A/N: So, it took me actually forever to remember how this site works. Um...hi?

Surprise! I am still working on this ancient story what?

K, like. Jr year was crazy. I'm crazy. Crap happened and also work. And also I didn't want to write, so...

But, here's a chapter? For some reason? This baby has been written for...like a year actually, but like I said, I didn't do much in the way of writing.

Warnings for mention of death, discussion of grief, etc.

This is a bit of a . . . darker chapter. Mostly because when I wrote it, a girl from my neighborhood had just passed away in a car crash. I didn't know her well, but we did know her family and it was pretty hard. Also, I'm incapable of not forcing my feelings onto fictional characters, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . Thus, this piece is dedicated to you Syd. Live like Syd y'all.

IDK when the next post is going to happen, but when it is... don't expect something less dark 'cause it'll be the piece I wrote when my grandma passed away.

Life, amiright.

Also this hasn't been fully betaed because I'm like the worst. Sorry Meg :(

Anyway, thanks for hanging around and reading for some reason. Love you all ,3.

June 17th

Supportive

It was a huge shock at first.

When the news came - Sandy found out first, then told the tooth fairies, who then told Bunny and Jack - they'd all rushed to the Pole.

Silence had no place in a workshop, much less one that makes toys for the world, but yet it was there. Startling and sobering.

North had holed himself up in his office, carving toys without even a single note of music playing, and no cookies in sight. Perhaps it was then that Jack realized how big a role Phil had played in the lives of so many.

Because you never understand how much you will miss a person until they're actually gone.

All four of them waffled outside of North's door, not sure whether he needed company or space. Eventually Tooth knocked on the doorframe and entered at the grunt that followed. Sandy followed her, and Bunny met Jack's eyes with a rather vacant expression before doing the same. Jack curled one hand around the door frame and the other around his staff as he watched Tooth talking quietly with North, aided by Sandy's images. The resident Pooka had leaned himself up against the brickwork by the fireplace. With a quiet gust of wind, Jack leapt into the room, settling his back against the ice on the left of the desk, placing his staff under his bent knees and hugging them loosely.

North's eyes met his for a moment - just a brief one - and Jack gave him a little grimace-smile that the Cossack returned.

With a quiet, understanding whisper, Tooth asked what had happened, and North responded, his raucous tone reduced to thick and hoarse, almost sotto voce.

It was an accident of course - an almost four-hundred year old yeti doesn't just kick the bucket for no reason. Phil had been visiting his cousins somewhere in Cascadia, enjoying his vacation from work, when he was caught in a sudden territorial battle between Bokwus and some summer imps.

Yetis were not immortal. They had long lives, yes, but in the end, they passed on just like all mortal beings. Phil had gone much too soon.

Jack felt a deep sense of wrongness in his chest, a feeling he couldn't quite name but knew all too well.

"Oh, North…" Tooth trailed off, tears filling her eyes.

Sandy put a hand on North's shoulder and squeezed, eyebrows drawn and frown on his lips.

With a brittle sigh, Jack put his head against his knees. Sure, he hadn't known Phil well, but the shock of the news had worn off and the realization that he would never see the yeti again hit him.

He would never again roll his eyes at Jack's stupid pranks or yank him by the hood of his jacket like so many of the yetis were fond of doing. The Pole would never be the same without his watchdog like faithfulness to his duty of keeping unwanteds out of the workshop.

Jack would never get to know him.

Perhaps this was the most startling thing - the recognition of the fact that he hadn't known him. He had no clue what Phil's favorite things were, if he actually liked his job, if he found Jack's break-in attempts annoying or not. Nothing.

There was silence in the room again, one full of grief and unsaid platitudes. Bunny had become still as a statue by the fire, the only thing moving was his nose, which twitched in a way Jack had come to associate with sadness and loss.

Thoughts raced around his head in circles - what if...how did this happen?...why?...why didn't i know him better?...i wish i had...what if i had?...would this be even harder?...North must be in pain...he's the only one that really knew him...he was there all the time, in the background...why didn't i try?...why did i let someone like that slip through my grasp?...he was always there...i wish…

North's head was bowed, and Jack could see the tears that had fallen on the desk.

