Chapter IX: Fear Is The Enemy
Elsa was on the fairway; her hands clasped before her in a default and deceptively demure pose as she waited alongside the edge of the field, next to me. She was clad once again in white golf gloves, along with a fitted durasynth t-shirt of the same color that had a horizontal cyan stripe halfway down. Black fitted track pants clung to the curves of her legs, and white tennis shoes covered her feet, highlighted with a pastel blue. She was also wearing her shades, a choice of apparel that was actually reasonable for once, as it was the middle of an absurdly bright afternoon on the third Sunday of July—still well within the blazing wrath of summer and its intense rays. Incidentally and oddly, it was also rather chilly outside.
Elsa was playing against Kai today, as she occasionally did, and watched as he swung the first hit of the ninth and last hole, a strong drive that landed him considerably close to the flag. On cue, everyone clapped dryly, and Elsa and I took our places at the black tee. Though the position of caddy was usually "awarded" to her least favorite or newest bodyguard, I was now the only one left, and expected to play the role. Due to my injury, however, Elsa saw fit to instead give the position to some random steward, a short and rotund man with a squashed nose and large front teeth, whose name I couldn't remember. Elsa selected her club from the bag that he carried, and went about the rest of her setup before getting into position.
She steadied, silently, lens covered eyes tracking between her hands and her goal, testing her swing, gaining a feel for the hit. At last, she was satisfied, pulled back, and swung with a swift and powerful swish of air. The white ball with its concave texture remained on its tiny pedestal. Elsa's lips, painted a solid, bright red that contrasted starkly—in a good way—with the light colors of her attire, tightened into a thin line of frustration and self-directed anger.
Again, she steadied, visibly irritated, and exhaled. She removed her shades and placed one of the temples in a pocket on her pants so that the rest hung from it. Her gloved hands then returned to the club, somewhat more confidently, and she again prepared to aim. I could now see her eyes as they filled with a focus that matched the intensity of the saturated hue of her irises, flipping between the club and the hole and nothing else, as if her task was the only thing that existed in the universe. She smirked slightly and fleetingly—it was gone in a flash, replaced with the impassive set of her scarlet mouth. She then pulled back, swung, and was granted the satisfying crack of an impact as the ball sailed high into the air. A sudden cold breeze blew through, and the ball seemed to ride it like an invisible wave, traveling farther down the open field, farther than seemed possible, to land and bounce before settling, marking her most impressive drive of all time; it was at least a full fifty meters further than she had ever been able to hit before. I frowned, skeptical as I partook in the weak and superficial applause without any heart. Elsa was smiling; It was slight, but undoubtedly a grin, and she, her entourage, and I began to approach the displaced golf balls.
I used the moment to find my way next to her. "A most excellent hit, Ma'am."
"Hm." Her spirits were considerably lighter, despite the detached response. Her masked elation was instead visible in her gait, which has a slight springiness to it that caused her bangs to bounce slightly as she walked.
"Your sudden and drastic increase in strength is most astounding as well," I added sarcastically.
Her shoulders stiffened.
"Is it just me or is it slightly chilly today?" I continued in the same, falsely offhanded tone, "I couldn't help but feel that cold breeze from before. An odd thing for the midst of July."
She held her chin up and still did not turn. "I suppose. Perhaps it is merely a cold front."
I sighed, growing tired of the strange wordplay, "using your powers like this isn't exactly sportsmanlike behavior, Ms. Elsa," I stated bluntly.
"As a woman, nothing that I do is sportsmanlike."
I rolled my eyes at the lexical jab, and she huffed, picking an invisible fleck of dust from her shirt, "Playing against your staff as they try their best to lose to you as a sign of respect and reverence is hardly fair either, so I don't quite see your point."
We both sighed, for different reasons, but oddly at the same time, and then shared curious glances at one another before looking away.
Elsa did not heed my grievance, and when she next hit the ball, a suspiciously convenient gust of wind swept it onto the green, where it bounced and settled less than a meter away from the hole. "I suppose it's my lucky day," she teased airily as she sauntered past me and pressed her club into my hands, her attitude putting more sway into her hips as she practically sashayed away from me while her opponent prepared for his turn. My eyes followed the blonde with a glare as I shoved the club at her caddy, making him jump.
