Authors note: Look at me, back at it again with my The Rise Of The Guardians angst. Why? Who knows, certainly not me. Anyway, planning on this to be a multi-chapter, you can read it here WARNING Heads up my friends' graphic gore awaits.
This is a memory. A question is asked, and Jack Frost is lost in the bright, dark colors of a flashback. The vibrant, vengeful kind. It rips through his skull with sparks and bursts in his eyes like a bullet. The rawness courses through his body and every atom like cold electricity.
. . .
One of the things Jack learned when he’s been ripped apart inside out is how his intestines work. How it's all just sacks of flesh, long tubes of muscles that wreath and squirm like slick eels.
His back is in an angle, at his spins middle it’s straight up against the wall, it wouldn't be like that unless it was broken. It’s raining. The sky's a cold grey, the walls are tight and cold. Jack Frost is always cold.
It’s one of those rare moments that Jack’s glad no one can see him.
Another trick he’s learned from seeing his organs ripped out is that it can rearrange itself back to its perfect, proper position. Like snakes looping and settling in place.
Everything's a fog. Static rings in his ears, his mouth feels like it's been stuffed with cotton and copper and his throat had something thick poured down it. He’s so cramped that the walls force his long limbs to crush him. His jaws are clamped so tight he can almost hear his teeth starting to crack.
Things like this have happened before, worse comes to worst Jack Frost will still wake up a few hours later, as if it never happened. Jumper without a stitch out of place, no blood stains, no mess, and no scars. As if time rewinded.
His nerve-endings long numbed. The pain of cuts and bruises or pleasure like grass between his toes and a familiar touch are long lost to him.
Things can still hurt though.
This hurts.
It shouldn't bother him, at this point. Not existing. Existing like this. The absolute numbness, however, will always remain haunting.
His eyes were not closing, his eye-lids were wide open from pain and shock. Yet that didn't stop the world from darkening.
Jack Frost bleeds the color rust. The black, awful kind that stained the suffocating grey walls and no doubt polluted the water. Neck at an odd, broken angle as he looked up to the sky. There were stars, yes. But no moon to witness Jacks long bony frame twisted, torn and tossed in an old forgotten well. Jack didn't know how to feel about that, but the moon never before bothered to make its presence.
What a beautiful night. With the sky clear and stars layered upon stars.
… What a lonely death this was.
It happened the moment Jack Frost could climb out of the well. A long pale arm first, before the wind gently lift his body and scooped him down to the ground.
“You’re a very interesting creature,” A voice echoed through the woods, the wind bristled.
Jack gave a hollow smile as he stared straight ahead, “How so Old Man Winter?”
“You bring the frost,” It came as a low rumble. “You’re supposed to be of my reign, of winter. Mine. And yet,” Old Man Winter towered over Jack Frost. ‘Skin’ made of the hides of frozen pale animals, foxes, wolves, birds, and rabbits rippling and shifting. He also wore a worn wooden mask that had the resemblance akin to an old man with a grin far too wide.
“And yet you’re not.” Old Man Winter leaned closer. “And when I tear you to shreds, your flesh is warm.”
“Thanks,” Jack said flatly. “That’s not disturbing at all.”
The skins above the mask shifted to resemble raised brows, then a snarl. “I murdered you, Jack Frost.”
“You aren’t the first to try.”
Old Man Winter’s voice sounded like the roar of a river, “Your limbs should be twisted in the well I left you in,”
“Really I should be at the bottom of a lake, and yet,” With cold eyes, Jacks lips stretched to a sharp grin with a shrug. “Here we are.”
Old Man Winter’s formless body recoiled. “You’re a threat to my rule.” It came out like a hiss of a snake.
“And what are you going to do about it, Old Man Winter?”
Jack Frost stood with shoulders back, feet firm and hands shaking. Fingers tight around his staff, he swallowed. And Old Man Winter Stood still as if frozen.
