A/N: In case you're wondering, fem!Jack in this fic looks a lot like regular Jack. Flying is a lot easier if you're not wearing a skirt, and short hair is easier to take care of. Also, this first meeting between the two takes place sometime in 1787.
Anonymous review replies:
darthcat: I'm glad you are liking the story! I wasn't expecting such a warm reception for just the first short chapter; it's nice to know that people like genderbent BlackIce of any fashion :) I'm planning on the updating schedule to be one chapter every Monday, and hopefully even w/my school schedule I'll be able to keep up w/that x3;;;
Anywho, here's the next chapter wherein we are introduced to Jack, and Pitch bitches about the Guardians/Goody Two Shoes Brigade.
Remember that reviews/constructive criticism are very much appreciated :)
He really quite likes the so-called "uncivilized" places. "Uncivilized" for mortals can usually be regularly interchanged with "the frightening unknown". And Pitch takes great pride in making certain that continues. After all, what was life without challenges?
He's drawn to a small town that had recently been hit by a particularly vicious snowstorm. Nature had always been so kind to provide all sorts of sources for him in the wake of her wrath. And really, winter is the perfect time for him to thrive. Even if the humans are well stocked for the cold weather, there is always that little niggling doubt, that "what if?"
Daylight is fading quickly, as is usual during the cold months. An undisturbed blanket of snow covers unsettled land as far as the eye can see, the vast whiteness becoming a canvas for the sunset. The town itself is bustling with adults going about doing whatever chores they can do before the long night can set in, and children are engaged in a rare chance to play outside. A group of them are having a snowball fight, their laughter ringing crisply through the air, and while Pitch would like to say that his attention was drawn to them by complete coincidence, it would not be the truth.
Most of the children playing are bundled up against the cold, and the tallest of them can't be more than ten years old, but darting in and out among the squealing brats is a white-haired, lightly dressed teen whose bare feet hardly stay on the ground as they flit around the children. The joyful grin on the teen's face is abruptly wiped away when one of the children runs through them as if they aren't there, and a part of Pitch shivers in sympathy, knowing all too well what it is like for your existence to be ignored.
He is surprised to see the teen go back to playing with the children, although the spirit's smile is now quite strained, and Pitch feels his temper flare suddenly, not to mention quite irrationally. He continues to watch from his darkened spot as the shadows grow even longer and the wind begins to bring the bitter night chill. The children part ways and retire to their homes, and the spirit is about to leave as well when Pitch's curiosity gets the better of him.
"Good evening," he greets, stepping out into the light of the waning crescent moon. "I don't believe I've ever seen you around before."
The expression on the teen's face is a mix of disbelief, fear, and excitement. "A-are you talking to me?"
"Who else would I be talking to?" Pitch asks, an eyebrow raised.
"Oh. I-it's just, nobody's ever talked to me before, and I've never really seen anyone like me around," the girl (now that he's closer he can tell) stutters, an undertone of relief and hope in her low voice. "Not since the Moon-" She stops and nervously taps her staff against the ground, gnawing on her lip a bit.
"What has he done this time?" Pitch grumbles, aiming a glare at what little he can see of his old friend.
"You know him?" The girl sounds surprised. "Does he talk to you?"
He glares a little at her wistful tone. "I don't know why you'd want him to talk to you, as he's just a conniving old busybody." His small outburst takes both of them by surprise, and he closes his eyes a moment to collect himself. "Let me start over. Hello, I'm Pitch Black, though I'm more commonly known as the Bogeyman."
"I'm Jack Frost," the girl introduces herself, a wide grin on her face. She cocks her head slightly. "You don't look that scary."
"And you don't look much like a boy," Pitch retorts dryly. "Or is "Jack" short for something else?"
"I dunno actually," Jack shrugs, her gaze darting off to the side. "When I woke up… the Moon told me my name, but nothing else." A wan grin crosses her face. "It was actually pretty fun until somebody walked through me."
Several choice profanities about certain lunar meddlers nearly make it past his lips. "You mean you have no memories prior to… waking up, was it?" At Jack's replying nod, Pitch's frown deepens. This was most unlike the Man in the Moon's regular methods. To create a spirit and then just leave them with no guidance at all, just a name? No, it didn't sound like him at all.
"I take it he doesn't talk to you either?" Jack's soft question brings Pitch out of his thoughts.
He gives a small snort. "Our previous conversations have been mostly one-sided anyway. If he talks to anyone anymore, it would most likely be those Guardians he's appointed."
"Guardians?"
"Yes. They "protect" the children of the world," Pitch mocks. "Mainly from me."
"From you?" Jack frowns, leaning forward on her staff.
He can feel a spike of nervousness from her, and he can't help the predatory grin that he gives, nor the subtle flaring of the nearby shadows. "Fear is not something very well-liked, never mind that it can sometimes be helpful."
Jack gives a small huff. "Probably doesn't help if you intentionally do it." She glares weakly at Pitch, causing him to chuckle.
"Fair point," he concedes. "My reputation helps keep the riff-raff away as well, though it does get tiresome getting blamed for every last thing."
"I know, right?" Jack nods. "I mean, sure I can make snow and ice, but it happens naturally too! Not my fault the kangaroo's too damn stupid he can't weatherproof his eggs." Her bottom lip juts out in an overexaggerated pout, but Pitch can tell that she is genuinely annoyed. Then what she said sinks in.
"I wasn't aware there was a kangaroo spirit."
"He's mistakenly called the Easter Bunny," Jack tells him.
Pitch stifles a smile. "He actually is a rabbit though."
"Are you serious?" Jack exclaims incredulously. "Have you seen the size of him? No rabbit is that tall."
Pitch just laughs. After so long without a proper civil conversation, Jack Frost, naive that she may be, is a most welcome change.
The next time Pitch sees Jack is on a chilly day in France, where she is bringing what she calls a "snow day". Pitch's reasons for being there are less altruistic, but he doesn't have time to say anything before Jack is bombarding him with questions about himself that she'd come up with since their previous meeting.
Though she is rather naive, the lack of suspicion and hostility is a nice change from his usual interaction with others of their kind, so when his jaunts take him places where he's more likely to see the energetic winter spirit... Well, it's not as if anyone keeps track of his movements anymore, thinking him to be a weakened shell of his former self.