Lucy's sleep schedule itself hasn't changed since gaining magic, but the strange happenings surrounding it will now add a third experience to the list. Another off-kilter dream, not unlike the one she had almost a week ago, the night before waking up with new powers.
And yet it started off so normal. She stood on a large stone in the middle of a wide turquoise river. Bright blue sky all around her with thin, soaring trees encasing the riverside, shooting up into the heavens. It was lush and misty here, and in it she did most of the "normal things" that can happen in a dream. Which is to say that everything made sense in the ways that it doesn't make any sense. Of course, she could walk across the water and of course any stone she did step on turned out to be turtle shells if she took a closer look. The wind whispered bits of words she couldn't make out in voices that seemed familiar, but she couldn't quite place. Overall, fairly par for the course.
Until she felt an odd pull from behind her eyes. The pulling of a string behind her pupils yanked her head away from the stones underneath her feet, and up straight ahead of her to a small and mysterious door.
Half the size of a regular door, looking as if it should be under a stairway or in an attic space. The sight of the small white sheet of wood sifted in and out of focus, blurry and hazy as it ripples 20 feet ahead of her. Silently calling to her from afar.
At first Lucy thinks that her eyes just aren't focused. But after blinking a few times and rubbing them through her palms, the ghost of the door doesn't clear up, it only continues to simmer in the air.
So, with more dream logic being all the reason she needs, she rather casually approaches the door; Like coming up to an innocuous item one absentmindedly left on the table.
She steps up to the mirage and crouches down, her ponytail swishing as she cocks her head from side to side, extracting no other visual information from it. It's only when she reaches out and touches the dark iron doorknob that the door snaps into focus. Skin touching metal pulls the wisps of the door frame together and it becomes solid and clear.
And there is only one thing to do when presented with a door in a dream.
Wide eyed, she cautiously turns the handle, and to her surprise the door swings inward instead of outward. She nearly has to crawl through it as she shuffles her way in and ushers herself into a place that is so familiar it circled around to being completely foreign.
She finds herself standing in a world that's entirely pink. Bright pinks and rouges for the all-encompassing sky and ground below her. The latter as shiny as glass, rippling wave patterns coming from each of her steps but maintaining its hardness. The environment was impossibly vast and reached the far corners of infinity in all directions.
And it's only broken up by the impossible number of random items that take up its air space far and wide. Clouds of objects out in the distance and a few stragglers directly in her path. White nodes of magic particles scattered in the maze floating around not only her, but the whole environment. Scattered like stars in a vast pink sky littered with trinkets.
As she walks, she immediately picks out all the things she sees and recognizes them all immediately. All things from her own life with their own memories attached: An oversized, well-worn hoodie she only wears when she's sick. A single roller skate from when she learned how to skate in a single day. Tulips beaten up old collar from when she was a very small puppy. All of these glittered in their own shades of pink, reflecting the tiny specs of light around them.
But in this vast sea of personal mementos, she was not alone. She was just about to reach out and touch a particular snow globe in the air when she heard it. The faint sounds of ghostly whispers and murmurs echo from a far-off place that she couldn't see. Every direction she turned the voice didn't get any louder or quieter. It just hums somewhere around her, loud enough for her to distinguish it as a single voice but not quite clear enough to hear what it says. It's under a thick layer of audible snow, muffling it out of clarity.
And when she tried straining her ears some more in some westward direction, she suddenly felt something land on her head. Definitely not solid. Something…liquid?
The man's whisper continued as another drop fell directly on her forehead. She didn't pay much attention to the tingling feeling the drip left on her skin when looking upwards for its origin. She was all too perplexed by the pair of skeletal hands facing their palms down at her high up in the air. Firmly and deeply pressed into a surface that was invisible to her, breaking the illusion of a limitless sky.
A sickening white glow emanates from around the hands as they try to press further into the unseen surface. Lucy watches as the "ceiling" gives way like rubber and gives the nameless hands more allowance.
The surface almost seems to boil around the outline of the bones. Tiny bubbles form and pop in rapid succession, sending little droplets of the stuff careening onto Lucy below. A bigger drop falls on her cheek, and this one has more of a kick than the last.
She hisses and recoils at the hot sensation on her skin, like melted wax. As the hands press further and further into the surface the more bubbles form, the more pop, and more liquid falls on the girl.
And of course, the hotter and hotter it gets. She suddenly finds herself in a sprinkle of acid rain.
She lets out shout after surprised shout as beads of hot oil splash onto her open skin, trying to corrode away the flesh. She jumps with every white-hot drip of mysterious simmering liquid and yells louder with the widespread damage she's taking. She doesn't think at the moment to move somewhere else; the downpour is coming down with a flow so heavy it makes it hard for her to concentrate on anything else. The pain feels a little more real than for something in a dream, just a little too life-like for dream logic to explain. Too close for comfort to say for certain if it was a dream at all.
She dares to lift her hands above her eyebrows to try and get a glimpse at what exactly this is, what any of this could be about. Beyond the skeletal hands she could almost make out the sound of someone else's noises. Warped and beyond the surface of the sky. He sounds like he's in as much pain as her.
She strained through squinted eyes to try and get a clearer picture when another drop inevitably lands on her open cornea.
Through the searing heat she could swear she could hear the sizzling sound of her eye's moisture disappearing and smell the odor of burning flesh.
She screams out in a way fit for horror of the silver screen as the liquid tried eating away at one of her most vulnerable organs.
The onslaught assault proved to be more than she could handle.
"AHHHHH!"
Lucy startled herself awake in the middle of a stride, the tail end of the scream escaping as she was ripped into consciousness.
Her bare feet wobbled on the cold tile with the sudden intrusion of blinding lights all around her. She swayed just a bit, instinctively putting a hand to her unafflicted eye, before regaining her posture. She kept herself half blind, patting down the area until she felt no signs of damage. No pain and no gut-wrenching burning smells. She felt a wave of reassurance wash over her when she realized she was perfectly okay.
But the reassurance was quickly replaced with a sharp, cold shiver as she looked around and saw where she was. Because it definitely wasn't her room, or even her own home.
With staff in hand, still in her pajamas, she stood in the dead center of the Continental Bypass. Much farther down the main hallway, away from her home entrance, than she felt comfortable with.
