yo! My people!
Yeah, ah, yeah I know I should be updating the Stark Twins and The Little Guys and a Choice in Time–(all three of which are being written when this was not)- and I want to give cookies to all of my amazing followers and reviewers.
BUT!
I got this idea during History, and it stuck in my head like a Captain Jack Harkness to a TARDIS (you whovians out there will now understand how hard it was).
So I am starting a one-shot series! Requests will be taken! Crossovers are permitted and encouraged (if I know about the crossover subject)!
Without further adieu, I give you—
Valley Forge: Jack Frost
That year was one of the worst Jack ever endured.
It was winter– he knew it was his time to bring the season. But it had just been a short few decades since he had woken up at that pond, and he still didn't have a good grip on his powers. Any strong emotions would still result in a blizzard.
He was flying somewhere above what he had learned was called the colonies. He knew there were thirteen, but that they only covered a small portion of this huge area of earth around him.
And for a long time, he'd watched people–humans, who could see and talk to each other– appear out of nowhere, far away across the flat ocean, riding the water in these massive wooden structures that had lots and lots of cloth at the top. He'd watched as the town-criers sent messages from a few people the colonists called The King, His Majesty, His Grace, King George, and a few mentions of someone called That Rotten Tyrant. The messages imposed taxes, which apparently made people lose money. Jack watched the events unfold, and resisted the desire to join in on what history would call the Boston Tea Party, mourned the losses of the Boston massacre, and tried to throw the red coats off the trail of Paul Revere as best as he could.
So by the time the war, he considered himself a Patriot Soldier in all respects except officially.
Jack had been traveling the winter with the Troops of General George Washington, who apparently was a pretty good commander. Unfortunately, he'd suffered several defeats against this well-funded army, and had retreated to a place called Valley Forge to train his troops.
If there was one thing anyone would remember about Valley Forge...it would be that it was the coldest winter if the war.
Jack knew it was his fault. Just by being around he could make a room colder. The men were all camped out in huts, trying shelter from the freezing weather, and Jack remained outside, staying away from the fires. Again, he knew that the chilly weather was his fault, but some stupid desire made him stay. He knew no one could see him, and that it mattered to no one if he left, but he couldn't bring himself to desert the army, as several already had. And besides, cold couldn't kill anyone...could it?
Jack was forced to watch as conditions in camp worsened. Soldiers got sick, and died. They died of starvation. They died of disease.
Then, he watched as Washington became his hero. The military leader brought in new men, strong different men, who yelled a lot and said things that made the half-frozen Americans rise and train. They'd run at sacks of flour if the men told them to, yelling fearsome cries. He watched as they got stronger, as they got better. Even Jack participated, wielding his staff like they did their bayonets and yelling until his throat was hoarse.
But it was still cold. It still froze. At this rate, Washington wouldn't have any men left. It began to dawn on Jack that he would have to leave if he wanted this war to be won and done—he was the reason so many men were dying. He couldn't take winter away with him, of course, but he might be able to lessen the chill. The best he could hope for was to find troops farther up north in the patriot-occupied cities, where the men could stay in warm houses and eat regular meals.
Jack could have just flown off. But something still wriggled in his stomach. He couldn't just leave- there was something in him that refused to permit it. He needed to tell someone. He needed to give a reason...even if no one even heard it. Making up his mind, Jack searched for General Washington. As the official leader, he would need to know why one of his soldiers was leaving.
Jack found the man sitting at the edge of the clearing around a small fire with a few soldiers as if he were one of them. The man was writing in a journal–or, at least that's what Jack assumed he was doing– Jack didn't know how to read or write. But the figures the man was drawing looked a bit different than actual 'letters...' Jack tore his eyes away. He had a job to do. He stood slightly behind the general, who was sitting in the snow, and slightly to the side.
He hesitated, "Sir," He started, playing unconsciously with his coat buttons, "I know I cannot actually talk to you in private—"
Jack's awkward start was cut off as the general suddenly stood, his eyes still on his work, and walked a few feet away from the warmth of the campfire and the chatter of the men, still intently drawing.
After a moment, a bewildered Jack followed him, and stopped in the same position.
"Sir," he tried again. Washington shifted in time, like he heard Jack; the boy held his breath, but the general didn't look up.
Jack released his breath. "Sir, I have to leave." He tried to ignore how Washington's head seemed to cock in an almost questioning manner; the man couldn't hear him. "I have absolute loyalty to the you, sir, and the patriot forces...but..." Emotions bubbled up inside Jack. Oh, why could anyone just see him?! Why did he have to do this, and feel so silly and helpless—and—and—not real?!
"Sir, I have powers," Jack suddenly said, coming out of his mouth in a harsh chuckle. He began to pace behind the general, his hands gripping his hair. "Powers of winter, and I'm making it cold. It is my fault your men are dying, so I have to leave."
Something in him snapped as Washington sat up straight—like he could hear Jack.
"I am just so weary, sir! So weary of being unseen, of being a ghost! I want to do something, I want to age! I want to be real, sir!"
With that, something in Jack seemed to release, to deflate. All the horrible fire that had just filled him goes out, and he sighed. He straightened his back and placed his hands primly at his sides, like he had practiced countless times. He sharply saluted Washington.
"Godspeed, sir," Jack whispered, and turned to leave.
"If I had known that, Private Frost, I would have approached you sooner."
Jack whipped around to face Washington. He watched with absolute shock as the commander turned to face him—and Washington looked straight at him.
Washington's blue eyes twinkled. "I had thought to leave you to your own devices, for I thought you wished for solitude. But I see my fault, and I take this opportunity to thank you for your loyalty, sir."
Washington saluted to a gaping Jack.
"And..." The man seemed to consider something, his head tilting. "And I have an offer for you, should you wish to stay."
"But..." The words twisted in Jack's throat, leaving him tongue tied. "How can you see me?" His voice was a weak rasp, his knees felt like water. Surely, surely this was a dream?
"My grandmother often told me stories of an elusive boy with the powers of winter–she talked of how he protected her when she was young. Her name was Emma Overland."
Emma Overland.
The name sung in his heart. He remembered the wonderful girl–he thought she couldn't see him, but he always tried to keep her safe from people who mocked her, telling her that she was a murderer! She was not!
"I have always believed in the stories, even as I advance in my years," Washington continued. "Yet, when I saw you arrive, I could hardly believe it. And now," He finished, "About the job I have for you–"
"I will do it."
Washington raised his eyebrows. "Are you certain? It will not be easy, and it will most certainly be dangerous."
"Sir," Jack stood straight and proud. "I will do anything for my country."
What do you think? I know IM begging for death here, starting another cliff story. But just leave requests for any feels of your choice! Enjoy!
Review!
