A/N: hello again! wow, so um, I seem to be getting a lot of plot bunnies lately - this one the most serious, especially after shiny teeth! I was talking to my friend (again) about how cool it would be to have a nightmare!jack (and nightmare!jack vs. jack) like in Kingdom Hearts. So that idea sort of just bloomed in my head and this was written because of it, heh! As much as I love Jack, the idea of a dark!jack just fascinated me (not to mention the amount of fanart for it ksfdjsd). Annnnd yeah, idea stuck so I just sort of went with it? So I thought I'd throw another thing into this fandom - just a heads up: bits of tooth/jack because they've honestly ruined me.
So viola!
Disclaimer: if I was Dreamworks I would be receiving therapy bills from me (aka, I do not own ROTG)
OH CAN YOU FEEL IT COMING?
o1
A soft crackle echoed across the sleepy harbor front, the morning dawn's first rays catching the light dusting of white. Like water seeping through cloth, frost appeared over wood and stone, the entire dock soon covered in the intricate patterns of silver. And if you had more than a little faith, you would have seen the white haired boy lazily hopping from mast to mast of the hibernating sailboats, the frigid Atlantic rolling under the pressing November air.
The small town off of the coast of Maine was silent as Jack Frost passed through, his hood pulled up over his head and one hand tucked safely in his pocket. A flurry of snowflakes blew in from the ocean beyond, but the Northern wind was otherwise quiet. It would seem that the entire coast was content to stay in peaceful slumber for a few hours more. Jack smiled to himself, spinning delicately on his foot to fully face the town just past the marina. He breathed out a breath of chilled air; content to watch the rays of light spark off his newest creation. As much as he enjoyed the thrill of an encroaching blizzard, there was something so calming about the break of dawn over a horizon of white.
His staff swooped in idle circles as his fingers absently played with the ancient wood; he'd have to leave soon, Scotland was due for a cold snap and Denmark was close behind. Not to mention he had promised Tooth a visit after telling the fairy that she was due for a break, teasingly pointing out that she worked too hard.
"Ha-hey! don't look at me like that, Tooth! Even Baby Tooth agrees with me, don't you?"
"And what do you suppose I do, Jack? Fly off with you to Antarctica while Baby Tooth takes charge?"
"I was thinking more Aconcagua, actually."
And with a flash of a toothy smile, he had been able to con that colourful tooth fairy into agreeing with only some reluctance. In the mountains of Argentina, Jack vowed a great adventure ("They'll be no penguins this time, I swear"), and her laughter had warmed him more than he'd care to admit.
A cold breeze lifted the hair inside his hood, forcing him out of his thoughts and to the warning the wind whispered to him. The boats creaked eerily underneath their tarps and holdings, and a chill ran down Jack's spine; odd, since he didn't shiver from the cold anymore.
With a frown, the Guardian leapt from his perch and glided with ease to the docks, unnaturally balanced among the icy planks. The Northern wind became more insistent in his ear, whistling through the air and tugging at his blue hoodie. The peaceful town no longer held its slumbering charm, and the snow lifted off in spurts as the wind brushed over the rooftops. Jack felt a growing uneasiness rise within him as he listened, the wind urging him to investigate beyond the town's border and into the dark forest that circled the outskirts. Straightening his shoulders, Jack jumped easily into the sky, the wind effortlessly picking him up in its wake.
Jack silently flew past houses and trees, and much unlike his regular whooping and tumbling antics, he was uncharacteristically somber. His eyes kept flickering towards the rising sun every so often, the sun now blotting out the moon's presence in the brightening sky. He ducked into the forest, now lightly tinted in frost and snow, and his feet hit the ground in a run. Gripping his staff tight, Jack felt that nagging sensation again, as if something was wrong. It bothered him that he didn't know what: Pitch? A rogue earthly spirit or perhaps Bunnymund finally reaping his revenge for '68? Although the thought made him smile, it seemed rather unlikely.
But it was here, whatever it was.
After a few tense moments of nothing but silence, Jack grew more anxious as he tread further into the forest. The lack of animals only deepened his suspicions.
"Whoever you are, show yourself!" Jack's voice cut through the forest without reply and he reached up to yank his hood off of his head. He waited, spinning swiftly on his heel to regard the entirety of the woods. After moments more of silence, Jack opened his mouth to speak when he heard it.
It sounded like a child's laugh – much too high to be that of an adult's – but also much too alienated to be considered normal. It made the hair on his arms stand on end. Jack swallowed thickly, his eyes locking into the distance where the laughter had abruptly stopped. Hesitant but still determined, the winter spirit took off in a sprint that pulled him into the air, and he bounced from branch to branch in one swift movement before landing meters away.
