Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot of this fan fiction.
The first thing to fall off was his left hand.
He hadn't noticed it until his wrist began to itch before beginning to burn. At first he was shocked that he hadn't noticed but then he began to panic. He eventually found it after a few days, inside the crook of the tree he'd been sleeping inside for the duration of his newly discovered hibernation cycle.
He tried everything to reattach it, but nothing he knew of would keep it on. Not even tree tar could keep it on and that stuff was sticky.
He cradled his disconnected hand to himself as he went about the different towns to spread winter. Sitting near a portside town, he watched the local fisherman pull in their hauls for the day. Jack noticed that one of the fishermen had a large cut down the side of his leg, possibly from falling on one of the knives they carried on board to cut away snagged nets. Jack floated down as the man he could only assume was the local doctor arrived and knelt beside the injured man. The 'doctor' pulled out a length of thread and a needle and began to stitch up the man's leg, watching as the skin was pulled together and eventually tied together, looking sturdy as the man flinched in pain.
When the doctor returned to his home, Jack followed him and watched the doctor treat his patients. The pregnant lady. The man with a graphic sword wound. The children with the skinned knees.
Jack paid attention to everything the doctor did that required needle and thread.
When the doctor finished up for the day and finally went to sleep, Jack lingered, taking needles, thread and a small pair of scissors. He flew back to his lake and sat on the shore, his missing hand being nestled in his lap as he attempted to thread the needle that he was holding in between his teeth. He managed to thread the needle and knotted it. He lifted the needle to his wrist and whimpered as he pushed the needle through the skin of his wrist and into the skin of the missing limb, tugging the two edges together.
It took him an hour and three tries to get his hand connected to his body. This first time he tried it , he accidently put his hand on backwards, the second time it was facing sideways. The stitches were messy and spaced too far apart from lack of experience, but for the time being it would have to do. There was a lingering pain from the initial threading lingered for about one hour afterwards, but for the most part everything seemed fine.
Jack tested the strength of his stitches, finding them to be adequate for his current needs. He was quickly gaining feeling back into his once missing limb.
Once he gained all of the feeling in his hand he stood grasping the needle and thread in his hand. He knew he wouldn't be able to constantly fly around with his hands full. Flying back to the doctors house, he pushed open the window to the upstairs bedroom and stepped into the room. Casting his gaze around he spotted a small pouch that he had seen the doctor with when he'd left to gather herbs. The small pouch was one of many that he had seen the doctor with. Quickly he lifted the pouch, emptying the contents onto the nearest countertop. Tying the pouch around his neck he placed as much needle and thread as he could into the pouch and left the doctors house.
The next thing to fall off was the lower part of his right leg.
He had just landed on the soggy bank of a river in Canada when his leg became snagged in the cleverly disguised root of an old worn pine tree. As he fell, he twisted and pulled at his leg, only to receive waves of pain in his lower leg as a result. Once the most of the pain had passed he dragged himself to the root and pulled his leg from the root. Placing it down in the now frost covered ground he began to sew it back on, wincing at the sting of the needle threading in and out of his skin.
In and out. In and out.
Tugging the thread tight, he grimaced as the thread tugged the two skin pieces together. Tying off the thread and putting the thread away, he slowly stood up, wincing at the throbbing at the new join between his knee and lower leg. Shuddering, he pulled himself together, metaphorically and physically, and began to walk, limping slightly as he went.
Over the following decades and centuries of his solitude and anguish , at each part of his body had fallen off in his travel. On more than one occasion he was forced to back track miles and even whole continents in order to find his missing limbs. He went through thousands of reels of thread, piles of metal needles (some of which he learned he was allergic to ) and had to upgrade his carrying pouch to a messenger bag. On many occasions he found himself fending off feral animals, most of which had smelt the decaying flesh and were drawn to it. His limbs carried bite marks and missing flesh from where the animals had been successful in their starving mindset.
