"Well then, gentlemen," Elsa said, straightening to her full height out of the leather office chair. "I think that about covers it. Any last concerns or questions?"
"None," said one of the men seated in a similar chair, and the others around the conference table nodded. "Thank you, President, for coming out here to meet with us."
Victoria offered her escape, but not really. You couldn't escape from your own thoughts, no matter where you went or how many meetings you piled into your time. And there was no argument regarding whom Elsa's thoughts were about.
"The pleasure was all mine, sir. Thank you for agreeing to fund my project."
"Your preparation was very well done. There are older, more experienced CEOs who do not plan half as meticulously as you do. You've assured me that I will be putting my money into the right hands." A murmur of agreement rippled through the standing sponsors.
"I know you're leaving first thing tomorrow, but could I interest you in a private tour of the Butchart Gardens? I have some friends over there who are more than willing to keep it open for a couple more hours, and I'm certain many of our fellows would love for you to see more of Victoria than just the Parliament building."
"Thank you, but I…" Elsa paused. She would only be returning to a desolate hotel room and would probably spend the rest of her night missing Anna. She was rather regretting not taking more initiative to hold her sister's hand, or instigating an embrace, because now her arms felt too empty, her hands too cold without the warmth of another within it. She smiled, but that even felt foreign. "Actually, that would be lovely. Thank you."
"I'll have my driver pick you up, then." The man glanced at his watch. "Sunset is always beautiful over the garden."
This was such a bad idea. While the tour guide prattled on about the history of the garden, about the Butchart family, Elsa could see nothing but the flame of Anna's hair in the sunset glow of the tulips, the shine of Anna's eyes in the tranquil blue sage flowers, the rosy tint of her cheeks in the perfectly pink roses.
"So the Sunken Garden was the first that the Butcharts planted. After Mr. Butchart exhausted the limestone deposits that used to be here, his wife endeavored to turn something barren and ugly into something beautiful and lovely…"
I know a girl who could do that, too.
Elsa leaned on the painted green railing, taking in the full splendor of the vast oasis. From the magnificent blend of amethyst, sapphire, ruby, emerald, amber—gems embedded in a sea of grass—to the fire of the falling sun, the entire picture was surreal, as if Elsa had walked straight into a painting. The only thing wrong with this masterpiece was that someone was missing, like the entire thing was a jigsaw puzzle with a thousand pieces, and one, only one part was lost, so no matter how beautiful, it was incomplete, and would never be perfect.
They were gems, each and every one of the flowers. The vibrancy of their iridescence made even something as common as grass and leaves seem amazing. Elsa guessed that this had something to do with the contrast of colours. After all, rubies would just be rocks if every rock were a different shade of crimson. What made them special was that they were rare, jeweled treasures that took effort to obtain. What made them extraordinary was the fact that no other mineral could be like them, no matter how hard it tried. There would never be a second, anywhere in the world. Not even a close second.
If Anna were here, she would take time to admire every single petal of every single flower, eyes glowing as if each plant were different from the last. That was what made her different. Special. She could see beauty where no one else could. She could see light even in the shadows. She could see good, though surrounded by evil.
But that was the problem. She was too trusting.
"Do you mind if we get to the point?" Elsa said firmly, looking across the room at Ursula and Morgana. She knew how the sisters tended to talk in circles. Part of what their job used to be, actually. Contracts formed with convoluted words, twisted pledges, and sugarcoated sentences. "I am going to remind you that I do not require your services." She added, after a thought, "At this moment."
"That's a shame, isn't it, Morgana?" Ursula remarked, wiping a nonexistent tear from the corner of her eye with a handkerchief. "We did have many a successful bargains when we worked in tandem with your father."
Her father may have known how to keep them in check, but Elsa wanted nothing to do with them. If they weren't so deeply rooted in Arendelle Corp, she would have searched for a way to remove them from the Board.
"It is indeed, Ursula." Morgana assumed an aura of urgency. "That isn't why we called you here, though."
Ursula's mouth exhibited signs of a sinister smile, although they remained pressed in a line. The bright red lipstick she wore reminded Elsa of fresh blood, to be honest. Elsa wondered briefly if that was intended. "Can we interest you in some seafood? Sashimi, perhaps?"
"I appreciate the offer, but I do have to attend another meeting with department chiefs shortly."
The fake cheer in Ursula's smile evaporated in an instant. "Fine," she expelled, and shot a pointed glance at Morgana.
"Your father expressed this concern with us, but we thought we would have a few more years before voicing it," the skinnier of the two began.
"What?" Elsa asked, caution ringing in her ears.
"Your…affection for your sister," Ursula said. "It may prove detrimental to your endeavors as President. If you become so easily angered at the mere mention of her name, then she or yourself could easily be painted as an easy target for our enemies. You must understand this, for it has already occurred once."
Fury exploded within her, a chilling blizzard. What right did these people have to question her personal life, her family? What right did they have to meddle in her business? How she reacted to comments about Anna was her choice, her choice, and damned she would be if she did not fight back every insult with tooth and nail.
