This could be better but it's already late and... well I don't actually care so

A combined request from Maiamaid, Mandi, xoxo, and maybear. But also heavily inspired by DragonflyonBreak's 'Crossing the Line' (which I got permission to do a version of AGES ago and which is super good. If you haven't read it I highly suggest jumping ship right now and going to read that instead)

Please note also: This chapter is set super early on in the timeline of these one-shots. It's somewhere after 'Alone Together', but not much after. Jack has only been a Guardian for a really short time.

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Mistakes

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Jack veered sharply to the right, half sliding up the wall, and leaving a thick stream of ice in his wake. Behind him, the elves cheered silently as they sped along, barely managing to stop themselves from flying over the sides. He'd come across an entire gang of them while he'd been exploring North's Workshop (which turned out to be even larger than he'd thought), and they'd warmed up to him quickly. He'd seen something of their mischievous streak when North had ushered him through the main workshop not so long ago, but he'd seriously underestimated them. These particular ones had been in the process of trying to make a slide out of books in the library. Jack had offered them a real slide, and, well, here they were.

Up ahead, the wall opened up into an elevator shaft. The elevator was nowhere in sight. It might as well have had a big glowing arrow pointing down invitingly. Jack grinned at the elves over his shoulder.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?"

The elves beamed at him, their little belled hats jingling as they nodded excitedly.

Jack didn't even hesitate. He dove head-first down the shaft, dragging the end of his staff along the wall as he went. The elves thudded against the shaft as their slide spiralled, before it smoothed out and shot through the next opening into the workshop proper.

The yetis shouted in alarm as Jack skidded along the floor between their workstations. He offered Phil a wink and a salute as he passed, and laughed when the shouting only got louder when they caught sight of the elves. Jack let himself be distracted, turning so he was sliding backwards. He thoroughly enjoyed the sight of them nimbly spinning and somehow avoiding every attempt the yetis made at grabbing them.

A panicked cry and a surge in the draft had him hastily returning his attention forward, but too late. He had a second to take in the table stacked high with freshly painted jenga blocks before he barrelled straight into it. The table slammed onto its side, sending Jack tumbling into an avalanche of jenga. Several smaller thuds indicated that the elves had shared his fate.

"Ow," Jack groaned. That was going to leave a mark, and not just from the paint. "Guess I lose."

The elves struggled to free themselves, their little legs kicking up into the air, but they seemed to find this just as much fun as the slide had been. Well, at least they were easy to please.

Jack choked on a gasp as something grabbed him by the neck of his hoodie and hauled him out of the pile. And, suddenly, he was dangling off the ground, face to face with a furious yeti.

"Heeeey, Phil!" he smiled sheepishly.

Phil shook him once to punctuate his unintelligible grumbling. He jabbed a finger at the collapsed jenga blocks, gestured broadly at Jack's paint-dotted clothes, and then waved a hand at the ice. Jack blinked owlishly at him, knowing he was in trouble but not understanding a single word.

"Um."

Phil glared at him, snatching his staff straight out of his hand and tossing it to a second yeti standing nearby.

Jack immediately started struggling. "Hey! Give that back!" He squirmed, desperate to escape Phil's hold, but his grip was like iron. It only got harder when Phil marched him over to the elevator. He took one look at the ice-filled shaft, yelled something else, and made for the staircase Jack hadn't even known was there.

Phil carried him all the way down to the Globe Room, deaf to Jack's demands to be released and his continued to protests right until North's authoritative voice called out,

"What is this?"

Jack went limp. Oh, this was bad. He slowly turned his head to face North, and saw the full assembly of Guardians staring at him. Oh, this was very bad. The oath had said 'now and forevermore', but how binding was that? Could they revoke it? Were they going to throw him out?

The second yeti stepped forward, handing Jack's staff over to North. Phil gave Jack another shake as he no doubt began telling North exactly what had happened, complete with dramatic exaggeration to make Jack look worse. He wished he could understand Yetish.

North's brow rose higher and higher the more Phil talked, his gaze darting to Jack every so often. Then, as Phil finally finished, he turned his attention to the staff still in his hand.

"You suggest we confiscate staff in Workshop?" he frowned.

Across the room, Bunny snorted. "Doubt it'd stop him from stirring up trouble."

Tooth and Sandy drifted over to hover at North's side.

Jack gaped at them. Confiscate his staff? What, like he was some disobedient five year old? He felt the temperature of the room around him drop as his frustration turned into anger. Phil dropped him with a gasp as ice bit at his fingers.

