Disclaimer: DreamWorks owns RotG, not me.

Emma had decided now was a good time to get her mother.

She tip-toed out of the room she shared with Jack, shutting the door behind her. Careful to avoid the floorboards that made the most noise (just like Jack had taught her), she reached her mother's room. The door was already opened, so she moved silently (well, she tried to be silent, and that's what counts) towards the bed.

Abigail Overland was sleeping deeply, and Emma almost hated to wake her. But she was afraid that Jack was dying (he was making the most awful sounds, and Emma was scared!) in his sleep, so Emma had to do this.

"Mom." Emma whispered, tugging on the covers. When that gained no reaction, she tried again. "Mom!" she whispered a little louder, shaking her mother directly this time. All that got was a grumble from the sleeping figure (Grown-ups also didn't like to be woken up! Emma thought that was just for kids).

Emma took a deep breath. "Mom," she said in a normal (albeit shaking) tone, not quite ready to yell. "I think Jack is dying mom you have to come save him because I'm scared and he didn't come save me from the nightmare!" Emma was sobbing by this point, draped over her mother in an effort to wake her up.

Mrs. Overland woke up. "Emma?" she said sleepily. "What is it?"

"Jack's dead!" Emma sobbed, far beyond reason by this point.

"What?" Mrs. Overland sat up in bed, pulling Emma under the covers. "I don't think that's quite right." She climbed out of bed, tucking Emma under the covers. "Why don't I go check on him, you stay here and go back to sleep."

Emma yawned, falling asleep immediately, with tear tracks drying on her face.

Mrs. Overland walked down the hall worrying. Something was definitely wrong, and even if Emma had just had a nightmare, like Mrs. Overland suspected, Jack usually calmed her down. The fact that he hadn't meant he was either sleeping too deeply to hear Emma (impossible, Jack was probably the world's lightest sleeper, he would wake up the second he sensed a presence moving around him), or… he really was dead. She tried to shake the thought from her head. Jack was not dead, not on her watch!

She breathed a little easier when she opened the door to Jack and Emma's bedroom, hearing sounds from under Jack's covers. At least he was alive. She stiffened with alarm when she realised that the sounds were whimpers, and it was only one word, repeated over and over.

"Ow, ow, ow…"

"Jack?" Mrs. Overland was afraid that Emma was right, afraid he was dying.

The blankets were bunched up on the bed, Jack hidden inside them, the whole bundle shaking. Mrs. Overland gently unpeeled the covers from around Jack. She stopped with worry, and the realisation that something was very wrong crashed down on her hard when cloudy blue eyes stared at her unseeingly.

It started out dark, and he slowly became aware that it was different this time. The dark wasn't the most threatening part, oh no, this time the cold was much worse. It coiled around him, the only thing that kept the darkness at bay, and he was so afraid that the darkness was simply waiting for the cold to be done with him, and then it would pounce. And the most terrible part? The cold was familiar, like a friend, and it was slowly seeping into him, making his insides want to burst.

He was certain it couldn't get worse, when it did. He was suddenly growing, being stretched and squished, shrinking. The lack of anything in this place felt one hundred times more abhorrent as his limbs were pulled and twisted, and he was no longer aware of up or down, standing sitting falling flying-

Something had changed.

Was it the light? Maybe. The pain increased, he was being cut, and the cold had locked itself inside him and was struggling to get back out, pressure building inside him. He was about to explode, his insides wanted out, and he found that he didn't care if the light had changed.

He struggled; Make it stop, he wanted out! It hurt!

Ow, ow, ow…

Shivering violently, the gloom closed in on him. It seemed to grin, as though claiming a prize, and he was scared witless that he was the prize.

"Jack?"

The darkness hesitated, he had seen it! If only that voice would say something again, maybe it would banish the slithering, creeping ailment. Another shiver wracked his body, and the cold burst, ready to break his skin open to get out. It was already trying, if the various pains that littered his body and the liquid that seeped from them were any indication.

A sudden thought struck him, and he wondered why the cold had invaded his body if it was only going to try to get out after. Maybe the shadows tricked the cold, he wondered in a brief, mad moment. Maybe the cold would try to get back at the dark, and then he could escape both.

The light changed again, a little brighter. If he could just get rid of the darkness he would be able to see what was going on! The darkness hesitated again, and then lunged for him. Still unable to tell which way was which, or even how to move, he simply sat (stood, fell, floated, lay) there, petrified. The darkness swallowed him, and the cold reacted.

