Several days later, Hannah was still reeling from everything that had happened. The Snow Queen had been defeated; Anna, Elsa, and Kristoff had returned to Arendelle; Mr. Gold, it turned out, had been conspiring against everyone else. The sorcerer had been about to sacrifice Hook for the sake of a spell when Belle, of all people, had stopped him, using the Dark One dagger. He was gone now – banished from Storybrooke. Hannah felt frustrated that the one person who could answer her questions was forever out of her reach.
The rest of the town's residents had relaxed considerably, and Storybrooke now resembled how Hannah pictured every other small town in America. Emma and David went off to the sheriff's station in the morning. Henry and Hannah rode the bus to and from school. Mary Margaret had yet to return to work, but everyone seemed to be easing back to what Hannah considered 'normal'. No one mentioned Ingrid, Mr. Gold, or anything reminiscent of the chaos they'd experienced since Hannah's arrival. Despite how much she'd craved a sense of normalcy, the sudden shift felt odd to Hannah.
Nonetheless, she did her best to adjust, throwing herself into school with a renewed zeal. Miss Kirkland had been doing a decent job of providing Hannah with activities that were a bit more intellectually stimulating and challenging than what the rest of the class was doing. Most days, Hannah had some sort of homework, and she'd taken to completing her homework up in her bedroom (which she shared with Henry half of the time). Up there, she could temporarily block out distractions – Mary Margaret fussing over Neal and the occasional mushy moments between Emma and Hook, for example.
Normal had done nothing to alleviate Hannah's insecurities, unfortunately.
A little over a week had passed when Hannah awoke feeling a way she hadn't felt in a while – groggy, achy, and absolutely certain she was coming down with something. Sighing, she pushed herself out of bed and walked over to the top of the stairs to glance down at the main living area. Mary Margaret was shuffling around in the kitchen. Henry had spent the previous night at Regina's, so Hannah wasn't surprised not to see him. She was surprised not to see any sign of Emma or David. A quick glance at the clock on her nightstand revealed she'd slept nearly 30 minutes later than she normally did. It was odd that Mary Margaret hadn't come to wake her, but it did mean Hannah had a limited amount of time to get ready before she had to leave to catch the bus.
Feeling the way she did, Hannah would normally prefer to stay in bed. However, school had surprisingly become a haven for her since Miss Kirkland had begun challenging her. At school, she didn't have to dwell on her insecurities over Neal and the other members of her family. And so, despite her urge to crawl back under the covers, Hannah moved across her bedroom to retrieve a clean set of school clothes before descending the stairs. If she could time things just right, Hannah could avoid drawing any unnecessary attention from Mary Margaret before she had to leave for school. If Mary Margaret knew she was feeling unwell, there was no question she'd send Hannah right back up to bed.
"Good morning, Mom," Hannah murmured as she strode across the breakfast area to the bathroom.
"Good morning, Hannah!" Mary Margaret replied in a cheery voice. "I was about to come wake you. You're going to be late if you don't hurry."
"I know," Hannah agreed before entering the cozy bathroom.
Despite her words to Mary Margaret, Hannah took her time in the shower, allowing the warm water to temporarily soothe her aches. She hoped to have just enough time after emerging from the bathroom to grab a piece of toast or something else quick on her way out the door. Hannah didn't have much of an appetite, but admitting that to Mary Margaret would surely raise red flags.
Nearly a half hour later, Hannah studied her reflection in the mirror. She'd taken her time drying off and separating her hair into two neat braids before easing into her uniform. Hannah thought her face looked a bit flushed, but then again, it was still warm in the bathroom. With any luck she could blame it on the damp bathroom air. At least the warm water had given her a small energy boost.
A knock on the door startled her. "Hannah, you're going to miss your bus!"
Hannah knew that missing her bus would just give Mary Margaret a greater chance of realizing something was amiss. Taking a deep breath, Hannah opened the door and strode over to her shoes so she could slip them on. "Sorry," she offered as she secured the straps on her black Mary Janes.
A moment later, Mary Margaret stood beside her, Hannah's backpack in one hand and lunchbox in the other. "I added a couple of muffins and an orange to your lunch. Please make sure you eat on the way to school."
