Chapter 1
As a general rule, Jack loved snow, always had. That was, actually, kind of an understatement; Jack was completely in love with snow, enamored. Snow was, up until very recently, quite elusive and extremely beautiful. He'd grown up thinking that just maybe snowflakes were cold crystals of magic falling from the sky.
It hardly ever snowed where he was from; he waited all year, every year, for it to be cold enough. Even then it didn't snow everyday like he wanted it to. Where Jack lived they would get, if they were lucky, about 8 inches of snow a year. It was a novelty and he cherished every second of it. He always watched it through a high window if he were able, because he wanted the best view and he didn't appreciate it as much from the ground looking up. It was still stunning, of course, but less so.
He had always cherished the snow, for as long as he could remember, and he never had much of a reason except that it was so beautiful that it made his heart ache. But after that day (probably his favorite day ever), he really loved snow.
It had snowed on that day, so long ago. At least, to Jack, it seemed like it was long ago, like several lifetimes ago. There were times when he honestly couldn't mentally grasp that he was only seventeen years old and not three hundred years old instead.
He had been, very much like he was right now, looking through a window at the snow fall-except that time he'd been enormously fascinated with it-and he'd noticed, walking through the snow and into the iron gate, what was possibly the biggest man he had ever seen in his short little 7 year old life. This man was so large that it was intimidating, his forearms were massive, Jack could see them through his red fur coat, and would not have been surprised to see swords hidden under there, or a colossal battle axe. He was tall (at least six foot one) with large black boots that were probably steel-toed. Even his long white beard and big mustache looked like they could handle themselves in a fight. Maybe there were swords hidden under there, too.
To Jack, he looked like some sort of great warrior and in that instant, he knew this man was capable of anything he wanted to do, anything at all, because it was clear just how powerful he was; and Jack dared to hope that he was going to get saved by this warrior. He wanted to be rescued so desperately that sometimes he couldn't breathe; the weight of it heavy on his lungs. It was the first time in a long while that he actually thought that maybe someone, anyone, would see something enough in him that they would want to take him home. It felt like forever that he'd been invisible to everybody and, quite frankly, he was getting damned tired of no one looking at him.
Jack had, like most others, hoped a lot in the beginning. He had come from a loving home and he was desperate to get back to something like that. It wasn't that he didn't miss his mother (because he missed her so much that for a while he thought it would kill him not to see her anymore), and it wasn't him trying to replace her (because she was so absolutely perfect and one of a kind that there was no replacing her), but he had been very loved and he felt like a piece of himself was missing without that level of affection. Remembering how it had been was the only thing that kept him reasonably sane with those long days and nights that he spent by himself, with no one there who really understood him.
He tried to be polite, charming, and handsome. He was older than what most wanted and there wasn't anything that could be done about that. And he had nothing that was special enough for them to overlook his age, he'd figure out eventually. There was something about smaller children that appealed more to the couples that came into the orphanage, excuse Jack, child-care-facility (like that wasn't a load of total crap if he'd ever heard one).
It was true there was a stigma that went along with referring to the children as orphans, but deliberately playing with words was something Jack had never quite seen the point in. They were orphans, and he didn't think that made them any better or any worse than any other children anywhere, and surely people had to know that, right? He would discover that he was wrong. Not just about his beliefs, but himself, in general, he was just wrong. Jack wasn't sure what it was about him, but people just dismissed him and passed him over. Repeatedly.
The first time it had happen it had hurt so much that he thought maybe passing out would be a suitable alternative, just to get away from it all. They might as well have walked right through him for all the attention they didn't pay. It had been the first Sunday of the month and they were having a gathering at the orphanage (yea, that's right, orphanage). It was a cookout; Jack would smell the charcoal burning through his nightmares for years to come. They wanted to get the neighborhood together to see the children, see how lovely and in need they were; wanted to manipulate the people into donating, and maybe taking some home.
Jack wasn't even surprised at the turnout (which was reasonable), because it was at a time when he still believed in hope. People smiled at him, it was always that way (even now) because he smiled wide with his sparkling teeth and his big icy blue eyes were innocent and inviting …and then they kept walking. Every single one of them. Some were polite enough that they would ask him how he was, but they never stayed and they didn't care because they really wanted to talk to the children who were smaller and, Jack thought, cuter. He was as cute as he could make himself; he'd brushed his hair (not that it helped very much) and even wore his only tie (solid gray and striped with the same blue of his eyes).
He stood proud and smiled, telling them, 'hello my name is Jackson, and I'm quite pleased to meet you' so that they would see how polite and well behaved he was. It didn't work, even though he had practiced all night. After awhile, a year or so, he decided to simply stop trying. It didn't matter how inviting his eyes, or how wide his smile; he wasn't going to be looked at, people only seemed to ever look through him like he didn't exist, and so he stopped coming to the events; and there were lots of events: cookouts, bake sales, Christmas caroling, and more. All designed to get the children into the community so that people could see them, but no one ever saw Jack.
There was no reason for him to try anymore if they wanted younger Children, because he was only going to get older. He would, instead, isolate himself in his room, and wonder what it was about everyone else that seemed to draw people in, and how he'd managed to lose his. To be fair, he wasn't the only child who got looked over, but that didn't help anything and it didn't stop him from thinking that maybe he had done something wrong.
The warrior, as Jack would think of him for years to come, was followed by a woman that Jack thought was almost as beautiful as him own mother. She had thick long tightly coiled sand-colored hair that wasn't even half covered by her furry hat (the same red as the man's coat, although her own coat was a dark brown), even longer legs, and skin that looked like coffee with lots of cream. Jack knew that the two of them were together because the big man waited for her just inside of the gate took he took her hand as they walked on and disappeared in the direction of the building door. The way that the building was shaped, Jack couldn't actually see them walk inside, but he knew that they were there. He wished they'd come and take him.
Note from your Author: Oh, heyyyyy my name is, obviously, Mocha flavored Jelly Beans, you can just call me Mocha for short ;). I had an old S/N on here that I used to post twilight fanfiction, but after the monstrosity that was the twilight movie, I lost my muse. So now I'm back and very much in love with rise of the guardians. Feel free to PM and review and let me know what you think. I'd love to hear from you guys.
-XO