It's less than a week until Christmas and North is doing nothing. It is December 19th and North is standing still in his office. It is five days until Christmas Eve and North is staring out his window. 120 hours away from the biggest night of the year, and Santa Claus can not move. Instead he stands transfixed by a frosted over window pane, the ice perfectly forming the image of the ideal Christmas image, a family gathered around the tree with presents all around. North can practically see the ice crystals making up the tree lights sparkle and shine as the sun hits them, and he would be hard pressed to swear that flames were not flickering around the icy fireplace. Above the scene there lay a patch of ice, with a childishly simple imprint of a smiley face, wobbly lines obviously drawn into the ice by a finger.

North felt his eyes widen and his chest swell with wonder at the sight, no doubt exactly what the spirit of winter had intended when he put it there. However, the burst of joy that Jack likely had expected to follow was absent, instead the art simply gave the man a hollow feeling of guilt. This was a message from Jack, a reminder not to lose his wonder within the hustle of work and deadlines. This was Jack looking out for him, watching over him like a guardian should. So where had North been when jack needed a guardian?

The man sighed and made his way to his desk, closing his eyes on a burst of sadness when he spotted the stack of cards sitting in a pile in the center of the desk. They were all dated, signed, and addressed to him in the same scrawling and messy penmanship. All bearing the same name at the top left corner with only Burgess Lake as the return address. It wasn't uncommon for North to get letters from spirits. However, it was rare that he would get a genuine one. Too often it was trickster spirits feeling mischievous or minor spirits feeling jealous. They would send him letters asking the impossible from him, addressing them in the names of children genuinely on the nice list and deserving of wonders on Christmas morning. After a while North got tired of the pranks, and had yeti stationed in the mail room to check over the letters and archive the ones with a magical essence. He'd never even considered that it would mean that he would not receive the wishes of one immortal child.

A few months after they defeated Pitch he got his first early letter and the though occurred to him. He'd had the mail yeti search through the archives to find all of the letters Jack had written, just to see if he was right and the boy had actually written to him asking for wishes that never came true Christmas morning. He had.

There were less than a hundred, the last one dated for two years before the blizzard of '68. North hadn't told Bunny about the coincidence, hadn't told him about the letters at all, but couldn't help but wonder if he had answered, had read, even one of these letters if the storm could have been avoided. Something in his belly told him yes. Something in Jack's eyes confirmed it.

North hadn't told Jack about the letters either. Jack knew about their existence of course, but he didn't know that North had dug them up, that he had found them. North couldn't bring it upon himself to read them either, afraid what he would find. He was terrified that he'd find pleas of help, cries for salvation from his loneliness, desperate pleas for someone, for the hero of children, to look at him, notice him. North feared the guilt he would feel if he opened one to find a lonely child's cry for attention. He was afraid of knowing that he could have helped, could have saved a child's pure wonder, but lost the chance.

He sometimes watched the boy now, the lively and excited Jack who saw the joy in everything and seemed unbreakable, and tried to convince himself that he knew Jack. He tried to convince himself that the Guardian of fun had never been the broken, lonely boy he would sometimes imagine. He would almost manage to make himself believe that Jack had stood strong alone, and that his letters would be nothing more than unfulfilled requests for toys or games, perhaps clothes or treats. Almost. But he knew better, and his stomach would never let him believe for long before interrupting with the truth. He had failed Jack, left him alone and let his wonder die.

He also tried to convince himself that Jack's wonder had remained even without North's interference. He reasoned with himself, one could have wonder without Christmas after all. Just because North wasn't personally watching out for the boy didn't mean that he felt no wonder, took no amazement in the world around him. But this lie rang out as hollowly in his mind as the other. Especially when Jack's belief led to him being so far ahead of schedule that he could spare time to stare at frost on his office window. This was power like he hadn't felt in centuries, more than that of hundreds of extra children. He knew that he would have known if he'd had it the year before.

The worst part was, he was pretty sure he could pinpoint the year that Jack lost belief. He couldn't say the exact calendar year, but the Christmas itself was fresh and stark in his mind. It was a beautiful Christmas, full of belief, snow, and wonder. One of his most successful. He felt at full power with wonder and belief flowing through his veins. But then, the next morning he'd felt so incredibly weak. It was as though he were having a hangover worse than any before, like he'd aged sixty years in one night. He could remember running to the globe the instant he awoke, certain he had made some gregarious mistake with the presents that had lost him thousands of believers. To his surprise the globe was just as bright as ever, but the weakness remained. It had felt like he was playing catch up ever since, always busy, always behind schedule. Until this year, that is.

