Conceal, don't feel

The moment Elsa and Marshall entered the old bedroom, they knew they were into arduous work. The broken window they had set their mind to fix was behind several boxes – the only temporal solution Elsa had found to the problem months before. Sadly, it now forced them to rearrange the boxes and equipment around them before they even got close to the window. Taking even longer than they originally imagined to put things in the correct place and so, they began working on the broken window late into the evening.

Taking advantage of their time together while they worked, they began telling stories about each other. Mainly about their teenage years and childhood. Elsa made an effort to talk about her life after she met the Bjorgmans, exclusively. And she had great fun remembering the good things from her adolescence with Kristoff. It was nice to remember and talk about the places they'd gone to and visited once she had felt safe going out of the house. It had taken her a long time to dare go into the 'real world' as she had called it. But thankfully, her brother had been patient enough with her, and she had found a way to make up for the lost time.

Marshall, on the other hand, didn't talk much about his adolescence and his time in the city. He insisted nothing interesting had happened in his time there – besides the fact he had studied and worked as a paramedic – but in his opinion, the anecdotes he had of that time weren't interesting enough to share. For that reason, his stories mainly revolved around his time in the mountains as a young kid. The time he had spent working the land and helping his grandfather were, without a doubt, the most precious memories that he had, and he was more than eager to share them.

Once they finally got to their target – the damned window as they began to call it – Marshall arranged all the things he was going to need as he continued telling his story.

"...when my grandfather found out I had broken my bedroom window, he handed me a hammer and said, 'either you fix this window or you freeze your arse tonight, lad.' " He pointed to Elsa with the hammer he had on his hand, pretending he was his late grandfather.

The deep raspy voice he used made Elsa laugh. She guessed the strange voice was supposed to be an imitation of the old man. "What did you do?" she asked, amused.

"My teeth chattered throughout the night," he said matter-of-factly.

That only made Elsa laugh harder. She knew Marshall could be stubborn, but to sleep with a broken window in the middle of the Winter was more than she ever imagined him to be. "I can't believe you didn't try to fix it."

"I was a stupid kid." He shrugged as he picked a small chisel from his toolbox. "I had no idea how to fix things at the time, and I was too proud to ask my grandfather for help."

"How long did it take for you to fix it?"

"You know I can't stand the cold," he said with a shrug.

Elsa knew it was ridiculous to feel a pang of pain at his comment; but she couldn't help feeling slightly offended whenever Marshall mentioned how much he despised cold temperatures. She shook her head trying to erase the stupid thoughts and paid attention to him once again.

"The following morning I apologised and asked for his help. I started fixing things around the house after that day. I tried to be more helpful and not so much of a brat."

She couldn't picture him behaving like a brat. He was such a well mannered man, it was hard to imagine he was any different as a young kid.

"Now I enjoy fixing things," he admitted. "Everything works differently and it can be a challenge to fix certain objects." He leant in and paid a closer look at the window frame in front of him. Clearly, fixing windows didn't count as a challenge for him anymore, but he seemed genuinely interested in starting his work.

"Well, I should be thanking your grandfather, then," said Elsa, as she got closer to where he was standing to see what he was looking at. "This window has been broken for over a year. I'm really glad you offered to help me, Marshmallow."

He turned and looked at her a little bemused. "I don't understand why you never asked for my help," he said with a small smile. "I wasted so much time fixing things for Westergard… I could have been helping you instead."

She offered a smile in return, before she explained, "He was your boss. It's only logical that you fixed things for him instead of me." Truth was, if she had known he didn't mind helping her, she would have asked for his help a long time ago. She had even thought about asking Kristoff for some help. But that idea died down as soon as she saw the disastrous work he had done with her snowmobile. "By the way, how can I pay you for this favour?"

He scoffed at the mere idea. "There's no need to pay me anything. We're partners now." He continued inspecting the window in front of him for a few seconds, before he said, "Although... you could cook something for me one of these days."

"That's not gonna happen."

"It was worth a shot," he chuckled.

Marshall gave up on the idea faster than Elsa imagined, and she felt bad for denying something as simple as some homemade food. But she truly believed anything she cooked was closer to torture than a thank-you. "I could help you now if you want…" she said, not sure what else she could offer.

