Global Warming

Chapter 2: In Which Bunnymund Never Should Have Left the House

Summary:

Bunnymund wants to help Jack, but between the elevated temperatures, his heavy winter coat and exhaustion from not sleeping or eating much in the last few weeks, he's the one who's going to need help...

Spring was usually Bunny's favorite season. The sky filling with the songs of the birds once again, flowers popping up from the ground and leaf buds appearing on the trees, baby animals being born or poking their heads out of their dens for the first time. New life, rebirth and hope everywhere you look. A feeling of renewal flooding the body with every breath. A time to stretch, relax and just enjoy being alive. And the air was so refreshing! Not too cold, not too hot. Just the right temperature…

But not today. The temperature today was far from right. The closer they got to the surface, the hotter it became and Bunny was already very uncomfortable. Jack followed his lead through the tunnels. He really couldn't navigate them. Honestly once or twice he'd become lost in them… but luckily if he was ever truly lost he knew that Bunny would find him. Even if he would be angry at Jack for intruding. Aster slowed to a walk and looked over his shoulder, Jack coming up beside him as he did so. On a normal day, he would do this as a tease during one of their races. Bunny would allow Jack to just barely catch up, then chuckle and bolt away at top speed. Today there would be no racing through the tunnels. Today the Pooka was certain to lose should he challenge Jack to a race. He wasn't about to tell Jack, but he and the heat were not on good terms.

As such, Bunny was rather grumpy when Jack asked again what a chinwag was. It seemed the persistent little pest was planning to be the King of stupid questions with obvious answers today. A brief scowl crossed his face and he explained that, "A chinwag is a talk, Jack. Cause yer chin, ya know," he shrugged, "wags." It really wasn't that complicated and Jack wasn't stupid. He should have been able to figure it out on his own instead of pestering the irritable Pooka.

They neared the end of the tunnel now and Jack warned in annoyance, "It's hot up there." It was hardly spring, yet it was too hot. Summer-time hot, and it made Jack uncomfortable. He wasn't normally one to sweat, but he found himself doing so from time to time in the heat. Since the heat-wave began, he'd even considered exchanging his hoodie for a thinner sweater, because it was so impossibly warm in the fleece material. It didn't matter how much Jack tried to bring cool to it either. It was far too warm for snow, it just melted into rain. He tried to bring cool breezes, which were a nice relief to the children who played outside, but even the breeze was warm. It was among the reasons why he thought he was losing some of his magic.

Finally under Burgess, Bunny created an opening into the woods right near Jack's pond and a wave of heat invaded the tunnels. The Pooka cringed. "Crikey! Ya aint kiddin'! It's gotta be over a hundred degrees up here!" he gasped, as he hopped sluggishly into the open. Worse yet was the fact that they were in the shade. They hadn't even stepped into the sun yet... Aster was dreading that moment. "This isn't from losin' believers, Jack," he said with certainty. "Yer powers weakenin' wouldn't cause this crook weather! You'd have buckley's chance'a makin' it snow in this heat!" he assured the frost sprite.

There wasn't a lot most people could do in this elevated temperature, including Bunny. Only out a few moments and already he was hotter than a tin can in a furnace. He tried to spread his ears as flat as he could, the added surface area allowing the blood passing through them to cool faster, then he opened his mouth and, tongue peaking out, he panted heavily. Bunny hadn't thought that doing so was a bad idea. It was his body's natural way to get cool in this form, since rabbits don't sweat. Hadn't thought so, that is, till he remembered who he was with.

It was wildly inappropriate to laugh. Jack's eyes glided over the 'kangaroo's' body. No, to laugh would have been awful. It would undo the entire tie of friendship that he had been forming this long. It would anger him. It would embarrass him.

Please, Jack told himself Do not laugh. He cracked a grin as he watched. Bunny kept doing it. "You're…" he snorted, but covered his mouth to hide it. "You're panting," he began. Panting. E Aster Bunnymund was panting, with his tongue hanging out. He looked like a tired puppy on a hot summer day.

