I JUST WANNA SHOUT OUT TO ALL THOSE PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN WAITING LONG FOR INSPIRATION TO STRIKE THIS AUTHOR AND POST ANOTHER CHAPTER, THANK YOU FOR WAITING (if there are any, sorry for the depressing comment.. ;( anyways, without further adieu, CHAPTER 7! :)

Chapter 7: An Unexpected Shift

**Jamie's POV**

The first thing that came to my senses was the sharp smell of mint and freshly fallen snow. The hand was pale and firm, I could feel the pent-up tension in that simple touch. I forced my breathing to slow as I slowly, but deliberately, removed the hand closed around my mouth. I continued to maintain the steady breathing pattern—breathe in… breathe out… —as I let go of Jack's slightly trembling appendage.

"Hello, Jack." I said, coolly… calmly. I thought I sounded too calm for my beating heart and racing thoughts. For the first few weeks of my stay here in this— fine, I'll say it: shithole — in this shithole, I would hope and dream how Jack would come and get me out of here, how he would help me prove to myself that I am not crazy. Sometimes, I would imagine Jack would come in when the guards would open my door to let me out, and then he would surprise me outside and fly me out of here. Or he would surprise me one day in my room.

Ah, now there was an idea: If I ever pondered about Jack waiting for me in my room, how would I react? Would I be angry and shut him out, or would I act like: Oh, Jack, I knew you would come!

Crap, I still cringe at the idea of me acting like such a girl.

But I felt none of these things. In fact, I don't feel anything at all. I feel nothing. I'm numb. The calmness I'm showing to the Guardian of Fun is something I've developed over my years here. When I'm not indulging in my passion for writing or whining about my lack of a muse, I'm calm… or at least, I am on the outside. My mind is a different story.

"Can't you come in? I can't really open the door for you." I said, pointing to the bolted door and the bars on the window. Jack's hand was still in mid-air, still clutching the air where my hand currently held his. The thoughts and emotion I read through his touch was unnerving. I could still feel the thick of it in the palm of my hand, like I could really feel Jack's drive and his amazement at finding me here when I touched him. God, I sound so cliché.

He nodded, withdrawing his arm from the barred window and stepped back. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He's composing himself. I realized. Then he stepped through the door.

Now, I knew that if I was younger, I would be standing here, jaw agape like a guppy. But now, I only raised an eyebrow at Jack's new power. The door behind him shone white as ice and frost encased it, then it shattered.

My eyes widened. I turned to look at Jack, my eyes probably holding an accusing glare, when he snapped his fingers. The shards that were scattered on the floor rose and flew around the hole where the metal door once stood. They swirled, and then they flew into place, latching onto the air like some bizarre jigsaw puzzle. Once they were in place, the Guardian raised his palm. Another flash of light, and the cracks and ridges were gone, leaving the door whole, if not totally encased in ice. Jack waved his hand and the ice tore itself from the door and flew to his outstretched palm, where compressed to form a small ball.

"Huh" I said, my voice sounded unimpressed, concealing the excitement that began to flow through my veins at Jack's new abilities. Maybe he really did come to bust me out.

'Stop, he's only here to check up on you. Don't get your hopes up.' I scolded myself. I sighed.

Jack was still staring at me; his eyes were going over my face, my body, heck, I'm even sure he's analyzing my clothes.

"What's wrong, Jack? Don't you recognize me anymore?" I tried to keep the bitter note out of my voice. Thankfully, my statement betrayed no emotion, even though my heart was beginning to sizzle in the anger and betrayal. Crap, where did all this come from? I wish I was still feeling numb.

He flinched. I tilted my head sideways, innocently. Though, in my mind I was cheering at his discomfort. When did I become the sadist?

"Jamie…" He whispered.

I stiffened, and I prayed the winter spirit didn't notice. I immediately motioned for him to sit on the bed; I walked over and calmly straightened the sheets and fluffed the pillows (as if I'm going to be the ones using them). Jack looked around the small room, taking in the cream walls that were slightly cracking, the window above the desk where my laptop sat, where the sequel within remained, awaiting completion. I could tell he was wondering about the lack of personal stuff. I snorted, It's an asylum what did you expect?

I patted the bed; Jack paused in his circles and sat on the bed, almost obediently. I folded the blankets slowly, all the while deliberately following the creases from the fabric slowly smoothen out. The Guardian continued his staring; I don't know if I should be flattered or annoyed.

A few, long minutes of silence; I put down the perfectly folded blanket and sat down on the desk chair. Jack's gaze followed my movement.

"What do you want, Jack Frost?" I asked, deliberately emphasizing his full name. Jack's eyes widened. Why wouldn't it? I never used his full name since the day I first saw him as a spirit.

