All characters from Frozen are the exclusive property of Disney.

~o~

I adjust my tie as I walk into the club. The dry cleaning bill is going to be absurd, as much blood as they are going to have to get out, but fortunately my adoptive father will be the one paying it. It is just like him to give me a job on my birthday. If I hurry I can still make it in time for dinner with Anna. I count the guards as I make my approach to the bar. There are ten visible in this room, and I'd counted another five outside. That makes the odds good that there are at least thirty total here, and there are certainly a few more people carrying concealed that aren't on the payroll. Nothing I can't handle.

"Elsa?" my target asks. "Haven't seen you in a while, still running tricks for your old man?"

"Running tricks?" I quirk an eyebrow at the older man. "You make me sound like a hooker."

He laughs, but does nothing to retract his statement. I am going to enjoy this. "Who're you here to intimidate tonight? I haven't seen anyone new in the club, so I'm guessing it's one of the usuals. Try not to cause a scene, all right, I can't afford the kind of damage you do."

"You won't have to worry about it," I reply, prompting a confused look from the man. "You shouldn't have sold him out, Johnny," I sigh as I fire two rounds into his gut, the suppressor masking the sound under the booming bass of the music.

He stares up at me from his new spot on the floor, his mouth trying to form words. At a crescendo in the music, another shot to the head ensures his continued silence. There is no one else shooting. That had gone better than I'd dared to hope.

As I walk away from the newly deceased man, I hear a woman scream. I just needed a few more seconds. Dammit. The entire club panics, the music and lights adding to the cacophony as bodies swarm everywhere. I follow the flow of the crowd towards the exit. No one seems to be quite sure what had happened. Good.

I manage to make it outside and begin to head to my car when I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder as I suddenly tumble to the ground. Another burst of pain occurs in my left knee as three men approach my prone form. My other shoulder spasms and I see a pool of blood enter my limited field of vision. I can't even feel the pain at this point. That is not a good sign.

"Elsa Arlotti," a voice sounds from far away. I attempt to stir in response, but can't manage even an inch. Shit, I am really dying, aren't I?

"You killed my newest hire. I know, business is business. I understand, but I need to send your father a message."

His tone makes it abundantly clear that the message was my head. Frank Corsetti is a headhunter, in the very literal sense. He employs people who have made a name for themselves in organized crime, recruiting them from their own family, and uses their skills and information to manage a meteoric rise that had put him at the top of every hit-list. He also liked cutting off people's heads. This information swam through my adrenaline filled brain as recognition finally formed. Now that I know what's happening, it would be fantastic if I could move.

My other knee twitches. It having been caused by my efforts to rise seems unlikely, that was almost certainly the fourth bullet in me. I feel cold. More than just the chill that comes with bleeding to death. It's like ice had formed in my heart and is slowly pumping out to the wounds. Like my body is being remade from my newly frozen core.

"The fuck?" Another voice cries from above me. I hear the sound of metal tearing. They sure are taking their sweet time to kill me.

"What the hell?" Frank asks. I hear him take a few paces back. It will be hard to cut my head off from that far away. What is he planning?

A sharp crack rings out above me. It sounds almost like another gun shot. I sit up, and find that I am now able to do so. I can move again! The man closest to me is holding half of a pistol with shards of ice stabbing out in every direction from the split open chamber.

"What are you?" he asks, backing away.

The man next to him points his gun at me and pulls the trigger. It explodes like the gun from an old cartoon after a rabbit places a carrot in the muzzle. Frost had coated the barrel and jammed it. 'What the hell' was right. What is happening? It doesn't even feel cold anymore, which is saying something given that it's late December in New York. I feel strangely comfortable, while everyone around me is shivering. I reach for my gun, but it must have been stripped from me while I was on the ground, as my hand comes up empty.

I stand and look down at my knees. The wounds seem to have been sealed shut with a layer of ice that moves like it's my own skin. I flex my new joints and find that they are perfectly responsive. Another shot rings out as Corsetti fires on me. Apparently his gun hadn't frozen over like the other two. The bullet shatters against an icy casing on my chest. We both stare at it in shock. Anna had always said that my tits were magic.

That is my Beretta in his hand! The jerk had shot me with my own gun. That's just rude. I take a step toward him and the fucker actually pisses his pants. I take another step and he turns to run away. I chase after him.

The two of us run through the streets of New York, knocking frightened pedestrians aside. He hits an intersection just as the light changes and hesitates for a moment. I am on him in an instant. His neck snaps easily under my grip and I retrieve my pistol from his slack form.

