So, I got a bit of a mini-rant for you folks out there reading this little fic of mine. This is loosely based off of a review that I recieved, and I'm just clearing some of the plot up for you now. Yes, I have a plot planned out for this fic. Yes, it is going to be introduced sometime in the next couple of chapters. No, I'm not about to tell you what it is. But...it begins this chapter?

And don't forget to drop me a review at the bottom of the page. I love hearing what you think of my writing, gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. Kind of like Tooth when she gets her hands on a nice and bloody tooth.

Warning: There is a lot of angst and hurt in this fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians.

Summary: He had always been alone, always taken care of himself. Why would anything change now?

o-o-o-o

"Ah, Jack. It seems you're still afraid of me." the voice murmured, a menacing rumble to it. "I thought you said yourself that you were no longer afraid of the Boogeyman hiding under your bed."

"I'm not!" he yelled back defiantly, though his voice wavered in uncertainty. "You're not- you're not real anymore."

The sinister laughter floated around him, taunting, light. "Now, now, Jack. Remember, I know all of your fears."

He hissed in reply, half crouching like a cornered feline, eyes darting every which way. "I am not afraid of you!" he snarled into the emptiness before him.

The shadowy dust whirled lazily around his feet, crawling up his legs unpleasantly.

Amber stared back at him from the centre of the darkness. "Are you certain of this, Jack?" Pitch asked, almost softly.

Before he could do anything, he was being dragged down into choking, suffocating Pitch Black.

"Are you sure you aren't even the slight bit...afraid?"

Jack struggled to gain breath, struggled against the binding heat that was trying to kill him, fighting to speak through the thick shadow dust but unable to. Panic overwhelmed him, more than it ever had before, and suddenly he could breathe again.

Pitch looked down on him with faint amusment. "Jack.." he murmured. "You should know by now. I know all of your fears. Including your inescapable, awe inspiring, fear of the dark."

Jack trembled ever so slightly against the ground, his breath coming in short pants, eyes wide. His brief bravery had run its course, and now he was completely helpless against any attack that Pitch could throw at him. The fact that his staff was nowhere in sight only worsened his condition.

"How your fear feeds me." Pitch murmured into his ear, running a finger down the back of his neck gently. "It makes me wonder, then, what will happen once I take everything from you."

"Leave them out of this."

Pitch chuckled again. "Oh?"

"It's me you want. Leave them out of this." he said evenly, his posture stiffening, his eyes suddenly boring into Pitch's.

"So brave, Jack." Pitch crooned, patting his cheek. "And to think, I'll be seeing you so very, very soon."

Jack's eyes widened.

o-o-o-o

Jack bolted upright, his heart pounding in his chest similarly to that of a hummingbird. His hair was tousled, his skin was even paler than it usually was, and a thin sheen of sweat coated his face and neck.

Almost desperately, he grabbed for his staff, in a near panic until his fingers clenched around the familiar knotted wood. He panted lightly, his gaze near feral as he scanned the forest surrounding him, the shadows lingering and sinister as they moved in the sunlight.

Pitch's words were echoing his skull, jabbing him brutally and without mercy.

He couldn't do anything to help. He was useless.

Jack choked, bowing his head in defeat as he stared down at his staff. He didn't see anything special about it. All it did was contain all of his power to manifest the snow and the cold and the frost. No big deal.

Besides, it was nothing in comparison to the Big Four. Sandman was made out of sand and flew a plane made out of his dream sand. Toothiana was part hummingbird and could fly. North had his swords and his eternal joy. And Bunnymund...he was a rabbit. A seven foot tall Pooka who painted eggs and had two kick-ass boomerangs.

And what did he get?

The staff that couldn't do anything to defend him when he needed it most.

He could have sworn that he heard faint laughter at that thought, but he brushed it off. Pitch already tormented him in his dreams. He refused to allow him to do the same in his waking hours too.

"Frostbite? Mate, you here?"

Jack froze. What was Bunnymund doing here?

Silently, he flitted to the trees, staff in hand, weariness weighing him down as he studied the Pooka. Bunnymund's ears were pricked for the slightest sound, he knew, and his scent would no doubt reach his nose if he didn't take action. Subtly, he called to the wind, asking it to cloak him from the Pooka so he could make a quick getaway.

Before he could quite accomplish this task, however, Bunnymund caught sight of him.

"Frostbite!" he called, concern evident in his tone.

Jack paused for only a moment before disappearing in a small cloud of snow, refusing to look back. He knew that if he looked back now, he would turn back. He couldn't do that to them. He was risking everyone by playing this game, and it was time that he took himself out of the picture.

"Frostbite!"

Jack couldn't help but look back at Bunnymund's distressed call, but refused to go back. He steeled himself against the pleading and the confusion in the Pooka's gaze, and he couldn't do much more than whisper a single word.

"Good-bye."

o-o-o-o

"North! Frostbite's missin'!"

It was amazing what three words could do to the Russian while he was asleep.

North bolted from the bed and was already half dressed, asking questions at a million miles an hour in Russian while Bunnymund just stared at him like he was crazy. Not that he was putting it past the man, mind.

"North, mate. English, please."

"Oh. Sorry." the man paused, flashing a miniscule grin before growing serious. "What do you mean, 'Jack missing'?"

"I mean, Frostbite's missin'!" Bunnymund retorted. "I went lookin' for 'im, but he took off when I caught sight of 'im. North, somethin' ain't right about this."

North hummed for a moment, stroking his beard and narrowing his blue eyes for a moment. "It would seem that it is time to summon the others."

o-o-o-o

Jack shivered in the biting, frigid winds, blankly staring at the gruesome piece of artwork that he and Pitch had unknowingly created during their confrontation. His staff was hanging limply from his fingers, almost falling from them as he allowed himself to be swallowed by the cold.

True, it was less likely for an immortal to die, but even they weren't immune to injury or sickness.

He couldn't take these emotions anymore. He couldn't take the uncertainty, or the pain, or the fear. He had to get away from it all.

Staring down at his bare feet, Jack thought back on the past. How he had woken, all of those years ago, surfacing from the lake that had previously been his downfall. How he had wandered for years, his heart slowly closing off and becoming as cold and desolate as the barren wastelands that he stood upon now. How no one could see him, feel him, hear his desperate pleas for someone to acknowledge that he was real.

It would only take one.

One thing to upset the delicate balance that he had hung in for far too long now.

Already, he could feel his thoughts slowing, the world beginning to fade as he closed himself off from thinking.

He leapt into the winds, allowed it to take him high, higher than he had ever been before, felt the air thin, and felt sudden peace. No one could touch him up here. He was immune to Pitch's taunts, and tormenting. Immune to the people who had scoffed at his name, said it with scorn as the cold came upon their lives, unable to live up to the expectations being forced down his throat. The list continued on and on, but he couldn't find it in himself to care any longer.

It was all about to end. About to disappear, like he was.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he closed his eyes.

"Good-bye." he whispered as he released the wind, sending himself plummeting back towards the earth.

Finally, he would be free.

The wind caressed him like a lover, touching him but no longer holding him up, no longer bearing his weight upon its loyal current.

He simply ceased to exist in the moments that ticked away as he flew through the sky, free falling, feeling nothing but peace.

He opened his eyes, seeing the snowy surface of the earth approaching, and allowed himself one last grin.

He had bested Pitch.

He was free.

Everything went black.