"I will," promised the eleven-year-old. She slung the backpack over her shoulder (nearly wincing in the process) and grasped the lunchbox in her hand. "I love you!" she said as cheerfully as she could before sprinting out the door. She kept up the pace until she reached the courtyard just outside the building. There, she paused to catch her breath and clear a tickle from her throat before walking to the bus stop at a more leisurely pace.
Although school had recently become a welcome distraction, Hannah found herself unable to concentrate as the minutes dragged on like hours. Every inch of her body had begun to ache, from her head down to her toes, and the room felt uncomfortably warm. To the girl's dismay, her nose was beginning to feel a little stuffy. They were working independently that morning, so at least Hannah was able to work on her own assignments instead of having to collaborate with any of her classmates. Still, reading about U.S. history wasn't proving at all productive.
The words on the page blurred for the third time in as many minutes. Blinking, Hannah lifted a hand to rub her eyes. As her vision cleared a bit, she noticed Miss Kirkland in her peripheral vision. The young teacher had knelt down beside her.
"Are you all right?" murmured Miss Kirkland, concern evident in her voice.
It occurred to Hannah that it might look like she'd been crying. Mustering up a small smile, she gave a slight nod. "Just tired."
Hannah was caught off guard when Miss Kirkland reached out to gently press the back of her hand against Hannah's forehead. "Oh sweetie, you're warm. You need to go see the nurse."
"I'm okay," Hannah insisted, despite the fact that she felt anything but fine.
"You're going to the nurse," Miss Kirkland repeated. Shifting, she set a hand on Rachel's shoulder, speaking in a voice too soft to be heard by the others. "Rachel, please walk Hannah down to the nurse."
"Yes, Miss Kirkland," Rachel agreed at once, casting a concerned look at her friend.
Hannah wanted to protest further, but her desire not to attract attention outweighed her desire to avoid the nurse, even though a visit to the nurse would certainly result in her being sent home. She wasn't a doctor, but Hannah couldn't imagine feeling this crummy and not having a temperature, and Miss Kirkland had even decided she felt warm. Rising to her feet, Hannah followed Rachel toward the door, remaining silent until they were in the hallway and the door was securely shut. Only then did she let out a soft sigh.
"You don't look like you feel well," Rachel remarked in a soft voice as they made their way toward the clinic.
"I'm just tired," Hannah insisted. "I didn't sleep very well last night."
Rachel frowned. "Why didn't you stay home?"
Hannah shook her head, immediately regretting the decision as her head throbbed. "I didn't want to stay home."
She could tell Rachel wanted to say something more, but to Hannah's dismay, they'd reached the clinic entrance. "I'm fine," Hannah assured her friend. "The nurse will probably send me right back to class in a couple of minutes." Reaching for the door handle, she offered Rachel a smile before opening the door and stepping inside the cozy room, leaving the other girl in the hallway.
Several beds lined one side of the room, while a desk and a handful of chairs lined the opposite side. Hannah sank into the nearest chair and wrapped her arms around her chest as she shivered. She felt drowsy, but she refused to lie down on one of the clinic beds.
"What's wrong, honey?" the nurse asked as she made her way over to Hannah. She was a short, plump woman, older than Mary Margaret but not old enough to be a grandmother, with warm brown eyes and a kind face.
"Miss Kirkland sent me," Hannah mumbled.
The nurse pursed her lips. "You don't look like you're feeling well. Here…" She retrieved a thermometer from the desk. "Hold this under your tongue."
Not one to openly defy an adult at school, Hannah allowed the nurse to place the thermometer under her tongue and waited calmly. It was old-fashioned, a thin glass tube with a mercury core, so Hannah knew it would be several minutes.
Once the nurse had removed the thermometer, Hannah leaned her head back against the wall. The nurse made a soft hum, but Hannah tuned her out, letting her eyes droop sleepily. She had no doubt that she'd be sent home, so given the circumstances, Hannah decided not to fight the urge to rest.
She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but Hannah was nearly asleep when an unexpected voice startled her.
"Hannah."
