Dare You To Move (A Songfic)

soundtrack: dare you to move by switchfoot

Welcome to the planet

Hiro swallowed, hard.

Welcome to existence

He was still shaking slightly as he lifted his helmet, but he steadied himself, taking a deep breath.

Everyone's here

He looked around at his team, wondering.

Everyone's here

Go Go with that steely determination in her eye. Wasabi big and tall and not showing a trace of that once crippling fear.

Everybody's watching you now

Fred clutching the head of his suit, uncharacteristically quiet, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Honey gazing at him with her hazel eyes understanding and hopeful.

Everybody waits for you now

And Baymax, steady and constant as a beacon on the sea, looking down at him with what almost felt like love.

What happens next?

Hiro was tired. He was confused, he was afraid, and he was terribly shaken.

What happens next?

But they had a job to do, and they were going to do it. And do it right.

I dare you to move

He put the helmet on.

I dare you to move

He tugged it over his shaggy hair, feeling the now-familiar weight slide onto his head.

I dare you to lift yourself up off by the floor

He adjusted it, shifting it so it sat straight, feeling the scratched material under his fingertips.

I dare you to move

He blinked through the visor, shaking mussed his hair out of his eyes.

I dare you to move

He looked out once more at his friends, heart throbbing in his chest.

Like today never happened

And then he set his jaw, refocusing his thoughts into one single goal, ready once more to lead his team.

Today never happened before.

"So, what are we waiting for?"

~~~

Welcome to the fallout

They burst out of the garage into an incongruously sunny day, silent and purposeful.

Welcome to resistance

As they'd practised so many times before, they clambered onto Baymax, each taking his or her assigned place: Hiro, Honey, and Go Go on top, the other boys both safe in a giant robotic fist.

The tension is here

The robot rose into the air, his passengers clinging on tight, until they hovered kilometres above the city in miniature.

The tension is here

Knuckles white, Hiro grit his teeth in the face of the powerful winds, thoughts churning.

Between who you are

Here he was. Just a scrawny fourteen-year-old boy with a bigger brain than most. Just a kid who was bitter and angry and up to now had had more power than was good for him.

And who you could be

But things were right again. He had a team by his side and a best friend in the robot he rode. He could be more than the boy who only hours ago had tried to kill a man.

Between how it is

Because now they were after Callaghan not for revenge. They were going to save innocents. To help people.

And how it should be.

Just like Tadashi had wanted to do.

~~~

Maybe redemption has stories to tell

They landed on the top of the Krei Tech building and alighted, steel in their eyes, fire in their hearts. None of the team gave another thought to Hiro's earlier meltdown. They were here and now, and they would stand with their friend no matter what the cost.

Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell

Hiro couldn't keep a small smile from his lips as his team banded by his side. What had he ever done to deserve them?

Where can you run to escape from yourself?

On the roof of the building, looking over the crowds collected for Krei's opening speech, they planted themselves firmly: six heroes waiting to be needed.

Where you gonna go? Where you gonna go?

They weren't going anywhere.

Salvation is here

From the corner of his eye Hiro saw a dark, hulking, shifting mass move towards the stage. Callaghan.

I dare you to move

"Come on!" He leapt into action, running across the roof, closer to where the man had begun terrorizing the crowd, dispersing it in all directions.

I dare you to move

Go Go was first to follow, snapping her gum, wheels sending sparks up from the floor.

I dare you to lift yourself

Then Wasabi, face set hard, lighting up his blades as he charged across the building.

To lift yourself up off by the floor

Fred let out an involuntary whoop as he bounced behind them, a comical and yet formidable sight in his blue rubber suit.

I dare you to move

Honey put one hand on the strap of her purse, ready to receive her chemical concoctions, wedge heels flying across the cement.

I dare you to move

And finally came Baymax, lumbering but unstoppable.

Like today never happened

They were ready.

Today never happened before.

Your move, Callaghan.

