Roger’s heavy boots made little squeaking sounds on the linoleum floor of the hospital. They were not fitting sounds for a man like him. Roger was Herculean in height and size, much of his face masked behind a scraggly beard that draped down to his chest, and a long head of hair that he kept tucked under a black beanie. For much of Roger’s life, getting people to stay the fuck away from him by just looking bad was his first line of defense, his first step in the dance of survival that his childhood had been.

Some habits die hard. His heavy leather jacket jangled and clashed, and was definitely too hot for the weather outside, but it was protection. Dark working jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a pair of goggles dangling around his neck made up the rest of his attire. But the cherry on top was the revolver slung in the holster on his left side. He had the proper paperwork for the gun and to carry it in plain sight. Keeping the cowardly bastards on the inner worlds a few yards away was worth the occasional checkup by the blues. A man slinging a revolver rarely gets his pockets picked.

As he approached the front desk, he was the victim of a knowing look from the head nurse, Miss Hadley. In her pink scrubs and circular rimless spectacles, Nurse Hadley looked perfectly at home in the hospital. She was damn good at the job, and she knew it. She knew the hospital backwards and forwards, kept a list of every patient’s name, first middle and last, social security number, and time admitted on a little black book in her pocket, and in her head.

She shook her head as he approached. “Where’s Rya-“ he began, but she was quick, and she cut him off.

“You can’t go in there dearie.” Her eyes met his, and Roger was surprised by the determination in her eyes. “It’s family only, not friends.”

Roger’s stone face didn’t move a muscle, (he wasn’t called “Freeze” for nothing,) and he looked down at the tiny woman, and retorted calmly, “Veronica, I baby-sat your grandchildren when they could barely crawl, how you still don’t trust me is a mystery. As for the Avery’s I taught Ryan how to shoot a gun, and I used to play tag with Hannah. I am family.”

Veronica, buried in the computer began to make a reply, but Roger never heard it, he was halfway through the door into the hospital by the time she was done with her trademark “tch, tch tch”.

Roger searched the wards, going room to room, silently poking into examination rooms and spying on the families of the interred. Eventually he found the room, and he edged inside, approaching his friend. The place smelled like ozone and Pepto-Bismol, and the incessant beeping was already drilling into his head. “Ryan,”[b] he grumbled, his soft voice sounded like a rockslide a couple miles away, [b]“she awake?”

"This isn't your fault, idiot."

"Yeah, bu-"

"Ryan. The idea's just insulting. If I want to go out alone without anybody knowing where I'm going, I can, and that's what I did. Plus, when you did manage to find me, you did the right thing. So you just shut up . . ."

"Hannah . . ."

"Shut up, oaf. You didn't fuck up, and you saved my life or whatever. Also, I love you."

"A'right."



Ryan wasn't exactly paying attention to anything external when Roger came in. He had spaced out for a few minutes there, but the sound of his name snapped him out of his unusual state, prompting him to turn and see his newly arrived friend. That sight got him to lean back in his chair beside Hannah's bed, which he had previously propped himself up on.

He looked like he had been with her all night, but that wasn't the case. He just had a bit of a lingering hangover and a lot on his mind. Hannah had only woken up for the first time since she got to the hospital hours ago. Once Ryan got his ass to the place after hearing that she was awake, he didn't feel like leaving, but he hadn't actually been there all that long.

"Hey," he exhaled to Roger before slouching in his chair and gesturing vaguely to Hannah. "She's uh . . . in n' out. Out right now, but if you hang around a minute, she'll wake up. "

Despite what his sitting around might have indicated, Ryan hated being around while Hannah just slept, but he had to acknowledge that she looked a hell of a lot better now than she had even the day before. Still, he didn't look at her.

Feeling like he just had to talk more to ease his awkwardness, he explained, "They've got her all doped up on meds now. She was actually pretty much wide awake earlier." With a small smile, he added, " . . . n' a real bitch, too."

He walked up to the side of the bed and looked down at Hannah. She didn't look nearly as bad as he'd immagined. He'd seen people who had suffered stab wounds before, but he was more familiar with the act than the recovery. "Doesn't matter, I'll see her soon." He looked over at his friend, scanning the stress and patches of hidden fear and guilt in his eyes and lips, that cocky half-smile. He knew the man, knew his moods and his quirks, and Ryan had trouble hiding anything from his friend. In return, Ryan was one of the three people to read Freeze's poker face.

