Cold and dark. Those are the first things I remember. It was cold, and it was dark, and I was scared…because the cold and the dark do that. They inspire fear. After that, after the Moon chased the fear away, I stopped being afraid of the cold. Actually I found comfort in the cold, reveled in it even. I was the cold…and the cold was me and I loved it. But 'cold' comes in different forms. It took me a good century to realize that I only liked cold the outside. Later I would learn words like 'physical' and 'mental' and 'emotional'. I still don't think I quite grasp the ideas fully, but I have the gist.
You see, as a spirit of winter, I am the embodiment of physical cold. I thrive walking barefoot on the ice and snow or whirling through blizzards at immense speeds. But I'm also a sentient being and the same problems that bother normal humans also tend to bother me, except on a larger scale because most humans don't live for 300 years. It almost makes me wonder what else is wrong with me that I don't know about that has been building for all those centuries. Almost.
Being alone for three centuries…well, the first few days are hard because all you can think about is 'Why?' Then you start doing anything you can to make people acknowledge you. That's when I first started pranking, not a week after the Man in the Moon told me my name. I just wanted someone to see me, so I froze a layer of ice on top of a relatively smooth patch of the muddy street. The person, a man who had been intently leading a few children, had slipped and fallen, spilling his goods everywhere. They laughed so hard, even the man after a moment, and it felt so good that I started laughing too. That was when I really realized that I love laughter.
They still didn't see me.
After the first few weeks of invisibility, you begin thinking that maybe you aren't real after all. Perhaps you're just a ghost…and then you get upset because you can't even remember what exactly a ghost is. Like everything else you know, it just kind of comes to you, leaving you to wonder how. Then you start wondering if you're even as real as a ghost, and if not what are you?
Then it really starts to grate on you and you begin losing your sense of…well, everything. Your reasons for going on, your sense of self, your motivation for anything…. I wonder what would have happened if I'd sunken any lower in my depression. Would the Man in the Moon have done anything? I hope he would have. Or maybe he did. Maybe that was why every now and then, other spirits started showing up for a few minutes of chatter before they'd take off again.
After that, it got tolerable. I didn't have acknowledgement, but I had enough interaction to keep me sane, and I had laughter. The pure feeling of having to release one's happiness always chases away the inner cold that I hate. Even back then I realized that even if they couldn't see me, I could make them laugh.
I would have traded that all away for the belief though; to just know that I was real, even if only to just one child.
I didn't realize how utterly stupid and foolish that was until the chance came, and despite my own misgivings, I took it…
And I have regretted it ever since.
xXx
Easter Sunday, 2012
It was official. Jack hated his life. Just when he'd been able to begin thinking that it could all get better too. He would not make that mistake again soon.
The day had started out decently. He'd been helping the Guardians—the big four (and Sophie Bennett)—prepare for Easter. He remembered thinking how strange it was that despite himself, he'd come to enjoy the Guardians' company…even Bunnymund's to an extent. After all, racing them, helping them, bantering and even just talking with them that much was more interaction than he'd had in centuries, and even though he didn't want to admit it, he'd eaten it up. It had been something he'd desperately wanted for so long, no matter what he'd fooled himself into thinking.
After helping the Guardians gather teeth for the Tooth Fairy, he'd started to view them a little differently. In place of the snobbish sticks-in-the-mud whose lives revolved around schedules that he'd conjured in his head centuries before (after talking to some of the other immortals, many of whom didn't have the highest praise for the Guardians), he'd come to see them as regular spirits, just like him. He'd seen each one of them smile and let loose and actually have fun, and he'd even gotten to see some of their tricks of the trade. Jack would have to admit that watching the Easter Eggs basically decorate themselves had been rather entertaining but seeing Bunny fawn over them had been priceless.
Secretly, he'd loved it because in his mind, he wasn't even supposed to be there. But what had started out as one sleigh ride had turned into protecting fairies, then finding teeth, then hunting down nightmares and then helping prepare for a major human holiday. If only he'd realized that in just days the other spirits had done what should have been impossible: they'd rekindled that spark of hope that maybe he could belong.
Which only made it hurt worse when that hope shattered.
It had begun with Jack volunteering to take 3-year-old Sophie home. He'd felt a little responsible for her, seeing as he knew her and she was from his home town, and so he'd wanted to be the one to drop her off. The others had been leery, but had given into his demands so long as he went and hurried directly back to help protect the eggs on their way to the Earth's surface, and that had been what he'd intended to do. How could he have known that Pitch had set his home base up just outside the city? That it would be so easy to use what he knew Jack wanted, his memories, to lure the winter spirit to the Boogeyman's lair while his nightmares and fearlings attacked the Easter Bunny's warren?
