Disclaimer: I do not own "Rise of the Guardians" nor any of the characters who appear in "Rise of the Guardians," I just like to play with 'em every once in a while. Bunny and all "Rise of the Guardians" characters belong to William Joyce and DreamWorks Animation.

A/N: This chapter doesn't really need a lot of explanation, it kind of sets itself up, so, I'll just say; here's chapter ten, hope you enjoy!

Decisions and Mistakes

In which Bunny makes a decision and realizes a mistake and Sandy does one but not the other

The next day started off very much like the one before it; Aster awoke, startled and confused and half-mired in a nightmare world of his greatest fears. That morning, the vision was of a terrible future in which he had failed to bring Easter to the children and all had been lost. The Warren had been destroyed and this time he had not been strong enough to bring it back, Hope and Spring had never come and the children who he had sworn to protect had looked past and run through him. Even the Guardians, who had once been his closest allies, were disgusted by his failure and instead of rallying to his side; they had despised him and cast him out.

For the second time in his life, Aster Bunnymund had been small and weak and completely alone as he faced the looming specter of oblivion.

It was a terrible, evil vision and it was so very real that as Aster breathlessly splashed his face with cold water from the bedside basin, he decided that it was time for him to ask for help.

For too long he had dealt with these terrors alone and while at first he had sincerely believed them to be just another episode of a problem which had plagued him for years, now he was becoming increasingly convinced that something much worse was going on.

These nightmares were too real, too vivid and with every day that passed, they become more and more unlike anything Aster had ever experienced.

He had begun to fear that Pitch was involved and though his pride rebelled at the very thought of it, he could no longer deny the possibility. He was not as powerful as he'd once been and neither was his Warren. As distasteful as it was for him to admit; if Pitch was out to get him, there was very little standing in his way. He needed to talk to Sandy and he needed to do it now, because if Pitch really was up to something, the longer he went unchallenged, the more trouble there'd be in the end.

And so, even though he knew that taking Sandy into his confidence might involve sacrificing a bit of his privacy and maybe even a bit more of his pride, he nevertheless forewent his morning breakfast and set out in search of the Guardian of Dreams.

He had a pretty good idea of where the little fellow got off to at that hour, but even still; it took him a few tries to get it right. Eventually though, he managed to track him down deep within the heart of old Paris and after exchanging a few words of greeting, Bunny asked in an awkward, nervous way, if Sandy might have the time to discuss something of considerable importance with him.

Surprised and plenty concerned by Bunny's impromptu visit and grave expression, Sandy agreed to speak with him immediately and Bunny, relieved that at least that part of his task was completed, smiled gratefully and scampered up to join Sandy upon the roof of an impossibly beautiful chapel.

Once there, the two Guardians allowed a few moments of silence to pass between them; Bunny, because he was preparing his words and Sandy, because he was girding himself for whatever dire news was coming next.

Finally though, Bunny took a great, deep breath, marshaled his resolve and told Sandy everything.

He told him that since his family had died, he had periodically suffered from intense and terrible nightmares. He told him that they were exactly what one might expect from a being who had witnessed the destruction of his own people and that while they were never pleasant, they were nevertheless a part of life that Aster had long become accustomed to.

At that, Sandy had looked both shocked and saddened but before he could ask even a single question, Bunny had doggedly continued.

He told Sandy that lately, he had been experiencing nightmares of incredible intensity and disturbing frequency. He confessed that he was not sleeping and that without his usual number of believers to buoy his waning strength, the exhaustion was beginning to take its toll. He professed that he felt slow and weak and thoroughly devoid of his usual endurance. Then he admitted that while at first, he had assumed that it was simply another go around with an age-old problem, of late, he had begun to suspect that it was something much worse-that it was Pitch.

Unsurprised that Bunny had come to that conclusion but a little disturbed by the other things which he had been told, Sandy asked, with a series of flickering images, why Bunny had not come to him sooner.

Having anticipated the question, Bunny answered immediately.

