Jack was incoherent with his high fever for his entire stay in the lair. Pitch took it as a blessing that no one would ever know he played nurse made to Jack Frost, even Jack himself. When he thought about it, the lengths he went through for the child were more than humiliating. He hugged and rocked the boy after setting – and often re-breaking – his bones, sat by the boy and stroked his hair through fever-induced nightmares the Boogeyman had no control over, cleaned his wound, washed his soiled clothing. He would deny to the ends of the earth that he babied the child and practically had a heart attack at any lapse in the boy's labored breathing.
But, he could lie to himself: a small part of him enjoyed taking care of the frost boy. For once he was a source of comfort rather than fear, a foreign but not entirely unpleasant feeling. He was unsure what triggered such a parental response to the boy, but the truth was, he loved having the boy around. Loved the way Jack would cuddle into him in his sleep, seeming perfectly content in Pitch's arms. He enjoyed running his fingers through baby soft white hair while he wipe sweat from the boy's brow, and simply talking to Jack, even if he was incapable of talking back, and more than likely couldn't hear him. But, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.
It took three weeks before Jack's fever finally broke. For a fleeting moment, the thought crossed his mind to let Jack stay; to let him know that Pitch had cared for him over the weeks. That he wasn't utterly alone in the world. He pushed the idea almost as quickly as he thought of it. His reputation couldn't handle the blow of him actually caring for a child. Besides, Jack would never stay.
With the decision made, he held Jack in his arms through the night, making sure the fever was truly broken and keeping the Nightmares away. As dawn broke, he realized that he would miss the feel of Jack in his arms, and the way the boy curled into him in his sleep. He shook the feeling away and lifted Jack into his arms as he moved them through the shadows, headed for the Artic. Pitch set the boy gently on the ice, brushing a blanket of snow over his form after making sure there were no bandages or any other sign that another person had been there throughout his recovery. He brushed the boy's bangs out of his sleeping face, and resisted the urge to place a kiss on his brow. Shaking his head at his own foolish actions, Pitch sank through the shadows back to his lonely lair.
-Line Break – Line Break – Line Break-
Jack was groggy when he awoke, staring at the snowy Artic landscape in confusion. How's he gotten there? Last he remembered he was…...
It all came rushing back. Hiding from the other spirits and their twisted game, taking refuge in the caves of New Zealand. So scared; why were they doing this, why did they hate him, what had he done? Being found: Karma. Oh god, pain, so much pain, why why why, help, please! Lily; being left broken and bleeding in the cave, begging, help help please. And after that….nothing. He must have dragged himself to Antarctica, even in his ruined physical and mental condition. Jack slowly sat up, bringing his knees to his chest in distress. No one, no one had helped him. They'd seen him, seen what their game led to, he'd begged Lily for help, and still they'd left him. He swallowed down despair and checked himself over. Everything seemed to be in the right order; his bones were all straight, his wounds were closed – scarred over, but closed – he was whole.
He stared down at his hands as he ran them over his staff. He could have sworn he remembered a voice. A smooth voice soothing him, comforting hands running through his hair, seeing a face in the dark, and feeling safe even if he didn't recognize who it was…. must have been dreaming. Yeah, he didn't want to be abandoned and forced to take care of himself, so he made up someone to take care of him. Jeez, talk about pathetic.
Jack shook his head, dislodging the snow from his hair, and climbed shakily to his feet. His legs were practically jelly after so long lying down, but they managed to hold him. He sighed, longing for the imagined arms to hold him and comfort him and took to the sky. He still had a job to do; it was not the time for self- pity and dreams. He gave another sigh and followed the pull of Winter to the south.
One thing for sure, he wasn't going to just take the beating any more. It wasn't worth it. The next time those spirits came anywhere near him, he would show them just how great it felt to be beaten to a bloody pulp. No more Mr. Nice Guy.
-Line Break – Line Break—Line Break-
Pitch watched the boy fly off, unable to just leave the boy in the frozen wasteland. Even if Jack wasn't aware of him, it made the shadow spirit feel better knowing he hadn't fully abandoned the boy. Just a little. He'd felt an ache in his arms when Jack had come to his senses, remembering everything that had been done to him and left to think he'd been left alone to suffer. He'd wanted to rush forward and scoop the boy up, take him back home and protect him from the world. What. Was. Wrong. With. Him?!
The best thing to be done was to head back to the lair and forget everything. Forget about Jack, and the strange feeling the boy had stirred within him. Something he already had a feeling was going to be next to impossible.