Hi! Okay, so I took my sister to see Rise of the Guardians for her birthday a few days ago. Loved the movie. But I couldn't get over the fact that really, he had died, and that his sister had to deal with it. So sad! But I just couldn't get it out of my head. So I wrote this fic. I dedicate it to all those who have ever had to deal with the loss of a sibling. Enjoy.

She scrabbles on the ice, staring at the jagged hole. Her brother had been there a moment ago. She should know. He had just saved her from the very thing that he was now in, the icy clutches of the freezing water. He had been standing there, looking so pleased with himself. He had saved her from going through the thin ice. And then- a loud, cracking noise- a splash of frigid water, and- nothing.

It is the nothing that terrifies her. Her brother can swim. He had promised to teach her next summer. Why isn't he coming up? Why iss his head not popping up above the water, cold, but grinning as always? She scans the rippling surface, fear taking hold of her mind. She sits down heavily on the ice, not caring about how cold it is. Her gaze is locked firmly upon that hole in the ice. Her brother can not be gone. He is too... alive.

They had been planning this day for weeks, checking the pond every day to see if the ice was thick enough yet. He had been going to show her how to skate backwards. Today had been the first day that their mother had agreed to let them go. It should have been thick enough. But it wasn't. The ripples have cleared now. The water is still. She doesn't know how long she has been sitting there. She can't feel her toes. But that doesn't matter.

All that she cares about is the hole. She eyes it with increasing dread, refusing to harbor the small voice in her mind that declares that her brother is not coming out. She won't acknowledge that possibility.

Her brother has been there for her all her life. He is her protector. Sure, he plays tricks sometimes. But he always makes it up to her if she gets too scared. He knows just the right thing to say to cheer her up. He knows the right thing to do to help the butterfly with the hurt wing. He knows what games are the most fun to play in the winter, and in the summer as well. Who will show her these things now? Who will protect her? Who will make life fun? She has her mother, of course, but her mother is very busy. Her brother always had time for her.

She hears the sounds of laughter and talking. They come closer and closer, but she doesn't look to see who it is.

"Hey!" someone shouts.

She doesn't answer. She doesn't look at them. Her attention remains fixed on the hole.

"You're Jack's little sister, aren't you? Have you seen him?"

In response, she points at the hole.

She hears them talking in low voices. They sound confused, and scared. Just like she feels.

"I'm going to go get help," she hears a voice proclaim. "Try to get her off the ice, but be careful. Don't go near the hole."

A minute later, she hears footsteps right behind her, then a hand on her shoulder.

"Come on. Are you okay?."

She doesn't move. No. She's not okay. Her brother is in that hole. And it's all her fault. She's the one who skated right out to the middle of the pond, taking no thought about how thick it was. Or wasn't. It is her fault that he... that he might be... gone.

She bursts into tears, twisting around and burying her face in the knee of the person behind her. He stoops and scoops her up. It's one of her brother's friends. He begins to carry her off the ice and her heart rips itself apart. She looks back over the boy's shoulder at the hole, which has started to crust over. The stick that he used to save her rests nearby.

The boy hands her off to a couple of girls, also friends of her brother. They look dreadfully worried. They bundle her in a large warm coat and try to get her to talk, to tell them what happened. But she can't. She can do nothing but sob. Her brother is gone. Jack is not coming back.

Years pass. Her tears eventually dry up, but not because she is no longer sad. She no longer has any tears to shed. She is known as the quiet girl, the one who barely talks. Her mother is strong for her daughter, and she tries to be strong for her mother as well. Their home feels like a hole has been punched through it, leaving an empty, hollow space. She never goes to the pond, not even in summer. She never learns to swim. She gives away her skates to a smaller girl in the village.

They never found his body. That's her only comfort. The slimmest ray of hope that maybe her brother did survive. Because, for some reason, deep down, he doesn't feel dead. Gone, yes. But not dead. She can sense him, every time the ground freezes. She doesn't know why. She doubts she will ever discover the reason.

Eventually, though, the frost becomes her consolation. Jack always loved the frost. And many years later, that is what she begins to call it.

"He comes in the night," she tells her own children. "He spreads the frost all over. He covers the trees, and the grass. He makes the patterns on the windows. It's his frost."

"Whose?" her children ask her, their eyes wide with wonder.

"Jack's," she replies. "It's Jack's Frost."

And out in the night, the Man in the Moon winks.

I hope you liked it. It is a oneshot, in case you were wondering. Please favorite and/or review. Queen out.