Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Summer's herald
Summer had come early. Cicadas rattling in the afternoon heat and the distant shouts of happy children splashing in the community pool were its herald. Just two months after an unusually frigid Good Friday, the people of Burgess were already in shorts and flip-flops. However, perched high up on a telephone pole was a boy in a hooded sweatshirt. His face and hands were blue with cold and his eyelashes glazed with frost. For him, summer meant only another long stretch until winter, his season, could come out to play again... but that didn’t mean he had to stay away completely.
The boy stared heavenward and hopped off the telephone pole into the air.
Jack smiled. He was feeling pretty good despite the stifling heat. In the weeks since his extraordinary journey from Jack Frost the Miscreant to Jack the Guardian, things had changed surprisingly little, but that little was for the better. Whereas once he had gone unheeded by the people around him, now children would look skyward and stare, slack-jawed and awestruck before he’d disappear with a wink and the nip of a chilly breeze. He now felt fiercely protective of the pairs of little eyes that saw him below, and as he made his rounds from city to city he was ever vigilant for the slightest shadow or wisp of darkened sand.
But so far, so good. There had been no sign of Pitch, or any of the terrors who followed in the nightmare king’s wake. Jack crossed his arms behind his head and drifted on his back for a moment, staring up at the clouds as they turned colors in the waning afternoon light. He closed his eyes and let the wind carry him, just happy to be alive. When he opened them, he was nose to beak with a familiar tiny face. It startled him so much that he yelped in surprise and fell out of the sky, catching himself only just before he dented in the roof of a passing car.
“BabyTooth... seriously when are you gonna stop doing that?!” he chided.
The tiny jeweled sprite flicked and flitted, her feathers resplendent in the light. She nuzzled into his cheek affectionately, peeping all the while. Jack rolled his eyes but kept his good natured smile, finding it hard to rebuke her gushing display — Tooth would be mad if she found out he was ‘encouraging’ her fairies, which meant, of course, he was more likely to let it slide.
He came to a stop atop a high signal tower, and sat on the hook of his staff, cross-legged. He held out a finger for the tiny fairy. BabyTooth alighted upon it, panting, glad for the relief of Jack’s chilly body. “You’re out kind of early, aren’t you? Summer, daylight savings time and all that. Those kids’ heads won’t be hitting the pillows for hours yet....”
BabyTooth chirruped and fanned her tiny wings, reaching into the downy feathers at her chest and pulling out a rolled up parchment, barely the size of Jack’s pinky nail. She held it out to him expectantly, her little eyes sparkling. Jack took the tiny paper gingerly, careful not to crush it. To his surprise, as soon as he touched it, it grew to four times its normal size and sprung open on it’s own. Whatever magic that helped these tiny fairies transport dozens and dozens of teeth and quarters every night seemed to come in pretty handy. BabyTooth settled on his shoulder and enjoyed the chill radiating off his body while Jack read.
Jack!
Here’s hoping my fairy finds you well! You better not be encouraging her! YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
I know it’s been awhile since you’ve heard from me, or anyone else for that matter, and by now I’m sure you’ve discovered that the life of a guardian can be lonely and busy. It’s not always like that! Sometimes we forget how long we’ve done this, and how strange and new it must be for you. That’s why I want to cordially invite you to a party in the warren; we want you to be our very first guest of honor. Bunny’s promised to cook, and North says he’s been working on a surprise, and if you know North, you know that means something big.
I have a favor to ask you: please poke ‘His Nocturnal Magnificence’ on your way, as he’s been very hard to track lately. You’d think we’d cross paths, but I guess he’s working harder than usual.
Incisors and cuspids!
-Toothiana
Jack laughed at Tooth’s sweetly familiar tone and weird little terms of endearment at the end. I guess this is what it feels like to be a part of something, to be important to someone.
He reread the note a second time then hopped up, balancing on his toes at the tip of the staff. “Well Baby, I better not keep them waiting. Guest of honor, after all! And it seems I’ve got a sandman to wrangle.” He grinned and tickled the tiny fairy under the chin, then dropped out of the sky on a zephyr, leaving BabyTooth to swoon in his chilly wake.
------
Jack felt a tingle of excitement. Since the battle with Pitch, he had found himself in the other Guardian’s realms once or twice, but Sandy’s ship was still uncharted territory. In theory, he knew where to go — high above the surface, just at the point where the sky darkened to permanent twilight, where the clouds rolled like waves and the echoes of the world below became a lullaby. You couldn't find it by traveling in one of the cardinal directions, or to any fixed point in the sky. The Sandman's domain was always just where it needed to be.
As Jack ascended he scanned the horizon, squinting into the falling darkness. Then, bright as a burnished star, the ship drifted lazily into view, it’s scalloped surface shifting and molding like dunes on a windswept beach. It was a breathtaking sight, like a strange golden whale swimming in a lonely cloudy sea. Just looking at it made Jack feel a dozy peacefulness, a desire to set down his staff and see if one of these clouds would make a comfy pillow for a nap, just for a few seconds — but first... his job. Shaking his head to clear it, he blinked a few times and approached the ship, landing on it’s deck with a puff of powdery sand.