She stood up straighter at the revelation, taking in the building as if it was a foreign place all over again. Catching the eyes of the few magical stragglers that witnessed her sudden jolt. She suddenly felt the heat of embarrassment flood her cheeks at the concept of just how out of sorts she was. That combined with the cold sweat she was still shaking off proved to make her feel like a fish out of water.
A lump threatened to form in her throat as she spared cautious looks to the rest of the dwindled nighttime crowd of the place. She reasoned that everyone had seen her calmly walk from her home all the way out here and then abruptly yelp and stumble for no reason. So, thank god there weren't many who saw her little outburst.
And just as she finished gathering her wits, that was when the headache started setting in.
Her own presence here was made more uncomfortable by a clamping pressure around her skull. She winced as she held her head with her only free hand. She momentarily shut her eyes and tensed, trying to both compartmentalize the sudden pain and trying to will it out of her body.
The offensive intrusion of pain and waking up in the middle of the night made her realize just how tired she still is. Her shoulders slumped and she sighed in defeat. The wind suddenly knocked out of her, she felt as though she hadn't slept at all.
Confused beyond belief, embarrassed with herself and drained without warning, she turned on her bare heels to go back home. She held her forehead and casted an errant glance to the staff in the other hand as she showed herself out.
Her eyelids felt too heavy, and her head too drilled into to try and fathom some kind of explanation other than "It's probably some magical bullshit I'm gonna have to learn to deal with at some point."
'Whatever. This sounds like a problem for tomorrow. Note to self: invest in a lock for my bedroom door, I guess. Maybe I am more stressed than I thought…"
Sleep. A proper amount of non-dreaming, non-sleepwalking sleep will set her straight.
And more Tylenol. A lot more Tylenol this time.
Lucy managed to more comfortably sleep the rest of the night but found it more difficult to pull herself out of bed the next morning. The throbbing of her head followed her around through her routine and into the afternoon. Even with more painkillers than last time, the headache never truly disappeared. Sure, the edge was taken off, but it was still there throughout the day. She thought it was weird that she couldn't manage to sleep it off. And even weirder that the sleepwalking has come back and somehow gotten worse than last time.
But somehow, she manages to stitch together a cohesive persona that will get her by for the day.
She tried busying herself with any number of things that she would usually do. Tried giving the Moon's Tome a better look through, shot many failed baskets with crumpled up college pamphlets, even tried summoning the calming effect of Animal Crossing.
None of it kept her mind occupied for long. Not as long as she would've liked at any rate. The visceral, skin burrowing feeling of the dream lingers, much like the migraine.
When asked about it in passing by Neil in the hallway, Lucy was forced to admit that she did sleepwalk again last night (omitting how far she had gotten into the bypass) and would make it a point to talk to Sandman about it at some point.
Which was a promise she genuinely intended to make good on after Christmas had passed. She thought about returning to the pole again and reasoned that some quality time with the family should come first. Maybe even help, if this is all because of some underlying stress after all. It would do her some good.
She sat in her desk chair facing the mirror, with more painkillers working through her system, putting her hair up in its usual scrunchie.
'Maybe this really is just...stress that I haven't seen yet?' she thought. 'Maybe Jack's whole thing yesterday turned me all around.'
Which brought her to the more important topic at hand. Another thing she's tried not to think about for the majority of the day. Twiddling her thumbs watching the time tick by until it was late afternoon.
But now, watching her own hair get tied back, she recalls what exactly he tried to pull the previous day.
She tightens the ponytail and catches the eye of the massive ice globe across the room. After a tumultuous attempt to display it somewhere out in the living room, the thing couldn't stay on flat surfaces without rolling away. And without any kind of stand for it she was forced to put it back in her room, on the floor next to her bedside table.
She saw it staring at her and couldn't help but wonder. The little lavender snowflakes are still falling, the image of her sitting on the ground, Jack standing next to her. A sadness threatens to taint the joy she only just started to impart on its presence.
She doesn't know a lot; she doesn't even know whether giving him yet another chance will be worth the trouble. But she thinks she still wants to try. There's just something about him, something so closely simmering under the surface that made its way above water yesterday. Something he himself refuses to get closer too. Something she doesn't know the details to but can feel the pull of her magic guiding her in that direction. An innate sense of knowledge that her abilities have granted her.
'I know somethings wrong with you,' she thinks at the snow globe, at the miniature as if it were him. 'I just need you to tell me what it is...'
The tiny ice sculpture says nothing back. She fears that the real deal won't have much more to add.
But she figures that she's wasted enough of the day as it is. By now she's practically wasted the day caused by a siege of nerves. But she steals her resolve and leaves for the relocation project.
"Hmm. Sandman isn't one to stray from patterns such as this," Father Time pondered, standing outside of the door to banishment stroking his beard in thought.
"Right? It was really really weird," Lucy sighs. "My parents would freak if they found out how far I went. Which is why I'm now also adding a lock for my door to my Christmas wish list. Hopefully that should do the trick," she audibly shrinks away from the topic in thinly veiled shame. "I think I'm just...stressed is all. It's been a really eventful week."
"To say the least," he says. "I concur with your idea to talk to Sandman. His realm is on the second floor, third door down the east wing. He should be able to give some proper insight about this, he's a tired yet reasonable man. I'm sure it's nothing a little…conversation won't fix," Father Time poignantly turned his head to the awaiting doorway; to another conversation that needed to be had.
"Right. I'm just hoping there's gonna be a conversation at all," Lucy sighs. "I can talk at him all I want but that doesn't mean anything. What if he doesn't like this idea? What if he tries to fight it and won't come with?"
"He won't."
"But maybe he will."
Father Time looks at her disgruntled expression. Twisted with veins of worry and puzzled thought, that seemed to almost age her.
"There is no better option than the one you're presenting to him. It's pragmatic, serves all parties involved. He would be a fool to try and stay there above anything else."
"And you think he isn't?" she asks with a low drawl.
"No," he matter of factly replies. "I don't think he is. I think he inherited great intelligence that often goes...misplaced more than anything. I think he will find that the path being offered is in his best interest."
Lucy looks a bit surprised that Father Time didn't take the opportunity to speak ill of him. She's seen that everyone else around her does without hesitation. But he chooses not to. And just for a fleeting moment, the legend seems almost wistful about it. Something about the inheritance of intelligence...
