AN: Thank you so freaking much for the reviews! This my first story and I appreciate the feedback. Please, I love critiques and my ultimate goal is to make my writing better so if there is anything wrong with the story, plot or otherwise, please tell me.

Everytime I get a review, I am so grateful. Tell me if you think the story is going too slowly or not.

Are there any jokes you know? I need one for the next chapter.

Welp here ya go!

Wallace West used to love to run. As a child, that was all he could be seen doing. Running to school, running to his parents, running home, running, running, running.

Wallace West used to love running.

Used to.

Now, he hated it.

It always seemed like such a natural thing, running towards things. Towards the finish line, into his mother's loving arms, to school, and back home. Now, West found himself missing such a luxury. As he ran away from Nicholas' workshop, he couldn't help but think about how much it hurt running away. How different it was running from than running to.

Tears streamed down his face, quickly being whisked away by the rushing wind as he ran. Quickly reaching the abandoned apartment complex, he collapsed on the cold, hard floor and crouched into a ball, gasping for breath., whether from the sudden use of his speed, or from the sobs escaping his throat, he couldn't tell.

He was frustrated with himself. He wasn't exactly sure why he was crying. He angrily wiped his tears away only for them to be replaced by more. He wondered if he was crying because he left the warm house, or because he was reminded of his old home, before everything went to hell. Either way, he resolved, he had to get a grip.

Taking deep breaths, he closed his eyes and willed the pain away. I could pretend it was just a dream, he thought, just a stupid, teasing, unrealistic dream. His green eyes opened slowly with a fragile calm and he forced himself to focus on other things.

That was when he realized: Where was Jack?

The thought made him pause, and in growing worry he looked around, as if expecting for him to be hiding somewhere. He stood up and peeked out the door. All he saw was white, and the storm was growing by the second.

How did I even run in this? he thought. He recalled leaving the house after seeing the clock and realizing it was already 7:30, assuming that Jack was waiting for him at the hideout. It has to be at least 8 o'clock by now.

He had a sudden spike of panic. What if Jack was hurt? What if he was in an accident? Or hit by a car? Or got caught by the cops! West's eyebrows scrunched together in concern. Maybe he should go looking for him, what if he really was in trouble?

He focused on the snow again, raging white against a backdrop of black. He quickly reconsidered searching for Jack, he wouldn't be able to see anything in this. He stepped outside and leaned against the doorway, finding some comfort in the cold. Jack always drew strength from the cold.

He'll be alright, West thought. He said he would be right back, he was just going to get food. He'll come back, I just need to be patient. But there was always that little voice in the back of his mind that told him that maybe, just maybe, Jack won't come back. That maybe he finally got tired of him.

Wally tried to shake the thought away.

He'll come back, he always does. He sank down to sit in the snow, clutching the leftover cake in his pocket.

I'll wait until he does.

JACKANDWALLYJACKANDWALLYJACKANDWALLYJACKANDWALLYJACKANDWALLYJACKANDWALLYJACKANDWALLY

JACK POV

Shit.

That's the first thing I thought when I came to my senses: Shit, shit shit.

I can't believe I just did that. I freaking iced Aster of all people. I haven't lost control once since I've been here, what the hell happened?

I rake my fingers through my hair, my hands are shaking, though I can't feel cold. I can feel my heavy legs slowing to a drag while I try to find the little bit of energy to move.

Maybe he won't say anything. Maybe he'll just think it was a fluke or an illusion or-.

I stop in my tracks and my eyes widen. There's no way he wouldn't tell someone.

I'm so screwed.

"AAAAAHHHHHHH!" I scream out in frustration, my voice getting lost in the howling wind. The snow is quickly piling up, building as my panic increases. I need to calm down.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath but it doesn't seem to be working. Worries about the complications that would arise after my stupid little stunt cause an endless flow of thoughts to flood my mind. Each one worse than the last. The snow is up to my shins. The town will be buried at this rate! I need to calm down.

I grit my teeth and force myself to slow my breathing and to empty my mind. The snow lowers in intensity. The wind blows around me blows in encouragement. In, I taking a deep, shuddering breath, out, I force it through my teeth. I repeat the process a couple more times before I open my eyes and collapse in the snow.

I can't keep doing this, I think. Ever since I woke up 9 months ago with no memory about who I was or how I got here, I've been struggling with this power. The only thing I recalled, as well as the first thing I thought when I woke up, was that I was Jack Frost, and that I wasn't supposed to be here. I was a living anachronism, stuck in a time that wasn't mine. My hand clutches my chest, a hollow loneliness reminds me of how much I don't belong.

Wiping the the tears that invaded my cheeks I stand up on wobbling legs and stare up at the snow. I smile a little. No matter how much my life sucks, no matter how confusing it gets, the snow will always be there when winter comes.

Shaking my head I head back to the hideout where West is waiting. It's dark out, really dark. A steady flow of snow is still falling but it has calmed down considerably. My snacks are, amazingly, still in hand.

I hope West is okay, I've been gone much longer than I intended. I pick up the pace. My mind drifts back to my encounter with Aster. Now that I've calmed down, I can think over the situation more calmly. Focus on the facts. Okay, so I iced the kangaroo. I ran away. Those are the facts. Now what can I do about it?

At best, he would just forget about it, and we can go on living our lives in mock ignorance. I scoff at myself. Yeah, right, like that'll happen. It's more of a wish than an actual possibility.

At worst, he'd tell the authorities. The government and maybe even the Justice League will get involved. I could be detained as a suspected dangerous meta-human, and anyone I'm close to would be interrogated and intensely monitored for the rest of their lives.

I kick the snow in frustration. This is only one of the worst case scenarios my mind conjured up, but it's much more likely than the best case scenario. I can't do that to West, I just can't. But I can't bear to leave my little brother either.

But if it's to keep him safe… what other options do I have?

The thought of parting with the kid I've only known for 5 months makes me feel sick. There must be another way. There must! But the apartment complex comes into view, and I can still find no alternative.

The snow has slowed to a sad trickle. I could see a figure in front of the abandoned building. With a sinking feeling, I run to meet the freezing boy who is sitting against the doorway. His eyes are closed and his breath is uneven and cloudy.

"West!" I shake him in panic. He stirs but doesn't wake. I shake him harder. "West! Damn it, West! What are you doing outside in this weather?!" He still doesn't wake.

I curse and drag him inside. "West! Wake up!" Nothing. "West, I have food! You're hungry aren't you?" His hands twitch, but he doesn't wake up. I breath a slight sigh of relief. At least he's responsive.

I take a bag of chips out and hold it up to his nose. It's worked before, like magic, when he was knocked out after he tripped down the stairs of another abandoned building we were holed up in. On a whim, I put some food up to his face, having seen it in a cartoon once, and he woke up, asking what was cooking. I hope it works now.

"Come on, come on. Wake up!" Slowly but surely, he wakes up. His eyes slowly open, much slower than the time when he fell down the stairs.

"Where's the food?" he asks. I almost cry in relief. Then I lightly smack him upside the head.

"What were you thinking, sleeping outside?!" His eyes slowly moved to mine.

"I was waiting for you," he got something out of his pocket, "I got you some cake. Souvenir." And despite the situation, I couldn't help but snort out laughter.

"Where the heck did you get cake?" He smiles mischievously, but there's something in his eyes that makes me worry. Some kind of deep, lingering sadness.. But it's gone before I could be sure I saw it

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." I can't help but realize the irony of his claim.

"Try me."

He sits up and delves into his story.