Saturday, and I'm leaning hard on the dyna-drill to get some chem-set studs installed to anchor down a new safety platform. Okay, so it's drilling first, then vacuum the powdered concrete out of the holes, then mix the chem-set, then install the thread bar to use as studs. It sounds like a lot, and I remember the first time I explained the process to you. Hah, your face when I continued with how simple it really was: drill holes; squirt in goo; push in thread bar. I guess, on the flip side, you often surprised me with how complex dance could be too.

So, working at Naveen's. Twenty-odd years working here, I think. Well, working on site anyway—I don't think I'd have been happy just as a site engineer. Especially as they don't do much heavy fabrication here. Though I guess the technical aspect of a lot of the machinery would be interesting. Is interesting, I mean. It's also just me and Kristoff here today. Audrey and Maurice are back at the workshop doing some of that aforementioned heavy fabrication on yet another parts stand.

The plant is changing—or replacing some equipment and integrating some new stuff—as the business grows even more. Naveen's wines and spirits are kind of a big thing, and not just locally. He's changing out one of the lower rate beer bottling lines for another wine line. A different plant can do that beer, and reduce transport costs by bottling closer to the main point of sale. And all this, is just random thoughts about everything we've heard while doing a couple of jobs here earlier in the week.

"Anna?" Kristoff's giving me a slight frown.

I set the drill aside for a moment. "Something wrong?"

"You zoning out a bit?" He's looking past me, at the holes I've drilled and he's cleaned so far.

I look at the pattern of holes around and behind me, the templates we marked out. "Just thinking about whether Naveen's gonna ask us to do more with the plant change-up. I think it'd be a fun job."

"Maybe, but it'd probably just be conveyor work here. Anything big would be in the workshop, like usual." He gives me a mischievous grin. "And your drilling is off by half a degree."

I don't say anything, I just poke my tongue at him.

"Well, two to go, then we can get the studs in."

"Shouldn't be long," I agree with what he's left unsaid. "Then smoko, and install the platform after that."

"That should do us for the day. If it winds up being a bit early we can go and help the others in the workshop."

Drilling is easy, and we've cleaned as we moved along, so installing the thread bar studs is easy. Even if the grip on the chem-set gun is a little stiff trying to move the stuff through it. So we take turns with that, and with poking the studs into the holes. The squish is actually kind of satisfying, getting the chem-set compound to just the right level, and making sure enough thread remains exposed to take the platform feet and the nuts on top of that.

Then it really is time for a break, enjoying being able to stretch backwards and lie on one of the outside benches during smoko. The snow from the morning had already thawed and run off, so it's not even damp. And it was only a light snow too. I'm enjoying the chill too, rugged up under my overalls. The sun's not too bright, there's barely any wind, and not a cloud in the sky. Sure, it'll be freezing tonight. But that's tonight, not now.

Thinking of that, I know both Tina and Bex are visiting Joan right now. They might still be there when we get home, but I'm not worried about them. Not anymore. Joan is showing a lot more maturity, and the other girls are helping her with 'some stuff', as she puts it. I'm letting her keep those secrets, even if I sometimes try to pry. Okay, often—but you know how I feel about being excluded from things. I'm glad they're happy, and that they've found each other.

Kristoff sticks his head out the door.

I sit up, looking at the cafeteria clock through the side window here. I shrug, getting to my feet. Time to get back to work.

It's simple, but non-trivial. Because there's alignment, then getting it down straight, and only loosely securing the locking nuts—too much and the thread bar will just pull out covered with the goo that's supposed to keep it cemented in place. Then we have to bolt on the siderails. Do another check to make sure all doors and access panels still clear this platform. It's not that long, but still a little longer than we thought. Long enough that driving back to the workshop takes the remaining short stretch of working day, so we just empty the van, and help Audrey and Maurice close up.

Traffic is light, meaning I don't have too long to get my thoughts in order before we get home. Given that Joan invited them, and after lunch—we discussed it earlier in the week—I have to wonder if the intent is to stay for dinner. Or even longer. But they have had the house to themselves for the afternoon. I put the thought aside. Just because I did doesn't mean she will. I smile, remembering something about a 'stay at home honeymoon'. The smile fades as I remember why. The new treatments, postponed until just after our wedding. I remember pleading with you to change the drug, or the dose. I think you did, after a stubborn week of being terribly sick and horribly fatigued.

