Not entirely happy with this chapter, so there might be editing in the future. Will include in A/N chapter 9 if this occurs.

Warning(s): Pitch!whumpage, too much fluff, the Big Bad approaches, lots and lots of fluff, bad decisions, fluff, plot hints develop, did I mention the fluff?

Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians and associated lore.

Begin!

Last time:

After a stretch, Eros glanced at Pitch's less than perfect appearance with something resembling half a smirk, "…Did Mount Olympus try to buck you off on the way up?"

"Yes."

"How'd it go with Eros?" Jack was hanging upside down at the entrance to Pitch's lair when the elder spirit came back bad-tempered and festooned with icicles.

"Said he'd think about it," the Boogeyman gritted out, walking stiffly in his twice-frozen attire. He'd had time to thaw on Mount Olympus as he wandered through the building to find Eros, and the second freeze-over was not appreciated on the way down. Not to mention the slip'n'slide of ice and freezing rain the mountain had prepared for his return trip.

Topographical abomination.

"Groundhog was the same," Jack replied, flipping down to the ground and following Pitch into the lair, "But… Is it really a good idea to help him get believers when he's so scared of you?" Pitch managed a laugh and Jack amended, "I mean, because he might turn on us."

"Stop thinking," Pitch replied evenly, "It's creepy when you do it."

"Listen to me," Jack groaned, stopping Pitch with the crook of his staff, "I mean, he doesn't even know you're a reanimated corpse-"

"No, I'm possessing a-"

"-Still creepy!" Jack dismissed, "Don't you think he might get scared off by that?" Despite the discomfort of his frozen clothes, Pitch stopped in his quest to get to the slightly warmer lower lair and thaw to give Jack a long, considering look. The frost sprite fidgeted under his gaze, removing his staff from Pitch's person, "What?"

"Are you scared?"

"No," he denied instantly, before a hint of hesitation entered his voice, "…You've got to admit it's a little weird, though." Still under the stare, Jack repeated, "I'm not scared."

"No," Pitch agreed, a little distantly, "No, you're not that."

Wanting to walk away from this conversation, but pinned by that look, Jack shifted his weight, frost spiraling unconsciously across the floor in whimsical patterns unrelated to the anxiety that had produced them. The silence got to him first, "Would you please share with the class?"

"It's not fear," Pitch made as if to reach out, and Jack unconsciously flinched back before he could stop himself, "It's disgust."

"Oh, come on," Jack retorted too quickly, "I literally have a Fearling in my pocket right now." But that wasn't the issue, and they both knew it.

"I don't think I… blame you, oddly enough," he said, finally beginning to move again, deeper into the lair. One hand gestured vaguely, "You have all these… morals, and it's not like you chose them yourself."

Jack was almost hugging his staff to his chest as he caught up. "Please stop talking like this."

"Of course, you'd rather I left this host-"

"-I wouldn't ask you to-"

"-if the Nightmare Men were too much-"

"-Pitch, listen-"

"-Why didn't I see it earlier? You-"

A mental shriek of frustration and Jack dropped his staff, grabbing Pitch's hand between his own and finally stopping the lonely-and-misunderstood monologue stream as Pitch turned back to look at him again, "You don't disgust me." He paused, thinking more carefully on his words than per usual, "I don't like that there was a person in there once that wasn't you; I'm not denying that. It does feel a little creepy to think that this all," he squeezed Pitch's hand, "belonged to someone else once. I've been rationalizing it since; duh. Couldn't stop, really. Oh, it was thousands of years ago; you've had it longer than any mortal did before you; you might actually need it, blah, blah, blah." Pitch had come close enough to emotional neutral to roll his eyes. "But then, I wonder what you really look like. Do you sound the same? Do you act the same? …Did he?" Shrugging helplessly, Jack's voice grew tight, "It's a lot to get through when my worst moral quandary before I met you was whether the amount of ice I laid down might be dangerous. Hell, I didn't know the word quandary before I met you. Sure, I would love to stop thinking again," he said, throwing Pitch's teasing comment from before back into the conversation, "but no matter what I'm thinking, it doesn't change the fact that we're still family, right?" Pitch was quiet, and Jack rambled on, "Whether you're an alien that sounds British or a shapeless blob of shadow."

"I have shapes," Pitch responded unthinkingly, strangely indignant, and Jack reluctantly laughed. The elder spirit held onto his offended feelings for a second, but the relief that had been growing in him during Jack's little speech pushed out and he gave half a smile to the laughing frost spirit.

