Chapter Twenty: Obscured Lines

The wave of emotions don't dissipate. It's not that she expected it to—watching a close acquaintance, or any human for that matter regardless of relationship, get beaten within an inch of his life, is heart wrenching to the point of absolute torture. So she's tried, since the video feed was cut, to rein her emotions in and be the Ice Queen she's purported to be…and she knows she's failing.

"Elsa?"

She's so lost in thought that she isn't even aware of the trickling of students from the lecture hall, each of them giving Anna and herself a perplexed look. Some, not so discretely, stay to see what'll transpire, phones out and video presumably recording.

Her smile is tight and doesn't reach her eyes, and she knows she can't fool Anna—not her of all people, but the hallway corridor of her university is not the best place to talk—is actually in the top ten worst places to hold a conversation, so she holds out her hand wordlessly, something her sister takes without preamble and motions for them to walk to the exit. Burke and Munro merely follow silently at their side, chests puffed up, intimidating factor to the max, and dagger staring anyone who dares come close enough.

The smooth hand against hers is lovely, just what she needed as a reminder that even though their world is falling apart and will likely continue to do so in a mind-shattering way, if she can hold this hand and those green-blue eyes gazing back at her—whether from concern or happiness—it's going to be okay.

She forces a smile with each intermittent gaze thrown in her direction from a confused and worried redhead, but not so very surprisingly, it only drives the concern to grow deeper.

"H—

Elsa's mouth clamps mid-talk, her brain berating her for stuttering of all things and causing her sister's expression to deepen all the more. She gathers a deep shaky breath. The outside air is colder today—it might actually rain for the first time in months based on the dark clouds converging overhead, but there's no relief found within the half-thought.

"How was your finals?" Her voice is lower than she wants to project, and the anxiety upon Anna's face doesn't disappear, but at least she gets an answer in a form of a mild shrug.

"Good, maybe? I was able to answer everything alright, although some of the dates and their significance confused me for a bit. It was easier than I expected."

"Good."

Elsa's peripherals catch many students following them, her heart twittering in palpitations in her ears and she knows she's being paranoid, but she strengthens her hold upon her sister's and increases her pace, Anna following wordlessly following each step beside her.

"I have a feeling I'm looking forward to the end of your quarter more than you are," she says in a jibe, but the words come off to be even more anxious than the last, her hands beginning to shake in tandem to the rest of her body.

"Elsa…"

The taller girl shakes her head from the look and sound of concern coming from her sister, finally catching sight of the familiar black Lincoln and Kai standing at the foot of it. Relief courses through her and their brisk pace quickens all the more, Anna unquestioning, but still giving her worried looks every now and again.

The door opens, and of course she lets her sister in first before clambering in herself, Burke following them and Munro closing the door behind.

Kai drives without needing instruction, Anna turning her body fully towards her as they leave the perimeter of her university.

"What is it?"

Her sister's hand is cupping the side of her face before she's quite aware, her gaze falling to the floor as a soft thumb grazes her skin. And she knows she looks to be all sorts of frenzied, and she begins to feel her eyes stinging in response to the pain in her sinuses and permanent block in her throat, but for all her pep talk in reining it in only a half an hour back and not allowing her sister to see this, she can't. She's not strong enough. How can she be? What can she do for any of it to stop?

She doesn't see the widening of turquoise eyes when the tears begin dropping silently, but she does feel the tightening of her sister's hand against her face and soon after, the embrace of steady arms and comfort of an unyielding body. The tears flow on unbidden, drops and seeps into a white and light blue checkered flannel that she grips mindlessly into fisted bunches, but she knows Anna doesn't mind—will never. The shaking comes back with a vengeance, every part of her denying sound from releasing whether it be cries or frustrated yells, so she just tightens her hold, pulling the smaller girl against her to the point that smothering herself seems like a real possibility. It's always better than the alternative.

The dam can't be broken. She won't let it. She has to be strong. She has to do this. Not for herself, but for Anna. Only for Anna.

"Stop. It's okay, Elsa." Her sister's whisper streaming into her ear is a soothing balm, filled to the brim with understanding. "Breathe."

The inhale is rough, patchy, and stuttered, her lungs afire with relief as the combination of her sister's scent and the Lincoln's leather interior becomes a tether she can hold on to. She's so caught up in the current buzzing bouncing around in her mind that she forgets to even do that—something that should be autonomic. What other evidence does she need that all of this is about to take a turn for the worse and there's nothing she can do?

She takes in heavy gasps of air from her mouth as she moves away from a comforting embrace, green-blues heavy in concern as they dart from one pupil to another. The grip transfers from her shoulders to her hand, fingers interlocking in a firm grasp as she stares unseeingly into a freckled collar.

She tells her sister everything: The Bestseller, his words, his warnings, the USB, the contents of the USB, and Anna remains quiet and attentive—grip worsening per second until she's completely done.

"We have to warn Sid."

Elsa nods, but her mind is neither here nor there—stuck between indecision and being frightened of an alternative reality in which she makes the wrong one and they both have to live with it.

"Elsa."

She looks up at stalwart eyes.

How are you not scared?

"I am."

She's taken aback at the answer—realizes too late that she utters the question between uneven breaths.

"We'd be stupid not to be. This guy…Matthias…"

"The Bestseller—

"I don't care what he calls himself. He could want me to call him Voldemort, but I'll call him Tom all I want!"

The indignant almost-yell forces a chuckle from the recess of her still lodged throat. It disappears too quickly when Anna doesn't share her mirth.

"First thing's first," the smaller girl says, eyes narrowed and expression morose. "We have to tell Sid. She can't…" She swallows roughly, pain encompassing her features. "She can't watch it without knowing about it first. It would destroy her…"

Elsa can only nod.

"As for the rest…I mean…does that mean he already has videos? He's just waiting for time and circumstance?"

"I don't…I don't know…"

Silence befalls them, the usual bout of helplessness once again clawing at her chest, screaming of her utter inaneness.

"It's okay."

Her eyes dart up to sure green-blue orbs, gazing back at her with profoundness and surety. How does this girl do this time and time again? Where does she get it?

"We'll figure this out, Elsa. Together. I don't know how. I don't know when. I'm going all positivity and optimism on this one, but…it'll be okay. Alright?"

Elsa nods. It's the only thing she can do. Her sister smiles, warm arms coming around her to envelop her in another hug. And it's not something that's common—their roles being reversed this way. It's usually her cooing in the smaller girl's ear, her arms around a shaking body, and her fingers brushing through soft hair.

"Silly." The whispered admonishment in her ear surprises her a bit, Anna's eyes gazing down at her lovingly if not a little exasperatingly. "How many times do I have to say that you can lean on me too?"

"I don't—

"It's not about being older, Elsa. I know it's ingrained in you to be the one who's always protecting and comforting and all the things mom and dad were, are, and would always be. I get it. But as your younger sibling, I'm always here to defy you—as I've defied and questioned our parents. I'm here to be the brat who always gets what she wants and right now, I want to be the one to protect you. As your…lover? Girlfriend? What? Is there a label for what we are?"

The deprecating chuckle that escapes from Elsa's throat alleviates the heaviness sitting like weights on her chest. "Partners?" she supplies, getting a shrug from the smaller girl.

"Still doesn't sound right, but I'll take it. As your partner—striking out the younger sibling part, I'll always have the need to protect you. Like…like a lioness to her cub or the winning male of a mating ritual—

"Anna…"

"Point is…try as you might to shield me and protect me and disregard your well-being in the process, I won't let you. So…let's get in the same page so that we don't have this conversation over and over. I love this. Not—not that you're scared. I hate that. But I love that you can lean on me—that you deem me good enough for that—

"Now you're being silly…" Elsa swipes water accumulating from her eyes and moves back only to have Anna pull her back into a strong shoulder.

"Shush, I'm not done."

The older girl laughs, pulling the smaller girl into her as well and tightening their hold. She can feel the rumble of Anna's words as she speaks, feels the excited thump thumps of a rushing heartbeat against the curve of her lips.

"I love being the person you're waiting for whether it be outside of my classroom, at home, or at the studio. I love that at the end of the day, you can embrace me and make me feel all sorts of being loved and protected, and, more importantly, I love that the situation can be reversed. I'm here for you and you acknowledge it. You won't ask for it from anyone else. Can I make a case with your logical persona here and point out that because you won't ask anyone else that it only makes sense that I have to protect you? Not have to, of course, but—

"Yes."

The words stop mid-stream, Anna's mouth still open from the action. Again, the smaller girl pulls back, only infinitesimally, to look at her, green-blues wide and seemingly in suspended belief.

"Yes," Elsa repeats, because she means it.

She does need this. She needs Anna as a support, a lending hand, a strong shoulder. She needs the other girl to release built up frustrations to and scream and yell injustices if need be. They both need to be in an unquestionable place especially regarding how they view one another. Even more-so now…at this new looming threat and the older one that's seemingly coalescing into one massive clusterfuck.

And Anna understands. Of course she does. She probably understands better than anyone in the world.

"United we stand, divided we fall?" Anna asks, cheeky grin in place.

"Isn't that…the 9-11 motto?"

"Fits, weird enough…"

Elsa sighs, vision blackening as she grinds her sockets on the slope of a warm shoulder. Fingers curl easily in the back of her neck, kneading the tightness from strained muscles, and sooner than she wants, the fatigue is catching up to her again. She does a mental count on how long she had slept the night prior: four, and the night before that, since she and her teammates stayed up to freshen up on their group presentation the following day, she had only gotten five and a half to six.

She pulls back the yawn, a sigh coming up in its stead, but it doesn't fool her sister.

"After visiting Sid and Mel, we're going home and you're gonna have a nap."

She groans, kisses the still thumping pulse point, and sits up. The petty argument dies in her throat as she's reminded that they're not alone in the car. Kai's usually there, sure, and they're both pretty aware of him most times, but he's used to their brand of closeness by now, especially since her tell-all to him. She had forgotten about the protective detail though, and although the whole state has a gnawing suspicion of just how close she and Anna are, their physicality is not something she wants broadcasted—even (and maybe especially) towards her current employees. Aside from writing their paychecks and a non-disclosure agreement she had made everyone sign, there's really no allegiance. And she doesn't expect it—not at all. She's a firm believer of having a job and doing it well, and if they can do that, then everything's fine.