She jumped slightly in her chair as her eyes flew open. "David?" she asked in a groggy voice. "What are you doing here?" She'd expected her father to pick her up since she was sure her mom was too busy with Neal to drive to the school, but seeing David was a bit of a relief. She had no doubt that Whale would step into doctor mode the moment he saw her, and Hannah didn't have the energy to fight him.
David squatted down in front of her so that he was at her eye level. "I'm here to take you home. How are you feeling, kiddo?"
Hannah shrugged her shoulders. She watched as he reached a hand out and gently pressed the back of it against her cheek; her eyes fluttered closed at how nice his cool touch felt against her skin.
"Come on." Reaching out, he gently helped Hannah to her feet. "Let's get you home."
She didn't object as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her out to his pickup truck. As soon as Hannah was settled into the passenger seat, seatbelt buckled, she leaned over so that her temple rested against the cool window glass.
The trip was brief, but Hannah still managed to doze off along the way. When she next opened her eyes, she was slowly ascending the stairs to the apartment. "David…" she whined softly. Despite how icky she felt, she still took offense to being carried like a baby.
"Shhh," he hushed her. "Close your eyes and rest. You'll be in your bed in just a minute."
Hannah wanted to argue further, but her body felt heavy, and arguing felt like far too much work. She didn't fight as her eyes grew heavier.
She heard the door open and close, Mary Margaret's voice, the sensation of being carried up more stairs, and finally sinking onto something soft. A blanket was pulled over her body, temporarily quelling the overwhelming chill she felt; Hannah curled up on her side, embracing the sudden warmth. Mumbling something unintelligible, Hannah succumbed to sleep once more.
The apartment was silent when Hannah awoke. Every inch of her throbbed and just pulling her arms out from beneath the covers sent chills throughout her body, but she really had to pee. As she slowly pushed herself up so that she was sitting, she realized two things. First, she was still wearing her school uniform. Second, that uniform was making her skin hurt even worse.
She managed to pull herself out of bed and shuffle over to the dresser, where she pulled out a long-sleeved t-shirt, an oversized sweatshirt, and drawstring sweatpants. Soft, fuzzy socks replaced her school socks. It seemed to take ages for her to change, but finally she was wearing less constrictive clothing. She still hurt like hell, but at least her clothing wasn't pressing against her skin in most places.
Holding onto the railing for dear life, Hannah slowly lowered her right foot to the nearest step, allowing her left foot to join on that step. Then the left foot traveled to the next step, her right foot joining after. She repeated this process until at last, she'd reached the bottom. She shuffled over to the bathroom, just barely making it in time.
A couple minutes later the girl emerged, surveying the apartment. She hadn't heard Mary Margaret or Neal since awaking, which she thought was odd. Stepping into the kitchen, Hannah had a clear view of the other bedroom. Mary Margaret was curled up on her side, asleep, as Neal slept beside her on the mattress. A lump formed in Hannah's throat, and she fought not to make a sound as tears blurred her vision. The sight of them sleeping there brought up a memory Hannah had repressed long ago. She couldn't be there. She just couldn't.
Turning, she shuffled silently over to the door, wincing as she squeezed her feet into her sneakers. As quietly as she could, she turned the knob, opened the door, and crept out to the stairwell, closing the door just as carefully. She had no idea where she was going, and she felt woozy, but Hannah once again held onto the railing and, one painstaking step at a time, made her way down to the ground level.
Just outside the stairwell was a small, shaded courtyard. Hannah sat on a cushioned wicker sofa, any energy she'd had before now gone. A cool breeze blew through the courtyard, and Hannah shivered again. Exhausted, she lifted her feet and curled up on her side, hugging herself tighter to keep warm. In spite of the circumstances, her eyelids felt heavy, and Hannah drifted off to sleep once more.
"Do you think she's feeling better?"
Emma slid out of the driver's seat of her yellow VW beetle before reaching back inside for the tray of hot cocoas from Granny's. It had come as little surprise that Henry would be worried about Hannah upon learning of her illness and early departure from school, and he'd insisted when Emma picked him up after school that they bring cocoa with cinnamon. "I don't know, kid," she told him as she closed the passenger side door. He was already standing on the curb, watching her expectantly. "David said she had a fever, but he didn't give me much more information other than she was asleep when he left."
