UnHinged - Chapter 3

In Which There Are Doctors and Tuna Sandwiches.


The bed was cold when Casey woke up the next morning. Sunlight streamed in the balcony doors, filtering through the curtains and casting a soft light against the floor. The clock said 12:21 in its large red block numbers. Casey yawned, stretching his arms out and taking up the entire bed, before sitting up. "God, what a night." He murmured, rubbing his eyes. After a moment, he peered over the side of the bed, expecting to see Hanna still sleeping.

Except, the pillow-mattress was empty. Hanna wasn't there.

Casey fought the urge to swear. Hanna was probably just somewhere in the house. He probably got up with Ples and had breakfast or something. He might be watching TV. He could be taking a shower. He wasn't necessarily gone. Casey drew in a deep breath. Yes, his heart was racing. Yes, for some reason, he felt panicked like mad. But that wasn't going to help him if something did happen. If Hanna had wandered outside and gotten lost, or had run off, panicking was not going to help him. Besides, Hanna was to desperately attached to Casey to stray far, right?

Right?

So, he pulled on a clean pair of pants and changed shirts, before heading out into the apartment proper. The hallway was clear. "Hanna?" He called, but all that greeted him was silence. The bathroom down the hall was empty, as well as the guest bedroom. The kitchen was warm from Ples's breakfast, but also clear, besides a note about sour milk and getting more later. The main living area was also clear, the TV off and cool. Casey poked his head out into the apartment hallway, and once again was met with nothing.

"Shit." He closed the door and leaned against it. Okay, if Hanna had actually run away, he couldn't have gone far. It was probably only an hour or so at most that he would have been gone.

But then, something hit him, and he raced back to the bedroom. The balcony door was closed, but that meant nothing. The balcony itself connected both bedrooms, so it was entirely possible…

When he threw open the door, he sighed with pure relief. Hanna was sitting on the sturdy balcony railing, one leg swinging gently underneath him. The redhead looked up and smiled softly.

"Hey, Edwardo, you, uh, you look stressed, you okay?" He asked, as Casey walked over and put his arms around the redhead's shoulders.

"I'm fine. I just got a little worried that I couldn't find you, it's nothing." Casey tucked Hanna's head under his chin, and the redhead giggled. Yeah, Casey thought. A little worried my ass.

"You act my dad, like I'm gonna up and leave." Hanna leaned back into the comforting embrace, watching the city beneath them. It sprawled out before their eyes, like it was offering itself to them, wishing them its gods. Skyscrapers kissed the noontime sun, while smaller buildings seemed to roll along with the great, expansive hills on the horizon. Smells of hot dogs and exhaust drifted up to them, wrapping them in the city's hot embrace. A car alarm sounded in the distance.

"It's okay if you get worried, though." Hanna said. His eyes drifted away from the city view and into their own place, his feet their focus. "I know I worry people." He wriggled his toes against the cold railing. Casey smiled at the words, chest heaving with a happy sort of sigh.

"Did Ples get you breakfast?" Casey asked, pulling away to put his elbows on the railing and watch Hanna. The redhead didn't respond for a moment, and when he did he didn't look up.

"Yeah." He nodded, absently, eyes empty. Suddenly, life rushed back into his face and he scrambled on the railing, nearly toppling into the abyss of the city in his haste to get down from his perch. "Oh man oh man oh man shitshitshit!"

"What?" Casey helped Hanna not fall to his death, only to be left behind as the redhead rushed for the door inside.

"I was supposed to meet my doctor today andddd I'm so late." Hanna explained as he rushed for the door. Casey grabbed his keys on the way out, locking the door behind them as they exited the apartment. "He is gonna kill me so much."

"He's not going to actually kill you…?" Casey tried to make that sound less like a question and failed, especially seeing the worry and anxiety behind Hanna's eyes.

"You do not know him, Thomas." Hanna raced down the stairs, two at a time, and nearly killed himself on the last few when he tripped, sliding down on his rear. He hopped back up so quickly, however, that Casey didn't even have time to ask him if he was alright. All he could manage to do was keep up as Hanna raced down the sidewalk, past the cruiser.

"Wait, Hanna, I have the—" Casey started. Taking a car would get him there twice as fast, right? He didn't understand why Hanna kept on running, turning the corner sharply. "Hanna!"

"We can't use the cruiser, police aren't welcome in the neighborhood!" Hanna panted, not stopping for a red crosswalk sign and nearly getting hit by a car, who honked angrily when Hanna patted the hood and moved onward. "You've gotta trust me, Jose!"

