Chapter 2

Jack awoke to the sensation of being warm. Once it had been a frightening experience, and a cause to head for one of the Poles as quickly as he could in order to bury himself in the ice and snow. Now it just meant he'd had the time to visit Pitch, enough time to be able to stay with him, to sleep and wake with him like a couple. A normal couple. Jack's expression faltered a little and he stirred. Hands were immediately on him, and he felt Pitch's mouth at his neck. It was no more than a brush of lips, no biting or sensation of a tongue running across the pale flesh, but Jack still felt like Pitch might devour him at any moment. Or, perhaps, sink right into his skin until there was only one being left, impossible to become any closer than they had already become.

He shivered, and shifted under Pitch's touch. "I need to go," he said quietly, pulling out and apart from Pitch, the sheet that had previously been over him falling away. "It's been a while since I've visited Jamie…it's too warm for a snow day, but I still promised to come by once in a while." He gathered his clothes from where they'd been discarded at various points during the night, turning back to look at Pitch before he put them on. Pitch was propped up on his elbows, almost in a reclining position. He hadn't bothered to cover himself any more than the blankets already offered, and had materialised no new clothing. Jack was never quite sure where the clothing disappeared or reappeared from. Pitch had muttered something vague about shadows when Jack had asked, but the spirit was doubtful.

Pitch wasn't saying anything, which made Jack sigh; and once he'd pulled his trousers back on, he crawled onto the bed, pressing his forehead against Pitch's and closing his eyes. Pitch's expression was accepting – no, it wasn't at all. That was totally the wrong word. Resigned was right. Jack's heart felt heavy with guilt, and his fingers clenched a bit too tightly into Pitch's hair.

"I will come back," he promised, both Pitch and himself. Getting no reply, he eventually took off, navigating the mind-tricking maze that served as home for Pitch. If each of the homes of the Guardians reflected their centre, then Pitch's certainly did the same. Just when you thought you were secure, the floor would open up under your feet and leave you gasping for breath and struggling to calm the pounding of your heart. But a physical maze could be learnt. Even though Jack was fairly certain Pitch had found ways to alter the layout of his Lair every so often, throwing Jack for the occasional look with his visited, it was nothing compared to the ever-shifting turmoil of Pitch's mind.

Every so often, nightmares would appear out of the shadows and dance alongside Jack as he flew through the caverns of Pitch's home. Every time filled Jack with a kind of fearful thrill; the memory of how they'd dragged Pitch away fresh in his mind every time. That was probably how they liked it, however. Today was once such time, and Jack felt the familiar spike of fear that served as his first warning to their presence. He didn't have the patience to deal with them this time, and accelerated with a sudden burst of energy, leaving ice-slick walls behind him as his powers discharged in the process, creating a winter wonderland in his wake. He wondered how Pitch would react to finding it later.

Eventually, he located the tunnel that led out of Pitch's Lair, and a burst of energy propelled him through it and out of the hole in the ground that had once, a long time ago, been covered by a bed. But rather than head towards Burgess, as he had told Pitch he would, Jack quietly and guiltily coaxed the wind into a different direction. He hadn't lied to Pitch. Not…intentionally. He'd intended to visit Jamie, still did, but the conversation of the night before echoed around his head, and refused to let him be. The idea of Pitch's past, of there being a before, had tangled around his fingers, and refused to unwind itself until Jack gripped it tightly, and followed it through.

But who to go to for answers?

Tooth seemed the obvious option. Her centre was memories, and that was what Jack needed access to. He wondered absently what had happened to the tooth what had been knocked painfully from Pitch's mouth the day the Guardians had defeated him. The last Jack had seen of it was a dirty white, misshapen lump skittering across the surface of his lake to be, ironically, forgotten about. He hadn't seen any sign of it since. Jack thought harder, hand clenching around his staff as he tried to focus. Who was most likely to know? Pitch claimed to predate the Earth. Sandy, Jack thought suddenly, was the most likely to know something, anything. He used the same sand techniques as Pitch, albeit for radically different purposes.

Jack paused a moment in the air, gazing out across the horizon as the wind gently buoyed him in place, rustling deliciously cool air over his body. Talking to Sandy meant, of course, finding Sandy in the first place. He may be the most likely to know, but he was also in no particular order: the hardest to find, the busiest, and the most difficult to understand of the guardians. Patience was not a strong skill of Jack's, and every single problem talking to Sandy posed required copious amounts of it.

That only left North and Bunny. Jack honestly didn't know who between them was the more likely to say anything. Despite his indecisiveness, the wind picked up beneath his feet, and he felt himself being guided in a very definite direction. Jack blinked in surprise at the choice the wind appeared to be making for him, but in the end gave a grin, throwing himself into the flight whole-heartedly, and not stopping until the landscape around him had changed.

