Hold on to What you Believed in the Light

In the shadows, he clings to the dulled, dented, cracked metal that is his locket. He caresses it, whispers to it; it's his rosary, his salvation. A nightmare knickers, red eyes glowing, white teeth gleaming. He doesn't waver from his mantra. "Please, please, please," he murmurs to the cold metal. "Don't hurt her." Shaking, he begs, "Let her go."

"Papa! Papa! Save me Papa!" a voice of long ago screams, but to Pitch, it's as if he's there again. He can feel the dirt beneath his boots, hear the clanging against the enchanted metal that holds back the fear, sees the desolate gray that bleeds from the shadow-beings into the world, taste the sweat that accumulates on his upper lip. He feels the fear that throbs in his beating chest. A high wail rises in the stagnant air. "PAPA!"

"NO!" he roars, up on his feet, trembling with fears that are not his, but those of who he was. Somewhere, the same nightmare neighs (it's laughing, it laughing at you, you pathetic fool!). "Shut up!" he howls at the beast, but it's gone and evaporated into the shadows.

When silence reigns, Pitch sighs and collapses to his knees. Eyes darting around the dark, he waits and watches for the shadows to move. However, they don't. Hoping that he's alone for the moment, he slips his ragged, dirty nail between the crevice of the locket and opens it. He stares fondly at the photo it holds. There's a girl with dark hair and eyes, gazing back serenely at him; her lips are curved up in a way he knows is just for him. "Mine..." he breathes. A tear plinks against the metal edge. Wiping it away quickly, he mumbles, "You were mine..."

"Who was yours, Pitch?"

The Boogeyman startles back, eyes wide and surprised to see Mother Nature a matter of a yard from him.

"How–" he starts, but with a smirk, Mother Nature is quick to talk over him.

"I have my ways," she says.

Pitch is silent for a moment, scrutinizing the woman. "Why, then," he asks instead.

The smirk becomes something more razor like (like yours, his mind whispers). "I have come to release you." Looking away, she adds, "Again."

"I've never asked you to," Pitch reminds her.

Flicking back a strand of ebony hair, she rolls her shoulders. "Not in so many words, no," she agrees.

Scowling, Pitch crosses his arms. "Let's try not ever," he all but growls.

Feigning hurt, Mother Nature brings delicate, vine-green fingers to her heart. "Come now, Pitch." She pouts. "Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?"

Some of the spark leaves Pitch. "I deserve this," he murmurs.

Taking a step closer, Mother Nature frowns. "Why ever do you think that?"

"I released the fear," he answers, and after a beat, he whispers to himself, "and I lied to her."

Yet, even so, Mother Nature hears.

Eyes a mirror of Pitch's pain, Mother Nature sighs. "She understood why, she wouldn't have let you leave if you told the truth."

Pitch stares at her. "How do you know what I speak of?" he inquires after a bout of silence.

Mother Nature gives him one of those infuriating smirks. "I have my ways Pitch Black, I'm not a 'mother' for nothing."

Pitch glowers at her, he doesn't like to think someone else knows more about her than he does. "I don't trust you," he tells her.

Something sad and accepting comes over the woman's face. "I understand," she sighs. Offering her hand, she implores, "But won't you believe me when I tell you I have come to help?"

Pitch, after a moment of deliberation, puts his gray-tinged fingers in her green ones. "You rescued me once, I can't think of a reason why you wouldn't do it again," he mutters.

She smiles again, but it's softer this time–loving–but, no, that can't be right. No one, not even Mother Nature, can love fear.

"Let us leave," she whispers and, suddenly, they are in the night-darkness, with the moon and stars to light the world around them. She lets go of his hand and takes a step into the forest surrounding them. "Remember," she whispers, "don't get caught."

Watching her disappear into the trees, Pitch doesn't say anything until he knows her gone. Gaze turning to the moon, he doesn't look away as he murmurs, "I know."

He stays there for a while, but, then, something in the westward wind tugs at him. Beckons him. Melting into the shadows, Pitch goes with it, not knowing and not caring what calls him.

Coming out from her hiding place behind a tree, Mother Nature meanders to the spot the Nightmare King stood, staring at it, she sighs. "Oh Papa."

Wouldn't it be sad if Pitch remembered his daughter, but didn't recognize her as Mother Nature? And Mother Nature doesn't dare tell him because she doesn't think he'll believe her? I think it would, so here we are.

Thank you all for reading this and I hope you'll take the time to review! :)

EDITED: 1/24/15