Hey guys! Long time no see! :D Rand0mSmil3z here with the second chapter to Copy Cat; my suyper-good friend Ytwolfpup from DA asked for another chapter and, since this amazing amazing person is sweet enough to draw a comic for Eternity (go to deviantart and look up Rand0mSmil3z, then go to my groups. It's Humanity-Eternity and all of my stories are there, but all of the fanart/art in general.) :) Besides, this was originally going to be a two-shot anyway so I thought, what the heck. At the end of the chapter, I'll add a few stuff on what I'm doing now and what's coming after this. :)

And thanks for all of the love and support guys 3 you're all so incredibly amazing!

It's strange, Jack thought as he watched the aurora lights flicker in the distance, how something so beautiful could be so lonely. The aurora danced like a ribbon swaying in the open breeze, glowed in the frozen night like a sole lantern cast out onto a dark sea. Jack shivered - not from the cold - and pulled his jacket a little tighter against him.

Where did it go?

It had been six months since his copy vanished. Six months of silence, six months of flinging snow onto different towns and cities, six months of mischief to fill up the silence. Bunnymund was always busy now, saying stuff like "Sorry mate, gotta work on the eggs," and North always threw a fuse when Jack dragged in the snow after a long day. Sandy didn't really hold up a good conversation, thoughTooth would always say hi to him and was always willing to be there if he needed anything, so that was nice, but she still didn't understand much about 'snow' and 'cold' and 'personal space'.

Jack scowled at the distance. Personal space. She was always jamming her feathery little fingers in his mouth and cooing over how nice his teeth were, how white they were, how they were shaped, blah blah blah, and after three hundred years of being alone it was hard to get used to it all. He was trying though, definitely trying, but sometimes it was hard.

Oh well, he thought, closing his eyes as he rested his chin on his knees. At least I have nights like these.

Jack wasn't sure how long he sat there, but soon the gray twilight transformed into a brilliant, scarlet dawn. He yawned and sat up, stretching out the kinks in his back, before standing and grabbing his staff. He didn't have anything do to today. He kicked up a beautiful storm over Russia yesterday and now the wind was blowing it eastward. He also kicked up a smaller storm of Canada and parts of Alaska. He had half in mind to go to Cape Town, since it was technically their winter now, but Jack dismissed the thought. He made it snow there last week; they didn't need another couple of inches to deal with.

So, he thought, turning his face towards the sky, what am I supposed to do?

...

Who am I?

Copy-Jack kicked his feet over the Great Wall of Chine, head turned towards the midnight sky as he breathed misty clouds. The stars twinkled up in the sky; once, Copy-Jack had heard someone compare the stars to eyes. He thought that was stupid. Stars looked more like fireflies than eyes; first of all, they didn't have pupils. Second of all, he didn't feel like the stars were watching him at all. If they had been, he wouldn't be feeling like this.

Who am I?

Copy-Jack tore his gaze away from the not-eyes and turned it towards the distant horizon instead. The silhouettes of hills cut the sky in half; the trees that covered them roughed up the edges. Who am I? was a question he had turned in his mind over and over again, pondered about it for so many sleepless nights, cursed it like a bat cursing the sun. Copy-Jack glanced at his hand, at his pale skin and slender fingers, to the several scars and other blemishes, and reminded himself that this wasn't his hand. This was the real Jack's hand; Copy-Jack was just borrowing it for a while. Maybe even forever, unless his fake body came with an expiration date. He tried asking Pitch about it, but the Boogie Man seemed to vanish off the face of the universe.

Which leaves me on my own, Copy Jack thought. It wasn't like he particularly minded being alone; after all, that was the way it had always been. What he couldn't stand was that the other Jack, the real Jack, wasn't. He had friends, a family as he put it, and didn't have to be alone all the time.

But didn't Pitch say that Jack had been alone three hundred years? Copy Jack remembered, then shivered. Three hundred years of this . . . I'd go mad. Suddenly he choked on laughed. Maybe I already have.

He turned his gaze towards the stars again, to the fireflies suspended in space, and asked himself again: Who am I?

A copy?

Or a person?

Copy Jack balled up his hands. I can't take this anymore. With that he stood up and jumped off the Great Wall of China, and decided to head North. Copy Jack had watched the real Jack from the distance sometimes and knew that's where he usually was. Copy Jack didn't even know why he bothered to check up on the real one - he cursed himself for it more than once - but for some reason, something always brought him back. Maybe it was because he didn't have anything better to do. Maybe he needed to learn from the original how to be original. Or maybe it was something less complicated; Jack was like the sun and Copy Jack was just a star, destined to follow the brightest light in the sky before being killed by it.

...

"Hey," Jack said from his perch on the boxes. North had been remodeling his office for about the thousandth time; his excuse was that he had been feeling 'old and outdated' (Jack laughed at that and told him that the only two people older than him in the entire world was Manny and Sandy, something that North didn't appreciate) but Jack figured it was more because he wanted to install a coffee-maker. One of the yetis came back with a this thing called a 'mocha frapachino' which send all of the elves into hysterics and all of the yetis on caffeine-comas. Shortly afterward, all of the elves passed out, creating one of the most silent days in all of Santauff Clausen history. North called it a 'miracle' and set up a shrine for Manny for creating such a marvelous concoction. It was probably still set up in the globe room.

