Warnings: Character death (of old age), graphic description of that type of death. But lots of happy things first.
It was a point of pride for Jack that he visited Jamie at least once a year, preferably on that date in April, when he had become a proper Guardian.
On that day they talked some, mostly Jack catching up with Jamie's life. At first they threw a few snowballs, went sledding and Jack always made it snow inside Jamie's room. Jamie always ended their special evening by proclaiming that he would always believe in Jack Frost, no matter what happened.
Year after year went by, and Jamie kept true to his word. The child became a teenager, the teenager a young adult. The April came when Jamie was taller than Jack and the boy teased Jack with it for the entire duration of their snowball fight.
On the eve of Jamie's 18th birthday there was a special present for the man that never gave up his hopes, even when plagued by nightmares that sullied the minds of others. The package wasn't signed and nobody in Jamie's family knew where it had come from. But the long scarf still carried the cold from the last hands that touched it and the white snowflake design on the blue background made it look too close to the real thing to have come from any but one source.
That night Jack dropped by, as always announced by a draft of cold. Jamie perked from his position on the bed, the scarf wrapped around his neck but otherwise already dressed in his pajamas.
"Didn't think you'd drop by, Jack. You missed my other birthdays," Jamie said. "Thanks for the scarf."
Jack laughed softly and landed on his feet at the end of the bed. "This one is a special occasion, methinks. And a long scarf for a tall boy," Jack said. Idly he twirled his staff a few times, missing the drawer by inches.
"What, I'm a legal adult now, that's what's special?" Jamie waved that away, but then a frown overtook his features. "Me becoming an adult won't have any impact on you, will it?"
Jack shrugged. "Not that I know of. It doesn't really matter if it's a child or an adult, as long as you remain human. Besides, being eighteen doesn't make you any more of an adult than becoming nineteen or forty-five. Where I come from you became an adult when you had kids." Jack leaned on his staff with a grin on his face, his eyes looking at nothing but his own, relatively recently gained, memories. "Fella I knew became an 'adult' when he was fifteen."
Jamie wrapped himself in his blanket, warding off the chill Jack always gave off. He was reminded of a horror movie he had recently watched. Ghosts gave off cold as well.
"Where do you come from?" Jamie asked. Jack snapped back to the present and stood upright, his eyes slightly widening.
"I was born out of snow and the moon, fun and ice balls and winter," Jack said. Jamie shook his head, the blue-white scarf scratching against his blanket.
"No, I meant, where do you originally come from. You've said before that you are three hundred years old, and I get that you're a Guardian, but you must've had parents or something."
Jack cocked his head. "It was my biggest nightmare, you know," he said cryptically. "To never find out where I came from. Thanks to you I know, so I guess now that you're at least an adult in your civilization, I owe you the truth."
On Jamie's eighteenth birthday they talked all night, only throwing a snowball once. Jack told about his village, his sister, the proper way to make fire without a lighter in those days. They talked about skinning a rabbit to make stew, the long winters, life before the invention of the car, the radio, every electronic thing Jamie was familiar with.
It was the first time Jack had talked about the family he had unwillingly left behind, and it both warmed him and left him colder inside, because he knew he would never get them back, and his sister had probably blamed herself for his death, living under the thought 'if only'.
When April rolled around when Jamie was twenty, Jack could no longer find him in his home town.
The cloud formations above the North Pole were majestic, towering high above the eternal ice. Jack cut a straight path through them in his hurry to reach North and his palace. Ice slowly spread out all around him as he flew, creating an unnaturally straight path of snowflakes in his wake.
When he reached the palace he quickly dropped down, still landing light-footed on the snow. He waved hello to Phil and raced past the other guards, only one goal in his mind.
"Hello, Jack, good to see you!" North proclaimed.
"Hi. Do you have a way to track adults who still believe?" Jack asked, speaking quickly, fearing the worst. What if Jamie had also fallen through the ice, got hit by a car, succumbed to a disease? The first kid who believed in him couldn't have fallen off the map so quickly, it just wouldn't be fair.
"If he still believes, he's on the map," North said, gesturing towards the slowly spinning globe. Jack hovered in front of it, squinting as he looked at all the lights. The lights were strong, thankfully, and he got a sense of who the kid was who believed. A torrent of semi-formed thoughts and small prayers washed over him as kids all over the world talked to their toys, their friends, read stories and generally were busy with their beliefs. He touched the globe, going over light after light, looking for that particular sense of sharpened hope Jamie now carried around with him.
