Jack was slowly getting used to more and more kids seeing him now, but he hadn't expected to be seen by an adult. Oh, he was sure Jamie, Sophie, and the gang would still see him as they got older, but that was because it was hard to deny the existence of someone you saw every Saturday and who had sort of accidentally maybe been responsible for that scar on your left hand you got during the infamous Loki-weasel-zucchini-Bunny incident.
Don't ask.
But growing up was still years away for the lot of them, so when the man's eyes landed on Jack, he figured the man was looking at something behind him. He did look vaguely familiar, but Jack didn't think much of it. He'd probably pranked the man a year or two back or something. He did that to so many of the far too serious, fresh out of college businessmen that he couldn't possibly remember them all perfectly.
Then the man's eyes had gotten very wide, and he was running across the street - it was a busy street too, he could have gotten hit - to grab Jack's ankle from where he was perched on the fence.
"Hey!" The yelp was more startled than indignant.
"You're real," he said wonderingly.
"That's what they tell me."
"I saw you. A minute ago. You were making frost on the houses."
Other people were giving the crazy man talking to nothing a wide berth. Jack was feeling a little uneasy himself although admittedly for different reasons. "I'm Jack Frost. It's my job."
"But it's magic! Isn't it?"
And that was . . . strange, not the words, but the way he said them. Like magic wasn't an impossibility but something he'd been desperately looking for, longing for like Jack had for visibility. Too desperate, too sharp, and the hand around his ankle suddenly too tight like he was afraid Jack would fly away,
Jack held on to his staff a little tighter. "Yes? Why do you care? How can you even see me?"
"He was real," the man muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. "They were real, they were all real." He slumped suddenly, his grip loosening. "And now they're gone." He stumbled away, fully letting go. "They're dead."
Jack's curiosity got the best of him. "Who's gone?"
He wasn't sure if the man was really answering him or just talking to himself, but he said the names either way. "Gwen. Gwaine. Merlin - "
Jack leaped up. "Wait. Wait, did you say Merlin? Like the warlock Merlin?"
The man nodded tiredly. "I know, I know. It's just a legend." He laughed bitterly. "Even to you, apparently."
"No, I know him!"
The man froze. "What?"
Jack remembered where he'd seen him before. "He called up an image of you once for me. I can't wait to see his face when I tell him I found you - You are Arthur, right?"
The man nodded, desperate hope shining in his eyes. "He's still alive? Where is he?"
"England, of course. He's waiting on you." Jack laughed. "This is perfect!"
"I need to get on a plane. Be more specific. I need an address, come on - "
Arthur dragged his invisible friend to the airport and boarded the first plane to London. Jack chattered all the while.
. . . . .
A/N: Set in same 'verse as my first crossover for these two. Arthur was reborn, but instead of Ygraine dying in childbirth, both of his parents were killed in a car wreck. (Which may or may not have been an accident. Morguase was not available for comment.) Arthur was adopted by good people, but they were completely oblivious to what was really going on. He started having dreams about Camelot, but since he'd been separated from his birthplace, he didn't meet up with any of the others who were being reborn. He assumed he was either crazy or alone, neither option being particularly appealing. Fortunately, it's all good now.
