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"A New Way to Bleed"
Location: Unity Staging Ground
Date: December 2nd, 2073
Time: 17:00
Sometimes you could tell who a visitor is by how they knock.
With Captain Drago Bludvist, it was three solid thumps on the door of Hans' office. He looked away from the concerned Inquisitor Jafar sat opposite his desk and briefly wondered whether a second set of knocks would bring the entire door down. It had rattled with every thud, which was hilarious considering they were magnetically sealed, and reminded Hans just how physically strong and imposing Bludvist was.
He should be smashing heads with a tree trunk, not captaining the pride of Unity's military.
"Should I depart?" Jafar asked. Hans drew his hands away from his desk and made a pyramid with his fingers over his top lip. Glancing back to the Inquisitor, he lightly shook his head.
"No," Hans said after a moment's deliberation. "He already knows about our plans."
Jafar's head turned an inch and regarded him through the corners of his eyes. "Are you sure you can trust him?"
"My dear Inquisitor," Hans said, choosing to hide his exasperation behind a wry smile, "Drago makes no secret of what he wants. Transparency is such a rare gift."
Jafar was one of the few people in Unity, aside from Hans himself, that possessed what those in the political sector would call 'a silver tongue'. Which meant you had to make sure he didn't speak too much.
"Don't you think?" Hans added, cutting the Inquisitor off before he could speak, and adding insult to injury by abruptly calling out, "Enter!"
The door slid open with a subtle shht, and as expected, Drago's hulking form sidled into the room. Hans quietly mused whether the captain once experienced becoming stuck in a doorway and was thus forced to sidestep from then on. The door automatically closing, Hans watched Drago slowly make his way to the desk wearing an ill-fitting dress uniform, and a permanently etched frown. "Captain Bludvist, reporting as... ordered," he said in his customary rockslide voice, offering a salute that barely toed the line between respectful and mocking.
"At ease, Captain," Hans said with a polite smile. He gestured with one hand toward Jafar. "You know of Inquisitor Jafar, don't you?"
Drago's eyes slowly travelled to rest on the vastly thinner man and offered him little more than a curled lip and a contemptuous grunt. Translation: yes. Jafar rolled his eyes and shifted in his chair, elbows resting on the armrests while his fingers laced themselves together. Hans curled a wry half-smile - he could feel the disdain radiating from both men. "Good. Saves time when I don't have to make introductions," he said. Offering a hand to the other chair, he looked up at Drago. "Would you care to sit, Captain?"
It was pointless and borderline offensive, considering there was no way in hell Drago's massive frame could even think about sitting in such a comparatively tiny chair. Drago glanced down at it and back up to Hans with a you-must-be-joking look. Still, one must be polite even to walking tanks. "I'll stand," he grunted.
"As you wish," Hans said. He sat up in his chair and regarded the captain with deep interest. "Now - as to the matter we discussed over the Uni-Com after my meeting with the Unifier: what's the progress on the dropship alterations?"
"She's the spitting image of the original," Drago said, folding his arms. "The name, the number, the hull scarring. She'll even fool our glorious pipsqueak Unifier."
Hans chuckled a single time. "Excellent - and the sensor modification?"
"Ready. As soon as it registers weapons fire, the distribution system will feed the main power back on itself and go critical within seconds. They'll never see it coming," Drago said, curling a smile that Hans couldn't work out if it was predatory or smug. "Though I don't know why you don't just shoot the damn thing down yourself. I would, and I'd look them in the eyes, too."
Hans opened his mouth to remind his caveman-compatriot of the importance of keeping one's hands as clean as possible, for innocence's sake, but his reprimand was ruined when Jafar piped up. "Are you certain it will work?"
Drago's smile fell like a stone, and as he glared, Hans wondered if he had insulted the captain's integrity and professionalism. "The simulations," Drago growled, "worked perfectly, Inquisitor. If I say something will work, it will work."
Jafar smoothly stood with the elegance of an unfurling snake and drew himself to his full six-four height, however, at six-ten Drago still towered over him. Smirking, Jafar said, "And yet, wasn't the Hammer riddled with glitches and hardware errors?"
Drago's eyes grew stormy. A low, menacing rumble vibrated from his throat and his lips curled back to reveal gritted teeth. Aware that not only would a single punch decapitate the Inquisitor, but everything he worked toward would be revealed in the ensuing investigation, Hans shot to his feet. "Gentlemen, if I wanted to witness two grown men have a competition to see who had the bigger penis, I would spend time with my twelve brothers."
Both Jafar and Drago looked at him through the corners of their eyes, and for a moment Hans was struck with just how diminutive his five-six frame was in comparison. Pressing his advantage, he added, "This room is not big enough for two men with planet-sized egos, so in the interests of secrecy, please leave them at the door. Is that clear?"
The inches-from-brawling men studied Hans for a few seconds, until with a grunt from Drago and a derisive hum from Jafar, the brewing scuffle abated. Jafar returned to his chair and relaxed, crossing one ankle over his knee and lacing his fingers together. Drago, however, kept a glaring eye upon the Inquisitor.
"Now," Hans said as he seated himself, content that World War Four would not be declared in his office, "as tactless and rude as his question was, there is a reason for it."
"Yes," Jafar said. "It seems Miss Snowfield and her gang of harpies moved quicker than we expected."
Hans held up a finger. "Than you expected, Jafar. I knew she would try to uncover the truth as soon as she could. She is tenacious when it comes to seeking answers. Six teams and a sunken vessel are testament to that."
He exhaled through his nose, a long breath. He learned a long time ago that plans are not set in stone and seldom play out the way they are supposed to. That life was unpredictable and fluid, and therefore the best laid plans are ones that can adapt accordingly. "Nevertheless, it means she knows about Henrik ahead of schedule. Therefore, we should accelerate our plan. Drago?"
The captain grunted. Hans took it to mean he had his attention. "How many flight-capable craft can you muster in four days' time?"
Drago shrugged offhandedly. "Twenty five drones, maybe two or three Einherjars."
Hans leaned back into his chair, clasped his hands together and tapped his upper lip with his index fingers as he looked away in calculating thought. "It's not ideal," he said, sighing, "but it will have to do. Four of my best students recently completed their flight exam and are due their first mission, so I will send them as well."
"Should be enough." Drago said. "A Hela would be no match for all that."
"One can only hope." Hans looked to Jafar. "Will your transmission be ready for then?"
Jafar gave him a funny look. "Of course."
Hans studied him for a few moments more. "Good." He straightened up in his seat and kept his hands together as he rested his arms on his obsidian matt black desk. "I need not remind you of the secrecy in which we are operating and that our timing... it must be flawless." Hans stood and smoothed down his military jacket. "Now, speaking of timing - I must bring our conversation to a close. Matters in the Staging Ground do not tend to themselves. Good luck, gentlemen."