In Silence (A Songfic)

now playing: In Silence by Michael W. Smith

On the stairs she sits and waits

On the floor of a penthouse on 6th street, a girl curled herself into a hard, tight ball, thick blonde ponytail thrown heedlessly over her shoulder.

It would have been any other depressed teenager--why are depressed teenagers so very, very common?--except for the ice that was radiating out from her, creeping unrelentingly across the floor.

She's crying out

She was silent, swaying slightly, save for a breathy whimper that was drowned by the sound of crackling rime.
If she had the strength and courage, she would have liked to scream, letting the pent-up terror and sadness and cold out into the open, but she had neither, so she continued to weep softly in the night.

But nobody even cares

Except Anna did. Anna cared very, very much. But Elsa couldn't let her, and she couldn't decide if it would be better had Anna never cared at all.

Holding in the hurt and pain

So she continued to sit in the centre of a carpet of ice, the edges sharp and dangerously beautiful, trying desperately to steady her breathing, to stop the fierce stinging in her fingertips. Inside her she felt her stores of sorrow and loneliness grow fuller, tugging at their restraints. She wondered what would happen if she let them loose.

Looking for love

Love?
Love was not for monsters such as she.

To come pull her from this place

It was better this way, she knew. For all parties concerned, except maybe her--but what did it matter? What did she matter?

Then came a soft but insistent knocking at the door.

~~~

I'm not gonna sit and stay in silence

"Elsa?" A familiar voice rang out from the other side of the pale-washed wood. Waiting for an answer, Anna fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, absently checking her watch. 12 AM. Far too late to be on yet another futile mission, but even if the store manager had been an absolute bear today there was no way she was letting a week pass without at least trying to see her sister.

I'm not gonna walk away in silence

Even if Elsa never came close to opening the door.

After a few minutes of insufferable silence, Anna repeated her greeting. "Elsa?" she called, aiming to make her clear voice approachable but urgent, rapping knuckles relentlessly on wood. "Elsa. Are you okay? Open the door, sis. Just for a little while?"

Her voice grew pleading. Elsa and she had never been close--well, except for a brief, blissful, blurry period of childhood--but ever since their parents had died Elsa had closed herself off completely, and in the process shut Anna out.

~~~

Sometimes we're loudest when

Anna was a loud person, always had been. Constantly babbling, bubbling over with stray thoughts and joyful exclamations. Perhaps that was part of the problem. Perhaps her exuberance intimidated Elsa? 

The doors are shut and no one can see our face

On the other side of the door, Elsa gazed fearfully at the door, torn. It would be so simple to stand up, put her hand on the knob, stop Anna's incessant knocking. 

But she couldn't. Even the paper-thin possibility made her draw away once more, backing away from the tempting doorknob.

But it seems we're quiet when

Anna hated second-guessing herself. It wasn't like her. But if it meant reaching her distant sister--

She stopped knocking. Spoke in barely more than a whisper. "Elsa, please."

Someone needs a touch of heaven's grace

"No," Elsa whispered back, knowing the door would bar her words from ever reaching Anna. "No, no, no, no, Anna I'm sorry."

I'm not gonna sit and stay in silence

Anna waited several minutes more. The watch on her hand ticked away softly. She was going to regret this tomorrow when her early shift started.

No, she wasn't.

Finally she gave it up, just for tonight. Tomorrow she could try again. She could always try again.

I'm not gonna walk away in silence

"Goodbye, Elsa," she breathed to a closed door, and then quietly walked away.

Cut Through the Heart (A Frozen One-Shot)

Frozen Fandom Month: What If Week: "Wildcard."

What if Hans had kissed Anna?

He kisses her.

It's a short, business-like kiss, but Anna likes it. It feels nice.

"Did it work?" She looks up into Hans' solemn face, her own expression eager, trusting. So trusting.

She doesn't feel any different. She still feels cold to her very bone despite the blazing fire. Her heart still throbs in her chest, leaden. But maybe it just takes a little time. Of course it worked.

