~19~

Now

Elsa turned off her cell phone as she entered Casey's hospital.

She hated hospitals. The smell of them, so antiseptic, so bloodless and malevolent. A strange cross-section of society congregated within these walls; the doctors looked upon as gods, the nurses looked upon as angels, and the patients looked upon as projects, like a household renovation, perhaps. Renee once told her that she sometimes had to think of people with such a small and detached mind; caring too much for them, losing them again and again, could ruin her.

Elsa understood. After all, didn't Anna die every night, and wasn't the castle of Elsa's soul a ruination now, pitted by time and weather and despair?

Those were the mortals, but there were also immortals in these halls. Disease and death lived here as well, lurking in the shadows, those slim spaces between the gasping of pain, floating in narcotic bliss along the veins. In a moment of weakness, death would snatch up a person and drag him into the unseen world.

What a symphony of sounds to further cheapen these souls, this relentless beeping of machines, this hissing of ventilators, this shallow breathing of patients; this was an orchestra doomed to die before the recital was truly over.

Gerda looked exhausted; for the first half hour of Elsa's visit she had remained awake, trying to put on a brave little toaster kind of face. Finally she dozed off in the corner, in one of those horrific chairs sated with this bloodless malevolence. On the table in front of her was a crossword puzzle, unfinished. Elsa looked at the Director of the Patten Free Library of Bath and was grateful to see her face soften in this sleep, the face that looked remarkably young for all the cares of the past years. Her clothes bore the imprint of being often worn overnight.

"You know, I kinda like it when she is sleeping," Casey murmured from her bed.

Elsa turned to look at her. It had been only a few days since she had been here last, but Casey looked even worse than before.

"Why is that?" Elsa asked, shifting in her chair so her attention was solely on the dying little girl in front of her, wishing she could close her nose to the smell.

"Most thirteen year old girls have a heck of a lot more privacy than me," Casey said. "If I even cough, she goes ballistic. It's only when she's sleeping that I can pretend that life is normal."

"You have a pretty broad definition of normal, my girl," Elsa joked, knowing that Casey liked people to laugh around her, to make jokes and poke fun and yes, even tease, because those were all normal things people did with other normal people.

"You mean most girls don't have a central line coming out of their chests?" Casey asked proudly.

"I think all the Borg girls do, you know, the ones from Star Trek?"

"That's not really my generation, Elsa."

"Okay, smarty pants. How about Star Wars?"

"Nope."

"Buffy the Vampire Slayer?"

"Getting warmer."

"Hello Kitty."

Casey laughed out loud, which did turn into a bout of coughing, at which Gerda's eyes flew open. Before the woman could ask anything and fly out of her chair in unneeded assistance, Casey said quickly, "Just laughing, mom. Go back to sleep."

"Laughing is good," Gerda murmured before she did settle down deeper into the vastly uncomfortable chair.

Casey looked back at Elsa. "Thanks for making me laugh."

"Anything for you, kid."

"Do you mean that?" Casey instantly responded, her eyes suddenly very present and bright; no longer dulled by pain or narcotics, her eyes were like the glassy slicked surface of an iced pond in late winter. "Really mean it?" she repeated.

There was a brief aha moment in Elsa's mind. This, whatever it was, was the reason Casey had begged for Elsa to come visit her today.

Elsa knew exactly what to do. After all, knowledge was just a weapon of the unseen world, though a little dull with time.

She held out her only pinkie finger. Casey swiftly crooked the pinkie finger of the non-intubated hand and solemnly shook Elsa's hand with it.

"Did I just sell you my soul?" Elsa asked when she had her right hand back.

Casey glanced over Elsa's shoulder, but Elsa didn't turn around. It was obvious that Casey was checking to make sure that Gerda was still asleep and blissfully unaware. What sort of teenage tomfoolery had Elsa just agreed to get into? Magazines, perhaps, that her mom wouldn't buy for her?

For her reply, Casey reached under her pillow to pull out a sealed letter that had Elsa's name on it. "I can't talk about it here," Casey said quietly. "You just promised to read this letter after you leave here, and to trust me."

"Did I now?" Elsa asked, relieving a bit of the seriousness of the moment even as she folded the letter and put it in her purse. She was already burning with curiosity at its contents.

"You also just agreed to answer my question," Casey continued.

"So I did. What is this question that needed pinkie swearing to be asked?"

