Disclaimer: I do not own ROTG

Summary: Pitch finally removes Jack's collar.

"We stopped checking for monsters under our beds when we realized they were inside of us," Joker, The Dark Knight

Pitch was silent as they made the trek back to his lair. There were too many thoughts, fragments of memories he was trying to piece together, for him to bother with words.

He looked over though as he felt a tap on his shoulder, eyes widening at the sight of Sandy beside him. He didn't even know what he expected to see, as lost in memories as he was.

Do you want to talk about it? the golden man communicated, varying the intensity of the light he always emitted. To Pitch, who had once been gifted with the ability to understand this exclusive method of speech, he could almost hear the words being spoken. It was like something that buzzed and chimed at the edge of his conscience.

The Boogeyman shrugged, looking away from the concerned expression beside him. It was too much, too strong a reminder of days long past, people he would never see again and the destruction he caused. Pitch swallowed thickly at that last thought. He had been the cause of so much misery.

Sandy stopped in front of him, causing the dark spirit to halt as well. It may make you feel better.

"There's nothing that would make me feel better," Pitch snapped back. At the golden man's lack of reaction, he could feel the anger and confusion that was tumbling around in his head and his heart spin faster. It was drowning out all calm, rational thought. "So don't look at me like you see your friend for he is so far consumed by darkness that he will never be seen again."

The dream maker gave him a searching look, golden eyes seeming to scour his soul. But I see him now, the man commented finally.

Pitch looked away from the soft gaze, feeling the kindness directed towards him like a knife. He didn't deserve it. His voice was soft, resigned, when he spoke. "If he is here, then it would be better if he were dead."

Sandy reached out, latching onto his forearm with a strong grip belied by his small hands. Golden eyes were filled to the brim with concern and sorrow. Today was an accident.

The nightmare spirit shook his head. "And Jack had to pay for it, as he has before. Who else have I hurt? You, the rest of the Guardians, innocent children, the star herders, the Pooka, Clara." His voice stumbled over the last name as an almost sob left him. "Ma-arian."

He clamped his mouth closed, looking up to dissipate the tears gathering in his eyes. No matter who he was right now, he was not someone who cried. Sandy caught his attention once more.

Yes, you've done some terrible things, bit it was not entirely you. You can still be forgiven.

Pitch shook his head again. How could he explain something he didn't even understand himself? Over the last few centuries, the distinctive presence of the Fearlings that trapped Kozmotis, subduing him and putting him to sleep in his own mind, had started to fade. Instead of losing their influence though, they bled into the rest of his conscience, merging themselves with his actions, his identity. Looking back, he could see their poisonous influence waxed and waned, but it was no more noticeable or preventable at the time than a gradual change in personality. They worked by increments, not generally by leaps and bounds when he was not under great strain.

Once more, Pitch shook his head. "There is no difference between the Fearlings and I now, except for some surges of power they experience."

If you know when and why these surges happen, maybe you can control them.

The Boogeyman sighed. He knew why they happened. The Fearlings lived off of weakness, his own as well as others. His fear and uncertainty of the past week had made him easy prey.

The dream maker slumped at the lack of response and started walking again. They passed into the entrance to his lair silently. Sandy kept the quiet as he walked, dissolving the bonds keeping Pitch's wrist bound with a casual flick of his wrist. Then, with a moment of concentration, he sent a pulse of light the frequency of stars outwards. It was a magic of sealing, of barriers and closing. He was sealing up all the entrances to the lair.

Sandy gestured for Pitch to hold out his arms and when the man complied, the dream maker laid his hands atop. Golden manacles encircled his wrists, not noticeable except for by the glow they emitted.

These will stop you from shadow travelling, the golden man explain.

Pitch nodded, rubbing his wrists unconsciously. He didn't even feel like he was bound. Perhaps after all he had done to others, this was more than he deserved, to feel free when his freedom was being restricted. His thoughts strayed to Jack's collar again, sending a spike of pity and self-loathing through him. It was he who had marred that porcelain skin, claimed the boy for his own and reduced him to a slave. He could feel the hot surge of bile in the back of his throat but he swallowed quickly.

Sandy stopped in front of him, eyes locked onto Pitch's. This is only until you remove Jack's collar.

The Boogeyman gave a sardonic smile, all teeth and no feeling.

The golden man floated closer, expression resolute and serious. We are going to help you, Kozmotis. You can be good again.

