#SHE JUST WANTS DEMISE TO BE INTERWOVEN WITH HER HANDS IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK

[dailykugisaki]

Day 190 | id in alt

Fear without courage, courage without fear.

[savannah-lim]

I Owe You A Drink || Deirdre & Savannah

Timing: Immediately following Put A Ring On It  Location: Dell’s Tavern Parties: @savannah-lim and @deathduty Content: N/A Summary: After Deirdre saves Savannah from a fairy ring, the two go for a drink. 

Savannah felt as if she'd stumbled into a movie, some uncomfortable mix of horror and romantic comedy. Having just outrun an angry mob of whatever-the-hell-those-were, this breathtakingly gorgeous woman was taking her hand and telling Savannah she owed her drinks. Within minutes they were sitting in a booth in the back corner of Dell's Tavern. Music played loudly enough to stop people overhearing them, but not loud enough to make conversation too difficult. "I'm paying, right?" she said, giving Deidre a little smile. "Okay, I have many questions, but first, what're you having?" 

Deirdre needed a drink. Or, more accurately, several drinks. Taking them with an attractive human wasn’t the worst way to go about it. She smiled back at Savannah and tried to remember how charm worked again. It didn’t help that part of her mind was still screaming filthy human; ruined the mushrooms! While the other part replayed the fae yelling at her. Being a good person was terrible, and she hated it, but getting drinks was something she was used to. “Now, that depends on how much money you have to spare, love.” She leaned on the table, extending her hand across and playing idly with loose strands of Savannah’s hair. It was like Morgan’s, in that it also possessed a fluffy quality. “Whiskey. Neat. If you can just get me the entire bottle, that’d be nice. It takes me a while to get drunk and I’d like….” she sighed, drawing her hand back. “To forget what just happened.” 

Savannah gave a low chuckle. Now that she was looking properly at Deirdre without the corner of her gaze eyeing an aggressive fae or the two of them running through the woods, she was able to truly appreciate just how beautiful she was. “I’m pretty sure anything Dell’s stocks, I can afford,” she replied, giving Deirdre a small grin, trying desperately to ignore the fact Deirdre was playing with her hair. The combination of touch and accent and those big brown eyes was overpowering enough when Savannah didn’t consider the fact this woman had just saved her life. Before long, the two of them had a bottle and two glasses in front of them. Enough to share. “I don’t think I’m ever going to forget it,” she said, taking her first sip. “And you may not be able to, considering I plan to spend the next several minutes asking you questions about it, starting with what the hell just happened, and what are you?” She didn’t have to be under the influence of alcohol to be so terribly direct. It came naturally.

Humans were interesting not for their own merits, but as pieces of nature. Deirdre enjoyed watching them mill about their lives not particularly because she cared about their lives, but because their lives were as interwoven into the fabric of Fate as any other creature. They dropped like flies, lived like rabbits, behaved like dogs. It wasn’t so much about getting to know Savannah as it was figuring out what flavor of human she was--fly, rabbit, dog? So far, dog. Deirdre poured her glass full, downing it with practiced ease and elegant determination. “Oh, I’m sure you do…” She smiled, rasping her words as she poured herself another glass.  “But what makes you think you deserve answers, Savannah? You were the one poking around mushrooms in the woods, shouldn’t a girl know better?” She paused, having downed one glass of whiskey and now enjoying savoring her next. “What am I?” She turned her gaze to the humans--flies, rabbits, dogs. “You can call me a storm--a gale of wind, a dark cloud, the lightning that strikes a tree down.” She turned back to her company. “Or an attractive Irish woman. What are you?” 

Savannah let loose a scoff of both amusement and irritation. “Wow, poetic.” Savannah didn’t know it yet, but fae were often terrible at giving direct answers, and for a woman as direct as Savannah, that was both unfathomable and frustrating, yet part of it challenged her too. She couldn’t deny she found it somewhat alluring. Like a puzzle that didn’t want to be solved. “Okay, dark cloud,” she played along. “You wanna try it again without the bullshit?” Savannah wanted to add that she hadn’t needed Deirdre to tell her about the attractive Irish woman part. She’d figured that much out on her own. But she wouldn’t give her ego the satisfaction. “I’m someone who’s no good at coming up with aloof and lofty descriptions. I’m someone who likes answers. That--” Person? Thing? Creature? “That woman knew you. She used your name. Then they called you--what was it? Flatback? I’ve seen people with wings like that before.” Well, one person, but Deirdre didn’t need to know that it had just been Regan. She had to attempt to have some bargaining chips in this conversation, because right now, if she was honest, she felt a little outmatched.  

