The stroll through the park was calm and silent, snowflakes still coming down strong, the winter wonderland sparkling and shimmering, the only sounds were the crunch of feet in the snow.

"So, Jack," you decided to break the silence. "You're the spirit of winter and snow. What exactly does that mean?"

He glanced at you, his staff resting on his shoulders. "It means I control snow and frost, basically all the good stuff that comes with a snow day. I can also control the air currents, I guess, I haven't quite figured out what exactly I do there." He held out a hand, palm up, and several flakes that were coming down from the sky got trapped in a dance on his skin. The flakes twirled, like dancers at a ball, and then he let them fall to the earth.

"So if you control snow, why haven't you sent snow down here for these past few years?" You jokingly accused him, and for emphasis, you raised an eyebrow. "These past few years, there's always been this call for snow, but it has never come. Why didn't you ever send snow this way?"

He looked worriedly at you, and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Well… Well, there are other places which... absolutely need snow." He started to stammer. "You know how Russia is famous for the winters I bring them, and Canada, the Arctic, and the Alps all require snow."

"Jack. Jack. I'm just joking." You tried to interrupt him, but he kept on going, nervously scratching his head.

"I also had to help the Guardians defeat Pitch, and that took a long time. Sometimes I don't remember to come here and other places, cause' I'm busy with other things."

"Jack!" You pressed your finger against his lips, to silence him. They were soft, and ice cold, feeling almost as cold as the snow, but with a hint of warmth underneath the chill. You tried not to think about it as you continued. "I was only joking. I know that you have to be in other places too." You pulled your finger back and giggled, and you continued walking, grabbing Jack's arm and pulling him along.

"I thought you were serious!" He grumbled, obviously annoyed that you accused him, even if it was a joke.

"By the way," you looked at him curiously. "What are the Guardians, and who is Pitch?"

Fear crossed Jack's eyes, a memory filled with terror obviously present. He looked down at the snow, watching his shadow which was lengthening in the late-day sun.

"The Guardians. The legends you grew up believing, they're real. The tooth fairy, santa, easter bunny, the sandman. They're all real. They were chosen to become a Guardian to protect the children of the world.

"Pitch, he…, he's what you would call the boogyman. He makes the nightmares that cause you to wake up at night. He tried to spread fear all over the world, but we stopped him." Jack turned his crystal gaze to you. "Have you ever had a nightmare?"

Now it was your turn to look down. You had nightmares frequently, ever since your brother and father died in a car crash three years ago, when you were 14. The other driver had been drinking, and he ran a red light, as your father and brother were going home from a basketball game your brother had played in. Samuel had broken the record for most points scored in a game in his school, and you all were going to celebrate at home. You had received a call at 9:30, by a friend who was at the scene. You and your mother both got in the other car and went to the accident.

Your other car, a Lexus, was totaled, car parts strewn all over the road. The other car, a Ford truck, was barely scratched, a dent in the front right corner was the only evidence that it had hit your father and brother. You can't remember much other than the car parts strewn about, and the lights of ambulances and police cars, your mind subconsciously blocking out the horrifying scene you had clearly seen at that time.

However, you had frequent nightmares about the scene your mind tried to block out, but their faces were warped, the red stains on the street and car cabin more gruesome, and they were crying out, screaming.

You looked back at Jack, tears threatening to come out. "Yeah, I have."

He didn't say anything, but a light crossed his eyes, showing that he understood.

You both exited the park, trudging through the growing amount of snow towards your home. Steam and smoke rose from chimneys, melting snowflakes in midair, and rising towards the already grey clouds. A single car drove by, snow falling from the roof and rising from the turning wheels as it passed.

"I'm sorry." Jack whispered out, not meeting your eyes.

"Don't worry about it! I already said I would forgive you if you uphold your end of the deal." You smiled at him. You knew why he had said that, but you didn't want to bring up the memory of your dead brother and father, so you wanted to drop it.

Jack opened his mouth to say more, but you interrupted him. "Well, here's my house!" You turned onto the snow covered path between small, knee-high hedges that lined the stone path. It lead up to a wooden porch, complete with hanging bench, hanging flower pots, and small stone table.

You walked up to your front door, stomping your boots on the wood, and you turned to Jack, who had followed you to the porch. "I'll see you tomorrow then, Jack Frost." You giggled lightly, remembering the snowball fight. "You better be there at 10. Be ready to teach me!" You opened the door, and you had one foot inside when Jack spoke.

"(y/n), I didn't mean to bring back memories of those nightmares. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for that. You didn't have to answer."

You turned and looked at him, a smile on your face, even though inside, you felt you were being torn apart. "It's okay! I forgive you for that too."

"(y/n)! Who are you talking to?" Your mother called from the kitchen, where the smell of spices and chocolate wafted.

"No one, mom!" You didn't want her to come in and see a strange boy, barefoot in the snow, and start asking questions. "I'll see you tomorrow then!" You whispered, closing the door slowly.

"See you later then, (y/n)." He smiled, gave a wave, and he jumped off the porch. He didn't land on the ground though, instead, he planted his feet on his staff and gripped the crooked top with his left hand. He took to the air, whooping and laughing.

You stood and watched as he flew away into the now-dark sky. His light blue jacket and white hair soon disappearing into the falling snow, which now fell in clumps from the dark grey sky.