Title: Frostbitten
Synopsis: Jackson Overland, the miracle boy that had escaped death. Jack Frost, the mysterious spirit trying to find his purpose in this world. They were two sides of the same coin and equal in ignorance. The air was frigid with the cold, but together there was warmth.
Rating: T but may or may not change
Pairing: Frostcest

He had escaped death not once but twice in less than a month. The first time was in December. He had taken his little, precious, baby sister out ice skating. They had not realized the ice was too thin. He had saved her from the cracking ice beneath her skates only to plumet into the frigid waters himself. He was sure death would take him. He did not know how to swim, could not move from the cold that paralyzed him, and could not breathe as icy water filled his lungs.

Something caught him though, just when he thought it was over. Something hooked around him and pulled him out of the water just before he blacked out. When he awoke, he felt hot and delirious.

He was home, in his bed, alive. But fever had set in. He was diagnosed with pneumonia and the doctor was not sure he would even make it. His young sister stayed beside him the entire time, tending to him. His mother had to feed him. His father bathed him. He was far too weak to so much as lift his head.

He honestly could not remember anything from that time. He had brief glimpses of his mother praying beside him and his sister laid snow on his head to try and cool him down. The doctor had some leeches that he used to try and drain the sickness and he remembered wiping them off in disgust.

There was a lot of dreams, too. They were very vivid. He was skating on ice, fantastic fern-like patterns following him. He was in the air, touching the clouds. He was a ghost and people walked right through him.

When the fever finally broke, he felt maybe perhaps he was still experiencing delusions. He felt as if he was no longer whole. There had to be a chunk of him missing. Maybe. It was hard to say for sure. Well, all of him was still there physically. Maybe he lost his mind. Did he ever even have one?

It was halfway through January when Jackson Overland had recovered completely. His sister, Jill, was overly ecstatic. His parents, James and Johanna, were thanking the Lord for his good fortune. He survived. He would live when so many would have parished. This boy was a miracle.

He had survived drowning in a pond. He had beaten back disease. He had lived.

When Jackson was told of his feats (for he had even forgotten that he had gone skating), he was amazed. His little sister had managed to pull him to the surface of the water, using the hooked staff he used to save her. She could not pull him out of the water, but she kept him afloat until her screams summoned assistance. One of the men from the village pulled him out and resuscitated him.

How was he alive? The God his parents and the rest of his village was so fond of and feared must have loved him or had bigger plans for him. Jackson was never quite the religious type. His parents assumed in his youth it was because of his young ignorance, but the disbelief never really left him. He never cared enough about the gospel, the bible, and all of those silly rules that the believers followed. He did not patronize anyone for their faith, he just chose to not abide by it. His mother sworn he would be damned. But here he was, alive when he should not be by any means. This God must have been merciful. His mother had hoped that this would restore faith within the boy.

Nope. Jackson continued to show no interest in religion. Of course, in the village, he had to put on a show he was just as God-fearing as they were lest he be cast out and shamed. His parents did their best to hide away he's heathen ways, but it wasn't like he was sinning. He was a good man. He had morals from his upbringing. He just did not fear hell nor anticipate heaven.

The last few days of his recovery, Jackson contemplated his position. How had he lived? And was he truly becoming well? While he had felt 100% better, there was still something… off. Like a limb that never existed had been removed. Something was missing. He had done an inventory on his body and it seemed everything was still there. Maybe except for his sanity, but the boy never really had it to begin with. At least, he thought so. Well, maybe it was because of his insanity that he felt this way. That had to be it.

When Jackson was given the okay to be able to move around again, he jumped with joy. He went outside in the snow, hardly dressed for the weather, and did a cartwheel and back flip. His sister stood on the porch, clapping happily. He grinned at her and took her into his arms before falling back into the snow and rolling around with her. Their parents begged them to come inside. Jackson was going to get sick again and God-forbid Jill came down with something.

Jackson carried the girl inside and lifted her up, spinning her. He could now be properly grateful that she was safe from harm. That she had lived that near-tragedy at the pond. He would have very willingly given his life for hers. But she had been able to spare him from that. She had turned around and saved him. She was the hero in all of this.

