Part 2.
VII. Your Frozen Heart
The next five years had held interesting changes.
Unwilling to accept Elsa's decision, or the guilt levied upon him by his friends, Jack took on the personification of persistence. At least once a day for a whole month he would knock on her door, pleading for a chance to explain. He would stop her in the college halls, text her at all hours, call her at the most inconvenient times. He would stop her friends, and ask them to hear him out.
No-one did.
Elsa had blocked his phone number and blocked his Facebook account. She ignored him in college, choosing to walk past without paying him a single glance. She refused to answer the door, even when he sat on her doorstep for three hours. It hurt too much to talk to him. The man she trusted almost as much as Anna, who had seen her through her hardest times - had stolen and pawned her mother's ring. She was betrayed, heartbroken, made to feel like the biggest idiot on the planet.
He had even waited at her car, the final time they ever interacted. Eager to return home and rest, to get away from the prospect of being accosted for the thousandth time, Elsa found herself stopped by an errant arm thrust out by Astrid.
"Dude just doesn't give up," she growled.
Hiccup proved himself to be the moral centre of the group, and the only one willing to give Jack the benefit of the doubt. "He's only doing what I would do. He's fighting."
Astrid then grunted her disagreement, and made a motion to stride over to where Jack was as he stared in hope at Elsa, but was stopped before she even began - by Elsa herself.
"I don't need defending, Astrid, by man or woman alike. I will see to this, once and for all."
Without giving her time to respond, Elsa marched to meet Jack - whose initial expression of happy surprise morphed into uncertain fear once he caught her stormy glare.
"Elsa, I-just want to talk…"
"No, Jack," she said with raw, stern anger, "you had a chance to be honest a month ago, and you lied to my face. You and I-not that there is a 'you and I'-have nothing to discuss."
Bereft of courage and the ability to speak, he stammered, "But-"
"Let me be clear - I have not called the authorities because I want to put this behind me, and frankly, there is no point. However if you continue to harass me and my friends, I will have no choice but to seek a restraining order. I never want to hear from you again." She took a threatening step toward him. "Is that crystal clear?"
Her mother once told her that eyes tell the story of the soul, and it was no more true in the moment she, under her cold gaze, watched Jack's soul crush itself into oblivion. The cheeky glint and hopeful light in his icy blues died and his entire body sagged as his courage abandoned him. He turned and left for the bus, taking one moment to look over his shoulder.
And had her heart not been frozen to cope with the pain, it would have fallen apart at the sheer defeat on his face.
He's a liar, a voice in her head reminded her. Let him go.
And sure enough, that was the last they spoke.
VIII. Moving On?
There were other changes over the five years. Jack would walk past her in the halls, and pretend she did not exist. Ostracised by their group of friends, he sat alone, walked alone, studied alone. Even Hiccup, who was still unconvinced of his guilt, did not associate himself with him - though that was more than likely due to Astrid's insistence that to do so would be a further betrayal of Elsa.
Every time the faintest regret blossomed in her heart, causing her to debate opening a dialogue, her mind quashed it with a reminder he brought it upon himself.
The other change came in human form - hearing of the breakup, Hans had knocked on her door and gave her his number, with the suggestion that day or night, if she needed anything, she could call him. Still grieving her relationship, Elsa offered little more than brisk gratitude and closed the door.
Nine months after that, at Anna's suggestion she should forget about Jack and get back into the dating scene, Elsa and Hans began dating. Any guilt her heart felt, especially when Jack saw them walking hand in hand through the college halls, and when she embraced Hans and planted a gleeful kiss on his lips at their graduation ceremony was rationalised by her mind that if Jack lied about stealing the ring, it wasn't a stretch to assume he probably cheated on her, too. Hans even gained Astrid's approval, with her stating Elsa needed someone mature and responsible.
Yet, as the years passed by, marked by the occasions of their relationship becoming serious, her successful application to an architectural firm, Hans' recruitment into Arendelle's prominent news agency and their engagement and marriage, her heart refused to give in. A little voice in her chest that spoke of innocence, that the guilt was not Jack's to bear. A seed of doubt that often kept her awake at night, wondering what might have been.