Jafar and Drago both said their goodbyes, with the latter offering little more than an uncivilised grunt. It was one reason Hans trusted him - Drago wasn't exactly complicated. What he saw was what he got. Waiting until the broad man sidled back through the doorway, Hans pressed a faintly glowing white button on the right of his desk and leaned slightly toward it.
"Lieutenant Kowalski?"
The voice that emanated from the desk's integrated speakers was feminine and clear, but possessed a sandpaper-like edge to it which grated on the ears after protracted periods of time. Lieutenant Kowalski was an invaluable member of his staff thanks to her skill in administration, and displayed excellent prowess in the bedroom on nights where his stress needed relieving. Amongst other things. "Yes, sir?"
"Please could you draft me four mobilisation papers? It seems I have to cut the Valkyries' leave short," he said, trying to force away the desire to call her into the office and get her out of those clothes. As she stated her acknowledgement, he looked up at the clock on the wall next to the door, and noticed he had a good fifteen minutes until the first staff meeting of the night. Fifteen minutes to kill, with a gorgeous, confident, buxom redhead sat in the next room. It was fraternisation with a fellow officer and thus would get him in serious trouble. It was also an irresistible opportunity.
"Will there be anything else, sir?"
The memory and sensation of her lips around him filled his mind, and his willpower was happily crushed.
"Yes. Could you come into my office, please?"
Location: Settlement Eighty-six, Zone Thirty-two
Date: December 3rd, 2073
Time: 13:29
Jack pulled his hood closer around his head, and shrunk further into the corner of the dimly lit, barely structurally sound bar. With stormy eyes, he stared at the translucent blue plastic glass, with the just-about-visible blue liquid in it. New Arendelle Shoreline, the bar guy called it. Jack cared little as to its name, he cared about whether it was strong.
Boy, it was. He could clean the Fairy's thrusters with it, and he was sure it had eaten through his stomach lining and started on his guts as a second course. He still didn't much care, though - the stronger the synth-booze, the quicker it could silence his mind.
Ever since that encounter with Snow Queen - he refused to refer to her by her real name even in his thoughts; it was easier to depersonalise her after what she'd done - his mind had been ablaze with an avalanche of questions and intrusive thoughts. Was she truly apologetic for everything? Was she, like Anna, so blinded by grief and rage she lashed out at the person not responsible? He snorted under his breath and took another sip of the liquid which burned its way down his throat. Birds of a feather, those two.
Except Anna didn't exactly rack up a body count in the low three hundreds when she had a hissy fit.
He bowed his head and chewed his lip. Focusing his eyes on the heavily gouged and worn circular bistro table - the bar had all sorts of tables, from restaurant to coffee, but that one looked the sturdiest - he remarked upon the weird sensation of knowing you have to go somewhere, but hating the idea of it. Snow Queen had put his tenure in New Burgess to an early end; it was too dangerous to remain there after she found him, especially after the chase, so the only place to go was home. Where the woman who had been trying to talk to him over the radio every single time he reported in - he had delayed two check-ins because of that - would be waiting. A conversation with Anna would be deep, heavy, and painful... and he wasn't ready for it. Who would be? Your best friend accuses you of letting her husband and your surrogate mother die, and then two days later flips that on its head? Jack wondered if the dictionary definition of emotional whiplash came with a picture of Anna.
The Uni-Com in the far corner of the bar, set to the news wave where Cynthia mindlessly reported anything and everything remotely intelligent, cut to a new segment. Jack ignored it. Nothing good on the Media Stream, anyway.
Going back also meant having to be the leader again and not try to pretend it wasn't happening. He always felt Hiccup was leader material even if he was heavily nomadic and preferred messing around with Toothless rather than turning up on time to briefings and deployments, so when Kristoff nominated him as XO it was bewildering. However, it still meant people were now looking to him for decisions and directions, and that kind of responsibility he wasn't ready for - on the other hand there was no way he could be ready in the first place. The circumstances of his succession weren't exactly peaceful.
There was one hope he was holding onto though, one that might validate, in his mind, his suitability for leadership: steal a fuel cell, find the Fairy, take his team home. The only objective that made sense. The only one achievable.
He had just taken another sip of the engine degreaser when Cynthia began a new story. He felt the inexplicable compulsion to glance up at the screen and noticed a map of Unity territory's eastern and western borders. Frowning, he felt the burn of uncertain dread in his heart... and wondered why.
"Yo," he called out to the bartender who was busy amusing himself by making a pyramid out of plastic glasses identical to his, "you mind turning that up?"
The bartender, a young brunette guy with uneven five-day growth, looked up at him and then back at his work, an expression of deep worry on his face. "Dude, it's not going anywhere. Turn the damn thing up," Jack said, gesturing irritably at the unsteady-looking pyramid.
Casting one further look, the bartender then rolled his eyes and yelled at the Uni-Com to increase its volume - which it did, and what followed tore Jack's hope to pieces.
"Reports from the Citadel indicate that the government is increasing patrols and sensor sweeps of Unity territory. Einherjar patrols will be doubled, and new sensor stations are being installed near the coastline to detect, detain and investigate unauthorised or suspicious craft entering or leaving our borders. Whether this is simply a revised security measure, or we should expect greater tension with the Alliance, the Unifier is remaining tight-lipped. However, what the Citadel has said is that, for the foreseeable future, these changes will remain in place and are unlikely to be lifted."
Jack's heart hit the floor. The implication was clear.
Location: Unknown
Date: December 3rd, 2073
Time: 16:58
Frowning, Hiccup held the two planks of wood together in the manner Kozmotis told him to, and cocked his head in puzzlement. He'd seen this symbol once or twice over his lifetime perched on or attached to buildings on the way between settlements, but he never really knew what they were. Neither did his parents Stoick and Valka, come to think of it. So for Kozmotis to request four of such symbols - he had asked a few times who the fourth was for and was met with silence every time - puzzled him deeply.
Still, it seemed important, and if it was for a good reason, then Hiccup was all for it.
Laying one plank horizontally and three quarters the way up across the other which was also resting on the crate he dragged out of the barn, he plucked one of the three nails from between his lips. Whilst holding the nail in place where the two planks crossed and sliding the hammer out of his pocket, he glanced up at the fiery amber and crimson sunset that painted the sky in a watercolour sea of red, gold and purple. Sunsets like that, he missed, perching on the edge of the Star's external elevators. Seeing all the trees around kind of ruined it. Sighing, he turned his attention back to the strange symbol, and proceeded to hammer the first nail into it while his mind ticked over.
Jack was annoying him. Sure, the guy had a horrible streak of luck - don't we all, a voice in his head reminded him - but the way he was dealing with the Anna situation wasn't exactly grown-up. Taking himself off to New Burgess alone, with no-one to have his back was bad enough, but to freak the shit out of everyone when he checked in two hours later than scheduled, making them think Unity had taken him out for those two hours? He had half a mind to apply the hammer to Jack's head.
