You're no stranger to hospitals. In a way, they're almost comforting; the constant bustle of people and humming of machines. You're not afraid of hospitals, even though you have every right to absolutely hate them.
Hospitals are fine.
But, you've gotta admit you're definitely not a fan of being in a hospital alone.
You can't even say "at least Hans brought me here" because you know he only did it to stop you complaining. It wasn't your fault! It's just that your leg kept bleeding, and the sight of it had made you sick and you'd told him you were going to throw up if you didn't at least see a doctor.
You didn't throw up because he'd bundled you into his car, quick-smart, tossing an old shirt of his to put on over the lingerie and throwing you some of his old track-pants to put on. At least you'd managed to grab your coat.
You aren't cold, waiting in the ER, and it's not because Hans had made sure you had warm enough clothes. Because he didn't.
It's because you're still using the jacket Elsa had made for you for Norway. It's the warmest piece of clothing you own, and it never fails to remind you of the friend you'd thought you'd made.
You shouldn't still use it, but you can't quite stop. You try and tell yourself it's just because it's too nice a jacket.
But then you're at the hospital, signing in, and you don't have time to ponder your clothes because there are bigger things to worry about.
The triage nurse had said it would be about two hours wait. Hans... didn't want to spend his Christmas Eve in a hospital.
"But- how will I get home?"
Hans just looked at you, like you were a fucking moron. "The bus comes to the hospital, Anna," he'd said. And then he'd yawned, and left. You've been waiting for three hours already and wanted to cry the whole evening because this isn't how you wanted to spend your Christmas Eve, either!
Just as you think that, a tiny little thought – one you'd been avoiding for weeks – worms its way to the front of your mind.
Elsa wouldn't have left you here.
Suddenly, you're angry, and it's mostly directed at yourself. How can you even think about her in any kind of positive capacity because it's Elsa and hospitals? She's the reason you're so familiar with them!
But now you're remembering. Remembering waking up and not knowing what happened, and the nurse not telling you much, and then the doctor not telling you much either. And it just sort of kept being like that and you never asked.
Maybe Kristoff is right... about needing to look it up. Don't you deserve that much? Don't your parents?
Finally, you see a doctor. He has to glue the cut up and he doesn't want to ignore the bruise on your upper arm from where Hans had held you. You don't want to deal with that, don't want to make a deal out of it, so eventually the doctor lets you go. There isn't really anything he can do about it, anyway.
Finally, you manage to go home. At like, 7 in the morning because it just took that long to be seen, and to catch the three busses that it actually ended up taking to get home. What would have been a twenty minute car ride turned into a two-and-a-bit hour bus trip.
As soon as you get home, though, you throw off the ratty t-shirt he'd "loaned" you – no way was he getting that back after he ruined your nice shirt! – and cuddle up with Joan on your bed and just cry. It feels like you've cried more in the last two weeks than since just after the accident.
It's a sobering thought, but more than that, it's something else to latch onto. Fuck Hans. Why are you crying about it? You've spent so long feeling sorry for yourself – a complete waste of time, especially when you can actually do something about it.
So, wiping your face, you kiss Joan on her forehead and move her off your lap. Then you get back in your chair and move the short distance to the linen cupboard. There's a box, tucked away on the bottom, at the very back. You have to actually slide down to the floor in order to reach it. There are even a few cobwebs, long abandoned by now. The box is lighter than you remember.
It takes a bit of work, but eventually you're back in your chair, box perched precariously on your lap. The kitchen table isn't huge, but it'll be big enough for what you have planned.
And then the phone rings.
It's so unexpected you actually jump in your seat. It takes three calming breaths before you start moving towards your bedroom where your phone lays, charging. Then you spend an extra second frowning at the caller ID because... why is Sven calling you?
"Hello?"
"Anna! Hi! I hope this isn't a bad time?"
You shake your head, even though he can't see it. "No- no not at all. What's up?"
"I uh..." he pauses for a second, and you hold the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you begin making your way back towards the kitchen. "I know this is a bit strange, but I have a job opening at my clinic and– well, our receptionist is going on maternity leave, and I know that you've got experience. I was wondering if you wanted to work for me?"
You sit there, gaping because you actually... have no idea what your answer should be. "I—" You cut yourself off, and Sven gives an awkward little chuckle.
"You don't need to give me an answer now. I just wanted to put the offer out there. Have a think about it, okay?"
Closing your mouth, you give a nod he can't see before you find your voice. "Y-yeah, I'll... I'll let you know."
"Sweet. Thanks, Anna. I'll see you later."
"Bye..."
He hangs up, and you're left with a lot to think about.
God, so many things are happening all at once. The job and Hans and... the box.
It's like... it's like you decided to take a step and the universe is already rewarding you. Or, perhaps that's the wrong word. The universe is recognising your efforts.
At least now you don't have to go job-hunting yourself.
Shaking yourself out, you return to the kitchen table. The box is still sitting where you left it, unassuming in its simplicity.
Taking a breath and holding it, you open the box.
You're greeted with stacks and stacks of envelopes and folders. The very top one – a yellow A4 envelope – is sealed shut, with only your name on it. The handwriting is unfamiliar, and it really could have come from anyone.
They'd all told you to read it when you were ready, after the accident. You'd never been ready. Not until now.
So, swallowing hard, you open the envelope.
AN: Hans will make a few more appearances (because anna still has to dump him) but no more sex! yay! ;_;
