Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"I'm telling you, Rio is overrated. Camping by Lake Huron will be just as fun and twice as exciting." Jamie grinned back at Caleb and Claude as they followed him out of the Student Center and down the snow-packed sidewalk toward the university dormitories. "We can catch the last of the ski season and finally track down Bigfoot."

"Jamie…we talked about this…" Caleb frowned and shot Claude a furtive sidelong glance. "It's time to drop the whole Bigfoot thing…I mean…it was fun for awhile, but…"

"Bikinis, bro…bikinis…" Claude drew up alongside Jamie and clapped him on the shoulder.

Jamie frowned and stuffed his hands in his pockets, raising his shoulders against the subtle rejection. "But he's out there! What about those footprints we found last year—and the photo on the trail cam?"

"Look, man…" Caleb kicked a tar-stained chunk of ice into the road. "Even if he is real, who cares…? Monty just accepted that tech job in Texas, and I'm going to grad school in Montreal. This is the team's last real spring break…I don't want to spend it trekking through the mountains looking for monsters, okay?"

"Just skiing then…?" Jamie's breath puffed over his scarf as he stopped at the turn to his dorm. He felt a deep ache in his chest as the rift in his childhood friendship grew steadily deeper. They would always be friends, but that raw kinship that comes with a passion for something wonderful…that feeling was fading like a candle in the dark. "I know you guys had your heart set on Rio, but there's just no way I can get that much together in time…you know what they pay me at the center."

Caleb gave him a pitying look as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. They were going to leave him behind. He could feel it. "We'll talk it over…See you at lunch tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Jamie forced a smile and turned his back on his friends, his feet crunching on compressed snow as he walked up the steps to his dorm.

It had been years since that fateful Easter…the night his belief in goodness and light had been renewed and strengthened. The fabled Guardians played a solid role in his games and conversations for years after the group's shared adventure, but one by one, his friends stopped believing, setting their childhood faith aside to enter the dark uncertainty of adulthood. Still, every year when the frost crept across his bedroom window, Jamie couldn't help but remember…

He saw Jack Frost in everything: fresh snow in December, branches slick with ice, the laughter of children at the day-care center. No doubt his friends had written the whole adventure off as a game of make-believe, or a shadow of a dream, but in his heart, he knew magic was real.

It was that conviction that drove the wedge between them. Twenty-four-year-old students of anthropology don't believe in Santa or the Easter Bunny. The idea was laughable—almost certifiably absurd. Some unpleasant conversations with his child psychiatrist had long since taught him not to talk about the Guardians with adults, but children, on the other hand…

"Jamie! Jamie!" A small boy screamed and threw himself at the college student as he walked into the center. "It snowed! It really snowed! Look!" The boy dragged Jamie to the window and pointed out into the daycare grounds. "We made a fort and Megan ate yellow snow!" He covered his mouth as he laughed and looked impishly back at a girl with curly red hair.

"I did not! Lee, you're a big fat liar!" The girl pulled on Jamie's hand and looked intently up at his face. "Can we go outside? Pleeease? I want to play in the snow some more!"

"Yeah! Let's play!" Lee said, resting a foot on Jamie's shin and pulling on his other hand, apparently intent on climbing all five-foot-nine-inches of the day care attendant.

"Okay, but coats, gloves, and hats or no deal." The children squealed and ran to collect their things. Jamie loved being at the day-care center. He only had three or four shifts a week, but spending time with the children was always a welcome relief. Truthfully, acting like an adult felt like a lie—like he was walking around in someone else's skin.

He had some pretty bad issues with relationships—he could admit that. Flirting seemed like some undecipherable foreign language. He was moderately attractive, or at least girls seemed to think so, but every relationship he tried ended badly. It wasn't the sex. That was fine—great, in fact. It was that time right after the initial buzz started to fade when girls seemed to sense he was holding a part of himself back…

Pippa had been particularly painful. Pippa…the last of his friends to forget, the last person he could talk to. They had dated on and off since high school, but…it wasn't enough. Everyday she wanted more from him—more time, more money, more of his freedom. He wasn't ready for that level of commitment…so she left, her parting words burning deep scars in his heart.

You're such a selfish child, Jamie Bennett! Why can't you just grow up like everyone else!

"You're like a celebrity around here." Allison, the center's general manager, ruffled his hair affectionately. "Twenty minutes, then it's back inside. If one of them catches a cold, we'll never hear the end of it. Do you need me to keep watch?"

"I think we'll be okay." He smiled at the older woman and smoothed his hair down before pulling on his own hat and gloves.

"You're so good with them…" She sighed and gave him a rather wistful look. "You know, my daughter-"

"Jamie, come on! Hurry! Mark is going to claim the fort!" Lee shouted and pulled him toward the doors to the playground. Jamie gave Allison an apologetic smile and followed the children outside. He must have had a thousand snowball fights since he said goodbye that night. Of course, it was foolish to expect the winter spirit to visit every brawl. No doubt he was busy with his duties as a Guardian, but Jamie often wondered if Jack even remembered him…especially now that he was older. He took comfort in the warm weight of the silver quarter hanging on a chain inside his sweater—his last gift from the Tooth Fairy. No one else would sneak into his dormitory to take his wisdom teeth. It had to be her. They're real. They're real. They're real.

"I'm on snowball duty! Ready the ammo!" Lee ordered and took his place on the snow fort's battlements. The other children scurried to collect snow, forming an arsenal of round projectiles.

Megan grinned as she advanced on the fort, red hair bright as fire against the white snow. "We'll take that fort this time, Lee Aldrich."

"Over my dead body!" He jeered at her, narrowly dodging a snowball and hurling one of his own, catching Megan square in the chest. Intent on revenge, the other girls stormed the fort, bombarding them with snow. Jamie dashed out from behind the fort, dodging missiles and drawing the enemy's fire, sliding like a baseball player through the fluffy snow and sending flakes swirling through the air like a miniature blizzard. The children's laughter was infectious. Jamie quickly lost himself in their enjoyment, all thoughts and worries momentarily forgotten.

Jack Frost smiled as the wind dropped him on the steeple of the town chapel, gazing down at the merriment below. It was nice to see his work appreciated, even if he didn't have a hand in the fun. He swung his staff and flew down from his perch, bringing a fresh storm of flurries with him.

"Come on boys, you can do better than that." He chided, replenishing their stack of snowballs and gliding alongside the fray, tossing a few choice shots to keep the game going. The little red head climbed the back of a tall man with tousled brown hair and hung from his shoulders like a cape, but….no—he stopped dead on the wind, his heart pounding as the man's eyes found his.

"Jack…" The name hung on the air like the falling snow. The little red head dropped off the man's shoulders as all the children stopped to follow his gaze, muttering and whispering as the winter spirit sparkled to life before their eyes.

"Real…he's really real…"

"I told you Jamie wouldn't lie to us."

"Shut up, Lee, nobody asked you."

"Kids, come on!" An older woman shouted from the doorway. "It's snowing again. Come inside."

"Jamie?" Megan glanced at the open door as she tugged on his sleeve.

"Jack…." Jamie took a step toward him, eyes wide.

No, no, NO! Jamie couldn't be here—Jamie wasn't supposed to see him. Jack took off in a gust of wind, desperate to fix what he'd just done. He had to get away—far away, and fast.

"JACK!"

Jamie ran, ignoring the worried calls from behind him as he sprinted after the ghost of his childhood. He jumped the gate and took off down the snow covered walk, trying to keep the white speck of Jack's hair in his sight. He practically skidded down University Drive and onto Main Street, grabbing an iron lamppost to turn the corner, his breath puffing out behind him in misty white clouds.

"JACK!" He shouted as the floating figure turned back to see him following. His foot came down on a patch of ice and slid out from under him. Careening helplessly down the steep hill, he rolled out into the street. There was a blast of sound and blinding light. He raised an arm to shield himself and was immediately yanked off the pavement, his boots scraping the top of the SUV as it blared past. He looked up, relieved to see Jack straining to support him.

"…You're a lot heavier than you used to be…" Jack groaned as he set Jamie down on the sidewalk. "Are you okay…?" He landed softly and crouched down to look at his old friend. "How come you can still—woah!" Jamie threw his arms around the white haired boy, pulling him close, cold frost melting against his cheek. "Jamie…" Jack sighed, resting a pale hand on the man's hair. "Hey, It's alright…I won't go, I promise."

Jamie let out a shaky breath and loosened his grip, looking up at the shockingly familiar face. Jack was exactly the same as he remembered, right down to the chilling bare of his feet. "I knew I wasn't crazy…"

"Jamie…" Jack ignored the statement and stood up, folding his arms over his staff. "You shouldn't be able to see me. You've got to be over twenty…"

"Twenty-four…" He blushed, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "I never stopped believing in you… Why…" He took a deep breath, tears stinging in his eyes, almost afraid to ask the question that had plagued him for so long. "Why didn't you come back…?"

Jack's eyes softened for a moment with a gentle sadness, almost—guilt? "I wanted to…more than anything, you have to know that." His gaze shifted to a man on the corner who stood whispering to his wife with a dubious look on his face as they both stared across the street. "Let's not talk about it here. People are staring."

Jamie's cheeks flushed as he realized how this conversation must look to an outsider. "Yeah, okay…"

Pulling the damp scarf from around his neck, Jamie tossed it onto a pile of laundry in the corner of the cramped room he called home. Jack sat in the windowsill, a wavering breeze playing in his hair as his eyes scanned the Rainbow Quest posters tacked to his friend's walls. A few drawings from the day-care center were pinned above a cluttered desk, and Jack smiled as he recognized himself in the scribbles.

"You ran away from me…" It was freezing with the window open, but Jamie wasn't about to complain. He turned away from the chill, setting a pot of coffee on to brew.

"I'm not supposed to let you see me."

"Says who?" Jamie opened a cupboard, searching for a spare mug.

"North…" Jack sighed and swung his legs down onto the carpet. "I felt so stupid when he told me…all that time I spent wishing people could see me…" He paused and drew a long, unsteady breath. "There's a reason most of the Guardians come at night—while the kids are safely tucked in their dreams."

Jamie set two steaming mugs on a small fold-out table, wrapping himself in his comforter as he settled into his desk chair. Jack sank into the opposing chair, his expression softening ever so slightly as he ran his fingers through the rising steam. "Belief is a powerful magic. It burns deep in the hearts of children and grows tall and bright when they hear sleigh bells or find their windows ringed in white on the morning of a snow day." A small crease appeared between his eyebrows. "But, eventually children become strong enough to stand without us. Their light fades and…they grow up."

"Your belief saved us all from the darkness once, but all magic has a price. If sleigh bells make a light glow brighter, can you imagine what seeing a Guardian does to a child? Sandy did his best to douse those fires with dreams, but your light was so bright…I'm…not sure you'll ever be able to let us go…" Jack raised his gaze, the ice blue of his irises seeming to melt with a complex mixture of sadness, longing, and regret.

"North was right. We've done you great harm…We all promised to stay away until you and the others were safely grown, but as usual, I've made a mess of everything." He ran his fingertips across the surface of the mug, drinking in the warmth until the hot liquid was frozen solid. "I'm sorry…"

Jamie's mouth pressed into a narrow line. "Why didn't I get a say in this? Who said I wanted to forget—to grow up?!" His fingers trembled as they gripped his own half-empty mug. "I want so much more than that—adventure, magic, excitement! I don't want to settle for—for a fucking mortgage!"

The mug flew across the room and smashed against the wall. Jack flew up out of the chair, his eyes wide with shock and hurt.

Betrayal stung like the bite of a dagger. All of them—working behind his back to pound him into the cogs of the human machine. He could see the vast void of his life looming before him like a hungry maw. Empty. Pointless. Mundane. All the things he had been taught to expect from life: marriage, a house in the suburbs, 2.5 kids, working a dead-end job until he dropped like a fly, meaningless and forgotten. There was nothing good about growing up—nothing at all. Jack was the one person he though he could count on to understand that.

"We protect children, Jamie…It's—it's what we do, I…"

"Get out." Jamie stood up, his voice cold with anger.

"Jamie!"

"GET OUT." He shouted and pushed the frozen boy as hard as he could.

Jack drifted toward the window, a despondent look on his handsome face. Then, like a fleeting dream, he was gone… leaving Jamie feeling more alone than he'd ever felt in his life.

Chapter Text

Jack stared down at the red flush on his fingers, a ghost of warmth still lingering on his frozen skin. Jamie's angry words seemed to echo in the darkening sky like the crack of a rifle. How could everything fall to pieces so quickly? His feet touched the familiar ice of the lake—the one place that linked him to the faint memories of warmer days, when he'd had a family…a sister. Breathing in little gasps, he fell to his knees, resting his head on his staff. Jamie…the first boy to see him, the first to truly believe…The rejection hurt more than he'd ever imagined. Snowflakes spun in tiny circles across the ice and settled on Jack's shoulders like a winter mantle. If he was honest, part of him was glad Jamie remembered—had always hoped he would. His fingers tightened on the staff as he bit his lip, chiding himself for the selfish thought. Jamie had a life, a future he would never have, and it was wrong to wish that away. At least…that's how he'd felt before tonight. Who said I wanted to forget—to grow up?! Guilt washed over him as he tried to keep his thoughts in check.

He had to do something—fix this mess before his friend's life was ruined forever. North…North would set things straight. He stood up, snow falling from his shoulders and dancing around him. The wind seemed to sense his urgency and pushed at his back.

"Yeah…let's go." He jumped and let the current sweep him up onto the back of the north wind.

The northern fortress was every bit as intimidating as he remembered. The winds around the pole were wild and unpredictable. Some would take him in a straight line just as he asked them to, while others twisted him to and fro like a scrap of paper. Normally this was a game he enjoyed, but today he couldn't bother with their mischief. Jack skirted under the howling maze, sliding along a makeshift frozen highway until he found the loose panel on the western edge of North's factory. The yetis would probably let him in the front door if he convinced them he was here on business, but he didn't have time to observe the social niceties associated with that nonsense.

Carefully, he climbed through a tangle of wires and metal braces until the smell of baking cookies led him to the kitchen pantry. Prying off a few wooden planks, he pushed aside a large bag of flour and cracked open the door to the kitchen. There were several yetis lumbering around, stirring great vats of cocoa and carrying massive trays of cookies. Jack aimed his staff with great precision, freezing one of the pipes next to the ventilation shaft. The pipe cracked and hissed as steam wafted out over the kitchen, shrouding the room in a haze of white. Safely hidden, Jack floated up to the ceiling and zipped out the metal doors, ignoring the frantic grunts and yells of the kitchen staff.

Left…right…up two flights of stairs…down the corridor, around the main production area, and there! The door to North's workshop! He was about to open the door, when a massive furry hand lifted him off the floor. Damn! The yeti held him at arms length and launched into a grunted diatribe, clearly enraged that Jack had made it so far without being detected.

"Come on, Phil, cut me some slack. I'm not here to make trouble." Jack tried to look as harmless as possible. "I just want to talk to the big man, ok?"