And then, the moment Bunnymund had felt what Jack had experienced for centuries—the very second the children stopped believing—he'd turned his back on the winter spirit. They all had. Not that the Easter spirit in particular had ever really wanted Jack there anyway, but it still hurt because it just confirmed what he feared: that he didn't belong after all.
And then there had been Tooth and North. "What have you done?" Tooth had asked, and Jack couldn't help but feel that that had not been deserved. He hadn't done anything. Of course that had been the problem, but it still felt as if she'd accused him of actively doing something to hinder them. After he'd done so much to help them…
Then there was North's accusation. "You were with Pitch?!" He'd accused Jack like he and the Boogieman were old friends or something. Never mind that Jack had been in danger himself, or that he'd gone chasing after the whole reason he'd accompanied the Guardians to begin with. And then the Russian's silence after Bunnymund had accused Jack of being untrustworthy; of being a traitor…
The worst thing about what the Easter spirit had said was the truth to his words. Jack couldn't help his anger towards the other two because they hadn't even come close to the mark—because their expectations, no matter what they'd said, had been so low to begin with (why else would they jump to those conclusions without even allowing him to defend himself?). Bunnymund, though…Bunny's words had hurt because no matter what Jack felt or thought, no matter how much he tried to justify himself, he could not deny that the Easter Spirit had been right. There wasn't any hope left anymore and it was all because Jack hadn't been where he'd said he would be.
Now, as Jack flew through the atmosphere heading down towards the Antarctic, where no one could ever find him if he didn't want them to, he began to realize that maybe—just maybe—he was better off as he had been for the last 300 years; invisible and alone. What good was acknowledgement if it only hurt him so badly in the end? Had he been so starved for attention that he'd simply attached himself to the first people who showed any mild interest in him? He hadn't realized how much their opinion mattered to him until now…and the worst part was the he knew better! He'd known from the beginning (or at least suspected) that they really only wanted to get to know him because the Man in the Moon wanted him to become a Guardian, not because they wanted a friend. They already had each other as friends. Why would they want another one? Even if they did, why should they consider someone who didn't share in or want anything to do with their deadline-centered lives?
And why had he been so stupid as to allow himself to believe differently?
No tears fell from his eyes, although he felt as if he wanted to cry and scream at the Man in the Moon and Pitch and the Guardians and the world in general. Vaguely he wondered if he even had the ability to cry, as he never really had before, but quickly dismissed the question.
It didn't matter now.
The weather, as always, reacted to his emotions and swirled around him in a blizzard meant to keep everything else away. He found a sort of bitter poetic justice that probably for the first time in his remembered existence he didn't want to see anyone ever again.
Ahead of him, the forever frozen ground and ice of the South Pole, his destination, appeared and pushed himself forward harder, willing the winds to take him faster. In only seconds, he landed hard and looked back at the ocean littered unevenly with stray chunks of ice. Then he closed his eyes and for several minutes just reveled in the storm. He lost himself in the ice and snow that was his; that he belonged to—that he would always belong to.
After a minute, he moved to hold his staff with both hands, wanting the familiarity of the wood in his fingers, when he realized that both appendages were already occupied. Confused for a moment, he looked down and realized that he still held the container of his baby teeth in his hand.
Jack stared at the beautiful object for several moments, almost wondering why it was even there, but then his expression hardened. Everything had gone so wrong because of this stupid, little, golden container. Everything! Why had it meant so much to him?!
Angrily, he looked up and around at the frozen tundra, then shot towards the edge of the cliff in front of him. Whipping his arm back, he took one last, giant step and pushed his hand forward, fully intending to throw the thing into the ocean…only to lose momentum half-way through. Even after everything that had happened he still couldn't let the dumb thing go. The realization made him angry enough to want to throw it all over again and he went to try, but just as before, he couldn't follow through.
Embarrassment and shame built up inside of him, only fueling his depression and anger. What should he do? Should he throw the stupid teeth away? Would they only bring him more pain and despair? And what would he do after that? What could he do? Just go back to Burgess and his pond? Just continue as if nothing had ever happened? As if people hadn't tried to bring him into their lives? As if he hadn't, even for a few days, been completely visible and wanted?
Of course it would be then, at his lowest point that the last person he ever wanted to see somehow managed to find him.
"I thought this might happen." Pitch! Jack tensed, but didn't turn around. There had been no immediate threat in the other's tone. Shock still caused him to forget about the little golden container, and he absently shoved it into the pocket of his hoodie.
He only heard the basic idea of Pitch's next words. He couldn't find it in himself to shut the man out completely, not after the Guardian's recent rejection. The Nightmare King said something about how the Guardians never believed in him and how he'd never belonged, but how Pitch understood…which only succeeded in ticking the winter spirit off.