Henry walked ahead of her, and Emma carefully walked around her car, watching her steps so she wouldn't trip and spill the cocoa. She'd just stepped up onto the car when she heard Henry call out to her.
"Mom… it's Hannah!"
Looking up quickly, Emma spotted Henry in the courtyard beside a figure curled up on the patio furniture. "What the hell?" she muttered to herself, quickening her steps until she'd reached them.
"What's Hannah doing out here?"
Balancing the cocoa in one hand, Emma reached the other down to feel Hannah's forehead. "I don't know, kid, but she's burning up. Here, take the cocoa." She handed the tray off to Henry before crouching down, rubbing Hannah's shoulder gently. "Hannah."
Hannah's eyelids fluttered, and her eyes cracked open. "Emma…?" she croaked out, her voice hoarse.
"What are you doing out here? You should be in bed."
"Don't wanna," Hannah mumbled, letting her eyelids droop until they were once again closed.
The response made zero sense to Emma, who couldn't figure for the life of her why the kid would prefer to be curled up on a hard bench in the breezy spring air instead of buried under a mountain of blankets, particularly when it appeared she was trying to keep warm. She could wait to find out after getting the kid inside, though. "Well, you aren't staying out here. Come on, let's get you upstairs."
Hannah made no move to get up or to even open her eyes again. "Nuh uh."
Emma raised an eyebrow. "I hate to break it to you, Hannah, but you really don't have a choice in the matter." Before Hannah could say anything, Emma reached down, hooking one arm under Hannah's legs and the other behind her back, carefully lifting Hannah into her arms. Emma made a mental note that the kid was lighter than she looked. She watched in mild amusement as Hannah's eyes snapped open.
"Eeemmmmmaaaaaaaa…" came an impressively drawn out whine, though it ended abruptly as Hannah barely covered her mouth in time to avoid coughing in her sister's face. She hadn't coughed much that day, but the whine had left an incessant tickle in her throat. "Put me doooowwwwnnnn!"
"Will you walk upstairs on your own if I put you down?"
Hannah turned her head away from Emma. "I don't wanna go upstairs…"
"Then I'm not putting you down."
Being carried up the stairs like a toddler was becoming an awful habit, Hannah thought, but it became worse when she heard Emma speak to Henry. How embarrassing for Henry to see her being carried like that! Still, Hannah didn't have the energy to put up much resistance. Emma was already carrying her, and on her best day, Hannah would have a hard time winning an argument with her older sister. She reached up to rub some of the sleep from her eyes, realizing belatedly how it made her look even more babyish.
"Hannah?" Mary Margaret's eyes were wide with alarm as Emma carried the kid through the door, followed closely by Henry. "What's going on? I thought you were asleep upstairs!"
"Henry and I found her sleeping in the courtyard outside," Emma explained as she headed for the stairs. "I'm not sure how high her fever was earlier, but she's burning up."
Mary Margaret darted into the bathroom, emerging quickly later with a thermometer and an unopened box of Children's Tylenol. By the time Mary Margaret reached the top of the stairs, Emma was gently setting Hannah on the bed while Henry stood near, looking worried.
"Emma, would you call Dr. Whale?"
"No…" Hannah protested at once as Emma pulled out her cell phone, though it lacked any of the punch she'd hoped for.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Mary Margaret pressed the back of her hand against Hannah's cheek, then leaned over to lightly kiss her forehead. "Emma wasn't exaggerating. Your skin is on fire. What on earth were you doing outside, Hannah?"
"Don't call Dad…" she tried again.
"He's coming," Mary Margaret said in a firm voice as she set down the medicine and held the thermometer – a digital model Hannah was more accustomed to seeing – close to Hannah's mouth. "Under your tongue."
Hannah stubbornly pressed her lips together as she made a sound that she hoped conveyed her disapproval over the situation.
"Would you rather wait for your father?"
She most certainly would rather not. Sighing, Hannah reached for the thermometer, slipping it under her tongue as she frowned spectacularly. She half expected a scolding as she waited for the thermometer to beep; instead, she watched in surprise as her mother reached over to brush the hair from her face with her fingers. Still sleepy, Hannah's eyes fluttered. In spite of the pain wracking her entire body, the motion felt good – Mary Margaret's fingers felt cool, in stark contrast to the heat of Hannah's own skin, and her touch was light enough that it didn't hurt.
