A/N: A two-shot featuring Jack and Bunny and the Winds, with all their brotherly love.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

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Jack knew something was wrong the moment he hopped into the Western Wind. For many reasons, it had always been one of his favorite winds. Not the least of which being its power and ferocity in the skies. For Jack, riding Westerly was like a surfer catching the Maverick wave: it was thrill, adrenaline, and complete and utter freedom all balled up into one.

Today however, the only thought that screeched through Jack's mind was PAIN! as the West Wind tossed him about like a dog with his favorite ball. Surprised by the usually giddy sprite's yelp, Westerly halted its play, gently easing Jack back to the high tree branch he'd leapt from.

"Thanks, Wind…" he ground out lowly, wrapping a shaking hand around his middle. "I dun'no what's wrong with me today."

Of course Jack was lying. He knew exactly what was wrong with him. It was only yesterday that he'd been in the fight of his life with Pitch, had his staff broken, and been tossed nearly half-a-mile like a frozen ragdoll. Even a Spirit couldn't walk away from something like that without at least some discomfort.

And boy, was he feeling discomfort now. North had wanted him to lie low for a few days at the Pole, but Jack wouldn't hear of it. Sure, he was thrilled for his new 'family' and all, but between the bonding and the celebration, Jack was missing the peace and quiet of the sky. So, he did what any teenager would have done. He left.

And now, he was paying the price. What started late after the party (after he'd had a good run from the ever irritable Bunnymund) as a dull throb in his side, had compounded since into a stabbing agony that coursed through his entire body. Though he tried hard to ignore it, he was sure something must be broken somewhere. Problem was: Jack had no idea what, or where.

All he knew was, what he thought was a small nuisance was very quickly escalating into a rather large problem.

Carefully plopping himself into a sit on the branch, the winter spirit considered his options. He could always just hibernate for a little while. Most of the world was going into warmer months right now, anyway. He could afford a little time off. A little vacation in Antarctica, maybe? Yeah, Jack thought, good plan. He'd just go find a nice ice cave and hide for a few weeks, and suddenly reappear again, right as rain.

Thusly decided, Jack used his staff to pull up into an unsteady stand on the branch and peered over the evergreen forest. A little known fact: wind currents were best seen this time of day, at dusk. Mixing with the orange and reds of flaming sunlight, Jack caught the subtle twists of green and purple, pink and blue, of the mingling wind patterns. Westerly was hovering just above him still, a twirling mass of rainbow colors; a playful bundle much like one of Sophie's finger paintings. Just beyond, a little lower in the sky, the Southern Wind slunk lazily above the ground with a deep sea blue shimmering across its face.

Jack smiled. "Hey, South!" he called; bracing himself as projecting his voice rattled a sore spot in his chest. "Catch!"

Suddenly, he walked off the branch, falling through the sky without a shred of fear on his face. In milliseconds, the ever-faithful Southern wind braided its colors of turquoise to reach him, wrapping him in a comfortably warm embrace. The movement was gentle and feather-light, but even it, as South wound forward, found Jack gritting his teeth. "Ahg, nope…South…'m sorry. Put me down," Jack couldn't help the whimper in his voice.

Before he knew what was happening, the winter spirit found his eyes watering and breath coming up short. His knees weak, Jack sunk to the forest floor, absently doubling over with both arms wrapped about his middle. Not even his staff could bring relief as Jack pushed it aside for a better grip. His head pressed into the dirt and teeth gritting in a hiss of agony, he barely felt the collective winds brushing up against his cheek. Northern wind attempted to cool him, while South cushioned his heartbeat and East caressed his shot nerves. Westerly danced in a flurry of confusion, unsure what was best to do.

When Jack finally caught his breath, frosty tears stung at his eyes. Grabbing his staff, he pulled himself to a wobbly stand—a gentle push from South helped him regain his balance. "Thanks guys," all too quickly, Jack found himself going from large problem to serious issue. Everything was suddenly going out of focus, becoming blurry and discolored. There was blackness, and lightness, and then, as he took in a deep, ragged breath, the snapping of something inside him. Later, he would remember screaming and collapsing, but never hitting the ground.

