Hello! I'M BACK! I know I said I'd be updating every chapter before I posted something again but I couldn't stay away for so long, and this idea had been bothering me so much that I couldn't concentrate on anything else. Buuuut I've updated chapters 3, 4 and 5 so go take a look on them when you have the chance. They're a lot better now than they were before. And THANK YOU so much for your lovely support. I really didn't expect it. You guys mean a lot to me, and wow I'm just so happy. Thank you for your reviews, for your support and ideas and... well thanks for everything! You guys are AMAZING!
Aaaaaand before you go into the chapter, a little warning. This is a special chapter that was meant to be the last one on this story but oh well, I'm such a weirdo that loves different timelines and I apologize for it. So I've made some modifications here and there and if you don't understand it, it's okay. Officially, from now on, this story has 3 different timelines that will be explained better soon.
The timelines are simple:
Guardians (Jack is a Guardian & Pitch's ward - main timeline)
Lightbringer (Jack didn't join the Guardians due his kidnapping & imprisonment on 1876)
Welcome Home (this one will be explained later because of reasons~)
If you guys don't like the idea please let me know and I'll work on something better! For now I hope you forgive me ;v; I'll keep posting new chapters & updating old ones at the same time so I'll see you soon! New ideas, requests and constructive criticisms are always welcome!
Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians.
50. Nothing (2012)
Welcome Home
It was strangely curious how life could take different turns along the way, and he hadn't even tried to understand how they had ended up there, in such a gruesome situation on their hands. The last few days were nothing but a blur of messy images and feelings, a reunion of absurd events that he still wondered if they had really happened because truth to be told, who in their right mind would ask Jack Frost for any help? Jack Frost helped no one. He was a mistake, a good for nothing troublemaker that could do nothing right. But they did seek him, they wanted his help. The Big Four, the spirits he once cherised and then despised so much for their lack of attention, for their blind ignorance towards the winter child, wanted him to join them. They had kidnapped him and told him he had been chosen to be a Guardian. He had helped Tooth to collect teeth and even helped Bunny to prepare Easter. They had fought Pitch Black together, and they had succeeded.
So why did victory feel so bitter?
Maybe it was those few years of a twisted, yet wonderful friendship they had shared before everything crumbled at their feet, because no matter what Pitch had done Jack would never forget they had been good friends that cared for each other once, they had been some kind of family for a little while and good gods how much he missed it. Maybe it was the panic written over every line of the Boogeyman's expression, because the master of fear himself was scared. Maybe it was because Jack had seen his own reflection on those golden eyes, because he had felt that powerful fear gripping at his heart over and over again for the last three hundred years. The fear of being forgotten, abandoned and completely alone. The desperation of being left behind, brushed off as unimportant, unnecessary. A nuisance that should've never existed. And even if Pitch Black was the enemy now, even if his mad obssession for revenge had cost him so much, Jack could understand his reasons. He knew how much it hurt not to be believed in, how it burned their very souls. What Bunnymund had felt on Easter was nothing but a drop in the ocean, a glimpse of the real agony that Jack desired no one to ever feel.
They wanted to be seen. They wanted to be more than a long forgotten dream, more than a cold breeze of winter. And he also knew that three hundred years had been nothing in comparison of thousands years of a lonely, sad existence filled with nothing but darkness and fear and corrupted power.
Yes, Pitch Black was their enemy but had they even tried to understand him?
For the way the Guardians were smiling at the Boogeyman's cruel demise, it was obvious they hadn't even thought about it.
His body moved before his mind could really comprehend the urgency of the situation, the wave of compassion and nearness that washed over him as an avalanche forcing him to run. Pitch's helpless screams and the violent neighs of his Nightmares rushed the winter child into action because I have to help him I have to stop it! and he didn't even think about what he was doing, why he was doing that. He didn't think about Jamie or the Guardians. He didn't think about the bright and happy future he was simply throwing away because if he did, he'd hesitate and change his mind. Pitch hadn't enough time for hesitation, for his childish cowardice. The Guardians' yells never reached his ears as he moved faster, completely focused on the dark spirit being dragged away by his own creations. The moment Pitch gripped at the rotten wood of the bed over the dark entrance, screeching and thrasing against his captors like a damned Banshee, the Wind gave Jack a last push before it was too late. Cold fingers grabbed a grey pulse, golden and blue eyes meeting for a long, painful second.
Pitch Black wasn't simply scared.
He was terrified, hurt, confused. He was lost and broken, much like Jack Frost had once been in a long time ago.
Another scream rose from the man's lips as the creatures gave his body a new tug, pulling him deeper and deeper into the hole, and Jack felt a cruel stab right on his heart. The dark creatures weren't just trying to take Pitch away. They were trying to tear him apart and he couldn't stop it. The winter child tightened his grip but he knew it was of no use. He wasn't stronger than a well-fed bunch of Nightmares, yet he wouldn't give up now. The mere thought of being locked away in the dark with no one else but those disgusting, vengeful things was more than enough to make him stand firm on his suicidal plan. No one deserved such punishment, no one deserved to be hurt over and over again only because they wished to exist. Not even the Nightmare King himself, not even after what he did.
As Pitch screamed again, Jack did the only thing that he could've done in that moment.
He allowed the Nightmares to drag him down the hole, and darkness surrounded him completely.