Finding the Warren was never an easy task, but Bunny had shown him a few of the entrances the googies used, and Jack had discovered to his great delight (and Bunny's sometimes horror) that the openings were big enough for him to wriggle his way through.

If Jack had picked up such a habit of invading the Warren right from the start, he could only imagine the friction it would have caused between himself and the kangaroo. Despite the forgiveness for what Jack had done that Easter long ago, and they had worked well together against Pitch afterwards, it had not been a real fix between them. A start, yes, and a good start at that. But it was not enough. Not when after the thrill of the battle was over, and Jack's Guardianship had been made official, Bunny had returned to the Warren; returned to the shattered remains of his Warren.

Jack used the word 'return' like getting back to the Warren had been easy in the first place. During their rampage through the home of hope, the Nightmares had wrecked every tunnel they'd passed through, collapsing most of them, and even those that hadn't collapsed had been wrecks. It had taken Bunny months to get them back into working order, refusing to interact with anyone for the entire time. Jack had almost attempted to offer help, North's large hand on his shoulder the only thing that had stopped him from what he could see now as being a terrible mistake.

But that time had passed, the tunnels were fully restored and several successful Easters had passed. Jack turned up in the Warren for every single one, to help decorate eggs. Bunny never asked why he had come, but he never told him to leave. And there was always paint and brushes set to the side. Jack wondered, perhaps, if Bunny understood the guilt that Jack still couldn't shift. It created a horrible parallel to his time with Pitch. Jack stayed well away from Pitch and his Lair every Easter. Guilt may wrack him for not being able to save Easter, but it also wracked him because it was the time he hadn't stopped Pitch being dragged away by his nightmares. Jack hadn't known it was possible to feel two such opposite pulls, but it was apparently a fully possible feeling, and one of the most agonising, emotionally, that he'd ever had the misfortune to experience.

Thank the Moon it wasn't Easter anytime soon, Jack thought as he sped his way through the tunnels. Asking questions about Pitch was hard enough without disturbing those kinds of memories.

Emerging into the Warren was, as always, like entering a fairyland. A tad on the warm side for Jack, but so breathtakingly vibrant that he barely noticed, and often completely forgot about the temperature altogether. The wind was respectful on this place, and Jack found that he was too. It was on gentle breezes that he flew through the Warren, weaving his way through the plants and boulders almost lazily as he looked down at the scattering of googies around. It wasn't long before he found Bunny, hunched down near one of the colourful rivers, surrounded by the little eggs, deeply invested in painting delicate designs onto them. His ears twitches as Jack approached however, and he glanced over with a half-wave before returning to his painting.

Jack flew down to land nearby, careful not to hit any googies with staff or feet. "Want any help with those?" he offered after watching Bunny for a few minutes more, and Bunny gave a deep chuckle.

"Nah, you're all right. We've got plenty of time yet for these little guys," Bunny told him, regarding the googies with a fond gaze. He turned his eyes over to Jack however, a focused gazed rather than the quick glance he'd spared before, and something in Jack's gaze must have given him a clue as to what was going on in his head. "Come on mate, spill," Bunny said easily, settling back down to his work, although his ears tilted towards Jack. "I don't need help painting, but the company is welcome."

Jack smiled faintly, slipping down until he sat parallel to Bunny, enjoying the way the unpainted googies waddled towards him, one or two toppling over as they went too fast for their little legs to handle. Jack lifted one of them into his hands, watching it totter about. Stalling having to speak.

"Umm. I just wondered if we could…talk about…Pitch?" he eventually came out with, and winced as Bunny froze up, taking several moments to visibly relax himself and return to the painting, which was still more strained than the easy brushstrokes he'd had before. Jack suddenly realised he was squeezing the googie in his hands far too tightly as he tried to gauge Bunny's reaction.

"It's just…I was wondering," Jack began, trying to relax his grip on the googie, which was flailing its legs at him frantically, "about P-Pitch's past. Tooth said to me that we were all something before we were chosen, right? Like when I got my memories back. I just wondered if Pitch was the same. If he was anything before he was the Nightmare King?" Jack couldn't bring himself to look at Bunny, his heart thumping in his chest painfully. Guilt was surely written all over his face.

Bunny was silent for a long while, and the wrecking beat of Jack's heart didn't ease in the slightest. It only worsened as Bunny finally spoken, and Jack nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden noise in the silence.

"I know…bits," Bunny admitted slowly, cagily, before he stilled, and glanced over to where Jack was lounging with the googies, a wary look in his eyes, "…why? What's got you so interested?"

