You will not believe how much of a refresher the Frozen 2 trailer has been.


Omega [REDUX]

Chapter 50

Since he'd lost the ability to walk Charles had been through multiple phases of dealing with his newfound handicap. For a time, he cursed his circumstances, and the one who had set them upon him. An adjustment period, nothing more, or at least that was what he told himself nowadays. The resultant emotional fallout was something he would rather put behind him.

For a time after he made peace with it. He made peace with Elsa. By the time they had settled into a comfortable working relationship he had wrestled a reasonable amount of control over his life, no doubt a result of his constant training to adapt to new circumstances, no matter what they were. And while he would miss the rush of combat he would no longer have to deal with its lingering anxieties, from losing his own life to losing his men. After all, with him permanently relegated to handler, and his legs already gone, he had nothing left to lose. It freed him from the conventional mental constraints of service, and left him free to contribute in different ways.

Only now, as he wheeled his way into the hastily organised tribunal, did he feel truly vulnerable with his handicap.

He had not arrived without precautions. Whoever the hell the Empyrean traitors in their midst were, Kristoff and his own squad were more than a match. And they had a justifiable reason to be here, since they were going to discuss the Ascendant who had saved their life, and the other Ascendant they had rescued.

Anna had outlined the angle they should pursue, and Charles himself had learned much about the political battleground that was the UIF power structure. An organization burdened by its own size and its corresponding logistical nightmares was bound to have vying interests propagated by similarly competing individuals. Still, the way the room was angled for the rest of the tribunal to receive his speech was ominous; the central lighted dais that he would take to put forth his case was the lowest point of the domed room, with the Councillors, and the audience, staring down on him.

It felt like he was rolling into a trap.

His legs were a testament to how well that normally went.

"This tribunal will have order!" The foremost Councillor spoke into the mic, his voice reverberating across the room but not quite sufficient to calm the ambient din. It took him a further three tries for silence to settle across the crowd, accompanied by the banging of his gavel..

"Master Warrant Officer Charles," the Councillor began, "we called this assembly on your request, regarding the recent disappearance and defection of the Ascendant pair." He surveyed his fellow Councillors with a quick glance both ways, then refocused his attention upon Charles. "It is only by your . . . stature that we have granted this . . . ludicrous . . . request."

"With all due respect, Councillor," Charles said, ignoring the barb directed at him, "this is a matter of paramount importance. Any incident regarding the Ascendants normally is."

"This Council requires you to prove the brevity of the situation that you so boldly claim," came the response. "Why the UIF requires further action regarding the rogue Ascendants is something that has baffled the four of us."

"This Council's priority should be finding out why these Ascendants went rogue to begin with," Charles shot back.

"Master Warrant Officer, you can't be serious," came a second Councillor, hunching forward upon his table to get a better look at Charles. "The report issued by General Hans details the attack—"

"Detail?" Charles chuckled. "With all due respect, Councillors, have you even read the report? The one thing it glaringly lacks is details. It's a half-hearted attempt at explaining the sudden defection of the Ascendants. Generically describing how they attacked the General and his staff, and fleeing so quickly with no clear motive."

Charles had already found Hans sitting in the crowd; the dialogue was a deliberate barb, a test of Hans' psychological defences as multiple sets of eyes in the crowd turned toward the General. To his credit, Hans appeared unaffected, no doubt the result of his own extensive training. A fair fight, then, Charles mused.

"Are you deliberately questioning the chain of command?" a third Councillor demanded, incredulous. "This is an outrage—!"

"This is a clear example of the fundamental distrust of our two most lethal operatives," Charles shot back. "The only reason the lot of you are willing to believe this concoction of utter sham is because you are scared of them. Because it makes sense in your head, and makes sense in a vacuum. Not that the two are necessarily separate."

Small bursts of laughter and murmuring rippled through the crowd. The foremost Councillor slammed the gavel upon his desk multiple times to restore order once again. "Master Charles if I wanted to get roasted, I'd have gone to a comedy show, not host your antics—"

"In the absence of any clear detractions to my explanation," Charles cut in, "I'd like to formally introduce a request to further the investigation into the disappearance of our two Ascendants, one that I myself am willing to helm."

