A/N: I'M ALIVE. Hi, guys, hello, I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update, I really am. Are you ready for excuses? Okay, here we go. The sparknotes version is that I have had crazy creative block and could not bring myself to draw or write for a while. Elaborating more, I'm still looking for work with absolutely no luck which is a great, great motivation killer. I also had some heath things going on, which basically amounted to taking a bunch of tests to confirm that I have seasonal allergies (but apparently really bad ones). So, yeah, I am very sorry it's taken this long to update but I've just been... so unable to focus on this or any other creative venture for the past few weeks.

Now for responses to reviews you guys probably don't remember writing since I took so long! StrawberryObsession, unfortunately we're in the summer, story-wise! There's still quite a bit of time for Jack to suffer. AkariWolfPrincess, those poor stubborn boys would definitely be better off grieving together, agree. XxKeyOfHeartxX, Thanks so much! At some point I hope to draw Jack and the penguin. ArouraBorialice, thank you for your review! Glad you enjoyed the last story and have enjoyed this one so far. I hope you didn't get too bored waiting for this update, oops. ForeverACharmedOne, oh yes, Jack is going to be very much unhappy about this. To be fair, Jack is unhappy about a lot right now, as is everyone, lol. burnblebee, I'm hoping for more light-hearted scenes as we go on for sure! But I do enjoy working with the sad emotions, too. dinohuntsmen, I hope you don't hate me, haha. But right! The stamina contest back in Something Quite Peculiar! Rowan's parents actually came home in the middle of it, so they put it on pause and intended to pick up again some other time. So, technically it was a tie. Figments of Delusion, Poor Jack indeed!

Jack could easily tell himself that, try to believe it because it was nice to think. But in the back of his mind he would just end up wondering if it was, in fact, true at all.

Chapter Four: Stuck in the Past

With a flash of light, Clio appeared in her workshop, dark circles beneath her brown eyes and her normally impeccable ringlets askew. She plopped down at the table beside Bunny, who was fiddling with some half-finished contraption that she had left there.

"So, where were you? Or, should I say, when were you?" Bunny inquired.

Time travel was a tricky business. Clio appeared to have only been gone for a few seconds. Honestly, she had no way to truly calculate how long she had spent jumping around the timeline, observing different events over and over, as though rewinding an old tape.

She could never interact with anyone or anything. No one knew she was visiting. She could only watch and try to learn.

"Dark ages," Clio said, having not specified what her plan was when she had hastily told him she was leaving for a time.

She watched as Bunny continued to make adjustments to the device in his paws. Had it been anyone else and any of her other inventions, she'd have been furious that he was handling it without asking first. But this particular item was a collaboration.

An attempt to neutralize another invention of theirs that was no longer in their possession.

"Again?" said Bunny. "You're going to drive yourself mad, watching that happen over and over."

"What if I missed something? Some kind of pattern in Pitch's behavior, some secret ally he might try to reconnect with now?" Clio asked, rubbing the sides of her head and groaning softly.

"I told you, Pitch doesn't collaborate much. He sticks to his minions. Most mythical beings don't care to associate with him, even his daughter wants nothing to do with him," Bunny said. "The only thing that's changed now is that he's got one hell of a bargaining chip."

"Melpomene associated with him," Clio pointed out.

"Melpomene is the personification of tragedy. And an instigator," said Bunny, setting the device down.

Clio snorted. "You don't have to tell me. The thing is, Melpomene isn't the only one like her, she's not the only one that wouldn't bat an eye at spending time with the Boogey Man. She's just the only one that was on our side the whole time."

"Would have been useful if we had known she was on our side the whole time," Bunny mumbled, reaching for some blueprints and pulling them over to take a closer look.

"We've already talked to her about communicating with us more. She's going to try but it goes against her nature, it's like she's programmed to put the most tragic outcome in motion whether she knows it or not," Clio said, shaking her head.

