Yo! First off, a warning about this one. It's uh... not family friendly, I guess? There's some gore. If ya don't like that sort of thing maybe skip over the first section at least...

I'm not completely happy with this one, and I have no idea what I'm talking about 90% of the time so forgive any inconsistencies or blatantly incorrect medical... things. I guess. :T It's already super late tho so it is what it is. I managed to incorporate the requests of Innadid, weathergirl17248, and DaisySullivan, tho, so if you want a part 2 I have the space to do that now.

Anyway I've officially settled into my new place, and my mood is Good so updates should resume their fortnightly schedule :) Thanks for all your patience!

Disclaimed

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All Things End

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Jack woke to pain. His whole body ached, and his stomach felt like it was on fire. There was something hard and jagged pressing into his shoulders, but much of the rest of him felt strangely aloft, as if the wind were supporting him. But as he exhaled and felt his own breath against his face, he knew that, wherever he was, there was no wind here.

He blinked open his eyes. And blinked again. There was nothing but darkness around him. Had he gone blind? He tried to lift his head – hoping to see anything – only to bang into something solid directly above him. Searing pain tore through him at the movement, and it didn't come from his increasingly pounding head. It felt like someone had doused his stomach in gasoline and set a match to it. Every tiny twitch intensified the agony until it left him heaving for what little dust-scented air he could get, and every hyperventilated breath started the cycle over again. Somewhere, beyond the furious beating of his own heart, he could faintly make out a steady drip, drip, drip. He had a bad feeling it wasn't water.

Okay, he forced himself to take longer breaths, trying to restrict his movement as much as possible. Panicking was only making it worse. Okay, think. You don't know where you are and you can't move. What happened?

He didn't know. He couldn't remember. It hurt to think. It hurt to do anything.

Cautiously, Jack reached one hand upwards, intending to identify his surroundings by touch. He'd barely lifted it off the surface it had been lying on before his entire body jolted downwards. His vision flared white. He couldn't hear himself scream.

Dust settled on his face, enticing Jack back to consciousness. He squinted against an onslaught of light – blessedly warm against his freezing skin – shining down from above. He could see the sky.

"No! No, don't move."

He hadn't even realised he'd started trying to rise until he was being firmly but gently pushed back down.

Jack let his head roll to the side. Bunny was crouched on the edge of a hole in a pile of rubble, looking down at him. His fur was coated white from cement dust. His expression was stricken.

"Hey," Jack croaked.

"Hey, yaself," Bunny murmured.

"Wha's goin' on?"

Bunny grimaced. "Try not to talk, mate." His attention was fixed on Jack's chest, beyond his line of sight. Someone nearby shouted. Jack wished he knew what was going on.

It could probably wait while he had a nap, he thought. He didn't think he'd ever been so tired in his life. He turned his head and spat out a mouthful of something coppery. Yeah. He'd just rest his eyes for a moment and when he woke up again things would start making sense.

"None of that, mate," Bunny shook him lightly.

"Why?" Jack whined. "'m tired."

"I know, but if ya fall asleep I can't guarantee you'll wake up again."

…What? He put all of his very meagre concentration to studying Bunny's expression. There was no hint of a smile on his face, no teasing in his eyes. He wasn't joking. But that didn't make sense. "But I'm immortal, I–"

A battle cry, feminine – Tooth? – in the distance. Metal clashing. Jack felt a chill down his spine, and a familiar anxiety. He knew this feeling.

"Oh."

Oh no.

"Oh?" Bunny glanced at him, frowning more in confusion now than concern.

Jack ignored him. He needed to try and focus. He needed to know why Bunny thought he was in danger of not waking up. He needed to know why he could feel that presence so close. He needed to know why he felt so cold.

He forced his head upwards as far is he could, deaf to Bunny's loud protests for him not to move. He was lying face-up in a small crater of shattered concrete and bent rebar. His hoodie, once blue, was stained an alarming brown. His torso was suspended about an inch off the ground by three pieces of rebar, pierced through his gut like a fork through a meat. A large puddle of blood had collected underneath him and soaked through his sleeves where his arms were sprawled haphazardly over the rock.

Ah. That explained it.