"I've had nightmares for years," he told Sandy quickly, "and until recently, these felt pretty much the same. I just didn't think they were anything to worry about."

"No," Sandy clarified, "why didn't you come to me sooner about the nightmares?"

Bunny looked perplexed for a moment and then tried again.

"I'm telling ya, Sandy; I didn't come to ya' sooner because I just figured they were the same old same old. I didn't think that there was anything wrong and maybe it's a little stupid, but I didn't think that Pitch could really touch me even if he wanted to. But now…the nightmares are too getting real, too persistent. I'm slowing down and every day it's getting worse and I'm afraid that maybe I've made a big mistake her-."

"No," Sandy interrupted sternly, "Why didn't you come to me about the nightmares before?"

Bunny's ears drooped uncertainly and a bit of frustration crept into his tone as he answered.

"I don't—I don't understand what yer asking me, Sandy."

Sandy sighed and a barrage of images appeared above his head.

"I know why it took you so long to get worried about Pitch," the images said, "but what I'm asking is; why have you waited for hundreds of years to tell me that you suffer from nightmares?"

A furious blush swept up beneath Bunny's fur and he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously.

"Aww, come on, Sandy—they're no big deal; just a couple of bad dreams is all. I never woulda' even come to ya' if I didn't think that Pitch was-."

Golden sand exploded above Sandy's head and Aster looked up in surprise to find Sandy shaking his head with determined ferocity.

"That is exactly what I'm talking about," the images fairly screamed, "nightmares are not 'no big deal.' They are terrible and painful and there is no reason for you to have suffered in silence for so long."

Bunny's long ears folded downwards in embarrassment and he struggled to find the words to reply. He could tell that Sandy was angry and he was sorry for it but he had only kept the nightmares to himself because it had simply never occurred to him to do otherwise. By the time Aster had made Sandy's acquaintance, his problems had been his own for so long that he had plumb forgotten that it had not always been so. As a result, he had no more thought of asking for help with the nightmares than he'd had of asking Sandy to pull the moon from the sky. It had just never dawned on him, but now, as Sandy's golden eyes ignited with passion, he was beginning to regret that. He had anticipated having to endure Sandy's ire about his reluctance to bring in another Guardian where Pitch was concerned, but it had definitely never occurred to him that his unwillingness to confide in Sandy about his usual nightmares might become such a terrible point of contention.

However, it most obviously had and unfortunately for Aster, he had no idea what to do about it. He had sought Sandy out because he needed his help and now an oversight which he had made centuries ago seemed poised to ruin everything. Desperate not to alienate the golden Guardian, Bunny thought fast and swallowed his pride.

"All right, Sandy. Yer right, it was stupid of me not to say anything and I'm sorry—but that's not what's important right now, what's important is that I think Pitch is up to something and I need your help to figure it out."

Sandy's tirade halted almost immediately and his eyes softened with concern. He hadn't meant to lambast the younger Guardian; he'd only wanted him to know that he needn't have suffered alone. But somewhere along the line, that message had gotten lost in translation and apparently, now Bunny was afraid that Sandy wouldn't help him at all.

That had not been at all his intention and so, taking a deep breath and replacing his stern expression with a calm, gentle smile, Sandy told Bunny in no uncertain terms that things could not be farther from the truth.

"Don't worry," Sandy told him as clearly as he could, "Of course I'll help you figure this out. I only wish that it hadn't taken a potential assault from Pitch to get you to confide in me."

Bunny's ears drooped lower against his skull and he looked sheepishly away but Sandy waved a tiny hand beneath his eyes and redirected his attention back towards him.

"It's okay though," he assured Bunny carefully, "because I understand."

And he did, because Sandy understood that nightmares, like dreams, were peculiar creatures. They were both deeply personal and uniquely intimate and it was not unheard of or even abnormal for one to wish to hold them close and keep them private, particularly if someone was as predisposed towards privacy as Bunny.