Despite the warmth in the loft, particularly compared to outside, Hannah shivered. Before she could reach for the quilt, Mary Margaret was pulling the covers up over her, tucking them gently around her shoulders so that the only part of her uncovered was her head. Hannah shifted her head to watch Emma, dismayed that she'd reached Whale. She could only hear Emma's side of the conversation, but Hannah didn't need to hear her dad to know that he'd be there soon. It would be too much to hope that he'd settle for giving medical advice over the phone.
The thermometer beeped, and Hannah watched as Mary Margaret lifted the slender tool so she could read the small digital screen.
Emma tucked her phone in her pocket. "Whale's on his way," she announced as if it hadn't already been a given. "How high is her temperature?"
Mary Margaret handed the thermometer to Emma and reached for the Tylenol box, opening the package and pulling out a bottle of red liquid and a small medicine cup. Hannah barely registered what Mary Margaret was doing as she watched Emma with interest. "What's my temperature?" she mumbled. Even in her current haze, she needed to know what to expect when her father got there. A temperature of 100 or 101 wouldn't be so bad. Higher, and she might start to worry that he'd want to drag her to the hospital instead of letting her stay at home.
"Yikes," Emma said softly. "One hundred two."
Well crap. That didn't bode well for her.
"Here," Mary Margaret said, pouring some of the red liquid into the small plastic cup. "Drink this."
Hannah didn't need to be told twice. Normally, she'd put up a fight over any medicine that might leave her feeling drowsy or loopy, but seeing as how she already felt loopy, Hannah didn't see any point in arguing. She swallowed the medicine in one quick gulp before handing Mary Margaret the empty cup.
As Mary Margaret moved to comb back Hannah's hair again, she heard Neal cry loudly from the downstairs bedroom. Almost immediately Hannah rolled away from her onto her side, curling up into a ball. The sudden movement caught Mary Margaret off guard, as she'd half expected Hannah to drift off to sleep any moment. She looked over at Emma, expecting to find her elder daughter just as surprised, but Emma seemed like she'd anticipated this turn of events.
Meeting her mother's gaze, Emma offered a small smile. She was fairly certain she knew what was going on with Hannah, though Mary Margaret clearly didn't. She'd have to talk to her about it later, but for now, she knew Mary Margaret needed to stay there with Hannah. "I'll get him," she said gently. "C'mon kid," she told Henry, moving toward the stairs.
"Thank you," murmured Mary Margaret. She stared at the back of her middle child's head, concerned. "Hannah?" If Hannah heard her, she gave no indication. "Hannah, honey, look at me."
Slowly the child shifted back onto her back, and Mary Margaret was horrified to see tears in Hannah's eyes. "What's wrong?"
Hannah shook her head lightly, but it was still enough to make her head throb. She didn't want to talk about it. She couldn't possibly explain to Mary Margaret just how she was feeling. "Nothing," she mumbled.
"It certainly isn't nothing Hannah." Gently, Mary Margaret used the pads of her thumbs to wipe away the tears that had spilled out. "Please talk to me."
"Neal n-n-needs you," whispered Hannah. "Y-you should go get him."
Mary Margaret shook her head. "Neal is fine with Emma. Right now, you need me."
"I'm okay… I'm n-not that s-s-sick."
"Are you trying to get rid of me, Hannah?" Mary Margaret asked, running her fingers through the girl's hair once more. She couldn't understand why Hannah would try to push her away, particularly when she was feeling miserable, and then suddenly it clicked. Gazing down at her daughter, she couldn't believe she hadn't seen it before. Hannah's behavior had been glaringly obvious since Neal's birth, and yet she hadn't understood until now. The realization made her feel like a horrible mother. "Listen to me," she said in a tender voice. "You are just as important as Neal is, and I love you just as much. I know he has monopolized my attention lately, and I am so sorry if I've ever made you feel like you aren't as cherished as he is."
