#sosken

Despite missing the quiet evenings with her mother from time to time, she was thankful Kristoff had asked her to live together before Elsa’s ordeal began. Not only was his apartment significantly closer to the clinic, but she was glad she didn’t need to come home to the uncomfortable tension between her parents every evening —especially not after having been sitting in the waiting room for hours.

There were days she wondered what their arguments were about. Most of the time they were about Elsa, she knew. But she had never felt comfortable staying long enough to find out what exactly they were saying. Something deep inside told her it was best that way.

As she left her bag on the floor to then hang her coat, she thought back to the last time she had entered the house. Agdar and Idunn had been engrossed in a fight, and instead of trying to intervene, she had simply rushed upstairs, picked some clothes and left before they had the chance to even notice her presence.

Deep down she hoped this time would be different and she’d be able to enjoy a quiet evening with them instead.

“Anna?”

She heard her mother’s voice coming from the kitchen. A moment later, Idunn walked into the hall, her expression lighting up as soon as she saw her.

“Oh, sweetheart…” She closed the distance between them quickly, reaching for Anna’s face before she pulled her into her arms. “It’s been days.”

Sinking into the warmth of her mother’s arms, Anna let herself enjoy the comfort she offered.

“I know,” Anna murmured. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited. Things have been— It’s been hard.”

Idunn pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. “I can imagine,” she whispered, her voice laced with sadness. She then frowned, brushing Anna’s hair back behind her ear. “You look exhausted.”

Anna gave a small, tired laugh. Her mother had always read her like an open book. “Kristoff hasn’t been sleeping much these past few weeks. I’ve been keeping him company.”

Idunn’s shoulders slumped, the relief at seeing her quickly being replaced by deep concern for their wellbeing. "Poor thing. He must be so worried. At least he can now visit her."

Anna let go of her mother and gave a small shrug. “We only got the chance to see her for the first time two days ago.”

Idunn frowned with confusion. “I thought you said the doctor was going to let you see her last week.”

“That was the plan,” Anna explained. She kneeled to take some books out of her bag and then hung it next to her jacket. “Nielsen pushed the date back. Elsa was still too weak and confused. She had to stay in the ICU for a couple more days.”

Closing her eyes, her mother took a deep breath before she asked, “How is she now?”

Anna hesitated for a moment. Despite knowing there was no reason to lie to her mother, she couldn’t stand the dejected look in her eyes whenever they talked about Elsa’s health.

“She’s in a lot of pain,” she finally admitted. “She’s on painkillers, anxiolytics and… and I don’t know what else. It’s hard to keep track of everything they tell us.”

“I can’t believe a simple cut can cause all of this,” Idunn murmured, as if she was merely thinking out loud. “If I had known…”

Raising an eyebrow, Anna looked at her expecting her to finish the idea.

Waving a hand in front of her, Idunn dismissed it. “It’s hard to imagine a home accident can put your health at risk like this. That’s all.”

Anna nodded briefly and opened her mouth to reply, though the smell of something burning caught her attention. “Talking about accidents… Did you turn off the stove?”

“Oh, no,” exclaimed Idunn as she rushed into the kitchen. “No, no.”

Anna shook her head and followed her mother, a small smile tugging at her lips. She could only hope whatever she had been cooking was still edible.

Before going into the kitchen, Anna detoured to her father’s office to return the books he had lent her. A pile of scattered papers and folders on top of his desk caught her eye, making her curious.

Knowing one day she would be expected to take over the company, Anna began inspecting the balance sheets and reports. Everything belonged to ArenCo, like she had suspected, and half the things were documents she barely understood.

Letting out a tired sigh, she remembered she was supposed to start learning more about the family business sooner or later. She had never paid too much attention to it before; but knowing about Elsa's existence, about her struggles, and now the possibility of her not recovering entirely, she wanted to make sure their part of the company would be secure and profitable. It was the very least she could do for her sister.

Absent-mindedly, she kept looking at the documents while her mind wandered back to Elsa. Despite the doctors’ original prognosis, she trusted Elsa to be stubborn enough to overcome whatever was coming now and prove doctors wrong. But even if she did, Elsa still had a long way to go.

“It is a big step.” Gerda had said, talking about Elsa standing. “But she won’t get up and walk out of here in a week. There will be a lot of pain. A lot of frustration… And days where she won’t want to try at all.”

The idea of her sister not wanting to try was what scared her the most. She wasn’t entirely sure how to help if it came to that. And she wasn't sure how it could affect Kristoff.

Shaking her head, Anna tried to stay positive. She needed to see Elsa’s first steps as what they were, the first steps to her recovery, not something to brush off.

Anna put the books away in the bookshelf, and only when she turned to leave did she notice her father’s handwriting standing out in red over one of the balance sheets. Negative numbers were scrawled over the printed figures, marking a substantial withdrawal. Hundreds of thousands had been taken from the company’s funds, and for a moment she wondered how such a large amount had gone over the accountants' heads.

Elsa’s expenses then came to mind.

She picked the balance sheet and inspected it. The notes underneath seemed to be a reminder of some kind. A conversation Agdar still needed to have with someone inside the company. Her sister’s name was among those notes, proving her right.

Anna was grateful her father had the means to cover Elsa’s hospitalization. Her in-laws and Kristoff could’ve never shouldered such an overwhelming debt on their own, no matter how hard they tried. Still, she couldn’t help wondering if there existed the chance Haugen could ask for more money before Elsa was discharged from the clinic. And if the company would be willing to shoulder those expenses as well.

Cold fear ran down her spine, like a bucket of ice water dumped over her shoulders. Seeing those numbers, scrawled over the balance sheet like a warning. It reminded her Elsa wasn’t safe. Her health was only part of the reason to worry, and Anna was running out of reasons to stay hopeful.

“Dinner isn't entirely ruined!” She heard her mother calling from the kitchen, startling her.

Knowing it was a matter of time until Idunn came looking for her. She placed the sheet back onto the desk, she took one more deep breath and tried to get a grip of her emotions before she met her mother again.

---

As soon as Anna entered the kitchen, Idunn could tell something was wrong.

She looked distracted, her gaze far off and her shoulders hunched in a way that hadn’t been mere minutes before. It was like the weight of some invisible truth had settled over her, like she’d received terrible news in the time she walked from the front door to the kitchen.

Idunn missed the days when Anna would come straight to her with whatever was on her mind. She missed the way they used to talk without all these careful silences. Their relationship had changed. They both had. Somewhere along the way, it had morphed into something Idunn barely recognized, and she wasn’t sure how to start fixing their strained relationship.

She hoped that spending this quiet evening together, after so long, would help them narrow the breach between them. And more importantly, she hoped Anna’d feel comfortable sharing whatever had got grip of her thoughts.

“I was making pasta,” Idunn said after a long silence. She lifted the lid from the pot to reveal the burnt remnants of the sauce inside. “This was supposed to be bolognese…” The smell said otherwise. It was sharp and bitter. Still, the sight drew a faint chuckle from both of them, even when their smiles didn’t reach their eyes.

“Is cheese sauce okay?” she asked, reaching for another pot. She’d prepare anything that’d help lift her daughter’s spirits.

Anna smiled and nodded, but remained concerningly quiet otherwise. She simply slid into her usual seat at the kitchen table, and watched her cook.

Idunn prepared the ingredients she needed in silence. And began stealing glances over her shoulder as she cooked.

Anna looked tired. Worn out in a way that she hasn't seen before. Like the last few weeks —months truly— had finally caught up with her.

At the sight, Idunn couldn’t help but remember Elsa. Thinking back to the last time she had seen her before the hospital. She had sat in that same chair. Thin, quiet, eyes sunken with exhaustion.

Pain and regret pulled at Idunn’s heart right then. She’d had the chance to help. She’d known something wasn’t right but hadn’t done enough. She didn't want to be the one to push too hard, the fear of losing her stopped her from doing what she knew was best. She now hated herself for putting her own fears before Elsa’s needs that day. If only she had driven her to the ER, she might have kept her from ending up in the hospital. Maybe even spared her the heartache of hearing what Agdar had said as well.

The silence between mother and daughter stretched, and Idunn couldn’t hold herself back any longer.

“You were telling me about Elsa,” she finally said, her voice gentle, afraid any wrong word would drive her younger daughter away as well.

Anna hesitated like there were too many things to say. Idunn could see the way her daughter’s jaw tightened, trying to find a version of the truth that didn’t hurt to speak out loud.

“I spent most of the day with her on Thursday,” Anna said eventually, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Gerda let me stay with her. Keep them both company.”

Idunn sighed, a small smile drawing in her face despite the pain she felt for not being the one there by their daughters’ side. She was thankful life had allowed Elsa into Gerda’s life. As well as Anna. She was certain the woman loved them both and was doing everything in her power to protect them in her own way.

“She’s recovering. Sort of. Slowly…” Anna trailed off.

There was a heaviness in Anna’s voice. Something that told Idunn she wasn’t being completely honest, or in the very least, trying hard to make things look better than they were.

“I wish I could do something. Help in any way,” Idunn admitted.

“You and Dad are helping. What you’re giving her is more than Kai or Gerda could ever pay on short notice.”

Anna meant well, but the words hit differently. Money didn’t fix things. Not this. Not what had been said or what was left unsaid for too many years. “It isn’t the same, dear. We aren’t helping Elsa overcome any of it with just money.”

“Maybe you can be there for her now. Show her you care,” Anna said with a sad smile. “Gerda says she’ll probably have a hard time dealing with everything that happened to her in the last month. Having people who care around might be the best for her.”

“I don’t think I’d be welcome.”

“You’re family.”

Idunn let out a soft breath. “I wasn’t there when she needed me the most, Anna. I can’t pretend otherwise. I don’t want to force myself into her life if she doesn’t want me there.”

Anna hesitated for a moment. “You want to see her, don’t you?”

Her fingers tightened around the dishcloth in her hand. The question hurt, no matter how innocently Anna had meant it to be. The question felt too direct, trying to expose something that wasn’t there.

“Of course I do. It’s been hard staying at home… Waiting,” she said. Her voice was low, slightly offended, but Idunn gave a faint shake of her head, getting rid of the feeling. “I still think it’s best to wait. At least until she’s feeling better.”

Anna didn’t argue, but she still looked unconvinced. Idunn knew she was in the right to doubt her. The thing is, she was afraid of walking into Elsa’s life too soon. Too fast. She did agree Elsa needed all the help she could get, especially now that she was inside that clinic, surrounded by unreliable people.

Making up her mind, Idunn left the kitchen and made her way to the living room. She needed to prove —even if it was with something small— that she was thinking of Elsa. That she did care.

Quickly searching on her bookshelf, she found the book she’d set aside earlier that week. It was old and it portrayed several characters on the cover, among them a familiar snowman. The edition was different, older, an anthology of short stories. But she knew, without a doubt, Elsa would enjoy it. That it would help her get her mind off things for a while.

When she turned around, she saw Anna standing not far from her, intrigued by what she was doing.

“I’ve got something she might like,” Idunn said. “Days have been quiet without you here. I’ve been helping Helga at the shop during the afternoons—it helps keep my mind busy. She found it while going through some boxes in the back. I bought it for her.”

She held the book out to her, and Anna took it gently, her thumb brushing over its worn edges. 

“Maybe she’d like something to keep her mind entertained.”

Anna’s expression shifted. She blinked at the cover, recognition dawning in her eyes. “This is—”

The corners of Idunn’s lips lifted as she nodded. “Didn’t you say she loved the other one?”

“You should be the one giving it to her this time,” Anna said straight away.

Idunn’s smile faltered. “Who knows when I’ll get to see her. You better give it to her.”

Anna frowned. “Mum, it’s from you.”

Though Idunn was already turning back towards the kitchen. It hurt to make that choice. She wanted to agree with Anna in a heartbeat. She wanted to use this or any other excuse to go see Elsa. But she couldn’t ignore the hurt in Elsa’s face the last time they saw each other. She might not have said anything, but she was begging her to let her go, not to force her way into her life. Especially not after Agdar’s admission.

“I don’t want to intrude,” she said when Anna called her name again.

Anna sat back down and stopped insisting when she noticed she wouldn’t change her mind. She looked down at the book, turning a few pages absent-mindedly.

Silence fell between them, and Idunn felt guilty for ignoring Anna’s wishes. Things weren’t so simple, and there was no right way to explain her reasons without breaking Elsa’s promise.

“Where’s Dad?” Anna asked after a while, when the food was ready and Idunn asked her to put the book away.

“He’s been working late these last few days,” Idunn replied, reaching for the dishes in an attempt to avoid any further questions.

The truth was, Agdar had been working late most days, coming home long after she’d had dinner. He always apologized. For being late, for forgetting to call. And the apology was real, so was the reason. Still, there was a distance between them that neither knew how to bridge, and Idunn wasn’t entirely sure she cared.

She hadn’t forgiven him for the pain he had inflicted on Elsa. It had been too blunt for her to brush off. They were both responsible for their choices, but his words had caused damage. Irreversible damage. The kind that settled deep and didn’t go away just because he said sorry.

“Will he join us for dinner?” Anna asked, unsure what her silence meant.

“I don’t know,” Idunn admitted. She didn’t want to tell her something had broken between them, but she wouldn’t lie for him either. “He hasn’t called.”

---

Cold air swept into the room, chilling Kristoff to the bone. The last hour or so he had made an effort to tolerate it, but as the night set in, it was becoming more and more unbearable.

The cold wasn't coming from the open window alone. Kristoff knew that much. There was something else than the crisp autumn air. It was the kind of cold that would creep under his sister's bedroom door late at night when they were younger. The kind that had hung in the air the first few months she had come to live with them. The exact kind that let him know she wasn’t having a good day.

Shaking his head, he tried not to think too much about it. He hated those moments when he became overly aware of his sister’s powers. When the bitterness towards them controlled his thoughts and he couldn’t focus on anything else. It wasn’t that he didn’t accept them, but it was hard to see something shape and control the life of someone you loved and not become slightly resentful over time.

Putting his hands back in his pockets, he tried to get rid of the chill running down his back before Elsa noticed. His eyes darted to her and noticed with a heavy heart that she was still in the same position. Curled up beneath the blankets, her face turned slightly away from him, facing the darkness outside.

While some others could say she was simply lost in thought, he could see the tension in her expression. Her brows were furrowed just enough to show it. And either she was thinking deeply about something, or making a strenuous effort to control her powers. He had always had trouble discerning the two.

He straightened up in the chair, folding his arms over his chest in a vain attempt to stay warm. Though the movement caught Elsa’s attention and she slowly turned to look at him. She pressed her lips together as her eyes flickered towards the window for a split second.

"You can close it," she finally murmured.

"Huh?" he said, pretending he hadn’t been thinking about it for the last hour.

"The window." Her voice was soft, barely there, and she kept avoiding his eyes. "You can close it if you're cold."

The awkwardness of the moment made him miss the days Elsa would not only look at him, but also make playful remarks about him not tolerating the smallest gust of wind. On occasions, he’d even suck it up just to prove to her it didn’t bother him. It had always been a stupid thing between them, and he wondered how long it'd take for things to be like that again. The most pessimistic part of him told him nothing would truly go back to the way things were before the illness—or before she found her biological family, and her life came crashing down around her. 

"I'm not c—" He stopped. Then glanced between her and the open window hesitating, there was no reason to lie after all. Instead, he said, "It isn't necessary."

She didn’t argue like he’d have hoped. She simply looked away, which was a lot worse.

"A nurse will come and close it eventually," she muttered. "They always do."

He exhaled quietly, stepping towards the window and sliding it shut. The latch clicked into place, but the cold didn’t leave. He rubbed his arms, pretending he was shaking off the lingering chill.

"Thanks," he said, moving back to her bedside. "I know you enjoy the cold breeze, but it's getting colder and colder every day. Autumn is going by faster than I imagined."

Elsa knitted her brows, her eyes fixing on her hands as she tried to make sense of what he’d said. "September’s just begun."

Kristoff frowned and before he could stop himself he said, "It's October."

He saw it then, the moment she narrowed her eyes and her fingers tensed against the sheets. It was subtle, but it was there. A moment of realization settling in, a quiet kind of shock that she didn’t voice.

He cursed his own stupidity for not being more careful, for not realising she was still adapting to everything that had happened. He wanted to snap at the doctors for not taking the time to explain things to her. Though there was no reason to fight over choices that had already been made.

"You were in a coma for over two weeks," he explained.

Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his knees. His eyes fixed on the floor while his mind wandered back to those long nights. He’d been too worried to fall asleep, and when sleep did come, he always woke up agitated. Afraid his mother would call to tell him she was gone.

He tried to keep his tone gentle, but deep down knew it wouldn’t make a difference. "And another week and a half in the ICU after you woke up."

She didn’t say anything at first. Just stared down at her hands, her expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know it must be difficult to—"

"There isn't anything we can do about it," she cut in, her voice surprisingly soft and understanding.

It wasn’t the first time Elsa had lost time, he guessed. Who knew how many weeks had gone by in her life, in her childhood, without her realising it. The thought did nothing to appease the heartache. "No, I guess not."

Silence stretched between them, heavily. Like there was so much more they wanted to say to one another and they didn’t know how. Kristoff shifted his weight in the small chair. He glanced at her thin hand which gripped the sheet as an anchor. She had always been slender, but he hadn't seen her this way ever since she moved in with his parents.

A memory came to him then. They’d been together in her bedroom. Elsa sitting in bed, her frail body too weak for her to do much else. It was the first week after she had reentered his life, and he had been too ecstatic to wait for her to feel better to spend time with her.

He remembered the way he had talked, fast and hopeful, filling the silences she didn’t know how to break. She had nodded along, barely speaking, only asking for one thing…

"Remember when you first came to live with Mum and Dad?" he asked.

Her fingers twitched slightly, but she turned her head in his direction. At least he had sparked her curiosity. He took that tiny movement as a small gift. She didn’t speak, but he thought he saw the faintest trace of a question there.

"I used to spend my days in your room," he said. "You’d ask me to open your window despite the cold winter air, and I always did. It used to drive mum crazy. She was afraid we’d get sick or something." He smiled faintly at the memory. "She got tired of nagging me eventually and bought me this thick woollen sweater instead… I should have brought one of those today."

Elsa’s brow furrowed. "I don’t remember that."

A sad smile drew on his face. Of course, she didn’t. There had been too much to take in back then. An open window and a new sweater had probably been the least of her concerns.

"I don't blame you," he said. "There were all these new things for you to get used to."

"Like how to open a window?"

He chuckled. It was a joke made out of frustration, he knew, but at least it was something other than a tired sigh or tense silence. "It was the first week or so. You were still bedridden back then, you couldn’t open the window on your own."

"Those days are all blurry," she admitted. Her brows furrowed, as if she was still trying to remember.

