A/N: I got some extra reviews last time around, thank you for taking the time to write one for me, I really appreciate it.

This is it, the last chapter before the anniversary. I'm so eager to share it with you guys, but until then I hope you enjoy what I have for you this week.

Still his heart cried out with the question, can't you be happy here, too?

Chapter Seven: Down To The Wire

"I had a dream about her last night."

It was Sunday. Dot and Lorelei usually called each other on the weekends, as they were so busy during the week with other things. Lorelei sat on the sofa, phone to her ear, watching Sophie work diligently in a coloring book.

Jamie had gone off earlier to play in the snow with his friends, Lorelei reminding him not to talk to strangers, particularly the camera-happy tourists that had been in town lately. The kids had assured her that they were not going near the lake, where many of them had set up camp, but rather to the vacant lot where some of their impressive snow fort they had constructed in November still remained.

"Oh yeah? What happened?" Lorelei said, hoping that Dot's dream hadn't been anything too upsetting.

But then again, it was nearly the first anniversary of Rowan being found dead, and there wasn't much that wasn't upsetting about that.

"She was home, just hanging around the kitchen while I got dinner ready. She asked if I was making shepherd's pie, that she had told her boyfriend all about it, and that he would be by any minute," Dot said. "She kept telling Bill to be nice to him when he got there. And then Dad was there, too, sitting at the table and playing cards with Uncle David."

"Did the boyfriend ever show up?" Lorelei asked. Jack Overland was a mystery that just kept getting more, well, mysterious as the time passed.

It was completely bizarre that everything that happened with Rowan had resulted in an old record for a boy named Jackson Overland being recovered, drawing all these ghost hunting tourists in the process. Lorelei had heard about the theory that the colonist that had once lived in Burgess and the Jack Overland that Rowan had known were the same person.

But she highly doubted that. Sometimes people had the same name. Dot and Bill were sure that it was a coincidence as well.

Their mother, Jean, didn't think so. She thought it was far too much to be a coincidence, particularly considering how Jackson Overland died and the fact that Jack Overland had yet to be located. But Jean knew better than to discuss this with Bill and Dot, so she would discuss it with Lorelei sometimes instead. This was the only reason Lorelei knew any of the details.

Sometimes her coworkers would discuss the ghost theory, but they would always cease their discussions when they noticed Lorelei nearby, well aware that the dead girl was her niece.

With any luck, once the anniversary passed, this ghost nonsense would start to calm down.

"The dream got even weirder there. Rowan kept saying he was there, but I couldn't see him, so we got into an argument over that. She said I never supported her when it came to dating, and I told her I didn't want to argue with her since she was dead," Dot said. Lorelei winced as she heard Dot's voice crack slightly, and a poorly-concealed sniffle. "Then Dad says, 'Lighten up, Dottie, he's a nice boy!'"

"Dad would take the boyfriend's side," Lorelei said, relieved that Dot managed a slight laugh at this.

"He would. Then Rowan told me, 'You don't have to worry about me anymore,' and then I woke up."

"It sounds like maybe she was paying you a visit. Her, and Dad, and Uncle David," Lorelei said. She, herself, had dreamed of their father after his death a handful of times, always in a way that made it seem like he was just checking in, always playing cards at the kitchen table. Sometimes their uncle was there, sometimes he wasn't.

She had dreamed of her late husband, Avery, as well. First it was nightmares, her grieving mind unable to let go. Then one night he was playing cards with her father, each of them agreeing that Lorelei could handle things far better than she was giving herself credit for.

Jean always insisted that in dreams like that, the deceased were paying visits to their living loved ones. It was such a nice idea that Lorelei found herself desperately hoping it was true.

"Maybe. I can't believe it's almost a year. It feels like so much longer and so much shorter all at once."

"I know. The anniversaries hit you every time, and something always feels a little off that everything just keep going without them," Lorelei said, reaching forward to ruffle Sophie's hair. The young girl absentmindedly pushed Lorelei's hand away, focused on her coloring and unaware of her mother's sudden sentimentality.