We arrived at our positions at the side of the field, and my arms folded as best as they could with the sling. Elsa was still looking rather pleased with herself. She heard my sigh, and her chin lifted a fraction, "You seem troubled," she commented oh-so-very perceptively.
"And you know very well why," I retorted, hardly standing to look at her.
She spared me a sidelong glance, "Why is this such a big deal to you? It's just a stupid game, and I hate it enough as it is to not really care about playing properly. Besides, no one else seems to have noticed."
A thwack from up ahead led us to look up; Kai had swung, a decent hit that placed him not far behind Elsa's ball, but not on the green either. He handed his club off to his own caddy before stepping away from the field, and looked over his shoulder at Elsa with what appeared to be disapproval. She saw it, and tried her best to not acknowledge it, along with the blush that was creeping into her face. "...for the most part..."
"You're pushing it a bit far," I expressed, "One mistake with this and we could have yet another incident, and it hasn't even been a full week since the last one." Elsa shrugged as she brushed me off, and I frowned, "You know Kai's just going to tell you the same thing that I am."
"I don't think he would dare," Elsa interjected haughtily with a smile, "he fears me, just like the rest of the staff does. You're the only one who's bold—or stupid—enough to challenge me." With that comment, she stepped forward to finish the game.
She used the putter, of course, and stared at the ball with an intense gaze and pursed lips. There was no wind that could help her now; the scale of the situation was now too small. She didn't miss the ball this time, but it rolled past the hole to rest at about the same distance from it on the other side, and she swore under her breath. Kai finished on his next turn and waited alongside with the rest of us as Elsa took another three attempts to sink the ball.
Other than her tightly clenched hands, she didn't seem to react at all to her belated success; her face was completely impassive as she stared at the ball while it rattled and settled into the gray depression in the field. She was so still that she completely resembled a statue, sans her platinum-blonde hair as it whipped in the wake of a minute tempest. The group clapped mechanically and fell on deaf ears. Her caddy came up to collect her club and she handed it off to him before heading straight for the manor, stating a silent decree that she was done for the day, and we all followed her inside.
— —
Anna was sitting on a sofa by the door when we came in, and swiftly hopped up to her feet when she saw us, sending her pigtails airborne before she clutched her hands behind her back.
"Kristoffer- I mean Bjorgman, could I talk to you for a moment?" she looked up at me earnestly before looking over at Elsa, who, after glancing at us, nodded silently and walked away, no doubt off to her study to mope or drown herself in paperwork, which was akin to drinking liquor for a workaholic.
Anna exhaled audibly, her breath whipping her now somewhat long bangs as she stared down the hall. "Huh, I wasn't really sure if that was actually going to work!" She grinned. Her smile was similar to Elsa's but lacked her formal reservation; I suppose Anna never really needed it.
"What was it you wished to discuss, ma'am?"
"I said to call me Anna!"
"Sorry...Anna."
She smirked victoriously, and I was again almost floored by the similarities between the two sisters. They were nearly identical in appearance and even in spirit, except while Elsa was as cold as a Siberian winter, and as reclusively private as a hardened survivor of those frigid lands, Anna was like a blazing flame, bouncing between the warmth of a hearth with her kindness and compassion, and the scalding and sometimes explosive heat of an active volcano with her feisty temper—she even had the fiery red hair to match.
The smile faded as her blaze sizzled into embers, and she seemed unsure of how to begin. "...What...really happened to you?"
"What do you mean-"
"I-I'm not an idiot—despite what everyone thinks—and I know there's no way that was a gas leak. It doesn't explain the hole in your shoulder or-or the complete lack of burns on anything near the 'explosion'-"
"Wait, you went to the crime scene?"
"Of course I went to the- wait, crime scene?!"
I looked around, afraid someone would hear, "I can't tell you. I've already said too much."
"Did Hans do this?"
I stiffened. "Why does that concern you?"
"He did, didn't he?" Her voice was wavering, quivering, yet the rest of her was shaking with anger.
"Believe me when I say this, you don't want to know what happened."
"But I do," she retorted stubbornly and quietly, stamping her foot as she bit her lip. Her gaze had dropped, and her hands gripped at her elbows in a familiar gesture, "I know all of these events are related—these incidents. The cover stories are always lamer than the ones about aliens, and yet despite all the damage and destruction, Elsa is always fine, and it never adds up. She's always been hiding something, and I need to know why! I need to help her!"
