"How're you feeling ma'am?" One of the officers sits carefully on the corner of her bed. His voice is startlingly deep. The other stays standing. He looks vaguely familiar to Elsa, but she can't quite place him.
"Bored," she grumbles. "They say my shoulder is still shattered."
"I'm… sorry to hear that miss Elsa." The sitting officer purses his lips in thought. "My name is captain Phoebus. I'm chief of police around here. Can I call you Elsa?"
"No," Elsa frowns suspiciously.
"Elsa play nice," Anna admonishes.
"They shot me!" Elsa leans forward and points. A machine beeps. The nurse's voice can be faintly heard from the other room, telling her to lie still. Elsa pouts. "I think I'm entitled to a little bit of grumpiness."
"Oh," Anna runs her hand bashfully through her coppery bangs. "Right. What do you choad lickers want with my Elsa anyway?"
A vexed narrowing of the eyes, tightening of the lips, and then the police captain's face is perfectly composed again. "We wanted to offer an official apology on behalf of…"
Anna screws up her face and takes a deep breath. Captain Phoebus pauses comically, mid sentence. "Cum-guzzling poop-sniffing sidewalk-licking assholes." Anna declares loudly. "Trigger-happy…"
"Miss!" The other officer growls. He's short and stocky, but there's a strength in him. Not unlike a cinderblock wall. "You listen here you little…" his captain puts a hand on his shoulder. He sputters worslessly for a moment. "Tryin' 'na 'pollogize. An' everyone shits on the cops an' you…"
"Yao!" Captain Phoebus snaps. Then, more patiently, "Miss, please accept my deepest apologies. Both for the unfortunate overzealousness of one of my officers at the university, and for Yao being an uncultured swine. The mistake at the university was unacceptable, and the officer responsible has been placed on administrative leave."
Elsa scowls.
"We will of course, pay for all of your medical bills," Phoebus smiles winningly. "Is there anything else we can do to make it up to you?"
"I…" For a moment, the set of the litch's face seems to show anger and frustration and a dozen pent up emotions from four times as many years, but Elsa deflates before she can say anything else. It might be the badges on their chests, it might be the authority they represent- authority that reminds Elsa all too strongly of the men that shipped her off to Dachau- it's hard to tell quite what's going on behind Elsa's guarded sapphire eyes. "It's fine," she says instead, voice small. "I just want to be left alone."
"No," Anna stands abruptly. Both officers flinch. "It's not fine! Your officer shot her! Maybe Yao is pretty chill. He at least wasn't an ass during Elsa's off day a while back," so that's where Elsa recognizes him from, "but you people don't get off with a 'we're sorry' and some medical bills!"
"It's fine, Anna," Elsa sounds almost tired. She looks down, let's her long silvery hair block off the world like some sort of protective curtain.
"You are a very angry little woman," Yao grins broadly towards Anna. "I like ya'. Seems like a little dead girl like her needs someone like you."
"Yao, shut up," the captain snaps, looks at the ceiling for a long moment.
"Yes I'm angry," Anna doesn't sit. "You. People. Fucking. Shot. My. Girlfriend. I'm writing a really awesome article about police brutality towards the dead you know. I'm a journalism major."
"Now is… not a good time for something like that to get published," Captain Phoebus says carefully. "I'm not sure Elsa wants the kind of attention that would bring. That isn't a threat, mind you. There's some very discriminatory legislation coming through these days. By and large, we figure it doesn't necessarily need to be enforced. Banning magic that we don't understand just because it's a little cosmetically alarming? Arresting litches for failing to pay taxes when legally they didn't exist? That's off the record by the way, publish it and I'll deny it. Point is, we here on the street level mostly do our best to protect and serve. The couple of my officers that aren't so open minded, I try to give patrols in parts of the city that don't have litches. We want to leave you alone. Make a big enough stink though, and maybe someone higher up decides we need to save face by discrediting our little miss Elsa here- I'm sorry, your last name isn't on file. I know you said I couldn't call you Elsa."
