Small, pure white snowflakes fell from the clouds. They swayed in the breeze, spinning and swirling in a mystifying dance with one another. No mortal would hear their joyous laughter or experience their playful demeanor. Snowflakes kept to themselves, always welcoming the company of their own kind but shy of others. They fell to the ground, lying on the cold dark asphalt like fine confectionary sugar. Millions before them had melted away into microscopic puddles, but they were ignorant to the fact. The ones who had perished made it cold enough for their kin to land safely. That in itself was enough to keep the snowflakes happy. They knew that, had it been them, they would have offered their younger generation the same protection from the once far too warm ground. Family was family, no matter how long you knew them.

For those nestled within the cracks of the sidewalks and the nooks of the roof, they silently fell asleep on a mild winter's night. Other soon followed in a lazy game of sardines, hundreds packing into less than a centimeter of space. The ones in the air continued their waltz, growing excited as they felt an approaching cold wind. However, they were shocked when their wielder sped by without a second glance in their direction. He left thousands confused in his wake, interrupting their dance. They were shocked and a little scared as they were ripped away from their partners. In vain, they called out to their companions, their immediate family, but many found themselves too far away. They drifted down, down onto the pavement and rooftops and car hoods. As they landed meters away from the ones they had known since their brief creation, they cried out for the ones they lost. Their anguish was lost among the new generation, gently falling in a waltz of their own.

However, even as he flew farther and farther away from the flurries, Jack heard them. Every single cry of despair and longing rang through his head. He knew what they felt like, understood their pain, and wished for nothing more than to fix it. No matter how many times he flew through a dusting, he would and could never forget the sound of loneliness. Some days, he hovered above his fallen snowflakes and whispered apologies. He would apologize for making them experience a taste of his isolation for he would never wish it upon anyone, even his worst enemy. He spoke to them in a low voice, whispering soothing and broken phrases to ones long since buried by the snowfall. For the longest time, he longed for someone to hold him and whisper those sweet nothings to him. He wished for someone to tell him that he belonged, that he had a family, and they would never leave him. Well, the Guardians had given him that family.

And then it was cruelly ripped away.

Ignoring his stinging hand, Jack willed his tears away and flew onwards. He needed to move, to leave, to never look back and to never stop. If he did, then the pain would destroy him. The past would crash into the present and destroy the future. He needed to forget, but he stopped himself. Forgetting would mean turning his back on Jamie. He would be betraying his best friend, the one he broke in both mind and body. No, he needed to remember how everything spiraled out of control, how he lost everything over the course of a few hours.

Laughter wafted through the town as grumpy adults and teenagers received phone calls at the ungodly hour of 6:30 AM. Upon hearing the message, every teen happily went back to sleep with two words echoing in their heads: Snow Day. Jack gave a mischievous smirk as small clumps of white fell and continued to coat the area. He was floating over the rooftops, simply enjoying the sight of his creation sparkling under the artificial light of the lampposts. Looking up, he could see the stars flickering through his clouds. A strong gust of wind nudged threw him off balance, forcing him to maneuver to the right. With a chuckle, he shook his head. The Wind obviously wanted him to go somewhere else.

"Alright," he said as the Wind pushed him higher into the sky. "Where to next?" Without hesitation, the breeze keeping him aloft became a strong burst of air. The force propelled him high above the clouds and tossed him to and fro. He laughed as the Wind sent him on its own path. Extending his arms, he tilted his head back and just immersed himself in his flight. Pure freedom engulfed his very being as he soared across the night sky. Bathed in moonlight, Jack ran a hand through the clouds. On the other side, small flurries began to fall on the Himalayas.

He let the Wind guide him across the globe. It spun him, dipped him through the clouds, and caressed him lovingly. It never lost him or dropped him. The Wind was a close friend, a sibling, and Jack trusted it with all his heart. Three centuries only strengthened the bond.

There had been a time where Jack was afraid of the Wind. About a week after rising from the ice, he tried to control his flight. At that time, he believed he could control the archaic force of nature. That was his first mistake. The second was actually restraining the Wind. He channeled whatever magic he could muster into manipulating the air current. He hovered above the thick lake ice for half a minute before being thrust upwards. He had screamed as sharp branches carved lines into the skin on his arms. He felt fear as he rose above the conifers and absolute terror when he was sent freefalling towards the translucent surface.

