Behind Enemy Lines
By: TG
Summary: When Jack Frost, a disillusioned Lieutenant in the United States Navy, is shot down behind enemy lines, he begins to realize that his yearning for adventure might be his downfall. Luckily he's got Tooth, North, Aster, and a whole boatload of people trying to get him home, and he might just make it…if the mysterious tracker doesn't get to him first.
Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians/Guardians of Childhood, the USS Carl Vinson, or the movie Behind Enemy Lines
Warnings: Language, sex, scenes of war, misused history.
AN: Just found out that I didn't get the job I interviewed for last week so I'm kinda bummed. Hopefully posting this and seeing your responses will cheer me up.
He's been walking for hours when he first hears the noise.
It is an odd sound, something that doesn't quite fit in with the natural sounds that surround him. He stops and listens, stilling himself and regulating his breathing, ears straining to catch the sound again –but to no avail. He dismisses it, thinking it to be a product of his overactive imagination –his body might be rested, but his mind certainly is not.
In this way he plods through the trees, taking out his compass and map every few hours to check his course. He is not making time nearly as fast as he would have liked –he has to stop every so often and check his surroundings, because with it being winter the forest floor is littered with crunchy leaves and dry twigs that snap under foot, and it is difficult for him to distinguish something foreign from his own sounds. He is also finding that he needs to watch his steps –the forest floor is covered in decaying tree stumps, which look as though they'd been deliberately and hastily hacked off, as well as strange dips in the earth. He'd almost been caught unawares a few hours ago and stumbled into a shallow ditch, and it hadn't helped that the leaves and brush had hidden it from view.
He comes to a clearing and stops, squinting up at the sun. It looks to be about noon or a little after. This looks like a decent place to stop and rest –across the way the trees are a bit thinner, providing a bit more coverage but giving him an open area where he can see should anyone try to sneak up on him. Open spaces might be a risk for him, but they are a risk for his enemy, too. He settles down against a tree trunk and sighs. All the adrenaline he's carried with him from the day before is gone, and now he just feels so goddamn weary. He tries to keep a hopeful attitude, but Sandy's death weighs heavily on him. The thing about having so much alone time is that now he has all the time in the world to think about all the things that went wrong, all the things he shouldn't have done. He replays their conversation over and over in his head, damning his past self each time those four words pass through his mind: Want to go investigate?
He'd been looking for a fight, hadn't he? How he wishes he'd never opened his mouth.
His thoughts are spiraling out of control –he has to get ahold of himself! Not only is now not the time for this, it just isn't safe to let his thoughts stray period. So he breathes slow and deep and unstraps his radio.
"Nor –" Jack coughs and clears his throat, voice rough from disuse. "North Pole, this is 05."
Jack only has to wait a few moments before Tooth's excited voice drifts across the airways. "Ja –I mean, 05! How are y –I mean, what's your status? Have you eaten? Do you have enough water? Are your feet staying dry?"
Jack laughs. It has only been a few hours since they had last talked, but he can understand her sentiment. Right now he lives in a world of unknowns –he has no idea if his next step, his next breath will be his last, or if he'll ever see his friends again. Or, if he comes out of this alive, if he'll even be the same person. One thing he does know for sure is that his friends will do anything to get him out of this mess, and every time he hears a friendly voice on the radio he's reminded of how many people has his six, Tooth included.
Her worrying is a friendly reminder that he is alone in the woods, but he isn't alone.
"Tooth Fairy! Hey hey, I'm fine!" He says soothingly, still chuckling a bit.
"I know, but we just…we worry."
"I know," he murmurs. He lets the conversation lull a bit, still weary of giving the radio too much of his attention. A sudden gust of wind sweeps his hair off his face and blows the dry leaves into a frenzy. "You and Santa, you're doing well? And Ph –I mean, uhhh…the Yeti?"
"Yes, all doing well!" Nick yells directly into the radio. Jack can just make out Phil's grunt of displeasure at the new nickname and Tooth's pained cry in the background as North steals the radio away. He has to bite his lip to keep his amusement in check.
"Good to hear, big guy. Listen, can you hand me to the Easter Bunny?"
"Sure sure, we hand you to loverboy!"
Jack flushes, embarrassed, but Aster's voice over the radio pulls a smile to his lips.
"05?"
