complete terror. Sergeant could only assume that whatever had Hanna so terrified could only be something very, very bad.
Hanna just gave him a pleading look, and shot a look around the room again. Meeting Sergeant's eyes again, he seemed to come to some conclusion. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans, and pulled out a black sharpie. Walking up to the window, he scribbled a strange design onto the glass. When he finished the symbol, he took a deep breath and pressed both hands to it.
A shockingly bright blue light filled the room, coming from the window. Several women shrieked, and Sergeant jumped again. Hanna moved away and motioned for Sergeant to take his place before the glass.
"Do you see it now?" he asked, desperation coloring his voice.
Sergeant carefully approached the window. Past the symbol, through the glass, he saw…nothing. Just swirling darkness.
Just as he was about to ask Hanna what he was getting at…something hit the glass again behind the marking. Something that he could now clearly see.
It was a monster. It looked like a woman, a skinny old woman with long white hair and a white ragged cloak. Her skin was bone-white, but its eyes, mouth, and the scratches that marked her face were black. Her mouth was filled with jagged shark teeth, and yawned deep and dark against the glass.
Sarge jerked back, a very old memory rippling over him. His grandmother, with her creaky old voice in her creaky old chair, telling him and his siblings about a lady lost in a blizzard, turning into snow herself and came out after dark to eat disobeying children…but that was impossible. Something like that couldn't exist.
It…she…it…pressed up against the glass, trying to force its way in. Claws and teeth scratched the glass eerily. Her black blank eyes stared into the diner, passing over all the scared civilians –who showed no reaction to its appearance – over Sergeant, and landed on Hanna, who stared back at it with a braver face than the one he wore recently.
"Let me in, devil-boy!" it screeched. The voice was the howling wind given words, screeching ice over cold hard surfaces and boring into the heads of those who could hear it.
Hanna shook his head, never breaking eye contact. She snarled unhappily at him, then peeled herself away from the glass and vanished into the storm. Hanna turned around, away from the window. He stared at Sergeant, the haunted expression back in his eyes. Sergeant finally understood where it was coming from.
"I…I think we're kinda in trouble." Hanna admitted. Sarge stared at him, unable to comprehend what was happening. Hanna…and that thing…the blizzard…that marking…It didn't make sense, and yet, somehow…it did. He wanted answers, but questioning Hanna in front of all these panicking people probably wasn't a good idea. It was only though the deepest miracle that they hadn't seen past him and gotten a look at that terrible creature.
"Let's go in back. We need to talk." Sarge said firmly. Hanna nodded, and drew a line down the center of his scribble drawing before walking towards the back. Assuming that what Hanna had just done ensured that the citizens wouldn't be able to see that…thing, Sarge grabbed a lantern and followed Hanna.
Once they were in the store room, Hanna stopped with his back to the Sergeant. He took one long deep breath. Sarge watched as his shoulders began to shake, but Hanna made no other noise. Worry for the boy over-riding the fear of the thing outside, Sarge put one hand Hanna's stick thin shoulders and watched Hanna's face crumple. His eyes seemed wet before he scrunched them closed, but tears didn't fall. Hanna had hid it so well before, but it seemed that the fear that had encroached all night finally caught up with him.
Hanna allowed Sarge's hand for a single moment, then pulled away. He took a few gulping breaths and rubbed his face with his hands. When his large blue eyes met Sarge's again, they were dry. The shadows that the lamp cast on his face made him look very, very scared.
"Sorry." Hanna said with another sheepish smile. "I shouldn't have…it's just…" Sarge waited while Hanna searched for words. It seemed there weren't any.
"...you can't do anything about that thing out there." The Sergeant supplied for him after a time. Hanna gave him a quizzical look, but nodded in resignation.
Sarge wondered how he had put the pieces together so well, but when he looked back it wasn't so difficult. Hanna had always struck him as a bit odd, and finding out that he could easily see creepy snow ladies and could work some sort of magic wasn't that terribly hard to believe. And that thing fit so well with his grandmother's old stories, the ones that he had always secretly hoped were true. How silly and foolish they had seemed before…until now.
But it seemed that even powers impossible for a young kid to possess couldn't do much for the situation out there. If the stories were true…
"I can't. I mean, that thing…" Hanna gave him an exasperated look. "It's probably better if you don't know what it is, but it's nasty and I have no damn clue about what to do about it."
