Elsa wasn't sure how long she had been here. She could barely recall how she got here. She could only remember screaming at the figure on the stretcher, beautiful red hair stained a dark mahogany, as they blurred past her into the operating room.

How long had it been?

It didn't matter.

She would guard this door until it opened.

She barely registered the uniforms that came and shone lights into her eyes, trying to touch her wounds, tug her up.

She wanted to be alone. She deserved to be alone, so she couldn't hurt anyone anymore.

She was sick of the pulling. So she shut her eyes and curled her knees to her chest, lost in the voices.

Some were yelling, screaming. Others were crying. Still others were painfully silent. But they all belonged to her. They were all her. They built walls around her. She couldn't hear anything through them. Just as well, she could lose herself in self-blame.

Your father was right. You're a failure.

She didn't even bother to apologize. It fixed nothing.

Now two people had almost died because of her. Her carelessness, her mistakes. Which part of her foolish brain decided to enter the bar? Which part thought it was okay to drink? Which part thought it wouldn't matter if she told the truth for once?

She was cold. Frigid. But she wasn't shivering, because she liked it. The cold, the wet, it numbed her so much that it hurt. It offered an alternative to feeling. The weight grounded her. It was what she deserved.

Because she was a coward. A sick, disgusting coward. She wasn't brave enough to confess the truth to Ariel when sober. And so this happened. Because she was a coward.

She wasn't worthy of warmth, of kindness, of love. The only two people who had given it to her unconditionally, she had awarded with suffering.

The cold burn distracted her from the smell of sterility that was so akin to that of six years ago, when she was at this same hospital wallowing in her self-loathing as she waited for—

Two people now. Two people, so important to her, she hurt. Almost killed. She was a monster.

It was suffocating. The blame. The fault. It was all hers. And she was suffocating. Drowning in it.

No complaints. It was justified.

How much longer before this would end? There was no way out.

It would have been better if she died.

Someone was trying to touch her again. She shrank back, pressing closer to the wall. A chill washed through her again. It felt good.

She wanted to get colder. Even colder, so all feeling was gone. Where was the rain?

Something soft wrapped around her. A towel?

She didn't deserve this. Please stop. She almost shrank away again, until she recognized the familiar touch.

Please, no.

Not her.

The hands were on her shoulders now.

She fought to keep from feeling. Conceal, don't feel. Feel the cold instead. Feel the pain instead. Don't think. Don't feel.

A familiar melody filled her ears, carried by an even more familiar voice.

Before she could help herself, muscle memory took over. She uttered something. Didn't know what. Didn't care. She tried to stop.

It wouldn't work. The bewitching aria was taking over her mind. The age-old words of the song were like arms, pulling her out of her frozen cage.

She noticed she was humming. She noticed she couldn't stop.

The floor was coming into focus. She realized she was on the floor, so close that she could make out the cracks in the cool linoleum.

The song was breaking her walls, the walls she worked so hard to put up. They were being broken so easily.

The heat surrounded her, melting her heart, and it attracted her upward. She was walking now. And then, sitting on a bed. It was still hard to focus.

The voices were quieter. Some still screaming, cacophonies of self-blame and self-hatred, resounding in the recesses of her skull.

There was a click of a door.

It's all my fault.

It wasn't until the room came into focus and she saw her sister staring at her in confusion and worry that she realized that she had just muttered the words echoing in her head aloud.

She averted her gaze quickly, afraid that if she held those piercing teal eyes any longer they would see every secret that she worked so hard to hide.

Warm hands tugged at her shirt, and she almost let them pull the wetness off, until a single thought stopped her blood cold.

Father.

She can't.

With strength that she didn't know she had, she abruptly knocked the hands away, and instinctively hugged herself, the thought of her father threatening to shatter her entire being once again.

She heard Anna's delicate voice clearly for the first time. "Elsa, please. You need to get out of those clothes. You'll get sick. And those cuts, they need to be treated. Please."

There was so much desperation. She wasn't worthy of this much attention and concern from anyone.

The sound of her own tone sounded strange, unfamiliar. It almost hurt to talk. How long had she been screaming? "I need the cold," she rasped.

"How do I help you, Elsa? Tell me," her sister begged.

The distress in Anna's voice pierced her heart like a sickle, it wasn't clean, it wasn't straight; it left tear marks, rip marks, grooves, scars, it wouldn't cut all the way through. "Don't," she choked out. "Don't help me." I don't deserve it.

Her sister only obstinately shook her head, loosening the beautiful ginger locks that were tied together, letting them settle on her shoulders. "I don't know how to do that."

"You can't help me." She still refused to meet those teal eyes.

"Then who can?"

Ariel. The first time she dared to let the name enter her thoughts, and it made her head spin, her thoughts jumbled, and the voices started screaming at her again.

