Yup. I've been super busy/lazy. But I'm not dead. Yet.

Luckily, I'm already working on the next chapter. :D Aaaaand there are only, like, three more left anyways. HAVE A GOOD TIME.

Jack wished he had a watch.

Time never had passed so slowly, and Jack was sure that if he did actually have a timepiece of some kind, the two hands would be frozen still, mocking him. The sun never seemed to sink any lower, and when Jack took to staring at it and waiting, he just felt unbearably hot. Another good thing would come with the night; the coolness of having only the moon gazing down on this side of the earth.

Jack felt a buzzing inside of his head. And tingling on his skin. And blood rushing in his cheeks.

Oh God, he thought, feeling waves of distracting sensations as he was suddenly concentrating on his body.

This was all because of her. Elsa. Her laugh and her face and her constant grouchiness. He smiled just at the thought. And to think, just the day before he was unsure about how he felt.

And it seemed as if she felt the same way! Jack involuntarily stood up from his crouch in the snow and started roaming the woods aimlessly, to be in movement with his thoughts. He swung his staff in a wide arch of careless happiness. Usually Jack would have gone to the town during the day in order to entertain himself, but he found that he would much rather stay in the same spot under the trees. The spot where Elsa had bid him goodbye that early morning, kissing his cheek in the process. He immediately brightened and his itching impatience drained away for a moment. It was late afternoon already, and soon Jack would be able to see Elsa again.

He imagined greeting her. Maybe embracing her to say hello. A sudden wave of self-consciousness washed over Jack, and he ruffled his hair in discomfort. He hoped that Elsa would be as eager to see him as he was to see her. It would be awkward if she wasn't.

Jack scoffed at how . . . girly he was getting. Then he rolled his eyes and decided to think about that when he wasn't so preoccupied.

For not the first time in the last few hours, Jack felt a rush of satisfaction that Elsa was a girl his age. Or at least, what seemed to be around his age. Jack thought about it for a moment. How old was he? Fifteen? Twenty? He looked down to examine his hands, setting his staff down for a moment, before confirming that he was probably somewhere in between, which he had decided a century ago. Whatever his physical age might appear, Jack was reaching his one-hundred and twentieth birthday in a few years, and he didn't feel any sort of adult maturity forming in the least.

But yes, Jack couldn't think of another age or gender that he would rather Elsa to be. She was stubborn yet hard working, funny yet headstrong. Jack felt himself admiring things that he had previously thought were utterly annoying.

A sudden crackle in the undergrowth to Jack's right alerted him. He started, jerking his gaze towards the source of the sound. A pair of wide, dark eyes gazed back at him from a brown-furred face. A deer. It watched Jack warily, its head lowered to be almost at his level. However hesitant it seemed, Jack could see no fear in its eyes.

It was strange to think that the deer was completely unafraid of Jack, while it would have fled from any other human. Except, Jack wasn't sure he was human at all, and that must have been the reason for the deer's lack of fear. He sighed.

When the deer turned and began to walk through the undergrowth deeper into the woods, Jack simply followed. He had a good sense of direction and nothing else to do except wait with his thoughts.

The deer never looked back, seemingly uninterested in its follower, trampling through the steadily thicker undergrowth. Jack had to start travelling through the branches of trees after a few minutes, the bushes growing too dense to walk through. The sky was barely visible between the leaves above, a grayish blue of wispy clouds, sliced apart by criss-crosses of thin, interlacing branches. The trees were brittle and gray with winter, covered in a skin of ice. The snow crackled softly under the deers delicate footing, previously virgin and unbroken due to the apparent inaccessibility of this thicker part of the forest. The castle was being left farther and farther behind Jack, but he knew he would be able to return to it would just leave the cover of trees and take to the sky.

Eventually, Jack and the deer stopped at a small, slightly unfrozen creek. The water was shallow and trickling lightly through the streambed, the usual silence accompanied by a pleasant gurgling sound. A partially thawed edging of ice jutted over the water from both sides, having covered the flow previously, but then melted by the movement of the unfrozen water underneath. When Jack looked up, the deer had already begun to walk away, up the incline that the stream was feeding from. Jack decided not to follow, and stepped into the water. It was pleasantly icy with meltwater, his ankles creating deep ripples in the current.