To her good luck, he smiled broadly at her suggestion. "That could work too. Why don't you hold the lower sash open while I try to remove the jambs?"

"Remove them?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I need to remove these in order to get the sash out. Sadly, the wood here is quite old and battered." He pointed to the different parts as he spoke. "I don't want to do unnecessary damage since I'd like to save the jambs. I'd rather replace the rails and stiles instead. You know, to make sure this locks correctly." Hearing no answer from her, he looked over his shoulder to see if Elsa agreed with him. Instead, he was surprised to see Elsa's questioning look. "Is there anything wrong?" he asked.

"I've got no idea what you just said," she admitted as she began to laugh.

Shaking his head, Marshall just opened the window and held the sash up for her to see. "Just hold the sash like this while I remove these things on the side. I worry I might break something if it shakes too much."

"Okay," said Elsa with a smile. "That's easier to understand."

"Hold it firmly. The whole window will probably shake," he warned.

Elsa nodded and used both her hands to hold both sashes in place. It had been years since the lock that held the lower sash in place had broken, so she was happy Marshall was planning on repairing that too.

Just as Marshall had warned, the whole frame and sashes began to shake while he levered the left jamb. Even if the wood was old and seemed ready to snap at any second, it put up resistance against Marshall's efforts.

Elsa was focused on Marshmallow's work, so she didn't pay much attention to the upper part of the window. If she had, she would have noticed the way the window was shaking, and how the remaining broken glass from the upper sash was coming loose. All of a sudden, a shard of glass came off and fell straight into the gap at the bottom of the sash, right where Elsa was holding the bottom one. To her bad luck, the wood was too degraded to stop the big piece of glass, which pierced into the rotten wood and Elsa's left hand.

"Shit! Son of a– argh!" The sudden pain made Elsa shriek and move her hand out of instinct, cutting the palm of her hand open in the process.

The lower sash fell as soon as Elsa let go of it, startling Marshall. "What happened?" he asked, alarmed. "What the hell happened?" he insisted when he saw the amount of blood dripping from Elsa's open wound.

Elsa grabbed her left wrist to make the bleeding stop, and tried in vain to take the pain away in the process. "For f–argh… sakes!" she said, shutting her eyes, not wanting to see is bad it really was. "This hurts like hell."

"I never expected this to fall apart like it did," said Marshall as he inspected the piece of glass that had come off. "How did it manage to pierce–"

"Could you please help me out here?" said Elsa, interrupting him. She knew it wasn't Marshall's fault the 'stupid' window had fallen apart, but she didn't have enough patience to wait for him until he found out what had happened either.

"Sorry. Sorry," he said, rushing to her side. He asked Elsa to show him the open wound and she complied.

Making an effort, Elsa tried to forget about the pain and concentrated on her powers as soon as Marshall grasped her wrist. Keeping her powers under control was proving to be a challenge while she was in so much pain, but she couldn't let Marshall find out about them. Not like that.

"Damn, that hurts!" she exclaimed when Marshall cleaned some of the blood with a handkerchief he found in his pocket.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to see how deep it was." To his disappointment, he didn't get to examine the wound before blood poured from it almost instantly. Not giving it much thought, he put an arm around Elsa's shoulder and helped her get out of the room as he held the handkerchief in place to stop the bleeding. "Have you got a first aid kit?" he asked, as they entered the kitchen.

"I do. It's in–" she tried to say but stopped and hissed at the pain she felt when Marshall moved the piece of cloth unintentionally. "I think it's in my dresser," she said once the pain had lessened.

Marshall walked her to the sink and turned the cold tap on. "Wash the wound while I go get it," he instructed. "Are you sure it's in your dresser?"

"Or wardrobe," she said as she bought some time and gathered the courage to put her hand under the running water. Just to be safe, she didn't want Marshall to be present when she did. She didn't think she was capable of keeping the ice at bay once the water touched her wound.

He offered her an apologetic smile misinterpreting her hesitation for worry. "Don't worry. It looks bad now, but I think it isn't as big as it seems."

