2| Dream • Drip • Drown

Madame Antoinne hustled briskly through the fire-lit household with a wooden bucket of lukewarm water in one hand and a bundle of buffalo blankets in the other. Several children gathered around her feet and she was forced to step over them for they would not settle down when she ordered them to. She couldn't blame them though. They were just worried, anxious even. And so was she.

Tripping over several toys scattered over the ground, she managed to stumble her way into an oak-laden bedroom. The room was carpeted in extravagant garments imported from India and Arabian hand-crafted pottery hung from the walls. They had all been gifts, if Antoinne recalled correctly, given to the Burgess family by several wealthy suitors.

The Burgess family was well known in the area for being the first people from England to settle in the area. Though their popularity brought in certain jobs and business opportunities, the family under the head of the household - Thaeddeus Burgess - lived a life of simplicity. And it had been a good life. And that it was until the morning prior, when young Pippa Burgess had stumbled into the household, spluttering words about her brother and the frigid ice.
And now here she, Edna Antoinne, was, staring over the flushed and feverish face of young Jackson Burgess. It was a pity that the bright boy had fallen in such a state. Such a pity, indeed.

Antionne placed the bucket of water on the ground beside her and laid the bundle of blankets on the stool shoved roughly beside the bed; and for a moment, she stood there silently watching over the boy, watching his chest move ever so slowly in a rhythmic pattern, and regretting.

She began recalling all of the times the boy, after mercilessly pulling several pranks on her, came to her in thoughtful apology and remorse. He had then followed through with his apology by helping her do chores around the house. He was a truly good boy at heart; and although he kept a mischievous and cunning exterior, he certainly did not deserve his current fate.

A soft breeze of air rubbed up against the back of Antoinne's neck as the door behind her creaked open. She craned her head slightly and saw Jackson's mother, Hester, peer restlessly at her now only male child who laid still upon the bed.

"Hester, mon chere, you sh'uld be off to sleep," Antionne whispered in quiet voice, though she doubted that Jackson could hear her. "Ze doctor said he waz goi'ng to be fine."

"I'll see for that myself." Hester muttered, ignoring Antionne's heedings.

Seeing that she was not going to be able to separate the mother from her child, Edna briskly stepped aside and allowed Hester to approach Jackson's bed. There, the mother knelt on her knees and stared into the boy's scarlet face, caressing his warm brown hair endearingly.

"You 'ave be'n up 'nd about all day since yest'rday." Madame Antionne tried again with a slightly sterner voice. "You need rest."

"I'll rest when Jackson awakens." Hester replied defiantly as she firmly planted her rear on the ground.

"I can see where 'e gets hees rebellious streak from."

"The children are outside of the door waiting for Jack to wake up," Hester said tirelessly, ignoring the previous's comment.

Madame Antionne blinked in surprise, having not noticed that the children had unlatched themselves from her dress when she had entered Jackson's room. The very idea of the children's wary perseverance caused her hard gaze to melt. Edna knew very well how hard it was to bear the thought of possibly losing a sibling.

"You 're doing Jackson no good by stay'ng awake 'nd hindering yourself." the Madame said pointedly. For a moment there was silence. "How ees Mister Burgess fairing?"

"H-He is... blaming the entire matter on himself." Hester answered faintly as she brushed a strand of brown hair off of Jackson's face.

"'nd you are blaming eet on yourself, correct?" Antionne questioned wisely with glowering opaque eyes. She took the following silence as an answer. "Zis," she gestured delicately to the sleeping child, "ees not Mister Burgess's fault, nor ees it your fault."

"It is my fault!" Hester hissed loudly and abruptly as she buried her head into Jackson's moving chest. "It is all of my fault! If I hadn't allowed Jackson and Pippa to go out that day, this would have never happened. I knew that the weather was faring poorly outside, yet I let them go anyways! And now... Why, Teddy won't even look at me! I can't even stand to look at myself in the mirror."

"I believe Mister Burgess ees just try'ng to handle ze situation in ze way he knows best: distancing himself from ozers."

"Why, I highly doubt that." Hester muttered contemplatively as she glanced up at Antionne.

"We both know zat Mister Burgess ees not very guud at expressing his emotions." Antionne replied gently, cracking a very small smile. The change of expression was then mirrored onto Hester's face and the two of them laughed a small laugh.

"...und."

"Did you say something?" Hester questioned hesitantly, her heart beginning to beat furiously within her chest.

Antionne quickly shook her head. No.

"...op...kan...roo." came the unsteady voice from the small bed.

Hester lifted her head up fully and stared wide-eyed as the covers of the bed began to shift and turn. Stumbling back slightly, she pushed herself up into a standing position and clamored over the face of her son.