"You don't understand anything!" Jack found himself yelling, not realizing just how desperate he sounded as he whirled around and attacked. Pitch didn't get the hint—didn't just shut up. Instead he retorted, his own anger coming to bare even as he managed to dodge out of the way of Jack's blow.
"I don't understand what it's like to be cast out?!"
And for that, Jack hated him, because his words had been true before and they were true now. He pushed his offensive, only getting more frustrated as the Boogieman matched or dodged each one of his attacks. The frustration built so quickly, and he screamed, throwing all of his anger and energy into his next blast. Seeing he couldn't dodge, Pitch unleashed a wave of dark sand that met Jack's own power with a thunderous crash.
The resulting storm obscured even Jack's vision to just a few inches in front of him. He struggled to see past the blizzard of snow and sand, searching desperately for Pitch so he could prepare for the blow that would inevitably come…but surprisingly didn't. Instead he only got some words finishing the other's previously spoken thought.
"To not be believed in? To long for a family?"
Jack stopped in his tracks. Once again, he could sense no threat or menace in those words. He turned, far more slowly than he probably should have and saw Pitch's dark figure through the ice and storm. Vaguely he wondered why (and was annoyed at the fact that) the cold didn't seem to bother Pitch the way it did everyone else. He didn't realize he'd stopped advancing, or that he'd lowered his staff.
Pitch Black, the King of Nightmares, longed for a family? For company?
"All those years I spent in the shadows. I thought 'no one knows what this feels like,' but now I see that I was wrong." The winter spirit wanted to say something, wanted to deny everything, but he found that he couldn't. Anything defensive about his stance vanished completely, leaving him all too open. The Nightmare King continued. "We don't have to be alone, Jack. I believe in you. And the children will too!" He'd never heard those words before…hadn't realized just how desperately he wanted to hear them.
"In me?" Jack whispered, wanting to believe but not daring to.
Pitch nodded excitedly. "Yes! Look what we can do!"
Jack had been so focused on Pitch that he hadn't noticed that the temporary flurry around him had cleared somewhat. The now visible structure he turned his attention to definitely classified as one of the most amazing and terrifying things he'd ever seen. The somewhat obscured, dim light of the Antarctic day still danced and glittered, albeit rather morbidly, over the frozen spikes of sharp ice and sand that jutted out menacingly a good 50 feet into the air.
It both awed and scared Jack that at least half of the sculpture had come unwittingly from him.
As if sensing his thoughts, Pitch smiled slyly. "What goes together better than cold and dark?"
It felt as if the Boogieman had punched him. There was a truth to those words that Jack did not like and it made him more than a little sick. The first thing he remembered, after all, had been the cold and dark and the fear. Light more often than not created at least some kind of heat, and dark...didn't. But that didn't mean cold was evil, right? No! But then that would mean that darkness couldn't be purely evil either…it was just how Pitch used it. All of this flashed through his head in a second and he narrowed his eyes warily as the dark spirit continued.
"We can make them believe! We'll create a world where everything—everything—is—"
"Pitch Black?" Jack interjected dryly his words dripping with warning. Pitch paused and noticed the lack-luster expression on the winter spirit's face.
"And Jack Frost," the Boogieman amended quickly. Jack didn't move a muscle. Pitch opened his mouth to say something else, but he must have thought better of it because he closed it a few seconds later, watching the white-haired boy opposite of him thoughtfully.
Then he sighed and deflated. "Look, Jack, I'm tired. I'll admit I like power, but it hasn't been about that for a very long time. Lately, I'll take anything I can get, just so someone believes in me. I'm tired of not being able to interact with anyone; of being ignored and invisible; of being rejected."
Unwittingly, Jack's hard expression softened. It always came back to that, didn't it? To the fact that he'd never been believed in, not even by the other spirits…that he'd almost lost hope that anyone ever would accept and believe in him—just like Pitch, apparently. He immediately scowled again, praying Pitch hadn't caught the momentary change. He didn't want the Boogieman to know just how much he related.
"Is it so much to ask?" Pitch continued quietly. "To be believed in? To be real?"
Jack blinked and looked down seeking the familiarity of snow and ice under his feet. Could he really begrudge Pitch for wanting exactly what he had wanted for so long himself? Then again, did he still want it? Part of him still most definitely did, but part of him…
"If you're invisible, no one can hurt you," he muttered, not realizing he'd said anything aloud.
"That is a lie, Jack." He kind of hated how Pitch kept saying his name like that.
"How is it a lie?" he growled, looking up again. Then he gasped and took a step back, startled. Pitch had walked right up to him when he hadn't noticed, staring at him intently with those creepy, metallic eyes.
