The Wings
Chapter 1
"Don't worry, we sanitize it." Hiccup assured Jack. "They will be clean of your sticky fingerprints before she eats off of them."
"That wasn't what I was worried about." Jack responded, distractedly tilting the stainless steel dinner ware to the side. "I mean, who says she can even get sick?"
"Who says she can't?"
"Well, she hasn't eaten anything in a year and she hasn't died yet, right?"
"Yeah, but it's all protocol, Jack. I know it's not really your job to care, but it's kind of mine. Here," Hiccup took a psychological evaluation form from a bin in his desk, attached it to a clipboard, and slapped Jack in the ribs with it. "Go and start with her I'll come in at the tail."
Jack took the form and pulled a pen from behind his ear as he walked down the hall and to the observation facility. Most of the building was vanilla-style offices with plastic plants and the scent of old carpet, but attached to the end was a massive steel door that was electronically locked. Absentmindedly he punched in the code. There was a metallic click as the gables of the locks released and the door rolled back. A recorded voice advised him that he was entering a restricted area.
On the other side of the door the halls were paneled with sheets of clean white metal. To his left was an office buzzing quietly with a swarm of other doctors and graduate students in white coats. Reaching into the pocket of his own lab coat, he pulled out his own identification lanyard and hung it around his neck, the purple and gold colors of the University of Washington grouped him the majority of other doctors at the facility.
The tiles beneath his feet were the same white as the walls, devoid of any dirt and kept immaculately clean. He waved a greeting to Tooth, the glass-wearing hyper nerd who always dressed as colorfully as she could when she wasn't in the lab. She blushed and pushed her glasses up on her nose as she returned the gesture.
At the end of the long hall was another door, this one not locked but a warning clearly printed in red on a white back.
You are entering a noise controlled environment. Please be mindful.
Jack didn't even glance at the sign as he stepped through the threshold.
The room he entered was very bare of anything including furniture. There was a white board on the far corner with a variety of colored dry erase markers and a single metal chair. Three of the walls of this room were padded to control acoustics. The fourth wall was insulated glass that looked in on the neighboring room.
This room had furnishing but in the same wedding white as the rest of the lab. There was a simple desk with a comfortable chair and a looking glass in the far corner. Adjacent was a sofa and sitting chairs with reading materials on a simple coffee table. In the very center of the room was a bed dressed in crisp cotton. She was sitting at the foot of that bed, her legs crossed her arms at her sides.
She didn't look at him. She rarely looked at him as if he was scarcely worthy of her attention. But when she did, her crystal blue eyes cut through him like a hot knife. Today her wings splayed to the sides so he could see almost their full span, the soft feathers that were rimmed with a delicate pink apple blush were gorgeous and unlike any other wing he had seen on earth. Her hair, the color of spun silver was free at her shoulders and obscured her supple cheeks. The dress she wore never failed to halt his breath. A glorious thing in and of itself, the movement made him think of silk, but the shimmer that came off of the material was ethereal. Her easy grace and beauty made Jack guilty morning after morning that the majority of the time he wore the same shirt he slept in.
"Well, good morning."
No response. He looked at his clipboard and noted her silence in the box provided for their exchange. He had many filing cabinets of reports saying the exact same thing that this report surely would; that she refused to speak.
"Did you sleep well?"
She blinked. Well, that was something. He marked it on the paper. Hiccup and the other medical students had performed a full physical on her when she first arrived and determined she did indeed have vocal cords, but it was completely possible that her race didn't communicate using verbal language.
He pondered for a moment if he could write his thesis on the language of blinking. Possible, but a headache that wasn't worth the grade.
"I'm sure you are familiar with me by now, my name is Jack." He said, the same practiced words he said five days a week to her. "If you have a name, I would like to learn it. If not, I would like to find something we can call you."
Silence still and long.
Jack continued to try and strike up conversation for another hour. All of the words he spoke were things he pulled from an approved list that was now engraved in his memory. None of them ever evoked a response from her and he didn't expect today to be any different.
After a full hour of painfully one-sided conversation, the watch around Jack's wrist began to beep. He turned off the alarm and checked the time. "Well," He said. "We have had a lovely talk today, but our time has ended today."
He stood to go. From the beginning to the end she had barely moved. She was still sitting on the edge of the bed looking in the same direction but now her legs were uncrossed, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
"Uh, look," Jack said. "I'm really not supposed to say this since there are people watching, but all I want is to understand who you are and how we, I mean I, can help you. I hate writing these reports that say we cannot intelligently communicate with you because I can see in your eyes that you hear everything I say and you understand but you willingly do not respond. I don't know why that is, but I want to know and I want to help you, and that begins with a name if you have one."
As he talked, she had slowly turned her head so that her eyes came to rest directly on him. Her supple red lips were soft and straight, her skin blushed like a rose. She raised a hand and touched the glass that separated them with one pale finger. Tendrils of ice blossomed from her fingertip, dancing across the glass to write a word in delicate calligraphy.
Elsa.
A/N: Hooray for side projects! This is an idea I have been toying with forever but never like the beginning. This was just a quick project but I would love any feedback and comments you guys have. :)