Sophie would start kindergarten in the fall. Avery would not be around for it.

Sometimes Lorelei overheard Jamie telling Sophie stories about him. The little girl's own memories of Avery were few and foggy.

Lately, Jamie would remind Sophie about Rowan, as well. He had even started reading her some of the stories that Rowan had left behind. Lorelei hoped that Sophie would at least be able to remember Rowan a bit more clearly, but she was still so young.

"I don't know how to keep going without her," Dot confessed.

"You have so far," Lorelei reminded her. "It'll always hurt. But it'll get easier."

"That's what people keep saying. I am eagerly awaiting the day this all gets easier."

"You'll get there," Lorelei said, knowing well that it never seemed possible in the moment.

Jack Frost had been nauseous all day.

Truthfully, he had been growing more and more nauseous with each passing day. His chest ached, his pulse raced, and if he wasn't already pale and cold as the default, his appearance and body temperature might be alarming.

Reading to try and get his mind off of things didn't help. He would get to the end of the page and realize he hadn't actually taken in any of the information and have to start over, sometimes having to flip to earlier pages.

Flying didn't help, and he was trying to avoid taking off during daylight for fear of being spotted by one of the paranormal investigators that had come to town and accidentally leading them to his cabin. Night was hardly better, with many of them roaming about with their odd devices and night vision cameras.

Causing a little chaos with Euterpe the other day had been fun, a welcome distraction. But it had strengthened the efforts of the ghost enthusiasts, and Jack wasn't sure what he could expect the next time he crossed their paths.

Rowan's friends had thrown a marker at him, an ultimately harmless gesture. But if the camera crews had something more sophisticated and malicious, Jack wasn't eager to find out.

So, Jack found himself lying on the rug that had been placed between the new sofa and the fireplace, staring at the ceiling and taking deep, controlled breaths.

The anniversary was on Tuesday.

Today was Sunday.

The seconds went by slowly. Jack checked the clock on the mantle every now and again, each time finding barely any progress since the previous time he checked. He was ready for it to start going backwards at this point, to taunt him by adding more time to this stupidly long year.

A knock came at the door.

Jack sighed. He could just pretend he wasn't home. He could just remain silent and hope that whoever had come by would go away and let him obsessively check the ticking clock in peace.

But with the anniversary so close, it might actually be something important.

How annoying.

With great effort he moved into a seated position before pulling himself to his feet.

He shifted the drapes on the window just enough to see who was there.

Jack sighed again, running a hand over his hair nervously before pulling open the door, E. Aster Bunnymund standing on the other side.

"Hello," Jack said.

"Hey," Bunny said. He gestured in the direction of the trail that led to the lake. "What's with all the camera crews?"

"Ghost hunters," Jack said. "Come for Rowan's anniversary."

Bunny shook his head. "I didn't realize how invested the mortals got in ghosts. Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure," Jack said, stepping aside. Bunny entered, glancing around the cabin as he went.

"Looks good, looks like someone actually lives here," Bunny observed, approaching the table and taking a seat.

Jack closed the door before settling into the remaining seat at the table. "Yeah, I'm hoping these are the last renovations for a while."

"You should be good on that front for a bit," Bunny said. "I came by to see how things were otherwise. How've you been?"

"Nauseous," Jack said, rubbing his face with his hand, exhausted. He was sure that Bunny was here to corner Jack into another talk about his feelings. But Jack didn't think there was a much better way to articulate it beyond "nauseous."

Granted that was more of a physical feeling than an emotional one. Could one be emotionally nauseous?

"Mm. I'll get you some ginger, it'll help," said Bunny. "Have you used the dream sand that Sandy gave everyone at Christmas yet?"

"No, I was going to use it tonight," Jack said. A dreamless sleep sounded very nice.

He was thinking of Rowan so much that she was frequenting his dreams more and more. Sometimes cozying up to Nightlight, sometimes drowning again, sometimes just sitting with Jack and drawing.

