-Sorry it took me so long to get this one out! Went on some college visits! Thank you all for your wonderful feedback while I was out! Other than that, feel free to comment. Enjoy 3 -

-Pitch's p.o.v-

The shadows were pathetic in the room. They barely clung to corners, receeded under the bed, lightly dusted the closet. They were practically shades of darker light, though I'd blocked the window with curtains and stuffed the bottom of the door with my own shadows, equally weak and flickering. It disgusted me and infuriated me. I'd never, not even when I'd tried to rip the belief from children, ever been so sick with hatred. It made me shake, made me want to scream and tear the whole Workshop apart, nail by nail, yeti by yeti, Guardian by sickening Guardian. I wanted to destroy it all, wanted to see the Man in the Moon watch.

I wanted the power to do it.

Really, I wanted the power to do anything. Wanted to feel the shadows course through me, feel them bend and break to my will, know them and their corners and their power. I wanted the control it gave me. I wanted to create a nightmare. I wanted to feel fear of others. I wanted to stop feeling my own fear.

An image passed behind my eyes. Red eyes, whinneys, torrents of shadows, a lair in crumbles. Four weeks, without stop. It had taken them four weeks to feed, four weeks for me to gain enough control back to silence them. To rip them apart with the last fibre of strength that I had left, to destory what had taken thousands of years to make, simply because the bloody Guardians wanted to watch an old man fall again. Four weeks of terror.

And now this, as if they think they can wreak whatever havoc they wish upon me. Because I'm the 'bad guy', the Boogeyman, and I deserve it. They're serving their MiM-given duty to make my life hell. And then...her. Alice. That girl that I'd had such a fleeting moment of hope for. That maybe she'd turn out just like my bitter, cold soul. What wonderful company that would have been.

"But no, everyone wants to be best buddies with the Guardians." I muttered to myself, back against the wall, looking at the door manned by two hideous abomanations. I thought of her, of her face, of that string plucked in the back of my mind. She was familiar, but I didn't place her in my mind. Maybe I had seen her that fateful night. Maybe I hadn't. Most likely the latter, for this feeling came from somewhere...far, far away. Another lifetime.

I shook my head to think of anything else, and yet I landed on something just as frustrating.

Whoever was taking the glory from my creations.

"And doing a piss-poor job at it, too." I muttered once more, and was extremely grateful for the first time that the door was closed, because I swore to MiM I was actually pouting. I wasn't upset, no. Anything that got to the Guardians, honestly...

Something a bit heavier settled in my chest, and I rolled my head to the side of the wall, facing the dresser. I took in and let out a heavy breath. It was the reason I was here. The reason I sat in this room armed only by two giant furry bastards. Why I wasn't fighting back.

Because I couldn't.

Not anymore, at least. I felt it, felt it even before I'd been taken back to my home, imprisoned in the cave where I'd spent so long planning, trying, all to gain some recognition. I felt it in my bones, in my chest, in something I'd thought rotted a long, long time ago. In my heart. The shadows on the wall were transparent. They weren't mine. I had none left. When I fell to Earth, the shadows were all I had. This time, I didn't even have that.

So I sat, and waited. For there was nothing else a King could do when they broke his crown, was there?

-Alice-

"This is gonna be fun, I promise. It's kinda my thing."

"I don't know..."

Jack sat at the foot of my bed, criss-cross and beaming as if there weren't two massive yetis standing outside. Honestly, it wasn't the yetis that unnerved me, they were actually just large, fuzzy people who had an affinity for making toys. No, they were fine. It was the reason that they were there that made me feel like the room was too small and my lungs weren't quite big enough. I frowned and quirked an eyebrow at him, not knowing how being locked in a room like some big, dangerous animal could at all be fun.

It looked like he was about to say something, but I gave him a look entirely not amused and he let off the smile with a sigh.

"Yeah, you're right. This sucks." He deadpanned, and looked towards the door, "I didn't know they'd set these kinda rules. I mean I knew they'd be a little cautious, but...this?"

"They do think I'm some sort of child-abandoner." I reasoned, thinking of the distrust that still lingered in their eyes, trying to mask it for Jack. Distrust that I couldn't completely refute.