What if Jack truly was innocent, it often asked. What if you made a mistake?
No matter how much she tried to ignore it, no matter how hard she tried not to imagine the man proposing to her, sleeping with her, marrying her and whose house she moved into, had white hair rather than auburn, blue eyes instead of green, and a cheeky smirk in place of a lipped one. Her head would often remind her that she chose Hans, and that any yearnings or regrets she had were simply down to how much in love she was with Jack, and how the wound had never truly healed.
Her heart would then, without fail, retort with a question: if she had been in love with Jack, what was it she had with Hans? She was oddly reluctant to give herself fully to the relationship, his kisses were possessive rather than tender; instead of explosive, the intimacy wasn't nearly as satisfying-
(...and there was an odd compulsion to ensure her contraceptives were working at full potential, and she religiously took the morning after pill for good measure.)
-and he wasn't able to make her laugh as loud, or as long. Gloomy moments lasted for far longer than they used to, and often she found herself under the weather for no apparent reason. Contact with her friends occurred not nearly as often as she'd like, though she rationalised that as a simple case of them getting on with their own lives, and though Anna did her best, there was the strangest sensation of loneliness in her heart despite being married. Her heart often asked her: if you are married to Hans but aren't in love with him, aren't you lying to him?
To yourself?
It was a question that, under the impeccably composed outer facade, was driving her insane.
So, when Hans received a job offer from one of the prominent news networks in Washington DC, a job that rendered impossible the idea of commuting, she quickly accepted his suggestion they permanently move from Arendelle City. She knew she could easily get a job in one of DC's architectural firms, so maybe she could finally move on with her life and leave the past where it was meant to be - in the past.
It was a good thought - until, on the penultimate night of their move, she ran into a certain old flame - and the seed of doubt blossomed into a full-blown sapling.
IX. Concerning Expensive Slushies
In celebration of their impending move, and to honour their final days in the city that had seen them grow into responsible adults, Hans had booked a table at Oaken's Restaurant, the most luxury establishment in the city. He had not invited Anna, or the rest of their group, citing that he wanted it to be an intimate affair - and it was, but Elsa missed her companions… especially one. Even though the food was as marvellous as expected, the wine was delicious, and the stunning, low-cut, floor-length black sequined dress that showed off every curve, accentuated her cleavage and turned practically every head in the restaurant, she couldn't escape the disheartened sensation. Behind her smiles, it felt like her heart wasn't in it.
Which was why, when Hans suggested they should return home and get an early night for the packing tomorrow, she agreed without hesitation. Bill paid, waiter tipped, she had to hold herself back from jogging out of the door.
(which would have ended in hilarious disaster in those heels.)
As they walked back to his car, Hans had immediately launched into a one-sided conversation about how amazing it was that his photographic skills and talent in image editing had been recognised - which should have set off a battleship's worth of alarm bells had Elsa not been so wrapped up in her self doubt, staring at the ground. It was when she heard a familiar voice from up ahead, the inimitably endearing scratchy quality that she looked up.
There he was, walking side by side next to a brunette woman with razor-sharp bangs across her forehead, clutching a large green slushie. Before she could look away, their eyes met - and five years had changed him. His body had filled out slightly, and the smirk adorning his lips the second before it dropped like a stone looked… wiser. He was the first to look away, his expression barely fluctuating from 'indifferent', and he drew himself to his full height as they walked past each other. Hans' arm snaked itself around her lower back and pulled her closer to him - a regular occurrence whenever they walked past someone of the male sex.
Don't you dare turn around, her mind warned her.
"Is that...?" she heard the woman whisper, a few seconds before she felt the tapping of fingers on her left shoulder, causing her to automatically turn around...
...and feel the freezing bite of a large green slushie as it was thrust in her face. Shrieking in shock, her entire body went rigid as the chilly, icy substance slid down her face and neck, pooled in her cleavage and mingled with her impeccable French braid. Her breathing came thick and fast, and she shivered from the nipping of green ice and the winter wind.
