Berkana - Chapter 11

It had been two days now.

Really, the zombie was thankful for those two days. After dropping Larden and Lenore off at the nearest hospital and receiving some interesting stares from the paramedics as Worth cheerily flipped them off on the way out, the focus had been entirely on keeping Hanna alive. Worth must have scrubbed practically every inch of Hanna's skin with disinfectant, cursing a mile a minute as he noted the torn skin on his arms and legs and scowling at the burns. He'd slapped on salves and sewn up what gashes he could, tugged gauze and bandages as tightly as possible and used the zombie and Conrad's extra hands as needed. In the end, however, all they could do was wait and hope that Hanna would make it.

So Conrad and the zombie had pushed aside the pile of junk on Worth's couch, and for once the doctor hadn't complained when they placed Hanna there. After that the zombie had grabbed one of the multiple mismatched, rickity chairs that Worth owned and had sat at Hanna's side. He hadn't left since, no matter who tried to convince him to take a break.

The dead didn't need to sleep and he'd already let Hanna out of his sight once. He wouldn't leave again until he was sure Hanna was okay.

For a while Conrad hovered, but then he had to get back to his work and deadlines and all that, and he thought the others should know the bundle of fire red hair was in bad straights, and he left. The first night since he had dropped by for a short time, but didn't stay. Maybe it was the fact that Hanna might not make it that drove him out - maybe he didn't want to be there when they found out they failed to save him. When he had worked so hard to keep Conrad alive.

So it was on the second night that he had shown up and decided to hang around for a while. He pulled up a box - a chair was probably less stable - near the couch and just sat, arms crossed as he watched.

Hanna managed to look a little better at this point. There was color in his face, at least, and the bleeding had stopped. He was scorched and black and burned and it was almost a godsend that he was able to sleep through all this, considering the pain he could have been in.

Worth had wandered in shortly after Conrad had, grumbling to himself as he checked Hanna over. "Still no change, then?" He muttered as he took the redhead's pulse.

The zombie merely shook his head, causing the doctor to grunt. "'Dun worry. He's been through worse... I know 's hard to believe, but it's true. He'll pull through," He said as he took a step back, putting his hands in his pockets. Whether he was trying to reassure the zombie or himself, he wasn't entirely sure.

Conrad tensed, snorting at the comment. "I don't think there's much worse than crispy fucking fried." He murmured.


"Feh, You'd be surprised. He's a tough kid." The doctor shrugged as he turned and began to walk away. "Don't knock anythin' over or whatever, ya still have to put my shit back when he wakes up."

Throughout the exchange, the zombie had said nothing. He simply sat there watching Hanna, gloved hands folded in his lap.


Conrad was about to snap a response about Worth putting his own damn shit back when he was readily distracted by the fact that there was a smile on Hanna's face. Not just a smile, but his eyes were open, if half lidded, and he was staring at Conrad and the zombie with an 'I knew you would be here' kind of face.

Orange eyes blinked in surprise, relief rushing over him in waves. Hanna was awake. Hanna was awake, which meant there was a chance he was going to be alright, and that was good. That was very good. So now what was he supposed to do?

There was a whole mess of things he wanted to say. The standard, utterly ridiculous "are you alright?" question that Hanna usually lied in response to, perhaps asking if the redhead wanted anything, apologies for the whole mess. He wanted to say all of this, but for some reason his throat constricted and he was left with nothing.

After a beat of silence, he finally managed to coax out a "Hey", as well as a small smile.

"Hey." Hanna murmured back. His voice was scratchy and hoarse, all raw and painful like strep-throat on steroids, so it sounded horribly funny, coaxing a chuckle from the redhead.

"You're a fucking idiot." Conrad's first words to Hanna were laden with a little more vocabulary and a little less happiness.

"Good't'see you too, Connie." Hanna chuckled again, and he would have outright laughed, but everything hurt, even the things he didn't know he had.

The zombie shook his head. Leave to Conrad to approach such a situation with anger first. "How are you feeling?" He asked as he looked to the redhead, raising a brow. He was going to assume it went along the lines of "like I got hit by a truck" but it seemed like common courtesy to ask.