Trust Hanna. Casey wasn't sure he was exactly willing to do that, but there was little stopping the redhead as he bolted down the emptying streets, leaving no choice but to follow. Hanna kept running, panting hard and back growing stiff with his own agitation at himself, making another turn into a back alley that seemed to be a dead end. Casey halted at the entrance, reflexively touching his gun. A prostitute with a dirty white stole looped around her – his? – neck eyed Casey with what seemed like more than passing interest, and it took all the officer's will power to focus on Hanna, who was busy knocking on a rather beaten door.

"Hey, Worth! Worth, come onnnnn, open the fuck up!" Hanna shouted,  more than a little angry. He went from beating on the door with his fists to kicking it, the metallic bangs echoing against the brick alley. "Open this fucking door, Worth!"

"Yer late." The accent on the other side of the door was harsh, slightly broken, some kind of British or Australian with hints of not giving a fuck. "Again, Hanna."

"I couldn't help it this time god dammit!" Hanna continued to kick at the door. Casey watched the redhead's small frame, seemingly possessed in a rage, dent the metal door in slightly more than it was before. "Just let me the god damn fuck in!" This was accompanied with a sound that was somewhere between a growl of frustration and a scream, and Hanna went for the metal with his fists again.

Of course, it opened the moment he laid into it, so he ended up toppling onto the man behind the door, only hitting him a few times before he realized who it was. The man was staring at Hanna like the kid was an ulcer, and after a few moments, he spoke again, his accent bouncing around a lit cigarette. "Get th'fuck inside, back room."

Hanna, now so subdued it was just as frightening, nodded and quietly wandered into the office beyond. "And who're you?"

"I, uh, Hanna's staying with me?" Casey fidgeted. This didn't look a hell of a lot like a doctor's office, and the man in front of him didn't look much like a doctor. Besides the cigarette, he was blond, stubbly, and had a coat on it that had fur sewn around the collar. He also seemed to be tinted nicotine yellow.

"Oh, so yer his new home. Huh." The doctor shrugged and extended a hand. "Name's Luce Worth. M'the kid's doc."

"I'm Casey Williams. You, uh…" Casey shook the hand and was led inside, trying delicately to phrase the idea that Worth was not really that much of a doctor in looks. The office inside was sparse and covered in paper, and there was a weird green stain on the wall, but it looked generally like an office. At least, it seemed somewhat doctor's office-y. And there was a diploma hanging on the wall.

"Don't look like much of a doctor?" Worth laughed, a harsh sort of bark, and went to dig around in his desk. "Yeah, get that all the time. S'mostly location 'n my damn smoking." He pulled a lighter from the depths of his desk and lit up a fresh smoke, exhaling slowly.

"Why are you back here, anyway? It's rather…" Casey could not find a word for the place. Grungy only fitted outside. Out of the way was too kind. A hell hole was rather harsh. "It's not a place I'd look for a doctor's office. And, I don't mean to pry, but smoking? As a doctor?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't pull that fuckin' shoulda known better bullshit on me. Back here, I'd get cancer from second-hand smoke just a'soon as I'd get it from smokin' m'self." Here, Worth wandered around his desk to lean against the front, cigarette bouncing with his steps. "And not thinkin' a'havin' one down here is why this place exists. Desperate fucks c'n come ta me fer their drug related needs, no fancy-ass doctor judgment required."

He glanced to the right to exhale, and stopped. Casey followed his gaze to see Hanna poking his head through the back room's door, looking like a moping puppy with red eyes. Casey had to stop himself from moving towards Hanna - who he was sure had been crying - considering the glare on Worth's face. "The fuck'd I tell you! Get back in there 'n sit the fuck down ya li'le shit! 'N don't think those puppy-faces 'r gonna make everything fuckin' better!" Worth shouted, removing a shoe and chucking it at the door where Hanna's head used to be.

"Hey!" Casey took a step forward, and one yellowed hand shot to his shoulder to stop him.

"Calm th' fuck down, he's fine. He prefers it when m'an ass. Dunno why. Prob'bly lets him be all sad-ass Suzie 'r throw a tantrum 'r someshit with a reason." Worth shrugged again, shoulders and fluffy coat rising and falling with a sigh of a man who stopped giving a shit a while ago. "Dunno how you managed t'keep 'um, he's a mess."

"He, uh, he thinks I'm a zombie." Casey admitted. He was slightly uncomfortable with that fact, though admittedly it was more that he hadn't had the heart to correct the kid.