I shake my head to clear it. We're already home.

Bex and Tina are in the lounge room with Joan. I can hear a car pulling up outside, and out the window I can see it's Cara's sedan. Turning around and I see a lot of kissing. Everyone gets a turn, and no one even seems to care that I'm in the room, or that Kristoff is walking past to put the keys away. Then Joan winks at me and ushers the other girls out the door. Only then does she start to blush.

"Oh, come on, mom…"

I just raise a single eyebrow. "No, I'm not saying anything."

"You're thinking it." She fixes me with a hard stare.

"Actually, I was just thinking that I'm glad you three get to be happy like that—and that you must be pretty comfortable with each other to kiss like that with me around."

"Well…" there's a drawn out silence. "Yeah. Yeah, we are happy." Joan smiles softly—more to herself than me, I think—and continues. "I guess we are comfortable with showing it, too."

"And I still get to learn nothing." I let out a frustrated sigh, then hold up a hand. "It's not about you, it's about me, and being excluded from things. Especially when you use it to tease me, like the other day."

And here she gives me an evil grin. "Well, I have to get you back for some things that maybe I'd rather not have known about my mothers' sex lives. Then and now."

"Also…" I gesture towards the door, hearing Cara pulling away. "They didn't want to stay for dinner?"

"Tink and Bex already made plans for a movie thing." Joan smiles at me again. "Not my kind of movie—actually, Bex likes my kind of movies."

"So she's doing this for Tina." I grin at her. "I can put the pieces together."

"Maybe you can tell me another piece about Elsa instead…"

"We were watching the show again…"

–∞–

I lay back on the couch, and Elsa lay next to me, an arm around my shoulders. Her other arm—or other hand—was in a glove, and under my shirt. She'd proposed to me two days ago. Proposed. I was her fiancé now—and she was mine. I pulled out my right hand and just stared at the ring again. Somehow it made it more real. I turned around to kiss her again, on the cheek.

"I need to get you a ring."

She fished out the snowflake pendant from under her shirt. "This is more than enough, Anniken. A ring is not necessary."

"But… shouldn't I have something to put on your finger?"

"You are meaning a wedding ring, yes?" She pulled me close, no longer playing, just a hug. "I was thinking we can choose together. And, I am also thinking that you are distracting yourself."

"I'm lying on the couch, under blankets, watching cartoons with my girlfri—fiancé. What could I possibly be distracting myself from?"

"Your therapy session tomorrow." It was blunt, but I needed it.

I was silent.

"I am knowing you are not liking recalling some memories," and here she paused the show. "but it is doing you good. Afterwards you are seeming lighter, more willing to try things, being vulnerable with me. It is helping you."

"I know," I shook my head violently. "I just—it's—okay, fine. It's hard, and I don't like feeling those things when you're not there to comfort me."

"I'm sorry," she kissed the top of my head. "I'm sorry I cannot be there with you. I am sorry it is feeling like you are alone when you feel these things."

I turned to her again. "I know I'm not. Not really. I could just call you. I have before—I remember you calling me a bitch for the hot chocolate thing."

We both laughed at that.

"I'll be okay. I'll call you after."

She unpaused the show.

"I know you're worried too," I kept my voice soft. "I saw you got a message from 'punzie. It kinda makes it feel more real, doesn't it?"

"If I am watching this, with you, my mind does not worry for a time." And that was more honesty than I was expecting.

"Then let's keep—wait, that's… and he was helping…"

I'm pretty sure we watched up nearly to the send of the first season that night. It was—is—a damn good series. Well, I was watching. My fiancé was doing things under my clothes from time to time. I didn't mind. I had spent most of the previous night doing very similar things to her. After all, she had just proposed to me.

Wednesday rolled around all too quickly. Styx and Stones was becoming a familiar sight, and I hoped that was a good thing. Just out in the courtyard in front of the building I saw the woman with the pink and purple hair again. I searched around for the name. Percy-something. No, Doctor Spiros had just called her Percy. But for some reason I was reminded of Elsa's performance. Of her character. And somehow Hades, even in that ancient Greek robe, had reminded me of Doctor Spiros. I shook my head to clear it. It had to be some kind of weird coincidence.