"Stop digging, Anna. You can't be involved." I turned to leave, and she scoffed angrily from behind me. A hand tightly grasped my arm and pulled me back around with surprising strength, leaving me face-to-face with and inches from the most furious and intimidating five-foot woman I had ever laid eyes on.
"And why not? Aren't you? She's my sister!"
With some difficulty, I yanked myself away from her firm grip, "stay out of this, Anna."
I stalked away, and she yelled after me, "I'm not yours to protect!"
I sighed, out of earshot. "So you think..."
— —
I awoke later that night drenched in my own sweat, the oddly cold moisture sticking to my skin and soaking uncomfortably into my bandages, which were already irritating enough when they were dry. My breath calmed, and I sat up, images from my fitful sleep still seared into my eyelids, replaying Anna's words as they overlaid the events from my most recent near-death experience. I've unfortunately had plenty of those over the years, especially during my time in combat, where I had seen, dealt, and been dealt my share of injuries, and watched everyone that I had ever become close to during that time be wrenched away by the curtain of death or by the force of shrapnel and lead, observing helplessly as they lay dying, covered in the blood of strangers along with their own, sometimes in my trembling arms, sometimes laying on the ground a distance away, and sometimes in a heap, in pieces, or still just half-alive.
Those were the worst, the ones where you could still fool yourself into thinking that they still had a chance, filled with a type of pain and grief that was all full of could-have-beens and should-have-knowns, but even after all of that suffering, all of that trauma, and all of that loss, none of it was as nerve-wracking as the events that happened on the fourth floor of Arendelle manor only days ago. Perhaps it was just from the shock of being impaled on a wall by a giant, magical spear of ice summoned by an egotistical ginger warlock, or perhaps it was because that javelin had rendered me helpless while the thread of Elsa's life was about to be cut, millimeters away from being severed by the jagged dagger of the Fates. Even then, it wasn't too different in retrospect; I've had my share of blinding pain and suffering, and I've been helpless like that before, yet it all felt so bizarre this time. I have in the past awoken from countless nightmares, covered in my sweat as I was now, and trembling with fear, but never with wet tears streaming down my face.
I didn't notice them at first, but after a few blinks, I began to distinguish the moisture from the perspiration that was across the rest of my face, and could feel it in my eyes. I hadn't cried in years, not once since my parents had died, and it's been over two decades since then. Why now? What was different this time?
Unable to answer the looming questions, I elected to go for a walk about the manor, planning to clear my head so that I could eventually go back to sleep, and hoping that this late-night venture wouldn't be nearly as eventful as the last one.
I ultimately found myself on the roof, looking out at the darkened landscape, which was spared from being pitch black by the light of a nearly full moon. In the lunar glow, I could see the rise and fall of the tree-blanketed land that slowly rose up at a steady incline behind the estate, swaying in the breeze of a gentle wind. Along the sides, the terrain flattened out into plains and softer hills, and at the front, a solitary, single-lane road curved its way into the distance, and penetrated the unknown darkness.
I heard the shuffling sound of the automatic door from behind me and turned sharply, relaxing when I saw who it was. "Kai."
He nodded as he approached, hands shoved that he was wearing over simple, gray pajamas. I noted oddly that I was still wearing my now-wrinkled suit, and that Kai seemed particularly alert—assertive even—if such a thing could actually be conveyed by one's countenance.
"Looking for some fresh air too?" I asked conversationally.
The senior staff member shrugged, "On some level, I suppose, though I mainly wanted to speak with you. There's something important that we need to discuss." That would mark the first time he's ever wanted to do that with me. To top it off, we had already exchanged more words in the past thirty seconds than we ever had over the entire course of my employment here in Elsa's service. I could feel a sense of foreboding settle into my bones as Kai took a deep breath and exhaled, "the events of this past Wednesday-"
"It wasn't actually a gas leak, I know."
Kai's eyes widened, "She...told you?"
I half shrugged, "Not exactly; I was in the room back when she...when Sven died."
