"I can't read."
North blinks, pausing in mid-step. He turns to face the younger Guardian.
"What is your meaning, you cannot read?"
Jack makes the pointed effort to look at everything except North. He shrugs.
"I can't read. I never learned to."
"But, Jack! You have been around for 300 years!"
He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "Look, okay. I was more interested in keeping kids out of school instead of putting myself in. It wasn't like I needed to read or write. What was I gonna do? Write a letter to you?"
North flinches, rubbing the back of his neck. "Jack, I…"
The boy sighs, shoulders slumped as he turns away. "Look, it's no big deal, big guy. But uh, I can't be much of a help. Sorry."
He hops unto a window sill and takes off before North could call him back.
Jack had been called over to the Pole. North needed an extra set of hands, preparing for the upcoming Christmas. As if Santa, with his small army of Yetis, would need any actual help. Jack figured it was an excuse to spend time together, that team bonding experience North was crazy for. But he had nothing better to do and he's always been fascinated by the big guy's workshop. So, he went. He thought he'd just be floating around, maybe testing out the toys, see if they're 'fun' enough. That sort of deal, maybe bond over a hot cup of cocoa.
North surprised him, funny how he always could. He clapped Jack on the shoulder and ushered him into his office, decidedly away from the workshop floor. There was paper plastered everywhere and Jack soon realized it was really one long, unbroken list. Three guesses which list and the first two don't count.
"I want you to check over naughty and nice list." North boomed in his usual cheery manner. "I have been in tiny office for too long. My eyes hurt from reading. I thought you could help. Fresh eyes are better at finding mistakes. Also, I am tired of tiny office. I need to stretch my legs. You understand, yes?"
"Um…" Jack started.
But North cuts in with his heavy laugh. "Good, good! I leave list in good hands."
He ruffled Jack's hair and moved to leave when Jack calls after him.
"Wait, big guy! I can't do this!"
"Sure, you can! I believe in you!" North merrily waved over his shoulder. He was half out the door before Jack spoke again.
"I can't read."
And now, Jack finds himself soaring over New Brunswick. He kicks himself for leaving North in such a hurry. The big guy must think Jack hates him or something. Like Jack or anybody could hate on North. He was Santa, for crying out loud. Every kid's favorite holiday spirit. Oh sure, Bunny will kick up a fuss but hard boiled eggs don't hold a candle to the toys Santa makes. And Jack knows this from personal experience, well at least, now he does.
There was a time after the battle with Pitch, when Jack just sort of hunkered down and remembered. He tried to remember every fuzzy scrap of memory his brain had locked away. And he remembered fireplaces and bedtime stories. He remembered house chores and Yuletide feasts. He remembered his little sister. She used to squeal every time he played a trick on her. He could remember her laughter so perfectly, he could almost hear it.
It left a hollow where his heart should be. It was a longing that ate at his very bones. He wanted to see his sister again. He wanted to crawl into his Mom's lap like he used to. He wanted good night kisses and sweet dream wishes and a family to hold him tight because - ! Because he was falling apart. He was splintered ice and melting snow and soon, there will be nothing left of him but mist.
Tooth said he was mourning. He had visited her just to see how she was doing. They ended up talking about memories and past lives. He told her everything. It all just bubbled up from nowhere and spilled out his lips. Everything, just everything, from his little sister to the 300 years of trying and failing and trying and failing but never once being seen. It all just gushed out like a dam burst somewhere and there was no stopping it. Tooth took it all in stride.
She had slapped him. In his fit and in his fury, he froze the little oasis by the mural. He had raged, raged over the life he lost, over the family he forgot, over the immortality he never asked for. The oasis turned into a veritable Siberia. When he near exhausted himself, Tooth slapped him. She slapped him hard across the cheek.
"Are you back with me, Jack?" She had asked. "Are you done?"
He had nodded numbly.
"Oh, good. I was worried I'd have to take drastic measures."
Then gently, carefully, almost as if she was afraid he'd break, she led him to shore. They sat on the bank for what felt like forever, just listening to the hum of busy tooth faeries.
"I'm sorry." He finally said. "I didn't mean to - !"