“I’ve been burned, melted,” Jack tried to hid the quiver in his voice. “rip to shreds only to be shoved in a well.” Jack Frost walked closer, “I’ve been stabbed, torn and more.” Says Jack Frost, “If there’s a way to finish me off then it has yet to find me.”
Jack’s posture shifted, ready for defense, ready to attack, “How many have you killed ‘to rule’, Old Man Winter?”
Silence. The skins twitched, making it almost look as if each warped animal was cowering with a snarl.
“I’m left with no choice,” Old Man Winter voice was dry, almost hesitant. “But to a duel.”
“To what?” Jack pulled a face, “To the death? Did you just, not listen to a word I said?”
“It’s tradition. As long as you stand I will no longer have the right to the crown. It’s death,” His eyes glowered, “Or victory.”
“If we do this, it’ll be rigged. I’ll outlast you! No matter what you do, I’ll always be the last one standing!” Jack paused, “Look, despite what you think I don’t want to tyrannize over the winter realm and all things wintery. Or kill anyone. Also, this is crazy -”
“You have no choice in the matter.” Old Man Winter had a strange, unreadable expression on his many faces.”
“Says you! I’ll just not go, not participate. Not kill you.”
“Then I’ll never stop.” It was said so simply, its toneation so soft, and almost gentle, that the last thing Jack expected was for Old Man Winter to lunge. Lips wound back tight in a sudden snarl and long claws unsheathed.
Jack doesn't know how long it was. Hours?
Shadows shifted, the woods darken and lighten, the clock ticked. Wherever Jack went he followed-
Days? Months? ...Years?
Everything was sore from overuse and the constant dreadful re-generating. His mind is in a constant blur.
Time has little meaning to a spirit.
The woods plunged into its own constant winter, the harsh, ugly, and grey kind. The only color that showed was red and Jack hated that red- and what he hated most, was that it showed more brightly against all else.
All Jack knows is that it wouldn't stop and it hurts, it kept going on and on and on. And it had to end -
It was so bright, red like fresh pomargamits and so human. It smeared against the trees just like blood was supposed to, it dripped off the leaves before it crystalized into rubies. And the snow had a spread of cinnamon, that's how Old Man Winters bleeds.
In the end, the amount of time doesn't matter. It’s the result.
Of course, Jack dies, over and over and over again. He bleeds the color of rust. The red-black awful kind of color. The kind that darkens and becomes slowly stagnant over time, but, even for a little while, it was warm. Impossibly, absolutely, warm. How else, would’ve it melted the snow?
(There's only so much of this Jack could take.)
It takes a while before Jack realizes that each time the world blackened he loses a shade of color. Each time he dies it smears less and runs more and more like water. There's only so much he can take. This can only end one way. This has to end…
So Jack Frost wins.
Jack wants to do a lot of things.
He wanted a lot of things.
He didn't want to fight. He doesn't want the brown poncho that he wore and his white, white hair to be clean and spotless like this didn't happen, like he didn't do anything. As if he didn't just k-
Jack swallows the bale, his hands are curled close to his chest and his hands clenched onto his staff so tightly that he sure somethings going to have to give, that the bones in his hands are going to fractures and break or his staff will splinter and split.
(Something is going to have to give first.)
(Someone is going to have to-)
Jack’s shaking, So much and so hard that his very bones jitter like a dying insect and it fills him with nausea on top of everything else. Though that must be the trick of the mind because he has nothing in him to throw up, hasn't in years.
Jack wants to sob. To weep, scream, and curse. He wants to fall on his knees, he wants to break down, fall apart, and unravel and Jack knows damn well that the world isn't watching. That nothing, in this god-forsaken universe, would even care to spare a glance.
He’s free to do as he feels but he’s too numb. Deep inside all these emotions and actions are just in arms reach but there's a wall between his brain and body and he’s too tired to do anything, but give a hollow stare at the body.
Already it was stiff, already Old Man Winter lost the fluid movement he possessed.
Jack considers running far away, in the back of his mind. Jack unknowingly, unconsciously had his back turned, ready to walk away until. Then, suddenly, his time in the well and every flash of darkness comes in a violent whirlwind. Making him paralyzed in the eye of the minds storm. Back turned, but unable to move on. Ever so slowly, Jack turns back to the corps.