Elsa nodded but didn't say anything, hoping he'd leave the room for at least a minute. She needed to regain some composure if she wanted to keep her powers hidden. She heaved a sigh of relief when he finally disappeared into the hallway that led to her bedroom, and took a deep breath.

She concentrated on her powers for a few seconds and willed the freezing force to move from her left hand to her right. She wasn't sure how she did it, but she knew that if she concentrated hard enough, the ice did as I was told and she could buy herself some time to put her hand under water without freezing it.

Once she was certain her powers were momentarily tamed. She did as Marshall had instructed and put her bleeding hand under the running water. "Damn, this hurts," she hissed once again when she felt the burning sensation of water in her wound. "Focus Elsa," she murmured. "Don't let your concentration slip."

She hadn't anticipated rinsing her wound could become so tiresome after a minute of holding her powers in check. Not to mention the acute pain and dripping blood did nothing to help her stay in control. Whenever he looked at her wound, she couldn't help but imagine the worst case scenario where she ended up losing control of her powers in the hospital.


By the time Marshmallow returned with the first-aid kit in his hands, he found Elsa leaning over the sink, breathing heavily. He left the kit on the table and rushed to her side, afraid she was losing more blood than he had anticipated. "Hey, are you okay?"

Elsa ignored him completely, too fixed in the water washing the blood down the drain as she tried to get a grip on her emotions. Controlling her powers when she felt physical pain was significantly easier than when her emotions ran out of control.

Noticing Elsa's catatonic state, Marshall moved until he was standing behind her and gently rubbed her upper arms, trying to help her calm down. "Let me help you with this," he said, calmly, finally making her aware of his presence.

Elsa closed her eyes tightly for a moment and made a final effort to control the ice. She took a deep breath and said, "You don't need to."

"I've got it," said Marshall, reassuringly. He held her left wrist carefully and guided it under the running water. "Half the time the only worrisome thing about hand cuts is infections. I'll make sure it's clean before I patch it up."

Elsa nodded her head once, too focused on not letting her concentration slip to answer. She was trying her best to keep her powers under control and avoid freezing the water that touched her hand, but she was sure Marshall could feel how cold she was to the touch. The pain and stress of the situation was taking a lot of her, and controlling her body temperature was getting significantly harder as time went by.

After a minute – that seemed to last a lifetime – Marshall moved her hand from under the tab. Allowing Elsa to relax slightly. He leaned forward and inspected her wound, brows furrowed in concentration.

Even if his presence made dealing-with-her-powers more difficult. She had to be thankful he was there by her side. She knew how to fix small cuts, but she wasn't sure she knew what to do with a wound like the one she had. She made a mental note to ask Gerda, or Marshall himself, to teach her some tricks once her hand healed. Getting hurt in the mountains seemed to have become a normal part of her life, and she wasn't entirely happy about it.

Thinking about learning a new skill helped Elsa take her mind off the pain and the situation for a few seconds, so she was startled when Marshall said to her, "Don't hate me."

"What?"

"Without much warning, Marshall held her wrist firmly and moved her hand until the wound was directly under the running water, making the acute pain return. "Oh! For heaven's sake, Marshall!" she shrieked and turned her head away in pain. It was good she hid her face in the crook of his neck, since it helped her muffle every curse word she was throwing his way.

"I'm sorry," he said, showing his sympathy. But he couldn't stop chuckling when he heard all the colourful words she was calling him. He didn't expect Elsa to be such a foul-mouthed person when she was in pain. "I swear it's for your own good."

Elsa took a deep breath the moment he pulled her hand from under the running water for a second time, and covered the wound with a piece of cloth. It wasn't until she regained some composure that she turned her head and looked at him and seriously said, "You're a maniac. You can't possibly enjoy doing this to people."

Marshall laughed out loud at that and raised her arm until her hand was in her line of vision. He asked her to keep the cloth in place and to hold her arm in that position while he looked for the things he needed in the first aid kit.

Elsa did as she was told and kept it raised, noticing, without much pleasure, how blood still ran down her arm. It wasn't nearly as much as it was at the beginning, but it was uncomfortable to watch nonetheless. Elsa guessed Marshall could sense her discomfort as he gently guided her to the nearest chair.

