A/N: This is the second fic which I'm going to try and juggle - but what I'm going to do is focus on OGaV, and update Raising Selene as and when I have enough for a chapter. Currently I have the first four ready to go, so I've got time to jot things down.

This is essentially an examination into the effect that depression and lack of communication can have upon a family unit, so I apologise in advance for hitting us right in the Jelsa part of our hearts. Needless to say, trigger warnings.

Standard disclaimer applies - the rights to all the Dreamworks characters belong to that particular company, and the rights to the Disney characters belong to Disney. I do not own any of them but this plot, and any OCs that may or may not appear.

"The Note"

He has absolutely no idea which particular brand of diapers to buy, and you'd think after six months of raising a child, he'd at least have an inkling.

No such luck. Jack Overland Frost is, as always, clueless. He can't really be blamed for that, though, given the complete rewiring his brain underwent since little Selene Frost was born. As far as he is concerned, a diaper is a diaper is a diaper, whether it was designed for night wear or day wear, a pull-up or one of those pain-in-the-ass contraptions with the tape that requires a third hand in order to wrap it around an energetic, constantly wriggling six-month old child.

With a pack of Pampers in one hand and a pack of Huggies in the other, he looks questioningly at his daughter as she is laid on a baby seat attached to the shopping trolley, gazing with her big icy blue eyes right back at him.

"What do you think, kiddo? Which one should Daddy buy?" he asks, raising eyebrow at the irony of asking a baby for clarification.

Needless to say, the only response is a "buh?" combined with an incomprehensible waving of her arms discernible only to other pint-sized beings like her. With her gorgeous eyes and short-ish platinum blonde hair, it doesn't matter to him that conversations between them are one-sided. He still loves her to pieces, just as much as he loves his wife Elsa.

He smirks, and tosses both packs into the trolley. "That's what I was thinking."

His mind automatically drifts to his wife as he pushes the trolley toward the huge aisle that cuts the supermarket in two, and he remarks to himself that maybe he should have reneged on his statement of invincibility that he would be the one to do the shopping to give her a break, rather than the nine times out of ten that she undertakes the role.

She's been a little distant lately – well, if lately means the past six months – and he can easily tell that there's something on her mind, a thought that no matter how hard he tries, how persistent he is, she refuses to share with him. It's a thought that seems to combine itself with an expression of uncertainty and a tiny bit of fear whenever she looks at Selene, and when he glances her way the look disappears behind a feature of almost forced happiness.

She even looks at him like that, sometimes, and for the life of him he can't work out why. He's asked Aster and Tooth about it, as well as his sister-in-law Anna, and none of them have a clue. She hasn't exactly been forthcoming with them either – which is really odd, given how close she and her sister are.

He figures she is just incredibly tired, and she does look it. All those nights where it's her turn to feed Selene, where he randomly wakes up and sees her staring into the cot with a strange expression on her face, where he soothes her back to bed and cuddles her – but it's a one-sided cuddle, she's not as receptive as she used to be – he's not surprised that she is physically drained. Being a mother is hard, even when you have help in the form of the father.

As he rounds the corner into the fruit and vegetables aisle, and cheerfully passes a banana to Selene's grasping, curious, tiny little hands, his mind starts to piece things together. She doesn't talk as much as she used to before their daughter was born, and any conversations they share are usually one-sided and brief. They rarely make eye-contact, not for lack of trying, and her eating habits have gone down the drain. She barely eats half of her meals, and it's almost like each mouthful is an inconvenience to chew and a chore to swallow. She doesn't get anywhere near as much joy out of her hobby as an author, and any drafts that Jack has cheekily snuck a glance at have been depressing and dark.

Of course, he has asked her about all of this, and her reply is that she's stressed from her work as an architect, it's nothing he needs to worry about and she'll be fine. Then she flashes him that heart stealing smile that did exactly what it was meant to do all those years ago, and follows it up with a sweet yet restrained kiss on his lips, and all his concerns are forgotten.

And if he still worries – as he is apt to do – she pulls out the big guns.

"I love you, Jack. Please don't be concerned. There's nothing wrong."

So he leaves it, as always.

Tiny movement catches his eye as he decides between a bag of tangerines and satsumas, and he catches Selene gnawing her little gums on the stalk of the banana, her eyes wide with wonder as she stares up at the artificial strip lights suspended from the ceiling.

"You know," he says, reaching two fingers over to tickle that cute little belly, "you're adorable. I love you and your pretty mommy so much."