He had just finished the first nail and was moving onto the second when a pair of legs appeared in his upper vision. He looked up with blank eyes at Anna, who stood with her hands behind her back and rocking on her feet, appraising his work with curious eyes, and wondered how silly he looked with a nail poking between his lips. "Eyanna. Whaffup?"
She gave him an odd look. "In English, please?"
Hiccup frowned, then realised why she was so weirded out. Plucking the nail from between his lips, he repeated - with infinitely greater clarity, "Hey, Anna. What's up?"
"Ah!" She shrugged, looking increasingly like she was hovering. "Nothing much. Koz is reading, and I'm bored. Thought I'd come bug you. Whatcha making?"
Hiccup looked down at his handiwork and did a shrug of his own. "I got nothin'," he said. "Koz asked me to make four of them for the funeral - any idea what it is?" He lifted it up and planted it on the ground. The dying sunset blew its golden breath over it, casting an elongated shadow behind the symbol that Hiccup, when he glanced behind it in curiosity, found alternately comforting and sobering.
"Nope," Anna said, popping the 'p' as she gestured with one hand toward it. "I mean, it looks like a plus sign, but you've got the horizontal line too high up."
Eyes returning to his work, he rested a hand on the tip and gazed at it. "That's what I thought, but Koz says it's supposed to look like that. Says it's called a crucifix. Know what that means?"
Anna quirked her lips sideways. Her shoulders rose and dropped, and she looked a little disappointed. "Sorry, Hic. I don't know what to tell you."
"Yeah, me neither," Hiccup said. Sighing, he lifted the 'crucifix' up from the ground and laid it back on the crate, before proceeding to hammer in the third nail. "Maybe one day he'll tell us."
"Maybe. Guess he thinks it's important to the funeral," Anna said. Having completed the first one, Hiccup bent down to pick up three more nails, and was appreciative to find Anna was already pulling up two more planks from the other side of the crate. Smiling, he thanked her before measuring the placement of the two planks by sight.
"No problem," she said. "Oh, speaking of everyone's favourite ray of sunshine - he's been in a shitty mood this afternoon. What's up with him?"
In the process of applying the first strike to the first nail, Hiccup winced, and the hammer froze midway. He exhaled a long breath through his nose, and said, "I kinda mentioned Belle."
It was Anna's turn to wince, and she even hissed a breath for emphasis. "Ayayay - no wonder he was so grumpy. Belle's, like, his berserk button. Why'd you mention her?"
"It was an accident! I saw this rose poking out of his vest, and I made a comment on how it was her favourite flower. He looked at me like I just burned a bunch of books, yelled something about not knowing a thing, and stormed out. Toothless was, like, 'what just happened?'. I mean... wait…"
Anna frowned and cocked her head. "What's wrong?"
Hiccup looked up at her, face slack with understanding. The hammer fell against the crucifix, more a reaction to the clues falling into place than bad aim. "I think I worked out who the fourth cross is for…"
Anna's eyes went wide, the penny dropping. "Belle's dead? We've been thinking for over a year that she was M.I.A... why didn't Koz say anything?"
"Dunno," Hiccup said, "but I'm not gonna ask him. Are you?"
"Hell no." Anna looked at him like he'd just suggested he paint Toothless' scales a shocking pink. Chuckling, Hiccup returned his attention to the first nail and vigorously tapped it into the wood. "I don't back down from a fight, but even I…"
He didn't notice Anna trailing off at first. The next nail was threatening to misalign itself and go somewhere only it knew, so he was too focused on tapping its side to cotton on to her abrupt silence, and how the wind had changed direction. Instead of his forehead being tickled by his errant bangs as they haphazardly danced in the breeze, the nape of his neck was being pelted by a bitterly cold gust. He shivered, and glanced up to see if it was just him feeling the chill - which was when he noticed Anna's head moving to and fro, her eyes rapidly scanning the sky behind him, body erect and alert.
"Anna? What's up?"
The faintest of smiles curled her lips though her eyes were still of concern. Her gaze did not come down from the purple, cloud-swept sky. "Jack's coming back," she said, both happily and relievedly.
Hiccup straightened and twisted around to scan the sky. He couldn't see anything remotely looking like a snow-haired Ghost approaching, just a lilac canvas and dark cotton puffs. "How'd you figure that?"
"The wind," Anna said. "Until a minute ago, it's been a cool breeze behind me - now it's a freezing gale in my face."
"Could be just cross-winds," Hiccup suggested, giving her an odd look out of the corner of his eye.
Anna's smile turned into a wry smirk, and she returned his look with something that was annoyingly smug. "Cross-winds. Sure. Tell me, how's your spleen?"
It took him a moment to comprehend her meaning, especially with her being so uncharacteristically vague - maybe she was just trying to mock him - but once he remembered his favourite embellishment for how cold it could be, he registered how chilly it actually was. "Frostbitten," he said with a tone dryer than the salt flats in zone twenty-six as he looked back up at the sky. "Jack's coming back."
The gusts of wind became one full blast in their faces, enough to cause Hiccup to stumble backwards, and howled around them with enough force to bang the farmhouse's window shutters against the wall. "Something's wrong," he said, struck with the compulsion to state the obvious.
"Yeah," Anna said, all trace of her upbeat tones disappearing. "He's pissed."
"You can feel that?"
"No." Anna shook her head and drew her arms around herself. Whether it was from the viciously dropping temperature, or her automatic reaction to negative emotions within, he wasn't sure. Until she elaborated. "When Jack's worried, sad or anxious, the air gets colder. When he's angry, or hurting, the wind gets stronger. Right now, it's both."
"I've got an idea," she said. Unfurling her arms, she conjured a small ball of flame in her right hand and cast it away, where it landed a few feet to her right. After a sweeping motion from the same hand, the flame became a ten foot long line that led to the house, flickering and occasionally intensifying with the wind. "Hopefully he can see that," she said as she returned her gaze to the sky.
"He can," Hiccup said, and pointed to just over the treeline, where a small dot was rapidly approaching. "Look."
Sure enough, the dot grew and grew into a full-sized Jack, staff protruding from his right hand and the large bag he left with over his shoulder. What made Hiccup backpedal a few steps was the speed at which he approached, and any wonders as to whether he would slow down to landing were swiftly dispelled by the grassy thud of the harsh three-point landing as a result of the approach speed. Not to mention he had only stopped for half a second before marching on toward the house, completely failing to acknowledge their existence. It was especially rude, thought Hiccup, when Anna was the one to guide him in.
"Jack!" she called out, her left hand waving over the flames to extinguish them as she jogged just to keep up with him. "What's the matter?"
The thing that really took Hiccup aback, was that even partially concealed by his hood, Jack's face was like thunder.
Jack knew it wasn't right to ignore her. After all, she did create a quasi-runway light for him, which ensured he would not hit the farmhouse wall in the dark. Judging by how she was keeping up with him, asking him what the matter was - surely, she should know? - his theory that she wasn't the crazy ragey widow anymore was proving itself.
