AN: Drama in a story is like spice in cooking. Too much can easily ruin a dish. Sometimes it's nice to have a more quiet kind of drama. I'm rambling again, so I should probably get on with the story…


It's Sunday, I'm at the park with Belle, and it's not quite raining. Well, a light drizzle, but it's not like it's actually cold, which is weird given we're nearly in November. Hell, it's November tomorrow, and I'm kinda wondering where the year has gone. That's not really the issue right now though, because Belle's looking pensive, and I can tell she's got a lot on her mind.

"I'm worried, Anna."

"I kinda figured, given we're meeting alone. Did something happen with Adam?"

Adam is conspicuous by his absence. Belle takes her time in replying, pausing to lean against a nearby tree. A breeze teases her slightly messy hair, and I suddenly remember that day on the lake—the day before you dropped your phone in it. Of course, it wasn't your hair flying around then. I manage to get back to reality before Belle has answered my question about Adam.

"What? No. Nothing like that." She's blushing slightly, and has a distant smile. "It's more like… well, the future. I want a family one day."

"Does Adam?" Okay, that maybe shouldn't have been the first thing I said.

"No… well… he's worried too."

Now it's starting to make sense. I know parenthood changes a person—I mellowed out after I had Joan; and I got a little more positive. But this right now isn't about me. "You're worried about what would happen if Adam has one of his flashbacks while he's around a kid, right?"

"Well…" she sighs heavily, like she's finally accepted something. "Yes."

A sudden gust of wind and squall of rain drive us almost off the path. I shake myself down and Belle just looks frustrated. Well, if she didn't want to get wet she always could've asked to meet at my place. Thinking of meetings and talking to people…

"Have you talked about it—or has he talked about with his therapist?"

"I don't know, Anna. I haven't brought it up."

"Even with him?"

"We've talked; Adam wants to be in a healthier place before even thinking about having a family."

A smart decision, in my opinion. Not that I distrust Adam, but more that I feel that if he can't trust himself, I should trust his judgement on the issue. I can almost see the kind of man he's trying to be though—and so can Belle. Maybe that's why she's bringing all this up now.

"Adam's idea seems perfectly reasonable to me," I can't quite understand the skeptical look she's giving me. "It's not like you're in any kind of rush."

Now that blush is very out of character for her. I shoot her a pointed look, and for some reason she can't meet my eyes. She's smarter than—they are both smarter than… and I'm not entirely sure I want to know, despite what I'm sure she's about to tell me. There had better be a damn good reason young woman.

"No…" I don't even try to keep the disbelief from my voice.

Belle just nods.

"When?"

"A couple of months ago. You remember I talked about actually fighting with Adam?"

"I do. It scared me when you said that."

"Well, we might have had a drink or two to calm down afterwards, and then maybe some slightly angry and very—anyway, something happened, and well… here we are."

"I thought both you and him were using contra—"

Belle shakes her head sadly. "I can't. Messes me up terribly. I had an implant, and it was due to be renewed, but maybe I missed the date, or my body flushed the drugs sooner or something. So yes, we did take precautions. I guess just not enough of them."

I won't say that if they're both so afraid there are certain options. I don't want to influence her. But they're also both so young. And foolish. And for some reason I think of Elsa and me, fooling around during a lazy afternoon. Just doing stupid things. It was a good time. A very good time. I think we might have dragged a mattress out of the attic and used it to bounce off the stairs. Whoever said you couldn't look dignified while you were having fun was completely on point. I also a remember a flying tackle from one of us pinning me to the mattress. I didn't care.

"Anna?" Belle waves a hand in front of me.

"Huh?"

"You just zoned out for a minute there."

"Oh, sorry. So…" I clasp my hands together and look at Belle. This is serious, so I have to be serious. "Do you want to keep it?"

"I…" I can see the mix of confusion, concern, fear and determination behind her eyes. "I don't know."

"And that's what scares you, right?"

She nods slowly. "I haven't even told my dad yet." You what?!

"How long have you known?" If it's only been a week or so, then I'm not going to be that surprised. Also, given how confusing everything must be for her right now, well, yeah. I'm not gonna hold this against her either way—although she really should let Maurice know, soon.

"A couple of weeks." She smiles, just a little. "I really wanted to talk to you first."

"You could have asked to talk last week…"

"You blew me off." She's frowning at me, like I should remember and—oh crap, I did blow her off. Me and Kristoff were just so smashed from that week of rebuilding the wirer that we couldn't do anything. I can feel my hands balling into fists. I am supposed to be there for my friends, even when I can't. I have to take a breath.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, we're talking now. I'm glad I could get all this off my chest." Of course, now I have to worry about all of it too. And I know I will. I also can't tell anyone and—ugh, I hate keeping secrets, especially from Kristoff and actually, no, I can trust him. After all, why else would I—crap, if Belle's looking at me right now I'm going to have some explaining to do. I look down, almost talking into the wind as I reply.

"Anytime, Belle."

"Do you think I should tell Adam?" Pensive again. She's like that a lot today. With good reason, too. I, on the other hand, am still processing that she is, in fact, pregnant.

"I think he has a right to know. If you keep it, it's not just your child, it's his too." Fathers have rights, just as much as mothers.