As if the name was a prayer, it was answered in the form of the sound of the operation room doors opening. Elsa immediately moved, half-jumped, half-stumbled off the bed and staggered to the door of the examination room, furiously swinging it open, and darting out.

The sight of the unconscious redhead, bandaged and peaceful now, life tied to an IV drip, brought cool relief and burning shame at the same time. I did this to her.

She shot a panicked glance at the nearest nurse, who was equally alarmed after taking in her ragged appearance. "Her life isn't in immediate danger now, dear," the uniformed woman explained quickly, putting a hand on the frantic blonde's shoulder and withdrawing it when the girl flinched away. "She has a broken left humerus, fractured left tibia, dislodged left shoulder joint and a few shattered ribs, but thankfully the damage to her head was minimal, only a concussion, no skull fractures. She should wake up after we wean her off the anaesthesia. She's lost a lot of blood, though, so she will need to stay here for while."

Elsa nodded mechanically, unsure if she should be relieved that Ariel hadn't broken more bones, or penitence that she had broken so many.

"Oh, you're up!" Another nurse approached them, accompanied by a female doctor. "This is Dr. Anika Iversen, a psychiatrist. She's going to ask you a few questions."

"Hello, Elsa. Why don't we talk inside?" Dr. Iversen motioned toward the room that Anna was still in. Elsa didn't bother to ask how the doctor knew her name.

Elsa hadn't noticed the hurt in her sister's eyes until she suddenly felt Anna's gaze once again boring into hers. This time, she was able to return it with slightly more confidence that she could hide herself. She tried to smile, but it felt wrong. Some very vocal part of her was telling her that she didn't have the privilege to smile until she could see Ariel's smile again.

She took in Anna's appearance for the first time as well. Judging from her mud-splashed ankles, wet hair, and damp dress, her sister had rushed directly over from her prom venue. Another pang of contrition seized her as she remembered how violently she had shoved her sister away only a few minutes earlier.

"Should I stay? I'm her sister." Anna's voice was even, despite the concern and affliction that pooled in the depths of her cerulean orbits.

Dr. Iversen looked from Anna to Elsa, gauging the tension between the two, and finally decided, "Yes, I think you should. Please sit, Elsa. And you…"

"Anna."

Dr. Iversen smiled, "Anna, you can sit in this chair. I'm just going to ask her a few questions to test her mental state. She witnessed something very traumatic."

Elsa returned to her spot on the patient bed as the doctor examined her eyes again, "Pupils are normal now, that's a good start. Now, Elsa, do you know what day of the week it is?"

"Friday." Noting the time, "Saturday," she amended.

"You know where you are?"

"Hospital. Vancouver General."

"Your full name?"

"Elsa Arendelle."

"Very good. Now, Elsa, do you want to talk about what happened?"

She gasped as the memory returned to her and buried her face in her hands, distracted by a sudden loud throbbing in her head. "No."

She heard the doctor stand up. "I understand. I will contact you at a later date."

"There are several other witnesses," Elsa cried softly into her palms. "It doesn't have to be me."

"I'm not interested in the facts about what transpired physically, Elsa. Your friend may need more emotional help than you after a traumatic incident such as this. I want to help you both get through this."

Elsa could only nod, face still hidden, internally cursing herself for being so thoughtless as to what Ariel would need after she woke up.

The psychiatrist looked at Anna, and passed her a card. "If your sister needs any help, please don't hesitate to contact me." With that, she left the room, closing the door behind her, as a thick silence fell over the two girls.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Elsa whispered, head down.

"I know what you're thinking. I'm sorry I didn't notice it earlier, but seeing you run out like that made me think about how you must have looked when I had that accident, six years ago," Anna began slowly, focusing hard on the floor, and Elsa could see her sister imagining her own thirteen-year-old self rushing to the stretcher in the same fashion that she had just moments before. "And that's how I know you're blaming yourself right now," The younger girl continued, cautiously. "Even if I don't know the details of what happened," she hesitantly held out her arms, "it's not your fault. I believe that. Won't you?"

Just like that, the self-inflicted lacerations on Elsa's heart were temporarily mended. It suddenly didn't matter that Anna didn't know the exact details about the accident. It didn't matter that Elsa refused to think about it. It didn't matter that she could barely hear her own voice through the discord in her mind.

Anna had uttered the words that she wanted to hear. That she needed to hear. And for the moment, it didn't matter if she believed them.

Because Anna always believed in her. Ironically, her sister's unconditional faith in her should have brought a fresh wave of guilt. But she was so empty, so hollow, for a second she felt detached from her cursed self, free.

For the first time in forever, she let herself cry in her sister's arms, letting herself relish the sensation of her sister's soft body pressed against hers, kind arms shielding her from the unrelenting bombardment in her head, and an unfamiliar feeling seeped through her. Like she was home.