His smile faded slightly. "Every evening Mum would come home with bags full of things for you—clothes, stuffed animals, things for your room. She must have felt guilty at some point, so she started bringing me gifts as well." He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "That woman’s got a heart of gold."

When he looked at her again, her gaze held an ache that hadn’t been there a moment before. She wasn’t even looking at him anymore. Her eyes had drifted back to her hands, or maybe beyond them, towards something only she could see. Something was occupying his sister’s mind, but he knew it had nothing to do with their conversation.

“Els?” He called when the silence stretched longer than he expected. 

“Is mum okay?" she asked suddenly, catching him off guard.

Kristoff froze, his heart stopping for a split second. "What?"

"Gerda." Her voice was firmer as she met his eyes. "Is she okay?"

Kristoff felt his stomach tighten. "Why do you ask?"

"Is she?"

He could lie. He should lie. But Elsa’s gaze was on him now, sharp and searching, desperate in a way that made his throat feel tight.

"No," he said finally, regretting it as soon as he noticed the pain in her eyes. “I mean, she’s tired— But she’s okay, yes.”

"Kristoff." Her voice didn’t waver, but there was something fragile about it. "I’m still trying to make sense of everything that happened, so please, I need you to be honest with me. Is she okay?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He was afraid of saying too much. He wasn’t even sure she was asking about their mother getting hurt. So he settled for something honest in between.

“It’s been a long month. We were all worried about you. I guess now that you’re back, it’s catching up with her. But you don’t need to worry.”

Elsa looked unconvinced, but she didn’t push. Her eyes drifted back to the window.

Kristoff felt bad for her—guilty, too—for being part of the tangled web of lies surrounding his sister. A web he hadn’t spun, but hadn’t fought hard enough to escape either.

“They wouldn’t let us into the ICU. It was either Mum or Marshall. Mum didn’t want to leave you alone during the day. She couldn’t, really… She didn’t want to be anywhere else.” He hoped what he was offering helped ease her mind, at least until he could talk to their mother. Gerda needed to make up her mind and come clean to Elsa. 

“She’s tired, Elsa. But she’s so happy you’re awake. That you’re getting better,” he said with a small smile.

The words didn’t seem to help much, but before he could say anything else, the door opened widely letting one of the nurses in.

"Time for a quick check-up," she announced. She rubbed her arms and glanced at the now closed window. "Good heavens, it’s freezing in here."

Kristoff stood up and introduced himself, not having met the old lady before. “I’m Kristoff. Elsa’s brother.” He cast a brief look at the window as well and explained, "I opened the window earlier; we enjoy the fresh air.”

The woman shook his hand but didn’t say anything, only nodded. Kristoff then stepped aside to let her work.

Noticing his sister sinking further into herself, however, he decided to keep a close eye, just in case he was needed. In their last meeting, Nielsen had explained that not every nurse in the ward was aware of Elsa’s condition. Only a couple from the ICU had been brought in. Those he trusted enough to handle things when the subject of ice came up. Outside their presence, it was safer to keep everything under wraps.

Elsa’s powers were still being monitored, controlled as best as possible with the help of anxiolytics. They dulled them, just enough to keep things stable. But not enough to stop them entirely. Or so it seemed. The chilling air in the room said otherwise and he made a mental note to discuss it with his mother as well.

The nurse picked up the clipboard from the foot of the bed and began asking a series of questions. Most of them sounded routine, borderline unnecessary, but he figured they were meant to ensure Elsa was still responsive. Her mental state had been one of Nielsen’s main concerns, but since leaving the ICU, she seemed more alert with each day. At least in terms of memory and awareness.

Kristoff’s curiosity in the check-up picked up when he heard the nurse ask about her feeling any pain.

"The usual," Elsa whispered, still not looking at the woman.

"How about nausea?"

A small nod.

The nurse made a note on a separate notebook and left the clipboard in its place.

"You still feel nauseous?" Kristoff interrupted, unable to hide his concern.

"It’s the medicine," the nurse said matter-of-factly.

She then moved to adjust the IV, injecting some more medication in the bag. Kristoff grimaced knowing it would only make Elsa feel worse in the next few hours, but he guessed it was necessary. Until the day she was discharged, there was nothing to do about it.

Kristoff watched his sister carefully. She wasn’t looking at either of them, her gaze focused on the sheets she kept gripping tightly. There was something in her resignation that didn't sit well with him. No matter the reason she had been hospitalized before, she had always put up a fight. Even in the smallest things, she never complied, not entirely. Now, she seemed resigned to accept whatever came her way, and not in a calm, understanding way, but in the kind that suggested it no longer mattered.

The fire was out.

And for the first time since she had fallen ill, his fears shifted. It wasn’t her physical health that worried him now, but her mind. Her spirit. His concerns were now fixed on whether his sister still had any strength left in her.

---

Kristoff pulled his jacket tighter around himself as he stepped out of the clinic. The cold night air bit at his skin and the soft, cold drizzle fell steadily, explaining why the streets were so empty on a Saturday night.

It was almost midnight by the time he left his sister’s room. He’d called Marshall earlier that day, asking him to show up around eleven instead of eight. He’d wanted a bit more time with Elsa, just the two of them. It hadn’t made much of a difference, but at least he had got the chance to be with her and hopefully let her know how much he missed her. He regretted not being more open with his feelings sometimes, hopefully she noticed how much he truly cared.

Despite his regrets, he had at least been with her for more than an hour. And that counted for something. The more he thought about his sister and everything she was going through, the more he missed the days when she used to let her walls down around him more easily. 

He guessed that, in a quiet, altered way, she still tried. Her voice lingered in his mind, soft with concern. He couldn’t shake the look in her eyes when she’d asked about Gerda. It had unsettled him more than he cared to admit, knowing he couldn’t say what had really happened and how their mother was truly feeling.

He hated that she doubted herself. But he couldn’t ignore the truth either. The burn on Gerda’s arm was real, and it had to be acknowledged with care. Elsa wouldn’t see what they saw: An accident, an unconscious reflex. Instead she’d believe she couldn’t be trusted.

His thoughts weighed on him as he turned a familiar corner, his feet carrying him past a building with a dimly lit entrance. He paused, eyes drawn to the worn steps he had climbed so many times as a kid.

The orphanage stood tall, weathered but intact despite the years gone by. His first home. Or at least, the first home he could remember. He couldn’t say life had been hard in that place, but it hadn't been warm either. Not in the way life with Kai and Gerda was. The few good memories he had were tied to Elsa and his parents, more than the institution itself.

It was strange to realise how many years had gone by, and how little things had really changed. He was still afraid of losing those he had got to call his family. He was still chasing after Elsa in a way. He was still filled with child-like wonder whenever she used her powers and still quietly resentful of those same powers keeping them apart. Things were so different, yet he and his sister were still frozen in time, haunted by the shadows they never learned to leave behind.

Sometimes he wondered what Elsa thought of that place. What her memories of that time were. He had never asked. They’d talked about it here and there, but the conversations never lasted more than a minute or two. A shared memory. A passing question. Something small to acknowledge their shared past. He suspected they both avoided it on purpose.

He didn’t really understand why, of all times, those thoughts were surfacing now. But he pushed them aside and kept going. It was late, and he suspected his parents were already asleep—but he couldn’t return to his place without speaking to them first. Shaking his head, he continued down the road to their house.

---

Guess what’s back. Back again. Søsken’s back. Tell a friend.

It’s been so long! I’m sorry for taking more than I expected to come back to this story. But the Søsken prequel “Kjølig Vennskap” kept me truly entertained the last couple of months.

If you haven’t read it yet, I suggest you jump straight to it after this chapter. It doesn’t change Søsken’s story in the slightless, but it gives you more background on Elsa and Marshall’s friendship. It also let us see more about Elsa’s life in the mountain and how she adapted to life on her own. If you do read it, let me know what you think of it!

Anyway, about this chapter. I was originally planning to include Kristoff’s conversation with his parents in this chapter as well, but then I realised the chapter was already 6k+ words and I thought it was best to divide it in two. So that means I’ll be posting chapter 57 soon, hopefully.

Also, some of you were a bit confused as to how we jumped from Elsa being confused inside the ICU one chapter and in a common ward the next. I purposely made the time jump rather fast to explain it later on in this chapter. I hope it’s a bit more clear now! I’m not really good at showing time going by as you may have noticed.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It’s a quiet one, more like a transition than anything else. Let me know what you think.

I’m sorry I haven’t answered your comments yet, but trust me when I say I’ve enjoyed reading each and every one. Reading your opinions really makes my day.Enjoy and I hope to read you all soon!

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This time, it felt different. Her body had begun to relax somewhat, but every so often, her fingers tensed against his, her brows twitched and her breath hitched. When she opened her eyes, frustrated with herself, she didn’t pull away or ask him to leave. But they didn’t have the strength to say much else. He stayed by her side, watching her face twitch in pain every so often.

He wished he could take it all away. The pain. The heartache. Even the scars he was still pretending not to see. He wondered if she would ever confide in him about her past. It felt unlikely, given how much it clearly hurt her. Until then, he supposed it was best to keep pretending he only knew what she let him see.

When her breathing finally evened out, and he was certain she’d drifted off to sleep, Marshall drew in a careful breath. Staring at her face one last time, he slowly pulled his hand free and moved soundlessly toward the door, closing it gently behind him with a soft click.

The hallway was mostly dark and empty, and for that he was thankful. Pressing his back against the cool wall outside Elsa’s room, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes, taking a moment to get himself together. He needed just one minute to regain his footing. But the familiar fire was already rising in his chest. That explosive, volatile part of himself that showed up when things felt out of his control. He was furious. At the people who had hurt her in her past. At himself for not doing more; for not helping her sooner. At Nielsen. At her family. At the whole damn situation.

He hated this part of himself, the one that threatened to take over without warning.

He brought a hand to his face, palm pressed against his mouth as if he could muffle the fury and violence that threatened to burst out. He stood still until the pounding in his chest dulled to something bearable.

The sound of footsteps around the corner pulled him back to reality and he straightened up immediately. Pushing himself off the wall, he pretended he had things under control.

“Marshall?” A familiar voice called his name. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the loud voice hadn’t woken Elsa. The last thing he needed was for her to come to her senses while she was still alone.

He turned and saw Ingrid approaching, a clipboard tucked under one arm, one hand stuffed in her pocket.

“Well, I didn’t expect to find you here.” Her tone was still tinged with mischief, but there was a hesitation beneath it, like she wanted to be taken seriously this time. “You weren’t here when I made my round in the evening. Thought you might have taken Saturday night off.”

He didn’t reply. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation, especially not one that implied he should be anywhere else. Even his mother had tried to convince him to take the night off—gently, almost apologetically, as if she knew he’d refuse. Whatever Ingrid had to say didn’t worry him in the least.

Ingrid stepped closer, her brow furrowing slightly as she got a better look at his face. Her tone softened. “Are you alright?”

Marshall clenched his jaw and looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Ingrid replied without missing a beat. “You still lie like an eighteen-year-old.”

“Ingrid.” His voice was tight, a clear warning not to push past his limits.

She studied him for a moment, then let the teasing tone slip away. “I wasn’t trying to poke the bear,” she said quietly. “It’s just— I don’t like seeing you like this. Your girl will pull through; she’ll be okay.

“I’m not here for small talk,” he muttered.

“I know.” She glanced over her shoulder towards the nurse station. “I’ll be around if you need anything.”

When he didn’t reply, she gave him one last look and walked away.

Marshall waited till she was gone to lean back against the wall and let his head fall back with a dull thump. He stood there, breathing through the simmering rage, counting backward from ten. Again and again.

The plan was to go back into Elsa’s room once he had calmed down. He was more useful by her side than playing his paranoid game, but the chance was perfect. Ingrid had practically invited him to find her after all.

He cast one last glance at Elsa’s door and silently begged for her to stay asleep, then made his way to the nurse station.

Ingrid sat alone at the small desk, cluttered with papers and an open patient chart. She seemed lost in thought, her pen tapping lightly against a sheet she’d been writing on earlier. It took her a moment to notice him, and when she did, she turned his way with a soft smile—like she’d been waiting for him.

“Something wrong?” she asked, casually, though he caught the flicker of worry behind her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Marshall asked, voice low in case another nurse showed up.

She blinked, then turned back to her chart. “Same thing I’ve always done in clinics and hospitals. I work here.”

“No,” he snapped, taking a step forward. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

She sighed and set the pen down. “I think you’re misinterpreting something.”

“You weren’t assigned to her,” he pressed. “Nielsen gave me a list. Your name wasn’t on it.”

“I’m filling in,” she replied, flatly. “One of the night nurses couldn’t make it. They asked me to cover.”

“Who?” he pressed.

She hesitated, just for a breath, but he saw it. “Ingrid. Who are you covering for?”

“Does it matter?” she deflected. “You’re acting like I’m some stranger. I work here, Marsh.”

“What nurse?” he demanded again. “Give me a name.”

Ingrid flipped through the folder, deliberately avoiding his eyes. “I’ve got things to do. Either tell me what you need, or let me work.”

“Stop dodging the question,” he said, his voice rising with frustration. “Either tell me who you’re filling in for or why you’re really here.”

With a resigned breath, Ingrid closed the folder. “The official line is that Frida called in sick.”

He narrowed his eyes. “And the unofficial?”

She hesitated for a moment. “She requested to be taken off your girl’s case,” she said more quietly. “She’s asked multiple times. Each one was denied.”

Ingrid offered a small, careful smile, meant to say more than she was actually saying. “I’m not here to cause harm, Marshall.”

Not knowing what to think anymore, Marshall took a step back. He didn’t trust himself to keep the conversation going without snapping. “I need to talk to Nielsen,” he muttered, already turning towards the door.

“You’re letting it control you again,” Ingrid said behind him before he could leave.

Marshall froze mid-step. Then, slowly, he turned to face her. “That’s low.”

“And doubting me isn’t?” she said, folding her arms. “Look at yourself. You’re a mess, dear.”

“I’m not—” He stopped himself, jaw clenched. He shook his head, as if trying to push the rising fire back down. “You don’t get to throw that in my face.”

“I’ve seen you throw your life away before. Don’t let your temper ruin what you have now.”

The words struck deep. He looked at her for a long, heavy moment, as shame crawled up and settled beside the anger. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked off.

Back in Elsa’s room, Marshall let out a relieved sigh when he saw she hadn’t stirred. She was still curled slightly to the side, her face more peaceful than it had been all night. He moved closer, careful not to wake her, and sat back down in the chair. Watching her breathe calmed something inside him, helping him bury the last of the fury that had nearly consumed him. He could feel his body aching, stiff from tension and exhaustion.

Outside, the first light of morning spilled through the blinds, casting pale lines across the room. 

---

The hallway outside Elsa’s room was quiet when Anna arrived. She walked softly, careful not to disturb the other patients. She hadn’t seen many people in this part of the ward over the past few days. She supposed Elsa had been deliberately placed in the farthest room—a logical precaution, considering her powers could drop the temperature in an instant.

She hadn’t planned to come so early. Kristoff had shown up at her parents’ house, waking her and Idunn. For a moment, she’d felt her world collapse. But before she could imagine the worst, he explained something about a meeting. It seemed to be important enough that both her in-laws were needed, and that Gerda wouldn’t be able to watch over Elsa that morning. He hadn’t offered many details, but he didn’t have to. It was enough to know that someone had to be there, and Marshall might need rest, breakfast, or simply a break from sitting at her sister’s bedside all night.

Anna gently pushed open the door and peeked inside, hoping not to wake Elsa if she’d finally managed some sleep. She knew how rare it was for her to rest more than a few hours at a time.

The room was still dim, lit only by the soft gray light filtering through the window. Elsa lay curled under the blanket, her face pale, dark circles beneath her eyes, but peaceful, for once. Marshall sat beside her, hunched forward in the chair, his forearm resting on the edge of the mattress. His head was lowered, turned away from the door, resting on his arm. His fingers were tracing lazy, almost thoughtless strokes across the back of Elsa’s hand.

Anna paused at the door, surprised to catch him unaware of his surroundings for once. Part of her wanted to leave and give him a little more time, but knew she’d regret not taking advantage of the rare tender scene unfolding in front of her.

She stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind her. Mischief drew on her face before she spoke. “Should I come back later, or…?”

Marshall flinched, straightening abruptly. A flush crept up his neck as he pulled his hand back in one swift motion and turned to look at her.

“Sorry,” Anna said, offering a fake, apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you two.”

He ran a hand through his hair in a half-useless attempt to smooth it and look more presentable. “She’s asleep.”

“I can see that,” Anna replied, her smile widening. “It still feels like I walked into a private moment.”

Marshall exhaled softly and rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to Elsa. He seemed slightly annoyed, trying to keep it cool, but Anna noticed the faint shade of pink creeping up his neck again.

She watched him quietly, her teasing softening. The lines around his eyes were deeper this morning, the bags darker.

“Long night?” she asked as she walked further into the room, careful not to wake her sister.

He gave a vague hum in response, and she didn’t push for more. Part of her wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Anna reached the bed and gently touched Elsa’s arm with the back of her hand. The light contact made Elsa’s brow twitch, so she withdrew it carefully.

Lowering her voice, she offered, “I can stay if you need. Gerda and Kai are at some meeting. I figured you might want to eat something. Or maybe go home and rest.”

Marshall didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor as he shook his head. “It’s okay. I don’t mind waiting for Gerda.”

Anna gave a soft sigh and moved to sit on the sofa. They could both stay and keep Elsa company, then. She glanced at Marshall, noting how his gaze kept drifting back to her sister, despite his attempts not to make it obvious.

She folded her arms and murmured, half under her breath, “You’re making it really hard for people to believe there’s nothing going on between you two.”

Marshall looked up, unimpressed. “Are you always this talkative when you wake up? I feel sorry for Kristoff.”

Anna grinned, knowing he was purposely avoiding the topic. “Elsa gets a free pass after what she’s been through—I won’t start teasing her now… But I don’t see why you’re still pretending. She came home wearing your clothes the night she got sick, after all.”

She wasn’t necessarily trying to fluster him. Maybe just giving him something else to think about that would ease the tension in his shoulders. When Marshall suddenly stood up, however, Anna froze, wondering if she’d pushed too far.

He just walked to the door. Before opening it, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “I’m going to grab a coffee. You want one?”

Relieved he hadn’t taken things the wrong way, she nodded. “Yes.” She let out a breath. “Thank you. Milky and with sugar, please.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, then he finally said, “Black with no sugar, it is.”

She caught the glint in his eye as he left the room and understood she’d just have to drink his bitter bitter revenge.

---

The tension in Landvik’s office was thick enough to cut with a scalpel. The grey morning light filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished floor. A thin layer of fog clung to the glass, barely obscuring the ward buildings across the courtyard—one of which held Elsa.

