*Trumpet fanfare plays in background*

Sucker Punch is back, you all!

*Everyone rejoices*

But really, I apologize for the hiatus this story had to go on. Even with it out of the picture, I still had a hell of a time finishing A Never Ending Note. Alas, the deed is done, and now I can devote all my attention and love to this story.

Also… *Cue evil laughter* After making you all wait two months, I leave you with the evilest cliffhanger of all evil cliffhangers! Bwa-ha-ha.

But, it's also the longest chapter to date, so you all can't get too mad. ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen. Now I think I'll go cry in my room after that painful realization.

Please review!

P.S. Also, for those of you who weren't reading ANEN, I have a Tumblr now! x-sodenozangetsu-x! Give me a follow!

Chapter Six: Stand Your Ground

The next few weeks were awkward to say the least. The first night we met for training we were still so…reserved…around the other that we didn't really get much accomplished. Elsa basically had me show her all I knew and she gave me a simple rundown on what I did well, what I could improve on, and etcetera before we yet again lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. The air was so thick with tension—and do I dare say it was partly sexual?—that one would have had to use a machete to cut through it.

I mean, I could just be painfully optimistic about all of this, but what other reason would Elsa have to look at me briefly before immediately looking away and blushing?

I was beginning to think maybe wearing a sports bra and shorts had been going down the wrong alley. I was clearly making the poor girl suffer.

Then again, it wasn't like she was doing anything to help me; what with those skin-tight leggings and dark blue sports jacket.

Okay, so maybe she was dressed conservatively compared to me, but did her outfit really have to be so…form-fitting?

The first night was by far the worst, not only because of the awkwardness of the entire situation, but also because Elsa seemed far too distracted to do much "training"—or teaching, in her case.

It got a little easier after that. Elsa and I continued to meet on a regular Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday schedule and, ever so carefully, we both became more comfortable around the other. That isn't to say there weren't any secret stolen glances or subtle flirting anymore, just that we had grown accustomed to it. So much so that it almost became expected of the other. After a while, dressing for the gym soon became as important as dressing for a five-star restaurant. I had to dress to impress; whether I was in a simple tank and basketball shorts or an exquisite spaghetti-strap dress didn't matter. All that mattered was that Elsa would be seeing it, and I didn't count it a success unless I got a blush out of her when I first met up with her.

I usually did, although I could tell she tried her best to start to hide them as time went on.

I knew this entire process was huge for Elsa. She had made it clear she made it a point to hide from others, using her introversion more as a shield than a personality trait; yet she continuously showed up every night on the dot for our sessions. Sure enough, slowly but surely, she became more open and animated with me with each one.

So, one day, I broke down and asked her out.

And, before anything gets blown out of proportion, it wasn't supposed to be an "out" in a date sort of way. While I secretly harbored the hope that I could one day ask her out in such a way, I knew now was not that time. She had come so far in these short few weeks, I didn't want to send her running back for the hills.

"Good," Elsa comments as I complete a combo we had been practicing. "You're still locking your knees up though, and that's hindering your movement."

"You saying I'm wound too tight?" I joke, throwing her a grin over my shoulder.

She smirks and replies, "That's exactly what I'm implying."

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I had indeed managed to elicit sarcasm from the blonde goddess herself. No applause necessary, really.

Not letting my grin diminish in the slightest, I barrel straight on forward.

"If that's the case," I speak up, trying the combo once more, "perhaps you'll join me tomorrow?"

When I finish and turn to look at her for critique, her arms are wrapped around her middle—what I've learned she always does when she's nervous.

She keeps her eyes on me, however, which is impressive.

"Doing what exactly?" she asks.

My hand comes to rub the back of my neck—my own nervous tick; and judging by the way Elsa is now smirking at me, she realizes this.

"I don't know," I mumble. "Honestly, I didn't think I'd get this far."

When Elsa stays silent, I start blabbing like I usually do.

"It doesn't have to be anything big," I exclaim. "Maybe just a walk through the park? I'd just…like to do something with you during the day…outside of this gym." I chuckle, feeling suddenly overcome with the way Elsa is almost scrutinizing me now. "I mean, these meetings at night are nice, but I just feel so…"

"Isolated?" she offers. I smile weakly in confirmation, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

A few seconds pass in which Elsa darts her eyes around the room as they glaze over. Apparently she's thinking hard about this. Then her eyes flicker to me and she flashes me a smile before averting her gaze to the punching bag over my shoulder.

