Descent

So this was supposed to be like a re-write of the end of Rise of the Guardians, just from Pitch's point of view. Then it kind of got a little out of control… and Dark!Jack made an appearance, so... I posted it on tumblr for Blackice week, and then decided to post it here too. (And yes, I deliberately left out the part where Tooth punched Pitch. I have my reasons.)

Like a coward he had run, fled the scene as fast as could. Only to find himself cornered by his enemies. Pitch turned and faced the guardians, his expression betraying him, silvery gold eyes bulging out of their sockets. For a moment, Pitch wondered why they even bothered to follow him, they'd won so what was there to gain by cornering him so? Couldn't they just let him go? No. Of course not. He should have known better by now. The self righteous do-gooders couldn't ever see past their blinded views of right and wrong. They, like so many others, assumed that labels such as "good" and "evil" could be thrown around easily. Pitch knew such labels were nonsense, and far from black and white. Every light cast it's own shadow, and in turn a shadow would not exist without said light to cast it.

"You can't get rid of me! Not forever. There will always be fear!" The last words of a desperate soul, who knew the battle had been lost. But desperate though they were, they were also undoubtedly true. Fear would always exist. Spreading fear and darkness was more than a sick hobby for Pitch, it was his job, his purpose. The very reason he still existed, was because fear simply couldn't die. Fear would always be there. The nagging feeling in the back of your mind, the anxiety creeping up your spine, the stomach twisting terror and the rush of fear-spiked adrenaline. It was just a part of daily life, and the reason why Pitch would never rest. North however didn't seem to see this, and shrugged off the comment with a simple "So what? As long as one child believes, we will be here to fight fear!". The fool, as if that were so easy.

Pitch felt lost, and his messages clearly weren't getting their point across. A feeling that was both foreign and hauntingly familiar at the same time began to creep up on Pitch. It started small, but only seemed to grow inside of him more as the guardians continued to banter amongst themselves. The boogeyman could hear his heartbeat banging in his ears like a drum, could feel goosebumps crawling along his skin, and yet his mind seemed numb. Realisation dawned on him slowly, but when at last it did, Pitch's heart sank. Fear. This was fear. The nightmare king himself was feeling terribly, and sickeningly afraid. Ironically it was Jack, the very boy who had scorned him earlier when he'd allowed himself to open up, that was the first to point this out: "Looks like it's your fear they smell."

And there was that damned smile. Jack's smile that wore away all his barriers, the same smile that also had the power to break him. If he'd have looked closer he might have noticed the way that smile was more of a smirk, the dark rings under the boys eyes… but he was too lost in his growing fear to truly pay attention. Pitch's eyes looked ready to burst out of his skull as he stared at each of the guardians in turn, then his attention suddenly drawn to the nightmare creatures as one of them whinnied loudly. "Wha- NO!" Pitch shrieked helplessly as the horses composed of blackened dream sand began to lurch towards him, yellow eyes narrowed on their new target: him. Pitch did the only thing he could think of in that moment, he tried yet again to run. However the nightmares seemed to like this, seeing it as a challenge as they galloped after their master-turned-prey at top speed. "No, no, NO!" the boogeyman practically begged as the creatures all but dragged him down a hole in the earth.

Pitch realised with a slow, agonising sense of dread crawling up his spine, that this hole was one of the many entrances to his lair. Animal instincts kicked in, and Pitch began to claw at the ground, digging his nails painfully into the dirt in a desperate attempt to stay above ground. Still they continued to drag him down, becoming more hungry, more insistent by the seconds, as the guardians just watched his descent idly in the background. Pitch would literally rather die than to be dragged back down into the dark, tormented by his own creations, his own fear. But with one last brutal tug, the nightmares successfully locked him away, the hole sealing itself over behind him. For a long time there was nothing but silence and darkness… and then the screaming began.

