Author's Note: So I'm trying to make my chapters longer, as my time has been more restricted lately, which you may already know. A small note for those of you who are curious (I love you :3) my birthday is on March 4, that's the day I either get a tablet, or get enough money to get a tablet. Or start the layout on my sketchbooks. And as soon as the reviews hit the 300 mark, I'm cutting this demon lose. :D and that's what she said :D
!WARNING TO READERS! The content from here on out might be very unsettling, even offensive to others. If you can't handle references and brief descriptions of such things, can't stand violence/blood, or attend church, this might scar you for life.
You have been warned… enjoy :D
LONG CHAPTER WOOP WOOP
Well, this was most certainly an unexpected development, Sandy pondered as he took a small step closer towards the wakening winter spirit in Bunnymund's arms.
Apparently, their Jack, the Guardian who protected the sense of fun in children all over the world, was a pure spirit, one that is made up of good intentions and compassionate wills. Now that didn't necessarily mean that all dark spirits were composed of malicious intent and dark desires, though the majority of them tended to. The Sandman was friends with one of them for a long time now, and while she was never up to anything good, she wasn't necessarily up to anything bad, either. It was a fairly confusing concept, this dark spirit matter. But it all just boiled down to the actual spirit themselves.
If they weren't of malevolent means, they just acquired dark spirit powers through an unfortunate and rough life before dying. But these sides of them were for the most part hidden, some more so than others.
If they were horrible all along, well, that made them a dark spirit too.
This basically meant that Jack had either lived a dreadful, awful life before he died, and this part of him was reawakened by viewing his memories,
Or Jackson Overland was, for all of his mortal life, a horrible person.
The guardian of Dreams doubted the latter.
Sandy was pulled back into reality at the sound of an earsplitting, frightened scream, ripping from Jack's throat as he pushed himself forcefully from Bunny's arms and scuttled backward with shaky hands.
"N-no, no! No, please! Please!" Jack hollered. Tears welled in his eyes and he whimpered like a scared child caught in the woods at night. "Please, please no more! No more…"
Now, Sandy could almost guarantee that it wasn't the latter.
Unable to fight the urge to comfort him, Bunny hopped forward and encased Jack in his strong furry arms. Again, Jack let out a surprised holler, no doubt seeing nothing but monsters charge towards him to finish him off once and for all in this sick game of hide and seek.
But Bunny was a game expert. He previously refused to admit it when Jack was around because it would wage a war of epic proportions, and the Easter Bunny didn't need one of those so soon after last Easter's failure. He knew how to handle situations like this.
He also knew that no monster in their right mind would cradle him like a baby and stroke the tears off of their victims' cheeks. Which is precisely what he did.
"Shh, Frostbite, 's okay. Yer alright, ya dill," Bunny softly whispered, tickling Jack's cold ears with his long whiskers and producing a low purr from the back of his throat. While he didn't stop crying, the winter sprite most certainly calmed down upon realizing that this was no bloodthirsty beast he was up against.
It didn't take long for Jack to realize that he was no longer in danger.
"Bunny?" Jack half whimpered, half cried, with a sort of questioning tone to it as well as a hoarse voice. Had Jack not felt so scared and helpless, he would've covered up this voice somehow, just has he would've in the past. How weak and frightened he must've sounded, but at this point he ultimately decided he no longer cared about what the guardians thought about him. Just as long as they weren't monsters.
Jack cautiously withdrew from his protective embrace and looked up at the guardians, a truly grief-stricken expression written upon his face.
After a long, uneasy silence, Jack spoke to them as if he hadn't seen them in centuries.
"Guys?"
In an instant, all of them were surrounding him, pulling him into a gentle hug, ruffling his white hair, Tooth and North placing kisses all over his cheeks uncontrollably. Had Baby Tooth not intervened, Jack feared that one of the other guardians would start to as well. The bold mini fairy shooed them away, perching herself on Jack's shoulder and clinging onto his hoodie defensively.
"Hey," Tooth whined. "He's not just yours, you know."
Bunny and North laughed faintly.
