A/N: Quick reiteration of Selene's age of six years in this chapter.

"The First Day"

"Daddy! Daddy! Wake up! It's the first day of school!"

Of course it's not going to be an easy morning for Jack; none of the rousing guitar riffs and energetic drum beats that constitute Sabotage by Beastie Boys resounding from his phone…also known as his six o'clock alarm on its highest volume - nothing but the loudest and fastest to get his heavy sleeping ass out of bed.

With his right arm dangling off the mattress and his other sprawled out in the empty space to his left, his face firmly planted into the pillow (mouth oh-so-attractively wide open like a human fly-trap, naturally), and dressed in his usual hibernation attire of black pyjama pants and a well-used grey t-shirt, he looks the picture of someone enjoying the last five minutes of gloriously fluffy sleep before "Can't stand it, I know you planned it!" rouses him from his slumber into the concept that the rest of humanity calls a working day. Five minutes of beautiful sleep, and does he get it?

Nope, his alarm clock comes in the form of his three-and-a-half foot, platinum haired ball of energy masquerading as his daughter racing into his room and jumping on his bed, full of the joys of spring and the equivalent power of a fully-operational nuclear reactor. A few years ago it would have made him jump out of his skin, but he's pretty much used to it by now – especially when it's an important day like his birthday, her birthday, Christmas…

…first day in first grade…

"Five more minutes, kiddo…" he groggily mumbles into the fabric of his pillow, trying to hold onto every last bit of sleep that he can.

"No! You have to get up now! I don't want to be late!" she persists, and just for good measure subjects him to a horrendous set of bounces on the mattress.

He tries to ignore it, but it's no use. Selene's vocal assault coupled with the abrupt rise and fall of his head on the pillow every time she jumps forces his brain and body to concede defeat to the little terror, telling him there's no chance of extra sleep. Pushing himself from the mattress, he wipes a hand across his bleary face and checks the clock on his phone. Five fifty-five.

"You know…your first class doesn't start for two hours…" he groans, and twists round to shoot her a look of disbelief through squinted, unfocused eyes. He may be a heavy sleeper, but a freshly woken Jack is not pretty.

"Yeah," she says, meeting his gaze with her big ice-blue eyes as she smirks, "but you have to go to work too, Daddy."

Jack flops back onto his pillow and covers his face with his hands in groaning dread – his precocious little monkey is right. Another day of clocking in to a dead-end job, with sales targets to be met, costs to be saved and random people to be sweet-talked.

"Thanks for reminding me, snowflake...but you're right. Daddy should get up." he concedes, and pulls himself up so his back rests against the headboard – and Selene promptly scurries over to sit on his lap and rest her head on his chest. He kisses her scalp, trying to ignore the ticklish sensation on his nose – though she inherited her mother's stunning platinum shimmer, she also was the unwilling recipient of Jack's messy morning-hair genes, and it's no more evident in how it's frizzy, wavy, and all over the place.

"Daddy?" she asks, snuggled up against his chest.

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"Can I have the braids today, just like Aunty Anna?"

Jack smiles internally at her question. His sister-in-law has taken great pains to be as much a part of her niece's life as she can. While she knows that she can't change what happened, it doesn't stop her from attempting to be a positive female influence in Selene's life and a biological tie to her mother's side of the family – and the six year old has ostensibly picked up a few traits from her aunt, the signature twin-braids being one of them.

Anna once suggested a single braid, but Selene would have none of it – "no, Aunty Anna, I want braids like you!"

"Sure, I'll do them for you when you get dressed."

"Cool! Can I have fruit loops for breakfast too?"

"Are you sure? I was going to do pancakes and blueberries."

"OH! Can I have pancakes, blueberries and fruit loops?"

Jack chuckles to himself. There's no way she can fit all that into her stomach...but one of the traits she picked up from her aunt Emma was stubbornness. If she wants to have pancakes, blueberries and fruit loops, she's damn well going to try.

"Yeah, okay. It's your first day. Now go on and get ready, kiddo. Daddy needs to go and shower." he says, patting her back to force the point.

"You do, Daddy. You stink!" she giggles as she pries herself off his chest, shuffles off his lap and, cackling adorably, scampers out of the bedroom amidst a dropped jaw of feigned shock from her father.

