Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians, nor The Guardians of Childhood book series; the film belongs to DreamWorks Animation and the book series to William Joyce.

A/N: First of all, Happy Easter! What better present than a RotG story? The idea for this one has been with me since around November, and I was just sitting on it until I finally decided to try writing it instead of just certain little scenes, so it took a while before it was even fit to be read. I had a lot of fun working with this one, even though it felt like it took forever to write at times, and I'm very happy with the turnout! Also, a quick note: I moved Jamie's age back (I originally had him aged at ten in Snow in Summer, where he is now eight, which is why he's nine in this story).

There will be two chapters total, with the next going up fairly soon. I originally wrote this as one big story, but I decided to go a different way by dividing this into two chapters for publishing, one reason being because I know it's probably a pain for everyone to sit and read all of one of my longer stories at once. So stay tuned and feel free to leave feedback on how you liked this chapter and how you celebrated Easter! Personally, I was in church this morning, remembering just why this holiday means so much to me, and I'll be with my dad's family for the afternoon.

StarKatt427

There weren't many places better than Burgess in winter. Snow fell abundantly, covering the evergreens and providing the makings for snowballs and forts, setting the scene for sled rides and a number of other activities. The lakes froze over, the wind was crisp, and the sun, though it shone brightly, did not thaw the wonderland of ice.

In other words, it was perfect.

Although it was still one more day until winter officially began, Jack Frost's abilities were nearly at their greatest and he was in full swing, bringing along snow flurries in his wake and laughter and howls of exhilaration echoing throughout the town. He hadn't been back to Burgess since last winter's end, so as he road the wind through the streets and flew past buildings, he couldn't help but feel a little giddy, whooping and dive bombing at tops speeds. It had been a while since he'd felt this keyed up, this good, and it took all he had to reign his powers in so that he didn't start a full-out snowfall over the entire town; that would come in due time.

He had been waiting for this moment for weeks, to finally return home and have some fun and just celebrate his season with the group of children who first saw him twenty months ago, though a part of him especially returned to visit with the child who'd been the first to say his name and see him as he now was, the first to know he truly existed.

With every push-off from a building and every landing on the top of a vehicle, frost caked the surface his feet alighted on and his hands brushed over and his staff tapped, and already snow was beginning to settle in the clouds so that it would soon be falling down upon the town. The year before, he'd waited until it was formally winter before allowing it to snow, but now he just couldn't: too excited and overcome with the mischief he was still prone to, he reveled in the icy wetness that would soon be falling to the earth and catching in people's hair, chilling their exposed skin.

A few kids, the ones not old enough to be in school yet, saw him. Latched onto their mother's hands or carried in arms, little faces brightened at him and hands waved, and Jack responded likewise with a grin, finding such joy in their delight and the fact that they could see him. It didn't matter that their mothers stared right through him or looked past when they asked their children who they were waving at; they were adults, long given up on their belief in the Guardians. But the children saw him, and each time one of the small toddlers called out his name, he would form a snowflake on the tips of his fingers and send it floating their way, heartened by their glee.

Still, it wasn't enough to satisfy that almost hungry excitement he felt. It was great seeing these kids and having them see him in return, making them smile, but he wasn't getting that feeling: the one that had him jubilant and grounded and contented and protective and inwardly peaceful all at once and, strangely enough, warm; the one he felt so rarely, only when he was with a certain child who could pull out such an assortment of emotions in him.

Jamie.

It was nearing three o'clock, almost time for classes to let out, and Jack flew in the direction of the elementary school. It took next to no time for the wind to carry him across town, and just when the large school building came into sight, the bell rang out from the loudspeakers, signaling the end of another Friday and the beginning of the weekend. He perched on one of the higher limbs of a tree across the street, which gave him a perfect view of the children as they began filing out through the doors, bundled up to ward off the winter chill, laughing and playing around and basking in their freedom. He recognized a few of then as Jamie's friends, others being children who had come to believe in him during the beginning of the year: all of them ones he would see later.