"Jamie, I—I've come to take you home." He said, his voice was hesitant, unsure. I laughed, loud and harsh.

"But Jack," I said, allowing some anger to seep into my voice. "I am home."

**Jack's POV**

I am in deep shit.

I really expected Jamie to freak out and turn around. I really expected him to be shocked but smile and feel his want to hug me, and then I would burst through the door, hug him, and get him out of this place.

I did not expect the cold shoulder.

Well, not exactly the cold shoulder… but he sounded calm, too calm. What happened to the boy whose emotions were out on his face like an open book? What happened to the boy whose eyes were the literal windows to his soul; his pure, innocent soul?

But as I stared into his eyes, those all too calm, blank eyes, I thought I could literally hear him scream in my ear: You tainted it.

I immediately scolded myself, that's not possible, right?

"Can't you come in? I can't really open the door for you." The man in front of me said, but it sounded muffled. I nodded, not really listening, only obeying. I was still too shocked, to amazed, at what happened to the young boy I left all those years ago.

The young boy you left with a broken heart and a shattered mind.

I tried to calm myself down, taking a deep breath. I didn't want another fail at phasing like that time with the pile of wood. I stepped through.

Immediately, the cold feeling of air pushed through me and I suppressed a whimper as I stepped inside Jamie's cell. I glanced at his face, expecting an outburst of excitement for the new trick I could do, there was none.

The door shattered behind me.

Jamie's calm expression changed, albeit different from what I wanted; he was shocked, and his eyes pierced daggers at me. I inwardly flinched; I immediately reformed the door and peeled he ice off it, turning it into a little ball on the palm of my hand.

"Huh" was all he said. I couldn't stop staring at him. His face; the strong jaw, the tousled chocolate locks, those eyes that shone with life. Although, the darkness remained, and as I continued to study them, they seemed to shrink back, as if Jamie wanted to purposely hide it from me. I gaped, since when did Jamie become so… distant couldn't even describe it. "Broken"? Maybe…

I looked at him; the freckles, the tan, the muscled arms, even the clothes on his back; a plain white t-shirt and sweatpants. It felt like seeing a "Before and After" commercial, the drastic changes and all that. Only this time, there's no magic, only heartbreak.

"What's wrong, Jack? Don't you recognize me anymore?" Jamie said. The statement was innocent enough, but I never imagined Jamie ever saying that. It sounded too… scary. I flinched.

Jamie seemed surprise by my reaction. He tilted his head sideways, an innocent gesture. Or is it?

"Jamie…" I whispered. I wanted to say everything there and then. Everything; the asylum, Jamie's sadness… it's all too much. I can't believe this is my entire fault.

He flinched, but he tried to cover it up by motioning over to the messy bed. He walked over to it calmly, almost robotic. Even strides and collected air replaced the excited shuffles and the energetic bursts that I was usually met with whenever I came to visit. He began to flatten the sheets and fluff the pillow. Notice the lack of –s? I looked around his room—or cell, whatever—and wondered about the bare walls. Usually, Jamie would post his work, or at least the titles of the stuff. Why is it bare?

I heard a muffled pat and I saw Jamie silently asking me to sit. I complied, not wanting to aggravate the collected air that Jamie mustered. I felt so out of place. I'm the Guardian of Fun. I'm not used to this quiet, calm crap. That's Sandy's job.

I watched him work with deliberate slowness on the blanket; watched his long, delicate fingers press and fold on the plain fabric, smoothing out the wrinkles. I watched his face; the defined muscles, the tan that was apparent but not overdone, the slight splatter of freckles. I watched his eyes; how they moved slowly and calculatingly, the brown hues were devoid of any passion and energy that I was used to seeing on the boy. I was afraid.

He put down the perfectly folded sheet of fabric on the foot of his bed. I followed him, watching his even steps and robotic motions. It was unnerving to see how distant Jamie had become. He sat down on the chair in front of me, except he didn't sag on the rest like he used to, he sat straight up, his back touching the rest as a place to lean on, not sag on. It saddened me to see how much had changed, as well.

"What do you want, Jack Frost?" he asked, his collected, tenor voice rang through the room. Except it wasn't vibrant and bubbling, it was cold and indifferent. But that wasn't what made my eyes widen. He called me by my full name. He never did that, at least never again after the day he first believed in me. I hesitated.

"Jamie, I—I've come to take you home." I said; my voice was slightly unsure. Suddenly, Jamie laughed. It was cold and harsh. It rang through the silent room.

"But Jack," he said, his voice slowly hardened, revealing the hot anger that has been there all this time, "I am home."

Feel free to critique, i promise to be more mature.. O:)