She turns back to stare down the barrel of the gun. The icy door to exile awaits her. If the Master of All Time doesn't have anything bad to say, then maybe, just maybe, this won't be so terrible.
"Come back through when you're all set," Father Time says with a gentle pat on Lucy's shoulder. "I'll be here waiting for the both of you. I'll take down the barrier, close up shop, and we'll be on our way."
She takes a deep breath in, squaring her shoulders back, and tries walking through the elevated heartbeat and into Antarctica for, hopefully, the final time.
And when she does, the familiar truck of ice-cold air hits her square in the face as its normal greeting at this point. But it's also calmer than usual, the atmosphere doesn't seem to hold its usual malice towards her. There is no wind, no clouds, no ghosts of snow drifting in the air. It's deathly silent, plentiful in ice and empty space and nothing else, including Jack.
She scanned the immediate vicinity and couldn't see him. He knows she's here with the chime and all that, but after a moment he doesn't make an appearance. She put him in a small barrier when she left yesterday but he's somehow nowhere to be found.
Her worry spikes at the thought of him playing some other trick on her, or worse; he actually managed to escape on his own this time. She knew the latter was highly unlikely, but with him you can never put any possibility at zero.
She circled around to the only other magical doorway out here and started looking in his smaller holding cell. She's seen him go in and out of this little area only a few times. Tried asking where he was going and sneaking a peek, but Jack was very instant about his privacy. It was the only sliver of it he had left in here, he explained. So, she never did pry much more about it. Even jailbirds need private space after all.
But when Jack failed to return her summons, and to come out and have a simple dialogue, she was forced to go in after him. To step up and be the bigger person here.
She felt around the general area she remembers the entrance being in, blindly swiping the air for something to catch. The back of her hand eventually smacks against the corner of something, and she repeatedly pats down the area to feel where the invisible doorway was. She cautiously poked her head into the little room to find the man of the hour.
He was sitting flat on the floor, leaning against the small amount of wall space between the bed and the doorway. The area he occupies was frosted over, fanning out and away from him, across the floor and up the wall, threatening to climb up the ceiling. His arms are propped up on his knees, his posture slightly more outstretched from a scrunched ball. Dark circles sit under his eyes and ruddy dry skin streaks down his cheeks. He wears an unreadable expression.
Sympathy flashed across Lucy's face for a brief moment, heart poised to ache.
But this is business, and she quickly corrected herself. Solidifying into determination as she framed herself more firmly in the entryway.
"Not much to look at on the inside either, is it?" she coaxed.
Jack said nothing.
She swallowed and took a deep breath as walked into the room, setting her staff to float just outside the threshold. She made herself comfortable by sitting next to Jack, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. She looked off in the same aimless direction as he was.
"I'm gonna assume that neither of us got much sleep last night?" she hedged.
He seemed to get more uncomfortable as she spoke but continued his silence. Unnerved by her presence but refusing to acknowledge her, only serving to make the tension more unbearably awkward for the both of them.
"Look, I know you don't wanna talk right now but you're gonna have to humor me for a second," her tone is serious and soft. "I'm the one trying to be the adult here and open up a dialogue and…I just want you to work with me here." She eagerly wants him to throw her a bone, to help make this a bit easier.
But the silence pervades for another moment more, a long moment that makes her skin itch. Until Jack finally stirs.
"What are you doing back here? I thought you left."
Lucy perks up at the comment, "I did. For a minute. But I was gonna come back. I needed some space to think. We both did."
"Don't say things like that as if you know me," Jack spits back, his voice slightly hoarse. "You should've stayed gone."
"I won't patronize you if you don't patronize me. You're right, I don't know you, but I know more than you think," Lucy treads carefully.
"You don't know anything."
"I know more than you think."
"You don't know when to leave well enough alone."
"This is well enough?" she gestures to the frosted over prison cell.
"I'm not entertaining you."
"And I'm not entertaining you," she snaps back louder. Loud enough that it catches Jack off guard and silences him again.
"I don't know a lot, but I do know some things. I know you lied to me when you said you came from the Winter field because I already know that there are no seasonal fields. I know that technically you and Mother Nature are technically the closest thing to blood relatives as you can get. And I know that the situation around that is weird and impossible."
Jack picks his head up straighter, turns to her in sadness riddled with confusion, "How did you—?"
"I know that you had a big fight with her when she exiled you…and I know that neither of you got away completely unscathed. I know that you were Santa for twelve years in the timeline that didn't exist where you turned the North Pole into a theme park.
And I know...that there's something wrong."
Jack sinks further into resignation, wanting to shrink away from her the more she spoke, "Whatever could've given you that idea?"
"Try the new magic powers that tell me vague yet weirdly accurate things about people. If you would just listen, I think you need some—"
"Don't tell me what I need," he bites with a bit more venom.
"Then you tell me," she turns her head to sharpen her sentiment. "You don't have a lot of willing participants around, so you should be glad that I am here and willing to talk to you."
"Oh! Oh, I should be glad, huh? I should be glad that some stupid kid came trolloping into my peaceful existence, demanding things of me? That's what I should be grateful for?"
"Yes! You should appreciate that anyone is willing to talk to you anymore. That I'm willing to talk to you now after you literally used me!"
He pinches the bridge of his nose, "You really are as airheaded as you look because you're still not getting it a whole twenty-four hours later. I have—!"
"—You have nothing left! Yes, I get it, I heard you the first time."
"No, you don't, you mortal little thing!" he slings these innocuous words at her like slurs. "You think you've got me cornered because you know where I came from, about a sliver of past baggage, but you don't know anything. You have no idea, how many thousands of years I've wasted, how much effort I expended for it to not mean a single thing!"
"Then give me an idea! Why don't you actually talk to the only other voice here instead of driving yourself crazier."
"This can't be it! You can't..." His sentiment wavers and nearly dies in his throat. "You can't be the only one left."
He looks off again to his very intriguing spot in space, him being suddenly very tired again.
Lucy takes a breath for herself and mimics Jack's posture to sit her arms up on her knees. Her heartbeat grows heavy and thunderous.
"I guess you don't have to say anything. But don't you think I have questions that only you can answer? Was the deal…all a lie? Were you not actually interested in getting your holiday or having your seat on the council back? Why did you let me bring you back here in the first place? Why didn't you run off somewhere else?"
'What is wrong?'
The last question she asks silently to herself after throwing the more pressing inquiries at him.