"Of course it worked." Hans voices her thoughts exactly, and she smiles, though it hurts to smile.

"Our mental synchronization," she whispers to herself, eyes fluttering closed.

Hans, too, smiles, wrapping a thick wool blanket closer around her, movements brisk and harried. "Can have but one explanation." 

A gust of frigid wind blows the window open and howls into the room. Hans curses and slams the shutters closed. 

"I have to leave, darling. Urgent business--the kingdom is desperate. The fire is hot, you'll be fine. Just wait here and get your strength back." 

She nods imperceptibly, tucking her chin in under the blankets. "Meant to be," Anna 
says, dazed. Why does she see the full moon dancing before her eyes? It isn't night. Is it?

She hears him leave, his boots soft on the carpet. She hears him close the door quietly behind him.

She doesn't hear him turn the key and lock her in.

~~~

Kristoff's work in Arendelle is done. Broad shoulders slumped, he begins the long, weary trek back up the mountain. 

Then Sven is nudging at him, forcing him to look back. He doesn't want to look back, but he does.

And the worst storm he's ever seen brews above the castle. A massive, hulking thing, it swirls slowly, stirring up shreds of white and grey. It looks like a crouching animal made of cloud, and it threatens to spill over any minute, onto hapless Arendelle, onto the castle, onto Anna.

Kristoff shakes his head. She's with her true love. She'll be fine.

But will she?

As he wavers, worry gnawing at his stomach, Sven pushes him hard with spiky antlers. The mountain man glares. The reindeer simply makes a face and nods towards the castle.

Before Kristoff even knows what is happening, they're charging back down the mountain, back down the paths they trudged moments ago, this time their flight wild and determined as if driven madly by an unseen force.

~~~

Anna's sunk into a hazy sleep when a loud crash wakes her again. She starts from the sofa, afraid for a second, then realises that it's just the window. It's blown open, again.

Hans said to rest, but the banging shutter annoys her, so she swings her legs off the sofa and attempts to stand.

Her legs feel stiff and hard, like they're carved out of oak, and she only takes one step before she falls with a little gasp. A hand strikes the table, sending pain shooting up her arms. Anna looks at her hand, and for a moment is seized by paralyzing fear. Tendrils of ice reach through the skin, forming patterns almost like the rosemaling on her woven skirt, stinging like acid. They'd be beautiful if they weren't so terrible.

It should be working by now. Why isn't it working?

The window still stays open. The wind still screams through the room. Anna curls into herself at the foot of the sofa. She can't reach it. It's too far. 

She's too cold.

~~~

Sven pounds down the mountain, Kristoff clinging tight to his rough fur. Both of them are silent save for heavy breaths as they race through the forest, down into the valley, into the city. They enter the castle complex. The reindeer's hooves coax sparks from the cobblestones.

Anna. She'll be alright, Kristoff tells himself, but he can't shake this feeling in his chest that something's gone terribly, terribly wrong. And Sven seems to feel the same.

At any rate, it can't hurt to see her again, one last time.

They blaze through the main square, but are stopped at the castle gates by the guards. Desperately, Kristoff tries to explain his mission, resisting the urge to pound on the heavy doors that separate Anna from him and Sven. Either he isn't making any sense, or he just looks too disreputable, because the guards dismiss him in no uncertain terms.

Kristoff lets out a groan of frustration, tugging at his own blond hair. Then he sees a man about to make a delivery of wood at the side gate.

He scoops up a handful of wood from the cart, leaves Sven behind and slips into the castle seconds before the gate slams shut.

~~~

Anna can feel the wooden floor through the carpet as she hugs her arms to herself. Her bones ache with an old sort of ache. Out of the corner of her eye she sees white snake its way down her carrot braid, turning it into a rope of ivory.

Her heavy cape does nothing for her. This cold comes from the inside.

For the millionth time her heart stabs in her chest, sending out needle-like icicles that reach to pierce her lungs. Anna cries out sharply, but there's no one to hear. She tries to take deep breaths. They come out short and ragged.

