scarecrowqueen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scarecrowqueen) wrote2013-12-11 10:05 pm
scarecrowqueen) wrote2013-12-11 10:05 pm
Entry tags:
Walk the Long Road Chapter 3: "The Perplexing Quarry, Part II"
Title: Walk the Long Road Chapter 3: "The Perplexing Quarry, Part II"
Rating: T
Pairings: Pre-Jack/Bunny
Warning: Violence, Character death
Word Count:5276
Disclaimer: I don't own them. It makes me sad
Summary: Somewhere, running alongside and parallel to every known universe, exists a Road. This Road is long, and fraught with peril. At the end of the Road is the Oracle; who is capable of all things, including granting Jack Frost a single wish, should Jack is strong enough, brave enough, and clever enough to succeed.
Even immortals can die; luckily, they don't have to stay that way. With Bunny gone and the clock ticking, Jack knows that failure is not an option.
We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.
- Kenji Miyazawa
Any other day, Jack would have long since launched himself into the fray. Beaten and bloodied as he was at the moment however, that wasn’t exactly an option. Instead, Jack watched, perched on top of the highest point around, and leaning heavily onto his staff to stay upright. It was difficult to calm himself, to tell himself that Baby and Noddwyn were okay, and would be okay for the next few minutes, and that the best way to help was by thinking up and executing a flawless plan, but he did it anyway. Jack hated the waiting, the anxiety, the anticipation, but it was his headstrong foolish pride that had gotten them into this mess in the first place. If Jack had been paying better attention, Bunny would never have had too... Jack shook his head, moaning and clenching his eyes shut when the motion made the world take a slow, lazy spin around him. Looks like a concussion could be added to the list of injuries he was currently struggling with. Returning his attention to the fight before him, Jack forced his muddled thoughts to calm as best he could past the pounding ache in his temples. The Rockmonster was large as a house sure, and his limbs could move as quick as a whip once they got momentum, but he was slow to re-orient every time Baby changed direction. He was in essence clumsy; if one could stay moving for long enough, it’d never manage to hit you. Move as slowly and inattentively as Jack had been earlier, and you were a sitting duck. Unfortunately, that little observation didn’t help Jack, who was too injured to move that fast, even with the wind helping him. He’d need a way to halt the thing in its tracks and make a quick getaway. Maybe if he froze the legs to the ground... No, they were too strong and too heavy for that to work. He’d have to freeze the whole creature solid, and he didn’t trust his ice to hold out that long, not when he was working in such a weakened condition. Perhaps they could take it out a rock at a time? Deconstruct the thing down to the individual boulders, and hope it stayed that way. That idea was no sooner thought then thwarted when, with a rumbling roar, the monster called nearby standing rocks into motion. As if they too lived, four rocks rolled closer to the action, and the whirling arms lowered just long enough to ‘collect’ the new additions, lengthening each limb by another couple feet. It still didn’t allow the monster to hit Baby, but the extended reach meant that she was working harder to evade being hit. No, taking it apart wouldn’t work, not when it could so easily put itself back together again.
The answer came so suddenly that Jack groaned at his own stupidity, knocking his head against his staff in frustration, and then hissing at the sharp stab of pain in his skull. Oh yeah, head wound, no wonder he was slower than a herd of turtles stampeding uphill through molasses in January right now. Well, he had a plan that would work at least, assuming he could get the necessary burst of speed required. Jack snuck his way as carefully as a flying teenager could around in a circle until he was perched on the lower rocks, behind the creature and as close as he could get to Noddwyn, who was mostly being ignored in favour of the annoyance that Baby was making of herself. Jack hissed down to the Rockling, catching his attention and making a few broad gestures, hoping he understood. Noddwyn paused, then nodded, stepping back to give Jack room to work. With a grim smile, Jack leaned forward, and carefully iced the entire ground surface in the clearing between the canyon’s cavernous walls. Baby must’ve caught sight of him and figured it out, for suddenly she was chirping with renewed determination and flying a bit further out, coaxing the lumbering giant into taking a single step onto the suddenly-treacherous surface.
Well, lookie that, the bigger they are, the harder they certainly do fall! Jack couldn’t stop from crowing in victory, ignoring the way the loud burst of sound seemed to rattle around inside his head, setting of bright starbursts of pain in its wake. The Rockmonster hits the ground a with crash so incredible both ice and stone buckle beneath it, one entire arm disconnecting to flop and roll harmlessly across the ice in the wrong direction. Sunk almost halfway into the stony ground and down a limb, the creature struggles to right itself. But, like a turtle stranded on its back, it lacks the coordination necessary to do so. Jack Jumps down, scooping up Noddwyn in his free hand. He takes a quick second to ice the creature further, pinning its arms and legs to the ground like a frozen statue. It won’t hold for long, but Jack intends to be far, far away by the time it figures out how to get back to its feet. Jack then ices a path away, through a narrow ravine and slightly downhill, skating along as fast as possible. Baby is right over his head the whole way, cheeping directions for the best route using her overhead view, to keep him from any dead ends. As they had discovered over their time traversing this landscape, the rock piles and steep canyon walls formed a veritable maze, and now was not the time to be getting lost. Jack’s head was swimming; dizzy with pain and loss of blood, he hurt everywhere. He wanted nothing more to stop until the everything decided to stand still again, but in the far distance he heard the racket of the creature’s continued struggles, and realized he couldn’t stop as long as there was a possibly of it getting back to its feet. Another burst of panicked adrenaline allowed him to stay upright and keep moving; he was here with his friends and they were unharmed, but that could change any moment if he didn’t put more distance between them and the angry thing behind them. Jack carried on, top speed, even when both Baby began to twitter that they were safe, that they could slow down. Noddwyn joined in soon too, making a low grinding noise that Jack guessed was displeasure. He didn’t slow down though; he couldn’t fathom ever slowing down, and he didn’t care if this was cheating. The Road and its rules could go hang for a minute, until Jack had got his friends to safety. He might’ve loved Bunny above all others, but he wasn’t about to trade any of his friends for another, he didn’t work like that. They’d come so close, his moment of inattention costing them dearly. If he hadn’t had let go, if he hadn’t have forgotten his mission, forgotten BUNNY, if he’d ignored his selfish, base desire to HAVE FUN...
