Merry Christmas, have an interlude. :)

6) The Rebirth: Claire Maguire - Are You Ready? (Intro)

Before I die,
I smile like I'm jokin'.
But I'm still alive,
Wide-eyed and chokin'.

- Hedley 'Mexico'

He was floating. Flying. Something. Except, it wasn't right. He didn't really feel like him; he didn't really feel at all actually, but apparently he was a Him, and not an It; not a thing but a person. Person was somewhat of an abstract concept for him, but he knew he was not air, although he was in it. He wasn't sure how he knew he was in the air then, but something about the way he was bobbing, drifting, was familiar. He'd done this before, only not. Not exactly like this, at least. It was hot, hotter than he was used to, and he was aimless, directionless, but that was okay, he was in no rush, because time didn't mean anything when you were nothing but a Him with barely a consciousness.

Oh, it was cooler now. Not cold like he'd like, but that was fine, he wasn't even sure why he knew how to like stuff, anyways. He wasn't sure what it said that he had a preference, when he wasn't entirely sure what he was, or if he was in fact anything at all. It was cooler though, which made him happier, even though he didn't know what happier actually meant. It was cooler and he was moving faster now, with more purpose. Purpose, purpose, he'd had one of those once, hadn't he? Something important, something he was trying to accomplish. Something nudged at him then, like a wisp of thought as gentle as a cloud; the brush of feathers on his cheek, cool rock against his neck. The memory of fur and bright laughter. He knew these things, didn't he? No, not things, people, like him. People that felt, had presence, memories. He had memories too, but no presence. That was wrong, wasn't it? He was supposed to have presence. Hands and feet and arms and legs and a body with which to do things. Things like talk, and walk...

OH! He'd been walking, hadn't he? With the thing-with-feathers and the-thing-that-was-rock, and he'd been looking for the-thing-with-fur-that-laughed.

Bunny. The fur-thing was called Bunny, and he laughed like moonlight on snow, and his smile pulled stars from the sky.

Oh MiM, BUNNY.

Jack remembered. Bunny and Baby and Noddwyn and the fire elemental, and he was dead, wasn't he? This was death, but it couldn't be, because if it was Bunny would be here, his sister would be here, and they weren't, so Jack wasn't dead, he refused it. Jack wished he had a mouth, so he could scream his refusal to the heavens. Jack wished he had hands and arms, so he could strike out at the nothingness surrounding him in his anger. He wished he had legs and feet and a body so he could find his friends, find the Road, and keep going. He wasn't done yet, he couldn't be. He had to find his most precious of people, and fix his Bunny and then go home.

This wasn't death, it couldn't be, and Jack would not be fooled. The feeling of absolute certainty coalesced inside of him, giving him weight and substance once again. The sensation became physical, shooting through Jack right down to his brand-new fingertips and toes. He could feel himself settle into place around him, his physical presence reasserting itself into the world again, drawing back together like one long, loud inhalation.

Eyes suddenly wide open to the impossibly blue sky, soft grass beneath his back, Jack arched, mouth opening, his hoarse scream of triumph echoing into the clear, crisp air.

Guided by his memories and the love he held for his friends, Jack Frost had returned.

"Here, Jack." Tooth carefully passed over the slim golden box, Jack's mischievously smiling human face painted on one end in careful detail. "Are you sure you're ready? We can wait a bit longer, if you'd like." Tooth's voice was a little anxious, but Jack ignored her anxiety; instead cradling the box lovingly, staring at the face that had once been him.

"No Tooth, I've waited long enough. Baby Tooth showed me a bit, back in Antarctica, but I need the rest. I need to know my mother, my father. I need more that about my sister than just the shape of her face. I need her name, and mine too. I need to know where I come from, who I was before I became myself." Jack's face was uncharacteristically shy and solemn as he spoke, sincerity shining through with every word. With a gentle smile, Tooth nodded, resting one hand on his head.

"If you're sure then Jack, I'll walk you through what your teeth have to offer." Smiling again reassuringly, Tooth closed her eyes, bidding Jack to do the same. "Memories are incredible things, Jack. They are a large part of who we are, whether human or spirit. They can shape us, define us, encourage us or constrict us. Whatever you see here today, remember that they only have as much power over you as you allow them, okay?" Jack felt the grin tug his lips up, nodding once under Tooth's small hand. She smiled back with a quicksilver twist of her lips, and then fell silent and slack-faced with concentration. There, under her expert guidance the world of Jack's past opened up to him, like fragile flower in bloom for the first time.

"I keep going back
as if I'm looking for something I have lost
back to the motherland, sisterland, fatherland
back to the beacon, the breast
the smell and taste of the breeze,
and the singing of the rain."
― Heather Nova