Chapter 1 –

ROSS

For three hundred years Frosty and I stayed together. He was my partner, my friend, my only family apart from the Man on the Moon (who I barely knew from Adam and who probably didn't give a shit about me). I had lied when I had told Jack that Manny had asked me for a favor. It was stupid, I know, but the poor kid just looked so pathetic and alone. Exactly how I had felt when I'd popped into existence a hundred fifty seven years before we met. He wasn't like a brother. Someone that cool and mischievous and downright amazing could never be my brother. Not ever. So I just decided to keep it at 'best friend' instead of walking into unfamiliar territory.

Still, after three hundred years of hanging around the Spirit of Winter, you kind of get to know him. A lot. And not just things like how he never eats or what towns he likes to habit during the winter months – but things like what gets him angry or sad or happy. It was weird. I mean, I'm no therapist, but I definitely did a better job than anyone else at comforting him (in the most manly way possible, of course) when he woke up screaming from nightmares of a past he couldn't remember. Is that what you classify as a best friend?

For a while it was tense and weird living with another person – especially one that seemed almost a step below me when it came to maturity – so sometimes we didn't get along. I mean, come on, we were both 'young' and we didn't really get what it meant to share or to balance our powers out while we were together. Sometimes we got so irritated at each other that we would fight for hours and come out of it with black eyes and satisfaction. Because come on, that testosterone had to go somewhere.

And in some ways I guess he did sort of look at me like an older brother (ouch, you have no idea how much it hurts to admit that) and there would be weird questions and freak out sessions when he woke up in the morning with his nether regions 'reacting'. And I'd have to break it to him that 'hey, we're stuck with eternal puberty, so get over it and stop waking me up at one in the morning.'

Other than that, things were usually pretty normal. There was this one incident though, something that happened in Easter of '68, but I'll skip the details in favor of telling you outright that shit basically just hit the proverbial fan. Jack was about two hundred something years old and I didn't figure out until later, when he came home covered in dirt and snow and scratches, like he'd gotten into a scuffle with someone, that he had basically ruined Easter for Bunny – one of the Guardians. And boy was that Kangaroo Bunny pissed. But I got back at him for sort of, kind of hurting Jack by stealing half of his supply of eggs and replacing them with illusions. The next Easter, all he ended up with was eggs that mysteriously disappeared for most of the world.

He would never have suspected a thing if the Tooth Fairy hadn't opened her big mouth and said something about the Prince of Thieves. And yeah, I admit it, I'm naughty. What can I say? I almost hold a longer record on the Naughty List than even Jack Frost, and that's saying something. But that didn't mean I wanted her to go and rat me out.

Geez, for being the Guardians of childish joy, they sure didn't give the immortal kids any slack.

So there I was, right after Easter of '69, trying to breathe properly as he held me against a tree with both paws on my throat. He wasn't really trying to kill me, I don't think, but at the time it sure seemed like it. And he did squeeze a little harder than necessary.

"What in the bloody hell did you do to my eggs!?" he hissed.

"I'm the Prince of Thieves, mate. What do you think I did with them?" I replied, smirking (though my amusement was somewhat lessened when his paws tightened on my skin). Yikes, that was going to leave bruises for sure. "Jack and I ate 'em, of course. What else would you do with a buttload of eggs made out of chocolate?"

"Jack? You mean that – that – Frosty son of a –"

"Tch, language, language. Never knew you could be so feisty, Kangaroo."

"You better watch your mouth," he snapped. "I'm a Guardian. When the kids don't get their eggs, I end up on the bad end of the tunnel, got it? No eggs, no believers. You could've cost me my life's work by pulling that shit!"

This time I was the one who scowled and it seemed to confuse him. Not many people had the pleasure of seeing me truly angry – unless it was Jack, in which case I could show whatever emotion I wanted and he wouldn't care. This guy, though, was starting to seriously piss me off. Jack and I knew that people didn't believe in us and we lived with it – that was just how things went. Kids started learning about the weather in school and bam! All that stuff about Jack Frost goes right out the window. And as for me, well, who would want to believe that there was a phantom thief that stole your socks when you weren't looking or your car keys or, on special occasions, your actual car?

People didn't believe in us, so why was it thought of as fair that the Guardians got to be believed in? Got to be loved by the children and sometimes even the parents? How in the fucking world was it fair that they were so special?

"Sod off, Kangaroo."

And with that, I was gone in a swirl of magic that no one could see and that no one cared about.

Because people didn't believe in Jack Frost.

And if they didn't believe in Jack, then they certainly didn't believe in me.

