Helllloooo peoples of the internet!

Just as a warning, this is an Elsanna story, so if you don't like it, don't read. If you do, welcome friends, I hope you enjoy:)

I don't want this story to be a waste to anyone's time, so if you do like it, please review. It helps me know people are interested in me continuing the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen or any Frozen characters. That awesomeness is purely Disney's.

You have too much to do to be tired, Anna would tell herself, but that didn't make the exhaustion go away. It was as much a part of her day as rude customers and the cramp in her stomach from working through lunch.

She thought she had known what it meant to be tired, but she learned better after her parents died. Eight weeks she was able to live on the money they left her before she had to get a few jobs to support herself, and every day she had gotten less and less sleep.

"-nna? Anna?" called a deep voice as a calloused palm waved in front of her face.

"Heh?" she mumbled as she rub her eye.

The voice seemed to believe her exhaustion was a cue to be funny. "Your Highness, if you would be so kind as to sacrifice a few precious minutes of your time to review my meager purchases, this peasant would thank you kindly."

Anna lazily smacked Kristoff's head as he finished his regal monologue with a bow. "Stand, peasant, or I shall have your head on a pike," she rasped, her tone not even half-playful.

He stood up, pouting his lip and rubbing the back of his head in faked pain. A thin sheen of tears glassed over his now large brown eyes.

Anna rolled her bloodshot eyes. "Knock it off, Kris. Your puppy dog eyes are terrible." She glanced to her right, watching Kristoff's groceries sluggishly slide towards her on the conveyor belt. She grabbed the first item within her reach, Nutella (of course), and scanned it before sliding it down to Kai to bag it.

Kristoff leaned over the counter, watching as she fell into a robotic rhythm of grabbing-scanning-sliding without so much as a shadow of her usual smile. Eventually he had enough. "What's wrong with you? You look like someone just kicked your puppy or something."

Her eyes darted up to meet his gaze, sparkling with irritation. "Gee, thanks," she replied, her voice like a chip of ice. Without breaking eye contact, she tossed his bananas down to be bagged, her co-worker barely saving them from bruising on the edge of the counter. With a frustrated huff and shake of her head, she looked away from her friend and grabbed his remaining groceries with more force than necessary.

Kristoff furrowed his brow in concern. Something was definitely wrong. Her usually immaculate green polo was wrinkled with the collar popped up at several random angles, and her name tag was pinned on vertically, dirt and grime collecting on the corners of the tag where a smiley face sticker had recently been."Seriously. What's wrong?"

Anna pursed her lips, and one of her eyebrows twitched. "It's called-," she began before pausing to lift a bag of of large breed dog food over the scanner, grunting with the effort, before plopping it next to Kai who then placed it back in the cart with practiced ease, "-earning a living. You should try it sometime."

Kristoff visibly flinched at the venom in his friend's voice. "Jeez, fiestypants, I was just trying to help," he said in a soft mumble.

Shit. Way to go, Anna. Be mean to the only friend you have in this godforsaken town. "Wait, Kris—I'm sorry. I didn't mean..I-I'm just a little on edge. Everything's been really crazy lately." She paused to rub her temples, the incessant pounding in her head making her eyes feel ready to pop out of her head.

Kristoff gave her a warm smile, the one that never failed to brighten even the worst of her days. "No worries. I know the Weasel's been giving you a hard time."

"You have no idea."

"But I will soon." Anna raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I-I mean," he stuttered, realizing the awkwardness of his comment. "I'm getting a job."

"Cleaning your mom's store doesn't count, Kris," she said with a smirk.

"I'm not talking about my Mom's store," he said defensively, his normally deep voice squeaking in indignation. "Though that is a real job. ANYWAYS," he added quickly before she could argue. "I'm getting interviewed tomorrow morning."

"What's wrong with them?"

"What?"

Anna's smirked widened into a mischievous grin. "What's. Wrong. With. Them."

"What do you mean 'What's wrong with them'?" he asked with genuine confusion, oblivious to the playful glint in her eyes.

"I mean, they must be pretty desperate if they want to hire you of all people."

Kristoff cocked his jaw in annoyance. "Haha that's so funny I forgot to laugh."

"Ya just did, smart one."

He shot a her a glare which she promptly returned. They held gazed for a handful of seconds before Kristoff's lips began to twitch in a poorly contained smile that soon became laughter. Anna soon followed his lead. It felt good to laugh again.

"What's so funny, guys?"

Anna's next giggle caught in her throat at the sound of the new voice behind her. 'Help me,' she mouthed to Kristoff. He merely smirked before turning away and whistling a random tune.

