Chapter Nine: Fallout and Aftermath

North grunted under the weight of his sleigh, throwing all his strength into his shoulder. With a metallic groan, the great machine tipped back onto its runners, settling uneasily on the smooth stone of the spire. The reindeer – who, thankfully, had not been injured in either battle or the crash – snorted and tossed their heads, itching to be back in their rightful place.

"Tishe, tishe, Rachmaninoff," North soothed, stroking the snout of his lead. Normally, yetis hitched the team, but North had raised these deer himself, fed on magic milk that granted flight and speed. They knew their master's voice and hands and submitted to his guidance without complaint.

He was just hooking the final doe, Pavlova, to her post when Tooth reappeared, looking lost and distressed without her usual attendants. She wrung her hands in that worrisome way that meant she could barely restrain the urge to pluck her feathers from anxiety. North peered over the neck of his team and gently asked her, "How are things now, Toothy?"

"Oh…" Toothiana shrugged. "I supposed it could be so much worse. We managed to secure the teeth, mostly. Only a quarter of the vaults were breached. All the rest are safe and sound."

North nodded in understanding as much as in sympathy. He'd seen what Nightmares did to teeth and knew how hard she must be trying not to think of it all. "And…your little ones?"

A dry sobbed racked Tooth from head to toe. She clenched her eyes shut and her hands against her chest, pushing her frustration and sorrow deep inside where it could be controlled.

"Three dead," she said, her voice miniscule with the strain of hiding grief. "The last one, just now…she was so hurt and in so much pain that I just couldn't…"

"Oh, Tooth." North broke from his reindeer and gathered Toothiana in his arms. Safely hidden, she pressed her face into his coat and sobbed, trusting that he wouldn't let her fall.

Deep in North's heart, beneath the folds of mystery and fearlessness and care, an old hatred sparked, catching the flames of righteous vengeance. Tooth's fairies were so much more than magical extensions that assisted her in her work. They were her children, her family. To discard their lives so easily…! Pitch had stooped to a new and dreadful low.

After a moment, Tooth began to fly again. She delicately brushed the last tears from her eyes and smiled a sad, proud smile. "Still. You should have seen them down there, all of them. They put up such a fight." Her violet eyes darkened, flickering with the same flame as North's heart. "Those awful Nightmares rounded most of them up alive. Pitch has them locked away somewhere, the beast. I can't hear them, but I know they're alive."

"How many, exactly?" It seemed cold-hearted to ask, but North needed to know as much about the causalities as possible, to plan the appropriate counter-measures.

"Around eighty percent of the team. All the rest are working triple-time to make up the difference. It's hard, but they'll make it through." She rose into the air, observing her battle-scarred domain. "North. If Pitch strikes again…"

"Do not fear," said North, bringing her back down. He swung into the seat of the sleigh and tugged the reins from their hitch, judging the tension for departure. "If Pitch returns, we will be ready. Soon as we get back to the Pole, I send yetis here in force for extra security. He will not take us by surprise twice."

"North, no." Tooth buzzed anxiously around him, tucked up tight with concern. "You can't spare that much help, you've still got Christmas preparations."

"Preparations, bah." North waved off her concerns. "If you must manage with short hands, we all must do our part to assist. The important thing is that we keep your operation running as fully and securely as can be managed to protect the belief of children in you. Then we find Pitch, put a stop to his evil plans, and return your stolen little ones so that everything will be back to normal. Yes?"

Tooth, apparently realizing that she would never change his mind, beamed and chirped a delighted, "Yes, of course!" before settling on the bench beside him. Knowing her to be of tropic decent and ill-suited to the cold, North lay a blanket of fur across her lap before clasping her shoulder.

"I am also certain that, once he has heard of what has happened, Bunny will make a similar offer," he continued lightly, wrapping the reins around his hand. "After all, he has no use for stone eggs until springtime now. And who knows? Perhaps our new friend Jack Frost will have ideas for protection as well."

Toothiana giggled, nuzzling into the fur. "Maybe he will."

