A/N: You people are awesome.
"Elsa? Elsa!" Panic erupted in Anna's heart as the strength died from Elsa's hand and the blonde's head lolled to one side. Her hand grasped Elsa's waist in an effort to support Elsa's limp body, only to be met with an ominous warm wetness. She gasped, and pulled back to see her hand covered in blood.
Alistair was at her side instantly. "The adrenaline is wearing off, and she's going to be in a lot more pain now. Put her down," he urged, and he helped Anna slowly lower Elsa's frame to the ground, resting her head in Anna's lap. Alistair then worked to inspect the unconscious girl's wounds, palpating her sides and legs, muttering, "cracked ribs, broken glass, fractured tibia," to himself. He caught Anna's frightened glance, and tried to smile reassuringly, "Sorry, Ms. Anna."
Anna shook her head, and focused on Elsa's peaceful sleeping countenance instead, now blemished by a number of cuts and bruises, each one plucking ruthlessly at Anna's heartstrings as she touched them with her eyes. "Why, Alistair?" she whispered, voice thick with sorrow, "Why did you let her come in alone?"
She knew the answer before he even replied her. "It was the only way," he replied, a lame euphemism for she got hurt so you wouldn't have to. He noted her averted gaze and added, "You know she hates it when you shed tears for her." He gingerly raised Elsa's head to stem the blood flowing forth from a gash on the backside of her head.
And she knew he wasn't only referring to the tears she was shedding now, but also the wailing that would ensue whenever Elsa was injured in their childhood.
No one understood why Anna would start crying whenever Elsa was injured, and when they took her to see a pediatric psychiatrist, the doctor had come up with the answer in the form of sympathy pain. The definition was, when someone close cried, one mimicked the action to share the pain.
The big loophole in the doctor's explanation, though, was that Elsa never cried from physical pain in front of Anna. He was wrong. What Anna felt wasn't sympathy pain. She cried for Elsa because every time Elsa was wounded in front of her, Elsa didn't cry. Even when they were younger, when Elsa couldn't hide how much it hurt, when the pain was plain in her eyes, Elsa didn't cry in front of Anna. So Anna cried for her instead. She cried because it was a different pain. It was as if she saw the tears locked behind Elsa's eyes, tears that were begging to be released, but were vehemently prevented from surfacing. Elsa held everything in. She always did. At least she tried.
And when Elsa was injured, it hurt. It really, really hurt. Not only due to how much the wounds looked like they hurt, but because Anna knew Elsa would always hold it in; she would never let it show. And Elsa never accepted comfort from anyone. Elsa always suffered alone. That fact gnawed at Anna's insides and caused tears to spring to her eyes.
No one truly understood why Anna cried when Elsa was hurt. Not even Elsa. Anna was crying because Elsa wouldn't.
And Elsa had suffered so stoically through Hans' assault; Anna revered, for a moment, at how her sister's delicate frame had managed to endure through all the abuse it had taken. It then terrified her how Elsa seemed so accustomed to suffering silently; no one should ever have to do that.
The last nail in the coffin was that Elsa had done this for her; Elsa had drawn the full brunt of Hans' wrath so that he wouldn't hurt her. How did Elsa expect her to respond to that? How would Anna ever be able to live with herself? Didn't Elsa know how much she meant to Anna? How did she expect Anna to live with this?
Why was Elsa so damn self-sacrificing?
I'm okay, Elsa had said.
How the hell was she okay? Anna was pretty sure that if their situations were reversed, Elsa would not have hesitated to bite her head off had Anna volunteered to be the scapegoat.
Elsa, you hypocrite.
Just then, Alistair peeled off Elsa's jacket and hoodie, and they both hissed at the sight of the jagged shards of glass stabbing through the wet crimson fabric of the blonde's t-shirt, just below her waist. "Wait here," the gruff man ordered, disappearing out the front entrance of the lodge, returning a couple seconds later with a large backpack in his arms. He set it down beside them, and dug through for medical supplies, pulling out gauze, peroxide, and a suture set. "Hold her arms."
