Elsa sat on the cot in her cell. The room was endlessly gray and very cold. As a child, she had never been allowed down in the dungeon. Her father always liked to joke he didn't see the point of them, so there wasn't any reason to explore. "And besides, Elsa," he'd say with a chuckle, "there isn't anyone down there." It had been true; the prison was at one point useless to them.

Obviously Hans and the court officials had found a use for it now.

At her core she didn't want to be here. She'd break out if she could. But there was something in her manacles, something that prevented her from turning them to ice and shattering both. She'd tried over and over, but the storm jettisoned back into her chest, restless and unable to crash through the metal. It was a terrible, frustrating feeling, not unlike when you feel the need to sneeze and it dies out before you can.

Then there was the side of her that was glad they'd caught her. One look outside the thin, rectangular window and she knew what they'd done must be the right thing. She'd covered all of Arendelle in a biting, relentless winter, and she couldn't stop it. In her selfishness she'd doomed her kingdom to a frozen life, and all because she was afraid. So stop being afraid. Get over yourself. But it wasn't that easy.

She was so tired of throwing pity parties. She was tired of pretending to protect everyone when what she was really doing was protecting herself. She was tired of everything being all about her. She was tired of being alone. The problem was, she didn't have the strength to try anything else. She didn't have the courage to hope—to believe—that there was any way she could have someone by her side. Elsa wanted that courage very, very badly. But she couldn't find it.

When she'd woken up here, she'd been terrified. And a little embarrassed. After the grand fight she'd put up! After showing off her mastery of magic with the palace, with Olaf, with Marshmallow, with the battle against the guards, with every snowflake outside that window…and she was trapped so easily. She felt pretty foolish.

And of course, Hans didn't make it better. Elsa had been looking through the glass, disgusted with what she'd made Arendelle into, when he pushed through the door carrying a lantern.

She rushed toward him, but her chains held her back. "Why did you bring me here?"

Hans wrapped his arms around himself, watching her awkwardly. "I couldn't just let them kill you."

It was the first time they'd actually had a real conversation since he'd come as a suitor. Her suitor. She shuddered at the thought. Back then she'd been too young and unfocused to see he wasn't for her. He seemed noble, though. He wasn't lacking good qualities, from what she could tell, but she didn't feel grateful to him.

"But I'm a danger to Arendelle!" Yes, she was tired of protecting herself, but she did believe the kingdom would be safer if the source of their eternal winter wasn't at its heart. "Get Anna!" Her sister had jurisdiction here; she could release Elsa.

"Anna has not returned." Hans' tone held a hardness, something firm, like a warning. Like he was testy about the subject.

Elsa had turned to gaze out the window again. Anna hadn't returned? But…where was she? How had she not gotten back yet? Unless she hadn't come straight home. Where else could she go?

Hans leaned closer, trying to get her attention. "If you could just stop the winter…bring back summer. Please."

Every word hurt her. He spoke for everyone out there, shivering and hating the cold. Every poor sneezing child and fretting parent. They all must think she could do something; she could still be their Queen, responsible and put-together, even in her worst hour. Just for a moment. Just enough to help them.

"Don't you see?" She turned to look desperately at Hans, into his eyes to make sure he knew she wasn't lying. "I can't."

He exhaled, looking thoughtful and stunned at the same time. His breath came out in fog between them, proving how chilly the cell must be. Elsa couldn't tell anymore.

"You have to tell them to let me go!"

Hans' voice was calm and leveled now. He showed no more fear. "I will do what I can." As if he were Arendelle's leader. If he wanted the job, he could have it. He could rule alongside Anna; they'd be good together. That is, if they had known each other longer than a day. But Anna could do what she liked now. All Elsa knew was that she couldn't stay here.

Hans had left, taking the lantern with him. Elsa thought that was a little unnecessary. He could've at least left her some light. Would her father's beloved land be dark with clouds and snow forever?

She'd been panicked ever since then. What had it been, an hour now? How would she survive this, pacing in this cell with nothing to do? She'd spent more time in one room than anywhere else in her life, but at least in her chambers there had been something with which she could occupy her mind. The ice crawling along her manacles had spread and died, spread and died, but it was never strong enough to break them.