He remembered the cracks spiderwebbing from the epicenter of the impact. His powers had naturally frosted over them, leaving hairline streaks below the icy layer. Pain radiated through his body and he remembered apologizing. He cried and apologized to the Wind even though it sounded utterly ridiculous at the time. He said something about being alone and wanting a friend. He explained that he was just curious and didn't realize that the Wind kept him above the ground rather than his magic. He whimpered every time he tried to move and asked for help when he couldn't make it more than a few millimeters. He resigned to lying on the ice when he remembered that he was invisible. All he could do was trace the miniature fissures under their thin covering and wait for something to happen. He waited for what felt like hours, whispering brokenly to himself about random things in order to keep his mind away from the pain.

That's when he felt it.

Something tickled his ear and ghosted through his hair. It sent shivers down his back, but he didn't dislike the feeling. In fact, it comforted him. The ministration continued and Jack could feel himself smiling. He let out a hoarse laugh as his cloak fluttered in the breeze. The Wind softly flew by his ear again and he heard its apology. For a minute, he believed himself insane. But the Wind didn't stop. It tried to pick him up again, encouraged him to stand and try once more. Despite the agony, he shakily climbed to his feet. Leaning against his staff, he broke out in a triumphant smile as the Wind danced in joy around him. It had thought that it killed him, harmed him beyond recognition. It only wanted to scare him a little and prove itself a stronger force than the new winter spirit. In its prideful actions, it had gone too far.

After weeks spent curled up in a snow bank, he and the Wind worked together as partners. When the weather got too warm, it flew him to other places in need of snow. It showed him the wonder of Santoff Claussen and the sequestered Antarctica. It took him to different cities and countries. It showed him its favorite caves where they could just shout at nothing and have the rocks yell back. They played and laughed and their friendship blossomed. Yet through it all, the Wind never forgot when it purposely dropped the child and the shame that went with it. It promised to never do such a thing again. In return, Jack trusted it with his life.

As he glided through the air, he thanked the Wind once again. The Wind would never abandon him and when he fell, it would always catch him. It would always find a way to make things work and it would always, always, find a way to talk to him.

He raced through the clouds without caring for the landscape beneath him. In this part of the world, no snow fell, no frost decorated the windows and no ice coated the ground. It was a week to Christmas and still no sign of winter. Thousands of thought flew across Jack's mind as he tightened the grip on his staff. Unanswered questions and old demons burst through the floodgates and overran every happy memory he had gained. Why him? Why did he lose control like that? Why did it happen to the person who believed in him the most?

The Wind tried to comfort him. It pushed him through the skies, across time zones. There wasn't a set destination in mind, travelling only for the journey. It tried to distract him with playful gestures, by ruffling his hair and tugging on the strings of his hoodie. Nothing got through to the boy, its beloved little brother, and the Wind felt failure. In its last attempt at comfort, a quiet whistle blew past Jack's ear. A simple melodious tune with no rhyme or rhythm was all the Wind could offer. Jack sighed in response and urged the Wind to go faster. That's how this all started. An innocent little whistle turned his world into a nightmare. But he would never blame the Wind for what happened.

No, he would always blame himself. He always had and he always will.

There was a whisper in his ear. It was nothing more than a zephyr, a murmur lost in the crowd. But Jack knew the Wind. He knew when it was happy and when it was sad. He knew how it loved to send him on wild rides across the world, letting him surf on the updraft of its playfulness. He knew it wasn't fond of others trying to tame it like a caged lion. The Wind was a roaming spirit, a wanderer in a sense. The Wind went where it wanted to go and when to go. Nobody told the Wind what to do. So when the ignorant elemental came along and demanded that the Wind carry it, Jack could only watch with amused eyes as the spirit was chased away or crashed into a tree. He would laugh, the Wind joining his mirth in a silent chuckle. It tossed leaves around lightly, made the branches sway with its joy. Jack knew the Wind and the Wind knew Jack.

It was only natural that Jack learned its language.

The tickling gust sent to his ear would have been brushed off by anyone else. Many would swat at an invisible bug. Others would snap at the Wind, telling it to leave them alone. Jack was the only one who could understand the gesture for what it was. It was a message, a harbinger of the sorts. Something was off. Something just wasn't right in the world.

