A/N: First chapter of 2022! I realized that I could feasibly name this chapter, and the next couple ones, all after lyrics from The Chain by Fleetwood Mac. So that's what I'm doing, because I have a hell of a time naming chapters.

The last one was almost "Misery Loves Company" but I already used that in Something Quite Peculiar, so Paramore really came through for me there.

In case you missed it, I've shown up on my RotG tumblr again posting some sketches, including a little illustration for the last chapter.

More angst incoming!

A kiss goodnight was simple but could do so much.

Chapter Eighteen: Running In The Shadows

Jamie was not allowed to have sweets after eight o'clock in the evening.

This was completely reasonable, really. No adult, much less any child, truly needed to indulge in sugar at such an hour. Especially not when they'd already had dessert after their dinner.

That was what his mother always said, anyway.

But there was still a precious week left of summer vacation. Did rules like bedtimes and restrictions on sugar really apply now?

Lorelei had fallen asleep on the recliner. She had made it about ten minutes into the show she had been meaning to catch up on before nodding off.

It was much too easy for Jamie to sneak past her slumbering form and to the pantry, where a bag of marshmallows laid in wait.

He carefully took the bag and tiptoed past his mother again, pausing and feeling his heart sink as she suddenly shifted in her sleep. When she did not wake up, he sighed slightly and headed for the staircase that would lead to his room.

He would just have a few marshmallows and return the bag to the pantry before morning. Lorelei would never know.

Careful to keep the hinges on his door from squeaking, Jaime opened it very, very slowly.

He had barely closed the door behind him, barely had a chance to feel triumphant in his mission's success, before the floor of his bedroom suddenly opened up. Startled, he instinctively jumped back against the door.

E. Aster Bunnymund bounded out of the hole that had appeared, dressed far more formally than Jamie had ever seen him. The hole vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Jamie blinked, taking a few seconds to process what exactly had just occurred.

"… Bunny?" he finally said.

"Hey Kid," the pooka said, taking a seat on Jamie's bed. He sighed slightly, seeming relieved not to be on his feet anymore.

For a fleeting instant, Jamie wanted to be excited to see Bunny there, to have one of the Guardians standing in his room again.

But then he remembered what all had occurred, eyes flitting to the box near his bed that held Rowan's notebooks. It was hard to forget.

"What are you doing here?" Jamie asked, frown fixed. "It's not Easter."

"I do leave the Warren outside of Easter," Bunny said. "Sometimes."

Jamie set the bag of marshmallows down on his desk, his appetite for sweets having vanished for now.

"I wanted to talk to you about Jack," Bunny continued. "And your cousin."

"I don't want to talk about Rowan," Jamie said immediately, feeling his heart already sinking. He knew he would cry if they discussed this and he didn't want to. All he had wanted was to eat some marshmallows, maybe read a comic book.

He was not supposed to be faced with his cousin's death right now.

"I understand," Bunny said after a beat. "But—"

"No, you don't," Jamie said, unable to help himself. "You're a Guardian, you're supposed to protect everything good in the world. You were supposed to protect Rowan, and none of you did."

Silence.

Bunny's eyes were fixed on Jamie, but Jamie would not return the favor, staring at his window instead, arms crossed before him.

"I'm sorry, Jamie," Bunny said finally. "I'm sorry you lost her. And I'm sorry for the role we played in that."

Jamie wasn't sure what he was expecting. Getting an apology somehow felt off.

But shouldn't Bunny be apologizing? Shouldn't they all be? Hadn't they failed?

Jamie's eyes were welling with tears already.

"But," Bunny added. "I won't have you saying that none of us protected her. Jack did everything he possibly could."

"Then why—" Jamie started. Bunny put a paw up to stop him.

"Listen," Bunny said. "Jack did things I didn't agree with. He didn't play it safe. He didn't listen to reason. He put his neck on the line, all for the sake of keeping Rowan safe. As it turned out, just a few too many things went wrong. No one did more for Rowan than Jack did. He hasn't been the same since that night."

Jamie wiped his eyes. He didn't know what to say.

He was afraid that if he tried to talk, sobs would erupt from his throat, drowning out any attempts at coherent speech.