Now she sat on the cot, hungry and exhausted and afraid. She wished someone were there to talk to. She didn't like the silence so much anymore. When she'd been in her room, Anna or the servants or Mama and Papa had always been outside that door, making sure she knew she didn't have to be by herself. Now she didn't have that anymore. She wanted someone to sit next to her, to put their arm around her, to tell her everything would be all right and she'd be out of here in no time. She pinched herself, hoping she'd wake up 7 years old again, and the accident with Anna, the years that followed, had been nothing more than a dream.

It was a nice thought. Wasn't true, but a nice thought.

Jack entered the cell from inside the castle. It wasn't in the least bit hard to swipe the keys; the guards had been talking to Hans upstairs, where the heat from each fireplace pushed down the staircase into the shadows of the prison.

Jack liked spiral staircases. He didn't like the ones that didn't have railings, because then he couldn't slide down them, and he briefly mourned the loss of a railing on this particular set of steps. The keys jangled from the crook of his staff as he walked past empty cell after empty cell. When he got to Elsa's, at the very end of the corridor, his heartbeat sped up.

He stopped outside her door. What do I say? What if she doesn't see me at all? What if I run out of time? What then, huh?

Nobody was there to answer these questions, and he suddenly missed Olaf.

He unlocked the door, took a deep breath, stepped in, and closed it. He looked up, but Elsa wasn't facing him. She was sitting on her cot, looking out the window. Whatever noises the door had made, she wasn't able to hear them because he had created the sounds. He fought the urge to scowl at that. Already things weren't going as planned.

The light from outside fell on her hair and set it to a bright white. Her dress glittered and the blue sparkles reflected in her bluer eyes. Jack caught his breath watching her. He hadn't realized what a familiar sight would do to him after just a few hours away. He really was very fond of this complicated girl. She'd become a welcome and reassuring presence in his life. He hoped to bring her the same peace.

Brushing off snow that wasn't actually on his shawl, Jack shuffled toward her, wondering if maybe she'd just see him any second or if he'd have to do something. He was used to believing it would be brought about through himself, not randomly. Never hurts to be careful.

He cautiously walked into her view, but she didn't react at all. She couldn't see him yet. He pushed down disappointment. Not this time. Today was a different day. A new one. Something was gonna give. He could feel it. This was important. This was something he needed to do, something that had nothing to do with how he felt or what he wanted.

Jack's eyes fell on her manacles. Was that even what you called those things? They were like big, metal mittens without slots for fingers, covering both hands. Anger poked and prodded at his brain. He'd take those stupid turquoise gloves over these.

"Making a fashion statement?" he said, quietly, in case she could hear instead of see and he might startle her.

Elsa made no sign.

Jack sat down next to her, bringing his feet up onto the cot in a slight crouch. He kept tight hold of his staff with one hand, slinging the other arm over his knee in a lazy way. Time was of the essence, but he got one day, and he was going to make it count, take it slow. There was no point in rushing now. Hans was still up there making final arrangements, before he put on some big show to get the officials of the neighboring lands on his side. They had a little while.

Elsa looked as if she wanted to bury her head in her arms, the way her face crumpled. But with those chains, she couldn't even do that. Jack saw the way frost spread over the manacles and disappeared again, shot down before it had a chance to change anything. A bit like him thus far.

Jack glanced down at her manacles again. He really hated looking at them, so dull and cruel. "Man, those look uncomfortable. What do you do when you get an itch?"

Elsa looked out once more at the snowstorm picking up beyond the window. She just wanted everything to stop. She wanted the quiet to break. It wasn't fair. She was so scared. So alone.

Jack leaned his head back against the wall, eyes still on his best friend. "I'm not giving up yet, Elsa. You're gonna get outta here."

Silence. It's gotta be her choice. I can wait.

Elsa sniffled. Tears filled her eyes. She still couldn't hear him. But she was done trying so hard to guard herself. She was done holding back any kind of protection, keeping the door closed on the possibility that things could get better for her. She was letting go.

"Please," she whispered. "I don't want to be alone."

"It's gonna be okay," Jack murmured, not touching her yet. "A Princess doesn't cry, right?" He couldn't stand to see her sob. "Hey—am I right?"

With a small exhale, he nudged her in that ticklish spot.

And it didn't pass through her.

Elsa felt a chill on her nose. A flash of merry in her eyes. Something in her brain opened up. She remembered building snowmen with Anna and running through the castle halls with Papa chasing her, studying geometry with Mama and snacking on chocolate after, waking up after midnight to redecorate the Great Hall with magic as Anna danced around her. She remembered so much laughter with feathery hair and a long crooked branch and...

Slowly, very, very slowly, Elsa turned to meet the warmest blue eyes in the history of the world.

