Chapter Fifteen: A Rock and a Hard Place

"Elsa, answer the door. Kareem, walk back to the model. Ben, seriously, sit the hell back down. Andrew…just stay where you are."

Hayley's words are firm, but the meaning passes over Elsa easily, the blonde still frozen in her original spot as her eyes linger towards a looming, black screen where she can still see Anna staring right back at her.

Diffuse the situation.

Her inner voice is frantic and trembling, so similar to the trepidation thrumming all over her extremities that it makes the same action she wants enabled to become near impossible.

They can't leave here tonight knowing what they know.

But unless some miracle comes upon her, the likeliest being the massive earthquake Californian residents have been promised for decades to strike or, the least likelier: a time machine…

I can't rectify this.

Her fingers claw through her hair, sending blonde strands to sprawl in messy disarray. She's quite aware of everyone's wary eye on her, but her own is stuck on the wooden planks on the floor, teeth gritting, fists balling, head throbbing at how this has spiraled into unfixable proportions.

The knock issues from the door again, this time with more urgency. She turns towards the sound, resolutely ignores her classmates and heeds Hayley's command, taking slow, defeated steps to the front door—a prisoner to the execution block.

She takes the pies from the unassuming deliverer, remembers through her muddled mind to tip, before closing the door and making her way back to the waiting party, half throwing the boxes atop the dining table.

She looks at all of them from her faraway spot, her heart thumping out of her chest and her breaths coming in despairingly short almost gasps.

Hayley's green eyes are locked on hers, hands still clasped on the television's power cord. Kareem can't meet her stare. He looks almost…disappointed (in himself? In her? She's not sure), almond eyes grazing over a model that won't give anyone any answers. Andrew seems the most relaxed, both hands snaked in his jean's pocket and eyeing her, then Ben, then Kareem in an almost patterned manner. And Ben…

The hard smirk gives his youthful face an almost sinister look, and it's a good reminder that none of them—especially the blond, isn't her friend. Maybe Kareem could be something of a close resemblance to that endearment—only time will reveal that course to its inevitable conclusion, but everyone else is at best, a teammate…a rival in a competitive school with a just as competitive job market.

And their team, as of thirty minutes back, no longer needs to be its once cohesive unit. The project is finished. Formality can be thrown into the wind and begrudging respect with it. Elsa has no clout, no advantage, no ground to stand on…and she knows that Ben knows this as well.

Her mind provides her the memory of two weeks back when Kareem had divulged his knowledge of the same subject, the palpitations running through her burnt synapses and the rushing of her heartbeat so similar to that scorching day. The back of her throat feels sticky, the overwhelming urge to vomit making the task of breathing that much harder. She's only glad she hasn't eaten anything, although the bitter bile taste of a sip of beer coming back up would also prove her wrong.

More than anything, she needs to gather her wits and find a viable answer to this. One that won't affect Anna. In the end it still boils down to this, just like two weeks back.

The world can swallow her whole and drag her in the pits of hell for all she cared. She probably deserves no less.

A small smirk climbs upon her face at the dismal thought, her hand pulling a nearby chair before sitting on it, back ramrod straight. When she looks back up, it's to the surprise of her classmates, Ben's most pronounced. He seems confused, possibly mistaking her lack of hope for sheer confidence.

Elsa rides it out as best as she can.

"What do you want?" The question is first directed to her blond classmate before falling on her other peers, Kareem's narrowing, questioning eyes glued to her as her voice travels through the silent room. She grits her teeth for another couple of seconds to ground herself before breathing a shallow, arid inhale. "What do you all want?"

Ben stands just a bit taller, the remote flying from his hand to the sofa where it creates a dull thump that echoes around them. The sound gravitates her attention back to him, and her mind screams at her to not let this entire situation intimidate her—fear feels like her biggest enemy. Fear and herself.

And there's absolutely no use in crying over spilled milk.

She gets up, the hardwood floor cool against the bottom of her feet as she makes the small trek to her blond classmate. She sees surprise in his sapphire eyes, possibly from the tightly reigned control she's gripped upon herself since the lack of hope overcoming her still tightly wounded system, but she dismisses it.

Anna's well-being first, yourself second, her mind reminds albeit futilely.

She walks until she's standing at the back of the sofa, her palm landing at the top of it and feeling the smooth rough combination of the fabric. Her eyes are locked with the blond's, her own searching—questioning. She reads confusion in Ben's expression, latches on it because she'll take any sign of weakness over arrogant confidence especially coming from him.

She's at least learned a few things about her tall classmate from the past couple of weeks while working with him: he's insufferable when he doesn't get what he wants, he'll complain like a petulant child at any misgiving, and he's one to drive straight to the point without tiptoeing the subject.

The sofa bends under her fisted palm.

"What do you want?" she repeats, her inquiry louder, firmer.

Sapphires narrow infinitesimally under her strong glare. She stops paying attention to the others—she'll get to that road when she's reached a dead end on this one. Something tells her everything else will be easy in comparison…

She breathes a calming air, expels her mind of the activity that's flourished and buzzed it since the garbage that could be called newscasting started, and stares at Ben resolutely.

"What can I do to make it so this doesn't leave the room?"

Same questions. Same line of questioning. A different person. Elsa gulps the gnawing anxiety down a roadblock lodged throat, willing her heart to slow, please, so she can concentrate.

The smirk that greets her question doesn't make her feel better about the situation, but she doesn't allow it to show. Stoicism is her only friend right now. Her jaw merely locks in place, the gritting of her teeth echoing in the recess of her eardrums.

"You really feel you're in any position to a terms of agreement?" Ben asks, rather impudently, his smirk turning into a grin that shows even white teeth up to the barring of canines.

Elsa blinks once, brows stitching as she tilts her head a bit to the side, and comes up with a smile of her own. She's instantly relieved at how that wipes the grin off of her classmate's face.

"I feel like I'm giving you the long end of a very short stick," she replies, squaring her shoulders and balling both hands into fists.

His sardonic laughter tumbles around the room, blue eyes narrowing as he steps a foot forward until his knees are touching the sofa seat. The blonde notes how Andrew follows him, wary eyes trained on the space between them: two and a half feet.

It's so close and so silent that she can hear Ben's uneven breaths and she wonders briefly if it's from excitement, dread, or adrenaline. She wills her own to be slower—appearing calmer even though she's anything but.

"I'm the one on a short stick?" comes the rhetoric question, followed by a lavish and sarcastic flourish of hands. "Seriously, Elsa? You literally have no leg to stand on…and I'm the one being given the long end of a short stick?"

"This is what you know Ben. I'll arrange it for you in a neat, single filed line so that there's no confusion between us. Between all of us." The blonde gives a quick sweep around the room, eyeing all of her classmates, Kareem included, before setting a hard gaze back at her tall, male classmate. "You know who Anna is and how she's related to me. You know that we're in an unconventional relationship. You know that this relationship is illegal and in the eyes of the law, is prison bound worthy. In this state, that's a fourteen year sentence. Funny thing about crimes though, you need proof in order for it to be of substantial use."

She looks at Hayley this time, words stringing in her fast paced mind and willing for her stance, but most importantly, fearlessness, to guide her. "You saw me and my sister kiss." She shrugs, as if saying so out loud isn't affecting all of her when the need to crawl into a dark space and waiting for all of this to pass by is exactly what she wants to do right now. "Everyone in this room has. Not a friendly familial one, but one shared by lovers. I won't refute it. That seems rather counterproductive considering where all of us are. What I need for everyone to understand and acknowledge is the fact that kissing…is not illegal. I can literally kiss my sister, tape it, post it on youtube, and even title it 'Me Kissing My Little Sister' and there's still not enough clout to put either one of us in jail. We may have a few million views and a ton of dissent sent our way, but certainly not enough for any kind of sentence to be passed." Her stare lands back to Ben. "You know what constitutes as proof?" She smiles, pursed lips whitening as her eyes narrow into slits. "Sex. Or progeny. One that shows both of us to be its biological parents.

"I can guarantee you that the latter is impossible, as I'm sure you're aware. As for the former…there's no way in hell you'll ever find out. So I'll ask again…what do you want out of this?"

The locked stare from the two of them feels pronounced in the room, invisible electricity jolting and effectively keeping her in place. Elsa's a bit relieved to find the confidence waning from the tall man's demeanor after her monologue. If she can keep this pretense up—that his knowledge is a mere inconvenience and not life altering…if she can convince him to drop it or keep it in a dark corner where it won't see the light of day…she'd have done her job properly. It would keep this tentative shield between her and Anna up for a bit longer, and any day in which they can live peacefully is preferable to ones where they live in constant fear.

A small bandage over a gaping bloody wound.

Ben's tongue darts out, glosses over dry lips. It doesn't stop her from staring into the abyss of dark blue orbs that crinkle and narrow in assumed speculation as his Adam's apple bobs from a rough swallow.