Pitch sighed. He could never be good again. He was no longer the person that the Sandman remembered, the dashing hero of the Golden Age who was entrusted with the wrong responsibilities. He deserved none of their help or encouragements. "Would you just kill me instead?"

Sandy gave a smile but the expression didn't quite reach his eyes. They seemed to be drowning in sadness. We'll see you in two days.

As the dream maker turned to leave, Pitch grabbed hold of him, almost desperately. After a moment though, he released the man like the contact burned. It felt so foreign, touching another without the intent to hurt. He shuddered. "You never answered my question."

Golden eyes pulled down to the ground as if weighed down by the burden of the query. Finally though, he looked up, mouth set in a frown and eyebrows pinched in despair. I had hoped you were not serious.

Pitch nearly growled with frustration as a surge of emotion went through him. This was the only solution and his sole hope was evading. "Please Sandy," he nearly pleaded, for once not feeling the sting of his pride. He was past that. More than anything, he needed to impress the rightness of this action. "It would be better for everyone if I died. That way, I know I would never hurt anyone again. You know it's for the best."

But you are learning to be good again, Sandy protested, symbols quick and desperate. There was despair crushing his features and lowering the set to his shoulders.

"What if I lapse again though? Are you saying you wouldn't want to protect Jack … Clara … and other innocent people … children?" He was driving it home, hitting his former friend in all his weak spots, hoping one of them would cave. This was what was right. For the first time since he had been consumed by the darkness, he was attempting to do the right thing, now all he needed was someone to help him.

Sandy swallowed thickly, trying to blank out the expression on his face, but to Pitch's perceptive eyes, some of it still shone through. Jack would never want that, nor Clara.

Pitch sighed. "Jack is too selfless. He would never do what was best for himself. He'd be happier with me gone though." He paused a moment, drawing a breath before committing himself to the act. "Will you do it?"

I … You ask too much. I can't kill my friend.

The Boogeyman couldn't express the disappointment causing his stomach to quiver and heart to feel heavy with sorrow. "I'm asking you as my friend," he cried, voice wavering with emotion. "If you ever considered Kozmotis as your friend, do it for him."

Sandy shook his head, tears shining in his eyes. But you are Kozmotis now: noble, brave, and wanting what was best for the greater good. I would be killing my friend.

Pitch closed his eyes, tears pricking at his lids as they threatened to spill over. His heart dropped into his stomach. His last and only hope was gone. When he finally ordered his thoughts that were rapidly spinning into despair, his voice was quiet, resigned. He gave an abrupt nod. "Promise me one thing. If I ever try to hurt anyone again, you will do it. I couldn't take it. Please. Otherwise, I will find a way to do it now."

This time, Sandy nodded heavily, tears finally spilling over his cheeks. I hope it never comes to that.

"As do I." He watched as the dream maker disappeared from his lair, taking one last glance back. He couldn't imagine how Sandy saw his friend amidst the darkness and grime that had covered his soul. The person he had once been was tarnished beyond repair. It would be better if he was destroyed, no longer able to poison the world with his presence.

The Boogeyman sank into a chair, putting his head in his hands. The call of the darkness inside him was muted by grief as his memories strayed to all those he had wronged. Clara and Jack's faces played over and over in his mind, threatening to drown him with the strength of emotion. He could only imagine the pain he had caused them, but even so, he was in agony.

Bunny stood at the entrance to the teen's room, watching as Tooth pulled the cover up over his shoulders. It was such a tender gesture, one that was performed by mothers all over the world. However, she stopped the ritual short, not finishing with a kiss on the forehead. The image of family dissipated.

The fairy closed the door behind her, shaking her head sadly at his questioning gaze. She only started talking when they were several paces down the hall. "I can't stand seeing him like this."

The Pooka resisted the urge to look back over his shoulder as if to check up on the winter spirit. He understood the sentiment well. It was the teen's eyes, devoid of the sparkle they had been getting back. It left him looking drained, an empty shell of his former self which was willing to be filled by others. He sighed heavily, shaking the thoughts from his head. There was no use dwelling on sadness.

His voice was soft as he replied. "He's strong though. It won't be long until he's back to normal."

"I'm worried though," she replied, violet eyes reinforcing her words as well as her frantic fluttering. Before she could elaborate, they arrived in the Globe room where North was directing the Christmas preparations. It was only a few weeks until the day, so his frantic pace was ceaseless.

