"I would rather have a mind opened by wonder than one closed by disbelief."

-Gerry Spence


Nicholas St. North, or as he is usually called, Nick, sat in his workshop, surrounded by blackboards covered in chalk drawings, shreds of wood, tools, crumpled up paper, and half-built prototypes of anything you could imagine.

Nick is a jolly, friendly, slightly scary, loud, TOTALLY human inventor.

He was a giant man in a small chair (the spin-y kind with wheels, everyone's favorite) in the backroom of his little store, hunched over the table, no doubt in a position that was bad for his back. His face practically touched his invention he was working on. The room was completely dark except for one light that hung above his desk, almost as bright as a spotlight. The walls of the room were covered with blackboards. Chalk dust caked the floor underneath them, and drawings of basic designs for inventions lined up on the blackboards, some circled, some crossed out, some half drawn, and some half-erased. Hidden in the corner of the backroom were two twin swords, sitting in a giant vase, unused for fifteen years.

He heard the front door open, ringing the bell that hung in front of it. "Я буду права не!" he called (roughly translated: I'll be right there), eyes never leaving his new prototype. He spoke in Russian because most customers were Russian, and it was rare for tourists to come now that the Dark Ages have taken over. On his nose, he wore special glasses (of his own invention, naturally) that made his eyes look triple their size, magnifying everything he saw. He twisted the screwdriver, too small in his giant hand. The metal practically bent under his strong grasp.

His head snapped up at a loud crashing sound. "Я заворачиваю!" (roughly translated: I'm coming) He scrambled from his chair, dropped the glasses onto the desk, and burst into the front room.

There was a girl. Just one girl. The crashing sound was her collapsing. From what Nick saw, the girl had lost her balance, tried to catch herself by grabbing onto a display table, and falling onto the ground, knocking everything off the table. She was on her hands and knees, blonde, curly hair curtaining her face as she stared at the ground, gasping for breath.

"OH!" Nick ran over and put a hand on the girl's elbow, helping her sit up. She peeked up at him weakly from underneath her shiny blonde side bangs, and Nick gasped, recognizing her deep red eyes with flecks of gold. He opened his mouth, about to say something, when the door swung open again.

"Shine!" a voice called as the door slammed shut, the very name that Nick was about to gasp. None other than Jack Frost walked into the room, followed by Pitch Black, who carried a staff like Jack's. "You dropped your staff. You shouldn't run in so fast," Jack scolded as Pitch handed the staff back to the kneeling girl. Jack was unable to hold Shine's staff without burning his hands, so he had to ask Pitch to carry it in. Pitch's eyes trailed from Shine to the very familiar-looking man that kneeled beside her.

"North," Pitch said cordially, nodding and stepping back. Nick blinked in surprise, not having heard his old name for a long, long time. The Cossack hasn't heard much English in a long time, either.

"Is Nick now," he said with his deep Russian accent after a long hesitation. "Name is Nick."

"N-Nick?" Shine stuttered, trying to stand, leaning all her weight on her staff. Nick looked down at the kneeling girl, unable to hold back the giant grin that split apart his long white beard.

North -ahem, Nick- and Shine weren't enemies before, like the relationship between Jack and Shine. However, the two did butt heads a lot, and it was the understatement of the century to say that Shine was a pain in Nick's rear. But seeing her, alive and well, after fifteen years of her disappearing, after fifteen years of darkness, it was enough to make the man laugh with glee.

And he did. His loud, booming laugh echoed throughout his workshop. "SHINE!"

Shine smiled back, chuckling weakly but sincerely.

"Oh, blizzard!" Nick gasped with realization. "Come, come, let us go to fire," he took her hand and lead her to the backroom, where he did all his building. A fireplace burned brightly on the back wall, where he had Shine sit. Jack and Pitch both hesitated at the entrance to the backroom, looking around with curiosity.

"Yes, yes, you too," Nick motioned to them. "You join us."

Jack, grinning brightly at the approval, bounced in. Pitch just smoothly walked in, almost as if he was floating.

Nick sat at his desk, looking at the three spirits standing in the room. Shine sat, cross-legged, by the fire, hands in her lap as she looked up at Nick, smiling. Jack grinned, looking around with wonder (much to Nick's enjoyment) at the unfinished gadgets and gizmos that Nick was in the middle of making. Pitch just stood, arms crossed, waiting for someone to speak.

"You are back!" Nick exclaimed happily.

Pitch, deciding he would be the one to tell the story (especially because Shine still didn't understand most of it) spoke up. "Shine actually returned on the fifteenth anniversary of the Dark Ages. But she was human."

"Actual human?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, an actual human. With fake memories and everything. Apparently she had to die or something before she became a spirit again."

