Holy heck in a hand basket, guys! This is the second to last chapter! I can't even adequately put into words how incredible this journey has been, but I suppose I'll save all that for next time, huh? ;)

Chapter Thirty-Two: Giving One Final Push

The next month was pretty rough. Tadashi, Hiro and I never brought up Elsa's exact reading from that day, but it quickly became obvious to her that she was not doing as well as had been expected. This, of course, led her to fall into a mild depression, forcing her to believe that this was all for naught, and that she would never be "normal" again after have been led to believe she really could.

Many nights the two of us would be curled up in bed together, me spooning her, tracing circles on her stomach, threading my fingers through her hair, and whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She always seemed to wake up a bit happier after those nights, no matter how quickly that high retreated. These nights were usually preceded by a day at the hospital, Elsa doing her damnedest to make even the slightest twitch. She always broke a sweat, yet not until just last week had she managed any movement. Still, each time, we'd go for ice cream afterwards, sometimes throwing in a walk through Central Park, weather permitting (it was nearing March more and more with each day), before cuddling up in front of one of our TVs and binge watching something on Netflix before beginning our cuddle session.

Then, we were finally granted a miracle (no matter how small) a few days ago. When trying to wiggle her fingers for what had to be the hundredth time with no results, all five fingers flickered with movement for what had to be only a millisecond. Still, that movement was recorded in the computers; that movement was real. While Elsa still refuses to take that a victory, Tadashi, Hiro and I are beyond ecstatic.

"You ready, Els?" I ask, knocking on the bathroom door. Today's another trial day, but unlike a few times prior, my hopes are elevated for the first time in a while.

I swear I hear Elsa grumble something along the lines of "what's the point," before she opens the door with a huff, instead choosing to mumble out a, "Yeah…"

Planting a quick kiss on her forehead, I tilt her chin up so she's looking at me. "Hey," I tell her, flashing another of my cheesy trademark grins, "chin up, buttercup."

That gets her to snort a laugh, the edges of her mouths twitching upwards. "Really?"

I shrug. "Did it work?"

She just rolls her eyes at me before brushing by. "Maybe."

"I'll take that as a yes," I quip before trailing after her with a smile.

We're at the hospital not forty-five minutes later and back in the trial lab that is quickly becoming a second home to us. Tadashi and Hiro take their place behind the computer monitors, Elsa and I several feet away in a chair and stool respectively before the four of us make eye contact.

"Okay, Elsa," Tadashi speaks first, "just try and do what you did last time. I know it doesn't seem like it, but you did get all five fingers to move. It should only get easier from here, no matter how marginally it may seem."

Elsa silently nods, looking back at the sensors covering the stump of her right arm before traveling the distance to where the arm actually sits, hooked up to the computers the brothers monitor.

"Okay," she whispers.

I grasp her left hand like I always do, hoping against hope that I can somehow let my own strength flow through her and get the damned thing to move. Sure, it may be a childish thing to believe, but Elsa and I are at the point now where we're grasping at straws, so I'll believe every little foolish thing out there, thank you very little.

I also almost whisper "practice makes perfect" to her, but I know she's heard enough of that phrase from the three of us to last a lifetime, so I wisely remain silent. Tadashi had explained in the beginning that learning how to control a prosthetic such as this (or even a human transplant, really) is like a muscle—the more you practice with it, the easier it is to use. It's why babies tend to flail their limbs every which way haphazardly; it's why the elderly have so much trouble. That muscle is a completely new concept as an infant and must be controlled, yet by the time we're a senior citizen, that muscle has grown weak from a lifetime of use. The good thing about robotics—or so Hiro says—is that the prosthetic should never grow old. Once Elsa learns control of it, it will remain just as strong until her dying day.

Still, the process of obtaining that control is most likely the most difficult hurdle to get over; forget the dysphoria later on where one arm is much stronger than the other.

I'm pulled from my somewhat cryptic thoughts when Hiro cries out, "Wait!"

Elsa and I immediately snap our attention to him as he taps away madly at the keyboard.

"Elsa," he says, looking back to us, "can you do what you just did?"

"I… I don't really know what I just did. I'm just trying anything at this point," she replies.

Tadashi then takes a look at Hiro's screen before saying, "It looks like you were trying to move the pinkie. Can you just focus on that finger again? The computer recorded more movement."