One little sniff later, he puts his chin up, looking down at her with a seemingly pompous air. It seems his mind is made up.

"Drop out."

It takes a long moment to make sense of his words, the deep tenor of his voice clanging in the depths of her mind. She's sure that her expression, once outwardly confident, has torn itself into confusion, the dryness in her mouth seeping into the block in her throat.

"W-what?!"

Her mind has screeched to a dead halt, her vocal chords with it. The outward burst comes from Kareem who not only straightens from his spot next to the model, but takes two long strides towards them, halted only by Andrew's splayed arm.

Ben ignores him. He merely bores his eyes on hers, a small upward smirk atop his lips and a blond brow quirked in challenging question.

She finds that she no longer has the capacity to meet his stare head on so her gaze drops towards the sofa, eyes darting between nuances of the fabric while her mind tries to catch up with the sudden and truly unexpected demand. She tries to piece it together herself, listing the pros and cons, but the usual precision and ability to dissect everything to a tee is impossible with her scattered brain cells and frayed nerves.

Sudden shuffling darts her attention back up, Ben with a pronounced smile upon his face coming around the sofa and walking past her. She doesn't turn to see what he's doing—the noise explains it well enough. The opening of one of the pizza boxes feels so loud in the too quiet room and it's briefly followed by loud munching. The scrape of the chair comes next and soon after, the plopping of a heavy body atop it.

"I want you to drop out of the program, denounce your role as team leader for the project, and convince Professor Clemmens that the four of us carried your weight in the entirety of it. The castle, your part of the project, will be divided evenly between me, Kareem, Andrew, and Hayley, and if anyone questions its legitimacy, your say-so will be used as proof. You'll hand all of your drafts, notes, CADs—anything you used…and it'll be copied and used by anyone of us as we deem fit. Only when you're out of the school, pronounced as a drop out, and out of the state will I conveniently forget you're fucking your sister. If even one of the three aren't met by the middle of next week, I'll announce it to anyone willing to listen. Judging by what we saw on TV…I may get the attention of every major news program in the country…or at least Fox News."

The air feels thin. This is what it must feel like to be sucker punched in the gut…

"Are you insane?"

The bickering starts again, Kareem rounding the sofa and stomping until he's looking down at Ben who's still casually munching on a pizza slice.

"Seriously Ben, this is crazy," Andrew states as well, shaking his head in obvious disagreement.

Hayley keeps her stance directly behind him, her youthful face marred by conflict as she stares at the outside world in silence and seemingly deep concentration.

"No," the blond answers, sighing dramatically, and reaches for another slice. He takes a big bite of it before answering around a mouthful of food, "What's crazy is that we're given a huge opportunity and instead of seizing it, you guys wanna turn a blind eye. Look, I know everyone's under this delusion that Elsa's the most perfect human being in the entire planet, but she's not, alright? What we can all agree on is that she's a damn good student and can become a damn good architect, and her castle is our ticket to our future. That's all that's important to me. Because we all know that come presentation day when the representatives from the major architecture firms looking for an intern show up, no one's gonna care about the tudors, no one's gonna care about the taverns, no one's gonna give a fuck about the battlements. You know what everyone will be looking at? The castle. We may all have worked on some small part of it, but I can be honest and admit that it's damn well made, and she did it. She did the majority of it because she could and we couldn't. We just made the presentation nicer. And I'd be a fool if I was given the opportunity to call it mine and not take it, and I'd call anyone's bullshit in this room if they don't feel the same way."

His explanation is met with silence, everyone's look of disbelief clouding into begrudging understanding. He stands, walks until he's standing next to Elsa, and stares at her until she's able to meet his glare.

Not surprisingly, everything she's giving up flies in her head as she locks with unforgiving blues. More than this project—more than the castle which she's viewed as her pride—the culmination of five years ending this way…

The grief that seizes her heart in a death grip chokes a sardonic laugh from her throat, and it surprises everyone enough for Ben to reflexively step back and for everyone else to come forward in concern. Burning tears threaten to erupt from the back of her lids so she shuts her eyes and concentrates on doing what she does best: dissect the situation, file the pros and cons, and come up with a viable conclusion.

Leaving Ben to his threats seems like the worst decision: judging from the media shit storm that's encapsulated the country, it doesn't matter who he tells any cooked up story to—he'll get his fifteen minutes and her future with Anna becomes even murkier. Accepting his conditions will leave her one quarter behind schedule for graduation. She'll have to apply to another school in New York, preferably one with just as much prestigiousness and credentials, and finish out much later than she'd hoped. Of course this is just scratching the surface as to what this entire decision means. Future schools will question her decision to leave two weeks before the end of term—something that's just unheard of if they consider her grades, standings, and, if they delve even deeper, her portfolio. Cooking up a story shouldn't be too hard though…it's just…her pride.

Anna's more important than your pride.

She swallows the thick block in her throat down and opens her eyes. She sees the unease coating sapphires, locks with them, and inhales a sharp breath.

"I want your word that if I do everything that you ask, I'll never hear from you again."

"Elsa, it doesn't have to be this way!"

She resolutely ignores Kareem and keeps an even stare with her blond classmate. "I don't care what you do with the castle. I'll let you have all of the drafts and sketches I've collected over the course of the last few weeks, and tomorrow I'll speak with Professor Clemmens about dropping out. If I do everything you've asked and you still fuck me over, I'll make sure your future becomes even bleaker than mine. Do we have an understanding?"

Ben's face freezes over at her words, and she has to keep her jaws clamped painfully tight in order to keep control on her thrumming emotions brimming over the edge. She pushes her balled fist in the space between them, fingers cracking as she opens her hand for a firm shake.

"Do we have an understanding?" she repeats through firmly set lips.

A nanosecond later and her classmate gives one stilted nod, encasing a sweaty palm with hers. They share one hard shake before she pulls her hand away and turns to the rest. Her eyes meet with turbulent almonds first.

"I refuse to do this," Kareem says under his breath, shaking his head in tandem. "I'm not going to be a part of it."

"That's not your decision to make," she replies, but only receives even more despondent shakes from the young man. "If the four of you aren't in the same page by Monday, this whole thing falls apart. I'd rather make sure that Anna's well-being is secure through keeping all of your lips shut than waiting for the time the other shoe will drop. I say, seize this opportunity like Ben said, split the castle in fours, because let's be honest, he's not capable of doing all of that by himself, but all four of you could make the argument more valid that you did…if you tried…and let's be on with it."

She still sees the disagreement amongst the three of them, and a small part of her is relieved to see that three out of her four teammates aren't assholes, but actual hard working individuals who only wants what's fair. And they've showed that, in their own little way, within the past few weeks. They've each showed that sense of brilliance, team work, the ability to guide as well as show guidance. All of them would make great lead architects. All they need is the chance and opportunity.

"How important are your futures to you?"

She directs the question to each of them, gathering all confused faces aimed at her at the query. Shrugging her shoulders, she points at Ben and continues, "It's obviously very important for Ben, for example. He's willing to trample over anyone else's future in order to secure his. How important are yours?"

"Not important enough to throw anyone else's under the bus," Andrew mutters, jaw set and eyes narrowed. "Seriously Ben, we can forget about all this and just—

"No." The cutoff is met with a small sarcastic chuckle from the tall blond. "Okay, before we dive into the project, let's just get everything out in the open. Am I the only one in this room utterly disgusted about the fact that Elsa's screwing her sister? I mean that's…that seems like a pretty big deal. Perfect Elsa. If she tries hard enough, she can probably get whoever she wants…yet she's still shacking her sister. There must be something seriously fucked up in her head for even thinking about seeing a sibling in that kind of light, right?

"I feel like I'm being quite generous about all of this. I can either do the right thing and completely annihilate her and her sister's future…or cement mine, and thereby securing your guys' too. You should be kissing my feet. You should be thanking me. I have the balls to say what everyone in this room wants to say and act upon them and you're still against me?"

"No, it's your execution that's flawed," Hayley states, tossing the cord where it makes a loud clatter on the floor. She steps forward, green eyes fixed on Elsa's until only a few feet separate them. She shakes her head first, countenance brimming with apology before putting her hand forward in a shake. "I accept your terms with the condition that you'll let me make it up to you in another way."

Elsa tenses her shoulders, her hand curling at the base of her stomach. "What way?"

Hayley merely gives her a lopsided smile. "In a way that assures I sleep peacefully at night without this whole sordid affair hanging over my head. I promise my lips are sealed regarding you and Anna. As we agreed upon at the start of this project…nothing will leave this room. It's your business, not mine."

The blonde nods once, able to conjure a grateful smile that the brunette can't return, before shaking her hand.

"You sure about this?"

Andrew comes forward next, eyebrows stitched into a deep frown as he glances between Ben and her. "It could be everyone's word against his."

Elsa manages a small smile before shaking her head. "I need a guarantee…but thank you."

He sighs loudly, hand coming up, and as she receives it, he looks up at Ben and mutters, "You're an asshole," before retreating and plopping gracelessly into the couch.