"This is preposterous," another Councillor spoke with a sweep of her hand. "Even if we were to grant your request, your direct involvement is a conflict of interest!"

"Seconded," came the first Councillor. "There's no way we would allow—"

"You would, of course, require someone with intimate knowledge of their psychological states, training doctrines and close relationships with them," Charles cut in, "criteria which you will find that I immediately fulfil. Even if you did find someone more qualified, I would inevitably be involved in some way."

Murmuring broke out amongst the assembled audience. Charles watched Hans for a reaction. A slight shift in his demeanour; he wasn't expecting this angle of attack. Clearly, he had few contingencies for this scenario. A good sign. Charles would need to press this advantage, and fast.

Yet he needed to do so without appearing too eager. "I have said my piece, Council," he concluded. "You only need consider my request." Because deep down, you know I'm correct.

Leaving the rising commotion behind him, Charles wheeled his way out of the assemblage.


"You think they bought it?"

"I think we'll have to wait and see, Kristoff. Though I do think I did a decent enough job."

"That's one way to put it."


Sometime during all her moping Elsa had decided that enough was enough.

It had taken her a long time. Far too long, in fact. And an unacceptable number of perilous incidents for her to reach this point. But reach this point she did.

It was time she got to terms with her current situation, and actually did something about it.

Recovery was always going to be something she was uncomfortable with; that much she was sure of. And as she kept training and training in her isolated corner of the world, she began to remember a few things. Like the hunger for information she once possessed, back when she was fresh from Empyrean's grasp, or as recent events would have it, when she thought she was free. It hadn't held her back then.

It would be a shame if it did now.

And so she trained. She fought the simulations Anna threw at her every day, and a few ones she crafted herself to hone specific maneuvers. Thus far she'd been on the verge of tantrums and concessions, teetering on the brink of abandoning it all. Now she fought the urge to slam a fist into the ground each time a stray bullet caught her in the shoulder, or when she overextended a swing to give her virtual opponents an opening.

Each mistake she made, she chose to pick herself up.

It would be a while before she realised that she was being kinder to herself. A slow, inscrutable change, but a change nonetheless. And while she wouldn't realise it, or chalk it up to her gradually improving her moves over time, she was content with the progress she was making. Her mood lightened. Every time she loaded up the simulations it was with less pain in her heart, and less gloom clouding her mind. For a brief moment, she thought she might be getting a little bit better.

Then she banished the thought from her mind and kept going.


Days passed without incident. She knew that it would take time for events to unfold. Even with Charles making internal maneuvers and Kristoff backing him up however he could. Both still had their duties to attend to, regardless whether it was a façade or not. They still had their own lives. Elsa sometimes thought of how it was chronically unfair that she was denied such a pleasure, but every day that pain lingered a little bit less.

She didn't know when she'd have to act yet. All the more reason to keep prepared.

"Now that you're not so superhuman," Merida remarked one day, "think we could have a go in the ring? Always wanted to have a spar or two."

She obliged Merida. And it was worthwhile. Merida had grown since the academy, both in mind and in body; her strikes were less sloppy and more forceful, a marked improvement since the last time Elsa had seen her fight, but not too quick that Elsa found herself overwhelmed.

It was nice to be able to keep pace with someone for once.

There was bound to be some irony in that thought, but Elsa didn't let it bother her for now. All that mattered was parrying Merida's attacks and finding openings. To her credit, Merida didn't make it easy for her either.

Before long the two of them found themselves trading tactics and testing moves, even beyond the confines of a competitive environment; Merida would show Elsa a trick or two with a bow, an area of combat that Elsa had neglected beyond mere improvisation, and how to use a single arrow as a force multiplier. In return Elsa shared the myriad of takedowns stuck inside her head, some occurring so naturally to her she had to think of the best way to show and explain to Merida.

"Guess you're not half bad, even without all the fancy biology," Merida said, jabbing her in the shoulder with a smile.

"You punch me again, and I'm taking you down," Elsa shot back with a grin.

"You're on."


