Bound to get Burned

Rating: T

Summary: North discovers something about Jack that is rather shocking and in later reflection makes a lot of sense.

Author Note: Just finished my Economics paper… which stressed me out since my professor called me today and basically told me I was failing the class—then told me not to stress about it. Seriously, after news like that you want me to relax? But, the paper is finished now and my partner has to do the rest (hopefully) and as a way to cope with the stress I am sitting here, drinking a Hard Lemonade and writing this lovely fic you ultra-kind folks have so graciously supported!

It took about a week.

A very long week in which North busied himself with his work and the work of his Yetis- since production never ceases- but found he was easily distracted. On multiple occasions a Floor Yeti would arrive with a clipboard waiting for the Russians approval to find the burly man staring at the weather globe which he refused to let out of his sights. North carried the replica with him whenever he moved around the production floors, the weight in his trousers a blunt reminder of deeds undone and promises needing to be filled.

It was a long week filled with second guessing and worrying

With a warm smile and enthusiastic wave North sends the Yetis to their weekend- one of the last they'd get to themselves before the production push till Christmas- and returned to his private workshop and chambers. The rooms he occupied as his own were located just off the third floor and up a winding set of polished brass colored stairs ornately engraved with various images. His boots clunk on the metal steps as he wearily ascends upward, his mind weary and distracted.

Not distracted enough, however to disregard the frost covering the decorative metal door latch. North stands for a moment and collects his thoughts; his first instinct is to burst open the door and proclaim his apologies for upsetting the younger spirit, to bathe the teen in attention and kindness till all his problems recede.

No. he disciplines himself mentally. Responding like a mother hen would do the situation no good; it has been over three hundred years since Jack was treated in such a manner. Three hundred years since anyone displayed a kindness or interest in the boy. North reminds himself of the youngsters reaction only five days ago.

"I will give him no reason to run or hide." North promises himself in Russian, the words barely above a whisper as he depresses the lever on the door and enters the vast chamber that is his private workshop. Tiredly the burly man casts an appreciative eye around the room, finding his tools unmolested but Jack's icy fingers. The room itself holds a chill dictating the spirits presence but the fire still rages happily in the hearth. With one last glance around the room the Christmas spirit purses his lips and regretfully resigns himself to the fact that he's missed the younger man's visit. Humming a tune from his childhood the bearded man moves across the area to where the elves kindly left him a crock of stewed beef over the fire which he appreciatively takes a generous portion before settling down in his comfortable high backed chair. With a groan North toes off his work boots and stretching his aching feet, wiggling his toes as the warmth of the fire seeps into the aching joints.

"Nice socks North." Jack's musical comment catches the larger man off guard as he is about to spoon stew into his mouth. Too shocked by the spirit leaning out of the shadows above him the older spirit sucks in hot stew, yowling silently at the scalding paste burns his tongue. North swallows the offending spoonful of burning food and scowls upward.

"That my friend is an unkind joke to play on a man enjoying hot stew." He chastises loosely even as a smile tugs at his mouth. Jack only snorts and reclines further back on the hand hewn beam that makes up the ceiling supports. North sets aside the stew under the premise of allowing it to cool and sets himself to studying the winter spirit still resting seemingly comfortably out of his reach in the rafters above him. Jack is reclined back in a niche of where two beams meet, his arms resting behind his head and one leg bent across his popped leg. North gives a chuckle at the teen's arrangement, reminded of how he once reclined on the branches of the large trees he would hide out in during his boyhood.

Happy memories from that time in his life are few and between and he learned long ago to cherish those memories.

"You are sitting too far away Jack, come and sit with me. The elves make wonderful stew and I will share." He offers, hoping to entice the younger spirit down from his perch. For a moment the teen doesn't respond and North is about to admit defeat and turn back to his meal when the subtle thud on the floorboards announce Jack's arrival. North smiles widely at the display of trust on Jack's part.

"You may pull over a chair from the bench. This bowl will be much cooler for you… no worries I do not have cooties." He laughs at his own joke, noticing how Jack cocks his head slightly at his behavior and shrugs it off to turn on his heel and retrieve the hand crafted chair from his workbench. Once settled, to the left of North's chair and a good distance away from full warmth of the fire Jack hesitantly accepts the bowl that had been cooling as North retrieved a new bowl and retook his position in front of the fire. Allowing the new bowl to cool before taking any the bearded spirit watches Jack as he cools down the stew by simply placing his index finger in it and moving the digit through the contents. Once satisfied the youngster adjusts his staff so the long shaft is lying across his left shoulder, his long toes curled around the lower half. Jack spoons the meal into his mouth slowly, his expression happy as he devours the homemade meal.

"They make good stew no?" North asks as he too happily devours his own ration. Jack nods appreciatively and scraps the wooden vessel with his utensil, picking up the last of the gravy before sucking on the spoon for a moment.