Still, he was world-class at shutting the world out when he was pissed and hurting, so ignoring her was surprisingly easy and even cathartic - if guilt-inducing. After all, he found out the only thing in his mind that would justify his ascension to leadership had been shot down before he even set out to achieve it. He kept his staff extended as he stomped up onto the veranda; he had a suspicion he would not be there for long.
"Jack, talk to me. Let me help."
It was on the tip of his tongue to issue a vicious remark on the hypocrisy of her words. He focused his attention on going inside - there was an item in his bedroom he wanted - and then he'd probably find somewhere to be alone and think. Naturally, such a plan was wide open to life's intervention, which happened as soon as he opened the front door in the form of Kozmotis barring his path. Instinctively, Jack tried to move past him, but the taller Ghost blocked whichever way he chose.
"Well, well," Kozmotis said, in a tone far too reminiscent of the one he used in the Star's gym, "the prodigal leader returns."
Jack drew himself to his full height, rolled his shoulders back and glared unblinkingly into Kozmotis' golden black hole eyes. "Move, Pitch," he said, with as much calm as a thunderstorm could muster.
Kozmotis sneered - lip curl and all. "Ignore him, Jack," Anna quickly attempted to interject, "Hiccup says he's been in a bad mood all day."
Golden eyes looked over the top of snow white hairs to rest on aquamarine blues. "I think I can speak for myself, Anna."
"Leave her alone," Jack growled, "and get out of my way."
Kozmotis' gaze slowly travelled back down to meet Jack's, and studied him for a second, before chuckling darkly and standing to the side. Muttering a brisk thanks, Jack resumed his journey toward his bedroom.
"Did you kill a Valkyrie?"
And then stopped dead. Wide eyes focused themselves on dimly lit floorboards - huh, Hiccup got the power working - and his right hand squeezed his staff. "What makes you think that's what I was gonna do?"
It was a pointless question, considering he already gave a skyscraper-sized hint to everyone in the room that the question had hit the mark, but in some inept and wild form of defending himself, it slipped out before he even noticed. Silence hung in the air like an unwelcome smell, mingling with the thick and taut tension that was inches from snapping.
"You took Pippa with you."
Jack let out a shaky breath, one he had to force his lungs to keep quiet. Hiccup must have talked, or Kozmotis invaded Jack's personal space and searched his room. It was fine Hiccup knowing when he hadn't assumed that one of the Valkyries was on Jack's hit list - but Kozmotis was as astute as ever. In front of Anna.
Who was, more than likely, putting two and two together.
Hence why he wasn't going to turn around.
"And if I did?"
"You're not answering my question," Kozmotis repeated, and there was a forceful, angry, gritted-teeth quality to his speech that Jack wasn't sure he liked, judging by the trickle of something sinister down his spine. "I asked you if you killed a Valkyrie."
"No."
What followed was something Jack expected yet didn't expect, as it was exactly what Kozmotis would come out with, yet was surprised he would come out with such a thing in front of someone who had more emotional ties to the clusterfuck of a situation than anyone in the room.
"Why not?"
Jack's head swiveled to give him one of the most stupefied expressions he had ever adopted in all the years he could remember. Kozmotis could be as insensitive as a spiked snowball and about as user friendly, but this was beyond that. This was outright heartless. His mind cycled through replies as he stared, answers like "because I'm not an inconsiderate fuck like you", and "Two words: Rule Six" along with "oh, sure, let's use a loud weapon no-one's heard for over fifty years in the middle of the second busiest city to kill one person. Prick."
He settled on a question. Unslinging the bag from his shoulder, he let it fall to the floor with a heavy clunk to prove a point. "What do you think?" He passed his staff to his left hand and turned toward the hallway into the rest of the house, hoping that was the end of it.
Hope was in short supply, and it wasn't likely any hope would be air-dropped soon, it seemed, because Kozmotis went from just-about-calm to enraged in the space of a second. What he wanted, Jack didn't know, but it was clear he would not stop. It was also clear, he didn't care who he hurt.
He stalked behind Jack, yelling every step of the way. "What do I think? I think you're a half-measure. I think you're a coward. I think you don't have the stomach to get the job done, and I think Kristoff made a mistake having you as his second-in-command!"
Jack snarled, clenching his shaking fists. "Back off, Koz." He kept walking, and had just passed into the hall.
"I knew you were weak. You hit them, and they get back up. I do, and they stay down!"
Red was all Jack saw, and before his brain could materialise a thought he had turned to drive a fist into Kozmotis' jaw. The stricken man stumbled amid cries and yells to stop, but Jack wasn't listening anymore. Dropping the staff to the floor, his hands lashed out to grab fistfuls of Kozmotis' shirt and yanked him up to slam him against the corner where the living room met the hallway, hard enough for a cry of pain to escape from the otherwise hardy Ghost.
He stared at the smirking man, eyes wide with wrath and breaths coming deep and fast, barely controlled by thought, his knuckles digging into Kozmotis' chest with how hard he was holding him against the corner.
"Jack!" yelled Anna. "Let him go!"
He ignored her. "You wanna know why I didn't take the shot?!" Jack roared. If this was catharsis, he wasn't sure whether it was after the crap Kozmotis threw at him or the entire damn week. "You wanna know why?!"
He released Kozmotis' T-shirt and stepped back. Without even looking, he pointed at Anna, who judging by how the temperature of the air at his left had risen, had moved to try and stop the fight.
"She is why."
He watched Kozmotis' smirk fall quicker than the fiercest rain, and watched his eyes shoot over to Anna, and gaze at her with an expression he couldn't quite work out. "Fuck you, Koz," Jack spat, before darting down to pick up his staff and making his way to the hallway. He cast one look at Anna before he moved and she looked back at him with a mix of relief, gratitude, surprise and appreciation, but also a little fear.
He went into the hallway. "Jack, wait!" he heard her call out.
He saw Elsa.
He saw Elsa long enough to put her in his sights.
Anna was stunned. No-one told her he'd taken Pippa with him, she just thought he'd gone for information gathering and reconnaissance. Nothing about assassination. Now, she found out it was both, and he had pointed a gun at her sister. Strangely, she didn't feel infuriated that he had done that, but felt a weird sense of relief and appreciation he didn't take the shot. Even more so that he was putting her emotional well-being over his justifiable chance at vengeance.
"Fuck you, Koz," Jack spat. Unable to speak or move, Anna watched as he darted down to pick up his staff, and felt herself become rigid when he looked at her. What was it in his eyes? Guilt? Expectancy? A plea for understanding... for help?
Help me?
He continued on toward his bedroom. "Jack, wait!" she called out. She wasn't about to let him be alone. There was so much that needed to be said. So much she had to apologise for, and if she had to be honest she was crying out for his presence.
He ignored her. Stirred into action, she followed him into the hallway, and heard the slam of his bedroom door. The click of the lock. Her breath caught in her throat, and she slowed to a standstill - it was happening all over again. She was being separated from someone she deeply cared about by a door. "Jack, please, I need to talk to you," she called out, and pushed herself on. It hurt, but she would not hold it against him. She knew none of it would have happened if she hadn't blown up at him like she did.