He sighs and drums his fingers along the desk, but cannot think of a reason to stall any longer. He's been able to put off reading them for days, citing that he was busy with Christmas preparation, but they had such a boost of power that they had already made enough toys to give each child what they deserve and more. Now they were only wrapping the presents. And it wasn't even the major wrapping that they were working on, the base wrapping was done yesterday. Now they are focusing on adding glitter, bows, messages, different colors, and anything else to make the presents look prettier. There was nothing else for North to do or oversee. Even the sled was ready to go.

With a sigh the man glanced back to the frost on his window. If Jack could be a guardian to North, then North would be a guardian for Jack. Without any further hesitation the man opens the oldest of the letter.

Dear Santa Clause,

I've heard a lot of things about you this year. A lot of things about a lot of stuff actually, people say a lot of stuff when they don't know you're there. Anyway, people say that if someone writes a letter to you then you'll visit them on Christmas and give them presents if they've been good and coal if not. I think I've been good. If I've been bad then I didn't mean to I swear, but I guess coal wouldn't be so bad if you still came on Christmas to deliver it. I've also heard people say that you don't exist, but I've heard just as many people say you do. Exist, that is. I think I'm going to believe the people that do believe in you for now, after all I'm not really sure I exist. Nobody else seems to notice, so I'm not even sure if you'll get this letter. If I don't exist then I guess the letter doesn't either. I guess I won't know until Christmas. Well, I think that brings me to the present part of this letter. Um, since this is my first time trying this I guess I should start small maybe. I saw some kids using special shoes to walk on the ice, and it looked fun. I mean, I can already walk on the ice, but they slid and seemed to almost fly. It looked like fun. Could I maybe have a pair, please, Mr. Santa?

Jack Frost

The man sighed in relief. That wasn't as bad as he'd feared it would be. Confidence restored, the man opened the next letter.

Dear Santa Clause,

Maybe I didn't send the letter in time last year, I'm sorry. I sent it a lot earlier this year, so I hope you get it. On the bright side I know you exist now! I saw your sleigh when it went over my lake! I was going to say hi, but I decided to pretend to sleep instead. Maybe that's another reason why you didn't come, I wasn't actually asleep. Sorry, it's hard to sleep sometimes, I get nightmares. I think I exist too though, I'm pretty sure. Nobody can see me, but they can see the stuff I make! So, I must exist, right? Anyway, I was thinking about just asking for the ice shoes like last year. Hopefully that will make things easier.

-Jack Frost

North frowned, eyes lingering back to 'nightmares'. He moved the letter into his desk, he'd have to talk to Sandy about it, before moving on to the next.

Dear Santa,

Okay, I think I figured out what the problem was. Maybe. I hope. I haven't been doing this Christmas thing right, I think. I'm going to this year though! I found a really big pine tree by my lake and I'm already making plans to decorate it. I don't do well with fire, but hopefully a snack of nuts and winter berries can count as my cookies, right? I even milked a cow so you'll have a drink. I found a lost sock earlier too, so I have a stocking now. I couldn't make a chimney, but I have everything else, I did everything right so you'll come this year with she skates. Please, please, please come this year. I don't really want the skates this bad, I just really want you to come. I'll be good and asleep, I promise.

Jack Frost

Dear Santa,

If I could just know what I did wrong, please? I know I exist, I know it. Someone talked to me earlier this year. I didn't really like him because he was kind of creepy and kept on disappearing into the shadows, but he saw me so I know I exist. I know you exist too, so please please come. I don't even care if I don't get any presents. If you could just come, maybe explain why you never did before and what I can do better. Maybe it's the skates, I don't need skates. How about a stuffed toy? That could be fun, like, a friend I could carry anywhere. Please.

-Jack Frost

North's frown deepened and he added the letter to the one talking about the nightmare before moving on, his heart growing heavier. As he read on the letters got farther and farther from what he had hoped for and closer to what he had feared. Discussions about Christmas and presents fading in favor of constant pleas for attention. The presents got less and less complex, until Jack was begging for even coal, any sign that North was listening. Every once in a while Jack would mention a nightmare, or a conversation with a shadowy figure, and those letters added to the pile off to the side. As he read the increasingly repetitive notes, he felt his heart grow steadily heavier, falling into guilt until one that was decidedly different from the rest appeared.