It rose up and set fire to his nerves, freezing the cuts he could feel on his body, rushing out of him and crashing into the darkness. He felt some relief, the cold had lessened, the darkness was gone, and the wounds seemed to have vanished; no longer hurting, only a dull ache in their place.

He shuffled, and his limbs felt awkward. He could feel the cold lingering, and something else. He had to-

"Jack. Wake up, please."

He knew who that was! The voice sent a shiver of light into that emptiness, and the grayness brightened, becoming an off-white color. Wait. Wake up? But that meant… he was asleep! All he had to do now…

Jack managed to force himself out of his head, and he realised his eyes were already open. He blinked at the face he was looking at.

"M-" His throat was raspy, and, clearing it, he tried again. "Mrs. Overland?"

She sighed, (though she seemed exasperated, he could tell she was relieved) and sat down on the edge of the bed, smoothing his hair away from his face. "It's been almost sixteen years, Jack. You have always had permission to call me mom."

Jack flinched and looked away. "Sorry." He mumbled, though not really having any intention of stopping.

He looked back at Mrs. Overland when she stopped stroking his hair. She was frowning at him, looking perplexed and a little sad.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Fine, I guess." Jack frowned. "Why? Did something happen?" He had been pretty sure dreams, even nightmares, left no visible mark. He hadn't made any sort of sound while he was asleep, had he?

She hesitated, and he took that as answer enough. He sat up, pushing the blankets off him, and in that action he registered several things that were amiss.

The first; his limbs felt distinctly wrong, like he wasn't using them right. The second; Emma wasn't in the room (Where is she? Did something happen to her? Please, let her be alright). The third; everything seemed oddly bright, especially for the middle of the night. It was like the colors had been unmuted. And the last; something was awry with the strands of hair that usually hung in front of his face. It took him a few moments to realize it was because his bangs were white.

He turned to Mrs. Overland, shaking. "Mrs. Ov- um, mom?"

Her face showed the pace of her thoughts; expressions flickering over her face and ideas glimmering in her eyes. "We'll say you've gotten sick," she said, trying not to let Jack's panicking affect her rationality, struggling to stay poised to calm him down. "We can tell Emma it might be contagious, and that she should stay out of the room, just in case."

"But…" Jack trailed off. "How though?" He tugged on his hair, and the feeling of wrongness once again crept up his arm. "How did it happen?"

Mrs. Overland hesitated. She clearly didn't know. "We can figure that out later." She stood, and forced him to lie down again, tucking the covers over him. "Goodnight Jack. Sleep on it, and then we can fix it." She smiled at him fondly, before walking out of the room, footsteps soft, shutting the door behind her.

Jack shuddered under the strangely rough blankets, and forced them off of him. He inspected the underside of the bottom most blanket, and discovered why it felt so rough: there was ice coating it.

His eyes widened, and he remembered the feeling of the cold struggling within him during his dream (Nightmare. Dreams weren't supposed to be scary, dreams weren't supposed to hurt (burnsqueezecut)), and bursting out of him. Maybe it had happened, maybe it wasn't a nightmare. If the cold exploding out of him in a wave had really happened…

Jack stumbled up, out of bed, nearly tripping over his legs which felt both too long and too short. When he righted himself, he whirled around; searching for the ominous darkness, afraid it would creep and sweep menacingly towards him, ready to swallow him in its depths.

And odd sensation in his feet caused him to pause in his panicked searching. He glanced down, and saw, to his surprise (shock, horror) that there was more ice (frost, his mind told him helpfully, don't get them mixed up) steadily spreading away from his toes.

Backing away from the frost, Jack bumbled into the window. Nearly falling over, Jack managed to catch himself on the window ledge. Deciding sleep was out of the question (darkness to watch for, cold to keep at bay); the window seemed like the perfect place to settle, with its view of the sky.

The night was cloudy.

A/N: So, would T be the right rating? I'll most likely go into more detail that would require the rating later, so I'll leave it just in case. After three weeks of posting on Monday, I have broken my consistency! Its mostly because I'll be out for a week, so this update is later to even out the waiting time for chapters. Anyway, reviews!

Brenne: It's relevant to the plot, so I won't tell you, and also because I'm evil.

MagicWarriorDragon: :D

IReviewThings: For sure!

The purple hippocampus: When is antagonising Bunny not fun? ;)

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited! Until next time!