AN: Woo! I managed an update. It's weird when you can write the drama/dialogue scenes faster than the action scenes though. Then again, my action scenes can get quite involved, so maybe it makes sense. Anyways, enjoy the ride, and if you feel like leaving a review, please do.
Elsa staggered out of the sim, it was dark, dim red-orange activity lights overhead straining her eyes to see anything properly. The floor was covered in stacks of discarded material and new module casings alike, techs scrambling to patch the room back together after the damage the Redeye had taken over Yuma several days earlier. Still recovering her equilibrium, Elsa stumbled against a shin high crate, cursing loudly as she began to fall. She was surprised to feel lithe, strong arms catching her before she hit the deck.
"You still alright all up in there?" A familiar and mildly annoying voice asked, the owner of it tapping the side of her head. Elsa brushed at her hair, trying to be rid of the phantom touch the other woman had left there. "I saw the feeds. MacAllan is something else inside a Titan."
Anna wasn't wrong; MacAllan was insane. Elsa had been fighting him for the past two hours. He'd been fighting back, starting at two-on-one, escalating to six-on-one in Titan combat. He could do things with his Titan that simply weren't considered possible. She knew the sim had been hacked somewhat to allow him to use his first generation skills, but if that was how he really fought—if that was what the Titan Wars were really like—then maybe they were lucky he'd chosen to retire. Luckier still that he decided this ragtag bunch of misfits was worth fighting for. Then again, her former superiors had caused a whole heap of problems for him—and gone so far as to make the war personal by attacking his colonists. Friends, families, people he knew and cared about.
"You're right, Corazon, he's insane. Worse than you."
"You must be okay then, you're still rude." And Anna punched her in the arm, taking her by the shoulders. "But right now, I don't care. Oh, and you could really use a shower—you kinda stink."
Elsa just rolled her eyes, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. Of course she could use a damn shower, she'd been stuck in an overheated sim pod for two hours. It was a surprise her clothes hadn't just decided to glue themselves to her. Close enough, with the way the ship's environmental systems were still playing up. But Anna's comment—it wasn't that she'd said it, but that she'd said it in front of everyone else decanting from their sim pods. Sure, they all needed showers, but no need to be quite so blunt about it.
"Thanks for pointing that out," Elsa's tone was acid, and she huffed angrily, considering whether or not she should actually slap the other woman. No. better not. She'd probably like it.
"Not my fault our sims have these issues."
Elsa grunted in annoyance, but allowed herself to be led back to their quarters, where she took a well deserved and much needed shower. She almost didn't care how badly Anna was trying to ogle her body—even if it was only a generic cosmetic clone, and not her actual form. It was kind of flattering. Especially after getting her ass comprehensively handed to her by MacAllan. That would smart for a while. She was a good Pilot, specializing in long range Titan support tactics and anti-Titan dueling. While washing her hair she idly wondered if perhaps Corazon might have done better. She was much better at skirmish combat, and MacAllan seemed to have a preference for heavy, point based attacks and stonewall defenses. Probably not, she mused. He can move that Ogre like it's a fucking ballerina; or gorilla, swinging from the support beams like that.
Some time later, both women lying on their respective bunks, an urgent call sounded across the intercom. It was MacAllan.
"Attention All personnel. My name is James MacAllan, you have saved lives these past days, and we are all in your debt. Now I'm gonna return the favour—I'm going to help you beat the IMC. Every small victory has been offset by the IMC's superior numbers, with reinforcements arriving daily from Demeter. I believe we can bring the fight to them. I believe we can change the balance of power on the Frontier." Elsa heard a small cheer coming from the bunk beneath her. She wasn't going to cheer just yet, but she was heartened by MacAllan's words. If he believed it, so could she—and maybe she could make up for the sins of her past.
MacAllan wasn't done talking, and the way he phrased his next words made it sound like his so called friend might not be so willing to follow him this time.
"We're headed to Angel City to acquire Barker, an old compatriot of mine who believes, as I do, that the IMC's reign cannot last forever. Pilots, prepare to deploy. Let's get it done. MacAllan out."
Barker, as it turned out, was far from willing to aid MacAllan, especially after they'd had to drag him from his seat at the nearest bar to the Angel City docks. He sounded half-drunk as he shouted his protests at MacAllan.