Baby Tooth, on the other land, simply rolled her eyes. She shook her head and pointed to Jack, then opened her mouth and gestured at her teeth.
With a slight look of discomfort, Tooth nodded. "Right. Guys?" she looked at the guardians as she gently helped Jack back up, who tentatively accepted.
Hesitantly, North explained the situation with his memories, each word dripping with sadness and bitter familiarity, and then with determination.
It didn't take that long for the words to sink in. Jack contemplated the decision briefly, mentally putting a list together of the pros and cons that would no doubt come along with the guardians viewing his memories. Then, after telling himself that all the babying in the world was better than seeing monsters all the time, he accepted their premise.
"Under one condition, though." Jack said sternly as he prepared the canister held in his slightly shaky hands. "It…I…" it was a bit of a struggle to find the right words to explain said condition. "You guys have to promise me something, alright?"
"A'course mate," Bunny nodded, looking to the other guardians for confirmation before speaking again. "If ya really think about it, it's the least we could do for ya."
Jack slightly smirked before gently grabbing each of the guardians' wrists and placing their hands on the flat side of the canister.
"Jackson Overland has been dead for 300 years now, so…he's-he's not me."
He shot the guardians a pleading look.
"Don't replace me with him."
Jack Frost placed his hand on top of the canister. His eyes were then illuminated in a brilliant dark blue, and their sight was enveloped in darkness.
"….North? Bunny?" Tooth anxiously asked. She despised the dark. "Sandy? You there?"
"We are all here, Tooth." A thick Russian accent spoke a few feet behind here. "Now my friends, before memories begin, please understand that we are simply viewing Jack's past. Whatever we see cannot be undone or altered in any way. And… I neglected to mention before, to you or Jack, that… he will be re-experiencing everything we see mentally, and in here." A faint patting sound echoed in the dark.
Sandy already knew this, of course. It was just how dark spirits worked.
"Uh, North?" Bunny inquired tentatively. "It's dark; we can't see, and I highly doubt he'll experience everything in his belly."
"It will be relived in his heart." North said shamefully... "And I did not tell him, because…"
"You didn't want him to be afraid," the Tooth fairy spoke with an understanding tone. "It'ss alright, Nicholas, I'm sure that Jack will-"
They didn't have any more time for discussion as the darkness was replaced with what looked like an old-style church, complete with polished wood and ornate structures and colorful glass windows. While it wasn't a truly spectacular sight, it was fairly interesting. The guardians haven't seen one of them in over 500 years, give or take.
"This must be the first memory… looks like the colonial times to me," Bunny noted to himself, his ears twitching as the doors were pushed open. "Look, someone's comin! We should hide!" he gestured to the three people making their way into the church.
"Bunny, we are not really in the past. They cannot see us." North clarified, inspecting the trio as they grew closer.
"Right… I knew that." Bunny muttered.
The scraggly little toddler looked to be about five years of age, dressed in a loose fitting shirt that was stained with permanent blotches and an old pair of brown shorts that were a tad bit too big for him. His hair was a dark brown as well, and like Jack's usual bedhead look, stood up here or there rebelliously; but it was a little longer than what the Guardians were expecting, and they didn't realize that this ragged looking little boy was Jack until his parents addressed him as such.
"Sit here and wait for us, Jackson." The tall, husky man said, releasing Jack's hand and guiding him over to one of the church benches, with a strange look of both impatience and disgust on his features towards his son.
This man looked to be at least forty years old. If one were to look at Jack and the man that was his father, you wouldn't be able to see any resemblance. This man had a large, blunt nose, smeared with dirt and grease. His hair was black and was beginning to gray. He had a rough texture on his face because of the neglect to shave as well as the neglect to grow out a full beard, ergo placing him in an unruly state between the two that may or may not have made him look homeless. Though he had on a nicer looking outfit than that of his son, if there was one thing that stood out which the Guardians could compare to this young Jack, it was the eyes. A dark shade of chocolate brown. Jack's however, had a curiously bright glint in his eyes, a tint of bright hazel; they knew not of anything aside from fun and games. Not yet, at least. His father's eyes were noticeably darker. They knew of all the many ways one could suffer, as well as how to force it upon everyone else.