"Can you honestly say that having every living being on the planet ignore you didn't hurt?"
Jack frowned and looked down again, unwilling to answer.
"Why should we be rejected? Why should we be the outcasts; the hollow ghosts that no one remembers?" Pitch continued.
The winter spirit blinked for a moment. Then he narrowed his eyes again and turned them back up to look at the tangible shadow that called himself the Nightmare King. "Because you hurt children," Jack responded tensely.
It was Pitch's turn to glare dryly at Jack. "The emotion that sustains my existence is fear. I don't like it—I wish it could be any other way, actually, but I work with it because I have to, Jack. What would suggest I do? Sit passively by while I fade from existence? What would you do?"
The winter spirit hated to admit that the other man had a point. For centuries Jack had done anything from icing up innocent looking sidewalks to slip people up to whipping up giant storms for attention. He didn't like to think it, but he knew that if he were in Pitch's place, he'd probably be no better.
"Let me put it this way, Jack; right now this little skirmish of ours could go either way. I may win, or the Guardians may. The problem is that either way, even if I win, I'll be alone. I'll be believed in, and no one will be there to stop me, yes, but no one will be there to help me either. I'll have nobody again, Jack…and I'd do anything to prevent that. I'd join forces with you on your terms if I have to."
"What?" Jack's gaze shot up, eyes wide. Pitch was asking for terms? He searched for any signs of deception, but saw nothing but resignation in the other's expression. Did he really mean it though? The winter spirit looked down at the white ground beneath his feet again, his mind whirling at light-speed as his eyes subconsciously sought out the comforting patterns of the frozen ground. Pitch was asking what he wanted? Even the Guardians hadn't done that. They'd assumed that he would just fall into line; become one of them because he'd been chosen and that was that. They didn't understand—or care to try to understand—what it felt like to not be believed in. Even Tooth…the moment she'd faltered, everyone had jumped to defend her. No one had done that for him…
Still, even though the others had hurt him—badly—that didn't mean he didn't want them to succeed in protecting the children. He'd warned them that he wasn't Guardian material (and oh how right he'd been there), but that didn't mean the children didn't mean just as much to him. It may not be conventional, but he could do something…he could at least buy the Guardians time. He may also be able to get Pitch to leave them alone while they regrouped. They might just have a chance of winning this yet, he just wasn't sure he wanted to pay the price, as tempting as the other spirit made it.
"And you honestly want me to believe that if I said you can't attack the Guardians or touch even a blade of grass or snowflake in their territory, you'll follow it?"
Pitch seemed to have been expecting that. "I would agree in an instant. Unless they interfere, I will not seek them out."
"Or your fearlings, or your nightmares or anything else you have up your sleeve with the intent to harm them in any way!" Jack had thought he'd been able to calm down, but apparently not as much as he'd wanted.
The gray-skinned man frowned for a moment. "Why are you defending them, Jack? They rejected you!"
"I know!" Jack yelled back. Pitch raised an eyebrow and closed his mouth, and the white-haired boy deflated with a sigh. "I know. I always knew…I just…wanted to believe." He shook his head. "It's my own fault. I won't punish them for that, so that's my term and it won't change."
The Boogieman continued to study him for a moment and finally shrugged his shoulders. "Very well. Anything else?"
Jack blinked. He hadn't expected Pitch to agree with him so readily. It threw him off balance.
"Right…uh, second term: Release all of the tooth fairies."
"Done," Pitch almost sounded bored, and that really grated on Jack's nerves.
"And no more nightmares."
As expected, Pitch frowned and narrowed his eyes. Jack stared back defiantly, just daring the Nightmare King to answer him. After a few seconds, Pitch backed down, a sly smirk forming on his face.
"So you want me to go back to the old way of doing things?"
Jack tipped his head skeptically, never taking his eyes off of the man in front of him. "Old way?"
Pitch shrugged. "How do you think I got the reputation of hiding under beds? That is what I did for centuries after all. The problem with that, Jack, is that it doesn't work anymore! Not without physically harming the child, which—even if I wanted to—cannot work if they don't believe in me to begin with! So 'the old way' is utterly pointless!" He turned towards the winter spirit, fists clenched at his sides, causing Jack to raise his staff defensively in warning. Then in the next moment, the Nightmare King had calmed and the smirk returned. "Of course, that was on my own. If you're volunteering to help me, than perhaps I can be persuaded to—"
"Wait, what?" Jack asked incredulously. "Help you? Scare children?" The white-haired boy could only blink in confusion, trying to comprehend how Pitch could have possibly come to that conclusion.
