Somebody That We Used To Know

by Mystichawk

For several years, neither Pitch Black nor his nightmares have been seen by anyone. Jack is now a true Guardian and all is right with the world. All is right, that is, until Jack Frost gets attacked by a wild Nightmare and is severely injured. Who's controlling this creature, and who is the mysterious stranger who appears out of nowhere, offering to help Jack? Read me to find out!

3. In the Cold of the Night

Hola ladies and gents! this is the third chapter of my new story, Somebody that we used to know, otherwise known as STWUTK, and I hope you enjoy it.

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Kozmotis Pitchner paced in his study. What to do? What to do?

He should call the local orphanages and see if there was a boy missing that fit the child in the bed across the room's description.

"No, that won't do." He told himself. "The hospital staff didn't see him, and the Paramedic didn't see him, so why should anyone else see him?"

He paused a moment to cast a glance at the boy. He was tall, thin as a javelin, and that unruly mop of white hair suggested that he was probably an albino. But his eyes. . . they'd been blue, not red or pink. Bright, cobalt blue.

Kozmotis sighed and resumed his pacing. Was the boy going to live? If not, where was he going to bury him if no one could see him?

Practical-minded. That was Kozmotis Pitchner. Graduate of Oxford and the Teaching Academy in London, he prided himself on his extensive knowledge and decision-making abilities. Kozmotis had always been top in classes as a child and had even progressed to high-school material while still in sixth grade. When he'd graduated collage, he'd wasted no time getting a job as a teacher in the local elementary school, where he'd been a huge success. Children loved him and, more importantly, he loved children.

Most Teachers just told their students to sit down and do their work, but Kozmotis knew children needed room to grow, so he decided on a different approach. Namely, letting the children do whatever they wanted for to hour at the beginning of the day, then going back to the regular schedule. It made him very popular among the children and it also got good results with the school boards. The children, when not forced to sit at a desk all day, had a much better attitude towards tests and the like and as such got much higher scores that the rest of the classes.

After three years as a elementary-school teacher, Kozmotis decided to try and teach middle school English. That proved to be a bit more of a challenge, since middle school is so much different that elementary school and most middle-schoolers didn't care about anything more than their friends and their screens, but in the end he succeeded. His class became the top in the school and two more years of teaching quickly followed.

At the end of his middle school career, Kozmotis took a year break off teaching to meet someone and have a family. He did. His wife was named Sara and, within a year, they were married and living happily in his home-town of Burgess, Pennsylvania. Then came his daughter, his beautiful Seraphina. She was his pride and joy and he doted in his daughter more than anything in the world.

Now, ten years later, his daughter was going to fifth grade in the fall and, to prove how proud he was of her, Kozmotis had paid for her and her mother to go to London. His wife had begged him to come along, but Kozmotis said that he wanted to have a few weeks rest to recuperate from the year and to maybe even finish his book. His wife had agreed reluctantly and now it was just him. For the first time in decades, he could relax by himself. The spring term was over and his job was null and void until the end of Summer.

Or, at least, that was what he'd been wishing for. After years and years of work and sweat, didn't he deserve a rest?

"Apparently not." He muttered, glancing again at the boy in the bed.

Why? Why did it have to be him?

Kozmotis sat down heavily in the wooden chair beside the boy's bed and sighed. All he'd been doing was taking a leisurely walk. He hadn't been doing anything to hurt anyone or anything like that, so why, in the name of all that was holy, did the boy pick him?

"He didn't pick me." Kozmotis muttered ruefully. "I chose to stop that blasted horse. Ah!" his hand pressed hard against the place where the horse had kicked him. "The exact same place where Onyx kicked me all those years ago." he said, laughing quietly. "What are the odds?"

Onyx had been a particularly unruly horse that he'd been given when chaperoning his daughter's girl scout troupe on a horse ranch. The horse had tried to buck him, but Kozmotis had held on firmly, using an unknown reservoir of knowledge to issue commands to the beast. The horse had reluctantly agreed, but when they were on the trail and he thought the beast was calm, the horse reared his head back and grabbed onto the reins, yanking them from his hand and throwing him into a tree.