She sees Ben's jaw set from her peripherals, but pays him no mind. Instead she sets her eyes on Kareem whose attention is again on the model, rebelliousness peeking from his set shoulders. The blonde walks up to him, stands so that they're standing relatively close—shoulder to shoulder, yet not quite touching, and joins him in staring at the castle.

He shakes his head, teeth gritting in anger as he swipes off his glasses and rubs his eyes roughly.

"I don't want to be a part of this," he says, voice deep, low, and quiet.

"You have to be," she answers, her finger coming up to graze a castle wall. Why does it feel as if she's a queen about to be usurped? She lets the thought slide as quickly as its appearance. "Other than me, you're the only one who can replicate the notes and make it believable. Andrew and Ben has never shown inclination in this type of architecture, and Hayley is geared more in the details than the general picture. If we're to make Professor Clemmens believe our story, it has to be legitimate. For that to happen…you have to be a part of it."

She turns away from the model and towards the rest of her classmates eyeing her attentively. "The story that I'll tell the professor…just so everyone can corroborate it, is this: I've lost all motivation to keep up with my schoolwork since my return from New York. I've only wanted to go back while doing the bare minimum and it's caused a strain in the group. My project was chosen so all of you had no choice but to get into it. All of you tried to motivate me into working—into being a team player, but I refused. The journals that we've kept to show progression…I want someone to go through it, edit it, make a new notebook, and exclude me from all entries. I want it done before tomorrow night so I can look at it and make any edits necessary to make it look polished. Lastly, I want all of you to divide my notes and the castle cleanly. More than anything, make it believable. If you need to learn terms that I've included that you don't already know, ask me and I'll explain as best as I can. Presenting this on Wednesday without proper preparation will screw everything up…so make sure you do your homework, make sure you plagiarize everything properly, and make sure you know exactly what you need to say to make it sound at least credible. I want a run through presentation on Tuesday night just so I can see what kinks you need to work on before the actual presentation."

She gathers her breath and looks back at Kareem who can only stare at her in a combination of mild fascination and disbelief. The blonde can only plow on resolutely. "You need all the time you can get, so all of you better get started. If…you need to spend the night to get everything taken care of, you can." She looks up to Ben who straightens under her piercing gaze. "But I'd prefer it if you didn't." Striding to the coffee table, she grabs the journal notebook and flips through it casually, seeing her name flash by intermittently at every page turned. "I'll get started on this. I'd recommend going through my folder first and dividing the project from there."

She sighs heavily before sitting down on the couch, pulling the pencil out of the metallic spiral of the notebook and turning it to the first page. It takes a couple of seconds, but her teammates heed her words regardless. She tries to ignore the shuffles they make while they pore over her work and sketches, the mutters of who has the ability to do what and dividing it. It's easier to trudge through than she originally thought. What's harder is erasing her name from a notebook—the only real proof that she had poured her everything into something tangible—that she sacrificed time for this to spend away from the only person who ever mattered, only for it to be wiped out of existence.

Two thoughts battle simultaneously in her head.

This is for Anna.

And…

How am I going to explain this to her?

O—O

"Didn't think the pizza would be finished…"

"You underestimate college students."

Elsa chuckles wryly, biting into the last cold slice. As hungry as she is, it remains unsatisfying and tasteless—dry ash in her mouth. "I underestimate Ben and his lack of manners…or conscience."

Almond eyes narrow at her. "Please tell me you have a master plan to screw him over."

She smiles into another flavorless bite and washes it down with a rough swallow of Coke, her throat tingling painfully as the beverage marches downwards. Her eyes trail over a nearly empty living room, the model that had been taking a large portion of it gone—dismantled and taken away to where she assumes is one of her peers' dorms. Ben had, not so quietly, accused her of possible sabotage were it to remain in her home, so without the help of the others, he loaded the parts in his truck. This took the better part of an hour considering how large the pieces were; Andrew only watched over him just to make sure he wouldn't accidentally destroy anything. Once that was done, everyone had taken their leave.

Kareem was the only one to stay, wordlessly cleaning up strewn pieces of paper and random trash littering the living-room floor, and afterwards sitting down with her across the dining table, each of them bending over the last couple slices of cheese pizza.

If she had any reservations about his loyalties prior to the last few hours, they've flown quietly into the wind. Surprisingly enough, her opinion of Hayley and Andrew has reached an all time high as well. She's not sure what she was expecting from either of them, but sympathy and silent near-acceptance certainly wasn't it. Then again, Ben's ultimatum may have triggered their pity…Regardless of the matter, a large part of her is almost glad that she can rely on them to keep their silence on the matter. As far as her blond classmate goes, there's no reason why he wouldn't keep his end of the bargain so long as she maintains her own.

She stares at the oil spot on the paper plate before her, picking at the cheese before placing it gracelessly in her mouth. Shrugging, she looks back up to her gauging classmate and gives a resigned sigh.

"The master plan is hoping this is enough to sway Ben's silence," she finally answers, reaching for a napkin and studiously wiping the oil slick from her fingers and the corners of her mouth.

"If it doesn't, Andrew, Hayley, and I have come to an agreement to deny anything he says," Kareem offers silently, pushing his half eaten plate away. "That option's still in the table, just so you know. Three people denying anything ever took place is much more believable than one envious, egoistical douche."

She smirks at the on-point description of their classmate, but shakes her head. Again, she's a bit amazed at how far all of them are willing to go…for her of all people.

Before she's quite aware of it, the question flies from her mouth, her expression torn between wonder and query. "Why?"

Kareem shrugs in the midst of chugging a glass of water. "Ben's always been an asshole. Never thought he could be a major asshole—

"No," she cuts off, and chuckles deprecatingly. "Why…why are you guys sticking your neck out for me? You, especially. Why?"

"I don't know about either of them," the young man answers, leaning against the back of his chair and looking at her with morose eyes. "I'm thinking all of us are along the same lines, but as for me…respect." He shrugs again as if what he says isn't really that big of a deal. Maybe to him it isn't. "I don't think you're quite aware of it, but being on top of a really good school puts a target on your back."

"No, I'm…quite aware of that…"

"Then you should also know that because there's that constant target there that people will see everything that you do. For some, this is merely to see when you'll fall. I'll admit it, that's what I was hoping for in the first year. Then…you didn't. Even more than that, you…kinda told everyone to shut the hell up and did even better. Year after year…It's a bit hard not to respect that. It was begrudging respect at first, but after…

"Have you ever seen one of those articles? Where…like a high school basketball team—number one in the country with all their guys over six foot seven, going up against a regular high school team? The disparity…is so unreal. You see pictures of these guys next to each other and the mediocre high school guy looks tiny in comparison. And you know what these articles say? They don't sugarcoat it or anything. There are just some people who are born better. Some people are able to get everything right the first time. Some people don't need to sit down for hours to digest information—it simply comes to them. Some people are brilliant while others trying to vie for some attention in the same spotlight just…can't.

"The difference between me and Ben is that I've come to accept these terms and move on. Hayley and Andrew, they needed an up close and personal look at what I've been seeing. Without really knowing it, you showed them what they needed to see within the last few weeks. And I'm sure Ben respects you in one form or another—fears you even. Everyone's aware of the gaping difference between your ability and ours. If…if today had happened the way it did minus Ben, I can assure you, Andrew and Hayley, after a bit of questioning, would've turned a blind eye out of sheer respect. Just like I have."

He gathers a deep breath and shrugs again. "But the what ifs don't really solve anything…which gets me to the next thing…"

The buzzing of her phone resounds loudly against the table, her eyes flittering to it uneasily before lifting her hand and pressing the side buttons to stop the vibrations. Anna's bright, happy face stares up at her with the most freeing of smiles, and her gut clenches painfully as the guilt stills her into silence.

Fifth missed call…within the last thirty minutes.

A groan escapes from her before she can stop it, her body crumpling into the wooden chair as her fingers grasp the pulse points at her temples.

"What're you gonna tell her?"

"I have no idea," she groans, gathering her legs up to the chair, securing them in place with locked arms, and resting her chin in between her kneecaps. "Is omitting the truth lying?"

"There are some white lies that need to be told."

She bites the corner of her bottom lip uneasily, not liking what already sounds like the perfect response. The escalation of a bad decision—the last five years—creep up on the blonde and the powerful guilt that's been its constant and reliable partner. She wonders briefly if it'll ever go away.

"I told myself I wouldn't lie to her again. That I wouldn't make life altering decisions without seeking her first." The words come out in a near-whisper, spoken to herself more than her company. "I've already kept her in the dark about so many things. This is just another one to add to it."

"Elsa…"

The quiet call prompts her attention up, Kareem's expression one of concern first, then changing into resigned understanding.

"This is going to be kind of personal, and to be honest I don't want to really ask it, but it feels like I should so I can get my point across. You and Anna…i-it's not…is it…permanent?"

