Solitude and Darkness

Ch. 7.

EDITED by The Fallen Angel of Pain!

~S~

~s~s~S~s~s~

'What are you hiding from me?'

This was Jack's first thought when the doors to their holding room were shut. After the incident with Hal and Bunny, Libra had called for a brief recess so everyone would calm down, and to consult with Time and Nature in private. He and the Guardians were then escorted to a rather plain sitting room – aptly named, seeing as it only hosted a couple couches, a few chairs, and a single coffee table. No windows were seen on any of the four walls, a fact that would have driven Jack mad under any other circumstance. But right now, his brain was in too much of a blurring rush to really register his surroundings.

His head felt like it was buzzing, like his skull was stuffed with cotton and angry bees. Words weren't registering to him. He couldn't even notice how soft and comfortable the couch he was sitting in was. He couldn't even pay any mind to the Guardians, all of whom were speaking frantically amongst themselves as they voiced their anxieties and concerns. Well, more like Bunny was yelling, Sandy was trying to catch people's attention (and failing), Tooth was fidgeting, and North was trying to calm everyone with his bellowing voice. So far, no one's words were reaching anyone's ears – vaguely he noted that the guards no doubt posted outside could probably hear them.

But for Jack, he wasn't worried about the situation at present. He was too focused on everything that had transpired in the courtroom, and at an all too slow pace. He felt like a broken VCR recording…

At first, the frost sprite was too caught up in Patrick's parting words to fully think properly. The Leprechaun was never known for being enigmatic or subtle – he was all bluntness and brutal honesty. And yet, for some reason, those vague words he spoke to Jack had left an impact even more painful than any other form of tactlessness he could have given. It left the sprite feeling like a hole had been punched into his gut. He felt hollowed out, raw and exposed.

This was all too much, too overwhelming. The Court, the accusations, the gazes of other spirits, the scrutiny, the confusion, the lies? He didn't know what to believe anymore! All of these things everyone kept saying, all of this overly common knowledge that he had somehow missed out on, it made Jack want to blast his own head off and crawl under a rock. The pitying and disgusted looks he kept getting for his ignorance weren't helping either – and he honestly wasn't sure which he disliked more; the pity or the loathing. And Bunny's words…

"You're nothing but his and Samhain's whore, after all."

Anger and disbelief rose like bile in Jack's chest. Bunny, like Patrick, was never a tactical speaker. The filter between his brain and his mouth was even worse than Jack's sometimes, and even to this day, he spouted off hurtful things to Jack whenever he was angry at him. But it was one thing to insult Jack himself; his words towards Hal were out of line. But it didn't make them any less odd either. Hal was not the type to sleep around with others. And he mentioned Samhain*. He and Hal were supposedly close – was there more to it than just a master-apprentice relationship? And Pitch – he didn't even know if Hal knew Pitch personally. He never mentioned the shade…

"He was OUR king…"

Or maybe he didn't even need to know Pitch personally…

'This doesn't make sense…' Jack's teeth were unknowingly gritting behind his lips, and if Tooth wasn't so distracted, she would probably be berating him for trying to damage his teeth.

Jack swallowed dryly – when did his mouth become so dry? His hands were unknowingly shaking, his fingers clenching to try and grasp at something that was no longer there. Where was his staff anyways? What was going to happen now? Did they now have no chance of getting out of this trial unscathed? And if they did, was everything just going to go back to normal, like none of this had ever happened?

'No…' The all too obvious answer nearly made Jack retch. Reality was crashing into him – he was spinning out of control; not unlike those cars he had seen after slicking roads with ice. He was spinning, he couldn't stop, he was going to-

"Jack?"

Gasping, his neck recoiling so he was now facing forwards, Jack stared up at the group of Guardians. All four of them were staring at him in a colorful mix of concern, anxiety, and apprehension. To him, they were just being weird and staring at him for no real reason. To them, they were looking at a very, very pale boy with a prominent sheen of sweat on his brow, his narrow chest heaving with shuddering breaths. His hands were still shaking, and whatever form of pigment he had in his skin had all but vanished, making his blown blue eyes all the more prominent.

North fixed Jack a concerned look before speaking. "Jack, are you alright…?" he asked meticulously.

Jack swallowed dryly around a lump in his throat. He didn't know how to answer that question. How was he supposed to answer that? Yes, he was fine? No, he felt like he was going to implode on himself from stress and anxiety? Does he lie? Does he tell the truth? Does he tell them how disgusted he feels about Bunnymund's words? Does he tell them how sick he feels for all these chain reactions happening to others because of Pitch's defeat?