"I'm through with the Frontier! Ya hear me MacAllan? I'm through!" It was at this point the Atlas crouched behind him lifted him by the back of his shirt. The Grunts guarding Barker turned to MacAllan.
"Damn… this guy smells. You know him or something?"
"Yeah…" MacAllan took his time in replying, as if he was trying to remember what it was that made coming all this way worthwhile after being confronted with how far off the rails his old friend had gone. "Barker was my wingman in the Titan wars."
Barker, for his part, was still complaining. "I'm gonna kick all your asses!" His shouts were laced with consternation as the Atlas holding him dropped him into the sewers beneath the city. "Hey what do you think you're doing?"
Anna turned to Elsa, giving her a questioning look. The blonde—her mind now in a war clone—could only shrug. She didn't know anything more than her erstwhile companion at this point. Anna sighed, racking the bolt on her Spitfire. She missed what Barker was complaining about, but caught that MacAllan considered him an impressively capable pilot—so not a Titan Pilot anymore. Interesting.
"Ok, let's move people!" the Atlas Pilot shouted, sealing the hatch to his Titan. "Let's buy 'em some time!"
MacAllan dived into the manhole after Barker, dragging the cover back into place with a loud clang. His commanding voice crackled across the tactical net. "Ok Bish, package on the way. Start the music."
Anna watched as Elsa took a single step forward, her weight shifting precariously until she kicked off with her back foot, ignited her jetpack, and flipped sideways through the air, landing feet first against a low dividing wall between the dockyard road, and the nearest market building. A subtle haze enveloped her friend's war clone, and her speed peaked as she surged along the wall, moving like a molten silver blur to burst through the second floor window of the market building, rolling to absorb the impact before bouncing off the rear wall and out through a hatch on the roof. In another life she would have sworn Elsa could have been a dancer. Not only was she fast, she was amazingly graceful.
"All Pilots, keep the IMC distracted topside until we get the all clear." Bish's voice crackled over the radio. "Good luck."
MacAllan's voice came across loud and clear, full of confidence in his new allies. "Good luck people, give 'em hell. MacAllan out."
"Ready, Kristoff?" Anna called out, unaware her friend was already moving to a good overwatch position.
"You get a little distracted watching someone down there?" She could just see his knowing grin.
"That obvious?" She could feel her cheeks flush slightly, but at least now her mind was on her mission—eliminate the IMC, buy time for MacAllan to extract Barker. And now she was moving, sprinting, activating her cloak as she moved from cover to cover, scanning low for enemies. There, past the central holosign column. Spectres, Grunts, and a—she didn't even think, left hand whipping past her hip and throwing a satchel charge at the cluster of IMC combatants. Her right hand squeezed the detonator just as the charge sailed over the first of the Spectres, and a punishing concussion drove her back, staggering. A loud crack from overhead told her Kristoff finished what she'd started.
A body from the highest roof in front of her landed with a wet thud. A Militia Pilot leapt from the roof, firing her jet pack in mid-air, striking the face of the opposite building—just to Anna's right—before sprinting along the face of that building, C.A.R. spewing lead at a pair of unfortunate IMC Grunts. Anna was moving again, sprinting, breathing steady with her enhanced physique. There was a doorway, and a counter in the lower level of the building the IMC Pilot had just been thrown from. There was a door to the left, and before she had time to react, an IMC Pilot charged through, firing an EVA-8 Shotgun from the hip, filling the room—and her war clone—with lead.
She blinked, back onboard the Redeye, at least for a few seconds, gathering her weapons and pondering if she should use one of her combat didacts or amped weapons. No, it's early. No need for it yet. She jumped into the warpfall curtain, emerging in a warehouse stacked with large containers. At least the sides were, the front and back had enough space to move a Titan through. Speaking of which… she checked her build timer. Another two minutes until she could call down Olaf. Time to wreck the IMC.
Elsa landed hard, staggering from the impacts against her leg, rolling sideways and using her jetpack to snap-turn, facing her attacker, an IMC Pilot armed with an R-97 SMG. Prodigious rate of fire, but poor stopping power at any real range. Which wouldn't normally have been a problem, except for the fact that her C.A.R. was dry, and she only had two mags of pistol ammo left to work with. It was also suicidal to try and close the range for a jump-kick. All that became moot when a Kraber round ripped through her spine, shattered her sternum and sprayed gore on the asphalt in front of her. As consolation the last thing her war clone saw was the tracer from a Longbow DMR passing through the IMC Pilot in front of her. Apparently they'd interrupted a sniper duel.