"Yeah, he does that." Worth made his way for the back room, coat trailing behind him, lazily. Everything the doctor did seemed to be like that – lazy, monotonous, having done this hundreds of times before. "He's a lil' fucked, if ya haven't noticed."

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" Casey followed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Worth stopped just before the door, turning to face the officer with a lazy twirl.

"The fuck d'ya think I am, a quack? 'Course I fuckin' know." Again came the bark of a laugh. "But I ain't gonna tell ya. Get yer panties outta yer ass. He'll tell ya in his own damn time. It's his ta own. Oh, 'n don't correct the zombie thing unless ya want him a sobbin' mess 'r someshit. I ain't motherin' him after that." With that, Worth turned and forced open the backroom door, shutting it after Casey stepped inside.

The backroom looked a little more doctor-like than the main office, comprised of dark, clean walls and tiled flooring. An examination table sat in the middle of the room, on which Hanna sat. There were also counters along the walls, a metal sink, some dark cabinets, a large bookshelf, and a beaten up filing cabinet on the floor. A dark haired man in drab colors was loading books from a box to a shelf, and another young man sat on the counter near the sink, an IV and blood bag connected to his arm. He was deathly pale and wearing a sweater-vest, which looked not only out of place but also inappropriate to wear for being from the area.

"Hahaha, busy today, eh Worth?" The dark haired man turned from the bookshelf, crossing his hairy arms. There was a bandage on his face, his forehead was mostly eyebrows, and he could be well described as "greasy".

"Fuck off, 'Mont." Worth grumbled, heading around the examination table and giving the other man a good kick in the shins as he passed. "He's not a patient, he's Hanna's fuckin' guardian or someshit."

"Oh, oh wow. Haha. I'm so sorry. My name's Lamont Toucey." Lamont stepped around the table and extended a hand, which Casey took. He was laughing nervously. "I, uh, I tried to keep track of Hanna for a day and, well, hahahehe." He paused, chuckling.

"'Mont lost the bastard in Target." Worth added, now digging through some of the drawers. "Had ta alert the fuckin' security."

"I wasn't lost." Hanna put in, crossing his legs on the table. "I wanted to see the video games."

"Hanna, we found you stuck to a rake." Lamont crossed his arms, looking at Hanna with all the disapproval of a father-figure after his son ran off.

"It wasn't that—"

"Hanging from the rake, Hanna." Those words ended the conversation, but a moment later Lamont chuckled, ruffling Hanna's head affectionately. "Have to say, it was really funny, though."

"You didn't hav'ta get the rake off 'm." Worth grumbled. "The fuck m'I gonna do with a rake?"

"Stab people, most likely." The young man on the counter said, shifting slightly. Worth glanced up, a wicked sort of smile coming to his face.

"Huh, never thought'a that." The grin made Casey step backwards into the door. "Stab th'fuckers who can't pay." Here, Worth looked at Hanna pointedly. "Be fuckin' glad yer insured or you'd be first."

After a second of uneasy silence, Lamont was the first to laugh, before going back to stocking the bookshelf. Worth let out a huff of a noise and went back to digging in the drawers, leaving Casey to Hanna. "Hey, James," Hanna had given up ever getting his name right, "you met Conrad?" He gestured to the man hooked up to the IV. "He's a vampire."

"I am not." Conrad denied, but it fell on Hanna's deaf ears.

"He's always here. Worth gets him blood, but he doesn't like to drink it." Hanna chuckled, because that was apparently very funny. Luckily, Worth derailed the conversation with a loud Ha!, having found the gloves he was looking for.

"Now sit th'fuck still, this is gonna hurt." Worth snapped the gloves and wandered around the table, setting to Hanna's injuries. Casey sidled over to Conrad, who looked irritated.

"Sorry about him." Casey tried.

"Don't worry about it. He never listens." Conrad huffed, crossing his arms as much as he was able. "I've told him a hundred times and he ignores me. It's the blood bags." He was staring at Worth, who was giving Hanna a proper bitching while cleaning the scrapes on his arms. Casey turned his back to them, desperately trying to maintain the conversation to drown out Hanna's worrying yelps.

"Why do you need blood?" Casey asked. Conrad smiled at him, slightly, understanding that the need for conversation meant he didn't exactly have time to make that sound any better.