Elsa resumed her duels with Anna. Same routine as before, same logic as before. If she could even keep pace with Anna in the slightest, then she'd be ready. But she didn't let that expectation hold her back, choosing instead to focus on honing her own reaction times. The first step was to dodge Anna's superspeed strikes. Then she could practice countering them.

It wasn't as satisfying, that was for sure. Elsa settled for being a mobile punching bag, where Anna would suddenly land two or three good hits and Elsa would need to take a break for the next hour. Anna had assured her that despite whatever Hans had put inside that chip, Elsa's enhanced physiology had remained uncompromised, but damn if Anna's hits didn't feel like a truck slamming into her face. It was frustrating, going at it only to be knocked out within thirty seconds.

But she kept at it. Like all those times in the academy when she'd devoured information, loaded up a simulation and pushed the absolute limit of what she was capable of. She'd done it alone, then. Now, with Anna giving her new scenarios all the time Elsa fought and punched and kicked her way back into some semblance of competency. Or at the very least, a combat-readiness state further away from the spectres of her failures and insecurities.

By the time a fortnight had passed since they'd relayed Charles and Kristoff the plan, Elsa was in much better shape, whether she wanted to admit it or not. Every now and then she'd have to remind herself that there was progress. Anna had come out of their training sessions looking more exhausted with every one that passed. Merida was close to giving up on their spars at times. Not that it was satisfying to start to wear her opponents down; it was satisfying to know that she was putting up more of a fight.

For now, there was her, Anna, Merida, and training routines. And for now, that was just enough.


"I'm proud of you."

Elsa turned. Anna sat there, gazing at her, a smile on her own face. They'd wrapped up training for the day. Merida had called dibs on the bathroom, and the two of them were too lazy to move to the ones further away. They'd been sitting there, letting the ache pulse through their veins and heat radiate from their skin.

"There's nothing to be proud of."

"You know, you could do without shutting yourself down whenever you get a compliment," Anna huffed, shifting herself closer to Elsa. "That hasn't changed. Not since they day I met you."

"That's not true," Elsa replied. "I don't negatively comment on everything I do."

"I see it in your eyes." A warm hand reached up to Elsa's cheek, tilting her head to look at Anna. "I see that same fire I saw when I first met you. But you always mix it with just enough disappointment in yourself to be a downer.'

Elsa rolled her eyes. "Please." She did not admit that Anna was right. She would never admit that to anyone. Not even herself. "I have to keep improving. There's no room to be complacent."

"There's still room to be proud of what you've done." The fingers on Elsa's cheek fell away. "I would never know what to do if I'd lost my powers like that."

"You'd do fine." Elsa folded her legs to her chest, crossing her arms over her knees and her head upon her arms, leaning forward as she looked at Anna. "You'd do . . . pretty much what we're doing now."

"Would I?" Anna's tentative gaze stretched toward the horizon. "I feel like I would have given up by now. With everything that's happened. A sentiment that you too expressed."

"It's still there." Now Elsa was being completely honest. "I still feel like nothing's ever enough. Like I'll never reach what I used to be."

"Maybe that's not what we need," Anna mused. "Maybe we just need to accept what we are now, instead of what we were. Maybe . . . maybe that's good enough."

Elsa didn't know if Anna was fully cognizant of the double meaning in her words, but she kept silent. It didn't detract from the value of her statements, however. Anna was right; things had changed. Acceptance was the next step. Doubt was a distraction.

But it was a very good one.

"How are we going to do . . . whatever we're going to do," Elsa began, "if all I can do is slow you down?"

"Is that what you think?" Anna's expression was soft, but concerned. Elsa hadn't seen it in a long time. "I mean, deep down, is that what you really think of yourself?"

"In more ways than one."

Was it pity Anna felt? Or some semblance of what they used to have. Elsa didn't know. All she knew were the feeling of Anna embracing her, warm breath along her neck, and a heartbeat pulsing against her own.

"You know I'm always proud of you, right?"

"You shouldn't be."

"Doesn't mean I won't ever be."

Elsa sighed, returning the embrace. "I'm not worth any of this. All of this. And it always feels like I'm going to fail."

