Chapter 14: The Pain of the Brave

"Ohhhhh no."

The North Pole had been replaced by a murky chasm, the air choking with a pungent scent Charlotte didn't recognize. She was standing on a silver bridge, rickety with boards, and saw Father Time at the other end. Above was a beam that held the whole bridge up, the ends supported by platforms underneath that latched onto the beam with rope.

"This is the Bridge of Judgment, Second-Sighted One."

Charlotte realized with bulging eyes that the whole structure was a scale, the two platforms the plates used for measurement. Making it to the other side would get her to the other plate.

"It is here that I will test your heart, to discover if you are worthy for my aid," Father Time continued. "Your goal is to reach me, here on the opposite side. Do this, and I will freeze time in your little town. Do not, and you will fall."

"F-Fall?" Charlotte peeked over her shoulder; the chasm seemed bottomless.

"You may begin when you are ready."

Charlotte was bewildered by the new environment. The task seemed simple enough, but she knew it must not be simple at all. She bent down on one knee and pushed down on the first step before her. It didn't bend or rattle to her touch, so she tentatively took a step forward.

A flash of silver sand erupted in front of her feet. The sand morphed and curved until it was a person, and Charlotte gasped at the sight of herself, five years old, crying into a teddy bear, sucking her thumb. "It was such a scary nightmare," five-year old Charlotte whimpered. "I've never had one so scary before. What is it?"

The shock of the physical embodiment of the memory of the first time she had her infamous nightmare sent Charlotte stumbling back. The memory morphed back into silver sand and the bridge teetered, her end slumping down a few inches.

"Father Time!" she shouted. "What's going on? What is this?"

But he didn't reply. Father Time didn't even make any sign that he had heard her.

Biting her lip, Charlotte took the first step forward again, and the memory flashed up again, just as vivid as last time. Charlotte tried to run through it, but the sand was stronger, pushing her back. As the memory replayed, Charlotte was having a difficult time holding in her frustration. "What do you want me to do?" she cried. "I—I don't understand!"

She breathed deeply. Focus. You have to focus and not let your temper get in the way. You have to . . . believe!

Charlotte almost had a heart attack as light began to crack on her chest and something poked out. In a flurry of alarm, she grabbed the handle-like object and pulled—and then she was holding one of the coolest swords she'd ever seen. It was curved and gorgeously sharp, the hilt encrusted with a large white stone. Purple twinkles leaked around the sword and seem to orbit around it. The emergence of the mystifying sword caused wind to blow her hair up and around her face.

Charlotte was at a loss for a cheeky comment for once. She just wanted to pass the stupid test and get the heck out of there. So, faith fueling her body, she stepped forward again.

The memory played again: tears, questions, an old, beloved teddy bear. Charlotte threw all her strength into the sword and swung it at the memory. The blade slashed through it, and silver sand flooded down into the chasm.

Charlotte stared. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen! This mysterious sword was her ticket to pass Father Time's test! But where had it come from?

That's not something to worry about right now, Charlotte mentally decided.

She gripped the hilt and made a move to walk, but halted when the reality of the test rained down on her like sleet. The test was designed to examine her heart, and she had just come face-to-face with a very bad memory. Was that the point of the test? Facing down bad memories?

The fact was already notorious to her: she had a lot of bad memories. And acknowledging them was something she was terrible at. She could do it when she was alone, but not to another person. Not to someone who was watching.

But she wanted nothing more than to get away from the Bridge of Judgment and back to the North Pole. So, reluctantly, Charlotte inched forward.

Silver sand blazed up and formed a new image: Jamie and Sophie, sobbing in her arms, and her mother sitting across from them, sullen and tired. She recognized it instantaneously: it was the day they had come home from a weekend with their grandparents and found out, together, that Abby had passed away from chasing a squirrel into the street. It had been an awful day; she had been up till five in the morning dealing with the shock of the loss, and had heard Jamie and Sophie's sniffles through her bedroom walls. Charlotte would never forget the looks of pure, stark heartbreak on her siblings' faces, and as the memory versions of them turned around to run to their mom, she was hit with the heartbreak again.

