AN: Relatively new to this fandom, but this plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone. I'm not even sure if there is a plot so to speak…Anyway, usual disclaimers apply. Frozen and all its affiliates belong to Disney. This is an eventual Elsanna fic which obviously means that it's femslash, and although set in a modern day timeframe AU, has incestual themes. If it's not your cup of tea, I'm sure you know where the back button is located. This is your last and final warning. In an unrelated side note, what is it with me and homecoming fics? There's a certain romantic notion to it I guess. Reunions.

Chapter One: Wednesday/Day One

The seat holds little comfort, even though it's spacious, heated, and leather. She shifts, looking again at the wide expanse of clouds in her peripherals. The sun's colors are just beginning to bleed in her surroundings, painting the sky in colors of a fading bruise. Sunset. Setting, disappearing faster than usual because of her trajectory.

2500 miles. That's how far she's traveling…rounded up. Of course she's not one to ever estimate or round anything up. 2448.3 miles. Four hours and fifteen minutes according to her itinerary. Again, a timeframe that's probably rounded up. Checking on her wristwatch, she finds that only an hour has elapsed, and she could control the shaking of her legs and the trembling of her heart about as much as she can control where this plane is taking her.

"Can I interest you on a drink?"

The voice forces her attention to the aisle, hazel eyes looking back at her in question. There is no warmth there; she can see past the professional courtesy wrapped in a too wide smile. An infinitesimal shake of the head later and her attention's back to the outside world, now painted in splotches of ink, indigo, and deep purple. Stars have just become prevalent, twinkling innocently on as her mind continues its never ending assault on her fatigued body. With nothing to do and confined in a flying death trap, what else can her overworked mind do but think while staring listlessly at her surroundings.

Has it really just been two hours since that dreaded phone call?

She sometimes wished that life, fate, whatever, could give an indication for when her world would implode. She wished it would give a fair warning, like an earthquake or a massive blackout…a thunderstorm…or, better yet, a snowstorm…in the middle of May in the heart of downtown LA. No. Instead it was a day like every other one that had bled before it. The sun had risen in the east, the smog already so thick and noticeable it was hardly worth noting. She had breakfast: a cup of Greek yogurt and a bowl of oatmeal topped with blueberries. She went to class. Had little to no social interaction because, hey, it really was shaping up to be an otherwise normal day. At the conclusion of class, with no plans and nowhere to really go, she had driven home. Again, this was normal. The first indication that it wouldn't be another average day was the constant, red bleats of her answering machine that greeted her upon her arrival.

"You have three new messages."

She doesn't carry a cellphone. She has one, but she doesn't carry it. No one knows the number to it, save two people…and she doesn't get calls or messages from them so often that it facilitates carrying said device. Whenever she has to jot a number down for some official looking paper, she'd always give her landline. If she wasn't home and it was important, they can always leave a message. Upon retrospect, she finds that it literally is only two people that know her cellphone number—even she has no clue what it is off the top of her head. In this day and age, she knows that's not normal…but then again, she's never met anyone who's ever been in self-imposed exile either. It seems there are many things about her that's archaic.

"This message is for Elsa Andersen. This is Jacob Greene of Populous. We've looked into your portfolio and we like what we see. We were hoping to schedule an interview for an internship here with possible hiring at its culmination. Give me a call at 415-653-3620 extension 3744. Thanks, and we look forward to speaking with you."

Beep.

"Hello, I'm Tom Schexneider of AECOM. Upon high recommendations from Professor Clemmens, we'd like to invite an Elsa Andersen for an interview in our internship program. I can't stress enough that this offer is rare and fleeting, so an answer is required within a small time frame. Please call me back at your earliest convenience and with an answer."

Beep.

By this time she had walked towards the sliding door of her balcony, one hand palming the smooth, cool glass. She hadn't stepped out, opting instead to stare at the familiar buildings around her, seeing nothing while her brain processed the small information from her messages. In between debating the pros and cons between two huge opportunities suddenly placed in her lap, came the third message.

"Hello? Miss…Miss Andersen? This is Kai. Kai Akers. The…butler. I'm not sure if you remember me, but…(heavy pause)…Th-there's…W-we—goddamnit!…(Shuffle, static, background noise)…I-I'm sorry—I apologize. I know I'm not making sense, but I need to speak with you. There's been an accident involving your parents and I can't speak candidly through a voicemail. Please. As quickly as you can, call me back. I'll be waiting."

She hadn't even noticed that she was standing at the foot of her phone until shaky fingers prodded the caller's ID button frenziedly. With one ear hot against the handheld and her mind tumbling down dangerous roads full of uncertainty and darkness, the couple seconds waiting for the phone to ring on a line she'd never called once since her stay here seemed to take an eternity.

"Hello? Miss Elsa?"

"What happened?"

There had never been an instance in her life when she'd been so weak that her knees had given out from under her. She'd always considered herself intelligent, independent, and above all, collected. She'd always been able to school her emotions, even as a child. In her teenage years this proved to be her lifeline. And now, as a venerable adult, it had become second nature. This surface Elsa is who she is to the general populace: peers and professors alike. Hard worker, yet aloof. Smart, but cold. Overachiever. Cyborg. Statue.

Everyone's personal favorite? Ice Queen. A title that said nothing and everything all at once.