And then he doesn't speak again. The whole swaths of silence she's had to endure thus far have rubbed her the wrong way. It seems like such an impossible task to get him to shut up. But she can see it in his core. She tries to look as discreetly as she can muster, knowing this is not the time to piss him off with her little trick he hates so much. Her eyes in a different hue see the internal struggle going on. Struggle being a somewhat inaccurate term.
Now his core much more closely resembles that of Mother Nature's, at least the state she's seen in it thus far. Instead of being out of control and manically buzzing in place, now it's painfully still. A few flares come off its surface here and there, but it hangs in the air as if it were a heavy burden. She can see that both spirits carry this weight in the same way. It simmers and boils with unrest but doesn't move or jerk in its usual "exuberance".
It's an uphill climb to get him to stop talking at any given moment, but now it seems like it's physically impossible for him to talk at all.
Minutes, hours or even seconds, Lucy cannot tell how long this stretch of silence has been. But she is determined to wait out. Determined not to go anywhere.
And he can't tell you why he did what he did next. Maybe because he was just…lonely. More lonely than usual, more alone than he thought. Maybe because he hasn't had someone to talk to for many more years than just the seven of banishment. Maybe, maybe maybe. He doesn't know, but he does it anyway.
…
"The deal was…a backup plan," he finally croaks, his voice nearly cracking in the process.
"Just in case I couldn't find a way to get out of here before then. I didn't know for certain that the barrier was a lunar spell, but nothing ventured..." he immediately regrets his choice of phrasing for that part.
"And I did want them. The holiday, the council seat. Even as a consolation prize if I ended up having to play my part. I did want them…until yesterday."
Lucy tries not to look hopeful in any way, not too excited or she might scare him off like a stray animal.
"You said a lot of things yesterday," she continued. "You said you were sorry too. Was that another lie?"
He swallows, "I don't know." But his core flinches, the tic telling her that it isn't the true or whole answer. In the moment when he thought he drove someone else away when he couldn't afford to. He was actually sorry.
She wonders about what else he could possibly be sorry for.
"Does…any of this have to do with Frostmas by chance?" She tries broaching the topic as delicately as she could, and yet it still feels like the most obvious and clumsy thing. "You didn't wanna talk about it a couple days ago. I can see how uncomfortable it is. How does that have to do with losing everything? I thought that was literally the whole plan?"
And it throws Jack for yet another loop. She seems to be really good at that, much to Jack's annoyance. She keeps throwing him curve balls that he can't seem to catch. He remembers her mentioning Forstmas a couple days ago, and he curses the idea of there still being any record of it floating around for her to find.
He hesitates, nursing the broken feeling in chest that's started to float to the surface at the mention. He freezes and he fights the slow descent into ease that her aura's unintentional output is putting him in. Neither of them know she's doing it, but all things come to light under the full moon. He can feel her eyes piercing the side of his skull. He can feel her presence radiating some kind of warmth from all the way over here. He tries smothering the lull of openness trying to impose itself upon him.
"I—I don't have to do this ya know! Last time I checked I never asked for you to come here and play 20 questions. I don't have to explain myself to you!"
"You're right, and you don't. But I just wanna know what's going on and why you've been acting so weird. Your core has been all kinds of out of whack since day one and I can tell it's been that way for a really long time. I just wanna know what's happening. What happened," She looks back at him with mounting anticipation. Hoping and praying with every thought that he'll take the outstretched hand and let go for just a second. One second is all she wants, all she needs to be led out of the dark.
Her previous sentiment rings in his ears again, about how she's the only one here. The only one still, right now in this moment, trying to hear him out. To listen. It's been thousands of years since anyone was interested in listening to him, in what he has to say.
The unintentional calm of Lucy's magical output starts more effectively eroding the local cold front. He can't help but feel that tiny flame from before growing larger and warmer. It's never uncomfortable, only the kind of warmth that heals one's bones after a long day.
Lucy can see the entire journey happen on his face; micro expressions flickering back and forth as he struggles to hold onto the cold. Desperately clinging to the thing that's kept him going this whole time. But eventually the snow slips right through his fingers. Melts between the cracks.
"It…I guess, it started with Frostmas," he can scarcely believe it for himself that his mouth is forming the words he's about to say. "My own holiday was the only thing I ever wanted for a long long while. But then I got it. Then everything worked out for me, and I got to be the showrunner, and I was finally in the hot seat."
He looks remorseful as he continues, but Lucy silently hangs onto his every word as if each one would be his last.
"Well…twelve years come and go and it…wasn't as glamorous of a position as I thought it would be. I had everything I ever wanted…except I didn't. When the twelve years were up and I was rather swiftly excommunicated, I didn't have anything else to do but think. I think my head is sore from doing nothing but thinking for the past seven years."
He swallowed hard before jumping into the next part. Trying to say the quiet part out loud. The words drip out of him like molasses.
"I didn't...I didn't actually want a holiday. And only yesterday did I realize that's what had happened. I gave away my political power, friends, partners for something that...didn't even work. For something I apparently never even wanted!
Why didn't I run away, you ask? Because there would've been nowhere to go. Nothing left to do. Nothing left to go back to..."
He is rather confused. Confused that he doesn't feel bad about such a personal confession. He knows, intellectually, that he wouldn't ever in his right mind tell her of all people anything like he just did. And yet he did, and he doesn't even regret it? He does feel the same welcoming warmth that also confuses him, but in such confusion, he does not find hostility. Just a strange sense of relief almost.
And Lucy is just as confused. She watched this man she barely knows let go of his troubles and she has no idea why. She knows it's all genuine but can't see why he's decided to do this rather unprompted. But she doesn't hesitate in accepting the trust he has given her in this ephemeral moment and taking it and holding onto it as if it will fly away at any second.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry you feel that way," she sighs. "Look, we don't know each other," she bluntly points out, "you're supposed to be teaching me how to use powers I never asked for, and I'm glad I can understand you better."
Suddenly snapped out of his vulnerability, Jack tries recuperating the icy facade that was now thoroughly lost. He scooches away from her, closer to the side of the bed, retreating as if he caught himself doing something he shouldn't have.
"Now I don't want-"
"You did a lot of very stupid things. Like, a lot of stupid things. Stupid things that I'm not gonna forgive you for, mostly because that's not my job," she speaks with conviction as she unfurls herself and lays her legs flat on the floor. "But it's definitely not hard to see that you're a guy with a lot of regrets and a lot of issues. And I'm supposed to be learning from you here, and regrets and issues don't make for the best learning environment."