Her hands balled at her sides, and Morgana made an irritated noise. "You see? That is the type of reaction that tells our opponents what your weak spots are. We cannot have you alerting all of our competitors to such a thing if they ever make mention of your sister."
"Her personality also poses another problem. She is reckless, stubborn, foolish. Her tendency to rush right into things would no doubt cause trouble for you in the future. You must be able to keep her under control, and do not let her undermine your authority. If you allow her to run rampant, she will destroy everything your father has built up for you both," Ursula said, emotionless.
Elsa had to grit her teeth to keep from snarling, "Anna is not a wildfire." Anna was her business, only hers, and no one else's. And it was even less Ursula and Morgana's. How dare they speak such things of Anna to her face? How dare they utter such insults, such insinuations, as if they knew Anna, knew her better than Elsa? As if they had any inkling of exactly how amazing and awe-inspiring and magnificent she was.
To insult Anna—well, there was no better way to erode Elsa's control and ignite her rage.
Morgana raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? Well, if you're sure you are able to keep her under control…"
Keep her under control? Why was there a need to keep her under control? Anna was not Elsa's servant, nor her employee, nor her captive. She was Elsa's sister. And that warranted much more respect and reverence than the word 'control' indicated.
"There is no need," Elsa seethed. "I trust my sister. She would never do anything that would be of detriment to the foundation. If that is all, I will be excusing myself." She turned to leave.
"Just make sure she doesn't meddle in unnecessary affairs," Ursula called after her. "Heaven knows you could screw this up in plenty of ways even without your airheaded sister getting involved. I have heard how naïve and ignorant she is."
That was the last straw. Without another word, Elsa all but stormed out of the building, posture not relaxing until she reached her car. The absolute worst part was, a tiny piece of her was agreeing with Ursula.
Elsa wondered if she would ever be able to stop thinking of Anna. No, probably not. And this pathetic thirst for Anna's voice was just growing and growing within her, every single day they spent apart. In fact, Elsa was pretty sure that even if she and Anna hadn't spent a single day apart, she would still miss her as soon as Anna stepped out of her line of vision. Stupid. Pathetic.
Which was why she had left her cell phone back in her hotel room. If it were on her person, she would be obsessively checking it every five seconds to make sure she hadn't missed a call or text. Anyone who needed to reach her could reach her through Mark, or Alistair, who were following her close behind. She just didn't need the extra distraction of her phone, and wishing for a message that she would probably never receive.
"So, any questions so far?" The tour guide asked as they stopped at the mouth of the Italian Garden. The flowers behind him were beautiful, but they were not the beauty that Elsa wanted to see. Elsa stared at the map in her hand, eyes locking listlessly on the word 'Italian'. And she was lost again.
"Hey, Elsa, you know what makes spaghetti awesome?"
Elsa looked up from her serving of seafood fettuccini, a little surprised at the sudden and very random question. "No?"
Anna expertly twirled a bundle of pasta onto her fork, "Guess."
Shrugging, Elsa predicted, "Tomato sauce?"
Copper locks swished back and forth as Anna shook her head, grinning widely, "Nope."
Knowing Anna, it was probably something weird and nonsensical like the salt on the noodles or something. "The seasoning?"
"Nope!"
Elsa sighed and pledged a hand in defeat. "I give up. You're much too smart for me."
"Meatballs, Elsa!"
She couldn't for the life of her imagine how meatballs possibly differed from tomato sauce or seasoning. They were all a part of the dish, were they not? "Why?"
"Because they make it better!"
"So do tomato sauce and salt," Elsa argued.
"Yeah, but you don't see a dish that's called spaghetti and tomato sauce," Anna retorted. "Or spaghetti and salt."
"Okay, your point?"
"You don't have to have meatballs with spaghetti, right? But without meatballs, spaghetti would just be pasta and tomatoes. And same with meatballs! They could both be served alone, but when they're together, it's a thousand times better."
"Miss?" The voice shook her from her despondent reverie.
Great, she was already at that stage where she could link just about everything to Anna. She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm sorry. I seem to be evolving a headache; I think I'll take my leave. Thank you for the lovely evening, and please pass that on to your employer."
The sun had sunken almost completely below the horizon, its last rays of light buried in the clouds above, the death throes of fire in quicksand.
There should be a limit to how much a person could miss someone, Elsa reflected morosely as she unlocked her hotel room at The Empress. Her eyes magnetically drifted to her phone, still plugged into its charger the way she had left it this morning, waiting for her to obsessively check it again, on the bedside table.
"I need a damn charger," Elsa grumbled, leaning over to pull something out of her suitcase. Her charger.
Wasn't this just so pitiful of her? Having laminated each page of Anna's hero essay and then bound it to a hardcover shell? And then just stared at it aimlessly until it was time to work?
Bet you're not her hero anymore.
I just wanted to protect her. Why is that so wrong?
The sudden peal of the telephone on the coffee table made her jump. After she collected her bearings again, she strode over and picked up. "Hello?"
"Ms. Elsa," Alistair began, "Forgive me for the disturbance, but I have something to report."
"Please go ahead," she replied. As if she had anything better to do.