He let his head fall back as nausea washed over him. Dark spots danced across his vision. He opened his eyes again to Bunny's panicked face. He couldn't remember having closed them.

"Stay awake, Jack!"

Jack hummed. He couldn't hear the dripping anymore. He'd probably run out of blood to lose. He couldn't even feel any pain. But he was still alive. He was still, somehow, conscious. And from the sounds of things, Death was coming to correct that.

But I'm immortal, Jack reminded himself. He had to be, or he wouldn't be here to watch Bunny flounder over what to do. And now he was also a Guardian. The only way he could die now was to fade, and that could only happen if enough kids stopped believing. Death couldn't touch him.

"Hey," he said quietly. "Help me up."

Bunny very obviously did not want to. "I can't move the rebar."

"I've already bled out, I think," Jack told him. "I can't feel it anymore. I need you to help me up."

"Bunny!" North's voice, sounding anxious, called from beyond the rubble.

"Workin' on it!" Bunny shouted back. Then, to Jack, "Alright, mate." He hesitated a moment, before slipping one paw under Jack's shoulders and the other under his knees. "Deep breath."

Jack did as he was asked, despite already knowing he wasn't going to feel anything. It would at least help put Bunny at ease. Even if only a little.

.

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There was quite a commotion going on. The fear was so tangible, it might as well have been a physical thing. He'd followed it all the way there, to where the Guardians were taking a greater involvement in human affairs than they had for the last several centuries. He suspected they had their youngest member to thank for that. He stood on the sidelines, in the shadow of a building down the street, and took in the scene with a critical eye.

There had been some kind of explosion, from the looks of things, and it had completely obliterated the lowest three floors of a multi-story apartment block. The supports were practically shattered. The entire thing looked one strong breeze away from blowing over. The Guardians were dashing in and out of the building, carrying out those who believed, and doing what they could to shepherd those who didn't.

The fear he'd sensed was a combination from both children and adults. Fear of the unknown, of loss, of death. Nothing particularly extraordinary. He turned, ready to return to his lair and enjoy it without ruining it by watching the Guardians work, but paused when he spotted a new figure emerging from thin air.

Death had made an appearance. They were there for the ones who hadn't – couldn't – survive the initial explosion, he presumed, or the ones who wouldn't – shouldn't – be able to escape the building's inevitable collapse. Nothing to be particularly concerned about. Still, his eyes found themselves tracking a blue hoodie as its owner ducked in through a shattered window on the fifth floor. Maybe he would stick around a while.

No one noticed Death's steady approach, not until they were nearly within arm's length of a small huddle of humans on the sidewalk across the road. North and Toothiana were the first, emerging from the building with three children between them. Tooth seized one of the swords sheathed at North's side. A single nod was all it took for North to disappear back inside. She would handle the intruder. Foolish woman.

"Not another step!" she yelled, sword sharp and glare sharper.

Death didn't even glance at her. They continued on, focus intent on a man slouched by a light pole. The woman beside him had a phone wedged against her ear by her shoulder, and both hands pressing desperately against a growing blood-stain on the man's side. Sirens screamed in the distance. Not close enough.

Tooth flew into Death's path. She would not use her borrowed weapon for decoration.

Death walked right through her like she was little more than fog. Tooth gasped, shivering violently. Her wings failed, and she fell to the ground in a heap. But in less than a second she was back in the air, charging towards them with a battle cry on her lips.

Behind her, the apartment building gave one final gunshot crack and crumbled to pieces. Tooth's attention snapped back to it, eyes wide with horror. Death stopped walking. The air was thick with dust. It was impossible to tell who had made it out in time.

North was the first to emerge from the cloud. He coughed violently, waving dust from his face. There were two small children plastered to his sides and two more adults supporting each other behind him. Sandy was next, descending from above with a cat clutched to his chest and a fishbowl nestled precariously on a cloud of dreamsand.

A string of indecipherable curses preceded the rabbit's arrival. A shame. His fur was more white than grey, and he brushed at it furiously. He stood tall on his hind legs, surveying the cluster of rescued people and his fellow Guardians.

