Well, that didn't take long at all… Please note my sarcasm, because I had really hoped to have this chapter finished long before now.

So, as I said on tumblr: If I'm learning one thing from this arc, it's the Jim Hawkins has a lot of fans….

Also, I know nothing about engines of any kind – not even the first rule. I didn't even know how to spell hydraulics until spellcheck corrected me while I was typing up this chapter. So, don't trust anything Jack says in this chapter as solid mechanical advice. Yeah. Sorry…

Among The Stars

Chapter 26

"So, do we draw straws for who goes back to the ship?" Jack asked, holding up the set of seven reset disks, each in their individual white paper envelopes, held together with a rubber band.

"And have you mess the computer up further?" Hiccup rolled his eyes and snatched the disks out of Jack's hand. "Please!"

Jack started to grin, but it fell as Hiccup's words fully sunk in. "Hey!" He had expected Hiccup to take the disks – but he hadn't expected the jibe.

Hiccup smirked back over his shoulder as he left Jack sitting at the table with Merida and the plates they had used for their lunch. A smirk that told Jack he had just paid for his "date" joke back on The Stormfly. So much for Jack's intention to apologize later.

Hiccup was just at the doorway of the dining room when Jack registered a bigger problem.

"Wait! What am I supposed to do with her?" he asked, gesturing to Merida.

"I'm right here!" Merida snapped.

But Jack didn't glance over at her, choosing instead to stare at Hiccup, who only waved over his shoulder and didn't even pause on his way to the inn's front door.

"Now that's just mean," Jack muttered.

"Could say the same 'bout you," Merida said.

Jack shot her a glare… but decided it wasn't worth wasting his breath. So instead he just rolled his eyes as he rose from his seat and gathered up their plates.

"What are ya doin' with those?"

"Helping out," he said, carrying the plates toward the open doorway that led to the kitchen. He tapped the toe of his boot against the doorjamb to announce himself as he stepped through.

"Oh, Jack, you didn't have to do that," Sarah said, looking up from the sink where she was already up to her elbows in suds and all the other dishes from lunch – flatware, silverware, pots, and pans covered in remnants of everything she had cooked.

Jack just shrugged. "It's no problem."

The last word was pretty much drowned out by the sound of boots stomping across the wood floor. A door on the other side of the of the kitchen swung open to admit Jim Hawkins – in a very visible hurry.

"I'm headed back to work, Mom," he said, shrugging into his brown leather jacket as he headed for the back door. "See you later!"

He was out the door as he called out the last words. Jack recognized the speed of someone trying to get out of something they knew they were supposed to be doing. It would have been amusing, except for the way Sarah called after him, the words dying on her lips halfway before she sighed and gave up.

"What am I going to do with that boy?" she asked. "He acts like I don't know that he doesn't need to be back at work for more than half an hour."

"I can help out if you need," Jack offered.

"I can't ask you to do that," Sarah said. She took the plates from him and added them to the sink.

"Don't worry about it," he said. He took off his gauntlet and vest, setting them on a nearby shelf.

Sarah sighed, but didn't protest further as she picked up a dish towel and Jack took her place at the sink.

Sarah sighed, but didn't protest further as she picked up a dish towel and Jack took her place at the sink. He plunged his arms into the warm dishwater, and went to work at the plates soaking in the water. It was hard to believe a few years earlier he had complained whenever he was assigned dishwashing duty back on Warren.

Why is he so eager to get back to work?" Jack asked, curiosity getting the better of him as he handed Sarah the first clean plate.

"He's not actually going to work," Sarah said. "He's going back to whatever he's tinkering on this week. Silver pays him a commission for anything he fixes. Lately he seems hell bent on earning as much as he can – so he's there more often than not."

"Independence is a big deal at eighteen," Jack said, handing over another plate.

But even as she took the plate, Sarah shook her head. "No, I think it's more than that. At first, it was. But for the past few months he's been… different."

"How so?"

"More focused," she said. "Ever since his father left he seems to think the galaxy is out to get him. Up until a few months ago he was barely staying out of juvenile hall."

Jack glanced up from the crusted plate he was scrubbing. "What changed?"

"I wish I knew," she said. "At first I thought maybe it was a girl. But this city is small enough I would have seen or heard something by now, if that were the case."