Jack tripped over a rock he’d missed, sprawling face-first onto the ice and dirt, which made his body light up once again in an agony so great he couldn’t choke down his hoarse, raw cry. Noddwyn chattered from beneath him, clambering out from under Jack’s broken body to poke gently at his face. He seemed to be inspecting Jack’s injuries based on his unhappy grinding and the slow exploration of every bit of Jack that hurt. Adrenaline and purpose fading, Jack found himself utterly wrecked and unable to move beyond a weak shuffling in the dirt. He quickly found himself forced to submit to Noddwyn and Baby’s attentions, the former grinding away and the latter clucking in worry and disapproval. Jack felt his eyelids being to droop, but he couldn’t rest, not here, not yet. He didn’t appear to have a choice though being so utterly drained. Slowly, slowly he slipped into blackness, two small, gentle pairs of hands soothing him the whole way.
“Watch out, Sandy!” Jack hollers, ducking under a flailing sharp-edged weapon. Sandy does the same, giving Jack a quick thank-you grin. The creatures they were fighting had three legs, but only one long, pendulous arm with which to attack. Unfortunately, despite that they were eerily talented at swinging the long, scythe-like weapons they favored. Tooth had already lost some plumage to them, and North had suffered a giant slice through his favorite coat. Not like that would stop the Guardians from fighting them or anything, but it had been made abundantly clear to all of them that the stakes were high. Jack swung his staff again, sending another flare of frost into an advancing quartet of big, mean and ugly’s. His time with the Guardians had honed his fighting skills, and his newfound belief base had given him extra oomph to back it up. He hit harder, faster and better than ever before; and combined with the teamwork of the rest of his friends it showed. The enemy was falling in droves, bodies melting into a sticky, oozing muck at the moment of death. They had them pinned down and on the run, and it was only a matter of time before the Guardians were victorious. That was when things went wrong.
Jack could already taste their victory, feel it singing in his veins. Looking back, he knows it made him sloppy, made him cocky. Jack knocks down the last of the enemy, and turns to find Bunny, a smile on his lips, but he was wrong; there was one more, one fallen but not dead, who then lunges up in a desperate, last ditch effort. Jack feels only the pressure of Bunny’s paws on his shoulders, shoving him down into the ichors and mud before the weight of the Pooka’s body is collapsed above his own. Jack can hear the others still fighting in the distance, but only has eyes for both the enemy; who has collapsed in true death now, boomerang embedded in its rapidly disintegrating skull, and Bunny. Bunny who is still sprawled unmoving on Jack’s chest and bleeding profusely; too much wet warmth seeping from his gut onto Jack’s prone form. Bunny who was hit from behind so hard at a sweeping, horizontal angle that he has been nearly bisected by the blow; the blade only stopping when it lodged tight into the bone of the hip opposite where it entered. Above him Bunny groans in pain; the sound wet and gurgling with the blood filling his friend’s lungs, and it is all Jack can do to suppress his rapidly rising hysteria. As carefully as possible, Jack manoeuvres his friend onto his back, snapping the blade off the handle to do so, knowing that removing it entirely will only make the blood flow harder, faster. It’s all an exercise in futility though; for all they are immortal and difficult to so much as injure, a wound like this cannot be survived, not for all the healing or belief in the world. There are no miracles for beings like them, and no gods that they can pray to for mercy; Jack knows this well, for it was Bunny who taught him. For only a second, Jack and Bunny’s eyes meet, and Jack see’s the truth there, see’s the acceptance of what is to come and it drives him cold and icy inside in a way he’s never felt before. The finality of it all hits Jack like he’s the one bleeding out on the filthy ground, and Jack blinks hard to hide the tears. Instead, Jack smiles for his best friend for the last time, reaching to take his hand.
Twice, Jack feels himself trying to surface, but each time, opening his eyes and moving his limbs makes him feel like he’s treading water in Jello. Each time though, he knows he’s not alone, and can hear both Baby and Noddwyn beside him, caring for him. He hates that he’s making them worry, hates that he’s too weak to even wake up properly, hates that he’s the weak link holding them back. Without him being stupidly distracted, he’d have avoided being surprise-attacked, meaning he wouldn’t have been injured, meaning they’d still be moving and not camped out here, waiting for Jack to pull himself back together. Jack drifts in an out, never quite fully cognizant of his surroundings, but aware enough that the anger festers, grows. Jack’s been a hooligan most of his life; running rampant without authority or responsibility. It’d taken him some time to learn to work with the other Guardians; to adhere to a routine and hold himself accountable for his own actions, but finally succeeding had opened him up to the greatest friendships he knew he’d ever have, including Bunny. Bunny, who Jack had in a moment of mirth allowed himself to forget. Jack had a mission, a purpose here; this wasn’t a pleasure cruise and Jack would not, could not be allowed to forget again
Failure was not acceptable.
It took some doing, but Jack finally dragged himself back into the world of the living. He’d been moved, or rather, flipped from his stomach to his back, and he couldn’t help the flash of guilt that slid through him at the thought of what his significantly smaller friends would have gone through to do so. His cloak had been tucked around him, like a blanket, which Jack didn’t actually require being immune to the cold, but the gesture didn’t fail to make him humble with the love that the others had shown him. They’d obviously tended him as he slept as best they could, considering the limitations of both their size and the resources available to them. The moment his eyes were open, and stayed open, Jack was mobbed by two tiny bodies, both of them curling up on opposite sides of his face and snuggling him with relief. Or, not as tiny, as Baby had grown significantly in the time he’d slept. She was now more than half the size of Noddwyn. The Rockling himself didn’t look to have changed physically; but when he snuggled himself against the side of Jack face and began to rumble in contentment, Jack realized that his small body was warm to the touch. Before, Noddwyn had been the ambient temperature any other rock would be; now, although still as stony as ever, the creature was as warm against Jack’s skin as Baby. Add that to his increasing vocalizations and Jack realized, with a dawning sense of horror, that whatever was changing Baby was likely acting on his new friend, too. The thought that this place was acting on his loved ones in some inescapable and unknown way terrified Jack to his very core. Filled with renewed determination, Jack sat up, ignoring both Baby’s alarmed cheeping and the twinge in his back. Jack did a hasty check of his ribs, which seemed to be mostly healed, if a bit tender. His head wound checked out the same, and his feet were intact again, although the former hoodie sleeves turned bandages were unsalvageable. It was his back that concerned him the most; even a shattered spine should have regenerated by now, why after all this time, did he continue to ache?
