A/N: Hey, long time no see! Yeah, sorry about disappearing like that on you, but I started up this Rise of the Guardians fanfiction and got a little carried away by it. I'm dusting it off, however, and continuing on. So here goes; read and enjoy!

Night 3: Saying 'I'm sorry', 'Goodbye', 'Hello', and 'Please, no more!'

Part VI: 'Please, no more!'

Ana's POV

I watched the last of the patrons leave through the velvet tunnel from where I peeked behind the flap of my tent, feeling light as air. First night as the new Illusionist, and I'd been a complete success—at least, that's what Poppet had said after my final performance. Kristoff hadn't returned at all, which was a huge relief for my shaken nerves.

With a happy sigh I turned away from the entryway, letting the flap drift closed. I practically skipped to the center of the stage, throwing my arms wide and doing a quick twirl, lips parting in a grin. Laughing, I continued on to my private quarters, tossing my hat onto my dressing table and throwing myself down into the plush oasis of my bed, feeling myself sink as the bed gave way beneath me. It gave me something akin to a high, performing tonight. Though the best performance, I thought, was my first; the look on the little boy's face when I told him he could keep the dragon was priceless.

"Knock, knock." I twisted around and propped myself up on my elbows to identify the intruder.

My eyes widened in pleasant surprise, and I refused to acknowledge the pink tinge that probably colored my throat. "Widget!"

He grinned at me from where he stood in a doorway I'd never noticed before, between my wardrobe and a bookcase, as he twirled a bowler hat around one black silk-clad finger. His usual mop had been slicked back, making him seem older and more mature. "Hello Ana. How're you feeling?"

I smiled back, getting to my feet and giving my skirts a quick twitch to rearrange them. "On top of the world!"

"That's great." His eyes were gentle as they settled on mine. "Got any plans for the rest of the day?"

"Nope." I didn't need sleep, right?

A mischievous sparkle entered his eyes, reminding me of his sister, as he settled the hat back on top of his head before holding out his hand to me. "Then come along with me, if you please."

His long fingers wrapped around mine, pulling me along with him. "Where are we going?"

He flicked a glance at me over his shoulder, chuckling. "Wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, now would it?" I opened my mouth to respond, but found nothing to say. I looked around me in wonder as we continued along. It was like one unending corridor, lined on either side by doors the color of fresh blood, and branching off here and there like roots with smaller hallways. Each door had a gold plaque bearing the name of the room's owner or, in some cases, the name of one of the tents.

"What is this place?"

"It's Backstage. It connects all of the tents together." He answered quickly without breaking stride, quickly towing me along behind him. "Hurry up, now, or we'll be late."

I made a face at his back but complied, hastening to try to match his longer stride. I let out a yelp as he suddenly jerked me to the left, down one of the narrow, off-branching hallways, my boots squeaking on the ebony floorboards. "Slow down, Widget! My legs are shorter than –!" The rest of my complaint was cut off as I slammed into his back; he'd stopped suddenly in front of a door, throwing it open wide to reveal…the canvas side of a tent?

"Here we are," Widget pulled me around so I was in front of him, and I frowned as I realized the dull thumping noise was really loud music, "Poppet, we're here!"

Poppet's head poked through the side of the tent, revealing the edge of a flap, and beamed at us. "It's about time, Widge! What'd you do, take her out on the scenic route? Oh, never mind! Ana, get in here!" She laughed, golden bangles jingling on her arm as she reached out, grabbing my wrist and ripping me through the entrance.

"Oh, wow." I breathed, eyes enormous as I took in my surroundings. The only black and white to be found in here was me—everything else, much like the interior of my tent, was in every other color or hue imaginable. Members of the Cirque danced or flitted from one small group to the next, not one of them wearing a speck of snow- or ink-colored anything (besides their hair, that it—not much they could do about that). Poppet even was clad in head-to-toe green and gold, making her hair stand out even more than usual, her eyes lined with emerald eyeliner. Looking behind me, I noticed that under his coat Widget was wearing a midnight blue silk suit. He quickly retired his coat, gloves and hat to a nearby chair, leaving me the odd woman out. "I need to go back and change!" I gasped, making for the tent flap. "I don't fit in at all right now."

"Easy, easy!" Poppet laughed, not relinquishing her hold on my wrist. "It's alright if you stand out tonight; it's your party, after all!"

I turned to face her, confused. "My party?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's not every day we get a new member to our family. Of course this party is for you."

I took a fistful of the mist-like fabric of the skirt of my dress, watching as it brightened from pitch black to a brilliant amethyst, my boots the rich color of plums. "That's better." I smiled, satisfied.

