Black curls of nightmare sand rose from the snow and wrapped themselves around the icy bubble. Curling tightly, they pulled down, and it followed as though the permafrost and the bedrock were nothing but warm putty.

Pitch was smiling as it sank down, and he turned back to his guests.

"So now the question stands: how immortal are we? One of you has already died but- as you can tell- that didn't prove to be too much of an obstacle. Tell me, Sanderson- do you think someone made of flesh and blood can pull the same party trick?"

Sandy glared at the monster before him, never having loathed anything so much in his entire life. As soon as they worked a way out of the shackles, Pitch would be re-examining his definition of the word 'pain.'

From the ceiling above them, tendrils of nightmare sand gently cradled the- what was it? A prison? A coffin? The guardians weren't sure, but it turned their blood to ice just to see it. They gently lowered it to the floor, and for the first time they got a good look at it.

The outside was completely covered in delicate hoarfrost. The words Thanks for the memories were written in shaky cursive. Inside they could just make out the shape of a figure, encased in ice. Pitch breathed deeply. Fear radiated from the guardians as they stared at the icy... he supposed it could be called a sarcophagus. They were afraid of what they would find in there.

But underneath that, faint and still fading, was another fear. Cool and crisp and absolutely rapturous. Jack's fear. The nightmare king smiled broadly: this was going to be good.

With a flick of his wrist gags appeared over the mouths of the other guardians, and they were dragged back into the shadows, where they could see everything. Pitch formed his signature scythe from nightmare sand and, with a delighted chuckle, smashed open Jack's icy prison. It shattered with a clear tinkle, the tiny shards scattering over the floor.

A loud gasp echoed through the chamber, followed immediately by another. Jack was on his knees, choking for air, his staff abandoned and forgotten by his side. Pitch quickly took the opportunity to snatch it away, but the winter spirit didn't even notice.

The other guardians shuddered in relief when they saw he was alive, tears of gratitude streaming down their faces. Their youngest guardian was alive. Everything else could be fixed, as long as he was alive.

As his coughs subsided, Jack glanced around. How long had he been in that bubble? He'd passed out in fear once he realized there was nothing to stop the ice that was sliding down his bronchiole. And what did Pitch want? He eyed the Nightmare King suspiciously.

"Hello Jack," said the latter gently. "Care to explain what you were doing trying to kill yourself?" The guardians flinched at the blasé tone, but Jack just scowled.

"No," he muttered. "I don't care to."

"What happened Jack? Did things get worse than those attacks you told me about?" The spirit snorted as the other guardians looked at each other with wide eyes. He had told Pitch?

"Yeah, you could say that."

"What happened to your face?"

"My... Oh, that was me. Blizzard that got out of hand." Jack looked around and his eyes narrowed. "Where's my staff?" Pitch held it up, smiling widely.

"Do you want it, Jack? Because I don't think I can let you have it." Jack shakily got to his feet and glared at the man opposite him.

"If there's a point to this conversation, get to it. Otherwise, I have some equatorial water to go drown in."

The bluntness of the boy's words surprised Pitch, though he didn't let it show on his face. Frost genuinely didn't seem to care anymore, but a bit of probing proved otherwise: the boy's worst fear may have come true, but that didn't mean he didn't have a new one.

"The point is that I'm going to attack the guardians at nightfall, and I don't want you getting in my way." Jack laughed humourlessly.

"I can't get in your way, remember? I go near any of them, especially when you're nearby, and I'll be attacked without questions. Also, you're an idiot if you think you can beat them."

"Even when they don't have you around? You're what saved them last time."

"Yeah, well, last time they were weak. They didn't have believers, they had to use me. Now, though, they've got more believers than ever, so you're a fool if you think you can win."

"But I haven't told you how I'm going to attack."

"It doesn't matter how you attack, you're not going to win. Get that into your thick skull, idiot. You. Have. No. Chance." Bunny watched in amazement as, even after all they had put him through, Jack continued to defend them against Pitch.

"Do you know what a bomb is, Jack?" The boy froze, but Pitch didn't wait for a reply. "I'm sure you do, having lived through the blitz. Well, the Warren, the Tooth Palace, Santoff Clausen and Sandy's dream palace are covered with enough explosives to destroy all of London. I won't be anywhere near the places, but I'm sure your precious guardians will."

"No." It was barely a whisper, and for a second the guardians wondered if they had heard it all. Jack looked at Pitch, and they could see the anger that smouldered in his eyes. Pitch raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"No!" Jack yelled, and leapt forward. The Nightmare King was taken by surprise, and for a moment he floundered, before grabbing the boy by his jacket and throwing him to the floor with a sharp crack. The guardians winced at the sound. Pitch bent over the limp shape on the ground.

"If you care about them so badly, we could always make a deal." Jack looked up and his face contorted into an angry snarl.

"I don't make deals with you. Not anymore."

"Too bad," sighed Pitch. "Then again, I suppose with the way they've been treating you... but those mini-fairies never did anything wrong. Nor did the yetis. And the majority of the elves have always seemed nice enough, if ridiculously stupid. But if you're determined to let them go up in smoke, their lives torn from them before they even know what happened, then I-"

"What's the deal?" Pitch paused, and Jack rolled onto his knees, the picture of someone who knows when they're beaten. "What's your offer?"

"You stay here, become my personal slave and never attempt to leave. If the guardians come looking for you, you will hide until I have repelled them. In return, I will not blow up their homes, tonight or any other night."

"I'll never have to do anything that will hurt the other guardians, right?"

"Correct."

"Or the fairies or the elves?"

"If you insist. I feel I must warn you, there will be torture and a considerable number of beatings if you agree to this."

"I'll do it."

Pitch was proud of himself, he really was. He would have won no matter what the boy's answer was. If he had said no, he would have had the horror of the guardians knowing that the winter spirit was willing to let them die, and Jack's shame when he found out they knew. Since he said yes he had the guilt from the guardians over what they'd done, their pining sorrow for what the child had agreed to, and that weird achy heartbreak that moral people get when they know someone is suffering on their behalf. Also, he had himself a slave.

"Are you sure about this, Jack?"

"I said I'll do it!" Pitch stretched out his hand and the young guardian slowly shook it. "And you don't need to worry," the young guardian added. "They won't come looking for me."

Hello my lovelies. No horrible cliffhangers for you this time, just a nice little chunk bit of depression mixed in with a good amount of angst. What's going to happen next, you wonder? What will Pitch do to Jack? Will the guardians escape? Where in the world is Baby Tooth?

These are questions that can only be answered by following and favouriting this story (okay, so you only need to follow it, but favouriting it is nice too). Also, to whoever asked, no, the book Jack gave to Pitch isn't real, although I'm sure there are plenty of books out there like it.