“How long was I out?” Jack asked, pushing himself to his feet, sweeping his staff up in one hand and Noddwyn in the other. Baby was already airborne and twittering away, trying to convince Jack to lay down, for a bit longer. He waved her off, repeating his question again until she relented and confirmed what he’d been suspecting; he’d been out of commission for an estimated two days. Jack felt the scowl settle onto his features, beyond furious at his own weakness. Two days, completely lost. Two days that Bunny had remained grave-bound and waiting. Two days was far too long. Jack was so far into his self-castigation, he nearly lost an eye as he went to move forward only to be met by the impenetrable force that was Baby. Frowning harder, Jack made to gently bat the fairy away.
“Geeze Baby, lighten up! Look, we’ve lost too much time; we need to get going if we want to...”
‘To what, Jack, rush headlong toward your death?’
Jack blinked at the little fairy, moth open comically, temporarily stunned into a stupor. In the crook of his left arm, Noddwyn made a series of small clicking noises that Jack suspected was laughter. Probably laughter at him, if he at all cared to hazard a guess.
“Baby, since when do you speak?” Baby’s voice was as high-pitched and thin as the birdlike noises she’d made before, that Jack had always been able to understand. Speaking actual words though, she sounded exactly like Jack always thought she would; somewhere halfway between a child and something older, something that gave her ethereal voice a layer of magic and wisdom.
‘Since long before you cared enough to listen, Jack Frost!’ Baby was angry, Jack could tell without even hearing it in her voice; her feathers were ruffled and her tiny face was set and grim. ‘You would have died, Jack. Died and left us here like Bunny did.’ Jack felt the weight of that right in the heart of him, like a sucker punch to the midsection.
“It wasn’t Bunny’s fault! He didn’t choose to die!” Jack felt the rage flare, incandescent in his chest, but Baby kept going, ignorant of his helpless anger, Noddwyn nodding away in agreement in Jack’s arms.
‘Bunny chose to fight, as he always did, knowing what the price of failure is. He chose to stand by you, his kin, his friend, to lay down his life in protection of yours, the way any of our own would. You choose to be reckless! You choose to forget, to throw yourself away foolishly!’
“I CAN’T FORGET!” Jack yells the words, the scream torn from his with such force that Baby falls silent and Noddwyn halts, shocked. “I can’t forget.” Jack murmurs, quieter. “How could I, Baby? When he died for me? How could I ever? I came here for him, but then, that rock thing was all over you two, and I couldn’t stop moving until I was sure, perfectly sure, that you would be okay. Baby, I can’t... I mean, what else could I do, Baby? I couldn’t lose you, either of you, too.” The world seemed unnaturally, utterly still in the wake of his words, with not even a breeze to break the tension. Then, with a tense cry, Baby barrelled into Jack’s chest, curling up in the fabric of his bloodstained hoodie, pressed between both Jack and Noddwyn, drawing comfort. Jack wrapped his arms around both, hugging his friends close, and wondering when the cold tears had begun to wet his cheeks. He wanted to tell them both that he loved them, that he missed Bunny, that he was angry at the other for leaving and angry with himself for not having fixed it yet, that his back still hurt, that Baby and Noddwyn were irrevocably altered and he didn’t know why and it scared him, but the words would not come. The only thing that would was the tears; a sweet purge, one he’d denied himself so long. Sinking to his knees on the rough ground, Jack rocked his friends back and forth, holding them close while he let himself go.
“You should still be resting.” Jack paused, halfway out the window. It had been great at first; they’d defeated Pitch, Jack had taken the Guardian vows, and they’d flown the sleigh to the Pole to celebrate. The festivities hadn’t lasted long though, before each one found themselves slipping away to rest. There was a lot of work left yet; they teeth had to be retrieved and returned, and the Warren had to be cleaned and repaired. They’d all agreed to tackle the aforementioned tasks tomorrow, but what was left of tonight was for resting and recovering their energies. It had been a long few days, especially for the others having experienced an almost cataclysmic loss of faith. Jack himself could certainly use a nights rest, he was still hurting from being chucked around like a ragdoll by the Nightmare King, and something deep inside was still smarting, even after having fixed his staff. He’d smiled and accepted North’s hospitality when the man had offered his friends the use of various guest suites for the night, but he’d given up on actually sleeping after about five minutes. It had been three centuries since Jack had been indoors this long, and just as long since’ he’d slept somewhere that was an actual bed, and not a snow bank or tree branch. Truth be told, Jack was far outside his comfort zone and chafing for the wide open sky. So, he’d made to bail, silently, hoping to return in time for breakfast so as not to offend his host. These new friendships were fragile; he didn’t want to ruin them over something as stupid as his own ridiculous hang-ups. He’d thought he’d been pretty sneaky, carefully slipping out his door and down the hall to the window he’d sat in after Sandy had died. He’d rather have just snuck out straight from his room, but the window in there didn’t open. This other one though had appeared to have a functional latch and hinges, so escape was a possibility at least. If this idea had failed, he’d probably have to lurk about until he found the front door, and that had too high a probability of being caught by one of the Yetis for his liking. Of course, he’d neglected to factor better-than-average giant lagomorph hearing into the equation. Jack cursed softly under his breath, unimpressed with his totally amateur mistake. Reluctantly he turned to face Bunny, plastering an ingratiating smile on his face for good effect.
“Bunny! Fancy seeing you here, figured you’d be dead to the world by now.” Jack’s smile felt brittle and he found himself silently squaring his shoulders against the certain accusation. Instead of raising his voice, as Jack had expected, Bunny wandered over and casually ushered him out of the window, closing and latching it to keep out the biting cold. Jack wanted to fight back, waited to be given a reason to, but Bunny just settled himself onto the window seat, gesturing Jack to do the same. Jack relented, perching on the very edge, leaving as much space between him and Bunny as possible, uncomfortable with the thought of sitting any closer. Bunny, if he noticed, didn’t appear to care. In fact he didn’t even look directly at Jack, as if knowing too much direct attention right now would be enough to make the other bolt.
“I don’t sleep very well indoors like this; too much wood and metal, not enough dirt and roots.” Bunny speaks casually, as if discussing something innocuous like the weather. It’s at odds with the way Jack is used to him speaking, which isn’t unusual considering Bunny was usually yelling at Jack about something or another.
“And, you’re telling me this why now?” Jack couldn’t stop the sarcasm from creeping into his tone. To his credit, Bunny didn’t even seem to be surprised.
