The epilogue (slice-of-life-esque two-shot) to Stolen Ice, so... this isn't going to make any sense unless you've read that. So go read that! Or continue cluelessly! I don't own Frozen, Anna, Elsa, or anything Disney, unless you count the VHS tapes from my childhood.

Two and a Half Years Later

"Hey pretty baby with the high heels on—"

E.J. ducked gracefully away from her conversation with the congressman in the black bow tie, faking a sip at her glass. She whispered harshly, "A—"

"You give me fever like I've never, ever known!"

"Hush right now! Someone will hear you!"

"You're just a product of loveliness—"

E.J. scanned the glitterati in the room with a drooping eye and meandered toward the head of the carpeted staircase. Hors d'oeuvres laden servers glided in and out of clumped guests; a string ensemble plucked and slid bows over rich wooden instruments in the burgundy carpeted foyer; soft lights glimmered from chandeliers; patrons bid exorbitantly at the silent auction; the theatre manager flit about like a genial gerbil on crack, racing toward the security head and then back to the president of the auction house.

She hoped her jetlag wasn't too obvious, juxtaposed so crudely against the resplendence.

The 2016 North American Precious Gems Showcase radiated bejeweled elegance, such that it seemed to seep from the pores of the black-tie attired guests like some pungent eau de cologne, selling for a hundred dollars an ounce. E.J., upon Kai's insistence, had been sent to schmooze the Chicago bourgeoisie. Her least favorite part of her new career involved schmoozing, where supposedly innocuous phrases were loaded with an undercurrent of political favors, sycophantic assurances, and 'scratch-my-back I'll-scratch-yours' implications. Though she'd had an expert teacher on the mingling, E.J. still sometimes wondered if being the face of a non-profit boded well for a natural introvert.

Once upon a time, her job had involved stealing money. Technically, that was still her job, but she didn't steal as much, or nearly as often. Instead, she asked for it: reduced to pitching tax write-offs as donations for in-progress children's homes. Her detailed, diplomatic nature flourished under such circumstances; though her other side, the side simmering below her skin, itching to be released in a charged bolt, the side that thrived in freefall from buildings… it had been relegated to the backburner.

Not that it wasn't still used, just less frequently. She had dependents now, and conversely, people she depended on. She would never give up the exhilarating physicality of ropes and harnesses, but emotional factors held precedence over reckless feats of daredevilry. She had family now, responsibilities.

She was thankful to finally have a reason to be careful.

Instead of swinging from rafters in a floor-length gown and high heels, she simply admired the displays of the participating retailers: Cartier, Tiffany, Autore, Graff, Harry Winston, Piaget, Bulgari and Chopard. Despite her fatigue, her eyes widened at the gems on display. Like Christmas come early.

Static crackled in her ear, and the feminine voice that had been humming a pop song surged with greater bravado than originally sung:

"I like the groove of your walk, your talk, your dress!"

"You should," E.J. mumbled, strolling casually by a row of Bucellatti bracelets. The display plaque estimated a net worth of twenty-five thousand each, topazes and sapphires and rubies twinkling, prismic luminescence in the soft light of the candelabra. "You helped pick it out."

"You used to like it when I serenaded you," Anna reverted to her murmur-turned-whisper, losing her levity. E.J. had been listening to the nuances of her partner's vocals for three years now, and knew that Anna wasn't upset at her chiding. She was more likely surrounded by guests or servers, and unable to continue with her song.

E.J. couldn't help but grin, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear while surreptitiously checking her flesh-colored ear piece. "Well, when your voice is embedded in my ear canal, ignoring you is quite the task."

She heard Anna sigh over their short wave frequency.

"No one ever told me the magic would fade so quickly."

"There is no shortage of magic in our relationship," E.J. rebutted. "Perhaps you just need to work a little harder."

E.J. spotted a bobbing head of copper down on the main floor of the theatre lobby. She raised a champagne flute filled with sparkling white grape juice to her mouth, and spoke over the lip of the glass: "Variety is the spice of life."