"And if I don't?" I didn't want to hear that. Not right now. Not even when I dropped that hint earlier. If she went through with that—even though it might be the best option—it would still hurt them both. I can see a hundred ways it could start to slowly destroy them, and I don't want that.

"It's your choice." I leave that to hang for a moment. "But if you don't tell him, and he finds out later… I couldn't stand it if either of you got hurt."

"I'm still afraid, but I know he wouldn't hurt me." I hate how easy it is to hear the tremor in her voice. I know it all too well.

"That's not what I meant," I take her hand and we sit on a convenient bench. Wet. "Alright, bad idea. Anyway, it's okay to be afraid. Just don't let it control you—don't suffer like I did."

"Like you did?" Well, her interest is definitely piqued. She shuffles sideways, trying to find a spot to sit that is less wet.

I'm sure I've told her about Hans, and my past. Right? It'll only take one word to find out. I put as much venom into the name as I can. "Hans."

"Hans?" Damn. Another thing I didn't want to do. But I have to. I have a feeling today is going to be very much about these choices.

I tell her, at least in brief, about Hans, and what he did. Turns out I've still got a lot of anger in me about that. Resentment too. Mostly at myself. Hindsight is 20/20, but that doesn't make it any less frustrating. I hope she can take something useful away from this. All I have right now is a burning desire to hit something, and a deep-seated need to be held. The scars have faded, sure, but if keep picking at them they'll bleed again. I could use a bit more wisdom sometimes, I think.

…don't even say it.

"Not a story you like telling." Look, you, at least she has some tact. I shift slightly on the bench, and I'm almost hugging myself before I feel an arm around my shoulders and hair against my cheek. I turn to see Belle wearing a gentle smile. "I'm sorry."

"It's in the past," and yes, I know there are still aspects of it I have yet to deal with properly. But today is not about me. "So, I think your problems—I mean, not that it's a problem, it's a situation and—okay, anyway, either way, this is… well… it's a big step for you. Both of you. Just… don't rush. Don't rush, take your time. And if you want to talk, just call me."

"I did," and she gives me a pointed look. It wilts after a second and she breaks out laughing.

"What?"

"A bad joke. I'm sorry." She hugs me again. "You're a good friend."

"Don't be, you've heard some of mine. I've been a connoisseur of terrible jokes for a long time," I take a second to catch my breath, standing, beckoning for Belle to follow. "And thank you. By the way, appetite kicked in yet?"

She looks at me, very confused.

"Pregnancy joke. Want to come over for lunch?"

"Oh, yes, please." There's a devious twinkle in her eye. "I have to steal more of your husband's recipes."

"Be my guest."


I'm just lying on the couch now that Belle's gone, trying to figure out how exactly I feel about this. About her being pregnant. About Adam's possible reactions. About me being her confidante. About whether or not I really will tell Kristoff. About how much I hate keeping secrets. I know sometimes people have to, but still, I swear, half the world's problems could be solved if the idiots would just be honest with each other. And I've also been called out for that opinion more than once, too. Screw it, it's the truth, and I stand by it.

Elsa was always better at keeping secrets. I don't really mean that in a bad way, she just… kept them. I could tell her things, and they never spread. Sometimes, the things she told me, Kristoff, her doctors, hospital staff… they learned of them. Sometimes it helped them to know. And sometimes it hurt her—and me. But she accepted that, because I was always doing it for the right reasons; never to hurt her; never to start stupid rumours. But there were some secrets I never told. Some I knew were sacrosanct, without ever needing to be told. Well, maybe one or two that I didn't think were terribly important and… damn, I'm rambling.

I have to tell Kristoff. Just as I'm getting up off the couch my phone rings, and of course I manage to fumble it beneath the couch. Who the hell would be calling me anyway, I mean, Belle's not long gone, Kristoff's here, and Joan doesn't have her phone this weekend. I manage to hit the answer button as I retrieve the thing from under the couch. The slightly pudgy face on the screen is a dead giveaway, along with that nose.

"Lefou?" Wait, movement in the background… "Christian! Hi!"

"Yes, Anna, he heard you."

Christian leans down and kisses Lefou on the cheek. "I'll let you two talk now. So long, darling." The way he sashayed off when he said that, I'm not sure which one of us he meant.

"He loves the act."

"I know—but he does it so well." Christian is so camp sometimes. I mean, I think he puts it on even thicker for me, but it's pretty thick as it is. Thing is, it makes him better, and a lot more fun to be around. Plus, he teases me about being on the impossible line between butch and femme. Well, just because I have muscles and like to wear men's clothes sometimes doesn't mean I can't be elegant and refined too.

"Doesn't he?" I like Lefou's smile. I like seeing him happy. I may have zoned out a little.

"Sorry, what?"

"I was agreeing with you, Anna."

"Oh, okay. So, what's this call about?"

"You really are terrible with dates, you know that, right?"

"I'll have you know only half of my dates ended in flaming disaster. And only one literally."

"Very funny. Remembrance day."

"That's nearly a fortnight away."

"Yes, so now you have no excuse for not being organised."

"I'm sure I can make one up. Failing that, I should be on time this year."

"Excellent. I'll talk to you again closer to the time."