The deck was empty, as he expected it would be. Tooth, Bunny and North had their attending sprites and elves, but Sandy (much like Jack himself) worked alone; the only companionship he had was the light of the stars and the smiling face of the moon above. From somewhere in the ship music was playing, music that Jack recognized as being from a long, long time ago — a warm crackly sound that would only come from old vinyl. The sandman had been a guardian for a long time; he must have learned a thing or two about popular music, even developed some favorites.
“Sandy?” Jack called tentatively. There was no response.
Summoning the wind, Jack somersaulted over the bow until he was level with one of the many portholes on the ship’s flank. He slipped through it easily into a hallway lined with doorways, some open. He peered into the sleep darkened rooms where little yellow nightlights flickered and glowed like stars. It was a little unsettling, but he supposed that perhaps this was how Sandy had wanted his realm — secretive, silent... Just like himself.
He marveled at the ship’s intricate design as he searched. He had only heard fragments of the stories of the Golden Age, and then only in tiny snippets from his fellow Guardians, but he was beginning to understand why they spoke of the Golden Age so fondly. All around him the ship was decorated in rich tapestries and glowing paintings depicting men and women and creatures that defied description. They all had a polished, regal look to them, and their clothes were strewn with jewels and precious metals. They were walking in unfamiliar landscapes of ringed planets and shooting stars, holding brass instruments like telescopes and compasses. Despite their splendor, something about their eyes made him very sad — a dullness in them, or the reflections of places and people who would never exist again. He reminded himself to ask Sandy about these someday, when he had enough time and patience to decipher the little sandman’s peculiar way of communication.
Jack continued down the hall to a large open room and peeked around a sand pillar, the surface of the imposing structure crumbling away in his hand as he rested his palm on it. He furrowed his brow and looked up to the ceiling, uncomprehending of what he saw. As the sand moved and swirled in perpetual motion, cracks would spring into view in the golden surfaces of the ship around him, patches of grey blooming like stains here and there, only to be consumed as the sands shifted.
Venturing to the front of the ship brought him to the navigation room, where he hoped his little friend, and answers, could be found. The navigation room had once been the cockpit of Sandy’s starship before it had been transformed by it’s plunge into the ocean. It was made of sand like the rest of the ship, and the grains glittered and shifted as if the walls were fluid. There was an amazing collection of objects, storybooks in all languages, pearly mouthed seashells,wind up toys, tubes of watercolors, things that the sandman had gathered as inspiration for the dreams he would send children as they slept. In the far wall were recessed shelves which held thick leather-bound books of star charts and maps of universes that no one would ever see, lost with the memory of the Golden Age. A large astrolabe hulked in a corner, glittering with gold dust and spinning slowly.
Jack passed by an ancient phonograph which was the source of the music, it’s big brass ear lovingly polished. Despite the clutter and eclectica, the room was quite spacious and fresh with a wide window in front boasting a spectacular view of the purple evening sky, heaped high with orange clouds. In the breaks between the plump cumulonimbus, he could see the city lights far down below.
Touching down lightly, he chuckled as he sunk knee deep in embroidered goose down pillows, each as big as his he was and three times as wide. Soft blankets were strewn across the cushy floor to complete the unequivocally cozy feel. A muffled sound drew his attention to his feet, and he reached down to pick up a stray wrapper: black tea; another crunched under his heel: chamomile — Sandy’s drinks of choice for when he either needed to spring into action or pass out after a hard night’s work. The wrappers littered the cushions, earmarking Sandy as a great guardian but a lousy housekeeper.
He waded through the pillow sea towards the cockpit at the front of the room, a wide circular structure that looked a little like a papasan chair but with a panel of levers and pulleys in front — controls for the sandship that only Sandman could decipher. A pair of black velvet slippers had been haphazardly tossed to the side next to a cushy plush dragon. Jack snickered into his hand, internally cooing at the thought of the first guardian curling up in his chair all warm and cozy with a cup of tea and his dragon buddy after a long hard day of kicking the shit out of the enemies of sleep and dreams.
He could now hear deep heavy breathing, the light buzz of a snore — the only sound he’d ever heard Sandy make. He cleared his throat softly, hoping to see the round pale face of his fellow guardian peek over the back of the chair, eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep, but no response came.
‘Must be napping up a storm,’ he thought. Well, no use letting a perfect opportunity slip by. He hopped onto the back of the chair and blew across his fingertips until they were white with frost. Bending down, he wiggled them in anticipation. He pounced like a cat, poking his icy fingers into the back of Sandy’s neck playfully.
Sandy reacted as if electrocuted. The two tumbled to the floor, a roly poly bundle and a lanky tangle of limbs. Jack was already laughing as he tried to extricate himself from the startled sandman, brushing away grains of sand from his hands and face.
“Sorry, I just couldn’t resist.... You were out like disco, Sand.” He snickered, sobering up somewhat and turning to help his friend to his feet. He stopped short, one hand outstretched.