"I mean, Pitch I totally get, but you? You're harmless!" Jack exclaimed, hands in the front pocket of his hoodie and leaning back, resting on the bed post as I let a trail of sand twirl through the air around me. Letting loose some power, some tension, anything. And thought of the man they'd escorted, in a much rougher way, down an opposite hall. Pitch, the man I knew from stories. And vice versa.

"Excuse me? Pitch couldn't darken a lightbulb right now." I didn't see Jack's face until he didn't respond, looking back confused to see his face mirroring mine.

"What do you mean?" He questioned, as if he really didn't know... I leaned forward to get a better look, as if his face would answer my questions. As if he really didn't... My eyes widened and the sand twirrled quickly around my head, dusting across red hair in front of my eyes and then mirroring the pattern on Jack's hair. He squinted and sat back, but I was still too focused. It clicked in my head, explaining things, explaining actions...and for a moment, I actually wanted to hold my tongue.

If I said anything, would they take advantage of it? Even Jack I'd only known for a few days. I couldn't say for certain how they'd act, what they'd do with it...with him. This man that I shouldn't care about, either. Honestly, if I stopped caring about strangers so much, maybe my life would be a bit simpler. At the very least, I wouldn't be imprisoned. That seemed like a nice step-up at the moment.

"You guys really can't see it? I know I didn't see him before, didn't see him when he was supposedly trying to take over the world, but...Pitch has lost a significant amount of strength. He just looks...tired. I mean, the man that I heard about would have fought back much fiercer than he did today. None of you thought that was odd?"

"...No."

"How are any of you still alive?"

Jack pouted, actually pouted, and said as he clutched the staff to his chest,

"Hey, not all of us are alive!" I felt my eyes go wide and tried to correct it, tried not to look so affrontingly surprised. Because I'd never thought that any of them would be...of course, I knew that it was possible, but the others just felt so...alive. They felt young, in the bodies they were born in, the bodies and souls they'd carried all their lives. Jack was different, felt different, but I'd never...I just assumed it was because he was Jack.

"Oh, Jack, I didnt...I mean, I'm sorry. I didn't know, I didn't think because you seemed so...alive. That sounds stupid. I apologize. I haven't spoken to anyone in millions of years." If there was an award for least-capable-of-maintaining-an-average-conversation, I'd won it twenty times over. I looked away from Jack to the window between us, seeing a landscape so breathtaking that, even now, I had to admit that this imprisonment wasn't as terrible as it could have been. Mountains. Snow. Clouds.

"Hey, it's alright,"Jack said, voice kind and almost chuckling, "kinda hard to tell with the whole 'breathing' thing..." He paused and I nodded, the little trickle of stardust floating between us lucidly. "...You wanna know what happened?" My head snapped his way and my mouth hung open for a moment. This was something certainly personal. Death being a bit of a touchy subject. Especially if it was, you know, his.

"Jack, you don't have to-"

"Hey, the way I see it, I got you into this mess. By the looks of it, until we decide what those things are and who's causing them, you're stuck with us. Might as well get to know each other, even if it's just us." He was smiling again, care-free. There had to be something else to this kid's smile if he was so willing to just give me the story of his death and still have it smooth on his face. I paused, and thought about what that meant, forgetting that I had to respond. Spending years in trees away from people made this a habit.

"Um- yeah, okay." Which was the lamest thing I could have possibly said in this situation. Jack just nodded, brushing over it and leaning back, drawing frost designs on the wall on his side of the window, as if he were going over what he had for dinner.

"I was sixteen. My sister, Jill, wanted to go out on the lake and try out some new ice-skates I'd just made her. She wanted them for her birthday, but they take a really, really long time to make, so by the time they were ready to go Winter was already ending. Our mother told us not to go, but man, Jill wanted to go out so badly. She'd begged me for hours until I convinced our mother that I'd keep her safe." Jack paused here, and my chest was already tightening. I gripped my ankles and decided to look out the window again.

"The ice was thinner than it looked, and in a few minutes I heard a 'crack'. When I looked around, there was this kinda spider-webby crack below her, and she looked so, so scared. I tried to calm her down. I was kind of the village clown in that I loved going around and playing with the kids. So I told her we would play a game, that she would take a few steps towards me and on the count of 'three' she'd be safe. I picket up this thing," Jack bobbled the staff in my perifrial, neither of us looking at the other, "and when I said 'three' I hooked it around her hand swung her to safety."