The young Jack, in an exaggerated fit of frustration one could expect from a child of this age, crossed his arms and huffed. "But pa! That's so boooring!" The guardians giggled at how much Jack was like this in their time. Then, his expression lit up and he looked up to his father excitedly. "Might I come up to talk to Father John with you please, pa? Or can I go outside and wait for Marshall-"
In a swift and unexpected motion, father grabbed Jack by the right ear and gave it a harsh twist. Tooth gasped at the rashness and violence of his father's punishment. North could only clench his jaw and look away. Punishments during this time period were much more severe than those in the modern times, and he thought it was utterly disgusting. A child could be brutally beaten for the slightest slip up. At least, North thought to himself, it just shows how watchful his peers are to ensure he grows up a respectful young man. Maybe his father isn't as bad as we perceive. Jack yelped and was bringing his hands up to try to pry out of his father's grip, but quickly put them down to his sides, knowing he would probably make things worse. He resorted to desperate and pain-induced whimpering. "Do you need a beatin this early in the morning again, boy?" Jack's father said loudly in his ear. "What have I told you 'bout talkin back?"
Tears welled up in Jack's eyes and he stuttered as the words poured from his quivering lips. "I-I'm sorry pa! No pa! Ye-yes I'll sit and wait here for you, pa, 'm sorry!"
With a final sharp tug, Jack's father released his ear and pushed him forcefully onto one of the benches just as a young woman walked up and took the man's hand.
"Abraham, please don't be so rough with him in public," the woman said with a soft, mellifluous voice. "It sends a bad message, and we are in the church, after all." She turned to young Jack and nodded. "Be good, Jackson Overland."
"Y-yes ma." Jack muttered, looking down at the floor shamefully before massaging the bump on his head.
The woman who Jack addressed as ma looked far too young to be a mother, much less to be married with such an older man. Based on her average height and young features, she looked to be around seventeen or eighteen. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a bun tied with a cheap ribbon, and the pinafore over her blouse was stained thanks to all of the cooking and housecleaning she did while wearing it. Her eyes were brown as well, but not a dark intimidating dark like her husbands. They were a light, soft brown. They knew of the gentler aspects of life. Just underneath one of those beautiful eyes, however, was a large dark bruise streaking across the side of her face. In public, she disregarded it, and did not go into detail in it when it was brought up. She never did, ergo, the townspeople never bothered to bring them up since.
The unmatched couple strode off, one with an intimidating swagger and one with a limp, to the priest patiently standing towards the backend of the church.
Jack slouched there for a few more moments, not knowing what else to do while waiting for his parents to finish their discussion and leave already. He gently began rubbing his bright red ear and running a hand through his shaggy hair in an effort to untangle it, when a small shuffle beside him drew his attention.
Sitting directly beside him was a boy a little older than him, and the same general physical attributes save for the eye color and height (for this boy was a little taller than he was), only wearing a torn pair of dark green pants. His black hair was the same length as Jack's – slightly above the shoulder and slightly under the ear. But this boy's was more ragged and dirty than Jack's hair was, as if the term bathing did not apply until next year's rainfall.
"Hey Marshall!" Jack exclaimed, his sore ear now for the most part forgotten. "Up and at 'em this early in the mornin' again, boy?"
For whatever reason, Bunny winced at how Jack used the same words his father used not moments ago. He couldn't quite explain why; it was just dreadfully unnerving.
Marshall nodded and giggled with Jack. The villagers often gossiped to each other about how Marshall and Jack looked so similar; rumor had it that Marshall was Jack's mother's first child, but she had to give him up to marry Abraham by the order of her parents, and that Marshall had escaped the orphanage and was now living on the streets, as he's always been homeless. Others say that it was the angels' doing, making them appear similar so that they would spot each other from a distance and become lifelong friends, which had ironically happened.
No matter how many times Jack would ask him to go to the orphanage ("They give you food and water and shelter and baths!"), Marshall would cross his arms and shake his head ("They also give you lashings and beatings and chores and sell ya!") Jack always wondered why he said that; orphanages don't sell you to new families…did they?
