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Punch-Drunk Love

Chapter 22: epilogue

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Anna goes 3-2 in her next five fights, celebrating each win and loss as though it’s her first. She lays it all down in the ring. Just needing to confirm the demons of her past are truly dead - until her mother calls again and she realises there’s one last thing to know for sure. 

She embraces Iduna outside the imposing barred gates of MDC Brooklyn. 

“You’re very brave,” Iduna clutches her like she’s seeing Anna for the last time, “I don’t even think I-” 

“I learnt it from you,” Anna inhales her familiar scent, hoping it provides the strength for her biggest fight yet, “besides - it’s only bravery if I’m scared, remember? There’s really nothing to be afraid of anymore. He’s behind bars. He can’t hurt me. Or us.” 

She squeezes her mother’s hand one more time, before departing on the long walk into the Dragon’s lair. Passing through rumbling gates and blaring alarms that signal her descent into the dungeon. She sits before a pane of bulletproof glass reserved for maximum security visitors. Eyes fixed on a solitary cell door on the other side and her own quaking reflection. Despite biting back her bubbling trepidation, the sight of Agnarr getting led into the cell still makes her curl. 

Her widened gaze waters at his appearance. Khaki detention overalls. Handcuffs. Unshaven. Eyes that bear a shattered existence written into each one of the same blue irises reflected across from his. She hyperventilates a few breaths, trying to push away the surging panic as the imposing figure sits inches from her face. Straight-lipped expression like nothing she’s ever seen him wear. He picks up the phone, and she hears his raspy breaths on the other end. 

“D-dad.” 

“Anna.” 

He stares directly at her, burning gaze only appearing to look over her shoulder. It takes all the strength she’s built in the past year to look him straight in the eyes. 

“Look, Anna - I-I frankly didn’t expect you’d want to see me after all this while,” Agnarr smooths his dishevelled crop of hair, “so I’m at a bit of a loss-” 

The fear boils away, before glowing hot with simmering rage. 

“W-why didn’t you think I wanted to see you?” 

“After everything I did to you,” he looks down, “and mom.” 

She grips the table. Whitened shaking knuckles visible to them both. Every little angry word she’s rehearsed. Fuck you. Pathetic Monster. How’d you like the showers here, you asshole. They all drain from her brain in a split second. 

“So you admit that,” Anna pinches her forehead, “Look, I don’t even know where to begin-” 

“The thing about prison,” Agnarr sighs, “it gives you a lot of time to think-” 

“Oh, right, thinking,” Anna butts her head against the glass, fogging beneath the breath of her sarcasm, “you thought so fucking hard that you shanked your cellmate in Quentin.” 

“I don’t have to justify what I did,” Agnarr growls through the phone, “And if you’re here to belittle me I don’t need another minute of this. I have juries and judges to watch me eat shit all day-” 

“You’re wrong,” Anna cracks her knuckles, “I’m here to-I’m here to-”

Agnarr stays silent. Face turning granite cold. In that moment, Anna sees just how much her father has suffered. Wrinkled lines on his forehead. A scar across his neck. Eyes that have seen too much. Fuck him. 

“I’m here to prove that I don’t have to be afraid of you anymore.” 

He slouches back. The phone nearly drops from his hand. All at once her words appear to break him. 

“Oh, god - I’m - “ Agnarr looks away and rubs at his eyes, “I’m sorry. For everything. You don’t have to say a word-” 

“Dad, I-” 

“I’ve been going for anger management therapy, alcohol treatment,” Agnarr’s voice shakes, “we tell each other about the things we regret. And always, I’ll mention you. That is the one-” 

The thought throws Anna’s head back in mock laughter, “Anger management - what, is that something you do to earn more yard time?” 

“Well, yes. But the point remains,” Agnarr leans closer, “If I could have stopped being a drunken fool. If I could’ve been a better father. If I could’ve stopped myself from hitting your mother all those times. I would. But I can’t - and all that remains is the shattered pieces of our past. Without hope of forgiveness or reconciliation or whatever the fuck I don’t deserve. And then you show up-” 

“You don’t deserve forgiveness!” Anna slams the glass, and Agnarr flinches back. He coils in the chair, waiting to hear more of his daughter’s words cut him deep like it’s the only thing he deserves. 

“Maybe,” Anna sucks in a breath, alarmed at the tear trickling down her face, “Maybe not right now. Maybe not for a year, ten years. The rest of my life. I don’t know - but what you do deserve to hear is my gratitude.” 

Gratitude.” 

“You could’ve given me a soft, cushy life. But you didn’t,” Anna wipes away her tears, “And that only made me realise how strong I could be.” 

Anna hangs up. Shooting her father one last glare before turning to leave. 

Right as she reaches the door, she asks the prison officer, “Excuse me - what are the visiting hours here?” 

He taps at a sign: 12-3pm on weekdays. 8am-3pm on weekends. Great. 

The shaking in her hands fails to let up until she extricates herself from the dungeon’s depths and hurls her sobbing self into Iduna’s awaiting arms.