The dark spirit paused and glanced over at the white-haired boy. "Of course…partner. Unless you want me to continue with the nightmares…"
Jack had begun to get a very sick feeling in his stomach. "So, if I do this I either help you scare kids or you keep going with the nightmares?"
Pitch had a particularly unreadable expression on his face as he stared at Jack. Finally he opened his mouth, although his features remained blank. "Welcome to the choices I've had to make for the whole of my entire existence."
Jack knew Pitch was manipulating his feelings, but he still couldn't help but feel sorry for this man. Just what had his life as a spirit been like? The winter spirit wasn't sure he wanted to know.
"There's got to be another way," Jack whispered.
"If you can think of one, please let me know. I am open to suggestion," Pitch said disdainfully and with more than a little bitterness. Jack wanted to say something, but nothing came to mind.
They sat there in silence for several seconds before Pitch paused and raised an eyebrow. "Well, Jack? What do you say?"
Jack bit his lip. Was it worth it? Helping Pitch scare kids to give the Guardians time to come up with a way to resist the Nightmare King without Sandman; to be there to stop the Boogieman from going too far? He knew how the others would take his turn; as a betrayal far worse than anything he'd already done. But then again, he never really had fit in with them. Bunnymund threw that in his face on a regular basis and had never kept his stance on Jack a secret.
For a moment, he glanced up at the sky, imagining the moon gazing down on them from behind the dark storm clouds; the silent moon that refused to talk to him, although it apparently had no problem communicating with the Guardians.
Pitch's words from only a few moments before rang through his mind. "I believe in you." Even if Pitch had been bluffing, it felt good to hear. And at this point, Jack wasn't sure it was a lie.
"Alright," he said finally, his voice soft but firm as he looked up at the Nightmare King and held out his hand. "I'm in."
Pitch smiled as he took Jack's hand as well. The expression held no hint of kindness.
"Magnificent."
xXx
Jack insisted that the first thing they do was release the fairies, much to Pitch's annoyance. Still, he agreed, albeit reluctantly. Said annoyance had turned to triumphant laughter when they'd found that none of the little fairies could fly.
Jack glared down at Pitch as the fairies cowered away from the maniacal laughter.
"Oh, little fairies. You are more than welcome to leave at any time you wish!" The Nightmare King said with more than a hint of cruel superiority.
Jack's eyes narrowed as he turned back to the little creatures. "Just hold on. I'll find a way to get you all home."
Several of the fairies looked scared and tired, but most of them managed encouraging nods or thankful squeaks.
"Well, well, well. What have we here?" The dark spirit's voice drew Jack's attention. He was circling the globe that reminded Jack of a darker version of North's. "The lights have all gone out! Except for…oh, just six…five…four…"
The sick feeling had returned as Jack jumped down to study the globe as well, ignoring the confused squeaks behind him. "Oh, there go three and two!"
"How did you do that?" Jack asked.
The Nightmare King raised an eyebrow, obviously asking for clarification.
Jack scowled. "The belief. How did you make it go out so fast?"
"Ah," Pitch said as clarity came to him, then he smiled eerily. "The belief of a child; so powerful, but so fragile. You'd be surprised what a few fear-induced nightmares can do. My nightmares aren't normal nightmares, you see. They strike at the very heart of a child's deepest fear."
Jack just stared at him in horror for several seconds. "How can you enjoy that?"
The Boogieman eyed him for a moment. "I don't exactly have a chance at much entertainment. I take what comes."
Jack couldn't help the confused horror that fell over his face as he stared at his new partner. "Have you ever had any real fun? Do you even know what fun is?"
Pitch frowned. "Of course I know what it is. And how would you propose I have 'real fun' when I'm invisible and bound to shadows and darkness?"
It was a rhetorical question, but Jack couldn't help but latch onto it. He'd had plenty of fun in the dark, but most of it involved some kind of light…and ice; lots of ice. He'd have to come up with a game that Pitch could play to show him what good fun felt like if only because the idea of anyone (even the Nightmare King) not knowing fun struck Jack as inherently wrong.
"Why is this last light not going out?" Pitch asked darkly.
Jack glanced up at the last light in the Northern American continent, right about where Burgess was…
"Jamie," he whispered.
"This calls for a personal touch," Pitch growled and turned. A few steps away, he glanced back at Jack. "Coming, partner?"
The utter silence that befell the room caused them both to look up at the cages of baby tooth fairies. Most of them looked down with expressions of shock and denial. He didn't dare look close enough to distinguish the rest.
Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to get out of there.
"Yeah," he muttered, following Pitch out of the still silent lair.
xXx
The moonbeams didn't seem as bright as usual to Jack. He glared up at the round, white object from under his hood before turning his attention back to his companion.
"Why are we here?" he asked uncertainly, glancing up at the warm windows of Jamie Bennett's house shining against the night.