"As far as I know, Ms. Anna is still visiting the De Vil mansion daily," he informed her, "and attempting to escape the watchful eyes of my men every morning. One of them reported seeing her coming out of Mr. Shan Yu's resident very early this morning."
Panic flared, trenchant and painful, ripping at the void in her chest that she was so desperately trying to cover. "Dammit, Alistair! This is exactly what I wanted you to prevent! Was she hurt?"
"He was ninety percent sure she had a wound of some sort on one side of her neck."
"What the hell am I paying you for, Alistair?" Elsa spat. "To let my sister walk into a mercenary's home? To let her continue waltzing into the dens of tigers? Let her wade into piranha-infested waters? Into—"
"With all due respect, Ms. Elsa," the veteran guard returned, his tone tested, "You have tied my hands rather tightly. If you continue to withhold permission to use physical force, then all we can do is have her followed. If you disallow any injury to her whatsoever, we cannot risk direct confrontation. We can only delay her arrival at her destination. What else would you have us do?"
He had a glaring point, but Elsa refused to accept it. She would not stoop to using brute force to get her way. And she would not have Anna injured by her own hand, ever. "You're the one who's well-versed in defense, Alistair. How hard could an eighteen-year-old girl be for you to handle?"
"Perhaps we should both refrain from continuing to underestimate Ms. Anna," he suggested cautiously. "There is a simple solution to all this."
"Do tell."
"You could speak to her, Ms. Elsa," he offered, carefully neutral. Alistair was always astute in discreet conversation. "If I may be so bold."
Yet, if Elsa were to speak to her now, in such a frustrated state of frenzy (borderline hysterical), they would no doubt end up butting heads again, horns and all, and they would most likely end up shooting more regrettable projectiles.
Stupid, so stupid, the both of them. This entire thing was stupid. If Anna would just stop trying to help Elsa, or whatever it was she was doing—didn't she know that her existence alone was more than enough encouragement? Couldn't she see that Elsa would go to the ends of the earth—to hell and back—just for the sake of her wellbeing? In spite of all that, there she was, thoughtlessly flinging herself into the face of danger again and again—why couldn't she understand the state of terror Elsa would be in (the way she was now) if she ever got hurt? Much less because of Elsa?
She was gripping the phone receiver so tightly in her hand that the plastic creaked in protest as her fingers skidded angrily across the handle. No matter what emotion she felt for Anna—be it uncontrollable rage, frustration or panic—when the smoke cleared, longing was always the last one standing.
So she put aside what was left of her pride—pride as the heir, pride as the elder, pride as the CEO—as she always did when Anna's welfare (or happiness, but up until then the two weren't so astronomically distinct) was threatened, and resigned. "I…understand."
The bodyguard did not say another word; he did not need to, for the silence between them was louder than any message could ever be. He hung up wordlessly, leaving Elsa in another indomitable staring contest with her cell.
Even the journey of reaching for it was a challenge, for there were suddenly weights as heavy as plutonium dragging her arm back to her side. She was afraid, and there was no rhyme or reason—she just was. A thousand concerns raced through her mind. Was Anna still angry? How was she doing? Was she disillusioned by Elsa's silence? Did she finally see how painful it would be to pursue a relationship together? Was she regretting her decision to love Elsa?
The last question won out, though. How badly was she hurt?
Anna was injured. Anna was injured, and here Elsa was, pathetically debating whether to call. Stupid. Ariel was right; could she get any more utterly idiotic?
When she unlocked her phone, she was surprised to find a missed. Call. From. Anna. Christ, what stupid part of her stupid sleep-deprived brain decided to stupidly leave it in her room today? God dammit.
She returned the call immediately, but it had been made like more than twelve hours prior—Anna would be sleeping now, for sure, right? It was almost three in the morning; Elsa had spent a great deal of time wandering around the streets of Victoria before Alistair finally convinced her to rest for the night. Why the hell was she in Victoria again?
A tap on the screen ended the call before it could connect. Elsa could wait until tomorrow. This could wait until tomorrow. After all, she was returning to Vancouver tomorrow to prepare for the monthly meeting with the Board. They could talk tomorrow night. At least, that was what she tried to convince herself.
She picked up Anna's essay again, and flopped back onto the pillows to read it for what seemed like the millionth time. She could recite every word from memory and match them on the papers, she knew every stroke of ink by heart, she could even remember the exact angles of the creases in the pages, but it was the closest thing she had to Anna, so no matter how many times her eyes scanned the print it would never be enough.
How could a person be this enamored with someone? There was no word in the English language that aptly described how Elsa felt about her sister. There was probably no word in any language that would be a faithful representation of her affection for Anna.
Her hand slammed down on her phone again, and then the device was above her head, thumb searching for pictures or texts or something that would tide her misery over until morning. Sleep was out of the question—even though it presented the only way to escape from the crushing feeling of missing someone, it never came easily to her.
She hesitated at the messaging app; the last time Anna had texted her was when she was when…
She skipped it, and her thumb ended up hovering over Skype instead. When was the last time they had a Skype conversation? Was that when Elsa was back at Oxford? Well, whatever conversations the chat logs remembered, it would be more cheerful than what was lurking in her depths of her texting app.