She pictures the curse creeping up her limbs, weaving into her skin, turning flesh and blood and bone into ice. She wonders which part will freeze last. 

She wants to scream, but she can't. Her voice sticks in her throat, and even the effort causes a ringing agony to spread across her chest.

Sleep starts to tug at the edges of her vision. The pain dulls, heart growing heavy in her chest. 

Ice. Ice, like fire, consumes all.

It didn't work. Why didn't it work?

This is her last thought before she sinks into the black, black cold.

~~~

By the time Kristoff breaks into the room, wood splintering beneath his fists, it is too late.

Cold As Ice (A Frozen One-Shot)

Frozen Fandom Month: What If Week: "Ending."

What if Anna hadn't thawed?

For a moment a terrible silence hangs over the fjord.

The storm stops. Snowflakes hang suspended in midair. Everyone's gaze turns to the brilliant blue figure in the middle of the ice and the collapsed queen by her side.

Kristoff doesn't seem able to take his eyes off the awful sight of Anna, frozen mid-leap like the most lifelike statue he's ever seen, her eyes open but unseeing. He barely notices Sven nuzzle up to him sympathetically. He's numb, and not with cold.

Then, from his distant vantage point (too far, too far to have reached her), he sees the queen get up. She's tiny, he realises, about the same size as Anna, but somehow much, much more fragile. 

She recoils at the sight of her sister. Almost faints. Then slowly, slowly, she's running her hands over Anna's lifeless face, her own contorted in pain.

Only for a second does Kristoff allow himself to think that: it's your fault. You caused this. Because the next she's crumpled into her sister's icy arms, too overwhelmed even to support her own weight, and crying like he's never heard anyone cry before, much less his sovereign. 

Her sobs are as soft as whispers, yet they carry across the fjord.

And he knows she never meant for it to be like this.

He's about to leave--there's nothing he can do for her now--when he sees Hans, the redheaded Prince of the Southern Isles, begin to raise himself from the ice, already clutching his blade in hand. Anger boils. Knowing he can never defeat an armed swordsman, however, Kristoff does the next best thing. He charges across the fjord with Sven close at his side, sweeps the queen up as he slings himself onto his reindeer, and heads into the mountains, never once looking back.

~~~

As Sven climbs away from the fjord, Kristoff's mind races ahead, but he's too agitated to think straight. He isn't sure what happened to Olaf, and hopes that the sentient snowman finds his way to safety. In his arms the queen weeps softly, seemingly too overcome to even protest at the mountain man who's taking her away. The mountains are silent, too silent. Sven's hooves cut through the eerie stillness, leaving deep marks in the pristine snow. All around them the falling snowflakes are still frozen in place. 

Finally they've run far enough that Kristoff feels safe. Only then does he allow Sven to slacken his frenzied pace. Only then does he look down at the queen in his arms.

She's fainted, or maybe fallen asleep. Her breathing is heavy and laboured, and a frozen tear halts midway down her cheek. And even swaddled between the coarse fur of Sven's back and the thick material of Kristoff's jacket she trembles. But not with cold. Anna said she isn't bothered by cold.

She's so young. The thought strikes Kristoff. She's older than Anna, but still only about as old as he, maybe not quite that. And delicate, as if carved out of fine porcelain. The kind that breaks with the lightest touch.

Again he pulls off his cap and places it on her head, watching her thin shoulders--shoulders burdened with an immeasurable weight--rise and fall as she struggles in her sleep. It reminds him too much of his last ride with Anna, and he feels a sharp tug at his chest as he once more urges Sven into a run. He has to get her to safety, and quick.

They whip through the forest, the urgent pounding of Sven's feet stirring the snow into mounds like crumpled paper. Every once in a while he glances down at the monarch in his arms. She still sleeps fitfully, but Kristoff guesses he should be thankful for that.

Kristoff doesn't know what he's feeling. He's never been good with feelings. 

Pity, he supposes. He pities her. She's been through far too much.