"It's fine," Elsa sighs again.
"So that's why you're here," Anna yells. "You…"
"Ma'am," The captain cuts in, and directs a warning glance at Yao. "Please. I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place here."
"A rock, being the law, and a hard place being goddamned human decency," Yao growls. "Er, people decency? Human count litches?"
"Just so," Captain Phoebus allows. "We can- quietly- offer reparations. I can maybe get you a written apology if you want, but people are getting nasty. You understand?"
"I understand," Elsa nods. He glares at Anna until she nods sheepishly.
"Right," the police chief sighs gratefully. "So, you'll want to talk to your lawyer of course, but provided you're willing to settle out of court and not make too big a deal of it, I can probably get the DA to shell out around five hundred thousand. Our lawyers will nail down the brass tacks later. Is there anything else we can help you with?"
"Half a million dollars?" Elsa says.
"Half a million dollars?" Anna squeaks.
"So basically, you want to throw money at me so I'm quiet," Elsa says.
"Yep," Yao agrees.
"I was going to use less objectionable language," Captain Phoebus sighs, "but essentially, yes."
"All right," Elsa nods slowly. "I can do quiet. I don't like being the center of attention anyway. Can you get me out of this place too, or is that asking too much?"
"Mention that you are a mentally sound adult wishing to leave," Captain Phoebus stands. "Maybe also mention kidnapping charges. See how fast they get you out of here."
"I'm legally an adult?" Elsa sits forward abruptly. The machine complains.
"I… assume so," the police chief frowns. "How old are you, exactly? I was told you… remember Nazi Germany?"
"I was seventeen in nineteen-forty-four," Elsa replies. "That's when I became a litch, and I haven't changed physically since then?"
"I," Phoebus chokes.
"You're ninety-three?" Anna yells. "Holy tit-balls!"
"..." Elsa says eloquently.
"..." Phoebus agrees sagely. "I think you are probably legally an adult," he says finally.
"Oh," Elsa says. "Good. Um, that's fine then I guess."
"Well," Phoebus holds out his hand. Elsa doesn't take it, so he wipes it awkwardly on his pant leg and turns to go. "That's that then. Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope you don't have to see me again." He leaves when it becomes clear the two women don't plan to reply.
"Well they were pretty disarming," Anna says once the door closes. "I guess they're probably ok. And half a million?"
"Notice how they failed to mention money until you were threatening to publish something," Elsa points out dispassionately.
"Elsa!" Anna yells cheerfully as she flounces into Kristoff's little coffee shop. "Guess what guess what guess what?"
Elsa looks slowly up from her drawing. Charcoal smudges her pale fingers like so much soot. "Germany has announced that they are tearing down Dachau," she says slowly.
"I…" Anna frowns. "Well yeah. How'd you guess?" Elsa points up at the television- now off and quiet. "Oh," Anna wilts somewhat. "How do you feel?"
"I don't," Elsa shrugs. The bandages are bulky, but less restrictive than the casts were.
"I meant about Dachau," Anna sits next to her and places her arm around Elsa's shoulders- the lightest ghosting of a touch to avoid jostling Elsa's still-healing bones. "It's good that you aren't in pain though."
"I'm…" Elsa worries at her lip. "I don't know. Things ought not be forgotten, no matter how terrible. Perhaps especially if they're terrible. At the same time though… I really really hate that place."
"Hmm," Anna agrees wordlessly and leans her head against Elsa's, still careful of the shoulder. "Whatcha drawing?" It looks like a collection of long buildings, tall towers, high barbed fences. Everything is twisted though. Terrible and difficult to look at. Wrought by an artist of lesser skill it might look like a mistake, but from Elsa it's obviously intentional and deeply uncomfortable. Anna peers closer and all of the twisted, weathered planks are made of tiny screaming faces. The loops of barbed wire seem branching and flickering like metal flames. Anna gasps softly.
