(LONG) AUTHOR'S NOTE: I just wanted to stick a quick note of thanks here to a specific guest reviewer that I can't contact. Oh my goodness, thank you SO MUCH for pointing out that thing with the "giggling" to me! I actually thought I had already taken that out—apparently, I didn't publish the right version of the last chapter! (OOPS!) And no, I'm not offended at ALL. I totally get the importance of switching up word choice—that's what keeps the flow of the writing correct; use a word too much and you draw attention to it. In this case especially, the excessive use of the word "giggling" on the last chapter even managed to change the intended meaning.

What I Was Trying To Convey: "Elsa's having a ton of fun right now!"

What Actually Was Conveyed: "DANGIT, JACK! DID YOU OVERDOSE THE QUEEN AGAIN?!"

Anyhoo. Thank you SO MUCH for pointing that out to me so that I could try to fix it! See, everybody—THIS IS PART OF WHY REVIEWS ARE SO IMPORTANT. While I love love LOVE the reviews that are simply compliments ("QUICK! EVERYBODY TELL ME HOW WONDERFUL I AM!") and get a lot of motivation to keep writing from them, I will often make major mistakes—and this kind of constructive feedback helps me to catch them. So, please review—especially if you think there's some sort of problem; you're probably right. Thanks for bearing with me through this long note, and I hope you have a fantabulous day!)

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26: CENTERED

As the Spirit of Winter whirled around, sticking his hands into his front pocket as he walked back towards the ice fort, Elsa stumbled back a step, her head spinning. She'd just had a snowball fight. In the library. And against Jack Frost.

Jack. FROST.

Oh, wow.

The Fifth Spirit clapped her hand to her forehead, the realization hitting her all at once as she watched the white-haired Spirit of Winter bounding up the icy stairs, their slick, slightly-melted surfaces refreezing under his feet as he ran. That was—amazing. For the fifty thousand times that she'd fantasized about such a snowball fight, through her late childhood and early teenage years (and admittedly, in the previous fall), the real thing was somehow even better than her treasured snowy daydreams. It was like that rush she'd felt on the Nokk, the first time she'd seen Ahtohallan and realized it was a glacier, with what she'd thought was a confirmation of who was inside—but even more so. With Jack Frost himself, it seemed, EVERYTHING became more fun. Even getting caught.

Especially getting caught…

Shaking her head vigorously, Elsa jolted back into focus. Pulling in her breath, she looked up, suddenly realizing with horror that library was completely buried. Her stomach twisting preemptively, she drew herself up, fidgeting with her fingers as she followed after him to inspect the damage.

Stepping out from behind the end of the last bookcase, Elsa came forward into the sunlight, her gaze falling onto the piles of snow, the blasts of ice covering the tables and floor, and the icicles hanging from the bookshelves. It was a mess.

All of a sudden, Jack dropped out of the air in front of her, and she startled backwards with a squeak of shock.

"Fight's over, Snowflake," he laughed, letting his staff fall back onto his shoulder. "Don't be so nervous."

"I am not nervous," she retorted. "You just caught me off-guard."

He grinned, raising an eyebrow as Elsa put her hands on her hips. "I'm good at that."

"And the Snow Queen can match you."

"Unless…"

Jack's voice trailed off.

Elsa felt a gust of cold air, a faint sparkling in her peripheral vision. Realizing what he was doing, she gasped and leapt away from him, spinning around and materializing a snowball into her hand.

Each threateningly pulling back a snowball, Jack and Elsa stared at each other, frozen in their places.

After a few moments, Elsa saw a hint of a smile begin to tug at the side of Jack's mouth. Struggling not to break eye contact herself, glaring at him as menacingly as she could, Elsa bit her lip, starting to smile as well.

With a loud snort, Jack Frost suddenly burst out laughing, dropping his head forward and looking to Elsa with a sheepish grin. Relaxing her grip, she started laughing as well, her heart leaping as Jack shrugged, tossing his snowball to the side and walking towards her.

"Truce?" he offered.