They yeti narrowed his eyes and huffed as he knocked on the large wooden door.

"Come in." A deep voice boomed. Phil pushed his way through the undersized entryway, scraping his captive against the door frame.

"Watch it!" Jack rubbed his nose, still dangling by the back of his sweatshirt. Nicholas St. North set down his half-finished sculpture and lifted his goggles, looking first at Phil, then at the boy caught in his hands. "Jack! How nice of you to visit. Why is Phil bringing you like piece of meat?"

Phil grunted a brief explanation and dropped Jack on the floor.

"You did not catch me on the first floor landing." He muttered, dusting off his trousers.

"But he did catch you." North laughed and waved the Yeti away. "You don't have to sneak through walls like mouse, Jack. I will see you if you ask."

"I'm sorry…It's important. I don't have time for milk and cookies." Jack picked up a small sculpture of an elf and turned it over in his hands. "Jamie saw me."

"I see..." North pulled on his coat and took the elf from Jack, setting it back with the other odd sculptures on his workbench. "Tooth told me this as well. He did not see her, but she took his wisdom teeth in November."

"So…you knew he hadn't forgotten? Why didn't you warn me…?" Jack followed the bearded man out of the workshop and down through the hustle and bustle of the production area.

"It was weeks before Christmas. I had job to do, as did you." He paused to inspect a new design model and passed it back to the yeti in charge of the project. "We need more snow on Christmas."

Jack rolled his eyes. "I told you, it's too warm in December. It'll just rain."

North huffed and stopped in front of the large globe in the center of the factory. Tiny golden lights dotted the continents in little clusters. Jack stared fondly up at it, remembering a time when the lights had dwindled to one…one…he did a double take, staring up at a single spot on the rotating orb. North pressed a button on the control panel and the rotation stopped, giving Jack a good look at Burgess. A host of golden lights had sprung up around a single white radiance.

"That's…Jamie?" His stomach twisted as he looked at the bright light engulfing his hometown.

"Yes." North shooed a few elves off a battered desk chair. "Off with you, pointy heads. Go see what is keeping cookies."

The elves looked at each other and scurried away through the working yetis, their little hoods jingling melodically.

"Sit down, Jack. We will take care of your friend, but there are things I should explain."

Jack perched on the back of chair, resting his feet on the seat. "You said he'd be fine last time."

"We did our best—gave him every chance at easy life, but in the end it's not our choice to make." Elves pushed a large tray of cookies on the desk. Jack couldn't help but notice they seemed a little burnt around the edges. "Your friend is Luminary, one who sees the world with open eyes." He took a bite of a star-shaped cookie, sending a shower of crumbs into his white beard.

"In the past we called them wizards, magicians—humans who can master the power of belief. That was before scientists confined possibility to formulas and physics." He paused to stare up at Jamie's light, a wistful expression on his face. "It is hard life to live…This world is cynical and cruel. The powerful are locked away with the sick—forced to take pills that dampen their light. This is why we are so careful…" He sighed, and frowned. "Jamie is first Luminary in sixty years…"

"He's not locked up yet…and if we all help, he doesn't have to be." Jack leaned forward on the chair, resting his hands on his knees. "…right?"

"I will call meeting of guardians to discuss Jamie Bennett." North grasped a handle on the control panel and twisted it until the attached hexagonal crystal dropped down into its apparatus, connecting with something inside the machinery. The crystal glowed bright blue. Outside the workshop's sizable window, the northern lights flickered playfully in the sky, sending out a silent call to the other guardians. North stuffed a hand in the pocket of his giant fur-lined coat and tossed a familiar orb to Jack. "You bring the boy. I think it best we include him."

Jack frowned, unsure of how Jamie would receive him after their last meeting.

"You need sack?" The old man held up the very same red velvet sack that had once snatched Jack.

"That'd be a no…" Jack grimaced and hopped down off the chair. "Jamie's room."

The snow globe shimmered, showing a distorted view of his friend's cluttered living space. With a long sigh, Jack threw the orb at the wall and jumped through the resulting portal.

Chapter Text

The coffee stain seemed to burn into the beige plaster like acid, a constant reminder of his foolish outburst. Jack would never come back, now… In a cold daze, Jamie swept the broken shards off the floor, but the mug was gone forever—shattered. He had wasted his one chance...lost another friend. The stain on the wall seemed to grow as the light faded from his room, taunting him with dripping black lines of viscous ichor, eating away at the hope he'd felt at the Guardian's return.

Wishing he could melt into the floor, Jamie retrieved his blankets and sank onto his bed, staring aimlessly out the open window. The first strands of sleep sand had just begun spiraling down from the sky, finding the town's sleeping children and soothing their fears with the sweetness of fantasy. This was the one miracle he could always count on. He loved watching Sandman's golden lights, imagining the shape each dream would take when it finally came to rest. His mouth twitched. Would he ever be able to share this wonder again?

Jamie, look! That one has to be a dinosaur! It's huge!

No, that one's a robot, see? It just went into Monty's room.

He could still remember these lights reflected in Pippa's wide eyes, the smell of cinnamon-vanilla as she rested her head on his chest. It seemed like only yesterday, but the Pippa he knew was gone…grown into a woman who couldn't see lights in the sky, or hear the soft whisper of bells on a cold December night. Gripping his knees to his chest, Jamie drew in a long, measured breath. It was cold…freezing…He should shut the window.

A shiver shot up his spine as his bare feet touched the icy floor. At first he assumed it was the cold, but an alarming sense of dread washed over him, raising goose bumps on his arms. Jamie stumbled and backed away, his breath a white fog in the dark. Something was wrong…Keeping his back to the window, he stood in the faint light from the streetlamps, his eyes sweeping the elongated shadows. Something…something was there. His gaze caught on the space beneath his bed and he froze. The blackness was…moving…stretching eerily forward, a thousand ink-black fingers grasping for purchase on the wood floor. Jamie's heart caught in his throat. He couldn't move—couldn't breathe. The gap opened, stretching wider and wider, ready to swallow him whole. A dark figure stepped from the gaping chasm, the nightmare skirting on the edge of his dreams, the one thing he'd hoped never to see again.

"Pitch…" He choked before he could stop himself. "Pitch Black…"

"Yes…" The man's mouth twisted in a satisfied smile, his yellow eyes glinting in the fading light. "You remember me…How delightful. I remember you, too, Jamie Bennett…the last light. Yes, I remember you very well…"

Blood pounding in his ears, Jamie inched away from the creeping shadows. If he could just flip the switch beside the door…He turned, dashing for the little panel on the wall, but Pitch was too fast. Shadows erupted from the cracks in the floor, the closet, the heating vent, the space under his desk. In the blink of an eye, everything was gone, swallowed whole by the nothingness all around him. Jamie turned, backing away past the place where his dormitory wall used to be.

"That was very rude of you, Jamie." Pitch's dark whisper tickled the young man's ear as he appeared behind him. Jamie jumped and spun around again, choking on a scream. "You invited me here…the least you could do is show a little hospitality…"

"I-I didn't…" Every instinct in his body screamed at him to run away as fast and far as his legs would carry him, but he could barely move.

"You did." Pitch's evil laughter drifted endlessly into the void. "Little boy, your fear is positively infectious."

"I'm not afraid of you!" Jamie lied, ripping his hand away frantically. "And I'm—I'm not little."

"No." Pitch circled him, flitting through the shadows like a ghost. "But you are afraid—so very afraid: of growing old, of losing your friends, of dying alone as you watch your dreams crumble into dust..."

"Shut up!" Jamie bit his lip, fists clenched tightly as Pitch called out his greatest fears, nightmares so real, they haunted him even in his waking hours.

"The Guardians were so very cruel to you, Jamie." Jamie felt a puff of air on his cheek and Pitch was there, standing at his side, his harsh features set in a pained expression that could almost pass for human.

"After everything you did for them, all the sacrifices you made to keep your faith alive…You saved the world, yet they cast you off like a broken doll, leaving you with nothing but nightmares for company…" Pitch rested his hands on the young man's shoulders and leaned forward. "I know that pain so very well, Jamie…I've lived with it for centuries. Your guardians are no heroes. They took everything I had, buried me in a dark hole, and left me to rot. Does that sound noble to you?"

Jamie shook his head, his brow furrowed. "But…they didn't throw me out; they were trying to protect me…"

"Protect you from what?" He gave a cold laugh and turned away, gesturing wildly at the darkness around him. The shadows swirled, causing tiny pinpricks of light to dance against the black curtain, forming little pictures as he spoke. "From your dreams? From a life worth living? That's not protection, Jamie, that's prevention. They're afraid of you—petrified of what your light can do." A wonderful picture of Burgess appeared. The entire town stared in wonder at the sleep sand, jumped and pointed at North's sleigh, played in the snow with Jack. "You can make them see, Jamie. You can make everyone feel what you feel, know what you know." A picture of Pippa appeared and she turned to smile at him with the same childlike grin he'd always known.

Jamie took a step toward the lights, his eyes wide. He brushed his fingers through Pippa's brilliant hair, his fear melting away despite himself. Jamie's brow knit together as the starry girl blew him a kiss. "But, even if I could do that…there's a reason they have to stay hidden, right…? So people can—"

"Grow up? Get a job? Settle down?" Pitch snapped his fingers and the lights vanished. "Is that what you want? Is that what anyone wants? It's completely unnecessary, mind you. The Man in the Moon likes to keep his toys in order, a perfectly aligned clockwork system with every cog in its proper place. You see…the Guardians aren't the ones who abandoned either of us—not really. It was the Man in the Moon."

"The Man in the….?" Jamie instinctively looked up to where he thought the moon should be.

"Yes, but you look terribly uncomfortable." Pitch waved his hand and the shadows receded.

Jamie's room had vanished. He was standing in a dim cavern as large as a cathedral. He could see the remnants of bird cages dangling precariously from the ceiling. Several already lay broken on the cold stone floor. Pitch gave Jamie an appraising look.

"I'll have my servants fetch you something, you look cold as Frost." He snapped and several creatures detached from the shadows, soundlessly producing a black wool coat, socks, and fur-lined boots.

"Th-thank you." Jamie pulled on the socks and boots eagerly, his toes already numb with cold. He buttoned up the coat and took a cup of hot liquid from another black creature, staring at it for a moment. What if Pitch planned to poison him, or worse drug him….? The bitter aroma of black coffee tickled his nose, weakening his discretion. "Where are we?"

"My home, of course. Are you comfortable?"

"I guess… but, I still don't understand what you want." Jamie spun the cup in his hands, watching the steam rise off the black liquid. He would have been more comfortable in his own room with his own things, but this was much better than being trapped in shadows. "I mean…why me?"

"They didn't tell you anything, did they…?" The tall man gave Jamie a pitying look before directing his attention to a dais set away from the broken cages. Set atop the platform was a massive iron globe. Thousands of tiny lights twinkled like fireflies on the surface. Pitch led him forward, gesturing up at the lights.

"Each of these lights represents a child who believes in the Guardians. All but one…There," He pointed up at the bright light where Burgess should be. "That one is yours, Jamie. You see how bright it is?"

Jamie nodded, his eyes scanning the surface of the globe.

"You are a very special human. Your belief is so strong you can tap into power that hasn't been touched since the dark ages. You can bend the universe to your will solely with the power of your conviction. And, of course," He pointed up to a few brighter lights grouped around Jamie's. "You have the ability to make others see your beliefs."

Jamie's eyes opened wide as he stared at the little dots. "The day-care center—Megan, Lee, Mark…they all saw Jack…because of me….?" He looked uncertainly up at his host's face.

"Because of you." Pitch pulled a fleece blanket from his minions and wrapped it around Jamie's shoulders before guiding him down onto a black settee that had most certainly not been there a moment before. "Jamie, The Man in the Moon will never let you use that power. It's nothing but a wrench in his clockwork. His Guardians won't allow you to ruin his vision for humanity, but I want to give you a chance to make up your own mind." Pitch let out a deep breath and sat next to the young man. "I just want to be seen, Jamie…I'm so weary of being alone in the dark… If you prefer the safety of moonlight, I'll put you right back in that sad little room with all your toys and games. But if you desire something more, something greater than that tawdry life, I will support you where your friends would not."

Jamie gripped the warm mug, staring up at the globe with a frown on his face. Pitch…the Pitch of his nightmares was nothing like this. This sad, beaten man wasn't frightening at all. If he was telling the truth…Jamie could have all his human friends and the Guardians…it was everything he could possibly want…and if he said no? Nothing was waiting for him but an empty dormitory. He took a long sip of the coffee and sighed as the hot liquid slid down his throat. There wasn't much of a decision to be made, but it still felt like a betrayal. Jamie's heart gave a pang of regret as he remembered Jack…the shock on his face as the mug hit the wall. But, Pitch was right. No one had ever asked what he wanted…given him a chance to decide for himself…

"I…I don't want to go back." He pulled the black fleece closer around his shoulders and turned to look Pitch squarely in the eyes. "But I won't hurt my friends."

"Jamie," Pitch put a hand on the young man's shoulder. "You have my word. No harm will come to those you love."

"Ok, then." Jamie took a deep breath and held out his hand. "I'm in."

Chapter Text

"What's this about, North?" The tall rabbit leaned back on the globe's control panel, his arms crossed tight against his chest. "I still have three tunnels to dig out before Easter. I don't have time to sit around waiting for that bloody larrikin."

"Jack will be here." North set his eggnog down on the large wooden table in the center of the receiving room. "We are meeting to discuss Jamie Bennett."

"Finally…" Tooth broke off her never-ending dictation and hovered over them, gossamer wings fluttering continuously. "I've been so worried...I haven't collected wisdom teeth since 1936…"

"Jamie Bennett? The kid who saved us from being dusted?" Bunny's expression softened, his ears twitching as he frowned.

Sandman nodded emphatically, little sand pictures twisting above his spiked hair, vaguely resembling the fight with Pitch. Then, a clear picture appeared: a boy at his window, watching the sky.

"But he is no longer child. He is Luminary. We must discuss how we are handling his education." North frowned, folding his tattooed arms across his chest.

"I don't think we should leave him alone, anymore. He's so sad…The memories in those last teeth…they're…" Tooth bit her lip, her expression downcast. "He's lost so much...I wanted to call a meeting myself, but I know how crazy things get around the holidays."

"I was against this from the start." Bunny scowled. "It's our fault this kid had such a rotten lot thrown at him. The least we could do is talk to him."

North sighed and ran a hand over his beard. "I think…since I was once Luminary, Jamie should stay with me first…I still have many books that will help control power, but we should wait for—"

A bright portal opened in front of the globe. Bunny just managed to leap out of the way as Jack zipped past. The wind dropped the white-haired boy in the center of the group, his eyes shadowed with concern.

"He's gone." Jack's breath was ragged, his eyebrows knit in a solid line. "His window was open. There was snow everywhere, but his coat was still on the floor where he left it…with this in the pocket." He pulled a beaten leather wallet from his pocket and dropped it on the table. It fell open, revealing a school identification card, a few small bills, and outdated photos of his friends. "I checked everywhere I could think of…his job, the campus, his old house, the lake…" He looked up at North, dark circles under his eyes. If something happened to Jamie, it would be his fault. He'd failed his friend completely. For the first time since he'd taken his oath, he felt ashamed to call himself a Guardian…what if Jamie had been locked up? Or worse, what if he… Jack bit his lip, refusing to even consider that thought.

