AN: I saw Inside Out yesterday. That supplied most of the inspiration that allowed me to write this in under a day. That movie's gonna stick with me for a long time.
It's never good when you get a call from the hospital. Especially not at night—even more so when you're a parent. I know it's Joan. On fencing night even. Now my mind is running through a number of nightmare scenarios involving my baby, each less likely than the last. I slow down and take a deep breath before handing the phone off to Kristoff. It sounds terrible, but it really isn't. Day stay, at the worst. I think she's going to enjoy telling me her side of it. I'm almost pulling out of the driveway when I remember that Kristoff should be here too.
Oops.
I packed a change of clothes for Joan, just in case. Kristoff grabbed a book—though that looks more like it's for him than her. Maybe he's right to do so, it's possible we'll have to wait. It's just as well he's with me, gently reminding me to a) breathe, and b) follow the road code. I wish I could appreciate that more in this moment, but almost all my willpower is concentrated on Joan. She'll be okay—it's mostly that the hospital's emergency room was closest. I'm not panicking—I'm not. Okay, maybe a little bit. After all, my baby did just get hurt bad enough to end up in a hospital.
Surprisingly, there aren't any delays, and the nurse leads us straight to Joan's bed, where she's propped up and smiling, laughing at something on the TV—much better than when you were stuck here, I'm sure. She turns to me, and her smile fades. It's not gone, but I think maybe she's afraid. She shouldn't be—or is it that she's afraid for me? Hmph, I remember my own teenage years being rather confusing. Her expression changes to one of concern.
"I–I'm sorry, mom. I didn't want to scare you."
"What about your poor old dad, Snowflake?" Kristoff's smiling down at her. His voice might be playful, but I can see the worry in his eyes.
"You're tough, dad," and she winks at him, holding up her arm for him to see.
It's a lattice-web style cast; tough but breathable, and you can actually scratch if it gets itchy. Printed on site to match her arm exactly. She winces slightly as she puts the arm down. There's an X-ray next to her bed showing the extent of the break. It doesn't explain the miniature butterfly bandages down her right temple though. That cut looks like it goes into her hair. Well, I know that's gonna suck later. Then again, she's probably got a good story to tell now. A story I'd really like to hear. Me and Kristoff each pull up a chair; I'm on her right, and he's on her left.
"So," I wink at her. "What did you vanquish this time?"
She looks down at her wrist, and I can see the disappointment in her eyes. "My chances of going to the melee."
I'm not about to tell her that she wouldn't have gotten that chance—bad guy I might have been; I wanted that punishment to sting—if she thought she had a chance, I'm not going to take it away from her now. I want to make sure she's okay, and that she knows we all love her and care for her. I give her a gentle look and just sigh, patting her shoulder. I'm not sure I should say anything right now.
"I'm okay," but it's a wan smile that greets me when she speaks. "I just… well, I really wasn't expecting this to happen."
"How did it happen?" Kristoff leans a little closer as he asks that. "Do I need to knock some heads?"
"Dad, no!" She looks around, cheeks aflame, trying to make sure we weren't overheard. "It was an accident, okay?"
"Okay." I see the twitch as he's about to tousle her hair, then thinks better of it with her lying in a hospital bed. "Just tell us what happened, in your own time."
"I tripped." We both just stare at her. Seriously baby, you just tripped? I don't buy it. I fix her with a hard stare. "Some gioco stretto may have been involved." Kristoff's turn to stare. He tries, he really does with the terms, but sometimes it just evades him. She rolls her eyes but relents. "Close play—grappling."
"So someone else tripped you," Kristoff is looking quite stern.
"Well yeah, dad, that's kinda the point. We're meant to learn how to defend against it."
"Looks like it didn't go too well."
She gives him a chagrined smile. "Lanie did try to catch to me, but her hand slipped on my gambeson sleeve, and we both went down, and the next thing I know Phil's staring down at me, dabbing the side of my head, and my wrist is on fire. They think I might have a concussion."
"You're going to have learn to write right handed for a while," I smile at her.
"Yeah, I guess I can thank auntie Elsa for that one," she gives me a mocking grin. It's good to see that despite this hiccup she's still got a strong sense of fun. This is twice she's been hurt at fencing in recent months. I don't think it's establishing a trend, but you never can tell.
"So, that explains your wrist and the concussion, but what about this?" I run a finger tenderly past the cut on the side of head. She tries very hard not to wince or shy away. It must hurt. I kiss her hair, just above the cut. I can see her smile—relaxed; content. She's hurt, but she's cared for. Loved. I can read it all in that smile.
"Well, when I fell, I kinda landed on Lanie's sword."