Yep. Definitely dog. “Oh, I wouldn’t call it bullshit…you’ll learn sooner or later that I’m not much of a person at all.” Deirdre had trouble hiding her grimace at the word ‘flatback’; it was one thing to hear it, another thing to have the human repeat it. She tipped back her glass and down another big gulp, holding it up to the light to inspect how much was left. She didn’t want to get too drunk, especially in a crowded place, banshee control and alcohol didn’t play well, but she also didn’t really want to be sober for this. “How have you seen people with wings before?” She questioned, “you could say me and that mushroom-loving gremlin are a community. A community that adores their secrets.” She flicked her gaze up at Savannah. Humans could be curious, sniffing around things they didn’t deserve to, but just because she knew what a wing smelled like, she wouldn’t really understand it. “As a person who likes answers, you should know not all come free. Not all come easy. And certainly, not all come cheap.” Deirdre leaned on the table, glass set down and head propped up in her hands. “I’m a person that enjoys a little incentive. The way I see it, I just saved your life. And now you want to ask me questions? Do you want to know what that person would have done to you?” Deirdre reached out, pressing her finger to the center of Savannah’s forehead. “First, she would have taken your mind.” Deirdre trailed her finger down to the tip of the human’s nose. “Then, your power.” And down, until she brushed the edge of her lips drawing her finger back. “And then your body. You would have been dead slow and tortured, and nameless. No one would ever find you, and you’d never get any answers.” 

"Oh, would you prefer a more poetic word?" Savannah asked. The challenging nature of this stranger became even more evident as their conversation continued, but she checked her tone. She did have a terrible habit of being direct to the point of bluntness. "Because someone invited me to see them in the woods," she said simply, giving a small shrug and not going into further detail. "Secrets can be important for safety. I understand that." If word got out about the things she had seen while living in White Crest, there would be mass panic. There was a reason she never put any of this in her reports, beyond not wanting to look crazy. "One of your kind trusted me enough to show me something I assume is very intimate. There had to be a reason for that. I'm simply asking a question. I can't make you answer it." She refilled her glass, which she'd drained all too quickly. A chill ran down her spine at the description of what the other creature would have done to her. She shivered when Deirdre's finger touched her nose and lip. She'd done deals before. Immunity for information. Why should this be any different? "Why did you help me?" 

“I appreciate poetry.” Deirdre hummed, her eyes remained on Savannah. She was right in saying one of her kind must have trusted this human enough to reveal her wings, but with fae like Regan, how much did that matter? Deirdre took another sip of her drink. What were the odds this human knew Regan though? Sure the town was small, but Regan was more or less a hermit. She couldn’t picture the ex-medical examiner talking to someone who didn’t work with her. But what fae would trust a human enough with their wings, and not their name? “I helped you because that’s what you’re supposed to do…” She eyed her glass, staring at the amber liquid for answers. “...at least, that’s what I was told.” She’d only really considered that Morgan would do this, and Morgan would appreciate this, and she knew being better meant doing these sorts of things. And that’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? To be better, to be good. But she didn’t like the idea that there was more thought out into it than that—never mind the guilty twist that erupted in her stomach at the thought of Savannah’s eventual demise. “Fae.” She said after a moment. “My kind of people. They’re called fae. You ought to know the name if you’re going to be sniffing around. And don’t call us fairies; we’re not. It’s fae.” 

Because that's what you're supposed to do, Deirdre had said, and Savannah weighed the words heavily in her mind. That wasn't very reassuring. She'd have preferred to hear something like 'I couldn't stand to let anything awful happen to you', but she'd take what she could get. At least it was honest, Savannah supposed. She'd value that over lies any day of the week. "Well, I appreciate your help," Savannah said, no idea what the words might mean. "And I can tell you appreciate a good drink, so I hope we both got something out of this nightmarish day." She swallowed her drink again, the liquid pleasantly burning the back of her throat. "You don't like being called fairies?" she asked. "Is it like, a micro-aggression or something?" Deirdre's glass was running low too, so she refilled it for her. "You have no wings," she said, her voice soft, almost sympathetic. What was the point of being a fae without wings? Regan's were so breath-takingly beautiful. 