"Gone? What do you mean he's gone!?" Bunny demanded, turning his scowl on North and the others. "I thought you lot were keeping an eye on him!"

"That's not fair!" Tooth zipped across the table and hovered inches in front of Bunny's face her arms tense at her sides. "I've sent my fairies as often as I can and Sandy's kept watch every night for the past fourteen years!"

Sandman chimed his agreement, his thoughts exploding with pictures of shadows blotting out the moon.

"I trusted you! I don't have hoards of inconspicuous minions or a magic globe!" Bunny shouted. "I can't very well send the sentinels out to keep watch, can I!?"

"No one expects you to!" Tooth's feathers ruffled as she yelled, little baby teeth flitting about like little angry bees. "This isn't your fault, Bunny!"

"The globe….the globe!" Jack's eyes widened. The wind lifted him off the floor and swept him up around the northern hemisphere to land right over Burgess. There were many smaller lights around the town, but Jamie's blinding radiance had vanished.

"No…" Jack shook his head, his mind refusing to register the sudden darkness in the small cluster of lights. He dropped to his knees, hands shaking on his staff, eyes frantically combing the globe for his friend's light, but he knew Jamie didn't have money for a bus or a train, and he couldn't get far on foot without a coat. A numb dread filled his mind. Jamie was gone—gone—gone. A strangled moan welled up in Jack's throat as a thick layer of frost glazed across the surface of the globe, obscuring most of the United States and part of Canada. He swayed ominously, the wooden staff dropping from his fingers and ricocheting off the globe's equator as it clattered to the floor.

"Jack!" Tooth caught him just as he started to fall, her frail wings struggling under the extra weight. "Jack, snap out of it!" She set him down on one of the massive chairs and smacked his cheeks, trying to wake him.

Jack's eyes fluttered open, but he averted them from Tooth, burying his face in his palms. "I shouldn't have left…" His voice quavered at the gravity of his failure. "I shouldn't have left…"

"Oh, Jack…" Tooth's feathers seemed to wilt as she wrapped her arms around him. She stroked the boy's white hair, ignoring the chill seeping through her many layers of down.

"That's it. I'm going out to look." Bunny adjusted the belt slung across his chest, making sure his boomerang was secure. "I don't care what the globe says. Jamie's alive and I'm going to find him."

A golden exclamation point appeared over Sandman's head as he floated around the group. He gestured at the globe, still bursting with images of a boy in the window vanishing into dust.

"Bunny is right. We should start looking before it's too late." North grunted and turned to one of the yetis by the door. "Prepare the sleigh. Dingle!" Several elves jumped out from their hiding places. "Organize search party. Yetis search woods. Elves search town."

Sandman huffed and crossed his arms, little plumes of sand piping out of his ears like steam. Floating easily up on a cloud of golden sand, the little man punched the thick coating of ice—once, twice, in quick succession. Cracks appeared on the surface and a groan filled the hall as great slabs slid off the sphere and crashed to the floor. Elves and yetis scampered about in panic through a layer of frozen debris. North, Bunny, and Tooth stopped and stared up at the little man. Sandy created a replica of Jamie's light and pointed forcefully to it as a picture of a boy appeared over his head. He then crossed his arms in an X and shook his head from side to side as the boy dissolved into a tombstone.

"Jamie… not…dead?" Bunny guessed. "Jamie's not dead?"

Even Jack looked up now, a flicker of hope in his eyes. Sandy nodded emphatically, pointed to himself, then both his eyes, and finally the light.

"You saw him…?" Tooth gasped.

"Well, what happened?" North bellowed. "Where is he?"

Sandy took a long breath and made a huge replica of Jamie's window. They could see Jamie on his bed, looking out at the sky. The golden figure shivered and stepped onto the floor. Something seemed to startle him and he turned, backing toward the open window. Darkness began to eat away at the golden sand and Jamie ran toward the door. Before he could reach it, the shadow swallowed him and everything behind the window went black.

Jack stood up, eyes narrowing at the ominous display of lights. "Shadows…" He looked at Sandy. "It was shadows?"

Sandy nodded and a clock appeared over his head. 9:30—early bedtime.

Jack turned to look at North and the others. "It's not…it can't be…"

"Pitch." Bunny's eyes darkened as he scowled.

"What would Pitch want with Jamie?" Tooth asked rubbing her arms as she hovered by Jack.

"Jamie stood up to him…" North mused, crossing his arms. "He refused to stop believing and banished fear from his heart…This is what revived Sandy, and truly defeated nightmares."

The Sandman sank to the floor and nodded, showing pictures of Jamie inspiring his friends to stand before the Guardians.

"But why is his light gone?" Jack picked up his fallen staff and gestured to the globe. "What did Pitch do to him?"

North looked at Bunny as he continued. "Many centuries ago we visited Pitch's domain. The walls were filled with lead from Earth's center. This metal has never known light, so it absorbs any and all it touches. If Pitch took our friend, we wouldn't see his light."

"That door is locked up tighter than a frog's arse." Bunny frowned, polishing one of his egg grenades. "There's no way we're getting through."

"What about the entrance in the woods?" Jack asked, swinging his staff over his shoulder. "That's how Baby Tooth and I got in."

"That time you ruined Easter." Bunny chimed in, reproachfully.

"Bunny…" Tooth frowned and punched him in the arm.

"In woods?" North rubbed his chin. "Is worth try. I will send yetis to door in Bunny's tunnel. Maybe with new technology we can break through."

"Well all right, then." Bunny returned the egg grenade to its holster and stood up straight. "Let's nick off and find the little bleeder."

"To the sleigh!" North bellowed.

Chapter Text

The receiving room stood empty, fragments of ice and snow melting into the carpet as the globe continued to turn on its axis. The Guardians were gone, the yetis all hard at work in the Easter Island Tunnels. Every now and then an elf would zoom through the room in a toy car or airplane, but they couldn't see the bright light flickering to life on the very top of the globe. No one noticed the irregular shadow sliding through the latticework of light and dark, making its way to North's workshop. It slid under the large wooden door, melding into the dark interior like a drop of water.

Two figures materialized in a particularly gloomy corner of the cramped room. The faintest light flickered to life in the hands of the smaller man, his young features masked by wavering shadows. Jamie looked around at the cluttered workshop, his heart pounding with an acute sense of wrongdoing. The plastic lighter dug into his thumb as he held it up, scanning the room for—ah, there. His eyes fixed on a half melted candle as Pitch slid past, checking the lock on the door.

"You're sure they're gone…?" Jamie whispered, lighting the candle and slipping the lighter back in his pocket. The soft yellow light made the workshop look more menacing than he had pictured. A silver chainsaw sat next to a massive block of ice, surrounded by ice shavings and water damaged wood. An assortment of sinister looking tools that might have been used for welding hung over a huge anvil, which explained the massive furnace on the far wall.

"Yes—off looking for you, in fact." Several fearlings slithered through the shadows as Pitch moved to the only bookshelf in the room. "Foolish. I would never open my front door in the same place twice."

"What am I looking for, again…?" Jamie moved beside Pitch and dropped his checkered backpack onto a reading stool. There were hundreds of books, half of them in Russian, some in other unintelligible alphabets, but here and there he saw English titles shoved in among the rest: Twas the Night before Christmas, Frosty the Snowman, a dog-eared copy of Treasure Island… He ran his finger across the large tomes. As he touched one of the older books, the odd letters twisted and writhed on the spine until they formed the words The Art of Imagination: a Beginner's Guide to Belief.

"That." Pitch answered and reached out to take the book. A shock of white light repelled his long fingers as they brushed the leather. Pitch shook his hand, scowling at the offending title. "North and his little spells, but we've outsmarted him." Pitch rested his palm on the younger man's back, his scowl twisting into a crafty smile. "Go on, take it."

"I…" Jamie touched the spine, eyebrows knit together, stomach twisting in self doubt. Stealing from North…? There had to be a special place on the naughty list for boys who robbed from Santa. He flinched and drew his hand back. "I can't…it's not right…"

"North will never let you use these books." Pitch's smile softened. It was…almost fatherly. "You know that."

"That doesn't make it okay to steal them…" Jamie rubbed his palm with his thumb, staring at the book as though it might bite him.

"These are the only copies left on the planet, Jamie. There is no other way." Pitch reasoned, his voice soft and reassuring. "I promise you, once the moon's spell is broken, you can return them personally."

"I guess…if we're just borrowing them…" Jamie took the book off the shelf and turned it over, blowing a cloud of dust off the leather. "I mean…it doesn't look like he uses them…" He tucked the book in his bag and resumed his search. They found seven all together—far too many to fit in Jamie's backpack. He wrapped the books in bits of black fabric and handed each to one of the circling fearlings.

"Seven scraps of knowledge from the seas of Atlantis…" Pitch mused as his fearlings vanished into the shadows. "To think, I once stood in an archive filled with such magic…"

Jamie shouldered his bag and stared out at the dark workshop. He had dreamed of this place for so long. What he would have given to stand here with North, watching the magic behind Christmas unfold before his eyes. A cold draft made the candle flicker, its light glistening off a row of tiny ice sculptures set on a drafting table in the center of the room. Jamie smiled, picking up a small elf. The poor creature had been given tiny devil horns and a matching tail. He turned it over, admiring the familiar pattern running across the surface of the ice. Jack's calling card.

A muffled bang came from beyond the door, followed by the sound of angry voices. Jamie jumped, dropping the elf on the stone floor. He quickly blew out the candle, shoved the broken fragments under a table, and hurried to Pitch. The Boogeyman raised his arms as if to embrace the young man, shadows unfolding behind him like a massive pair of wings. In an instant, the dark pinions closed around him, spiriting the intruders back into the void.

The books were still covered with dust. They smelled of must and mildew, but their contents were absolutely mesmerizing. Tucked away in his own little nook, a host of candles bending toward the rough surface in the cave, Jamie poured over the giant tomes. Each page contained new concepts, revelations contrary to everything public education had tried to cram down his throat. Who needed laws of gravity when you could defy them with a single thought? Why bother calculating volume or weight? It was all subjective…rules made to keep humanity from dreaming. Anything was possible—anything at all, he need only believe it. Eager to find something simple to start with, Jamie pulled The Art of Imagination from his bag.

As he lifted the hefty volume, a stack of ancient paper slid from between the yellow pages. Sketches…of yetis and elves—of a wizened old man, a boy with a crystal spear, and a stout man wielding twin blades over his head. A roguish grin stretched the man's dark beard, his fur-lined coat unfurling around him in a fluid motion. Jamie touched the surface of the soft vellum, his eyes catching the inscription written in neat cursive beneath the drawing. North Defeats Bear. North…this was North? The North? That would mean Santa Claus had a past, maybe even a childhood. He just…just sort of assumed the jolly old man had sprung to life with a full white beard and a round belly. Confused and a little guilty, Jamie opened the book's cover.

The inscription took him by surprise. He flipped through the thick pages, revealing countless notes and doodles squeezed into the margins. This…this was someone's—Katherine's textbook. He compared the writing to the inscription on the drawings. It had to be her, a ghost reaching out from North's past, but…who was she—who was Ombric? He felt a nagging twinge of resentment. These people—what gave them the right to be close to the Guardians, when he had been so easily cast aside? He sifted through the remaining sketches: mechanical sentinel eggs, a great white bird, Bunnymund in a silly jacket and spectacles… memories of days he would never know. A drop of liquid fell onto the parchment, dissolving part of a grasshopper's leg. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

A fearling drifted into the light of the candles, its form wavering in the warm light. Jamie hastily wiped his eyes and gathered the pictures back in the cursed book.

The creature held its spindly arms out, presenting a plate of blackened trout, fried eggplant, and a slice of brown bread. It stood there, long shadow of a mouth opened in a vertical gap as a soft, unearthly moan echoed through the tiny outcrop that served as Jamie's personal space. It was a sad sound…almost like the creature was lamenting with him. Jamie blinked, tears still fresh in his eyes as he took the metal plate from the fragile limbs. He hadn't even known the fearlings had mouths…

"Thanks…" He forced a smile at the little monster, but it simply moaned and vanished. He sighed, a little disappointed, but there was work to be done. Somehow bolstered by the shared sorrow, Jamie opened Katherine's book and propped it up against Flight Begins with a Leap of Faith and A Practicum on Dream-Walking as he picked up the heavy fork and started in on his less than appetizing dinner.

He could do this.

Jamie wasn't sure how much time had passed in the dark cave. He ate whenever the fearlings brought him food, and slept whenever he felt tired. His cell phone was still back in his dorm room and he didn't own a watch. As much as he would like to get it, there were no outlets in the cave, so it was pointless to ask. The fearlings had gone topside to fetch a few things like toiletries, clothing, and other human necessities, but according to Pitch, the Guardians were still looking for him, so he couldn't visit himself or request anything too noticeable. That was good to know…at least he meant something to his old friends—unless they were hunting for him on the moon's orders…intent on stamping out his light before he got too powerful. But he wasn't getting very powerful. It was a constant source of frustration to him. The instructions were easy enough—there weren't even that many incantations to memorize. He kept running into a brick wall. Sixteen years of education working against him. He sat at his desk, eyes squeezed shut, hands out, lips pressed tight, willing the scrap of paper before him to lift off the desk. He could do anything—anything! So, why couldn't he lift this damn piece of paper?

"You're trying too hard." A low voice muttered from the doorway.

Jamie let out his breath in a burst and his shoulders relaxed. "I'm trying to concentrate! This isn't as easy as it looks."

"It is. You're making it difficult." Pitch held out a hand and the tiny bit of paper floated up in the air and shriveled to ashes. "Don't think about how it happens. Don't just wish the bloody thing off the table, any fool can do that. It is off the table. Clear your head and banish your doubts. Sooner or later your friends are going to break through my door. You need to be ready when they do."

"I know, I know." He sighed and tore another piece of paper off one of his notebooks. Crossing his legs on the desk chair, he tried to clear his mind—get rid of all the little nagging questions and conflicts, all the shit from school, wondering if Caleb and Claude were in Rio yet, if Jack, North and the Tooth Fairy were behind the door at the other end of the palazzo. That's what it was if you took the time to actually look at Pitch's lair—and wet, it was always wet, like there was a pipe leaking somewhere no one had bothered to fix—and this was the exact opposite of what he was supposed to be doing.

Blank…blank…like a wall…like the dark…he took a deep breath and exhaled, letting his eyelids fall. He was back in the dark, in-between world Pitch visited when traveling through shadows. There was nothing, just his body and the accursed scrap of paper. If there was nothing weighing it down, why shouldn't the paper obey him? Keeping his mind focused on the dark void, Jamie watched the paper rise up. It was easy. He opened his eyes.

