Some Things Last a Rise of the Guardians, Chapter IV


Gwyn needed caffeine and a break. It was near midnight, but she couldn't sleep. The diary had her head spinning a mile a minute. Quietly, Gwyn meandered the cold, empty halls to the cafeteria, but the late-night staff had been sent home due to the storm.

"Perfect..." Gwyn huffed and waltzed over to the coffee dispenser. She pulled the lever, with a flicker of hope, but nothing came out.

It was dark and quiet. A street lamp outside cast an orange glow through the plexiglass windows. While the wind had relaxed, thick, wet snowflakes still tumbled from the sky at a steady pace. A foot of snow had already accumulated. Gwyn quietly slipped into a booth beside the window and watched it fall. She loved how silent and peaceful the world seemed when it snowed. It reminded her of the Alps, the Himalayas, and the Andes— the mysterious, isolated, and deadly places she loved.

Gwyn pulled her jacket hood over her head and leaned against the window. She felt the phone in her pocket press against the wall. Lazily, Gwyn pulled it out and browsed through the contacts. She only had a handful: her mom, her brothers, the editors of magazines she photographed for, a few friends from school and skating, and her uncle.

She paused on her uncle's name.

Jamie Bennett lived in Burgess all his life— two days shy of ninety years. He was a famous children's book author; his stories had been published in dozens of languages and won numerous awards. Bunnymund the Easter Bunny lived in a mysterious warren beneath the Australian outback and Nicholas St. North commanded an army of Yetis at the North Pole... he uncle never wrote anything about Jack Frost though.

We'll never stop believing, Gwyn remembered reading in the diary, and my children, and my children's children, and their children forever and ever. They will always believe in Jack Frost!

Gwyn wondered what happened that made Sophie forget her promise. Growing up, Gwyn believed in Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy like all normal kids— but not Jack Frost.

Gwyn's finger hovered over the red call button. Would her uncle understand her questions? Would he think her insensitive for worrying about Jack Frost given the circumstances?

He must know something... Gwyn decided. He'll understand. She felt comfortable around her uncle. They remained close even when the rest of her world fell apart. Gwyn imagined him sitting alone in the Denver airport and pressed the call button. The phone rung three times before she heard her uncle's friendly voice.

"Hello, Jamie Bennett speaking."

"U-uncle Jamie?" Gwyn stuttered. "It's Gwyn, your niece."

"Well of course it's Gwyn, my niece," he chuckled. "I don't know any other Gwyns. How are you, Snowflake?"

"Snowflake..." Gwyn laughed at her uncle's use of his old nickname for her. "I'm fifty years old, Uncle Jaimie. Don't you think it's time to retire that name?"

"Fifty," he answered in feigned disbelief. "No, I could have sworn you were fifteen."

Normally, Gwyn took offense to such a statement, but she knew her uncle meant no harm. "Uncle Jaimie," she replied in a mocking tone. "I don't know how many fifteen year-olds appreciate being called Snowflake either."

"Well, I'm old," he jested, "and I think I can call my niece whatever I want. Especially since I haven't heard from her in what— three years? Five?"

"I called you on your eighty-eighth birthday." Gwyn replied with certainty, "from Mongolia."

"Ah, Mongolia, yes. I remember... what were you doing in Mongolia again?"

Gwyn fidgeted in the booth. "I had some contract work with an Asian travel agency— just landscapes and stuff." Clumsily, she switched subjects. "But I'm more concerned about you, Uncle. Jackie told me you decided to wait in Denver until the storm cleared."

"I wasn't too keen on driving through the mess," he tutted. "The airline put me in a hotel across the street. We're scheduled for an eight a.m. departure now."

"I'm sorry I called then," Gwyn guiltily interjected. "You should be getting some sleep."

"Nonsense, Snowflake," her uncle replied stubbornly. "I'll sleep when I'm dead."

Gwyn laughed. Jamie Bennett never took anything seriously. "Listen, Uncle Jamie," she switched to a more serious tone. "I umm... I actually called because I have a peculiar question to ask. If you have time that is?"

"Well, you're in luck, Snowflake," he chuckled. "It just so happens, I have an extra supply of time on my hands. Ask away."

