AN: This was a tough one. I had an outline, but it grew well beyond that. Hopefully it has the right kind of impact.

Today has been hard, and not because of anything work related. Kristoff noticed, of course, asking me about it on the way home. I told him the part of the story we were up to, and he understood immediately. He'll get some things ready for me later. Things like blankets, and mugs of hot chocolate. It's going to be hard, reliving that morning. But I won't leave out the bad things. The painful things. I want Joan to see the whole story. I hope she understands why.

She should, she's a smart kid.

I wait until after dinner, when everything is calm. I knock on her door, and she calls out that it's open. She's on her laptop, and I can see Tina on the screen, who waves at me. I wave back.

"Story time?" That's Tina asking Joan.

Joan nods, ending the chat.

"This one is going to be heavy," I sit on the foot of Joan's bed, noticing that she hasn't changed it recently. "That morning was… well, I don't really have good words to describe everything. We talked about her dying, and about after. She told me things she was planning on doing. Some of it was shocking, and some of it was sweet. So much of it was her, and not wanting to hurt me."

"That kinda failed, I guess?"

"Maybe not in the way you're thinking, but yes. In the end, I still got hurt. So, so badly." I give Joan a little smile. It's the best I can manage right now. "But this time, it wasn't the end."

—∞—

We both agreed that I needed to do this. To confront each other in that moment when our walls were down, and we didn't want to run, or mask things with humour, or just hide and deflect everything away from the topic. No matter how much we might have wanted to. This was something we needed to talk about. More than anything.

I couldn't even bring myself to think of it.

I had just called it 'after'. Somehow, that was enough for us to understand.

So I just lay there, ignoring my alarm still going off. I knew Elsa was awake next to me. I had no idea if she'd gotten any sleep—just like me. I think she was just as scared as me, but better at hiding it. Or maybe it just showed less, because her hand was crushing mine beneath the covers. I turned to her, and she gave me a faltering smile. Neither of us was ready, but we still had to talk about it. I reached over to finally shut off my alarm.

"…fuck." I let the curse hang in the air, because I couldn't think of a single thing to ask. Or rather, I thought of everything to ask, all at once.

"I know it is bad," Elsa's voice was soft, slightly husky. "When you start by swearing at yourself."

"I don't know where to start," I waved my free hand under the covers, barely moving. "I don't know what to ask first. I'm scared."

"Scared of what, Anniken?"

"Scared of knowing. Of hearing you say it. I know it's real, and it's true, and there's nothing either of us can do about it, but I guess… I guess… fuck, I don't know. Maybe I was thinking it wouldn't impact us until later, when your treatments got more intense, or something. Trying so much to live in the now, and spend all this time with you. And sure, sometimes I'm thinking ahead a little bit, like with the Christmas presents, but usually, not my forté. Not that far ahead, and we both know it's not really that long either, and… and…"

I couldn't finish. She pulled me closer, and for a moment we just lay there.

"Maybe I should start with the part that is scariest for me?" I turned to face Elsa as she spoke, silent tears welling in her eyes. "Because I am sure it will break your heart."

I kissed her, then wiped away the tears.

"Because… after… I know I will be leaving behind a wife. A woman who has always loved me with all her heart, because she knew no other way. A wife who means the world to me, and who cannot follow where I have to go. Someone I am afraid might try, if I break her heart like that. Part of me feels even worse for what I have to say now—it is like lead inside my stomach—but I will not lie to my wife. When my sickness becomes too much, when caring for me is too difficult, I will be ending my own life."

I just stared at her, my face blank with shock. I wanted to hit her. I wanted to hug her. I wanted someone to tell us everything would be all okay. But I couldn't do anything.

"Anna?" I closed my eyes. I heard the pain in her voice. "Are you okay?"

I shook my head. I felt her pull me into a tight embrace. "I guess it must be a big shock, to hear your girlfriend—your future wife—admit such things."

I nodded, burying myself in her chest.

"I am not okay either," I felt it as she kissed the top of my head. How could you be okay, admitting that? "But that is why we are talking now."

I swallowed, blinking slowly. I moved back so I could stare into those bright blue eyes. I could only think of a single question: "How?"

"Quietly." The smallest hint of a smile tugged at her lips. Sad. Wistful. I only saw it because we were so close. "You would hold my hand. My last thoughts would be of you. I would not be sad, but calm. I hope. Yes. Calm. It would be like sleeping, I think."

I couldn't say anything. A thousand different protests ran through my mind, but she was so damned calm.

"I know you will want to stop me," she stopped to wipe the tears from my face. "And if I died, late at night, or while you were cleaning something up, or even—worst case—while you were out on errands. Or just when you weren't there. No. I can't do that to you. I know you would not forgive yourself for leaving me alone."