Most of the time she spoke in dreamy riddles, or in statements that he remembered her making when she was still around.

She repeated her warning that at least one of them would end up heartbroken.

She told him to leave.

She recited scenes from the story about the pirate with terrible luck.

She told him that they should live their story.

She asked him what happened when one died.

She told the story of Jack Frost, the artist who left frost on windows and gave trees their fall colors.

She told the story of Jack Frost, the vengeful and malicious spirit that brought icy death to his victims.

The previous night had left Jack with a scene of the two of them, lying in the snow, watching the northern lights. This time she rambled on about not knowing how the next part of the story went until he woke up.

A dreamless sleep sounded very, very nice.

Regardless of how the anniversary went, Jack doubted he would be getting much sleep one way or another. There would be too much going on. He might as well get some sleep now.

"I would take it tomorrow night but I don't want to oversleep on Tuesday," Jack added.

"Good," Bunny nodded. "Rest'll do you good."

"That's the hope," Jack sighed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bunny said, cocking a brow.

There it was, just as Jack expected.

"Do I have a choice?" Jack said.

"Well, you can talk about it or you can agonize over it to the point that the next two days go by even slower," Bunny said with a slight shrug.

Today was already going by slower and slower the more he checked the time. Jack wasn't sure how the hell he was supposed to get through tomorrow. Part of him hoped that he would sleep through most of it.

The dream sand would put him out for a decent amount of time, and the lack of dreams should let his frequently exhausted mind actually rest for once. But once he woke up, that was it, he would be awake until this all settled, agonizing over the seconds.

"What even is there to say? At this point?" Jack said.

"Well. How do you feel about the anniversary?" Bunny said, as though it was an obvious place to start, or a simple question.

Jack sighed again. "Nauseous, like I said."

"Okay, why are you nauseous?" Bunny said, apparently trying to coax a more useful or articulate answer out of the younger spirit.

"Because everything is going to go to hell," Jack said.

"Hm," Bunny said thoughtfully. Jack wasn't sure there was anything about his answer that required further thought or analysis but Bunny apparently disagreed. "So, you think it's all going to go badly either way?"

Jack blinked, gaze falling to the table before him.

Everyone expected that he wanted Rowan back. And he did, of course he did. But…

"She didn't want this," he said.

Bunny nodded. "All the Muses seem to have a rough time starting out. But if Rowan does come back, she'll be at an advantage in that she already has an immortal support system."

"I guess," Jack said. "If one person is a support system."

"Do you not want her to come back?" Bunny asked. Jack's eyes quickly left the table, meeting Bunny's with furrowed brow.

"Of course, I do—I just—it's like—I—" Jack stammered for a moment before stopping short, taking a breath. All of his thoughts were quickly hitting a wall, derailing.

They just sat in silence for a moment as Jack's tired mind scrambled to find a coherent thought instead of a vague sense of doom.

How long could he sit there silently, trying to sort out what exactly it was that he was trying to say, before Bunny just left him frozen in the spot, a lost cause? Maybe they would find him years later, covered in cobwebs, still trying to answer this question.

"Take your time," Bunny said, leaning back in his seat.

Jack took a breath. The permission to not have an immediate answer seemed to slow things down enough to truly think again.

"I love her," Jack said, swallowing as he attempted to explain again. "I want to see her again. But everything—It's not—Everything's not suddenly okay if she's back. She still didn't want any of this. She already—she was having flashbacks and anxiety attacks before this. She's still dead to all her friends and family. It's just going to be me if she comes back."

"You're worried about being the only one she has," Bunny said. It was not a question; it was a statement.

Jack hesitated for a beat.

"Yes."

Silence. Jack's eyes met the table's surface again, his fingertip tracing the grain in the wood. He felt like he should explain himself, but the thoughts that had been crashing about incoherently before had now stopped entirely, offering nothing else outside the affirmation.