"This is the last light on the globe," Pitch said, raising an eyebrow in the other spirit's direction.
Jack blinked feeling a flutter of fear in his chest. "Wait, you're not going to hurt him!"
The Nightmare King rolled his eyes. "Of course not. I'm just going to…persuade him to stop believing."
"No," Jack said angrily, grabbing hold of Pitch's arm. "Leave him alone!"
Pitch growled and looked as if he were about to attack the white-haired spirit, but he must have seen that Jack wouldn't budge on this matter and visibly restrained himself. "Then what do you suggest? As long as one child exists, the Guardians may have the power to stop us!"
"It's just one kid!" Jack protested. "Out of the whole world, there's only one child left who believes!" And he hated himself for his next words. "And how long do you think that will last?"
The Nightmare King frowned. "Fine. Then why don't we go up and see?"
Jack glared at him for a moment before launching himself onto the roof.
"Stay here. I can handle this," he said, not wanting Pitch anywhere near Jamie…or any of the kids from his home town, really.
The Nightmare King regarded him for a moment, but then nodded. Jack returned the gesture and walked back along the house, pausing just outside of Jamie's room. The kid had, for some reason, left the window open just a crack. He crept carefully up to the opening and hunched outside, listening to the voice he heard coming from the warm interior.
"—Like my whole life, in fact, so you kind of owe me," Jamie was saying. "It doesn't have to be big. It can be anything…anything at all."
Jack caught his breath as he glanced inside. It didn't take a genius to realize what Jamie was doing. He was questioning his belief as to whether or not he'd actually seen the Guardians or if it had all been a dream.
"No…Jamie," he whispered. He didn't want the kid to stop believing in the Guardians… He'd never wanted that to begin with.
The boy stared hard at the little stuffed rabbit in his hands for several seconds while Jack continued to hold his breath. Then Jamie slumped.
"I knew it," he muttered, letting the stuffed animal fall onto the floor.
Something stirred in Jack. He couldn't let this pass, no matter what Pitch said. So he did the only thing he could think of. He frosted over the window, and put his finger to the glass, drawing a rudimentary Easter Egg.
Jamie blinked and turned to the window, having heard the frost crackle into existence, and gasped.
"He's real…" he whispered.
Jack grinned for just a moment, but didn't dare stay any longer. If Pitch found out…well, it wouldn't be pretty. He frosted the window again, erasing the picture before turning directly into the Boogieman.
"What was that, Jack?" The Nightmare King asked calmly, but Jack didn't miss the hint of warning that swam underneath the tone. The frost spirit took a step back. Had he seen? Or could he just pass it off as an accident?
"When I don't concentrate, things frost over," he said cautiously.
Pitch walked around him, holding his chin in his hand. "I see," he said skeptically. Jack had to consciously not let out a breath of relief. "And the child?"
Jack tried to act as nonchalant as he could. "Dunno. He was talking to a stuffed animal. I…uh, don't think he'll last—"
A loud crash interrupted the conversation, causing them both to snap their gazes towards the front of the house.
"What was that?" Jack asked, rushing forward. Pitch beat him to it, appearing at the edge of the roof and looking down over it just as several flying reindeers sped past. A few houses down, North's giant, red sleigh stood out starkly against the pavement where it had crashed. From his position, Jack could easily see North and Tooth inside.
And that suddenly he really, really didn't want to be there.
"Oh my, the Guardians have come to defend their last little ray of hope. How adorable." The last few words had a menace in them that set Jack's warning bells off.
"Remember, you can't hurt them!"
Pitch looked like he wanted to snarl. "They're interfering," he said calmly but with a dangerous undercurrent.
"They don't know," Jack returned. "And I still say one child who probably won't last the week isn't going to hurt you in the long run."
The Boogieman did not look happy, but he finally calmed down. "Hurt us, Jack. We're partners, remember?" Jack winced, feeling a lump at the back of his throat. Pitch frowned at him before speaking. "Alright, I won't touch them this time, if you can get them to leave."
"Only if you promise not to go near Jamie," Jack bartered.
Pitch narrowed his eyes. "Whatever you say, Jack."
"I mean it. If you do anything to hurt him, the deal is off," the winter spirit warned.
They stared at each other for several seconds before the Boogieman reluctantly nodded. Satisfied, Jack jumped into the air and floated down to confront the Guardians.
Before, he really hadn't felt like he deserved many of their words. Now though…everything they'd said about him was true. He tried desperately to shove the guilt down, but it didn't work.
Tooth saw him first.
"Jack?" she asked, leaping into the air only to trip and land ungracefully when her wings couldn't carry her.
"Hey," he said, rushing forward. "You okay?"
