Quick A/N: Hey guys!

So listen, I know what I said about not having time. And I don't heh. But I wanted to offer you all this before I just left. So please, send in your thoughts on this and I'll get back around to posting just as soon as I can.

I don't plan on this being overly long, but then again we all saw what that attitude got me got 'All For Her' haha. So we'll see. And I'll try to reel in the angst a tad bit, but it's what I'm best at. So don't expect it to all be fantastically fluffy the entire time.

Thanks guys! As always, I'll keep posting as long as you all keep up! -Sara

A growl of frustration left her lips as she furiously backspaced. There was no way any place would accept an application as confusing as what she had just written up. It was a disaster, the result of a lack of attention.

Downstairs, she could faintly hear clashes, even the occasional bang. Glancing at the clock on her monitor, she frowned. Only two in the afternoon and already her mother was downing booze left and right. Wouldn't be long before she crashed on the sofa, sobbing herself to sleep.

It had scared Elsa once, terrified her really. But now it was like some sadistic comfort. As long as her mother was doing her thing, Elsa was allowed to be herself. Shut off from everyone, not forced to reign in her own emotions, not having to pretend she cared.

With a click of her tongue her eyes glued themselves to the screen once more. This place paid twice as much as her current occupation as a waitress. And it was at the edge of town, giving her an excuse to be out longer and farther away.

A sudden loud shattering sounded, basically right beneath her room, making her jump unexpectedly. Her heart leaped to her throat a second, then it slowly sank in despair when loud, slurred cuss words were screamed up. Followed by an order.

"Elsa? Get your sorry ass down here, now!" Her mother's voice was ice, or glass. It dug into her back and sliced up her spine, making her entire body tense and her muscles twitch as she stood.

She went ahead and exited the website, knowing she probably wouldn't be back up here for a while, before grudgingly treading out her bedroom and down the hall. It was a small house, left by her father before he was KIA. The walls were gray, ceiling an off white. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, nothing to be called décor between the narrow frames.

The stairs were in bad shape, creaking noisily as she trudged down them, as was the living room she stepped in. Torn couch from a dog they'd had years ago, single slightly tilted coffee table and mismatching recliner chairs. And the flat screen tv had gone so long without use she doubted it worked.

She crossed over the threshold to the kitchen just to the left of the stairs, greeted with a disastrous state.

Two of the worn out wooden chairs they used with their makeshift dining table were toppled and tossed, the table clothe laying bunched in the floor. Utensils that had been in the dish rack were now on the counter and in the sink. And the one decent vase they'd had reserved for this room alone was laying in jagged, menacing pieces by the counter.

Her mother was in a ball by the trash can, clutching a bottle three fourths gone and sobbing her lungs out onto the cold, flaking linoleum.

Elsa's mind could care less, seeing as how this was an almost daily occurrence. But her heart still reached out for the lonely, decrepit widow. She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to sit alone with her thoughts eating away at her.

Elsa knew that feeling all too well.

Fear caused the slightest of hesitation, but then she stepped forward and found the movement easier. She could do this.

Her mother seemed to curl further in on herself when the blonde's gently touch reached out. Elsa kneeled and took a firm but careful hold on the woman's arm, feeling how hot she was beneath her palm.

The woman looked up, through tangled and wild hair, up with red rimmed bloodshot eyes of confusion and distortion. Her cracked lips formed her late husband's name, but no words came forth. Instead, a sob reverberated, and she let her head fall with a dull thud.

Elsa swallowed back her nausea at the overwhelming stench of alcohol that invaded her nostrils, reaching out and gently tugging the open and sloshing bottle from between clenched hands, sitting it aside before she moved up and over her mother to sit with her back to the counter.

She eased her mother's trembled by caressing her hair, not at all surprised when the woman inched up to lay her head on her daughter's lap, breath evening but still deep.

And Elsa continued her feather light touches, bringing as much comfort as she could when she herself wanted to cry at the sight before her. How was this fair? How could it be real? She loved her mother, she did. And she knew she loved her, in her own way.

This was the only time they ever truly got along though, and that hurt. It hurt a lot.

Elsa bit back the tightness growing in her chest and throat and laid her head back to rest against a counter that smelled of the cleaner she'd used on it earlier that morning.

And she hummed. A broken tune that she faintly recalled her father humming to her to lull her to sleep.

She felt her mother relaxing. Elsa knew the second her poor mother fell asleep.