EDIT 3/14/2016 – Fixed some typos.
In the interest of maintaining some sense of order… I'm going to delete the original version of the subsequent chapters, and I'll add the edited versions as they're updated.
I actually re-watched Frozen as research for the next couple chapters. Which was pure torture. And I decided… I'm just gonna roll my eyes, toss Frozen over the cliff, and do whatever works best for the story.
Chapter 12: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
Elsa's storm was pure defiance against what natural weather patterns wanted to do. With his awareness of that, Jack would have had an easier time trying to sleep through a dragon fight than Elsa's silent battle with the earth itself. Which, as he knew from experience, was downright impossible.
Five months earlier, Hiccup had brought an injured Snafflefang into the stables, but the thing had started causing trouble. After a couple weeks, Toothless had taken it down. At three in the morning. During finals week. Of course.
When he finally managed to drift off (presumably because Elsa was finally asleep, weakening her hold on the weather), there were the nightmares to deal with. They were more bad dreams than a full on nightmares. Especially compared to some of his night visions.
They were enough to jolt him awake, though.
After the third or fourth time, Jack lay on his back, forearm draped over his eyes to block out the growing light through the window. Too many images, real and imagined, swirled through his head. Memories and fears colliding, and bleeding together until he was trying to untangle one from the other.
Finally, he was forced to admit that he wouldn't be getting back to sleep any time soon.
He looked over at the clock on his bedside table. Partially hidden behind Hans Westerguard's book. (He would be glad when he could burn the thing. He wasn't sure how, yet. In the moments when he had a thought to spare – or just didn't want to focus when trying to read it – he imagined ways to destroy it. Dragon fire seemed appropriate.)
5:47 am.
Rapunzel would be waking up in about 13 minutes.
Well, that was motivation for him to get out of bed. It had been a while since someone other than her had made breakfast. Giving her a break seemed like a good idea.
He didn't bother pulling on a tshirt as he left his room, footsteps all but silent on the carpeted floor. Old habits die hard.
Hazy pre-dawn light came through the eastern window, where light blue sky peeked through pink and silver clouds. It wasn't often Jack saw a sunrise… and he wasn't sure what the big deal was. The forest was a black silhouette beyond the white mist that hovered over the ground. A few of the early rising dragons had already come out from the stables, stretching their wings. Apparently "the early bird gets the worm" also applied to rabbits, deer, and other woodland creatures.
As he passed the sliding door, he glanced over out of habit. And sighed when he saw the green Terrible Terror sitting on the other side of the glass.
Without looking away from Jack, the small dragon's forked tongue flicked out to lick its bulbous yellow eye.
Jack considered leaving the thing out there. No one would have to know. He could pretend he hadn't noticed him sitting there. It would save him the annoyance.
But someone would let him in eventually. And the dragon would torment him even more than usual in revenge.
So Jack went over and opened the sliding door just enough to let Pascal slip inside.
"Happy?"
The dragon looked up at him. With the same reluctant tolerance that Jack knew was on his own face.
"You are so lucky Rapunzel loves you," he muttered. Turning away from Pascal, he continued to the kitchen.
Pancakes, he decided. If he was going to deal with Elsa, on less than five hours of sleep, he needed chocolate chip and blueberry pancakes.
There was only one bag of chocolate chips in the freezer, and Rapunzel probably had plans for them. As he grabbed the yellow bag, he made a mental note to pick more up while he was in the city.
Movement from the corner of his eye made him look over.
"Get down from there," he muttered, lunging towards the breakfast bar. He grabbed Pascal, just before the dragon snatched a pear from the fruit bowl. Without ceremony, he tossed the dragon over the counter. If he was satisfied by the thing's indignant squawk, he would never admit it.
He got the batter mixed, and was adding the blueberries, when he heard footsteps coming from the hallway. The tingling at the back of his neck sent a shiver down his spine as his powers receded.
"Hey, Pascal," she cooed, crouching down to pick up the dragon that all but pranced over to her. With practiced ease, she positioned Pascal in her arms so she wasn't being poked by his spines.
It didn't matter that he was tired. Or that Pascal looked downright smug in her arms. Or even that he had to deal with Elsa later. When he saw Rapunzel, the corner of his mouth pulled up in a grin.
"Good morning."
"Good morning," she said, her smile putting the early morning sun to shame. She was already dressed, a long sleeved purple shirt over a pair of grey skinny jeans, and a pair of brown slouch boots. "You're up early."
Jack shrugged, hoping she wouldn't think too much of it.
"Nightmares?" she asked, coming into the kitchen.
