Hello, ModernDayBard here! After watching NBC's 'Peter Pan Live!' and thinking about the movie Rise of the Guardians, the idea for this fic just sort of popped into my head.
There will be three chapters posted in four-day increments, so this, my little Christmas gift to my readers, will finish up on Christmas Eve! (All other stories will still be updated on their regular schedule.)
As a side note, this will be based on the play/musical Peter more than the book one, as I've seen the stage play more than I've read the book. Anyway, the play was actually written first. Of course, I own neither Peter Pan nor the Guardians.
Jack Frost perched outside the theater, watching with a mild sense of pride as his young friend, Jaimie, made his theatrical debut. The local high school was performing the musical Peter Pan, and had needed two young boys to fill the roles of Wendy's little brothers. Jaimie was playing John, and doing a good job of it, as far as Jack could tell.
The Guardian of Fun was grateful that this performance was the school's 'winter show' so that he didn't feel guilty about dropping by to watch—it wasn't like he was here in the spring or summer when he should be making a blizzard somewhere else!
As the narrative unfolded, Jack amused himself by trying to picture what Peter would be like, if his story was true…
"…but again—"
"—you might not remember."
"Where's the good in remembering?..."
"…Peter, how old are you?"
"I'm not exactly sure—see, I ran away the day I was born…"
"…and all the seasons are on different parts of the island, all at the same time! Except for winter, there's no winter there..."
"…'Cause growing up is awful-er than all the awful things that ever were—I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up: no sir!..."
"…When I went home, I thought that certainly someone would leave the door or window open wide for me…But the door was barred, and the window barred, and I knew with an awful dread that somebody else—some other boy—was sleeping in my bed…."
"…Pan, what are you?"
"I am youth. I am joy. I am freedom! …"
It was certainly an interesting exercise, a fun little game for a moment's diversion, but all too soon the show was over, and Jack knew it was time to go. Floating over to a window that he knew Jaimie would see, Jack touched it, covering it in frost, then outlining an Easter egg, like he had the first time Jaimie had seen him, leaving the design as a calling card to let the young boy know that his friend had come, just as he had promised. That done, Jack was about to take off and get back to work when he noticed something…odd.
From another of the theater's window, a slight form the Wintersmith hadn't noticed before suddenly took flight, a small flickering light following it with the sound of—were those bells?
Curiosity duly aroused, Jack silently followed, in time to hear a young boy's voice say with a touch of arrogance, "…pretty decent version, I'd say. Of course, no one they get to play me is ever as good as the real thing, eh, Silver Bloom?"
"I thought her name was Tinker Bell?" Jack said before he caught himself, pulling alongside the figure. It turned out to be a boy around Jaimie's age, with a shock of dirty-blond hair and startling green eyes. The clothes he was wearing were well-worn but still reminiscent of—if not exactly like—the ones the actor playing Pan had been wearing in the play.
The boy glanced over casually, answering almost before he looked. "Tink's long gone, I'm afraid. I don't exactly remember when she left. Silver Bloom's my fairy now."
The boy suddenly seemed to realize that he was speaking to someone—an actual person—who was flying alongside him. With a half-startled, half-defiant expression, the stranger picked up speed, angling away from Jack.
His questions now gnawing too much to be ignored, Jack followed in hot—er, cold—pursuit.
Jack had to admit—the strange boy was fast, even without the winter wind on his side. He was agile, to, quickly changing directions and dodging around tree branches, lampposts, and electrical wires like he'd been flying for years—centuries even.
Could he really be—Jack didn't let himself finish the thought, it was just too outlandish. The boy wasn't normal, but that didn't automatically mean he was the subject of the musical. Even if he claimed he was.
The Guardian of Fun was never more than a few feet behind the swiftly soaring form and the little light which seemed to have grabbed hold of the muddy green tunic. But for all his effort, he couldn't quite catch the darting figure. Part of the Wintersmith wondered if he was only allowed this close as a form of taunting.
He didn't much like that thought.
Desperate now not to lose, Jack resulted to a petty trick: flying low an scooping up enough snow from the ground for a (normal) snowball, which he threw with his usual accuracy at the figure far in front.