Jack's head jerked towards him, the epitome of a guilty party. "No reason?" he tried, wincing as his voice grated. "I just, uhh…well, what with finding my memories, and talking to you guys about your pasts, I just – I just wondered…"

"You got your teeth back years ago," Bunny interrupted. "Nah…nah that ain't right," Bunny said slowly, eyes narrowed as he advanced on Jack, clearly puzzling it over in his head and not resting without an answer. Jack wanted to leap backwards onto the wind as Bunny came forward, but something – guilt – panic – surprise – made him stay were he was, eyes wide. "If you were interested in where Pitch came from, you'd have asked a long time ago," Bunny peered at Jack suspiciously. It wasn't malicious, Bunny hadn't guess, couldn't have guessed, but it wasn't innocent confusion over Jack's question in those eyes.

"No, that's not – there's no reason, really, I just…" Jack was flustered, creeping cold and hot spreading over his cheeks as frosty tendrils chased after blush.

"Why now? Why are you asking about Pitch now of all times?" Bunny's eyes widened, and he took a step back, "mate, have you seen him? Crikey, if you have, we need to tell North, summon the Guardians and – "

"No!" Jack burst out, leaping into the air to press his hands into the fur on Bunny's cheeks. He'd seen North do it before, and a faint breeze of relief ruffled through him when he saw Bunny's face go slack, eyes wide at the sensation of someone touching his face. "It's…it's nothing, Bunny. If you don't want to share, you just had to say so," Jack told him, drawing his hands away slowly. Swiping up his staff from the ground, he launched himself into the air without a backwards glance. Bunny may have shouted something after him, Jack couldn't be sure. The wind was rushing past him, howling in his ears until he couldn't be sure of anything he heard. Just the way he liked it.

It had been a mistake, he decided upon exiting the Warren, to try and ask Bunny. Of course he'd get suspicious, he was the most wary of the Guardians by nature. It left him, of course with only one option on who to ask about Pitch's past. Jack didn't know much North would be able to help, Jack thought as he sped his way towards the Pole, but unless he crashed into Sandy along the way, and mysteriously gained the ability to understand his way of speech, there were few other options to be had.

Upon arriving at the Pole, Jack was glad of his choice. Even if North didn't answer him, or didn't know the answer at all, he liked the workshop. It was a place where toys were made for children to have fun with; it was logical that he would be drawn to it. Besides, North had been the first of the Guardians to truly accept and reach out to him. Sandy had been his friend, sure, but that was different. More distant; Sandy was, after all, nice to everyone. North had been unapologetically warm and open, even after Jack's attempts to rebuff him. Landing himself on an open window near the top of the building, Jack gazed down into the Workshop, Globe before him and yeti bustling all around and tripping over the elves.

And of course, right in the middle of it all, overseeing the workforce, was North.

"Jack!" came the old man's greeting as soon as he spotted the younger spirit hovering by the window. "Come in, come in. I will take break." He conversed with the two yetis beside him as Jack floated down to the workshop floor, turning to walk with Jack as he finished instructing them. "What has you looking so down in dumps?" North asked, after peering closely into Jack's face, still apparently showing his worry after the failed discussion with Bunny. He debated momentarily making up some excuse, however with North, considering his uncanny ability to wrangle the truth out one way or another, Jack decided the direct approach would likely be best.

"I tried to ask Bunny about Pitch's past," Jack admitted, and North's face creased immediately into a frown. "I just want to know!" Jack cried, clutching his staff tightly. "You guys have fought him loads of times in the past, I'd never even spoken to the guy before the Tooth Palace. You all know so much more about him, and I just…I wanted to know where he came from. If you'd know where he'd came from. Why he is the way he is." Is. Present tense. Jack froze at his slip up, but North barely seemed to notice it. His frown had deepened, but he was far more contemplative now.

"It was not being good idea to ask Bunny," North said finally, crossing his heavy arms across his chest.

"Yeah, I get that now," Jack muttered, eyes flickering down to the floor. North sighed, unfolding his arms to place one hand on Jack's back, guiding him through the Workshop, down the corridors until they reached North's office workspace.

"You must understand, Jack," North began, closing the door behind them and turning to face Jack sternly, "we faced Pitch a great many times back when he was at the height of his power. It is not – " North paused, sucked in a deep breath, and sighed. Jack leant forward, willing North to continue.

"It's not…? Not what?" he prompted, tantalised by the promise of information right at his fingertips, frustratingly withheld.

"Jack. Let me tell you a fairytale story?" North said instead, fixing Jack with a contemplative look.

Jack's mouth fell open slightly, his brow crinkling. A fairytale? But he wanted to know about Pitch! "North, is it really – "

"Please, Jack," North said quietly, turning serious blue eyes on the younger spirit, "This fairytale is of great importance. Now, let's see…I shall try to tell it to you just as it was told to me, yes?" North settled himself and Jack did the same, hunching over in his position.