"Still kinda dizzy," Hanna chuckled again. He missed laughing, really. He missed laughing with his friends more. "Considering, though, pretty good. Better'n dead." He paused after a moment, before flashing a sheepish grin. "No offense."

A soft chuckle rumbled through the zombie's throat, probably the first time he'd laughed in days. "None taken," He murmured. After that he simply sat in silence for a moment, seemingly at loss for what to say. What was he supposed to say? This was the first time he'd really seen Hanna and had spoken to him since the day he'd been kidnapped, the day this had all started. Seeing the redhead laying there, covered in burns and laughing weakly, it was such a sharp contrast to the the energetic twenty-four year old he'd been joking about Batman with days ago that it hurt.

He felt somewhat guilty, though he was aware it was somewhat illogical. Of course it wasn't his fault that Larden had kidnapped him, wasn't his fault Lenore had nearly killed Hanna, but even so...  thinking back to the beginning of it all, to that moment where he'd let the vampire in...

The zombie let out a sigh as he looked to Hanna, mentally counting each scrape, cut and bruise. He'd seen them all so much already, but now the redhead was awake and they were there and he had to make note of them, because they were his too. They should have been his.

"I'm sorry," He finally muttered, voice barely audible.

"Woah-hey, don't be sorry." Hanna tried to push himself up onto his elbows, even though this caused the room to spin violently in his vision for a moment, he managed to prop himself up against the arm of the couch. "What'd'you have to be sorry for? You kicked ass back there."

The undead man blinked in confusion as he looked to Hanna. "I didn't do anything, Hanna. That was you. All I really did was let Larden in and start all this mess," He said, shaking his head.

"Yeah but... Larden's not a real bad guy, so him kidnapping you was totally not your fault. 'N Then you were there, and you were running up the stairs all badass, like-like Batman!" Hanna sounded as excited as his messed up throat would let him. "Really, I'm just kinda glad you came for me."

During this exchange, Conrad rose, murmuring something about getting Worth, and left to go find him. He felt like he wanted to leave the zombie and Hanna alone for a moment, so getting the Doctor was a good excuse.

The zombie shook his head at the redhead's words. He supposed Hanna was right about Larden, but he still felt he hadn't done nearly enough. Regardless, Hanna didn't seem to be about to let him blame himself, so he supposed he'd just have to make it up how he always did: By patching Hanna up and helping him pull through.

"Well, I couldn't have done it without Larden," He murmured as he sat back and shrugged. "I'm just glad you held on long enough for us to get there, and that the girl didn't kill you." The zombie fell silent for a moment, then looked to Hanna again and rose an eyebrow. "I meant to ask... what happened to you two after the fire started? We found you unconscious and her covered in burn marks in her room. How did you get free?" He inquired.

Hanna leaned back, looking at the ceiling. "I helped her stop herself by sealing her magic..." He shrugged a little. "I mean she's gonna have to re-learn all her magic from scratch all over again and those burns won't go away but, hey, it's all turned out nice so far and she wanted to be stopped anyway, so yeah." He smiled. Yeah, accordingly, he did kind of fuck Lenore up by stopping her, but at least this time he didn't come out of it with a huge failure on his head, or her's. Everyone lived through it, which was a step in the right direction in his opinion.

There was a moment of comfortable silence, before Hanna asked a very quiet question. "Hey, Hamlet... you ever.. ya'know, resent the fact that I can't give you a name or help you get your memories back?" He was still looking at the ceiling, but it was easy to read that the idea was bothering him, just a little. "I mean, I think Galahad is pretty cool, but... yeah. Do you?"

Orange eyes blinked in confusion and the zombie simply stared at Hanna for a moment. "What?" No, of course not. I told you before... I think I am very different than what I was before, and it's easier to forget than be forgotten. What happened before now..." He trailed off as he gazed at his hands, considering his next words.

"...What happened then doesn't matter. Not anymore. What matters now is you. Nothing else."

Hanna closed his eyes and smiled, feeling more like he normally did moreso now that the question - and the images, oh god, the images of his friend ripping into his head like a rabid wolf, his blood everywhere - now that the images could be wiped from his head. Because his friends were better than what Lenore thought they were. They were his friends after all.