Again from underneath her pillow, surely the only place in a hospital that a thirteen year old girl who ached to have breasts and to be kissed could keep her beautiful little secrets, Casey withdrew a much read book. Elsa actually blushed when she saw it.

"That's a little old for you, don't you think?" Elsa asked as Casey placed The Ledger in her lap. "I can't imagine Gerda approving a book like that for you."

"Certainly not," Casey huffed. "I got nearly as much joy out of my hooliganism to procure the book as I did reading it."

Elsa's heart burned to hear this little girl, just thirteen, use such impressive words as procure and hooliganism. How many books had she read here, living the lives of the characters because of the damnation of her own? Did she sail upon the open seas with the sting of salt water in her face? Did she cross the burning sands of the Sahara upon the swaying back of a camel? Did she dance under a starlit sky, to the crooning of jazz and the singing of the crickets?

She had certainly been kissed, and more than kissed, if she had read this book.

"Did you realize it took me a good week to map out my perfect plan?" Casey was continuing. "And then Anna of all people just popped in one day to give it to me, as if she knew I needed it. All my work for nothing." She huffed then, convincingly, like the wolf to blow down the house made of straw.

A wolf with a central line coming from his chest, of course.

Elsa was already frozen by the words, though she kept her face clear. Anna popped in? When on earth did Anna pop in, and how did Elsa not know?

She was not surprised that Anna somehow knew what Casey needed. Her intuition was beyond legendary.

"So what's this question?" Elsa asked, her tongue a clay monster.

"Why doesn't the book have a happy ending?"

Elsa remembered finding her father, slumped against the base of a tree. His lower jaw wasn't there anymore, and one of his eyes was half open. The blood reeked and drew insects.

Forgive yourself, alanna. Always forgive yourself.

"I was going through a really hard time when I wrote this book," Elsa admitted, and it was almost hard to tell the truth, now that she was so very good at lying. "My dad had just killed himself, my family farm was falling apart, and it seemed that there was never going to be a happy ending for me. Writing is my cure, Casey, the way I help myself heal. I needed to write The Ledger, and I needed it to end badly because then I could at least hope that my life would turn out better. If I had written happiness and never found it for myself, I would have been a hypocrite."

Casey, only thirteen. Soon her curly blonde hair would fall out again due to the chemo, if she was allowed to last that long. Her kidneys would kill her first. By now she was so weak and compromised that, even if they found a donor, a perfect match, she may not survive the surgery.

"Is that why you were so mad at God?" Casey asked.

"Yes."

"Are you still mad at him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Elsa's insides trembled, and she tried to jokingly ask, "Are you sure one pinkie swear covers all these questions?"

"In the world according to Casey, it does," the girl replied. Then she rested against her pillow, grimacing in sudden pain and clutching at her side. Elsa sat up straighter, alarmed.

"What do you need?" Elsa asked, about to get out of her chair and call the nurse, but Casey waved her back down, those bright and glassy eyes too ancient and wise to belong in her little body. Such depth to them, now, bought at too high a price. She should have been at the mall with her BFF's, giggling and sighing over the boys, burning a hole in daddy's wallet. She should have been agonizing over exams, and what to wear on movie night. She should have been padding her bra with tissue paper.

She should have been anywhere but here.

"Did you know that my dad left my mom last week?" Casey said quietly, her voice trembling on the words that just sliced open her mouth.

Glowing rage coursed through Elsa's system, and she grit her jaw even as her heart cried out for the girl. "Life kinda sucks for you, doesn't it?" Elsa finally said without tears. She had learned not to cry.

Casey patted the cover of the book. "I'm not going to get my happy ending, either, Elsa," she said. "And that's the only reason that this book gives me hope and strength. To think that someone else felt just like this, just the way I do, makes me feel like I'm not alone."

There was a sudden and strident wail from the IV machine, alerting the nursing station that this bag of treatment was over. Gerda instantly jerked awake, rubbing her eyes. Casey swiftly slid the book under the covers. "Read the letter, and trust me," she hissed as both her mom and a nurse converged on her.

A few minutes later, Gerda escorted Elsa from the hospital, exiting the nearest doors so they could walk on the grass. Elsa had no idea what to say. Kai, her husband, her companion of many years, leaving Gerda now? Now, when Casey languished in the hospital, prey of disease and death that stalked her like hunters?

