Chapter Text
"Now arriving at Terminal C."
Anna tightens her grip on the overhead handle as the airport shuttle slows to a stop. When the doors slide open, she waits for all the other passengers to exit, though she can't help wondering if the doors will close before she has the chance to leave. She tells herself that's ridiculous, but with the luck she's had so far on this trip, it's not completely implausible.
In the past eight hours, she's had to deal with her Uber dropping her off at the wrong side of the airport, her flight getting delayed by two hours, nearly losing her luggage because a rude, old lady tried claiming it as her own, and finally a four-hour flight behind a baby who wouldn't stop crying. One misstep after another, problem after problem; a perfect metaphor for the life she's leaving behind.
Anna is the last to leave the shuttle and the corner of her suitcase clips the closing doors. It's the slightest of inconveniences, but it's still enough for her to want to curl up into a ball and shrivel away into nothingness.
Checking her phone, she confirms to herself for the hundredth time that her dad is waiting for her at Door C5. In the maroon-colored sedan that he bought Anna after she graduated high school; the one she left behind after leaving for college.
The fact that her parents still talk to her is a blessing, the fact that they're letting her move back in is a miracle.
It's been eight years since she last stepped foot in Arendelle, she never even stopped by for Thanksgiving or Christmas. The gray, morning clouds that fill the massive glass panes of the airport give her the cold, drab greeting that she deserves for running away. It's not entirely her fault that she hasn't returned until now, but she still takes all the blame anyway.
She hurries towards Door C5, refusing to let her dad wait any longer than he needs to. Drowsiness grips her whole body and makes every step feel like she's walking through mud, but her body carries her forward until she finds a large glowing sign with the correct letter/number combination. Before going any further, she shoots a quick text message to her dad to tell him that she's about to go through the doors. After a satisfying back stretch and a deep breath, she steps through the terminal doors.
The sounds of speeding cars and slamming trunks bounce off the concrete walls and the intersecting highway ramps above the airport. It's a cacophony of city noise that urges Anna to find her dad before people start getting mad at her for merely existing. Luckily, she spots him in no time since he's the only one here willing to jump and wave his arms around at seven in the morning.
Anna grins, it reminds her of when he picked her up after a week-long camping trip back in middle school. His tall, lanky figure and the green sweater he's wearing make him look like one of those inflatable tube men. When she starts making her way over, her dad stops doing his botched jumping-jack routine and cups his hands over his mouth. He shouts, "Move your caboose, Anna! Gas is money!"
Gas is money. Anna rolls her eyes at the familiar phrase and then picks up her pace. Leave it to her dad to make eight years away feel like nothing. He still has his carefree smile, skin somehow paler than hers, and a messy brown head of hair. The only new touches are a couple of wrinkles around his eyes and the start of a beard along his jawline.
He holds his arms out when they're only a few feet away from each other. "There's my girl," he exclaims proudly.
Anna goes to step into the hug but then hesitates. As much as she doesn't want it to be true, it has been eight years. Eight years of minimal contact. Eight years of shame. Eight years away from not just her parents, but from everyone. Is this hug- this welcome home- what she really deserves?
No. Of course she doesn't deserve this hug…but she needs it.
She releases her grip on her suitcase, slips her backpack off her shoulders, and finally steps into her dad's arms. She sinks into his warmth, his arms feel like strong pillows, and a familiar scent of Old Spice overwhelms her.
And she begins to sob.
"You hungry? Ginny's should be open by now, or if you don't want to get out of the car I can find a McDonald's drive-thru somewhere."
"I'm okay," Anna replies. Her weary eyes watch the cityscape pass by in a gray blur, concrete buildings blend into metal bridges against the overcast weather. That's definitely one thing she'll miss about living in the Southern Isles: the colors. Oceanside living meant she was always surrounded by beautiful shades of blue mixed with the isle colors of crimson and spotless white. Cities are drab and lifeless in comparison.
This image will fade the closer they get to her hometown. From the few pictures she's seen of present-day Arendelle, it looks like they've kept their purple and green aesthetic. It's something to look forward to as they get out of the city, but still a distant second from the Southern Isles.
A painful thought enters Anna's mind while she's reminiscing: If you loved the colors so much, why didn't you stay? It's an easy question to answer, but that's not enough to keep the guilt from creeping over her shoulder.
"That's fine, I'm sure your mom would kill me if your first meal back wasn't something homemade." Her dad chuckles and shoots a glance her way.
Anna stops her moping for a moment to turn and give a smile to assure him that she's listening. Smile and listen, the things she knows how to do best. She even offers up a question of her own, "Was Mom awake when you left?"
