Anna doesn't come by the little coffee shop for three days. Elsa doesn't quite know how to feel about that. On the one hand, it was exciting. And it's not like Anna herself had been terribly rude. On the other hand, it had made Elsa feel something in her unbeating heart, which she's not so sure she likes, and something about that Hans fellow had her shaky and afraid. Whenever the door chimes, Elsa looks up quickly, and sucks in an unnecessary breath. Elsa doesn't know whether to be relieved, or disappointed when it turns out not to be the odd little redhead each time.
On the fourth day, Anna stepps timidly through the plate glass door. Elsa is having an off day. She has them occasionally. It's a side effect of being dead. Everything feels wrong, and she has trouble remembering who she is. Kristoff always helps her when she gets like this. She likes Kristoff. Kristoff is nice. Isn't she supposed to marry him one day? It's so hard to remember.
"Kristoff?" She turns to her boss.
"Yes?" Kristoff doesn't look up, so Elsa waits, like she's been taught. He sighs, signs a piece of paper, and turns to her. "Yes, Elsa sweety?"
"I'm…" Elsa frowns, as she forgets what she was trying to say. "I'm," she starts again.
"Take your time," Kristoff turns back to his paperwork. Elsa frowns, and goes back to the counter, because she dimly recalls that someone ought to be there at all times.
"Hi," Anna says brightly.
"What would you like to order, sir or ma'am," Elsa says. She smiles when she gets it right.
"Um?" Anna blinks a few times. "I'm sorry about before. I brought you something." She produces a bouquet of flowers. Small and scraggly, but Elsa doesn't mind.
"Before?" Elsa tries very hard to remember. Anna looks familiar. There's a name, at least. "Anna?" Elsa tries to make sure.
"That's right," Anna smiles, and waves the flowers insistently. "Uh, these are yours."
Elsa frowns, and studies the stems. Sometimes flowers have thorns, she remembers. Or maybe that's bees that have the thorns? It's important, Elsa knows. She doesn't heal fast, and something bad will happen if people notice. She doesn't see any thorns. Doesn't see any bees either, so she supposes it's ok. Elsa reaches across the counter, and takes the offered flowers.
Her sleeve pulls up when she does, shows a flash of too pale skin, and the ugly black numbers tattooed there. "Thank you," Elsa says automatically.
Anna stares at the number, even after it's covered again. "Danke," Elsa says, in case Anna didn't understand her.
"Um, you're welcome, I guess," Anna says. "I guess I should order?" Elsa studies the flowers. Why is she getting flowers? She can't remember.
"Are you ok?" Anna asks. She gives a concerned frown.
"Es tut mir leid," Elsa says slowly. Kristoff appears at her shoulder.
"Shhh," he says. "We can't understand you when you talk like that."
"Es tut mir leid," Elsa repeats.
"Is she alright?" Anna asks. She looks quickly between the two.
"She gets like this sometimes," Kristoff says. "I should've… what are you doing here? I thought I told you not to come back."
"Right," Anna scratches the back of her head. "I was sorta hoping that only applied to Hans. I brought flowers." Anna squints suspiciously. "Why are you making her work like this? You're not exploiting her, are you?" Anna starts to climb over the counter.
"I get like this sometimes," Elsa repeats helpfully. "Kristoff?"
"Yes Elsa?" Kristoff glares at Anna and motions for her to get down. He turns fully to face Elsa.
"I'm…" Elsa frowns, opens and closes her mouth a few times. "Are we getting married? Is that why I got flowers?"
"No Elsa," he says patiently. "That was someone else. He's been dead for a while now."
"Ok," Elsa agrees.
"Elsa," Kristoff bends to her level. "Can you take a tray, and gather up all the empty cups out there?" He gestures to the seating area. Elsa nods solemnly, so he continues. "Be careful not to drop any, ok?" Elsa nods again, and sets off. "Why are you here?" Kristoff turns to the little redhead. There's menace in his voice.
"I wanted to apologize," Anna says meekly. "I brought her flowers?"
"Why do you care?" He snaps.