"Jack."

She whispered it.

Jack's heart lit on fire. He sat up straight, jerking his head off the wall. It began to snow in the cell, rapidly, building up and collecting on the floor, on the cot, on the windowsill. Fog covered the glass and frost traced the crisscross iron pattern.

Oh, he'd missed hearing her say his name.

Elsa was looking at him with those wet, round, sky-colored eyes, and that hint of a rare smile and that dusting of freckles, and he felt like flying. He backflipped in front of her, landing on weak legs in that crouch. He wanted to dance, he was so filled with joy upon joy at that moment. She was so perfect, sitting there and gaping at him, right at him, his solid form, looking him up and down in shock and rapture. She can see me she can see me she can see me she can see me!

As for Elsa, her whole being was spinning in her seat, mind reeling. She couldn't take her eyes off the boy with the impish grin and the tears resting almost sheepishly in the corners of his gaze. He was real, real, he'd always been real! How could she have forgotten? She'd given in. She'd let her wall down; she wanted him to return. Wanted him to exist. He couldn't be imaginary; no one imaginary could make her feel so safe. He looked exactly the same, the same mature handsomeness he hated to accept, the same hyperactive fingers rubbing the patterns on his staff, the same devil-may-care smile with those perfect, white teeth. The same coziness when he watched her. He's here. He's back. Jack Frost. It felt so good to say it. She said it again.

"Jack!"

He laughed, but it was a breathy laugh, even less than his usual chortle. His hand came to grapple with the top of his head, a crazy smile on his face.

"I—I-I can't—"

"It is you!" Elsa bounced just a little in her seat, standing up. His voice was so raspy, so familiar, so wispy and different from Hans' and her father's and Olaf's and the dignitaries that had watched her every move at that ridiculous coronation. She loved hearing it. She wanted him to speak again.

Jack immediately rocketed to his feet with her, but he seemed to be trembling all over. She felt just as shaky. "You can see me. You can see me!"

Elsa wanted to put her hand to her mouth; trying to hide the wobble that crying would give it. But it was clunky with the metal enfolding it, so she didn't. She just kept smiling.

There was a long, quiet moment where neither of them could speak. Elsa's world had gone twirling and Jack's had screeched to a halt. They stared at each other, rather too long, each trying to make sure they were awake.

And then Jack's joy was smashed to pieces. The guilt fell heavily on him until he wanted to choke. His smile slowly drifted away. The tears came faster, but he'd had centuries of practice holding them back.

"I'm sorry, Princess," he whispered.

Elsa's eyebrows knit. "W-What?"

Jack dragged a hand through his hair, blinking constantly, trying to control his voice. "I should've been there, I-I-I should've stayed!"

Elsa knew exactly when he was talking about. She didn't even have to think about it. The terrible, shaded day she'd gotten word of her parents' passing. The day she'd lost faith in her best friend.

"It's all right," she began, working around the lump in her throat. "You don't have to—"

"No. No." He held up a hand, interrupting her. His voice was thick with urgency; he needed to get it all out. "I've waited three years to tell you I'm sorry. You're not gonna stop me now."

Elsa let out a broken laugh. "Please, if…if anyone should apologize, it's me. Three years, and…" She closed her eyes tight, unable to look at him. "I…only thought of myself. I couldn't see you."

She bit her lip and looked at her hands, at the ice encasing the manacles. The bitterness in her eyes was new. He'd always been so careful about making sure she knew he was there. He'd confided in her over and over, how afraid he was of never being noticed. And she'd been the first person to stop believing in him.

Jack figured he'd spent enough time talking now. He knew that face. He did what he'd longed to do since the day she'd walked through him.

He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around her, and folded her into a tight hug.

Elsa hugged him back, her chains rattling as she did. He could hear her crying as she returned the embrace. She cried for losing her parents and she cried for running away from home and she cried for hurting Anna. She'd wanted to feel him comforting her just as long as he had. It was exactly the same hug he'd given her when she was 7 years old.

"I missed you, Jack," she said.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut. "I missed you too, Princess."

It took much too long for them to finish the hug, and even when they did neither of them were satisfied yet.

Elsa pulled way first and tucked a strand of hair self-consciously behind her ear. She gave him a little smile that made his chest cave in, changing the subject so that she would stop weeping. It was getting embarrassing, and she knew how he hated tears. "Did you see my ice palace?"