"How is he?" the Russian boomed, catching sight of them from across the room.

"Still the same," Tooth answered, a little sigh accompanying her words. "We put him to bed. Hopefully some sleep will help him sort out his memories."

North frowned, normally jolly eyes dimmed by the expression. "It vas all going so well," he muttered.

Bunny nodded, feeling the despair coming off his comrades like an almost physical blow which was multiplied by that emotion inside of him.

Their silent musings were cut off by Sandy flying up beside them, looking just as grim as they all felt.

"How'd it go, mate?" the Pooka asked, latching onto the distraction from his spiralling thoughts.

Sandy set his mouth grimly, holding his own sorrow in his eyes. Well for the most part.

"Then vhy are you so sad, old friend?" North asked, blue eyes keenly searching the oldest Guardian.

The golden man shook his head, pressing his lips together as if to hold something back. In an uncharacteristic gesture of frustration for the normally contained spirit, he ran a hand over his spiky hair. He has fallen back onto his Kozmotis personality, but he does not see it. Sandy gave a silent sigh.

They lapsed into silence, murmuring only a few ideas of what to do for Jack before going their separate ways. It had been a long day.

"Good morning, mates," Bunny called, walking into the kitchen of the Pole. "Keep forgetting it's Chrissie till I come into the Pole." Sandy, North and Jack were already there, eating a quiet breakfast. The Russian grumbled back an affirmative while Sandy nodded his head with a slight smile. It was Jack's response which caused a flicker of hope to ignite in the Pooka's chest. The teen's eyes flicked up, a slight smile on his face at the blatant display of Aussie-isms. They always seemed to amuse him.

Bunny smiled back. It seems that today would be filled with slang, if only for the teen's happiness. "So, ya think Iris will mind if ya chuck a sickie today?" he asked, directing his question to Jack.

The boy's eyes widened, face freezing for a moment in surprise. Then, he turned his gaze shyly downwards with his smile growing ever so slightly. "I … I don't really have much to do today anyways."

Although his voice was somewhat shaky, the Pooka could take heart in the fact that Jack was stringing together a coherent answer. It was more than they could get out of him before putting him to bed the night before.

"Good," called out another voice and Tooth swept into the kitchen with a slew of mini fairies behind her. It seemed that she was employing her own tactics to cheer up their resident winter spirit. "Cause my girls were just dying to see you and I have a message to pass along from Jamie."

The boy sat straighter, smile curling even more onto his lips like a contented cat settling down in its rightful place. Fairies swirled around him, chirping in his ear and playing with his hoodie. His expression was overwhelmed but overjoyed like he had not seen them in too long.

Bunny exchanged a glance with Tooth, noting the triumph in her eyes and the sly tilt to her expression. She knew that she had been victorious. As she sat down, he leaned towards her, murmuring, "Good thinking, Sheila."

The Pooka could tell they were all subtly watching the progression before them. Even though Jack was halted from eating his breakfast, the rapid shift made his heart soar. He could breathe easier seeing that the gloom of the previous day could still be overcome.

Although shy, the boy was happily chatting with the fairies, listening for the most part but with a smile on his face. It took almost ten minutes for them to settle down and turn to Tooth for what she had to say.

Blue eyes swung towards the Guardian of Memories, no longer quite so haunted by fear. There was a sparkle to them that had seemed entirely quenched the day before. "You said something about Jamie," Jack mentioned quietly. Even though his voice was slightly subdued, it was heartening that he spoke without prompting.

Tooth gave a bright smile. "He told me when we were leaving yesterday that he wanted me to convey a message to you." He nodded her forwards. "First, he wanted to tell you that your powers are sick." She frowned as she said the last word, brows drawn together as she looked to the boy for clarification. "He said you'd know what that meant."

Jack smiled, then gave a breathy laugh. His face was bright with amusement as he nodded. "I get it."

Tooth returned the gesture. "When I didn't, he said that maybe you could put us in the loop. He also seemed quite horrified that we may not know what something called a tablet is."

The teen chuckled again, looking quickly around at all of their confused expressions. "I take it none of you understand what either of those things mean." At all of their negative responses, he looked down, tracing the lines of his staff as he explained. "Kids sometimes mean sick not as in ill, but with the meaning cool. As for a tablet, it's a piece of rectangular technology which is touch screen and functions almost like a computer."

The Pooka furrowed his brows. The last he had paid attention to computers, they had been huge, clunky things that could perform very few functions except playing games and sometimes connecting to things called servers. "What's a touch screen?" he questioned.