"Does something have to be done? We're inside; that should be enough, right?" Sargent asked, dreading the inevitable answer.
"Um, yeah, she's not gonna stay out there. The whole point of the blizzard-" he gestured around them, indicating the storm outside the walls "-is to trap people, immobilize them, so it can…eat them." Hanna's tone turned quiet at the end. "This restaurant is a fucking buffet wrapped up for her to eat. All she has to do is get inside and Bam! We're toast. Or frozen, really." Hanna seemed to have a case of gallows humor.
"And that's it? We're just going to sit here and let that thing eat us?" Sarge asked. Maybe it was stupid and redundant to ask, but he wanted his answer. Hanna looked up at him with tired resignation. "If there was something I could do, don't you think I would have done it?" he snapped uncharacteristically. Sarge wondered if stress was finally getting to him.
"Will I be able to kill it if I shoot it?" Sarge indicated the gun holster strapped to his side. Hanna gave it a skeptical look. "Are the bullets silver, or pure iron, or blessed?" "Um, no. I don't think so." "Then no. You need really special weapons to kill one of these." Hanna stared at the floor. "And I don't want to kill anything. Not even that." He trailed off, but not before Sarge saw the pained look in his eye.
Hanna stood motionless in the middle of the room, his expression closed and his posture defensive. Sarge had a good idea of what he was thinking, because he was thinking something along the same lines: that their deaths, and all the deaths of those people, were impossible to thwart, that they were all going to die and there was nothing they could do. But Sarge's fighting spirit was not backing down. It refused to settle and accept what was going to happen. Sarge knew that no matter how low the odds, no matter how unlikely survival was, he was going to do his best to keep these people alive.
Hanna had the look of someone desperately racking his brains as well, so Sarge let him stand and think it over for a while. He moved away and walked to the back door, checking that it was firmly locked. If what Hanna implied was true, a locked door wouldn't keep that thing out forever. He looked down and saw a thin line of frost where the door met the floor. Would that thing wait for them all to starve, or freeze to death, for the last person to die so that it could enter the building? Or would it choose the quicker route, simply force its way in? Could it force its way in? If it was what he thought it was, it couldn't get in unless allowed in. Would one of the citizens try to brave the storm and unwittingly let that thing inside? Would a window crack due to cold, and the thing creep in that way? The possibilities were terrifying and endless.
"There…might be something." Hanna's quiet voice brought him back to the situation at hand. Hanna remained where he was, but now he looked…different somehow. Something had changed. "It's stupid, it probably won't work, and we'll all end up dead quicker but…it's something." He offered, meeting Sarge's eyes.
"What is it?" he asked as he moved back over to the boy.
"If we invite it inside and bribe it with something, and distract it, I might be able to…um, banish it, I guess, would be the thing. It'll go away and the storm will stop, is what'll happen. But it's this really complicated spell and I've never done something like it ever before. And if it fails …we're fucked." Hanna finished. His gaze was continuous and steady. "But if it works …we're golden." He offered with a smile.
Sarge nodded. "What needs to be done?"
The hour that followed was the strangest in his life. He gathered Hanna's bag from the front room, reassuring the people that they were working on a repairing generator in the back as he went. He locked the store room door behind him and watched Hanna flip through Jurassic Park until opening it to a specific page. It turned out the book had a few scribbles in its margins. Some very special scribbles. He left the lantern in a central place in the room and followed Hanna's instructions. He pulled cartons of salt off the shelves and laid out a circle on the floor behind the back door. Hanna meanwhile was absorbed in copying a complicated mess of lines he was marking from his book onto the floor, making a large symbol with a center clear of marks. He used his black marker for most of it, but turned to using the salt for a few lines and, once, a tiny bit of his own blood, using it to make a perfect circle around the outside of the rune. Sarge hoped Ruthy wouldn't be too angry. Finally, at Hanna's urging, he fetched a large chuck of ground hamburger from the freezer and put it in the center of Hanna's symbol.
"Heh, um…you wanna hear the really stupid part of this plan?" Hanna asked with a nervous smile. "The um…offering…needs to be 'fresh'-" he supplied his own air quotes "-and for it to seem fresh it needs to be, um, bloody." He nervously turned to Sarge and put on his best supplicating look. "My blood is kinda messed up or I'd offer it. The thing is, that thing might just ignore the meat in the rune's center and just go after the source of the fresh blood. You don't have to do it!" he hastily added. Sarge made no answer, but simply walked to a counter where several knives were waiting. "I mean, its kinda suicide and there might be fresher stuff in the freezer…" Hanna trailed off and watched in silence as Sarge drew the knife across the skin of his arm. The shallow wound dripped onto the meat on the floor.