"I-I did it…" A grin spread across his face as the paper hovered for a moment before fluttering back to the table. "I did it—Pitch!"

Jamie jumped up and flung his arms around the tall figure's neck.

Pitch stiffened, his wide yellow eyes staring down at the mop of brown hair brushing his chin, images flashing through his mind: a girl with dark hair…a silver locket…shadows…so many shadows…

Please, Daddy… Please, please, please open the door. I'm trapped in here with these shadows, and I'm scared…Help me, Daddy, please.

No… "Jamie, stop—STOP!" He pulled the boy off him and held him at arms length, jagged teeth bared in a pained grimace.

"Sorry…" Jamie dropped his arms to his sides, a flush creeping over his cheeks.

"You did well. Just…focus on your studies." Pitch turned to exit the small cave, leaving his ward feeling quite a bit wrong footed.

But Jamie had it, now. He practiced for hours, stopping only when he couldn't keep his eyes open. Upon waking, he would jump right back to the books, each new success bolstering his resolve. The scrap of paper stayed up for thirty seconds….two minutes….five minutes…Finally, after a particularly long nap, the paper hit the ceiling and stuck there, stark white against the glistening black rock. A childish grin stretched across the young man's face. Bennett: one, gravity: zero.

Within the next few days, he progressed to heavier objects. He didn't even have to close his eyes as a multitude of items—pens, books, pillows, rocks, even an old coffee mug floated around his bed. His heart soared.

Take that, Katherine. He glanced at one of her cheery little notes and laughed, letting himself fall back on thin air. It didn't matter; he was lighter than air. Floating off the floor he reached up and brushed the arched ceiling. Wild excitement boiled inside him, he wanted to see the world, find Jack and race him to the moon and back—but, he had to wait just a little longer.

Chapter Text

"Jamie! Jamie—man, you in there?" Claude pounded on the door to his friend's single dormitory, but there was no answer. Jamie had missed almost a week of classes, shirking off two shifts at the day-care center and their sociology midterm.

"Should we call the cops?" Monty kept his eyes averted from the door as he fidgeted with the zipper on his jacket.

"No…he's just moping." Pippa glared at the door, crossing her arms over her ample breasts. "He always does this when things don't go his way."

"You sure…? What if he's out…you know…" Monty looked to Claude and Caleb, his eyebrows creased with worry. "With all the snow, he could be stuck…or lost…"

"Monty, you know that man don't go nowhere without his phone." Claude rolled his eyes. "Try him again, Pippa."

The willowy girl pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and scrolled through her contact list, dialing Jamie's number for the hundredth time. They could all hear the muted warble of Rick Astley coming from behind the metal door.

"I swear, if we miss our flight 'cause of some passive aggressive bullshit…" Caleb rubbed his hands together. "Man, it's freezing out here! Don't they keep the heat on in this place?"

"I asked the dorm manager." Monty muttered. "He thinks the wind damaged the insulation somewhere on our floor. They're calling someone in to check tomorrow."

Jamie's voice mail clicked on. Pippa groaned and pounded on the door again. "JAMIE BENNETT! This is your last chance. We all pitched in and bought an extra ticket for you, but if you can't suck it up and get your ass out here, I will give it to someone else!"

The metal door remained motionless.

"That's it. I'm done with this crap." Pippa hung up her phone and shoved it back in her pocket. "Rachel's bags are packed and ready. I'm giving her the ticket. See you guys at seven." She turned and stalked down the hallway, the heels of her boots clacking on the utilitarian floor tiles.

Caleb's eyes followed the girl's swaying figure as she disappeared down the staircase. "You think Jamie would be mad if…you know…"

"Yeah, he'd be pissed as shit." Claude gave the door a backward glance as the group started back to their own rooms. "But you gotta do right by a girl like that, and he sho' as hell ain't." The tall black man pulled what appeared to be a hand rolled cigarette from his vest pocket as he opened his dormitory door.

Monty gave him an exasperated look. "You know I'm your RA, right."

Claude gave Monty a provoking smile and disappeared into the small room.

The short blonde rolled his eyes and kicked the closed door, his thick-rimmed glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Caleb laughed and hurried down the stairs, leaving Monty no choice but to retreat to his own room.

The entrance to Pitch's lair was gone. Jack had searched every inch of the woods and every corner of his friend's room with nothing to show for it. He had listened to the racket at Jamie's door—the constant ringing of the phone lying abandoned on his nightstand, but he couldn't help. Even if he unlocked the door and pushed it open, what would that accomplish? Jamie wasn't anywhere that could be reached by human law enforcement. It was selfish, but he couldn't let the police tell Jamie's mother and sister he was missing. Jack sat on the frozen bed and pulled a water-stained Christmas photo from the pocket of his sweatshirt—the only reward for his long search. Jamie's mother hid her fatigue behind a strained smile, her hand resting on the shoulder of her teenage daughter. Her son stood slightly apart, his hands in the pockets of his grey coat. Whatever disagreement the family might have had, Jack knew Ms. Bennett would cry if they found her son missing. He couldn't stand it. Tucking the picture away, he squeezed his eyes shut, moisture freezing on his lashes like little diamonds. He would find Jamie before they opened that door…he had to.

A rustling sound brought Jack's thoughts back to earth. His eyes snapped open as papers flew off Jamie's desk, falling to the floor like autumn leaves. Something dark disappeared behind the rolling chair. An animal…? Jack sank down onto the floor and sent a jolt of frost into the early-morning shadows. A distorted black ghost erupted from the darkness, rushing past Jack and vanishing under the bed.

"No!" Jack dove after it, his hand closing around—what? Some kind of wire? His face smacked into the base-board as something tugged at the line. Tightening his grip, he twisted the wire around his fingers, pushing against the bed with his shoulder until he had enough space to turn and brace with his feet. The muscles in his neck strained as he pulled, the cord cutting into his cold skin. There was an audible snap. Jack flew back, flipping into the cluttered desk, a small avalanche of books, papers, and empty soda cans crashing to the floor around him.

Breathing heavily, the frozen boy opened his clenched fist, revealing a thin white cord. Nothing special. He couldn't tell what device it belonged to—there were so many—little addictions that kept children indoors even on the perfect snow day. One end looked like it might fit into a computer. The other, of course, ended in nothing but frayed wire. Whatever had been attached to it, the creature had obviously wanted it very badly—but, why?

Jack looked around the room again. He had been here so many times these past few days. What was missing…? A few icicles hung from Jamie's computer monitor. There was the usual carpet of clothes on the floor, topped with the new mess of papers and books, the basket of toiletries on his dresser, and the ever present—phone. The phone was gone. It had been on the dresser just moments earlier. Jack pulled the nightstand away from the wall. The little square adapter was stuck halfway out its socket, one prong bent at a strange angle as though it had been ripped from the wall. Removing the adapter, Jack matched the remaining end of the white cord to its rectangular socket. It fit perfectly.

Why would Pitch steal Jamie's phone? Aside from the theft, there was the warped, humanoid figure itself. The vile creature had to be Pitch's minion, but it looked nothing like the nightmares they had fought previously—great black horses, born of children's unconscious fears. If he was really after revenge…Jack swallowed and twisted his fingers in the cord. He might be looking for the others: Jamie's family and friends. Could he see them now that their lights were gone? A feeling of unease settled in Jack's stomach. He walked to the window, grateful to see the sun rising over the bare trees. Most of the kids would be out of town in a few hours, wrapped in bright Brazilian sunshine. Plus, none of them could see Pitch. Hopping up on the windowsill, he breathed a sigh of relief. When it came down to it, the Nightmare King posed no threat to adults. They didn't believe in him, so they couldn't fear him. Pitch sent them nightmares, but they were just that—bad dreams.

"Come on, Monty," Caleb groaned, hefting one of Pippa's bags into the back of the airport shuttle. "We gotta go."

"I know. I know…" The blond man tossed his own bag into the vehicle and cast one last look up at Jamie's room. "Who keeps their window open in this weather?"

Caleb followed his gaze up to the fifth floor. "Dude is crazy. He's probably trying to catch fairies or something."

Monty frowned. "Are you sure we should leave him…?"

"Yes." Pippa shouldered her suede purse and slid in beside a slim girl with caramel skin—the replacement. "Screw Jamie Bennett."

Monty frowned and climbed in next to Caleb. The driver slid the shuttle doors shut behind him and hopped in the front of the cab. It hurt to hear them talk like that. He liked Jamie. Sure he was being a jerk now, but hunting for mythical creatures had been their thing. He couldn't blame the man for trying to hold onto tradition. Leaning against the chilly glass, he stared up at the lonely window. Just as the van started to move, a pale figure appeared against the black room. Monty blinked and narrowed his eyes, trying to make out Jamie's face, but…it wasn't Jamie.

"Caleb!" Monty elbowed his friend as the half-formed figure of a teenage boy jumped from Jamie's window and soared off into the early morning sky.

"Huh?" Caleb took out an ear bud and looked up from his PSP.

"N-nothing…" Monty's eyes widened and his heart jumped into his throat—a ghost? No…He rubbed his eyes, something familiar itching steadily at the back of his mind, like a forgotten dream.

"You've gone berko, mate." Bunnymund threw up his arms and gestured at the map spread on the table. "You are not bringing C-4 into my tunnels."

"Is only small explosion!" North insisted. "Prokofiev! We try hammer, blowtorch, drill—what else can we do!"

"Do you know what happens when my tunnels collapse?" Bunny narrowed his eyes and advanced on North, jabbing the old man's chest with his paw. "Earthquakes, Tsunamis, Floods—whole cities wiped off the map!"

"I'm not risking natural disasters over some twinge in your belly." The rabbit's anger seemed almost palpable, his breath clouding on the cold air like smoke from a dragon. He might look like the world's only fire-breathing leporine, but his chattering teeth betrayed his tough façade. Despite being indoors, North's workroom was kept at an ungodly 32 Fahrenheit to preserve the man's frozen archetypes. Bunny much preferred the comfortably heated receiving room, but with the yetis busy in the tunnels, the area was still soggy from Jack's tantrum on the globe. "I still say our best bet is to keep digging here." The soft pad of his paw tapped a particular spot on the map. "The alloy is slightly weaker on the east side."

"We have tried this." North frowned. "Walls are solid lead, we need explosives. Yetis will reinforce tunnel with braces. It will be—"

The heavy door swung open and Jack sidestepped into the workshop, a blissful burst of warm air following on his heels—bit ironic, that. Bunny frowned and rubbed his paws along his forelegs, trying to keep warm. "Any luck?"

Jack shook his head. "I checked every inch of the forest. The tunnel's gone, but there was something in Jamie's room—a shadow or a ghost." Ice crystals melded together above his open palm, forming a weightless creature with long spindly arms and a frozen moan. "It has to be Pitch, right?"

Bunny's stopped shivering. "You saw a fearling?"

"I guess…" The little ghost creature floated into the air, writhing like a snake. "What's a fearling?"

"A creature of pure darkness." North watched the little wraith drift over the map, his brows furrowed. "They feed on fear. As we bring hope, wonder, joy, memories, and dreams—fearlings bring horror and despair. They consume children, eating at light until nothing but fear remains."

"Pitch can't have that kind of firepower." Bunny swatted the tiny creature like a fly and a burst of snow fluttered down over the table. "I haven't seen one of those bloody monsters since we sealed the door to his hole."

"Whatever it is, I'm pretty sure it took Jamie's phone—ripped it right out of the wall." He muttered and pulled the broken cord out of his pocket. "I just managed to grab the tail end of the charger, but it put up one hell of a fight."

"Phone?" North muttered, examining the broken end. "Why would Pitch want phone…?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Jack twisted the cord in a neat loop and put it back in his pocket. "Maybe he's looking for the other kids who took him down. He can't track them on the globe now they're grown up, and they're definitely in that phone. Even if he finds them, they won't be able to see him…right?"

"In theory." North set the cable down on the table. "But with enough power and the right nightmares…"

"Shouldn't we keep watch?" Bunny crossed his forelegs against the cold. "If he's making fearlings…"

"Bunny… you should focus on tunnel." North gave him a knowing look and tapped the diagram on the table. "Jack and I will keep Jamie's friends safe. You are worrying about too much and we can't afford to lose another Easter."

"Don't tell me how to do my job." Bunny's lips twisted in a snarl. "I'm still a week ahead of schedule. The faster we get that door open and rescue the little blighter, the faster I can get my eggs together."

"Door…Eggs..." Jack mused, staring at the drawing on the table, a forgotten memory floating to the surface of his mind. He pulled the diagram closer. "I left through this door…" So much had happened in the aftermath; he barely remembered the boogieman's lair. It was like a blurred nightmare: black walls melding into green moss, littered with a broken spectrum of colored eggshells…he hadn't even realized. "Pitch can open it. He pushed me out into the tunnel."

There was a moment of complete silence as the three guardians stared down at the drawing. The wind howled and rattled the frosted windows. A distant clamor of bells echoed from somewhere deep in the workshop, happy elves still hard at work playing their mischievous games. Finally, Bunnymund looked up and swallowed. "This is bad. If the seal is broken…those nightmares were only the beginning."

"But you beat Pitch before, right?" Jack's fingers tightened around his staff, gaze drifting to the floor as his bare toes curled on the stone. "At the end of the dark ages?"

"We thought we did…We had five ancient relics from the Tsar Lunar's Golden Age—not to mention twice as many Guardians. " Bunny explained. "But the relics are gone. The last of their power was used to lock Pitch away, and if he's controlling the seal…"

"This explains why Man in Moon has difficulty hearing us." North frowned at his crossed arms. "His connection with Earth is very weak."

"Too right." Bunny huffed. "I've called twice a year about global warming since 1983, but he never answers."

"I tried to get his attention for three hundred years." Jack gave the rabbit a sardonic smile. "I think I win."

"I'm serious." Bunny rolled his eyes and crossed his forelegs over his chest. "We need to talk to Manny. We don't stand a chance against an army of fearlings—not without the relics."

"I will make preparations to call Man in Moon." North squared his shoulders and clapped Jack on the back. "Don't worry, my friend. We won't let boogieman win. You have my word."

The frost spirit stumbled under the well meaning but forceful gesture, knocking into the edge of a table. "Thanks…" Swallowing his insecurities, Jack let out a long breath of air and stared down at the floor. They would find Jamie. He would be fine. Everything would be fine…

"Leave the tunnel to me." Bunny's mouth was set in a determined line. "I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve."

"I will send down C-4 with elves." North laughed as he pulled a table aside, exposing a rarely used closet door.

"NO—No explosives!" The rabbit left the workshop and slammed the door, underlining the imperative.

"It was joke." North chuckled and took an ornate key from his belt, walking around the table toward the newly exposed door.

"Hang on." Jack stepped in front of the large man. "There's something under the table." Dropping down on his heels, he reached under the piece of furniture, sweeping out what appeared to be fragments of ice—no, it was the elf…the same one he'd touched the last time he was at the Pole, but it was smashed to bits. Gathering the fragments on his palm, Jack stood up and looked at North.

