Jack could finally kick his feet up and relax on the sleigh ride home with the knowledge that he was now believed in by others. Something he had always thought would never happen, but dreamed of every day of his life. Now he finally found peace within himself throughout all those years.
Jack looked up at Man in the Moon with wondrous blue eyes. "Alright, world," he said to the open sky without a care. "I'm ready for anything you throw at me." He really shouldn't have said that...
A week went by. Then, two.
Jack ended up visiting each of the Guardians' dwellings often. He would do this in the hopes of creating a bond with the four of them.
Tooth Palace was tranquil, listening to the soft flutter of Baby Tooths' buzzing into the skies. The beautiful Tooth Fairy and her feathered array of colours danced around joyfully as usual, assuring every fairy completed their tooth collecting tasks flawlessly. Occasionally, she would stop and chat with Jack. And bit too closely…but he didn't mind.
The Warren wasn't ideal for Frost, but he visited Bunny as much as he could without making either one of them feel uncomfortable; he always gave the fuzzy, petulant rabbit his space, and held back every remark to poke fun at Bunny's toothpick-legged egg friends. Ultimately, they ended up enjoying each other's company for a little while.
Although Jack was slightly displeased that he wasn't able to visit The Sandman's kingdom of dreams in person, Sandy helped him out by putting him to sleep so that he may experience it through his mind's eye. It was a wonderland of amber silt, and slumber. It felt as if he were lucid-dreaming, interacting with a new world—almost like a different planet floating somewhere off in the cosmos.
The Workshop was ultimately Jack's favourite place to relax, holding many memories of when he first stepped foot into that beloved toy factory. It was warm on the inside with a hint of gingerbread and sugar cookies jumping around in the air, and the comfortably freezing tundra of the North Pole on the outside; very cozy for Jack Frost.
The clanking of metallic contraptions, the muttering of busy Yetis, and the soft jingle-jangle of the tiny, rambunctious elves echoed across the openness to the high ceiling. North was currently up in his office having a private conversation with Tooth. Jack sat next to the window peering out to the other side.
"I wonder what they're talking about..." he said to the open air. Ever since he'd arrived, they had been talking about something, and behind closed doors. What could have been so important that they had to keep whatever they were talking about to themselves? Jack's thoughts weren't the act of nosiness, however. At the moment of his arrival of the Workshop that day, he'd felt strange, having no idea why. As if something was out of place. But nothing could have been wrong. It had been two righteous weeks with peaceful nights so far...
He stroked the glass on one corner allowing new born ice swirls to stretch across it to the other side. Peering out through the icy texture, something in the back of his mind made him want to go outside. He heeded his sudden urge and flew to the roof top's peek.
Jack tapped his staff in a rhythmic pattern along the roof as he stepped. He hummed to himself a tune his mother sang to him when he was a child. Looking up at Man in the Moon, he sighed and couldn't help but to ask, "Manny?...We won the battle. Why do I feel this way? I feel kind of...anxious, I guess." Jack looked away. "Why am I asking you this when I know you won't answer anyway?"
A voice chimed in Jack's ears just then. Could it be?
Jack looked back at Manny with eyes widened.
"Did you just—" He couldn't believe it. "No way..." But he did. He spoke to him. In over three hundred years, he finally heard his voice at last. But what he told him wasn't what Jack wanted to hear.
P...P-Pitch?" Jack stuttered. "What about him? Is he back?!"
"S..." he whispered. The rest of his words were too distorted to understand.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Sa...hi..." The voice was strongly phantom-esque, almost like listening to the song of a ghost. At first, Jack couldn't grasp what he was saying. But then, the voice pieced itself together.
"...Save him..."
"What?!" He nearly dropped his staff from shock. "Did I hear that right?—No! I can't! I can't possibly—Why would you want me to do that?! After all that he'd done?! He nearly destroyed the world and you want me to..." But then a sudden thought came to him. "Wait...What's wrong with him?"
Man in the Moon didn't say another word.
"Seriously, Manny?" He rested his staff over one shoulder and sighed. "So, something's wrong with Pitch Black…The most evil man alive." He turned around and walked the other way. "And you're telling me I need to help him out with no explanation." He continued, "Well, you know what? He deserves whatever is happening to him. I'm not lending a hand to the devil."
What Man in the Moon did next made Jack jump in fright with hair standing on end.
What sounded like a lively crack of thunder plunged the ground with a loud rumble. Jack gripped his staff tightly until his knuckles were white, and stood steadily atop the roof so he wouldn't slip. Frankly, that was one of the most sudden and surprising moments Jack Frost has ever encountered. It was almost comedic.