Tooth placed her finger on his lips, shushing him. "It's okay, Jack. I understand. You're mourning."
He blinked.
Tooth giggled, lifting her finger. "Sure, you made a mess but it's nothing permanent. It's okay. You needed that. You had lost something you can never get back. And it hurt. It's perfectly normal to grieve. Everyone does at some point."
"Even you, Tooth?" He asked. "Did you mourn?"
Tooth looked down, a smile curled in the corner of her lips. She spoke not a word, merely laid her hand over his.
There was a bout of silence before she whispered. "It is a gift and a burden, Jack. It is eternity and infinity and it is ours to shape it as we see fit."
She met his curious gaze and smiled true, pearly white and wide. "We're here now, Jack. We're here now. You're going to be okay."
Jack swallowed. His chest constricted, the gaping hollow of a heart knitting back together, sinew by sinew. He curled his fingers around Tooth's hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the knuckles.
"Thank you, Tooth."
It still hurt to think about his memories. Even now, his chest twinged and tightened. Every family reminded him of his. He'd see a brother set his sister on his shoulders and he'd remember he used to do that with his little sister. But it was getting better now. He was getting better now.
He lands in some abandoned park. The swing set was rusted over, the slides were falling apart. There were weeds growing everywhere. He sits on one of the creaking swings. North must be so disappointed. He could've handled that better. It just, well, it just wasn't something he liked to admit. It was 300 years that could've been spent better, he supposed. He just never had a particular thirst for knowledge. And the one time he had written, well, it didn't end well.
It had been one of his more desperate moments. He had just woken up. It must've been a few weeks or so. He had retained all the abilities from the past life he didn't even know he lived. He could still walk, talk, and he still had the ability to write his name. It was the only thing he knew how to write. Now, he knew why.
It was the very first thing his Father taught him, said it was the most important thing for a feller to know. Theirs was a small settlement, not even fifty people. They couldn't afford a school. And even though all the grown villagers were educated, they were frontier folk. They were more concerned with eking out a living than reading, writing, and arithmetic. But his Father was going to teach him. Jack was going to be a learned man and do his Father proud. They just never got around to it, and all Jack ever learned was his name.
But back then, he didn't know any of that. Those bleak early weeks trying to come to terms with his nonexistence, drawing attention was all he cared for. He didn't care how he knew to spell his name, all that mattered was he could. So he wrote his name on a frosted window, all the windows of every villager's house.
The poor villagers got scared something awful. Thinking about it now, those villagers probably knew him in life. It explained why they summoned for a holy man to exorcise their town. They thought they were being haunted. Well, they were kind of right. But it made a real mess out of things. The poor village jumped at every noise and winced at every sudden movement. One family even packed up and left. That had probably been his family.
The guilt over the incident drove him to travel away from the village. He had thought maybe, just maybe he could be seen in another place by another people. But he never wrote again. Not after that, he couldn't make another mess like that again.
"And somehow, I still made a mess of things."
"Don't you always, mate?"
Jack whirls around and finds Bunny, arms crossed and looking fairly unamused.
"How do you always find me?" He wonders out loud.
"Easy. I find an accident and follow the trail of chaos from there. It's worked so far."
Jack rolls his eyes and turns away. "Did North send for you?"
"Newsflash, kiddo. We're not your babysitters. You can storm off in a huff and none of us are gonna come running after you. I mean, you're a Guardian for crying out loud. Everyone knows you can handle yourself just fine."
"Did you tell that to the big guy?"
There was a huff followed by padded footsteps. The swing beside him creaks as Bunnymund settles in it.
"Wouldn't hear a word of it. Whatever you did, you really sent him off in a tizzy. So whaddya do?"
"It's more what I didn't do." Jack shrugs. "Look, Bun. It's not important. You can go tell North I'm fine."
"Oi, oi, oi. I ain't your personal messenger. Go tell him yourself."
"I just don't want to see him, okay?"
"Yeah, real mature of you, Jack. See, here's the deal, I don't care what's going on between you and North. That's your business. All I care is that you pull your pretty face out of your behind or so help me. I'll pull it out for you."