He pulled up her t-shirt slightly to expose the lacerations and worked on one wound at a time. Anna squeezed her eyes shut as she heard an ugly squishing sound before the clinking of glass hitting wood. Elsa let out a low groan, despite being unconscious. Alistair grimaced, and looked apologetically at Anna. "She's going to like this even less," he warned her, and tentatively pressed a wad of gauze soaked in peroxide to the now-bleeding wound.
There was an anguished cry as the pain jolted Elsa awake. There was a thin layer of sweat on her forehead now, and her eyes were unfocused, clouded with agony. Elsa's inability to hold in her protest spoke volumes to Anna about the degree of pain she was in.
"Don't you have painkillers?" Anna pleaded with Alistair, Elsa's pain rendering her absolutely distraught.
He shook his head, "Ibuprofen's the best we've got, and it's not going to help at all. We couldn't get morphine or vicodin in the short time we had to prepare."
"Give me… something… to bite on," Elsa managed, effort raw in her voice. Alistair complied with a rolled-up hand towel, placed it between her jaws, and she nodded, closing her eyes.
There was a series of muffled groans as Alistair carefully sutured the large open gash on her side that the shard had left behind, and Anna desperately begged him, "What can I do to help her?" She felt a hand grasp hers, and looked down to see Elsa interlacing their fingers, despite eyes squeezed shut and sweat beading on her forehead.
Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me? You're in so much pain… and you're still trying to make me feel better?
Alistair nodded at their hands, "Talk to her," he suggested gently.
Anna was questioning exactly how that would help when another muffled groan bit at her heart and spurred her to frantic action. "U-uh, hey, Elsa, remember that one time that I, um, ate all the cookies at Christmas? And then Gerda almost lost it because those cookies were for the party on the next day?" She tried not to avert her gaze; the pain that was raw in Elsa's eyes was projecting a crushing pressure in her chest.
Elsa's lips curved weakly.
"W-well, you don't know this, but I actually only ate all the white chocolate ones, because I know you liked the chocolate chip ones. O-oh! And then I got hungry and gobbled up all of the chocolate cake, and you wouldn't believe it but somehow it fit in my stomach. And then Gerda really lost her marbles," Anna admitted, trying to sound as animated as she could, and internally cringed as she heard another clink of glass dropping onto wood. "But then I got a huge stomachache later and Gerda laughed at me and said it served me right for eating like an obese panda."
Elsa squeezed her eyes shut again, eyebrows knitting together, as Alistair pressed another peroxide-soaked bandage to her side, preparing the suture set, and Anna quickly continued, "Stay still, and I'll give you a lollipop when we're done, okay?" The familiar words brought with them the comforting reminiscence of that time in the nurse's office almost three years ago. "Here, let me tell you about the time I dumped baking soda and vinegar into the laundry machine just before the maids were going to wash our clothes—we just learned how to make a volcano in science class, you know? So I thought it would be cool to pour vinegar in the water and replace the detergent powder with baking soda—you should have seen their faces when the stuff came bubbling out! Gerda knew it was me, of course; I don't know how she always knows, but she knows like it's written all over my face or something—"
Elsa opened her eyes halfway, affection and amusement pooling in those cobalt depths, the warmth of the gaze sending a wave of comfort over Anna. She never thought her rambling would have ever been of any use to anyone, but the fact that Elsa was staring up at her with tenderness warm enough to melt chocolate ameliorated her previous feelings of uselessness and inadequacy.
"—I'm not that obvious, am I? So anyway, she made me clean it all up after and I couldn't get the vinegar smell out of my hands for years. I swear, Gerda never let me near the laundry room after that, as if she was afraid I'd keep pulling the same prank again. She should've known me better; I never pull the same thing twice. So the next time was when she was trying to bake a cake, I found out it wasn't going to be a chocolate cake, but every cake should be a chocolate cake, right, so I dumped in cocoa powder and chocolate milk when she wasn't looking and seriously, it's like she's psychic or something, but she hunted me down right after and made me eat some of the batter. I don't know if you know what sugary chiffon cake mix tastes like with cocoa powder and chocolate milk in it, but it was like just sugar coating my tongue and I couldn't get the taste off for at least five hours."
Alistair put down the bottle of peroxide and smiled, "The worst is over," he told them, and Anna breathed a sigh of relief. He then swiftly treated the smaller cuts and fixed a makeshift splint for Elsa's broken leg, then proceeding to pull out his phone to call for help.