"The last time I introduced some 'spice' I slept on the couch for a week."

"We can't very well join the mile high club if I'm piloting the damn jet!"

"Isn't that what autopilot's for?"

E.J. scoffed prettily and mumbled, "Hardly for a quickie in the cockpit."

"Miss Arendelle?"

A blush crawled up from her exposed sweetheart neckline, but, like the true professional she was, E.J. gathered herself and faced the gentleman at her shoulder.

"Yes, congressman?"

"Could I steal you away for another moment? I'd love to know your thoughts on Cartier's commission for the Maharaja."

"The 1929 release, or the earlier necklace? Cartier was rumored to have set the emeralds, but the provenance is outrageously shoddy for such an expensive piece."

"Good God! I didn't know there were two on display! Please, if you don't mind my wife needling you with further jeweled inquiries."

"Only if you don't mind me needling you about the tax levies for the new home on the south side."

"Party politics?"

"Politics at a party, sir," E.J. smiled demurely.

"How a woman of your age runs a company like you do, plus jewel histories on the side—"

"Women do enjoy their trinkets, congressman."

"You've too much talent for such a young mind."

"Boy, does she," Anna cut in over the ear piece. "There's this one thing she does, inverted if you can believe it—"

"Thank you, sir!" E.J. choked out, Anna's teasing-induced coughing fit triggering a handful of raised brows from the congressman and his peers.

"Are you quite well, dear?" the congressman's wife asked.

"Yes, pardon me," E.J. said, nerves churning and building under the stares of the guests surrounding the Maharaja's display. She wouldn't go so far as to call herself proficient at grifting, but she'd successfully run a handful of cons when paired one-on-one with a mark, under Anna's insistent tutelage. But with crowds of people… well, she liked to stick with what she knew: "As… ehem, as I was telling you, congressman, there's the expected paper trail on the 1929 commission. But the older piece, 'The Elephant Diamond' as it was called—"

"Let's do this, I've got class in the morning. On my mark," Anna said over the E.P.

"—was actually worn by the Maharaja's transport elephant, the one he would ride during processionals. It was displayed at the crown of the pachyderm's skull, with enough rubies trailing down to dangle over the top of the beast's trunk! But the British government seized the necklace upon England's withdrawal from India in the forties. It ended up at Christie's auction house in London, and sold for something like eleven million—oh!"

"Oh, no, nonononono! I'm so sorry, mam'!"

The serving tray landed with a thud on the carpet. Alcohols of significant expense drenched the front of E.J's royal purple gown, staining the fabric and eliciting a series of gasps from the spectators surrounding the nearer displays. E.J. had to jump back to keep champagne flutes and heavy glass tumblers from crushing her toes.

"Oh, mam', my apologies, I'm so, so sorry!" The serving girl looked close to tears, frizzied hair sticking out at weird angles from her tight bun, thick, black-rimmed glasses charmingly askew. She blotted the carpet with a rag, but made little headway in mopping up the mess.

"Oh, God, your dress!" Adding fuel to the fire of her social gaffe, the serving girl proceeded to paw at E.J. with a white towel, practically copping a feel in front of a congressman, two company vice-presidents, and a head designer for Vogue.

"That's quite alright," E.J. gritted her teeth, and forcibly removed the hand patting at her abdomen. "I'm sure the restroom attendant has some club soda that can set this right. Ladies, gentleman, if you'll excuse me. Congressman, I haven't forgotten you. Expect a call from our offices," she warned, strutting out of the showroom while the lights dimmed infinitesimally.

E.J. gathered up her skirts and slipped down the marbled staircase, drops of something slipping down her forearm and onto her hand. It left a sticky trail on her arm's interior, and she vaguely wondered if that would effect her performance later. The floor manager took one look at her, then at the unfortunate serving girl slinking behind her. He intercepted the server and yanked her over to the side, face spasming with enraged tics. E.J. couldn't be bothered with the poor girl's fate, not when she needed to locate the bathroom.