Apparently, Elsa’s first loss was a fluke. She goes 5-0 in amateur competition over the next year. Perhaps she’d learned not to make the same mistake too many times. Or-

“It’s you-” Elsa hugs Anna, not caring about the sweat dripping off her chin. Welts and bruises from a hard-fought match where she went the distance against a taller girl from Columbia. 

“Me, what on earth did I do?” Anna towels the sweat from Elsa’s face. 

“You-” Elsa kisses her cheek, as the redhead helps her from the ring, “you’re just being you, god-” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anna smiles, “but whatever it is, I just hope that-” 

“You’re enough, yes,” Elsa locks eyes with her. “Don’t forget.” 

Anna pulls up a folding chair before Elsa, helping unlace her gloves and handwraps. Throughout it all, she feels her burning, wordless stare burn into her face. Listens to that gentle heave of her chest and feels the entire locker room contract until it’s just the two of them. Dating? Girlfriends? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t care. Only wanting to read each text message from Elsa asking her for lunch. Randomly waiting outside her classroom just to sneak a midday kiss. Or watch her step over the ropes again and again. Making love to her afterwards and holding her until the morning breaks and there’s no one else but the two of them. 

“You’re staring again,” Anna mumbles. 

Elsa stifles a laugh, before her voice drops, “Sometimes I just - I just don’t know how you walked into my life.” 

“More like, I walked into yours-” 

“I can’t believe I didn’t pay attention to you the first time,” Elsa wipes her hands, “with just how beautiful you are-” 

“Pfft,” Anna sticks out her tongue, “you’re just saying that because Esmeralda’s not around today.” 

“No, no, it’s not because of her,” Elsa cups her face, “and besides, she’s training for her Pro-debut.”

“She’s going Pro? Oh now you’re making me suspicious,” Anna playfully swats her hands away, “why on earth did she tell you and not me?” 

“I wanted to keep it a surprise,” Elsa snatches her hands back, “because she’s having her first Pro fight in Havana.” 

Anna eyes perk up, “What, like Cuba?”

“Yes,” Elsa smiles, “it’s time we took a trip together, don’t you think?” 

The thought swirls in Anna’s imagination before she yelps in surprise. 

“Elsa Williams, I’d gladly travel to freaking Guantanamo Bay,” Anna kisses her with glee, “as long as it’s with you.”


Despite all the playful sparring they’ve engaged in, Esmeralda turns out to be a god at boxing. Right there beneath the translucent glow of a circus tent. Sweating like pigs, Anna stands and screams her lungs out as Esmeralda battles another Amazonian-looking woman. The crowd picks up on Anna’s cheering and joins in the ruckus. Their sheer volume drowning the pummeling these two women hurl at each other. 

“Last round!” Anna cheers, before letting loose the words which never failed to spur her on, “Let it all out!” 

Elsa however, looks nonplussed - eyes roving around the venue. 

“She said her girlfriend wore glasses, and looked…Cuban,” Elsa mumbles, unknowingly describing half the women in Havana. 

A roar breaks out, and she covers her mouth at Esmeralda’s opponent launching a last ditch offensive. Easily overwhelming the shorter girl, shelling herself off and weaving through the barrage of punches. Esmeralda’s drained; watery eyes and breaths venting through her open mouth. The ferocious assault lasts forever until she’s finally saved by the bell. 

“You did it!” Anna squeals. Elsa leaps to her feet. But it’s not enough. Five rounds of violence and despite trying her best to stem the relentless tide, Esmeralda loses a split decision. The effect is lost on her as she staggers to her corner. Still winded, but with a beaming smile on her sweat-soaked face. 

“Close one, you’ve nothing to be upset about,” Elsa reassures her, wrapping an arm around the woman. 

“I’m not - not upset,” Esmeralda heaves violently, gloved hands perched on the rope, “I’m just glad this is over - and happy I left everything behind.” 

Anna hops onto the ring and smothers her in a hug. Another woman. Boxing. Running away from the violence of her childhood and choosing to confront her demons like she did. 

“You’re a champion, Esse,” Anna towels her dry, “now, we’ve been looking all over for your girlfriend, I think an introduction is due, isn’t it?” 

“I’d love to show you,” Esmeralda gasps, “but she just beat the shit out of me-” 

What?” they cry in disbelief. 

A shadow approaches, towering over Elsa, “Are you two lovely ladies trying to steal my Esse away from me?” 

Esmeralda’s opponent hugs her by the hips and plants a kiss on her face. Twirling a last dance in the ring while the crowd falls silent. Before rabid cheering breaks out. 

“Ok, ok! Put me down! You’ve already broken my face in three places,” Esmeralda huffs, before turning to Elsa and Anna, “Girls, I’d like to introduce you to Moana.” 

