11. Dislocate

"I love you, Elsa."

"I love you, Elsa."

"I love you, Elsa."

All day, whenever she can get a moment alone, Anna lets the little chant fall off her tongue. It feels wonderful, really. Natural and inevitable. Anna will be shelving vases or sweeping out the storeroom, and the words will leak through her lips, leaving the entire inside of her mouth airy and sweet.

But then, immediately, she'll whirl around to make sure no one is sneaking up behind her with a microphone and camera.

Paranoia is all it is. She could pass off the statement as almost anything. I love you, Elsa, but will you please get your clothes off my side of the bedroom? I love you, Elsa, but it's really annoying when you sing for an hour in the shower. I love you, Elsa, for sharing your chocolate with me. I love you, Elsa; you're my sister. Yet Anna can't shake the feeling that someone will know if they hear her say it. Even once. Completely out of context. They'll know.

For weeks she scours the Internet, looking for countries where an incestuous relationship would be legal. Where an incestuous lesbian relationship would be legal. It's hard getting the information, especially when Anna is not fully convinced that the NSA isn't going to expand its area of interest beyond possible terrorist activity.

And even if a relationship with Elsa could be legal in some other country, it doesn't mean it would be…widely approved of. Not to mention the idea of living in another country is terrifying. How much is Anna willing to give up for this?

One article she stumbles upon links to a promising, clean-looking forum—which goes by the nebulous acronym GSA for "genetic sexual attraction." Unfortunately they want a fifteen dollar membership fee, and Anna is leery of internet sites asking for money. And she doesn't have a credit card anyways.

Having exhausted that route without much success, (she loses her nerve before she can dig too deeply into Reddit or the Yahoo forums) she turns to the seemingly simpler task of convincing Elsa they are highly compatible soulmates. Before long she's lost in the world of personality tests and relationship advice books.

The love books tell her that everyone is either a bully or wimp. Or that she and Elsa need to be compatible on 19 distinct personality factors. The online love tests are nearly useless unless she can trick Elsa into filling them out with her. But they're better than nothing, so she settles for guessing what Elsa might answer. When one personality quiz tries to compare her to a desert, she finally gives up.

But not before reading a description of Elsa as mousse.

In her desperation, she starts believing in ridiculous things. She's always been a bit of an optimistic, but she's never crossed the line into pathetic, windmill-fighting quixotism (at least that's what she'd like to believe) until now. Then, one Saturday, she finds herself searching through the clovers in their backyard, looking for four leaves. Elsa comes out to join her, and Anna has to stop herself from asking her if she wants to run away together. When Bobby across the street has a birthday party, she nearly crashes the five-year-old's birthday party so she can blow out his candles and steal his wish.

Things are stable with Elsa. They spend a lot of time in their room, on the window seat, talking, looking out at the backyard. It starts out some time after dinner, they'll lean up against opposite ends of the alcove and play footsie for leg room.

"Your shin is hard," Elsa complains after a particularly rough battle.

"My shins are hard?" Anna retorts, rubbing said shin gingerly. "Your kicking is brutal!"

"Sorry," her sister apologizes. Elsa bites her bottom lip and reaches out a tentative hand.

"I'm fine," Anna says quickly.

"Are you sure?"

"Don't worry about me," Anna smirks. "Worry about yourself." Her next double-footed kick unseats Elsa completely.

"Mmmpf!" Elsa yelps indignantly from the floor. "Jerk." Beneath mussed up bangs, her eyes narrow.

Anna sticks out her tongue out, and then suddenly remembers– "Oh yeah! So today, at work, there was this guy—"

Though usually within a few hours, the mood shifts.

Maybe they put on old Powerpuff Girls episodes from Netflix and Anna' s slouching because she's kind of wiped out. And maybe as she sinks, she finds her skull inexplicably pressed against Elsa's shoulder, because, for whatever reason, maybe Elsa's moved a little closer to the center of the seat. And maybe they just get closer and closer, until they're pressed together body on body. And maybe since it's chilly at night and neither of them want to get up for a blanket, they snuggle deeper still into each other.

Anna wonders if this is the right thing to do. She never comes up with a satisfactory answer, so she just does it anyways.

After work, Anna sits in her car, trying to think of a good text to send Elsa. Something that's maybe a little flirty but not blatantly so. Warm but not aggressively so. Something Elsa can spend a long time staring at when she gets it on her phone. Not that Anna does that. Not at all.