Kai sat rigidly in the chair closest to the door, arms crossed over his chest. The lines on his face seemed deeper today, and he hadn’t said a word since entering the room. Beside him, Gerda sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap. Her expression was composed, but her restless eyes betrayed her unease.

At the center of the room, in the seat nearest the desk, sat Agdar. His jaw was clenched, both arms braced on the armrests, trying to maintain composure as he listened to Haugen.

“Until we receive another form of payment,” he said carefully, “I’m afraid we’ll have to place her care on temporary hold beyond the end of the week.”

“You’re telling me the clinic didn’t receive the payment?” Agdar asked.

“That’s correct,” Haugen said, laying a balance sheet on the desk. “The transfer authorization was revoked. I sent my secretary to follow up in person—I know you’re a busy man after all. The bank refused to process the funds.”

“There must be some mistake,” Agdar muttered, though the flicker of doubt in his voice betrayed the certainty he would have liked to show.

“There’s no mistake,” Haugen replied smoothly, glancing toward the window with faint satisfaction. “The funds came from your company’s account, didn’t they? If your board intervened—”

“They weren’t supposed to,” Agdar snapped. “This was a personal decision. One I have full authority to make.”

“A personal decision made with company funds?” Haugen raised an eyebrow. “I imagine the board might see that differently. Not that I’m here to tell you how to run your business, of course.”

Kai shifted in his seat, interrupting their conversation, “Elsa’s care is still continuing, isn’t it? I mean, this is just a misunderstanding.”

“Rest assured,” Landvik cut in quickly, “Miss Bjorgman is receiving appropriate treatment. Everything’s covered under the previous authorization we simply—”

“But unless another payment is arranged soon,” Haugen said plainly, “we won’t be able to continue under those terms. Of course, her recovery is our top priority. It’s just a matter of paperwork and we’ll have another solution ready.”

“You mean she’ll be discharged,” Gerda said quietly, fingers tightening around the edge of her coat, trying to steady her hands. “And transferred to a public hospital, right?”

Silence fell. But Haugen’s smile said everything.

“We would never deny her treatment, Mrs. Bjorgman,” he said smugly. “We’ll simply arrange another healthcare plan for her.”

Agdar slid the balance sheet back across the desk, cutting in before the conversation went further. “There won’t be a need for that. The board doesn’t speak for me. It's nothing but a misunderstanding.”

Haugen smiled. “I believe they do.”

“Excuse me?”

“As I understand it, a board exists to protect the company’s—and the investors’—best interests. Is that not correct?”

Agdar narrowed his eyes. “As you yourself said, you're not in a position to tell me how to run my company. The money I am lending this family is mine. The payment will go through.  Everything will be sorted out by Tuesday.

“I care about transparency,” Haugen replied, still calm. “I wouldn’t want the clinic’s reputation compromised by a mismanaged transaction.”

“I believe Mr. Arendelle knows what he’s doing,” Kai growled. His tone was a warning. Low, firm, and unmistakable.

Haugen didn’t flinch. “I’m only laying out the facts. If we’re to continue housing her here—now at our expense—it’s only natural to ensure everything is in order.”

“There will be a meeting tomorrow morning,” Agdar said. “Everything will be resolved by Tuesday.”

“Tuesday is perfect,” Landvik agreed quickly with a tight smile. "I'll make sure her treatment continues as agreed."

Haugen leaned back, the faintest hint of mock admiration in his voice. “Well, now that's how you do business. You're clearly a man with a generous heart, Mr. Arendelle. I haven’t heard of many businessmen covering the full medical costs of a young woman just like that. May I ask, what does she represent to you?”

“She represents nothing,” Gerda said sharply. “She’s our daughter. And Agdar is an old friend of the family.”

Haugen’s smile widened. “I never suggested otherwise. I’m only curious. ArenCo has built a reputation in the technological and research field, and Ms. Bjorgman… Well, she is a medical mystery.”

He said it flatly, without judgment, but the words landed wrong. They coiled in the room, making Agdar feel ill with the weight of what was being implied. Before he could respond, Kai stood up and formally requested the meeting come to a close—as if it were obvious everything had been said.

---

The hallway outside the Landvik’s office felt cold and hostile when they stepped out. It wasn’t the kind of stillness Gerda was used to inside hospitals. It felt different. Unkind.

She walked with calm, measured steps, pretending the conversation inside hadn’t shaken her. Her hands stayed tucked deep in her coat pockets, hiding the faint tremor she didn’t want Kai to notice. Her fingers closed around a soft, familiar keychain nestled there. The yarn had worn smooth over the years, the little braid frayed at the ends where it had started to unravel. Strands of blue and pale gray twisted unevenly, one side tighter than the other, the knot at the end clumsy and a little bulky.

It wasn’t perfect. But it had been the first gift Elsa had ever given her.

Gerda had found it one morning, left on the edge of the kitchen counter, half-hidden beneath her purse as if Elsa hadn’t been sure she’d want it. Now, eight years later, Gerda found herself clutching it tightly, thumb tracing the uneven ridges of the braid whenever she was anxious.

“Gerda,” Agdar called her name, pulling her back to the present. “I’ll fix this. By Tuesday. You don’t need to worry.” His voice was low and careful as he tried to reassure her he had things under control.

She nodded once. She couldn’t say she trusted his word, but she had no other option. They were in too deep, and Elsa wasn’t ready to go home. At least not yet. She needed one more week. Or two. She made a mental note to talk to Nielsen later, explain the mess they were in, and see if there wasn’t a way she could bring her daughter home and care for her herself.

“I need to see Elsa,” she said after a moment, not really wanting to discuss anything that had to do with Agdar or his business. All she needed was for him to pay Haugen and buy them some time.

Kai took a step closer. “Gerda, are you—?”

“I’m okay, Honey.” She smiled, reassuringly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Elsa must be awake by now.”

Leaving her husband to deal with Agdar. Gerda made her way to Elsa's room.

She hadn’t slept well the night before. Kristoff’s words kept echoing in her mind, reminding her she might have been doing more harm than good by hiding things. It wasn't that she hadn't really thought about the consequences of hiding the truth from her daughter before; she simply hadn’t expected Elsa to carry so much guilt without even knowing what had happened. It hurt to realize her daughter’s first instinct was always to blame herself.

She needed to tell her. Even if it shattered what little peace Elsa had managed to find after the confusion wore off. Even if it made her feel like she was back at square one. Dragging this out wouldn’t protect her anymore. Not if she was already tormenting herself with the little pieces of information she had gathered and didn’t fully comprehend.

There were too many half-truths hanging over Elsa’s head. They were building up, pressing down and threatening to break the trust they had once built between the two. If Gerda wanted to help her heal, she knew she had to start by sharing more. No matter how much it hurt, it was best to take one step at a time and let her into this new reality carefully.

Perhaps letting her know only a reduced, trusted, group of people knew about her would help her understand she was under good care—even if Gerda wasn’t so sure about that.

They had already spoken about rehabilitation, and that was one less thing on the list. Elsa still didn’t understand how long recovery might really take, but at least she’d accepted she needed to take things slow. Gerda had also explained the necessity of trusting Nielsen and the nurses, even if Elsa’s discomfort around the clinic staff hadn’t eased. Now came the hardest part: the weeks Elsa had spent unconscious, the arrangements made and the risks taken.

She couldn’t bring herself to tell Elsa the conditions they were under, though she knew she couldn’t keep everything from her anymore. Maybe if Elsa understood that only a small, trusted group knew about her condition, she’d feel a little safer. Even if Gerda wasn’t entirely sure of that herself.

Just thinking about the conversation made her stomach twist. No matter where she started, it felt like trying to climb the North Mountain in a snowstorm. But she had to start somewhere, and the accident was the one thing that couldn’t wait. She was tired of keeping her distance just to avoid Elsa seeing the injury. At least her hand was no longer wrapped. The burn was healing now, leaving behind only a rather small scar.

Peeking into Elsa’s room, Gerda let out a quiet breath, relief softening her features. Both Anna and Marshall were there, still keeping her daughter company.

Elsa sat upright against a pile of pillows, eyes fixed on the folded blanket draped across her lap. She hadn’t spoken much since waking, barely a few words when necessary. Gerda had once thought it was because of Nielsen’s or the physiatrist’s presence. Now that she got to see her in her friends’ presence, she realised the silence seemed to remain no matter who came by. Elsa was far away, locked in herself; her quiet reminding Gerda too much of the little girl she’d once taken home.

At least now, she didn’t have to be alone in that silence. Anna and Marshall filled the space with something warmer—something familiar. And hopefully, something safe.

Marshall sat beside her, angled slightly towards Elsa, forearms resting on his knees. Anna stood by the bedside table, adjusting a tray and setting a fresh glass of water within reach. She spoke softly, animatedly, about something she’d read once about water. The sound of her voice, light and easy, brought a small, unexpected smile to Gerda’s lips.

Let Anna fill the silence with mundane chatter, hoping the normalcy of it might bring her sister some comfort.

At the sound of Gerda’s quiet laugh, all three looked up. Anna being the first to greet her. “Gerda,” she said, surprised but gentle. “We didn’t see you there.”

Marshall stood, offering her a short nod. He was always polite, always respectful—but there was still hesitation in his manner. With Kai, there was tension. With her, there was uncertainty. Some days he felt comfortable enough to talk and confide in her even. Other days, he didn’t seem to know how to behave.

Gerda wished that would change. She wished he didn’t feel the need to walk on eggshells around the family—especially not if he was becoming an important part of Elsa’s life.

“Thank you both for keeping Elsa company,” Gerda said softly, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Anna glanced at Elsa, then back at Gerda. “Do you want us to...?” she asked, gesturing to herself, then Marshall and the door.

Gerda gave a small nod. “If you don’t mind. I’d like to spend the rest of the morning with her.”

Elsa didn’t look up, but Gerda saw her stiffen. She couldn’t tell if it was anticipation or dread. Not knowing hurt more than she wanted to admit. But after keeping her distance all week, afraid Elsa would notice her injury, she couldn’t expect things to feel easy now.

Elsa's posture stiffened, even though she didn’t look up. Gerda couldn’t tell if it was anticipation or dread. And not knowing hurt more than she wanted to admit. But after keeping her distance for so many days, afraid Elsa would notice her injury, she couldn’t expect things to feel easy now.

Anna glanced at Marshall, who nodded once and stepped towards the door. Before leaving, he looked at Elsa and promised her to return in the evening.

Gerda offered him a grateful smile. She didn’t know how or when their friendship had begun, but she was thankful for it.

She waited until the door clicked shut behind them before crossing the room. Her legs felt weak beneath her. She paused at the foot of the bed, one hand resting on it. She searched Elsa’s eyes, but Elsa turned her attention to the window, her eyes glassy and jaw clenched tight.

Gerda didn’t rush her. She gave her a moment, just in case she wanted to speak first. But Elsa stayed silent. 

“I hope I didn’t interrupt,” Gerda said gently, a small smile tugging at her lip. “Anna seemed... entertained enough.”

Elsa gave the faintest shake of her head.

Gerda watched her for a moment longer, then sat down on the edge of the bed. The weight of everything Gerda needed to say pressed on her chest suddenly, and she wasn’t sure how to start the conversation.

“Will the physician come today?” Elsa asked.

“Physiatrist,” corrected Gerda, gently. With a smile, she placed her hand gently on Elsa’s knee. “Not today, just you and me this morning. No one else.”

Elsa didn’t respond. Her eyes looked at Gerda briefly before they drifted to her hand. Slowly, her brow furrowed.

Gerda followed her eyes and felt the air shift between them. Her hand twitched slightly, but she didn’t move to hide the scar that peeked out from beneath her sleeve.

“Did I—” Elsa’s voice caught. “Did I do that to you?”

Gerda didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her daughter’s face.

Elsa flinched.

“Nothing serious happened to me, dear,” Gerda whispered. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Elsa shook her head, pulling slightly away. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.”

“I didn’t—”

“I know, Elsa.” Gerda’s voice didn’t waver. “I’d never blame you.”

Gerda touched her cheek then, soft and steady. Elsa trembled, but didn’t pull away. Her eyes brimming with tears.

“I don’t want to do it again,” she said, voice hollow as she dropped her gaze. “I don’t want to keep hurting you. Or anyone.”

Gerda was tired of seeing her like this—hurting, blaming herself for things beyond her control. A wave of helplessness surged through her, and she had to blink her own tears away.

“You won’t hurt me.”

“I did.”

Gerda’s brow furrowed. “Elsa—”

“I don’t remember how,” Elsa whispered. “But it doesn’t matter. I still did it. It’s a matter of time until I lose control and I hurt you a third time.”

“You weren’t well,” Gerda said. “You didn’t know what was happening—”

“But I did.” Tears threatened to fall again, as her voice broke but she blinked them back furiously. “I always end up hurting the people I care about.”

Gerda let her hand fall, heart pounding. She wanted to argue. To tell her she was wrong. But she could see the cracks. She was barely holding together.

“Sweetheart—” she began again.

“I don’t know how to fix it.” Elsa’s fingers clenched the blanket tighter. “I want to. I want to so badly. But I don’t know how to make it stop. I don’t know how to be normal.”

Gerda couldn’t hold back any longer. She wrapped her arms around Elsa, holding her tightly—urgently—as though trying to keep her from slipping over the edge.

Elsa resisted. Her hands pushed once, but they lacked strength. Then she gave in. Hesitantly, she sank into her mother’s arms.

Gerda tightened her embrace. She rocked her gently, like she used to when Elsa was younger.

Elsa’s trembling fingers clutched at her sweater. Her breath hitched. And then she broke, quietly letting Gerda try to fix it for her.

---

Elsa’s breathing slowed, just barely, as she curled against her mother’s shoulder. The warmth of Gerda’s embrace should have soothed her. It should have made things easier.

But something gnawed at her.

That pressure.

The pressure that had lived inside her for days now. It was silent and constant, like a storm that wouldn’t break. The more she allowed herself to feel, the more suffocating it became.

Elsa stiffened, the realisation hitting her all at once. The only reason her powers weren’t spiraling was because something wasn’t right. She had sensed they were behaving strangely, restrained in a way she couldn’t explain.

She couldn’t believe she had let herself relax around her mother when she knew her powers couldn’t be trusted.

At this realisation and without warning, she pulled back, her body trembling as she pushed herself out of the embrace.

Gerda’s hold loosened instantly, “What is it? Does anything hurt?”

Elsa couldn’t meet her eyes. She folded her hands over her stomach, hiding them. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Gerda reached for her, but Elsa recoiled, panic flashing across her face like lightning.

“No. Don’t! Please,” she begged. “I don’t think I should touch you right now.”

Gerda stayed still, wanting to respect her wishes. “Elsa, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Elsa snapped. Her breath caught and she dropped her voice immediately. “You don’t understand—” She looked down. “It’s too quiet.”

Gerda tilted her head, not following.

“The ice,” Elsa said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s pushing, but something feels different. Something’s wrong.”

Slowly, she pressed her palm against the blanket, bracing for the familiar tingle. There was nothing. She should feel relieved it wasn’t controlling her for once, but it didn’t feel right. The unnatural stillness felt wrong. It made her anxious in a way she couldn’t explain.

“It’s not me holding it back.” Her eyes met Gerda’s, wide and frightened. “I don’t know what’s happening. It’s still there, I can feel it crawling under my skin, but I don’t know when it’s going to snap.”

“Elsa—”

“I mean it,” she insisted, voice rising again. “Please, you have to understand. It’s not safe. I don’t know what it’ll do the next time I fall asleep or panic or—”

Gerda reached up slowly, her hand barely brushing her cheek to dry her tears. “Stop, sweetheart. Just breathe.”

Elsa flinched at the touch.

“You are not dangerous, dear.”

Elsa wanted so badly to believe her. She wanted to lean back in. To close her eyes and pretend none of it mattered.

Gerda’s eyes softened. “It’s under control. I need you to trust me.”

Elsa blinked. “What do you mean?”

Gerda hesitated.

And that was enough for her to understand. “It’s not me,” she whispered.

Gerda looked away for the briefest second. Then nodded. “It’s a medicine. Just a little something in your IVs. It’s helping regulate your system, enough to keep things... calm.”

Elsa didn’t speak. Her throat closed up, and for a moment, she thought she might be sick.

Just a little pinprick. There’ll be no more…

That old voice inside her whispered it like it had never left. She felt caged, like a dangerous thing too unstable to trust. But she didn’t let it show. Only her hands betrayed her, curled into fists against her gown, fingernails biting into her palms.

“I see,” she said at last.

Gerda flinched, guilt flashing across her face. Somehow, that made it worse. Like she understood how much this would hurt and still agreed to it.

The silence between them stretched long and brittle, like ice over a deep lake thin enough to crack if one of them moved too quickly.

“It’s just temporary,” Gerda said gently. “To keep you safe.”

Elsa wanted to believe her. But fear had become a reflex—etched deep into her bones. She didn’t trust her voice, didn’t trust the frantic pulse pounding beneath her skin. Her chest burned with the effort to stay contained, to keep the panic buried.

She needed to believe her. She would hold on to that one thread and see if it held.

---

I feel like I’ve been editing this chapter for over a week, phew!

Anyway, a new chapter! And I’m excited about this one. Some parts of these scenes have been written for over six months. They were waiting in a dusty folder to see the light of day. I had to adapt them a bit; some other scenes are completely new. A lot more things than I originally intended happened in this chapter. Especially towards the end. Even I was surprised by Elsa and Gerda’s conversation.

Thank you all for your reviews and comments. I hope you like this chapter and continue to enjoy this story. Let me know what you think of the chapter itself, the characters or anything else that called your attention. I love reading your thoughts.

Also, I was planning to post this chapter on Sunday, as a small gift for “friends’ day” here in my country. But since it was friends’ day I spent all Saturday night and Sunday day out… which might surprise you but doesn’t help with my writing in the least. Go figure.

I hope you accept this little belated gift and enjoy it!

Take care and read you soon!

---

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Trying to get rid of the feeling, he told himself there was no reason to turn back now. And so, carefully, trying not to make too much noise, he cracked the door open just enough to peek inside.

The fading light of day washed the hospital room in soft tones. Elsa was awake, sitting against some pillows that helped her stay upright. She still looked pale and drained, her movements painfully slow. Her skin still hadn’t regained its usual colour, and Marshall was starting to wonder when they’d see her get some of her strength back. He knew recovering from sepsis took time, especially with her body being so severely compromised, but part of him was becoming impatient to finally see her out of that damn hospital bed.

