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The first time Finn picks up Jake, he starts nibbling gently on Finn’s metal arm. Finn reacts instinctively, throwing Jake away from him as hard as he can. It was lucky the pile of straw had been there.
Finn doesn’t pick Jake up anymore.
Finn couldn’t stop hearing voices.
Finn doesn't know how to play the flute anymore. He’d just— forgotten. He abandons the attempt quickly. His flute goes in a dusty old box with his blue shirt and pants. They don’t fit him anymore.
Finn’s backpack had gone missing. He’d had it… before, but now he doesn’t. It must still lay abandoned somewhere, crusted with half-melting ice crystals. Finn doesn’t really use backpacks anymore. He doesn’t remember why he’d carried around enough things to warrant a backpack. There’s a lot of things Finn doesn’t remember.
Not everyone who had been frozen by the Snowman had survived when the great thawing came.
The ice just trapped them, it hadn’t killed them, but the Snowman’s reign had lasted almost two years. The ice didn’t have to step in when nature could take its course.
There had been mass burial services and a desperate scramble for frostbite cure. Limbs had to be amputated, children had been separated from parents, parents wandered the lands, searching for their children. Partners desperately begged for answers about their loved ones. Were they dead? Were they missing?
In the chaos, the remaining members of Destiny Gang pulled themselves together and began looting anything and everything they could. With torches, they would melt their way into frozen and long abandoned houses, grabbing anything worth value.
Rival gangs quickly began to form. Everyone was divided and fighting for themselves. In the end, Big Destiny crowned himself the winner– the hero, the vanquisher of the Snowman and the ender of the long winter.
The Snowman quickly became public enemy number one.
Even as the town slowly got back on its feet, the fear was still there. There were countless shortages of firewood from all the desperate people hoarding their only defence against the cruel cold of times past.
The explosion from the dormant bomb spread massive craters and cracks all around the land. Great gaps in the terrain re-shaped the world, permanently altering its form. Rivers of toxic waste and radiation only added to the dangerous landscape.
In the early days, before the radiation went back to more normal levels, it wasn’t uncommon to see skeletons littering the roads on the outskirts of town from people suddenly struck down by toxic fumes on their attempts to escape the icy remains of the Snowman’s reign.
16 year old Finn Mertens laid low in the ash-coated remains of his parent’s house and waited for the townsfolk to kill him.
He’d understand if they did. He just wanted to spend his last few moments alive with his family. He held them close, sobbing his constant apologies between trembling breaths. His parents held him gently, but there was nothing they could say. They had no words that could absolve his guilt.
The only thing about dying that made Finn feel kind of bad was that Other Finn had tried so hard to help him out. It felt kind of unappreciative to go get himself killed after all the effort Other Finn went to in order to keep him alive.
But Other Finn had disappeared in a multi-coloured flash of light, so it wasn’t like he’d ever find out. (Probably.)
But the townsfolk don’t kill Finn. They’d wanted to, but Big Destiny had put his foot down. He’d seen what Finn could do with the power of the crown, and he’d felt the possession of the Lich. He had no desire to provoke Finn again. He was content to be the leader and renowned hero of the wasteland. He didn’t need to be the slayer of the beast too.
Not when the beast had already slayed so many others for less.
Finn Mertens glares down at the still-sharp nails on his good hand. He aches to rake his flesh and tear himself apart. If the townsfolk wouldn’t do it, Finn would have to do it himself.
From across the room, Jake whines at him, looking up with sad eyes.
Finn sighs and drops his hand, convinced he’s making the wrong decision. There’s just no place in this new world for the person Finn’s become.
But for Jake, Finn will stay. At least for a little bit.
His name is Finn Mertens.
Jake is Finn’s best friend.
Finn’s whole thing is that he tried to help people. (Emphasis on tried.)
“We can still fix this.” Other Finn had said.
But Other Finn could only fix so much. The rest was on this Finn. And he didn’t know if he could shoulder the weight.
So Finn did the only practical thing he could.
He kept going.
Finn still hears the voices. They never left. They tell him the secrets of the ice and snow. Finn tries hard to ignore them.
Finn had managed to save Bartrum from the explosion. He remembers that. In a moment of clarity, he’d put his family onto the mule and sent Bartrum far away.
But his parents had been smashing their way out of the ice as soon as the crown had vanished. Bartrum wasn’t with them. Finn had concluded that he must’ve killed Bartrum.
Finn takes a walk one day, trying to escape the noises no one else could hear, and he’s startled by a braying right above his head. Finn looks up. Bartrum is in the canopy of a tree. “Bar-Bar!” Finn shouts in shock. The mule brays again and starts to climb down from his usual spot. The weirdo liked to climb trees. Finn had forgotten that. Bartrum gets close to Finn, his soft nose sniffing him curiously. Then Bartrum leans his head on Finn’s shoulder. Finn clings to him and sobs. The only good thing to come out of all this was that Finn got to keep the mule.
