The wind whispers over Burgess, chilled and soft under a black, star broken sky. She's quiet tonight. Languid and gentle as she meanders through the city, content to simply observe. High overhead, the proud and endless MiM drifts slowly off, right on schedule. Only a small sliver of silver remains, wrapping around a dark gibbous in sleepy satisfaction as he gazes down at the Earth below. Tomorrow he'll take his well deserved rest, and trust his fellow Guardians to carry on in his absence.
Jack Frost keeps them both pleasant company, as he has done for the last three hundred years. The winter spirit stands precariously on the roof of the city's tallest building, looking out at the sights sprawled beneath him. There's something in the atmosphere tonight. Something in the orange lights that flood icy streets, or the darkness pierced only by warm, illuminated windows. The view is dazzling. If he could, he'd stare at it forever. Memorize the twinkling streaks of light reaching out to wrap his mind in their rosy embrace, the way a mother would her child in the biting cold. Not that he minds the cold. If anything, it feels to him how he imagines warmth feels to everyone else.
Few people remain awake at this hour. The streets are all but barren, save for a few vehicles trudging through the slush. They tickle the wind as they go, leaving her gasping, enthralled in their wake. She chases after them as if a child, delightfully curious and playful, but soon loses interest when they reach their destination. The people then find their way inside, only to join the rest of Burgess in its slumber.
Jack wonders what the others are doing at this time of night. The ones with their windows lit to break the darkness. He imagines a young man, studying at all hours for his upcoming final in school. Perhaps a child, rebelliously reading up well past their bedtime, despite their parent's warnings. An old couple, sitting warmly on the sofa as they reminisce through books of scraps and photos, smiling fondly over memories long since passed.
Every single one of those lights is a person with their own life, their own identity, each as unique as any one of his snowflakes. Someone to be loved. Protected. Parents, children, young, old, all blossoming and enduring pain and pushing past their limits every single day. All with smiles that light up someone else's day and words that others cherish.
An old ache opens up in his chest, the echo of a pain he's felt for centuries. He's always had the wind, and some semblance of the Moon to keep him company. But now...he knows what it is to be someone like those lights. He has a family of his very own. All that's left to do is heal.
And these people. These lights, that flicker on and off, that sparkle in the darkest times. They are what's important, no matter the age. Jack swore one thing when he became a Guardian, and it was to protect the people of Earth. He swears it again now as he stands swaying with the wind, and the temperature drops in his conviction.
By god, he would do his best if it's the last thing he does. For their sake. For his family's sake. He'd fight the darkness itself single-handedly if it meant those lights could keep shining.
The wind seems to finally tire of her slow wandering in Burgess. She hushes him, a loving caress across his cheek, before racing off to beckon clouds to cover sky and stars alike. It's time for snow. Jack smiles softly, a familiar sense of excitement filling him from head to toe. He glances once more at the breathtaking view before leaping from the rooftop in a flurry of snowflakes and with a determined sparkle in his eyes.
Far above, the sky begins to lighten. The Moon settles down for the second time this year, at peace and hopeful for the months to come.