"Yes," she whispers.

"Yes?" I echo, somewhat shocked by her seemingly confident answer.

"Yes," she repeats; affirms. Looking back to me, she smiles again; big and wide, teeth showing. "I'd like that, Anna."

I'm too overcome with giddiness at her acceptance that I only vaguely realize that was the first time she's ever said my name.

XxXxX

The following day comes and I still find myself mildly surprised when Elsa shows up, meeting me at the entrance to Central Park that's across the street from my apartment building. Still, the giddiness from last night is present, so I don't remain shocked for long.

As Elsa approaches, I can't help but be floored by her beauty. If I thought Elsa was a heavenly being in mere workout clothes, then she's even a step above that in street clothes. Dressed in a pair of baby blue skinny jeans, purple t-shirt, and white cardigan, she radiates beauty and commands respect like some kind of queen.

I honestly wouldn't mind having to bow down to her.

Woah, okay, that was a lot over top there. Down, Anna; heel, girl.

Reining myself in as this goddess on Earth nears, I manage to compose myself before flashing my trademark, goofy grin, waving like crazy even though she's only ten feet away and can clearly see where I'm standing.

Still, she's a good sport as she waves with almost as much as enthusiasm back, smiling shyly back at me.

Gods, this girl is fucking adorable.

"So, you've lured me into the light," she quips. "Now what?"

"Now, we have some fun!" I cheer, hesitating only slightly before grabbing her arm—her left one, as I notice even today she's still wearing that brace—and dragging her deeper into the park.

We don't do much, really just walk and talk, nothing more, but to me, it seems like the most fun I've ever had.

We're walking across a bridge, side by side and with cones of soft-serve in our hands, when Elsa speaks up—she had been fairly quiet all day, letting me do most of the talking.

"I suppose I should thank you," she says, her stare boring into her ice cream so hard I'm just waiting for it to spontaneously combust.

"For the ice cream?" I put on, knowing Elsa's about to take this conversation down a serious path. Not the best with emotionally-heavy material, I try to keep the light ever present. "'Cause they were only two bucks."

She smiles briefly and giggles softly before her gaze focuses elsewhere off in the distance. Finishing off my cone quickly, I give her my undivided attention.

"I know I've touched on this several times, but you're really the first friend I've had in a long time, Anna, and I want to thank you for that."

I smile warmly; any attempt to put her at ease I take. My heart swells when she calls me her friend as I had been afraid to put a label on what we had, and am elated to know she thinks of me as more than a "student."

"Can I ask why?" I question next. "Why you haven't had many friends?"

She chuckles dryly and responds, "I think you know why."

I think I do too, but that doesn't mean I'm in any way confident that my theories are the truth.

"I want to hear it from you, Elsa," I tell her.

We're now standing in a small circle with a tall statue in its center. I watch Elsa look around us, taking note of all the people milling about.

"Not here," she mumbles.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes as she yet again avoids giving me an answer. I'm tired of this cat and mouse game we have going on. She can't say something like that and then not expect me to push more from her. I mean, that's not being rude, right? She keeps bringing it up first!

I contain my snarky retort as I try to remind myself that this is Elsa and she is doing her best. I need to try and see this thing from her perspective.

The biggest thing remains to be that she does want to tell me—or someone. She trusts me enough to confide in me, and that fact alone couldn't make me any happier.

"Then where?" I gently prod.

When her eyes continue to dart around, I place a hand on her left shoulder and squeeze.

"I promise whatever it is won't send me running."

She actually does roll her eyes at me.

"You say that now…"

Pulling my hand back, I blink.

"Jesus, Elsa; did you kill someone or something?"

She laughs, but it comes off more like a scoff. She fixes me with a stare, blue eyes swimming with apprehension, emotion, and a burden she fears no one can ever truly understand.

Except me.

I will make every attempt to understand anything she has to tell me. Hell, I would attempt to understand why she murdered someone if that were the case. Like it or not, this girl is stuck with me.

Apparently, she's able to pick up on my stubbornness and unwillingness to turn away, for when she blinks, the intensity of her gaze is gone, replaced with what can only be described as surprise.

"You really have that much faith in me?" she asks.

I beam and nod.

"Call it unwavering optimism or whatever you'd like, but yes; I believe in you, Elsa."

She sighs heavily, and I hope she can feel the weight of the world trying its damnedest to lift from her shoulders.

As she brushes her bangs from her face, she huffs, arms wrapping around her middle once more.