"Hey Bun-Bun," Jack murmurs. His heart pangs a bit at the sound of Aster's voice; it hasn't been that long since he'd last seen him, but it feels like years. "Miss me yet?"
"…You know I do." Aster's response is equally quiet and wistful. "I just… Want you home safe, Ja -05."
"God, Bunny," Jack whispers, sinking to a crouch against a tree trunk and very much not thinking about how Sandy will never get to come home.
"How are you holding up?" Aster asks. His voice is calm across the airwaves, soothing and comforting in a way that spoke of confidence in Jack's abilities.
"Good, all thing considered. Though I think Tooth might take one look at me and try to stuff me with food once I get back. Not exactly an environment that encourages fine dining."
"I'll take you out to the nicest restaurant you can find, Snowflake."
"Snowflake?" Jack teases as the radio lapses into embarrassed silence. "How cute! You have a nickname for me!"
"…I take back what I said about feeding you."
"Too late," Jack sing-songs, grinning.
"You're a little shit."
"I love you, too."
The radio is silent, Jack bites his lip and groans, head thudding back against the tree truck. Why did he have to say that?
"Uh, we should probably talk about that, huh."
"Didn't seem overly interested in talking at the time," Aster points out, smirk evident in his voice.
"No," Jack agrees. "I had other things on my mind. Not that you seemed to be objecting."
Aster's bark of surprised laughter sparks a curl of warmth in Jack's chest, and he smiles.
"Bring me home, Bunny, and I'll see what I can do."
"Next time it won't be in a closet, that's for sure, mate."
The radio rasps a bit and suddenly North's voice booms out across the airwaves. "You did what? In a closet?!"
Jack can't help it –he laughs so hard he snorts, the cold air burning his lungs as he tries to suck in breath. Oh god this is too hilarious. He's almost glad he's not there, because he would have so much trouble looking Tooth and North in the eyes right now. Poor Aster.
Jack's laughter sobers almost instantly as the hair on the back of his neck rises. He's being watched, he can feel it. He brings the radio to his lips and, very quietly, whispers, "Someone's coming." He keeps his finger on the transmission button, terrified that a stray sound can mean the difference between life and death. Very slowly he turns, crawling to peer around the trunk of the trees he's been leaning up against. At first he can't see anything, but a flash of light catches his eye and –there, about a hundred yards away stands Black Robes. It only takes Jack's tired mind a millisecond to realize he is staring down the barrel of a sniper rifle before he is up and moving.
"Shit! Shit shit shit!"
A bullet zings past him and the tree to his right explodes; he barely flinches as a shard of bark scores a line along his cheek. Jack breathes harshly and tries to focus on not dropping his only line of communication as he zigzags. He needs to focus his thoughts and recall some of his training, but it's as though his mind is a blank slate, wiped clean by terror and a sudden spike of adrenaline. All he can do is breathe and run and pray and hope that that will be enough to save him.
He chances a glance back, trying to gauge the distance between himself and his pursuer and sees that the man is already lining up for another shot at him. All he can do is keep running, keep creating angles between them, but this time it isn't enough.
Jack cries out when the bullet grazes his upper arm, ripping through cloth, muscle, and skin. He stumbles and falls, groaning as he throws out his free hand to catch himself.
"Fuck!"
He's been running uphill, and he's fallen close to the crest of it. Black Robes might have the advantage in the distance but Jack has the advantage when it comes to speed, and if he can get up and over the top of the hill he'll have a few precious seconds where the sniper won't be able to see him. Maybe he can gain some distance. He knows he is grasping at straws, but it is all he has.
Jack scrambles up the crest of the hill, trying to ignore the spray of dirt that flies up from another near miss, and almost rolls down the other side –after a few fumbles he gets his legs back under him again and takes off. He is panting now, his breath visible in the wintery air. Against his will, his thoughts turn away from the situation at hand, back to his friends and –
"Aster," he pants, but stops; he realizes he doesn't know what to say –there is nothing to say.
A sudden noise like the cracking and felling of a tree rents the air behind him and he spins. His mouth drops open –there, at the top of the hill he'd climbed, stands approximately fifty men and two tanks. The men have stopped movement and are shouting at each other in a language Jack doesn't understand –looking for him, he realizes.