Sandy was still splayed on the floor, dazed. His breathing was labored, and his face cast with a grayish pallor. He stared up at Jack, brow knitted into a pained knot. Jack bent down to Sandy’s side and propped him up. Klaxons sounded in Jack’s head. There was no way that this ashen, trembling creature was the ruddy faced juggernaut who had nearly wiped out an army of nightmares. Scrambling for something to say, some sort of comfort, he opted instead for whatever came out of his mouth first. “Whoa, you look awful.” Smooth, Jack.
The little guardian leaned heavily on Jack’s arm, shivering as the boy's cold leached up into his bones. He felt a mixture of emotions: joy at seeing his new brother in arms, irritation at having been Frosted, and then worry. His eyes flicked past Jack to the sky below — it was almost night. He hadn’t even remembered falling asleep after the previous evening’s work. Touching his temple lightly, he focused on mustering up the vein of sand which served as his only way to communicate.
Above his head, a progression of pictures danced in rapid succession; a figure of a sandman sending dreams out to a child in slumber, the figure suddenly doubling over in pain. The action repeated over and over as a moon waxed and waned above, to signify the passage of time. The sandman figure staggered and stumbled, holding it’s tiny head and curling up tightly as if disoriented and hurting. Sandy’s eyes fell out of focus and the sand picture lost it’s structure and broke apart, the trickling grains dusting his hanging head and slumped shoulders.
Jack had seen all he needed. “I’d love to say that I got all of that but... no. And you need more help than I know how to give. Come on, we’re going to the warren. Everyone is there for a party. They’ll know what to do.”
Sandy shook his head in protest and pushed away, but Jack took no heed, lacing his arms around Sandy’s waist.
“Cut it out, ok? We’re going whether you like it or not.... I’m not about to leave you alone here.” Jack braced his back, but as substantial as he looked, Sandy was light in his arms. The sandman struggled a bit, but finally relented and hung limply, like an oversized housecat.
Readjusting his passenger, Jack bounded to the front of the cockpit and out the window, freefalling for a moment before the wind caught him, rocketing him skyward and jetting through a cloudbank. He let out an excited whoop, then stifled it as he noticed how desperately Sandy clung to him, face buried in Jack’s hoodie. It stung him; he’d always known the little imp to be a thrillseeker of the first degree, a connoisseur of loop-de-loops.
“Ah, sorry there.... I guess I forgot you usually travel by cloud, but... come on it’s not that different, is it?” He cracked a wide grin, but Sandy’s pained and distant expression snuffed it out like a candle. Jack sighed and leveled out, gliding steadily.
“Don’t worry, Sandy. We’ll get you back on your feet in no time” Jack wanted to show his determination and confidence, but inside doubt nibbled at him greedily.
------
Back at the warren, Bunnymund hauled a steaming cauldron to a rough hewn wooden table. All around him was the sound of spring peepers and the buzz of insects. Dazzles of light reflected from drops of dew sprinkling the bluebells and lilies that lined the dirt paths.
He heaved the cauldron up with a grunt of exertion as it easily weighed as much as one of the fearsome stone sentinels that trundled around balancing bowls and plates and cutlery. He straightened up and eyed the cauldron intently. The contents smelled strongly of the delicious spices and herbs of a fragrant curry. He flourished a wooden spoon he’d tucked behind one ear and tasted it delicately, one eye closed in concentration. His nose twitched, his mouth puckered, and finally he beat a cheerful tattoo with his left foot. “That’s gorgeous. Never tasted finer. Well, with a little salt anyway.”
Stealing in like a phantom, a huge hulking shadow dashed behind a rock formation and crouched in waiting. Bunny stiffened for a moment, then turned back to his dish and reached for a small salt cellar to season the curry, re-holstering his tasting spoon.
In that split second, Nicholas St. North stealth-rolled past, jumped to his feet lightly and nabbed the wooden spoon out from behind Bunny’s ear. He laughed triumphantly as he peeked into the pot, blue eyes wide with anticipation. North’s face fell as he ladled up a tender purple carrot from the curry and harrumphed in anger.
“Another vegetable dish?!" he wailed in anguish. "Bunny, what is party without buffalo baby back ribs, or whole roast ox?! I could have brought stuffed caribou, walrus wellington, whale tartar...anything but more vegetables!” He roared, crossing his muscular arms in front of him like a petulant teen.
Bunny twitched his nose and leaned against the mammoth cauldron, slapping a hand to his forehead.
“For the last time, there is NO. FLESH. EATEN. IN. THE. WARREN! Just relax and put your carnivore instincts in check.... ‘Sides, who says you won’t like this? When I cook mate, I cook. We’ve got a crispy parsnip and peppercorn frittata, some nice kale and coriander stew, potato and rutabaga tenderloin, three kinds of pies — just to name a few. Now, doesn't that sound fantastic? Believe me, mate, you’re gonna come out of this a believer.” He flashed his dazzling grin, swiped back his tasting spoon and dove into the fray of the cooking burrow where he was overseeing six giant egg statues and countless little egg minions as they carried out his orders to mince, dice, fry and fricassee.