I can't help the shocked gasp that escapes my lips. If she'd landed just a little differently—I shake my head, trying to quell the thought. She and Kristoff both notice.
"It's okay mom, I hit it side on—they tell me it'll make a really pretty bruise by tomorrow."
I facepalm. That explains why it hurt more than I suspected. I wonder if it'll play into her badass persona. Some kind of epic fight, with the multiple choice history again.
"Hey, mom?"
"Yes?"
"I know they said I'm not really supposed to sleep, because of the concussion and everything, but could you tell me a bedtime story?"
"Which one?"
"The one about auntie Elsa, of course," and she smiles at me. "We just got to the part where you grossed out dad with your first kiss."
"I was not grossed out."
"No?"
"I was quite surprised, and maybe a little—" he leans over Joan to whisper in my ear. "—turned on."
I laugh, giving him a knowing smirk. "You wanna do something else while I tell the story?"
"No," he smiles at the both of us. "I think I'll stay here, in case you need me."
Joan reaches over to squeeze his hand. She doesn't say anything, but we can all hear it. We all know it. Kristoff smiles, settling down into his chair and opening his book—so that's why he brought it. Smart ass.
—∞—
It was a Thursday, and rain was pelting down outside. Unfortunately, once again, I was in it. Sometimes even the wet weather gear on my bike wasn't enough to keep me completely dry. Elsa was fixing dinner—she'd promised me no fish would be present this time—and I'd managed to get home early enough to have a shower and not miss dinner. Or so I thought. Having stripped half off on my way up the stairs I opened the door to the bathroom, wondering for a split second why it was so warm in there already. Then our eyes met, and we laughed.
She was only wearing a towel, and I was pretty much topless—because trying to take jeans off on the stairs was never a good idea; something I learned the hard way. She gestured to the room, blushing slightly.
"It's all yours, Anniken," she smiled warmly, throwing another towel around her hair. "I didn't think you would be home so soon."
"I wanted to get in a good shower before dinner," my cheeks were almost on fire, and I knew it. Elsa said nothing about that.
"You shouldn't be so shy," she winked at me, one finger teasing the scar beneath my breasts as she walked out. "You are still so beautiful."
I didn't have a good reply for that. All I could do was look away and turn a deeper shade of crimson. I felt a soft peck on my cheek before she left, closing the door quietly behind her. I was quite taken aback by that. I really was falling for another woman. I loved her, as a person—I knew that much from the start. But this? The affection she showed me? That was something I'd never been prepared for. To be so loved, so freely, and without thought of reward. Maybe… maybe that was the point I really started getting over what Hans had done to me. That was the I point really realized I was worth something, just as myself.
I mean sure, the previous Saturday had shown me something of that. Both Kristoff and Elsa had shown me I was worthy. Now it was finally starting to sink in. I had worth, not just as a friend, or a hard worker, or a sort-of landlord. I had worth as myself, as a person—and Hans had tried to destroy that. I balled my hands into fists and punched the wall. I knew I'd regret it before I did it, but that sudden burst of anger needed instant release.
Rubbing sore knuckles, I stepped into the shower. I don't really know what it was that made that one stick out in my mind. It was more than just a shower—it felt like a cleansing of my soul. It felt like I could start fresh, no longer tainted by Hans. I felt renewed. Or maybe it was Elsa's bodywash. I hoped she wouldn't mind, because it smelled so good on her I figured I just had to try it. I may also have taken a little longer than usual, trying to figure just where my mind—and body—fell on the concept of Elsa as more than just a friend. She had said she loved me, and the way she'd acted, it couldn't just be platonic.
It was a big step though—even though she'd sort of cheated by seeing me half-naked first. That was on me though. For the rest of it I was just going to go where my heart led me. Even then, if I'd known how it would end, I still would have. She was worth it; all the tears, all the pain, those feelings of ruin and bereavement. I can look back now with joy and solace, knowing how much we helped each other heal.
—∞—
"Uhh, mom, did you actually get to dinner that night?"
I shake my head. "I got a little off track, didn't I?" Joan gives me an understanding smile—so, so much like yours. "Dinner wasn't the important part of that day anyway. Also, you asked about me liking girls a while back—I just wanted to point out it didn't happen all at once. It was… complicated."
"I'm only fifteen, mom—should I really have to worry about that kind of love?"
I take her hand, giving it a small squeeze. "You should know about it. Whether or not you want to worry about it is up to you."
"Really helpful."
Kristoff eyes the both of us over the pages of his book, but decides not to intervene. I'm not sure he'd be entirely comfortable talking about that with her anyway.
"So, if it wasn't dinner, what was important about that night?"