He starts, instinctively wanting to bolt but afraid the movement might attract their attention. As slowly as he can, he kneels down on the ground and begins to crawl, wincing at every sound he makes as he scrapes his way through the crunchy leaves and the dead branches. He is so busy looking behind him to make sure none of the men have caught wind of him that he isn't paying attention to what's in front of him. The ground abruptly drops away under his hands and he falls forward with a cry, tumbling down a muddy bank and into a ditch.
Jack lands face first in the muck at the bottom of the ditch and groans. He raises himself up on his hands and knees and moves to spit out some of the mud that has gotten into his mouth and freezes.
He breathes in, breathes out slowly and brings a shaky hand up to cover his mouth. All around him, mostly covered by the mud, are dead and decomposing bodies. He hasn't fallen into a ditch –he's fallen into a mass grave.
He doesn't have time to freak out though –he knows he's just made enough noise to alert his pursuers to his position, and even worse he knows that he has no time to run. In just moments they will be on top of him, and he will be dead (he purposefully does not think about the fact that he is already lying in a grave). So he does the only thing he can think to do –he rolls around in the mud, making sure to coat his clothing and hair in the gunk, grabs what is left of the nearest body to drape on top of him, creates an air pocket so he won't suffocate, and plays dead.
Aster shakes.
He isn't alone in the bridge, but luckily the only others there are Master Chief Tooth, Lieutenant Commander North, and Phil the intelligence officer. He has a sneaking suspicion that they know exactly how much he cares for Jack, and it is almost a relief that he doesn't have to bury his fear underneath his usual cool façade –he doesn't think he can at this point, anyway.
Everything had started off so happy –it had been so good to hear Jack's voice again, to be able to joke and laugh with him as if nothing is wrong. But then, like a switch, everything changed, and that is the moment they all realize that there is a huge difference between objectively knowing that Jack is in danger and actually hearing it on the radio. Now they can hear in real time the shaky fear in Jack's voice, his little trembling gasps of pain, his panicked, hitched breaths. Every sound serves to break their hearts just a little more.
It feels, to Aster, like they are all just replaying in their minds the moment when Jack realized he wasn't alone. "Someone's coming," he'd whispered. He'd sounded so scared and it was at that moment that Aster knew he never wants to hear Jack's voice sound like that ever again.
And now they are forced to sit still and listen to the rest of the Jack's transmission, knowing full well that it could be the very last thing they ever hear from him. God knows they've already heard enough to fuel their nightmares for months to come.
For a few seconds all they can hear through the static is Jack's frantic panting and the squelch of what they hope is mud, and then the rumble of tanks pierce through the semi-silence.
"It sounds like they are right on top of him!" North stage whispers. Tooth shushes him.
They all stand, silent and still, listening. The din grows louder, and then quieter, and then all they can hear are voices. Phil quickly takes his seat and puts his headset on, heavy brows furrowing in concentration.
"Search them," he says, translating. "Search the bodies."
"The –the what?"
There is more shouting across the airways, and Phil says, "use the spikes."
From somewhere behind him he hears Tooth let out a miserable sound. All Aster can do is stare at the radio and listen as the wet suck of the mud softens the dull sound of flesh being stabbed and ripped open as the Serbs search for his –for Jack.
"Bozhe moy," North whispers. My god.
It is just like watching a horror movie with a blindfold on, but this is real –it is actually happening and the four of them are powerless to help the one they love.
"Не ваља! Није овде!"
Jack doesn't speak Serbian, but that seems to be some kind of signal or order to leave, because within a few minutes he can feel the rumble of the tank engines turning on and the sounds of the men and machinery growing more and more distant. It takes nearly every ounce of will power to stay still, to keep listening. Just because his ears are telling him that they are leaving doesn't mean they actually are, but oh god he just wants so badly to scramble up and get out.
As it is, he can only force himself to stay in the ditch for another ten minutes, because he is running out of breathable air.
The adrenaline from earlier is gone, replaced with hollow exhaustion. The muck sucks at his limbs when he tries to move, drags him down into the bog and makes him wish for just a second that he can just lie there and let it take him. He managed to lift his arms out of the muck and realized that the radio is still clutched in his hand.
Jack stares at it. He is so tired, but he knows that his friends are on the other side, that they need him to come home. He works his other arm free from the muck and begins to army crawl to the other side of the dit –grave. It is a grave –and once there, he almost doesn't have the strength to haul himself out. It is by strength of will alone that he manages, and once he's clawed himself up he pitches over onto the snow bank the realization of what has just happened begins to set in.