"Oh my God!" she shouted in a high pitched voice, her hands scrambling to wipe the substance from her eyes. She actually liked that dress. "Why did you-"
It was when she could see past the liquid dripping down her forehead, she realised who her assailant was - and it wasn't Jack. Hazel eyes glared pure fire at her, silencing any protests in the Westergard woman's throat. An empty slushy cup was clutched in one white knuckled hand, and her jaw was clenched to the point her muscles could easily be seen.
"Come on, Emma," Jack said, tugging at her arm. She shrugged him away - and Elsa could only stand and watch in open-mouthed surprise. Emma. His younger sister. She looked so different.
So enraged.
"That was a nine dollar mango and passion fruit slushy. I bought that after the movies, and I was gonna drink it all the way home where I was gonna drink more while watching Netflix with my bro." Emma took two steps forward so she was almost nose-to-nose with Elsa. Her voice dropped to a low, vengeful snarl. "But it was worth every cent to throw it in the face of the woman that ruined my brother's life."
"How dare you-"
Hans was silenced by a single look, however Emma was notorious for never doing things by half. "One more word out of you, and I swear, you'll be eating this cup."
She looked back at Elsa and gave her the slowest once-over in existence, and the lip-curled contempt that radiated from her eyes and dripped from each of the four words she then spoke, could be bottled, packaged and used to burn a hole in steel.
"I hope you're happy."
Jack tugged at his sister's arm again. "C'mon, Emma. They're not worth it."
Emma turned away, and resumed her journey with Jack, but not before uttering something that rhymed suspiciously with the word 'itch'. Stunned, shivering from the cold and feeling like she had been slapped in the face - Emma likely would have made that feeling a reality - she watched them walk away from her.
And the doubt only grew...because she wasn't sure she was happy.
X. Come Crashing Down
The night granted no peaceful slumber to the weary Elsa's troubled soul, nor did the shower she took before bed to wash away the sticky vengeance bless her with comfort. While Hans had laid fast asleep - Elsa had invoked the 'headache excuse' to avoid intimacy, further adding ammunition for her heart to use against her - Elsa slept little, staring at the darkened ceiling whilst her mind ticked over. She could recall the breakup with astounding clarity, recall the threat at the car with tangible vividness, and Emma's first words to her in five years stuck to her mind like frost to a window.
And her mind, second only to Astrid in its belief Jack was guilty, was unnervingly silent.
Sleep eluded her, an oddly convenient reason for her distance when Hans quizzed her over it at the breakfast table.
She barely responded when he planted a quick kiss on her cheek before heading out to his last day at work - and the temptation to spend her day off in bed rather than finish the packing was all too seductive.
Still, it needed to be done, and she knew there was no way she could truly see if she moved on without getting on with it.
So, after two mugs of black coffee strong enough to wake the dead, she had fixed her braid into a bun and threw herself into the last room in need of clearing - the bedroom. Thanks to her diligence in packing what she could whenever her time was free, there was little left needed to be packed away, with the closet as the last remaining place to be emptied. Opening the white, intricate lattice doors, she elected to start from the top shelf where various knick-knacks had been collected over the years, from her toy snowman Olaf to her charm bracelet Hans bought her for Christmas a year ago. Worn once; never since.
It was when she blindly feathered her fingertips over the shelf once every other item had been packed away - she swore those closets were made for those fortunate enough to be tall - to ensure nothing was left that the nail of her right middle finger brushed against a small, wooden object in the furthest right corner. With no small amount of finagling, and the presence of their wedding photograph album as a stepping stool, Elsa retrieved the mysterious object - a small, nondescript mahogany box no bigger than a necklace case.
She frowned in curiosity - she had no knowledge of the box, and Hans had never mentioned anything about it. Her fingers had immediately prepared to open it when a voice reminded her of the last time she searched someone's belongings without prior consent… but then again, one of Elsa's stipulations before she agreed to take the Westergard name was that there would be no secrets between them. She bit her lip, gazing at the box while she decided which way to jump.
She took a breath, and opened it. Inside lay a small piece of paper folded three times - what could possibly be so important about this paper that warranted such a secluded hiding spot?