If anyone had borne witness to her state that warm May afternoon—her knees scrunched against cold hard wood floors and fingers clutching desperately at her chest, her body bent with what looked like the world on her shoulders—there would be no doubt in the spectator's mind that Elsa Andersen, eldest daughter of Judge Alexander Andersen and Senator Helene Andersen, was indeed human. Not a cyborg. Not an emotionless statue. And certainly not made of ice.

Human, in that she can show emotion and shed tears. Not the silent ones made for movies and aesthetics, but the heart wrenching bawl that follows the worst news a child could hear about her parents.

She could only catch snippets even though the phone was so pressed up against her ears that if she weren't so numb from the sudden onslaught of information, she'd notice how much it was painfully digging into her skin.

Accident. Drunk Driver. Freeway. Too fast. Died even before the ambulance could get there. Booked the nearest flight. Delta. Leaves in forty minutes.

She wasn't sure how she was able to collect some semblance of control in her frenzied state. She managed to collect the cellphone she never used, pull a carry-on luggage that had collected so much dust from the back of her closet, and filled it to the brim with clothes and other necessities. It took no less than ten minutes with another two spent in the bathroom looking at her haggard reflection in the mirror and splashing cold water in her face, hoping that this small gesture would tether her.

In that moment, with her light blue eyes staring morosely and resolutely back at her, she came upon the inevitable truth: she had wasted five years. Five years of holing up in the other side of the country, refusing to see them regardless of the amount of pleas that came from them both. Holiday breaks came and went. Birthdays. Christmases. New Years. Bleeding into one another in the form of just another day.

In a few years time would she still be able to remember what they looked like? Because time does that…chip away at every foundation slowly, but surely. She closed her eyes, concentrated, and relief floods her in the way that, yes, she's still able to see at least her father…and easily at that.

He's standing at the exact same spot she had been previously: the foot of the glass sliding door prior to the balcony. Instead of looking outwards, he was looking at her, his hands casually in his trouser pockets and smiling wistfully. His neat hair was combed to the side in its usual fashion with not a single strand in disarray, his mustache perfectly trimmed. The beige suit that he wore fit his tailored body, enveloping a strong physique that she had always come to expect from the head figure of her family. The sun is making a perfect backdrop behind him, illuminating his silhouette in blinding orange and yellow rays, and his eyes…would be just as bright.

"You're all moved in. I hope the transition wasn't so bad. The place looks nice. Did you decorate it yourself? It seems to go hand in hand…architecture and interior design. Maybe that's why you have a knack for it. Speaking of which…Anna did her senior project on interior design. Remember your senior project? Your dream home? She added to it. Took your 3-D model, plugged it in a computer, and designed every room to be chic and modern. She'll be graduating…in a week. Would…would it be possible for you to come home to see its fruition? I'm sure Anna would love to see you."

Five years…And now, because of a circumstance that she would give anything to never go through, she'll be heading back…home. To put two people that she loved wholeheartedly to rest. To be sure all their wishes remained intact and achieved. To face her demons. To do the one thing her father had been asking for since her self-imposed exile.

"Come home."

The crackle of static forces her attention to the space above her before the disembodied voice that proceeds it.

"Ladies and gentlemen we're fifteen minutes from JFK International Airport. At this time we'd like for all passengers to be seated and for all seats to remain in the upright position as we begin making our descent. I would also like to remind everyone to keep your safety belts on for the remainder of our flight and to keep all electronics turned off until we've made a complete stop. It is a cloudy fifty-seven degrees in New York tonight, the perfect weather for sightseeing for those coming by to visit. For those staying permanently, welcome home. Thank you for flying Delta Airlines. We hope to see you again real soon."

Home. A four letter word she'd chosen to give up long ago. They say home is where your heart is, and they're absolutely right.

In the five years that she had stayed in her condo, she's never called it home. It was a place with precise, almost clinical decoration and no personal touches—where everything had a use and if it didn't, it would be discarded without a second thought. It was nothing more than a roof on top of her head—walls of an enclosed space. Prettier than a prison, but holds the same amount of freedom. None. The real prison is in her head.

Her stomach makes a lurch as the plane descends not long after the announcement. It has nothing to do with being air sick, she knows that much. No, this anxiety is riddled with the thoughts of home.

It would be naive to think that everything's still the same. She's sure not a lot's changed in regards to what the house looked like. The same black gated fence will greet her. Beyond the courtyard, the flower bushes, trees, and gardens, she's sure the same red brick estate in all its tall, imposing glory will be just as she remembers it. It would only make sense that it would…Her definition of home never was a place.

She swallows the uncomfortable feeling in her throat just as the plane rattled and shook, meeting the solid ground roughly.

In thirty minutes—maybe less, she'll finally see her little sister again.

Anna.

Brighter than the sun…Her gravitational pull…Her red string of fate.

She's been in an impasse for the last five years. She was thinking it would be longer. So much longer. Forever. This meeting, regardless of circumstance, is one she would never be ready for—didn't think she'd need to get ready for. She had planned it so that she could go her entire life without seeing her sister again…despite of the fact that this one action is all she could ever want.

To see her again…to be in the same room, the same house, the same space…She is vastly unprepared. And this time there'd be no mom or dad to fall back into.