Skype opened with its signature 'woosh', and proceeded to update her conversations. Well, conversation. The only contact she had on Skype was Anna. Her brow furrowed; she had six unread messages. Unread? She clicked into the chat.
And checked the timestamp. Once, twice. Three times. Was the date on her phone malfunctioning? Because these messages were from this morning.
She shot up in her bed.
Snowflake: Hey, Elsa.
*You see, I said some really nasty things to my girlfriend, and I feel really bad about it, so I wanted to talk to my sister and my best friend about it.
Oh, Anna.
*The thing is, they're all you.
"Anna," Elsa groaned, and ran a hand through her hair to push back the bangs that were intruding upon her vision.
*I'm sorry, Elsa. I didn't mean it. You know I didn't mean it.
Tears pricked the back of her eyes when she realized she did. After all, she would be viciously lying if she said she had never let anger and frustration get the better of her before. Even so, this did make her feel better. A lot better.
*I was hoping we could meet tonight. At the Cactus Club on English Bay Beach? 7:00PM?
Elsa checked the clock. No.
*I don't even know if you'll get this, but I'll wait for you. I'll wait all night.
"No, no, no," Elsa whispered, dread stealing into her and sapping the warmth from her body when she registered the time, knowing that she could not make it.
I'll wait all night.
She sprang out of bed and raced out of the room in an instant. Mark's room was right beside hers, and she couldn't be more thankful that it was. "Mark! I'm going back to Vancouver! Now!"
The door opened to her dazed assistant, in a t-shirt and sweats, rubbing his eyes. "President, your meeting with the Board isn't until noon tomorrow."
"I am not explaining myself, Mark. And I'm not asking that you come with me. I just need you to find a way to get me back to Vancouver as soon as you can."
He looked over his shoulder at the radio clock. "The ferries won't be available until at least three more hours later, Ms. Elsa."
"Then book me a flight," she snapped, because she knew, the way she knew with the same absolute assurance that the sun would rise in the morning, that Anna would still be waiting for her.
He heaved a barely-concealed sigh that she was too wired to press, and retreated into the depths of his room to retrieve his laptop. After a couple (long) minutes of clicking, he declared, "There's one flight at seven. You would arrive at approximately seven-thirty. Uh," he checked the time again. "The earliest ferry leaves at six, so you would arrive at eight-ish. Shall I book the flight?"
"Isn't there anything earlier? Anything at all? A private fishing boat, a police helicopter, anything? Mark, this is of the utmost importance. I must get back to Vancouver."
He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ms. Elsa; this is the best we can do."
"Can I buy a plane that will fly me to Vancouver?"
Mark was rubbing his forehead. "The time it will take to get a plane and personnel here will far exceed the time you need to wait for the flight or the ferry."
What was the point of all the billions of dollars that was her family inheritance if she could not use it to make the person she loved most happy? Why the hell was she working herself into the ground, when it couldn't protect the person most important to her? She didn't care if it was going to kill her, she would even swim back to Vancouver if it meant she would make it there on time.
"What about the Coast Guard?" She proposed maniacally. "They're constantly patrolling the waters, couldn't you convince them to make an extra stop at English Bay?"
"English Bay?" He echoed with a quizzical look, but he knew better than to ask. "I could give them a call, but, with all due respect, I highly doubt that they'll agree."
"What about the military?" She heard Alistair suggest sardonically from the doorway behind her. "Why not get them to just parachute you?"
"I will pay them, whatever it costs," she said, ignoring her thoroughly irritated bodyguard, "As long as they get me to Vancouver before the night is over."
"Perhaps you should postpone whatever plans you've made, President. It may be humanely impossible to get you back to Vancouver before seven-thirty." The light of the computer reflected on tired brown irises as Mark continued to browse through flight and ferry schedules.
That was right; she could call, couldn't she? Call and tell Anna that she couldn't make it, that she'd forgiven her even before walking out of that apartment, because she understood how it felt to say things that she wished she could take back.
Her phone was heavy in her hand as she pulled it out to dial Anna's number, the number she knew by heart, the number she automatically memorized. Held it to her ear and waited for it to connect.
"No, no," she muttered, when it went straight to voicemail. She was frozen for a moment, unadulterated panic roaring through her veins as she remembered how Anna had waited for her on the doorstep of Arendelle Manor, head resting on the arms crossed over her knees. How despairingly sad Anna had been at her soccer game, before Elsa showed herself. How, right now, Anna would be sitting in a booth with nothing but the seat cushion and the moonlight as companions, still faithfully believing that Elsa would show.
She couldn't crush that. She couldn't crush that hope. Thoughts and ideas were difficult to process, as if her brain was made of pancake batter, sluggishly viscous in its consistency, significantly impeding the formation of any solutions.
After a moment, she hastily called Ariel, which resulted in no answer, because Ariel also slept like a freaking rock.
An hour of restless pacing later, Elsa was completely fed up with waiting around, being nothing and nowhere but useless. "That's it. I'm going to the harbour and find a boat so I can sail myself back to Vancouver."