Then the beast had, regardless of the handlers trying to grab the reins, proceeded to kick Kozmotis painfully in the stomach, exactly where the horse had kicked him last night.

"Maybe it was the same horse," Kozmotis mused. Then he shook his head. "No. that one was much wilder."

The boy moaned and moved slightly, then he moaned again and was still. Moving obviously hurt him.

"I wonder where he's from." Kozmotis said aloud, staring down at the boy's face. It was milk-white and beaded with sweat. He reached for the bowl of cold water beside him and, after wringing the water out of the towel and then soaking it again with fresh, clean water, he laid the cloth across the boy's forehead. The boy jerked and tried to move his head away form the cloth, but Kozmotis held his head in place with a firm hand.

"I'm sorry, but this'll help." he said, running the cloth down the boy's cheek. "Trust me."

The boy murmured something in response. It sounded like snow.

"Boy, snow is not going to help you." Kozmotis said firmly. "You've got hypothermia, a fever- which shouldn't be possible at the same time, I might add, and several bruises, cuts, and the broken arm and rib. I've set the arm, but my medical studies class at Oxford didn't give me any tips on rib-setting."

The boy moaned again.

"Listen boy, I know it hurts but it's the only thing I can do right now!" Kozmotis said irritably. Oh, why couldn't he be on vacation with his wife and little girl? Why?!

Kozmotis took the bowl of water, which was getting murky, away and filled it up with fresh, clean water. The he pulled down the boy's covers and dabbed at the dried blood around his rib. The boy winced and tried to curl up to escape the cold cloth, but Kozmotis held him down with a strong arm while he dabbed with the other.

"Now you need to hold still!" Kozmotis commanded. "I'm almost done."

The boy grunted. Well, so he was awake. That was something.

"Boy, can you understand me?"

"Aaaaaack." the boy moaned.

"Back?" Kozmotis said, frowning. "You want me to get back?"

"AAAAAACK!"

Kozmotis sighed. "I'm not going to get back, boy. I need to help you or else I will never forgive-"

"AAAAAAACK! J-ACK J-AAAACK!" the boy said. He was obviously getting frustrated now and Kozmotis had to hold him down again.

"Jack? Oh, so you're going back to that, eh?" Kozmotis sighed. Right before he'd fallen asleep, Kozmotis had asked the boy for his name and the boy had given him Jack Frost, the name of a popular winter spirit character from various movies and books. Kozmotis had dismissed this as fatigue taking over and delirium. "I always thought Jack Frost was a snowman with a corn cob pipe and and a top hat."

The boy muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Stereotypes." And Kozmotis laughed.

"Alright," he said. "If that's what you want to go with, Jack Frost."

The boy didn't respond.

"So, Jack, where do you live?" Kozmotis asked. He needed to get some information about the boy if he intended on helping him further. Jack Frost was obviously not his real name he needed that to find his family. If he was an orphan, then his name would surely be in records somewhere.

'Jack' didn't answer.

"Are your parents dead?"

Jack nodded slowly, obviously trying to keep movement to a minimum.

Good that meant orphanages weren't out. "Which orphanage were you sent to?"

Jack didn't respond.

"Jack, I need to know. There's no shame in being an orphan." He was trying to sound kindly and he thought he was succeeding, but the boy refused to answer.

"Fine. Have it your way." Kozmotis said, standing up and leaving the boy. "If you don't tell me than I have plenty of influence around this town. I'll get the truth, somehow or another."

The boy was stubborn. He had to admit that. Kozmotis turned away and headed back down the hall to his living room, mentally listing all the surrounding orphanages and homes for runaways that might have information on this boy. There were three within city limits that he knee of. He would need to call in a few favors, but he would get it done. During his years teaching elementary school, Kozmotis had also been assigned the job of counselor for his class and six of the others. Students came to see him at recess and lunch and talk to him about their problems. Schoolwork, home, things like that.