"Yeah, we're best bros forever." Hanna laughed, and it sounded like a laugh because all the talking had worked his throat good and well into working with him, if only for a little while. The friendly, comforting moment was apperciated for a few seconds until his stomach growled.

"Manohman, I'm starving!" He chuckled, the vulnerable moment within him entirely vanished from his person like it was never there. "I haven't really eaten since Lenore had me for that tea-party thing the first day and I didn't even get any cakes, just tea, and she had some really good looking cakes, too."

The zombie blinked. Then came that familiar smile as he shook his head, finally standing up from the chair he'd been occupying for three days. Typical Hanna. "Well, I'll see if I can find anything edible in Worth's kitchen then. He's bound to have something." With those words he turned and made to leave.

It was then that Worth poked his head in. He glanced about, the smoke from his cigarette filtering into the room. "Is he--" He paused as his eyes fell upon the redhead. Then they narrowed dangerously, a low growl coming from his lips as he stepped fully into the room and folded his arms. "Whatdya know, the little bastard is awake," He muttered.

Hanna tried to disappear amid his shoulders. "H-hey, Worth!" He tried to ignore the glare of certain death coming from the furred man. It was like he had gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar by a very irate mother hen.

"Don't you 'Hey Worth', me, you fucking brat!" The doctor snarled as he stomped in, jabbing a long, greasy finger in Hanna's direction. "What the fuck!? How the hell do you manage to do this shit!? First you come in here whining to me about your fucking heterosexual life partner going missing, then the next thing I know there is a Goddamn zombie walking in looking like someone killed his damned puppy and I hear you went and fucking gave yourself up!? The fuck is wrong with you!?" He roared, throwing his hands up in the air as he stopped before the couch.

"Do you just not own a single Goddamn bit of some semblence of a sense of fucking self preservation!? What, did you see the situation and go 'Gee, this looks like a fan-fucking-tastic time to get that Self-Sacrificing Hero thing done with'!? JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!"

Hanna's grin faltered a little. "No." He murmured. "But what was I gonna do, let someone else die? Besiiidessss, everyone's okay now and isn't that what really matters? And, there weren't any ghosts this time, or squirrels." Hanna thought maybe he could distract the irate doctor with the things he'd managed to avoid lately.

Worth would not be placated that easily. "True, there weren't any damned ghosts this time. Instead I got to deal with half the skin missing from your fucking arms and legs! How the  fuck didja manage that? Did the girl make you wrestle with a goddamned cheesegrater!?" He snapped as he jabbed a finger at Hanna's bandaged arms.

"She, uh, kinda bound me to her chair with magic and it was kinda cool cause my skin was wood and the wood was my skin at parts but I didn't think it was as strong as it was so when I tried to undo myself once I didn't exactly do it right." Hanna grinned sheepishly. Oops. He forgot he did that to himself.

Dark eyes just stared at him for a moment. Then Worth proceeded to smack himself in the forehead with his palm, grumbling all the while. "You dumbass," He muttered, but it was a bit calmer than before. "What the fuck am I gonna do w' you, huh?" With those words he began to check Hanna over, not exactly gently but there was notably less manhandling than usual. "I'd better na' ever have to deal with this shit again, you got me? Next time you run into a fucking demon brat from hell, you find some other way to placate her sorry ass."

The zombie, whom had been watching this all in silence from the doorway, shook his head and turned away so Worth and Hanna couldn't see another smile coming to his face. Acting mad was the equivalent of Worth offering affection, and if his rants were any indication, he had of course been more worried than he'd let on. The undead man had no reason to worry, if Worth was that mad there was no way in hell Hanna wasn't going to make it through.

"Yeah, alright-owowowowow!" Hanna didn't appreciate Worth examining his arms, which stung to the touch, even under the bandages. Having no skin on the back of your arms wasn't fun, at all.