Jack's eyebrows shot up with surprise. "You guys are really out of date," he commented softly.

Bunny could only nod back, taking in the rest of the Guardians' perplexed expressions. Only North seemed to have an iota of understanding.

As they lapsed into a companionable silence, resuming their breakfast, Bunny noted out of the corner of his eyes that Jack did not retain his confident posture. He was backsliding slightly, slumping his shoulders. His eyes lost a little of their twinkle as he stared absently at the table, gaze not quite focused on the present. At one point, he even skimmed the tips of his fingers over his collar, then jerked his hand away quickly.

It was the same for the rest of the day, Jack being animated and happy when kept busy. However, intermittently, his expression would drop, losing the semblance of contentment. Bunny watched him carefully, noting with despair whenever the teen would slide back into despair, into fear. There was little he could do to ease it except keep the boy as occupied as possible. Sometimes you had to keep moving or your thoughts would sneak up on you.

Waking the next morning, the teen was more fidgety than usual. His speech was choppier and posture venturing towards submissive. It seemed that the event that was to take place that day, and the company that would bring was weighing down his thoughts and his head. Bunny's heart squeezed with sympathy for the pain and uncertainty this must be causing.

This time, the Sandman brought him through a portal, one of the swirling blue ones of North's invention. Grudgingly, he had to admit that this method of transport was better than his own, more pleasant on the traveller at the very least. He could feel it as the floor beneath his feet changed into the hard surface of the Pole. This was a place he had not thought to see again for a long time. It seemed wrong to be invited here after the circumstances of his last visit.

"Pitch," North greeted, cutting off the Boogeyman's internal monologue.

The dark spirit nodded back, feeling the golden manacles dissolve off his wrist. He followed as North began to lead him through the Pole, Sandy behind. Unlike the previous times he had been here, this time he got to marvel at the beauty of the building, apparent in the arching ceilings, painted frescoes and bustling hallways. From the noises of activity and yetis, it seemed they were passing by the hive of production. His feet stumbled to a halt as he got a view of the assembly area. It was resplendent with colours, sound and motion so that it overloaded the senses.

"Coming?" the Russian asked, tone a touch sharp.

Pitch glanced upwards, seeing the rest of the Guardians in the background. He shrugged his shoulders, inclining his head towards the scene before him. "It's rather overwhelming."

North pursed his lips, seeming unsure what to do with that statement. However, the Boogeyman's eyes barely skimmed the jolly man, instead gravitating as they always did towards the winter spirit. Although those sky blue eyes were slightly down, there was a slight smile lifting the corners of Jack's lips. Then, the boy glanced up, eyes laughing as they flickered between Pitch and the bustling scene of production. It seemed that at least Jack agreed.

"Come on," North instructed and Pitch had to restrain the urge to roll his eyes. Now, the Russian could see what it felt like to have his own home invaded by his enemy.

He glanced around at the room they stopped at, brows dipping quickly with surprise at the overall medical nature to it. It was not like he was about to perform surgery.

Sandy shrugged, catching the confusion. We didn't know where else to do it.

"Okay," North declared, then trailed off, looking to the others as if for support. Finally, and seemingly reluctantly, he switched his glance to Pitch. "Vhat do you need?"

The man shrugged. "Nothing except Jack really." He could feel the Big Four, except Sandy, shift at the comment, casting glances between him and the winter spirit. The tension in the air between them all was palpable. Pitch could feel his muscles tightening in anticipation for a fight, flickering back to the fact that these were his enemies. He should not be standing here before them without an action plan in mind.

He had to forcibly shake the thought from his head. He was avoiding the topic at hand. With a trepidation he could not explain, his gaze flickered to the winter spirit and he waited with a patience he didn't know he possessed until the boy looked up. That gaze, the watchful, sometimes fearful, sometimes mischievous but always perceptive blue eyes had haunted his last few days. Now that they were face to face, the apologies that had been built up on his tongue refused to be conveyed. "I …."

Jack nodded all the same, seeming to read the thoughts in a quick glance at his former master's face.

Pitch cleared his throat awkwardly, remembering the presence of the others. "I'd ask you all not to hover but I know you will anyways so just," he gestured vaguely around him, "try not to get in my way."