Who would Jack be, if he didn't at least bury him?
Ever so slowly, he scoops up the stiff body once called Old Man Winter. Jacks hands do nothing but shake the whole time. Not with fear, at least not completely. He’ll bury him, yes. But nothing more. Jack Frost hated him too much for that and Jack was far too tired to do more.
If anyone asks, he’ll answer. Honest and true, but for now the body stays in the woods.
Pitch was fast, and it obvious that he knew that from the way his teeth gleamed when he pulled back on his arrow, aimed squarely onto Sandy’s back.
Pitch was fast, but the wind was faster, and so was Jack Frost.
It went like a blur. Like, a dream. The leap, the push. The arrow piercing from the back to the chest. The blood, the stumble.
Jack’s hands trembled to his chest where the arrow peeked from his blue hoodie.
Rust. Jack Frost bleeds the color of black rust.
His blood was once as red as molten rubies. Or like crushed, ripe raspberries. But that color faded as the centuries past. And even though he’s the in the mist of battle, Jack Frosts wonders if there’ll be a day where he runs dry from red, and bleed only lake water. Because that’s all he bleeds now, old lake water and stagnant blood.
Shedding his thoughts like old skin, he turns around. Despite the rust colored blood running thick up his throat and pouring from the mouth, Jack’s lips pulls to a tooth-stained gleeful grin.
“Hey, boogie man, A shot to the back?” He gurgled. But Jack has long ago learned how to speak with a lungful of liquid. “I thought you were made of fear not cowardice.”
Pitch looked down, gold eyes giving a shine alike to a wildcat’s. Looking both intrigued yet apathetic.
“Well, boy. You weren’t what I was going for. Pity. But I suppose this will do,” Once more, the black sand swirled, shifting as it formed to another arrow and took it’s aim. “I suppose I should put you down in mercy. It tears you from the inside out, eh?”
He wasn’t wrong. Pitch’s Dark sand was inside of Jack Frost, yes. And it was constantly spiking outwards tearing bits of flesh and bone mellow from the inside. Making the skin churn and ripple.
“It hurts, doesn’t it, Jack Frost?”
Jack Frost wasn’t sure about the other Guardians. Where were they? It was probably the nightmares that distracted them. Then again, right now Jack wasn’t exactly a pretty sight.
Pitch was taking an awfully long time to let his arrow fly once more. He crackles, and it makes the kind of noise like white static, “Then again, maybe I should see if the first one finishes the job.” His eyes gleam, “an experiment, if you will,” The arrow dissolves. “Slow deaths were always so delicious after all, though some might argue that’s just preference.”
Here, is when Sandy snaps out of shock and loses it. His face twists and consorts in wrath as all the dreamsand transforms to a storm. And it’s a storm. It’s bigger than life, all while Jack’s safe in the eye of the hurricane
Was Sandy always there? … Huh. That’s nice.
It was too easy, to keep standing. It wasn’t like he could feel it, not really. His nerve endings should’ve brought him on his knees. He should be suffocating with all the blood, water and bits of torn skin clogging at his throat. He should be dead.
But he doesn’t need to breathe, hasn’t for the longest time. His nerve endings have long numbed and seeded deep into his dome, Jack knew enough to know that whoever he is, alive isn’t one of them.
So instead, Jack rolls his neck, bounces on the balls of his feet and march back into battle. Staff still in hand.
The Guardians were lacking, and quite frankly this wasn’t Jack Frost’s first bloody rodeo.
Jack Frost glanced around. Storms, that was the theme Sandy was working with.
Jack’s grin broadens. He could work with storms.
He raises his staff, and all cold hell runs loose.
It was, a joy storm; no other words could describe it. His ice grows and twist up from the ground like gnarled hands. Crushing the life from the nightmares as far as the eye could see. The Snow, the hail rained down like daggers, like thin sheets of clear blue glass.
