Dust to Dust

Part II

Gretel sees it like this: their stories are so tightly intertwined they can't possibly be separated. They don't have their own stories, only their shared story.

"You shouldn't have done that," Hansel says, his voice only tired, not the slightest frustrated or angry. Gretel watches as he walks over to the desk in the corner, clearly trying to hide his limp for no apparent reason, and then leans against it. "It's not like we're not gonna kill the witch."

"I know that," Gretel replies, placing her hands on her hips, but Hansel's watch starts whirring and clicking before she can continue. For once, he doesn't turn away from her while he takes his injection, and she waits as he pulls a syringe from the pouch on his leg and plunges it into his thigh. His cracked lips scrunch into a grimace, but they change into a weak, lopsided smile so quickly, Gretel almost misses it. Once he's done, he settles back against the desk and looks at her expectantly, though his eyes lack their usual sparkle, so she heaves a sigh and continues, "But it needed to be said. For fuck's sake, Hansel, what else did you want me to do?"

Hansel shakes his head slowly but doesn't say anything. His eyes grow distant, and Gretel can't tell if he's lost in thought or if he's about to doze off on her again. Then, he shakes his head a second time and mumbles, "I dunno, sis, I just dunno. But I can take care of myself, alright? You know that, right?"

Gretel forces a smile. She can only hope he thinks it's genuine; he's always been the one who could hide what he was really thinking and feeling, not her. "Of course I do, but that doesn't mean I can't have your back, does it? Besides, I know you would've done the same for me."

"Yeah, you're right, I would've," Hansel snorts and says, and Gretel can detect a hint of wistfulness in his quiet voice. It almost breaks her heart. "Remember the time I almost shot off the Sheriff of Cassel's balls 'cause he tried to feel you up?"

"You shouldn't have done that," Gretel answers mischievously, using Hansel's own words against him. When Hansel just rolls his eyes, she adds, "I could've fucking lived without being chased by a pack of half-wild dogs out of town."

"Half-wild? Pretty sure they were wild," Hansel says, chuckling roughly. He looks like he's about to say more, and Gretel hopes he does because the only time she gets to see him smile or laugh or look like himself these days is when they talk about their past, but he doesn't; instead, he pushes himself off the desk with a low moan and makes his faltering way over to the wash basin on the other side of the room. Somehow, she resists the urge to help him.

Gretel sits down on the edge of the bed and pretends to leaf through the maps Mayor Adler gave her while Hansel cleans his face and then shrugs off his coat and vest, letting them fall to the floor. His ripped, stained undershirt hangs off of him loosely; once, a long time ago, he used to complain incessantly it was too tight in his shoulders. After watching him kick off his boots and limp over to the window to draw the blinds, Gretel asks carefully, "You're not going to sleep already, are you? I thought you'd want to go to the tavern with me so we can take full advantage of our unlimited free meals and drinks."

"'M sorry, sis," Hansel says as he drops to the ground beside the bed and sprawls out. This time, he grabs one of her discarded boots to use as his pillow. "'M just tired."

"That's fine," Gretel replies gently before reaching down on an impulse to ruffle his hair. He cracks open one eye and gives her a look that says "really?" and she laughs before ruffling his hair again, which only makes him groan in protest. "Good night, baby brother. See you bright and early in the morning."

"Hate mornin's," Hansel mutters blearily, letting his eye slip shut again. "We oughta burn 'em."

Forcing a laugh, Gretel gets to her feet, tiptoes around him and makes her way to the desk so she can study the maps without disturbing him. She doesn't mention he used to be the early riser of the two of them; whenever they stayed the night in a town, she'd wake up the next morning to find he had already gone to the market to replenish their supplies. Without fail, he always bought her a treat—an apple, a buchteln filled with jam, a chunk of chocolate. At first, Gretel teased him mercilessly about it, once even accusing him of trying to fatten her up like that old crone who started them on their path. Eventually, after she realized how happy it made him, she began to simply accept his gifts graciously. And that was just one of the many things Trier took from them.

Gretel shudders as the memories she's been trying so hard to suppress start flooding her mind at the mere thought of Trier. She glances over her shoulder to reassure herself that Hansel's still there and can't help but smile sadly after looking him over. That's when she resolves to go to the market before he wakes up and get him a new shirt (or two, he'd lost or ruined all but the one he's wearing long ago) and something special. Since anything sweet is out of the question, she decides she'll try to find him Maultaschen. It's one of his favorite foods, and they haven't had it since Berlin (actually, they haven't had much of anything to eat besides what they could hunt or trap, but that's beside the point).

