SEQUEL OF "WHAT GOES TOGETHER BETTER THAN COLD AND DARK?"
NOTE: This story is mpreg. Since it's a strong issue I want to reassure you: I will not write about any topic in a careless or superficial way, nor do I will ever dare to trivialize anything. I will analyse every issue in depth, without simplifying or make look natural what, in reality, is not normal, and I'll made sure to describe every thought and physical sensation in the best way possible.
WE DON'T HAVE TO BE ALONE – CHAPTER 1
Perched on the branch of a tree Jack glanced over the surrounding landscape, covered by a thin layer of snow which he himself had dropped to usher in the cold season, and smiled: he had spent the most beautiful spring and summer of his life, winter was coming, the magic staff was in full of its powers and he couldn't be happier.
Months had passed since the day when Pitch, prey of a blind rage, had evoked Behemuth and then sacrificed himself to save him, risking his own life in order to preserve his partner's one and spending a period of convalescence at North's Palace, tenderly attended by the Guardians, and no striking incidents had happened.
As soon as Frost and the Boogeyman had put an end to the forced holiday they had headed to the latter's liar, to check it and make it safe: first of all the man had climbed down into the tunnel which led to the old demon's prison, and, once made sure that it was locked by spells powerful enough, he had personally taken care to close the hatch, using the heavy circular stone which he should have never moved; then, flying from one end to the other of the huge cave, he had briefly looked at every corner, not amazed to find cracks and collapsed walls, given the fury which Behemuth had showed to be able to trigger; finally, after he had retrieved and placed the iron Globe, which had miraculously survived the destruction, he had stared the boy in the eyes and nodded, definitely closing that terrible chapter in their lives.
None of them had taken care to remedy the damages, but, indeed, it was not necessary to do it: Pitch's cave perfectly reflected the state of his powers, showing itself at its utmost gloomy splendour when he was strong and going into decline when he was weakened; therefore, it had been enough less than a week of big game among the children's dreams to bring everything back to normal.
Days had passed, then months, but the Boogeyman had given no sign of change: he had been loving and caring with Jack, he had never exaggerated in carrying out his work, but he had never even opened up, nor talked or asked about the other Guardians any more. The boy had decided to keep quiet and not force him, hiding his pain behind polite smiles and trying to appear cheerful and carefree, but, just when he had lost all his hope, his love had left him stunned. On Easter Sunday, at an early hour, he had gone into North's Palace, landing in the central hall riding Voluptas and making it dissolve with a soft hand gesture; haughty and arrogant as always he had not announced himself, nor expressed a greeting more appropriate than a groan, but he had hastily sat on the carved chair which Santa had made for him, explaining he had showed up just to meet his partner. Despite the initially distant attitude, the man had never shooed the master of the house and Toothiana, the only present Guardians, nor had attempted to avoid striking up a conversation with them; as the conversation had become fluid and relaxed he had let himself go, keeping a controlled tone, but showing to appreciate the company which surrounded him; finally, when Frost had arrived, he had hugged him without embarrassment and he had lingered to drink a tea, savouring it slowly, as though he was in no rush to leave that place.
In hindsight and with the help of the infallible women's intuition of the Tooth Fairy the boy had understood the reason of the long wait: Pitch, in fact, had not only taken some time to clear his mind, but he had also made sure to show up in an occasion on which he knew he couldn't meet Bunnymund, in order to spare himself, at least the first time, the effort to refrain himself from arguing.
To the delight of Jack after that visit there had been others, not frequent, often short, but he couldn't have wished for better: the Boogeyman, finally, was coming out of his shell and learning to interact with the ones he had always considered enemies, and there was no need for him to make all the necessary steps to put an end to his hatred in a single day. The boy was happy to see him take things slow, gradually getting accustomed to a completely new way of life, and to help him when he understood he was in trouble, and when he saw him smile he felt rewarded for all his efforts.