The sharp click of her neighbor's seatbelt takes her out of her millionth reverie of the day and she follows suit. Her body feels heavy, taut, yet the need to stretch doesn't enter her wracking mind; too many thoughts bouncing around for something so menial as bodily discomfort.

She follows the masses after getting her one, small carry-on, Kai's words of being there to pick her up at the gate forefront in her already muddled mind. She feels she should hurry, but…what's the use?

They're already dead…It's not as if they can't wait.

Her trepidation grows with each step taken, her mind going into overdrive. It's no longer suffused only with sadness and grief. There's an addition of gnawing anxiety that she can't shake off.

What would she say? How could she explain her disappearance within the last five years? How do you justify the heartache of this magnitude to the one person that matters the world to you without sounding callous, cold, and indifferent?

She could only be glad of small favors. There's still time to wrack her brain of different possibilities of the dreaded reunion during the car ride to the estate. Twenty minutes, give or take a few minutes. She'd be able to school her features and come up with a game plan in that time, right? She'd have to. Never mind that four plus hours in the flying deathtrap didn't help at all…

She can't let Anna know.

"Elsa?"

Nothing could freeze her steps faster than hearing that familiar voice. The pronounced lump in her throat is back, magnified to the point where she can't breathe and her heartbeat is thumping so wildly against her ears in erratic rushes she's surprised no one else can hear it.

She feels like laughing mirthlessly at her situation. Small favors? No, not for her. Of course not. God could care less for giving small favors to wretched creatures like her…

Nausea swims towards her muddled mind as she finally gathers enough strength to look up, and in the time span of only a couple of seconds her eyes have already raked over the familiar figure before her, devouring every bit of information and assimilating them, filing them in her head to be dissected and pored over later.

Old habits die hard.

She's taller now, is the first thought that comes unbidden. When had that happened? But of course, Anna had only been fifteen when she left for college—hardly at the peak of growth. Elsa could see that their height difference stands to mere inches, maybe two or three to her favor. Burnish copper plaits are done in twin braids, the way the blonde had always preferred them. She can still remember countless nights in which they'd stayed in either one of their bedrooms, a random movie playing in the background while they had done each other's hairs—a pair of near matching braids, one for Elsa, always two for Anna.

The younger girl had filled out nicely, sporting fitted denims upon shapely legs and a light green blouse that accentuated her eyes.

The blonde finds that this is probably what she misses the most.

In a lot of aspects, they seem to be polar opposites since the very beginning. While Elsa had been closed off and aloof as a child, Anna seemed to make up for it with her bright, happy nature. The younger of the two had always worn her heart on her sleeve, her expressive eyes the only indication anyone would need of her state of mind.

Those same eyes are looking back at her now, apprehensiveness around their edges. She had obviously been crying, puffs of redness and a smatter of freckles peaking out from ill-disguised makeup. But more than anything she looks nervous, fidgeting in the same spot as her fingers tangled against each other in front of her in a gesture that can only be interpreted as anxiety.

Elsa would know. That's her trademark stance.

The blonde inadvertently mirrors her sister's anxiety, clutching her carry-on strap upon her shoulder like a lifeline, and only when Anna's stare moves from her eyes to her bag and then sheepishly down to the floor does she realize her mind had carried her so far away that she's pretty sure at least five minutes has elapsed since the red head had gathered her attention.

"Hello," she finally greets, and inwardly winces at the gravelly sound of her voice.

That's usually what happens to it when it isn't used in a prolonged period. She clears her throat, hoping, wishing it would give her some semblance of control. But the next step seems the hardest. What's the proper decorum after a greeting? A hug seems right under normal circumstances, but…reworded…what's the proper decorum for two sisters who hasn't spoken in five years?

Indecision warred in her mind until Anna, gracious, sweet loving Anna decides for the both of them. The red head crosses the menial five feet separating them and wordlessly lifts the carry on off her shoulder, dropping it carelessly on the floor beside her where it makes a pitiable thump. Not another second passes and she's engulfed in a tight hug, strong arms enveloping her shoulders in an almost painful manner that she couldn't feel at all.

Only one thought crosses her mind.

Home. This is what home feels like. She'd forgotten how warm and secure it felt.

Her own hands automatically wrap themselves around a small, smooth waist, her cheeks finding solace on a strong shoulder. Anna smells exactly as she remembers: sunshine, hints of powdered cinnamon, and the same baby lotion she's used since Elsa could remember.

And the blonde hates how wonderful it all feels. How her body, the traitorous, one-track-mind, hormonal vessel that it is could just not get over how soft and supple the smaller girl feels in her arms. Why couldn't this just be a regular reunion where she's not berating herself of how wrong everything feels? Why can't she just think like…a sister?

This thought is what takes her into action. She steps out of the hug first, keeping in mind to not push the red head away even though her brain keeps sending impulses for her to do so. Instead, she keeps Anna at a literal arm's length, her own hands carding over the same waist and giving the younger woman what seems to be an appraising look, even though she had just done so upon first contact.

"You're so tall now." It's the first thing that comes to mind, therefore it's the first thing that slips out.

Mirth dances through her sister's eyes followed by a loud, carefree laugh. She missed that. Again, another thing to note and remember. When Anna laughed, it would be the most genuine of sounds. There's no hidden agenda, no polite stifled chuckle. Her laughter is the infectious kind, and for what seems like forever, Elsa can feel her lips curving up on their own. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this…free.