Jack swings him a smug look, an eyebrow raised. "You think I have a pretty face?"
"It won't be for long if you keep this up." Bunnymund snorts, not missing a beat.
Jack sighs, standing up. "Yeah, I guess I gotta face the music sometime. Better now than later."
Bunnymund groans, shaking his head. "Moments like these painfully remind me that you're still a kid yourself."
"Hey!" Jack protests.
"You're a tragedy and a half, you know that?" Bunny hops to his feet.
Jack shoots him a puzzled glance. "What?"
Before he could say another word, Bunnymund thumps his foot on the ground and opens up a tunnel beneath them both. One high-speed slide later and Jack finds himself standing in North's workshop once more.
"Bunny! You found him!" North greets jovially.
They're at the hearth beside the giant model of Earth. North stands by the fireplace, arms wide open in welcome.
"Yeah, yeah. I told you I'd find him. You owe me one, Nick." Bunnymund huffs, leaning against a post.
"Yes, yes I know. I am old not senile." North shakes his head, placing his hands on his hips. He turns to Jack. "And how are you, Jack?"
"Fine. No change since you last saw me a couple hours ago." Jack smiles sheepishly. "Sorry about that by the way. I didn't mean to make you worry or anything."
"No, no it's okay. I should've known better." North shakes his head.
Jack rolls his eyes. "How? There was no way you could've known I can't read."
"You can't read!" Bunny bursts out. "Is this what the whole hullabaloo is about?"
Jack winces, rounding on the Pookah. "Oh yeah, you're still here. Why are you still here?"
"After all that fuss, I might as well see what's this on about. I got curious, mate."
"You do realize curiosity killed the cat, right?"
Bunny narrows his eyes and leans in. "I'm a bunny."
Jack smirks, turning back to North. "Really? Of all the people you could've sent after me, you sent Bunny."
North lifts his shoulders. "The Yetis are in final preparation. Sandy was sleeping. Tooth is always busy. I figured Easter won't be for awhile."
"Oi, my holiday takes just as much preparation as yours." Bunnymund breaks in.
North shoots him an unimpressed stare. "You paint eggs."
"Billions of them!" Bunnymund retorts.
Jack shakes his head. "Shouldn't you be leaving then?"
"Nah, now I gotta see where this goes." Bunnymund smirks. "So, you can't read, eh Jackie?"
Jack glares at him, zapping Bunnymund right on the nose. The Easter spirit yelps and pulls back, rubbing the feeling back in his schnauzer.
"Ah! But soon he will!" North declares.
Jack blinks, brows furrowing. "I will?"
"Yes! Right after Christmas, we will begin lessons!"
"But there's really no point. Don't you have something better to - oof!" Jack feels a sharp elbow dig in his ribs. He glares at the offender.
Bunnymund, still rubbing his snout, huffs. "You do know he's not gonna let this go no matter what. You might as well go along with it. Besides, you have nothing better to do."
Jack scowls at him but remains silent. He looks down at his feet, toeing the intricately decorated floor, and he thinks. All he remembers of his father were his hands. They were wide, weather worn, and heavy. When he was really small, they used to be the size of his face. But he remembers that night, sitting by the fire side with a piece of parchment on the floor. Parchment was very hard to come by in their parts and precious too. Still, his Pappy had put one to use. He remembers the flickering flames dancing on the paper, his father's sausage of a finger pointing out the characters on the page.
"See, Jack? This is your name."
He swallows and looks up at North. North, perennially smiling and ever expectant North who believed in him, who always did. His Pappy must've looked at him like that.
He huffs out a laugh. "Alright, I mean. I'd love to learn. If it's not too much trouble."
North reaches over and claps Jack's shoulder. His hand is heavy, warm, and worn from years and years of toy making. "Jack, you will never be a burden to us. Ever. Do you understand?"
"Yeah, mate." Bunnymund joins, arms crossed with a cock-sure grin. "You're one of us now and we take care of our own."
"I know we have failed you in the past, Jack. But if possible, we make up for it now. You will never be alone again. Is that sounding good?"
Jack feels his chest stitch close just an inch more. He nods. "Yeah, sounds good."