Of course, in addition to those moments spent in company, there had been countless others which they two had reserved for themselves, sharing every experience: from the reading lessons to the rides in the spring meadows full of scented flowers, from the jokes to the horror stories eavesdropped by the hikers gathered around the fire in the summer evenings, from the dissertations about any topic to the walks through the trees dyed of thousands colours by autumn, from the creation of Nightmares to the activation of the staff, from the hugs to the cuddles, from the kisses to the hot caresses they exchanged, moaning against each other's neck, marking each other with their teeth and nails as they reached the complete satisfaction.
Sighing at the memory of those magical moments that he would never forgotten, Frost smiled and stroked the last detail of that picture so perfect: his blue hoodie. He had almost destroyed it in his breathless attempts to save the man, wetting it with his blood and tearing it apart, but when he had heard North saying it was no longer fixable, he had insisted to make him repair it: it had been his outfit for years and years, it had followed him on every adventure and he didn't want to part with it. After days of vigorous washing and meticulous work with needle and thread, the Yeti had returned him a shirt so beautiful it seemed new, clean and perfumed, which Pitch had promptly decorated with fine grains of his black sand, and the boy had considered that final touch the cherry on top of that year so special.
Moving the hand in a soft gesture Jack interrupted the brief snowfall he had caused, making sure to leave a blanket on the ground thin enough not to alarm the inhabitants of the region, but thick enough to allow children to play their first snowball fight of the season, then he settled down on the branch again, resting his back against the log to relax and enjoy his own reflections. The more he mulled, the more he become convinced that his life could not get any better than this: the man he loved loved him back and considered him his most precious treasure, the Guardians were sympathetic and caring friends and collaborative and willing colleagues, the icy power which pervaded the staff was so intense to make it vibrate and almost all the world's children were waiting impatiently for the arrival of winter to receive his visit, what else could he ask for?
Laughing he looked up, staring at the full moon which stood at the centre of the horizon and directing his thoughts to it, or, rather, towards the one who lived in it: for centuries he's been silent spectator of what was happening in the world and, with the exception of Frost's designation, he had never intervened, so it was hard to guess what he thought about the situation. No doubt he was aware of the relationship he had with Pitch, but what was his opinion? He had neither favoured nor hindered it in any occasion, so did he think it was right to let them do what they wanted? Maybe had he changed his mind about the Boogeyman's evil nature? Would he have ever talked to him?
While these and other questions crossed his mind, capturing its attention more and more, Jack realized that he had focused only and entirely the satellite, excluding from his view the starry sky and the ground, and when he tried to turn his eyes away he didn't manage to. Sure that the cause of this was the excessive time spent in contemplation he didn't get worry and tried to close his irises, but, feeling that the muscles weren't reacting, he slightly panicked: he tried with all his strength to move, but the more he struggled, the more he perceived his irises widening and the pupils dilating, absorbing the light which had become so intense to make him cry and so being blinded by it.
When the fear which had gripped him filled him to the point it reached his neck and took his breath away, the spell was broken and the boy got master of his body again, though he was too tired to try to stand up. Gasping he closed his eyes, trying desperately to regain the control of himself and eliminate the annoying bright spots from his retinas, and when he felt ready he opened them to look around.
The landscape which loomed in front of him was definitely different from what he expected: instead of the snowy tundra, where he had been until few minutes before, he saw a flat, monotonous landscape, occasionally interrupted by craters and small rocks and completely covered by a sparkling white powder.
Completely disoriented Frost stood up, shaking the sand off his clothes and trying to figure out what had happened, but, as he struggled to find an explanation for the sudden and unjustified change, he noticed a figure approaching from his right side.
