I don't own Frozen.
"Good morning, sunshine," Anna said, passing a freshly steeped cup of tea to Jane. "More like, happy midday."
"Don't call me sunshine," Jane said, taking the ceramic mug and inhaling, squeezing the flesh of the sliced lemon wedge into the drink. She blew on the orange polka-dotted mug and humid steam hit Anna in the face.
"Or what?" Anna challenged.
"Or I'll zap your lips shut," Jane took a sip.
"Wha— can you, can you do that?"
Jane looked at Anna with raised brows, then took another quick swig of tea. She drew her index finger up toward Anna's face slowly, threateningly, then course-corrected at the last moment and bopped her on the nose.
"Of course not," Jane said. "But still… don't call me sunshine."
"We need to work on pet names," Anna continued haughtily, uncrossing her dazed eyes from her focus on Jane's perilous finger.
"You misunderstand the definition of the word need," Jane said.
"How 'bout this," Anna said, plopping beside her at the kitchen table. "I'll call you Jane until we get all of your information from Hans. And then, I'll just call you by your real name, over and over again."
"That sounds… lovely," Jane smiled, opening up a buzzing laptop.
"Unless I want to call you sexy, in which case… good morning, sexy."
Such was the pattern since their return from Edinburgh. Anna being Anna, insisted they stop off at her beach house in Southampton once they had taken the jet back to the hanger upstate. Dumbo… Dennis was thrilled to inform Jane that he had not stalled out over his last three practice runs, and maintained the best record in the simulator out of his brothers. At Anna's encouragement, Jane had patted/thumped the boy on the back in some sort of approving gesture. Despite the awkwardness, Dennis guaranteed an immaculate jet upon Jane's next flight.
Anna had spread a Robinson map projection of the world over the breakfast table, papers cluttering the edges and Jane's series of laptops humming at one end. The pair was using this time to regroup, giant red marks circling Amsterdam, Edinburgh, and now, Las Vegas, Nevada. There were lists of contacts in each city, notes on money transfers, and Hans's login information date and time stamped in an extensive Excel table.
Why they hadn't flown to Vegas directly, Anna hadn't known. Hans was moving quickly, but Jane raised the point that Europe's close proximity between countries did not allow for true jet lag symptoms to manifest in the short jaunt from Amsterdam to Edinburgh. But flying all the way to Nevada from across the Atlantic would likely mean Hans would need a day or two to reacclimate himself to the North American time zones. Especially if he was presenting a classy, professional business pitch. That, and Hans had logged onto two accounts from a Manhattan IP address, and had hit an ATM in Jersey. Jane had smugly drawn a huge red circle over New York, and Anna had stuck out her tongue.
The proposed course of action for their first full day back Stateside: sleeping. They snuggled up in a brass double bed, ocean waves a soothing lullaby. Touching liberties were taken, though Anna did not overreach with her tactility. She wanted to introduce Jane to her hands over time, so that when they did make love, Jane wouldn't send a surge through Anna's spinal cord. She also encouraged Jane to go gloveless, to caress her at will without a protective barrier.
Jane had been right about one thing: Anna was a glutton for kisses. Simply ravenous. Pecks, smooches, tongues, sucks, smacks, and everything in between. It felt so liberating after so many weeks, to finally be able to claim Jane after constant self-denial. To linger over hugs and grin against the cloud-white apple of her cheek. It felt so blissful to be in love and on track to requital.
And in the Hamptons! Anna was this close to getting Jane into a bikini, but Jane had placed her fists on her (generous) hips and had challenged: "You and what army?" The statement didn't exclude beach walks, though, so Anna had conceded and drug the blonde (still fully, conservatively clothed, dammit) over the dunes to the tide's edge. Damp sand grit between her toes reminded Anna of that tense novelty she had experienced with Jane on St. John. Here, farther north, further in time, deeper in feeling, was a contrasting newness supplemented with security. Secure in herself, for the moment, but more secure in Jane's candor. The blonde's admissions in Scotland had left her raw and precarious as a stripped wire, but Anna had taken hold despite the possibility of electrical burns. They both emerged unscathed, and Anna reveled in her triumph.