"Excuse me," E.J. began, finding the nearest beefy dude with a buzz cut and an earpiece. "Directions to the ladies' room, please?"

The security officer took one look at E.J., who sported a gaping neckline with wet silk glued to her abdomen. Either he was experiencing dry mouth, or didn't know where the restroom was.

Good thing she already did.

"Sir?"

"D-D-Down the second staircase, take a right in the lower hall."

"Thank you."

The man grunted an affirmative and E.J. saw his head cock to the side in a gilded decorative mirror. He watched her swaying hips as she walked away.

She had to gnaw on her lip to stifle the giggle threatening to erupt. It wasn't like she was blatant about it, not like Anna. That's just how she walked in heels. The smugness bit… well, she would blame that one on Anna. Instead of taking the directed right at the bottom of the staircase, E.J. kept going straight down the hallway, then slipped through a pair of double doors. She removed her heels so they wouldn't click clack on the hard concrete surface, plush carpet forgone in the tech area underneath the stage. She hitched a left in the staff corridor and had almost made it to the abandoned dressing rooms when a small hand emerged from the recesses of a broom closet and yanked her inside.

Buzzing hydrogen bulbs and the scent of Lemon Pledge wafted in the air. Toilet cleaning products and yellow rubber gloves sat on a shelf at her immediate left. The handle of a plunger hung from a hook at eye level.

What an utterly romantic reunion.

"Got a little handsy back there," E.J. scolded. "Try not to be so overly familiar next time."

"As if you didn't love it."

"Did they fire you?"

"It was my first night, they could've given me a break!" Anna huffed dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest.

"What does that bring the number up to, now?"

"Including or excluding the time I masqueraded as that river boat captain?"

"God, not that again—"

"Total firings brought up to… I think it's only three. Which is a fair percentage if you take into account the number of jobs we run," Anna grinned maniacally up at E.J., cheeks flushed with giddiness and eyes filled with adoration.

"Hey there, stranger," she said.

"Hello," E.J. smiled.

Anna threw her arms around E.J.'s neck and pulled her into a tight embrace. E.J. placed her hands on Anna's hips, fingers finding purchase at the hem of her younger sibling's black shirt. Anna smelled of almond liquor and cherries, and looked a shade tanner than she had since before E.J. left. Anna released her, but didn't drop her hands. She instead opted for toying with the soft baby hairs at the nape of E.J.'s neck.

"It was only two weeks, Anna."

"I know, but I wanted to come with you."

"Really?" E.J. asked, a skeptical brow inching heavenward. "You wanted to fly back and run a job on a jet lagged body? And before that, sit through a week's worth of board meetings in Accra, with no air conditioning mind you, and traipse about in stifling heat scouting building sites?"

"It's no hotter than back at home."

"Debatable, as it's a different kind of heat. Besides, you had class."

"I know. I'm just ready for summer vacation is all," Anna returned, eyes flicking down to the front of her dress. "And then you show up wearing that. God, it killed me to spill drinks on something that beautiful."

"There's such a thing as dry-cleaning."

"I know, but E.J., it's just… I knew it would look good, but I didn't know it would look that good."

She stepped back as best she could in the tiny closet, hands trailing down E.J.'s exposed arms to grab her bare hands. Anna took stock of the woman in purple, eyes trailing a smoldering path down the blonde's body, fingers unconsciously compressing pressure points at E.J.'s wrists. And it walloped E.J. all of a sudden, that she hadn't seen Anna in two whole weeks.

She groaned, and squeezed Anna's hands to indicate her mutual frustration.

"Ugh… not now, Anna. We're on a bit of a schedule. You, more so than me if you're catching that red eye."

"We've still got two hours."

