Another update. Oops, should have been focussing on my other WIP story . . . ugh, I'm a bad author. :(

No, this isn't another installment of The Big Four, but I just . . . couldn't, sorry. Anyway, I really DO need to put some time into my other story, so, eh, probably won't update this one until I manage to finish the next chapter for it. Please don't give me crap about it, I've got a lot on my plate with exams coming up and other stuff.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all recognizable - but I do own a major sense of anxiety (midterm exams coming up in just under two weeks and I haven't studied. At. All.) But, hey, anybody want to trade schedules with me? Take my exams for me, and I'll do your homework for a week? . . . Anybody?

It wasn't until they were three weeks in that the Guardians realized Jack didn't have a home. He'd stop by one of their homes for the day, chattering and helping out, then he'd leave and return the next day. Once, when he'd been part of the team for only a week or so, Tooth had asked to see where he lived; Jack had taken her to his lake, showing her his favourite tree with something a kin to pride, eagerly showing her the sturdy branch he slept on, and the way he had decorated the trunk with beautiful frost patterns – his most recent addition to the designs had been depictions of the Guardians themselves.

Tooth had been in complete awe, studying her little frost picture in depth, tracing the edges with her fingertip, trying to hunt out any consistencies, any flaws, but unable to find one. She had looked up to see Jack's shining face, flushed with nerves and pleasure at having someone, anyone, see his prided artwork, and she had praised them reverently, spending a good half hour solely on the topic, begging to know how he had done it, and if there were others she could see. Jack had shrugged, simply saying that he did his best work when at home – and that had been when Tooth had known, had realized.

At first, she had been completely aghast, tears in her eyes as she begged to know why he hadn't told anyone, why he hadn't done something to better the situation – couldn't he make a home, a proper home, for himself, possibly even out of ice and snow? – Jack, however, had look utterly confused, insisting that the tree and lake was his proper home, and what else he could he possibly need?

She hadn't pushed the issue further, instead entreating him to come to one of them for a place to sleep and eat, before she turned her attention back to intricate frost designs, because she could see that the home discussion was uncomfortable for him, and he thoroughly enjoyed delving into secret techniques he used to make his wonderful winter masterpieces.

Afterwards, however, she had immediately called a Guardian meeting – leaving Jack out of it, despite the guilt that it caused her to do so – and brought the topic up in discussion. Everyone but Sandy had been shocked by the revelation, while the sandy little man and simply nodded sagely, looking sad but unsurprised. Perhaps he had guessed their youngest member's situation, or maybe Jack himself had confided in him before he became a Guardian – they had been, not close, exactly, but close enough that they had spent a few nights together while Sandy was doing his nightly rounds – either way, Sandy was not at all as astounded and horrified as the others.

They had staged a sort of intervention, really, calling Jack to the Pole and sitting him down. They had told him all about the importance of having a set home, someplace to return to every night, someplace to call your own. He had actually scoffed at them, thought it was a joke, a trick, something to be laughed at and scorned. It hadn't taken long for him to see their seriousness, however, and he had sobered quickly. Outrage had sparked deep in his icy orbs, and he had sprung to his feet, clutching his staff as he demanded to know why it was any of their business.

They had responded gently, with calm, kind words, and sincere sincerity, trying to soothe, trying to be understanding as they explained why they wanted to help, why they wanted him to accept that help and come to them; but Jack had stormed and raged, a terrible temper showing through as he had stomped to the window in an attempt to escape, only to be caught by Bunny.

Jack had brought his anger back under control, only to be coloured by confusion. He had asked them, plain and simple, why they cared. They had talked, tried to convince him for a full couple hours, but with little success; by the time Jack had left, he had still had traces of doubt upon his face.

So the Guardians had decided to show him.


It didn't happen very often, but every now and then, Jack would fall asleep in one of their homes. The first time it happened, he had been in the Warren, inspecting the googie-flowers curiously while absently talking to Bunny, who had been busily organizing the egglets into something resembling a neat formation. Bunny had briefly left to recapture a stray egg, and when he had returned, he had found Jack napping in a patch of flowers.