So, yes, Sandy did understand. But even as he promised Bunny that he would indeed help him get to the bottom of things, he simultaneously told him once more that he still wished that Aster had confided in him sooner. They were friends after all, he reminded him and if the Master of Dreams couldn't occasionally help out a friend, then what good was he?

Bunny chuckled softly at that and Sandy reached out and placed a cautious hand against his shoulder.

"You can trust me," he vowed silently, "Just say the word and I will be only too happy to help."

The hesitant smile which had been playing precariously upon Bunny's muzzle suddenly fell away and for the second time that night, he had no idea what to say. He was amazed and embarrassed and touched all at the same time and as he fiddled nervously with his gauntlets, he realized that whether he'd intended to or not, he had sent Sandy the message that he didn't trust him.

Obviously, Bunny regretted this misunderstanding immensely and as he turned the situation over and over within his mind, he tried desperately to find the words to tell Sandy that very thing. But for as much as he wanted to assuage Sandy's hurt feelings and undo whatever damage he had done, he just couldn't seem to find the words. He had been prepared to deal with disapproval or even anger from Sandy, had the other found fault with the way he'd handled the possibility of a threat from Pitch, but he had not, in any way prepared himself for dealing with hurt feelings.

He was completely at loss and if Sandy hadn't suddenly smiled and patted him comfortingly upon the back, he might have sat there tongue-tied and troubled all night. But as it was, Sandy did pat him sympathetically upon the back and so he hadn't.

Instead, he had watched gratefully as Sandy had outlined his plan of assessment and attack.

First, Sandy declared, he would accompany Bunny back to the Warren and search the area for any signs of Pitch or his Nightmares. Then, regardless of what was found, he would furtively keep watch over the Warren and Bunny's cottage on that and a few random nights in the future.

It was good plan; simple and straightforward and though Bunny was not particularly enthusiastic about having an audience while he slept, he was far too worried about being a pawn in Pitch's game to do anything other than agree to the plan immediately.

And so, after Sandy had finished up a bit of work on the Emerald Isle, he returned to the Warren with Bunny and conducted a thorough inspection.

To their mutual surprise; he found nothing. There was not a trace of Pitch or his Nightmares anywhere and though in theory it was a propitious discovery, Bunny couldn't help but look upon it with a bit of dread. To him, it was less indicative of the benignity of the situation than it was of Pitch's heightened cunning. When, however on the first evening of Sandy's surveillance, neither Pitch nor his Nightmares appeared and Bunny still slept almost as fitfully as the night before, the two Guardians were perplexed.

It was at once both encouraging and disheartening. On the one hand, it could mean that there was no looming threat from Pitch and that Bunny really was only suffering from a reoccurrence of an age old problem. On the other hand, it could also mean that the stress of the situation had conspired to induce nightmares even when Pitch was absent and as such, did nothing to appease their concerns.

In the event of the first case, Sandy could only hope that the dear, stubborn rabbit would finally permit him to do something to help. And in the event of the second, there was nothing they could do except to continue to search and hope that soon, their efforts would be rewarded with real answers.

To that end, they decided to move forward with the next phase of their plan. In this phase, Sandy would continue to watch over Bunny and the Warren but instead of arriving every night, he would disperse his visits randomly and not even Bunny himself would be informed of when he was arriving.

The hope was, of course, that by maintaining an unpredictable schedule, Pitch might be more easily caught off-balance and he would either resume his regular activities and be caught in the act or be deterred from even trying by the threat of encountering Sandy.

Either way; it would be a tense couple of days and though the majority of the work was to fall upon Sandy's shoulders, Bunny was not without his own responsibilities.

Chief among these was his assignment to relax.

Over and over, Sandy urged the younger Guardian to take some time for himself and decompress. It would be impossible, Sandy told him, to accurately identify the source of his distress if he allowed the anxiety of the situation to continually affect the results of their experiments. In other words; he needed to do all that he could to ensure that when he slept, it was as natural a sleep as possible.

