Very Long Author's Note (or apology, rather): Hey guys, I know I haven't been uploading as often as I told you guys I would, but I will work at trying to upload my chapters more regularly so it's easier for the both of us. I also apologize in advance if the quality of this chapter seems lesser than those that have been posted before it, because I'm writing this crammed in a crowded minivan with five other people on their way to an archery shoot that's at least four hours away from where I live, typing one-handed the majority of the time because of this Starbucks iced peppermint mocha, and it's very chaotic and distracting in here, believe you me. I have a reason for the delayed update though. In a fit of unjustifiable (well, maybe) and completely unnecessary (I think?) fit of paternal rage, my father took my laptop away for quote-on-quote, "giving him that same old 'I know everything' attitude that you can expect from a fifteen year old". : | And this fifteen year old was not very happy after said stereotypical statement, so this might not be the, eh… fluffiest chapter yet, if you know what I mean.

Aaanyways, I'd rather not bore you with my really crappy week so far. Which reminds me… just so you know, I'm not a government issued robot whose occupation is to monitor the peace of the fan fiction world (if they actually existed, that would be pretty cool, though). So I won't send you something like "unable to comply; do not reply to this message or surveillance units will be deployed to your current location". I imagine that would be just a tad bit scary to hear. That being said, don't think that I'm like an online counselor or anything, because I'm not a very social person in reality. Especially at parties. I. HATE. PARTIES. :| I've spoken into a microphone once in my life, and that was just yesterday at the Day of Silence convention they had at my school. And I cried. It was so embarrassing. Um, back to what I was saying, I don't mind if you guys have something totally irrelevant and random to say to me, so long as it doesn't threaten my wellbeing and my disliking for politics. : ) I'm openminded and nonjudgmental, so I think it'd be pretty cool to hear from you if something totally crazy just happened. Or if you want to suggest a chapter song. Because I love music, and I'm willing to try just about anything.

THE FOLLOWING THREE NOTES ARE EXTREMELY IMPORTANT.

1. Okay, so you know how in this oneshot (and in many others on fan fiction) Jack is a cutter? Well, when I first watched the movie, I thought to myself "I don't think he'd actually bring himself to do something like that-" and then I watched the scene where he lifts Baby Tooth and says "Sorry, I can only keep you cold." Yeah, do me a solid. Go to that scene, pause it, and look at his wrists. Oh. Merh. Gawd. I had no idea that he actually cut himself in the movie, that's freakin' unbelievable! I told my brother about it, and he said "Nu-uh, or it wouldn't have been a kids movie!" Well they concealed it enough for the kids not to notice, but oh my god, I totally did not see that coming. Y u no love immortal life Jack?! ... !EDIT^^;! So it turns out lotsa you people looked at that when I asked you to (which I thank you for, by the way) and took a look at his wrists for me. Um, turns out that they're most likely not cuts. :[ So whilst it might have looked that way to me, it turns out they're actually natural markings in his skin because, as noted from a fellow helpful reviewer, his skin is very dehydrated and certain parts on his skin appear redder because of this. :| Yeah, I'm not very good at explaining these sorta things, so uh... They're not cuts. But I still feel that how the animators placed them like that, so they could be seen, while he was in an emotional sort of low (and physically because he fell down through a crevice in the ice) could actually symbolize something... So yeah. On my Yolo list, Unintenionally cause fans to panic and prove you wrong because you weren't paying attention has now been crossed off. Well, at least I'm that much closer to Unintentionally cause friends to panic by saying one of your loved ones is dying when really they're just spending the night at the hospital, right? :D