"Yeah, you better run!" he calls after her. Shaking his head in amusement, he slides himself gingerly out of bed…and as he starts to spread his arms for possibly one of the most epic and needed stretches in existence…

"…I can't stand it, I know you planned it! I'ma set it straight, this Watergate…"

"Well, you were useful…" he narrows his eyes and mutters sarcastically at the alarm resounding from his phone, a painful reminder of the elusive last five minutes of happy dreaming before mind-numbing work.

An hour before show time and the mood in Casa Del Frost is decidedly frantic.

Well, for Selene at least.

Casually leaning on the kitchen counter, with his second cup of morning wake-the-fuck-up in his right hand, Jack chuckles loudly to himself as he observes his daughter race around the house like a headless chicken, completely freaking out.

See, breakfast was a relatively calm affair. She did indeed devour her pancakes along with her bowl of cereal – leaving the white-haired father with the distinct impression that she was powered by a miniature singularity – and the conversation held in between mouthfuls of food had largely been about how much she is looking forward to her first day at Arendelle Elementary, how she hopes that Alexander will be in her classes, and that she knows exactly what she's going to be wearing – her Captain Marvel T-shirt, denim pants and black sneakers, and wondering if her new teacher is going to like her twin braids.

Six years old and she already displays organisational skills rivalling that of most adults including her father – on the other hand, it doesn't surprise Jack in the slightest; Selene is fifty percent Elsa, after all. Organisation and order was her forte, while Jack used to exist in a state of controlled chaos. Two polar opposites that melded together to form an unstoppable whole…or so he thought.

However, all hell broke loose when he asked what pen she was going to bring to school, and the answer: her favourite Dora the Explorer pen….

…but the pen is missing…

…hence the unmitigated panic.

Jack knows exactly where it is, because it's where Selene always leaves it – inside her Dora the Explorer pencil case which sits happily inside her Dora the Explorer arts-and-crafts box in her room, but when nerves are high and panic is the order of the day, common sense tends to go flying out of the window at a similar speed with which Selene is overturning cushions on the sofa and scrambling under the dinner table.

"Daddy! What are you doing standing there!? Don't you know we are at DEFCON one and a half!? This is a code red, missing pen emergency!" she squeals as she rushes upstairs with rapid thuds.

Of course, Daddy is the island of calm in a sea of chaos for one reason and one reason only – he already went through a melancholic freak-out last night, and he's trying to drag the hilarious scene out for as long as possible.

Why? Aside from the fact that watching his daughter panic is actually quite adorable, he knows that as soon as she finds her pen, she'll calm down, and be ready to go to school…

…and soon she won't be his little girl any more.

It's the same realisation that hit him last night as he prepared sandwiches for her packed lunch, and it was potent enough to force him to lean against the dining table while he slowly came to terms with how fast his little girl is growing up. Today is first grade, then it'll be second grade in a year's time, then third…and before he knows it she'll be a teenager, a woman in her own right that attacks the school curriculum with all the determination and vigour that her mother did. She will have grown up, spread her wings and found her own way – and he'll be there every step of the way just like he was before, barring that awful few months when she was apart from him.

It's the sensation that a parent feels when they come face-to-face with the ephemeral aspect of the moment, the knowledge that no matter what they do, their children will age and grow and eventually leave, and it's a melancholy feeling that still sits in his stomach today.

Of course, he's proud of Selene – beyond proud, even. She is a precocious, intelligent, daring little soul that embodies the yearning for mental stimulation, focus and beauty of her mother (which still pricks at his heart to this day) and the energy, cheekiness and prankster qualities of her father – though, as the years went by he lost most of those aspects. He's just scared of how fast she is growing, and that soon she'll be off in college pursuing her desire to change the world…and he'll be all alone, clocking into a dead end job and existing.

She is his raison d'etre, and the idea that soon she won't need him anymore and will be following her own path scares the shit out of him – but that's the nature of life and youth. Eventually, all children find their wings and fly, and she will be no different. He can't stop it; he can only be there for her.

Swallowing down a lump in his throat with one final mouthful of coffee, he yells up the stairs – "Have you checked your art box?"

"Found it!" she victoriously and happily shouts back down, "it was in my art box!"