Kai appeared to be in the midst of utter shock and was pitched forward slightly, staring at the ground with his eyebrows raised and his mouth still open. "You've known everything all this time...she never told me that."
"Not surprising," I replied with a knowing smile.
He returned it with a nod before shaking his head, "It had been many years before she ever confided the truth in me, and you haven't even been here for six months!" Kai laughed, but after a moment, his expression sobered, and his feet shifted anxiously. "Though, as it turns out, this wasn't exactly what I was originally going to tell you." He looked up and met my intrigued gaze, "Syd wasn't the only one. There are more coming."
"What?!"
I had already known that this was a likely possibility, but I still couldn't stop myself from freaking out a little; receiving confirmation of something often hurts just as much as the fear of it. My mind was flooded with a tsunami of questions, the waters rushing out from a dam that had been burst and shattered by the dynamite that was his revelation.
"How many? Who? How much time do we have? Are they-"
"Bjorgman, please, just calm down."
My breath was heavy, blasting through my nostrils as I tried to reign in the panic and the fear, the fear that was my enemy, the fear that haunted me at night in my dreams just to remind me of its presence. I could not let it control me; the odds of the coming conflict were going to be terrible and against us, no matter what other details Kai was going to have. I could not afford to let myself do something stupid.
I could tell Kai was not looking forward to telling me the rest as his lips pursed and his eyes flicked about. "Syd was working with an agency that is dedicated to dealing with supernatural entities. They've been taking note of everything that's been going on and...it seems they've now deemed that Elsa is too potentially dangerous to be kept alive. Syd's transgressions against us and Elsa were confirmation of that decision." He met my gaze for a flash, "I've decided to inform you of everything now, as you are the only thing that can stand between Ms. Elsa and this threat. We can't hire any assistant personal without risking further infiltration from them, and Syd has already sabotaged much of our already inferior intelligence network."
"Intelligence network?" I questioned incredulously, "Just how long has all this been going on for?"
Kai sighed, "The Arendelle family has a very...unique history, one that has crossed paths multiple times with the world that hides behind the veil of what is believed to be true and possible, more commonly known as the realm of the supernatural." Kai cleared his throat. "The network and our efforts began during her father's time, borne out of the rising concern he held for Ms. Elsa after an incident that occurred between her and Miss Anna—the first incident, I suppose."
"Does Elsa know about any of this?"
Kai shook his head and I groaned. He waved his hands helplessly, "It was her father's wish! And she never—if she were to ask me about it, I would be obligated to tell her, of course, but I..." He deflated, "but that hardly matters now. We have much more pressing issues to focus on besides the past." He backed away and beckoned with a hand, "Come with me, you're going to meet your team."
I followed Kai with a mix of apprehension and curiosity as he took us down via one of the manor's many staircases, through several halls, into the empty kitchens, which lit up automatically under the direction of motion sensor lights, and into a storage cupboard near the back with walls of brick and mortar that were mostly covered with shelves of ingredients. He pressed on one of the reddish blocks of baked clay on the only blank section of the wall, and I frowned curiously as the surface shifted and moved to the right like a cheap gimmick straight out of an old spy movie. "This feels as cliche as a James Bond film," I commented dryly.
Kai shrugged admittedly, "You go with what works, I guess."
The interior was much more modest and underwhelming than what my mind had been dreading and expecting; there was no massive underground complex, no weapon or gadget testing centers or huge supercomputers, just a dark, hot, low-ceilinged, and somewhat smelly room containing about thirty desks and multi-monitored computers, all armed with very casually dressed staff; half of them were shirtless, and the other half were women. The only light came from the scattered lamps and computer screens, and a few large and well-used whiteboards were set up around the room along with a beat-up green couch that was pushed up against a wall and looked like it originated in one of the parlors upstairs. Flat, plastic surfaces, laid out for the office chairs, covered the concrete floor. Countless wires crisscrossed everywhere; some taped securely to the ground while others were strewn about loosely like hunting snares, just waiting for someone to trip over them.
A short man with straw-like hair, big ears, bushy eyebrows, and a stony and lightly stubbled face that still somehow managed to appear gentle, seemed to emerge directly out from the shadows of the room and onto the section of ground that lay right at the base of the small set of wire mesh stairs that Kai and I stood at the top of. Kai's eyes lit up a little when he saw him, "Ah! Bjorgman, this is Pablo Terran, the head of our operations here. Most of us here call him Pabbie; don't ask me why."