2. I have a fan fiction idea that I've wanted to start for a while now, but I wanted to ask your guys' opinion (because you guys are too awesome for words) : I have the entire story set (but not written) out, and yes, there will be (oh no, I'm gonna say it!) OCs. (You: NUUU!) Hear me out before you skip over this section completely! Personally, I think that having your own characters in something is a pretty neat idea, so long as the character fit's a certain criteria. For example, I like it when OCs have interesting personalities, tragic backstories (for whatever reason…) and an acceptable sense of humor. They can't be perfect, because that just destroys the entire story and it's no longer special. And I also can't stand it when an OC is, um, a little too made for an original character. Then it's just weird. But hey, that's just my opinion, don't hunt me down and assassinate me for it :P So yah, it'll be approximately 22 chapters long, 5,000 words per chapter give or take, all of the original characters, and yes, two or three OCs that play an important part in the storyline. There will be more, but they will be used in one chapter and then forgotten the next, because no one loves those OCs and they deserve to be invisible :) I've had a pretty gnarly mean streak all week, it's getting pretty bad lately. If things go smoothly, though, this Oneshot collection thingy will contain oneshots of these three categories: Original characters only, Original and OCs, and Just OCs. The character names will be presented like they are below, so if you don't care for the OC related ones, just skip over them. This means that if you want just original characters, there will be no references or relations to the original characters in any way, otherwise it would be in Original and OCs. So everyone's happy. : ) Should I go for it?

3. THIS IS THE SECOND PART OF THREE FOR THE WHOLE "REPERCUSSIONS" THING. THAT BEING SAID, THE THIRD PART WILL NOT BE POSTED FOR AT LEAST 1-2 WEEKS OR SO. I'M SORRY, BUT I HAVE NO IDEA AS TO WHEN I WILL HAVE FREE TIME TO WORK ON IT, SO JUST BEAR WITH ME HERE AND SUBSCRIBE TO GET NOTIFIED OR SOMETHING. : ( SORRY GUYS, THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN LIFE HAPPENS. DOESN'T IT SUCK?

As usual, you guys are too awesome for words, and if I could possibly find out where each and every one of you lived and could go there to show my appreciation through crappy interpretive dance, then you know that I would! XD … :| Just, just kidding…I wouldn't really… just read, people.

Chapter Three: ~Pitch, all of the guardians, and Phil~ Forgetting the Repercussions Pt.2

Chapter Song: Leave Out all the Rest, by Linkin Park :D (if you listen to the chapter songs, you will probably cry :)

The last bit of strength and willpower that the winter spirit had left in him was beginning to fade, and it was fading rapidly. Jack could no longer determine who his opponent was or why they were doing this to him. He found it hard to focus on his surroundings as he was repetitively lifted up by the collar of his jacket and thrown down onto the lake - his lake! - causing the ice to crack a little more with every slam. He was much too dizzy to stand up on his own, so when his assaulter pulled him up and set him on his feet, he toppled backward once more, not even trying to keep his head from colliding with the ice once more. This only complicated matters, seeing that his vision was even blurrier and his ears were now ringing. He couldn't tell whether he was trembling or if he was back in the air again and being shaken around like a rag doll. Everything was moving too fast… or was it too slow? Every movement was hazy and unclear, every sound distant and too soft to make out… or was it too loud to understand? There was only one word that could fully describe him right now.

Helpless.

Helpless and hopeless. He had to glance up and see that there were no trees surrounding him to finally realize that none of this was reality and that this was all just a dream. Hell, he had to see his battered reflection in the ice to remember his own name, his own identity. Jack Frost. But when he got to thinking about it, completely ignoring the voice that was yelling at him from above - or was it the voice inside of his head? - he couldn't help but wonder, who was Jack Frost? This couldn't possibly be him. He couldn't have been a fearless, headstrong Guardian; he didn't feel like one right now, at least. He felt weak and unwanted, wondering why the Man in the Moon would even waste his energy resurrecting someone like him if all he was good at was freezing children to death and cutting without the consequence of death?

And then there was that voice, that eerily familiar voice that was constantly shouting at him, though he couldn't tell whether it was originating from his head or directly from his assaulter. But he heard a voice, an angry booming voice that was asking him questions. All sorts of questions! All questions that he didn't have the answers to. Did he?

"Why is there no fear!? What are you!?"

Lonely, he thought to himself as he was lifted up into the air again. Or was he in the air this entire time?

"Aren't you scared!?"

No.

"I am the Boogeyman! Why aren't you fighting back, Frost?! Your fate is in my hands - literally! Do you not fear death?! I can take your life!"