Still hiding in the shadows, Pitch watched as it slowly dawned on Bunny what he himself had already realised. They were one short.

"Where's Jack?!" Bunny asked.

The other Guardian's faces paled. Death slowly turned to face the rubble.

North drew his remaining sword.

A Nightmare appeared at Pitch's side, snorting in anticipation. He didn't spare a thought to whose fear it had formed from.

"Bunny," North said, never once taking his eyes off Death, "find Jack."

Bunny, who had pulled out his boomerangs, started to protest. He'd barely said a word before he cut himself off with gritted teeth, and disappeared into the remains of the building. A smart choice; he was best suited to finding anything under such a mess.

A golden whip sprang to life in Sandy's hand as he positioned himself between North and Tooth, effectively surrounding Death on three sides. Pitch doubted they'd even manage to slow them down. You couldn't stop a phenomenon. You couldn't trap something intangible.

Death stalked towards the building.

Sandy's whip struck the ground just in front of them. They didn't stop. North came in swinging from the front. Death caught the blade on their scythe.

"You are not needed here!" he growled.

Death said nothing. A flick to the side disarmed North. A blow with the blunt end of the scythe sent him staggering out of the way.

Sandy cracked his whip again, this time catching around the scythe's handle. Death turned their head towards him, immune to the fierce, disapproving scowl on Sandy's face.

Tooth charged again, sword poised to strike. Death swung their scythe around, sending Sandy crashing into her. They both tumbled to the ground in a heap. Death barely spared them a second glance before continuing on towards the building.

North pushed himself back to his feet, snatching his sword from where it lied and planting himself firmly in Death's path. "Bunny!"

"Workin' on it!" Bunny's voice filtered through the rubble. He'd found Jack. Pitch could feel his fear. Interestingly, there was none from Jack himself.

"No closer!" North ordered, sword levelled with Death's face.

Death wrapped a bony hand around the blade. The steel started to rust.

"Leave them alone!" a weak voice called. "It's me you want!"

North and Death turned to the source. Tooth and Sandy, recovering from their tumble, did the same. Atop the rubble stood Bunnymund, one paw wrapped around Jack Frost's right arm to keep him upright. He was barely standing, completely hunched over, and his left arm was wrapped tightly over his stomach, only partially concealing the still-wet blood soaked through his hoodie. He was paler than Pitch had ever seen him, and there were deep hollows under his eyes. It was markedly different from the constantly moving, lively way he usually held himself. For the first time since Pitch had known him, he actually looked like the reanimated corpse he supposedly was. And if anything, that only increased Death's determination to reap his immortal soul.

In the time it took to blink, Death disappeared from where they'd been, reappearing again directly in front of Jack. Bunny moved to intercept with all the bravery and stupidity of his kind. Death's focus remained on Jack, even as Bunny's attack passed harmlessly through them. A single swing of the scythe pushed him back out of range and tumbling down the side of the remains of the building, leaving Jack weak, unarmed, and entirely defenceless.

'Time's up,' Death said.

Jack lifted his head and straightened his back, defiant to the end. Pitch still couldn't sense any fear, despite the three other Nightmares that had joined the first. "You can't touch me."

'The Moon cannot protect you. All things have an end. Yours is well overdue.'

"This isn't how spirits die. You can't touch me."

'We shall see.'

The scythe came up level with Jack's neck. There would be no gentle guidance for the boy who refused to die.

Jack didn't flinch. If this was a bluff, he certainly got points for acting.

Pitch had seen enough. Without any verbal instruction, he sent all four Nightmares out into the street. The Guardians spotted them immediately. They split off into two teams: Tooth and Sandy going after them while North and Bunny scrambled to reach Jack in time to stop the attack. It was already clear they wouldn't make it.

Death swung their scythe. Pitch decided not to find out if Jack had been bluffing. The blade sliced through the air where he'd been only half a second before, barely missing as the boy fell through the shadows cast at his feet, and disappeared.

Death stared at the ground before turning his gaze to look directly at where Pitch was still standing.

"I've been wanting to kill him for three years," Pitch said, not raising his voice despite the distance between them. Death would hear. "I won't let you take the honour."

'All things end, Kozmotis Pitchiner.'