He could tell she was growing impatient too. The previous night had been another difficult one. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked about the IV attached to her arm, but this time her voice had been edged with frustration. She’d looked at the drip with a mix of disgust and unease, as if she was only reluctantly accepting it. Marshall hadn’t missed the resignation in her eyes, nor the way she’d apologised for even questioning it afterwards. As if she had no right to complain about something that was being done to her body.

Shaking off the thought, he turned his attention to the chair by the side of the bed where Anna was sitting. Her voice was cheerful as she spoke about nothing in particular — something about Kristoff, the weather, and how the hospital coffee tasted worse than usual. It was all crammed into a single sentence, making Marshall wonder how Elsa was meant to follow half of it.

He cursed under his breath and clutched the bag tighter. If it had been Gerda sitting there, he could’ve counted on her to excuse herself the moment he walked in. Anna, on the other hand… He wasn’t so sure she’d give him enough space to talk to Elsa.

Not that he minded Anna’s presence, he actually found her rambling oddly entertaining at times — more often when it wasn’t aimed at him — but she had a habit of seeing through him in ways that made him uncomfortable. Something told him she would read too much into the gift in his hand, and she wouldn’t hesitate to put him under the spotlight before Elsa had time to blink.

He was about to take a step back and leave, deciding he’d just wait until his shift started, when Anna noticed the door being ajar.

“Hey!” she said brightly, a grin spreading across her face. “No need to wait outside. Come in,” Anna insisted, as she signaled for him to step into the room.

He froze for a second, then reluctantly obeyed. Retreating now would only draw more attention to him than necessary. Maybe if he didn’t hide, then Anna wouldn’t make a big deal out of what he had brought Elsa. All of a sudden, the damn paper bag weighed more as he began to second guess himself again.

Shoulders rigid with tension, Marshall greeted them both with a tight smile. Elsa didn’t speak, but her expression shifted into the faintest smile, and for him that was enough.

“You’re early today,” Anna commented, looking at her watch.

She wasn’t wrong. He’d left his mother’s house earlier than usual, wandering through different gift shops downtown until he found what he was looking for. It hadn’t taken him as long as he’d expected, and he’d ended up at the hospital nearly an hour before his shift. 

“I guess I left home earlier than intended,” he said, trying to brush it off.

He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room for a moment, until Anna noticed he was carrying something with him.

“You can leave your stuff here,” Anna offered, gesturing to the empty side table closest to where she was sitting. “I’ll be out of your way in a second.”

Marshall nodded, but he didn’t move. Instead, he stared at the bag in his hand and then at Elsa.

He cleared his throat. “Actually…” He stepped closer to the bed, holding the bag out with a small, awkward shrug. “This is for Elsa.”

Elsa blinked at him, her brows lifting slightly as she slowly reached for it. She opened the bag and looked curiously inside. Marshall could feel Anna’s gaze moving from him to the bag, with similar interest.

“I, uh… I figured the room looked a little empty,” he said, his tone deliberately flat.

Nestled inside the crumpled paper bag was a small snowshoe plush cat, short-furred and with markings and colours much like Olaf’s. The only thing missing was the bright orange bandana Elsa always kept around the cat’s neck. It wasn’t overly cute, nor particularly soft, but it did its job.

“I know it’s not the same as having Olaf around,” Marshall said, scratching at his beard awkwardly.

He caught the glint of amusement in Anna’s eyes from the corner of his eye and dropped his hand and cleared his voice again. She had the decency not to say anything, though he could feel her biting her tongue to comment on the gift.

Elsa let out a breath, something in between surprise and a laugh. She murmured a soft thank you, and a real smile drew on her face for the first time in weeks. Her thumb ran over one of the seams, as she carefully turned it over in her hands, inspecting it.

Marshall smiled, the tension easing from his shoulders. He guessed the embarrassment was worth it if it meant distracting her from the sterile, suffocating air of the room.

“I found over ten Snowgies in the pile before I found this one,” he added, as he sat on the edge of the bed. "I was tempted to grab five and take them home with me.”

---

As soon as Anna noticed the plush toy, she smiled unconsciously mirroring her sister’s expression. The urge to make a teasing remark rose inside of her but she decided against it, holding her words back and letting them enjoy the moment.

She found it hard to believe there had been a time, only weeks before, when she’d doubted Marshall. She’d worried he might be too unstable and unpredictable to be trusted around Elsa. She’d even regretted suggesting his name in the first place. But watching him now, sitting there with his awkward little gift and that softened version of himself he seemed to reserve only for her sister, Anna knew she’d been wrong.

He didn’t push. He never asked more of Elsa than she could give. He simply came and went like clockwork. Quiet, steady and careful with her in ways he probably didn’t even realize. Somehow, he seemed to understand Elsa’s needs, helping her adjust to all the changes around her in the process.

Elsa broke the silence, bringing Anna back to the scene unfolding in front of her. She made a fleeting comment about Marshall most likely buying the other cats and only pretending just to save face in front of Anna.

The comment drew a laugh out of the three of them, and for a moment Anna pretended they were all back at the mountain. It had been too long since she’d last seen Elsa smile like that.

Sadly, it faded as soon as it came, her gaze dropped as she caressed the toy in her hands. “Do you know where Olaf is?” she finally asked.

Marshall hesitated, glancing at Anna, silently passing the question her way.

“Last I heard,” Anna said, straightening a little in her seat, “he was still with Kai and Gerda.”

Elsa nodded faintly, though her eyes seemed far away. She looked down at the plush again, as if chasing some memory she couldn’t quite catch.

Coincidentally, that afternoon, the two of them had talked briefly about what Elsa remembered from the day she’d fallen ill. She’d mentioned Olaf’s weight on her legs when she was too weak to move. She remembered his purring until someone entered the room and moved him aside. Then everything became a blur. The next thing she remembered was waking up in the hospital, panicked and disoriented. Even now, she was having trouble discerning what had been real or part of a feverish dream.

Anna had let her share what she could, giving her space. It was the first day since leaving the ICU that Elsa was making an effort to talk and piece her memories back together. So Anna clung to that small sign of progress and allowed her sister the time she needed.

“And the Snowgies?” Elsa asked. “How are they?”

“Dan’s been feeding them,” Marshall said with a faint smile. “He says they’re still uncontrollable and making things unnecessarily difficult… which is exactly the sort of thing I expect from them.”

“Dan?” she wondered.

“I haven’t been staying at the mountain lately,” Marshall explained.

Her brow furrowed slightly. “Where are you staying?”

He paused for a beat. “My mother’s. Just for a few days.”

He said it casually, like it wasn’t worth mentioning, but Anna knew better. She’d seen the cramped space he was sleeping in, as well as the apartment — too small for three adults to live comfortably. It wasn’t the kind of place you stayed too long.

Elsa’s eyes narrowed slightly in curiosity, but Marshall avoided her gaze, fidgeting with the zipper of his leather jacket.

Anna sensed the change immediately and cut in gently, easing the mood. “So,” she said playfully, “has your mother dug out the baby photos yet?”

Marshall sighed, closing his eyes in embarrassment. “She tried. Her husband encouraging her didn’t help in the least.”

Anna laughed. Lena seemed like exactly the kind of mother who’d do something like that. “I’m impressed you’ve lasted a whole month there.”

He shrugged. “I thought it was better to stay close by, just in case.”

Elsa didn’t smile nor take part in the conversation; her gaze lingered on him with a questioning look instead. “You haven’t gone back to the mountain in a month?” she asked, taken aback.

“At first, I thought it’d just be a couple of days,” he replied, not meeting her eyes. “Then the roads iced over. And when I was about to go back, your family asked me to help.”

At that Anna leaned back in the chair with a teasing smile. "Icy roads? How come I didn’t hear it in the news?" she said, eyes glinting with mischief.

Marshall narrowed his eyes. “Don’t start,” he mumbled.

“What?” she said innocently. “I haven’t been paying too much attention to the weather forecast lately.”

He huffed and deliberately ignored her, turning his attention back to Elsa instead.

Elsa blinked between the two, still trying to catch up. “I didn’t know you were staying for… this.” She gestured to her arm and the bed. “You can go back home if you need to.”

“I’ve travelled back to check a few things, but it’s not like I need to be there,” he said honestly. “I’d rather stay here.”

Anna made a soft, knowing sound under her breath, crossing her arms and looking straight at him.

Marshall groaned, making an effort not to look at her.

Choosing to put the man out of his misery, Anna turned to her sister, her voice gentler now. “I think it’s good if he stays around,” she said. “You’re more open when he’s here.”

Elsa tilted her head slightly. “Open?”

“Less distant,” Anna clarified. “You don’t have that cloudy look on your face. I mean… you still look exhausted, and your hair is a mess—”

Marshall snorted.

“—but you’re listening. You’re talking back more.”

Elsa gave a small, quiet shrug. “I guess the two of you being here helps. I get tired of being inside my head all the time.”

Anna’s expression softened, watching how her sister tried to sit straighter on the bed with some effort and she tried to fix a strand of hair discreetly. She then looked at Marshall, who had stood up to help her get herself more comfortable. He didn’t say anything, simply helped with whatever Elsa needed. Anna noticed how naturally it came to him and once again, she felt bad for having doubted him.

Feeling like she had embarrassed them enough for the evening, Anna stood up, picking her bag up from the floor and slinging it over her shoulder. “I should let you rest,” she told Elsa, then flicked a playful glance towards Marshall. “Don’t let him talk your ear off.”

“Pretty sure that’s impossible,” Elsa said with a smile.

Marshall rolled his eyes.

Anna moved closer and took Elsa’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as a silent apology for making her feel self-conscious. “See you tomorrow, alright?”

Elsa nodded with a smile and bid her goodbye.

---

The chair by the bed was empty now, but Marshall didn’t take it. Instead, he settled back down on the mattress close to her. Noticing Elsa was still preoccupied with her hair, he chuckled softly and offered to tame a rebellious strand for her.

She hesitated, her shoulders tensing for a moment until she agreed. Part of her still feared what might happen if she let people get too close. It was still uncomfortable to feel her powers moving erratically and pressuring with no strength to be released under her skin, but the humming was surprisingly quiet that day. Controlled, just like Gerda had reassured her. So she decided to trust it.

“How do you manage to—” he muttered, as he struggled to keep the hair away from her eyes.

Elsa smiled, knowing exactly why the hair wasn’t obeying. “I’ve always used my powers to style it," she admitted.

Marshall stopped frowning at her hair and raised an eyebrow in surprise. Elsa smiled at his expression, glad to finally be able to share those small things after years of hiding.

Tilting her head sideways, she let her temple rest against his hand before he could move it. She felt him freeze for a split second, then his fingers began combing through her bangs, brushing them back gently.

“I don’t understand,” she murmured, eyes closed, her voice barely above a whisper, “why you’d stay in town just for me.”

He didn’t answer right away. His hand came to rest at the nape of her neck, his thumb brushing the side of her face.

“I meant what I said the other night,” he said softly, honestly. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

For a long moment, they didn’t move. The faint sounds of the hospital outside faded into the background. With her eyes closed, Elsa thought back to a night not long ago, when she had first shown him her powers, and they had stumbled into a similar calm. Neither of them had said a word about it back then, and they didn’t acknowledge it now, either. But this time she wished the feeling would last. It had been so long since she’d last let herself be in someone’s presence without feeling that tight, unshakeable tension coursing through her body.

Marshall was the first to shift, trying to sit more comfortably at the edge of the bed without disturbing her. Instinctively, Elsa moved a little, offering him space, but the sudden motion sent a sharp pain through her back.

Marshall noticed instantly, the sharp intake of her breath not escaping him. “Are you okay?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, a steady hand resting on her thigh.

“I—” she drew a slow breath. “I don’t know,” she admitted after a pause. “I thought I was doing better than before. But—”

“Could you try to describe it?” he prompted gently.

“It’s like…” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’m not just tired. My arms and legs feel like they don’t want to listen. And when they do and I try to move, it hurts—as if I’d fallen and bruised all over.” Her voice softened, embarrassed at the clumsy description.

Marshall nodded slowly, his thumb tracing quiet, soothing circles as he listened.

Elsa shifted slightly against the pillows, careful not to move too quickly. “I can breathe better, but I still feel this strange pressure sometimes.” She let out a slow, almost frustrated sigh. “I don’t know the right words for any of this. It’s hard to describe it.”

“You don’t need the right words,” Marshall said quietly, leaning in slightly. “Heavy. Sore. Short of breath. It all makes sense.”

Elsa offered a small, grateful glance, then lowered her eyes, noticing the gift he’d brought her lying on the blanket between them. She reached for it with her left hand, not thinking too much about it, but the action caught his attention.

Marshall stopped her, extending his hand, silently asking her to show him her injured hand first. His fingers brushed near the edge of the bandage, lifting it gently so the wound could breathe for a moment.

Elsa’s gaze fell on the scar running from her palm up her arm. She felt slightly sick knowing there was another scar now marking her body. Gerda had assured her it was healing properly and it wouldn’t look as bad in the future, still she felt like it’d be one more thing holding her back, reminding her she wasn’t entirely normal.

Marshall’s thumb traced the faint, jagged line carefully, barely brushing her skin as if afraid to hurt her again. He studied the scar in silence, expression unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured at last, in a low voice. “If I hadn’t lost my temper and listened to you, maybe I could’ve helped you after you calmed down, you know, before it got infected.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Well, I could’ve been more careful with the broken window to begin with.”

Elsa followed his gaze, fingers twitching in his hand. She stayed silent, struggling to find words to make him feel better.

“It’s not your fault,” she said quietly, steadier than she expected.

Marshall’s brows furrowed. “Els, I’m the one who—”

“No,” she stopped him gently, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “I made a mistake that morning. I didn’t go straight to Gerda’s house like I said. I…” She glanced down at her hand. “I used a cloth to stop the bleeding, and I walked under the rain until I ran into someone. I completely forgot about the wound until I got to Gerda’s house in the afternoon.”

Marshall’s brows furrowed, cautious not to judge. “Someone important?” he asked.

Elsa hesitated, lips parting slightly, but footsteps outside the room stopped her before she could answer.

The moment Anna opened the door, Elsa instinctively straightened, withdrawing just a little.

Marshall stayed quiet, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he turned to see what her sister needed.

---

Anna’s head poked in, her eyes widening a little at the sight of them so close. “Oh, sorry,” she said quickly, taken aback, as though she’d just walked in on something. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Marshall straightened his back, turning in her direction, but he didn’t move away from Elsa.

“It’s fine,” he said evenly, though his tone betrayed his irritation.

Anna gave a small, sheepish laugh, brushing her palms down her jeans. “I might have a small problem. And I was wondering if you could help me?”

“Problem?” Elsa asked, the concern evident in her voice.

Anna’s smile softened, thinking how her sister managed to worry about others when she was the one in the hospital bed.

“One of the tires on Kristoff’s truck is completely flat,” she explained, holding up her dirty hands in mock defeat. “I tried to replace it, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I called for a tow, but they won’t get here for another two hours. Kristoff’s shift ends soon, and I was supposed to pick him up. And…” She exhaled slowly. “Honestly, I don’t really want to be standing out there alone for that long.”

“Right,” Marshall said automatically, already rising to his feet.

Halfway to the door, he stopped and glanced back at Elsa. “Wait— you shouldn’t be alone,” he murmured.

“I can stay with her if you—”

“No,” Elsa interrupted, shaking her head. “Go. Both of you. It’ll be faster that way.”

They both hesitated, exchanging a silent look. Neither willing to voice their real concern that she wasn’t exactly safe on her own.

Elsa gave them a small smile, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes but still meant they didn’t need to worry. “It’s just a few minutes.”

Marshall stood by the door, unsure of what to do.

“I’ll be fine,” Elsa insisted, meeting his gaze and holding it until he exhaled slowly. “Go help my sister.”

Finally, he nodded. “Alright. I’ll be quick.”

Anna lingered, feeling torn about leaving her sister. But she simply smiled reassuringly once again and followed after Marshall.

“I owe you,” she said when she finally caught up with him. “Big time.”

The air outside bit at their faces, the cold mountain air settling deeper into the wind. Anna tugged her coat tighter, grateful she could count on Marshall to give her a hand and not wait on her own for a couple of hours.

When they reached the truck, Marshall crouched immediately, assessing the jack already in place. He adjusted its position slightly, making sure it was secure before grabbing the spare from the back. His breath came in visible puffs as he worked.

Anna stood a little to the side, hugging herself against the cold. Whenever he reached for something, she wordlessly stepped forward to offer it, making things faster.

“You’re sure we should’ve both left?” she asked after a moment, glancing back towards the hospital entrance.

Marshall shook his head, loosening the nuts with steady, practiced movements.

“I’d rather one of us stayed,” he admitted, “but she’s right, it’s faster this way. And I wouldn’t have found Kristoff’s truck on my own.”

He slid the flat tire off the axle, dropping it aside. “If one of us stayed, it would’ve been obvious we don’t want her to be alone. Either because it’s dangerous…” He paused, glancing up briefly at Anna. “…or because we don’t trust her. Neither of those ideas are going to help her.”

Anna stayed quiet, watching as he fitted the spare into place. She passed him the nuts when he extended his hand without looking, memorizing each step of the process.

“Thanks. For doing this,” she said finally, her voice softer now.

“It’s just a tire,” he replied without looking up.

He lowered the jack without missing a beat. The spare touched the ground, and he gave it one last check before standing and brushing dust from his hands.

“I meant everything,” she said with a smile. “For staying with her. For being so comfortingly sweet.”

Marshall paused for a moment, something unreadable crossing his face as shame rose in his neck, but he recovered quickly.

“The plush cat doesn’t mean anything,” he muttered, his tone serious. “I noticed nobody’s brought her anything to make her feel at home. Being stuck between four walls all day isn’t helping her overcome the anxiety she’s feeling.”

Anna blinked, shame rising hot under her skin. She should’ve thought of that. She’d even refused to bring Elsa the book Iduna had bought her. She dragged a hand down her face, thinking how something so simple could have made things easier for Elsa.

Before she could get a hold of herself, Marshall was already speaking again.

“Anna,” he said, lifting the flat tire into the back of the truck, “could you ask Gerda about Elsa’s bracelet? She asked me to get it for her, but the nurses I asked had no clue. I keep meaning to ask Gerda or Kai, but…” He shook his head. “Well, I don’t know. I keep forgetting I guess.”

“You mean the white gold one?”

“I honestly don’t know. She just said Gerda gave it to her.”

Anna nodded, knowing exactly the bracelet he was talking about. She made a mental note to ask Gerda, perhaps the clinic had handed them Elsa’s possessions while she was in the ICU.

Marshall dusted his palms on his jeans and stepped back. “It should hold until you get home.”

“Thanks again.”

Marshall gave a half-shrug, already glancing back towards the hospital. “I’d better get back.”

---

By the time Marshall stepped back inside, his hands still smelled faintly of rubber and dust. He stopped to wash them quickly, then took the stairs two at a time, his pace quickening as he neared Elsa’s room.

