Chapter Twenty-One : Chess

By Saturday evening, three separate incidents have occurred—two of them downloaded and streaming in the web. As they had guessed, the second live streaming was of George Klemmer. The content is roughly the same: a preacher, a cameraman, and four attackers. The victims are always drugged and taken to a remote area where there's a chance they can be found, but not until much later when the deed has already been done. The preacher always demands for repentance—promises that the consequence becomes lighter after the confession is made.

George Klemmer confessed. He showed the ugly side of the debate—the one everyone keeps insisting is the only side. It started when he was forty-five. The girl was only eight. Her parents died in an accident and he became sole guardian—an uncle on her father's side. And it's despicable and wrong and Anna wishes for the small slice of hell that's reserved for people like him to be even worse than depicted. Yet everything that happened to him still doesn't justify the acts of these so-called Crusaders.

Crusaders.

As if they're doing god's work and he's preaching it straight into their ears.

Modern day Joan of Arc gone wrong.

Matthias must have some kind of doctorate on people's behavior. There's a rough minority that agrees with the beatings—some even going insofar as asking where to sign up. Anna hopes it's borne from some minor evolutionary flaw. People who are stupider than stupid—relatives to those whose faces get leaked in the news after they break into someone's home, steal something, and have the audacity to post about it (picture and all) that makes it ridiculously easy to comprehend them later in the middle of their misdemeanor.

Then there's the sickened majority: people that can't make rhyme or reason to the violence, regardless of the same perspective or opinion. People that don't see the justification or connection with religion. Even better, those who see it, but choose to believe two wrongs not making a right.

NYPD's captain made a formal announcement of an investigation when Klemmer's video went viral. They cited rewards for any leads, but even as the third victim crops up, there's still nothing they can do. Matthias promised a link that can't be connected and it remains that way. The general plead for the public's general safety goes to deaf ears except possibly those that may have been in the wrong side of the fence that specific day in Albany.

"So, apparently they want to make a light example of supporters," Kristoff says between a bite of a hospital hotdog.

Surprisingly, it's better than it sounds.

"Yesterday's assault victim has a black eye, concussion, and a broken rib. Word is she was just a supporter—like me and Sven. Could be because she's female too, but I guess we won't really know until the video hits the web."

Anna dips a fry into a roughly man-made combination of barbecue sauce and honey mustard, but keeps it there, holding the biting anger from releasing at the tip of her tongue.

It's almost midnight and it feels as if they've been here all day. It's not as if she has anywhere else to go—nothing seems more important than sitting beside Sidney and being her emotional rock until Mel wakes up. But the stagnancy—the feeling of utmost helplessness per cropped video isn't sitting well with her.

The most recent victim: Barbara Keyes was someone she hadn't met personally at the rally, but she remembers the woman being ferociously clear on her viewpoint: equality on all platforms…and it's hard not to feel for someone like that. Someone who saw all the perspectives, saw all the grayed areas, and even because of it—maybe even in spite of it, she was an avid supporter of the repeal.

New York Nightly News' interview with her family sitting at her beside at Clearview Hospital in the other side of town had been what felt like what drew the supporters in. The focus on Barbara's private life—who she is outside of the repeal made it ridiculously easy to hate the so-called Crusaders. Churchgoer, donator of not only money, but also time, a member of an LBTQ group.

"She's been fighting for equality even before this whole repeal started," her partner had stated through the television, cheeks splotchy, eyes red, watery, and hair in complete disarray as their son sits silently seething beside her, a strong arm holding her close and his stare stuck in the far distance. "Because we all remember how it was like. Something new…something that felt dangerous because no one knows anything about it, or that there were preconceived notions of it. In this debate, there are a whole lot of gray areas. I can't say that some of the accusations aren't false. We know there are exceptions. We know that there are people like that man from yesterday. Does he deserve what happened to him? Maybe, but even then, that is not for those delinquents to decide. They are not godsend, they are not absolved from responsibility, and when the time comes, I sure hope that they're able to learn that.

"I still remember the fear that had gripped us back when being openly gay would result in the same consequence. I'm aware of the differences of the two debates, but it all comes down to one simple thing: can't people be allowed to love whomever they want so long as both parties are in the same page? Does anyone really want the world's approval to love somebody? As it is…it's the same type of bigotry aimed at a different and certainly much smaller group. History shouldn't have to repeat itself. I would hope that people are smarter—more conscientious than they were twenty years ago."

The support, especially after the airing of that interview, was enormous. All of the sudden people were more indifferent. It isn't to say that the population suddenly switched sides. More than anything there's casual understanding—similar words that had been uttered in another debate before:

"So long as it's not being flaunted in front of me…"

"As if making out with Mel in a room full of people ever was in the cards anyway…" Sidney mutters bitterly.

All of their gazes flitter at the mostly eaten food on the table. It's been less than thirty minutes, but Anna can feel the brunette's longing glances at the elevator growing in length as well as number. It's the longest she's seen the other girl leave her brother's side at any given time—longest and furthest. The hospital cafeteria doesn't seem very far off, but still…Getting her to go outside is an impossible feat, one the redhead understands to a tee. If their roles were reversed, she doubts she could even leave Elsa out of her sight for one second regardless of the depth of concern her friends outwardly show.

Kristoff catches her knowing glance, nods, and stuffs the rest of the hotdog in his mouth, munching loudly, while beckoning the girls to get a move on and grabbing the tray as he shimmies his way out of the small booth. The relief on Sidney's face that they're finally going back again is so palpable that a significant part of Anna's chest constricts at seeing the helplessness and hope surge and combine as one atop her sallow disposition.

"Sid," she calls, Kristoff breaking away from their small group to throw away their litter momentarily.

Dull forest greens look back at her, blackened bags sitting beneath eyelids, and cheekbones protruding from pasty skin. In the course of four days it looks as if she's lost at least ten pounds, worry lines etched into permanence all along her countenance, her oily hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, and her clothes beginning to look ill fitting…as if she's wearing another, healthier, girl's wardrobe.

Anna locks her body, stops herself from stepping forward and engulfing the other girl into a hug, and smiles—smiles as genuinely as she can without allowing the enormous pity welling up in her stomach to brim over and show.

"When Mel wakes up…I know it'll be hard, but…I think it'd be a good idea to go home for a while. Rest…on a bed…with pillows and sheets. At least for several hours."

She sees the refute coat a weary face even before Sidney begins shaking her head in disagreement.

"I know it sounds difficult." She hates how she sounds as if she's coddling, but she figures that whatever it takes to get Sidney to cooperate is a win in any book, especially because it looks as if the other girl is starting to dig herself into an early grave regardless of its inadvertency. "If…if someone were to ask me the same thing, I would be kicking and screaming profanities."

A ghost of smile quirks up her face, her eyes deferring lowly to what Anna can only assume as her chin or the collar of her shirt and stuck in the same hopeless, bottomless stare.

"But as well as thinking about your well-being…I'm thinking of Mel's too. Because he will wake up Sidney…and when he does he'll be looking for you. Would he be happy to see you right now…the way you are?"

It takes a moment to get an answer…and definitely not the one that she wants. Tears begin to brim on red rimmed lids before they shut in obvious agony, Sid's body bending forward in a possible attempt to curl herself into a ball before Anna swoops in, arms coiling around a too thin waist, and pulling the girl towards her as she begins wracking in uncontrollable sobs.

The curious stares of onlookers goes right over her head. The only thing that really assimilates is Sidney apologizing over and over in attempted hushed tones that is swept easily aside in favor of overwhelming grief.

And that's the worst part, isn't it?

Why is her friend apologizing? Why does she have to go through any of this? Why do all of them?

Instead of having a normal Saturday get together with friends, they're at a hospital hoping that positivity and optimism can shed some light into a bleak and overbearingly dark situation. Meanwhile Elsa…Elsa has been working tirelessly just to put another team together so that they can continue to do this—be where they need to be instead of fearing the outcome of stepping outside of their houses or property lines.

All because some people—some kids…think that they can play God.

"Sidney Sullivan please report back to ICU Room 302. Sidney Sullivan, please report back to ICU Room 302."

The loudspeakers pull them both into action, first into glancing at the disembodied voice on the ceiling, and then to each other.

A plethora of emotions dance across Sidney's face: fear, surprise, and a small sliver of hope. Anna isn't aware of Kristoff until he's motioning for both of them to move towards the elevators, and it feels as if that's what pulls them all into action. Their shoes squeak loudly against the linoleum floors, Sidney getting to the elevator doors first and punching the up button ferociously as soon as she's within arm's reach of it.

It probably takes less than five minutes to get to the room, but just like everything in which every second counts, it feels as if forever passes instead. The elevator takes too long so they sprint into the nearest stairwell, each of them running up the stairs two at a time with Sidney at the forefront and two of the four protective detail taking up the rear. The chastising yells from passing staff members fall into deaf ears, and it's such a weird sensation…a combination of hope and fear. Because every part of the redhead wants Mel to be awake, yet there's this part of her that the last month has properly ingrained to be as pessimistic as is earthly possible.

It hurts less that way, right?

The rushing of footsteps gathers the attention of the entire floor, but most importantly, Johnson and Stanley who are guarding the doorway. There's activity flourishing in the room, nurses coming in and out as Sidney's name is paged overhead a second time.

"We're here!" Anna yells, doubling her effort.

The brunette merely runs faster, as if gaining second wind just from seeing Mel's room up ahead.

Sidney crosses the threshold first, pushing the curtain away roughly and standing at the foot of it, breaths haggard and rough, and eyes falling immediately on the bed. Anna skids to a halt, careful not to topple over the other girl's suddenly still form and stops herself a half a foot away before actually colliding into a straightened back. It doesn't give Kristoff enough time unfortunately. The young man's bulky frame careens right into her, front to back, and it feels like a bad domino effect. Kristoff attempts to stop her as they're both falling over and physics has all the say in the world. In the end, all three of them are a mess of limbs on the floor, Sidney caught in train wreck as well as half of the now ripped curtain, and numerous eyes gazing at them in baffled surprise, forest green eyes among them.

"You guys sure look happy to see me."