"I'm drawing Dachau," Elsa says quietly. "As I remember it, that is. As much as it hurt, it shouldn't be forgotten."
"I can't…" Anna chokes. "Jesus. That's really well done, but… Jesus… are you finished?"
"Near enough that I don't think I need to keep going," Elsa shrugs.
"Good," Anna says. A long moment passes as Elsa seals the charcoal so it won't smudge and puts away the drawing. "So," Anna grins shakily. "I got you something." Elsa tilts her head wordlessly and Anna goes on. "So, the hot uber-smoothie wasn't a hit. You were trying to be polite about it, but don't worry I'm not going to try that again. Naw, this is like a hundred and ten percent more awesomer." She takes out a small knit sack from her satchel. "There's this undead store in Portland that I went to- most of what they had looked like, why? Like shit you don't need, you know? Like there were calcium shakes. Why? It's not like you eat or drink anything? I'm rambling, aren't I? Anyway. Batchow! Hand warmers! They're like.. mitten things? With like electric heaters in them? I thought… since you like warm things? To warm your hands? Like coffee? That's part of why you like coffee, right? And I mean, the hand warmers could cover your tattoo? I mean, if you want? I can take it back. Sorry."
"That sounds great," Elsa smiles, and it seems like a honest, grateful smile. "That's really… thank you."
Anna smiles and passes over the bag. The litch dons the mittens and delivers a quick kiss to the crown of Anna's head. Anna doesn't move for a few long seconds, not even to breathe. "I'm glad you like," she squeaks. "Um. It's uhhh. It's Christmas soon. And I." Anna takes a deep breath to collect herself. "I always go to my parents house for Christmas every year and would you like to come and it's fine if you don't and also Marshmallow will be there and it will be great and you should come."
"I thought humans needed to breathe," Elsa mutters and flexes her mittened fingers. "I'd love to go but I have an obligation with Kristoff's store. Christmas is always our busiest season."
"Shot people don't work in my store until they're all healed," Kristoff calls from the other room.
"I'm healed enough," Elsa pouts. Anna grins expectantly. "Alright," Elsa says after a beat. "I'll go to your Christmas thing with you. When is it?"
"A few days," Anna's smile threatens to bisect her head. "I'll get you the details next time I find my phone. I… wait, can't you heal yourself with magic?"
"Not legally," Elsa sighs. "Not anymore. I probably wouldn't anyway though. Healing takes a lot of power and that power has to come from somewhere. It's just a shoulder and a couple of ribs. I'll live. I always do." She sounds just a little bit bitter.
"Oh," Anna winces. Anything to change the topic- "so, how are you going to spend your half a million?"
"I… was planning to remodel Kristoff's shop," Elsa says slowly. "Assuming he's ok with it. I mean, we probably shouldn't be watching TV on the serving floor? It makes it look like we don't care? And the floor? If we had actual tile instead of peeling linoleum? And I don't think fireplaces are too expensive?"
"Kristoff does mind," Kristoff calls from the other room, and emerges. He glances at the two women, hesitates. "You two are adorable," he says. Anna gives a broad grin and a thumbs up. Elsa hides behind her hair. "I do mind, actually. Elsa, that's your money. I can't let you throw it at my problem. There's no guarantee that it would fix anything. That's a terrible investment. Put it in stocks or something. You'll do better."
Elsa shakes her head firmly, but the determination she means to convey is undermined somewhat by the way she still lets her hair hide her from the world. "Kristoff," she says, voice small. Anna gives her uninjured shoulder a light squeeze and Elsa continues. "This place is the closest thing to a home I've got left. I want to help. And anyway, if I invest it, it'll be gone soon. I know how these things work. After the arrests for trumped-up charges there will be roundups, people like me forced into certain poor sections of the city, then the confiscations. If I have a giant pile of money laying around invested or something, it will just get taken."