"Yes, it's lovely—now, let's sit down so we can eat, shall we?" she giggled, motioning to the several large tables positioned around the vast space. I was suddenly famished, and proceeded to tug her and Widget towards one of the tables. Food was brought out, each course so beautifully prepared that were it not for how hungry I was, I probably couldn't have dared to eat it. On the bright side, it tasted even better than it looked. Everything was absolutely delicious, and I wasn't sure if I was more upset or pleased by the fact that I had no idea what it was I was eating. The best part, of course, was the dessert; several different little cakes surrounded by sugar flowers, small spun sugar globes like colored glass containing different flavors of custard.

Poppet leaned over to me, whispering conspiratorially, "We usually have these sorts of dinner parties at midnight, but tonight was a special circumstance. Do you like it?"

My mouth was too full to vocally respond, so I settled for nodding emphatically.

"Good, then let's go dance!" She said excitedly, pulling me up from my chair.

I swallowed quickly to clear my mouth of any food. "But I haven't finished my dessert yet!"

Poppet grinned, shaking her head, and laughed as she pulled me towards where the others were dancing. Voices called and greeted me from every direction, and I smiled.

I reemerged an indeterminable amount of time later, loose tendrils of hair clinging to my face and neck with sweat, feeling slightly light-headed. They were playing songs from almost every music genre or, even, era. I hummed along with the music under my breath as I headed over to the refreshment area, vision a bit hazy. A new song came on; I recognized it as 1940 (the Amplive remix) by The Submarines.

I got a glass of the punch, downing it in a matter of gulps, and repeated the process a few more times until my thirst was sated. The light-headed feeling didn't go away; it spread instead to the rest of me, my throat burning strangely, and everything took on a vague glow. I set my glass down on a nearby table, looking around for Poppet. I caught a flash of forest-green, seeing her dancing with an ocher-clad Bailey on the other side of the room. A broad, red-clad chest intercepted my path, and as I tilted my head back I recognized the whirling golden eyes beneath the mess of black hair. "Kristoff," I blinked slowly up at him, as if not fully recognizing him, my head taking on an almost aviary tilt.

His perfect teeth flashed in an irritating smile. "Ana, won't you dance with me?" he asked warmly, his fingers circling my wrists, rubbing soft circles across my palms. "I promise not to bite." He breathed in my ear, voice full of laughter, and pressed his lips to the skin just below my ear.

I snatched my hands away from his grasp, but turned around and returned to the dance floor anyway, his breath cool on the back of my neck. Once we were part of the writhing, dancing masses, I felt his hands on my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder so our cheeks brushed.

"I don't remember agreeing to dance with you." I murmured, knowing that he would probably hear me even over the loud reverberating beat of the music.

He hummed low in the back of his throat, the sound vibrating through us like a growl. "I don't see you pushing me away, either."

"I'm getting to it." I mumbled, feeling as if my blood was too hot in my veins. I looked down at my arms, feeling a distant form of shock as I realized my silver fire had made an appearance, licking up my arms towards my throat. "Odd,"

"Not odd," Kristoff corrected, pulling one of my hands up to twirl me before grazing his lips across my knuckles, "beautiful."

I threw my head back with a laugh, pulling my hand back from him with a knowing smirk. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to. You are nothing but trouble."

He grinned back down at me predatorily, pulling me close and placing a lingering kiss on my cheek as I scowled. "Mmm, I know. Isn't that marvelous?"

"Shove off."

He let out a derisive snort, fingers digging into my back. "If you really meant that, you'd do something to prove your point."

"She might not do something," said a familiar voice from behind me, slicing through my foggy mind, "but I guarantee you that I will."

Kristoff ignored him. "You look parched, my darling. Can I get you some punch?"

I grimaced. "Please, no more!"

"Kristoff!" Widget snapped in a low voice, making me shiver.

Kristoff raised an eyebrow at Widget over my head. "Murray, what a coincidence; I was just leaving. Here, take the guest of honor for a moment, won't you? Be careful, mind—the punch might've been a bit too much for her." He spun me in a quick turn before letting me crash unceremoniously into Widget and vanishing among the crowd.

"Are you alright?" Widget asked, peering down into my flushed face with concern.

I used his shoulders for support so I could stand instead of just lean against him, my arm aching from where it had been pinned between the two of us. "I'll be fine, I just need to sit down for a bit." He nodded, looking as though he didn't entirely believe me, and looped an arm around my waist to help me through the jostling crowd. He directed me towards a chair by the entrance from earlier, making sure I wouldn't wander off before leaving to the refreshment table. Please, I prayed, no more punch.