From the distance, Jack could hear Bunny scowl and it was glorious. “Oi, mate! Ease up on the ice-” Bunny cut himself off and gave a strangled breath as he saw Jack.
Jack gave a warm smile that made more blood ooze from his lips. He was moving with a bit of a hunch now, his core too damaged to support his full weight anymore and he was leaning on his staff. “Now I don’t-” Jack wheezed, more blood gushed. “Look that bad, don’t I?”
Suddenly, the Bunny was gone and down the rabbit hole so to speak.
Jack raised his brows, because wow that was quick.
However, he yelped when Bunny appeared right next to him and swooped him up into his arms.
The wind bristled Bunny’s fur. “We need ta’ get outta here, fast.”
“Yeah, cuz I totally didn’t-” Jack swallowed the bale and the blood. “-Make a snow storm as a distraction, or anything.”
If Jack expected a jab back or banter from Bunny, it didn’t happen.
The blood was starting to crystalize as it made pathways like thick roots down Jack’s arms and dripped down to the snow-white ground. “ ’m fine. Scouts honor.”
Bunny gave a broken laugh, wet and thick. His eyes looked a bit glassy, too. But that had to be Jack’s imagination.
Jack Frost bit his lip and leaned back, he did what he could and eyed his surroundings.
… They were moving? Since when? Moving pretty fast too.
Jack winced as North takes a sharp intake and Tooth makes a terrible moaning sound that was too close to grief.
And North was crying, him and Sandy, although Sandy’s looked more like tears of rage rather than Norths grief and Bunny as well as Tooth looked just angry. With hands balled into fists, hackles raised, teeth shown into a snarl and everything.
Naw, that can’t be right. His view was darkening after all, Jack’s eyes start to get heavy. And, well, that can’t be good because Jack doesn’t sleep. He never sleeps. He wasn’t hearing things right either and the world felt lop-sided.
Red. Jack turns his head and see’s the color red. It’s so pretty, on worn wood like that. So much brighter and so much lovelier then the corrupted red slashed on his chest. They had to be on Norths sled, right? That’s where Jack Frost had to be.
He eyes the other four and gives a warm smile. “Look… guys…” It was getting hard to breathe. Not that Jack need to live, but he need his lungs to speak. “You guys… are freaking out… ov’er… over nothing.” The last word he barely wheezed out.
“Mate, you need to shut the hell up.” Bunny says, “You need to breathe-”
No, I don’t. “Aw, you do” Jack’s head loped to the left, “…care.”
Bunny says nothing as his lips tighten.
Jack’s breath stuttered as his smile faded. “Hey, listen… all of you. Please put me in… in my lake. Please… please put me back. The one in burgess.”
Bunny makes a chuckle that’s just as broken and soft as his laugh. “Look, snowflake, yur not going anywhere, alright? And that’s a pond, mate. Not a lake.”
The other Guardians shoot Bunny a glair as Jack barked a laugh.
“Don’t d-dis my place, ‘k?”
“Build a bridge, then.”
Jack gave Bunny a look, “What… on earth is that… supposed to mean?”
“Get over it.”
North face-palmed. And Jack Frost roared with laughter, blood pooled from his mouth and gushed out of his wound, and the bits of nightmare sand twisted inside as though it was alive.
Jack’s laugh sounded so weak though, even to his own ears. It sounds so small, too easily lost to the howling wind. His chest slowed to a stop as he looked up to the star spotted sky. He forced a breath, he has so much to say. He has so much to say, because god knows when someone can listen.
“You’re all so warm. The stars are warm. Isn’t that funny?” Jack slowly brought up his blood-stained hand. Colors and shapes were fading. “I like being warm… it’s so much nicer then the cold…” Jack focused on the sky again as he shook his head, “I don’t mind though. I have to.” Jack Frost felt the magic, or whatever kept him ‘moving’ slowing to a stop. Jack looks at all the Guardians, “The lake is so cold…”
The world goes black, and Jack goes limp.
. . .
The Guardians looked down at the body because that’s what it is now, with a collective, painful numbness.