His face had lost some of its scarlet hue and his pleasant eyebrows were now furrowed in a manner of frustration. His brown head bobbed from left to right on his pillow, causing his hair to become frayed and staticy.

"J-Jack..." Hester choked as she bent over and stroked her son's face repeatedly. "Jack! Jack! It's me, mum!" She watched in shock as his hands flew to his face and in horror when his face became scrunched with pain. "Call Teddy! Call Teddy! Tell him Jack is awake!"

And Madame Antionne did as she was told, rushing out of the room like a mad cheetah.
Jackson Burgess was waking up.

The first thing Jack realized as he drifted into wakeness was that he was unexplainably warm. How that was even possible, he didn't even know - no, he couldn't comprehend it. Never in his life had he felt so, so warm...and good. Then again, the world had become pretty incomprehensible ever since he had been rebirthed from the ice... Ice?

Holy crap, he was still trapped under the ice! He needed to swim up! Up! Up! But... his head was screeching in agony and he could not muster the strength to do so. So instead, he simply cradled his forehead in his clammy, sweaty (?) hands.

"Jack! Jack!" a voice called out to him with epitome of worry. "Jack!" The voice continued to ring obnoxiously in his ears and caused his head to throb even more.

"Ugh..." he muttered. "Quiet..."

A slamming sound suddenly ricocheted through his mind, sending another quiver of pain quaking through his mind. The sound was soon followed by the clamoring of feet and feverent, incomprehensible shouts. God, why was it so damn noisy? All of the commotion was making him feel like...like he was...he was having a "hangover", if he was using the term correctly.

North had demonstrated to him the privileges and effects of alcohol several weeks before, including a realistic demonstration while using a small elf as his test subject. The elf's hangover had been hilarious to Jack back then, but his current "hangover" was nothing to laugh about.

"I hateeee my liffeeee..." he groaned as he shook his head, the force causing his eyes to flutter open in some sort of bombastic chain-reaction. And thus, his surroundings melded into view right before his squinting eyes. He slowly made out shapes and figures, distinguished poised words from meaningless drivel, and came to find himself staring face-to-face with three worried looking adults.

One of them, a woman of thirty, watched him warmly from the bedpost of the bed he was apparently laying on (?). Her hair, a sheen color of brown, was tied up into a messy bun; whilst her clammy hands were wrapped tightly around his own. Another woman stood next to her, her beautifully aging hair swaying loosely above her shoulders. She was dressed rather oddly - well, they were all dressed oddly. The man, who stood in the corner of the room unmovingly, in particular, was dressed oddly. He had a grim face on, causing lines and wrinkles to appear on his otherwise youthful face. And although the three adults appeared to have almost nothing in common, they were all staring at one thing: him.

Jack quickly jerked his hand away from the clammy woman's grasp and shot up in "his" (was it even appropriate to call it "his"?) bed. His mind raced at alarming rates as he attempted to assess the situation he was now in.

The people around him... They were adults, right? And adults no longer believed in Fairies and Magic anymore, right? Then why could they seem him?!

His heart raced with new-found excitement, before it plummeted again. Maybe these people couldn't see him. Maybe they were just staring at something behind. It wouldn't be the first time something similar happened. Well, there was only a single way to find out.

"Can you guys see me?" he asked in barely a whisper.

"Jack..." the brown-haired woman smiled as sparkling tears erupted from her eyes. She lunged for him and pulled him into a hug, causing him to become stiff with surprise and blush. He hadn't been hugged by many woman before. Actually, the only woman who had ever embraced him was Toothiana and she wasn't exactly human. And this woman was. "Jack... I was so worried!"

His dark brows narrowed suddenly and he gently shoved the woman away before backing off to the corner of "his" bed. He didn't trust these people. What if they were in line with Pitch? What if Pitch was coming back..? What if... they were the reason why he suddenly was able to feel and endure heat and warmth

"Jack, what's wrong, honey?" the brown-haired woman asked again and stared at him warily, attempting to reach for him again. "Please look at me." And that's when Jack noticed it. Well, he noticed two things actually, the first thing being that these people surrounding him were British. (And he very well loved Bri'ish accents) The second thing he noticed was that these people knew who he was...In fact, he vaguely knew who they were too. Very, very vaguely. He had been so delirious with heat and sweat that he didn't notice the recognition and accents until now. But, no matter how hard he tried, he could not remember why they seemed so familiar to him.

That was until the door behind the flabbergasted trio of adults creaked open and several small children crept into the room. Jack, however. didn't notice them at first. He was way too focused on the people before him to clearly notice any changes in his surroundings.

"Who are you?" Jack inquired slowly as he gently dipped his head towards the brown-haired woman. Almost instantly, expressions of shock smacked themselves onto the three adults' faces; and almost instantly, Jack realized that he had said something obviously wrong.