But above all his near misses, the thing that startled him the most….
Was the day he was decapitated.
He had since learned after his complete right arm was torn off (in a incident involving moving too fast in the wind and slamming his arm into a tree, tearing it from his body) that whilst his body was deteriorating, he still had the ability to feel and move his detached limbs. This made it easier to find his parts when he suddenly decided that a blizzard was in order.
He had been walking around the Forrest near the ever growing town of Burgess, close to his lake in the middle of a blizzard, when he spotted a moving object coming towards him at great speed. Tilting his head in confusion, he stopped at the edge of his lake. He heard the creature yell as the being came closer and closer. He saw the being throw something and before he knew it…
His head hit the ground.
Then his headless body hit the ground.
His mind froze and he stared wide eyed at the being, which was now looking down at him in fright.
Vaguely his mind picked up that the being was speaking to him. It seemed sad and frightened and very sorry that it had "killed him".
The being left them, dropping down into a tunnel that appeared beside him, leaving behind only a quickly wilting flower in their wake.
As he lay there, waiting for something to happen, he pondered why he hadn't said anything. Then it occurred to him. He hadn't spoken a word or eaten anything since his birth on the lake. There was no point having a mouth if there was no one to talk to or not having the necessity to eat anything. Frost had already hardened the flesh of his lips together. Some thread wouldn't do any harm to keeping it that way. He had seen what words from the mouths of the living and never wanted anything like that to come from his own mouth
He called to his body and to his relief; it began to pull itself towards him. He had the body lift his head up and pull out the thread and needle. This seemed really surreal. He watched as his hands began to thread the needle with more precision and grace than he knew his body had. When the needle was finally threaded, he had his hands bring it up to his lips.
The needle pushed through the upper lip and through the bottom one in a fluidic like movement. He felt no pain as his body sewed his mouth together forever.
When his body finished its assigned job he had it pick his head up and move towards the lake. Placing the head down on the Ice, Jack disjointedly manipulated the ice to shoot upwards and form a reflective surface at the level where his head should have been. His head was lifted and placed on the stunted neck piece, as the hands began to move once again.
Sewing the two pieces of flesh together. Even at the back of the neck. Much to his amusement. Waving away his mirror he stood, grasping his staff. He tilted his head side to side, testing the stability and strength of his stitches.
He began walking towards the town not looking for anything specific, not even worried or upset when people walked through him. That was when the wind decided he needed some new clothes. The North Wind blew towards him, bringing with it new undergarments, a new white long-sleeve shirt, a pair of brown pants that were barely long enough and a long brown cloak with a hood. Smiling and thanking the wind he wandered away from the village back to where his lake stood the bundle of clothing in his hands.
When he was close to his lake, he heard voices. One Russian, the other he wasn't sure of. Judging by the loud argument they were having, Jack decided to hide until they were gone. He found a crook in the base of a tree and went inside. He quickly stripped, not looking at his body, or its imperfections as he did so. The new clothes fit snug on his body and the cloak hid everything from sight. He settled back as the voices came close by.
"I'm telling you North! I killed Jack Frost! Completely beheaded him!" The Being seemed to say.
"Ah but my friend, Where is body? Has he faded? Frost had no believers so it is possible. Come if you want we will hold a memorial service for him." The Russian, "North" replied.
"Na mate. The sprite's body was still breathing when I left him. We gotta help him. His body is still here somewhere. I know it." The being sniffed at the air and turned around, looking directly at the tree where Jack was hidden. The beings gaze moved swiftly over the trees.
The two creatures left eventually. By then Jack had fallen asleep in the crook of the tree.
Snow fell gently around his little home. The wind blew gently, curling around the base of the tree.
Authors Note: Hello~ and welcome to Decay. It's the result of not enough sleep so I hope you enjoy it. The second chapter will be uploaded when I can see that there is some resemblance of interest in the story.
So Please Review and Tell me what you think~!