At that suggestion, Aster had rolled his eyes and snorted in frustration but when Sandy had lifted an eyebrow in gentle admonition, he had immediately heaved a sigh of defeat and nodded in acquiescence.

He would try; he'd promised Sandy, and the other Guardian, who was well aware of the reliability of Aster's assurances, had smiled with satisfaction and considered the matter closed.

After that, Sandy had carefully touched upon the topic of when and if the other Guardians must be informed and Bunny, with the air of one resigned to an unenviable fate, had offered to tell them all at once. It had not been the response that Sandy had expected and he believed it was a testament to how disturbed Bunny was by the whole affair that he had even suggested it. But, for as gallant as Bunny's offer was, Sandy did not believe that it was entirely necessary just yet. Thus far, they had found little evidence of Pitch's involvement and if it turned out that the source of Aster's distress was coming from within rather than without, then there was little reason to involve the other Guardians.

Obviously, a threat from Pitch was something they'd all need to be informed of but a private problem with nightmares was another matter altogether. Unless the situation somehow constituted a threat against the children, Aster was in no way obligated to inform the others of his affairs and until Sandy had sufficient proof that this situation did indeed constitute a threat, he was loath to reveal young Aster's most private demons to the scrutiny of others.

After all, he knew how difficult it had been for Bunny to confide in him in the first place and the last thing Sandy wanted to do was to give him a reason to regret it. If or when, it became apparent that Pitch was involved, Sandy would recommend that the other Guardians be told but until that time, he was happy to keep the matter between himself and Bunny.

Later, that decision would come back to haunt him, but at that moment, when Aster's eyes had sparkled with such earnest gratitude and naked relief that Sandy's heart had fairly constricted in his chest, the possibility of it ever doing so, never even crossed his mind. He was far too enthralled with the rare pleasure of witnessing an uncharacteristically unguarded Bunnymund and even more so by the fact that in that tender moment, the towering Pooka suddenly reminded Sandy keenly of the tiny, wandering, fluff-ball to whom he had once sent his sweetest of dreams.

But Aster was no longer that scared little Pooka and though he felt as if he should not be looking a gift horse in the mouth, he took a deep breath and asked Sandy if he was sure.

At first, Sandy gave him a queer, startled little look but after a second of consideration, his lips curled upwards in a gentle smile and he assured Bunny that he was positive. Then, before Bunny could utter another word, Sandy patted him reassuringly upon the shoulder, asked him one last time not to worry and promised that soon, they would get to the bottom of everything. Sandy's quiet confidence was like a salve on Bunny's rankled nerves and as he basked in the soothing comfort of a friendly touch, Bunny felt a little bit of his own weariness melt away. Too soon however, the hand was gone and Sandy was bidding him a fond farewell.

Genuinely grateful for everything that Sandy was doing for him and a touch overawed by it all, Bunny flashed him the widest and brightest smile that he could manage and waved good-bye.

Within moments, Sandy was out of sight and Bunny was left alone, in the Warren, with nothing but his anxious thoughts to keep him company. It was maddening how little information they had managed to gather and the more Bunny thought about it all—the more exasperating it became. Before too long, those maddening thoughts became positively riotous and Bunny was stuck tending a headache and wondering how he was ever going to relax enough to ensure that his own wretched mood did nothing to disrupt the outcome of Sandy's tests.

At this point it didn't seem possible that it wouldn't and irritated by his inability to calm his worried mind, Bunny decided that perhaps some work might prove distracting. In that hope, he gathered himself up and made his way down to his chocolate room.

Once there, he cast about idly for a few minutes, searching for a project that might seize his interest and keep his mind away from other worries but nothing really seemed particularly arresting at just that moment. Feeling a bit defeated, Aster slumped down onto his work stool and leaned heavily upon the cold, hard surface of his workbench.

And then he saw Jack's box.

It was more than halfway completed and if Bunny had been in a bragging mood, he would have said that it was a ridiculously gorgeous piece that perfectly called to mind the very essence of Jack Frost.