~J~A~C~K~&~R~O~S~S~

JACK

Ross hadn't come home for over an hour and I was getting worried. We were almost always together, but he had said something about having to do an errand before zipping off on me in the middle of the day. I hadn't thought much about it. Ross was older, so he could do what he wanted.

Still, I was worried. Because it was midnight and there was no sign of my best friend anywhere. Sometimes he would hang out in one of the more boisterous towns around the world, drink a few shots of whatever he was able to pick up (apparently having the 'gift' of invisibility meant that sneaking into bars and clubs was a must, especially if the actual drinks never slipped through your fingers. According to him, it was 'neat'. It mostly just meant more of a headache to me when he'd wake up with an immortal hangover).

"I'm hooome!"

I looked up from my place at the window and scowled as Ross stumbled through the door, piss drunk. I should have known he wouldn't come back sober after being out so late. He crashed into the wall face first and then stumbled backwards, tripping over a stool on the floor and finally ending up on his backside. For a long minute or so, he just stared at the ceiling.

I took my staff and leaned against it, sighing in exasperation. "So, Ross. Wanna tell me where you've been?"

"Tryin' t' kill meh'self by drownin' in alcohol," he slurred without a moment's hesitation. I hitched an eyebrow.

"Really? How's that working out for you?"

"…Splendidly."

"Thought so."

There was a lot of cursing on Ross's end when I tried to help him into bed. He didn't seem to want to do anything but lie on the floor and when I tried to convince him that he would have terrible neck aches in the morning, he answered me with a, 'Who the hell cares?' and rolled over onto his side. But I didn't ever take no for an answer – even though I was half wondering to myself it I really should just leave him there to teach him a lesson – and the mission was soon accomplished. He was safely lying there on top of the covers, shoes and clothes still fully on and he, being fully unconscious, didn't seem to care about the fact that I would have to be the one to get him undressed if I didn't want to smell liquor all over his attire the entire night.

"Geez, what a drag," I mumbled, grabbing his leather boots (apparently they were in style or something) and chucking them to the other side of the room. He snored in thanks and I hitched an eyebrow. "Yeah. Right. Have a nice nap, sleeping beauty." The only reply I got was another long snore, louder than the first. It took me about half an hour to get him out of all his clothes and into an old shirt – but I managed without too many bruises. Stupid idiot moves around in his sleep and nearly whacked me straight between the eyes when I tried to tug off his pants. Though I guess it was probably an automatic reaction to someone messing around with him.

Wait, no, I was not messing around with him.

This was purely an act of friendly loyalty.

Tch, what a bastard though, coming in here intoxicated when I clearly told him I wanted to leave tonight to start my 'Winter preparations' for the world. I could kind of understand why he hardly cared about that, since the kids didn't know who was making their winter wonderland possible – but I still liked doing it. It gave me a purpose and a job even if I got little to no thanks for it.

I flopped down next to him and didn't bother getting out of my own clothes. Since I didn't wear shoes, that wasn't a problem, and my hoodie was comforting and discarding it never felt right. So, careful not to get too close to Ross lest I freeze him to death on accident while sleeping, I snuggled into my pillow (which was lightly dusted with frost) and fell asleep.

I didn't tell Ross the next morning that I had had another nightmare.

Or that it had been about him instead of me this time.

~J~A~C~K~&~R~O~S~S~

BUNNYMUND

Believe it or not, it wasn't my idea to throw the little Gumby in a sack. In fact, that entire plot had all been North's doing. He had insisted that Jack would immediately try to escape and the only way to get him into the portal without damage to myself or him was stuffing him in a bag. I couldn't honestly say that it didn't feel good. Frostbite and I aren't exactly best friends if you get my drift. Still, I didn't expect him to immediately start swearing the second Phil tied the drawstring together. Muffled shouts of 'what the fuck?!' and 'what the hell!' were the equivalent of his cursing vocabulary, but I had to wonder who had taught him the vulgarity. Frost seemed to me like a pretty laid back kid, so I didn't expect him to immediately burst out into protests that would make my own mother blush and turn over in her grave.

"Just throw 'im in," I finally said, exasperated. The Yeti's wasted no time and hefted up the bag, chucking Jack into the portal (Phil, I noticed, looked especially satisfied – as if he'd been waiting a long time to do that). I jumped through soon after, going to stand off to the side and hopefully not get caught in the way of North's exuberant welcoming party.

Phil untied the top of the bag and Jack popped his head out, looking momentarily as if he were about to start spitting fire and then looking left in right with obvious awe. "Whoa!" he said, with childish excitement, crawling out fully to get a better look at the workshop. Whatever he had been putting up a fuss about before seemed to have been forgotten – at least for right now.

