AN: I had another couple of fluff chapters planned, but for the sake of moving this along, I decided not to post them in this story. One of them was actually pretty good, so it may go up as a one-shot later on. Also updating may be irregular over the next two weeks. Midterms are kicking my ass.
For some reason, the temperature decided to drop in the middle of April. It was unusual, considering summer was approaching. Elsa didn't mind, in all honesty. The cold weather gave her more time to buy Anna the summer clothes she desperately needed.
Over the last few weeks, the luck Elsa had acquired seemed to be running its course. Every time the social worker came over, more mandatory improvements needed to be made; a certain amount of furniture, a land line phone connection, certain types of shoes. Anna's "adjustment" in school didn't last very long either, with the girl coming home in tears more often than not. Elsa did everything she could, even agreeing to send her to the school counselor, but none of it seemed to take. And while her friendship with Kristoff lasted and she was doing fine academically, the older girl worried that it would get back to the social worker and, somehow, impact her ability to keep Anna.
Then, of course, there was the money issue. Even with the raise she'd gotten a months prior, maintaining the household was proving to be difficult. The bills barely got paid, and there was always food on the table, but there wasn't money for extras. Sure, Elsa could subdue her sister with games and library books for now, but wasn't sure of how much longer that would work.
Most of all, there was the looming fear of when she would hear from her mother or father again. It had been a while, but she knew her father well enough to know that his current silence didn't mean a thing, and that he was probably waiting for the perfect opportunity to take what was his.
That looming fear is what terrorized Elsa the most; he didn't care about anything but himself, and was heartless enough to tear their lives apart as long as he got what he wanted.
Even if it meant everything else was destroyed in his wake.
xXx
"Anna, please, put the book away and put your shoes on. Josephine will be here any minute."
Visits with the social worker had been very strenuous the last couple of weeks. Josephine, who was usually warm and inviting, had been distant and quiet, keeping their visits very business-like. Elsa knew there was something that the woman wasn't telling her, and that it was only a matter of time before she found out what it was.
And some sense of premonition was telling her that it was not good news at all.
Elsa was so busy tidying up the apartment, she didn't notice when the sharp knock came at the door.
"Elsa," Anna said after the third knock, "I think Josephine's here."
The older girl took a deep breath, clearly flustered. She looked at Anna on her way to the door; the girl still hadn't put on her shoes. Elsa didn't have the energy to deal with it at the moment.
Elsa got to the door at the fourth knock, her heart sinking when she saw Josephine standing alongside Mr. Wesselton, whom Elsa had not had the misfortune of seeing since their first encounter.
"Mr. Wesselton. Do what do I owe your visit?"
The man gave her a once over before rolling his eyes, digging a file out of his briefcase.
"Tell me, Ms. Anderson, do you have a habit of entertaining guests on your patio?" He snapped.
Elsa shook her head, stepping aside to let the man and woman in. She shut the door, placing her forehead against it, trying to catch her breath.
'This cannot be good news. Not in the least. Why else would the weasel be back?'
Once Elsa composed herself, she strode into the living room, trying to give the appearance that she was in control of herself. She tried to ignore her sister, who was cowering on the couch.
"Ms. Anderson, I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Mr. Wesselton started, not looking up from the file in his hand, "But in reviewing Anna's case, we've found that her father has completed all of his drug recovery and anger management courses. While he certainly has a long way to go, he has met the minimal requirements for supervised visitation."
Elsa's heart stopped, and she found it difficult to form coherent thoughts.
"B—but….but…" she stuttered out, so quietly she doubt either of them heard her.
Josephine spoke up, trying to maintain a serious composure, "They will be supervised. I will be there at any point she interacts with either of them, and you as well, if you want to be."
The older girl looked over to her sister, who had shrunk away into the couch.
"Of course I want to be there," she said.
'I wouldn't trust him alone with her in a million years. No way I'm leaving her alone.'
"Great," Mr. Wesselton said, marking some notes on the file, "So we'll schedule the meeting for—."
"What about me?"
The three of them turned to the meek voice that came from behind them. Anna stood up, and on visibly shaky legs, and walked over to the man.
Struggling to find her strength, she said, "I don't wanna see papa. Why didn't you ask me if I wanted to?"
The man barely regarded her as he said, "Because that's how it works, Anna."
"But I don't wanna see him," the girl repeated.
The man sighed, clearly exasperated, "Your father has put in a lot of work to be able to see you again."
"But I don't wanna see him!" Anna exclaimed, tears falling down her cheeks.
"Okay, okay," Josephine said, stepping between the two of them, "Let's calm down now."
She knelt down so she was at Anna's eye level before speaking, "Anna, I know this is hard, but you won't be alone with him and —."