Anna nods in playful agreement. "Yep…almost as tall as you."

Indeed…

"Kai's waiting in the parking lot," the smaller girl's smile instantly drops, giving her a searching look. "What…has he told you?"

She leans towards the ground and grabs Elsa's bag, lugging it over her right shoulder and casually ignoring the disagreeing sound the elder sister makes at the action. The blonde decides to let it be and begins walking beside her, peripherals trained at the younger girl who is now busy navigating their way out of the still busy airport.

"I caught…snippets," she answers, praying for the familiar burn in the back of her eyes and the lump in her throat to recede. A mere recollection from her conversation with the butler has brought the same spiking emotions back. "Car accident…in the freeway."

"Yeah…"

She could barely hear the soft reply from the general buzz of their surroundings, but she can feel the hidden emotion laced in there.

They walk wordlessly to the exit thereafter, the blonde's mind elsewhere and her younger sister's probably in the same confusing place. She follows the red head to the car, a familiar black sedan parked off to the side and the just as familiar butler beside it.

He scurries towards them as soon as he spots them, greeting her with a strained, but soft smile while taking the bag off of Anna's shoulders and carrying it at his side.

He looks very similar from the day she last saw him, down to the same black tuxedo dinner jacket he dons at a daily basis in the Andersen estate. His hair, although still the same thick brown color, has receded as far back as it could go, but the sides are so meticulously combed over with what looks like absolute care that Elsa knows she'd never make a comment about it out loud.

Anna opens the door to the back of the car just as he's putting her small luggage in the trunk, gesturing for her to go in first. She does without question, the smell changing from cool night air pollution to fresh leather as she situates herself to the leftmost spot next to the window. The red head comes in shortly after, surprising the blonde by taking the middle seat and wordlessly clicking her seatbelt in place.

The car rocks again as Kai makes his way to the driver's seat and looks at them from the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkling at a nostalgic scene.

Unfortunately for all of them, the night isn't quite over yet, and they had just one more errand to run before retiring to the Andersen Estate for the evening, hopefully to get enough rest for a tomorrow that's promising to be just as difficult. As soon as Elsa's seatbelt is properly in place he turns his indicators on, merging into the busy New York City traffic as soon as it's safe to do so.

One whole minute into the car ride and Elsa's fidgeting. She tried to put a stop to it during the thirty second mark when she noticed just how painful her fingernail had started scratching against her cold open palm, but it was all but impossible. It seemed to be an autonomic response like breathing and blinking; she could put a stop to it, but it would continue onwards when her attention is pulled elsewhere.

Approximately three minutes in (not that she was counting), she hears a small sigh to her right and before she can question it, the red head is already grabbing her hand, first encompassing the length of it with hers so that every digit is touching and then casually swiping it to the side, before gripping it fiercely.

Anna's hands are just as cold, but they're soft and lovely, and she has to remind her heart to slow down…please, before the younger girl can hear its excited, neurotic beating.

She gives back a reassuring, firm grip,before gazing into turquoise orbs that are, surprisingly enough, staring at their joined hands, giving it such a concentrated look that it would seem it holds all of life's answers.

"Anna?" she calls, wanting to solve the mystery etched in her sister's visage.

"We're heading to the hospital morgue," she answers softly, her attention still towards their hands.

The unexpected statement freezes the older girl's bones, her back standing even straighter and her grip worsening. Anna's hold only strengthens.

"They had their IDs on them," the red head continues to explain, her voice becoming smaller and smaller by the minute. "But the hospital wants to be perfectly sure. They phoned while you were already in the air, asking for the next of kin for positive ID. I could've done it alone, but…"

She didn't let the younger girl finish. Despite the heavy protest in her mind to never let the strong hand pried against hers go, she does, twisting her body towards her sister's and pulling the smaller body into hers.

Anna easily caves in, arms coming around her waist and helpless fingers clutching at the back of her blouse. Elsa holds her firmly in place, a trembling hand rubbing a bent back and pepper kisses framing now unkempt, copper locks. It's in this forlorn state that the sobs begin, first silent for the sake of pride, face, or whatever useless, unimportant reason, then transforms into unabashed wails.

She tells the younger girl to let it out, willing her own emotions to remain placid even as her heart wrenched painfully in her chest, beating in tandem to her sister's uncontrolled breaths and heavy cries. One of them has to be strong right now, and if it was up to her, it would never be Anna for the two of them. Not if she has any say in it.

The car rumbles onwards, Kai keeping his silent vigil since the very beginning. And even though their position is uncomfortable at best, Elsa wouldn't trade the feeling of protecting her younger sister for the world. Let everyone burn. If Anna was safe, it was enough for her.

She loses track of how long they maintain their position, her hands still ghosting over the smaller girl's hair and back in random rubs. She only begins to draw back when Anna retreats first, her concern flaring upon finally seeing the defeated countenance upon a tear tracked visage. Light green eyes gaze back at her, the glitter of blue flecks upon the irises dull, tired, defeated. Sadness and desperation openly shown without a single word uttered. Another crystalline tear begins its descent, and Elsa catches it automatically, her thumb swiping over a high cheekbone and her hand folding against a smooth visage.

Her heart flutters at seeing the beginnings of calm take over her the smaller girl's countenance—at the way blue-green eyes close in near tranquility. She shouldn't love the way her breath catches as soon as her sister's hand fold over her own. Shouldn't feel elation when those same eyes open to show her vulnerability, longing, hope…

Love.