It was like she had been sailing peacefully on a boat and then it had hit jutting rocks, only it was her heart that was sinking. Charlotte mashed her lips together and sliced through the memory, hiking up the tilted bridge until a third memory arose.

By the size of her glasses, it must have been elementary school. She was sitting off to the side, alone, in a large room, and a group of kids were dancing in the center. The Fifth Grade Graduation Dance. Her mother had forced her to go, even though she hadn't the slightest urge to attend. Memory Elementary Charlotte perked as three boys waddled out of the throng of dancers and went to the snack table, getting punch and cookies. She sprung from her seat, smoothed her dress, and approached the boys shyly, sights set on only one: Rodney Lintskey, her first crush. They chatted for a few moments before Charlotte, who had one hand leaning on the snack table, accidentally pulled the tablecloth and the bowl of juicy red punch splattered all over her dress. Most of the fifth grade class—including Rodney—laughed at her, and she sprinted from the room in tears.

Slash. Charlotte cut through the memory with stony eyes.

Four more footfalls had her confronted with a fourth memory: middle school (a.k.a. hell) Charlotte, wandering around during recess. While other kids played kickball and hung out by the swings, she had always walked around the playground, just watching and silently wishing. Her hands were buried deeply into her coat pocket as she rounded a cluster of metal tables, where middle school Serena Kingston was with a group of girls. They started to peer at her and point and giggle, and Serena opened her mouth to say something to her, but Charlotte sliced through her and the mean arches to her eyebrows before the memory could finish.

Her pulse was pounding in her head. How much more of this could she take?

Charlotte was three-fourths across the bridge, head low, when the fifth memory materialized in front of her. She was sitting in her room with her mother, and to her surprise, her father was there too. Seeing him was the weirdest experience, like opening a time capsule from—what felt like—a hundred years ago. The distance between them while they sat on her bed was empty with unspoken words, but they were both holding one of Charlotte's hands.

"Sweetie, we're getting a divorce."

It was like Charlotte was being stabbed with her own sword. It was a moment she'd never forget—but how could you forget the moment when your parents told you they weren't in love anymore? She had been twelve, and it had been devastating. Secretly, she had thought it was her fault for years.

Her sword automatically came down and slashed the memory to particles, but the agony was growing within her. She hadn't noticed it before, but now it was prominent: the swelling pain in her chest. Charlotte hadn't revisited these memories for a reason. Encountering them all again, within the span of ten minutes, was beginning to be overwhelming.

Almost there. Just a little farther, and then you never have to think about these memories ever again.

Five more steps led to the next onslaught: a much older Charlotte, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, speeding around the house. She looked overworked and sleepy, swapping from dusting the TV to checking on the macaroni and cheese that was cooking, to pounding digits into a calculator. It hit Charlotte that it was her current reality: her mother working such long hours to keep the family of four afloat left Charlotte to the housework and Jamie and Sophie. For some time, it had made Charlotte angry, that she had to take on the roles of mother and sister. But by the time she was sixteen, she had adapted to the job and knew it was for the best. Her family didn't have a lot of money to begin with—the divorce was profitable to their side, but her father had already been on a plane to Japan by the time the money had come rolling in.

The feelings of hurt and frustration from the unfair situation of her past crashed over her like a wave. Charlotte wasn't even aware of her sword dicing the memory into shreds until the silver sand swooped past her and into the chasm below.

Father Time was so close, Charlotte could point out individual wrinkles and veins on his skin. A few more steps . . . almost out of this nightmare! The grey face of Pitch Black swam into her mind, and she pondered on whether or not he had played a hand into her test.

She was six boards away from the opposite platform. The taste of being close to passing a test intertwined with her taste buds. It was something she tasted often in school, and this was just another test to strap under her belt. So Charlotte took a literal leap of faith one board away from the platform.

