A/N: It's been about thirty chapters of consistent updates since I came back! How about that?
This chapter is a little all-over-the-place, but that is because we're getting stuff out of the way so that we can dive right into the New Year's Eve ball next chapter. Hope you guys like it, let me know. The last scene makes a passing reference to the one-shot I posted over on my tumblr for Pride, which I was glad to be able to fit in.
"Or, I mean, you could try behaving on purpose, just throwing that out there."
Chapter Forty-Six: System Updates
The Guardians' annual gift exchange was proceeding well.
Bunny had gotten everyone a package of chocolate eggs, as he did every year.
Sandy had gotten everyone a small bag of sand that would ensure a dreamless sleep, as he did every year.
Tooth gave everyone a memento of the past year, as she did every year. Jack had been apprehensive opening the small gift box from her, sure that there was nothing that he would want to remember of this long and stressful year.
But Tooth apparently prided herself in always finding something worth remembering. She had given Jack a small replica of North's sleigh, a reminder of his first Christmas Eve helping with the deliveries.
Jack had fallen back to homemade coupon books, and this year each of the other Guardians got one. Bunny's book was largely the same as the previous year. He had repeated a few of the coupons for the others, namely "Present this coupon to prevent Jack Frost from making an obvious joke," and North also getting one promising "Jack Frost's vote in an Easter vs Christmas debate. *Not valid if the opposition has already cashed in their coupon for the debate in question."
North was the last to give the others gifts, handing each of the other Guardians boxes of equal size.
"Again, if this is a very large lump of coal—" Jack said as they each began unwrapping their respective boxes.
"You made the nice list this year, did I not say that?" North said with furrowed brow.
"Wait, what?" Jack said, eyes wide, praying it was a joke, but there was no jest present in North's face.
There was only so much one person could question their own identity and Jack was sure he had already hit his limit.
"Great work, Jack," Tooth said cheerfully. Sandy nodded in agreement.
"I broke into Stonehenge!" Jack protested immediately. "On the first! I—I trespassed!"
"The decision was made to let that one slide," North said. "Due to how well-behaved you were the rest of the time."
Jack was scrambling now. "Euterpe and Terpsichore and I went to a concert without paying for tickets."
"And Euterpe and Terpsichore left a generous tip for the musicians themselves," North shrugged. "More than they would have made on three ticket sales."
"This can't be right," Jack said, shaking his head.
"Is right, we checked twice! No breaking and entering, no excessive pranks, no making anxious students slip on ice while holding projects," North said, ticking these things off his fingers.
"Wow, I really have been depressed this year," Jack winced.
North pat Jack on the shoulder. "Look forward to seeing you on naughty list again next year."
"Or, I mean, you could try behaving on purpose, just throwing that out there," Bunny said, opening his gift box.
"Nah," said Jack, pulling a globe from the box now. Each of the others had received one as well. They were roughly basketball-sized.
Jack's globe was partially transparent, with shades of white and blue to mimic ice and frost.
Tooth's globe was lavish, pink and gold with jeweled accents.
Sandy's globe was gold, with soft, twirling designs that mimicked his dream sand's movements.
Bunny's globe was green and seemed to be covered in moss, twisting vines, and flowers.
They each glowed with lights of believers.
"I figured it was time you all had your own," North said. "These are scale models. Yetis will come by to install the full-sized ones in the new year."
"These are so beautiful, North!" Tooth said. "Oh, the fairies and the mice are going to love it, maybe we can suspend the full-sized one like the towers?"
"Yes, that is the plan for yours," North nodded.
"Thanks, Mate, this is really nice. I'll have an area cleared and ready," Bunny said, eying his scale model thoughtfully.
Sandy's dream sand above his head implied that he had a few ideas as far as where to put a full-sized model went, and that he looked forward to meeting with the yetis about it.
"How much bigger is this supposed to get?" Jack asked, flicking his wrist and sending his globe on a spin, the lights blurring as they went. His home base was the smallest of everyone's, and he very much preferred that. "Is this another attempt to get me to expand the cabin?"