Even as Finn clings desperately to Bartrum, his shoulders shaking with long-repressed sobs, he can’t help but feel sick at his presence. If Finn had just done the simple thing and sold him, none of this would have ever happened.
Isn’t it ironic that in the end Finn had gotten exactly what he’d hoped for? He had his mule, the Destiny Gang no longer tried to attack Finn’s family. Even Jake had been miraculously returned to him in a way that hurt his head every time he tried to recall, so he just didn’t.
Glob, spoiled Finn Mertens. The villain of the story who had somehow gotten everything he wanted and a second chance.
No wonder his parents didn’t want anything to do with him.
Someone had graffitied a message on the outskirts of town: “Beware the Snowman!”
Finn doesn’t go into town very much anymore.
Finn used to live closer to town with his parents. Destiny Gang would shout insults at him from the front gate. Finn and his parents jerk awake one night to the sound of broken glass and a damaged window.
Finn lives far away from town now. Destiny Gang learns to ignore Finn’s parents. Jake enjoys the larger field to run in. Bartrum still climbs trees.
Finn’s parents never speak about him. When new people move into town and assume Finn’s sibling is an only child, they don’t correct them.
One rookie member of Destiny Gang manages to tail Finn to his new home. Finn hangs their skeleton on his front gate. He hasn’t been tailed since.
The voices won’t. Stop. Talking.
Sometimes Finn would lay awake at night, unsettled by the silence of his empty house, and wonder about the Other Finn. Where was he now? Other Finn had told him that they had a lot to talk about. Was that supposed to be a good talk or a bad talk? Other Finn had saved his life, so the guy must not hate him all the way. What a shining example of everything Finn could have been if he hadn’t been such a fool and donked everything up.
It sure was something to know your screw-up wasn’t a universal constant, and that you were the only one to bung things up that bad.
He tries to forget about it.
He can’t.
The soles of Finn’s feet are calloused and chapped. They’re perpetually cold and on bad days they still tinge faintly blue. Finn finds a pair of boots. He doesn’t like to go barefoot anymore.
Finn’s eyes weren’t always blue. His mom’s are brown. His dad’s are brown. His sibling’s are brown.
Finn’s wife’s eyes are brown.
The first time Finn sees his eldest child, the first thing he notices is the child’s blue eyes.
Finn wants to throw something.
He doesn’t.
Finn hears laughing sometimes, crazed and manic. He shoves his good hand into boiling water for as long as he can stand, watching with satisfaction as his skin turns red. By the time his hand feels cold again –Because his skin was always cold– the laughing has almost stopped.
Finn always knows the day before the first snow of the season. His children have learned not to question him when he calls them outside to help him bring the cattle in for the winter. He’s never been wrong.
When Jay comes home from his first solo trip into town, his arms laden with books, he looks up at Finn with wide blue eyes. “What’s the Snowman?” He asks innocently. “I saw some graffiti in town and I-“
Finn sets the potato he’d been peeling down on the cutting board abruptly. “Nothing. Don’t ask me that again.” Finn walks out of the kitchen. A faint cackling has started to echo in his head. Finn ignores it and goes out to feed the cows. He aches to submerge his hand in boiling water.
The name “Gunter” doesn’t ever seem to leave Finn’s head, which is weird because Gunter’s not a real name at all. Regardless, every time he looks at the cows in the pasture, he finds himself mentally calling them Gunter. All the chickens are named Gunter, as are the two pigs they keep in the pigpen. Even the scarecrow is named Gunter.
When Finn wakes up in the morning to do a mental check of the kids and make sure everyone’s accounted for, the thought always crosses his mind: “Wait! You forgot Gunter!”
One time in the middle of the night, Bonnie shook him awake from the side of the bed. “Can I sleep with you?” She had asked, soft and a little fearful, clutching her plush toy like a lifeline.
Still half-asleep, Finn had shifted over with a soft grunt, smiling gently at her, patting the now vacant space. “Sure. Climb in, Gunter.”
Finn was suddenly wide awake.
Bonnie had giggled and obliged, thinking it was just some funny nickname, and she went right to sleep.
Finn couldn’t. He lay awake throughout the night, horrified and disgusted.
He couldn’t say for sure, because he can’t remember everything, but he thinks it’s a word that thing put in his head. If he screws up hard enough, he can almost hear a teenaged, overly excitable voice yelling “Gunter says we just need a few more gems!”
Finn leaves Bonnie alone in bed at first light, out even before the rooster calls.
The cows aren’t named anything. Finn milks them. The chickens don’t have names either. Finn collects their eggs. The two pigs are just that: Pigs. Finn drops food in their trough.
