-chapter thirteen-

Jacqueline

When she saw him next, it was in a cave, craggy rocks arching up and around her. She was sitting on the ground, eyes tracking the shadows that scattered in the gloom. The Wind was outside, dancing in the Sun. She was alone, this Flame, this Storm, this lost Snowflake.

What was she to do? She'd made a promise, she knew, to care for those children who needed it - and she had! Did! Those who called for her, those who called for an idea of her (of Winter, Snow, and Ice, of cold, cruel Wind and avenging flurries) … she went. And if they deserved it, she helped.

As much as she could, that is. Bullies? A little Wind, blue frost and howling, tearing screeches into the air - a feeling of dread to weigh them down, to drag at their limbs.

Oh, they'd learned. Indirectly, she'd shown them how infinitesimal they truly were. She'd made them stop. Did they see her? Those she helped, those she struck fear into?

No.

They didn't believe. Would probably never believe … but maybe … maybe it was a start. There'd been whispers, she knew, of an angel of fire and ice, of Wind and Sun.

Jacqueline kept her promises. Always.

She's made Winter's Spring - had freed the souls so that they could be born again. Fulfilled her duty, her vow, her conscience.

It was done, and so she sat, absently tracing patterns onto the floor.

Until he came.

She didn't expect it - expect him.

"So," he said gruffly, and she leaned her head back against the cave wall. Waited. He shifted from foot to foot. A determined gleam entered his eyes, and she watched, curious, as he shoved a hand outwards in greeting.

She stood. Took his hand and shook it slowly, skin against fur, soft brushing soft.

"My name is E. Aster Bunnymund, and ah wanted tah say 'ello," he continued, green capturing her own stormy silver, "and get tah know you."

It was an olive branch, extended and without the cobwebs of the past. An apology, perhaps, in the way he had asked to learn of her; his judgement was absent, his courtroom abandoned.

Jackie breathed in, out. Lifted her head. "What does it stand for?" she asked, the question cloaked and steeped in meaning.

He started. "Pardon?" How awfully polite.

"The "E"" - she gestured - "in your name. What is it?"

There was silence as he assessed her. He knew what she was asking, what she was dissecting. Was this a truce? Does he mean it? Is he truly apologising? Have they forgotten? It was questions bundled together, tangled with the past and the future, the present twining around it all, constricting. It was her asking him if this was it. If they -

"Emarolle," he told her, whiskers twitching with embarrassment; though he held his head high, orbs boring into her. Determined.

She nodded, smiling gently. She extended her own hand, and he gripped it as she said, "Jacqueline Frost - Jackie," she corrected. His paw was warm, and the strands of silky hair tickled her.

He grinned, flashing white teeth. "Nice tah meet you."

And she, rather surprised, replied, "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

Thirteen weeks later

She'd yet to meet the other Guardians. It wasn't that she didn't want to, or was afraid to see them (which, she could admit, she kind of was), but that the Wind refused to let her.

It didn't bother Jackie as much as it should, the confines Wind had placed on her. It was her mother, after all, and the feeling of being looked after and cared for was far more important than more time to do what she pleased - three hundred and odd years had been enough for that.

When Emarolle - as she insisted on calling him; it was far more annoying to him than the "Kangaroo" name she'd once made the error of labelling him as; besides, it reminded him and her that it was a fresh start, this friendship of theirs - came to her one evening, dodging the Wind's cruel breath and the Sun's scorching gaze, a smile upturning his lips, she'd been ecstatic.

Here was her friend, who'd snuck away from the Guardians.

Here was her friend, who'd pleaded with Wind for hours for But a moment; to know.

Here was her friend, who hadn't asked her of her past; of why her eyes were more shadow than light.

Her friend, who knew her solitude and had, as Oath to the Sun, renounced Moon and claimed himself as the Last Pooka, his own Keeper, his own Spirit.

Her friend, who'd approached her besides the danger. She still wondered why sometimes; she'd not yet had the courage to ask.

Her friend … had chosen her - Jacqueline - over the Guardians.

("Bunny! Where are you going?")

("Nowhere. Don't worry," he'd always say.)

("Bunny?")

("Bunny … ?")