Considering Jack had seen how much a boy would change to get a girl's attention. For several months he had been on the verge of hating Katherine, convinced she had stolen his best friend when Nightlight had first become enamored with her. So he wasn't willing to rule out Jim's attitude adjustment being tied to someone of the female persuasion. Especially when he remembered the young man's tone when they had talked about red heads.

It took a little over half an hour for Jack to finish all the dirty fishes, exchanging small talk with Sarah while he mulled over the scattered pieces he had gathered so far.

"I won't let you help anymore," she said, taking the last pot from him. "You're a paying guest. Take this as my thanks, though."

From the fridge she pulled out a small plate with a piece of pie covered in a thin layer of plastic film.

"Another dirt dish for me to clean?" Jack asked, smirking as he took the plate.

Sarah laughed, handing him a fork and shooed him out the kitchen.

Taking the pie, Jack headed out the back door. Once in the fresh air he glanced around to get his bearings and figure out where to go while he ate. He took a seat on the edge of the cliff that looked out over the ocean. It seemed as good a place as any to think. And the air didn't smell like dead fish, which was certainly a plus on this planet.

The ocean was flat, with nothing marring the smooth line of the horizon, save for a few small islands that were little more than small ridges on the horizon. On the beach a few people sat on the sand, with only two or three brave enough to risk the waters that probably couldn't be called "warm" by any stretch of the imagination. Not with the nip in the rapidly cooling air. He wasn't sure whether to be surprised or impressed as he watched a figure break through the crest of a wave and push back a mass of red hair that held its curl even when soaked with salt water.

Merida.

He decided to be impressed. Just a little.

Other than that, there were no visible sighs of life in the water. It wasn't like Warren, where the mermaids were always coming to the surgace to see whatever was going on. If there was one thing they were, curious was the perfect word. Fierce, but curious. It was a strange combination, but one you got used to quickly on Warren.

He really needed to stop thinking about home.

He needed to stop thinking of Warren as home, since going back wasn't an option.

#

"Shouldn't Hiccup be back by now?" Merida asked, leaning in the doorway between their joined rooms.

Jack only glanced at her from the corner of his eyes before he turned his attention back to his datapad.

"Not for a few more hours," he said. "And that door is supposed to be locked for a reason."

Merida groaned in frustration as she turned back into her own room, slamming the door shut behind her. He heard her stomp two steps, pause, then stomp back to the door and throw it open again. "Yer a real pain in the neck, ya know tha?"

"So I've been told," he said, not looking up from the news article he'd been reading. Why he was reading about a trade dispute in the Yomar system he had no idea – boredom was the only explanation could think of. And after several hours of nothing to do, he was more bored than he had been in a long time.

He should be searching for more evidence of whatever was about to happen. But for the moment he wasn't sure where to look. And he was a little wary of leaving Merida alone for extended periods of time. So there he was – reading a news artible on trade disputes in the Yomar system, babysitting a spoiled red head who hated his guts. It certainly wasn't how he wanted to spend his day.

Merida stayed in the doorway for the space of several heartbeats, probably trying to think of a comeback… but in the end she just slammed the door with more force than before, so the pictures rattled against the wall, and stomped away.

"That was almost too easy," Jack muttered.

He couldn't bring himself to go back to the article now that he'd had a distraction. Instead he shut off his datapad and tossed it onto the bed as he stood up from the desk chair.

Military training compelled him to just take a look around. It would be more interesting that just sitting there, so he figured he might as well. With lunch over, the run was pretty much silent, with everyone either gone or in their rooms. When he glanced into the dining room he heard the sounds from the kitchen that he guessed were Sarah preparing for dinner.

The grounds weren't spacious , and certainly nothing special to look at. The Benbow was a practical place for spacers temporarily waylaid on Atlantis. There was something almost desperate, hopeless, about the place. Tough crab grass grew in sparse patches across the otherwise baren landscape. Easily defendable, since it was impossible for anyone to sneak up on. But not somewhere Jack wanted to stay for more than a few days.

He rounded to the back of the inn, where the ground fell away to form a cliff above the edge of the ocean, where the waves crashed endlessly against the rocks that jutted up out of the water. A dead end, in every sense of the phrase.

A week here and Merida would probably be running for him. Jack smirked at that thought, then filed it away as he caught sight of a solar sailor perched near the edge of the cliff, The sail was rolled up to the mast, the engines powered down. An open toolbox, and a span of tools were scattered through the sparse crab grass, leading up to where Jim crouched over the vehicle's motor.

