Hi, everyone! Thanks for checking out my story :D This is the first thing I've written for the alternate universe that Jack and Rapunzel exist in together, and although I have a plan that I'm putting in motion, I have some details I have not worked out yet. I just find the fandom that surrounds this pair really interesting and so I'm exploring that. Thanks and I hope you enjoy! Also, if you read it, whether you liked it or not, could you please leave a review please? Thanks!

And without further ado,

Poor Wandering One

by Catherine "Cadey" Lily

Rapunzel was fourteen, and there was a boy sitting on the railing.

The day had started like any other. Like every other, though Rapunzel didn't mind. There, after all, was plenty to do in her tower. There was a whole stack of books her mother had just brought her, and a new color of paint, made from a special type of leaf found far way. There was a new recipe for cupcakes she'd been planning on trying out when she woke up early that morning and skipped out of her bedroom –

- and nearly crashed into the intruder.

She gasped, halting. She nearly dropped her cookbook. Her hair, still in motion, spilled around her feet. It felt like what she thought the waves on a beach must feel like. Pascal, her friend of two weeks, croaked and nearly fell off her shoulder. Later, she would realize that she must have looked as strange to him as he did to her.

But for now, all she could do was gape. A teenage boy, maybe a little older than her, was casually perched on the banister, as if it was his home and not hers. He, for some reason, appeared to be amused, blue eyes twinkling like he was enjoying a very funny joke. His strange white hair looked ruffled, windblown. His clothes were simple, clean, and his overall attire might have been satisfactory if he wasn't completely barefoot (she had to remind herself that this applied to her as well, but she at least was in her own home). He held a long stick in his hand, like a cane. He was so unknown to her, for she'd never seen a real human boy before, and yet, for some reason, he was so familiar…

"Is she… could she be looking at me?" He seemed to be puzzled now, almost wary, and his words, although quiet, brought her back to reality. Get it together, she scolded herself silently. There could, after all, only be reason why he was here.

Heart beating wildly, she raised the cookbook she held in her hand high in the air as if she might strike him, though she was trembling. Or maybe it was just the cold that was making her shiver; she hadn't realized it was so cold. Breathing deeply, she said as loudly as she could, "I – you can't have my hair! S-stay away from me or I'll have to resort to violence!"

Now it was his turn to be shocked. "You… can you see me?"

Another steadying breath. "What… what kind of question is that?"

At this moment, Gothel chose to appear downstairs. "Rapunzel!" she called up to her. "Why on earth are you making such a racket? Do you know what time it is? Who are you even talking to?" She squinted up at Rapunzel, clearly annoyed. Gothel had just gotten back from a long journey late yesterday, and had made Rapunzel promise not to wake her up before noon.

Rapunzel stared at Gothel. Her mother was staring right at the boy."But…" How could she not see him? Rapunzel opened her mouth again, and ultimately closed it, glancing nervously at the stranger. "Um… no one. I'm… rehearsing. For the play I'm writing." She'd never lied to her mother before.

"Well, please keep your rehearsal to a minimum volume level, Rapunzel. Some of us are trying to sleep." Gothel muttered something under her breath, then disappeared again into her bedroom. Rapunzel shivered.

"Writing a play, are you?" The boy asked her. He seemed to be laughing at her.

Again, she raised her book. "You have thirty seconds to tell me who you are."

He raised his eyebrows. "Isn't it obvious?" When she didn't respond, he rolled his eyes. "Fine, I guess I'll spell it out for you." He stood up, and stepped off the banister. In to the air. He was walking in air. Rapunzel dropped her book, stunned.

He glided down to the window, and Rapunzel watched in amazed silence as he wrote his name in an icy script on the glass. The frost seemed to be connected to him, it followed his every movement. Forgetting her fear, Rapunzel raced down the stairs.

"This answer your question?" he asked, gesturing to his frosted name.

"You're – you're him!" she whispered excitedly, half-ignoring him. "Jack Frost!" She'd read about him, of course. He was the spirit of Winter, of snow, of ice and of cold. He was a great friend to children and a nuisance to adults. He'd created something called "snow days". She wasn't exactly sure what a snow day was, but it was apparently something that was terribly important. He was a legend.

"The one and only," he said, with a sarcastic sort of bow. "And you are…?"

She blushed – no one had ever asked her name before! "Rapunzel," she said, grinning. An indignant squawk from her shoulder reminded her of a certain green lizard. "Oh, and this is Pascal."

Jack nodded. "Interesting name."

