A/N: Yay, my first fanfiction. I watched Rise of the Guardians yesterday, and I felt the need to ruin it with my bad fanfiction. So basically, this takes place during Sandy's funeral/memorial thingy in the movie. I added and changed a few things though.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians.


Jack finds it hard to breathe as he watches the Guardians mourn the death of their friend. He hangs in the background and simply stares at the floor. Tooth is crying, choked sobs wrenching out of her throat and shaking her thin frame. Bunnymund and North gaze sadly at the words carved in the ground.

The sadness in the room is overpowering.

North looks over at the weeping Tooth and gently takes her hand. She looks surprised for a moment, but soon accepts the gesture. They all realize how important it is to stay together now. Bunnymund repeats the action with North.

The silence is deafening.

Jack digs his nails into his arms, and rapidly blinks. His throat feels stuck, and each swallow is dry.

No one says a word, and the room is quiet, with the exception of a few sniffles from Tooth.

The floor has never seemed more interesting than it does now.

A single feather falls from Tooth, and it lands on the ground. For a second, everyone stares at the feather. All eyes are locked on the seemingly insignificant object. Tooth scoops it up in her hand. The feather is crushed, and, with a scream of anguish, the fairy sinks to the floor, bawling into her hands.

Jack can't bear to be here for another moment. He turns and walks out of the room.

But the feeling, the one that makes his heart ache and his throat burn, doesn't go away.


Feelings are actually quite new to Jack. In all of the 300 years of his existence, he has mainly known happiness and some loneliness. Grief, anguish, horror, fear, and guilt are foreign, and he does not quite know how to deal with them. He absentmindedly traces intricate patterns on fragile glass with his finger.

When Pitch's arrow sunk into Sandy's back, Jack experienced a strange jolt inside of him. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs and his breath quicken. What was that? Horror? Fear? He suspects that it was both. Has he felt something like that before? He doesn't think so. At least, not in this life, the life that he can remember. He has never really cared about someone long enough to be able to.

Jack knows, for a fact, that he was feeling guilt when he watched Tooth cry. Guilt is very unfamiliar to him. He has never felt bad for anything before, really. Not for messing up Easter, not for hitting kids with snowballs, not even for causing cars to crash on icy roads. But this...this was something different. He cared about Sandy, because Sandy was the first person he considered a true friend, and then, Sandy got killed because of him. Maybe Jack is meant to be alone.

And now, his mind is plagued with 'what ifs'

What if he could have gotten to Sandy sooner...

What if he could have stopped Pitch from firing the arrow...

What if, what if, what if.

Jack assumes that the 'what ifs' are a part of guilt.

Grief and anguish, those are obviously from losing a friend.

A friend. Another alien concept to him.

Jack is tired of the strange feelings and terms.

Confusion. Well, that's not new.

And then, there's always the last emotion.

The one he tries to keep hidden away, the one he does not want to acknowledge, the one he wishes he could be without.

Rage.


False smiles and forced laughs are useful in masking the truth. Jack uses these with a mastery that he should not have.

In truth, he hates the moon. The moon put him here, cursed him into a world where no one could see him, where no one could touch him, where no one believed in him. The moon stole his memories and left him to rot on Earth for centuries, before finally handing him a purpose. And even then, the moon did not tell him. The moon told the guardians.

"The man in the moon chose you, Jack."

"T-the man in the moon...wait, he talks to you?!"

(He talks to them.)

(He talks to them.)

(He does not talk to you.)

(He. Talks. To. Them.)

Every night wasted praying, pleading, begging for an answer, were all useless, because the moon probably hadn't even been listening to him. All that time that he spent asking the moon for even the slightest clue of why he exists, the moon had ignored him, and talked to the Guardians.

He hates the Guardians too.

They only pick him up now, instead of sometime along the past 300 years. They only bother to spare him a second glance because only now do they need him! And when they are done needing him, he'll just go back to being trash again.

Jack wonders if his hate makes him like Pitch.


A part of him actually agrees with Pitch.

"Maybe, I want what you have! Maybe, I want to be believed in!"

Jack finds too many similarities between him and the Nightmare King to be comfortable.

Pitch's goal is driven by the need to be believed in. Jack knows this feeling. He's been walked through and ignored, and unheard, and unseen.

He just wants to be seen.

He just wants to be heard.

Is that too much to ask?


The light sheet of frost on the glass has grown larger, the pattern extending to the very top. He rests his head against the glass and raises a hand to touch the pattern. A single tear leaks out of his eye. It freezes before it hits the ground, and shatters into a million pieces upon impact. A lump has formed in his throat, and his heart hurts. He does not want to think about what he is feeling now, but it comes to him anyway.

Loss.


So yeah, it's probably really disjointed and hard to follow, but oh well.