After he had gotten over the initial shock, he had carefully carried the winter spirit to a secluded section of his home, somewhere Jack could rest and wake up in private, able to fly off whenever he wanted without being faced with the embarrassing situation of having to talk to Bunny.

The next morning, he had been gone, and Bunny wasn't surprised. However, frost patterns had been drawn on the walls, beautiful and exquisite pictures that depicted various scenes to be found around the Warren. Bunny never knew if Jack stopped by to sleep there again or not, but he made sure to leave an obvious entrance near his lake if he ever wished to, and he made a point of keeping that particular area of his Warren several degrees colder than he himself preferred.


The second time, Jack had been at the Pole. North hadn't known he was there – since becoming a Guardian, Jack had found much more effective ways to break into the Workshop – until one of the Yetis had told him of his presence. It had been a few minutes before he had been able to get away, and when he did, finally, find the spirit, he was sprawled atop one of the long work tables, looking extremely uncomfortable, but deeply asleep.

Not wanting to wake him, North had simply thrown a blanket over him and stuffed a pillow under his head and left him there. However, he had stationed a Yeti in the room to lead Jack to a proper bed as soon as he awoke. The Yeti had returned several hours later to say that Jack had hastily escaped as soon as he woke up, but that he had listened to the offer of a bed.

The next night, North had found the bed sheets in the room he had set aside for Jack slightly rumpled, though it looked like someone had tried to clean the place up the best he could. North pointedly started to leave the window of that room open every night, and never waited around for the winter spirit to arrive, so as to avoid putting any pressure on the boy.

One morning, he came in the room to see mounds of snow in the corners and ice on the walls and ceiling. Ice sculptures littered every available surface, and each was more beautiful than the last. North spent a long time simply admiring them, careful not to disturb anything. There were sculptures of elves and Yetis, of toys and Christmas trees, of decorations and North himself – even the sleigh and reindeers. When he eventually left, he tiptoed out the door, worried that he might upset something and alert Jack to the fact that he knew he stayed at the Pole every now and then.


Tooth had been going around her Palace giving orders when she had stumbled across Jack. He was in the memory vault – how he had gotten in there she never knew – and was fingering his memory canister. She had willingly sacrificed several minutes out of her busy schedule to speak to him, give him permission to see his memories whenever he wanted to.

She never knew what he did in there with them; maybe he watched his memories over and over, cataloguing every moment over and over. Maybe he simply stared at the canister for hours, wondering and thinking, longing and grieving. She didn't know, and she didn't try to intrude on his private moments.

One day, however, after he had spent a particularly long time in there with his memories, she got a little worried – she had no idea what his memories held, and was worried that maybe he was remembering something traumatic – so she snuck in to find him slumped over in the corner, the memory box held tightly in his hand as he slept, head resting on the floor and his feet against the wall. She briefly wondered how on earth he managed to get into that position, before cautiously picking him up – he was surprisingly light, but she supposed he was supposed to be 'as light as a snowflake' – and carrying him to a more fitting area for sleep.

She didn't have guest quarters in her Palace, not like North, but she did have areas where the others could nap if the situation called for it. Tooth placed Jack there, tucking him in as best she could with the thin blankets she had at her disposal. She had to go back to her duties, so she left him there for several hours. She checked in on him when the sun set, only to find the blanket neatly folded and put off to the side, and fading trails of frost leading away.

Tooth had left the blanket there, and later added a pillow, just in case Jack ever decided to revisit her Palace for a nap, or just fell asleep next time he was watching his memories. But Jack never came back to watch his memories; he stayed away from the memory vault, but he did still stop by for visits. Occasionally, Tooth would think she heard quiet sounds coming from the 'napping area', but she never went to investigate, knowing that Jack probably didn't want her knowing he was there.