And if truth be told; it did.

But Bunny was not in a bragging mood and instead of congratulating himself upon the unrivaled perfection of his creation, he found himself turning it over and over in his hands and thinking about how enjoyable his last visit from Jack had been.

Apparently, there really was something to all that 'Guardian of Fun' business because of late, every time Aster had seen Jack, he'd had a great time.

In fact, the last time he'd seen him, Bunny had been so excited about his visit that the anticipation alone had been enough to pull him out of his sour mood and then, when the little scamp had finally arrived, Bunny had been so thoroughly delighted by his company that not only had his mood retained its newfound buoyancy but he had even been able to talk about his family with only the slightest hint of agitation.

It was strange, the friendly visit had put him so much at ease that Bunny had hardly thought about the nightmares at all that day and though they had returned the very moment he had fallen asleep, Bunny had still considered the day to have been a rather refreshing respite.

Aster hummed in thought and tilted Jack's little casket this way and that. It really was a lovely thing, Bunny admitted to himself. Every angle was exact, every engraving-pristine and the colors were beyond resplendent. The silvers were as pure as the light of the moon and the blues were a glorious mélange of the most dazzling midnight blues that Bunny had been able to conjure. Between the intricacy of the engravings and the inherent beauty of the materials into which they had been worked, even half-completed, the box was nothing short of stunning.

Bunny smiled softly and set the curio down before him. He wondered if Jack was busy.

As it happened, he wasn't. In fact, as he'd told Bunny when Aster had invited him on the little excursion, he was so not busy that night, that'd he'd actually been afraid that he was going to be a little bored. Bunny got the distinct impression that Jack was exaggerating a tad but since it was clearly for his benefit, he saw no reason to argue.

Besides, he wanted Jack to come.

And luckily for him—so did Jack. So much so in fact that before Bunny's invitation had even fully left his mouth, Jack had giddily agreed to it. He hadn't even asked when Bunny was planning on leaving or what exactly they'd be doing—he'd simply smiled with ebullient joy and said 'yes'.

At his unabashed zeal, Bunny had laughed heartily and clapped the boy gently on shoulder. Then as Jack had peered up at him with rapt attention, he had explained a few of the details and within minutes everything was set.

It was agreed that they would meet later that night at the Warren and from there, they would set out.

Jack had offered to begin their trip right away, but Bunny, who was sure that Jack had other work to complete before he could help Aster with his, had demurred with a grin and a gentle reminder of that very fact to Jack. The younger Guardian, who in his excitement had evidently forgotten that little tidbit, had flushed a deep purple and sheepishly agreed. Not wanting the young sprite to mistake his friendly reminder for anything so severe as a reproach, Bunny had tousled the boy's hair affectionately and told him how excited he was that Jack would be coming along.

The compliment (which was one hundred percent true) effectively dispelled any of Jack's embarrassment and in a flash, the ecstatic grin which had dominated Jack's features a moment before, returned with a vengeance. Satisfied that his friend understood that he had meant no offense by his suggestion, Bunny had smiled once more and bid him adieu.

By the time Aster had returned to the Warren it had only been a few hours since Sandy's departure and even fewer since Aster had been miserably lamenting his inability to relax and yet as he'd puttered around the cottage, putting things together for his foray that evening, he found (to his considerable relief) that his mood was much improved.

Instead of worrying about nightmares and shadowy threats, he was focusing on his job and the agreeable prospect of spending some time with a friend. And as he went about his work, he discovered that without such dismal thoughts to weigh him down, time moved much more quickly. Before he knew it, the sun had fallen and he had only a few more hours to wait until Jack would arrive.

A part of him supposed that he ought to try and get some sleep before Jack appeared because he'd barely gotten any the night before and he was sure to need the energy tonight. But the greater part of him just didn't want to chance it. He was in such a good mood after all and if he tried to sleep and it didn't come or he slept and the nightmares came back, or he got just enough sleep to remind him of how tired he really was, he was liable to ruin it.