He scoffs, "You kidding me? She was up before I was. I walked into the kitchen and she was doing some last-minute cleaning, trying to make the whole place spotless for your big homecoming."
Homecoming, she wishes that were true. This feels more like a shameful return, a coward's journey, a dog skulking back with her tail between her legs. Anna sinks further into her seat, looking at her hands folded in her lap, "She didn't have to do that."
"Ah, you know how your mother is," her dad replies.
Even with the radio on, an uncomfortable silence settles in. Anna tries to think of a way to break them out of it, knowing she's the one that caused it, but she's unsure of what she can say without addressing the eight-year-old elephant in the room. Fortunately, her dad does her dirty work for her.
He lets out an awkward cough. "So hey, uh…listen. I know it's been a long time since we've- you know, since we talked. And I know you've probably got a lot going through your head right now."
Anna tightens her lips at that harsh understatement.
"I don't know if this will help, but I just want you to know that…your mom and I don't blame you. College and especially your early twenties are a weird time in your life, it's when you do a lot of work to figure out who you are. And that's what you were doing. So if you think that we blame you for anything, or that we're mad at you, well that's the farthest thing from the truth."
Anna's face twists in confusion; they aren't mad at her? The first real conversation she had with them for years was to ask if she could move back in...and they hold no resentment over that? They should be mad, they should be furious, they should have said no. Anna grips the knees of her jeans and mutters, "I didn't even invite you guys to the wedding."
"Hey, we didn't invite you to ours," her dad jokes. But when he doesn't hear laughter, he clears his throat and says, "We're sure you had your reasons. And when you're ready to tell us, we'll be here to listen."
"I could tell you now."
His eyes widen, "Oh. Uh, well maybe you should wait until we get home. Your mom will want to hear all about it too, you know?"
Anna nods slowly, "That's true."
Maybe she should have expected her parents to take all of this so well. They've always been so understanding of her mistakes to the point of absurdity. When she was eight, she almost burned down their kitchen after she watched Shaun of the Dead and tried making a Molotov cocktail. The next day, they visited some firefighters who taught her about fire safety and then bought her ice cream.
She always wondered if their "over-understanding" was an overcorrection after they adopted her. Like maybe they figured that she'd gone unloved for the first five years of her life and didn't want her to feel unloved ever again. But it's too late to tell them not to try so hard, so she's learned to roll with it.
Somehow, she'd need to learn to roll with this too.
Twenty minutes later, skyscrapers turn into trees which turn into the bustling beehive of suburbia. Arendelle is a small town in the shadow of the big city, the kind of place people try to leave as soon as possible to move on to "bigger and better" things. It's also the kind of place you move to when you're looking for "smaller and sustainable".
It's a fifteen-minute drive from the south side of the town to the north side. Along the way, you can see some breathtaking sights like a two-dollar movie theater, Molina Street which is perpetually under construction, and the elementary school with its brand-new administrative office! And if you aren't a fan of the purple-and-green aesthetic, you'll learn to, because it's everywhere. From the buildings to the street signs, and down to the icing on the cupcakes in the bakery.
Under different circumstances, Anna would feel better about being back home, but everything here just serves as a shameful reminder of everything she failed to become after leaving. So little has changed, the stress dreams she had about being back in high school captured the layout of present-day Arendelle perfectly. And now her high school is just around the corner.
One step forward, three steps back.
Her dad points towards the two-story building, the painting of their reindeer mascot is fading into the brick. "Seems like yesterday I was dropping you off at the front gate for your first day as a freshman," he says before proudly slapping her knee. "And now look at you!"
Anna scowls at him.
"No yeah, sorry you're right. You're right." He purses his lips. "Too soon."
"Way too soon," Anna adds.
They drive through what passes as Arendelle's shopping district, and her dad takes a right into their neighborhood. Anna tries to look for anything new that sticks out from the carefully constructed pattern of house-fence-house, but all she discovers is a couple of unfamiliar cars and a pride flag hanging above the Madrigal family's front door.
"You remember Isabela, right?" Her dad asks when he sees her looking at the flag. "She came out a couple of years ago. It was a little messy at first, but everyone came around eventually."
Anna's eyebrows raise. Isabela was one of the popular girls when they were in high school. She always wore gorgeous dresses, and it seemed like she had a new boyfriend every week. She never would have expected her to be gay. "Where is she now?" she asks, hoping to see at least one familiar face still around.
"Doing some world tour thing with her sister," her dad answers. "They left last week."
"Oh…" Anna holds back a bitter sigh. "Good for them."
