Disclaimer: I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Title: In Due Time: Chapter 2: None Get Away
Characters: Pitch, Jack, Guardians
Word Count: chapter: 3,151||story: 6,343
Genre: Drama||Rated: PG-13
Notes: This is mainly movie-verse, but with some elements from the book-verse.
Summary: [WIP, Pitch, Jack, Guardians] Pitch knows he would've won if he'd had Jack on his side. If there had been no Guardians to fight him. So he's going to make certain that those things are what happens. The laws of time do not allow change. But Pitch is the Nightmare King, and he makes his own laws.

"Just think about it, Jack. Instead of three centuries of being alone and ignored, you can have three centuries of a family!" Pitch waved his hands toward Jack, as if by sheer intensity he could convince the Spirit of Winter that he meant everything he said.

Jack blew a chill breath up his face and sighed. Honestly, he would've preferred it if Pitch really did start torturing him. He was pretty sure he could handle that. Everything the Nightmare King kept babbling about in relation to a family and the Guardians not existing set his stomach churning and little tendrils of fear wriggling all through him.

He tried to fight those off, not wanting to give Pitch any kind of ammunition against him, but from the way those silver-gold eyes slipped toward him, and that knowing little tilt of his lips, Pitch sensed his frets and fears loud and clear.

Jerk.

"So what, exactly, is it that you plan to do?" He wasn't certain how he could stop Pitch, being chained up and all, but he was a Guardian. He wasn't going to let this guy just randomly do whatever it was he planned on doing, not without some kind of a fight. "You could make it a little clearer, you know." Pitch liked to talk. Pitch would definitely want to go on about his plans and about how wonderful everything would be. Again. And again. And again.

Pitch checked the large clock one more time, then gestured toward Jack. The sandborn shackles slipped away from the wall and pulled Jack's wrists in front of him, the rest of the sand solidifying into a long chain that led to Pitch's hands.

Could be worse, Jack told himself as Pitch tugged him over. It could be a collar. Annoying as it was to be chained to Pitch like this, the thought of being led about on a collar was even worse.

He hoped that wasn't a fear. He wouldn't have been surprised at all if Pitch had changed it to that if he did fear it.

"This isn't really an answer, you know." He lifted his bound hands and shook them, wishing for his staff's comforting presence. Three hundred and more years he'd held it, seldom letting it out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time, and he didn't like not knowing where it was now. It wasn't broken; he would've known if Pitch did that (again). But he wanted it.

"But this will be," Pitch said. He turned toward the clock and did something that Jack couldn't entirely see. Before he could form another question, brilliant light engulfed them both, and Jack could only hear Pitch swearing in languages he felt certain didn't exist anymore.

When the light cleared, Jack found himself and Pitch standing in a thicket of rich green bushes, dotted with pale blue flowers the likes of which he'd never seen before. Granted, he didn't see that many flowers anyway, spending most of his time when they weren't around, but he'd seen a few since being able to visit the Warren regularly, and these didn't look familiar at all.

He started to open his mouth, wanting more answers than he had, and wondering if Pitch needed some kind of refresher course in what providing answers actually meant.

Before a single word could make it out of his mouth, a band of sand solidified itself over his lips. Jack glared at Pitch; really, didn't he have anything that vaguely resembled tact?

To be supremely fair, Jack himself only vaguely knew what 'tact' was, but Pitch was older and insisted he was a king, so he should've known better, right?

"Remain quiet. I don't want us to be seen," Pitch murmured into Jack's ear. His stomach churned at the other being that close to him, but the idea of somehow ruining Pitch's plans by having them being seen did seem to be extremely interesting. If nothing else, Pitch had just said he didn't want it, which meant Jack wanted to make it happen. And the sooner, the better.

Pitch tightened his grip on the chain that still led to Jack's shackles and jerked it a little, not enough to pull Jack off his feet, but it did get Jack's attention.

"You don't know where we are, do you?" Pitch asked, clear superiority in his tone. Jack rolled his eyes. Of course he didn't. He hadn't been asked his opinion about this little vacation, and it was too warm for him anyway. He would've preferred to hang out somewhere with better weather, less green, and more snow.

Though, the more he considered it, the more vaguely familiar this place did seem. He'd never been here before. He was very certain about that. But the place felt just ever so slightly familiar, as if he'd...somehow seen it? Been told about it? Been somewhere like it?

That last one seemed the most right, though for the life of him, he couldn't think of why. He looked around again, spying more trees, grass, and bushes that seemed utterly unfamiliar and hauntingly familiar the same time.

"Are you certain you don't recognize any of it?" Pitch's tone indicated that Pitch, at least, thought that he should. "Nothing even vaguely familiar?"

Jack shrugged; again, he wanted more answers than Pitch seemed inclined to give. He'd figure it out eventually, though. Even if doing so came second place to finding a way to wreck all of Pitch's plans.

