Anna sat up suddenly, and nervously scanned the room. It was hard to catch her breath, and the sweat on her chest and back gave her such a chill that she'd never be able to go back to sleep. She sighed and draped her robe, which didn't really help with the cold, around her shoulders, and shoved her feet into her fuzzy slippers.
She clutched her arms and tip-toed to the living room, where Honeymaren's team was sleeping, hoping to find Elsa awake to comfort her with her with a kind word and assurance that there was nothing to worry about. But Honeymaren, Elsa, and Ryder were all sleeping soundly, curled tightly into their sleeping bags in front of the fire.
Anna clutched her arms and listened carefully to the still air, panicking at every slight sound she heard, only continuing towards the kitchen once she determined the sound was harmless.
The fire that got lit before she went to bed was miraculously still roaring, and the temperature turned to something much more comfortable as soon as she crossed the threshold. Forgetting all apprehension at the comfort of warmth, she immediately filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, and she positioned herself in front of the stove to watch the spout pop open when the kettle sang. She needed to know that its whistle didn't come from cuckoo clock.
"Hmhmm," a deep voice came from behind her, along with the crinkle of a newspaper folding.
Anna turned, startled, her heart leaping out of her chest as she nearly backed into the stove. Then she relaxed as the the sheriff took hold of her hand.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd be so jumpy," he said with just a hint of judgement. His eyes were friendlier, though, and more concerned than the last time she'd seen them, which was to say, just barely.
He sat her down, heart rate still falling, and the chills took over from being so far from the fire. Then he took the kettle off just as it was about to sing.
He stirred in a spoonful of instant coffee and set it on the table in front of her. It was strong and bitter, and Anna struggled to get it down, but it filled her belly with more warmth and comfort than anything or anyone since arriving at her family's dilapidated estate.
"You don't remember me, do you?" he asked as he sat down at the table in front of her.
He stretched his legs out as much as they could go before hitting his knee on the center bar, a slight tuck to his lips the only indication of his discomfort. He crossed his arms and wait for her answer, but she didn't know what to say.
"I'm Bulda's son."
Anna searched her memories. "My… nanny?"
She pushed her hair behind her ears and found her way to his eyes. There was no jest there, no bullshit.
He nodded his head, and looked down at his coffee mug. She couldn't tell if his cheeks were red from embarrassment or the warm drink set against the cold exterior.
She tilted her head to consider him. "I do remember you."
He lifted his eyebrows and scanned her face as if to discern whether she was just saying that.
"Christopher, right?"
"Kristoff," he said, sounding a little offended, though not disappointed.
"I'm sorry," she said, her face contorting in tension. "I don't really remember that much from back then."
His expression softened and he took a sip. After a loud gulp, he shrugged his shoulders. "Probably for the best."
"What do you mean? Why?" She leaned forward, eager to know what he knew.
He shifted his eyes and his legs away from her, and wiped at his nose. "Well, you were so young," he said apologetically, then in a more judgemental tone, he added, "And bratty."
"What?" she asked indignantly, and pointed her finger in the air at him.
"Well, you haven't changed much," he said casually, and leaned back before taking another sip.
She frowned, but only so he wouldn't know how funny he was, then she changed the subject in an attempt to lighten the mood. "So, how's Bulda?"
"Passed away," he said flatly, then took another sip.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she said in horror, and covered his hand with hers.
He jerked his hand back, and said, "Yeah, well, it was a long time ago." Then he looked away and folded his arms again.
Anna winced at his pain, and a dark thought gnawed at her belly. She stared at his unflinching face, searching for some clue to understand him better.
"So, then you believe me?" she asked after several moments of uncomfortable silence. She had as good of a chance of him not believing her as believing.
He roughed up his hair and sighed into hands, covering his whole face. "I was there, Anna," he said impatiently.
Anna's face hurt from confusion, not knowing which muscles to contract because they didn't know which feeling to reflect. Then she froze, and more chills crept up her spine all the way to her cheeks when she realized that her parents were also killed 'a long time ago.'
Kristoff brushed his hair back again, and sighed disapprovingly, "I'm guessing fancy douche bag lawyer doesn't believe you."
Anna laughed nervously and brushed her hair behind her ears. She rolled her eyes to the side before eking out, "Hans? I mean… not exactly?" She shook her head, not even daring to make eye contact with him.
"Figures," he said defensively. "You two…?" he asked, and waved a hand side to side to complete the thought.
Anna wished she could say 'no,' to avoid his censure, but the most she could muster was a small and quick flash of her eyes to see how observant he was.
He chuffed sardonically and backtracked with, "Never mind. It's none of my business."
He thumbed his nose and shook the paper, then took a long sip of his coffee, while Anna extended her arm across the length of the table and rested her head on top of it. She eyed the shotgun that leaned against the table next to him, comforted that it would only take a couple of seconds for it to be resting against his shoulder while he looked down the barrel with one eye open. Then she watched his eyes weave across the page, and let her eyelids fall to the surprising melody of his slow sips and soothing "aaahs."
She woke up to a loud chime from the foyer, and a large jacket dropped from her shoulders to the ground. Kristoff, and his gun, moved swiftly to the entry to the kitchen.
He waved a hand, and whispered loudly, "Behind me!"
Anna picked his jacket off the ground and shoved her hands into the way too long sleeves, and lined up behind him. They toured the entire front part of the house until he was satisfied they were alone.
She stood speechless and stared in admiration when he turned to her. He opened his mouth to say something when she blurted out, "Hans is my ex."
His face relaxed into the beginnings of a smile, and Anna cleared her through to clarify, "Ex-husband."
Kristoff strung the gun up over his shoulder and folded his arms. Then he squinted, and asked with a shoulder shrug, "Does he know that?"
Unable to tell if he was teasing her, Anna giggled uncomfortably and shrugged a strand behind her ear, which burned despite the cold.
Then he stretched his long sleeves as close to his wrists as they could go, and adjusted his jacket around her shoulders so it covered more of her. His hands lingered on the faux shearling collar until Ryder plodded into the room.
Kristoff backed away quickly before Ryder could finish his yawn to ask, "What's up?"
Anna took another look at Kristoff, who looked everywhere but at her, and she nuzzled into the soft and fuzzy jacket collar, still warm from his closeness. Her lips curled up at his fluster, happy for some relief from the chilly silence that would turn to deafening terror at any second.
Then the cuckoo clock chimed and the fire extinguished as a cute snowman popped out on its track and danced in a clockwise circle, giggling maniacally.
Anna scrunched her eyes shut and ducked her head beneath the folds of Kristoff's jacket, not opening them until the strong arms suddenly braced around her upper back smoothed out the shivers from fear. She relaxed when Kristoff told her, "It's ok, he's gone now. We can just relight the fire."
Anna came to her senses and backed away from Kristoff. "He's going to come back, though. And next time he might do more than put out the fire."
"And we'll be ready for him," said Honeymaren as she and Elsa entered the room.
"Ok, we've got six hours til the next chime," Honeymaren reminded them as she quickly flipped her pocket watch open and shut. "Let's get moving!"
Kristoff looked at Anna, unflinching and earnest, over his shoulder as he relit the logs in the fireplace. And she trusted his silent promise that this time would be different.