She plucked the paper from its place of secrecy and tossed the box away, and with fingers that gently trembled both out of anticipation and an odd sense of foreboding, she unfolded it.
Her lungs drew a sharp, ragged gasp through the hand that she had clamped over her mouth. Her heart stalled in her chest, and searing heat dried her widening eyes.
It was the receipt for a pawnbroker's shop.
For a silver ring with a heart-shaped ruby.
Signed by one Hans Westergard.
XI. What Have I Done?
The next hour was spent by Elsa, as she huddled her knees to her chest in the corner of the shower cubicle, in a state of complete numbness. Oblivious to the watery remnants of Hans' morning shower reducing the seat of her black pants to a sodden mess, she stared with glazed, tear-spilled eyes at an invisible spot on the floor. Her rage, grief, agony of heartbreak and feelings of betrayal had crashed together with such force, not in the least helped by the mild freaking out she endured upon realising the truth, that she felt nothing but a damning, pervasive cold…
...and all-encompassing guilt.
Hans was the one who pawned the ring.
Hans was the one who stole the ring.
Hans was the one whose mouth spewed out lie after lie after lie that she fell for; hook, line and sinker. Her hand, trembling with shock, moved up to cover her mouth in the hopes of stopping the wave of nausea - she felt like the biggest idiot on the planet. He knew Jack was innocent. He knew Elsa was making a mistake by letting her doubt get the better of her, and fed that doubt with lies and false sympathy. Every mistake she made could be traced back to the moment in the parking lot where he acted the part of an awkward, uncertain informant. She kissed the lips, held the hands, was intimate with, said 'yes' to and married the very man that ruined-
The hand clenched into a loose fist, and her throat collapsed in on itself. No. He didn't ruin her relationship with Jack. Sure, he gave her the gasoline, but it was she that took the fuel, doused her love with Jack in it and burned it to ashes. She allowed the doubt to grow, she was the one who disbelieved him, broke up with him, hurt, broke and threatened him.
"Oh, Jack," she croaked behind her hand. "What have I done?"
Her mind, second only to Astrid in the advocacy of Jack's guilt remained silent under the torrent of abuse hurled at it by the shattered remnants of her heart.
You know exactly what you've done. You destroyed the best thing in your life next to Anna, and for what? Five years of lies? A marriage built on a foundation of deceit, resting on the ashes of your true love? You were never happy with Hans, and you were lying to yourself. He 'suggested' what you wore, the makeup you applied, the food you ordered… and you let him. I told you so.
I. Told. You. So.
I TOLD YOU SO.
Why, Elsa?
Why… that was the question. Why did Hans steal the ring? What possessed him to engineer the downfall of Jack, who did nothing to deserve it?
The hand ceased its trembling. Her eyes lost their glazed look, and were replaced by a steely resolve that marched through the crowded room of her emotions, pushed aside the rage and grief and said, "I'm here. Use me."
She needed to make sense of it all. She needed to find out why Hans framed Jack for the theft, why he lied to her. Why she threw away years of happiness over a photograph, and a ring. No more would she be deceived.
She would have the truth.
XII. Warpaint
The next forty-five minutes was spent returning herself to who she was before she involved herself with him. Gone were the overly flashy and expensive clothes, and the makeup choices she went along with in the hopes of finding love again. Strength returned to her mind and heart, a redoubtable resolve that chased away the self-hate and the weakness. Back was the makeup style she wore in college; light pink blusher, faint purple eye shadow with astounding eyelashes, and full, plum lips. Back were the leather jacket and yoga pants… her inner strength had returned to her.
Once ready, two texts were sent. The first went to Anna, requesting that she visit as soon as humanly possible. When she had finally arrived not twenty-five minutes later, her reaction to Elsa's look was a stunned, "Wow, you look...different. It's a good different!"
In spite of her pain, Elsa voiced her gratitude and offered a small smile, before suggesting she hide in the living room to watch the show.
The second was sent to Hans, and in a strangely satisfying irony, it contained the same four words she mistakenly sent to Jack - "We need to talk."