"Ah…there he is." The large man eyed the broken elf, studying the frost pattern and little devil horns before giving Jack a disapproving look "I don't think elves appreciated your modifications, Jack."

"I guess not…" Jack smiled and knit the little elf back together in his hand, setting it back on the table with the other statues.

"Is strange I didn't notice it break." North turned the key in the door's lock and pulled it open, revealing a cramped storage room. "Door is always locked when I'm not in workshop." North stepped into the large storage room, moving around many ancient looking artifacts and items.

"What's in here….?" The teenage boy peeked in the door, catching sight of a few small mechanical eggs and other machinery. His eye caught on a massive clock set back against the rock face. It had to be at least three stories tall, silver gears turning with smooth ticks as ornate hands moved across the clock's complicated face. There were carvings, ornaments, winged statues, a great silver saddle, and a vast array of paintings.

"Memories of another age." North answered with a grunt as he dragged a large, circular object from between two paintings. "This is all that remains of Lunar Lamadary, home to ancient race of holy men who once lived deep in Himalayas. They fled to moon after Lamadary was destroyed in battle. There are also remnants from my village, Santoff Claussen. When fear disappeared from the world, it became much smaller. Village was no longer safe…"

"That's why you moved to the North Pole?" Jack guessed as he helped the old man roll the huge disk out into the workshop.

"Yes." North rested their burden against the wall and wiped the sweat from his brow. "My friends left to practice new sciences, but their stories and songs immortalized the hero of Santoff Claussen…" He gave a weak smile, rubbing large fingers over his bearded chin. "The man who lives in cold with elves and yetis, delivering wondrous gifts to children of the world."

Jack's heart gave a slight twinge. He'd always looked up to—almost envied the Guardians, but the empty look in North's eyes…he'd seen that look in his own reflection more times than he could count. "Hey, cheer up, old man. You're not alone, okay?" He knocked his fist against the man's massive arm in a rather awkward gesture. He still wasn't used to this, having people to talk to…friends who needed him.

"Thank you, Jack." North smiled. "We should call yetis to move gong up to—"

The door banged open and a yeti thundered into the workshop, grunting urgently as he gestured out toward the center of the workshop.

"On the globe?" North gripped Jack's shoulder. "You are sure?"

The yeti nodded and grumbled in assent, making a circular motion with his arms.

The two remaining Guardians rushed out of the workshop and into the atrium. The globe sat roughly two floors below them, turning slowly on a massive spire running through the center of North's fortress. Jack jumped onto the railing as the yeti leaned over, pointing at one of the lights. It was small, flickering like a candle deprived of oxygen, but it was bright white. The same white as—

"Jamie…?" Jack breathed the name, barely daring to hope. The speck of light was moving slowly, crossing the border to Mexico. Jack extended his palm in a straight line, tracing the light's trajectory. If it stayed on course, it would reach— "No, it's one of his friends. They're on a flight to Brazil."

"We must hurry. Pitch may already know." North leaned back into his workshop and pulled a red backpack off a hook on the wall. "Here." He passed it to the yeti. "Go with Jack. Make sure Jamie's friends stay safe."

"You're not coming…?" Jack leaned on his staff as he dropped down off the railing. "Rio's kind of…warm. I'm not good with warm."

"I know, Jack. I'm sorry, but Desyatnikov, we are stretched thin. Bunny is working on tunnel, Tooth and Sandy can't neglect work very long, and I must make preparations to call Man in Moon—you are only one who can leave immediately. You will be alright?"

"I…I think so…I cross that area briefly on my way to the southern hemisphere. The trade winds have it out for me, but I don't think I'll melt or anything."

"I will tell the others to hurry. If you are in danger, use snow globe to come back."

Jack gave the yeti an uncertain glance. "You okay with that…?"

The furry beast grunted and slung the long straps of the comparatively tiny backpack over his shoulder, a snow globe ready in his hand. Jack winced and braced himself for a thaw.

Chapter Text

Pitch watched from the shadows, irritated by the boy’s limitations. The human mind was so weak—irrevocably inferior. It was frustrating to see him struggle like a drooling toddler when a single touch could banish that weakness forever, stain his soul black, fill him with the unlimited potential of the void.  Then he would be a prince fit to serve the Nightmare King—but it was too soon. Jamie Bennett was an integral part in the path to restoration. Pitch needed light to wake the darkness, a spark to ignite the primordial fire.

Still, it was hard to keep the night from swallowing his charge. The young luminary was so open to corruption, his unconscious fears exposing the delicate corners of his mind. Barely a week had passed and he was already learning to communicate with the fearlings, sending them on errands and requesting food and supplies. A flock of the shadow-like creatures trailed behind the boy as he scaled the labyrinthine corridors of the underground kingdom, exploring his new home. A wavering ball of blue light hovered over his head, casting an eerie glow on the stone walls. By human standards, he supposed the boy was advancing quite rapidly, but the noise on the other side of the door was becoming disconcertingly loud. The rabbit must have found a way to break the seal. No matter. Pitch’s eyes glinted in the dark, a sinister smile creeping across his narrow face. Let them struggle. Soon the Man in the Moon and his Guardians would be nothing but a memory. This fetid world was ripe for a new dark age, and he was ready to deliver.

Jamie slid down onto a ledge overlooking the entrance hall. The haphazard mass of turrets twisted ever upward into the blackness like an impossible Escher painting. Most of the rooms were bare and lifeless, but every once in awhile he would stumble across a perfect replica of a child’s bedroom. The stone mimicked furniture and fixings, right down to the little stone ruffles on a canopy bed. He had found four so far. It felt strange, like walking through a mausoleum.

One of the fearlings wrapped around his shoulders, uttering a quiet moan. “Yeah…I’m a little hungry.” As soon as he spoke, another emerged from a shadow with a plate of food. He didn’t bother to question where the meals came from or how they were prepared. For all he knew there was a kitchen somewhere in this nonsense. Cutting into the steak and kidney pie, he leaned back against the tower wall and gazed up at the endless black. He missed his friends…his family. No doubt Caleb and Claude were stretched out on a beach somewhere, surrounded by a rainbow of bikinis. Monty would be in the bar or on his computer like always, and Pippa…Pippa would be caught in the glow of a summer sunset, her auburn hair twisting in the ocean breeze. He would fly over and lift her away, pulling her into the sky on wings of imagination.

A loud moan shattered Jamie’s private daydream as a black mass emerged from a shadow beside him. Blue sparks crackled through the darkness as it twisted back into the vaguely humanoid contour of a fearling—was it injured?

As it struggled to free itself, Jamie noticed the object caught in the creature’s translucent grip and frowned.

“I told you to unplug it…” He sighed, carefully prying the phone from the creature’s grip. The charger was still attached to its base and for all he knew plugged into the outlet next to his bed. Jamie knew he was pushing the line. The Guardians might not notice it was missing, but his mother would. The iPhone, a secondhand gift from Monty’s last upgrade, was several years behind the latest model, but the monthly bill was still almost as expensive as his university meal plan. Jamie hated asking his mother for money; it made him feel constrained and dependent, but he couldn’t pay the bill on his own and going without a phone would make him even more of an outcast. But that didn’t matter, anymore. He should be able to make the phone work without his mother’s support.

The fearling made a sad little moan and sunk into itself like a turtle retracting into its shell. The sound prickled in Jamie’s ear, transmitting a vaguely worded warning.

 “What do you mean you were seen? Who saw—WOAH!!” Something yanked hard on the other end of the cord and suddenly Jamie was pulled shoulder deep into the shadow. If he hadn’t braced himself on instinct, he probably would have fallen through completely. Shocked to find his nose inches from what should have been solid rock, Jamie barely felt the crack as his knuckles smashed into something on the other side. A dull ache pulsed up his arm and the phone slipped out of his numb fingers. He swore. There was no time to think—no time to panic. If he didn’t act now, it would be gone and he might never get another chance to retrieve it. Sucking in a deep breath, he lunged forward into the dark portal, the surface of the shadow prickling against his cheeks like a splash of cold water. Stretching forward, Jamie was relived to feel his fingers close around the charger cable.  Judging by the dust bunnies and discarded socks, he was currently swimming in the shadows under his dormitory bed. He was in his room…if he just climbed out would everything would go back to normal? The thought was terrifying, yet strangely uplifting. Jamie wasn’t ready to leave, but it was nice to know he could. Pitch had left the choice up to him.

The young luminary tightened his grip on the wire and pulled as hard as he could. He could feel his knees digging into the rock on the other side, his muscles screaming in protest as he pulled himself out of the shadow inch by inch. The fearlings swirled around him like frantic goldfish, spectral arms tugging weakly at his coat. Jamie closed his eyes and took a deep breath, banishing all doubts from his mind. The phone and its charger were both used—easily broken. In his mind he saw the copper wire fraying strand by strand as the plastic casing peeled away. Ignoring the pain in his fingers, he put all of his weight into one last tug and the cord snapped.

Jamie flew backward and suddenly the ledge was gone. He was falling—No. The young luminary mentally admonished himself. That was stupid. He stopped himself in midair, hovering in the darkness. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he looked down, grateful to see his phone still hanging from the severed cable. Jamie removed the useless charger and tossed it away as he came to rest on a black railing, looking around for the ball of light he’d conjured earlier. It was gone, but Jamie didn’t really mind; he could see well enough without it. The railing surrounded a circular balcony, overlooking the yellow glow of the dais several stories below.  A life-size statue of a girl stood a few feet to his left, arms resting gracefully on the railing like a princess looking down on her kingdom, her long hair caught in a non-existent breeze. Jamie spared the statue a cursory glance, but he had enough to worry about without adding Pitch’s bizarre taste in sculpture to the list. He sat, feet dangling over the precipice, gazing down at the globe—a tiny star burning bright against the surrounding darkness.

Jamie shifted his eyes to the phone. The fearling had been seen…Someone was still watching his room. His throat tightened and he felt a guilty pang in his chest. If he had jumped through that shadow, who would have been on the other side? He pressed the home button and slid his thumb across the lock screen, bringing up a list of missed calls and messages. He dialed voice mail and held the phone to his ear, prepared for the worst.

 “Hey Jamie! It’s Sophie. Mom wants to know if you’re coming home over break.  She’s being kind of paranoid about Easter again, but I got your basket out of the garage, anyway.  Give me a call soon, okay?”

—click—

 “Jamie, this is Allison. I don’t know why you ran off last week, but I’m really worried about you. Are you coming in today? Rachel’s covering for you, but she has to leave by seven. The kids keep asking about you. I hope you’re well.”

—click—

 “Jamie, I talked to the guys and I think we got you a ticket. Just promise me you’ll buy your own pina coladas, okay? Pack your swim trunks, we’re going to Rio!”

—click—

 “So, I guess that’s a no on coming home. If the Easter Bunny leaves you chocolate, I’m going to eat it all.”

—click—

“Where the hell are you, Bennett? I can’t believe you blew off the sociology midterm. I tried to cover for you, but unless you have the plague, you’re fucking screwed.”

—click—

“It’s Allison, again. Jamie, are you alright? You’ve missed three shifts now and I…I’m really starting to think—I know I’m probably overreacting, but this is so unlike you. If I don’t hear from you by seven, I’m going to call your emergency contact.”

—click—

“JAMIE BENNETT!! This is your last chance. We all pitched in and bought an extra ticket for you, but if you can’t suck it up and get your ass out here, I will give it to someone else!”

—click—

 “Jamie, it’s your mother. I got a call from your boss this morning. She says you’ve been missing your shifts. I know you ignore my calls, but I can’t reach any of your friends and I’m really starting to worry. Please don’t do this to me, sweetheart; I love you and I need to know you’re safe.” She paused for a moment and Jamie could hear her draw a deep breath. “I’m going to stop by the dorm after I pick up Sophie from practice. Please be there.”

—click—

“Hey, Jamie, it’s Monty. I know you’re mad about Rio, but…I really need to talk to you. I saw…” He broke off midsentence as though choosing his words very carefully. “You remember that game we used to play when we were kids—the weird one with Santa and the Easter Bunny? Wasn’t there one character that didn’t really fit…Jack Frost, right? You always seemed so sure about that stuff. I just…I want you to remind me what he looks like.”

“Hey, the taxi’s here.” A muted voice called from a distance.

“Be right there!!—I know it sounds dumb, but it’s important. Call me. I mean it.”

—click—

Jamie stared down at the phone, guilt twisting in his stomach. He didn’t care about midterms, but Allison had waited alone through all those shifts...and even though he didn’t want to accept charity from his friends, their efforts to include him were surprising…even Pippa…He bit his lip, trying not to read too much into the voice mail.

Mom…had she been to his dorm already? Would she report him missing? Jamie had trouble communicating with his mother for the same reasons he had trouble dating. She was too close. She could tell he was hiding something, knew he was unhappy, but didn’t understand why he wouldn’t—couldn’t talk to her. Ms. Bennett had been the first to question his belief in the Guardians, the first to betray his trust. She had pulled him to countless therapy sessions, forcing him to lie. Eventually Jamie accepted that no one would understand. If he wanted to survive, he would have to hide his heart from the world. He couldn’t go back to therapy—listening to the never-ending scratch of pen on paper, staring aimlessly at the dusty coffee table, searching for the right words to placate the stranger silently judging his sanity. Hundreds of wasted hours finally got her the answer she wanted. Clearly the boy is compensating for lack of a proper father figure. Jamie clenched his teeth at the memory. Surely that had prompted the sudden flurry of dating—a colorful montage of men parading through their lives, preening their suits and chortling amicably, as though trying to conduct some ancient mating ritual. Some stayed longer than others; some never made it through the door. None of them were Dad.

Holidays became strained and terse. Mom tried to ignore Christmas and Easter for several years, but the gifts came anyway, tucked by the chimney or at the foot of their beds. Each time she accused Jamie of wasting his hard earned money, convinced he had somehow managed to purchase all of the gifts. Ms. Bennett begrudgingly allowed the holiday cheer, but the strain between mother and son remained. He knew she blamed herself for his shortcomings, but no matter what she thought of him, it wasn’t fair to deny Sophie her childhood. Eventually, Jamie did start buying gifts—for the Guardians. Sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night to set out carrots or milk and cookies became a sibling tradition. In the morning the snacks would be gone in exchange for baskets overflowing with sweets or a small pile of Christmas gifts. Obviously Sophie had continued their tradition, but she was in high school now…how much longer would it last?

Speaking of memory loss…Jamie frowned as he recalled the last message. Why was Monty suddenly asking about Jack…? He hopped down off the railing, staring at the phone’s illuminated screen as he left the statue, shuffling across the balcony and through an ornate archway. The message was almost heartening. Monty may have written their adventures off as a game, but at least he cared enough to remember them.

