Chapter Summary: Jamie says he isn't afraid of monsters, but he might be. Just a little.

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Spooks

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Jamie says he's not afraid of monsters, but he might be. Just a little. And there might be something hiding in his room.

He is lying wide awake in bed, wrapped in all of his blankets. It's freezing outside, but the blankets are more to make him feel protected than to keep him warm. His mother has gone to sleep; he can't hear the rattle of the computer keyboard in the living room across the hall. The house is silent.

It's been a few nights since he's had a full night's sleep, and the exhaustion weighs down his bones, but his body is still tense as though waiting for a blow to fall. He's not entirely sure why this vague feeling of unease has lingered so long—he hasn't allowed Monty to talk him into watching a horror film in ages—but the cold fingers of fear won't let him go. It is spurred on by the hazy memory or half-dream of a dark cloud that writhes and advances with hundreds of glowing red eyes.

When the blow falls, it comes not from under the bed but from the window. There is a faint click of the latch opening, and Jamie jumps up in fright only to see a familiar grinning face. For a moment under the bright moonlight, Jack's pale skin and hair make him look like a skeleton, but there is no one Jamie would rather see right now.

"Jack," he whispers in relief.

"Hey, there, kid!" Jack says, matching the quiet of Jamie's voice as he steps in and shuts the window behind him to keep out the snow. By now, the spirit knows which floorboards creak as well as Jamie himself does, so he makes it to Jamie's bedside in silence. "Came by to add another layer of snow and saw your eyes open. What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," Jamie murmurs.

"Ah," Jack says sagely. "Bad dreams?"

"Maybe if I could get to sleep at all," Jamie grumbles. Jack's eyebrows rise, and Jamie continues abashedly. "I'm just kinda scared, I guess."

"Afraid of what?" Jack pries.

Jamie weighs his options for a moment and decides to explain further. "I'm not really sure," he says sheepishly. "Maybe just the dark. Like, I keep imagining this big black cloud with lots of red eyes. I can't get it out of my head." Normally, he wouldn't have said this much to someone asking, but Jack isn't just anyone. Besides, Jamie has the feeling that the Guardian understands things like this better than anyone else.

The spirit doesn't surprise him. Jack stiffens, staring at Jamie intensely. "Have you seen it?"

Jamie is wary. "No, 'course not," he says slowly. "It's just…there was a really bad snowstorm a few days ago and when I looked up at the clouds, they were really dark, you know? And I got the feeling I saw something like it once before. I don't know why I got so scared, but…"

Jack has relaxed. "A black cloud," he murmurs quietly, pausing. "Well, that doesn't sound like fun. No wonder you can't sleep."

He doesn't elaborate, and only taps at his staff thoughtfully as he stares down at Jamie. After a few moments of silence, Jamie speaks up again. "What should I do?"

Jack blinks. "Well—you should be careful, and if you see anything like…well, if you see anything weird, you should tell me. Right away."

It is Jamie's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"But, uh, in the meantime…why don't I help out? Budge over."

Jamie doesn't realize what Jack means to do at first, but he scoots back toward the edge of the bed to make room. Jack rests his staff against the nightstand and slides into bed beside Jamie, pushing the blankets toward his smaller friend and resting on top of the bare mattress.

"I'll stay until you fall asleep," Jack explains.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Thanks, Jack."

Jack smiles. "It's nothing. Anyone would do it."

"Not Mom," Jamie argues with a scowl. "She barely even listened. She said…" well, that part was embarrassing, but he'd already begun. "She said I was too old to believe in monsters anymore."

"You're never too old to believe in something," Jack says quietly. "And besides, it's okay to be scared."

Jamie debates his next words. Jack has been good about this so far, and he thinks he can trust the Guardian with more. "Sometimes, I think there's someone hiding in the dark." Jamie confesses in a small whisper.

Jack frowns again, pinning Jamie with the same intense stare. "Okay."

"Okay?"

The frost spirit nods. "Okay, I'm going to stay here until you go to sleep. And then I'm going to stick around so you don't have to worry."

"Thanks, Jack," Jamie says, stretching under his blankets. Jack is quiet, with the same, fierce look in his eyes, and Jamie wants to wipe it off his face. "Tell me another story?"

Jack blinks, smiles, and obeys.

Jamie can't remember any of it afterward. He hasn't felt so safe in days, or, strangely, as warm. His eyes pull themselves closed of their own accord, and he's fairly sure that he's out cold before Jack has even finished three sentences.

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Sometime later in the night, Jamie groggily wakes up as the bed shifts. He doesn't move, though, and with half-open eyes, he watches Jack silently straighten and grab his staff. The Guardian drops to the floor slowly, and Jamie realizes that Jack must think he is still sleeping.

Jamie watches as the white-haired boy pulls the edges of the blankets up and peers beneath his bed. In the dark room, Jamie can only make out the slight frown on Jack's face before he stands again. Mindful of the creaky floorboards, Jack tiptoes quietly around Jamie's room, checking every dark place, including the closet, where he gently pulls some of Jamie's clothes and toys aside to check for something.

The monster might be real then, Jamie thinks, the lightest tendrils of fear creeping into his chest. They had fought one together once, hadn't they, he and Jack and the others? For some reason, the memory of the monster is hazy, but Jamie imagines that he can make out dark horses of twisting smoke and a dark man to go with them. The details flicker away, and he wonders why he has such a hard time remembering during the day.

And then Jack closes the closet door, looking satisfied. Jamie closes his eyes again, but a moment later, he hears a rustling sound and feels the Guardian settle at the foot of his bed.

"Go to sleep, Jamie," Jack orders. "I'm not leaving." Jamie opens his eyes to see Jack smiling at him. "Seriously, go to sleep," the frost spirit says.

Jamie does.

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He's beginning to get used to waking up like this, opening his eyes to an empty room and frost at the window. This time, though, as Jamie yawns and stretches his hands above his head, he notices something different. Shapes on the glass. He slides from bed, ignoring the cold against his bare feet, and steps toward the window to see a scrawled message written in the frost.

No monsters. I promise.

-Jack

There are such things as monsters, after all, then. And Jack knows of them. Somehow, this only makes Jamie feel better. Because if there really are monsters, then everything is alright as long as Jack takes care of them.

The memories of darkness don't return.

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A/N: Pitch seems to kinda fade from memory at the end of the movie, and since he ends up getting walked through, it follows that Jamie and the others might not even remember very much of what actually happens during the fight. A disappearance like that might contribute to those vague feelings of unease, of something without a name that stalks in the middle of the night. Whether or not you think that Pitch is actually out there, stalking Jamie, is up to you to decide.

I hope you enjoyed it! This was a tough chapter to write for some reason, and I've got half a mind to go back and tweak it a bit at some point. But for the moment, onward! Thanks for reading, and be sure to leave a review!

~ket