"Oh, yeah, nice work." Jack rubbed his chin mockingly. "Could've used a slide somewhere, though."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I'll keep that in mind."

"Hey, too many stairs!"

Elsa laughed and hugged him again. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Never left."

She stared at him, but he didn't feel uncomfortable. He was too high up for that. Her eyes flicked from one of his eyes to the next, trying to read them. An unbelievable guilt cloaked her expression.

"You stayed all this time?"

Jack nodded once.

Elsa could not understand it. "But…why?"

Jack's eyes half closed and his pupils cut from the cot to the window to the floor. Of course she didn't know why. Why had someone like him, so restless and desperate to be known, followed her around when she'd abandoned him? Why hadn't he just left? It didn't make sense. If Anna didn't know what love was, Elsa knew even less.

"'Cuz…I don't know anybody more fun than you," Jack replied, shrugging. "What else was I gonna do?" He wanted to tell her the reason in the exact words anyone else would have chosen. He wanted to make sure she got it. But suddenly it was all he could do just to make eye contact.

Elsa seemed to read between the lines, if only a little. She smiled at him. "I don't deserve to call you my friend."

"Yeah, well." Jack returned the smile. "Deserving's got nothing to do with it."

They heard footsteps, shouting from somewhere outside, somewhere upstairs. Jack froze, then turned to Elsa, the urgency of the situation suddenly crashing into him.

"Let's get you outta here." Jack's fist closed around his staff, and blue spiraled down its flaky wood. He leaned down toward Elsa's manacles.

"Wait—Jack—" Elsa glanced toward the door, frantic. "You can't do anything!"

"Thanks, you're real encouraging."

"No—your magic can't break it! It's not strong enough." She looked down, a little ashamed. "And neither is mine."

"I know." Jack glanced up at her. "That's why I'm here. You're not strong enough." Before she could open her mouth to argue, expression indignant, he held up a hand. "And I'm not either." He looked at the staff in his fingers, trying to help her understand. "You have no idea how helpless I felt when nobody saw me. When I was all alone."

Elsa looked at the top of his shaggy head, wishing he'd cast his eyes back up to her. "Yes, I do."

He grinned to let her know he'd already thought of that, hand still up to warn her to let him finish. "Look—together, you and me, we can get you out. But we gotta hurry."

Elsa nodded rapidly, eyes darting to the door again. "We don't have much time."

"I-I know." He watched her as she kept her gaze fixed on the door. Jack's voice became quiet. "I know."

"What do I do?" Elsa fidgeted with her chained hands for a moment, glancing back at him. She wanted his instruction. He should teach her. Like he'd always taught her.

"Just…breathe in. Think of something—"

"—good. I remember."

As Elsa concentrated, Jack drew a soft pattern of squiggles in the thin layer of snow piled on the floor. "Glad you finally saw me today, Princess."

"So am I..." Elsa's voice was distracted; she was trying to focus, her eyes closed. "What's so special about today?"

He had to tell her. He didn't know if it would do much. If he upset her somehow, everything could fall apart, and that was the last thing she needed.

Quietly, he began to explain about the trolls. About how Grandpabbie had granted her the ability to see Jack again, for the remainder of the day, if she could just choose to believe again, in a single moment.

Elsa concentrated on his voice and the pine needle smell he always brought with him. She concentrated on how happy he'd made her in the time they'd been friends. Everything would be all right, now that she had someone. Now that she had Jack.

Then, nails digging into his staff, he told her the cost. Hard as he tried to explain it, he found it best just to put in a single sentence.

"This is the last time you…" His voice caught, and he pushed down the despair. No more crying. "Last time you can see me."

Elsa stopped. Everything about her paused for an agonizing moment, and her eyebrows knit as though she were trying to make sense of what he'd said. She opened her eyes, only slightly. "What do you mean?"

Jack wished she would get it the first time, just once. It wasn't that she wasn't smart—she was one of the cleverest people he knew. She was giving him a chance to fix what he'd told her, to make sure there wasn't some mistake. He didn't want to say it twice. The light coming in from the window was clouding over; the winter outside was getting wilder. What little snow left on the hard floor crunched and shuffled, just a bit, as he moved his feet awkwardly.

"You're not leaving again?" He could hear her breathing quicken at the thought. Her voice was calculated.

"No—no, I'm not leaving," Jack insisted hastily. "I-I'm just…it's…it's how it works." He hated how it worked. "You might not've seen me on your own…and…" He realized how offensive that sounded. But what was more painful to him was that she didn't disagree. "I needed you to. So I could be here—so I could help you out. We have one day, Princess. Then it's over."