He began walking downhill through the stream, curving where it curved and making random and pointless ice patterns on the trees that bordered the water. He would just out with his staff to tap them where they stood on the bank. It was peaceful and relaxing, and when Jack looked up at the sky again through the breakage of trees above the stream, it was lit with orange to the west, and rapidly darkening above. Jack's heart picked up speed, pounding audibly against the front of his ribcage. He would see Elsa in just an hour or so. Jack's mood rising instantly, his pace grew faster until he noticed that the water in the creek was becoming more shallow.

Right up ahead, the trees had parted considerably, and Jack saw the lake's frozen surface gleaming in the dim light. In the time of a few minutes, Jack was standing on the lake's edge in just a few inches of partially frozen water. When all the snow melted, the water would flood the creek and rush down the hill to that very spot, and then would churn into the lake and melt the ice with the flow. He wondered if he would be there to see it, still in Arendelle when spring arrived.

Jack stepped onto the lake and walked across its glassy surface towards a familiar bit of bank. It was clear of trees and covered with about two feet of snow. It was also the very bank where Jack had first stepped into the sightline of Elsa. He smiled slightly at the memory, remembering how he had chased her down the path towards the castle. It seemed like it was years ago already.

When Jack reached the bank, he walked across the familiar bit of undergrowth until he reached the recently felled tree. There, nearly hidden in a cluster of branches, was Elsa's unfinished statue. It was standing where it had been left the previous night. Jack sat down cross legged on the horizontal trunk and laid his staff across his lap, trying to make his gaze wander from where it was now fixed on the path. The sky was dark and the sunset almost gone, the trees casting long, dark shadows across the glittering snow.

Jack waited, his heartbeat growing in anticipation by the minute. He wondered what he should do when she made her way to the fallen tree. Should he try to act cool and ignore that it had happened, while flirting with her obviously? Should he just walk right up, get it over with and kiss her? The feeling Jack was getting however, was just that his thoughts would most likely be swept away when she walked up, and that he would probably trip over himself while being awkward. But that idea wasn't as scary as he thought it would be. He just wanted to see Elsa and make her laugh.

The sky was fully dark within an hour, and the absence of light seemed to calm Jack's nerves a bit. He didn't sleep often, but he felt drowsy all of a sudden. He smiled into the inky shadows of the trees, imagining just laying in the snow beside Elsa and just gazing up at the stars. With the idea, Jack quickly looked up to find that the sky was full of clouds covering even the bright glow of the moon. There would be no star-gazing that night; but that didn't really matter.

Once another hour had passed, the wind picked up. Jack's moment of meaningless thinking had passed, and he was now tapping his right foot anxiously against the log. Elsa usually showed up by that time. The moon was now gathering height, almost invisible behind the clouds, and Jack glanced up at it so often it would probably appear that he had a twitch. It was his only sense of the time, and it seemed like an eternity so far.

The third hour for Jack was spent in a state of growing worry. His heartbeat picked up speed again, and his pathetic thoughts about how to greet Elsa were thrown to the winds as he began pacing around the small clearing. All he wanted was for her to show up now. The minutes seemed to be just ticking along by now. Jack eventually decided, on impulse, to go to the pathway. After stumbling awkwardly from the undergrowth in his anxiousness, Jack arrived on the edge of the path and sat in a snowbank, tapping his foot again. He could see all the way down the path to the castle wall if he squinted, and there wasn't a single bit of movement. Not a swish of a violet cloak to be seen.

Jack didn't know why he was being stubborn, but for some reason he was attached to the idea of Elsa coming to meet him. He wasn't supposed to care if something came up and she abruptly couldn't meet him. If he had never suddenly started feeling for her, he wouldn't have cared if she couldn't make it to a meeting one time. But now Jack's yearning was like a physical ache, and he knew he would be bitterly disappointed if he had to wait a whole other day before seeing her again. He wanted her to make a move, to show that she cared. He wanted her to sneak out of the window and into the forest to see him.