Pitch managed to look into Jack's unfocused eyes long enough to see a tear spilling over his cheek.

"No. You can't. I've already tried." he whimpered, the Nightmare King momentarily replacing his bloodthirsty scowl with a shocked expression. "And if you can," Jack chuckled sardonically. "Then do it already. What difference will it make?"

For a second, Pitch couldn't believe what he was was simply giving up, unable - or just not willing - to put up a fight anymore. He wasn't even going to try to defend himself. For the first few minutes, Pitch sensed that Jack was fear stricken, his limbs paralyzed and his heart racing faster than he ever thought possible. The words seemed to spill from Pitch naturally, knowing that it was what got to the boy. The trees presaged the nightmare, but by the time he was asleep, he was exhausted, sick of the taunts and the voices. He tried to fight before, for a moment or two, then he tried to ignore it. But Pitch slowly came to see that it was eating away at him. It tore him apart. And he ceased struggling, allowing them to overcome him, infect his mind, consume the remnants of his hope and curiosity… quite frankly, he was dead.

Not literally, mind you, but mentally. Jack had died, thus, not producing any fear for the Nightmare king to feed off of. Not producing any emotions, really. And, when Pitch gently placed him onto the ice, reassuring himself that the sickening crack that he'd heard was not the boy's head but the ice beneath him, he could sense them, the emotions that sometimes managed to reveal themselves. One of the downsides of being able to feed off of fear was that you became what you consumed, fortifying the saying "you are what you eat". He was the personification of fear, but felt weak when he came too close to young Jack. He felt the overwhelming urge to burst into tears and fall onto his knees, images flashing in his mind as they'd probably appeared to the winter spirit: a very angry Pooka glaring down upon him with an inaudible taunt escaping his lips, a brief image of bloody wrists, a reflection in the ice that was not of him, but a little girl…

Pitch couldn't take it; he couldn't risk being around him this long. The dark spirit stepped away from Jack, who was now curled into a ball and sobbing softly into his own arms, probably because no one would offer their own. Because he firmly believed that no one wanted him around…

And that's when it hit Pitch.

This was the bunny's fault.

Pitch put the images together in his mind. Okay, so it wasn't all the Pooka's fault, the guardians had a play in it, but he was a good majority of the problem. Pitch's pale hands shook nervously, taking a deep breath through his nostrils before kneeling next to the boy and placing his hand on his forehead. The memories shot through him like a bullet, and he recoiled, clutching his chest and trembling incessantly. Jack had begun to bawl loudly now, the memories now recalled and brought to the front of his mind, thanks to Pitch's snooping.

One of the worst things about being a dark spirit was that you were, no matter your personality or appearance, a cold and heartless being. You were automatically a frightening, ill-intending, heartless spirit that shouldn't even exist. And, yes, Pitch considered himself to be frightening. Ill-intending, maybe. Heartless, no. Never heartless. He had a heart, especially for this boy. When Pitch had told Jack that he knew how he felt, he wasn't lying. He felt his pain, his loneliness, his longing for a family and longing to be appreciated and wanted by others. The Nightmare King also wasn't lying to him when he said they would both rule. True, Jack had a good reason for not trusting him, but if he had, Pitch wouldn't have left Jack to be forgotten like he would have done to all of the other guardians. No, he just couldn't bring himself to do that. In fact, had he not been denied apprenticeship (rather rudely, if you asked him) by Jack, he didn't think that he could even bring himself to break his staff, his center. At the time, the awestruck pain written upon Jack's face fueled him with a sense of satisfaction and vengeance. But seeing what was there now… to be honest, it made Pitch want to comfort the boy, to kneel down next to him and draw him into a fatherly hug, to reassure him that they were just bad dreams. After all, that was all they were in the first place, and nothing more.

However, he couldn't bring himself to do this either. He was an evil spirit, and they didn't comfort.

But guardians did. In the end, he made a decision that personally he was proud of. He would get the bunny, make the bunny see the sadness. Things would follow through from there. He could only hope for fear, and no more sadness, no more silence. Jack's fear was the best, even if it was of the Easter Bunny, as ironic as it sounded.