Looking up from his contact list, Jamie blinked and shook his head, taken aback by the sudden change in scenery. For a moment he though he must have left the maze completely. But, no…It was another black bedroom, cold and empty like the others, but this one seemed different—almost real. A large bed seemed to have grown out of the floor, framed on either side by lush bouquets of stone flowers, replicated in excruciating detail—right down to the delicate patterns on their leaves. A circle of moons ringed the perimeter of a stone carpet, each capturing a day in the lunar cycle. Dim light filtered through the entryway, translucent stone curtains billowing inward as though frozen in a non-existent breeze. Jamie’s heart gave an uneasy twist as he saw the female statue silhouetted between the curtains. This was her room. There were signs everywhere: a hairbrush resting at an odd angle on the nightstand, misplaced toys strewn on the floor, an overturned stuffed animal poised to fall off the bed, and an open photo album sitting open on an otherwise neatly kept desk. Jamie took a step back, his breath catching in his throat. The entire room seemed to resonate with a terrible, crushing sadness. Whoever the girl was, this room was more than just a memory…it was a shrine—a frozen lamentation. Why would Pitch—

Jamie jumped, spotting a figure in the corner of his eye. He spun around, half expecting to see the boogeyman emerging from the shadows. Instead, he found himself staring at his own reflection. It was a mirror—just a stupid mirror. The young luminary seemed to deflate, expelling the anxious breath from his lungs as he dropped onto the stone stool set in front of the vanity. He should go. It was hard to explain, but he really didn’t want to be found here. Pitch hadn’t given him any limitations, but being in this room felt like an intrusion on something private. Even the fearlings had abandoned him to hover outside the room. Rubbing his hands over his face, Jamie stared into the mirror, barely recognizing the sallow face that met his eye. He looked awful: unkempt hair, hollowed cheeks, sallow skin, dark circles under his eyes. He frowned and ran a hand over his chin. When had he last shaved? It must have been days, but he barely had a trace of stubble. Strange…Despite the attentiveness of his mentor’s servants, he appeared to have lost weight, as well. Jamie rubbed his face and stared blearily at the replicated clutter. What was he doing…he should be in Rio, basking in the sunlight—not poking around the boogieman’s lair. He should just call Monty…it wouldn’t accomplish anything, but it might make him feel better.

Jamie’s started to reach for his phone, but stopped as he caught a metallic glint in the mundane clutter. It came from a tiny black box tucked beside a crumpled scarf—inconspicuous, yet completely different. The box wasn’t connected to the vanity surface. It wasn’t part of the room—part of the memory. Ornate latticework ran across the polished onyx, giving him a glimpse of something silver—maybe jewelry? Jamie barely questioned the impulse as he reached out to open the lid.

A shock ran through his arm and the room was gone. He was gone. There was nothing but darkness…sadness…loneliness…

A child’s laughter cut through the void, twisting into Jamie’s heart like a knife. Pain. So much pain. Blinding light split the darkness like a flash bomb and Jamie actually screamed, raising both hands to shield his burning eyes. Hot, dry air caught in his throat and he coughed, gasping for breath. The heat seemed like fire against his skin and for one crazy moment Jamie thought he must have stepped into a massive oven. But as he peered through his arms, he knew it had to be daylight—the sun. There was a rustle of cloth and a warm breeze tickled his exposed skin. Birds chattered somewhere outside, mixing with the gentle melody of a wind chime. Blinking rapidly, he took a step forward, eyes struggling to adjust to the light. He hadn’t moved—not really. It was the same room, but…it wasn’t. It felt like an inverted photograph—black walls replaced by opalescent white. The canopy bed was covered in a silver duvet, the stuffed rabbit lay on the floor, and the open photo album was filled with smiling faces. This was—

“Daddy?” A soft voice called from the balcony. There she was—the girl. She was young, maybe twelve or thirteen, her flowing gown embroidered with precious stones. Delicate braids pulled her hair away from her face, leaving it free to ripple over her shoulders in glossy waves. Jamie took a step back, scrambling to come up with an excuse for being in a young girl’s bedroom—especially since he looked like an emaciated serial killer. But, to his surprise, the girl flashed him a brilliant smile as she ran toward him.

“Woah, I’m not—” Jamie’s protest died in a startled cry as a tall man walked right through him, hands outstretched to embrace the child. Jamie staggered back, brows knotted in confusion. Crossing his arms, he chaffed his palms along them as though warding off a chill. This wasn't real...it had to be some kind of vision—a memory?

 “Daddy!” The girl exclaimed as she threw her arms around her father. “Daddy, you’re back!”

The man laughed, sweeping her into the air and spinning around as he caught her in a tight hug. “I missed you, too, princess.” He planted a kiss on his daughter’s cheek and set her down, arms resting on her shoulders. The man was obviously some kind of soldier. He wore a high collared military coat with a short cape pinned back over his shoulder and a sword strapped to his belt.

Jamie's eyes widened, his arms stiff against his chest as he retreated back against the wall. He knew this man—recognized the proud nose sloping down from an impossibly high nasal bridge. How often had he seen that face staring from the shadows, thin lips curled in a cold, calculating smile. But there was no trace of that darkness in the man before him. The look of devotion on Pitch's face was honest, almost sweet. It stung Jamie’s heart.

The Nightmare King buried his face in his daughter’s hair and held her tightly.

“I’m home…” He took a deep breath and paused. “I’m home.”

“Was it bad…?” The girl asked with some trepidation, her small hands wound tightly around her father’s neck.

Something like pain flashed across Pitch’s face, but he quickly regained his composure. “Yes…” Pitch set the girl down and guided her hands away from his neck. “But war is always bad…”

She frowned and looked down at her feet, her expression sullen. “I wish I could help you fight...I’d be brave enough.”

Pitch smiled, lifting her chin gently as he tucked her hair back over her shoulder. “If it were a question of bravery, I'm sure the Dream Pirates wouldn't stand a chance against your wild heart, but I've seen them twist even the bravest soldiers. They...if they ever.....” Pitch's voice wavered and he stopped, breathing deeply as though trying to banish that thought from his mind. “You and your mother are my guiding stars. As long as I know you're safe, I will always find a way home—that's why I need you here, Emily Jane. Do you understand?”

She met his eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but a knock on the door cut her short. A stout guard entered the room, chest heaving beneath his silver breastplate as he gasped for breath.

“L-Lord Pitchiner!” The guard snapped to attention, arm lifted across his chest in a salute. “Sir, we've had an urgent report from an outpost on Orion's sword. A sizable armada of pirates has engaged our outer defenses. They must have followed us from Cassiopeia, but—”

“Call the captains back to their ships.” Pitch rose from the bed as he cut the man off. Jamie thought he caught a note of fear in the order. “Prepare for imminent departure. I won't stand for this; not here—not ever.”

“Yes, sir!” The guard departed, leaving Pitch alone with his daughter once more.

“Daddy...?” Emily Jane bit her lip, brows taught with worry.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. I have to go—be safe and mind your mother.” He gave her a tight hug and tried to pull away, but his daughter held tight to his jacket.

“Wait...” She pulled something from her pocket and held it out to him. Pitch lifted a delicate silver locket from her palm, blinking several times as he opened the little oval. His lips twitched in a smile, but his eyes were moist with tears. “I meant to wrap it, but you should take it with you—to help you remember me if you get lost.”

“Thank you.” His voice wavered as he fastened the chain about his neck and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I'll be back soon.”

“Promise?” She wrapped her arms around his neck, as though threatening to lock herself there if he refused.

“On my soul.”

Jamie heard the promise echo as the room began to fade. He blinked, spots whirling before his eyes, his head spinning with afterimages like he'd been caught in a massive camera flash. When his vision finally cleared, he was back in the frozen room, staring down at a simple, silver locket. It sat on a black velvet cushion inside the little box like the world’s most precious treasure—a piece of moonlight caught in the dead of night. He couldn't think—couldn't breathe. Pitch...

Fingers trembling, he pried the locket open and there she was. Emily Jane. The Nightmare King's daughter. Heart jumping in his throat he snapped the locket shut and returned it and the box to their rightful place on the vanity. He stood up, twisting his fingers in his hair as he paced the length of the room. This was...how was he supposed to feel about this...? Emotions roiled in his chest, forming a knot so tight he could barely breathe past it. Jamie swore, pounding his fist against the doorframe as he glared out at the balcony, his shadowed eyes reflecting the dim gold of the dais. The flock of fearlings gathered behind him as he strode across to the railing and jumped without a second thought, taking the last six or seven stories at a brisk glide. He needed to go. Now.

Jamie reached into his pocket and took a deep breath, clutching his phone as he walked to his room, the knot in his chest pushing him forward. Candles flared to life as he entered the small enclave, a forest of wavering shadows creeping over the stone walls. Pulling his backpack from the side of his bed, he crammed it with random necessities. He was about to zip it shut, but reconsidered, adding Katherine’s book. It wasn’t proof—not really. But it certainly had more information than he could have imagined as a child.

It took him awhile to find a shadow that felt right: a tall slice of darkness cast by a crumbling pillar. Jamie stood before it, clenching and unclenching his fingers as he tried to steel his nerve. The flock of fearlings had largely dispersed now that he was back on the ground, leaving only a handful twisting in and out of the shadows as though beckoning him to follow.

“I take it you're planning to leave?”

Jamie started and spun on his heel, wincing as his elbow hit the pillar. Pitch stood in front of the dais, soft light accenting the sharp lines of his silhouette like a dim halo. Taking a deep breath, Jamie wrenched his eyes away and forced his mouth to move. “I need some air.”

“Very well.” Pitch paused, giving him a searching look. “Is this about the locket?”

Jamie froze, shoulders tensing as a jolt of guilty panic punched through his chest. He took a shaky breath and looked up, a half-formed apology caught on the tip of his tongue.

Pitch raised a hand, his expression softening as he gave the young man a knowing look. “I'm not cross with you, Jamie.” He made a liquid gesture and the black box materialized on his fingertips. “I keep no secrets here. This trinket is simply a different kind of shadow—a relic of a time long past. It holds no meaning for me.”

“What happened to her?” Jamie hesitated, still finding it difficult to meet the man’s gaze. “The girl—your daughter.”

“That's not important...” Pitch rested a palm on his charge’s shoulder. “You need only know that she is gone. Dead and forever changed like the father who raised her.”

“That's not fair!” Tears welled in Jamie's eyes as he pushed Pitch's hand away. “She loved you! She needed you!”

“She did.” He sighed, looking down at the small box. “She loved me and trusted me and I failed her in every way imaginable.” Pitch opened the box and stared at the silver locket, a ghost of kindness warming his cold features. “I have no right to this memory...but I can't bring myself to destroy it.”

Blinking back tears, Jamie fixed his eyes on the ceiling. He hesitated a moment, then reached out to take Pitch's hand. The boogeyman's skin felt rough and cold, like he was just another stone shadow growing in the lonely prison of his mind. The unfiltered knot of emotions seemed to grow in Jamie's chest, crushing his heart and lungs. He swallowed.

I'll be back soon.

He saw the door close. Heard the start of an engine.

Gone. Gone forever.

Tears ran down his cheeks and he blinked in surprise, bringing his sleeve up to banish the moisture from his cheeks. Fuck. Jamie bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, ashamed of his own weakness.

“Go.” Pitch lifted his hand and squeezed it gently. “My fearlings will guide you through the shadows.”

Something cold pressed against his palm as the Nightmare King pulled away. Looking down, Jamie immediately turned to protest, but Pitch was gone, leaving the silver locket shining gold in the globe's light—a tangible reminder that real fear had little to do with the dark of the night and everything to do with those last words, echoing endlessly in the hearts they left behind.

Pitch frowned, rubbing his thumb up and down the palm of his hand. The boy’s touch lingered on his skin like the ghost of a severed limb. It was all a bit unexpected, though not entirely unfortunate. He had nearly forgotten the locket and it certainly wouldn’t do for the Guardians to find it again. It wasn’t a threat. He was long past that, but he didn’t like the idea of losing it. Especially to her.

Looking down, Pitch watched the fearlings follow his charge into the pillar’s tall shadow. What were a few tears?  Some wasted sympathy? If anything, it proved the boy trusted him enough to open his heart. He smiled.

You’re mine, Jamie Bennett.

You can stray as far as you like, but you can never leave.

Chapter Text

Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Sophie studied the hypnotic pulse as it swept through the frosted windows, washing over the group of uniformed officers. They were grouped together, just inside the dormitory's double doors, their haggard expressions accentuated by the contrasting hues. Sophie tried to focus on deconstructing the colors, mentally tracing the contours as she imagined painting the faint glow surrounding the shadowed figures—something, anything to distract her from the gaping void in her heart. She could hear garbled radio calls mixing with the muted rumble of conversation, barely obscuring the sound of a woman's low sobs. Sophie pulled her knees to her chest, huddling in the corner next to the Calvert Hall reception desk. Warm. Cold. Red. Blue. A hint of grey, and dark maroon. The tile floor was cold and hard, but she could barely feel it. She couldn't feel anything. Shrinking even lower, she buried her face in the trim of her hooded parka.

Jamie was gone—had been gone for weeks and she couldn't help but blame herself. Those unanswered calls...she was supposed to notice stuff like that. She knew her brother—knew when he needed help, but the warning had just slipped by, buried in a haze of meaningless teen drama. The failure felt like a lead weight, sinking in the pit of her stomach. She thought of Jamie's room...the sharp rush of cold as they'd forced the door open, revealing what might have been a post-apocalyptic ruin: heaps of snow forming a solid blanket over scattered papers, discarded clothes, upturned books, toppled trinkets, and torn posters. Sophie had been to her brother's dorm on several occasions, mostly to kick him out of bed after the breakup. She recognized his possessions: his computer, his photos, little mementos from home, familiar objects that made it impossible to ignore the gravity pressing down on her shoulders. Gone. He was gone—or worse…

A numb haze flooded her mind, distorting the thought and shielding her from its jagged thorns. This was a useful state of mind, but it affected Sophie's perception of time. She vaguely remembered the dormitory manager holding them back as he dialed 911, but after that, everything seemed to meld together, dripping and distorting like the gentle madness of a surrealist painting. The police searched the dorm, taking statements from the residents who had stayed over break. Most were still hovering in the lobby, their whispered speculations echoing off the painted concrete like a savage undertone. Jamie was gone. There was no body. He had left almost everything: keys, wallet, coat, shoes—all behind a locked door. That, of course, only left the open window.

The only substantial thing missing was his phone. Sophie compulsively pulled an outdated flip phone from her bag and dialed him again, listening to a half-hearted greeting as the call went to voice mail. She folded her arms around her knees and hugged them tight against her chest, trying to bury her fear in a sea of white noise.

"We cleared the snow from around the window, ma'am." A tall officer said, tapping white powder from his shoes as he pushed the glass door open. "I don't see any signs of a jump, but the ground's frozen solid. The captain's checking with the hospital in just in case."

"I just..." Ms. Bennett looked up from her seat by the window, red eyes barely focusing on the man. "I don't..." She choked on sob and brought a hand to cover her mouth, her whole body shaking as she tried to suppress her tears.

The officer pulled a pack of tissues from his breast pocket and handed them to her. "Honestly, Ms. Bennett...you should take your daughter home and get some rest. There's not much you can do here. If your boy's got his phone on him, he shouldn't be too hard to find."

