Summary:

"He's been unconscious for too long - he's going to die if he doesn't wake up soon."

The guardians wait for Jack, who is unsure where to go.

Previously:

"It's okay." A voice soothed. It fazed in and out of his ears.

Pain.

His breaths quickened as the pain grew sharper around his middle.

"You have to –"

Pain. Terror. Pain.

"Stay –"

Pain.

"Alive –"

Terror.

"Please –"

Pain.

"For us!"

Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pai –

—

Jack felt like he was in a small box.

He wasn't really aware of where he was anymore; he couldn't remember how he got there or who he was, apart from his name.

Jack Frost. Funny name.

But this wasn't why he was feeling so…boxed at that moment. He himself had never been inside a small box, but if he had, he was sure it would feel something like he was feeling now: surrounded by darkness, almost unable to breathe, and numb.

Hang on…numb? Me and numb don't mix, his thoughts told him, providing some hazy flashes of memory to prove it. Jack would've furrowed his eyebrows if he could feel his face right now, surprised he forgot the most important fact about himself.

He was The Spirit of Winter, and had some fancy winter powers to go with the title. Strangely, the lack of memories didn't bother him – he just had a huge sense of déjà vu. Lived through it. Done that.

What was bothering him more was the fact that he felt like he was in a small box.

Because he really didn't like boxes.

At this point, he would've screamed in frustration – but then again, he couldn't feel his mouth so that wouldn't work. Jack did it in his head instead, trying to figure out where he managed to end up in. He tried to strain his memories further but all he got was a pulsing headache and a high pitched buzz in his ears.

Well so much for that.

Jack tried to move, but that turned out as a failure too. Whether he liked it or not, he was stuck, unable to do anything.

In a small box.

Oddly, Jack felt detached from his body. He knew it was his, but his mind was elsewhere, almost as if he left his physical form entirely. If that really had happened, he was screwed because his mind apparently had decided to spend the rest of its days in a small box instead of finding the body.

The more he thought about it (which wasn't too hard seeing as there was nothing else to do was think) the more he wondered where exactly he was, seeing as something must've happened to lead to this.

Another memory flashed through his mind. He was in pain, that was clear, but everything else was black around him.

Great. Apparently when he had an idea of who he was, he thought it was a good idea to be in a small box too.

The memory kept fazing in and out of his mind on repeat, and Jack could hear some voices he had not paid any attention to before. The memory-voices were shouting (and was that…crying? It was) about something that he couldn't hear.

Jack inwardly sighed as the memory came to a halt, leaving him once again to his own thoughts.

"I – something – wr –"

Jack thought it was another memory at first, but it soon became clear that someone was next to him, talking. Were they in the same box?

"hel – no – I –"

Well that's helpful, Jack mused. Angrily, he tried to get the voice's attention, but he remained still and frozen. He figured that his eyes were closed, and tried to open them, but the headache only grew to a stabbing migraine.

"Loosing him! Qui –"

Loosing who?

Jack's mind was growing tired at all the thinking. In fact, just functioning currently had drained him, and he would gladly fall unconscious if it wasn't for the voices (there were a few now) all talking around him. He caught snippets of conversation:

"That was too close." A deep voice with a heavy accent.

"Why hasn't he woken up yet? It's been weeks…" This was a female voice, laced with worry. Who she was worrying for he had no idea.

"He's been unconscious for too long - he's going to die if he doesn't wake up soon." The low voice was back.

"He ain't gonna die. Not after all we've done." A new voice joined the fray, and it was Australian by the sounds of things.

Silence returned around him, and Jack thought he had slipped back into whatever state he was in before until the female voice spoke again, quieter.

"Is that all we can do?"

Then there was silence again.

Jack was slowly becoming more aware of his surroundings – like he was uncomfortably warm, and something wet was on his cheeks – tears.

Why had he been crying?

The conversation didn't continue and Jack sighed. This time, however, his mouth obeyed, and a small puff of air rushed past his lips.

"Jack?" The low voice questioned. Jack desperately wanted to roll his eyes, but it seemed like his body was back to "shut down mode". He managed a weak groan, but not the answer back he was aiming for.

"Open your eyes for me, Jack."

North. Jack realised with a jolt. How could've I forgot him?

Broken images of the older guardian burned through his mind and, like a virus, it triggered other memories that had been cast aside.

Well at least I'm not in a box.

With the memories came his sense of feeling – something that wasn't as welcoming. Though not as bad as before, pain still infected each part of his body, and the idea of going back to sleep in the small box was really tempting.

"Please. For us." North whispered. Jack moaned again and tried to open his eyes. Minutes ticked by, and finally his eyelids began to flutter open.

He was on a hospital bed, surrounded by white walls. Jack thought it looked like badly placed snow.

"Focus."

Blinking, Jack obeyed, concentrating on the immortals gathered around his bed. All guardians were staring at him in disbelief and some concern as he blinked in the bright lights.

"Have I got something on my face?" Jack croaked with a weak smile. The guardians around him smiled – Tooth had began to cry. Jack just lay there, bewildered at all the raw emotion.

"Err, guys…I'm good." He tried to reassure, but this only seemed to anger Bunny.

"Ya ain't good, Frosty." He growled. Jack blinked in response. "Ya have a fever that is too high for a human, let alone a frosted spirit."

Well that's why he felt so hot.

With a sigh, he let himself rest on the pillows, swallowing thickly. Closing his eyes, he let himself relax under the sheets.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Tooth asked suddenly, catching the spirit off guard. His fevered mind stopped him from constructing an excuse, so he thought it would be easier to say the truth. They probably would agree, anyway.

"You wouldn't have really cared…" Jack opened his eyes slowly again, looking at the tubes digging into his skin. "…or so I thought…"

"Why did you think that?" North's voice was filled with an emotion that Jack didn't fully recognise.

"I…" he swallowed. "…we have only just met each other…so…"

"So you think we wouldn't help you?" North finished for him. Closing his eyes, Jack nodded.

"That's kinda how it was before, so…" The spirit yawned, snuggling further under the covers. If he'd opened his eyes again, he would've seen each guardian's face twist in guilt and shock at the blunt truthfulness of his words. He would've seen the regret and hurt reflect in their eyes at the realisation of what they'd done.

But Jack was too happy at realising that he wasn't in a small box to bother opening his eyes once more, so he decided to just relax.

"Do you need anything?" Tooth asked softly. Jack shook his head, smiling slightly.

"I'm good." He whispered tiredly, finally drifting off into a safe sleep. No voices invaded his thoughts, and no more shadows were running through his veins.

With a small smile and a relaxed sigh, Jack dug himself under the covers, gladly blocking out the world.

After all, winter could wait.

The end…of this arc.

Hehehe I'm sorry my endings are BAD but I wanted to move on, so…