Selene pays him no heed as the strip lights are far too interesting for her fascinated mind, but she does give him the pleasure of a short gurgle and an involuntary kicking of her legs, her body covered in a sweet little pink sleep-suit that has a picture of the moon sewn onto the front. It was the first of many things that his mother Sarah bought for them, especially when she learned that her grand-daughter would be named after the Greek goddess of the moon.

The rest of the shopping goes fairly quickly – especially as the little one is starting to become a little overwhelmed by all the background noise and random discount sale messages over the P.A. system – and as he loads up the cashier's conveyor belt with about a hundred dollars' worth of groceries, he nurses the feeling that he can't wait to get home and see his wife again, even if he's only been out with their daughter for about three hours. He smiles widely to himself, prompting a curious glance from the pretty cashier with the red hair in a bob, and she asks him a question just as he's packing the scanned diapers back into the trolley.

"Someone's on cloud nine today."

Without looking, Jack grins toothily as he loads up the trolley with the fruit and vegetables, amused at the fact that the cashier is totally, one-hundred-percent correct. He is happy. He has a beautiful, intelligent wife for whom he would do anything, and a daughter who already is her spitting image and is every bit as gorgeous as she is. As far as he is concerned, he is the luckiest man alive.

"You could say that."

Understatement of the century.

The journey back is interesting, for lack of a better word. Strapped in her baby seat, Selene has spent most of the time absent-mindedly clapping her hands together with an expression of oh-my-god-best-thing-ever at each sound the tiny impacts make, gurgling happily as she watches the city go by.

Pulling up to a red light next to an intersection, he re-adjusts his navy blue hooded sweater for greater comfort and then sneaks a quick tickle of Selene's belly – as always, she is far too fascinated by the huge-ass Hummer that pulled up to their right, painted a ridiculously eye-bleeding yellow and blasting out tunes made by some rapper he has no idea about. He glances over at his daughter and, with a frown, notices that she seems to be pretty interested in the earth-shakingly loud bass rhythm.

"If you think you're listening to that when you're older, think again. Strictly AC/DC in my house." he warns jokingly, fully aware that the little baby hasn't the faintest idea what the devil he's on about.

And probably can't hear him, either.

The Hummer pulls right as Jack continues forward, and from then on it's pretty quiet, especially since the suburb in which they live – 1024 Burgess Hill, Arendelle City, to be exact – is one of the calmest there is. With well-tended green lawns, genial neighbours and cheerfully happy kids, it's almost a family's dream come true.

Speaking of AC/DC, he decides as he takes the first of many right and left turns that inexorably lead to their home that it's time to educate his daughter in the ways of classic rock – specifically, Highway To Hell, and adeptly switches the car radio setting to CD and starts off the music. He can safely blame Aster for his newfound love of that band, and as Selene fixes him with a puzzled what-the-hell-is-this-crap look while he taps the steering wheel and energetically mouths along to the song a la Star Lord in Guardians of the Galaxy, a wide smirk on his face as he deftly avoids forever ruining her ability to hear with his abysmally bad singing voice, he tries to make his movements as entertaining as possible whilst not looking like a typical Dancing Dad.

When he turns left into their street, his efforts are rewarded by her first ever gummy smile just for him, and he almost crashes the car into a tree in gleeful shock.

So far, this is the best day ever. Well, one of quite a few 'best days', but this one definitely counts. Starting from the moment Elsa nearly pushed him out the door with a loving yet impatient kiss, to the heart-melting smile his daughter just gave him, everything is epic.

And as five o'clock in the evening swings round when he pulls up next to his wife's car on the drive, exits and unclips a gurgling Selene from the harness that keeps her safe and sound, humming AC/DC to himself as he hoists her into his left arm, all that's left is to cook Elsa's favourite meal of chicken stir fry, settle their daughter to sleep and then cuddle up to his wife for a few hours to scoff at inept answers on Family Feud before retiring to bed for the night…and hopefully, she might go to sleep happy for the first time in six months.

Horny would be good too, but he'll take happy.

Sliding his key into the lock and opening the front door, he feels the delicate shifting of weight in his left arm as Selene's head turns back and forth and her arms randomly flap about, completely oblivious to the frown settling upon her father's face as his ears notice something.

The house is completely silent.

There's no ambient television noise, no music, nothing.

"Elsa?" he calls, ignoring the poking of his daughter's fingers into his ear, "we're home! Thought you might be hungry so I'm gonna make stir fry!"

Silence greets him.

"Elsa?" he calls again. "Are you okay, honey?"