Grabbing her weapons, Elsa tore out of the clone bay, sprinting into the construction hangar. Marshmallow hung at the ready, slung from two points at each shoulder. The missile pod on the Ogre's left shoulder looked just a little larger than usual, but she paid it no mind. Militia Titans were, after all, not quite as standardized as IMC gear. The hatch was open, so she jumped, firing her jetpack, swinging around on the grab rail, pulling the cockpit closed. Display screens blinked diagnostics as she felt the bottom drop out of the world. Fire roared, and the thunder of transonic entry boomed in her ears.
She felt the shock of landing through every reinforced bone in her heavily enhanced body, blinking away a moment of dizziness as the cockpit displays blanked and then showed the outside world. She was in the middle of the container yard, and a quick look gave her six possible paths, only two of which were useful for actually entering the engagement. She chose neither, because her role was long ranged support, and to do that she needed space to manoeuvre, as well as cover to fall back behind if enemies advanced too close.
Pushing both joysticks forward, she powered her Titan into a ponderous run, ground shaking with every step, passing through a large warehouse with containers stacked against the outer walls. Sarah's voice cut across the tactical net as Elsa swung right outside the warehouse, pounding down the street towards a pedestrian overbridge at the far end.
"Bish, I'm tracking MacAllan's team in the sewers. They're doing OK so far. Our topside diversion is definitely working."
Bish's reply was instant. "Copy that. Keep your fingers crossed…"
It was then that Elsa saw the massive ping on her radar in the southwest quadrant of the city. The IMC had brought down at least one Titan. She knew where she needed to be. Almost at the overbridge she cut hard right, her Ogre lurching slightly left as she had to arrest some momentum as she turned. The central building to her right gave way to a courtyard with a large holosign tower in the middle, while on her left a network of commercial and residential dock buildings opened up into a large avenue with a diagonal cut and a parking area. In that avenue were three Titans—two Atlases and a Stryder.
"Warning! You are outnumbered three-to-one." Elsa didn't need the AI to tell her the odds.
Elsa yanked the controls back, hitting her boosters, her Titan slamming over a gutted car in the street, automatically correcting its balance. Her vortex shield engaged as the IMC Titans flushed their ordnance, rockets and missiles streaking across the short distance, swirling in the energy flow of the shield, momentum vectors shifting back towards their firers. At the same time Elsa swept the targeting reticle across her assailants, achieving full lock with her multi-target missiles. Then the system kept generating additional locks, and the Stryder popped smoke, attempting to break the lock, but it was too late. A split second earlier Elsa had released both triggers, and four waves of high explosive ordnance slammed into the IMC Titans, who now had nowhere to hide.
Each was down to only twenty-odd percent armour, but their combined firepower was enough to strip the shields and flay the armour from Elsa's Ogre in seconds. The first railgun round cored the Stryder, punching clean through the cockpit and the reactor behind it, dooming it. Impacts shook her Titan like a giant's plaything, but even as the warning flashed up on her HUD she was still firing, ignoring the ejection prompt. She was going to finish this. One Atlas paused to reload, and that was all the opening she needed. A Plasma Railgun round pierced the Titan's shoulder, armour falling away as the entire arm fell, hitting the pavement with a heavy thud, stirring up a massive cloud of dust.
"Enemy Pilot has ejected. Enemy Titan Down. Critical Damage. Take Cover." It was a bit late for that warning, Elsa's Titan was already doomed. She didn't need the running tally either.
Her Titan halfway burnt out through its doomed state, Elsa continued to fight, taking one step forward before throwing all her weight into her right arm. Her Titan followed suit, dropping the railgun as useless, and burying an armoured fist deep in the enemy Atlas's torso, tearing out vital control components and governing linkages. Three quarters doomed, and only then did she look down, her left hand automatically slamming the reactor overload failsafe while her right yanked the ejection lever. The telltale glow of a nuclear ejection grew beneath her, obliterating what remained of the IMC Titans, scorching the building facades down the broad avenue. She let out a ragged breath. That had been fucking intense, and the only thing she could compare it to was fighting against MacAllan.
Except his Titan would have survived.
Landing on the highest roof, just east of where her Titan had been destroyed, Elsa surveyed the battlefield. And that was when she felt every hair on her body stand on end, and a weird resonance that made her jaw ache. There was only one thing that caused that kind of reaction, and she dived from the roof, not wanting to be caught on high if she was right.