"Shapes," he repeated, laughter trailing off, but a smile remaining, "At least you have shapes." Still, there was some awkwardness after that, a sort of tense truce. An afternoon positively filled with silence and meaningful glances, it wore on until eventually Pitch snapped.

"Go do something somewhere else," he told the restless winter sprite, "Play with children or make a snow day, just- elsewhere."

"But the Guardians-"

"If they don't know we're back by now," Pitch interjected, "They've had one too many eggnogs." Jack stared at him piteously for his curt dismissal, but there was a rising excitement in the idea of spending time just goofing off. "Get out. Go."

"Fine," he sniffed mock-haughtily, "Don't have to tell me twice."

Pitch grasped his own hair in his hands and took a deep breath, and, warningly, "Jack…"

"Gone," he replied, hands up in surrender before a summoned burst of wind threw him backwards and from the Boogeyman's lair, giving into the lightness of his spirit and laughing as he went.

"…Still in your pocket," Pitch whined, head clunking down onto the table as his forgotten Fearling fed him sensory data. He could almost picture Jack threatening him cheerfully, Never alone again.

The weary smile that intruded on Pitch's face against the desk top was permissible, he told himself; no one was there to see it.

xo0O0ox

At first, Jack's great adventure didn't bring him very far. He'd intended to fly somewhere in the Arctic circle, where his climate-bending would be less obvious. However, winter still clung tenaciously to Burgess, and Jack couldn't help a little peek in on the town. No matter whether Jamie could still see him or not, he had an attachment to the place, and he wanted to just… Well, check in.

Floating haphazardly, low near the streets, absently dodging bystanders and cars, it was almost as if he'd never left. As if sensing the thought, the Fearling in his pocket squirmed, and Jack grinned. Almost. He was well aware Pitch thought he wanted to be alone, but… No one really wants to be alone, do they?

Pitch would adamantly disagree, but Jack hadn't made him aware of that line of thought for maybe that exact reason.

The snow was lighter than it usually was, and Jack draped awnings with icicle drippings, asking and receiving clouds from the wind, as snow began to fall. It was unseasonably cold, for the tail end of a winter without Jack Frost, so the new layer of snow would probably keep for a while. Kids were just beginning to mill out of the school, though, and Jack made himself scarce. If Jamie could still see him, still believed in him, he'd probably tell the Guardians they were nearby. He really disapproved of Pitch, Jack thought with a little pang. His only believer, and the kid didn't even side with him. Besides, he might not even be able to see Jack any more. The frost spirit wasn't sure which was worse.

Shaking it off, Jack made his way to a little village he knew in the far north. They didn't see him, but his name was a common phrase there, and it was nice to hear it out loud, sometimes. Even if the adults said it with the feel of a curse. The less friendly spirits there had been acting up recently, too. Jack felt a visit might boost morale, for both the children and himself.

The wind brought him there at speeds that would break the bones of a lesser man, trying to cheer him, and Jack cracked a grin, diving down at a group of children with mischief on his mind. "Look out below!"

xo0O0ox

In Bunnymund's Warren, an invasion was taking place.

"Ooh, that wasn't here last time!"

Bunnymund hunkered down, checking on some experiments, keeping his ears down, and not responding to the excited voice.

"Yes! Bunny has remodeled!" The other voice joked.

Head down, he repeated to himself, keep your head down until Sandy gets here. Tooth was flitting about his home with North plodding patiently at her heels- er- wingtips? Anyway, the Guardians were assembling to plan for recent events. North had visited Nature and she'd told them all she'd managed to learn, most of which, North admitted, was outdated. Being locked away with just her creations really gave her difficulties in keeping current. Toothiana didn't spend much time in the Warren, since she didn't like tunnels, but that unfamiliarity was spiking her hyper meter to new heights. Though North was taking some weird paternal joy from it, Bunnymund was staying uninvolved.

"I'm ninety percent sure this is new," Toothiana decided, pointing at an old statue as she hovered around it, dashing from side to side, "Ninety percent."

"Of course," North agreed with a belly laugh, Toothiana having not yet caught onto his lack of candor. Bunnymund glanced desperately towards the sky-accessible entrance for a glimpse of golden sand.

"Though, that looks familiar," the Tooth Fairy mused, about to poke at a delicate set up where Bunnymund had been examining a strange yellow-green substance, and the poor Pooka finally lost his temper.