Jack's feet barely brushed against the floor before he was leaping forward, making a grab for his staff. North startled at being unexpectedly charged. He staggered back into Tooth, who in turn knocked into Sandy. The three of them went down in a heap, and North threw his arm backwards to break his fall. There was a snap, as deafening as a gunshot. To Jack, it might as well have been.

He jolted, barely managing to catch himself as the painful wrenching of his core took out his balance. He looked over at the slowly recovering Guardians with wide eyes. North, expression horrified, stared down at the two halves of Jack's staff.

"Jack–"

Jack didn't want to hear it. He snatched both halves from him, fuming. "I might be stuck as a kid, but don't you dare think for one second that that gives you the right to treat me like one. I survived by myself for three hundred years just fine. I didn't need you to play 'parents' then, and I definitely don't need you to now." He turned sideways so the Guardians and both yetis could clearly see as he fused his staff back together – something he had become annoyingly familiar with lately. "This–" he lifted the now mended staff "–is not a toy. You don't get to take it from me whenever I do something you don't like. I got a little carried away with the ice, and I'm sorry, but that doesn't excuse whatever the hell you think you're trying to do."

They'd forfeited the right to insert themselves as parental figures in his life when they'd done nothing to help him until it'd suited them.

With one last furious glare at their dumbstruck faces, he turned and stormed from the room, not even bothering to call on the wind until he was outside in the snow.

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He didn't know why, but instead of retreating to the isolation of the Burgess lake or Antarctica, Jack found himself perched on the spire of the tallest tower of Mother Nature's castle. Maybe it was because he was sick and tired of being alone, and here there were at least others nearby who could see him, even if they didn't much like him. At least here he wouldn't be treated like a child.

(Mother Nature tended to baby him, but she, like the other nature spirits, were well aware of what he was capable of, which tended to make it more loving than condescending.)

A light flurry had started to match his mood. It would melt before it hit the ground – Mom regulated the weather here very carefully – but it did mean she would know he was here.

Predictably, it wasn't long before he saw her appear on the roof tiles just below him. He kept his gaze fixed on the horizon. He didn't want to talk.

She leaned back against the tiles and tilted her head to better see him.

"Your staff broke again."

Jack's attention darted to her in surprise. "How did you know?" Whenever he repaired it, the cracks vanished entirely.

…Didn't they?

"I can sense the magic holding it together." She eyed it critically. "It snapped along a previous fault line. The magic is stronger than a regular repair."

Jack twisted the staff gently in his hands, but couldn't see whatever she did. Three-hundred years without incident, and then he got involved with the Guardians and suddenly it was being snapped every other week. Figures.

"If it was Pitch Black again–"

"It wasn't," Jack cut her off. If it had been, he wouldn't be as upset as he was.

"What happened, Jack?" Mom asked, reaching a hand up towards him.

Jack sighed. He took one hand off his staff, and let her guide him down so he was reclining beside her. He was silent for a long time, but she was content to wait. "I'm not a child," he eventually muttered.

Mother Nature stared up at the overcast sky. "How old were you when you took up your mantle?"

He'd guessed this was coming. "Fourteen."

"How long have you been a spirit?"

"…Three-hundred years."

"And how long do spirits live?"

Jack frowned. Trick question. "Indefinitely."

Mother Nature rolled her head to the side so she was facing him. "Then I should think by all accounts you are a child, as I'm sure you already know. So tell me," she put her hand, pleasantly warm, on his shoulder. "What is it you are actually trying to say?"

Jack let his head thump against the roof. "The Guardians broke my staff," he confessed, answering her earlier question. "It was an accident."

She waited patiently, instinctively knowing there was more.

"I just… They treat me like a kid. As if I'm just some unruly teenager they can punish whenever it suits them. But I'm not! I'm a three century old winter spirit, and they can't just… just take my stuff when I mess up!" He huffed, forcing himself to relax and ease some of the tension in his shoulders. "I guess… I just feel like they don't really see me as one of them. I don't feel equal."

"I imagine the Guardians, for all that they stand for, don't actually have a lot of experience with children, and teenagers even less so," Mother Nature began slowly after a moment. "They likely have trouble disassociating you with the idea of children they've built up in their minds. You are a child, Jack, but they should remember that you are not their child. You are their colleague, and, I hope, their friend."

Jack hoped that, too, but he still wasn't entirely sure if it was true.

"I cannot speak for them, but you know I am always willing to listen."

"I know," he murmured. It was too bad; talking to her had always come so easily.

"Would you like advice, or did you just want to vent?"

He considered for a moment. "Advice, please."

"Talk to them."

Jack pulled a face. But he knew she was right. There were a lot of things he should probably talk to them about. "How are you so good at this?"