Do not laugh. Do not laugh. Do not - the amused teen turned away from Bunny, putting his back to him. He made an involuntary raspberry with his lips behind his hand. He began to chuckle. No stop! Don't do it! Just stop laughing. Maybe you can get away with a chuckle but - it was too late. He lost it, he began to laugh almost hysterically. He doubled over at his waist, one arm pressed into his gut while the other continued to cover his mouth, trying to hide the laughter. After a moment he raised his hand from his mouth, and turned back to Bunnymund.

"S-sorry! I-it's not-" Jack snorted. "It's n-not even f-f-f-funny!" he choked out through his laughter.

It took Jack no less than three minutes of awkward laughter to finally catch his breath and stand back up - and when he did he had tears in his eyes. "Okay-okay-I'm sorry," he offered. "I'm sorry—seriously sorry," he repeated for the hundredth time. He was sorry, especially if Bunny got truly mad at him, but… It had been cute.

It had also been bad timing. It was too damn hot, Bunnymund was shedding to beat the band, he could scarcely breathe and he was under too much pressure with Easter just a few days away. Add to that the fact that he was taking time away from preparations for said holiday to help the guy who was now laughing at him and he couldn't help but lose his temper.

Still panting because, let's face it, it was hot, Bunny glared daggers at Jack. "BELT. UP!" he snapped harshly, between labored breaths. "Just..shut ya gob!… Ah can't… help it!… Ah… don't… sweat!"

Jack could hardly hear the shouting over his own laughter, and honestly why would he care? He knew that Bunny was going to get mad at him from the start. He'd tried to keep himself from laughing at him, he had, but it had been to no avail.

The outburst didn't last long, the Pooka having already spent what little energy he had. He cast another furious look at Jack - and oh, it was a ridiculous countenance he cast, anger crossed with panting - but his expression soon softened. He hated himself for yelling in the first place. Why couldn't he just control his temper? He used to be able to. Long ago.

That was before he met North and had, on repeated occasions, been forced to partake of chocolate in order to get the Guardians out of one dire situation or another. Chocolate, which had a tendency to cause an unpredictable physical transformation in Pooka, also caused predictable changes. These changes, emotional in nature, were far more disconcerting to him. Each time he ate chocolate, he became a bit more illogical. A bit more… emotionally driven and, unlike the physical changes which went away after he came down from the transformation, the mental changes tended to linger indefinitely.

And now he was discovering that he had other reasons for regretting his actions as his head began to pound and a wave of dizziness washed over him. He bent over, paws gripping his knees, and panted all the heavier from the experience. This was not good. Normally he had a few months to lose his winter coat and adjust gradually to the rising temperatures, but it had gone from forty-degree days with snow on the ground to triple digit temperatures literally overnight. Another dizzy spell struck and he knew… Heatstroke was setting in.

Looking rather the worse for wear and with vision blurring, he half-dragged himself into the sun and over to the edge of the pond, where he promptly dropped to the ground and submerged his head in liquid relief… then he just lay there, head still under water, not moving.

It wasn't until he was standing and wiping his eyes that Jack noticed Bunny had wandered over to the pond. His pond. He called it his because it was his home. He'd lived there for a number of years. He honestly preferred it to be frozen. He felt like it was safer that way… no one could stumble in and drown, but he couldn't freeze it right now. Although, it being frozen hadn't saved him from drowning... He looked out over the trees that surrounded it and sighed. He did not hold any resentment towards this pond… it was just a pond. It held a number of memories for him now, some good and some less.

Glancing over at Bunny again, Jack wondered what was taking him so long to get his drink. "Thirsty then?" he questioned. Sure, it was hot… but was this long of a drink necessary? He stepped closer and realized he wasn't getting a drink at all. A bit of panic flittered into Jack's heart. "Cottontail..?" he asked, voice laced with concern, but Bunny didn't respond - just continued to lay there with his head submerged. Jack gasped, "Hey! Bunny!" The frost sprite flew to his side, casting his staff aside and tugging at his shoulders in an attempt to lift him. "Hey, listen! I know you don't like my jokes… but you don't have to drown yourself!" He didn't know why he was trying to be funny. This was scary.