He was already in his office when I arrived, still with his previous patient. I wanted to be frustrated about it, but I kind of felt like it was karma. I recalled that at least three times I'd done the same to the patient after me. So, I just sat there, and played games on my phone, waiting until I was called in. Which, to be fair, didn't take that long.

"Ah, miss Christian, if you'd like to come into my office?"

I followed him, sitting heavily on one of the bean-bags instead of the usual couch. The lights around the room were dimmed, with a soft orange glow. I frowned and tilted my head in a silent question.

"Would you like me to change the lights?" Doctor Spiros smiled for me. "I found a small program that lets me customise a surprising number of things."

"Just a bit brighter," I looked around the room again. "I think I like the colour. It seems relaxing."

"Very well." The lights brightened. "How are you feeling today, miss Christian?"

"Less nervous, I guess, and maybe a little impatient, but I think maybe that that's also a little bit of karma. It's not their fault."

"Very good. Is there anything in particular you'd like to discuss today?"

"I think a couple of things, and more, but the big one is breaking down when Elsa proposed to me and also being jealous when she kissed that other dancer during the show but I think that one's probably on me because she probably did tell me about it and I probably wasn't paying enough attention—like when she explained the rest of the dance—but the proposal thing is kind of big. I… it was like… but there's no way it could be…"

"We should start there today—are you able to tell me what was happening at the time?"

I thought back. Parts of it were still crystal clear in my mind. Others slightly less so. "Well, it wasn't actually the proposal I broke down for, it was kind of—everything before it? She wanted to show me a whole day, just for me, with her doing everything—except cooking, never let her cook for you, by the way—and it was so much. She said it was to say thank you for helping her cope with her dance rehearsals and the big performance the previous week. Last week. Anyway, breakfast in bed, a day out on the town, massages, and then a fancy—really, really fancy—restaurant for dinner.

"Okay, I know some of it was to hide her nerves over the proposal, but for me it was—everything. It just came crashing down at dinner. She's dressed up so damn fine, and I'm in a dress, and then my mind is just asking when it's all going to be taken away from me. Like it's just a dream, and… and then she's sitting on the floor, next to me, helping me up. She even offered to take me home, if that was what I wanted… fuck. I don't know." I threw my hands up in frustration. "I don't know, it's bugging the hell out of me because it's nothing like anything else, not like… the other times."

Doctor Spiros leaned forwards in his chair, setting his clipboard aside for a moment. "It sounds to me as if you were simply overwhelmed by a combination of experiences, and did not have sufficient time to process them—emotionally, that is."

I just frowned at him.

"When you have a string of emotional experiences in a very short time, and don't take a moment to work through those emotions it can create a backlog that takes time for your subconscious to process. Adding even more experiences—especially intense ones—positive or negative can cause this to overflow. This 'breakdown' was your mind's way of telling you that it was trying to do too much, and didn't have space left."

"So I just wind up sitting on the floor, crying about it?" I gave Doctor Spiros a deeply skeptical look.

"In the simplest sense, yes." He spread his hands wide. "Now, I know we have spoken of the usefulness of so-called negative emotions…"

"Umm…" I frowned again, this time in concentration. "So, overwhelmed. Sadness. Crying. I needed… attention, caring. Because…?" I couldn't think of the next part.

"Because you were afraid it would all be taken away from you."

I buried my head in my hands. "I said that, didn't I?"

"You did." He nodded kindly. "So, that leads to the real question you want to ask."

"Why did I think like that?" I asked it as a question of a question. Because, looking back at it, why did I think that? Part of it has to do with Hans, I'm sure. The way he treated me. Any time he did something remotely kind, or got a gift for me, there were… expectations. He'd remind me every time. Make me do things for him. Let him do things to me. There was always a cost behind everything he did. And this—this was Elsa just being nice. It didn't make sense that there was no cost. I mean, it did, but also, my mind couldn't make sense of it. Not with all my past experiences.

I relayed my thoughts to Doctor Spiros. He smiled warmly for me. "That summary is showing a much improved sense of self-awareness. Figuring out and understanding these things is not always easy, but it's an excellent first step. I believe this may also tie in to how you are unable to accept that Elsa is offering you all of her love, and that often you think of yourself as 'just' an engineer."