"I miss you, Elsa."

The declaration, though quiet and soft, is more than enough to break the invisible shell around them. She pulls her hand back, too fast, too roughly, and she has to look away because she doesn't want to see the pain her action has already caused her sister. She folds her hand against her chest, her attention locked to no particular point of her left peripheral. She doesn't have to see Anna's face to guess the expression marred there. She can clearly see it burning in the back of her lids: confusion, depression, disbelief. Anger?

"What—

The car comes to a well-timed stop and in what looks like one flowing move, Elsa clicks her safety belt off, opens the car door, and scrambles out of the vehicle's suffocating confines. Her heart thudded in uneven beats against her ears, sending her emotions in disarray. Pinching her fingers upon throbbing temples, she only realizes after another few seconds how rash and rude her actions must've looked.

And, Anna…

She whips her body back towards the car just as her sister's coming out, an apology close to streaming out of her lips, but regret chokes her into silence as the younger girl only stands before her, body language speaking in confusion and wariness and unable to meet her stare.

"A…Anna," she calls, hating the desperation coating her voice—hating herself even more when the red head still isn't able to look into her eyes.

This standstill lasts only a minute before the younger of the two sighs, almost imperceptibly, and finally looks up at her again, the expression there now devoid of emotion. It's so unnatural that it sends a new wave of panic coursing through the blonde, wishing in futility, that she could go back…five minutes—one!

Why is it so impossible for her to just…act human? Why must everything have a double meaning? One would think consolation caused by disparity would be utmost in her mind, but her useless brain—

The dull throb in her temples double, sending all her patience for her own self into the wind.

Be her sister, a condescending voice filters in her ears. Stop thinking about yourself, be human for once, and be the older sister she deserves.

The blonde unfastens the balled fist her right hand had curled into and places it into the space between her and her sister, disregarding the indents left by her nails against her palm. Does she mean it as a peace offering? A gesture? She isn't quiet sure herself.

"I'm sorry," she manages to say and, to her relief, this elicits a fraction of emotion in those suddenly dull turquoise eyes. She trudges forward. "I'm not…I'm not currently here. My body is…my mind is elsewhere" Make sense. Stop babbling. She shakes her head to the side in hopes of thinking even clearer—trying to catch the right words, berating herself when she can't gather them fast enough. "I'm sorry if I seem unreadable…and random. I'm not myself—

She cuts herself off as Anna's fingers interlock with hers and relief bubbles out from her chest when the smaller girl gives her a reassuring, albeit sad smile.

"I think I know how you feel," the red head says softly, her gaze drifting towards the imposing, grey hospital building.

Elsa tightens her grip against her sister's just as Kai steps out of the car, his eyes flittering between the two of them worriedly.

"I would be honored to come with the two of you, if you'd have me," he says softly, his eyes deferring to the ground, and it's this selflessness he's genuinely and easily showing that reminds Elsa why her father kept the old man in such high esteem.

She gives him a grateful smile, but shakes her head. She's already come to the quick and final decision that this responsibility won't fall to anyone, but her.

"I appreciate the gesture Kai, but I don't think this is an experience that should be shared."

He nods understandingly, giving her a helpless smile, before heading back in the car, shutting the door softly behind him.

Her attention falls back to her sister, understanding dawning on the red head's countenance before Elsa could even speak.

"No."

"Anna—

"No!"

She sighs and tightens her grip in their intertwined hands, boring her eyes through heated green-blue orbs.

"I'm not letting you go in there without me." And as if to prove her point, the smaller girl tightens her end of the handhold even firmer, daring with her eyes for Elsa to say otherwise.

The blonde could only shake her head. "Anna, what we're going to see in there…we won't be able to forget." She pauses momentarily to let the thought sink in, finding small solace when she sees understanding cross her sister's face. "This will be the lasting memory of mom and dad that we'll ever have. I don't want yours to be tainted."

"And what? It's fair that yours will?"

She nods her head at what sounds like a petulant reply. "If I have to choose between your happiness and mine, I choose yours."

She can see that her sincere words have caught the smaller girl unaware, and she thinks it might be the end of the conversation, but being away from Anna for five years hasn't done her any favors—it seems she's forgotten just how persuasive the red head can be upon any and all circumstances.

"What makes you think I'll be happy if you won't be?"

A swift reply she means to release dissolves in her throat instead. In just one sentence the tables have vastly turned.

Her sister matches her stare evenly, blue-green eyes pleading. "When I got the call…for the ID, I knew there'd be no way in hell I could do it alone. And it wasn't just a matter of not having someone there. Please understand that. I want to see them. I want to see with my own eyes so that I can't delude myself into thinking this is just one big nightmare that I can wake up from. You're not doing me any favors by shielding me from this. If you haven't noticed…I'm a big girl now. I can handle my own burdens. And I can share yours…if you'd just let me." She breathes deeply, eyes deferring back to the ground. "Please don't be a martyr. Don't try and think you can do this by yourself. I waited so that we can face this together. I can't do it without you. I just wish…you'd need me too."

Words have officially left Elsa. What could she say as a possible rebuttal to that? It didn't matter. Her heart had lodged itself into her throat. She could hardly breathe let alone talk.

