Where Do We Go From Here||Responsibility and Fun Don't Always Mix


Chapter Summary: Jack is responsible... to a degree. But when North doesn't believe him, and forces him to do his job the way the Big Man wants it to be done, Bad Things happen, the same kind of Bad Things that usually happen around Jack when he feels strong emotions, sometimes from his power, sometimes Wind-North, and even Mother Nature on occasion. Once in a rare while, it's all three. Can the Workshop sustain such damage and still remain standing?

Chapter Rating: T because Jack gets a little... upset... and he is a teenager, you know, just a childlike-at-heart one. He is still reasonably knowledgeable about teenager-y stuff like modern cuss words, which he uses in this (d*mn used a few times, f* word used once).

Note: North thinks of Jack as a winter spirit. Jack is the Spirit of Winter. There is a distinction between those two, and between those and sprites, in my head. It is important and is not accidental. Everything I write (excluding typos) is written that way for a reason (ex: random capital letters. They are supposed to be like that).


Disclaimer: I do not own RotG, now stfu and stop making me cry *curses through sobs*


"Okay. Route planning. First can be Canada, they've been due for a storm for a little while now, I haven't been there personally in a few days. Then I'll go southeast to the East Coast, New York hasn't gotten a major snowstorm since before Hurricane Sandy, that's actually a really bad name for it especially since Sandy's not a destructive force of nature like me, oh, whoops, off topic again! Well, the Big Apple is definitely getting some snow... Okay, more than some, make that a blizzard's-worth..." Jack trailed off, mumbling and counting on his fingers as he sat in front of one of those maps they use in schools, but North-sized, so it was massive.

North had plopped the kid down at a desk in front of the map and hadn't allowed him to move from the seat. Jack glanced down at his chair. It was understandable, really, he probably would have been out the window the moment North left the room.

The shackle was total overkill though.

The chair was too heavy for his toothpick frame to lift and with his ankle chained to it, he could only swing one foot at almost the speed of light to release the nervous energy that built up the more he stayed still. Usually, he'd have a much smaller map held out in front of him as he flew across Russia or Canada, bringing snowfall with him, even though he didn't need to look at the paper anymore; he memorized countries as quickly as they came to power and tucked them and all their facts safely away in the back of his head once they deteriorated, forgotten by all but his subconscious. He just liked the feel of having a purpose, of having a set destination in mind for once, so he planned his route vaguely with plenty of wiggle-room. Sometimes, that was nice. Other times though, it was the most freaking annoying thing in the history of Ever.

Jack groaned as another maniac trail of slurred weather-speech fell from his lips without his consent, bringing his head down on the desk and yelling in pain when he used enough force to bruise. "Ow," he moaned, sitting up and putting a hand to his forehead as an instant icepack, even though the word 'icepack' had no meaning to him, since he was the same frozen temperature as one. "Okay, the sooner I get done planning, the sooner I can get out of this hell-hole!" He took another look at the map and yelled in frustration again, gripping his hair tightly in his fists and pulling, making grotesque faces simultaneously. "GOD DAMMIT! Did it have to be every goddamn city and town? Even I don't know that!" Which was why he used a map of countries and states, so he could stake out general areas and let the dumb weathermen do the rest. It wasn't as if he'd give one town six feet of snow and leave another barely a mile over with barely a dusting! He was more responsible than that!

Jack paused mid-internal-rant. Wait, I'm responsible?

There was the sound of glass breaking and the thousands of sickening colored thumbtacks that had been the cause of the damage sailed out of the hole accompanied by glass shards, and an ear-splitting scream of horror and shock rang through the barren tundra that was the North Pole. "I'M BEING RESPONSIBLE!"


North winced at the scream and turned the volume of his Russian classical music up, tuning the winter spirit's fury out in favor of carving a toy prototype out of ice. He hummed off-key to the music to drown out the boy's exclamations of frustration.