Minutes passed, and still there was silence (thick and emotional and full).

Once, Jack had snuck into a classroom through an open window. It was some type of health class, that much he knew for certain.

The other thing he'd known? That the class was much too sober for a bunch of teenagers. He'd glanced at the front of the room, at the things written on the board, and returned outside in a rush.

He'd had enough 'coping with grief' for his lifetime.

But even then, he'd put some thought into it in the quiet moments after the sun had set. A book, stolen earlier that day from a library, answered some of his questions. In the end it only brought up more (questions like 'what's depression?' 'am I depressed?' 'is wanting somebody to notice me a symptom of depression?'), so he returned it as soon as the library had opened the next morning.

However, he had never put much thought into the idea of the five stages of grief. The initial denial, yes. That was always first (Unless it was expected, like when Jamie's grandfather passed away after fighting cancer. Jamie had known he'd be gone, had spent time with him before it happened. Perhaps the shock and rejection of the idea had come when the news of cancer had.). But anger? Was he angry at the spirits that had caused this? Yes. But he also knew that they were nature sprites - unable to connect and feel the emotions of others. He knew that they had no idea of the pain they were causing.

Times like this, he was glad to be a spirit, and not a sprite.

Bargaining? Jack knew death, had ushered it places, seen its consequences. There was no bargaining with death, no way to get somebody back, whole and alive again. (Even Orpheus had failed in his quest.) Death took, and death honored and respected no man, sprite, or immortal being.

Jack didn't bargain with death.

Depression and acceptance were a part of it too. A look at Bunny made Jack wonder if the Pooka was still caught in the thick pit of depression from losing his home and species, and if this death was just another pain to add on.

He may be the Guardian of Hope, but even Bunny could feel the loss and be unable to move on.

And was it wrong (so wrong, so incredibly jaded and cynical) that Jack had already accepted it? That he understood that Phil wasn't coming back, that there was nothing they could do to avenge him, and that they had to move on no matter how hard it was?

The silence was getting to him. He'd had enough silence over the three hundred years he'd been alive, thank you very much. He wanted it to stop.

So he ended it.

"You know," he started conversationally, eliciting a jump from both Bunny and Tooth, "Phil was the first one to catch me trying to sneak into the workshop."

All eyes were on him now, so he continued, trying to remember the emotions of that fateful day, "I was young, probably only thirty or forty years old at that point, and whaddaya' know, there's a giant building at the North Pole!" He drew the corner of his mouth up into a sad smirk, thinking of loneliness and no one can touch me or see me and what do I do, am I a ghost?, before returning to his story.

"So of course I snuck in a window just like any other normal person," He said wryly, getting a not-quite-a-smile from Bunny, "and it turns out it's Santa's Workshop! There were ribbons everywhere - glitter too." He made a face at this and Tooth gave a little sigh-huff of acknowledgement at the unspoken 'glitter is of the devil' hanging in the air.

"Anywho, there I was, minding my own business, just trying to see what was going on, and suddenly this gigantic hand grabs me by the back of my cloak and just...hoists me over a shoulder, and I was like, freaking out at this point because…" he trailed off for a second, because the reason he'd startled so much was because he hadn't had any contact with someone for over five years. He blinked and glanced down at his knees so that Sandy wouldn't be able to see the real reason in his eyes, "I mean, who really expects that to happen after sneaking in somewhere, am I right?" Bunny rolled his eyes at that.

"So, Phil just puts me on his shoulder and starts walking to the window, so I tried to make conversation like, 'Hey, I'm Jack Frost, nice place you have here! So what are you exactly? Never seen a gigantic furry thing like you before - well, except those gorillas I ran into a while back.'"

There was a watery smile on North's face, and Jack thought he might be thinking of the face Phil must have pulled at the comparison.