"Ah, theirs are scale models," North clarified, gesturing to Tooth, Bunny, and Sandy. "Thought you would just want the small one."
"Thank you, this one is great," Jack said, relieved.
"Although," North said, and Jack braced himself. "Ed gave me some blueprints for the cabin—"
"North," Jack sighed. Sandy smiled, amused, Bunny rolled his eyes, and Tooth giggled, for this what if your cabin looked less abandoned? conversation happened somewhat frequently.
"Is not big! Is adding small kitchen and loft… and a few other things," North said. "I think you will like it!"
Jack was beginning to get the impression that North was going to keep gently suggesting more and more additions to the cabin until Jack's home base rivaled the others. He was still unwilling to expand that much, still not seeing the point, but he was spending more time at the cabin lately. Having a designated space for his coffee might not be a terrible idea.
"I will look at the blueprints," Jack said.
"Is all I ask!" said North. "But now, we have coffee and cookies!"
The others followed the man, already heading off to his dining area where they would partake in the caffeine and sugar as per tradition.
Christmas at Tom and Mark's condo was proceeding quietly.
The couple were early risers on most days due to their respective lines of work, and found themselves in the kitchen early on this morning as well. It was not the same as having a child wake everyone early in giddy impatience, but a day off was a day off, wasn't it?
Mark had grand plans of apparently not taking a day off from baking, already setting up his stand mixer and humming something that Tom thought was supposed to be jingle bells.
Sure enough, Mark sang softly as he cracked a few eggs into the bowl to the tune of jingle bells, "Cinnamon, cinnamon, big cinnamon rolls."
"I told you, you don't have to make breakfast," Tom said, mid-yawn as he fiddled with the coffee maker. "Or dessert, or whatever this counts as."
"We have guests!" Mark said, waving Tom's comment away as the stand mixer ran. Bill and Dot were in the guestroom-slash-sometimes-office, still sleeping. It was still dark out, and even if it wasn't, the plan was to let them sleep in as long as possible.
It was the first Christmas without Rowan. Like Thanksgiving, her absence was sure to be loud. The longer they slept, the less of Christmas they would have to actually deal with.
The whole reason they had invited Bill and Dot to stay with them was to hopefully soften the blow. Perhaps it would be easier to get through Christmas without Rowan if they were not in the house that she had spent most of her Christmases in.
Bill and Dot had each remarked that the Christmas season hadn't felt quite right that year, that they had barely decorated, hadn't bothered to put up the tree, unwilling to unpack the ornaments that Rowan had made or cherished.
Tom and Mark never went as outlandish as Bill and Dot tended to with Christmas. Their living room did not lend itself to a large tree, so they had a small one in the corner. Some lights and garlands were present around the room but nothing excessive.
The most extravagant item was an elaborate gingerbread house settled in the center of the dining room table, a project that Mark and Tom built each year and then gradually ate piece-by-piece once Christmas was through.
No gifts were under the tree at the moment. Bill and Dot had brought along Linda, whose favorite activity lately seemed to be shredding any paper she could get her paws on. The gifts were hidden away and would be retrieved later for a quiet gift exchange once everyone was awake and properly caffeinated.
Hopefully it would still be a nice, if different, Christmas.
Mark was attaching the dough hook to his mixer when the sound of nails clicking on hardwood drew both his and Tom's eye to Linda, wagging her tail and trotting a few paces ahead of Bill, who was yawning.
"Merry Christmas," Mark said. "Didn't wake you with the mixer, did I?"
"No, no, you're fine. Linda is on a schedule," Bill said, approaching the back door that would lead him and the dog to the small outdoor area. "Merry Christmas."
It wasn't long before a shivering Bill was stepping back inside, Linda zooming ahead of him to do a few quick laps around the living room.
"Got a lot of snow last night," Bill said, helping himself to a mug and the coffee pot. Tom was already halfway done with his first cup and was leaning against the counter to watch as Mark eyed the dough in the mixer critically. Tom glanced away only to take a proper look out the still mostly dark window over the sink, the snow catching the light from inside the condo.
"I guess our Christmas gift is the fact that we don't have to drive anywhere in it today," Tom shrugged.