The scarecrow stares Finn down across the cornfield.
An involuntary exhale escapes Finn’s nose.
Gunter was keeping the crows at bay just fine, Finn thinks.
The basket of eggs crunches to the ground, bleeding yellow yolks.
With the crossbow attachment on his metal arm, Finn hunts in the woods for the rest of the day. The dark shadows of the forest feel colder than usual.
He doesn’t slow his pace. He keeps walking. Going as far away from it all as he can get.
Finn tries not to go into town if he can help it. He would rather send the older kids now that they’ve matured enough to not go poking into things they shouldn’t. He’s not worried about them getting hurt by Destiny or any of the other wannabe gangs out there. No one would be stupid enough to harm his kids. Finn’s always more worried about what they could find out, going into town like that.
People still tell stories sometimes when topics for gossip are scarce.
But sometimes Finn needs a specific tool or a type of bolt or any number of things that he just can’t trust the kids to find.
Those are the bad days.
Finn goes early, covers up, tugs his baseball cap low over his eyes and curses his broad shoulders.
People still notice him, of course. He can never blend in for long. Something about the shade of blue in his eyes draws glances. Or maybe it’s the fact his nails are still slightly triangular.
(Finn’s even heard people whisper that a cold wind seems to follow him wherever he goes. And indeed, he’s caught people shivering on a summer’s day, wrapping cloaks and shawls closer to themselves and ducking their heads.)
People draw back with wide eyes. Shops and stands close early for the day. Whispers follow Finn like icy snowflakes, and for once Finn knows they’re not just in his head.
Children run, babies cry. The Destiny Gang lines the rooftops and tall structures, watching silently, every hand trained on the handle of a weapon.
Finn always looks up then, searching for the tallest silhouette. Him and Big Destiny lock eyes. Finn allows the cold piercing quality of his eyes to skewer the older man who had caused him and his family so much heartache. For once, Finn’s grateful for the fact that not all of the crown’s changes had been lifted from him.
He always sees the quickly repressed flash of fear on Big Destiny’s face, no matter how carefully he tries to cover it up.
Big Destiny always reluctantly raises his hand, and Destiny Gang retreats, allowing Finn to buy his essentials from the remaining townsfolk who are too desperate for the money to refuse his service.
There’s no small talk, there’s no haggling. Finn gives a fair price and takes what he needs, leaving his coins in shaking hands. No words need to be exchanged.
Finn’s children know that on Town days they have to be good and do their chores without complaint.
Finn will come back from town and lock himself in the barn with his work.
Sometimes no words at all will pass Finn’s lips on those days.
There’s just nothing to say.
Sometimes Finn dreams about the moment the crown was knocked off his head.
He relives the confusion, and then the realization and the horror. Every time his dream-self turns around to survey the destruction he’s created, he’s filled with revulsion. Bodies encased in ice making the world’s most horrible tower into the sky, each person’s expression frozen in horror. The ice beneath his bare feet bites him with its coldness. His skin is pale blue.
The worst part is that every time, just for a second, the thought comes back: well I only froze them to save them. I’ll let them all out when we make it to the other world!
And then Finn looks closer at the ice blocks towards the bottom of the tower that’s two years in the making, and he sees the rotting corpses.
The two Finns blast the horrifying monstrosity that was once Jake back to normal, and the Lich cries out in agony. The sound scares Finn much more than the sight of the magic contraption that did it.
Other Jake laughs. “You’re welcome!” And he’s gone in a multicoloured flash of light. Finn tries hard not to think about the implications of his dog being sentient in other universes.
Other Finn looks gently at Finn, his eyes wide with guilt and emotion and so much love for this alternate version of himself that it makes Finn feel a little sick. “We have a lot to talk about,” Other Finn always says, but they never do talk. In a flash of light, Other Finn follows Other Jake where Finn can’t follow, leaving him to deal with the aftermath on his own.
Finn stares at the crown in his hands, filled with such revulsion it makes him feel physically ill, and he throws it away from himself as hard as he can.
The satisfying clang of metal on ice never comes. There’s never a clean resolution. The crown just disappears, leaving only loose ends.
When Finn jerks awake from these dreams, the first thing he always does is check to make sure his skin’s not still blue.
The crown’s been gone for fourteen years. There’s children alive today that were born after the Snowman’s reign.
Finn’s children are among them.
Finn takes a deep breath and once again chooses the practical option:
He keeps going.
For Jake, for his children, for his now dead wife, for Other Finn, and maybe, in a few more years, he’ll start to keep going for himself.
But for now, it’ll have to be enough that Jake needs to be fed every morning and he’s never accepted his food from anyone but Finn. He hasn’t since he was a puppy, small and half-wild with his ribs clearly visible.
His whole thing is that he wants to help people, remember?
And yes, Finn does.
It’ll have to be enough.