“Don’t appreciate it, human,” Deirdre growled. “I don’t enjoy being thanked.” She shook her head, downing the last of what was in her glass. She could feel the fuzz starting to form around her mind, and was desperate for more. She poured herself another glass. “Not a micro-aggression, more like a major-aggression. Fairy is a human word, it’s a bastardization of what was once ours. Even fae is not something we ever called ourselves—at least, not where I’m from. But fairy has become so muddied by your human tales, fae suits us better.” Deirdre sighed, winching again at mention of her wingless back. “Why, Savannah,” she hid her pain with a sharp smile, “why don’t you buy a girl dinner before you go off commenting on her back?” She took another slow, long sip of her whiskey. “And I don’t like that pity in your voice. But I understand it; wings are beautiful, aren’t they? I wish I had a pair to show off.” 

"The way you're talking, you don't enjoy or like very much." She was almost as bad as Kaden, Savannah thought. Even he'd been easier to have a conversation with. Her excitement for this conversation was quickly waning. Savannah really had nothing to add to this fairy/fae conversation. She couldn't say anything right to this woman. "It's not pity." But she didn't know what else to call it either. "Hey, I bought you drinks, didn’t I?” She snickered. “I'm learning things in this town that a year ago, I never would have considered believing. I've almost been killed by fae, flying monkeys, and a mermaid. I just wanted to round my shitty day off with drinks with an attractive Irish woman." She repeated Deirdre's earlier words with a small, flirtatious smile. "What do you want?"

“That’s not true. I enjoy death, bones, murder, my girlfriend, pushing humans down stairs—“ Deirdre waved her hand dismissively in the air. “We have to try that one, one day.” Though despite her jokes, it was true she didn’t enjoy much. She had her mother to thank for that, being a banshee was quite a drab thing. “What is it then? You’re sad I don’t have wings, is that not pity? It’s not like I’m angry at you for it. I agree. I’d be better with wings.” She sighed. Another sip, long and slow. She placed the glass back down in much the same way. “Flying monk—“ Nevermind, she didn’t want to know. “Mhm, mostly for you to keep calling me attractive. I might think about offering the same courtesy back to you.” Another sip. And another. “Or maybe I should get to ask you some questions, hm? Why should you get all the fun?” 

Girlfriend. Well, harmless flirting was just that, wasn't it? Harmless. It wasn't like she'd expected anything to come from all this anyway. That'd be crazy. "You like murder?" Savannah asked, realising that was what most have stuck out to most normal people. "Human remains, animal? My ex-wife was a tattoo artist. Her studio had bones everywhere. Animal skulls, mostly." She'd always appreciated them, in a way. They were interesting to watch her ex draw from life, transform into tattoos. "I'm not /sad/ you don't have wings." She wasn't sure if that was a lie or not. Yeah. It probably was. "I just would have liked to see them, if you did." And touch them, she added, if only mentally. "I know I'm attractive," Savannah answered with a small shrug. "But you can still say it. And I never said you couldn't ask me questions. Please do."

Ex-wife. Deirdre processed this news with a tinge of sadness. Human relationships were strange to her, how did someone love someone once...and then not? How could that happen? How could anyone let that happen? She thought of Morgan and grew very fearful; humans liked divorce, didn’t they? Wasn’t her mother always calling them fickle? Deirdre took another long sip and shook her head. “Did she pass?” She asked, hoping for the sake of her own imagination that death was the breaking factor. “Yes, well, bones can be a work of art. And I do, by the way, enjoy a good murder. I think they’re fascinating.” Deirdre liked to play on the line between absurdity and plausibility—let someone else think she was joking or meant something else. She was a fae who could lie, but often found it more enjoyable to simply not. “Yeah, well, I would have liked to see them too. And anyway, it’s not like you can talk. You don’t have any either. You’re human and boring, you can’t even levitate a spoon, can you?” Could she? “Well the fae,” she said, “I want to know why a fae would show you their wings.” 

