𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐂𝐄 》 JACK FROST

XXIII. You're Not My Jack

YOU'RE NOT MY JACK

2007 AD
1st March, 10:14 PM
The sky

Jack panted, he was zooming across the sky, just below the clouds. His eyes were strained, dark bags decorating the underside of them as he blinked, forcing them open. Every few minutes, he would lose altitude, falling before he realised what was happening and would fly higher again.

He hadn't rested in days. Sleep was a luxury he could no longer afford. And even if he did have time to spare, he would be kept awake by guilt tormenting him. Thoughts of how Agatha probably wasn't sleeping. That she was too scared to, maybe in too much pain to - so how could he sleep when Agatha's condition was unknown?

Contact with the Guardians no longer existed. They hadn't spoken since he had left them. They had tried to contact him, of course they had. In fact, the mortals were beginning to watch the sky, scientists doing all sorts of experiments as to why the northern lights were so active as of late. Jack knew, be just didn't care.

They were going to abandon Agatha, so he abandoned them.

At least they weren't in Pitch's hands.

A yawn cut his train of thought off, and with a start Jack realised he was beginning to fly lower again. He blinked away the blurriness in his eyes, glaring below him to force himself to focus more. She had to be somewhere. Even if that somewhere wasn't anywhere he knew.

In fact, looking around, Jack realised he had no idea where he was. For miles and miles, the only living thing he could see were trees that stopped below. Maybe that was a good sign, Pitch wouldn't hide Agatha anywhere the Guardian's had found him before.

Jack kept his eyes trained on the trees, it was hard to see anything under their thick canopy. So Jack dropped down a few feet, straining to see. As he got closer, he could hear the animals. It was calm and peaceful, but there was also a sense of comfort. Jack yawned again. He could use some of that right now.

It was almost like the trees were speaking to him.

Smiling faintly, Jack decided it was probably time for some rest. Who knew what Agatha would say to him if she could see how badly he was treating himself. Jack elegantly swept down towards the tree, stopping to hover just as the tallest ones tickled the soles of his feet before he slowly began to lower himself, being careful to avoid any branches or animals as he searched for a steady branch to sleep on.

Finding one that was pretty low to the ground, but far enough up that he would see anything approaching before they saw him, Jack settled down. His back against the trunk, his leg on the branch, one swinging below him, he clutched his staff, arms crossed, and slowly succumbed to sleep,

''Stupid trees. Tripping me up like that, what's wrong with you? You don't see me trapping you in my home just to make you fall over.''

Jack smiled in his sleep, Agatha's voice was reassuring. He would find her soon, ask her why she was grumbling angrily at trees.

''Ow! For gods saket... Maybe I should invest in shoes.''

Jack hummed in agreement.

Wait...

His eyes snapped open and his back shot off from the tree, the rest joining him as he hovered in mid air, staff at the ready as he span, searching frantically.

And then - there she was. Her cloak was open, her had never seen that before, underneath she wore an elegant black dress that stopped underneath her shoulders, lace wrapping around them and assumable down her arms too, like sleeves. Her hood was down, revealing her hair that was matted with the humidity of the forest - or was it a jungle. Jack wasn't experienced enough to know the difference, (he was immortal, why would he spend his time bothering to learn).