"Now that the idiot's awake, I'm going back home before dawn." Conrad said, beginning for the door. He didn't seem too terribly grumpy, though, and this brought a smile to Hanna's face, which Conrad scowled at. Hanna knew better than to let the scowl fool him. He knew Conrad was glad he was okay, before the mask of irritation. And Conrad knew better than to think Hanna was really stupid enough to not know, but he scowled at Hanna all the same before turning to leave.

And he stopped as he nearly stepped on a clean brown envelope that was apparently slipped under the door at some point in the night. He knew that much because, for one, it was clean, and two, there was a tiny note written on the front of the package where an address might have been.

"Worth - Thank you.

~L."

Conrad held the package up, wondering what in hell's god damn name would be in this package that Worth would like. It could've been from Lamont, but the man usually made his deliveries personal.

"Hey, Conrad, what's that?" Hanna leaned forward to see past Worth at what Conrad had in his hands.

Before Conrad could answer, Worth stomped over. "Gimme that, princess," He growled as he snatched the package out of the vampire's hands. He then waves it violently in the air, the envelope flopping slightly to punctuate his next rant. "Didn' yet damn mom teach ya not ta' go through people's mail? It's not polite, Christ!" With those words he tore open then envelope, grumbling all the while. This grumbled trailed off into silence, however, as he actually got a look at the contents of the envelope. His cigarette nearly dropped from his mouth as he stared at it before his lips spread into a terrifying grin.

"Well, well, well..." He murmured as he closed the envelope and tucked it into his back pocket. "Whatdya know. Rescuin' little brats does in fact pay off. I'm thinkin' we may have t' keep those two around, if only to make up for all the bills a certain someone hasn't paid." Dark eyes went to Hanna as he spoke, making it abundantly clear just who he was talking about.

"Wait, wait, what's in the envelope?" Hanna asked, still too weak to get off the couch but strong enough to be incredibly curious. "Who's it from?"

"Larden, I assume?" The zombie spoke up, as while he trusted Worth he'd still chosen to remain in the room for a bit.

The doctor shrugged. "Larden, Legolas, whatever-the-fuck ya wanna call him. He promised he'd pay and fer once I got fuckin' paid, isn't that all that matters?"

"You got paid?" Hanna seemed rather excited.

"Maybe you can hire a maid now to scrub the shit from your floor." Conrad commented, crossing his arms.

Worth outright laughed at this. "Fuck no. I appreciate m' healthy layer of grime, thanks. Besides Connie, as much as I know you're dying for me t' offer you a job that involves you gettin' down on your knees in a dress on m' floor, it ain't gonna happen. I dun swing that way, especially fer your tight little ass. Sorry t' ruin your fantasies," He sneered, flashing Conrad a terrible grin.

Conrad balked at him for a moment, before his face turned into one of total rage. "I didn't mean me you sick fuck!" He snapped. Without anything else to add, and realizing that fuck, he was going to have to run if he wanted to get home before dawn, he left, slamming the door as hard as he could on the way out.

The doctor watched him leave, snickering all the while. He then glanced back to see the zombie staring at him. "What? It's been a shitty couple of days. Gotta get my kicks somehow," He shrugged as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Those orange eyes stared at him for another moment, then the zombie shrugged as well. "I'm going to try to find something edible to feed Hanna. Do you mind?"

Worth shook his head as he flopped into a chair. "Whatever. Jus' this once I dun' care, but if you touch my beer I will fucking kill you again, ya got me?" He said, gesturing lazily to the hallway where the stairs to his kitchen led.

The zombie raised a brow, amusement in his eyes as he glanced to Hanna. "I'll be back in a bit, alright?"

"Don't worry about me, Spock. I'll be alright." Hanna smiled, and his words not only held a promise for the next few minutes, but for the recovery in general. He'd be alright.

His friend heard the words and nodded, another smile coming to his face as he turned and made his way down the grimy hallway, ignoring Worth's continued growls and the chaos that was likely to resume. It was mildly worrisome as always and of course Hanna wasn't okay just yet... but Worth yelling, Conrad getting annoyed, they were all small pieces of normalcy that had been missing over the past few days. Hearing them now and after the exchange that had just happened, the zombie had to believe that Hanna was telling the truth.

He would be alright.

---

She missed him.