"Remember when we were kids and we thought we could ask Santa for snow on Christmas?" said Bill.
"Ah, yeah," Tom nodded. Linda came zooming into the kitchen, and Tom set his mug down to scoop the wiggling puppy into his arms. "And any time it did snow on Christmas, we were sure it was him."
"I'm sure Santa's got some weather connections," said Mark, finally stepping away from his mixer to get some coffee as well. "He's Santa."
"Hm," Bill said, sporting that sad smile that was becoming commonplace when he was reminded of his daughter. "Rowan was working on some story last year, was talking about all these mythical beings that Santa Claus would know, like Apollo and Cupid and the Headless Horseman and all kinds of other ones."
"So he definitely knows Mother Nature, there you go," Tom said, scratching Linda's back as she gnawed at his other sleeve.
"I don't think Rowan mentioned Mother Nature, I know I told her that she should add the Boogie Man," Bill said thoughtfully. "She did mention Jack Frost, and she had that drawing of him."
"That's a fun idea, Santa Claus knowing Jack Frost and calling in favors for Christmas," Mark said. "Did she ever write that one down?"
"If she did, it would be in the notebooks we gave Jamie, I imagine," said Bill. "Maybe there's something on her computer, but I haven't really gone through it. We haven't gone through really any of her things except the car."
"Well, no rush," Tom said. "It'll all still be there."
Bill nodded before taking a drink of his coffee. The room grew quiet, the only sounds being the stand mixer and Linda's soft growling, an attempt to intimidate Tom's sleeve that she was still chewing on.
It didn't take long for most conversations to end up coming back to Rowan, and to trail off into silence from there.
It was sure to be a quiet Christmas.
Erato was not trying to intrude. She knew that North cherished his Christmas mornings with the Guardians, particularly since it was rare for all of them to gather without a dire reason. She was lurking near the entrance of the informal dining room, having intended to get herself some coffee but for now just watching the group converse.
Jack was listing something off to Bunny, Tooth grinning the whole way. "—Peter Cottontail, Carrot Breath, Crocodile Dundee, Cadbury, Tasmanian Devil—"
"I told you I didn't want your code name suggestions," Bunny sighed, beginning to file through some cards in his paws.
"—Hopper, Bugs, Greyhound Bait, Dunkaroo, Trix, Watership Down—"
"Shut it," Bunny said, sliding one of the cards over to Jack.
"Wow, you're gonna use this every Christmas, aren't you?" Jack said, eying the card.
"Guess we're starting a new tradition. Now, five minutes of silence, Show Pony," Bunny said, tapping the card.
North, chuckling at the display, was the first to notice Erato lurking, and rose from his seat to approach her, smiling warmly.
"Merry Christmas," he said.
"Merry Christmas," she replied, pleased when he leaned down to kiss her. These sweet kisses in greeting and as farewells had become common for them now, a comforting gesture that she hoped would never lose the effect of immediately making her happier than she had been seconds before.
They broke apart and he set a hand in his pocket, pulling out a small wrapped box and handing it to her.
"Oh, my lumps of coal?" she teased.
"Sort of," he said.
She unwrapped the small velvet box, the kind that usually contained jewelry, and opened the lid. There were a pair of heart-cut diamond earrings, accented in gold.
"Oh, how pretty," she said. She smiled, glancing up at him through her lashes. "Getting me jewelry, do you have a crush on me, Nicky?"
"Perhaps," he said with a smile, still burning red at the nickname. He gestured to the gold earrings she was currently wearing, adorned with the astrological symbol for the sun and added softly, "I figured you would be getting rid of these ones."
"Ah, yes," she said. The clock was ticking on their time with Apollo. "These will do nicely as replacements, thank you. You found my gift?"
"Ah, the chocolate croissants! Yes, Sandy has eaten three of them," North chuckled. "You did not have to do that."
"What and let Calliope's baklava upstage me?" Erato scoffed.
"In that case, I encourage all of you to continue trying to one-up each other through baking," North nodded. "Has worked out quite well for the rest of us."
"Cupid was certainly enjoying it until Euterpe put him to work," Erato smiled. "I think he's still passed out from being part of the tamale assembly line."
