I quickly realized that I was able to move once again, and took full advantage of this privaledge by popping my neck. In doing so, my eyes were cast downwards slightly, and I saw a nice, although dated, photo of a family. The two people on either end appeared to be in their mid-thirties, or older. The man had a huge grin on his face, showing proudly his crooked teeth. The woman, whom I assumed to be his wife, was standing to the right, her hair in a ponytail, smiling a tiny bashful smile. Her arm was attempting to reach its way around the wide shoulders of a certain child I recognized as a younger Hanna. He was obviously a teen, although age and Hanna was often a very confusing concept. He appeared at the time the photo had been taken to be about fifteen, probably older. I chuckled inwardly when I realized that Hanna was probably born looking fifteen; but there was something...Different...About that particular smile. Held in comparison to the smiles I knew him to wear, this was a sad mediocre imitation. A mere grimace next to his patented Goofy Grinn™.

I stopped in mid-thought, however, when I saw movement in the corner of my eye. I spun round, and as if I'd imagined him, Hanna stood only a short distance away. I waited in the silence, waiting for him to notice my presence. When he didn't, I must confess I felt a little offended.

"Hanna?"

No answer. Within moments I was faced with an obvious conclusion; I could not interact with a memory past. I could only watch in silence, and so I did. But I did not approach Hanna; I had noticed in my thought the couple in the picture. Their ages were more obvious, giving me a better time frame to compare the photo with. They appeared to be late thirties by now, I suppose. Although I am constantly surrounded by humans, I think my ability in guessing their ages are...Weak. But there the couple sat, their posture bent in an obvious exhaustion. They seemed to be heavily debating, and I took a sidestep to better overhear their conversation, while also trying to keep Hanna in my sight.

"-seen him at it. He watches Claus. Do you think he knows…?"

"No, Matilda, I don't. Hanna has been this way since we took him home three years ago. He's not changing. I want him out. Claus is only four months old, I won't risk this child, too."

"I think so, too, Hank, but is sending him away really the best choice right now…? Do you remember what his parents said?"

"Sure, - He attracts all sorts of ghosts or something - I don't believe it. Hanna's just...Sickly. I don't need him around Claus."

I listened until I couldn't bear to hear anymore. I knew Hanna had heard exactly what I had, with such a short distance between us, but he seemed unaffected by his adoptive parents' words. He seemed…Adapted to them. I hesitated. I knew I wasn't supposed to be hearing these things…But I hadn't chosen to, had I? Hanna wanted me to know these things.

I watched with heavy unease as time sped on, and every night Hanna would check on young Claus. Until one night, he actually walked in. I noticed right away; he had a concealed gun, I could see it catching the glint of the flourescent light. I dashed to the doorway from my seat on the hall floor, pausing only when I heard a thud. I covered my mouth in horror, not daring to look inside the small child's bedroom.

But I had made an error. Hanna had not fired a gun. Yet. The thud had come from the front door, which I stood in close enoug proximity to misunderstand what I had heard. I stood frozen in absolute dead fear as it burst open, and three men clothed in black stepped unwelcomed inside the home of Hank, Matilda, Hanna and Claus Cross. Fear bubbled in my stomach when I rememberd Matilda and Hank were out. The men were obviously thieves. The one in the middle directed the other two men in opposite directions while he walked down the hall Hanna had been in only seconds ago.

I watched with sickened horror as he creeped into the room in which Hanna stood with a gun. I bolted in, finally, to see Hanna with a gun to his own temple, obviously surprised by the burglar, who now had a gun pointed at the sixteen-year-old Hanna's spine. I watched, processing the scene in slow-motion. In Hanna's turn, the criminal fired his gun, and Hanna fell to the ground, although I hadn't seen where the bullet entered the skin, if at all. I wanted to kill that man, I wanted to so badly, but I knew I could not interact with a memory. That didn't stop me from kneeling next to Hanna, panicking, watching him in pain that I could not dull. The thief quickly silenced the baby Claus as well. But Hanna wasn't done yet; With what strength he had, Hanna used the gun he'd entered the room with to shoot the burglar in the foot, who promptly kicked my surely dead friend on the ground for several minutes. He and his fellows left several moments later with most of Hanna and his family's belongings. I watched on the ground next to Hanna as he seemed to become less and less of this world.