North sighed, his wide shoulders slouching comically. “Some party. Well, at least entertainment will be good, right boys?” He gestured to his attending yetis who sat in the green moss under a stone arch, one laying face down letting a fair-sized company of eggs march across his back, the other reclining in a hammock and reading a magazine called Rabbit Fancy while sipping at a strange looking green drink garnished with a stalk of celery. Neither paid him any mind.
North rumbled and sat on a rock, lighting up his pipe and shaking his head.
Tooth giggled from a nearby branch and dropped down next to him, nudging him with her shoulder.
“Cheer up, North! This is going to be a lovely night. How often do you get to show off when it’s not Christmas, hmm?”
North’s eyes lit up at the mention of his holiday. “Well, never. Unless it’s one of those ridiculous ‘Christmas in July’ parties... but those — well, I guess they are ok.” The elder guardian broke out into his infectious grin; he was physically incapable of staying cross for long, and the excitement of their welcoming party had left the curry disappointment only a bad vegetarian memory.
Tooth did a little somersault. “Well I know I can hardly stand the excitement. I really want Jack to feel at home, you know? He’s finally going to have a proper family again — he needs that.”
North smiled, stroking his snow white beard. “You’re right, of course, but try not to be too upset if it...doesn’t go how you want it to. He needs good, strong friends, too, but he still remembers losing his family. It never gets easy, just sort of farther away"
Tooth's wings whirred. She settled down next to him again and folded her hands in her lap. "I suppose it's the price of empathy, North. No one ever really forgets, not completely.... We can make him feel like he's something really special to us. There's no harm in that. I know we're never going to replace them.” Her dark lashes lowered, sending spangles of magenta and purple across her cheek.
North winced, opening his mouth to try and salvage the conversation, but before he could apologize, a low howl echoed out of one of the major tunnels. Eggs scattered in fear, running and hiding behind the sentinels, who in turn put on their fierce protector faces and braced for attack. North and Tooth leapt to their feet, drawing their swords.
The howling rose up again, louder this time, and a rumbling could be felt beneath their feet. They called to Bunny and charged to face the unseen horror barreling into the warren, ready to lay down life and limb.
Suddenly, the howling stopped short, and a cold blast of air roared out of the tunnel.
"Tchaikovsky's short hairs!!!!"
North barely had time to drop his swords when he was hammered full force in the chest by a speeding boy and an airborne pastry. The three were knocked backwards, uprooting lilies and patches of moss.
"Jack!" Tooth shouted, zipping over to collapse in the heap, arms thrown around the guardian bundle, her laughter tinkling like wind chimes.
Bunny emerged from the cooking burrow with a soufflé wobbling in his hands, ready to use it as a weapon until he saw the grisly crash scene. He smirked and crossed his paws over his broad chest. “Like it? It’s a wind breaker, Jack-o. Specially made to keep out the wind on those days when it works up to be a real howler. I guess I should have turned it off... Sorry, mate!...”
Jack spat out bits of gravel and grass as he scrambled on his hands and knees to Sandy. “Real nice, you ass! I don’t care about you pranking me but he needs help!”
For the second time that day Sandy found himself crumpled in a heap on the floor, but this time he was upside down. His head was spinning wildly from the cold, crazy trip and his stomach lurched, threatening to give up and abandon him at any moment. He barely registered the beautiful light playing across the mossy floor or his concerned friends rushing to his side before he felt those cold, cold hands lift him up again. “I found him like this at the ship.” Jack hefted him up, trying to keep from letting too much of the diminutive sleep-bringer slip out of his arms. “Even the ship itself was looking wrong — there were cracks in it and places where the gold seemed tarnished, kind of grey-"
Tooth gasped, taking the sandman’s pale hand in her own. “Oh gods...he’s freezing!”
Jack grimaced and shuffled lamely “Well that’s my fault actually.... I had to carry him the whole way here.”
Bunny stared at the two of them hard, as if studying them. His velvety pink nose quivered as his whiskers danced.
“No kidding, Jacksicle. Bring him here. Set him on the hammock.” Bunny shooed the relaxing yetis and shook out a soft brown cloak he had hanging on a tree branch nearby.
Jack shrugged sheepishly and complied.“Sorry, bro,” he whispered, smiling down at Sandy.
Sandy shook his head and patted Jack’s shoulder, all forgiven — or it would be as soon as his head stopped pounding.
Bunny draped the cloak around Sandy’s shoulders and sat down in the soft moss in front of him, handing him a wooden cup of tea. Sandy took it gratefully, only then acknowledging the burning dryness in his throat that had nearly driven him mad. After the first warm, soothing sip he could have melted in Bunny’s arms. He drained it eagerly and held out the mug for seconds.
North pushed past Bunny, full of a stern, gentle concern.
“Sandy! You look awful. What happened? Where have you been? Weeks since we drove off... that thing, and not even single peep from you.”
Tooth nodded in agreement, looking deep into Sandy’s eyes with her own amethyst gaze. “We’re just worried. We lost you once....”
Sandy did not look up from his tea, head hanging guiltily. Slowly, he conjured up images of gears and wheels, then of himself feverishly sending dreams to hundreds and hundreds of children who were sleeping fitfully, still plagued by nightmares. One by one, they would calm and relax, the dreams working their magic.