Elsa nods, shooting me a quick glance. I flash her another smile, squeezing her hand tighter.

"You got this," I whisper.

Smiling herself, her eyebrows furrow, the muscles in her upper right arm straining…

Then, it happens.

"Elsa! Elsa, look!"

My elated cry has her looking quickly to the hand.

The hand that is now flexing its pinkie with ease.

A grin unlike any I've ever seen lights up Elsa's face then, and I can't hold myself back from kissing her temple feverishly.

"It's moving!" I exclaim. "It's moving!"

Elsa lets out a wet laugh, and it's only then I notice the tears brimming in her eyes as she continues to be enraptured with the smallest finger moving wildly from across the room.

Things only got easier from there.

That Saturday, Elsa and I are jostled from a relaxing breakfast at my place by a knock at my door. Sending each other confused glances, I make to answer the door, looking at my phone briefly to see if I missed a text from Kristoff saying he was coming over—I haven't seen the guy that much lately, I honestly wouldn't have been surprised if that had been the case.

So, I'm incredibly shocked when it's not Kristoff standing there, but my parents.

"Surprise!" they cry in your typical, clichéd fashion.

Still, I can't stop myself from breaking into laughter as a grin splits my face.

"What in the world are you guys doing here?" I ask, feeling Elsa approach hesitantly from behind me.

"We thought we'd just fly up to surprise you!" my mother exclaims, pulling me in to her patented crushing hug. "We wanted to see how you and Elsa were doing!"

"Not to mention your birthday is coming up," my father adds. "I have a business trip I can't get out of the actual week of, so I thought we'd make do by celebrating a little early."

I invite them inside, and both of them give Elsa a hug as well before we're all situated around the little island in my kitchen that substitutes as the dinner table. I offer to make something for my parents, but they insist they ate on their layover.

Of course, one of the first things my mother wants to know about is the trial.

"So, Elsa, how's the trial going?"

"Pretty good now, honestly," she responds politely. "It was a bit of a rough start but-."

"She got her pinkie to move the other day!" I interrupt before looking to my girlfriend sheepishly.

She just shakes her head with a sigh and a smile. "Yes, that."

"That's great!" my father says proudly.

"We haven't tried actually putting it into place on my arm yet," Elsa continues. "Tadashi and Hiro want to make sure it's functioning like it should be before actually doing the next step. Once I seem to have the hang of controlling its basic functions, I'll finally get to wear it, and then we'll work on its precision. Like, fine motor skills."

"Still, she's come a long way," I state with pride, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

"Yeah…" she mumbles, becoming so modest I almost squeal from how cute she is.

When Elsa and I finish our breakfast, we take my parents on another walk through Central Park, now that it's nicer outside than when they were here for Christmas. We end up having lunch at the Loeb Boathouse, perhaps the most famous restaurant in or around the park, as a treat from my parents. We celebrate Elsa's success in the trial thus far, before she gets all of our attention.

"I… I want you all to come to one of my therapy sessions," she tells them. "You all…helped me get where I am today, so I want to thank you by showing you what's come from it."

"We'd be happy to come support you, Elsa," dad replies since my mother's about to start crying dramatically.

"Thank you," Elsa says with a smile. "However, maybe not the next one? I want to show you all something more impressive than a moving pinkie."

"We'll come whenever you want us," dad tells her. "Although please don't think anything is too small to show us."

Elsa's smile grows at his words. "Right."

So, our next session on Monday is just Elsa and me which gives my parents—or, my mom, really—time to shop around the city. After affirming that she can now move her pinkie with ease, Elsa moves on to her ring finger. We stay extra long that day, but by the time we're done nearly four hours later, Elsa has moved all five fingers individually and only fell short barely when trying to make a fist. Still, we're all on cloud nine.

My parents accompany us that Wednesday, and I'm beginning to get the feeling Elsa has something planned when she's actually the one to lead us through the hospital and into the lab, a smug smile lighting up her face the entire time, her left hand squeezing mine gently all the while, as if trying to convey some secret message I'm not picking up on.

We introduce my parents to Hiro and Tadashi, the four of them sharing their praise of Elsa while we get situated.

"So, you seem incredibly happy today," I tell her as I help her place the sensors. "Care to explain why?"