He felt North watch him intently, but Jack had a friend to meet tonight, an unspoken promise to fulfill. His hand brushed over something familiar, about two hundred miles from Jamie's hometown. He focused on the bright spot of light, ice crystals slowly forming on the globe until they melted under the heat of the lights.
"Thanks, North," Jack said, turning around but not touching the floor yet.
"Sure thing, Jack. Did you find Jamie?" Jack nodded, not even questioning how North knew what he had been looking for. His yearly visits to the adult who believed were general knowledge among the Guardians. Tooth had also visited once, but that hadn't gone over too well when Tooth became over-excited by the discovery of an ancient shark tooth Jamie had purchased in a national history museum. She refused to let go of the tooth, even when both Jack and Jamie had pulled on it at the same time, creating a tug-o-war. It had ended with Jamie relenting the tooth and the fairy had run off with it.
Jack waved goodbye to the elves and yetis before blasting off. If he hurried he would make it to Jamie's new home around bedtime.
Jack lay in the bed, one hand behind his head, the other occupied with flipping a coin he had found in the air, again and again and again. Sometimes he hit the underside of the bed above him, making him look for the coin in the bedding before he could flip it again.
The bed was surrounded by other bunk beds, all with the same green covers and trunk at the foot of the bed. The room smelled like deodorant and shoe polish, the linens were rough.
Jamie trudged into the room, along with a dozen other men. He trailed mud as he walked, eyes downcast. Jack snatched the coin from mid-air and turned his head towards the man who believed in him. He looked tired, exhausted even. His hair was short, the bags under his eyes pronounced. He had gained a lot of muscles and although he had quickly grown taller than Jack over the years, he was now broader as well.
"So you joined the army," Jack said by way of greeting. Jamie's head snapped up at the sound of his voice.
"Yes," Jamie said. Another soldier turned to Jamie.
"What?"
"Nothing," Jamie quickly amended. He dumped his bag on the ground near the bed and motioned for Jack to follow him. Grabbing his staff from where it was propped against the bunk beds, Jack trailed behind Jamie as he led them outside, into the biting April air. Jack's doing, although he would have held back the snow storm if he had known that Jamie was on a field exercise.
"So you became another kind of guardian," Jack said. He was torn between admiration and fear. Soldiers who lay down their lives to fight for what was right, well, he could certainly identify with that. It was the 'laying down their lives' part he feared in relation to Jamie.
"I guess you can put it that way, yeah," Jamie said with a grin. "Although I'm still in training. If all goes well, I'll graduate the program in five weeks."
"I thought you were heading off to college," Jack said. He leaned against the wall of the barracks and Jamie joined him there, seeking shelter from the slowly falling snowflakes.
"I thought so as well, but it... I decided I wanted something else besides being in debt for the next twenty years and a degree which might not even help me get a job. And, well, I kind of wanted to become a guardian."
Jamie let his head fall back against the wall, heaving a deep sigh. "It's hard, though. Half the time I'm asleep on my feet and the other half I'm ironing my uniform, it feels like. Every crease has to be absolutely perfect. Once I'm through this, I'm never ironing again. Or shining my shoes."
Jack laughed and wriggled the toes of his bare feet. "Yeah, I'm afraid I can't help you there. Not much experience in that department."
He jumped into the air and zipped around a few times, until finally he hovered upside-down in Jamie's field of vision. "But hey, at least I'll make sure that once this storm clears up, there won't be any more snowstorms over here. And I'll convince Bunnymund to sneak you a few eggs."
Jamie grinned and had to catch himself as he slid down the wall. Jack righted himself and perched on his staff, throwing the man a worried look.
"You alright?"
"I will be after I get some sleep. Although, knowing my drill sergeant, he'll take us on a hike three hours from now."
Jamie yawned involuntarily, making Jack join in. "I'm sorry, Jack, but I really need to crash. Rain-check for next time?"
"Snow-check for next time," Jack confirmed, keeping his disappointed face under wraps. Jamie needed his sleep, and there was always next year, or maybe he could pop by for a surprise visit on Jamie's birthday in November.
If Jamie hadn't died in service of the country by then.
The man who believed was taught about weapons, something about a tactical data system that went way beyond Jack's experience. He liked Jamie in that position. It meant that while he acted in combat, he usually didn't have guns pointed at him. As a matter of fact, Jamie was the one pointing the guns. Big ones.
