“I mean,” the younger woman shifts her feet with uncertainty, as Brutus- her red fox dæmon- sits at her feet. He gently swipes at her ankles to urge her to stand still and speak. “It did come as a shock to suddenly wake up with your spirit outside your body and in a world you never wanted to be in.”

“She’s a witch though.” Muse points out. “That’s a good thing.”

A raven hops out of the changing room, and somehow, despite having black eyes, manages to roll his eyes. “Since she’s being a priss about this, hello, my name is Mxyzptlk,” there’s a strangled scream from the changing room following his name, “but you may call me Mixy.”

“You cannot have that name!” Hannah cries from the changing room. “I can’t rationally explain your name without the freaking Magisterium showing up to murder me! You’re named after a fifth dimensional being? Hah! ‘Burn the witch’!”

Hannah finally throws back the curtain and steps out, arms crossed and glaring hard. She’s taller, but that’s the only thing to have changed about her. She’s in black silk pants and a very loose, blue silk blouse, because witch skin was sensitive and it honestly pisses her off. “I should be 5 feet tall. Not 5’6. I am going to rage against the machine.”

“Most short people want to be taller,” F’lar points out.

“’M not most people. I like being a short, salty woman.” Hannah huffs back. “Fight me.”

The cat dæmon gives her a long, slow blink, then looks at Muse. “You have extremely weird friends.”

“You’re telling me,” Brutus snorts.

“Hey!” All three women say at the same time.

“Don’t insult my person.” Mxyzptlk sighs, and somehow makes his way to Hannah’s shoulder where he rubs his head against her cheek. “She’s clearly pms’ing.”

“I will murder you and it would be worth it,” she replies, getting a chortle from the blasted bird.

“Can we just go before they realize we can’t pay for these clothes?” Noemi asks. “I’m starting to get tense.”

“Same.” Muse agrees. “Those police dæmons sound vicious.”

“They are.” Hannah sighs tiredly.

“It’s now or never, ladies,” F’lar states with absolute zero emotion.

Noemi, chained to a stone slab, kicks the wailing, mummy Anck-su-namun in the head. “And I didn’t ask Evie to read from that fucking book! But look what happened!”

“I don’t need to look!” She grabs the sword Imhotep had thrown from her, blocking a blow in time with a strangled scream. “Evie!”

“I’m trying!” Evie yells, wrestling for the book from one of the priests. Jonathan manages to get the bastard to let go and shoots him in the head with the gun Rick had given him. “Thank you, Jonathan!”

“Jesus didn’t die for this!” Noemi yells, kicking Anck-su-namun right in the chin, throwing her head back with a sickening crack.

Hannah rolls away, scrambling around the slab. She grabs Anck-su-namun by the ankles and yanks her down. If not for the fact she was running from the guy trying to kill her best friend, Hannah would take satisfaction in hearing her gurgly, grunting wail. “Jesus died to wash away this bitch’s sin. And it didn’t work.”

“Hey, ugly.”

She hears a shotgun and stumbles to a stand as Anck-su-namun whips around, lashing out with her ceremonial dagger. Hannah jumps back then kicks her in the face. She sling her sword down on the chains binding Noemi, who jumps up as Rick yells at them to run.

“I will once I get her free!” Hannah snaps, helping Noemi off. “I’m so pissed at you right now.” She tells her best friend. “You just had to take that ‘free trip’ into the desert. You just had to see the fucking lost city. Ugh!”

“You wanted mummies!”

“I wanted mummies in glass cases!”

“Same difference!”

“No! It’s not!”

This was going to be a long night.

“Got mini marshmallows?”

“No.” She shakes her head, then grabs the pack she brings in everyday, showing him as discretely as possible. “But I can add some of my own?”

He finally smiles. It's more a smirk but Hannah thinks it fits him. He shifts on his feet and she gets a whiff of smoke that makes her want to scrunch up her nose. He's got the gruff fireman thing going for him pretty well.

“Venti or grande?” She asks. At his blank stares she nods. “Venti it is. What name for the order?”

“Uh, Rory.” He grumbles after a moment. She grabs the cup and writes Rory along its side lengthwise, curling the tail of the ‘y’ around the rest of his name.

“Hey, Noemi?” She looks at her friend and coworker who'd been making the drinks. “Can you man the register real quick? He wants my signature cocoa.”

“Sure.”

