A/N : Just wanted to let you guys know that if the character/you seems a little too trusting, it's because they really want to accept Jack as a new friend. They've been alone for a long time, and are finally ready to have someone to talk to again. Just saying, that's my reasoning. Ok. Here's 9...

Chapter 9

I offered Jack a bowl full of soup, and he took it happily. We sat side by side in front of the fire, and watched the blinding flames dance across the charred wood. My eyes quickly became sore from staring so long at the heat, so I shifted my gaze to my empty , glass bowl, which sat in my lap. Jack was still slurping his soup from his own bowl. When he finished, he stood up and held out his hand towards me.

"I can take your bowl for you."

"Oh, thank you."

He walked off to the kitchen, and I heard glass and silverware clinking in the sink. Since my bowl was now gone, I was forced to study the shadows and light cast by the fire onto the floor in front of me. There was a particular shadow that caught my eye. It looked vaguely like a sillohuete of a man. At first, it looked generic. Like any man. However, it changed suddenly into a more... Wicked looking man. It managed to melt away as soon as soft footfall approached. I turned to face Jack, to tell him what I saw, but I second guessed myself. My eyes were tired, as was my mind. I needed to rest.

Instead of mentioning the elusive shadow, I yawned a little. Jack sat down beside me on the floor, his staff laid out across his knees. He passed it over to me, to my surprise. I took it after looking at him, to make sure that he wanted me to. He nodded, and I grasped the knarled wood. I felt the tiny grooves and twists that ran the length of the staff. The crook was the most interesting. It curved sharply and hooked to an end. The whole thing weighed a good deal. It was definitely sturdy, but Jack twirled it around as if it were actually made of balsa wood. It was also smooth, like stone. It would be impossible to get a splinter from it.

Jack reached out and touched the middle of the staff, held between my hands. Blue frost patterns spread from his hand as the staff came to life. It became cold, and I caught myself grinning. It was beautiful, and I could feel the pure power coming off of it. Jack was smiling at me.

"Cool, huh?"

I smiled back, and raised my eyebrows. He quickly replied.

"No pun intended."

"It is pretty awesome though."

I offered him the staff back, and he lifted it out of my lap. It faded back to brown when he set it down on the floor beside himself. I yawned involuntarily as we both heard the wind blow against the cabin.

"I can feel the storm strengthening."

I stood up with drowsy eyes, and half-stumbled to the closet under the stairs. I could feel Jack's curious gaze follow me. I opened the door, and pulled out a quilt. After going back to the living room, I threw the quilt onto the sofa.

"Um, Jack, you can sleep on here if you want. It's actually really comfy. Heck, do you even sleep?"

He laughed and walked over to the sofa.

"Um ya. Just not often. But I might as well. It's been... Weeks."

I raised my eyebrows to that. Who would have guessed.

"Well, um. Goodnight then."

"Night, _."

I shuffled my feet to the staircase and began the long climb up to my room. I left the warm light of the living room, and headed into the much darker loft. There was no moon light coming in, because of the blizzard. I felt around for the door nob, and finally grasped the cold metal. I swung the door open and stepped inside my dark room. After finding my flannel pants and a soft shirt, I took off my socks and flopped onto my cold bed. It would need to be warmed up. Which would take forever. I wiggled around, rolled on my stomach, back onto my back, moved onto my sides, until the friction created some heat. It was a little better. At least I wasn't shivering.

Thinking about shivering reminded me of my guest downstairs. How long has it been since that day at the pond? Like what, 2 days? And a night? Why was he sleeping in my house? Because you know him. But only for- 2 days, and one night. Yes, but he saved you on the ice. And from the wolf. Hasn't he earned your trust? I let those thoughts sink in. He did save me, and what did I have to fear from him? He's a good guy. He would never hurt anyone. He was my protector. Satisfied with my reasoning for now, I drifted to sleep.

The dream was memorable to say the least. I was flying, up high above the earth, among soft, golden clouds. The air was perfect, near skin temperature. There was a light breeze blowing across me, and I felt wonderful. Without warning, the dream turned into a nightmare. The clouds darkened, and the air became cold. Clouds swirled everywhere, colliding with one another. Then, I heard it. The whine of a plane engine in the distance. The motor sounded stressed as I heard it cut through the clouds. Then, a huge plane came into view. I recognized it, from my past. I knew who was in it. I knew what would happen to them. I knew that I couldn't change history. But this was a dream. I'll at least change the outcome here, in my own mind, if I couldn't do anything in reality. I willed myself forward, not having a plan of action yet. I was stuck though. It was as if someone was holding me still. I watched in horror as the wing made a sickening tearing noise. It fell away, and the plane plummeted, spiraling downwards. There was no stopping it. I wanted to turn away, to close my eyes to the event, but I couldn't. I physically couldn't. Once again, someone was holding me against my will. I was forced to witness the crash. The fire, the plowed ground. The people. They were past help. I felt my tears fall onto the crash site, just a small contribution as rain poured down with them.