"What now?" Sarge asked, nervousness finally growing strong in his gut. While they were making preparations he had been able to ignore it, but now it couldn't be passed any longer. This could kill them both, kill all the people. In the slim chance it actually worked, it would probably hurt Hanna terribly. That blood included in the rune couldn't be there just for show.
"Now we open the door." Hanna whispered quietly. He pointed at the salt circle Sarge had made behind the door. "You stand there. When you open the door, there's a good chance the salt will be blown away, but here's hoping it won't." He flashed a tight smile before indicating the complicated mess of marker and meat of the floor. "Hopefully it'll run right into this, and I hope it does, because I need to sit here and activate the magic once it's inside the circle."
"Wait wait wait." Sarge held up a hand. "Where's your salt circle? If that thing ignores the trap you're the first thing it'll attack."
"I know." Hanna said with grim determination. "If it comes after me, I might be able to get salt in its eyes or something to slow it down." He looked sharply at Sarge. "No matter what happens, stay in the salt circle. Throw salt at it if it comes close to you. I might not be able to save myself, but at least you can make it out." A grim smile lit his face. "Maybe I'll taste so bad it'll get sick and go away."
"Hanna you can't do this. It's too dangerous." He spoke those words out of some sense of responsibility, even though he knew it was pointless. Hanna was determined, and the point of no return had passed a long time ago. "Can't I take you're place there? I'm the one who's already bleeding."
Hanna shook his head as he physically pushed Sarge into the salt circle. "You can't do magic. I wouldn't let you take my place even if you could. That shit will fuck you up."
Hanna got him settled in the circle and smiled up at him. "It's been nice knowing you Sergeant." He said, once more too bright for the current mood. He stuck his hand out to shake, but Sarge grabbed it and pulled him into a tight hug instead. His arms wrapped completely around Hanna's thin shoulders, and the boy's tiny form was almost completely covered by his. Hanna tensed for a single moment before relaxing. His own arms came up to tentatively wrap around the other man's waist, gripping tightly and burying his face in his chest.
Sarge wanted to stand there forever, keep Hanna safe and secure. Keep that thing, and whatever other nasty things there were out there, away from him. Protect him like he would his family, put himself in the way of whatever harm came to him. Even give his own life to keep Hanna alive.
"You can't keep me here forever you know." Hanna's muffled voice reached his ears. Hanna seemed to have guessed his thoughts. "This has to happen, don't you see. It can't be stopped, or everyone will die. And it's better this way. You've got people waiting for you. I don't. You're the one who has to survive this. You've got to keep living your life, even if I don't keep living mine."
"That's not true Hanna!" he whispered, but Hanna was already pulling away. He gave Sarge a sadly serious look that spoke more words than the one he had just spoken. Sarge could see the pain in Hanna's eyes, but before he could pull the boy back, like he wanted to, Hanna grabbed the lantern from the floor and handed it to Sarge. He walked away and took his place behind the rune on the floor.
Hanna stood there and collected himself for a moment, breathing deep and steady before crouching down outside the rune. He raised one hand, fingers spread, and carefully positioned it so that it was almost, but not quite, touching the rune. The other hand held an uncapped sharpie, its tip touching the outermost uncompleted line of the symbol. Hanna had explained that the rune couldn't be finished until the thing entered completely, but once he sealed it the thing would be trapped and would be sent away, back to where it was before it entered their world.
Hanna looked up, caught Sergeant's eye, and nodded.
Sarge opened the door.
For a moment, nothing malicious happened. Wind and snow whirled into the room, but they were harmless gusts and contained no screeching being. Sarge held the door open, grateful that the thick metal kept his salt circle protected from the wind, but worried for Hanna's safety. The boy hadn't moved at all. He stared out the door into the swirling darkness, gaze focused and his eyes sharp.
Sergeant barely allowed himself to hope that nothing would happen when something did happen. With a horrible wail, the snow lady barged into the room, pushing the heavy door out of its way with little notice of the man standing behind it. Sarge stopped it from slamming into his face and forced it away from him, out of his line of sight. He had a front row view of the room, the lantern in his hand offering a little light to reveal the room's occupants.
