I don't own Frozen.
So, how sexy is it that Jane not only owns a jet, but can fly the thing?
They touched down at an airstrip upstate just as the sun was setting, Jane nodding conspiratorially with a young man as the jet taxied into a large, unmarked hanger. The kid had ears the size of kites and a nose to rival Pinocchio on a dishonest day.
"Jet," he said.
"Hi Dennis, can you get the keys to the Jag? I see your brothers are here and I'd rather avoid them," Jane replied.
"Yeah, I got it. Who's this?"
"A friend."
"I didn't know you had friends."
"I didn't know you liked impertinent statements. Grab me the key or I'll take back the Cessna."
"I'm going, chill out."
The boy with a yellow trucker hat dashed into a nearby quonset hut, emerging moments later to jeers and crows from a slew of male voices.
"Get outta here, Dumbo!"
"Like you're ever gonna get in the air without passing those tests."
"Idiot."
Dumbo… Dennis ambled back to Jane and thrust a pair of keys into her hands. Anna would not have paired them as likely friends. But then again, most things Jane did Anna could not anticipate.
Why start trying now?
"Here."
"Thanks. Can you refuel and prep her for a trans-Atlantic?"
"Yeah," Dennis sighed.
"Have you reviewed those simulations I sent you?" Jane asked.
"Twice. I spin out once the system stalls every time."
"Review the third text book, page…" Jane shut her eyes, and Anna watched as her fingers fell, wiggling, like convulsing spider legs. "394. That should tell you what to do."
"Thanks, Jet."
"Yes. We'll return in… two days? Probably a late flight, so we can get acclimated to the time change. I'll text you details."
"Sure, sure. Catch you later."
Anna followed Jane to the hanger where they'd taken the jet, shocked to see three sports cars and one Suzuki slingshot lined and primed for driving.
"I thought you said you spent your money on technology!" Anna gasped. "Additionally… 'Jet'?"
"I never told him my name... and transportation is a form of technology," Jane grinned. "And, well, streaming speed is only one type of speed."
"Ohmygod get in, I want to go fast! I like fast."
"As you wish."
"Can I call you Westley now?"
"Only if I can call you Buttercup."
Finally! She's gotten into the flirting. Wait, she is flirting, right? Or maybe that's the only name she can remember from that movie. WHY IS THIS SO CONFUSING SHE HAS A PORSCHE HOLY—
"A, get in the car."
"Yes mam!"
They made excellent time. Jane had maneuvered over the interstate in the Jaguar with the same grace that she used when climbing buildings. She was rarely pulled over: speed radars never seemed to work as her Ferrari or motorcycle whizzed by, traffic cams turned snowy, and, what's worse, police cars simply stalled and their blue lights puttered out, leaving Jane to race away upwards of a hundred miles an hour. Anna couldn't wait to get her on the Autobahn.
I wouldn't mind testing her speed in more intimate areas. Daredevilry indeed.
Once they infiltrated the city limits, she returned to the speed of a normal New York driver, which still meant a good ten miles over the set limit. She darted along the gridded Manhattan Island streets.
"What do you want for dinner?"
"I don't care," Jane remarked.
"You don't seem to have favorite anythings," Anna said.
"No. I'm rather bland that way."
"Easily pleased?"
"Easily disappointed."
How their conversations went from weightless to heavy, light to dark, teasing to accusing, Anna never knew. It happened more often than it should in a friendship, from what Anna had seen in the movies. And she had seen a lot of movies.
She supposed they would get better with time.
Jane walked past an ATM and a handful of fifties gushed into her palm. Anna skipped along beside her, bundled against the lingering chill of a stubborn Northeastern winter. March in Louisiana and a break on St. John had spoiled her; her nose turned pink in the cold and sloshy, muddy puddles attacked her ankles. The pair dived into a Chinese place and shared fried cheese wantons and sweet and sour sauce, Jane sticking with sautéed vegetables while Anna gobbled up Moo Shu pork.
"Well, what does it say?" Jane asked her.
Anna's cookie had cracked before she opened the wrapping, a fissure running the length of the Pacman-shaped treat.
"Enjoy the meal, buy one to go, too!"
"I rarely eat Chinese, but even I know that is shameless self promotion," Jane quipped.
"What about yours?"