Time passes, slow and uneven, still it passed. In a blurred and distorted view did his meagre excuse for a 'life' continue. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, years… they all melted into one unmeasurable haze of time, moments going by, in and out of consciousness. At first Pitch was aware of nothing, blinded by the darkness. He didn't know how long he'd been down here, or for how long he managed to remain awake before being encompassed by yet another never-ending nightmare. There were times when he would wake up from his comatose state, gasping and crying out names he did not recognise, words from his past that chilled him to the very core, and caused him to shake as he struggled to remember. But then the darkness would always pull him back under, lull him into a false sense of security, trapping him in an unconscious state.

Who knew how much time had passed the next time Pitch awoke. It felt to him like years had gone by, painful and slow, and yet it may have only been a few days. There was no way of telling down here in the black hole of his lair. All he knew was that when his eyelids finally lifted, breath beginning to burst through him in ragged gusts, there was something… not quite right. Something seemed different from the last few times he'd regained consciousness, and it wasn't until he pushed himself into a sitting position on the stony floor and looked around that he realised; he wasn't alone. There was something, no, someone, stood over him, but the figure was hard to make out, Pitch's vision still slightly clouded from a recent nightmare.

He wanted to reach out, to touch the figure, just to prove to himself that he wasn't still sleeping. That this wasn't just another trick, a fear-fuelled delusion of some sort. Perhaps the nightmare creatures had finally grown bored with tormenting him in a state of unconsciousness, that they were now playing with his mind when awake too? He lifted a single hand, and reached out slowly to the looming figure, whom he could tell now, had it's back to him. Yet just a few millimetres away from making contact, the figure suddenly turned around. Pitch dropped his hand with a gasp, as he stared into icy blue eyes, eyes that were far too familiar. "Jack…?"

Pitch shifted again, moving closer to get a better look at the boy, who as of yet still hadn't said anything. As pale gold eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out the unruly mess of white hair a crooked staff held in one hand. His gaze again met those glacial blue ones, that remained a faint glowing light in the otherwise black cavern. But something seemed different, the colour in those eyes was far duller than he remembered, and the dark rings that he'd failed to notice previously were now more prominent, a spiders-crawl of shadows trailing over frozen skin. As he continued to stare, the figure that was undoubtedly Jack, smiled a very similar smile to the last one he'd seen, just before he'd been sealed away.

"Hey, Pitch." came the light-hearted, slightly sarcastic reply. The voice rang through him like a bell, shot through the fear which had been drowning his soul, and brought him back to reality. It was Jack, yes. But he was much darker, and his pale body seemed far too comfortable as the shadows swirled around him and licked at his skin. How long had he been down here? Why was he down here? Pitch was still slightly uncertain, thinking that this had to be a test, some kind of new torture the nightmares had invented, when a cold hand suddenly reached out and made contact with his cheek. A startled cry escaped the former nightmare king at the contact, before he could even try to hold it back, the touch unfamiliar, unwelcome, and yet calming at the same time. It grounded him, woke him up fully.

"It's okay, it's okay!" Jack's voice reassured quickly, that bright smile fading into a frown as he moved closer, crouching down to be closer to Pitch. Jack's gaze seemed to search his, for what he didn't know, but whatever he found there caused the boy to sigh and sit down on the floor adjacent to the fear spirit. The hand withdrew, and buried itself deep within the pocket of the boys hoodie, yet still those eyes did not look away. Pitch couldn't bring himself to say anything, he was too lost, too confused. His head hurt and for a split second he almost wished that he was still unconscious. Thankfully though Jack seemed okay with the silence, and didn't need prompting to explain. Pitch's eyes widened in disbelief as he listened to the boy's tale, of how he'd jumped down the hole after Pitch and the nightmares, and had been down here suffering with him ever since…

"So I guess I'm dark like you now, huh?" Jack finished somewhat lamely, giving a casual shrug like it was no big deal. Pitch gaped, unable to express his emotions. He was angry at Jack for doing something so stupid, but he also appreciated it, more than he would ever admit. So instead he settled for a small smirk in reply, and a simple nod "It would appear so. Welcome to my world of fear and darkness, Jack."

written by lovesickpitch on tumblr (me) for blackice week prompt 3: role reversal or Dark!Jack