a/n: since no one has suggested anything yet, i'm going it alone with this chapter. I am looking for OCs, so if you want them to be in this, please let me know! Frozen was a big inspiration for this chapter, especially Do You Want to Build a Snowman?

To nostalgicCyanide: I do have a plot in mind and this is a post-apocalyptic AU.

Chapter 2

Katarina glanced at the clock on her radio. The tinny radio broadcaster was doing his nightly rounds of reading those who were killed, injured or missing during the latest riots. She'd get a mini heart attack whenever she thought she heard a name she recognized.

"The professor hasn't come home yet." She sighed, rubbing her eyes. Glancing over, she realized that Flora was already asleep.

The young lady got up and moved to the window. Peering out through the heavy curtains, she saw people shouting at each other. There was not a single automobile driving on the usually busy street in front of their flat. She could see a group of homeless people arguing. One of them turned and looked at her right in the eye. Quickly, Katarina closed the curtains.

She moved to her bedside lamp, switching it off so that the room was in complete darkness. Letting her guard down, she relaxed and sat on her small bed. An urgent voice interrupted the calm.

"Attention! We've received reports of a riot going on at Gressenheller University! No one has been confirmed dead but several students and staff alike are reported injured. If you live in the area, stay inside and lock your doors! I repeat, stay inside and lock your doors!"

Katarina felt her blood run cold. The professor was still there, grading papers. What if he was injured? What were they supposed to do? She couldn't go and help him. She had to stay with Flora and even if she went, they would kill her within minutes. She couldn't rely on Clive either, who had taken to staying locked up in his bedroom all day.

"It's worth asking him." She murmured to herself, putting on her jacket and shoes. Heading down the halls, she stopped in front of his bedroom door. She started to knock but stopped herself. He's not going to answer to me.

The young lady had moved into the professor's flat only weeks before when danger started to near her home. She came home from the market one day to find her shop front completely vandalized with slurs written all over the only windows that weren't broken. Her off and on relationship with Clive grew even worse when the young man decided to cut himself off from the rest of his family and friends.

"Clive?" She summoned up all her courage and knocked on his door. He's not going to answer.

After a long pause, she knocked again. "I need you to help me." She admitted, biting her lip. What she meant to say was: "I need your help to save the professor." What she meant was "I need you."

There was a moment of nothing before the door unlocked. Clive appeared at the doorway, looking as sleep-deprived and exhausted as ever. His clothes were incredibly wrinkled and soiled, revealing how much weight he'd lost over the past few weeks and he stunk like he hadn't taken a shower in weeks, which was probably the case.

"What do you want, Katarina?" He said, his eyes and voice as sharp as daggers. It scared her the way he spoke her name now.

"There's a riot going on at Gressenheller and the professor might be in the middle of it. I need to help him." She replied, trying to seem calm and in control. "I'd rather not go alone."

Clive's hard expression faded into one of fear. "This is all my fault."

She frowned, about to protest before she realized what he was talking about. Maybe it was his fault that there was a giant, gaping hole in the middle of London that still wasn't completely repaired. Maybe it was his fault with all the political turmoil surrounding Bill Hawks's reappearance and all of the rumors surrounding it. The things that Clive did would not be so easily forgotten or resolved no matter how much time he had done in prison. But this was his chance to fix it all.

"Yes, it is your fault and there's no use sugarcoating it." She admitted while grabbing his jacket off the rusting doorknob. "Please, Clive. You wanted to atone for your crimes. Here's your chance."

His dark, bloodshot eyes locked with hers for a few moments. After a moment of suffocating silence, he took the navy blue jacket from her with trembling hands. The effects of these horrible events were easy to see in his hopeless eyes and the faint stubble that ran up his jaw.

"No one else will get hurt. Right?" He asked, looking her dead in the eyes. "Promise me that."

She bit her lip. That would be a promise guaranteed to be broken.

"Right."