Author's note: BOOM MORE UPPITY-DATES. KINDA. SORTA. I'm just getting through all these edits before anyone actually reads it lol. But chapter two is locked and DONE. Enjoy!

A sudden brake, and an explosion fills the air. A red sleigh climbs the skies. A green figure bolts through the air, and a white haired boy fell. He was Jack Frost. Unconscious. Limp. Falling as quickly as the black sand that rained down. The green figure caught him in the nick of time and carried him back on to the sleigh. That was the Tooth Fairy. Strong, fast, and gentle. I was caught in the midst of this madness. But it had not been my choice, oh no, far from that. I was forced to be here. Because here was one of the only few places I had. But now it felt like my feet were nailed to the ground and my body was frozen. And my eyes... Glued to the sight above me.

A bright portal was ripping a hole in the sky, swallowing the sleigh, and a black meteorite-like thing was plummeting to the ground. That was Pitch Black. The devious spirit as lonely and broken as I was. But all those events, happening at the same time, did not matter to me. My eyes search the sky for something else.

Where was he?

The golden light surrounded by golden dust.

Where was he?

The golden cloud that was swallowed by the black vortex.

Where?

"Sandy?"

I remember my voice sounding so quiet and far away. Even the softest of knocks and fluttering wings could drown it. That was how helpless I felt. After what felt like a century I finally lift my legs from the rooftop I stand on. Stepping onto nothing as I glide on air to where the melee had happened. Thick coats of black sand were gliding through the air and I try not getting any in my eyes but... There was nothing to see in the first place. Everything and everyone had gone. And so was he. The sky is dark, and I remember my eyes stinging. And it wasn't just because of the sand. It was because of my helplessness and my fears. Because of my worry and pain. But mostly, it was because of Pitch. He killed my brother. My closest friend.

My only friend.

"... Sandy...?"

A sharp, malicious cackle cut through the air and I knew right away who it was. It was and always will be the voice of a murderer.

The morning was quiet. Peaceful. A baby pink color painted the skies, complimenting puffy white clouds and silhouettes of songbirds. I stare off into the distance, fingers twitching. My gray irises are heavily lidded, they always are, hidden by long black eyelashes that cascade over my upper cheekbones. At first glance, you might think I'm about doze off. But as pleasant as that would be, I am physically unable to. It is a curse for the blessing of millions of others. When my eyes feel so heavy that my lower eyelids would peel off. Someone might need me. So I was created this way. But the fact is, I hadn't moved at all since Sandy left last night. One of the few fine things about being me is that you could remain immobile for days and never encounter cramps or pins and needles. I have nowhere I ever need to be.

And I fear that it always will be that way.

Birds fly past, flying through me. And I don't even flinch. I was too used that already. It's a painful truth, the fact that I was created to not exist. To walk the earth without ever truly being a part of it. Even with spirit standards. I remembered when just the thought of such a life would've made me the happiest girl on the planet. But today, the reality makes me cry. I repeatedly tell myself over and over, that I didn't mind. I didn't mind. Learned it, chanted it like a mantra. Yet it tears me apart more and more with the churning question why I didn't. Why? Because Manny had obviously chosen me because I've always been so good at being discarded, severed, and ignored. That was why.

And it haunts every second of my immortal life as to why that is.

All of a sudden, a string of golden dust tickles my nose. I sneeze and the golden string scatters. Sandy's pleased laughter instantly echoed through my mind. I don't look at him because then he would see the look of I-just-found-out-my-beloved-pet-is-dead on my face. I've been exhibiting the expression numerous times lately. Occasionally I like to think it's not as ugly as it is. So my only reaction is to rub my nose. I would also like to think I hadn't satisfied him with this action. 'Are you ready?'

I twitch my nose, and push my bangs out of my eyes. "Approximately."

Sandy holds out his hand, and finally I look at him. The unpleasant face I had been making for the past hour is gone. Thankfully. And on Sandy's face is a gentle smile. I smile back with a slightly more pleasant smile than last night, and I take his hand, climbing aboard his golden dust cloud. And just like that we fly off into the morning.

Almost in a blink of an eye, our surroundings morph from rolling green fields and flower covered hills to cold white tundras and towering mountains. Snowflakes fall, and dance gracefully through me. The first stop is the North Pole, where North and his workshop is located. Truth be told, this isn't my first time there. Naturally, to send its visual essence to children, I'd needed to pay my visits to the esteemed workshop. And it is always her policy to visit from a considerable distance because North's hideout is always her least favorite to be in. No matter where she is, whether on air or on the ground, somebody or something is just bound to go through me. Either it is the yeti, elves, flying toys, or elves riding the flying toys. I might be used to it, but one could only endure so much.

More and more mountains pass, snow-peaked and proud. My eyes remain fixed on white powder, but my mind is miles away. It always is. North's precariously perched hideout comes into full view before I can even blink. Blankets of white everywhere. Sandy steers the dust cloud expertly through the snow haze, entering the hideout's aerial entrance to where the Russian man's fireplace/indoor balcony was located. A smooth landing takes place just as North bounds from his office, laughing merrily in his booming voice. "Welcome back Sandy!"

The large man sweeps Sandy off the floor, planting a kiss on each of his cheeks before putting him back down. Sandy shakes his head, making slight chiming sounds. North attempted what I assume is supposed to be a pat on the back, but it fell more along the lines of violent smacking. Sandy stumbles forward with each contact, and I watch with no effort to help with anything. "Everything has been going great in my hideout! This year's Christmas will be a blast!" North spins around, and I absently move away before he can phase through my form. I continue this escapade of sidestepping and ducking until he finishes his small celebration.