"You want to risk getting stopped by TSA at O'Hare? That'll set you back at least half an hour, so let's get going." E.J. turned to the side, giving herself more room to change. She watched Anna's eyes shift away, checking into 'job mode' before she'd even received a proper greeting.

Bad form, Anna.

"Okay, I've got your stuff—hmph!"

E.J. released Anna from a stealthy, smacking kiss, fingers curling over the handles of her beloved duffel.

"Well hello, gorgeous," E.J. commented toward the bag.

"Wow, uhm, thanks for the—hey!" Anna propped her fists on her hips, indignant pout marring her features. "You were talking to the bag again, weren't you?"

"You're just as pretty," E.J. teased, but cast a playful look back towards the unzipped bag of tricks.

"Very funny," Anna said, unamused.

"Jealous? You're the one that gets to help me undress."

"And don't you forget it," Anna threatened, aiming a wayward kick at the inanimate bag.

Anna shortly located the button-hook at the back of the dress and pulled the zipper down. The dress was discarded and replaced with black pants and a tight black tee, E.J.'s trademark gloves on her hands and the duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Anna had already changed, white button-up crumpled in the yellow mop bucket, black shirt and black catering pants already in place. Anna had removed the grate with a power drill, and all that remained was a quick trip through the vents to the secure holding area for the bigger auction items.

"Ready?" E.J. inquired.

"Always."

"You're going to make me go in ahead of you, right?"

"It's like you know me or something," Anna retorted with a salacious grin. "Let's get to it!" Anna slapped her butt as E.J. bent down toward the grate, shuffling from foot to foot in anticipation.

"And you wonder why I like the duffel bag more," E.J. grumbled, Army-crawling through the narrow passage.

"So… we're still doing the volcano tours, right?"

"Yes, Anna."

"And you've made the reservations at the B&B?"

"Yes, Anna."

"And you're clear with the control tower in Reykjavik?"

"Unless that volcano you're so inclined to see starts spewing ash, everything's ago."

"I'm sorry. You're transferring your type-A sensibilities onto me. I used to be so carefree!"

"I think you were always some type of A," E.J. retorted.

"Amazing, aesthetically-pleasing, adorable—"

"Arrogant, aggressive—"

"Hey!"

"But awful all the same."

"You get a pass for that because you've been gone for work," Anna replied. "Don't make me take away your tablet again."

"Surely I can't be in trouble after I brought you a present…"

"You brought me a present?!" Anna squealed like a piglet.

"Anna, volume," E.J. warned, pausing at the grate before her.

"There's no constant physical security this far in. I don't have to be as quiet."

"No need for carelessness. You know as well as I they're doing patrols."

"Sorry, I'm just—"

"I know. I missed you, too."

E.J. stuck her hand back over her body, unable to turn her head in the constricting space of the duct. But she felt the warmth, and the pressure, of Anna's paint-splattered and calloused hand holding her own. Her younger sister brushed a thumb over her knuckle. Anna had taken to calling the gesture a "hand hug". Because E.J.'s hands had been covered up for so long, Anna explained. They deserved sensation, too, benign touch, emphatic touch, comforting, vulnerable, insistent touch.

E.J. conjectured Anna just liked to hold her hand.

She released Anna and checked the corners of the rectangular fitting.

"Phillips."

She snapped soundlessly for Anna to hand over the tool. Four loose screws later, the pair plopped down into a large room, outfitted with labeled bookcases and shelves, numbered boxes, and, the least glaring but most dangerous detail of the space, a series of sixteen motion-sensing transceivers attached at strategic intervals on the far walls, with an invisible laser grid no doubt crisscrossing over the ten glass cases raised on blocks at the end of the room. She and Anna were free to take the unalarmed lots from the shelves on the room's near side, which had been their plan from the beginning.

No more stealing the big pieces.

No matter how much she wanted to, she didn't need them anymore. A handful of diamond bracelets and a few pairs of opal, pearl, and ruby earrings would fetch the necessary funds for the start-up in Ghana, no matter how stunning that tiara in the middle of the laser grid looked.