It took a little longer than he expected to finally drag the Pooka's head and shoulders away from the edge of the water - This sucker was heavy - and, although he was sopping wet, Jack leaned down to try and listen to his heart. "Hey-Hey, Bunny! Wake up!" he demanded. Good lord, had this stemmed from being too hot?

Bunnymund was dimly aware of a voice. Of someone shouting his name and of being heaved bodily from the water. A small corner of his mind, where delirium had set up camp, was now crying out to return to the pond. Fever-induced images swam through his mind… his home-world.., his village.., his people.., his Mate.., they all floated about his consciousness in ghostly half-formed smudges of color and feeling. Even his sweet little girl, just beginning her life, curled up asleep in his arms… so like young Sophie that day in the Warren last Easter.

Then they were leaving him. His child ripped from his arms and sucked up - up and away in a whirling vortex which seemed composed of a few fleeting years of joy, followed by horror and a lifetime of sorrow and regret. The delirious part of his mind laughed at him. Prodded him, Told him the pond was where he belonged. How dare you survive while all you care about dies, it goaded him. Go. Go… back to the water. Back to your family. That is where they are… That is where you should be…

Jack thought he was going to have a heart attack. "Come on - please open your eyes?! I won't laugh at you for panting anymore, I swear! Just... don't be dead, okay?" he begged, shaking Bunny in an effort to wake him.

That voice again, that other voice, the one from beyond Aster's mind - it was yelling again and it was starting to annoy him. It was growing louder, more insistent.

More… frightened? No. That couldn't be right. Everyone who cared enough for him to fear his death was in the pond… waiting for him. Right? It must have been their voices he was hearing. Calling him to the great beyond, where they might be reunited.

Not knowing what to do was tormenting Jack. He didn't even know CPR. Did CPR even work on rabbits? Pookas? Kangaroos? Whatever. He leaned over Bunny, pressing ever so slightly against his chest. He was pretty sure he had heard his heart beating, and he just really wanted him to breathe. He pressed a second time, a little harder. "Wake up now, this isn't funny..!" he growled. Getting angry was unreasonable, but it was better than the alternative.

The Pooka was beyond caring about the weight on his chest. His family was waiting for him and he wanted to go to them. He wanted to be with them, at long last. To spend eternity, not alone, but in the loving presence of those he'd left behind. He'd secretly wanted this since the day they'd died, but to kill himself would have been to dishonor them all. So he'd soldiered on, the last of his kind, the living memory of the Pookan Brotherhood. Now that the end seemed near, through no design of his own, he saw no reason to fight it. He would be with the others. With his parents, his Aunts and Uncles, his sisters and his brother... his Mate and his daughter. If he was with them the nightmares would end. If he was with them he wouldn't hurt anymore. If he was with them... he could be happy. He let himself drift, feeling the pull of death as his heart slowed, breathing stopped… he was slipping and he wanted to fall…

It was in that very moment, when his chest stilled after a last shuddering, watery breath, that Jack realized Bunny was dying. He was dying this close to Easter and it was all his fault. He choked on another gasp. "BUNNY!" he called again, no longer trying to cheer himself up with jokes, anger dissipating in the face of raw fear. Jack Frost was afraid. It was a deep, stinging fear that gripped his heart, that coursed through his whole body. It made him shiver despite the heat, and it made his eyes shine ever so slightly with unshed tears. "BUNNY! WAKE UP!" he cried, shaking him again, with more violence this time.

Go away, Aster commanded in his sluggish mind. It was that other voice again. It, no he - Bunny realized - just wouldn't give up. And now that voice sounded desperate on a whole other level. He could hear the tears he could not see in it. It pulled at the edges of his consciousness, made him want to stop the hurt. But he wanted his own hurt to stop as well and he'd been hurting for a whole lot longer, so he continued toward the water in his mind. The other would just have to understand.