It still doesn't stop the heat from traveling up her neck and settling in her cheeks from being caught in a rather intimate moment though…

"Peter, you have ties to the FBI, right?"

Her sister's question gathers her attention and also Burke's, whose eyes dart between the two of them before settling on the redhead and giving one firm nod after.

"Matthias Christensen…is he someone you can search for?"

"I'll contact an old friend and see what he can do for me," he replies rather straightforwardly. "If the search turns out fruitless, we can also try to find information under his alias if you'd like."

Anna nods. "Thank you."

He nods again before pointedly glancing to the passing world outside.

"You're red as a tomato, by the way."

Elsa gives the smaller girl a harassed look, but it only heightens the hilarity. From her perspective, she sees Munro pulling back a smirk and Burke giving a small, disguised cough, and even though she can't see Kai's lips from the rearview mirror, there's a twinkle of mirth in his eyes too.

The ride to the hospital doesn't take much longer thereafter, Kai taking a route less traveled as they get into the hospital's massive property line. It takes another ten minutes to find a side entrance (the same one they exited the previous night) and, with Burke and Munro following them a step behind, they enter the warm confines of the building in search for the ICU.

It's quiet, but not suspiciously so. Many people pass them: employees, doctors, nurses, and visitors alike, but none give them another look—the place is bustling with activity regardless of how silent the halls seem. The four of them keep it until they reach the elevators heading specifically towards the ICU.

"She's gonna wanna see it regardless," Anna says as the elevators pull them up, sidling beside her and locking their fingers loosely—a touch more than a gesture.

Elsa sighs, the deep frown reappearing as she gives a shrug that points out every bit of helplessness she feels. "We can't stop her…I can only imagine how it would be…watching it and seeing a loved one on the other side."

"Stop, I'm sure you've already imagined it more than enough today," is the smaller girl's soft berate.

That's certainly not something she can dispute.

The doors open, their bodies separating almost automatically. Not too far, yet it doesn't stop Elsa from feeling bitter about such a robotic action. Her sister doesn't say a word, but the sad smile thrown her way is understanding enough. It stops mattering in a couple seconds, Mel's room just several steps away and Johnson and Stanley standing up straighter from against the wall as soon as their presence is noted.

"Do they have visitors currently?" Elsa asks, not bothering with pleasantries.

Johnson gives a firm nod. "A young man. A friend of theirs, as far as we've gathered."

Conversation flitters from the half open door and beyond the still closed curtain, hushed and subdued amidst the still monotonous beep. A part of Elsa is glad that the beep is still there, strong and steady, but more than anything she wishes for the older boy to just wake up. It's a selfish thought, wanting something so out of her control, but it doesn't stop her from wishing it nonetheless.

"Kai and I are working on the twelve hour shifts," she states, eyeing both of the still attentive protective detail. "Rest assure that we'll get more to stand guard and take your place so it's not very taxing. Please put up with the inconvenience for just another day."

A pair of eyes widen at her, and she wonders briefly why they're so surprised. There are still OSHA labor laws in effect, aren't there?

"Thank you Miss Andersen," Johnson says with a concealed smile. "You can rest assure that we will maintain the same above average effort regardless of the outcome."

Anna tugs at her hand briefly, impatience coating the younger girl's features. She gives another nod to the two men, Burke and Munro taking their spots silently and without instruction, before going in the hospital room, just one step behind the smaller girl.

"I really am sorry Sidney." The other voice becomes closer and more discernibly male. "If there's anything I can do, let me know. I've lived such a sheltered life that seeing th—this despicableness…I have no words. I hope Mel wakes up soon."

"Thank you."

Sid and the visitor comes into full view just as Anna pulls the privacy screen, the two bodies standing over Mel's prone, still unconscious form.

"Anna! Elsa!"

The wide smile that greets them quells the nervousness that had been sitting uncomfortably in Elsa's chest since entering the hospital. A part of her (the overly pessimistic and realistic part) had been dreading that maybe Sidney will greet them a with a bit more wariness—a hint of resentment underneath a guise of a stilted smile, especially after what transpired with her father only a night prior. But there's nothing upon the other girl's face, but relief at seeing them, what looks to be an apologetic smile, of all things, quirking the corners of thinning lips.

"Well, it looks like it's going to get just a tad too crowded in here, but I was planning on going anyway," her visitor says with a sheepish smile, and begins turning away. He nods at the two of them wordlessly before disappearing through the curtain, the abruptness of his departure striking Elsa as just a bit odd before she realizes that the majority of New York's population, especially the younger generation that has been anywhere near any of the major internet sites, probably knows who they are now based on just looks alone and would not, under any circumstances, want to stay to chat.

Sidney greets them the exact way the night prior: a hug for Anna and a polite stifled smile that the older girl gives back. Moments later and all three of them are again sitting around Mel's prone form, Anna in the middle between the two. Silence befalls the three before her sister gives out a tired sigh, reaching towards Mel's hand and holding it gently within her own. She looks at Sidney with a concerned frown, an unsure smile her only response.

"Is…is everything okay? With…your dad?"

The other girl's smile falters, eyes deferring to her brother and dulling with each second that passes.

"He left a little after you guys did," she replies, the column of her neck moving from a rough swallow and her voice nearly imperceptible. "He didn't really give me any more time to say anything word-wise. Just…kept muttering about how it was done 'under his roof' and how he isn't going to sit back and just take it. I tried explaining…although I probably made things worse. He refused to listen to what I had to say. After a while he just left. He hasn't been back since."

"This isn't meant to be a prying question," Elsa starts, gathering both of their attentions. She doesn't look at either of them though, opting instead to view the young man before her, breathing in time to the beat of the respirator. "How are either of you financially?"

She doesn't have to look at Sidney to see the discomfort there. It's a pretty loaded question—she knows. But if there's anything she and Anna can do…and not only because she feels this is, in extension, her fault but because if any kind of gesture would make her sister happy at all, she'd do it without question.

"I don't…" Sidney trails off, shoulders shrugging, but it looks anything, but a casual action.

Elsa trudges through. "Are your parents paying for either of you? Your apartment, tuition, books? Are they taking care of all of that?"

She half expects her sister to stop the small inquisition, but is glad when she doesn't—glad that they're both in the same page with where she's going with this.

Anna puts a free hand atop Sidney's shoulder, a warm smile gracing a tired face. "Sid…we're here to help. Any kind of help—monetary, emotional, whatever you want—whatever you need. Nothing is being taken by force. We're doing this because we care. All we want is for Mel to wake up. All we want is for you to care about that. Nothing else. If…"

She stalls, maybe unsure of what to say. After a pregnant moment she looks up at Elsa, green-blues pleading, but lips firmly closed in difficultly reined silence. The taller girl takes that as her cue to continue for her sister.

She waits for the brunette to look between the two of them and settle on her before offering a small smile. "I have a tendency of thinking of the worst case scenarios Sidney. I…I put everything in a neat little box and I calculate what can or could happen based on that, and from there, I make executive decisions. Ever since last night, when your father was informed of you and Mel, I've taken it upon myself to see to those scenarios. I…" Elsa stops for a moment, recalls the past and every minute detail of her plans from the evening upon telling her father about her feelings to the ultimatum she had passed because of it. At the time, it had been the best decision. No one would be hurt, nothing would be amiss. Of course, the end result had been completely different. Someone had gotten hurt—the worst person it could affect, but…

Live and learn…

"This isn't out of pity. It isn't even about guilt, even though Anna and I feel we're partially responsible for what's happened to your brother." She trails off just to allow the disagreeing shake of a brunette head before continuing, "This is about doing what's right, and as selfish as it sounds, doing what makes Anna happiest, when it comes to me and my own decisions anyway. What makes her happy is keeping her friends safe and protected in whatever way. That's the reason why there are guards outside. That's the reason why if your father is willing to hand you an ultimatum—which I'm almost a hundred percent sure will happen—that, without question, we will be able to provide whatever financial burden you and Mel will come across. There is no way we can force this upon you, of course, but we want to put it out there just as a backup plan.

"What we said during dinner in Anna's studio…those weren't just words. They weren't empty promises. We're here for the two of you in whatever way you need us. So long as we can provide it, just say the words."

Shimmering tears dam across Sidney's already red rimmed eyes, a shaky hand coming upon the lids to wipe the excess water after a brief moment's hesitation. Anna gives her a watery smile before engulfing her in a half hug, the brunette crashing atop sloped shoulders and gripping her sister's shirt like a lifeline.

Elsa looks away, her throat coating with fire as silent sobs fill the almost silent room in tandem to the beep beep of the heart monitor and the deflate and inflate of the respirator. A part of her is aware that the tears—at least some of it—is of respite and relief. That Sidney knows she's not alone regardless of how much it feels like it since her brother's usually protective shield is all but a memory.

Her hand snakes into her pencil skirt pockets, grips the warm USB drive and attempts to crush it within her palm. The rough edges dent her skin easily, the smooth curves of the plastic wet with perspiration. And she knows she has to break this girl apart again, even though she's already broken in so many unfixable pieces. But this is a path all of them has chosen, and regardless of how hard it is, there has to be a silver lining at the end. She has to believe that. All of them do.

Drifting into a vortex of pain and depression isn't an option. They have to be strong and believe it isn't all for naught.

Green-blues lock with hers, a silent understanding passing between them. Anna inhales deeply, putting her hand, palm up, to accept the plastic device currently gripped in a strong fist.

"Sidney…" Anna calls, but her voice is small and unsure, already filled with regret at what's about to transpire. "There's one other thing you need to know about…"

Forest green eyes glance up at the two of them, drifting between hers, then Anna's, and then at the USB atop the redhead's hand. She emits another rough swallow before sighing, her silence the only indicator her sister needs to begin.

O—O—O

Anna's quite aware that she should be listening to everything Kai's saying, but her mind's eye is stuck replaying the contents of the USB.