If she wasn't already in such a crazy emotional state of turmoil, how he's stumbling over his words would make her laugh out loud. Tonight, the late hour and the goings on of the past couple hours only releases a small chuckle from her weighted chest.

Kareem's face scrunches in apology, a hand coming up behind his head to scratch at his short hair sheepishly. "Sorry…"

Elsa shakes her head to dispel anymore awkwardness. She knows she owes him at least more than this stilted conversation so, after taking a deep breath, she nods, and replies easily, "Yes. It's not a passing fancy, if that's your question."

He nods slowly, as if trying to digest and understand the situation. "So it's pretty serious?"

"I plan to spend my entire life with her if she'll have me."

His sharp whistle lances through the air between them. "And she feels the same way."

"Hopefully."

"No, Elsa, that…wasn't a question."

Her eyes widen at his forward statement causing a chuckle to emit at his end.

"I'm not gonna go into the details of how she looks at you. If you can't see it, I guess you're not as good an architect as I thought you were—attention to detail and the bigger picture and all that. Anyway…" He waves her questioning look dismissively before pushing his frames towards his eyes and sits up just a bit straighter, garnering her full attention. "Here are my two cents, if you'll have it. Don't tell her anything just yet and wait 'til you get home. After you talk with Professor Clemmens tomorrow, I say…just leave. Go back to New York. You don't have to wait to make sure we'll have the presentation set up or everything copied. I would…prefer it…if you weren't here to see it.

"This goes back to what I was saying earlier. Respect. I know how much you care about this project. I know it feels as if a portion of your life and who you are is being stripped because of this circumstance being thrown to you. Staying to see its completion without you is like hammering the last nail in the coffin. I don't want anymore of this hanging on my conscience than it already has. Neither do Hayley and Andrew. I'll shake your hand and do everything you've said if you agree with this one term: go home, go to Anna, explain it to her in person, and pray that we bomb the presentation, because, honestly, I don't want to pass it without you as our lead architect…but because it's your wish that we succeed with flying colors, that's the only option available, so it has to be done."

He stands up and puts his hand in front of him for a shake, his lips up in a congenial, still slightly apologetic smile. Even though none of this is his fault. Even though they both know, if it was up to him, they wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.

"I'm sorry." The apology comes out of her mouth unbidden as she looks up at her classmate, eyebrows stitched in a deep frown, and her countenance etched in conflict. She wants to apologize for the past couple of weeks: the accusations, the distrust, the suspicious looks all thrown his way regardless of his reticence or, from the get-go, his vow of silence.

"Not everyone wants to see the world burn."

Why does it always feel as if she's learning life's lessons too late? Assimilating them only when the storm has passed and all she can do is laugh in irony while in retrospect?

The thought weighs heavily in her heart.

"Don't worry about it."

Almond eyes look down at her softly, a steady hand still hanging between them. He grins, and it's boyish and free—uncaring. "I understand," he says in his deep, smooth voice. "I know why you were so wary. I would be too…if I were in your shoes. What happened today only cements that concern. So…I understand. Don't apologize."

She sighs softly, uncurling from her position and hearing the small pops her coiled body makes as she stands up. Her hand meets his for a firm, friendly shake, a carefree smile atop both of their visages springing up simultaneously.

"When you get settled in your firm, let me know. I'd…like to see if that position for the internship is still open after next quarter."

Kareem's eyes widen at her words, and she wonders briefly why he looks so surprised.

She decides to backtrack, considering the circumstances have certainly changed since the extension of the olive branch. "Unless of course it's been revoked. Then, I'm thankful for the chance regardless—

"No, no! It's…it's definitely still there! Sorry, I just…You…really? You want to work for my mom's company?"

Elsa suppresses the mirth fighting to form a grin in her lips and merely nods. "Is it that surprising?"

"Yes!" he exclaims, as if it's the obvious answer. "There's—New York is no joke. There's a boatload of opportunities there. If anyone were to see your portfolio—if Professor Clemmens still makes any sort of recommendation in your behalf…" He stops momentarily, possibly to breathe and let the excitement wash out. "Elsa, I…I believe you can get any spot in New York you want. I say, get your transfers in and while you're retaking the quarter to finish up your academia, think it over. You haven't really seen any of what New York has to offer yet."

The blonde shakes her head easily, the decision already set in her mind. How he's responding only puts it in stone. "I've made up my mind," she says easily, giving him a true and genuine smile. "But I will contact you at the end of next quarter. And as I said, if you and your mom and her partner at the firm will still have me, I'd be more than happy to take my internship at Bartam and Singh. Working with someone I trust wholeheartedly beats working for the top firm in New York…hands down."

His disbelieving bark of laughter tinged with relief resounds through the quiet room, infectious enough to merit a chuckle at her end. He nods understandingly, putting his hands in his jeans' pockets before giving her a youthful grin. "Alright. I'll hold you to that."

"Count on it."

The buzzing of her phone cuts through the congeniality between them, both of their eyes traveling to Anna's familiar picture.

"I'm gonna get this," Elsa says, picking the phone up so it stops clattering against the dining table and buzzing instead on the surface of her palm.

He nods. "I'll take your drafts and the journal and see myself out."

"Thank you, again. Really."

Kareem can only smile widely. "Tell Anna I said hi…and I'll probably see you in New York."

She nods once. "Yes, definitely. Knock 'em dead at the presentation."

"We'll make it as believable as we can," he says with a sigh, earning her dry chuckle. His long strides carry him across the living room easily, his hands gathering all of the papers he needs, and throwing them in one folder before picking up the journal as well. "I'll let Andrew and Hayley know…and the douche canoe too…of course. And if he has any problems with it, Andrew can hold him down while I uppercut him in the jaw…"

The mental picture strikes an easy laugh from her end. "Videotape it so we can save it for a rainy day."

"I'll make a gif of it so it can loop." He stands before her, mirth still clearly in his eyes, but his lips pressed seriously. "See you in New York," he says before putting his hand forward again.

She transfers the still buzzing phone to her left hand and accepts the second shake without a second thought, locking with his almond eyes and smiling up at him gratefully. "See you in New York," she mimics.

She watches him go just as she presses the answer button, her heart beating in quiet anticipation as Anna's breathy, "Elsa!" resounds through her ears as well as the closing of her front door. She'll get to see her sister tomorrow if fate will allow it, and for her, this merits at least one night in which she can act happily—as if her world hasn't just been turned upside down, and the past month hasn't been a useless endeavor that would've been so much better spent at Anna's side instead of being apart from her.

O—O

A trickle of students pour out of the lab room, each one giving her a look of surprise as she merely looks on. The cement wall behind her, once cool, is now unbearably warm. Makes sense considering she's been standing in the same spot for roughly a half an hour, her brimming mind filling itself with conversations yet to be spoken while waiting for the class to be adjourned.

She knows she has to thread carefully. Her professor and current program coordinator isn't one to be fooled easily. Lying's the only option available, but a major part of her knows none of what she's rehearsed the previous night will sound plausible especially to him. He knows what kind of student she is—knows that there are only one or two reasons she'd leave a program she's invested five years and her whole future into…and whatever she'll say within the next ten minutes isn't a viable enough excuse for anyone, least of all her.

The last student rounds the corner and gives her a curious eye before going on his merry way. She waits, her fingers grazing the rough surface of the wall behind her thoughtlessly. Her mind, which has been on overdrive since she woke up, jumps from one thought to the next, none assimilating until a steady thud of a pulsing headache is throbbing dully in her right temple, marching slowly and with purpose to the other side. She stalls for another couple of moments, palpitating heartbeats rushing nervously in her ears before gathering one last faint breath and pushing herself off the wall.

Professor Clemmens, at the hilarity of the majority of his students, has been compared to quite often with the KFC Colonel. Wisps of white hair, combed meticulously to one side, frames a usually serious face, a white mustache and beard combination trimmed and styled with just as much precision. Circular frames hang over a crooked nose (some students speculate he had gotten into a brawl in his younger days and it had never settled properly), and his green eyes are bright and seemingly all seeing.

Tenure has not given him a jaded outlook in his teaching career. In contrast, he's embraced the program fully and has been its coordinator for over a decade. It's said under hushed revered tones around the school that he's responsible for more than ten thousand successful careers since he began overseeing the program singlehandedly, and borne under his tutelage are the architects that make up what would be this generation.

Elsa can only hope that she can be one of the few people to get something past him and not be in the wrong end of his favor—she quite likes him as a person and professor.

He looks up from his desk as she shuffles in, hands busy rearranging a stack of paper left behind by his last class and eyes her steadily as she draws closer.

"Ms. Andersen," he half-calls, half-questions.

"Good afternoon professor," she greets with a stoic nod, stopping at the side of his generic desk and sweeping the classroom with one look to ensure their privacy. "Sorry for scheduling a meeting without much notice."

