A/N: I'll try not to make any promises I can't keep, but I should have more writing time in the future.

xxXxx

So maybe Elsa's fear isn't as consuming as Anna first thought it to be, but it at least feels that way coming through their bond.

If there's one thing Anna's learned over the past week of Elsa being open, it's that this whole mental thing takes a lot more stamina than she imagined it would. It feels like her mind is being stretched every day just to make more room for Elsa. They're not even exchanging anything significant, haven't even gone near Elsa's past or memories yet, but by the end of each day Anna's more than ready to collapse on the nearest soft surface and just turn everything off.

The first few days were exciting, she could hear Elsa's dumb thoughts just as much as Elsa could hear hers, and she'd know when she was upset, and for the most part why she was upset. But the first few days Elsa was just testing the water, must have been, because after that it's like everything intensified. Anna's actually found herself briefly entertaining the idea of going back to how things were before.

It's just that keeping up with Elsa is almost as draining as it is rewarding. Everything she feels takes three times as much energy for Anna to feel. When she's angry, Anna can't feel anything else. When she's sad, Anna can't get herself to focus until she fixes the problem. She thinks so intensely, which is probably just normal for her, but it's a lot to handle for Anna. When Elsa's not filtering, all her thoughts and feelings come in full speed like a slap to the face, and more than once Anna's found herself bracing against a wall just to keep from being thrown off balance.

And normally she wouldn't complain about it — because it's progress, and she's not exactly fizzing out, just being generally exhausted and pushed and overwhelmed, and she can deal with that — but the past couple days have been particularly awful. To the point where she has to take the pills for tension headaches multiple times a day. To the point where she's losing her interest in going to work, because her body feels like it's shutting down. To the point where she can't hide how she feels anymore, and that leads to Elsa silently staring at her from the kitchen as she shifts from shoving her face in the couch pillow to staring at the living room ceiling.

"I could bring dinner to the couch for you," Elsa offers, "If you're tired I'd rather you didn't move."

"That sounds fantastic," Anna says, "I don't think I could move even if I wanted to." She's so tired she can feel it weighing down her bones, like they've been laced with lead.

Elsa huffs loudly. "You know," she starts, "I could block you off if you want me to. You don't have to go around being exhausted all the time."

"It's fine," Anna says, "just getting used to it, is all. You're kind of intense."

"Only kind of?"

"You could be more intense, I suppose." Anna runs her hand through her hair. It feels like it needs a wash, but she's not moving anytime soon. "With all the build up, I thought you had a lot more in you."

Elsa laughs, then she mumbles, "Fuck," to herself, and Anna can feel she cut her finger without even seeing it. And, really, that's the last thing she needs.

Anna squeezes her eyes shut preparing for the flood of feelings that accompany Elsa getting hurt, shifting her weight to roll over on the couch again. Pain is generally the worst feeling to get coming through the bond, so she'd rather have her face in the pillow for this one. She gets more of a peculiar feeling though, a tug at the back of her mind. All the sound in the room floats away and it feels like she's weightless, like she's floating in an endless sea of water.

By the time she realizes she's fizzing out, she's already leaned over the couch heaving up everything that's in her body.

So much for making progress.

x

Anna chews on the bendy straw sticking from her gatorade and watches as Tiana switches between three different pairs of glasses. She's admiring herself in the front camera on her cell phone, but she tosses that aside after a few minutes and stares at Anna. "Orange, blue, or black?" she asks. Anna shrugs. Tiana takes off the pair she's trying on. "Okay, really, what's going on?"

Anna shrugs again. "Nothing."

"You've been drinking Gatorade like it's water, avoiding busy areas, and watching me try on glasses like you're catatonic. Something's wrong."

Anna wrinkles her nose; she never considered the idea that maybe she's catatonic — whatever that means — but she does know that she's not quite sure where most of her brain cells are hiding today. "Nothing's wrong, I just like spending time in your office."

"You're wearing three bond-blocking bracelets," Tiana points out.

Christ, she's observant. Anna caves; it's not like she's opposed to talking about it. "I told Elsa she should open up, but it kind of —" She sucks some Gatorade through her straw, then blows it back down and listens to it bubble in the bottle. "It kind of all went to shit last night."

Tiana looks as if she's going to comment, but thinks better of it. Instead she just sucks in a breath, and looks Anna over like a concerned mother for a really long stretch of time. Anna supposes that's fitting. There's not much to say about a fucked bond. "D'you fight or something?" Tiana finally settles on.

"Or something."

Tiana huffs and leans forward in her chair very business like. "Look, you're gonna talk about it, or I'm gonna have to make you go back out there and finish your work." Anna doesn't even get the chance to frown before Tiana drops her head and deflates. "Okay, I won't make you do that, but you gotta tell me something."

Instead of responding, Anna inspects her nails. There's one with an awkward cut at the tip, so she lifts it to her mouth to use her teeth as a nail file. She's vaguely aware that Tiana starts talking again, but it's so easy for her to slip away. Easier than normal, that is. Her brain feels like literal mush, and between the headaches and the nausea and the unpleasant tug on her bond from all the bracelets — it's just easier not to listen in. She doesn't need more to be concerned with, and she's decided that she'd genuinely prefer not talking right now.