He'd helped them in any way he could and that was that. Until one day. . .

It started with one girl, a seven-year-old named Lacy who got beat by her father. Kozmotis helped her file an abuse charge and she and her mother were put on disability and the man was sent to jail. Since then, ten or sometimes twenty kids showed up at his office with problems and he helped quite a lot of them. Some had physically abusive parents, some who's parents were neglectful or did drugs. Some who just couldn't cope with the stress of their home lives and school work.

There was one memorable occasion where a girl, Clara, came to his office one day and, after being asked to sit and tell him what was wrong broke down into a storm of crying and begging for help. He'd waited for her to stop crying, given her a few tissues and then slowly, bit by bit, got her to tell him what had happened. According to Clara, her mother had over-dosed on heroine and the girl wanted to stay in school, so she hadn't told anyone about it.

Kozmotis had reassured her that everything was going to be alright, called the police and informed them of her mother's death. They took the body away and he'd been given custody of Clara, since apparently she didn't have any living kin. Then he had called an orphanage and asked to speak to the person in charge of adoptions. They had talked and the woman, who's name was Luna and had since become one of his best friends, had arranged for an adoption request to be put through.

A few days later, a family had called and asked if they could meet Clara. They met, she loved them, and the adoption had been put through with out any delay. He still talked to the girl sometimes, who called him her uncle instead of her teacher. She was almost fifteen now and wanted to be a counselor, like him. Helping that girl had earned him a medal for services to youths, which they presented it to him in City Hall and when they did, all the children he had helped came and sang Amazing Grace to him, with Clara happily l leading. He'd been so proud that day. The memory always brought tears to his eyes.

Focus! Kozmotis told himself, pulling out of his memories and brushing away the tear that was leaking down his face. I need to find that boy's home!

He called every orphanage he could find in his phone book, in the city and several miles outside the limits, but no one had ever heard of a boy with white hair who called himself Jack Frost. Kozmotis sighed and picked up the phone again. Luna was his last chance, but when she'd picked up the phone and he'd told her about Jack, she didn't had any good news.

"I'm sorry Koz, but he's not in our system." Luna said after checking and rechecking about half a dozen times. "Have you called Tracy?"

Kozmotis ran a hand through his thick, black hair. "Yes, I've called Tracy. She can't seem to find him either! It's like the boy's a ghost!"

"Maybe he gave you the wrong name." Luna said thoughtfully. "Kids do that when they don't want to be found."

Kozmotis nodded. "I've thought about that. Jack Frost is obviously a nick-name and he won't tell me his real name, so that's a dead end."

"What if you give me a description?" Luna said gently. She could tell Kozmotis was stressed about this boy. "I might be able to track him down in the missing sections of the papers."

"Yes, that's a good idea. OK." Kozmotis paused, thinking. "He has white hair, not bleached. At least, I don't think it is. Or dyed. I think he might be an albino, but his eyes are bright blue. Almost cobalt or even sapphire. He's about five ten. He looks about fourteen and he's really really pale. Like, flour pale."

"OK, let's see if I got it. Black hair, red eyes, ten five, fourteen and dark-skinned."

Kozmotis growled. "I don't have time for your jokes today, Luna!" he said angrily.

"Yeesh, sorry Koz." Luna said. "White hair, blue eyes, five ten, fourteen and pale. That right?"

"Yes."

There was the sound of typing on the other end and Luna's apologetic voice came through the speaker. "I'm sorry Koz, but we don't have anyone matching that description here. And before you ask, yes, I checked the missing persons. Nothing there about a white-haired boy or someone named Jack Frost."

Kozmotis sighed. "Alright. Thank you." He was about to put down the phone and head back to the room to check on the boy when Luna's voice came through the speaker again.

"Hey, Koz." she said.

"What?" Kozmotis said, rubbing his face tiredly.