He could almost hear the voiceless words. In the back of his mind, the implication was clear. His playful flight ceased as dread filled the pit of his stomach. The Wind was distressed, rushing past his ears in a desperate manner. It was speaking frantically, not knowing what to make of its information. "Hey, slow down," Jack spoke softly as he swallowed his own anxiety. "What's wrong?" As the Wind brushed past him again, he immediately darted off in the direction of Burgess. Concern and worry urged him to increase his speed. Cities and time zones flashed by as Jack made his way to the United States, the Wind's proclamation fresh in his mind.

Pitch was with Jamie.

Moments later, he was nose-diving to the boy's house. The Wind sent a powerful draft to stop him before slamming into the bedroom window. Peering inside, Jack noticed nobody was there. Before he could complain or protest, a gust sent him to the ground. He wobbled as he gained his balance, looking through the living room window by chance. A gasp escaped his lips as soon as he saw the Nightmare King leering over the small brown haired child. Without a second thought, Jack sprinted to the front door and burst through the entryway. The door had been slightly ajar and unlocked, a worrying combination.

Tearing around the corner of the hallway, his staff crackled with energy. Brilliant blue frost decorated the shepherd's crook as Jack fired a warning shot at the shadows. "Jamie!" he shouted, darting over to the boy.

"I told you he'd come!" Jamie taunted Pitch, sticking his tongue out in the process. "I'm not afraid of you!" Pitch ignored the child, turning his attention to the teenager instead.

"A little on the tardy side, aren't you?" he said with a disapproving gaze. "North wouldn't be proud." His response was a powerful blast of frost to the face. Unfortunately for Jack, Pitch had dropped into the shadows on the floor milliseconds before the attack could hit. Positioning himself protectively in front of Jamie, Jack eyed the shadows warily. Multiple wisps took false swipes at the pair, prompting Jack to fire off a stream of ice at nothing more than a wall. His eyes widened as, one by one, the light bulbs in the lamps burst. Glass exploded from underneath the lampshades and while most of the blast was absorbed by the material, Jack threw himself over Jamie as the shards pelted his back. As soon as the stinging stopped, the winter spirit spun around. The room was nearly pitch black, a beam of light entering the front window from a streetlamp.

"Brave little Jack Frost is here to save an insignificant brat. How touching," Pitch's voice echoed from the darkness. Neither boy knew where the source of the voice was coming from, but Jack didn't let that bother him. Instead, he planted a smirk on his face.

"You might want to think about who you insult," Jack replied smoothly. "That 'insignificant brat' is the reason why you're stuck haunting the floorboards beneath kids' beds. If you're not careful, kids will have to start calling their moms to vacuum out the Demon Dust Bunny." Jamie snickered. Somewhere in the darkness, Pitch frowned.

"Petty work? Incredibly so. Rewarding? Well, it's enough to make the boy's life a living nightmare."

"Not while I'm here," Jack scoffed. "You've got no chance of getting to Jamie." There was a pause and, for a moment, Jack assumed Pitch had fled before he could sustain any injury. But then, he felt something slither behind him.

"Who said anything about Jamie?" Jack jumped and spun. The voice had been right next to his ear. He barely caught a glimpse of Pitch slinking back into the darkness as Jamie struggled to recover from his panic attack. "I remember your sister," Pitch stated. Jack flung his head to the right and left, hands tightening their grip on his conduit.

"Don't lie to me," Jack snapped.

"I'm not. Her fear was just cascading off of her. It was a wonderful meal. The fear of death is one of the most powerful and common among mortals. The fear of immediately dying is even more so. She had condemned herself to death already, asking for forgiveness and uttering useless apologies. Your fear for her safety was just as grand…as well as your foresight."

"Shut up," he muttered through clenched teeth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a mini-fairy dart away from the window. Tooth would be on her way soon. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he needed help. This wasn't a show of strength; it was a show of endurance. Pitch was hitting all the pressure points and Jack's walls were crumbling. When this was all over, he'd thank Tooth for the help and insist that he could've handled it on his own. Everything would go back to normal. But now, he could only pray that Tooth got to him before something bad happened.

"You knew someone would die that day," Pitch continued as he stalked around his prey. "So why not say goodbye to Jackson Overland? He hardly worked in the village and was a nuisance to all but the children. Oh, how Jackson Overland loved to play! His mother said that his antics would get him killed one of these days. Can you believe how true she was? It was your idea to ice skate and your idea killed you. Do you know what happened to your sister? Naturally, she blamed herself and cried herself to sleep every night. Come spring, nobody could find the body of Jackson Overland and her tears continued to fall. In fact, the whole family was never the same again."