No sign of Jamie.

Not yet bothered by the fact that Jamie had not left with his friends, Jack continued scanning over the school grounds and streets, searching for the familiar figure.

And spotted his target.

With a grin, Jack sailed downward toward the child, who was barely watching where he was going, nose buried in a book like always. Jack hovered silently behind him, his feet a few inches off the sidewalk, and remained so for at least a good minute, following after Jamie as he somehow managed to avoid tripping, not once lifting his eyes from the pages before him. Finally, realizing he probably wasn't even aware of is surroundings, Jack reached out and tapped his shoulder.

Before Jamie had even turned, Jack flipped over so that he was now in front of him, watching amusedly as the dark haired boy looked behind him for the culprit. Finally realizing no one was there, he turned back around, only to find himself nose to nose with Jack Frost.

Jamie startled back with a choked-off shout and wide eyes, book slipping from his hands to hit the concrete sidewalk, and then he was grinning that wide, thrilled grin Jack loved seeing on his face. He breathed out a laugh, too surprised or delighted to even retrieve the book. "What was that for?"

Jack shrugged flippantly, although he was unable to hide his own enthusiasm or ignore the way he felt another surge of winter rush through his veins, glad to be seeing his best friend for the first time in nearly half a year, the longing he'd hardly been aware of receding to be replaced by a buoyant happiness that had him remembering just how long it had been. Children grew so quickly, and missing even a few months of Jamie's childhood was undesirable; Jack couldn't complain, however, since he was able to see him and the rest of the children more than the other Guardians could. Thankfully, he didn't notice anything too different about the nine-year-old: definitely taller, face just a little less round, but ultimately Jamie.

"You didn't notice me," he responded. "Too busy reading, as usual. I came all this way, just to be beaten by a book." He bent to scoop up the fallen hardback, simultaneously looking at the cover and grinning: Chupacabra—Myth or Reality? "Well, it does look pretty cool," he admitted.

"It is," Jamie assured, then added after a moment with a grin, "but not as cool as Jack Frost."

The winter sprite laughed. "Good point," he said, handing the book over to Jamie, who tucked it under his arm, attention now focused entirely on Jack. He could see it, the animation in those eyes, in that smile, the happiness shining out in his words, and it made him feel good in a way he was still getting used to. Someone was happy to see him, genuinely happy, and it was amazing. It was also extremely surprising at just how normal this felt, the joking around, like it had only been a few days since he'd last seen Jamie.

Jack noticed Jamie glance around, watchful of any adult who might think he was "talking to himself", then assume a more natural position by leaning his back against the fence and tuning his head to face Jack, who now stood in the middle of the sidewalk. "I was wondering if you were going to show up today," the child commented.

Jack smiled slightly, idly twirling his staff. "Day before winter, right? 'Course I would, just like last year. A bit later than before, but I still made it."

"I watched for you at recess, and when I didn't see you anywhere, I wasn't sure if you were busy or had forgotten." Jamie twiddled his thumbs, smiling up crookedly at Jack, obviously unsure what else to say.

Jack was quiet a moment, trying to gather his thoughts on how to answer. He'd always managed to return home so that when the first day of winter rolled around, the land was covered with snow; of course, Jamie had only known him for the last year, so it was understandable for the child to be unsure whether to expect him or not. But there was no way Jack could or would ever forget Burgess, or Jamie. The year before, he'd managed to come back early in the morning, surprising Jamie with frosted windows and a familiar snow-made rabbit hopping around his head, showering him with gentle flakes.

A slight tug in his chest had Jack smiling, albeit more gently than before, and he reached out to rest on Jamie's head. "I didn't forget. Some last minute business in Norway took a little longer than I'd figured it would, but there's no way I was going to miss this."