"I have anemia caused by iron deficiency. Most of the time, people take iron tablets and that shit, but, uh." Conrad prodded at the IV slightly. "For me, the longer I take them, the less they help. So I come in every so often to get pumped full of iron rich blood." The enthusiasm in his voice was faked, and both men chuckled. "I really hate coming, but the hospital just tries stronger supplements and those just make me sicker." Conrad groaned a little, and Casey let out a hum of agreement.

"That's a lot of Worth's patients." Lamont had wandered over, unpacking a box of cool blood packs on the counter as he spoke. "Hospitals aren't the place for them. Either they'll be judged too harshly, or the hospital just won't try the risky shit that'll help best. Unless you're dying, or at least terminal."

"At least hospitals are clean." Conrad grumbled, running a pale finger across the countertop. "This place is filthy."

"Fuck, Connie, hospitals 're fuckin' dirty compared ta yer apartment." Worth decided to add his two cents, much to Conrad's dismay. "Th'fuck'd'ya do, spit shine yer floors?"

"I do not! And don't call me Connie!" Conrad raged, which only made Worth laugh.

"Lay off him, Worth." Lamont chided. "You can drop the act, Hanna's out of it." Sure enough, Hanna's eyes were empty, his gaze staring at nothing. Lamont waved a hand in front of Hanna's face to prove it, and the redhead didn't respond at all, not even a blink.

"Who says it's an act?" Worth chuckled, pulling the needle and thread he was using tight to close a set of stitches. "Fuckin' love tormentin' th'fagass."

"I am not a fagass!" Conrad snapped, again, but he was, again, ignored.

"The cop in the room who is willing to keep Hanna would probably appreciate you mentioning it's an act." Lamont's tone was very dark with the word "cop", and the sentence snapped Worth's head up.

"Cop?" He glared at Casey, good and hard. "Th'fuck, Mont?"

"He's a cop." Lamont put his elbows on the counter behind him. "I've seen him around town before, in his cruiser and such." He looked at Casey, who was rather startled that he was that easy to place. "Besides, those are police grade weapons."

"How do you know that?" Casey frowned, staring right back at Lamont. Something seemed suspicious about him, and Casey didn't like it. And it wasn't the fact that Lamont reeked of shady dealer, either.

"Calm down. I deliver some of your stuff at the station." Lamont raised his hands defensively. "I'm not a bad guy, trust me. Neither is Worth."

"Fuckin' shit. Hanna. Hanna, you little shit, you better fuckin' focus." Worth was busy shaking Hanna by the arm, and slowly, Hanna tuned in, as though waking from a dream.

"What…?" He mumbled, eyes still empty, but focused on Worth's menacing scowl.

"You brought a fuckin' cop." Worth shook Hanna again for emphasis. "The fuck'did I tell you about bringin' cops?"

"Nothing…?" It was hard to tell if Hanna really had forgotten or if he was just faking it to stay out of trouble.

"I think it was more th'n nothin'." Worth growled. "I said no fuckin' cops."

"If you're worried I'd tell someone, I won't." Casey stepped in, putting a hand on Hanna's shoulder in almost defense.

"It's not that." Lamont stepped forward as well, almost trying to mediate the conversation. "It's that, seeing a cop coming in and out of the office would probably deter a good number of the patients that come here."

"Which means, ya ain't comin' back." Worth growled, and for once Casey detected a hint of menace from Worth directed at him. There was a different feel to his anger this time, and the officer quickly realized that Worth's old anger was an act, but this anger was real, and possibly more dangerous. "Ya can't keep waltzin' in here like some regul'r customer. Look like yer investigatin' the place, 'n we can't have that."

"Well, I can't let Hanna just walk out here on his own." Casey frowned back at Worth, crossing his arms and trying to look more intimidating that normal. "Either someone escorts him, or he doesn't come."

"Well, hope you had plans ta drop th'fucker off with'a family or someshit, 'cause ya ain't comin' back." Worth pulled himself up to his full height to end the conversation. "Kid gets a foster home, 'n you stay away."

The words "foster home" triggered something deep in Hanna, who, for the most part, had been watching the conversation ping-pong quietly, like he was observing a tennis match. But those words brought a rage into Hanna's eyes and he reached up to grip the hand Worth had on his shoulder. Worth jumped and made to pull away, but that only allowed Hanna a better reach and the redhead was quickly latched onto Worth's coat.

"No!" He screamed, fists full of fur. "You are not forcing me in a foster home! Not again!" He shook Worth violently by the coat, before Casey's hand rested on his shoulder and with that, he turned to latch onto the cop, hard. "No no no no no no Percy please don't let them send me to a foster home I like living with you please don't let them take you away from me please please please!" He then burst into high pitched sobs, fists curling in Casey's shirt.