"Is good, no?" North replied, grinning widely. "I made myself, a long time ago."

"It's amazing!" Jack whispered, his voice filled with excitement. "Do the elves make the toys? Do you pay them? Do you let kids come here sometimes? No, I guess you wouldn't. Can I play? This is soooo cool!"

"Play?" North suddenly looked a bit reluctant, as if the thought of Jack running about freezing everything he touched was less than the appealing. I couldn't say I disagreed with that sentiment. "Eh, later, later. Right now there is things to do."

"What things?" Jack was immediately on the offensive.

"Savin' the bloody world, mate," I finally replied. It was time to stop coddling this kid into a sense of comfort. He was about to get the shock of his life and not even the best welcome party in the world could prepare him for it. "Manny seems ta' have decided that yer Guardian material… for reasons I honestly can't fathom… but since he's the boss, yer in."

Jack's eyes widened in disbelief and then narrowed suspiciously. "What if I don't wanna be a Guardian?"

North boomed a laugh so loud that it could have shattered the windows if they weren't made of sturdier material. Tooth wasn't far behind; tittering at what they both thought must have been a very good joke. I let out a chuckle myself. "Of course you want to be Guardian," North said easily.

"No, actually, I don't," I could tell that Jack meant it this time. He wasn't playing around. "You've got the wrong guy, okay? I'm not Guardian material. I'm wintertime fun and you guys all have sticks up your asses and rules I've got to follow. I don't want to stay around here and I'm not going to."

"We didn't you give you the choice ta' leave," I said easily. I wasn't expecting him to glare my way with more ferocity than I'd seen from Pitch himself. Subconsiously, I took a small step back – as did everyone else in close proximity. Jack Frost was still dangerous matter what we liked to kid ourselves into thinking.

"I'm not staying."

And with that, Jack promptly fainted.

Sandy stood behind his now lax form, shrugging.

Well, the fact that Jack might not want to stay certainly hadn't been a part of the plan. But I guess Sandy seemed to have had enough of the bickering. He was always that sort of guy – just dealing with the problem before it got out of hand.

That didn't change the fact that we now had a very unconscious Spirit of Winter on our hands.

~J~A~C~K~&~R~O~S~S~

ROSS

The world really isn't a big bowl of roses. It's filled with shit and debauchery and people who steal candy from little children. Jack and I have always known that just because there were 'Guardians' out there didn't mean anything in the long run. It meant that a few immortals had gotten lucky and won titles and become famous – but it didn't mean that they did anything substantial for the other spirits around them. After all, they were not the ones who took a black eye for Jack Frost when he was getting beat up over trivial things like icing the leaves of Chozik's – a Fall Sprite's – territory leaves. We didn't have anyone but each other to fend off the scorn and general hate that surrounded Spirits like us (after all, we have no worth, right? Why should anyone care about a glorified thief and someone who can literally chill their bones?). The Guardians don't do shit and that, my friends, is a fact.

So when I woke up from my drunk haze, the first thing I noticed was that my partner in crime was missing. The second thing I noticed was that Colette was sitting on the end of my bed, swinging her feet and looking petulant. A book was held tightly in both her hands and she was staring at me irritably. "So, you're finally awake."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Shut your asshole, Ross. We have a problem."

And that was when I realized that this was serious. Colette isn't one to go for things that are troublesome. She's an introverted sprite, who doesn't like people and likes the Guardians even less. Her books are usually her only companions and the only two people she's ever really seen fit to hang out with for more than few minutes was Jack and myself. I dunno, maybe we grew on her or something. Whatever the reason – she didn't come out of her dwelling place very often and when she did it meant that things were bad somewhere.

The only time I had ever seen her look this serious was when she had called, asking – no, begging – me to get Pitch to leave her alone. He had been coming to call a few times near her burrow back in the day, throwing things around and messing up the whole place. That was before he went into hiding, before the Guardians had decided to get off their lazy asses and defeat him.

A few tricks and I had succeeded in moving him away from her home. But I could never do much. Not like the Guardians could – or thought they could – anyway.

I took a deep breath.

"Okay, what's the problem?"

A pause, like she was dreading telling me the news. This made the worry in my chest creep higher and I had the sudden urge to find Jack and make sure he was okay. I clenched my fists to get rid of that itchy, possessive feeling. And nodded, looking her straight in the eye.

"They've got Jack."

It's funny how fast you can go from being in control to out of control.

My eyes widened, my palms grew sweaty, and I opened my mouth and shouted –

"WHAT THE HELL!?"

All in the span of five seconds flat.