They stayed for hours beside Sidney after watching the video feed, giving endless support to the then nerve wracked girl, but Anna knew, even then, that regardless of anything she and her sister could say, nothing would make the situation better. Only at the brunette's insistence to be alone so that she can think had they started to make their leave, but not before giving more solemn sorries.

A part of her feels—knows it's their fault. Even though they hadn't been the ones recording or a part of the group beating Mel down with words and extremities, they had started this awful mess. So it's only right that they fix it somehow, right?

"You're thinking too loud."

She's barely aware that her charge had stopped talking, only able to filter the older girl's quiet words instead.

She shakes her head, teeth clenched to the point where her mandibles are complaining of a pulsing sore. "I'm so angry," she manages to seethe.

Elsa sighs, wraps a gentle arm around her neck and pulls her in. Anna searches for her sister's waist, finds the smooth curves easily enough, and grips the blouse with strength coated by irritation. Her face finds the nook of the older girl's neck automatically, eyes closing and wishing for the familiar, comforting smell to dispel the images flashing behind her eyelids every time she closes them for even a second.

"Is it wise to leave Sidney alone after that?" the blonde asks softly atop her head.

"It's a lot to take in," the younger girl says with a small sigh. "I'd want to be left alone…"

"We'll come back later. With food."

Anna nods, even though she's quite aware it isn't a question. She looks up at light blue eyes, sees the strain and the bags so easily, and caresses the porcelain skin with the back of her fingers.

"You need rest."

She notices the refute even before the older girl can open her mouth.

"Wasn't a question Elsa."

She receives a chastising smile for her cheekiness, but earns a nod as well. "So long as you rest with me."

With this, Anna gives an easy shake of the head. "Another final tomorrow," she says easily. "I need to study."

Elsa groans, but doesn't say more on the matter. Considering it was her that had pushed it the day before, the younger girl knows it's a bit of a cheat move, but a lot of this current situation isn't sitting well with her…and she needs answers to questions her sister can't provide. At the same time, it feels as if Elsa can't be there for it. She's not sure why, but she feels like she needs to do it alone.

Meet the conman currently making their life absolute hell.

The rest of the ride to the estate is silent, and as soon as they make their way nearing the property line, she's pleasantly surprised to see not one person in sight. The news vans are gone, the reporters with them. Even better, the picket holders have left too, probably begrudgingly. The sold property sign across the street feels like a bad omen, the mansion further down in its rickety state catching Anna's eyes just as they turn into their own estate.

She fights the eagerness to barrel down the street and kick the door open and instead, clambers her way out of the car, Elsa following suit, and their silent-as-ever protective detail at the rear.

"Miss Elsa, what would you like done about the vultures?" Kai asks just as the three of them reach the bottommost step of the grand staircase.

"What'd they do now?" Anna asks grouchily, receiving an exasperating smile from her ward that makes her feel a bit sheepish. She remembers, a little too late, that he was speaking in the car earlier and she hadn't been paying the least bit attention.

"They're aware of who you're both visiting and stringing stories from there. Unfortunately they're kind of in the right spot. I suspect neither of you want Mr. and Miss Sullivan to be part of the witch hunt as well…"

The anger resting in Anna's gut spikes again, Elsa's hand gripping hers just in time.

"The video will hit the internet in a couple of hours," the blonde says, taking the first step and gesturing the smaller girl to follow her with a small tug of the hand. "Unfortunately I need to know of the public's general reaction before we can make anymore decisions regarding that."

Kai nods and stays at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at their retreating form. "I bid you both to rest well then."

Elsa smiles wistfully at the older man, stopping abruptly at the middle. "You should rest too Kai. If I didn't get much sleep then neither did you."

They only get a dismissive wave of a hand and a sympathetic smile. "I'm fine Miss Elsa. I need to check on some things so that when you do wake, I'll have more news to present. Hopefully, I'll be bringing good tidings."

Her sister's grim smile is all telling of what either of them thinks of the outcome of the next few hours, but neither say anymore on the matter.

Another tug and she's walking beside her sister, silence reigning between them as they trek to the older girl's room. Just another look at Elsa's face makes it obvious that she's trying to pull back the weariness seeping out in minute drops like an overflowing bathtub, and the pang in Anna's chest reminds her of how much the older girl works—how so much is done and taken care of behind the scenes just so the redhead doesn't have to worry.

But of course she does…How can she not? From the bags underneath Elsa's eyes to the wrinkles set on her forehead, there's no doubt she's digging herself into an early grave with the worry and responsibility that she wears like a cowl. And Anna has no delusions as to why.

It's all for me…And she wants to ask, But what about you? How am I supposed to take care of you when you're so adamant in being this strong superhuman that has the biggest and most obvious weakness?

"Lay with me awhile?"

Anna's abruptly taken from her inner thoughts, the nod coming out automatically and too quickly. Light blues flash in immediate concern and she attempts to wave it off by pushing the taller girl playfully into the darkened room. On any other day, the sunlight would be enough to burst through the darkened curtains. Today, streaks of rain line the glass windows while thunder growls menacingly in the distance.

It's the first time in what feels like months that they might be subjected to deluge.

Elsa sits at the side of the bed, back bending tiredly as a soft sigh emits from full lips. And even in this way, with fatigue resting in half-lidded eyes and platinum hair disheveled and poking out in places that could only be from long fingers sweeping them back in restrained frustration, Anna only sees an achingly beautiful woman with soft, loving eyes that stare back at her unapologetically. It makes her thankful, for what seems like the millionth time, that they're able to be here exactly the way they are today.

Her mind's eye gives her a brief look of what could be's: if Elsa hadn't confessed, if she had lied instead of spoken the truth about her feelings. How different everything would be…

Both of their lives would be simpler. All of this could be avoidable. And yet…absolutely nothing would be worth anything to either of them. Together and apart.

A part of her brain flashes signals that maybe this isn't the right time. Intimacy has a time and place, doesn't it? Just thirty minutes ago, the two of them were whispering sympathies to a crying, inconsolable ear. In a fair and justifiable world, they shouldn't be allowed little mercies like being with each other in the way only the two of them can share.

It's one of the few times and exceptions that she doesn't mind if the world just isn't a fair place…

Anna kneels before her sister, catching light blue eyes widening in confusion before her own defer to Elsa's shoes, rubbing the back of her ankle with a curved hand before pulling the low heel off and letting it clatter on the wooden floor. Her sister makes a sound of dissent from the back of her throat, bending forward in an attempt to stop her, but if Anna were to be truthful, she's enjoying this. It's domesticated and normal, and yet marks such intimacy that it borders a sense of privacy.

She looks up and says nothing, catching Elsa's eyes and holding her attention until understanding dawns there. It doesn't take very long, and in the space of a few moments her hands are moving onwards to the other shoe, her left hand caressing a bent knee and traveling down long smooth legs, resting at the base of alabaster ankles and holding it in place as her other hand pulls the other heel off.

The wooden floor is hard against her knees, but Anna cares little for it. Instead, she shimmies across the cool surface, both of her palms curving into each of Elsa's knees. Her fingers rest there momentarily before parting them like a curtain and inserting herself in the space between. As if hearing a cue to a dance devoid of music the older girl's hands reach out towards her face, soft digits rubbing soothing circles on the expanse of her cheeks. The soft smile upon that regally beatific face is filled with adoration she had never and will never see from another partner.

It only makes sense, of course, that she'd fight tooth and nail to protect this, if nothing else.

Anna's hands travel higher, across creamy thighs and beneath the charcoal skirt, her fingers plotting their own circles atop the soft surface of the blonde's skin. She angles her head just a little to the right before closing her eyes, meeting here sister partway through.

The kiss is slow and languid, each lick and suckle met with the same fervor and intensity. Fire sweeps easily through her veins, the roaring in her ears in tandem to the thudding pulse of her erratic heartbeat. She's only minutely aware of the tightening of Elsa's fingers against her face, paying more attention to the wonderful sounds emitting from the older girl's mouth and attempting to breathe in and assimilate each moan that escapes.

Her busy hands reaches the first part of their goal, inching the skirt higher and higher with each push until it's bunched across the blonde's waist. Each digit crawls beneath the silky underwear, finds purchase upon rounded buttocks and the taut muscles and soft skin rippling against her palms, possibly as an involuntary response to the eagerness of her actions. She pulls Elsa closer to her and feels the heat of the blonde's inner thighs pressed against her midsection. She greedily drinks another moan that this incites, biting lush bottom lips while pushing herself up from her uncomfortable position and carrying the taller girl closer to the center of the bed before baring her body completely downwards.

To accommodate the small move, the older girl wraps her legs tightly across Anna's waist, lean arms doing the same over her freckled shoulders, and it takes a bit of effort, but their lips stay fused, busy hands skimming atop any available open surface of soft skin.

The sweet, dull throb pulsing in Anna's lower belly is beginning to flare to uncontrollable proportions, the need for Elsa's writhing, insatiable form breaking in her hands clouding her already muddling mind. When they break for air (Why do we need air? her inner mind complains heftily) her eyes meet with darkened blues, a stormy ocean ripe with desire and intensity.

"D-door," Elsa manages to say breathily, chest heaving in large gulps of air and her legs contradicting her words as the smaller girl is drawn in tighter, a small grind pushing a heating core against Anna's stomach and carrying with it a needy moan.

The redhead grins, pulls Elsa in rougher, meeting each grind with a flexed abdomen and bending back down to begin kissing the curve of an alabaster jaw, fine hairs standing on end with each peck and a guttural groan per small lick of sweet skin.

"A-Anna…door…"

She wants to be cheeky—to playfully taunt the older girl at how she's reduced her all seemingly eloquence form to one that's monosyllabic, but stops herself—gives a small knowing smirk instead and merely resumes her ministrations, going from one curved jaw to the other end and nipping at a soft earlobe that elicits a languid jerk and painful bites of curved nails against her shoulder blades.

Her tongue pokes out, licks the underside of a reddened ear and feels Elsa shiver beneath her.

"We're the only ones in the entire wing," she whispers into the shell of the older girl's ear. The hold on her shoulders tighten.