"Nothing awful," he said, honestly. "Just the weather."
"Oh." The single word was almost hard, and he looked over to see her dangerously close to frown as she scratched Pascal's scaly jaw.
Before he could say anything, she saw the batter he was pouring onto the hot skillet.
"You're using the chocolate chips? I was going to make cookies tonight."
"I'll buy you more."
Rapunzel hummed. Not quite in satisfaction, though Jack could tell the offering would suffice.
He looked over at her with a grin, and their eyes met.
You know I love you, right?
The words were almost out of his mouth before he could stop them. Biting the confession back, he swallowed.
They would be easy to say. Six words. A single breath.
"What's wrong?" Rapunzel asked.
Jack shook his head, looking back at the pancakes on the skillet. Grabbing the spatula, he set about flipping them. It needed to be done. And he needed to do something with his hands. "Sorry."
"For what?" She looked at him curiously.
Sometimes he wished she had a clue what she did to him. Just so she would understand, and wouldn't look at him like that. When her expression was so curious and open, promising to understand whatever he said… it was almost impossible not to just tell her.
It was why he was standing in the Haddock kitchen. Because he hadn't been able to stop himself from opening up to her. Even when they were supposed to be fighting each other, he had let her get under his defenses. He had looked into her eyes, and his heart had started to come spilling out of his throat.
Sometimes, he dared to hope.
But he pushed those hopes down. Because hope wasn't a guarantee of anything. And he didn't like the thought of rejection. Especially today, when he still had to face Elsa. Having Rapunzel turn him down would not help that. The fact she would try so hard to do so without hurting his feelings would just make it that much more painful.
No. Not today. If he ever told her, it wasn't going to be today.
"Will you get the syrup out?" he asked.
She looked momentarily confused, but nodded, and opened the door of the fridge.
He was trying to think of something safe to say. Something that would dissipate the awkward tension in the air. Even as part of his mind chastised him for not just saying it. The part that didn't buy any of his reasons, and accused him of cowardice.
Of course, if he said it, there would probably be a very different kind of tension in the air.
Because it was Rapunzel. And what were the odds she could love someone like him? She knew his past, and everything he had done, even better than Hiccup did.
"Jack." She rested a hand on his suddenly tense forearm, her touch warm and gentle. It sent an electric jolt up his arm.
He looked over, meeting her gaze reluctantly.
"Are you okay?"
How was he supposed to answer that?
Thankfully, he was spared when footsteps caused them both to jerk back. He remembered suddenly that he was cooking, and removed the pancakes from the skillet. Just in time.
"Good morning, Astrid," Rapunzel said, recovering with admirable speed. "How did you sleep?"
"Great, actually," Astrid said.
Well, at least that made one of them.
Jack glanced over his shoulder, at once annoyed and grateful for her arrival. (Grateful, the practical part of his mind decided.) He nodded a greeting, then turned his attention to pouring the next batch of pancakes. There were five people eating – not counting Pascal, who would take as much as he could get – so it would be pretty much impossible to make too many.
"I'll make some eggs," Rapunzel said, touching his arm again lightly before opening the fridge again.
"Can I help?" Astrid asked.
"We've got it," she said with a smile. And the way she said "we" make Jack more than a little pleased. "Do you want to wash your clothes from yesterday?"
"I'll stop at my apartment and change," Astrid said. "I have to pick up my books."
Books. Jack scowled, remembering that he had class that day. Dealing with Elsa, and her temper tantrum, would have to wait until after that was done.
"Can I borrow your car?" he asked Rapunzel.
"Don't you have one?" Astrid asked.
"I have a motorcycle," Jack said. "I had a car. Until a dragon stepped on it last time Drago attacked the city." He hadn't yet summed up the motivation to go buy a new one. There were too many other things he would rather spend his energy on.
"I have my pottery class," Rapunzel said. "But I can probably get a ride with Hiccup."
"I can give you a ride," Astrid volunteered. She seemed to be falling right into their routine without even realizing it.
"That would work," Rapunzel said, smiling again. "Thank you. Good morning, Hiccup."
Jack looked over to see Hiccup and Toothless coming through the archway.
"Morning," Hiccup said, rubbing his eyes.
"Can I get a ride home with you tonight?" Rapunzel asked. "Jack needs to use my car."
Hiccup looked over at him. "Are you gonna talk to Elsa?"
Jack grunted, trying not to scowl too much as he nodded and removed the second batch of pancakes from the skillet.
Hiccup turned back to Rapunzel as he took a seat on the stool next to Astrid. "Meet me in the art lab when you're done with class."