Four years later, Jack once again came across an empty house. Well, tiny apartment where Jamie lived with two other guys, but it was his home. Which meant that Jack liked it, even if it smelled of feet. But even if his smell lingered, Jamie himself wasn't there.
The man he had subletted his room to had the exact same shade of hair as Jamie, but he walked right through Jack as he leaned on his staff, studying the note Jamie had left behind on his bulletin board.
"DO NOT REMOVE THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT A TASTE OF MY SYSTEM TARGETING YOUR LAWN" was written in red pen at the top of the note.
Hello Jack,
If you're reading this, I'm either dead or about to die. Just kidding. I'm fine, just deployed in the Middle-East. I'm not sure you can survive over there, with all that heat and desert and sand, so I think it's best we skip this year. See you April next year.
Love, Jamie.
Yeah, there was no way he was skipping out this year. Jack left the house through the window and once again sped off to the North Pole. The bright light looked lonely out there in the Middle-East, where most people had never even heard of Jack Frost, even if the nights could get biting cold.
By the time Jack got there, though, it was the middle of the day and he was exhausted. The sun beat down heavily across his back and made him uncomfortable in his thick hoodie. The thin webs of ice that covered the blue material melted, but the moisture quickly evaporated in the unforgiving heat.
But he'd found Jamie. The man was busy typing on a laptop, shaded from the sun by dirty white canvas over his head. The sides were open. He used an icebox as a foot rest and balanced the laptop on his thighs.
Jack took a few moments to just observe the man. The scruff he'd developed in puberty had become a trimmed mustache and he was tan. Or maybe that was the sand, worming its way into every crease on his face. Sunglasses were propped on top of his head but even so he had to squint a bit to read the screen. Or maybe he was concentrating hard, because he hadn't even noticed Jack yet. The military uniform fit him well and Jack thought for a moment that Jamie should have forever stayed a kid, just like him. This man still held the same beliefs as the child, but Jack could also see the exhaustion in his eyes, the pain of being away from everyone he loved. Jack could protect kids, keep their wishes and joy safe. But he'd never be able to protect a grown man who was busy forging his own path through life.
He tiptoed over to Jamie, his bare feet making no sound on the sand. In the shade the temperature of the sand was at least bearable. He peered over the man's shoulder and read his own name on the screen. He took a few seconds to read the entire paragraph and a huge smile spread across his face.
"Aww, are you writing a book about me?" he asked. Jamie jerked, cursed and fumbled as the laptop slid from his thighs. He caught it just in time and saved it from a sandy grave.
"Jack! You came!" Jamie exclaimed, first in delight, but then he turned and looked at the Guardian. "What are you doing out here! It's way too hot for you!"
Jack waved his objections away. "If I can survive the embodiment of darkness and fear, I can survive a bit of heat."
Jamie put the laptop away and scooped Jack up into a hug which came a little too close to suffocation.
"How are you doing, Jack?" Jamie asked as he put the Guardian down. Jack staggered a bit before he regained his balance. "Want a cold one? It might help."
Jamie bent down and opened the icebox, placing two beers onto its surface. With expertise he popped them both open using the sole of his boot and handed one to Jack. A moment later he realized that Jack was essentially still a teenager. He hesitated for a second but Jack had already wrapped his hands around the blessedly cold drink.
"I'm fine, as always, doing some Guardian stuff, chasing a few polar bears, creating more snow storms than I probably should," Jack said. He looked around at Jamie's new home and pointed at a tent set up in the distance. "That yours?"
Jamie followed Jack's finger and shook his head. "Nah, that one's too luxurious to be mine. I bunk up with a bunch of other lowly E3's."
Jack had no clear picture how the hierarchy in the military worked, so he just nodded. When he'd flown over the camp he'd seen a bunch of white tents set up in neat rows with a few bigger tents at strategic intervals. Several hidey-holes, much like this canvas shade-generator, were scattered across the area where they kept the material. To their left stood two tanks and a couple of humvees, behind them a soldier was busy refueling a helicopter.
"Nothing lowly about a human Guardian," Jack retorted. "But tell me," he said, leaning closer, "were you really writing a story about me?"
Jamie nodded. He gestured at the laptop with the hand holding the beer. "Yeah. I figured that I'd get as many people believing in you as possible. So I started writing a book about Jack Frost, the Winter Guardian, and how he won against the Darkness. If that's alright."