Hannah looks at her customer. “Noemi’ll ring you up, sir.”

The two switch places and Hannah makes the drink, adding in the cinnamon and Cayenne powder post-chocolate and pre-scalded milk. She gives four quick stirs after adding the milk and grabs her bag of marshmallows to dump a few in (six she counted), then fetching the whipped cream, shaking vigorously twice and covering the top in cold cream before dipping her fingers in the cinnamon can to sprinkle over the top. She pops the lid on and comes over to the pick-up counter. She holds it out to him.

“For one Mr. Rory.” She beams at him. “Have a great day!”

He takes it, eyeing her, and then takes a sip. There's a brief moment she thinks he hates it then nods.

“‘S good.”

Duh. “I'm glad you think so!” She stands up, heading for the register. “Thanks for coming!”

--------------

The next day Hannah works is a Monday. It's just her at the register and back for the mid-morning shift, Noemi cleaning counters and doing dishes. They tended to work the same shifts since they were at the same college, were roommates, and shared a car (hers broke down freshman year of college).

One of the regulars comes in, talking with a man she doesn't recognize. He's got hair like Rory, but black with spots of gray, and he's much leaner, definitely sharper too. Unlike with Barry, there's a distinct “don't trust this guy” vibe.

“Hi, Barry.” She greets. “Usual, babe?”

He gives her his typical smile, the relieved and “thank you for being the one here” one.

“Yeah, thanks.” He looks to his companion, whose hands are slid into the pockets of his dark coat. “What do you what, Len?”

He holds her gaze, a bright blue but decidedly too cold for her. Pretty, but dangerous. Like thin ice you you tried to skate on.

“Heard from Mick you make a good hot chocolate.” Barry’s eyebrows go up, looking to Hannah with a new expression she didn't recognize.

“I don't know a Mick.”

“Of course not.” Len gives a sharp smirk. “I'll have one of your hot cocoas with almond milk. Don't skimp on the marshmallows, if you can.”

At this point she won't have any left for hers come break time. But that's what happens when she opens her fat mouth. Oh well.

She rings up the drinks, Barry paying, and makes the Flash and hot cocoa. Hannah needed to go ahead and ask if they could make it an official drink seeing as she added stuff not advertised and customers could definitely taste the change when others made it instead of her.

“Here you go.” She sets the cups before them. Len takes a long drink, pauses a moment, and raised an eyebrow.

“Cayenne and cinnamon?” He asks. “Interesting mix.”

She flushes, defensive of it. “It gives the snap and sweet a balance.”

“Hm.” He nods. “Have a good day.”

Him and Barry leave, her blinking at their retreating backs. Everyone who realized what she put in it always had an opinion (and usually not good). This guy just took it and left.

Noemi, who saw it all happen, looked over at Hannah. The two stare a moment then shrug.

--------------

She has another normal two weeks. Hannah ends up having enough of her own mini marshmallows to last two days, then she runs to the store on Grocery Day. The bag is bigger than her usual one, gut twisting with the knowledge that something was on the horizon and after her marshmallows.

It's a Thursday, their typically slowest day. Did they know why? Not really. It was a work day so it should be busy. Noemi figured people slipped up since it was the day after Hump Day and didn't have time for coffee. Hannah didn't know but liked getting to stand there, writing in her Notes app.

At ten a group comes in. Barry is with them and there's Rory and Len. One of them she knows for a fact is Mayor Queen of Star City. She hears a small crash and looks over at Noemi who's gawking at the group, pan of chocolate chip (Hannah’s recipe, they eat the generic’s dough during break) on the counter. Then she's hurriedly putting them in their container, running to put the pan in the back.

The group is just inside the door, talking amongst themselves. Glancing at the menu. Hannah feels herself turn sheet-white under her foundation and concealer.

Carefully, feeling like it's a herd you don't want to spook, she slowly turns off her phone screen and sets it aside under the counter, up against her till. Noemi comes from the back, hair yanked up into a ponytail.

“Oh my god.” Noemi bounces on her heels. “Isn't that the Mayor of Star City? How does Barry know him?”

“I mean, didn't he come into a lot of money when that one guy died?”

“That wasn't confirmed!” Noemi looks at her. “And that doesn't mean he knows the Mayor of Star City!”

Hannah shrugs. She doesn't keep up with intercity politics really. She was more concerned with getting the Giant Cheeto and his Lasagna Taupe thrown out of office.