Lenore's days spent at the hospital had been restful enough. She'd been given everything she needed, given whatever she asked, and the doctors were always friendly and did their best to be gentle whenever she was awake and they were poking and prodding. No one had said a word about the new marks that covered most her upper body, and she was sure that had something to do with Larden. She was sure most of it had something to do with Larden. The nurses had mentioned "her nice older brother" through a series of girlish giggles and mentioned things like him signing all the papers and visiting when she'd been asleep, but she herself hadn't seen him.

It was good to be cared for and she was glad to be healing, but she missed him.

It was this that made Lenore so eager to leave... well, that and the fact that she'd never been terribly good at sitting still for days on end. Fortunately, after a few days she was declared healthy enough to leave and was discharged with a few smiles and a wheel-chair wheeled out the door.

Now she stood there just outside the hospital, her golden eyes squinting out into the night. The soft, warm lights of the hospital shown out into the parking lot, casting all sorts of shadows. These things did little to dim the stars, which glittered above in a blanket of black and sparkling points of light. It was very pretty, but the night itself felt rather cold. The ten-year old swallowed as she hugged her bandaged arms around herself, her new black dress fluttering in the night breeze.

They'd let her out... so that meant he had to be waiting here. He wouldn't have just her alone... right?

She hadn't seen the bike-rack, nor the figure leaning solemnly on it. Larden was watching the stars roll by, arms crossed on the rack's surface, not looking anywhere but up.

After making sure Lenore was cared for, and Worth was paid off, he had gone back to the house. It was gone. Literally, all gone. He visited at night, and managed to pick through the rubble himself, finding a charred picture of the family here, a runny painting there. He picked a few things that weren't entirely blackened in the blaze out and took them away, packing them in a suitcase he bought at a local store. Also inside the suitcase were a few new dresses for Lenore (and other womanly things like bras and such, ohgod Larden did not like shopping in the lady's section anymore) and his old red vest. He had bought himself a large tattered black sweater from a local thrift shop just for the hell of it, which he was now wearing. Just for the sake of wearing something different - moving on.

The suitcase sat to his right, black and sleek yet plump and slightly cuffed from his moving it around. On top sat one of Lenore's stuffed animals that he managed to retrieve from the blaze.

He watched the sky with a sad smile on his face. He couldn't help her. He couldn't help her when she needed him to depend on, he couldn't save her from the fire. He lost her for a time, and he was scared that he would lose her again. He wanted to move forward, but he didn't know how.

He did know one thing - he missed her. He'd been told she'd been awake when he wasn't there, when he was out running errands and making sure she had a bed to come home to. He cared too much and was gone too much and he hadn't really seen her once.

He wondered if she was the same girl he knew before. With the thought his head drooped from the stars, his bangs falling over his eyes, and if he could shed tears he would've been crying.

Golden eyes looked from the parking lot to the bike rack, and that's when Lenore finally spotted him. His back was to her and he was wearing a new sweater, but she would recognize those ears and that ponytail anywhere. If there was any doubt, there was a very familiar stuffed crow sitting on that suitcase. No amount of scorch marks could have changed the fact that it was hers.

"Larden!" The dark-haired girl called out. She immediately broke into a run, her footsteps echoing through the empty parking lot. She slowed to a stop roughly ten feet from the vampire, panting for a moment as she reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes. Apparently "discharged" hadn't necessarily meant "let's go for a brisk jog!".

Once she came to a stop, Lenore simply stood there, feeling at loss for what to say. She wanted so badly to close the distance, to run those last few feet and just collapse and hug him like always, to hear those same whispered promises that everything was going to be okay, but she couldn't. Not yet.

She wanted things to be like before, but of course they couldn't be. The burns flaring up from underneath those bandages were a painful remainder of that.

And so she stood there as she caught her breath, struggling to find words. Finally she managed to pull on the smile she'd always managed to pull on in school, the one that seemed charming and innocent and was always available at a moment's notice. "I'm... I'm glad to see you made it out okay. And Arma did too, apparently. T-thanks for saving her." She managed to keep a relatively calm tone, but the slight stutter at the end gave a bit of it all away.

What was she supposed to do now?