Savannah supposed she'd set herself up for the personal question when she'd given Deirdre permission to ask her things, but the question itself took her aback. Strange, she thought, that this be her first assumption. "No. If she'd passed I'd have called her my late wife." Savannah chose not to elaborate, for almost no other reason than she felt she should at least try and give this fae somewhat of a challenge, not to simply be an open book. Holding back information could be so important in investigations. It could also be important in social situations. "Yes, murder and bones can both be fascinating," she agreed. "And yes, I'm also a boring human. Perhaps that's why I'm so interested in people like you." Another pause. Another drink. "You'd have to ask the fae. She mentioned she had them. I asked. She said yes. I don't assume to know her reasons. Maybe because I’m so attractive," she teased. “And trustworthy.” 

Deirdre sighed. “Yes, of course you would.” Though it was often more thrilling to hear about the people who died than the ones who lived. Deirdre felt curiosity itch across her skin. “Can I ask you a personal question?” She leaned on to the table, eyes serious. “Divorce. How does that happen? How does someone let that happen? I don’t get it.” She leaned back. “My mother often called humans fickle—they couldn’t commit to something even if they wanted to. But I know that’s not true. Still, I wonder. Divorce; how does that happen? How can you make vows and then….not?” She took another sip; long, slow. She nodded as Savannah explained about the fae, laughed as she called herself attractive—it was true, of course, but it was good to know she had a sense of humour. “Maybe so. Maybe that fae knows something about you I don’t,” she smiled, “but I’d like to find out.” 

Savannah was a little surprised by Deirdre’s question. After all, hadn’t all of this been personal? She refilled her drink. Soon, they’d need another bottle if they continued at this rate. This topic though, she definitely needed to drink before discussing. Savannah shrugged. She’d had enough to loosen her tongue. “I still love her. It’s not about not loving someone. At least for me.” It was probably good that she’d moved to a different state, because she’d lost track of the number of times she and Jamie had fallen into bed together after too many drinks. The commitment part, the expectations, that was what had needed to go. Not the love. 

“Haven’t you changed during the course of your life?” Savannah asked. “What if your partner doesn’t change with you and you outgrow them? What if your goals and desires change, your feelings aren’t the same over time, you begin to make one another unhappy, or your partner does something horrible and you can’t forgive them? All these things happen. We never did anything awful to one another. We’re still friends. But I prioritized my work over my marriage. Too many missed dinners, late nights, weeks of travel without her. In the end it just hurt too much.” Even when she knew Deirdre was taken, it was tough not to be taken in by her flirting. “You can find out plenty about me, as long as your girlfriend is alright with that. I’m not planning to leave this town any time soon.” There was too much work to do here, and if she was honest, there was too much fascination. 

“And what if you don’t want to let them go?” Deirdre’s voice grew soft, curious. Behind her eyes was a simple fear, a type of timid anxiety that asked ‘what about me’. Her devotion was a product of thousands of years, a history of banshees teaching their daughters that nothing was more important than loyalty. She served Fate, but she loved Morgan. And her heart twisted at the possibility of losing her; of growing apart, as simply as Savannah described it. “But distance doesn't matter, does it? Time apart...wouldn’t change much, would it?” She stared down into her glass; the alcohol was working, and it was making her sad. “You didn’t want to try harder? Change? Was your work really...more valuable than your marriage?” If Deirdre had any sense of what were appropriate things to say to a human, she might have apologized for her inquiries, but her earnesty was plain to see. “Huh?” She looked back up, pulled from her thoughts. “Why would my girlfriend have an issue with me learning more about you?” And now, her confusion was obvious. “Aren’t we just talking?”   

"A relationship has to go two ways. If one person wants out, it's done. You can work on it. But you have to work together." Savannah's voice was low and her eyes remained on Deirdre's face, a quiet sadness in them. She'd text Jamie tonight, just to say hello, just to check in. "Of course I wanted to. It's just... it's complicated. Now you're making me sound like a shitty person," she chuckled humorlessly, almost a scoff. "I was a shitty wife. By the time we tried to fix it, it was already broken. People are complicated. Sometimes we need things our partner can't provide, sometimes we don't know what we need. If I ever get married again-" she doubted that was on the cards, but you never knew. "I'd do it differently." She sighed, waving away her words. "Never mind. I'm drunk, and I thought you were actually flirting with intent until the whole girlfriend thing. Now I don't know if I'm disappointed or relieved." Or both.