It was no surprise Hans then returned home as soon as he legally could, and burst through the door with an expression of deep worry on his face. His bag had barely hit the ground before he was striding toward her, stood at the kitchen table with her arms folded. When he asked breathlessly, "What's wrong?" and moved to embrace her, she vetoed it with a simple shake of her head - and a fury etched on her face that was so cold, she was the epitome of calm.
Turning, she took the closest seat and stared up at him, her expression unchanged. "Elsa, what's the matter? Talk to me, please," he asked.
Her response was little more than a gesture with her eyes to the chair on the other side of the table. Hans turned to look at it, and back at her. "Come on, honey. This is my last day at work, why won't you talk to me?"
She lifted her chin. Hans let out a defeated sigh, and took the hint by seating himself.
"So, you gonna talk to me?"
Elsa said nothing. She stared at him, barely blinking.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, but the colour draining from his cheeks was slowly becoming more obvious.
Without uttering a sound, Elsa took the receipt from her pocket and unfolded it before she placed it on the table. Slowly, with two fingers she slid the paper from her to him, before relaxing back into her chair and folding her arms. Frowning, Hans picked up the paper and skimmed its contents… and in the space of a second, his face went whiter than Jack's hair. He looked up at her with fear, and launched into a volley of excuses, pitiful attempts to deflect the blame away from him onto Jack. "He must have planted it in the house," was her favourite slice of bull. "He must have broken in and planted it." With each passing second, his insults to her intelligence enraged her - yet her face betrayed no such fire, save for a narrowing of her eyes.
Her silence was deafening, and as the minutes dragged on, its heaviness crushed Hans' will and sealed his defeat. She watched his shoulders sag and his head lower itself, and listened to him as he finally told the truth.
He was jealous. Elsa was not interested in him or his advances, preferring to pursue a dating relationship with Jack. He felt slighted, worthless, that such a beautiful, rich and intelligent woman like her was not attracted to him in any way. He wanted her for himself, envious of Jack and bewildered as to why such an 'immature', carefree, fun-loving man could be so lucky as to score her interest and love. He resolved to himself that he would have her no matter what, so he waited, and waited, until the ideal opportunity.
An opportunity that presented itself at the party. Anna, in her heavily drunken state, was loudly lamenting that their parents would not be there to witness her first day at college, wailing and sobbing into Kristoff's shoulder. Whilst he tried not to listen, Anna accidentally mentioned a priceless, sentimental ring that was the last remaining physical connection to their beloved mother. It was at that moment Hans' intent to frame Jack was formed.
He did indeed see Jack, but he was coming out of the bathroom and not the bedroom. Once his white-haired rival was out of sight and after ensuring there were no other witnesses, Hans carefully searched her bedroom for, found and stole the ring. He subtly implied Jack's culpability in the parking lot, and to reinforce her doubts and cause her to end their relationship, photoshopped a photograph of Jack entering the college campus onto the photograph of a pawnbroker's. He knew that, plagued by doubt and suspicion, Elsa's standards of evidence would be a hell of a lot lower than normal… and when he succeeded in breaking up their relationship, manoeuvred himself into position for her affections.
As for the receipt, he had kept it to remind himself how he beat Jack.
"Please," he stammered, fear and loss in his voice, "you have to understand, I did it because I lov-"
Elsa held up a hand, and he was immediately silenced. He stole from her. He lied to her. She couldn't stand to hear his voice, let alone hear him utter the word 'love'. She believed every word of his explanation, but refused to think he loved her.
("Love… is putting someone else's needs before yours," Anna once said. Hans placed his needs above hers.)
With her other hand, she pulled the wedding ring from her finger and placed it next to the discarded receipt.
Then, with the weight of her icy anger and immovable resolve etched into her words in the way they barely increased in pitch, she spoke.
"Here is what is going to happen, Mr. Westergard. You will return to work, during which time, I am going to petition for divorce."
He opened his mouth to protest, ostensibly with some lame attempt to get her to reconsider. He was silenced once again by a simple hand.
"When you return here from work, I will not be here, and neither will my belongings. I will not be taking any items you bought for me, nor will I be keeping the Westergard name. When you leave for DC tomorrow, you will do so alone." She rose like an elegant, unfurling flower from her chair. "When I walk out of the door, you will never see me again. Is that clear?"