Hours of hellish suffering later, Hanna's parents came home from their dinner. They found their two sons, one barely alive, one dead. In their grieving rage, they blamed Hanna for the death of their son, which was obviously misdirected mourning. Further investigation proved that the gun left behind had Hanna's fingerprints on it, and gunshot residue. But there was one horrible twist: The bullet that the murderer fired at Hanna could not be found, and since Hanna only had that one bullet, which the runaway robber carried in his foot, there was no possible way to determine who had actually shot Claus Cross. His murder went unsolved. As for the burglary, I could just hear Hanna's adoptive parents talking to investigators,

"He has horrible friends! He must have let them in! He killed our baby!"

...

I watched the rest of Hanna's life in barely understandable and inaudible segments; his being sent to a mental hospital, his escape, meeting Worth and Lamont, and many other things. But the world began to fade to black again as Hanna sat in the park, looking almost like the Hanna I know today, though he still looked diseased, and he was holding his chest as though he could not breathe. There were dark circles under his eyes and he was shaking. I was able to catch those few moments of that final memory; a ghost stood behind the quivering Hanna, and just when the blur began to wash over the seen, I saw the ghost of an aged, and hideously angry, Claus Cross wrap his ghostly pale hands around his brother's neck.

I woke up on the floor a while later. Hanna was obviously exhausted from the use of that rune. I stared at him in disbelief for a few moments, before he passed out from pain and weakness. It took me a few moments to gather myself, unable to comprehend the things that had just happened to us. But, just as I promised, I picked Hanna up in his sleep and left the apartment.

Upon opening the door to Worth's I was met with a slew of his usual obscenities, though I found them to be sense of home more than anything else. He had been throwing glass around, I noticed after I took a quick glance at the floor. I actually had to dodge as an old vial zoomed over my head. He didn't seem to notice as I set foot in his dingy office. It wasn't until I cleared my throat that Worth acknowledged my presence.

"Damnit, Hanna, I ain't giving ya any of my surgery stuff! Quit askin!"

When I didn't respond, Worth spun round to make a comment on how silent Hanna was, when he noticed the unconscious twenty-four year old man unconscious cradled in my arms. He rolled his eyes and lit up a cigarette.

"Oh, shit, Zombie. What, didya go ghost hunting again? You two the ghost busters now?"

I was silent for a moment. I didn't know how to respond to Worth; Hanna usually did the talking.

"Hanna – he's sick. He was vomiting – I think there was blood in it, and he's been hallucinating."

Worth didn't seem stricken by realization until I had brought up the hallucinations. He spun round with a scalpel in his hand and pointed at Hanna with it, trying to look casual. But, and I could be wrong, was that worry on his face?

"What'd he talk 'bout when he was loony? ...You didn't see anythin' did ya, Zombie?" Worth asked, taking a hit of his cigarette, and spinning his finger beside his ear. The universal sign for craziness, I assumed.

"Does it matter? No, I didn't see it - He was talking about someone named Claus…What? I don't understand – how do you know who Claus is?" I asked, beginning to get frustrated with all the information to which I was ignorant, even with the bewfound comprehension of Hanna's childhood. Though I wasn't about to share that with the stingy doctor. Worth seemed deep in thought, an expression on his face which almost frightened me.

"Nothin' I can do fer 'im. Take 'im home, watch 'im, he'll be fine. Now get out." Worth ordered, his face unusually blank. I also noticed a lack of obscenities in his speech.

"Wh- you're just going to let him get worse-?" I began, cut off by an earsplitting shout -

"Get out! Get the fuck out!"

Trips to Worth are a pain in the butt to type!
Sorry for the late update! It's pretty funny actually; I'm sick now.
Thanks for sticking with me and reviewing!
This chapter was really hard for me to write, but the next ones will only get better! Promise!

So anyway, Hanna Cross is Tessa's, but Claus Cross is mine.