"Stinker!" I did hit her then. But I was so weak as great sobs wracked my body. I remember that part far too clearly. "You think you're sparing me, but you're not. It'll just be a lifetime of different regrets instead. Of wondering if we could have had just one more day. Of waiting for a miracle that never came. You can't do that to me. You can't. You… you… why?"

—∞—

"Mom?" I blink away tears as Joan looks up at me, trying to ask something.

"Yes?" I can't think of how else to answer.

"Did Elsa actually… did she really…" I can see how hard it is for her to ask this. She's afraid of the answer. Just like I was. "At the end, did… did she… do that?"

"It wasn't like that," I let out a heavy breath. "At the time, I thought she meant suicide as well, but she didn't. At least, not that way."

She frowns at me, lost, confused, a little sad, and still a little scared.

"We talked later, when she realised she hadn't answered my question. At least, not all of it. 'Assisted dying' was what she called it. In a hospital, and monitored by doctors. It was…" I can't say it right now, the memory of that last day flooding back. I wipe away a tear. "I can't relive that part, right now."

"It's okay, mom," Joan lets out breath. "Just thinking that Elsa might have been forced to… that you would have to… and… and… it would have taken so much strength."

"Even her way, it still did." I let the tears fall. "But I can't blame her. I knew how much she was suffering, and how much she didn't want to tell me about it."

Joan hugs me tight, tears welling up in her eyes. Then she hands me a pillow so I can keep hugging that while I try to remember where I left off.

—∞—

Elsa heard my protests, and what I couldn't say. She just accepted it. She spoke softly, trying to calm me, I think. She hugged me so tight I couldn't hear what she was saying anymore. So tight. I just wanted to live in that embrace forever.

"You are making me feel very bad for choosing this," her honesty and sudden vulnerability scared me. "Guilty, and ashamed. But I do not think it is wrong to want to die with some dignity, instead of having you say to turn off my life support. I know that decision will tear you apart."

I nodded slowly, meeting her eyes again.

She took a shaky breath. "And my mind is thinking that all the other ways it could happen are so much worse. If am dying in my sleep, and you wake up without me? Or perhaps I am just fading away, or more sick than normal, and you are not there. Or if you were out, shopping, or errands, or something. It scares me what you might do if that guilt fell on you. So I am trying to make it a little less sad. To give you some things you cannot be blaming yourself for."

She sighed, and I held her close as she began to weep. "Why does all this feel so heavy?"

"Because death is heavy." That part I understand all too well.

"You remember I was often at the hospital, early in our relationship?" I nodded. "It was not for physio. I was talking to a therapist on staff. They told me I had to—I had tried to kill myself, after all. I was depressed, after learning about my illness."

Who wouldn't be depressed by that? But I held my tongue. I think she knew what I wanted to say anyway.

"You came more often to visit. Then you nearly died, and I suddenly knew how you would have felt if I'd died. I realised that I couldn't do that to you. I wasn't going to. But then it was a different fear, because you are going to suffer that loss. I have some control—I can tell you when, and what we might face. But I can't take away that loss, and then I was asking her—my therapist—all about how to cope with everything. So she told me it shouldn't be alone. We—me and you—should be honest about… about… dying. Why is it so hard to admit this?"

"Because it's going to hurt. And it's just not fair." She looked at me again, silent tears streaking down her face. I pulled her close, ignoring my own tears. It really wasn't fair, and there was nothing either of us could do to change that.

Elsa's voice was quiet when spoke again. "I am saying everything I can—even about planning to end my life—on this morning so that we can face it together. We can know the challenges of my illness, and support each other through it. We can grieve, and mourn me before I am gone. Maybe it will help you later. After."

"I'm going love you until the day I die," I gave her a gentle headbutt. "And you think that's going to be enough?"

"No," she shook her head sadly. "Nothing will be enough. There will be a hole in your heart. One day, maybe you can love again. But I know this will not be easy. Before… before I can let you know my secrets. You will not have to wonder about me, after. You will know. And I have an idea… very old fashioned."

"What?" I looked at her, my interest piqued through the veil of sadness between us.

"I can write you some letters."

"Letters?" She'd lost me.

"For… after. I will have them delivered. Maybe on birthdays, or Christmas. Another memory of me, after I'm gone." I could see the tears in her eyes, matching my own. "A little piece of me for you to hold on. To keep you going. Because you are a stubborn bitch, and I am loving you for that too."

"I… I could write back. I know it sounds stupi—"

"It is not stupid," she kissed me again. "I think it is very sweet, but also very sad. But it is allowed to be both things, and I like that. It is like a story I was reading."

"A story?"

"A short story, one that I think hit too close to home for me. 'Story of your life'. I would like if you could read it, maybe it will help with understanding. It helped me, a little."

"You just said it hit too close…"

"I did not say it was wrong," she kissed me softly then. "Just the emotions I felt were intense."