Jack laughed out loud and did a little happy dance, finally twirling back into place and grinning at Jamie. "Are you kidding me? That's a brilliant idea! Thanks, Jamie!"
When Jack had been alive, books had been rare and valuable items. Over the course of the years books became a normal part of everyday life, but to him they would always remain slightly sacred. And now Jamie was going to write an actual, physical book about him! He had no doubt that the man would get the story published – Jamie's beliefs were solid and if he believed he could publish a book, he would find a way to do it.
Books weren't eternal, but they could survive a lot. As long as there was a book out there with Jamie's name on it, someone would find it and maybe believe in Jack Frost. It was a perfect idea.
"How'd you come up with it?" Jack asked. For some reason Jamie immediately sobered up and looked away.
"Yesterday... I realized that my life might be a lot shorter than I thought. And I know that more people believe in you now, so even if I kick the bucket, you'll remain visible to kids. Even so I want to help you in any way that I can. I've had this idea for a long time, but first I figured I'd start writing after my deployment. Now, I just want to write."
Jamie took a long pull and to his horror Jack saw tears brimming in Jamie's eyes.
"Jamie," he softly said, putting his staff aside and laying a hand on Jamie's shoulder. "What happened yesterday?"
"IED," Jamie curtly replied. "Took out my bud's humvee."
'And him with it,' Jack realized. Jamie took another long pull and pinched the bridge of his nose, keeping his eyes closed. He kept on talking though, his voice pained in ways Jack didn't wish upon anyone.
"So I figured, yeah, no time like the present to start on whatever I want. And I wanted to write about you, before it... before it's too late. Before I bleed out on the side of the road and before I have kids I can read bedtime stories to. Ben. Ben has kids. Had kids. So the moment I got back I started writing and didn't stop."
No wonder he had bags under his eyes and looked ready to keel over. Silently Jack put his slender arm around the broad shoulders of the soldier and let him cry for a bit.
"Thanks," Jamie finally said, righting his back and twisting his neck until something cracked. Jack picked his staff back up and on autopilot took a swig from the bottle still in his hands. He spluttered a few seconds later, not used to drinking and certainly not used to drinking alcohol. The bitter taste of beer spread across his tongue and Jack was glad he'd become Jack Frost before society expected him to drink the foul stuff.
"It's what I'm here for," Jack replied. Jamie chuckled weakly at Jack's reaction to beer and then looked critically at the Guardian.
"Jack, you look terrible!" he exclaimed. "You're sweating!"
Jack had noticed that as well, but he needed to be there for Jamie, so he'd disregarded his own discomfort. But now he noticed how the hoodie clung to his back and the drops of water decorating his temples. He felt dizzy and his tongue tasted weird.
"I'll be fine," he said. Jamie wasn't having any of that, though. The man kicked the icebox open and scooped out every beer he could find, leaving only the ice. With undeniable strength he picked Jack up and shoved him into the icebox, gathering handfuls of ice and burying the Guardian in it.
"Whoa, what are you-" Jack said in a belated reaction to the Shoving Thing. His legs hung awkwardly over the side and his staff lay next to the icebox.
"I told you not to come," Jamie said. "It's hot as hell out here and you're Jack Frost, not Jack Desert."
"I've never missed an anniversary," Jack argued back, "and I'm never gonna. You wanna go to the sun next year? Fine – I'll come visit in April. You're the first kid who ever believed in me and you're the best man who's ever believed in me. I'm going to come by every year."
"You make it sound like I'm haunted or something," Jamie said with a smile on his face. With the raging heat inside his body subsiding bit by bit Jack felt his head clear. He must be quite a sight, stuffed into an icebox, the beer all scattered around. If anyone came across Jamie right now they'd think he'd gone insane.
"OoOoOoh," Jack said, imitating a ghost, complete with wriggly fingers and all. "I'm the Ghost of Winter, here to... melt in the sun, I suppose."
"You kinda are," Jamie said. Jack felt he'd cooled down enough and attempted to get out of the icebox. When Jamie saw that Jack wanted up he lifted the scrawny teenager up in one fluid motion and put him back on his feet. "You died and came back as... someone not human. I mean, you can fly. Although I wouldn't mind dying if that means I get to fly."
The mention of death made sparks of pain fly in Jamie's eyes, but the relief of a good mourning cry held that emotion at bay for now.