"Has the bidding war stopped yet?" Anna asked, coming back to the sun-lit kitchen. She maneuvered behind Jane and her hands slid down over the other woman's arms, Anna propping her chin on the blonde's shoulder. They stared at the blinking monitor before them. Jane leaned her head against Anna and extracted one hand from the embrace. She kept refreshing the page, dollar amounts climbing higher with every click. The most recent bid hit thirty-two million.
"Nope, and take a look at this," Jane said, tapping control T. "He's extended the deadline for another two weeks. Wants to see how serious they are."
"The hell? This is the exact opposite of what was happening for him in Scotland. He was begging for investors in the Scotch industry. I can't understand how he's got so many interested on the gambling front."
"He was somewhat isolated in Scotland," Jane reasoned. "He might have more contacts here, or might be giving the investors more information. They're more likely to respond if they know the details."
"Is that the case? We haven't seen anything in his emails."
"Not yet. But he's been emailing the top bidders personally, encouraging them with extra benefits. But they're sort of like you, they only use their first initials."
"How's that?"
"Top bidders for project tentatively titled B4: A, B, C, D, and H."
"This makes no sense for Hans," Anna said, eyes aching from staring so intently at the screen. She rose from behind Jane and rested her bum on the edge of the table, staring at the keyboard in thought.
"You know him better than I do," Jane said.
"Yeah, but let's put the pieces together here. He's got wine connections in Germany, owns his own vineyard for fuck's sake. Then he's tried with harder stuff, more masculine stuff, like the Scotch, the dark Irish beer. He's in with Frollo, so he has the women. Performers? Servers for the drinks? And now he's recruiting major investors for gambling operations."
"You thought he was going to host something? An event?" Jane asked.
"Initially, yes, but the investment amount doesn't make sense for a one-off occasion," Anna explained. "There's too much money being thrown around. The number of girls, the amount of alcohol, the prestige at the gambling tables. I think he's going legit. Planning his own start-up."
"Like… a casino?"
"Yes… and no," Anna said. "Hans is well-connected. That's his thing. He's also really pompous, and super classist. That's why he only approached big-name brewers in Scotland. Why he went to Frollo directly instead of a lesser John. He's got insecurity issues, being the youngest in a big family. He thinks he always deserves more than what he gets. That's why he angles for the superior, the best of the best."
"But what does that have to do with him making attempts at a legitimate business venture?" Jane asked.
"I think he is doing something along the lines of a casino. Or a… club. But he'd make it exclusive. Royalty, celebrity, billionaires. That's the kind of clientele he's looking for. But for that kind of business, he would need some serious backers. And I'm not talking beer companies. Those are peons in the grand scheme. I'm talking major industries, billion-dollar conglomerates as primary backers. Has he moved from his location?" Anna asked.
"Not according to the tracker," Jane said.
The red dot on the satellite map was still blipping on the eleventh floor of a high rise in Manhattan. They had already investigated the building, some renewable energy non-profit office on the floor below, and a Russian cleaning service stationed on the floor above. Nothing that would set off any alarm bells for Hans. If he was planning on building a club, installing some blinking slot machines, it was not in New York.
"But I don't think he'd set up shop in Vegas, either," Anna said. "Vegas is old hat in that regard. He's trying to do different things. Variety, the next big idea. The exclusivity of it all. Vegas doesn't differentiate. Blue-collar bets are as good as white collar there. I don't know why he'd focus on that area."
"Hold up…" Jane set to typing, fingers gliding over keys with the grace of a skater on ice. Her eyes scanned the screen and then she shut them, pupils still moving, fingers still flying, windows popping up faster than Anna could read them. Code poured from her hands, informational liquid, the machine underhand sopping it up like an absorbent paper towel. Jane typed faster than the machine could register, and the woman herself sent off a couple of wild sparks. Anna stepped back from the table. Suddenly the screen paused, an open window with what Anna recognized as the format for an outgoing email. Jane hit three other buttons in sequence and screen shot the window, saving it to a drive in the process. She yanked the USB from its port before the screen of the laptop started blinking, blurry green schisms against a black backdrop of nothing.
