JACK FROST||NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM

prologue

HE GASPED AND CHOKED DESPERATELY ON AIR HE HAD BEEN DEPRIVED OF FOR SO LONG, PANIC AND CONFUSION WASHING OVER HIM ALL AT ONCE.

His chest ached with each breath, feeling as though he had just ran a marathon with how desperate he was for air, so much so he nearly toppled over and had to catch himself with shaking limbs. His eyes squeezed shut with pain, and he leaned back against the nearest surface.

Wait, what surface? Where was he?

He opened his eyes again, letting his blurred vision come back into focus, adjusting to the lights around him.

He froze in place when he saw the giant skull very close to him. Not just any skull, a t-Rex skull, moving and staring at him with non-existent eyes.

He did the only thing he could bring himself to come up with in that moment, his mind short-circuiting.

He screamed. A lot. Very loudly. For an almost amusing amount of time without taking a breath.

"You're safe! You're safe, you're alright...please stop screaming." The man standing by the t-rex spoke, having gone largely unnoticed by him up until this moment, understandably so.

The young man did as he was told, now gasping once again as he squinted at the older man smiling warmly at him, eyes twinkling behind round glasses.

"No fucking way, are you Theodore Roosevelt?" He asked incredulously once it clicked who this guy was.

"At your service," he nodded, tipping his hat. "And please, call me Teddy."

"Right, Teddy, where am I? Because I know for a fact you're dead, like really dead, and it's safe to assume mister dinosaur over here is dead 'cause, y'know, skeleton." The young man asked uneasily, staring at the dinosaur who was now sniffing the standing glass case around him.

He caught a brief glimpse of his reflection before Teddy could answer his question, and his eyes all but bulged out of his skull and his stomach dropped.

"Why is my hair white? Why am I in a glass box? What the hell is going on?! What—"

"Slow down, slow down." Teddy held his hands out in a hushing motion. "I can explain as much as I know. You are in the Museum of Natural History in New York, and you're on display."

Wait a minute.

"I'm on display...in a museum? In a..." he pressed his hands against the glass, and the horrible realization hit him like it was a speeding train and he was some dumbass who wandered on the tracks.

"Oh my god..."

"I know it can be a lot to take in, take your time–"

"I'm not real."

"No, you are real." Teddy took a deep breath, emotionally preparing for what was to come. "Alright, you're dead...you know, a mummy."

"What the FUCK–"

"I know, it can be a lot to take in–"

"A lot to take in!?" The young man shouted. "That's the understatement of the goddamn century! I'm a reanimated dead body, standing in a glass box!" He flailed his arms about as his volume increased, accidentally smacking his wrist off the glass and wincing.

"Son–"

"You know what's even better? I don't know who the hell I am! I don't know my name, I don't know how I died, nothing! It's blank!" He had begun crying now, he hadn't even noticed until the end of his tangent. "...and I'm really scared."

He sunk to the floor, thin arms wrapping around his knees, frantically wiping his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie.

Teddy crouched to be level with the young man, catching his gaze. "I can't imagine what you're feeling right now, son. But you're here now, and you're living and breathing despite everything. You have that, might as well make the most of it."