Jack poked the tip of his staff into Jamie's chest. "Oh no, bud, you aren't going to die. Not for a long time. The only way I'd let you die was in your own bed at old age, with plenty of grandkids running around and piles of books you've written all around you."
"I can't promise I won't die," Jamie said. Jack hated how the man was so realist about his own life. People were supposed to promise they wouldn't die. They promised that they would find a way. But Jamie knew. He'd seen.
"I know," Jack said. Jamie allowed a few seconds of silence to hang between them before he kicked Jack into the air, literally. The offended Guardian turned around in mid-air and rubbed his backside.
"Go, get on out of here, before you melt completely. I'll see you next year."
"Yeah, I will," Jack said. "Have fun writing."
"Thanks," Jamie shouted after him when Jack sped upwards, heading for colder grounds. The Guardian wondered if the man would be alive next year, but he knew that Jamie held a relatively safe position. Then again, so had his buddy.
Jamie's deployment only lasted nine months, so the year after that Jamie was safely back on American soil and had earned medals and trophies and who knew what else. Important things to a soldier, since they showed his dedication, his courage and his loyalty to the country. The first thing Jamie showed Jack, though, was the letter from the editor he'd gotten.
"They're gonna publish it!" were the first words out of his mouth. He waved the letter up and down so fast that all Jack could make out was a letterhead and that the signature was written in blue ink.
"I know," Jack said with a grin. "More people are already believing – the editor's kids, I think." He grew a bit more serious - years of Guardianship had tempered him a little, although he still had a lot of fun doing his job. "Thanks, Jamie. I really owe you one."
Jamie shrugged and was finally calm enough to stop waving the letter around. "Hey, I just did what I could. And writing a children's book was something I can do to help you out. You deserve it, Jack, and you don't owe me … jack."
The Guardian smiled and motioned for them to go outside. Jamie, thanks to his military training, was now more than capable of pelting Jack with snowballs at a rapid speed. But Jack had the advantage of flight and experience, so every year it was a surprise how their tactical snowball fight would play out.
The only difference this year was that Jack felt far more believed in, so he let the guy win. After all, Jamie needed those fingers intact to write more stories. He wondered why he'd never come up with that idea. Maybe he could've been believed in from the beginning, as long as a single child read about him and thought him real.
He shook those thoughts off when a snowball hit him and then he was back in the game. For good.
Five years later Jack leaned back on the windowsill and let the words wash over him. "And then the Prince of Darkness leaned close to Jack and said," Jamie read out loud. He bent closer to his dark-haired daughter and whispered in her ear, "don't you want your memories, Jack?"
The child's brown eyes opened wide in indignation and she wriggled underneath the covers. "That's mean!" she said in her outdoor voice. Jamie chuckled.
"The Prince is mean. Really, really mean. But then Jack said-"
"I said, I do want them back, but first I need to save the Tooth Fairies," Jack butted in. The little girl, in her own words 'almost five years old', looked up and squealed in delight at the sight of the Guardian.
"Jack," Jamie said in greeting, holding the book out to him. "Want to do your part of the story?"
"Yes. Yes I do," Jack replied, settling at the foot of the bed and together with Jamie they spent an hour reading to Jamie's firstborn until finally exhaustion overtook her.
"She'll be tired tomorrow, but hopefully not too cranky," Jamie remarked as he put the books away. He tiptoed out of the room, Jack following behind far more silently.
"But it was worth it," Jack said. Jamie clapped him on the shoulder and shook his head.
"I don't know if you remember how whiny little girls can be, but either you've forgotten or we managed to spawn an extraordinarily whiny one. But trust me, when she's cranky, you'll know."
Jack chuckled and followed Jamie into the living room. "I hope you didn't have to search long to find our new home," Jamie said. Jack shook his head.
"Nah, by now I recognize your signature on the globe. Love the curtains, by the way."
They were blue, with snowflakes emblazoned on them. Jamie gestured at them. "Would you believe me if I say the previous owners left them behind? Because I dig your style, but no offense, but it's not... my style. We haven't gotten around to replacing them yet. I think the boxes and boxes of stuff we still have to unpack get more priority."
"Oh, I believe you," Jack said as he crashed on a makeshift couch made up entirely of boxes. He put up his feet on a box labeled 'Linen closet' and put his hands behind his head. "Congratulations on the bigger, better house. Also, where's your better half?"