North was pleased to see a glimmer of something like wonder – excitement, perhaps, or anticipation – glimmering in her eye. Even in her grief and distress, his old friend stood strong.

With a call to the team and a snap of the reins, they took to the air over Punjam Hy Loo. Once they were well clear of the cavern and the delicate ecosystem far below, a portal to the North split open in the sky with a toss of North's magical globe. In mere moments, they reappeared high over the workshop at the Pole and steered straight for a landing with unbridled hope that the comrades, at least, would offer better news.

"Are you completely off your rocker?!"

Crash!

Bunny's voice was the first thing Toothiana heard when she emerged from the hanger bay on North's coattails. The angry shout was followed closely by a heavy crash that reverberated down the stairs. Seconds later a troupe of distressed elves rushed past, clutching the remains of a shattered plate and a dozen cookies as though fearing for their very lives.

In the thunder of getting up the stairs, they couldn't hear the fairy's response beyond some opening squeaks. Whatever she said, it frustrated Bunnymund right into pounding the floor with his hind leg.

"We gave him a bloody chance! 'Not that bad' my fluffy frost-bitten tail. Little blighter tried to have us all killed."

"What is going on up here?" North demanded, as they reached the top of the stairs. He strode into the globe room in three long steps, Tooth fluttering right behind. "Bunny! What is all this shouting?"

Bunny whirled on them, drumming the floorboards incessantly with one angry leg. Babytooth – that was what she'd started calling herself, yes? Yes – perked up at the sight of her mother, her tiny body ruffled from the fight. Behind them both, Sandy wore an expression of exhaustion but was otherwise oblivious to the whole ordeal, signing wildly to a yeti in the request of a very particular something.

"There you are," Bunny groused, bounding over to the face off with North. As he straightened to his full height, all the fur of his shoulders and ruff stood on end, puffing out with anger only barely contained. "I told you, mate, I told you this whole mess was a bloody awful idea, but did you listen to me? No, never listen to the rabbit, he's just being paranoid. Better to go runnin' in half-cocked and hope for the best. And just look where that's got us!"

"Where what has got us?" North huffed, pushing Bunnymund aside to clear his path into the room. He peered around the globe room, frowning when he didn't catch a glimpse of the one they'd expected to see. "What has happened? Where is Jack Frost?"

Bunnymund barked a laugh, humorless and sharp. "'Where is Jack Frost?' I'll tell you where he's at, mate. He's with Pitch Black. Because he's working for him."

Babytooth shrieked in fury and flew across the room, buzzing nose-to-nose with the angry rabbit. She sputtered and chattered so fast that the others couldn't hope to keep up, desperate to defend the good boy she'd met and known and cared for.

Growling in annoyance, Bunny brushed her off with a wave of his paw, sending her tumbling Toothiana's way on a bubble of air.

"Belt up, Sheila. Whatever you just said doesn't change the fact that your little iceman crush attacked us without so much as an ow-yar-goin. He wanted us all dead, hell, he tried to crush you. Like a bug."

Babytooth gave a shuddering gasp and burst into tears. She dove into her mother's hands with a mournful wail. It wasn't fair, she sobbed. Her Jack Frost was a good boy who'd never do evil things like the Black man but she couldn't explain the ice or the storm or the awful hail or the nightmares that came at the very end and oh Mama it just wasn't fair.

Toothiana bristled protectively, cupping the fairy close to her chest. "Bunny, enough," she snapped. "Don't you yell at her. We lost three of her sisters today and the last thing she needs is more to cry over."

Bunnymund's jaw dropped. His ears fell back against his head. He sank onto his haunches, eyes wide with dawning horror. "You mean…Pitch. He actually managed to…strewth. I'm so sorry, Toothy. I didn't mean anything by it."

He ducked his head in shame. Tooth's flare of anger died. She closed her eyes to ward off the renewed pain.

"It's all right," she said softly. "You couldn't have known."

An uneasy silence fell between them, heavy as new snow on a dark winter's eve. North sighed, resting a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Clearly," he said, "there is much we must discuss. Come, both of you, sit by the fire. Get comfy. We must talk." He lifted his eyes to their fourth member and frowned. "Sandy? What are you doing?"