"How many places have you talked to?"

"All of them." he replied sourly. "And they all told me the same thing you did. I'm sorry Mr. Pitchner," he said, mimicking the voice of the snobby receptionist for the orphanage closest to his house. "But we don't have anyone by that name or fitting that description on our books. Good day. Bah!"

"Koz, listen." Luna said evenly. "I know this may sound crazy, but have you maybe considered that the boy might be a ghost?"

Kozmotis frowned. "Luna, there are no such things as ghosts."

"I know, I know. Just hear me out." Luna said. "You know how orphanages are always short of money and space?"

Kozmotis nodded. "Yes."

"And how they always seem to have more kids that can't or won't be adopted because of their behavior?"

He nodded again. "Yes, but-"

"Well, there is a protocol for that. Most orphanages never use it on the grounds that it's inhumane and cruel, but once, every so often you see it."

"What?" Kozmotis asked. He was getting frustrated now, and he didn't like being the last person to know things.

Lune took a deep breath.

"For heaven's sake Luna, just tell me!"

"It's called the ghost protocol." she said finally. Her voice was sad and slightly distant. "When a child does something really bad, like try to kill someone or torture a pet, the orphanage has to act. So, rather that send that child to juvenile hall, they chose the ghost protocol, which erases their existence They have no family. No past. No name. They are thrown out into the streets and, if they turn up in custody of someone like your boy has now, the police and the paramedics and everyone else who can help him pretends that he doesn't exist."

Kozmotis nodded slowly. "Yes, that explains why the hospital people turned me away when I went into the emergency room with the boy. That explains the paramedic! That explains everything!" then he stopped, horrified at what that might mean. "But then-"

"I could be wrong." Luna said quickly, following his train of thought. "But if the police and paramedics are ignoring him, then it's almost a certainty that the boy is a ghost."

Kozmotis nodded slowly. He understood. There might be a murdered in his house. But he didn't care. "What can I do?" he asked.

"I-"

"Luna, he's just a boy. Whatever he did, I can't have that ruin his whole life."

Luna sighed. "I don't know Koz. I've never seen a ghost-child bounce back. Heck, I've never seen a ghost-child, period! I just learned about them from Al, our custodian, a few years back. He told me all this and I'm fairly sure I'm not supposed to be telling you."

Kozmotis sighed. Why did it have to be him? Was it like, some sort of cosmic joke? To have the troubles of kids dumped upon him for years and then, when he was finally free, to dump the biggest problem of them all on him?

No, he thought. They aren't problems. I want to help them. I need to help him! I need to. . .

"I don't know what I need to do." he whispered to himself.

"I know Koz. I don't know either." and then Luna hung up.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Several hours later, Kozmotis was still on the phone. Now he was talking to his wife and daughter. They would be coming home in a week and he didn't want the boy to come as a shock to his wife.

"Koz, you have to help him!" Sara said. Kozmotis smiled. She was using her 'lawyer voice'. This was her voice she used in court and it brooked no argument.

"I know I have to help him Sara, I just don't know how!"

"Why not ask the police about this Ghost protocol thing? Maybe they can shed some light on the subject." his wife suggested.

Kozmotis sighed. "I already did that."

"And?" his wife prompted.

"And," he said through gritted teeth. "They acknowledge that there is such a thing as the ghost protocol, so Luna wasn't lying-"

"Kozmotis! You thought she was lying?" his wife was shocked. "You've known her longer than you've known me!"

"Frankly Sara, I don't know what to believe!" he said, getting up from his chair where he'd been seated nearly two hours. "There is no record of this boy, anywhere. He might be from another state or even another continent! I don't know!"

"Honey, calm down." his wife said. "I know this is hard for you, but you can do it. If anyone can help this boy-" she paused. "What did he say his name was?"

Kozmotis laughed. "Jack Frost. Can you believe that?"

"Jack Frost? Like the spirit of winter?" his wife asked, puzzled.