"Give me a moment while I search for a few things to heal the wound."

"It hurts," she complained, more to herself than anyone else. She had had her share of wounds and pain in life, but she wasn't used to dealing with it herself. Every time Weselton did a test on her body, she was under the effect of high doses of sedatives; and the few times she wasn't, she could let go of her powers which helped her deal with the pain. It didn't matter if it was physical or emotional pain, her body always reacted the same way. A snowfall or blizzard started – or she froze everything around her. This time, however, she couldn't allow her body to do what came naturally. So, the pain was more evident. More annoying.

Not feeling comfortable with the sight of her bleeding hand, she turned and looked at Marshall. Watching him rummage through her first-aid kit helped her focus on something different. She had to admit his calm and collected demeanor helped her reduce her anxiety immensely. She couldn't be more thankful for the fact he knew exactly what to do. She kept looking at him in silence for a while, until a sudden concerned expression drew on his face. "Is something wrong?" she asked, not knowing what to expect.

Marshall picked a small bottle from inside the wooden box and showed it to Elsa. "Is this a benzodiazepine ampoule?"

Not really knowing how to explain the reason she had those inside her first aid kit, Elsa tried to draw his attention to something different. "I shouldn't have moved my hand after the glass pierced my hand. I think I made the wound bigger."

"What are you doing with these?" Marshall asked again, as he found more ampoules and other types of sedatives inside the box. She could see that the more he searched, the more concerned he grew.

"Umh…" There was no way she could come up with a believable excuse, after all, she had no idea what normal people used those sedatives for. "Nothing. Just ignore those, please."

He took two more ampoules from inside the box and put them on the table in front of Elsa. "Injectable benzodiazepine is extremely addictive, not to mention dangerous if you do not use it correctly. What were you thinking?"

"Marshmallow…"

"Where did you get these?"

Elsa wasn't sure if he was concerned for or mad at her, but she thought it was best to deal with it at some other time. Not only did she have no idea what to tell him, her bleeding hand still needed attention. "I'm bleeding here," she said, hoping he'd understand what she meant.

Marshall's stern look was fixed on her for a moment, but he soon shook his head and focused his attention on her bleeding hand. He sighed tiredly and said, "We'll talk about this later. Show me your hand."

Elsa, on her part, breathed out with relief and lowered her hand onto the table for Marshmallow to examine. He grabbed some gauze and other things he found in the first aid kit and laid them near her hand. He gently took her hand in his and removed the piece of cloth.

"Wait," said Elsa as soon as she became aware of the pain once again. "Promise you'll be careful."

"I know what I'm doing," he said, more upset than Elsa expected him to be. "I'll stop the bleeding and then take you to the hospital."

"No!" Elsa said, moving her hand away from his.

Annoyed by the fact Elsa had moved her hand as if he had done something wrong, he said, "Elsa, you can trust me."

"No. I do trust you," she clarified. "I meant no hospital. Just pack the wound. There's no need to go to the hospital."

"Give me your hand, please." It was clear he wasn't sure what had gotten into Elsa, but he was getting tired. "I won't argue about this."

"I won't go to the hospital, Marshall."

"If I can't help you properly, you will."

"I mean it."

Elsa could see how annoyed he was at her stubbornness, and for a moment she wondered what he was going to do to force her into submission. She didn't care what he was planning, she wasn't going to risk everything on that stupid argument. She was ready to fight back if needed.

To her surprise, Marshall heaved and asked for her hand again in a calmer tone of voice, instead of arguing. Showing Elsa he accepted her terms.

She extended her hand and let him hold it in his once again.

"Try to look elsewhere if blood makes you uncomfortable," he said, in a very professional tone of voice she had never heard him use. "I promise I'll be careful."

Elsa nodded and focused her attention on her powers. The stupid argument had made her lose concentration and she had to regain some control over her body.

She watched him work and clean the wound. It didn't go unnoticed the way he scoffed and the way he kept inspecting her wound. "Everything okay?" she asked.