Her mother exhaled in staccato, chin-length hair falling over her face as she clutched the tissues, her shoulders hunched and shaking. It was unsettling. Sophie expected her mother to be stubborn, overbearing, even self-righteous, but seeing her broken and grieving…It made the whole world seem a little darker.

With a deep steadying breath, Sophie dropped the phone back in her bag, pushed herself off the floor, and shuffled over to the window, sliding an arm around her mother's shoulder. "He's right, Mom... Let's go home. I'll try Monty again, okay?"

Jamie didn't have a credit card, so it was possible he'd just left Monty's account registered on his iPhone. She knew he wouldn't buy anything. He hated handouts. Heck, she did, too. It was kind of humiliating when your friends had to spot you cash for a ten dollar movie ticket. But if Monty's account was still active, there was a chance they could log into his iCloud and bypass all the bullshit the police would have to go through to access Jamie's GPS signal.

"I'll bring the squad car round." The officer gave her shoulder a pat and slid a set of keys from his belt. "Can't let you ladies drive in this mess." He added and disappeared through the double doors.

"We'll find him, Mom." Sophie promised, but Ms. Bennett barely seemed to hear.

It started snowing again as the cruiser pulled onto the highway. By the time they turned onto Crescent, they were driving through a wall of white. Under different circumstances, Sophie would be overjoyed. There was something seductive about snow this close to Easter. White blankets enveloped the first signs of spring like a winter lullaby, coaxing Mother Nature back under the covers for an extra few minutes of rest. For a moment—just a moment—the earth stood still, giving humanity a teasing glimpse of eternity. Any other day she would be itching for a fresh canvas, barely minding the cold as she let her hands move to the rhythm of shifting hues. Today she felt she'd rather die than pick up a brush.

The car stopped at the turnoff to their cul-de-sac. It had been plowed that morning, but thanks to the blizzard it was once again impassable. "I think that's the best I can do, ladies." The officer said. He must have given them his name at some point, but Sophie honestly couldn't remember. Putting the car in park, the tall man hopped out and opened the rear door, whistling as it scraped the wall of frozen slush bordering either side of plowed track. "This snow's really something, huh? I can't remember the last time we got this much so late in the season."

There was a pause, and Sophie muttered a flat, "Yeah, sure," when she realized her mother wasn't paying attention to the small talk. Ms. Bennett's eyes were glazed and distant as she stared at the box of things she'd taken from Jamie's room. It wasn't much. Most of the books and papers were beyond saving, but she had taken his wallet, keys, a few photographs, and the bunny. Jamie's bunny. Sophie hadn't seen it for years, but she wasn't surprised he'd kept it. Her brother was good at hiding things. "Thanks for the ride, officer…"

"Harris." He smiled and passed her a card. "We'll be sure to call if we hear anything about your brother. Keep warm and stay safe."

Sophie nodded, hoisting the box onto her hip as she helped her mother out of the car and started the long trek through the snow. By the time they reached the house, her feet were numb. She stomped on the front porch, brushing clumps of snow from the hem of her skirt.

Ms. Bennett was near catatonic. She sat on the foyer stairs, staring blankly at her knees, the cordless phone sitting expectantly in her lap. Sophie brought her a cup of coffee spiked with a generous helping of whiskey, but the woman barely registered the gesture. Was this how it had been with dad? Sophie wondered as she stirred a few marshmallows into her cocoa.

Her mother wouldn't talk about the accident, but Sophie had worked out most of the details on her own. Mr. Bennett had gone out for milk and diapers a few weeks before her first birthday and he just…never came home. By the time the police started looking, it was too late. They found his truck wrapped around a tree on the side of the interstate, his lifeless body tangled in the underbrush several yards from the cab, grocery list still tucked in his coat pocket. The insurance company had done a thorough investigation, but the cause was never confirmed. Everyone just assumed the truck had slid on a patch of black ice.

Sophie wrapped her fingers around the warm mug, staring down at the fading beads of white fluff. There was that question again, the unbearable question that must be tearing her mother to pieces. Where will they find Jamie's body? Sophie could brush it away because it was irrelevant; she couldn't allow it to be relevant—but, as she pictured the drawn look in her mother's tired eyes, Sophie couldn't help but wonder what kind of call she was expecting.

A cheerful melody filled the kitchen as though mocking her train of thought. Fishing the phone from her discarded bag, she flipped it open. Monty's number. Hope tickled the walls of her stomach as she raised the phone to her ear. Please—oh please, please.

"Hi, Monty. You got my message?"

"H-hey, Soph…" Monty's nasal voice stuttered from the other end of the line. "Yeah, I did. I-I can't believe...I'm so sorry. Is your mom okay? Are you?"

"She's coping." Sophie lied, glancing toward the stairs. "I'm fine, too. Thanks."

"God, I can't even—" There was a bang as Monty hit something. "I knew he was acting weird! Caleb said he missed the sociology midterm and Jamie would never do that! But everyone was so hung up on graduation and that stupid fight about spring break—you know how he is about money and he won't talk to any of us!"

"I know." Sophie sighed and leaned back against the counter. Jamie's rabbit sat on a towel next to the sink. Dingy, threadbare, and damp with melting snow, the pitiful creature continued to smile, patiently waiting for its owner's return. "That's just how he is. He doesn't trust anyone."

"Why not!?" Monty exclaimed, "We've known each other since kindergarten! We were best friends! What did I do? I get why he doesn't trust Pippa. I get why he can't relate to the twins. But what did I ever do to make him push me away?!"

"Monty..." Sophie felt her voice waver. "You know I can't answer that..."

"I know...I just..." He took a deep breath before continuing, "It hurts, okay? I knew something wasn't right and I left him there. I left him. No wonder he doesn't fucking trust me."

"This isn't your fault." She assured him, doing her best to ignore the cold weight of her own guilt. She knew exactly why Jamie couldn't confide in his friends. It was the reason he never came home, the reason she saw fear in his eyes when she visited his dorm. He never said it, but she knew he was watching carefully, waiting for the day he would have to stop talking—the day she would forget everything and leave him behind. "This isn't anyone's fault. Let's just find Jamie, okay? Did you try logging into his account?"

"Y-yeah, wait a minute—let me get my laptop." He stammered, and Sophie could tell he welcomed the change of subject. There was a rustle of cloth followed by the soft hiss of a zipper, then, a light thump as his laptop came to rest on a hard surface. "I haven't checked, but I know he's still using my account. He gives me cash when he wants to download apps and stuff. I don't think he even knows iCloud exists."

"Can't say I'm surprised." Sophie remarked and took a sip of her cocoa.

"Okay..." There was a flurry of typing, then a sharp click. "Yeah, got it. Jamie's last recorded location puts his phone in or near the dorm on…on the sixteenth…" Monty paused and swallowed. "That's—that's the day we left. You're sure his phone wasn't in his room?"

"Yeah." Sophie made sure her voice was level. "The cops were pretty thorough."

"Well, this program isn't perfect; there's a pretty wide margin of error, but unless someone turned it off and took it, the phone should be somewhere within fifty meters of the building."

She hesitated, aware of the implication. "You think he's in the woods?"

"No." Monty paused as though considering the question. "No, this can't be right. Jamie's window was open when we left—I remember that. If he's been gone since before midterms..."

Sophie froze as it hit her. Who took his phone…? "Monty, the door was locked with the keys inside. Are you seriously saying someone climbed five stories just to take my brother's phone?" She groaned and pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead. "God, I hate this Sherlock bullshit."

"Sophie…" There was a moment of silence on the other end. "This is really weird. I…I think I'm going to try and catch a flight home…I can't stay here."

"I'm touched, but Burgess is kind of buried in an apocalyptic blizzard." She muttered, lifting the curtain to stare out at the falling snow. "You'll just get stranded."

"Shit…" He closed his laptop and made a frustrated noise in his throat, trailing off into a ragged sigh. "Sophie, did Jamie ever talk to you about Jack Frost?"

"What?" Her brows furrowed. "Of course he—wait, hang on." Checking to make sure her mother was still on the stairs, she opened the hall closet and pulled on a fresh pair of boots and an old coat before stepping out the back door. Her feet crunched in the snow as she pulled the door closed. "Of course I know about Jack. He's probably laughing his face off about this blizzard, but I don't see what that has to do with—"

"I saw him." A tangible silence followed the statement. "I saw him fly out of Jamie's room the same day we left for Rio, the same day his phone disappeared. Go ahead. Tell me I'm crazy. I spent ten hours trying to convince myself I was seeing things—caffeine, lack of sleep, and all that—but the image keeps getting clearer. I tried calling Jamie, but obviously he didn't answer and I—Sophie? You still there?"

Sophie hesitated a moment longer, trying to ignore the prickle of cold against her nose. Monty was serious. If she told the truth, he might actually believe her. Jamie could get his best friend back…but at what price? The truth had brought her brother nothing but heartache and countless hours of therapy. What would it do to Monty? Sophie chewed her bottom lip as she stared out at the snow, forcing herself to weigh her brother's safety over his best friend's future. A sigh drifted from her lips like a puff of smoke. It wasn't really a choice.

"…You're not crazy." The teenage girl held her palm out as she spoke, watching the puffy white flakes melt against her skin. "I believe in Jack Frost. I believe in all the Guardians."

"The Guardians…" Monty repeated as though lost in a memory.

"Yes." Sophie reassured him, closing her fingers around the melted snow. "Jamie believes in them, too. We always have." She inhaled a lungful of frozen air. "They're real."

Monty went quiet and she could only hope he was considering her words.

"I'm not joking." She hopped down off the stairs, legs disappearing as she kicked her way through the snow, passing the line where their old fence had been and making her way toward the unplowed street. A crop of large rocks sat a few yards back from the faint line of the road, piled on top of each other like a giant's grave. She had played on them as a child, climbing over the mossy boulders as though they were an impossible mountain—the last obstacle at the end of a great adventure. "Look, you get gifts on Christmas, right?"

"Well, Dad's Jewish, but Mom gets me stuff, yeah…" He hesitated. "She writes Santa on the label, but I'm not stupid…"

"That's usually how it works, but here's the thing." Sophie climbed onto the lowest tier of rocks, brushed the snow away, and sat down, resting her back against the curved surface of the largest boulder. "Mom stopped celebrating Christmas when I was nine. Jamie's therapist told her to get rid of everything—the tree, the lights, the gifts—all of it."

"Yeah, I remember that…You got presents, anyway, right?"

"Mom was furious. You should have seen the way she let into Jamie, asking him how he could stand there and lie to her face. She accused him of stealing, because there was no way he could've paid for the X-box."

Monty whistled. "Damn…"

"Yeah. Mom made him return everything and donated the money to charity." Sophie said, swinging her leg as she stared out over the fields of white, trying to discern the faint contour of the lake. "Jamie didn't leave those gifts, though. He never does. Mom thinks we're both out to punish her or something—that we blame her for…for being poor…"

"Sophie…"

"They're real, Monty." She stated with a conviction people usually reserve for religion. "If you saw Jack, it's not a coincidence. It means something."

"I…I need to think about this…" He sounded tired, even a little resigned. "I emailed you Jamie's ID and password, but I'll keep an eye on his account. It's the least I can do."

"Thanks." Sophie smiled. "I'll call you if I hear anything. Try to enjoy your vacation."

"Yeah, right. Pippa's friend keeps trying to lure me out to the club—like I've ever been into that. I just want to relax by the bar and work on my development portfolio."

She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Okay, forget what I said earlier—you are crazy. Take her out! It won't ki—"

"Goodbye, Sophie." Monty sighed.

"Bye..." A muted beep interrupted her as the call ended.

Sophie stared at the blank screen for a moment before sliding it into her pocket. She leaned back, letting her head rest against the rock. Snowflakes stung her cheeks like dull needles as she gazed up at the speckled black sky. Silence. The cold burned, but she didn't want to go inside. Not yet. Monty's call had made her feel much better, but Ms. Bennett's despair was infectious. The dark aura gnawed at Sophie's heart, leaving little pockets of doubt and sorrow. She wanted to believe Jack Frost had something to do with her brother's disappearance. It was a comfort strong enough to keep her darker doubts at bay. But if she went back in the house, she'd have to face her mother, the dead look in her eyes...the way she stared right through the phone, waiting for the call that would end everything. It was too much. She didn't know what to do, what to say. Most of all, she couldn't handle the worst case scenario. Jamie had to be alive. The alternative was too horrifying to imagine.

A gust of wind blew across the lake, ushering a chorus of creaks and groans as tree branches strained and snapped under the massing snow. Sophie shivered. She had to go back in. Maybe if she climbed the front porch, she could retreat into the safety of her room without having to pass her mother. The risk almost seemed worth it.

Sophie had barely started calculating her chances when a loud snap cut through her train of thought. The sound was followed almost immediately by a heavy whump. She tilted her head, straining her ears and focusing on the sound. She wanted to write it off as a fallen branch, but something about the noise bothered her. The crack had seemed too close, too low. Her next guess would have been footsteps, but there was no sign of anyone out in the blizzard. Lifting herself off the rock, Sophie turned, crouching on her knees to peer over the boulder. Another inch or so had accumulated since she'd left the house, but there wasn't a sign of anyone in the snow. The neighbors had abandoned their sporadic shoveling, surrendering their driveways to the storm. Yellow squares of light winked from curtained windows and a hint of chimney smoke lingered in the air. Burgess had collectively shut its doors, blocking out the storm.

She doubted anyone else would be dumb enough to be out in this weather. But there was always a chance someone might be stranded or lost. Involuntarily, she pictured Jamie: stumbling out of the woods, half frozen without his coat. But their house was too far from campus for that to even be a possibility. Squinting against the wind, Sophie let her eyes scan the drifts, searching for some sign of movement, something out of place. There were several pine trees between the rocks and the street, but nothing lurked beneath them.

Everything was white, everything except—there: a rock, similar to the ones she'd grown fond of as a child, but quite a bit smaller. It was round, perfectly oval in shape, with eerie carvings etched across its surface. The rock itself wasn't alarming. There were tons of them, after all. It wasn't even that strange to find it separated from its companions. Local kids tried to take them, all the time. They never got far and the ones that were removed usually found their way back.

The strange pile of ovals had achieved notoriety thanks to her brother. Jamie and Monty had posted pictures on a paranormal enthusiast blog, hoping to prove they'd seen the Easter Bunny. No one believed them, but the post went viral, accumulating a new story as it circulated the web. What started as innocent speculation quickly escalated into a dark tale of the chicken strangler, a preteen serial killer, who was determined to haunt his egg-shaped grave until he took a human victim. That was Bullshit, of course. Sophie knew these rocks, and there was nothing nefarious or evil about them.

Anyway, this particular oval caught her eye for a different reason. It stood out like a dark blotch of paint on a white canvas, completely bare of snow, thick green moss still clinging to its surface. Where had it—

Something tapped Sophie's leg.

