Dante had left him. Hanna sat listlessly in their…his office, flipping the pages of a book that his undead friend had been reading only the night before. It wasn't fair. Milton had become his closest companion, a better friend than Hanna had ever hoped, ever dreamed, he could have. The zombie had cooked proper meals for him, doctored whatever ailments that weren't serious enough for a trip to Worth's, and protected him whenever possible. It had come to the point where if Hanna heard any questionable sounds outside, all he had to do was half open one eye, because if there was an orange glow nearby he knew he was safe.

And it was all over now, because he was a damn weakling. Hanna ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, his glasses abandoned on the floor. That was the only explanation Hanna could think of. Chaucer had left because he couldn't handle looking after someone so weak.

It didn't seem like it had been only a couple hours ago that the zombie had simply put on his coat and hat, and gone to walk out the door. Hanna had asked, with his usual curiosity, when he would be back, and Malory's response had left him numb.

"I'm…Not. Since I came here you've gotten into more danger than before, I think. When you rushed into things I tried not to worry, because you had survived without me. And I think that's the reason. You go too far to look after me, Hanna. I'm dead, and I need to leave before you die too."

The redhead's throat tightened just from remembering it. How his friend had opened the door and walked out, not looking back. How at the last second he had paused, and Hanna had hoped he'd changed his mind. And how Gray had taken off the fedora and hung it back on the wall before closing the door behind him.

Overwhelmed, Hanna broke into tears and buried his face in his sleeves to muffle them. He'd lost the best thing to happen to him. How long now until he lost them all? Veser, Toni, even Conrad? They'd all leave him soon. He knew it.

A slow rumble of thunder broke through his sobs, and he realized what that quiet humming he'd barely noticed was.

Rain.

Tennyson didn't like to, couldn't, get really wet. He'd left his hat. He had no umbrella.

F*ck.

Without even bothering to grab his glasses, Hanna barrelled out of the room, snatching the fedora from the hook as he practically crashed through the door. The roads were slick, the storm drains gurgling as the downpour tried to flood the sidewalks. Hanna barely noticed any of it as he ran down the street, hollering at the top of his lungs.

"Wyatt! Gulliver! Othello! Atticus! Lane! Where are you!"

In his frantic, glasses-less state, Hanna missed the slippery first step heading down toward the park. Unfortunately he didn't miss the next one. Or the one after. Or the one after that. He wasn't sure if he fell down the whole set; he lost track after step number three knocked him out cold.

He came back to his senses slowly, a dull throbbing in his head and back giving him reason to believe he HAD gone don the entire thing. The very next thing he realized was that he was indoors, and that someone had placed something cold on the lump on his head. Hardly daring to even consider what that may imply, he opened his eyes the tiniest, tiniest bit. And promptly sat up so fast that his ice pack went flying and his vision spun violently.

"OMIGAWDBLAKEYOUCAMEBACK!"

{…} frowned, and retrieved the bag of frozen corn, placing it back on his friend's head.

"Yes. Now lay back down?"

Hanna refused to cooperate until everything was explained, and {…} told him he would explain if Hanna would rest. Eventually they came to a compromise which involved Hanna leaning against the wall so he was reclining more than sitting.

{…} stretched out his long legs, and made sure that the ice was still cold enough to be affecting the redhead's bump.

"I spoke to Worth. He said that you'd get yourself into a mess no matter what, and that you'd probably get worse without me, so it was pointless for me to leave."

With the slightest of smiles, the zombie put an affectionate hand on Hanna's shoulder.

"But more than that, I realized that it doesn't matter if my being here can't keep you safer. What matters is that if I'm here, at least you have someone to take care of you come the morning."

Hanna swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, and made a show of thoroughly wiping and adjusting his glasses. Then, he carefully inched over closer to Gordon, forcing the undead man to move his arm so Hanna could lean against him. Hanna realized that, in his own dry way, Odysseus had both apologized AND promised to stay with the younger man for as long as he was needed.

And Hanna could safely say that he was going to need his friend for a long time.

Forever, really.