She gives one last squeeze at muscular glutes before pulling her hand up to begin unbuttoning a white blouse, her mouth migrating south, towards a rapidly beating jugular, finding it, and latching her lips around the tender skin. The responding moan that fills her ears is delicious, each feverish breath whispering her name in worship.

The want pools in her belly, striking the shakes from her fingers as each digit finds a button and deftly pops them out of place. Her mouth continues its adventurous trek downwards, feeling Elsa's swallow through a columned neck and brushing her tongue languidly atop collarbones. Fingers rush impatiently at her collared shirt, the blonde's hand pulling it up and only gets stopped as Anna pushes her now unbuttoned blouse down, pinning alabaster arms to the bed and garnering a long frustrated growl from the older girl.

Anna merely grins impishly in reply, pushing her weight on her arms and locking Elsa down by the elbows. "Uh uh," the smaller girl sounds out, shaking her head in the process. "You're tired. Just you right now."

The sad pout that greets her words flips her belly, almost makes her want to give an upper hand to an always hard-at-work older sister. But Elsa needs to rest, and although the next half hour isn't very conducive of that, it should help for the next few hours when the older girl is tucked in bed and sound asleep.

Anna leans back down and plants her lips atop Elsa's, darkened blue eyes closing automatically to meet her in another slow kiss. Each sweep of a tongue and nibble of pliant lips sends tingles to march resolutely down her inner thighs, a sensation she squashes with an iron fist.

She leans out, inhales Elsa's just as rough breaths fanning against her face and stares longingly into sapphire irises coating with light blue streaks.

"Don't think about anything else," Anna says in the small space between them, her eyes darting from sparkling eyes to barely there freckles that she kisses softly in turn. "You need your sleep. Let me lead you there."

A pregnant pause washes over them before the older girl makes a small sound, and it doesn't seem like refute so Anna flourishes a bright grin, one that's answered with an exasperated smile before continuing on.

The royal purple brassier contrasts so glaringly well against Elsa's alabaster skin. The redhead isn't even aware of how much she's staring at both luscious mounds of flesh, eyes darting over the intricate designs of the obviously well made fabric and attempting, vainly, to repress the accumulation of drool forming in the recesses of her mouth. It's only when the blonde's chest begins heaving in laughter, lips quirked up in an amused smirk, and eyes still looking at her adoringly, that she feels a bit sheepish at being hypnotized, and so easily at that.

Elsa didn't even have to do anything…

"I'd still really like it if you get the door, Anna."

Her distraction has led to the older girl pulling her sensibilities back, causing the redhead to pout this time. The legs around her waist loosen, Elsa bringing her own body up by leaning on the bed with her elbows and giving her a quick kiss before motioning at the doorway.

Anna's sigh is long, but playful, a grouchy, "Fine…" escaping her mouth as she crawls off of the bed and towards the door. She sticks her head out into the hallway, yells at the top of her lungs, "West wing is closed!" before swinging the door shut and locking it to boot. She's mildly aware that she slams the door strongly enough to make the foundation shake a bit, but doesn't really assimilate its importance.

When she looks back at her sister, it's to the combination of hilarity and exasperation (much more of the latter) that greets her, Elsa rubbing her temples and shaking her head as the chuckles come out of smooth lips easily. The full picture of the blonde: hair mussed, lips bruised, redness setting from neck to cheeks in apparent embarrassment combined with the skirt bunched up to her skirt and her white blouse unbuttoned in delicious disarray that shows all of the contrasted alabaster skin under darkened lingerie is enough to drive the throbs spiking in her lower belly to flare, want and desire seeping through every pore in her skin.

The redhead brushes her tongue atop desert dry lips, her fingers flexing automatically at her sides as she prowls back towards the bed. Light blue eyes widen, the mirth draining from them. It doesn't take very long to get back on the bed, Anna's knees finding the relative spot between spread legs. The accosting of the suddenly bothersome underwear is just as short, her fingers grazing over soft and smooth skin as the silky, lacy thing is pulled out and tossed over her shoulder in rough abandonment.

Desire coats the air, settles deeply in her lungs and spreading the wetness already pooling in her lower half. She squashes it without another thought, her one track mind giving her a mission she must fulfill in a certain time frame. Elsa has to sleep, after all, and the more time she spends on this, the less her sister has on that.

"I kinda wish we were in my studio," she says, unlatching the skirt so she can push it up a bit more. She really likes this…Elsa with her clothes on but rumpled and all over the place and not doing a splendid job at covering intimate parts at all.

Blue eyes, now the color of a stormy ocean, look at her inquisitively.

Anna pulls the dark bra down, the soft fabric cushiony under the pads of her fingertips. Her own eyes dart from the older girl's questioning look to pert pink nipples, her salivary glands erupting in her mouth.

"I bought toys while you were gone," the redhead says, continuing her thoughts from earlier while licking her lips again. "I wanted to use them, but…I guess vanilla will have to do…for now."

Elsa groans, eyes shutting and back flopping resignedly on the bed.

Anna grins wickedly. "There's always next time, right?" The rhetoric question is met with the pursing of lips and a rough swallow. Blue eyes remain tightly closed, but that's okay. They'll open again in due time.

O—O

"Miss Andersen?"

Shit…

Anna turns towards the living room and sees Peter, brows stitched as he looks at her and then towards the exit where she's clearly headed.

"I'm just—

"Please realize that retired Navy Seals are pretty adept at spotting lies as they happen."

The redhead sighs and sees Stuart move from his seat in the living room sofa towards them, eyes gazing in scrutiny between the dark skinned man and her own.

Guess there's no need to tip toe the matter then…

"I'm going next door." She sees refute color his features which forces her thumb on, "That was not a question."

"Miss Andersen…"

"Have you been told about the situation?"

She notes the surly displeasure upon the lock of his jaw, a pulsing nerve point thumping against his skin at the tip of his temple.

"Mr. Akers has debriefed us, yes," he answers shortly, eyes narrowing by the second.

"If this guy's making threats, then I want to show him that I'm not scared."

Peter's frown merely deepens. "All the more reason for me to highly advise against it."

Anna crosses her arms atop her chest in a surely defying manner. "Well, unless you plan on literally carrying me back upstairs while I'm kicking and screaming—which I don't want to do because I finally got Elsa to sleep—I'm leaving."

The redhead notes that she has stare-downs with people quite often, but shakes the thought away, tipping her chin up with the afterthought. It takes a moment of mutual glaring before her charge sighs deeply, shakes his head, and rubs his temple with a heavy hand; the annoyed throb disappears only momentarily under the rubbing of large fingers. It makes her feel like a chastised child caught in the middle of a temper tantrum, but she stands her ground.

A dark eye opens, gazes at her in mild disapproval before asking, "Is the elder Miss Andersen aware of your trip?"

The innocent question pangs at her heart, leaves an uncomfortable feeling lodged deeply in her throat that feels strangely like betrayal.

"No."

"Last night she gave strict instructions to me and Munro that your word is law. Whatever you want we'll do and neither of us can stop you so long as we're with you in the entirety of the…activity."

Her eyes widen in surprise at the tall man's words, her heart going out to the sleeping girl upstairs. It's the first time since she's decided to go see Matthias that she actually questions it, but her mind had been made up from the start anyway.

She needs to see him…To show him that she's not afraid of what he can do, but more importantly, to drill in the fact that he cannot bully his way into her life and have his thoughtless way with her friends and family and think that he can get away with it.

Gathering a deep breath, she heads towards the door and unlocks the brass lever.

Peter's heavy groan echoes in her ears, the blast of cold air and the smell of a brewing storm entering her sinuses. Raindrops are coming down in heavy patters, thunder erupting in the near distance. She can still feel the disapproval rolling out of him in waves as he steps ahead of her, a black umbrella in hand that he opens and motions for her to get inside of. She gives him a grateful smile, one that he answers with a sigh before they step outside.

The umbrella's big enough. Anna's pretty sure they're both aware of this fact, and yet…her charge is outside of it, drenched in the summer storm. They only reach the bottommost step and it already looks like he's been showering in it for at least thirty minutes.

The redhead rolls her eyes, takes the umbrella's curved handle from his tight grip, and with the other hand drags him inside its confines, standing on her tippy toes to accommodate his tall frame. He looks at her rather sheepishly, but remains in place. She swivels her head just in time to look at Stuart who's standing a half a step behind her, also empty handed and looking just as drenched.

"If you're gonna follow us, make sure you have an umbrella…"

Is it possible to feel like a child and a mom in a timespan of five minutes?

He goes back up, wordlessly looks into the foyer, and comes back with a polka dotted umbrella that feels all sorts of wrong for him to carry before proceeding back down towards them.

The torrential downpour pelts atop the nylon canopy, splashing mud as it ricochets off of the ground and into their quiet, traveling forms. Halfway through the estate, she gives Peter the umbrella—it looks completely uncomfortable how haunched over he is just so that they can both fit and it matters little to her that the rain begins hitting her from the elbows down.

"Is there anything I can do or say to change your mind?" Peter's timbre voice beseeches at her as she unlocks the side door.

She looks over his morose features and gives a lopsided smile. "Scared that you'll be out of a job sooner than later?"

Her joke misses the mark—merely deepens the man's frown. He's certainly a sight to be reckoned with—cagey and antsy and large, looking like he's about to burst out of his body without another moment's notice. It serves to swirl the guilt already swimming in her stomach into waves. She pulls back the sigh, sets her lips to a more genuine smile when she sees the beginnings of concern coating dark brown irises and pats the tall man's muscular arms in the hopes of alleviating some of his worry.

"I just wanna talk," she explains, adding a simple careless shrug. "Something tells me that if he wanted to do something to me or Elsa, he would've done it by now."

Peter scowls, lips pursing in absolute disagreement that actually bubbles the mirth in her chest and makes her laugh loudly.

"A ridiculous and completely dangerous assumption," he mutters, but shrugs resignedly as he does so, motioning for her to go through the threshold first.

The road has an abandoned ghost town feel. Garbage litters the curbsides making it look as if everyone—reporter, protestor, or otherwise—loitering near or around her property lines had been pushed out with a nary a warning and all kinds of threats ensured for those choosing to stay.