“So they must be old friends.”

“You mean Party Era!Oliver?”

“Why does that feel capitalized with a ex– Hiiii!” Hannah turns fast, smiling at Barry and Len, embarrassed to have been caught gossiping at work. It was wasn't the worst thing but it was still embarrassing. “Usual, Barry?”

“I'll actually have your hot cocoa today, Hannah.”

Her smile turns a helluva lot more genuine with that, showing a little teeth briefly. “Finally joining the dark side?” Her eyes slide to Len. “He convince you what you're missing out on?”

Barry laughs and Len smirks, a knowing gleam to his eyes that makes them a lot softer. Her heart does this weird floppy, skip-beat, squeal thing and she thinks, Aw fuck.

“More the opposite,” Len drawls slowly, confusing the barista. “But he did try my cocoa and decide to buy one when you next worked and he was in for fun.”

“Guys, don't hold up the line.” A blonde, pretty and with a vague ‘I could step on you and you'd thank me’, speaks up from behind them. “I know she's pretty but I'm thirsty.”

“Uh,” Barry is now flustered and Len is still smirking, leaning against the counter a little.

“Two hot cocoas. One with almond and one plain?” She asks.

“Exactly.” Len nods and she rings them up.

“I'll take the till.” Noemi whispers, and both know the two can hear her. “I got a feeling I know what they're here for.”

“Why the boss won't let me make this an official drink I dunno anymore.” Hannah sighs, moving to make them. “Thanks, babe.”

“No problem.”

Noemi is right everyone did come for the hot chocolate. Once she knows what everyone is going to want, all she has to do is set up and wait for what kind of milk they want.

She really likes the blonde, named Sara, and is able to get her number (and gives hers in return). They flirt a little and then Len teases Sara about holding up the line.

Hannah immediately gets back to her job as Sara glares at Len.

They all sit up on the balcony after, leaving the two women on their own. They stand there, thinking over what just happened and staring at the empty bag of marshmallows, then laugh.

“Dude, that girl is out of your league!” Noemi cackles. “The barista powers strike!”

“Like you and pretty boy are at all compatible?” Hannah teases. “He looks to be, what? In his late 30’s to early-40’s? With hair the Doctor would envy!”

They laugh even harder. “Mayor Queen looked so uncomfortable talking to us. It was hilarious.” Noemi takes a second, sighs. “The rumors are true. His ass is fine.”

“Shh!” Hannah covers her mouth, looking up at where he sits right at the banister. “He might hear you!”

“So? Did you see the cow eyes he gave the woman with him? He's totally over the moon for her. Me sayin’ he's got a good ass isn't going to hurt them at all.”

“Len has a nice ass.” Hannah blurts. A moment later, they're laughing again.

“Okay, but the professor?” Noemi asks. “He had that weird stuck-up vibe.”

“Really?” Hannah looks up at their guests. “He looked more concerned with explaining quantum physics to ‘Jefferson’. Who names their son, who is black, after a man known for having slaves?”

“Someone strange.” Noemi nods slowly and Hannah does too.

Hannah grabs her empty bag of once filled marshmallows. “I can't buy anymore until Grocery Day.” Hannah sighs. “That's two weeks away.”

“You can skimp on that apple pie you're making.” Noemi points out. “You haven't bought the dough yet. I know you suck at homemade pie crusts, but it's better than one of these guys coming in for more and saying you don't have all the ingredients.”

Hannah bites her bottom lip. Thinks of how ecstatic Felicity and Cisco looked after their first sip. She lived for those looks when her own recipes were involved. It also made customers come back for more and tip her extremely well (she didn't miss the two twenties someone added they were totally Noemi’s and hers).

“Yeah. I hope Mrs. Cardenas across the hall doesn't notice. Her kids certainly aren't gonna show up for Mother's Day so somehow has to.”

Noemi gives her a side hug. “She loves anything you make. Don't worry.”

Later, as she's being counted out (“Holy shit,” Marcus asks, “was there a rush?” “Sorta? It's hard to explain.”), she reaches under the counter to grab her book and phone. She touches something plastic.

I thought I threw that away? She thinks, pulling out the marshmallow bag. She pauses when she sees it's a new one, and double the size she'd had today. There’s a scribbled lightning bolt on the side.

She stares at it, blinking. When she heads into the back she holds it up to her best friend.

“Noemi the Flash likes my hot cocoa.”