He shrugs rather casually, keeping the papers tucked in his hands together with a fairly large paper clip. "You're in luck!" he says loudly and with a strong smile. "I always make time for the number one student of my soon-to-be graduating class without question."

Elsa winces outwardly at the praise, her index finger and thumb pinching and scratching the side of her jean fabric thoughtlessly. She's always hated this habit, one she's never outgrown much to her chagrin. At the first sign of nervousness her fingers would itch at something to hold, grip, or scratch. It never showed itself during presentations or when speaking in front of a large group of people; it's more centralized—triggered by situations she knows are beyond her control.

Her professor eyes her in scrutiny, one white brow coming up in speculation, before he points to a bundle of rolled up blueprints sitting in the corner of the room. "Mind helping me take those to the office? We can talk after."

The blonde nods automatically, glad of some kind of reprieve from her task regardless of how short or menial. At the very least it'll give her just a little bit more time. To do what, she's not quite sure, but just like all previous scenarios in which a confrontation is to be had and she knows she's in the wrong or losing side, prolonging the inevitable just seems to make the situation just a tad more tolerable.

Gathering the rolled up papers and shoving a few per arm, she follows the olden man towards the backside of the room where the storage room turned office is located. It takes the two of them a few minutes to walk back and forth from one room to the other, bundles of blueprints in each of their underarms and the only noise between them the random shuffles of movement.

It's to Elsa's surprise that when they're finished with the small task, the old man closes the door to the office and motions for her to follow him out of the classroom, locking the doors on their way out. She looks at him questioningly, one that he pointedly ignores.

Her first meeting with Sci-Arc's program coordinator four years back had been in a classroom, and the subsequent ones in the office/storage room. She thought it unusual the first couple of times, but found out later by other classmates that it had been a rule he'd set beginning the year before her transfer: all private meetings were to be held in the storage room turned office. She hadn't really questioned it since knowing this small tidbit regardless of the fact that everyone knows he has an office in the administrative portion of the campus. Upon retrospect the blonde realizes she's never actually seen the inside of his office…

She wonders if anyone in her graduating class ever has.

The professor is unusually quiet as she follows a half a step behind him. In the past he'd at least attempt socialization even though he knows she's not one for small talk. She'd humor him and respond to his queries, but silence and all its perceived goldenness is something she appreciates, and everyone in her class seems to know this small tidbit of her, teachers included.

For the past month, the weather has been three levels of hot: unbearable, excruciating, or stay indoors. Today is leading up to be somewhere in the middle and the walk across the campus to the administrative building isn't a very long one, but still not pleasant. They trudge through regardless, as quiet as they've been from the start, and after a couple flights of stairs and a push through a set of metallic double doors, the cool reprieve of the AC is apparent in both of their countenance.

She follows him through cluttered desks, a phone ringing somewhere in the distance. The majority of the offices have their doors closed and lights turned off—only a select few of the faculty actually come in on Sundays, Professor Clemmens being one of them. She's only glad his early class provides an early dismissal and therefore an early meeting with her. If it all goes according to plan, she can leave within the next half hour with all of the paperworks complete. Add an extra eight hours of travel time to New York and she'll see her sister in time for dinner…and she'll have all those eight hours to decide on what to tell her—how to explain all of this without it sounding as if it's the redhead's fault, because knowing her sister…knowing Anna and how she's tunnel visioned on problems' cause and effect, she'll blame herself for everything regardless of how much the blonde will refute it.

Her entire day is looking up to be quite unpleasant.

One last door opens, the room flickering as unused fluorescent bulbs flicker to life and Elsa's surprised at the amount of…pictures crowding the entire office. There are no diplomas, no certifications, no awards showing the significance of the man before her in terms of the architectural world even though he's a mold breaker of his generation. Just pictures of his family, friends, and colleagues; none of the professional kind, but homemade and candid. It shows such a warm part of her teacher she's seen in his passion for teaching and she wonders why he would want to keep this view away from his students fully knowing it isn't a sign of weakness or anything of the sort, but something completely at the opposite end of the spectrum.

"Take a seat Elsa."

His sudden words jump start her heart into thudding noisily in her eardrums, the trepidation that she's somewhat pushed down since waking up flaring into uncontrollable proportion. She looks up towards crinkly warm eyes, one hand splayed towards the only other seat in the room facing the generic desk he looms over. Clearing her throat of the sudden rough patch unsuccessfully, the blonde pulls the chair minimally before sitting down, her teacher following her momentarily as he brings out two folders from inside his desk drawer: one red, one yellow respectively. He places them meticulously beside the other, perpendicular and straightened before looking back up at her and smiling cordially.

"You probably noticed the pictures."

And what a weird way to start a meeting…

Last night, she had called him during a five minute Skype break from her sister, citing the importance of meeting him the next day and no later. He had been surprised then, and from his voice, majorly curious, so to tiptoe the subject instead of getting right into it is confusing the blonde enough to push her anxiety back and question his sudden mood.

She answers nonetheless, as soon as she gets her bearing. "Yes," is the short answer, as she pointedly looks at the pictures, seeing all and none at the same time. "You have a beautiful family."

At this, he gives her an open and easy smile, reaching across the desk towards a picture frame she can only see the back of and turning it for the blonde to see.

"My first granddaughter," he says, pride and affection coating his voice, to which she can just nod and smile uneasily to, not knowing where this is going, if any of it is important, or if she was wrong and the teachers aren't very knowledgeable of her disliking small talk.

She gives the picture a once over, a much younger professor grinning up at her, dirty blond hair combed meticulously back, his signature goatee and mustache combo upon a youthful face, and in his lap a brunette girl, possibly two or just a bit older with twin pig tails and a wide grin upon a baby face, playing with building blocks.

And this is why she hates small talk. What's she supposed to say? That's nice? She knows he knows she doesn't care, but social manners dictate a compliment or at least a noncommittal comment to alleviate unwanted tension.

"Cute," is what ends up coming out of her mouth, a one word comment he laughs at jovially.

He reaches for another frame, this one to the left, and turns it over, smirking as he replies, "I'm sure she'll take that as a compliment."

The words die in her throat as a younger Hayley looks up at her from the new frame, Professor Clemmens' arm around her shoulders and part of the Getty Museum discernible in the background.

Anxiety rockets into her already nervous body like a pile of bricks, her mind urging words to form into coherent sentences, but all she can do is leave her mouth hanging from the unexpected blindside.

"All of my meetings have been done in this room prior to your graduation class. When Hayley graduates, I'll likely have meetings here again. Until then, just to make sure no student sees an untoward bias, the school and I have deemed it prudent that no one knows she's my granddaughter until further notice."

He shrugs, places both frames back in their original position and sits back into his swivel chair, eyeing her carefully through his circular specs. "With that said, I can honestly say that all the teams were chosen at random except yours," he continues, heightening the dread pooling in the pit of her stomach. "I figured everyone else will do safe projects and you'll go outside of convention as you've done the past four years, and I wanted Hayley to see it for herself—a different kind of architect. She's not very good at seeing the entire picture. You probably noticed that with details she's…she's phenomenal, but the larger projects has been her Achilles heel since the start. I wanted her to see first hand how to put everything together, the mental fortitude and what it takes to be a lead architect and own it. I knew she'd see it in you better than she'd see it in…Janice or Haneul—they're brilliant but quite shortsighted visually.

"As the lead architect, I also wanted her to see how you would overcome adversity. Your group is one of the more underrated teams. Andrew and Hayley are your neutral players, neither excelling at the class nor performing horribly. Kareem, I had no doubt, would have your back regardless of your decisions, but that inability to question your decisions could also be a negative. And then…there's Ben…"

He trails off, green eyes boring through hers as her fingers claw at her thighs restlessly. Everything that could've gone wrong in the past twenty-four hours did…this is just the topping of the cake, and a small, but palpable part of her is bitter that life just can't give her a small break.

Professor Clemmens steeples his fingers before him, elbows planted on the desk as he eyes her in unabashed scrutiny. "I know what you came here to say," he says simply, and Elsa feels her lungs deflate just from the surety of the words, teeth gnawing at the insides of her mouth to resist the temptation of yelling in anger at how unfair everything is. "Every Sunday, Hayley and I go over your team's progress. She tells me the group breakdown, what everyone's doing, how the project is divided, the responsibilities of each person, and then grades you specifically as a lead architect. The first couple of days, she was dubious of your abilities. After the first week, she understood. Thereafter, it's been like watching a pair of siblings with one openly admiring the other without the other knowing." He smiles, one the blonde can't return which doesn't really matter—it falls momentarily, lips pursing in obvious distaste and disappointment. "You've shown her everything I've wanted her to see without dictation. You have all the qualities to be a great architect. Ask me, and I will give you the best recommendation I have ever given a student. Anything less would be depriving the world of what could be a great architect.

"Under no circumstance will I allow you to drop out."