"What happened?"
"Virus imbedded in the email for hackers," Jane said. "He's clever…" she smirked. "But I'm better," and she raised the USB with two delicate fingers.
"All hail the Queen of computing," Anna said, relieving Jane of the USB and shoving it into a port on a nearby tablet. "What'd you save it under?"
"XyKqP4l8j592MN."
"That's ridiculous."
"You would never have known to open it. Most cryptology is diversionary."
"I'm just going to start tapping files," Anna said, butt on the table, feet propped up on the seat of a chair, tablet on her knees. She began thumping away on the tablet with aggressive pointers, like playing a loco rendition of "Chopsticks" on a digital screen.
"No, wait!"
"What's this, hmm?" Anna said, a word document popping up. "A has been increasingly affectionate toward me, and even made us lemonade today when we went down to the lake. It's strange having someone act as such an attentive hostess, and not entirely unwelcome," Anna read aloud.
"Give me that!" Jane made a flailing attempt to snatch the tablet from Anna's grasp, knocking Anna back over the US section of the map spread on the table behind her. Anna continued playfully.
"And she insists on gamboling about in this odd ensemble of denim overalls, which seem relatively short for public exposure, but apt for the humid Louisiana climate. Again, not entirely unwelcome."
"That's enough of that," Jane said, hovering over Anna, who was lying on her back over the dining table, butt on Florida and the back of her skull grinding Nova Scotia into a ringed water mark at the left place setting. She plucked the tablet from Anna's hand and set it aside.
"You're such a girl," Anna teased.
"Thank you for noticing."
"No, but you keep a diary."
"It's an informational log," Jane responded.
"You like my overalls," Anna said warmly, reaching up to run a hand over Jane's bangs, which had flopped forward over the crown of her head. Jane looked like a blameworthy puppy that had just been caught urinating on the carpet. Those big blue eyes and that apologetic pout, looking down at her so charmingly.
"I'd not really seen overalls ever adorned in such a fashion," Jane returned. "Yours fit you so well. Your…" Jane's eyes scanned her. But the look was slower than the one she used on her computer screen. A bit more comprehensive. Anna twitched below her.
"… body, as well as your personality."
"We'll get you a pair," Anna promised.
"I don't think I'd be able to pull them off as well as you do."
"I do possess an air of youthful charisma while wearing denim."
"They were quite fetching," Jane whispered, and tentatively inched down to kiss Anna, who, though resting uncomfortably on the table, was amenable to the idea. Anna's arms wound their way around Jane's neck, and she pulled her in to inject a little more heat into the action.
Ten minutes later, Jane pulled herself up off of Anna, panting and pink. "That wasn't supposed to last so long."
"Oops," Anna said, unapologetically. She propped herself up on her elbows, obscuring the better part of the Canadian border and the Long Island Sound. "Come back, and let's not mean for it to last longer this time." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
"We were making out on top of Hans."
"I didn't hear him complaining."
Jane rolled her eyes. "Work first," the blonde chided, pulling Anna up from the map and pointing from New York to Vegas. "Then play."
"Party-pooper."
"Libido slave."
"Look who's talking, dilated pupils."
"Truce and investigating now, I'll kiss you on the beach later," Jane said.
"Even though you were a hermit, you are such a romantic. It's saccharine and overly sentimental and I love every second of it."
"And even though you don't like the computer work, you possess intuitive reason and understanding of human motivations. I could use your talents for our little investigation."
"Fine, fine, but beach later, okay?"
"I promise."
The screen shot Jane had captured of the infected email was an invitation to Vegas for a poker tournament held to celebrate the winner of the current bidding war. It would take place in three weeks time, and would serve as an open negotiation for others who wanted into Hans's scheme after the primary partnership was established via a legally binding contract. It was basically an open call for all investors, but didn't guarantee shareholding properties or company control aside from the party who placed the highest bid. An investment that saw return, but no company control. This gave Anna and Jane three weeks to prepare, to dig further into Hans's plans, though Anna felt pretty sure they were on the right track.