Anna stands on the tips of her toes and kisses Moana on her sweat-glazed cheek. Before looking over at Esmeralda, and Elsa. The gentle warmth in their eyes connects with hers - each one telling the other a story of just how hard they’ve fought to break free from their ghosts. And found the love of their lives on the other side of the ropes.


“Who on earth sets fights in the morning?” Anna mumbles to herself in a dreary whisper. Her eyes struggle to open. Specks of dying sunlight thread through the lattice of her straw hat. She imagines hearing Rumba music in her ears, listening closely as it fades into the roar of an incoming tide. 

Anna sits up and watches the waves bring Elsa back, flicking blonde hair over her shoulder as she comes in from her swim. Oh god, look at her. Black bikini. Soaking wet with reddened cheeks from where she’d probably swam a mile while Anna lounged in the sun. She licks her lips, tasting the residual flavour of Mojitos they’d shared with Esmeralda and Moana at a Flamenco bar. 

The clench in Anna’s chest winds tighter as Elsa approaches. She wrings her hair into the sand. 

“You’re back,” Anna mumbles, “I had a nap.” 

“It’s getting dark,” Elsa points at the sunset, burnishing the sea in shades of gold and purple, “we should go back soon.” 

“But I like it here,” Anna purrs, turning to face Elsa as the breeze washes between them, “being with you.” 

“Glib tongue,” Elsa teases, tipping away Anna’s hat, just to see the evening’s glow in her eyes, “how ever am I going to keep the girls away from you?” 

She sits up and sighs as Elsa steals the answer right from her breath. Her stomach knots. Fingers trail along that strip of skin beneath Elsa’s abs. The blonde seizes at her touch, and it curls a smile against her lips. When Anna’s eyes flutter open again, she sees the sunset on her pale skin; and smells the sea in her breeze soaked blonde hair.

“I’m yours,” Anna promises, cupping Elsa’s face, “no one else-” 

“Do you mean it, or is this something you’re saying to get in my pants?” 

“I didn’t think you were the sort who needed convincing,” Anna pulls her down, “admit it - you can’t keep your hands off me.” 

Elsa looks down, and blushes at the truth of Anna’s claim. Her hands have already wandered up Anna’s ribs. Perched just shy beneath the fabric of her green bikini top. 

“No,” Elsa whispers into her lips, before kissing her back so hard that they slump into the beach towel, “I can’t. Not with you.” 

A surge of warmth overwhelms Anna as kisses dot down her neck. She retains her lucidity long enough to look over Elsa’s shoulder. No one watching. Fingers lace through her wet hair. She’s desperate now. Fighting a rapidly losing battle to refrain from throwing the blonde back and mounting her. But she waits in agony. Bating her breath as Elsa runs her lips over her collarbone. Her own fingers straying further south and ghosting over the black fabric of Elsa’s bikini bottoms. 

Anna bites her lips as she detects a tremble coursing through Elsa. A sensation familiar to her: the point of no return. When desire takes over Elsa and she’d tear into her like a lioness going for her prey. When she’d do literally anything to sate her lust. Even fingering her in a dimly-lit diner booth. Oral sex on a hotel balcony. Fucking on a public beach. And now, as Elsa’s lips wander down each freckle dotting her chest, the realisation strikes her cold that she’s not going to stop. The heat pools to a point below her belly. Sharpening her senses to every fevered whimper they breathe. Elsa’s nipples strain against her wet bikini top. In her state, the slightest brush of salt-caked skin curls her toes into the sand. Threatening to make her explode.

“Elsa, please,” Anna moans, hands clamping on her head. 

“What?” Elsa murmurs. 

The answer shatters in a gasp as Elsa tugs down the fabric of Anna’s bikini top. Lips closing around the nipple concealed within. 

“There’s no one watching, at least for a mile,” Elsa whispers, swirling a tongue as it hardens against her, “don’t tell me you’re afraid.” 

Afraid? 

The word slips between the cracks of her arousal-clouded consciousness. Fingers push against Elsa’s bottoms. Warmth blossoms across her chest as Elsa works on her other breast. Anna finally gathers the courage to slip beneath Elsa’s bikini. Relishing the soft moan that burns in her ear. Lighting her heart on fire like the rest of her body. Right before she combusts into a flaming bonfire of lust, Anna thinks about every lesson she’s learned at the end of Elsa’s lips. Her fists. Their heartbreaks and laps spent running around each other just to find the same pair of arms again. 

“No, I’m not afraid anymore.”

 

Notes:

A/N: thanks for reading! once again - huge shoutouts to Volksparadox who started their own boxing!Elsanna fic, and this was partially a reflection of my own journey with regards to the sport.

I might be taking a break from writing for this fandom for awhile just based on how drained I feel but we all know this is a promise I likely will not be able to keep. I feel that there's really no point contributing anymore because no one's going to read it anyway. Perhaps it's only the big names that really deserve any attention for their works and no matter how hard I try, it's just going to be endless stories shot out into the dark. I'm just so tired.

But thanks for all the supportive comments you've been giving! Love you all a bunch.

Notes:

updates on Sunday!