Elsa raised her eyebrows, looking down to his outstretched hand. Letting out her breath, she shrugged, dropping her snowball as well and stepping forward.

"Truce," she agreed.

The Fifth Spirit and the Fifth Guardian clasped hands, and Jack grinned, giving her fingers a squeeze before letting go. Pulling in her breath, Elsa drew herself up, looking back to the shelves.

"Well—one thing's for certain," she said, glancing back to the table. "We certainly did quite a number on this library."

Jack raised his eyebrows, turning around and looking to their handiwork as well. It was an understatement, to say the least. All around them in the center of the library, the table, books, chairs, and carpet were buried underneath a thick layer of snow, blasts of ice protruding from every exposed surface and glinting in the sunlight that poured down upon them from the skylight above. Looking down, Elsa realized that all of the few exposed patches of carpet that had somehow remained visible were frozen solid, and that, from all outward appearances, that the towering bookshelves around them were not as much being held up by their own construction as much as they were being held up by the solid ice now encasing them.

"You do of course realize that we've got to clean this up," she sighed.

"What are you talking about?" Jack chuckled. "I think we kind of improved it."

Elsa scoffed, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. Seeing the icicles again, the colors of the sunlight catching their spiked edges and setting them sparkling, she bit her lip.

Elsa suddenly felt a pang of horror hit her as she looked to the enormous snowdrift hill piled up against the bookcases.

"My shoes are somewhere in there, you know."

A look of confusion swept across Jack's face.

"Um…" he asked slowly, "Your… shoes?"

"I just noticed that I wasn't wearing them," Elsa stammered, "I—I took them off to climb up the ladder. And I don't know where they are in that snowbank, so I can't melt it without destroying them."

"Can't you just make new ones?"

"These were from my coronation. They're special to me," she admitted. "And, besides. I like my heels. They make me taller."

Jack raised his eyebrows, a hint of a teasing smile twitching out of the side of his mouth.

"Seriously?" he chuckled.

She stared at him in puzzlement. "What?" she demanded, "What's so funny?"

"We just created a small-scale blizzard in the Royal Library, and you're worried about your shoes?"

Elsa felt her throat tighten with embarrassment, and she looked down, fidgeting with her skirt.

"I—um," she choked, "I really like those shoes."

There was a moment of silence.

Slapping his palm over his eyes, Jack burst out laughing, shaking his head. "Mother of North," he groaned, grinning up at her as he pulled his hand down his face, "I am never going to understand women."

"Do not insult the shoes."

"They're shoes."

"They are amazing shoes. And, I hardly ever get to wear heels anymore anyway, so I'm trying to enjoy them as much as possible."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"My heels just aren't practical in the Enchanted Forest. When I'm out there, I'm usually wearing sandals," Elsa admitted, "And when I'm riding the Nokk, I usually just forget shoes altogether. So I can feel everything better."

To this, Jack Frost's eyes widened in wonder.

"I have been saying that for years," he breathed.

Elsa bit her lip, suddenly aware of the weight of his scrutiny, the way that he was staring at her in complete fascination and awe, as if analyzing every molecule of her body and face. Had she said something wrong?

Maybe she was just wrong.

After a few moments, Jack grinned and rolled his eyes, taking a few steps back. "Alright, alright," he chuckled, seeing her look of discomfort, "You still want the heels back."

"I would appreciate that."

"I'm pretty good with wind. We'll just blow the snow all off, and the shoes should sink to the bottom."

The Snow Queen blushed. "If I just called Gale, I'm sure that—"

"—Don't bother, Snowflake," Jack laughed, pulling his staff down from his shoulder, "I'll find 'em. You said they were by the ladder?"

"Somewhere around there. But it would be more towards the middle."

He tossed his staff into his other hand, sweeping it across the base of the snowdrift. Elsa felt a hard, cold wind begin to swirl through the room, and the snowdrift began to blow into the air, billowing frost lifting as a cloud. After a few moments, Jack leapt forward, diving under the lifted snowbank.

FOOM!

It fell back down on top of him, the last of the frost gently floating down around it onto the ground.

