Hans stood in the street, staring and not understanding as his friend withdrew, clearly terrified with the reflection of the flames in his eyes. In all the adrenalin of the moment, Hans couldn’t understand. Bert was immortal now. No matter what happened, he was going to be okay – had he forgotten? But no, even mortal, especially mortal, he had been fearless and reckless to the point of insanity. But now… Hans wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a look like that on Bert’s face before, a sort of primal, instinctive fear barely under wraps, and it made him unrecognizable.
about as unrecognizable as a wide-eyed, wheezing, burnt corpse, anyway
The image hit Hans hard enough to make him feel sick. That was why. The witch-burning, in Paris…
of course. oh god, of course…
How could he ever ask Bert to face a thing like that again, immortal or not? The thought of urging Bert into danger even IF his immortality would technically keep him safe put a twinge of self-loathing through Hans. Even immortal, it would still hurt… it would still rip him apart… just that he had to withstand the pain long enough to repair himself again, and with how many times Hans had already seen the excruciating results, how could he ever…..?
There were people in that building who were in a very desperate situation, and someone had to do something until the authorities arrived, or if would be too late for some of them,. That much was certain, by the powerful surging of the flames bursting through windows and licking up the sides of the apartment structure.
Swallowing hard, Hans stepped back to Bert, taking his trembling friend by the shoulders to steady him, looking him in the eye.
“Bert… It’s okay. I understand, it’s okay. But someone has to help. I’ll be right back, okay? Here,” he said, pausing a moment to fish his office keys out of his coat pocket, pressing them into Bert’s hand. “I want you to go into the office, and use the phone in the kitchen to call the fire department. Maybe everyone’s been too shocked – maybe they haven’t thought of it yet. Call for help. Step in time?”
It was all the time Hans could afford. He pulled Bert in for a very tight, but terribly brief hug before tearing himself away, racing down the street toward the climbing flames.
Of course, there was fear involved. Prince Hans wasn’t immortal, like many of his friends were. But even at his worst, even in Arendelle his impulse was to lead the fight, and to protect the people around him – even if certain individuals had been coldly cut out of those instincts for the prince’s sick, power-hungry gain. What a complex time that was… But now, there was Mary Poppins, hidden away in the carpetbag, unaware of the danger her guardian was putting himself into nearly on impulse.
What would happen to her, if he died here?
His heart stung, for that – finally, a twinge of panic – what would happen to her, so recently and tentatively recovering from the hell she had slipped into? The hell he had held her hand through? This was a stupid idea.
stupid, stupid
But, it was too much a part of Hans’ nature to pull himself away from it. He had the Naval Academy to thank for that. Hans gave a sharp frown as he hoisted himself up along the ladders of the fire escape, the heat of the flames already almost scalding.
As long as he didn’t die or anything, everything would be okay. Mary would be okay. Bert would be okay. Everything. So, just – don’t die.
There was some grim amusement in that, he thought, as he reached an open window that was safe to pass through, and vanished inside.
