Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians

Jack hadn't expected it. He hadn't thought the day would go as wrong as it did.

It was December, his busiest month—and he wasn't keeping track of time. It was night by the time he was done with the day, and he hadn't seen it coming.

He cursed himself slightly for the ice. He'd gone overboard with his ignorance and frustration of the day, and the roads were practically covered with the stuff. He sat in a tree by the road, took a breath in, blew a breath out.

"Like hell I can't do it!"

His ears perked up almost comically, and he turned. The group was there, smirking and laughing, a car parked next to them. Claude stood to the side, taking the skepticism thrown at him bravely; fearlessly.

"I bet you can't," Caleb said, chuckling. "Twenty."

"Fifty," Cupcake added, raising a brow.

"Eighty!" Caleb shouted, really giving his brother the stare-down.

"So I get nearly one-fifty if I do this?" Claude smirked. "You're on. There's no way Imma fail this. You two gonna be broke tomorrow." He looked to the others. "Anymore? Anyone else?"

Jamie, Pippa and Monty shifted uncomfortably. "I-I don't think you should do this." Monty said.

"You—you could get killed, Claude," Pippa whispered, giving him a reprimanding glare. "This isn't right."

"This isn't safe, dude." Jamie said. Monty nodded, his glasses laying atop his nose.

The daredevil laughed, rolling his eyes. "You guys are so chicken. Nothin's gonna happen. Just watch."

Jack was leaning forward, worry rolling of him in waves. He watched as the twenty-two year-old got in the car, turned it on, laid his foot on the gas pedal. His back tensed as Claude grinned his wonderful grin—as he hit the gas.

As he flew forward, sliding down the shining road.

Jack's eyes widened. "No!" he flew forward bolting—they couldn't see him, no, they'd stopped believing at around seventeen—his age. He flew forward, agreeing with Jamie and Pippa and Claude, but scolding them all for not dragging Claude's ass out of this bet.

Pippa's face furrowed, and her eyes widened, and she began running forward, hearing the wind screeching and sprinting, it seeming familiar, serious, horrible. But then Jamie bolted in front of her, eyes locked on the car. Monty was behind her. And Caleb was in front of them all, screaming, pleading for his brother to stop the car.

Claude was panicking, fumbling with the pedals. His foot was glued to the break, but it wouldn't work, it wouldn't break, it wouldn't stop, and despite all this, despite the danger, the tree staring him straight in the face, he was exhilarated, fearless, and he didn't close his eyes when he collided.

The air was silent. Caleb stood there in shock, just a few feet away. Jamie rushed forward, second in place.

Jack clawed the window away, hands bleeding and eyes blurry. He already knew he was gone, and no, it wasn't the blood, or the hole, it was simple logic that Jack had gained from years of witnessing car accidents, it was the shock and the brain and the immediate hit.

He heard Jamie behind him, heard him stumble up, heard the harsh breaths and the tight chest, and he whipped back around, glaring at them all.

"What the hell were you thinking?!"

Jamie ran right through him, reaching Caleb and desperately hauling the door open. The others stood in shock.

"What did you think would happen?" Jack screamed, staring at them all. None made eye contact—none could. "What, did the ice just not matter? Was it just not there? Would he somehow, miraculously, find traction on something that you cannot find traction on?"

They began running forward. Jack turned, stalking towards them. Each one, save for Pippa, passed through him, but he was so filled with rage that he could ignore the harsh, choking, constricting feeling. He found his breath. "You just bet on his death! You just—why wouldn't you stop him? Why didn't you tell him he would die? Not that he could, not that it wasn't safe, that he would die? You all are supposed to be adults! You're supposed to protect the young and the old! And this is what you do? You collectively choose a man's fate? You are all so damn immature!"

Caleb sat upon the ice, the concrete, sobbing, heads in hands, while Monty called 911, while Pippa paced, Cupcake quieted, and while Jamie tried to listen to the ringing in his ears. He tried because it was familiar and no it wasn't shock, it wasn't a hallucination, it was someone talking to him, screaming at him, and it sounded oddly familiar—but he couldn't place it. It came from a man of his childhood, of his memories, and he'd forgotten about him long, long ago. But he listened nonetheless.

"You are all so damn stupid! You would think that all you guys went through would have taught you something, maybe common sense, maybe an induced sense of safety—maybe even a bit of fear! Maybe…"

And suddenly, Bunny was there behind him, and he collapsed, breathing heavily and choking, and Bunny was desperately trying to ignore the stark contrast between the blood and snow and ice. He focused on getting his little brother's breathing in check.