"Well," Bunny said after a few more silent moments, when it became clear that Jack was not about to elaborate. "It's a lot of pressure to be someone's entire support system. No wonder you're worried."

Jack glanced up again, confused to have been validated over this. Bunny usually pushed back against and challenged Jack, usually prompted him for more elaboration. Accepting Jack's one-word response felt odd.

"On the other hand, I do think this also lines up with your tendency to assume whatever you do is 'not enough,'" Bunny said.

There it was! Jack winced slightly as this pattern of his was pointed out again.

"Maybe," Jack said.

"Any chance she could patch things up with the Muses?" Bunny said.

"I don't know," Jack said. "I—I don't know if she holds a grudge, I didn't really know her long enough—I—"

"I mean, she entered a romantic relationship with the bloke that broke into her apartment and went through her things, she has some capacity for forgiveness," Bunny pointed out.

Jack actually managed a slight laugh.

It was true. Rowan's (understandable) fury at learning that Jack had been breaking into her apartment had been short-lived, all things considered. She had insisted that she still didn't trust him, but a few days later was allowing him to fly her across an ocean.

Soon enough, she was outright admitting that he was her friend, that she did trust him.

Surely that meant that some sort of civil relationship with the Muses was possible?

"I guess so," Jack said.

"She will need to try and find some kind of common ground with them at some point. Even if it's just a professional relationship," Bunny said. "The Muses are connected, whether they want to be or not."

Jack nodded.

Silence again.

Was this how the whole day was going to go? Bunny coaxing answers out of Jack and then awkward silences?

"For what it's worth, if she comes back, I think she'll be glad to still have you," said Bunny.

"Mm," Jack said, non-committal.

"Would she not be glad to have you around?" Bunny said, cocking a brow.

Jack's mind wandered straight back to the chest of drawers where the letter that Melpomene had written was still sitting in wait, unopened.

Melpomene, who he had met on a lovely winter's day and shared an instant connection with.

Melpomene, who walked with him, hand-in-hand, sharing smiles, inside jokes, nicknames.

Melpomene, who he was sure he was in love with and said as much, thrilled when she said it back.

Melpomene, who whispered woefully into his ear, dug into his insecurities, fed his intrusive thoughts, and grew stronger as he grew more and more miserable.

Melpomene, who laughed in his face and said that love was "lies we foolishly choose to believe."

"Jack," Bunny said. Jack had been lost in thought too long. "Did you hear me?"

"Yeah. Sorry," Jack said, rubbing at his face in exhaustion again, avoiding Bunny's eye. "I just—I keep—I—"

Should he bother to actually say it out loud?

He had tried to smother this thought every time it surfaced, but it came back over and over again, louder than it had before. The more he tried to hide from it, the quicker it found him again.

"I keep thinking," Jack said evenly, pausing to take a deep breath. "That things went as well as they did with her because they were cut short."

"Mm, so you're afraid she'll come back and the relationship will fall apart," Bunny said.

"Yeah," Jack admitted.

That would just be typical, wouldn't it? That Jack would wait a year to see her, that he would mourn what they had, only to get it back and promptly destroy it.

Maybe Jack Frost was supposed to just be alone.

"Well, maybe it will," Bunny said with a shrug, leaving Jack wincing. Bunny was agreeing with him again and it still felt uncomfortable. "But, maybe it won't. Maybe Rowan will come back and you'll pull off what Sandy and Calliope did somehow and end up together for millennia. There's no way to know."

This time it was the North Pole that Jack's mind wandered to, sitting with Rowan, her head on his shoulder, his hand in hers.

Rowan, whose story about an unlucky pirate he had eavesdropped on.

Rowan, who tased him during their first formal meeting.

Rowan, who denied trusting him for a short period of time.

Rowan, who quickly fell into the habit of exchanging taunts and teasing with him.

Rowan, who tried to save them both from heartbreak by rejecting him.

Rowan, who changed her mind.