Except Bunny. His paws shake and his shoulders tremble. “I told that fuck’en idiot to shut up.”
The sled parked in the north pole cave, and the world felt too still. Jack was too still, and his eyes had yet to close. North couldn’t find it in him to stand. “Even if he did, Aster, there would not been time. Not enough. We used ze snow globe and did what we could,”
“He was just a child.” Tooth’s wings quivered, and her feathers raised like daggers, “We’re the Guardians of childhood and we couldn’t even protect just one.”
The other guardians withered and recoiled from the venom in her voice.
“We know Pitch. We know what he is willing and can do. But we dragged Jack into it anyway! We used his own memories as bait. We dragged a child into a battle because, what? Huh? Because Manny told us to? Because, god forbid if instead he gives us a plan or a strategy or-”
“C’mon Tooth, The man in the Moon-”
“Jack’s dead, Aster. His insides were torn to shreds while he was still alive,” Suddenly Tooth looked so tired and so worn as if she aged a hundred years in a single moment. “What… what excuse can possibly erase that?”
Silence weighed down on the frost-riddled cave.
Gold-tinted tears follow the curves of Sandy’s face. He still hasn’t stop weeping and his chest is stuttering, but as always, no noise. No sound. His eyes never leave Jack’s as the sand above his head form to the shape of Jacks body then a question mark.
“Vhut to do… with body? … Easy, sandy,” North’s legs wobbled as he stood, “We follow Jack’s wishes.”
“We can’t…” Bunny’s fur bristled, “you really expect us to just- just dump Jack’s body like it’s nothing!?” He tightened his hold of Jack’s corpse, “Hide him away from the world like a mistake?!”
“Don’t- don’t say it like that.” Tooth’s wings quivered, her fists shook, and her eyes began to pool over, but not without their fill of fire. “Don’t ever say it like… that.”
Sandy showed an image of Jack looking up at the night sky, like a video tape on record.
“It… it was his last demand, I know,” Bunny blankly looked down upon the bloody body, “I know.”
Slowly, North pulled out a snow globe. “Burgess.” He says. And with a symphony of shattered glass, the Guardians were gone.
. . .
The guardians must’ve followed his wishes because it was the underwater currents that woke Jack up. His eyes snapped open.
Blue and black.
The world, if only for a moment, was a dark, dark blue. A contrast to the moon-white sand that his back was pressed against.
Slowly Jack sat up and placed a hand on his chest. The Nightmare sand must’ve thought it done its job and went back to Pitch or something because it was gone. So was the scar, the once gapping hole, hell. There wasn’t even a scar.
Jack smirked because, ha, knew it. Just per usual, nothing to worry about.
His smile faded though as he looked down his hoodie at his pale, blank chest. There wasn’t even a blood stain, it was like it never happened. As if Jack didn’t even exist.
He slowly looked around at is surrounding, his hair and cloths swayed with the currents.
Currents. The currents always led everything into the same place, the same cycle. If he was right, his body should be around here somewhere. Not like he never saw it before. It also meant that his staff should show up, eventually. Magic or otherwise, It always came back.
Jack Frost stretched his arms, it was a long swim back to the top.
Here was where Jack zoned out a bit, the blue turning into lighter shades and bit by bit, sunlight danced in water. The water around him thickening to ice from the cold he gave off to slushing from his swimming strokes upwards.
Eventually, his eyes peaked above the surface, he must’ve been swimming at an angle because in a few footsteps he would be on the shore.
“HOLY FUCK.” Bunny scrambled back, “fuck, fuck, fuck- What?” He muttered, ears flatting against his skull. “The bloody fuck?!”
Jack made a face, what on earth was Bunny still doing here? He awkwardly drifted in place.
Bunny’s hackles raised as he snarled and jerked a finger at him. “You, you gotta lot of explan’en to do- I just- how?! How mate,”
Jack had frost curling across his cheeks, his eyelids, his lips and his hair, everything that was out of the water. His eyes flickered around nervously, conveying the silent message of; can you please go away?