#
By the time Jack got out of his statistics class, and ate his lunch of leftover lasagna, the clouds were thick and heavy in the atmosphere. It would be snowing within half an hour, if he guessed right.
Well, in good news, maybe the ski mountain would open early.
He changed into his uniform in the backroom of the garage behind Gobber's shop, and left Rapunzel's car in the back lot as he flew downtown. The Arendelle penthouse apartment was clear on the other side of Burgess, near the lakeshore. Amazing view. But always out of his way.
How awful was it that he kept hoping for an attack so he could get out of this?
But there was never a super villain around when you actually wanted one. No kids running into the street. No cats stuck in trees. The one time everyone decided to behave. What memo had he missed?
Within ten minutes he reached the prestigious skyscraper.
As he landed on the roof, his eyes landed on what had once been Obsidian Tower.
Lunanoff Corporation's remodel was finally complete, so it was no longer a black monstrosity cutting through the Burgess City skyline. The sharp edges were gone, and it was silver now, rather than black. But the sight of it was still a bad reminder. Against his will, his eyes turned towards the hills that surrounded Burgess. Pitchiner Manor wasn't visible. But he knew where it was.
He took a deep, shuddering breath as he forced himself to type the code into the keypad on the door.
When this was done, he could go home and watch a movie. Pretend he wasn't totally in love with Rapunzel. Or torment Merida. He hadn't pranked her in a while, and that was a crime in its own right. She was so much fun to torment. Yeah, that would be his plan. He just had to survive the spoiled brat, and he could give Merida a hard time.
Provided she didn't bring Eret around for dinner. Giving her a hard time when the former dragon trapper was around was usually not a good idea.
That annoying, sensible, part of his mind chided him as he descended the stairs from the roof, past the top floor of control panels and random odds and ends. The only difference between Elsa and himself was that she was still stuck in her prison. Of course, he had gotten out even before Pitch was gone. She didn't have anyone keeping her locked away. Not anymore.
That was his biggest frustration. All she had to do was open the door. She even had a sister trying desperately to help her, despite everything Elsa had done to her. But she kept herself locked away, in the delusional belief that she was protecting herself, and everyone else.
He reached the door of the penthouse, braced himself, and knocked.
The door swung open under his touch.
A familiar warning hummed in the back of his skull as he looked through the open doorway. He couldn't pin down exactly what it was that set him on edge. Only that something did. There was a whisper at the back of his mind – a thread of memory too dusty to come forward on its own. One he didn't have the time, or inclination, to follow. Not at that moment.
Not when he could feel the cold wafting over him from inside the penthouse. With it came a smell he couldn't describe, but was familiar with.
Elsa's ice.
Let Merida say all she wanted that ice didn't have a smell. But the flat tang, vaguely metallic, with a sharp undertone he couldn't compare to anything else, was distinct. But if you threw solitude and fear into a blender with ice, garnished with broken glass and cold, hard, cash, that was what Elsa's powers smelled like.
Jack stepped over the threshold, onto the ice that covered the dark stained, hardwood floor. Layers upon layers of ice. Her powers had surged multiple times in the past day or two. But she had managed to keep it contained in her penthouse. That was… an improvement. Not a phrase he got to use with Elsa very often. As long as he had known her, it had seemed as if her refusal to gain mastery of her powers just made it harder for her to control them.
To his left, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city were frosted at the edges. Beyond, the clouds had completely obscured the blue sky.
Maybe it was just that voice that continued to whisper in the back of his mind, but the lack of snow felt like a warning.
He looked around the sparsely furnished living room. Totally impersonal, probably the work of an interior designer to make it modern, and blatantly rich at the same time.
Around him, the air was cold enough to be uncomfortable for him – somewhere in the negative double digits. But the shattered glass in the picture frames that lined the walls told him he had missed the worst of it. Whatever had set Elsa off had caused her powers to spike so suddenly, her surroundings had barely been able to handle the rapid change in temperature.
The broken vase on the floor, which had sat on the end table by the boxy, uncomfortable looking couch, hadn't been broken by the cold, though. It had been swept off the table, and now lay in pieces.
No loss to society, in his opinion. It had been one of those ugly, ancient things that cost a fortune, and no one really liked, but pretended they did because they thought it made them look intelligent.
Again, the warning hummed. Now strong enough to travel down his spine.
Self-preservation told him that the smart thing to do – the safe thing – was to turn around and leave. Walk out the door, never look back. And he would have… if it weren't for a sense of responsibility he had developed without wanting to.
When he inhaled, just under the deadly cocktail of Elsa's powers, there was another smell. Weak. But present. And familiar. His brain caught it more than his nose. Hazy images stirred at the back of his mind.