When he stepped into the hall and rounded the corner, something made him slow.

Her door was slightly ajar and from inside, he heard a voice he hadn’t heard in days. Calm and kind, meant to sound professional while it carried no real regard.

Something pulled inside his chest as he felt a sudden burst of rage rising. Pushing the door open the rest of the way, he stepped into the room. Landvik stood at the foot of Elsa’s bed, clipboard in hand, his expression neutral but his voice seemed measured and overly gentle. The same false warm tone he had used with him before.

Elsa sat against her pillows, hands loosely folded in her lap. She wasn’t scared, but Marshall could see the tiny twitch in her fingers, her shoulders drawn tight and the subtle edge of unease she couldn’t hide.

---

I know what you’re thinking…

And the answer is no. I have no idea why or how inspiration got a hold of me so suddenly and I managed to write this so fast. It probably had something to do with the storm outside. Don’t get used to it, though, I’m still a mess at keeping a logical schedule.

I hope you liked it. Let me know what you think of this chapter… Chapter 60 no less. And if you haven’t read/commented on chapter 59, please let me know as well.

Anyway, have fun! And don’t get used to this mess! ;D

---

Tag time:

@swimmingnewsie @melody-fox @kristoffxannafanatic @kristannafictionals @neptrabbit  @skneez @ellacarter13 @wondering-in-life @who-i-am-8 @fanfictionrecommendations-com  @815-allisnotlost @khartxo @joannevixxon @betweenthedreams @burbobah @rileysfs  @earlvessalius  @blood-jewel @snowycrocus @the-sky-is-awake @disneyfan103 @anamaria8garcia @welovefrozenfanfiction  @bigfrozenfan @bigfrozenfan-archive @frozenartscapes  @deisymendoza  @zackhaikal123  @cornstarch @roostercrowedatmidnight @showurselfelsa @when-dawn-arrives @tare-disney  @wabitham @just-your-local-history-nerd @dontrunintofirexoxo @daphmckinnon @poketin @luna-and-mars  @shimmeringsunsets @aries1708  @wabitham @agentphilindaisy @spkfrozenkindikids123 @jimmi-arts @snowmanmelting @loonysama  @hiptoff @loonysama @tare-disney @frozenwolftemplar  @true–north @holycolordreamertree @bigfrozensix

He should have expected the board to place a hold on the transaction beforehand. He had, in a way, anticipated it. But he had hoped for more time. At least enough time to prepare a proper explanation, or get hold of his savings and return the money before it caught the accountants’ attention.

Shaking his head, he let out a low chuckle, imagining what his father would have thought of his mistakes. Rookie ones, at that. He had disappointed his father in more ways than he cared to count, but, for reasons he couldn’t explain, the only disappointments that still stung were the ones tied to the business.

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the desk and pressed his palms against his eyes, trying in vain to dull the pounding headache that had been building all day.

“I knew I’d find you here,” a voice cut through the silence.

Agdar raised his head, letting his hands drop with a loud thud on the desk, and noticed Mattias standing by the door.

The man, now in his sixties, had once been one of his father’s most trusted advisers despite being considerably younger than the rest of his consultants back then. Sensible and sharp, Mattias had a deep understanding of both business and politics, paired with a nonchalant attitude that made even the gravest matters feel less suffocating.

The gray in his beard and the weathered lines on his face made him look sterner than he was, though his eyes still carried the same focus Agdar had always admired. Whether he was speaking to businessmen or plant workers, the man had a natural talent. Always getting his point across with simplicity. Having always valued that, Agdar hadn’t hesitated to keep him around after Runeard’s passing. He was still grateful that Mattias had stayed with the company through the hardest times, before their technological breakthroughs made their products market leaders. Agdar truly considered Mattias his right hand.

“I could tell from your call that the urgent meeting was more serious than I’d imagined,” Mattias continued, stepping into the office and pulling back a chair to sit on the other side of the desk. “Things were calm when we left yesterday morning. Care to tell me what we’ve managed to do in the last twenty-four hours?”

Agdar hesitated, glancing down at the crumpled notes scattered on his desk. Incoherent words and half-formed sentences that he tried to put together in an attempt to explain his situation. None of it was good enough to convince the board why he needed the money so desperately without exposing things he wasn’t ready to reveal.

“Agdar?” Mattias tilted his head, searching for his eyes. “I haven’t seen you this worried since the last recession. What’s going on?”

“I need to tell you something,” Agdar said suddenly, surprising even himself. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to share, or how much he could risk saying aloud. But if there was one person whose advice he trusted, it was Mattias. He only hoped the man wouldn’t be too relentless in his judgment.

Mattias straightened slightly, shifting into the posture he usually reserved for tense board meetings. “Sounds serious.”

Agdar exhaled slowly, hesitating for a moment longer before he finally admitted, “I have another daughter.”

Mattias blinked. “You mean, on the way?” He paused, reading Agdar’s expression. “Are congratulations in order?”

“No. It’s—” Agdar shook his head. “I have another daughter,” he repeated, slower this time. “She’s older than Anna.”

Mattias leaned back, the old wood chair creaking under his weight. “Older? I’ve never heard of her.”

“No one has.” Agdar’s gaze dropped to the mess of notes again. Saying it aloud felt heavier now, as though the full confession had been placed on the table between them. “She was born before Iduna and I got married. We left her at an orphanage over twenty years ago. We told ourselves she’d have a better life with another family.”

Mattias’ brows lifted, though he didn’t speak at first. When the initial shock faded, he nodded slowly. “What about her mother?” he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Iduna’s the mother,” Agdar clarified, sharper than he intended. He’d assumed it was obvious. He hadn’t considered the possibility of people thinking there had been another woman before his wife until now, and he wondered if the board would leap to the same conclusion.

Mattias gave another slow nod, letting the information sink in. “How old is she?”

“Twenty-four.”

Mattias rubbed his goatee, deep in thought. The silence stretched uncomfortably, long enough to make Agdar shift in his seat, but he held back, waiting for his reaction.

“So,” Mattias said finally, meeting his gaze, “let me get this straight. You and Iduna had a daughter out of wedlock. You gave her up for adoption…”

“Yes.”

“Four years later, you had Anna.”

Agdar closed his eyes, bracing against the weight of his calm, measured tone. He could hear the unspoken judgment beneath it. “Yes,” he said quietly.

“Did Runeard know?”

“Yes,” Agdar replied, having expected the question. “We kept the pregnancy, as well as her birth, a secret for as long as we could. My father was never supportive of my relationship with Iduna, as you know. But I eventually needed to—”

Mattias leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, hands clasped together. “Why are you sharing this information with me now?” he interrupted. “After all these years?”

Agdar hesitated, thrown off by his lack of interest in the backstory or his father’s reaction to the news. Though, thinking about it, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Mattias rarely voiced opinions about Runeard and preferred to focus on solutions.

“I think you know the reason…”

“You need to let the board know there’s another successor. Is that it?” He guessed, knowing the board would be involved.

“Not entirely, but I fear that’s what they’ll think this is about.”

Mattias’ gaze sharpened. “I certainly thought it was strange for you to request a board meeting first thing Monday morning. For a moment, I assumed it had something to do with the unusual payments we managed to stop— that maybe someone was trying to use company funds in your name.”

“It’s all related.”

“Be clearer, Agdar.”

Agdar’s throat tightened. “Elsa’s in the hospital. She’s very ill, needing intensive care. She’s got a long recovery ahead of her.”

“I’m assuming Elsa’s your eldest daughter,” Mattias said, waiting for a nod before continuing. “Were you trying to pay for her treatment with company funds?”

Agdar avoided his gaze. “Yes.”

Mattias drew a slow breath, rubbing his hand over his chin again. “You should’ve told me this weeks ago.”

“I know.”

“The board won’t like this.”

“I need your help breaking the news and persuading them to approve these extraordinary transfers.”

Mattias leaned back, weighing his words carefully. “I’ll be honest with you, Agdar. The first thing they’ll want to know is if you’re paying for this woman’s silence.”

Agdar froze, looking back at him. “What do you mean?”

“Is she really Iduna’s?” Mattias asked evenly. “Or are you hoping I don’t ask too many questions about your past and just take your word for it. It’s hard to believe Iduna willingly abandoned her own daughter.”

Agdar’s jaw tightened.

“And,” Mattias continued, “is she actually sick or is this a cover?”

“I’m not lying to you, Mattias,” Agdar snapped, anger rising in his voice. “She is our daughter. She’s sick. And I’m not buying— I’m not buying her silence.”

Mattias studied him for a moment, then walked to the small bar in the corner. Without asking, he poured two glasses of whisky, handing one to Agdar before grabbing his own.

“So you are buying someone’s silence,” he said quietly.

Agdar inhaled sharply, feeling cornered. He hated how careless he’d been with his words. It was proof of just how much he needed Mattias’ help.

Mattias didn’t press, respecting the boundaries Agdar wasn’t ready to cross. His silence was answer enough. “All right,” he said finally, taking a slow sip. “What exactly do you need from me?”

Agdar gripped the glass tightly, staring into the amber liquid before answering. “Help me convince them this isn’t about hiding a mistake. It’s about helping someone who needs it.”

Mattias nodded slightly, lowering himself back into the chair. “If you don’t mind me asking… Why now, Agdar? After all these years.”

Agdar’s thumb traced the rim of the glass. “We found her recently. Or rather, she walked back into our lives by chance. We’ve been trying to fix our past mistakes ever since.”

“Will paying for her treatment erase those mistakes?”

“Of course not,” replied Agdar, dropping his gaze.

“Is there another way she can get the care she needs?”

“Look, Mattias, she’s seriously sick,” Agdar snapped. “I won’t let—”

“I’m not suggesting you abandon her again,” Mattias interrupted, his tone firm. “I’m asking the same questions the board will. They’ll want to know exactly who the company is funding, and why. As is, your story won’t satisfy them. You and Iduna abandoned a child, only to marry and have Anna three years later. Twenty years go by, and now, suddenly, she’s back and needs money.” Mattias sighed tiredly. “You’ve put yourself in a corner, Agdar.”

“I know. I know,” he repeated, frustration finally taking over. “But no one else can help her. It’s more than her adoptive family can afford, and I won’t let them go into debt when I have the means to help.”

“Why isn’t insurance handling this?”

“It’s complicated.”

Mattias studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “You have my word, I'll do everything I can to convince them. But I need everything — dates, amounts, paperwork, all of it.”

“You have it,” Agdar said quickly.

“Good. Once we have the numbers, we’ll work on your speech. Polish it so it paints you in a better light.”

Agdar immediately began pulling documents from his briefcase, spreading them across the desk. When he glanced up again, he noticed Mattias watching him, a quiet sadness in his eyes.

“What?” Agdar asked softly.

A small smile drew on his lips. “How’s the girl? Is she stable?”

Agdar hesitated. “I suppose. I haven’t seen her yet. She’s— It’s complicated.”

Mattias held his gaze a moment longer, then gave a short nod. “Let’s start with one step at a time. You can tell me about the rest when you’re ready.”

Agdar sank into the chair, relief and dread washing over him at once.

---

The wall-tall windows flooded the table with morning light, though still the conference room felt colder and darker than expected. In front of Agdar, sharp expressions waited for him.

The board was seated around the long oak table, every member watching him, silent, expectant, as if compelling him to explain why they’d all been called. A neat stack of papers and documentation rested untouched to his side, close to where Mattias was sitting. The man remained with his arms folded, silent, respecting rank, but ready to step in if needed.

Knowing there was no point delaying the inevitable, Agdar cleared his throat.

“Before we begin, let me be clear, this is an extraordinary meeting,” he said. “While nothing substantial has changed within the company since our last session, I need to address the matter of the unusual bank transfers, as I know several of you have expressed concerns.”

That earned a few nods around the table. Douglas Jørgensen, one of the older members, cleared his throat as he tapped his pen lightly against his notepad. A small, impatient gesture Agdar was familiar with.

Agdar went on, steady but careful. “The transfers in question were authorized by me, under an internal discretionary fund.”

“For personal use?” Johan Rosenberg, seated on the opposite side of the table, asked. His tone was neutral, almost casual, but Agdar knew better. It was a measured question, one meant for him to start being more clear.

“Yes,” Agdar admitted. “The funds were for medical care for—” He paused, clearing his throat again, hating the nerves that made his voice falter. “For my daughter. She’s currently in hospital and will need treatment for the foreseeable future.”

A low murmur broke around the table. Several members exchanged glances, brows drawn in confusion.

“Anna?” asked Nora Solberg, the only woman on the board and a longtime family acquaintance. Her concern was genuine. “Is she alright? What happened?”

“Anna’s fine.” Agdar reassured the members, “given the circumstances,” he added softly. “But it’s not her I’m talking about.”

Nora frowned. “Then who?”

Agdar’s mouth opened, then closed again. The words refused to come, and he couldn’t remember what Mattias had suggested he said.

Mattias shifted beside him, placing his hands on the table and straightening back.

“With your permission,” he said, his calm voice cutting through the tension. At Agdar’s brief nod, he addressed the room. “Agdar has another daughter. Her name is Elsa Bjorgman. She’s twenty-four and is currently receiving sepsis treatment at Vitalis Health Center.”

He then searched through the documents, pulling out the medical record that contained only the essential information. Without hesitation, he slid it across the table for the rest of the members to see.

A thick silence settled over the room. Every member’s gaze moved from Mattias to the paperwork before them, then, finally, to Agdar.

Agdar met their eyes one by one, steadying himself. There was no turning back now.

“My wife and I had Elsa before we were married,” he began. “We—” He cleared his voice again. “We left her in the care of an institution we trusted and didn’t maintain contact. That was primarily my decision… and my mistake. By the time we acknowledged what we’d done, she’d been adopted, and we were denied any possibility of finding her.”

He drew a slow breath, pushing through the weight in his chest. “Less than a year ago, she came back into our lives. Since then, we’ve been doing our best to rebuild a relationship with her.”

Saying the words aloud was unexpectedly grounding. It forced him to own them and finally step into the role he should have claimed years ago.

There was a long pause for a moment. Then John Eriksen, one of the younger members, who had recently taken his late father’s seat, broke the silence.

“You’re saying,” he began slowly, “that the company has been funding medical care for a woman no one here has ever met. Someone who isn’t listed in any family documentation or contingency plans?”

“She is my daughter,” Agdar replied. His tone was guarded, not liking Eriksen’s implication.

“She might be,” Eriksen countered evenly, “but for the company, and the investors, she isn’t. She doesn’t exist.”

Before Agdar could respond, Jørgensen cut in, his deeper voice grounding the discussion before an argument could erupt. “Mattias, you mentioned sepsis, did you not? What’s wrong with her? Is this a preexisting illness or…?”

Mattias, clearly lost for words, looked at Agdar who answered in a heartbeat. “Complications arose after an accident. Nothing more. Her doctor is optimistic she’ll recover if the treatment continues.” He scanned the room, trying to gather their reactions. “All the more reason to consider allowing me this exception.”

The board fell quiet, analyzing his words, weighing their implications.

Finally, Kornall Dahl, the most pragmatic voice in the board, leaned forward. “And how long,” he asked slowly, “did you plan to keep her existence from us? Why not introduce her formally? If she were acknowledged as part of the family, her treatment would’ve been covered by the insurance, would it not?”

“I originally had no intention of involving the company in personal affairs," Agdar said carefully. “Especially since Elsa is still adjusting to the idea of having met her biological parents. You may understand this isn’t easy for her.” He hesitated, then added, “But this situation escalated quickly. I had to act. I used internal funds because I couldn’t secure access to my own assets fast enough. I take full responsibility for that decision, and I intend to repay the company the moment I’m in a position to do so.”

Taking the opportunity to draw the attention back to what was needed, Mattias stepped in. “Funding this medical care will delay a few of our latest projects. But it’s nothing we haven’t done in the past. What matters now is how we proceed. The board can choose to formalize the medical support under humanitarian sponsorship and it might not necessarily attract investors’ scrutiny.”

Eriksen leaned forward sharply. “What happens after? Shall she be regarded as your successor?”

Agdar frowned, but Mattias was the first to respond. “That’s not what we’re discussing.”

Eriksen continued, ignoring him, “I’m sure I’m not the only one wondering what will happen after this, am I?” He asked, looking around at his peers. “She could have a say in the company. Investors will wonder what happens now. They trust Anna’s reliability. This woman’s however—”

“Elsa.” Agdar corrected, his eyes narrowing. 

“Right. Elsa.” Eriksen corrected himself tiredly. “She could become a problem later on. In your absence, she could demand her share. The company can’t cover that without selling part of the plant or the more advanced projects.”

“Anna is still the designated successor,” Agdar said firmly. “Elsa has no interest in the business.”

“That’s what you want to believe,” Eriksen shot back. “You’re looking at this through rose-tinted glasses. If she chooses to claim her rights, we have to comply. The stock market will react to this sooner or later.”

“I agree with Eriksen,” Jørgensen said, his tone calmer but no less serious. “This changes how the company’s perceived. Once employees hear about this, it’ll spread. The values we’ve promoted for years will come under scrutiny one way or another.”

“Then we manage it,” Mattias said with conviction. “We can’t pretend she doesn’t exist because it’s inconvenient. If we respect Agdar’s private life and control how the information circulates, it doesn’t have to become public knowledge. And if it does, we’ll frame it for what it is: the company supporting someone in need. That’s the narrative we hold onto.”

“The press might be interested in knowing the full story if it becomes public knowledge.” Nora commented, pointing out the risks.

Agdar inhaled deeply. “Then I’ll face it. This company was built on responsibility and family values.”

Nora leaned back slowly, studying him, then gave a small nod. “Let us see the figures,” she said finally, “as well as the projects that would have to be postponed. We’ll take a full board vote before noon.”

Agdar nodded once, placing a steady hand over the stack of documents beside him. “Here’s everything you need to review.”

---

The conference room had mostly emptied, but the air around Agdar still felt heavy. The tension remained, like smoke that refused to clear. There were low hums of lingering comments as the last members of the board picked up their things and made their way out.

Agdar remained seated at the head of the table, shoulders slumped against the leather chair, the transcript of the meeting lying open before him. Selma, his secretary, had left it there before heading out to start preparing some necessary paperwork after the meeting. He had read it twice already, yet his eyes kept wandering back to the same few sentences, as though repeating them would somehow make them easier to carry.

The board had agreed to cover Elsa’s treatment. Some members had been reluctant, but none had dared to vote against it in the end. They all accepted the same truth: denying a young woman medical care was inexcusable.