I dash into a nearby restaurant to avoid the crowd that is forming around his body, and dart into the restroom. In the mirror, I study my appearance. The ice is gone, if it had ever really been there. My suit is torn with four bullet holes in it, and it is covered in blood. Through the holes, my skin is visible and unbroken. This doesn't make any sense. Did all of that really happen? I must be going insane.

I pull my phone from my jacket pocket. It had escaped the incident with only a slight crack on the screen from my fall. It's seven o'clock. I still have time to make it to dinner, though I will definitely want to change first.

I wash up the best I can and then duck out through the kitchens and wind my way back to my car. I check under the hood to make sure that none of Corsetti's men have left any surprises for me and then I climb into the Mercedes and start the engine. I drive home first to change into a clean suit and then leave for the restaurant.

~o~

I arrive at the restaurant at ten minutes to eight. Perfect timing. I check in with the hostess and our table hasn't been seated yet. I tell her I'll wait for my date.

A few minutes later, a beautiful redhead in a teal dress rushes in through the door. "Elsa?" she gasps. "I'm not late am I?"

"You're right on time," I smile. She kisses me. I kiss back, pulling her into my arms.

"Happy birthday," she sighs breathlessly when our lips part.

Once we are seated, Anna hands over a small bag tied shut with a bow. I stare at it for a moment as I take it from my girlfriend. It has my name written on a tag in an elaborate calligraphy. I untie the ribbon and extract an ornate blue bracelet from the bag. "Do you like it?" she asks nervously. It isn't exactly my style, but it is beautiful. "It matches your eyes."

I promptly put it on my wrist. "I love it." A smile lights up her face. I love this woman so incredibly much, she's more than I could ever deserve, and I will do anything to make her smile like that. Even wear jewelry.

"I'm glad. I saw it a few weeks ago and immediately thought it would look so beautiful on you. I was worried you wouldn't like it, I know you're not too big on jewelry. Or really any of that girly stuff." She looks me up and down in my fitted grey suit.

"It's from you. That makes it perfect."

Just then our waitress arrives. "Good evening," she chirps in an annoying sing-song voice. "My name's Snow. Yes it's really my name, my parents were hippies. Is there a special occasion bringing you here tonight?"

I shake my head, but Anna eagerly informs her that it is my birthday.

"Oh, really? That's wonderful! Happy birthday. Is this your sister?" she asks me.

Well, technically yes, but I'm certainly not going to say that. My face must have alternated between half a dozen emotions in response to that question, but in the end both Anna and I start laughing. "I'm her girlfriend," Anna informs her between bursts of giggles.

Snow lights up a bright crimson. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I feel awful. I'll go make sure the kitchen knows you'll want a free birthday cake," she insists, dashing off.

"We still need to order our drinks," I call after her. Why do waitresses love to ask that question? Has the answer ever been yes?

"She'll be back," Anna insists, her laughter finally dying down.

I study the menu. The parmesan crusted chicken breast does sound quite good. I could feel Anna staring at me so I study the menu all the harder. I do really like their prime rib, but I'm not sure I feel like that today.

"Why does it always bother you so much?" Anna asked.

I set the menu down and sigh. "It's just weird," I state flatly.

"People have thought we were sisters since we were kids. We were best friends from the time we were five, it only makes sense," she said, in her comforting-Elsa voice. "And we have been for the last eight years."

"Don't say that," I grumble, looking around for anyone who could overhear. "And we weren't dating when we were kids, it was different."

"Really?" she gasps. "You could have fooled me. I recall you proposing to me when we were six."

I am glad that we don't yet have our drinks, as that would have resulted in me spitting mine everywhere. I settle for only rolling my eyes at her.

"I said yes, didn't I?" she teases.

I blink and gape at her. I've been working up the nerve to ask her that same question for the last month. "Wait, are you saying we're already engaged?"

She blinks back. She had apparently not considered her own words. "Well, I," she hesitates. "I guess we are? I mean, I don't have a ring. I ate the last one you gave me."

I check my jacket pocket. The ring is in there. I had remembered to grab it before I left home. This is basically the perfect chance to ask her.

Our waiter returns. "I'm so sorry," Snow says again. "I forgot to get your drink orders. Are you ready to order now or just the drinks?"

I order the chicken breast with mashed potatoes and green beans. Anna orders the prime rib. I am probably going to have to steal a bite of that. By the time she retreats, I have lost the nerve and the ring stays in my pocket.

"How was work?" Anna asked, once Snow has left.