Something cold brushed against his cheek, causing a sudden grin to spread across Jack's face as he looked up, Jamie following after him to stare at the snow now falling lazily from the light gray sky. He looked back to Jamie, letting his hand scuffle Jamie's already unkempt hair. "Perfect timing, huh?"

Jamie lightly shoved Jack's hand away, eyes laughing beneath his lashes as he smoothed his hair down: reassured.

Once again at ease due to the fact that Jamie was untroubled, Jack asked, "So, weekend. Got any plans?"

"We were supposed to visit my grandparents, but they both have the flu, so Mom hasn't made any other plans. But since you're here now, it's gonna be a lot of fun." Jamie lifted his eyes up to the light snowfall once again, sticking his tongue out to catch a flake and laughing. "I mean, it's already snowing."

"Not enough to stick," Jack warned. "But by tomorrow…" He flashed a toothy grin, already imagining the whiteness everywhere and the kids trudging through it, chunking snowballs at one another. An entire day outside in the snow; what could be better?

Jamie, eyes getting larger and brighter and mouth spreading into a broad smile, was apparently thinking the same thing, which was another reason he endeared himself so much to Jack: he absolutely loved winter. "This is gonna be great! Wait 'til everyone knows you're here. Maybe they can come over in a little while, and Mom will let Sophie play if I watch her, so—"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down!" Jack said through a laugh, hand extended to stop him, having nearly missed some of what was said because of how fast Jamie spoke when excited. "As much fun as that sounds—" and he meant it, it truly did sound awesome—"I can't. Not today, at least," he explained, lifting off the ground and landing on the top of a fence, now towering over Jamie. "I've got some rounds to make, a few more places to bring in winter to before I can take time off."

He saw Jamie's face fall; it was for only a second, and then he was smiling again, albeit with not as much enthusiasm. But it still had guilt instantly crawling in Jack's belly for making him look so disappointed. He was used to letting down people in the past, namely the Guardians, but when it came to Jamie, he could hardly stand it. Jack slid a hand into the pocket of his sweatshirt, pressing his palm against his middle, trying to push the knot away.

"Busy day, huh?" asked Jamie, head thrown back against the fence so that he was looking up at him.

"Almost every day's busy," Jack answered, acutely aware of how before last year, every day had been nothing but hours of soaring on the wind and letting mischief reign supreme, of play and no worries; of course, no human could see him before last year. There were moments when he missed those days and the freedoms he had lost, but most of the time, he was more grateful for what he had gained: a place to belong, friends that truly cared about him, a purpose, believers. "What can I say? Starting off winter's kind of a big deal. And since I'm guessing you want plenty of snow, I've got my work cut out for me."

The child laughed, not arguing with the point made.

And even though he was smiling again, Jack couldn't get rid of that ball of unease in his stomach, like he was doing something wrong, like he was letting Jamie down. That sad little pull of his lips, the slight darkening of his eyes, had Jack anxious to do anything to keep that look from cropping up on his face again, to please him and make him smile and laugh, always laugh. To have fun.

"Tell you what," he began, flipping off the fence and landing in front of Jamie, stooping in front of him like he so often did. "I'll come by tonight, and we'll do the usual."

The usual involved Jack arriving around nine-thirty, not long after Jamie was supposed to be in bed, and the two doing anything possible; whether it was sneaking out to a secluded place where Jack could cause enough snow to play in or simply piling up on Jamie's bed and talking for hours, Jamie about school and his mother and sister and sometimes even his father or a new game or toy, and Jack about his adventures over the last three centuries, playing tricks on Bunny or trying to bust into North's castle. Jamie, who Jack could see was a storyteller by nature, preferred to listen during these moments, convinced his life was boring in comparison to Jack's, while Jack enjoyed hearing about what all Jamie did, his own childhood so far away and certain memories still jumbled that it made him feel peaceful to hear about and see the way Jamie loved his mother and sister, reminding him of how he loved his own from the memories he had of them.