With her only back-up abandoning her, Anna turned slowly, a stale smile on her face. "Hey, Meg," she reluctantly greeted through clenched teeth. "You need something?"

Meg stared at her shoes, a light blush spreading across her cheeks. "N-No," she choked out, nervously twiddling her thumbs. She cleared her throat. "I-I was actually wondering, since you get off shift soon, i-if you wanted to—I don't know—go see a movie or something?" she asked, looking anywhere but at Anna's face.

Anna blinked slowly, her mouth forming a surprised O. "Oh. Well, uh," she began, looking to Kristoff for help. "I would love to, but Kristoff's mom invited me over for dinner tonight."

Kristoff turned at the mention of his name. "Yeah, Mom's making dumplings tonight. I just had to swing by here and get a few more things. You're welcome to join us if you want."

Anna's eyes promised future pain for the last comment. I'm gonna kill you, Kris. She turned back to face Meg whose eyes, now dark and clouded with something Anna didn't even want to think about, were staring at her chest. Hearing Kristoff stop speaking and finally registering what he had said, Meg's eyes flashed back up to Anna's face, now clear of their previous emotion. "Oh, that's alright. Thanks for the offer, though." She began to slowly back away from the two. "I'll see you on Monday?" she asked Anna.

The redhead gave her a forced smile and a thumbs up. "Bright and early."

Once he was sure Meg was gone, Kristoff bent in close to Anna, his face inches away from hers. "Jesus Christ, Anna! That girl was practically raping you with her eyes!" he exclaimed in a barely controlled whisper, spitting slightly on her face.

"Watch it, dog-breath, you're slobbering on my face," Anna said in disgust while she wiped her face on her sleeve. "She's been doing that ever since she started working here. At first I thought she was just the nervous new girl, you know? But after I went out with her, I learned she's like this. She's just—" Anna gestured with her hands, trying to grasp the word to correctly describe the strange Greek before she settled with shivering in disgust.

Kristoff opened his mouth to speak, but his words turned into a yelp of pain when Anna punched him in the arm. "Ow! What the heck was that for?"

"You tried to invite her to dinner!"

"Well, I'm sorry I don't keep a log of all your stalkers."

"Well...you should!"

The two glared at each other before laughing. Again.

It was becoming a bad habit for them.

While the last of his chuckles died, Kristoff handed Anna his credit card. "Just face it, Anna. Weirdos flock to you like moths to a flame."

Anna huffed. "What does that make you then, oh best friend of mine?" she asked mockingly.

He proceeded to flip her off, a gesture that made the redhead giggle loudly.

"Anyways, about this job I'm—"

"Miss Summers!"

Anna yelped at the shrill voice booming from behind, dropping Kristoff's card in the process. She fumbled to recover the card before spinning to look down at the source of the outburst. "Mr. Weasel! I-I mean Weaselton! Sir, I, um—" sputtered Anna.

The short man, clad in a uniform similar to Anna's except pristine and well-kept, silenced her with his hand. "Miss Summers, I do not pay you to make mindless chit-chat with customers. Now get back to work or so help me I will make you clean the restroom floors for a month!" he shouted.

Anna cringed at the octave of his voice. Dogs would have cried at the sound. "Yes, Mr. Weaselton, sir," she replied submissively.

Mr. Weaselton huffed before turning on his heel and marching away, his hands folded neatly behind his back.

Seeing her boss turn, Anna stuck her tongue out and crossed her eyes, making a face that. Kristoff his his laugh in his hands, but their was nothing he could do about his snort.

The short man turned around just as Anna retracted her tongue and quickly swiped Kristoff's card. Then he finally left.

"Jeez, that guy's a major jerk," said Kristoff once Mr. Weaselton disappeared through a manager door.

Anna groaned and handed his card back to him. "That's nothing. This is calm compared to how he normally is. You should see him on Tuesdays. He's always mad on Tuesdays. Isn't that kinda' weird? If it were Mondays I would understand, because, I mean, who doesn't hate Mondays, ya know? But the guy just has this irrational hatred for Tuesdays. It's like someone craps in his cornflakes every Tuesday or something." Anna paused when she heard Kristoff laughing. Her face flushed red in embarrassment. "I rambled again, didn't I?"

Kristoff calmed his laughter to small giggles. "Just a little. But hey, that's the Anna we all know and love." He reached into one of the bags in his cart, pulling out a king sized Hershey bar. "Here, carrot-top. A treat for your troubles."

