I asked a friend to type this up for me like a month ago, but she never did, so it's not my fault this is a month late. Just to clarify...

Anonymous The Nobody/Guest/jackvampire18: Thanks, I like that Jack's blind too :)

milefanis-cullen: Yo soy, siento haber tardado tanto. :(

AngelaZhang526/Readingdisneyfangirl:Thanks, It means a lot when someone likes my stories enough they reread them. Sorry about the wait.

Sapphiefiredragon/TheManwhowouldB: Lol, I get it, it was cute. And, yes, I can manage that.

ScarletBurns: Thanks :)

PhantomHeart/CecillliaMRamierz/SmASHxxx/nimelisacowong/Alice001/Just_Disappear_/: Thanks, andI am. :)

Nightmare6453/Fai_Snowflake: Now, don't hurt my bae TT^TT No need to get violent anyone...

Jack cursed when he slipped and fell for the third time that day. It had been almost a week since Pitch took his sight. That, plus the two weeks Pitch said he had been unconscious meant that he had been here for almost 3 weeks. That was only 7 days from an entire month. 7 days without his sight. He was still adjusting. The first three days without his sight, Jack spent in his cell, trying to map it out as best as he could without help, despite the chain on his neck.

Jack had done well, given the short amount of time he was blind and had been in that cell. Then, suddenly, on the fourth day, Pitch let him out. The king gave Jack his own room and said he could go anywhere he wanted within the catacombs. Jacked had asked why Pitch was doing that. Pitch simply replied, 'You have no power, you can not see, and I always know exactly where you are. What could you possibly do?' The sad thing was, Pitch was right.

Jack's powers were gone as long as his staff was broken and taken from him. He couldn't force his way out. Even if he could, he was blind. He wouldn't be able to even find his way out. Alright, say by some miracle that he had his powers back and he knew the way out, then what? Pitch would just get to him again so long as he had that stupid collar on.

Jack slipped again due to his lack of focus and he yelled out in frustration. The catacombs were damp and never ending. He got lost multiple times, and would reluctantly ask Pitch to help him. It was strange. All Jack had to do was simply call Pitch's name and he would emerge from the shadows. Jack hated traveling through the shadows, it made him sick and he felt empty whenever they did it. Pitch though, Pitch had changed.

After blinding Jack, which he still had yet to figure out whether or not it was intentional, Pitch was very distant. At first it seemed like he was actually regretting what he had done. Regret turned to disdain. Pitch acted like he didn't even want to be in the same room as Jack. Disdain turned to anger. Unlike the others, this phase wasn't changing or going away anytime soon. If anything, it seemed like it was getting worse. Pitch always helped him nevertheless, although, last time Pitch yelled at him for 'being so blind.' He said nothing after that.

Jack wasn't going to call for Pitch, no matter how lost he became. He knew it was silly, but Jack wanted to prove Pitch wrong. He was never going to learn the layout of the catacombs if Pitch came to his rescue everytime he got lost. Besides, he already knew how to get to the kitchen, bathroom, library, and Pitch's chambers from his bedroom. Jack stopped in his walking and mental map making. He leaned his head against the stone walls.

Jack was thinking like this was his new home; talking aobut what he was going to do and how well he was doing, despite the circumstances. Now that he thought about it, Jack realized that his stay here-besides being blinded and stripped of his powers-wasn't that bad. He ate meals regularly and slept in a comfortable bed, and Pitch hadn't touched him since the 'accident.' That's what Jack called it. Plus, he was left to his own devices, so he did whatever he wanted.

Eventually, the wall that Jack was using as a guide ran out, whih meant that there was a turn in the hallway. It was strange, not being able to see anymore. Whenever he came into contact with something new, he relied on his other senses to picture it. The sensation was weird as well. Knowing something was there, but not being able to see it. Jack kept his eyes open out of force of habit, but only a little. When Jack asked Pitch, he had said that it looked like someone had drawn a thin black line over his eyes that contrasted to the dull blue his eyes had become. Jack didn't want anyone or anything knowing he was blind, so he covered the line with his eyeslides, only the bottom half of his eyes were actually visible.