Bunny made a noncommittal noise in response. It was no secret that Bunny wasn't a big fan of at least half of Clio's sisters.

There were times she didn't really blame him.

"Do you think Mother Nature would have any insight?" Clio asked.

"Sandy can try to talk to her but I don't think it'll help. They're not close, she only intervenes in his plans when it benefits her somehow," Bunny said, eying the blueprints carefully. "I still say this should have been more of an elliptical shape."

"You mean an egg shape. You and I both know it's not practical," Clio said, rolling her eyes. "And, well, the bomb is capable of causing a lot of damage, to man-made structures as well as natural ones, so surely she'd be concerned?"

"That's true, I'll mention it to Sandy next I see him," Bunny said. "And an egg shape is almost always practical."

Clio couldn't help but laugh slightly. She and Bunny had been friends for centuries and she wasn't quite sure how many times they had this debate over egg shapes.

"Speaking of natural structures, I am just about done with the tunnels," Bunny said.

"Oh?" Clio said, eyes lighting up as she stood from her seat and walked over to a newly-installed door on the other side of the room. Pulling it open, she revealed a tunnel, tall, wide, and deep. She couldn't gauge how far it went from here, as the light from her workshop only went so far. "Oh it already looks better. What else is there left to do before we can start construction?"

"Just a few more of the pockets you wanted for the rooms, I've been digging on my down time," Bunny said. "Honestly, I can't believe it's taken you all this long to make some kind of home base for all of you."

"The Muses are nomadic, we go where creative people are," Clio said, grabbing a hand-crank operated flashlight from the nearby shelf of knickknacks and turning the handle to take a better look at the tunnel. "I only built this place because I needed somewhere to work and store my things. But we should have a safe place to come back to. An actual home that belongs to us."

"Are you sure this is the best place to put it? I know the workshop's already here but there are other mountains to tunnel through, mountains that don't have as many mortals hanging around," Bunny pointed out.

"You know how important Mount Parnassus is to us," Clio said, letting go of the flashlight to lovingly pat the nearby stone lining the tunnel. "We were all reborn here. People worshiped us here."

"And Dionysus and Apollo. They won't be upset?" Bunny said.

"Apollo wants us safe. Once I figure out the magic to protect this place, we'll be incredibly safe here. And Dionysus will be fine as long as we invite him to the housewarming party," Clio said with a shrug.

Bunny stifled a laugh. "How's the, uh, magic going?"

Clio pursed her lips at the pooka's laugh. "I'm getting better! I didn't train with a wizard like North did! It's not all that different than machinery, it's just… It's got a learning curve. I've almost got the portals right, then we can stop borrowing North's."

She gestured to a basket in the corner, full of small snow globes, all containing various disastrous scenes rather than the tranquil snowfall seen in North's snow globes.

"If you say so," Bunny smiled.

"How's the Frost situation going?" Clio asked, clearly eager to change the subject from the issues she was having with one of her many tasks.

"Last I saw him, he still hadn't slept. I keep telling North, eventually he'll just collapse from exhaustion and we won't have to worry about it anymore," Bunny shrugged.

"I think Calliope wants to knock him out," Clio said, "But I haven't talked to her very recently. Or, perhaps it just feels that way. My perception of time gets a little boggled when I've been going back and forth."

"He won't like that, I say just let the kid wear himself out and he'll sleep soon enough," Bunny said. "He'll figure out he can't just keep doing what he's doing."

"Well, I would hope so," Clio said. She and Bunny looked up suddenly at the sound of three sharp knocks on her front door. Clio walked across the room and glanced through the peephole carefully.

"Hm. Well, Calliope and Sanderson are here, I hope they've got good news," she said.

Erato reached for the roses meticulously placed in her hair, patting them carefully to be sure they hadn't become askew while traveling through the portal that brought her to the busy North Pole. The sound of toys being tested and yetis babbling in their native tongue had become something of a comfort over the past few months.