Peering he noticed that it was a man with a physical structure similar to Sandy's: short and chubby, he was dressed with white puffball pants and a shirt, fastened on the waist with a crimson belt, and he wore a funny pair of shoes point upwards and an elaborate jacket, both mustard coloured. His head was completely bald, except for a long, thin tuft of blond hair which grew just above the forehead, defying gravity and standing upright, but falling in its last part in a soft wave; the most noticeable detail, however, was definitely his face: perfectly round, characterized by small and dark eyes and two soft cheeks, was animated by a smile so cheerful and serene to make you feel happy just by looking at him.
Still too confused to do something the boy stood motionless, staring at the stranger who was getting closer and closer, and when he found him few steps far from himself he heard him speak.
«Welcome, Jack».
After a quick reasoning Jack asked: «Are... are you the Man in the Moon?».
«Yes, Jack. I was waiting for you» quietly replied the other.
Unable to hold himself back the boy exclaimed: «You, you're the Man in the Moon! You are my creator! I wanted to meet you since a really long time! Why haven't you ever spoken to me before? I had so many things to ask... Wait, did you say you were waiting for me? Why were you?».
The Man in the Moon laughed softly to that enthusiastic interrogation and commented: «Oh, Jack, you're exactly how you look like: full of energy and unable to hold yourself back. I bet that, if I let you talk, you would go on for hours and hours, am I wrong? So many questions... and so little time: we can't afford to waste time in silly chatter. Come on, I want to show you something».
Slightly dumbfounded at being cut off in that way, Frost fell silent and came after his interlocutor, following him along a meandering path which circumvented the small craters on the surface of what, by now, he had guessed was the moon, and then down a winding stair which dived into the ground.
In few minutes the two reached a large rectangular hall, blinding bright thanks to the glittering dust which covered every surface and to the glass vaulted ceiling, and it took a while to the boy to figure out that the structures which supported it were not trees, but columns: thin and elongated, they dug in the ground with tentacles very similar to roots and, at the top, they split into dozens of appendages resembling branches, which were intertwined one into one the others to form small slices from which the light penetrated.
Intrigued Jack was about to get close and touch them, eager to find out what material they were made of, but the Man in the Moon called him back.
«Come on, Jack: here is what I wanted to show you».
Guiding him down the central aisle he brought him to a higher platform on which stood a perfect reproduction of the Earth: identical every inch to Pitch' Globe it was, instead, milky white and it shined with lights of many colours.
«As you can see, Jack, I own a Globe, too» explained the man; «However, compared to the Guardians' one, it's much more sophisticated. You will have undoubtedly spotted that, instead of the classic single-colour lights, here they are of various types. Each of them is a child who believes in one of you: red symbolizes North, pink Toothiana, green Bunnymund, gold Sandman and blue, of course, you. As you've surely noticed the blue, at this moment, is the predominant colour, and no wonder it is: you are the great novelty and of course, since I appointed Guardian just few months ago, I took care to make the children of the world know you, inducing Sandman to send them dreams about your jokes and evoking snow where the infants wanted it but you couldn't come. Now, however, look at your friends' lights: they are not numerous and not very intense, and, above all, they're not stable. They remain switched on for few hours, then they turn off, sometimes even for days, then they come back on, but only for a little: children who believe in them are increasingly standoffish, and this, in the long run, will weaken them».
Jack stared aghast those little, pulsating lights, feeling a pang in knowing that, for each he saw switch off, a Guardian was losing power and risking to disappear, and he demanded: «Why is this happening? Why have children become so standoffish? In the past they weren't like this, I'm sure: I perfectly remember they spent whole days talking about the gifts they would have found under the Christmas tree or eggs they would have sought on Easter Sunday. What does distract them so much? And why didn't you intervene?».
