Hey, readers! Next chapter for you. Please leave me a review! Thanks :)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Rise of the Guardians'
The Black Streak
Shattered sunlight crept into the room from the crevices in the blinds, illuminating the small areas it could reach. One area in particular that it could reach was Marie's eyes. The sudden light that pierced through the thin veil of skin over her eyes elicited a moan from her as she rolled over and threw an arm over her face. She took a deep breath that transformed into a wide yawn as she pushed her limbs in opposite directions, her back lifting from the mattress. Her eyes blinked open to a bleary view of the world. With another yawn, the sleepy woman rubbed the backs of her hands against her eyes, removing the traces of sleep that lingered stickily in the corners.
The young woman sat up and attempted to run her fingers through her tangled mane. The slender appendages were snagged before they even started their journey and Marie let out a huff and she piled her hair on top of her head, snatched an elastic band and wrapped it around the mass of curls.
"It would seem a shower's in order this morning," she sighed as she pushed the warm comforter from her legs and swung out of her bed.
Goosebumps flowered up her arms as her bare feet made contact with the cool floor and a shiver ran through her body. "Didn't have to go quite so far, Jack," she mumbled as she spread the blinds open and peered through the frost dense window.
With a light laugh she turned from the window and gave her sleeping roommate one fleeting look before she grabbed a towel, change of clothes and soap, walked out the door and down the hall to the communal bathroom. Marie pushed the door open with her elbow and a plume of dense, warm, sticky fog fell out and wrapped around her. Wrinkling her nose, she walked in and allowed the door to swing shut behind her.
Young woman stood in front of a mirror as she brushed out her long, red hair. Her dark eyes flickered upwards and met Marie's. A smile pulled at her lips. "G'mornin', sunshine," she trilled out.
"'Morning, Sally," she politely responded.
The black haired woman's feet slapped against the damp floor as she made her way to an open shower stall and shut the door behind her. She tossed her clothes and towel over the door and set her soaps in the shower. Peeling off her pajamas, she tossed them over the side wall. After she snaked her hair out from the elastic band, she slipped it onto her wrist and stepped into the shower. Pulling the curtain close between the tiled shower floor lip and the cemented floor of the changing area, she turned the hot water on.
The burning liquid caressed her sore muscles and seeped through her hair to her scalp. Sighing in relief, she squeezed a dollop of body wash on her palm and rubbed it until it foamed and then proceeded to lather it on her skin, massaging out the knots and kinks from the day before. As she worked on loosening her muscles, a smile crept across her face. This was usually something she had to do on Friday after the stresses of the week, and now she was doing it on a Monday after the fun of yesterday.
After she washed the sweetly scented foam from her skin, she poured a healthy dose of conditioner in her hair and massaged it in, gently pulling at the tangles and untwining the strands of hair. It took several minutes of work until her hair had regained some resemblance of normal. Marie rinsed the conditioner from her hair and replaced it with soap which she worked through the think locks until it reached her scalp. Once she felt all the grease and grime lift from her head, she washed it down the drain. Another touch of conditioner on the ends of her hair and she was ready to call it good, but the warmth and constant pounding of the water felt so good. She allowed herself another minute to close her eyes and enjoy the rhythm of warmth being played across her skin.
With a moan at her loss, she shut the water off and wrung out her hair. Shaking stray droplets of water from her skin, Marie pulled the curtain back and stepped out of the shower. She clutched her towel and dragged it down to her. She buried her face in it and then rubbed it down the expanse of her body. Flipping her head forward, she wrapped the towel around her dripping hair and stood up, hands hovering by the sides of the towel in case it loosened and fell. She then slipped into her clothes with a slight struggle as the fabric clung to her skin using the stray beads of water as adhesive.
She gave herself a nod, the towel shifting dangerously on her head, and opened the door. Snatching her clothes, she dumped them on the counter, used the bathroom quickly, washed her hands and grabbed the bundle of clothes before finally heading back to her room. As she dumped her clothes in her hamper and tossed her damp towel over the back of her desk chair to dry, her stomach twisted in pain.
A frown tugged at her slips as she laid a hand against her stomach. A dull headache began to creep up behind her eyes. Sitting on her bed, she took a deep breath until the moment passed. She was finally feeling the effects of not eating yesterday.
I'd like to say the idea of food never crossed my mind yesterday, she thought, but that'd be a lie. It just never seemed to cross his mind, and I didn't want to bring it up and interrupt everything. Does he even eat? Well, no. He doesn't have a need to, does he? Hmm...I'll need to ask him today. But first, breakfast, she concluded as she stood up, pocketed her lanyard and headed out the door to the cafeteria.
The sky's hues were losing the harsher colors of night in favor of the softer shades of day as the sun peaked over the horizon. A young man pulled his blue hood further over his head, hopped from the wind's back and padded across the rest of the street to the fence. He leapt over it easily and landed softly on the snow dusted grass. He crept up to an open window and peered through it, his breath frosting it over. Frustrated, he wiped it away with his sleeve and refocused on inside the house.
A blond girl sat curled up on a wooden chair as she shoveled spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth. An older woman bustled about the kitchen, a cellphone attached to her ear. As she passed the young girl, she laid a gentle pat on her shoulder followed by a kiss on her forehead. The girl laughed before making a show of wiping the kiss off her. The woman smiled sweetly down at her before walking out of the kitchen.