Anna looks back up and takes her growing silence for cooperation, tugging her in the direction of the dimly lit building. She could only follow wordlessly, wondering when her little sister had grown up into a mature, young woman.

O—O

She couldn't sleep.

Whenever she closes her eyes, the picture of two barely decipherable bodies marred with cuts, contusions, bruises—mangled beyond belief and repair, flashes through her mind.

But it was them. There is no doubt in her mind. It was really them.

And they were really gone.

She turns to her side on the bed, curling into a tight fetal position without a second thought. Her right hand, pushed roughly into her throbbing chest, is still lodged there, pressing into the organ now and again as her pillow absorbed a fresh wave of incoming tears.

She felt desperately lost even though the next few days had been explained to her properly by the hospital's funeral home director. Her parents would be taken out of the hospital at first light and to the funeral home where they'd begin the process of…reassembling them…to look fit and proper for the funeral service. The service itself would be on the first weekend available: Saturday, 1 o'clock at St. Peter's Church. Anything else in regards to the service itself, she would have to speak with the parish.

The whole conversation, especially because it happened right after seeing her parents' lifeless bodies, had seemed methodical and scripted. She had looked at the sallow funeral director's face and although she had read the sympathy there, everything flowed as if on script. She nodded when she needed to and supplied answers when she needed to, while Anna remained by her side during the whole event, standing stock still with their hands still clasped in an unbreakable hold.

As soon as they saw, first her father on the metal slab, then her mother, she had been glad the red head fought tooth and nail to be there with her. That hand proved to be her pillar of support. It enabled her to keep standing even as her knees buckled in weakness for the second time that day only there was no inevitable fall. It reminded her that she was still tethered to something in this world…to someone.

She had been foolish to think she could do it alone.

Her mental acuity is in this state just as her door slowly opens, the minimal light from the hallway creeping into the room before disappearing again with the soft click of the knob.

She pushes herself up the bed, albeit weakly, and sits so that her legs are folded beneath her, eyes squinting at what could only be her sister's shadowy form making her way slowly towards the bed. She grasps for the lamp light and pulls the string, illuminating the room and bathing it in a soft glow.

Anna stands before her, copper locks unbraided and falling behind her in waves. She's donning a tight fit, red NYU shirt and pajama bottoms imprinted with ducklings. To anyone else it would look immature. On Anna, it strangely fit. The minimal lighting didn't show the puffiness, the tiredness, the redness of her countenance, her eyes fixed in a possibly permanent thousand yard stare, but she knows it's there. She's sure her sister sees the exact same thing from her. Wordlessly, she pulls on her sleeve to swipe her watery eyes.

She never liked looking weak in front of her sister. She would bare the brunt of all of this if it wasn't impossible.

"You're all ready for bed," she manages to croak out, and finds that she absolutely hates her voice today.

Anna merely smiles, the sadness still there, but also playful indignation. "You're not."

She looks down at her clothes, crinkled and in disarray from laying on them thoughtlessly. They're the same ones she put on this morning with only the thoughts of going to school: a thin, form fitting light yellow v-neck long sleeve and comfortable dark blue jeans.

She matches her sister's smile and flits her attention to her carry-on standing at the foot of her bed. "I don't think I brought night clothes."

She could barely remember what she had packed to begin with.

"I figured."

It's only then that she notices the bundle in Anna's arms. She reaches for them just as her sister leans forward, the two of them meeting at the edge of the bed momentarily. She graciously takes the clothes off of the red head's clasp, bringing them to her chest and without thinking breathes the scent in.

Anna.

"Th-they're my old clothes," the smaller girl explains in a stutter. "Well, they're not old, old, but…no…never mind. Yeah, they're old they're still good! Why would they not be good. It's not as if there have holes in unseemly places. You know, maybe they do. I didn't bother checking…Why didn't I bother checking?! Here, give them back. I'll—

"Anna."

The rambling stopped almost at once. God, she's missed that. How can someone miss incoherent babble? She can. In the end, it wouldn't have mattered if she were brought rags. If it came from Anna, they were worldly sufficient.

"Thank you," she says offering a grateful, genuine smile.

The red head grins and then only looks at her expectantly.

She wants you to put it on…

Right. Of course.

"You mind turning around?"

Elsa can still see the bright blush that had suddenly encompassed her sister's face from the tips of her ears before a quick, "Of course!" and simultaneous, abrupt turn.

As soon as she's graced with the smaller girl's stiff back, the blonde wordlessly peels off her clothes, starting with the long sleeve. Her tired mind blared out that the bathroom is only a couple doors away, but stubbornness and a bit of daring is all it took to ignore the inward chastise.

Undressing with Anna no more than three feet away, albeit definitely not watching, is making her stomach flop crazily. It isn't necessarily a bad feeling…

If your parents can see you now.

And definitely not a good one either…

She inwardly growls at her thought process, unclasping her bra and donning a black fitted shirt. Looking down, she's surprised to see Sci-Arc in blocked letters, making her wonder how Anna could've gotten a hold of her university's shirt. She discarded her jeans just as quickly and put on matching bottoms, letting out a short, "Okay" and meeting her sister's gaze as soon as the latter finally turns back around.

She's still blushing, giving the blonde a delirious high that she squashes with an iron fist. Instead, she pinches at her shirt and give the smaller girl a questioning look.