The interlocutor laughed softly and said: «Jack, do you think that I'm here just for you, and that my purpose is promoting you? It's your responsibility to make sure that children believe in you, not mine: if you don't manage to it simply means that you are not suited to the role that I assigned you, or, alternatively, that the world no longer needs you. However, you must consider that the four Guardians have been existing for centuries and that they've been selected by me with great care, so it's not possible that, all of a sudden, they lost all their abilities: the explanation for what is happening is different. This generation of children is victim of a world in which everything has a scientific explanation, in which growing as quickly as possible is the primary goal, in which making dubious experiences is more important than dreaming: it's a generation disenchanted, bored, devoid of any curiosity and of parents' help. More and more frequently, in fact, adults are too absorbed in their commitments and concerns to notice their children: in order to ease their lives they leave them abandoned to themselves and take no interest in them, occasionally asking them the results they achieved in school or in sports and being absent for the rest of the time, no realizing the beautiful moments they keep losing, nor the childhood they deny their babies. Children like these have no hope for themselves, they don't feel any wonder for what surrounds them, they have no memories worthy to be remembered, nor dreams which encourage them to try to realize themselves: they live hand to mouth, chasing ephemeral desires and withdrawing into themselves».
The boy, who initially had been appalled by the other's arrogant and aloof attitude, was shocked by the revelation and interjected him: «But that's terrible! What can we do to prevent all children become like this? If our powers don't work we have no way to help them!».
«You can't» simply said the Man in the Moon; «There's nothing you can do to save yourself. It's for this reason that I decided to appoint a new Guardian, whose task will be tearing the humans off from their catatonic state, mending the relationships which have been broken or which didn't even ever exist and make the kids happy again and open to experiences more suitable to them».
Frost's eyes lit up when he heard that proposal and he exclaimed, overexcited: «Oh, a new Guardian, seriously? It's a great idea! What will they symbolize? When will you appoint them? But, above all, who will be? The groundhog, by any chance? Because if you choose him I'm afraid you'll have to help Bunnymund recover from the news!».
The man chuckled and commented: «Always ready to joke, is it not so, Jack? No, it won't be the groundhog, nor anyone of the immortal spirits who already inhabit the Earth: none of them is suitable for this task».
Confused the boy asked: «How are you going to appoint a new Guardian without picking them up among the spirits which already exist? Will you choose a human being and transform them as you did with me?».
«Don't be silly, Jack» contested the Man in the Moon; «I didn't choose to make you die, nor to transform you into an immortal being before you saved your sister. Anyway, this is no the time to ramble: no, I will not act as you said, but in a different way. It's for this reason that I called you. Now, hurry up and take off your hoodie».
Taken aback by the absurd request Jack startled and, chuckling nervously, he demanded: «Why should I take it off?».
The man, who all the while had kept his eyes on the Globe, sighed wearily and answered: «I knew you'd give me problems: you're a guy too rebellious and independent to understand that, in certain situations, you should obey without questioning. I don't have time for your whims: you asked for it, Jack».
Without leaving the guy the time even to react he raised his left arm and snapped his fingers, stubbornly his back at him: at that sound hundreds of thin strands of light sprang out of the floor and the surrounding columns, swiftly rushing towards Frost and twisting around his limbs. In the attempt to break free the boy stepped back, writhing to escape the grip, but, faster than lightning, the ropes tightened, definitely immobilizing him and forcing him to his knees, with his back bent and his legs spread.
Raising the head the boy shouted: «Why did you tie me!? What are you gonna do to me?».
The Man in the Moon, finally, turned around, showing a compassionate and touched look, and he murmured: «Oh, Jack, do not worry: it's just for children' sake. Now I will help you to relax».
Advancing with little steps he approached him, a wide smile on his chubby face to calm him, then he put a hand on his head and began to fondle him, ruffling his hair and then going down along the cheek and the jugular. All those thoughtful gestures, however, didn't turn out to be reassuring for Jack at all: the mere proximity of that being whose real intentions he didn't know upset him, his fat and sticky fingers made him be a cold sweat, his slimy touch made him shiver with terror, his hot breath nauseated him and, in general, the whole situation disgusted him in the depths. He couldn't even bear the idea to be next to him, and the fact that the man was cuddling him did nothing but make the experience even more unsettling and disturbing: those short and stubby phalanges were too different from Pitch's tapered ones, the ability with which they managed to stroke his neck's most sensitive spots worrisome and source of growing anxiety, and the fact that, at any moment, they could decide to go even further down cause of disgust and fear.
