1. Lost Love

Jack could never quite get over how cozy Santoff Clausen was. It wasn't that it wasn't comfortable or welcoming; it was just that Jack felt too much so when he visited. North welcomed him with wide, open arms, insisting on greeting him with the biggest hug Jack ever received (and it seemed like they got bigger and longer each time). Cookies and gingerbread and treats of all sorts would be thrust upon him, though he took them readily and willingly. The yetis would roll their eyes but continue about their work. They didn't seem to mind Jack all that much, even when he persisted in interrupting them.

Of course, Phil was the exception to that. Phil would chase him to the ends of the North Pole and back again when he caught Jack interfering. It was all in good fun, though; North would laugh with much vigor when Jack retold his fierce and narrow escape. In a way, North was like a father to Jack.

Except Jack already had a father. And so, after realizing just how his relationship with the man was developing, Jack would pull his hood over his downtrodden eyes and allow the wind to take him to somewhere that would lift his spirits, leaving his spoils behind him.

Sometimes Jack found himself in the Warren, annoying the pooka during his on-season and watching him design elaborate egg murals during his off. He'd nab one of Bunny's carrots, or two or three if he was lucky. Other times Jack would be in Tooth's Palace, playing with the tiny, love-struck fairies, despite how busy they were, or he'd converse with Tooth about his latest ice creations while she dogged between him and her duties. The fairies enjoyed cheese and raisins, to Jack's surprise – and they refused to let him leave until he'd eaten a good lot of it.

But in both places, though they were equally welcoming, Jack felt he was intruding. So, more often than not, he would slip away once more with the wind, not even bothering to say good-bye. He figured that they were busy enough without his presence.

Jack did not know if Sandy had a home where he rested, or a headquarters where he stayed when he was not out in the field, but the Sandman made a point to find him each night. Jack stayed up just to see him work in Burgess. He'd always thought that his sand was beautiful, each creation unique to each child they visited. It was truly awesome to watch from afar.

And in that right Jack considered himself lucky to be able to sit right next to the little man as he weaved his magic across the town. Though Sandy did not speak and made symbols only slightly more often, Jack found his mere presence a comfort and a solace.

But, of course, in this situation Jack also felt as though he were intruding. He felt that in his heart, it was wrong to watch something so magical and wondrous from so close for so long. He always bade the man farewell before he'd completed his work in the town, and in response Sandy made sure to bring Jack good dreams as well.

Jack never felt as if he had a home. The lake was probably the closest thing to it – but he had no bed to sleep upon, no large and burly (or small and cutesy) companions to keep his company, not even a place to dine. Of course, the lake could not be his home, even if it did have such things; it still reminded him strongly of his death and his memories of life, and so Jack would not be able to take staying there for very long.

Besides, Jack was quite busy during his season, so much so that he might stay away for nights or even weeks or months. Everywhere needed a good frost, he thought, and everyone loved a good snow day.

(Though, to Jack's surprise, the Sandman managed to find him no matter what nook or cranny of the world he decided to crash in. The guy deserved some props for that.)

But one night, Sandy didn't come. It confused Jack, as he stood in Burgess with only the stars and the moon for company, staring at the horizon as he munched on whatever food he'd managed to gather that day. Where was he? What was taking him so long? He was usually here by now—

And then, he saw it. Not the Sandman, no, but the unnatural aurora as it stretched across the sky. He stared at it, unsure for only a moment – but the next the wind swept him into the air, escorting him to the North Pole.

At this moment, the Winter Spirit was the epitome of solemnity. Snowballs and fun times would have to wait. What if this was about Pitch? Had the Nightmare King returned? The thought sent shivers down Jack's spine – and it took a lot to do that. Though Jack had loathed the man, he'd also sympathized with and pitied him. It had made Pitch a far more challenging enemy than Jack would care to admit.

When Jack arrived at North's workshop, he could feel the tension in the air. Just standing outside the door filled him with a sense of foreboding. He wasn't quite sure what exactly it was that he was dreading, but whatever the case Jack did not knock on the door or ring its old-fashioned doorbell. Instead, Jack decided it might be best to take an old path inside, one of the many routes he'd attempted when he was forbidden from entering the place.