Elsa's right foot moved backward, toward the cot, as if she needed to sit down. She was strongly considering it. The thought of losing her friend all over again, this time for good, now that she knew and believed he was real—more real than anyone else in her life so far—was crippling. Every fiber in her royal body wanted her to remain composed, keep the drama to a minimum, but what would you do, if you heard what she had? She was wounded. Confused and wounded. But the worst part was, it was all her fault. If she hadn't let Jack down in the first place, hadn't chosen to give up on him, he wouldn't have had to go to such an excruciating length. She wouldn't have needed the extra push just to have faith again. She didn't want to show how upset she was. She couldn't make it all about her this time.

Instead of bursting out everything she was thinking, Elsa realized she had lost her concentration, and her magic was dying out in her hands. The ice beginning to cloak her manacles had disappeared, and the storm retreated back into her.

All she could think to say aloud, in the face of Jack's revelation, was a meek, "I-I can't do it. I—my powers won't work, i-it's…I'm still not strong enough."

"See, that's what I was trying to tell you, Princess." Jack's voice was kind, but still soft, as if he were trying to be still and poised—everything she was and everything he wasn't. He'd learned from the best. Besides, he reasoned, being an emotional puddle wasn't going to free his friend. He had to calm her first, and then they could orchestrate a prison break.

"'Member the night I met you?"

She nodded, pursing her lips.

"Everything got better. Somebody needed me. I've been around a long time, and nobody ever needed me before then. I wasn't alone anymore." Jack stood up. "You got better, too. I mean, who else could build a better castle? …Even if it does need a slide someplace." Elsa managed a smile at that. "You made me stronger, Elsa, 'cuz you needed me."

"I still do." Elsa felt the stinging behind her eyes, but she held it back.

"We're better together, right?" Jack grinned. "That's the answer." He looked down at her chains.

Elsa nodded. She closed her eyes, inhaling, trying to forget how little time she had left with him now. Jack closed his eyes too, lowering his head. His hands hovered in the air above her manacles. Elsa felt the storm responding to her, and Jack felt the cold breathe out of him. Frost covered the metal and blue sparks swirled in a halo around it.

They could hear the guards outside. Jack bolted to the door, adding an extra layer of his magic to the manacles so that it would keep spreading while he worked on the cell's entrance. He struck his staff against the door, and ice climbed the walls all around it.

"You heard what they said! She's to be executed!"

"She's dangerous—quickly!"

"Careful!"

"It won't open!"

"It's frozen shut!"

Elsa began pulling and pulling on her chains, eyes open again. She was panicking again. Hans had said he'd do what he could to protect her, but as usual, the Prince of the Southern Isles was about as much help as a sack of rocks. Those guards wanted to kill her.

Jack turned and flew to her, trying to save precious seconds. "It's okay, it's okay. Don't listen to them. Listen to me. All right? We're gonna get you out; you're gonna be back in that ice castle before you know it. Then you can build us a slide! That's it. Just focus, Princess. You can do it."

"Okay. Okay." Elsa kept nodding, speaking in whispers, letting him know she was trying, breathing through her nose and calming her heartbeat. Jack held his hands back in the correct position.

Elsa looked down. Glowing snowflakes fell onto the manacles, and a low, creaking sound followed, as if they were made of acid and were melting the bonds away. With the winter boy's frost and the snow queen's ice, the manacles gave a single, echoing CRRRACK.

They dropped to the floor.

Elsa's mouth bloomed into a lovely, beaming grin. "It worked!" Delighted to have nothing holding her back from it now, she threw her arms around Jack. He is shawl felt warm beneath her palms. He'd always felt warm to her.

As much as it made him sizzle inside, Jack knew they didn't have time for another hug. He gently pushed her off. "Now it's time to make a break for it."

"How?" Elsa looked around the room.

"Hey, I'm not the one who made a snow monster and a kitchen on the same day. You got this one."

Elsa glanced at the wall with the window, then back to her friend. "We should do it together."

Jack smirked. "Can you keep up?"

She raised a hand, a ball of twinkling blue dancing at the ready just above it. "Can you?"

Jack cracked his knuckles. "One exit, comin' your way."

When the guards and Prince Hans entered the room, they found a startling lack of a north wall, a thin blanket of snow still over the cot, and a pair of broken, icy shackles lying on the ground.