"Hey," Jack said again, though a little more forcefully. Like the thousand times before, North ignored him and focused on measuring the wall instead. Finally Jack sighed and just decided to blurt it out. "Are we able to die?"

North started and dropped the ruler. It clattered on the floor as North turned to Jack, his sapphire eyes wide. Moments later he turned away, seemingly recovered, to pick up the thing he dropped. "Why do yoo ask?" he asked in his Russian accent.

"Just wondering," Jack replied innocently.

North paused before saying, "Well, wemember the battle wit Pitch?" Jack nodded, his face grim; how could he forget? "Well, wemember wen Sandy disappeared?" Once again, Jack nodded; he had been so scared then, so scared and so hopeless and full of hatred at Pitch, though mostly at himself since he wasn't able protect Sandy. His hands balled up into fists; it had been almost a year ago and the loss still stabbed at him like a knife.

"But Sandy came back," Jack said, knowing where this conversation was going, "because enough people believed in him again, right? I mean can we actually die, like the normal humans do."

North turned to him, arching an eyebrow. "Yoo were once a 'normal human'," he said, "and now you're a Spirit. Are you saying that you aren't normal?"

Jack smothered some laughter. I'm about as far from normal as you can get, he thought to himself, then amended, "I mean like can we die and not ever come back. Like, permanently gone." Like my family.

North watched him for a moment, his blue eyes seemingly peering into Jack's core, before saying very slowly, "No. There isn't a way. If enough people believe, you will always come back, Jack. And you do have people believing in you now," he added with a reassuring smile.

Jack smiled back, mostly out of reflex, then sobered. "What if I was killed before?" he asked, remembered back to when Pitch broke his staff. "Before anyone believed in me?"

A stray elf wandered into the office, only to leave immediately from the heavy atmosphere. "You . . . might not have made it," North finally admitted, then said in a much more cheerful voice, "but ah, who cares about that? You are okay, I am okay, Sandy is okay, and we are all okay, so cheer up a bit. Being upset isn't like you."

Jack blinked, then smiled again because he knew that North would have liked that. "Okay," he said. "Sorry."

"Ah," North said with a wave of his hand, "don't be sorry. Go get some hot chocolate instead." He turned back to his ruler and then, moments later, turned back to Jack and waved his hand. "Go. Shoo."

Jack laughed - a real one this time. "I'm going, I'm going," he said, lightly jumped off of the boxes and out the door. Talking to North, though he was really busy now, always made him feel better. He didn't feel so heavy anymore, didn't feel as weighted down or feel like something was gnawing in him from the inside out. In fact, he almost felt light again, and the constant questions floating around in his mind gave him a bit of breathing room.

He almost felt like himself again.

...

Are you kidding me?

Copy-Jack peered out from behind a cliff of pure snow and ice and just stared at the massive thing that was called Santauff Clausen. Sure, he had always kept tabs on the real Jack, but he never followed him all the way out here. It would have been too risky. Even now Copy-Jack felt his nerves being shaken up and his hands begin to shake slightly. Some stray snow fell into his face, and he impatiently rubbed it off his face with his arm.

This is suicide, he told himself as he buried himself further into the snow. Suddenly he realized something. Wait a minute, he thought, propping himself in his elbows, aren't I immortal? The real Jack is; I beat him to a pulp and he still didn't disappear. And what the real Jack is, I am too.

For the first time since his creation, Copy-Jack grinned a real smile. Immortal. That meant he could die, right? So if the harry rugs called yetis caught him and beat him, he still wouldn't die or even if the master of Santauff Clausen found him, he would still be alive enough to escape. It was a wonderful thought, immortality, and Copy-Jack planned to use it to the fullest.

So, smothering his fear, he jumped off of the cliff of snow and freefell for a few seconds before the wind managed to catch him. His white air blew into his yellow eyes. His eyes were the favorite thing about him, mostly because they weren't blue like the original Jack's.

He gently landed on top one of the arching spires of the castle and took a reassuring breath that he didn't get caught. He could see some of the harry rugs down below out patrolling, but the security was lax - no doubt an after-affect of Pitch's defeat / absence over this past few months. Pathetic. With an effortless jump he silently landed on the hard ice that made up the patio area, then dashed inside. Luckily for him, he was the clone of one of the slyest, sneakiest beings in probably all of human history. After all, the real-Jack had over 300 years to perfect his craft, and Copy-Jack inherited every ounce of it. Copy-Jack knew everything that the original knew - his family, his death, his way of life, his habits - but chose only to remember only what was necessary. The goopy family-mess wasn't something he fully understand.

After all, the copy thought bitterly, a clone can't feel a real thing like love. Though, in retrospect, it was hard to miss something you never had.

...