Pabbie laughed heartily, "I wouldn't tell him even if he did!" He turned to me and shook my hand with a rock-solid grip, his broad grin having reduced to a more formal smile, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Bjorgman." He gestured with a hand to the room behind him with a chuckle, "Welcome to the resistance, I guess." A few heads looked up at us, blinking and staring with curious eyes before returning to their brightly lit screens.
"This is everyone?" I asked.
He shrugged, "For the most part; we have a few others who manage certain other affairs elsewhere, but that's about it. We'll be providing you with whatever support we can, watching from afar like Mr. Syd was supposed to be doing."
I looked around at the room again, feeling grateful, "Thank you. It's good to know that I won't be entirely blind during all of this."
Pabbie nodded, "It's not an excuse for you to ever let down your guard, but it should help you maintain your sanity, for a little while longer at least." He shrugged, "the head can be persuaded with a little hope."
We shared a slight smile, and I noticed one of the boards in the back more closely, identifying a set of names in red and green listed on the side. The words "Winter's Guardians" were written in large, blue, block lettering across most of the rest of the white plane and decorated with a variety of multicolored doodles. It was the list of names, however, that demanded the most attention. Pabbie's gaze followed mine, "Ah, that would be the list of suspects. Ideally it would be best if you were to remain with Elsa at all times, but eliminating these targets is also a priority; it would be the proactive thing to do, and would eliminate a lot of the unknowns."
"Unknowns? Are you saying that you haven't actually confirmed that those people are involved?"
"Well..." he squinted and waved his hands a little, "Yes. Though if they are, you'll likely figure it out rather quickly when you go to...you know..." He trailed off with a shrug, and I said nothing, instead looking back at the list of names. There were currently twelve listed, with a few of them crossed out. Only one of them stood out—and there was no way that it couldn't.
Hans M. Syd.
"He's still alive?" My irate voice was full of the cold, frozen steel that I had often heard from Elsa. Suddenly all the misgivings and hesitation that I had felt towards Pabbie's "proactive" alternative strategy faded into oblivion, replaced instead with a powerful drive and a perhaps unhealthy lust for vengeance.
The two men shared a glance, and Kai replied, "Most likely. He's been through rougher scrapes than this if you can believe it. He's not human."
My uninjured hand went absently to my shoulder. "I know. I know what he is." With a strengthened sense of purpose, I turned to Kai, "Call me at once if you learn anything about Syd."
Kai peered at me carefully as he nodded, "or anything else that we find about the agency?"
"Of course," I replied quickly, the response sounding embarrassingly like an afterthought. I shook Pabbie's hand again before leaving the darkened room with their eyes on me. I tried to ignore them, and with my newfound resolve boiling in my veins, it was easier to do than I thought. I entered the cupboard, and braved the uncomfortable sensation of the mixed smells that took place between the sweaty odor of the dark chamber and the spiced scent of the kitchen, which seemed to have soaked into the very structure of the room itself. Upon hearing the sound of something grinding, I turned around and watched with bemused fascination as the brick wall slid back into place on its own accord and sealed, appearing entirely inconspicuous.
Though I did not approve of the team's decision to keep Elsa in the dark over a matter regarding her own safety, I knew the knowledge would have only made her life much more stressful than it already was. On the other hand, secrets seem to have brought her nothing but pain in the past. The only other solution I could think of was to selectively relay the news to her under the guise of a new lie, fabricating what I was told so that it appeared to be my own research and intel. I couldn't banish the feeling that it would eventually backfire in some way though.
As I returned to the dark and carpeted halls, I cursed to myself as I realized that I was now even more awake and alert than I had been before. I really needed to find an alternative way to deal with my nightmares.
— —
The next few days fell back into their usual daily patterns, alternating between work, sleep, and training, which was all the more necessary with the threat that the icemen presented. Elsa's prowess was progressing rapidly, like a muscle finally being excercised after a lifetime of infrequent use. Her control, in contrast, was regressing. Whethr it was a result of the increased strain brought by her expanding power, or that borne out of her stress surrounding the coming merger, I wasn't sure. Other than that, the days were merely a repetitive cycle of scheduled events that were far too mundane and individually inconsequential to bother speaking or writing about in any detail, and before either of us knew or expected it, the day of the merger was upon us. It was the day of reckoning, and unknowingly, the first one of what I now believe will be very many more to come.
