Soooooo super-sorry for the long delay, you guys. In all senses of the word, I got swamped with school things - tests, papers, more tests and papers, and lab writeups and OMG. I love being a science major, but the formal lab reports are a pain...
ANYWAY, getting back on schedule as much as I can, here, ie. one new chapter every week or so. I have an exam this Friday to study for this week, and then of course there'll be ALL the midterms coming up, not to mention a project for my embryology class that I'll be working on through October and...
Well, the short version is, updates are probably not going to be every weekend. BUT, like I've said, this is pretty much all written (although I've been working on adding things to the later part of the story and now I've gone and written myself into a corner with that, so, uh, we'll see how that goes). I'll do my best! I haven't forgotten about you!
Thank you so much again for the reviews, favorites, follows, and generally lurking around, and above all for your patience! Please enjoy! 3
Night came with the snowfall's end. Well over a foot of snow covered the ground, and it was sure to freeze overnight. Violet's elementary school had already called a second snow day. Violet herself glanced repeatedly out the window for a sign of Jack Frost, to her parents' amusement. "Mom, can I have some extra dessert to take to Jack?" she asked.
Nice try, Helen thought. "Why don't you share yours, Violet? That would mean a lot more to him." Violet thought about it for a moment. There wasn't a way out of this one.
"Okay," she murmured. But that meant Dash would have more dessert than either of them and that didn't seem very fair even if she was being nice. She choked down her vegetables because she wanted to leave the table as soon as possible to wait for Jack. Then Mom fixed a small plate of the leftovers (no vegetables) and bade Violet wait inside until she saw him – it wouldn't be very fun to sit outside in the cold.
"I'll bring your dessert when he comes," she assured.
So Violet waited.
And she waited.
The plate of leftovers next to her grew cold. She could heat it up if Jack wanted her to. After several long, hopeful minutes, Violet grew restless. She wished she could tell time; she liked on TV when characters checked their wristwatches when someone else was running late. In Violet's mind, Jack was taking much too long. But Violet was an extraordinarily patient child when it came to certain things, and it just so happened this was one of those things she could be patient about.
Mom and Daddy cleared the table. Dash had his dessert, and then he started watching TV. Jack had still not come. Violet looked woefully at the plate in front of her, thinking of the dessert she wanted. Once more she scanned the sky out the window as best she could. Mom had turned on the porch light. No sign of Jack in the yard. For a moment Violet thought he might have become invisible to her, too, but that couldn't be right. He said-
"Is Jack still not here yet?" Mom asked, settling next to Violet on the couch. Biting her lip, Violet shrugged. Sensing her daughter's disappointment, Helen offered, "Maybe he needed to make snow for someone, last-minute. I'm sure he'll be here soon." And meanwhile she worried that Violet would have her own imaginary friend treat her this way.
This troubled Violet – Jack had said she was Very Special. It seemed wrong that he would put her aside to make snow for someone else who might be Very Special. That made her feel jealous, and jealousy made her feel sick. "I think he can't tell time," she argued, projecting her own inability to make herself feel better. Mom agreed that was a much better reason.
"Do you want your dessert now?" It was getting late; Violet would have a tummyache if it was put off much later. Violet almost shook her head – it would be nice to share it with Jack once he got there – but her love of ice cream won out and she nodded. She would try very hard to leave some for him.
"Wait..." she said when Mom got up, and she rose onto her knees, pressing palms and nose to the glass. A quick dim flicker of white – like Jack's hair! It settled in the middle of the back yard and as it approached the porch light's glow it resolved down into the shape of Jack Frost.
Jack spotted Violet and waved. Grinning, Violet waved back. "He's here, Mom!" Violet cheered excitedly, sliding off the couch and running around to the sliding back door. She pulled it open. "Jack!" she called, breathless in her rush of excitement, "You came back!"
Swinging his staff over his shoulder, Jack grinned back at her and winked. "Of course I did." He skipped up onto the porch and squatted on the mat in front of her. She reached out the door and he carefully took her delicate hand in his; the iciness of his fingers was even more alarming when she could also feel how warm her house was, and Violet wanted to jerk her hand away, but she was too mesmerized by his presence.
"Violet," Mom's voice came from underwater, across a field, so far away, "You're letting the cold in. Why don't you invite Jack inside?" And Jack looked through the window at Helen, who had only the fondest (and yet so sad) eyes for her daughter. Violet followed his gaze, registered her mother's request, and blushed.