"Well, I hope he will wake up in time to visit us with the others for dinner," North said.
"He will."
"Good. Come sit with us," North said, gesturing to the table.
"You're sure?" Erato asked, still unwilling to intrude, but quickly finding that she didn't care to argue when North made it clear he wanted her around. She wanted to be around him, after all. North nodded. "All right."
She walked with North and took the vacant seat beside him, immediately reaching for coffee.
"Hello, Erato, Merry Christmas," Tooth said. Sand images flashed above Sandy's head to repeat the greeting, alongside a compliment on the croissants.
"Thank you, Merry Christmas," Erato smiled.
"You're just in time for Jack to shut up for another… Two minutes and fifteen seconds," Bunny said, glancing over North's head to the clock. Jack rolled his eyes, offering Erato a wave.
Sitting here with the group was nice. It was quiet, with all the yetis and elves having the day off, save for the few yetis that were taking short shifts guarding the exterior. A stray elf would enter on occasion and retrieve a baked good before scurrying off again.
The conversation was lighthearted, the food delicious. Erato set her hand on North's, which was resting on the table and smiled.
It was a lovely thing, when holidays managed to bring the cheer they promised.
Urania watched as Clio fiddled with a wifi router, lights flashing on the device as she went. The day thus far had been quiet, with some of the Muses out and about spreading inspiration as though it was any other day.
As Clio was the only one who had sent a letter, the others had not expected gifts, surprised to find that there were treats in all of the stockings and a few extra boxes around the tree.
Clio had asked, if it was not too much trouble, for an additional computer for Terpsichore and Euterpe to share, as they would frequently go to libraries to make use of the computers there. The pair were still attempting to set up the laptop, stopping to ask Clio questions every few moments as they went. Clio had set up the laptop that North had brought for her quite quickly.
"How are you going to get any signal in the mountain?" Urania asked.
"North increased the range somehow with magic," Clio said, handing the router to Urania. "Can you please set this on the top of the bookshelf?"
This happened frequently with Urania and Polyhymnia specifically, as they could fly without transforming into something else as Calliope had to. The other Muses would ask either Urania or Polyhymnia to retrieve something from or place something on a high shelf.
With Cupid having finally had his growth spurt, sometimes he would be tasked with reaching things the others could not, but still it was mostly Urania and Polyhymnia.
It was not difficult, at least. Urania took the router and pressed off the ground with her toes, floating up a few feet to the top of the bookshelf.
"Thank you," Clio said, returning her attention to the laptop that North had brought for her. "Okay, so our network is called 'MtParnassus' and the password—"
"We're not ready for the password yet, we're still reading the terms and conditions," Euterpe said, she and Terpsichore having moved their chairs close together to properly take a look at the screen of their laptop.
"No one reads those," Clio said. "Just say you agree, it's fine."
"But what if we don't agree?" Terpsichore said.
"No one does, but you can't use the computer unless you say you agree," said Clio.
"That seems like a bad system," Euterpe said.
"You're not making a deal with a trickster spirit, it's fine," said Clio.
"But how do you know that if no one ever reads them?" Terpsichore said.
"It's fine," Clio said again.
Euterpe and Terpsichore exchanged glances, thoughtful, as though unsure if they should take Clio's word for it.
"I promise, it's fine," said Clio. Terpsichore sighed and clicked, the screen presumably proceeding to the next part of the laptop set-up.
"So, are you finally going to get rid of the old computer you've got held together with duct tape?" Urania said.
"You already know the answer to that," Euterpe said softly.
"I figured I'd keep it for parts," Clio shrugged.
"What parts could you possibly still use?" Urania said, brow furrowed. "It's so out of date!"
"You never know!" Clio said. "Besides, I mean, it still works, why would I get rid of it?"
"Okay then," Urania said, shaking her head a bit.
If anything was a constant, it was that Clio would never get rid of anything, even if it was broken. It was likely a good thing that they did not celebrate holidays or exchange gifts very often as a group, for Clio was particularly attached to items that had been gifted to her.