After a few seconds, Jack burst back out of the snow again, shooting towards the ceiling, ice particles flying off of him. He then came back down onto the floor, sweeping into a dramatic bow and holding out a pair of icy high heels.

"Your glass slippers, Cinderella," he proclaimed, looking up through his eyelashes with a grin. "Shall we see if they fit?"

"They'd certainly better," she laughed. "Thank you, Jack."

"Ma'am."

She reached out her hand to take them, but he raised his eyebrows and fell onto one knee, gesturing for her foot. Elsa blushed as she extended her right leg through the slit of her dress. He gently grasped her ankle, slipping on the high heel.

After a few moments, Elsa began to struggle trying to keep her balance.

"Um," she laughed nervously, "Are you—um, are you intending to do the other foot at any time, or—?"

Her voice trailed off, and Jack looked up, not releasing her leg. A flirtatious smile spread across his face, and he sighed dramatically, tracing his finger around her ankle. "But I like this one so much..."

"OOOH-kay," Elsa blurted, yanking her leg out of his grip, "I think we're done here…"

Jack let out a sharp bark of laughter as she took a step back, leaning down and snatching up her other shoe from his hand. He shook his head again, chuckling under his breath as she stumbled to the side and crammed it onto her foot.

"You have the greatest expressions," he chuckled.

Her face flushed. Pretending not to notice his mischievous grin as he readjusted his grip on the staff, Elsa then shook her head vigorously and stepped forward, putting her hands on her hips.

"Well, one thing's for certain," she declared, "We've got to clean this up before anyone can see it. I'll do this side, and you can do that side."

She turned away from him, facing the bookshelves across the room and concentrating. Then, holding her arms out, she began to visualize herself pulling the snow together, her heart swelling. Turning around, she then—

Elsa realized that Jack hadn't moved. A pained expression was on his face.

"Jack, what's wrong?"

He looked up to the shelves, the table covered with snow, the enormous snowdrift that had fallen back onto the floor. Opening his mouth to say something, he shrugged, laughed nervously with embarrassment, and then closed it again. With effort, he swallowed.

Elsa's eyes widened slightly.

"You—um," she said quietly, "You—don't know how to melt your snow?"

Jack shifted uncomfortably on his feet, readjusting his grip on the staff. He bit his lip. "Um," he admitted, "I guess—I guess it just never occurred to me that I would want to melt it."

"Never occurred to you?"

"It—well, why would I?" he scoffed, suddenly defensive, "I'm Jack Frost, Snowflake. I'm supposed to make a mess of everything."

"Oh, come on," she retorted, "That's hardly an excuse! And it's not even true."

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen you make some beautiful things in the last couple days," Elsa countered, bringing a slight blush from the Spirit of Winter. "I think learning to melt your snow would be worth your time. I can teach you how, if you like. I mean, if you let me."

He didn't respond immediately, avoiding eye contact and awkwardly shuffling his foot on the ground again. After a few moments—a shy little hint of a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth—Elsa watched as her new friend hesitantly looked back up into her eyes.

"Okay," Jack agreed.

Elsa's heart leapt.

"It's important to be able to melt the things you freeze for the same reason that it's important to have an eraser when you draw," she said eagerly as he set the staff on the ground next to his feet. "With large-scale snow, like blizzards, it doesn't matter, but if you want precision, then you need more careful control."

He raised his eyebrows. "For artsy-type stuff?"

"Exactly!"

He grinned as Elsa then walked around behind him. Stepping up, reaching forward with her body nearly pressed up against his back, she gently slid her arms underneath his own.

"It's kind of a lifting—and a warmth," she explained, gently pushing his wrists up. "Like this."

Jack followed her soft prodding, imitating the gesture. "Like, how you pull ice out of the ground?"

"No, not that strong. That just makes more ice. It's like…" her voice trailed off, and she laughed softly, readjusting her grip. "It's like picking up a small animal, or a child, or something. You have to love the snow, and then you can lift it up into the air."

To this, Jack laughed as well, his muscles relaxing slightly. "Um—love the snow?" he chuckled.