Jack growled again as he stared at the map with menace, utter loathing in his eyes. "I-" he grabbed a corner and ripped a wide strip out of it diagonally. "Fucking-" He threw all the thumbtacks on the floor in his rage, leaving the map satisfactorily barren. "HATE-" He tore the paper into tiny pieces furiously, like a possessed paper-shredder. "MAPS!" Wind-North grabbed at the map remnants and threw them out the window; unfortunately for Jack's feet, the thumbtacks were left behind. He strode on top of them like a madman, dragging the heavy metal chair behind him as he paced, leaving horrible gouges in the beautiful wooden floors and making both yeti and elves alike cringe from the sound. A few thumbtacks were left imbedded into his heels and arches, most of them in the foreign colors 'red' and 'green' that were indistinguishable to the boy. Jack frosted over the windows in anger and sat on the horrible wicked evil chair to remove the pins, the surface chilling to subzero temperatures, colder than dry ice to anyone but the Spirit of Winter. Even winter spirits and sprites wouldn't be able to touch it without getting immediate frostbite leading to incurable gangrene on contact.

Note: don't piss off Jack Frost unless you A) are Mother Nature or someone he cares for deeply or can't survive without like the Spirit of Summer, or B) have a death wish.

It seemed North had a death wish.

Wind tried to lift him as she had done previously, but he cried out again when the chair dangled from his ankle. Something would break if he tried to fly away with it attached, and he didn't have his lockpick wires with him. He had retired them when he'd become a Guardian, in the hopes that he wouldn't need them anymore.

Jack decided that was a very stupid idea and he was never taking them off his person ever again. Heck, he would keep bobby pins in his hair if it was absolutely necessary-!

Wait! He was at the Bennett house earlier today, and Sophie had made him play dress up for a tea party. (He could have said no, but only some kind of heartless monster could say no to that face, especially when she pulled the puppy-eyes.) The little girl had absolutely insisted on doing his hair to go with the costume he was forced into, and she had tried and failed to braid his short hair, eventually just jamming every bobby pin she had available into the mess, all aimed directly at his scalp (at least, that's how it felt). Jamie had snickered until Sophie dragged him into it too. It was so humiliating, and his only consolation was that at least the Guardians hadn't seen him 'all dolled up'.

But the point was that Sohie had tried to take out all the doodads, but Jack had been dragged off before she had declared it done. Maybe there was a clip in there still. Jack reached his arms up and started scavenging for something, anything that could help him. It wasn't the most dignified thing he'd ever done, but all dignity was forgotten when he boiled everything down and his wild side took over.

I need to get Out. Wind is Out, I don't want her In too. Wind stay Out. Out, I need to get Out, I can't be stuck Here. Let me Out.

Mother, please help me.


Seraphina shuddered. "Not now, Jack, I don't have time for this. I can't do all your work for you." The shivers didn't go away and Mother Nature's frown intensified, cocking her head to the side to better grasp at the unpleasant sensation within her. It was cold, freezing cold, and there was enormous pressure behind it, as if Jack Frost was suppressing his power.

Further exploration revealed that it wasn't Jack holding his power back, it was something else holding him back, or making him hold it back. Why, she didn't know, but something was wrong with her baby and he asked her for help, and god damn her if she didn't go to him at once.

Mother Nature's usual green dress shimmered, changed to blue, and then was covered by an ice breastplate and greaves for her arms and legs. Her breath fogged up the air and her eyes flashed to glowing blue, her long black hair turning white at the roots and spreading down like a disease. Her bronze skin lost all its rich color and went ghastly white. In seconds, she was ready for battle and suited to helping her little ребенок.

Because no one, and I mean no one, messes with one of Nature's own and gets away unscathed.

Or alive.


Definitions
Russian: ребенок(rebenok)- baby


A/N:
Hi there! I hope you like this. There will be another part!
I've been trying to leave little clues about other arcs in each one, so have fun connecting the next few!
This is at least the 4th or 5th arc/twoshot I have planned so far, but I don't want to publish the others until I finish them completely, for plot's sake.
Aaaand my killer headache is becoming worse by the second, only music and working on arcs is distracting me from the throbbing.
This is CL, signing off! *mock salute* *poofs away*