I don't own Rise of the Guardians or any characters.

The moon fell softly into the room, the beams resting on the white sheets. A machine beeped next to the bed, tubes and wires connected to the still figure. The light slowly moved farther as the moon rose in the sky until it touched the pale hand. The boy didn't move.

His hair was stark white, rivaling that of the sheets and off-setting his young face. Shallow even breaths moved his thin chest. His skin was almost translucent, blue veins standing out along the upturned wrist. In his hand was a piece of paper.

For a moment, all was quiet. Then the fingers twitched ever so slightly around the paper. The heart rate picked up on the machine. The boy sat up suddenly with a gasp, the wires pulling where they fit in the machine. His eyes flew open and searched the room. The brightness of their blue almost seemed to generate its own light. His ragged breathing slowly calmed and his gaze drifted to his hand where he clenched the paper. Slowly, he unfolded it, his hands shaky.

Jack Frost

My time is short. I wish I could be here when you wake up, but fate has chosen differently.

Do not be afraid.

MiM

The note seemed hastily scribbled, a sense of urgency that transferred in ink splotches. He frowned. Jack. That had to be his name. But who was MiM? He tried to drag up some memory, but nothing came. A sudden pain in his head distracted him and he pressed his hands against his temples, squeezing his eyes shut. After a moment the pain passed, replaced by a dull gnawing in his stomach. Jack kept a tight grip on the paper in his hand as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. A tug reminded him he was attached to the beeping machine and an IV bag, slowly dripping. He quickly removed the stuck on wires and grimaced as he pulled out the IV needle. The machine took up the dead tone with the lack of a heartbeat. A brief dizzy spell overtook him and his legs took a moment to remember how to support his weight as he stood.

How long had he been out?

A staff leaning against the wall caught his eyes and he made his way to it. It was taller than him and curled in a crook shape at the top. Jack reached out a hand, but hesitated a moment. There was something about it that drew him and he wasn't sure if he liked the feeling.

"Come on, Jack," he mumbled to himself. "Don't be a wimp." With conviction he grabbed the staff. It immediately lit up with spirals of ice blue spreading from where he touched it, blinding him in the dark room. He dropped it in shock, stumbling back and falling to the floor. The staff lost its light as soon as he lost contact with it. Slowly he reached out and took hold of it again. The blue pulse lit up his pale skin as he brought it up to his face, balancing it expertly on fingertips. Bright flashes traveled up and down the blue veins of the staff extending down and then up over the crook and he watched mesmerized for a while, crouched on the floor in the simple white clothes he'd woken up in.

A far-off siren drew his attention and he rose slowly, using the staff to keep himself steady as he journeyed to the open window. The city was glowing about a few miles away. The lights of skyscrapers dimming the stars. Jack stuck his head out the window, leaning far enough he could look down from his second story height and then turned to look up at the moon. He grinned with teeth just as white as his hair softly blowing in the breeze. The siren still wailed in the distance.

Feeling more refreshed, Jack went looked back to the room. The light from his staff illuminated the room dimply. The machine had given up its flat-line beeping, simply displaying CRITICAL in large red letters. He moved past it toward the single door to the room. The hallway was pitch black and he gripped the staff tighter, holding it in front of him. The staff seemed to know its purpose, getting a bit brighter the tighter he held it.

"I'm not scared of the dark," Jack murmured, mainly because it was so quite he needed to hear something. He passed by a small group of closed doors, but kept going to the stairs. Again, he let the staff, his staff, lead the way. Carefully he descended the stairs, his bare feet padding lightly on the wood. He kept his ears alert and his eyes didn't blink as he scanned his limited line of sight, but nothing caught his attention.

The first room he entered was a family room of sorts. A dusty bookcase in the corner and an old armchair and couch next to a coffee table. A big picture window overlooked the city. He continued to the next room, a dining room with sparse furniture. The last room was the kitchen. His stomach growled of its own accord and startled him. Again, he questioned how long he'd been asleep.

His hand strayed to the sole light switch on the wall, and the yellow light illuminated the room from the single bare bulb dangling from the ceiling. He blinked rapidly as he tried to adjust to the much harsher light. His staff was carefully leaned against the counter before he went for the off white fridge. Jack hungrily jerked open the door to find . . .

Nothing.

Jack slumped and leaned his forehead against the frame, still staring at the fridge like something would magically appear. With a sigh he let the door closed and began searching the cabinets. He was about to lose hope when he found a box of granola bars shoved into the back of a drawer. "Score," he said. Every time he spoke his voice got a little stronger, cutting through the dark silence of the house. Two granola bars found their way into his hands, leaving four in the box. His instincts told him he should probably stick with only one and save the rest, but he couldn't resist. He was just too hungry. He gulped the first one down in seconds, and forced himself to slowly chew the other as he went back to observing his new toy. The body of the staff was black, sharply offsetting the light blue. It was a good few inches taller then him at the height of the crook, but it was light enough he could twirl it effortlessly. And for some reason, when he held it, he felt much safer.

After turning out the kitchen light, he made his way back to the living room where he collapsed on the couch. The bed upstairs seemed too far away and sleeping next to the CRITICAL machine only made him uneasy. Instead, he curled up with his glowing staff that dimmed to a softer glow, giving him just enough comfort to fall asleep.

I'm not sure if I'm going to continue this story or just end up deleting it later. Any thoughts? I was just looking for a superhero AU of the Guardians and couldn't find one (I didn't look super hard so if there is one out there that's good please let me know xD) so I thought I'd give it a shot.

Read and Review!

~abrokencastiel

-It is really late (err, early) so I might come back and fix some stuff later. IDK. Looks good at the moment for a first chapter