This is the next part in the series that seems to have arisen from Frostbitten, the tale of how Jamie and Emma go together. This first chapter here is about Jamie's childhood. The next will be about Emma and Emma growing up, then I'll get into them actually being together. I want to give everyone a little more back story than I have before now for this whole story. Hope you like it, and please review!

Jamie's life had changed that early morning that they had defeated Pitch, his feet freezing on the small pond. He couldn't remember how he had managed to get back to his bedroom later that morning, though when he found his book signed by "Phil," over the picture of Bigfoot; it certainly had given him something awesome to wake up to.

He and all of his friends had met up the next day, excited and wide eyed at the spectacle that they had been witness to the night before. They were all bundled up in their winter clothing, as snow still frosted the ground around them, and their group talked quickly and excitedly. They attempted to reenact everything from the previous night, as they climbed onto trees and pulled each other around on sleds, all laughing madly.

Jamie had been the first to leave, his mother yelling for him to come back as she loaded Sophie and a stack of books into their car. It was library day. Jamie had waved goodbye to his friends and rushed over to his mother, jumping into the back seat beside his sister and buckling himself in.

While at the library, he'd checked out as many books as he could on Jack Frost and other myths that the librarian had showed him. He had books from Hans Christian Anderson and The Grimm Brothers, he had Norse Myths, Russian Myths and African Myths, all of the books boasting beautiful illustrations and fantastical stories. His mother had raised a brow as he had handed her the large stack of books, surrendering quickly at his wide smile and eager eyes. They had left, Jamie eager to get back home to read.

He'd spent the rest of the night on his bed, paging through the books, occasionally running downstairs to show his parents something. They listened with patient attention, nodding as he told them of trolls and elves, gods and fairies. And, of course, he told them all about Jack over dinner, using his breadstick to punctuate his story as his mother kept pressuring him to eat his pasta.

"It's just a phase," his mother had said to his grandparents, who had come over for dinner that evening, watching as Jamie sat down to read another myth to Sophie. The adults smiled as he excitedly pointed out the pictures to her. "Next week it will be something else."

But the next week came and went, and Jamie continued to find new books at the library, pouring over anything he could get his hands on. He started making a list, carefully and slowly writing down questions that he had for Jack. Jamie KNEW Jack would come back someday, and he wanted to be ready when he did.

Were Leprechauns real? And did they really have pots of gold? Were there more fairies, or just the Tooth Fairy? What about Gods, were they real?

As the weeks turned into months, early spring morphing into summer, Jamie's list was upgraded to a notebook that he began to tape interesting pictures that he made copies of onto the pages. And then one notebook became two as summer drew to a close, Jamie more than glad to share all of the tales with his friends; he gleefully told them about how the Norse had given them the names for the days of the week, or how the Romans had named their Gods after the planets.

Whenever one of them lost a tooth, they desperately tried to stay up late to see the little baby fairy bringing them the coin to trade for the lost tooth. Most of them had failed, Jamie had managed to do so once and had fallen asleep in school the next day. The little fairy had scolded him, flitting and squeaking around in the air as he held his tooth up for her.

Still Jack hadn't come, and yet another notebook had filled up on Jamie's little desk. Pictures of fairy tale and mythological beings had been drawn out in crayon and hung on his walls, and he had begged for more books from his mom for his birthday that September.

"Just a phase?" his grandfather had chuckled to his mother, watching as Jamie excitedly held up the various books that he had gotten along with a few new toys.

His papers at school had begun to be written in that angle as well, his teacher telling him more about mythology and fairy tales.

Finally, early that winter, Jack appeared. Their little group had all crowded around him, happily greeting him and playing with him as the first snow of the year fell around them. They had played long into the evening, leaving when their parents had begun to shout that it was dinnertime.

Jamie had begged Jack to come back with him, berating him with questions that he'd kept stored all year long. Jack had laughed and floated up into Jamie's room, watching as the little boy had shut and locked his door before pulling out his notebooks and showing Jack his findings.

His mother had forced him to come down for dinner, watching in stunned amazement as Jamie wolfed down his dinner and ran back up to his room. He told her that he was working on important research, and couldn't be disturbed. She had laughed, shaking her head as he'd shut and locked his door again, turning once more to his beloved notebooks.

Jack had patiently gone over what he knew, sitting carefully on an extra blanket as Jamie carefully made notes next to what he had already written.

"Why do they have so much wrong about you?" Jamie had asked, as they had gotten to the part about Jack. Jack had grimaced as Jamie had opened the notebooks and fairy tale books to the images of him as an old man, or a strange spirit made out of icicles.

"I guess they just don't know what to make of me," Jack had said, turning a few pages and smiling at Jamie's own drawing of him.

Jamie had paused, looking over everything. "I'm going to write a book about you," he declared, turning to a fresh page in his notebook. "And I'll make sure I get everything right! And, and I'll put things about Bunny, and North and Tooth in it too!"

Jack had laughed, smiling at him. "I think you're a little young to be writing books kiddo."

Jamie's face had fell, looking down at the books on his bed. "You're probably right. I can't draw as well as these people can either."

Jack had reached over and hugged him. "But, it's something you could work for, right?"

"Like, be a writer?"