Tooth stepped back, sending him a meaningful look that promised she would make good on her threat from the other day if he tried anything. Bunny did the same, followed by North. That left Sandy flickering his gaze between the remaining two. The golden man signed quickly. Jack, remember our conversation about blue underwear with happy faces.

Pitch turned quickly, startled by the clear, chiming sound of startled laughter. It was a noise he had not heard for the teen in a long time.

Kozmotis, Sandy continued, thank you.

The Boogeyman shook his head. He deserved no thanks for this. Reaching one hand quickly into a hidden pocket of his robes, he withdrew the vial he had concocted over the past couple days, one that the dream maker could use in case of emergency. He thrust a hand towards the golden man, feeling the others tense around him. As if he would try anything in such an enclosed space with all of them wary. He shook his head as Sandy took it with trepidation.

"Thank you," Pitch returned. He ignored the golden eyes staring at him with sadness as Sandy too, stepped back. Then, it was just him and Jack alone in the middle of the circle of Guardians.

"Are you ready?" the dark spirit asked.

Jack just nodded, Adams apple bobbing against the hard metal of his collar. Although he appeared outwardly relatively calm, Pitch could feel the fear roiling beneath the surface of the teen's façade. For some reason, it made his own stomach roil with disgust.

"Take a seat," the Boogeyman instructed, nodding his head towards the bed beside them.

The boy complied easily. He glanced up at his former master, eyes searching for several moments. However, at the continued returned gaze, Jack lowered his eyes as he had been forcibly taught. His staff was shaking slightly, amplifying the nervous motion of his hands.

As Pitch took a step forwards, he could feel the teen's fear heighten, wringing his own nerves. "Although I appreciate your fear, I must tell you that now, it's not necessary."

Jack glanced up, then nodded slowly. However, after several moments, his gaze locked on golden eyes and he shrugged helplessly. Apparently even the teen himself had to admit that that was a hopeless cause. The fear that Pitch had caused was too firmly ingrained within him to be brushed aside. For once, that thought almost made the Boogeyman sick.

Pitch raised his hands to reach out for the boy, but Jack flinched unconsciously. He cursed internally, running through an inadequate list of comforting phrases he could use. They all seemed hollow though. 'I'm not going to hurt you … this time.' 'It's okay.' Nothing would help. Instead, he gathered the dream sand he had pinched off Sandy's manacles and blew it quickly over the teen. As he moved to catch the boy, he felt the Guardians stiffen around him.

Golden eyes looked upwards towards the accusing glares. "He was terrified," he explained harshly, words tasting bitter in his mouth. "It's easier for everyone this way."

"Fine," North mumbled gruffly. "Just do it."

Since putting the collar on the boy, Pitch had had little to do with it. Now, he really let himself consider the device. If he did say so himself, the lock was a particularly ingenuous invention. Not only was it a puzzle lock, but it was also coded to respond only to Nightmare sand. So, even if something like ice or dream sand were to get past the fretwork, they would be denied access to the final latch.

The Boogeyman stepped forwards, placing his hands against the collar that had long held the winter spirit captive. He could feel the heavy weight of the Guardians around him. Without looking up, he directed his words to them. "If you have something to say, may as well say it while I am working and Jack is unconscious."

There was the shifting of weight as if they were surprised. However, Bunny filled the oppressive silence. "What is there to say to ya that has not already been said?"

As he worked, the words spilled out without thought. "How about: we are withdrawing all efforts to help you in light of what you did the other day. Or maybe: we knew we should never have listened to Jack in the first place."

It was Tooth who answered. "Jack was right in the first place. You are not exactly who we thought you were."

He was glad she was off to his side so he would not have to deal with the sympathy he knew would be in her violet eyes. "And who is that?"

"Now, someone who is just as confused as he was," she replied.

Pitch snorted at that statement. "Confused, violent, evil. I guess those words are interchangeable." There was a dark, heavy sarcasm lacing his words. "And I guess you are just okay with the fact that I was the one who made him confused in the first place." He gazed down at the teen under discussion, feeling a sudden, tender instinct to brush a hand through his hair. Quickly, he shrugged it off, along with the surge of memories of doing the same for his daughter so many years ago.

"If you're looking for condemnation, you're goin' t' have to look elsewhere," Bunny put in bluntly. His green eyes were flinty. "We know yer faults just as well as you do. So we ain't going to go through it again. You've done terrible things but somehow Jack is willing to look at the side of you that feels bad for it. It's you who has to decide which part of yourself ya want and if you can forgive yourself."