The lady stood surrounded by her own effluence, creating her own miniature blizzard in the middle of the room. Frost formed at its feet, spreading out to cover the floor and encase the shelves and stands touching the floor. It swayed in its own breeze on the very edge of the rune. From his viewpoint Sarge couldn't tell if it was looking at the meat, the trap, or Hanna. Hanna himself was perfectly motionless, crouching oblivious to the stinging wind as his hair whipped around his face. His eyes were tightly shut. He looked almost calm
For a very long time, only the wind moved. The room's occupants breathed lightly, or not at all. They waited for someone to move first, someone to crack the invisible ice they were all frozen in.
The lady moved first. One rag wrapped foot stepped into the circle, then the other. They dragged over the lines of the rune, but Sergeant didn't know if they held or not. Hanna still hadn't looked at it.
The thing reached the center of the circle, within reaching distance of Hanna. It crouched to sniff the meat. Its long black tongue slithered from its maw of a mouth to lick the meat, but still Hanna didn't move.
Sergeant realized something wasn't right when the thing began to eat, making obscene slurping sounds, and Hanna was still motionless. He couldn't tell for certain, but it almost looked like a layer of ice had silently formed over Hanna, sealing him to the floor. His eyes were open though, and were staring desperately at Sarge from his snow-white face. Sarge looked down at his own feet, saw that they were mostly unfrozen from the ground, and bolted forward.
The lady in the circle didn't notice him until he tackled Hanna. His shoulder hit Hanna's hard, sending the smaller form slamming into the ground. The thing squealed in rage as he scrambled back to his feet, facing him directly for the first time. And for the first time Sarge felt the entire strength the thing possessed. His breath froze in his chest, icicles stabbing his heart and windpipe. A wave of shivers passed over him before his skin became so cold it was unable to move. Only the hand still clasping the lantern remained unfrozen. It's eyes bore into his, pinning him to his spot, and he truly knew what it was like to be prey, helpless in the face of the predator. He knew what it would be like to face his death.
"Leave Him Alone!" Hanna lunged forward, sharpie clenched tightly and fingers of the other hand stretched out. The marker swiped across the hoar-rimmed floor, before Hanna landed heavily, hand slamming the floor over the new marking.
A loud "CRACK!" like ice splitting on a lake filled the air. The marker lines glowed, first faintly then growing brighter as the frost melted away. The salt and blood smoked, adding to the smell of snow in the air. The thing wailed, winds thrashing around it in fury. Its clawed hands reached out to claw at Hanna, but before it reached him they began to melt, turning brittle before becoming steaming water dripping to the floor. It buckled under its own weight, like a snow drift in the spring sunshine.
Sarge and Hanna stumbled to their feet, watching silently as the creature crumpled to the ground, puddles of mush and water vanishing like they were being sucked down an invisible drain. The marker lines and salt and blood flowed with them, until the floor was wet, but unmarked. The lantern's flame flickered, but burned steadily on. Outside the door, the wind gave one final gust before abruptly dying down, dark gray clouds becoming visible for the first time in hours. The storm was over.
"She's gone." Hanna whispered, clutching his shoulder where Sarge had hit him. He smiled up at the cop before his face abruptly paled as he fell to the floor.
Sarge got his arm around Hanna as he knelt to catch him. "Hanna? What's wrong?" he asked sharply, worry coloring his tone. Hanna's eyelids flickered before peeling back, bright blue eyes (where they that bright before?) meeting his tiredly. "Exhausted…magic…so tired…" he slumped in Sarge's arms, limply collapsing into unconsciousness.
Sergeant climbed to his feet, amazed at how light the boy's body was. His own son must weigh more than Hanna did. He left the lantern blazing away where the rune had marked the floor. He slung Hanna's backpack over his shoulder and unlocked the door with one hand, rushing past the civilians exclaiming happily over the electricity coming back on. Sarge yelled over his shoulder that they were to remain in the building and someone would be sent for them, before he pushed out the doors into the grey dawn light. He stumbled through piles of snow to his cruiser, gently placing Hanna in the passenger seat.
The clouds grew fainter and patchier as Sergeant sped along, and by the time he reached the hospital the sun was just peeking its head over the horizon to a cloudless day. Sergeant ignored the lovely sight of the red colored snow drifts and focused only on getting Hanna to safety.