Jamie carefully sat down besides Jack, leaning back against a box labeled 'Books, #5'. "She's out getting more screws to put our closets together. We can't find the proper ones, although I'm sure I packed them. You wouldn't happen-"
Jack twirled his staff in one hand and looked away. "I like to play pranks, sure, but even I won't hide screws on the night of your big move across state."
"Hm," Jamie replied. A second later his hand sneaked into Jack's hoodie pocket and he produced the little box of screws they'd been missing. "Knew it," he said.
Jack had the sense to look embarrassed. "Right. Sorry. Just wanted you for myself for an hour."
"And we spent almost that entire hour reading to my kid. You owe an apology to my wife... but I've missed you too, Jack."
That lit up Jack's entire face and the remaining time the two had together in privacy was spent on just talking about whatever. It was the first visit since Jacquelin's birth that the two men had been alone and they made the most of it. Because in twenty minutes a tired and disgruntled woman would show up, say hello to Jack and then proceed to berate him for hiding the screws.
It was a good evening.
It took a while for Jack to develop a sense how much he was believed in and what kid did and didn't believe. There were always places in the world where no kid believed in any Guardian. Even the Man in the Moon was unknown there, although a lot of cultures told myths surrounding the moon. The moon was the eye of a god, the sister of the sun, the biggest spirit fire of them all.
In the United States of America, especially the states were snow was a regular occurrence, there had always been a strong feeling of belief. Even so, when a certain believer began to falter, Jack could pick out who it was. Generally it was a kid growing up and becoming disillusioned with the world. There were a few special cases Jack paid attention to, like abusive households and orphans who were too young to stop believing.
When Jamie's belief began to fade away, Jack dropped everything he was doing and sped towards him, leaving North behind in a bewildered state.
With every passing minute Jamie faded more and more, spurring Jack into dangerous speeds. Finally he crashed through the window of a hospital room and came to a standstill against the far wall of the too white and too dead room.
He realized he was intruding on the domain of the Last Guardian, but he didn't care.
Jamie was hooked up to many monitors, some of them beeping, but all of them showing signs that he was still alive. The machines kept him alive, actually.
The moment Jack had crashed through the window he'd felt the man's belief spike before crashing lower than ever before.
"No no no no no..." Jack muttered, taking in the scene. Jamie seemed to have aged fifty years since Jack last saw him in April. The realization that Jamie was going to die had settled in when the first grey hairs appeared, many years ago. Jack hadn't lost Jamie to an IED, but he was going to lose him to old age.
The frail man that lay in bed was a far cry from the little kid that had spotted Jack for the first time in his (after) life. The muscles he'd developed in his military life had weakened, but the fire in his eyes remained.
"Jack," the man croaked in greeting. "Glad you came."
The Guardian walked up to his bedside, put his staff aside and clasped the man's hand in his own icy grip. Jamie squeezed back weakly, prompting Jack to sag onto the bed. By now he knew how he handled bad news – he became numb and preferred to find a cold place to curl up in.
He couldn't bring himself to talk. He had so much to thank the man for. He'd basically saved the world, but he never got any recognition for it. He was the one who'd breathed life into Jack's mythos and had made sure it became cemented into the general public's memory. Jack had become a proper Guardian... and now there was nothing he could do as he watched the man struggle to breathe.
"Did they call my family yet?" Jamie asked. Jack shook his head, not knowing the answer. But if he knew Jamie's family, and he did, they'd be racing down the highway.
"But they'll be here," Jack said. The numbness faded a little as it became apparent that the man wasn't going to die right away. Not until his kids and grandchildren had arrived. His wife had passed away two years ago.
"I-" Jack began, but Jamie interrupted him.
"It's alright, Jack. I've had a lot of fun in my life. It's just my time. Don't be sad. It doesn't fit you."
That speech already took a lot out of him and he breathed for a while. Jack kept hold of his hand and his thoughts raced faster than he'd done on his way to the hospital.
"You deserve better than this," he concluded.
He jumped up, grabbed his staff and hurried over to the window. He didn't feel the biting cold December wind as he flew out. The moon was half-full, but Jack knew that the Man was home.
"Hey!" he yelled. "You've got to make Jamie a Guardian! Or at least a spirit, like I was before!"
Since he became a Guardian, the Man in the Moon occasionally deigned to talk to him. This time a clear and resounding "No" bounced across the link.
