I own nothing but the story.
A cold winter's evening finds Jack in boreal wilderness, on the rocky shore of a river nearly frozen over, save for a snake of glass towards the center.
The moon lies behind him in the open sky, half-waned and declining as the world turns about, leaving webs of stars displayed in all their glory. It's peaceful out, quiet in a way. Times like these most people tend to enjoy, but it's rare when that's a feeling Jack shares.
It's one of the many things he hates about three hundred years of loneliness; isolation bittered the joys of solitude, turning times like these foul instead of moments where he could just enjoy the time alone.
That said, Jack has found, to his surprise, that there's comfort in the familiar, regardless of feeling, and with every hour he spends with the Guardians or the children, he seeks out another to spend alone, away from it all. The difference now is that it's by choice.
He's not sure what to make of it.
He loves the children. He loves the Guardians.
But it's...a lot to spend time with them; a lot to deal with at once.
Solitude is familiar, and he knows exactly where in the world he can find the perfect place to sit, rest while comforted in knowing that he won't be found.
A sudden crash sways his confidence in the belief.
With a start, Jack whips his gaze towards the white woods behind him, squinting. Something large moves through the trees, and for a terrifying moment, Jack thinks a spooked moose is charging at him, but a second later reveals a frazzled Bunnymund hurrying out, chips of ice sparkling in his fur.
He pants, wheezes once, glares at the woods before turning with a wide-eyed stare caught sheepish. There's a long, almost cartoonish moment where they stare and he stands, off balance, before his expression melts into a grin trying desperately to come off casual. Bunny then states, with exaggerated gusto, "Er—hey, Jack! How's it hanging?"
A long silence follows in his wake, punctuated by an air of awkwardness. Jack just looks the Guardian over, more surprised than he'd care to admit. His mind tells him to respond, but his expression must have said something before he could get his voice to work, because Bunny sighs, shakes himself, and hops over to his side.
"You're hard to find," he says as he throws out a paw towards the rocky earth, "May I?"
Jack nods, bewildered. He's never known Bunny to ask for permission.
Bunny sits with a plop, refusing to offer any sort of explanation as to why he was here or why he came barreling out from nowhere. He merely sits, panting, and Jack is left to guess. He looks back towards the woods, eyeing the path of broken branches and torn snow.
"Where did you come from?" he asks, though he has many questions he'd like answered first.
"The woods," says Bunny, direct in a way that Jack only appreciates when he's the one speaking as such. "I...uh, I was…" he waffles a moment, then says, "Just checking in."
The Pooka's heart is pounding loud enough for Jack to hear. He can practically feel it. Jack looks towards the woods again; all is still. "Were you following me?"
"No." Bunny's reply is just as fast, and Jack thinks that if he were human, his cheeks would be bright red.
He's lying, simply. Jack would call him on it, but he has too many other questions to hover long on one. "What's up with you, then?"
"I thought you were at Jamie's."
"I was," Jack looks back at the woods again, "but he went to bed hours ago. What are you doing here?"
"I'm just checking in," says Bunny, "It's part of my job."
Jack frowns. "Is not. It's winter!" On top of the world, no less. Bunny has no business for being here. Something is up. "What were you doing in the woods? Why'd you come out like a scared rab—" well… "—like you did?"
Bunny's eyes are on the open water, and he scratches at a patch of fur on his neck as he states, in a sheepish sort of mutter, "I wanted to see you…"
It comes out as half a question.
"Why?" Jack doesn't mean the response to sound callous, but there is a difference between wanting to see someone and stalking them at the dead of night, and the very fact that Bunny is here proves the latter situation more than possible.
"...why not?" says Bunny, tone taking a stronger turn, "I see you but once a month; I just want to know how you're doing. Bein' a Guardian is serious business, y'know."
That hardly explains why Bunny is here, but, "This is...like a business call?"
Bunny is quiet, then, "That's one way of thinking of it."
That's the way Jack prefers, currently. He's not one for seeking out solitude, but the interruption is jarring to say the least. He steals one last look at the woods and decides it's too late in the day to try and put up a fight, not that he'd need to.
The instinct is still there, though, and Jack can't for the life of him figure out why.
"Alright then," he says, and he notices Bunny relax in the slightest, "Well, I'm okay."
"That all? How's the belief?"
Believers. The subject comes up a lot during their regular meetings. Currently, Jack has eighteen. More than he'd ever asked for. Pitiful for a Guardian, but Jack doesn't measure success that way.