Noemi looks at it for a moment then says, “You better figure out who it is and marry him or I will.”

Hannah makes a face. “You can have him. Me and Sara have a date tomorrow night.”

----------------

Hannah is glad she went “casual” for her interview at the morgue. She fit right in among the deceased. Seeing all the offered brains for her to pick from didn't help any, making her stomach clench and mouth water. God she hated being undead.

She could write a memoir and pass it off as fiction.

“Ah, the new recruit.”

Hannah looks up, smiling as warmly as possible. The head medical examiner is tall, scruffy, with tan skin that indicates he's Indian. He also sports a British accent that makes her a little weak at the knees. However, she's already learned the hard way that screwing around with a zombie makes you one. She wouldn't be in this mess otherwise.

“Hi. I'm Hannahlee.” She moves, holding out her hand to shake his. She keeps her nails short, filed down, and painted constantly. It minimizes the possibility of scratching someone down to as close to zero as she can get. It helps Hannah sleep a little better at night. “And I'm not new yet. I still need to pass my interview.”

“That you do.” He agrees. “But we do need new hands around the place, and you're the only applicant who came close to being up for the job. I'm Dr. Ravi Chakrabarti, by the way.”

No doubt Noemi’s doing, Hannah thinks dryly, knowing she had flunked med school before starting and went for teaching instead. She did great as an English teacher, her students loved her, but she was scared to be around them. This was isolated and a constant food source.

Noemi was currently giving her a crash course for the job so she could survive. Thank god Hannah’s gag reflex kicked in during horror movies and not when she saw real life blood.

“We’ll talk in the kitchenette area.” He shows her to it and they sit down at the small table, marveling at the enclosed area.

“You have a kitchen in here?”

Thank god! No smuggling out brains. Hannah thinks that over. Okay. Smuggling out of some brains. I need at least two to three mixed together to keep away visions.

Thinking about how long digging up two fresh graves takes in a single night, with help, makes her shudder.  Without help murdered her inside.

“We do.” He gives what she'd think is a smug smile her way. “Frankly we spend most of the day in here if there's not a dead body to examine.”

“Are there many?”

It's out her mouth before she can stop herself and she thinks, Fuck! I sound like a lazy ass! No! I just want food.

She's so pissed at herself for sleeping with that pretty asshole. Thank god Hannah gave him a fake name and number, feeling he'd been off.

“Surprisingly yes.” Dr. Ravi admits, not at all offput. “Most come from the hospital just down the street from us, just normal look overs to see if there happened to have been a murder, and then the actual murders.”

‘The actual murders.’ Like from a crime show. Hannah might like it here.

“Alright. And who's the other underling I'll be with?”

Hannah is curious. She'll need to learn to work around them both. Cracking open a skull isn't easy and doing it without getting caught is harder. Not to mention Noemi can't tell her if checking the brain is a normal thing, so she's doing this blind.

Actually, she can check the bodies that have gone through their autopsies later. That’ll tell her.

“That would be Olivia Moore, or Liv as everyone calls her. Since she's been here longer, she'll be the one mostly looking after you.”

She finishes the interview with flying colors, half thinking of the stir fry she was making tonight. Brain for her and beef for Noemi (they didn't talk about the time Noemi accidentally ate her leftovers).

----------------

“I was wondering why some of the brains were going missing.”

Hannah jumps, turns to face Liv. She swallows hard, slides the strap of her purse so the bulk rests against the curve of her back.

“Brains have been going missing?”

She sounds completely convincing, expression morphing into one of innocent confusion, learned from years growing up as the baby sister.

“Yes.” Liv walks up the stairs, holding out a hand. “And you've been taking them.”

“I know you don't work for Blaine, since he's lost his memory.” Liv continues, the name a bind around Hannah’s heart because it's that bastard’s fault for her being dead. But the fear and anger is gone as fast as it came. It wouldn't get her anywhere in life. “So who do you work for?”

Hannah’s mouth tightens, hands holding onto the strap harder. “I don't work for anyone. That asshole made me a zombie and I need these. Noemi got tired of me smelling like a fresh grave everyday.”

Her hand that was free trembles, flexing with the memory of how much it hurt to wake up and not feel a heartbeat, how she'd had a mental breakdown while crying in her friend’s arms the following afternoon after Blaine’s voided ultimatum. Noemi had got her started on the gravedigging, but real life came calling for them both, and Hannah had to hide what happened to her no matter how “cool” she looked to Noemi and their friends.