"Oh god," he breathes. He can feel his heart rate start to skyrocket as his breathing picks up. He's been so focused on survival that he hasn't thought about what it was exactly that he'd been lying in. Objectively he'd recognized the ditch as a grave when he saw the remains, but he hadn't –oh god, and the mud covering his clothes and coating his skin isn't just mud, but partially liquefied remains of hundreds of human corpses.
Bile rises up in his throat and he jerks his head to the side and retches, horrified and distraught. He throws up so hard that his vision swims and his stomach cramps, and he has to close his eyes to keep the vertigo at bay. Once he is done he drags himself as far away from the grave as he can get, choking on his own fear.
Distantly he becomes aware of the sound of static, and it takes him a moment for his hysterical mind to realize that it is the radio –he's dropped it a few paces back, and now that the transmission button isn't being held down Aster can contact him.
Oh god, Aster. He'd heard –but at least he hadn't seen.
"O5, come in. 05? Goddamnit Jack pick up the goddamn radio or so help me –"
Jack crawls back on shaking limbs and picks it up –thank god the snow has wiped it mostly clean of the mud.
"Aster, Aster –" He meant to reassure, but he is pretty sure it comes out as a sob, so he clamps his mouth shut.
"God Jack –"
"Aster it's all over me!" Well, he'd tried to stop, but now it's like the panic is bubbling up and spilling out of him and he can't tamp it down. He is sobbing in earnest now, so hard that he feels like he is tearing his throat to shreds. Aster makes a confused sound and Jack keens. "Oh god Aster, it's –"
"What! What's all over you, Jack?"
"Their bodies!"
"What?!"
"I fell into a mass g –grave, Aster."
There is a sickening silence on the other side of the radio for a terrifying instant jack is afraid they've lost connection or that Aster has left him, but then Tooth takes over, her voice mostly steady –calm and motherly. Jack tries to breathe slowly.
"Jack, we need you to get to a water source. You need to get clean so you don't get an infection or get sick, okay?"
He lets out a shaky breath. "Snow work?"
"Yes."
Jack scrambles over to a patch of clean snow and doesn't hesitate to scoop it up in his hands and brush himself off with it. Some of the muck has dried on him and comes off in sloughs, but most of it is still wet and goopy and sticks to his fingers as he works. It only takes about fifteen minutes to get his clothes, hair, and skin clear of the mud, but he keeps going, scrubbing furiously at whatever bare skin he can find, convinced he is still dirty. He can feel the grit of it on his cheeks, can feel his hair lying flat with the weight of it, and it makes him want to vomit again but he chokes it back.
He is losing himself, he can feel it. Jack forces himself to stop scrubbing –he forces himself to take a deep breath, to actually look down at himself and see that the mud is gone with his own eyes. The mud is gone and he is clean and he might still be feeling the phantom grit of it on his skin but it isn't really there. He stays kneeling in the snow for a moment longer, welcoming the cold numbness creeping up into his hands and knees. The cold helps him focus, helps anchor him to reality.
"05?"
Jack sighs and picks the radio back up from where he dropped it. Thank goodness it is waterproof. "I'm sorry."
"Oh, Jack…"
"Where's… Where's Aster?"
"He left to go talk with Admiral Lunar," Tooth says, sounding worried. "He told me to remind you that your orders are to get to RP Hotel Alpha –"
"-Charlie Niner, yeah, I got it." Jack frowns. "Aster, is he -?"
"He was…really upset, Jack. As soon as he heard what you said about the –he tore out of here saying something about having a chat with the admiral. He wants you back right now –we all do, but I think he's taking this so hard because he's your CO and he also –well." Tooth clears her throat.
Jack grins and sings, "he wants to kiiiiss me, he wants to huuuug me –"
Tooth and North laugh and tell him to check in again the next day.
As he folds the radio up and sticks it back in his pocket, he tries to smile. It doesn't quite come to him, not yet, but maybe if he keeps trying he'll remember how to smile again.
AN: 1."Не ваља! Није овде!" Serbian. No good! Not here!
2. I have an opportunity to meet a friend for the first time and I need a couple hundred bucks to make it, so I'm opening up art, fic, and cosplay prop commissions. Check it out at frostedhips. tumblr tagged/ commissions if you're interested!