"Would you like to come in, Jack?" she asked, gently tugging his hand toward the inside. His smile faltered and she was afraid he'd say "no," but then his face lit up again and he straightened.
"Sure. Thank you." He stepped his bare white feet over the threshold and then spotted the plate of pork roast held sort of in his direction.
"We saved some dinner for you," Helen said, and Jack nearly jumped, wide-eyed gaze at Violet's mother. But her eyes listed at least a foot to his left, closer to the door that Violet was now pushing closed. Despite himself his shoulders slumped. Of course Violet said something to her mother, and of course to her he was just an imaginary friend. Well, he thought consolingly, watching how Violet eagerly requested the ice cream now and please could they eat in her room, she promised they wouldn't spill; grown-ups had never been his area, anyway. What mattered was Violet.
"Do you want this heated up?" Mom asked, holding the dinner plate out again, a good twenty degrees off from Jack. Violet looked embarrassed for her mother's inability to see him. And somehow, that made the situation funny.
"It's okay. I don't need to eat," he explained. Violet relayed this information and soon after disappearing into the kitchen, Mom came back with a bowl of vanilla ice cream topped with chocolate syrup.
"Be very careful," she cautioned, and then, holding the bowl with both hands, Violet led Jack into her room. She closed the door, and settled on the carpeted floor. Jack took in her room properly now – he could only see so much through the blinds on her window, last night. Various stuffed animals crowded the dresser and lined a small bookshelf, but her favorite seemed to be the purplish-grey plush rabbit at her pillow. The fur on the ears was worn from being carried around by them, and the baby-blue bow around its neck had seen better days. But it was obviously well-loved and cared for: from the looks of it, the cross-stitched nose had been redone with at least two different threads. Lines of stitches crossed the legs and body in random places, indicating minor tears that Mom had darned up over the years.
Without invitation Jack sat cross-legged, staff across his lap, in front of Violet, who leaned against a big pillow at the base of her trundle bed. Her bed covers were lavender, posters of ponies already up on the walls. Every bit a little girl's room. He smiled at it.
"Would you like some?" Violet asked, holding the bowl of ice cream out to him. Typically, Jack didn't actually feel any hunger, and hardly ever thought of food. But when he did feel like eating food, he knew by now that he liked sweets. Ice cream with chocolate syrup suited him just fine. Nodding, Jack carefully transferred the bowl into his hands and took a good-sized spoonful of the dessert.
Oh yeah. This was the good stuff. He almost took another bite, but he'd seen how little Violet had been given in the first place. He passed the bowl back. "Thank you," he said once the cool creaminess had slipped down his throat, licking the sweet chocolate taste off his lips. Violet smiled.
"You're welcome." She worked on finishing the ice cream, watching him the entire time with those inquisitive blue eyes. Jack wished he didn't mind her unwavering gaze, but he was so unused to being seen that he quickly felt uncomfortable. He tried to distract himself by reading the titles of the books she had. Most of them were expected for a child her age just learning to read – Dr. Seuss, Dick and Jane, Angus, several Little Golden Books. But then, a Nancy Drew popped out – was Mom going through it with her, or was Violet on chapter books already? He supposed it was possible; she seemed like a bright kid, very discerning...
"I saw your snowman," Jack finally broke the silence. Beaming, he turned back to Violet's absorbed gaze. "I've never seen one that perfect – how did you get his head and body so round?" Indeed, not one flake had been out of place. Violet drew her empty bowl into her chest and fidgeted. She looked to the closed door, where it occurred now to Jack that her mother might be listening in. And it dawned on him for the second time that day. "You know I won't tell. Is it another power that you have?"
Looking relieved that she didn't have to admit it herself, Violet relaxed and nodded, placing the bowl down in front of her and lifting her hands up with the palms out. She screwed up her face for a second and a globe of purplish-blue energy snapped into the air between them. Jack jumped, falling back on a hand, watching the streams of energy flow across the sphere. "What is that?" he asked, in awe. As quickly as it appeared, it crackled out of existence. Violet's features smoothed again.
"Force field," she said, "I used them to make the snowman." Like using a pail to make sandcastles; that wasn't anything to feel sorry for.