“But you’re making it sound so...hopeless. Like it couldn’t be helped; it just happened. You made mistakes but is it really so—Did she not—“ Whatever Deirdre wanted to say, she couldn’t get it out. Her fear boiled slowly deep down, where it questioned from the corner it cowered it. I just don’t want that to happen to me, she was saying, in more words than she had to. But Savannah’s words rang in her head; sometimes people needed things their partner couldn’t provide. Sometimes people didn’t know what they needed. Deirdre sighed. “Sorry. That’s just how I talk. But I can flirt with you some more and we can forget we just talked about your divorce for several minutes.” Deirdre raised her glass. “To not thinking about divorce!” 

“It happened,” she shrugged. “Thinking about what I could have done or didn’t do to fix it, that won’t change anything now.” Savannah added some more to her glass, topping it up with diet soda. She chuckled as Deirdre offered to continue flirting with her. “Oh, that’s exactly what a middle-aged woman like me needs. Your pity flirting,” she teased, but touched her hand for a moment, hand for a moment before pulling it away. “Alright, well then, to not thinking about divorce, and to finishing what’s left of this bottle.”

[vannahfanfics]

Before you read, here’s the previous chapter. New? Start from the beginning!

Rise of the Guardians: Earthsong

Ao3

Chapter 14: Nathalie’s Failsafe

It burned. It burned like the day she had died, when the smoke scratched into her lungs with eager little claws, ripping scores into the vulnerable cells and make her choke. Nathalie could feel the tendrils of writhing purple cells painfully probing around her heart and lungs to squeeze them between sharp teeth, bubbling up bright red blood that was staining the pristine fabric of her dress the dark ruby color. It burned, but she felt cold too; a frosty feeling was creeping up from her toes and fingertips, making her sensations fuzzy and indistinct. It burned, yet she smiled down at Jamie even as a dribble of blood rolled down her chin from her mouth which was flooding with the disgusting taste of iron. He looked so scared and miserable, face pale and tears streaming down his cheeks. She was crying too, but not from the pain. She reached out with a violently shaking hand to gently cup his cheek. Warm, full of plenty of life left to live. She had cried thinking of Jamie’s young life being cut so short, at his valiant effort to come to save them even knowing the danger, at the absolutely terrified look on Jack’s face as the little body plummeted through the air nearing the gaping maw of Pitch’s monster.

“I’ve got you,” she repeated hoarsely.

Her body lurched as the spikes retreated. On unsteady feet, she landed on the vine only to fall to her hands and knees. Her nails scraped into the thick, smooth stem as she forced the last of her power into closing the wound in the center of her chest. She could feel the fine grains of sand pumping through her bloodstream, rapidly absorbing her life-giving energy, but this way she could reverse the effects as long as possible. Nathalie still had an ace up her sleeve after all, one that Pitch had failed to discover.

It would only work if she was about to die, however.

“N-Nat…” Jamie whispered. His voice was trembling as much as his body. His wide eyes watched the blood leaking in thick clumps from her body to paint the jade green body of the vine. Though she closed the flow, she spilled at least a cup of it all over the plant. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I just want to save you!” His voice cracked with a high-pitched sob as he buried his eyes into his fists. “It’s my fault…”

“Jamie,” Nat groaned and went to reach for him, but she hadn’t even the strength to lift her arm. It slapped uselessly into the puddle of blood, smearing the hot, sticky stuff over her skin. Her breath came in ragged pants and she scrunched one of her eyes up as she fought to remain conscious. This is no good… My power is diminishing much faster than I thought it would… I have to get to the Tree!

“Nathalie!” Oh, there was so much heartbreak in her name. Nathalie had only heard Jack’s voice sound like that once before, when she was being carted off by the mob of villagers to her doom, and he was left in the street howling in agony. She looked up weakly to see him charging down from the skies, freezing a rolling wave of Pitch’s black sand in the process. Just as the vine shuddered and wilted beneath Nat, he swooped down to grab her, holding her shaking form against his body with one arm while tucking the still shell-shocked Jamie under his arm. He sprang away as more of Pitch’s spikes sprang forward eager to deliver the winter spirit to his demise. Teeth gritted, he waved his staff in a wide arc and froze them before diving down into the interwoven canopy of the now still rainforest. Gently, he laid Nat in the boughs of one of the sturdy trees, blue eyes raking over her disheveled form in agony. “Nat… You’re gonna be okay… Right?” he asked weakly. Jamie whimpered and curled up in his lap to bury his face into his hoodie.