"That's new- don't touch it- the statue is ancient, I have never remodeled in my life, and stop looking at everything so close!"

"Closely," Toothiana corrected automatically and Bunnymund threw an empty petri dish at her smiling face.

xo0O0ox

Soon after Jack vacated the premises, Pitch took out the Big Bad Book of Spiritual Happenings. Or, er- he retrieved an old book Jack had once stolen from him, and later nicknamed accordingly. He shook his head, trying again to block the input from the Fearling in Jack's pocket. When Jack kept Fearlings near him for too long, it became increasingly difficult to separate Jack from his thought process. Something to look into later, but not overly worrying. Flipping past the spirit-fading poison requiring chicken's teeth of all things, Pitch found what he was looking for. The entry on spirit creation sat open and waiting before him.

It wasn't that, like Jack, he had any moral squeamishness about his own situation, no… Nature had said something about the Man in the Moon- Tsar Lunanova- creating Jack. Pitch hadn't realized Lunanova had that sort of power, and, while he knew it might be playing into Nature's hands to take her words meant to distract so seriously, he couldn't help but worry what that meant for Jack's true loyalties. Even if Jack thought he was dedicated to Pitch's side now, should Lunanova have some sort of supernatural bond with or sway over him from being his creator, Pitch would like to find out now rather than when Lunanova activated him like a sleeper agent.

…And maybe he was hoping to find something to remove that doubt from his mind. Regardless, Pitch skimmed down to the part of the entry he needed and began to read.

xo0O0ox

Leaving a happier and thoroughly snow-covered group of children, laughing and rosy-cheeked as they faded into the distance behind him, Jack wondered if Pitch had as much fun when he scared someone. Sometimes, he thought snowball fights and snow sled rides were the "center" North had gone on so about when he was still chasing the memories of his past life. In his three hundred years, they had been the only things he did that felt important, up until he joined Pitch. Now, he had a family, a goal, a life, really. …It felt good. So, he and Pitch weren't made of quite the same stuff as other spirits. So, what? Pitch was still the same… Being he'd been before Jack found out, the same spirit who'd given him those things. Nature had probably been hoping it would drive a schism between them in case they escaped.

It felt like rationalization, it looked like rationalization, but thankfully, it acted like rationalization, too, and Jack felt a little better. It didn't stop him from prodding the Fearling in his pocket to keep it from tuning out the mindless chatter he'd kept up as cover for his deeper thoughts, but really, Pitch could stand to have a little more practice in patience. For the greater good, and all that.

xo0O0ox

When North had finished relating all that Nature had told him about how Pitch and Jack had behaved in her Glen, along with the dire warning that they may actually be recruiting disgruntled spirits to their side, there had been a heavy, pensive silence. Even Bunnymund failed to take it lightly; after all, the Guardians were painfully aware of how very many reasons different spirits could have for holding a grudge against one or all of them. North thought of the gift giving spirits of times gone by, and both he and Bunnymund couldn't shake the memory of the old religions dying under the omnipresent weight of Christianity; Toothiana pondered again if her title alone was enough to offend; Sanderson worried over the dream spirits that he guarded children against and wondered if he'd been a little too harsh in painting them all with the same brush. If Pitch used Jack as his recruiter, they could be raising a veritable army.

"I think the way forward is clear," Toothiana said quietly, breaking the others out of their progressively more depressing thoughts.

"What's that, then?" Bunnymund prompted when she didn't continue.

"For Pitch to cooperate with other spirits- no, for Pitch to even contact other spirits, he'd be relying heavily on Jack," Toothiana began, voice soft but steady with the determination of a plan coming together, "He's weak, now, and not well liked. Jack isn't exactly a favored spirit, but his reputation is better than Pitch's, and right now, after all our Timers went off, and from the way the two of them were acting in Nature's report, I think Pitch needs Jack. He's using him as a crutch," her eyes hardened, "and we need to kick it out from under him."

"How?" North put forward, "Capture Jack? Even after this last Christmas, we are not at full strength, ourselves, yet Jack's strength does not seem weakened with lack of belief."

"We could try to capture him," Toothiana explained, "or we could convince him."

"Pitch has him convinced already," Bunnymund snorted, but there was a sort of wistfulness in his eyes he couldn't quite hide.

It's true, Sandy signed, he's spent so long with Pitch now, that he's probably neck-deep in Pitch's web of deceit. Then, we must take into account the possibility that Pitch has begun turning him from his morals.