"They're growing in numbers by the day!" he says, because they've gone over this before and Bunny has no reason for being here whatsoever—
"Have you found you've grown more powerful?" Bunny's tone is slipping into a more naturally casual form, but the Pooka shivers. Jack is certain now that he'd been following, and he's not sure how suspicious he needs to be.
"You know," he replies, carrying on, "I actually have."
An accident a few weeks back is the most recent proof; a gust of wind Jack summoned to help boost him from the earth ended up being more an inland gale, one that sent spikes of ice sprouting along bare-boned trees and himself careening into a nearby wall. Though capable of possessing it, 'grace' is not something Jack can always call his own.
Others might, but before he was seen, he could get away with such accidents. Now, he still catches Jaime snickering at his back, and he finds himself both embarrassed and delighted to be so.
It's an odd combination, one he's not used to.
There's a lot about this new way of life that Jack isn't used to, and it's been so long since he started having believers that he's beginning to worry.
He sighs.
"You seem glum."
Another odd thing; Bunny's presence. "What would you know?" Jack mocks, for lack of a proper answer, "What are you doing here?"
"I told you I wanted to see you. You're hard to find."
"If you want to see me, just say so," Jack says, "I'll find you. We can make plans." It'd be better than this, surely. Sitting awkwardly on the shores of a frozen river, Bunny likely freezing his tail off.
Bunny turns to face him, quick and ticked, "Do you want me to go?"
Jack thinks, wonders if Bunny would leave if he gave the word. Though uncomfortable, whether he wants that to happen is still being debated in the far reaches of his mind, so he decides not to test it.
"No," he says, shaking his head, "I'd just prefer some warning next time."
Next time. The very idea that there would be a 'next time' still flabbergasts Jack. But they are friends now, so this would be stuff they would do together.
Actually...Jack blinks. That gives him an idea.
"Alright," Bunny starts, still a mix of miffed and abashed over being caught, "I'll give it, I swear—"
"Hey," Jack cuts him off with an elbow to the side and stands, kicking his staff up with him, "Since you're here on business and whatnot, how about I show you some of the perks?"
Bunny cocks an ear sideways, eyes narrowing, "Perks?"
Jack grins, "Yeah, follow me."
Bunny starts to protest that this was only supposed to be a short call, and that he really should get back to the Warren, but Jack takes off before he delivers his argument. The Pooka is cold, but the way Jack sees it, it would do his friend good to suffer a while. It serves him right for following him for reasons he still hasn't deciphered.
Jack flies low and slow in the air, just above the snow-capped conifers, so Bunny isn't lost; at some point, Bunny decides traveling through tunnels and popping up now and again to make sure he's going in the right direction is preferable to braving the northern night. It might be the safer choice, frankly. Where Jack is leading isn't a pleasant trip, but the destination would hopefully be worth it for him—his friend.
Jack smiles, uncertain, at the landscape, glad that Bunny can't see.
Though biased, Jack likes to think that Mother Nature was having a good day when she made the taiga and everything that fell under its definition. He thinks it the best sort of environment to live in. The biome is full of wonderful things, and he's sure that even someone like Bunny could learn to appreciate it.
If nothing else, he's sure the Pooka will appreciate what it has to offer tonight.
After several miles longer than he remembers, Jack finally spots it.
A column of steam, pale ivory under the starlight, rolls slowly from the earth, curling past square rocks and ridges. Jack grins; this place, one of many dotting the surface, is almost inaccessible outside of winter (for humans, at least). With a gust of wind to keep him up, Jack turns and scans the earth. When he spots Bunny, he waves, grinning, and points ahead.
Bunny looks and spots the column. Giving a nod, he disappears into his tunnel. Even at a distance, Jack can see his body trying to shake off the chill. He's only slightly sorry for the length of the trip, but Bunny will appreciate it, certainly.
Jack has led him to a natural spring, undeveloped and remote. During the day, it is nearly always at a low boil, and it heats the rocks in a way that makes one forget that they're in one of the coldest places on earth.
Jack lands against the rocks, slowly lowering his feet. It's impossible for him to melt (despite what some choice adversaries may hope), but the heat that rises through him makes his muscles feel like liquid. He sits against a flattened stone, where the faintest trace of moss grows bright green. It's the warmest color around tonight.
"Oh my," comes a voice.