"Hold Rowan's death against me. Against any of the Guardians, all of the rest of us," Bunny said. "But don't hold it against Jack."

"I-I thought—I trusted—" Jamie started to say, his voice cracking as he went.

"I know," Bunny said, standing up so that he could approach Jamie and gently place a paw on his shoulder. Jamie felt that Bunny did, in fact, somehow know what the boy was too upset to articulate. "But you can still see me. And I can still touch you. Which tells me that maybe, just maybe, you haven't lost complete faith in us just yet."

"I don't want to," Jamie said, his voice small.

Believing in the Guardians, in the supernatural, in legends, it used to be so exciting. It used to bring him so much joy, learning about the legends and discussing proof with his friends. It used to be—

Jamie frowned, thinking of Jack again.

It used to be fun.

"Then don't," Bunny said. "Hang on to that belief."

Was it that easy?

The Guardians meant the world to him. Finding out they truly existed had been one of the most exciting moments in his short life.

He loved the magic, the wonder, the absolute joy that came with believing in them, believing that fairy tales and legends were more than just stories.

But then, well.

Then the stories died.

And it felt like their fault. Because they hadn't protected Rowan.

Because Jack hadn't protected Rowan.

But if what Bunny said was true, if Jack really had done everything he could, then that meant that Jamie had no one to blame for Rowan's death. It meant that Rowan's death was, truly, an unfortunate accident.

And that felt strange. It felt unsettling.

If there was someone to blame then it could have been avoided. If there was someone to blame then it made sense. If there was someone to blame then death wasn't such an ominous, random, ruthless thing that would come for everyone without mercy.

It meant that even the Guardians weren't perfect and wouldn't always win.

It meant that sometimes, truly, there weren't happily ever afters.

Jamie wasn't even in middle school yet. That was all a hard pill to swallow.

When his father died, he could blame the other driver for drinking so much alcohol. He could blame the surgeons that couldn't save him.

With Rowan, perhaps there was no one to blame.

"I think you should talk to Jack, Kid," Bunny said.

"I don't want t-to talk about it," Jamie said, shaking his head as he wiped at his eyes again.

"I know you don't. And he doesn't either. But no one is going to get it like you two," Bunny said. "And you can't keep that sort of thing bottled up, you got it?"

Everyone kept saying that. His mother, his school counselor, his teacher, even Cupcake had pulled him aside and said he was moping around a lot and to stop bottling things up. What did they know? He would mope even more if he let it out, he was sure of that. Every time he talked about it, he just got sad all over again.

But he supposed Bunny was right about one thing: Jack would get it.

Jack knew everything that had happened. Jamie didn't need to pretend that magic had nothing to do with it, because Jack knew.

Jack spent time with Rowan. He knew her. He loved her stories.

He loved her.

"I-it just makes—it makes—it makes me sad," Jamie said between sobs.

"And that's okay," Bunny said. "Jack is sad, too. And I think you two could help each other."

"But w-what if he d-doesn't want to-want to talk to me?" Jamie said.

He had been awful to Jack the last time they spoke. Jamie stared hard at the floor as he remembered the things he said to Jack before the boy disappeared from his sight.

"He'll talk to you," Bunny said. "I know he will."

Bunny's words shouldn't have hit Jamie the way they did. Jack being willing to forgive him when Jamie had said so many hurtful things felt uncomfortable, undeserved. He wasn't sure what to do with this.

Jamie was embracing the large rabbit before he knew it, taking Bunny slightly by surprise before he gently pat the boy on the back.

"There, there," Bunny said as the boy shook slightly with silent sobs. "Talk to Jack. It'll be okay."

The pole was quiet, as the yetis and elves had been given the day off to attend the wedding and work wouldn't be resuming until the following afternoon. The elves had been given a curfew and were already snoozing in elaborate, multi-level bunkbeds on one of the lower levels. Many of the yetis had already returned to their sleeping quarters as well, but some were still dancing when North and Erato left in the sleigh.

North had let Erato steer, taking them low over the ocean where the dream sand, still twirling through the air, reflected in abstract shapes in the waves. Mermaids and dolphins emerged, greeting the pair as they passed.

