AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yep, part 2 of 3, for those of you who missed the last Author's Note. Thank you so much for your patience and support, everybody! :D

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85: SOMEBODY'S GOTTA TELL HER (2)

"Cocoa, Jamie?"

Jamie's mother hardly even glanced back towards them at they carted in the small pile of firewood, busy with something at the stove. Jack silently followed his young friend in as the door swung shut behind them.

Wham!

The whooshing of the outdoor blizzard winds muted, and Jamie set down his firewood with a dull clatter. "Yes, please," he called out, beginning to pull off his scarf. "Fruitcake, too?"

"That's fine."

Jack let his staff fall back onto his shoulder, his eyebrows lifting with interest as he walked into the home. It wasn't like he hadn't seen this place before, but he always liked seeing people's homes. You could tell a lot about a family, from what their home looked like on a random day. Most people were facing many more challenges than they cared to admit, for a number of reasons, but their living spaces tended to tell the truth. And Jamie's home was a really nice one.

Not that he was biased or anything.

There was a gasp from behind him. Freezing in his place—and instinctually knowing exactly who it was—Jack Frost slowly turned himself around to face her, then dramatically startling back in shock when their gazes met.

Sophie's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes lighting up as Jack pretended to calm himself, clapping his hand to his chest like she had given him a serious fright. Shooting her a grin as he raised his finger to his lips, mouthing a silent shh, Sophie giggled, scrambling to her feet and running up to throw her arms around his legs in an embrace.

"Hey, Soph!" Jack whispered, hugging her back and then gasping. "You're getting so tall!"

"Tall!"

She giggled again, releasing his legs and bouncing back from him, and the Guardian swept his hand through the air, swirling a line of sparkling frost around her head. She squealed with delight, jumping for the snowflakes as they danced away down the hall, and Jack's heart leapt.

Clank. Clank.

He looked up. Over at the kitchen table, Jamie was setting out two plates and two mugs. Going back to a drawer for what was presumably going to be silverware, he passed his mother, who was beginning to turn around.

Her gaze falling onto the table, a look of confusion swept over her features.

"Um…" she started. "What… are you doing?"

"Setting the table," Jamie replied matter-of-factly, bringing back the two forks.

Jack grinned, being careful to not move any of the objects in his surroundings as he walked towards the bench seat, silently leaning his staff up against the table.

Didn't need to make that mistake ever again.

"Yes, but—Sophie already had her snack," Jamie's mother said, "Are you expecting a friend?"

"That's for Jack Frost."

The woman opened her mouth, and then closed it. Clearly restraining from a comment, she picked up the teapot from off of the stove.

"Do you think that—uh—Jack Frost—want some hot cocoa?" she asked Jamie, her eyebrows lifting.

Jamie looked at Jack.

Jack looked at Jamie.

"Yes," Jack said.

"Yes," Jamie repeated, looking back to his mother.

She started to walk towards them, pausing with a violent shiver as she came up to Jack. Still holding the teapot, she shook herself and poured some in each mug, the rich brown liquid frothy and steaming. Jack restrained from reaching for his until she turned away.

"Thank you," he said.

"He says thank you," Jamie repeated.

"Mm-hmm…"

She walked back to the stove. As she passed by him again, Jamie's mother shivered violently for the second time.

"Jamie, did you leave the door open?" she asked suddenly, turning around.

"No."

She shivered, and then shot Jamie a suspicious look. "It's just suddenly very cold in here," the woman shuddered, "Perhaps that draft—well, no matter."

Clunk.

She placed the teapot on the stove. Picking up a small cup, she then walked out of the kitchen, going for a shawl.

"I need to run next door to borrow some flour from Samantha anyway," she said, "Please make sure that pot doesn't boil over."

"Okay, mom."

"Thank you." Clasping the shawl tightly around her shoulders, she opened the door, a gust of wind blowing in. "I'll be back in just a couple of minutes!"

SLAM!

The door shut behind her.

"Thanks, Jamie," Jack said. "Really. This is really good."

"You're welcome."

The Spirit of Winter ate and drank in silence as the boy eagerly gushed about absolutely everything that had happened in Burgess since they had last met. His school, his hobbies, his research on the Guardians—the kid was adorable, and Jack was happy to listen. As Jamie gleefully prattled on and on, the Spirit of Winter found himself all but actually inhaling his piece of fruitcake, increasingly aware of how hungry and thirsty his Antarctica trip had actually made him. He hadn't gone one hundred percent full-force with his powers like that for—well, at least a decade. And even though he'd had plenty of sleep, he hadn't exactly eaten anywhere near enough, to make up for it.

Food was good.

"So, ow av you behn doing?" Jamie asked, his mouth full.

Jack jumped, spinning back to him. "Huh?"

The boy chewed for another moment, and then swallowed, putting his fork down. "How have you been doing?"

"Oh. Uh…" Jack cut off another bite. "Honestly? I've been better."

He put the fork in his mouth, avoiding eye contact for a minute and procrastinating the acknowledgement of his confession.

"Is it—um," Jamie leaned in, suddenly looking very worried and dropping his voice to a whisper. "Is it Pitch?"

Jack jolted. "What? No. Not him," he said fervently, shaking his head, "Haven't heard from him in a long while."

Good riddance.

To this, Jamie's face relaxed. "That's good."

"Kiddo, I don't want you to worry about the likes of him," Jack added, poking towards Jamie in the air with his fork. "The Guardians have got that evil little shadow-sneaker WELL under control. I promise."