"Some drivel about punctuality being the 'politeness of kings'. The ancient dynasties would likely cringe to see their wisdoms so bastardized."
"Talk about me taking things personally. If you weren't so criminal, I'd accuse you of nobility."
"There can be honor in stealing," Jane said.
"Robin Hood!" Anna grinned. Then more seriously: "Or maybe mentoring someone? Dumbo— I mean, Dennis?"
"It's a quid pro quo, nothing more. He's young enough not to ask any questions. Wants to be a pilot, but his family leaves him to do ground maintenance. He takes care of my jet, I reward him with lessons."
"You're tutoring him," Anna smiled.
"I'm exchanging goods for a provided service."
"Don't sound so detached. You like helping him."
"And you like pushing the issue. Can we be off now?"
"By all means…"
And by off, Jane meant into the night. Anna kept her mouth shut, though it was proving difficult, especially when Jane snuck them through the maintenance door to a skyscraper surpassing fifty floors at least. They were on an elevator and climbing, climbing, Anna impatiently tapping her foot as the car bypassed floor after floor of offices.
"Do you live in an office building?"
"Yes," Jane said.
"Why?"
"It was available?"
"Because homes are… unavailable?"
"Have you seen the available Manhattan real estate? Too many people want it, too detectable. And you live in a warehouse. Shut up."
"Not all the time!"
The elevator paused and Jane huffed, leaping two feet in the air and swinging the ceiling escape hatch open. Anna watched, dumbfounded, as Jane jack-knifed her lower body upwards like some lemur-squirrel hybrid. She was through the hatch and staring down at Anna before the red-head could fully rationalize the contortions of her body.
"Come."
"I can't get through there!"
"Sure you can, I'll help."
Jane extended a gloved hand, and wrenched Anna skywards with the upper body strength of an oil rig worker. Anna was sprawled on the roof of the stationary elevator car, suspended who knows how many floors above ground level, just waiting for the bottom to fall out from under her.
Jane removed the grate covering the air vent system, and placed it on a ledge to her left side.
"Follow me," Jane instructed, and began Army-crawling through the ducts.
Follow me, she says. Climb through this hole in the ceiling, she says. Crawl on your stomach in this tiny, claustrophobic air vent while I— I take it all back. Her ass is worth it.
Anna's eyes were unabashedly glued to the blonde's rear, the tight (so tight) uhm… corridor they traversed snaking right and left, a maze of tunnels that Jane led her farther and farther into.
I am crawling in her tunnel. FUCK.
The blonde paused over another grate, removing it with a deftness that suggested repetition. It clattered down into the room below. She disappeared through the hole like a bunny in a top hat.
"A? Come on down."
"Alright… I'm, working on it…"
She fell in a lump on the white floor of an open-concept apartment. White walls, white cabinets, white furniture, white trim, white… everything. The furniture was sparse. One couch, an uncomfortable IKEA do-it-yourselfer seat stationed at the end of a small table, a pristine kitchen, unused, from the looks of the immaculate finish.
"It's so homey," Anna said.
"I wasn't expecting company. I would have added a throw pillow."
"Ha," Anna deadpanned. "Oh…"
"Oh, what?"
"Now I get it," Anna said, turning toward the wall-length window to the right.
The garden of Manhattan stretched out and below, waiting to be plucked up like a flower, a bouquet of Avenues and Boulevards. Anna thought Jane could tend to them from this height; see their faults, weed-like potholes, thorny construction sites. Jane could manipulate, prepare, protect herself from burns and scratches with her ever-present gardening gloves. Anything from those streets, she could be ready for. She isolated herself to watch over the city. She also isolated herself to watch out for the city. All that brick and light could crush a person, and Jane was uniquely fragile. Not delicate, as evinced by her beating. But breakable.
"So, there's a washroom through that door," Jane directed. "I may have, uhm, crackers? In the cabinets."
She disappeared into another room and returned moments later, harness attached to her midsection and black duffel slung over her shoulder. A thick coil of black rope looped over her arm and a beanie perched atop her head. Anna was just marveling at how much she looked like a penguin when—
"Well, you can have the bed. I'll see you in a few hours," Jane said.
"Wait, what? You're leaving?"
"I've got some things to do."
"Oh, sure. Places to go. People to see," Anna returned sarcastically.
"Places, yes. People, never."