"I'm sure it won't get to that point," Anna says reassuringly. "The government can't just steal from its citizens like that."
"That's what we thought," Elsa says quietly but both humans can hear her clearly. "My father was a banker. We weren't poor. We had investments and savings. Had a nice house and a car- not everyone had a car back then. That was important."
"I…" Anna gives a concerned frown. "Well it won't get to that point here," she says firmly. Elsa shrugs.
"Elsa," Kristoff says gently and joins the two women at their table. "That's still your money. You could use it to leave if… we don't want you to leave, but you could. That's plenty to buy a house somewhere, maybe in Germany? I hear they're kinder to the undead than we are. Set yourself up for a good while?"
"No," Elsa says. "I couldn't leave Anna, and I couldn't ask her to leave her whole life behind for me." Anna would mention that she can publish her articles from any continent, but Elsa continues too quickly for her to get a word in edgewise. "You're here, your shop is here, I don't want to leave. This is my home, and I'm going to save it. I'll spend my money how I want."
"I can't let you throw money at someone else's shop," Kristoff replies. "So if you insist, I suppose this can't be my shop any more. Or not only my shop, at least. What do you say? Partners?"
Elsa hesitates for a long minute. She looks up through her hair. Her expression is unreadable. "Sure," she says slowly. "Partners. But… I'm still worried about confiscations. They can take property just as easy as money."
"Then it can stay under my name," Kristoff shrugs unconcerned. "I'll pay you half the profits on top of your normal wage of course, and if it ever looks like I'm trying to screw you out of your share, you can set my soul on fire or something. Or Anna will break my kneecaps with a baseball bat. Or Pabbie will shoot me. Deal?"
"Deal," Elsa allows a small hopeful smile to escape.
"Only, we'll have to rename it," Kristoff muses. "Kristoff's Coffee just doesn't work if it's only half mine. And half a million dollars goes a lot farther than a fireplace and a few tiles."
"We…" Elsa hesitates. She remembers Marshmallow's words on the topic. Remembers also her concerns. Screw it. "We're going to need something to set us apart from all the competition," she says, determined. Each word is deliberate and hard to say. Like a heavy hammer blow on a bent nail. "I'm a litch. That's unusual. We can use that to get people in the door."
"Yes," Kristoff beams. "I like it. We can call it 'Corpse Cafe,' really go whole hog. Decorate accordingly. Sandstone and stuff. Egypt theme, like the original litches."
"Elsa," Anna holds her frail little litch close. "Are you sure you're ok with that?"
"I'm sure," Elsa staples on a brave face. "Corpse Cafe. It's grotesque, but it definitely gets people's attention."
Kristoff beams. "This is going to be great," he promises. "We can have bronze scarabs to decorate, maybe make some fake mummies."
"Maybe make some real mummies," Elsa dips her head self consciously. "Make them eat Hans if he ever shows his stupid face here again."
"Tabling that…" Kristoff grimaces. "Hey Anna, you ever hear how Elsa and I met?"
"No?" Anna leans forward excitedly.
AN: this is sorta-almost-maybe the conclusion of the first arc, but don't worry there will be more. There are way too many questions left unanswered to just end it here. More, the end of a season of a tv show than the end of the tv show entire. There will be a flashback chapter because people have wondered previously how Kristoff and Elsa met, and flashback chapters have been met well thus far, then we will continue with your regularly scheduled broadcast. "Regularly" here meaning sporadically updated and occasionally languishing on a cliffhanger. Ahem. As always, a thousand thanks to everyone who reviewed! I really really love every one of them, and I do read them all, even if life has been super hectic and I've sort of dropped the ball on replying to them recently...
Also, public service announcement: if you find yourself riding in an ambulance for whatever reason, please do not grope the EMT/Paramedic. I can assure you, it is not welcome, and it has to go in the attending physician's run report. It's not fun to have it happen, it's not fun to try to figure out how to write it diplomatically, just maybe don't do it? Happens way too often…