Does he tell them how scared he is…?

"Jack." The named frost spirit hissed a gasp when a large, hot hand settled on his shoulder. His eyes veered up and into North's concerned face – when had he moved?

"Everything will be fine," the larger Guardian said with an almost hesitant smile, "We simply must explain ourselves. We are Guardians! We shall battle through this."

We are Guardians…why did that statement almost make Jack want to cringe?

He didn't have time to contemplate further, as the door to their suite was opened by a male guard. The eagle-man crossed his hands formally behind his back and nodded to the Guardians.

"Court is back in order, and Judge Libra awaits your return," he said simply.

The Guardians immediately stood up and gathered around the door. The guard did not move to lead them to the Courtroom, and it took them a moment to realize why and for them to turn their heads around. Jack was still where he had been left sitting, staring down at the marble floor with an almost nauseous look on his face. His fingers were digging into the plush cushion of his chair, and his eyes were blown wide open.

He looked petrified.

"Master Frost," the guard started, "Please come with us."

The command was almost made to sound like a polite request. But every occupant in the room, including Jack, knew it was an order that could not be defied. Not unless he wanted to be dragged to the Courtroom in cuffs and chains. He had little doubt they would do just that too.

Mechanically, like one of North's toy robots, Jack stiffly rose from his chair and followed his fellow Guardians out. He was in a new place, and usually this would prompt Jack to stick closer than usual to the group. However, with his mind so full of chaotic resolve, his emotions buzzing uncontrollably, he was unaware of him being almost eight feet away from the closest Guardian. He was so far out of his own body, his mind seemingly drifting in the winds he so loved to ride on.

What was going to happen now? Were things going to go in their favor now? Was it going to get worse? And Pitch, had he woken up yet? Was he okay? Will he ever be okay?

'Why would he ever be 'okay'?' he thought to himself in a rare moment of cynicism, 'You buried the man alive, and with nothing but Nightmares and Fearlings to keep him company.'

Company…he almost wanted to laugh at the word. Almost.

'You did this, you know…' something in his head said, 'If only you didn't make such a mess for everyone…pathetic.'

Jack suddenly froze at his own thoughts. But they were…also not his thoughts?

"Jack!"

The named spirit's head shot up from its craned position. His wide eyes stared up at the waiting Guardians and the Guards, all of whom were standing outside an all too familiar door. When did they even reach it? The trip to the suite had taken ten minutes, but it felt like only seconds going back to the Court…

"We're here…" Jack said, his voice hollow and cracked, as if he hadn't spoken or used his voice in years.

North nodded sagely. "Yes, we are."

Without giving the Guardians a second's notice, the Guard nodded to the other two stationed on either side of the door. They both gripped the large metal knockers and pulled them open, the first ushering the five into the room. But unlike before, it was different.

No changes to the room itself were made, aside from the lights having been dimmed fairly low. It was virtually a black shadow up in the higher stands. But the real significant difference was noticeable. All but the higher spirits – Time, Nature, and Libra herself – were gone. The room was virtually empty.

Jack looked around the marble stands and at the remaining spirits as he and the others were ushered to their stand, confused.

"Where is everyone?" he asked quietly, almost afraid to raise his voice in the dead silent room. He was almost afraid being any louder than a whisper would break something vital to the universe.

"Dismissed," Nature answered, her voice unusually loud yet soft in the dim light, "But you will not be prosecuted without a proper jury, nor an accuser."

'Jury…?' Jack frowned at this, but looked up at Bunny when the Pooka nudged his arm, "What?"

Bunny did not say anything. He simply continued to stand beside Jack, his ears pinned tightly to his head, and his wide, hunter-green eyes locked onto something in the higher stands. The others were also looking up into the blackened area, eyes wide in an almost perfect impression of a deer caught in headlights. Jack averted his gaze upwards, his eyes adjusting to the dark until he started to make out shapes in the shadows. He felt his blood turn to nitrogen and his heart leap into his throat.

Hundreds. There were hundreds of eyes, all watching him and his fellow Guardians from the higher stands. All as colorfully varied as the spectrum, but all sharp and cutting like snake eyes. Some looked normal enough aside from their unnatural glow or pupil shapes, others made Jack think of the foggy-blind eyes of cave dwellers or deep sea crawlers. He would swear some of the silhouetted heads boasted various eyes, but he could not be sure. No, he could not think straight right now. He was paralyzed, stuck to his spot as those stone-cold, calculating, hungry eyes looked down upon him and the Guardians. His blood was rushing in his ears, only obscured by a rapid heartbeat, and for a second time that day, he felt like he was drowning.

