Elsa is hunched over her favorite table, face mostly hidden by her hair. She can feel Anna's eyes on her back, but nothing else. Elsa doesn't say anything- Anna lurks in the doorway to the little coffee shop's little storeroom as if she thinks Elsa would send her away if she knew. But Elsa won't send her away; after all these years, to have someone here, watching her? So what that Anna doesn't seem to like her the same way, at least Elsa isn't alone right now.
Her hand moves over the paper and the charcoal smudges just so. The television drones on in the background. "...formation of a group known informally as the 'Plague Police,' to help the CDC enforce their new scope…" Elsa tries her best to ignore it. To ignore how close it sounds to the words that led to those horrible black numbers on her wrist. She's tried to get rid of them before, but they won't go. Same as those terrible scars. Elsa doesn't understand it; in the past, she's been able to do away with blemishes and scars- her magic was strong, when she still used it- but the marks of her time in Dachau refused to fade. Her hand twitches, and the charcoal leaves a mark that's just a little too dark for her taste. She sets it aside and works on blending in the too-heavy line.
"...stealing jobs from us good, living, Christian folk," President Wesselton is on the television now. Must be some kind of speech. "They had their time, why can't they have the decency to leave the world to their descendants like everyone else? They're…" Elsa scowls and tunes him out. She can feel Anna shifting uncomfortably.
"I won't bite," Elsa says quietly, but she can tell from the way she feels Anna's spine stiffen that her words were heard.
"Oh," Anna says. "Right. Um. Sorry? Mind if I join you?"
"Not terribly," Elsa replies nonchalantly though she wants nothing more right now. Anna clomps over and drops clumsily into the opposite chair.
"So," Anna says, and gestures to the television. "Looks like you were right."
"I'm trying not to listen," Elsa risks a glance at Anna's sunny face. The eyebrow just like so… she corrects a line.
"...would never rip apart a good Christian family, even if one of them is dead. Unclaimed…" Elsa's grip tightens, and the lump of charcoal cracks. She sets aside the smaller piece.
"Elsa," Anna gives a worried frown.
"Would you…" Elsa swallows necessarily, and thanks the stars she can't blush anymore. "Whatever it means to claim a corpse, legally that is, would you please?" She goes back to her paper and charcoal.
"Of course!" Anna says. "I'll take care of it today, right after work. I don't want to see you taken away."
"I don't think they necessarily would," Elsa says hopefully.
"Just in case," Anna beams. "Not your first rodeo." She regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth.
"Not my first rodeo," Elsa agrees. "It won't come to that."
"Good," Anna says. She thinks for a moment. "Why won't it?"
"Because the universe owes me a goddamn break," Elsa snarles. She composes herself quickly. "Sorry."
"You don't have to apologize all the time," Anna says. Elsa shrugs. "You like dancing?"
"Not really," Elsa makes sure not to look up, in case something in her face gives her away. "You always have to dance with someone, and it's never really been socially acceptable to dance with the people I want to dance with."
"Well," Anna huffs. "It is now, and anyway, screw other people. They suck. So, some friends and I are going out dancing tonight, and I was wondering…"
"I see," Elsa says. She can't let herself hope. Not after the last one, all those decades ago.
"Is that a yes?" Anna's heart flutters like a hummingbird's wings.
"Sure," Elsa says. The door chimes. She looks briefly up, but it's only Pabbie. "Your usual?" She asks.
"No," the old soldier hobbles over to her table. "This ain't the America I fought for," he says without preamble, and Elsa is shocked by the rage she hears in his voice. "Are you alright, Elsa?"
Elsa worries for his heart, the way it pounds with his anger. "As I've ever been," she replies.
"Look kiddo," he sits wearily at her table. "Oh, that's very nice."
"Thankyou," Elsa says, and tries to cover her drawing. Anna cranes her neck, and peers down at it.
"Oh my god Elsa," the redhead gasps, "that's incredible. That's freaking… goddamn. Is that me?" Elsa nods meekly.
"Our Elsa's always been gifted," Pabbie grins. You should've seen some of the sketches she did back in the war. Only thing left of some of those brave kids now. I almost envy them. Don't have to see what that toupee wearing freak has done to our country."
"Yeah," Anna smiles kindly at Elsa. "You're pretty incredible, you know that?"
Elsa shrugs awkwardly and goes back to her drawing. "It felt like the least I could do for them," she says. "It's been a while, but you were talking about hobbies and I got out my old supplies. So Pabbie, you don't want coffee, what brings you?"
"I can't just want to see my favorite litch?" The old man winks and Elsa shrugs. "Nah," Pabbie continues. "You're right. I came to give you something." He passes over a bundle of old beige rags. "I figured I won't be needing it anymore and my kids wouldn't appreciate it. They weren't there."