Anna glared slightly at the use of the demeaning nickname but took the chocolate nonetheless. She smiled in appreciation. "Thanks Kristoff. You—"

Anna was cut off mid-sentence by a sudden boom that bruised her eardrums and reduced her hearing to a keen ringing. The ground shook violently under her feet, and around her stands of food rocked before crashing to the floor. Register drawers shot open and the lights flickered. For a terrifying moment, the building itself felt like it was caving in, and the people inside screamed into the madness. Cans rolled high off of shelves and popped open on the floor like bomb shells. Kristoff hugged onto the counter for dear life while Anna less gracefully stumbled into the cashier behind her, causing whatever was in the woman's hands to go flying as they both fell in a heap on the ground.

But just as quickly as it started, the tremors stopped. Everyone was slow to get up, helping those who had fallen and checking if anyone was hurt.

"W-What the hell was that?!" exclaimed Kristoff as he still held on to the counter, refusing to let go just yet.

"How should I know?" Anna snapped as she helped the other cashier, Gerda, to her feet. The older woman held her arms and pinched herself to make sure she was actually alive. "An earthquake maybe?"

"That was awfully short for an earthquake."

"Shouldn't we be grateful for that?"

"I-I guess," he said, slowly releasing his grip on the counter and beginning to pick up his spilled groceries.

Anna stepped up to help him. "Here, Kris, let me hel—"

"Miss Summers," seethed a dangerously low voice.

Anna turned to find her boss covered head to foot with flour. Gerda gasped nearby, murmuring her apologies. That must have been what I knocked out of her hands. Flour. It took every ounce of willpower in the redhead to not laugh at the powdered man, but even then she couldn't contain the small snort that escaped her lips. Her boss looked like a mustached snowman.

Clearing her throat, Anna managed to somewhat compose herself. "Hehe," she laughed nervously, scratching the back of her neck. "Did I do that?"

Her attempt at a joke was met with a furious glare.

Anna sighed. "Kristoff, tell your mom I'm gonna be late. Looks like I'm in trouble. Again."

"Stupid Weasel. Stupid Flour. Stupid—Grrrrr! It's not my fault there was an earthquake!" grumbled Anna as she walked across the parking lot to her truck, trying and failing to wipe off the flour stuck in her hair and on her jeans.

Even though it was the middle of summer, she chose to wear her jacket. It was beginning to get dark out, and the comfortable material helped repel mosquitoes.

She paused in her walking at the sound of loud sirens coming from down the road. Turning towards the noise, Anna was surprised to see a swarm of police and military vehicles, more than she could count in the short glimpse she saw them, race down the road. There were some military trucks, patrol cars, and a few black vans with S.W.A.T. printed in white block letters on the side.

What the heck are they doing? Anna thought. She was going to ponder the thought further, but she was to tired to think.

She reached her truck at the back of the lot and pulled her keys from her pocket as she climbed inside. She loved her old truck. The chipped red paint and mud stains gave it character in her opinion. Sure, one of the windows was broken and it wasn't too reliable when it came to actually working, but it was one of the few things that made her feel connected to her parents.

Dad. Her father had taught her how to drive in this truck. Heck, he had the thing for so long, she could remember going to Kindergarten in it. The leather interior was wholly and stained from years of use and abuse, but every piece of damage held a memory in Anna's heart. The whole in the ceiling cloth was from when she tried to give her mother a sunroof for Mothers Day. The dark stain on the back seat was blood from when she badly cut her leg climbing a tree and her parents had to rush her to the hospital. Even the broken window was from her first accident.

Anna inhaled deeply. It had been over a year since either of her dead parents had sat in this truck, but she swore that if she concentrated hard enough she could still smell her father's cologne or her mother's hairspray, their memory forever embedded into the vehicle.

Tears began to form in the teenager's eyes. She was alone now. An orphan without a penny to her name left to fend for herself.

She gripped the steering wheel until the old leather groaned under her hands. Why must my life be so fucked up? Anna let her head fall against the steering wheel, hot tears running glistening trails down her cheeks.

The blare of the car horn made her jump in her seat. Her head thudded hard against the ceiling, adding to her ever-growing headache. When her racing heart calmed and the pain of her grieving heart dulled, she put the keys in the ignition and began the long drive home.

Pain. Everywhere. Why? Why does it hurt so much?

Elsa twitched out of unconsciousness, the numbness of sleep lifting from her mind like a heavy blanket. She focused on her breathing, on the slow inhale and exhale of air through her lungs. It was a concentrated effort just to inhale. Her chest felt like a led weight trying to press out her air and suffocate her.

Then she heard voices. She couldn't tell what they were saying. They sounded muffled, like they were talking to her through water.

She focused on her breathing again. The voices broke through the water keeping them front her, but she still couldn't understand. Their words were completely foreign to her.