"How do you have my school's shirt?"

"Mom bought it for me."

Oh…

Anna scoots closer and turns before sitting down on the side of the bed, looking at her through a side profile as she begins the familiar task of unbraiding her now unkempt hair for the evening.

"It was…maybe three years ago?" the smaller girl continues, her gaze going up to the ceiling in reflection. "She had a meeting with LA's mayor…something important. Made a day trip. You were busy with school so she didn't see you, or so she says, but she did stop by at your university, bought me that shirt, and a hoody."

She remembers that day…because she did, in fact, see her mom.

Her birthday had been a couple of weeks before and Helene had come to see her to spend the day. They ate lunch at a popular hole in the wall ramen shop in downtown LA and toured her school after, the elder female Andersen buying what she called to be "souvenirs" at the school store. She hadn't told Elsa she'd be giving it to her sister…which would only make sense considering Anna was a taboo topic whenever either of her parents were in town.

It makes her wonder how much they had been lying for her.

"I visited you once…"

The sudden declaration shocks her, leaves her back ramrod straight, hands clutching at the haphazard blanket, and her attention undivided on the girl still looking up and away.

"Four years ago," Anna continues, her voice distant and quiet. "I didn't tell mom and dad. Just that I'd be spending spring break at a friend's. I bought the tickets. The airline called…made sure they were aware of an unaccompanied minor going on board. I…" she trails off and laughs an empty, sordid laugh that made Elsa's heart twinge. "I pretended I was mom. I wrote a letter, signed her name, spoke with them on the phone…everything. I guess they don't bother much especially if you've already paid for first class tickets. It was…surprisingly uncomplicated."

Green-blue eyes finally turn to her, the emotion gazing back at her unfamiliar. Loss? Helplessness? The blonde could only clutch at the blankets around her harder, her teeth worrying the insides of her cheeks.

"I couldn't find you."

Elsa swallowed roughly, unable to keep her sister's stare.

"I went into admissions. Told them you were my sister and asked for a home address, but they said they couldn't find you in the registry and even if they could they're not allowed to give private information like that to…anyone apparently. So…I just…walked around…all day…hoping…wishing…that maybe I would stumble into you by chance…" Anna sighed, gathering her legs into her body and holding them there with her arms, her cheeks resting on her knees. "No luck though…"

It was hard to breathe with the prevalent lump back in her throat, but she forces her way around it. Slouching against the headboard of her bed, she pointedly looks away—towards the wall—and explains in a neutral voice, "Four years ago I wouldn't have been enrolled in Sci-Arc just yet." She sees her sister's slumped figure straighten from her words. "I did one year of general studies in UCLA and then transferred to Sci-Arc's undergraduate program the spring after."

"But…you said you'd already finished admissions for Sci-Arc even before graduating high school." The redhead's tone sounds oddly accusing. "There…there isn't a better alternative than the best architecture school in the world! Especially when they've personally scouted you out!"

The blonde nods, agreeing inwardly at her sister's perfect argument. "I didn't know what I wanted…just yet. The indecisions of youth…I guess…I…" She trails off, unready for where this conversation has steered them. She knows it's not fair, but… "Please…not tonight Anna."

She unwillingly looks back at her sister, her expression pleading and sees disbelief etched upon the beautiful countenance. After a heavy and permeating several seconds with Anna keeping her silence, she finally gives a small nod to Elsa's unstated plea. The silence that blankets over them after is long and difficult.

But it's not as if the blonde could say that she only changed schools at the very last minute because she wanted to go somewhere her sister didn't know she'd be going—to possibly throw the latter in for a loop. And, upon the smaller girl's confession, she's only half glad that it worked.

Who knows what could've happened if they had met unscheduled. All her bravado of never seeing or speaking to the smaller girl again would've dissolved into ashes, the last five years a bad memory.

And would that have been so bad?

No, she finds herself answering just as quickly. It would've been such a welcome reprieve. What has the last five years been, but a bad memory?

She sighs outwardly, the sound loud in the too quiet room. Her head feels crowded of information and emotion from her far-from-normal day and it feels as if her body is finally catching up, the heaviness she feels in her bones making it difficult to move. She wonders how much longer until she can close her eyes and drift…but then the white morgue with sterling silver tables and drawers appear in her mind's eye again, and she knows tonight would be the most restlessness night she'll ever have to endure in her life.

"I have a love-hate relationship for when you're right."

Her sister's voice draws her back out of her morbid thoughts, her attention flittering to the younger girl and catching those eyes looking back at her again.

Her look turns questioning so the red head explains in a mutter, "I can't unsee them…"

"Oh, Anna…" She means it to sound like a chastise, but falls short. She can't fault her sister for this, even though she had warned her to begin with.

"I know," the smaller girl says with an exasperated sigh, unbuckling her hands from around her knees and falling backwards into the foot of the bed, her eyes fixed to the ceiling and her arms going outwards. "But I wanted to be there for you."

The open confession makes Elsa's heart flutter with joy, a smile reappearing in her solemn features, and before she knows it, before she can overthink it like she normally does, she's crawling towards her sister, sliding both hands around unsuspecting underarms as soon as she reaches the girl's prone form.

"Elsa?"