"Anna," Elsa spat out the towel, giving Anna's hand a squeeze, "There are… clothes for you… in the bag. You're… freezing."
Anna hadn't even noticed the cold nipping at her bare shoulders and arms until Elsa had mentioned it. Despite the crackling of the heated fire only a few feet away from them, her hands and feet were almost numb with cold, and her joints were aching with the chill. Her discomfort had been extremely insignificant, however, compared to the excruciating injuries Elsa had sustained. How in the world did Elsa still have the energy to worry about her?
Anna stared at Elsa. "Why are you still thinking about me?"
An odd smile crept across Elsa's features, its smugness out of place amidst the bruises and blood, as if she were enjoying a joke with herself. "What else… am I supposed… to think… about?"
"Yourself!" Anna sputtered, and grimaced when Elsa gripped her other hand, the one Hans had stepped on.
Elsa released her immediately, "What… did… he… do?" Anna marveled, for a moment, at how Elsa had managed to etch rage into her voice, despite its volume being barely above a whisper.
God, beaten to a pulp and still nobly acting like the older sister. This was so like Elsa. It was so infuriating and touching at the same time. Anna wanted to slap some sense into Elsa, to tell her to put herself first for once, and it would have been seriously considered it if the latter weren't already on the brink of unconsciousness. She wasn't worthy of Elsa constantly sacrificing herself for her. "Nothing. Elsa, please, just worry about yourself."
"Don't… argue… with me. It's not… good… for my health," Elsa joked feebly, holding Anna's injured hand lightly in her own, and turning it over so she could kiss the broken knuckles. There was something about the painful effort the action no doubt required that caused tears to well up in Anna's eyes again, despite the pleasant flips her stomach was doing at the contact. Elsa looked at her in surprise. "What's wrong? Talk… to me…"
The irony of that statement called to mind so many things Anna wanted to say in response to that, but most of them would have probably incited another argument between them, which, in light of Elsa's current condition, was not the best idea. Instead, she admitted, "Just once, I wish I could be the one to do this for you, instead of the other way around."
"Do… what?"
"Make you feel better. Make you happy."
Lips curled into a smile again. "Didn't you… hear me? I am… happy."
Anna knew better than to dispute that, despite her complete inability to fathom how Elsa could have possibly been happy in this situation. Instead, she tried a different approach, "I'm not. I am so mad at you."
Elsa looked at her in confusion, fatigue weighing down her eyelids, and Anna could tell it wouldn't be long until she lost consciousness again. She continued, "Yup. That's right. You're in so much trouble when you get better, I swear. For being so stupidly reckless. For trying to act like you're completely fine. For pretending that you're happy with this."
Anna didn't know if Elsa heard her last words, because it seemed that sleep had swiftly claimed her once again, although the blonde's lips remained curved in that same smug smile, as if she were still enjoying some joke with herself.
The first thing Elsa noticed was the familiar beeping of a patient monitor, that same blasted kind of patient monitor that almost gave her away when Anna accidentally kissed her. Although this time she was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to just rip off the leads and walk away. And then her entire body was on fire; the words excruciating pain didn't even begin to describe the feeling. It was more like someone was ruthlessly hammering away at her ribs and leg, and that same someone had sadistically replaced her blood with shards of glass. Oh, and there was someone also drilling holes in her sides.
She slowly forced opened the weighted eyelids that seemed to be taped together, squinting through the murkiness of the room and the first thing that came into focus was a bundle of strawberry-blond hair nestled against fair freckled arms which then caused that accursed heart rate monitor to embarrassingly speed up in its beeping. Slowly breathing in and out to calm herself, she searched for a distraction.
She could make out a glint of silver in the darkness, and noticed the Olaf bracelet on the hand that was tangled with her own, which was a bad idea, because the satisfaction of its presence it only further spurred her already racing heart.
Pain forgotten, she closed her eyes, frustrated and unimpressed with how hopelessly uncontrollable her feelings were.
Someone entered the room then; Elsa could hear the clicking of the door, and the whirring of an electric wheelchair told her it could have been no one but Ariel. The whirring stopped beside her bed, and she could basically feel Ariel's unconvinced gaze burning holes in her face, and before her amused friend could comment on the quickened beeping of the goddamned machine, she opened her eyes in surrender.