The air was thick with an intangible smell of something burning, and Jack wrinkled his noise although there was no smoke to be seen. There it was again, the laughter, still distant and eerie among the shadowy trees. It became clear to Jack that whoever he was dealing with, they appeared to be playing some sort of twisted game with him. The realization made him frown, unaccustomed and annoyed to be the victim of such a joke, in which he believed to be Pitch's doing. He transferred his staff to his other hand, straightening from his crouched pose as he spoke.
"Haha, very funny." He said with little humour, "But I don't play unless I know my opponent." Another echo of laughter, this time much closer than before. Jack whirled, his staff humming beneath his fingers with anticipation. Something about that laugh seemed all too familiar to him –
Wham!
Jack's head rocked forward as something hard smacked him on the back of his neck. Eyes wide, it took a moment of surprise to realize what had hit him. The tell tale feeling of ice and snow slithered down his hoodie and onto his back. A snowball? The irony was not lost on him.
He whipped around, unsure what to expect, and felt like he had been plunged through the ice once more. A boy with dark black hair, pale gold eyes and a wicked grin stared back at him, his body lazily leaning against a crooked staff. All the nerves in Jack's body jumped as if electrocuted, while the other boy's head cocked at a sharp angle to regard him. He continued to stare, the air in his lungs suddenly gone and replaced with a fear he had never quite felt before.
It was as if someone had taken his own reflection and inverted his appearance.
"Boo." The figure unnervingly repeated Pitch's words and he flinched; his voice all too similar to his own caught in his throat. What he must be seeing was false – right?
"Y'know, I shouldn't have expected much from someone who spent most of his life invisible," The figure drawled, drawing himself up to full height. "But this is just short of embarrassing. You look as if you've seen a ghost." His face stayed unreadable, but the tone of his voice betrayed the traces of laughter.
Recovering, Jack's instincts flared back to life and he crouched into a fighting position.
"What the hell are you?"
"Ah ah, I think the better question is who are you. But then again, that should be fairly obvious, kiddo." Those pale eyes never left Jack's as he drew back from his staff; he was disturbingly similar in grace and composure. Jack ground his teeth together.
"If this is Pitch's idea of a joke, you can tell him it's not funny."
The other "Jack" laughed and stepped lightly to the left, nonplussed by the staff Jack pointed at him with infuriating ease. He circled Jack with exaggerated open arms, much too comfortable for Jack's liking.
"Ouch, I'll try not to be offended - I thought you'd be flattered?"
Jack snorted. "Right."
"However, I'll admit, I thought the black sweater was a bit much myself." He flicked at the drawstrings of his own hoodie, a mocking smirk playfully flitting across his features. "Though, having met you now, I might be swayed."
"Perhaps it was the first clue that you shouldn't mess with the original."
"Well to be fair, I have to say I wear it better, don't you think?"
Jack ignored this, "So you're with Pitch." He stated flatly. The other him shrugged as if considering it.
"What do you think?"
"You're a fearling."
This time the dark haired boy flashed him a smile that would have made Tooth swoon had it been ten times friendlier. "I prefer to think of myself as special," He continued with an innocent purr, "Like a special snowflake, or is that too cliché, even for you?"
The white haired Guardian pretended he felt more comfortable then he did, growing more and more disturbed by the minute. The wind whistled above his shoulder, feeding his anxiety and reminding him he wasn't in some dream. "What, horsey one and two not cutting it anymore?" He moved a tactical distance away from the other; "black Jack" quickly recovered this distance.
"Perhaps,"
"Great." Jack deadpanned.
Black Jack tilted his head to the side and stopped his round about. "For someone who's so incredibly insecure, you realize you read more like an open book." His voice changed. "Tell me, am I so easily read as well?"
Jack leapt into action. With a spark of white, Jack lunged at what he supposed to be a cleverly designed fearling, a cry coming from his lips. What was left in the other boy's place was nothing but air, however, and Jack twisted his face upwards to see the black haired Jack laughing from the branches of a bare oak.
"Did I strike a nerve? I was warned that you were rather impulsive; a trait I dare say I did not inherit." He said conversationally before jumping into an attack of his own. Jack was surprised to learn that this other Jack's staff carried the same voltage of ice and snow, but smelled of burnt kindling upon delivery. Jack avoided the blow in one smooth motion, sending another flare of ice towards his opponent.
"So what's it now? Pitch finally perfected the master fearling formula?" Jack hissed as he rounded on his counterpart, now on the ground and dishing out a handful of darkly tinted frost; it cascaded across the forest floor like oil.
"No."
"No?"
"I never said I was working for Pitch – you instigated that, my friend."
Jack gave the boy a confused look before sending another blast of cold air at him, his staff deflecting the blow skillfully.
