I'm thinking it might be safe if I stay in the bunker for a while longer...and not because of the cliffhanger a couple of chapters ago.

(insert nervous laughter here) And I'm sorry about the delay...exams are coming up, along with a science project that I've been putting off because I'm lazy. I'll update in the next couple of days, though.

Well...I bet none of you were expecting there to be more than one type of Guardian, huh? That's right. There's Secondary Guardians, named because their abilities are focused through 'talismans' or objects that have sentimental value to the Guardian using them. Throughout the movie, I was wondering why Jack seemed to be the only Guardian who couldn't just use his hands as a focal point for his powers, which then led me to this conclusion. For example, Cupid would be a Secondary Guardian due to the fact that he uses a bow and arrow as his focal point. Makes sense, yes?

I'm noticing a pattern in the last few chapters with that darned fluff sneaking in. I think I may have an infestation...

Ah well. Not much happening in this chapter, but there'll be (more) action starting up next chapter, so at least you have something to look forward to.

Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians.

Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?

o-o-o-o

Time passed for the two Guardians as they continued to hide in the secluded and abandoned monastery on the cliffside, the days snatched away by Father Time's clever fingers.

Several days had passed since they had arrived, and Bunnymund was beginning to worry for Jack's health. The Winter Spirit had been deteriorating quickly, his skin becoming more pale than the Pooka had ever seen it before. Not only this, but Jack continued to clutch at his chest every couple of minutes, his brows furrowing as if he was trying to fight off some invisible enemy in his mind. The Winter Spirit had also been growing thinner at a rapidly growing rate. Bags were forming under his eyes, which had long since glazed over with the ever present pain he now experienced.

Bunnymund was finding it more and more difficult to lull the teen to sleep, even with his large form curled around Jack's small one. It was taking a toll on the both of them, Jack especially because he could tell that Bunnymund was losing sleep himself because he couldn't sleep. It just seemed to be an endless circle of pain and misery for the both of them. Bunnymund was beginning to lose his mind at Jack's state, and he finally came up with a solution. Or at the very least a possible solution.

He was going to go back to North's workshop and search the library for anything that could lead him to helping Jack.

o-o-o-o

Quietly, the Pooka snuck out from under Jack, running a paw idly through the Winter Spirit's hair before moving out into a different part of the cave to create his tunnel. He hoped that he would long be back before he would wake and notice that he had been gone in the first place, but with Jack Frost, no one ever knew what to expect. The Pooka's time with the young Guardian could prove that.

The tunnel was colder than usual, the usual soothing summer breeze that blew through it now a bitter and challenging wind that dared him to continue forward. Shuddering as he darted through, he made record time getting to the North Pole.

Entering the workshop once more, he was struck with how silent it was without the jolly Russian wandering around and supporting the yeti and the elves as they went about their routine lives. Grief struck hard at him, its jabs cruel. He paused, allowing himself several moments to mourn the loss of his friend before continuing on to North's personal library.

Stepping around the remains of the toys, paws sending up what appeared to be ash, he slowly made his way to the mysterious room, knowing quite well that North would have his hide if he was ever caught venturing in again. The Russian was fiercely protective of his books. Particularly the journals, which had apparently been around for centuries.

He wouldn't be surprised if they were. The man was a hoarder when it came to his precious collection.

Pausing at the door, his nose twitching, Bunnymund frowned for a moment, leaning closer to the doorframe. Very faintly, there was the unmistakeable scent of fresh rains and cold. It wasn't a recent scent, but it still gave him pause none the less. Jack had been in this room at least once before. And it was highly unlikely that North or any of the others had noticed, either.

Pushing open the door, he was hit with the sudden scent of North. It nearly took him off of his feet. He was almost expecting the jolly man to be sitting in one of the armchairs, a book in one hand and a mug of tea in the other.

But there wasn't. There was only silence, emptiness. It was as if there had never been someone living in this magical place.

o-o-o-o

He blinked curiously, turning to look at the globe as a small tingle in the back of his mind alerted him to a Guardian's presence. Stepping towards it, Pitch pressed his palms against the metal and closed his eyes, allowing the magic to guide his mind to the location.

"Well...it seems that a certain rabbit has wandered from it's den." he smiled, eyes gleaming in the dark. "Perhaps I should take care of this small problem."

o-o-o-o

His paws caressed the spines of the books, his eyes roaming across the titles, some in other languages. He knew of several titles that may or may not be able to help him, but so far he was having no luck. Growling softly, he raised his eyes to the higher levels, deciding that her would ignore most of the lower shelves and aim straight for the higher. Chances were that he would find more of what he was looking for up there rather than down where just about anyone could find them.