The wind pushed open the windows of one of the guest rooms for him; Jack felt a rush of gratitude toward the spirit, and nodded once. It let out a small, whispered moan, before it left, knowing it would be more a hindrance than a companion when on a mission that required stealth.

Jack opened the door just a crack. Peering out, he saw no one – not even a yeti, to his surprise – and he slipped through, closing it shut behind him as quiet as a mouse. Not a soul in sight. He listened, straining his ears, but Jack couldn't hear the sound of the yetis working, not the bang of a hammer or a single footstep. He didn't even hear the jingle of an elf's hat as it tumbled about.

Oh, yeah. Something was wrong, all right. Jack held his staff up as if it were a lance, and as his bare feet padded against the carpeted, wood floor, frost followed him.

He made his way toward the only place he could think they all would be – the Globe, which had served as a meeting place during the conflict with Pitch. Knowing that the lift would be far too noisy, he decided not to call it back up. Instead he created a ladder out of frost, growing it the further down he went.

"I'm still confused!" Jack heard a thick Australian accent shouting at the top of its lungs. "How does this man, who ain't even on our side, claim to know Jack better than we do?!"

Jack's heart sank into his stomach as he landed softly on the top of the lift. Oh, no, he thought to himself. This was about him.

"I've told you, Bunny," North was saying, but Jack couldn't bear to turn around – they hadn't noticed him yet, and he was still facing the ladder. "Pitch is fear. Pitch knows all fear. Even Jack's."

"Right," Tooth said, though she sounded suspicious. "But how do we know he isn't lying to try to get our guard down? Maybe what he wanted to do was gather us all in one place."

His face felt hot, and his head pounded. What did Pitch know? What had Pitch said to them? They wouldn't… North wouldn't listen to whatever Pitch said about him, would he?

"But think," North urged them, and Jack could almost see the man's arms moving emphatically as his voice did. "Jack has no kitchen to make food, Jack has no way to grow his own. It is good – what is word – it is good way to think that he has no other way to live. When one lives like that…"

They know. Suddenly Jack felt his stomach flip, and with it came such an intense wave of nausea that he felt to his knees, covering his mouth in an effort to keep down what little food he'd eaten that day. They know, they know, and they'll kick him out, they'll make him an ex-Guardian for doing this to the children—

"Thank you, North." A familiar voice rang throughout the room, cutting through Jack's thoughts like a steak knife through fat; it was jagged, and it drained his attention to it more than called it. The wind caught in his throat, and after a moment of hesitation – struggling to comprehend who its owner was – but now he stood, quick in fright but weak from nausea, and he turned toward the Globe.

There, Pitch stood among his friends, staring straight at Jack.

"But why don't you all discover the truth firsthand?"

Jack's heart stopped. The Guardians, too, turned, following Pitch's gaze. Though it hurt him to, Jack met North's gaze, the same shade of blue as his own, and his heart sank – but it was beating again now.

Pitch had sensed his fear, Jack realized suddenly; Pitch had felt the sudden twist of his gut. That had given him away.

"Jack," North began.

Jack had to run. Jack stumbled backwards, into the wall, feeling cornered only for a split second – and then he remembered the ladder.

Damn the wind for leaving him.

He began to climb quickly, blindly, feeling it melt beneath his grip – he hadn't intended it to last long, but he couldn't afford the concentration to keep it intact – and he ignored the calls of the Guardians. Pitch had told them something, though Jack didn't know what exactly, and he didn't even know how Pitch was still alive after they'd utterly obliterated him—

Just as Jack made it to the top, he heard the lift beginning to activate. Agh, nuts, he'd forgotten about that godforsaken thing! Whatever – it wasn't going to be enough to stop him! He threw all of his strength into dashing through the yetis' workshop.

When Tooth landed in front of him, he nearly crashed into her, yelping and screeching to a stop, friction succeeding moments before impact. He couldn't bring himself to look at her face, and instead looked anywhere but, searching for an alternate method of escape.

He could hear Bunnymund, North, and the Sandman as they approached from behind – and Pitch was likely among them. Jack closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and waited for reproach.

It never came.