There was that look again; Ariel was ready to throttle her. She silently thanked whatever wounds she had sustained; laughably, they were probably the only reason she was still in one piece, so to speak. "How much trouble am I in?" She rasped, voice hoarse from lack of use.
"You are neck-deep in trouble."
Great. She knew Anna was angry with her as well; she remembered that declaration well enough, before fatigue had claimed her entirely. 'For acting like she was completely fine'. 'For pretending that she was happy with this'. The irony of those two statements were almost comical; the only time she hadn't been putting on a façade was when she was lying in Anna's lap, satisfied and contented despite Alistair needling away at her wounds. Anna's adorable rambling had driven away the ruthless stinging of a needle piercing through her skin, proficient in its goal to distract her from the pain. It had felt like ice on a burn, to not have to lie to Anna, at least for the little time they had spent talking. She had put all of her effort into staying awake, knowing that when they returned to civilization she would have to reestablish that detestable mask of indifference.
Anna stirring beside her shook her from those thoughts. Probably saved her from Ariel's wrath at the same time, too. The sleepy girl groggily rubbed her eyes with a bandaged hand, the other still locked with Elsa's, and noted Ariel's presence, muttering, "Wha… time… is it?"
Ariel reached over to the bedside lamp and flicked it on, flooding the room with a warm yellow, a dim brightness that didn't hurt Elsa's adjusting pupils. "Late afternoon; you guys slept through an entire day and then some. It was early morning when search-and-rescue brought you here."
"What of Hans and the others?" Elsa grimaced again at the sound of her own voice. Her tongue was like sandpaper, and her throat a desert. Ariel handed her a glass of water, which she graciously accepted and drained.
"We got them; don't worry. Hans is being held here, in the hospital, until he's stable enough for transport. I gotta say, Anna got him good with that lute," Ariel grinned at them.
"I need to see him," Elsa announced, with as much conviction as her throat would allow.
"What?" Anna and Ariel echoed at the same time, staring at her as if she'd sprouted a third eye in the middle of her forehead.
"I need to see him," she repeated, refusing to acknowledge their disbelieving glances.
"Elsa, are you sure you're alright? You do remember what he did to you and Anna, right?" Ariel asked her slowly.
Elsa gave her an impatient glance. "I'm fine, Ariel. I remember perfectly what he did to me. And I'll never forgive him for what he did to Anna," she flicked a look at Anna's bandaged hand, "But I need to speak with him."
Anna and Ariel exchanged a glance, but neither of them wanted to argue any further with Elsa, so Ariel wheeled herself off to fetch a nurse and inform them of Elsa's request.
"Are you still mad at me?" Elsa turned her head to face Anna, taking in the disheveled bed of auburn, bandaged cheek, and glowing teal eyes.
"Yes. Yes, I am."
"I'm well enough to take another beating now, I think," Elsa joked half-heartedly, hoping it would dispel some of the displeasure that was radiating off her sister.
"Elsa, do you think I find what you did for me funny?" Anna asked her incredulously, "Because I don't think recklessly throwing yourself in danger is a laughing matter."
Oh, she really was mad. Elsa sighed. "What would you rather I have done, Anna? Wait for Alistair to slowly pick off the guards outside one by one while Hans continued to—" she struggled for the right word, "—hurt you? And then risk him taking you as a hostage even after all the guards outside were safely taken care of? No, Anna, I wasn't about to take that chance. I would still do the exact same thing, if I were given the choice again."
"You traded your safety for mine!" Anna accused, as if it were a heinous crime that Elsa had committed. "How in the world could you expect me to be okay with that?"
"Anna, it was worth it—"
"Worth it? Nothing is worth this, Elsa! Nothing is worth you getting hurt for me! Nothing is worth you almost dying! Nothing!"
"Well, to me, it was worth it!"
"To me, nothing is worth that! Not even my life!"
"Anna—"
"No, Elsa, you can't expect me to be okay with you treating your life as worth less than mine!"
They were glowering at each other now, but Elsa didn't argue with her further; the ache in her ribs was bothering her too much and one of her hands unconsciously moved to cover the ridiculously sore area, trying to alleviate the jabbing pain.