She jerked back, barely managing to keep from falling. Intent on the distant shape, she hadn't even noticed the rising steam. The snow was melting, evaporating from the rocks. She could feel heat under her palms, pleasant and comfortable like an electric blanket. Green moss blossomed over the weathered carvings, spreading over their cracks and crevices like a spectacle of time-lapse photography. A single egg sat next to her right leg, nestled in a cluster of tiny purple flowers. It was small and white, completely unremarkable aside from the mystery of its existence. Sophie blinked rapidly, rich laughter echoing in her memory like a forgotten dream, familiar and comforting, but so far away.

Lifting the egg, she held it in her palm. It was larger than a chicken's egg, but it felt light, almost weightless. She turned it in her hands, smoothing her thumbs across the textured surface. There was no latch, no seam. As far as she could tell, it was a real egg. She shook it and heard a muffled rattle.

Well, there was only one way to open an egg. She tapped it against the rock until it cracked, Sophie peeled off the shell, revealing a layer of smooth and miraculously un-melted chocolate. Her heart skipped, her eyes burned, and she realized she was on the verge of tears. She knew who had left this egg. There was no question about it. Fingers shaking, she broke the second layer open, revealing a single malt ball and a folded scrap of paper. Her heart lifted and she forced herself to eat the chocolate as she unfolded the paper. It was a simple, short message in an impatient scrawl that maintained a hint of past elegance.

"Thank you…" Sophie breathed into to the wind.

He was safe. Jamie was safe. It didn't matter that the note didn't mention names. She knew exactly who it was from. Feeling better than she had all evening, Sophie refolded the paper and hopped down from the rocks. Keeping her fingers tight around the note, she headed back inside. Everything was going to be fine.

Monty threw his phone on the bed with a disgruntled sigh. He felt bad for hanging up on Sophie, but the last thing he needed was dating advice. He'd already had more than enough from his friends, his mother—even his grandmother seemed overly invested in his personal life. He frowned and sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he sank back down in the chair facing the hotel desk. Jamie. His internal voice spoke the name with less frustration than usual, but it still held a hint of bitterness. He stared at his laptop, eyes fixed on the tiny dot hovering over Calvert Hall. Sophie's words echoed in the back of his mind, stirring his memory like a forgotten cup of tea. The Guardians…Jamie believes in them, too. We always have.

Pulling off his glasses, he set them on the desk and leaned back in the bamboo chair, pressing his palms against his eyes until spots danced on his eyelids. The Guardians… He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to drop his guard and open his mind to the reverberations. Bit by bit, the walls around his thoughts began to ebb away, melting in uneven rivers like a candle in a draft. Distorted images spilled over the deteriorating structure, collecting in pools of fragmented memory. It wasn't difficult. This was just basic data recovery—a digital séance to salvage lost files and deleted information. They were just flashes at first. Still frames: a battered scrapbook, pictures of tiny footprints in the dirt, a narrow path of ice stretching out across a black lake. Then, the images began to move. Jamie was grinning, sliding across the snow as he pitched snowballs at imaginary foes, his childish laughter bright and clear as a bell. Monty felt the picture shift and it was a different voice—different laughter, deeper, older. He was running, slipping down the street on a river of ice, lungs burning as he struggled to keep up with the others. Damp socks stuck to his feet, barely shielding his toes from the cold—but he didn't care because they were real.

They were real.

Suddenly, he was standing on icy pavement, fear compressing his lungs like an airless void. Nightmares rose high in the air, blocking out the sky, the moon, the stars. All he could see were those piercing gold eyes, glittering in the night like the last flicker of a dying universe. Jamie was pushing past him, stepping boldly forward, one solitary figure against an ocean of fear. His best friend stood, fists balled, shoulders squared, and suddenly he knew. He remembered.

He was there on the street, standing side by side with superhuman heroes, but his body was frozen, feet glued to the pavement with shock and fear. But as Jamie stood there, surrounded by those awful terrors, he felt a flash of awe shoot through his core, an infusion of courage urging him forward despite his fears. His best friend was fighting, and he wanted—needed to help. If he could only move—move—move! For the first time in his life, he won. Bravery burned in his heart, thawing his limbs, and allowing him to stand with his friends—with Jamie. How could he ever forget that moment? The one time he'd felt at home in his own skin. The days before impossible realization—the awful truth that scared him more than any bump in the night.

Monty's hands fell to his lap. Spots lingered on the tan ceiling like flecks of golden sand. In his mind, he saw dinosaurs marching across Burgess, stingrays soaring over power lines, horses galloping around them like schools of equine fish. He could almost feel the tickle of sand rushing through his fingers. He had touched the fabric of dreams…that truth was so spectacular, it was almost frightening. What dreams would the Sandman send him now? A pang of wistful sadness pricked Monty's heart as he watched the ghostly figure jump from Jamie's window one last time. He had forgotten. Jamie had not. Monty swallowed the bitter realization, his fingers twisting into fists on his thighs. The thought of Jack Frost somehow made things immeasurably worse. It was stupid, pointless, and vile, but he allowed himself to wallow in resentment, after all, there wasn't anything constructive to do if he was stuck in this damn hotel. Maybe he would meet Pippa's friend for drinks. At least the alcohol would distract him from the futility of his worthless existence.

"Monty?" A voice spoke from the doorway.

Monty jumped, fumbling for his glasses as he turned to face the blurred figure. It was Pippa. She was standing inside the room, a hand resting lightly on the doorframe. Her hair fell in wind tossed waves, cascading over her shoulder in a way that flattered her subtle curves—the perfect picture of femininity, as always. Speaking of bitterness…but he wasn't going to be that guy. He was going to move on with his life, away from everything. Texas was his new beginning, his escape.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to barge in on you…I was just—I was kind of worried." She flicked her eyes down to the carpet, carefully closing the door behind her and taking another step into the room.

Monty wasn't exactly surprised to see her. His parents were well off, but they clung to their money like it was the last ticket to salvation on a ship bound for hell. He'd managed to talk them into covering most of Jamie's flight, but the hotel was a different story. Naturally, they were expected to bunk together. It was only fair. He'd fought the hardest for his friend's inclusion, so he wasn't about to complain about sharing a room. Besides, it would've been his last chance to—but that didn't matter, anymore.

The upset in their travel plans should have left him with Pippa's single room, but the polka-dotted suitcases and line of mysterious toiletries in the bathroom spoke otherwise. He didn't understand the change, something about Rachel's late party hours and Pippa's beauty sleep, but it was making him severely uncomfortable. The room was large enough, of course. It was pretty standard: double queen beds, unit bath, plasma TV, stocked mini-fridge, and complimentary mini shampoos. Apart from the ridiculous tropical décor, the only thing that hinted at their location was a bay window overlooking the Brazilian coastline. Even with separate beds, Monty felt awkward, like he didn't belong. He'd been raised to respect a woman's privacy. Being confronted with Pippa's toiletries, her razor on the shower caddy, that floral smell that lingered in the bathroom after she showered… It felt…wrong.

"I haven't seen you all day." Pippa lifted her gaze. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just…" He paused, wondering if he should say something about Jamie. It was kind of spiteful, but he really didn't want to. Pippa didn't deserve to know. A huge chunk of this mess was her fault, and her friend had taken Jamie's place. He rose from the chair, reaching out to close his laptop. "I got caught up with work and missed dinner. You're right, though. I'll try to be more sociable."

"No," She fidgeted with her hair, combing her fingers through the waves as she spoke. "I don't mind. It's nice, actually…professional. You're serious about your dreams and you've got the drive to achieve them. That's pretty extraordinary for someone our age. I mean, I'm going to grad school, but I still don't really know what I want to do with my life. I mean, yeah, psychologist, great, but that's just a job. It's not something I'm passionate about."

Monty's eyebrows furrowed. "I thought you were majoring in philosophy."

She shook her head and shifted her weight to her other foot. "No, I switched to psych in the middle of junior year." Pippa looked away, again. "You know, after…"

An awkward silence stretched between them, skirting the proverbial elephant.

"Yeah, I know." Monty said, hoping that would be the end of this particular conversation.

There were several topics he refused to talk about and they were dangerously close to one of them. Monty hated taking sides, but if he had to choose between his friends, it wouldn't be much of a contest. Jamie had been his best friend since preschool and Pippa was…well, Pippa. He'd liked her well enough before she started dating Jamie, but now… Well, now he didn't know what to feel.

Pippa's major wasn't the only thing that had changed over the past year, though the switch certainly exemplified those changes. Did that had something to do with the Guardians, as well? If he'd forgotten, what about the others? He was pretty sure Caleb and Claude would fall over laughing if he mentioned Santa or the Easter Bunny, but they'd barely believed to begin with. No one had heard from Cupcake since she moved away. That left Pippa.

Monty thought back to the sudden fight, the break that had sent everything crashing to the ground, the silence. They'd never heard Jamie's side of the story. Was that the reason? Had Pippa held on for that long?

A jealous twinge pulled at Monty's heart, but he shook himself, banishing the sensation. No. Pippa might have been the last to forget, but she'd lost her fight in the end. Now, by some miracle, he'd been given a second chance. He couldn't afford to wallow in spite. He had to do what he could for Jamie, and that meant privacy. Turning back to the desk, he picked up his wallet, checked to make sure his hotel key was still wedged in the outer compartment, and tucked it in his back pocket. The first step would be to find Rachel and insist on switching rooms. "I think I will go out for a while. I'm starving."

"Monty, wait, I—I need to talk to you…" Pippa put a hand out to stop him from passing.

He hesitated, confused by the anxiety in her voice. "If it's about Jamie, I can't really—"

"Don't!" She pressed herself against him and his back hit the wall.

All function in Monty's brain ground to a complete stop. Numbly, he registered her warmth, the surprising softness of her curves, the pressure as her fingers twisted in his shirt.

"Don't talk about him. Please. I can't. It's over. It's been over."

"P-Pippa, I—"

"When will it be enough? When!?" She pounded a fist against his chest and sobbed into the folds of his shirt. "I know he's your friend and I hate myself for hurting him, but it was over! I tried so hard to reach him, to make it work, but he was just…going through the motions. I—I don't even think he realized. He just…stopped. He never made plans for the future. His future. Our future. He was just drifting from day to day and I couldn't—" She broke off and looked up at him, puffy eyes brimming with tears. "Seven years, Monty. Seven years. That's longer than some marriages. I want a life. I want a house and kids and a future I can count on—and I can't…I can't wait anymore."

The kiss was so sudden, so unexpected, he barely registered what was happening. Her lips were pressed against his, her hands sliding up his chest to caress his neck. A single, ear-splitting decibel shrieked across his brain like a hospital flat-line. His body stiffened. Panic shot through his veins. This wasn't happening. He wanted to back away, to escape, but she had him pressed against the wall. His limbs felt like pieces of dead wood. He couldn't move. Pippa put her arms around him and the touch made his stomach turn. He had to…had to…how could he say no without telling her why? He fought himself, screaming internally at his weakness, his inability to speak out even against this madness.

A loud crack split the silence and Pippa jumped, blushing fiercely as she searched for the sound's origin. The sound jolted Monty like a defibrillator. His muscles relaxed and he was free. He turned, stepping toward the door, his eyes following Pippa's gaze to the bay window. A thin fissure had split the largest pane of glass like a bolt of lightning. There was something odd about the cracks, but his brain was still struggling to reboot, scanning his short term memory for potential errors. Pippa had kissed him. Pippa had kissed him? What bizarro universe was this? He couldn't remember her ever expressing the slightest interest in him, apart from the niceties required by friendship. Or was he just so clueless he hadn't noticed?

"What the hell…" Pippa hugged her arms against her chest and stepped back from the window.

"It…It was probably just a bird." The explanation spilled out automatically, but he couldn't shake the feeling he was missing something. A vague sense of foreboding tugged at Monty's gut and he was sure it had nothing to do with Pippa's advances.

"Y-yeah…" Pippa turned and stepped toward him. "Should we call the front desk?"

"In a minute." Monty raised his hands, keeping her at arm's length. "Pippa, I—I need to say something. I'm flattered, really, I am. I just…I'm not—" Now. He had to say it now. Before he lost his nerve. Before things got any worse. No matter what happened, it would be over. He'd be free. Blood pounded in his ears, urging him on. "I'm not…into girls, Pippa."

She blinked and stood there, staring at him with a small crease between her eyebrows as though struggling to find some other meaning to his words. She opened her mouth, closed it, then pressed her lips together in a small frown. Monty flushed and took his glasses off, rubbing the thick lenses to escape her scrutiny.

"Oh…" The resigned syllable bridged the space between them like an ocean breeze. "Oh…Monty, I didn't…You never…" She swallowed, staring down at her sandals as though trying to cover her embarrassment. "I…I wondered why you didn't date…I mean, you're still a bit of a geek, but you're cute and you've got a promising career…I actually—God I feel so stupid. I thought…I thought you might be waiting for…for me…" She let the sentence trail off, her voice barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner.

"I'm sorry, Pippa." Monty said, rubbing the back of his neck. God, he was obtuse. He should have known something was wrong when she insisted on switching rooms. After all, hadn't he been daydreaming about a similar scenario involving Jamie? "Look, don't—don't tell anyone, okay? My family doesn't know and they're not exactly….I'm not ready to tell them."

"Yeah…No, I won't…I'm sorry I—" Pippa made a vague hand gesture that could have meant anything or nothing, but he assumed she was referring to the spontaneous assault on his mouth.

Monty blushed and let the fractured apology slide, slipping his glasses back on and straightening them compulsively. "It's okay. Could you maybe get Rachel off my back, though?"

"Without telling her you're gay…? That's a tall order. But…" She sighed and the he could almost see the tension drain from her shoulders. "I'll see what I can do. Let me call the front desk, though. If that crack messes with our AC, I'm going to raise hell. It's like ninety degrees and I refuse to drown in my own sweat."

"Yeah." He smiled and inhaled deeply, feeling a bit lighter, a bit bolder, and a little less afraid. The worst of it was over.

He'd said it, spoken the words aloud and accepted that part of himself he'd been suppressing since grade school. He might not be ready to tell the world, or even his family, but he was ready to stop hiding from himself. Then, someday, when he felt safe and comfortable, maybe then he would tell his family.

Maybe.

"I'll be back in a bit." Monty closed the door behind him and continued down the hall to the elevator, leaving Pippa to harass hotel management.

The elevator doors opened and closed with a soft chime. As if on cue, a door clicked and swung open. Shadows spilled from the dark interior, disregarding the laws of light and form as they stretched over the opposing door like a malignant curse. The hallway lamps flickered and dimmed.

A man in black stepped from the room, standing in the dim light. The shadows stirred beneath his feet, wavering and flickering like a perversion of candle light. The man was young. His face could almost be described as gaunt, and his eyes were shadowed with more than lack of sleep. Despite the sweltering heat, he wore a long wool coat that seemed vaguely old fashioned. He wasn't especially tall, but his ridged posture and cold expression made him appear quite intimidating.

Brown eyes glinted with gold as they stared fixedly at the elevator. Jaw tightening, he turned to face the door to his right. Inside, a woman's voice spoke in raised tones, easily audible through the coated wood—something about a window and the temperature.

The man studied the lock for a moment before reaching out to turn the handle.

It opened.