"I'm not a fearling."
Jack grunted, the trees shedding their accumulated snow as they continued their finely timed dance.
The other boy continued as if he had spoken, "Since I should be honest – you're like family after all –perhaps I should tell you." He regarded Jack for an infuriating moment, tapping a finger against his chin with over-exaggerated thoughtfulness. Jack sent another wind of ice and frost his way, the sound making a distinct crackling echo in the quiet forest. The other boy swiftly ducked. "Demanding, aren't we?" There was that laugh again. "Hey, ho, I wasn't created by Pitch. In fact," He finished in a sing-song voice, "You did, Jack."
Jack could only laugh, albeit a bit shakily, at this confession. "Me?" He sent another blast at him – it missed and went straight into the woods. "You are not my creation – unless you see yourself as an overgrown snowball."
"Don't be so surprised – everyone has darkness within them - it just turns out that you have something different than the rest. And by that, I mean me." He gestured to all of himself. "Three hundred years of suppressed memories, loneliness, anger and angst-ridden teenage thoughts are all here, at your service." He paused. "Well, not at your service." A flick of frost lightning made Jack jump back, not without getting nicked.
"You are not-"
"And still such a boy," The other Jack cut in, his pale eyes alight with malice. "Still dead."
Jack felt his body stiffen. That slight hesitation allowed his opponent to move in quicker than Jack himself, a blow of ice throwing him against a towering white oak and his head hit the trunk with a crack. Jack let out a groan as he slunk down, his head in a dizzying spin. His mind cleared enough to urge him to reach for his staff, which had fallen by his side. His hand was too late, however, and he felt the numbing sensation of ice – he hadn't felt the cold in three hundred years – curl around his wrist. He blinked, his eyes suddenly growing tired as black seemed to chase away the brightening morning.
"G-good shot- " He choked out, winded. He squinted his eyes, hoping to get a glimpse of his darker ganger. He heard a soft clucking noise, breathy laughter following.
"Just give in, Jack." The voice said, surprisingly soft. "I know you want this -to just give in just this once, to not battle it through – that's it – breathe." Jack couldn't understand why he was shutting down, or why he was letting it. This dark version of him was starting to sound so much like Pitch he felt as if he had vertigo.
The dark figure bent down next to Jack, a smile tugging at its lips. He traced an idle finger through the shallow snow, regarding the other boy. After a brief pause, he looked down at his staff, the wind howling and picking up bits of snowflakes in retaliation for the treatment towards its ward.
"Oh pipe down," The black haired boy frowned before plucking Jack's staff. At his touch, the staff vibrated with energy before it changed to a darker shade, the ice implements turning a sickly sheen of off white. The smile widened and he laughed.
"Now that you're otherwise detained, I believe I have some friends to visit, hm?" The nightmare said pleasantly, swinging his eyes back up to Jack who flinched at his words. "I'm doing this for us, Jack." And for a moment, his voice carried sincerity. "After three hundred years, you couldn't honestly believe that things would change so drastically and blissfully? No, I'm saving us, you." Jack was able to pry one eye open, his teeth locked together in a pained expression. He felt a curl of dread match the underlying fear of his words. The other boy stood up.
"That doesn't mean of course, that I can't have some fun in the meantime, right?" Stop, Jack numbly thought. "As it were, you are called the Guardian of Fun?" Don't you dare.
"Pitch was right in one aspect," He murmured, kicking Jack's staff far from him and burying it deep within the snow; the wind bristled and whipped through the trees in protest. "The darkness demands to be noticed."
And with that, he was gone, leaving a struggling Jack to fight against a wave of unconsciousness.
The cages suspended up above rattled, breaking the weak legend from his reverie. He narrowed his eyes as he felt the familiar chill fill the shadows around him, his mouth pulled down in an unfriendly leer.
"Come to boast, boy?" The boogeyman's eyes drifted towards the source of the draft, hidden beneath the cloak of darkness. "I'll remind you that you are not welcome," He stopped abruptly from his tirade as his eyes trailed downwards. A path of frost had spilled across the stone towards him.
Pitch stared as the frost produced slick patterns of black and silver, entwined and shining in the dim light. Slowly, his head rose to see the shadow move from the darkness, the black hood pulled up loosely over his dark hair. His staff, black as charred wood and seemingly spindled with shimmering white rope, was slung casually over his shoulder.
"Boast? No. Instead I have a question for you," The boy raised his face so that Pitch could see the similar pale eyes. "Tell me, what is black and white and smells of retribution?"
A/N: cue the dramatic music, right? so what do you think? y/n? reviews are always welcomed - helps a girl with motivation, tbh. catch you on the flip side!