"Yeah. And to make things worse the boy was out in nearly ten degrees in a blue hoodie and thins pants that cut off around the calves. He wasn't even wearing any shoes, Sara! It's a miracle he didn't get frostbite."

His wife "Hmmm"ed thoughtfully and he sat back down in his chair again.

"Do you want him to stay, Sara?" he finally asked. If Sara didn't then that was that. The boy would have to be turned over to the Orphanage. Luna would take care of him though. He knew she would, even if he was a murderer. She would try to help him.

"Of course!" his wife said, sounding shocked. "It's not as if we can send him out into the street!"

Kozmotis nodded. That was that then. "Since the paramedics won't help him, I'm going to have to treat his injuries." he said.

His wife made an angry noise. "Hmph. I don't care if he is supposed to not exist. You just don't ignore a child like that! Who knows what kind of life this boy has had!"

Kozmotis nodded. "I agree fully my dear." What was he going to do?

"Do you know how to treat his wounds?"

"Only the minor scrapes, bruises and cuts. The broken arm was easy to set but I still have no idea how to fix that rib."

"Honey, we're coming home." his wife said. "No, I don't want to hear any arguments. You need us and we're not going on some pleasure cruise while you stay at home and have to deal with a dying boy."

Kozmotis sighed. "You had another week."

"We'll take two next time." Sara said firmly.

Kozmotis ran his hand through his hair again. He didn't want his Seraphina to see the boy. If he were a killer, that might put his family at risk. Then again, the boy didn't look like one. He looked like a scared little boy.

"Alright." he finally said. "But wait until tomorrow. The flight should bring you in the day after that. Let Seraphina enjoy at least some of her trip."

"Oh, she's enjoying it plenty." Sara said, sounding happy for the first time since he'd called. "We saw the London bridge, Big Ben, and when we got back to our hotel the flag was up, so the queen was at home."

Kozmotis smiled, remembering when he was a boy, passing Buckingham palace and he would point up at the flag whenever it was up, which meant the queen was home.

"And how is my little girl?" he asked.

"Why don't you tell her yourself? She's been waiting patiently like a good girl this whole time."

Kozmotis smiled and waited as the cell was passed from mother to daughter.

"Hi dad!" Seraphina said.

"Hello sweetheart." Kozmotis said, making an conscious effort to sound happy. "Are you having a nice time in London?"

"Oh yes!" she said. "The bookstores here are amazing and mum finally got me a decent copy of The Secret Garden!"

"That's wonderful dear."

"Yeah, and I got a new book called Endymion Spring. It's about a mute boy in Germany and an American boy in Oxford and how their times co-exist and stuff. It's awesome!"

"That sounds very interesting." Kozmotis said. "Do you think you'd like me to read it to you when you get back?"

"Of course dad! You have the best voice ever! Better then Orpheus or Mo or even Meggie!" His daughter said, listing off characters from one of her favorite books, Inkheart. The characters in the book used their magical voices to read things out of books, so that was a major compliment.

"Thank you sweety." he said.

"Oh, oh, and guess what?"

"What?"

"While we were in the bookshop, the owner gave me some hard candy and my tooth finally came out!"

Kozmotis smiled. Before she'd left, Seraphina had been complaining about her loose tooth and how she didn't want it to come out too soon.

"Don't forget to put it under your pillow tonight." he said.

"Uh uh." she said. "Nope! I'm gonna take it with me and put it under my pillow at home, so the Tooth Fairy doesn't get mixed up where I live."

Kozmotis smiled. "That's a very good idea sweety. Alright. We'll hide it together. Just be sure to wrap it up in a tissue and stick it somewhere it won't fall away."

"OK dad."

"I'm gonna hang up now, alright? I want you to tell your mother I love her and that Jack is going to be alright."

"Jack?" Seraphina asked. He could hear the puzzlement in her voice. Then she gasped and said, "You mean Jack Frost?"

Kozmotis frowned. She was probably talking about the nose-nipping Jack Frost. The one from the song, but it never hurt to clarify. "Yes."