"Can you come by my place later tonight?" she asks, and my mind immediately goes to the gutter, drawing out every possible innuendo that isn't there. "I promise I'll tell you everything then."

I promise her I'll be there and she leaves me standing in the center of the park, a crumbled piece of paper with an address on it clenched in my hand, solidified hope in my gut, and my 100-watt smile gleaming on my face.

It may not seem like much to go on to anyone else—after all, I've learned one too many times in high school that promises can mean shit—but for Elsa, with Elsa, it's more than enough.

XxXxX

"You're not reading it right, Annie!"

The small, shrill voice of a toddler reminds me I'm at work, sitting in a circle of children, and supposed to be reading Dr Suess books.

Apparently, I'm failing in that endeavor. When children begin to criticize you, you know you're doing something wrong.

I smile down at the little boy in my lap—who insists on calling me "Annie" no matter how much his mother or I tell him different.

"I'm sorry, Olaf," I say. "Would you like me to start over?"

He nods his head furiously, and with the cheers of ten other children in the background, I really have no choice but to comply.

Still, if Elsa would just text me to let me know what time she wanted me over tonight, perhaps I wouldn't constantly be checking my phone on the floor next to me and therefore no longer jeopardizing my imitation of The Cat in the Hat.

"What's the matter, Annie?" Olaf asks as I flip back to the beginning of the book.

"Yeah," another kid, Marshall, chimes in. "Don't you like reading to us anymore?"

My smile falters. "Oh, of course I like reading to you guys!" I exclaim, taking time to look at each little face individually.

Good gods, they all look heartbroken! Why are kids so sensitive?

"Are you sick?" Olaf asks next, going the extra length to reach up and touch my forehead.

I chuckle and grasp his hand in mine.

"No, Olaf, I'm not sick. I'm just…worried for a friend."

"Why come?" a little girl asks, and I chuckle at her fumbled grammar.

Gods, how do I even attempt to explain this?

"Well," I start carefully, "she's going through a rough time right now. I told her I would try to help her, and now tonight she's going to tell me what's going on."

"Why's that bad?" Marshall questions, leaning forward, seemingly intrigued. "Sounds like a good thing to me! You're gonna help her!"

"Yeah, but…" I copy him and lean forward, wrapping my arms around Olaf and biting my lip. "I feel like I may have pushed her into it. She might not be ready."

"People are always ready for help!" Marshall cries.

"And you're helping her!" Grammar Girl adds. "Sounds like she's in good hands to me."

Olaf looks up at me and notices my lasting frown and creased eyebrows.

"Is there something else, Annie?"

I chuckle and ruffle his dark brown locks.

"I just don't know how much help I'll be, buddy."

"But you always help us," Grammar Girl points out, and I see all the other children nodding in agreement with her claim.

"Yeah!" Olaf chirps. "You kiss our boo-boos better, you rock us to sleep at naptime, and you call our parents when we're sick!"

I laugh again as I reply. "I'm afraid it's not that simple this time, Olaf. Elsa's a lot older than you all, therefore her problems are more complicated."

"Will our problems get more…comp-i-cated…as we grow up?" Marshall asks, his eyes as wide as saucers.

"Elsa's a pretty name!" Grammar Girl yells, disregarding anything I had said afterwards.

I smile at the little girl. "Yes, it is," I affirm. "And she's very pretty herself."

"Do you like her?" Grammar Girl all but shouts after portraying an overly dramatic gasp.

Olaf giggles as he sees me blush. Sitting him on the floor beside me, I pick up the forgotten book that had gotten me in this situation in the first place.

"Why don't we get back to the story?" I offer.

A collective groan is my answer, and I can only roll my eyes.

Kids…

XxXxX

I'm at the gym later that night—despite it not being one of my scheduled training sessions with Elsa—when my phone rings. I can hear it trilling loudly from my locker as I'm in the showers, and I immediately know it's Elsa. Kristoff only calls me this late when he's drunk and I know he has class tomorrow so… It better not be him.

But that's beside the point.

Knowing I'm the only one in the gym this late, I don't hesitate to dart from the showers in only a towel, and manage to get a good enough grip on my phone to answer it on its last ring.

"Hello?" I answer, out of breath for a variety of reasons.

Elsa immediately picks up on my breathlessness from the other line.

"Anna?" she asks, as if she's worried she has the wrong number for a moment. "Is this a bad time?"

