I was right, the painting had been huge. It took up the entire wall, street to roof. And what was it? According to Jack, "Holy crap, that's the Easter Kangaroos warren!"

"He has a warren?" I asked.

Jack looked up at me from where he floated in the alley, "You don't know about the warren?"

"I just found out from you." I said, rolling my eyes.

"But... if you've never been there, how did you paint it?" Jack asked.

"I've never been to the beach before." I explained, "But that doesn't stop me from painting the ocean. As to why I painted this, I don't know."

Jack nodded slowly, "Huh, guess its just part of your power. I mean, you said the paint tells you what to do, right? It talks to you?"

"No." I said, "I just kind of... feel it."

Jack paused, "Hey, how much paint do you have?"

"No clue."

"So... how about we put those skills to good use?" Jack asked.

"What did you have in mind?"

And that, my duckies is why Jack Frost flew me across the world and we had a blast covering the Three Pyramids in pink paint. The Egyptian government flipped out the next day. They were pissed.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't love this new life. Time used to be something that I never had enough of, but at the same time, I was never busy enough. Now, time seemed to be a myth. Time? No such thing. And if there is, it's of no importance to me.

ONE WEEK LATER:

Jack and I never really talked about anything important. Our conversations were about snow ball fights, and paintings, and pranks. I liked it. It wasn't one of those deep relationships where we knew everything about each other's checkered past, our hopes, ambitions, and our fears. It was just two kids, goofing off.

I hadn't had a friendship like this since kindergarten.

But at the same time, I knew if anything serious happened, like another attack form Pitch, then Jack would have my back, and vice versa. Because while we may not be best friends, we both provided something the other needed. Simplicity.

"Hey Spray Paint?" Jack wasn't looking at me, he was stretched out along his staff, staring down at the cars speeding down the highway. I'd bet all the paint under my skin that he was thinking about dropping a huge pile of snow down on one of the people on the sidewalk.

"What?" I was painting, again. I had been painting over a bill board on top of a roof we had been relaxing on. The advertisement about a new type of sleeping medication was slowly yet surely being covered by two elves, one wrapped in Christmas lights, the other holding a cookie triumphantly over its pointy head.

"Do you ever think that, maybe, you'd wanna meet the others?" He asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean meet North, or the Easter Bunny, maybe Tooth." He said, sitting up straight on his staff as he finally looked at me. "You already know me and Sandy, why not introduce yourself to the others?"

I shrugged, "I've thought about it, but I don't think I'd want to."

Jack raised an eyebrow, "Why not?"

"I've always been a very solitary creature, Jack." I finished adding a glowing affect around one of the yellow lights wrapped around the elf. "I tend not to socialize much. Being seen is one thing, having to participate in social interactions is something else entirely."

"But, you're fine talking to me, why not them?"

I paused, not really having a good answer for that one. "I met you under very different circumstances. I was lost, emotionally desperate, and you were there. The attachment that formed was immediate and without a forced feeling, because I needed some type of companionship. I don't wanna make it sound like the only reason I'm friends with you is because you just happened to be there-."

"Even though that's how it is sounding?" Jack asked, floating closer to me.

I shook my head, "No, it's more than that. You weren't just convenient, Jack. I'm friends with you because I like you. Your fun, prank loving self, I enjoy spending time with you. That's not because you were there, it's because you're you. And I couldn't ask for a better friend. But actually trying to meet new people, making an effort to be pleasant? I'd rather not. I'm more content painting than talking to people I don't already know."

He laughed, "Alright Mrs. Therapist. You must have been such a joy to have as a kid."

I rolled my eyes, "Geez, I try to be honest."

Jack hooked his knees around the staff, hanging upside down in front of me, and tapped my nose with his cold finger. "It's been fun my little Frostie, but I've got some Guardian things to take care of."

He pulled back, looking up at my now finished painting. "North would love to see this."

I shrugged, "You know, I've never really gotten feedback on my art before the whole re-birth thing."

"Never?" Jack asked. "I thought you were in art class, didn't the teachers ever-"

"He had thirty students in his class; I sat at the back, and never put my art in any school contests. I didn't try to draw attention to myself."

Jack smiled, "Well, allow me to be the first to tell you, you're art is amazing."

He waved goodbye, and flew away to wherever it was that he went all the time.

With him gone, my thoughts tended to drift. Drifting from my current artwork, to my old artwork. Jennifer used to say my art was to emo, but now all I painted was... kid stuff. Santa Clause, elves, tooth fairies, and magical sleepy sand. Now I'm painting pictures of hope, and wonder, and magic, when I used to paint the truth. I used to paint about loneliness, about suffering, longing, real things. My notebook used to be filled with things Lenny called depressing, but nonetheless they were truth. I painting people and things that society wanted to forget, so they would never be forgotten.

The sudden realization made me step away from the painting of happy little elves.

Where was the truth in this? Where was the truth?

I couldn't see any.

All I could see was a pointless doodle.

I considered myself a very tough person, not because I could hold my own in a fight, but because of how far I had come. I had gotten out of an abusive home, out of the ghetto, into a great school, as far away from my mother as possible. I had never shed tears over my mother. The only thing that had ever made me cry was Pitch, with his nightmares and pain he used to tear my young mind apart cell by cell.

But realizing that as an artist, I had gone soft, was enough to put me over the edge.

I cried harder than I ever had.

I cried out to the city, wishing that among it's dark corners and endless alleyways it offered some form of condolence, some hope that along with my eternity came truthful artwork by my hands.

It offered nothing.

But at least it didn't take anything away, and that, for now, was enough to consol me.

I stared up at the moon through my hazy tears, "Why?"

No answers were sent down.

"Why would you curse me to this life!?" I shouted. "You knew I wasn't some Disney animator, promoting heartfelt romance and family values. You knew who I was, dark! An artist dedicated to darkness and truth! Why would you take that from me? Why would you assign me to... to this!?"

In desperation, I jabbed a finger at the picture that a few moments ago, I had found pleasant to look at. All I felt towards it now was the upmost disgust.

"I'm not fit for this role, I don't do happy! I'm not good with kids, because they don't want the truth I offer. They aren't ready to see what I've always painted. I get that it's important to be honest with kids, but not the brutal honest that I have to offer." I wasn't going to get an answer anytime soon, but that wasn't going to stop me from asking, or at least letting him know how wrong he was to pick me.

"I mean, how stupid do you have to be to chose me to spread joy and shit to kids, huh!?" I snapped, "It's like you're trying to get me to paint depressing things for them. Even if that is your intent, it's not gonna work! I'm not going to mess with kids minds, that's Pitch's job!"

With the name of the person I hated most flown from my lips, an idea crept into my mind.

It was a twisted, horrible idea.

And idea Pitch himself had planted the seed of since my first nightmare.

"Unless... you did make me for Pitch."