Rowan, who he could still laugh with when romance got involved.

Rowan, who nervously said that she loved him, and it just felt right to say it back.

Rowan, who stopped being able to see or touch him for a time.

Rowan, whose bedside he sat by, desperately hoping she would be able to see him when she woke.

Rowan, who had sadly clarified that marriage and anything like it was not an option for them.

Rowan, who insisted they let the relationship go its course, that they should live their story while they could.

The story had ended so abruptly, in such an unsatisfying way. Wouldn't it be nice to have a second shot at that story?

Not if I fuck it up, that intrusive part of his mind chimed in.

"Why do you think things will go badly if you have more time with her?" Bunny asked, Jack having fallen silent once again.

Jack sighed, and said, "Melpomene."

He hoped that was all the reason he needed to give, unwilling to elaborate much. It had been difficult enough to relay what had happened in that relationship to the other Guardians once.

Bunny had already called it an abusive relationship. Did Jack really need to go into it?

"Ah," Bunny nodded. "Well, Rowan's not Melpomene, is she?"

"No," Jack said. He had been grateful for this fact before.

"Exactly," Bunny said. "It's not fair to her to expect things to go the way they did with Melpomene."

"Right," Jack said. "Granted, none of this matters if she stays dead."

That was the giant caveat that lingered over all the other anxieties.

All the counting down, all the anxiety, all the what-ifs, all the tears, all the longing, all the nightmares, it would all come crashing down, resetting all the clocks to zero, if by the time the sun set on Tuesday, Rowan Sawyer was still dead.

"Well, it's still what you're feeling now either way," Bunny said. "Maybe you're fixating on ways it will go badly if she comes back so you'll feel better if she doesn't."

"I—" Jack started, wanting to push back against the notion, stopping short.

This had happened before.

Tooth had suggested that Jack kept blaming himself for Rowan's death because the alternative was that he had no control over the situation at all. Jack had wanted to deny this, for the way he had tortured himself with all the ways he could possibly find to blame himself had not been comforting.

But the idea of having no control stung more.

Would Rowan staying dead be easier to swallow if he was sure that things would have gone badly anyway if she returned?

"Maybe," Jack said, defeated. "I, um. I don't know what I'm gonna do if she doesn't come back."

That simple statement was enough to trigger his tear ducts. How frustrating. Jack blinked rapidly, glancing away, hoping it wasn't obvious.

The fact was that very soon Jack might lose Rowan a second time.

She didn't want this.

She was happy where she was, wherever that was, some afterlife somewhere.

Happy, but worries. It's pretty standard-issue.

Jack had hoped that in the time it had been since learning from Baron Samedi that she was perfectly happy where she was, that he would feel better about this fact.

Still his heart cried out with the question, can't you be happy here, too?

She was at rest, she was content, that should be all he wanted in the world.

Maybe that was something that came with acceptance, that stage of grief that still felt so out of reach.

"It'll be tough," Bunny nodded. "Whatever happens, we're all here for you."

The other Guardians had all told him this or some variation before. They were around if he wanted to talk. They were there for him. They were in his corner.

But the idea of approaching one of them to unload every unsettling thought that flitted around his mind was so foreign.

In fact, the only time he had ever truly spoken candidly about all his insecurities, all his fears, all his depressed and desperate thoughts, was when he would spend lonely nights gazing at the moon, hoping desperately that it would provide some comfort.

The moon had provided him comfort, a sense of safety, only briefly on the night he had been revived as Jack Frost and the morning that he had taken his oath to officially become a Guardian.

The rest of the time, well, Jack was on his own.

But he knew how to be sad and alone, and so for most of his mourning, he had tried to do that. It was only after everything with Melpomene had been revealed that Bunny had started trying to get him to talk more. And even at that, it was not a common occurrence.

Jack supposed he appreciated that it wasn't something the others were trying to force on him.

Still, he wasn't quite sure what to do with the offered support.

"Thanks," he said, supposing that would suffice.