"If you would like more, help yourself."

Jack declines.

North patiently finishes his own meal before setting the used items aside and picking up several clipboards to read the day's output reports, steadfastly ignoring the proverbial Musk Ox in the room.

Wait. No.

Elephant, the elephant in the room is the term, but North never understood why it couldn't be the other as well. Both the elephant and the Musk Ox are impressive animals and large in stature

"Falls minions." North is jarred out of his musings by Jacks quiet admission, the words spoken barely above a whisper and filled with sadness. Wordlessly the older man turns to look at Jack, noticing the change in his body language instantly. Instead of lounging in the chair carelessly Jack Frost has curled into himself, the hood of his sweatshirt obscuring North's view of the boy's face but from the silvery reflection of his eyes tell the Christmas spirit that the boy isn't actually seeing North or his chambers.

"I was lonely and they were nice to me. They take the shape of toads you know? And they would sit below my tree overlooking the lake and tell me stories of Fall's adventures and triumphs, of the people who worship him and the other spirits like him." His words become chilled for a moment but then fade into a rhythm of a child repeating someone else's story.

"I would sit with them and listen to their stories… I was so lonely and grateful to have anyone see me and talk to me like I mattered." His words grow desperate now, narrow shoulders heaving and body shaking slightly in fear or rage North can't tell. If possible the boy curls into himself further as pale fingers dig into the staff.

"One night, just before I was about to freeze the earth for good in preparations for snowfall they attacked me. Their hateful words stung as badly as their tongues that lashed over my skin, cutting me. I-I was caught by surprise and l-lost m-my staff." A long pause before he continues, voice trembling as the shaking of his shoulders increase "They were able to pin me to the ground… I fought back, I fought back." His words are swallowed by a sob and North feels his hands clenching in anger, anger against those who would blatantly harm the child.

"By the t-time they were done… I couldn't feel my fingers or see—one of my eyes wouldn't open. I laid on the ground, still and silent. It hurt to breathe, but eventually they got bored or tired and the one that took my staff threw it on the ground by my head." His words grow stronger at this point, North unfazed by the change continues to listen patiently.

"They gave me back my staff." He dictates and Jack's head comes up from its bowed position and silvery blue eyes lock on the older spirits. North resists the urge to leap from his chair and envelope the forgotten child in his arms.

"I beat the hell out of them North. Then I left, grabbed the wind and hooked a ride out of there." He finishes, mixed emotions chasing each other around the teens face.

"Where did you go?" North asks softly and watches as the teens face settles and his brows crease together for a moment in thought.

"South Pole. I holed up there for a few weeks… recovering. Winter came too late for Christmas that year but when it came, those minions learned to fear me." He snarls the end, face a mask of anger as he addresses the older man. North nods his head sadly, seeing for the first time the true nature of Jack Frost and knows that a lot of his personality was developed as a way to protect himself.

Protect himself from three hundred years of solitude, abuse and neglected.

"Now you know." Jack dictates sharply, his anger from the memory still burning hotly just beneath the surface.

"Yes, now I know. But, I feel as that is only part of the long story that is Jack Frost." North remarks gently, knowing that his words would invoke two emotions from the younger man. For a moment Jack seems mellowed, the angry fire dying down once more to be replaced by the icy calm when suddenly he explodes with a roar of fury. North remains seated as the young spirit leaps from the chair, his staff held out from his side as he paces widely.

"Why do you even CARE to know the rest of the story? You've never given a damn about me before… why START NOW? Am I a convenient thought for you now, being a member of your 'guardians' suddenly makes me SPECIAL? What is it North? Are you OBLIGATED TO CARE?" he snarls, the temperature in the workshop dropping dramatically as the flames flicker and dance as the air currents bend to the teens will.

"Why do you care now that I was beaten and abused? Thrown around by the other spirits like a plaything, used for amusement whenever one of them got bored or annoyed? Why would you give a damn now that I still carry the scars of the torment as reminders that I DON'T BELONG ANYWHERE!" he screams, his voice fluctuating between hysterics and cold demands, words catching in a throat unused to uttering so many words. North watches as the youngling looks for an out for the emotion and anger building inside him and widely swings at the carved ornate column making up the window frame, the rough edges of the decorative scroll work slicing into the boys flesh. Jack doesn't seem to notice as he reels his arms back and wails into the wood, bellowing his anger and distress wordlessly. North stands but remains by his chair, waiting for the moment when the anger runs out, for when the hatred expels itself.

It takes a while

But slowly the anger and hatred burns itself out of the teen spirit

It takes a while before North slowly approaches the boy as he stands in front of the dented and maimed wood, his shoulders heaving as the youngster gasps for air.