Still, their approval came at a cost. Two conditions, both of which Agdar had agreed to, though one unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

The first was transparency. It sounded simple enough in their words — fair even. But it was a lot more difficult to put into practice than they imagined. Their request was for Elsa to now be formally acknowledged as a member of the founding family on paper. They could guarantee for the insurance to cover any future medical needs as long as the documentation was in order. It was logical and sensible. And yet, Agdar’s chest tightened as he thought of what it’d mean for Elsa. Would she understand the necessity or would she see it as a deceiving way to force her back into the family?

The second condition was far worse. Disengagement. The word alone hit him like a punch to the gut. He knew exactly what it meant. Sooner or later, Elsa would have to sign a carefully worded agreement. They’d ask her to give up any right to the business, her name neatly erased from succession and ownership records, despite the previous acknowledgement of her existence.

The more he read those words, the sicker he felt. He had agreed to convince her to sign it. The thought made his hand clench against the armrest until his knuckles turned white. In other words, he had agreed to disown her.

The only two people who had stayed behind didn’t speak. They simply watched him as he stared down at the transcript, letting the silence sit until Agdar finally lowered the pages and met their eyes.

Nora and Mattias had known his family longer than most. Nora, always composed, had returned to the company after Runeard’s death and had since become one of Agdar’s closest confidants on the board. Mattias, steady and loyal in ways Agdar didn’t deserve. They had both stayed to keep him company, knowing he wasn’t taking it well.

Nora slid a chair closer, resting her elbows on the polished table, while Mattias leaned against the tall window, arms crossed.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” Nora said softly. “The vote went your way.”

“Barely,” he murmured, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the armsrest.

“Still,” Mattias added, his voice steady, “a win is a win. Your daughter will receive the care she needs.”

They let the words settle for a moment before Nora leaned forward, folding her arms on the table.

“I’ve known you a long time, Agdar. I knew your father, too.” Her tone shifted, her words measured. “This is how Runeard would’ve handled things.”

Agdar’s lips tightened. “I know, but it doesn’t make it right.”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” Nora said, sternly. “This is the kind of decision he would have made. Not you.”

“I had to meet them halfway,” Agdar replied, his voice low, defensive despite himself. “I need to have everything in order by tomorrow.”

“You said Elsa wants nothing to do with the company,” Mattias said carefully. “If that’s true, then disengagement might not be as bad as it looks. Or is that just what you’re hoping for?”

Agdar shook his head, rubbing his forehead. “She doesn’t know the first thing about stocks or boardrooms… I don’t think she wants this. She wants nothing to do with me.”

Nora studied him for a long moment before asking, more gently, “So you think she’ll sign?”

He hesitated, then exhaled. “She’ll sign if it means I stay out of her life.” The words tasted bitter. “But this—” He pushed the transcript away from him. “This was the only thing I could actually give her. I didn’t give her my name. I didn’t give her the life she deserved. And now I’m stripping her of her birthright?” He paused, his throat tightening. “Anna and Iduna will never forgive me.”

Nora and Mattias exchanged a pained look, but neither spoke. Business advice had always come easily to them; family matters, on the other hand, were different.

Mattias cleared his throat softly. Desperate to shift the focus to something other than Agdar’s past mistakes, he asked, “What’s she like?”

Agdar blinked at the unexpected question and leaned back in his chair, thinking about the question. “She’s withdrawn,” he finally said. “Quiet. She doesn’t trust easily. But she isn’t unkind. Just… guarded.” His brow furrowed, his voice softening. “She’s a good person. Kinder than she has any reason to be, after everything she’s been through.” He swallowed hard. “I can’t believe I keep making things worse for her.”

“She’s still young,” Nora said gently. “She’s survived this far without you, Agdar. She’ll manage. You’re helping her now — the only way you can.”

Agdar gave a small nod, though it looked more like resignation than agreement.

Mattias pushed himself off the wall and slipped his suit coat back on. “For what it’s worth,” he said, choosing to stay with the glass half full, “I’m glad the vote passed. I wouldn’t have slept tonight knowing we’d turned our backs on her.”

Agdar nodded and rose from his seat, walking them both to the door.

“If she’s anything like what you’ve described,” Nora said as she stepped out, “I hope we meet her someday.”

He watched them go, the silence returning as soon as the door clicked shut behind them.

Agdar stood there for a moment, motionless, before his gaze fell back to the papers scattered on the table. With a tired sigh, he sat down again, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He buried his face in his hands, trying to hide the shame that was threatening to consume him.

Ever since Anna had first come to him, explaining what the Bjorgmans needed at the hospital, he’d felt — for the first time in years — that he was doing something right. Signing those authorizations, sending those funds… Each action felt like stitching together a small piece of the past, helping put together what he had once torn apart. But now, all he could think about was that it wasn’t only the past he had taken from her, it was her future as well.

Every act of help came attached to a cost. A cost Elsa didn’t even know she was paying.

That truth broke something in him. His eyes brimmed with tears and, this time, he didn’t hold them back. He sat there, silent and trembling, haunted by the realization that he was becoming a mirror of his father. And he despised it.

He hoped that someday, somehow, he’d make it alright.

---

A different chapter, but one I was eager to write.

I had planned just one scene from Agdar’s POV, but I ended up liking the idea of showing the whole meeting. I hope I haven’t bored you with so much business stuff. I think it was worth showing what this domino effect is causing.

Also, I’ve been reviewing my notes and realized I might tweak a few things. I’ll finish Søsken as planned, but so many new plot ideas came up during this story that I’m already considering a sequel. What I’m trying to say is, sorry in advance! LOL

I hope you enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think.

I’ll try my best to get up to date with my replies and comments. I apologise to all of you who have left so many lovely reviews and I haven’t replied yet. I read every single one of them and I love them! I’ll get back to you, I promise.

Read you all soon!

----

Tag time:

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He hesitated, wondering if it was worth disturbing the old couple at this hour. Then again, maybe the porch light had simply been left on by mistake, forgotten in the haze of exhaustion that had become part of them over the past few weeks. He massaged one of his shoulders, feeling the tension settle in with a weight that seemed heavier now that he had to talk to them about Elsa’s mental state. With a steadying breath, he made up his mind. Even if they were already asleep, at least he could crash in his old bedroom and speak to Gerda before she left for the hospital in the early morning.

To his surprise, the house was not only lit but warm, the scent of something faint and herbal lingered in the air. It was safe to bet Gerda was awake brewing some tea. He found himself wishing she wasn’t. If she was up this late, it meant something was keeping her mind restless too. Still, he couldn’t really blame her, not when he hadn’t managed a full night’s sleep in weeks himself.

He was taking off his coat when voices from the other room caught his attention.

"I won't. There’s no reason for me to give that man a minute of my life. I'll stay with Elsa.”

He heard his mother’s voice. She sounded tired and somewhat annoyed, like she’d said the same thing too many times already.

“Nielsen said he can't be there, Gerda. I just want someone who understands about these things. Just in case.” Kai sounded just as tired. Proving whatever they were discussing had clearly dragged on far too long.

With a tired sigh, Kristoff paused before he entered the kitchen. He would’ve rather found them asleep, and not in the middle of an argument. Moments like this always brought back a quiet, painful thought. More than once he wondered whether there were days they regretted adopting him and Elsa. No matter how much love they had given, it was undeniable that their lives had changed the moment they walked into their lives.

“I won’t be entertaining Haugen,” Gerda said sharply. “That sick man is playing with all of us.”

"And what would you have me do? Refuse? We need the money to keep Elsa safe whether you like it or not."

Kristoff didn’t like where this was going. He knew they were both speaking from fear, not anger, but it didn’t make it easier to hear. Wanting to help ease the tension, he stepped into the kitchen.

He had barely opened his mouth to greet his parents when Gerda continued.

“You really believe sitting through another one of his meetings is going to change anything? We already know what he wants, and it has nothing to do with Elsa’s well-being. He’s curious. Curious about Elsa. Curious about why Agnarr Arendelle is paying for her treatment.”

“I don’t like it either,” Kai said, there was a quiet strain in his father’s voice. “But if we refuse, they’ll see it as resistance. That won’t help Elsa.”

Not wanting to hear another word of it, Kristoff cleared his throat—loud enough to make them both turn toward him.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked when met his gaze.

"Kristoff," Gerda said, her expression immediately softening. "We weren’t expecting you."

Kai rubbed a hand over his face. "You picked a great time to walk in."

Kristoff gave a weary smile. "Yeah, I can tell… What’s going on?"

Slouching into a chair, Kai exhaled heavily. “Haugen’s requested another meeting. This time, he says it’s about the payment. Something with the bank, or… I don’t know. He claims he needs to meet Agnarr in person to settle it.”

“He wants to meet Agnarr. That’s it. There’s nothing else to discuss,” Gerda said, turning her back to them as she poured herself a cup of tea.

Kristoff frowned, the unease in his chest growing. He didn’t want to believe Haugen would request Agdar’s presence just for the sake of meeting with him. Though the more he thought about it, he preferred that to be the case, something wrong with the payment seemed a lot more concerning.

“Settle it?” he repeated, suddenly alert. “I thought everything was taken care of. Elsa’s safe, isn’t she?"

Kai nodded, trying to appease him. "There’s some issue with how the payments have been processed. Haugen says he wants to clear it up directly with Agdar, but it shouldn’t affect anything—so long as they meet sometime this week.”

“There’s no reason for me to be in that meeting, yet your father keeps insisting,” Gerda cut in, turning her focus to Kristoff now, her voice tight with frustration. She wanted him to understand, not just the situation, but the reason she wasn’t okay with taking part in the meeting.

“I met with Agnarr today,” Kai continued, ignoring his wife. “We talked about it and agreed to meet Haugen tomorrow morning. We want either Nielsen or Gerda to be there in case Haugen tries to steer the conversation towards Elsa’s treatment.”

Gerda leaned against the counter, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “I’m not leaving Elsa alone just in case, Kai.”

Kristoff ran a hand through his hair. The entire thing felt off. But what choice did they have? They couldn’t simply refuse, and Kai was right in wanting either Nielsen or Gerda present with them. At least someone would be able to push back if Haugen tried anything.

“Perhaps we could ask Marshall to stay an hour or two after his shift,” Kristoff said quietly. “He came around eleven tonight.”

“He was late again?” Kai asked, his voice raising.

“I asked him to.” His tone was definite, no place for arguments. He was tired of going in circles with his father over the mountaineer.

Gerda pressed her lips together, already sensing where this would lead. If she let them keep going, it would end in another argument. She raised her hand dismissively. “Enough of this. It’s late. We don’t need to waste any more energy talking about Haugen. Ask one of Agdar’s lawyers to be present, it might put the man in his place. What’s the point of dragging them into this mess if we’re not going to use them?”

“Gerda, please,” Kai said wearily, like it was a path they’d already walked too many times.

“We kept her safe for years,” Gerda said, stopping him cold. “All for nothing, it seems. In less than a month, over ten people have found out about her powers. Friends. Foes. It’s only a matter of time before this spirals out of control if we keep trusting everyone around her.”

Kai sighed. He didn’t want to argue, but her words struck a chord. “It was a matter of time, wasn’t it? I mean… two accidents in six months. She hasn’t exactly been careful, Gerda. This has been coming for a while.”

“Being careful means hiding, doesn’t it?” Kristoff snapped. He hated what his father was implying. Elsa had made mistakes, he wouldn’t deny it; but the people who found out were her sister and the one man who hadn’t thought twice about staying by her side every night. It wasn’t carelessness. It was only logical they’d find out eventually. It meant Elsa was finally letting people in. “Living isolated from everything and everyone? Is that what you wanted for her?”

“That's not what I mean.”

“Isn’t it?” Kristoff’s voice was sharp now. “Because that sure looked like the plan when you kept her hidden from the rest of the family.”

Kai dragged a hand down his face with a sigh. “I already explained this—”

“You didn’t even give her the chance to prove your brothers wrong,” Kristoff cut in. His voice trembled with restrained anger. “She could’ve shown them who she really is.” He was hurt by his uncles and aunt, but even more hurt at Kai for thinking their only choice was to keep Elsa away. “I won’t argue that Elsa’s better off without them. But hiding her from the world still feels wrong.”

“Kristoff,” Kai snapped, frustration rising. “What did you want us to do? Let her meet them just to feel like an outsider? To watch her get dismissed by the very people she should be calling family? I’d rather help her stay hidden than see her go through that kind of heartache.”

“Or you could've given her a choice.”

“What makes you think we didn't?” Kai snapped back.

Kristoff opened his mouth to reply, but closed it as soon as the words sinked in. Slowly, he turned to his mother, looking for reassurance, or at least an explanation.

“It was her choice, dear,” Gerda said quietly. “She didn’t want to meet them either.”

“You told her?” His fists tightened. He tried to control the urge to lash out, but disbelief boiled in his chest. “Why—what were you thinking?”

“We had to,” Gerda replied, firm but understanding. “You traveled there every summer. You talked non-stop about your cousins.”

“We sat her down to talk when she turned eighteen,” Kai added. “You were planning a visit to your Uncle Nikolai that winter.”

Gerda’s expression softened, a sad smile tugging at her lips. “She already suspected it. All we did was confirm what she’d felt for a long time.” She kept her gaze low, as if replaying that moment in her mind. “We offered her the chance to meet them. To prove them wrong, like you said. We would’ve travelled by car—the four of us.”

“Not getting to know them was her decision,” Kai said more gently now. “She saw no point in meeting people who had already made up their minds about her.”

Kristoff leaned on the back of a chair. Sadness and a strange sense of guilt taking over. “Why didn’t she tell me?” he asked, voice low as he turned to Gerda. “To find out something like this… It must’ve crushed her.”

Gerda gave a small, sad nod. “She didn’t want you to get caught in the middle. She knew how much they meant to you. She wanted you to have a whole family.”

“She’s my whole family…”

“I know, dear.” Gerda stepped closer and gently laid a hand on his shoulder, a soft touch meant to comfort, though the ache in his chest remained.

The three of them stayed silent for a while. Kai was the first to break it, excusing himself. He needed to meet Agnarr at his office in the early morning before they both headed to the hospital.

Kristoff nodded, bidding him goodnight. Then he sat down at the table with a sigh. He expected Gerda to follow, but to his surprise, she walked over to the fridge instead. She opened it and began sorting through the leftovers. Her movements were slower than usual, probably more tired than she let on.

"You haven’t eaten, have you?" she asked, glancing at him over her shoulder.

Kristoff hesitated, then shrugged. "I grabbed something earlier."

Gerda scoffed softly. "That means no."

She pulled out a plate with some tuna and vegetables from their dinner earlier. “Eat,” she said, placing it in front of him.

Kristoff watched her carefully as she picked up her mug and sat beside him. His brows furrowed as he studied her more closely. He’d spent the entire afternoon with Elsa, staying well into the evening until Marshall arrived to take over for the night. Gerda should’ve had a break. She should’ve rested. But looking at her now, she seemed more worn down than he’d have hoped.

Part of him wanted to talk about what Elsa had said. The other part couldn’t bear the thought of burdening his mother with yet another heavy choice.

“How’s Anna?” Gerda asked, her tone lighter, deliberately steering the conversation towards something other than their recent argument.

“She’s fine,” Kristoff replied, taking a bite. “She’s staying at her parents’ tonight. It’s been a while since she visited.”

Gerda hummed and nodded, then eyed him curiously. “So, what brings you here at this hour?”

Kristoff paused mid-bite, realizing he didn’t have a simple answer. He set the fork down, suddenly losing his appetite. Rubbing the back of his neck before meeting Gerda’s gaze.

“I came because of Elsa.”

Gerda’s expression softened, but there was a flicker of concern in her eyes. "What about her?"

Kristoff hesitated for a second, searching for the right words. "She asked me something earlier," he said, his voice quieter now. "She wanted to know if you were okay."

Gerda’s face didn’t change at first, but her fingers tightened slightly around the mug. She didn’t speak, so Kristoff continued.

“I didn’t know what to tell her. I tried to— I didn’t lie.”

Gerda sighed and placed the cup down gently. "Kristoff—"

"She’s not okay," he interrupted. "She’s exhausted all the time. She’s afraid. The medicine keeps making her sick— you’ve seen it. And on top of all that, she’s wondering if there’s something wrong with you. She didn’t say it outright, but I think she’s blaming herself. And no one’s telling her the truth.”

Gerda pressed her lips together, looking away. "I don’t know if telling her will help," she admitted. "She already has so much to carry. If she finds out—"

“She deserves to know,” Kristoff said firmly. “She’s stuck in her own head, imagining the worst. We think we’re protecting her, but what if we’re only making it worse?”

Gerda sighed again, slower this time. She glanced down at her arm, almost like she could still feel the burn through her sleeve. “I just…” She shook her head, voice trailing off. “I don’t want to push her over the edge.”

Kristoff leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "She’s scared. And if you don’t tell her the truth, she’s going to keep tearing herself apart over this."

Gerda was silent for a long moment, eyes locked on the table. “I’ll think about it,” she said finally. “See how she’s doing.”

Kristoff watched her closely once again. The weariness in her face, the way her shoulders slumped. It wasn’t just tiredness. It was something deeper, and he felt awful for only making it worse.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t come to make things harder.”

Gerda shook her head and offered a small smile. “You’re just looking out for her. That’s not something to apologize for.”

It still didn’t sit right. Kristoff had always known his mother to be strong—unshakable, even. She had spent years taking care of others, holding everything together no matter how hard things got. Now, that strength seemed to be fading, and it struck him just how much she needed Elsa to pull through.

"You should rest," he said softly. "You look exhausted."

Gerda let out a breathy laugh. "I’ll rest when things settle down."

A smile tugged at his lips. "That’s what you always say."

She reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "Because it’s the truth."

He wanted to argue, tell her she couldn’t keep running herself into the ground like this. But before he could, she spoke again.

“I missed having you home,” she said gently. “I wish I could have you both here. It feels wrong for the three of us to be home while she’s all alone in there… Maybe I should go stay with her.”

She looked at the clock and Kristoff knew she was honestly thinking about it.

“Marshall’s with her,” he said before she made up her mind. “Please stay home and sleep.” He ordered firmly. “And maybe…” He said after a pause.

Gerda looked at him.

“Why don’t you go with Dad to the meeting tomorrow?”

“Kristoff, I already—”

“I think he needs you there,” he said in a lower voice. “Elsa will be okay. Marshall won’t hesitate to stay, and I can go pick up Anna before work. She’ll be glad to help.”

---

“I hear you’re feeling down.”

The doctor spoke to her again.

Elsa let his voice blur into an indistinct hum, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond him. The weight of Gerda’s hand was warm and grounding. It was what she needed, but the moment it was gone, a cold numbness settled in its place. She clenched her fingers into the sheets draped over her lap, trying to still the tremor in her hands.

“I can ease your pain and get you on your feet again.”