"Well—right," Elsa replied, moving her hand further up his arm. "And then you can just—sort of call it to you. Just think about love, Jack."

"Keep touching me like that, and maybe I will."

Elsa's breath caught. She then shifted uncomfortably on her feet, biting her lip as he twisted his head around to look at her, a sly grin on the corner of his mouth.

"Admit it," he said softly, "You walked right into that one, Snowflake."

"Will you just try it?"

She released his arms, taking a step back, and Jack looked forward again, shaking out his hands. Then, closing his eyes, he drew in a long breath, slowly pulling his arms into the air like she had shown him.

Nothing happened.

Elsa's heart sank as Jack opened his eyes, a look of disappointment sweeping across his face. Biting his lip, he set his feet, bending down and sweeping his arms upwards again.

CRACK!

A sudden shot of ice blasted out of his palms, flying into the air and smashing into the nearest bookshelf. Blushing furiously, Jack groaned in frustration, gritting his teeth and beginning to set his feet to try again.

"You're trying too hard, Jack," the Fifth Spirit blurted, leaping in front of him before he could do so. "You're getting too stressed about it. That'll make more ice. Whatever you're worrying about—you have to let it go."

He looked up at her as she gently pushed down his arms. "Let go of the stress?"

"Basically." Elsa took a step back so that he could try again. "Just—breathe. You have to focus on your heart. And then let it consume you. "

"Focus on your…?"

Jack's voice trailed off.

His mouth fell open slightly, his eyes widening in epiphany as if a new, strange idea had hit him. Elsa's eyebrows lifted.

"Hey… wait," he said. "I just… I just thought of something."

He spun around and kicked his staff into his hand, running to the center of the open part of the library, coming up to the table and chairs underneath the enormous skylight. The Snow Queen watched as Jack placed his hand flat onto the table's edge, into the thin film of frost. Then—holding his breath—he suddenly snapped his palm upwards.

In a tiny puff of cold air, the frost followed his fingers, flying off the table and shooting into the air. In a fraction of a second, the snowflakes twisted into a spiral, bursting apart into a shimmering mist in front of him and disintegrating.

"Ah-HA!"

Jack grinned mischievously, tucking his staff underneath his arm and placing both hands on the table. His eyes narrowed with excited concentration, he then yanked them back.

FWOOM!

The thick layer of snow abruptly jerked forward, rippling off the wood like a sheet as it flew into the air. Elsa gasped as the blanket of snow spun like cloth and wrung itself into itself into a ball, then exploding into nothingness just like the first, the shimmering glitter of ice bursting around him with a loud crack as Jack threw his arms out, the staff falling onto the ground. He laughed triumphantly and did a back flip, snatching the shepherd's crook up from off the carpet and launching himself into the air.

Elsa spun around as a gust of icy air ripped through her skirt, the fabric flapping about her legs as he shoot up to the skylight, sweeping around the grand circle of windows. Whipping his staff over his head, he flipped forward, tumbling downwards through the air towards the bookshelves. As he darted around the room, flinging his arms into the air and leaping from surface to surface, the ice followed him, spiraling, sparkling, and shooting out from all the crevices in the bookcases and rushing to follow. It danced and twisted, almost as if it were rejoicing, long lines of frost sweeping up around him as he flew. He spun and leapt between the surfaces, laughing and flinging his staff as he launched himself off every surface, and the frost followed suit as he pulled it into the dance, flying off of every surface and out from every nook and cranny in the room. The blizzard filled the room as he shot between the shelves, but instead of a normal, spinning wind, it was as if each particle were independently whirling and leaping, each dancing by itself, each playing its own part.

Jack laughed triumphantly, flipping forward and lighting down upon the table in front of Elsa, flinging his staff into the air as the wind whipped through the room. The snow followed in an elated procession, hundreds of twisting, spiraling, glimmering ribbons of ice particles flying through the air, following his every move and gesture as if he was the leader of this spirited dance of ice, the impassioned conductor of a silent orchestra of frost.