Pitch swallowed thickly past the sudden surge of emotion. This was the last person he had expected to be okay with his presence here, to miss an opportunity to scream and rage. Bunny should be jumping on the chance, should be condemning the Boogeyman for the senseless slaughter of the Pooka people.

"Forgiveness," he muttered, letting out a choked laugh. "How can you of all people say that word to me with a straight face?"

When there was silence for several moments, he glanced up, then quickly back down. The Pooka's face was expressing clearly his inner battle and it seemed something that Pitch should not bear witness to.

Finally, Bunny spoke. "I say it because I agree with Jack. Kozmotis has been trapped for so long, and we cannot blame him for the actions of the Fearlings."

"Kozmotis is gone," Pitch murmured.

"Maybe you have just changed," the Pooka countered.

With that, they fell silent until there was a loud click and the collar snapped open. The Boogeyman carefully pulled it off, looking down at the infernal device for several moments. A wave of bile rose in the back of his throat and he dropped it to the ground where it fell with a resounding clang.

Jack stirred in the bed, fluttering his eyelids weakly.

"And that's my cue to leave," Pitch declared, moving to spin away from the rapidly waking teen.

Sandy latched onto his arm, golden eyes intense and questioning. It seemed clear he would not relent without a reason for the sudden exit.

The Boogeyman sighed dramatically. However, it was more bluster than true frustration. The only emotion he felt was a deep sadness consuming his heart. "I am the one who caused his despair, I do not deserve to bear witness to his delight," he murmured. Then, "Do not forget your promise Sandman." With that, he shadow travelled away, needing to be anywhere but there.

Jack fluttered his eyes open, feeling the drowsy effects of dream sand. It weighed pleasantly on his eyes, dreams tickling at his mind as if wanting to pull him back into slumber. He blinked again though, hearing a voice. Once more, he tried to open his eyes, seeing only smudges of colour. Finally, with one last effort, he broke free of the clinging sleep in time to hear a familiar voice.

"I am the one who caused his despair, I do not deserve to bear witness to his delight." Then, after a pause, "Do not forget your promise Sandman." It was Pitch, getting out a parting comment before disappearing into the realm of shadows.

Before he could really process the thought, he had already spoken it out loud. "What promise?" he questioned sleepily. He sat up, focusing on the Guardians around him.

However, as he moved, he froze. His brain finally connected the reason behind Pitch's presence. It was gone, the ever noticeable weight of the collar that could be felt with every movement. His fingers reached up ever so slowly to his neck, breath stilling as they made their journey. It came as such a shock that he jumped slightly when his fingers brushed against smooth skin instead of hard metal.

A laugh bubbled up between his lips, coming out choked and strangled, even teary. Then, hearing it echo off the walls, he laughed again, clearer. There was a bubbling of happiness lifting his heart so that it felt like the wind had taken it for a flight. He felt light, unrestrained. For the first time in a long time, he truly felt free.

Remembering the Guardians, he looked towards them with wide eyes. Flickering between all of them, he noticed the same expression. They were all smiling, the gesture soft and amused.

It was Tooth who broke the moment of silence and stillness. She reached behind her, grabbing a towel from a nearby shelf and then she moved to wet it in the sink behind her. Jack watched with confusion as she approached, towel extended towards him. "You've got a little …" she trailed off, gesturing to his neck, "… dirt."

He grabbed it gratefully from her. He could imagine all that had been lingering under that piece of metal. Dirt, dried blood, raw skin rubbed by the chaffing collar. Hesitantly, he used the cloth to start to rub away the remnants left by the mark of ownership. It was like he was slowly cleaning off the stain of slavery and degradation. He was wiping away the influence of submission on his life.

Luckily, North switched the attention off of him. "Jack had good question. Vhat did Pitch mean by something you promised?" the man asked Sandy.

"And what did he give you, mate?" Bunny added.

Sandy looked to all of them, then away, expression troubled. Pitch asked me to do something when I sealed him in his lair. He sighed as they looked at him expectantly. He asked me to kill him.

Jack gasped, although the shock was chased away by momentary happiness that he could speak and make noise without the weight of the collar. He shook off the distraction, noting that the others had echoed his sound of surprise.

The dream maker looked up, eyes showing their years. He shook his head as if that would get rid of the emotion. At first he told me to kill him because it would be kinder to everyone since this way he couldn't hurt anyone. He trailed off, swallowing thickly as he avoided their stares. When I said no, he made me promise that if he went to hurt anyone again, I would kill him before I let him do that. Otherwise, he would find a way to do it now. He took a shaky breath.

