It's been a week. A whole week since I told Joan any of our story. Yes, I did need a few days to recover emotionally. Work has been hectic, getting that new machine built for Al. Naveen asked us to install another guard system around an old machine, replacing the swing-out doors with counterweighted lifting doors, because there's less space around it now, after the plant had to move some machinery to start on another production line.

It's not just work. Belle came over to visit one afternoon. She's starting to show a little bit now. Asking all sorts of questions, and I try to give her honest but reassuring answers. I'm not sure it works as well as I'd hoped, but it seems to calm her down. She's worried about Adam too, who is settling into his new place just fine, but hasn't bought any more furniture yet, beyond his bed, an armchair, and little chair to use in the breakfast nook in his new kitchen. I recall that most of the furniture we moved was practical; a table, chest of drawers, a couple of cabinets. There's an old beanbag seat for her, Belle tells me, and while it is very comfortable, she would prefer an actual chair.

"And have you told him that?"

"Once or twice," she leans back into the couch. "But I know his rent's higher than we thought, so it doesn't leave him much after food and other bills. I don't have that much after study costs either. Dad helps me, but I don't want to lean on him."

"Maurice," I smile and shake my head. "You know he'd move the Earth for you if you asked?"

"He'd try," she laughs softly. "But that's also why I don't want to go to him for help. I want to do this on my own. Or, with me and Adam. It's just… it's hard."

"I feel like you already know what you want to do, you just want someone to listen while you vent."

She turns and frowns at me. "That is strangely insightful, coming from you."

"I'll take it as a compliment." I laugh softly. "Besides, you know what my solutions are usually like."

"Well, they do work," she admits, laughing. "More than you think. But you're also right. I just want to be heard right now."

I pull my legs up onto the couch, sitting cross-legged beside her. It's easier to fit under the blanket that way. She smiles at that, and I gesture for to keep talking.

So that was another afternoon spent. Then Joan went to visit Tina. Then Bex—speaking of, I still need to ask about how all of that went, though it would seem to have gone well. And now, like I said, we're a week later. I swear, it feels like the older I get, the faster time goes by.

After dinner, and I'm sprawled across the couch, a blanket haphazardly thrown across me. Kristoff is washing up. Joan is lazing in the armchair to the side, and I can just see her playing with her phone, not really watching the TV. Well, it's not like anything important is on.

"Hey," she looks up when I speak. "Can I ask how it's going with Tina and Bex?"

She gives me a suspicious frown. "Why?"

"Honestly, I'm curious," I give her a little smile. "You haven't talked about it since last week, but you have visited both of them, so…"

"It makes you wonder." She laughs softly. "Is it okay that I really want to keep this stuff just between us. Between me, Tink, and Bex."

"I—" I cut myself off. She's setting a boundary. I take a breath and re-think what to say. "Yes, it's okay to keep it between you three. I just… just don't exclude me completely, please. I know it's uncharted territory for you, and that I don't really have experience with that, but if something happens—anything—I want to be there for you. I want to be able to understand."

"If we don't really understand it, what chance do you have?" And she sticks out her tongue at me.

"Thank you very much, but I have some wisdom." I point to my skunk stripe. "And these grey hairs are the proof."

"Oh, please." But she's giggling at my pique. Which I guess is kinda deserved.

"Still, I'd like to ask how it's going?" I wave my hand idly, shuffling a little more upright. "You don't have to answer."

She shrugs. "I guess that's fair." Which isn't an answer.

I decide to try a different track. "So, you've visited both Tina, and Bex. I won't ask what you got up to, but going to them, instead of inviting them over?"

"Tink would've been fine," and now she's laughing. "But somehow, for some reason, Bex is actually intimidated by you—and she's nearly as tall as you, too. I don't get it."

I frown, considering possibilities. Aside from that one time, I really don't think of myself as massively bold or intimidating any way. Okay, maybe a bit bold, about certain things. And stubborn. A different thought occurs to me.

"Have you been telling Bex Elsa's story?" I keep my tone neutral. It's an honest question, is all.

"Bits and pieces," she gives me a little smile. "For context. Telling her a bit about why you're… well… you."

It's my turn to frown. "And that's… intimidating… to her?"

"She might not have all the right words, but that's the one she used."

"That's fair then." I wave my hand in the air again. "So you three, you're okay, figuring this out, on your own?"

"As much as we can, anyway." Joan smiles brightly. "Your talk the other day helped—the one about jealousy and fear. I talked about it with them too."

"You did?" I know I shouldn't have asked that. I'm pushing at that boundary.