"Why not?" Jack challenged. "He saved the world! We owe him so much and all I did was drop by and annoy him for one day a year... He deserves to live forever, like... like..."
Like the shells of spirits that held no more believers, and never would. Jack had been relatively young and had become a Guardian before his powers had withered, but he knew what happened to those who were unlucky. Eventually they faded out, until they became the things other spirits spotted out the corners of their eyes.
And Jack knew how terribly lonely it was to have no one to talk to, no one who acknowledged your existence. He knew that eventually it would happen to him, too. The world moved on and forgot about Easter and Christmas, about the cold nipping at your nose. Right now, though, he had to plea his case.
"We can't just ignore his strength! He's saved so many people, not just back when he was a kid, but when he was a soldier. I saved my sister and then you made me into a Guardian. I loved her, but she was one kid! Jamie kept his entire unit up and running. He... he can't die. Not yet."
"I know," the Man in the Moon replied. "But he gets to fly."
Jack hunched over as if he'd been punched in the gut. The numbness was back in full force and he couldn't breathe, there was just pain and loneliness in his future. It hurt to hover, it hurt to think, everything hurt all over as he slowly lost the first believer. Jamie wasn't going to see another sunrise, of that he was sure.
North dropped a heavy hand across Jack's shoulder. "Go to him," he said. When and how North had arrived, Jack didn't care. He had left the man behind in his office when he'd felt Jamie waver, and the man must have followed him. "It hurts to lose your first believer, trust me, I know. So go to him while you still can."
Good advice, as always. Silently Jack uncurled and drifted in through the window.
Jamie seemed to have deteriorated in the few minutes Jack had spent outside. When the Guardian once again appeared he perked up in what little ways he could.
"Tried to convince the Man to make me a Guardian?" he asked. Jack nodded, settling down at his bedside again. He was aware of the presence of the two other Guardians, but he shut them out for now. North kept vigil outside the room and Jack ignored the other one inside the room.
"You're gonna fly," Jack replied. "But not as a Guardian, or as a spirit."
Jamie smiled at that statement. "I'm gonna fly," he repeated, eyes glazing over. "As a human." He clenched his eyes shut until he could once again focus and tapped Jack on his leg.
"Don't be sad, Jack. It doesn't fit you."
"You already said that, Jamie," Jack reminded him. Jamie furrowed his brow in confusion.
"I did? Oh well. I had a lot of fun. I wrote a lot of books, and now I get to see Ellen again. You're gonna look out for my ghost, right?"
Jack nodded numbly, his guts still writhing in pain as if he'd just gone two rounds with Pitch, without his staff. He sensed that it was better to agree than explain that the domain of ghosts belonged to another Guardian, one he had ignored for a long time. He'd only had to deal with him once, and that had been three hundred years ago.
Jamie's breathing grew more irregular by the minute and he sank away more and more. But every time he woke and saw Jack, he reassured the Guardian that he'd had a lot of fun, and that Jack shouldn't be sad.
During a moment when Jamie was out of it Jack turned to the other Guardian in the room. "Could you please wait until his family has arrived?" he requested. The Last Guardian only gave the barest of nods, but it was a confirmation nonetheless.
A couple of minutes later five adults and eight children burst through the door. They looked haggard and three of the eight children still wore their pajamas, with only a thick coat thrown on. Jacquelin hadn't taken the time to change as well, she'd put a hoodie on and called it an outfit.
"Thanks, Jack, for staying with him," Jacquelin said. They all took post around the bed and the next time Jamie awoke he managed to beam at them. He jumbled up their names and thought that a grandchild should be a lot younger than he really was, but that didn't matter. He realized he was surrounded by loved ones.
The next time Jamie dropped off someone paged a nurse to call Facilities and find a window-cover. It was freezing inside the room, Jack was told. He felt no cold anymore, so he took their word for it.
The feeling of a believer fading away so gradually from up close was one of the worst ones Jack had ever experienced. And he'd literally died and had his powers stripped from him at one point. Jamie's unwavering belief now felt so scattered and weird, like he didn't know what was real and what wasn't. During his bouts of unconsciousness he had flashes of dreams or maybe memories, his neurons firing in random patterns, trying to keep the brain alive for that much longer.
A nurse stopped by, covered the window and asked for the adults to step outside for a moment. She made no mention of Jack, so he kept up his vigil on the side of the bed. When she returned, the adults filing in behind her, she began to disconnect some machines.