After flying through a portal, North took the reins again to land the sleigh. He and Erato both got to work pulling harnesses off of the reindeer to put them back in their stables for the night. This was usually taken care of by the yetis, and North had said that he could handle the reindeer himself. But Erato had thrown blankets over the grateful reindeer anyway, cooing at the creatures and wishing them sweet dreams.

They re-entered the pole, the globe spinning silently in the bright sun that was still out despite the hour.

"Thank you for the ride back, Nicky," Erato said.

"Everyone loves the sleigh," North said with a smile, his face tinged pink. They walked toward the hallway that led to the guest room she was staying in.

Erato was surprised that he was still walking with her. His bedroom was through a door in his workshop, off in the opposite direction.

But she wasn't about to point this out, pleased to still be in his company.

"And thank you for the dances," she added.

"Thank you," North said. "Was great fun."

"It was," Erato agreed.

They stopped at her door and she set a gloved hand to the knob before glancing back his way. If it had been anyone else, she wouldn't hesitate. A kiss goodnight was simple but could do so much.

She had already kissed him at the new year.

"Goodnight," he said, still smiling. His blue eyes had such a wondrous quality. "Rest well."

Erato set her free hand to his cheek, gently, her face softening with regret. "You too."

He touched her hand lightly before she took it back, opening the door and passing the threshold. She closed the door behind her, her room dark due to her thick curtains. Glancing down at the strip of light beneath the door, she watched his shadow pass with a small frown.

Jamie couldn't sleep.

Bunny had bid him farewell after he was sure that the boy had adequately calmed down. This was a few hours ago.

Jamie rolled over for perhaps the fifth time in the past two minutes. He could not get comfortable. His mind would not slow.

He tried to close his eyes and picture imaginary sheep to count but immediately found himself thinking about that late night over a year ago when so much had proved itself not to be imaginary. The way the ice and frost rabbit had hopped around his room and burst into gently falling snow.

Jamie wondered if Jack ever conjured up sheep made out of ice to help him sleep.

The boy actually managed to smile at the idea, if briefly.

Rowan had once remarked that she never had luck counting sheep and would make up stories in her head when she couldn't sleep.

Jamie felt Rowan's absence. It was like a hollowed-out part of his gut when he remembered she was gone.

And then there was Jack's absence.

It would be a lie to say Jamie hadn't felt that, too.

But he had filled the empty space with anger and resentment.

As much as he wanted to do that again now, as much as it had just been a reflex lately, it didn't feel quite right. Not after all of what Bunny had said.

It wasn't as if Bunny had told him anything new or groundbreaking.

It all felt obvious, now that Jamie sat with it.

Why was it that something like this could be so obvious, but so hard to see?

Jamie rolled over again, glancing at the alarm clock next to his toy robot that doubled as a nightlight. It was past midnight now.

He remembered another night, past midnight, when he awoke to Rowan sitting on his bed and whispering that everything was going to be okay soon, but that he had to stay in his room, stay in bed, until the sun came up.

"No matter what you hear, Jamie, you have to stay in bed and not say a word until the sun comes up, okay? I need you to trust me, and to promise me that."

And then she left, closing his bedroom door softly behind her.

Jamie stared at his bedroom door now, the last place he had seen Rowan. Some mornings, he swore he would wake up and see her standing there again, or sitting on the foot of his bed as she did when she told him a story… but then he would woke up yet again and she was gone. Just a fleeting, taunting dream.

The boy sat upright, unwilling to keep waiting for sleep to spontaneously consume him. Abbey, who had been sleeping soundly at the foot of his bed, lifted her head slightly at the sudden movement.

"Go back to sleep, Girl," Jamie said, patting her head after he climbed out of his bed. The greyhound stretched her legs with a yawn, watching Jamie approach his desk before putting her head back down.

Jamie flipped the switch of his lamp, wincing slightly as his eyes adjusted to the light. Pulling open a drawer, he pulled out some blank sheets of paper. He snatched a pen from a cup on the desk's surface and sat down.

Writing a letter to Jack had worked once before.