He’d been very busy, yes. Busy trying to undo the damage that Pitch had done. After he'd been freed from the Nightmare King's grip and he and the guardians had enjoyed a very brief victory, he'd been left with a disaster zone. He’d felt it all around him as soon as night fell, the sheer panic of the children forced to endure the parade of monsters and horrors that had been created just to breed their fear.
They had become so afraid to sleep that they fought their exhaustion so that they wouldn't have to face that darkness alone, and it was heartbreaking to see the concern of their caregivers when they could do nothing to allay that dread. For the first time in his long life, he felt the sickening feeling of abandonment; children who'd lost faith that they could even close their eyes again without being thrown into a maelstrom — because he was not strong enough, had not fought hard enough for them.
Staring down at the ruined dreamscapes paralyzed him with grief.
That evening he’d spent a long night curled up in the cockpit of his ship, bleary eyed and sleepless, gripped with insomnia for the first time in his long life. Hour after hour trickled by as he watched the sun set and the moon rise, like a calm white pool in a field of fireflies. The beauty held no comfort, but the light — that overwhelming radiance — reminded him of a wish he’d granted, long ago...
I wish you’d help...
It was only then that he’d managed to sit up and unbury himself from the despair. He took it and compressed it in his internal furnace, using the intense pressure of a million little sleepy dreamers and the gentle entreaty from his dear friend, his first friend. He took what was left, a hard dark diamond, and kept it locked in his heart for when he needed reminding; when he needed a spark of light to reflect his purpose.
He'd then poured every ounce of his strength into his dreamspinning. He worked at a pace that would have put the others to shame had they seen him, as he blurred through fairy tales and caught whispered desires for new dream fodder, sleeping only to amass a dragon’s hoard of golden dust. By the time night had fallen in the western hemisphere he was practically bursting with dreams, full of new narratives for his flock.
It was both ecstasy and terror to feel the tiny flickers of belief as bit by bit, fear loosened it's claws from the children. This frantic activity left no time for anything else, which was just as well for the little sandman. He had not responded to the other’s requests, had deliberately kept out of their radar. He knew that the others guardians cared very deeply for him, that indeed their goal was all the same — to protect innocence — but the truth was that he simply could not face them and blamed himself for their awful ordeal.
So he’d simply worked. Worked and felt a renewed sense of purpose, the exhilarating sensation of plunging completely into one’s craft and calling without coming up for air.
That was until things had started to unravel, and he’d began to notice himself faltering in ways he had never experienced before: pain, a hot searing ache in his back and neck; the inability to hold down even a small morsel of food at times; and worst of all, an overwhelming exhaustion that would flatten him mercilessly and leave him useless for hours.
A sharp jab in the chest brought him back to reality, with Bunny crowding over him. “Jack says you told him you were doing poorly. Explain it to me.”
Swallowing hard, Sandy related as much of his suffering as he could through gestures, sandspeak, and pantomime. Bunny said very little besides grunting occasionally in agreement, but finally he turned to a gaggle of eggs which had gathered behind him. “Oi. You go gather me some mallowwort, bloodthistle, sourbane, and sugarmoss. I need my mortar and pestle too.”
Bunny took his chin in his hand and shook his head till his ears flapped. “Mate, I only know what I’ve learned through a life of living in the season of spring, but I’ll do what I can. You just have to let me have a look over you, ok?”
Sandy’s confusion only grew. This implication of some medical explanation made no sense. As long as he’d lived he’d been pretty sure that he’d never once needed anything so much as a tissue for a runny nose. Rest and belief — that was the ‘medicine’ of the guardians.
He fervently shook his head, spilling a little tea on himself as he did.
Tooth’s tone was pleading. “Sandy, please.... We don’t know what else to do. What if this is something different? What if it’s something that could affect all of us?”
Sandy’s jaw worked, and he closed his eyes. He nodded ever so slightly. Fine. If at least it will make them leave me alone....
Bunny coughed and rubbed his paws together. “Sorry mate, they may be a bit cold” he mumbled apologetically.
Sandy’s eyes shot open and he frowned. He may not have been much to look at, but he had his pride. He hoisted an eyebrow and gestured to North, Tooth and Jack. He made a little circling gesture with a finger. A little privacy, doctor?!
The group shuffled lamely, no one quite sure just what they should be doing to disarm the acute embarrassment of the situation.
Sandy caught an almost imperceptible blush under the rabbit’s thick fur. “Oh, uh... come on, we’ll use Big Burrow. I promise it’ll be really quick.” He held out a paw to help Sandy off of the hammock, and the two disappeared into a cleanly swept burrow lined with calla lilies.
As they left, Tooth and North whispered together, but Jack could hear snatches of the conversation clearly... ‘...Too much strain...not strong enough...nightmares...Pitch....’
Jack didn’t think that was very fair, but he kept his mouth shut.
They were scared. Bunny had some cursory curative knowledge, and Tooth and North could only offer their own experiences with their own guardianhood, and none of that helped to shed any light on the situation. If Sandy had the belief of the innocents, how could he be falling ill? Jack kicked at a spare tomato that had fallen from the table and waited as patiently as he could.