"Oh! Can you tell him and Jamie I said hi?"

Kozmotis frowned again. "Jamie?"

"Jamie Bennett. He and Pippa and Monty and Cupcake introduced me to Jack Frost a year ago! He made snowmen with us and then he started a snowball fight and gave us magical ammo! It was awesome!"

Kozmotis nodded thoughtfully. Inside his mind, his brain was reeling. This was a whole new development! Jamie Bennett went to school with Seraphina. She was in the same grade as him and he remembered hearing his name a few times, along with those others. Cupcake, Pippa, Monty. . . and two others. Seraphina always referred to them as the twins, so he didn't know their real names, but this Jamie Bennett was something different. Maybe he knew who this 'Jack Frost' was.

"Honey," he said, just to make sure he was right. "Did Jack Frost have white hair?"

"Uh huh! He had snow-white hair, a blue hoodie, and a big stick that he called a cane with a hook on the end. He can fly too! He took Jamie on a wild sled ride a few months ago and Jamie said that he lost a tooth when a sofa hit him!" Seraphina babbled happily.

Kozmotis blinked. "A sofa?"

"Yeah!" she chirped. "Jamie said that Jack caused a bunch of ice on the road and that made the cars slide, but he made ramps and kept Jamie out of traffic by using his magical ice. One of the cars was a big truck with furniture inside and the back of the truck opened, making all the furniture spill out into the road. Jamie landed in a pile of snow, but then a sofa came out of nowhere and rammed into him and he lost his right front tooth!"

Kozmotis nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Can you give me Jamie Bennett's address?"

Seraphina dutifully recited the Bennett household's address and then, after a moment's pause asked, "Why do you need Jamie's address dad?"

"There's something I want to talk to him about." Kozmotis replied as he finished jotting down the words with a pen on his hand. There wasn't a pad of paper handy.

"About Jack?"

"Yes."

"Oh. OK. Tell him and Jack I said hi."

Kozmotis nodded. He was miles away. "I will sweety." He promised. Then he hung up.

Ten minutes later, Kozmotis had his hat on one hand and his keys in the other. If this boy, this Jamie, had any information about Jack then he needed to see him, and soon. The boy was obviously in pain and he was burning up as well. His temperature was about the normal range, and yet he was perspiring like he was running a hundred and fifty.

"Jack!" Kozmotis said, shaking the boy. "Jack, listen to me!"

The boy mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over to face him. His face was still pale and he was slick with sweat. His eyes were still closed.

"Jack, if that is your name, you need to listen." Kozmotis said again. "Do you know a boy named Jamie Bennett?"

The name jerked some recognition with Jack and he tried to speak, but the pain was too much and he started to convulse.

"OK, OK," Kozmotis said, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder and easing him down. "Easy. Easy. I'm going to Jamie Bennett's house to get some answers about you, since you can't or won't give them to me yourself."

Jack's eyes shot open and he yelled something that sounded like, "NO!" but most of his mouth was pressed firmly into the pillow, so it sounded like "NNNNNNN!"

Kozmotis sighed. "Jack, I must know who you are in order to help you. If this Jamie Bennett knows you, then I am going to see him. You need help, and I can't give it to you without knowing who you are and whither you have a good heart."

Jack made several angry noises and tried to move, but Kozmotis held him still. "Why can't you just listen to me?!" he hissed, putting a bit more pressure than was necessary on Jack's shoulder, making him moan in pain. "I'm trying to help you and I can't do that if you knock yourself out with all this movement!"

Jack's thrashing subsided and his eyes slowly closed to slits. Kozmotis sighed. He could see the anger and frustration in those eyes and it distressed him, but he needed to go to save this boy's life. He put a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder and said, "Please don't try to get up or run. You'll die from blood loss. I'll be back shortly."

Kozmotis turned away and, shrugging on the thick, black trench coat he kept for emergency-cold weather, headed out into the night.