Dear Jack, Jamie wrote. He hesitated, glancing out his window as though looking for a clue about what he should write next.

Dear Jack,

I know it's been a long time since we last talked but I thought that maybe

Jamie sighed. That didn't feel right. He crumpled the page in his hands before tossing it in the trash and starting again.

Dear Jack,

I wanted to talk to you, and I just saw Bunny, so I figured I should try

Another crumpled page. That didn't feel right either.

As he thought back to the last time he saw Jack, he frowned. Would Jack even want to talk to him?

Rowan was so good at writing. What would she say?

Probably that they were both being stupid.

He set his pen to a new page.

Dear Jack,

I'm sorry about what I said to you after Rowan died. I was really upset, and I still am.

Another crumpled page in the trash. That didn't seem right either. Was he supposed to put everything in the letter? How did he even put what he felt into words beyond "I'm really upset?"

The whole point of the letter was to clear the air and get Jack to meet up with him in person, wasn't it?

Jamie figured that's what Bunny had in mind when he said to talk to Jack, at least.

Dear Jack,

I'm sorry about what I said to you after Rowan died.

I miss both of you. Bunny thinks we should talk. Can we do that?

Sincerely,

Jamie Bennett

This was the most successful version of the letter thus far, and the simplest. Was it enough?

He would look at it again in the morning, he supposed. If he couldn't think of anything better, he would ask the wind to deliver a message on his behalf one more time.

As Jamie turned off his desk lamp, he wondered if the wind would bother with him after everything.

Jack hadn't gone straight home, instead flying over the arctic for a time in the hope of clearing his head. It hadn't exactly worked, and eventually he started in the direction of Burgess. It was the early morning hours by the time his cabin came into view.

Unfortunately, that was not all that came into view.

Apollo's chariot and horses weren't far off, drawing the eye immediately with their brilliant light that was painful to look at.

Jack swore to himself, putting up a hand to shield his gaze from the horses. What did Apollo want now?

The winter spirit was emotionally spent after the wedding. The last thing he wanted was to pile on whatever it was Apollo wanted on top of everything else.

Maybe he could turn around and just leave, pretend he had never seen the chariot. Put whatever this was off until he had recovered a little more from, well, everything.

But the idea of Apollo shuffling through his things while he was gone wasn't exactly ideal either.

Damn it.

Bracing himself, Jack landed soundlessly at his front door and pushed it open. As expected, Apollo was there. His back was to the door, his gaze fixed on the dimly lit magical fireplace that Jack mostly kept for light rather than warmth.

Jack barely had a chance to step inside before Apollo said, "Have a good time at the wedding?"

Apollo turned to face him, his gaze cold in contrast with the warm golden color of his eyes.

Jack said nothing, not that Apollo was truly expecting an answer.

"Have you forgotten our deal? The Muses need to be allying themselves with me, not making grand gestures of loyalty to the Guardians," Apollo practically growled.

"I never agreed to your deal," Jack said. He adjusted his grip on his staff, not to threaten Apollo but to remind both of them that his weapon was present. "Just leave me out of—"

"Leave you out of it?"

The older man, not the least bit intimidated, stepped purposefully forward. Jack couldn't help but step back. Soon, Apollo was looming over him, adjusting one of his ornate rings on his right hand. Cupid's badly beaten face flashed in Jack's mind.

"You're in too deep to be left out of this, Frost. But if you won't respond to a bribe, fine. Perhaps a threat will work out better for you," Apollo said.

Jack dared not let eye contact with Apollo falter. After the wedding, honestly, a physical altercation didn't sound that bad. He would much rather focus on a fight than wallow in his shame.

"If you want a fight—" Jack started.

"Oh, no. No, I'm not going to hit you," Apollo said, a smirk pulling at his lips. "You did have a good time at the wedding, didn't you? With Melpomene?"

Jack's face fell at once, involuntarily, eyes wide.

"That's what I thought," Apollo said. "Now, some of the Guardians know you and Melpomene were lovers, the Muses have gossiped enough about that. But none of them know the grim details, do they?"

No, no, no, this couldn't be happening. Jack said nothing, his lips tightening into a thin line.