Every morning, however, she found the blanket perfectly folded, with the pillow placed on top, all mess cleared, and fresh trails of frost – later on, designs made of frost found their ways onto the walls and floors. Tooth always admired them, but remained careful not to disturb them.


Unlike the others, Sandy had no problem with letting Jack know that he knew he was there. It started when Jack had inhaled too much dream sand and randomly collapsed one day, several weeks before any of the other Guardians had started finding him asleep in their homes. Sandy, rather used to such developments among his fellow Guardians, had calmly lifted the boy up onto his dream sand cloud and had floated him alongside his own cloud – for they had been going about his nightly rounds when Jack had fallen asleep – until he had finished his route, at such time he could finally return to his own home, boy in tow, and deposit him safely into a freshly formed bed.

While Jack had slept, Sandy had went about his usual business; that is, he re-formed his home several times, thought up more dreams he could give, and took quite a few naps here and there. By mid-afternoon – the time Sandy usually set aside for a visit to another Guardian or a quick travel through the world, chatting to season/holiday spirits every now and then – Jack sleepily awoke. Due to the effects of the dream sand, Jack wasn't fully awake at all, otherwise he probably would've fled as soon as he was conscious. Instead, he took a few minutes to blink the drowsiness from his eyes, even resorting to rubbing his eyes and stretching out his back and legs.

Sandy waited patiently in front of him as the winter spirit orientated himself, slightly amused by the whole thing. When Jack finally appeared at least somewhat awake, he took a second or two to realize where he was. When he did, he immediately jumped up and kicked up his staff with his foot.

Sandy started franticly waving his arms, trying to stop his desperate flight. Though he was shorter and smaller than Jack, the boy still paused, looking fairly uncertain.

The dream weaver formed pictures above his head – a plate, a fork, an apple, and a glass – and waited for the message to sink in. Again, Sandy was struck with the pleasant surprise that Jack got what he was saying far quicker than any of the others probably would have. Though still hesitant, Jack nodded, looking fairly pleased with the idea of breakfast.

Before he had left, Sandy had made sure Jack understood he was perfectly able to stop by for sleep or food.

Sometimes, Sandy would catch Jack darting through his home for a quick snooze, and every time he would follow and try to welcome him pleasantly; each time, however, Jack seemed to get better and better at hiding from the dream weaver in his own home. Sandy persisted, though, determined to let the boy know that he didn't need to hide, that he would be welcomed with open arms no matter what.


Slowly but surely, Jack was shown he was welcome in every Guardian's home – but he seemed to prefer North's Workshop, though that was probably just because of the toys . . . and Yetis . . . and elves . . . and reindeers . . . and the sleigh – yet he did visit the Warren quite a bit as well – again, most likely because of the irresistible chance at freezing the place over and annoying Bunny – and he did rather like Sandy's place, because of the constant changing and shifting of the place. Tooth's Palace was always a favourite visiting place of his, since it was so open, and the Wind had easy access into the place, allowing him to fly around like he was outdoors.

One day, Jack fell asleep at the Workshop – and didn't fly off as soon as he awoke. He got up and walked – well, okay, flew – down to the kitchens to join North for breakfast. Santa had played it cool, acting unsurprised as he greeted him as if he had always expected him to show his face that morning.

Not only that, but Jack had actually stayed. Other than a few trips out to spread his 'fun', Jack spent most of the day – and the days following – in the Workshop. North didn't point it out or ask about it; he just let it be. He welcomed Jack every time he returned, asking him how his flight was, whether he had any more believers, offering a plate of cookies or a mug of eggnog . . .

Eventually, North realized – as well as the others – that Jack had claimed the Workshop as his own home. He barely ever returned to his lake, and never slept there anymore; he rarely slept at the others' places, and his Workshop room was more filled with frost patterns than ever – fit to bursting, really.

Slowly but surely, Jack moved into the Pole, and secured his role as a Guardian more so than ever before.

Short, I know, but I sort of loved this concept (so much so that I literally wrote this chapter in one sitting while half asleep and really sick)

Thanks for reading. Please review.