Jack usually doesn't black out. And when he does, there's usually a good reason behind it. Whether it was because he was caught off guard by the kangaroo or he had spent a bit too long where the sun didn't want him, Jack could usually pinpoint and sort out his reasons. But admittedly right now, his mind felt like it was submerged in turbulent waters.

Squinting and bleary eyes took in the blurred landscape with a greedy, delusional fervor that struggled after lucidity. A pained groan sliced through the air as he sat up with a hand nursing his throbbing head. Jack's face scrunched up in confusion at the chaotic arrangement of bramble and thick forest greenery that surrounded him.

His lethargic hands groped the earth underneath them and discovered the alabaster patch of snow that had softened his fall. He smiled at its familiar texture and sighed, relieved, when he spotted his familiar staff beside him. He picked it up with a loose grin. Wherever Jack was, he still had his powers and that was enough to comfort him.

His eyes screwed shut. As comforting as the knowledge of still possessing his abilities was, it did little to alleviate the torment that laced his poor head. The darkness provided a minute anesthetic. Damn, where exactly was he? Last he remembered was a sinuous chuckle that had echoed everywhere around him. Pitch. He had been defeated, right? But the nightmares—one of them—it had-

A twig crackled behind him.

Jack snapped his body around and readied his staff at the source that had produced the noise and, to his growing dread, found a figure clad in a cloak of shadows that the surrounding buffer of trees endowed out of spiteful retaliation to the moon's hard light. The tense silhouetted shoulders gave way the fact that Jack was not the only one who had been startled.

Jack's face twisted hard, eyebrows furrowed and bright eyes glinting sharp. His harsh expression dropped, however, and his expectations fluttered short as the sleek figure quickly rose its hands, which Jack noted, to his surprise, was embraced by white shirt cuffs where a golden design flourished. In place of the gaunt, malicious face that he had expected was a face of healthy pink coloration partnered with curious, wary eyes that measured Jack's taut form.

As the man further stepped out into the sallow light with palms up in a surrendering position, Jack could pick out the intricate lines of the man's garb. Jack immediately recognized it as military—although, it was strange. He hadn't seen that kind of uniform anywhere before.

It did, however, hold a slight trace of a resemblance to one of North's older outfits that Jack had come across when he had been snooping in bulky guardian's office. He vaguely recalled a proud grin on the North's face when he patted the glass that encased it. "From when my hair wasn't so white!" he had boasted. Jack had snorted at the idea back then. North. Young? Yeah right.

Jack's gaze fell back up to the man's face. He kind of looked familiar. Blue eyes narrowed, provoking a sharpening affect in the worry that glinted in the other party. He couldn't exactly place his fingers on it; something was off... missing.

But...

"You can see me?"
"Are you alright, lad?"

The way the words punctuated the air with acute pronunciation, it was-English, Jack recognized. Did he land in the United Kingdom? He frowned. Weird. Nothing looked too terribly familiar.

The man chuckled. It was a pleasant sound, warm and kind. It threaded a sedative through Jack's knotted muscles. It reminded him greatly of a parent's laugh—he hadn't heard one directed at him from a human adult for a long time. 300 years give or take.

"My, lad. I can see you quite fine." The soldier grinned. But it didn't last. It cracked and faltered into a troubled grimace. He strode over to Jack in two quick steps and picked him up by the arm. His voice dipped down into a solemn tone, nipped at only by the accent that dusted over his words. "But you shouldn't be out here this late. It's dangerous."

Once on his feet, Jack pulled his arm away from the man's grip, not bothering to brush off the stubborn snow that clung onto his hoodie. "Nah, I'm fine." He flicked his wrist in dismissal and adjusted his weight to lean against his staff. "I can take care of myself," He said confidently, "I've been on my own much longer than you'd think."

However, he couldn't shake off the fact that the man looked familiar. But this was more or less overtaken by the crashing waves of disbelief that an adult could see him. Who still believed in 'myths and legends' at this age? He scrutinized the man once more, but the answers were undeterred and refused to dislodge and reveal themselves. He didn't really look like the kinda guy who was still a kid at heart. Looked more like a parent, than anything. Not too old nor too young.

"I don't doubt your credibility," He replied softly. Many homes have been plundered in the war he had been fighting. Subtle debonair is laced between the gentleness, but the next sentence is firm and warmed with urgency. "But I insist that you provide this soldier a good rest of mind by allowing me to escort you back to your home."

"Stranger danger," Jack jested incredulously.

"Ah, my apologies," The adult returned, his sincerity almost defacing Jack's good humor. The skin that surrounded his eyes crinkle with the patient smile that indulged in Jack's mischief. But the irises do not necessarily follow the mirth. They are lined and tinged with worry. Even his posture remained stiff. "I am General Kozmotis Pitchiner."

Heck, even the name sounded familiar. And a General? Jack would have been impressed if it wasn't for the fact that he didn't take interest into military and war. Seemed more like North's thing. Regardless, he sounded important and the General already introduced himself. He might as well return the favor.