He couldn't even manage a word before Libra spoke in her firm, commanding voice.

"Guardians, I believe you are familiar with sir Black's subjects?" she inquired. Jack's gaze broke from the feral animal-like hold the eyes above held him in, and averted them to Libra. His subjects?

"Yes…" North sounded grim, his baby-blue eyes still glued meticulously to the multiple eyes above them.

"Good," Libra toned curtly, "Now, before we begin, is there anything mister Frost wishes to ask about this situation?"

Her blindfolded gaze was directed at Jack, and despite her professional demeanor, she almost sounded condescending.

Jack felt put on the spot. He flicked his eyes to the Guardians and the remaining spirits. And for once, in all his obliviousness, he felt ashamed for being so clueless as to what was going on. All of this new, if not subtle, information was being absorbed into his head, and being wrung out as a million questions each.

Jack's hands clenched and unclenched around a missed staff. He felt so bare without it, vulnerable. He wanted it back more than anything, but right now, he just wanted answers.

"Who are they?" He didn't look up or gesture to the writhing shapes above him, but everyone could tell he was talking about the dark spirits looming over the Guardians.

"Pitch Black's subjects and charges," Libra answered, "They are like what Nature's seasonal spirits are to her, and you five to your Moon."

Pitch's…subjects. Was she implying that he was-

"Seeing as you are incapable of making the connections," Nature broke his thoughts, her tone sharp and heated like a fresh sword out of a forge, "I will make this simple for someone like you.

"Pitch's title as 'Nightmare King' was not just a self-given title. He truly is a king in every sense of the word, and right above you right now, are the shadows and monsters born from his fear and darkness."

If ever there was a moment Jack had to ask himself, am I dreaming? Now was the time. But then again, at this moment, the question he is asking himself was along the lines of, is this a nightmare?

Jack's sudden experience in a shocked limbo was cut short when an almost tangible wave of tension washed over him, and he looked to his right to see the Guardians all in various stances of tension and unease. Their eyes were looking anywhere but at the front and the dark shadows above them. If he looked close enough, he could see some of their shoulders shaking in some kind of repressed, writhing emotion. It was almost palpable, this unnamed…thing that groaned and rolled in their bodies, releasing a putrid haze of tension and white hot contempt. The misshapen thing writhing in them suddenly arched, and fell silent.

"Judge Libra." Jack nearly shot through the ceiling from the sudden boom of North's deep voice. "Please, forgive Bunnymund for his actions. He did not mean-''

"Hold your tongue, Nicolas," Libra hissed, "You are in my court now, and even the daftest spirit in this room can tell he meant every word. I neither sense the desire to repent, nor remorse. You will not defend him."

The Guardian of Wonder thinned his lips and clenched his fists to his side. But he said no more and only gave a yielding nod. Bunny, however, was glowering at some point at the edge of their stand.

Jack's dark brows furrowed in a deep, almost scandalized, frown. What was that? What was that sudden, completely random change in subject? He didn't even think they would bring up Bunny's actions from not even twenty minutes ago – because Libra was right, Jack himself could tell Bunny held no regret for his words towards Hal. He was not one to hand out apologies like his eggs or chocolates. No, the Pooka was not a forgiving or forgivable creature when it came down to his own contempt. Jack had yet to hear half the apologies he wanted from his past encounters with Bunny, but even he wasn't going to hold his breath. Bunny was a grudge holder, and would sooner hold onto his pride and anger than let go and let everyone else move on.

'Guardian of Hope…' He remembered, from when he was first taken on as Guardian, North telling him of each of their centers. Of what made them who they were, and what they did for the children of their world.

"Easter's about hope…" The defeated, hopeless way Bunny had said those words, so melancholy yet passionate…

But he didn't give himself or others hope of ever earning a simple speck of remorse…?

"Now then." Again, Jack is startled from his latest resolve by Libra, and he annoyingly makes a mental note to work on his listening skills later. "If the sprite is quite done brooding, we have a case to settle. Time, if you will?"

The mentioned man, who had been reclining in his seat rather comfortably – to the point where Jack had to question if he was, in fact, asleep – gave an almost exasperated sigh before straightening. Lacing his fingers together and resting his elbows on the desk of his stand, Time fixed his sightless gaze onto the Guardians with his usual serene smile.