Hans looked at her with defeated eyes, as she leaned with feathered fingers onto the table, and slowly nodded.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to try and make right a mistake I made five years ago. Goodbye, Mr. Westergard."
Without a further word, she left the house and strode over to her car.
It was once she was alone, wrapped in the safety of its four doors that the wall of icy composure built to see her through the confrontation, to ensure Hans did not see her bleed, finally broke.
Her eyes clamped shut as tears pooled and fell down her cheeks, and the trembles returned to her hands as she loosely covered her mouth. It was a useless attempt to stifle the wracking sobs bursting forth, but then again, it wasn't supposed to. For what felt like an eternity, Elsa cried and wept, grieving a relationship she murdered and a waste of five years. She could have had it all, but she threw it away on a lie.
"I'm so sorry, Jack," she managed to force out in a broken tremor, "please, please forgive me…"
XIII. Shoe, Foot, Medicine
As it turned out, Jack had moved from his apartment. Elsa's momentary flash of terror at the door, once it was opened by a tall, slender man with vivid auburn hair named Nick, was remedied by the agonisingly slow explanation from the building's superintendent Flash who was luckily passing by at the time.
She learned Jack had moved out of the apartment three years beforehand to a house on the outskirts of the city, and was sharing it with his sister. Not only that, he had achieved his dream job of teaching at Arendelle Elementary - the same school they both attended in their youth - and in case Flash needed anything, Jack left his address.
A hopeful Elsa had practically snatched the paper out of the super's hand and yelled her gratitude as she ran out of the building.
Which led to her hesitating at Jack's door, with her knuckles hovering over the blue wood. What would he say? How would he react? Five years was a long time… maybe his anger had faded. He had a right to be furious… but she was wide open to him. His words could crush her. Then again, she wondered if she deserved it.
She took a deep breath and figured the only way to know for sure was to face the music - and three loud raps resonated from the door.
Ten seconds elapsed before the door swung open, and the face belonging to Emma dropped from a youthful smile to a ferocious glare, not unlike the one she wore the day before. Elsa felt her resolve tremble under the searing gaze.
"You've got a lotta nerve showing your face here after what you did to my brother, Elsa," she said in a low, menacing voice.
"I know. I know I have no right to-"
Emma folded her arms and leaned on her left hip. "You get three seconds to tell me what you want before I knock your ass on the sidewalk."
"Who is it, Em?" Jack's voice echoed from inside the house. Elsa felt her heart leap - how was it he could still do that after so long?
"Your ex-girlfriend," Emma called over her shoulder. Her words stung more than Elsa knew they would.
Jack's voice came back muted, and flat. "What does she want?"
"I just want to talk!" Elsa blurted out before thinking. "Please, just give me five minutes!"
"He doesn't want to talk to you-"
"Em."
"But she-"
Jack appeared at Emma's other shoulder, and rested a calming hand upon it. Elsa watched him look down into his sister's eyes, conviction radiating from them.
"Em," he said with finality, "I got this."
Emma took one last glare at Elsa before, with an air of deep reluctance, leaving them alone. Jack pulled the door closed behind him, though Elsa didn't hear it click.
Elsa opened and closed her mouth a few times before, her brain undergoing a temporary four-oh-four error, she came out with the lamest thing to say. "She's very protective, it seems."
Her heart rolled its eyes and groaned.
Jack quirked his lips, whilst he shrugged. "Yeah, well, it's kinda been us against the world."
She looked away. It was like her brain had failed her, leaving naught but a blank slate. As she drove to his house, she imagined herself speaking with a hell of a lot more eloquence, confidence, apologising more than there were stars in the night sky… but in that moment, under his hard gaze, she was speechless. Her courage had abandoned her… and for a few seconds, she seriously debated fleeing.
"Why did you come here, Elsa?"
Her eyes returned to his, instantly rooting her to the spot. Oh, how she missed those icy blues and the little snowflake pattern around his pupils. Eyes that once looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world, and then in fear. "I… know the truth," she murmured weakly.