Hey, I'm coming home. :)

For nearly a minute, she agonizes over the smilie. Elsa never uses emoticons in her texts. Does she think Anna's stupid or childish?

Thunk!

Anna throws herself right, onto the passenger seat, whirling to face the attacker at her window. Her arms fly up defensively over her face and her heart burns from the adrenaline rush. "What the—"

"Alright, Freckly-Face, I've given you enough time to recuperate from your love drama. I want in," Rapunzel demands, her voice muffles and faint through the glass. In retrospect, she's not very threatening, barely tall enough to get her entire face up to the glass.

"Rapunzel! I thought you were a serial killer!" Still shaking slightly, she picks her phone up, pulls herself back up to a sitting position, and rolls down the window.

"In daylight?" Rapunzel scoffs, "in a parking lot?"

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to park next to big suspicious-looking vans?"

"So you're not parked next to a van. Why are you still so spazzy?"

"One could have pulled up," Anna argued.

"Without your noticing?" Rapunzel remarked skeptically.

"I noticed something!" she retorted.

A single dismissive eyeroll. "Do big suspicious-looking vans normally knock on your windshield?"

"You know what I mean!" Anna sighs. "What do you want?"

"I told you already. I want in."

"In…?" Anna spread her hands impatiently.

"In your car for one thing. It's annoying talking to you from two feet down," Rapunzel griped.

"Whatever," Anna huffs, but she unlocks the truck doors.

She watches uncomfortably as Rapunzel scurries past the front of the truck and hops through the passenger side door. There's no way Rapunzel's just stopping by to say hi.

"Alright," Rapunzel says as she settles into the seat, "spill."

"Spill what?" Anna stalls. "How did you even know I was here?"

"I asked Elsa where you were—"

"You asked Elsa?" Flabbergasted, it's all Anna can do not to demand every detail of their interaction.

"Yes." Then, at the sight of Anna's frozen astonishment, she adds drolly, "She is my cousin. She's been my cousin longer than she's been your sister."

Brain still misfiring on the fact that, oh yeah, Elsa does interact with other people, Anna explodes in a fit of illogical possessiveness, "No, she wasn't!"

"I'm older by three months. Thus, I've been related to her for three months longer." Anna might choke on disbelief and die. "Now, will you stop avoiding the subject and talk already?" Rapunzel presses.

Opting to avoid a little longer, Anna babbles, "Subject, what subject? Are those new pants?"

"Yes! Now quit that and tell me about what happened with Kristoff!"

With a nonchalant shrug, she fixes her gaze out the windshield. "Nothing happened with Kristoff."

"That's the problem!" Rapunzel erupts. "There were supposed to be fireworks! What happened to fireworks?"

"Says who?" protests Anna. "Says you? I mean who are you to tell me that I have to date him?"

"I'm your cousin. You haven't lived a day when I wasn't your cousin!" Rapunzel interjects. "Why did you turn him down? Come on, Anna, I know it's a big step, but why the hell not?"

"I didn't want to. I'm not into him like that!"

"Well, who are you into? You've never even dated anyone. Who else are you going to date? You two are like perfect for each other."

"I don't want to date anyone," Anna lies stiffly. "And Kristoff and I are friends. It would be weird to be anything else."

"You don't know unless you try," Rapunzel advises breezily.

"I don't want to try, and I already know." This would be a great moment to come out to Rapunzel. She opens her mouth to do it, but the words die in on her tongue. The sun diffracts across her windshield, leaving Anna exposed and public.

"God, Anna, you can be so close-minded sometimes." At that accusation, the girl in question can't help but strangle herself on a tortured laugh. "I'm serious," Rapunzel adds. "It's like you're so scared of what might happen, you won't take a shot on him."

"I don't want to date him," Anna grinds out. "What are you? My mother?"

"What reason do you have for not dating him?"

"He's my best friend!"

"Great. So you guys already get along. Why not see if you have any chemistry?"

Rapunzel's tenacity is giving Anna a headache. "Don't you think I would have noticed any chemistry by now?"

"Not with your attitude." Frustration percolates through Rapunzel's usual armor of cheerfulness. "You broke the guy's heart, Anna. You should have seen his face. I thought he was going to cry."

Turning away towards to the driver's side window, Anna mutters, "I don't like him like that. Was I supposed to pretend?"