Maybe a little resentment, for keeping her secret so long, for hurting Anna. But Anna never blamed her, so he's not going to.

Fear. Not so much fear of her, not of the tiny woman curled on the back of his reindeer, even if she is the queen, but fear for her. And for himself, too.

Anna loved her, he knows. And he loves--loved--Anna: Anna endlessly brave, Anna hopelessly hopeful, Anna overflowing with life and laughter and love. 

Anna loved her, and, looking at her, he thinks he feels a little bit of that love, too.

~~~

It takes all the way to the trolls' dwelling for the full reality of what he's done to sink in.

As he lifts her off Sven, a queen featherweight in his arms, his heart pounds in his chest.

He's just practically kidnapped the queen of Arendelle. They'll be out for him, he's sure. But he can't bring her back, not now. 

He has no idea what happened with Anna's fiance. The last he saw the man was attempting to murder the queen. And Anna's heart finally killed her, so he knows it couldn't have been true love.

Carrying the queen deep into the troll lands, he curses the fact that nobody else witnessed Hans' deed. Kristoff guesses that Hans probably is a skilled strategist and a polished speaker besides being a prince--there's no way either the broken queen or he, the man from the backwoods, can do anything against him.

Arendelle is in the hands of a murderer now, and he, Kristoff Bjorgman, is giving its unconscious monarch to the rock trolls.

What has he done?

And, more importantly, what is he going to do?

~~~

The horde of trolls is respectfully sombre, a far cry from their usual boisterous selves, as Kristoff brings Queen Elsa to Grand Pabbie. 

The troll leader motions for him to lay her down. He hesitates. It doesn't seem right to put the queen on the forest floor. Finally Kristoff settles on leaning her against a moss-covered stone. She stirs, and moans a little, but doesn't awake. 

"What happened?" Grand Pabbie's tone is serious as he places a hand on the queen's forehead.

He explains, slowly and painfully, stumbling over his words. "I...I don't know what's wrong with her."

Bulda tugs at his pants leg and pats his arm comfortingly as he kneels. "You did the right thing, Kristoff."

The man gives the troll he's come to think of as a mother a grateful, harried smile before turning anxiously back to Grand Pabbie. The trolls saved her sister once. They can save her too. "Will she be okay?"

Expression apologetic, the troll heaves a heavy sigh. "You know, Kristoff, that matters of the heart are beyond us."

"You mean--"

Before he can finish the thought, Elsa awakes--whether it's the shock wearing off or the cold ground he doesn't know. At first she seems stunned at the stone creatures leaning over her, her eyes wide, and then she starts to go into a panic, breath coming short. The trolls disperse, giving her some space, but she's too far gone for that. Mute and giddy, she stands uncertainly, eyes darting about like a hunted animal, and then she starts to run.

She doesn't reach the edge of the clearing before Kristoff tackles her. As he brings her back, his grip firm, she shudders violently, heaving. There's a wild, haunted look in her clear eyes.

Again, Grand Pabbie sighs. "There isn't much we can do for her," he says. He cups her cheek, mutters a few words in a strange, guttural tongue. Elsa's eyes slide shut, and she crumples in Kristoff's arms.

"Sleep will help her forget," Grand Pabbie explains. "Sleep heals."

"There's nothing else you can do?" Kristoff can barely believe that this powerful rock troll can only provide Elsa with a nap.