"No!" I quickly tell her. "Great time! I just showered and finished up at the gym, but I'm good! Great, actually." Now that you called, I add in my head.

When I only hear the sound of quiet breaths on the other end, I take it upon myself to ask the big question.

"Are you ready for me to come over?"

Another few seconds pass before Elsa breathes out such a quiet "yes" that I'm afraid its static.

I smile warmly though, even though Elsa can't see it.

"Great," I reply in an equally quiet exhale.

"Do you still have the address?" she asks.

I nod, again aware Elsa is oblivious.

"I do," I tell her.

"When you get to the lobby, press the button for my apartment number and the elevator will unlock."

"Do you want me to bring anything?" I offer. "You know, to make this easier?"

I hear her chuckle. "What, like a tub of ice cream?"

This girl thinks I'm joking.

"Yeah!" I cheer. "Or a blanket, or a pizza, or a puppy!"

"I'll take the puppy," she says with another laugh.

I make a tsk-ing noise and let out a long sigh. "Fresh out of puppies," I play along. "Just gave the last one away."

"You're a tease, Anna," she says with a giggle, and I swear I will never tire of her laugh or the way she says my name.

"I try," I quip.

Suddenly realizing I'm standing in the middle of a public locker room, dripping wet and in nothing more than a towel, I instantly become self-conscious. No doubt Elsa is dressed immaculately on the other side as she sits curled up on her couch or something.

"Well," I cough since we have fallen into such silence that I can hear water droplets falling from me and onto the tiled floor, reminding me of how naked I am and how the awkwardness of this situation is steadily rising with every tick that sounds from that annoying clock on the wall. "I'm gonna get dressed, and then I'll be right over!"

"Okay?" she says, and I realize it probably sounds more like a question because she's wondering why I basically just told her I'm talking to her in the nude.

I decide telling her I am covered won't be doing much to save face at this point, so I just offer a goodbye before hanging up.

"God damnit!" I scream, hurling my phone back into my locker. "Why am I so awkward?!"

Seriously, can I please have a conversation with this girl where I don't make a fool out of myself? As I return to the showers to finish up—yes I had actually been in the middle of showering when I answered the phone; ten more awkward points to me—I pray I don't mess tonight up. I don't need to appear a bumbling idiot when Elsa is basically going to be baring her soul to me.

Then again, I am just an eighteen year-old kid; I'm in the prime of my awkward. Someone's got to embrace it, right?

Gods, I need a new word for "awkward."

XxXxX

In just a little over forty-five minutes later, I'm standing in the lobby of Elsa's building—which is bigger than the size of my entire apartment, believe it or not.

Finding "Arendelle" under the number 1403, I push the little button between name and number. A bell sounds and the elevator next to me opens.

I'm halfway up when I begin to freak out.

I forgot the pizza and ice cream.

No, but seriously, I'm about to find out what could basically amount to the biggest story in sports today. Elsa Arendelle, the boxer who vanished without a trace, is confiding something so scandalous in an eighteen year-old nobody.

Then again, me being an "eighteen year-old nobody" is probably all Elsa has going for her at this point.

Every optimistic bone, muscle, vein in my body instantly detests the fact that I just called myself a nobody. I'm anything but a nobody, they try to convince me instead—yes "they" as in my bones, muscles, and veins are talking to me; get over it. If Elsa is telling me her deepest, darkest secret, I have to be important, right? She wouldn't just spill this to anyone, right?

I'm questioning this and more as I exit the elevator and progress down the hallway, eyes scanning for that special door with 1403 printed on it. I find it with no trouble and come to a stop before it. Raising my fist, preparing to knock, I stop.

Elsa is on the other side of this door. Maybe she's curled up on her couch, arms wrapped tightly around herself to keep a hold on her sanity as she waits for my arrival. Maybe she's written down everything she's about to say on index cards and is rehearsing her speech in front of her bathroom mirror. Or maybe she's as chill as can be and couldn't care less that I'm right outside her door, frozen in the act of knocking.

But with everything I know about Elsa—which isn't all that much, regrettably—I highly doubt it's the latter; most likely anything but. I may have just met this girl a few weeks ago and only started really talking to her even more recently than that, but I like to think I know Elsa pretty well. I'm beginning to pick up on what makes her who she is and what makes her do the things she does. Tonight will only help me understand her more.

Sardonically asking myself if I even know how to knock, I remember to breathe as my knuckles rap out a melodic tap tap ta-tap tap on her door.

"Elsa?" I ask. "It's me, Anna."