"Good." A smile crept onto Gwyn's face. She pulled her knees up to her chest and snuggled deeper into the corner of the booth. "I wanted to ask you about your books," she stated in a hushed tone. "Your stories about Nicholas St. North, E. Aster Bunnymund, Toothiana, and the Sandman— what inspired you to write them?"

"Well, you didn't have to call to ask me that." Her uncle sounded surprised. "I'm sure I've answered that question in every interview I've given over the last seventy years."

"Please, Uncle Jaimie," Gwyn stressed. "Could you tell me again?"

"Well, sure... I drew my inspiration mostly from my childhood. I was rather adventurous in my hay-day," he added with a sly laugh.

Gwyn bit her lip. "But they weren't real adventures— were they, Uncle? You were just pretending."

"Well..." Jamie said in a matter-of-fact tone. "What's the difference between a real adventure and an imaginary one? As long as the story's real enough to one person, what else matters?"

A typical Jamie Bennett answer, Gwyn thought. Her uncle always spoke in riddles. "Well..." Gwyn thought carefully about her choice of words. "What about Jack Frost? Why didn't you write a book about him?"

A long pause followed. Gwyn opened her mouth to rephrase the question, but Jamie cut her off with a forced laugh.

"I didn't write about Cupid or the groundhog either, Snowflake. Why so interested in Jack Frost?"

"Mom's making me read this old diary of hers." The words spilled from her lips. "It's filled with crazy stories about Jack Frost, but they sound so real. It's almost like she, and you, actually believed this Jack was really— was really— he can't be real. Can he?"

Again, silence followed. Gwyn felt like she was walking on thin ice.

Finally, her uncle sighed. "I did write a book about Jack. The manuscript is still sitting in my desk drawer at home along with a dozen beautiful illustrations your mother did for it."

Gwyn's heart raced. Images of the paintings she saw in the old Burgess home flashed before her eyes. "Why didn't you publish it then?"

"Because your mother asked me not to."

Her uncle sounded uneasy, but Gwyn continued to press. "Why would she do a thing like that?"

"I'm afraid, Snowflake," he replied sadly. "It's not my place to speak for your mother on this matter."

"But she won't tell me anything!" Frustration flared in Gwyn's tone. "She just wants me to keep reading her stupid diary."

"Perhaps she's trying to give you the whole story—"

"Whose story though?" Gwyn cut him off. "Her story? Mine? or this Jack Frost guy's? She's hidden the truth from me for fifty years, and you're helping her keep it!"

"It's not my story to tell, Snowflake," he deflected, unfazed by Gwyn's outburst. "I would tell you everything if I could."

Gwyn huffed. She supposed he had a point. She picked up on a genuinely remorseful streak in her uncle's tone and felt guilty for raising her voice. "You shouldn't apologize for her, Uncle Jamie," Gwyn said as she exhaled. "You didn't do anything."

"Sometimes," he whispered. "Not doing anything is the worst mistake."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember when Jackie was born?" Her uncle explained tactfully, "and I made you promise to be a good sister and protect him no matter what?"

"Of course I remember." Gwyn shrugged. "I did nothing you wouldn't have."

"You did nothing I didn't try to," he corrected. "Sophie was a stubborn girl, though. I couldn't always protect her from herself."

Gwyn felt something cold run through her. Without thinking, an insinuation tumbled from her lips. "It was Jack Frost wasn't it? He hurt mom, somehow, or she hurt him? He's more than imaginary—"

"Jack was my best friend." Jamie cut her off, "but that doesn't mean I supported every decision he made. I suggest you keep reading the diary, Gwyn. I promise we can discuss it when I get there."

"But I can't wait!" Gwyn cried. "Not anymore. What if there's not enough time?"

"There will be," her uncle assured. "As I said, Sophie is a stubborn girl."

Gwyn felt like she was standing at the edge of a precipice, teetering so close to the truth. She opened her mouth to protest, but no words formed. Finally, with a sigh, she conceded, "I've waited this long, I suppose. Only—"

"Yes, Snowflake?"

Gwyn inhaled deeply. "Jack Frost... he— is he real? And please don't give me any more of this perspective talk. Is he a real living, breathing, existing being like the one Mom describes in her diary?"

Jamie paused to consider his answer, then responded in a collected voice. "Even though your mother hasn't been up front with you, she's never out right lied to you."

Gwyn's heart leapt into her throat. "So he is real?"

"As long as you believe." Her uncle whispered reverently.