Before Jack could completely comprehend what was happening, Tooth had wrapped her arms around him tightly. His eyes flashed open at the contact, and his first instinct was to tell her to stop, she was going to freeze if she stayed this close for too long—

But then Bunny placed a firm paw on his shoulder, and North picked all three of them up at once, squishing them into the biggest hug Jack had received yet. He turned and looked at each of them individually, confused beyond belief, and he glanced over at the Sandman, who stood next to Pitch.

Sandy winked. Pitch looked over the scene with an emotion Jack was unsure of. It wasn't loathing, or disdain, or conceit. It was something… that Jack couldn't place. What…

Was it pity?

Something flared in Jack's stomach, something fierce and ice cold as he glanced back at his companions. "Are you all pitying me?" he demanded, shaking. The last thing he needed was to be insulted like this!

But North shook his head. "No, Jack," he assured, a small, solemn smile on his face. "We worry about you. Come to Santoff Clausen anytime you are hungry."

"Or to the Tooth Palace!" Tooth added hurriedly, almost cutting off the Russian. "Really, we have lots of good foods, and they won't give you cavities like North's sweets will! You'll have your fill, I promise!"

"I got tons o' carrots at the Warren, anyway," Bunnymund said off-handedly, though he had an odd sort of half-smile on his face. "Take some whenever you like."

"And we will always be glad to house you," North said as almost an afterthought. "Our homes are always open. All of ours."

Once again Jack examined each of their faces individually. Each of them looked sincere – Sandy grinned and gave him a thumbs-up, created out of his dreamsand. Pitch had averted his gaze, but he did not object.

"Wait." Jack winced, ran a hand through his hair. "Wait, hang on, slow down for a second. What is Pitch…"

"How do you think they found out?" Pitch scoffed, his voice filled with the same loathing, disdain and conceit Jack still didn't see on his face. "I am so aware of fear that it eats away at me, boy; yours is no different. When I felt your fear of starvation – well, there had to be a reason behind that."

North nodded, walking over and putting a hand on Pitch's shoulder. "And for coming to me, we all thank you," he said, far more serious than Jack had ever seen him. "I wish I could make up to you."

Pitch scoffed again, his nose wrinkled in disgust. "Oh, please. Don't say that as if you hadn't thought I was human. I don't like the idea of the Winter Spirit biting the dust, and all of you weren't taking your jobs as 'Guardians' seriously. I just did what I had to do."

Then he detached himself from North, brushing himself off. "If any of these morons fail you again, Jack, you may step into my lair with the same offering." Pitch scowled. "But only then. Understand?"

And Jack did. He could feel how Pitch, whose narcissism prevented him from showing any more of his concern, was not saying it lightly.

Jack had never felt more loved, in all that he could remember. His eyes began to water, the tears freezing as they always did, and he let out a small laugh.

"Yeah. I understand."

The Guardians all felt a surge of warmth; North swung an arm around Jack and led him to the kitchen, where the yetis and elves had been preparing one of North's largest feasts. They all followed, happier than they had been in years – for they were now able to make up for the years and years of their ignorance.

Except, of course, for the Nightmare King, who watched them all leave. Only the Sandman turned, wondering what kept him, but by then it was too late; Pitch had left, becoming one with the shadows, perhaps never to appear again.

Jack inquired later, between mouthfuls of cranberry sauce and stuffed turkey, where exactly the man had gone. No one knew the answer, but Sandman explained to him that Pitch was just as busy as they all were.

There was much fear in the world, after all – much fear that Pitch was to ensure the children learned from. Just as Jack had.

And that answer had lifted Jack's heart. Pitch was no longer a villain. Unpleasant, perhaps, but not a villain.

The fact that Pitch, too, had overcome his fears, left Jack feeling full and warm long after the meal had ended.

Elsa's Note: This started out as "ohh I'm going to make a fic about North and Jack oh yes it will be beautiful fatherly-sonly love oh oh yes". And … it ended up as "Pitch is actually a good guy don't let his kuudere outside fool you".

I don't know. I really don't. But I think it turned out decent nonetheless! QAQ; So please remember: all reviews are appreciated! (Also, this will be updated frequently, so check back with us often!)