"Jack." the adult male suddenly spoke, his grim expression molding into a familiar and worried one. In less than a second, Jack recognized the man as the one who had saved him from the lake.

"Y-You," Jack stuttered as he pointed an accusing finger at the man, "You're the one who kidnapped me after I almost drowned in the lake!"

"K-Kidnapped?" the man frowned and shook his head as the older of the two women turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"You know very well what the bloody hell I'm talking about!" Jack retorted heatedly, attempting to mock their English accents. "You pedophile!"

"What does 'pedophile' mean, mum?" a quiet voice asked from the end of the room. "And why is Jackson speaking so strangely? Is he alright now, mum?"

All eyes turned on the three children who stood quietly at the door's edge. Two of the trio of children were male and appeared to be twins about the age of five. They both had the same set of shining black eyes and the same mop of light brown hair. One of the two - Jack couldn't tell which one - had asked the question. They were adorable, Jack decided.

The third child, a young familiar girl with long brown hair and dark brown eyes, stood between the two twins. Wetness was dabbled around her eyes and it was clearly evident that she had been crying prior to entering the room. But unlike the others within the room, Jack knew exactly who she was.

"P-Pippa?!" Jack blinked in disbelief. "You're...my sister...?"

It wasn't until Bunnymund trudged through the forest and over the bridge that he finally stopped to catch his breath. Why was it so bloody damned hard to find an obnoxious frost pixie in the middle of the woods? Hell, it was just like trying to find a needle in a haystack!

It suddenly occurred to the pooka that the devious spirit of winter could possibly be purposefully hiding from him.

A sudden stab of guilt hit Bunnymund in the chest and he suddenly found himself regretting the fact that he had accused the frost sprite on so many occasions. Sure the kid was obnoxious, but deep inside he meant well. To be honest, Bunny actually respected the boy. He was courageous for sure, standing up to Pitch like a true Guardian.

Bugger. Now he was feeling really guilty. But that was why he was coming to apologize, right?

The pooka continued hopping once more, leaving large footprints in the snow behind him. As the remaining trees around him began to thin out, he found himself standing in front of a very large frozen pond. He recognized the said pond almost immediately as the place where the Guardians had their final confrontation with Pitch. Jamie, whom the pooka had visited half an hour before, had told him that if there was any place Jack would be, it would at his signature pond. And so here Bunnymund was, scanning the surface of ice with slightly squinted wasn't long before the pooka found exactly what he was looking for.

There in the center of the solid ice lay Jack Overland Frost in a sprawled out position on his back. It was hard to see him clearly from afar, but Bunnymund could tell that he was staring up at the white sky.

"Oi, Jack!" he called insistently. The boy didn't answer so Bunnymund assumed that he was getting the silent treatment. "North, Tooth, n' Sandy wanted me to apologize to you for ranting at you earlier." Once again he received no response. "Okay, fine. I want to apologize to you for yelling at you before... But that doesn't mean that what you did was right!" More. Impending. Silence. "Okay, so maybe I was a bit harsh, but you don't have to ignore me for it!" The boy didn't even move his head to acknowledge that Bunnymund had spoken. Why, in fact, as Bunnymund looked closer, it appeared as if the boy wasn't moving at all! "Jack?"

The pooka quickly hopped forward onto the ice and rushed to the frost spirit's side. As he observed before, the boy was indeed not moving in the slightest. His chest wasn't even moving and his eyes weren't even open. And the most troubling thing about the entire situation was that the boy was literally soaked through with water. His white hair was mopped over and clung in thick patches to his face, while his porcelain skin was fifty shades paler and appeared to painted over with a shiny coating of liquid. Jack looked like death.

"Jack!" Bunnymund shouted as he shook the boy roughly and lifted him up the scruff of his shirt. "Wake up!"

His demands had no response and he was forced to lift the frost spirit over his shoulder to get him to safety. Once Bunnymund and Jack were off of the ice, the pooka tapped his foot twice on the ground. In the blink of an eye, the duo was swallowed by the frosted earth.

Jack stared in disbelief at the young girl standing in front of him. His question from before still had yet to be answered and it appeared that it would never be answered for the small girl suddenly through herself onto him and embraced him in a tight and loving hug.

"J...aaa...ck," she sobbed into his shirt, "Jackkk. I'm so s-so..ooory."

Her tiny fists curled around the hemming of his shirt and it was quite apparent that she was not going to let go anytime soon.

Jack, on the other hand, simply stared at her in shock. Pippa lived over three-hundred years ago. She couldn't possibly be alive in present day. What was going on...?

"P-Pippa?" Jack questioned uncertainly, staring into the girl's sleek brown head. "You're Pippa, right?"

"Of course I'm Pippa, Jack." the young girl blinked up at him with large, watery brown eyes. "W-Why are you talking all funny for?" The girl suddenly began tearing up even more. "A-Are you becoming even more weird in the head because...because y-you fell...through the ice...?... It's all my fault!"

