A/N: Hey everyone! Hope your holidays were full of happiness and well-deserved relaxation! I finally, finally am able to update. I won't bore you with the details of the crazy stuff, but I'm back and I still fully intend to finish this story!

Just as I promised, a certain jolly Guardian will show up in this chapter. :) So enjoy!

Standard disclaimers apply.

*A Beautiful Night*

Slowly Elsa began to see signs of the Guardians' existence.

The first time she saw a silver quarter peeking out from under a child's pillow, she'd glanced at Pitch questioningly. His lip curled and he'd pulled Elsa away from the bedside, as if she might catch an illness from the coin. "Toothiana," he'd muttered in explanation, causing Elsa to glance back in surprise.

"That's one of the quarters she leaves behind?" she'd asked, straining for a better look.

"One of the members of her fairy army left it, most likely," Pitch sneered. "She's too lazy to come out herself, anymore." He'd nodded sharply to the next apartment building over. "Come on. I don't want to risk running into one of her delivery girls."

After that, whenever Elsa saw the glint of one of the Tooth Fairy's coins, she kept quiet. She was curious about the Guardians, despite her doubts of them, and that only increased when she caught sight of the faint glimmer of golden sand swirling above a child's head. "Is that…?" she'd whispered, nudging Pitch.

He gave her an appraising look. "What?"

"Gold sand." She reached out and brushed the glittering particles. At the touch of her fingers, several grains crystalized into blue ice. She gasped and quickly pulled away. The sand immediately defrosted, shaping itself into a sailboat on a smooth ocean.

Pitch chuckled. "So you can finally see the sand."

She gaped at the sand. "My ice melted – "

"It wasn't because of anything you did." He shook his head at the look on her face. "You can't alter the Sandman's sand," he said. "Not for long. It's too powerful."

"So that is the dream the child is having." Elsa watched the tiny sails on the ship flap in an imaginary wind. She glanced at Pitch. "Can you change the dream?"

"No."

"Why not? You're the Nightmare King."

"I'm the fear in the darkness, remember?" he corrected quietly. "My gifts resonate within dreams, but I cannot directly alter them."

Elsa examined the slightly wistful look on his face. "It would be easier if you could."

He rolled his eyes. "That goes without saying."

The Guardians were a puzzle to Elsa. They had such power over Pitch – Pitch, who was so terribly strong and fast and cunning. She had seen evidence of the Guardians' existence, but she still wanted to see one, any of them, just so she could know for herself that they were real.

Then she finally got what she wished. One snowy evening, as she was following Pitch down the hallway into a twin's room on the other side of the house, he suddenly froze. His breath came out in a low, dangerous hiss and suddenly he vanished, reappearing behind Elsa to tug her into the shadows. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but Pitch whispered "not a sound," and she nodded obediently.

Elsa saw the reason for Pitch's alarm a moment later. In the main room of the house, past the stairs that led to the first level, a man in red looked up, the fluffy bob on his hat bouncing as he looked around. He braced his hands on his belt, and Elsa caught a glimpse of a jolly face and a long white beard before he turned away. "Strange," the big man murmured to himself. "I thought I had heard… but no matter. If elves come sneaking after me," he said, raising his voice slightly, "there will be punishment later."

Elsa felt Pitch shake his head and sigh in disgust. His breath ghosted over her skin. She shivered a little and tried to focus instead on Father Christmas. So this was one of the infamous Guardians! She thought about his friendly face and his accented voice, so curiously endearing. Why do you seem so kind? She wondered, watching him drag over an enormous bag and set it down near a cut fir tree in the corner of the room. You look caring, but why did you never come? When I was a child, why did you never comfort me? Why did none of the Guardians ever come?

Nicholas St. North bent down over his bag and Elsa, unable to help herself, leaned forward to see. Immediately Pitch's arms tightened around her, holding her close against his chest. "Don't stray," he ordered, his words caressing her skin. Elsa let herself relax in his embrace, the feel of his body behind hers soothing the bitter thoughts from her mind. Pitch was right, Elsa thought, watching as Father Christmas straightened with an armful of toys and wrapped gifts in his arms. You may seem benevolent, but you and the other Guardians aren't true protectors of children. How many others besides me did you neglect? How many others will you forget and leave to a lonely childhood bereft of love?