"Jack, Jack, listen to me—Jack." He stalled the tears in his eyes as he cradled the small boy, who still wasn't breathing, and Jack was turning blue—and he wasn't responding, instead taking in large, desperate breaths that did absolutely nothing for him. "Jack, please, calm down, calm down—"

And now Sandy was there, and in all his happiness, his face held a look of grief and grimness. He placed a hand on Jack's head, calming the boy instantaneously. His breathing evened out, his face turned white, and he curled up, tears staining his cheeks and shining off the moon's beams.

It was then that Bunny stood, taking in the situation. He'd only heard a little of what Jack had been saying. "What have you all done…?"

Caleb was hyperventilating, Pippa was trying to calm him down, Cupcake was sitting, looking at the ground. Monty was with Jamie, who were by the ruined vehicle, trying to—

"Oh, good God." Bunny gasped, looking at the blood, the blood, and the boy that it all began with. "Oh, Claude—"

And then—then Pitch was there. It caught the two Guardians off-guard, and while Aster immediately held Jack tighter, he ran forward to protect the five, no matter how much of the situation was their fault.

But he simply held a hand up, looking soft, sad, and tired. He looked at Jack's sleeping form. The Nightmare King shook his head, whispering:

"Never have I felt so much fear. And never have I hated it as much as I do now."

Sandy's eyes stared into his yellow orbs, and seemed to understand, while Aster still stood on the defensive.

"What do you want?"

"To teach them a lesson in fear."

Sandy simply nodded, holding the large rabbit back.

Pitch began forward, taking a deep breath. "I remember your words so long ago, Jamie—'I do believe in you, I'm just not afraid of you'. Such strong words, don't you think?"

Jamie glares at him. "Pitch, what do you want?"

"I guess it isn't what I want. You clearly couldn't hear immortality screaming at you, scolding you." Jamie's eyes widen as he looks behind Pitch, seeing the three Guardians.

"Jack…."

"The Guardians can only do so much, Jamie. They help with morale and happiness; motivation. And while you may have fought me, may have defeated me, I am needed. That's why I'm still here, after all. How do you think 'common sense' was born?"

They were all listening now. Caleb and Cupcake still stared at the ground.

"I grew power hungry—you don't need to know how, or why. That isn't my story today. I came to scold you, to teach you a lesson in fear, because clearly you haven't been to school for such a thing. You humans can only do so much to promote safety and sensible actions, and that is why I have the job I do. No, it's not a curse, not a consequence for something I did. It's my job. I bring on nightmares of things that should terrify you, like burning to death, hanging, torture, crashing. I do this so that you know what to avoid and what to not do. I also hope that, should you be kidnapped, tortured, bribed, that in the moments you're hurt and dying, you end up knowing it's scary, terrifying, but that you should be strong. Because facing the inevitable with a smile is strong, not stupid.

"Jack is not the type to open up, yes?" Jamie nodded, as did the others, now all eyes trained on the Nightmare King. "He's young, but not that young—no, he's three-hundred years old! But you already knew that, right? So you all must know how he's gone through every single war since the 1700s alone and afraid, because no one was there for them? Because we weren't smart enough? And how does he still hold a smile, even when he's witnessed the Holocaust, World War I, II? Because he knows it's scary—it's horrifying and ugly—but he stands through it because it wherever he was at the time, the outcome absolutely inevitable."

Bunny clutched Jack tighter still, closer, eyes closed and shut almost painfully at the thought of someone so young and new going through the horrors of humanity and greed.

"And this is why," Pitch growled, glaring at Caleb and Cupcake, "this is why he's so damn smart. After three-hundred years, he knows when to be afraid, when to be brave, when to be smart, when to be witty, when to be sad and happy. He holds complete control of his emotions, and he'd done that for over three centuries. And he just snapped and screamed and you all weren't there to hear him. Because he's still going through the pain of it all.

"And I digress," the dark man sighed, looking his age, older than his age, "because this is about Claude and his stupidity and your stupidity. This is about how he misplaced his fear with false bravery—because his fear failed him when he needed it most. And you didn't stop him. And you've hurt more than yourselves in the process. So get your emotions in check and use common sense."

The five stared silently between each spirit, filled with shame and regret and guilt, but, above all, understanding.

Pitch took in a stuttering breath. "I hate death and tears, so get past this."

When Jack woke up, Pitch was in the room. He looked weary and not at all threatening, and so Jack collapsed into his chest and sobbed, because he still had regrets. He blamed himself.

And Pitch just shook his head, eyes shut and chin resting on the white hair.

"No, no, Jack. My fear just wasn't enough."