"Did she tell you not to feel bad?" he ventured, trying in the best way he knew to get his friend to feel better.

OOC: this was written on my phone at a cookout because I couldn't keep away from this post...sorry for quality/quantity...

Ryan scoffed lightly, seeming to be somewhat humored by the thoughts inspired by that question. "I think her first words to me were, 'Stop brooding over your incompetence.'" He paused, considering that as his gaze found the far wall.

He was as happy as he was baffled, really. Hannah had been unusually fine when he first got there, despite the pain she pretended she didn't feel, and she had continued to be strangely witty even after she was properly drugged. The thing was, she was being herself, and although that was odd under the circumstances, it was a relief. Ryan had been thoroughly worried every day since 'Alexa' or Toby or whatever-her-name-was-on-this-day called him after finding Hannah in that alley. He probably should have known better, knowing his sister like he did, but he hadn't assumed that she'd be so okay when he came in to see her awake.

Hannah had never been hurt like this-never- but Ryan supposed he should have given her more credit. There was a reason why their dad seemed to think Hannah was the tougher sibling.

Looking to Roger again, he asked, "Who talks like that when they're screwed up on meds? She's makin' me look like a wimp . . ."

. . . but she barely remembered what happened the night she was stabbed. She couldn't understand why he felt the way he did, and Ryan figured he didn't really want her to.

Roger grinned slightly, that sensitive smile that you give whenever you're around someone hurt because you feel like true mirth would be disrespectul. Hannah was tougher than tanned leather, even though she got treated pretty delicately a lot of the time because of her sex. Roger was one of those who held Hannah back. She was like a little sister to him, and more than that, she was a girl, and while Hannah played tomboy like it was her job, Roger still had a hard time wrapping his mind around the sex entire.

"Sounds like she's doin' pretty good," Roger looked back at Ryan, and asked, "what're you waitin' around for? Wanna see her awake again?" Roger had avoided coming to the hospital for as long as he could. He had wanted to go with Ryan, but that was a desire he had never voiced, so when he heard that his friend was at the Hospital, and that Hannah was awake, he had pushed through his fear and trudged to see her.

OOC: once again on my phone...

It was good to hear Roger say that Hannah looked like she was doing pretty good. Ryan didn't know why, exactly- he had seen her at her worst, after all- but it did. Perhaps there was a small chance that he wasn't sure she was going to be okay. Maybe he didn't trust his own eyes to see what was there, knowing that he wanted Hannah back at Clancy's bossing him around instead of in some hospital bed drugged halfway out of her mind.

"I just, uh-" He scratched at the back of his head for no solid reason. "I was gonna leave when she fell asleep this last time, but I figure I've gotta tell her about this thing with Dawson's sister."

Finally he glanced at Hannah, narrowing his eyes as if he was searching for something.

"I feel like I'm hiding something from her, n' when she finds out, I know she'll be pissed that nobody told her if I don't." Suddenly Ryan realized something and turned to look at Roger somewhat oddly. "Are you here t' say hi to Hannah or did you come to babysit me?"

Roger almost chuckled at his friend, but it just turned into a smile and a single "Heh." His friend was almost as fiercely independent as he was, maybe just as on a good day. It was one of the reasons the two got along so well. There wasn't much leaning done ever between them. "Maybe a bit of both," he said pulling a bouncy ball from his pocket and reaching across Ryan to place the toy on the bedside table. When she was very small, Hannah had Roger would play wall ball with the tiny orbs outside of Clancy's, or play catch by standing next to eachother and bouncing it as hard as they could, chasing it around the rocky terrain. They would always loose them, sending them flying off into the desert, or on top of a roof. He had gotten in the habit of getting her a new one every time he went off world, all of them in varying shapes and sizes. They played with each one until it was lost. This one was lime green and tiny.

"She would be pissed," he continued, straightening his jacket self consciously, a little embarrassed at his show of kindness, "but the fewer people know about this thing, the easier it's gonna be. I ain't sayin' Hannah's not trustworthy, that's the last thing I'd claim." He shot Ryan a look of gravity. "But knowin' that girl? She'll want a piece of the action, even if she has to bleed out for it. And we both know she can't afford any more of that. Not for a while anyways."