"Anna stayed home?" Gerda asked as they got to the parking lot.

"Yes," Elsa replied. "Someone had to stay at the inn."

"Because Haley is out in the Midwest, right?" Gerda asked. "Checking out a cool haunting? Make sure she tells me about it when she gets home."

By this time, they had arrived at Elsa's car, and Gerda hung back slightly. Elsa was almost glad there was no time for her to mention her sorrow at Kai's betrayal. Sometimes words were useless.

She hugged the woman, and there was a strange sight in the corner of her eye, and then Gerda quickly retreated back to the hospital, alone now, where her the lone fruit of her womb was all tangled up in dying. It was only after she had turned on her phone and started driving away that Elsa focused on that strange sight, tried to recall in her memory what had just seemed out of place. She almost had it, the connection on the tip of her clay tongue, when her phone rang.

After her short conversation with Kristoff, Elsa stomped on the gas pedal, forgetting the pinky pact with Casey, forgetting the letter in her pocket, aware of nothing except fear for Anna's very life. Renee's hands were coated in Anna's blood as she stitched and stitched. How fast could she make it home?

She never realized that Gerda cast no reflection on the car window pane.

...

Then

It was another blazing hot summer day about a month later, and Anna was on her hands and knees in the kitchen, illustriously mopping the floor, her face shiny with sweat and stamped with what seemed to be a permanent grin. Her mind was whirling and

yes

even a little scared, seeing that Elsa was about to walk through her door, with both Kristoff and Renee as their company. Sunlight glinted in huge shapes on the floor, and suddenly Anna was struck with remembrance; a similar moment nearly 365 days ago, in a town and a frame of mind that were now light years away. She sat back on her heels with her sponge in her hand and looked at her home.

Bunches of herbs were hung up in the kitchen, and every month Anna added to the army of neat pots and pans and kitchen utensils that also hung there. There was tasteful and cheap art in the living room, next to the too-comfy sofa where she and Elsa had spent many an hour snuggling.

She had thought she was ready for everything that Elsa had to offer, especially considering her own feelings for the girl who had stormed her heart, so she was surprised when some residual fear remained; some terror still locked in that memory of adamant and salted earth.

So they moved slowly, a delicious slowness, like the sort Elsa liked to use when feeding her raspberries. They kept their separate bedrooms, and both doors to those rooms were wide open. Elsa's room faced the evening light, so the space was awash in colour. Not long after moving in, Elsa had asked if she could write on the walls. Anna had been intrigued by the idea, and the landlord gave his permission, saying there was no colour that had not yet been splashed on those walls over the ought-something years the house had existed.

So they had painted the wall a creamy lemon meringue sort of colour, shielded the windows with thin curtains of mint green, and Elsa came home from the arts store with a whole bag of different coloured markers. There wasn't a ton of stuff written on the walls yet, but Anna could imagine how beautiful those walls would be, marked with such delicate and wondrous thoughts.

That Elsa felt safe enough here to share those thoughts was something that astounded her.

Anna shook herself of her inner maundering, sparing one last moment of soft contemplation for the events of the past year. She had never known, never imagined, even, that it could be quite this good. That each day she would want nothing more than to spend it in Elsa's company, in Elsa's space, not even having to touch her to be affected by her. Sometimes Elsa worked on her writing while Anna was nearby; Anna could almost see the magic in the air, those legions of words that came and went at Elsa's command, those worlds that populated themselves, living and breathing and loving and kissing.

Oh the kissing!

Smiling, Anna finished mopping the floor, and took a quick shower while the floor dried. Clean and cool for the moment, Anna tidied the already pristine house before wading back into the kitchen. It would be barbecue tonight, a good ole Southern barbecue, and Haley had managed to get her grandma to share the recipe for her Tequila Sunrise Chicken. Roasted ears of corn, potato salad and gherkins, Anna had actually agonized over the menu plan for a good week before Elsa reminded her that Kristoff would eat anything that didn't move. And even a few things that did.

Before long, all her guests had arrived and the house exploded with food and fun. Anna quickly lost her nervousness at meeting Elsa's brother and his girlfriend; Kristoff was a quick-witted and solid sort of person, and the minute she met him she understood what Elsa had always meant: he was still. The whole evening, which started with eating too much food, and then descended rather quickly into card playing frivolities, with Haley winning more hands than anyone had ever expected, seemed to be centered by him and his quiet acceptance of Elsa's choice.