He cleared his throat and continued, "So he just stopped for a moment, pulled me off his shoulder, pointed to himself and said 'yeti'. I was all like 'Yeti, huh? Cool name!' and he shook his head and pointed around at all the others and I just kinda...looked at him for a minute before it clicked, you know? Then I was like, 'wait, so you're a yeti, but then what's your name?' and Phil said his full like...seventeen syllable name in yetish and I was so confused, so he finally just grunted something that sounded like 'Phil' and I went with it."

The other four Guardians were smiling slightly at the thought of Phil trying to explain things to Jack. Bunny and Sandy both knew the feeling of mistranslating or even not quite understanding the yetis, and Phil had been quite the master at causing communication confusion because he refused to try and speak the pseudo-English many of the yetis used with visitors to the Pole.

There was a quiet moment before Bunny spoke up, "Hey, ya' remember when Phil banned us from playing Candy Land because we accidentally set that table on fire?"

Tooth snorted at the reminder, "And that time he tried to out-eat Sandy in a contest?"

Sandy laughed silently at that and started forming symbols above his head, "Slide, ladder, explosion."

"Ah yes," North said with a hint of humor in his voice, "the great Chutes and Ladders conspiracy."

They all shared a smile at that.

For the next few hours they shared stories and memories, some things Jack had never heard before, and some that he'd actually been a part of.

The ache was still there, and he thought that maybe it would never leave.

But the most they could do was to focus on the good things, to remember Phil, and to never let those memories fade away.

ooOOooOOoo

Yeti funerals were much like the memorial they'd had for Sandy back in '12. Or at least that's what it seemed like to Jack. The candle, the elves playing songs on their bells, the entirety of the Pole all squished together in support. Four yetis, all kind of gray/brown colored, stood closest to the candle, with North in the middle. Jack thought that maybe they were Phil's family or maybe close friends. He wasn't sure.

But either way, he was content to curl up in what had become known as his window seat (Bunny referred to it as Jack's brooding place), and watch the ceremony from a distance. Beside him, a frosty version of a yeti decorated the window.

This memorial/funeral/ceremony seemed to go on much longer than Sandy's. Maybe it was because at the time, the Guardians had been a little preoccupied with Pitch taking over the world, or maybe it was just yeti tradition. Either way, it had gone on long enough that Bunny had wandered over to Jack's window and taken up residence with him, bumping their shoulders together in a show of solidarity.

They sat in silence for a while, just thinking.

This time Bunny was the first to speak up, "I didn't know 'im that well, yunno?"

"Yeah," Jack voiced his agreement, nodding his head slowly, "I wish...I dunno."

"That you knew 'im better? That you didn't take 'im for granted?" Bunny waited for Jack to nod again before quietly adding, "Me too."

Again, conversation stopped and they both just listened to the ringing of bells and the noise of yetis murmuring back and forth to one another. It was a little strange for both of them to be so silent with each other; they bantered back and forth rather doggedly on a regular basis.

But it felt too raw and disrespectful to do so here, no matter how much it might have helped to distract them.

Eventually the ceremony came to a close and the large group of yetis dispersed to various parts of the Pole. North, Sandy, and Tooth all stayed by the lit candle for a little longer, while Bunny and Jack watched from a distance.

Tooth and Sandy left shortly after - they didn't only work one night a year after all, and North headed back up to his office, presumably to work on more toy designs.

The two other Guardians stayed for a little longer near the window before Bunny finally stood up, stretched out his spine, and murmured something about checking on some of his more delicate plants. Jack issued a short goodbye and watched as the Pooka tapped his foot and leapt down the rabbit hole.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, sitting with only his thoughts to keep him company.

ooOOooOOoo

It is exponentially easier to sneak into the workshop when the yetis aren't actively trying to stop you from doing so.

That was what Jack found out as he flitted from rafter to rafter, hallway to hallway, as he continued on his search for a slightly abandoned looking room to hatch his plan in. The Pole had a surprising number of these, as it was so huge that North and even most of the yetis tended to forget where every single room was located.

Some rooms had been taken over by elves years ago, but others were desolate and slightly dusty.

One such room caught Jack's eye as he flew down yet another winding hall. He hastily slowed to a stop and backtracked, glancing both directions before entering, just in case. The yetis weren't going to stop him, but he'd rather they didn't know about this.