With a startled yelp, the strange boy tumbled from the air into a snow drift. Slightly embarrassed, but unable to suppress as slight thrill of triumph, Jack landed at the top of the drift, watching as the green- and brown-clad stranger scrambled out of the cold bank, spitting out snow and glaring at Jack with indignant green eyes.
"That's not fair!" the voice of a young boy exclaimed at last, and the Guardian of Fun remembered those same words—in nearly the same inflection—from the musical.
"Lighten up," he managed at last. "I just wanted to talk. Who are you?"
The petulant expression didn't fade. "Can't you tell? You did watch that play—right?"
"You're Peter Pan?" Jack shook his head. Despite all the talk of 'never growing up', he'd still pictured that Pan would be a little bit older.
Green eyes still glared as Peter crossed his arms. "Of course I am. Who are you supposed to be?"
"I'm Jack Frost—wait, if you've never heard of me, you can't believe in me. How can you see me, then?" The realization reinforced his earlier suspicions, back when they were hypothetical musings: Peter wasn't entirely human. After all, one didn't simply stop aging by sheer will power alone.
"I don't have to have met someone to believe in them. I never grew up, or did you miss that part?" Peter's expression finally changed, to one of grudging respect. "You fly pretty well, for a grown-up."
"I'm not a grown up! …I'm the Guardian of Fun." Jack had been about to say "I never got the chance to grow up," but something stopped him, some sense that he shouldn't go into his story—not yet. "I-I bring winter, games, laughter—that sort of thing."
Silver Bloom finally pulled herself free of the drift she'd been stuck in since Pan's crash-landing and flew up to the tow-headed boy's shoulder. Jack couldn't see more than the light around the fairy's figure, but thanks to Baby Tooth, he'd learned to understand at lest the tone, if not words, of fairy speak. He guessed the little pixie was chiding her boy having forgotten her in the cold—verily angrily chiding, at that.
Peter didn't seem to listen, which Jack figured wasn't doing anything for the fairy's ill-temper. "Oh, you're one of the guardians that protect kids like me? Wish you could do something about the other becoming grown-ups, but I suppose you're all a bit too grown-up yourselves for that."
Jack knew that was an insult from this strange boy, and he bristled slightly. "Yes, we're actually mature enough to put their good above what we want—"
"Whatever," Peter mumbled, beginning to rise out of the snow, now looking quite bored. "The Lost Boys will be wondering where I've been, and I can't very well tell them I've been talking to an adult."
With that, he took off. The Wintersmith was half-tempted to follow again, but some instinct told him that it wouldn't be the best move. He was still curious about the 'eternal child', and had some questions, but something about the timing wasn't right. Besides, with his current attitude, Pan wouldn't be likely to listen to him, anyway.
With a disappointed sigh, Jack took to the sky, heading in the opposite direction, hoping a long flight through the brisk air would improve his mood.
Only a few days later, Peter returned to the same park the chance had ended in, watching intently as Jack led some kids in a snowball fight. Most of the kids seemed able to see him, and all were laughing and enjoying themselves, but one brown-haired boy in particular seemed to be sticking pretty close to Jack.
For once, however, the eternal child wasn't really watching the other children, nor was he tempted to join in the fun. All his attention was focused on the Guardian of Fun, the reason Pan had come back.
As much as the taller, older boy had annoyed Peter, the Lost Boys' chief couldn't deny that he was curious about the stranger. For all his grown-up tendencies, this Jack Frost was the best flier Pan had ever met—next to himself, of course. There was also something…familiar about the boy with white hair. Peter suspected that he'd met him once, and then forgotten him, as he tended to do. Why then, had Jack been surprised to see him and find out who he was?
Whatever the answers, finding them was sure to be an adventure, and Peter Pan never backed down form an adventure! Besides, contrary to what he'd let on when he'd flown off in a huff, there weren't any Lost Boys in Neverland at the moment. That would surely change soon, but for now, Peter wanted a distraction, and what better distraction than an adventure?
That was why he now crouched in a tree at the edge of the park, out of sight of the children, without Silver Bloom, who was still angry about the snow drift incident. As the sun began to go down, the game ended, and the participants all drifted reluctantly to their respective homes, except for the brown-haired boy standing next to Jack.
"Thanks for the snow day, Jack! And thanks for coming to the play. Will you be sticking around?"