Marshall ignored her and grabbed a pair of small pliers from inside the first-aid kit.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"I told you I need to make sure the wound is clean," he said, trying to help her relax. "I noticed a small shard of glass while I was rinsing your hand. I need to get it out."

That explained the pain she felt whenever she flexed her hand, and why she felt as if the wound kept reopening all the time.

She knew Marshall was doing the right thing since they couldn't leave a piece of glass inside, but she was afraid of what would happen once he removed it. Marshall was working dangerously close to her hand, and any mistake could lead to an accident. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"Either you let me work or I will take you to the hospital," he said, exasperatedly.

"Fine!" she retorted. "Just be careful, please." Part of her wished she had listened to Anna and she had told Marshall all about her powers a long time ago. That way, she wouldn't feel so guilty of constantly telling him what to do and he wouldn't be so careless whenever he worked near her hand. If she had, he would know it wasn't that she didn't trust him. She didn't trust herself.

Marshall simply ignored her and continued working, trying to take the small shard out. "Try not to be so tense," he said as he got the small shard with the pliers. "You might feel some p–" he tried to say, but didn't get to finish. A blinding light exploded between the two of them, and Marshall threw the pliers on top of the table. The burning sensation he felt made it impossible to hold them any longer.

The sharp pain caused Elsa to complain, shutting her eyes in the process. She felt the shard being pulled out and for a moment she thought they had made it. She believed it was only a matter of time until Marshall stopped the bleeding and closed the wound. But when she opened her eyes, Marshall wasn't paying attention to her or her bleeding hand anymore. He was looking at the ceiling, as if it was about to fall down.

She looked up, trying to understand what had called his attention, and then she saw it. Most of the ceiling was covered in ice, as if an icy blast had hit it. Elsa's blood ran cold at the realisation… She had let her concentration break. She had almost struck Marshall in the head, and the blast of ice had hit the ceiling. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Marshmallow, are you okay?!" she asked, afraid something had happened to her friend.

"What the…?" mumbled Marshall, still looking at the ceiling. He was still trying to understand what had happened in the lapse of a second, but nothing seemed to make sense. "What the hell just happened?"

"Are you okay?!" repeated Elsa in despair.

"I just–" He stopped himself. He tried to find the words to explain what he had just seen, but it seemed impossible. "I don't know what happened."

"Marshall, look at me, please!" she begged. He wasn't paying much attention to her. "Are you hurt?" She was already shaking and she wasn't sure she could stop her powers from manifesting once again.

Elsa's desperate tone of voice surprised him. Tearing his gaze away from the ceiling, he looked back at her. "Elsa, what is going on?" he asked incredulously.

"I'm sorry." Tears were already streaming down her face. "I didn't mean to– I tried to control it, but the pain made me–" She couldn't breathe. She could feel her powers asking to be released a second time as her lungs began to beg for air.

"What are you talking about?" Marshall's confusion turned into worry when he realised Elsa had started to cry. "What is going on?"

"I'm not– I'm–" She couldn't find the words nor the courage to tell him what had happened. "You need to go," she managed to say in between sobs.

"What?"

"Marshall, leave." She took a deep breath trying to calm herself down. "Please." She then stood up, ready to leave the room, hoping Marshall would understand she needed to be alone.

"Leave?" he asked, still trying to comprehend what the hell had happened. One moment he was trying to help Elsa with a minor wound, and the next he was looking at an ice-covered ceiling. And now, Elsa was making no sense. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on!"

"Please," cried Elsa. "You don't understand…Get out of the house, Marshall!"

"No, I don't understand, Elsa. That's why–" The sound of ice cracking on top of them called Marshall's attention. He stood up, alarmed. He didn't understand what was going on and Elsa's distress only made matters worse.

Elsa didn't need to look up to know the ice on the ceiling was growing. She needed to calm down or leave the house before she made any more damage that had already been done. Not thinking twice about it, she ran out of the kitchen and rushed to the front door. It was best for her to leave.

"Els, wait! It'll be okay." He wasn't sure what he was talking about, but he needed Elsa to believe his words to be true. He needed her to calm down.

"No, it won't!" said Elsa as she got to the door. "I've got to go."