She nodded and straightened, smoothing her feathers.
"Jack, what are you doing here?" North asked.
He tried not to wince, he really did. "I think I'm here for the same reason you are."
"The last child who still believes?" North said skeptically.
Jack glanced around uncomfortably and nodded.
"How did you know?" Tooth asked.
"I was in Pitch's lair, trying to get your fairies out," he said slowly, not wanting to lie to them, but not wanting to tell them the whole truth just yet either. "I saw the light."
The fairy's eyes widened and she put her hands to her mouth. "You were trying to do that? Even after…"
Jack swallowed and his hand tightened around his staff. Tooth looked like she wanted to cry in gratitude, and he most certainly did not deserve that. "Yeah. Look, you guys…where's Bunny?"
The large Russian sighed. "Losing Easter took its toll on all of us; Bunny most of all." He looked back towards the sleigh and Jack followed his gaze. On one of the wings sat the most adorable little rabbit Jack had ever seen. The winter spirit winced. Bunnymund was not supposed to be cute.
He bit his lip. It was now or never. "Look, you guys need to leave."
North's brow furrowed. "Why would we do that? We must protect our believer from Pitch!"
"I've take care of it," Jack insisted. "Jamie's safe. Pitch can't get him."
"Oi, what's going on?" Bunnymund asked sullenly, hopping up to the group. Jack found it surreal to have the same voice come from such a tiny ball of fur.
"Jack says he can protect Jamie," Tooth said slowly. Jack wanted to sigh at her expression. She knew something didn't add up.
"Well he'll need our help!" Bunny replied.
"Yes, we should get into positions around the house before Pitch shows up," North agreed.
Jack felt desperation begin to tug at him. "You guys don't understand, if you don't leave now—"
"But I'm already here, North," Pitch's disembodied voice rang around them. The three remaining Guardians gathered together, North and Tooth back to back and Bunny in the Christmas spirit's hand.
"Come out, Pitch!" Bunny yelled angrily. "We're not afraid of you!"
"Aw, aren't you adorable? Would you like me to scratch you behind the ears?" Pitch said, appearing just in front of the group and looking at Bunnymund with an almost cute expression. Then it melted into the typical triumph that seemed to grace his features these days.
North backed up several steps, causing Tooth to squeak as she tried to get out of his way.
Bunny, on the other hand…
"Oi! Come here you overgrown shadow! Let's go! You and me!"
"Would you count that as interfering, Jack?"
Jack winced, wishing he could just disappear right then and there as he felt all of the Guardians turn their eyes to him.
"Jack?" Tooth asked softly, her expression disbelieving. "What's going on?"
He couldn't meet their eyes and found himself suddenly grateful for what little protection his drawn hood gave him.
"Oh, he hasn't told you yet? And here I thought I gave him plenty of time." The winter spirit glared at the Boogieman. That was an outright lie and they both knew it. He just wanted his dramatic gloating to twist out more pain and fear as he delivered the news.
"Stop it!" Jack growled.
Pitch looked as if he wanted to continue, but they both also knew that their deal meant more to him. "You're right, Jack," he said, backing up calmly. "You should tell them."
"Tell us what?" North asked.
"No…" Tooth whispered.
"You didn't…" Bunnymund said, although his tone sounded far more resigned than the other two.
"Jamie's safe," Jack said softly, then looked up at Tooth. "Your fairies are safe and if you all leave now…you'll be safe."
"You see," Pitch continued gleefully, "Jack and I struck a deal. As long as you all stay in your territories you will all remain in good health, but if not, we will stop you."
That was when North got it, and the betrayal in his eyes hurt more than even Tooth's.
"Jack…why?" Tooth whispered, tears forming in her eyes. Bunny didn't say anything, his face oddly blank. Funny, Jack would have taken shouting and yelling, or even an outright glare than that lack of expression.
"You joined with him?" North asked.
"Of course he did," Pitch said as if it were the most obvious thing on Earth. "After all, why should he go with people who don't believe in him?"
"T-that's not true!" Tooth replied angrily.
"Isn't it?" Jack heard himself ask, his own anger beginning to stir inside of him.
Tooth looked back and forth between Jack and Pitch as if trying to decide what to do. Bunny still had that strangely emotionless expression and North seemed to find the ground away from Jack very interesting.
Jack didn't encourage any conversation and Pitch seemed content to sit back and observe for once. The white-haired boy didn't move, choosing instead to watch the other spirits now, unsure as to whether their reactions relieved or hurt him more. Relieved because it meant they hadn't really believed he'd ever go with Pitch, but hurt that despite this, they'd said what they had anyway. They really had expected they'd chased him off permanently as they hadn't thought he'd be here…it was all Jack needed to confirm that they still didn't want him.
