Every year for the last eight she had called him on this night, so Jack wasn't surprised at all when he heard the voice. Each year it had turned more taunting and dark. This year was the worst.

"Jack Frost, Jack Fost, help this little girl who's lost. Help her find her way back to the dark, help her soul find it's mark."

There was a moments of silence, then, "God dammit Jack! Show up already, I have something different from last year. I know you'll help me this time."


She felt a chill, and then his voice was in her ear. It might have been a sultry whisper if the humor wasn't there.

"Your poetry still sucks you know."

She turned her face towards his, close enough she felt his chilled breath on her nose, "Between you and me, I don't give a damn."

He floated above her, eying her for a few moments, taking in the changes. She was in almost all black, only this time her hat was red. Her hair was still black, strait and thin, only longer this year. Her skin was still too pale and gray, and her eyes had changed into a piercing black colour, different from the watery black eyes of the eleven-year-old he'd first met.

"You're wearing colour this year. Why the sudden change?" He finally teased.

"Shut up. Now, are you going to tell me where my father is?" She barked.

"You get mouthier each year." He commented, floating behind her.

She didn't turn, she knew he wouldn't leave until she decided the conversation was over, and this year, he had a surprise.

"This time, Jack, I have leverage. I finally got to meet Jamie. He's currently staying with me, you know. Still convinced I'm a decent girl." A snake-like grin appeared on her face, "How wrong do we know he is?"

She felt an icy grip on her thin shoulders, Jack's pale face inches from hers'.

"You hurt him and I'll-"

"Do what Jack? Freeze my heart? C'mon, we both know it never beat! I'm a walking dead! The child of Fear and Jealousy, nothing you can do will stop me... Unless, you tell me where he is."

There was a tense pause.

"We both know I can't do that. Just as we both know you won't do anything to Jamie. You're still a kid Tristen, don't hurt yourself."

"Ha! This coming from the perpetual child? Don't kid yourself Jack, I'm prepared to kill him to get my father out. I still have the skills of his nightmares, you know. Jamie will stay asleep for as I long as I want him to, and we both know his dreams will not be pleasant."

"You wouldn't."

She pulled a dark butterfly from her pocket, and held it in her palm. She stared at it for a moment, watching it turn in her fingers, over and over. She gave Jack a grin then blew it into his face.


Blood, guns, shouts. Pain, too much pain. Searing his leg. He bites his arm to stop from screaming, but a strangled cry still escapes his throat. He turns his head to find help, but all he sees are dead eyes staring back at him, the eyes of the other officers, staring into nothing, never seeing again.


Jack awoke gasping on the ground, staff laying beside him. He felt warm fingers caress his face, trailing down, and tilting his chin up to face the dark form above him.

"Poor baby, nine months in Iraq and the child you knew is gone. I have all of his fears, I can keep him in those dreams as long as I'd like. You were in one for five minutes and look how well you lasted. After a month I don't think he'll have much of a soul left."

Jack was still catching his breath as he sat up, refusing to let the fear show in his eyes.

"It's not working," Tristen sighed, drawing him into her, "I can feel how afraid you are. The fears of his are different now, more real. You can't help him anymore."

Her nails were digging into his back now, turning the comfort into a farce, "Unless, of course, you help me."