The three male Guardians went on in that vein for a minute more, expounding that Jack was lost to them, but Toothiana didn't waver.

"Jack is a Guardian," she declared, "In heart, if not in oath. I've seen the memories from the teeth he gave back to us, you know. I know why Lunanova chose him." Her back was ramrod straight, but to the other Guardians' horror, her eyes grew misty with held back tears, "He spent his life bringing joy and laughter to children, and then he gave it, to save his sister. If we could just get him away from Pitch, show him the memory, I'm sure-" Her voice broke, "I'm sure he'll come to his senses."

"There is way to temporarily get Pitch out of way," North said slowly, coming around to the idea, either due to Toothiana's appeal, or in a hasty attempt to forestall the oncoming tears, "Could cripple us, too, if does not work correctly."

"Not- not that, mate," Bunnymund tugged at one of his ears, "I still remember when you accidentally shot me with that thing. I was useless for a week. Kept wandering off into flower gardens."

It was very funny, though, Sanderson signed, and was ignored.

"I have installed better aiming system," North sniffed.

Suspicious still, Bunnymund crossed his arms over his chest, "Oh, yeah? What's that?"

North couldn't hold in a beaming grin as he confided in a pseudo-whisper, "I put crosshairs on the sight."

The Guardians knew that Pitch was likely still working out of his lair, but when they cautiously sneaked up to the main entrance, it was clogged with soil just as it had been when the Nightmares initially pulled down their master, and Jack with him.

"Maybe they plug it up when they go out?" North suggested, more to keep Toothiana in high spirits than in any sort of seriousness.

"Right," Bunnymund rolled his eyes and tapped it once with his foot, "I can open this up, but if they're nearby, we'll lose the element of surprise."

Pitch is still weak, Sandy signed, I can handle him if North's weapon fails.

"As long as it doesn't fail catastrophically," Bunnymund pointed out in token protest, but sighed, resigned to this course of action despite his continued vocal resistance, "Alrighty then, sheila and gents. We're going in." With that, Bunnymund thumped his foot once, hard, against the compacted dirt, and jumped into the hole that opened onto a dark cavern, his compatriots following just behind.

xo0O0ox

"What was that?" Jack whispered, feeling the need to keep his voice low if what he'd heard was what it sounded like. He leapt softly to his feet from where he'd been draped across the top of Pitch's chair like a fresh layer of snow.

"Uninvited guests," Pitch murmured, closing an old book on the Guardians' and other spirits' traditional oaths and setting it gently aside as he stood.

"Fight or flight?" Jack wondered quietly aloud with an uneasy grin, knuckles whiter than usual around his staff, but not quite tense enough to snap into a defensive position.

"Hmm, we are in my domain," Pitch trailed his fingers against the desk as he took a few steps in the direction of the noise, showing Jack a quick, vicious baring of teeth, "I say we see what they want."

"Could be the Groundhog," Jack offered hopefully as they carefully made their way through the close tunnels and around the broken down catapults and siege weaponry littering the wider areas towards the sound. At the idea of the Groundhog willingly entering Pitch's lair without copious forewarning and likely months of preparation, Pitch couldn't help but snort, no matter how many offended faces Jack threw at him for it. "Well, I didn't want to jinx us by saying it was Guardians," he explained under his breath.

"It's definitely the Guardians," Pitch breathed back with a little, mocking smirk, melting into the shadows as urgent whispers and shuffling could be heard. Jack realized, then, that they were just feet away from the original entry chamber they'd landed in after the Nightmares' betrayal. A contrived breeze lifted him from the ground and he floated silently into the room and up the edges, sticking near the wall and making his way to the cover of the stalactites hanging about the ceiling. There was more light in this room than any other, since the Guardians had reopened the hole and entered at midday, but the edges of the light dipped off into blackness far too quickly to be natural, as Pitch's shadows began to mass. As he cautiously surveyed the area, Jack finally caught a glimpse of the intruding myths, and his eyes widened as he took in the enormous lump beneath North's jacket. He was trying to figure out just what it was when he bumped into something that felt like gelatin's surface tension with the smoothness of water. One hand was resting innocently on it at shoulder height, and given that his foot had also made contact with the thing, it was clearly rather big. Jack turned to see this blocking being and readjusted his estimate. Very, very big. It was the Fearling, the one that passed over occasionally and turned everything to darkness. Its sinuous form was coiled about the stalactites of the ceiling and sprawled down the wall, and Jack's hand was on its face, his foot on its chin, and his body centimeters from the jagged, dangerous-looking teeth.