She tried to block out the voice, even though something about it tugged at her memory. It was louder now, impossible to ignore. Letting go of the sheets, she reached for Gerda’s sleeve, seeking comfort. But she pulled away suddenly. Elsa’s stomach twisted, her chest tightening with a suffocating dread. Deep down she knew what she had done to deserve this.

“Just a little pinprick. You may feel a little sick.”

She did feel sick. She wasn’t sure if it was the needle or the hollowness inside that caused it.

“Can you stand up? Stand up.”

She couldn’t. She was suffocating and in pain. She needed help.

“I do believe it's working,” the doctor said, a grin drawing on his face. “Good. That'll keep you going through the show.”

“Show?” she wondered.

“Come on, it’s time to go.”

Before she could ask what he meant or ask Gerda for help, the voice around her distorted, like an echo inside an empty room. The temperature dropped suddenly and Gerda dropped her tight smile. She shook her head and walked out the door. 

Elsa sat in the hospital bed with effort. She called after her, but no sound came. She couldn’t breathe. She tried to speak again but her throat burned. She managed a few strained, painful, words.

“I didn’t mean to,” Elsa tried to explain.

The light flickered as a door slammed in the distance. The latch fell in place and it echoed all around her. She looked down at her hands as they covered the room in frost. The ice on the walls cracked; she was freezing everything. She tried to stop it, but the cold spread, like ivy growing over a door.

Then, the lights went out.

Elsa woke with a sharp breath.

Gripping her gown, she tried to get rid of the pressure on her chest. She couldn’t get air in. Her eyes darted around, desperate to make sense of where she was. The room was dark and still. Shapes loomed around her in shadows: the foot of the bed, the unfamiliar walls… The hospital hadn't been just part of a nightmare. It wasn’t a dream.

Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. Her other hand clawed at the blanket, and sharp pain shot through her left arm. Her body curled instinctively, she rolled onto her side as her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. A vain attempt to hold herself together.

Tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her face before she could stop them. She pressed her forehead to the mattress, trying to hide from the world. Her thoughts spiraled out of control, flashes of a life she had been too naive to believe intertwined with a past she wanted to forget. The voices from her dream sliced through her mind, dragging up memories she wished had stayed buried.

The silence of the room didn’t comfort her, it only closed the walls in on her. She was drowning and she couldn’t cry out. Her throat had closed completely. Her fingers twitched against her middle as her powers desperately begged to be released, but something lulled them, keeping them uncomfortably numbed and unreachable.

She stayed curled in on herself, crushed beneath the weight of her own panic, unable to breathe.

---

The nights were quiet. Too quiet. Especially since they'd left the ICU. Back then, the constant beeping of machines had driven Marshall half-mad, but at least there had been noise. A predictable rhythm, he could focus on. Now there was only silence.

He wasn’t sure what he preferred anymore. He didn’t miss the chaos and uncertainty of the ICU. But the quietness made it feel like the world had stopped, making it harder for him to stop the exhaustion from creeping up on him.

The sleepless nights were catching up, wearing him thin. And now, when Elsa truly needed him to stay alert, he found himself struggling to keep his eyes open. To make matters worse, he couldn’t really sleep during the day, his head refused to let him. Forcing him to stay alert, restless, like it was waiting for something to go wrong.

Running during the mornings had helped, but not nearly as much as he had hoped. It helped him avoid his mother’s husband and allowed him to find a routine of his own. But it didn’t get rid of his constant worries. It was only when he was near her, seated in that stiff chair by her bed, that the tension began to ease slowly.

The only sound in the room was Elsa’s soft, steady breathing as she slept, which didn’t help him too much either. He sometimes joked, silently, that it was her fault. Her calm breathing, her stillness, the way she slowed the spinning of his thoughts by just existing. Even like this, she grounded him in a way no one else ever had.

In these quiet moments, he realised just how much he missed her. Not just her presence, but everything else. He missed the way she snapped at him when he wouldn’t listen. The way she tilted her head when he said something overly complicated. The way she invited him hiking, pretending it was about the trail when really, she just needed to talk about family or vent about her clients. He missed that version of Elsa he had come to love through the years.

At first, he hadn’t seen her that way—at least, not that he remembered. But somehow, somewhere along the line, those feelings had taken hold so firmly it was as if they'd always been a part of him. Some nights, Marshall would catch himself wondering how she'd managed to get under his skin. He doubted she even realised how much space she took up in his life.

It had annoyed him at the beginning. The way she slipped into his thoughts, like she had any right to do so. How protective he felt and how irrational it made him.

Now, it terrified him.

Her illness, as well as everything he’d learned about her past, had struck a nerve deep down. He didn’t just want to be there for her. He needed to. And that need scared him. Because if something happened, he wasn’t sure how he’d react without her to anchor him.

He ran a hand over his face, scrubbing his eyes to blink the sleep away and focus on more important things. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his forehead on the side of her bed. His hands clasped loosely in front of him.

His mind was still preoccupied with Ingrid. He hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to her yet. He wanted to see what she had to say before he raised suspicion or talked to Nielsen about it. The woman had never struck him as someone capable of doing harm, but there was this itch in the back of his mind. A suspicion he kept trying to push down because it made him feel paranoid and helpless, and the more that helplessness twisted inside of him, the angrier he became.

His anger had cost him things before. And now, with Elsa, he was scared it could cost him more than he could ever replace. He’d promised himself, and Elsa in a quiet moment once, that he wouldn't go back to that version of himself. But now he wasn’t so sure he could keep that promise.

---

At some point during the night, he must have dozed off, his forehead resting against the edge of her mattress. Sleep kept claiming him in strange positions he’d somehow gotten used to, but it wasn’t long until the sound of rustling sheets pulled him from his light sleep.

His eyes blinked open as he raised his head. And with the help of the dim light from the hallway he managed to notice what was happening.

Elsa had curled onto her side, her arms wrapped so tightly around herself he almost missed how violently they were trembling. She was hunched, her chest rising and falling in shallow, frantic breaths. Her face was half-hidden, pressed to the mattress. Her fingers gripped her gown tightly like she was trying to keep herself from falling apart.

“Elsa,” Marshall exclaimed, alarmed, sitting up straighter.

She didn’t answer. Though her eyes were wide open, they were unfocused, distant. Silent tears streamed down her face. Her lips parted slightly, as if trying, and failing, to draw in some air.

Marshall’s stomach dropped. “Elsa?” he called her name again in a steadier voice. “You’re at the hospital, but I’m here.”

She didn’t respond and so he stood up to assist her. His hand hovered for a second before he lowered it down and touched her left arm lightly. At his touch, she flinched, like she was bracing from something to come. His chest tightened, recognising the panic state she was in.

He crouched down to her level, his hand gently caressing her arm. “You’re okay. It’s just me. Can you hear me?”

She didn’t respond and he tried again, softer this time. “You’re not alone, Elskling.”

Still nothing. He glanced toward the door, weighing his options. Calling someone in would likely do more harm than good, so he dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

Instead, he turned back to her and gently laid his hand over hers. It was still tightly fisted in the fabric of her gown, so he didn’t try to make her let go. He slid his fingers between hers, threading them carefully through the gaps in her clenched hand. Just enough to let her know he was there. He could feel the shallow rise and fall of her chest beneath their hands, each breath strained and uneven.

“You don’t have to talk,” he murmured. “Just give a small squeeze. Once. If you hear me.”

He waited a moment. Her fingers didn’t move. His own heartbeat began to pound in his ears until he felt the faintest twitch. Marshall exhaled quietly, his grip adjusting just enough to let her know he wasn’t letting go.

“Good,” he whispered. “That’s good. I need you to breathe with me. In and out. Just follow my pace.”

With each breath in, he tightened his hold slightly, enough to guide her and signal when to follow. He stayed like that, crouched beside the bed, his free hand gently caressing her hair. A minute passed, then another, until her breathing hitched. Her chest no longer fought with every breath, the tremor in her arms and shoulders slowly beginning to fade.

“I’ve got you,” he said quietly. “You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

He didn’t move. His hand remained wrapped softly over hers, fingers still threaded through hers. Her skin was still impossibly cold, but thanks to the medication, there was no frost to worry about.

After another moment, her fingers relaxed slightly, loosening their grip on the cloth. She blinked until her eyes gradually focused. She didn’t meet his gaze, but it was clear she recognized where she was. She didn’t speak, and Marshall didn’t expect her to. She stayed curled on her side, arms wrapped around herself.

Eventually, her hand loosened its grip on the gown and turned to his instead. Her fingers curled around his with quiet hesitance. There was a fragile stillness to her now, and though the tears had stopped, she seemed like she was about to shatter at any moment.

He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, to hold her tightly and promise her she was safe. But he didn’t move. Didn’t speak nor push. Instead, he shifted carefully, mindful not to startle her. He reached for the chair and dragged it closer, the legs scraping softly against the floor.

Elsa’s shoulders jerked at the sound, and she closed her eyes, drawing in a breath. She let go of his hand and wiped at the remaining tears. He could feel the weight of her shame and uncertainty even if she didn’t voice it.

Marshall looked away, giving her that inch of privacy she probably didn’t know how to ask for. He kept his eyes on the floor, but his hand continued to stroke her side, right where her fingers had held the gown moments earlier. She didn’t flinch or pull away, and he took that as permission to comfort her the only way he could.

He stayed like that, silent, waiting for her to either drift off to sleep or speak when she was ready.

After some minutes, she moved. Slowly, Elsa placed her hand on his wrist and guided his hand down to the mattress, resting it beside her own. Her injured arm remained curled around her middle, hidden beneath the sheets, but he figured he could check it later.

She placed her hand in his again, holding it gently. She drew a shaky breath in before she spoke, her voice was barely audible and so Marshall leaned forward. “What was that?”

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she said loud enough just for him to listen.

Marshall’s stomach tightened. The unspoken implication hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. He leaned closer, his voice surprisingly steady. “You’ve been through hell. And somehow, you’re still here. I know it’s hard waking up in a place like this, but I swear to you, it won’t always be this way. It will get better. You just have to hold on a little longer.

“Listen to me,” he said, seeing his words weren’t reaching her. “You don’t have to face any of this alone. You’ve got your family... and you’ve got me.”

At last, Elsa looked at him. There was something hollow in her eyes, an emptiness that came from long before they met.

“I’m tired,” she murmured, as if she was talking to herself.

“I know.”

He held her hand a little tighter, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. For a second, she let herself lean into it. But then she hesitated, trying to pull her hand away, and Marshall stopped her.

“No,” he said firmly. “I won’t let you retreat into yourself.”

“I could hurt—”

“You won’t.”

“I hurt Gerda,” she said, not meeting his gaze.

“You didn't—” He stopped, finding no reason to lie. It wasn't a question after all. “The day they brought you out of the coma," he started slowly, "your body wasn’t responding accordingly, I guess the ice reacted on its own. It doesn't mean you hurt her.”

Elsa’s breath caught. "So I did."

"You didn’t," he said quickly. "You weren’t even conscious. Do you hear me?"

She didn’t answer, simply stared down at their hands. She tried to pull her hand away again, but he wouldn't let her.

He shook his head, squeezing her hand. “Whatever happened when you were unconscious is not your fault.”

He waited, hoping she’d say something more. He needed her to understand it was okay to reach out and ask for help.

“You won't hurt me.” Marshall kissed her hand reassuringly. “You won't get rid of me either, so stop trying to pull away.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and she gave him a faint nod.

“I won't leave you alone.”

---

I sure hope he can keep his word— What? What was that? Hi! New chapter!

It took me a little bit longer than I originally imagined to edit this chapter. Kristoff had things to say, and at some point I stopped trying to control him. I let him do whatever he wanted.

Also, you may have noticed the doctor's words come from the song "Comfortably numb" by Pink Floyd. The first time those memories resurfaced was in the homonymous chapter 45. There isn't a clue or anything in there, I just really like the song and thought it was creepy enough to be part of Elsa's memories.

I keep having this feeling that in all these chapters nothing’s really happening, but I realised I couldn’t move forwards if I didn’t take my time to build the atmosphere for what’s coming next. Things were going to feel too rushed, so bear with me. I hope you’re enjoying them nonetheless.

As always, let me know what you think. I love reading your comments and thoughts.

Tag time:

@swimmingnewsie @melody-fox @kristoffxannafanatic @kristannafictionals @neptrabbit  @skneez @ellacarter13 @wondering-in-life @who-i-am-8 @fanfictionrecommendations-com  @815-allisnotlost @khartxo @joannevixxon @betweenthedreams @burbobah @rileysfs  @earlvessalius  @blood-jewel @snowycrocus @the-sky-is-awake @disneyfan103 @anamaria8garcia @welovefrozenfanfiction  @bigfrozenfan @bigfrozenfan-archive @frozenartscapes  @deisymendoza  @zackhaikal123  @cornstarch @roostercrowedatmidnight @showurselfelsa @when-dawn-arrives @tare-disney  @wabitham @just-your-local-history-nerd @dontrunintofirexoxo @daphmckinnon @poketin @luna-and-mars  @shimmeringsunsets @aries1708  @wabitham @agentphilindaisy @spkfrozenkindikids123 @jimmi-arts @snowmanmelting @loonysama  @hiptoff @loonysama @tare-disney @frozenwolftemplar  @true–north @holycolordreamertree @bigfrozensix

The weight of these revelations pressed heavily on Anna, but she forced herself to focus. Shaking her head, she tried to get rid of the disturbing thoughts and turned to focus on the nurse’s voice, hoping her recommendations would bring some clarity on how best to help her sister.

The kind woman had patiently explained everything they needed to know about the medical equipment and the rules inside Elsa’s room. Anna had listened attentively, right up until they stepped inside, when her attention was drawn to Elsa. She glanced at Kristoff, hoping he had paid more attention than she had, but to her consternation, he stood frozen at the threshold, his eyes fixed on Elsa's sleeping form.

"Is there anything else you need to know?" The nurse looked at Anna, waiting for any questions, but all she could offer was a shy smile.

“I'm sorry,” she said in a low voice. “It's never easy to see her like this.”

With her eyes closed, Elsa appeared to be a long way from recovery. Though her skin no longer had the sickly grey undertone from the weeks before, the contrast with the dark circles under her eyes and the bruises on her arms was impossible to ignore. The sharpness of her cheekbones stood out, showing a prominent weight loss, and every faint rise and fall of her chest under the loose hospital gown made her look thinner—smaller— than she’d ever seen her.

“No worries,” answered the woman with a sympathetic smile.

“I've got to be honest,” Anna said, trying to justify her lack of attention. “I was counting on his mother to be here to explain all these things to us…” She gestured towards Kristoff, whose eyes were still fixed on his sister.

Having left the room just before they entered the ward, Gerda had taken the opportunity to meet with Nielsen and her husband. Moving Elsa to a regular ward meant she would be more exposed, more vulnerable. And while Anna understood the risks involved couldn't be ignored, she had been hoping for Gerda to be with them for a few minutes before her meeting.

“Make yourselves comfortable and let me know if there’s anything you need. I’ll be in the office at the far end of the ward, near the entrance.”

With a gentle pat on Kristoff’s arm, the nurse asked for permission to walk out of the room, and only then he seemed to come out of his trance. Anna encouraged him to sit on the chair by the bed while she closed the door to give them some privacy.

Anna took a moment to scan the new room. It was slightly bigger than the one in the ICU, offering more space to move comfortably. The room felt cozier, not as sterile as the one in the ICU. A relatively large window on the left let in a soft, cool breeze, and a small couch in the corner was a nice addition, providing enough room for Gerda or Kai to join them.

Before Anna’s eyes reached the bed, Elsa began to stir and her eyes fluttered open. They were distant, just like she remembered from the last time she had seen her. Even though they were no longer glassy from the fever, they were now dulled and cautious—tired in a way that went beyond just physical exhaustion. Elsa’s fingers twitched slightly and Kristoff wasted no time and wrapped his hand in hers. He remained quiet, though, afraid one wrong word might disturb his sister.

Anna, on the other hand, took a couple of steps closer to the bed and greeted Elsa, her voice wavering only a bit. "Hey," she said softly, "It's us."

Elsa’s gaze drifted between Anna and Kristoff, once, then twice. Eyes blinked heavily as they tried to make sense of their presence. "Anna," she whispered, her voice raspy but still carrying a hint of familiarity. "Kristoff. You’re here.”

"Hi, sis.” Kristoff answered, his grip tightening ever so slightly on her hand. “We are. And we’re not going anywhere.”

His words seemed to calm Elsa, easing her breathing and relieving the tension in her body. She shifted slightly, attempting to find a more comfortable position. Despite the sharp pain flickering across her face, neither of them moved, allowing her to adjust at her own pace. Both Nielsen and Gerda had emphasised the importance of not pushing Elsa too hard and giving her the time she needed to regain her mobility.

Not feeling comfortable watching her sister struggle with the simplest of movements, Anna focused her attention on the light green blanket that covered her feet and adjusted it slightly. At every wince, she felt her heart tighten painfully, barely standing the feeling of impotence for not being able to help her.

“Does it hurt too much?” she asked softly.

Once Elsa rested her back and adjusted her injured arm, she offered a weak smile. The one they knew she used when she was lying. “It’s fine.”

Kristoff exhaled sharply through his nose. “Fine? Elsa, you almost—”

“Do you know what happened?” Anna interrupted, not before sending Kristoff a warning glance. The last thing they needed was to overwhelm her so suddenly.

Elsa nodded. “Gerda told me what happened…” Pulling her hand from Kristoff’s grasp, she absentmindedly brushed her fingers over something under her gown, just above her chest. “So did Marshmallow.”

A brief flicker of pain crossed Kristoff’s eyes, but he pushed the feeling aside. “You shouldn’t have let it get this bad,” he said under his breath.

“I never thought it would get this bad,” Elsa murmured, her eyes focusing on her injured hand. “It didn’t—.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Kristoff shot back, sharper than he intended, making both Anna and Elsa flinch. “Your hand must’ve been throbbing with pain for days.”

The guilt on Elsa’s face was immediate, and she made an effort not to meet his gaze. “I didn’t want to be a burden,” she admitted, her voice so low Anna could barely hear her from where she was standing.

“That’s what scares me,” Kristoff said quietly, the anger draining into something much softer and sadder. “That after everything you’ve been through, you keep insisting on facing everything on your own.”

Anna placed a hand on Kristoff’s shoulder, giving him a silent plea to ease up. She could see Elsa shutting down, retreating ever so slightly into a guarded shell. “Kristoff,” she said gently, wanting to put a stop to it as soon as possible. “She’s here.”

Kristoff rubbed a hand over his face, nodding as he fought to keep his composure.

Elsa refused to meet their eyes but still muttered a faint, “I’m sorry.”

In a swift movement, Kristoff wrapped his arms around his sister, forgetting for a moment about all the recommendations given . “Sorry,” he said, his throat constricting. “I— I was so afraid.”

