Another story! So soon! What?
Noh-a (Junoa) x Jack, because it's too hot not to and the ending! Ah! So many shipping feels! There should be more love for this pairing.
Disclaimer: Jack Frost: the Amityville belongs to JinHo Ko and needs more love. Seriously.
If anyone actually ever reads this then, I hope I don't butcher the story too much and this hasn't been edited. So, if you find any glaring mistakes or the writing changes or something feel very free to tell me. Enjoy!
Jack watched as she slipped and fell, the icy terrain causing her short legs to slide from underneath her in her frantic hurry to reach her father's body. Although it was all part of their plan, although this was for the ultimate 'good' of his world, a foreign feeling of guilt stirred in the deepest pit of his stomach. Maybe it was her melancholy cries? In battle his enemy never seemed so defeated. Helpless, sure; defenceless, often; hopeless, always. The feeling swirled in his gut, forcing him to look away. This was only the beginning.
From his position atop the building opposite her school he studied the young girl sitting at her desk. In the distance he could hear the cacophony of sirens wailing as they came across the 'accident'. He had been 'merciful' this time. As merciful as a deranged, homicidal maniac whose sole purpose was to make sure she felt so much devastating pain that she was returned to their world, could be.
This time her parent wouldn't die before her eyes. A small compensation, but that was really all he was allowed to make. The devastation would still be severe. More innocents would be dragged into the fray though.
What seemed like hours later, in all probability it was probably a single hour that passed, a stone faced man walked into the classroom and tore her from her classmates. A short trip into the principal's office later and she returned. In that short time she had changed. No longer the innocent child he watched walk that lonely road, she gathered her books with a new darkness, a new maturity and somehow, it made him feel… sad.
That night he watched as she clutched the small, snowy doll and cried out all her grief. She held onto the old, matted doll with a death grip, like it was her last lifeline. He could hear her sobs, the whisper of his own name and like the heartless mercenary he left, never going too far.
The black cat curled itself around his legs, purring. It confused him greatly. How could this creature, this creature he knew could smell the blood that covered his soul, brush against him in bliss? How could this, fairly innocent, creature trust him? Did the alley cat not realise that his presence meant its own demise would be following swiftly?
Jack ran a hand through his chaotic black hair, ruffling the incessantly messy hair in thought. Only in this world would he ever think like this. Only in this world would he ever feel. Was this the power of this world? Or was this some after effect of the devil thread?
"Who cares?" He groaned, thankful that Helmina was back in Amityville. No doubt her sharp, analytical mind would have noticed the changes within him immediately. He would have never heard the end of it.
A piercing cry echoed into the night as the black cat fell to its death from the fifth story of the uptown apartment block. A quick glance over the edge and Jack's suspicions were confirmed, the cat had indeed landed right outside her doorway. He winced and sighed simultaneously, stepping away from the edge and back into the darkness. It wouldn't be too much longer.
It had been a few years since he had last caught a glimpse of her but one look showed him everything he had missed. Once again she had opened her heart, just to have the things she cherished ripped from her. A terrible fate, he supposed, which could even rival that of his own.
She walked along the edge of the canal, talking quietly with her friend. The two girls began walking towards him, so deeply invested in their conversation that his very presence was ignored. They quickly passed his hiding place, discussing some form of anniversary in hushed whispers. He silently watched and waited as they finally bid each other farewell with a hug and went their separate ways.
Slipping through shadows he followed the unfamiliar teenage girl as she walked leisurely on her way home, a sad frown adorning her pretty features. It seemed she was in no particular hurry and for that Jack was glad. Maybe the tailor's timing was wrong? Maybe he wasn't needed here at all?
Jack shook his head, trying to dislodge the creepy thoughts. Since when was he dreading bloodshed? It was his livelihood. He, the very incarnation of death, should not be having such sacrilegious thoughts. When he walked away today his mission would be complete, the girl will be dead and Noh-a will, once again, be crushed. It was the way things had to be, the order they had to flow.
Would it be wrong of him to admit that when he severed her head from her neck the slightest bit of remorse flowed through? He liked the taste of death, knew she was immortal and yet, seeing her broken caused something to twist painfully in his gut. It was something he had never felt in Amityville and it scared him. The mighty Jack Frost, keeper of the devils thread and strongest of the students of Amityville, was humbled by a little girl. If he wasn't currently fighting, and had lost quite a bit more of his pride, he may have face palmed. Just what had he gotten himself into?
