AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey, everybody. GUESS WHAT. The traffic counter thingy is still broken. Thank you so much for your patience and to all of those who have given me reviews. I would really appreciate it if you'd continue! Love you all, and have a fabulous day! :D

CONTENT WARNING: Sexual innuendo, as usual

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22: THE NEXT LAYER

Jack straightened up from Elsa's bed, taking a step back. Her face was relaxed, her hair spread around her on the pillow like a halo again. The young queen was already sound asleep, her chest rising up and down, breathing steadily.

That's more like it, he thought. Get some rest, Snowflake.

He reached forward, gently pushing back another hair from Elsa's face. She was so beautiful… and she believed in him. She believed in him completely, and totally, and had promised not to ever shut him out again. And Jack Frost had a hunch that Elsa was not accustomed to making promises she didn't keep.

The Fifth Guardian reached for his medal, fingering the clasp and pulling it off of his hoodie to turn it over. With his staff in his other hand, he gently sat down on the edge of the bed again, next to Elsa, admiring the snowflake's delicate structure. It was definitely Elsa's work; its characteristic six points spiked out from a series of swirling sculpted hexagons, with all the intricate and feminine details that only she could create.

He smiled to himself, tossing it in his hand and holding it to his chest as he bowed his head forward. He didn't want to put it back on, just yet. Just feeling it, the cold, delicate ice in his hand, was so wonderful…

A distinct, golden shimmering from outside Elsa's window caught his eye.

Jack abruptly stood up, shoving the medal into his pocket, and ran over to the window, staring out into the darkness of the Scandinavian night. He then glanced back to Elsa, his face breaking into a smile, before leaping into the air and shooting through the door into the art gallery. Without once touching his feet to the ground, he flew down the hall, rushing out onto the balcony at the end of it and bursting out into the cold wind.

Right on time, Sandman.

The waves and ribbons of gold twisted through the dark canvas of the sky over Arendelle, reflecting off the black surface of the fjord and the glimmering snow of the mountains behind it. Jack, letting the wind catch up his body, blew almost instantaneously up to the top of the castle, grasping the top spike of it and spinning around.

"Hey! Sandy!" he called out. "SANDY!"

But the golden cloud moving over the castle didn't stop. The Spirit of Winter shrugged, and flung the end of his staff at the dark sky.

CRACK!

Sparkling ice shot straight up from the peak of the roof, and Jack watched as the cloud paused. The Sandman's face suddenly appeared over the edge of it, trying to locate the source of the sound. Finally, his eyes met Jack's.

Jack's face broke into a grin, and he beckoned, leaping off the edge of the roof and floating down onto Elsa's balcony. Sandy lifted his arms, and a long carpet of sand unraveled from the cloud. Jack watched as he then leapt onto it, his arms in the air, silently rushing down the slide and landing beside him.

"Hey, Sandy," Jack whispered. "I—um, I need a favor."

The Sandman raised his eyebrows in curiosity. Reaching his hand up to his golden hair, a tiny bowler hat of sand spun into existence upon his head, and he tipped it. Jack nodded, and took a step back, pushing open the door on Elsa's balcony, stepping into the art gallery.

As the door shut slowly behind them, Jack saw Sandy's eyes widen, looking at the art gallery, the rows upon row of shelves, all lined with the tiny, intricate ice sculptures. Jack laughed softly as he watched the golden thought images form above Sandy's head.

Sculpture. Hands. Shepherd's crook. Question mark? Sandy pointed to Jack.

"No, I didn't make any of these," Jack replied softly. "Well… I made one, but it's in the other room."

Question mark…? Sandy then stopped, the image fading, and looked up. With Jack watching, he then floated into the air towards one of the shelves, as if he'd seen something, with a pensive expression on his face.

"Sandy, it's—Sandy, what are you doing? That's not—" Jack's voice trailed off, watching as he floated back down to the floor.

In his tiny pale hand, the Sandman was holding a tall, thin ice statue of a boyish figure in a hoodie. The boy, with unruly hair and sharp, pointed facial features, was leaning onto a shepherd's crook, his eyebrows raised as if he were about to tell the punchline of a joke.

It was a statue of him.

Jack Frost's breath caught as he carefully took the statue from the Sandman's hands. Then, he looked back up, and realized that Sandy was hovering right in front of him.

Question mark? Question mark? QUESTION MARK?!

Jack startled slightly, then shaking his head and chuckling as he walked over to one of the shelves, putting down the statue. He then beckoned, silently leaping into the air and flying towards the end of the hall. Sandy followed as Jack passed through the door into Elsa's room, stopping at the foot of her bed.

Sandy's eyes widened, seeing the sleeping young woman, and looked back to Jack.

Letter E. Letter L. Letter S. Letter A. Crown. Arendelle crocus. Snowflake. Question mark?

"Yep. Elsa the Snow Queen," Jack whispered. "You know her?"