"The last time I saw him he hurt Elsa!" Anna screamed, near hysterics, "And the time a'fore that I saw him hurt mama! I don't wanna see him!"
With that, she broke away from the group and ran down the hall, her bedroom door slamming shut.
Elsa stood there, stunned at her sister's outburst.
"Tell me, Ms. Anderson, do you normally let her behave that way?" Mr. Wesselton said while tearing some forms off of a pad.
Elsa glared at him, in too much shock to make a response. The man shoved the papers into the girl's hand.
"This is the location and time of the designated visits. I expect you to be there on time for each one. Mrs. Corona will be supervising each one, but if she cannot handle it, I will step in myself."
Elsa's clammy hands bled through the paper, which was trembling under her touch.
As the man turned to walk away, Elsa built up her resolve.
"Mr. Wesselton," she started.
His blank stare nearly stopped her, until she remembered Anna's scared face.
"Is this really necessary?" the girl asked, near tears herself, "Anna's been through so much lately. She's not doing so well. I think this will just put more unneeded stress on her."
When the man said nothing, she continued.
"I understand that steps need to be taken, but does it need to happen this fast? I'm trying so hard to get Anna settled. She's doing well, but she's still fragile. I don't want my father to ruin that."
The man regarded her momentarily, his demeanor unchanging.
"Ms. Anderson, do you remember what I told you during our first meeting?"
He took a few steps towards her.
"I warned you that this was only temporary. Our ultimate goal is to return the child to her natural family. And your father is cooperating quite well with us thus far and is doing everything he needs to. But the question remains, are you doing the same?"
Elsa opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
"I can see you're growing attached. And I don't know what Mrs. Corona has been telling you, but your mother and father are on the right track. And if the child is still fragile and not adjusting, that is a reflection of your job as her foster parent, if anything."
Elsa's last nerve split in two.
"Did you not hear what Anna just said?!" Elsa yelled, slamming the papers down on the table, "I'm sorry that your agency doesn't think that domestic violence – which I had not been aware of until a few minutes ago – was excusable with a few anger management courses. But I care about what's best for Anna, and what's best for her might not be our parents."
She stood there, breathing heavily. The man sighed, shaking his head.
"And after that little outburst, Ms. Anderson, maybe you should consider that what's best does not include you."
He turned on his heel, heading for the door.
"Their first visitation is next Tuesday. Be there on time or I will deal with it personally."
As soon as the door shut, Elsa crumbled onto the couch. Josephine, who had not said a word throughout the exchanged, sat next to the girl, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," she started, "About the visitation, I mean. I didn't want to say anything until we were certain it was happening. I tried to prevent this from happening so soon, but I didn't have much say in the matter."
"It's okay," Elsa said, her voice cracking, "You were only doing your job."
Josephine sighed, "I'm sorry about him too. He was out of line and had no business speaking to you like that."
"It's fine," Elsa said. She struggled to catch her breath. The walls around her seemed to be closing in.
"I will be seeing to all the visitations. They will not be allowed to leave with her or be around her without supervision," Josephine continued, "You can come if you want to, but if it's too difficult to be around them, I'm sure Anna will understand."
Elsa sighed, "No. No I'll be there. It's the least I can do."
The woman opened her mouth to offer more words of comfort, but the pager in her bag went off.
After consulting it, she stood.
"I have another child to see to," she said, gathering her things, "But I just want you to know that I'm here for you. And you have my number if you need it."
The last of the woman's words went over Elsa's head, as she was too consumed with fear to make sense of anything that was happening. She practically sleep walked through filling out a few more forms and seeing Josephine to her car. By the time she was alone again in the apartment, she couldn't even stand upright.
Her parents had already gained visitation after a few weeks. It was a small thing, really, but Elsa knew it meant more. The fact that they were getting so much leeway meant that they were taking the steps to take Anna back. However, no classes, no papers, and no therapist could ever convince her that her parents would take care of her sister the way she needed and deserved.
Her mother may not have known better, but her father was cold, ruthless, and most of all, a good actor. He could have everyone believing that he was a family man, but the façade would be gone the minute the door closed. And if he was hurting her mother, who knows what he was capable of doing to Anna?
She limped down the hall, ready to collapse back onto the couch when she stopped in front of Anna's door.
She could hear the girl's whimpers through the wood, and she wanted so desperately to go in there and comfort her. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. She couldn't let Anna see her like this. So close to her breaking point. So far on edge.
She made her way to her bedroom, being certain to lock the door before falling to the carpet. She curled up into fetal position, trying her best to catch her breath through the shivers and gasps that clogged her throat.
In that moment, the last few months of stress finally caught up with her in one full-fledged panic attack. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't speak, she could barely see her hands in front of her own eyes.
She buried her face in the carpet, hoping the blue threading would catch the tears that fell and put them back before she had the chance to break.