Jack always heard the prayers sent his way. There were so many, something he couldn't have said all but thirty years ago, that they blurred inside his head.

Jack Frost this.

Jack Frost that.

He heard every word, every thought after his name ran through a child's head. Jack wished he could hear them all. The voices were a reminder that people believed—that he didn't have to worry about becoming an invisible Guardian once again. At least, not anytime soon. Still, the fear that the prayers wouldn't return after he drowned them out with quiet never faded from his soul.

The girls' voice echoing through his mind right now was one he'd heard loads of times before; this wasn't her first time pleading for snow. For company. For help. Though he ached to listen and oblige, he'd learned pretty quickly that he wasn't physically capable of solving every child's problems, no matter how big or small. He made to blur her out along with the others as he usually did, but a sudden broken hook in her voice made him hesitate.

Please, she cried, all but an echo around him, I can't stand it anymore. I love her, more than the world itself, but she... I thought I was going to die this morning. Really, this time. Those were the words that gripped Jack's attention. The emotion behind them rippled the air around him. It felt almost as if they were pushing a heavy rush of pain inside of his stilled heart. It makes me wonder whether she would actually be capable of doing it. I want to believe that she would never harm a hair on my head, but I'm not so sure anymore. Just... Please, Jack, if you're out there, she hesitated as if she meant to say something else. Instead, she settled with: I've always wanted to see snow.

The tightness in his chest eased suddenly, like a near-bursting balloon was finally loosing some of its air. Jack rubbed at his head, trying to ignore the plead like he did most everyone else. These prayers usually came from little kids who wanted him to rescue them from the pure inconvenience of school with snow days. The casual conversations usually came from oblivious parents who didn't even know their words were watched over at the mere mention of Jack Frost. But this girl... Jack had never felt such overwhelming feeling coming from one, single person. Not through any prayer, anyway.

He tried to let it go, but the fear, the sadness, the hope—it devoured him whole. It made his head spin, and his soul acknowledge again that there was something important he was missing.

Jack set both of his bare feet down into the snow. Still clenching his wooden staff, he brought both hands to his head in a failed attempt to get himself back together. To drown out the constant flow of Jack's running through his head like a chant for his own, personalized cult. He struggled to silence them again, but the girls' words were still so fresh.

Without a second's thought, he twisted the winds around him and flew up to North's Workshop, which stood tall and proud above him. Jack had been in the North Pole for a few days now, helping North out with the place. With the rush of Christmas approaching, things were getting a bit busy.

And that was putting it mildly.

Sneaking about the Workshop unnoticed was a hard task to accomplish, especially with the high numbers of yeti's and elves constantly skittering about everywhere, but being invisible was something Jack happened to have centuries of experience with. Some would say this particular skill wasn't something to be proud about considering the circumstances of his position. Jack said it an awfully handy thing... When he wasn't forced into doing it.

Jack grunted as he pushed open the door to North's private quarters minutes later. He was just about to step inside when something long and suspiciously furry suddenly collided with his back, sending him hurling ruthlessly to the other side of the room. Jack lifted his arms above his head as he crashed into the tall shelves lining North's wall, slivers of pain lining through him as a shower of toys (and other useless knick-knacks) rained down around him, many of them not even thinking twice about aiming for his head. If he were anything less than a winter spirit, the damage would have hurt much more than it did now.

A jar shamelessly fell into his lap once everything else was done with their dramatics. It was small, with intricate designs. It was beautiful from the outside. Absolutely mesmerizing, something he'd never seen before, yet already felt so enraptured by. Was the lid as tightly shut as it appeared, or could he—?

Bunnymund's relieved exhale snapped him back to the situation at hand. "Phew," the familiar, oversized rabbit said as he stood in the doorway. "Thought I saw an apparition for second there." His narrowed gaze drifted across the room, making a point to miss Jack completely.

Jack scowled and stumbled to his feet, brushing at his tight-fitting, bark-brown pants. "Funny," he said, rubbing at his head of stark white hair. "Thought I felt a kangaroo's foot on my back, but it's just you."