But tonight, Jack had a very good feeling he would be working on the snow he'd assured Jamie of.

After a moment, Jamie's smile grew back into the one Jack wanted, and he nodded. "Deal."

Jack tore through the night, begging the wind to carry him faster and cursing himself for letting time get away from him. The Southern states truly were cursed by infernally high temperatures; seventy-four degrees in the middle of December was unnatural and enough to have Jack a little sluggish after spending most of the afternoon and part of the night battling with a heat that fought tooth and nail against his winter chill.

There was no excuse for it: he was late, and it was his own fault (to be technical, it was summer and autumn's fault, the two seasons refusing to give way to the flow of nature and let winter take its place, which had resulted in Jack nearly getting downright sick from such heated conditions). He wasn't stopping to check the time, though he knew it was far later than nine-thirty, and the knowledge that he was going to be more than a little late propelled him farther, his magic working with the wind. It seemed like the trip was taking hours when it should have only been thirty minutes at the most, and Jack could feel the black of night growing deeper.

"Come on, Wind, please."

Finally, finally, the terrain changed into the familiar forests surrounding Burgess, then to the city itself, and Jack let out a relieved breath, though his stomach was tight with guilt and nerves as he flew down the streets, heading in the direction of Jamie's suburban home.

The ringing toll of the town square clock had Jack screeching to an abrupt halt, eyes locking on the clock's face.

"Oh no," he groaned.

Midnight.

Two-and-a-half hours late.

Jack's hand tightened around his staff, blue frost shooting up and down it as he pushed off of the nearest building, propelling himself forward.

The house was completely dark, not even the porch and garage lights on, which was a little odd; even the window that belonged to Miss Bennett was dark, something that normally would have been a good thing. Now, however, it was just another reminder of how he had failed to make it in time. Exhaling a breath where he stood in the street, Jack was just about to lift off when something sudden rolled through him, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end.

It was a feeling that wasn't easily describable and something he'd only experienced a few times: ominous and cold but not his cold, like a dreary chill that fed on something dark. It had him completely tense, body taught as he jerked around, looking to the shadows, under the streetlights, at the parked cars—

Jack's eyes locked back on the street lights. Every one of them was on, illuminating the area below like it should have, except for the one outside Jamie's home.

Jack's stomach hollowed out as he looked back to the porch. No light.

Couldn't be a coincidence.

He knew this feeling, the one that thrived off fears and tried to make them into reality; he'd faced it not even two years ago, and it was something that would never leave him.

"No. No way."

Pitch Black.

Disbelief shot through Jack, hand tightening on his staff without thinking as he spun around, prepared for anything as he searched the shadows. Even as he stood ready, nothing appeared: no slinking darkness, nothing even moved.

Still apprehensive, Jack focused on the dark sensation surrounding him, searching it out, and he finally concluded that it didn't feel like before, like it wasn't…whole, like he wasn't feeling the real Pitch; just a piece of him. More like one of his nightmares.

And as he turned back to Jamie's house, he understood why.

The fear was worse than the shock as Jack pushed off the ground, and he was at Jamie's window in less than a second, balancing on the frame and trying to see inside the shadowy bedroom. It was never this dark, since Jamie always had a nightlight going, but the absolute blackness of the room was answer enough; there wasn't even any moonlight, it seemed, like it was aware of the evil creeping up the walls and refused to enter. He slid in through the unlocked window with barely a sound.

And there was Jamie, tossing and mumbling in sleep, the sheets a twisted mess around him.

Jack leaned over the bed, noticing that Jamie's stuffed rabbit, the one he slept with every night, was on the floor, which wasn't a good sign. He reached out to shake Jamie's shoulder, hand pressing against his back urgently. "Jamie. Hey, kiddo, wake up."

A soft moan was his only response, the small body beneath his hand turning away from him.

