Hewo,

Just a bit more fluffiness. . This marks the beginning of a B-E-A-UTIFUL friendship. ;P

DFTBA,

doubtfulfig

For the next few days, I played the part of "bed-ridden patient" rather pathetically. Everything made me jumpy. I just wanted to grab Emmett and curl up with him in a corner somewhere. Somewhere where it was just us, so we could talk about what had happened, so I could tell him I'd protect him better in the future. There was so much I wanted to say…

But I was forced to stay in this stupid bed, with this cold boy bringing me loaded cups of coffee and bowls of soup. My ulcers seemed to calm down a bit, which meant I could eat a bit more food before feeling like I had to puke it all up, but in every other way imaginable, I was uncomfortable. In the abundant hours I spent sleeping, visions of a twisting little body, or whispers of laughter and sinking shadows, or that winding road in Canmore… all of it haunted me. Every single time I felt my eyelids droop, I bit the inside of my lip, curling my fingernails into the skin of my palms, desperately trying anything to keep myself awake. I felt ashamed, that I dreaded closing my eyes. That, after everything I'd been through, I couldn't get a grip on myself to just sleep, because it had morphed into my biggest fear. Just my luck, that my biggest fear was something I needed as much as I needed air.

In my waking hours, I was constantly crawling out of my skin. Every time he was there when I woke up, his face irritated me. I didn't want to have to worry about entertaining him, or avoiding conversation that made me uncomfortable, or awkward silences. I felt like I had to hide my attempts to stay awake. I fought my exhaustion as quietly as I could, but I could see it in Jack's eyes: he knew how terrified I was. And my long-developed instincts kept telling me he was just waiting for me to be vulnerable, so he could jump into my pants.

Worst of all, my nightmares seemed to follow me into the real world, making me start at the smallest movement Jack would make. Wherever looked, whatever I heard, everything would morph into Jason's leering eyes, the British voice, feverish screaming, frantic white blurs, the crunching of metal —

I just want to be alone. Please, just leave me alone.

On the off hours where I wasn't sleeping, that's what I'd say, while he was there. Let me be. I'd say it, my pleading voice cracking. And after a second of just staring at me, he'd force himself to smile that hellish smile, and pull up closer, telling me to "shut up and eat", pushing a spoon into my mouth.

He'd click the door closed behind him after making me eat lukewarm soup, finally leaving me alone with my thoughts.

And then I'd want him back.

Her nightmares kept getting worse.

At first, it was just little moans, slight movement of the eyebrows, as she slept. But now, after a few nights of restless sleep, it had escalated into full-out flailing, endless panicky screeches tearing from her.

Sandy looked into it, more than once. For what seemed like the hundredth time, the little golden man could only shrug, shaking his head as he touched his hands to her relaxed forehead. For once, she seemed to be sleeping dreamlessly. Jack could only assume that was the effect Sandy had, on the kids. When he didn't use the dreamsand, his presence alone pulled them deeper into sleep. For once, all the Guardians were gathered in her room: North hung by the door, with Tooth watching from above. Bunny flipped a boomerang around absently.

Jack had stopped pacing to uncross his arms, watching Sanderson with squinted eyes. "What, there's no nightmare sand?"

Sandy's hair wobbled as he shook his head.

"So… so what does that mean?"

His eyes were drained of his normally golden light, and it finally clicked in Jack's head. He didn't need Bunny's explanation.

"Looks like she's giving herself nightmares." He exchanged a glance with Jack, green eyes fiercely luminescent in the dark.

"Her fear is taking over," North murmured, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

A rattling sigh escaped Jack's throat. "Oh my God." How could someone live with so much fear, they give themselves nightmares? What kind of horrible things are in that head?

"Please. Just leave me alone."

She kept saying it, her eyes empty. But her voice was so thin, he knew she didn't really want to be alone.

He knew what it felt like, to be isolated with your thoughts. He knew how it felt to long for someone to share a burden with.

Maybe that was it. Maybe she was afraid of scaring the Guardians away, or hurting them somehow, by letting them in. That maybe it would be best for everyone if she just dealt with it all.

Yeah, right. You've been doing this on your own for too long, snowflake. Whether you want it or not, you're not alone anymore.

As the rest of the Guardians filed out, Jack pulled up a chair next to Willow's bed, watching her head twitch as she dropped into another night-terror.

It was the worst one I'd had yet.

It was filled with such maniacal laughter, ringing in my ears, like some sort of sick soundtrack for everything that had ever hurt me. It even mangled the faces of those who hadn't: Emmett's bright features were darkened, twisted so he laughed as pain laced through my veins; North's beard splattered with blood as his hand came up and down over my helpless body; Jack's sharp grin, this time burning with malice, engulfed me, freezing me in place, so that Sandy's golden sand could fill me up, just as Pitch's had. As I screamed, writhing under the looming faces and the symphony of laughter, I watched the golden sheen of Sandy's body blacken, like ink spreading across the surface, glossing over his arms, his feet, his head, and I could feel the same happening to me, and darkness was crawling over my body, and explosions of cold pain wracked every inch of me, and Mom and Dad watched, blood dripping from their applauding hands, like it was the best performance they'd ever seen, and oh God, just make it end —

The worst shriek I'd ever let myself scream ripped high and clear through the air. I jackknifed, my muscles pulling of their own accord, and hair flew into my face, sticking to it with tears. I could feel my hands cling helplessly to the sheets, and I brought them up to my mouth, stifling the tearful moans that still leaked out of me. Everything in me crumbled, and as I came undone, I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt myself vibrate, shaking with sobs, but I bit down hard on my fingers, as if that would somehow hold me together.