Jack had shrugged. "Why not? Then you can tell stories for a living."

Jamie had pulled one of the books towards him, flipping a few of the pages. "I guess this is what these are, stories right? Some of them are just true."

"All stories start with some bit of truth kiddo," Jack said, standing up from the bed. "You just gotta be able to tell them so they believe it."

Jamie had smiled up at him, setting the book aside and holding his pencil to the blank page of his notebook.

"Tell me your story Jack! I'll start with you!"

Jack chuckled nervously for a second, glancing at the clock. "Not tonight, it's late! You need your sleep. There will be plenty of nights for my story, just you wait. Besides, you still have to go to school to learn how to tell all those stories, right? You can't have JUST mine."

Jamie frowned, looking over at the clock. "But you WILL tell me, right?"

"Of course," he said, giving him a big smile. "I'll see you soon kid, I hear your mom coming up the stairs."

"Bye Jack!" Jamie said, tossing the notebook forward and leaping off the bed as Jack opened the window, flying off into the cold, night sky.

"Jamie! Why is your window open?" his mom said, opening his door.

"I was just just saying goodnight to Jack Frost!" Jamie said, closing it and turning to leap back on his bed. "He's going to help me write a book!"

"Oh, is that so?" Julia Bennett said, walking into the room and picking books up off of his bed. "So you want to be a writer now?"

Jamie nodded at her. "Yep! And just you wait mom, I'm going to have an awesome book!"

Julia smiled at him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. "I'm sure you will. Come on, get your jammies on, it's past your bedtime."

Julia set all of his books and notebooks on his desk, coming over to tuck him into bed as he pulled his pajamas on, jumping on his bed slightly. She laughed, catching him as he jumped and covering his face with kisses.

"You're going to get all famous and forget to call your mother?" she said, pulling his shirt over his head.

"No!" he said, giving her a frown. "I'll always call you mom!"

He gave her a big hug, causing her to smile. "Good," she said.

Jack had been around a lot that winter, gladly playing with the group of kids in the snow and laughing at Jamie's plan to stay up to see North.

"He's busy Jamie!" Jack had protested. "You can't let him get off schedule, he gets worse than Bunny when he's off schedule."

"So, then tell me a story! Your story maybe, for my book?" Jamie had said, setting aside his flashlight.

Jack had grinned at him. "What do you think North is gonna bring you? Any ideas?"

The months and years had passed as Jamie and his friends had grown up, some of them growing apart as their various interests changed. As they entered middle school and eventually high school, Jamie's passion for fairy tales, myths and writing never ebbed. He worked hard, absorbing all of the information his teachers presented to the class.

Every time the question was posed to the class on what they wanted to be when they grew up, Jamie's answer never wavered. He wanted to be a writer. He'd been asked a few times, one particular English teacher with cat-eyed glasses on a beaded cord had smiled wide at his answer.

"I want to be able to tell people stories, and have them enjoy them."

He'd worked hard at all of his grades in school, finishing fifth academically in his class and managing to get several scholarships for college, much to the relief of his hard-working mother. She, his sister and his grandparents had cheered loudly as he'd crossed the stage with his academic honors sash draped around his green graduation robe.

Jamie still talked to Jack, laughing and playing in the first snowfall of winter as the spirit gleefully pelted snowballs at him and the few other of Jamie's friends that still came to play. A couple of them had moved, their parents getting jobs elsewhere and Monty had finished high school early, moving into college a semester before all of them.

Jamie had chosen a smaller, older college north of Burgess that boasted their excellent English department. Jamie and his mother had toured several campuses on the weekends his senior year, her emotions ranged from excitement for him to sorrow that she was going to be losing her baby boy to the next stage of his life. He had smiled and patiently listened as she had posed her own questions, asking about safety and housing. She hadn't been impressed with the latter.

"I know dorm life is not supposed to be glamourous," she said, once they were back in the car, glaring at the dorm building. "But that is just, disgusting."

Jamie had chuckled, turning the key in the ignition. "I'm sure I'll manage."

Julia had scowled for a long while, looking over the information for the college while Jamie had driven.

"And this is the one you want? You are sure?"

Jamie nodded. "Yeah, I really like it. I like the professors I've met, I like the campus. I can deal with the dorms mom, they aren't that bad."

"No," she said, tucking the brochure about the dorms to the back. "We will find you an apartment. You aren't living in those. You worked hard to get those scholarships, we will get you a good place to live so I don't have to worry about god knows what is in that building. How are those dorms not condemned?"

Jamie chuckled, leaning over to squeeze his mother's hand as they drove back down to Burgess. "Not everyone keeps their houses as clean as you mom."

She scowled up at him. "There is a difference between clean and dangerous, Jamie."

Jamie had smirked the rest of the car ride home. The dorms hadn't been that bad, but he wasn't going to complain about being able to get his own place. He'd get a job and help pay for the place once he got settled. There was something to be said for not having to worry about weird roommates, and he'd be able to see Jack.

Speaking of the wry spirit, Jamie glanced at the clock and slowly edged up the speedometer just a little more. Jack had finally promised to tell Jamie his actual story, after years of begging, and Jamie didn't want to miss it now. Jamie had a notebook ready, and years of questions at his disposal.