And North was right. Manny had not gone back. Nothing doing. Absolute zero.

Jack lapsed into deep depression. It felt so foreign to him- he was always the cheerful, lighthearted one when he had been alive. When he had been alive. That recurring thought sent him spiraling downward. He didn't go to see Highland or Elsie, and rarely spent his time near Emma. He stayed in his trees, or flew so fast the wind stung his face. So isolated. So… pointless.

He couldn't spend the rest of his existence like this.

He wouldn't spend the rest of his existence like this.

Jack fled. He flew away, just away, to nowhere in particular. As a result, he ended up in Russia. It was now the middle of March, so it had been getting uncomfortably warm in his home town of Burgess Pennsylvania. Hanging out in Moscow felt better both physically and emotionally.

And so he lived. He flew, he played pranks on the local kids, he even laughed. And he forgot about his friends and family. Why worry about them? They were as good as gone. He spent months without a single thought of his past. And he liked it.