"That's great," Jack praised, a smile stretching his mouth, and the little girl's dark eyes brightened. "Very clever."
"Really? You don't think I'm weird?"
"Why would I?" Jack asked, surprised, before he could think. But then he did think...
Jack had seen a lot of weirdness in his time. A six-year-old girl who could turn invisible and project force fields was hardly the worst of it. And just look at him. The proper perspective, though, was this little girl was forbidden by law from showing those qualities that made her so "weird" – it had already been hard for child Supers to fit in before that law went into effect. Now all that came of it was child Supers being made to feel like something was wrong with them for having powers. And nothing was wrong with them at all – they were simply different.
Jack had seen it all before, played out too many times and often ending in too much grief. Would that he could protect Violet – and all those other children – from that.
"I don't know," Violet responded, bringing his attention back to her. "I thought my powers were bad. Mom says not to use them. Daddy says they make me special. But they both say it wouldn't be good if other kids found out about them."
"...But do other kids think you're weird, anyway?" Jack dared to press. She wouldn't have mentioned it otherwise. And when Violet suddenly looked about to cry he knew – with a horrible pang of guilt – that he'd hit it right on the head.
"They call me a freak because I don't want to play with them," she confirmed, big tears already spilling down her face. "And I'm scared to play with them because I don't want to accidentally use my powers because that would get me in big trouble and we'd have to move again and-" she cut herself off like she'd said too much again. Jack leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Violet," he said in a soft voice, gently squeezing her shoulder, and she calmed a little, big wet eyes trained on his. "You're not a freak. I promise. You're a little different, but different is okay. Different is great. Do you understand?"
Not looking like she did, she nodded anyway. She would understand some day, anyway, if she even remembered. But his words nevertheless seemed to comfort her; her tears ceased, and then they were both silent. Jack looked around the room again. "How long can you stay?"
"As long as I want. Hey," he said, leaning and reaching toward the book shelf, "Would you like me to read a story to you? How does that sound?" As if it could be no other way, Violet eagerly reached for the plush rabbit on her bed and hugged it before responding "Yes, please." And laughing at the very idea that he, Jack Frost, was actually going to read a bedtime story to the first child to see and hear him, Jack swept up the air onto Violet's bed, patting the space next to him. Without hesitating, Violet clambered up onto the mattress, but instead of landing next to him she actually settled onto his lap.
Thank the Man in the Moon or whoever cared that Jack didn't have a heart attack right there!
He disguised the long tail end of his shock by shifting to a more comfortable position against the wall, and then he opened the Nancy Drew book he'd picked to the first page. He started to read aloud and Violet settled against his chest, head along his shoulder. Afterward, he would marvel that she didn't seem bothered by how cold he was. Aside from her occasional question about a big word, she was completely silent, and very still.
Eventually her breaths grew long and her little body slackened into him, and Jack realized she was sound asleep, a pleasantly warm weight on his legs, head pillowed in the crook of his neck. Lips curling up into a gentle smile, he put the book down and dared to wrap his arms around her sleeping form in a quick sort of hug. Quickly growing self-conscious – what if she woke up? – he changed the embrace to setting her down to dream the night away, and he tucked the covers around her just like he'd watched mothers do over the years. He made sure the rabbit was securely in her arms before picking up his staff again to leave. It felt awkward to just leave her there without properly saying goodbye. Should he leave a sign that he would return? Rubbing the back of his neck, he cast around the room for... anything. There was a drawing pad on the dresser, and that would do. Picking up the closest marker, he scrawled a message for Violet to find the next morning. Yes, that would do just fine.
A tendril of gold sand gently lit the room and Jack took that as his cue to leave. Before he left, though, he was able to see it form a corporeal image above Violet's closed eyes, and she smiled in her sleep. The image was small, but unmistakable: Jack Frost, and a little girl with long hair, flying side by side.
Unable to contain the warm feeling welling up inside of him, Jack slipped out the door the instant Mom opened it to check in on her daughter. Another moment of distraction saw him out the sliding back door, and he whipped up into the tree with the swing in it. Settling on the branch from where he'd first watched Violet wish for snow, Jack realized everything the past twenty-four hours had brought him.
Floored by it, he peered through the tree branches above to the glow of the Moon, partly obscured by lingering clouds. Heart quickening as he finally dared to believe in all of it, Jack uttered a small word of thanks. "I'm sorry I doubted you."