But the question still remained: why would Hans attempt to establish himself as a legally respectful businessman? He aimed for prestige, but his crutch was power. Anna had seen it on too many occasions not to recognize it. Prestige may come with legitimacy, but power came through illegality. You had to break a few knuckles and cement a few feet to become feared, intimidation being one of the greatest bolsters of power. More money and more power could be accumulated through felonious acts. So what was the point of going commercial? The more she pieced together, the more out of character Hans seemed to be acting. The entire affair reeked of wild geese and hapless chases.
That would be their mystery to solve. Jane ran some tracking bugs back over the emails of the lettered parties Hans had contacted, hoping to uncover their identities through some fancy computer means that was beyond Anna's comprehension. What did register for Anna was Jane finally finishing around four o'clock, which meant they could go out to the beach for the rest for the evening. Walk and lie and talk and swim and… be. With three weeks until the tournament and Manhattan merely a car ride away, they had some downtime to spend together, adjusting to the new parameters of their relationship. A liminal sort of love.
"Can I see it?" Anna asked, as she stabbed another marshmallow onto her skewer. Her elbows knocked her angled knees, the metal stick hovering over their open bonfire while flames gooified her sugary treat. The sun was setting behind them, the mauve sky over the Atlantic front-lit by their modest firepit.
"See what?" Jane asked.
"Your powers."
The fire crackled in the silence, and another marshmallow was added to the air space atop the surging flames.
"You've already seen them."
"I mean for real. I want you to be comfortable around me. All of you."
"I know, it's just… difficult."
"I get it. But you could start with something small."
"Like what?"
"Try powering the flashlight," Anna said, holding up a compact Maglite in her palm.
"Put it over there, I'll try."
"No, do it while it's in my hand."
Jane shook her head.
"I might not have gone to school, but I know batteries are built for conduction, not bodies. Just channel it in there," Anna instructed.
Jane held her palm open over Anna's hand, fingers jittering. "Easier said," Jane mumbled.
Jane hadn't even touched Anna, but the power from her bare palm released a static shock against Anna's finger. Anna yanked it back and shook it out, but, most importantly, offered it to Jane again.
No hesitation.
"It's not hard, it's just a flashlight."
"But what if I hurt you again?" Jane asked.
"What if a meteor knocks me senseless in thirty seconds? Do it Jane, life is for the living!"
The blonde straightened her hand and with it, the light brightened, cylindrical beam shooting out powerfully into the darkness over the water. She crumpled her fingers and the beam died, then she flexed them to renew the surge. Anna waved the device about, beam never faltering.
It didn't just feel like she'd turned the flashlight on. There was a subterranean tingling in the device, a distinctive presence that wasn't battery or bulb. Like a supernova under a fingernail. Fireworks below the dermis. Jane, an essence, gurgling in the crevices of plastic and glass. It felt deeply personal, and Anna brought her hand up to meet Jane's. The light glowed pink and hot under the skin of their clasped palms.
"Wanna try something bigger?" Anna said, looking over her shoulder at the beach house.
"I could knock the entire system out," Jane said.
"I know where the breaker is if I need to reset it. And if that doesn't work, I might just have to find my way around with my hands. Hope you're not ticklish."
Jane set her marshmallow skewer aside, abandoning her Hershey squares and graham crackers. She dusted the sand from her shorts and shucked granules from her hands, planting her feet squarely before facing Anna's property.
"I really have been needing to do this for some time," Jane said, rotating her wrists and flexing her fingers. She brought her hands to her torso and her chest contracted. She pressed outward with her eyes closed and the lights in Anna's beach house surged, as did all of the lights within the line of sight along the beach. They flickered, one, two, three, and then returned to normal.
Jane sat back down cross-legged, and set to work constructing her s'more.
"Do you have to do that often?" Anna asked.
"Yes. It lessens the chance of sparking. My body contains a building current, and I need to get the energy out. If I don't, it will just accumulate, and I'll end up hurting someone or destroying something."