Before she could answer, the sound of tinkling bells rang through the air.

They both looked up to see North’s sleigh burst in with a cloud of ice and snowflakes. Pitch’s dinosaur had been angrily rooting through the forest in search of his prey, but once the other Guardians charged into the scene, its attention became misdirected. He has likely lost himself in his rage and the thing is acting purely on bloodlust, she reasoned weakly. Pitch would surely know that Nathalie was mortally wounded at this point and there would be no reason to further exhaust himself, but yet he still sheltered within the bestial armor. She heard North holler out in surprise as he wrenched the sleigh away from the monster’s swiping claws.

“Jack,” Nat whispered. It was hard to speak, but she forced herself to. “Jack, I need to go to the Tree of Life.” She hadn’t much time. Life was already beginning to drain from the planet. Around her, the tree leaves were flooding with yellow and orange as they crumpled up into brittle, dry masses. The air temperature was dropping by the second. Below, animals were beginning to root into burrows and hide away in their nests as their instincts screamed that a brutal winter was upon them. As foxes fled into dens, the dry ferns were crushed beneath their frantic paws. Mother birds smothered their hatchlings to keep them warm. Her cold-blooded dragon companion had dropped from the sky to lay on his side on the cold ground, breathing deeply as his warm breath formed clouds of water vapor in his mouth while he slipped into hibernation. The fragile leaves began to fall in droves to the ground, leaving the branches naked and thin. This was the epicenter of disaster; if Nathalie did not hurry, the world would soon be prisoner to the thralls of a centuries-long winter. “Jack,” she pressed as he stared at her with wide, scared eyes.

“I got it,” he acknowledged softly before grabbing Jamie and jumping up the height of the tree. “North! Down here!” he hollered loudly, hand cupped around his mouth. The sleigh jingled as it dove down to meet him.

“Jack! What on Earth is happening?” The burly man asked angrily. “Why did you leave North Pole?!” Jack ignored him and bundled the softly sobbing boy into his tattooed arms.

“Jack! Are we too late?” Toothiana demanded worriedly. Her iridescent feathers were puffed up with anxiety, and she looked down to where Nathalie was nestled within the dry branches of the tree, pale and ragged. “What’s happening to her?” Nathalie looked down at herself; her golden-blonde hair was becoming tainted with black and shearing off at the ends, slowly crawling up, and patches of burned skin were beginning to form on her arms and legs. I’m reverting back to the state in which I died, she thought, wincing at the stinging pain blooming all over her body. She could feel her lungs becoming laden with soot, making her cough weakly.

“Jack, hurry,” she moaned and tried to crawl toward him. She slipped and clumsily landed against the wide bough, legs dangling off the thick branch.

“Take care of him! We can still win this!” Jack ordered before hopping down to pluck her from the tree and spirit her down into the dying forest. She just caught a glimpse of North sending the sleigh surging forward as the dinosaur’s head reared down to devour it. Jack didn’t bother with careful entry; he crashed right through the weakened barrier of vines she had constructed in the hole above the cave. The vines exploded into dust as he blasted them with ice, allowing them to fall right through and spill sunlight back into the spacious room. “Nat, please tell me you have an idea,” he begged her as he skipped around the decaying clumps of thick vines and crystals of his own ice to head for the Tree. It was already much worse for wear than she thought; its bark had turned a dark gray color, its large leaves discarded and dry, crunching under Jack’s nimble feet. The bubbles of biomes were beginning to turn opaque with darkness, just like her hair, which was still falling and now up to her elbows.

“I can save the Earth,” she confirmed. “But…”

“But what?!” he cried and skidded to a halt right before he got to the door of Nathalie’s cabin. His ice-blue eyes pierced into her own as he took deep, frantic breaths. “Don’t say it. Nat, don’t say it.”

“I’ll die.”