Joan looks down for a moment, then meets my gaze with fire in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that."

She lets out a little breath, and I see a new smile on her face. Something different to anything I've seen before. "I don't have to do it on my own." She doesn't elaborate.

I smile, trying my hardest to accept her answer. "You're lucky to have such supportive girlfriends."

"I really am." That same, new smile. It fades slowly. "Mom?"

"Yeah?" I want to know about that smile. I want to know what's going on. It frustrates me, not knowing, and if something goes wrong… I shake my head, bringing myself back into the moment.

"Thanks for letting me have this." She leans over to hug me. "It means a lot to all of us."

Us? I mean, it was obvious they'd come to some kind of amicable agreement, but this is hinting at more. I clench my fists, hoping Joan isn't paying too much attention. Dear sweet mother of… I want to know so badly right now.

"One day I might be able to tell you," I think she did notice. "But first we have a lot of things to figure out. Feelings too. Maybe even dates…"

"Okay, that was on purpose." I can tell she's teasing me now. About things I can't possibly be allowed to know.

"Kinda," and she smiles, far too innocently.

Silence falls between us for a while.

"Hey, mom, is the next part of the story heavy, like last time?"

"No," I shake my head for emphasis. "I think it's cute, and being supportive. There's some sex stuff too, but I'll keep that light."

"You could have just not mentioned it…" the mocking disgust in her voice. We've all been there, at some point.

"Do you want to hear more about my life as a supportive girlfriend?"

She sits up straight at that. Actually, she's leaning forward, eager to hear more. It has been a while, after all.

—∞—

It was the next day, and I was still processing… grief… I guess. I was processing a lot of emotions from that morning. And yes, we did spend most of the rest of the day snuggled together under the blankets. Someone ordered takeout for dinner, because honestly, neither of us was up to cooking. Hell, I think I was barely up to eating, but we shared a little meal, just sitting on the living room floor. It was as far as we got. We talked more about plans for afterwards. Elsa played that song for me, and then showed me a funeral playlist. It kind of surprised me that it was full of emo bands, with dark lyrics, but upbeat and catchy rhythms and melodies. I recognised a few of the songs, even. Especially Welcome to the Black Parade.

We listened to that playlist as we fell asleep on the couch. There were enough blankets, and I really didn't have the energy to move far. Neither did she, apparently, falling asleep in minutes.

So, Monday became a day for me to clean up the house. I was happy to have it off, as usual. She still had to work, more rehearsal time for her big performance. It was going to be on Thursday night, and I'd already arranged to have at least the afternoon off. I wasn't going to miss it. I was also busy vacuuming when Elsa came home, hair a tangled mess, and glowing with a sheen of sweat despite the cold outside. I turned the cleaner off and waved towards the couch.

"I want to get clean first." She was already at the stairs.

I frowned, considering what she might want. It was too early for dinner. Maybe just a sit-down would be nice for her. But it felt like I should be doing more. I could offer her another massage—or some pampering—later. Then I thought of something I liked to do, and I knew what I could do while she showered.

She came back down the stairs wearing sweatpants and a loose top, her hair hanging loose. I handed her a mug of hot chocolate, then sat down next to her.

"I can be quiet, if you want, but I thought you'd like this at least," I nodded towards the hot chocolate. "Is that okay?"

"Quiet would be nice," I felt her stroke my hair as I rested my head in her lap. "Today was hectic, full dress rehearsal. And again tomorrow. So much stretching. Being all around the stage. Lighting is still late on that cue, and something is wrong with the speakers up the back. Something about channel mixing, I think they said. It is feeling like we have the gremlins."

I giggled quietly at the mental image of gremlins trapped in a speaker box. "I'm sure your tech guys can work it out before Thursday."

"They had better." It was strange to hear that kind of frustration from her. Her voice softened, "They will. I'm just venting."

"So it's going well, just little technical issues?" I rolled so I could look up into her face.

"And being so tired." She sighed heavily. "I am not sure if it is just the exertion, or an effect of the cancer, or the treatments lingering slightly."

"If you want, I could give you a massage later…" I left the option open to her.

"Like… that?" She smiles down at me. "Or like our first time?"

"Like our first," I smile back at her. "You look smashed after just a day of rehearsals. I thought it would be nice. No pressure or anything. I could do your hair again too."

"That would be nice, Anniken," she was still stroking my hair. "But first I would like a nap. Wake me up for dinner?"

"You just want to avoid cooking." I poked my tongue out.