Ryan nodded tiredly, noting that his friend had brought something for Hannah but not wanting to make things awkward by acknowledging it. He knew better. . .

Hannah was all sorts of clever and itching for a chance to be treated like an adult. Unfortunately, that seemed to be what had led her to this point. That seemed to be exactly what got her lying in an alley with a busted lung and nothing but the unexpected kindness of a prostitute to save her. Ryan knew Hannah was smart and capable and tough- she didn't have to prove that to him- but he knew she felt the need to prove it to everyone.

She wasn't like his mother, or his grandmother, or any of the other Archer women he knew. She wasn't going to be the one waiting at home with a hug and a good meal when the guys came back from a job. She wasn't even going to be like his aunt, going on the jobs with them. She was too smart for grunt work, too perfectly capable of doing something else, and she was too damn ambitious to be just another woman looking after the home and the kids while running the show from behind the scenes.

His sister was someone to be proud of, he supposed, but she scared the hell out of him. He wanted to be more like her as much as he wanted to lock her up forever.

"I'm trying t' hope Dan can keep her here until she's really ready to go," Ryan sighed. "She might be crazy enough to try to leave before she gets the okay, but it's not like she can really hide around here, and there're at least a few people watching her. I don't think I can not tell her."

"Not tell me what?" Hannah asked, her voice somewhat groggy as her brow furrowed and she seemed to consider not opening her eyes. ". . . n' you guys better not have a million people watching me without me knowing. That's creepy and insulting."

Reaching a lazy hand up, she nearly smacked herself in the face as she moved to rub at her eyes before opening them. The first of the two guys she saw was the bigger of the two.

"Hey, Freeze," she said in a more pleasant tone, smiling a little.

"Certainly not much choice now," Roger muttered to Ryan. Roger was hesitant about spreading information at all, and was unlikely to share where he got his groceries without a good reason. Hannah was a pretty good person to share secrets with, she wasn't a loud mouth like most women Roger knew, but Roger had seen one too many plans go awry just because someone told one too many people. Information was precious. It was one of the many things he dealt in.

"Mornin' Hannah," Roger said, giving half a smile and patting her knee with his massive hand. "I didn't think I was gonna get to talk to you, you seemed pretty out. How are you feeling? I heard someone poked you a little too hard and I thought I should come see. Nasty feeling, ain't it?"

Always dodging the questions with these guys. . .

They were lucky she loved them, Hannah figured. Sometimes she got really pissed when she walked into a room and everyone instantly shut up before changing the conversation, but this situation wasn't quite like that. She was lacking the will to get mad, and she supposed she should have just pretended to stay asleep while they talked about whatever it was she wasn't supposed to know. . .

"It doesn't really feel like being tickled by a feather, but I'm alright," she explained quietly as Ryan leaned forward to prop himself up on the edge of the bed again. When he came close enough, she gave his arm a weak slap. "Honestly . . . I think this whole thing screwed Ryan up more than me. He's being a big baby."

"I'm not being a baby," Ryan argued with a small grin.

Shifting a little, Hannah tried not to look horrifically uncomfortable (and succeeded, for the most part) as she asked, "Now what's going on with you two?"

Roger smirked at his friend as Hannah ripped into him. Ryan took it well, trying to help her get comfortable. He was always amazed by their friendship. It was a piece of life that Roger had never been familiar with. Friends were something that came late in his life, along with his arrival at Initium.

"You don't waste a beat," Roger joked. He liked Hannah's determination. It reminded him of a younger version of himself. "We have a bit of a job to do. It's not money, it's blood." He started toward the door, "Ryan, you tell her, you're better at talkin'." He poked his head outside the door and checked the hallway. It was empty, and he returned to the side of the bed, listening to Ryan tell the story one more time.

Hannah's expression dropped at Freeze's brief explanation of the basics. That sounded bad. She wasn't even sure it didn't have something to do with her, but she managed to keep herself from rushing into a list of questions. Ryan had been told to explain. She had to give him an opportunity to do that.

"Dawson's sister's coming here on an Alliance supply ship," Ryan started, keeping his voice down.

Hannah's eyes grew a little wider.

"We're gonna get her off there n' away from the Allies."