She wouldn't go back to gravedigging for no one’s sake but her own. “You can fire me, but these brains are going with me.”

Liv stares at her, hard. Then she heads into the morgue. “Come with me.”

She hesitates, follows Liv to the little kitchenette area. Liv opens the fridge, pulling out a little container. She holds it out to Hannah.

“That was my lunch yesterday.”

Hannah looks at it, then at Liv. “I don't get it.”

“There's brain in there.” She explains. “You can take it home.”

Hannah pauses. She looks at Liv. Really looks at her, with her white hair and skin, pale lips and sunken, dark eyes.

“You… you're a zombie too.” Hannah realizes. “Why didn't I…?”

Other than Blaine, she was the only other zombie Hannah had come across. She didn't know it was even possible.

She drops the container on the counter and hugs Liv, drawing her in tight, shaking as she hides in the woman’s neck. It had been months since Hannah had hugged someone without the fear of hurting them. It felt good, even if Liv didn't return the hug.

After she calms down, she sits. They talk. Liv explains she doesn't trust Hannah, not yet. She'd need time. All Hannah wanted was someone to actually hug. Liv asks about the visions and Hannah explains she takes and mixes two or three brains so they don't happen. She doesn't want them. They scare her and the fact it strips away who she is. Liv explains Fillmore-Graves, about Blaine, her own friends and family.

“So you won't fire me?” Hannah asks when she's getting ready to finally, truly, leave. “I get to stay?”

“Yes. And are you sure you don't want Fillmore-Graves to know about you?”

Hannah nods. “Saying their name… I dunno, I don't trust them. I don't care what happened to that family of zombies. The universe is rarely lazy enough to allow such a coincidence.”

Liv stops, stares at Hannah. Actually thinks about that and the connection. “Yeah. You're right.”

Hannah smiles weakly at Liv. “I'll see you tomorrow. I might bring Noemi by since she's off.”

“Sure.” Liv notices the container left. She grabs it, holding it out to Hannah. “Here. You said you know how to cook but take it as an offer of truce.”

“We aren't at war.”

“We could have been had I jumped to conclusions too fast.”

Hannah takes the container, cradles it close. Her eyes are big when she looks at the other zombie. “Thank you.”

Liv smiles. “I'll see you at work tomorrow.”

Hannah thinks, for the first time in a while, that it's gonna be a good week.

“So it’s just supposed to… y’know, work?” Bella asks, staring up at the giant lion.

Hannah, beside her, shrugs. “That’s what Jade did.”

Bella looks at her with a nonplused expression. “You named your lion?”

Hannah crosses her arms. “If I have to be the Green Paladin, I’m naming him.”

Her friend looks skyward. “I’d rather be dealing with Georgie right now.”

“Georgie is on Earth. We are not.”

“Sadly.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

Hannah yelps, spinning to face Hayley whose hands are on her hips, looking very upset with the Green Paladin.

“Uh, this morning?”

“No you didn’t.” She points down the hall. “To the kitchen.”

Hannah groans but does as told.

Hannah parries the strike, ducking as Bailey takes another swing. She strikes forward next, a glancing blow that Bailey effectively rolls out from under. They both get several feet between them and catch their breath.

Then Bailey’s bayard powers down and Hannah drops her sword.

“Hungry?” Bailey asks.

“Starving.”

“So have you heard about that new broom back on Earth?” Hannah asks, sitting next to Stacey as she scrolls through Timbr.

Stacey looks at her, raising an eyebrow. “No?”

Hannah smiles, so wide her eyes scrunch in the corners, what bit of hazel eye you see laughing back. “It’s sweeping the nation.”

Stacey’s laughter can be heard through the castle and Hannah feels very proud of herself.

“How do you work all this?”

Amber startles at the question, looking from the panel she’d been fixing, to the Green Paladin. In a rare display, she’s dressed in the dark wash jeans, purple tank top, and black, frilled bra she’d joined the team in. Her considerably longer-than-starting-out hair had lost its brown dye and was pinned back with little braids Noemi had undoubtedly made.

“It’s pretty damn hard.” Amber says. “Takes more than a few tics to get everything in order.”

“Can you show me?”

Amber can’t help her smile. “Of course! I’m always willing to share my knowledge of the castle!”

Hannah grins at the adviser.

Now to tag the ones involved!