The Sandman was accepting a silver serving bowl almost as large as he was from the yeti he'd spoken to before. Without so much as a glance to the other Guardians, he set the bowl on the floor by the fire and dug around in his clothes. He finally located a large glass bottle full of seawater. He emptied the contents of this into the bowl, sprinkling its surface with a generous helping of dream-sand.

Their curiosity piqued, the other Guardians closed in, Bunny crouching while North took a knee and Tooth perched on the Russian's shoulder. Apparently finding the perfect balance between saltwater and dream, the Sandman put his tools aside and gently moved the bowl in a circle, stirring the water without touching it. The water settled into ripples, which caught the light of the fire and twisted it into shapes and shadows.

Pictures formed on the water's surface, broken and shuddering like an unfocused TV. A bridge of black and gray flickered across the pool. Bunnymund's whiskers perked in interest.

"That's it," he breathed. "That's the place the Sheila took us, where we met him. Pitch's lair."

"Sandy," said Tooth, her wings buzzing soft as she could manage. "How are you doing this?"

Without looking up from his task, Sandman raised a hand, forming as series of quick images that ended with a golden salamander. The exchange lasted for barely a minute, but his companions got the gist: he'd left a tiny dream, too small to be noticed, in their enemy's home to act as a look-out. A spy.

Noth stroked his beard, visually impressed by their eldest member's cunning. "The pictures. Why are they so broken?"

This time, Sandy formed only a single image, that of a house. After a moment it shifted off its foundation and fell to one side, undamaged. Bunnymund nodded in understanding and, thankfully, soon explained it to the others. "Pitch's moving the place around so we can't find it again the way we did before. I do the same thing with the Warren every century or so. Ain't all that hard, just a bit of a hassle is all."

Sandy nodded and gave the bowl another gentle shake. The pictures began to come in clearer as the hidden realm settled, clearing the channel between master and dream. Soon, the feed was uninterrupted and perfectly clear, giving them a window directly into the heart of their enemy's lair.

The firs thing they saw was the cages, a good dozen of them, filled to the brim with shattering specks of green and blue. "My fairies!" Tooth gasped, cupping her hands over her face as her heart lurched. "Oh that absolute beast!"

Sandman made a circular motion with his hand and the picture panned in as the tiny dream scurried closer for a better look. The fairies in their cages were unharmed – frustrated and fearful in their imprisonment, but unharmed. They chattered worriedly to themselves, which echoed from the bowl in a tiny chorus. Was it over? Could they move? Get off my wing, I'm sitting here. What if it starts again?

Suddenly, the image jerked away, the dream-geko scurrying into a pipe in the wall to hide. When its picture returned, peering through the end of a rusted pipe, the reason became clear: Jack Frost had appeared.

He perched like the fairies did upon the top of his staff, which stood straight on an outcrop of rock though there was nothing to hold it upright. His hood was up and his eyes swollen and tired, but he still wore the slightest of smiles. He reached for the nearest cage, missed – was his vision going? – and grasped it on the second try, tugging himself close enough to peer through the slight gaps in the metal doors.

Tooth held her breath, but rather than do anything wicked, Jack Frost merely offered her girls a tired little laugh. "Hey," he whispered. "It's okay. You're okay, it's all over. Everything's settled down. No more moving for a while, I promise."

He folded his arms on the edge of the cage and rest his chin atop them. Sandy urged his dream a bit closer until they could see that Jack was now almost parallel to the ground, as though dangling between his staff and a cage was the most comfortable thing in the world.

"It's awful, I know. All that shifting and changing makes me sick every time. But you'll see. Things aren't all bad around here. Once you get used to it, it can actually be kind of nice."

Babytooth perched on the edge of the bowl and stared at his image with such concern and longing that it broke Toothiana's heart. In their distant cage, the captive fairies relaxed one by one, a few flitting closer to their visitor in curiosity.

