Empty Spaces
.:':.
Oh, when you're still waiting for the snow to fall
It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all
Still waiting for the snow to fall
It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all
- Christmas Lights, Coldplay -
.:':.
It's midwinter in the Northern Hemisphere, but while the Arctic sun has set for the next few months, while temperatures have plummeted far below even the average Arctic heat and Christmas only days away, no snow has fallen anywhere.
But...they can't help but hope that the absence of snow continues. Snowfall would mean a new winter spirit, a replacement, one that is not Jack. They want to pretend to themselves that he's just...busy somewhere else, or on holiday, or, or something. Not...you know what. They want to believe that he's still there, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to pull the prank of the century. They want to believe. But they know that it's hopeless. Jack, their Jack, is dead and gone, become one with the snow he'd created for centuries, and it's all their fault.
They should have seen it. Should have noticed how weak he'd been getting. Even after all these years of knowing him, they'd just assumed that he'd come forward if he was hurting. But Jack wasn't like that. He'd keep his pains to himself – he never wanted to bother anyone, especially not when he believed that he could handle it on his own, and, yes, most of the time he could, but this wasn't necessarily a good thing. They'd thought they'd helped him get past that, though – but then, maybe three hundred years of self-reliance was just too difficult a thing to get over. Maybe he hadn't even understood what was happening to him, writing it off as simple exhaustion, not worth troubling anyone over. He'd known in the end, though, known he wasn't simply falling asleep. They could see it in his too-blue eyes, that soul-burning realisation, but he'd refused to be afraid, refused to let Pitch have the last laugh. He'd gone out with a smile on his lips and laughter in his eyes, surrounded by his friends; a better end than he ever could have hoped for.
And that was that. Two and a half decades was a long time to any human – long enough to find love and friendship and family and lose it all twice over – but for immortals such as they, twenty-five years were as fleeting as a single breath. And yet, those short decades as five Guardians instead of four shone brighter than all the centuries there had been four; with Jack's addition to the team came all of his vitality, his love for life despite the horrible things that it had thrown his way. With him around, they'd learned to appreciate even the simplest of things – an impromptu snowball fight, the colours of sunrise over the tundra, the feel of the Wind brushing through their hair or fur or feathers – where before they'd had no time, no time for pleasure, no time to pause, no time for each other, no time for the children, because they were far too busy bringing joy to...children.
But Jack had opened their eyes, made them see the world as he did – endless potential for hope and wonder and dreams and memories and fun. He'd taken their motley group of old acquaintances and turned them into a family. Oh, they had their highs and their lows, but every family did. A family that didn't argue and fall out every now and then was no family at all, and, yes, there were hurt feelings and several times one of their members refused to talk to the others for weeks, but they all forgave and forgot in the end. But none of them could forget that Jack was the one who held them all together.
And now he was gone, like a leaf on the breeze, and everything was falling apart.
Oh, maybe to an outsider they would come across as coping, getting back on their feet and compensating, but that's so far from the truth that it may as well be in orbit. Their fortnightly meetings – really just excuses to chat and let their hair down – have become monthly occasions because they just don't seem to work together anymore, like the clock that stops ticking because there's a cog missing. They can't get past his absence – turning to someone not there to divulge a witty comment, only for it to die on their lips; finding themselves wondering when he'd visit next, or why he was late; thinking, Jack would love thi- Oh. They can't deal with the unoccupied chair at the table, but they can't bear the thought of moving it away, because that would confirm that he's gone, really gone, and this is not all just some foul nightmare that Pitch had cooked up for them.
And now Christmas was approaching – no, looming. It loomed, only days away, a time of feasting and fun and family. Except fun was dead and their family was broken and suddenly they understood, heart and soul, all those children who'd sent Christmas lists with only one item: Please Santa can you bring my daddy back.
Even though they'd had barely two and a half decades together, it felt like a lifetime and they scarcely remembered what life had been like before him – didn't want to, because how could those grey, grey days ever measure up to what they had now? Except 'now' was worse than 'before' had ever been because it is far worse to lose something you cherished than never having it at all.
And, damn it all, it was their fault. All of it. They were the ones to make him, invisible to all, a Guardian, a spirit powered by belief. They'd freely, cheerfully, condemned him to this fate, not bothering to think of the consequences – because when Jamie grew up, when he reached eighteen, even if he still believed, Jack would be invisible and inaudible him once again and that belief would be nullified. Only children counted, only their faith could keep the Guardians alive, and despite all of his efforts, Jack remained unknown and disbelieved in by all except a small handful of half-grown children in Burgess. He'd hung on through Sophie and her schoolfriends' younger siblings, but his story never got any further and when those kids reached the cut off point, he'd gone downhill fast. He'd only just managed to reach the Pole in time to say goodbye before his body turned to snow and was carried away by his oldest friend to be scattered across the Arctic plain.
Jack was gone, and they would have to accept this and learn to ignore the empty spaces... But not now.
A lone snowflake twirled across the sky, a scout for the coming army.
.:':.
Disclaimer: If I owned it, this would be the sequel you'd get, so thank goodness I don't.
A/N: I've wanted to write this for a long time now, since at least the beginning of December. It was inspired purely by the song Christmas Lights by Coldplay, and it's the way I imagine what really happened after the movie. I wrote this in a couple of hours when I should have been doing homework and going to bed in a burst of inspiration which I attribute to Jack himself – it's been snowing sideways all day here, and I wanted to thank him somehow. So I killed him off, because that's what I do to all my favourite characters. Sorry, Jack. I love you really.