"As from what my sight of the past tells me, I can assure this whole room that master Black did not have a peaceful moment during his imprisonment," he started airily, "His confinement was not limited to being crucified inside a cocoon of shadows."

"Fearlings and Nightmares are sadistic creatures, and so prior to his fifty-year-long confinement, they wanted to have some 'fun'. I saw the man myself, and I can say for certain; I have never seen such damage on a spirit's body, nor have I seen one bleed so much."

"They…hurt him." It was supposed to be a question, but even Jack's own mouth rebelled against his need for denial.

"That is putting it lightly." Time chuckled. He reclined back into his seat and crossed one leg over the other. "It was quite a show, really. Even if you had not put up that seal, he likely would not have been able to escape his imprisonment."

Hushed whispers and muffled inquiries ran above them all in the higher, darkened stands. The Guardians seemed to tense once again, that familiar thing starting to reawaken and thrash.

"We do not understand…" North said meticulously.

Time chuckled. "So I see. Well, to set to rest your confusion, I'll be blunt," he said, "Master Black would be completely incapable of leaving his prison, regardless of the seal or his powers."

"W-why?" Tooth asked hesitantly. She immediately regretted asking when Time fixed them all with a haunting, almost amused smile. There was a tiny flash of teeth as his full lips stretched into a wide grin.

"To ensure he could not escape, the Nightmares and Fearlings made a point in paralyzing him," Time said.

"Exactly ten minutes and forty-two seconds after you sealed him into his lair, they broke him in half and shattered his spine. He was twisted in half when I saw him in the pit of his lair."

~s~s~S~s~s~

"Yer an idiot, ye know that?"

"So you've said…fifteen times."

"It was twelve, and ye deserve it ye bloody brat…"

Hal sighed in exasperation, shifting in the cot he was currently lying in. As much as he loved Patrick, his scolding was getting old. It wasn't exactly helping his headache either, nor was it helping the throbbing in his cheek where Patrick had struck him. And the Leprechaun wasn't exactly letting him rest. Whenever he was close to shutting his eyes, Patrick's booming, Irish voice would break any building sense of sleep like a one-legged elephant in a china shop.

"Don't you have anything better to do than keeping me awake?" Hal muttered.

"Aye, I should be knocking yer pumpkin head off yer shoulders for nearly killin' yerself," Patrick hissed. Hal shut his eyes and took in a deep breath through his nose, willing himself to be patient and not to let the Leprechaun rile him up. It wasn't worth getting into an argument, and he really was too tired to fight back.

Hal's eyes opened slowly as he let his breath out steadily. A sudden thought came to him, and he made a point in avoiding Patrick's eyes.

"How do you think he's doing…?" he asked softly.

Patrick's tense figure, sitting in a chair by Hal's bedside, seemed to slump ever so slightly. His poison green eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned. The urge to reach into his pocket and take out a cigar was nearly maddening, but he didn't feel like being scolded by Libra's healers for smoking in the medical bay. Plus, his ruined jacket had been taken away to be disposed of, and unfortunately, he forgot to take his cigar case out before it was taken, along with his flask.

The Leprechaun ground his teeth in frustration – a habit he never got out of whenever there wasn't a cigar or alcohol nearby. He sighed through his nose and carefully crossed his bandaged arms.

"I don't know, lad," he said softly. He averted his gaze to Hal and quirked a ginger brow. "Ye can't sense 'im?" he asked.

Hal said nothing, only averted his candy-corn eyes to the ceiling above him. His gloved hands spastically opened and closed around the sheets of his bed, and his tongue licked over dry black lips.

"I asked one of the healers when you were being treated for your burns," he started, taking a moment to look guilty for unconsciously burning his friend, "But they said they couldn't disclose anything to me."

Patrick snorted. "Course not…" he muttered darkly.

Hal ran a clawed hand over his forehead, suddenly anxious. "This is a mess. How did this happen…?"

Patrick could only shrug solemnly. "Ye know as well as I do, lad. The Guardians are selfish and thoughtless. And despite ever'thin'…"

"Go on, say it," Hal suddenly said. Patrick frowned at the Homunculus.

"I don't know what yer talkin' 'bout…" he said flatly.

"Say it."

"No."

"Say it, or I won't speak to you for a year."

Patrick sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose. He scratched at the stubble along his cheeks and chin. He wished he was back home in his stone cottage, drinking warmed-over beer, and without a single care in the world. He wished this never happened, that he was wrong. But for once, the Leprechaun felt no pride in being right about something.