"You're hiding from me, Anna!" Rapunzel half-shouts. "You keep talking in these circles, and you keep avoiding me. Maybe you're embarrassed to like him, but you don't have to hide it from me." Rapunzel's voice hits a shrill, brittle note. "You don't have to ignore all my texts and run away or whatever. Forget Kristoff, why are avoiding me? You've been so weird this summer. I mean if it's not heartsickness, what the hell is it?"

In that instant, Anna nearly spills it out all over the dashboard of her car. I love Elsa. That stupid chant that's been fluttering in the back of her throat for weeks. What a relief it would be. Like finally throwing up after trying to hold in all the way across Colorado. Anna still remembers that road trip and the look of horror on Elsa's face as her skirt was splattered with the contents of Anna's stomach. The way she'd kept stroking Anna's head all the way to the rest stop anyways.

I love her. She says it out loud, "I love her." Oh god, she's lost her mind.

"You love who?"

Irrationally afraid of Rapunzel's face, she leans her forehead against the steering wheel. "I-I like girls, Rapunzel. I think-I'm gay." It's so much harder this time, and Anna doesn't understand why. For Kristoff it had felt more like a peace offering. For Elsa, simply a confirmation. For Rapunzel, it's a declaration. Kristoff would have kept it to himself. Elsa would never push her—not with the fragile state of their present relationship. But Rapunzel will make her face it. There's no going back now.

"Oh. Oh. Really, Anna?"

"…yeah."

"Well…" Rapunzel finally responds, "I can work with that."

"Please don't," Anna begs. It only takes a peek to confirm the wicked grin spreading across Rapunzel's face.

"Who's 'her'?"

"No one." Mentally kicking herself for answering too quickly, she plasters a blank look on her face.

"Yeah, right," Rapunzel scoffs. "Don't worry, I'll get it out of you."

Anna is an idiot.

By the time she escapes home, she's officially wiped out too.

"Long day at the office?" her father teases at the dinner table.

"Huh?" She glances up from her plate of roast beef. "Oh, yeah." From her left side, something nudges her foot. She glances at Elsa, who offers her a concerned eyebrow smile and a cocked eyebrow.

"I'm fine," she assures, a little ball of warmth expanding against the confines of her chest. "Just shelved out."

"Any plans for the weekend?" their mother asks.

"Uh, I think Rapunzel wants to hang out."

"That's good." Oh, it is definitely not good, but Anna doesn't say that. She's said enough for one lifetime. "How about you, Elsa? Are you and Hans doing anything?"

The pressure against Anna's calf and foot jerks away suddenly as Elsa shuffles in her seat. "Um, no. I don't think so. We broke up."

"What? When?" Anna's father gets there before his younger daughter.

"Uh, Monday, actually."

"How?" Their mother breaks in. "Why didn't you tell us? What happened?"

"What did he do?" their father practically growls.

"Nothing! Nothing happened. He didn't do anything," Elsa interrupts. "I just couldn't see a future with him," something catches in Anna's throat, "so I thought I'd better end it."

"Well, are you sure?" Lena Arendelle asks carefully.

"Yes, I'm sure."

Elsa speared a green bean with her fork.

"Do me a favor," her father says during a Geico commercial, "make sure Elsa's alright. You know she'll never tell me if anything's wrong otherwise."

"I'm sure she's okay," Anna replies as noncommittally as she can manage.

"I worry about her. Your mother does too. Only she worries more that I'm 'sheltering' her or something," he huffs.

"Elsa can take care of herself. She's better now. Not that she was bad before, but she's, you know, more confident now."

"I know. She's going off to college. And I don't want Hans trying anything while she's there."

"I don't think he'll start anything," Anna put in with a generosity she didn't know she had. "He seems alright."

Her father grunts noncommittally.

Anna has lost her third game of Jenga when she finally works up the nerve to enquire, "So what happened with Hans?"

"Nothing. I just didn't want to be a hypocrite," Elsa replies as she nudges piece out of its place in tower.

"How very cryptic," Anna mutters, tapping at each block experimentally.

"I couldn't see myself with him. So there wasn't a point."

"Are you sure? You know I—"

"I'm sure, Anna," Elsa cuts in with uncharacteristic impatience. "Trust me. I already got the shakedown from, Mom. I know what I'm doing."

"Okay," Anna replies, a little taken aback. "I'm sorry. I just-"

Elsa sighs loudly. "I'm sorry. I'm snapping at you for no reason. I don't really want to talk about it."