"Sandy," Tooth exclaimed, drawing all of their gazes. "You should have told us. You shouldn't have to deal with that alone."

The golden man shrugged, although he gave her a kind smile. Thank you. I just thought we had more important things to be concerned with. Here, his eyes flickered over to Jack.

The teen turned his gaze downwards under the sudden attention. It was still strange, being a priority to others, having comfort and occasionally giving it. Now was one of the times he needed to do the latter. "We'll help him get better so it won't come to that," he assured. For a moment, he saw a past long gone, and the echo of words of comfort from who he was before.

"Ve can talk about this more later. I say now that this is not just your responsibility, old friend," North declared, directing his words to Sandy. Then, he switched his gaze to Jack. "Now though, we celebrate. Vhat do you want to do?"

"Ice cream?" the teen half questioned, a smile lighting up his features.

The Russian let out a booming laugh, followed by a wave of smiles from the others. Then, they were trekking to the kitchen for the treat.

As he looked back at the towel that had wiped away all evidence of the collar from his neck, Jack couldn't help but smile. The stain was finally off of him. He smiled back at the Guardians. This felt right. Finally, after so long of the uncertainty and residual feelings of servitude and confinement, he could breathe freely. It was like he was finally coming home.

It was an accident, them being in the same place at the same time. As the boy passed through, Pitch half retreated to the shadows, prepared to disappear. However, the laughter that was ringing off the buildings drew his attention. Jack was beaming as the wind tossed him around, dancing with his own snow.

Suddenly, the teen stopped his merriment, feet touching down on the ground. He was still for only a moment until he spun towards the Boogeyman. "I know you're there, Pitch," he called.

With only a moment's hesitation, the dark spirit stepped out of the shadows, facing the teen alone for the first time since their last disastrous encounter. This time though, he felt no urge to hurt the boy. Instead, he just tried not to stare at him, noting how different he appeared without the black band of the collar to mar his appearance.

"I never got a chance to say thank you," Jack said. "So … thank you."

Pitch shook his head. "Don't thank me for removing what I did to you in the first place." It was only right that he did so.

"I … um," the teen started, then trailed off. The hesitation drew the man's attention. It did not seem to be fear, that level in the boy was surprisingly low, although not completely gone.

Jack reached into the pocket of his hoodie, drawing out some colourful package. The boy waved it awkwardly in his direction, expression sheepish. "I know you don't like Christmas, but … here." He threw the object towards Pitch, who reflexively caught it. "Merry Christmas." With that, the teen took off, leaving a trail of snow behind.

Pitch stared after him in stunned confusion. Christmas? Then, he looked down at the package, realizing with delayed embarrassment that he had not recognized it as a gift. Perhaps that was because the Nightmare King and Christmas presents were not two things which ever coexisted.

However, he couldn't stop himself from tentatively opening up the paper, peeling it away to reveal a book. He chuckled softly to himself. What else would Jack have gotten him? Looking closer, his jaw dropped. It was a particularly rare volume of poems by Lord Byron. A tiny smile snaked its way onto his face. The teen had remembered.

As he tenderly opened the book, he got a further shock at the hand-written note tucked between the first pages. It was in Jack's curly script.

I don't expect to see you in person before you receive this so … thank you. It may not seem it to you, but you agreeing to go through with taking off your collar is proof that you have changed. You are not the monster you think you are, Pitch. Most importantly, stop feeling responsible for things you didn't have control over. The only thing that will bring you is sadness and pain. If you cannot live for yourself yet, then live for others until you see why your life is worth living. We can help you find who you want to be now, just as I have found who I want to be. Just know that I believe in you so you have one believer already. Do not despair that you will not be worthy of that belief because you already are. I look forward to discussing books with you once again.

Jack

Pitch smiled softly. There was so much Jack in those words that it was incredible. Although he may not believe all of it yet, maybe, just maybe, he could live up to this image of who he could be.

AN: I hope you enjoyed the scene of the collar finally being taken off. Thank you all for being so patient for that to finally occur. In all honesty, I have had this scene planned out for a long time and have been building towards it for a while. In my mind, it was the only way for the collar to come off. Please review, favourite, follow, etc. Credits for the title of this chapter go to acrisafu who suggested it at the beginning as a title for the story.