Elsa's eyes were wide with amazement, completely fixated, unable to look away from the angelic, dazzlingly radiant young man spinning and laughing on the table. His white hair and navy hood whipped in the wind as he whirled around and around with his arms outstretched, a shepherd's crook in his hand, exuberantly directing his symphony of ice, completely surrounded by the leaping, flying, dancing, twisting, spiraling, sparkling…

Snow.

Her breath caught at the sudden realization. This was Jack Frost. She was standing here, her heart pounding, in the library, and watching Jack Frost—the Spirit of Winter, Master of Blizzards, and the secret obsession of her entire childhood and adolescence—dancing with his snow. This wasn't just a dance—it was magic.

The Fifth Spirit of the Enchanted Forest had never seen anything so beautiful in her entire life.

All of a sudden, with the whirling blizzard closing in around him, Jack Frost leapt forward on the table, jerking in his arms and falling onto his knees. The ice obeyed, rushing in onto itself.

eeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE POW!

The ball of ice exploded as the Guardian threw out his arms again, bursting into the air like a firework. As a hard silence fell over the room, Elsa felt the wind slow to a stop, nothing left of the snow in the library except for a faint, white shimmering disintegrating into the air.

Jack lowered his arms.

For a few moments, he stood in sudden quiet turned away from her, his back shaking as he struggled to catch his breath. Elsa took a step forward, crossing her arms over her chest.

"That," she said breathlessly, "That was—incredible."

Jack, turning around and looking into her eyes, grinned, his face slightly flushed again. "Naw," he laughed. "That was fun."

"B-But, you didn't even melt the snow," she exclaimed, "You—like—made it disintegrate! How on earth did you do that?"

He shrugged, kicking his staff over his shoulder and walking towards her across the long tabletop, shaking his head. "I just bridled my power in the same way I usually do," he said casually. "I focused on my center."

"Your center?"

"Yeah!" he exclaimed, "You know—fun. That was fun. If you always just focus on your center, your main passion, then you ca—wait a minute."

His eyes suddenly narrowed, and he jumped down from the table, silently landing on the rich carpet and walking towards her.

"Elsa, if there was one thing—one idea," he said intensely, looking into her eyes, "That you could focus on—one thing that made everything make sense, one thing that chased all the darkness away—what would it be?"

She froze for a moment, trying to process the strange question. Then, she let out a long sigh, biting her lip and glancing down.

"I—I don't know," she admitted quietly. "I can't think of anything. Maybe I don't have one."

"Oh, come on," he pressed, "Everybody has something that drives them. Think harder."

She fidgeted with the edge of her capelet, staring determinately at the ground. He took another step closer to her, his face right up next to her own.

"Elsa, how do you melt the snow?"

The Fifth Spirit closed her eyes, biting her lip nervously. After a few more moments, she then pulled in a long breath. "Well—like I said," she stammered, "Just—love. You know, like warmth. I focus on love. Love will thaw, right? I mean, if you're asking what helps me to chase the darkness away, I guess love would be it, but I don't think that's anything special. I just—wait," she said suddenly, "Wha—What's wrong?"

Jack had leaned his head back, drumming his fingers on the staff, chuckling bitterly to himself with closed eyes. He then looked to her again, shaking his head.

"Love," he exhaled. He took a step back, his eyebrows slightly raised with disbelief. "Your center is love?"

"Well, I—"

"—YOUR CENTER IS LOVE?"

Elsa felt blood rushing to her cheeks as he turned away, kneading his eyebrows and beginning to pace. A wave of panic swept over her. Had she said something wrong?

"Jack," Elsa stammered, "I—I'm sorry, I just—"

He suddenly stopped himself mid-step, wheeling around to her and shaking his head, running his hand through his hair. He started walking back to her again, staring intently into her eyes.

"My center is fun," he said, "Bunny's is hope, North's is wonder—you know, that kind of thing."

"What about it?"

"For most of us, our center is something that stems from love," he continued, finally standing in front of her and leaning onto his staff. "Love for possibilities, love for the physical world, love for laughter, that kind of thing. But your center—your center is love itself?"