President Triton del Rey of Neptune Corp had flown in from Atlanta as soon as he heard about Ariel. As soon as he arrived, violent outbursts and bellows echoed throughout the halls of the stirring hospital. After viciously tearing out the throats of Ariel's bodyguards and the truck driver, he spent every second at his daughter's side.

Elsa's guilt multiplied exponentially when she saw the colossal, thunderous CEO kneeling beside Ariel's bed, gray hair slicked back and head down, kissing the pale hand clutched between his enormous fingers. Ariel's left leg and arm were wrapped in thick casts, the rest of her body in bandages, broken, under the covers of the bed.

For a second, Elsa was glad that she changed (after vehemently insisting to her sister that she was fine by herself), because despite her sinking feelings of apprehension, looking presentable was showing respect to the revered man.

She was reluctant to approach him at first, not knowing how much Ariel had told him about her, but responsibility was a magnet, pulling her to offer him sympathy and condolences.

And so she gathered the courage to enter and bring a chair for him from across the room. She felt stigma strike again when his pained aquamarine eyes met hers, and she fought the immediate urge to look away in shame.

"You must be Elsa," He whispered in a deep baritone, eyes softening when he took in her exhausted appearance. "She's told me a lot about you. She's never had a friend who would stick around for too long, you know. I never have time for her, and in my effort to protect her, I also ended up driving all of her friends away as well. I'm grateful she found you."

Elsa was biting back tears. She was expecting furious retribution, the same vicious treatment he had given to the guards and the truck driver. Not this. Not this… grieving man who was… thanking her, with a heart almost as broken as her own. This was much worse than ardent retaliation. This… lack of blame where it was sorely due. If only physical pain could fully compensate for the emotional turmoil inside, she would have gladly paid someone to hit her with her father's belt instead. No, this was worse. She was hurting everyone around her.

She was about to blurt out her part in Ariel's accident.

A sweet, melodic voice stopped her. "Daddy? Where am I?"

Triton's eyes lit up immediately as he turned his attention back to his stirring daughter. "Hey, baby girl, how are you feeling? You're in the hospital. Don't move; you were in an accident."

"I'm kinda sore. And drowsy. And floaty," Ariel slurred, sleep thickening her voice.

"That would be the painkillers doing their job." He chuckled, a low, resounding bass. "Do you want anything? Tell me," the man gently caressed his daughter's soft red hair, his eyes harbouring an affection that Elsa would not have expected from his hardened exterior.

Surprisingly, she found herself feeling a jolt of envy as she watched their interaction; she wondered if her own father would have been capable of such mildness toward her if she were the one in that bed. Her father had only ever shown genuine affection to Anna; all the kindness that he showered Elsa with when they had an audience had been tainted with falseness and coercion.

"No, Daddy, I'm okay," She could hear the smile in Ariel's melodic tone.

The bearded man gave her an apologetic grin, his eyes crinkling. "Then I have to go," he started to stand up.

"Wait! Please, can't you stay?"

The yearning Elsa heard reminded her of the crestfallen expression of little Anna, when their mother declined any and every request made of her by the redhead in her early years. Her heart involuntarily went out to Ariel, understanding the innate desire for parental attention, something that none of them had ever had enough of in their childhood.

Triton only patted his daughter's head gently in response. "You already have good company. I have a bit of business to take care of. I'll be back." With that, he donned his hat, waved to Elsa, and exited the room.

Elsa realized that Ariel was probably noticing her presence in the room for the first time. She debated darting out of the room, because a part of her knew that Ariel would be better off without her. But another piece of her shoved the memory of President del Rey's exposition to the forefront of her mind. If she didn't stay, whom did Ariel have left?

Slowly, she approached the vacant seat left by Triton, and searched the red-haired girl's eyes for any indication of her current mood. They were frighteningly empty, painfully disparate from the habitual humour and cheer Elsa had taken for granted.

After a long silence, she whispered, "How are you?"

"You don't need to hide it, Elsa. I know you really want to know if I remember what you said to me," Ariel stared back at her, hostility bleeding into her weary, half-lidded eyes.

"You remember," Elsa echoed, shocked.

"If I didn't, would you have pretended it didn't happen?"

Elsa didn't have an answer. Under these circumstances, if Ariel hadn't remembered her distressing revelation at the bar, she probably would have pretended it hadn't occurred and forced herself to continue to pursue their relationship out of guilt.

"I considered telling you that I remembered nothing. I wish I remembered nothing." The bedridden girl sighed, closing her eyes. "But what good would that do if your feelings didn't change? It would only make me feel more pathetic, shackling you to me with guilt."

"Ariel—"

"Don't, Elsa. Don't tell me you're sorry. That's not what I want to hear from you."