How could she explain how she had felt to Anna? The sensation of triumph, of accomplishment, at finally being able to have done something right for Anna, to have protected her successfully, it was too satisfying, too gratifying to be able to express in words.
Her entire life she had been nothing but a source of discontentment and distress to her sister; shutting Anna out, pushing Anna away, and viciously lying were the only ways that she had been able to protect her little sister, from school bullies, from herself, from their mother up until this point. When she was able to achieve this without having to lie or pretend, it was liberating. It was like, for once in her life, she could finally do the one thing that she desperately wanted without simultaneously having to do something that she profoundly abhorred.
So caught up in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed the sniffles coming from beside her, but when she did, they carved themselves into her heart, each one cutting deeper than the last. Ignoring the extreme throbbing that were the protests from the stitches in her side, she dug an elbow into the mattress and pulled herself into more of a sitting position, upper back against the pillow. "Come here," she murmured, and tugged on Anna's uninjured hand, coaxing the distraught girl to crawl onto the space beside her and nestle into her, allowing the red nest of hair to settle on the pillow, against her shoulder.
Elsa brought a hand up to brush away the tears when Anna buried her face into Elsa's shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably now, "I-I was so s-scared, Elsa. So s-scared that I would l-lose you. At first, he told me you were d-dead, and then you sh-show up and you let him h-hurt you like that, and I c-couldn't help b-but think, w-what if you d-died? B-because of me?" A hand knotted itself in the sheets beside Elsa. "Wh-what would I do, w-without you? It was terrifying, Elsa, a-and I-I—"
"Shhhh…" Elsa touched an index finger to her sister's quivering lips, "I'm safe, I'm alive, I'm here, and I won't put you through that again," she whispered, turning so that she could plant a comforting kiss atop Anna's head.
She was painfully well acquainted with that frightening feeling, the feeling of possibly losing someone so dear to her, she realized, as the horrifying memory of Anna falling through the ice almost seven years ago returned to her, along with the ugly flare of panic and shortness of breath when she even considered the possibility that Anna may have frozen to death or drowned because of her. Because she had been so careless. The same taut vice coiled around her heart at the thought, just as fresh as it had seven years ago, and she was overcome with sorrow at having put Anna through that.
There had been nothing worse than the thought of losing a person more dear to her than her own life.
The sobs reduced to soft whimpers, and Elsa lightly caressed Anna's wet cheeks, "I know how that feels," she admitted gently, "It's scary; it's ugly; it's horrible. I would have given anything for you not to have had to watch."
She knew all about the terrible sensation of having to watch someone else in pain; it was why she had always so selfishly removed herself from the situation after having had a fight with Anna, or after viciously lying to Anna. Wanting to suffer alone had been one reason, but not wanting to watch her sister suffer had been another. She had been tormented enough just by imagining Anna's possible responses to her hurtful words and actions. She had been too much of a coward to stay and witness it.
"I'm sorry," she said, thumb stroking slow circles on the back of Anna's hand as the violent shaking beside her was slowly reduced to a light tremble.
"P-promise you'll n-never do that again," Anna demanded through her tears, burying herself deeper into the pillow.
As much as it broke Elsa's heart to acknowledge the emotional pain she caused her younger sister, she found herself struggling to agree to this promise. She hadn't been lying when she said this was well worth it; Anna's life was worth a million of hers. She was still sure she'd rather be the one taking the physical punishment, but the sentiment wasn't selfless; she knew she could endure the pain, but she definitely would not have been able to watch Anna's without losing her sanity. In a way, Anna had endured more than she had, and it made her feel even more undeserving of such a courageous sister.
A redirection was all she could manage through the lump that had inadvertently formed in her throat. "You wouldn't have had to watch if you'd closed your eyes like I told you to," Elsa reminded her, hoping her playful tone would loosen the tension in the air.
Anna sputtered beside her, the statement evidently catching her off-guard. "You couldn't seriously expect me to just ignore what was going on in front of me," she spewed angrily. "Would you have been able to block it out if you were watching Hans hurt me?"
No, Elsa would have sooner gone insane with rage at the prospect of anyone hurting Anna than actually let that happen, but she didn't respond, out of unwillingness to let Anna get her point across. It would mean what she had done was unacceptable, which was the exact opposite of how she was feeling about her decision, even now.