Especially since he thought bringing it up might cause the entire silent-understanding-while-silently-working-on-toys thing they'd got going to dive bomb and explode into millions of pieces.

He did not want to be responsible for the Pole's disintegration into madness…

Again.

(Okay, it was one time and it was an accident.)

But yes. Not a good idea when everyone was possibly still in shock and upset and definitely not making near the quota of toys they usually did.

Jack had checked the numbers. Twice. The Pole was struggling, that much was for sure.

And well... he had liked Phil, continued to like the yetis, and owed North a few favors, so who was going to stop him from helping out with a few toys?

No one.

So he slunk into the room, found a spare bit of wrapping paper, wrote his message, sent it off, and settled down to start working.

He'd never quite forgotten how to carve, even after floating out of the ice. He supposed it was so ingrained in his nature and skills that memory loss couldn't take it from him. The blocks before him were ready to be crafted, so Jack found his tools in the drawers of a desk and started to sand the block of wood.

It was a sort of trade secret that quite a few of the toys that the Pole made were at one point made of wood. From teddy bears to newfangled video games to sleds, they all started out in the same place - the magic wood of the North Pole.

North started the process, with his ice block blueprints, and then the toys went down the line of command.

Wood was sanded, outlines carved, toys painted, magic worked, and transformation of materials accomplished.

But it all started with the blocks of wood carved from the heart of the Pole. When Jack had questioned North about it, all he'd gotten out of the story was something about a big root, Ombric, and a meteor crash.

Yeah, not quite coherent enough for Jack to make heads or tails of the reason, but whatever. Magic was magic and he was surprisingly okay with not quite understanding any of it.

So he finished the initial sanding, slid a much too large finger guard onto his thumb and started whittling.

An indeterminable amount of time later, there was a knock at the door and Bunny wandered in with a slight scowl on his face.

"Ya' couldn't have told me where ya' were or anything, huh?" He grumbled as Jack continued to scrape shavings off the side of his block.

"Eh, figured you could find me with your alien nose or whatever. Also I ran out of room on the paper."

"I noticed," Bunny mumbled as he took a seat, looking rather confused as he looked at the shape emerging from the wood, "all ya' said was 'North Pole, bring your paintbrush'."

"I have big handwriting, okay?" Jack said in mock defense of his actions.

The Pooka rolled his eyes, "Well, I'd like an actual explanation now if ya' don't mind."

Curlicues of wood continued hit the floor as Jack's eyes softened, "Things have been slow up here, you know? Like...Well…" he trailed off for a moment before continuing even more quietly than before, "ever since Phil...the yetis haven't been getting as much done and I thought maybe I could help a bit and then I thought maybe you could help with the painting and I know we won't really get much done, but-"

"You're rambling," Bunny cut in as he reached back to his pouch and pulled out a paintbrush.

Jack took in a deep breath, "Yeah, sorry. But...yeah."

He glanced up to meet Bunny's eyes briefly before returning to work. A slightly awkward silence took over before the elder Guardian spoke up.

"It's a good idea," he said gruffly, "not like I have a ton to do at the mo' anyway."

Jack tilted his head a bit at that, knowing full well that keeping the Warren in order was a year-round task, but simply nodded in acknowledgement. He'd learned a long time ago that Bunny didn't always outright say what he meant.

With a little more whittling with a smaller knife and another round with the sandpaper, the finished product sat proudly on the table. With a "head's up" he tossed it at Bunny, who turned it over and around to inspect it.

"Not bad Frosty," he conceded.

"Thanks, my dad taught me."

"He taught ya' how to carve an American Girl doll out of wood?"

Jack snorted derisively, raising his nose in the air, "I had a sister, you know!" He held the expression for a few moments before he caved and laughed at the deadpan look on Bunny's face before continuing, "But I've had a bit of practice over the years. And I'm surprised you even recognized it for what it is!"

Bunny just twitched his ears and started painting, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "Sophie" as he did so.

Another laugh came from Jack's direction before they settled down to really get to work. It was a simple process; Jack carved, Bunny painted, and they occasionally snarked at each other.