Jack didn't know CPR, but not knowing how to do something had never stopped Jack from trying before. How hard could it be? He'd seen it done and he really had no other choice. He stood on his knees beside Bunny's chest and laced his fingers together, forming a flat surface. He pushed down hard and fast over his heart - or where he damn well thought his heart was. For all Jack knew Pookas had more than one heart or something crazy like that. "C'mon, please…" he whispered, shoving against his chest a few more times. There was some rhythm behind it, but it wasn't very steady. Jack's whole body was shaking, and that put a damper on it.

It was back, the pressure on Bunny's chest. Again and again, he felt a sudden downward force upon him. It was a futile effort to Bunny. He was going home and nothing would stop him. He could see them now - his people. They were there, the village was there.. his family was there. They stood with outstretched hands, ready to welcome him home.

His little girl, his Tania, who looked so much like him that she could have been his clone, so bright and happy and alive, held in her mother's embrace. Her mother's name was Lyra and she was beautiful. Light brown fur with a white patch here and there, her markings... reminiscent of the sun just before the dawn and her eyes... eyes the same blue-green as Caribbean sea after a storm, with little flecks of gold sprinkled throughout like floating particles of sand. Bunny wanted to go to her. He wanted to go home. So he pleaded with that voice and it's owner to just let him go. But he wouldn't, the owner of that voice. He couldn't hear the Pooka's words and he wouldn't give up. Bunny's heart clenched in sympathy for that unknown being, but he was so close to them now. Almost there.

When Jack remembered a few chest compressions in that he had to try and help the stupid Pooka breathe, he didn't hesitate to try. It was a life-saving technique, not a romantic gesture. Bunny wouldn't mind... right? He ran the procedure through his head. What were the steps? Did it really count the same with a Pooka? Once more, he didn't even know if this would work on him, but he didn't dwell on it. Head back, chin up, mouth open. One cool hand on Bunny's forehead, resting on the odd markings in his fur, the other on his damp, furry neck, holding his chin in place so maybe he could do this…

It was worth a try. He was so sure it was worth the effort to try. Bunny was the last. Jack thought about that when he connected his lips over the Pooka's mouth, trying his damnedest to blow air into his water-filled lungs. Bunny was the only one, the last of a race. Bunny was the symbol of hope. Bunny was proof that even after you've hit the bottom, the lowest low, that there was always a reason to go on.

You couldn't get much lower than the Easter Bunny in that moment. He knew he was dying, but he didn't care. He was so tired of being the last of his kind. Tired of having no one to share his life with. Tired of pressing on in spite of the loneliness which ate away at his heart. He was just tired... and he wanted to sleep. To dream of happier days and never wake up. Suddenly, Bunny felt lips, a mouth over his own. He was hazily aware that the lips belonged to the voice. Who else could it be? Then air was being forced into his lungs, but the water still present was in the way. It made him need to retch. To retch and cough and expel the water from his lungs, but he didn't want to. He wanted to drift on and so he resisted.

Jack pulled his lips away... resumed chest compressions… moved his lips back. He was growing more scared and more hopeless. He wasn't ready to give up just yet, but his efforts seemed to be proving useless. "Please, don't go…" he whispered. "The children need you."

Reaching out for his Lyra's paw, Bunny smiled. He was so close - Again the chest compressions - So close. - Again the mouth and the air - A hair's breadth further and he would grip his Mate's hand, pull his family into his arms and never, ever let them go again. But the voice was talking again. "The children need you," it told him.

That delirious part of his mind registered the voice's words and formed a question in response. What about you? his delirium whispered back. Do you need me? The inquiry caught Bunnymund's attention and he paused in his progress toward oblivion. Had he really asked such a question? Why would he? Was the answer really that important? Would the voice answer? Even though it could not hear him?

Within easy reach of his loved ones, he waited. Torn between the past and the present, the question burning in his mind. He was sure of it now. He needed to know the answer. Needed to know it before he could go on. The rabbit-man was not aware that he had just unconsciously used the Pookan mind meld on Jack. He had heard his question, though it was quiet. Weak. Felt more than heard, like the whisper of a butterfly's wings in the back of his mind, but it was there. What would the answer be?