"Hi, Pitch," he squeaked as quietly as he possibly could, and it snuffed a cool breath across him in amusement. He didn't usually refer to the littler bits of Pitch that way, but it was clear that this one was going to be the exception. It seemed like a cross between European and Chinese dragons and a lamprey eel, sort of terrifying, majestic, and disturbing all in the same coil. Its head was smooth, and its surface the same texture as, if a bit firmer than, other Fearlings', and its glowing eyes were each the size of Jack's head. The wings stayed close to its body, as flexible as the rest of it, but the entire thing shuddered in anticipation when the Guardians moved a bit closer to the edge of the circle of light.

"…fairly certain the element of surprise is well and gone, now…" Bunnymund's voice drifted up to them, and North seemed to acquiesce.

"Pitch!" He shouted, "Come and face us!"

A dark chuckle spread through the room, echoed in the laughter of the Fearlings and the deep rumble of the largest near Jack. "No," Pitch mused, "I don't think I will. Why don't you come to me?" Still, the Guardians were sticking to that circle of light. If anything, Pitch's taunt seemed to make them more convinced not to head into the shadow.

"What are you doing?" Jack murmured, settling on the enormous Fearling's smooth, rounded snout and its eyes flicked to him once before returning to watching Guardians' every move- or lack thereof.

"Show yourself!" North demanded, but when Pitch only laughed, Bunnymund stepped forward a bit, towards the shadow, his tone turning wry,

"He won't show up. He knows when he's beat, don't he? It'd be a fool move on his part." The laughter stopped.

"Don't fall for that," Jack hissed, moving to straddle the gigantic Fearling's snout so as to look it in the eye, "Pitch, you listen to me, and don't you dare fall for that."

"No, it's not that," Toothiana remarked pseudo-thoughtfully, tapping her chin with two fingers, "He's scared. Who wouldn't be frightened to face the people they never win against? I'm sure he's just afraid to come out."

"Pitch," Jack warned, when the Fearling's wings rustled agitatedly. It gave out a low, apologetic whine, and Pitch stepped out into the light below them and behind the Guardians.

"So sorry for the delay," he said, uselessly slicking back his hair, before his hands clasped together behind his back, as the Guardians whirled to face him, "How can I help you idiots?"

"Let Jack see us," Toothiana demanded, all her playful taunting evaporating, "All we want to do is talk."

Pitch paused, and the Fearling looked at Jack questioningly. A beat passed, and Jack realized he was actually waiting for Jack's decision on this, when he thought it would be obvious. He shook his head, and Pitch continued below like he'd never stopped, "You know, I would like to. I really would, but it's just bad manners to force your family to associate with people they'd rather never see again." He began to walk the edge of the circle, forcing the Guardians to pace him if they wanted to keep him in sight, "Why don't you tell me? Leave a message, and all that."

"As if you'd pass it along," Bunnymund scoffed.

"Come now," Pitch chided, "What's all this hostility? You won; we lost. The battle's over, dears, and in your favor. Did you just come here to snarl and bark at the weak, trembling Boogeyman while you have him at your mercy?"

The fierce, defensive stances the Guardians kept up as they stalked about the circle opposite Pitch made it clear they didn't feel they had Pitch quite "at their mercy" at the moment.

"Let us see Jack," North commanded, with an air of finality, bringing out something that looked like a large, child's water gun and aiming it menacingly at Pitch, "Or we fight."

"A gun? Really?" Pitch vanished into the gloom, reappearing inches from the gun's side and tapping it curiously before ducking the instinctive swing in his direction and moving back towards the edge of the circle of light, "You can't possibly think something like that would hurt me."

"Not meant to hurt," North informed him, before abruptly firing the weapon into the Boogeyman's torso. There hadn't been any sort of increased tension in the big man or shift in his expression; neither Jack nor Pitch had realized he was about to shoot. Though nothing visible exited the weapon, the way Pitch spun about and began to fall made it clear something hit.

Jack landed before him, catching him just before he hit the ground. With wide eyes, he forced himself to keep his gaze on the Guardians, his staff pointed at them and the other arm wrapped around the Boogeyman's back in an awkward hold. He couldn't afford to check on Pitch right now, and he couldn't exactly drag him out of there with the Guardians still standing there. That left him hoping the other shadows and Fearlings in the area would be of sound enough mind to take action.