"Is it an alien?"

"Get back and secure the area!"

"Why is there ice?"

The voices were close. Right in over her. Right beside her. Elsa strained to move her limbs, trying to sit up in order to see the source of the strange language, but immediately regretted it as a fresh wave of pain coursed through her beaten body. Nausea clung to her mind like a mist, but her stomach was to empty to even gag. She swallowed in a vain attempt to moisten her dry throat and coughed as the metallic taste of blood dripped into her mouth.

What happened? Where am I?

She rolled her head to the side, feeling her bangs, plastered to her forehead with sweat, fall into the the mixture of cold water and mud she was lying in.

She slowly cracked her eyes open, experiencing trouble opening the right since it was crusted shut with dried blood that ran down her face. She was immediately overcome by a blinding white light. Though her muscles screamed against the action, she brought her hand up to shield her eyes from the light's intensity.

"It's alive!"

"Get away from it!"

At the shout, the sound of footsteps ran away from her. Elsa blinked as her squinted eyes adjusted to the unnatural light. She shifted into a sitting-up position, leaning back on the elbow of the arm she wasn't using to shield her eyes.

What she saw scared and confused her immensely. Around her were men in strange black robes holding large, clear shields. When she looked closer, she saw that behind these men were some in mottled brown robes pointing strange sticks at her. There were at least twenty maybe thirty men. Even further behind them were metal carriages with bright torches on their fronts.

"Stay where you are," commanded a booming voice.

Turning towards this new voice, Elsa saw a man wearing green robes standing on something that raised him to be slightly higher than the men with the clear shields. He had auburn red hair with long sideburns and a suffocating air of immediately didn't like him.

What is this language? Elsa tried to say that she didn't understand what he was saying, but all that came from her mouth were unintelligible noises.

She froze. What? She tried again but only managed to make a slur of vowel sounds. What's wrong with my voice?!

As she moved to get up, she could feel the sting of cuts and throbbing of bruises she didn't know she had. She was in a small crater of charred dirt and lying in a large puddle with chunks of melting ice. Beyond that, she guessed that she was lying in some large field judging from the lack of trees and excess of grass.

Ignoring the screams of pain from her injuries, Elsa managed to maneuver into a weak standing position. As she stabilized her wobbly legs, she heard strange clicks as more of the sticks were pointed at her.

"Don't move," demanded the sideburn man through a strange device. "Surrender and come quietly, or we will use force."

Elsa turned around to find that the men with shields and sticks had her completely surrounded. The man with sideburns said something more, but Elsa ignored him.

She turned to her left at the sound of shuffling and saw the wall of men with clear shields part to allow four very large men into the circle they formed around her. They walked cautiously with their hands balled into fists in preparation for a fight. One man had a pair of thick handcuffs.

Elsa pulled her hand down and crouched into a defensive position, her fear overriding the pain in her body.

"We don't want to have to hurt you," one of the approaching men said.

The man with the cuffs tried to grab her wrist, but she smacked his hand and moved away a few steps.

"The subject is resisting. Use force," said the auburn haired man from before.

The four men quickly surrounded her. Startled, she swiveled her head all around, waiting to see what the men would do.

The one in her front left made the first move, throwing a punch towards her face. Elsa swiftly ducked and pivoted under the swing, her shoulder now under his armpit, before she jabbed her elbow into his face. There was sickening crunch, and blood immediately began to pour from the man's now broken nose. He hunched over in pain, and Elsa pivoted again before bringing her knee up into the man's chest, thoroughly knocking the wind out of his lungs as he fell forward.

One of the men behind her grabbed her in a headlock, lifting her feet off the ground. Surprising the men surrounding her with her strength, she shot her hands to the arm around her neck, holding firmly, before pulling her legs to her chest and thrusting downwards, successfully landing her feet on the ground with the momentum before she flung the man up and over her head to land on the man already on the ground.

She turned to her right, ready to take on the next two men when a sharp pain rocked her brain. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she fell onto one knee, clutching her head in pain. A boot collided with her face, and she was thrown on her side. Before she could recover, another kick was delivered to her already bruised chest.

As she gasped to recover from the blow and the now dulling pain in her head, she felt the man standing by her head roughly take one of her wrists and lock a handcuff around it.

Startled, a new rush of adrenaline ran through Elsa's veins. Her eyes widened and she grit her teeth as she swept her legs under the man, knocking him onto his back so he lay beside her.

One wrist in a cuff, Elsa rolled onto her stomach before struggling to rise to meet the last man standing who was quickly approaching her, knife in hand. She was up just in time to block a punch to her face. She kicked his side and he staggered slightly before re-gripping the knife in his right hand and slashing at her.

