Obviously I saw Rise of the Guardians and obviously I love Jack Frost. And because I love him I decided to make the most depressing oneshot I could. Because of feels.

Also, though it's told in second person, it's not a reader fix, because God, I hate those. No, this is all addressed to his sister as if he could speak to her.

Warnings: may be OOC, and crappy. Contains spoilers and is set right before Jamie knocks his tooth out. So yeah.

"The Last Semblance of Warmth"

"My name is Jack Frost. How do I know? The Man on the Moon told me."

I thought for sure you'd see me.

That first night, the loneliest night, I wandered without a cause, no sense of direction.

Do you know what it's like to have someone just walk right through you as if you weren't there?

It's like being thrown out of arrangement, like every part of your body is gone. You can't feel it.

And suddenly you're back, with only the reminder that no one could see you.

I didn't know why no one could see me. I didn't understand.

When I saw you, I didn't know who you were. All I felt was this yearning, this need to be with you, to protect you.

To be your guardian.

I didn't understand that word at the time. All I knew was that you were there, and that I had to at least try. One day, I vowed, I'd make you see me.

You were crying so, so hard. I wished I could have comforted you.

All I could do was make you colder. You shivered, inching further and further away when I just wanted to be closer.

You looked so small, so fragile. You were mourning, but over whom? Why were you so sad?

At that moment, I vowed to not leave your side. I'd watch, from afar. And I'd dream that one day, you'd see me too.

For the longest time you didn't smile. I never understood why; you seemed to have so much warmth and love surrounding you. Parents who adored you. Friends who could aid your every endeavor.

I brought coldness and misery. Even you could not go near me.

Too cold, you complained. I've been so cold lately…

Even still, I tried. Even still, I tried to show you the signs to make you see. But you would not. Frosted windows earned a curtain shielding my face. A gust of wind made you bundle up more.

Oh, how you hated the cold. But it was all I could ever give you.

I tried to make a game out of it, to make you look up, to make you smile.

No such luck. Even still, I never gave up. One day you would see me, know who I was.

I followed you whenever I could, despite the weather. I bore through every warm month just to be near you.

Hell, I told myself. Agonizing hell. But I would always be there for you.

On the same night every year, you went to that one place, in eerie silence. Each year, you left a single flower, tears silently streaming down your cheeks.

Who were they? I asked, to anyone who knew and was listening. Why does this place make her sad?

I was born here. The first time I saw the Moon was here.

Who is she? I screamed up to the Man on the Moon. Why can she not see me? Why do I want to protect her?

It said nothing. I just watched you turn your back on the ice and slowly trudge back home through the powdery snow.

I first saw you smile when you met him.

At first I couldn't help but feel envious. Why did he deserve your attention? He didn't even know you. Why should he make you smile in one hour of his presence even though I watched you far longer?

But your smile. I'd never felt so complete before. Though I knew you couldn't see me, you were looking right at me.

I'd like to think that smile was meant for me.

Because when I first saw your lips curl up for the first time, I felt warm. And not in the hellish manner that I was so used to.

No, this warmth erupted in my core, and for the first time, I felt complete.

After that, when you began to spend more time with him, you smiled more.

But it was nothing like that first time. Nothing could compare to that beauty.

Oh, how horridly jealous I was of him. Why I couldn't be the one to make you smile like that almost shattered me. For nights I pondered why I was unlucky enough to never be able to touch or talk to you. For nights I kept asking the Moon why?—and all I received in return was torturous silence.

But you were happy.

For the first time, I couldn't see you because I was so blinded by my own rage and emotion.

Why should I cause him misery when clearly you couldn't be more ecstatic? Why did he deserve any pain at all?

So from then on, the harsh snowstorms stopped. From then on, I made sure the atmosphere was perfect whenever you were with him. You deserved him.

You didn't deserve me. I just thought you did.

I was there when he asked you to be his.

I was there when you exchanged your vows.

You never went back to that one place, on the ice. You hadn't cried since you met him.

So if you were happy, I'd find a way to be happy, too.

Despite being as lonely as sin, I felt some sort of content whenever I was near you. As time passed, you didn't mind the cold as much.

I'd like to think he had nothing to do with it.

I didn't age, but you did.

Every year I'd look for a sign, some sort of semblance that something about myself had grown. But as you grew taller and more beautiful, I simply stayed right where I was.

Part of me wished I could grow older, like you. Because as you grew older, as you spent your days with him, I knew there was some end that was inevitable. It'd happened to your parents.

It happened to your brother, you told him, so very long ago. You never liked to talk about him.

It angered me that one day you would go and I wouldn't be able to do anything about it. All I could do was watch, wait. As you aged, I continued to try and make you believe in me. I tried to get you to see me before your end.