It was midnight when Jack finally swallowed his pride and started determinedly down the path and towards the dark castle. It was lucky he had such good eyesight, or he probably would have impaled himself on a branch or something along the way. It took him a whole seven steps before he relented to his desire to make it there as soon as possible. Hell, he was giving in to chasing her now, why not get there quicker? He jumped into the air and flew, feeling as his cloak lifted up off of his body in the wind.

Within minutes he was at the gates of the castle's high stone wall, and landed silently like a cat. He forgot that he was invisible to almost all people, and crept through the shadows towards the many windows, before mentally slapping himself and stepping into the open to walk towards the old tree leaning against the wall in a much quicker route. He then flew up, parallel to the wall, until he landed in the high branch that was jutting below the large, triangular window.

Jack had only seen the window twice before, but it was still strange to see it covered with a thick royal blue curtain. He stood there uncertainly for a moment, shaking slightly with nerves. What if Elsa was sick or just simply tired? Would it be weird that he was outside her window knocking for her like a crazy person? He crouched, going over his options for a few minutes, before standing again, grinding his teeth and tapping softly on the window before he could stop himself.

He waited, cringing slightly, for a bit.

Nothing.

Jack tapped again, a little louder this time. He stood on the branch, his arm still raised from the knock, holding his breath. He gazed through the glass at the curtain, wishing he could see through it to see if Elsa was in there. The curtains fibers looked thick though, and his vision wasn't able to penetrate it. After a minute, there was still no answer.

Jack rapped his knuckles sharply on the glass, listening to the hollow echo sink into the curtains.

Jack spent the next hour knocking. His taps grew into a crescendo of slamming his fist into the glass and the window frame, calling Elsa's name, hoping she would hear. He would stop after each strike and sit silently for a moment, waiting for the sound of muffled, approaching footsteps. He hoped that if anyone opened the curtains, it would be her.

Soon, he stopped. It was clear that no one was coming anytime soon. So he ended his frenzied attempts to pound through the window and sat on the high branch, his back against the windowsill with the back of his head resting on the ice-cold glass. He wrapped his cloak around himself and waited. He waited six hours until he knocked again, in the pink-grey light of a receding dawn. There was no answer.

Jack spent four days knocking on the window, never leaving the branch. Every night it felt as if he were holding his breath for hours, praying and hoping that the stupid curtains would be whisked aside all of a sudden, and he would see Elsa's startled face a foot from his own. Each sunrise that he witnessed, it seemed that his heart sank lower in his chest. On the beginning of the fifth day, when it felt as if Jack's heart was stone-heavy in his stomach, he stopped knocking again, this time for good.

The next several days, Jack let himself sleep on the same branch. He had never lost himself to unconsciousness so often in his life, but then again, he had never woken up as tired as he did every time he opened his eyes.

The cold started to get more intense, and Jack felt as if the fire in his veins had burned out. He didn't know whether to feel angry or terrified, and he seemed to be experiencing an uncomfortable amount of both. The only time that he could feel an echo of the tingling that used to be ever-present was when he remembered the one night he had with Elsa, speeding through the early-morning clouds. He quickly feel back into despair with any other thought. He tried not to let himself contemplate what had happened. It could have been anything; she could be sick, busy, or simply away. Maybe the guards had caught her sneaking out and she couldn't get away anymore to tell him. Maybe it was unthinkably worse than that. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

. . . .

It had been two weeks since Elsa had disappeared. Or at least disappeared from Jack. He felt as if he would lash out at the first thing that crossed his path. Sometimes he even felt cold, but he had a feeling that he was just making his bodies feel the symptoms of it. He shivered and let his teeth chatter just to distract himself. He was alone with only the wind, his ever-darkening thoughts, and the looming triangular window.

Jack dreaded going to the town. He knew that, if he tried hard enough, he would be able to find and eavesdrop on a conversation that would tell him why the hell Elsa was gone. But in a way, he didn't want any confirmation. He only dreaded finding out that the reason for her absence was of the worst kind. Each time he woke up, the first thing he would do was mentally convince himself for some reason or another not to leave the castle. He was too tired; maybe Elsa would finally open that goddamn window and find him gone; he couldn't bear to learn the truth. But as the days passed, Jack started to run out of arguments.