Trying his best not to take Pippa's insult to heart, Jack awkwardly patted the girl on the head in a kind manner, "No, no, don't cry! It's not your fault at all... Come on, smile or something. The world's not all tears and gloom."

"Y-you horrible person!" Pippa suddenly shouted in a change of mood as she slammed her fists against Jack's chest. "You said that we were going to play a game! I-I believed in you and you were just lying like you always do..."

"Ow. Ow. OW!" Jack winced in pain as he held Pippa away at arm's length. "Is that any way to treat someone who almost drowned?!"

Drowned. Drowning. Pippa?
The pieces slowly began to fall together.
And the world around him froze.

"Jack?" a feminine voice called to him worriedly. "Jackson, are you alright?"

Jack slowly blinked up at the woman who had addressed him. It was the clammy-handed, brown-haired woman. He frowned in concentration at her, the back of his mind beginning to bubble with clouded memories.

"Mom?" he spoke in barely a whisper.

The brown-haired woman nodded enthusiastically, new found hope brimming in her eyes.

Jack then turned towards the grim-faced man and cracked a very uncertain smile. "Dad?"

North stood over the young frost spirit's now dry and breathing body with a contemplative and worried look etched onto his face. Bunnymund had brought the boy into North's house a few hours earlier. The pooka, between deep breaths and fast-paced words, summarized his encounter with the near-to-death Jack and had relinquished the boy - with much reluctance - into North's care. And after drying the boy off and bringing him back to life through the uses of Christmas magic, now all they had to do (all they could do) was wait. And North was not a very patient man.

"How is he?" Tooth suddenly asked quietly from behind him. Before he could answer, she quickly added, "Sandy is trying to find ways to wake him up...without hurting him."

"He is better." North nodded with a smile. "No longer wet."

Toothiana's delicate face brightened with relief and she fluttered over to Jack's bedside to see the boy's state of health for herself. For a moment she floated there, studying the boy's intricate face and how is chest rose and fell softly.

"It was very kind of you to offer him a place to stay after we defeated Pitch." Toothiana murmured quietly, gesturing around the room.

"Everyone needs home, yes?" North said wisely as he glanced at the glittering fairy with warm eyes. "Even if it is temporary. He rarely stays. Sometimes, he just has a thought-

"-and follows it." Tooth nodded with a small giggle. "It happens quite often."

A sudden eruption of air tickled the back of their necks as Bunnymund entered the room. The pooka appeared to be in a rush, his fur bristling and his eyes shining. Something rather important must have happened to set him in such a mood; and whatever that matter of importance was, North had a feeling that it was involved with something of ill omen.

"You've got to see this." Bunnymund urged impatiently as he nodded towards the hallway. For a moment, his eyes strayed to Jack's quiet body. And for a moment, something resembling guilt flickered quietly into his serious expression. After that small moment passed, he returned his gaze to Tooth and North. "It's Father Time."

Tooth and North quickly exchanged glances and followed Bunnymund out of the room. If they had stayed in the room just a moment longer, they would have noticed that Jack Frost's icy blue eyes had flickered open.

Not many children know this, but Jack Frost can be cruel.
Not many adults know this, but Jack Frost can be kind.
Not many people know this, but Jack Frost will always be Jack Frost.

[Author's Outbox]

blacklightningwolf: Yup, yup! And many thanks!

Sandblasted-Kitten: /dramatically epic music. And I wanna write more...sorta..

The White Grim: Aww, why thank ya'! ;D Here's an update just for you! D-Do you love me now..? /shot dead.

Khfanatic441: Thanks and will do!

Soaha: Ohh... Same here! But no one ever wrote a story along these lines so I had to write it on my own. xD. And I feel the love.

Alluring Alliteration: Well, I'm trying my best to make it interesting ;P. Oh, btw, your name is awesome. It rolls of the tongue nicely...if that makes sense? /shot.

blackkyu: /sniffles. Thank you. That means a lot c,;

victiniphantom: It will all be revealed in time. /nods and waggles fingers mysteriously.

Shadowofdusk: Well, let me ease your pain... /winkwink. Oh god, I'mmacreep. Thanks though! ;D

...

A/N: Alright! Another chapter in just two days! Huzzah for G.L.! But...sadly... my inspiration for this story is sort of dying out, so there's a slight chance that I might not update in a while. But then again, I'm going to see RotG again with some of my friends this Friday so maybe my inspiration'll come back then...? Ah well, thanks for your reviews and please review some more if you have le chance!~

Edit 1: Holy crap. There were so many grammatical errors in this chappie that it hurt to read it... /le sigh. And I doubt I got them all through this edit. Ah, well. /shrugs