What little air left is stolen from her lungs, exhaled roughly as if she's just been kicked in the gut. She's not aware of her eyes shutting close until all she sees is darkness and spots of light from how tightly her lids are pressing against her eyeballs. What she is aware of is the anger superseding every other emotion in her body, clouding over desperation, sadness, and confusion. Anger at her inability to control these situations; anger at having zero options and only being able to blame herself, but most importantly, anger that regardless of the planning and deals with devils she has to make, none of it is a surefire way of keeping Anna's well-being and happiness intact.

The only way for that to happen is if I kill myself…and still I'll only be halfway successful…

She opens her eyes, balled hands leaving crescent moon indents from her nails on the surface of her palms, and a small part of her is satisfied at seeing her professor taken aback by what must look like such hostility from her usually placid face. The plastic chair feels hard against the ramrod straightness of her back, but that and how she's holding the handles of said chair tightly is the last thing in her mind.

"With all due respect professor," she nearly spits out, voice thin and even. "You can't stop me from dropping out if I wish to do so."

She wishes that her words are enough to strike a chord—fear, understanding—something to push all of this in her favor. Instead she sees dismal agreement painted on an olden face, disappointment and just a smidgen of displeasure amidst bright greens.

"No," he agrees, white brows drawn in a tight frown. "But it also doesn't stop me from refusing the project fully knowing that people are owning up to work that's not their own. I don't have any qualms failing your team Ms. Andersen, my granddaughter included. My stipulation, as of this very moment, is as follows: if you drop out, I will not accept that project and every one of your team members will drop thirty percent of their grade. That is what's fair from my perspective, therefore that's what everyone's going to get. Anything more and it's favoring plagiarism…and I do not take that lightly in any situation."

Everything's turning to shit…just like how she envisioned it. Knowing something will happen doesn't help either—a lesson she's learned numerous times before, but today it just feels like the driving point to the failure that is the hallmark of her life.

She's left with zero options; a rock and a hard place. Should she choose to stay, they all receive a fair grade and Ben has his fifteen minutes. Should she choose to leave, everyone fails…and Ben has his fifteen minutes.

And Anna? Anna will be disappointed, and angry, and spiteful, and she'll blame herself for all of this…

You're useless…her inner voice chides, begrudging agreement filling every bone in her body as the prickles in the corners of her eyes burn in tandem. And still she wants to fight all of the forces of nature against her and risk her well-being rather than to see her sister hurt in any way shape or form. Everything that has happened or is currently happening in New York can't have anymore additions.

Icing on the cake. A flimsy bandage over a gushing wound.

Neither of them would be able to control it.

Two tears drop like bullets across her cheeks, and her mind warns her momentarily to not show such weakness in front of her professor, but she can't stop the overwhelming flood of emotions seeking a viable outlet.

"Elsa?"

She registers Professor Clemmens calling her, but doesn't assimilate it, her inner voice angry and uncontrollable and yelling at the top of its figurative voice of her utter uselessness.

She has a running tally of all the things she's done wrong—all of the snubs in which her sister is concerned and the number is so overwhelmingly high that it's not the first time she wonders if getting her sister to hate her and forget about her isn't the best option for everyone…then she remembers that she's tried that already…and failed then too.

The laugh that resounds from her chest is pitiful, watery, and painful, and through blurry eyes she sees unfathomable concern aimed at her direction.

Utter failure.

Why is it that she's so good with everything else, except being what's best for Anna?

"Do what you want to do," she whispers, shaking her head and breathing around the lump in her throat and the heaviness of her lungs. The fight, whatever's left of it, is gone. All she wants to do is go home, receive a warm hug from the person that matters the most, and sleep this entire affair away. "There's no winning, so I might as well lose with grace."

Professor Clemmens sighs loudly, stands up, and looms over her from the other side of the table, brows notched, lips pursed, and visage absolutely stricken. "Elsa…can you please explain why we have to do this in the first place? This is…this is crazy. Giving Ben complete control of a project that is like your first born…I don't…" He pauses, shakes his head, and gives her an imploring look. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

She has half a mind to swipe the back of her hand across her eyes to see better, the other hand curling into her hair in utter frustration before she slumps fully into her hard seat. She's unable to look at her teacher, uncaring as to what she'll see there, so she directs her gaze unflinchingly at the desk.

It seems a lot of her milestone life changing events happen between desks…and the irony isn't lost on her that she'd rather speak with her father a thousand times over about her growing feelings for her sister than be here, stuck between two options which aren't really options at all.

"What do you mean why am I doing this?" she asks mid sniffle, confused at the line of questioning. It should be quite obvious that she doesn't want to ruin her sister's life and that's the only real incentive she has of doing or not doing anything.

"I don't know what it is you think I know…but I don't know it…whatever it is that you think I know."

She can't help, but look at him after that, her brows stitched into a confused frown. "Hayley didn't tell you?"

"She told me it wasn't her place to do so," her teacher says with a deep sigh, sitting back down and looking at her concernedly. "Just that the group imploded, Ben had somehow managed to sneak his way into getting you to drop out of the project, abstain all responsibility, and that I can't let you drop out of the entire program without doing something. That's all I know. Can you please let me in on the rest?"

Elsa's a bit surprised that her female teammate hadn't divulged everything, but then the brunette had promised she wouldn't. It matters little. At this rate…what was the point in keeping it a secret? So she tells him, in the most monotonous voice and scientifically precise way she can without giving a bit of emotion away: about the interview, the goings on in New York, the repeal, and of course what happened in her apartment that fateful day in which all of her classmates had been privy of seeing.

"She's my sister and it doesn't matter what Ben has or hasn't seen. He'll twist it to whatever favors his way unless I drop out." She finishes and shrugs as if noncommittal, the events of the night prior at the forefront of her mind as she stares at a random picture frame against the wall. "I would sooner do that than have Anna suffer collateral damage based on my carelessness."

It's deathly quiet in the stifling room after her explanation, the whirring of the AC the only sound between them. But it's not too long before her professor sighs again, gathering her attention that's flitted to the corner of the room mid-confession. She half expects to see disgust riddled with confusion upon his aging visage, but only sees anger and bitter disappointment.

He gives her a pointed look as he takes off his glasses, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. "And you think this'll be enough to shut him up?"

"One can only hope."

"Elsa—

"It's fine," she cuts off roughly, gathering the remaining pieces of what can be construed as control left in her system. "As I said before, do what you have to do. It won't matter. Anna'll still get hurt and the media'll have their story. Fail me. Pass me. It doesn't matter."

"It does matter! Your future—

"My future's with Anna," she lashes, and a small part of her blares out a warning that this is her professor and that they shouldn't be having a conversation like this, but caution's been thrown in the wind, and it's gone just as much as her patience with this entire failure of an ordeal. "I don't know if at the end of this media circus that I can be anything, but be whoever Anna needs, so therefore that's my future. I don't think anyone understands that, least of all my groupmates. I can live knowing I've thrown a whole quarter away; there are other schools to transfer into. I can live knowing I've given someone as malicious as Ben a future set in stone, just so long as he doesn't mess with mine. I can live…throwing the last five years away and not be an architect…so long as Anna's by my side. So no…it doesn't matter.

"I…I have a plane to catch. I want to go home. If we're done here, I'll take my leave."

She starts to get up, but stops abruptly at the vigorous shake of the old man's head, his hands opening up the folders in front of him at the same time. "If you're so dead set on giving up at least give me the time to give you your third option," he says rather hastily and with a touch of scolding that still leaves the blonde somewhat sheepish.

She sits back down on the uncomfortably warm chair and looks at the red folder just as her teacher puts it before her.

"A withdrawal form," he starts with pursed lips, and she meets his scrutinizing greens with unhidden surprise splashed across her visage."This is your first option. It's your worst option honestly. It makes you look like an incompetent student and me and incompetent teacher and program coordinator. What does it say if I can't keep my best student in a program she's excelling in? Your second option," he continues, not giving her time to refute or add in to what he's saying, "is this…and in my opinion, it's the better…" He shakes his head as he trails off, correcting himself momentarily, "Only option."

Four packets are placed before her, each header starting with her current class and the words Final Test as succeeding words. She looks up towards sparkling green orbs, her jaw slacked as her brain fires the correct synapses to understand what's really happening.

"After speaking with Hayley last night I contacted all of the other professors and told them that you might be leaving the term early to go home. They all understand considering we're all pretty knowledgeable of current events. All of them told me about the interview as well…something I missed since I was here late last night grading. Bottom line is all of us understand…and if you're willing to leave this very moment and give up now, I'm not going to stop you and I'm going to respect your decision in…donating…your efforts to the project to your remaining teammates. But…should you choose the second option, we can sit here, I'll give you the allotted time needed to finish all of your finals right here, right now, in one sitting, proctor you, and right after you can go straight to the airport if that's what you wish. Missing the presentation will dock you points of course. You'll probably rank closer to six or seven overall in the class just from missing it, but again…I guess you were more than willing to give up more than that. In the end I'm impartial to either option so long as you make the decision that's best for you and your situation."