Shaking his head in amusement, he chuckles to himself as he places the empty coffee cup in the sink – there's no clink of a wedding band against the ceramic, and that hasn't been the case for over four years – and knows that moments like this are what makes single parenting worthwhile. Sure, it's hard and tough, there's tears and blood and sweat, but there's joy and laughter, smiles and cheers, and they're all his.

So, while being a parent may be the toughest job in the world (especially when you have to play mommy and daddy), it's also the most rewarding. Whatever it is she needs to know, he'll be there to tell her.

Well…except that-time-of-the-month and the-birds-and-the-bees from a female perspective.

Emma can deal with that.

"I can't believe you put a whoopee cushion on my seat." Jack groans as he slides the offending rubber from under his ass, having paid the price for his lack of vigilance when sliding into the car.

Yep, total prankster. She doesn't do it often, so when Selene does indulge her genetic need for mischief it's always a surprise and he's always unprepared – she put Jell-O in his work shoes one time, and another occasion involved a morning cup of coffee and chilli powder.

His – or her – particular favourite was the knowledge of what happens after visiting Taco Bell, and hiding all of the toilet paper in the house when the time came to spend an eternity in the bathroom. Of course, Aster was never pranked like that by Alexander, no sir. He had an ample supply of the stuff, but Selene Frost?

Merciless.

Adorable sniggers escape her little lips as her entire face crinkles in mirth, her hand covering her mouth as she says "You snooze, you lose, Daddy!"

"I'll get you back, one day." he twists to the right with one hand on the steering wheel, shooting her a threatening look.

"I doubt it."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"You haven't pranked anyone in years, Daddy. I heard Uncle Aster saying that he stopped worrying about traps when he goes to work." she says astutely, and it kind of hits him in the face that she is one-hundred-percent correct. He's given so much to this single parenting malarkey that everything that made him who he was has taken a back seat – he can't even remember the last time he pranked Aster.

"You're right," he nods in serious agreement, "I think I'm going to do something about that."

"Awesome! What will you do?" she asks, her face brightening at the prospect of vicarious mischief.

"Well," he says as he turns the key, shifts the stick into R and slowly backs out of the driveway, "it's going to involve a klaxon, Uncle Aster's chair, and masking tape."

The drive to Arendelle Elementary is over in less than half an hour, and most of that was spent singing along to whatever song happened to be on the radio (or in Jack's case, singing the lyrics to D Piddy's Nerdy Stuff as opposed to Taylor Swift's Shake It Off, earning a few puzzled looks and reprimands of "that's not how it goes, Daddy!"), and though the sensation of time slipping through his fingers is still present as it was in the kitchen, the mood is otherwise buoyant – though he noticed shortly before they found a space in the middle of the parking lot that she really liked Shakira's Can't Remember to Forget You, and he promptly made a mental note to not let her see the accompanying video until she's much, much older.

Selene's growing up fast, but not that fast.

As he opens the door for her to slide out, his mind automatically takes stock of the scene to commit it to his memory – first days of school only happen once each time, and he wants to remember the moment that she took the first steps on the path to higher education. Arendelle Elementary is a robust but pretty looking school, with red brickwork constituting the outer body, crimson double doors that lead into the building itself, chain link fences that cut the site off from the rest of the city as a form of protection for the children inside, healthy green grass and well-tended trees that flank either side of the path leading to the main doors, and the ever present flag of the US flies proudly at full mast eight feet to the left of that path.

It looks different to when he studied there all those years ago, but after two decades he's not exactly surprised at the change – but it was (and still is) a good school, so when Aster said he put in an application for Alexander, it seemed to be a logical choice.

With his hand patiently resting upon the car door frame, his eyes flick down from the legions of couples, single mothers and children all slowly moving to the main entrance with cheers, laughter and squeals filling the air, and notices his daughter stood watching the crowd with nervous eyes, an expression of childlike uncertainty upon her dainty features, and her Captain Marvel T-shirt crinkled under her left arm as she strokes her right upper arm with her left hand in anxiety – classic Elsa Frost.

For someone who, up until now, was full of the joys of spring and excitement and singing along to Shakira, the change is startling.

"What's up, kiddo?" he asks, frowning in puzzlement.

"Daddy, I'm scared."

"Why?"

"What if the other kids don't like me? What if Alexander's not in my classes? What if…" she rambles, and Jack knows he has to calm her down before she bursts into tears and gets herself into a state. Selene's a tough kid; she's been through a lot, so when she cries it's something that breaks his heart every time.