She and Polyhymnia had been placed at the pole until the Shadow People were taken care of. At that point, they were clear to leave. Polyhymnia graciously had done so, going about her usual business.

Erato, however, had chosen to stay, still occupying the room that had been given to her. She liked it here; she liked having somewhere to come back to.

Clio was working on a home base for the Muses to serve that purpose, which was a great idea, it truly was.

But something about the pole just felt like home.

"Some day I'll get used to traveling by snow globe," Erato muttered once her hair was adjusted. She was ready to walk toward her room when she saw North rubbing the side of his head as he watched the globe turn slowly.

"Something troubling you, Nicky?" Erato asked, approaching the man, her heels clicking as she walked.

She could see him blush slightly beneath his beard and Erato couldn't help but smile. He still got bashful about the name she insisted on calling him.

"Calliope and Sandy were just here," he said with a slight sigh.

"Oh, did they tell you about Athena? Mel and I ran into them on our way to talk to Min," Erato said.

"Yes, but also discussed Jack," North said. "He is sleeping in one of the guest rooms."

"So you finally got him to sleep! That's great," Erato said. North didn't exactly look thrilled about this development, however.

"More like, we made him sleep," North said.

Erato winced. "Oh, he's not going to be happy about that when he wakes up, is he?"

North shook his head. "No. Is for his own good, though. He was hallucinating."

"Poor boy. He's really broken up over Rowan," Erato said, shaking her head slightly. She watched North carefully, his eyes still fixed on the globe. She remembered the man after Yelena had passed, quiet and burying himself in his work.

Or, at least that's what Erato had seen. She had no idea how he had dealt with it when she wasn't around.

"I just do not want him to distance himself further when he wakes up," North said.

"Jack's like you, he's stubborn," Erato said, setting a hand to North's arm in what she hoped was a comforting way. "He'll be mad that you made him do something he didn't want to do. But he's not an idiot, North, he knows this is all out of love."

"I hope so," North said.

"I know so. He's lucky to have you around while he's going through this, whether he realizes it right now or not. And believe me, ninety-nine out of a hundred times, they'll never actually admit you were right," Erato said, offering the man a smile.

North smiled in return. "No, they certainly won't… have you heard from your son?"

"I haven't!" Erato said with a short, frustrated sigh. "He's been making himself scarce ever since he broke his wing. When I have seen him, he's always in a rush to go somewhere else. I told him to just take it easy while his wing heals but… well, it would seem I surround myself with stubborn men."

North chuckled slightly. "What does that say about you?"

"Maybe I like a challenge," she smiled.

Jack Frost was not short on dreams; the Sandman had made sure of that. If left to his own devices, his tired, mournful mind would have conjured up its own images to haunt him with.

Instead, whimsical stories played through his mind, one after another.

Pirates, princes, princesses, dragons, fairies and wizards! Epic quests and grand rescues! Magic spells and great battles!

Some of the stories felt familiar, others were new. But even as he slumbered, these images passing through his mind and twirling through the dream sand above his head, Jack couldn't help but feel that something was missing.

Stories and characters seemed to blend into each other, as was often the case in dreams. By the time he opened his eyes, everything was mostly a blur of happy endings and nice, neat, resolutions.

The first time he forced his lids open, his eyes stung in protest and he closed them immediately, burying his face in the soft whatever it was he was curled up next to. What was he curled up next to, clinging to for dear life?

He groaned slightly, torn between wanting to know where he was and what he was holding on to, and not wanting to open his eyes again. He could feel that his eyes were bloodshot and strained still. His head was heavy and lifting it from the pillow seemed like it would take more effort than he had ever put forward before in his life.

How long had he been out for?

Yawning, Jack forced open his eyes again, finding a stuffed emperor penguin beside him. He furrowed his brow as he eyed the plush toy, first confused at its presence before clenching his teeth and shoving it away, not bothering to watch as it fell off the edge of the bed.

He knew what the stuffed penguin was for. It was meant to be some kind of stand-in, a substitute, a device to be used to cope with the absence of what he had habitually begun to reach for whenever he happened to fall asleep.