His eyes were wide, his mouth hanging slightly open as he stared at her in astonishment. Elsa suddenly felt a rush of shyness sweep through her body, and she looked down to the floor, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. Then, fidgeting with her fingers, she hesitantly looked back up into his gaze.

"Is that… weird?"

To this, Jack's eyes widened. After a few moments, he let out a breathy bark of laughter, slapping his hand over his face. He then looked up, grinning sheepishly, and readjusted his grip on the staff, putting his free hand on her shoulder. Elsa felt a new rush of excitement as she felt his hand on her skin again.

"It's. Amazing," he breathed. "And, it explains a lot."

"Like what?"

"Like why you're so afraid of it," he shrugged. "You're terrified of love, Elsa. That much is obvious."

"T-Terrified?" she stammered, "Why would—why would I be terrified of love?"

"Because you value it so much."

The words hit her hard. Elsa sucked in her breath, and Jack took a step back, leaning onto his staff again.

"From what you've told me, it sounds like you grew up being taught that reaching out to people—or letting them reach out to you, frankly—was putting them in danger," he said softly, "Am I right?"

"Yes. I suppose." Elsa folded her arms across her chest. "But I still wanted to. I mean, even though I couldn't. I didn't have enough control over my powers to be allowed to love people."

"Elsa, has it never occurred to you that not being allowed to love people was the reason you didn't have control over your powers?"

Elsa swallowed hard, folding her arms tighter across her chest.

"Jack," she choked, "My parents were only trying to help. They didn't know any better. At least… at least, my father didn't."

Elsa's voice trailed off, a sharp pang of loneliness hitting her as her Northuldra mother's face suddenly appeared at the forefront of her mind. Restraining from a wince, she gulped again.

If she'd just told him her secret…

"I know." He sighed, absent-minded spinning the staff on the floor. "But you need to promise me something, Snowflake."

"Oh?"

He suddenly caught the staff, snatching it into his hand and taking a step towards Elsa again. She nervously looked down, feeling his piercing gaze on her face again.

"You've got to promise me that you'll STOP it with the I-Must-Make-Myself-Miserable-By-Suppressing-My-Center-To-Protect-Arendelle thing," he gritted. "Every time you suppress your center, you break apart. You lose control. Something horrible happens. You have to start allowing yourself to love people, Elsa."

Her heart leapt into her throat. "I do love people!"

"Name some."

"Alright," she said angrily. "I love Anna."

"Oh, good. One person," he retorted. "Anyone else?"

"Well—you know. Kristoff, I guess."

"That's two." Before Elsa opened her mouth to say something more, Jack suddenly looked back to her, interrupting. "And before you rattle off the names of every single person you've ever met, when I say love, I don't mean a generic oh-you're-such-a-nice-person-we-can-make-pleasant-conversation-over-hot-chocolate-and-crumpets love. I mean, a personal, deep, wanting-to-do-anything-you-can-to-help-this-person-and-stay-with-them-forever love."

Elsa fell quiet, closing her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something again, but no sound came out. She fidgeted with her fingers again.

"Look," Jack sighed, "I know that you were raised to believe that sacrificing your relationships and isolating yourself was the answer to everything. It's not okay."

"Sometimes, sacrifice is the answer, Jack."

"Sacrificing yourself for someone you love, versus sacrificing your right to love them—not the same thing, Snowflake."

Elsa bit her lip. She looked down at the ground again, and let her arms down to her sides.

"We should really get back to work," she choked.

She shook her head vigorously, closing her eyes and turning away from him to walk back to the table. She pulled out her chair to sit down again, but Jack was there in an instant, slamming her book shut before Elsa could reach for it. He then spun around and sat on it, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring into her eyes.

"Promise me you'll stop trying to use 'protecting' everyone and everything as an excuse to suppress your center," he said darkly.

"I can't make that promise."

The Snow Queen stood up and bent across the table, reaching for the other volume. As she did so, Jack calmly tipped his staff back over his shoulder.

CRACK!