"I'm your mother. It's my job," she smiled. "Now why don't you come inside? Your troublesome siblings are here and I'm sure they'd love to see you. Assuming, of course, they've finished eavesdropping."

There was a panicked squeak from somewhere below, beyond their view, and then a gust of wind decorated with petals, leaves, and the heavy scent of sea spray and sunscreen.

"You could have told me," Jack scowled.

Mother Nature raised a brow. "Do you really mind?"

Yes, he started to say, but quickly cut himself off when he realised he actually didn't. He'd already sorted out his differences with the other seasonals to the point where they actually did feel like siblings, instead of co-workers or even just friends. And how many times had Flee eavesdropped on him, way back when? If anything, it saved him from having to talk about it with them, too. Though, like Mom, for the most part their mild babying of him wasn't really condescending at all. It was more teasing than anything. And, well, that was just what siblings were like. "…Not really."

But, of course, she knew that too.

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Jack didn't end up heading back to the Pole until later in the day, instead opting to hang around the meadow for a while longer (though the other seasonals had evidently vanished). He had no idea if the Guardians would all still be there or not, but he supposed it would be easy enough to call them back; this was a conversation he only intended to have once.

When he stepped into the Globe Room, though, he very quickly spotted all four Guardians. And some unexpected guests.

"Um," he said. "What's going on?"

All eyes immediately turned on him.

Jack took in the way the three of them were practically looming over the Guardians, and tried not to sigh. "Please tell me this isn't what I think it is."

"That depends on what you think it is," Ceres grinned sharply. "I'm flexible."

"Okay, no. Enough. Leave them alone." Jack stepped forward, and used the crook of his staff to shepherd Lleu towards the door.

"But we're not finished!" he protested. "I didn't even get to the lightning yet!"

The Guardians visibly paled.

"You're not going to start a fight in here," Jack declared sternly.

"Not a fight," May denied. "Just reminding him what it means to cross the most powerful of the nature spirits." And wow, okay, Jack made a note not to get on her bad side.

"Look, this is… very flattering and all," he pushed her towards Lleu, "but completely unnecessary. You shouldn't have been listening in on a private conversation anyway."

Lleu looked inordinately disappointed. "But–"

"No buts. This is between me and them. So thanks," he gave them a very pointed look, "but I can fight my own battles."

"We try to stick up for you and this is the thanks we get," Ceres huffed, crossing her arms. "Fine. Be mature and talk it out. But know that our way would get the job done much quicker."

Jack didn't doubt it.

"Thanks, Ceres. Now out."

"Yeah, yeah."

They grumbled the entire way, but Jack was the child. Honestly.

The Guardians, when he turned back to them, looked marginally scarred. "Sorry," he took the vacant spot on the couch beside Sandy. "They're just…" He didn't know how to finish that sentence so he didn't bother.

"Jack," North tried, expression remorseful.

"Is it okay if I talk first?"

Unanimous nodding. Maybe more than a little scarred. But oh well. It worked in his favour.

Jack had rehearsed what he'd planned to say at least two dozen times on the flight there. That plan promptly threw itself out the nearest window and refused to come back in. Damn, Jack thought, resigned. Guess I'm winging it.

"First of all, I'm sorry. Both for the mess, and for reacting the way I did." He wouldn't say he'd overreacted, but he definitely could have handled it better. "I'm not… used to being treated like a kid anymore. I know I technically am one, but… but I've been on my own for," he paused, taking a breath. "For a really long time. And. And I didn't need parents then," no matter how much he would have liked to have had them, "and I don't need any now. Not like that.

"We're supposed to be Guardians." He forced himself to lift his gaze and look at them, and was surprised to see how sad they were. Tooth's eyes were watering like she was going to cry. "We're supposed to be a team. But it's not going to work unless you stop seeing me as someone you need to baby, and start treating me like one of you."

"Jack," North said, and this time Jack didn't stop him. "We are sorry, too." And Jack could see on his and the others' faces that it was for more than for what had happened earlier.

"You are one of us, mate," Bunny added. Sandy nodded vigorously in agreement.

"You're more than that," Tooth countered. "You're family. And we're so sorry we made you feel like that. We promise to do better, if you promise to call us out if we ever make you uncomfortable again, okay?"

Now Jack was the one on the verge of tears. How nice it would have been, he thought, to have had them right from the very beginning. Better late than never. "Deal."

"And maybe save the ice slides for outside?" Bunny suggested.

North slapped him on the back so hard his fur stood on end. "Nonsense, Bunny!" he bellowed. Then, with a wink at Jack, "Just out of workshop."

Jack grinned. "I think I can manage that."

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