She reached the door and hammered a fist against it. "Don't shut me out, Jack. I want to fix this, let me come in!"
Pausing, she listened out - nothing. She thought she heard the sound of wood scraping against wood, but she couldn't be sure over her rampaging heartbeat. "Jack, give me a chance to talk. I need to talk to you."
"Anna, give him time. He'll come around."
She glanced at Hiccup, who stood where the living room met the hallway. Behind him, Kozmotis gingerly lowered himself onto one of the chairs surrounding the worn dining table, left arm resting upon the table while his right hand massaged his jaw. She shook her head. No way in hell was she going to let it happen again. "I can't, Hiccup. He's hurting, and he needs me."
She did the only thing that made sense to her at the time. She took two steps back, focused her gaze at a patch of the door a few inches away from the lock, sucked in a breath, and aimed a kick fuelled by all the strength she could muster. Her boot hit the door with a bang, wrenching it away from the lock with a pained wooden creak, and forcing it to swing wide and slam against the wall.
Her heart fell, and her arms dropped to hang at her sides. She was already too late - there was no sign of him. Nothing to show he'd ever been there... except a wide-open window on the other side of the room, nestled in between aged and dirty yellow curtains that flapped in the breeze. Gasping, she rushed onward and leaned out of the window, frantically scanning the sky.
Her shoulders flopped, and disappointment reigned over her. The sky was dark blue, and Jack-free. "Dammit," she whispered.
Time: 18:50
Ninety minutes.
Ninety minutes of floor-pacing, under-breath-muttering worry.
Her hands linking themselves to her chest, Anna completed another length of the living room. She was still oblivious to Hiccup, who had spent the same amount of time alternating between attempting to read a book, attempting to spin a metal washer on the table, attempting to fix a gadget, attempting to get her to calm down, and attempting to get Toothless to calm down - the not-so-large size of the living room prevented the dragon from taking shelter inside. The key word was attempting - a pacing, muttering, worried fire-wielding abbie was kind of a distraction she would freely admit to.
"You know, I'd crack a joke about you burning a line in the floor, but you might actually do that."
Stopping halfway in his general direction, Anna looked up at him, offered a nervous titter, and immediately resumed her pacing. Sure, it was funny, but sometimes humour wasn't as effective as the old saying about medicine implied. Worrying about what could have happened to Jack ranked high on that list. She heard a groan from somewhere around the dining table, and ignored that, too.
"He'll come back, Anna," the rider offered in another attempt, one of reassurance. Anna was unaffected.
"It's been an hour and a half. It's dark out. He should be back by now," she rambled.
"He's fine," Hiccup said. "Trust me. He wants to be alone."
She shook her head more vigorously than would be considered normal and doubled back. "Nobody wants to be alone. Except maybe Koz."
"Yeah, well, I told you."
Intrusive thoughts circled like vultures, of Jack being torn apart. "But what if Reapers got him?"
"We would have heard their shrieks," Hiccup said without a trace of concern.
"Maybe he ran into a Unity patrol…" Now the thoughts were of him standing alone against a legion of faceless clones. Jack was good, but he wasn't invincible. None of them were. The Purge proved that. Abbies may be stronger, faster and tougher than humans or clones, but they were still mortal.
"Then," Hiccup sighed, "he would have called for backup. Or taken them out. Anna, he's okay."
She knew he was trying his best to ease her anxiety, and on any other day Hiccup was good at that sort of thing. Kristoff once joked that he was the ship's counselor, given that he was usually the person people talked at whenever they had problems. Still, it wasn't having much of an effect on the tightness in her chest - if anything, it was making it worse.
She stopped mid-pace, unable to take the waiting anymore. Patience was never her strong suit after all. "I'm going to find him," she declared, and strode off toward her bedroom.
As predicted, Hiccup got up to follow her and protest. "Anna…"
"No, Hic," she said as she pushed open the door. She briskly went to the nightstand and pulled open the topmost drawer, where a stun pistol lay inert. "I can't sit around here and wait for something bad to happen." She pulled out the pistol before lifting her right foot onto the bed and slipping the weapon into her thigh holster. Just in case. "He needs to know I still care, and the best way for me to prove that is to go out and find him."
Hiccup sighed and held up his hand. "Okay, fine. But I'm coming with you."
Anna shook her head, and moved past him to leave the bedroom, practically jogging to the door. "Thanks, but no. I need to do this alone."
"I wasn't asking."
Hand on the door handle, she turned and gave him a surprised look, which he returned with an expression of immovable resolve. Generally, Hiccup was easy going and chilled, but could be assertive when the situation called for it. It must have been one of those times, yet she was still taken aback.
He lifted a finger. "For one, I'm not letting you do this alone. I'm getting a little tired of people going off and doing their own thing, worrying everyone else along the way, so I'm coming with you. We both know Jack would never forgive himself if something happened to you." Second finger went up. "Two, it's gonna be a helluva lot easier to fly than drive." Third finger. "Three, Toothless has been getting antsy, and he deserves a chance to stretch his wings. Poor guy's been cooped up around the farm."
She relaxed, but it was out of exasperation. "Hic…"
He spread his hands, offering compromise. "Look, if you wanna talk to him alone, that's fine. I'll just fly you there and leave. You two figure it out, Jack'll give you a lift back. Just gimme a few minutes to get Toothless ready, and get your cloak."
She frowned and tilted her head. "Why the cloak?"
Hiccup gave her an odd look. "You kidding me? Forgotten what the air was like earlier? You'll probably be walking into a snowstorm."
She tilted her head back and conceded the point with a mumble of "ah." Granted, she hadn't intended to wear the cloak until the funeral, but Hiccup was right. Jack could tolerate extreme cold, and it was certain he would have conjured up a snowstorm to keep people away. Her own gifts would have held back the storm, but short of covering her entire body in flames - which would leave her naked in the blizzard, even with the fire-retardant material Hiccup had woven into her clothing long ago - it would be difficult to hold back the icy bite of the air.
"I'll wait for you outside," she said, opening the door and stepping off the veranda onto the damp grass, the faintest hiss of the moisture sat on the blades of green evaporating into the air accompanying Hiccup's strides toward the barn.
Maybe it was the difference in reason for her waiting, but the thoughts in her mind were no longer a laundry list of horrible things that could happen to her friend without her to back him up. Rather, they were memories of things they had gotten up to, and the times they'd grown closer. The sessions of powers-training where, over time, she'd learned to control and manipulate her gift with precision - one memory easily came to the front of her mind, of the later stages of her training. Fire was hungry; it consumed, grew, spread. Consumed, grew, spread. Nature, wiping the slate clean with ash and flame. That evening's lesson was to learn how to bend it to her will, rather than direct it and let it satisfy its need to devour, she had to use it like she would use a tiny paintbrush to paint the smallest picture. To make the inferno consume what she wanted, how much of it she wanted, and control it with absolute confidence.