A blast of ice shot out in front of her, hitting into the side of the book and sealing its pages shut before she could touch it. Elsa groaned, but before she could withdraw her hand, Jack lunged forward caught her wrist, holding it fast. She gasped and looked up to find herself suddenly staring directly into his startlingly blue eyes, scarcely an inch away from his face.

"Elsa…?"

He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

After a few moments of glaring each other down, she sighed. Finally, she then closed her eyes again, shaking her head.

"Fine," she choked. "I promise."

"You promise what?"

"I promise to stop suppressing my center."

"Which is?"

"Jack, I—"

"—Which is?"

Elsa sucked in her breath, feeling blood rushing to her face again.

"Um—love," she stammered.

"There we go."

Jack released her wrist, and the Fifth Spirit shook out her hand, sitting back into the chair as he got up off of her book. She sighed, grasping the enormous front cover and beginning to search for where she'd left off.

"Aaaaaand back to the inheritance war," she laughed bitterly.

Jack walked around the table, picking up his fallen chair and reaching for the volume. The pages were still frozen together, and he brushed his hand over them, pulling up the frost. It rippled into the air and then burst apart with a tiny, almost indistinguishable, pop.

Queen Elsa raised her eyebrows, looking up from her book and silently golf clapping her approval. He laughed, looking pleased with himself, and then collapsed into the chair, grasping the enormous volume's cover and beginning to flip through its pages.

"And back to the Cow People for me," he groaned. "Let's see how much longer this argument is going to last…"

"You know that you can just skim the stuff that isn't applicable, right?"

Jack Frost's eyes widened.

"Um… what?" he choked. "You mean—you mean I didn't have to read all of the—?"

Elsa bit her lip, seeing his expression. "Um," she continued, watching in confusion as Jack got onto his feet to stand on top of his chair, "If we're looking for child abuse law references, and you can tell that there aren't going to be any, it's alright for you to—"

THUNK.

Sweeping his hand to his forehead, Jack dramatically threw himself out of the chair, collapsing onto the floor. Elsa suddenly found herself looking at, instead of his face, his bare feet, which were now sticking straight up in the air in the same place where he had been sitting.

"Gaaaaaaaaaack," he croaked, "I—I'm moving towards the liiiiiiiiiight…"

She restrained from a laugh, trying to keep her face straight as he continued.

"Tell my children I love themmmm…"

"Wait," Elsa jolted, "I thought you said you didn't have children?"

He sat up suddenly, looking back to her. "Ummm—I don't."

"Then who should I tell you love them?"

He fell over again.

"Fiiiiiiiiind some random childrennnnnn…"

Elsa chuckled under her breath, shaking her head and calmly turning her page. "Jack, if you had really just keeled over and died with your feet in the air, I think I would expect to see some twitching, or something."

From behind the table, Elsa saw him wiggle his toes.

"Twitch," he choked helpfully.

"And you wouldn't actually say 'twitch.'"

"Well, maybe I would," he retorted, "I mean, come on. Who has more death experience, you or me?"

"Wait, what?"

Jack's legs fell down suddenly. Elsa stood up, shoving the chair back and running around to the other side of the table. By the time she got there, Jack was scrambling onto his feet, his face turning red.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing."

He reached for his chair, and Elsa leapt in front of him, shoving it into the table. He looked up into her face, his sudden nervousness poorly hidden as he pretended to scoff, rolling his eyes.

The Fifth Spirit folded her arms tighter.

"You said death experience," she enunciated.

"It—it was a joke," he said quickly, glancing to the left, "Don't worry about it."

"You're not acting like it's a joke."

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, biting his lip. Then, Elsa watched as he sighed, shaking his head and leaning onto the staff.

"Jack," Elsa tried again, dropping her voice to a whisper, "I know you're hiding something from me."

He squeezed his eyes shut. After a few moments, he ran his hand through his hair nervously, pulling in a long, pained breath and hesitantly looking up into her eyes again.

"I—um," Jack stammered, shaking his head, "I—I sort of—died. A lot of years ago. I'm kind of—undead right now. Actually."

Elsa's breath caught.