A/N: Hi y'all. This is my second Rise of the Guardians fic. It actually takes place before the other one I wrote, by two years. I hope you all enjoy it!
Jack Frost sat on a low stone wall, alone in the dark. He'd been Jack Frost for almost three hundred years, and not once during that time had someone been able to see him. He couldn't remember ever being touched. He was far past the point of crying about it, and normally he was content with his life, bringing snow and fun to the children. He loved the looks on their faces when they woke to snow covered houses and yards, and no school; when they pelted each other with snowballs until they were ready to drop. Yet, for some reason, tonight he couldn't lift his spirits with the thought of all that. Tonight, he just wanted to be seen, known, recognized. Was that really too much to ask?
While Jack was lost in his thoughts, a woman was walking down the darkened streets of the small town she and her family had settled in. Her husband and daughter were out camping, leaving her alone for an unaccustomed weekend of quiet. She was at a loss for what to do with herself. She was in her late twenties and slender, with long curly auburn hair, red eyes and scarred pale skin. Despite the hardships of her life, and there were many of those, she'd always held onto her belief in the wonders of childhood. True, she kept those beliefs hidden in the farthest corner of her heart, but they were there none the less. She believed in many things, from the Easter Bunny to Santa Claus. She was trying to teach her young daughter to hold onto the same beliefs. She smiled as she thought of her daughter, just six years old, with her father's heart and her mother's tendency to get into trouble. It was with these thoughts of her daughter in her mind that she saw the young man sitting on the stone wall surrounding the library. Her mothering instincts jumped into overdrive as she looked at him. His snow-white hair hung limply in his icy blue eyes. She could practically see the cloud of depression hanging over him. Without even thinking about it (as she often did), the woman rushed to his side and enveloped him in a hug.
The boy stiffened at her touch, but quickly relaxed. As she sat on the wall next to him, he pulled away to look at her in astonishment. She smiled benignly at him, eyes full of concern. "You can see me?" His voice was little more than a whisper.
"Of course." Her voice was just as soft, but was as strong and warm as a cup of hot chocolate in the middle of winter. "Should I not be able to?"
He shook his head. "No one can see me."
"I can. And what I see is a hurt young man, someone who needs a shoulder and a friend." And looking into his eyes she saw pain beyond what his apparent years could account for. Her heart broke a little to see someone so broken as the person in front of her. For his part, Jack saw someone who not only could see him, but was concerned about him. She hadn't been treated well by life, that much was clear even to him. There was an old and jagged scar across her cheek, her eyes were blood red, and her teeth were ever so slightly sharpened. Despite all this, she looked soft, comforting, warm. In a word, motherly. It was as if a floodgate opened somewhere deep inside him, and tears sprang to his eyes. He valiantly tried to hold them back, but this woman would have none of it.
She pulled him into another hug, running her hand over his hair comfortingly. For the first time in over two hundred years, he cried. The woman murmured comfortingly as she continued to run her hand over his hair and rubbed his back. She sensed an ache in him, one that she was somehow helping just by letting him cry on her shoulder. She was unconcerned by the growing wet spot on her shirt, despite the fact that the tears were like ice. She just held him, letting the boy cry himself out. The snow that had been falling all evening grew heavier as he sobbed, but as he calmed, so did the snowfall. After he'd stopped and pulled himself together, she handed him a tissue from her pocket. "Clean yourself up, Child. You'll feel better."
"Who are you?" He asked, wiping his face with the tissue. "My name's Krystal," She replied. "And I'm just someone out for a walk."
"How can you see me?" He was still stunned by that. "Can't everybody?"
"No. No one can see me. No one believes in me." He replied morosely. "Clearly one person does." She corrected gently. "Otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation." Her mind was working in overdrive, trying to figure out who he was. The snow's response to his emotions was the give away in the end. The only indication that she'd solved the puzzle was a slight widening of her eyes. She ran a hand through his hair again, pretending to ignore the way he unconsciously leaned into the comforting touch. "But my question is why is Jack Frost siting alone in this tiny town?"
His eyes were full of hope when he looked at her. "You know who I am?"
She chuckled. "When you were crying, the snow fell harder, but when you calmed, so did it. Besides, how many teens are there out there with naturally white hair? Or eyes that shade of ice?" She stood and tugged him to his feet. "But while you aren't affected by the cold, I am. So come with me. You need a good meal." Raid had always said She was going to get herself in trouble with my tendency to help anyone and everyone who needed it. She linked her arm through the winter spirit's and pulled him to her home with plans to take care of him until he felt better.