He gives her a long look, seconds that she buys by trying not to imitate a flopping fish, but that's what she feels like and that's probably what it comes across as. Hope surges in her chest, and she wants to stamp it because it's foreign and something she's certainly not used to. She's still semi-waiting for her teacher to say it's all a classless joke…

"What about Ben?" she asks through a muddled mind and tightened throat after a too long pause. She merely receives a dark look from the professor before a too casual shrug.

"He won't know," he says easily, jaw flexing in displeasure, and he gives her such an uncharacteristically dark smirk that she's not sure if she even saw it properly because it quickly leaves his countenance. "As far as your classmates go, we won't disclose your reason of leaving, but I'm sure the majority of them will assume the real reason and believe that. As for your group, I'll make some offhanded comment that ensures them you've dropped out so Ben won't question its legitimacy. Since he likes to play deception so much, I'll play it—I'm not too old for a long con."

And now she's thoroughly confused, but she decides that it really doesn't matter—none of it, because this option…this very last one…

"Do you need a minute to let it sink in?"

She kind of does, but what comes out of her gibbering mouth instead is a stuttering, "W-why?"

It feels like she's asking this a lot—first to Kareem and now to her professor, but it's not as if they owe her anything. She's always had a give and take relationship with the world, and getting a lot of takes while not giving simultaneously isn't a relationship she's very familiar with. But he answers her with the same expression Kareem had given her just a night back: with unconditional understanding and slight apology.

"I may not seem biased most of the time, but I do have my favorites Elsa…" he says lowly and with an accompanied grin. "And I'd be damned if I let you go without giving you at least this…and even more-so if I let Ben think he can get away with it without at least a crash course in how small the architecture world is…but enough of that." He reaches into his drawer and extends a number two pencil at her direction. "You have four hours…and a plane to catch."

His final words pushes all of the goings on of the past half hour out of her mind as reflex from years of schooling takes over. She hasn't studied much…and her brain's a bit fried from the roller coaster of emotions that's plagued her since yesterday…but this was so much more than she was expecting of even getting…and that's definitely nothing to complain about.

Taking a deep breath, she gathers one of the packets, takes the proffered pencil, and turns the page, set on drawing and explaining the difference between a regular buttress and a flying one.

O—O

Freedom is a funny thing. Elsa had been preparing her whole life for the next. Ever since she learned the importance of schooling and academics, it's really shaped her decisions and future outlook—each avenue turned in her head, each quarter mapped, each syllabus pored over to the extreme, and every due date circled in a usually figurative calendar in her mind. As she steps out of the wonderfully cool building and back into the hellish conditions outside, she feels her brain emptied of responsibility. There's no presentation on Wednesday, there are no finals to study for in the next couple of weeks…no grades to maintain. There's only Anna and New York, and the next portion of her life.

"Have you booked your flight?"

She looks behind her and eyes her professor locking the double doors. It feels as if they're the last people in campus minus security, and she susses that she's probably not wrong. As he turns to look back at her with bright green eyes, she shakes her head in automatic response.

"I'm heading home first," she states, walking with him to the direction of the parking lot, her mind robotically filing her to-do list as she says them out loud. "I have to make sure everything's turned off, get my luggage, secure the car, and then probably call a taxi to take me to the airport."

"A bit expensive," he murmurs, to which she can only garner a shrug to. "I can take you if you'd like."

Her eyes widen automatically at the gesture, Professor Clemmens giving her a small smile from her peripherals, and she wonders fully if there's anything else the old man can do today that won't leave her absolutely gobsmacked.

It takes her a moment to respond, but she does regardless with vigorous shakes of her head. "I-It's okay. It'll probably take a while and I've already taken so much of your day."

He sighs deeply, and it feels like the first time she can see his actual age showing from the deep recess of notches in his forehead and the wrinkles across his frown lines. "It honestly feels like I haven't done enough."

Disagreement bubbles in her throat, the past three and a half hours running through her head and her mind's eye showing her the old man's deep scrutinizing gaze aimed towards her throughout its duration—as if the old man's trying to solve a puzzle that he's missing so many pieces for that he can't even see the image being portrayed.

"You've done enough professor," she says evenly, stopping and grabbing his undivided attention as she turns fully towards him. "You've done more than I thought was possible. I…I came here today to drop out. The fact that I haven't should be a testament to that."

"It's just disappointing that it has to be this way," he replies lowly, brows stitched into a deep frown. "Ms. Andersen, you have a very independent nature that many people would kill to have. The unfortunate side effect of this is…you're actually too independent. You don't rely on others, you shoulder the burdens by yourself, and while this may seem like a good thing, it's not. People aren't meant to be alone. People aren't meant to solve problems by themselves. I would think you'd know this first hand considering the career you're putting yourself into. An architect by him or herself can't put up a building—there's always others involved, and when other people are added to the equation there's always a certain level of trust that needs to be handed over.

"Being independent is well and good, but there are times when you need others. I just wish…you could've seen that sooner and learned to rely on others for a bit of support. If you would've come to me with the problem instead of a flimsy solution, I would've listened and helped you through it. We've known each other for four years after all. Chances are we'll see each other again. As I said before, the world of architecture is quite small, and with the level of skill you're bringing to the playing field, I have no doubt that you'll make a sound impact and make a name for yourself. So, while you're young, and still able to make small mistakes, please take this bit of knowledge I'm imparting and…think it through.

"Learn to rely on others. Give a bit of trust. If…if you let the right people in, if the trust becomes mutual, you won't regret it. There are far worse things in life than people who are willingly on your side. Take advantage of it."

She was wrong. Apparently there's more her professor can do or say to leave her completely speechless. Yet as she tries to find purchase in words that are becoming rarer and rarer around this man, he merely smiles warmly and places a warm palm at the top of her shoulder.

"I hope to see you in a year after your internships are finished," he states with a crinkly smile and gives her one last nod before turning and walking away.

She watches him go, stuck in place where he's left her and contemplating all the words of wisdom he'd imparted before leaving.

But trust…Trust is not something she's ever willingly given to just anyone. She knows it's a defense mechanism brought out by the same kind of peers she had willingly surrendered to before when she was younger, but people…people like Ben make it jarringly difficult to trust anyone. It's this same mindset that brings her to thinking the others: Andrew and how adamant he had been for a different solution, Hayley making it up to her by speaking with her grandfather—a stroke of luck more than anything, but still a life changing opportunity that she can't possibly repay even if she tried. And Kareem…someone she didn't trust from the get-go…someone she'd been wrong about all along.

Trust…It's letting someone in close enough to be burned and hoping that they won't. Even after everything that's happened within the last twenty-four hours…it's still a mildly disappointing feeling that it's still something she's unable to give fully save for one, maybe two people in the world.

Old habits die hard…

The blonde reaches for her phone, waits for the fingerprint input to read, and immediately finds her sister's name upon the recent calls.

"Hey Elsa!"

Her smile comes upon her face as automatically as her stride that begins taking her again towards the parking lot. The cadence of that voice, the way she can hear her name in the happiest and most carefree way.

The most perfect sound in the whole world. Inimitable.

"Anna," she calls softly, and she doesn't have to see the wide grin on the other girl's face—she can just feel it.

They hadn't spoken about the rally the previous night per Elsa's request. She knows her sister's a bit more than curious as to why, but Anna had unflinchingly talked about everything else under the sun to respect her wishes. They'll speak about everything…in person.

"Sorry Anna, but I have an unusually busy day today," she starts, getting to her car and pressing the alarm for it off.

"That's okay," her sister responds accordingly. "I figured you'd be finishing up the remaining touches on your project. I'm pretty much stuck in my studio all day to make up for missing work yesterday, so I'll just be on Skype. Call me here or there when you get the time."

"It won't be after eleven," Elsa says with a smirk, turning on the car and blasting the AC to make the hellish upholstery somewhat bearable. "Will you still be at your studio by then?"

"Yeah?" the redhead answers with a pseudo question. "It won't matter since I'll be on Skype, but yeah, I'll probably spend the night here. There are news vans littering the estate…I don't really want to go home right now."

This new information sends her face into a deep frown, her hand gripping the phone against her ear much more firmly than before. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah just…They probably want another crazy interview…"

The blonde sighs, garnering one in her sister's end as well.

"Want to talk about it? It's kind of…" Anna sighs deeply again, trailing off.

"We'll speak of it tonight," Elsa states resolutely and without question. "Don't worry Anna…we'll handle it…whatever it is."

"Mm," her sister murmurs, sounding sheepish over the phone. "I'll see you tonight, then?"

With this, the taller girl can only give a wicked grin to, happy above everything that she can keep this small bit of intrigue to herself for at least another several hours. "I'll see you tonight," she repeats, sitting back into the hot confines of her seat and closing her eyes, imagining the look Anna'll give her upon opening the door to the studio. Reality, she knows, is going to taste so much sweeter. "Love you Anna."