It took me a moment of panting whimpers to realize that cold arms had encircled me. I jerked back at first, but when he just pulled me in tighter, kneeling on the mattress in front of me, instead of pulling away, I loosened my grip on the sheets. Quickly, before I could think about it too much, I wrapped my own hands ad round his waist, sinking into his cool embrace. And as soon as I did, a torrent in me opened, and I sobbed harder into his shoulder, choking on the overwhelming darkness in my head. I vaguely registered the displacement of fabric as he rubbed circles at the base of my back. He burrowed another hand in my hair, chilling my sweating skin.

He was saying things, too, I realized. I had to concentrate to make his voice distinct against the whispers of laughter echoing in my head. When he pressed his lips to my hair, his words ruffled it. "Oh, God, Will, I'm so sorry," he whispered. His voice resounded gently in his chest, his warm words a soft undertone, but his soft murmurings couldn't stop the gasps or the tears. "You're OK, I promise, it was just a dream! It's all gonna be fine! You're gonna be alright..."

I couldn't reply. Jerky chokes kept tearing through me, making it kind of difficult to speak. My abs were throbbing, since they were violently fighting for air, and my tears froze instantly on his shoulder. They joined the flecks of ice on his chest; nothing could discern them from the normal hoarfrost that clung to him.

Sobs that ripped my midriff in half gradually slowed to soft shudders, but Jack didn't pull back. He just sat there, holding me in my brokenness, trying to keep me together.

My heart slowed, and, sniffling, I counted in my head, "one, two, three, four," so my breaths came in unwavering four-second intervals. If Jack noticed my attempt to get a grip, he didn't say anything. He just kept rubbing my back, his cold seeping through the fabric of my hoodie. It felt as if he was touching my bare skin, like the little brushes of wintry snowflakes.

It took me a moment to comprehend what he was saying, after I spent a few minutes breathing steadily: "Will, none of this was your fault."

I sniffed, kind of disgustingly, and cleared my throat of the leftover tears. I felt pathetic. Like a stupid little girl who didn't have a backbone enough to handle a bad dream.

"Jack —"

"No. Will, no."

I shook again, trembling in the effort of locking my tears back into my chest. I tried again. "If it weren't for me —"

"Emmett would have been left alone with his bastard of a father," he cut me off forcefully. I nudged my nose into his chest, inhaling that stale smell of icy nothing. "And you would have been pushed off into the hands of some other family that didn't give a crap about you. You'd still be alone, and you'd still be misunderstood, and you'd still have no one to worry about you."

I didn't answer. But surrounded by the grief in his tone, I decided, once and for all, that naïve was the last thing Jack Frost was. In that singular moment, I knew he understood how I felt.

"Let us worry about you. Please."

I knew, right then, that I had a choice. I could peel myself away, turning to look out my window again. I could refuse his help, and try to save my dignity, which was kind of shot, after glomming onto an almost-stranger. I could get a hold of myself on my own, like I always had. I could keep myself distant, like I'd always done. After all, once I got out of here, where would the Guardians be? Here, it would be fine and dandy to have imaginary beings as my only friends. But in the real world, I couldn't rely on fairytales to keep me sane.

But, the thing is, I suddenly felt like the boy in my arms wasn't a fairytale. He was there, wasn't he? Solidly holding my shattered insides, waiting for me to glue the little pieces back into a whole and happy Willow. And by the set of his jaw and the huskiness of his tone, I figured he felt my pain. He didn't want to go anywhere.

That made other thoughts flash rapidly through my head — guys never stay close, they just get what they want and leave, you know this, or maybe, even if he wanted to stay with you, it'll just ruin everything for everyone else, or maybe —

But I stopped the 'maybes'. I was done with 'maybe-ing'. I couldn't help but feel that maybe… maybe this time would be different. Maybe I was meant to see these Guardians. Maybe I was here for a reason.

And I didn't flinch when another voice, a soft one, an old and wizened one, whispered through my thoughts: Trust this. Trust them.

So I chose.

I chose to I snort, rather wetly, into his chest.

"What?"

"This." My hands loosened their grip. "We're so corny."

With a hesitant chuckle, he pulled back. He looked me over gently, as if checking for leaks in my mask. But the light in his eyes made me giggle, and for the first time in forever, I felt like my smile wasn't a mask.

"So, um," I said, running the back of my hand along my nose. A really gross trail of liquified snot deposited on my skin, so I rubbed it against my hoodie, ignoring Jack's appalled glare. "Where's the little girl's room?"