Jack's eyebrows climbed into his hair. His face told a story of innocent curiosity, yet the folding of his arms, thinning of his lips and hardening of his eyes sang a different tune. "And what truth would that be?"
Damn him. He was going to make her say it. "You… know-"
"No, I don't." Jack ducked slightly so their eyes were level. "I wanna hear you say it."
Damn it. Why was it so hard to speak? Why did it feel so impossible to say the words, 'I was wrong'? Could it be she couldn't admit it, or was she afraid of what he would say afterwards?
"Come on," he said in his characteristic scratchy tone, void of its laid-back vibe and full of anger… and mockery. "I wanna hear how the most intelligent woman I ever knew believed everyone else over the dude that loved her."
"I…" she forced out in a faint murmur, "was wrong."
His voice rose a step in volume, and turned his ear toward her. "Wrong about what?"
"About… everything."
Sarcasm joined the menace. "Oh, 'everything', do you mean believing a fake photograph, a prejudiced buddy and a guy whose major was in journalism over the guy who loved you?"
Elsa stayed quiet. She had to be the shore upon which the waves of his fury, his pain would crash. She knew she had to take it, as he needed the catharsis. Yet, under his gaze of injustice and betrayal, her strength was barely keeping herself together.
"The guy who lost his girlfriend to that lie, whose friends-" he practically spat the word in his sneer, "-turned their backs on him? Does that define 'everything?', hmm?"
Her gaze fell, and a quiet, "Yes," was said. "Jack, I'm so sorry-"
Jack blurted an incredulous snort. "S-sorry?" He stared at her, disbelief radiating from his icy blues. The hard tone vanished from his voice, leaving behind a vibe of sorrow. "You know, after you threatened me with the cops, for the longest time I thought I actually did it. Maybe I stole the ring and pawned it, but was so drunk I couldn't remember. I actually thought I betrayed you in the worst way, and I remember feeling like I lost the love of my life, and all my friends… for something I didn't remember doing. I used to lay awake at night thinking… just how is my life gonna get better? How do I get through each day without your hugs, kisses… heck, your smile…what was the point?"
Pausing, there came the sound of breath as it was exhaled through his nose. Elsa blinked hard to keep her eyes from flooding, feeling her throat clench as her heart writhed in pain. It must have been terrible for him, accused of a crime he didn't commit, losing everyone who ever cared about him - and she was the one who caused it.
She no longer felt like the biggest idiot on the planet… but the smallest.
Jack spoke again, yet the sorrow had made way for resolve and conviction. Her heart, mind and soul braced themselves.
"But then I remembered - I was innocent. There was no reason I should feel guilty. And if everyone, my 'girlfriend' included, thought I should be alone-then so be it. I didn't need them. I didn't need you-"
Elsa felt like a knife was gutting her.
"-so I learned to get by on my own. I learned that the only people I could rely on and trust were myself and my sister. So… in a way, I have to thank you, Elsa."
She looked up at him. He gazed coldly down on her.
"You gave me independence."
His words, stubborn in their finality, administered a lethal blow that cast a shadow of silence between them. Try as she might, once her eyes fell there was no chance of returning his gaze - lest her body be encased in ice. A single tear slipped down her left cheek from reddened eyes, and her lower lip trembled.
"Why did you come here, Elsa?"
She didn't know - or rather, she did. An irresistible pull, a need to tell him the truth. Or was it to see his face?
"Was it for forgiveness?" he said. "Well, I'm sorry, but you wasted your time. I never lied to you before, and I'm not about to start now."
He lowered himself to her level. He stared into her eyes, and she knew he witnessed her guilt and regret in the pooling liquid under her aquamarine blues. There would be no forgiveness.
"Goodbye, Elsa."
Three seconds later, she felt the rush of air, and heard the thud of the door being slammed in her face.
Lost, she turned around and left for her car… and once she closed the driver's side door behind her, the dam broke and her grief poured forth.
So that was what he felt like when she shut him out.
unrelated trivia: I'm cooking up some Jelsa smut. Not as part of this. Standalone oneshot.