It is almost practiced.

I overlook the claustrophobia-inducing humdrum of the mass-production stations below. Even after the decades of living, I have yet to comprehend how someone can cope with such a lifestyle. Humans tolerate this kind of lifestyle too. In big cities, crowded cities. Filled to the brim with activity and other people. I watch all their lives from a distance. Perhaps, from a certain fear. Not that I'd ever admit. Meanwhile, North begins to explain all sorts of ideas he would try for this year's Christmas, asking Sandy to hint them in the children's dreams. For me, his voice is in the background, far away and echoed. However, aside from conjuring his own sweet creations, Sandy has recently started taking requests from the other Guardians. He would come and visit the other Guardians and they would ask him to hint their ideas in the following night's dreams. It could be some info on where the Easter eggs might be hidden, or maybe just reminding the kids to floss. It is part of his daily routine now. Many things, noticeable or not, had changed since Pitch's assault. This is one of them.

From the bits and pieces I pick up from the men's conversation, North plans to give kids surprise gifts for certain good deeds or good behaviors they've done. Sandy took well to the idea, nodding his head with a smile. I do too, though I don't express it. The Guardians had amazing minds. North's hideout is proof of this. Filled with wonder and life. This makes me feel so sorry for myself. To have been raised the way I was. To be trapped that way for the rest of my existence. It feels like a big part of me had been robbed, before I even knew that I had it. And for the first time, I look deeper. My eyes snap into focus and the haze, the blur, that had come from a cracked skull is removed. And I realize there are so many things I missed here. The colorful lights. The toys. The hard working yeti, and the nearly useless elves. Everything buzzing with... Life. It was not business or ruckus. It is life and it is vibrant and thriving. All this time... Had I simply been pushing everything away? This thought struck something inside of me, and for the first time, it is pleasant. A certain elevation. And I like it.

A sudden whirl of cold air enters the room, bone-chilling and thin, stringing snowflakes in its icy gust. It is an opening act, and both Sandy and North knows what the main event is. And so do I. It is a familiar situation. A familiar sensation. Yet it is a situation and sensation that I avoid like a plague. Because each time I come across it, I am reminded of falling and suffocating, and I hear my skull crack and I smell the blood waft into my nostrils. I'm so full of fear. And occasionally I wonder if Pitch Black will find me someday. But today, Jack Frost swoops in, spinning about in the air before gliding downwards. During the entire time, I keep myself from turning around. But now, the winds are getting louder and I finally relent to my reflexes. He is heading straight for me. And I am a deer in the headlights. My throat is tight. I feel like a statue. He swoops right through me, and the force of his wind knocks me backwards against the railing.

I smell winter, and the elevation is gone. I just know I'm pulling another face because Sandy is laughing at me. North doesn't see it, and deep down I am relieved that he doesn't, so he arches an eyebrow. "What are you laughing at, Sandy?" He asks curiously.

Jack lands beside him. "You're not laughing at me are you?" The white haired boy gives a playful pout, and then leans casually onto his staff. Sandy shakes his head and waves it off. I straighten myself and push my bangs out of my face. Yet, I don't look at him. I don't look at anyone. "Well, good. I'm glad I caught you here. I had some ideas I wanna talk to you about."

Sandy makes a disheartened face, and lifts his hands up to shake in a clear 'no', and he conjures a figurine of himself flying to Bunny's warren, and then Tooth's palace. Busy. Jack furrows his brows and thoughtfully tilts his head to the side. "Well then I'll come with you, and tell you on the way." I tense up. If only I had more color to my face. Perhaps paling like a ghost would be more interesting. But my mouth is dry, and finally I look to Sandy with horror. It was such a terrible shame he didn't see it, because he nods in approval the second he hears it.

"If you are bored, you can always help me make toys here, comrade!" North offers merrily.

I watch, still in a tizzy, as Jack pulls a face. Between a frown and cringe. Or something like that. "Err, no thanks. Making stuff really isn't my thing. Unless you count snow days and snowballs. Besides, Phil's still mad at me." Without even giving North a chance to reply, he once again rises off the ground and swoops high into the ceiling. Sandy just shakes his head, smiling, and conjures his golden dust cloud around himself. But my body is numb and none of this processes properly in my mind. The sandman had well lifted off before I finally regain control of my legs. And much like a mindless zombie, I climb on too. "See you later, North!"

With a wave from Sandy's hand and a gesture of Jack's staff, we take off. North bids us a farewell that is loud enough to be heard through the thick winds. After I feel moisture return to my mouth, I finally resume my finger twitching. I am swallowing my spit, but Sandy relentlessly nudges me to look up. I nudge him back out of annoyance because I don't want to. Because I'm upset at him. But as usual, the merry sandman only laughs in amusement. Jack doesn't notice this. He is far too busy rambling on about his ideas for snow days. I am dying, craving, to spill my discomfort with having Jack along. It takes so much willpower. So much. Just to move my mouth and squeeze my voice out. But I successfully do it. "Why? Why did you invite him along?"

'Why not?' He smiles naively. I frown back in response.

"You know why."

'We all need to face our fears eventually.' His smile grows wider, and his eyes are warm. I have to look away. To the bitter, white cold. Because it suited my mood better. Despite my prides and inner demons, I know he's right. Dear God, he always is. It's one of the things I like, yet dislike about him at the same time.

"Doesn't mean I need to face it right now." He nudges me again and I remain faced away from him to hide a smile. And from the corner of my eyes, I catch sight of something black, dashing through the pure white blankets of the tundra. And then it could have been severe association, but I could swear that a cackle sounded from it as well.