—∞—
We were lying on the couch. Elsa's head was in my lap. I'll bet we looked like a couple of lovestruck teenagers. I didn't care. Her eyes were closed as she listened to the rain. To her it was relaxing; pleasant even. To me it was, well, just a little scary. Loud. Then she told me about how she'd listen to the rain when she was growing up in Norway. Norway? She laughed at my surprise, wondering how I hadn't placed her accent yet. I remembered those odd curses she'd said.
"I always did like the rain," she smiled as I ran my fingers through her hair. "My parents told me I was born in a storm."
"At the stroke of midnight?" I couldn't help but tease her, the setup was too good.
"And turn out to be the chosen one?" Damn, she was on to me. "No, it was more like five-seventeen or something."
We laughed. "So, if you grew up in Norway, when did you move here?"
"I was eight," I could hear the wistfulness in her voice already. "I'd just made my first real friend, I was doing well in school, and suddenly we were moving halfway across the world because my father's company had just opened a new office here. I still miss him sometimes."
"It's okay to miss people," I slipped down so I could hug her better. "I still miss my parents."
"Is it alright to ask what happened?"
I kissed her on the head. "It was a plane crash—but I don't really want it to make me sad right now."
"I won't ask then," she rolled over so we were face to face, the rain fading into the muted distance. My breathing slowed as she drew closer, lips slightly parted. I leaned into the kiss, wishing my thoughts were about her, not my parents. A tear rolled down my cheek. She kissed that too. She spoke softly, leaning her forehead against mine. "I'm sorry I made you sad."
"It's alright," I smiled for her. "I was very close to my parents."
The lights suddenly dimmed, then flared to full intensity. Thunder boomed and rumbled and I jumped so forcefully I nearly spilled Elsa from the couch. Laughing, she sat up straight, reaching for the remote. She only turned on the radio, and it was the classics channel. The song was a little older, Stop and Stare, I think. It was a good song for the night, with a nice, slow beat. Elsa stood, legs still a little shaky—her physio was coming along well, but it would still be a while longer before she had real strength in her legs. She beckoned for me to stand as well, taking my hands as I stood. She asked if I remembered when Oaken had first 'danced' with her. I smiled and nodded, my cheeks colouring slightly, because I also remembered being thrown out by Oaken. I stood there for a blank moment, trying to figure out just what she was aiming for.
As the song was winding down I finally got it, and why the radio was on the classics. Elsa wanted to dance. She wanted to dance—with me. I smiled and wrapped her in a tight hug, standing on tiptoes so I could rest my chin on her shoulder. She wanted to share this dance with me. Me. I gulped. With me, the slightly uncoordinated engineer girl that had never managed to finish a set without standing on her partner's toes. I hung my head in shame and embarrassment. How could I ever measure up to the rising star of a dance troupe?
She showed me how, gently standing on my feet. I could feel her arches against my shins. It felt awkward, until she took my hands and her body started to sway in time with the music. It was hard moving two people, but I managed. I thanked my job for giving me that extra, wiry kind of strength. I recognized the beat of the song, but not the words—not until the chorus. That was when Elsa very carefully stepped off my feet, and threw me into a slow twirl. I slipped, both of us landing hard, her on top of me.
She said nothing, offering me her hand so I could rise again, back into the dance. We moved slowly around the living room, Elsa guiding me, me looking down to make sure I didn't stand on her feet. A finger beneath my chin forced me to look up, to see her smile, to see her eyes, and how full of joy she was in that moment. Everything came together when the final chorus played.
"Give me the beat boys and free my soul," Elsa's smile was a glorious thing, so suddenly free. I leaned closer, drawing us together.
"I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away," I could feel it, my body was drifting apart, my mind suddenly higher, freer. I would drift away with her beside me.
"Give me the beat boys and free my soul," Elsa's smile turned sad, and I could see the tears gathering in her eyes. It hurt when she tried to push me away.
"I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away," She tried to turn away from me, but I wouldn't let her. I didn't know what was wrong, but I so badly wanted to make it right.
"Won't you take me away…" The song finished, the last few bars with Elsa crying softly on my shoulder. I cradled her head as we stood there, not understanding what had just happened. She had been so happy. I heard her whisper over the dying rain.
"I wish it could be like this all the time."
I still didn't understand. Not until later. She wasn't wishing for more love, but more time. I think she already knew how I much I loved her, and she was trying to spare me what would happen. She was an idiot.
—∞—
"So you and mom—" Joan yawns, her eyes fluttering with sleep. "—you danced to that old song." She smiles, whispering as she drifts off to sleep. "It's a good song."