I let out a breath through my nose, chest caving. What I'd imagined wasn't, at least not yet, what had happened.

"...I'd swung her so we'd switched places."

My eyes were instantly on Jack, his smile still firmly there, but now a bit sad. A bitter-sweet sad.

"Oh, Jack..." I said quietly, but he instantly looked at me and lit his face up with a massive smile, one that I just couldn't wrap my head around. He turned on a dime, going from a terribly sad story to beaming like he'd just won something, like he hadn't given his life. He made me dizzy.

"Hey, I got to be a Guardian out of it! Three-hundred-and-two years and I still wouldn't do anything different. I mean, I was at the bottom of that lake for awhile, but I think my sister had a happy life. And now look at me!"

"Sitting in a room with someone who's said to have abandoned a child they were supposed to protect. Kind of ironic." I mused, and saw Jack's smile fall slightly. Oh, you are just so rocking this, aren't you? Millions of years in isolation ain't showing one bit. Ten points to you.

"Did you, though? I mean, you don't remember. Anything could have happened...right?" He asked, and I bit the inside of my bottom lip. My eyes went around the room, dark and filled with a dresser and nightstand. Beautiful carvings in the ceiling and walls. But I didn't really look at them, thinking about this, about how Jack had just told me something so personal and now here I was, thinking I couldn't do the same back...

"Anything, yeah." I nodded, and felt like such a terrible person because that's all I could say right now. Because Jack had stood up for me and, granted, got overzealous and brought me into this situation, but had been the first person to believe me. He deserved something, at least. "From what I remember, I adored the Man in the Moon. It's just flashes of memories, but he was more than my duty. I loved him like he was a little brother, we'd run and play. I remember making him smile, remember putting him into his crib...but that's it. Anything, you know?"

"No, I don't. I don't think you're the kind of person to do that." Jack said with such finality that it surprised me, but when I looked up he was cracking his back and changing the subject, "Anyways, it'll just take the others some time to realize that, too. Until then, trust me, I'll look out for you. Two peas in a pod! See they didn't trust me at first either, thought I was some punk kid."

"You are a punk kid."

"Hey!" He laughed, and I let the corner of my mouth twitch up just a bit. "I take offense to that-"

"Jack!" There was a soft knock on the door and Tooth's voice, cutting Jack off. Easily, he slid off the bed and walked to the door, opening it as I pulled my knees awkwardly up, looking over. He only had the door open partially, catching a glimpse of green in the crack of the door as his face got a different smile, his eyes getting almost softer. Were I not nervous, I may have remembered seeing that look in the faces of thousands of other boys and girls.

"Um, North says it's bed time and...well, Sandy's going to be guarding these rooms. He's done his rounds for the night, but he really does-"

"Alright, Tooth. It's not like she's gonna tear the house down, right Alice?" He asked, smiling playfully back at me. I gave a chuckle that was half-drowing half-wheezing. "See? Tell North I'm gonna take up my usual place. You wanna go get some coco?" He asked, twirrling the staff to rest on his shoulder. Tooth must have replied quietly, because his face lit up and he beamed back at me. "Night Alice! See you tomorrow!"

I held up a hand and nodded, watching him carefully step out of the room and close the door.

Leaving me alone in a room that seemed suddenly much darker, much lonelier, than it had with him in it. I looked outside again and saw the sun being to set, and carefully drew the thick, red curtain over the window. Just in case. And then the room seemed infinitely darker.

That night I burrowed under the covers and looked at the door, wondering if Sandy was really out there, wondering why Jack didn't want to know more, wondering if he'd changed the subject on purpose. I wondered a lot of things. But the one thing that kept me up was the man in a similar situation to mine.

Pitch, the man I honestly shouldn't be worrying about. Pitch, the man who'd been there when it happened. Pitch, the man who oozed evil and malicious intent. Pitch Black, the Nightmare King.

Who had no one like Jack to make the room seem lighter.

-Pitch Black-

"That is just...pathetic." The golden man silently snored, head resting on the wall beside the door and floating on that puny little cloud. I had half a mind to pop it, if only that wouldn't wake him. With a look that must have looked almost pathetically disgusted, I turned and walked silently down the hall. At the very least, I could still blend with the darkness that the Workshop provided, nestling in with the few shadows as yetis passed by, the darkness outside disrupted by the moon.