She sighed and turned her head to the ceiling so she wouldn't have to face the scowl that was undoubtedly gracing her sister's features by now. "I'm sorry about what I did at the party, too," she said abruptly, broaching a subject that she knew might very well have been even more emotionally damaging than the previous one. She wasn't about to win the previous dispute, and she silently prayed that this change of subject would deter Anna from pressing her point, ignoring the small voice in her head that accused her of running away again.
She knew it worked when Anna stilled beside her. "It was my fault, Elsa. I let Hans rile me up before I talked to you. I was angry, and I wasn't thinking."
This surprised her. "What?"
There was a shuffle of sheets as Anna scooted closer to Elsa. "I don't know. I wasn't thinking," Anna confessed again, "He told me you said I was too much of a little kid to trust with anything. That, combined with what happened this entire week, and I was kind of confused and mad because you wouldn't talk to me, and his words just made sense in my head at the time."
"Oh, Anna," Elsa whispered, resting her cheek on the soft bed of copper hair against her shoulder, "That's not your fault. It's mine. It was my inability to communicate with you that caused you to misunderstand my actions. The fault is mine, not yours. You're always believing in me, when I don't deserve any of it. I don't have any right to think that still you trust me, after what I've done to you."
"Elsa," mumbled Anna, in a voice more serious than Elsa would have been comfortable with. "Can I ask you something?"
"You can ask me anything," Elsa replied, and then blanched at the realization that she might not be able to answer whatever Anna was going to ask.
"Why do you say you don't deserve any of it?"
This was one of the questions Elsa couldn't answer, even if she tried. It wasn't as if she didn't have an answer. There were a million reasons she didn't deserve Anna, a million reasons Anna would be better off without her, a million reasons why she wished she could be there for Anna, and god knows how many times she wished that Anna wouldn't need her in return.
The most glaring reason was that she was broken. Damaged. Incomplete. Twisted. Her father and his exercises on perfection, her mother and her façades, they had turned her into a heinous monster that wouldn't even hesitate when raising a hand against the one she loved most. To say that she loathed herself to the core would be an understatement; there must have been a special place in hell for people like her, those who only caused pain for the ones who tried to love her.
When every situation was distilled to the bare facts, she was to blame for all of her sister's misfortunes; it was always because she couldn't control herself around Anna, because she had wanted her sister's happiness so much that she didn't reach for the foresight to consider long-term consequences.
Caught between all the lessons she'd been forced to take in her childhood, her father's ideals on perfection, and her mother's ravenous appetite for power and control, she never had enough time to spend with Anna. And she could see it in the way the little redhead's round turquoise eyes had lit up whenever they passed each other in the halls that Anna wanted to play with her. That Anna was lonely. The best she could do was to avert her gaze as their shoulders brushed by one another.
It was her fault Anna basically grew up alone. It was her lapse in judgement that had caused Anna to fall through the ice. It was her constant foolish negligence that was the root of all the injuries Anna somehow ended up sustaining whenever they were together. And after she had decided to close herself off from Anna once and for all, she couldn't even endure the solitude properly.
She was imperfect. And the crushing reality of it destroyed her every time she acknowledged it. She couldn't live up to her father's ideals. She couldn't even properly keep up an act. Mistake after mistake, imperfection after imperfection. She had fallen short of everything that was expected of her, even being an appropriate role model for her younger sister.
After all, she had fallen in love with Anna. And that was just the most despicable thing she could have ever done to Anna. The ultimate failure.
Needless to say, her transgressions were beyond redemption. Beyond forgiveness. Even she couldn't forgive herself, how could she deserve it from anyone else? How could she deserve Anna's forgiveness and acceptance? There was nothing she could do to begin to redeem herself.
But she couldn't say any of that. So they stewed in silence as she mulled over how to respond.
"You still won't tell me?" Anna cemented the implications of Elsa's reticence.
"I'm sorry," Elsa exhaled, breathing out an air of remorse and regret at her forced secrecy.
"Can I ask you something else?"
"As I said, you can ask me anything. I just might not be able to give you a satisfactory answer."