The others were already positive that within a century's time, this new laptop would still be somewhere in Clio's workshop.
And honestly, there was something comforting about being able to rely on some things always being the same.
Artemis set another log on the fire, watching embers scatter at the impact. Several of her hunting dogs were curled up nearby, basking in the warmth. Some others were circling the perimeter, alert and ears perking at the slightest sound.
When one of them barked, Artemis glanced from the fire in time to see a silent figure emerging from the shadows. He was immediately pursued by no less than four dogs, each growling in warning.
"Leave it," Artemis said, and the growling ceased, but the dogs still eyed the figure warily.
"Artemis," Pitch greeted with a slight nod.
"Mr. Black," said Artemis. "Have you thought about our talk?"
"I have. I was hoping to talk with you again," Pitch said.
Artemis smiled and settled down on a rock near the fire, gesturing for another nearby. Pitch silently took a seat as well.
"Ideally," Pitch said, "I would be the one to eliminate the Guardians."
"Ideally," Artemis said, "You already would have."
Pitch rolled his eyes. "Right. Regardless, I suppose it doesn't matter who eliminates them as long as they are no longer a threat. 'Divide and conquer' is likely the best strategy in that regard, and you have made a fair point about severing ties between Jack Frost and the Man in the Moon. It would send the entire group into chaos. Lucky for you, Jack is already wary of him, scared that he isn't the benevolent leader he presents himself to be."
"Hm," Artemis hummed with a smile, "Jack Frost is smarter than he's given credit for."
"Indeed," said Pitch. "He's not an idiot, but he is emotional. He's sentimental. He's prone to getting attached to mortals, and we all know how that tends to go. Regardless of how Rowan Sawyer's anniversary goes, he will be distracted."
"I have plans for her anniversary regardless," Artemis said. The Muses had, of course, stated that they need to appear loyal to Apollo at least through this date. Artemis would surely get more information on the Guardians and Tsar Lunar when the Muses were finally, officially, under her rule. "What else?"
"He's wildly insecure about his place in the Guardians. He got off on the wrong foot with them, he's terrified of disappointing them, of falling short," Pitch said. "He's afraid it was all a mistake and he's not actually supposed to be there."
"Simple enough to exploit," Artemis nodded.
"He expects it to be exploited now, is the thing," Pitch said. "He can put on an act."
"Noted," said Artemis.
"Aside from that, he is overly invested in the well-being of the mortal Jamie Bennett," said Pitch.
"He's the one Rowan Sawyer was related to, correct?"
"Yes. He was also the first child to see Jack."
"The Last Light. I did not realize they were the same child. Good, I will keep that in mind," said Artemis. "Is that all?"
"Yes, I believe so," said Pitch, rising to his feet. Artemis followed suit, reaching out her hand to shake his.
"May we talk again."
"Indeed."
It was two days past Christmas when Jack, after causing some blizzards that would result in perfect conditions for testing out winter-related Christmas gifts, returned to his cabin and found a box set before the door with a black widow stamped on top.
Another goddamn suit.
The ball was on Tuesday, a date that had started looming over his shoulder and whispering in his ear about all the guests, the other ghost stories, the fancy outfits, the dancing, the claustrophobic crowds.
Jack was almost impressed that the ball had managed to make itself so present in his anxieties when Rowan's anniversary was perched so comfortably on his other shoulder and had been all year, counting days, hours, minutes, seconds, spinning him around in hypotheticals and debates over whether it was worth it to be hopeful or optimistic while stumbling through the stages of grief.
Thirty-two days to go.
Jack picked up the box and entered the cabin, letting the door fall closed behind him as he approached the small table and set the box there.
Jack had no idea what to expect. He hadn't gone to any fittings this year, North approving his design for him to spare the boy the trouble. Even if he had met with Arachne, he hadn't exactly provided a lot of useful feedback for her the previous year.
She seemed to know what she was doing. It was probably fine.
He kept finding himself nervous at the idea that there might be a necktie included with this suit again. It made sense, that sort of thing usually was included with men's formal attire.