Bunny stomped a long, grey foot down. "Bunny," he bit out, always so protective over his Guardian role. "Easter bunny."

Jack grinned slightly at his irritation. Picking at him had become somewhat of an entertaining game Jack loved to play. It made his time at the Workshop that much less of a bore. Still, as much as he pretended otherwise, he had trouble brushing off Bunny's jab.

Apparition.

The reminder still stung, despite how much time had passed. When the moon chose him to help the Guardians fight Pitch Black, the world renown boogeyman, three decades ago in his renewed attempts to plague fear over Earth as he'd done centuries back, Jack himself had nearly been pulled in by the allure of darkness. Pitch's promise that this would be the end of Jack's isolated existence had almost selfishly turned him against the other Guardians. Loneliness had made him desperate for notice. Not many believed in the spirit of winter—why would they when there was already the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus to praise?—which meant he'd been cursed to an eternity of undesired solitude. Invisible to the world, despite his presence on it. Like a ghost, felt in presence, but lost in sight.

An apparition.

Jack moved past Bunny, successfully shifting his features into indifference. "Where's North?" He asked.

"Gettin' things ready for Christmas!" Bunny exclaimed in his thick, Australian accent. As if Jack was the Guardian of stupidity instead of fun. "Where'd you think he is?"

Jack rolled his eyes and pressed Twinetender, his staff, against the floor to push himself up into the air. Bunny kept up with him easily as he moved across the Workshop, but the gentle, indoor winds caressing his body helped ground Jack's busy mind, despite the kangaroo's nearby presence.

He found North just exiting the main workshop. A wide grin spread over his face when he spotted the winter spirit. "Jack!" He said, voice as gruff as ever. With a swift movement, he pushed up the sleeves of his red coat and crossed thick arms, proudly flashing the naughty and nice tattoos on his forearms. "Funny, I was just thinking about you! The yetis—"

"I'll test out their toy soldiers later." Jack interrupted. "I have something a bit more pressing to—"

"More pressing than Christmas?" North exclaimed, Russian accent heavy. He pressed his palms to his temples in disbelief.

"Of course not," Jack easily brushed the subject off. "I just need to know—is it possible to find a prayer?"

North frowned at the question and turned to Bunny. Irritation pulsed through Jack at what was an obvious dismissal. "Bunnymund," North started excitedly. "Do you mind testing out the toy soldiers for the yetis? You'd be a big help! They love having something as equally furry as them around."

Bunny eyed Jack and North, now sporting the irritation Jack had worn only seconds ago, but he hopped away into the workshop nonetheless, nose twitching in silent protest. As soon as he was out of sight, North returned his bright blue gaze to Jack. He lead him into a casual walk. "I've never followed a thread," North confessed to Jack as quietly as his naturally loud voice let him,"but Sandy has plenty of experience. I'm sure he wouldn't mind coming to show you."

Jack nodded. A thread. He'd never heard the prayers called that before.

Suddenly, North dropped a heavy hand on Jack's shoulder. "Why do you ask such a thing now?"

Jack looked away as they approached the Globe Room. "I don't know," he started, finding it all too hard to explain. North said nothing, giving him time to find his words as he explained the recent plead to him in detail, and even those before. But this one... It was a strange experience, one that had left him with an odd sense of urgency. And when he looked at the moon through the circular window in ceiling above, he swore he could see it nod in approval. In shared urgency.

North pulled thick, white brows together when Jack was done. "Now, I'm not saying I don't believe you," he said. "Not at all. But you're sure of this?"

"Yeah," Jack said, confusion prickling him.

North nodded, closing the big doors behind them. His brows were still bushy and furrowed. "You know very well prayers are meant to be heard. But, not once in my extremely long existence have I heard of one that was felt."

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A huge shout to Andrew Theophilopoulos on Art Station for the beautiful creation I used as a header image! Go check out their other pieces!(https://www.artstation.com/artwork/G2wEW)

*Edited, (January 2nd, 2020).