Anna staggered, putting a hand out against a wrecked car to steady herself, Spitfire roaring as she mowed down the IMC Pilot in front of her. She had rounded the corner into the street, under a covered walkway, coming from a narrow alley between two buildings opposite the central courtyard of the district. In the distance she could see what little remained of a massive Titan combat, impact marks and blasted building facades. Then Sarah's voice cut over the tactical net, equal parts consternation and deep concern.
"Bish, I'm picking up a MASSIVE incoming jump signature directly above the city. I don't know what it is, but it's… big… and whoa, heads up!"
Looking to the skies Anna saw exactly what it was, and knew Sarah had every right to be concerned about their plans. An IMC supercarrier, the Sentinel, most likely, had just executed a transatmospheric jump and was now launching fighters and patrol craft.
Bish's voice crackled over the tactical channel. "Oh great. Mac, an IMC carrier just jumped in… you better get Barker outta there quick!"
Anna ran across the street, dodging between two IMC Grunts, kicking one hard against the courtyard wall, breaking every bone in his body, emptying her RE-45's entire magazine into the other. She reloaded, activating her cloak, and headed south. MacAllan's voice, somewhat distant, sounded over the radio.
"Copy that. We're moving out! Advise fighters to target the supercarrier's aft stabilizer."
"MacAllan, our fighters can't take the Sentinel down. There's no way." Sarah couldn't believe what she was being asked to do.
"They don't have to take her down. Just hurt her."
Anna frowned behind her mask—just why did they only have to hurt the Sentinel? What was MacAllan playing at? He'd told them he would help them drive the IMC out of the Frontier, but that only worked by destroying ships, not merely damaging them.
"It's a suicide mission." Sarah apparently shared her views.
"Trust me—launch the fighters." Anna wasn't sure who to trust, but MacAllan was a hero, and a tactical genius, so he obviously knew something none of them were privy to.
"Sarah, he's in command now." Bish's voice cut over any protest, reinforcing the trust he placed MacAllan's abilities. "I'm launching the fighters. Hornets, target the Sentinel's aft stabilizer."
Overhead Anna could see Militia Raven fighters, based on repurposed Crow dropships, engaging in high speed aerial duels with IMC Phantom fighters and Viper support craft. Jump drives on the Ravens gave the Militia pilots the unique ability to Blink between two close points using a microsecond jump. IMC Phantoms countered this with VTOL maneuverability and blindingly fast acceleration profiles. The Ravens could also make longer Blink-jumps, swapping position from dueling a Phantom to unleashing everything they had at the Sentinel's port quarter, explosions ripping into the massive ship's drive stabilizer.
In the distance Anna could see the silhouette of an enemy Titan, and having had clearance for some time now, decided it was time to call in her own mount. Her hand had just picked up the beacon when she saw the silhouette fan out into four more Titans. One was separated from the others, and she leapt at the wall, running along it, Spitfire in hand. A burst from her jetpack landed her on the Ogre's back, and she wasted no time in tearing off the maintenance access panel beneath her. Rodeo attacks like this were exactly what the Spitfire had been designed for. Sure, it was useful for suppressive fire at long range, but its large calibre armour piercing rounds worked best against targets of steel, not flesh. Thirty rounds, and change. As that Pilot ejected, Anna threw her beacon into the alley—the same alley Elsa had fought in.
She clung to the wall, watching as her Titan fell from the sky, fire and smoke trailing from the drop pod. An IMC Atlas advanced menacingly towards her, bringing its chaingun up. One and a half seconds. Anna jumped out from the wall, tumbling in mid-air, watching as the IMC Pilot started tracking her movement. He should have been looking up. Her Stryder plowed through the Atlas from on high, reducing it to so much scrap, sowing shrapnel throughout the area as the dome shield flared to life. She ran, heavy impacts chipping the asphalt behind her. Inside the dome shield she crouched, leaning backwards and sliding forwards between her Titan's legs into its waiting hand.
The cockpit sealed with a quiet hiss, and all her displays sprang to life, outlining every nearby structure before locking onto the IMC Titans as enemy targets. Titans currently engaging a Militia Atlas armed with a burst fire 40mm cannon. Kristoff. Two IMC Titans, and they were no longer paying attention to their rear. Arc Cannon, Cluster Missile. Lightning arced between both Titans as submunitions peppered the area with small explosions. One Atlas turned, Triple Threat launching multiple Titan grenades towards Anna's Stryder.