As their house comes into view, memories start flooding back. When she looks at the cream-white walls, she sees herself boldly climbing up the ladder to help secure the Christmas lights. When she sees the freshly-mowed lawn, she pictures the bounce house they rented for her twelfth birthday party. When she sees the blinds poking around the corner of the front windows, she thinks back to their old tabby cat eyeing her as she returned from school.
And when she sees her mom waiting for them on the front porch, she remembers the love she left behind for nearly a decade.
Her dad cranks on the hand brake once he parks in the driveway. The engine cutting off leaves them in an abrupt silence that lasts for only a second as he beams at her and says, "Welcome home."
Anna returns the smile with silence and a sad twitch of her lips. She steps out of the car, her legs rejoicing for the end of a long journey, and a moment later she's wrapped up in her mom's tight embrace. Thankfully, she doesn't cry this time.
"She's back! My Anna is back!" her mom exclaims. "Oh, I missed you so much, my sweet girl."
If her arms weren't currently trapped by her sides, Anna would hug her back. "I missed you too, mom, but I can't feel my fingers."
"Oh that's okay, you don't need them," her mom replies, her soft chestnut hair tickling her chin.
Anna tilts her head back and strains to say, "Dad? A little help?"
"Hm? Oh, of course." Her dad approaches the two ladies and, in a show of support, embraces Anna from behind. Now trapped in a group hug, Anna simply sighs and accepts her fate. Surely, this would have to end soon.
Ten minutes later, they finally unload the car and settle inside. Anna's glad to see some changes to the interior of the house, like a new, smaller dining table and a much-needed redesign of the bathrooms. Her room, however, looks exactly as it did from the day she left for college. Even down to the half-open blinds and the lanyard with her high school ID draped against her vanity mirror. Her mom explained that, though they cleaned her room regularly, they tried to leave everything in its place so Anna would feel at home during her visits.
Another stone of guilt drops into the pit of her stomach at those words.
They sit in the kitchen having a rather superficial conversation about other touch-ups they've done around the house. And then her parents share a look, the same one they shared before telling her about the cat dying.
Her mom folds her hands and places them on the table. "Anna, you know that we love you…"
Anna nods, her gaze slowly dropping to her half-empty cup of hot chocolate. Not even her favorite drink could help the unease pounding away at her gut. "I know," she says in a near whisper.
"But you have to understand how sudden this is for us," her mom continues. "The last time we heard from you was on Christmas; you sounded okay. And then six months later, you're calling us- in tears- begging to come back home. It hurt my heart to hear you like that."
"I know," Anna repeats in her still, soft voice. "And I'm sorry."
"We don't need an apology," her dad says. "We just want to know what's wrong, and to understand what our daughter's been up to for the past eight years."
Anna hugs herself, her right hand reaching across to grip her left shoulder. She's gone over this moment so many times in her head, wondering how her parents would react once they were all home. She expected them to show less patience with her. "I know I have a lot to answer for," she says.
"Oh, sweet girl, please don't say it like that," her mom interrupts. "You're not on trial, we aren't mad at you, we're just concerned."
"Very concerned," her dad adds.
"And all we want is to understand so we can help you."
The threat of sobs grips Anna's throat and pricks the back of her eyes. She told herself that she was done with crying, but it seems her body doesn't want to cooperate. She tightly shuts her eyes and takes a deep yet shaky breath. It's eerily silent as she does this, almost as if the whole world is holding its breath waiting for her. When she opens her eyes, she says, "I'll tell you everything...all of it. But it's going to take some time."
Once again, her parents look at each other. This time with smiles that contrast with the worry in their eyes. "Take all the time you need," her mom says. "We're just glad you're home again."
Anna's breath catches, there's one thing she needs to tell them sooner rather than later.
Though she appreciates her parents for taking her in again, her goal is to stop being a burden to anyone. As soon as she has the means to, she's going to move back out again so that her parents can have their home back to themselves. But this time she's going to do it right, this time she's going to do it on her own. She opens her mouth to tell her parents this, but then thinks otherwise. They look so relieved to see her again it would be evil to break this news to them so quickly. So she sips her hot chocolate and says instead, "I'm happy to be home too."
Soon after, the conversation transitions back to a lighter tone as they make plans for breakfast. Though it's not much of a conversation once her mom settles on making omelets and potatoes (one of Anna's favorite breakfast meals). As the smell of butter and fried potatoes permeates the kitchen, and the far-too-cheery voices from the morning news start from the living room TV, Anna tilts her head back and lets the world move around her. One more day, she tells herself, one more day of peace.
And then she's back into the fire.