But before any could satisfy that wonder, a deliberate clang from somewhere far out of the dream-geko's sight drew Jack's attention away. A second later the boy of ice and snow was gone, dropping from the ledge with only enough pause to catch his staff on the way down.

North sucked in a breath through his teeth and hunched closer, trying and failing to get a better view. "What is happening?" he asked. "Where did he go? Sandy, can you see?"

Sandman nodded, his hands flying with silent commands. The dream dashed into the pipe and down the length of the wall, following its twists and bends until the drain reopened closer to the floor. It peered into the twisted gloom and mismatched light of the shadowed Realm's heart, just in time to watch Pitch Black arrive at the scene.

A massive pair of wrought-iron gates – which had not been there before the Shift – slammed shut behind Pitch as he swept into the main chamber of his Realm. He bristled with power, fuming over his loss at the Tooth Palace. True, he'd technically fled from that battle a victor – scores of fairies imprisoned and thousands of teeth swiped from their vaults – but still. Still! It could have been so much more. It should have been more.

Jack, to his credit, had the good sense to appear without being summoned. He dropped silently from the wall and lowered his hood, balanced on the ball of one foot as though he were about to blow away on the wind with his leg as the only thing keeping him grounded.

Pitch eyed the boy without a word, his lips pressed into a thin line. He folded his arms tight in the small of his back and began to pace, crossing the room with long strides as he turned the events of the day over and over in his mind. Jack stood by, watching in silence. Good. At least he remembered that much. Children should not speak until they were spoken to, how could the world have forgotten? They'd gone soft, they'd all gone soft, he'd gone soft. That was the root of the matter.

Well, no more.

Pitch rounded on Jack, drawing his back straight until he towered over the boy by a full head and shoulders. He waited until the boy hesitantly raised his eyes to meet gold before hissing through his teeth, "What were the Guardians doing here?"

Jack swallowed hard, wringing the staff in his hands. "I, I don't know."

"How did they get in here?"

"Well, remember the second time you went, after you came back for the sword? When you left, you forgot to…" Jack trailed off, catching Pitch's glare as the elder narrowed his eyes. He back-tracked as quickly as he could. "The spells weren't re-enabled. None of them usual defenses were."

Pitch hissed through his teeth. That still didn't answer his question. He turned away with a sweep of his robe, muttering half-to-himself, "But how? How did they even find this place?"

"I…I-I…"

Pitch stopped, tasting Jack's fear. It held the bitter tang of a liar caught in his false web. He paused, schooling his face and voice into careful neutrality.

"…You?" he prompted.

Jack's gaze fell to the floor.

"You let them in."

"No!" Jack snapped up his head and pulled his staff across his chest. "No, I didn't, I swear."

Pitch spun on him and closed the distance, startling the boy off his balance. He stumbled back two, three steps before catching himself, panic overtaking his features. "You brought them here," Pitch snarled. "You sold me out."

"No. Please, you have to believe me, I would never –"

"Don't you dare lie to me!"

A crack rang through the chamber as Pitch's hand met Jack's cheek in a vicious backhand. Jack reeled from the blow, clutching his cheek in shock. It'd been over half a century since the last time he'd been struck.

From overhead, the captive tooth fairies cried out in protest. Pitch turned his gaze on them, his anger reverberating through the chamber until the cages rattled on their chains. "Shut your beaks or I'll stuff a pillow with you!"

The chattering died with a wave of fear. The Nightmare King turned back to his ward, who rubbed a pale jawline that was already starting to turn slightly blue.

Pitch folded one hand over the other, reining in the instinct to deliver a matching bruise on the opposite cheek and be sure the lesson sank in. Keeping his voice tightly controlled, he hissed, "How did they find you?"

Jack shrugged, clutching his staff, though now it seemed less like a shield and more like a teddy bear. "It was an accident. There was a tooth fairy, she followed me back the last time. I didn't know that she would…"

"I told you never to speak to anyone up there. Those were the rules."

"I didn't talk to her. I didn't even know she was there."

Fear continued to radiate from the boy, now tinged with desperation. He was trying to hide something, keeping the fear buried. It would be no use. "You spoke to someone. Who?"