He pauses, "So what? You came here for me to tell you all that, just so you can say you're leaving again? Why should I care if you go and find someone else to teach you?"
"Oh, that's not what's happening," she corrects. "I think what I'm about to offer will hopefully give you back some sense of normalcy. Me, Mother Nature and Father Time decided what's gonna happen next. I've come to strike a new deal, a revision."
The look he gives her is worn yet skeptical, "Oh yeah? And what's that?"
"The barrier disappearing like that has gotten some mainstream human attention. Ya know, Antarctica doing stuff Antarctica generally shouldn't be doing. So, you're gonna be put on house arrest to make sure you're not seen. You're actually moving up in the world."
Her soft smile and genuine voice gave him pause, "What?"
"Yep. You're gonna be put on house arrest, but you're also still gonna tutor me. From the comfort of your own home even," she gets more and more excited as she delivers the news. The atmosphere no longer trying to suffocate the both of them.
He shakes his head, "You're joking. I didn't know you of all people would find comfort in such sick humor."
"I'm not joking! Mother Nature and I had a talk yesterday, and I told her how much I don't like the nothingness here. Solitary confinement doesn't work on people, and it hasn't been good for you. So, she suggested house arrest. It was kinda all her idea now that I think about it."
"...Really?" he quietly asks, more so to himself than her.
"Really. And you were right about me leaving. I could've left for good. Ended this whole arrangement after your little stunt, found someone else. But I didn't. I'm taking another chance on you and sticking it through to the end. To new years. So, I'll take a huge 'Thank You' whenever you're ready."
"But why?" he asks with legitimate curiosity, "Why are you coming back after I used you?"
"Because I'm spiting you!" she found her usual level of exuberance and stood up from the floor, standing over him, the tenacity on full display on her face. "You said that you don't have anything anymore, right? Gave it all away and now you have nothing, yeah? Well right now I'm proving you wrong.
Because you have me."
Jack can only stare up at her, wider eyes, now more fully open. Everything just a bit clearer to him.
"If nothing else, you have me. Until January first you'll have me around, and you'll be hard pressed to think that a little escape plan like that is going to get rid of me so easily. Because the fact of the matter is that I know you need help."
"I don't ne—"
"Ah ah ah! Let me finish," she holds up a single finger, silencing him. "I know you need help. You need someone. And to be very honest, I still need your help. I still don't know what I'm doing, and I've made good progress with you so far. So, for just a little bit, if you wanna believe in me, I'll believe in you."
She holds out her open hand. An open palm to a prisoner in the same manner as a hug to a criminal. A small act of kindness simply because someone is in need of it. Because she refuses to pass up the opportunity to make a difference. The one person who dared to come forward after all this time.
"Humor me," she grins.
Jack's gaze goes from her to her hand then back to her again. He doesn't know how many "second chances" he's gotten in his lifetime. How many times each and every one of those he's abused to try and reach his goal. A goal that no longer holds any meaning to him. And he also doesn't know how many second chances he has left. This one, right in front of him, could very well be his last one. His last saving grace.
He pauses, still for a moment before scoffing, "Give a teenager all powerful magic...suddenly she thinks she's Mother Theresa."
She pouts at the response, "Just say yes already. You know it's the smartest choice here."
He thinks and looks at her hand as if it's a big red button he isn't supposed to push, "Do I stand to gain anything from this?"
"Long term? Maybe. Who knows. But I know for certain you won't lose anything else."
"I'm really not gonna get rid of you, aren't I?"
"Nope!"
"Not getting out of this? I have only the illusion of choice here?"
"Yep. Sorry about the misleading wording, but I've already decided. You're going home."
He looks back to her hand, studying it as if it's something out to harm him. Like it'll set his own hand on fire if he takes it. It makes his heart race just a bit faster and makes his throat a touch drier.
But eventually, through much more strain than would ever admit, painfully slow, he reaches out and takes it.
Lucy feels that his hand isn't actually cold. Surprising to her, his temperature feels like that of any other person. If not marginally clammy.
She smiles from ear to ear, "See! Step one, complete." She leans herself back as counterweight to haul him off the floor. He quickly retracts the hand once he's fully up, "Now uh, did I mention that house arrest starts, like, now?"
He cocks an eyebrow, "Now?"
"Now. I'm here to take you home, like right now."
His expression goes back to something much more usual of what she's seen so far: utter annoyance, "You really do just give me no room to breathe Miller, do you?"
"Take your time! Gather up your uh," looks around the mostly empty room, "...things. Collect your thoughts. I'll be waiting by the door, Father Time is gonna take us to the teleporter. Gonna close all this off, it's gonna be great!"
She bounds her way out of the cubicle, nabbing her staff along the way.
Jack is left alone to get himself in order. A few different facets of denial shift in and out of focus as he looks around the room. He's measured it countless times. Written out the exact dimensions of every corner and furniture piece.
But he doesn't live in this state for long before promptly gathering what little he does have left and leaving this place behind. A rather poignant "Sayonara" is all that it gets as he leaves.
From Lucy's encouragement, Jack apprehensively stepped out of the confines of Antarctica. He managed to scrounge up and dawn the somewhat abandoned waistcoat and draped the long-forgotten suit jacket over his arm. The disarrayed appearance slightly smoothed out for some kind of makeshift polish for the occasion. As much as he could manage at any rate.
The shift in local temperature was visible on his face as he adjusted. The dull ache in his shoulder came back with a vengeance from the atmospheric differences. He rolled the shoulder a bit to somehow loosen it; another thing in a very long list of stuff he was going to have to get reacquainted with.
Before anything could be said, Father Time summoned the Moon's Tome floating in the air in front of him. His one glowing eye produces a crescent shaped iris as the same shape imprinted itself onto the floor under Jack. Soon he was bound yet again in magic canceling cuffs.
Jack raised an eyebrow and deadpanned, "Really? I hardly think that all this is necessary."
"It's just a precaution. Flight risk," Father Time coldly replied, turning his back to him.
"Hardly a risk when there's nothing to run to," Jack mumbles under his breath. "And it's a bit much considering that I was so rudely disposed of from my council seat a few years back. You remember that? Or is the Alzheimer's especially bad today?"