Snowman. Snowflake. Horse. Girl riding horse. Girl WITH braid, girl WITHOUT braid. Capelet dress. Question mark?

Jack chuckled softly under his breath. "That's Elsa, alright."

Sandy looked back to her, her hair spread out on the pillow, again. Then, he leapt up into the air with sudden excitement, silently clapping his hands and pointing between Jack and Elsa.

Snowflake. Snowman. Heart. Hands. Lips. Cupid. Jack. Elsa. Jack kissing Elsa. Jack—

"Whoa, Sandy!" Jack whispered suddenly, "It's not—I mean—okay, Elsa and I have known each other for two days, alright? Relax!"

Sandy shrugged, floating down and letting his feet rest on the floor again.

The Guardian of Fun pulled in a deep breath. "Look," he muttered carefully, "I—I'm pretty sure that Elsa just had the worst day of her life, okay? I just wanted to make sure that she has nice enough dreams tonight to allow her to get some rest."

Sandy put his finger to his sharp chin, looking thoughtful. Then, he suddenly raised his eyebrows, grinning enthusiastically, as Jack watched the images forming over his head.

Jack and Elsa holding hands. Jack and Elsa kissing. Jack holding Elsa's waist. Jack running his hands down Elsa's—

"—SANDY!" Jack hissed, his eyes bulging, "What th—WHY?"

The image abruptly burst apart, and Sandy held his stomach, buckling over in silent laughter. Jack groaned, clasping his hands together and touching his fingertips to the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed shut.

"I spend over 300 years in isolation, and nobody questions it once," he murmured with frustration, "But the instant I show an ounce of interest in a female Winter Spirit, everyone immediately assumes that I'm some sort of—! Isn't there something you can think of that's a little…um…?"

Jack's voice trailed off, his face pained again. Sandy smirked, forming another sand image above his head. Looking up, Jack startled back in shock, clapping his hand over his eyes and blushing furiously.

"LESS sexual, Sandy!" Jack choked, "Less—yeah, less like that!"

The Guardian of Dreams was holding his round little stomach again, floating about a foot off the ground and laughing hysterically. Jack Frost shook his head, his ears pink with embarrassment, and let out a bitter, nervous laugh from under his breath.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he groaned, kneading his eyebrows.

Sandy finally looked back up into Jack's pleading eyes and shrugged, shaking his head and smiling good-naturedly. He rolled his hands again, and Jack hesitantly looked up above the Sandman's head as one final image formed.

Two young girls, one with a single braid and one with pigtails, were building a snowman together in the golden sand. Jack let out a sigh of relief.

"Now, that's what I'm talking about," he exhaled. "Thanks, Sandy. I owe you one."

The Sandman laughed again, and gently pushed the dream of the girls and the snowman towards the sleeping young queen. As it floated across the room, finally coming to a stop above her head, he then turned back to Jack, the bowler hat reappearing. The Sandman tipped it, and as it spiraled back out of existence, he turned and floated from the room to resume his work over Arendelle.

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Upon occasion, Jack Frost walked into the art gallery or around the room. But for the most part, he kept his vigil next to Elsa.

A few hours had past, but Jack was almost entirely oblivious to it, silently sitting on the edge of Elsa's bed. The sand children had kept playing—Sandy had given her a long, shifting, and lovely dream—but every once in a while, Jack would see the concerned wrinkle beginning to form in the young queen's brow again. Whenever this happened, he would pull an intentionally delicate snowflake from the air and guide it over to land softly on her cheek. She would relax again, and then he would, as well. Every once in a while, a tiny smile would begin to form on her lips.

Jack did love that smile.

"So, that's what you were like as a kid…" he mused quietly, staring at the sand children in the dream. "I knew you had some fun bottled up somewhere inside of you. It's just been buried a bit deep… hasn't it?"

He gently reached up to her face, pushing back another blonde hair onto the pillow. He then shook his head, smiling, as he watched her expression.

"It's okay," he continued softly. "You and I—we're going to dig it up again. That's what I'm good at, remember?"

Elsa didn't respond, sleeping soundly, that same hint of a smile on her lips as the sand children played over her head. Jack shook his head, laughing gently under his breath.

"I really could tell you anything, right now… couldn't I?"

She was still breathing regularly, blissfully oblivious to the outside world. Jack pulled in a deep breath, leaning onto his staff from the edge of her bed.

"I'm not going to say I'm in love with you," he started softly, "Because—well, it's only been two days. I'm not crazy. But you should probably know that I've already decided that you're about the most amazing person I've ever met. And that's saying something."

He chuckled under his breath.

"Mother of North, this is easier to tell you when you're asleep," he admitted quietly. "I wish it could be this easy when you're awake. I guess I—well, I'm glad you asked me to stay, because I don't want to leave. I never really did."

Jack absent-mindedly spun his staff on the ground again, repositioning himself of the edge of the bed. He closed his eyes.