He didn't need the reminder. No one knew that better than him.

A single gesture of Death's head was all it took to snuff out the fear of three humans in the area. Pitch couldn't see the souls of the dead, but he could easily imagine them following their shepherd through the veil. Death was not antagonistic by nature, Pitch knew. They simply had a job to do, much like the rest of them.

All things end.

But, then, he'd never been much good at letting go.

The Nightmares had fallen quickly to Tooth's quick blade and Sandy's dreamsand, not that he had expected any differently. Pitch searched the crowd for the other two, just in time to narrowly avoid a boomerang to the face.

"Pitch! Ya rat bastard!"

The sirens of emergency vehicles grew exponentially louder as they turned onto the street.

"Where is Jack?!" North demanded. But it lacked the anger Pitch had expected to hear.

He scoffed, slipping into the shadows. "You'd best do your job, Guardians," his voice echoed. "Unless you want to take the 'un' out of 'undead'."

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Jack blinked slowly, cheek pressed against wooden floorboards. He was fairly certain he hadn't blacked out this time, and given how he was 98% sure he was now sprawled across the floor of North's Workshop, he could only assume he had been transported somehow. His mind was foggy, making it painfully hard to think clearly, but it had felt like shadow travel. But that would mean Pitch, which didn't really make any sense.

The floorboards vibrated with the force of heavy approaching footsteps. Jack expected to be hauled up by his arms and set back on his feet, so it only increased his confusion when, instead, all he got was indecipherable panic.

Something blessedly warm nudged his shoulder, and the next thing Jack knew he was being rolled onto his back to stare up at Phil. The yeti's expression was almost comically similar to the one Bunny had worn last he'd seen him.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he said flatly. Probably a lie, but oh well.

Phil did not agree. To be fair, his hoodie really wasn't blue anymore.

"Really, I can't even feel it," Jack insisted. "I just need to sleep." For the next century or so sounded good. He should get some sugar in his system too, he mused. He wasn't feeling particularly hungry, but that might have been because his stomach had shutdown. Who could say? "And probably eat something."

If anything, though, this only increased Phil's panic. He scooped Jack up as carefully as he could, frown increasing when Jack didn't so much as wince, and loitered on the edge of indecision.

"Outside," Jack offered. He didn't fancy the idea of making himself colder than he already felt, but he was beyond exhausted and he knew it would help. It wasn't like he knew his blood type, anyway. "Food first, though."

After he'd practically been force fed an entire plate of cookies by a swarm of overly enthusiastic elves, Phil carried him out into the Arctic air, and deposited him in a mound of snow that had collected by the doorway. Jack wasted no time smothering himself in it.

"Hey, um," he hesitated, nervous eyes darting across the endless white. "Would you mind staying?"

Something had happened back there, when the bleeding had first stopped, and he'd instinctively known that he should be dead, that had erased his fear of it. He'd looked at Death, at the fading humans they'd come to collect, and it had suddenly clicked that he had never been at risk of joining them at all. Because the name on Death's list was undoubtedly Jackson Overland. But he wasn't Jackson Overland. Not anymore. He was Jack Frost, and Death could no longer touch him.

Still, there was something very fear-inducing about Death as a person, and he didn't fancy another visit, especially when he was conveniently already half-buried, and was about to fall asleep for Moon knew how long.

Phil crouched down beside him, unbothered by the cold thanks to his thick fur, and leaned against the wall of the Workshop. He gave Jack a small pat on the head, and then said something that Jack couldn't understand, but which felt like a reassurance.

"Thanks," Jack smiled. "Tell the others I'll, uh, explain when I wake up." They probably wouldn't want to wait for an explanation, but, well, too bad. He let his eyes slide shut, and fell asleep to the wind whispering in his ears and Phil tucking a little more snow around his sides.

Guest Review Responses:

Lilybiel204: That would be hilarious (for them) and horrific (for North), but yeah unfortunately I just don't have the space left ^^' You're fine; no need to apologise :)

Hellow: That was exactly the poem that inspired this fic, and I used for the title! I love that poem so, so much and when I was studying it at uni I just felt so many parallels :D I always get excited when people recognise it haha