Jack stopped when he heard deep breathing. Whatever it was, Jack was not alone, or safe for all he knew. But what could have been here in the catacombs? Jack gently and timidly reached out a hand into the hallway. For a moment, there was nothing; nothing moved, nothing made a sound, nothing spoke, nothing existed. Jack heard something move, but before he could turn back in fear, he felt something touch the palm of hand. It was rough, yet it felt like silf at the same time. Jack could feel it, the loneliness and darkness together in one emotion.

Then, it made a sound. Jack knew that sound. He's heard it in the background for the past 10 years, but never paid any attention to it. Oh, but he should have. The sound was a warning; of bad things to come, of despair, of emptyness... of agony and suffering. The last time Jack had heard it was at the workshop, sitting in the chair by the fireplace, knowing that bad things would come. Jack had every opportunity to prevent his situation with Pitch. If only he listened. Oh, but he did now and he would never stop.

Nightmares. The neigh of a nightmare, a scream of darkness to come. Perhaps the nightmares were trying to help Jack from the beginning, sending out alarms of Pitch. Nightmares are such tormented creatures, seeing the fear and darkness in everyone and everything. Now that Jack thought about it, plenty of bad things have happened to him in the past 300 years, but he only heard the horses when Pitch was involved. The nightmare had just called out, though. How ironic that Jack was just thinking about how it wasn't that bad with Pitch,

'This is so nice, if only it could last forever...'

Jack's eyes were completely open now. He didn't care what the nightmares thought anymore, they were his friend. Those words though, Jack knew those words. It hit him. Those where the words he was thinking when he last heard the nightmares' call at the workshop. Jack would have fallen if he wasn't being held up by the wall and the horse. Yes, that proved it. The worst of Pitch's plan had yet to come.

Jack was interupted during his thoughts by the nightmare. He felt her head resting against his back and her neck over his shoulder. The nightmare was covering him, as if trying to sheild him from the pain to come. Jack shakily removed his hand from the wall and wrapped both of his arms around her, trying to comfort him as well. After a few minutes he pulled away. Jack couldn't take anymore dark thoughts. He stepped and scratched the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. Jack took a small bow.

"Sorry miss, but I seem to have gotten lost. Would you mind to show me back to my room?" Jack heard the nightmare move to stand behind him. He raised a hand and placed it on the nightmare's neck, following and using her as a guide as she walked, navigating them through the never ending hallways and corridors. Jack trusted her to be his eyes, and his trust was not misplaced. Even though worse was coming, the now was pretty peaceful.

The two decided to take a detour, walking around and finding different rooms to explore. The nightmare showed him how to get where, which Jack found quite helpful. Jack quickly discovered that the nightmares were actually very good company. The two had come across other nightmares along the way, each one stopping for a moment before continuing on. Jack's other senses have only increased since the loss of his sight so he could hear how many stopped and when. He could smell and taste their exhailed breaths while feeling them all the same.

They made their last stop, Jack's room. He opened the door and walked inside. Jack turned to say goodbye, but instead crippled to the floor in pain. He didn't understand it, his wounds had healed already. It felt strange as well, the pain. It was coursing through him as if it was his own blood that ached. Jack's body fell limp to the floor, unconscious.

When Jack awoke next he knew he wasn't in his room. it was colder where he was now. Although, Jack could tell he was laying on a bed of some sort because of how comfortable he felt despite the dulled pain he felt. He felt the bed dip from added weight of someone joining him. Jack knew it was Pitch. He also knew Pitch was smiling.

"Oh Jack, just look at you. If I had known this was what would happen, I would have done it a lot sooner." Jack frowned.

"What are you talking about? What did you do to me?"