"I'm sorry Jaimie," Jack said, looking honestly apologetic. "I've had a lot of fun this week, and I'll be back after Christmas, but I need to check in on winter around the world, bring some other kids snow days, too. But keep an eye out—I'll be around. Now you better get home before your mom starts to worry. And say 'hi' to Sophie for me."
With a wave and a disappointed expression, Jaimie ran off, leaving Jack the only person in the park—except for Peter, of course. This was what the eternal child had been waiting for. Deciding to return Jack's 'favor' from the other night, Pan jumped down, formed a snowball, and threw it –hard—at the white-haired Wintersmith.
Jack turned, startled and a little angry, then confused when he saw Peter waving and grinning impishly. Without leaving his rival time to recover, Pan took to the sky, making sure to go slow enough for Jack to follow.
Before long, Peter was flying full speed and having to execute a lot of sharp turns and sudden unexpected maneuvers just to maintain his lead. It was just like the last time: he was racing against an expert flier, not someone he was trying to teach. The sheer novelty of it, made a laugh bubble up in his chest, and he let it out, rolling onto his back as he dove towards the ground, pulling up sharply and flying in a loop jut for the fun of it.
Looking down, he was startled to see Jack flying just below him, keeping up easily now, a daredevil grin on the older boy's face that Peter knew matched his own. Without any words necessary, the two switched from chasing each other to showing off, laughing and playing as the winter sky darkened and the Sandman went about his nightly duties.
"I guess you're not like the other fussy old Guardians after all," Peter declared at last as the two boys had stopped their game and come to rest in the branches of the tree Peter had started that afternoon.
"Uh, thanks," Jack managed at last, giving his strange companion a sideways glance. "But they aren't as bad as you think. In a fight, there's no one I'd rather have on my side."
Peter snorted. "That's nothing—you should see me fight pirates or Indians!"
"I'll take pirates over Nightmares any time."
"Nightmares?" Peter sensed a story. He figured it wasn't a story about him, but maybe he would make an exception this one time. After all, it might answer some of his questions about why the Guardian of Fun still seemed…familiar.
The Wintersmith didn't disappoint, telling the younger boy the story of how he discovered his destiny as a Guardian and helped North, Tooth, Sandy, and Bunny defeat Pitch Black—the Boogey Man himself. He felt the tow-headed figure beside him regarding him with more respect, but he didn't meet those vibrant green eyes—he realized he'd unintentionally left in the part about learning the truth of his own life before.
"You died? And that's when you became Jack Frost…" Peter trailed off, caught up in his own thoughts. Jack wasn't sure what the Lost Boys' chief would say next, but he was still caught off-guard when Pan did speak. "I always thought that dying would be a very big adventure. Guess you found out before I did. Do you think I'd become a Guardian of something if I died?"
Jack's suspicions that had been growing since the night of the musical caught in his throat, and looking into those excited, trusting, young eyes, he just couldn't bring himself to raise the possibility, however likely it seemed. Peter shrugged; obviously having missed Jack's trapped expression and perhaps already forgotten the conversation.
"I've got to get back before Silver Bloom decides to sulk forever. So, if I wanted to race you again, I just need to look for winter?"
Jack had to laugh at that, doing his best to also forget his melancholy theories. "You could, but it's a pretty big area to search right about now. But if you apologize to Silver Bloom, she might be able to help you. Fairies always seem to be able to find me." It was true, as he had discovered whenever Baby Tooth turned up in the oddest of places. At least he got some privacy when she went back to help Tooth. Who knew having a fairy as a fan could get so tiresome at times?
As Peter flew off, Jack suddenly realized that, sometime that afternoon, a change had occurred that he'd been expecting even less than the answers to his questions—he'd become friends with Peter Pan.
"…so all the Guardians lived lives that embodied the very things that they now protect in children, so after they died, the Man in the Moon made them what they are now?"
About two weeks and five encounters after their first conversation in the tree, Peter finally had started asking the questions that Jack had feared most. The eternal child seemed determined to understand the Guardians, and the Wintersmith knew that soon, there'd be no hiding what he feared was the truth from his young friend.
"That's right."
"And there are others who aren't official Guardians?"