The bushes they stood behind were thick and tall enough to hide them completely, though they were clearly bushes and not trees. Just very tall bushes, Jack decided. The leaves were... he blinked and took another look there, wishing he could rub his eyes. Had that trip through whatever done something to his vision? Because there wasn't any way he was actually looking at egg-shaped leaves!

But he was. As much as he didn't think it would be possible, instead of the kind of leaves he was sort of familiar with, these were definitely ovals, and in the same glimmering shades of green that he'd seen at the Warren.

The Warren! That was it! Jack almost leaped with joy as he made the connection. If it hadn't been for the shackles and chain, he likely enough would have, and he was tempted to try for it anyway.

Pitch smiled, and all of Jack's joy shuddered at the sight. He wasn't the tooth fanatic that Tooth was, but seeing that assured him he wouldn't have a night of restful sleep for a week.

"I see you figured it out. Or some of it, at least." Pitch leaned forward to peer through the bushes, fingers parting the twigs cautiously. "We are on a world other than Earth. The name of it in its own language would twist your tongue to even begin to pronounce, but it's best known as the Pooka homeworld."

Pooka. That tapped at Jack's thoughts; he'd heard the word somewhere. On occasion he wished that he paid just a scrap more attention to some of what the other Guardians told him about themselves. Sure, he'd enjoyed North's story about how he'd once fought off an entire army with a bent steak knife, but how was that going to relate to this?

Jack realized somewhat belatedly that the sky overhead was full of stars, not a one blanked out by city lights. He hadn't seen a sky like that in at least a century. There wasn't any sound of machinery or cars or anything in the area. What on Earth could be here that would make Pitch want to come here and wreck...whatever it was?

"Almost here," the Nightmare King murmured, and Jack saw that he was looking up at the skies. Shadows clung around him, tiny whispers of voices just on the edge of hearing starting to swirl around them. "Pay attention, Jack. You're going to have a wonderful history lesson very soon."

Yeah, if I didn't pay attention to the Guardians when they tried, what makes you think I'm going to pay attention to you? Jack rolled his eyes, but watched, more because he wanted to stop Pitch's plan than anything else. He knew that it would be hard, without his hands free and without his staff, but he had to think of something. Maybe if someone came by he could break away and cause a commotion? Or just make a strange noise that would throw things off? A dozen different ideas sloshed around in his mind and he couldn't decide on one of them.

The silent forest's peace shattered. From out of the sky there came a ship, one that resembled vessels he'd seen when he was much younger, only these flew through the air, and their weapons fired without warning or challenge of any kind. Energy bolts lashed forward, setting trees and bushes aflame, and dozens of small animals leaped from their hiding places, running and howling in shock and pain.

Jack had seen scenes similar to this before, when people set fire to the woods to drive out 'dangerous animals'. He didn't want to watch now.

Pitch's hand on his chin, tilting his head upward, gave him no options. "Watch. This has only just begun."

It was probably just as well, Jack decided, that he was gagged, now that he thought about it. He didn't think he would've been able to stop himself from yelling and screaming at the invaders to stop, from blasting them with every form of ice and snow at his command, from doing anything and everything he could to get them to stop this travesty.

The wild creatures, none of which he recognized, were only the beginning of what leaped into sight and fled, all of them too terrified to even realize that Pitch and Jack were there in the first place. Then another form, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, leaped from somewhere Jack couldn't identify, hurling weapons back at the ship, one that exploded into brilliant colors and puffs of bright smoke, visible clearly even in the darkness of night.

Bunny? Jack tried to move forward, but Pitch kept him on a short leash and shook his head.

"You're just here to watch and learn. To see how I'm going to erase each and every one of the Guardians, and make certain that they don't even exist anymore. And this is where I'm starting: with the Guardian of Hope."

Jack had heard people insult their mortal enemies with less venom that what fell from Pitch's lips with those words. The idea of there being no more Bunny, no more eggs or Easter or hope at all, sickened him more than anything else he'd heard so far. He shook his head as violently as he could, trying with all of his strength to get his hands on the chain.

Perhaps he got lucky. Perhaps Pitch took his eyes off him for just a bare second, as a half-dozen warriors raced by the two of them, paying no more attention to them than if they'd been part of the scenery itself. But Jack managed to wrap his hands around the chain and concentrated with every scrap of energy he could muster, sending a bolt of ice up it.

Frozen sand collapsed from his wrists and away from his mouth, leaving him free, and he stumbled back, drawing in a sharp breath. He could do some things without his staff, but flying wasn't one of them, and he didn't know if this world's wind would answer him anyway. He'd never left Earth before. He'd never even thought about it.

Still, he shook himself into sense and began to hurry after the group of fighters, uncertain of what he would tell them. Would they believe that he'd come from the future, a prisoner of Pitch Black, and would that mean anything to them even if he did?

"Hey!" He snapped the word out, paying no attention to anything else, and squawked a heartbeat later when a firm hand closed around his throat. At first he thought one of the Pooka did it, until he caught a glimpse of smooth gray skin and a far too familiar breath in his ear.

