Jack Frost was many things. Trickster and prankster were traits at the top of a long list of qualities that made up his personality. He was juvenile, caring, protective, and at the very core of his being: a child. Of course, he never considered himself a child and absolutely hated whenever someone referred to him as such. Granted, he tended to act in a rather immature manner, enjoyed playing with children (even if they never saw him) and playing with whatever toys he could get his hands on – but that didn't prove anything! In his opinion.

And, as the child he so firmly denied that he was, Jack believed. Not in the traditional way that most children held onto belief, but still as strong as any other believer.

He believed – hoped and dreamed – that one day he would be seen, receive a present from Santa, have companionship. They were what kept him going through the cold isolated nights that tore at his heart. At the center of his hopes and dreams was a belief so woven into his being that he was unaware of its existence: that someone cared for him, and would protect him. His knowledge of the Guardians fueled that belief, no matter how much they ignored him or—in the Easter Bunny's case – screamed at him.

When Jack was taken (kidnapped) to the North Pole and invited into the Guardians, it was the closest to a dream come true that he could ever imagine. He finally, finally had people to talk to who would talk back; people who would protect him, from their arch enemy at the very least. And for a few days, everything was….perfect.

And then came Easter.

He knew they had a right to cast him away, but it didn't make their abandonment any easier. It crushed him, made it nearly impossible to breathe. He'd been so close, so close….. But he'd gone a screwed everything up. And being alone was the lightest punishment he deserved.

Pitch's offer nearly brought him to his knees. 'A family'. All he'd ever dreamed of dangled in front of him, and he'd wanted it so badly; wanted to believe the Boogeyman was telling the truth. But then Pitch had gone on his manic 'take over the world' speech, and Jack had quickly snapped out of his dreaming. He'd turned the older spirit down flat, ignoring the look of hurt that was much too familiar.

Which is how he ended up at the bottom of a crevasse in the middle of the Artic. He curled up into a tight ball against the wall of the crevasse, the pain from his broken staff making him light headed. He was frightened, hurt, trapped with his only friend – who would soon freeze to death in such inhospitable temperatures – and no one was coming for him. The harsh reality full settled over him; no one was coming. No one cared.

On the other side of the world, North's yetis stood staring in growing dread as lights went out by the handful, only shuffling back to their work when Phil shooed them one noticed the small blue light at the bottom of the globe. A small light that had graced the iron globe for
over 300 years, granting power to the Guardians that neither party was aware
of. For a moment in flickered and then
blinked from existence.