Jack wandered aimlessly through the halls bored as all get-out. He wasn't in the mood to play elf-bowling (something that the elves hated with a passion) and didn't feel like bothering Phil today. So, the next best thing was snatch some cold-chocolate from the kitchen and dash off into the snow like a madman.

Maybe I can even steal the sleigh! he thought, then remembered how not-so-nice the reindeer were. Even Rudolph was upset with him after he froze the carrot, though Jack always claimed that it was an 'accident'.

Halfway to the kitchen Jack froze. There was a chill to the air, a subtle change in temperature from the norm. Jack had always been good with knowing the exact degree the air temperature was, a gift perfected over the years as being the master of cold. It was a difficult job to not accidently drop the temperature too low in, let's say, North America if the plants would all be killed. There was a finite art to his practice, an art that most generally overlooked.

If I had a dollar for every time someone claimed that my job was the easiest, Jack thought with a scowl, I would be rich enough to buy myself a planet. Preferably Pluto. Or is that a moon now?

Whatever. When did he care about planets or money anyway? As far as he was concerned, he wanted some cold-chocolate and that was -

- that?

Jack's eyes widened; his reflection did as well. Reflection? Jack thought as his mind began to whir. Mirror?

Suddenly the reflection cursed and spun around.

Ooh. Not a mirror.

All thoughts of the cold-chocolate gone, Jack launched himself forward, propelled by a sudden unnatural gust of wind in the halls. The Copy-Jack, having the memories but not the experience, was caught in a heart-beat and thrown against the wall with a thud. A few stray elves, most likely the slackers, saw the scene and sped off, most likely to alert North.

Where are the yetis?!

"Why did you come back?!" Jack demanded, his fist balled against the Copy's identical blue hoodie. "Was the last time I beat you up not good enough?!"

The Copy's yellow eyes, those all-too familiar eyes, narrowed for a brief second before closing. He sighed, raised his hands slightly, and dropped his staff. Jack frowned, his grip slacking for a brief second before he closed his fist again. What is he . . . ?

"I just want to talk," the clone admitted suddenly. He still had a defiant look in his eyes and his jaw was tense. A few yetis came storming past but froze when they noticed that Jack had it under control.

Jack, on the contrary, didn't feel in control at all. "Huh?" he said, loosening his grip. "To talk?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" Copy-Jack demanded. "Talk to rocks?!"

Talk to rocks. Jack would have laughed if he didn't feel so lost right now. Talking to rocks . . . it seemed like a lifetime ago he tried that out. It didn't work so well. "Let me guess . . . rocks don't provide much conversation?"

The Copy-Jack's eyes widened slightly, as if the real Jack read its mind, before resuming his scowl. "Look. I'm not here to fight, okay?" Suddenly he threw his hands into the air. "In fact, I can't remember why I came. I'll leave, nice and quiet, and leave you alone for the rest of eternity, all right? So, let me get my staff - "

"And cold-chocolate," Jack piped up. "You should take that too."

But the clone shot Jack a confused look mid-way down to collect his staff. "Huh?"

"Cold-chocolate," Jack explained with a smile. It had just dawned on him; this other Jack was just lonely, something that he could relate to all too well. Of course the copy-Jack would come to him first; who else could he talk to? "It's actually pretty could," Jack pressed on, standing up, "and I like it, so you probably will too."

Copy-Jack frowned, but the cold look in his eyes were gone. Instead was the fresh innocence of a child, a small flicker of hope burning in his sunny eyes tinged with a fear that the opportunity would vanish. "Fine," he said, brushing his hair out of his face. A nervous gesture. "I'll go. But make it fast."

Aaaaand that's all I got. Copy-Jack has a new life of friendship ahead of him, Jack has a new friend in himself, and all is happy. :)

Humanity and Eternity (two of my other stories) are being translated into Russian. Holy Guamoly. Many thanks to the person who asked to do this :) Both stories will be published here and onto many other sites, with a link to the original site since I'm a bit paranoid about people stealing or taking credit for my work. I honestly am D: Thanks to the translator for putting up with me haha 3

So, I'm sorry everyone, but I'm moving on from ROTG. I'm planning on going onto Pokemon or Blue Exorcist (aka Ao No Exorcist, but I'm using the English way since WADYAKNOW, this is an predominantly-English site) with a few OC's. I have a few ideas for both; for Pokemo, a friend and I are doing a joint project with our own generation and for Ao No Exorcist (sorry, the english name sounds ridiculous to my ears. I imagine a smurf holding a cross and holy water, actually. Imagine that for a second hahahah :D ) I'm inserting my OC from the very beginning and writing a parallel-world type of thing with more back stories for all characters. That's the plan though. I actually haven't started anything. -_- Maybe once in a while I'll write some ROTG, but for the most part, only commissions. I ended my original work with Jack Black.

Anyway, sorry about the rant. 3 Stay awesome beautiful people! (Please check out the comic on DA - my amazing friend is drawing it for Eternity and it is turning out AMAZING 3 five pages in! Whooo!)

Rand0mSmil3z