Jack frowned. As much as he loved Sophie, she wasn't who he was looking for. Pushing off from the ground, the wind carried up to a white paned window. He peered through the glass and spied Jamie's slumped form bundled under a pile of sheets. His brown hair fell in a tangled mess over his forehead.
A loud, piercing buzz filled the air. A groan fell through the teen's lips as he crawled from the tangles of the sheets. A hand flew out and slapped the alarm that sat harmlessly next to his bed. The insistent buzzing shut off and the teen dragged his body upward. He groaned once again as he ran a hand across his face and through his tangled hair.
"Jaime!" his mother's voice reverberated through the door.
"What?" he croaked back in an unused voice.
The door creaked open as the woman's head poked through. "Just making sure you're up. You've got twenty minutes."
"Yeah," he mumbled as he rolled off the mattress and began to dig through drawers.
Taking a deep breath, the silver headed boy tapped his knuckles against the glass. He watched as the brown hair bounced around the teen's face as his head flew up and over his shoulder. Jack jumped in excited and waved a hand at his friend.
But Jamie's eyes dulled and fell away from the window, and he turned back to slipping into his clothes.
The blue eyed boy slipped from the wind's grasp and he crashed into a pile of snow. He didn't see me. Jamie didn't see me.
Jack's breath caught under a hard lump in his throat. His chest heaved as his eyes widened.
He really can't see me.
His long fingers snaked into his hair and pulled at the moonlight kissed strands as he bent over and tucked his head between his knees. Tears pooled in his eyes and slowly traced delicate patterns down his cheeks before rolling across his lips and falling as flecks of ice.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry, Jamie.
What did I do?
What didn't I do?
The slam of a door closing penetrated his ear and sorrow. He looked up, brushing the dampness from his eyes, to see Jamie with Sophie close on his heels heading in his direction. Afraid to hope, but more afraid to not, Jack jumped to his feet, throwing his staff over his shoulder and pushing the hood from his head. A smile pulled at his lips as he said, "Hey, Jamie. You gave me a bit of a scare there—"
His voice stopped short as once again that horrible shudder took ahold of his body as Jamie stepped through him and kept walking. Jack felt his fist clench as anger at his misunderstanding and fear beginning to simmer.
A hesitant hand touched his arm and he looked down into the eyes of Sophie, a sad smile on her lips.
"I'm sorry, Jack."
"Why?" he barked out.
The young girl shrugged. "He grew up. He got older. We all do, Jack. You can't stop it."
The silver headed boy looked away from her, his eyes trained on the snowy ground. "Even after everything? How can he not believe after everything that happened? What did I do wrong?" he demanded from her as he stooped, roughly snatched a handful of snow, compacted it and chucked it at the back of the teen's head. "Why can't you believe? What did I do wrong?" he yelled in a futile attempt at Jamie.
The teen in question let out an "oof" as the ball of snow and ice hit his head. He turned around, eyes blazing. "Watch it, Soph! That one hurt."
"I didn't throw it," she said, prickling in defense.
"Then who did?"
"Jack Frost," she answered without missing a beat.
He laughed at her as he turned and continued walking as he mumbled, "Grow up, Soph. He doesn't exist. How could he?"
The young girl turned apologetic eyes towards Jack, but he was already high in the air, pushing away from his former friend.
Why did he have to grow up?
Why did he have to stop believing?
After everything—
All the good times—
He just goes and stops believing.
It couldn't be that easy.
His belief in that he was erring in some way solidified. He had to have messed up somewhere. Jamie wouldn't have just stopped believing in him. He wouldn't. He couldn't. They had been too close. He had to have done something wrong.
Marie brushed off the thin dusting of snow that covered the bench and sat down. She crossed her ankles and stretched her legs out in front of her. Her gloved hands stretched out on the cold bench seat, and her neck craned upwards. Soft, chilled flakes of snow fell lightly from the darkening sky and gently kissed her cheeks and eyelashes. A smile tugged at her lips as she closed her eyes and embraced the brisk weather that nipped at her skin.
A cold hand covered her eyes and she gasped in surprise. A cool breathe caressed her ear, "Guess who."
A laugh bubbled past her lips. "Hey, Jack."
His hand slipped from her face as he straddled the bench next to her, his staff resting across his knees. "You ready?" he asked.
The young woman's green eyes shifted from the sky to meet the bright blue eyes next to her crinkled in laughter.
"Yes," she responded, "I—" Her voice fell through as she spied a dark streak in Jack's pale hair. Without a thought, she licked her thumb and reached out to the mark in his hair.
"Woah!" he exclaimed jumping back.
"What you have a black streak in your hair. Let me get it out," Marie pleaded.
With a pout, he sat back closer on bench. As the young woman focused on scrubbing out the irremovable stain, she barely caught on to the strains of mumbles coming from Jack's lips.
"Whatcha say?" she asked, her brows furrows in concentration.
"Why do people grow up?" he whispered.
Sighing in resignation, she dropped her hands from the insistent black streak. "It's a fact of natural life. We all have to grow up at some time."
As her eyes looked back at the down casted ones of the figure in front of her, her heart sank at realization of what she just said. "Oh God, I'm sorry, Jack. I forgot that you—"
"Don't worry," he said, shrugging off the comment and standing up. He held out his hand behind him, "Ready?"
"Yeah," she mumbled grasping it.
The wind whipped around them and tugged them upwards, her heart remained below. What's it like for, Jack? She wondered, Always staying the same. Not changing. Never having a chance to grow up, have a family.
Her eyes traced his saddened face. His bright eyes duller and his smile strained.