Jacks smiles and turns to find Bunny crouching low over the rocks.
"This is warm!" he says, surprised.
"It's a spring," Jack says, "I thought you might appreciate it."
"I forgot there were springs up here," Bunny sounds genuinely impressed as he crawls right over to the edge of the pool, stretching his belly out.
"There's lots of great stuff up here."
"I'm sure."
Jack is sure Bunny is lying through his teeth, but he doesn't question it. This might be the longest conversation they've had that hasn't yet devolved into petty insults tossed back and forth.
Well, Jack tosses the insults, but Bunny is certainly petty. Regardless, though, their conversation has steered clear of such waters, and despite not knowing what to talk about, Jack wants to keep it this way.
There is the problem of conversation, however.
Bunny looks content, curled up at the edge of the spring like he belongs there. Jack wishes he'd had time to come up with something interesting to say, but the Pooka had caught him quite by surprise, showing up in the middle of the night and all that.
Jack thinks. Perhaps he should address that once again.
But Bunny looks too content, so Jack puts it off for...another time, whenever that may be. He sits there, floundering as he tries to think of something to say. Several painful moments pass before Bunny relieves him by speaking first.
"So ya' do like bein' a Guardian, then?"
Another subject they've discussed at length in other times and places.
"Oh yeah," he says simply, "I'm living the dream."
"How're you adjusting?"
That's another story.
"Living the dream," he repeats, softer.
Bunny peers up at him with bright green eyes, the same color of the moss. Jack thinks he's going to say something, but he just observes before turning back towards the spring.
Fruitless, then. After too long where Jack gets impatient, he blurts out, "Have you ever been attacked by a Canadian goose?"
The question is sudden and has nothing to do with anything; Jack himself wonders where he could've pulled it from.
But Bunny replies with ease, saying, "Of course not."
That surprises Jack, "Really?"
"Why so shocked?"
"Because," Jack starts, "You can't...not have...at least once. Have you at least been chased?"
Bunny shakes his head, looking pleased with himself, though that may be the effects of the spring, "Never. All animals like me."
Jack has to call bull on that, "Impossible."
Bunny doesn't fix him with a glare, like he might have, once, but his ears snap straight, "You don't believe me?"
Jack gives a hard nod, "I refuse to believe every animal likes you. What about Pitch's nightmares; they didn't like you."
"I wouldn't call those 'animals', mate."
Jack thinks, scratching at his chin, "What about Abby, Jaime's greyhound?"
Bunny bristles where he lies.
"—she didn't like you. Unless you call that 'tough love'."
"Not tough," says Bunny, words clipped, "Just...aggressive."
Jack lets out a hoot to show what he thinks of that, and Bunny is in a good enough mood to respond with a small smile. The spring seems to be working, then.
The moment is the first of many that eases their meeting from the odd mess that it is to something more pleasant. Jack might even dare to call it 'nice'. As they sit near the spring, Bunny warming himself, and Jack beginning to sweat, they have the most amiable conversation they've ever shared.
They talk of nothing.
Well, several subjects, all seemingly insignificant and independent of each other, but all important to Jack, nonetheless.
They talk of stars, the sky, and the lovely colors it creates. Bunny likes the sunrise, likes watching the light creep over the walls of his Warren like a vine working backwards.
They talk of forests of all sorts, of the creatures in it. Bunny tells him of fireflies that show up in summertime and brighten darkened forests, creatures that Jack never really gets to see, except once upon a time, long, long ago. He doesn't tell Bunny about that.
An owl hoots some time during the night, and they talk next of their favorite birds. Bunny likes songbirds, too fond of each kind to pick a favorite. Jack prefers large waterfowl himself, and when he tells Bunny as much, he doesn't have an answer to Bunny's, "Why?" except that they're goofy and fearless and just delightful little creatures, every sort.
Bunny laughs, the sound ringing loud through the crisp air.
Eventually, their conversation works around to the Pooka's role as the Easter Bunny, because Jack can't fathom having to work only one day a year.
"It's not all one day!" Bunny is incredulous at Jack's accusation, and Jack snorts in response, "The eggs are created in the few days before, sure, but they are the exception," for his next statement, he faces Jack and shakes his paw for emphasis, "Everything else is a year-round production, I promise you that!"
He chuckles, much to Bunny's chagrin.
They don't get to talk like this, Jack realizes.