Dear Santa,

I guess I haven't fixed whatever I did wrong yet. I'm sorry, I don't know what it was, but I'm sorry. I found your workshop this year. I thought if you didn't have time to come to me, that I might be able to come to you and ask what I could do to fix it, but I got kicked out. I guess you don't even have time for me in summer. I prosmise I wouldn't take up that much time, I could even be helpful. Maybe we can work together? I would LOVE to go with you and give everyone a white Christmas. Just say the word. I wouldn't even need a present! Just spending Christmas with you would be present enough. I've tried extra hard to be good this year, especially since I saw your workshop. Please!

-Jack Frost

North sighed. He'd never been told about Jack's visits. Not the first one, or the series of visits afterwards when the boy attempted to sneak in, apparently decades after the first attempt and long after Jack gave up any attempts to quell his naughty, mischievous nature. He wished he'd known. Even if he hadn't known much about Jack Frost then, just the fact that there was a boy curious enough to crawl through his garbage shoots would have gotten him curious enough to see him. But it wasn't so, he wasn't told, and therefore Jack's next letter was full of apologies for visiting the workshop before they returned to the increasingly desperate and bitter notes. By the time North got to the second to last letter Jack was begging for any sign of reply, sounding like he was going crazy. He wanted someone to notice him on Christmas, any recognition from Santa at all. Finally North got to the last letter in the pile, his heart growing cold as he read the words, the first line nearly as snarky and bitter as Jack had been when the Guardians first tried to recruit him.

Santa,

I don't know why I'm bothering to write these any more, it's not like I'll get a reply. I guess I just decided for one last fruitless attempt. Just, just please. I'll do anything, be good forever if I could just get one thing this one Christmas. Please. I don't care who, I just need someone, anyone, even you, anyone besides Pitch Black to see me.

-Jack Frost

North felt his blood freeze. He'd known from the other letters that Pitch was influencing Jacks. They had spoken of nightmares and shadow men, but to have their nemesis, a spirit of fear named in this final letter…

The usually jolly man let out one long, slow breath. North never did answer this letter, any of them. Jack Frost had gone centuries with the attention of no one. No one but Pitch Black, the boogieman. And Jack… he was so alone, so desperate, so… afraid. And all he had was Pitch. North shuddered, it was enough to make anyone lose their wonder. Suddenly the man's face dropped into a scowl. No. He would not blame Pitch for this. It was his fault and his alone that Jack had lost his wonder. It was the fault of Christmas after Christmas finding himself all alone, forgotten and overlooked. Pitch was just there to pick up the pieces, not to make the shatter.

However, if Pitch were taking an interest in the boy, even so long ago, it would explain so very, very much. It would explain his rise in power, his newfound might. It would explain-

Knock knock. The man was torn from his thoughts by the sound of knocking on his window. He turned to see that while he was been wholly invested and focused on the letters, Jack had silently taken it upon himself to change the picture. The parents were now gone, as well as the fire, and the children slept in a crumpled heap while a pair of feet poked out from the empty hearth. North laughed in wonder and smiled at Jack, tramping down his guilt to show the joy the teen sought. Reaching over to open the window he gestured the boy inside.

"Jack! Window is amazing!"

"Thanks." The teen responded with a grin. "I've got a little practice."

"Aha! Now come, I wished to talk with you."

"Yeah?"

"Yes! Now Jack,": The man began in a conspir1al tone, "Do you know, what is the one thing that is even better than Christmas?"

"What?"

"A white Christmas! And no one would be better for making a white Christmas than you!" He gave the teen a wink. "Would you like to help me spread some Christmas cheer?"

"Can I ride in the sleigh?"

"Of course!"

"Sweet! I'm in."

"Good, good! Come day before Christmas eve, we start at twilight!"

"Sweet! Hey, do you know where Phil is? He'll be mad if I leave without saying hi."

"Why leave so soon? Stay, steal some hot coco. We are ahead of schedule this year!"

"Really? Cool! Does that mean I can freeze some elves?"

"Ha! You could do that even if we were busy!"

Jack grinned before cackling evilly and shooting off outside. North smiled at the sight and began making his way to where the toy-making yetis were resting. They had ice skates and stuffed animals to make. Jack may have gone years, centuries lacking wonder because of North, but if the man had anything to do with it, the child would never go without again.