Elsa was late this morning, a first and a surprise, but nonetheless understandable under the current circumstances. I knocked on her door, and the sound echoed down the cold hallway as I shivered. "Ms. Elsa?"
Outside, it was snowing passively, the frozen powder collecting on the panes and the base of the tall windows in the adjacent hall that lay along an exterior edge of the building—the north, if I wasn't mistaken. The wintry precipitation stirred, and if my eyes weren't fooling me, it seemed to have reacted to my words.
The handle of Elsa's door turned sharply, harshly, and after a pause, the door slowly opened, revealing deadened, bloodshot, and dark-rimmed eyes. A translucent white-blonde tumbleweed of hair piled atop Elsa's head and tumbled down her shoulders, appearing to glow in the light of the morning sun as it shone in through the large window behind her. Her pale lips were chapped, and her now lake-blue eyes bored into mine with unsettling and unregulated intensity. She looked utterly miserable.
"Morning," she croaked. Her voice was monotonous and about as lively as her face.
"Good morning. Is everything alright? It's not like you to wake up so late—by your standards anyway."
"I didn't. I've-" she yawned, trying to cover her mouth with a still manicured hand, "I've been up for hours..." She frowned as her eyes drifted slightly, like books slipping on a shelf. "...28 hours? Or was it..."
I sighed and knew I had been a fool to expect anything different. The merger was today at last—or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it—and the general stress of the event, combined with Syd's warnings, which felt weird to still adhere to after his betrayal and almost successful attempt at first degree murder, would have kept anyone miles away from the embrace of sleep.
Elsa's lazy eyes pitched up at my face and seemed to overshoot their target before trying to focus back on it. "You don't appear to have fared much better, either," she mumbled as she observed.
I shrugged as my confession, "I'll admit it wasn't exactly a good night's rest, but I'm quite sure it was better than your experience." I hadn't been able to sleep well at all over the past few days, perturbed by more nightmares and waking each time with more sweat and tears. I hadn't realized the fatigue left over after my most recent measly few hours of rest was that obvious, but even so, I at least felt awake, which was more than what seemed to be the case for Elsa.
Her arms gripped at each other, a gesture that I was beginning to attribute to anxiety, as she sighed and studied her feet, which were clad in snowman slippers. With a sudden petulant groan, she turned away and tried to escape back into her room, making a beeline for the unmade bed.
"Oh no you don't!" I reached out, grabbed her by the elbow, and pulled her back to me, noting how surprisingly light she actually was. She scrunched her eyes closed and looked ready to start bawling like the small child she was imitating as I tugged her back to the door.
Her hands flew to her hips, dropping into the stance so roughly that she basically slapped her sides while her reddening face pouted. "You know you can't really stop me."
Knowing that she was right, I released her with a resigned grunt, and she turned around, peeved, to enter her room and get ready, presumably. "Good luck today," I said to her as she was closing the door, and she stuck her head back out to smile sleepily at me, lingering for a moment as she forgot herself. Her eyes subsequently flicked down as she returned to reality, and she closed the door softly. I heard her groan at something through the wooden barrier and settled in at my post beside it, awaiting my charge's eventual return.
The door opened about half an hour later, and out stepped a more refined, dignified, and seemingly awake woman who was almost entirely unrecognizable as the disheveled, yet slightly adorable, drowsy girl from before. Her hair was tamed into her usual bun and bangs combo, and she was dressed in a shortened navy blue suit jacket over a white formal blouse with a modest pattern about the collar, along with slacks as pale as tundra and her ice-blue heels. Her makeup was done, and managed to hide her fatigue while also making her appear much more intimidating, with sharp red lips and dark, purple shadows around the eyes that made her crystal blues stand out even more. I even felt a frigid shiver roll down my spine when she looked over at me with that deep, cold gaze of hers before I saw the rest of her face and its expression of consternation and worry, which broke the whole facade and allowed it to actually be viewed as such.
