I don't own Frozen. Stolen Ice is Aesla's creation, as are the characters within it.

A quietly snoozed, her head laid back against the couch back and hands in her lap. Jane sat on the other end of the couch, legs folded under her.

The dull glow from the muted TV screen mixed with the dim grey light the storm outside let through. The sun had set, but a full moon kept an eerie, quiet light from behind the clouds. The rain brought up fog in the lake, which spread to the woods and enveloped A's house in Natchitoches.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Rain tapped on the windows. It masked the sound of Jane's tapping on her tablet. The tablet A had gotten for her. It wasn't as thin as she'd like it to be, and had unnecessary accessories like a CD player and external plugs. A had supplied earbuds with the tablet, along with three mixed CDs. Jane had spent the rest of the day on the outside balcony listening to a mixed selection of songs by "MJ", as A lounged (tanning, she called it) nearby. Jane's favorite so far was titled Black or White.

A surprised her the next day with a tablet matching the exact specifications Jane said she preferred. Jane surprised herself by turning it down. A feeling she recognized as sentiment stopped her from accepting it. Liabilities. Inefficiency.

Why isn't that bothering me as much as it should?

She had kept her attention divided well enough between the tablet and the TV when A was awake in order to keep up with conversation, but with A asleep Jane didn't feel the need to keep up with the plot of Game of Thrones. A would explain everything next episode anyways. She tabbed through link after useless link, trying to track Hans' aliases, checking news feeds, browsing airline passenger lists. Even with the return to New York planned in two days she felt compelled to continue her search. A had surely noticed Jane's divided attention, but hadn't said anything. Jane hadn't expected her to, either. Without it needing to be said A knew when it was or was not okay to prod Jane, reading Jane's mood (or body, Jane noticed occasionally) subconsciously, it seemed. She really was the perfect hostess.

I hope I can be as good a hostess while we're in New York.

Jane sighed and set the tablet down, stretching her torso and arms upwards. Her ribs had finally stopped complaining about her exercises. The movement stirred A, who adjusted slightly but did not wake. Jane caught herself glancing at A, taking note of the girl's denim shorts, a frequent choice of wear. It was also frequently on Jane's mind, she noticed, while A was wearing them. Something to take note of, she decided. Picking up her tablet again, she opened a word document and began typing a new journal entry through gloved fingers.

Typing on her tablet in front of a muted screen as it rained outside, grey light inside and grey light out, Jane could feel the muted pressure of loneliness filling the room.

"..mm.." A murmured, and Jane twitched. "..mm.." A murmured again, her head shaking slightly. Jane couldn't read A's face, but the girl looked bothered. Unhappy? "..won't bring your money back.."

Jane sighed. "A, you're sleep-talking again." She wasn't sure what kind of response she was expecting.

"..you're upset.." A mumbled.

"No." Jane replied, lowering her voice. "I'm not."

"Comrades, remember.."

"Sure. Comrades." Jane returned to typing on her tablet, somewhat grateful for A's nonsensical mumbling. It was like training wheels for conversation.. a crutch that made things easy and painless but would have to be abandoned once the time came.

"We were going to be friends, Jane..." So much for painless. Jane felt the mood turn troubled, turning to look at A. A's cheek twitched, and the girl shuddered. Instinctively A brought in her limbs, as if she were suddenly cold. Jane could see moisture collecting under A's eyelids... a thin trail threatening to break free.

What do you say to someone sleeping and crying?

Jane was completely out of her element. A was being unconsciously candid. It stirred Jane to offer her own bit of hopefulness.

"...we are, A. We are going to be friends."

"A pipe dream..." A whispered, her head coming forward and the thin trail of a tear slipped down her cheek. Jane recognized her own words, thrown in A's face in Ursula's office. Was A dreaming about that moment? She could remember A's face. A kept whispering. "I would never, you would never..."

But I did.

She had read it in A's face. Now it appeared like a ghost, traces of it found in the face of the girl beside her. Jane thought she'd left the moment behind. Acknowledge and move on. A had agreed, saying nothing. Her subconscious seemed to think differently. A was having a nightmare- no, a troubled dream, Jane assured herself. Just a troubled dream.

What was it that A had done when Jane broke down, weeping in front of her? The girl had gathered her up in her arms, let Jane clutch at her, sniffle, sob. Jane gathered up her courage, watching A, making a plan of attack, executing it with care.

She gently slid a hand around A's head and grasped her shoulder, pulling the girl slowly onto her side, until A's head was nestled up against Jane's leg, nearly in her lap but thankfully not- that would have been too much for Jane right now.

Jane rested a gloved hand on A's shoulder and squeezed- that was what you did, right?- her other hand gently thumbing the tears off A's face. It took a few minutes, but soon A was sleeping soundly right as rain again. The tactile sensation of A's cheek on her thigh didn't even bother Jane. In fact Jane felt.. satisfied. Content. She returned to her tablet and took care to be as quiet as she could. It would be a few more hours until before her own internal clock would call for rest. The spectre of loneliness did not return.

Tomorrow would be their last chance before the bright lights of city nights would illuminate the stars away. She would take A up to the roof and they would stargaze until sleep called them inside.