His voice is croaky and rough, as if each sentence expelled is cutting ridges in his throat. The ventilator is making it extremely difficult to see his lips move as well, but there's warmth in his eyes, aimed solely at his sister, and the relief and happiness surging in Anna's system can't possibly compare to the emotions Sidney is feeling.

The brunette's body is shivering uncontrollably, lips shaking and eyes shutting close in apparent disbelief. As if she doesn't want to be woken if this is all a figment of her imagination, but at the same time realistically hoping that it's all true.

Kristoff is the first to get up, smile quirking up widely at Mel and giving him a firm nod, before reaching both hands towards Sidney and Anna and easily lifting them both. Half of the curtain is left pooling on the floor, casually strewn aside, and it's the first unsure step Sidney takes towards the bed that seems to wake everyone up.

"Give us a few minutes," the doctor suddenly says, turning back and getting Mel's attention. "We're going to be doing some tests—make sure there are no lasting injuries that we didn't see through the CAT Scans, MRIs and X-Rays. Sir, do you know where you are?"

The doctor slides the ventilator away and rests it atop the machine, shines some light into his eyes and watches closely as they shrink in response.

"H…hospital?" the young man answers, tone laced in confusion.

"Your name?"

"Melborn Sullivan."

"Mr. Sullivan, I'm Dr. Takeyama. I've been in charge of your care for the past four days. You're in Portview Medical's ICU. Can you tell me what you remember doing last?"

Mel's brows stitch in a thoughtful frown, a pregnant pause washing over the room before his gaze lowers to his feet, his chest, hands, shoulders—all the places awash in ink blotched bruises or covered in hard plaster and gauze. His right hand comes up, grazes his fingertips over the sling covering his dislocated shoulder and then up at his face where strips of cloth are wrapped around his head and nose.

"I was attacked." His voice is infinitely rougher, anger dulling his eyes into resignation as he lays back and stares at the ceiling, his arm falling into a helpless thump at his side. "I was heading for my biochem finals and then…nothing. I wake up and I'm in a…construction site…I think. There were people there. They were angry and jeering…and…"

His throat bobbles through a rough swallow, his voice trailing off as frustration slowly, but apparently builds through his words.

"You were assaulted," the doctor continues when words are no longer forthcoming. "You sustained many injuries: left dislocated shoulder, broken nose, a fracturing of ribs three, four, and five on the right side, and five and six broken on your left. A mild concussion and three broken fingers on your left hand: middle, index, and thumb." He points out each part slowly as he explains, his eyes gauging Mel's response that seems to grow muted with every passing second. "You'll probably begin feeling all of that when the morphine drip starts wearing off. I advise you to move as little as possible. We've attached a catheter so you don't need to worry about going to the restroom. Anything more and we will help you with it."

Resigned humiliation paints a bruised face, Mel's lips curling in distaste as his eyes begin watering at the edges.

"We'll do our best to get you back out there Mr. Sullivan. You've woken and that's the most important thing. The next step is getting you out of ICU—making sure your vitals remain strong and normal. After that…all we can do is wait. It takes a chunk of time, but your bones will heal. We'll help you recover, but we'll have to do it little by little. For now, I'm going to prepare more morphine. It'll help ease the pain, but it'll also put you back to sleep. You're probably tired of it, but your body needs it."

His stiff nod shakes the tears welling in the corners of his eyes to disperse—descend slowly from the side of his face and dropping on the pillow. Sidney takes a deliberate step forward, looks at the doctor questioningly, and waits for his okay before any further movement.

He and his two nurses stay for a couple more minutes to check a few more of the machines before leaving them alone completely, one other nurse staying to replace the ripped curtain, but also leaving as soon as he's able to.

And in that time space of a broken minute, in which everything is up in the air, silence louder than the repetitive noise of a strong heartbeat and still noisy ventilator, Anna wants to come forward. She wants to make sure that Mel is okay, to alleviate his worries and be a good friend…and yet a stronger part wants to leave them alone. Leave them to their well-deserved privacy and come back, possibly tomorrow.

Her hand finds Kristoff's forearm, holds on to it, and smiles as widely as she's able. "We're gonna—

"Stay."

Disagreement erupts easily from her throat, her head already shaking in protest even before words are expelled from her mouth.

Mel smiles, and it's watery and off, and so disfigured because of the bruises and puffiness marring his face, but the soft plead in his countenance speaks so much more than words.

His face screws in thought, before her murmurs, "Four days…it's…Saturday, right? Knowing you guys, you've been here since morning…waiting. It doesn't make sense to leave now."

Yet it matters little to the redhead, what does and doesn't make sense.

Sidney sighs, walks over to his beside and carefully takes his uninjured hand with her own. She's most likely aware of her disheveled state, especially after the small talk in the cafeteria they weren't able to finish, but nothing else really matters now. Pulling the plastic chair closer, she sits at its edge and lays Mel's palm atop her cheek, her free hand wiping the tear tracks away from the side of his face.

Their smiles are a mirror image: sad, relieved, hopeful, restrained.

"Sorry." Mel's the one that breaks the silence first, and it garners a vehement shake of the head from everyone in the room.

"Don't," Sidney mutters, eyes closing to rein back the frustration and opening them only when she's able to calm the emotions from spilling out. She sighs heavily, leaning on the strong hand cupping her face and shakes her head. "You have nothing to be sorry about. You didn't do anything wrong…"

His head falls softly on the pillow, eyes detracting again towards the ceiling. "Doesn't stop me from feeling it…"

"Mel, if you weren't already so beaten up, I'd want to smack you…"

The retort comes out of Anna easily, Kristoff chortling uncontrollably next to her and smacking her playfully in the shoulder. It does its job though, releases the tension building up like a coil in the room and causes the twins to chuckle, Mel's face contorting painfully with each sound, but unable to stop himself.

Anna pulls a chair on his other side and sits on it, Kristoff following her.

"I guess I can just crack jokes," she continues with a playful shrug. "Should do well with your ribs being broken."

"Shiiit…" he grunts, smile falling into resignation. "They did a number…" His eyes widen suddenly, recollection coming into play. "They videotaped it…the assault."

And he probably didn't expect them all to nod knowingly, so when they did, the drawn conclusion isn't very far off. Each of them tells him of the goings on of the past three to four days—all the things he's missed. At the end of it, he's rightfully as frustrated as all of them.

"And this guy…this Matthias…He's controlling things?"

Anna can only shrug. "He's the one sending it off to be publicly viewed—to garner attention. I'm sure he's doing more things, but…what they are is a mystery. Right now, it seems priority number one is getting everyone to agree on how bad the people in the videos are."

"I hate to say it, but it's actually working," Kristoff adds, pulling his beanie off and ruffling his hair with a firm hand. "He's getting public sympathy, especially after the last victim. She's…she's just an active supporter of the repeal and she still got assaulted. People are livid. She belongs to a huge gay rights group and everyone is screaming bloody murder in there."

"It's understandable. We knew Barbara. She's…she's a great person. One of the few willing to listen and understand and even support. And the police? Are they…doing their jobs?"

"There's a reward and a hotline and everything set up, but so far it's been fruitless. They've asked for people that were in the rally to come forward for additional protection, but that's going along as swimmingly as you can expect," Anna answers noting the bitterness in Mel's voice, but not commenting on it. "Elsa or Kai will call if or when a fourth victim crops up. I'm thinking some detectives will be visiting you the next couple of days…see if you remember anything that they haven't already gathered from the video."

He shrugs with his good shoulder, anger sparkling in his eyes.

An uncomfortable silence passes over the group, broken only when a nurse comes back in with the morphine drip.

"We've contacted your parents," she announces, looking at the group over and settling on just speaking with Mel when she has everyone's attention. "I was wondering if you'd like to wait for them before we start pumping you up on morphine. The medication will likely put you to sleep."

"Sure…they come now…" Sidney's low mutter is heard by everyone regardless of the way she almost hisses it.

Mel's grip on her arm merely tightens. "We'll wait," he answers the nurse after a brief moment, face pulling into nonchalance. "Am I clear to take any pills for the pain in the meanwhile or…"

The nurse shakes her head. "For the first couple of days, everything will be intravenous. We'll give you a bolus as soon as you give the word. It'll be a bit higher in concentration. Should work instantaneously. We'll work on getting real food in you the next time you wake up."

He nods once, everyone's eyes following the woman until she leaves, the door left halfway ajar behind her.

It's not very long before a quiet murmur sends everyone on edge.

"They haven't visited since…" Sidney stops mid-sentence, eyes closing as if pained. "Since dad found out. Mom came once…or so I was told. She just checked your charts at the nurse's station and…that's it. Left as soon as she came. Didn't even come in the room."

The rough swallow he takes is noticeable, a shallow breath expelled shortly after. "How did…how did dad take it?"

"I don't think as bad as he wanted it to…Anna and Elsa were there as buffers at the start."

Mel's eyes widen as much as the inflammation upon his face could allow, his eyes drifting to Anna who tries to not look so sheepish, but fails miserably.

She ends up shaking her head, expecting a 'thank you' and not really wanting it or feeling as if it's earned in the first place. "I probably made it even worse so…"

Sidney smiles, a genuine shift of expressions that makes her look more like her old self before this whole incident began. "You underestimate yourself." She smirks, as if hearing an inside joke only she can understand. "I don't think I would've been able to speak with conviction if it weren't for you and Elsa being there."

"You probably wouldn't have had to explain a thing if we weren't there to begin with."

"But there's a point in time when running away isn't really an option anymore." Sidney looks down at Mel's hand clasping almost knuckle white against her own. "I was quite aware of what Elsa was doing that night…regardless of how the whole experience felt completely out of my hands. I saw the easy outs she was giving…But a part of me…stubborn and angry, especially because of what happened to Mel, didn't want to just sweep it under the rug. It was as if doing so was dismissing what we have. I'd rather face dad's wrath than make him think this was just a passing phase or neither of us thought it all through."

The look the twins share, silent but all knowing. It resonates through Anna's chest because of its familiarity. It doesn't take much to see her and Elsa in their place. The only glaring difference is what's to happen within the next half hour. It will, undoubtedly, change everything in her friends' lives. She can't even fathom what she and Elsa would do if the roles were reversed; what she would say, how she'd act.