There's a brief glimmer in her eyes before she retorts, "No, but I'll show you."

My eyebrows almost disappear into my hairline. Never in this entire trial thus far have I heard Elsa speak with such confidence. Grinning slyly, I lean in to whisper in her ear, "You have no idea how much you're turning me on right now."

Elsa's still blushing by the time we're all ready.

She runs through moving all her fingers individually as a warm up and also to show my parents. My mother is almost in tears and my dad is just amusedly comforting her, yet his eyes never leave the prosthetic. Hiro and Tadashi are again grinning at each other behind their computers, and I'm just standing next to Elsa waiting for whatever has her so cocky—not that it's a bad thing!

Although, Tadashi also seems to pick up on Elsa's change in demeanor as he cuts in once each finger has been flexed thoroughly, the readings recorded and all very strong. Elsa started out at a two; today, she's at an eight.

"Before we move on," Tadashi says, "Elsa, is it okay if I bring in Dr Callaghan and Tarzan? I'm sure they'd love to see your progress. Plus, Hiro and I should've been updating Dr Callaghan throughout this, but we've been waiting for the right moment, and I think this is it."

I glance to Elsa to see her nod without hesitation, and my curiosity only increases tenfold.

What the hell is this girl planning?

Tarzan and Callaghan enter the lab not five minutes later, congregating behind the brothers. Tarzan's grinning like a baboon and Callaghan looks just as smug as Elsa. Elsa runs through all the fingers one more time for the two newcomers before she finally—finally!—alludes to what basically has her on a high.

"Anna?"

She squeezes my hand once more and looks at me with love and…fuck, are those tears?! What is going on, Elsa?

"Y-Yeah?" I inherently squeak, my throat suddenly becoming dry.

"Can you go stand by my hand?"

I barely register the fact that this is the first time Elsa's used the possessive when referring to her hand; instead my heart is beating a mile a minute because fuck, this is the first time she hasn't wanted me at her side.

"O-Okay?" I stutter again, once I'm on the other side of the room. I glance to Hiro and Tadashi who look just as piqued.

"Now, can you take my hand?" she asks.

I start to catch on and tears immediately begin to burn behind my eyelids.

"E-Elsa…"

When she only smiles and nods, tears of her own forming, I waste no time in grasping the robotic—no, her hand—before me. I look back to her and we exchange such an intense look, I feel like we should be parting before a battle, not in a silent laboratory.

Then, I feel each finger begin to move downwards. I can't look away as her hand—Elsa's right hand—slowly encloses around mine. Blinking rapidly, I try to clear my eyes of their tears because fuck, is this really happening? Is this really the first time Elsa's been able to hold something—someone—with her right hand since a year and a half ago?

My mother and I both choke back a sob once Elsa's fully grasping my hand from across the room, and a tear breaks free when I don't even feel the cool metal, but instead Elsa's warmth; like she's able to bring life to this prosthetic by not only moving it, but filling it with her life blood as well. I grasp on, squeezing back, because, damn it, I don't care if she can't feel it, I believe she can.

"Elsa, you…"

I can't form words. None of us can. Even Dr Callaghan is staring wide-eyed.

"You're holding my hand," I whisper. I feel my knees begin to buckle, and my other hand shoots up to hold it too, if only to keep me from falling to the ground in an emotional heap. "You're holding my hand…"

"I'm holding your hand, Anna," she whispers back.

Sliding out of her grasp gently, I cross the room in three giant steps before collapsing into her lap, legs straddling hers before I'm kissing her passionately on the lips.

"You did it," I murmur against her. "Holy shit, Elsa, you did it!"

Elsa can only nod as our lips continue to move against one another. We can taste each other's tears and I've never felt a kiss of such passion. My arms settle around her neck, and her left hand threads through my hair as she pushes me even closer.

"I can't wait until I can hold you," she utters, voice breaking, pulling away only briefly to show me another smug smile, never mind the tears cascading down her face.

Chuckling wetly, I kiss her forehead, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm so proud of you, baby."

"I wanted to surprise you," she tells me shyly.

"Well, you succeeded incredibly."

We kiss one final time before resting our foreheads against each other, twin smiles lighting up our faces, and hearts beating as one.

Stay tuned, guys! You do not want to miss what happens next in the conclusion to Sucker Punch!

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