It was nice.

A few hours passed, and Bunny finally stood up and stretched before clapping Jack on the shoulder.

"C'mon Freezer Burn, it's time to finish up."

Jack took another look at the block he'd just finished sanding and then glanced at the wall clock, his eyes suddenly wide with shock.

"Okay, yeah. I definitely need some fresh air." He hopped off the table and grabbed his staff that was leaning against the wall. "I'll sneak these into the magic-time department," he volunteered, gesturing at the pile of toys they'd amassed.

"It's not actually called that," Bunny said with a grin.

Jack shrugged, "I know, but I like 'magic-time department' better."

"Whatever," Bunny conceded before hesitating a moment, "...same time next week?"

The enthusiastic nod from Jack answered that question easily.

ooOOooOOoo

Jack had been sure their work had gone unnoticed.

At least until the moment North had walked up to them at the next Guardian meeting, clapped his hands on both Bunny and Jack's shoulders, issued a quiet (relatively speaking) "thank you", then returning to barking orders at some misbehaving elves.

Blue eyes met green, and they both shrugged and grinned before sitting down to start the business of the meeting.

That entire summer, they kind-of-secretly met up in that not-quite-so-abandoned-anymore room and worked on toys.

At least until a day late in September, when an annoyed yeti burst into the room, grumbled something in strange pseudo-English and dropped two parcels on the floor before exiting.

"What'd he say?" Jack questioned as he set down his most recent half-carved cell phone and moved toward the packages. True to North Pole style, they were both wrapped with precision and tied with neat ribbons.

"Something about not using such pastel colors anymore?" Bunny said with a confused shrug as he set down his paintbrush. Even he wasn't ever really sure what the yetis were actually saying.

Jack crouched down and tugged at a ribbon before carefully removing the wrapping paper with the patience of a saint (or someone who really loved to keep used wrapping paper).

Bunny had no such reluctance and ripped through the paper, bringing the ribbon along for the ride. Both of them sat for a moment, looking at the contents of their respective boxes before pulling things out.

In the box Jack had opened, jars of brightly colored Christmassy paints sat, cushioned by the leather bags with human-sized carving tools and finger guards tucked in the pockets. From the other package, Bunny pulled out two aprons, one white with a large pocket across the front and the other gray with three smaller pockets along the bottom.

At the bottom of that box, a letter sat, a grey silhouette of a yeti the only thing visible on the front of it.

"Well, open it," Jack said as he leaned on Bunny's shoulder and peered around the Pooka's head.

Bunny followed the direction, but not without shifting his shoulder abruptly and sending Jack to the unforgiving wood floor and getting a shocked 'umph' in return.

There were few words on the tri-folded paper, but they were important. Bunny read them aloud with a slightly awed tone.

"Thank you for the efforts you've been making the past few months to help out here at the Workshop. We yetis, as a whole, want to thank you and ask that you start using these paints and tools, as pastel colors are quite contrary to our theme and yeti tools were not made for human fingers."

Jack raised both his eyebrows and let out a low whistle, "That's like...the nicest thing a yeti has ever said to me."

"Yeah," Bunny muttered, still in shock, "I don't think I've ever heard one say thank you."

"Me either."

They both looked at each other, shrugged, and reached for their respective aprons and tools.

Yet again a silence overtook the room as they settled back into a familiar routine.

Only a few minutes later, Jack set down his carving and gazed up at the ceiling in thought.

Bunny took notice of this, but said nothing, letting Jack gather what he was going to say.

"You know...all this stuff is because of Phil," the Winter Spirit said with realization, "the toys, the thanks, everything."

"Yeah," the Pooka agreed, a wry smile on his face.

Jack fiddled with his apron for a few moments, before asking hesitantly, "Is that what people really mean when they say they're never gone if we don't forget them…?"

Bunny raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips together for a moment before answering.

"Yunno, I think that might be exactly what people are trying to say."

Jack nodded, a determined expression glancing briefly across his features, before picking up his block and returning to work.

Maybe Phil would approve, he thought, and a grin appeared on his face - a little wry, a little sad, but understanding.