He sighed. "I told ye so…"

"So you did." Hal sighed, fiddling with one of the thin chains hanging from his waistcoat. His once bright eyes suddenly glazed over. "Will things go back to the way they used to be? Before they came…?"

Patrick's breath hitched, and a rare ache bloomed in his throat and chest. Hal had only ever asked that question a handful of times, and each time it was during a moment of crisis and pain, and of weakness. And each time, it broke the brutish man's heart, because he could only ever give the same exact answer.

Patrick reached over and rested his large palm over the Homunculus' forehead, stroking his ringed thumb over a thin brow.

"I don't know, doll*," he said softly, "I don't know…"

Hal felt his eyes burn and his throat close up. He shut his eyes, refusing to shed a single tear. He would not cry right now. Samhain raised him to be stronger than that; with pride, dignity – he had to be strong. Pitch would never approve of him crying over him.

He was so tired; he hadn't felt this tired in literal ages. Not since he-

Let me out…

Patrick, lost in his own thoughts, suddenly came back to himself when he felt Hal tense under his hand. He looked over at the Homunculus and frowned. Hal was board stiff, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, his arms perfectly straight and pressed into his sides. Hal's skin was pure porcelain white, and yet Patrick would swear he completely bypassed the spectrum and became even paler. And with his palm pressed into his forehead, he could feel the Homunculus' usually heated skin starting to cool drastically.

Worried, Patrick removed his hand from his forehead and relocated it to Hal's stone-stiff hand.

"Hal…? Lad, what is it?" he asked worriedly.

Hal said nothing, only continued to stare sightlessly up at the ceiling. He didn't even seem to be breathing!

Patrick turned away, about to call for a healer in the next room, but froze when Hal's clawed hand clamped painfully down on his own. He veered his head back to Hal, eyes wide and lips pressed into a thin line. He swallowed thickly as Hal's claws dug into his hand, drawing blood.

"Hal…?" he tried stiffly.

Hal at first said nothing, his gaze still fixed upwards. And at the tick of the clock on the bedside, his eyes half-lidded, his white pupils spread and swallowed the orange and gold of his eyes.

"Turn out the lights…"

~s~S~s~

"You…you're lying…!" Bunnymund rasped, green eyes wide.

"Am I?" Time challenged, his smile widening, "You know I do not lie*. Do you Guardians require proof?"

"No-"

"Yes!" Bunny interrupted North, the other Guardians gaping at him as if he were mad.

Time's low, airy laugh could have been described as delightful, pleasant, beautiful even. Like the deep, soothing bass of a chiming church bell. Such a sound would have – should have – soothed away any tension or fear in anyone.

It raised them.

"Very well…" Without another word, Time reached down to his belt and unclipped a simple silver pocket watch. He wound the thin chain around his fingers and brought it up to rest in his opposite palm.

With steady fingers, Time started to wind the watch. Once, twice, thrice, the steady 'click-click' of the winding mechanisms was deafening. A loud ticking was starting to resonate throughout the room, growing louder and louder with each click of the dial.

Finally, the watch gave an audible 'click' as it was done being wound. Time shifted the watch in his palm so his thumb was against the dial. Throwing a smile at the Guardians, he pressed the dial, and a silver flash blinded everyone briefly…

And when Jack opened his eyes, his breath hitched as he found himself in Pitch's lair.

But it was…different. It was pure black, without the grey-washed light that used to cover the lair in shadows and shades. In fact, it didn't even look like the whole of Pitch's lair, but the adjoining tunnel that led into the underground city of shadows. He could barely see anything, but even Jack could tell he wasn't in Pitch's actual lair.

Jack veered his head around, trying to find the others, but found himself alone. No Guardians, no Time, no Nature, Libra, or any spirit anywhere. There was no one.

"How…" he rasped, "How did I-"

For who could ever love a monster?

"NO!"

The frost sprite gasped and swiftly turned around, just in time to watch as a mass of writhing, screaming Nightmare sand and Fearlings charged at an all too familiar Boogeyman. He watched as Pitch was literally thrown into a rock wall with a sickening crack, the Nightmare sand writhing against the floor and walls like maggots in a carcass.

"Ugh…!" Pitch rolled onto his side, his face pinched in a pained grimace as he attempted to get back on his feet. But just as he was about to get up on his hands and knees, the Nightmares and Fearlings coalesced and charged at him.

"No!" A tendril of the tainted sand wrapped around his body like a violent constrictor, lifting him clear off the ground and squeezing until Jack could hear faint popping and cracking.