Untrimmed hedges block the view of the estate further on, a sold realty sign hanging crookedly near a cobbled driveway and ten more meters away, a black rusted gate that seems to belong more to a cemetery entrance than the beginnings of a home.

"This places screams 'Do not enter'," Stuart murmurs beside her.

It causes her to roll her eyes before looking at him.

"Do they teach retired Navy Seals how to not be scaredy cats too," she jibes, chuckling when she sees both men bristle quietly beside her.

"Being overly cautious is preferable to jumping in blindly," Stuart states rather matter-of-factly.

She bites down a snicker dying to erupt from her mouth and smothers it with a smirk instead. She has a feeling that regardless of the noisy downpour dropping in rivulets around them that her protective detail will hear her regardless. Surely something that they've also been taught when they were training as Navy Seals.

The gate creaks ominously, the starts of a bad slasher flick going through the smaller girl's mind. She feels the two men scoot just a tad closer at each of her sides, as if the place is rigged with booby traps and they're merely waiting for them to spring out unexpectedly. It's when she reaches the first curve of the cobblestones and the bleak picture of the estate looms twenty-five yards away that she feels it—what feels like a thousand eyes bearing down on them. From her peripherals she sees Peter's knuckles flex into the arm of the umbrella before switching it over to his other hand, his free arm darting across the front of her body. They keep moving, but minimally, each passing second spreading the trepidation roiling in her gut to coil across her stomach and chest in discomfited pulses.

"I don't like this Burke," Stuart grunts, barely decipherable from the pelting rain that seems to have increased in frequency and strength since they've crossed the property line.

"Scout ahead—ten feet."

Peter's burly arm curves backwards so that he's palming her tricep, the entire left side of his body stepping a foot ahead of her. The strong sting of his aftershave reaches her nose, promises a small amount of comfort at what may be the start of a bad idea.

There's still time to turn back…her inner voice reminds her.

As if to prove her wrong, the door to the estate budges open before them, a lone middle aged man stepping forward with an umbrella in hand. He takes a brief moment to open it before stepping forward and begins taking hurried steps towards them, his free palm straight out into the open air in a universal gesture that he means no harm. It doesn't stop Stuart from returning hastily to them and for Peter to put his body directly in front of her, effectively stopping her from moving another step and blocking her view simultaneously. She bites back a sigh and moves slightly so that she can at least see the unfamiliar man, inhaling in deep stormy air in the hopes of alleviating the concern now rising like bile in her throat.

It doesn't really take long for the man to reach them, although that space of less than thirty-seconds feels like a veritable lifetime. By the time he's less than ten feet away, Anna's heart is pounding uncontrollably in her inner ears, electrified nerves wracking her entire frame and every fine hairs in each pore of her skin standing on end.

She catches his easy smile aimed solely on her, as if Peter and Stuart, regardless of their heavy builds and certainly more noticeable frames, are invisible to his eyes.

"Miss Andersen," he greets—even bows rather gentlemanly. Anna hears the thick English accent, flits her eyes over his mousy brown, short hair, light brown eyes, a well-groomed mustache, and black and white butler tuxedo and automatically sees another Kai before her. Not so much on looks, but definitely on a generalized feeling. "Mr. Christensen awaits you in the living area. I'll be the first to apologize for the abode. We are trying our best to reconstruct it to its former glory so please, pardon our mess." He pauses briefly, his smile becoming impossibly wider—more open. It doesn't escape the redhead that none of that mirth reaches his eyes. "Follow me at your convenience."

She feels the anger, frustration, and indecision rolling off of Peter's shoulders. The lattermost she makes for him. With another couple of pats on his broad shoulders, she strafes to the side and walks past the two of them, nodding at the stranger and following him into the dilapidated estate. It takes only a half a second for her charges to follow.

This certain property has been in the market for what feels like years—even before she was house hunting. Of course, because of the correlation of the two, her dad had jokingly asked her about getting this one.

"So we can be neighbors!"

Anna doubts that another place similar in area and square feet, with its many rooms, windows, and stairs, could have the markings of home like her parents estate has—couldn't possibly hold the warmth, comfort, and happiness that's been a work in progress of two generations. She susses that it would look too much like her during that portion of her life: beautiful and well-kept on the outside, but empty within.

Joke or not, it was really a no-brainer that the idea was tossed as soon as it came out. It's another reason why her studio had always been perfect; neither too big or too small, placed in the heart of the city where even if she were to ever need the headspace to think anything deep, it'd never go past her knees.

Sawdust, mildew, and paint tickles her sinuses as the door is opened lavishly for her, hammers, drills, and saws blaring out in a musical rhythm in the near distance. Her protective detail is at each of her sides as they enter, their attentions riveted to their surroundings: the floor, ceiling, every passing room. It's strange that they don't pass another living being when so much racket is being made, and although this little detail should relieve the redhead, it only serves to heighten the anxiety now fixed in her throat.

The Englishman leads them up a flight of stairs, takes a brief left, and knocks on the first door they come upon. Unlike the rest of the house, the door looks completely new, varnished in dark lacquer and carved in such intricate designs that it's obvious just from first glance that it's not a door one can find at a local hardware store.

"Come in," a strong and steady voice emits from inside.

The man opens it and bows to her one more time before stepping aside to let them pass.

A brief and rather unimportant thought flits through Anna's mind as she gets her first look of this unfamiliar man's study: everyone must share the same layout. Before her is a large, looming desk that displays blatant power, heavy tomes are arranged in some form or another inside many shelves to the left, there's a small sitting area to right—even a painting, although this one is just a bird's eye view of a vineyard. The smell of recently finished wood and lacquer is stronger here, reminding her somewhat of how the treehouse in her backyard smelled like in its infancy and, even more-so, the intricate desk her father's owned in his study for as long as she can remember. The smell is distinct, strong, encompassing…familiar…and therefore surprisingly comforting.

Behind the desk is an old man looking extremely comfortable and at home regardless of the tight suit upon his frame. The smaller girl notes the deep wrinkles setting in the creases of his eyes, forehead, and face as he gives what seems to be important paperwork in front of him a thoughtful frown. She can still see a sense of youthfulness in his olden countenance, and it's funny that she didn't really know what to expect when Elsa had told about this maniac, but a sophisticated, well dressed gentleman certainly wasn't it.

He looks up from his paperwork, his pen pausing in the middle of a swish, and the gaze he sends her way completely freezes her in place, the shivers starting from the bottom of her spine and traveling in bursts to the tips of her fingers and toes. All of her senses are urging her to run—run as far way from this place—this man—as soon as is earthly possible. So of course it would only make sense that her legs remain frozen in place, her attention locked into sharp, amused icy blue eyes while her heart drums a noisy, frantic beat in her inner ear.

"Anna Andersen." His voice is silky smooth, her name tumbling over his tongue effortlessly. He motions fluidly to the seat to his right and, just like his butler earlier, gives his undivided attention to her and her only. "Please take a seat. Have you had lunch? My chef is preparing risotto and blacked salmon—the best you've ever tasted, bar none."

Anna swallows the uncomfortable lump lodged in her throat, her head shaking its refute to his offer even before assimilating the meaning of his words. She stills her shaky hands into resolute fists, giving a quick glance to Peter and Stuart who are still standing a half a step behind her. She wills her breaths to come in much steadier, squares her shoulders, and looks back up to the old man.

"This isn't a social call."

She's almost surprised that her words come out without cracking or stuttering, and the old man responds with merely smiling wider, eyes a silver glint in the dim lighting. He pushes the paper before him aside, thin fingers making a steeple under his chin and an amused smirk splashing atop his bony features.

"Indeed." The words, although whisper-like, ricochets against the sturdy walls of the quiet enclosure. He gestures for the chair again, his smile lessening only slightly, but it doesn't stop Anna from feeling as if all the heat in the room has been sucked out. "Sit." He gives her another fleeting glance before darting his attention to her protective detail, his eyes narrowing infinitesimally as they sweep over the two gentlemen. "The two of you, on the other hand, are not to step another foot forward. Understand that I am only allowing you to be in here with Miss Andersen. That is my choice, not yours. Nor is it hers. If you want her to remain in your line of sight for the duration of her time here, you will obey my words and stay."

The change in his voice is jarring—a complete one-eighty to the silky, almost friendly tone he was using when speaking to the redhead mere seconds ago. In comparison, his tone is steely, coated with no nonsense and brimming in dangerous promises. And a part of Anna knows that his words, especially under this roof, are godsend, and there's no way in hell she'd allow the two men behind her to endanger themselves because of a ridiculous notion like pride.

"Stay where you are," she says firmly without looking at them, and begins walking to the desk. She hears the grumbling discontent but continues further on when neither of them make any kind of movement to suggest they've disregarded her words.

Those icy blue eyes are on hers again, sparkling in blatant curiosity. Her inner mind is attempting to placate her with banalities, but it's not very reassuring that the only thing she has going for her is knowing without a shadow of a doubt that Mr. Christensen may by dangerous to others, but he has not made any hints of being so with her and Elsa.

She's not stupid enough to think this isn't a tentative arrangement.

Reaching the chair, she sits down at its edge, her spine rigidly straight and uncomfortable, but it's not as if comfort is anything she was expecting here anyway.

Just plow on. Maybe make a dent.

"You're the one who hurt Mel."

There's no sugarcoating, no prelude, no niceties, and part of her is almost proud at garnering a wide eyed look of surprise from the older man complete with the raising of his brows. She susses, this doesn't happen often.

Matthias leans back into his chair, the fine wood creaking into his half-slouch and drowned immediately by the pounding rain upon the rooftop. He leans his face against the heel of his palm, his head shaking in tandem.

"I am not."

His casual denial flares the muted anger sitting in her chest, pushing away the nervousness and soft warning all the way back in the recess of her mind where it's easier to forget. She's merely reminded of an unconscious friend, laying in the hospital's ICU, and fighting for his life.

"Before you let irrational anger cloud your thoughts—

"Irrational? Irrational?!"