“Nick knows to give me a room with a big window, it helps. Big window’s in this place means a balcony’s attached; means fresh air, a bit of the outdoors right at hand. If he wasn’t so done in, he’d probably have thought to do the same for you.” Jack wanted to sneer, but there was something funny slowly tightening in his chest at Bunny’s words. “If you wanted,” the other male continued, “you could come and sleep there. It’s obvious the cold and wind won’t bug yah, if you felt like being under the sky and all.” Jack couldn’t breathe, couldn’t make a sound, afraid that only and embarrassing keening noise might come out f he tried. He wanted to accept, did he ever, but he also wanted to refuse on general principle, because who did the rabbit think he was, showing up here and knowing exactly what Jack needed, anyways? Bunny must’ve taken his stunned silence in the negative, because he’d risen and moved to leave, without so much as a muttered farewell. Jack couldn’t blame him, knowing it was ruder than even sneaking out to not have even thanked Bunny for the offer, but his throat was still in knots. Instead, Jack hurried to Bunny’s side, following the other back to his room, and out onto the proffered balcony.
“Try and rest, alright kiddo? You had a few knocks today, and even the boost from your believers won’t be good enough ta fix you up ‘til you’ve had a proper night’s sleep.”
Jack nodded blindly, suddenly feeling far more tired than he had even fifteen minutes previous, as if the promise of a safe place to crash had set a spell of slumber over him. He allowed the other to let him out, but Bunny had to latch the window behind him to keep it closed and the room warm enough for him. It didn’t even occur to Jack until he’d had a good, long sleep curled in a soft pile of snow to be mistrustful or wary that Bunny wouldn’t let him back in. He’d hesitated a moment then, before knocking, wondering if this was where everything would fall apart, but he didn’t have time to dwell because Bunny beat him to the knock, opening the door with a look so satisfied that Jack didn’t fully understand it.
They set out on their trek again once the tears are exhausted. Jack doesn’t think he has it in him to disappoint Baby a second time, so they do so at a normal, standard pace. Jack had planned to see how far he could push his luck with skating, but as Baby had ever-so helpfully pointed out, it could be considered cheating and it was a wasteful use of his powers. Jack didn’t have the support of his believers out here, and while he wasn’t suffering any negative physiological effects like the other Guardians had during the last fight with Pitch, he also wasn’t a fraction as strong as he’d grown used to, as evidenced by his earlier collapse. He’d argued half-heartedly, but had given up when Noddwyn had joined in, body grating and vibrating in Jack’s arms in a way that was clearly disapproving. In deference to Baby’s concern, Jack had allowed her to check him over again, head to toe. He’d even swallowed his pride and admitted to the continued pain in his back. As expected, both Baby and Noddwyn had thoroughly inspected every inch of Jack’s spine, but other than a bit of swelling and persistent bruising between his shoulder blades, they hadn’t found anything. Choking down his unease, Jack had forced a smile and tucked Noddwyn up onto his shoulder, as before. Baby had declined the ride however, choosing instead to fly and help keep a lookout. Jack couldn’t say for sure, and he didn’t want to upset Baby by asking, but he figured that she was probably feeling guilty about her own distraction allowing Jack to be injured. Knowing it was the best way to handle the situation, he accepted her aid for the apology it was and said no more on it. It was less than half a day later, by Jack’s crude estimation, that the rocks began to shrink, and more and more sand began to take up residence under Jack’s feet. Jack felt a thrill of fear shoot through him as he realized what was happening. Praying to any deity that might listen, Jack hoped beyond hope that he was wrong.
He wasn’t.
Only a short time later, the rocks disappeared completely, giving way to a wide expanse of sand dunes as far as the eyes could see. Jack and his friends had just walked themselves straight into a desert, with nary an end to be found.
“You alright there, snowflake?” Jack jumped, startled to hear Bunny’s voice to close behind him. He’d been distracted, back turned toward the door as he huddled in a corner of the garden, rubbing a rapidly melting snowball all over his face in an attempt to cool down.
“Bunny! Give a guy a heart attack why don’t you!” Jack grinned as carelessly as he could manage trying to hide the snowball behind his back, but Bunny’s serious expression and lack of laughter told him that he’d been caught out. “I was just on my way in... Did you need something?” Jack asked, trying to play it as casual as possible.
“You could start by telling me you’re alright.” Bunny’s hands had moved to his hips, and he had his ‘serious business’ face on. Jack offered the other the most reassuring smile he had.
“I’m fine!” Jack chirped, but Bunny wasn’t letting it slide.
“Honestly mate, if the heat is getting to yah, we can vamoose, no feelings hurt.” Jack shook his head, ruefully.
“No Bunny, its fine. I’m fine promise. It’s hot, yes, and I needed a bit of a breather, but it’s also humid.” Jack summoned another snowball from the moisture in the air and nibbled at it to help wet his dry throat, crunching the icy bits for good effect. “As long as there is some moisture in the air, I’ll be fine. I can keep myself cool by frosting my skin and letting it melt, kind of like humans sweat. It’s dry heat that’s dangerous. Desert’s are kind of a no-go, for that reason.” Jack laughed lightly and Bunny seemed satisfied, slowly allowing himself to relax.
“Y’know kiddo, the arctic tundra’s a desert, too.” Jack barked a laugh, rolling his eyes.
“Only based on average precipitation levels! There’s tons of ambient water in the snow that’s sort of permanently EVERYWHERE! Also, it’s cold, so even if it was in fact bone dry, there’d be no issue.” Bunny chuckled at Jack, pleased as he always was whenever Jack said something that proved him to be clever, and ‘not just a hat-rack,’ as the Pooka was fond of saying. For that reason alone, Jack had taken to sitting in on university lectures and skimming the reference sections of every library he could find. Jack was no dummy; he’d just not been very well read, before Bunny had encouraged him otherwise. Now, finding himself saying things like ‘average precipitation levels’ wasn’t unheard of. It made Jack feel... better, about himself, more confident, knowing that he wasn’t the total moron a lot of spirits had assumed he was based solely on his happy-go-lucky attitude. Apparently, some people thought that smart and playful couldn’t co-exist. Jack pitied them; he figured that since they fancied themselves so smart, they must’ve all been very boring people. More importantly then their opinions though, was what the Guardians thought. Although Jack had never told anyone, he could admit that it made him feel fantastic, having the knowledge that all the Guardians, especially Bunny, trusted him to hold his own intellectually, not just physically. Sometimes, Jack swore that they’re belief in him did more to nurture and encourage him than the belief of a thousand children ever could, and it was Jack’s intent to never give them reason to stop.