"Bulda and the others will take care of her when she awakes." Grand Pabbie turns to leave. "Otherwise, there is nothing else we can do."

~~~

Kristoff is disappointed, maybe even angry, that his hero cannot do more. He follows Bulda to the tiny cave where she's laid Elsa on a bed of soft moss. The troll is singing a whispery, soothing song as she bustles about preparing a salve. 

"Can you save her?" Kristoff asks. He can't bear the thought of Anna dying for Elsa only for her to slip away, too.

Bulda looks at him with sympathetic eyes, as if she knows what he's thinking, and perhaps she does. "I'll try my best, child."

Every day the troll cares for the queen, preparing panaceas, offering comfort. She scours ancient troll magic for useful spells, but their incantations provide no remedy for grief. And Kristoff returns daily with herbs he finds in the forest, plucked with rough hands not mean for fine work. They both do their best.

But their best isn't good enough. She cries out in her sleep, coating the walls of the cave with spiked ice. When she does awake she is silent and terrified, shaking for hours, curled up into a tight ball. 

They try to help her, but she fades away before their very eyes.

They bury her in the forest. Bulda tells him there will be crocuses in the clearing come spring.

For as she goes, the winter melts away, and it seems cruel to Kristoff that the summer birds should begin to sing when their queen is dead.

News comes from below the mountain. Hans has seized the castle, they say. He will be crowned king come the morrow. The people rejoice, celebrate the hero who saved them from the ice witch.

Kristoff does not return to Arendelle.

(I CAN'T BELIEVE I KILLED ELSA IN A FIC. I HAVE REACHED A NEW LOW.)

Daughter Mine (A Frozen One-Shot)

Frozen Fandom Month: Duos Week: Parent/Child

Lightly, the queen put her hand on the knob. The door in front of her was painted white, with symmetrical rosemaling in blue and purple paint, and from behind it she could hear soft whimpering.

Locked.

She fumbled in her jacket pocket for the key, and hastily stuck it in the door, entering the room with silent tread. What she saw seemed to cut her heart straight through, though she kept her face serene.

Elsa--her daughter--was curled up at the corner of her bed, surrounded by sheets of slick ice, head in her arms. The eight-year-old didn't seem to notice her mother enter the room. She continued crying, softly, hopelessly. It was painful to watch.

In a flash Queen Idunna was on her knees at her daughter's side, hesitantly placing a hand on Elsa's shoulder, hoping she wouldn't draw away. Elsa flinched a little at the contact, but didn't protest. Instead she abruptly stopped crying, still not looking up.

"Elsa, what happened?" Idunna tried to keep her voice steady. Seeing her little girl like this every day--so terrified, so distant--tore her apart. Elsa's attacks had become more and more frequent, each leaving her in tears, and sharp and raw like the fragments of ice that lined the windowsills. Yet increasingly Elsa had begun to push her parents away, speaking only when necessary, shrinking from physical contact.

All this was pushing the young queen dangerously close to falling apart herself, but she had to keep it together, had to stay strong for her hurting child.

Elsa made no response, only lifted a tearstained face to her mother. For a moment Idunna feared she would distance herself again, force the queen out of the room. Indeed, Elsa seemed briefly to consider this, pressing her lips together hard as if to keep them from trembling. But then her face crumpled, and she collapsed into her mother, burying her face into the queen's chest, breaking out into fresh sobs.

Queen Idunna started slightly. Then she wrapped her arms tightly around her child, trying to keep tears from her own eyes. "Shhh," she soothed, running a hand over a smooth blonde head. "Shhh. It's okay. It's okay."

Even if it wasn't okay, it was something Elsa--both of them--needed to believe right now.

She held her daughter like that for several minutes, ice slowly puddling beneath their feet.

Finally Elsa found the strength to speak. "I...it was geometry, Mama. I didn't understand, and then Mr. Jakobsen got angry, and then the ice came..." Her voice shook, and she burrowed deeper into her mother's arms, mumbling the words against deep purple fabric. "And he was scared, and Papa came in, and he got angry, too--" Elsa stopped and squeezed her eyes tight shut, willing the bad experience away. "I...I don't like it when Papa's angry. He's angry a lot now."

"Oh, darling. Oh, daughter mine." Idunna sighed. The situation put a lot of stress on her husband, and though he tried not to let it show, Elsa was a perceptive child.

"He's not angry at you, my darling. He just wants the best for you. We both do," the queen reassured her child, cupping her cheek red with crying. "We're proud of you, princess. We love you very much."

"I love you, too," Elsa said in a muffled, trembly voice, and Idunna felt deeply how unjust it was for a child to carry such a burden.

But she merely continued to hold Elsa close, ignoring the icy water seeping into her gown, and trying to hide how frightened she was--afraid for her daughter, afraid of what lay ahead.

Photograph (A Songfic)

Loving can hurt

Her key made a scratchy, grating sound in the door as Honey opened it. She stepped into the house, face unusually sombre, and slowly made her way upstairs to her room.

She felt strange. Physically, she felt numb and cold--but her heart was heavier than it had ever been before.

Loving can hurt sometimes

Walking as if in a dream, she made her way up to her room. Oh, she hurt. How she hurt.

But it's the only thing that I know

She had loved Tadashi, she knew. It hadn't been yet another silly childish crush. This time it had been real.

It was still real.

When it gets hard

She dropped her purse on the floor and sat down to pull off her black heels. She hated black.

You know it can get hard sometimes

The funeral had been black, so very, very black. Grey skies with huge, ponderous clouds, umbrellas of ebony that glistened in the rain, and dark earth that swallowed up the white wooden coffin.

Perhaps if the love hadn't been real, it wouldn't be so hard now. Honey bit her lip. Perhaps if they had never loved--then her heart wouldn't feel like it was shattering into hundreds and thousands and millions of pieces.

But no--it was a wise one who said better to have loved and lost than never loved at all.

It is the only thing that makes us feel alive.

