Break of Dawn

A/N: Well, this chapter was hard to write. Especially Jack's nightmare. It was incredibly draining, and I still don't feel like it came out wonderful, but I guess I'll leave that up to you, the readers, to decide. Just tell me whether it sucks or not. Actually, I'm too sensitive for that, so maybe not. xP Anyway, thank you guys for the reviews! :D Wow, look at us, we're over one hundred! Thank you so much!

The house was blissfully warm when Aster reentered, drenched in steadily melting snow and clutching his paperback novel, Jack following close behind. Aster could hear the boy's wet sneakers squeaking on the foyer floor as he edged around to stand in front of the couch, already struggling to get the coat off. It seemed he didn't want to be in the "death trap" as he called it for any longer than he had to.

"So, officially, I won that," Jack grinned cheekily at the man before refocusing his attention on the buttons as he talked.

"No, I'm pretty sure I was the winner of that," Aster argued, watching the boy struggle for a second or two before coming around in front of him, kneeling slightly to help undo the buttons.

"Oh, please," Jack snorted, "you were the one who squealed like a girl when it got too cold for you." His eyes sparkled with amusement as he spoke.

Aster's fair skin flushed a brilliant red. "Look, do you want help getting out of this coat or not? Because I could leave you in this—

"No, I want out of this!"

"Good. Then stop making stupid comments."

If the white-haired boy flinched slightly at the flippant use of the second-to-last word in the sentence, Aster didn't notice.

Now I remember why I quit wearing this coat, he thought to himself as the buttons simply refused to separate, remaining stuck together as if they had been sewn that way. The stupid buttons had had a tendency to jam, not wanting to let their occupant go. Maybe Jack had had a point when he'd called it a "death trap". Not that Aster would ever let on, of course. He didn't want the boy getting smugger than he already was.

"Alright, now c'mon. Sit." Aster motioned for the boy to have a seat on the couch, having finally freed him from the death trap coat. He flung the soaking wet coat over the arm, allowing it to drip onto the foyer floor for a minute or two while he retrieved a beat-up quilt that he thought he might have gotten at Goodwill. He draped it over the boy's small form which, he realized now, appeared to be quivering slightly from cold. He clucked his tongue disapprovingly.

"Can I go back outside today? It's probably the last snow day of the season, and I don't want to miss it." Hopeful blue eyes peered up at the man.

Aster shook his head. "Give it 'til at least after lunch. You need time to warm up."

Jack gave a dramatic sigh, flopping back on the couch like all was lost. The twenty-year-old grinned slightly at his antics, adding slyly, "And of course, when you go back out, you'll have to wear the coat, too."

The sparkling, sky blue eyes widened. "No!" Jack protested – well, more like begged, really. "Not that coat again! It looks ridiculous, and it's way too big on me!"

"Are you insulting my hospitality, Frostbite?" Aster raised his eyebrows carefully, taking the seat next to Jack on the couch and grabbing an afghan for himself. "Would you rather not have the coat and freeze to death?"

"It's not cold enough for that!"

"Oh, yes it is, if you stood outside long enough."

"Well, I'm not planning on parading around in my long johns, am I? Go on, be a sport. Don't make me wear that coat again."

Aster cracked a small smile, but remained firm. "No, I'm sorry, kiddo. Regina did leave you under my care. That means she trusted me enough to look after you, and I'm going to do that – even if it kills me," he added teasingly.

Jack made a face. "Well, that coat's going to kill me, if I have to wear it again."

Aster shook his head, giving a small chuckle as he ruffled the kid's springy white hair. "You want something to drink? I could make some hot chocolate or coffee to warm you up faster."

"Nah, I'm…I'm fine. I'm plenty warm."

"Yeahhhh, sure. Your lips are practically blue, kid. Your name might be Jack Frost, but you are not immune to getting a cold. And what would Regina say then?"

"Oh, Regina, Regina, Regina, is that all you can think about? If you were truly trying to impress her, you wouldn't have subjected me to that death trap!"

"It was a coat!"

Jack's heart was pounding in his chest, crawling up into his throat. The pain from the beating was just a mere thrum in the background of his mind, but the reminder of the beating was swift whenever he tried to move. He could feel himself shaking, staring up at the man who towered over him, salty tears dripping off his face, falling onto his tongue and chin, blurring his vision. But he didn't need to see the man to know he was there, those eyes like smoldering embers constantly watching him, even when he was all alone. His voice was so smooth, so velvety. The women could describe it as "charming", but to Jack it was just cold. He knew what that voice could do. He shuddered just hearing it again.

"L-leave me alone," he blubbered, his face screwing up as he started to cry again, burying his head into the carpet, trying to tell himself that if he couldn't see the man above him, the man couldn't see him.

His battered little body was wracked with the terrible shudders both from fear and from the cold drafts drifting in through the cracked windows and slashed curtains. "Please…please…no more…not again." Jack's lip trembled, but the man was angry tonight, and there was to be no reprieve from the pain. "I'm s-sorry, I'm s-sorry, I won't be any trouble ever again, I'll b-be good, I'll be g-g-good, please!" His blue eyes swam with tears as the man stepped closer to him, surveying him with unmistakable rage.

"You won't be good enough to make up for what you've done today." That velvety voice was laced with malice, and Jack could not understand how so many people could find that voice "charming" when it could be so mean. He knew then that begging would do no good, and he could feel himself shaking with fear as the man drew nearer and nearer, his hot breath a warning.

Jack forced himself to control the tears. All that crying and whimpering would do no good, because nobody was going to burst in here and save him, no matter how hard he cried. He knew this from bitter, painful experience; he could not count the nights he had stayed awake crying and begging for his mother. But he knew better now. Nobody was going to come in here and save him. Nobody loved him. He had memorized a lot of things that the man liked to tell him, but there was one he knew best, one he knew now was true: Jack Frost did not deserve a mother.

He sniffled, wiping away the remnants of his tears, forcing himself to be brave. He tried to straighten his tiny shoulders, pulling himself into a sitting position. The man came closer still, and Jack's heart sped up, his courage crumbling away. He was scared. He didn't want to be beaten anymore. He met the man's gaze, those smoldering amber eyes, but much good it did him. The pain started then, started anew, startlingly fresh. He wanted his mother again, even though he knew he did not deserve one.

Jack Frost awoke with a start in the darkened bedroom, a scream pouring out of his mouth.