Trying to remain calm and not let the sudden burst of fear get the better of him,

Jack turned Jamie back over so that he was on his other side and facing him, kneeling on the bed and shaking him a bit more forcefully. "Kid, come on, time to get up. Now."

Jamie whimpered, the sound horribly small and pitiful and causing a violent tremor to run through Jack's body, and he could feel it, the way his heart was thumping up his throat and his chest was clenched with adrenaline fear. Why wasn't he waking up? He tried to coax Jamie out of the ball he was curled into, but the little boy's muscles were bunched tight with fear, and Jamie released another stabbing moan, mumbling incoherently.

"Jamie, open your eyes. Wake up!"

The shake of a head, the scrunching up of closed eyes, fingers clenching and unclenching. "No."

Jack laid his staff on the other side of the bed and flipped Jamie onto his back, struggling not to panic as he forced the child to straighten out; he looked utterly defenseless lying there, arms pulling in as if to shield himself, hands at his face and entire body jerking with each moaned "no" that left his lips. Jack kneeled over him, pinning him down so that he didn't hurt himself with his thrashing and pressing a hand to his sleep-warmed face, hoping the iciness would snap him awake, but even that failed; Jamie simply whined deep in his throat, trying to escape the nightmare.

"Jamie!" He yanked him upward, harder than he'd meant to, but it did little good. "If you don't wake up, I'm gonna freeze you're skinny butt! Do you hear me?"

Of course it didn't work; fear was getting to him, making him desperate.

That was when he saw it, circling just above Jamie's head, sliding out of the darkness: a swirling mass of gritty black sand that had no definite shape, spewing out a nightmare foul enough to have Jamie actually moaning in his sleep, golden dream turned to dark nightmare.

A Fearling.

He'd known it was Pitch; he just hadn't wanted to believe it, that he could have returned already. Now, with Jamie caught in the middle of one of his night terrors, there was no denying it.

Rage shot through him, colder than cold and enough to burn, as he focused his attention on the black sand. "Release him," Jack commanded, voice deadly calm but on the verge of turning into a full-out snarl, edged with ice and biting.

The Fearling seemed to halt, as if somehow studying him, then pressed on, increasing in speed. As if affected, Jamie let out a half-choked breath, trying to free himself from the hold Jack still had on him.

Jack had to force himself to keep his eyes off of Jamie, the tightness crushing his chest trying to pull him back to the child still caught in a nightmare, but practicality won out as he focused on Pitch's minion. With his free hand, he sent out a burst of ice blue frost, zapping the nightmare in an attempt to freeze it, but it simply spread out, dodging the attack so that the blue crystals hit the wall, a thin layer of ice about the size of a handprint coating the wallpaper.

There was no face, no features…and yet, Jack could have sworn the thing smiled, as if Pitch were mocking him. It circled in on itself, contorting and shifting as an image tried to form, gritty sand giving him a better target but growing in strength as a consequence.

Beneath him, a strangled whisper from Jamie. "Jack."

What little patience Jack had left snapped, Jamie calling out for him his undoing. His hand locked around his staff, a massive flash of blue energy shooting up the wood so that the room literally glowed as he aimed it at the nightmare, sending a shock of frigid cold out from his body and directly into the Fearling.

The nightmare, which never had had enough power to retain a physical shape for long, blew outward as the icy shock tore through it, black ice flying in shards that ripped through the room. A piece caught Jack's cheek, tearing a thin gash that burned more than anything, and he watched as the shards exploded in the air, the sound of shattering glass breaking into the silence as what remained of the black sand trickled out of the open window, leaving Jack staring after it, panting in gasps that refused to enter correctly.

As the room calmed, a pale light flooded inside, Man in Moon seeing that Pitch's presence had vanished and illuminating the inky darkness with his pure light. Jack sighed deeply, letting his head drop.

A startled breath, eyes opening wide and staring into nothing, and Jamie was awake.

