Enjoy the next part!
Jack was in a dark place. Not a metaphorical dark place, but an actual dark place. He literally couldn't see his own hand in front of him, which sucked.
He didn't even know how he got here. One minute he was sitting in a tree, and the next he was…here. Jack felt like he was missing something, and it didn't take long to figure out what.
"My staff." He whispered. Indeed, his staff, which had always been tight in his grasp, was gone. Jack squinted in the darkness. It didn't look like he was going to find it. Once realising this, he tried to escape from wherever he was, or at least find someone else.
"Is anyone here, or is it just me?" He questioned into the darkness. He tried to move but found that his limbs were completely paralysed.
"Great. Just great." Jack tried not to panic, attempting to move. During this he realised that he wasn't actually standing on any kind of ground; he seemed to be floating in the air.
"What the hell happened whilst I was asleep?!" Jack cried out in frustration, trying to turn his head. Nothing happened. Great.
Just great.
"Where am I?!" He yelled. No answers came, so he tried again. "Could anyone show me where I am or not?!" A few seconds after his words, a blinding light penetrated into the darkness. Jack blinked, shocked at the sudden brightness, and tried to see into the light.
A shadowed shape began to form, and the spirit squinted harder as it came into focus.
"Hey – that's the lake!" Jack shouted to no one, focusing on the image. He could see the familiar circle of trees and the snow that coated the grass. The image shifted and moved downwards so he was looking down at a reflection in the ice.
"Finally…some answers…" the spirit muttered, focusing once more as a face came into view. Two, large blue eyes…white hair…pale skin…
"Hey! That's me!" Jack yelled. But he was fairly sure he was here. Well, wherever he was.
The reflection in the ice suddenly smiled and waved, as if it knew he was watching. Then, it began to walk around the lake, twisting his staff.
"What is going on?" Jack muttered. He kept watching the "screen" as Not-Jack walked into the forest, unflinching as sharp stones dug into his feet. The spirit watching tried to move again, but made no progress.
With a sinking sense of dread, Jack realised he was helpless, and would just have to wait.
Not-Jack abruptly stopped and slowly looked down at a small wooden bed frame with a hole underneath. Not-Jack tilted his head and crouched, swinging its legs into the tunnel.
"No!" Jack yelled. "I'm not letting that happen!" The spirit tried to move again, closing his eyes in concentration, and felt his legs jolt. He smiled and the new movement; however, his joy was short lived at a strong wave of pain spread through his side. Gasping, Jack clutched the area, opening his eyes to look at the "screen" again. To his surprise, Not-Jack's legs had shifted too, awkwardly to the side.
"I told you I'm not letting that happen." The spirit grinned.
"Soon you will." A voice whispered close to his ear. It was the same voice he had been hearing since they defeated Pitch. However, what made Jack gasp in shock was the fact that Not-Jack had said the same words at the same time.
"What…What are you?" Jack whispered, trying to see in the darkness. The voice only laughed.
"Only a little longer, I think…" It whispered. Jack suddenly felt exhausted, and his eyelids started to close against his will. "You will be weak enough soon…"
"No chance…" Jack muttered, letting his eyes close. The voice just laughed.
—
Jack opened his eyes blearily, rubbing them with his palms. It took him a moment to realise where he was.
"Why am I here? Did I sleep walk?" Jack muttered, sitting up. He was lying next to a small wooden bed frame in a forest. Through the trees, he could see his lake, the ice glistening on the surface.
"Have I walked in my sleep before?" Jack muttered. A fogginess had began to settle in his brain, making it hard to think. His side was also hurting again, but not as bad as before. As if this was a reminder, Jack rolled up his hoodie and inspected the wound.
"It's grown…" the spirit traced the lines that had now spread up to his armpit and over his thigh. The skin was still hot to the touch – Jack was pretty sure that was bad. His skin had never been hot in his life.
Eyebrows furrowed, Jack tried to recall anything that might help him figure out why he was sleeping outside Pitch's old lair. However, after a few minutes of sitting uncharacteristically still, the spirit could only remember darkness, which didn't help.
"Better get outta here…" Jack suddenly realised fully where he was, and how annoyed the Boogeyman would be if he caught Jack Frost sitting outside his lair. He stood up, using his staff as a support, but only got halfway up before a large wave of nausea hit him. He collapsed back on his knees, clutching his stomach and breathing deeply. A headache was beginning to grow in his skull, and another roll of sickness took over him.
Suddenly, he lurched and threw up, dropping into his hands and knees. The spirit screwed up his eyes and his stomach constricted painfully, tears leaking through his eyelids.
As quickly as it started, it stopped and it took all of Jack's pride not to fall face first into his own sick. Arms trembling, he propped himself back onto his knees, wiping some sweat off his brow. His injured side was becoming more painful by the second, and he bit his lip to stop himself from screaming out.
"Ouch." Jack settled on muttering, panting. Slowly, he opened his eyes, wincing as the sunlight increased his headache. He looked down, expecting to see his own vomit.
"What?"
The puddle of vomit certainly didn't look healthy. Instead of a murky green or orange, it was a thick black – like tar. His confused and worried thoughts were interrupted, however, by a coughing fit.
Gasping, Jack clamped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle the sounds. Eventually, the coughing fit died away, leaving the spirit with an aching chest and a fire-pain in his side.
"Ouch…" Jack repeated in a small whisper, drawing his hands away from his mouth. They were stained in the black liquid too, increasing his fear.
"Jack? You here?" A voice called, making Jack jump violently. He recognised the voice immediately as North's.
What is he doing here?! The spirit screamed internally, wiping his hands on the ground. Unsteadily, he stood up, swaying alarmingly, and stumbled away from the black liquid he had vomited earlier. Still, he was aware that he still probably looked pale and tired, not to mention shaky. Using his staff as a crutch, he stumbled into the clearing, almost toppling over. Luckily, strong arms caught him before he could hit the ground. The spirit looked up and saw North holding him, his expression twisted in concern.
"Are you okay?" The older guardian asked gently.
His day literally couldn't get any worse.