A/N: We're skipping a week or two. Bunnymund and North were talking on December 6, now it's the 17th. Will go back in chapter 14 again. Sorry for the confusion, guys, but I wrote this out of order due to lack of ideas/inspiration at certain times.
End of chapter 9:
"Bunnymund," said North. "If you could do favor and tell other Guardians search is over. I must attend to Christmas."
Bunnymund frowned, but agreed nonetheless. He wanted to keep talking about it, but, it was Christmastime and this was Santa Claus. Bunnymund tapped his foot on the floor twice and down sprang a hole. He hopped into it and went off to find Toothiana.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
The nighttime air was cold and damp. Jack took in a breath and let it out in a puff of thin vapor, fascinated by the cloud that quickly disappeared. Without thinking, his hand snaked toward his staff and a pleasant jolt of frigidity shot through his body. Jack smiled to himself and blew out again, this time manipulating the steam to form a bunny. It was small, cute, and didn't last long.
Jack sighed. Small, cute, didn't last long- he wondered if that's what the "Easter Bunny" had been. Maybe it really was his imagination. But Jack remembered the heat of the tunnel and beauty of the flowers as if they had just happened. He bent down and sketched Bunnymund into the snow with his staff and stared for a long time. He'd been the first one. First contact.
"Where are you?" Jack asked his drawing. "Why'd you just come and then leave me? Threaten me? Can't you at least give me a- a little talking rabbit friend? Please?"
It didn't move. Jack scratched it away and stood up. The wind picked up and Jack jumped into the sky, sitting on his staff like a chair. As he soared higher and higher, the night became darker and the Moon was just a wisp in the sky. Jack looked at it, wishing he could go to the Moon. Maybe it was too far away for it to hear him.
Maybe it was too far away for it to hear him.
Of course! If he flew to the Moon, it would have to listen to him! With a newfound motivation, Jack jumped off and flew closer to the Moon at a mile a minute. He leapt off ice crystals and spun to go faster, faster, faster! Up, up, up! It was exhilarating. Jack could feel the heat dissolving into a cold wonderland. He took in a deep breath and- wait.
Jack gasped for air.
Nothing.
He choked on his own throat and stopped flying when the staff fell from his hand. It dropped with him at an increasing and deadly speed. He tried to breathe but could not, and although it didn't hurt or freeze his lungs, it was more uncomfortable than heat. He could not breathe, could not feel any oxygen, felt his body shake with effort.
Jack looked about frantically. Everything was a blur, buzzing by and too fast. He couldn't shout for help because he had no voice, and his staff wasn't anywhere he could see. They were both falling and their distance from each other became too much for him to bear. Jack blinked and water bubbled out of his eye from the wind's claws.
He tested the air again, finding the oxygen rather thin. He blinked again and didn't open his eyes.
Passed out, Jack fell down and down until his body was covered in ice. There was nothing he could do as he plummeted towards certain doom. No one could see the boy falling from the sky, and even if they could, they wouldn't believe their own eyes. That was why when a child looked and saw a shooting star, he didn't believe it was a person, and no one believed in Jack Frost.
Jack plopped into a huge pile of snow and his neck snapped. There was no more breath, no more magic, no more laughter or anything. His brown faded vest was frozen and had broken on impact. His heart did not beat. He was dead.