Disappearing Act

iv.

It was a packed house on the evening of the performance with audiences clamoring for the Snow Queen and the Illusionist, their chatter and shouting echoing beneath the big top.

Children clambered over each other to get into the front rows, their little hands grasping at the air as the stage hands set up the props for Elsa's performance. Those who had seen it before shrieked and babbled with excitement at the familiar items – a lit candelabra, a large bowl of water, a plain blue cloak – and those who were about to watch it for the first time peered at the same objects with mildly curious looks, and then at their pocket watches.

Hans and Elsa stood together behind the curtain, both outfitted in their best attire for the evening, their eyes locked.

"You remember the plan?" he asked. "I'll come and get you towards the end of my act, and then—"

"Yes, I remember," she said. "You'll lead from there. And I'm not to ask any further about it."

"Good. Now get out there, and make this last one count," he said, looking at her still-gloved hands. "Show them your gift."

She swallowed, and folded them against her chest.

"Hans..."

"What is it?"

"I—" she trailed off, and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry for making you do this," she said at length. "I know you don't want to, and... there's a part of me that doesn't want to go, even though I know I must."

He placed a hand on her shoulder to calm her; when her exhalations softened, he brought it back in front of her, unfurling his fingers to reveal her snowflake pin.

She blinked. "Hans, when did you...?"

He grinned. "Just now. From behind your ear." At her frown, he continued in a more serious way: "You're not 'making' me do anything, Elsa. I agreed to this – to help you – and so I will." He placed the pin in her palm and curled her fingers around it, giving her a small smile. "Of course I wish that I could have your company for a little while longer, but I know I can't keep you here. None of us can."

Her eyes welled with tears, but she swallowed them back, and pinned the snowflake to the side of her long braid. When she looked at him again, she was smiling. "Thank you," she said as she removed her gloves, wiping away any trace of weeping from her cheeks. "I should go, now."

"Yes," he agreed. "You should."

When she opened her mouth to speak again, he placed one hand in front of her lips. "I won't wish you luck," he said. "You don't need it."

Her eyebrow rose, and she took his hand, lowering it to the side. She glanced down for a moment, and then back up at him.

"No. But you do."

»» —— ««

He paced backstage, ignoring the looks of suspicion and resentment from the other performers preparing close by, his hands knitted together behind his back.

His heartbeat quickened with each exclamation of the crowd on the other side of the curtain, and as her act drew closer to its end, beads of sweat started to form on his forehead. He wiped them off in the next moment, exhaling; when he heard the last, full cheers from the audience, he finally paused in place at the side of the stage.

She took her last bow with a wide smile, her arms full of bouquets, and slipped behind the curtains as they were pulled to a close, her torso still bowed. When she looked to the side, their eyes met, and they stayed that way for a while as the stagehands moved around them to remove her props from the stage, and replace them with his.