Regardless of the outcome, there's obviously no real winner. And unlike the very last time…this is most definitely a family matter…one that she has no business staying in.

Drawing a heavy breath, she looks them over and sends a small, silent prayer to no one in particular. It's not as if she's ever been religious and if what the big book says about what she does with her sister is any indication, God probably hates her…or whatever, but she does it anyway.

It can't hurt.

She shuffles before getting up, placing a sure palm atop Mel's sling and breaking what feels like a private moment. She smiles apologetically before giving a firm nod to Kristoff who begins following her lead. "We're gonna go—

"You don't want to stay this time?"

The rough cut off, jeering and simultaneously angry, sends icicles to drop in her gut. Suddenly, it feels as if the temperature in the entire room drops, everyone's attention swiveling to the just as open door. The surprise from seeing the married couple so soon is palpable in the tense room—Anna was expecting them much, much later.

Mr. Sullivan is as how she remembers him: hard and unyielding. He's a bit more clean shaven—less shaken than the last time. Unlike his daughter, he looks neat—sporting a fresh white buttoned down collared shirt, a black tie, and just as black suit. He looks just about ready for a funeral. Mrs. Sullivan, a woman she's never seen before, looks just as bleak. Her dark, brunette hair is up in a bun, pulling her features into utter strictness. Narrow green eyes and pursed lips complete the dark suit atop a straight-back frame.

In an instant, Anna is shown a glimpse—a small understanding.

What she was hoping for was a bit of compassion, or at least a ready ear. Without a doubt, her own parents would've given her and Elsa at least that. Never mind being told wrong at the very end. At the very least…they would listen. The elder Sullivans won't. She knows this just from looking at them.

They know what they want. They'll get it regardless of consequence.

"You might as well stay," Mr. Sullivan continues, his smirk hard and relentless. The dread sitting atop her chest swells as he gives a halfhearted shrug. "You seem to like to pry into people's business and be the hero when it suits you."

"Mark, enough. Let's get this done."

Sidney stands from her spot, hand still linked with Mel's and eyes darting at either parent. Her expression is a mixture—a lot like her older brother's. There's fear there, sure. Anxiety, and a touch of trepidation. But Anna also sees a mirror image hardness she must take after her father. A resolute back straightens, knuckles impossibly white from holding Mel's hands in her own, and her mouth purses before she takes in a palpable breath.

"'Let's get this done?'" Sid repeats quite blithely, the words a small, but harsh whisper. "Like a grocery list or a chore left unfinished?"

Mrs. Sullivan's eyes narrow, her gaze piercing and cold and directed towards her only daughter. "I'm not sure what you think you're getting from acting out. And it may have worked with your father. But speak to me like that again and I promise you won't step foot in this hospital again for the duration of Melborn's stay."

The words are quick, sharp, destructive…and, oh so, effective. Like a well-scolded child Sidney's eyes fall to the ground, humility painting her features and what seems to be Mel's firm grip keeping her grounded.

"Your uncle Chester's on his way," Mrs. Sullivan continues, unaffected and quite blasé. "He's drawn up a contract regarding the state of our…affairs and I want to iterate them to you before he comes in for the signatures. Keep in mind that none of this is negotiable. This is what we want and this…whatever this is between the two of you…is not tolerated in any way, shape, or form. If you feel that criminal punishment is more appeasing, then so be it. I'd rather both of you separated by a chain linked fence and armed guards than to continue this atrocity."

Mel attempts to sit up, the pain and overall condition of his body disallowing it but the shuffles and pained grunts enough to gather everyone's attention. His expression is a mixture of disbelief and sadness, his head shaking in tandem to the opening and closing of his mouth. Finally, after a pregnant pause, a semblance of a sentence peaks out.

"You won't even listen to what we have to say?"

"There's nothing anyone, barring what your father and I, could say that would turn this situation into a favorable one."

Mel's eyes flash in anger. "Favorable? Favorable?Fuck favorable. Why can't…why can't we just speak about this? Why is it so hard for you to just sit down andlisten to us?! We…we try…so hard to please the two of you. For even a semblance or a nod of approval. And for all the shit that we do—all the shit that we put up with—

Mrs. Sullivan's high, sardonic laughter cuts off Mel's rant, the tears locked in red-rimmed eyes splashing into the gauze and cuts on his face. It looks as if he's just been slapped physically, forest green eyes deadening at the continued, mirthless laugh and the fight—what's little of it, completely drains out of his body.

The female elder Sullivan's lips are twisted into a disbelieving smirk, arms crossed over her chest in an over the top, obviously condescending manner. "Oh, I'm so sorry Melborn dear…I didn't realize that your life of paid tuitions and paid apartments and paid healthcare were so hard to put up with."

"It's more than that, you know."

Before Anna knows it, the words reverberating off of her skull crashes out of her mouth. Everyone's attention is suddenly on her, five pairs in open surprise, although the emotion after that differs greatly per person. She sees the frustrated tears rolling off of Mel's cheeks, Sid's body broken against the chair. And it's one thing to feel defeated over the entirety of this situation. Because if she were to be completely realistic, there's no fair world that would accept her and Elsa and Mel and Sidney and everyone else who is in the least affected by this debate. But at the very least…

What's the price of a touch of consideration? What's the price for a willing ear to listen? To attempt to understand? From those that matter the most?

"You're their parents." Anna's voice cracks at the last word, her own painting a different light beneath burning lids. A hollowed drum beats in her inner ear, so painfully tandem to the lump in her throat. "You're not…you're not supposed to keep a tally of what you've done. You're not supposed to hang it over their heads like ultimatums. That's…that's not what parenting is."

"And you'd know, of course," Mr. Sullivan speaks, eyes boring through hers. "You like to have a say in all matters that don't even pertain to you. That's surely something you got from your parents."

The tone of the older man's voice smarts, and she hears the jab there—tries so hard to keep from lashing back because no one has any right to speak ill of her parents—certainly not in that condescending manner. But she does. She holds back the retort dying to fly off the tip of her tongue. Swallows it and saves it for a rainy day. She merely shakes her head outwardly at him, sees the flash of disappointment through his features when she has nothing to say back.

It makes her wonder who truly is the adult in the room.

"Mark, that's enough." Mrs. Sullivan's words cut through the air like a whip again, slitted eyes drilling a hole through her head if that were at all possible. "This is a family matter little girl, and you have no place in it. Go home."

"Stay." Mel's voice is a barely decipherable croak, but the look he sends her way is resolute and strong. "Something tells me that whatever either of them has to say won't be…favorable." He spits the word like an expletive. "I'd rather go to sleep tonight knowing I didn't turn away the only people who have me and Sid's back through thick and thin than listen to someone who couldn't even be bothered to visit when their son is in the hospital."

A heavy silence falls through the room from the definite accusation. The elder Sullivans are as close to livid as Anna thinks she'll ever see them. Maybe, she thinks, even as much as their kids have seen them. But what in Mel's words were wrong or even misspoken? She knows all of them are in the same page with that…at the very least, so she isn't at all surprised that it gets glossed over fairly quickly.

"Waiting is a waste of time," Mrs. Sullivan says simply, standing up a bit straighter from her position at the front of the hospital bed and her chin tilting upwards minutely, gaze drilling straight at her son. "The end result remains the same: you're here, you're fine. In that timeframe, instead of sitting at your bedside uselessly, Sidney could've studied and taken her finals. She missed two of her four." She turns towards said daughter and continues in the same breath, "I've spoken with your professors and they're understanding. You will go back to the university next week and make up the finals you've missed."

The twins' mouths open in near simultaneous fashion broken only by the squeaking of loafers speed walking through the hallway. The somewhat open portion of the curtain shows a stubby man heading their way, perfectly circular glasses atop a pudgy face and tufts of curly hair swaying atop the beginnings of a balding head. His tan suit looks to be one size too small, his tie gliding with the makeshift breeze, and sausage like fingers gripping a black suitcase.

Mr. Sullivan sighs in annoyance, eyes narrowing in impatience as a gruff, "Finally" releases from under his breath.

The man almost barrels through the door if it weren't for Peter suddenly standing in front of him, chest puffed out and standing over him in a completely silent and intimidating way. He backtracks, looks through the partition of the hospital room and gives a kind of choked sound that may have been words dying in its conception.

"I-I…I need to go in," the stranger stutters, eyes flickering from Peter's steely gaze towards the room.

The black man doesn't move.

"That's Chester," Mrs. Sullivan says quite loudly, definitely enough for the bodyguard to hear her. "Let him in, he's family."

He still doesn't move, and a second later Munro is beside him and the other two bodyguards are moving in as well.

Anna can't see the stranger's face, but she can imagine how comical his features must be to find himself suddenly surrounded by people stockier, taller, and with certainly more muscle mass than him.

She controls it before it gets out of hand.

"Peter, let him in."

Peter's head tilts up momentarily and towards her minutely, an unspoken understanding that he heard her. He gives the man another once over before turning his entire body halfway, just enough for Chester to squeeze through uncomfortably.

When he's finally in the room, a palpable sigh of relief tumbles from his mouth, beads of sweat (whether from apparently running to the room or the confrontation at the door) slithering from his rounded forehead and into a ready handkerchief.

"Mark. Sylvia." He greets the Sullivans, turns towards the twins, Anna, and Kristoff and purses his lips, but says nothing to them. His attention flits back towards the doorway where Peter and Munro are obviously conversing and gives a tired sigh. "Sorry, but…what is that for?"

"Bodyguards," Anna answers him, and he looks quite surprised that she would be the one to reply. "For Mel and Sid's protection."

"Bodyguards…" Mrs. Sullivan says the word like it's something dirty under her heels. "I don't condone it. Get rid of them."

"No."

Anna knows the elder Sullivan doesn't hear that word often if at all. Certainly not from someone who she considers a child and a stranger simultaneously. Green eyes bore through Anna's, anger and impatience coating the older woman's smooth, strict face.

Before she can say anything word-wise, the redhead continues, "If the assholes that did this to your son comes back to finish what they started, those men outside are the only ones equipped to deal with them. You may not care what happens to your children, but I do. They stay."

Mrs. Sullivan seethes at her words, expression stormy and mouth pulled back into an almost snarl. She leans forward, the action obviously intimidating, and grips the bottom of the bed with whitened knuckles. "You will learn to shut your—

"NO!" Mel yells, and it cuts through everything.