Jack, gaze snapping back to the boy, released a relieved breath, raking a hand through his hair. He began to smile, but stopped. "Jamie?"

He leaned back over the dazed child, who still did not seem to be entirely awake, though he was blinking now. Alarm iced over his stomach at the terror still apparent in those eyes, but also because of the vacancy, the emptiness brought about by the nightmare.

After several painstaking moments, Jamie slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, eyes searching around the room quickly, breaths slightly spasmodic, and Jack backed away to give him room, though he wanted nothing more than to shake away whatever fears were hanging onto him.

Jamie looked around the room, eyes shining unnaturally bright. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

He went still, eyes widening, before they settled back to where Jack crouched on the bed. But his gaze was empty, unfocused, like he was…

Seeing through him.

"Jack?" he repeated, voice higher this time, fearful and suddenly extremely young.

"Right here," Jack said, leaning in a little closer, trying to keep his newfound fear in check. Jamie couldn't not see him, it wasn't possible.

Then again, nightmaresand shouldn't be possible either. Not anymore. Not since Pitch had been defeated.

Jack was still too bewildered to truly feel the anger that was setting up inside of him, but it was still there, trying to pull him under if he let it and consume him. He would have to worry about what this attack meant later, attention now focused on his friend and whatever demon was still haunting him.

Jamie's bottom lip quivered, teary eyes staring wildly but not seeing. "I can't…J-Jack, I can't see you."

Panic. It shot through his every limb, searing his heart like a knife and tearing the air from his lungs, leaving him gaping like the first time he'd been walked through, his entire body affected by the shock: everything went into overdrive, wrenching him forward as he stared into the little boy's watery sightless eyes.

Jamie couldn't see him.

Clenching his teeth until he thought they might crack, Jack reached out and grabbed his shoulders firmly, relieved that his hands didn't slip through, and held him tight. "I'm here. In front of you." See me. Please, please see me.

He watched as, after a moment, the fog lifted from brown eyes, tears spilling over as the nightmare cleared, and those eyes fixed on him, saw him. Breath after jerky breath shook Jamie's chest, and another wave of tears wound down his cheeks.

Exhaling a shaken laugh that was more of a strangled breath, Jack brought his hands up to either side of Jamie's head. "It's okay. Only a bad dream."

A trembling little hand touched his face, warm against his chilled skin, and Jamie exhaled unevenly, tears coming faster.

"I'm right here," Jack softly assured.

And then the Jamie broke, falling against him with a sob and quivering violently.

Jack lifted his arms, letting them hover unsurely for a moment, then put his hands on Jamie's shoulders, sliding them down so that he was holding the crying child. He placed a hand to the back of his head, pressing him closer and soothingly, clumsily, stroking his fingers through his soft hair. "Hey, it's okay, it's okay," he said quickly, not sure how to calm him. "It was a nightmare, that's all. It's over…"

He didn't have a clue as to what he should be doing; the memories of his sister weeping were distant, from another time, and though he could recall calming her, keeping her from crying, he felt at a loss for what to do with the small body clinging to him.

"I...I couldn't see you...I c-couldn't see you, Jack."

If the fact that Jack had once more been invisible had scared Jamie that badly, it had terrified Jack; for one moment, it was like the last three hundred years all over again, only worse now because he had known the sweetness of being seen, of being somebody to someone.

He couldn't go back to that. And especially not when he had come to know Jamie.

"I know, but you can now." He pressed his face into Jamie's hair, every sob that shook through the little boy another hit to his center, tears soaking into his hoodie.

"S-scared…" Jamie mumbled, hands shaking against Jack's back where he clung tight to him. "Scared you were gone."

Jack's hold tightened, chest feeling strangely hollow. "No. Not ever. I'm always with you, remember?"

He heard Jamie suck in a breath, only to have it taken as another sob exited him, arms surprisingly tight around Jack's middle. "Sorry. I'm s-sorry I couldn't see you."