Marshall tilted his head inquisitively, his bare chest streaked with dirt from a previous wrestling match with some other kids in the village.
"Watcha doing, just sittin' around there? Wanna go outside and play?"
Hearing this, Jack frowned and slunk back down into his former mopey position.
"No, I hafta sit here and wait for Pa."
After a moment or two, Marshall shrugged and scooted closer to Jackson.
"I'll sit with you!" he exclaimed happily, a cheery look in his bright blue eyes.
"Okay," Jack nodded. And together they sat, looking around the 17th century church that they visited every other day with their family in both awe and boredom.
It wasn't long until another child showed up. She was a little shorter than Jack, with short thick red hair pulled into two pigtails on either side of her head. While her apparel was modest and good quality, it was worn down from all of the roughhousing she'd been doing. Though she was a lady, she couldn't quite stay away from the "boyish hobbies", as her family so crudely put it. She quickly tore the bonnet off of her head and used it to wipe some dirt off of her face before walking the rest of the way into the church, seating herself most carelessly next to Jack.
"Hey Margot!" he said happily as she knotted up the strings on her decorative bonnet.
"Hi, Jack! Has Felicity arrived yet?"
"Goodness I hope not! But, ah, you got Marshall and me!" he gestured to the black haired boy who was extremely focused trying to scratch an itch on the back of his neck with one of his feet.
Margot chuckled heartily at the sight and straightened out her pinafore, trying again to resume her role as the lady of the group, at least until Felicity got there to take it over for her.
"I, Jack," she corrected his grammar. "Marshall and I."
"What about you?" Jack asked, slightly offended, earning another laugh from both Marshall and Margot.
"No, I mean- nagh! Forget it, you silly lot." The red-haired child chuckled, pulling two miniature dolls from her pocket and instigating them in an imaginary fight to the death.
Meanwhile, Marshall and Jack peeked over the benches they were seated in to get a better look at Jack's parents as they had a discussion with Father John. And from what he saw, it looked to be a pretty heated discussion. Marshall cupped a hand around his ear in a desperate attempt to hear some of their conversation, but to no avail. He sighed and rested his cheek on the bench, Jack soon following suit.
Marshall groaned. "I wonder what they're talking about…"
Jack snorted. "Something boring, no doubt. Just like church in general."
"Oooh," Margot spoke with a cautious look towards her friends, back to the adults in the church, then to her friends.
"My ma and pa would get real mad at you for sayin' that in God's own house." She said just above a whisper.
Jack glared for a moment or two, and then only sat taller, crossing his arms and speaking with a matter-of-fact tone.
"This isn't God's house! If he is who I thinks he is, he's got a big old mansion to himself! Makes sense, right?" he gestured to the church he was sitting within. "Not some tiny rundown, cheap, useless little-"
"Felicity!" Margot exclaimed, gesturing to the young girl quickly making her way towards the odd trio.
"You took the word right out of my mouth." Jack smiled.
"Oh, shut your yap." Felicity snapped playfully.
Now out of this little bunch, Felicity was the one that stood out the most. Her parents were very wealthy, this much could be seen from the exquisite dress she wore, the ornate curly hair pulled up to an elegant updo on the back of her head, and the realistic looking doll in her hands. Why she was friends with a poor group like Jack, Margot, and Marshall, the other villagers couldn't quite say. But they were closer than family nonetheless, despite Felicity's tendency to be a pain with her pride and ego.
After another nearly unbearable awkward silence, Jack snorted. He stood up and picked up the thick book sitting on the edge of the bench. "Dear diary," he spoke elegantly as he opened the bible to a random page.
Laughter exploded from the group, so loud that it was a surprise the parents didn't intervene there.
Jack merely carried on. "I woke up today with a horrible smell wafting through the window. At first I thought it was Marshalls feet-"
"Hey!" Marshall exclaimed, and he took a second to pull one of his muddied feet up to his nose and inhaled it deeply. "I took meself a bath just two weeks ago, you!"
Felicity shook her head, the perfect curls framing her face bouncing as she did so. "Eww, how gross!"