Jack had mentioned to Arachne during the wedding preparations a few months ago that he had no idea how to tie any form of tie, that Rowan had tied the necktie for him at the previous ball. Arachne had therefore given him a clip-on for the wedding and the subject was not discussed further.
Even fiddling with that clip-on necktie had reminded Jack too much of Rowan.
It was a source of great frustration for the boy. Why ties? Of all things to get overly sentimental about when it came to her, why ties? It was so stupid!
But somehow, the way she fiddled with his collar and adjusted the tie for him, had stayed very clear in his mind.
Rowan knew how to tie a necktie because the musicians she admired in her teenage years had worn them, sometimes with full suits but often with casual attire and loud hairstyles, an odd fashion statement. Jack recalled those few days between Christmas and New Year's Eve the previous year, where she would point out musicians pinned to the wall in her childhood bedroom and share memories of significant songs, of crushes from afar on charismatic frontmen and frontwomen.
It was yet another instance of Jack growing close to the girl, learning what he could about her, despite every warning. The memory of the necktie wasn't really about the necktie anymore.
It was the oddly domestic gestures of her adjusting his tie and him helping her zip her dress before they left. It was the stories behind the tie and the dress, the conversations that seemed mundane and casual but built intimacy that he missed desperately.
It was that moment after the ball when she had used the necktie to pull him into a kiss that sent his already racing heart into overdrive.
Thus, here Jack was: pacing his cabin instead of opening the damn box, too nervous to find out if he would have to wear a tie to this event.
There was another box in the cabin, this one empty and square, a place to put all the various items and keepsakes on his shelves and pinned to the nearby wall. Jack had reluctantly agreed to the changes in the blueprints North had shown him, and the shelves would need to come down for the process to move forward.
He hadn't put anything in the box yet. North and the Yetis wouldn't be by until the new year to renovate. Part of Jack shrunk away from the change, having grown used to having his things exactly where they were in the short amount of time he had been residing there.
Part of him hoped the change of scenery would allow him to move forward, past the memories of the time he had spent mourning and angry in this particular layout.
Still unwilling to open the box from Arachne, Jack found himself approaching his shelves and filling the square storage box.
The wisdom tooth that had been given to him by Tooth. The matryoshka doll that North had given to him. The dream sand that Sandy had provided for the others, both his standard sand in case of an emergency and the sand that guaranteed a dreamless sleep that was his yearly gift at Christmas. The case of chocolate eggs from Bunny that Jack had barely made a dent on.
The journal that Cupid had given him, the handful of pens that he would set on whichever part of the shelves happened to be closest to him at the moment. Plain ceramic mugs for coffee.
Item after item was set in the box until only one remained: the framed drawing that Rowan had given him the previous Christmas. Jack ran his fingers along the frame and frowned.
He always liked the drawings she had done of him, and she seemed to enjoy drawing him in particular, even asking him at one point to hold his hands in certain poses so that she could draw studies of them.
Jack still had a great deal of fondness for this portrait that she had gifted him to go along with the other drawings of him in the cabin, gifts from believers. She had captured so much in careful, colored pencil lines.
But he often found himself wishing he had a self-portrait of the girl.
She had done a few for classes and never willingly displayed them, insisting that they were her least-interesting projects. He wished he had talked her into letting him have one, knowing they were likely now tucked away in a portfolio somewhere in her parents' house, completely out of his reach.
Jack gently set the frame in the box before beginning to pull push-pins from the wall, gathering together all of the drawings and photographs there. When he set the pile atop the picture frame in the box, it was hard to deny how much more abandoned the cabin looked.
Frowning still, Jack approached his bed and pulled Rowan's red notebook from beneath the pillow and added this to the box as well.
Unsure what else to do to keep procrastinating, Jack approached the table again, eying the box from Arachne.
Trembling hands reached forward, pulling the lid off.
A suit with a cape peered back at him. The material appeared to be black, but when the light hit it a certain way, gave impressions of the deepest blue, like a clear night sky.
The cape was fastened with a silver chain, featuring charms that represented the phases of the moon. There was a waistcoat, a dark blue. The dress shirt was white.
There was no tie.
Jack sighed heavily, more relieved than he should be.