I would scream, cry out for anything that would turn your head.

No one could hear me. Least of all, you.

His name was Jackson.

You finally told him about your brother, the one who fell into the frozen lake years ago.

That was why you were sad to go there.

That was why you cried that day, and days after that until you met him.

But when you told him about your brother, you didn't cry like I thought you would. There was only so much pain you could take; finally it was numb and null. Finally you let go of him, after all these years.

They couldn't find his body, you told him. In a way, I feel more closure. A part of me would have hated to see him not smiling, not having fun like he always did until the end. Everything was a game. And it saved my life—at the cost of his.

I'd never heard anything so touching before. I wish I'd known him, so I could thank him for making you smile.

She looked just like you.

Nothing could possibly make me happier than a winter baby. Winter, the season of death, could be renewed by birth.

It gave me hope.

She had your nose and lips, your hair color and eyes.

But you said she looked just like your brother.

I wished I knew what he looked like, because I wanted to know—did she look just like him instead of you? Was she not the splitting image of her mother, but her deceased uncle?

I wish I knew.

You named her after him. Your husband was okay with that, finding the name appropriate.

I just watched from a frosted window, smiling over at her.

I swear she looked right at me. I wished you did, too.

I watched her take her first steps.

I watched her speak her first words.

I was there when she skated on that lake for the first time. You were so hesitant to see her go, but I was there to make sure she'd never fall or falter. I made sure to watch over her, the way I'd watched over you through the years.

You were an adult and she was a child. Now she was the one who needed protection, who needed me to guide her. And I would.

And I did.

Through the agonizing summers, and the wonderful winters, I made sure she stayed safe. Though she couldn't see me, I played with her.

The smile on her face was comparable to yours.

Still, every day you told her just how much she looked like your brother.

Every day my curiosity grew. Just what did he look like? The question kept haunting me.

Who was he? I asked.

As usual, no reply.

Before I knew it, your hair had gone white and Jackson had grown into a beautiful young woman.

Even still I did not age.

I watched from those frosted windows as you lay there in your warm bed, your family comforting you.

He had gone before you had. You cried for days on end about his death; however, the cries were not as passionate as the cries from your brother's death.

Why was that?

I watched as your daughter fed you, cared for you in ways I never could.

Just like him.

And just like your brother.

All I could do was watch you slowly die before my eyes.

Why can't I do anything? Why am I so helpless?

All I could do was watch.

It happened right before the turn of the New Year.

It started just like every other day. You were warm in bed while I was confined to the frosted windows, watching.

She came in and served you tea. You drank it slowly, smiling.

Slowly you took her hand in a frail, wrinkled one.

You look just like him. Oh, God, I wished you'd known him as I did.

Nodding, she smiled and squeezed your hand. I feel like I did, Mother. Sometimes, I feel that mischief in the wind.

And though the smile was weak, you never let it falter. So do I, dear. So do I. And soon I will go back to him…

With that, you fell asleep. You never woke up again.

The funeral was small, aided by only select friends and family that'd visited you over the years.

Everyone who'd known you.

Even me, even though you could never see me.

There were times, though, when I could swear you smiled at me. Times when I swore you saw me. Those were the times that I allowed warmth in, times when I felt that warmth wasn't agonizing like in the summer, but rather comforting.

Even I cried, though tears seemed foreign and they froze quickly. I would never see you again.

I vowed to still watch over Jackson, though, despite the fact that she found a lover. I would watch over her children, her grandchildren, and every other child that came down the line over the years.

I would protect them, even if they couldn't see me.

I would play with them, even if they couldn't play back.

At your grave, after everyone had left, I left my shawl on the fresh fallen snow, as a reminder that I'd always been there for you.

I hoped you were with your brother, happy and out of pain for the rest of eternity.

I hoped that wherever you were, you could see him again.

After three hundred years I kept that promise. I watched the town grow. I watched your grandchildren grow. I watched as your line expanded down the line until present day.

Your descendants, Jamie and Sophia, kept me busy through each winter. They'd learned who I was. Still, though I played with them as often as I could, they could not see me.

Jamie looks just like you. I see your spirit within him. Sometimes I wonder if maybe you are him reincarnated.

Sometimes.

Because Jamie can see things most people can't. He believes in the unknown, of what others refuse to see.

Oh, if only you were here, you would love him.

It makes me wonder, though—does he look like your brother?

And will he ever believe in me?

One day, I vowed. One day…

I hold on to that wish. One day he will see me. And if not him, then someone, anyone down your line of family.

One day I will feel that last shred of warmth that is comparable to your smile once again.

Short. Ironic as all fuck. Probably horrid, but hey, what are you going to do.

And I know girls named Jackson, so don't accuse me for giving Jack's niece his name.

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