Anna found herself looking at him, and Elsa, in an even deeper light as he and Renee finally left, on the far side of midnight with leftover corn and chicken and potatoes. No wonder Renee, as exotic and beautiful as anyone Anna had ever seen, was devotedly attached to him.

No one spoke of the circumstances that brought them all together again, because Elsa wore those circumstances in plain sight, in the raised scars of her throat and the abyss of fingers on her left hand.

Haley had leered rather wickedly as she left, and Anna shooed her off the porch before Elsa could notice.

Back inside, Elsa was already turning on the taps to start doing dishes. Anna came back in and scowled at her. "I'm pretty sure those can wait until morning."

"I don't mind doing them," Elsa said.

"And I'm pretty sure they go as gaga for your touch as I do, but doing dishes after midnight? Isn't that like something from a horror movie? What if a gremlin came over right now and plopped himself into your water? You'd be a little hooped, wouldn't you? Then the kitchen would be full of disgusting little gremlins who would find all the kitchen knives and start singing 'New York New York'."

Elsa's mouth had turned to a bigger and bigger grin as Anna spoke and she finally laughed out loud. "Sweetie, I absolutely love your mind. If I'm not careful, I'm going to end up putting whole conversations of ours in my book."

"As long as I'm suave while I say them, then I don't mind," Anna replied, sidling up to Elsa and turning off the taps. Elsa stepped back to hand her a kitchen towel, and Anna dried her hands, looking at the person who had come into her life like a comet, no, a new sun, with brightness and warmth to give her life. Even the love-hungry moths batted against the screen of the kitchen window, desperate to get at Elsa's light and warmth. Happy and mischievous darkness pressed against those same windows, greedy to taste all that unfolded within.

"What are you thinking about?" Elsa asked.

"You, not surprisingly," Anna replied. "I swear, all those Elsa-thoughts are breeding like rabbits."

Elsa lifted an eyebrow and Anna blushed, somewhat mortified at what she had just said. "You know," Elsa said conversationally, her words weighted with the delicious intent she used to walk toward her, "I'm somewhat amazed at the beauty of your thoughts, and your openness in sharing them. Makes me kinda want to be like you. Makes me adore you even more."

Surely no one in the world had ever felt such an explosion of hope and joy inside them as Anna did just then. How could they? There was only one Elsa, and Anna was her only love.

Anna wrapped her arm around Elsa's waist, pulling her close, drawing her into a warm and shiny kiss. This beautiful exploration, a most glorious mapping of touch and terrain, quickly drew her into warmer, hotter chasms, some soft and dark place that had not yet been discovered.

Kissing Elsa again and again, Anna knew she wanted to make those discoveries, now more than ever, now that Kristoff had smiled upon them, and Renee had blessed them, now that velvet darkness protected them from the outside world, these precious and soul-baring moments after midnight. Surely this time was the most sacred, the most protected, a womb for tender lovers.

It was as she was slipping her hand under the hem of Elsa's shirt, and daring to slide her other hand just slightly under the plastic waistband of Elsa's silk shorts, that Elsa smiled into their kiss, breaking apart just slightly to ask, "Uh, honey? What are you doing?"

"I thought that was obvious," Anna replied, using the opportunity to graze the underside of Elsa's chin with firebrand kisses, her dimly adventurous hands pressing Elsa even tighter against her.

"Are you ready for this?" Elsa asked, and in the spaces of her words Anna could remember the last time they had gotten so close, so close to sharing what was at the core of them, and the last wave of fear that had tumbled over her. She had wept then, but still did not share with Elsa that adamant and salted secret.

"God, I hope so, because I certainly can't stand waiting any longer," Anna breathed.

Elsa's eyes had gone dark, and she wet her lips with her tongue.

Then Elsa turned off the kitchen light, and the house was dipped into chocolate darkness, where spare swatches of light from the street lamps filtered unevenly through the windows. It was a most fantastic darkness, for she found that Elsa's skin was edged in silvery light, soft skin caressed by those love-hungry moths. Just enough light, this other side of midnight, to make the world a magical place.