With the strength born of desperation the boy regained a minimum of audacity and tried to bite the other, then he cried: «Don't you dare to touch me!».
The man, who had deftly dodged the attack, slapped him hard enough to cut his lip, then he grabbed his chin and, fixing his terrible black eyes in his victim's ones, he mocked him: «You like biting, Jack, don't you? I know what you do with Pitch... but I, unfortunately for you, I'm not Pitch. Do you want to complicate things? So be it».
After giving him a backhander, even stronger than the first, to stun him, he placed his palm over his bleeding mouth and evoked a tight gag, enjoying with a smile the silence he obtained; further stretching the ropes which trapped his arms he brought him back with his spine straight, while continuing to force him to his knees, then he bent down and hastily lifted his hoodie and vest.
At that gesture Frost started to panic: what was happening was so absurd to seem unreal. He didn't know why he was there, why the Man in the Moon had chosen him, for what he had chosen him, why he was acting in this way and, above all, what he was going to do. When he felt his sweaty fingertips touching his stomach he screamed against the unknown fabric which prevented him from speaking, but when he perceived them descending decidedly he almost fainted: terrified he tried to wriggle free, without succeeding to, but, just when he was sure he would have felt them going down to violate him, they stopped, dangerously close to the groin, but not in contact with it.
Frozen on the spot, as if, in that way, he could also prevent the other to move, the boy waited, trembling with fear; the man, however, didn't take a long time: in few seconds he firmly pressed his right hand on his lower belly, slightly digging into his flesh, then he draw him towards himself with his left arm, hiding his face against his neck.
«You will be the one who'll give birth to the new Guardian, Jack: only in this way they will be able to acquire all the powers they will need» he murmured directly into his ear.
Jack immediately felt a strong heat in the lower part of his abdomen that soon pervaded him, taking away all his strength and stealing him a soft whine; when the other stepped back, leaving him without support, he couldn't stand by himself and bent down, letting his head hanging down and trying to focus on what was in front of him: with great difficulty he finally managed to, but, as soon as he succeeded, he wished to be blind.
His body, which had all along been skinny and thin, was deformed by a bulge which should have never belonged to it: a bump, small and compact, but equally wrong, softened the lines of his hips, so sweet, and yet so terrible.
Opening wide his irises full of tears the boy began to tremble, looking up at the Man in the Moon as to ask for an explanation of that horror, but in reply he received only a satisfied and derisive grin. Now out of his mind he screamed, writhing to break the ropes which imprisoned him and to flee away him who seemed to be nothing but a deviant abductor: he pulled and pulled, harder and harder, putting even more effort in it when he saw the man approaching to touch him, and, when he was only an inch away from his skin, he managed to break free.
Shouting he fell for several meters, landing on a cold and sandy surface, but when he opened his eyes he had closed in the rush to escape, he realized he was again in the tundra he had personally taken care to cover with snow. Bewildered and confused he postponed to a later time the scanning of the landscape, and instead he hastened to lift up his hoodie and vest, to check the status of his belly; with great surprise he saw that it hadn't changed at all: it was flat, as it had always been, and the hint of abs was not covered by any grotesque bump. As he rubbed his palms on it, as if to make sure it was really okay, he noticed that his lips were no longer cut and the taste of blood wasn't permeating his mouth, and he gasped, dumbfounded: how could those wounds have healed so quickly, since he hadn't taken any medicine?
More and more perplexed he turned his head, to look at the satellite where the disfigurement had been fulfilled, but, to his astonishment, he didn't find it: the sky was perfectly clear and the stars were the only things which lit it up.