Mark sucked in a surprised breath. "President, that is crazy—"
"Crazy? If you want to see crazy, then I will spend one more minute being goddamn useless while my—" She steeled herself, fists clenched to retain control. "It is almost four." Each word was forced, like spitting out broken glass. "I am still here. I am going to go down to the harbour, and taking the first working boat I find."
"It will still take at least two hours," Mark protested, weariness and fatigue evidently fraying his patience, "And it won't be nearly as comfortable—"
"Comfortable? The last thing I care about is comfort, Mark. As long as I can get back to Vancouver, I would be willing to sit in the cramped hull of a sailboat."
"Ms. Elsa, I beg your pardon, but someone with your inexperience driving a motorboat will take much longer to get to the intended destination," Alistair interrupted.
She whipped around, advancing on him, "Then what do you suggest, Alistair? Do you have any better way for me to get back?"
"In my opinion, your best interest is that you wait for the seven o' clock flight. I'm sure whomever you are meeting will understand that you have tried to, but cannot arrive on time," he insisted, intransigent.
"We could leave for the airport now," Mark said.
It wasn't that she was afraid Anna would be offended if she didn't make it. It wasn't really even that she feared Anna would be disappointed. Worry wasn't the reason she was so desperate to go.
This wasn't an obligation, a duty. Not to her.
It was because she wanted to.
They touched down at precisely seven thirty. The sun was already creeping over the horizon and all Elsa could think was that the sun was awake, the sun was goddamn awake right on time like it always was and it would dawn on Anna that Elsa could not give her anything that she wanted. That true love was just an illusion, because like the early morning fog, it would be burned away by the reality of afternoon flares.
Everything was a blur, because she was running. Running through the airport terminals, running onto the sidewalks, pushing herself to the limit because she would not forgive herself if she didn't. And when she stopped running, her surroundings were still a blur because she was in a car, with streetlamps and sidewalks and buildings roaring passed her.
But the blur that she liked was short-lived, because they soon hit morning traffic on the highway. "Take the carpool lane," she instructed her driver. She checked her watch, and her stomach plummeted when her weary eyes registered that it was almost eight.
A ride that would only have taken twenty-five minutes was going to take more than an hour because of all the other blasted roadblocks in her way. Just like this stupid disagreement they were having was taking up more time and energy and commitment than it was worth when all they really needed to do was just discuss it.
If her sister hadn't said those things, Elsa wouldn't have walked out. If Elsa hadn't been so thoughtless and goddamn afraid, Anna wouldn't have said those things. If Anna had been truthful with Elsa in the first place, Elsa would never have been so presumptuous and arrogant. If Elsa had trusted Anna in the first place, maybe she wouldn't have needed to be so anxious about everything. If Ursula and Morgana hadn't been so brazenly intrusive, Elsa wouldn't have felt as if she had a saw in her spine.
Useless. Useless.
Thinking about whose fault this was wasn't going to get her there faster, she chastised herself. And it certainly wasn't going to slow time for her.
That was another thing, Elsa thought rigidly. Money couldn't buy time. Just like it couldn't buy understanding, couldn't buy real friendship, couldn't buy true love. The ironic thing was, sometimes working for money was harder than working for friendship or love. In fact, the love and friend that she and Anna had, she hadn't needed to work for it at all. It had come in the form of a gift—wrapped and all.
And maybe that was why she had gotten complacent and taken it for granted. Maybe only sometimes, very briefly, but she definitely had.
That was why she was being punished now. She had no more right to it because she had so readily walked away.
Which is why she got out of the car, ignoring all the protests, and ran.
She wasn't sure how long she had been running, but her lungs were on fire, her legs were weak from the ache, her heart was drumming and she was still running. Her shirt was plastered to her back from all the sweat. She couldn't feel her feet.
People stared. Children laughed. Dogs barked. Cars honked. She didn't care.
She thought of the only thing strong enough to distract her from the protests of her own throbbing body. She was done complaining about her woes, throwing dignified temper tantrums like a five-year-old when she couldn't get what she wanted.
She recounted all the things she knew about Anna: Her favourite fruit was watermelon. Her favourite snack was chocolate. She loved the green of emerald grass, especially underneath a pale sheet of cold diamond white. She always had a jump in her step. Her hair was strands of fire. Constellations of freckles graced her skin, the stars of all the dreams that Elsa had ever wanted to obtain. Her smile was the sunlight, her laugh like the wind.
But Anna was so much more than that. She slept on the right side of the bed because it was closest to the window, the sky. She was warmth, she was kindness, she was love. She was the midnight blue of the morning, the sweet sugar in chocolate that made the bitterness okay, the melodic pitter-patter of soft autumn rain after an unbearable heat wave.
Elsa burst through the glass doors of the restaurant at quarter past nine, finding the entire thing empty and devoid of life, save for one person peeking out of the back at the sudden disruption.
She was too late.
"Was someone here?" she demanded, as soon as the man approached.
"Sorry, we're not open now," he said, then mumbled, "Actually, we were just closing."
"Was a girl here? Copper hair, bright teal eyes?" She snapped, raising her volume in panic.
A look of contempt settled across the waiter's face. "Yeah, she was. Waited all night. For you, I'm guessing?" He didn't wait for her answer before saying, "Whatever she might've done to you, she certainly didn't deserve to be alone the entire night."