The smart thing to do would be to get out. His brain was trying to dredge up those memories, while at the same time trying to lock them away in that part of his psyche where he stored things he didn't want to deal with.
But, as he had told Astrid: he was pretty sure they were all crazy.
And he did owe Hiccup. Who had all but ordered him to go through with this.
"Elsa?" he called. Immediately wishing he hadn't made a sound.
He could feel her nearby. His powers thrummed uncomfortably. Like a violin played by a child with no idea how to handle the strings.
But aside from the ice and destruction, there was no visual sign of her.
He walked around the couch, heading for the spiral staircase that lead up to the bedrooms. Rooms that were now abandoned, save for Elsa's. Anna had moved out as soon as she had turned eighteen, leaving Elsa alone with the ghosts. Jack didn't blame her. Not after everything she had been through.
She had tried to convince her sister to come with her. To leave the past behind. But Elsa had refused.
Before he reached the stairway, a hardback book on the iced floor caught his eye. Crouching down, he angled his head so he could see through the air bubbles in the ice. Confirming what he had thought it was.
Hans Westerguard's book.
That was an explanation.
If only he didn't feel like he was missing something.
He heard her footsteps – heels hollow on the iced over floor – and looked up just as she came up to the railing on the second floor.
"Jack?"
There it was again. That feeling that something was off.
Something was cracked and fractured. He just couldn't figure out what it was.
She looked the same way she usually did. A dark blue-green button up blouse over a black pencil skirt, pale blonde hair pulled back in a bun. And her signature accessory of a haunted, woe-is-me expression. (He tried to have sympathy for her. He really did. It just didn't always work.)
She didn't meet his eyes.
"What are you doing here?"
"Checking on you," he said, standing up slowly. Carefully. "The door was open."
He thought she paled, but couldn't be sure.
"I'm fine," she said. Too quickly.
"Fine?" He snorted, pointing out the window, to the heavy clouds descending over the city. It pulled at him. Messing with his thoughts the same way her powers messed with the weather. And with each passing second, it was getting worse. "That's not 'fine'."
"I don't need your help," she said. Still refusing to look at him. Which was new. The last few times he'd seen her, he had wished she would stop looking at him.
Jack frowned, searching her face. Trying to remember the last time she had rejected his help. The first few times, yeah. But it had been a while. The last few times, she had wanted more than his help. That was why he didn't want to deal with her.
"Right," he muttered. "Then do you want to do something about that?"
He gestured out at the storm. This time, she definitely blanched.
Something was off. The sense was undeniable. But whatever piece was out of place, he still couldn't figure out what it was.
"I—I can't."
"That's why I'm trying to help."
A shadow passed across the front of his mind. The all-too-familiar presence of a Nightmare. Its attention wasn't on him – there was no probing, no twisting of his thoughts, no pulling at his weaknesses.
Elsa's eyes widened, and Jack knew exactly where the Nightmare's attention was. He had seen that panicked expression on his teammates. He surged forward, calling on his powers as he braced for a fight.
But he still didn't anticipate the blow.
He expected a Nightmare. That it would appear in the living room to attack him. Or start scraping around in his mind.
He wasn't expecting the blast of ice that hit him solidly in the chest. Slammed him so hard he was knocked off his feet.
Pain shot through his side as he hit the iced floor, sliding a few more feet across the slick surface.
He didn't waste time getting his feet back under him. Instead, he lifted off, hovering in the air so he was level with Elsa. Her hand was still raised from the attack, eyes wide as she stared at him.
"What was that?" he asked, struggling to hold onto his temper. To ignore that every instinct screamed to go into attack mode. He wasn't a peace keeper. That was Hiccup's job. Jack was a fighter.
This was the first time she had ever deliberately attacked him.
Elsa's shoulders rose and fell, breathing heavily. Her mouth opened. As if to answer.
Before she could, her eyes flashed with terror. Then hardened with determination.
That was all the warning he got.
Jack got his hands up just in time to stop the blast of hoarfrost flying towards him. He grabbed it with his mind. The momentum back lashed, pushing him back in midair. But he still wrested control of it. Grunting with effort, he sent the frost back towards Elsa.
She gasped in surprise, shying away so the blast hit her side, and the back of her shoulder.
"Fight it!" he said. If the Nightmare was making her lash out, she was the only one who could fight its presence in her mind.
"No!" She held up a hand, stumbling as she stood up straight.
"I'm trying to help!" he said, anger creeping into his voice. Truth be told, he really didn't like being attacked. It was one of the things that set him off.