Agonizing moments later, they returned. Sandy was readjusting his robes and seemed flustered but no worse for wear. Bunny’s expression was entirely unreadable. He guided Sandy back to the hammock and helped him up, bundling him up and giving him more tea. Despite the intrusion into his privacy he’d just endured, Bunny’s hospitality was still welcome to him.
"So what's wrong with him?" Jack demanded, hovering above them, concern in his voice.
Bunny sighed. He had suspected it moments after Sandy and Jack had tumbled into his warren, and mostly he had been stalling and trying to prove himself wrong. In the burrow he’d timed the beat of the little guardian’s heart, listened to his breathing and watched his eyes dilate as he’d shined a crystal’s light into them. None of it disproved his hypothesis. It made no sense, but he had no choice but to report his findings. He looked at the circle of worried faces and Sandman's meek and drained state and steeled himself. "It's simple. Very simple, really. But it's also complicated"
They didn't respond, only continued to stare.
"He's... well- he's in a delicate condition"
"Oh, no! He is sick!? This has never happened before!”
“Have people stopped believing!?"
"Is it contagious?"
Bunny’s shoulders fell. "No, no, It's nothing like that.... He's, uh, well... you know, in... that way."
"What way?"
"He's not in the way, Bunnymund. Please be serious here, he’s our friend!"
"Argh! He's, uh, a little...." Here, Bunny turned himself in profile and moved his arms down and over his stomach in a sweeping gesture, pantomiming a large protruding belly.
"...a little on the chunky side? Pah! We knew that!"
"North! That's awful!"
"Yeah you're one to talk, old man."
"What?! Is true! Besides, I am strong Cossack stock! I can arm wrestle polar bear!"
Bunny stamped angrily and shouted, "NO, DAMN IT!!! He's... you know! Expecting-"
“-the worst?!”
Tooth rolled her eyes and scoffed, “You sound like you’re trying to say he’s pregnant...."
Bunny’s mouth clopped shut and he stared at her. He winced and raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. “Bingo.”
A beat settled on the gathered group.
All eyes had turned to the Sandman. He was mid sip and nearly choked. Sandy shook his head, the image of a thumbs-down materializing over his head.
Suddenly, North guffawed loudly, the tension just too much. “Ok, that is strange joke... not so funny. Weird, yes, but not so funny.” North pulled Jack into the tense huddle and slapped him on the back heartily. Jack winced and countered, “Yeah, Bunny. I don’t know if you have had that ‘birds and bees’ talk, but uh... last I checked you needed the... lady parts for that particular job....”
Tooth’s feathers fluffed up. “Excuse me?!” She eyed them both into submission.
Bunny waited until their laughter ebbed into an uncomfortable cough. “I’m dead serious, mate-” he tapped his nose “-sensitive equipment. I can tell, trust me. I’ve always had a knack for that. Besides, Spring is my season. New beginnings. New life... I felt it the second I saw you.” He stooped down until he was eye level with Sandy, and narrowed his green eyes.
Sandy stared right back, little fists balled up at his sides. Normally, Bunny’s posturing and ranting almost amused him, but this was not a game to him. Whatever this allegation was, it was serious.
Bunny dropped his voice and continued to stare. “I’m right, mate. Think about it. The fatigue, the dizziness, nausea, exhaustion. And you’ve gotten bigger around the middle but you don’t know how because you’re not resting, not eating. But most of all, you can feel it, can’t you? Just a little flutter every now and then, you could mistake it for your heart. Nothing big, not yet, but soon, really soon....”
Bunny’s tone turned stony, his voice dropped to a whisper. “But that’s not the right question is it? The right question is what the hell is it?”
The cup Sandy was drinking from clattered to the ground, and all the color drained from his face. His little hands clutched his belly.
North goggled at him, mouth open. “Bunny you can’t be serious?! Do you know what this means?!”
“That Sandy is carrying some... thing inside of him? Something possibly dangerous? Something we as guardians have never encountered? Yeah, I do.”
North waved him off.
“No!!! it means that we are going to be uncles, hahaha!” He patted Sandy on the head and took his little round face in his hands, squishing his cheeks. “Sandy, if you have boy, you name him Nicholas Junior, ok?!”
Sandy swatted his hands away, sending him a vicious vision of a very rude gesture indeed, which of course only caused North to laugh harder.
Jack backed away with his arms up as if he was afraid of contagion. “No, wait, this is too weird. I mean surely those exact 'symptoms' could be anything?! Hell, it could be the flu, pneumonia, any of those options make more sense than a baby....”
Sandy threw his arms up, nodding vigorously. Finally! Some sense!
Tooth shrugged, still shaken by the news herself. “The truth is, there is a lot we don’t understand Jack. Who’s to say a Guardian doesn’t have the power to, well, procreate? For all we know, you could carry a baby yourself,” she teased.
Jack jumped away and wrinkled his nose in distaste. “No thanks, Tooth. I sure don’t feel very ‘motherly’, alright? Let’s leave that to the professionals. And Sandy, apparently....”