"Impressive," Jack said, hands in his vest pockets as he neared the solar sailor, careful not to step on a hyrdrospanner.

Jim glanced up, ginning with all the pride of a mechanic who had poured their blood, sweat and tears into an engine. "Thanks. Built it myself."

"Nice." Jack crouched down next to him to look at the engine inside. "I don't know much about solar sailors, but it looks good. Though, if you move the hydraulics so the connectors are straight, it will reduce engine strain.

Jim rubbed his chin, looking at the hydraulic connections Jack had gestured to.

"That would also give you more space to move the thrusters aft for finer balance."

"For someone who doesn't know much about solar sailors, you're pretty good."

"I built a hoverboard while I was at the Academy," Jack said, running the back of his knuckles over the well-polished board.

The truth was, he had missed flying with the wind, and he'd hoped the hoverboard would relieve some of the ache. It had, for a while. Until he'd crashed, busting both the board and his collarbone, as well as sustaining a couple cracked ribs, and a few other cuts and bruises. He'd had to take care of them himself (with occasional help from Eep at Crood's Diner), since admitting his injuries to anyone at the Academy would have gotten him expelled. By the time he'd finished healing, he'd found himself numb to any lingering sense of homesickness, so he hadn't bothered to rebuild the hoverboard. By that point, he hadn't cared.

At some point over the past six months, that numbness had started to fade, though he wasn't sure how. Maybe that was why everything – his returning homesickness, as well as his frustrations with Eris and Merida – felt so severe. He was actually feeling them.

Jim pulled him out of his thoughts. "You attended the Imperial Flight Academy?"

Jack nodded.

"I've been thinking about attending," Jim said.

Jack turned to stare at him, momentarily too stunned to speak, as he thought about everything he had hated about the Academy. From the formality and strict rules (enforced curfews and limitations on where you could go and when), the lack of privacy in the form of frequent room inspections, not to mention the uniforms. He reached over to scratch the inside of his left elbow at just the memory of the uniforms.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why did you?" Jim asked, an edge of challenge creeping into his tone. Not that Jack could really blame him.

"Because I was stupid," Jack said honestly, standing up. "Trust me when I say: it's not worth it." He tried to grin, to soften what had come out harsher than he'd intended. "Besides, you don't strike me as the uniform type. And that dress uniform is a torture device."

"That I'll buy," Jim muttered.

"They'd probably make you buzz your hair, too – to make it even." Jack cast a pointed glance at the small braid at the base of Jim's neck, and buzzed hair on the lower half of his head.

"Did they make you?"

"I couldn't get it under control," Jack sighed, running a hand through hair. "By the time it grew back, I learned how to use hair gel." He'd actually gone to a hair salon to learn how to control his hair. Something he hoped he never had to do again.

Jim smirked, clearly amused at the thought.

#

"I had an idea," Jack said, as soon as Hiccup opened the door of their room and came in.

"We could use one of those right about now," Hiccup sighed. He rubbed his face as he flopped back onto his bed. "Shoot."

Leaving the chair at the desk, Jack took a seat on the edge of his own bed.

"What if we got Merida a job here at the Benbow?"

Hiccup lifted the forearm over his eyes to look at Jack with incredulity. "You've lost it. Didn't we already establish she can't wait tables? I'm pretty sure cleaning hotel rooms would be even worse."

"There's more," Jack said, waving him off. "When we leave here, we call her parents, tell them where she is… by the time they get here she'll probably be begging to go home."

Hiccup lay quietly for several moments, eyes out of focus as he weighed the pros and cons of Jack's suggestion. Finally he lifted his head and shoulders, bracing his elbows behind him. "I'm not seeing a down side to this."

"Should I be offended that you sound surprised?"

Hiccup ignored that, sitting up fully. "We could actually make that work. Are they—"

"They're hiring – I already asked," Jack said.

"You really want her off the ship," Hiccup chuckled.

"I thought we'd established that."

He wouldn't exactly wish her on Sarah Hawkins… but he didn't have any other ideas, and this one was mostly harmless. Most of his ideas were, which was why he never understood why people were so apt to give him a hard time even when they worked.

#

Jack had thought he would able to sleep as soon as they finished dinner and went up their rooms. Hiccup fell asleep quickly.