"There was a reason for why I've stabbed you, other than for my enjoyment of course..."

"What do you mean?"

Pitch continued, "When I shot Sandman with my arrow, you saw for yourself how he turned into nightmare sand. Jack... I'm trying to make you the nightmare prince. That's why you were in so much pain earlier, your body was changing." Pitch slid his hand down Jack's side.

"If only you could see how breathtaking you look. There's patterns of black frost all over your skin and your blue eyes now have black swirling through them. Quite beautiful..." Pitch's voice trailed off as he leaned down, he couldn't control himself anymore. He placed his lips on the side of Jack's neck, nibbling and sucking the sensitive skin. Jack gasped and pushed on Pitch's chest to push him away, but in his weak and blind state it did him no good.

"Pitch, what are you doing? Stop, this isn't right!" Pitch ignored Jack's plea and continued, slipping a hand under Jack's hoodie. Jack continued to squirm. He hated the feeling of Pitch's hand and mouth on him. They left a trail of what felt like burned skin behind them. Pitch's mouth moved lower after he removed Jack's hoodie and undershirt, of course with difficulty, thanks to Jack. Jack shut his eyes and gasped as Pitch licked his collar bone before moving towards the rim of his pants. The young spirit shoved Pitch off of him and scrambled out of the bed, hoping he was going in the direction of the door.

Jack stumbled and fell on the covers of the bed that he couldn't see. He blindly crawled on all fours, hoping he was getting away from Pitch. The guardian didn't make it very far before Pitch got to him. Pitch climbed ontop of the boy, pushing his stomach to the floor. He latched onto the shell of Jack's ear, nibbling on it until it turned pink. He breathed down the boy's neck, smirking when he felt him shiver under him.

"Where do you think you're going?" Pitch nuzzled the crook of Jack's neck and shoulder taking a deep breath. He wrapped his arms around the guardian's waist, holding him close. If Jack didn't know any better, he would have thought that Pitch was trying to cuddle him. Of course, Jack did know better. Using the sense of calm to his advantage, he tried to pull out of Pitch's grip. Unfortunately, his grip was too tight. Pitch frowned, obviously upset that Jack was still refusing him. He would show him!

Pitch slid one of his hands up Jack's bare chest to play with the boy's nipples while his other hand slipped into Jack's trousers. Jack gasped and curled in on himself as tears sprung into his eyes. Why was Pitch doing this? Even when Pitch was torturing him, Jack never thought he could ever go this far. It was wrong. Jack felt soiled as Pitch pleasured him. He felt used, spoiled, and what made it worse was that his body was responding to Pitch although he was far from aroused. It seemed as though his own body was betraying him. Jack could practically feel Pitch smiled.

"Oh Jack, what a naughty boy you are. You said you didn't want this... such a liar." Pitch continued and Jack continued to weep. There was a loud bang just outside the door. The nightmare king growled and sat up, pulling his hands off of Jack, but straddling the back of Jack's waist in the process. The door busted open and Jack heard someone call his name. His heart swelled with happiness. He knew that voice.

"Bunny!"

I'd like to ask a favor of all of you, if you don't mind. It makes me happy to read and reply to all of the reviews I recieve from my readers, but it would be nice if I knew a little more about who reads my work. If you can, I'd like at least 10 of you to email me at thalia_gray-at-hotmail-dot-com about yourself (nothing personal or creepy, I promise) Maybe some things like:

Your name/age/gender/country you live in (I'M LOOKING FOR A FRENCH PENPAL, HEADS UP!)

grade/job

Favorite color/ice cream flavor/subject in school/music/shows/fandoms

hobbies/skills/talents

what you like about my writing (I'd like to know that myself, I mean seriously, what do you see in my writing?)

And anything else you'd like to put in there. If you don't feel comfortable with anything, you don't have to send what you don't want. I love everyone of you, and please don't forget to review!