But the stuffed penguin only served to occupy space in his arms. He couldn't listen to it breathe or feel its wrist for a pulse and take solace in the fact that it was alive. It gave off no body heat. It didn't whine softly in protest whenever the alarm went off in the morning.

Teeth still clenched, Jack rolled so that he was face-down on the bed, pulling a pillow over his head in the hopes of pretending that he wasn't actually here in one of North's guest rooms throwing a stuffed animal aside as though it had just offended him on a deep, personal level.

He let out a frustrated groan, muffled by the mattress.

This had to be some kind of new low point, Jack supposed. Here he was, lying in bed, being angry that a stuffed penguin was not Rowan Sawyer.

Here he was, being forced to go to sleep because he was hallucinating Rowan Sawyer after avoiding sleep because he kept dreaming about Rowan Sawyer.

Here he was, being given dreams that had nothing at all to do with Rowan Sawyer but still reminded him of Rowan Sawyer.

Stories in general would never be the same because he couldn't think of stories without thinking of the way her eyes would light up when she would tell one, the way she'd make wild gestures with her hands, the way she would get so excited she'd have to stop suddenly to breathe because she'd forgotten to in her haste to tell the next part.

He couldn't think of grand adventures without thinking of the ones she made up for those fictional characters she loved so much and the ones that they had gone on and hoped to go on. Inching out from beneath the pillow, Jack glanced back to where the penguin had previously been, remembering that he had promised to take her Antarctica to see real ones.

He couldn't think of happy endings without thinking of the fact that they hadn't gotten one.

They were doomed from the start. Star-crossed. Courting a mortal is a terrible idea! There was never a happy ending lined up for them.

She was always going to die first, way too soon.

It just wasn't supposed to be this soon, this way.

Dreaming dreams without Rowan still managed to leave him ready to break down over her when he woke up.

This was supposed to get easier at some point, wasn't it?

When the hell was that point?

He sat upright, forcing deep breaths as he closed his eyes tight to hold back tears. He was determined to be through crying over this. It was clear he wasn't through missing her or being upset that she wasn't around, but hell if he was going to cry any more about it.

He had gone centuries without crying and some mortal girl with an overactive imagination had ruined everything.

Jack wondered if she knew how much he missed her, how much her family missed her, how often strangers still left things at her grave. The Muses insisted there was, in fact, an afterlife, but none of them could remember it.

So was there one? Was she there? Did she still think about her stories, did she still daydream about what would happen next?

It just didn't seem fair that all her work would just end with her.

But then again, nothing about any of this was the least bit fair.

He lived in a world where he knew with complete certainty that Santa Claus, the Sandman, and the Greek Muses existed, and yet no one could tell him with certainty what happened when the life left someone's body.

He remembered Rowan asking, the disappointment in her eyes when he had told her that he could not remember.

All Jack had wanted at the time was for her to focus on anything besides death. Why worry yourself with such things?

But now he wanted to know, too.

She had wanted to know in an attempt to be prepared for what her anxious mind was certain was her quickly approaching death. He wanted to know because he wanted to know how she was.

People always said that those that died were no longer in pain; that they were at rest with all their days of suffering left behind.

It was a nice sentiment.

Jack could easily tell himself that, try to believe it because it was nice to think. But in the back of his mind he would just end up wondering if it was, in fact, true at all.

No one here was going to give him an answer, and as Jack forced himself out of bed, kicking off the covers, he cringed at the thought of talking to the Guardians or the Muses about this anyway.

Jack wasn't going to get closure by staying here, by watching his friends give him those sympathetic looks and forcing him to sleep for his "own good."

He wasn't going to get closure by hiding out in his cabin and refusing to sleep until he started seeing things, either.

Grabbing his staff, Jack thought he knew what he had to do, starting with getting the hell out of here.

With a slight grunt, he opened the heavy window and climbed through.