"You're not being a very gracious hostess."
"Oh," Jane said, as if she were genuinely surprised. "I, uhm, hmm… There are just a few things I need before we fly to Europe, and, well, it's easier to burgle at night."
"I know that. I just didn't expect you to lock me in a tower."
"You can… leave, if you wish."
"I never said that," Anna rebutted, frustrated at the woman for putting words in her mouth. "I suppose I'll find some way to entertain myself."
"Oh!" Jane said, as if she had the perfect solution. "Olaf can keep you company. Olaf!"
Blue lasers bursts in diagonal lines and swirled into place like a whirlpool, droplets of light pouring down into something vaguely human-looking.
"Hi Jane!"
"Hello, Olaf."
"We made it home!"
"Temporarily, I'm afraid. Could you please keep A company while I go take care of some business?"
"Of course!"
"A can… uhm, play on the computer."
Jane sneered at the phrase. It was as if she had said, 'A can behead the children'.
"But Jane!" Olaf attempted to drag Jane down to his level, and proceeded to thrust his transparent face into her ear, whispering hurriedly.
"I trust you to monitor her usage. Don't let her activate any nuclear devices, and I'm sure we'll all be fine," Jane said.
"Okay!"
Jane turned back to Anna, who had been reviewing the entire exchange with the effrontery of one slighted. She hadn't expected to just wait around while Jane got to do all the fun stuff. And how was she supposed to get out of this place without Jane's help? That serial killer list Jane had given her back in Natchitoches resurfaced from the bowels of her brain, and she cast a wary glance at Olaf. He looked every bit the endearing doofus, and couldn't actually touch her, but that knowledge didn't calm her nerves entirely. However did those heroines in the movies do it? Locked away in secluded castles and towers for not just a few measly hours, but the better part of their lives? Jane may have been enamored with the 'Ice Queen' title, but Anna would leave the princessing to Kate Middleton.
Anna herself would be the most unlikely princess in existence.
"I'll be back before dawn," Jane said, tossing her bag back through the open vent. The rope followed, and Jane not far behind it, jogging across the open floor and somersaulting into a round-off, leaping back and gripping the vent edge with those nimble, super-strong fingers.
She pulled her body weight up by her fingertips. Holy—
Anna squeezed her legs together. The combination of arousal and trepidation leaving her… well, physically affected.
Otherwise known as turned the fuck on.
"Be… safe," Anna said, equally as confused by the statement as Jane looked.
"Me? Safe?" Jane smiled down at her, and it was all the red head could do not to bolt to the bathroom to see if Jane kept a removable pulsating shower head.
"Never," Jane smirked.
She WINKED at me!
The grate was back in place and Anna locked in her white tower, impatiently awaiting her Queen's return.
"So, what would you like to do?" Olaf asked. "We can watch security tape from Russia, go over finances in the Eurozone, figure out what's going on down in Crimea! We can always tip off the DEA and border patrol about the next drug shipment coming through Tijuana—"
"While all of that sounds fascinating, Olaf, I uhm…"
I have to go and masturbate because your creator is a sumptuous minx hellbent on melting me into a glob of overactive libido and lust.
"I'm sort of tired. I'm going to go… take a shower."
"Okay."
Olaf followed Anna to the restroom, passing specter-like through the closed door. She had her shirt tugged up above her ribcage when she noticed the little digital man.
"Holy shit! Olaf!"
"Yes?"
"What are you doing in the bathroom?"
"Jane told me to keep you company."
"I'm sure she didn't mean while I'm using the bathroom."
Olaf looked at her skeptically. "Hmm, are you sure? She told me to make sure you didn't get into any trouble."
"What trouble could I get up to in the bathroom?!"
Aside from the fun kind?
"I don't know, but trouble can lurk around every corner," Olaf answered, raising a suspect digital brow.
"Pssh, who told you that?"
"Jane."
"Well, Jane is wrong."
"I don't think so. Jane thinks people are naturally bad."
"Well, I think people are good," Anna challenged. "Which is usually a fault. Call it an observation from someone who actually interacts with people."
"Jane interacts with people."
"No, she doesn't."
"She helps lots of people!"
"What are you talking about?"
"Here."
Olaf beebopped on his tablet for a bit, and pulled up a page-long list of addresses, in different countries, with different names. The only thing they had in common was—
"They're orphanages?" Anna asked.