The silence that immediately follows is so prolonged that I'm beginning to think I misread the address Elsa had given me and that I'm in the completely wrong place.

Before I can decide whether to knock again or just leave, the sound of approaching footsteps on the other side of the door stops me. Locks rattle, and ever so carefully, almost shyly, hesitantly, the door opens.

I beam.

"Elsa!" I exclaim with a sigh, relieved I was in the right place. "I thought maybe I got confused somewhere and ended up with the wrong number or something!"

She laughs softly before averting her gaze to the floor.

"Sorry," she mumbles. "I was just…preparing myself, I guess."

I smile sympathetically at her, trying to ease any lasting anxieties.

And then I wait.

And wait.

I'm about to ask if I can come in when Elsa beats me to it.

"Uh, come in, please," she mumbles again, blushing no doubt because of the brief awkward silence that had passed.

I step into her apartment and find myself in a short hallway. Immediately to my right is a shelf with keys and jackets hanging from hooks, a lone picture standing on its shelf. I'm too busy keeping up with Elsa to really see the picture, but I do catch a glimpse of wispy blonde hair and a perfect smile.

"You can sit anywhere," Elsa tells me once we step into the living room. "Do you want anything to drink? I have some water boiling for tea."

Again, I smile and nod. "Tea sounds great, thanks."

She smiles quickly before retreating around a corner. Soon enough, I hear the sound of cabinets opening and dishes being moved about. I can't help but grin at the feeling of domesticity that washes over me.

How can this feel so right—being in Elsa's home, having tea with her, sitting down on her couch—when I barely know the girl?

I'm just taking the time to take in the setting of the living room when Elsa comes back carrying two mugs emitting bursts of steam in one hand. She carefully hands me one which I take graciously before she herself sits down on the opposite end of the couch from me, knees tucked up underneath her body. Frowning slightly at the gap between us, I yearn to move closer, but keep myself at bay. She's nervous, probably borderline freaking out; I don't need to make her even more so by encroaching on her personal space.

Again, silence befalls us, but at least I have my tea to keep me occupied. I want to break the silence and get this ball rolling, but I also want Elsa to be the first to speak. I need to feel like I didn't push her into this. I need her to recognize I'm here for her, not for myself.

I need her to trust me. To really trust me.

"Um," she begins softly, "I don't know if there's any easy way to explain this."

She's refusing to look at me as I respond.

"Well," I say, "not to sound belittling or anything, but how about starting at the beginning? I mean, not the beginning-beginning, but… Ugh." I huff. I see her smirk, though, so I just grin and force myself to continue. "What happened after the last Olympics?"

I see her hands clench around the mug in her hands and mine twitch in return, wishing so desperately to take those hands in mine and kiss them until she's worry free.

But, that's too forward. Obviously.

"I—well, my parents—have a home down in the Florida Keys," she starts to finally explain. I lean forward eagerly. She keeps her eyes down. "We were planning to go down and celebrate my victory just like we did after the first Olympics I competed in."

Huffing, she sets her mug on the coffee table in front of us and wraps her arms around her middle, hunching over.

Not caring about boundaries anymore, I inch my way over to her.

"We were going to stay the rest of the summer in Florida, and then in fall I would come back to New York and resume training. I was going to compete in the next Olympics. My parents made a point to make plans with the media for me to announce all this sometime in the winter."

I watch her gulp before she clenches her eyes shut, and I know she's fighting back tears.

"Then everything happened," she whispers brokenly. "Everything fucking went to hell."

I reach for her hand—her left one—without any second thought. If this was being done under any other circumstance, perhaps I would have become elated when I feel her squeeze my hand like a lifeline. Instead, I just stay silent, stomach churning in anticipation as I wait for the bomb to drop.

"What happened?" I can't help but ask, my own voice strained.

She shakes her head, but opens her eyes and looks at me, her eyes scanning the very depths of my soul. I shiver for countless reasons.

"You have to pr-promise me not to leave, Anna. Please," she begs, voice cracking.

I swallow my own lump in my throat. "O-Okay," I squeak. Hoping to reassure her more than that pathetic attempt, I blink and my eyes harden. "I won't leave you, Elsa," I tell her.

A smile flickers across her face as well as several unnamed emotions, before she's back to stoic, eyes wavering nervously.

She takes a deep breath and my hand tightens around hers even more.

Then, she's extracting her hand from mine and reaching for the brace on her right arm.

I hold my breath.