"Are you even Anna — are you listening to me?"

Anna casts a brief glance up at her boss and moves her finger back and forth on her teeth. "Yesh, T, I 'ear 'oo," she slurs with her finger in her mouth. She slips it out for a moment. "Honestly."

Tiana sighs and drops her hand down on a stack of papers, afterwards tapping her fingers and keeping a steady gaze on Anna. Anna isn't going to backtrack and remind Tiana that she doesn't actually have to tell her anything about her personal life. Because it's personal.

She wants so much to say 'it's not so bad', but it's actually terrible. Last night Anna could feel her brain, like, short circuiting or whatever. And then she threw-up three times before Elsa had to completely shut her out, and two more times before they realized it was best if Elsa just left the house completely. Even then, Anna spent the night sleeping in twenty-minute bouts before snapping awake dizzy, with her head swirling. First thing she did in the morning was buy almost a shelf of gatorade and as many blocking bracelets that she could afford — and that was just so she could at least feel like her head was a little bit above water the rest of the day.

She never wants to experience what it's like having nothing to throw up ever again. She didn't know her chest could hurt that much from just the pressure of her body squeezing out what's not there.

So yeah, things could be going better.

Tiana snaps her fingers in front of Anna's face a few times and Anna grumbles.

"That's it. You're going home."

That sounds like a terrible idea, if Anna's ever heard one. "I don't wanna go home, it smells like her." Tiana manages to frown with her whole face, and Anna decides it's probably more productive to seem useful than whiny. "The black ones look good on you. They all do, but black is like, more professional. 'm gonna get back to work, alright." She stands, just as her world comes crashing down. Quite literally, she ends up on the floor.

In a matter of seconds, Tiana's standing over her. "You need to go home. I mean it."

"Just let me sleep on the floor," Anna says, trying her best to cuddle the carpet. Her hand lands in something wet, and she realizes she's dropped her Gatorade. The fact that Tiana hasn't mentioned it means she's already showing considerable restraint. Anna can't even offer to get the stain out, because her head tips to the side whenever she tries to lift it. "Okay. So I should go home."

Tiana sighs, obviously relieved. "I'll call an Uber. Try not to throw up in the car."

Anna does, of course, throw up in the car. Twice.

x

Anna's apartment looks like a scene from The Others or a murder house. She bought blackout curtains and insulation and turned the heat to 80 and shut all the lights off. She also ordered unscented everything and extra pillows and got it all on one day shipping from Amazon. She had to leave a note on the door for the delivery guy not to ring or knock, just leave the packages. Kristoff pitched in and bought her two more blocking bracelets and after three days on paid leave (because, "Anna don't come back until you can sit up straight for more than twenty minutes") she's starting to feel a little bit normal. As long as she stays in her fortress of solitude under two blankets and five pillows, only eating unflavored oatmeal.

It's certainly not the life she imagined for herself in her early twenties, but it's starting to feel a lot like things don't get much better than this.

After four days she can stand all by herself long enough to take a ten minute shower and it no longer completely overwhelms her if she puts diced fruit in her oatmeal. It's not even gradual progress; the day before she couldn't do that, and now she can. She's not sure if she's getting better or if Elsa's getting better and she's feeling it, or if it's just the bond-blocking bracelets doing their job, but it's a start.

She's even confident enough to take the elevator down to the car garage and get the file folder she left in there for the story she's been working on. So far she's avoided the garage because a cold, lonely concrete box isn't where she wants to meet her death, but by the end of her fourth day in solitude she's confident enough in her walking abilities.

When she stops to think about it — and she doesn't like stopping to think about it because none of this makes sense and all of this makes her head hurt — she's not sure what went wrong, why there's so many after effects, why Elsa hasn't come back, why her world is ending when she never asked for any of this. When she stops to think about it none of this seems fair, and that's seriously dampening her generally positive world view. When she stops to think about it she realizes she might know more if she took the bracelets off; Elsa might feel like she's welcome back. When she stops to think about it she realizes she's absolutely terrified of the idea of taking the bracelets off because who knows what would happen.

So not thinking about it is better. Focusing on work is better. Because when she stops to think about this whole situation she mostly just wants to cry.

Anyway, her work folder is in the car, and she can walk now. So there's only a few steps and an elevator between her and the best distraction she can have. She gets to write about vegetable gardens and mountains and cute animals and scary (but cute) animals. And even though she's been too sick to take pictures, Kristoff assured her over text that he took some really good ones and uploaded them to their dropbox. She has a lot to look forward to that's not this shitty head thing, and more importantly, not this shitty Elsa thing.