"Mark mentioned that our mom has been threatening you with my… wellbeing," Anna began, "Is that… is that true?" She was watching Elsa carefully, as if gauging the blonde's reaction for the answer, instead of waiting for Elsa's spoken reply.
"Mother would never hurt you, Anna," Elsa declared steadily.
"Is 'discipline' just a scolding, then?"
"What—"
"Stop lying to me, Elsa. I want you to get whatever misconception you have in your head that says lying to me is going to make me happier and throw it out the window. Your face says you're trying to lie. Please, Elsa. I'm not asking you to spill all your secrets. Just a simple 'yes' or 'no'. Did Mom use me against you?"
Elsa's eyes searched Anna's determined ones, and the conviction colouring the calm depths in front of her convinced Elsa that she wasn't going to escape this unscathed if she continued her attempts to lie.
Her inability to deny it was sufficient evidence of an affirmative to Anna, and the audacious girl pushed further, "How long?"
Elsa was reluctant to divulge anything further. "Anna—"
"How long, Elsa?" The question was so furiously spoken that it was almost a growl, so uncharacteristic of the usually jovial voice.
"The first time was when she forced me to graduate early."
"Graduate… Oxford?"
Elsa was tempted to lie again and confirm the answer when her hesitation incited a look of realization to cross Anna's face.
"Graduate… high school," comprehension flashed in Anna's eyes as she suddenly sat up and twisted to face Elsa. "She's been using me against you for three years, and you never told me?"
"What good would telling you have done, Anna? You would have just felt bad that Mother was using you as leverage to push me. Even now, all it does is make you feel guilty."
"Right, because I'm so useless. I can't ever do anything to help you." The statement wasn't bitter, like Elsa had expected, but spoken like it was a decided truth. The defeated tone of Anna's voice ignited Elsa's intrinsic protective instinct, and before she was even aware of what she was doing, protest erupted in her arms and sides and she was hugging Anna to her, despite the comfortably uncomfortable weight of her sister's body against her aching muscles. Anna was quivering as she spoke again, head resting limply in the crook of Elsa's neck, "Mark was right; I am your weakness. All I do is hold you back."
Good god, in the puny span of time that she had been awake, Elsa had somehow managed to upset Anna twice in a row. This must have been a new record for her. What a noble big sister she was.
"Look, Anna, that's not what I meant. I just didn't want you to worry about me. And it's not like Mother has been constantly threatening me with your wellbeing throughout the span of three years. And despite all her threats, I don't think she would actually hurt you." Finding courage in the hand that came to grasp hers, she continued, "Like I said back in the ski lodge, you're not my weakness. You bring out the best in me; you give me a reason to get through the day. You're not my weakness, and we'll do something about this together, okay?" She looked downward and smiled as her gaze met a pair of teary eyes. She added playfully, "If anything, chocolate is my weakness. If Mother threatened the safety of the chocolate in the house, I don't know what I would do."
Her last line elicited a small chuckle that resonated through her collarbone to the rest of her chest, which spurred a heightened rate of beeping from that goddamn patient monitor next to the bed. Her ears warmed in response.
Anna shifted the bulk of her weight off of Elsa and back onto the mattress, lips still curled in a smile, temporarily distracted by the implications of the machine's reporting. She was about to say something, something comical, Elsa presumed, judging from the mischievous grin she was sporting.
Thankfully, Elsa was saved from ridicule by a knock at the door. Anna quickly crawled off the bed and seated herself in her original position as the handle turned and Ariel wheeled herself back in.
"The nurses say you're in no condition to be moved, so if you really insist on talking to Hans, they're going to have to move your entire bed next to his. They would move him instead, but he's in this high security area of the hospital or something and they gotta fill out a bunch of paperwork before they let him near you."
Elsa nodded, and wondered why a nurse hadn't come to speak to her directly about her request. She found an answer in the arrogant smirk pasted on Ariel's face, and suddenly she knew that her friend had taken her time speaking with the nurses on purpose.
Ariel's expression turned more serious as she disclosed more news, "Also, your mom is coming to see you. I have no idea how she's feeling about being tricked by your pretend-to-be-dead plan, but I think we can safely assume she's not happy. Not that she's ever happy, but maybe more unhappy than usual."
Anna gripped Elsa's hand tighter, and Elsa nodded, "Yeah, we'll figure something out, together."