Bunny interrupted, angrily, “You all keep saying ‘baby.’ We don’t know what it is!”
“Of course is baby! Adorable little strapping baby boy, named Nicholas Junior! I’ll teach him how to fight two-handed with scimitars!”
Tooth sat next to Sandy and took his arm in her own. “Well, only one person would know that, guys-” he could tell she was trying very hard to be supportive “-so who’s the lucky lady, Sandy? Oops... or fella — that’s ok too, you know!”
Sandy felt as though he’d been punched in the mouth.
He wasn’t a fool, he knew how humans worked. But he wasn’t one, had never been. He was an ancient star pilot from the Golden Age, hand chosen by the Tsar Lunar himself to carry out the grave and important job of keeping Pitch’s nightmare armies at bay while the children of the world slept — and here they were, insisting he was... knocked up!? He shook off Tooth’s embrace and shouted at them with as many visual versions of ‘no’ he could muster. Not possible. Not happening. NO.
Yet even as he said it, somehow, he knew Bunny was right. The seed had been planted, figuratively and something else had been planted literally. Still, it made absolutely no sense. After all, he hadn’t even been intimate with anyone. Ever!
Once again it was Bunny who snapped him out of his thoughts. He had ground up a thick green paste with the ingredients the eggs had brought back and was steeping a tea with it.
“You need to drink this.” He gruffly handed Sandy yet another cup full of steaming liquid.
“I can’t be entirely sure, but it’s a pretty good guess that your condition is linked to your ability to control your dreamsand. The weaker and sicker you get, the harder it will be to control it. This should help your symptoms, give you a little strength and make it easier to keep something down.”
“Ah! He’s right, Sandy. You need to start taking care of yourself, for Little Nick’s sake. I should bring you some shashlik — real food, not this vegetable stuff!”
Bunny raised a bushy eyebrow and snorted. "I can't believe you, North. This isn't a litter of puppies we're talking about. We need to take him to the lamadary."
"Dromedary?"
"Lamadary, Jack." Tooth's tone was reverent. "The Lunar Lamas at the top of the world — they're our connection to the Man in the Moon. We only consult them under serious circumstances. If Sandy doesn't know how this happened, MiM will; he can warn us of any danger."
"If there is danger," North added, obviously for Bunny's benefit.
Bunny seemed visibly relieved that they were finally acting like grown ups. "Thank gods. I thought I'd have to knock your skulls together so we could finally do something instead of standing around here planning the baby shower." He turned from them and began to clear away dishes. "We can be out of here in two shakes, I just gotta make sure the cooking fires are out and the eggs know not to play in the soups while we're gone...."
North put a hand on Bunny's shoulder, shaking his head. "Relax-" North hitched up his belt and clapped his thick hands "-tonight, we have a good time. Sandy can’t make that journey tonight, not when he’s this weak. Besides, we have so much to celebrate now... all of us." His grave tone was directed right at Bunny, and it seemed to quiet the retort that the giant rabbit had poised on his lips.
North was right. Sandy wouldn’t make the cold journey over the Himalayas to the Lamadary. They’d have to wait until he was able at least to use his dreamcloud. Bunny sighed. “Fine. Well, we should eat at least. Soon.” He turned back to the eggs and ordered them to bring out the meal, a parade of tantalizing dishes that would have warranted a standing ovation had it not followed such a weird conversation.
Sandy was not watching the spectacle. He couldn’t dislodge Bunny's paranoid question from his head. 'What?'
He mused over a word he had been thinking over and over since he'd heard the 'momentous' news. He didn’t need to go to the lamas; he knew exactly what this thing inside of him had to be...A particularly strange word he had not found a reason to use yet.
Parasite.
He turned the word over in his head trying to visualize it in a way that made sense, a way he could show the others, but all he could conjure up was a pile of ugly squirming worms. In his rare free time he used to flip through dictionaries in all languages, pulling out strange and tantalizing words and attempting to mold perfect sand images for even the slipperiest phrases. He enjoyed it immensely and loved to challenge the other Guardians to long guessing games.
The worms dissolved and morphed into a little image of himself, writhing in pain while a great toothed something ate him alive from the inside out.
He let the image fall away, his throat tightening uncomfortably.
------
The surprise turned out to be a fiasco and a half. Finally settling into a tense dinner, the guardians shared the meal with a sort of terse, overly polite pall hanging over them. Delicious as it was, North finally bellowed "Enough. Is time to play!” and threw his empty cup into one of the cooking fires, causing Bunny to fly into a rage and delaying the present opening still further. By this point, Sandy was finally feeling a little better and had perked up enough to be interested in something besides the doom they had apparently condemned him to.
The present turned out to be a cricket set. Everyone seemed politely amused but unsure of how to respond — when you live in a world of walking Easter eggs and magical snowballs, cricket falls somewhat short of an amazing surprise. However, it wasn’t until Jack was begrudgingly ‘volunteered’ that the game’s true nature was discovered. As he bowled the ball towards the wicket, it sped along right into Tooth’s waiting bat - and exploded in a puff of pink dust. Tooth stood, dazed, her whole body now a bismuth colored mess — North’s ingenious little set actually exploded on contact at random intervals, either dousing the player with paint, or sweet smelling dust, or tiny tickling bubbles. By the end of the evening everyone was multicolored, a mess, and exhausted with laughter.