She ignores the confused call and instead pulls the smaller girl up until she's kind of sitting down again, giggling when the red head yelps at the sudden, albeit welcoming, intrusion. She pulls her again, this time from the waist until Anna's body is ensconced into her own, back melded with her front. Before anymore words are uttered between them, she grabs a couple of pillows from the headboard and place them a few feet away, falling into them tiredly and pulling her sister with her, gripping the smaller girl's waist in a fiercely, overprotective manner.

The pillow feels nice and cool, still a bit wet from earlier tears, but she's decided to ignore it as plaintively as possible. Anna's body feels warm and soft, her familiar smell flitting everywhere and for tonight, she chooses to ignore the alarm ringing in the corners of her mind that she shouldn't be enjoying this as much as she is.

The red head shuffles a bit, enough to cause doubt in the blonde that she may have been too forward, but the smaller girl merely brushes her copper hair away and to the side, giving her a backwards look and an unreadable smile before scooting closer, laying back down, and covering her arms with her own.

Elsa couldn't remember the last time she had felt this comfortable. Anna is all around her, drowning her senses, and she happily, willingly holds her tighter, a part of her afraid of the smaller girl leaving.

But she doesn't. In another minute, she's shuffling so that they're laying face to face, the blonde able to count the smatter of freckles upon an otherwise smooth visage.

Beautiful.

And before she knows it, her hands are upon warm cheeks, caressing the younger girl's face, memorizing with touch and smell and sight everything that's being readily given to her. Because this won't last. This is fleeting. All of it. She knows that. She knows she'll have to return to California where she has to shut out her sister again. She knows there isn't any other option available. This impending separation…it's for the greater good.

But until then, she can indulge herself, right? It'll be only for a week—two max. She can act like the big sister she should be while her mind conjures up less than pleasant thoughts. So long as she keeps her promise to be able to let go in the end, there's nothing wrong with a little self-indulgence. Plus…she's sick of pushing her sister away. This tug of war between her brain and heart isn't something the red head needs. So…just for a little while, she's made the decision to…give in.

Elsa shuffles closer, if that were possible, eyes locked with bright turquoise eyes until her forehead is touching the smaller girl's. She reads surprise, elation, and warmth amongst those green-blue orbs and sighs in inward relief that this isn't crossing some kind of boundary.

With her thumb ghosting over smooth cheeks and her heart filled to the brim, she declares softly, honestly, openly, "I miss you too. So much."

Anna's expression freezes momentarily, long enough to elicit panic within the blonde's system, but it dissolves as the younger girl throws her arms over her shoulders in a ferocious back breaking hug.

Elsa chuckles at the intensity of the action before mimicking it, pulling her sister so the smaller girl is laying on top of her. Surprisingly enough, this didn't elicit any unchaste thoughts, even though the red head's face is just floating inches above her own and their bodies practically melding together. Maybe it was what she saw in her sister's expression: infallible trust, overfilling adoration, and selfless love projecting only to her.

Ever since they were little she'd always look at her like that, an expression so open and filled with guiltless, loving, adoring abandon that the blonde had no idea how to react to it. She still doesn't. But instead of shying away as she had done so before…just for these two weeks, she's decided to reciprocate it.

She lifts herself up by her elbows and swiftly places a kiss on Anna's brow, smirking in inward satisfaction at the easy blush it produces. Without another thought, she leans towards the lamp and pulls the string, blanketing the room in palpable darkness and holds the smaller girl tighter to her. The red head responds by burrowing deeper in her embrace, head delving into the crook of her neck and hands grasping at each of her sides.

"Don't think anymore," Elsa says softly in the dark. "Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

She feels more than sees her sister smile which brings a soft one to her face as well, her hand coming up to brush wild copper locks automatically.

She didn't think it was possible, but sleep finally seems to be a serious option. Her eyes have finally become heavy, her thoughts lingering on nothing. Her overworked brain feels like it's finally had it with thinking, and she's more than alright to submit to the void.

Until she feels a small kiss on her neck, a small, "Goodnight, Elsa" tickling the same spot as her sister mumbles the words sleepily. Not a minute later and she knows the smaller girl is asleep, but her eyes remain wide and fixed on the ceiling. She wonders briefly how Anna could sleep with her ears so close to the blonde's thumping heart, but decides her sister not waking up and asking why that particular organ was suddenly on overdrive is a good thing that's best left alone.

Unfortunately the rush of blood over her entire system has relegated her brain into waking up again, incoherent thoughts scrambling inside her head that she knows as soon as she begins to even attempt to decipher them that they'll scatter like dandelion fuzz in a summer breeze.

She sighs outwardly, her lips pursing as Anna lets out a small snore that sounds almost mocking in her ears. She rolls her eyes and burrows her head deeper into her pillow, subjugated on having a restless night. Then again, it's not to say she's uncomfortable. On the contrary she hasn't felt this content in ages. In the relative safety and darkness of her room, it's okay to feel like this, right? She holds on to that thought, twists and dissects it.

Even then, it's not as if today solved anything. It's just one step out of many uncountable ones.

How long will she be able to evade her sister's questioning looks? How long until just one question shatters this fragile security between them? These questions, best left for another day, plague her now in the dead of night.

And as her thoughts thrummed on and her fingers graze over a smooth back and soft curls, she officially knows that rest is not forthcoming.

Her mind and heart continue their silent war as she, without apology, breathes in the familiar, soothing cinnamon scent.

Sleep is overrated anyway.