"Dance, Olaf," she commanded, jetting back, then sideways.
"Warning! Another Titan is engaging you." The AI warned her, and she whirled, a quad rocket salvo slamming into her Titan's left arm. She held the trigger on the right control column, charging her Arc Cannon. An instant before she released it, the boxy launcher on the enemy Stryder's shoulder opened, cluster missile spiraling out. Lightning arced from the IMC Titan to the missile it had just fired, detonating it in mid-air, turning its effects against its firer.
The grenade danger indicator splashed across her screen, and she dashed forwards, popping smoke as she reached an intersection, cutting right and sprinting to the end of the street. Another right took her under a pedestrian overbridge, and into the dead land next to the district walls. Behind all the buildings at the far south of the docks. And following the path around there she came to a market bazaar, with a hotel and other accommodation flanking her left and right. Directly forwards, to the north, was more dead land, grassy, trash drifting in the wind, with a solitary tree next to a substation housing.
"Okay Pilots, we're doing well," Bish's voice updated them on the tactical channel. "Nothing short of a miracle will save the IMC."
Anna drove her Titan forwards, past the bazaar, into the dead land flanking the urbanized portion of the docks. An impact rocked her Stryder, stripping most of its shields. The AI informed her an enemy Pilot was attacking her, and she saw the telltale orange glow of a charge rifle. Just within Arc Cannon range. Half charge. Just over. She dashed forwards, reticle glowing red as she bracketed the IMC Pilot. Lightning flashed across the distance in an instant, obliterating the Pilot.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a dozen ships emerging from jump in wedge formation, drives still spinning down as they advanced. An unfamiliar voice crackled across every radio channel.
"All Militia Forces: Third Merchant Fleet at your service. We'll take it from here."
Every Raven in the skies suddenly jumped for the safety of orbit, and rendezvous with the Redeye. The Third Merchant Fleet advanced on the Sentinel, and Anna suddenly understood why MacAllan had said they only needed to hurt her—he needed to buy time for his reinforcements to arrive, and arrive they had. Missiles and torpedoes streaked across the sky, slamming into the Sentinel, massive chunks of the supercarrier breaking loose and falling into the ocean where she had been holding station. Heavy cannons fired, rounds slamming into the Sentinel's aft stabilizer. With agonizing slowness that stabilizer began to turn, rotating from vertical, slowly driving the supercarrier forwards as well as up. All four stabilizers were now in line. The Third Merchant Fleet launched another missile salvo.
And the Sentinel was gone. Missiles spiraled out of control, detonating as their IFF computers found no valid targets. Air rushed into the space the supercarrier had vacated with an echoing thunderclap. Bish's excited voice came over the tactical channel, the static taking nothing from it.
"Okay Pilots, our little diversion—and by diversion I mean total ass whooping—was a complete success. Mac?"
"Package is secure. See you back at the base. MacAllan out."
They'd done it. They'd taken the fight to the IMC for the first time, and now they'd won a resounding victory. Not only had they extracted Barker under heavy fire, they'd crippled an IMC supercarrier at the same time. A supercarrier, Anna realized, that had been meant to stop them from escaping or getting Barker away safely. MacAllan had known exactly what to do in order to mitigate that risk. He'd even had allied ships on standby—ships that weren't part of the Frontier Militia—standing by, which also meant… Holy shit. He knew. Anna blinked, feeling the imminent pull of a Ripcord extraction. He knew.
"Where the fuck were you down there?" Elsa loaded all her anger into a stare that could have melted steel.
"The hell are you asking?" Anna shot right back. "Just running around like a headless chicken down there."
"I take point. It's my job!" Elsa slammed a fist against the wall of their quarters, eliciting a curse from the far side of the partition. "I expect my wingman to cover me. That's what your Spitfire is for. Covering Fire!"
"Like you fucking needed any." Anna had moved dangerously close, her turquoise eyes brimming with fire, almost daring Elsa to take that final step. "I saw you. You like being alone there. You don't think anyone can keep up with you!"
"Because they can't!" Elsa closed the gap. They were so close a single deep breath could have made their bodies touch. "Everyone just goes away! I can't rely on anyone else. Not even you!"