The forest shook as the winds spun a cyclone under their beloved little brother. Must keep him safe, must protect; this was their singular thought as they wrapped around him, working together in a rare show of cooperation.

From a distance, as the sun set in an explosion of gold and purple, a cocoon of rainbows could be seen flying swiftly as a midnight bird, their precious cargo resting restlessly between them. Off they sped into the Western horizon, bending trees and tearing grass behind them as they journeyed to the closest help: the hidden Warren of the Easter Bunny.

It was an uncharted island off the coast of Australia, in reality. Cloaked by magic and dusted with fog swirling about, Bunnymund's home had been free of wandering eyes for centuries. It was a place where his gifts to the world were born and raised, painted and primed, and set off into the intricate circuit of tunnels that wove through the Earth to every continent and village above. It was a quiet place, a peaceful place; a place where the winds never, ever fought.

This being the case, Bunny found it more than odd to see black clouds roll over his skies. He'd been resting up under a mulberry tree in one of the great valley's where newborn eggs roamed. Lying there, with arms behind his head, Bunny stared at the dark phenomenon with furrowing brow. It wasn't supposed to rain today, he thought. He would have sworn he hadn't seen rain on the schedule for another four days.

Just then, as he pondered, a crack of thunder as fierce as the Sandman's whip sent the Pooka launching to his feet, boomerangs drawn. There was no rain, but with eyes glued to the sky, Bunny saw something he'd never thought he see. In the peak of the blackness ahead, a cyclone of wind battled with his island's magic, forcing entry upon it. There were cracks and lightning strikes colored like his brightest egg masterpiece.

His eyes went wide as the cyclone pushed through, further and further until it touched down into a tornado over the valley. Squinting against the sheer force of wind shooting off colors and temperatures like weapons, Bunny finally saw it. A figure inside the storm. A flash of blue and white.

Bunnymund's heart leapt into his throat. He only knew one white-haired spirit who could rally all the winds of the earth like this.

Jack Frost.

When he shouted the boy's name and pounced toward the column of wind without fear, the storm simply vanished. All the lights, all the gusts, gone. Bunnymund suddenly found himself standing in the valley with Jack cradled in his arms; the only sound filling his ears being his own harsh breathing and the thump of Jack's staff hitting the ground. Looking up, Bunny's eyes widened at the beautiful blue of the sky.

"Well, I'll be a blimey's uncle…" the rabbit muttered before peering down to the unconscious bundle in his arms.

Instantly Bunny's breath caught. The boy was a sickly grey and warm to the touch. The small streak of blood streaming from his lips stood out in stark contrast against his skin. Silently cursing himself, Bunny realized just what a fool he really was. How could he have missed this?

Barely sparing a glance at his eggling flock, Bunny kicked up boy's staff into his grasp and took off at high speed, holding the young spirit close as he sped through the meadow to his home at the center of the island. He only prayed he wasn't too late.

By the time Bunny reached his den, Jack was beginning to stir. It was just whimpers and short cries at first; incoherent whispers of a child on the brink of consciousness. Forcing himself not to look down, Bunnymund made his way through the borough as smoothly as he could, avoiding stairs and bumps as much as possible, to a cool room deep underground. Pushing open the door with his foot, Bunny couldn't suppress the shiver that stole through him.

He'd only ever used this room to store ice before. Try as he may, he never could get it to warm up. There were no windows, no drafts, just a mystical chill that never subsided. Of course now, it hit him. The room never warms because it wasn't meant to. It was set aside for Jack. MiM plans everything…even the small bed carved of ice in one corner and the light blue pillows and quilt woven with ice crystals covering it.

Bunny sighed: looks like he really didn't have a choice, after all. The Snowflake wasn't goin' anywhere…not that he wanted him to, really.

That's when Bunnymund made his fatal mistake.

He looked down.

TBC...

A/N: Thank you all for reading! The conclusion will be posted Wednesday, 1/16, for your pleasure. Reviews are loved and read with care :)