Before Anna's even's aware of her actions she's rocketed out of her chair, the palms of her hand banging on the surface of the desk and emitting what sounds like a thunderclap to ring all across the room. Movement flourishes around her, Stuart and Peter rushing at her sides, but her vision is tunneled to the old man who only keeps his open stare aimed at her.

"Now you listen here…"

Matthias' attention drifts, icicle eyes narrowing as he glares at Peter hovering over her right shoulder and gives Stuart even less. His lips curl in obvious displeasure, his head cocking back up as he straightens his body atop his chair.

"What did I say earlier?"

His query is dangerously quiet, and if it isn't for the frustration itching to burst in her throat, Anna would think twice of it. She manages to rein something in though, some semblance of control that she must've gotten from Elsa inadvertently.

The older girl had always been a remarkable source for good influence.

"Move back," she seethes, her hands rolling into balls and her fingernails scratching the surface of the fine wood mid-action. The need to hit something (anything) passes through her mind, but she barely holds it back with an audible grit of her teeth and clamping of her jaw. "Stuart, Peter…move back. I won't ask again. Neither will he."

She can feel the refute rolling in waves between the two men, but continues to look at Matthias who's now openly glaring at the dark man beside her. It takes a loaded few seconds until the bodies begin moving back, albeit slowly, and only when their shuffles has ceased for a full five-seconds does the old man inhale a deep breath and look at her again, his creased features smoothing into false cheer.

"If that happens again, your opinion of me will hit rock bottom," he says with a grin that doesn't match his words at all. "Put your dogs in a tight leash or they will be put down, do we have an understanding Anna?"

His familiarity with her name stirs unpleasantness and combines it with the anxiety and anger already coiling in her gut. Half moons are biting upon the surface of her palms from her shaky hands, but she merely tosses the little bit of pain aside, unimportant as it is.

"You're the worst kind of person," she hisses, her words low enough that it's a possibility only the two of them can hear it.

He sits straightly, elbows resting on the armchair and coming up again in front of him in a steeple. "You don't get to be where I am without getting your hands dirty, little girl."

"I want you to stop hurting my friends." The words roll out with purpose. "Before you say anything—before you begin denying what we both know, here's my hand and I'm laying it out for you to see. I treasure the ties I have with the people around me. Especially now that I can sort the real from the fake. You don't…" She trails off, feels the fire clawing from her chest and roaring in her ears, and closes her eyes to calm the rage steadily brimming and close to overflowing. She opens them again when she feels a small, but perceptible semblance of control and locks her stare with serious, steady blues. "You do not have the power to control them at your whim. You won't hurt my friends again. Any of them. I won't let you."

"Pray tell me, what can you do to stop me?"

The screech of her nails digging into the desk resounds between them. Other than that…nothing more. And she's quite aware he knows this of her: that he has an upper hand because all her weaknesses are laid bare for him to see and dissect and meanwhile…he's a king sitting atop a tower of an indestructible fortress.

So why hasn't she and Elsa been stepped on like bugs underneath his boot?

"What do you want Matthias?"

She can see that more than the question, the way she calls him so informally quirks his lips—pulls them up into not quite a smirk, but certainly an entertained smile. It feels like the most genuine look she's seen atop his face since they've met face to face.

"So if I'm to believe your words from before, I'd gather that you're a pretty good friend."

Anna can feel her patience slipping through her pores. "I'd like to think so," she answers instead, pulling the retort back from crawling out of her throat.

"And you're willing to pay whatever price for the protection of your friends."

She notes that he isn't asking, but tags on regardless, "For the promise to leave them alone unconditionally, yes."

Interest colors his features, dropping consternation upon her own.

"In every one of my business transactions, I've always been a high purveyor of getting what you pay for." He smiles widely, white teeth and all and gets up swiftly from his chair, walking to the right of the desk and with both hands locked at the base of his spine, turns to watch the storm brewing in his backyard. "It's a good business arrangement, yes?" he continues momentarily, not sparing her a glance. "Everyone maintains a sense of peacefulness and happiness, and we can gain a bit of…trust…when the exercise is complete with overlying degrees of success."

The smaller girl keeps her silence, merely watches the old man and the sprays of raindrops pelting loudly at the wide windows. Whatever he has to say, a simple 'no' is already bursting to resound at the tip of her tongue.

"What I propose, along with the promise of keeping your friends and acquaintances as far excluded from this entire affair as possible, is their unconditional protection."

His sentence piques her attention, the 'no' slowly dying in her throat.

He turns back to her, back straight, features pulled into taut moroseness, and eyes boring right through her own.

"Protection?" her barely firing synapses manage to connect between her mind lock.

Matthias nods and steps closer, clears the edge of the desk and stands until they're only a couple of feet apart. "Unconditional," he repeats, voice like silk and still holding no warmth. "If anyone even attempts to hurt them—the Bjorgman brothers, the Sullivans, even Elsa's classmates in LA—I will expel punishment beyond reckoning. I am a man of my word, after all. In a world like mine, reputation supersedes everything. And a man who can't keep his end of a bargain in a small arrangement like this has no place in this business.

"I will hire the men…or if Elsa or you feel it necessary, you can take care of the hiring process—trust issues and everything notwithstanding. I'll pay their salaries, keep them rotated so that each guard is in top condition per schedule. Anything and everything you and your sister wants…I'll uphold right down to the letter…so long as your end is met and exceeded."

"Is it just me, or does it seem ridiculously stupid to even hear what you want to say?" Anna finds herself asking rather rhetorically. She brushes the anxiety gnawing in her stomach aside and pushes on—even smirks for good measure—in the hopes of denting this infallible man's confidence. "You're the reason why my friends are in danger. You videotaped—

"I usually don't make it a habit to repeat words that have already been uttered, but for you, I will make an exception this time, and this time only. What happened to Melborn Sullivan was the work of angry religious fanatics who are crazy enough to hurt people regardless of innocence or even proof of any misdeed. They're angry of what they feel is a defiled god and seek retribution. Who better to pay for that than the opposition?

"What I did, what I've done, and what I'll continue to do is profit off of their lunacy. The world—people in general are like…toddlers. There is a minority that has already graduated to higher level thinking and can produce an opinion when given a fact and question it. They're the people who can think for themselves—see a news program and can differentiate between the facts and the half-truths and see the blatant differences. Then, there's the brilliantly moronic majority. Show them something, tell them it's bad, and they'll believe it. Show them another thing, tell them it's good this time, and they'll believe it. Sheep…the whole lot. You literally have to shove something in their face for them to understand it.

"And that's what I'm doing…catering to the stupid majority because they have the loudest voices.

"In less than an hour, we will finally have a division of this repeal. People will finally stop seeing it in black and white and when they start seeing the colors and shapes and different hues, I will be there, force-feeding them the ugliness of human nature until there's only one course of action remaining. You may not see it now, but you will understand in due time that I, while fittingly evil in your perspective, remain the best and closest ally you have in this entire affair. I'm not fighting for anyone else, but for your parents' cause. You and your sister just happen to be for it. I said this to her and I'll say it to you: I don't care who gets crushed under the wheels. If this repeal goes through in the end, it matters little to me who suffers for it.

"So…take the deal. Because it's fleeting, and I'm having a pretty good day so far and I'm feeling…generous. Take the deal and protect your friends, because if the future videos show any of them, I will not hesitate to say, rather blithely, 'I told you so'."

His monologue washes over her, indecision and the need to smack him because of his callous disregard for people in general fighting a silent war in her mind. "So you won't stop them."

Matthias shakes his head, a flickering look of apology painting his face before his features smooth out to indifference. "They are doing quite a good job of burning the world without help or prodding and I need that stupidity to continue forward."

Anna swallows the difficult lump down her throat, her mind's eye once again giving her the dimly lit hospital room, Mel's still sleeping form, and Sidney's certainly thinning frame bent over his bedside in silent, wracking sobs. She looks up towards light blue eyes watching her in unabashed scrutiny, her fingers coming up towards a throbbing temple and rubbing the bridge of her nose with her open palm.

"What do you want?" The irritated question comes out during a rough rub to her eyelids and white spots are dancing in her view.

"An interview. You and Elsa speaking with a reporter of my choice."

Her eyes open, vision swimming of dark mahogany hardwood floors. "It'll obviously be recorded and shown."

"Obviously."

"You do realize answering any and all questions pertaining to our relationship is already an admission of guilt…"

"The interview will be in Jersey and the two of you can stay there for the remainder of this repeal. The council will decide in a week whether it constitutes editing. If they decide on your favor, you and Elsa may be able to come back to New York without fear of sentencing. Their decision is locked next Saturday as far as I know." He smirks, as if the whole thing is making him extremely giddy. "Just in time for your gallery event."

"What a happy coincidence," she mutters, sarcasm coating every word. "I want the interview after the council decides."

"No," he answers quite firmly.

He moves around her and her unoccupied chair and takes the one on the right, crossing his legs as he sits atop it. She turns, follows every one of his movements so that they're still facing one another at the end of it. He gestures to her open seat and makes it a point not to continue until she's seated as well.

"Everything must be laid out before Saturday," he continues as soon as she's teetering over its edge. "What I do…what we do prior to then will be the deciding factor the council needs to make the right decision. Right now, do you feel as if your view is the one favorable to the general population, least of all a group of people in charge of rewriting a one hundred year old law? No. The acting author has done a good job validating the whys, but right now, where we're sitting, it makes little sense to change it. Apart from a handful of people, everyone else is oppose to it and why shouldn't they be? Everyone's in a rough agreement that this is bad—that it'll open up a can of worms for more repeals on old statutes that have been the cornerstone of this country's upbringing. People get so stuck in the past that they do not make room for anything in the future."

Silence surrounds them, Matthias' words slowly making sense even though she doesn't want them to.

"If you and Elsa do not pose for this interview this week, you'll miss the opportunity to show the world who you are—what your relationship really means. Because you can say that it's consensual and that you're both doing it out of love or…you can show it. I don't think I have to teach you the importance of how many words a picture supposedly has. An entire video of it?" He chuckles, the mirth finally dancing in his eyes. "I don't think people will know what to do with the two of you…"

"Doesn't sound like a good thing."

He shrugs. "Better to be a martyr fighting for the cause than to be invisible and not be heard."