I consider the bullets that are possibly still in my body. How could I possibly explain what had happened? "More or less the usual," I say, hedging my bets. "I was doing a job for our father, things got messy, but I'm fine."

"Define messy?" she growls.

This is why I hate telling her about my day. "Nothing I couldn't handle, I'm fine, I promise. And when I talk to Dad I'm likely to be getting a nice bonus for taking out Frank Corsetti. I'll spend it all on you, I promise."

She glares at me. "I wish you wouldn't do this kind of work for him. You know I worry about you. What if you'd been killed?"

I think I was. "Then you'd personally walk down to Hell and drag me back up here for abandoning you," I reply with a sly smile.

It does nothing to lessen her glare. "Damn right, I would. I just don't want this life for you, for us. I don't exactly risk my life like you do, but can't we just go build our own life somewhere else? We don't need to be criminals forever."

This would be an ideal time to propose. All I would need to do is take the ring out of my pocket, I know she would say yes. The ring doesn't move. "We owe him for taking us in, Anna. I'm not just abandoning the only family I've ever known. Besides, I'm really good at my job." I add with a cocky grin.

She sighs and shakes her head. Snow arrives with our drinks and Anna quickly drains her glass of wine and asks for another. I sip at my Jack and Coke while the waitress giggles and promises to be right back with another drink for Anna. Maybe we will drop the subject and just enjoy our date. It is my birthday after all, can't I at least be spared lectures on this one day? I have no such luck.

"Promise me that if it ever gets to be too much for you then we can leave? Papa be damned, all we need is each other," she insists, her gaze never leaving mine.

"Anna, if it gets to be too much, then I'm pretty sure I'll be dead or in prison."

"Then just before then!"

"Fine, I promise, we can live out our days as fugitives if it ever comes to it. Okay?"

The glare returns. I smile back affably. She allows a slight snicker and reaches to take a sip of her wine only to find it still empty. "I'm sorry. It's your birthday, we shouldn't be focusing on this. Let's just relax and have a good time."

I smile back at her. That sounds pretty reasonable. "All right, then let's get drunk," I laugh.

"No, I don't want you passing out when we get into bed. I was hoping to have a good bit more fun tonight. I have to please the birthday girl, don't I?" she winks at me. It is utterly adorable.

"All right, I'll try to lay off the Jack then." I take another sip to prove my point and end up with nothing but ice cubes in my mouth. I glance at the drink, which is still mostly full, and try to wrap my mind around the physics of this.

Our food arrives, and I look longingly at the prime rib on my partner's plate. My chicken looks good too, but I am seriously regretting deviating from my normal order.

Anna giggles when she notices me eyeing her plate. "Would you like a bite?" she offers charitably.

I nod enthusiastically. She cuts off a corner piece and feeds it to me. "Mmm," I inform her.

She helps herself to a bite and has a similar reaction.

"Would you like some of my chicken?" I ask, extending my fork to her. She bites it off the fork and immediately starts fanning her mouth.

"It's still hot," she whines.

Never one for smart decisions, I take a bite myself. I stare at her in confusion. It's frozen solid. I poke the chicken with a finger to see if maybe that one piece was just oddly cooked, but when I do so I find it hard as a rock. "It really isn't," I laugh.

"What do you mean?" Anna asks, looking up from her now almost half devoured slab of beef.

I hand the plate over to her. "It's still frozen."

She pokes it with her knife. It doesn't sink in. She follows up with a finger and finds that I'm right. "But the cheese is melted! And that bite was really hot! That doesn't make any sense."

I flag down Snow as she walks past. "Miss, my chicken is still frozen."

She stares at it, studying it carefully. "How?" She asks quietly. "Our chicken doesn't even come frozen. It's all fresh."

"Could I get it replaced?" I ask, lacking an answer to her question.

She nods, still studying the food, as she takes my plate back to the kitchen. Anna looks awkwardly between me and her food. "Would you like some more?" she offers reluctantly after a moment's consideration.

I help myself to a little of her food while we wait. Once it's brought out, the new chicken breast is an adequate temperature and we finish our meal before we head home.

The instant we enter our apartment, Anna pushes me up against the wall and begins kissing my neck. I find my jacket on the ground as she tugs at my collar, exposing more of my neck. That is so going to wrinkle the poor jacket. Another kiss sheds the thought from my mind. She's worked her way through half the buttons on my shirt as her lips meet my clavicle. A low moan emanates from my throat and I unzip her dress, causing it to fall to the floor.

She runs her hands down my back as she pulls me to her. "You're so cold," she remarks, without slowing in her ministrations. I don't feel cold, I feel very warm, particularly in rather vital areas.