The moon that seemed exceptionally bright tonight. I'd walked what felt like minutes, but an overly-elaborate clock on a column next to a large window said it had been hours. I stopped, staying in the shadows as I gazed out at the glass, the window arching high above my head to the ceiling.

And, as always, he was there.

So far up above, making sure to look down on me both figuratively and literally. And he was just a man on a rock, a tiny speck that didn't even make its own light but leeched off the sun. Just a small mirror in the sky. And yet I could have sworn, after seeing him for so long, that today he looked a bit...preoccupied. He was looking at me, certainly, picking through the nets of shadows easily. But there was something else, something off-focus. He was looking for someone.

"Is she truly that important?" I asked, almost to myself, head cocked to the side. The small, fragile-looking girl with a sharp tongue and pitiful judgement of character. "You've gotten this far without her, whatever happened that fateful day. Maybe she's tied in with you and me, old friend. Maybe she isn't. Maybe she plays some sort of pivitol role, maybe she's just a background character. She doesn't remember a thing, so why all the fuss?"

I paused, mouth open as a thought wrapped into my mind, offering itself. My eyes flickered down, then back up, and I felt a bit of an upturn on the corners of my mouth. Oh yes, well, that's certainly plausible. The moon's light flickered a bit, imperceptible to anyone not looking. I took half a step forward and angled my head sideways, up at him, almost as if I could see that face. A rush took over, and I swore I almost laughed, because through all this turmoil this, this, could prove to be entertaining.

"She doesn't remember a thing...but you do." My voice curled over my words, and just as I said them a cloud appeared. It hadn't been there previously, but conveniantly ghosted over the moon and eclipsed it, casting the hallway in a darker shadow. This time, I did laugh. I laughed long and hard, and if anyone had been here now, they'd think I was a lunatic. Possibly, I was. But I was also a man who had to enjoy what few pleasures I was offered, and seeing him squirm, well...now that was wonderful.

"What are you laughing at?" I would never admit how quickly I side-stepped, caught off-guard by the small voice of the girl standing dangerously close. I hadn't heard a footfall, hadn't felt a presence. She just appeared like the cloud over the moon. Standing there, sweater far too large for her, red hair cut choppily and shorter than Frost's, face innocent and looking up at me curiously. Not judgemental, not assuming. Just curious. Something from eons ago had to be surpressed once more.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that sneaking up on someone is terribly rude?" I tried my best to give her a look of disgust, but she only shook her head and blinked her eyes. Uneven eyes. I squinted a bit, seeing how a faint light hit them. One was green. As was the other. Only, the left one held a ring of silver around the iris, very faint and fading into the rest of the foresty-green, but certainly there.

"I wasn't sneaking up on you. Really, both of us are just sneaking out. I happen to come across you." She reasoned, and I waved a hand at her.

"Please, spare me. As if we're here on the same accord." I thought of Frost sticking up for her, thought of the Guardians trusting him, and something bitter slid down my gut.

"We're both being held in rooms against our wills. The Guardians wouldn't touch us with a long stick. Neither of us seem very good at speaking civilly with people."

I raised an eyebrow at her list. Then paused, scrutinizing. And again, came up with a frustrating cement wall of a person. Which was abnormal, especially for an individual whose job is to delve into a person's greatest fear and manipulate it in any way they see fit. That was a power they couldn't take from me. Even now, in this state, I could see it shimmering under their eyes, see it shift beneath their skin, feel it pulse in their veins. Fear, unique and strong in each.

Each except for her. Where my eyes would slide through, delve into, where a person would open before me and the shadows in the corners of their eyes and minds would splay out like a painting, there was a wall. It jolstered me at first, when all I could see were two green eyes and a face very young, very scared, and very, very, very ancient. Not in her face, but in those eyes. There were worlds behind them, lifetimes, stories of epic proportions. And yet I could see only shadows brushing the surface.

Nothing more. But she was afraid, afraid of something, I just couldn't quite grasp it. And I hated her for it.

And yet.