"You would not trust me in your kitchen. You have said so, many times." She stuck her tongue out at me. "It is your own fault."

"Yeah…" I sigh, slowly working my way upright. "You'll be okay there?"

She yawned widely, and nodded. I took her half-drunk chocolate, then tucked the blanket around her. Dinner could wait.

Tuesday morning, and Elsa was up at the same time as me. I saw that slightly messy hair and the rumpled pyjamas, and I think she had half a second to recognise the lust in my eyes. Because half a second later, I had her pinned against the wall, my lips pressed into hers, and her hands all over my body. Work and dance rehearsals were the furthest thing from my mind in that moment. There was a fire inside me, one I hadn't felt for a long time.

It took a moment for her to catch her breath. "Can you be late?"

I peered around the doorjamb, just to see her bedside clock. Maybe. "Fashionably. You?"

"A… a little, I suppose." She shifted uncomfortably. "But I really, really need to pee."

I giggled, and kissed her on the cheek. "My room."

It turned out that we were both more than a little late. It worked out okay in the end, because I had extra energy and a bit more focus than usual. She actually managed to relax a little before another punishing day of practice.

Later that day—the evening, really—both of us were sitting on the couch, her legs over mine, and an arm around my shoulders.

"This morning was nice," she kissed my cheek. "I was late, but I saw Aurora taking the lead for the first act. She will be an excellent lead, after our premiere."

"That's good," I leaned into her. "Are you happy with that?"

"I am," I saw her smile out of the corner of my eye. "And still tired. But I will make this premiere. I have to. That is why I am working so hard. It is why I'm so happy you are such a supportive girlfriend. You don't always know what to do, but you're always trying, and I love that. You get it more right than wrong, too. Don't doubt that."

"I don't," I smiled, then reached up to kiss her. "And I'll be there on Thursday. I already told you I managed to get the afternoon off, right?"

"Yes, Anniken, you have told me several times." Her arm around my shoulders pulled me closer. "I can even show you backstage."

I waved my hand flippantly in front of her. "Eh, I've already seen you undress today."

"Well, your attempts were less than successful, and it was only three buttons."

"Hey!" I gave her a look of injured pride. "I was in a hurry."

"For everything."

"Okay, that was just uncalled for."

She collapsed with laughter.

I couldn't help a fit of the giggles either. "I mean, you're not wrong, but still…"

"I needed a laugh. You are always good for that."

"Elsa?"

"No, I was hearing it. That was not meant to be an insult." She sighed softly. "I am meaning more like you can be relied upon to give others laughter. Better?"

"Yeah," I pulled her closer. Close enough that she was almost sitting on me. "Why are you pushing yourself so hard?"

"Because the premiere is my only chance to do this." She was shockingly blunt. "I don't even know if I will have the energy for an encore at the end, let alone a matinee on Friday." She pinched her fingers together. "I think I am this close to just being completely burnt out. It is not healthy to push myself like this, I know you will try and say. But this is my one chance. I—no, do not blame yourself for the time I missed. This will be my—umm, in English is svane?—"

"Swan." I supplied for her.

"Swan song. My last dance." She smiled, wistful. "Not my last forever—we have a wedding in future—but my last as a professional. I will be back on treatments next week. To borrow some more time to spend with you. I think—I think these treatments will also be the ones that damage my hair."

"You must be tired," I kissed her softly, then rested my forehead against hers. "You're being so honest, not deflecting, not… pushing me away."

"I am being vulnerable." I saw the tear fall down her cheek. "You are hearing me. And supporting me. I know around you this will never be used for hurting me."

I pulled her down on top of me, wrapping her in the tightest hug I could manage. "Idiot."

She still laughed.

Wednesday had been a heavy day for me. Not emotionally, but physically. We moved a lot of frames and half-completed platforms around the workshop and onto the trailer. Thursday was going to be site work, and prep for an install on Friday. Even so, I knew Elsa had probably been working harder than me. She was putting everything into this, and I wanted to make sure she could just concentrate on the performance. Being so tired getting home, however, I knew I had to make something simple, but filling for the both of us. So I made a pasta bake with some leftover mince, some fresh tomatoes, and probably too much cheese.

Elsa arrived home early in the evening, and once again she had a quick nap before coming back down for dinner.

"It smells good."

"It should, with some extra spices I added. And probably too much cheese."

"Still worth it," Elsa smiled, then frowned slightly as I placed the dish in front of her. "It tastes better than it looks?"

"For sure," I sat opposite her. "Only the top looks good, and only in the pan. Hmm… no, turns out that's just enough cheese."