"Bitch." Elsa blinked. It felt far, far worse than if Anna had simply hit her. She wished she had, so she could rub away the sting. It was spoken barely above a whisper, and with such bitter disappointment Elsa wondered if she'd just managed to destroy everything in this new life she was trying to start. Yes, dad would be so fucking proud right now. Elsa rolled her eyes at the sarcastic thought. She could see Anna fighting to hold back tears. The redhead bit her lip, turning away, and Elsa thought she was going to tell her to leave. She sagged against the wall, sliding to the floor, burying her head in her hands, leaving Elsa very confused.
Then she asked the most dangerous question of all.
"Why?"
Elsa didn't want to answer. Every time she'd told her story she'd gotten little sympathy, or mockery and derision. The IMC needed strong Pilots; but they didn't necessarily have to be stable. Aptitude on the field could make up for any character flaws off it. Pilots were kept apart from the general population anyway. It dehumanized them, made them better soldiers. But they had been people too, with lives, friends, hopes and dreams. They were just as human as those not lucky enough to be blessed with the right genes to take to Ripcord technology. The elite few, and it was fucking lonely at the top. Elsa cursed, placing a hand against the 'open' panel for the hatch to their quarters.
The panel glowed orange, denying her escape. She turned to the redhead, feeling less than sympathetic despite the tear tracks she saw down the other woman's cheeks. All she wanted to do was leave. Before Anna could see what she was really like and run from her forever. Just like they all did. Everyone kept her at a distance, and she held everyone at arms length. Anna had managed to get closer, and now she was clearly regretting it. But it still didn't explain why she would rather be locked in with her than as far from her as possible.
"Let me go!"
"No." Another whisper, but forceful, determined. There would be no escape.
"I'm no good to you. Here. Or anywhere. I'm just a heartless bitch."
"No." What?
"I am!"
"No. That's just what you want people to think."
"Fine." Elsa bit the word off as harshly as possible. "Are we done here?"
"No."
"What the fuck do you want, Corazon?" Elsa stared at the younger woman, not understanding why she was being held in here, not understanding why the redheaded bitch thought it better to keep her confined than let her escape and bother someone else. Or just fucking drink herself into a coma. All so she didn't have to remember. Or answer that damn question. That was when the world came crashing down around her ears—because Anna's answer was the very last thing she had been expecting.
"I want you," The way she said it, Elsa blinked, uncomprehending. "Idiot." Ah, well, that explains… wait, what?
"No, you don't." Elsa leaned back against the wall, tossing her braid over her shoulder. "No one wants me."
"I want you, Elsa. All of you. Not just the good bits. I mean, I can see them, but its like they're covered smoke and layered with so much armour I'd need a mass driver just to see what you're really like." Then she smiled, and Elsa felt the anger go out of her. She sank to the floor, putting her arms around her knees. Couldn't this woman see how much she was going to be hurt?
"Coraz—Anna. I'll only hurt you. I hurt everyone. Or they hurt me, and—"
"You are such a fucking stinker, you know that?"
"I'm what?"
"Hah. Knew that would get your attention. I care about you Elsa. I don't know you that well, but I want to know you more. I want to know you more than anything in this whole fucked up universe. I don't think it's a coincidence people like you and MacAllan are turning away from the IMC. There's something good in you. Something worth saving. Worth loving; and even if you can't see it, I can." Anna tapped at the command module she'd just dragged from her bunk. "You can leave now."
Elsa stood, wavering. She wanted to run away, escape all this madness, leave her old life behind in the ashes where it belonged. She looked to the door. Then at Anna, drying her eyes. Fuck. She wanted to leave, but she felt rooted to the spot, anchored by the words the redhead had spoken. She was… worthy. It felt so strange to have someone believe in her like that. Not for her skill, or talents, but for herself. Someone who thought it was worthwhile to know her, just for being herself. It was too much.
She stood in the hatchway, hearing Anna's shocked gasp. Clearly she'd thought she would decide differently. She paused, hand against the hatch, turning to look at the younger woman's stricken face. She just couldn't leave her like this, damn it. Fine.
"I—" her voice caught in her throat, she was only just able to hold back the tears she felt coming. "I—Can I come back… later?"
Anna gave a small nod, and Elsa disappeared, leaving to fight her demons elsewhere. She had no idea how much help Anna would really be, if only she'd let her in…