For a second, Anna feels thoroughly berated, because she knows she's stepped out of line (again, her mind impetuously adds), but when she looks back at her friend apologetically, his eyes aren't trained towards her, but towards his mother. Regardless, it suspends the time in the room—stops it The heavy silence that follows is broken only by the obvious excruciating pain just breathing brings after his sudden exclamation, the machine monitoring his heart levels spiking erratically.

"Of all things," he mutters in between heavy breaths, Sid's arm coming around his shoulder to ease him back onto his bed where he's now leaning angrily over, but his narrowed eyes stay trained on his mother's widened similar orbs. "I know you like to control everything mom, but back off. This…of all things…we should be able to agree on. You're not spending a fucking dime on it. You don't get a say. Tell me, what's wrong with having someone at the door to protect your children? Are you and dad so blinded by your anger that you'd allow what happened to me happen to Sid? Why? Because we're both sinful and guilty. Get over it." His eyes dart towards his uncle's, jaw clenched in suppressed anger rolling off of his strained body in waves. "Say what you have to say uncle. Let's get this over with."

A pregnant pause follows Mel's curt words, his uncle looking between him and his mother momentarily before nodding and opening his suitcase. It surprises Anna to see the elder female Sullivan backing off. It's certainly a hesitant kind of acceptance, one that she's merely deferring for the sake of bringing up later.

"The terms of this agreement are as follows," The chubby man starts, pushing his glasses up against his nose as he squints his eyes at several pages he pulls out from within a folder. The cadence of his voice is low and somewhat pained. As if he's also here not because he wants to be, but out of some sick sense of obligation. "Neither of you are allowed in the same room without supervision. There will be no displays of affection. There will be no touching. You will only speak with one another when either parent is present. Melborn you may keep living in the apartment, but Sidney you are to return home and stay there for the remainder of your college education. Melborn since you're keeping the apartment, you will stay in NYU. Sidney, you will withdraw from NYU this quarter and enroll in another university closer to home. You may choose what school you will attend. The two of you will see a professional therapist separately every week. These sessions will last indefinitely, or until normalcy has been achieved. Your progress will be decided by your parents. The two of you are expected to find relationships outside of this one. You must maintain said relationships and you will report back every Sunday evening for dinner at home.

"Insubordination will lead to being disowned. You will lose everything—all monetary allowances for bills, rent, books, tuition. You will be cut off from any inheritance, any help. Lastly, your indiscretions will be reported to the proper authorities. Mark and Sylvia will do what has to be done to ensure a prison sentence. Not just for one of you, but both. They are prepared to go that far if need be."

Chester looks up towards the twins from his paperwork, chestnut brown eyes sympathetic before painted indifference scrambles to take its place.

And Anna's at a loss for words. Because this ultimatum is just that…an ultimatum. It's ultimatum bordering blackmail.

It is blackmail…

She swallows the painful itch clambering up her throat, the hollowness of her stomach matching Mel's stoic expression. Aside from the constant aggravated twitch along his jawline, he remains impassive, his eyes staring and unfocused on his lap. Sidney's face is turned towards the wall away from their parents, cheek pressed tightly against her twin's uninjured arm and fingers grasping tremulously with Mel's own. She's shaking, and although Anna can't see her undoubtedly tear stricken face, she can feel the utter helplessness coating over the other girl like a suffocating blanket.

Her mind pulls her out of that dead end. Because there has to be another way. They can't agree to this.

She wouldn't be able to. If this was her and Elsa, there is no way in hell they'd be separated from some flimsy agreement, jail sentence be damned.

Shuffles gather her attention, Mel straightening his posture and looking ahead, towards his mother. His eyes pass from her to his dad, pursed lips curling ever downward before clarity and decision flashes through his eyes.

"I want an emancipation."

His words pull Sidney from her position, similar orbs looking at her brother in shock, but he's resolute on keeping his stare towards their parents, both pale and dumbfounded amidst the dim fluorescent lighting. Protest erupts from Sidney in the form of a choked gasp that sounds a lot and nothing like his name, but Mel's hold on her hand merely tightens.

"I want an emancipation," he repeats, eyes glaring to and from both parents, a sliver of wetness coating his anger filled eyes. "I don't want anything to do with either of you. I don't want your help. I don't want your money. I don't want that apartment. I don't want anything from you."

"Mel…"

Sidney's broken call fills the room, her free hand tugging at his hospital gown in the hopes of pulling him out of this.

While there's still a chance to go back.

But Mel merely shakes his head, lips pursing into thin bloodless lines. His eyes glitter with unshed tears both hands balling into shaky fists that he curls inwards towards his body, as if trying to absorb the fury and pain into his already battered system.

And still, there's nothing from the elder Sullivans, but dead silence. For the first time in their life, Anna suspects that maybe they've become lost for words. But there's no way in hell they could've possibly thought that they could just get their way like this. Not without consequences.

Surprisingly enough, it's Chester who steps forward, papers placed atop the foot of the bed and looking at his nephew sadly through his thick frames.

"You can do that," he nods and keeps eye contact with Mel until the young man looks back at him.

"Chester!"

His words seem to bring back the elder Sullivans because Sylvia is suddenly hissing his name. It doesn't take his attention away from Mel though, the disbelief coloring forest green eyes tinged with suspicion.

"When your parents came up to me with this…agreement…I knew it wouldn't be received very well. It comes in a place that's too stringent, where there are absolutely zero gray areas. But you can't possibly fault them for it. Neither of you can. What you're doing with each other…it's not right. It's…hurtful, and abusive. It…"

Chester trails off, Mel's eyes breaking the tenuous contact and dragging back across his lap. He shakes his head repeatedly, a weak, forced chuckle, mirthless and lifeless, rumbling out of his chest.

"Hurtful," Mel repeats, voice laced with dry humor. "Abusive…" He looks back up to his uncle, orbs darting across his parents and his features shifting to utmost rebellion. "What Sidney and I do…how we feel for each other…You've known us all our lives Uncle Chester. You've seen this family through. When the economy was in recession and dad lost his business and he came home drunk every night hitting every little thing until it graduated to me. That's hurtful. That's abusive. When mom threw words around like 'disappointed' and 'useless' every damn day to Sidney, that's hurtful. That's abusive.

"Never mind that we always tried our best. We were in the top ten of our classmates in high school…and that wasn't good enough. We got into our first choice university…and that wasn't enough. Nothing is ever good enough. Nothing! The only positive constance…is this."

He sweeps his bruised hand back along Sidney's, fingers intertwining, eyes flashing, daring his parents to say something. He doesn't allow them to have a single word in.

"It's always been this. Do you know how all of this started?" He asks rhetorically, grasping his twin's hand until both of their knuckles are bone white and raising it a few inches from the bed. "How this relationship came to be? I'm sure you have a small idea. You denied extracurricular activities in school. We weren't allowed to have friends. You expected us to be home the moment the bell rang. We couldn't even hang out with people we know in the weekends. You controlled every aspect of our lives.

"How are you surprised that because of your dictatorship that we couldn't rely on anyone else but each other? How are you able to stand there and act as if none of this is on you? Sidney and I…we became each other's universe because no one else could be. No one else was allowed to be. You made damn sure of that. And now, here you are again…a contract, an agreement in hand…with our lawyer uncle…because talking to us like regular, normal adults is just too fuckin' difficult." Mel stares heavily at his father, lips curling in absolute hatred. "If I didn't allow you to hit Sidney when I was thirteen what makes you think I'd stop now?" His eyes flit towards his mother. "When holding her while she was crying, because you were and still are an emotionally abusive bitch, was all that I could do, what makes you think I'd stop now?"

A pregnant pause follows his loud query, eyes drifting between both parents who look to be both angry and speechless simultaneously.

When there's no reply from either one, he shrugs his good shoulder, his face turning towards his sister's and laying a soft kiss atop her forehead. "There's absolutely nothing either of you could do to keep me and her apart," he mutters, his lips brushing against his twin's skin as he speaks. "Throw us in jail. Do whatever you want. When we get out…we'll be together again…and we'll finally be rid of you. I'll look forward to seeing how you'll handle all of it though. All the questions people will ask…How you could possibly have allowed it to go on under your roof and not have seen anything." He smirks, gathers Sidney to him who looks pensive and thoughtful within his embrace. "I want an emancipation. I can't talk for Sid because it's her decision in the end to remain tied to you, but I won't subject myself to this anymore."

"I'm with you."

Sidney's voice, though quiet and soft, is clear. It feels as if everything else just disappears in that moment. As if they can't see their parents shooting their uncle a look to somehow fix this. When he looks just as a loss for words as they are, Sylvia steps forward, her features dark promising.

"You think we're bluffing?" she asks, without really asking. She doesn't stop or pause for an answer to an apparent rhetoric question, forest green eyes boring a hole directly to her son who stares just as coldly back. "This isn't a game Melborn. Do not throw words around and expect zero consequences. You'd like an emancipation? Let me give you an idea on what that means. Everything you and Sidney has taken from me and your father since you've turned eighteen, you will give back. Loans, bills, tuition money. Everything. You were no longer obligated to stay in our house after you've turned of age, but you did. You did and you may have thought you had no obligation for the roof above your heads and the clothes that have kept you warm, but that becomes null and void when our rules were neglected.

"Everything that we've provided for has now turned into a loan…and I intend to collect every single dime. I will drag you and Sidney until there's no fight left and you're left begging for scraps that will not be given to you."

"It's a good thing he has a good lawyer that can poke holes in every single one of your testimonies then."

Anna's not sure how she didn't hear them come—not even sure how long they've been standing at the foot of the door. Elsa gives her a small nod and a brief smile, her lungs flaring in relief at the tiny gesture, before acknowledging Kristoff and the twins, light blue eyes darting over Mel's general form and lips pursing at the obvious strain she can see his still resting body needs. Michael Zhang steps confidently in the room, left hand holding a black briefcase and right hand coming up towards Mel first, and Sidney second, in a polite and professional handshake.

"Michael Zhang," he introduces himself, his youthful face clear of worry and a warm smile atop curled lips. "Miss Andersen," he sweeps a hand towards Elsa, "has expressed your need of a legal counsel. Of course you're more than welcome to refuse, but from what little I've heard, you might need my help."