The walk to the elevator goes smooth enough. The lights in the hallway are dim, which is nice, and the elevator goes slow, which is also nice. Her head does a bob thing, though, once she steps off the elevator, which she knows is the first sign that she's going to collapse in the near future. She should have let herself rest, since she's been testing out her walking all day. She never really thinks anything through, but the thought of collapsing in the middle of the garage is terrifying, so between her swirling head and the adrenaline rush she's having, she gets the idea of jogging the rest of the distance to her car. It's at least safe to collapse in there.

"Alright then," she mutters to herself, starting her jog towards the car, only stopping when she's standing in front of it and fumbling with her keys because her hands won't stop shaking. Once the locks pop, she shuffles into the back seat, presses her forehead against the cold leather, and switches between repeating, "fuckfuckfuck," and, "whypleasewhy?."

She doesn't move until she's sure the wave of nausea has passed and that she's got a large enough window to get back to her apartment. She doesn't even bother looking for the folder, just backs out of the car and then leans with her hands pressed against it and her head down once she's standing. It takes a moment for the head rush to pass, and then another moment for Anna to get the strength to shut the door.

It only takes a split second for her to realize she didn't move her other hand before she slammed the door shut.

The door smashes Anna's right hand, and she crumples to the ground in pain. She's not sure who screams louder: her, the pain in her head, or the echo that bounces off every wall of the garage.

The pain is overwhelming, a throbbing, crushing agony stemming from her right hand and reverberating through the rest of her body. She can't seem to focus on anything, just cradles her hand to her chest and hopes that it's over soon. But as time drags on the pain only gets worse, to the point where she's forcing her eyes shut so hard that she's seeing stars on the backs of her eyelids.

After what feels like forever, Anna uses what strength she has left to yank off every bond-blocking bracelet she's wearing, pulling them right over the hand she slammed in the door. It's a long shot, and it only manages to amplify the already searing pain she's feeling in her hand, but she has to try something.

Anna's not sure how long she's out, but the next thing she registers is someone wrapping delicate fingers around her right wrist and pulling it away from her chest. Anna cries out as her palm spasms, but the person doesn't give her much time to focus on that. They turn Anna from her side, onto her back, and holds her hand above her as they twist her arm in the air.

"Christ, what happpened," they say, and Anna realizes only now that it's Elsa. Opening her eyes half way confirms this thought, right before Elsa puts pressure on her hand and it stings so badly that tears well up in Anna's eyes. Anna tries to yank her arm away, but Elsa persists, only holding on tighter. "Stop, I'm trying to see if it's broken. You should have been in the hospital days ago. How'd you let your head get this bad. Jesus, I told you I would hurt you, but no you never listen. And then you guilt trip me because you let me in and I don't or what-fucking-ever. And now this. Are you trying to kill me?"

Anna can only whimper in response, unable to get her voice to work. She regrets it now, regrets everything, sure as fuck.

She rolls her head and flutters her eyes open, getting a good look at her hand. It's red and swollen slightly, but most importantly it looks disfigured. It's mostly just her thumb and fore finger that look impacted and they're maybe definitely broken because she's trying to move them, but nothing is happening. Then again, she's having a hard time remembering her own name. But Elsa's there now, and as angry as she is, she's comforting. So there's that.

x

When Anna wakes the room is spinning, and it's not just her head this time. The room is actually spinning. She's also vaguely aware that she's naked and there's something covering her head — maybe a helmet or a hat — and that she doesn't feel like complete shit anymore. That doesn't mean she's not afraid, because she has no idea where she is or why she's here.

You're getting your head tested, she hears someone say, or rather she hears Elsa think.

Anna snaps a bit more awake, since Elsa talking to her means this might not be some weird, elaborate dream. She tries to clear her mind as best as possible and thinks back, Tested for what?

We're — they're not quite sure what's wrong. It's not me this time. If it was me the nausea would have stopped the moment I blocked you, and definitely after you put on the bracelets.

Anna takes a moment to think that over, not that she outright blamed Elsa, but she assumed it at least had something to do directly with her.

Does this mean I'm going to die then?

No. Not at all. Elsa's silent for a moment, then, I hope not.

That's reassuring. Do they have any theories?

If they do, they're not telling me. The doctors are all acting like it's serious, wont give me any answers until they're completely sure what's going on. I'm not necessarily popular with them, considering our psychic difference. No one's said it out loud, but they all think I shouldn't have let this happen.

It's not your fault, Anna thinks immediately. You should tell them that, tell them I hit you with my bike. Don't let them blame you.

It's alright, you just focus on getting better, okay? I need you.

You don't need me, Anna thinks, before she can stop herself. I mean, you'd do just fine without me.

That's bullshit, stop thinking that.

Are you still angry at me?

Elsa's silent for a really long time. Anna almost thinks she's fallen back to sleep, but then she hears, I wasn't angry at you. Which is a lie. I'm not lying. Well, okay. Yeah I was angry but it was more afraid and upset and afraid.

You said afraid twice.

Yeah, Elsa thinks, I was really afraid. I could barely hear or feel you for days and then all at once you were in so much pain.

Anna doesn't quite respond after that; she just pauses to consider how that must have felt for Elsa. She feels terrible for brief moment, before she's asleep again.