Chapter Text
The meeting had already gone on too long.
Jack knew that before he even arrived.
North had that look in his eye: the one that meant charts and plans and “important Guardian business.” Tooth had stacks of glowing memories floating beside her. Bunny looked irritated before anyone even sat down. Sandy was half-asleep in the corner making little dream sheep.
And Jack?
Jack was trying very hard not to crawl out of his own skin.
He bounced one foot against the floor under the long wooden table.
Then both feet.
Then he stopped because Bunny shot him a look.
Then he started again five seconds later because if he didn’t move, he thought he might explode.
The workshop felt too warm.
Too loud.
North’s booming voice crashed around the room while Toothiana fluttered through reports about children’s beliefs and fear patterns and holiday schedules. The lights overhead reflected off polished metal and gold trim until Jack’s eyes hurt.
He rubbed at them hard.
Too bright.
Too much.
He hadn’t slept.
Not really.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had.
A few hours here and there didn’t count. Drifting off for ten minutes while hiding in a cloud definitely didn’t count.
Every time he closed his eyes for too long, his brain turned against him.
Cold water.
Darkness.
Hands reaching.
Falling.
Drowning.
Jack swallowed hard.
“Jack?” Tooth said gently.
He blinked.
Everyone was looking at him.
Right.
Someone had asked him something.
“Uh.” He forced a grin. “Yep. Totally listening.”
Bunny’s ears twitched.
North crossed his arms. “Then perhaps you answer question.”
Right.
Question.
Jack stared.
Nothing.
His mind was static.
The silence stretched.
“Oh my stars,” Tooth murmured softly.
“I-” Jack laughed too quickly. “Sorry. Zoned out.”
Bunny leaned back in his chair, gaze narrowing.
Jack immediately looked away.
He hated when Bunny noticed things.
Because Bunny always noticed.
North sighed and continued talking.
Jack tried to focus.
Really.
He did.
But his thoughts were moving too fast and too slow all at once.
He caught pieces of conversation like radio stations cutting in and out.
Belief levels.
Nightmares.
Schedules.
Children.
Pitch.
Storm systems.
Jack tugged at the sleeve of his hoodie.
Then the strings.
Then his gloves.
Then he realized he’d started shredding frost into the tabletop and stopped abruptly.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
Simple.
Easy.
Except his lungs suddenly forgot how.
The room tilted slightly.
Jack pressed his palms against his knees.
No one noticed.
Good.
Good.
North was still talking.
Tooth was writing notes.
Sandy snored softly into a dream cloud.
Bunny, though-
Bunny was staring directly at him.
Jack looked away again.
His heartbeat felt wrong.
Too fast.
His hoodie suddenly felt tight around his neck.
The workshop noises grew louder.
Metal clanging.
Elves chattering.
North’s voice.
Fire crackling.
Everything layered together until it pressed against his skull.
Jack’s fingers started shaking.
No.
No, not here.
Anywhere but here.
He pushed back from the table too quickly.
The chair scraped hard against the floor.
Everyone startled.
“Jack?” Tooth asked.
“I just need air.”
His voice sounded wrong.
Thin.
Tight.
Bunny stood immediately.
“I’m fine,” Jack snapped.
Too sharp.
Too loud.
North frowned.
Jack hated the look instantly.
Concern.
He hated concern.
“I said I’m fine.”
The words came faster now.
Too fast.
“I just- I can’t- this room is-”
His chest seized.
Air caught halfway in.
The walls felt too close.
His vision blurred.
Jack stumbled backward.
Someone said his name.
Maybe Tooth.
Maybe North.
Didn’t matter.
Everything sounded underwater.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
He needed to leave.
Needed out.
Needed silence.
Needed-
A large hand caught his staff before it slipped from numb fingers.
“Easy.”
Bunny.
Jack jerked away automatically.
“Don’t.”
The word cracked.
Bunny didn’t let go of the staff.
“Alright,” Bunny said, voice suddenly calm in a way Jack had almost never heard before. “Nobody crowd him.”
North immediately stopped moving.
Tooth lowered herself carefully to the floor.
Even the elves went quiet.
Jack bent forward, hands gripping his sleeves hard enough to hurt.
He couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
His skin felt wrong.
Too tight.
Too cold.
Frost spread wildly across the floor beneath him.
“I can’t-”
“Yes, yeh can.” Bunny’s voice cut through the noise cleanly. “Look at me, Frostbite.”
Jack shook his head violently.
“Can’t.”
“Don’t gotta talk.”
Bunny stepped closer, slow and careful like approaching a frightened animal.
“Just listen.”
Jack’s vision tunneled.
The room dimmed around the edges.
He was back in dark water.
Cold swallowing him whole.
No air.
No sound.
No one coming.
A hand gripped the back of his hoodie.
Firm.
Real.
Present.
“Jack.”
Bunny’s voice.
Not the lake.
Not the dark.
“Look at me.”
Jack forced his eyes upward.
Bunny crouched in front of him now, broad shoulders blocking out the overwhelming room behind him.
There was still noise.
Still light.
Still too much.