The sand was slower this time, as though it was taking its time to craft a memory that would truly stop her. And then it appeared. Charlotte went cold. She recognized the memory only from the fury in her memory self's face, the way her body was positioned, the haze of exposition and, a few seconds later, regret, thick in the air.

The Charlotte in the memory's lips separated as she began to speak.

"No . . . no, I can't hear this. I can't see this! Not now!" Charlotte hissed.

Panic sparked in her and spread like lightning. It would break her to experience it again, in reality, when she was already dealing with it in her head.

"NO!"

Charlotte cut and slashed like a marauder fighting for claimed treasure. The sand split and split again before vanishing completely. She sprinted to the platform, panting and sweating. "I'm done . . . I'm done . . . I passed!" she cried at father Time. "I passed! Let me go back, please! It—" She gasped. "It hurts . . ."

Father Time finally addressed her harshly. "You have passed, child, but you are quite far from done. You defeated your past, but your flaw lies in your desperation to cast it from you. The past cannot be forgotten or erased. You must learn from your pain, or else you will never quench the thirst for answers and peace."

"A-Answers?" Charlotte asked in a wobbly voice. "What a-answers?"

"The answers the two of you both seek."

"W-Wait." Charlotte's eyebrows furrowed. "Two?"

Father Time swung his scythe again, and she saw him no more.

=!=!=!=!=!=!

The floor gave Charlotte a warm welcome as she fell on her back with an "oof!"

Father Time loomed over her, expressionless, as the Guardians watched with bated breath. Jack flew to her side as she sat up, biting back groans.

"What just happened?" Jack asked.

"The girl has passed the test of worth," Father Time declared. "I will stop time in this town for you."

"Ooh, Charlotte, you did it!" Tooth was to her left, hugging her.

"Excellent!" North boomed with a smile. "Phase one: completed!"

Charlotte removed her glasses and rubbed her face, hoping to wipe away any signs of distress. She noticed Jack watching her carefully but ignored it.

"How can ve ever repay you, old friend?" North asked Father Time.

"Payment is not necessary, Nicholas." Father Time ran a finger down the blade of his scythe, like he was checking for dust, and his hand came back with silver sand. "I will assist anyone who proves their worth to me. Let the Man in the Moon consider this a favor. But I wonder . . . what has Mother Nature so riled up?"

"She has been trying to kidnap Charlotte for many days now," North explained. "She has attacked humans and joined forces with the Nightmare King, Pitch Black. She has shown that she is villing to hurt humans. That is vhy you must stop time in Burgess: she vill have no von to use against Charlotte."

Father Time hesitated, but then said simply, "She always was such a miserable woman."

=!=!=!=!=!=!

An hour later, Charlotte, the Guardians, and Father Time were shooting through the onyx sky in North's sleigh. Charlotte was crammed between Jack and Bunnymund in the back, the wind whistling in her ears. In front of her, Sandy and Father Time seemed to be in deep conversation—Father Time was murmuring and Sandy was creating golden sand images in his hands to talk back. Tooth, next to them, stared uncomfortably out into the sky.

Finally, they docked on top of the Bennett household's roof, silent as a feather, despite the bulking reindeer and the rickety sleigh. North dropped the reins and turned around, white beard shining in the gloom of the six o'clock morning. "Charlotte. All you need to do is get inside and grab vhatever you vill need. Take your time. Do you have vay to get inside?"

Absently, Charlotte replied, "Yeah. There's a key."

"Very good. Tooth, Jack?"

The Tooth Fairy took one hand and Jack took the other. They lowered Charlotte down to her front door and waited as she plucked a house key out of the wreath on the door. Once the door was open, Charlotte gestured for Tooth and Jack to follow her up the stairs.

As Charlotte reached for her bedroom doorknob, Jack said, "Wait." He glanced backward. "Can I . . . can I go say bye to Jamie super quick?"

Tooth's plumage of feathers drooped. "Jack." Her voice was soft, comforting. "It's not goodbye. It's temporary."