"I'm just a crazy old man. I laugh at windows." I deadpanned. Her eyebrows raised, creasing her forehead, and I could have pinpointed the moment she held back a laugh. She did that, I had also seen after a few days of shameless trailing. It did something to me that I didn't notice at the time. Something small. Something monumentally small.

"You don't look old."

"Neither do you, dear. But I must say, you're older than most of us, aren't you?"

"We age magnificently." She threw back just as fast as I did, and I relished in a moment of almost calm. It had been long ago, if ever, that I'd been able to stand with a being and feel almost comftorble in a conversation. Maybe it was her shaky record. Maybe it was my delusionally weak state. Maybe we were both suffering cabin fever. Maybe this was some weird phase before I hated her rotten black guts just like the rest of them. But for now...it was comftorble. Laced with strange. Always the strange string that connected her to me, me to her, a string I couldn't quite pluck. Couldn't hear the melody.

"I don't think you're a strange old man, anyway." She continued, and it was then that I took note of just how in the shadows she was. Standing parallel to a column. "But I don't know much about you." It was not a statement alluding to anything. She wasn't asking for a backstory or diatribe. Just a statement from a peculiar girl. I felt, in a rare moment, compelled to reply.

"Neither I about you. Strange, how we were supposed to play such pivotal roles in the other's history... Speaking of which, you weren't lying, were you?" One green eye, one silver-laced eye, both looking down at the floor. Casting sideways. Flicking at the window before falling back to me. I knew she was old, ancient even, possibly older than I. No younger than the stars in space. And yet now, she looked every bit a small child.

"No, I wasn't. I don't recall a thing afterward, and barely a thing before...do you?" The question was quiet and I almost didn't catch it. It took me a moment to respond, and when I did it was far less stable than I wanted it to be.

"Do I remember the Dark Ages? I ruled them. I thrived in them. And yet I can't recall anything more than darkness and screaming. Must be the old age getting to me. Do I remember a time before? A time after? Darling, just a light and then this infernal planet." I lied. And she took it, nodding without hesitation.

I was the Nightmare King. I was the Lord of Fear. I was the Boogeyman. I was Pitch Black, who destroyed the cosmos and led the Dark Ages through to a mysterious finish.

And yet when she took my lie so acceptingly, a part of me felt terrible.

"I should get back. So should you, old man. The Guardians already think we're psycotic, genocidal maniacs." She mused, scratching the side of her head with a sleeve that fell over her hand. Everything seemed a bit too large for her. This Workshop. Her clothes. The worlds she held behind her eyes.

"Then go to bed. You're lucky I don't give you horrendous nightmares for calling me old." I called, as she began to turn. She paused at the corner, just a few steps away, and did something very strange.

She smiled over her shoulder. She held those back normally. She bit at them. If she gave anything, it was a smirk. But this, albeit small, was a smile. It squinted her eyes just a bit, caused the beginnings of a dimple.

"Good night, Boogeyman." She left without another word, and I watched as a trail of silver dust fell from the wall, right where her fingers had touched. It drifted to the floor, and once it did, the shadows around it flinched back. Circles around a pile of dust, as if it all remembered. Remembered a time when they were at was. I reached a hand out, but they merely quivered in my direction.

I had lied. About one thing.

I remembered the Dark Ages. I remembered everything. It was a time I escaped to, a time when I was King and every living thing knew I existed. It was woven into my very fabric. And maybe I did not remember her, the flash may have been all that I remembered, but I did recall her kind. Thousands. Millions of others. I remembered them, remembered the dust that seemed so innocent with her. Remembered a time of war. What she had used it thus far, even with the nightmares that weren't mine, it was nothing. Nothing compared to the Dark Ages.

But I'd held my tongue when she asked. It wasn't as if the information was important, wasn't as if it would explain what happened in those short few moments. It was a passing fact, if that. And yet I did not speak it. Yet I felt terrible for lying, while telling her the truth seemed impossible. I was the Nightmare King, and yet I could not pinpoint a fear that must have been so obvious.

I did not need rest, I needed clarity.

But rest would come first. Clarity much, much later.

-?-

"What happens when the pawn blocks the Queen? When it gets too close to the King?" The nightmare looked up, eyes red and flaming, but hollow of emotion. Void. I ran a hand through the sharp silt along a ribbed neckline. Peering up at the moon glaring down at me.

I smiled.

"The Queen takes the pawn, of course."