Jack bit his lip and wrung the staff in his hands.

"Answer me."

"I…I didn't mean to," Jack muttered finally. "I swear, I didn't, but I couldn't help it. I was so tired. I just closed my eyes for a little bit to rest, but then I fell asleep and…he found me."

"The Sandman."

Pitch hissed in disgust, his hands clutching tight until the gray knuckles turned white from the strain. He began to pace again, his mind spinning. How many of his plans could be disrupted in one night? He'd been so careful, spreading the Nightmares from dreamer to dreamer since the start of the New Year, slow enough that the blasted little man wouldn't notice the change but steady, oh so steady in sucking the precious hopes and wonder straight out of the children's hearts. The Guardians should only now be noticing the change, their horror dawning with the realization that the scales would soon tip and fear would swallow all.

But no. One meeting, weeks ago, had tipped his hand. The Sandman found Jack. Jack, whose precious dreams proved such fertile breeding ground, who'd been instrumental in the creation of his strongest breeds, in whom the seed of night terror was planted so deep that every speck of sand that touched his mind turned dark and pale. Sandman could not, would not have come away from that encounter without knowing a hint of Pitch's plan.

Pitch paused, his thoughts coming back around to the present time. Some things had been explained, but not everything. There was the matter of the trespass and…

"…And the fairy?" he asked, his tone soft and dangerous. "Sandman doesn't work with the Tooth Fairies at night. Why did she follow you here? I want the truth, Jack."

"I…" Jack trailed off again, fear radiating from him like heat from an oven. Pitch waited in silence, suspicions rising, gradually stoking the fear as he allowed the boy to stew in his own mind. It didn't take long before the explanation finally came. "I took a tooth."

"You what?"

In an instant, Pitch's fury boiled over. He snatched Jack by his shirt collar and slammed him into the nearest wall, bare toes dangling a foot from the ground. The staff clattered to the floor, well beyond the reach of its master.

"Two rules. Broken. In one night." Pitch growled, pulling the boy away from the wall only to slam him again into the stone, knocking the air from his lungs. "I told you, I told you never to take anything that would be missed!"

"I-I'm sorry!" Jack clawed at the hand that held him, more out of fear than from any hope that he might actually get away. "I'm sorry, I didn't think –"

"No, you didn't. You stupid, reckless, idiotic boy!"

Pitch punctuated each insult with another slam against the wall, his grasp so tight that the collarbone he held threatened to snap. He flung Jack across the chamber and into the fallen cage so hard a dent was left in the twisted metal. Jack fell to the floor, gasping for air. As he struggled to pull himself up, Pitch reappeared, keeping him trapped in a tight circle though the boy knew better than to try and escape.

"Decades upon decades of fishing the teeth of non-believers from garbage cans and out of lawns and snow banks and piles of leaves. Centuries of building my forces, breeding Nightmares, discarding plan after plan until every detail was perfect. All of that, all of my hard work, ruined. Because of you. You did this, Jack. You broke the rules. It's all because of you."

Back at the Pole, the Guardians watched the scene unfold in stunned silence. Babytooth had long since fled her perch for the safety of her mother's wings, sobbing mournfully into the place between her shoulder blades. Toothiana's hands were clasped over her mouth, holding the horror inside. Bunnymund's ears pressed against his neck, unable to pull his gaze away.

Finally, as a second cruel slap found the same bruise as the first, North forced his head to turn. "That is enough," he whispered. "Turn it off, Sandy. Please."

Nodding, the Sandman ran his hand through the water, breaking the spell's connection until nothing remained. He cared the bowl to the nearest table, careful not to spell lest they need the connection again, but from the look on his face he was not eager to reopen the line anytime soon.

Bunnymund remained on the floor, his whiskers twitching. He drummed the floor with his hind leg and muttered, "I don't get it."

"What's there to get?" Tooth sniffed, fluttering down into one of the chairs and wiping an empathetic tear from her eye. "He's dreadful. A monster."