She laughed, then thumped her chest, nearly choking.

"You okay over there?"

"Fine," she coughed. "Do not make me laugh while I am chewing."

"Sure." I took another bite, eyeing her across the table. "So, rehearsal go well today?"

"We are all being set," she smiled brightly. "Tomorrow morning is a technical run, performers have the morning off."

"I've only got the afternoon off," I sighed, then changed tack. "You want to have dinner at home tomorrow, or go somewhere fancy?"

"Home is nice. We can have a fancy dinner another day." She gave me a curious look. "You don't mind cooking so often?"

"I don't," I just shook my head. "I'm used to it, and I'm alright in the kitchen. Besides, you need far more supervision to produce edible meals. And I've been cooking for both of us for months now—and even if it wasn't you, I still gotta feed myself after work."

She laughed.

I smiled. "So you can just concentrate on your performance, and not worry that you're putting me out."

"Thank you, Anniken. I appreciate the effort you are putting in very much."

"Thanks," as I took another bite, I remembered something about sports teams, and big match days. "Say, Elsa, I've heard things about sports teams, and not doing… things… the night before a match. Does that apply to dancers as well?"

Elsa's blush was very bright. "You are asking that at dinner?"

"You've said—more than once—that you could be dessert." I wore a devilish grin.

"Again it bites me in ass." She gave me a half-questioning look. I shrugged—close enough, honestly. She continued: "Yesterday morning?"

"Was a quickie." I kept the same smile. "And energetic. I'm tired tonight—and only if you want to, but we can take our time—or we could just cuddle. Really, I just want to be close to you."

"We could share beds again, if you want?" She very much ignored my unspoken question. I frowned. Or did she want me to ask more clearly?

"I'd like that." I took another bite of the pasta bake, savouring the melted cheese. "I know maybe it's better asked over dessert, but I want to, with you. Do you want to, tonight?"

"No," she shook her head slowly, then held up a hand. "I would like to, but I want to spoil you, make you feel like a princess—or rockstar is more you—for supporting me so much these past weeks. I want for you to not worry about anything else."

I swallowed hard. "Woman, you are not making me want you less right now."

"You have toys," she gave me a lascivious wink. "Now, I am thinking… you have nothing planned for Sunday, correct?"

"You'd make me wait that long to get laid?" I think it was the tone of mock-petulance that did it.

"After I've been waiting for literal months?" The way she winked at me. Oh, that was most definitely on purpose. "Besides, the anticipation can be helping."

I had to do the most dramatic thing possible. I got up from the table and a held up a hand for her to wait. I took a cushion from the couch, then walked slowly back into the dining room. I held up my free hand once, then took a deep breath. It felt so good to scream my frustration into that pillow. Elsa nearly fell off her chair with laughter.

"Yes, I know how that feels," she laughed and fixed her cushion, then brushed some stray hairs off her face. "What's really for dessert?"

I tossed the cushion back towards the door, and sat back down. "I got a couple of ice-cream cones on the way home—the fancy ones."

She smiled. "That sounds nice."

Wednesday turned into an early night. While I took some time—and a long shower—to combat my frustrations, it was still quite early when I climbed into Elsa's bed. Our hands might have roamed a little, but mostly it was about being comfortable, and in each others' arms. I slept better than I had in several days. She told me in the morning that she had too.

—∞—

"That's it?" Joan's looking over at me, somewhat disappointed. "You build up all the way to this big performance, and you just stop, right there?"

"Yup," I stick out my tongue. "Besides, one of us has to go help with dishes. And Elsa's big performance deserves its space. But that's also because I don't think I have the words to do it justice, even now. I was so focused on her, I kind of missed a large part of what it was about."

"Really?"

"I was watching my future wife, on stage, moving in ways that…" I let it hang there. "It's one of those 'you had to be there' things. And yes, I know how stupid that can sound sometimes. I'll give it my best shot, but I don't know if I can get right."

"More right than wrong," Joan winks at me. "It'd be a shame not to at least try."

"I will try," I look down. "I wish we'd been allowed to record some of the performance. Then I could just show you. It'd be so much easier."

She smiles. "Even if there are bits I don't need to hear, I like the way you tell it."

She's already retreating through the kitchen door. I don't know why that just hit me the way it did. I like the way you tell it.

I let out a little breath. Maybe it's not me. Maybe it's letting her see you. Even if it's not you, but the way I saw you. Like I'm bringing you to life, just for her. I think… I think I'd like it if that were true. I hope you would too. No. I know you would.