“Whither will my path yet lead me? This path is stupid, it goes in spirals, perhaps in circles, but whichever way it goes, I will follow it.”
― Hermann Hesse
Rating: T
Pairings: Pre-Jack/Bunny
Warning: Violence, Character death
Word Count:5276
Disclaimer: I don't own them. It makes me sad
Summary: Somewhere, running alongside and parallel to every known universe, exists a Road. This Road is long, and fraught with peril. At the end of the Road is the Oracle; who is capable of all things, including granting Jack Frost a single wish, should Jack is strong enough, brave enough, and clever enough to succeed.
Even immortals can die; luckily, they don't have to stay that way. With Bunny gone and the clock ticking, Jack knows that failure is not an option.
We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.
- Kenji Miyazawa
Any other day, Jack would have long since launched himself into the fray. Beaten and bloodied as he was at the moment however, that wasn’t exactly an option. Instead, Jack watched, perched on top of the highest point around, and leaning heavily onto his staff to stay upright. It was difficult to calm himself, to tell himself that Baby and Noddwyn were okay, and would be okay for the next few minutes, and that the best way to help was by thinking up and executing a flawless plan, but he did it anyway. Jack hated the waiting, the anxiety, the anticipation, but it was his headstrong foolish pride that had gotten them into this mess in the first place. If Jack had been paying better attention, Bunny would never have had too... Jack shook his head, moaning and clenching his eyes shut when the motion made the world take a slow, lazy spin around him. Looks like a concussion could be added to the list of injuries he was currently struggling with. Returning his attention to the fight before him, Jack forced his muddled thoughts to calm as best he could past the pounding ache in his temples. The Rockmonster was large as a house sure, and his limbs could move as quick as a whip once they got momentum, but he was slow to re-orient every time Baby changed direction. He was in essence clumsy; if one could stay moving for long enough, it’d never manage to hit you. Move as slowly and inattentively as Jack had been earlier, and you were a sitting duck. Unfortunately, that little observation didn’t help Jack, who was too injured to move that fast, even with the wind helping him. He’d need a way to halt the thing in its tracks and make a quick getaway. Maybe if he froze the legs to the ground... No, they were too strong and too heavy for that to work. He’d have to freeze the whole creature solid, and he didn’t trust his ice to hold out that long, not when he was working in such a weakened condition. Perhaps they could take it out a rock at a time? Deconstruct the thing down to the individual boulders, and hope it stayed that way. That idea was no sooner thought then thwarted when, with a rumbling roar, the monster called nearby standing rocks into motion. As if they too lived, four rocks rolled closer to the action, and the whirling arms lowered just long enough to ‘collect’ the new additions, lengthening each limb by another couple feet. It still didn’t allow the monster to hit Baby, but the extended reach meant that she was working harder to evade being hit. No, taking it apart wouldn’t work, not when it could so easily put itself back together again.
The answer came so suddenly that Jack groaned at his own stupidity, knocking his head against his staff in frustration, and then hissing at the sharp stab of pain in his skull. Oh yeah, head wound, no wonder he was slower than a herd of turtles stampeding uphill through molasses in January right now. Well, he had a plan that would work at least, assuming he could get the necessary burst of speed required. Jack snuck his way as carefully as a flying teenager could around in a circle until he was perched on the lower rocks, behind the creature and as close as he could get to Noddwyn, who was mostly being ignored in favour of the annoyance that Baby was making of herself. Jack hissed down to the Rockling, catching his attention and making a few broad gestures, hoping he understood. Noddwyn paused, then nodded, stepping back to give Jack room to work. With a grim smile, Jack leaned forward, and carefully iced the entire ground surface in the clearing between the canyon’s cavernous walls. Baby must’ve caught sight of him and figured it out, for suddenly she was chirping with renewed determination and flying a bit further out, coaxing the lumbering giant into taking a single step onto the suddenly-treacherous surface.
Well, lookie that, the bigger they are, the harder they certainly do fall! Jack couldn’t stop from crowing in victory, ignoring the way the loud burst of sound seemed to rattle around inside his head, setting of bright starbursts of pain in its wake. The Rockmonster hits the ground a with crash so incredible both ice and stone buckle beneath it, one entire arm disconnecting to flop and roll harmlessly across the ice in the wrong direction. Sunk almost halfway into the stony ground and down a limb, the creature struggles to right itself. But, like a turtle stranded on its back, it lacks the coordination necessary to do so. Jack Jumps down, scooping up Noddwyn in his free hand. He takes a quick second to ice the creature further, pinning its arms and legs to the ground like a frozen statue. It won’t hold for long, but Jack intends to be far, far away by the time it figures out how to get back to its feet. Jack then ices a path away, through a narrow ravine and slightly downhill, skating along as fast as possible. Baby is right over his head the whole way, cheeping directions for the best route using her overhead view, to keep him from any dead ends. As they had discovered over their time traversing this landscape, the rock piles and steep canyon walls formed a veritable maze, and now was not the time to be getting lost. Jack’s head was swimming; dizzy with pain and loss of blood, he hurt everywhere. He wanted nothing more to stop until the everything decided to stand still again, but in the far distance he heard the racket of the creature’s continued struggles, and realized he couldn’t stop as long as there was a possibly of it getting back to its feet. Another burst of panicked adrenaline allowed him to stay upright and keep moving; he was here with his friends and they were unharmed, but that could change any moment if he didn’t put more distance between them and the angry thing behind them. Jack carried on, top speed, even when both Baby began to twitter that they were safe, that they could slow down. Noddwyn joined in soon too, making a low grinding noise that Jack guessed was displeasure. He didn’t slow down though; he couldn’t fathom ever slowing down, and he didn’t care if this was cheating. The Road and its rules could go hang for a minute, until Jack had got his friends to safety. He might’ve loved Bunny above all others, but he wasn’t about to trade any of his friends for another, he didn’t work like that. They’d come so close, his moment of inattention costing them dearly. If he hadn’t had let go, if he hadn’t have forgotten his mission, forgotten BUNNY, if he’d ignored his selfish, base desire to HAVE FUN...