"'Cuz," Anna shrugs. "She deserves an apology. Also, I just really really really want to talk to her. See, I'm in journalism school, and I need to write a thing, and I was hoping to talk to her, and she's really pretty, and I think she maybe needs a hug, and I'm sorry. Shutting up now."
"Hmpfh," Kristoff grumbles intelligibly.
"Why are you making her work today?" Anna demands suddenly. She's produced a pen and a small notebook from somewhere. "If she's not feeling well, you shouldn't make her work."
Kristoff holds up his hands in surrender. "I didn't know she was like this today," he says defensively. "I've been busy, doing paperwork, and…" he pauses for a moment. "How do you expect her to get home now? You really think it's safe to leave her on her own?"
Anna raises an eyebrow, and points at Kristoff. Points at Elsa. Points at the door. She jots down a few quick notes.
"You don't get to publish any of this," Kristoff says. He crosses his arms over his broad chest. "Fine. I'll walk her home. Someone's going to have to watch the shop though."
"I can watch the shop," Anna agrees. "I'm a kickass watcher. I'll make sure nothing gets stolen. And I can make coffee. I mean, I'll figure it out, how hard could it be… at least I can make a mean smoothie?"
"You're making me feel real confident," Kristoff grumbles. "Elsa honey?"
Elsa walks over slowly. She wears a frown of intense concentration, and bites her lip lightly. She transfers the tray to the counter with the same care that a child shows when told to only pet a small animal with two fingers. "I didn't drop any," she reports proudly.
"Good job," Kristoff nods encouragingly.
Kristoff is asleep in her big old armchair when Elsa wakes the next morning. She's sprawled atop the covers, still in her work clothes, as if someone had dropped her there, and given up.
Who am I, she asks herself. Elsa. Litch, barista… that's about it actually. Witch, maybe, though she hasn't cast anything in years. Where am I? That's easy; her creaky old bed in her shitty, rundown apartment in a too-energetic college town in northern Washington. When? Less easy. Twenty-twenty, good start. Late october? Early November? That sounds about right. Not an off day. She sighs in relief.
"Mpfh," Kristoff groans. "'Morning." He stretches. Elsa can feel his bones popping.
"I hate this," Elsa says. She looks down at her pale hands. "It's the fifth?" She asks. "Of November?"
"Yeah," Kristoff nods. "Hope you didn't mind. You came into work yesterday, and I had to get you home safe, then I didn't feel right leaving you alone when you were… I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds?"
"You're not," Elsa says. She stands, and stretches. She can hear her own joints popping, but can't feel them. "I'm sorry to be a burden."
"You're not," Kristoff says. He's met with a sceptical state. Clear eyes, like cut glass, not cloudy with death like he had expected when he first met her. Elsa glances around her small room. Undecorated and unadorned. She catches sight of the vase, half filled with sad, withered little flowers. She likes them. They seem familiar, like how she's come to think of herself.
"Where did these come from?" Elsa asks.
"Anna," Kristoff says. "I don't know if you remember her? She came in with her friends a few days back? Wanted to talk to you?"
"I remember," Elsa says. "It's not an off day. I remember everything, except when I remember nothing… That was nice of her?"
"Yeah," Kristoff nods. "I misjudged her. She's a good kid. Hey, you need the day off?"
"No," Elsa says quickly. "I'd like to work. Gives me something to do."
"Alright," Kristoff replies. "It's your choice. You know, you would have fewer off days if you would…"
"No," Elsa cuts him off. "I'm not going to give people more reasons to hate me. I'll be fine. I always have been." She straightens her shirt absently.
AN: well, here's chapter two. For some reason, the second chapter always gives me trouble. First one is super easy. All you have to do is write something interesting enough to make people want to read a second chapter, and set up the broad, overarching, plot. Easy. Anna wants to talk to Elsa. Don't need to know why, just need to know that she does. It'll be easy to turn that into a bigger arc. But the second chapter? You have to start fleshing out the world, and setting up side plots and smaller conflicts and blehhhhhh. I hate writing second chapters. Anyway, reviews/favorites/follows are appreciated.