"Believe?" The word sounded like a curse. "Since when has my mom given me any reason to believe a word she says?"

"She hasn't," Jamie frankly replied. "That's why taking the leap of faith is so hard..."

A war waged in Gwyn's mind. She wanted so badly to believe her mom and uncle. To believe this Jack Frost existed— but the story was just too bizarre! The load of crap her mom spewed about the moon resurrecting some kid nearly four hundred years ago to become the spirit of winter? It defied logic!

Just like I defy logic... a voice in Gwyn's subconscious whispered. She choked back a gasp. An outlandish thought crossed her mind. It made Gwyn feel so uncomfortable, her stomach turned uneasily, and she shuttered.

"Gwyn?" Her uncle's voice broke her trail of thought. "Gwyn, are you still there?"

"Sorry, Uncle Jamie." Her mouth felt suddenly dry. "I was just thinking..."

On that note, she bade her uncle a good night and left the darkened cafeteria. Gwyn didn't trust herself to be left alone with the thoughts running wild in her head. No matter how hard it seemed, she had to put her faith in her mom's promise that the diary would answer her questions.

Sophie hardly flinched when her daughter re-entered the room. "You were gone... a while." She breathed heavily.

"I went to get coffee." Gwyn swallowed. "But the cafeteria was closed, so I just sat there for a while." She realized she was rambling and added, "I was just thinking." Gwyn slipped her hands in her pockets and looked down at the floor. She decided not to tell Sophie about her conversation with Uncle Jamie.

An uncomfortable silence settled in the room. Without being asked, Gwyn shuffled over to the bedside table and picked up the diary. "I'm just going to keep reading then..." She muttered.

Sophie, eyes closed, nodded in respond. Gwyn caught the hint of a smile on her mother's face, and sunk onto the floor.

The tile was cool and comfortable. Gwyn shifted up against the baseboard of the bed, and felt her hand graze over something wedged underneath. It was the old picture that slide out of the diary— the one of her mom skating on a frozen pond. Gwyn held the fading photograph inches away from her nose and studied it. Her mom slide across the ice in a graceful arabesque, one arm extended forward and one arm back, but instead of facing forward, Sophie glanced upward and over her shoulder like she was meeting someone's gaze—

"Skip a few entries, sweetheart," Sophie croaked.

"Oh, Okay..." Gwyn blinked. She shook her head to clear it, leaned back against the bed, and cast the photo one last glance before setting it down. Casually, Gwyn flipped through pages filled mostly with drawings and short dabbles. "How about February 3rd, 2021? You would have been twelve."

"Very good," her mom wheezed.

Gwyn shifted into a comfortable position and opened the book across her knees. With a deep inhale, she licked her lips and continued reading...

Dear Diary,

I camped out by the pond last night with Jack and Jamie. My brother will start college next fall, so this is his last full winter at home. I'll miss him very much when he's gone, sort of like how I miss Jack when he leaves in the summer.

The three of us like camping together, because out in the woods, there's no one to judge Jamie and me for our faith in the guardians. Every year more children my age stop believing. I have to watch how I act around them now so they don't think I'm weird. It hurts when I see Jack and can't wave to him or run up and give him a hug. I'm sure it hurts him too. Out in the woods though, we can laugh and tell stories and play games like we used to. That's why I like camping so much. I don't even care if its cold.

There wasn't any snow on the ground yesterday, which was good for the tent. Jamie set it up while Jack and I collected wood for our campfire. As the sun went down, we roasted hotdogs and made s'mores. Then Jack told us stories about the winters before Jamie and I were born. Some were funny stories, like the Easter blizzard of 1968, and some were sad, like the Civil War winter of 1864. Even though I know Jack is over three-hundred years old, it still feels weird to hear him talk of things I read about in my history books.

We stayed up until well past midnight, but eventually Jamie started to doze off, so we snuggled into the tent beside the space heater. Jack wasn't tired though, so he stayed outside. I don't think he sleeps very much anyway.

The forest was quite and still. The heater made a purring noise at my feet. I heard an owl hoot and the sound of wind rustling the tree branches together. I couldn't sleep very well because I was too busy thinking about things— about Jamie leaving, about the guardians, about Jack. I dosed in and out of consciousness, but never really fell asleep. Then, after a while, a clattering sound woke me. It was coming from on top of the tent!