"When did she leave?"
He shrugged. "About an hour ago."
"Did she say where she was going?"
The waiter shrugged again. "Home, I guess. To recover from being stood up, probably. Although she did mention that she had to work today."
When she turned to leave, the man called after her, "Hey, are you her girlfriend? Can't imagine anyone else she'd wait more than twelve hours for. As far as I can tell, she's a real keeper, you know."
She halted in her step to answer, "No, I'm—" Then she remembered. "Yes, I'm her girlfriend."
Then, "And yes, I know."
The air was quiet and only disturbed by the sound of panting when a breathless Elsa opened the door to her condo slowly, as if there might be some secret she didn't want to uncover waiting for her on the other side. After a few steps in, she relished the smell of home. Her leather armchair in the office was fine for about an hour, but it couldn't quite substitute for a real bed in a real home.
"Anna?" She whispered into the air. Only silence answered her.
Moving quickly, she checked Anna's room. Empty. Did she leave already?
Elsa was about to go back down the hallway to the exit when she saw a flash of red from the room across the corridor. Her own room, illuminated only by a single tunnel of light from between dark curtains. Delicately, she waded inside.
Her hands turned into cold metal, and a lump of spikes collected in her throat at the sight of Anna curled on her bed, back to the door. Her ginger hair stretched on the pillows behind her, like diffusing red dye in water. She hadn't even bothered to pull up the covers before falling asleep.
I was too late.
Elsa's chest filled with shards of glass. She had walked closer and saw that there were tearstains on fair freckled cheeks, trails of rain from twin suns.
"Anna," Elsa breathed softly, tortured. Leaning down so that she could brush that rain away. The sleeping girl stirred lightly, defensively drawing her knees tighter to her chest, one cheek pressed against the pillow. Elsa could just make out a long incision on the side of her neck, red and angry, but not bleeding. "Oh, Anna."
"Elsa," Anna murmured, though the word was heavily coated with sleep. Her eyes were still closed, lashes wet and twitching; it took Elsa a moment to realize that she was still asleep. "She hates me.
"She hates me, Ariel."
Slurred, muffled, and unfocused, but the meaning was there if she listened with her heart, not her ears, and it bludgeoned Elsa as if it were a hammer. Her arm shaking, she reached out to caress her sister's head, stroking along smooth ginger locks. "How could I, Anna?" She whispered, strangled and tormented. "How could I hate you? It goes against my very existence."
Anna let out a soft sigh before muttering more unintelligible words and nudged herself deeper into the pillow, her breathing steady and even.
"You waited all night for me," Elsa continued, the volume of her voice barely above a low hum. It wasn't a question, and if it were an accusation, it was directed at herself. "It must've been hard. Waiting is the hardest thing, isn't it?" And that conjured all sorts of memories that she didn't want to remember.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, startling her hand away. Thank god she'd adopted the habit of having the ringer off. It was a text from Mark asking if she needed to rehearse her presentation for the Board, and she sorely did. Her eyes turned back to the sleeping girl, and instinct took over.
She reached out once more and brushed back messy locks of copper, leaned forward. "I'm sorry, Anna."
Anna let out another small sigh, but didn't react further.
Elsa closed her eyes, dipped her head just a bit more, and planted a light kiss on the side of her sister's forehead, lips barely touching fair skin. Reluctantly, she slipped away from the bed, and back into the living room to collect her things.
The jar on the kitchen counter attracted her attention, and her eyes dashed back to the half-open door.
"If you have a new dream, write it here," Anna had admonished her, setting the jar next to the microwave.
"Okay, but why do you need to put it in the kitchen?" She had queried, tilting her head. She felt like she was missing a point.
Anna rolled her eyes and then grinned. "You think about it. You're smart; you'll understand when you're older."
"Okay, Mother. Are you going to have the sex talk with me, too?" Elsa bit back, but returned the smile.
"Yeah, but minus the talking," Anna had retorted, grinning wider.
Elsa was unconsciously blushing at the topic that the conversation had rapidly devolved into. She shook her head of the thoughts, then retrieved a square piece of coloured origami paper from the stack beside the jar, hastily scribbled one word, and folded it into a star, the way she had learned from watching Anna do it before. The new honeydew green star landed beside the black Infinity star with a plop as it hit glass, and Elsa left the condo.
She understood now, though. Kitchens were where new things were constantly being created.
"I have adequate backing from the sponsors now, and next week I will be meeting with the realtors to discuss purchasable plots of land. If all goes well, the contracts will be signed and construction will begin within the month." Her pointer tapped the white screen that held the image the quietly humming projector was shining onto. Charts, graphs, and calculations littered her powerpoints, to prove her point and defend her arguments. She'd had nothing but time to prepare them, after all.
Ariel was seated closest to her, watching with thinly veiled interest and discomfort at being so close to her father's mortal enemies, Ursula and Morgana, who were snobbishly perched in leather chairs on the other side of the U-shaped conference table.
"I do hope we get a copy of the contracts," Ursula said, neutrality a poorly placed veneer to disguise her discontent, presumably regarding the borderline rude way Elsa had abruptly ended their rendezvous.