They stood still and silent until St. North slung his bag over his shoulder and, nodding at his good work, tugged at his nose and vanished up the chimney. As one, Elsa and Pitch let out their breaths in a slow exhale. "Christmas," Pitch muttered, the word a curse. "How could I have forgotten? I never go out on Christmas – too much good feeling and happy dreams and hopes from children everywhere."

"This is only our first house," Elsa pointed out. "And I didn't feel anything."

"That's because it's anathema to me, not you," Pitch huffed. He stepped with her further into the shadows. Together they reappeared in his underground domain. "So. That, as you might have gathered, was Nicholas St. North," Pitch announced. "You know him as Father Christmas."

"He's the leader of the Guardians," Elsa said, remembering.

"Yes. What did you think of him?"

His words and the tone of his voice were mocking, as if he expected her to mention St. North's happy visage and the kindness he was doing to every child around the world that night. But to Elsa, her answer was clear. "He doesn't deserve the title Guardian," she said tightly. "And neither do the other three, if they are just like him."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. To be selective in their generosity is heartless," Elsa said. "And that makes him almost as heartless as you."

Pitch was silent for a moment. "Heartless?" he echoed softly.

"Yes."

"Then that makes you heartless as well, for being my accomplice and scaring the children."

Elsa froze, but then slowly nodded, accepting his words. She was heartless. "I suppose we both are, but our work needs to be done."

For a few seconds Pitch was completely still. Then he spun her around in his arms until she was flush against his chest, forced to tilt her head straight back to meet his burning gaze. "Why?" he asked, his rasping voice even more rough than she was used to hearing. "Why does it need to be done? Why do you want to help me – you of all people?"

Elsa blinked, taken aback at the ferocity in his tone. "Because life isn't about quarters under pillows or happy dreams, or – or Christmas," she said, searching his face for some sign of the reason for his questions. He appeared as expressionless as ever. "Because disappointment and sadness is real. Nightmares are just the first lesson to children that life isn't always fair. The Guardians can't help them when they're grown, so maybe it would be better to kill children's hopes early before they come to depend on them too much; before they're shattered by the realization that the idyllic would they know in childhood doesn't really exist."

Elsa felt like she was rambling, but couldn't seem to make herself stop. Yet all the while when she was talking, Elsa had seen Pitch's face slowly change. His grip loosened on her arms until it was just a gentle touch, but Elsa had no desire to move away.

"That's why you're here?" Pitch asked long after she had fallen silent. "That's why you're helping me scare children?"

"Yes," she said. "They need to know the truth."

Pitch dropped his eyes. He said nothing, but Elsa sensed that her reason was one of his, as well. From his silence, it seemed as though he hadn't expected her to come to the same realization.

"And – " Elsa blurted, but she quickly shut her mouth, mortified by the thought that had nearly come racing out of her.

Pitch looked at her. Elsa shut her eyes, wishing she hadn't spoken.

"Elsa," he prompted.

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes again, knowing how weak her next words would sound. She stared at his chest, at the dip in his cloak that showed bare, dark skin. "And… I didn't lie to you that night: I wanted to come to be with you."

There was a second of breathless stillness. Then Pitch's hands curled around her elbows and Elsa tilted up her chin as Pitch's mouth came down hard on hers. Very quickly her fingers twined in his hair, pulling his head down as her other hand clenched in the collar of his cloak, peeling the fabric back to brush his smooth skin. Pitch was perfect, leaving a trail of kisses across her shoulder while his hand sought the slit in her dress. She obliged him and he hooked a hand under her knee, pulling her close.

And as they sank down together to the floor of the cave, Elsa couldn't say for certain if the words were the worst sort of falsehood, or if they were utterly true.

A/N: There will be more.