"Stop it," Jack ordered, voice harsher than he'd intended; the ache radiating up through his chest was getting worse the longer Jamie's small form shook against his, his anger with Pitch growing into something cancerous every time he heard Jamie get choked on tears, felt hands clutching desperately to him, remembered the raw fear imprinted into those deep eyes when Jamie couldn't see him. Jack pulled him back, regretting it when the little boy's head fell forward and he could see the tears coating his cheeks, eyes unable to open without more wetness leaking from them. He grasped Jamie's head, lifting his face so that he was looking up at him, brown eyes large and lashes stuck together, lip quivering and tears sliding over his mouth.

"It's not your fault, okay?" Jack said, lower this time, willing Jamie to listen to him. "You can see me, you know I'm real. I'm right here, I have you, and I'm not going anywhere."

Jamie shook his head, hands unwinding from around him to latch onto the front of his hoodie, trying to speak but getting choked on tears.

Jack couldn't remember having ever seen Jamie cry in the time he had known him; the kid was strong, too optimistic to find much of anything to be too sad over, so this was something excruciating for Jack. He didn't like seeing kids cry anyway, being a Guardian, but this…this literally hurt.

He leaned forward, hands still cradling Jamie's face, and after a moment on indecision, wiped his thumbs over sticky, warm cheeks, cooling tears in the hopes of drying them. "Jamie, you have to try and calm down, okay? You can barely breathe."

Sucking in violent breaths, Jamie used one of his hands to wipe at his face, smearing tears and coughing, and Jack could feel the small fingers against his trembling. A sob hitched the child's chest, fat drops coming fast as he tried in vain to make them stop, throat working to swallow down tears only to gag on them.

Jack took his hand, small fingers momentarily encased by his larger ones, then let both of his hands slide around to grip the back of Jamie's neck, pressing his forehead to the boy's. Focusing on his center, he felt icy magic begin sliding through his veins, through nerves and muscles and bones, until it immerged at his fingertips where they rested on Jamie's erratic pulse.

Jamie's breath halted, wet brown eyes opening wide to stare at him.

Jack smiled, though the action hurt, and he let his hands return to Jamie's face, cradling his cheeks. "Don't apologize, okay? You see me. That's all I need."

The little boy blinked furiously, tears still coming but not quite as forcefully, and he nodded and nodded again, before pressing himself back against Jack.

Several minutes passed, Jack pulling Jamie onto his legs so that he had a better hold of him as his tears quieted, finally slowing enough so that his small body began lessening in trembles. But as Jack began to readjust him, trying to find a more comfortable position, all progress nearly evaporated as Jamie startled, frantically grasping at him with glazed eyes: sleep this time, not the veil that had hidden Jack from his sight.

"You're fine," Jack said quickly, reassuming his consoling ministrations by squeezing his shoulders, tugging the exhausted, distressed child back against him. "I've got you."

Jamie buried his face deeper against his hoodie, hands fisted in the material. "Please don't leave. Please…"

Each plead was a stab: burning, causing Jack's throat to constrict and his arms long to just remain wrapped around Jamie and never let him go, to erase every fear and keep him safe, to make him laugh and smile and never, ever, cry. But he couldn't do that; he wasn't sure how to express everything inside him, years of never having a person interact with him having taken its toll. All he could do was lean back against the headboard, bringing his legs up to sit crossed-legged and framing Jamie in his arms, knowing that, for once, his low body temperature would be a comfort, reminding Jamie that he was, in fact, there.

The one thing Jack knew for certain was that he wouldn't be letting this child out of his immediate sight for a long, long time.

"I won't leave you."

Thankfully, Jamie stilled against him, and Jack sighed in relief.

Jamie, finally, went still once more, giving Jack a chance to search out the room for any more traces of Pitch's black sand. He found nothing, the burned-out nightlight and Jamie's state the only indication the dark spirit had ever struck.