"Hey! Hey, hey, hey," he mutters quietly and calmly, wearing an expression of kindness as he kneels down so she doesn't need to look up, "you are Selene Frost; the other kids are gonna love you. I don't know for sure if Alexander will be the same class as you, but you'll always see him in recess! Don't you worry, snowflake. It's all good."

He smiles warmly and kindly at her as she turns her gaze towards him, her ice-blue eyes shimmering with worried tears, and after about a second she surges forward and throws her arms around him, burying her face in his neck.

"Okay, Daddy." he feels the words murmured into his shirt, and hopes that what he said is – for the moment – enough.

"There, you see? Nothing to be afraid of. Want me to carry you in, or?"

"It's okay. I can walk." she sniffs as she pulls away and re-adjusts the Sofia the First backpack on her shoulders. Jack chuckles as he rises to his feet and shuts the passenger door, and with hands held together they carefully navigate the huge (and nearly full) parking lot, and melt into the horde of souls seeking entrance into the school.

The inside of the building hasn't changed as much as the outside – the walls are still apple green on the lower half and sky blue on the upper, with a white border cleaving the two bright colours apart with perfect straightness. Adorned along the corridors are displays of various pictures that the schoolchildren have painted, or photographs and scribbles of field trips, and the usual accoutrements that constitute an elementary school's artistic and literary curriculum. With Selene's little hand tightly gripping his right as they navigate their way through the myriad adults and children in front of him all seeking their own destinations, his eyes fall upon a familiar woman knelt outside one of the classrooms three doors away, trying desperately to control and guide her ever-energetic black-haired son from racing into people's legs in his excitement.

"Hey, snowflake," he says as he kneels down beside her and points to the young boy, "there's Alexander. Why don't you go say hi?"

Her face lights up and she charges off like a bullet from a gun, her backpack jiggling hilariously with each step, and Alexander barely notices before she almost tackles him off the ground with a hug.

"Yay, Alexander!"
"Yay, Selene!"

Two names and one cheer repeated over and over again, with linked arms and circular bouncing for good measure. Best friends since they were babies, Selene and Alexander are inseparable partners-in-crime, two halves of a whole. Many a time has Jack arrived at Chez Bunnymund to pick up his daughter, only to find her covered in paint – Aster is an artist on the side and his paintings often sell for a nice profit, not enough for a steady income hence the job, and as such his hobbies have been passed down to his son. Give the two energetic children paintbrushes, and you have a veritable pair of Jackson Pollocks on your hands.

"Mommy, Selene's here!" Alexander shouts to his mother, who nods knowingly in a way that screams "yes, I can see that!"

"Hey Tooth," he says as he embraces the electric blue-haired woman in a warm, welcoming hug, "I'm guessing you've had an eventful morning?"

"Oh, you have no idea. Alexander has been a complete livewire since he woke up; he's so excited about today. It took me twenty minutes just to get him to sit down for his breakfast." she groans, patting his back as she pulls away.

"I can imagine. Guessing Alexander has Mr North for his classes?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Just a lucky guess," he chuckles, then turns towards his daughter who is now engaged in a fierce debate with her friend about how her Captain Marvel T-shirt is way better than his Batman t-shirt, "hey, snowflake? Alexander's in your classes too."

"Captain Marvel is better because she's a girl! Not some smelly…wait…yay!" she cheers as the news finally sinks in, and promptly links her hands with her friend's and begins the bouncing all over again.

Jack sniggers while Tooth incredulously shakes her head, bewildered at the sheer amount of energy that can be produced and used by a human being half her size.

"You know," she says with a wince in her voice, "I wonder if Mr North will survive the day…"

"I'm pretty sure he's trained for this," Jack chuckles, but inside he anxiously wonders the same thing given Selene's mischief and Alexander's endless liveliness, "anyway, I should probably get going. Need to make a stop before I get to work."

Sliding it from the left pocket of his smart pants, a quick check of the time on his phone confirms his suspicions – seven forty five. Fifteen minutes to get to the car and get to work on time, with a quick stop for a klaxon and duct tape on the way. Provided there are no surprises, he reckons he can make it in time – it's only ten minutes to Southernisle Insurance from Arendelle Elementary.