Jack nodded at his own statement as he picked up his mug. Gesturing with it like he was giving a toast, he then raised his eyebrows, relieved to see the fear fleeing from Jamie's eyes.

"So, it's not Pitch?" the boy clarified.

"Nah. This is about… somethin' else," Jack shrugged. He pulled back his cocoa, looking down into it and watching the shades of brown swirling on its surface. "Grownup stuff. Don't worry about it."

He sighed, shaking his head. Jamie contemplated this for a few moments, then finally turning to face him as the Spirit of Winter started to take a long drink from his mug.

"What's her name?"

Jack choked.

WHAM. He slammed his drink down onto the table, a little cocoa sloshing out onto its wooden surface. Coughing and sputtering, the Guardian gasped for breath, looking to his young friend.

"How did—" Jack cut himself off. "What?"

"Well—you said it was grownup stuff," Jamie reasoned, giving him a casual shrug. "And I know that you don't really have a normal job. And you're not really worried about money or anything, and—you're single. So…?"

"How did you know I was single!?"

"Aren't you?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean it's about a her."

Jamie picked up his fork again, taking another bite of fruitcake. He gazed into Jack's eyes, his expression innocently expectant.

Jack squirmed.

"Her name is Elsa," he mumbled reluctantly.

The Guardian stared into his cocoa. After a few moments—still feeling the weight of Jamie's gaze on the side of his face—he cautiously picked up the mug, taking another drink.

"Is she nice?" Jamie asked.

"Oh. Uh, yeah. She's really nice."

His expression softening, Jack pulled the mug down. Staring into space, his voice grew a little quieter, a reverence settling over the realization.

"In fact, I… I think she's about the nicest… gentlest… warmest person ever," he admitted.

The statement sitting on the air, a strange feeling swept through Jack's mind. In the midst of his internal storm, the feelings of desperation, wondering if he was just going crazy out of loneliness, but then suddenly saying it out loud—!

It really was true, wasn't it?

"So why'd you run away?" Jamie asked.

Jack's eyes bulged. "What the—I—!" he stammered. "I didn't run away!"

"Yes, you did. Or you wouldn't be here," Jamie said. "You'd be with her."

The boy put another forkful of fruitcake into his mouth, closing it and chewing thoughtfully. Feeling intensely uncomfortable, Jack squirmed in his seat once again.

"Well, it's just—okay, see," Jack choked, rushing through the words as the confession tumbled out, "I thought everything was going great. And it was. Until it wasn't." He stopped, sucking in another breath and gathering the courage to keep going, "And now there's another guy, and—and I don't know what she wants."

He fell quiet, staring into his mug of cocoa. Letting out his breath, Jack picked it up, taking a drink.

"Have you told her that you love her?" Jamie asked.

The Guardian gulped down the remainder of his drink, then wiping his sleeve across his mouth. Still holding the handle of the mug, He swallowed hard. "Well, not—uh," he admitted, avoiding eye contact, "Not exactly—"

"You have to tell her! Somebody's gotta tell her!" Jamie exclaimed, bouncing in his seat, "You can't just give up, Jack!"

Taken aback by the declaration, Jack looked to him. "I—"

"—Jack Frost NEVER gives up!"

Jamie Bennet was gazing at him expectingly, his enormous brown eyes wide with unfettered hero worship. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Jack huffed a laugh of discomfort, his face cracking into a smile.

This.

KID.

Seeing the pure belief in Jamie's gaze, Jack's heart just about swelled out of his chest. "I don't really know where you got that idea from," he chuckled, blushing, "But I'll take it. And I—haven't told Elsa any of this."

"Why not?"

Jack looked down again, his mug almost empty. He had been so close, and then—well—Prince Wonderful. And he'd lost his nerve. And then a fight, and then Prince Wonderful again. Just the mention of the guy's name coming up had Jack emotionally fleeing like the Boogeyman sprinting away from his own nightmares. What was he so afraid of?

And since when had Jack started making his decisions out of fear?

Awash with a sudden determination, Jack Frost sat up straight. Picking up his mug, he then took the last swig, wiping his arm across his mouth again.

"You know what?" Jack decided, his brow setting. "Yeah."

He put his mug back down.

Clunk!

Jamie's eyes lit up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're right."

The Guardian of Fun put his hands onto the tabletop and pushed himself up, his chair moving back with a creak. He reached for his staff. "I'm going to tell her," he added, "And I'm going to go and do it right now."

"Yeah!" Jamie exclaimed, punching the air and spinning towards him, "You can do it, Jack! I believe in you!"

"Thanks."

Jack's heart swelled again, and his face broke into a smile. Letting his staff fall back onto his shoulder, he paused for a moment, turning back to the boy. "Oh—and, Jamie?"

"Hmm?"

The boy was practically bouncing in his seat with excitement, grinning from ear to ear. His eyebrows lifting, Jack Frost pulled in his breath.

"Don't ever change, kid," he whispered.

Without another word, Jack reached forward and ruffled Jamie's hair. If it were possible, Jamie beamed even harder, now practically glowing with the Guardian's praise. Jack found his heart swelled again as he shot his young friend one last smile, then turning away and walking to the front door, stepping out of the way as Jamie's mother came bustling back inside.

As he started to leave, Jack could hear their voices starting up again from behind him in the kitchen.

"You ate them BOTH?!" the mother exclaimed, Jack grinning at the sound of Jamie's weak protesting, "NO. That is QUITE enough sugar for you, young man…"