"All the deaths you caused, all the deaths you watched for entertainment. All the tragedy you contributed to, knowingly, willingly," Apollo said. "Not the behavior of a Guardian, is it? Think of how disappointed they were when you lost your way and simply spoke to Pitch Black. How will they feel about this?"

"It was—I—I'm not—it's not like—" Jack was struggling to be coherent, his heart racing.

"And then Pitch Black, well, he invited you to join him, didn't he? He recognized your similarities. And you never told the Guardians about that either, did you?" Apollo said.

"I didn't—"

"It's no surprise you were willing to work with him when it meant getting what you wanted: information to protect Rowan, to protect your own personal interests. Because the two of you, well, you're birds of a feather."

"That's not—"

"And mere hours ago you fell right back into Melpomene's arms. You walk the line between light and dark more than any of the other Guardians ever have. How could they ever trust you, much less associate with you, knowing what you're capable of? Knowing how easily you could switch sides?"

"I'm not switching sides," Jack said, his teeth clenched.

"Do you really believe that?" Apollo said.

Jack's heart sank.

He had been so sure that he was never going to let what happened with Melpomene ever happen again.

And then there was a piano ballad and a desperate longing to be understood.

"That's what I thought. And if you don't believe it, do you think that they'll believe it?" Apollo said.

There was a reason that Rowan was the only one he had discussed this with. He was terrified, completely terrified, about what the Guardians would think of his past with Melpomene.

"If the Muses choose to stay loyal to me, this stays between us," Apollo said, his tone even, calm. "And if you do nothing, all will know that Jack Frost is a malevolent spirit seeking to spread misfortune and death. Not to mention, Rowan Sawyer will be gone for good. Understood?"

Jack's jaw throbbed, unable to do much but continue clenching his teeth and nodding only slightly.

"Good. I'll be checking in again," Apollo said, exiting the cabin through the door that Jack had left open. Jack quickly shut it behind him, freely trembling and gasping for air now that he was out of sight.

Jack ran his fingers through his hair, cursing as he walked over to his bed. He sat on the blankets and stared at the wall across from him, at all his knickknacks, the drawings, the photographs.

It had been here that he had sat with Rowan, finally confessing to his past with Melpomene. At the time, it felt like he had learned from the whole ordeal, that he had come out of it knowing better, that it would never happen again.

He knew the signs. He knew Melpomene's games.

He knew it wasn't worth it.

Melpomene's kisses always felt like passionate farewells. But she was never saying goodbye, not for long.

But he thought he would be the exception, that he would manage to keep her at bay.

His shoulders shook and he couldn't bring himself to even bother trying to hold back the tears that silently welled up as soon as he was alone with his thoughts again. Apollo had thrown every insecurity Jack had about Melpomene right back at him.

This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to be better than this.

Maybe he was still just the same as he had been so long ago. Just as sad, just as bitter, just as lonely and willing indulge in the misery rather than better himself.

He was supposed to be better than this.

He thought he was better than this.

The Guardians saw more than misery in him, and that was outside confirmation that he was better than what he had been with Melpomene. The children that saw him, that believed in him, that he was able to bring fun to, they were all confirmation that he could bring something good into the world.

Rowan had been confirmation that he could love, and be loved, without indulging in the worst parts of himself, without becoming someone he hated.

And in one evening, he had danced with tragedy all over again.

He remembered telling Rowan so confidently that what he and Melpomene had was done, that he had no interest in revisiting it.

Maybe he was a fool.

Maybe he wasn't better than this.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, unsure who he was speaking to. Himself? Rowan? The Man in the Moon? The Guardians? No one at all? Everyone?

He didn't know who he was anymore. Maybe there had been a mistake. Maybe he wasn't supposed to be the Guardian of Fun, maybe he was supposed to spread sorrow and the joy he had managed to prompt from children had been a fluke. Maybe this was his true nature.

He carefully set himself to his side, setting his head to his pillow, the fire dying down with each passing moment.

He wasn't supposed to get involved with the ordeal with Apollo and the Muses. The alternative was letting the Guardians know who he truly, truly was, and that was absolutely terrifying.

But maybe it was only a matter of time either way.