"I know, but . . ." Jack looked to Charlotte, a pleading twist to his features. "Can I? Please? I won't wake him up."

The curve of the doorknob dug into Charlotte's palm as she squeezed. "Of course. Just sneak back here when you're ready."

"Thank you, Charlotte." Jack breezed across the hall and slunk into Jamie's room.

Charlotte entered her own room, Tooth right behind her. She switched on the light after shutting the door and Tooth gasped in quiet delight. "Your room is darling."

"Thanks," Charlotte chuckled, brushing hair behind her ear. "It's been cleaner, but I love . . . I love it. I'll miss it."

Tooth smiled sadly. "You'll be back before you know it. You have a room worth coming back to, and one worth waiting for."

Charlotte nodded, and then glanced out the window. "Yeah. And I've got a family worth fighting for. This plan is painful . . . but it'll keep my mom, Jamie, Soph, and the town safe. And that's what I need right now . . . knowing they'll be safe."

"But what about you? You'll be the only one not safe."

"I haven't been safe for a while, Tooth. But I'll be calmer knowing they are."

"I understand," Tooth murmured. "It's brave of you to think that way."

"Ya'know . . . part of me considers it selfish."

"What? Selfish?"

"Because, like . . . I'm stopping them from living just to keep myself from pulling my own hair out. Part of me . . . I wonder if it would be better to just give myself up to her, and then everyone would be safe. She'd leave everyone alone. Even you guys."

Tooth was silent for a second, and then she accelerated forward and put two fingers on each side of Charlotte's mouth, peering in. Charlotte stared up and made sounds of protest, baffled. Finally, Tooth let go and smoothed the yellow feather on her head back.

"Um . . . why did you do that?" Charlotte asked, perplexed, rubbing the sides of her mouth.

"I was looking at your teeth."

"Up close and personal? Was it necessary? Ugh, I mean, I know you're the Tooth Fairy and all, but I can't feel my lips."

Tooth smiled at her. "Do you know what I do as the Tooth Fairy, Charlotte?"

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "Collect teeth?"

"Yes. Teeth hold the most important memories of childhood, and when someone needs to remember something, I help them. Which is why I'm not a fan of Father Time's methods for the Bridge of Judgment." She giggled at the shock Charlotte painted on her face. "As the Guardian of Memories, I know how that stuff works. I'm not a fan of it, but I only protect the memories of kids, so I can't do anything."

"But aren't I still considered a kid?"

"Yes. You are." Tooth grew ashamed. "We needed Father Time's help, so I allowed him to perform the examination on you. I hope there's no hard feelings. I just . . . we need to do what's best. For you. And not having to worry about Burgess falls into that category."

"Don't worry about it," Charlotte replied, impressed by Tooth's flexibility to ignore her pride for the greater good, a.k.a. her sanity. "That's brave of you to do. But why did you pry open my mouth to see my teeth?"

"Well, for one thing, I just looove teeth," Tooth admitted shyly. "But, also . . . I wanted to see the teeth of someone making a sacrifice for the ones she loves, and the teeth of someone willing to leave behind everything she knows to venture into a world of things she's never seen. And how brave those things really are, if you think about it."

Charlotte blinked, stunned, and realized Tooth was right: she was making a sacrifice for the people she loved. And she was going into a downright scary world. But they were brave. She was being brave.

"Jeez," Charlotte whispered. "You are the Guardian of Memories."

Tooth just laughed in response, spectacular pink eyes flashing with kindness and affection.

The door creaked open, and Jack entered, looking crestfallen.

"How did it go?" Tooth asked gently.

"Well . . . I didn't wake him up, and I said all I wanted to say. I would say success," Jack said, morose.

"I'll say goodbye to everyone once I've packed," Charlotte decided.