No matter how stunning Anna would look wearing it.

Oh, what the hell.

"Anna, can you give me a piece of that gum?"

"In your bag, second inside pocket. I'm just thankful you've expanded your preferences from Bubblemint to Wintergreen," Anna replied, working a tension wrench and raking her pick in the keyhole of one of the boxes. The snick of the released tumbler sounded and Anna gently lifted the lid to appraise the box's contents.

"Yes, yes, yes, hell yes, pass and… why not?" she said, placing rings and bracelets into a soft velvet bag. She slipped one gorgeous midnight sapphire onto her middle finger and surveyed its position on her knuckle.

"What do you think?" Anna asked, wiggling the bejeweled digit before her. She affected a nasal English accent, and flicked her wrist forward for perusal. "Rivals the clarity of the fabled Blue Carbuncle, wouldn't you agree Watson?"

"How do you know the Carbuncle isn't real?" E.J. asked with a goading tilt of the lips. "Perhaps it's been stolen." She popped a stick of Orbit in her mouth and began chewing.

Anna's jaw dropped, the younger girl throwing cheeky glances between the ring on her finger and a teasing E.J. "You didn't!"

"Of course I didn't," E.J. said easily, plucking a diamond-encrusted tennis bracelet from its perch. "But if it was real, don't think I wouldn't. And I would definitely be Holmes. You'd be Watson."

"You can be Holmes if I can be Irene Adler."

"You read me those stories, I thought he hated her."

"Such a thin line, sweetheart. As we well know," Anna finished, eyes trained on the crushed velvet display boxes she was presently relieving of their wares.

"Laser thin, you think?" E.J. asked.

Anna turned to face her. "E.J.?"

"Do we still have a bottle of spray deodorant in there?" E.J. inquired.

"Maybe one of the travel containers, but it's Dove! I paid like, ten bucks for that."

"Awe, poor little rich girl," E.J. said, uncapping the aerosol canister. She sprayed liberally, green laser lines appearing in the air, running indiscriminately in diagonal, horizontal, and vertical vectors. Not so much grid as incomprehensible web.

At least they're not mobile.

"Do we really have time for this? Patrol will be back by in… three minutes!" Anna tapped the digital countdown at her wrist. "And you said hairspray will set off the alarms for laser grids because the particles—"

"This is a cheaper system. Portable receivers attached to the walls. Theatres wouldn't have such advanced security," E.J. said from her crouched position. "Do you doubt me?"

"No, but I know when you haven't done anything outlandish and risky in a while you like to push your limits. I recall yelling at you to get off the top of the damn Pyramid one evening when you said you had been, and I quote 'rather wound up'. You were practically covered in pigeon poop."

"I was not covered, but I was wound up," E.J. said, walking forward on the flats of her palms.

She arched her back into a front walkover, pirouetting gently as she sprayed mist about her. The laser lines appeared more distinct under the chemical mist, navigability significantly easier with clearer sight lines. The spray deodorant made for a denser cloud than hairspray, but the particles weren't as heavy. She'd learned that lesson the hard way in the middle of a laser web in Cairo when the hairspray had rendered the floor sticky. Jane (for she had been Jane, then) had little traction, and the guards were mere feet from her. Since then, she'd taken to carrying the spray antiperspirant, despite Anna's objection to the expense of the product.

E.J. extended her right leg, develope into lunging crouch, and then tucked into a forward somersault, curving spine just missing a horizontal laser line about a foot off the ground. She uncurled herself once she reached the glass display case, and used the glass cutter Anna had stuck in her back pocket to cut a circular hole large enough for the slim diadem to fit through.

"You know those are armed with counterweight alarms."

"Yes," E.J. said airily, placing the flat of the glass-cutter blade across the counterweight trip panel. She retrieved the tiara and placed it on the crown of her head with one hand, all the while pressing the alarm panel down with the blade.