When he returned, it was with a glass of cold water instead of punch. I drank from it greedily, as well as taking the offered Tylenol. "Thank you." I said, smiling, as he took the empty glass from me.

"You're welcome." He replied automatically, pressing his hand to my cheek with a frown.

"That feels nice," I sighed, leaning into the cool touch.

His frown deepened, his brow pinching together. "I bet it does; you're positively feverish. How much punch did you have?"

I thought about it, swaying a bit, and held up four fingers.

"There's alcohol in it—did you know that?" he asked, gazing at me levelly.

I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. "That explains it, then."

"Explains what?"

I made a vague motion with my hand to include the entire room. "The glowing, my lightheadedness—why is it so hot in here?" I wiped some of my hair from my eyes.

Widget gave a resigned sigh. "You're drunk, Ana. Hush," he said, irritated, when I opened my mouth to say I most certainly was not, "can you stand up for me?"

I pushed away the hand he offered, moving to stand, and let out a startled gasp when my shaky legs gave way beneath me. His arm looped around my stomach to keep me from falling, and his sigh ruffled my hair, electrifying where his breath touched my cheek.

"Take that as a 'no'. Come on, then, can't be helped." His other arm came up beneath my knees, scooping me up so that I was cradled against his chest, my arms going around his neck. I rested my head against his chest as he passed through the entrance, making his way through Backstage to get back to my tent, going slowly so as not to jostle me too much.

"I'm sorry." I said quietly after a beat, closing my eyes.

He shifted me a bit. "It'll be okay. We're almost there now."

I smiled, listening to the quick thudding of his heart against my ear.

Widget's POV

She smells like cinnamon, I thought as I carried Ana through her door towards her bed, setting her softly down in her bed. I shook off my dark blue blazer, settling it over her as a cover, and perched on the edge of her bed. The Illusionist's eyelashes were long and dark, forming crescents on her rosy cheeks, lips parted like a child's as she slept. Gently, I pushed a few loose stands of her hair from her face, tucking them behind her ear.

She looked so innocent in her slumber, turning so she lay on her side and tugging the jacket up to her chin. My gaze drifted up to her mouth again, and the temptation to steal a kiss was there. Kristoff would do it in a heartbeat, I knew. I wasn't Kristoff, though.

Carefully and almost painfully slowly, I moved to stand, turning to leave back out the way I'd come.

I felt something pull at my shirt, tugging it free from where I'd had it tucked in. Turning halfway around, I saw that it was her pale hand, fisted in the material. "Stay." She commanded sleepily, eyes opening halfway to look up at me.

I blinked down at her dream-filled gaze, startled. "Are you talking to me?" I asked somewhat foolishly.

She nodded and pulled harder on my shirt until I sat back down, her lips curling just barely at the corners in a soft smile. "You."

I shook my head, smiling down at her in bewilderment. "You're too trusting."

"You're too trusting." She responded childishly, rising up slowly. My blazer fell back to pool around her knees as she pulled herself into an upright position, grasping my shoulders, her eyes cloudy with sleep. I felt my heartbeat hasten as her hands slid around my neck, followed by her arms, bringing her face closer to mine.

"You're drunk, Ana." I reminded her quietly, placing my hands on her waist to steady her.

She scowled at me, resting her forehead against mine. "I see. You don't like me."

"I do like you."

She released her hold on my neck, sitting back and looking away from me. "No, not like…." She let it trail off, toying with her hands in her lap. "Never mind."

"Ana." I reached forward, taking her chin in my hand and turning her face towards mine. I was horrified to see moisture welling up in her lovely blue-green eyes, and found myself leaning forward to kiss the tear that threatened to spill from her lashes. I pulled away slowly, unsure of what to do. "I, ah, better be go—,"

Her face surged towards mine, her mouth pressing to the corner of mine. I blinked at her, unsure of what had just happened.

"Goodnight." She murmured, looking down at her hands again.

I blinked, taking a moment to form a proper thought. "Goodnight, sweet dreams, Ana."

Leaving her with the jacket, I stood from the bed, leaving through the Backstage door and closing it behind me. Poppet lounged against the wall opposite the door, a knowing smirk on her lips.

"What?" I asked, irritable, as I felt throat warm.

Her eyes sparkled merrily. "Uh-huh."

"What?!"

She shook her head, the tiny golden bells sewed into her peridot headscarf tinkling lightly. "Nothing, nothing. Goodnight, Widge." She laughed quietly, strolling away towards her room.

A/N: So ends Night 3. Please review!