And by some miracle, some glory, it was Elsa's left hand, her soul-affirming and sundered left hand that led Anna to the inner sanctum of Elsa's world, a shade dimmer here, for thin curtains of mint green were guarding the secrets written on the walls, each word precious insight into Elsa's mind, a tangible reminder of the womanly presence that was rapidly becoming the most wondrous thing of all of Anna's life; surely no childhood imaginings, nor the spare fantasies of teenage nights, could have hinted at the glory of this, this love that could be both whirlwind and ocean, both thriving on emotion and deeply still under the light of a pregnant moon.

Elsa, bathed in this dim light like celestial milk, her smile low and inviting, her hands warm and deeply precious, hanging back, just slightly, just enough for Anna to know that she could take this as slowly as she needed.

There was no way that Elsa could be oblivious to the electrical current building inside her, the beating of her heart that grew thicker and deeper with every passing moment. The breath that grew more shallow and expectant. The growing realization that Anna wanted nothing more than to brand Elsa with her touch, to consume her even as she would be consumed, to light kisses of fire on her skin and douse them with her tongue alone.

Arousal was not strong enough a word to describe the depth of Anna's need. She doubted there had been a word invented to describe it, for it was not merely desire for a maddened frenzy, of ripped clothing and hard breasts and long planes of skin; it was a black hole of love, that most aching and painful kind of love that bared the soul wide open to the consuming of all else. Though she desired her, wanted her, needed her, Anna knew she needed to feel the same passion in return, to feel that she was also the center of Elsa's world, that the universe and everyone in it could pass away in oblivion and she wouldn't care, not as long as she and Elsa were together.

Elsa had lain herself down on the top of her bed; the hem of her shirt had lifted slightly when she did so. There was creamy skin there, and upon it Elsa had placed her left hand.

And with her right, she beckoned. "Come to me, Anna," she breathed.

Anna knew in that moment that Elsa needed her as well, needed Anna to reciprocate and prove that this was a joining, not a taking.

Anna knew the fire in her breast, knew that she wanted to be the only one who would ever touch Elsa again. No other hand could caress her, no other mouth could kiss her, no other tongue could discover the softness of skin below her ear.

Heart quivering, soul expanding, a brightness in her heart to rival the birth of suns, Anna went to her.

She started by sitting on the edge of Elsa's bed; with her hands on either side of her, she descended to kiss Elsa's lips. Warm and firm lips, just a contact of lips and no more, and it wasn't enough, no, so Anna used her strong arms to lift Elsa up to her, cradling Elsa in her lap, kissing and kissing and kissing again, her hands strong under the sinuous line of Elsa's back.

Between one breath and the next, her hand slipped under Elsa's shirt, and Elsa opened her mouth in a downy gasp of pure intention and hope. Anna slipped her tongue into the warm confines of Elsa's mouth, delighting in every sensation that was raging through her, from the smooth skin under her fingers to the majesty of Elsa's mouth, to the insistent ball of desire that grew and grew with every passing moment. She wanted nothing but this knowledge, so when Elsa pulled her down, until Anna was on top of her, Anna's entire being was suffused with learning, of every contour of Elsa's skin, conveyed purely, flesh to flesh.

And then Elsa moved her hips.

And Anna's whole world shifted, and a guttural gasp erupted from her lips, not really words, words were useless now; it was a plea, an invitation, a warning that things were about to change, become hotter, wetter

faster!

Elsa rocked her hips again, a slow, maddening circle. Anna was propped on her elbows above her, that milky moonlight and streetlight bathing them both, and Elsa's hands were firm on her lower back. trapping her in that encircling motion of hips. That beloved sensation, of the muted hand, those two fingers and thumb that caressed her, drawing lines of fire across her skin before sliding upward, upward, gathering the fabric of Anna's top.

A pause, there, on the heights of Anna's back, Elsa's eyes darkened and endearing, and she was asking a question with those eyes, those moonflower eyes, a question that would separate forever this moment, this final before and after.

Words were useless. Anna used her mouth to answer, by descending upon Elsa with intention, with desire, with that moonflowering and blossoming hope, kissing her soft, and then firm, and then hard.

Grasping the sheets of Elsa's bed with her hard, strong hands, raising up on her elbows, Anna allowed Elsa to continue tugging her shirt, higher, higher, catching momentarily on her breasts before Anna lifted her hands, allowing the garment to slough off and away, into some corner of this knowing darkness after midnight.