"Not Pitch. The kid." Bunny frowned, so busy trying to get his thoughts in order that he didn't bother to straighten into a human stance. "You two never saw him fight. He summoned a dinky-di blizzard indoors, with no warning, no build-up, no clouds, just wind and ice and snow from nothing. The bloke's a genuine, literal force of nature. So why's he lettin' Pitch knock him around like that?"

No one replied, though they all knew the answer. They'd all seen it before, in children that they could not save. Even as Guardians, they had no authority to interfere with the real lives of children, no matter how horrid and un-childlike. All they could do was offer support in their own ways and pray that hope and wonder and memories and dreams would keep the fragile spirits bright into better days.

North sank into his favorite chair, feeling older and more tired than he had in centuries. A pair of elves approached him timidly with a tray, offering hot chocolate and eggnog to all who would partake.

North's eyes drifted from one Guardian to the next, taking in each of his companions in turn. "We are all agreed, then?"

They nodded, even Bunny as he finally rose from the floor and settled alongside Tooth.

"Good." North accepted a mug from the elves and raised a glass to his fellow Guardians. "Drink, my friends. There is much to discuss. We have a rescue mission to plan."

Minutes seemed to stretch like hours as Pitch's anger warped the time-space of the Realm. Jack stayed down after the second time he was knocked to the floor, keeping his head low and his tongue still. This was what he got for keeping secrets and for breaking the rules.

Finally, Pitch's anger seemed to subside. He stopped circling like a hungry hound and faded back into the shadows, his footsteps dying to soft brushes against the floor. When next he spoke, his voice was weak.

"Why, Jack?" he whispered with a mournful little sob. "What did I do to deserve this?"

Jack looked up. Pitch seemed smaller than before, frailer, ancient and tired from the centuries he'd spent alone. His shoulders trembled. His eyes spoke of confusion, betrayal, and pain.

"Haven't I been good to you? Given you a home, tended your wounds, cared for you when you were sick? Didn't I provide everything you could have wanted, offered training, companionship, comfort – my love? And all I ask in return is to follow a few simple rules, rules I've only put in place for your protection. Because if anything ever happened to you, I don't know what I'd –"

His voice broke and took Jack's heart with it. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow him whole, so he'd never mess up and never hurt anyone again.

"But you can't even do that, can you? Not even that one little thing." Pitch stilled as his voice grew cold, the shadows falling over and around him. "You know what you are, Jack? You're selfish. Selfish and hateful and cruel."

Twin tears streaked, unbidden, down Jack's face. They turned to perfect hailstones as they fell and clinked against the stone floor.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. The words bubbled out again and again, laced with desperation and shame. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Please don't throw me out. Please don't leave me. I need you. I don't want to be alone.

And then Pitch was there, gathering Jack into his arms. He soothed with gentle whispers of nonsense sounds and stroked the ice-white hair. "There there now. It's all right. I'm here now. I'll put everything straight."

Jack clung to him, smothering the sobs. Crying didn't fix anything. He had to be strong, strong enough to help or at least not to be any more of a burden. As though Pitch could read his mind, the Nightmare King tightened his hold, rocking like a father with his child.

"It's not over yet," he whispered, though his eyes were not on the boy in his arms. "You'll see. There are still plans to be saved, steps to be taken, battles to be won. There's still time to recover. Plenty of time. And next time, Jack…next time, we'll do it together."

Next time. Together. Yes. Exactly as it should be.

A/N:

Tishe, tishe – "Hush, hush," in Russian. I figure that North probably goes through a team of deer every fifty years or so (which is an impressive time for a deer), so he's since retired Donner and company for a younger, healthier group. In keeping with some of his in-jokes from the movie, the two named here take their names from Russian composers, Sergei Rachmaninoff and Alla Pavlova.

Also, if you didn't know: both male and female reindeer (and by extension caribou, who are undomesticated) have horns, but the majority of males lose theirs in the winter. So I figure North's team is a mix of males and females, hence the names and reference to does. This is the sort of thing you learn when you move to Alaska to pursue a degree in, quote, "Northern Studies."