But Jack found himself lying awake, tossing and turning in a bed that quickly went from comfortable to stifling. Hiccup had turned the heater up to a point Jack found almost stifling, which made it hard to relax enough for sleep to reach him. His thoughts weren't helping. They tossed as much as his body did, until they were tangled up in Eris and her riddles, the corrupted computer on The Stormfly, Merida, and other shadowed thoughts that moved too fast for him to pin them and decipher exactly what they were.

Part of his mind went back to the landing hours earlier, imagining all the things that could have gone wrong. If he had miscalculated by just a few inches… It triggered a sense of dread in his gut all over again, as though he were about to make the landing again. Jack shook his head to clear the sense. He had already made the landing, and done so without a scratch to the paintjob or any damage to the landing gears. The only thing wrong with the ship was the computer.

A computer that controlled every aspect of the ship – including the engines and life support. Merida had corrupted the landing gear. But it could so easily have been the engines themselves, and they would have been stranded in space for who knew how many eons. He doubted emergency signals were picked up as often as they needed to be. Or it could have been the life support. Well, at least then they would have died quickly from lack of oxygen, instead of starving as supplies ran out.

Jack reminded himself that it had just been the landing program… but his stomach still twisted in anxiety.

And there was the possibility that he and Hiccup would run out of money while they were here. What happened if they couldn't get another job and couldn't afford to refuel next time they needed it.

All these thoughts were stupid, he told himself, and rolled over onto his back in the hope that changing his physical position would affect his mental position. The ceiling above him was painted white, but the moonlight coming through the window gave it a blue tint.

Against his better judgment he turned his head to look out the window. Two moons hung in the midnight sky. Beautiful – but a reminder that he was probably still being watched by the Man In The Moon, even all these light years away from Warren. That triggered the stale resentment he had thought he was past. But it quickly took the place of the lingering dread, festering like a wound that refused to heal. As it grew, it scrubbed away the wash of homesickness that had been welling up in him ever since his last days at the Academy.

He'd been running from the responsibility foisted on him by a ruler who barely gave him the time of day. Who had told him his name when he had woken up half in the waters of the pond in the Winter Territory, then barely said a word to him. He wasn't Nightlight, the fortunate favorite, who always seemed to do everything right. Or Katherine, adored by everyone. If she couldn't sleep she would have half the governors crowding into her room to sing her lullabies.

No. He was Jack Frost, with no past, a penchant for breaking rules, and no answers to the questions that forever lingered at the hazy borders of his mind. Of them all, he was the most easily susceptible to the Fearlings because of his lingering fears and doubts. No matter what the others said or did, the shadows always had a direct path to him.

Giving up on sleep, he got out of bed and left the room so he wouldn't disturb Hiccup. He considered grabbing his boots, which sat next to the bed, but he shrugged away the thought.

It was late enough that he was the only one in the halls, which almost unnerved him. An inn filled with spacers should have some kind of movement no matter what the hour. But it was quiet – almost eerily so as he made his way down stairs he could see only by the moonlight coming through the window on the landing.

He paused at the base of the stairs to look around, taking in the unfamiliar shadows.

Taking a deep breath of the air that was strangely cool after the sauna Hiccup had created, Jack rubbed his bare chest and looked around. His senses told him there was somewhere he needed to be. It was just a matter of figuring out where.

With one more glance around, he headed for the back door. A shiver passed down his spine as he stepped out into the night air, which was considerably cooler than the air inside. But after a moment he adjusted to the sudden shift.

As he made his way down the rocky steps to the beach, he found himself wishing he'd put on his boots before leaving the room. His pride wouldn't allow him to wish he'd grabbed his jacket as well. It was the principle of the issue. He was Jack Frost, after all….

It was beside the point when he made it to the beach, where rocks gave way to gravel, gave way to soft sand. He went up to where the waves lapped at the shore in layers of water and foam, over the packed, drenched sand, to embrace his bare feet. The hem of his pajama pants were instantly weighed down by the salt water.

Jack looked out across the water, doing his best not to look up at the moons overhead. At one point he found his gaze drifting upwards. But he stubbornly returned it to the horizon before the moons came into view.

Thankfully, before he could start looking upwards again, the sound of murmured voices made him look to his left.

After a moment he followed the sounds, around rocks that jutted out from the cliff, blocking his view. When he saw what they had been hiding, he came to a dead stop, staring.

"You've got to be kidding me."

He recognized Jim's silhouette crouched at the edge of the water, while a second figure come out of a crashing wave and took his hand. A tail flipped up out of the water, green scales glistening in the moonlight.