He grabbed for one of the ladders that lined the tall shelves, easily leaping up the rungs until he caught another flash of Jack's scent. Frowning, he found himself following the trail, losing it several times among the books before he came to a thin blue book with gold lettering. Pulling it out of its place, Jack's scent smacked him dead on. Obviously, Jack had been the last person to touch this book, judging by how strong the scent was compared to the one on the doorframe.

Pulling it out, he couldn't help but notice that it was a journal of some kind, and although the title wasn't in English, the contents were. Flipping open the book, his eyes narrowed as he realized what the topic of these notes were. The cursive writing that flowed across the pages had been written by someone who knew a lot about Guardians. Whether or not this mysterious author had been a Guardian, Bunnymund couldn't say.

It has been discovered that it is, in fact, possible for a Guardian to fade. If a Guardian who possesses a secondary base item to focus their abilities, it is far more likely that this type of Guardian can and will fade with more ease than another Guardian who does not possess these qualities. This is due to the facts that a secondary base item usually contains most, if not all, of this type of Guardians abilities. Therefore, 'Secondary Guardians', as they are known to be called, must be far more cautious in the sense that their item must remain protected or close to said Guardian at all times.

Guardians who lose or have their secondary item destroyed or stolen in any way, shape or form soon begin to go through what is less than affectionately called 'withdrawl', which has serious negative effects on the host's body. During this stage, a Guardian can be known to display exhaustion, mild mood swings, heightened aggression, and several other ability related symptoms. Physically, a Guardian may lose excessive amounts of weight in a short period of time, along with a deteriorating mental state.

Unless this type of Guardian somehow discovers a new object to focus their powers through, or recovers their current focus, the Guardian will die within a period of one month.

Bunnymund froze as he finished reading the chapter, his heart beating double-time.

Jack really was dying.

That was the reality of the situation. Jack was dying, slowly, because his staff had been broken. Jack's powers were focused through his staff. But Pitch had his staff, so there was no way to get to the staff without directly confronting Pitch. And that was something that Bunnymund couldn't take a risk for. Not while Jack needed protection.

But unless they could find something else, something new for him to focus his power through, Jack was going to die. He was gong to fade away from the memories of everyone.

Torn, the Pooka closed the journal but didn't place it back on the shelf. Rather, he tucked it under his leather strap that fell across his chest before turning, deciding to explore the remainder of the workshop for anything that could possibly help him in the coming battle. He knew that there was going to be a battle, of course, because that was simply Pitch's way. Once he finished his sneaking around, he would go for a strong offense and hope to take them off guard. This had obviously worked the first time with the other Guardians, but he was a bit more cunning than he was given credit for. He was a bit of a strategist, which North had relied on for years during the years when war was far more common.

Sighing, he continued on, his paws silent as the dust and ash muffled his steps.

o-o-o-o

The Nightmares closed in on the North Pole, their dark bodies bold in the pale sky. Heavy clouds had taken over, and there was a fog rolling in from the south, which only continued to aid them in their journey. After all, their mission was to take down the Pooka, and they couldn't have him realizing that they were coming until it was too late.

Their lead mare, the largest by far and Pitch's favourite, halted suddenly, her eyes honing in on something below. Pawing at the air they stood on restlessly, the remainder of the herd waited for their orders. If anything were to go wrong now, at this stage...

The Nightmare King would destroy them all.

o-o-o-o

Bunnymund affectionately ran his paws over the doors to North's personal quarters for several moments, trying to brace himself for the emptiness that would no doubt be awaiting him.

Pushing open the giant oak structure, the Pooka slowly stepped into the room, his eyes immediately landing on the desk, still covered with half made toys and sketches of toys that he would no doubt make in the future. A fond smile crossed his features at a memory of North when he had made action figures of all of the Guardians. They hadn't been mass produced, thank all that was holy, but it was amusing to watch North go up against Toothiana to try and convince her to give in. Needless to say, North had been shot down, and badly. Tooth may not look all that threatening, but when she got going, it was best to run for cover and hope that she didn't find you. Unfortunately for North, he was still ignorant to that fact about the bird-like Guardian.

Moving away from the door, Bunnymund ventured further into the room, looking over everything with a critical eye, not noticing the gleaming eyes following him from every shadow in the room.

o-o-o-o

They had grown in intelligence over the years, and now they were willing enough to wait patiently for their chance to strike. Slowly, carefully, they darted around the room, the shadows cloaking their forms with ease. The Pooka was now trapped.

The doors slammed closed, the sounds of the Nightmares outside the windows suddenly audible, and it was only then that the Pooka whirled, boomerang in paw. His ears were pricked, and in an instant, the Nightmares struck, surging from every corner and surface that they had hidden themselves, all of them honing in on the Pooka with wild cries.

He didn't stand a chance.

Within moments, the Nightmares dispersed, leaving no trace that they had ever even been there but the layer of black dust and a thin blue journal.