It takes a while but North gently cradles the gangly spirit to his chest as Jack's legs lose all ability to hold him and he slips to the floor.

It takes a while of just sitting on the floor ignoring the icy burn of his skin against that of the immortally cold winter spirit until North can make out the words being repeated over and over in a heart wrenching childish whisper.

I just wanted a friend… I just wanted someone to talk to…. Why does everyone hate me… why? Why? Why? Why? I just wanted a friend… I just wanted someone to talk to… why does everyone hate me?

Am I a bad person?

The last question cutting into the master toymakers heart sharply as he cradles the youngster, the times he'd joked about Jack being at the top of the naughty list and holding the record, the few times he'd seem the spirit standing on the roof watching as he deposited the presents and Christmas joy to the mortal children.

"No Jack, you are not a bad person. You have done nothing wrong besides what is in all our nature. You sought out the company of others that does not make you a bad person." North soothes softly, still rocking the gangling teen against his chest. The mantra seems to have calmed, the tremors that had wracked the boys frame slowing.

"I just wanted to understand why, I wanted to ask questions." He sobs, the icy tears falling into ice crystals on the floor as the winter spirit leans against North's tattooed forearms in an uncoordinated attempt to dislodge from the embrace. North lets the teen go and watches sadly as he scrambles several paces away to curl back into himself dejectedly hiding his face from view. Jack gropes around with one narrow arm for his staff and North wordlessly pushes the flimsy branch within reach of the searching fingers. Long, thin and blood stained fingers curl around the wooden token as the youngster sighs at having the familiar object once more. Once reunited with the hooked staff the winter spirit begins to calm but still refuses to look at the Christmas spirit.

"Jack." North tries to coax but the teen only stiffens at his voice.

"Jack. Look at me." A sharp intake of air akin to a sob is his only response

"Jack. What has been done has been done. It is no good; the grievances inflicted upon you can never be taken back. You must live with the memory but you can only control how it influences your life now."

"How many times can I break before I shatter?" Jack's soft response leaves the older spirit drawing blanks on how to respond.

"How long is it going to take before you and the others get sick of having me around? How long into my trusting you are you going to turn on me?" Jack growls, finally shifting to look at the Russian, his silvery blue eyes wide and pleading but still guarded and weary of his answer. When it takes the man longer than Jack found acceptable to answer the teen rises to his feet in one quick movement, his shoulders hunched dejectedly as he moves across the room, heading for the window.

"Infinity." North supplies quickly, the word drawing the teen up short.

"That's not an answer North." He explains with barely contained annoyance, turning sharply to stare at the toy maker. North pushes himself up to his full height and crosses his arms.

" Infinity is too an answer… for immortals." He smiles deviously and watches as Jacks head cocks to the side for a moment and his expression clouds with thought.

"You've never learned of infinity?" North jokes gently and the teens eyes narrow sharply

"Don't make fun of me." He snarls and before North can apologize Jack supplies "people in my era didn't use fancy words." Causing North to chuckle.

"And you think mine did?" he roars with laughter and is relieved to see the younger spirit joining in, even if halfheartedly.

"Jokes aside Jack, myself, Sandy, Tooth and Bunnymund wouldn't do anything to hurt you or lead you into a false sense of security. You are our friend and companion." North sobers and gently places his massive hands on the teen's narrow shoulders. Jack tenses beneath the touch but stays in one place, sheepishly glancing up at the large man with a shy grin.

"I know it won't come overnight. Even if it takes a century to gain it… I want you to trust me Jack."

"what if it takes longer than… a century?" he scrambles for the words but North simply shakes his head and gently tilts the youngsters head upward to meet his eyes.

"We have infinity, take as long as you need." He assures and something flashes in Jack's silvery blue gaze and North nods, knowing the first step was just taken. This type of thing cannot be rushed or formed at someone else's convenience.

"Thank you." Jack whispers and slowly backs away from the large hands, his gaze showing that the tentative steps are still faulty but they are there. Three hundred years of neglect and abuse by others has left Jack's soul bitter and his confidence in others with large gapes. North isn't expecting miracles but eventually- if given time the bitterness might fade, if given time and the right foundations the holes might mend themselves.

He can see it, the potential

It just needs to be shown kindness and support.

It's alright. North's got broad shoulders; he can take on the job.

After all… Infinity is a really long time.

END

Author Note: Sorry, I know a lot of people wanted to see Bunny in this, but I figured I could work out a lot stories with Jack interacting with the others and put them under a multi-story series of sorts. I dunno, obviously that is all based off time I have to write and plot ideas. I have a lot of ideas at the moment and a lot of spare time on my hands this coming break—and right now as I'm hiding in my room from my crappy apartment-mate who I refuse to talk too. ANYWAY- tell me what you think! See you at the next!