By the end of the fourth lesson - it had taken her a few sessions to get to grips with it - she had impressed him with her ability to ignite the smallest patch of air in front of her eyes and set her hair aflame, making her eyes look like she was a being of pure fire wrapped in the body of a human. She never did it again unless she wanted to show off.
She flexed and relaxed her fingers over and over again; clench and release, clench and release, to assuage their need to do something. She eventually figured they would be happier manipulating a tiny ball of flame around her hand as practise to keep her powers sharp, so conjured a small fireball to keep herself entertained.
Which was when she realised - finding Jack would be easier than she thought.
The tips of the flames were dragged away by a gentle breeze, like they were being coaxed toward a specific direction. She looked away at nothing in particular, paying close attention to the breeze and how it wasn't chaotic and indecisive like they usually are. It was sustained, and clear with its intent. A smile tugged at her lips. She lowered her hand and gently tossed the fireball into the air, watching as it floated along the breeze to the west for a few yards before flickering out.
"Follow the wind," she murmured. "You're telling me where to go, aren't you?"
The blizzard that encircled the small hill wasn't as bad as either Anna or Hiccup expected - far from it. She was expecting a full-blown snowstorm, wild and large enough to attract attention from miles around, and a carpet of ice under her feet.
As she slid down the scales on Toothless' back, she watched the flakes shoot by. It wasn't a lazy snowfall - the flakes were travelling at fast enough speeds to warrant uncertainty and the use of a hand to cover the eyes, and there were enough of them to cover the world in a horizontally travelling blanket of white that appeared and disappeared in the dark. It was fierce, certainly, but even though the wind howled in her ears, it wasn't dangerous.
In short - it wasn't a "stay the hell away from me" blizzard. She thought of it as an "I'm hurting and I want my friend" blizzard.
"You gonna be okay in there?" Hiccup asked nervously, his eyes fixed too on the whirling white screen.
Anna didn't answer at first. The sight of so much snow was sending her down Memory Lane on a hoverbike, with memories of snowmen and snow angels with her sister, cavorting for hours in a canvas of alabaster, and memories of frenetic snowball fights with Jack on the deck of the Star. Summer was her favourite season, but winter aroused such a childish joy that few other things could compare with it. A smile curled her lips and her inner child danced a little jig, pushing back the darkness of the world.
Still, it was enough to give Hiccup cause for concern, not to mention how the air was bitterly cold. That part she wasn't looking forward to - being pelted by snow while she pushed on, she could put up with, but the cold air would make it outright painful.
It didn't matter. "I'll be fine, Hic," said Anna. She drew her hood over her head, and pulled the cloak tighter around herself, hoping he didn't notice. Breathing in and out to prepare herself, she took the first step toward the swirling vortex of white.
"Wait!"
... and then stopped in her tracks. Turning, she gave Hiccup a disapproving frown, which turned to a relaxed grin of gratitude when she saw the artificial torch in his hand, the light banishing the darkness. "Figured you could use this," he said, and handed it to her.
"Thanks," she said. "See you back at the house."
Without another word, and without allowing herself a moment's hesitation, she turned back to the snowstorm and walked in... which was where the strangest thing happened. Instead of buffeting her to the left and spraying her with thick, large flakes of snow, the wind seemed to curve around her. The white flecks lost momentum, descending to graze the grass in front of her before being picked up again on her other side, and nary a snowflake touched her cloak. It was like the storm was granting her access, clearing her a path then veiling it behind her. Curious, she stopped and turned to look back at Hiccup, who under the dwindling glow of the torch had stuck his hand into the blizzard only to yank it back out again with a yelp of "yeesh, that's cold", before frantically brushing off the white powder that had covered his arm in a mere second.
She chucked to herself - only she was allowed in. Whether it was Jack's subconscious, or the wind possessing some form of sentience, she wasn't sure. Either way, it would make her job a damn sight easier. Turning back, she continued on through the haze of white, one hand clutching the cloak to hold off the chilly air whilst the other held the torch in front of her. The snow crunched under her boot, the shift in the powdery bed with each step making that inner child dance a little more. Minutes passed, with the wintry haze coming thicker and faster the further she walked.
It suddenly calmed.
Anna stopped in her tracks. Confused, she looked behind her, noticing how the veil of white still raged on. She turned back and looked at the ground - snow-free. "Huh," she murmured. "Snow," she thumbed behind her, "no snow," she pointed down. "Snow, no snow."
"Believe it or not," a voice called out ahead, "this isn't what it's supposed to be like."
A quiet intake of breath, and she lifted the torch - there he was, merely a few yards ahead. He was knelt, sat on his feet with his back to her, his hood covering his head and his staff across his lap. Completely still, and had he not spoken, there was no sign he knew of her presence. Allowing herself a small sigh of relief, she made her way to his side and lowered herself to the ground.
"You found me," he said emotionlessly, once she finished getting comfortable in a cross-legged position, and placed the torch in front of them.
"You weren't exactly difficult to find," she said. "If we Ghosts want to disappear, we disappear, but you kinda left one hell of a trail." She jabbed a thumb behind her. "You're lucky this is snowstorm season, 'cause breadcrumbs doesn't cut it."
Jack issued a noncommittal hum.
She cast him a single glance; he still stared out into the dark with sad, thoughtful eyes, and his bangs poked out from under the hood hem. The air felt somewhat awkward, like both of them were full of things to say but left them unsaid, let them hang in the air between them. It clenched at Anna's stomach. "So what is it supposed to be like?" she tried to start with small talk.
"Still."
Anna couldn't help snorting. "Seriously?"
That time, Jack joined in the humour, even if it was in the form of the faintest smile. "Yep," he said with a voice of bitter self-ridicule, "There's only supposed be six or seven snowflakes, and they're meant to be hovering around me."
She looked at him. "That's the technique Mulan taught you?"
"Yeah." Jack's head bowed an inch, and his fingers absentmindedly rolled the staff between them on his lap. "She said if my mind is all over the place and I need to get my bearings, then I should do this. I'm trying, but... it's not working."
"What do you have to do?" she asked, wondering if there was a way she could help.
Jack shrugged lightly. "In a word? Focus. I make six or seven snowflakes, let a breeze carry them around me, and then concentrate on trying to make them stay still. The longer I do it, the easier it gets, so my mind can then work stuff out on its own. Problem is, I can't focus hard enough to focus in the first place."
Anna glanced at the swirling snow, barely visible whorl around her. "So you can't calm it down."
"Nope. I tried, but I guess I'm screwing that up, too."
Anna closed her eyes and gently winced. "Jack," she said, her voice cracking as she turned to look into his eyes, "I'm sorry about-"
He shook his head. "Not just yet, Anna. I'm not ready."
"Okay," she whispered, her eyes falling.