Lucy scowled at him and gave a sharp elbow jab.
"OW!"
"Be nice! He is doing you a massive favor right now. The least you can do is to not make comments. It's not too late to put you back ya know. Is that what you want? Cause we can still do that."
"No, okay! Sorry. Geez," he grimaced.
"Let's go you two. Lucy, you take the port side, I get starboard," Father Time says, taking the lead into the bypass.
"Right! Uhh…" Lucy's initial enthusiasm was quelled with confusion, "w-which side is which?"
"You go left, I go right."
"Oh! Okay, on it!"
With both of them flanking Jack on either side they begin their trek. Looking back over her shoulder, Lucy could see a pair of technicians hovering around the entrance to banishment. A fairy with citrine wings and a fire sprite with a head full of flames, working to dismantle the doorway, returning the wall to uninterrupted brick once again.
This walk between Jack and Lucy was intrinsically different from the walk of shame they performed yesterday. Not just because of the addition of another person with them. Nor was it the difference in people's attention to them as they passed (the contrast between dread and lighthearted curiosity was palatable).
Even though she likes to believe that their little talk helped somewhat, he carried the same kind of sadness he's been holding since yesterday's little breakdown. She has to admit that he masks it well. A very learned skill he's become a master of. But not one that can escape Lucy's unpolished ability of the deeply knowing.
His whole self is dripping with a kind of weighted lostness that hangs over his shoulders. A world weariness that he can't seem to fully hide. She can't decide whether he's always had this melancholy about him or if this was a sudden onset from the catalyst comet the day before.
Whatever the case, she notes that it looks far too natural on him. As much as she's accustomed to the charming, almost boisterous persona, this shade of gray he's wearing feels like it's far too at home on him. She thinks about how the aimlessness is almost as bad as the outright despair from just moments ago.
He wears it through their silent walk and when they reach the teleporter. They part the wooden barricades and approach the massive ramp to his home.
"Yeah. That's what I thought I saw," he whispers to himself. Just a breath for himself, something no one else could hear.
While Father Time was summoning over the technicians from downstairs, Jack only stared hollowly at the empty arch. Doubt creeps in. Suddenly he doesn't know if going home would make any difference after all.
And the more Jack is silent the more concerned Lucy becomes. Anticipation for him to do something, say anything, trying to figure out what the hell is going on in his head was clawing up her throat. She doesn't know what to expect and doesn't know if sending him home will help him with any of his problems for certain. For help her with her own for that matter.
But soon enough the technicians arrive, and with assistance from Father Time the portal flickers back into life. A wave of blue light runs up the length of the arch, imbedding itself in the crystal at the very top. A waterfall of powder blue and silver poured over the empty space below, hitting the ground and swirling in its various pastels.
Jack's posture relaxes at the sight. He was now one step closer to being home. Just a bit more free than he has been in a long while. A bittersweet lurch in his core pained him. It was a haunting sight to see his front door so to speak in such an unfortunate state merely twenty-four hours ago. But here it is aglow once again and…it's an emotion he just can't quite place. He's never really been good with those.
The three imprinted their palms onto the veil and calibrated the teleporter with who is allowed through. Father Time manifested a set of skeleton keys on a ring, relinquishing them into Jack's hand.
"For the house," he stated bluntly.
Jack made a small growl almost in the back of his throat as confirmation.
Father Time returned to making the last few adjustments to the teleporter, signaling that the pair was all set to enter while he stayed back. But Jack found himself incapable of doing so for a moment.
Jack and Lucy simultaneously stared down the entrance. She looked to see just how paralyzed he was. Not nervous per se, but something a lot more complicated than that.
"Well?" she gently mustered up, "aren't you gonna show me around the place? I'm dying to know where the one and only Jack Frost lives."
Jack blinked in her direction, shaken out of his staring contest. "Huh? Oh! Oh yeah, right, of course. Let's uh, let's go then," he sounds unconvinced of himself.
Lucy didn't move any further ahead of him, keeping by his side as they made step after tortuous step through the teleporter.
On the other side what greeted them was, for both parties, extremely underwhelming. A little sad even.
"Oh, what!? You've got to be kidding me!"
Jack exclaimed upon entering the forest his plot of land is located on. It's a very dense, very dead, very un-wintered forest; having no greenery or life anywhere, while also lacking any snow whatsoever. The landscape surrounding the stone path in front of them was a collage of varying shades of beige and gray. Brown but not even in the fun autumnal kind of way. The spindly trees and scraggly bushes stand naked without their leaves, such a sight only made more off putting by the few evergreens speckled around the area as green as ever. The sky was clear but just barely blue, the air holding no more chill than a crisp fall breeze.
"A guy leaves home for seven measly years, and this is what happens!? Everything just falls apart without me huh?"
Lucy looked rather skeptical as she poked the nearest rock with the tip of her snow boot, "Hm. I was expecting something a little more…snowy."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Does this not live up to your expectations?" He widely gestures to the dead scenery, "I thought this would have surely knocked your socks off."
Lucy's mouth tightened into a wide, unimpressed line and looked directly at him, "Alright, I get it. It's in rough shape…and your place looks a bit shabby too."
Jack mirrored the same depression back at her, "Ya know, you could just leave. It is my home."
"No, you can just leave. It's my deal that you agreed to. You can go back to Antarctica anytime you want. I'll walk you back myself even."
"No! How many times are you planning on holding that over me? Because it's only been twice so far and that's already been too much," Jack starts down the path in the middle of his sentence, forcing Lucy to follow him as her only guide through alien territory.
As they walked, she noticed the temperature steadily dropping, and the tiniest flakes of snowfall starting to take shape and fall. He's silently bringing the environment back to its normal state.
"Whatever gets you to start moving man. I don't make the rules," she cranes her neck upwards to try and see through the trees. "So, you do have a house then?"
Jack's face twists incredulously, "What are you talking about? Of course I have a house. What? You think I've been sleeping outside for the past 5,000 years?"
"I don't know! As far as I know Mother Nature just has a huge tree. Father Time's place is just a big tower. How am I supposed to know how you live."
"By using logic and reason? We're damn near immortal, not animals."
Lucy coked an eyebrow, "Near? Not fully immortal?"
"Technically speaking, no. It's complicated, I'll explain that whole thing later."