Anna settled on the edge of the bed, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth when she noticed Elsa wrapping an arm around her brother’s shoulders. Elsa’s hand was trembling slightly, but she managed to tighten her fist on his cotton jacket, pulling him closer.

"Afraid doesn’t quite describe it,” Anna admitted as she caressed Elsa’s leg over the blanket.

She tried not to grimace at how thin her sister’s shin felt to the touch, and once again Anna’s chest tightened, concern about Elsa’s recovery washing over her. “Do you feel okay? I mean, I know ‘okay’ is a long way off, but… how are you feeling?"

Elsa let go of her brother and Kristoff understood it was best not to hold on too long and give her some space. Elsa’s lips pressed together in thought as she tried to come up with the right words.

“I don’t know,” she finally said. “I’m tired, and it still hurts to move. But beyond that... It's like everything is muted.”

Anna’s brows knitted together in worry. “Muted?”

She tugged at her bandages, lost in thought for a long moment. “Like I’m not quite here.”

“Your body’s been through a lot. It’s normal for things to feel strange for a while.” Unsure of what else to say, she squeezed her sister’s knee reassuringly.

There was a long silence where Elsa kept toying around with the bandages, too absorbed into her own thoughts to notice the worried glances between the couple.

Kristoff cleared his throat, drawing her sister back to the present. “Is there anything you need? To make things easier, I mean.”

Her gaze met his, wavering with uncertainty. “I'd like to go home.”

Kristoff sat back with a sigh, as if he had known the request was coming. “Elsa, you’re still healing…”

“It’ll be a while until you can leave the hospital, Elsa. I’m sorry.” Anna explained, helping Kristoff deliver the bad news. “Is there anything else?”

Leaning back against the pillow, Elsa looked out the window, her eyes fixed on the clouds washed with the copper sunlight of the evening. “Can you stay then?”

Anna smiled softly. “Of course.”

---

The breeze from the window grew colder as daylight faded. Night came faster than Anna expected; and even though Elsa had spent most of the time drifting in and out of light sleep, Anna couldn’t bear the thought of the visiting hours to be over.

She was grateful Marshall was running late that evening. He hadn’t shown up at eight like he usually did, and Anna suspected he was in the same meeting Kristoff had been called to half an hour before.

There were moments when she felt like she should be part of those meetings. Sometimes she wanted—needed—to know what the rest of the family was agreeing to do with Elsa’s recovery and her safety. But then on times like this, she was relieved she wasn’t needed every minute, like Gerda, Kai, or even Kristoff.

Sitting by her sister’s side felt like the only right place to be, even when they weren’t saying much, and Elsa seemed distant. The more time Anna spent with her sister, the more she realized how much she had missed her during those weeks. Being there with her, keeping her company, was enough.

Some minutes went by in silence until the door creaked open softly and Marshall walked into the room. He was still wearing the same pale cable-knit jumper he had been wearing ever since the nights grew colder, and Anna couldn’t help wondering if he’d gone back to his place at all since Elsa had fallen ill. He paused just beyond the threshold, his usually stoic face softening the moment he noticed Elsa on the bed, still awake.

“Els,” he greeted, his voice carrying a carefree undertone Anna hadn’t heard from him in weeks. “I’m glad to see you have company.”

He smiled and offered Anna a brief nod before closing the door and making his way to the other side of the bed.

“I’m sorry for being late today,” he said as he carefully sat on the edge of the bed. Absent-mindedly tucking a strand of Elsa’s hair behind her ear, he continued asking her about her day and the way she felt.

The motion was effortless, like something he had done a hundred times before and it caught Anna off guard. What surprised her the most was seeing Elsa barely react to the gesture. Her sister seemed unbothered, completely at ease with his touch, and Anna’s early worries washed away for a brief moment. Perhaps Elsa wasn’t completely withdrawn and closed off as she had feared.

Anna felt a pang of jealousy for a short moment. She hadn’t mentioned her injured hand itching, nor the bandages being uncomfortably tight around her hand during the afternoon. The same way she hadn’t admitted feeling nauseous either. However, she quickly pushed it aside, feeling good that Elsa was willingly opening up—if only slightly—and sharing a bit more of the way she felt.

She knew it was a matter of time until things went back to the way they were before. It would take Elsa a while, but she was certain she’d start opening up to her as well. She couldn't ignore Marshall had been a constant presence in Elsa’s life for the last few weeks after all. He had probably seen her at her worst already. Admitting feeling nauseous now was probably just a small part of everything he had witnessed.

Once their conversation was over, Anna asked Marshall about her sister’s recovery and the things she had to keep an eye on. He had only begun to answer her question when the door opened wide. A woman in her early fifties with a round, motherly figure, bustled into, surprising the three of them.

“No sitting on the bed.” Her voice filled every corner of the room, forcing Marshall to his feet in an instant.

Her warm, expressive eyes gave her an air of familiarity. While her posture and demeanour, on the other hand, gave her an air of authority. Of someone who had spent years mastering the chaos inside the wards and was best not to challenge.

Realization didn’t take long to wash over Marshall when he turned around. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off before he could say a word.

“If it ain't Marshy himself,” she said loudly, wasting no time in trying to embarrass him. “I didn't believe Frida when she told me the man looking after this young lady was you.”

“Ingrid?” he asked, taken aback by her presence.

“So you do remember me,” she said, closing the door. “I didn't expect you to visit us at the hospital after everything that happened, but you could've called, don’t you think?” Turning to Anna she smiled mischievously before she continued. “I know spending time with beautiful young girls is more appealing, but it wouldn’t hurt to invite an old lady out for a coffee sometime.”

He rolled his eyes and tried to ignore her comments, but Anna could see a faint flush creeping up his neck. Going straight to what concerned him, he asked, “What are you doing here?” 

“What do you think?” she asked with a snicker. Turning to Anna once again, she looked as if she was looking for confirmation. “Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, is he?”

This time Anna couldn’t suppress her laugh and she looked down as not to laugh in Marshall’s face.

“I meant in this room.”

Anna could hear the annoyance in his voice, though he remained calm as if the woman’s remarks were nothing new. Ingrid ignored his question and walked to a small table, placed a few items on it, and only then turned to Marshall. She stood in front of him and raised an arm to reach his face. “Look at you. The mountain has been rough on your skin. And you keep that filthy beard. Such a handsome boy you were once.” She then patted his face with a familiarity that surprised Anna and moved to the side to continue with her tasks.

“Ingrid,” Marshall repeated her name, begging for her to answer his question.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking what you're doing here?” She smirked. “Though I think I already know the answer.” She glanced at Elsa and then sent a wink to Anna.

“I… It’s not—” He stuttered, struggling to hide his embarrassment. “Could you answer the question?

“This is my ward. You better get used to seeing me around here,” she finally said firmly. Moving to the foot of the bed she picked up the clipboard and took notes on a small notepad. She then got closer to Elsa and shooed Marshall away from the bed. “Move. Let me do my job.”

Her expression softened when her eyes met Elsa’s. “There's no need for you to be so tense, dear. I’ll be out of here in a blink.”

Anna smiled, relieved to see Ingrid do her job with a gentleness she hadn’t shown before. She asked Elsa a few questions, checked her blood pressure, oxygen levels and temperature. She then tried moving Elsa’s left hand to inspect the wound, but Elsa pulled her hand away from the nurse.

“Let me help you,” Marshall said without hesitation, taking her place and asking Elsa to let them see her hand. He carefully unwrapped the bandages and allowed Ingrid to assess the wound.

“She mentioned the bandages were too tight.” Anna mentioned. Elsa hadn’t complained about them to her in particular, but she felt it was worth letting the nurse know.

Curiosity got the best of Anna, and she stood up to take a closer look at Elsa’s injured hand. Two jagged scars were visible. A long one ran along the palm, extending into her forearm where the doctors had worked to repair the tissue. The other, smaller, cut diagonally across her palm, from her thumb toward her little finger. The skin around the wound was red and slightly swollen, as if her body was still fighting the last remnants of the infection. There were still a few faint patches of bruising along the edges, slowly fading.

Elsa’s fingers moved stiffly, reluctant to bend too far, but only a small tremor of discomfort betrayed her surprisingly calm exterior. Once Marshall had taken the nurse’s place, cradling her hand gently, her reluctance disappeared. Though she nearly glanced at her wound before she turned her gaze elsewhere. Her expression was distant as if she had become reluctantly accustomed to the intrusive visits and her body’s limitations. Yet, Anna could see a deep dejection in her eyes. Something that, despite everything Elsa had lived through, hadn’t been there before. It made her fear that what they mistook for calmness was, in fact, a resignation too heavy to bear.

With a heavy heart, Anna sat back down and silently hoped for the nurse to finish her round soon. All she wanted was Elsa to be left alone for the night. She couldn’t bring herself to be angry with the medical staff for doing their job, but her heart ached for her sister regardless.

Before leaving, Ingrid made another sarcastic remark about Marshall’s diligent work and left them on their own. The three of them remained quiet for a long time, after that. Each preoccupied with their own concerns: Marshall remained by the door, resting his back on a wall with his arms crossed. Anna stayed where she was, sitting by Elsa’s bed, quietly allowing the early uneasiness to take over while she looked at Elsa, who remained in her own world.

A moment later, Frida, the nurse who had accompanied Elsa from the very beginning, stopped by. She greeted them with a smile and administered Elsa the last dose of medicine for the day. She reminded Anna visit hours were over at ten and made sure to check if Marshall was the one staying for the night. When he nodded, she wrote it down and she told him he’d be able to find her in the small office near the entrance.

Anna thought it was odd for more than one nurse to show up in such a short time span, but she didn’t question it. Instead she made sure to keep Elsa company, talking about the simplest things she could come up with until the medicine ran its course and she began to drift off to sleep.

It didn’t take long for Elsa to fall asleep, and only then Anna dared ask Marshall about the nurse who had single-handedly made a fool out of him.

“Ingrid seems lively,” she said, hoping the mountaineer would share a bit of his life with her.

“She shouldn’t be here,” he said, still absorbed in his thoughts. 

He rummaged through his jeans pockets until he found a ragged piece of paper and sat down on the small couch with a tired sigh.

Anna made sure Elsa was fast asleep before she got closer. “What?”

“She isn’t on this list.” He handed the folded paper to Anna. “Nielsen never mentioned her name either.”

“What do you mean?” Anna paid a quick look at the short list of names written on the paper. Four nurses and two doctors. Six people in total and none of them was Ingrid. “I thought you knew her.”

“I do. We used to work together.” he said, taking the list off her hand and folding it once again. “It doesn’t change the fact she shouldn’t be here.”

Looking over her shoulder, Anna made sure Elsa hadn’t woken up. She sat down next to Marshall and asked in a low voice. “You don’t trust her?”

“It’s not that…” He looked at the closed door, his brows knitting together. “She’s a dedicated nurse. She instructed me and guided me when I was just starting as a paramedic.”

“Could it be that Nielsen trusts that Elsa's powers won’t act up?” She whispered. “Perhaps these people know about her powers.” She pointed at the folded piece of paper. “While the rest of the staff will simply continue their work as if she was just another patient.”

“I don’t know.” He breathed out tiredly, no remnants of his originally calm demeanour left. “I’ll have to ask Nielsen about it.”

Anna’s gaze dropped to the floor, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her sleeves. The unfairness of it all consumed her suddenly. The uncertainty about Elsa’s safety piled up with the concerns about her health and the way she dealt with recovery. It all felt like too much to hold and she could barely hold back the tears welling in her eyes.

The door creaked open for the third time in the last hour, and this time Gerda stepped into the room. Anna quickly blinked the tears away but allowed Marshall to answer whatever questions her mother-in-law had. They were mostly health related and she didn’t suspect the way she was feeling.

To Anna’s surprise, Marshall made sure not to mention Ingrid nor his concerns, and instead talked to Gerda calmly as if things were running its course smoothly. It was clear he was trying to reassure Gerda she could go home to rest.

With a smile she thanked them both and walked to Elsa’s bed. Placing a hand on her forehead, she brushed a few stray strands of hair before she leaned down to kiss her sleeping daughter goodbye. She quietly promised to return in the morning and then made her way towards the door. Only then, she turned to Anna.

“It’s almost ten, dear. You can come back with us in the morning if you’d like.”

Anna nodded. She picked her jacket and sent her sister one last look before she left the room in silence.

---

Taking up Gerda’s offer, Anna returned to the hospital the following morning. Most of the morning, she stayed with her mother-in-law keeping Elsa company. Once again, Elsa drifted in and out of sleep, barely present, and Anna didn’t need a medical degree to see that the drugs kept her sister trapped in constant lethargy—yet she never looked truly rested.

Anna then left the hospital at midday and ran errands for Gerda during the early afternoon in an attempt to ease the woman’s load. Day by day, Anna noticed that despite Elsa's slow recovery, Gerda seemed more tired, and she worried that the pressure would finally break her before Elsa was released from the hospital.

When she returned to the hospital, she was surprised to hear an unusual voice coming from her sister’s room.

“Take it slow, Elsa. Just one step at a time.”

It called her attention, and so she stopped on her tracks right outside the door. She shifted the bag in her arm and slowly pushed the door open. She tilted her head and discreetly scanned the room. Gerda was standing by the bed keeping a steadying hand on Elsa’s back as she made an effort to stand on her own.

At first, Anna could barely contain her happiness at seeing Elsa standing on her own after so long. Though the initial excitement slowly faded when Anna noticed the tension in Elsa’s body and the stiffness of her posture. She was barely upright, gripping the rail of the hospital bed for support, her knuckles white with effort as she tried in vain to stop her legs from trembling.

A rehabilitation doctor stood close to the bed, but far enough to give Elsa space to take a few tentative steps. He encouraged her to try moving her feet, and despite the pain written all over her face, she still obeyed. She slid a foot forward, in a weak unsteady step, and then the other. A sharp breath caught in her throat at the motion, but she refused to stop.

From where she was standing, Anna could see Elsa’s legs shaking and her balance slipping, but before she could fall, Gerda reacted instinctively and caught her daughter in her arms.

Elsa collapsed against her, breathing heavily. For a moment, it seemed like she might pull away as soon as she regained her footing. But something shifted. Before Gerda could ask if she was okay, Elsa wrapped her arms around her, gripping her mother’s shirt like a lifeline.

Gerda’s eyes widened for a split second before softening. She held her daughter close, stroking her back in slow, soothing circles. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.”

From the doorway, Anna watched as her sister clung to her adoptive mother like never before. She swallowed hard, a vise tightening around her chest when she heard a muffled sob escape Elsa as she buried her face in her mother’s shoulder. Gerda held her tighter, whispering something too soft for Anna to hear.

After a minute, Elsa’s breathing steadied and slowly, hesitantly, she pulled back from Gerda’s embrace. Anna expected her to step away and retreat, as she so often did, but instead she adjusted her grip, her good hand holding onto Gerda’s forearm for support.

Gerda held her breath for just a second, but otherwise remained unaffected as she brushed the damp hair from Elsa’s forehead. “It’s going to be fine,” she murmured, a reassurance meant for them both.

Elsa lowered her gaze, letting go of Gerda’s arm as she nodded.

“That’s enough for today, Elsa.” The doctor spoke softly. “I agree with your mother, you did well.”

Elsa didn’t react at first, her eyes still focused on the floor between them, but as soon as the doctor called her name again, she blinked and shifted her weight slightly. Gerda reached for her, but Elsa had already started moving towards the bed.

Anna knew she was trying not to show it, but the pain still controlled every movement.

Gerda stepped forward, her arm outstretched. “Here, let me—”

“I’ve got it,” Elsa murmured, though there was no strength behind the words.

---

The moment Elsa’s legs gave out, warmth enveloped her. She hadn’t meant to collapse into Gerda, but her body refused to pull away. As soon as she felt the comfort of her arms, the familiar safety they provided, she realised how much she had missed her.

A lump formed in her throat and before she could stop herself, tears slipped down her face, burning hot against her cold skin.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Gerda whispered, her steady hands keeping her from crumbling. “You’re doing so well.”

Elsa squeezed her eyes shut as a sob escaped her. She wanted to believe Gerda, but her legs hurt, her ribs protested with each breath, and her stomach churned as the dizziness from the medication pressed into her mind. She could feel the weight of the exhaustion pulling at her limbs and she felt helpless.

Kristoff and Anna’s voices, telling her she couldn’t go home, echoed in her mind, and only now did she understand what they meant. She couldn’t go home. Not like this. And she was too tired to pretend otherwise.

Slowly, she loosened her grip and forced herself to steady herself. As she pulled back, her hand brushed against something under Gerda’s shirt. Elsa’s fingers hovered over it for a fraction of a second as her gaze flickered to Gerda’s forearm. And though her mother didn’t react, something in Elsa’s gut twisted.

She didn’t want to ask, as she wasn’t sure she could handle the answer. And so instead, she swallowed hard before she let go.

The doctor’s words barely registered at first. Her mind still caught on her spiralling thoughts. And by the time the man called her name again, she was already moving away from Gerda. The warmth of the embrace faded too quickly, and it made the hollow feeling inside almost unbearable. With a heavy sigh, she turned towards the bed.

She clenched her jaw, knowing it would take a lot of effort but she couldn’t risk it. Gerda moved beside her, ready to catch her again, but Elsa pushed herself forwards. “I’ve got it.” She said through gritted teeth, hoping it would convince her mother.

Each step sent a jolt of pain through her legs and lower back, and by the time she reached the bed, her throat felt tight and the burn in her eyes was almost unbearable. She lowered herself onto the mattress, trying to keep her movements controlled, but the moment she let go, her legs gave out completely.

Gerda’s hands supported her, and Elsa’s body tensed, resisting the touch. “Are you okay?” she asked, sensing her discomfort.

Elsa nodded. “I’m okay.”

Unsure of what else to do, Gerda helped her onto the bed, adjusting the pillows behind her. Her hand lingered near Elsa’s for a moment before she gave up and turned to the doctor.

They discussed things Elsa didn’t fully understand and she couldn’t help but wonder if it would make a difference if she did.

---

I’ve got to be honest and say I wasn’t entirely sure where I was going when I started writing this chapter. I originally planned for it to be one of those “transition” chapters, but as I tried to write it, all the ideas felt dull. That’s when I allowed myself to write whatever I wanted to read and this happened.

Elsa finding out was not supposed to happen. For the longest time I planned to simply let it slip. But here she is, barely standing and putting up a fight against me. Also, Ingrid wasn’t supposed to drag Marshal through the mud the way she did, but she wouldn’t stop. So I let her. I hope you like the chapter. Let me know what you think of it!

Also, two chapters in February, look at that. Blessed be the rain that forces me to stay inside and gives me inspiration.

-

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