We manage to make our way to the bedroom, shedding our remaining clothes in the process. Anna promptly tackles me onto the bed. "Hey there," I laugh, looking up into my girlfriend's beautiful teal eyes.

"Now time for your real birthday present," she giggles. Her kisses resume at my collar bone. I whimper slightly as her lips pass one of my peaks, prompting a mischievous grin from the redhead. I yelp in response to a sharp nip. She laughs again and continues kissing downward.

By the time she reaches my thighs, I'm nothing but putty in her hands. Well, her mouth. Her lips move up a few inches and place a tender kiss upon my own. I writhe in response. I feel a low rumble vibrating out from her throat as her tongue explores my core. My legs wrap around her as I try to pull her ever closer, as she laps hungrily at my sex.

Her mouth latches onto my hood as she gently sucks. I can feel myself getting closer and I writhe against her unthinkingly. I'm so heated it feels like the room is frozen solid. When I'm a mere inch from completion, she suddenly stops and puts a hand to her head. "Please, Anna, please don't stop." My legs twitch, shoving her face back towards my core.

She doesn't resume. She winces at me apologetically. "My head is killing me," she sighs. "It feels like I just ate too much ice cream."

I notice that my hand has taken the place of her mouth without my having intended it to. I'm too close to consider her words. She allows a pained but satisfied smile onto her face as I look longingly into her eyes as I climax. "I love you," I murmur.

"I love you too, Els," she replies softly, pulling me into her arms. "Sorry about that. My head is just really killing me. I'm gonna grab some ibuprofen."

"Sure you don't want a turn?" I laugh. "Nothing cures a headache better."

She kisses the top of my head. "It's a really bad one, I just want to eat a handful of pills and cuddle up and go to sleep."

I sigh, it's hardly how I wanted my birthday to end, but I can hardly complain about any night that ends in bed with her. "All right, you wait here, I'll go grab you some water and ibuprofen."

~o~

A few hours later, I awake to hear someone moving in our living room. I grab a gun from my nightstand and head out to investigate. What kind of an idiot breaks into a mobster's home? I encounter a man in a hooded dark blue robe searching through some junk mail that was sitting on the coffee table. Who invited The Grand Poobah?

He turns toward me as I approach. Good ears, I'm generally pretty good at remaining unheard. "Who the hell are you?" he asks.

I blink and take a moment to compose myself before I gesture with my gun in his general direction. "I'm pretty sure that's supposed to be my line."

"But you're supposed to be him!" he screams.

Great, he's going to wake up Anna, then I'm going to have to kill him, and then she'll bitch at me for getting blood all over our nice furniture. "How about we keep it down, my girlfriend's trying to sleep. Now explain very calmly what you're doing here and why I shouldn't kill you right this second?"

He rifles through the letters again. "Are you Anna?" he asks, reading the name from a piece of mail.

"I'm Elsa," I answer. Wait, why the hell am I telling him my name?

"There's not a man who lives here?" he asks, almost sheepishly. This is the most pitiful robbery I've ever been witness to, and I've been there for more than a handful.

"'Fraid it's just us dykes." I gesture with my pistol again. "Now how about instead of acting like an asshole, you answer my questions before I have to dry clean the curtains behind you?"

"But I know the power was here. We felt it, we heard its call. It was right here," he mutters, more to himself than to me.

"All right, buddy," I sigh. "Let's get you back to your padded cell. Are you off your meds?" I take a step towards him with my gun aimed at the ground. He doesn't so much as flinch. That's never a good sign. Even crazy people tend to react when someone approaches them holding a weapon.

"I can't go back empty handed. I know he's been here!" his voice is rising again. I'm going to have to snap his neck if I want to both avoid waking Anna and ruining our apartment. I take another few steps toward him and his eyes lock onto mine. "It can't be you," he growls.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I reply honestly. "Now shut up or I'm going to continue putting bullets in you until you shut up." Regular crisis negotiator, me.

"Who was your father?"

I stop in my tracks. What the hell kind of break-in is this? "No idea. What's it to you?" I retort. The bastard gave me up before I was old enough to crawl. Of course, I suppose that makes me the actual bastard.

"How can you be a girl?" he asked, confusion clear on his face.

Can't say I didn't warn him. I raise my gun until it's aimed just between his eyes and tense my finger on the trigger. "I've had enough of you." I begin to squeeze and feel a blow to the back of my head. The last thing I hear is the sound of my gun going off as I lose consciousness.