"'We' meaning you, and you," Hannah started slowly looking from Ryan to Roger, "and Michael and whoever else . . . so dad must know." In a slightly more passionate tone of voice, she asked, "And when is this happening?"

Ryan scratched at the stubble growing on his jaw. "Soon."

"Soon as in today?" Hannah asked quickly after that.

"No," Ryan answered simply.

Looking at Roger, Hannah put on her I-do-not-approve face and asked, "Am I the only person who thinks this is a shit idea?"

It appeared that she was, and that was far from comforting.

Roger leaned on the bed and shot Ryan a look somewhere between a warning and a challenge. "You're not the only one, Hannah, it's bat-shit crazy, dangerous, stupid, and hard to justify." And it was. The supply ship would be going right into the heart of the beast, several hundred Marines all guarding their little metal home. To get Michael's sister out was a risk unlike anything any of them had taken, and it endangered not only them, but the colony entire. He turned back to Hannah, "but she's Michael's blood, and Dawson's family so that's just how it is."

And it was as simple as that for the Archer boys. You didn't leave blood behind, and you never abandoned a real friend. It was the unspoken code of the real fringers.

"Dawson's sister's the last he's got left, and I don't know if he's told you what it was like in prison, but it wasn't pretty. She's goin' through the same thing he went through, and she's been goin' through it for even longer. We gotta get her out, and if we don't go, Dawson'll go without us and get himself killed." Roger had put too much money keeping that boy alive in prison to let him die now.

Hannah shifted again, propping herself up a little as her eyes widened even more. "You guys aren't getting anybody out of anywhere if you all get shot and/or dead," she pointed out. "And either way-- doesn't that sound like a good way to get the whole colony shut down? I mean, there's being a helpful friend, and then there's suicide, completely screwing an entire settlement, and-- please tell me this isn't the first time anybody's brought this up."

By the end of it, she was breathing a little heavily for someone with a busted lung, but she looked more irritated than pained or uncomfortable.

"We've got a plan going, Hannah . . ." Ryan tried to insist, but his sister didn't seem interested in hearing it.

"Freeze . . ." she started, her gaze toward him turning somewhat pleading before she glared at Ryan. "Oh, what the fuck . . ."

They were hopeless.

Roger didn't have much of an answer to Hannah. She was in most ways, completely right, and the last time Roger told her it was a matter of principle she went on a ten minute rant about principle and her family and how stupid they all were really, and how if she were at the head of the family what she would do, and on and on. Roger wasn't going to let Dawson go in alone, and Ryan wasn't going to be left out of the fun. The three were engaged, and whatever aid Mr. Archer sent with them was welcome, but they were bound by their own codes. A man who doesn't have a code, or who changes it is a belly crawling snake. Or, that's what Roger thought.

"Told you," he muttered to Ryan. "Hannah," he said, "we can't leave Dawson's sister in there. I expect you'll stay quiet about this for the rest of us? Also, I brought you a bouncy." He pointed to the bedside table like his gift was the crowning piece of his argument.

Hannah exhaled with a shudder as she settled back onto her pillows properly, eying both of the 'boys'. She was ready to be properly aggravating just before she was told that she had a gift next to her. At that, she turned her head to see the little bouncy ball Freeze had brought, but as she moved to grab it, Ryan took it into his hand, only to offer it to her. She was vaguely thankful for that, knowing it would have been tricky to reach for the thing, but she didn't look overly giddy when she took the ball into her hands and looked at it.

"That was smart," she muttered before letting a smile appear on her face for a brief moment. "And of course I'll-" She inhaled. "-keep quiet. I'm not a rat. . . but I don't want either of you-" Another inhale. "-ending up in a bed next to me here. Don't be stupid about it."

A second passed before she held the ball in her hand up and said a proper, "Thank you," to her 'other brother'.

Ryan was just a loveable idiot in her book, at the moment. He should have brought another gift for her, obviously. Dragging her to the hospital so she didn't end up dying in an alley was only going to hold up for so long before he would end up being held accountable for being an idiot.

OOC: That's toooo good of an ending for me to post again! I don't see any reason to continue here if you don't. I'd love to move on to something else with you, but I'm not sure what. Next things I forsee in Roger's life is a conversation with Flick, and furthering this job to get back the new Dawson.