Mel glances towards the blonde who steps forward as well. To Anna's growing mirth, she has yet to acknowledge the occupants in the other side of the room, choosing instead to plaintively ignore them. The hand that she lifts to reside atop the redhead's shoulder looks and feels second nature, and Anna can't explain it—wouldn't be able to if she tried. With just Elsa's presence, it's as if the room's balance tips. When there was an overwhelming sense of despondency, now there's a tinge of relief. The anger, not quite gone, has been replaced with a sense of carefulness.

Anna feels the long fingers atop her shoulder curl in a private show of support, and it feels like she can breathe easier—as if the responsibility unknowingly placed on her shoulders have been lifted.

"Mel, it's good to see you up," Elsa says, smooth lips forming a genuine smile.

Mel answers back, but his expression is muted—pained. "Kind of wishing I was in better condition…" he mutters, narrowed eyes dragging across the room. "Should've been prepared for an ambush…"

Elsa merely shrugs. "Don't worry," she replies easily, the camaraderie between them poignant, tangible. "I've seen to this scenario and have planned accordingly."

A pregnant pause passes between them, an unspoken understanding in a language that must only be decipherable by the oldest children of a family and the responsibility it comes with. Maybe even more specifically to people experienced in their specific circumstance. Whatever the case, Anna feels she may never really know the silent conversation the two eldest siblings are having right in front of her.

With a heaving sigh, Mel nods at Elsa, his green eyes drifting back towards Michael and offering him a grimaced smile. "We accept your counsel Mr. Zhang."

The lawyer's smile merely widens, his entire body turning finally towards the other occupants of the room. His entire countenance is easy, confident, and with a hint of cockiness borderline arrogance. His eyes drift calculatingly, first to Sylvia, then to her husband, and lastly to the other lawyer in the room, giving him a once over and clearly unimpressed by the end of the small open observation.

"I'm Michael Zhang, Melborn Sullivan and Sidney Sullivan's legal counsel," he begins, sharp eyes locked with Chester's. "From this moment on, only you and I may speak regarding this case. Advise your clients that any form of contact with my clients without my prior knowledge is strictly illegal, and I do not make idle threats on this specific matter. They are not to speak or acknowledge them even when they are in the same room. All questions will be directed to you which will then be directed to me. Any more than that and I consider it to be harassment which I will take up to the proper authorities.

"It is in my clients' best interest that all matters tonight will be deferred at a later date when they are both rested and of clear and sound mind and body. Judging from Mr. Sullivan's state, I do not foresee this date to be at least one week from now—

"One week?!" The outburst comes from Mrs. Sullivan, but Michael either chooses not to respond or ignores her completely.

His steady gaze remains upon the other lawyer, continuing fluidly, "…when he's made a substantial recovery and is able to think much more clearly without the influence of narcotics in his system. This will give you time to prepare for this case considering it's not merely an emancipation proclamation, but with charges on both sides. Advise your clients that if they are to seek monetary gain from this case that they'll be willing to subject their personal lives into every single matter I will get my hands on…and I promise that by the time I'm done, no rock will be unturned. If they wish ill will on their children, they better be ready to accept all consequences."

The silence after his monologue is palpable, the beads of sweat formulating over Chester's forehead trickling down before a damp handkerchief swipes them away. He nods understandingly after another brief moment, turning to the elder Sullivans and shaking his head in what seems to be an almost disappointed gesture.

"You will also find that all outstanding payments, since Mr. Sullivan's admittance to the hospital and any future outstanding bills, are no longer your clients' responsibilities and are being handled by a third party. As such, and with the progression of this case and my clients' wishes, your clients are not to be within fifty yards of either of my clients at any given time with the exception of a scheduled meeting." Michael turns to Mel, nodding at him briefly before asking, "Mr. Sullivan, would you be impartial to a scheduled meeting at this very moment?"

Mel merely gives out a tired, "No…"

Michael seeks Sidney's attention next. "Miss Sullivan, would you be impartial to a meeting with your parents to discuss this case right at this very moment?"

"Not at all."

The Chinese man turns back towards Chester. "My clients are not privy to a meeting. Your clients no longer have familial obligation to be in this room. They also have no financial obligation to be in this room. Please advise them to leave or I will take my first step in acquiring a harassment case against them that will not sit prettily in front of court."

"Do you even have a restraining order for…" Mr. Sullivan trails off as the sharp clicks of Michael's suitcase rings through the heavy air.

Numerous pieces of paper are held up in the air momentarily, each one signed and notarized at the bottom.

Michael still doesn't look at the spouse when he states, "When Miss Andersen says that we've planned for this…we really, truly have. With Melborn and Sidney's verbal agreement, all of this becomes valid. And with each second your clients stay here already knowing that they're unwelcome—that it's unlawful…"

"Let's go."

Chester doesn't wait for the husband and wife. He merely puts away his items in his suitcase and begins making his way out.

"You can't be serious? Chester!" Sylvia calls, but begins following him regardless, side eyeing her children as she crosses the room.

The mousy man turns around abruptly, sausage like fingers jabbing at his sister's direction. "This is what happens when you bring lawyers into the fold," he hisses, eyes dragging to Mark and back to her. "You two wanted this to be this massive case your kids wouldn't be able to handle so they'll give up, and now…now we have a legal battle. I do accident cases. I'm not even equipped to deal with family court crap. What I do know—what I advise is that both of you get the hell out of here. You do not want that restraining order taking into effect. If we ever get to see court, it won't look good…at all."

He reaches into his coat and pulls out a business card, handing it over to Michael who accepts it with a short nod.

"I'll get in touch with you later this week…for a scheduled meeting. I'm guessing…you'd want it after Saturday?"

Michael smirks. "Predictably."

Chester swears under his breath, turns, and leaves without another word, only glaring at his sister and in-law pointedly so that neither can say any more than they have. Sylvia follows with a discernible huff and Mark turns to Michael, eyeing his obviously expensive suit. He looks like he means to say something—even glares at the direction of his children who are staring back at him in equal parts disbelief and weariness, but maybe thinks better of it, turns and hulks out of the room after his wife. Only when their shuffles become ghosts of an otherwise empty hallway does the tense silence in the room break, Mel's shuffles and pained grunts cutting the heaviness permeating every corner.

"We can't afford this…"

It's obviously the wrong thing to say. Anna's sounding something close to refute at the mere words, but her sister stops her with just one squeeze of the shoulder, standing next to Michael who says nothing—merely waits for her.

Light blues lock with pained forest greens, Mel's expression a highlight of humiliation and distress.

"Everything that's happened to you is my fault."

Cries of disbelief resound across the room, Anna's the loudest, at Elsa's loaded statement. She palms a hand up in the air, silences everyone effectively, and keeps her eyes onto the older boy.

"We can disagree until our voices are hoarse, but it won't get us anywhere," she continues simply. "I think what we can agree on is that you're here because of your affiliation to me, Anna, and the repeal. Because of your continued support to this cause, you've been reduced to a hospital bed and viral-wide humiliation. The least I can do, because I had an inkling a backlash like this would happen within your family, is to front everything. Michael's the family lawyer. He will do everything he can to make sure you and your wishes are properly represented. Whatever the expenses are have already been paid. There is no refund. I do not expect repayment."

Mel lowers his gaze to his covered knees and shakes his head, his knuckles white against his sister's hand and the hospital bed's sheets. His clenched jaw opens, words attempting to formulate, but Elsa shakes her head, sits at the edge of the bed and gathers his attention once more.

"Mel, I cannot begin to fathom how it's really like at your end," she says softly. She glances up at Sidney who looks on quietly, her attention transfixed to an unyielding hand hold. "But I can understand. I can empathize. Because as hard it is to see you here in your current state, it's even harder for me to imagine if it were Anna. And I know that's a selfish thing to say. But I think, you of all people, can understand and appreciate where I'm coming from."

He nods, looks up at Sidney and smiles, his bruised lips cracking to form another cut. "Better me than her," he says softly and looks back at Elsa. "Better you than Anna."

And of course Anna wants to refute. Wants to say that it should be no one, but she knows that's no longer applicable in the world they're living in.

"I want your health and Sidney's well-being to be in the forefront of your mind. I'd like it if you can prioritize what's important and shove everything else aside. Your health, your sister, your family situation. I want these as your priority. Not…not what happens now that you've missed finals or how much every day in a hospital room costs. There will come a time for those worries, but right now, they're very much inconsequential. I will help with everything that I can, because that's what friends do.And at the very least, you and Sidney are our friends…and that's not something I take lightly. What's happened to you and what will continue to happen to you, is not something I take lightly. Please let us help. Please."

The room is rife with tension after Elsa's request, Mel holding her stare resolutely.

"We won't be able to pay you back for this."

The blonde nods in clear understanding, but the older boy continues resolutely, "But when the time comes when we can…when we are able to give something back—whatever it may be, you can't say no. You have to accept it blindly, just like what we're doing now. It's only fair."

Elsa nods, an understanding smile forming a beatific face. "I agree and accept. It's only fair."

Mel smiles, wide and almost carefree, but a pained hiss follows and everyone knows another bout of rest is past due. As if knowing this as well, the nurse from earlier comes back, a syringe in hand and giving everyone in the room a small smile before turning her undivided attention to her patient.

"I don't think it's a good idea to push this any further back than we need to," she says with an almost reprimanding air.

"I completely agree," Mel replies, shifting further into his bed and giving his sister's hand a small squeeze.

Sidney looks towards him questioningly and sees the resoluteness in his face.

"Go home and rest there for the evening."

"Mel—

"You haven't slept properly for days Sid," he says firmly, unlocking their hands and palming a sallow cheek, thumb rubbing the darkened bags beneath tired eyes. "I'm up. I'm here. I won't go anywhere. Please go home. Rest. Shower." He grins cheekily. "You stink."

"You ass!"

He laughs and the moment feels suddenly so private that Anna looks away, towards her sister who's looking back at her with a soft smile. An idea forms and it's out before she can even think it.

"You can go back home with us."