"Once upon a time, long before the earth and the moon, there existed the Constellations. Beautiful, shining kingdoms that existed stretched across the skies. Each was ruled by a Tsar and Tsarina, and there was peace and happiness and good dreams. It was called, in all its glory and perfection, the Golden Age."

Jack's eyes narrowed towards North. There was something about his expression, the tone of his voice that was both wistful and mournful. Jack kept his lips firmly closed, slowly beginning to sense the unexpected gravity to the tale.

"There was only one thing that threatened the Golden Age," North continued, "and that was the darkness. The living shadows of Fearlings and Nightmare Men, dream pirates who sought to spread nightmares and darkness amongst the hearts of all living beings.

"Luckily, there existed an army of golden warriors, led by…by a fierce, mighty General. This General led the Constellations in war against the shadows, and won. But…" grief passed across North's face, and Jack leant in closer, "…you see, the shadows could not be destroyed, Jack. They could only be trapped. And so trap them the General did. But not only did he trap them…he volunteered as the prison's guard, to keep them in their prison until the end of time.

"It was an agonising task that he had set himself. A lifetime, with nothing but fearlings for company. You and I can't comprehend, Jack, what such a fate would be like. All that the General had to keep himself – to keep himself sane, was a single locket. A single locket, and the picture and memories it contained. He had a daughter, and it was his daughter alone that kept him fighting. Until…" North took a deep breath, "until the fearling learned to use it against him."

Jack's blood ran suddenly cold in his veins, colder, too cold; the kind that didn't come from temperature but rather from horror and foreboding. "What did they do?" he asked, and his voice was barely a whisper. He hadn't even realised how far into the story North had drawn him without him realising it at all.

"They used her voice. They tricked the General into believing that, within their prison, they had his daughter, and were torturing here. They used her screams, her pleas against him. And so, he opened the door. The fearlings rushed out and rushed straight into him."

Jack felt numb.

"That General's name was Kozmotis Pitchiner," North told him, voice heavy, "but after the fearlings took him, they changed him, transformed him into what you know as Pitch Black."

"Pitch was…a hero?" Jack tested the words in his mouth. They felt heavy, wrong. Pitch wasn't…Jack cared about Pitch a great deal, loved him even, but he wasn't a hero. He was the Nightmare King. The one who tried to destroy the Guardians, the one who was against everything the Man in the Moon stood for, he couldn't…how could he have ever been…

"Bunny was there, you know," North confided quietly, and Jack's eyes widened in shock, as he was jolted out of his racing thoughts.

"He was…but how?" Jack asked, stunned. Bunny couldn't be that old, could he? Although…that would explain how grumpy he was…

The thought was immature, and cut off quickly as North's expression, so atypical for the jovial guardian that it made even Jack sit up to listen closely to what he had to say, darkened. "An old friend, and an old guardian, took a liking to travelling through time using a magical device. He met Bunny several times on his trips," North chuckled, "Although Bunny has never in fact told us quite how he travels time, and has never revealed any device he may use to do so. Secretive rabbit man," this last part was muttered under North's breath, "but one of the trips my old friend met Bunny on, was one to when Pitch was first…'born', shall we say. The exact moment the fearlings tricked him, and Kozmotis was lost to the shadows."

"But Pitch was – before everything, he was a hero," Jack breathed out in wonder, and North nodded, sadly.

"Yes, he was. And that is, perhaps why it is so hard for Bunny to talk about it. To see the fall of one so brave, so strong, from the mightiest hero of the Golden Age to the King of Nightmares…it is hard. It is near unconceivable. Indeed, to those who do not understand the love a parent possesses for a child…" North broke off, staring into the distance. Jack watched his expression, wondering what was passing through his mind.

"When I was a young man I did not understand the tale," North said softly, "I did not understand until I met Katherine and the other Guardians what it was to love someone so much that you would lose everything for them. But then, on top of that, I had to learn that Pitch truly did lose everything. He is not Kozmotis any longer," North said firmly, settling his hands firmly on Jack's shoulders, "maybe a long time ago there was still something of Kozmotis in him, but now?" North shook his head, "nyet. I have seen that man do too many evil things, things that if there were even a smidge of the General left, he would fight far harder to stop from happening."

'But – ' Jack wanted to begin, but he reigned himself in, instead trying to minimalise his smiling, aiming it down at the floor. "Yeah. I get it. I guess I just wished that we wouldn't always have to be fighting him."

"I wouldn't worry," North said, his jovial tones returning as he assumed Jack had dismissed the matter from his mind. "He may be back, some day, but for meantime, I do not think we need worry about Pitch." He clapped Jack heartily on the back, before leaving the office to return to work.

"No," Jack said to the empty room, unable to control his grin now he was alone, "we don't need to worry about him at all."