Immediately, his expression contorted into one of purest anguish. He looked away and supported her with one arm while he bit down hard on the knuckles of his other hand, drawing blood. She watched the ruby-red river run down his hand before it beaded in a little jewel and splashed down to stain her already stained dress. He sucked in a few breaths through his hand, refusing to look at her. “There’s no other way. This is the only failsafe. Either way, I will perish. If I can, I would like to save this world and its future—Jamie’s future.” He looked at her through the corners of his tear-filled eyes, and she smiled wistfully. “Children can be so cruel. You remember,” she laughed wanly. “I’ve realized now that scary situations make them that way. Children can be so kind, too. Just like you were to me, back then, and just like Jamie is. If Pitch’s plan comes to fruition, all the children of the world will lose that kindness. I can’t allow it.” His hand fell from his mouth to flop loosely down to his side. He looked at her again, blankly; slowly, he smiled at her, a smile full of pride and pain and love.

“You sound like a Guardian, Nat. Let’s do it. For Jamie.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack held her like she was made of glass. He could just feel it, the sensation that she could shatter at any moment; her frame was just so thin and light in his arms as he hopped through the branches of the rapidly withering Tree of Life. Her arms were shaking as they wrapped tighter around his neck. On top of the effects of her powers draining from her body, it seems their own little curse was still alive in full-force; he had only been holding her a few minutes, but a thin sprinkle of frost coated her body from head-to-toe, her skin was as pale as the first snow of winter, and her breath was fogging up into clouds as it puffed repeatedly against his neck. The crisp scent of water crystals mingling with the acrid aroma of her singing hair and burning flesh made him nauseous. Where her skin wasn’t bright white, it was a burning pink blackened at the edges were it was literally burning away by the second. Her hair had retreated all the way up to her shoulders, where it had been sheared off four hundred years ago. Jack had no idea what she was planning, but he didn’t know if she could hang on long enough to even enact her designs. She kept whispering for him to hurry, each one more desperate and pained than the last. She was a whimpering, crying mess by the time he finally delivered her to the dense boughs of the gigantic tree.

“We’re here, Nat,” he said softly as he laid her down against one of the branches. Moaning in torturous suffering, she rolled onto her side to wrap her slender arms around the massive branch springing from the tree’s trunk.

“I need… Your help…” she puffed.

“Anything, Nat. Anything.”

“I’m going to… summon… The Earth’s spirit,” she forced out in irregular pants. Jack’s curiosity piqued, but there wasn’t enough time to get the details. “My predecessor… Taught me this. The only way… To save the Tree if we are injured. I’m going to… give the tree my life force. That should save it. The Earth… She’ll hear me calling…” Her words faltered into a high-pitched squeal as she curled up against the grayed wood, tearing at the bust of her dress to paw at her burning lungs. “Unngh! The Tree… Will be vulnerable… For a short time. Use your magic… To protect it… Jack…”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let your—" the word bulged in his throat like he had swallowed a frog. He didn’t want to say it. It hurt like hell to. “I won’t let your sacrifice go to waste,” he continued after a moment of steeling himself. Her beautiful emerald eyes, watery and lidded, peered at him through her frayed ends of blonde hair. She smiled shakily in relief and then reached a trembling hand out to him; it fell immediately, but he caught the frail thing in his own.

“I’m so glad… I got to see you again… One last time,” she uttered, tears spilling over her lashes to fall down her cheeks. Jack squeezed her hand, refusing to retreat even as his began to burn and hers began to freeze. “You won’t forget me… Will you?”

“Never,” he promised. “I’ll love you for the rest of time. That’s a promise.” Her eyes closed as she smiled brightly. She intertwined her fingers with his in a bruising, burning hand-hold, but Jack wouldn’t let go, no matter how much it hurt. He wrapped an arm around the thick circumference of a nearby branch to brace himself as he pressed against the Tree, whispering something under her breath. Above her head, she splayed out her palm against its rough surface, and a golden light began to slowly glow underneath her skin. It then burst forth, traveling in swirling lines through the indentions in the bark, flooding around them in thousands of golden rivers. The gray bark began to darken back to the rich chocolate color; above his head, the crunchy brown leaves were beginning to balloon with moisture, becoming turgid and green once more. The opacity of the fruit-like orbs was reducing to crystal clarity. All the while, he felt Nat’s grip weakening in his own, as the life literally leaked out of her.