He was more hers than theirs now, and she felt a sort of guilty pleasure for that. A living being, filled with blood and bone, flesh and sinew, had chosen her. (Her.)

It made her feel … alive. Utterly alive (ALIVE!).

So when he stood before her, gnawing his lip and twisting his paw, she'd tugged on his arm, drew him closer. Hugged him, as he had first hugged her all those weeks ago (her first of flesh)(of life)(of hearts and spirits).

"What's wrong?" she whispered.

He slumped against her, dwarfing her. She struggled beneath his weight and twisted until they were both comfortable enough; both quietly watching the expanse of frozen lake before them.

Eventually, he said, "It's … "

"Yes?" she prodded, shifting closer (craving that kind touch even now; no longer fearing his vibrant green eyes. It'd always been Wind who'd disapproved of him, who worried. But she? Jacqueline? Flame knew no control … it only hungered. Thirsted for a single breath of air).

He was her air.

"Pitch."

She turned away from his soft eyes, filled with understanding and such great sorrow at what he'd done. What he'd done to her.

("It's not okay, Jackie!" he'd spat. "I - ignored - you for three hundred years!" he'd thundered, sweeping his arm wide. "I - "

She'd spun round angrily, a mistress clothed in ice, her face set in a fierce, aching scowl. "You what?" she'd yelled. "Did you lie to me when you said you and Tooth doubted the other Guardians? When you thought 'Jack Frost' was more than a mere devil's child? DID YOU LIE?" she'd screeched, voice throbbing; heart throbbing … everything … aching …

Emarolle had turned shocked eyes on the Winter Spirit. "No!" he'd denied, mouth agape with horror.

She'd scrubbed her face. "Then stop apologising. All it serves is to remind me of the agony of it all. Stop hurting me the way you are. Your guilt … it is not my burden. So … stop" - she'd hissed through clenched teeth - "making it my problem."

And she'd left.

And that time? He'd chased after her and said - not sorry - but Hello.

She, rather hysterically, had greeted him back. "Hi.")

"Pitch?" she murmured.

He huffed a breath, cracking his neck and shifting in his pillow of snow. He tugged her closer. She couldn't help but smile, even after all these weeks.

("You're my best friend."

"Same."

"Good, then.")

"He's gathering Nightmares, amassing his army." Emarolle swallowed. "After last time …" he began, and she shushed him. She knew. Knew of his family, the screams which had split the air. The roars of rage, of bellowing despair.

"I know," she murmured. "What do you think is happening? The children?" she wondered.

He laughed bitterly. "What else, when it comes to Pitch?"

She knew that tone. Whenever he was upset, worried or frightened, his accent would smooth out; voice become free of inflections. It became … defined.

"I'm so sorry," Jackie said softly, as if any louder would shatter the dream-like state the two of them had fallen into.

His heart stuttered; she heard it from where her head rested against his chest. Abruptly, the tenseness leaked from his form. He relaxed. "Yer're mah family now, Jacqueline Frost."

She shoved her smile into his stomach, and, as long ago when he'd said You're my best friend, she replied, "Same."

She felt his quiet laugh. "Good, then."

Jacqueline needn't ask Why he approached Wind all that time ago; not anymore. Why he wanted to talk to her.

She already knew.

They were (one of a kind) the same.

Q&A:

"JOKERS14": Sun recognises that all the Guardians and Pitch are Moon's children; however, Pitch is the only one who is actively working for Moon. The others are only puppets, unaware of their Father's malevolent ways.

"pearpie": It's okay. I didn't expect to get that many reviews; I was just frustrated at the lack of them and so I used extreme methods.

"TrustyFoxy": I will definitely use your suggestion. :)

"KeinVixenheim": I check total reviews, not reviews per person. So, sure. Go ahead. :P

THANK YOU to everyone who took the time to review. We didn't reach my goal, but it's okay because I love you guys. I even wrote a longer chapter for you. (And I'm in Grade 11 now - eek!) Also, I have no beta, so sorry if there are mistakes. I usually don't make massive errors, but you know what they say about self-editing ...

Questions? Suggestions?

Do you like that Bunny and Jackie are friends now?

Please review!