"I understand if you hate me," Elsa choked. Again, she was expecting a violent outburst, for Ariel to accuse her of manipulation, to blame her for her injuries, to chase her out of the room and demand to never see her again. Maybe the anesthetics were softening her reaction.

"If I hated you, this would be so much easier," Her friend rasped.

Oh, God was not letting her off the hook today. Every reaction she received today was more emotionally jarring than the last, and she fervently wished that they had all just turned their backs on her instead. She definitely deserved that more. First, there was Anna's unconditional trust and kindness toward her. Second, Triton's gratitude for her friendship with Ariel. And now, Ariel's lack of ire despite how heartbroken she must have been.

The suffering these reactions incited on her part was a thousand times worse than if they had violently castigated her. She wasn't sure which she deserved.

She moved her hand gradually toward Ariel's, giving the girl ample time to retract it. To her surprise, the other girl's fingers tightened weakly around hers. "How do I help you?" She begged, echoing Anna's words several hours ago.

There was a long pause. "Tell me who it is," Ariel demanded, with more vigor than Elsa thought possible.

She deliberated. Ariel would no doubt be disgusted with her. But, at this moment, even revulsion was better than heartbreak, right? Ariel might feel better, if her feelings of love were replaced by disgust and revolt, and wanted nothing more to do with her.

She bit her lip, a deep-seated instinct keeping her from divulging her deepest, darkest secret.

"I could guess anyway. God, I'm such an idiot," the redhead finally breathed, after labouriously studying her contemplation. "The way you look at her. I can't say I wasn't expecting it. I only wish you had the courage to tell me when we were sober."

Elsa knotted her free hand in the hem of her shirt. "Me too," She admitted. "Was it that obvious?"

That earned her a cold chuckle. "Who else could it be?"

"You're not sickened? You don't think it's wrong?" She prompted incredulously.

"I'm still stupidly in love with you. That means I still blindly accept whatever you do as right. Also, I'm high as a kite at the moment. You could be snorting crystal meth and I wouldn't have a problem."

Elsa shifted uncomfortably, the emptiness in her stomach created by hunger slowly turning into a gnawing ache, as if something was carving out her insides, fueled by the realization of how starkly similar Ariel was to Anna, in their sharp sense of humour and their unprecedented compassion.

"At least this means I lost to someone I'm willing to back down against." Another humourless chuckle.

"You're so strong," Elsa murmured. She realized the morphine, in addition to numbing, was probably also promoting the candor.

Ariel's gaze turned scornful. "Drugs," She reminded her, as if reading her mind, "Plus some part of me just doesn't want you to see me cry because it knows it'll make you feel worse."

"Do—Do you want me to leave?" The brutal honesty was not helping to stem the ever-growing flow of guilt.

To her surprise, her friend shook her head slowly. "It really sucks, you know. You're my only real friend. But at the same time just looking at you kills me a little inside."

Elsa swallowed thickly.

Another silence. "I guess this is how you feel every time you look at her."

She didn't respond.

"I assume she doesn't know."

Elsa shook her head, "she can't."

"Why the hell not?"

"You might not see what's wrong with it, but I do, and it's revolting. It's sick."

Ariel sighed. "I cannot believe I'm doing this right now." She tugged a little on Elsa's hand. "If you love her, how could that be wrong?"

"Why—why are you okay with this?"

The redhead's lips curled into a slight smile. "I'm not in my right mind, obviously."

"I'd much rather conduct this conversation with you in your right mind," Elsa smiled tightly at her. The first real one she'd given Ariel in weeks. She upped the dose of morphine on the machine. "Then you'd realize how wrong this is. And then maybe you'd actually be angry with me like I deserve."

"Who says I'm not angry? You and your misplaced sense of self-righteousness…" Ariel murmured, already unable to keep her eyes open.

Anna tapped her foot impatiently as she waited in the checkout line of the crowded cafeteria. Why were there so many people visiting this early in the morning? Rapunzel was rubbing her eyes beside her, and together they were trying very hard to ignore the attention that their formal attire wrought. She uncomfortably shifted her weight onto her other leg.

Before she could say anything, her phone went, buzzing in her clutch. The caller ID told her that it was Kristoff. She made an exasperated noise as she balanced her tray with one hand, and answered, "Hey," as evenly as she could.

"Hey, Anna," breathed a hushed voice on the other end. "I… uh... just wanted to see what's up. Is Elsa okay?"

It was Anna's turn to feel remorseful. Recalling the manner she had left him yesterday, bewildered and disappointed, she replied, tone apologetic. "Yeah, she's fine. Thanks for asking. Sorry about, um, yesterday."

"Oh. Okay. Glad she's okay. Um…"

There was a long silence.

"Do you wanna break up?"