But Bunny’s voice stayed steady.
“Good. There yeh are.”
Jack’s breathing hitched painfully.
“Can’t breathe.”
“Yeah, I know.” Bunny kept his tone low and even. “But yeh are breathin’. It just feels bad right now.”
Jack hated how easily Bunny read him.
Hated how badly he wanted someone to take control because he couldn’t anymore.
Bunny looked over his shoulder.
“Tooth, lights.”
Immediately, the room dimmed.
“Sandy, door.”
The dream guardian silently ushered every elf out of the workshop.
North moved closer.
Bunny pointed without looking.
“Too big. Back up.”
North blinked.
Then obediently backed away.
Jack would have laughed if he wasn’t busy falling apart.
“Right,” Bunny said quietly. “Focus on somethin’ cold.”
Jack stared at him blankly.
Bunny huffed softly.
“Yeh’re literally the spirit of winter, mate. Work with me here.”
A tiny sound escaped Jack.
Not quite a laugh.
But close.
“Good.” Bunny nodded once. “Again.”
Jack swallowed.
The panic still clawed through his chest, but Bunny’s voice gave his thoughts something solid to grab onto.
“Tell me five things yeh can feel.”
Jack squeezed his eyes shut.
“My hoodie.”
“Good.”
“The floor.”
“Yep.”
“My staff.”
“Keep goin’.”
“Cold air.”
His voice trembled.
“Your hand.”
Silence.
Jack opened his eyes.
Bunny still had one paw gripping the back of his hoodie.
Steady.
Grounding.
Not trapping.
Never trapping.
Bunny’s expression softened for half a second.
“There yeh go.”
Jack’s breathing finally pulled in a full breath.
Then another.
The room stopped spinning.
Barely.
But enough.
Exhaustion crashed into him all at once.
His legs gave out.
Bunny caught him before he hit the floor.
“Whoa there.”
Jack buried his face in his sleeves immediately.
Humiliation burned hotter than panic.
“Sorry.”
“Nope.”
“I messed up the meeting-”
“Nope.”
“I yelled at everybody-”
“Still nope.”
Jack groaned into his arms.
Bunny sighed.
“Mate.”
Jack didn’t look up.
“You’ve been runnin’ yourself into the ground for weeks.”
Jack’s silence answered for him.
Bunny’s ears flattened slightly.
“Knew it.”
“I’m fine.”
“That phrase has officially lost all meanin’.”
A weak snort escaped Jack before he could stop it.
Bunny took advantage immediately.
“C’mon.” He stood, still supporting Jack carefully. “Meeting’s over.”
North opened his mouth.
Bunny pointed at him again.
“Don’t.”
North closed his mouth.
Tooth crossed her arms. “He needs rest.”
“No kidding,” Bunny muttered.
Jack tried to pull away. “I can walk.”
“You’re swayin’ like a baby deer.”
“I hate you.”
“Nah.” Bunny adjusted his grip when Jack nearly stumbled again. “Yeh tolerate me at best.”
Jack was too tired to argue.
The workshop doors opened quietly.
Cold air rushed against Jack’s face, clearing some of the fog from his head.
Bunny guided him out into the snow-covered courtyard without another word.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Jack sat heavily on the edge of a frozen fountain while Bunny leaned nearby, arms crossed.
Snow drifted slowly around them.
Quiet.
Finally.
Jack stared down at his hands.
“I didn’t mean to freak out.”
Bunny shrugged.
“Brains do weird stuff sometimes.”
Jack laughed weakly. “That’s your explanation?”
“Pretty much.”
Jack rubbed at his eyes.
Everything hurt.
His head.
His chest.
His thoughts.
“I’m so tired,” he admitted quietly.
Bunny’s expression changed instantly.
Not pity.
Something gentler.
“That bad, huh?”
Jack nodded.
He expected Bunny to ask questions.
About nightmares.
About memories.
About why Jack avoided sleep like it might kill him.
But Bunny didn’t.
Instead, he sat beside him on the frozen fountain.
Close enough to stay present.
Far enough not to overwhelm him.
“Alright,” Bunny said after a moment. “Then we start there.”
Jack frowned slightly. “Start what?”
“Fixing it.”
Jack barked out a laugh.
“You make that sound easy.”
“Never said easy.” Bunny nudged his shoulder lightly. “Just said yeh don’t gotta do it alone.”
Jack went very still.
The words settled somewhere deep in his chest.
Warm.
Dangerous.
Hopeful.
For a second, Jack thought about brushing the whole thing off with a joke.
Deflecting.
Running.
Pretending.
Instead, he whispered:
“I don’t know how to stop.”
Bunny looked out across the snow-covered courtyard.
“Guess we’ll figure it out together then.”
Jack stared at him.
Bunny noticed immediately.
“What?”
“You’re being weirdly nice.”
“Oh, get stuffed.”
Jack laughed for real that time.
Small.
Tired.
But real.
And Bunny’s ears flicked upward like he’d won something important.
Above them, Sandy’s golden dream sand drifted quietly through the air.
Not pushing.
Not forcing.
Just waiting.
Whenever Jack was ready.