A shuffle gathers both of their attentions to the doorway, Matthias' version of Englishman Kai standing at the foot of it holding a tray laden with food. It causes Anna to stand up, her mind heavy with thoughts of what to tell Elsa when she gets home and how the taller girl will react to the news she's bringing.

"I wish you'd stay for lunch."

The redhead sighs, watching the butler from the corner of her eye making room for two placemats and setting similar looking plates atop them. She didn't really have lunch yet, but…

"I have to go home to Elsa," she answers simply, mind distracted and doing a helluva good job taking her out of this room.

"Speaking of, I'm surprised she's not here…or that she even condoned you coming here to see me," he says with a knowing smirk, gathering a folded napkin and placing the cloth over his legs.

Her small reply makes her feel sheepish, her shoe scuffling the ground as she states, "She's sleeping…"

Matthias chuckles. "I'm afraid I didn't leave her with the best impression."

"Ruthless psychopaths rarely do."

He tips his wine glass at her in cheer before sipping its contents. "Speak with her of my proposition and let me know what the two of you decide. It goes without saying that the more time you spend on decision making, the higher chance your friends have of becoming more involved in this than they have to be."

She nods, albeit thoughtlessly, her glance falling upon the older man. The words are out without much thought. "What're you getting out of this?"

The question straightens his features into nonchalance, making the next question barrel through her mouth that much easier.

"What did my parents do for you to owe them so much?"

He smiles, and it surprises her how different this expression looks amidst all the ones he's been wearing like a mask since her arrival. His features are softer—makes him look so much younger, and the small upward quirk of the corner of his lips paints him in a remarkably vulnerable manner.

"Nothing," he answers simply, shrugging for good measure and yet it falls short of the casualness he's trying to assume. "Helene and Alex merely showed me that upon given the opportunity, if a person seizes it and takes full advantage without a backwards look, anything is possible."

The hint of sadness in his tone piques her interest—shines him in an another spotlight altogether that leaves the redhead just a bit boggled.

"I was at the funeral," he announces softly, his smile pensive and melancholic. "Your eulogy was every bit fitting of a child that loved her parents very much. Maybe in another time or another place, you and I can swap stories of them. You've probably heard this too many times since their passing, but…they really were great people. Given the chance and opportunity…I strongly believe they could've changed me—my thoughts, my views, my life." His gaze falls, hardens back into icicles. He reaches for the fork and cradles it upon his hand, scooping a healthy amount of risotto on its surface. His eyes pass through the wide windows, seeing past the rainstorm and dancing of the trees swaying with the violent wind. "But life is rarely so accommodating," he murmurs, and begins eating.

And just like that she feels summarily dismissed. He hasn't said anything that would hint it, but she certainly feels it just from his body language. He wants to be left alone, and although more questions are dancing at the tip of her tongue praying for release, she knows she's certainly overstayed her welcome. It doesn't stop her from pondering though…

How is it possible for this man with his repertoire and notoriety to even speak justly of her parents like they're old friends? As if it physically hurt him to have them die? It's not the first time she's questioned just how much she knows her parents. Someone like him should be happy or at least indifferent of their passing, and yet…the exact opposite could be said.

And if this meeting teaches her anything it's that he genuinely wants to see this repeal through, and willing to do anything to see to its fruition. At the expense of innocent lives and people…

Her thought process rages on even a couple hours later, eyes watching the pouring rain from her bedroom, body bent over her desktop and a book aiding tomorrow's final open before her, but given little to no attention. So lost in thought is she that she doesn't discern the shuffling of Elsa's wakening form, merely continues the rhythmic tap tap tap of her pencil against the surface of the book and looks beyond the rain, the yard, the gate, and towards the hedges, mind brimming of the old man behind the dilapidated estate.

"Anna?"

The call startles her even though it's soft and meant to be unobtrusive. The pencil teeters from her fingers, rolls towards the book, and becomes caught in its wedge—certainly not enough time for her erase the confusion and deep thought etched upon her features. Anna tries though…even if she's never been good at not wearing her heart on her sleeves, and smiles, knowing it's not sitting quite as naturally at this point in time than it normally should, but not really knowing how to rectify the situation.

It's not as if she means to hide this from her sister anyway…

She splays both arms forward—a universal wordless gesture to ask Elsa to step forward and in, because more than anything, she needs to feel the taller girl's supple form underneath her hands—hold her and ascertain without reasonable doubt that she's here indefinitely.

The blonde looks beautiful in nothing more than a halfway buttoned blouse, alabaster skin peeking through supple cleavage and the same dark underwear that makes her legs go on endlessly. A few hours ago the same picture roared intensity in her ears and pounded her heart against her chest in a war cry. Right now, it's muted—caged into such stillness that she can only hear the heaviness of her breaths in an attempt to scour the little that's left of her scattered mind.

The worries ease a little as Elsa's lithe form melds with her own, the smell of fresh flowers and soft lotion filtering through her nose as her hands clasp and meet together at the base of her sister's spine and her head finds its home between the valley of the taller girl's breasts. She can feel protective arms gather her head in, Elsa's body bending as a soft kiss is placed upon the crown of her head followed by meticulous fingers uncoiling her braid slowly into wavy tresses.

Anna swallows the dryness down her throat, the firm grip upon her sister's waist tightening.

"I went to see Matthias."

The straightening of Elsa's back is palpable, the questing of her fingers stopping mid-movement. The redhead draws her in further, forehead resting on a firm sternum and her eyes shutting as the blonde's hand finds her face, thumbs ghosting over her cheekbones. Anna can feel the silent query from her sister, finds that she has to answer it and risk seeing the disappointment she doesn't want to see from obviously doing something she shouldn't have, and opens her eyes.

Instead she finds concern, light blues darting over her own as if finding answers to questions that haven't been uttered.

"Nothing happened," Anna says, her voice sounding strained and quiet and drowned almost immediately from the torrential downpour splattering raindrops against the rooftop. "I'm alright."

Elsa's shoulders loosen somewhat, her body language uncoiling, yet the concern still flashes brightly over her eyes.

"He wants to make a deal with us."

She sighs, fingers coming up to brush copper bangs back and her gaze drifting towards the window, no doubt beyond the hedges and gate and possibly even through the sorry looking estate.

"What does he want?" she finally asks, and Anna can't help but see the weight of the world on her shoulders, responsibility worn like an old coat.

And she can't help, but berate herself that this couldn't wait—that Elsa can't even have five minutes upon waking and not be reminded of their helpless situation. She must've taken too long with her introspection because the older girl looks over her again, the question still written on her face and causing the redhead to sigh.

"I spoke with Sidney," she says instead of answering, her eyes drifting over to the clock and noting the already late hour. It's already close to an early supper more than lunch and neither of them had eaten much at all the entire day. "I told her we'd bring something for dinner."

The older girl doesn't say anything about the sudden change in topic. She merely takes a moment to absorb what Anna's said and then nods before expelling a heavy inhale, her fingers coming up to button the rest of her blouse. The smaller girl uncoils her hands, moves away just enough to give her space to step back and watches her silently as she gets ready, eyeing the articles of clothing as they cover the blonde little by little. A haphazard bun placed five minutes later and she looks as ready as she can, still quite beautiful in any standard that leaves Anna feeling a bit sheepish and, more than anything, concerned.

"Are you angry?"

The redhead doesn't see this specifically from Elsa's facial expression, but a part of her wants to be absolutely sure, and she feels a bit of relief when the concern washes away from that regal face and an understanding smile graces it. The blonde walks towards her again, steps back in her embrace, and finishes unbraiding her hair.

"No," the taller girl finally answers, the small ministrations spreading pleasurable tingles atop Anna's scalp. "If he wanted to do something to either of us, it would've been done by now."

"That's what I said!"

"It still does not stop it from being a foolish thing to do though."

Anna curls her lips into a well placed pout, the chastise small enough that she doesn't really feel it, but knowing it'll help her cause. The exasperated smile that greets her lightens the load in her chest, makes her grin when Elsa pinches her cheeks and gives her a small, but quick peck on her mouth.

"Next time, please at least tell me of your intentions instead of—

"Using sex to tire you out so I can pursue my evil plans?"

Her sister sighs, eyes narrowing just a little. "Is that what you did?"

"Noooo…"

Elsa rolls her eyes, but the smile is sitting prettily on her features so Anna feels as if she's dodged a bullet.

There's something to be said about celebrating early.

"Regardless of your…tactics," her sister continues, countenance pulling morosely and beseechingly, "I'd really love it if you involved me in something so…extreme next time. I rushed head on into meeting him because I didn't know who he was and what he stood for. After finding out, a heavy dose of fear wasn't a bad thing. I was hoping I could somehow iterate that to you without having to say so. Next time, I'll just say it instead of dancing around the topic. More than protecting me…I need you to take care of yourself, Anna. That is my number one priority. And maybe protecting me is yours, but you'd be doing both by doing the first."

And now she feels properly chastised, the squeezing of her heart intermittently pushing the lodge aching in her throat. She can't keep their locked stares without the guilt pounding away at her insides, so her gaze defers downwards until she's staring at a button at her eye level, trying her damnedest not to pout at it.

A soft hand gathers around her chin, tilting her face up until she and Elsa are once again face to face. A warm smile greets her, the small reprimand all but a memory.

"We're a team, you and I. No more one-man crusades, alright? I wouldn't know what to do if something were to happen to you. I'm sure you feel the same way with me."

She does. Definitely. Beyond a doubt. So she nods wordlessly, because that's really the only thing she can do.

"Sidney's waiting for us so we better get going."

A knock resounds through the door as if on cue, Elsa's smile widening above her before the taller girl leans forward and gives her a small, short kiss on the lips. She keeps a small hold over her face, thumbs brushing upon her lips absentmindedly as she shouts, "Come in" towards the direction of the door.

Kai pokes his head out, looks around, and gives the two of them a small look followed by an understanding smile. "Shall I start the car?"

Elsa nods, using her fingers to brush out the rest of Anna's copper braids bore meticulously putting them in place. "News?" she asks as she helps the redhead up wordlessly and leads the two of them out of the room, hands clasped upon the other.

