I swear this chapter was meant to end up happily but my brain decided not to work anymore and I'm just so sorry for being late. Anyway, I hope you guys like it. ;v; thank you for reading, reviewing and everything else. You guys are great! Not going to reply to reviews today because for dark's sake it's almost 2am why am I still up? But I've read them and thank you so much for your support! Ideas had been gathered and I'll work on them later~ I'll update this chapter later with my replies~

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Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians.

Summary: In which Jack meets Sandman.

36. Dreams

"I don't understand it. I've tried everything, everything and they still don't see me."

The winter child looked up at the bright moon that had given him so much and nothing at all at the same time. He knew he shouldn't expect for an answer, not after a hundred and sixty years of pure silence, yet a strange part of his soul simply refused to give up on such a pointless hope. Pitch was right about his fears as he was always right about everything else. Jack was scared of never finding out why.

Why had he been left alone for a hundred years? Why could no one see him, no matter what he did?
Why did he end up like that, despised and ignored by everyone else but the Boogeyman?

It had to have a reason. Pitch had told him once that Man in Moon never did anything without a good reason.
Maybe he changed his mind about Jack Frost down the way. Maybe he made a mistake that couldn't be undone.

But before he had enough time to start brooding over those depressing thoughts, a trail of golden sand illuminated the dark night, pushing his sadness away in the very moment blue eyes followed it through the skies and inside the houses. Sandman, always on time. The winter child felt a smile growing on his lips as the Wind picked his body up and placed him on the top of a roof, closer to the golden lines dancing and moving softly, spreading good dreams to children everywhere.

For a moment he felt really jealous. Having a good dream, at least once, would be nice.

It'd be better than the dreamless nights, than the nightmares Pitch gave him from time to time. Not that he'd ever complain about the nightmares. It was nothing compared to everything the Nightmare King had offered him through the years they've been together.

But just for once it'd be nice to feel like any other child being watched over by the Guardians of Childhood.
He was a child, right? Pitch kept saying that. He had been frozen in time, fated to be forever a boy. If he was a child, the Guardians of Childhood should protect him as well... right?

But he didn't deserve it.

No one enjoyed winter as much as he loved it with all his being. No one noticed the beauty in each snowflake he built patiently. No one welcomed the cold that only brought death, the snowstorms and blizzards that were no more than a nuisance.

Jack Frost was winter, therefore he was a nuisance as well.
The only that seemed to think differently was Pitch Black.

They were meant to be together because cold and dark were the only things that could go work together.

His fingers touched the dream sand gently before he tried to stop himself, a giggle bubbling on his throat as he watched glittering dolphins swim around him, screeching happily before freezing oh so slowly and falling at his feet, useless and beautiful as broken snowflakes melting under the warm sun. That was something he still couldn't understand as well. Why couldn't he control himself, his frost? Pitch always made it look so simply... His eyes still followed the gold trails for some seconds, wondering if someone would ever notice if he tried to steal some dream sand for himself or if it'd be really bad... Just this once, he promised himself.

As he stretched out his fingers again, a soft tap on his shoulder made him turn and almost fall over the roof at the sudden, overwhelming presence so close to him.
It was Sandman himself, with such a strange expression on his golden face that Jack felt smaller than the little man.

Suddenly, symbols made of pure sand appeared over the Dreamweaver's head and Jack blinked, his curiosity taking over the fear blooming on his chest in a matter of seconds. Quick, small images formed and fell away to be replaced by new ones - and no matter how much he tried to focus, he couldn't just understand what the golden man was trying to show him.

"I-I'm sorry, I can't understand you..."

The Sandman blinked as if he had been awaken from a sturpor, and something on his expression softened. His eyes were sweet and almost caring, and when the golden images showed up over his head once more, they were slow and clear. A snowflake and a question mark, a little arrow pointing right to Jack's chest... A game of guessing! He enjoyed playing it with Pitch's mares sometimes, when they weren't chasing him around the lair and trying to bite him. But it seemed different here, over Sandman's head.

"Who... am I?" Jack guessed shyly, beaming at Sandman's nod. "My name is Jack Frost." And a wave of shame and mild panic flushed over his face as the golden man pointed at the frozen sand at his feet, looking not so friendly anymore. "O-oh... I didn't m-mean to mess with your sand, I-I swear! I just... wanted t-to know how it feels like t-to have a nice dream, just once..."

The staff felt weird under his tight grip, yet he noticed how the little man seemed dumbstruck by his words.
More symbols appeared over his head and it took Jack a longer moment than before to comprehend them.

"You wanna know... if you never gave me a dream?" The Dreamweaver nodded once more. "N-no, you never did... How old am I? 160. N-not much, right?" The winter child allowed a nervous laugh escape his lips at the sight of Sandman furrowing his brows in concern, his fingers twirling over the frozen staff. "P-Pitch keeps saying I'm still a child."

Two words, rushed but written in an elegant font that almost resembled Pitch's, appeared on the sand, replacing the little images from before.

Pitch Black?

It was Jack's turn to nod. The Sandman frowned even more, worry and some kind of anger as clear as day on his golden features. The sand over his head kept forming more letters and words beautifully written, and the winter child simply stared in awe at the trick. Is it why you never had a good dream? It was written, and the child blinked in confusion at the question. Because of Pitch Black?

"No! We've been friends for only 60 years... I've never had a good dream since I woke up as Jack Frost. N-not blaming you! I don't sleep much either, so it's kinda pointless. " He felt himself saying a bit too quickly at Sandman's sudden desolated expression, shame showering over his cold body once more.

Someone so important and busy as the Sandman shouldn't be concerned about him! He was still trying to understand how he and Pitch Black, the forsaken Boogeyman, were still together! No, the Big Four had more important things to worry about than a winter spirit that didn't even know how to control himself.

Blue, teary eyes blinked quickly, trying to push away the stupid thoughts and tears.
It was not the time to look so pathetic, so weak, so fragile. Not in front of such a great entity as Sandman.

"But nice to meet you anyway! Your dreams, they look really pretty.. a-and sorry for messing with them! S-see ya!"

And before the dream giver could stop him, the Wind had already picked him up, rushing him home, filling his ears with her comforting, shushing words that never failed in calm his sudden distress.

At least he could always count on Wind to be by his side.

Thank you for reading!
See ya~