"Well... yeah," she said, suddenly feeling awkward. She didn't really know how to interact with people at all, much less a boy, much less a most likely immortal spirit of an entire season. She'd never spoken with someone who wasn't her mother.

"So..." Jack trailed off, although he seemed more thoughtful than at a loss for words, like her. "Your hair..." Rising off the floor, he circled her. She spun, trying to keep up with him. "It's long."

"Yeah," she said, remembering her initial fear of him, and of his possible motives for being in her tower. True, it was unlikely that a most likely immortal spirit would want her hair... but you never know. She almost chose to not say anything more about it, but its not like he was a real real person, right?

"Um, it's been growing since I was a baby," she explained. "And it's magic?"

"Magic?" His eyebrows arched. "What does it do?"

She hesitated. Rapunzel, remember the only reason people will speak to you is they want your hair. Stay away. Her mother's warning echoed in her head. And then she took a deep breath.

"It can heal people," she explained, watching his reaction. "And it keeps you from aging."

"Really?" said Jack , amazed, smiling. She liked his smile. "That's incredible! How?"

"Well, I sing," she said, somewhat embarrassed.

"Can you show me?" he asked, excited.

"Maybe later," she said, enjoying the thrill of words like later, which implied that there would in fact be a later. "My mom's asleep right now and I promised not to wake her up."

"Fine," said Jack dramatically. "I guess I can wait." She giggled, though she wasn't sure why.

"So," she said, sitting down on the window seat, her gaze drifting to the name on her window. It was her turn to have a question for him, but she didn't exactly know how to phrase it. "Why - uh, well, I don't -"

"Cat got your tongue?" he asked.

She blinked. "What?"

He opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it. "Never mind."

"I'm just - confused," she admitted. "When my mother woke up, she couldn't see you. And before that, you were almost... shocked that I could see you. Why?"

His everlasting smile faded. Floating down, he sat down next to her on the window seat. "It's a long story."

"I've got time," she said gently. Inside, her heart was hammering inside of her. She still couldn't believe it; here was a person, a boy, who wasn't her mother, sitting just a few inches away from her and having a conversation with her. It was surreal.

"Well, it starts when I died -"

"You're dead?" she exclaimed. A loud snore came from her mother's bedroom, and she glanced quickly at the bedroom door. Thankfully, she didn't hear any footsteps.

"You're dead?" she asked again, quieter.

"No - well, uh - let me finish." He seemed uncertain. "It felt like I died, but I don't know if I was ever alive, so... anyway the moon told me my name was Jack Frost, and -"

"But how -"

"Would you let me finish the story?" he said, sounding annoyed.

She flushed. "Sorry. I just -"

He sighed. "No, I'm sorry." He was quiet for a moment. "I don't know why the moon spoke to me, or how that's possible, it just is." Another quiet moment as he was lost in thought.

"I've been like this ever since," he continued. "And at first, I thought it was cool -"

"Pun intended?" quipped Rapunzel.

He seemed confused for a moment, and then he laughed. "Yeah, sure." He grinned at her, and she smiled shyly back. "Anyway, I quickly - well, for some reason, no one can see me. I think its because no one... no one believes in me." He studied his hands. He almost seemed ashamed.

Her eyebrows furrowed. Why wouldn't anyone believe in him? He was real. He was right there, with her, as plain as the eye could see. He was documented in books. There were songs and poems about him. He obviously existed. There was evidence. Why would people stop believing in him? If her mother didn't believe she existed, would Rapunzel exist in the same state Jack seemed to, hidden from the world?

"I believe in you," said Rapunzel, trying to reassure him.

"Well, you'd be the first," he said, smiling to himself. Then he locked eyes with her, something that both excited her and made her uncomfortable. "Thank you."

She smiled, biting her lip. "Uh," she said. Clearing her throat and mind, she added "I guess I should thank you. I mean, I've never really had any friends - oh, except for you, Pascal. And this winter has been so lovely."

Jack nodded. "Yeah." He didn't seem to be paying attention. Then he suddenly came to. "Shoot!" He shot off of the window seat. "I've got to go!" He rose higher, flying out the window without another word.

Panic rose in her throat. "Wait!" she cried, forgetting to be quiet. She scrambled to the window. "Where are you going?"

"It's winter, remember?" Jack gestured to the snow that covered the landscape around her tower. "I've got stuff to do; there's a blizzard due in the Highlands, I'm planning a snowball fight in France, a few fake yeti footprints here and there -"

"Will you be back?" she asked.

"Hey, it's not like I've got anyone else to talk to," he said, smirking. It changed into something softer she couldn't name. "See you later." And with that, he flew off into the sky.