"Fuckin' shit, Hanna." Worth swore, adjusting his coat.

"You really should know better than to mention the 'F-H' word." Lamont grumbled. "Hanna's had some… issues with those."

"Well, fuck all this. Either you go, or th'kid doesn't come back and he better be fuckin' back next time." Worth growled, but it was clear he had given up on fighting it. From the way Hanna was gripping Casey's shirt, there was going to be little separating the redhead from his new best friend.  Hanna continued to sob, and Casey quietly patted his hair.

"If I promise to come unarmed and without the cruiser, would it make any difference?" Casey asked, not looking up. He knew how much Hanna needed Worth, and it was certainly apparent how much Hanna needed him, and a compromise had to be sought. "It's the best I can do."

"It's going to have to work." Lamont sighed. "I don't think I'd figure you a cop without the guns."

"Fine. Fuckin' shit. Why'r'ya so attached ta th'kid enough ta let him stay in the first place?" Worth asked, putting a hand on the table. "He's a fuckin' wreck. S'like keepin' a retarded puppy."

"I hope you're not planning on taking him in for good." Lamont warned, quietly. "I don't think anyone can survive living with him for good."

"I'm actually going down to the station after this to see if I can make finding his parents a priority." Casey said, rubbing Hanna's back. Even Conrad, who had been curled up on the counter, trying to avoid Hanna's rage, laughed at that statement.

"I'm pretty sure that's an effort wasted." Lamont sat on the table, putting a hand on Hanna's back. Hanna hiccupped, but his sobs began to quiet and still. "He never really mentions them. We figure they're dead."

"Well, it's going to be my job to find that out." Casey replied, holding Hanna until Hanna decided to let go. The redhead wiped his nose on his sleeve and took a deep breath, eyes red and puffy. "Is Hanna done here?"

"Yeah, fucker's got a clean bill 'o health fer the moment. Don't let 'm kill 'mself, got it?" Worth grumbled, but it was easy to tell it was once again the act. "Hanna, ya better keep yer ass outta trouble. Got it?" The threat was absorbed, and Hanna nodded, hopping off the table.

"Bye guys." The redhead waved, smiling even though there was little happiness to it. "Sorry you had to see that, Conrad."

"It's okay, Hanna. Be careful, okay?" Conrad sort of half smiled at Hanna, and Hanna smiled brightly in return, before rushing out the door. With a half wave behind him, Casey followed.

"Welp, " Worth sighed to their retreating backs, "this is gonna be a hell'f'a week."

~*~*~*~

"Man, you really have a way with words." Hanna said around a mouthful of fries. They were on their way home from the station, where Casey had successfully talked his superiors into letting him take Hanna's missing parents as a full on case. "They didn't even question you or anything."

"Well, when someone's lost their parents, it really is a very high priority to find them. Just like when parents lose their kids, it's extremely high priority to find them. It's like an Amber Alert, but reversed." Casey explained, as they waited at a stoplight. The city was beginning to grow dark around them, but instead of stilling, it was growing more vibrant. Multicolored lights lit up the streets and various signs flashed at passing cars.

"So it's an Rebma alert?" Hanna guessed with a laugh. Casey had to laugh as well as he pulled into the parking area for their apartment.

"Yeah, I'd guess you'd say that." Casey opened his door, and the pair piled into the street, locking the cruiser and heading up to the apartment. When Casey opened the door, he was greeted immediately by Ples, who looked frustrated and like he was nearly out of his mind.

"Thank god you are here." Ples latched onto his boyfriend and nearly collapsed into him. "I hate to say it, but these children, Casey, they're multiplying."

"Hey, geaser!" The voice echoed from the kitchen, and at the sound Hanna darted behind Casey, watching wearily. "Why no mayo?"

"I can't get him to go home." Ples groaned. From the kitchen door emerged a young teen, holding a tuna sandwich. His hair was somewhere between extremely ashy gray and a white-blond, his eyes were bright green, and he spoke with a slight lisp. His outfit also had a thing for sharks, considering the shark finned hoodie.

"You can't make a tuna sandwich without—oh, hey Casey!" The teen waved at the cop, and then paused. "Dude, you weren't lying when you said you had a kid now. Woah."

"Hanna." Casey put a hand on Hanna's back and gently guided the redhead in front of him. "This is a friend of ours. His name is Veser."