"Notice that there are copies contained within the files that I had handed to you upon your entrance," Elsa retaliated, her own contempt for the presumptuous sisters barely cloaked. She could hear Ariel's satisfied snicker in the way the redhead's eyes curved in amusement.
There was a ripple of silence as her audience scanned the information with their scrutinizing eyes.
"Other questions or concerns?" She prompted. This was the worst part of every presentation, always plagued by the crippling fear of not having a satisfactory answer to the critical questions directed her way. And with this audience, there were always judges looking for ways to dethrone her credibility. She just wanted to get this over with so she could find Anna and they could actually talk.
Her eyes hopped anxiously between Ursula, Morgana, Cruella, and Shan Yu.
"None from me," Kai granted, reclining in his chair to have a better view of his colleagues.
Elsa smiled at him; the man was always remarkably amiable for someone of his position, a role model that she could aspire to. Proof that fairness was still possible in an ugly world stained with blood and money.
Shan Yu was looking bored, his boots habitually stacked on the table as he stretched out on the chair. Elsa was surprised. Usually he'd be complaining about lack of forcefulness in her wording or lack of imposition in her presence, but today he was uncharacteristically silent. He also looked unsettlingly regaled.
Elsa scrutinized Cruella De Vil next, who was frowning at the document clutched in her hand. Did she have no bone to pick, either? This was bordering on shocking; Cruella De Vil was known to make trouble where there was no trouble.
"You should have included a more detailed breakdown of the material costs in the construction contract," she declared slowly. "And also perhaps a range of the size of land. It would make finding a suitably sized piece of land more efficient."
"My apologies," Elsa replied quickly. "I—"
"No need to bow your head," Cruella De Vil interrupted nonchalantly, gesturing vaguely with one gloved hand. "Just suggestions. The rest is satisfactory, I suppose."
And that was her stamp of approval, Elsa guessed, astounded at the lack of hostility that was so disparate compared to the last board meeting. She nodded; she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and reluctantly turned to face Ursula and Morgana.
"This entire thing is foolish," Ursula spat callously. "You should have left some things tactfully ambiguous so that they could be exploited later. There is no room for deceit in this rubbish!"
"I don't expect that you think your silly vision can be completed without capitalizing on the trust of others," Morgana added, bony arms crossed over her chest. "In fact, none of this is something that your late father would venture, bless his soul. To me, this seems like you are trying to realize the folly of a schoolgirl."
"Unless…you were actually influenced by a ridiculous schoolgirl," Ursula scoffed, a gibe that was meant to reinforce the corrupted counsel that she and her sister had given Elsa earlier that month.
Elsa's jaw clenched; here it was again, fury as chilled as liquid nitrogen seared through her veins at her ineffectiveness in defending her sister once more.
But Elsa wasn't the only one stiffening at the blatant disrespect. "Listen up, you sad, deluded pair of wrinkled old hags," Ariel growled, eyes narrowing like a lioness defending her territory and Elsa was suddenly reminded of why they were friends. "What you're saying has about as much use as a dead rat. Either give some useful advice or just keep your worthless mouths shut. If you dare say another meaningless word about the President, her sister, or any other member of her family, then all it means is that you're jealous old dirtbags who could only lie and cheat their way to the top."
The sisters scowled simultaneously. "And what of it?" Morgana sneered, exchanging a glance with her sister. "Here we are, sitting on the Board of one of the most influential companies of the world. Would you say our tactics were ineffective?"
Elsa was startled by the heavy weight of Ariel's glare, now aimed at her, spurring her to speak. She remembered the pure rage in which the last meeting with Ursula and Morgana had resulted in, and both her tolerance and patience grew brittle. "I've wanted to refrain from saying this, but it's been years since the two of you have contributed anything useful to this company other than your money, and you wouldn't even be here if my father hadn't taken pity on you."
Her eyes turned into knives, sharp and ready to kill. "If you have the gall to say another word about my sister outside the boundaries of praise, I will not hesitate to have both of you removed from the premises and cast out onto the street below."
"I'd like to see you try," the fat woman countered, though real fear made its way to the surface of her deceitful eyes.
"You forget that my family controls the position of Chairman," Elsa almost snarled, losing the gloss of her composure. "Mark my words; if you utter another syllable of slander about my sister, I will follow through with my promise." Without missing a beat, she asserted sharply, "Meeting adjourned."
She watched with a sneaking satisfaction as Ursula and Morgana skulked quickly out of the conference room, tails between their legs. At the other side of the table, Elsa spotted Shan Yu lurching to his feet, and Cruella De Vil packing her adorned leather briefcase.
"A word, please," she requested courteously, nodding at both of them. "I am appreciative of your approval," she said tentatively to the two most influential members of her Board, offering her hand to Cruella De Vil.
The fashion aficionado stared for a moment, and then shook it. "I'm not the one you should be thanking," she disclosed.
"Nor I," Shan Yu grumbled after also accepting the handshake.
Elsa had thought the sudden one-eighty was strange. "Then who?" she hazarded warily, even though some deep recess of her mind already knew the answer and was bombarding her with guilt.