Holding his head in his hands Frost laid on the ground and tried to reason: how could he have been able to visit the moon if this was on the other side of the Earth? Maybe had the man who lived there troubled himself to retrieve him and take him back there again, once they had concluded the meeting? It was impossible: the boy was sure he had seen the satellite just before he had found himself on it. Maybe had the other moved it at a later stage, using a spell? No, not even that was possible: he would have needed an immense power to accomplish such a task. Therefore, had it all been just a dream, or, rather, a nightmare?
Covering his face with his hands, as if to hide himself, the boy agreed that it was the only possible answer: he had never visited the moon, he had never met the man who lived there, nor, least of all, he had been tortured by him. Reflecting better, however, a new doubt occurred to him: who could have sent him visions so shocking? Sandman, as the creator of sweet dreams, was regardless ruled out; Pitch, moreover, was an equally improbable candidate: no doubt he was perfectly capable to cause nightmares to anyone, but why should he have attacked the very person he loved? Maybe those gruesome scenes had been sent to someone else, and Frost had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Yet even that explanation didn't make sense: the Boogeyman would have never been so cruel to send such a nightmare to an infant.
Curling up on himself Jack tried not to think, loosening the tension which had gripped him for several minutes and relaxing every muscle, and finally he managed to conceive the only possible solution to the enigma: Sandy's golden sand and Pitch's black one should have met and mixed together, struggling to prevail one over the other, but failing, thus giving life to a dream one of a kind, tender and reassuring at times, but creepy and disturbing at others.
Having finally dispelled the panic the boy stood up, retrieving with difficulty his staff, which was still hanging from the branch on which he had perched, then he got ready to leave: he was no longer worried about what he had seen, but he preferred to ask for confirmation to the two spirits concerned.
Recalling the cold northern winds he took off, heading to the west to look for Sandman and smiling at the thought of Pitch: with no doubt the man, hearing the terrible story which he had experienced, would have come to his rescue, comforting him with sweet sentences, hugging him and gently petting him. As always, Frost would have been free to ask him what he wanted most and the Boogeyman would have acquiesced to all his requests: he would have combed his perpetually ruffled hair with his fingers, he would have scratched the back of his head, he would have kissed his face, mouth and neck, he would have massaged his legs and, finally, he would have gently caressed his abdomen, personally checking that nothing was disfiguring it.
Sighing the boy focused on the memories which had pervaded him and the sensations which, shortly thereafter, he would have felt: he desperately needed to lie down beside the man he loved, accept his demonstrations of affection and fall asleep in his arms, dispelling the last shreds of that horrendous experience with golden dreams.
With these thoughts firmly fixed into his mind he freed more power from his staff, increasing the speed of the wind he was travelling on, and without any fear of falling he quickly flew over the ocean, chasing the sun to finally sleep.
I hope you liked this first chapter! Just to make things clear: "my" Man in the Moon is not a beast. He surely behaved in a cruel way, but he did that for a reason. Please notice that I'm not justifying his attitude, but just saying you don't know all the story yet, nor his real thoughts or how he perceive the situation. In chapter 10 there will be a part described from his point of view, where you'll surely manage to understand him better, but feel free to ask me whatever you want.
Next chapter will be published on Saturday. From now on I'll publish once a week, generally on Saturday, and I'll do this both to be regular and to make you become accustomed to my normal pace. Before I can translate, in fact, I need to write the story in italian, and generally it takes me from seven to twelve days, depending on how busy I am, so you can easily understand it would be pretty stupid rushing and updating every three days, and then disappearing for two weeks or more. Moreover, even if I'm satisfied by the fact I managed to translate the first fanfiction pretty quickly, I have to admit that keeping that pace has somewhen been difficult for me and tired me, especially during this month when I had (and still have) exams, and, since I have more exams in September, it's better for me not to run and take things more slow, also making sure to translate in advance in order to have some chapters in reserve and not feel under pressure.
See you on Saturday!