"How is it?" she asked in a soft tone, musically graceful as always, but now much more calm and tranquil, like a little brook in the forest as opposed to the vast expanse of the sea, sometimes just as breathtaking, but with much less daunting imagery.
"Why are you asking me?" I questioned lightly, confused by her unprecedented desire for my approval. She was rendered at a loss for words by my inquiry, but I accepted it as a response nonetheless. "If you're trying to intimidate them, you're on the right track, but perhaps go all white with the wardrobe."
She frowned, "Wouldn't that seem too light though?"
"With your hair and your icy demeanor, it'll work great; I've seen you pull it off before." She was glaring at me incredulously. "What?"
"Icy? Really?"
I was somewhat perplexed, "There was no pun intended, if that's what you're upset about."
She sighed and looked on to other issues, ignoring whatever my infraction was. "So no specific details?" She searched my eyes, clearly quite eager for an answer.
I gave her an odd look, "No...why?"
She shrugged, "It just makes it easier, I guess; there's less ambiguity."
"I trust your judgment."
She scoffed with a skeptical laugh, "No you don't."
"I trust it well enough with this sort of thing—more than my own really—which was partly why I was surprised that you even asked me."
She began to huddle in on herself and shrugged, "Who else would I ask?" The words sank in for a moment before she continued, "It feels nice being able to get an outside opinion on something; I can go out for once without always worrying that it'll all fail miserably. I already have enough to worry about as it is, and I didn't want to add my clothes to the list."
"Whichever one you choose will be fine. That's my outside opinion." I smiled, and she returned it. I shooed her back into her room, "Now hurry up, we've wasted enough time as it is, and today is probably the worst time for you to be late."
"Yes sir," she mocked, closing the door after herself with an amused smile.
— —
Soon after, we stood on the windy rooftop, preparing to board the CTV, per usual, though the minutes and seconds now dragged on, and when you stopped paying attention for a moment, you came back to awareness in horror after realizing how much time slipped past you. Elsa's posture re-stiffened at every small milestone in her commute, likely resulting from this stressful phenomenon, and while we rode in the back seat, I found her hand tightly gripping mine. The occurrence had become routine, as she has repeatedly sought my hand every day since I had returned from the hospital, but the novelty of the sensation and its effect on me refused to fade.
I had noted that she had taken my suggestion from earlier and switched to an all white ensemble, other than the heels, of course. We passed by a peculiar shaped cloud that vaguely resembled a sled, and Elsa's head fell onto my shoulder. I appreciated the contact at first, but then remembered her sleep-deprived state.
"Wake up, Elsa."
She jerked, "I wasn't sleeping."
I smirked and looked away, "Sure you weren't."
She grunted noncommittally and sat up. "I want my coffee today. I need it."
"For once, I actually agree with you in that regard."
She rubbed at her eyes while trying to pretend not to, "I wish I had attempted to meet with the executives from South Isles beforehand; I'm going in blind."
"You'll be fine, Elsa."
Her expression clouded. "You don't think that Syd's brothers share his...abilities, do you?
"No; he seemed to be the black sheep of the family. Even if they do, I will not allow them to do you any harm, even at the cost of my own life."
She looked away, "That doesn't really make me feel any better."
I sighed, looking at her for a moment. She was incredibly sensitive and resistant to the idea that her life was more important than mine, and it was about time that this was addressed. "You do realize that I took this job willingly, don't you? And that, should I feel inclined, I could just quit, and you'd never see me again? I am here because I want to be here, Elsa. I took this job because I want to protect you. There's no reason for you to feel guilty; you haven't imposed anything on me-"
"Are you kidding me? I've thrust you into a world that neither of us understand! You could end up getting yourself killed over something that isn't your fault!" She dabbed at her eyes, "Just...stop. Please."
"Elsa, we need to-"
"I said stop!" The car shook with the strength and frost in Elsa's voice as the cabin cooled dramatically. I heard a click from the front before feeling the air conditioning kick into overdrive as the chauffeur maxed out the heater. Elsa took a deep breath, but it did little to suppress the wavering tone in her voice, "If I start crying, I'm going to screw up my makeup, and there isn't time to fix it." She sniffled defiantly, "Just leave it."
"Yes ma'am." I conceded, not nearly finished as we flew off towards headquarters and the fate that awaited us there.