"Um, North?" Shine interrupted.

"Nick," Nick corrected, turning his attention to her.

"S-So..." Shine looked down at her hands, not sure how to word her question. "You're human? Like I was?"

Nick's laugh once again shook his workshop. "Oh, no! I am still immortal!" he said between laughs. "I am retired! I still have magic, I still have Wonder! But without Christmas, I have no job. So we try to live with humans, we try to blend in."

"We?" Jack questioned.

"We. The other Guardians," Nick nodded. "Have not heard from them for fifteen years, since you go and mess things up," Nick motioned to Pitch and Jack, half-jokingly, half upset with their wrongdoings.

"We came here for a reason," Pitch said, slowly getting annoyed with the changes of topics. "Though I'm not SURE what that reason is..."

"Oh!" Shine bounced to her feet, warmed up by the fire. Soon, she was her own self again, easily balancing on the top of her staff in a crouch, looking down at the others. "Right, my plan!"

The three looked up at her. "Well?" Nick pried.

"You still have your magic, right?" Shine asked Nick, who, even perched on top of her staff, wasn't as tall as the Russian Ex-Santa Claus.

"Yes, though I try to build human way," Nick motioned around his workshop of half-finished prototypes. "Is harder than it looks, yes?" He chuckled, remembering all of his failed prototypes just because his giant hands smashed them accidently, or he messed up the physics (as a spirit, physics is a difficult thing to comprehend, considering most of it doesn't apply to them).

"Well, dust off your ol' magic hands, Santy Claus," Shine grinned, using her old nickname she used to tease Nick with. "I need you to build me a necklace."


A man stepped out of the shadows, next to a building that doubled as the wall of an alleyway. Snow crunched under his black leather boots as he approached what he had come here for.

But, to his surprise, what was actually waiting for him was another spirit, with blonde hair and a bright smile, angel wings folded up against his back.

"I know we have no business talking to each other," the French man said. "What, with me being a holiday spirit and you being a humanity spirit."

"I'm well aware of who we are," another man said, leaning against the building, cloaked in the shadows. His voice, contrary to the flamboyant French accent, was low and gruff. He wore a long black cloak, hood draped over his head, covering his entire face except for his chin and his pale lips, turned down in a small frown. In one hand, he clutched some sort of weapon, that stretched just above his head and curved into a sharp blade. It was a scythe, a weapon that isn't common now-a-days. "Just get on with it."

The French man nodded, not wanting to make this spirit angry, especially since he probably already was considering he had tricked him into coming. "As you probably already know, Shine has returned fully."

"I know. Her mortal body died," the hooded man said with a bored twang in his voice.

"Pitch is convinced that she is the saviour."

"You mean YOU convinced Pitch that she is the saviour."

The French man laughed, not fazed. "There is no pulling walls over your beady eyes! Well, just keep this entre-nous, keep this between us, oui? I plan on taking her to the Mère. I think she can help."

"The Mother can not help with your plans," the other man denied instantly. "You know that."

"I think Shine can help with the Mère, and then the Mère can help with Shine!"

The man rolled his eyes, the action hidden under the hood. "And why do you bring this all up to me, Bird Boy?"

"One, they're angel wings. Two, you were trés helpful in bringing Shine fully back, even when she was just a tiny flea, I thought maybe you would like to help? If not, I could always ask your sister." The French man grinned brightly, gaining the reaction he had expected.

The hooded man growled at the mention of that devilish creature. "I'll help when I am most needed, brat, but don't expect for me to pop up whenever you need me. Not all of us work one day of the year, you know. And now with all the holidays gone-"

"Just because my holiday is gone doesn't mean my work doesn't continue all year and you know that. At least I'm not retired like most holiday spirits," the French man laughed, unfazed at his companion's insults. His giant angel wings folded open, showing that his business was done here, and it was time to part ways. The hooded man pushed himself off the wall, ready to get back to work.

"Mercí, mon amí!" the French one bowed dramatically, angel wings stretching towards the heavens.

The hooded man nodded. "Until next time."

"Goodbye! Au revoir, Grimm!" With one final wave, the man shot into the air, flapping his giant wings and disappearing into the night.

Grimm, as his name was just revealed, only shook his head at his flamboyant French friend, pale lips twitching upwards slightly. "You are planning something," he muttered. "But what?" He turned and melted into the shadows. The only sign that he was ever there was what he had actually come here for, a dead canary, half-frozen in the snow, staring lifelessly up at the sky, a full moon reflecting in its dead eyes.


So how did you like it? I want to know; if anything is confusing you (the retired Guardians, the mysterious French dude, or whatever) please ask. I'm worried that I'm not explaining things well enough.

And also, review if you want to see what Shine's plan is!