The eerie shrieking and rustling as they fled did not lend any weight to that hope.

"Jack…" Bunnymund took a small hop forward, and Jack trained his staff on the Pooka.

"It's Jack now, huh? What's that about?" Open mouth, release thoughts, curse filter system malfunctioning. Bunnymund seemed about to reply, but Jack interjected, "Wait." He shook his head, trying to keep himself together and hoisting Pitch up a little more when he almost slipped out of Jack's grasp, "You know Pitch is too weak to do anything to you. It took him over a thousand years to recover last time, and it hasn't been half a year, yet. What are you doing here?"

"We are not here to fight Pitch," North said softly, speaking as if to a cornered animal.

"You shot him," Jack accused disbelievingly.

"He would not let us see you," North defended, but he was still holding the strange weapon ready.

"It won't hurt him, ma-" Bunnymund coughed, corrected himself, "Frost. He'll just be out of the way for a bit. Though, considering the kind of person he is, he might not like it."

As long as they were being so forthcoming… "What does that mean?" Jack didn't have to wait for an explanation to find out, as Pitch stirred in his hold. In less than a second, the Boogeyman opened his eyes, caught sight of the Guardians, attempted to flee, barreling into Jack's chest and sending them both to the floor, and froze at realizing something was in his way. The whites of his eyes stood out in the gloom and his breath came fast and hard, but recognition sparked mutedly beyond the terrified lines of his face and he practically curled up against Jack's chest, his arms squeezing the younger spirit's middle to an almost painful degree.

The Guardians couldn't help stifled snorts and snickers at the sight of the mighty Boogeyman sitting between a shocked Jack's knees and clutching the frost spirit for dear life; their mirth ended when Jack's gaze landed on them once more, face contorting in rage and staff throwing off cold sparks that arced in their direction.

"What did you do?" The tone made Pitch flinch and Jack's free hand came unthinkingly to his back, the other still pointing his staff unwaveringly at the intruders before him.

"It's just his core," Bunnymund's paws were in front of him defensively, and North had lowered the gun. "If he were a better bloke, he'd be having a much more pleasant experience."

That explanation didn't really explain anything, so Jack turned his glare on North. The taller man elaborated, "The gun brings out core; but more."

"Intensified," Bunnymund put in.

"Yes," North continued placatingly, "Is just what was in Pitch before, but without other feelings to make lesser. Is only temporary."

There was something horrifying about the fact that this level of fear was apparently just a normal, everyday part of Pitch. I mean, I knew he was afraid of more things than I was, but this? Jack kept himself from looking down at Pitch with a not insignificant amount of effort, "Why?"

Sandy let loose a few glowing symbols, ending on a snowflake, pointing at Jack with a hesitant smile, and Tooth translated, "We wanted to talk to you, Jack."

"Well, mission accomplished," Jack circled his staff at them, "Good job, all of you. Take a hike." If it was temporary, he didn't need the Guardians here any longer than it took them to get out. While he might have been curious before, right now his good will and tolerance for the Guardians was in the negatives.

"Jack, wait," Tooth darted forward, just up to the tip of Jack's staff, "I know this isn't the best way to start things off, but we know Pitch wouldn't let us talk to you; especially if he knew what we were going to tell you." She put a hand on the shepherd's staff, frost gilding the feathers from her fingers almost to her shoulder in a second, "Please just listen."

It didn't seem like the Guardians to take a cheap shot after an appeal like that, and Jack could tell from the look in her eye that they weren't leaving until they'd had their say. He lowered his staff.

"Thank you, Jack," Her face broke out in a relieved smile, and she began to ramble, "So, I know I said it was something to tell you, but actually it's more something to show you, so I'll have to be a little bit closer, since I really need physical contact for this to work, and I don't actually want to be frozen solid and-"

"Okay," Jack interrupted. Any other time, a smile would be tugging at his lips at her nonsensical spiel, but with Pitch shivering against him, digging fingertips into his back, nothing seemed funny.

Her smile became hesitant, but she moved forward, touching the back of Jack's hand and they both flinched at the disparate temperatures. She drew out a golden tube and the frost spirit's eyes widened, "That's-" that freaking set of teeth.

"Yours, yeah," Toothiana finished before he could complete the thought, and pressed her thumb to the box's front, the memories sweeping them away.