"Nothing good," Kai says with a heavy sigh and waits until he's only a step away from them before walking forward as well. "Mr. Christensen called. He gave an exact time for when the video will be released—in roughly forty-five minutes. An old friend from NYPD, the same one that contacted me when Mr. Sullivan was injured, also called about five minutes ago."

Elsa's hand locked with her own tightens noticeably. "You've found the next target?"

The old man's frown deepens. "George Klemmer. Same MO—beaten by a group of people and found in a remote area. This time at the end of a trail in Lake Serene. He's…he's not in good condition. I didn't think it was possible for it to be worse, but…he certainly qualifies."

Anna pushes the guilt back (something she's sure Elsa doesn't want her to dwell on) and focuses on this new information. She doesn't see the folder tucked in Kai's other arm until he has it out and opened, a man's New York State driver's license poking out in the first page. She's greeted with short gray hairs, flinty eyes, and a hard smirk that strikes easy familiarity. She grabs it thoughtlessly with her free hand—eyes raking through the grainy picture and with all her effort tries to drown the dread eating away at her insides.

"He was at the rally too," she says, her steps faltering to a slow until the three of them stop completely at the top of the stairwell. "He…he was with a girl." She looks up at Elsa who's eyeing her with deepening concern. "Granddaughter…or niece—something. Mel was angry that he showed up…because the girl had just turned eighteen…"

She didn't have to finish the rest for it to make sense to either of them. She can tell by the pursing of Elsa's lips and the small disapproving shake from Kai that they understand exactly where it's coming from.

"Well…he was in a sorry state when they found him," Kai continues and begins descending the stairs all the while glancing over his shoulder at the two of them who begins following without another moment's hesitancy. "Same thing as what happened to Mr. Sullivan only with one obviously added injury." He stops speaking momentarily, maybe to gauge if he should finish the ill begotten news. Shrugging, maybe finding the answer in himself, he plants a firm step onto the first floor landing and brushes a heavy hand over the top of his bald spot. "Castration," he says with a deep sigh. "An improper one from the sordid details given to me. It's still not known why his punishment is much more violent than Mr. Sullivan's, but something tells me that the video to be released at a later date will say everything we need to know."

Anna endeavors to shake the anger and horror burdening her chest, the words, "They're obviously targeting the people who were in the rally," almost a whisper when it comes out of her lips.

Elsa nods determinedly, her thumb brushing the backside of her palm in an effort to comfort her. "We're completing a screening process for more bodyguards. Until then, we stretch their hours—

"We need to take the deal."

They've stopped completely at the middle of the landing, the living room to their left and the foyer just ahead. Peter and Stuart await at the doors, silent and observing with apt curiosity.

"What…deal?" Kai asks after a pregnant pause, chocolate eyes darting between the two of them. It dawns on him when neither of them would look his way, a tired sigh erupting from worried lips. "You went to see Matthias."

Anna shakes off the impending guilt attack and locks eyes with Elsa. "He promised to keep them out of it—all of them. Sven, Kristoff—even Andrew and Hayley and Kareem. He won't lay a hand on them. Even more, he'll protect them. He says if we don't trust him with that we can choose the protective detail—

"Considering he's the one who's behind the massacres—

"He's not Elsa. He's just…he's capitalizing in the idea that when provoked people do stupid things for…for whatever it is that they believe in. He…he might be getting the videos from another source, but he's not choosing the targets. Even more, he's not controlling what they do. He's just reaping from their stupid decisions. He doesn't care who gets hurt. You and I both know this. He needs us for something so he can't hurt us…yet, but he definitely has no need for our friends. To him they're just collateral damage. Neither of us can have another incident like Mel's happening to the small amount of people we care about. This repeal will mean nothing if it's to the expense of our friends getting hurt because they trusted us or believed in what we stood for."

It's deathly quiet after her beseeching words, Elsa's face scrunching into deep worrying creases and her lips mashed into uncertainty. And Anna understands where the trepidation is coming from because she feels it too—every ounce of her. Why trust him? Why trust someone who's readily and vocally able to do harm with no other incentive than 'because he wants to'?

"How do we know he'll live up to his end of the bargain?" the taller girl ends up asking, eyes imploring her for a good answer because she definitely needs one.

And of course the redhead doesn't have one. She doesn't know…Neither of them do. Criminals are notorious for backhanded deals and serpent-like words. Matthias isn't any different. And yet…

"He will."

The words don't come from her. Their heads whip to Kai simultaneously, his eyes stalwart even as his lips curl in displeasure at his own words.

"If he's made you a deal, he will live up to his end. If there's any noble quality left in him…this is it."

Anna doesn't question how he knows this—just watches as the words wash over Elsa's features, observes how they teeter her decision and influence her into the one the smaller girl is pleading for.

"What does he want?"

The question is barely asked in a whisper, but Anna's ears pick it up and she answers almost in tandem, "An interview—his reporter of choice. He promises to leave all our friends out of it and even more-so provide utmost protection. He was pretty adamant about keeping their safety as the only priority if we're to concede and cooperate fully."

"Miss Anna, I'm sorry but that's the worst thing he can ask for."

The redhead reins in a sigh aching to release from the depths of her throat and tugs at Elsa's hand even though the taller girl's undivided attention is already on her. "We might as well tell the entire country we're guilty. That's what I told him too, but…" She trails off, the words dying in her mouth. The overpowering feeling of helplessness seizes her again, and she hates how regardless of anything either of them do that it's just not good enough. They can sit around for hours on end and debate good tactical maneuvers in and around this repeal so that no one can get hurt or neither of them will give themselves up and yet…

Nothing. All for naught.

The back of Elsa's fingers brush over her cheeks softly, causing her attention to gather towards a considerate look upon her sister's features.

"I understand," she says softly, giving a small smile as her thumb brushes over the nuances of Anna's face. "We'll speak of it more later…privately. The decision is between the two of us, after all. Right now, Sidney needs us so that's where we'll be. We'll thin out who we have so that each person has at least one bodyguard. One for Kristoff, one for his brother, a couple for both Mel and Sid, and one for you—

"And you."

Elsa smiles, but doesn't correct her. "As I said earlier, I'll be with Kai most of the time and when I'm not I'm usually with you. But…to placate you…yes. One for me too. That's twelve people total switching per twelve hour rotation. Right now, we have six. The incidents are specific to New York State so I don't feel it necessary to protect anyone else…At least not until Monday at which time Kareem also arrives and people may associate me with him and his mother's practice."

Elsa sighs, shuts her eyes in a tired, strong blink, and opens them again, her gaze falling on their charge. "Kai, please have more candidates picked out by tonight."

"I also have people—some friends and old colleagues that may be interested," Peter says from against the wall.

Anna turns her head and gives him a small, but grateful grin.

Elsa merely nods. "Thank you Mr. Burke. I certainly appreciate that." Light blues fall back on her own, fingers coming up to clamp a strand of her hair and fold it back behind her ears. "Call Kristoff. Ask him to come to the hospital if he's free so that he may be informed of all that's happening. Ask for his brother as well. If neither are available, we can send both Burke and Munro out to find them and watch over them until they're able to meet up with us. I hope to set your mind at ease by doing this, but if it's not enough…there's still the deal to finalize. If Kai says Mr. Christensen makes good on his promises, then I have no doubt that he will. It sounds as if you believe this too…and if I can't trust either of your judgments, I can't trust anyone or anything."

After hearing everything that needs to be said, Anna's struck with the rare case of immobility. A part of her wants to kiss Elsa senseless because she's just…How in the world can someone handle something like this with the poise and sensibility and just straightforward understanding that the older girl just seems to exude effortlessly? How is she not flying off the handle when she learns that her sister completely went behind her back and had casual conversation with the enemy, of all people? How…

Her head swivels to Kai, a small smile making its home in his chubby face probably because he can read what she's about to say.

"She's real right?"

Elsa huffs as he chuckles, nodding in tandem.

"Even when I go off deliberately disobeying her—

"You're quoting Mufasa? Really?"

"She's still fuzzy as a peach!"

"I have no idea what that means and I don't think you do either. It may be safe to say it has zero meaning. Come. The sooner we can get out, the sooner we can come home and discuss your indiscretions and go back to this whole 'deliberately disobeying' thing."

The words coupled with Elsa's regally haughty look is most likely supposed to be chastising, but when aimed at the smaller girl and compared to the real one she's just experienced, merely has a comical effect.

She smirks and elbows the blonde's side as they begin crossing the foyer. "The better idea is role-playing instead. You can be Mufasa and I can be Scar."

Elsa huffs again, looking quite ruffled as red spots begin creeping up from her neck and paints her cheeks in a lovely crimson shade. "He says it to Simba…"

"I don't wanna role-play as Simba, that's just weird."

"Scar and Mufasa are brothers…you understand this, right?"

Anna shows her pearly whites in what she hopes is an endearing grin. "Works out perfectly for us then."

A clearing of throats sounds behind them, and she can't make out whether it's Peter or Stuart, but it tickles her to know that people are listening in regardless.

"You make me very glad I made everyone working for us sign a non-disclosure agreement…"

"I think it'd be okay if you didn't."

She looks back at Peter who's eyeing the two of them with barely concealed mirth that he tries to pull back into forced nonchalance. Stuart is faring a bit better than him, but not by much. And it's these little moments that Anna wishes she can share with the world. Show what's beyond the repeal and debates. Because without all of it, she and her sister (and she hopes everyone else in the same situation) are just two people—girls that want to be together. A taboo in and of itself once upon a time.

She wonders if that's all it really takes: time. Time for people to see that some matters just need to stay between two people. So long as the foundation isn't built on violence, manipulation, or abuse. She wishes of a way for outsiders to really get the chance to know them the way their friends and (even though they haven't said a thing about it) Stuart and Peter know them. She doesn't think it takes too long to see past all the ugliness most people associate with their relationship and just see who they are and what they're fighting for. Because given the chance and opportunity, anyone would fight for the one they love, right?

Elsa's smile is radiant as Kai offers her an umbrella, their hands joining at the curve of the rod when she opens the nylon canopy over their hu