Tooth and Jack assisted as Charlotte grabbed everything she thought she would need: a whole bag's worth of shirts, pants/skirts, undergarments, socks, pajamas, and one pair of sneakers. A second bag held her toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb, cell phone charger, retainers, copies of her favorite books, her spare cameras, her stuffed lion Ouja (she only slept with him on nights when she was really upset—or really, the past week), other toiletries, a flashlight, her treasured Mickey Mouse pen, a notebook, and ten dollars. She changed out of her pajamas and into a jean skirt, black tights, a thin grey button-up sweater, and a flowery top underneath before putting back on her winter garments.

"Lemme just say bye," she murmured. "I'll be right back."

First was Sophie. Charlotte slunk in and grinned down at the girl. Her tangled blonde hair was seaweed across her pillow, her body discombobulated under the blanket. Charlotte tucked the blanket more snugly under her chin and kissed Sophie's forehead. As she turned to leave, she heard Sophie sigh in her sleep, and watched in panic at the last minute as Sophie rolled out of bed. She jerked to catch her, but when she saw that Sophie was still passed out on the floor, she chuckled and put the blanket on her as she snored on the floor.

Next was Jamie. The boy was asleep, as well, shoulder rising and falling with his breathing. Charlotte crept in and watched him sleep for a minute. "I'm sorry to leave you," she whispered. "But I have to protect you." She kissed his forehead and nudged his stuffed bunny closer as well before exiting.

And then there was her mom. She was out in her bed, perfectly aligned, not a hair out of place. Charlotte frowned at the bags under her mother's eyes. "You work so hard for us, even though you can't be there as much as you want." Her voice was somber and tight. "I love you, Mom. I love you, and Jamie, and Sophie . . . and Dad. Wherever he is. And that's why . . . that's why I have to go. I won't let her hurt you guys. You're all I have, and all I'll ever want." A long kiss was planted on her mother's forehead, and then all that was left was the click of the door shutting.

Jack and Tooth didn't comment on her pinched face. It was taking all she had not to cry. But she could have sworn they exchanged a concerned look behind her back.

After locking the front door again, Jack and Tooth carried Charlotte and her stuff up to the roof. North, Sandy, Bunnymund, and Father Time were waiting, and after Charlotte's bags were loaded up, North asked her, "Ready?"

"Yuh," Charlotte managed through the lump in her throat. "I'm ready."

North nodded at Father Time, and the old spirit of death summoned up mounds of silver sand from his scythe. As the sleigh took the air, the sand stretched to every corner of Burgess, every house, every person, and every animal. It sparkled like snowflakes in the darkness, and floated up and began to form a barrier around the town, like the top of a snow globe.

Once out of the way, Father Time slashed at the air, and the sand shone and twinkled, radiating silver and white. And then it withered away, and Charlotte saw that time was indeed frozen: some people, who were leaving their house for work, were halted mid-step to their cars; the local paperboy was stuck in the middle of the road; stray cats, dogs, mice, and raccoons were frozen in the middle of excavating trash cans for breakfast; objects being moved by nature were stuck. But most of all, it was the silence. Burgess, a happy, jolly town that hummed with activity, was still and completely devout of sound. There was no wind, no breath, no sign of an invisible heartbeat. It was like her town, her birthplace, her home, was dead.

That was what did it. Charlotte wretched herself away from the terrible sight and cried into her gloves. Why does it have to be this way? This can't be happening. I don't . . . I can't . . . no . . . what have I done?

A cold arm wrapped around her shoulders: Jack, eyes full of pity and worry. "C'mere," he mumbled. "I'll make sure you can't watch."

And so she did. Charlotte inched into Jack's open arms and pressed her face into his shoulder, tears leaking out as her heart ached. A hand was rubbing her back; she heard Jack whisper, "Yeah, Sandy, good idea." A feathery, tiny hand took hers, and Charlotte estimated it was Tooth.

As she flew away from her frozen, silent home, Charlotte found the positives of being Second-Sighted outweighing the negatives. Because if she could see these dedicated, wonderful Guardians, then she was a unique, strange kind of blessed.