Silence descended between them. His eyes remained focused on a small patch of grass while hers constantly glanced up at him and back down to his knee. She hated the uncomfortable, awkward air. The words she wanted to say were scrambling from her heart to her throat, but clashing against the wall made by her mind.
Jack took a deep breath through his nose. "When Kristoff made me his XO, I couldn't understand why. I mean, he had Hiccup and Pitch, but he decided on me. After a while, I was okay with it, because I didn't need to make the tough decisions. If I was going to screw up, I could count on him and Neve to stop me, like a safety net. I wasn't the top dog, but I could tell the top dog if he was making a bad call, or back him up if it was a good one. Just enough responsibility."
Anna watched him closely, absorbing every word. "Now they're gone. I'm the one everyone's looking to, and there's no-one to catch me if I fall. I've got to make the big calls, and I don't think I can describe how royally screwed I think I am."
Her hand instinctively went to rest on his and squeezed. He didn't pull away - she took that as progress. "Jack, my husband made you his XO because he wanted to. You know Kristoff; he never did things without a reason that made sense. He thought you were leadership material."
He turned to look at her, and she flinched slightly. His eyes were puffy and red, and the trails of something that had long fallen adorned his inflamed cheeks. "Leadership of what, Anna? The Ghosts are pulling apart when we should be unified, and my only chance at proving Kozmotis wrong was shot down when Unity decided we'll never see Sanctuary again."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
He looked away. "I had a plan... well, part of a plan. When the funeral was over, I was going to get hold of a fuel cell so we could use the Fairy again, then take us all back home where we could wait for Unity and the Alliance to wipe each other out. That way, we could still be with our friends." His eyes moved, and he cast a bitter look at the veiled snowfall. "This afternoon, Unity stepped up their border security for the foreseeable future, so as soon as we cross their sensor lines, they'll be on us quicker than Toothless can fart. Anna... we're never going home."
Strangely, his statement didn't affect her as much as she thought it should. "Can I be honest with you, Jack?"
"Sure."
She smiled. "Going home was never really an option."
He gave her an odd look. "You see," Anna continued, "I wanna be somewhere, where I can make a difference. That's not at Sanctuary. That's here. Hiding was never my strong suit - after all, that's how you and those A.A.S-holes found me, remember?"
Jack snorted slightly. "I remember."
"Good. Here's the thing," she said. "It doesn't matter how it happened, you are a leader now. So, lead. Become who my husband thought you could be. Who we all think you can be."
Jack looked away, unconvinced. It wasn't how she wanted to break the news, but she knew it was time to bring out the big guns. "Jack, I need you. The team needs you. The baby... needs you."
Jack's head whipped around. He stared at her, dumbfounded. "Th... the baby?"
She smiled at him, though it was a bittersweet curl. "Yeah. I'm pregnant. I... wanted you to be the first to know... but Pitch kinda worked it out first. Sorry about that. Anyway... surprise!"
His face did away with its prior chain of pained, thoughtful, unconvinced and then stupefied expressions, and settled on elated. "Congratulations, firecracker!" Without warning, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a one-armed hug. She gasped, initially taken aback by the surprise gesture especially considering how sullen he was up to that point, but quickly melted into the embrace. "I'm happy for you. Kristoff…" he trailed off, and it was that combined with what came next that sent a shock of pain through her heart, "he'd be over the moon."
"He would," she whispered, "and it kills me he will not be around for his child... but I've gotta think about its future. My baby's gonna need a positive male influence in his life, they're gonna need a father figure. Or a crazy uncle, whichever. Will you…. be their godfather?"
He squeezed her shoulders. It was a non-verbal answer as clear as day. She closed her eyes and smiled, just as he made the answer official. "You just opened Pandora's box, Anna. Of course I will. Anything for you and the kid."
She pulled away, just enough to beam and wrap her arms around his neck. "Thanks," she said. "They'll grow up with all the snowmen they could ever ask for."
"Don't forget the snowball fights," Jack pointed out, mouth partially buried in the fabric of her cloak.
"Can't forget them."
A heaviness clawed at her heart, tempering the buoyant cheer in her chest that was warming her faster than a fire ever could. Jack had already gone from awkward and cold to cheery and huggy, and she felt undeserving of it. So much had been said, but so much remained to be said. She pulled away and gazed into his eyes whilst she held his right hand. "I'm so sorry for how I treated you."
"Anna…" he began, but she held up a hand.
"Please, I need to say this," she implored him. His brow furrowed and his mouth opened to issue a rebuttal, but the pleading expression she wore seemed to give him pause. He closed his eyes and nodded. "Thank you," she said. "You and I are best friends. We're so close. When I was in hell, you were trying to be there for me. You knocked on my door, and I shut you out. I screamed at you, I wanted to hurt you... when I should have been letting you in. I blamed you for something you had no control over, and I will never forgive myself for blaming you for the deaths of my husband and Neve. You were just trying to be my best friend, and I rewarded you for that by hurting you so much, and that's on me. I'm not even going to say it was the pregnancy hormones, or the grief. I shouldn't have done it, and I am so, so sorry."
She frowned, holding back the emotions raging inside her. "Can you ever forgive me?"
He chuckled under his breath, a nasal chuckle that accompanied the wry lift of the corner of his lips. "Funny thing about that," he said, "but I think I already forgave you the moment I landed in New Burgess, and stayed in the house we rescued you from. I guess I needed time."
She gave him an odd look, though she couldn't deny the relief that flooded through her. "You mean that? After all that happened?"
He quirked his lips sideways and looked off in the distance with an expression of mock thought on his face. She was so focused on whether he was being sincere or not, that she didn't notice how his right hand moved behind his back, nor the mischievous smirk growing. "We-ell... there is one way you could make it up to me. We could do something we haven't done in months."
"What's that?" she asked, just as his right hand moved.
She didn't have time to react before he smooshed a snowball in her face. Releasing his hand, she shrieked in surprise, and the powder - melting quickly thanks to her higher-than-normal body temperature - dropped into her gaping mouth. It wouldn't have been anywhere near as bad had she expected it, but nevertheless she froze, completely taken out of left field.
Then she heard a victorious cackle, and a scramble of feet away from her. She wiped away the melting snow with a stiff hand and shot him the chilliest of glares as he jogged light footedly about in the pile of snow.
"You!" she hissed, fending off the shivers, "you... you... just squashed a snowball into the face of a pregnant woman!"
Jack cackled, doubling over in laughter. "I've got a…" he paused to catch his breath, "good four months before I feel guilty about it! Oh boy." Wiping tears away from his eyes, the infernal smirk widened across his lips as he straightened up, and gestured at the carpet of white around him. "But if you wanna punish me, there's plenty of ammo around!"
A playful, vengeful look crossed her face. A sly grin curled her lips. She stood, ignoring the steam of the melted snow evaporating from her face. She stalked toward him, ducking to scoop a handful of snow. "Oh, I'm gonna punish you, alright! C'mere!"