Quick as a jackrabbit, I bolted to my feet, grabbed my flashlight, and jabbed at the canopy. A shrill, "ouch!" echoed through the forest, followed by a loud "thump!" After I whipped on my coat and boots, I darted from the tent, and clicked my flashlight on—

"Jack!" I screamed. "What were you doing on top of the tent?"

The winter spirit looked up at me like a deer caught in the headlights. "I-I thought you were asleep," he stuttered.

"I was." I lied, "but your racket woke me up."

He hung his head and muttered. "Sorry, Soph..."

I tried to keep a straight face and glared at him, but Jack's guilty look was too funny. "You don't have to apologize." I broke into a laugh. "I'm usually heavy sleeper anyway. Still, what were you doing on top of the tent?"

"I was just star gazing," Jack said as he stood and brushed dirt off his hoodie. "They're really bright tonight... and the moon too."

I looked up to see for myself. Thousands of glittering, white lights spotted the black sky like fireflies. "They are," I whispered. "Sorry I scared you."

"You didn't scare me," Jack brushed my comment aside. "I'm a guardian. I don't get scared."

"Sure..." I playfully rolled my eyes. Since I hadn't been sleeping anyway, I decided to stay awake and star-gaze with Jack. I pulled a tarp from the tent to set my sleeping bag on, threw some feet warmers into the bottom of the sack, and snuggled inside. Jack lay down on the tarp beside me, but he didn't need any blankets.

Since neither of us knew how to find constellations, we took turns pointing out stars we thought looked cool and talking about the planets that might orbit them. I saw a bright, pinkish star that reminded me of an easter egg, so I named it 'Bunny.' Jack made a funny face and said the planets circling it were probably the most annoying ones in the whole universe.

I laughed and burrowed deeper into my warm sleeping bag. I felt so comfortable in that moment, the only thing making me a little sad was knowing it would end. "I hate how nothing lasts," I said with a sigh, "not even the good stuff."

"Some things last," Jack replied. His nose scrunched up as he thought. "The stars do... and the moon. I've seen a lot of things change, but they're still the same."

"But what about childhood?" I pressed, "and fun times? and snow?"

"No." He tilted his head to the side. "They don't last, but you wouldn't want them to. When things last too long, we start taking them for granted."

"What do you mean?"

Jack shrugged and folded his arms behind his head. "Well, like me for instance. Before I became a guardian, I was just sort of existing in the world without living in it. When things drag on endlessly, without a purpose, you just... I don't know, lose touch with the things that make life beautiful. Usually those are the things that don't last forever— like laughs and hugs, like childhood, and snow days."

I understood what he was saying, but I still felt hollow. "I just feel like kids are growing up too fast," I said as I exhaled. "They think it's so cool to be grown up and stop believing."

"You may be right," Jack replied. "The world around kids is different now. A lot faster."

"Too fast!" I growled. "I can only imagine how different everything looks now compared to three-hundred years ago. Sometimes I forget how old you are."

"Sometimes I do too..."

A moment of silence passed. I shifted onto my stomach and looked at Jack. The questions I wanted to ask him came flooding back into my brain. I took a deep breath. "Can I ask something without you laughing at me?"

His eyes lit up. "You can ask me anything Soph. Only I can't promise I won't laugh. Especially if your questions are anything like your brother's."

Perfect segue. "What does Jamie ask you?"

"Usually random stuff," he chuckled. "Like why do I always wear the same clothes? Or how long can I stand upside down for? Or what's my temperature on a thermometer?"

"Well..." I blurted. "I want to know those things too."

He smiled. "I don't change clothes mostly cause I like what I have on. Also, since I don't have money and can't be seen, I'd have to steal stuff, and I don't want to do that. I can stand upside down long enough that I get bored before I get dizzy, and I don't know what my temperature is. We couldn't find a thermometer."

I made a mental note to look for one later.

"So, Soph," Jack pressed. "What did you want to ask?" He nudged me with his elbow.

My cheeks flushed red and I bit my bottom lip. "I just wanted to know... I don't really care either way but... if you died when you became Jack Frost, does that make you like a ghost or something?"

His brow raised, but I was happy to note he didn't seem at all offended.