"Shut up!" Jack shouted as he slammed his staff on the floor. Frost crawled up the walls of the room and Jamie shivered. Pitch merely laughed.

"Why do you care? You're not Jackson Overland. Why, you're Jack Frost! You're the one who brings winter and fun, cold and death. You're the one pretending to be a Guardian of Childhood. You're the one who still doesn't understand or remember your past. You make a mess of everything and wonder why you can't change. How many times has North scolded you? How long has Bunnymund yelled at you? When has anyone ever praised you for creating a blizzard or thanked you for snow? No one does because it brings coldness and fear."

"That's not true!" Jamie shouted, glaring at the wall. He turned to Jack and smiled. "Snowballs and fun times, right?" Before Jack could respond, something hard collided with his body. He was thrown over the couch with enough force to knock it over. The air was forcefully expelled from his lungs and he felt a pair of hands pinning his arms above his head. He struggled to suck in a deep breath as his captor leaned over his face.

"The boy may have a point, but you've always been a troublesome child," Pitch stated. Wood clashing against a wall broke through Jack's harsh breaths. A soft buzzing soon followed. "What would your father say about your behavior?"

He barely registered the nightmare sand ramming into his temple.

He gasped as old and new memories flashed before his eyes. He saw a man with a strip of leather slamming the item into a young boy's back. He saw a blizzard devastate the East Coast, leaving so many families freezing and trapped in powerless homes. His back stung with phantom pain and his mind rebelled at his past actions. He watched as the Titanic sank, hearing the voices of parents comforting their children before the frigid seawater could take them prisoner. There was so much despair, so much death, and Jack couldn't handle it.

Without thinking straight, he threw Pitch off of him. Abandoning his staff, a lone icicle formed in his hand. He willed the point to grow sharper as he imagined it tearing into grey flesh. A sinister grin adorned his features as he locked eyes with the Nightmare King. Pitch Black was going to die tonight.

All morals and hesitations were left behind as Jack leapt at the bewildered spirit. Pitch disappeared into the shadows as Jack stabbed his weapon downwards. "Never mention him again!" he shouted in rage.

"Jack, calm down!" a feminine voice called out. He promptly ignored it as he spotted Pitch trying to materialize. He rushed over to the far corner of the room, knocking down a lamp in the process.

"I was human and I made mistakes," Jack yelled as he missed the Boogeyman yet again. "My dad punished me for them! No matter how hard I tried to please him, it would always end with his belt! He was never proud of me!" His head swiveled in all directions, not registering Tooth cradling Jamie in her arms. "How dare you bring that up?! Don't remind me of my faults! You don't know what 300 years does to someone! I talked to snowdrifts and trees just to keep myself from going completely insane! Do you like to see me insane? You caused this!" He didn't really know who he was yelling at anymore. Names and faces kept flashing through his mind: the Moon, Pitch, his father, the Guardians…

"We need to stop this," Pitch whispered to Tooth from the shadows. With a muffled yelp, she came face-to-face with the Nightmare King. She raised an eyebrow skeptically, pulling Jamie closer to her feathered torso. Even through the stress of witnessing a mentally unstable Jack, she managed to pull off a venomous glare.

"Why didn't you think about that before now?" she quipped. "Have you ever heard of PTSD?"

"Of course I have! I don't always live under a rock!" Pitch snapped. "But this is out of hand. How was I supposed to know that 300 years would cause this? I understand Jack as much as the rest of you do. He's good at hiding." Just as Tooth was about to comment on the Guardians' progress with unraveling the enigma of Jack Frost, Pitch added, "Don't kid yourself. How much do you really know?" Her protestations fell dead on her lips.

Before either of them could initiate a plan to stop Jack, the winter spirit caught the last of their exchange. Hurt emanated from his eyes, but was quickly replaced with rage. "You're all against me. I knew I couldn't trust anyone!" Fear flashed through his dilated pupils. "You're trying to get rid of me…you'd rather listen to him than me!" Jack lunged towards the trio and ripped the male away from the group. He tossed the body through the air, letting it smash against the second lamp in the room. Stalking over to his victim, he finally thrust his icicle into solid flesh.