The siblings look at the redhead, Elsa nodding wordlessly in agreement as Anna looks back towards them. She smiles encouragingly at Sidney. "So I can come back here with you tomorrow too," she continues with a simple shrug.

"A whole lot better than the apartment our parents are paying for." Mel's input serves as the final argument Sidney needs before she's nodding, albeit hesitantly.

"Okay," the brunette says with a resigned sigh, looking up at the generic clock hanging over the door and noting the extremely late hour. She turns towards Elsa, her eyes flitting at the door where the bodyguards are still standing. "Will…"

But Elsa seemingly understands, getting up from the bed as well and patting her clothes off of nonexistent wrinkles. "There will always be two guards at the door. Always."

This placates her and has her moving up as well, bending over and giving a small kiss atop Mel's temple.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

They keep each other's stare momentarily, each second loaded with things unsaid.

Mel nods, too seriously, and grips Sidney's hand one last time. "I'll see you tomorrow." He turns to Elsa then Anna, at a loss momentarily for words before sighing deeply. "Thank you. I…"

He trails off as Anna gathers his shoulders in for a side hug. "Thank us by getting out of here as soon as possible," the redhead says half-jokingly.

He nods once, swiftly. "I will." He turns lastly to Kristoff who only gives him an understanding smile. "Thanks for coming Bjorgman."

Kristoff grins easily. "Anytime Sully."

The nurse takes this as her final go-ahead to insert the bolus in his IV, the effects almost instantaneous, and leaving soon after as well. The entire group stays momentarily, eyes on Sidney as she draws careful fingers over oily hair and pulling the blanket just a bit higher across Mel's chest. It's another minute before she's gathers a deep breath and nods, mostly to herself, eyeing the exit warily and stepping forward.

Anna smiles at her patiently, holding an elbow out for her that she takes willingly in appreciation. The brunette looks back at least ten times before they even make it to the elevator, but no one says a word. It's an unspoken understanding: this is difficult, this is painful.

Somehow, they'll trudge through it.

O—O—O

Sleep doesn't come easily. Her mind is abuzz of possibilities, moves.

The wait is the hardest.

The wait is what drives people the craziest.

If she hasn't been well-versed in the act of patience, she surmises she would've folded by now from the overbearing pressure all around her. Instead, in the quiet dawn of an early sunrise, she's calculating—making moves.

Waiting…

Waiting…

Anna shifts atop her, head burying deeper in the crook of her neck. Elsa's at least thankful her sister's given a night of dreamless sleep. If one of them is deserving of a restful night, it's certainly her.

The blonde's lips hover over sweet smelling hair, places a chaste kiss atop it and holds the smaller girl tighter.

"Forgive me."

Her whisper is drowned out by a small snore, the weight of her actions hanging heavily in her chest. She's planned for this. And it will work—she knows it. It's just…

It's not as if she's unfamiliar with sacrifice. Usually, though, she's at the receiving end of it—happily become a martyr to achieve an end goal. The fact that she's not, this time around—that she's the one making all of the decisions, but receiving none of the consequences feels weightier—a boulder sitting atop her chest right over her lungs.

It's hurts to breathe. It stutters her heart.

She can still stop it. It's not too late…

And yet…

Her fingers slide through copper strands, the pads of her fingertips gripping a smooth scalp. She can't help, but place another kiss on the sleeping girl, this time placed at her hairline. Her lips remain infused on warm skin, her mind far from the usual comfort her sister brings from mere presence.

The what ifs clog her mind. Anna's reaction if she were ever to find out the lengths the blonde would go to for her general well-being.

And that's why she can't know.

She can't know about this…

A buzz sounds at her ear and she makes the most effort in getting the phone without jostling the girl atop her. She presses the button and sees the message, squinting her eyes at the sudden glare of light.

Some activity last night. I have a good feeling about this morning.

Elsa sighs, turns the phone off, and looks back up towards the ceiling.

She wonders briefly at what end a person stops becoming a hero and when they slowly devolve into a villain.

She's certainly in that grey area.

She stays up, watches the light slowly, but surely chase away the darkness from the room. The ticking clock still signifies the early hour, and her mind does the math easily enough. She's clocking at thirty hours without sleep—one mere twenty minute power nap in between hour sixteen and seventeen. And still, her nerves are alight from mere possibilities, her mind twisting in all the different scenarios this can end and attempting to formulate every one with a viable answer—a clear end that doesn't justify in heartbreak.

At 6:54, exactly fifty-five minutes from her last text, her phone buzzes again, continuously.

Activity.

Target is with a man.

They've just exited the apartment complex.

A van's pulled up next to them.

The man is knocked down.

Target's been taken.

Following at a safe distance as instructed.

It's begun…just as planned—as assumed.

Elsa sighs, the prickling in her throat uncomfortable. She turns the phone off again and continues her stare off with the ceiling. For the umpteenth time she's wondering if this is the right call—if there's a facet to it she hadn't foreseen.

She can still call it off. Or let it continue. Tell Anna. Tell her everything.

But she doesn't think her sister will understand the whys. She'll understand…but she won't stand by for it. It's easier this way. Less messy. There will be pain, but just like with Mel and Sidney, it will be a passing thing.

Something she can fix with a lawyer and money.

Her right fist curls into the bedsheets, grips and pulls, the anger in her throat searing, making her body tremble momentarily until she's able to force the self-disgust back into nothingness.

Don't wake her, her mind chides. You've prepared for this. Make your bed. Lie on it.

Her mind goes back to the preparation. If she's missed a step or miscalculated somehow. Because there's a small chance this could very well backfire—blow up in her face as many things have been wont to do since this entire debacle began.

It shouldn't. Her inner voice is weak—zero conviction. But it's what the preparation was for. All the options regarded, flipped back to front and sideways in her mind. All so that this in-between area where more waiting for the inevitable ends exactly as how she's predicted it would.

After all, there's no losing if you know the cards in everyone's hand, right?

The impeccable timing of Anna's phone shrilling in the early morning air, destroying any semblance of peace and tranquility, makes the dread curd in her stomach. Elsa's learned too early that there are no such things as coincidences.

"Whassit?" Anna's voice is rife with sleep, her face leaning out of the comfort of Elsa's neck and towards the onslaught of noise.

The older girl attempts to reach for Anna's phone before it can truly rouse her, but in record time the smaller girl is up, straddling her waist, one hand rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and the other reaching for the shrilly phone just barely out of the blonde's reach.

The curses in Elsa's head light in a multitude of firecrackers, her eyes trained on her sister's face for a sign. Her mind supplies sarcastically that she should know where this is going.

Turquoise eyes squint at the caller ID before answering the call and pressing it against her ear. "Hello?" she answers, voice still rough from sleep.

Elsa's ears pick up a man's voice in the background, panicked and rushed. Then she sees Anna's eyes widen, the remnants of sleep chased soundly away, and bites the expletive forming at the tip of her tongue. The redhead scrambles off of her body, the biting cold taking her place harsh and swift, and gets out of the bed in record time, a free hand grabbing a discarded leather jacket and shrugging it on without preamble. Elsa follows much more slowly, stands at the side of the bed with her hand curled over her stomach while eyeing the phone still glued on Anna's ear, hear the deep voice of a still murmuring stranger, and watches helplessly as the dread grows steadily upon her sister's face.

"Where are you?" Anna asks obviously cutting off the man still in the middle of rambling. She waits a beat and then, "I'll be there as quickly as I can. Do you know where they could've gone?"

The answer is obviously in the negative, the redhead's face screwing in pain and consternation. She drags a heavy hand through her unscrupulous hair and groans, and the look of pure agony gracing her features makes the burn in Elsa's chest flare pronouncedly.

She wants to ask what's wrong…feign ignorance, but she already knows.

"Jenna's been taken."

Anna's voice is tight, tears splashing out of reddened eyes and trickling over quivering lips. She's shaking and all the blonde wants to do is gather her in for a hug and tell her that she'll handle it. That all they have to do is wait it out. This whole mess can be fixed if they just sit and wait. Yet all her mind can supply is that Anna wasn't supposed to know in the first place.

So the smaller girl doesn't have to bear the pain of waiting for an outcome that is wholly positive, but momentarily painful.

This wasn't planned.

"H-Hans was with her. They got ambushed in front of her apartment. I'm picking him up. We're gonna go look for her."

"Anna—

The redhead's words are quick: a list she's ticking off in her head line by line to assuage the growing anxiety trickling out of her pores. "Go to Matthias. Strike up the deal. Give him whatever he wants."

"Anna—

"Please, Elsa." The panic is now discernible in her sister's frame, as if her skin's suddenly too tight and she wants to go everywhere at once and it's the only thing stopping her from doing so. Guilt sits heavily atop blue-green irises. It mirrors Elsa's to such a tee, but the older girl knows too much is going on in Anna's mind to really notice it. "I can't have anyone else hurt because of me. I can't."

I know…Elsa wants to say, and she's stuck between telling her everything just to protect her from going out. But she knows she can't. Anna won't understand—won't be able to fathom how she's come to this decision without the possibility of hating her. The hollowness of her chest seeks to reach out—to comfort the smaller girl, but unable. She feels all sorts of dirty and undeserving, especially after what she's done. So she stands where she is, eyes glued on her sister as the redhead finishes up her phone call and reaches for her pants and keys to her motorcycle. The last action at least wakes her up from her guilt-induced stupor, damage control first and foremost.

"Burke and Munro will go with you. They'll drive."

Anna shakes her head.

"This is not negotiable, Anna."

"They can come. We can cover more ground if we're all searching in different vehicles. I'll conference call them so they know what's happening to me at all times. I'm sure they have a tracker they can put on me too, just in case. Elsa, we're wasting time."

The blonde wants to take more of it—every little bit. The more she keeps Anna away, the better probability this has of turning in their favor. But her sister's already at the door, hands brushing her hair back and pulling it into a messy ponytail.

"Peter! Stuart!" she calls through the hallway, the two bodyguards appearing no less than fifteen seconds later and eyeing the silent sisters with concern. Anna explains everything in chopped sentences as she begins walking out of the room, the two grown men nodding at proper intervals with clear understanding of the situation while following her.

Elsa's still rooted in her spot, the roaring in her ears drowning out her sister's voice until it's merely a murmur at the end of the hallway.

