Jack Frost could still remember the first time he decided to punish himself.

At first it had been little things. He'd refuse to eat for a couple of days, maybe even a week. He usually sat down outside of a window and watched a family eat dinner until the gnawing in his stomach made the silence roaring in his ears dull into white noise.

And then those days turned to weeks. It wasn't enough to be uncomfortable anymore. Even though he wouldn't die without food the hunger twisted his stomach into knots so painful he couldn't stand. Eventually his whole world became hunger, and he gladly succumbed to it, embraced it. It was something else to think about.

This worked for about the first forty or something years before it wasn't enough. He was finally reduced to skating frantically on his lake, back and forth in erratic circles. Eventually, he made a game out of it. Throwing his head back and laughing he challenged Wind to the other side until the clearing echoed with the sounds of his feet skidding across the ice. He went faster and faster until his knees buckled and he was suddenly flying. But this time Wind had no part in it.

Jack had thought he knew what pain was; the throbbing in his chest that would drive him to his knees every time someone passed through him. But now he was writhing on the floor, clawing at his head. Eyes darting wildly he searched for something, anything to alleviate mind-numbing agony that gripped him. But he couldn't see anything anymore and all he could hear was ringing in his ears and wasn't there anyone, anyone that could help?

Dimly, he realized Wind was there and blowing around him in a frenzy. He relaxed as he felt a breeze ruffle through his hair and stroke his cheek. Jack had no idea how long he laid there before he finally passed out.

When he awoke, he was treated to his first headache since he'd been born. But it wasn't crippling anymore, but he found himself too distracted to think.

Jack didn't think that was so bad: not thinking.

So he had something new now. Wind didn't like it one bit, and would always pull him away when it had the chance. But every once in a while, when he was tired of calling out to the Man in the Moon, he'd distract Wind into a game of chase and run straight into a tree.

After all, Jack Frost had done something wrong. Very wrong, to have deserved this. After watching a child getting caned by his father, Jack began to realize that maybe he was the problem. Surely, he reasoned, he had done something terrible. After all, he wasn't blind. Jack could read the dread in people's eyes as winter approached. The fear. The only ones who welcomed him with open arms were children. But even they eventually trembled so badly they ran back inside. So he deserved this, he pleaded with Wind. But most of all, he needed it.

Over time he became more creative. He forged thorny vines out of ice and wrapped himself into a cocoon until his whole torso was littered with holes. He told Wind it was a game: How long can Jack Frost stay awake? Gradually Wind resigned to catching him when he fell and waiting patiently for him to wake up.

He always made sure to peel off his sweater so it wouldn't get stained. Even though his exposed wounds always hurt more that way, Jack welcomed it. The longer the distraction, the better.

Eventually, he would heal. Then he would run back to the children in Burgess and play one of his favorite games of all: pretending they could see him. He would call them by name; leave piles of snowballs next to their favorite playing spots. And he always kept his lake ready for anyone who wanted to skate. Jack Frost would have his fun, even if he knew it wouldn't last. But he didn't have to worry about the dull throbbing in chest growing. Not anymore.

At least, he didn't used to. But Jack had never anticipated that one day he'd be believed in. He had never imagined a day where he technically wouldn't need his punishments anymore. But there was one factor he really couldn't have prepared himself for:

The Guardians.

Jack Frost was no longer alone. And that was a problem.

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