~~~

Only a few minutes later did Honey glance up, and the first thing she laid her eyes on was the miniature clothesline strung across her bedroom wall. Colourful little clips held dozens of Polaroids and photos in place, the repeating motif in each photo a smiling bespectacled girl and dark-haired boy. Honey caught her breath. Then after a pause she got up, ran a hand over the first photograph, and took it down, cupping it in slender brown hands.

We keep this love in a photograph

She remembered taking this picture. It had been right after his first successful test of Baymax. Wild with exhilaration, he'd kissed the robot, and then he'd kissed her on the cheek too. 

We made these memories for ourselves

She'd blushed madly, she remembered, and then he'd apologised bashfully, but she had waved it off. And then she had taken the photograph, wanting to remember the moment.

Where our eyes are never closing

They'd been happy. So, so happy. 

Hearts are never broken

The photograph was a little wrinkled, a corner bent, but the joy in their faces was still palpable, even after all this time, even after all that had happened.

Times forever frozen still.

~~~

Loving can heal

With trembling fingers, Honey took down the second picture. She remembered this one too. 

He'd told her he loved her, and she'd replied in kind, and there were smiles and laughter and maybe even a few tears. How they'd walked on clouds for days after that! How they'd imagined a future together!

And it's the only thing that I know

And now--now she couldn't imagine her future without him in it.

I swear it will get easier

Would she ever stop hurting? Would she ever stop feeling like she couldn't breathe and couldn't smile and couldn't do anything but be swallowed by the darkness, darkness unbelievably strong?

Remember that with every piece of ya

Tadashi had helped her overcome every darkness, but now his absence was the deepest darkness of all.

And it's the only thing we take with us when we die.

What had he been thinking when the fire took him? Had he been thinking of her?

~~~

Then Honey took down all the photos, one after another, swiftly, decisively. She couldn't keep them up there. The memories hurt too much.

Fighting back tears, she gathered them all in her lap, rocking back and forth slightly in the winds of grief. 

And if you hurt me

She clasped them to her chest, thin, flimsy pieces of paper, but filled with life and laughter and love and everything she had lost in a single night. 

Well, that's OK, baby, only words bleed

The tears began to flow, and she let them, weeping freely now, wishing more than anything for Tadashi to come back, to pat her shoulder, to take away the pain.

Inside these pages you just hold me

To come back.

And I won't ever let you go

He'd promised, hadn't he? He'd promised never to leave her. But now he had, left to a place where she would never find him, and from which he would never return.

At that moment, she felt completely, utterly, irrevocably alone.

Wait for me to come home.