"My name..." Jack begun hesitantly. He stopped and ran his unoccupied hand through his disorderly hair. "Well, I guess the better question is: Do you believe in Jack Frost?"

The soldier doesn't reply at first. Jack didn't blame him-the question did come out of nowhere.

"I'm afraid I don't know what that is." Was the eventual, apologetic reply, and Jack's confusion and curiosity flared. Then how could he be seen? Especially by an adult who didn't even knowwhat he was? Before Jack could offer an explanation or even speak up, Kozmotis shook his head and intervened.

"Come now, where do you live? The fearlings were reported to be approaching this city yesterday. It's not safe."

Jack's eyes skimmed the thick forest surrounding them once more and hazarded a glimpse back up into the sky again. None of the constellations looked familiar nor did the earthy terrain from all the world he had seen. It was definitely not England. "Well, truth to be told, I'm kind of lost." He admitted. However, at the term 'fearlings', Jack's eyes, narrowed, snapped back onto the General. How did this guy-?

"And I told you, I can take care of myself." He bit his lower lip, shifting his weight away from his staff. This was bad. If Pitch was back already—how long had he been out? Where were the rest of the guardians? Involuntarily, Jack's gaze drawls up to the moon. The usual comforting presence wasn't as strong as it usually was, and the shifting shadows seemed unmistakeably tangible now that he looked at his surroundings twice.

Kozmotis's gaze followed Jack's, oblivious to the conflict. "Lovely, isn't it?" He muttered. His hand absentmindedly wandered over to a pocket stitched onto his tunic's side. If one had observed closely, a golden glint could have been seen peering out.

He shook his head once again and released a sigh which manifested into cloudy wisps thatidly oozedfrom between his chapped lips.

"And as I've said, I do not doubt your ability." He smiled, another chuckle creeping into his voice, "But I would rather avoid any misshapen kidnappings tonight."

Although he had been able to follow the young man's humor so far, Kozmotis was truly haggard. Nightly patrols weren't necessarily his favorite to take up. Honestly, when he had first felt the presence in the forest clearing, he had been ready to draw his halberd in pure paranoia to slay whatever laid beneath the underbrush had it not been for the striking glimmer of silver hair.

Ever since the ominous telegraph reporting fearling sighting had come through, it seemed as though the town that had once bustled in both light and night life had been quashed and fell barren in its silence when the clock struck eight. Kozmotis returned his attention back onto the supposed boy. He had suspected of the boy to be a fearling several times over the duration of their conversation. Yet when he asked about this 'Jack Frost,' which he presumed to be the young man's name, there was a sadness that adorned the boy's features that seemed unfitting and incapable of spreading on any heinous creature's face. Rather, it only confirmed what the boy wasn't.

"And because of that," Kozmotis shifted his weight as he continued, causing the sword's scabbard hooked onto his hip to brush against his leg, "I would actually prefer that you didn't stay out here alone. If you need a place to lodge in, I can take you to where my fellow soldiers and I have garrisoned."

"Geez, you're really not going to let this go, are you?" Jack chortled, which remained ineffective against his growing, troubled mind. He couldn't waste his time when there were fearlings all about. Especially if Pitch was out there. He needed to find one of the guardians. He'd even settle for the kangaroo if he had to.

But the officer shook his head with a stern resolution, and Jack knew that this man was determined to keep him from stepping into the ravenous maws of the abyssal shadows. Jack was touched, really, but it was weird being fed all this foreign concern. Sure, he had his fair share of doting North and Tooth, but Kozmotis was a new person entirely. A living adult that could see him.

But, this kindness and worry-Jack wouldn't be surprised if it was generated simply because the officer had a 'duty' to fulfill. The morose thought sagged his secret relishing of the subject that he had found his 'discomfort' to.

Finding no path out of the man's persistent insistence, Jack finally resigned. He could sneak out later. After all, fearlings really weren't anything new by now, and he's dealt with them before. He was more than capable of defending himself. Or so he believed.

Jack mocked a salute.

"Fine, Mr. Army-Man, sir."

"If you must," Kozmotis mused begrudgingly as he turned towards whence he came, a gloomy obscurity mashed with forestry and shadows, "Pitch is just as good a name as any other."

Author's Notes.
(Edits go down in chronological order from past to present.)

Edit: Suggestions are still welcomed but I've actually garnered a general direction I wish to go. Cheers! :D Half of this chapter is written purely out of delirium ergo I will be editing this bastard later, but what are your thoughts so far? It's a crappy introduction, admittedly, but I willfix it. I swear!

Edit: Thank you kindly, A-List Goddess for beta-reading! You were a wonderful help!

Edit: Just re-read the chapter. Uhm. I think I'm blind. Quickly! I must edit half-heartedly!
Regardless, I've finished the next chapter and A-List Goddess is reviewing it as we speak. Critique and review to feed this lonesome soul of whom which thirsts to make this fiction more bearable.