Would it be ok for him to acknowledge that the look of awe on her face was the reason he enjoyed the fight? Watching her expression change from panic to something more relaxed as soon as he stepped into the room, like she trusted him to protect her when others –namely Hansen and Jin- had failed. Watching as her eyes traced his every move, the way she shivered when a cocky smirk crossed his face, the way she smiled when he had finished off their enemies. It made him stronger, her trust, and her faith. It was different, having something to fight for. The thrill was there but there was another thrill, the changing of her expressions and the lingering of her eyes.
He wasn't panicking. He was sure of it. Just because Hansen's words, the screamed proclamation that she had left, were ringing in his ears like some sort of broken record meant nothing. Just like his accelerated heartrate meant nothing. He was just pumped from the fight, excited for the next one. It had nothing to do with her or the fact that he had failed. Was he losing his touch?
Regardless, he would get her back. Anything that got in his way would die. Last time one of the districts took the mirror image, West if he was remembering correctly, he'd had a bit of fun. It had been slightly insulting for the mutts to make it into the North, but that was alright. At least he got a fight, right? And their accelerated healing had been an interesting curve ball. He liked something that could get back up after one of his attacks. This time? This time, it was personal. All would die.
Huh, fighting the mirror image wasn't really something he had been planning on. Unlike everyone else, Noh-a was the only person he'd never had the slightest inclination to fight. Not because he thought she was weak. Far from that, the power pulsing off her at the moment was incredible. If it was anyone else he would be salivating at the prospect. But it was her. And she was fighting him.
"Did you kill my dad?"
It was slightly insulting that she didn't trust him. Not that he was innocent of what she accused. Indeed, it was his attack that had torn the life from her father. It just wasn't what she thought. How had everything changed in such a short amount of time?
"Jack, will you… hold my hand?"
He could see the amusement in the tailor's eyes just as clearly as he could feel Hansen's confusion, Lucy's acceptance or the sly smirk on Jin's face. Oh lord, this girl was going to be the death of his reputation, wasn't she? Without real thought, he moved forward wrapping her small hand in his own and squeezing it. If she needed the comfort then he would be willing to give it to her.
As the tailor's magic separated her consciousness from her body he felt her slacken. Catching her was easy, the cloak automatically curling around her, pulling her tightly into the safe embrace of his body. What felt like only moments later and he was in front of her, habitually blocking the attack aimed at Helmina.
Who would have thought he would get in on this action? It was abundantly clear to Jack that the full magnitude of Solomon's powers failed to reach this far. And, unlike everyone else, he had absolutely no problem in telling him. What was more annoying however, was the devils thread. Here, in this space between realities, his cloak was infinitely more powerful; which put a real dampener on his high spirits. There was simply no fun in fighting such an environment; it was like fighting Hansen back in the North. He'd have to fight Solomon back in Amityville when Noh-a was ready to go back.
A quick glace behind him confirmed his suspicions. Helmina and Noh-a's exchange was almost complete. It would only be a matter of moments before Helmina's reign as the 'Witch of the North District' was over and she would be no more. It was a sobering thought, even for one such as himself.
Had she always been so self-assured? Had Helmina's powers given her some newly exposed confidence or was he just now noticing the way she stood, talked, fought? Was it unnatural that he found the image of her fighting for him sexy? Although, taking into account his love of bloodshed and the way she looked; probably not.
Jack licked his lips, the hand around her waist tightening just slightly. The last battle had taken a lot from them all and he could clearly see the signs of her exhaustion. The war was over. It was officially finished and she was leaving. He could feel it in his bones. In the way she trembled ever so slightly in his hold.
He was slightly glad when she bought it up first. Honestly, he wasn't expecting her to say anything, let alone be upset at the prospect of leaving.
"See you soon, Noh-a Joo."
It was weird, he decided, seeing her back in the school uniform she'd arrived in. Like, they had stepped back into the past and everything they'd worked for was for naught. But as she looked up and met his eyes, or more likely, she'd once again gotten caught on his smirk, the bomb was detonated; figuratively, that is, this time. Ah, if looks could kill he'd probably be in a whole heap of serious trouble right now. Lucky she loves me.
Anyone who reads this is automatically loved!
Please send me a review, I adore hearing thoughts, constructive criticism or just Jack Frost love!
:D