Jack continued. "Then, I followed it right up to Felicity's door directly."
"Beg your pardon?" She scoffed.
"Nay!" Jack plucked one of Margot's dolls from her hands and held the wooden toy as if it were a sword. "Haha! Beg for mercy, for stinky floozies like you will be smitten for stinking up the church!"
Again, laughter filled the church, Guardians included.
"And-and then they'll be washed in the holy water and sent home without a change of clothing!" Jack laughed, before quickly adding, "Can't even imagine that sight right there.
"En garde!" he challenged Felicity with his doll-sword, bible still in his other hand.
Everyone was laughing their heads off, save for Felicity, who if anything seemed more offended than anything.
"Ladies do not swordfight," she stated plainly, sticking her nose up in the air and straightening out her doll's dress.
"They don't burn noses off either." Jack giggled, setting the doll down on the bench beside him.
If only he'd put down the bible instead.
"JACK!"
The voice was so loud and angry that all of the children were temporarily paralyzed. Jack flipped around to see his Pa coming toward him with an angry scowl on his face, father standing impatiently where he was with a look of despise towards the boy.
Jack shot a look at the bible in his hand and quickly set it down gently, immediately realizing that playing with it was nothing short of a mistake.
"I-I-I'm sorry, pa!" Jack pleaded helplessly, stumbling backward, trying desperately to get away from the intimidating man who claimed to be his father. It was a useless attempt, however, as Pa only knelt down and yanked him up off the floor by his hair. "I didn't mean it, pa! I w-was just playing, pa!" A deafening screech filled the air with tension and terror, and Jacks friends, as well as the guardians, could only watch as the man violently threw him to the ground and viciously attacked him, fists and all.
"I told you to behave, didn't I, you stupid little bastard!?" Pa hollered over Jack's screaming, delivering one merciless blow after another upon his little boy. "And now I come to see that what Father John's been saying is true: you're nothing but a manipulative little brat!"
"I'm sorry, pa!" Jack sobbed, attempting to cover his face but really only ended up smearing the blood from his nose all over his bruised cheeks. "I didn't mean to, I was just playin, pa! Please, no more!"
His mother, ultimately unable to contain herself in public (as the men were in charge during this period of time), immediately ran by his side, yanking Jack from his grip and clutching her to his chest. "Stop it, Abraham, for God's sake!"
"This has nothing to do with you, wench! Outta my way, 'fore I beat your saucy face in, too!"
She leaned forward and sneered. "Pray you haven't ruined your image in front of everyone in the town!"
With these words, Abraham took a moment and inspected the churchgoers surrounding him. Not too many people to see the speculation this time around, just a group of children and a few of their parents over in the corner, hastily whispering in each other's ears as their eyes constantly jolted to the bloody scene.
But he wasn't waiting at the back of the church. No, he waltzed up to the scene, and without so much looking at the woman cradling Jack, glared down at him and pointed a plump finger at him.
"Foolish boy!" he spat aggressively with a low gravelly voice, loud enough to make the already frazzled boy flinch at his harshness. "God will give you what you deserve. Nothing!"
And with that, Father John walked with Pa back to where they were previously discussing matters, acting as if nothing ever happened.
All that was left was a group of stunned guardians, a group of equally stunned children, and a bloodied Jack sobbing loudly into his mother's arms.
Sandy wasn't so sure he wanted to view the rest of the memories anymore.
So they don't really like Jack. :) the fathers, I mean. Everyone else adores him.
So of course they'll find any excuse to hurt him. Pshh, duh, you noobs.(JKJKJK) So why was he in trouble anyway? Well, it could've been the fact that Jack was playing with a bible. Yes, I did my research. You don't screw around in colonial churches, man. O.o It also could've been the fact that his father was intoxicated, or saw him doll-swordfighting, or saw him trying to listen to their conversation, or they just really don't like him. So yeah.
You're going to hate Father John. Jus' saying.
Tissues for the next couple of chapters cost a dollar each. :)
The reviews… we are getting closer, my friends… :D (Dodges javelins and hides under bed) bwahaha
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