It all happened in a blur to Jack. A despair that seemed impenetrable had taken over Jack's mind and he watched Jamie breathe. His last moment of consciousness had been twenty minutes ago. There was bound to be another one. There had to be. He had to feel that strong sense of belief just once more.
Jamie's eyes fluttered, but then his breathing pattern sped up, verging on hyperventilation, and he sank down into unconsciousness once again. His hands became the same color as Jack's – blue and cold.
"He's not going to wake up anymore, is he?" Jack asked in a low voice. The Last Guardian shook his head. "How long is he going to keep on fighting?"
The Last Guardian always spoke with precious few words. It was the first time the two had spoken, actually. "One hour and sixteen minutes," the Last Guardian replied.
"Is he in pain?" Jack asked. The Last Guardian cocked his head and then nodded.
"He is uncomfortable, no true pain is present."
The adults and grandchildren looked confused from Jack to the empty spot at the back wall. Empty to them, that is. Jack saw the light glint off the scythe but refused to meet the Guardian's eyes.
He took a few moments to compose himself, but the third layer of his center reasserted itself. Courage.
"The guy you know as Death is in the room," he said, addressing the family. "And he's said that Jamie will die in one hour, and he's not going to wake back up anymore. He can end this early, so Jamie won't have to suffer. You're the family – you decide."
"Do it," a man immediately replied. One by one, others nodded. No one questioned Jack about Death's presence or his existence. They all knew Jack, had seen that he was a Guardian. The fact that the Last Guardian was alive was not shockworthy news right now.
"Bye, Jamie," Jack simply said. He moved back and turned away when the Last Guardian approached with his scythe. North was there to buffer him and Jack hated how the heart monitor stopped all of a sudden. Pain crashed over him in waves threatening to overtake him completely. He cried out and then knelt down on the floor, head pressed to the ground. One of Jamie's grandchildren rubbed his back and tried to talk to him, but all Jack heard was that monitor until a blessed someone turned it off.
One by one the children and grandchildren Jamie had fathered with Ellen said their goodbyes. Some of the kids had to be explained what had just happened, or even what death was. It all went past Jack – he knelt and was numb to the entire world. Nothing pierced through the inner turmoil the loss of his first believer had brought on.
When the last human had left the room North scooped Jack up and took him home.
On that day in April Jack set off from his room in North's palace and flew all the way out to the graveyard. True to his word, the Last Guardian was there. Jack wondered how that worked – the Easter Bunny and North had complained enough times about how hard they had to work on Easter and Christmas, and how much time it took to deliver the presents and/or eggs on a single day.
So how could a single Guardian deal with death? It happened every second, all over the world.
That was not the question burning on his tongue, though. It didn't matter, anyway. The Last Guardian had found a way, otherwise people and rats and lichen would find themselves inexplicably alive after a forest fire or a car accident or a mouse trap.
"Did the Man in the Moon make Jamie a spirit?" he asked. To his relief, the Last Guardian shook his head. Jack briefly closed his eyes and mentally thanked the Man. He knew not to ask what happened to human souls – the Last Guardian never answered that question. When the Man in the Moon asked him to bring a certain soul back to act as a spirit, he did. But no one ever said where he got the souls from.
"Thanks for taking the time to answer my question," Jack said. "I bet you're a very busy Guardian."
The Last Guardian shrugged. "It's hard to lose a first believer," he said. "I know." There was a smile on his face as his eyes glazed over, probably thinking back about his first believer. "I'll leave you to your visit," he said. The next second, he was gone. Jack didn't have time to protest, but right behind the Last Guardian lay the grave he'd come for. He sat down next to it and began talking.
It was awkward at first, talking to a stone monument which would never talk back, but Jack had had a lot of practice with talking to himself / inanimate objects / humans not responding to his presence. He told Jamie about the things he'd done in the past year, that he missed him, that Jamie had been a very positive force in his life and that little Paige was doing well in school. It was a jumble of updates, reminiscing and it was a relief for Jack to talk to Jamie as if he was still here.
As he kept on talking, he knew two things. One was that he'd come here every April and keep Jamie up to date on his family, no matter how many descendants he had. And two was that Jack would forever keep wondering who Death's first believer had been.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Since I'm ESL, I'm very open to any remarks about grammar, vocabulary and sentence structure. And of course reviews concerning the story itself.