He rolled his eyes and sighed again. "I swear..." But there was no arguing with the being that made him what he is today. He replied sourly, "…Fine. I'll go see what's up with him—out of my own curiosity. But that's all I'm going to do."
As much as he didn't want to, Jack flew off into the night without telling anyone where he was going. It was better that way.
In search for the hole Pitch had been dragged down into, he scoped the grounds of Venice, Italy. Once the crevice was spotted, Jack stepped up to it and peered down its dark, bottomless shaft. It still gave off the feeling of dread as it had the first time he came across it. He listened hard to the sounds echoing up from down below. The distinct sound of terror-filled screams made its way up the opening to Jack Frost's ears. They gave of a notion of ghostly terror; reflecting the wails of the damned.
He stepped back a bit. For a moment he was...concerned. However, he quickly withdrew from the feeling.
"It's Pitch. Don't you dare feel that way...Just pop your head in to see what's up, then leave." Jack groaned softly and dropped into the darkness.
The cries emanated from deep inside the cave-like formation. As Jack stepped deeper inside, he could now pin-point where they were located. From afar, he could now see Pitch, but he wasn't nearly as intimidating as he was before. He was currently cowering in a corner fronting the wall, face collapsed into his hands. Equine entities surrounded him at every glance.
Quietly, he stepped through the blackness until he was about twenty feet from his target. Now being close enough for the creatures to attack, Jack gripped his staff ready for a fight. However, the nightmares proved to show great cowardice and backed away once they felt Jack Frost's presence near, but still watched dormant in the shadows.
Now with the path clear, he focused solely ahead of him inching his way closer to the infamous Pitch Black with great caution.
Pitch no longer looked like himself. It had been weeks since the nightmares had dragged him below. And now his entire body was no longer black as deep space as it was always meant to be. It had become lighter do to the excessive fright and panic he suffered, now giving off a deep silvery sheen.
Jack reached out to him, but once his fingers were close enough to graze his arm, he stopped. Dread more eminent than ever, Jack's hand shook from stress. What was he about to witness?
A sharp breath entered Jack's lungs—he swallowed his fear and grabbed for Pitch's arm. But once his hand scarcely caressed his skin, Pitch screamed and spun around to face him.
Jack's heart sunk.
The beast's golden eyes held the most torment one simple being could muster, almost like two lost souls sunken into perpetual sorrow. This was possibly what Manny meant. No one, maybe not even The Bogeyman, deserves this much misery.
"Pitch, it's okay," He took in a quivery breath. "It's okay now, I'm here. The nightmares won't come near us now. I'm not afraid of them."
There was a pause in the air.
To his surprise, Pitch Black flung himself at Jack. He wasn't even able to lift his staff in time to protect himself. Pitch's arms wrapped around Jack's shoulders, encasing him. Jack hadn't realized for several moments that what he was doing wasn't harmful. It was nothing more than a pitiful embrace.
"...Why are you here?..." Pitch's voice strained, without letting go.
"I came to save you." Even though he hadn't wanted to. But now seeing the mighty Bogeyman trembling in the fragile arms of Jack Frost made him think, maybe he needed to. "I'm going to get you away from the nightmares. I just need to get you to the surface."
The horses behind Jack stomped their hooves and trotted with ire trying to figure out a way around Jack to get to Pitch, but refused to come any closer. Pitch kept as close as he could to Jack, making their way through the red-eyed spectral wave. They guided each other all the way to the exit and up to level ground.
Once successfully on the surface, Jack, commanding Pitch to look up with him, gazed at the white shine of Moon Man.
"Take in his energy," Jack told him. Pitch slowly but surely looked up. The Man in the Moon gazed back at him. Pitch was unsure of what to say. "Just breathe."
Normally, Pitch was more than happy to avert his ears from demands. But he did as he was told, knowing that whatever Jack Frost was trying to do was better than what he'd suffered through up to that point.
The spacey blackness that was his cosmic entity—his trademark lustre—slicked back into existence. Like paint strokes on a canvas, starting from his bare feet the gloom worked its way up. His eyes were the last to change, setting back to the gilded hue they had once been. Pitch Black had transformed right before Jack's eyes in a matter of mere seconds.
"It's…" Pitch began, his voice also returning to its polished, enigmatic musk, "…quite breath-taking…Isn't it?"
"Yes," Jack agreed, but for a different reason, not taking his eyes off Pitch. "It truly is."