"First, you're telling me you don't live out in the woods eating sticks and rocks, and NOW you're telling me you're not even immortal!? I bet your real name isn't even Jack Frost, is it? Bet it's something mad stupid like Harlod. No last name."
"Are you done? Because I'm gonna need you to stop talking for a little bit."
Lucy's good natured attempt to lighten the mood was squarely and securely ignored. It's at no surprise to her that he wouldn't be in the mood for light jabs at his character and living situation. But she still deflated at the denial she received anyway.
The silence that followed carried them the rest of the way to their destination. The same comfortable one that seems to be making its home between them more often. A silence that isn't loud but isn't deathly quiet. A little awkward maybe, but a grace period of middle ground that feels more livable.
The pair crested over a brick and wooden bridge hovering over a fairly large river. The stream remains unfrozen as it parted the tree line, twisting its way around to and past Jack's home, filling into the beginnings of a lake somewhere behind it. Only a little less than a ten-minute walk from the portal entrance, the temperature is now significantly lower, and a steady flurry is coming down, building a thin blanket of snow on the landscape around them. The house itself stood before them as they meandered up to it.
It was a large, victorian style house that seemed to make itself more and more at home in the forest clearing as the snow continued to fall. It must have been all of three stories tall, with the various floors visibly stacked on top of each other in square outcroppings. The high peaked gables trying and failing to compete with the pentagonal tower sticking out of the side.
Royal blue siding combined with the stark white dentils, spandrels, circular porch arches and other decorative appliques made the thing quite a loud sight to be very polite about it. Said decorative panels and friezes were also engraved and carved into various patterns of frost ferns and snowflake fractals.
It was a lot to take in all at once, and Lucy somewhat remembers Jack himself being this way when they first met; before he went through so much recent isolation. His home of choice makes sense to her.
When nearing closer to the front porch, Jack abruptly tosses Lucy the keys, "Think fast, Miller."
She turned just in time for the keys to hit her right in the face, "OWW!" The keys fall to the ground while his Jacket is tossed soon after, covering her face.
"You go on ahead and unlock the place. I'm gonna see about further fixing this disaster," he says, widely gesturing to the outside behind him. "It's the silver one with the diamond on it. Just go in and don't. Touch. Anything. Not a single thing you got me? I will know if your grubby human hands have touched any of my stuff!"
Lucy took the coat in the crook of her arm, and bent down to pick up the keys, "Yeah right! You've been in prison for seven years; you don't know where anything is anymore."
"I do so! The dust will be disturbed, I'll see it," the warning he gave petering off as he retraced his steps back down the path.
The wind started picking up and the snow came down harder as he walked off. The climate steadily becoming harsher, and Lucy had turned to the opposite direction to take shelter inside.
She hopped her way up the porch steps and up to the double front doors, shivering all along the way. Her hands trembled slightly as she fiddled with the ancient keyring, procuring the polished silver one, with the diamond shaped head. She took notice of the frost patterned stain glass on the front doors before unlocking them and creaking one open to step inside.
The air was stale and dry from lack of occupancy, Lucy coughing a couple times to clear her throat as she entered. Completely dark as well with all the lights off, so she felt around the immediate wall next to the door before finding the switch.
She was greeted with a high ceilinged foyer with a set of two grand staircases sweeping down from the look out of the higher floor. The crystalline chandelier showed the proper light onto the dark wooden floors and expansive white walls.
She curiously walks further inside, looking in one direction or the other to see what lies further beyond.
But only upon seeing how much space there was, and how much space she was still yet to discover that a terrible light bulb went off in her head. In a hurried realization, she quickly retraced her steps all the way back out to the front doors and out to the front of the house.
It was the beginning of a blizzard out here but she tried paying it no mind as she backed up some more to really take in the front of the house. With her arms holding her jacket closed, she curiously craned her neck to look back at the interior, and flipped between the images of the space of the inside and the outside in comparison.
"Not that I particularly care—" Jack's voice cut through the snow riddled wind, as he himself materialized from it straight behind the teen, "—but I'm really the only one that can stand this kind of weather. I very politely suggest not to stand out in it for too long."
He gingerly walked past the confused girl and made his own way to the front porch.
"Hey, by any chance is your house actually—?"
"Bigger on the inside? Yes, yes it is." He didn't even bother to turn back to answer, "Must be a funny quirk or practical illusion or something. Definitely not because it was built by magical beings or anything like that."
The duo reenter the home and shut the doors behind them. Jack breathed in the familiar air and relaxed just a bit. Much in the same way as anyone would do if they've been away from home for long enough.
But the homestead of one Jack Frost did little to provide the only human here with any warmth; feeling nearly as cold as it was outside.
Lucy was gracious enough to postpone any practical training for the day. She said it was already pretty late in the day and that he should get settled back in. He retorted with some snippy remark about her passing off the work they needed to do and required her to practice while she was gone. But ultimately took her offer anyway.
It was only when she left did he take a cursory walk around the place to make sure everything was in fact where he left it last. Just through the ground floor for now. Through the living room, past the formal dining room, a few different hallways, another smaller sitting area with the bay window.
But it wasn't until he got to the kitchen when he was hit with a spark of realization. He turned a sharp corner to an open area between the main living space and the kitchen and made fast work of raiding the in-home bar.
Hadn't even realized he's been unwillingly sober for seven whole years! He's never considered himself an alcoholic, only a reasonable amount here and there, a social drinker more often than not.
But days like these don't come often. Not a usual occurrence to be out on parole so to speak, away from solitary confinement. So, if there's any time for a drink, it's definitely now.
He sets out all the necessary instruments and ingredients and he starts working. Slowly and meticulously silent, taking his time as if the craftsmanship of this particular cocktail will be graded. He manifests a few ice cubes in his hand and drops them into the shaker; followed closely by the appropriate amounts of a choice red wine, bourbon, simple syrup and a few cherries.
The shaking that commences is the only sound that echoes through all the grand hallways. And once that stops he wills a large sphere of ice to form and drops that into the designated crystal glass. The mixture gets poured on top, expertly completed.
His shoulders dip as he sips from the glass, as if this drink were the cure to all his problems. Because for the first time in seven years, in this moment, he feels…utterly normal. At least more normal than he has in banishment.
He sits and soaks in the feeling of being able to stand and make a drink in his own home. A feeling of being able to breathe again.
A Red Moon Over Manhattan.