"Ha! You know, I wondered that myself once." Slowly he explained, "I didn't know anything but my name when I woke up as Jack Frost. Then, I had a lot of time in three-hundred years to think about things like what I am and why I'm here... but I ruled out a ghost pretty early on."

I squinted. "Why's that?"

"Because..." he pursed his lips and thought for a moment. "Oh!" Like a lightbulb clicking on in his brain, his frown switched back into a smile. Jack grabbed my hand, and I toppled over as he placed it on his chest. "Feel that?"

"Hey!" I scoffed and made a face. His touch sent a shiver down my spine. "Feel what?" His hoodie was soft, very worn. His chest rose and sank as he breathed in and out, and then... I felt it—

A thump. Once, and then again. I felt the steady beat, beating of a heart in the place where all normal hearts were.

"You have a heartbeat, Jack." I said, astounded.

"I know, right?" The thought seemed to amaze him even now. "That's how I know I'm not dead."

I pulled my sleeping bag tight and scooted closer to him like an inchworm. "I like that you have a heartbeat."

"You do?" He tilted his head to the side. "Why?"

"Because..." I paused to sort my thoughts out. Though I've never doubted my belief in Jack's existence, I never considered him normal either. After all, he is a guardian. He has super powers, and he's smart and funny and cute and... pretty much perfect. Finally, I replied with a question. "Can I see your hand?"

"Sure." Jack propped himself up on his elbows.

I took his hand in mine. His fingers were cold, but not too bad. They just tickled a bit. The back of his hand had little veins running through it, and I felt his bones through his smooth skin. Casually, I flipped it over to look at his palm. There were three lines in it, just like mine. "You're so normal." I observed. "I just don't get how some people can't see you."

"Well..." he gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "There is the whole 'guardian' thing."

"Yeah," I sighed. "I guess the believing part goes with the territory."

Something in the way he looked at me made my insides feel squirmy. I liked spending time with Jack, just the two of us. Usually I had to share him with Jamie. "You're not going to forget about me when Jamie goes to college, are you?" I asked and tugged at the edges of my sleeping bag. "I know he was your first believer, but—"

"Soph," He cut me off. "I'll be here as long as you want me to." Jack lay on his side and looked directly at me as he spoke. "Besides, Jamie wasn't really my first believer— you were."

I kept my eyes fixed on his face, looking for a sign he was joking."What?"

"Let's just keep this between you and me." Jack lowered his voice to a whisper. "I think it would hurt his feelings if he knew."

"Knew what?" My eyes grew wide, not believing what I was hearing.

"The night Pitch attacked," he tracked back in his memory. "You accidentally transported yourself to the Warren using one of North's snow-globes, and we were having so much fun, I forgot that you couldn't see me... or I thought so at least. When it was time to take you home, I volunteered, and to everyone's surprise I could pick you up!"

"And you wouldn't have been able to if I didn't believe," I squeaked excitedly.

"Exactly!"

My heart pounded in my chest. All this time I thought Jamie was Jack's first believer, but he wasn't. It was me! I tried to tell myself it didn't matter who believed first— only that we both still did. But for some reason, I couldn't mask my happiness. I felt proud. I felt... closer to Jack somehow. "I wish I could remember..." my voice trailed.

Jack looked at me. "You don't need to remember, Soph. Tooth told me that the most important memories from childhood aren't just stored in teeth. They're also kept right— here!" He poked above my heart and I giggled.

"I'm glad you're here, Jack." I blushed and buried my head in his chest. "You're like my brother that won't ever grow up and go to college and leave me. We'll always be friends."

He gently placed a hand on my head and stroked my hair. "Always. I promise."

I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have, because when I opened my eyes, pale morning light seeped through the trees and glistened off the frost-coated pine needles on the forest floor. Jack was still beside me on the tarp, sound asleep.

I decided then that it didn't matter whether I was Jack's first believer or his one-hundredth and first. Believing in the guardians made me special, and no matter what the other kids at school said— that would always be a good thing.

Sophie


A/N: I meant to upload this last week, but I didn't get the chance to edit it. I still haven't been able to scour it as thoroughly as I like, so I apologize it there's more typos than normal. Please do not hesitate to point out glaring mistakes.

Just a note, I probably won't be able to finish another chapter until my spring break in late March. My first priority is to update my Legend of Zelda story, and those chapters typically take me a while.

As always, thank you for the support and reviews :)

Scarlett