Jackson did whatever she wanted. He was putty in her hands. He wished he could give her the world. That night, he gave her piggyback rides around the cabin, played whatever game she wanted, and attempted braiding her hair, only because she asked to have it braided for bed. He also gave her a portion of her meal when she asked for more. The family had not been able to gather enough food for the unexpectedly harsh winter and were running on rations. They barely made enough to survive. But Jill was hungry and, even though Jackson had lost a lot of weight over the course of the illness, he gave her what she asked for.

That night, they looked out the windows and up into the sky. The fire from the center of town burned brightly, filling their shared room with an orange glow. They counted the stars, or at least tried. Jackson did not know how to count very high. Jill was learning, though and she tried to teach him what she knew. The schoolhouse had not been built until Jackson was fifteen and he had only gone for a few years. But he was considered an adult and no longer was able to attend.

Jackson was strange. He always had been. He was supposed to be married now, but let the opportunity pass him by. He was less interested in having a family and more interested in entertaining children and playing pranks. He knew the villagers talked, but he didn't care. His own family, right here and now, were more important than anything. He was content and did not want to ruin that with a wife. He didn't even know if he could be a father. It was too much work. He did not want to be like his own father.

Not to menton their little village was still growing when he was small. There were perhaps five families at that time. Three of them had children in Jackson's generation. The only girl around his age was married to the boy and they were expecting their first child in April. In the last years, the population boomed, welcoming new settlers and more children were being born.

The next day, things were back to normal. Jackson and Jill started their morning chores, right and early. He walked with Jill to the well with an axe in hand to chop up some wood to heat the stove and cabin. While she drew water, he cut down a few thick branches and collected some logs from the community wood pile. There were other children closer to Jill's age than Jackson's that had also congregated. When they saw Jackson was finally well, they ran straight for him!

Jackson greeted them with his usual grin and silly quip. They pulled out crafts they had done and wood they had whittled to show him. They wanted to show him what new things they had accomplished and what new games they had come up with. Oh! He was excited for those! He promised after the chores that they could most certainly show him their tricks and they had to play those games for sure!

Jill took Jackson's hand, the heavy pale in her other. Jackson tied his tarp of wood and dragged it behind them as the siblings headed out of the well clearing and towards their home. Then… something cold hit the back of Jackson's neck. He laughed and turned to the kids.

"Hey! Who threw that?" he brushed snow from his coat and crouched down to make his own snowball. All of the children looked rather confused. Wait… had none of them threw it?

There was a boy near the path Jackson knew so well. It lead to the pond that he had almost drowned in. He looked about Jackson's age and had curious white hair. He seemed giddy and uncertain all at once. He adjusted his grip on a staff and tossed a snowball up before catching it, his gaze moving carefully over the children. It was as if he was choosing his next target.

So, Jackson did what anyone would. He threw the snowball at him. The children giggled and watched where Jackson threw the snow. Then, laughed for some strange reason.

"You missed, Jack!" Jill laughed.

Jackson frowned. Did she not just see that he had hit the dumbfounded stranger right in the face? "No, I didn't."

The boy timidly stepped forward before quickly stepping back. He shuffled on his bare toes before running into the forest. What? Why did he run? Jackson set off after him. He was just playing. That's what the boy was doing, right? He was trying to start a game. He wanted to be included in something, especially since it seemed like nobody had noticed him. Why didn't they notice him? How could you not see a boy with white hair like that?

Jackson chased the boy. He moved clumsily, yet lightly. As if gravity did not quite apply to him the same way it applied to Jackson. Though, he seemed to still be getting used to how to work this body. Jackson called for him to slow down. To wait. He just wanted to play, too. He wanted to apologize if that was not the boy's intent.

He finally caught up with him at the pond. Just as the boy was about to step onto the surface with bare feet, Jackson called to him in the most demanding voice he could muster. The boy stopped, just on the shores of the frozen waters. Jackson panted, winded from the chase. The boy shifted on the frozen mud and leaned against his staff. How was he not tired from all that running? It was quite a distance from the village.

"Sorry, okay?" Jackson breathed, clutching a stitch in his chest. "I thought you were trying to start a game."

"I… I was." Jackson looked up and met the boy's bright blue eyes. He seemed so confused, but so happy. Jackson returned his grin. "You can really… you can really see me." The boy let out a laugh of disbelief. "He sees me." He stepped forward. "You see me!"