Screams tore from his quarry's throat as the shard came down again and again. Blood coated pale hands and soon ran in rivulets onto the floor. Before the body beneath him grew still, Jack gazed into fearful brown eyes. As the final breath left the body, the eyes asked him one question.

Why?

Jack's pupils shrunk as he recognized that particular shade of russet. He was transported back to the thin lake ice, staring into his sister's apprehensive gaze. The familiar brunette bangs, the rounded face, the child-like innocence…

A wall of nightmare sand crashed into his body, slamming him into the wall below the window. Outside, he could vaguely hear the Wind howling in desperation. Through bleary eyes, he watched the same happen to Tooth as Pitch took his leave. His body ached with bruised ribs and a concussion. However, he willed himself to stay conscious for as long as possible. Staring at the area just behind the couch, he felt dread fill his body just as quickly as the oncoming blackness. As his eyes fluttered shut, one thought raced through his cracked mind.

He murdered Jamie Bennett.

Jack shook his head violently. Why'd he do it? Why couldn't he gain control over himself?

He urged the Wind to push him faster, not daring to look down at the familiar roofs and forests. A pang of homesickness flared through his heart, nearly making him nosedive to his lake. He would have loved nothing more than to curl up on the smooth ice and let his frost patterns decorate where he lay. Perhaps he'd cry for Jamie and try to block out the memory with snowballs and fun times. Maybe he'd just sit there and stare at the heinous design imprinted on his hand. He would probably shout and slam his staff into random rocks and create a snowstorm. Yet when he realized what he had done, he would stop and let everything come back to haunt him. He would let every negative emotion sink in, permit the abandonment and hatred to run rampant in his mind because, in the end, he deserved it all. And then he would shut down and lament and try to apologize because Jamie never deserved any of this. Sophie didn't deserve to lose her brother.

And that's why Jack could never return to Burgess.

When he became a Guardian, he promised to protect all children. He swore to never let a family feel the pain of losing their child. While it was a huge undertaking that couldn't always be accomplished, he made it personal for the Bennetts. The siblings inadvertently helped him regain his memories. They reminded him so much of the days long since passed, a time where everything was easier and harder. He remembered working with his father, his mother making arrangements for a summer marriage, and playing with his sister. He had entertained children around campfires and taught his sister everything he knew about having fun. His oath as a Guardian required that he do the same for every child.

But now, he had hurt the one he had sworn with his life to protect. The wounds were too fresh, too raw. Returning to Burgess would be the equivalent of North smashing his fist into his face. It would hurt. He'd lose control. A storm far worse than the 2011 Snowmaggedon would arise. More people would get hurt. Children would cry.

Hadn't he done enough damage to the town by taking one of their own?

His marred hand clenched around the ancient wood of his staff. He couldn't be trusted around people, around anyone for that matter. The Man in the Moon made him too powerful and too unpredictable. Who in their right mind would give a hormonal teenager power over the winter weather?

No, he didn't deserve the comfort of home (even if that home was in the form of a perpetually frozen lake). He didn't deserve any alleviation from his pain, for Jamie had suffered merciless cruelty at his hands. Jamie never got a say in the matter. The boy had been innocent and caring. He never deserved to die. But he did all because his best friend was too mentally unstable to be around kids. Two tiny, insignificant trigger words had set him off in the rant of his life. His previous shouting filled his ears and all he could do was clamp his hands over his ears in a desperate attempt to stop the internal voice. It was a childish gesture and insufficient, but it made him believe he could shut the voice up. Through scrunched eyes and a clamped jaw, he felt the Wind wrap around him. Soft gusts breezed through his hair in a soothing manner, as if someone was running their fingers across the white locks. It nudged at his hands, trying to whisper unspoken words of comfort to its broken charge.

However, all efforts were in vain. Jack wouldn't let himself land in the place of his birth. Although the action left him in grievous mental pain, he passed over his lake. There was no going back to the way things used to be. Instead of being ignored, he was hated. Instead of being left alone, others would probably come to seek him out and give him a piece of their mind. The other spirits hadn't been completely accepting of his induction. Most had grudgingly acknowledged the fact that the winter hellion was a Guardian. But now, now they had been proven right. Winter couldn't save a child. Winter was harsh and unforgiving. It was survive or be frozen. Winter was merciless and so very cold. How could Jack Frost become a Guardian when even he couldn't control the very nature of his season?