There was no hesitation as Elsa looked on her breasts for the first time. Elsa's eyes instantly changed, rocked with pure joy, pure hunger, and the depth of it saved Anna's soul. There was wonder there, and though the movement started tentative, soon Elsa had propped herself slightly on her right arm, using her left, oh her beloved left hand to touch Anna, just there. Anna's flesh instantly convulsed in a delicious chill as Elsa touched her, her three fingers drawing across the lush curve.

Flashing her eyes once, twice, at Anna, always checking to make sure this was okay, Elsa lifted herself higher, until Anna, bare-breasted, was sitting on her lap. Elsa's hands wrapped around her back, holding her as she tilted Anna even further back, until that dim splash of light was on the shining plane of her skin, the back that arched, the throat open, the hardened nipples of her breasts standing to attention in the sultry summer heat.

Then her mouth descended, and there was yet another warm and wet explosion in the core of her, as Elsa's mouth encircled her left breast, suckling there, teasing the tip of it, and Anna couldn't breathe, nor could she think, nor could she begin to interpret anything other than the deepest, most important sensations. Her mouth wide open to the ceiling, shallow breathing in rapturous delight, Anna felt Elsa's lips on her and wondered why she had to suffer so much and wait so long and be so deaf and blind to the thunderous beauty that awaited her, galvanized by the knowledge that she wanted to impart every sense of this to her lover, oh Elsa her lover now, and the most glorious and enchanting woman she had ever had the grace to meet.

More skin. Now.

Anna's fumbling fingers found the hem of Elsa's shirt; when her lover realized Anna's intent, she let go of Anna's breast, just long enough for Anna to pull Elsa's shirt up and away. Anna didn't have very long to memorize the new landscape in front of her; she was pulled into Elsa's arms with surprising force.

Skin on skin for the first time, skin slicked with sweat and desire, and into Elsa's mouth Anna crawled, diving deeper, seeking that route to Elsa's heart, that place where she could reside forever. Her muscles felt afire and liquid at the same time, pulsing with sensations too numerous to place; a sensory overload, especially now that Elsa's hands were tangled in her hair, pressing their mouths even tighter together. She nearly pounced on Elsa with a ferocity that would have been dangerous had Elsa not been echoing it in every regard.

The need to brand her was never so fierce, the need to submit to her, the need to have skin, more skin, and now! Running her own hands over Elsa's shoulders, so slim they were, bowed under the weight of too many cares, Anna pulled, until she was lying on her back and Elsa was on top of her. Elsa's eyes were flashing, relaying her own want and need that further propelled Anna's own heart. She had never seen so deeply inside someone else, seen her own soul in the mirror of another's eyes.

Before she was really aware of what she was doing, her fingers tugged at the elastic waistband of Elsa's shorts. In only another moment, Elsa had pulled them off and away; she grasped Anna's shorts and looked again into Anna's eyes before finding there what Anna so wanted her to see: yes, oh God, yes!

Elsa smiled as she drew the shorts away, and when their bodies came together again, there was nothing at all between them. Just skin, this star-kissed and luscious and slick skin, bathed with milky light. This hard thigh, firm at the core of her. These hips, and the rhythm building between them, all contact viscous with their want, their need.

Building, ever building.

Elsa's eyes nearly rolled away, dark and back with the urgency that grew, but Anna lifted her hands, to cup Elsa's face she lifted her hands, and asked, "Stay with me, Elsa, please."

And Elsa looked at her, and engulfed her mouth again even as their hips slickly rose and fell, and the most delicious dark chasm awaited, just there, beyond her sight, a place she had never reached before with any lover. Needing Elsa to be there with her, to share this moment that would rebirth them, she broke the kiss, still holding Elsa's face.

She knew, oh she knew! Elsa's eyes, dark and present, fierce with the need that rocked them, melting under the fire of Anna's passion, her own desires just as imminent, her own love cascading from her eyes because love needed more than words, it needed this as well, this fiery slickness, this pressure that built and built, this dark and wet oblivion that would rewrite their lives.

And Elsa smiled, and ground to a torturous halt.

Utter stillness, for two quickened heartbeats.

Anna's body exploded, and she fell into her orgasm with a long, drawn-out gasp, pulled like liquid honey through the air, and as her hips bucked in joy against Elsa's, she could feel Elsa's own body spasm in this most blessed release.

Higher brain function was nearly non-existent, and Anna barely comprehended Elsa's last words before her consciousness slid into the final depths of that precious darkness after midnight.

"I love you, Anna."