The frost sprite watched with wide, terrified eyes as Pitch arched his neck, his mouth opening in a scream. But no sound emerged, instead a spurt of his black blood guttered from his mouth, the same essence running down the edges of his pained eyes and aquiline nose.

"No…!" he heard the Boogeyman gasp, "I…cannot…I can't…f-fail them…!"

The writhing mounds of shadows and Nightmare sand unleashed a blood-chilling cackle at his words, the various eyes creased in mirth. The tendrils around Pitch pulsed and threw the Boogeyman against a broken stone pillar. The impact was so hard, the pillar caved in and collapsed, causing it to crash to the floor with a loud, stony 'bang'.

The Nightmares and Fearlings cackled joyously, the inky creatures lifting Pitch's broken and bleeding body out from the debris with such a gentle care, Jack almost forgot that they were going to hurt him. The tendrils cradled the Boogeyman in their hold, smaller wisps emerging and caressing Pitch's pained body.

Such a poor creature, they crooned, So alone, so broken, such a shameful mockery of a King.

Pitch choked a gargled cry as the small tendrils hardened to needle points and shoved their way into his wounds, the larger ones pinning his arms and legs to prevent his struggling. Jack didn't feel himself starting to shake, suddenly rooted to the spot, despite his brain screaming at him to save him.

Face it, you will never be seen. You will never exist, you can never be loved, the Fearlings giggled to themselves as Pitch released a silent scream, the needle-pointed sand digging further into his body and poisoning him with their toxic fear, Such a selfish creature. You can't even save your own subjects!

Pitch's only response was to cough, a large spurt of his own blood now covering his mouth and chin. He gritted his teeth and, miraculously, lifted his head up to snarl at the shadows.

"You…cannot…kill fear…!" he rasped. The writhing mass laughed loudly and madly, shoving Pitch into a wall.

Of course not! They cackled, a separate tendril breaking off from the main mass. It squirmed and writhed like an animal trapped in a bag, and it slowly started to take form. But what cannot be killed can be broken…

The mass expanded and pulsed as it grew and swelled. Pulsing like an organ, it grew and started to take form. Jack and Pitch's eyes widened in perfect sync, as both watched the familiar silhouette of a scrawny frost sprite take form in the darkest sense possible. The black shape settled its form, and bottomless gold eyes sprung open as an equally unnatural grin broke over the copy's face.

You're so pathetic, Pitch! It laughed, skipping over to Pitch on light and eager feet. I can't believe you thought that I would help you! Why would I?

Pitch was starting to gasp against the binds as he stared wide-eyed at the copy. But no sooner was he in shock than he defiantly glowered at the copy and spat at its feet. The copy blinked and looked down at the black spittle by its feet. It cocked its head before looking back up at Pitch, its grin widening.

You're no fun, it cackled, spinning on its heel to look at something to its right, Right guys?

Pitch averted his gaze in the clone's visual direction. His blood ran cold as he caught sight of familiar, black shapes watching him and the copy.

The carbon copies of the other Guardians, as realistic and menacing as the real ones, stood by with wide grins and mirthful eyes. The copy of North bellowed a deep, warped laugh not at all fitting of the former Cossack.

He is fighter! It said, a chuckle rumbling in its belly, All the easier to break him.

The copy of Bunnymund hissed and growled like a feral beast, seemingly incapable of actual speech. It cackled roughly and twitched its nose at Pitch. Tooth's dark clone giggled madly to herself and flitted over to Pitch, caressing his face with mocking croons.

Poor Boogeyman, she crooned, Whatever shall we do with the pathetic creature?

We break him, the North copy rasped gleefully, Like old toy.

Pitch growled and struggled in his binds, before he was suddenly released. He cried out as his injured body crashed to the floor. And before he could crawl away or make some attempt at escape, a rough, skin-scraping sensation wrapped around his ankle and threw him back into another wall.

He groaned as he willed away the spots invading his vision, but soon came face to face with a black-clad Sandman. The thing's beady little eyes and overly wide smirk sent a chill down his spine. Two whips of sand were protruding from the copy's hands, both of which were still gripping his ankle in a death grip. He looked up fearfully, yet stubbornly still, as the mock-Guardians surrounded him.

Destroy…

"Ah…!" Pitch's cry was cut short as the copy of Sandy wrapped various whips around his body, one of which wrapped around his mouth to silence him. He was lifted clear off the ground and above the copies, his body lying horizontal in the air.

Tear…

Pitch's eyes widened as he was steadily bent backwards into an arch. The dull ache from the bend slowly increased into a sharp pain as the whips bent him back further and further.