"I have a full schedule," Bunny continues to insist, defending himself from an argument never uttered, "Why, I had plans tonight about basket-design that I would have tended to if it hadn't been for—"
As Jack watches, Bunny's eyes go wide, and he cuts himself off. The abrupt silence that follows allows the atmosphere of the first half of the night to make an unwelcome return, and the question of his company's presence arises again. As Jack stares at Bunny, who avoids eye contact, he decides not to let the question pass.
"Why are you really here?" Jack asks, voice soft. Bunny hasn't been lying to him, but he hasn't been all honest, either.
Bunny looks torn for a moment, eyes shifting as he sits in thought. Jack sees him take a deep breath, slowly in, then out. Though Jack would credit the spring for loosening his resolve, the tone of voice suggests another purpose as he comes to a decision and says, "North wanted me to check on you. See if you were alright."
Jack shouldn't be surprised, but he is, "Oh?"
"He, uh…" Bunny's brow is furrowed, and he still looks out over the spring, debating, "He got a little worried since he hadn't seen you in a while."
"He saw me a couple weeks ago," says Jack, a little too quickly, more than a little defensive, "and he'll see me again during the next meeting."
Bunny nods, but he doesn't say any more.
Jack is confused. Had North expected him to visit? Jack can't deny that he'd thought about going back more than once in the past few weeks, if just to test if the window really would be unlocked, but he could never bring himself to do so.
But is North expecting him? How often, and for how long?
Bunny has sat up, now, watching him with a quizzical expression. Jack hates to leave his face an open book, but today he almost appreciates it as Bunny says next, "Don't worry about it, mate. Christmas time makes him frantic. I should have given you a heads up."
Jack can hardly see how that has to do with him, but he nods, agreeing at least with that last part. "I could've met you somewhere warmer," he mumbles, the tick he felt about being followed, though older, still scratching at him like a thorn in his side, "Perhaps the American South."
"Oh, no. I won't go higher than the equator," Bunny jokes without smiling, taking a stand, "I'll tell North to ease off; how does that sound?"
"No."
Bunny stiffens, ears snapping straight. "Hm?"
"I'll…" Jack stares at the bubbling spring, "I'll tell him myself. The next time I see him."
Bunny looks odd, his stare intense and eyes wider than they normally are. "And when will that be?"
Jack shrugs, "The week after Christmas, maybe? I can drop in for a minute or two."
The odd stance vanishes as Bunny heaves a soft chuckle, "Might want to wait a while. After Christmas, he's usually asleep 'til January."
That might better suit Jack, but he keeps the thought to himself.
Beside him, Bunny gives himself a scratch and says, "I'll be heading off, then," he taps his feet, a tunnel opening. Though he tenses, he doesn't yet jump down as he gives Jack one last look, "Hey," he says.
Jack looks back.
"It's nice seeing you."
For once, Bunny doesn't look like he's forcing the statement out through clenched teeth, and that makes Jack grin, "You know what?" he replies, "You too. And I mean that," shaking off the vague feelings of uncertainty and wonder, he stands, "Before you go, can I ask you just one last thing?"
His tone must have rung some sort of bell in Bunny's head, because his, "Sure," is marbled both parts curious and suspicious.
"Why'd you come running out of the woods earlier?" He wouldn't have given himself away if he hadn't, and Jack wonders how the night might have continued if so.
The Pooka's teeth grind together, and he turns his eyes steady towards the landscape, focusing on a tree to keep from looking at him. "My tunnel popped out in a grizzly's den."
He says it so matter-of-factly that Jack laughs, the sound coming out as a cackle.
When Bunny glares at him, he laughs harder, because the expression and memory is too amusing.
Bunny doesn't end up chiding or yelling at him like he used to, and Jack supposes that is what separates their friendship from whatever they were before. It's a pleasant guess among a series of guesses, and only when Bunny's patience looks too thin for comfort does Jack calm down.
"Well," he says, "Maybe that'll teach you. Good night."
"Good day, where I'm going," sighs Bunny, and Jack isn't sure if he's going to Australia or somewhere that just so happened to be in the daytime.
Either way, Bunny hops down into his hole, and Jack gives him one last wave before flying off into the open sky, losing himself among the stars.
This wasn't meant to come out so late. Thank you for your patience.
I had to split this chapter up since it got too long, so the next one should be up soon (sooner than this, at least).
Thank you so much for taking the time to read, review, and follow this story! Your support truly sends me over the moon! Have a marvelous day!
