Sunrise, Peter Pan and Rise of the Guardians Xover oneshot
When Jack died there was a whole day (or more) in between his death and when he became Jack Frost. And Peter, besides being the boy has fun adventures all the time, is also the spirit that guides childrens souls to the afterlife. What happens when Peter can't guide Jack? Is he really dead? Oneshot
"Would I trick you?" Jack asked. His little sister nodded quickly, looking down fearfully as the ice cracked beneath her feet. Their skates were resting off to the side, having taken them off knowing that they were in danger.
"Yes," she said, shaking. "You always play tricks!" Her weight shifted, and she could hear the ice breaking. Jack noticed it too, and his eyes got wide, but he covered up his fear with a soft smile.
"Well, not this time," he assured her. More cracking. She looked up, panicked.
"Itâs ok, itâs ok! Youâre going to be just fine," he said quickly, searching his brain for a way out. "Nothing bad is going to happen to you. In fact, weâre⌠going have a little fun instead." He smiled to reassure himself. "Do you want to play a game? Letâs play hopscotch, like we do every day."
"Now?" she asked. Jack nodded enthusiastically. All the while, the ice continued to break under them. They were racing against time; against death. But then again, isnât that what Jack did best?
He looked down and saw a long, hooked staff-sized stick resting on the ice ahead of him. It was frost covered and white, but it looked beautiful. It was resting by the bank further ahead. He decided that that would be what he aimed for.
"Yeah, it will be fun. Just follow me," he said, and took a deep breath. Gingerly, he stepped forward.
"One," he laughed. "Two; whoa!" he cried as he lost his balance, but comically caught himself and beamed once more. His little sister giggled.
"Three!" he shouted as he jumped and landed next to the staff. He picked it up and looked back at his sister, holding it high like a trophy.
"See," he said. "Now you try." She looked at him, her eyes wide.
"Jack," she whimpered. "Iâm scared."
"Well donât be," he said. "Itâs ok, Iâm here. Iâll make sure nothing happens to you. Just believe in me." She nodded slowly and gently took a step. Deep cracks became more pronounced. Jack pretended he didnât notice.
"One," he counted. "See, youâve got it!" She took another step.
"Two. Youâre almost there!" he exclaimed. Just then, the frozen lake gave an incredibly loud snap as her weight finally became too much for it to bear. But Jack acted fast, and he hooked the staff around her middle and flung her toward the shore, and stronger ice. She landed with a thump, but she looked up, grinning at him with relief, knowing she was safe. He let out a breath he didnât know he was holding. Suddenly, with a great crack of the ice and a final terrified look from his sister, Jack plunged into the lakeâs icy depths.
His initial wave of panic caused his heart to leap in his throat. He was drowning! Not only that, but he was drowning in freezing water. He knew he was dead. Even so, he struggled to get to the surface, but after several useless attempts, he lost the use of his limbs and his lungs were screaming and begging for air. He inhaled and blacked out as water filled his lungs, his body sinking to bottom of the frozen lake, never to move again.
When Jack came to consciousness, mere seconds after he had passed out, he was surprised to find that he could breathe again, and while he was still cold, the cold was no longer an unwelcome or overwhelming thing. It embraced him comfortingly.
It took him awhile to realize that he was still in the water, but he did and terror seized him again. He thrashed around wildly and saw something drifting ahead of him. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was him, or rather, his body, still clutching the frozen staff.
"Iâm⌠dead?" he asked quietly. He wasnât expecting someone to answer.
"Not quite," said a figure behind him. He whirled around to find a little boy, who looked no older than twelve or thirteen, floating upright in the water with his arms crossed staring at Jackâs body. The boy was clad in clothing similar to his own and was also barefoot. He had blond hair that was long enough to hide his green eyes, but at the moment it was floating about his face, and not lying on top of his head like he assumed it was supposed to.
"Wh-who are you?" Jack asked. The little boy looked up at him and smiled.
"Iâm your ticket out of here," he said happily, but his eyes told differently. In the sea of green, Jack could see that this little boy was incredibly sad; sadder than anyone he had ever met in his life.
"What is your name?" Jack asked hesitantly. The boy laughed.