Jack tripped over a rock he’d missed, sprawling face-first onto the ice and dirt, which made his body light up once again in an agony so great he couldn’t choke down his hoarse, raw cry. Noddwyn chattered from beneath him, clambering out from under Jack’s broken body to poke gently at his face. He seemed to be inspecting Jack’s injuries based on his unhappy grinding and the slow exploration of every bit of Jack that hurt. Adrenaline and purpose fading, Jack found himself utterly wrecked and unable to move beyond a weak shuffling in the dirt. He quickly found himself forced to submit to Noddwyn and Baby’s attentions, the former grinding away and the latter clucking in worry and disapproval. Jack felt his eyelids being to droop, but he couldn’t rest, not here, not yet. He didn’t appear to have a choice though being so utterly drained. Slowly, slowly he slipped into blackness, two small, gentle pairs of hands soothing him the whole way.
“Watch out, Sandy!” Jack hollers, ducking under a flailing sharp-edged weapon. Sandy does the same, giving Jack a quick thank-you grin. The creatures they were fighting had three legs, but only one long, pendulous arm with which to attack. Unfortunately, despite that they were eerily talented at swinging the long, scythe-like weapons they favored. Tooth had already lost some plumage to them, and North had suffered a giant slice through his favorite coat. Not like that would stop the Guardians from fighting them or anything, but it had been made abundantly clear to all of them that the stakes were high. Jack swung his staff again, sending another flare of frost into an advancing quartet of big, mean and ugly’s. His time with the Guardians had honed his fighting skills, and his newfound belief base had given him extra oomph to back it up. He hit harder, faster and better than ever before; and combined with the teamwork of the rest of his friends it showed. The enemy was falling in droves, bodies melting into a sticky, oozing muck at the moment of death. They had them pinned down and on the run, and it was only a matter of time before the Guardians were victorious. That was when things went wrong.
Jack could already taste their victory, feel it singing in his veins. Looking back, he knows it made him sloppy, made him cocky. Jack knocks down the last of the enemy, and turns to find Bunny, a smile on his lips, but he was wrong; there was one more, one fallen but not dead, who then lunges up in a desperate, last ditch effort. Jack feels only the pressure of Bunny’s paws on his shoulders, shoving him down into the ichors and mud before the weight of the Pooka’s body is collapsed above his own. Jack can hear the others still fighting in the distance, but only has eyes for both the enemy; who has collapsed in true death now, boomerang embedded in its rapidly disintegrating skull, and Bunny. Bunny who is still sprawled unmoving on Jack’s chest and bleeding profusely; too much wet warmth seeping from his gut onto Jack’s prone form. Bunny who was hit from behind so hard at a sweeping, horizontal angle that he has been nearly bisected by the blow; the blade only stopping when it lodged tight into the bone of the hip opposite where it entered. Above him Bunny groans in pain; the sound wet and gurgling with the blood filling his friend’s lungs, and it is all Jack can do to suppress his rapidly rising hysteria. As carefully as possible, Jack manoeuvres his friend onto his back, snapping the blade off the handle to do so, knowing that removing it entirely will only make the blood flow harder, faster. It’s all an exercise in futility though; for all they are immortal and difficult to so much as injure, a wound like this cannot be survived, not for all the healing or belief in the world. There are no miracles for beings like them, and no gods that they can pray to for mercy; Jack knows this well, for it was Bunny who taught him. For only a second, Jack and Bunny’s eyes meet, and Jack see’s the truth there, see’s the acceptance of what is to come and it drives him cold and icy inside in a way he’s never felt before. The finality of it all hits Jack like he’s the one bleeding out on the filthy ground, and Jack blinks hard to hide the tears. Instead, Jack smiles for his best friend for the last time, reaching to take his hand.
Twice, Jack feels himself trying to surface, but each time, opening his eyes and moving his limbs makes him feel like he’s treading water in Jello. Each time though, he knows he’s not alone, and can hear both Baby and Noddwyn beside him, caring for him. He hates that he’s making them worry, hates that he’s too weak to even wake up properly, hates that he’s the weak link holding them back. Without him being stupidly distracted, he’d have avoided being surprise-attacked, meaning he wouldn’t have been injured, meaning they’d still be moving and not camped out here, waiting for Jack to pull himself back together. Jack drifts in an out, never quite fully cognizant of his surroundings, but aware enough that the anger festers, grows. Jack’s been a hooligan most of his life; running rampant without authority or responsibility. It’d taken him some time to learn to work with the other Guardians; to adhere to a routine and hold himself accountable for his own actions, but finally succeeding had opened him up to the greatest friendships he knew he’d ever have, including Bunny. Bunny, who Jack had in a moment of mirth allowed himself to forget. Jack had a mission, a purpose here; this wasn’t a pleasure cruise and Jack would not, could not be allowed to forget again
Failure was not acceptable.
It took some doing, but Jack finally dragged himself back into the world of the living. He’d been moved, or rather, flipped from his stomach to his back, and he couldn’t help the flash of guilt that slid through him at the thought of what his significantly smaller friends would have gone through to do so. His cloak had been tucked around him, like a blanket, which Jack didn’t actually require being immune to the cold, but the gesture didn’t fail to make him humble with the love that the others had shown him. They’d obviously tended him as he slept as best they could, considering the limitations of both their size and the resources available to them. The moment his eyes were open, and stayed open, Jack was mobbed by two tiny bodies, both of them curling up on opposite sides of his face and snuggling him with relief. Or, not as tiny, as Baby had grown significantly in the time he’d slept. She was now more than half the size of Noddwyn. The Rockling himself didn’t look to have changed physically; but when he snuggled himself against the side of Jack face and began to rumble in contentment, Jack realized that his small body was warm to the touch. Before, Noddwyn had been the ambient temperature any other rock would be; now, although still as stony as ever, the creature was as warm against Jack’s skin as Baby. Add that to his increasing vocalizations and Jack realized, with a dawning sense of horror, that whatever was changing Baby was likely acting on his new friend, too. The thought that this place was acting on his loved ones in some inescapable and unknown way terrified Jack to his very core. Filled with renewed determination, Jack sat up, ignoring both Baby’s alarmed cheeping and the twinge in his back. Jack did a hasty check of his ribs, which seemed to be mostly healed, if a bit tender. His head wound checked out the same, and his feet were intact again, although the former hoodie sleeves turned bandages were unsalvageable. It was his back that concerned him the most; even a shattered spine should have regenerated by now, why after all this time, did he continue to ache?