"Why am I still waiting? Find boy and come back, is not hard," North grumbled to himself as he sat in front of the globe impatiently, slightly irritated at his furry companion for his ignorance of wasting precious time. Well, it was precious to North, anyway, and that's all that really mattered in this situation. The jolly Russian had always assumed that he considered all time "precious" because of Christmas; because of all the marvels and wonders that had to be made, all the toys to sort out and wrap, all the stockings to be stuffed with sour suckers and sugary sweets, although Tooth didn't really approve of the whole stocking bit. Nonetheless, it was around this time (a month or two before Christmas, sometimes even earlier) that he'd grow anxious, and until he could finally manage to reassure himself that he was prepared and that everything would run smoothly, he refused to relax. More than once did he instruct the yetis to check, double check, and check everything again to ensure that everything was just fine. If that didn't do the trick though, Tooth would temporarily cease her work and, with some of her fairies, help the yetis to prepare in any way they could. This seemed to ease North's mind quite a bit, which was what she was aiming to do. And then, on Christmas eve, his nervousness seemed to vanish completely, replaced with content, and… well, jolly.

He was always jolly on Christmas, and there were many reasons why - too many to count, even. But out of all the things there were to love about the holiday, there was one breathtaking thing in particular about Christmas that he loved. Just like the Guardian of Memories did, he loved seeing the children while they slept. For whatever reason, seeing the happiness upon their round rosy faces lit up his own, knowing that though they were restless with curiosity and wonder, they peacefully dreamt of what the next day would bring. And if someone - anyone - were to try to disturb that glistening spark of wonder, try smothering it with darkness and fear, he showed no hesitation. He would retaliate, drawing his machetes and charging at the offender with no fear, except for that of the frightened child's fate. This is what North didn't like to see on Christmas Eve: nightmares prying their way into the children's dreams and infecting them. It left their previously glowing, smiling faces fear stricken, void, or desolate. Some of them almost seemed lost, and… lonely. It tore North apart when he saw children like this, made him feel like he failed them, which only fueled his rage and his determination to bring the spark back. To be blunt, he hated seeing their faces because they appeared almost lifeless. And it scared him, chilled him to the bone.

This was probably the reason why, when he saw Jacks empty, pale face snuggled into the Pooka's chest as they came up from the workshops' floor, he shuddered and exclaimed, to no one specifically, "Man in Moon, have mercy! What happened?"

Bunnymund was panting heavily, holding a sleeping (and excessively muddy) Jack Frost in his shaking, furry arms with his long ears perked up fretfully. "No time to explain, mate, he's bleedin'." The bunny spat out.

"Bleeding!? Where? Where are the wounds?" North exclaimed boisterously, jumping up to his feet and joining Bunny. The Pooka could see now that the guardian of wonder was now in overprotective daddy mode. Unfortunately, so was he. "How did he get them? Was it Pitch? That fiend! I will end him!"

"Listento me, ya gumby! I'll tell ya what happened later! Which way's the infirmary?"

"Up the stairs, second door on left! Apply pressure to wounds, I'll fetch Phil!" And with that, the fearful guardian stormed off, shouting for Phil in Yetish at the top of his lungs.

Without hesitation, Bunny held the sound boy closer to him, hopping swiftly and carefully up to the room, despite his aching legs and hurting chest. The Pooka gently placed him upon one of the several crystal white beds and, after placing his staff against the bed, took his small wrists in one of his paws. As he pressed his other paw into the cuts, Jack stirred and gradually regained consciousness. "Ugh, my head… Bunny?" he drowsily mumbled, still somewhat sleeping, until the pain from his wrists began to intensify. "Hey, what're y- Ow! Dude, that really… really…" Jack was sitting up now, resuming the usual arguing that he usually did. Then, after he took in what was actually happening as well as recalling the events prior to falling asleep, he sharply pulled away.