A mocking voice sounds out in the back of her mind about planning out every single scenario and yet not being able to see and plan for this one that reality's served.

The best laid plans indeed…

She backs up until she feels the side of the bed behind her legs and crumples into it, the palms of her hands coming up to her eyes and pressing in until she sees spots. She wants to be angry at herself for even thinking this as not only a viable option, but the one she's decided to come to fruition.

How stupid…and selfish.

Anna's going to hate you if she finds out.

And yet…she'd still make the same decision.

She'd rather go down the rabbit hole alone. Her sister has no place in that dark and dangerous void. The blonde on the other hand…

It's probably the only place truly befitting of her.

A single caress takes Elsa out of her mind, her palms uncovering her eyes and seeing Anna before her, lips bitten in obvious worry and eyes still red from the sudden onslaught of earlier tears.

"I'll be okay," the younger girl says softly, but with obvious conviction behind her words. Her smooth hands curl upon Elsa's face, bending lower to press their lips in a hard kiss. "I'll be back and…we can figure this out together."

And of course, even when there's a kidnapped friend she has to find, Anna still takes the time to assure her. Elsa can only nod, the pit of her stomach curdling in inward self-hatred.

"In the meanwhile…"

"I'll talk to Matthias," the blonde finishes, her voice a weak whisper between them.

"I love you Elsa," her sister proclaims, dipping low to give her another swift kiss she can't return before rushing out of the room a second time. "I'll be back soon, I promise!"

The older girl listens to the pitter patter of her feet until they're a memory, the sounds of a car and motorcycle leaving the compound in tandem only a minute later. Her mind is awhirl of actions not yet made, glazed eyes stuck on a vanity she doesn't see.

Fix this.

She closes her eyes firmly for just a moment, hands balling into frustrated fists as she makes up her mind.

She could let the entire thing go. Ride it out and wait as was the plan to begin with. The fact that her sister's out there shouldn't change anything, but it's not something she can chance. Matthias would know that Anna's already out and looking for her friend. It's not even a question of he does or doesn't. And mixing the old man into anything creates uncertainty she doesn't want her sister anywhere near.

She already told Anna she'd speak with the old man anyway…She can't stretch the half truths into complete lies.

When she opens her eyes, she sees Kai at the doorway, his expression familiar in its pity.

The anger, more from herself than anything, attempts to crawl it's way out of her lodged throat and into a fierce, strangled cry. She reins it in, but barely.

"Mr. Christensen has just sent his butler to invite you to breakfast at his manor," Kai says, his eyes never leaving hers or dissipating in worry. "I told them you'd accept and to give you fifteen minutes to prepare."

Elsa swallows her feelings down and stands back up to her full height, fingers craning over her temples and massaging the slow throb emanating from her perpetual frown. She nods once, and the old man understands without another word. Leaves her to her contemplation.

More moves to make.

More decisions to uphold.

She's wishes briefly that there's someone to tell her if she's doing anything right.

O—O

The first thing that crosses Elsa's mind is that Matthias' study is overwhelmingly similar to the one in her estate. And then the thought gets crushed because the older gentleman is staring at her with unabashed scrutiny from behind his desk, and his sharp eyes demand no more than her undivided attention.

"Good morning," he greets, a knowing smirk upon his olden visage. He gives a brief glance behind her, surprise painting his features when he sees that she's alone. "I would expect at least Kai to be with you."

"We have a guest that needs his attention more."

Matthias nods understandingly, gesturing to the vacant chairs in front of his desk. She takes the left one due to habit.

It's barely 7:30 and he's already donning a three piece suit: pinstriped and navy blue. It gives his eyes a sharp grey glint. He looks immaculate and well-groomed, as usual. A part of her wants to reach over the hulking desk and smack the combed white strands out of their place just to make him seem more human.

"How are the Sullivans faring?" he asks, posture perfect and fingers steeping under his nose.

Of course he'd know about that too…

"Fine," Elsa answers, cold and clipped. She tells herself to push the growing wariness and anxiety her brain keeps pulsing—warning from just being in the same room as him.

It doesn't do anything to look fearful…again.

Their last meeting is still so fresh in her mind.

She gathers her wits and sits up as well, back straight, chin jutted out, and hands firmly folded over her crossed legs. Even though she's not confident, she hopes she can at least look the part. Matthias' smile merely widens.

"Does you sister know?"

The question takes her aback, just momentarily. Aside from a clamped jaw and a sudden inhale, she gives nothing else outwardly. Instead she answers with a single hook of an eyebrow in silent query.

"That you pulled Jenna's security detail after one mere night?" Matthias continues, happily partaking in playing the game.

Elsa can't meet his eyes at the accusation, but her silence is all telling.

"It's a good move," he states, voice oddly tinged with pride. "Smart. Calculating." He licks his lips and smirks knowingly. "Devious."

"And yet, I'm still here," Elsa speaks, voice dry and sarcastic. A part of her is glad that she can still speak clearly and confidently through the block tightly lodged in her throat.

"Well, that's just because you're not as well-versed in chess as I am," the old man says simply.

It should sound a lot like a gloat, but Elsa hears it exactly as how he meant to deliver it: a fact supplied and nothing more.

His chair creaks as he leans more comfortably in it, giving her a small, almost cordial, smile. "I knew you pulled her detail the moment it was done." He starts again with zero preamble, knowing the two of them are on the same page. "Was it done to goad me?"

Elsa keeps her breathing even, the musty smell of books and paper keeping her heart rate steady. She clears her throat and looks at him evenly, unwilling to be intimidated even when she's so obviously come here to beg. "You claimed you had zero say in the kidnappers' actions. I wanted to catch you in your lie."

His eyes glint in amusement. "Consider me red handed."

He stands up suddenly, prompting her to sit even straighter, back cocked alertly. He merely buttons his blazer over his waistcoat, pushes his chair back, and begins making his way out of the room, a small nod for her to follow the only indication given.

Elsa questions following him for a moment—verbally address her discontent, but figures she has no say regardless. He waits for her though, at the foot of the door, and she takes her time following him out, feeling the power play in every single action they both expel.

"So you pull this Jenna's protective detail and in their stead you place a tailer," he continues in his smooth voice as soon as she's up and walking beside him. She follows him wordlessly down the long hallway and down the descending stairs, her eyes locked on what's in front of them instead of at him. "Tell me, did she win the lottery or was being Anna's ex-girlfriend a deciding factor?"

Her head whips at his accusation, anger and frustration bubbling uncomfortably in her throat. They stop walking, outrage flaring in growing trembles as her teeth grit loudly through a clamped jaw. She barely notices the activity stopping around her—at the sheer amount of workers suddenly stopping what they're doing and eyeing them cautiously—eyeing her.

The genial smile from Matthias' face disappears, and for a moment he looks genuinely apologetic. "I've crossed a line," he says softly, hand coming up and palming the air. Activity continues around them, everyone resuming their tasks, and only then did Elsa realize she could've crossed a line of her own. She shares a bated breath with the old man before he turns and begins walking again. He continues on, as if there wasn't a reason for derailment to begin with. "You did this, not because you don't like her, but because she's a good sacrifice as any. You anticipate that if I were to see that she doesn't have a protective detail that I would send her to be targeted and the zealots under my thumb would see that she was in the rally and is as good an option as any. Goading them towards a viable target isn't very difficult. All that matters is that they're given ample evidence that she's somehow related to Anna and hurting anyone so close to the repeal is a victory in and of itself."

They near a sliding door, the butler with the mustache and short brown hair opening it with a flourish to a patio outside. The refreshing breeze of the early morning tacked with the smell of fresh rain from the last couple of days enters her lungs, rejuvenates her and removes the stifling feeling brought on ironically by being in the mansion. Although she suspects the wariness is brought on by her company rather than her actual placement. The sun is already up, promising at least a warm day and the clouds are ghostly mists fighting futilely against the rays. By noon, the sky will be blue, the day will be hot, and there will be no reprieve from the burn.

They walk to a patio dining set, the wicker chairs and heavy oaken table looking like they've come straight out of a catalogue. Two placemats are laid: one at the headmost portion of the table, and the other to it's rightmost side. Matthias predictably takes the head seat and gestures for her to sit as well. There's an array of fruits easily reachable by both of them and numerous liquids to quench any thirst. Elsa makes no move to grab anything, merely sits ramrod on her plushy chair and looks over the contemplating man expectedly.

He reaches for a grape, tears it from the vine and pops it in his mouth. "Just so we're clear on the matter, I called you on your bluff just as you called me on mine. The other targets? I didn't choose. I could care less who it is so long as there's a battered face to show the world. When you pulled Jenna's protective detail, I saw it exactly as how you meant for me to see it: a challenge. If I wasn't meant to see it, it's only a matter of time until the kidnappers see her as a potential target."

"I was hoping for the latter," Elsa says tightly, eyes gazing at the leaves littering the dirty pool.

"It wouldn't have mattered either way," he says, and in a way he's kind of agreeing with her. "In the end she makes for a nice sacrificial lamb—a pawn for an interesting game."

The blonde's eyes narrow at how blasé he makes a person's life sound, but can't bring herself to say anything. Based on her actions from the past couple of days, she's starting to feel like they're cut from the same, ugly cloth.

"So that leaves us to this morning. She gets kidnapped, she's tossed in a van, your tailer is…tailing them and I assume after they make their pit stop, he calls for the proper authorities?"

She doesn't correct him, merely stares at the pool and the ripples the water makes from the gentle breeze. She can feel him studying her, and makes the mistake of locking eyes with him again. She knows exactly when he can see right through her.

"You weren't going to do anything."

Elsa attempts to swallow, to relieve the burning ache in her throat but everything remains dry—uncomfortable. The hollowness in her chest has expanded to her entire body, and a part of her feels that this—listening to him recount her wretched decisions is a form of punishment she must endure.

"Your tailer would videotape everything…catch them all in the act. But he wouldn't stop them…as per your prior instruction."

"Don't sound so proud," she mutters, teeth gritting subconsciously.

They're interrupted momentarily and she's so utterly relieved by it that she expels an outward sigh before she can help herself. Matthias smiles, all mirth and no hostility as his butler shuffles in between them quietly, placing two plates of eggs Benedict and hash on each of their respective sides. He pours them both freshly squeezed orange juice and water from the pitcher before leaving again as unassumingly as he arrived.