"Love you too sis!"

And the fact that the other girl is going to be completely unaware…Well it's only right, isn't it? The smaller girl had surprised her with a visit before and it had felt like her stomach plummeted to her feet. One thought remains as Elsa backs out of the parking space and begins making her way out of campus:

Anna had better be alone…and she might be just a bit late for class the next day.

AN: Sorry for the lack of Elsanna, but that's what next chapter's for (what do you mean I promised this last update?!). This is what happens when plot starts taking over…Thanks for waiting patiently for this update (even though I'm sure it's not worth it) and look forward to the next one. Happy New Year! :)

Chromantic: It's definitely not gonna be easier once Elsa hits New York, but at least they'll have each other now. The happy ending you're hoping for…I have it all mapped out in my head. People aren't gonna be happy :\

Tripower: Honestly I was pretty sad about the motorbike (I act like I didn't write it…) I'm still contemplating on whether or not Anna'll just get a new one, but…yeah…Happy New Year!

SakuraAyanami: I think I like to write roller coaster rides in stories…so much so that this chapter turned out much crazier than I anticipated. The bullet is dodged for now, but it's certainly not over and that's all you're getting from me on that :P The snowball has started its descent…let's see if it'll turn into an avalanche (yes it certainly will). Happy New Year!

david davison: Haha thank you for the comments, although honestly I see my writing as possibly mediocre at best, but I'm glad I can incite the proper feelings and escalate it from there. I'm kind of a masochist so that "inside strangling feeling thing"? I really live for those…

Crazyla: They certainly did eat the pizza! Haha I'm glad you're enjoying the fic this much, seriously. I hope this chapter lived up to its cliffhanger (it feels like it doesn't, but I always feel that way) and I am as grateful for every word in your review and every comment and compliment as much as you enjoy what I put out.

rurupeceaue: Haha is someone volunteering as tribute? To be honest though, author's notes take up about 2,000 words by themselves so the chapter was only (only XD) about 16,000 words. I have a lot of ish flying in my mind and all of it (and then some) go into paper. I think sometimes I may write a bit too much, but so long as it's useful to the story, I just let it happen. Fortunately (unfortunately?) there's not a lot of angst here too, but I promise there will be…oh god…there will be. I've painted only a realistic route to this storyline—there's absolutely no way I can get away from discussing the taboo topic that is incest. We will discuss it, dissect it, and make it a lifelong lesson to be learned. Elsa and Anna will be in the figurative and literal eye of the storm. You'll love it. They'll hate it. Win-win-win overall.

xo-j-e-i-j-a-h-xo: Sorry if I ever misspell your name by the way. I've painted Ben as such a bad guy…seriously. When I was writing this (with my whole realistic viewpoint and all that) I kept asking myself if someone can be this much of a douche. And then I realized yeah…there really are a lot of self-entitled jerks everywhere…and I kinda know them…so here you go! To be honest, shit has only started hitting the fan. Elsa gets a small break this chapter, but the peace won't last.

kenfromnhus: Look forward to the next!

Caliax: I'm horribly realistic. I will go to the very uncomfortable and extremely unhappy to drive a point across. I really liked Anna's bike too :( As for the anchorman, that's standard Fox News douchieness…in the end, kind of realistic as well XD

zelene2004: I refuse for this to be Stolen Ice's equal! That's a lie! SI is so unbelievably well written. I'm…I'm gonna take up your response space by fangirling SI. You need to reread it! This and that have zero, zero equalness. The metaphors, the descriptions. Hell…everything in that story is perfect. Fangirl rant ends here. Anyway…at the beginning of the story I've debated doing a one-sided perspective. Then my mind went ADD and I couldn't possibly leave both girls to have private thoughts which I'm kind of glad for because neither of their actions can be misconstrued. I will definitely agree that generational incest is…not very…tolerable. Let them AUs pile up…they'll end up somewhere.

Mel-Nonymous: Honestly, I think it would be a knee-jerk reaction for many people. Before delving and putting so much thought in this story, that's certainly my reaction, but yeah…it kind of opens your views to all the different possibilities and situations. Haha would having another incestual sibling be a twist? I certainly didn't put it in as such, but hey…here's to unexpectedly nice surprises. And you'll be happy to know that this isn't the last time you'll hear/see Kareem. He's certainly one of the nicer OCs I've painted. The group's reaction…was kind of tame wasn't it? Hmm…Well…can't change it now…:D Happy holidays!

FreelanceBum: I shall cough it up as Elsa being too busy with the project to not know, although in all seriousness she needs to start watching the news and being caught up with current events more often. It feels as if she's not looking up anything that's happening while everyone else is and she's literally at the eye of the storm. Being in New York will certainly change that. Haha and you're the first I've ever heard of feeling bad for pedophiles, although I can understand the mindset. It's certainly a black and white topic over the many gray areas that make up incest.

CanITellUSmThin: Cliffhangers are like…that aunt that gives you money during the holidays but you can't really stand her. You'll put up with it cuz it's somewhat rewarding, but you'd rather not have to deal with it at all.

Silently Watches: My happier, fluffier AU is actually not that much happier in my head honestly. Sure the parents will be alive, but the girls…oh god I picture their relationship to be pretty unsalvageable at first. Anna in that AU is certainly not as forgiving as in this one, and Elsa won't divulge a thing if she can help it.

iwantaparrot1: "Or die trying…" Hahahahahahaha…they'll be…alright. I seem to phrase that a lot now that I think about it…To be honest this story has been kind of freeform from the start. I had a scene and I wanted to write it and everything else kind of had to fall in place to make it happen (the scene with Elsa and her dad). Of course it transformed to what it is now, but only until very recently have I been confused as to where to end it. I have a firm grasp as to where now…and it's definitely not going to be my usual yellow bow tied so nicely like a present kind of ending. It'll be gritty and messy and…I'm only glad that I've put this as an angst/drama genre more than romance/general…cuz yeah…it's gonna go full throttle within these next few chapters…and I'm honestly kind of nervous about making people…angry. People will be so angry…

Guest: RESTART IT! WE CAN'T HAVE A HEART STOPPING JUST LIKE THAT! SOMEONE GET A DEFIB!

From101WithLove: One of the things I honestly try to not do is the whole "telling" rather than "showing" thing. Sorry if I've been relatively unsuccessful. And this requires major editing (as is with many of my works). Every time I post a new chapter even after it feels as if I've combed it over numerous times, I always spot a mistake so quickly. /shrug, bad authors are bad authors.

Lionheart: A clusterfuck of angst is certainly where all of this is going, but in regards to the chapter, I don't think it was that angstsy honestly.

Star: I like it when a story makes me cry…and that's why I'm always so effin proud when I make readers cry XD I'm just sadistic like that though…The tissues aren't worth putting out this chapter. But in a few more…most likely. :)

Kurrent: My true and honest reaction when I see your reviews: "Oh hey, it's Kurrent! :D" Careful actions and subtlety has no room in this fic—I don't want to drag it to forever. Elsa has dodged them becoming media-known this chapter, but will it stay that way? Stay tuned and find out next time on Dragonball Z! Yeah sorry, that ran away with me. The interview will be seen next chapter. Elsa hasn't seen it therefore we haven't seen it—damn you play on perspectives! I'm glad the scene with Jenna was truly understandable and insightful for many people, but I agree with the majority of her being in the wrong only because we can all see that how she's painting it is completely the opposite of what it truly is. And thank you for the reassurance of killing off their parents XD I like the us versus them mentality that it forces the girls in.

Guest: Your english is fine :) And thank you for taking the time to read it and leaving a review. We will get into the nitty gritty of the "incest fight thing"…Look forward to the front seat show :)

SkIpper: The progression of your reviews was very fun to read, so thank you for leaving a review per chapter and telling me what you think. I'm glad you enjoyed the feels. Please take the time to rest your eyes and sleep though! It'll still be there the next morning. I hope this one is enjoyable as well…regardless of the lack of well…anything but plot apparently.

ShadowSoldier23: Haha I shall try to keep the roller coaster running and rip your heart in every direction possible (whut?).

Elsa T. S. Winters: I had to read your review a few times to understand it (sorry if that coms across as rude. I don't mean it to) and in the end…I might have misinterpreted most of it (sorry). But…thank you for leaving one (even though I don't understand most of it). I do hope you enjoyed the story regardless…or maybe I'm misinterpreting even that. :\ Sorry.

Trinity666: The reactions of her classmates are definitely tamer than what a lot of people probably expected, but I'm hoping no one expected Ben to be a complete jackass. Thank you for the compliments and review, and I'm sorry to leave you hanging there, but it's safe to say, it won't be the last cliffhanger so…sorrynotsorry XD

Alizzy: Ruka's taken! Michiru would have a field day if she marries someone else haha. I hope you enjoyed the H&M stories and this one as well :)

Angstaholic: Sorry I haven't provided much angst lately, but rest assure it's in the horizon.