Apparently, Jack had been a fool for hoping that he could actually be a good Guardian. Now, he was exiled from the ones he called family and remorse kept him away from the only home he had known for 300 years. He was in for a lifetime of isolation and depression. His center was gone, replaced with melancholy and resignation. There was nothing he could do to change the past. He'd be lucky if he lasted a year without going completely insane. He shook the thought from his head. He needed to land.

Flicking his staff, the Wind cradled him in his descent. He watched as the ground came to meet his feet, tree branches uncomfortably trying to caress him. The air currents curled around his body in a loving embrace and some drifted across his ears. Jack waved them off as words of comfort. If it was important, the Wind would have been more persistent. Pale feet met hardened soil and Jack immediately sat down upon the contact. Leaning against the rough bark of a pine tree, he pressed a hand to his face. The other reached for the back of his neck, scratching at irritated skin. Jack chalked it up to his encounter with Pitch's nightmare sand slithering across the area. A little light seemed to go off in Jack's head.

Oh yeah, he sustained mild injuries.

Who cares?

…Nobody.

Pulling his knees closer to his body, he placed his staff next to him and wrapped both arms around his legs. Placing his forehead against his knees, he simply focused on breathing and thinking.

Jamie was gone.

Breathe in.

He wasn't a Guardian.

Breathe out.

He was back in isolation.

Breathe in.

It was worse because he knew what had been lost.

Breathe out.

Nobody would come to help him.

Breathe in.

He still had the Wind.

Breathe out.

He still had the memories.

Breathe in.

And maybe with those, he could work towards redemption.

Breathe out.

But what if it wasn't an option? The mark on his hand would drive everyone away. No sane spirit would want to be in his company for a social visit. He was branded as a traitor, one not to be trusted. Friendship was built on trust. Therefore, nobody would be his friend. Nobody would try to branch out and get to know him. They'd assume and all would be lost. If the Guardians hated him, so did everyone else. He would have to live with the loneliness and abandonment. His failures would forever be burned into his mind, reminding him that he could never do anything right. He'd cause blizzards and people would die and wouldn't the world be so much safer without him?

In, out, in, out…

Hyperventilating.

Suddenly, a soft glow fell upon Jack's cocooned body. He slowly raised his head to the source and found the moonlight trickling through the barren canopy. It was his season now and he couldn't hate it more.

Despondent cobalt peered into the heavens. Stars twinkled and winked around the moon, their joy lost upon the young spirit. Jack couldn't help but feel betrayed. The Moon had simply watched as he executed his crime. The Moon did nothing to stop the death and suffering.

"Why?" he whispered to the sphere in the sky. "Why would you let this happen?" he asked, voice gaining volume. Clenching his eyes shut in frustration, he sent a blast of frost into the air. "Why couldn't you protect him from me?! Why did it have to be him?" He sank to his knees, shoving his curled hands against his forehead. He could hear frost racing across the wood as the silence encased his very being. "Why didn't you do anything to stop me?"

Jack's hands hesitantly fell from his face to his sides. Pure blue irises gazed longingly at the brilliant orb among the stars. There was no patronizing. There were no harsh words of abhorrence. No judgments were passed upon him or disappointment for a spirit led astray. The moon simply chased away the darkness with its radiant beams, protecting its creation from the malicious children of the shadows. In that moment, Jack felt a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, something would go right. Perhaps something miraculous would tip the scale in his favor.

Maybe he wouldn't be alone again.

He swallowed in an attempt to moisten his dry throat. Gathering his courage, he opened his mouth to speak. And maybe, just maybe, the moon would reply. So with a stuttering and hesitant voice, the question was asked.

"C-Can you help me?"

However, the moon has a tendency to remain a silent figure in the sky. Jack fell asleep while waiting for any sign of a response. He wouldn't realize until morning that his broken question received no answer.

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update. My brain decided to take an extended leave of absence from this story. Dunno how well this went. :P All I know is that angst writing is ten times easier when you're actually angsting about something. True story. This'll probably be the last chapter with interrupting flashbacks for a while. No wait, that's a bit of a lie. There are dreams in the next chapter. :3 Also, thanks so much for all the follows, favorites, and reviews from the last chapter! :D Looks like I made a lot of people cry…awesome!