His moves were quick, but Elsa was quicker, blocking his blows by hitting the underside of his wrist with one of her forearms.

Just as Elsa formulated a plan to snatch the knife, the pain in her head came back, making her movements falter. The man took the opportunity to grab her right wrist in a vice grip.

Elsa's eyes threatened to close from the pain. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to curl up in a ball and rock the agony away.

She tried to bring up her left leg to kick him away but found her ankle was being held by the man she just tripped onto the ground.

The man standing brought the knife down, intending to impale her shoulder. Elsa quickly leaned back, dodging the hit, and the knife continued until it was embedded in her left thigh.

Elsa screamed in pain. The man in front of her grinned wickedly and twisted the knife in her leg. Warm blood quickly began gushing from the wound.

Elsa grit her teeth and glared at the man, vaguely aware of the other men in the circle moving closer to her.

She watched the man's eyes widen as frost raced over his hand and up his forearm, and she heard a similar reaction from the man holding her ankle. They both screamed and tried to pull away when the cold temperatures of the ice began to burn, but their hands were now frozen in place. Elsa brought her right leg up and hit the man between the legs and ripped her wrist from his grip. The ice chipped off his hand to reveal nearly black flesh beneath.

She grabbed the knife and pulled it from her thigh with a soft grunt of pain. Elsa bent down and plunged the knife into the frozen wrist on ankle, pinning it to the ground and freeing her leg.

The remaining men all charged at her, trying to overcome her in numbers. She dodged those who dove for her feet and shot ice at others. She found an opening and ran, thankfully in the opposite direction of the metal carriages and the man with sideburns who was now shouting furiously.

Elsa was fast, but with her new injury hindering her, she couldn't get far. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the metal carriages quickly gaining on her, the men in black robes not far behind.

She stopped in the grassy field, facing the oncoming enemies. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, focusing on the ice that ran through her veins. Holding her hands in front of her, she opened her eyes and furrowed her brow, raising her arms up and thrusting them out.

Ice coated the ground under pursuers. The men struggled to rise once they slipped, and walking, even crawling, was nearly impossible on the glass-smooth surface of the ice. The metal carriages manuevered around, so she sprung up small but thick walls of ice in front of them that they crashed into. The crash and ensuing smoke churned her stomach with guilt. She didn't want to seriously hurt anyone, but she had to get away.

Then she ran, or rather limped quickly, into the forest beyond.

Hans snarled in frustration. "Dammit!" he yelled, punching the window of a S.W.A.T. van, the only vehicle that was not wrecked beyond use. It was embarrassing enough trying to get off the ice without breaking his wrist (or losing his dignity), but she just had to escape as well.

"General Hans!" called a soldier who saluted behind the auburn man, his uniform wet from having to crawl off the ice.

"What," replied Hans coldly, turning to face the young soldier.

"The subject has escaped. What are your orders, sir? Do we pursue?"

Hans took a deep breath to clear his head. He couldn't think straight when he was mad, no matter how much he wanted her captured. "No. Right now, I want everyone present concentrating on getting rid of this ice and that crater. I want it gone by morning. The town can't know of the danger they're in with this creature running around. It would only cause panic."

"Yes, Sir!" replied the young soldier before he ran off.

Hans turned and walked to one of the ice walls that crashed a military truck. He ran his hand over its flawless surface, his eyes calculating the possibilities of such power. A large shadow beside him haroled the arrival of his partner. back to the S.W.A.T. car he was in. As he walked, he was joined by a large man with short ebony black hair and equally dark eyes.

"Duke," Hans said in greeting to the Lieutenant. Duke was a large man to say the least. His barreled chest was corded with muscle, his arms as thick as logs. He had short ebony black hair and equally dark eyes.

"Hans, are you blind?" Duke hissed down at the shorter man. "We should be pursuing her right now! She is hurt. She is venerable. You saw how strong she was! If we wait for her to recover, we'll never be able to catch her," exasperated the large man.

Hans leered up at his companion, glaring and baring his teeth. "Do not question my judgment, Duke! We will have her, but right now we need to get rid of this evidence. If the higher-ups get word of this, we'll never be able to use her, and you know it."

Despite Hans' scathing retort, Duke seemed to be placated by Hans' response, "So after this place is clean, then what?"

"I want every unit under my authority utilized, including your teams. No soldier or officer is allowed leave. I want her as soon as possible, and I want her alive."

Hans smirked as he opened the passenger door to the S.W.A.T. van. "Don't worry, Duke. We'll get what we want. But we must be patient," he said as he sat inside and slammed the door.

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