"You donât need to know my name," he said. "Iâm just here to escort you during your journey."
Jack was annoyed, but he didnât show it. Instead, he looked back at his body, which was sinking deeper by the minute.
"How come I can see myself if Iâm not dead?" he asked.
"Because youâre almost dead. Dying hurts, and so I took you out of your body so that you wouldnât be in any pain. Just think of it as an out of body experience," the boy said cheerfully. Just then, Jack looked around frantically.
"My sister!" he shouted. "Is she alright?" the boy nodded sadly.
"She is safe, but is pretty upset," the boy said, but he thought for a moment. "Well, I guess pretty upset doesnât quite cover it, but she hasnât fully processed what has happened yet. She is on solid ground if thatâs what you mean." Jackâs un-beating heart broke as he thought of his sister, and how he promised that he would always protect her, but he reluctantly wiped all thought of that from his mind; there was nothing he could do about it now. Instead, he returned his thoughts to the boy next to him, who was again watching his body intently, as if looking for something.
"Are you an angel?" Jack asked quietly. The boyâs hair danced about his face in a way that made him seem almost otherworldly, and he was here as Jack was dying. The boy laughed again.
"You could say that. But weâve wasted too much time here," the boy said slowly, as if making up his mind about something. Finally he shook his head and stared at Jack expectantly. "Take my hand," he said, holding out his hand, waiting for Jack, who took it.
"But wait," he said nervously. "Where are we- whoa!" he shouted as he felt a strong pull on his arm (stronger then he wouldâve expected from someone so young) as the boy shot through the water. Jack looked up and saw the ice racing towards them so fast that he didnât have time to flinch as the boy pulled them both through it as if it werenât even there. He looked down and saw that the frozen lake hadnât even cracked.
As they got higher, the boy began to slow down and Jack could take in the whole view. He had never been particularly scared of heights, he scaled trees like it was nothing, but he had never been this high before. He had to remind himself that he was already dying so that he wouldnât freak out about falling. However, once he got over the shock, flying was amazing!
It felt like he could see the whole world from this high. He looked down and saw his village and the forest where he and his friends liked to play. He looked closer and could see the road that they used to travel to the lake and back. And even though she was on the ground, he could hear yelling and shouting as his sister ran back to their house. The boy looked down and saw Jackâs expression as he watched his sister run home.
"There is nothing you can do for her, Jack," he said. "Itâs always best just to let go." Jack nodded, and wiped his tears away with the back of his free hand. Just then, the boyâs face lit up.
"Hey," he shouted over the wind. "Wanna see something cool?" Jack instantly forgot his woes and looked up at him.
"What?" he asked. "What is it?" The boy smirked mischievously.
"Better hold on tightly then," he said, and he shot through the air faster than anything Jack had ever seen. He barely had time to hold on as the boy whooped and crowed as they flew. Before he knew it, Jack was whooping and crowing right along with him.
"The nameâs Peter by the way," the boy called over the howling of the wind. "And if you want to fly on your own, all you have to do is let go."
Jack felt himself slipping from Peterâs grip and fear overcame him. But wasnât he already dead? Falling wouldnât kill him. So, he squeezed his eyes shut, and let go.
At first, Jacks previous momentum shot him forward until he finally slowed to a halt. When he opened his eyes, he was suspended in midair and Peter was next to him, watching him with his arms folded expectantly. Then, Jack leaned a little bit, and with a jolt he flew on his own. He leaned the other way, and that was the way he moved. He grinned widely and Peter grinned back.
The grin on their faces subtly turned devious as the two boys assessed each other, and almost at the same time they both took off as fast as they could in an intense race that led to nowhere. Peter, the more experienced flyer was surprised at Jackâs speed, but nevertheless he remained in the lead. This was the best part of his job!
Jack was experimenting. He was doing loops and flips and twists in the clouds. To him, nothing felt as good as flying. The wind whipped about his face and streamed through his hair as he and Peter raced, seeming not to have a care in the world. Of course, he knew that wasnât true. But he could pretend for just a little while.
Peter began to slow down, and he wondered what for. However, Peter had never told him how to stop and he raced ahead of him calling out, âHow do I slow down!â
"Lean up," Peter cried. "Lean up and youâll stop. Just donât do a back flip!"