It was then that, out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw something red hanging off the bed, kicked to the bottom so that it nearly touched the floorboards, and after a moment of scrutiny, he felt something in him crack.

Jamie's jacket, thrown over the edge of his mattress.

Craning his head, Jack looked to the floor, and sure enough, there was a pair of sneakers.

He'd fallen asleep. Waiting on him.

The pain that hit Jack was familiar, like when he'd let Baby Tooth get captured and when he hadn't been there to help keep Bunny's eggs safe, the sadness and disappointment in their eyes awful in a way he had never known. This time, however, was far worse than anything he could have ever imagined. It was like an excruciating weight pressing on his chest that caused the back of his throat to ache and his center to throb, lungs seeming to constrict and the back of his eyes burn: it was like actual pain.

He had failed a child, the very thing he protected. And not just any child, but Jamie, the one person who had absolute faith in him. He hadn't been there to protect him from Pitch.

Jack closed his eyes, head bowed and eyes shut tight as he tried to push down the emotions threatening to tear him apart, wishing more than anything that he could just stop letting people down. He sighed, tightening his hold of the sniffing child in the hopes of making the pain radiating from his center ease. "I'm sorry, Jamie. I'm so sorry."

It took longer than Jack would have liked, but eventually, Jamie's tears turned into hiccups, then sniffs, until it was just the occasional hitching of his breath as he began to fall asleep, though he was fighting it. Jack didn't let his hand touch any part of the child's warm skin, afraid the cold temperature of his own body might wake him, so he contented himself with rubbing over his thin back, slightly rocking him and humming under his breath, able to remember his mother doing the same for him when he'd been a child plagued by nightmares.

Nightmares. Pitch Black.

There was no denying Pitch was behind this; no one else had the power to corrupt dreams. But when Pitch had said he would return, Jack hadn't thought it would be so soon, not if he hadn't resurfaced from the Dark Ages until recently.

When he remembered Jamie caught in Pitch's nightmare, the black sand above his head and the way Jamie hadn't been able to see him, it filled his stomach with a bubbling acid, threatening to send his powers shooting outward and destroy everything in sight. If it had been during his first hundred years, he wouldn't have been able to hold it in; it would have torn through his body and caused enough damage to put lives at risk. Even now, holding back such anger-fused magic was taxing, but Jack did it, refusing to endanger Jamie any farther.

He would have to wait and unleash his fury the moment he found Pitch.

Now, the only thing he could do was get to the others and let them know that the Boogeyman was coming back. There was no way he would leave Jamie, especially after Pitch targeted him, but letting the other Guardians know couldn't wait.

Careful not to jostle Jamie awake, Jack slid a hand into his left pocket, palm curling over the small glass object he'd had since his last visit to Santa's a few months ago, sliding it free so that it rested on the middle of his palm. He studied the small orb, about half the size of a golf ball and crystal clear: a new Snow Globe of North's, smaller than any other he had made.

Barely above a whisper, Jack spoke his destination: "North's Workshop."

Instantly, the clear glass came alive, glowing with the image of the Globe Room at North's home, a familiar, welcome.

Jack tossed the snow globe, the portal it created illuminating the bedroom with the image of the safe haven. Jack slid out from beneath Jamie, who fortunately did not wake, and once standing, picked him up, the child instinctively wrapping his legs around his middle and arms twining around his neck as he mumbled, burrowing his face into Jack's hoodie. Jack soothed him with a few gentle hums, hand rubbing up his back briefly, before grabbing his staff and looking back to the swirling gateway.

Holding tight to Jamie, he took three quick, running steps and let himself be pulled into the portal.

There ya go! Hope you'll come back for Chapter Two.

Also, I made a reference to Jamie's dad: I didn't elaborate on him because I haven't decided yet what I want to have happened to him. Has he died? Or is he and Jamie's mom divorced? I'll try to decide on this later.