"Well, fail or not, we're facing it together now." Anna pulled away to look Elsa dead in the eye. "We have to. We're not letting him hurt anyone else."

That much was true. But to some degree Elsa was doing it for herself. To prove that she couldn't be beaten down. Did that make her selfish? Irresponsible? A fool? She didn't know anymore. By now, she wasn't even sure that she cared.

And that might have been the most damning part.

"What if I hurt you again?"

There it was. The tiny falter in Anna's demeanour. Because Elsa knew that deep down Anna was still scared of her. For how Elsa had ruined her life. Over and over again.

The admission was wiped clean as quickly as it came. "You won't."

"You don't know that for sure. Not after what I've done."

Anna sighed, looking away. "I can't convince you that you aren't what you think you are, you know?"

"I don't think anyone could."

"And I'm still going to tell you that you aren't whatever you're thinking."

"Why?"

That look again. "Because I care."

Back to square one, Elsa thought.

"And I know you're going to say I shouldn't," Anna went on, before Elsa could get a word in sideways. "But I do. And you can't convince me otherwise either."

"Seems like we're at an impasse."

Anna smirked. "You once told me you liked how stubborn I was."

"I can still retract that statement."

"Nope. No take-backsies."

Their laughter echoed off the walls of the room, and Elsa felt the echo of something lone gone. Something joyful and wonderful. Just a flutter, but it was there.


Empyrean!

The haunting was softer now. Less pronounced. Not as bad as when the chip was first planted onto her, and not as bad when she was in immediate danger of Empyrean. At least, that was as best as she could tell.

But it was still there.

Elsa had never known why she experienced this. A very specific form of PTSD? Some primordial mind control that Empyrean had placed inside her brain from a young age? Bloody hallucinations? She had a list of things, but never bothered to think about them.

But as she was roused from her sleep that night, she decided it would be best to think about it. Not that there was anything else was she going to do with her spare time.

She left her bedroom in silence. Anna's room was just down the hallway, and Merida's was downstairs. No point in waking either of them up. No, this was something she needed to do alone.

The window was always a place she found herself drawn to. The promise of a life beyond the crisis she was facing. Out there, people continued about their business, their own worries and joys intermixed with each other's' activities. There was something romantic about that concept to Elsa, but seeing the city at night seemed to exacerbate the effect. It made her want. It made her melancholy.

But mostly it let her mind wander. Which was good when she needed to think. Less so when she needed to focus in the absence of emotion.

Elsa closed her eyes and searched her feelings. This was a state she was familiar with: a numbness, a void, interspersed with occasional bouts of self-loathing. Not that this was a particularly bad state right now; she'd been through much worse, much more often. But it wasn't exactly foreign to her either.

Occam's Razor would suggest that this state of mind would be the root of the issue.

Elsa had lived with the hate for a very long time. Even when her memories were fuzzy, she'd always known what she'd done, and what she had been used for. She always thought that made up who she was. And when Anna had come into her life, Elsa could see a glimpse of what she could be.

As usual, Empyrean would take that away from her.

Now, kneeling before the window and her fists placed upon her thighs, Elsa found herself in a different state. There was more than just a void. There was . . . peace.

Huh. That's new.

Elsa had always thought she'd find peace somewhere else. Or some other way. Not hiding out from persecution, or when she'd lost almost everything. But there was an undeniable part of her that was much less anxious and hateful than before. She was careful not to call it progress just yet. Maybe a mood swing, nothing more.

Though, when she focused on that peace, on how she'd gradually been improving her physical state, battle tactics and mental framing, on how Anna had told her how proud of her she was, the haunting began to fade. Blocked out. More difficult to gain a foothold over her mind.

She opened her eyes, feeling the sensation of the cool air on her skin, her braid brushing against her shoulder, her chest rising and falling with with each breath that she took, watching the soft lights of the city still bustling in the night. There was only the moment, for a brief second. Where everything was fine.

It was good.

About as good as things could get in her current circumstances, but good nonetheless. Elsa rose to her feet and returned to her room, intent on getting back to sleep.

If she'd bothered to look around, she might have noticed the single, pristine snowflake that now lay on the ground.