"Not proud, per se," Matthias continues, a half grin still sitting atop his olden face. It takes Elsa aback that it gives him a youthfulness she never thought she'd see. He shrugs, as if it doesn't really matter. "No, maybe I am. Just a little bit." His teeth flash in pearly whites at her, light blue eyes carefree. "You're not afraid to fight fire with fire…and I respect that. I didn't think you'd have it in you."

"Not a compliment I care for," she murmurs under her breath, looks at the condensation crawling at the side of her orange juice glass, but doesn't reach for it, regardless of the still blaring discomfort in her throat.

Matthias shrugs again, takes the folded napkin placed with his utensils, and places it with a flourish on his lap, gathering the butter knife and fork right after and tucking in without another word. Predictably, Elsa doesn't—merely turns her nose away from the scent of food wafting in her nose and stares again at the pool.

She wishes they'd just get right into it…but knows it's not her call to make. He has all morning and knows that he has monopoly over her time too.

"Dig in," the older man says between bites. "I assure you the food's not tainted."

She believes him, but her appetite is as close to non-existent as it can be.

"No, thank you," she responds in turn, causing a rather dramatic sigh to come out of the man before her.

His easy smile is back on—a well worn mask in his large arsenal. "How shall I get you and your sister to join me for a meal, I wonder?" It looks as if he's thinking about it seriously for a second before shrugging it aside, washing his first couple bites with orange juice and cleaning the sides of his mouth with the napkin. "Now, where were we? Ahh, Anna's friend gets kidnapped. Planned. You wait it out and in a few hours time, you'll have the culprits held responsible and the worries surrounding this portion of the repeal is all but a memory. Jenna's well-being is…sacrificed, but chances are she'll be alive…and that'll just have to do.

"Curveball. Anna finds out. Elsa, in every scenario always make a Plan B of Anna finding out." It almost sounds like a berate. A lesson plan to be ticked off and learned. "Next time, let her know exactly what you plan to do—every single bullet point of your plan. Leaving her out gives your opponent—me, power, and that leaves you too many variables you do not want. You are teammates. Never forget that. You cannot make decisions that she doesn't know. It leaves both of you vulnerable.

"I correctly assumed that she didn't know about your intentions regarding Jenna because you and I both know that if she knew it would never get this far. She's not the type to sit back and just let things happen to anyone, least of all a friend, and of course, you can't convince her as such. It's just not who she is, hence why you couldn't tell her your plan to begin with."

"So it was doomed to fail at the start…"

Matthias shrugs. "As I said, I'm just more well-versed in this version of chess than you are. But…here's where you and I can make it interesting."

Her brows notch, her heart pulsing in anxiety as she discerns the excitement in his tone. It can't mean anything good…

"I'll ease your mind—your main concern. Anna is safe. Nothing will happen to her. You will see her in a couple of hours time physically unharmed. There is no exchange required for her well-being. I am guaranteeing it. She will not be harmed, or I will bleed dry those who are responsible."

The darkening of Matthias' features at the promise is obvious, and it completely takes Elsa aback. At a loss for words, she gathers a shaky, "Then what…"

"I would like you to call your tail off," he continues swiftly, cutting into the poached egg and watching it bleed into the english muffin.

"For Anna's safety?"

"No, I've already guaranteed that."

"Then, no."

The old man continues on undeterred. "I will also pay for their silence on any information they've gathered for you since the chase: any physical descriptions of the kidnappers and of course the license plate number of their car. I need your guarantee that you will not pursue them after the hand off is properly done."

"Unless we are negotiating for Anna's well-being, my answer is a clear and resounding no," Elsa repeats vehemently, the lone word choked and hard. She's almost out of her chair—sitting at the edge with only her hands gripping the handles keeping her from lashing outwardly. "I cannot, in good conscience, let them get away with anymore atrocities if I can do anything about it. Letting them go will give them the opportunity to strike another day—injure another person. The chances of that person being Anna is not something I will gamble and your word, regardless of how much you may stand behind them, is not good enough. I don't need your promise of protection when it comes to all of them. I'll take care of it myself. Anna and I will do your interview. Just…"

She trails off as Matthias shakes his head, eyes and features surprisingly remorseful.

"There's more at stake now than when that was brought up. You know this, Elsa."

The helplessness curls in her chest, watches silently as the old man reaches for his phone, dials a number, and puts it against his ear, sharp eyes locking morosely with her own. "It's me," he murmurs, jaw set and lips thinned. "If I call again, kill her."

He doesn't wait for a reply, merely ends the call and puts his phone face down with a resounding click on the surface of the table.

The once refreshingly cool air feels completely thinned. Nonexistent. With every passing second, Elsa's finding it harder and harder to breathe around the panic lodged in her throat as the implications of Mathias' words pound heavily in her brain.

"Before you make sudden assumptions, I will remind you that I've guaranteed your sister's safety."

His reminder takes her back to the moment—away from murderous thoughts and where she would be if she made sure the older man couldn't place another call.

"Anna's well-being is not targeted," he says simply, voice rough with unspoken emotion. "It never will be. That call was not for her. By the end of the day she will get her friend back. Whether Jenna is being wheeled in a bodybag or walking on her own volition is now up to you."

It takes a while for it to seep in, and Elsa hates it—hates herself, for finding reprieve in Anna's safety in direct correlation to her friend's life. Because while the option is a no-brainer (there's hardly an option at all), she still mulls over the possibility of choosing the harder path for a viable future.

But she already knows… the cost is too great.

Elsa looks up from her trembling hands, icicle eyes boring holes through her own, watching her every move. She sees curiosity mixed with empathy, confused of the latter emotion, before going back to the problem at hand.

"The life of one…or the safety of many?" Matthias murmurs, soft and introspective.

Elsa shakes her head, the decision already made. It's not her choice to make…even though Matthias is obviously serving it to her in a platter.

"It's funny, isn't it?" His voice is nary a whisper, taken away by the gentle breeze easily and without force. "Neither of us really care about the many…Just the specific one. In your heart of hearts you'll choose Anna's friend's safety, not because you care for the girl, but because your sister cares for her. If this was a virtual stranger that neither of you know, the end result would be jarringly different. Because at least…Anna could stay blissfully ignorant, and it can be a burden you can shoulder alone.

"Still…it goes without saying that if you so choose Jenna's death, you'll relieve countless people's suffering. The assaults will stop—you won't have to worry about a phantom menace at every street corner vying for your sister's well-being. Yet the sacrifice is still too great—the possible consequences hitting too close to home. Because really, who cares if no one else is suffering? Who cares if a stranger isn't picked off and assaulted to be shown to the world? The only thing that matters to you is Anna…and you know as well as I do, that she can't carry the burden of another life she's lost. Not without her holding on to it for the rest of her life."

The battle in Elsa's mind spoken in easy sentences—like a simple conversation about the weather, not someone's life hanging on a thread.

In the end, she knows she can't have that kind of burden placed on her little sister. That she'd choose anything else, but further suffering on Anna's end, physical or otherwise. And she hates it—hates it that her one weakness is so exploitable, and she and Matthias both know it. Her tongue darts out to coat chapped lips, a tremulous swallow following in tandem. Before she's quite aware, her hand is sneaking her phone out of her jean pocket, her thumb pressing on a specific number and listening to the shrill ringing at the other end.

"Yeah?" a rough grunt greets after a moment.

"Stand down."

"You sure?"

Elsa's jaw clamps in apparent irritation. "Stand down," she repeats steely through gritted teeth.

A heavy silence before, "Got it," and the line cuts off.

She all but throws the phone on the table, her palm sliding roughly against her forehead as she grinds her skull into it. And she's quite aware that she looks weak, and doing this in front of Matthias of all people will not garner her any favors, but defeat is coursing through every cell of her being, and she feels beaten, beaten,beaten to a pulp. She only had to throw away the last remaining vestiges of humanity in herself just for a flicker of hope that she's doing something worthwhile for their cause—to make a resounding dent, and still…she failed to do it.

"Clyde."

She hears Matthias call, but cares little for it. He'll get what he wants…as he's so used to.

The butler appears again, standing at attention.

"Make the call. Get the address. Make the sure the girl is not hurt."

A silent nod and he leaves again.

Elsa looks up, world-weary eyes towards light blues still unabashedly staring at her. Their meal is all, but forgotten—Matthias' barely eaten and hers still untouched.

"Will you be impartial to any advice at this moment?" the old man asks, features morose and lacking the ease that was present at the beginning of their meeting.

The blonde says nothing, merely looks down at the hollandaise blanketing the egg on her plate. She figures the defeat in her eyes are enough to answer for her.

"You may not feel it Elsa, but we're on the same side," Matthias says softly, staring up at her in what she can only garner as sympathy. "We don't have to work together, but it would do well for your sanity to stop fighting me. I don't want this to break you, but if you keep fighting, it'll run you down—wear you out until you become a shell of who you are. You need to be more than a shell to protect your sister. You have to be everything that she's not and become everything she could possibly need. Anything less and all the sacrifices—the tears, the hard work—they become fruitless. Meaningless actions with no end to justify the means.

"Tell me, is there anything in the world more important to you than Anna?"

"Nothing." The answer is swift and easy.

"It goes without saying that you'd sacrifice your own well-being for her unconditional safety."

She merely nods once, jaw still clamped uncomfortably tight and straining her teeth and gums.

"You and I differ the most in this aspect," Matthias states and sits up, serious eyes appraising her not for the first time. "This is where the line is drawn. You stand to lose the one thing you care for. I stand to lose nothing. Your sacrifice will always be felt. Mine is meaningless. I have no ties that bind me anywhere. Yours circles, loops, touches people even when you don't want them to. Your actions will always have consequences, and your heart will feel every single ripple. I press a button for a kill order…and I feel absolutely nothing.

"This is why you will always lose to me. It's not about making the proper moves or making the right decisions. It's about knowing your opponent's weakness and exploiting it. Your greatest strength and weakness sticks out like a sore thumb. Mine…are dead and have no chance of speaking for themselves."

Clyde returns, hands over a small, rectangular paper to t