Render…

"MM…!" Pitch's eyes blew open as his back buckled, and an audible groan of grinding and straining bones reached his and Jack's ears.

Shatter…

Jack was shaking uncontrollably, every fiber of his being wanting to rush over and help Pitch. But he could not move, could not breathe, couldn't do anything.

'No…' he thought hysterically, eyes wide and skin clammy, 'No, stop…!'

The copies laughed lowly as the audible groan of Pitch's contorting body reached their ears. The copy of Sandy pulled the sand whips further and tighter, contorting Pitch further, until finally…

Break…

CRACK!

Jack's shudders ceased, but his eyes wide and fixated on the now limp Boogeyman in the Fearling copy's hold. Black blood and tears flowed down Pitch's stunned face in rivulets, the tendrils releasing his body and holding him up by his neck and head. The Fearling copies cackled at the paralyzed man.

Pathetic creature. The copy of North laughed. King of Fear you are not. King of Nothing you shall be!

Sandy dropped the limp creature to the floor, the Boogeyman's body landing haphazardly in a twisted mess. Blood poured from the unmoving mouth and distraught eyes, and it was all Jack could not do but just stare.

His own copy approached Pitch. Jack watched as the copy's staff shortened and morphed into an all too familiar dagger of Nightmare sand. The others surrounded the broken body, Bunny hopping behind Pitch and started clawing and tearing Pitch's cloak off, leaving deep, jagged claw marks in his wake. It lifted him up onto his knees by his hair and growled into the Boogeyman's ear. Jack's copy reached out and ran its hand over Pitch's bare torso almost curiously. Chuckling, the copy pulled its hand back and ran the tip of the blade down Pitch's naked chest, stopping to circle his sternum almost teasingly.

Don't worry, Pitch, it said, pulling the dagger back, You won't suffer being seen in such a shameful state.

It pulled the dagger back, and just as Jack regained control of his feet and made to run for the helpless shade, the copy brought it down and plunged it into Pitch's chest…

…and then Jack was back in Libra's Court.

The frost sprite was completely dazed, as if he were outside his own body and floating in a dark limbo. Oblivious as he was, Jack was unaware of the state his fellow Guardians were in. North and Bunny both looked disgustingly distraught and sick, both of them shaking and looking ready to collapse. Tooth was using the desk of their stand to support herself, her hand clamped over her mouth, and her amethyst eyes wide and bright with unshed tears. Sandy was literally on the floor on his knees, his tiny hands cradling his head and his eyes screwed shut.

Nature was also looking distraught, her hands clamped tightly over her own desk, her nails digging into the marble and causing cracks to spider-web out across the surface. Her dark red lips were pulled taught into a thin line, but there was also a faint quivering to them. It was all too obvious that, despite Jack not seeing them, they had all seen what had happened in that strange vision. And they were all shaken by what they saw.

Time, on the other hand, was completely at ease, reclined back in his seat with his cheek resting on his fist. He smiled at the Guardians and chuckled.

"Of course, it couldn't stop there now could it?" he said with a flourishing gesture of his hand, his smile widening in an almost gleeful grin, "His torture progressed and grew increasingly worse over the years. And whenever they weren't torturing him, they were giving him nightmares intense enough to leave physical wounds."

Jack couldn't hear him anymore. There was a sharp, screaming ringing in his ears. His knees suddenly gave out, and he was barely caught by the arms by – North? Bunny? Who was it? He couldn't tell. His sight was filled with images of Pitch Black. The Boogeyman, trapped, hurt, maimed, mangled bloody beaten pain pain pain so much pain-!

"Jack? Jack!"

Tooth? Oh, yes, it had to be Tooth, who else would be…?

No…no, that wasn't Tooth. The tone was too high, and there were…other voices? Other people. Hitched breathing. Low moans and shrill cries. There was the sound of grieving moans and sobs, and animal-like howls and whimpers. But there was also anger.

"You Guardians have blacker hearts than we do…" was the low, guttural voice that broke Jack out of his resolve.

"Disliber, be silent," Libra said firmly. A low growl was her response, and Jack watched uneasily as a pair of black and red eyes narrowed down at him and the Guardians, a large shape surrounding them.

Bunny snarled, "You'd know wouldn't you, Devil?"

"And of course you would know of hopelessness, Pooka." The shape and eyes moved, seemingly crawling down the stacked stands and closer to the light.

Closer it came, and with each claw-on-marble scrape, the spirit in question became clearer and clearer. Hushed whispers echoed above them all, and once the spirit, the thing, was visible, Jack felt nausea crash into his gut.