Larden turned, smiling softly. He didn't move to Lenore, but he did bend down to pick up the suitcase and the stuffed bird.

"Guten abend, Lenore." He bent down on one knee, setting the stuffed bird under his arm and opening the suitcase. "The house... is, well, vanished. I did... save Arma, and... well, I don't know if you want to save this anymore." He murmured, pulling out a charred photograph. It was of her and her parents and Larden when she was a child. He took an unneeded breath as he stared at the photograph for a moment.

"I... I must confess something, Lenore. When you were a still so young... I lied. To you and ihr mutter. He hurt me, and I didn't tell you. I didn't know what you'd think of your father... I didn't know what you'd think of me. I should have told you the truth early on, but you loved him so much, I... I couldn't." Larden felt his grip on Arma tighten a bit as he snapped the suitcase closed. "I don't know what you think of me now. I couldn't help you when you needed me, for bad, or for good." He sat down on the ground, Arma and the photo in his lap. He continued in a small voice, absorbed in the photo and the doll. "I don't know what I think of myself, to be Fred... er, to be truthful. I... for a while, I didn't know ...if you were able to be helped. I thought you'd... you'd become your father, and I didn't know how to get you back. I was.... I was scared, Lenore." He nearly crumpled the photo in his hands, which were shaking. "I was terrified that I'd failed you. That I'd failed your mother. She said I was to take care of you. Always. I didn't...."

Larden couldn't finish his sentence. He felt so vulnerable in front of Lenore, when in the past he'd tried to avoid setting himself up like that in front of her. In the moonlight, bent over a doll and a photo, he looked old. He looked worn out. He looked miserable.

Golden eyes widened as they stared down at Larden. She simply stood in silence for a bit, watching. Then she took a few steps forward and knelt down in front of the vampire, her black dress pooling around her knees and protecting them from the cold of the concrete. "Larden... what are you talking about?" She asked. Bandages fingers reached out to take the vampire's shaking hands, nearly hiding the photo of her parents from view.

The ten-year old flashed a soft, sad smile. "Lar-Lar... why are you apologizing? Even know... you idiot, you didn't do anything wrong. You did everything you could... and even now, you're bringing me all this?" She shook her head as she let her arms drop, folding her hands in her lap. "I don't deserve you. I don't deserve any of this."

She took a deep, shaky breath, closing her eyes. "I... if anyone should be apologizing, it's me. I know that now. I did... a lot of awful things. I just... I wanted to hurt people, I don't know. He was gone and I wanted people to understand how I felt, to understand what he taught me... so I did things. Terrible things. Unforgivable things, and my father was the same. He... no, I excused them with a lot of stupid ideas about it making us better, used things like my position and my talents. I used my parents deaths as an excuse for my actions... but it was wrong, all of it. There is no excuse, because we were wrong."

Those bandaged fingers gently worked across Larden's coaxing them to release their death grip on the photo so she could take it. "Daddy... my father, he was wrong, Larden. I should have realized that. I'm the top of my class, how could I be that stupid?" She gave a bitter laugh here as her grip twisted around the battered photo. "You were hurting. You were hurting all that time. He was hurting you, and you were just trying to protect my mother and I by not saying anything. And then when he was gone, I hurt you too. I... I became just like you said I was."

Lenore paused here, her throat was tightening and she was finding it hard to breathe. She blinked, trying to clear the tears that were welling up in her eyes as she looked back to Larden. "I'm so sorry... I'm sorry I didn't realize. It's no excuse for how I treated you and everyone else, there isn't any excuse for that. I just... I don't know why... I just couldn't stop, I couldn't let him down, but he was wrong. It was all wrong and I..." She trailed off, shoulders shaking as she swallowed a sob. She would not break down. She had no right to break down.

So she didn't. She blinked back the tears and forced her head up, clenched her teeth to try to keep her jaw steady. Shaking fingers reached out to force Larden to look her in the eye. "I'm sorry, Larden. I know my words can't change anything, it can't fix all the ways I hurt you and it can't change all the things he did and it can't change all the stupid lies I followed so blindly, but it's all I have. I have no right to even have you anymore, and I won't ask for that. But I will say this."