"Is that, that thing with the lights I mean… is that what you usually do?"
Jane contemplated her fireside snack. Strings of warm chocolate and marshmallow connected her fingers like spider webs. She attempted to lick one finger, and rid herself of the residue. The sugar avoided her attack, and transferred itself to her chin. "No."
Anna took her thumb and swiped the divot below Jane's lip, and then scrubbed her fingers with a wet rag. Brown-white goo on green fibers. Jane's brow was furrowed, her fingers curled over her chin, undecided in movement.
"Then what do you do?" Anna prodded.
"I… make lightening."
"Really?!"
"Yes."
"Will you—"
"No."
"Please, Jane. You said you needed to."
"I go to very secluded areas to do this, A. I don't need people seeing me, nor do I want you in the vicinity when I do discharge. I wouldn't hit you, but-"
"I think you could control the impulses if you, I don't know, embraced them? When you use them for a certain utility, like when you're on a job, you never seem to overdo it. You can surge specific points of a system and leave others in tact. So think of your powers as a muscle. They just need a little exercise."
"Ah, but your reasoning has a flaw. Over-exertion can irreparably damage muscle tissue."
"Only if you don't stretch first. The flashlight and the houses were a warm-up. Time to burn some real calories," Anna challenged.
Jane looked out at the water, a night-dark, guttural ocean before her, two unoccupied beach houses to either side of the pair. Anna watched as Jane flexed her bare fingers, walked them along her extended thighs; nervous habit or more, Anna was unsure.
"Do you want me to go inside?" Anna asked, serious.
"No. I've never… the electricity never searches for a grounding point. I'm the point, it won't hit anything I don't want it to."
"What do you usually aim for?"
"I aim for the sky. It rebounds off the densest atmospheric layer and dissipates into compressed vapors. Tonight's actually a good night for it, with all this cloud cover."
Anna regarded the pumpkin embers in their fire pot, ash flying on the scant wind into the beach grass on the dune behind them. At any moment dry brush could ignite, flames spread, and destroy the beachfront. Jane could spark, Anna would seize, and her adventure would end. Though her convulsions would be worth witnessing the phenomenon currently situated three inches to her right.
When have I ever been sensible?
"Go for it," Anna said, gesturing absently to the incoming tide. "Neighbors are out, and we'll call you a siren if a fishing boat spots you. Just sing while you're at it."
"Perhaps… " Jane said, rising. She threw a cautious look toward the door of the beach house.
"I want to watch you," Anna mumbled, still contemplating the sizzling logs. "I promise to stay put. I won't even stand up."
"I won't be long."
"Take as long as you need. I'll be right here."
There's something unnerving about silent lightning. Anna never gave much thought to that violent strip of brightness hotter than the surface of the sun. She was unaware of the science behind it; she only knew it was frequently accompanied by clapping thunder and sweating clouds. It came in colors from the sky, like parachuting songbirds or landing planes or descending rainbow arches.
But Jane's lightning was special.
Relief, certainly. Anna watched as Jane's body heaved against itself, her arms shooting upwards as if she were trying to shake the hand of the stratosphere. Bolts zigzagged from her fingertips toward space, hitting a cloud and spreading inside of it, bulbous shadows flashing within its fluffy, moist interior. With every discharge Jane looked more fatigued, her energy quite literally zapped from her body, shoulders slumping, back curving, knees bending. But a good tired.
A lethargy of accomplishment.
Her movements were uninhibited, the loosest, freest, most jelly-limbed gesticulations Anna had ever seen Jane perform. Gone was the poise of a cat burglar. Exhaustion quickly followed exertion, and the white streaks didn't reach nearly as high as they had initially. Jane was on her knees now, her clothing smoking at the joints, her sleeves burned in charring patches. She flopped porpoise-like into the retreating tide, soaking herself in salt water and damp sand.
Anna wanted to run to her, but she had made a promise. Jane knew what she was doing.
Right? She wouldn't over do it, certainly. But I did push her...