“Please. Please help me.”

Jack cried out in alarm as the Tree suddenly heaved. He looked around wildly as the branches began writhing, smacking into the stony surface of the cave and collapsing the ancient stone columns as they thrashed. The wood groaned deafeningly as it shifted. There was a loud splintering, tearing sound, and Jack glanced down to see the trunk of the Tree bulging out of the cabin, effectively collapsing it into rubble and planks that were strewn across the ground as the Tree continued to swell like a balloon.

“What’s happening?!” he cried to Nat.

“Don’t worry,” she smiled reassuringly to him. “The Tree… Is just returning… to its natural form.”

“You mean it’s bigger?!” he shouted as he looked at the snapping branches once more. Indeed, they had grown impossibly larger, bloating to the point that the Tree was becoming cramped in the small cave. They began to twist and curl around one another into disorganized knots. Dust began to rain down from the walls and ceiling as they were pushed to their maximum capacity. “It’s all gonna collapse! Nat!”

“Towards the sun,” she whispered in a garbled, half-conscious command.

Towards the sun the Tree went. Jack was glad that he had found purchase around one of the branches, because the force of the Tree skyrocketing through the hole in the ceiling surely would have sent him plummeting. His head still snapped forward hard enough for his forehead to smack against the hard wood, leaving him reeling for a moment. As his vision swayed before his eyes, he could barely make out large chunks of earth raining through the writhing branches as they literally tore the edges of the hole apart. Whole trees went flying as the Tree burst into the open air, growing taller and taller and spreading out in a sweeping umbrella over the rainforest. The branches untangled as they were allowed free range, unfurling into twisting lines that seemed to stretch onwards for miles. He peered off the edge of the trunk to see the ground a dizzying height below; he turned his head to see that they were higher even than Pitch’s Godzilla-like monstrosity. The Guardians had put up a valiant effort; it was missing one of its small arms and a whole section of its gargantuan head had been blasted away, but it was still roaring and stomping about. As soon as the Tree came into view, it began barreling towards it, jaw wide open to enclose around the trunk.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Jack shouted. He didn’t know if the Tree would be able to handle it, but there was simply too much surface area for him to protect otherwise; he slammed his hand down against the bark and ice immediately flooded forth. In a crashing wave, it shot down the Tree’s surface to explode in a blooming crystal right as the beast tried to tear out a section of the broad trunk. It released a high-pitched scream as the giant clear crystals tore through the roof of its mouth, and then suddenly, the entire dinosaur began to collapse. Jack stared down at its melting form, thinking surely that it couldn’t have been that easy.

Of course it hadn’t.

It seemed Pitch was ready for Round Two. The black sand exploded into watery streams, spreading out like tentacles with the gaunt, scowling man standing at its epicenter. Jack left the shuddering Nat to her devices as he stood tall in the boughs of the Tree, staff clutched in his hand as he glared down at him from the dizzying height. Pitch howled in anger and the sand surged forward towards the branches, looking to rip the limbs from the massive tree. Jack wasted no time in slamming both his staff and his hand against the wood on either side of him, sending trails of ice blasting up the branches for them to explode like sharp pointed flowers at every point that Pitch’s darkness made contact.

“It’s not fair! I killed her!” Pitch screamed up at him and tore at his hair. “I will win! This world will be mine!”

“I won’t let you!” Jack screamed down at him. More sand; more explosions of icy flowers; glittering sand and ice chips falling like rain around them. He set his jaw and squared his shoulders as he pushed himself to his very limits, charging the Tree up with ice from the tips of the leaves to the very tops of the leaves. The sunlight glistened on the frosted, frozen shield he had conjured around it; a layer thick enough to shield from harm but thin enough not to cause damage. “Together, Nat and I will stop you!”

Two sides of the same coin, now broken to face one another and join forces. Jack didn’t know if he could save Nat, but even if he couldn’t, he was going to prove to the whole world that they weren’t opposing forces. United, spring and winter, cold and warmth, Jack and Nathalie— they would join hands to become an unstoppable force of nature.

To defeat Pitch.

To protect the world.

To live up to the name of Guardian.

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