"You have never failed me, Larden. Don't you ever, ever think that."

There was a seconds pause, and Larden quite suddenly threw his arms around Lenore. If he could have cried, he would have sobbed. Good and hard and long because Lenore was the girl he knew again. She was the same girl that knew better than to hurt people, the smart girl, the girl he'd tried to coax out of her shell for so long, out from under the thumb of her father and he really wished he could cry because his lungs ached with the dry sobs they were trying to produce even without tears. He hugged her and then pulled away to kiss her forehead before hugging her again.

"Mein Gott, Lenore, mein Gott, sorge ich mich nicht, dass Sie mich verletzen, wusste ich, dass Sie es nicht meinten, ich bin gerade so froh, dass Sie ganz richtig sind und Sie bedauern und Sie nicht Ihr Vater sind, und sagen Sie bitte nicht, dass Sie mich nicht verdienen, weil das bedeuten würde, dass wir einzeln sind, und ich weiß, dass wir wie das beide jämmerlich sein würden." The German was rapid and in a soft, shaking voice. "I'm just glad you're alright, and here, and mein gott, please don't say you don't deserve me. Because that means you won't stay."

Lenore's eyes widened in shock as those familiar arms pulled her close. Sure he wasn't warm and the new sweater smelled a bit strange but this was it. This was her Larden and this was where she belonged. A small, strangled sort of whimper came from her throat as her bandaged hands came up to clutch at the new sweater, as familiar, comforting German filled her ears and she was brought back to times when the biggest problem had been something as ridiculous as a skinned knee.

The dark-haired girl took a deep breath, then buried her face in the woven material of the sweater, savoring the mixture of Larden's familiar scent and the new. "I'm not going anywhere," She spoke, and thought she was struggling to stay strong her voice was cracking, the tears were coming and she was having trouble fighting them back. "Why would I go anywhere? You're all I have, Larden. You're everything."

Larden put a hand on Lenore's hair and stroked it softly. "I don't know, Lenore, I don't know, I just don't want you to be gone. I want you to be Lenore, the Lenore I know. The Lenore who's knees I bandaged and who's dolls I fixed. The Lenore who I climbed trees with. The smart and talented girl who was first and foremost my friend. I've got her back now and I don't want her to go." Larden held the girl close, wrapping himself tightly around her and pulling her into his lap. "Ich liebe dich... you're my family, Lenore. You're my family here."

Lenore was shaking as Larden spoke, simply listening as she curled up close. She wanted to say something but she couldn't seem to think beyond those fingers stroking through her hair or choke anything past the lump in her throat. Finally, however, she did manage something. "I... you're my family too."

Apparently that was the breaking point. The ten-year old let out a soft, broken sob as her bandaged fingers twisted at the cloth in her hands, tears streaming down her permanently marked face. There were no more words and apologies, merely an outpouring of emotion that had remained bottled up for an impossibly long time. There was so much still to do and understand, so much to deal with, so much pain she'd bottled up and confusion and anger at everything that had happened. She knew it was stupid and she wasn't the type to cry but she was just so relieved that Larden was okay and she had him back and he had forgiven her and oh things were most certainly not okay and she still had so much to work through and God she didn't even know where to start. It was stupid to cry because she was strong...

But if only Larden saw her when she was weak, she supposed that was okay.

Larden simply held her, glad the girl he once knew was back in his arms. He whispered things in her ear, soothing words in German and in English, various forms of "it'll be alright" and other things. Eventually, he stood, lifting her into his arms with him, having grabbed Arma and the photo in his free hand before looping his arm through the suitcase handle. He was heading away from the hospital and towards the part of the city where Conrad lived, the artsy part, where he'd rented an apartment for them to stay in.

Lenore's sobs began to quiet as Larden walked, slowly dwindling until finally all that was left was the smallest of sniffles. "Lar-Lar," She finally spoke after a block or so of companionable silence. "What does 'Ich liebe dich' mean?" She asked, completely mangling the pronunciation.

Larden held Lenore close, smiling brightly and kissing the girl's forehead again affectionately.

"Ich liebe dich means... I love you."