All except Sandy. Each time he had wanted to join in, one of the others would find him something to drink or eat or fetch him another pillow or gently guide him back to the hammock. He ended the match full and comfy, but seething.
This is ridiculous. He almost as old as the Man in the Moon. He had seen the fall of the Golden Age. He fought with whips, for heaven’s sake! and they were treating him like a baby!
No. Like he was expecting a baby. Entirely different thing. He watched them play and cavort, and part of him felt bitter, betrayed.
Maybe this is what Pitch had felt like.
...Where had that come from?
------
The chirping of crickets awoke him several hours later. Sandy’s sleepy golden eyes blinked, and with panic he found he was stricken blind. A thick grey fog clouded his vision. A few terrified flails later, he realized he was only face down in Bunny’s soft fur. Spitting out a few stray strands he rubbed his face and peeled away from the rabbit’s protective embrace for some cool air.
He sighed and stretched, wondering how on earth the past few hours had happened without his permission. All around him, his companions slept. Of course, not of their own volition. Upon closer inspection, they all had delicate traces of dream dust in their eyes, glittering in the light prettily. It was the only way he could think to escape without a barrage of questions. He bit his bottom lip and bobbed over to Jack, pulling his arm out from under him so that he wouldn’t wake to pins and needles and propping his head on a soft tuft of grass. He continued to rearrange them to more comfortable positions, as most of them were still holding cricket bats or half full mugs of now cooled cider or plates of Bunny’s delicious fare.
Bunny’s cooking!
His gaze flicked to the table, still laden with the fruits of Bunny’s labors. Tiptoeing past a loudly snoring North, he snatched up a juicy fig tart and took a ravenous bite. Bunnymund was right; the concoction he had given him had stopped his shaking and woken up an appetite he had not known could be contained in one so small. Tooth had spent most of the evening delighting in doting on him and insisting he take seconds or thirds of everything. After some initial grumbling, he had given in and discovered that was exactly what his body had wanted. He didn't like to admit it, but he'd practically shed a tear of joy when Bunny had revealed a three tiered carrot cake. Amazingly enough, despite the shameful amount of dinner he'd murdered, he was feeling a little peckish. He tucked a few more tarts into his robe, not quite willing to make the journey unaccompanied.
He glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping guardians in the clearing. His heart sunk. After his initial hissy fit, he felt absolutely awful for ruining their party, for betraying them, for being so full of cowardice, for effectively spitting in their faces when they had only tried to help... again.
After Bunny had mentioned the Lamadary, he was unable to shake a creeping dread. Going would bring more questions, more speculation... He knew he would have to the Lamas eventually, but first he had to be sure. It was his life they were arguing over, and more importantly, the safety and dreams of millions of children. MiM had trusted him. This was one battle he would not, could not lose.
Making his way carefully to the main tunnel of the Warren, he passed a pretty little silver pool, catching the moonlight in it’s still waters. As he passed, he saw his own golden reflection and paused. He smoothed down his robe and rested his hand tentatively on his belly. Hundreds of wild questions tumbled in his mind, trying to make themselves coherent, but only one petulant concern would solidify: just saying it is a child — just for argument's sake — just how big was he going to get anyway?!
He’d already felt a definite increase in his waistline, and a funny sort of heaviness that’d he’d mostly attributed to his love of human sweets. He’d never been svelte of course and had always taken the good natured ribbing about his Ruebenesque frame with serenity. In his mind, he began to imagine himself as some sort of slowly inflating Sandy balloon, puffing up rounder and rounder until he popped in a shower of golden confetti.
Sighing soundlessly, he pushed the thoughts away. He’d have time to battle his vanity later. Setting his little mouth in a determined frown, he conjured up his dreamcloud. Carefully he hopped onto it; instead of dissipating or crumbling, it seemed to hold strong. He looked over at his sleeping comrades and held out his palm to them, blowing a little glimmering curl of dream sand over their sleeping bodies. He sent them each a dream, something simple, sweet and clear; all his gratitude, his humbleness, and his love, thanking them for their unwavering goodness in his own silent way. Whatever happened from this point forward, he wanted them to know that he needed answers, and only one person in the entire world could help him with it.
------
Somewhere in a deep forest, darkness came home to rest in a crevice beneath an old, abandoned bed that had been left to rot in a clearing.
Injured, broken and bleeding from fresh wounds, it all but tumbled into the cave, whimpering. It had lost the battle with the morning, as it had done on countless days since time was new and the world raw and red from birth. It slunk down echoing hallways, it’s keen howls reverberating until they could shatter glass and crack marble. It collapsed, panting and foaming with exhaustion.
From the shadows, a cold soft hand extended and a voice, rich as oil, a salve for the shuddering darkness as it breathed it's last.
“Tomorrow we start again” the voice soothed, brushing back the hair from the darkness’ fevered brow. “Tomorrow we fight, and one day soon you will devour the sun, consume the moon, and we will be free.