"That's okay," Anna says amiably. "So, uh. Make anything new lately."

"Not really," Elsa half-mumbles, half-grunts. "I've been kind of slow lately. Not feeling really motivated. I've mostly been helping Geppetto out with his woodwork."

"Yeah? How's that?"

"Good."

She's asking stupid questions, questions she doesn't even want to know the answers to.

What does this mean for us? her fingers drum against the wooden blocks. But she's afraid of the answer she catches in Elsa's evasive eyes.

Nothing. Just be my sister, Anna. Don't ruin this.

Whatever "this" is, Anna thinks she might be sick.

"Ready for the register?" Ella asks excitedly Monday morning.

"Yep. So ready. I've got this. I totally know what I'm doing." Anna bobs her head with great certainty.

"You mean you won't need my help?" Ella pouts, turning away theatrically. "Well, in that case, I guess I'll just—"

"Wait! Maybe I need a refresher!" Anna panics a little.

"Really? But you seemed so sure a second ago."

"Well," Anna harrumphed, puffing her chest out like a pelican, "a quick review of the basics, you know, just to confirm the, uh, basics."

"Whatever you say, superstar." The blonde plays along, tossing off a quick shrug.

But then Anna can't hold her dignified bluster much longer and breaks down snorting. With a wide loose smile, Ella sweeps over to the cash register.

"Okay, so for a purchase you just press this button, scan the barcode here. Clothes hangers go in the bin." For emphasis, Ella kicks the cardboard box. She gestures at a little grey plastic device with weird depression in the middle. "This is for taking the tags off. You just pop it into the slot and it comes off and you throw it over there. Put the items in a bag—we only have plastic."

After giving the plastic bags a friendly punch, Ella swoops over to the computer. Anna has to press her back up against the register to give her space, not that Ella notices. "After you've got everything rung up, click the yellow button, or you can use crtl+p. Then if they pay with cash, this is for the drawer." She taps the little lever. "Cards you just tell them to swipe themselves. If something doesn't go through it's probably just some old lady who thinks that swiping it slowly will give the machine more time to read it. Usually I just swipe it for them. Faster that way. Uhhh, let's see," Ella swivels, scanning the counter for anything she might have missed, "if an old lady comes in with her checkbook, you need a driver's license or some ID. Other than that…smile and be nice. Got it?"

A sudden, blinding smile.

"Yeah…I guess."

"Oh, don't look so worried, Anna. You'll be an expert in no time. You don't even need to do any returns yet."

Still feeling like she's been smacked by a Mac truck, Anna nods dumbly.

In spite of the intimidating volume of information dumped over her head, she manages to stay above water all morning. A few customers are short with her, several are too distracted to notice her, but a surprising majority seem charmed by her cheery, if somewhat frazzled, grin.

Though her cheeks from smiling, Anna refuses to let them sag. It would be rude to smile at one customer and give the next a blank stare—did all those people think she never noticed the way their faces closed at when Elsa shuffled up to the counter? Did they think it didn't hurt?

"Try not to smash the scanner, Hulk," Ella comments dryly.

"Huh?"

"You set that down kind of hard there."

"Oh, yeah, sorry." Anna gives the scanner an apologetic pat on the head. Not its fault that people are crappy. "I was distracted."

"Hey, you want to hang out after we're done?"

"Uh, sure. What did you want to do?"

"I dunno. We're in a mall, Anna. I'm sure we'll find something to do."

Anna hesitates. "I have to let my parents know I'll be late." This is, after all, Ella Cinders, middle school mean-girl-extraordinaire. Does Anna actually trust her? It's one thing to be cordial and friendly at work—if Anna's learned one thing about being a politician's daughter, it's how to shake every hand an return every smile—but another to be friends with this girl again. She'd called Kristoff names and turned her nose up at Elsa. But that was a long time ago.

Anna believes in second chances, in human kindness, in the benefit of the doubt.

"Sure though," she agrees. "I'll just call home."

"Great!" With that, Ella disappears into the aisles.

Hey, so I banged this out mostly to make sure that readers know this story is still alive. Sorry if it's messy. I'm skipping over my usual (not so usual or excellent) re-read in favor of expediency. I was impatient to get this out. I've got a pretty good handle on where I want this story to go now, I think. And I've got a few weeks before my life gets plunged back into mania. Anyways, thanks for reading.