She'd never expected to hear her mother acknowledge her feelings out loud – she'd really never expected her mother to realize just how she was feeling – but it chipped away part of the wall she'd put up to protect herself. "I know he's special, because he's still a baby and I wasn't with you as a baby…"
"You are just as important," Mary Margaret repeated, her tone more firm this time. She leaned over to kiss Hannah's forehead. "Get some rest. Your father will be here soon to check on you, and I'm staying right here."
"He doesn't need to check on me…" Hannah muttered through a yawn.
"He's coming anyway," Mary Margaret replied gently as she stroked Hannah's head. "Rest."
Tired as she was, she didn't want to fall asleep before Whale got there. It was unlikely that he would travel with any needles, but Hannah wasn't about to take any chances. Her eyes grew heavy, but in spite of Mary Margaret's insistence that Hannah sleep, the eleven-year-old forced herself to remain alert, inching her hands out from beneath the covers just long enough to rub her eyes again.
After several long minutes she heard the door open and close downstairs. She had her suspicions as to what was happening, but there was always the chance that Henry had decided to go outside, or that perhaps David had returned home, so Hannah held out hope. She listened to the sound of footsteps on the wood floors, then the sound changed as whoever it was climbed the stairs. The Henry theory was out, but David was still a possibility.
When she finally saw who it was, Hannah groaned softly.
"That's quite the welcome," Whale remarked, his tone light despite the sarcasm in his words.
"I'm fine," Hannah muttered. "I'm just a little under the weather."
"Hmm. Is that what you call having to leave school early because you have an impressive fever? 'Under the weather'?"
The continued sarcasm wasn't at all appreciated, but she didn't have the energy to banter. Instead, she pulled the covers tighter around her shoulders. "You can take my temperature, but that's it," she told him.
Whale claimed Mary Margaret's previous position on the bed. "Is that so?" he asked mildly as he pressed his hands lightly against Hannah's cheeks to gauge their warmth. Immediately he glanced back at Mary Margaret. "What was her temperature when you last checked?"
"Just over 102. I gave her some Children's Tylenol. That was about 10 minutes ago."
"How about at school?"
"David said it had been a little over 100."
Whale frowned. "I don't like how quickly her temperature rose. For now, check her temperature every hour. Hopefully the Tylenol will bring it down a little." He turned back to Hannah. "Do you hurt at all?"
She nodded her head softly.
"Where?"
"Everywhere."
He gently pressed his fingers against the sides of Hannah's neck. "Owww!" she protested at the sudden pain. Untangling her arms and hands from the covers, she grabbed at his hands to pull them away from her throat.
"Any other symptoms?" he continued, a bit concerned by Hannah's reaction. "Coughing? Sneezing? Congestion?"
"A little stuffy…" Hannah admitted with a frown as she pulled the covers up to her chin.
"I suspect Hannah has the flu," he said, glancing back at Mary Margaret. "If that's the case, it will just have to run its course. Make sure she gets plenty of rest and fluids, and you can give her the Tylenol every four hours to help with her fever and the aches and pains. However, if her temperature reaches 103, I want her at the hospital immediately." Whale turned once more to address Hannah. "Did you hear that, Hannah? If your fever gets worse, you're coming to the hospital and I won't hear any arguments about it."
Pouting, Hannah turned her head away. Hell would have to freeze over before she agreed to that. However, Whale reached out and gently nudged her chin back around with his fingertips until she had to look at him. "Do you understand me, Hannah?" he repeated, his voice firm but kind.
"I heard you!" she grumped, curling up on her side, her back toward him. She half expected to hear a few stern words over her less than polite response, but instead she felt Whale smooth back her hair.
"I'll be back to check on her tonight," Whale told Mary Margaret. "Call me if any new symptoms arise before then."
Hannah heard footsteps, and seconds later her father was standing in front of her on the opposite side of the bed. He crouched down so they were face to face. "Cooperate with your mom," he said gently. "I'll come by later to see how you're feeling." Leaning over, he kissed the top of her head. "I love you."
She was still miffed about his ultimatum, but it was nice to feel doted on, and it hadn't escaped Hannah's notice that he was being exceptionally patient with her given her attitude. "Love you too," she murmured.