"Be quiet. The Pooka do not allow strangers on their world, especially since tonight, their world is going to end," Pitch hissed. Jack fought harder, hoping that his one word had managed to at least get through to them.

A tiny bit of tension fought between flaring and easing as he saw the group looking around, hopefully because of what they'd heard. One of the group moved toward them, and Jack held his breath, even as Pitch let another band of black sand wrap around his mouth, keeping him quiet. Shadows swirled around them both, and Jack strained harder, only to find himself unable to move from Pitch's side.

What is he doing? None of this made sense to Jack. It didn't make any more when he got a very good look at the one who was coming closer.

He wasn't quite as tall and his fur was a slightly different shade of gray, and the markings weren't as intricate as the ones Jack remembered. But the way he moved and the glint of his green eyes told Jack who this was more so than anything else could have.

Bunny? There he was, the Easter Kangaroo, and while he wasn't dressed in the few bits of armor that Jack was used to, he still held himself like a warrior.

Pitch growled deep in his chest and stepped away from Jack, letting the shadows keep a tight grip on the winter spirit. Jack pulled against them with all of his strength, and couldn't get so much as a moment of release. All he could do now really was watch.

The language meant nothing, but Jack could see they saw Pitch now, and Bunny's eyes widened first in surprise, then anger. Some of the others gestured to the ship still sending down burning blasts of energy, the fires far beyond what could be extinguished easily, and other beams tearing up the ground, revealing tunnels to Jack's surprised eyes. No wonder the sky was clear of city lights: the city was underground!

He would have time to think about that later. Right now, his full attention focused on Pitch, as the Nightmare King's scythe materialized in his hands, and he swung forward, the blade moving too quickly for the eyes to follow. A high-pitched cry squealed in the depths of Jack's throat, and it was only by extreme agility that Bunny leaped backward in time to avoid the strike.

The others in the patrol, or whatever it was, surged forward, but Pitch paid them no mind at all, sinking down into the shadows and rising up next to where Bunny stood getting his bearings again. Jack cheered him on silently, wanting to see Bunny slice into Pitch, to see his boomerangs in action, exploding eggs, anything at all.

What he saw was Pitch's scythe whisking forward, edge sharp as hate, as fear, as anger, as rage, and what he heard was a cry such as he never had before: a Pooka in pain. And what he smelled was a scent he'd caught too many times over the centuries and wished never to again, every time it happened: blood.

Bunny lay on the ground, two of his companions near him, two other starting toward Pitch, eyes bright with fury. The Nightmare King only laughed, a sound destined to haunt Jack's dreams for years to come, and stepped back, ignoring the others.

"I'll let him have the rest. He'll do a good job of it," Pitch said as he wrapped himself and Jack once more in the deep darkness. He tilted Jack's head up to the heavens once more. "Look, Jack. That is who I used to be...and who I'll be again, when all of this is over with."

Jack could just barely see a shape on the ship's deck, one tall and elegant, and radiating a shadow that made his heart sink and urged him to find somewhere to hide before whatever it was saw him. He could see features, ones that weren't identical to the one who held him now, but close enough so that he could see what Pitch meant.

Pitch pulled him closer, triumph thick in his voice. "And now that I've gotten rid of him, it's time to go on to the next one."

Light flowed around them again, Pitch's shoulders tensing, and Jack had only a few moments to see the fallen form of Bunny, his companions around him, and someone running from the far side of the burning disaster that had been a peaceful meadow such a short time before.

He can't do anything, Jack mourned to himself. He'd seen the wound, and he didn't think anyone could've survived that.

"Do you see what I'm doing now, Jack?" Pitch asked, and only with that did Jack realize they were back in the same place they'd started from. "The Guardians won't be around to stop me, because they're not going to exist at all. They will have never existed. Died before they could be chosen. Never born in the first place. Never, ever in a position to fight me, no matter what."

The shadow bonds vaporized, Pitch feeling no need for them now that they were back in his own lair. He smiled darkly at Jack. "Raised and trained to never, ever do anything except what I command you to do."

Even eating North's fruitcake didn't make Jack feel half as sick as that idea did. "You're joking."

"Not for a moment, Jack. Not for a single moment. You saw what I was like then, at the peak of my power. This was even before the Dark Ages. This was when I ended the Golden Age of the universe." Pitch sighed, a deep, nostalgic sigh. "I rained desolation and destruction down on every world that I could. The Pooka stood against me, and I killed them all." One corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Or I thought I had, until I realized that one escaped. But now I've fixed that. It's a complete set: utter destruction, not a single one has survived."

Jack swore to himself that the moment he had his hands on his staff, he would freeze Pitch in an iceberg so thick that even dropping it into the heart of the sun wouldn't so much as make it drip.

Bunny. He didn't give Pitch the satisfaction of so much as wet eyes. Instead, he threw his head back and stared the other right in the face.

"So what else do you have in mind?" He would find a way to end Pitch's plan. It couldn't end like this. He wouldn't allow it.

To Be Continued