"I think I follow…"

"Very good." He scribbled a few more notes as he spoke. "I believe the root of this problem is that you don't feel worthy of receiving these things. It is an issue of how you see yourself in relation to others, and in relation to the world. For a very long time you were trapped in a desperate situation, and made to feel worthless in many ways. You were in survival mode. This not uncommon in cases of ongoing abuse. It will take time, and likely a lot of work to make yourself feel whole and worthy again. It might be hard, needing to put yourself first, at times, but in the end, it will be worth it. I promise you that."

"That…" I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "That sounds like a lot."

"And that is why we work in small steps. You are someone who likes measurable goals, and the ability to see progress being made. When dealing with emotions and recovery this can be vey difficult to do—along with the times when you might feel like you've hit a plateau, or even started to backslide. So, to help, I would suggest you start journaling over the next couple of weeks. Consider it homework, it you have to. At the end of each day, write a quick summary of events, and how you felt about said events. Then, before our next session, re-read your journal. You might be surprised at what progress looks like."

"I—" I looked at the clock in the alcove where Doctor Spiros kept his computer. "Oh. Can I ask one more thing quickly?"

"Of course, miss Christian."

"I said I felt jealous when Elsa kissed the other dancer in her performance. Is that wrong?"

"Did you act on the feeling, or just feel it, and let it pass?"

"I just felt it—it was pretty strong—then thought I should talk to you about it."

"You had no desire to act against, or question, Elsa or the person she kissed?"

"Uhh… no." I frowned, trying to recall. "Technically? I just wanted to ask Elsa if she'd told me about it."

"Then I believe there was nothing wrong with that feeling. You saw your girlfriend kissing another person, and in that moment wanted what someone else was getting. That is normal, and human."

"Thank you," I smiled, quickly checking my phone. "I'll see you next time."

"Next time, miss Christian."

As I left, it occurred to me that was the first time I really had felt better after a therapy session. A lot better. And that it was also the first time I might be looking forward to the next session. I guess that means I am making progress. But I had forgotten something important.

Elsa called me while I was on the way home, so I had to pull over to answer properly.

"Anniken, was it so bad you could not even call me?" I could hear the worry in her voice.

"No, no," I had to reassure her quickly. "It was… good. I didn't need the recovery room, so I was coming straight home."

"Was?"

"Well, right now I'm parked on the side of the road, talking to my girl—to my fiancé—about being forgetful."

"But you are getting better." I heard a grunt of pain, or maybe frustration. "I think I might not be. There are cramps."

"I could give you a little massage when you get home."

"I would like that, Anniken." Elsa's voice had already lifted. I knew she was looking forward to it. "I will see you then."

"See you then."

–∞–

"And then what?" Joan's looking at me with some frustration.

"I had a snack. Elsa got home, and I gave her a massage while we watched some more of that cartoon. It was just a nice, lazy afternoon."

Joan frowns at me. I give her a significant look. She blushes slightly, looking away. "No, you're right to stop there then." She sighs heavily. "This one is my fault."

"It's okay," I pull her into a loose, one-armed hug. "I know how much you like hearing about our story. How you like the way I tell it, bringing Elsa to life for you."

"I do." I catch that little smile, the one she's sure I haven't seen.

"So, can I ask how things are going between you, and Tina, and Bex?" I gesture with one hand for her to open up. "I'm guessing it's going well, but I'd like to know more—if you're willing to tell me about it."

"Well, Tink and Bex have their movie date tonight. I'm going out with Bex next week, and I think she might be interested in sword fighting. She says she's not big on team stuff, but wants good exercise."

"Sounds like Bex is the lucky one this week." It's an off-hand comment.

Joan just shrugs. "I guess." She's really not giving me any more than that, even if I do see another one of those supposedly secret smiles.

"Well, if I can't get any more information, I guess it's time to get started on dinner."

She frowns, then sits up. "I'll help."

Of course that's going to make me suspicious. I see the grin, and the way she flicks her hair over her shoulder. She's doing this on purpose. Because I like to talk while working in the kitchen. And because she does not have to answer any of my questions about their relationship. Sure, she might be teasing me, but she's growing up too—and it makes me proud.