When Gretel tires of looking over the maps, she decides to follow her brother's lead and turn in early for the night. She hadn't lied to Mayor Adler when she told him they had traveled a long way in a short time to reach his town, and she also knows she should sleep when she gets the chance. She doesn't bother to wash more than her face or even attempt to shake the dust from her clothes; the dust followed them inside anyway, and it coats the floor and every piece of furniture. Once she's settled in bed, she leans over and brushes her hand against Hansel's shoulder. He stirs, rolling into her touch, but doesn't wake, not even after she whispers, "Sleep well, Hansel."

Gretel closes her eyes and allows the darkness of sleep to claim her. And then the ugly yelling starts—people are screaming for someone to be burned—and her eyes snap open. She's back in that cursed square, being manhandled towards the stake, and she tries to scream herself but can't because she's been gagged. She can't accept she's going to die, not like this, not after she and Hansel dedicated their lives to saving the asses of pathetic fucking townspeople like this. She wishes she knew where her brother is, hopes (and will even pray if it will help him) he's safe, but she suddenly sees him out of the corner of her eye, lying in a heap a few feet from the stake, a pool of blood slowly building around him. She digs her feet into the ground, but the men are too strong for her, and she tries to scream again when, impossibly, Hansel lurches to his feet, pulling a pistol from his coat and firing a bullet directly through the sheriff's eye socket in one fluid motion. In seconds, everything descends into chaos, which Gretel plans on taking advantage of, but then there's a knife pressed firmly against her throat, close enough to send a dribble of blood trickling lazily down her neck, and…

Gretel's eyes bolt open, and it takes a second for her to realize she's not in Trier (and now she couldn't be happier to be in this dusty shithole). Without thinking, she leans over, grabs Hansel by the shoulder and shakes him. She immediately regrets it when he lets out an ugly moan and his eyelids flutter open, revealing bloodshot, unfocused eyes. "Gretel?" he murmurs. "You okay?"

Even though Gretel wants to tell Hansel to go back to sleep, she does owe him an explanation for waking him. And she does want to talk. "I had this dream…about Trier. I was back in the square, and you were…"

She's not surprised when Hansel cuts her off, his voice slurred but still final. "We don't talk about that." He's said that so many damn times about so many damn things—their parents, her being a witch, his relationship with Mina, Ben's death, Edward's capture, Trier. As the years have passed, Gretel has started to believe he does it more to protect himself than to protect her, and she wants to howl in frustration because, damn it, they need to talk about Trier. They also need to talk about the limp he can now barely hide, but that's a conversation for another time.

After a brief moment of silence, Hansel surprises her. Instead of telling her to go back to sleep like he always does, he grabs her hand, giving it a tight, almost defiant squeeze, and drawls, "If you keep lettin' it control your life, they win, sis. Don't let 'em fuckin' win."

Gretel doesn't know what to say to that so she doesn't say anything. On some level, she knows her brother is right, but she doesn't want to admit because, the way she sees it, on another, far more important level, level, he's wrong. What happened in Trier altered the course of their lives forever, just like what happened in that fucking gingerbread house straight out of hell did. Before she knows what's she's doing, she blurts out, "Hansel, they already won. The fucking bastards, they took…"

"Hey…" Hansel breaks in gently, and his grip on her hand tightens. When he continues, his voice is less than a whisper but still firm and so very certain. "They didn't take everything, sis. You know that. We still got each other."

A/N: Thanks for reading! I wasn't planning on writing from Gretel's POV when I started this story, but I decided to give it a shot and really enjoyed it. I think this story becomes more powerful when you get to see what Gretel thinks of her baby brother (yes, I decided to play Hansel as the younger of the twins just because I think that makes it a more interesting dynamic). As a quick reminder, I write Hansel and Gretel as very close siblings. There will be absolutely NO incest in this story (I just wanted to be clear on this point because, in the fandom, incest comes up a fair amount).

This story hasn't been doing as well as I would have liked, but I'm assuming it's because I'm a little (or a lot) late to the party. If you like it, I would truly appreciate you giving it a review, favorite or follow. I truly appreciate all three. Until next time. ~Moore12