"Yeah!"
"Did Jane have something to do with this?"
"Yeah!"
"Did she do it because she felt bad?"
"Yeah," this time, with less enthusiasm.
"Did she… build all of these?"
"Yeah."
"How did she pay for them?"
"The diamond market never fell victim to the recession. People will always buy shiny stuff. That's what Jane says," Olaf said triumphantly.
"You mean, she… she started— she started all of these? Is supporting all of these kids?"
"Yeah. She was going to break ground on another one in New Zealand, but she didn't want there to be any funds slipping through the cracks with the others. Sort of a quality over quantity thing. Thinks that if kids have to live in orphanages, then they need to be good orphanages. She was really excited about the job in St. John, was talking about sustainability projections, finally being able to go and visit—"
"She's never even been to the sites? Seen the... fruits of her labor?" Anna asked.
"She's afraid to. Says she'll hurt the kids... the people. But she's gotten a lot better, with the gloves. With the control. It's been about… four months now? Everything's seemed easier for her. She smiles, now," Olaf added, an afterthought.
Anna had met Jane about four months ago.
And this was it: in the movies, it was never an instant. Directors and producers have to drag it out over three acts, make it juicy for the viewers. They can film the exact moment, the exact expression, the misty tears at the lash line and the unattractive wrinkle at the corner of a lip crease. But they can't film a feeling: an indescribable warmth emanating from the gut, branching outward and heating the bones, endorphins geysering out of the brain and flooding the blood stream, tugging a body higher than even the most confining tower, the whitest skyscraper. When infatuation and lust transmute to something more palatable, more pure.
The exact instant when you fall in love is much like the instant that you are born. You don't exist, and then you do. But you could never remember not being born, not being this way.
It's an instant impervious to outside factors. Outside factors like environment, or company, or type of lover.
It could happen in a bathroom.
Accompanied by a digitized nonhuman.
And you could fall in love with the most terrifyingly terrified woman on the planet, and still be content.
Anna woke to the smell of bacon. She had fallen asleep on Jane's mattress, comfortable and plush, excepting the fact that it was missing a bed frame. But Jane was Jane, and furniture did not seem to be high on her list of priorities.
It was endearing, catching glimpses into Jane's personal preferences through almost stalkerish observation. But it was also disheartening, the fact that Jane's passions weren't as concrete.
Easily pleased?
Easily disappointed.
It was like she was expecting disappointment. And Anna couldn't completely blame her, now knowing what she did about her history. Jane as much as admitted she had killed people. Through accident or intent, nothing was certain. But knowing that a trait, a natural part of your makeup could fatally harm others? What if Anna's babbling induced strokes and cardiac arrest? You can't just stop something that… is.
Too early.
Anna rolled over and caught another whiff of bacon, trudging bleary eyed and sleep woozy in her oversized t-shirt, kitchen bound. It looked as if dawn had cracked, but refused to break. Dull blue skies with black bars rising against them filled the windowed wall, and Jane stood sentinel over it.
Not stood… bent. Or… leaning? INVERTED LEANING?
Anna caught the first glimpse of the entirety of Jane's bare legs. Clad in black, stretchy booty shorts and a matching sports bra, Jane held the entirety of her weight on her forearms, bent ninety degrees at the elbow as those dazzling legs saluted the morning. Gloved fingers splayed wide on a mat, toes pointed toward the heavens, deep, easy breaths, a body of pliable ligaments and contracting muscles that could zap you to dust. Anna faced those kneecaps like an executioner.
There was no way a European mission could end well for her.
"Hi," Jane said from the floor.
Anna craned her neck sideways to smile at Jane.
"You're up early," Anna said.
"I never went to sleep. I always do this before bed."
What? Tempt unsuspecting young con women virgins with your sensuously dexterous and woefully oblivious body?
Anna yawned, unaccustomed to rising with the sun. "I smelled bacon."
"Oh no! I meant for that to go off much later."
"What are you talking about? 'Cause I'm gonna be very disappointed if you didn't bring me bacon."
"I fear you'll be disappointed, then. Would cronuts lift your spirits?" Jane asked.
"You're only forgiven because you're hot— the cronuts are still hot."