"Ms. Anna," Cruella De Vil said at the same time that Shan Yu muttered, "Anna." They looked at each other with mild amusement and surprise.
"I owed her a favour," explained Cruella, when Elsa, despite having braced herself, looked absolutely flabbergasted. "She did me a great service."
"She actually broke into my residence and demanded that I cooperate with you," Shan Yu chuckled, his rigid shoulders quivering ever so slightly with the laugh. "An interesting one, that girl. Her courage—or is it stupidity?—could put a number of my trained warriors to shame. Now, if you'll excuse me." He stalked off, a rare look of relaxation replacing the habitual scowl of hostility.
You stupid, stupid fool! Elsa stared at the ground, head churning with guilt and shame, and love. You let her fight your battles alone! For you! She did it for you! Even after you left her, tried to stop her, the complete opposite of encouraging, she pushed on, for you! It was unfathomable how thoroughly frustrated she was with herself. You let her fight the battles that you were too terrified to initiate! How could you? What kind of sister are you?
How could you?
Fix this!
"Mrs. De Vil," she called out suddenly, feet moving on their own to catch up with the older woman, who was already halfway down the hall. She could feel Ariel's tempered gaze following her, critical and denouncing. "Could I ask a favour?"
"…So after the Snow Queen's sister saves her, they reconcile and live happily ever after," Anna finished, closing the large book of fairytales that was in her lap.
"What's 'reconcile'?" Cecil asked, sprawled out on the carpet beside her.
"It means to be friends again," Ivy told him, getting up from her spot by Anna's other side to throw a pillow at her brother. "Like, when two people forgive each other."
"But why would they need to forgive each other, if they're friends?" The boy asked, giggling when he caught the cushion and flung it back at his older sister. "Don't they know each other enough to not need it?"
"Grrah," Ivy growled in exasperation and hunkered down beside him, fingers digging into his sides. "Say 'uncle'!"
"S-s-s-s-s-s-stop," he cried, laughing uncontrollably, twisting desperately on the ground to get away from his sister.
Why would they need to forgive each other, if they're friends? Anna pondered wistfully, smiling when Cecil finally managed to escape from his sister and ran away, inadvertently beginning a game of tag. Her hand flew to her neck, fingers brushing the outline of her Olaf necklace, the only tangible reminder she had left of the closeness she had shared with her sister.
Thinking of Elsa was like reopening fresh wounds, sewing them closed again, only to pull out the stitches again moments later. At this rate, she would never heal, but she couldn't stop her mind from drifting to the glass doors of Cactus Club, and how they never opened last night. How the stars had not been visible. How her only light came from the dying candle before her.
Her phone was heavy in her pocket, dead and lifeless because it had died around midnight and she had forgotten to charge it when she got home.
Just then, the beeping of the front door opening resounded throughout the house, and the two kids who were racing about hurled themselves at the entrance. Anna pulled herself to her feet, but even that was a struggle.
It was Cruella De Vil, home hours earlier than she was supposed to be.
"President De Vil," Anna said, greeting her employer with a small smile. "You're home early. It's only six-thirty."
"Maybe I have missed them," Mrs. De Vil replied, smiling down at the children who'd attached themselves to her legs. "A little."
Anna wished she could see the person she missed so easily as well.
"Shall I have my driver take you home?" Cruella suggested when Anna packed up her things and prepared to leave.
"No, it's fine," Anna answered, "Could I borrow your phone? I'll call my driver, or a cab."
"That may be unnecessary," Cruella De Vil remarked, looking past her to the street.
The hungry roar of an engine sounded behind her, and Anna turned her head to see a sports car, one she discerned, from the symbol on its hood, as a Lamborghini. A beautiful Lamborghini, painted a light chestnut, a shade that Anna had never seen before, on a car. The colour resembled…her hair, she realized, comparing the hue of her braid to the metal before her.
It wasn't a convertible, and its windows were tinted so dark; Anna couldn't make out the silhouette of the driver until the door opened and she caught a flash of white-gold hair.
Seeing Elsa again, after almost a month of deprivation, Anna felt like a blind woman finally viewing the sun for the first time. It was painful, blinding, to see something that she'd only envisioned in her dreams, and the utter shock of it knocked her breath right out of her.
Anna watched, frozen to the ground, as Elsa skirted around the front of the car to stop in front of her. Her platinum blond hair was twirled into its magnificent braid, adorned with snowflake-shaped diamonds. Her skin was as pale and fair as ever, almost glowing under the probing summer sun. Anna's gaze was drawn magnetically to Elsa's lips, painted a deep pink, curled into a smile, an offering.
Elsa's eyes were a warm shade of sky-blue, accentuated by sparkling lavender eyeshadow dusted on her eyelids.
"Is that her important person?" Anna heard Cecil ask, and Ivy shushed him.
She felt her invisible wound tear open, wider, wider, wider.
"Hi," Elsa said. "I think I really disappointed the person I care the most about. A-and I needed to talk to my best friend and sister about it. The thing is, they're all you."
A/N: Ugh, this chapter was so much longer than I intended because of all the word vomit…so thanks, to all of you, for putting up with me.