"And the funniest—worst—part about all of it?" he choked, leaning his forehead against the shepherd's crook, "You don't even realize how incredible you are. Everything you say, everything you do. It's always about Arendelle, or your sister, or—it's never about you. It's always about other people. I mean, it's just—"

Suddenly, there was a loud whooshing sound, and wind started to blow around them in the room. Jack stopped abruptly, leaping to his feet and kicking his staff into his hands. As he saw a spiraling hole of colors begin to form on the side of the room next to the Snow Queen's dresser, his face drained of color. He lowered the staff slightly, realizing what was going on, and kneaded his eyebrows.

Seriously?

The portal spiraled larger and larger, and Jack hastily blew a snowflake towards Elsa, silently begging her to stay asleep as the colors and wind grew stronger. Then, just as the sand children were about to fade completely from the air, breaking the dream, Jack leapt into the air as North stumbled out of the portal into the room.

"JACK FRO—MMPH!"

"Keep it down, will you?" Jack hissed, clapping his hand over North's mouth.

He let go, turning around in the air and glancing worriedly back to Elsa. She hadn't woken up. Letting out a sigh of relief, Jack sank back down onto the floor, his toes sinking into the rich carpet again as North raised his eyebrows.

Keeping an eye on Elsa, the Youngest Guardian backed up, gesturing for North to follow him. He did so, as the portal shrank and faded into nothingness again, and Jack silently opened the door to the art gallery. They stepped inside, and North closed the door behind them.

Click.

Jack whipped around, beginning to pace up and down the hallway of the gallery.

"So, what do you think I've done this time?" he gritted, "If this is about that stupid thing with the necklace, it was an accident, I swear—!"

"Jack—"

"—Or the fact that I was by her bed? I will have you know that Elsa asked me to stay there. So I'm staying."

"Jack—"

"—Or that thing with Sandy! That was his idea, not mine, alright? Is it my fault that he's trying to torture me?"

"JACK, YOU ARE STILL ON NICE LIST," North finally said loudly.

Jack paused, turning around. "Wait—what?"

North chuckled under his breath, his belly shaking. "I am not here to condemn you, Jack Frost," he said, then dropping his voice to a whisper. "I am here to tell you how much more respect I've gained for you since sending you here."

Jack's eyes widened, taking a step back in shock. North shook his head and walked up to him, putting his enormous hand on Jack's shoulder.

"I saw what happened today," North started quietly. "She chose to stop believing in you. And, that you went back to protect her anyway."

There was a moment of silence.

Jack looked down, gripping his staff, as he struggled for words. Finally, staring at the floor, he shook his head, and looked back up. "North," he stammered, "I—"

"—I know." North stepped back, crossing his enormous arms over his chest. "You don't think it's big deal."

"Because it isn't—"

"—It is."

Jack sucked in his breath again. Closing his eyes, he opened his mouth to say something, and then abruptly closed it again. North raised his eyebrows, looking into Jack's worried face.

"There is old saying," North said, "That you can tell the strength of a man by how he treats those who cannot give him anything in return."

"Elsa could—"

"—Only give you more pain, from what you thought." North leaned forward, looking intently into Jack's wide eyes. "You took saying a step further. Not only did you help someone that couldn't help you back, but you helped someone who you thought would actively hurt you."

"North," Jack choked, "Elsa was just trying to protect her kingdom. You can't hold that against her."

"I'm not holding it against her. She thought she was doing right thing. But that doesn't change how much pain you were in," North said quietly. "She has no idea how much that hurt you. You were alone for over three hundred years."

"My past hasn't really come up."

"From what I have seen, you've been making sure it hasn't," North retorted, raising a bushy eyebrow. "You haven't told her a thing."

"I'm already having enough issues trying to get her to open up, alright?" Jack walked past North, gently pushing open the door into the bedroom and glancing to Elsa. "Guilt-tripping her isn't going to help anything. Or telling her how old I am, for that matter. She doesn't have to know about my past."

The shimmering, golden sand children playing above Elsa's head were now having a snowball fight. Good old Sandy.

North crossed his arms again, leaning against the wall. "Jack… if you want Queen Elsa to open up to you," he said softly, "It might be a good idea to try opening yourself up to her."

Jack paused again, his eyes widening in slight shock. North was right.

North sighed, reaching into one of his pockets and pulling something out. "I didn't come here to give advice," he said quietly, stepping forward to Jack again. "This is about something else. Here."

North dropped a small, light object into Jack's hand. Jack turned it over, and saw it was a tiny Russian nesting doll, one size bigger than the smallest. Painted blue like the first one that North had given him, Jack realized that it was a painting of himself, holding a shield.

"I've been trying to figure out what next layer should be. The doll for your center is at the Pole," North said quietly. "I should have seen earlier with your sister and with Baby Tooth, but I didn't. Today, I saw side of you that I never recognized before."

Jack looked on the bottom of the wooden doll, turning it over and letting his eyes fall onto North's painted handwriting.

GALLANT