"That thing's got to weigh at least three pounds," Anna commented.

"Have you scientifically tested the tensile strength of chewing gum, Anna?"

"What do you think? I know chewing gum can't hold a five pound dumbbell."

"All about surface area, sweetheart," E.J. said. She spat the chewing gum into her hand and flattened the gooey mess across the tiny square panel, smushing it in place until the gum stuck to the outer edges and held the alarmed counterweight panel in place. As if the tiara had never even moved.

"Very good, but you've still only got a minute and a half before security shows back up," Anna said, chucking their bags and pilfered precious stones up into the open vent of the duct system.

Thirty seconds later, E.J. stood before her, tiara twirling on her finger.

"Show off," Anna muttered, placing a boot in E.J.'s intertwined hands. E.J. boosted her skyward, then passed the tiara up to Anna.

"You adore it."

"You shouldn't indulge me. Or, spoil me, for that matter," Anna said, carefully placing the tiara atop her head.

"But you wear it so well! You're sure you've never fancied yourself in some little known royal family somewhere? Invaded State functions? Crashed coronations?" E.J. asked, pulling her foot into the duct just as the jingle of keys from the security guard could be heard down the hallway.

"No, but I do have a tediously detailed family tree I manufactured going back generations into Prussia that keeps me pretty stable as an eccentric duchess. If I ever need to get into upscale European parties, you know."

"Of course, why wouldn't you?"

They paused at the junction of the duct just as Anna's watch beeped, signaling the silent alarm that had doubtlessly been triggered behind them.

"That's my cue," Anna said.

E.J. tossed over her own collected prizes from the evening.

"I've got your harness in the rafters, and I've double looped the anchor cord to the fire escape. Remember, the load-bearing carabineer—"

"E.J., stop worrying. You've shown me a hundred times, I got it," Anna insisted. "The taxi's waiting for me now. Go give them your alibi, and I'll see you in the morning."

"Right, hurry then," E.J. said, angling toward the left turn in the duct, Anna toward the right.

"Hey, I love you," Anna said. Anna pressed a quick kiss to E.J.'s cheek. The pair of girls sat on all fours in the ducts, the space not quite conducive to cozy departing exchanges.

"You, too. I'll see you in a few hours."

They parted ways in the corridor, E.J. speeding through the passages with knowledgeable and practiced ease. She silently popped the grate to the side vent in the ladies' room, careful to bring down the bottle of club soda Anna had placed there two days prior during the initial recon of the place. She flipped quietly down into the empty corner stall and held her gown in hand, black clothing gone, underthings covered by a shimmery satin slip. She poured the club soda onto the stained dress and wiped furiously with toilet paper, listening to flushes and faucets, the awkward conversation of offered lotions and towels from the bathroom attendant.

"Well, this is a disaster," E.J. grunted, emerging in naught but her slip from the stall.

The attendant double-taked, furrowing her brow at E.J.'s half-dressed state.

"Miss, did you—"

"Do you have another bottle of club soda? I'm trying to do what I can for the stain, but I fear it's ruined."

"No, miss. I can go ask the bartender, if you need it—"

"No, no that's quite alright. That blaring nonsense outside, and the dress, I think the universe is conspiring against me."

"That sounds like the building alarm—"

"Fire?" E.J. asked anxiously. "We need to get out of here!"

"I don't think so—"

"Well, I'm not sticking around to find out. I've been in this bathroom wrestling with the gown long enough. Could you help me get it zipped back?"

E.J. stepped into the silk and the attendant zipped her in tightly. As she exited the restroom, cacophony filled her ears: people were confusedly spinning, security was swarming, and sirens were blaring from outside the foyer, drowning out the stubborn strings music.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a uniformed officer stood at the entrance of the building, holding his hands up over the crowd for attention. "Someone triggered the silent alarm in the lower secure area, and several pieces have turned up missing. As per protocol, we are treating these events as a robbery in progress. If you could all be patient and answer any questions our officers have, we can get this whole affair wrapped up shortly."