So, he leaned up and sure enough, he started slowing down. He turned around and headed back to where Peter was hovering.
"What is it?" Jack asked. "Why did we stop?" Peter smiled and pointed.
"Look over there," he said. Jack did, and came face to face with the most amazing sight heâd ever seen in his life (or death, he supposed).
He didnât realize how high he really was. When he looked down, he could see the earth curve (so it wasnât flat!) and a great big land mass beneath him with what he assumed to be the ocean on the coast. Jack had never seen the ocean, so he didnât know what it would look like. There were so many colors everywhere, and they were all blended together in such a way that it was all one giant pallet of paint. There were white clouds and green and brown landmasses and blue oceans and lakes. It was a breathtaking view. He felt incredibly insignificant, staring down at the earth. However, compared to what he saw next, the grand sight of the earth was reduced to merely a faded memory.
Peaking over the curve of the earth was a great, bright light. It shone down on everything, casting light in an approaching line as it appeared. Jack knew that this was the sun, and he had watched it rise on many occasion, but he had never seen it rise from this high. It looked like a god, come to bring light and wonder to everything it touched. He couldnât stop staring at it, and eventually his eyes burned so he had to raise a hand to shield them. But he still watched it approach, and it gave everything an orange glow.
What was also strange was that it had been early morning when he had fallen into the ice. Peter must have flown them somewhere else in the world to watch the sun rise over the curve of the earth, which he had to admit, was the most amazing sight heâd ever seen.
Jack looked over to see if Peter was as enraptured in this incredible view as he was. And Peter was gazing down at the earth, but he seemed distracted.
"Whatâs the matter," Jack asked. Peter broke his gaze from the earth to look at him.
"Nothing," he said. "Well, I mean, youâre not dead yet." Jack looked confused.
"What do you mean Iâm not dead?" he said. "I saw my body. Iâm flying up here with you." But Peter shook his head.
"No," he said. "You saw your body because I took you out of it to save you some pain as you died. You should be dead by now."
"How can you tell?" he asked. "Whether Iâm already dead or not?" Peter thought for a moment.
"Normally as soon as the person dies, their spirit starts to glow. You arenât glowing. You are the longest a spirit has ever lasted; most of them never get to see this view." He gestured down at the earth below them. "They start flying, and them bam! Itâs time for me to take them home. But with you, youâre different. Your body hasnât died yet. I think we need to go check it out and see whatâs wrong." But Jack barely heard any of that.
"You mean I might not actually be dead?" he said excitedly. "And I can return home? Whatâs wrong with that?" Peter frowned.
"Whatâs wrong is that you were supposed to die today. And youâre not dead. It was foretold that you were going to die before you were even born." Jack scowled.
Peter got a glazed look in his eye as he spoke, âthe Man on the Moon. Thatâs who foretold it. That is who tells everything.â
"Well, maybe this âMan on the Moonâ got it wrong," Jack said almost angrily. "Maybe Iâm not supposed to die. Maybe I am supposed to go home to my mother and my father and my sister."
"Then we should probably go and check on your body," Peter said. "Just to be sure."
Jack nodded. âLead the way,â he said. And so they flew back. Jack was almost reluctant to leave this view, but if he could still be alive, then there was no way he was going to let any chance he had to go home pass him by.
When they got to the lake it was almost evening. Jack had been concentrating and willing himself not to glow, not to die, so that he could return to his body and his family. That was all he wanted. They passed through the lake like the sheet of ice wasnât even there and sunk deeper and deeper until they spotted his body. As soon as he spotted it, Peter gasped loudly. Jack looked until he could see where Peter was staring. And then he gasped too.
Jacks normally dark brown hair was now pure white and his skin was much paler. The staff he had been holding was glowing faintly, giving an eerie look to the surrounding waters. And while it was clear that he was not breathing, he was most certainly not dead. He floated slowly over to his body as though he were in some sort of trance. Just as he was about to reach out and touch his new white hair, he felt a yank on his arm.
"Donât touch it," Peter whispered. "Not yet, anyway."
