Born of Cold and Winter Air

Where the Wind Blows

(Notice: I am changing up some of Jack's storyline, age, and general assumptions of his physical aspects. Bear with me friends... It will weave together nicely in time. Take a listen to the song above while reading, and also grab a peek at the awesome JF pic I found!.)

He was somewhere over Scandinavia when he first felt it. A warmth spreading throughout his body, reaching all the way to the tips of his toes. He froze mid flight, clutching his staff tightly in his right hand. Jack silenced his thoughts, waiting for the sensation to reoccur; surely he had to have imagined it? After all, though the cold never bothered him, it was his constant state of being. During summer's climax, the heat never seemed to penetrate the cold of his flesh. Could you even call it flesh? He was never able to touch a mortal, let alone be seen by one. Many times he should have suffered injury from his carelessness and dangerous stunts, but whether it was due to his immortality or perhaps him possibly being a ghost, he was never hurt. While the commodity seemed to leave much to desire, to him it was a constant reminder that his existence was not in his control.

Several minutes had passed and nothing changed. Convincing himself that it was all in his head, Jack closed his eyes and called on the wind to carry him on. His body sailed with the current, as if he were made of only air. Arms crossed behind his head, he hummed a tune he had picked up at a monastery in Mongolia.

"It's time." The wind breathed.

Jack's humming halted, his heart thudding hard in his chest as he once again paused. There was no mistaking that for his imagination. His eyes cast to the moon, listening in desperation for another word.

"It's time, Jokul."

"Time for w-," a heat surged beneath his ribcage and billowed throughout his extremities. Jack clutched painfully at his chest, crying out into the dark and silent night. A blast of wind captured him, taking him as it's prisoner, spinning his body out of control. He fought against it, willing himself to break free, but there was no controlling the wind. Not even his staff could help him now. He was at the mercy of whatever the hell was happening.

*****

He heard the glass shatter before he felt himself go through it; body tumbling and slamming against the floor before finally coming to a stop. His head spun uncontrollably for what seemed like hours. Slowly rising from the floor and on to his feet, he dusted off his breeches and cloak. "What the hell?" He walked towards the ruined window in complete dismay. A sharp stab in his bare foot stole his attention with an even greater surprise. "Fuck!"

He bent over, grasping at his injured foot, amazed to see the shard of glass protruding from his pale skin. A swell of blood formed at the wound site when he pulled away the foreign object. "Seriously...what the hell?"

"Who are you?" A nervous voice asked from behind him. Jack's head snapped around, eyes darting over to the bed where a young woman crouched defensively. Her gaze trained on him with such a ferocity there was almost no denying that she could see him.

His body lifted into the air and floated towards her. "You can see me?" Jack's eyes roved over the woman's face, searching for confirmation of what he hoped was true. He drew closer to the bed, now aware that woman was sparingly clothed in just her thin shift.

"Don't come any closer! I demand you tell me who you are!" Her voice was firm and it took him by surprise. She seemed so delicate for someone with such spirit.

"My name is Jack. Jack Frost." He exalted. His fingers tingled with want. He wanted so much to reach out to her, to feel the way her skin felt against his. He yearned for physical contact with another person; he had for over two hundred years.

The woman's eyes widened, mouth agape with incredulity and sheer confusion. "Excuse me? Wh-what did you just say?"

Jack's gaze left her face and for the first time noticed her hands. Their blue black shade sent a shiver up his spine; he had only seen that once before. The room, once swirling with sleet and a biting wind stilled to a suspended calm. Jack's eyes lit up in astounded wonder. Curiosity pulled him closer to her, inches from her face, his hand reaching out to touch her; his heart paused, anticipating disappointment.

"I said my name is Jack."

******