The staff relieved Hanna's weightless form from his arms and carted him off, leaving him desperate and alone in the waiting room. He took the opportunity to radio the station, explaining the situation and requesting someone be sent to the diner. He then called his wife and let her know he was fine, just at the hospital with someone who was injured in the blizzard. He would explain some of the story to her later. He had a feeling she wouldn't want to hear about the lady made of snow.
Junior though…his son might like to hear the story. When he was old enough. And he had every intention of introducing his son to Hanna. He had a feeling they would get along well.
A member of the staff came out after about an hour and told him that while nothing physically seemed wrong with Hanna, they were unable to wake him. They asked him a series of medical-related questions and Sergeant answered as truthfully as he could. When they were over he asked if he could see Hanna.
They led him to a small sunlit room. Hanna laid small and fragile on the clean white sheets of the hospital bed. IVs were taped to his arms, and in the corner a heart monitor beeped rhythmically. Hanna looked like he was simply sleeping, except no child should ever look so close to death while still alive.
Sergeant sat for a long time at Hanna's bedside, but his official duties finally pulled him away. Before he left, he told the head nurse that he would be paying for all of the treatments Hanna may need.
Later that day he returned, his wife and Junior in tow, to see if Hanna had improved. The staff said that there was no change, and Sergeant reluctantly agreed with them. Hanna still lay unmoving, looking like death warmed over. His wife openly cried for the poor boy, and Junior left Hanna his favorite Luke Skywalker action figure for the older boy to play with when he woke up. If he woke up.
Sergeant was beginning to get worried. He thought about asking for an MRI or CAT scan, but thought better of it. What could modern instruments possibly tell them about a boy recovering from magical exhaustion? If Hanna could recover from this, it would be on his own.
Hanna laid in that hospital bed for two days. Sergeant visited day and night to no sign of change. He heard the staff whispering in the halls, and tried to ignore the growing fear in his own gut.
When he arrived at the hospital after his shift on the second day, he was told that Hanna was gone.
"Gone?" Sergeant felt like a sledgehammer had crushed his chest when the young blonde intern said those words. "Gone like…he's dead?"
The nursing student looked at him with a look that barely covered his belief that Sergeant was an idiot. "Naw, gone as in he's split." He growled out with an accent that was not from this part of the world. "He's run off. Near as we can tell, he left just after you did this mornin'" He shrugged nonchalantly, as if his patients spirited themselves away all the time.
And while that seemed was all he felt about his flighty patient, Sergeant felt a great deal more concern. Hanna had obviously recovered enough to believe that he could escape, but he wouldn't be able to get too far. Hanna couldn't just disappear from his life like this. He wasn't going to let him.
He turned to leave, to start the search, but the intern's sharp exclamation made him turn around. The man was digging in the pocket of a questionably clean lab coat, and finally extracted a slightly crumpled paper crane and a Star Wars action figure. "He's left these behind. He took all this other shit, even though we had it locked up somewhere else." His eyes met Sergeant's, and he wondered briefly if the nurse did feel something for the boy he had taken care of. It was so hard to tell. "He's a wily little sucker. Personally, I don't think yer ever gonna catch him." Sergeant shook his head as he took the crane and the toy from him. "I won't accept that." He said firmly. He wondered, as he turned away, if he was trying to convince himself or the young nurse-in-training.
He jumped in his cruiser, and alerted dispatch about a runaway with red hair, probably hitch-hiking down the highway.
The Sergeant drove all day, up and down the highways and down every muddy dirt road. He saw a schoolyard full of children using the wet sticky snow to make snowmen, but no red-headed teenager building with them. He saw winter birds flitting around to recover food lost during the storm, but no starving boy looking for scraps with them. He saw melting puddles of snow turning dirt roads to mush, but no fresh tracks from a boy with a mutilated sneaker. He heard nothing on the radio about anyone picking up his runaway.
Only once, at the very end of the day, as the sun was setting red and bright against the horizon, he thought he saw someone silhouetted against its light, growing fainter and fainter even as he drove his cruiser closer. By the time he reached the spot, the sun was gone, taking with it his last hope of finding Hanna. Sergeant returned home. He went back to his life, finally admitting that he had lost Hanna for good.
~*~Please review this stupid little story.