"Okay, Jack," Tooth smiles as she hugs him goodbye, "try not to get too bored. Oh, and tell my husband to watch his sugar intake, would you? I'm trying to set an example for good oral hygiene for Alexander, and he's not helping by having four sugars in his coffee."

Jack smiles as he nods knowingly – Tooth is very big on healthy gums and teeth, and as such tries incredibly hard to impress upon her husband and son the importance of sugary moderation – the problem is that Aster has a sweet tooth (which he actually used as a pick-up line when he first met Tooth in high school, to Jack's eternal embarrassment. It worked, though).

"Will do," he acknowledges, then kneels down so he is at eye level with Selene once more, "hey, kiddo? Daddy has to go to work now, but Aunty Tooth is going to pick you up from school and take you to her house, then I'll come by after work to take you home. Okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," she says as she relinquishes her grasp of Alexander and throws her arms around him for an adorably tight hug around his neck, "have fun at work today!"

"And," Tooth adds with a finger in the air, indicating that the next sentence is predicated on something important, "if you two are good, then we're going for ice cream after school."

Selene and Alexander's faces brighten with the power of a floodlight as they gasp with childlike joy, and instinctively their arms link up once more, heralding the start of a third round of bouncing.

"Yay! Ice cream!" they cheer happily, while Jack shoots Tooth an incredulous look from his spot near the floor.

"What happened to setting an example?"

"Eh," she shrugs, "it's their first day. They deserve a treat just this once. Don't worry about her, Jack, she's gonna love school."

He shakes his head in amused exasperation at the slight case of double standards, and with a quick kiss on Selene's cheek – "eeew, gross!" – he quickly bids Tooth and the two children goodbye and adeptly dodges the dozens of people all waiting for the day to begin at five past eight.

It's a little bit manic, that's for sure, but there's an air of excited anticipation in the corridor that only first-school-days can yield, the knowledge that your child is ready to learn more about the world around them, to expand on their numeracy, delve into the beautiful fantasy that only kids' books can offer, and begin the inexorable journey to a fully-fledged member of society.

The idea still scares the shit out of him, but right now…he's okay with it.

As he carefully dodges a mother with long flowing brown hair and her two twin boys – both auburn haired with cleft chins – his phone vibrates in his hand in that staccato rhythm that indicates a text, and as he pushes open the door into the freedom of the outside air, he glances down at the new notification.

mate, netflix's daredevil. watch it, live it, love it. – Aster

Jack shakes his head as he taps out a reply, his fingers working furiously as he adeptly dodges the onslaught of human beings headed his way from the parking lot.

I don't have Netflix and can't afford it, you kangaroo! – J

He smirks to himself as he awaits his buddy's reply; Aster is an honest, black-and-white kind of guy who you can depend on for anything, including a royal kick up the ass, and Jack has nothing but respect for him. It doesn't mean that the tall Australian is exempt from snarky humour, though, and the white-haired man knows exactly which buttons to push for maximum grumpiness.

you can use my pw, and i swear if you call me a kangaroo one more time im gonna deck you – Aster

He's unable to prevent a victorious laugh from escaping his throat as he crosses the road and walks into the parking lot itself, bearing slightly to the right towards his blue Ford parked in the middle of the far edge. By now, most of the parents have either dropped their kids off or are waiting inside, so he's in no danger of becoming a human pancake served on the warm asphalt.

He's so involved in deciding on the myriad responses that he could utilise to piss Aster off even more, from apologising for the usage of 'kangaroo' and electing instead for 'wet wombat', to implying that he finds New Zealand to be prettier than Australia, that he completely fails to notice and nearly bumps into the woman stood in front of his car…

…and as he looks up to apologise profusely for his lack of spatial awareness and catches a glimpse of her face, his heart stops, his lungs catch, his throat closes…and instead of a hasty "I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going!" he can't even croak out her name through dry lips, parted in shock.

It can't be. She cannot be standing here, all these years later, like nothing ever happened.

The ghost of his past smiles nervously at him as cerulean orbs gaze through shimmering wetness into stunned cobalt blue, and when she faintly speaks in that soft, silky smooth voice that used to sound like music to his ears…it's like he'll never breathe again.

"Hello Jack…"

A/N:

She's back...but what's going to happen next?

Until next time.