It was like a million voices whispering, or a thousand lights flashing, and only getting a snippet of what was going on. Jack could see a boy with brown hair and eyes- playing with the other children in the village, herding sheep with his father, teasing his sister, flattering his mother, laughing and running circles around life. Most of it was more on that theme, but - going out on the ice - it was just a bit of fun – his sister was a worrywart – the ice had been thick all winter – the ice cracking – not her – getting to safety, but it wasn't enough – not her not her not her – switching their places and-

Everything was cold, and dark, and he was alone.

Jack was practically hyperventilating when he surfaced from the memory, almost feeling the chunks of ice slide across his face as if once more escaping the pond. His grip tightened on his staff and hard packed snow, nearly ice, smacked the gun from North's hand. Spikes of ice crackled and jolted from the shadows, the ground, the walls, slowly forcing the Guardians back, into a tighter and tighter circle. "You need to get out." Some part of him noted with surprise the steadiness of his voice.

"Jack," Toothiana's voice was pained, confused, "Don't you see? You are a Guardian! Just because you didn't take the oath, doesn't change who you are."

"I," Jack emphasized, "am Jack Frost. That person you saw in those memories," the name came to him like he'd known all along, "Jackson Overland, died saving his sister. The only Guardians here are you, and you," Jack almost laughed when the phrasing occurred to him, channeling Pitch's usual banter, "are quite unwelcome."

Every spike of ice pulsed in a burst of growth before settling back into their slower, menacing creep forward.

"Dammit, Frost," Bunnymund growled, ears back, shoulders tight with the other Guardians, "You don't belong here. Whatever Pitch has done was an act; he's not capable of caring for anyone else. His core's fear! Look at him!" He didn't get to say anymore; Sandy took the hint that the deadly sharp ice shards and points were trying to get across, and got the other Guardians out of there on the back of a golden manta ray.

When they were finally gone, Jack let his staff fall from his hand and clung to Pitch with both arms, moisture gathering in his eyes and freezing at the tips of his lashes. The ice filled the cavern with sharp edges and pointed ends, freezing over the entrance as the crackling, unnatural progression of the ice filled the still and waiting air.

"You'll be okay," Jack told Pitch thickly, not even sure if the other spirit was aware enough to understand, "You're safe." The lack of an active fear stimulus had at the least lessened the death grip Pitch had on Jack, but there wasn't much else to indicate Pitch coming back to himself anytime soon, and Jack swallowed through a tight throat, talking more for the sound of it than to communicate, "I didn't know you were going to be okay, at first, though. I was probably as scared as you, then." No response. From the way Pitch's breath rate was holding steady, Jack hadn't been expecting one. "Still, no more Guardians, around, huh?" The ice had cased them in, now, and Jack leaned back slightly against a more solid pillar of it. "That's thanks to this cool little accident, here, as you can see. Something else I didn't know, and this time just about me." Jack had never created ice on this magnitude before. Snow, sure. He'd zapped a bunch of Pitch's Nightmares once, too, but he'd never had much use for ice. Maybe slicking up a sledding hill every once in a while. All in all, though, ice and snowballs didn't seem like a good mix, so Jack hadn't explored that facet of his abilities. Pitch shifted against him, seemingly trying to bury his face deeper into Jack's chest, and Jack sniffed, recalling Bunnymund's pleas to look at him. Well, what had Bunnymund expected him to see? That Pitch was afraid? Snorting, the tears slowed and stopped, Probably. Not that Jack hadn't figured that from the Fearlings fleeing. Maybe he was supposed to see Pitch in this state and become disgusted with him? It wasn't anywhere near as bad as finding out Pitch was essentially possessing a corpse, and Jack was… Mostly past that. Mentally shrugging, Jack made himself as comfortable as he could between Pitch and his supporting ice wall and settled in. If he couldn't think of whatever it was Bunnymund wanted him to see, it likely meant it wasn't really there in the first place. He smoothed a hand over Pitch's back and sighed quietly in resignation; this felt like it would take quite a while.

xo0O0ox

In the light between night and day, a dark haired woman smiled sadly at the signs of Mother Nature's distress, darkened clouds and trembling earth that spread from her Glen in shockwaves of anger and despair. She came slowly to her feet, massive, sinuous crocodiles sliding off and away from her, into the water, and demurely clasped her hands before her, watching as an unwary young creature waded into the water. Jaws struck, and the water churned, longer than necessary for the creature to drown.

Her voice was soft as she turned away, "Don't play with your food."