“How long was I out?” Jack asked, pushing himself to his feet, sweeping his staff up in one hand and Noddwyn in the other. Baby was already airborne and twittering away, trying to convince Jack to lay down, for a bit longer. He waved her off, repeating his question again until she relented and confirmed what he’d been suspecting; he’d been out of commission for an estimated two days. Jack felt the scowl settle onto his features, beyond furious at his own weakness. Two days, completely lost. Two days that Bunny had remained grave-bound and waiting. Two days was far too long. Jack was so far into his self-castigation, he nearly lost an eye as he went to move forward only to be met by the impenetrable force that was Baby. Frowning harder, Jack made to gently bat the fairy away.
“Geeze Baby, lighten up! Look, we’ve lost too much time; we need to get going if we want to...”
‘To what, Jack, rush headlong toward your death?’
Jack blinked at the little fairy, moth open comically, temporarily stunned into a stupor. In the crook of his left arm, Noddwyn made a series of small clicking noises that Jack suspected was laughter. Probably laughter at him, if he at all cared to hazard a guess.
“Baby, since when do you speak?” Baby’s voice was as high-pitched and thin as the birdlike noises she’d made before, that Jack had always been able to understand. Speaking actual words though, she sounded exactly like Jack always thought she would; somewhere halfway between a child and something older, something that gave her ethereal voice a layer of magic and wisdom.
‘Since long before you cared enough to listen, Jack Frost!’ Baby was angry, Jack could tell without even hearing it in her voice; her feathers were ruffled and her tiny face was set and grim. ‘You would have died, Jack. Died and left us here like Bunny did.’ Jack felt the weight of that right in the heart of him, like a sucker punch to the midsection.
“It wasn’t Bunny’s fault! He didn’t choose to die!” Jack felt the rage flare, incandescent in his chest, but Baby kept going, ignorant of his helpless anger, Noddwyn nodding away in agreement in Jack’s arms.
‘Bunny chose to fight, as he always did, knowing what the price of failure is. He chose to stand by you, his kin, his friend, to lay down his life in protection of yours, the way any of our own would. You choose to be reckless! You choose to forget, to throw yourself away foolishly!’
“I CAN’T FORGET!” Jack yells the words, the scream torn from his with such force that Baby falls silent and Noddwyn halts, shocked. “I can’t forget.” Jack murmurs, quieter. “How could I, Baby? When he died for me? How could I ever? I came here for him, but then, that rock thing was all over you two, and I couldn’t stop moving until I was sure, perfectly sure, that you would be okay. Baby, I can’t... I mean, what else could I do, Baby? I couldn’t lose you, either of you, too.” The world seemed unnaturally, utterly still in the wake of his words, with not even a breeze to break the tension. Then, with a tense cry, Baby barrelled into Jack’s chest, curling up in the fabric of his bloodstained hoodie, pressed between both Jack and Noddwyn, drawing comfort. Jack wrapped his arms around both, hugging his friends close, and wondering when the cold tears had begun to wet his cheeks. He wanted to tell them both that he loved them, that he missed Bunny, that he was angry at the other for leaving and angry with himself for not having fixed it yet, that his back still hurt, that Baby and Noddwyn were irrevocably altered and he didn’t know why and it scared him, but the words would not come. The only thing that would was the tears; a sweet purge, one he’d denied himself so long. Sinking to his knees on the rough ground, Jack rocked his friends back and forth, holding them close while he let himself go.
“You should still be resting.” Jack paused, halfway out the window. It had been great at first; they’d defeated Pitch, Jack had taken the Guardian vows, and they’d flown the sleigh to the Pole to celebrate. The festivities hadn’t lasted long though, before each one found themselves slipping away to rest. There was a lot of work left yet; they teeth had to be retrieved and returned, and the Warren had to be cleaned and repaired. They’d all agreed to tackle the aforementioned tasks tomorrow, but what was left of tonight was for resting and recovering their energies. It had been a long few days, especially for the others having experienced an almost cataclysmic loss of faith. Jack himself could certainly use a nights rest, he was still hurting from being chucked around like a ragdoll by the Nightmare King, and something deep inside was still smarting, even after having fixed his staff. He’d smiled and accepted North’s hospitality when the man had offered his friends the use of various guest suites for the night, but he’d given up on actually sleeping after about five minutes. It had been three centuries since Jack had been indoors this long, and just as long since’ he’d slept somewhere that was an actual bed, and not a snow bank or tree branch. Truth be told, Jack was far outside his comfort zone and chafing for the wide open sky. So, he’d made to bail, silently, hoping to return in time for breakfast so as not to offend his host. These new friendships were fragile; he didn’t want to ruin them over something as stupid as his own ridiculous hang-ups. He’d thought he’d been pretty sneaky, carefully slipping out his door and down the hall to the window he’d sat in after Sandy had died. He’d rather have just snuck out straight from his room, but the window in there didn’t open. This other one though had appeared to have a functional latch and hinges, so escape was a possibility at least. If this idea had failed, he’d probably have to lurk about until he found the front door, and that had too high a probability of being caught by one of the Yetis for his liking. Of course, he’d neglected to factor better-than-average giant lagomorph hearing into the equation. Jack cursed softly under his breath, unimpressed with his totally amateur mistake. Reluctantly he turned to face Bunny, plastering an ingratiating smile on his face for good effect.
“Bunny! Fancy seeing you here, figured you’d be dead to the world by now.” Jack’s smile felt brittle and he found himself silently squaring his shoulders against the certain accusation. Instead of raising his voice, as Jack had expected, Bunny wandered over and casually ushered him out of the window, closing and latching it to keep out the biting cold. Jack wanted to fight back, waited to be given a reason to, but Bunny just settled himself onto the window seat, gesturing Jack to do the same. Jack relented, perching on the very edge, leaving as much space between him and Bunny as possible, uncomfortable with the thought of sitting any closer. Bunny, if he noticed, didn’t appear to care. In fact he didn’t even look directly at Jack, as if knowing too much direct attention right now would be enough to make the other bolt.
“I don’t sleep very well indoors like this; too much wood and metal, not enough dirt and roots.” Bunny speaks casually, as if discussing something innocuous like the weather. It’s at odds with the way Jack is used to him speaking, which isn’t unusual considering Bunny was usually yelling at Jack about something or another.
“And, you’re telling me this why now?” Jack couldn’t stop the sarcasm from creeping into his tone. To his credit, Bunny didn’t even seem to be surprised.
