It was about six o'clock and the sun was just barely below the treetops, the salmon-orange glow of the sunset spreading over the slowly darkening sky. A picturesque sunset it was, indeed; but there was a tinge of nostalgia to it for Jack. He had always used to fly back to Burgess at the fall of the eve to sit upon the treetops and watch the setting of the sun. Sometimes, he'd even have Sandy or Tooth there to keep him company. It wasn't the same anymore. The same routine activity he had come to love now only left a bitter taste in his mouth, and it left a gaping hole in his heart.
He was becoming very desperate at this point, though it was a savage blow to his pride. Desperation was a pitiful thing to resort to, yet it was inevitable at this point. No matter what he did to curb the pain, the burning, searing loneliness clawed at his insides. He expected it wasn't an uncommon occurrence for one who had lived in solitude for over three hundred years.
Sighing, Jack jumped down from his spot amongst the jagged branches, touching down softly on the powder white snow that covered the ground. Judging by the position of the moon, it had to be about midnight; the town of Burgess had slowly come to a rest, the lights in every house flickering off by the time Jack had arrived. Amongst the dead of night and lurid light of the moon, Jack stood above the cold blanket of white, staring up longingly at the stars as if it would bring him solace. Any form of it, at this point, would be enough. Of course, he was not about to admit his fragility. However clear it was, he was still in denial about the whole thing. Honestly, Jack wasn't sure if it would pass, or if it was really too late. Perhaps he had waded in too deep. There was no promise for Jack anymore, and he knew it. He had accepted the fact, no matter how much it stung. Without the Guardians, unfortunately, he was no more than a lost soul.
A lost soul, indeed. He laughed bitterly.
Jack's muse came to a halt at the sound of rustling leaves and crackling branches. He froze, looking about every which-way, startled by the sound. He guessed that it was most likely an animal lurking in the brush, but he was uncertain, and when the dark of night seemed to grow darker, he knew he was wrong.
A shudder rippled down his spine as he looked around far more frantically now, nearly expecting something to burst out of the shadows and kill him. In retrospect, his prediction was not far from the truth. Gathering the small fractions of courage he had left, Jack inched slowly towards the dark shadows that were the forest, gripping the shepherd's crook tightly in his hands, not loosening his grip in the slightest. "Who's there?" He questioned as fearlessly as possible, but his voice cracked, ultimately making him sound sort of pathetic and frightened.
There was a resounding laugh that came from everywhere around yet nowhere in particular; and the next thing Jack knew, he was in utter darkness. "My dear Jack," The voice cooed, echoing around him.
"It has been a long time, has it not?"
Much to Jack's surprise and dismay, the one and only Nightmare King materialized from amidst the shadows, his yellow eyes taking on a mocking attitude as a grin creeped into his features.
Jack hated that man. More than anything, more than life itself, he hated Pitch above all else. Yet, the two were strikingly similar once the skin was shed. It was undeniably so. Jack and Pitch were destined to cross paths. And he absolutely despised the other's mere existence.
This feeling in itself was odd; Jack had never been one to hate. However, Pitch had seemed to cross all the boundaries and constantly push his limits. And, to be frank, he was getting tired of being the puppet, allowing Pitch to pull on his strings. It was only a matter of time before he would snap. Jack's patience was wearing thin. He narrowed his eyes dangerously at the darker man, taking a defensive stance.
"Pitch."
The Nightmare King simply grinned his trademark smile, crossing his arms and circling the snowflake, staring him down like a predator would to the prey. "How've you been keeping?"
Jack just glared. "Fine," He replied crossly, holding on to his defiant attitude, even though under the facade was nothing but fear. Pitch had, evidently, sensed this long ago. He laughed darkly, stopping in his tracks to gaze at Jack.
"Really, now?" He mocked. "You are not afraid of little old me, are you?"
Shaking his head, Jack balled his fists tight and clenched his jaw, feeling as though he was see-through and Pitch was well aware of every thought that flit across his mind. Of course, he was not a mind reader, yet at times, the sprite felt like an open book. But before he could think, or even breathe, Pitch was there; sandy tendrils teased about his arms, his legs, anything they could reach. Jack's breath caught in his throat and he froze, allowing his fear to set in, even if Pitch was thriving in it.
"My, Jack.. Why so frightened?" mocked Pitch, the whisper faint on his ears and the boy shuddered, hissing frustratedly. That seemed to amuse the shade as he chuckled and leaned forward, threading long grey fingers through snow white hair.
Jack's breath hitched and he froze, unmoving. Rampant thoughts raced through his mind, and he felt like he couldn't breathe. Pitch was all too close, and what bothered him the most was that somehow, he was not completely repulsed by the proximity..
Gasping, he stumbled out of Pitch's grasp, falling backwards onto the ground as he looked up at the shade with a look of pure, unadulterated shock. Jack was confused, in more ways than one. Pitch had been uncharacteristically kind in his advances, and it made his skin crawl. Such displays made him question the motives of the Nightmare King completely, wondering what exactly he was looking for, anyways..
He stood up, brushing himself off and he backed away. All Jack really knew was that something was wrong here, even if he couldn't say what. The feeling was of pure dread. Of course, he was curious.. more than anything, he wished he could get inside Pitch's head, see what he really felt, thought, intended.
Jack needed to know.
But such curiosities could wait. The instinct of fight or flight was far too strong to ignore, and he needed to run; run, far away, and get away from this monster.
Pitch was a monster.
And Jack was walking right into the trap, whether or not he knew it.
A/N: Hello again guys! Sorry for taking so long to update, I swear, junior year is a bitch, arright? I have a lot of stuff to catch up on, so I may not update often, but I won't let this story die, I promise. R&R and like usual, flames toast my marshmallows.