Jackson furrowed his brows. "Of course I can." Jackson stepped closer to him and he stepped back. Jackson was able to see that they were the same height. And… that cloak looked way too familiar. Jackson looked down at the one he was wearing. They were the same. Jackson shrugged, though. He was certain that the style wasn't uncommon. "Why wouldn't I be able to see you?"

The boy's eyes fell downcast. He adjusted his grip on his staff and Jackson was close enough to see that there was frost coating the twisted wood. Wouldn't his hands melt the ice? They should. It wasn't all that cold today. "Nobody ever sees me." the boy admitted in a low voice. "I don't… I don't know why. I don't understand it…" He looked up. "But you can!"

He seemed genuinely heartbroken that he was invisible. Jack stepped closer and the boy stepped back again. "You just need to put yourself out there. Get people to notice you."

"I've tried."

"Clearly not hard enough," Jackson grinned. "Come on, let's go back to the village and I'll introduce you. When we all finish our chores, we can have some fun." And maybe get him some shoes. The boy was pale as death and everything around him was frozen. The ground, the staff he carried, even his cloak had frost coating it.

The boy nervously stepped back onto the ice when Jackson reached for his arm. Jackson crossed over, just toeing the edge of the ice. "H-Hey… come on. It's okay. Come on. Get off of the ice." What if the frozen pond was still not thick enough to hold him? He did not want the boy to fall through, just as he did. "Let's go home."

The boy furrowed his brows. "Home?"

Did he not have a home? Jackson reached to grab for him, but he was just out of reach. The boy turned his back to Jackson and walked towards the middle of the of the pond. "You know… where you live? Where you sleep?"

"Sleep?" The boy turned back to Jackson. "You mean what they do in the village? When they lay down in their beds and close their eyes when it's dark?"

Hold on just one moment. What the heck? "Do you… do you not sleep?"

The boy with the white hair shook his head and pressed his lips together. "No."

"You don't… you don't have a home?"

He thought for a moment. "A home is… a place you always go back to, right?" Jackson nodded. "Then… Then I guess this is my home." He opened his arms wide to gesture to the pond. "This is where I come back to. It's where I was born. It's… it's all I know."

Oh… oh. He was an orphan? Was he all alone in this world? Jackson carefully stepped onto the ice and stepped closer to him. What was he doing? He wasn't sure. All he knew was he needed to show the boy he didn't have to be alone. He wanted to be his friend. He wanted to be there even if no one else saw him.

It was strange, though. Jackson had lived in this village all of his life. He had never once seen this boy that looked so close to his age. There was himself, Eliza, and Jonathan. They were all born within five years of each other. He wished he would have known about this boy. He was sorry he had not seen him before.

Jackson smiled and held out his hand. "I'm Jack Overland."

The boy looked at Jackson's hand, then to his face. He hesitantly reached for Jackson's extended hand before snatching his own back. Did he know what to do with it? Jackson reached for his wrist and brought his hand to meet his own. Wowhis hand was cold. He was like ice.

The boy gasped. He grasped Jackson's hand in both of his after adjusting his staff to rest in the crook of his elbow and grinned brightly. He reached up and touched Jackson's shoulders and face. Well, this was strange. The boy pressed a hand on Jackson's chest and pushed him, laughing a bit. Jackson was unsteadied on the ice and stumbled but held his ground.

"So… what's your name?" Jackson asked. Man, this guy was weird.

Jackson had not been able to get a proper look at him. Now that the distance had closed, he felt a sort of… familiarity. There was something about this boy that looked way too familiar. The shape of his cheekbones and jaw. His thin and gangly body structure. The size of his forehead and the shape of his eyes. Why was it all so familiar looking? Where had Jackson seen him before?

But it was impossible. He had never seen anyone so young with white hair or with impossibly blue eyes that reminded Jackson of snowflakes. Why was his hair white? Perhaps he had been so terrified, it became that pure color. Jackson had heard of that happening. Or maybe… there was something else. This boy in front of him had something strange about him. He felt as if he were in the presence of… something otherworldly.

Maybe that was why the boy did not have a home and did not sleep. Maybe… maybe… no. Jackson would not determine who this boy was just yet. Maybe he had just been a child that had grown up on his own in this forest. He was just as normal as Jackson, he was sure. He just was under strange circumstances.

"I'm… I'm Jack Frost."