“Nick knows to give me a room with a big window, it helps. Big window’s in this place means a balcony’s attached; means fresh air, a bit of the outdoors right at hand. If he wasn’t so done in, he’d probably have thought to do the same for you.” Jack wanted to sneer, but there was something funny slowly tightening in his chest at Bunny’s words. “If you wanted,” the other male continued, “you could come and sleep there. It’s obvious the cold and wind won’t bug yah, if you felt like being under the sky and all.” Jack couldn’t breathe, couldn’t make a sound, afraid that only and embarrassing keening noise might come out f he tried. He wanted to accept, did he ever, but he also wanted to refuse on general principle, because who did the rabbit think he was, showing up here and knowing exactly what Jack needed, anyways? Bunny must’ve taken his stunned silence in the negative, because he’d risen and moved to leave, without so much as a muttered farewell. Jack couldn’t blame him, knowing it was ruder than even sneaking out to not have even thanked Bunny for the offer, but his throat was still in knots. Instead, Jack hurried to Bunny’s side, following the other back to his room, and out onto the proffered balcony.
“Try and rest, alright kiddo? You had a few knocks today, and even the boost from your believers won’t be good enough ta fix you up ‘til you’ve had a proper night’s sleep.”
Jack nodded blindly, suddenly feeling far more tired than he had even fifteen minutes previous, as if the promise of a safe place to crash had set a spell of slumber over him. He allowed the other to let him out, but Bunny had to latch the window behind him to keep it closed and the room warm enough for him. It didn’t even occur to Jack until he’d had a good, long sleep curled in a soft pile of snow to be mistrustful or wary that Bunny wouldn’t let him back in. He’d hesitated a moment then, before knocking, wondering if this was where everything would fall apart, but he didn’t have time to dwell because Bunny beat him to the knock, opening the door with a look so satisfied that Jack didn’t fully understand it.
They set out on their trek again once the tears are exhausted. Jack doesn’t think he has it in him to disappoint Baby a second time, so they do so at a normal, standard pace. Jack had planned to see how far he could push his luck with skating, but as Baby had ever-so helpfully pointed out, it could be considered cheating and it was a wasteful use of his powers. Jack didn’t have the support of his believers out here, and while he wasn’t suffering any negative physiological effects like the other Guardians had during the last fight with Pitch, he also wasn’t a fraction as strong as he’d grown used to, as evidenced by his earlier collapse. He’d argued half-heartedly, but had given up when Noddwyn had joined in, body grating and vibrating in Jack’s arms in a way that was clearly disapproving. In deference to Baby’s concern, Jack had allowed her to check him over again, head to toe. He’d even swallowed his pride and admitted to the continued pain in his back. As expected, both Baby and Noddwyn had thoroughly inspected every inch of Jack’s spine, but other than a bit of swelling and persistent bruising between his shoulder blades, they hadn’t found anything. Choking down his unease, Jack had forced a smile and tucked Noddwyn up onto his shoulder, as before. Baby had declined the ride however, choosing instead to fly and help keep a lookout. Jack couldn’t say for sure, and he didn’t want to upset Baby by asking, but he figured that she was probably feeling guilty about her own distraction allowing Jack to be injured. Knowing it was the best way to handle the situation, he accepted her aid for the apology it was and said no more on it. It was less than half a day later, by Jack’s crude estimation, that the rocks began to shrink, and more and more sand began to take up residence under Jack’s feet. Jack felt a thrill of fear shoot through him as he realized what was happening. Praying to any deity that might listen, Jack hoped beyond hope that he was wrong.
He wasn’t.
Only a short time later, the rocks disappeared completely, giving way to a wide expanse of sand dunes as far as the eyes could see. Jack and his friends had just walked themselves straight into a desert, with nary an end to be found.
“You alright there, snowflake?” Jack jumped, startled to hear Bunny’s voice to close behind him. He’d been distracted, back turned toward the door as he huddled in a corner of the garden, rubbing a rapidly melting snowball all over his face in an attempt to cool down.
“Bunny! Give a guy a heart attack why don’t you!” Jack grinned as carelessly as he could manage trying to hide the snowball behind his back, but Bunny’s serious expression and lack of laughter told him that he’d been caught out. “I was just on my way in... Did you need something?” Jack asked, trying to play it as casual as possible.
“You could start by telling me you’re alright.” Bunny’s hands had moved to his hips, and he had his ‘serious business’ face on. Jack offered the other the most reassuring smile he had.
“I’m fine!” Jack chirped, but Bunny wasn’t letting it slide.
“Honestly mate, if the heat is getting to yah, we can vamoose, no feelings hurt.” Jack shook his head, ruefully.
“No Bunny, its fine. I’m fine promise. It’s hot, yes, and I needed a bit of a breather, but it’s also humid.” Jack summoned another snowball from the moisture in the air and nibbled at it to help wet his dry throat, crunching the icy bits for good effect. “As long as there is some moisture in the air, I’ll be fine. I can keep myself cool by frosting my skin and letting it melt, kind of like humans sweat. It’s dry heat that’s dangerous. Desert’s are kind of a no-go, for that reason.” Jack laughed lightly and Bunny seemed satisfied, slowly allowing himself to relax.
“Y’know kiddo, the arctic tundra’s a desert, too.” Jack barked a laugh, rolling his eyes.
“Only based on average precipitation levels! There’s tons of ambient water in the snow that’s sort of permanently EVERYWHERE! Also, it’s cold, so even if it was in fact bone dry, there’d be no issue.” Bunny chuckled at Jack, pleased as he always was whenever Jack said something that proved him to be clever, and ‘not just a hat-rack,’ as the Pooka was fond of saying. For that reason alone, Jack had taken to sitting in on university lectures and skimming the reference sections of every library he could find. Jack was no dummy; he’d just not been very well read, before Bunny had encouraged him otherwise. Now, finding himself saying things like ‘average precipitation levels’ wasn’t unheard of. It made Jack feel... better, about himself, more confident, knowing that he wasn’t the total moron a lot of spirits had assumed he was based solely on his happy-go-lucky attitude. Apparently, some people thought that smart and playful couldn’t co-exist. Jack pitied them; he figured that since they fancied themselves so smart, they must’ve all been very boring people. More importantly then their opinions though, was what the Guardians thought. Although Jack had never told anyone, he could admit that it made him feel fantastic, having the knowledge that all the Guardians, especially Bunny, trusted him to hold his own intellectually, not just physically. Sometimes, Jack swore that they’re belief in him did more to nurture and encourage him than the belief of a thousand children ever could, and it was Jack’s intent to never give them reason to stop.
“Whither will my path yet lead me? This path is stupid, it goes in spirals, perhaps in circles, but whichever way it goes, I will follow it.”
― Hermann Hesse