The snowball fight that ensued was vicious, frenetic, full of childish glee and laughter, and took no prisoners, with Anna claiming final victory over a fallen, laughing Jack covered in splodges of white - and in their fun, neither of them noticed that the snowstorm had long stopped raging.
Time: 20:55
The conversation and reconciliation had left Jack as feeling as light as the air he and Anna would have floated on, had she not requested that they make the journey back by foot. "I know it's five miles away," she had said, "but I just wanna ride out this good feeling a little longer."
Jack had agreed. If he had to be honest with himself, he done too much flying over the past week. Besides, having Anna's arms hooked around his and her head against his upper arm as they walked and talked, reminiscing about Neve, Kristoff, and exploits the team had gotten up to? It felt good.
They had walked about half the distance when Anna brought up something he hadn't expected, and admittedly put him on the spot - because if he thought he and Anna had issues up until that point, they were nothing compared to another.
"So," she said in an attempt to sound breezy and indifferent, "you saw my sister, huh?"
Jack looked down through the corner of his eye in puzzlement, and back up over the field they were walking through. "Yeah."
He heard a loud breath and felt a slight squeeze of his arm. "What was she like?"
Jack's mind automatically made a translation: My sister on the Star was a world away from my sister before she isolated herself, and she could well have been a completely different sister when you were pointing a gun at her.
He gave her a noncommittal answer - he wasn't sure where she was going with it, and after a particularly excellent snowball fight, didn't much fancy darkening the mood. "She was pretty." Shallow, physical appreciation ought to do it... and she truly was pretty.
"Anything else?"
"Is there a reason you're asking?" said Jack.
Anna sighed. "I don't know." Her voice was uncertain, like she was talking about a door she wasn't sure she wanted to open.
Jack glanced down at her again, and his gaze lingered on the top of her head, where strawberry blonde was faultlessly parted by a line of skin to form twin braids, the streak of white mingling with the right one. She really was short. Maybe it was the inevitable time to relay the conversation.
"She was scared."
"Of what?"
"Of us thinking she wanted the Purge to happen. She said she never meant for it to happen like that," Jack explained. He heard a light, bitter scoff from his left.
"But she meant for everything up to the ship blowing up to happen." Heat blossomed around Jack's arm as soon as she spoke. He consciously attempted to cool the area down. "She was fine with people being hurt, being scared. Fine with trying to kill you."
Jack chuckled. "Doesn't really help her case, does it?"
Anna said nothing.
Jack exhaled through his nose. They had to be getting close to home by now. He was starting to wish they had flown back; conversations like that where he was effectively a facsimile, a ghost for the person she really needed answers from left him feeling awkward and helpless. "She said she knows the truth about what happened."
"And do you believe her?"
Jack wasn't sure how to answer that. His mind said it was possible, but his heart spoke with four different voices: Shrek's, Kristoff's, Belle's and Neve's. So he was silent. Images of Emma floated to his mind instead, of her face during the argument he had with his mother in the hours before he bloomed. It was a painful memory he had tried to block out for years, one that still wracked him with guilt. "I don't know if I do, either," Anna said.
The faintest lights hovered in the dark far ahead. Lights that didn't move, glowing in specific places in the curtain of black. Home was within sight.
"She asked me to give you a message," he said. The part of him that cried out for his sister was twinging faintly. Anna gave a noncommittal hum, her unspoken way of asking him to continue. He took a long, deep breath through his nose - what was about to follow, he had no way to predict.
"She asked me to tell you that she loves you."
Anna was remarkably silent. He felt a sudden spike of heat on his arm in addition to a tighter squeeze, and heard the catch of her breath, but no words left her lips. It faintly bemused him, but neither he nor anyone could understand what it was like to be on opposing sides of a battle line with one's own sibling, especially one who had committed such acts as Elsa. He had no idea what it was like to be Anna at that moment.
"I'm tired," she said after a long, long period of silence, with a voice that sounded strained, "and I've had a pretty good evening. Can we talk about something else, please?"
Jack's eyes fell to the floor in thought. Maybe even Anna didn't know what it was like to be Anna.
"Sure."
A/N:
Me: Excuse me, waiter? Could I have some crackers with this cheese?
Waiter: No, you can have just the cheese and like it, you picky tosser. Sir.
Yeah...it's probably cheesy. Thing is, I looked in the cupboard and found no cares, so...shrug. Be thankful it wasn't the original incarnation when Jack's in floods of tears (don't blame me, blame "Binary Sunset" from Star Wars: A New Hope...the sequence where Luke gazes out into the twin sunset). I would imagine people were also expecting a massive bust-up, but in my mind they are so close, it would take something huge to drive a wedge between them.
So, Hans, me old son, me old dodger, what're ya up to? Can't be nothin' good, you know, 'cause you're a canon villain with about as much empathy as a pair of spiked underpants. I suppose the real, important, life-defining question is - could Drago actually use Jafar as a toothpick? Inquiring minds want to know.
Oh, Anna. She doesn't know whether she's coming or going. Oh, Jack. You're the leader, now. Hop to it, squaddie. Oh, Pitch. TACTFULNESS. DO YOU USE IT. Oh, Hiccup. He does put up with a lot.
Right, now I've stopped rambling: I recently wrote and uploaded the first of two spinoffs "Of Ghosts and Valkyries: Final Flight of the Furies". The thing is, I encountered errors when I uploaded when I thought were fixed, but apparently some people can't access it. Luckily, I also uploaded it to Archive of Our Own - I'd give you all a link, but FFN precludes it, so if you search for my pseud and Ao3 on Google, you should find it when you click on the first link. Avoid "Blind" if you don't like Janna.
I don't know about you all, but I find the idea of a future where no-one has an idea of what a crucifix or any other religious symbol is to be bewildering. I mean, faith is a core part of the world we live in, one way or another, so a future where Anna mistakes it for a wonky plus sign? One of the reasons I put it in. Koz will elaborate on it further - in a church, of all places.
Finally, the chapter title is from an Evanescence song, where the interlude lyrics are: "Freedom! Freedom! Can't you feel the ground caving in? Freedom! Give us a reason to believe again!" which I absolutely adore. It also seems to convey, in my mind, Jack's feelings about the situation - Unity's finding new ways to make him bleed.
Next up: Wouldn't you like to know (read: I actually have to get the order of events concrete *looks away shyly*).
Guest mailbox!
Guest 1: I know, right? S'gonna be awesome when they do.
Snow Mexican: I can't hear Trump's name without sniggering. It means something rather crude in British colloquial language. Well, this is that conversation - I hope it was satisfactory.
Guest 2: :D hope this one was worth it, too!
Guest 3: Thank you! It was insane, this explosion of racism post-Brexit, and though it seems to have died down, there's a lot of work to be done around the world.
Kira: ...maybe she will. Who knows. As for Kristoff - who knows? ;)
Thank you all for reading, reviewing, following or favouriting my story. I adore you all like pizza. And I really like pizza.
Until next time!
Furiyan