"The story of your life…" I trailed off as something started coming together. "No, your life. You saved mine. I think that deserves some kind of statue. Or a monument. Or something."

"I don't want such things, being with you is enough for me."

"You… you wouldn't be able to stop me… after."

It was her turn to be stunned into silence. I could see it in her eyes. She'd thought about it, obviously. Some of the consequences. But not everything. There were things she was worried about me doing. Now it was clear there were things she hadn't considered me doing, or trying.

"I don't mean some huge thing in a city square," I pressed the point, teasing her now. "But a little statue somewhere. Or a fancy plaque on a building. Or maybe a family crypt—would that be too weird?"

"Perhaps," she admitted slowly. "But something small would not disturb me. After all, I would be dead—how could I say no?"

It took me far too long to figure that she actually was joking. "Oh, you bitch."

She laughed at me. "There are many things wrong with you, Anniken," but I saw her smile. "But your sense of humour is not one of them. And this morning has been so heavy in conversation. Was it wrong to want a break, for just a moment?"

"No," I shook my head. "No, it wasn't."

"Thank you." She smiled softly, then her face became lined with worry. "There is something I would like to ask you, but it is hard, and I know you don't want me to do it, but when it… when it's… when I am dying, I would like you to hold my hand, and kiss me."

I swallowed hard. "Why would that be so hard?"

"Because I would like you to say something, and it maybe won't make sense."

"What?"

"Say 'this is not goodbye, this is just a kiss before you die'."

I gave her a suspicious look before replying. "That is… oddly specific."

"It is from a song," that made a lot more sense to me. "A rock band, singing about a dying friend. I can play it for you later."

"I'd like that," I smiled, and leaned in to kiss her. "It means a lot to you. I can do that. But you have to promise me you'll hold on as long as you can."

She swallowed. "As long as I can—but I still have to be able to make that decision."

I let out a heavy breath. "I can't take that from you. I hate it. But I won't take it away from you. It still scares me though, Elsa. Knowing that scares me. I'm not even sure I have words for how much it scares me."

"It scares me too." She looked away for moment. "But it is strange, because it is not the dying that scares me. It is the leaving you behind, alone. I wish you had more friends you could share with; to ease the burden."

"So do I…" I trailed off, not sure how to continue.

"I have a living will, just in case."

I stared at her. I wasn't sure how that was relevant.

"In case something happens to me before the end. It has instructions and conditions about whether or not to try reviving me. Where my estate is to go. Details to tie up online stuff so it doesn't get charged forever. Things like that."

"That kind of sounds like a regular will to me."

"It mostly is—but the parts about medical care make it a living will."

"Oh. So…"

"Most of my assets will be going to you, obviously. Money will go into a trust, in case you ever have children. There's provision for you to use that in an emergency, but I hope you never need to."

"Elsa?"

"Yes, Anniken?"

I pulled her into a tight hug, not letting go. She knew I wasn't okay. I knew the same was true for her. "I just want to stay here with you today, can we do that?"

"Of course." I felt her nestle into my body. "It is Sunday. I think we could stay here until tomorrow."

"I love you, Elsa." I whispered into her ear. "I always will."

"Your love for me could change the world, Anna." She kissed me, then nestled down again. "It already changed mine."

—∞—

"Mom?" Joan is staring up at me, tears in her eyes too. "Are you okay?"

I shake my head. There's a lot of memories coming back. Not just from that day, but from the very end. I kept all those promises, but that day still destroyed me. It's not easy remembering those things.

I find my voice eventually. "I'll need some time. And cuddles. And some hot chocolate too."

"I think I need some time too," she brushes away her tears. "I need to talk with Tink. Then maybe I'll join you for that hot chocolate."

I stop in the hallway, just outside her door. "If you need me or dad before then, you know where we'll be."

"I'll be okay until then. I promise." She smiles at me, just a little.

"I will be too," I give her the best smile I can manage, and wipe away my own tears. "The memories are painful—but they're not bad."

"They're not?"

"It's grief. And grief is just love that has nowhere else to go."

"That's pretty heavy."

"It's something doctor Spiros told me, much later. After…"

I let out a shaky breath. My emotions are running high, and I need someone to talk to. I need somebody to snuggle under some blankets with. I just want him to tell me it'll be okay. He will. I head down the stairs, moving slowly, tears blurring my vision.

For a moment—an instant—I see you at the bottom of the stairs.

But it's not you. It can't be.

It's him, holding out a steaming mug of hot chocolate, and with a blanket draped over his shoulder like a cape. He kisses me softly, on the cheek. Then he guides me to the couch.

"You can just sit there," he wraps the blanket around me while I hold my arms up to stop the hot chocolate from spilling. "I'll take care of you."

And he does.

It doesn't make me happy. Just less sad. But tonight, that's enough.