The thing was huge, bigger than North even, but with a lanky waist and overly elongated arms and hooved feet. Tattered, leathery bat-like wings protruded from its back, its grey and hairy torso riddled with scars and marks. The beast was nothing like Jack had ever seen. A head like a goat's with sharp teeth and jagged horns, a sinew and gnarled human torso with rippling muscles, and an equine form below the waist with a pronged tail*.

Strings of drool fell from the creature's mouth, and noisy, wet puffs of air filled the air with the smell of decay. The thick, pungent smell was making Jack ill.

"Jersey Devil," Time suddenly said, pointedly looking at Jack, "The Spirit of Deformed Birth*."

Jack's breath hitched at this, and he stared wide-eyed at the beast. That was the Jersey Devil…?

The Devil huffed another putrid cloud of his breath, his nostrils flaring. "You had no right in harming our King."

"Like hell we did! I bet you'd have loved nothing more than to see kids terrified and traumatized!" Bunny snapped.

The Devil's eyes narrowed. "You know nothing of us."

"I know enough, you bloody beast…" Bunny hissed, ears pinning back.

"Enough," Libra snapped, "We are not here to bring up personal disputes. We are here to settle the matter of sir Black and your gross actions against him."

"We did NOTHING WRONG!" Bunny shouted, throwing his paws up in the air, "He started it! He attacked us! He tried to take away our power! He's nothing but a selfish monster!"

Silence greeted the now panting Pooka, his furry chest heaving in restrained anger. The other Guardians were openly staring at Bunny in astonishment and disbelief, while the Jersey Devil, Nature, Time, and Libra looked impassive. It took a couple minutes for the Pooka to calm down, but when he did, tension fell over the room like a thick quilt.

A beat passed, and the silence was broken as Disliber turned and climbed silently back up into the darker stands. Bunny snarled after him.

"Where you going, Devil?" he snapped, "You got something to say, say it!"

"No," the Devil rumbled.

"Why not?!"

Disliber huffed and shook his horned head, not even looking at Bunny.

"You are not worth the effort needed to so much as spit, Pooka," the Devil rumbled.

Bunny bristled like a pissed off cat. "Why you fucking-!"

"Gentlemen," Time broke in calmly, twirling a finger in the chain of his now closed pocket watch, "You should save your energy for what is to come."

"What are you talking about?" Nature suddenly asked, narrowing her eyes at Time.

The platinum haired man only smirked, tapping a finger against the case of his watch. Nature was about to snap at him about what he was going on about, but she and everyone paused when a low rumble reverberated through the room. Time's smirk nearly reached his eyes.

"Let the game begin…"

A blood-curdling scream wracked the entire room, and the ceiling exploded and collapsed above them as monstrous tendrils of shadows broke through and crashed along the bleachers.

Another scream pierced everyone's ears, and Jack shuddered and felt his knees knock as he recognized it to be the Boogeyman's scream of agony.

To be continued…

~s~s~S~s~s~

1.) Samhain was Hal's master and guardian, and another one of my OCs. He is a very old spirit who raised Hal and mentored him to one day take over Sleepy Hallow, and take his place as the Herald of Fall, and the Monarch of Monsters. Hal succeeded Samhain a little over 500 years ago.

2.) 'Doll' is Patrick's affectionate nickname for Hal. As Hal is a Homunculus, his body constructed in the form a giant wooden doll, it quickly became his nickname. Mostly it's used in teasing Hal, but in some instances - like now - it's used as a sort of comfort.

3.) Let it be known that Time is INCAPABLE of lying. The concept of lying is a bit foreign to him overall, and while he may bend and twist the truth, Time does not outright lie about anything.

4.) The traditional description of the Jersey Devil is often given as a tall creature with the wings of a bat (or dragon), the head of a goat, and the lower body of a horse or goat (cloven hooves). Though many supposed eye witnesses will describe it in other ways, sometimes completely contradicting the traditional image, this is the most widely known image. Although many people will argue that the Jersey Devil has only one hooved foot, the other being a regular human foot. All forms of the Jersey Devil are up for debate.

5.) If you are familiar with the Jersey Devil's origins tory, this should make sense to you. There are variations of his story though of course, but popular vote goes to him being born of a human mother who cursed her 13th child. Another, somewhat recent, popular belief is that his father was the devil himself and was born to the real life family known as the Leeds. Their house still stands on Moss Mill Road, Leeds Point, New Jersey. See Wikipedia for the full Leeds story.

~S~