Of course, if he didn't get some kind of rest, he'd be dead on feet in a few hours and that could be downright dangerous.

Bunny sighed and nuzzled his cheek into his own shoulder. None of those options were particularly attractive at the moment but a foul mood was probably less dangerous than a bad case of exhaustion. So, with a frustrated growl, he set aside his work and stomped irritably towards the bedroom.

But halfway there, a thought occurred to him and he turned sharply on his heel and strode backwards in the opposite direction.

He knew that he needed to get some rest but since he only had a few hours in which to do it in, he thought perhaps he might just settle for some dozing. It wasn't as recuperative as a solid block of sleep (which Bunny doubted he'd be able to achieve anyway) but it was considerably more attainable. Somehow, lying in bed and trying to force himself to sleep led to actual sleeping less frequently than just lying on the couch and reading a book or tinkering with some object. He suspected that it was because his activity distracted his brain just enough so that it couldn't fixate on how infuriating it was that he couldn't sleep, but whatever it was, it worked. Or at least it had worked in the past and though it hadn't been working lately it was still worth a shot.

He needed sleep after all and if nothing else was working either, he reckoned that he might as well try it, because even if it failed, he would at least get to catch up on his reading.

Bunny did not catch up on his reading.

He found that unfortunately, his body had reached the point at which he was too tired to properly comprehend the words on the page but not yet tired enough to overcome his anxious mind and sleep. It was an exasperating limbo to be in but he could neither force himself to sleep nor will his enervated mind to suddenly regain its ability to process the written word.

Drawing wound him up too much and cards hovered right within that awkward region where they were both boring enough to annoy him and yet not quite boring enough to make him sleepy.

Lying quietly upon the couch and counting sheep didn't work either and neither did lying face down upon the couch with a pillow on top of his head. He wasn't exactly sure where he'd gotten the idea that the last one might, but at that point he was trying anything.

Eventually though, he decided that sleep would just not be forthcoming that night and with a couple of choice words, he stalked across the room and plucked his old banjo from its stand. Then he plopped himself down on the settee sideways so that his long legs half-dangled off one end and his head rested on the other, and settled in that way, he began to pick out the notes to the oldest and saddest songs he knew.

He barely needed to think, let alone see to do it; his fingers had committed every chord and strum to memory long ago, so, he tilted his head back onto the arm of the chair and let his eyes drift closed. As he did so, he felt the sudden stinging burn of hot eyelids against gritty eyes and he groaned.

He was so tired.

Suddenly, a great lump of hopelessness welled up in his throat and a tingle of panic began to vibrate his nerves.

Aster hated that feeling.

It was the feeling of being helpless and hopeless and unchecked; it bred fear and frustration.

He refused to give in to it.

He took a deep breath and concentrated on finding the center of the music. He slowed his strumming and focused on the notes. He let them wash over and around him. He thought only of them and listened carefully to the way they blossomed and faded. He let them become longer and longer and as they did, he slowed his breathing to match. Every inhale and exhale coincided perfectly with the beginning and end of each chord and soon enough, little things like rhythm and tempo began to fell away until finally, Aster wasn't even playing a song anymore. He was just lazily picking out chords so that every note sang clear and true and then he was rolling on to the next.

It was hypnotic and after a while, his grip along the neck began to slacken and loosen and in order to keep the instrument from tipping over sideways, Bunny absently pulled it straight and rested the neck snuggly against his cheek. Then with his left hand still curled protectively around the body, the fingers of his right hand continued to amble lazily across the strings until at long last even they stilled.

The room descended into silence and Aster Bunnymund fell asleep.

A/N: Well, my friends, that there is chapter ten. I hope you enjoyed it and I hope you'll read on to chapter eleven, because it's up now too!

Next time: Pitch Black must alter the plan and Jack Frost discovers that there's more to the Easter Bunny than Easter.