No sweet voice to answer his calls, no words to bring relief to the unsettling sensation in his stomach. He quickly checks the windows of the kitchen to his right and the living room to his left. No shattered glass. Turning back to check the front door, there are no signs of forced entry, and there's no debris or signs of a struggle anywhere in the first floor of their house. For all intents and purposes, nothing but peace and quiet reigns within.

And that's what disturbs him the most.

Swallowing a feeling of mild nausea that creeps up into his throat, he carefully makes his way to the stairs at the opposite end of the living room, an amber sunset glow shining from the upstairs hallway window to greet him, and as softly as possible he ascends the steps to the second floor, his eyes quickly assessing the hallway. No signs of struggle there, either.

So what's going on? Did she decide to go for a walk or something?

That must be it. She went for a walk without letting me know.

Yet, the feeling of relief that should come with that crappy epiphany remains out of reach, and as both feet reach the hallway and make their way to the master bedroom, his hold on Selene tightens just that little bit. She's quiet, watchful in her own way, but completely oblivious.

"Elsa, honey? Are you in bed?" he calls again, and this time he can't hold back the worry in his voice. This is too weird.

Tentatively, uncertainly, he reaches out his right arm to the bedroom door, held slightly ajar, and horrific images course through his mind that he is all too willing to ignore. There was nothing on his journey to here from the front door that would indicate anything bad had happened…but things do happen.

And just as his fingertips touch the cold white painted wood of their bedroom doorway, he quickly pushes it open.

…and in the space of ten seconds, he wishes he had left it well enough alone as the fear courses through him, wondering what the hell is happening.

Her wardrobe is empty; every single t-shirt, pair of pants, dress and lingerie set is gone. The glass that holds her toothbrush and toothpaste, clearly visible in the open doorway to their ensuite bathroom is empty. Her nightstand is void of its contents, from her jewellery to her cell phone charger.

Even the book she bought last week, The History of World War Two is gone.

He panics, understandably. His clothes are still neatly hung up in his side of the wardrobe, from his smart suit for special occasions to his identical navy blue hooded sweater and brown pants. His bedclothes are still strewn across the floor on his side of the bed, untouched. The Avengers: Fear Itself hardback comic book that he has been reading is still haphazardly perched upon his nightstand. His possessions are there, hers are not.

Questions tear through his mind as Selene begins to whimper and cry, finally noticing the fear and the anguish that grips her father's face.

Did his wife leave him?

What did he do wrong?

Was this a practical joke? Because if it was, then it's definitely not funny.

He tries what any sensible husband would do, and amidst the increasingly loud and unhappy cries of his daughter he slides his cell phone out from the single pocket of his sweater and quickly hits the speed-dial for his wife's phone and raises it to his ear, ready to unleash a barrage of questions as to what the hell is going on.

Except, he can't. Voicemail.

He tries again. Same result.

Selene becomes increasingly frustrated now, her howls tearing at Jack's heart as he holds back tears, hoping for the best that this is all some bad dream, and as he tosses the phone onto the bed and gently bounces her in his arms, softly murmuring to her that it's all going to be okay, he notices a piece of paper on his pillow.

In that moment, he knows that he is lying to his daughter, because it's not going to be okay.

Carefully, he lays Selene down onto the bed and sits beside her, stretching to his left so his fingertips can reach the paper, and upon achieving their goal he yanks it over and begins to read…and feels his world begin to fall apart.

Jack,

I cannot do this anymore. When you read this, I will be long gone. It's for the best for you and Selene.

Please don't try to find me.

Forgive me.

Elsa.

The nausea transforms into a lump that threatens to suffocate him, and the tears that prick at his eyes try their damndest to slide down his cheek like a grieving waterfall.

She did leave him, and the worst part is he will never know why.

The trembling of the paper reflects his inner turmoil, a maelstrom of emotions from anger to deep sadness, from frantic confusion to dejected grief, and as Selene's cries become all the more needing and uncomprehending, it's all he can do to let the paper fall to the floor like a weighted corpse, gaze at his daughter with vacant eyes and pull himself along the bed to lay beside her tiny, frustrated form.

With arms as heavy as lead, he reaches across and pulls her towards him, burying his face in her child-like neck and with quiet, restrained sobs that impede his speech, he tells her in the most soothing voice he can muster the same lie once more.

"It's going to be okay, snowflake. Don't worry. It's going to be okay. Hush now, snowflake."

Her tearful cries tell him what he already knows, that it may never be okay.

A/N: I'll be surprised if anyone reads this, but if you do, thank you so much.