During the collective gasp of the Chicago upper-crust, E.J. bit back a groan. That was the thing about going straight: she had to show face and deliver a convincing cover story. Couldn't just slip out like a thief in the night.

Because she wasn't that anymore. A thief in the night.

Mulling over the too-appropriate metaphor, E.J. spent the next three hours waiting for her statement to be taken: "Just ask the congressman, or the restroom attendant, my dress was ruined by one of the servers! I was in the ladies room when I head the sirens, and no, I didn't see anything. I was nowhere near the lower levels! I've been covered in alcohol for the last five hours and would like nothing more than to go home and change. If we could wrap this up, officer?"

It took another hour for the taxi to get her to the private airfield, but thank goodness Dennis had everything prepared for the jet.

"Rough night, E.J.?"

"You wouldn't believe it. Clear skys to Memphis? Anna caught a Delta flight down a few hours ago."

"Smooth sailing, on the forecast and instrument readings. And thanks again for this chauffeuring gig, helping me log my final hours before I go trans-Atlantic."

"Of course. I had no desire to be piloting this late in the evening. Do we still have a change of clothes in the back cabin?

"I think Anna used them the last time we flew. Remember? She was sopping from that canoe trip you two were hell bent on taking."

E.J. sighed lethargically.

"We learned our lesson quickly enough, so no comments from the peanut gallery, okay?"

"Just sit back and get some shut eye, I'll buzz the intercom when we're ready to land," Dennis said with a salute. "They'll be a company car waiting to take you home when we arrive."

"Thank you, Dennis."

E.J. trudged, heavy-footed and bleary-eyed into her home, tossed her heels at the door, and tore the dress from her body. The dawning arc of the sun shined off the water and the steam-rolled delta land. Morning light dribbled in through the west-facing view in the mansion on Riverside Drive, motes of dust visible in the light streaks.

She tip-toed into her room and traded her slip for stretchy booty shorts and a black sports bra. Hair wound up in its usual braid, E.J. opened the windows and greeted the morning with Warrior one through four, and then went on to more advanced poses, stress melting off her shoulders like snowcones at the beach.

E.J. exhaled deeply, eyes opening to the view before her. Somewhat tragic, somewhat full circle, but beautifully serene all the same. The water rolled on and time ticked by, and her life seemed an illusion of anything she could have dreamed up five years previously.

After an easy cool down, she rolled her shoulders to work out any lingering kinks, and headed into the kitchen to measure out the grounds for the morning coffee. With a wave of her hand she activated the preset timer, knowing Anna would be up in a few hours.

She yanked the bra from her torso and collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to tunnel under the covers.

E.J. was still more than a little stressed about the repercussions of her presence during the Chicago theft, as well as plans to move forward on the children's home in Ghana. There had been backlash from the school board about the selected curriculum in the NOLA home not integrating with the national Common Core, and she'd have to finagle with that Southside senator sometime soon. She felt tense, internally discombobulated from her trans-Atlantic flight, and maybe a little sore from not stretching properly prior to her excursion in the vents. She was dog-tired, and utterly unprepared for the newspaper interview the following morning.

Anna rolled over on the other side of the mattress, muttering in her sleep. She grunted, and tossed the sheet toward E.J.'s body, snuggling (as was her habit) under E.J.'s left side. Somehow, her right arm settled into position on Anna's hip, and E.J.'s mind stopped swirling. She was jetlagged. She was stressed. Nervous, and definitely a little overwhelmed with all the events piling up around her.

But in her bed, in her home, with her love in her arms, she was also outrageously, indescribably happy.

I've developed a new genre: huff. Stand for, heist/fluff. Or maybe fleist? Which sort of sounds like an improperly articulated dog-breed, but whatever. Read on for Anna's pov of the epilogue, and reviews appreciated!