"It's okay, Frostbite," Bunny tried to reassure in return, seeing the fear and surprise in Jack's wide eyes. "You're gonna be fine, mate, it's okay now…"

The expression upon Jack's face wasn't changing, and Bunny knew all too well what was going through the young boy's mind. Anger. Embarrassment. Surprise. Disbelief. Confusion. The Pooka had seen situations like this dozens of times before. From what he'd gathered, when children were caught in the act of cutting, they weren't really want to be around anybody, because the humiliation and confusion always ate away at them. They fled almost every time because they didn't know what else to do, much less how to feel about it. And, just as Aster expected, Jack leapt himself off the bed, grabbed the staff and ran for the window, just barely making it out as Bunny reached for him.

Jack was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. There was no way it was happening.

One moment he was on the ice of his lake, battered, bruised, and crying. He was cold, and it was dark. And lonely. He was so lonely. He was so lonely, and crying seemed the only way to make him feel better. Well, that, and… and then he felt himself being lifted up and held in someone's arms. Whosever they happened to be, they were warm and furry. Jack couldn't really see all that well, but when he noticed that it was Bunny, all he could do was let out a sarcastic comment about him being a kangaroo before the drowsiness overtook him.

Then he was crying again. He was back on the lake again, sobbing, cold, darkness, lonely… crying was the only way he could feel better; well, that and… speaking of which, he felt a strange tingling sensation upon his wrists and all over his calves and feet that made him slowly stir out of his dream. He was lying in a bed… so it all had to be a dream, right? That made him feel a bit better, it meant that Sandy…

And then he saw Bunny, and felt a sudden sense of resentment towards the keeper of dreams, because the last person he wanted in his dreams was this guy. Jack's head was pounding, and after briefly complaining about it to his enemy (who no doubt found it annoying and uncalled for, just like everything else he did) he came to realize that it wasn't the only thing hurting. His feet began to feel where he'd been pricked and scraped, but was nothing compared to his wrists. And as Jack regained a sort of ability to put piece and piece together, he saw why.

"Hey, what're y- Ow! Dude, that really… really…" he started to say, seeing what was happening before him. Bunny was looking down on him with green eyes - those damned green eyes that were always glaring at him! - but with compassion… almost sympathetic, or apologetic… and Jack saw that he was grabbing his wrists.

Not grabbing. Applying pressure.

To stop the bleeding.

His wrists.

He knew that his thoughts on the matter were written upon his face when he heard Bunny's words.

"It's okay, Frostbite,"

No it's not.

"You're gonna be fine, mate, it's okay now…"

No, no I'm not. This wasn't supposed to happen, this was never supposed to happen, ever.

Jack shot a quick, anxious glance around, the pulsing in his head growing stronger with every fearful thought he had.

They know. They all know now. And if they don't, soon they will. They'll be mad at me. No, they'll laugh at me. Bunny will yell at me. Or he'll threaten me. Or worse.

I have to get out of here.

That last thought drove him over the edge. Despite the Pooka's reassuring words, Jack wasted no time jumping from the bed, grabbing his staff, and leaping out the window. The wind came just in time, setting his shaking feet upon the ground as gently as it could muster. It tried to soothe him, though his thoughts were so rapid nothing really got through to him at this point.

"Wind! Take me somewhere! Anywhere!" he shouted with a hoarse voice and he began running full speed forward. He didn't know where he was going at this point.

Don't worry. Neither did the wind, therefore it decided that it wouldn't lift him up and take him away from the help that came sprinting toward him. Jack realized this when he felt the snowy breeze of the North Pole die out, and he felt a surge of both fear and adrenaline shoot through him. This only made him run faster. After all, the only word that would make sense in his jumbled head as of right now was run.

But his running, though it was faster than he ever thought possible, was no match for Bunnymund's, since he jumped in front of him in a matter of seconds.

The words weren't even his. They just came spilling out, an instant and unstoppable reaction. "Go away! Get away from me!" Jack shouted, unbeknownst to himself what exactly was coming out of his mouth. Now, there was only one word going through his mind. Panic. You're screwed. Panicpanicpanic.