"I did not want to believe," North spoke up, breaking the heavy silence. The large man looked back at Jack with wide, pain-filled, eyes that held no wonder now.
That set another flare of anger off inside Jack and he couldn't help his icy glare. "When you accused me before, I hadn't."
"I don't believe you," Bunnymund spoke up for the first time, his voice heavy and bitter. Then he turned to glance up at North and Tooth. "Besides, who cares if he was with Pitch before? He is now and that's what matters."
An icy wind picked up around them.
"You're right, Bunny," Jack said, his voice as cold as the frost he made. "Why should you start believing in me? You never did before."
"Jack—" Tooth started, but the winter spirit cut her off.
"No," he held up his hand. "When I finally found you guys early today, you asked me what I'd done, as if I'd intended to go off to search of my memories instead of helping. And you wouldn't let me explain. That's not believing in me, Tooth.
"And you," he turned his attention to North. "You assumed I'd actually approached Pitch. It wouldn't occur to you that he's the Boogieman, master of deceit and trickery." Pitch looked torn between pride and anger at that, but kept quiet as Jack went on. "I'm still kicking myself that I fell for his stupid bait and got separated from Baby Tooth, but you pulled the same stunt she did and wouldn't even hear me out!
"Then there's E. Aster Bunnymund," Jack said venomously, focusing on the last member of the party. "Who never even wanted to believe in me to begin with and who has held grudges against me for doing my job for centuries. Well now you're feeling what I've—what we've felt for our whole existences and what you always shoved in my face."
Jack paused, stepping back towards Pitch as horror and realization filled their eyes.
"Nobody believes," Jack heard himself say softly. "Nobody believes in you any more." He leaned his staff across his shoulder and turned away from them, only glancing at them over his shoulder, but before he took a step, something occurred to him.
"You know, you all ignored me for 300 years. It's funny, but if you would have come to me even a month ago, I would have done anything for you…any of you. Instead you left me to be invisible to the world. Now it's your turn." He could see the recognition in their eyes as they finally began to realize the consequences of their apathy. "Not so fun from the receiving end, is it?"
He hadn't even realized himself how much their ignoring him hurt until just then. Hadn't he gotten used to being alone? He almost snorted derisively at the thought.
Pitch's booming laugh drew him out of his mini reverie. Jack still stood facing away from the Guardians, but the Nightmare King had appeared to his left, only just inside of Jack's visible range, a mocking grin splitting his face.
"Isn't he magnificent? My new ally, the Frost Prince."
Jack's face contorted in confusion. "The Fr—"
"And really, I have all of you to thank," Pitch continued smarmily, bowing magnanimously to the group of spirits. Then his voice changed to a light, almost happy tone. "Now, off with you! Off, off! It's past your curfew, and you have a long walk home."
"Why you—" Bunny yelled. Jack looked back just in time to see the little creature launch himself at Pitch.
Instinctively, he threw up a shield of ice just before Pitch conjured his own defense. Bunny had expected a reaction consisting of the softer nightmare sand and rammed into Jack's shield, hard, before sliding to the ground in a groan.
"Bunny!" Tooth yelled, racing towards her fallen friend. Then, she looked up at Jack and Pitch and slowed, torn between her own safety and helping her dazed companion. Jack took a step back, giving her the go ahead to approach the small rabbit. She rushed forward and scooped Bunny up as gently as she could before backing towards North.
In those few moments, silence seemed to swallow them. Jack turned away again, although he could literally feel the shocked and angry gazes of his former allies.
Finally, the winter spirit moved, bringing the ice shield down. "Leave," he said, his own voice sounding loud and hollow in the noiseless night. "Before I make you."
The atmosphere could have been cut with one of North's swords and no one moved. Then, finally, Jack heard the large man stand.
"Tooth, Bunny…come."
And Jack hated himself, because North sounded so utterly broken.
Tooth's light footsteps soon joined the Russian's.
"We won't forget this, Frost," Jack heard Bunnymund say. "Ever." Jack found it hard to swallow.
"We'll count on it," Pitch said. "And please refrain from returning. After all, this is the Frost Prince's home and we will know if you so much as try. We wouldn't want any of your precious children hurt, now would we?"
Jack stiffened at his side, his grip on his staff tightening. No matter what Pitch said, he would not allow any of the children in Burgess to come to any harm. He didn't say anything though. Instead he turned to look over his shoulder and just watched as the three disheartened spirits disappeared into the night.
xXx
Author's Note: Extra long first chapter, but I really didn't feel I could stop it sooner.
Anyway, updating this will be sporadic at best, but I'm determined to finish it! I have most of it planned out, and now it's just a matter of writing it...^^;