The Aria

Che Gelida Manina

A/N don't be scared!! I've decided the names of the chapters will be after an opera song that represents what is going on in the story since Hanna enjoys opera so much. All the songs are either in Latin, French, Italian, or something else. I'll probably also put up the youtube song for it so you can listen to it while reading. If you don't like opera, I understand. I don't really like it either, but my main character does. Sometimes the songs might also be classical. They don't truly relate to the story, so feel free to skip it.

IMPORTANT:

The misspellings such as  'iz' and 'zo' and 'arley' in Harley's speech are the results of her French accent.

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Hanna awoke to the noise of a beep that coincided exactly with  the noise of her heart. She opened her eyes to a white tile ceiling. Around her was a curtain. Hanna couldn't remember why she was there. What happened? She could remember listening to Voi Che Sapete, the song, but what after? Blood, noise, footsteps rushing down stone steps.

So, she was in the FBI's custody, presumably somewhere in America. From the stiffness in her muscles, she could assume she'd been out for a very long time. Her senses were off, she couldn't hear very well. Her reactions were slower than normal. She assumed it was anesthetics doing their work. She was grateful for that, because she assumed she would be hurting very much more without them. 

She recognised the room she was in as a 'hospital room'. She was lying in a bed surrounded by machines. The bed she was in was all white. She was in a hospital robe under the blankets. The sound of movement penetrated the room. All over, people moving, breathing, walking, living, talking, snoring, screaming. It was a big building, she could tell from it's size. So, a hospital. 

In a chair in a corner was a woman. She was dressed like a official person and was in her late 20s. She had brown hair, all back in a ponytail. 

"Good," she said, "you're awake. My name is Lieutenant Colonel Haplin." The woman smiled kindly and stood up, sticking out a hand. She didn't look like a military person, but she could be a Military Policeman. The MP worked for the military, but didn't participate in wars. 

" 'anna," Hanna said, as an introduction.

"Is that it?" Asked the Lieutenant Colonel, asking for a last name. They shook hands.

"Yes," answered Hanna.

"We have some questions we'd like you to answer," the lieutenant sounded serious. 

"Who iz 'we'?" Hanna asked. 

"The United States Government. Did you know that Louise Fransouise imported millions of dollars in drugs into America from France?"

Hanna shook her head. She'd never known anything about Louise. 

"How old are you, Hanna?" asked Haplin, changing directions quickly.

"I'm not sure." Said Hanna. She'd never kept track--she didn't know she was supposed to. This seemed to take the Lieutenant a minute to take. 

"Where did you live? Where were your parents?" 

There the were again. Titles. Parents, homes. 

"I lived in ze place you found me. I 'ave no parents."

"What were you doing there? Why is there no record of you anywhere? Why don't you have fingerprints?" 

"I'll answer zese questions, but before I do, I 'ave a question of my own. When you broke into my room, did you leave anyzing?"

"No," answered the lieutenant, "we brought everything with us." 

"May I 'ave my 'eadphones and music?" 

"I supose, as long as they have been searched and aren't needed for evidence. Why?

"I 'aven't got to finish my opera." Hanna explained.

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Several hours later Hanna had been discharged from the hospital. The wound she'd recieved from the Persuader was nearly patched up. The doctors orders were to not walk for the next week or more and to have no strenuous activity for a week longer. She had been issued a wheelchair and the Lieutenant had already transported her to a government building to be questioned. In the meanwhile, Harley had finished Voi Che Sapete and started on an aria named Che Gelida Manina. 

Soon, Hanna found herself in a interrogation room. She was mostly questioned by the great Lieutenant, but another man by the name of Sanchez was in the room, watching, and she had the feeling that the glass window in the room was two-way. 

They asked questions about everything. She told them everything she knew, which wasn't much. Who could it hurt, since the old man was dead anyway? After a while, the Lieutenant realized it was rather futile to keep questioning the girl. She didn't know anything, and was not lying. 

But still, mused the Lieutenant, she was a strange girl. If you'd let her, she would sit huddled in a corner with big headphones on listening to opera music. That was not the strangest thing--the girl had no fingerprints. They had been burned off, when she was young, it seemed. Hanna herself had no idea why she didn't have fingerprints, saying she'd thought that only some people had fingerprints. Ever since she was born, Harley had been ignorant of most of the things in the world. She'd apparently lived in a cave with minimal outside contact in Paris, France for all of her life. 

Hanna looked about sixteen years old. She was a long person, her legs and body were long. Her face was short, but sharp. Her nose was distinct and her eyes were a dark brown color. Her hair was a large, thick pile of black dreadlocks. Overall, she gave the impression of a typical French teenager. Her words were very quiet, whispered in a very French accent. Her th's were pronounced as a z. Her H's were dropped. She was pale as a ghost, her skin nearly see-through. When she'd been picked up, she was wearing black skinny jeans and a black jacket with a pop art t-shirt featuring a picture of Albert Einstein with his toungue sticking out under it. Not many clues, to say the least. 

The Lieutenant decided that Harley could neither help nor hurt her case against the deceased Louise. But where would Hanna go? She'd obviously had a very strange childhood, and now in her teenage years surely she didn't know affection, didn't know what it was like to have friends. Where would her life go?

The only thing the Lieutenant could do was put the girl up for adoption.