The day that Jack finally stepped off the branch for the first time in two and a half weeks was the coldest day he had ever experienced. The ground might have been slightly sheltered from the raging storm, but in the air, Jack was in the center of it. It was like a roaring wild animal, wind tearing into his clothes and ice burning his face. Jack could have controlled it with his normal abilities, but today he felt hollow and used up. Broken. It took almost too much effort for him to fly through the gale.

The snow quieted down by the time he reached the little village. The road was full of drifts and the shop windows looked glowing and warm. Jack saw the people milling about at a distance, and slowed down. He felt like he wasn't ready. He wanted more than anything to fly right back to the castle and spend another day knocking on the window, but he steeled himself. He would have to find out sometime. And today was that day.

As Jack neared the people, he knew something was wrong. It made the air feel colder and the shops look less bright. He dropped from the air to walk the rest of the way. His body felt shaky and weak. It only took a few more minutes to confirm his worst fear; it wasn't a trick of the light or the storm. Every person in the village, men, women and children alike, were wearing black. Their faces were sorrowful and gaunt, many of their eyes red from crying and the bitter cold. Death hung in the air over them like a sentence that had struck and intended to strike again.

Jack sagged against the ground, letting out the breath he had been holding in a strangled gasp. Feeling akin to a rotted and frozen tree stump, Jack staggered to his feet and jumped into the wind.

Jack rose faster than he had ever tried before, speeding like a comet away from the ground, screaming wordlessly into the air whipping around him. He wanted his stupid endless existence to be over. He didn't want to face the evidence, the facts laid out clearly before him. He wanted to finally go numb.

When the air was too thin to breath in, Jack looked down. The countryside was a blur of green thousands of miles below him. He could see it through the distant layers of clouds. He glared at it, his face dry and feeling as if it were made of stone. Made of ice.

Jack let himself fall, commanding the wind not to catch him. He gathered speed, rushing down through the clouds, facing upwards toward the stars, feeling the swooping sensation of a bird with suddenly broken wings. He fell for what felt like forever, unable to see the earth beneath his back. His only sense of time was the stars growing more and more distant.

When Jack burst through the final cloud, the world was an icy blur. His felt as if it were still up with the stars, and he had a sickness in his stomach that he had never experienced before. He hoped that it would finally be enough this time.

The roar in his ears was inconceivably loud, but the crunch of his body hitting the ground was impossibly louder. All the breath was driven from his body, his skull apparently cracking in two due to the pain Jack felt. Every inch of him was on fire, and it felt terribly wonderful compared to the hollowness before his fall.

Jack burned on the inside for hours. Or, that was what it felt like. He had very little concept of time during the period of agony. It slowly began to fade, receding from his fingertips, and then from his hands and feet, then curled up into two little balls of pain in his chest and brain. He never once opened his eyes, but allowed himself to flex his fingers experimentally for a little while. Eventually, he fell asleep.

He was asleep a long time.

When there was only a pounding, dull ache, Jack opened his eyes to consciousness. He felt a dusting of snow covering his body, and even more built up along his sides, which meant he had been laying there for at least a day. He sat up achingly slowly, trying not to fall over with the waves of dizziness and nausea. If he had had anything in his stomach he would have vomited long ago; now all he could do was groan until he was propped up on his elbows. There were evergreens towering over him, some of their branches ripped and hanging from Jack's violent descent. The sky was clear and dark, the moon hanging through the clouds like a familiar face.

It was a long time until Jack got to his feet, dusting off the powdery snow and wincing at the pain that shot through him at the movement. He then set off into the shadows, walking without leaving footprints. The only destination he had in mind was away from the growing agony inside of him, that was all mental and nothing to do with the physical aching.

DON'T FREAK OUT.

Okay. You're okay.

But - while the feels are fresh - I have a suggestion. (1) Look up Let it Go/Let Her Go by Sam Tsui, and find a lyric video. Since it's only a lyric video, you don't have to worry about many visual distractions. (2) Find your most awesome pair of headphones and lay down, putting on said headphones. (3) Start playing the song, and put a pillow over your face to block out the rest of the world. (4) Imagine Jack, lost in sorrow, somehow breaking into a place that has a piano in it or something and singing/playing the song. (5) Cry.

Cheerio.