“Listen up snowflake, I thought you were dead. We thought you were dead. For fuck’s sake you died in my arms we watched you-” Bunny shook his head. “Explain, now.”
Now that Jack was in the winds reach, he drifted off the water and landed next to Bunny close to the shore. He took a step back and raised a finger, asking for a moment.
“Naw mate, when I say now I meant-”
The water that laid rest in Jacks lungs oozed and pooled out of Jack’s mouth, his chest shook and withered into itself as he made a terrible coughing noise until it was all out.
“… Listen,” Jack rubbed the corners of his mouth with his sleeve as he straightened his posture once more, “Just so you know, that was way more awkward for me. No question,”
Brows raised, and jaw open, Bunny look like he had absolutely no idea on what to do with himself.
“So… uh, See?” Jack gave a lopsided smile, “Told you I’d be fine.”
Here, was where Bunny nearly lost it, “And ya didn’t have the mind to tell us that?! More importantly, you knew that this would happen?!”
“Ok, one kangaroo, I did. I told you the absolute best that delirious and bleeding out me could! Not…” Jack faltered. “completely my fault,”
Bunny pinched the bridge of his nose, “Bloody hell mate.”
“And second- don’t make that face I’m about to explain something important here, second;” Jack gestured to his completely healed self, “ I don’t know the details, exactly. But the couple times I had a really bad fight this is what happened afterwards, alright?”
“This isn’t the first time you died?!”
“It’s like, second or third dozen. Get with the program Bunny, anyways, when it comes to the physical, minor stuff, nothing happens. Not a scratch, I’m fine. magical? On the other hand? Well, you saw that.” Said Jack.
“What…” Bunny glanced at the shore, “does the pond have anything to do with it?”
“Lake, Bunny. I just died here, again, I get to call it a lake.” Jack shrugged. “And honestly? Nothing. I reformed out of it before, it’s just a mixture of preference and it’s the least likely place where anyone can watch me reform, cuz sorry, the possibility of you guys watching my rotting body do whatever it does just, isn’t an attractive idea to me.”
“… Weirdest logic by far, but fair dinkum, I suppose?” Bunny says blankly. “Sorry just… this’s a lot to prosses. ‘m feel’en real conflicted right now. Deck you? Celebrate? No clue, it’s all up in the air.”
“Fair, I guess,” Jack drifted up a few feet into the air, looking around. “But, hey, uh. Do you guys have my staff, by any chance?”
“Yeah, it’s, well. Mate, It’s in Norths place.”
Jack briffted back down a bit. “Alright.”
“You were dead for about an hour.”
“… Okay? Good to know?”
“All rest are still in there, I recon.”
Oh. “Someone’s going to kick my ass, right?”
Bunny gave a sly smirk. “Probably.”
“oh. Wonderful.” A pause. “And Pitch is still at large so we need to get back as soon as possible?”
“Yup.”
Jack rubbed his eyes, “Great.” Jack hesitated before he peaked between his fingers, “Bunny?”
“hmm?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but, uh.” Jack lowered his hands, “What were you doing by my lake?”
“… We Pooka grieve differently.” There was something solemn in Bunny’s voice, distant. “We contemplate how he knew them, meditate, what-not. The others wanted to do their own ceremony from their own cultures cuz what you asked for was… not specific.”
Jack shifted, frost flaking thickly down his arms, his torso, and his legs now that he was properly out of the water.
“Anyways, they got the staff before it would go where, uh, where the rest of ya was. And I got… and I got here.”
Jack honestly has no clue on how to properly respond to that. “I’m… I’m sorry, that made you guys go through… through that.”
Bunny gave him an odd look before he shook his head. “Don’t matter much now, but yer gonna have to take the tunnels with me back, I don’t think the others would believe me if I got there first an’ there’s no way I’m keeping my yap closed for a moment about this.”
don’t talk to my mutuals enough--- actually, I never have but, you guys are great to keep up the good work !! stay positive even though the world might be shit it's a new year and idk fuck it be happy !!!!!! >:0