She didn't get to open it before Marshall put his hand on it, keeping the door closed. He was towering over her. His arm extended over her head, making sure the door didn't move. "Why?" he asked.

Elsa noticed he was trying to remain calm. But part of her knew he wouldn't be if he understood what she had done. She tried to even her breathing. To get a grip on her emotions and force the ice to obey her. But she was failing miserably, she could hear the ice from the other room. "Because I can't keep doing this! I can't keep holding it in!" she yelled when she realised, she was losing the battle against herself.

He blinked a few times, trying one more time to make sense of everything going on around him. He then frowned and asked, "What?"

"Let me out!" Pushing him on the chest with her good hand, Elsa forced him to take a step backwards. She turned around as fast as she could and tried to open the door.

"No." He grabbed her good hand and abruptly slammed the door closed once again. Marshall held her hand close to his chest, making sure she didn't try to push him once again

The door was shut and Marshall had her cornered against it. It was clear he wasn't planning on letting her go anywhere soon. "Marshall, please, let me go," she tried once again.

"I need you to calm down, Els," he said quietly. "You'll hurt yourself, your hand is still bleeding." He gestured to her left hand which was dripping blood on the floor. "Where are you going?"

"I need to get out of here," she said, her voice just a whisper.

Marshall didn't yield. He tightened his grip on her hand just enough for her to pay attention to him, but making sure he didn't hurt her. "Stop. Please, stop, Elsa." He was getting more and more worried. "I'm not letting you go until you explain to me what the hell is going on. What's gotten into you?"

"I need to get out of here," she repeated, louder this time.

Not knowing what else to do, he leaned over until he was looking into her eyes. "I won't hurt you, Elsa. Trust me," he whispered. "I only want to help you."

"I don't want to hurt you…" she confessed, holding back her tears and sobs with an effort.

"Hurt me? What are you talk–?" he tried to ask, but something cold falling on top of his head distracted him. Looked up and noticed there was white powder falling all around them. "Is this… snow?" he asked, in disbelief.

"I didn't mean to blast the ceiling." More tears rolled down her cheeks and she buried her face in his shoulder. "I can't control it. I'm sorry," she said. His clothes were muffling her voice, but Elsa knew he heard her correctly.

"Blast the–?" He stopped talking and looked up. There was more snow than before, and he was starting to feel the cold. At that moment, he became aware of how utterly freezing Elsa's hand was.

Elsa began to cry harder, not knowing what else to do. She wanted to leave. She wasn't sure she could keep her powers under control any other second. Little by little, she felt like losing her grip.

"Hey, hey," said Marshmallow reassuringly, calling her attention. He let go of her hand, and put both of his hands on her shoulders. He found her gaze and said, "It's okay. I'm just having a hard time understanding everything that's going on right now." He waited for her to meet his eyes and continued, "I need you to calm down and be honest… Are you the one who–?" He shook his head to clear his mind. "I must be losing my mind," he mumbled, before he finally asked his question. "Are you the one making the ice and snow?"

An almost imperceptible nod was Elsa's only answer."


This chapter was supposed to be ready last week. But I kept writing and adding things here or there, I even wrote a whole new scene for it. And today, I realised I had written and added so many things, the chapter was over 9000 words long. It was too long. So instead of delaying it for another week until I polished the new scenes, I decided to upload half of it. What I'm trying to say with all of this is… This could have been posted last week, haha.

The bright side is. I've got the next chapter almost ready. And… I start my holidays this Friday. Everything indicates I'll be able to post Chapter 30 before Christmas! (In Olaf's words, "It's a Christmas miracle!").

Anyway, thanks to all of you who have left reviews and comments on my story. I can't thank you guys enough. Thanks to the encouraging messages you send to remind me it's been a while since I posted. I know you guys are eagerly waiting for more. So, you ask, I deliver. Kinda.

In case I don't upload a new chapter before the 21st or 22nd, happy solstice everybody! (I don't know, I just wanted to wish a happy "something", and it's too early to wish a happy new year.)

Please, review and comment if you like this chapter! Or the story. Or if you want to make a girl on the other side of the world smile :)

Read you soon, guys!