When Jane didn't move for another two minutes, Anna tossed caution to the ocean wind and made her way down to the seashore. She tried to walk unhurriedly, as if women collapsing into the surf after expelling something like two hundred billion volts of electricity happened to her on the daily. She fell to her hands and knees, crawling over Jane's barely-there footprints, erased by the waves.
She covers her tracks when she's not even trying.
"Jane?" Anna tried.
The blonde turned her head over to face Anna, a surprisingly forceful wave hitting the bottoms of her feet and bunching the sides of her tattered shirt up around her ribcage. Jane's abdomen was paler than a salt lick. Anna wanted to place her palm to the covered obliques, but resisted for fear of residual power.
"Can I… are you alright?"
"I'm great, A. Thanks," Jane said.
"Does that… does it always take so much out of you?"
"Yes. I'm exhausted once I let it go," Jane said, trying to roll to her side.
"Can I… can I touch you?"
Jane nodded into the sand.
Anna's hand found her side and it was warm. Still paler than an Englishman, but the skin felt overheated, as if sunburned.
"What does it feel like? To let all of that out?"
"It feels… good, I think. Like running a fuckin' marathon, though," Jane answered.
"Do you need to, like, eat something? Can I get you some water?"
"It's not about replacing the energy," Jane said. "It's like a stress relief. Getting it out of me."
"Your shirt is singed."
"Lightning is hot."
"Why didn't you take off your clothes?"
"You gotta buy a girl dinner first," Jane mumbled.
Anna's fingers curled into the warm flesh of Jane's abdomen, and she chuckled.
"How does it… when there's… how does it work?"
"Hmm?"
"What does it feel like when it's inside of you?" Anna questioned, ever the curious one.
"I don't notice it until I think about it. Sort of like breathing. You do it all day, it's just involuntary. But when you do think about it, you can control it, you know? It's like, blood, in my veins, pumping. The current, traveling... I can't feel it, but I know it's there. Know that if I get a paper cut on my finger, and I press the flesh around it, the blood will just seep out. Pressure released. I don't feel it exiting my body, but I can voluntarily eject it."
"So you do have some element of control," Anna prodded.
"Yes. It's better on nights like this, when I can let a large amount of it out."
"It was kinda pretty," Anna said.
"You're kinda pretty."
"That's just the fatigue talking," Anna said, moving to pull Jane up by her shoulder. They sat in the darkness of the incoming surf, Jane breathing heavily, Anna supporting her.
"I like this," Jane said.
"My butt's pretty wet and there's sand in my crotch. I've been in better situations," Anna said.
"I mean being able to use my powers around you. It gives me hope for future activities."
"I told you, there's no pressure to do anything before you're ready. Emotionally or otherwise. I'm normally all for diving in head first, but after seeing that display… we'll give it some time."
"I want to take you on a date," Jane said.
"What?"
"A date. Like in your movies. Or we could go to the movies. We'll try the normal thing."
"Why would we ever do that?" Anna asked.
Jane shrugged in her hold. "Because I want to keep you."
Anna squealed and tackled Jane back into the sand, an ooof! sounding from the tired blonde below her. She giggled into Jane's charred clothing and hugged the girl until she could no longer feel circulation in her wrists.
"I'm tired," Jane said. "Can we go back inside now?"
"It's nowhere near your bedtime."
"That drained me."
"I guess I'll help you back if you ask me nicely."
"Please drag me by my braid back into the house before hermit crabs make a feast of my ankles."
"Well, when you put it that way," Anna said, yanking Jane up by her hands.
The evening petered out into night soon enough, and Jane fell asleep under a blanket in Anna's lap. Anna mashed the power button of the remote and tossed it to the end of the couch, mind abuzz with anticipation for her upcoming date with her girlfriend.
Hope yall didn't get choked on sugary overload. Would love to hear from you guys, comments and critiques appreciated. And thanks to all for the alerts and favs. Never in my wildest did I imagine Jane and A would garner 500 follows. So, thanks.
*Additionally* Who knows stuff about computers? Not I, said the fly. Who knows meteorological stuff about weather and lightning? Not me, said the flea. Sorry if I botched that up completely.