"Well," Frost began, choosing his words carefully, "yes. Like how I was around for 300 years before the fight with Pitch; or, you know, people like the Groundhog, Cupid, or whoever is the spirit of Halloween. North thinks there might even be other seasonal spirits, like me, though we haven't encountered any."
"And they all were someone else too? And died?" Pan had been flying, but now he settled on the lamppost next to Jack. Perhaps his thoughts weren't pleasant enough to keep him airborne? "And you can be the Guardian of pretty much anything?"
"Pretty much: Fun, Memories, Hope, Wonder, Dreams, Love…Childhood itself."
That stopped Peter, who'd begun to take flight again, and he turned to his older friend, bright green eyes boring into clear blue ones. "Wait, what?"
Jack had made his decision not to hold back anymore, and there was no turning back now. "Peter, I think…I think you're a potential Guardian, too: the Guardian of Youth."
"You think I'm dead? I think even I'd remember if I'd died!"
"Peter, calm down! Look, if you just think about it, it explains so much. You told me most of that musical was true, that Wendy had written the story and passed it down." Now that he'd started talking, Jack didn't know how to stop, and he found himself rambling, talking faster and faster with more and more intensity. "If you were a Guardian spirit, it would explain so much: why you don't age, even when the other Lost Boys do; why your memory isn't that great (believe, mine wasn't either); why Hook keeps coming back, no matter how many times you defeat him; your answer to the question he asks, and why he keeps asking the same question—he's an echo, I think, caught replaying his story—and why the window was closed when you went—"
"STOP IT!" Peter screamed, launching into the air and fly several yards from Jack. "It's not true—it can't be! I don't believe it. I don't grow up because I don't want to! I don't remember because what's the good in remembering? And Hook—" Pan faltered, then shook his head vehemently. "Who cares about Hook? He's a codfish! And the window—the window was closed because—because my mother—because my mother forgot me!"
Jack tried to fly over to him. "She didn't Peter. No mother ever would—"
"SHUT UP!" The distraught boy screamed again. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" With that, he took off for Neverland at top speed.
Jack sadly watched him go. He wouldn't follow, he felt to guilty about the anguish he'd caused the eternal child to feel (besides, Pan had never showed him where Neverland actually was). Still, Jack firmly believed that, accept it or not, Peter Pan was the Guardian Spirit of Youth.
Jack was sure now that he'd made a big mistake in telling Peter his theories. The Guardian of Fun hadn't seen his young friend since he'd flow off, despite searching everywhere in his wintery domain. Jack supposed he could have tried searching elsewhere, but he didn't want the other Guardians to wonder why he was shirking his duty. Besides, he had a promise to keep.
So, reluctantly, the Wintersmith returned to Jaimie's hometown. Whenever the kids were around, especially Jaimie, Jack tried to pretend that everything was fine, joining in the games with his usual gusto. But now even Jaimie seemed to serve as a reminder of a certain tow-haired boy somewhere out there, desperate to believe that he was still alive.
Jack had almost given up—almost accepted Peter's avoidance of him as some kind of punishment for hurting the younger boy—when he felt someone watching him from a tree on the edge of the park. Glancing up from the snowball fight Jaimie had organized (likely the last one of the year, it was time for winter to move on), Jack thought he saw a flicker of movement in the impossibly high branches, perhaps even a flash of blond hair.
He hardly dared to hope, but since the kids were all filing back to their houses for dinner, the Wintersmith decided to investigate. He flew up to the tree—the same one from their first real conversation, all those weeks before, he realized—to see Peter waiting for him. There was no sign of Silver Bloom, and the younger boy's green eyes had a determine glint in them that Jack realized was Peter bracing himself to face something he was afraid of.
"I want to know," he said at last, "if you're right. I don't know—maybe you are, and I've forgotten my big adventure. I'd like to remember it, if there was a way. Can I remember the way you did?"
Jack felt a weight slipping off his shoulders. "If anyone can help you, it's Tooth. Follow me!"
With that, the two boys took to the air, Jack Frost leading the way to the Tooth Fairy's palace, determined to help his friend uncover the truth.
So, there you have it: chapter one of my first cross-over fic! I hope you all enjoy this little Christmas treat. If you like it, or if you see something I can improve on, don't hesitate to leave a review!