"Stop acting like you care!"
The ice across the floor, and up the walls, shuddered as it cracked.
That couldn't be good, Jack decided. Even before spikes jutted out of the ice. He was very glad he was already in the air. An ice spike through the foot was the last thing he wanted to deal with today.
Ice continued to spread, the temperature sinking further. Every exhale was visible as a puff of steam from his mouth. It had been a long, long time since the air around him had been colder than his breath. Not since…
Not since the night of the accident.
He remembered, with brutal clarity, lying in a snow bank as his body went numb. Exhaling, and watching the thin wisp of steam rise up to a sky full of stars. As he lay there, he had made his peace with dying. As much as a twelve year old could, anyway.
Above him, the full moon had been so big and bright… he had looked at it, convinced he saw a smile in the craters on the surface.
He had been aware of the change happening to his body. Vaguely. Been aware that the pain was still there, but the cold seemed to fade. He had figured that was death.
Death would have been sweet.
When he looked back at the mess his life had become since then. Everything he had been through. Everything he had endured. Why couldn't he have died? Why had his body, rather than giving into blood loss and hypothermia, begun to mutate? Dragging his temperature down. Triggering a dormant gene that had turned him into…
"Stop!" He screamed, slashing a hand through the hair. Trying to sever the phantom touch on his mind that coaxed the memories out. Not just the night of the crash. Everything that had come after. The training. The manipulation. The pain… "STOP IT!"
He scrambled for a memory that wasn't tainted with shadows. That the Nightmare couldn't twist.
Light. Gold. Green eyes. A smile that put the sun to shame.
It was a flawed life line. Tainted with his own self-doubt. But it was enough for him to break out of the memories.
Just as the penthouse around him started to creak and groan.
Jack had broken enough steel beams to know that sound. (Vaguely, he wondered if the Burgess Historical Society still wanted to sue him for that old bridge…) If Elsa kept this up, the skyscraper would crack and collapse.
Before he could figure out a good response, the storm nagged at his attention. He would have brushed it off, as he had all day. If the nagging hadn't been accompanied by a flash of lightning that reflected off the ice in the room. A crack of thunder, immediately after. So loud, Jack felt it vibrate in his sternum.
He looked out the window, just as the sleeting snow started.
Thunder snow. The name came back from the meteorology classes Pitch had put him through.
Several times, he had tried to create thunder snow – just because it had sounded cool when he read about it in one of the meteorology books Pitchiner had made him read.. And he was curious what his powers would do in that kind of environment. All attempts had resulted in failure.
The only time he had created a storm like this was when he hadn't bee trying. He had reached a place mentally where anger and despair had blurred into one, and manifested as a raging storm of thunder and snow.
He turned back to Elsa. In time to watch her take a deep, shuddering breath. She looked down at her hands, and he started to move closer. Hoping to see some sign of regret. Not because she had hurt him – but because it was so unlike her.
Instead, her expression hardened.
The next blast hit his chest dead center. Too fast for him to react. Throwing him backwards.
The plate glass windows were bulletproof. Normally, they would have held up under his impact. But the cold had compromised the molecular integrity of the glass.
It shattered on, and his body sailed through.
A shard of glass stroked his right cheek with a razor sharp edge. He grimaced as it cut from his cheekbone, down to his jaw. Heat bloomed in tandem with the pain.
Pain threw him off. Every muscle in his body strained as he fought to regain control of his flight before he crashed into the skyscraper across the street. (Been there. Done that. Not today, thanks.)
Shards of glass rained down, towards the sidewalk. Where people either ran back and forth trying to get away, or had stopped to stare.
His mind raced. Trying to figure out the best way to make sure no one got hurt.
He swept a hand out, praying that it would work. A slab of ice spread from the side of the building, extending over the sidewalk, and the pedestrians. Most of the glass landed harmlessly on the ice. A few hit the ground, but didn't do any damage.
He looked back toward the gaping hole in the penthouse.
Jagged shards of glass rimmed it like fangs in a maw. Ready to devour anything that got too close. That was an image that would haunt his nightmares.
Below, he could hear people shouting. Cars honking as traffic ground to a halt. Why couldn't they just keep moving? Or better yet, clear the area. That would be the sane thing to do. Even he knew that. But no. They had to stop and stare.
It was amazing humanity had lasted this long.
He turned back towards the penthouse, calculating what to do next. Elsa wouldn't come out – wouldn't reveal herself.
So he had thought.
Elsa created a set of several steps over the broken glass, up to the opening.
Jack felt his heart sink as their eyes met.
The rules had changed. And now he had no idea what they were.