Shit shit shit shit—
"First batch," Jane said, indicating a paper bag on the bar. "The line's usually around the corner for those things."
"Well, they're basically funnel cakes for breakfast."
"What's a funnel cake?"
"A cronut, but not for breakfast. Like, from the carnivals?"
"I've never been to a carnival."
"We shall remedy that upon our return from Europe," Anna said.
"I would like that very much," Jane said softly.
When Anna reawoke in three hours time, she would recall this moment having more weight to it than she presently recognized. Even in her semiconscious state, all future plans involved Jane. How could they not? Anna loved her.
"But let me see if I can reset it." Jane skipped into the bedroom while Anna wolfed down a cronut, groaning as hot dough and strawberry filling slithered down her esophagus. Powdered sugar peppered her upper lip and she inhaled, nothing better than morning pastry. Except maybe a mid-morning pastry. She wanted to go back to sleep.
"You've got some white on your upper lip," Jane noted, returning to the kitchen.
"I don't like cocaine, I just like the way it smells."
"Excuse me?"
"Too early for jokes," Anna said, laying her arm on the bar, her head dramatically following suit.
"Here, try the bacon again."
Bacon scents teased Anna's nostrils.
"What is that?" Anna asked.
"It's yours," Jane said, handing her the latest iPhone. It had a small, cube-like device inserted into the earphone portal.
"You got me a phone that smells like bacon?"
"That's absurd. I got you a phone that sprays bacon scent."
"Which is less absurd… how?"
"You're awake at five thirty in the morning. When was the last time a conventional alarm woke you at this hour?"
"You… are entirely correct."
She got me a phone. A scent-spraying phone that smells like bacon.
"It comes in other scents, too. You like coffee, so I picked that one up. And cinnamon…" she trailed off, blank face and voice undeterminable. "It's a new app, and I thought you'd find it amusing."
"Did you get mint?"
"Oh, no, I don't think they had that one."
"Mint," Anna said. "I love that smell." I love your smell.
In all honesty, it was one of the most practical gifts Anna had ever received. So many trinkets from marks or acquaintances were ornamental, if only because, again, no one really knew her. After a few weeks, Jane had correctly deduced that the only way to drag Anna out of bed was through food. And the idea that Jane had paid enough attention, that someone had finally noticed her… Anna, not A. It was a little overwhelming.
Early morning yoga sessions and late night drunken confessions on cabana porch swings. Places and times when slices of love happen.
"These are wonderful," Anna said, indicating the cronuts. "And this is perfect, thank you," she said, shaking the phone in her hand.
"I'm— I'm pleased that you like it."
They smiled, and then yawned simultaneously.
"I need to go to bed," Jane mumbled.
"And I need a few more hours," Anna said, trudging back toward the bed room. Jane followed and leaned against the door jamb, arms over her abdomen.
"Go on then, I'll take the couch."
"That's silly, it'll be bright as day in there in another thirty minutes. I know your body clock's already off enough as it is."
I want to know everything about your body.
"I'm told to be a gracious host, I don't take that job lightly," Jane cajoled.
"This is ridiculous. We're both adults. Push me to whichever side you don't use. I'm going to wake up and go get coffee in like, three more hours any way. If I can get through that damned ceiling."
Jane regarded the mattress reproachfully.
"I'm not sure that's wise…"
"You don't spark in your sleep, do you?" Anna said, lifting the corner of the blanket on the right side of the mattress. She burrowed underneath and her eyes were closed in seconds, head nestled into the crook of her lolling arm.
"No, I don't."
"Then stop making such a big deal about it. I'm not going to like, violate you, but a cuddle's not out of the question. Just a warning, I'm a sprawler. Come on."
Anna felt the mattress dip at her side.
"Aren't you gonna—" yawn, "—change into PJs or somthin'?" she slurred.
"I sleep nude, but I don't think that's entirely appropriate."
"I wouldn't have minded," Anna said, succumbing to sleep's pull.
"Oh really?" Jane said, amused.
"Naaah, you're hooo—snoooaaagggghhh."
An incredibly amused Jane watched over a snoring Anna, and soon the former drifted to sleep, with only the smell of bacon and cronuts floating between them.
A/N: We made cronuts the other day at work, and I saw the scent dispenser app on the news the other night. You are thus given this chapter. Thanks to all, and review if you feel so inclined.