Lucy enters through the portal in her hallway, shaking off the shiver from Jack blizzard of a homestead. She promptly, and dramatically, falls to the ground. She lays there for a minute, face down, softly groaning into the carpeted floor. She lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding and slides the staff across the hallway as far as it'll go.
She struggles with taking off her coat while remaining on the floor, and after a few gremlin-like noises she throws said winter coat to the end of the hallway as well. She shifts to be laying on her back and scoots over to the nearest wall, throwing her heels up onto it. She decompresses with her eyes closed, facing the ceiling.
Her head starts spinning with a million and one thoughts. Hardly any of them about Jack, surprisingly enough. If this new arrangement really wasn't the answer, then it would make itself known soon enough. What's done is done on that front.
No, it's what's been happening to her sleep that's finally shoehorned its way to the forefront of her mind.
The bits and pieces from her dream from last night fade in and out of each other. The remnant feeling of her burning skin and subsequent bound of sleepwalking has her shifting uncomfortably on the carpet.
She's never sleepwalked before. Never once in her life has, she done this and yet now is the second time it's happened. Combined with a second skin crawling dream.
She tries to remember any specific contents of the dream she had the night she got her powers. The stars floating down from the sky, the manifestation of the staff, and him. It was so long ago the details are more than a little fuzzy. She couldn't tell you what his face looked like but she remembered that he was freakishly tall. Long dark hair that looked like the night sky, and a very peculiar crescent marking over his right eye.
'Maybe this is just…how I am now? Maybe I just have weird dreams and sleepwalk now…'
The potential resignation of these thoughts stirs in her nothing but defeat. She tries reconciling the doubt that seems to keep piling up in her head. Everytime she thinks she's shoveled the driveway clear, she turns around to see that it's snowed another foot and a half.
"Luce!"
Her attention is drawn away from the wayward spiral when Charlie comes up the stairs and stands in the landing. He spots an opportunity and doesn't give her the time to react, charging at her still on the floor and hits the underside of his elbow for The Peoples Elbow, "From the top rope!"
He gets far enough into the fake out for her to screech with laughter and instinctively jump up from the floor. But just as he paused and pulled away, Lucy grabbed the staff just in front of her and jumped up onto her feet.
"Lucy with the steel chair! YEET!"
"Oh shit—!" he flinches as Lucy fakes out her own baseball swing at him, the both of them laughing the bit off. "Whatever gave you that thing had a big mistake. You're a menace."
She snorts, "When did you get here?"
"While you were gone. Just barely missed you too by a few minutes apparently."
"Yeah, I was," she sighs, trying to hold onto the brief flash of joy, "dealing with some stuff."
"I've heard," he said, "So he's in house arrest now?"
Lucy makes a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan and hits her back against the wall, sliding down to the floor again, as if she was dealt a physical blow, "Yeah. I think it'll be good for him, ya know, get out of the blank paper dimension."
He sticks his hands in his flannel coat pockets and comes to stand next to her, sensing the abrupt shift in her demeanor at the mention, "Right, and you think it's gonna help you?"
"I think so," she tilts her head up to the ceiling, "Maybe he'll be more focused, maybe he can give his opinion on this…sleepwalking junk."
"I heard about that too. You did it again last night?"
"Yeah! And it's been really messing with my brain mush. I don't know if it would be better or worse if it was a magic thing or not," she pauses for a second to search her thoughts, ever so slightly grimacing, "Gives me the creeps, ya know?"
After a moment he joins her on the floor, sticking his legs straight out, "I don't think your creeps are too irrational here. You are gonna talk to Sandy about it, right?"
"Yeah. At first, I was thinking of going to ask him about it sooner rather than later, but honestly? I think I wanna do Christmas first. Go to the pole, have some family time. And then I'll go to Sandy after that," her tone nearly wavers with the sentiment, as if she were secretly looking for his approval of the idea.
"Need a sense of normalcy?"
"Definitely," she surrendered.
"Surprising how magic will make that harder and harder to find. And I should know, because did you know that my dad is actually Santa Claus?"
She rolls her eyes, "And did you know that my brother is actually an idiot?"
"I'm trying to say that I know where you're coming from, at least to some extent. Some things…are just gonna be weird from now on. Weirder than usual."
"I know. It's already been a lot more than I thought it would be. The sleepwalking is already weird on its own, but now my dreams are all messed up."
He curiously looks over to her, "Messed up how?"
"I don't even know! That's what's weird about it, some of them have just been feeling off and I can't put my finger on why."
Charlie delicately puts a sympathetic hand on her shoulder and speaks in a warmer tone. Trying to shake some of the uncertainty from her voice, her posture, "Well hey, I'm sure Sandman will know something about this. He's gonna help you out so you won't be so distracted. Maybe it's not even permanent, it could just be a learning curve thing."
She sighs, tired and somewhat drained from a very emotionally fraught day, in more ways than one. She could go on further about the details of her struggles, Charlie is a good enough safehouse for those kinds of things. But she doesn't have it in her. Not now at any rate.
Charlie is back home for Christmas, she can smell the dinner their mom is cooking downstairs. She doesn't have the courage to expand upon her troubles for the moment.
"I know. I know, you're probably right. I know I gotta stop stressing about it," She snaps her fingers and lights off a pinch of lightly colored sparks that trickle into the air.
"Huh," Charlie watches closely at the magic, "I haven't gotten to see you do your thing in person until now. I'm taking notes for when it's my turn to get mine."
"I'll show you everything I know. And that's not all I can do. Watch this," Lucy takes one of her snow boots off and tosses it up into the air and catches it with her telekinesis. She swishes it around a few times for effect.
Charlie looks impressed and even enthralled for a moment before deflating. His smile disparagingly turned into something sarcastically deadpan, "This is so unfair…"
Lucy chokes back a laugh, "Hey, I'm sure your powers are gonna be cool in their own way. Scott can make literally anything, out of nothing! That's gonna come in real handy I bet."
Charlie stands back up, watching as Lucy follows suit, "When I get my magic powers, we're gonna have to fight about it. Epic battle style."
"Ha! I totally have that one in the bag! I have the big stick and I simply refuse to speak softly!"
The both of them start walking back down the stairs from where Charlie came, Lucy's mind temporarily unburdened and content once again. Their conversation about a magical battle royale fading away and off further into the house.