"Why," Jack asked. "What will happen when I touch it?"
"Then your soul might be transported back into your body and we donât want that yet. Eventually, we do. But not now." Jack nodded. As much as he longed to be back in his own body, no matter how different it looked, he didnât want to be in it half dead.
"So what do we do?" he asked. "How do we get it out of here?" Peter smiled once more.
"I ask for help," he said, and pulled out an instrument made of multiple, tube like reeds and lashed together with strips of thick grass and sap.
"What is that?" he asked. Peterâs small smile widened.
"Itâs a pan flute," he said proudly. "Itâs my way of contacting the Man on the Moon." And then, Peter pursed his lips, and blew into the flute softly. So now, apparently, not only could they talk underwater, but they could also play music under water as well. Itâs not like the music wasnât pretty, itâs just that it was a bit strange hearing it underwater. It added to the strangeness of the day.
Within ten seconds, he had finished his little tune, and silence fell.
"What is supposed to happen?" Jack whispered after several secondâs unusual quiet.
"Shh!" Peter hushed him. "Just wait."
So he waited, and after several more seconds, he began to notice a slight change in the light. The moon was coming out. Slowly, the moons glow intensified until there was a bright, silvery light shining down upon them. What was odd was that it seemed to be shining down on them specifically. And then, ever so slowly, his body and his spirit began to move toward the surface, gradually getting faster until they finally reached the ice on the top. Jack didnât flinch this time as he and his body were floated up through the ice and placed gently on the top.
Jack sat up. âWell that was weird,â he exclaimed. Peter had risen up beside him.
"That," he explained. "Was the Man on the Moon."
Jack stood up and slowly walked over to his body, which was still pale white and clutching the glowing staff.
"Should I touch it now?" he asked. Peter stood still for a moment, thinking.
"Yes," he said finally. "I think it is safe to touch it now."
Peter shrugged. âI have no idea,â he said. âBut good luck.â
His words did little to ease Jacks worry, but he took a deep breath, bent down, and laid his hand on his chest.
Almost immediately he began to glow brightly, a bright blue illuminating off of his body. As Peter stood, watching in awe, Jacks (the spirit) hair turned white and his skin paled.
"Whatâs going on?" Jack cried. "Am I dying?" But Peter just shook his head, smiling widely.
"Nope," he said. "Youâre not dying. And I understand now why you didnât die in the first place. The Man on the Moon has big things planned for you, Jack!"
Peters smiling face was the last thing Jack saw as he blacked out.
Since that day, Peter and Jack have come across each other many times during flight. Jack of course never remembered Peter, but Peter, even with the poor memory he has, remembered Jack.
Despite this, they would always play, flying through the air, Jack eventually almost being able to out fly Peter. Almost.
It seemed like they were caught in a never ending cycle. They would always run into each other, but Jack could never quite remember. Until just recently.
"You were there," Jack said suddenly after they finished, what felt like their millionth race, with Peter still coming out as the victor.
"I was there when?" Peter asked.
Peter looked at him curiously. âNo one ever remembers when they die, Jack. Not even me.â Jack chuckled.
"Iâve been remembering a lot lately," he replied with a chuckle. Then he smiled softly. "Like the rising sun over the curve of the earth. Now that was a sight to see." Peter looked astonished.
"Then you do remember it," he exclaimed. Jack nodded. "You know, you were the second spirit ever to get to see that," Peter told him. Jack looked surprised.
"Really?" he asked. Peter nodded. "Who was the first?"
Peter smiled arrogantly. âMe,â he replied. Jack scoffed. Peters face softened.
"No one else ever made it that far," he explained. Jack suddenly got that mischievous look that Peter had come to like so much about his friend.
"Letâs go see it again," Jack said. Peter smiled back.
"Sounds perfect," he agreed. Jack stood up and jumped into the air, his staff clutched in his hand. Peter followed.
They flew until they reached the same spot where they had been so many years ago. And then they watched the sun rise.
A/N: I watched Rise of the Guardians awhile ago and the whole time I was thinking about how much Jack reminded me of Peter. So this oneshot was born. This was taken from my account (abbl2) at fanfiction.net. Hope you like it :)