"What is it?" Elsa asks, as her slender fingers pick apart the wrappings. Dark, shiny steel and battered wood.
"Luger," the old man says. "Picked it up from, well, I'm sure you can guess. I know you've got your magic, but I don't know how well you can use it to defend yourself? I'd feel a lot better if I knew you had this."
"I don't like guns," Elsa wraps it again quickly.
"I don't either, but I think he's right. You could carry it," Anna says. "Better safe than sorry."
The steel seems to call to Elsa. The hint of murder, long ago. Lots of it. The gun had been used for terrible things…
"It made it through two world wars," Pabbie is saying. "An old gun for an old lady. Please, for me?" Elsa scowls, so Pabbie goes on. "I pulled you out of that ditch," he says, and something dark and cloudy comes over his eyes. "Everyone in my squad thought we should leave you, but I made sure you could come. I helped you get to America. I've never asked for anything in return. Do this for me, please, and I'll count us even."
Elsa's spine stiffens. She holds very still, and then slowly reaches out and takes the old gun. "Very well," she says. "For you."
"It's not loaded," Pabbie says. "How about you and I go to the range next weekend and I show you how to use it?"
"Fine," Elsa picks up her charcoal but her hand shakes- so much death in the old metal. So much. An idea comes to her, but Anna or Pabbie? Would either hate her for it? Would it really matter if they did? The door chimes again.
It's Kristoff, his burly arms full of paperwork. "Elsa," he says, and drops the bundle on the increasingly crowded table. Elsa scoots her chair back.
"Kristoff," she says.
"You watching the news?" The big man asks. Elsa shrugs, so he goes on. "You know proposition ninety-seven?" Elsa nods. "You want me to, uh 'claim' you?" He says the word "claim" like it's made of rat poison.
Elsa glances at Anna, glances at the stack of paperwork.
"Go ahead," Anna nods. "You've known Kristoff longer."
"Sure," Elsa says. "Thanks. I… thank you all. I just don't want anyone to." She stops for a second. "In Germany, a lovely couple hid me and my parents in their attic. They're dead now- not of old age. I don't want the same thing to happen to you all. I don't… Kristoff, Anna, thanks, but I'll be fine. Please don't…"
"You're being silly," Anna replies. "It won't come to that. We don't even know if that stupid proposition was meant like that, and the plague police might just be for… it might not be like you're thinking."
"And if it is," Kristoff growles, "we'll leave. Go to Canada or something. But that won't happen, and right now, we just want to make sure that legally, there's no reason for anyone to give you trouble."
"I," Elsa says. "Thank you all so much. I don't deserve people like you."
"You do," Anna insists.
"You deserve better'n us," Pabbie laughs. He stands slowly, and Elsa can feel his joints protesting. "I better go," he says. "Promised my grandson we would go get ice cream. I only really came in to give you that." He hobbles out the door, cane clicking rhythmically.
"Give you what?" Kristoff's eyes glitter with interest beneath his blonde brows.
"Nothing interesting," Elsa says. "Just an old trinket from the war."
"Oh," Kristoff replies. It doesn't sound like he wants to let it go but he does anyway. "I took the liberty of filling out the paperwork already. There wasn't much of it, and the proposition doesn't go into effect for a few days, but I wanted to be proactive. I'll take care of everything. You don't need to worry." He stands, and gathers up his papers. "I'll be in my office if you need me." He shoots a conspiratorial wink to Anna, and a gentle smile to Elsa.
Elsa scoots back in, and leans forward onto the table.
"So," Anna says. "We're going to need to get you some clothes that aren't all frumpy if you're coming dancing with us. Fortunately, we're about the same height so I can give you some of mine. Are you more a leather girl, or nylon?"
"No," Elsa smiles, and drops her head into her arms so that Anna can't see how hard she's trying not to laugh. "Neither, please. What about good old American cotton?"
"You mean like a t-shirt?" Anna scowls. "Oh no no no no."
"I mean like a good and proper blouse," Elsa replies, and tries very hard not to think about what she was wearing when she woke up next to Anna.
AN: short chapter, took forever to write, sounds about right. At least I'm not as bad on this story as one of my others… Anyway, reviews are story food, and I love them so much.
I write these chapters on my phone and ducking autocorrect keeps "fixing" words into the wrong tense. I noticed a few in previous chapters, and went back and fixed it, and I'm trying to pay better attention now. If you notice any that I've missed, I would be very grateful to know- I've always thought that fanfics with tense disagreement were lazy, so it's a little hypocritical for me to have a story with tense disagreements...