Jack raised his staff, prepared to shoot the Easter Bunny with a ray of ice, before suddenly he felt tired again. His eyelids felt heavy, heavier now, and his knees eventually came to give out beneath him. He was caught by the same two furry arms that caught him not a day ago (which had to be some sort of record for him), and now the thoughts running through his mind were put more at ease by an outside force.

Run! Run! He's right there! No, sleep… if you're tired, just sleep, it will be fine… No, no! I'll have nightmares! No you won't…I'll give you good dreams, Jack. Just sleep…

And he was dreaming again. He was flying, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, dozens of kids waving from him as he passed by, accompanied by glistening golden dolphins made of dreamsand. The dolphin's were always his favorite.

"Thank's mate," Bunny said to Sandman as the little man slowly floated beside him. A small, formal cap shaped from dreamsand appeared over his head and Sandy tipped it towards his furry friend. Then, with a small nod of his head, he gestured toward Jack, a symbol of a sad face appearing over his head as if asking what the boy's mood was.

"Well, he isn't really in the best shape, mate, uh… Ya think ya can get him back at the pole's infirmary for me? M'legs are sorta tired after chasin' after the lil anklebiter around the first time."

Sandy nodded vigorously, before shooting another questioning glance at the boy and writing out, above his head, In the best shape? :(

"It's-it's pretty complicated, actually. I still hafta tell North exactly what happened… speakin' of which, he's probly in the room wonderin' where the heck we ran off to. Do me a solid mate?" Sandy nodded once more, and a floor of dreamsand appeared under the Bunny's large feet.

Jack was put back in the bed, his wounds cleansed, his wrists wrapped, and his dreams constantly monitored by Sandy. North called Tooth to the Pole, and when everyone arrived, Bunny explained to them what happened and what he saw. Afterwards, North was silent. Sandy looked sullen, pretty ashamed of himself for not being there to get rid of the nightmares in the woods. Tooth was crying at this point, ashamed for herself as well for not being there to protect him.

But Bunny was awestruck.

He never could see Jack harming himself, much less trying to take his own life. But he felt, out of all the Guardians, the worst. After all, he was sure that he was the cause of it. And he still didn't apologize.

Which was why, when Phil informed them that Jack was awake, Bunny was the first one in the room, telling the others to give him a few minutes alone before coming in to check on them. They seemed to understand (they were well aware of Bunny's previous attitude towards Jack) and granted him twenty minutes. "Then I'm going in there and holding him, no matter what!" Tooth interjected just before he entered the door.

Jack looked lifeless. His face was pale and tearstained, the moonlight reflecting the silent tears that slowly fell from his eyes. He was staring at the ceiling, blue bags hanging under his eyes as well as his greasy white hair. Tooth had come in prior to him waking up and washed his face of all the mud and tearstains. Aside from the mud, most of her work was erased. He was sitting up, resting against a chair of pillows and holding his hands as if he was praying - no, as if he were a child that just got caught doing something he knew he shouldn't have been, and was bracing himself to be reprimanded. He looked horrible, and didn't notice when the Bunny gently closed the door behind him and came towards the bed.

Jack's attention switched from the ceiling to the intruder, and he shot him and angry and confused look.

"What do you want?" he asked.

Author's note: Dun Dun Duuun! Okay not really, but hear me out! I know that I promised fluffies but I just can't seem to make depressing things short. : ( Sorry. I really am. So next chapter, that is all there will be. There will only be fluff, I swear to you! Fluff, everywhere! But for now, we're left with this for probably another week (or two, depending on where I live next). Sorry, my life's been uber hectic and I have no idea where I'm going until I'm there. So for now, all I can say is that there will be fluff, but there will be waiting as well. (you: we want our fluffy, and we want it NOW!) D,: So sorry, guys, I hope that an extra long chapter of hugs and snuggles and all that happy jazz will allow you to forgive me. : ( I lub you guys (hides from pitchforks and torches)

Haven't edited this chapter yet. Please notify me of typos and I'll fix them, but odds are I can't edit this until I post the next chapter. :/ so yeah. Baibai :D

969~696