He never knew how long it took them to stop falling, and maybe they were falling just too slow because last time he had been there, Pitch's lair wasn't so distant from the surface like now. There were noises all around him, above his head and coming from the shadows by his sides. His grip on Pitch's pulse never faltered, the constant warmth of the Boogeyman against his frozen skin sending calming waves through his body. And then, just as suddenly as they had been dragged down, they fell on the harsh ground. The darkness in there was simply overwhelming, ten times worse than the last time, and it seemed to cover every inch of wall and floor, to glue on the corners and little spaces like a sickening goo. Not even the Globe of Belief was shining anymore, its dim lights longing for only a second before going out at once. By his side, Pitch wasn't moving at all and for a moment Jack feared he had done something wrong, he had been too late... But the Boogeyman coughed and sputtered, his breath hoarse and filled with pain but he was breathing nonetheless. At least he was alive.
The winter child finally found enough strength to move, fingers curling over his staff. A blue, cold light emanating from his conduit filled a small part of the room as he pushed himself over his knees, pain numbing his senses almost completely. There wasn't an inch of his body that didn't hurt, yet his mind was miles away from that, more focused on what had brought him there and when they'd attack again. The creatures were nowhere to be seen, yet he knew it'd be just a matter of time until they came back or he finally registered how insane he was. Unfortunately he had no time to start thinking about what he had done, for Pitch choked loudly, gurgling and sputtering more, gaining his complete attention in a matter of instants. Jack just approached quickly, barely registering the countless wounds and bites and bruises over the Boogeyman's body but he didn't fail to notice the blood pooling around him and escaping his mouth, dark and sticky and just too cold.
Panic and fear numbed Jack's mind once more before he could even realize it. Someone was dying in front of him, and it didn't matter if the person was his 'enemy' or his closest friend. Someone was just dying in front of his eyes and it was his fault. He had helped the Guardians. He had pushed Pitch away in his weakest moment instead of listening. He could've tried to change the man's mind again, like he had tried so many years ago. He could've tried to talk to him. There were countless things he could've done, and now he was stuck down there with wild, unleashed Nightmares and a dying, fallen King.
And just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, a neigh echoed too close to them, loud and vicious. Ten pair of golden eyes popped out of the darkness, full of malice and hunger and a mad desire to hunt, chase, kill. Without Pitch's influence over them, they were no more than darkness and horror mixed and barely contained in a sandy body, ready to feed on that fear no matter what, ready to destroy anything standing on their way. The leader moved first, whinning as it tapped its feet against the floor violently, but when it got too close Jack's body reacted to the danger before his mind could follow. He felt himself standing up quickly and slamming the end of his staff on the floor with all his might. He felt the powerful waves of energy running through his veins, just like when Sandman had been killed, as violent and dangerous as the dark creatures threatening him, draining his strength and destroying every Nightmare on the way until there was nothing but the thick, pure darkness around him, a familiar darkness that seemed to sing to him, peacefully lulling him into its arms.
Without any resistance, Jack allowed himself to be consumed by the dark again.
The first thing he noticed when he finally woke up was the throbbing pain on his head, pulsing against his temple over and over again until he was completely awake and aware of it, his mind dizzy and foggy. It was darker than before, and for a second he wondered if Pitch's lair had ever been so dark. He couldn't remember, yet he knew something was wrong because darkness in there had never felt so dangerous, so gruesome. Why was he in there again? They had fought, they were enemies... Something was missing, and he couldn't remember what. For how long had he been unconscious? It couldn't be for so long because he was still feeling the effects of such a powerful outburst. Oh yes, the Nightmares had tried to attack him and he had sent them away. Well at least he was safe for now. No, it wasn't quite right. He hadn't fall into that place alone... His eyes moved to the side, barely recognizing Pitch's decrepit form through the darkness.
Pitch. The Guardians, Sandman, Easter, the Nightmares... And then the memories of his downfall invaded his mind as an avalanche, not asking for permission to fill him with images and feelings and pain. Pure, raw pain that twisted and broke him from the inside, eating his limbs and his skin. There wasn't an inch of his body that wasn't aching or burning and even his voice seemed to abandon him, for it didn't matter how much he tried to scream he could simply wheeze and whimper. Instincts worked better than any other thing inside him, and before he could notice his fingers brushed the ground by his side, gripping the staff with little strength left in his hand. The moment frost covered the ancient wood the pain subdued slowly until it was no more than a slight, angry throbbing in his chest yet he didn't move. For a long time he didn't care to count Jack stood still, waiting. What was he waiting for? He didn't exactly know but something told him to wait. His heavy, hoarse breathing finally calmed down. His heart decided to follow.
Silence.
He didn't like that silence. It was wrong, unwelcoming. It was that kind of silence that made him want to flee, to hide because there was something dangerous behind it. Unfortunately he had nowhere to hide, not in there. Not in their kingdom. The Nightmares were still to show up, and maybe they were just waiting for the perfect moment to strike again, to end his miserable life at once because he had been stupid enough to fall in there and become an easy prey. Could a spirit die again? Pitch had said something about it once... Well he surely didn't want to remember in that very moment. He moved to lay on his side, embracing the staff against his chest as much as possible as a scared child would do with a favorite blanket. He was scared of many things now, and all he had to keep him calm was his staff. He needed to focus and find a way out of that place, to find a way to return to the Guardians and Jamie and...
They would never accept him back after what he had done.
He tried to save Pitch Black, the same spirit how tried to destroy the world with his Nightmares and fear. He had chosen the enemy over his future, the possibility of a new family...
You'll never have a family. Phaethon's voice echoed too loud in his mind that for a second he almost believed the spirit of misfortune was there by his side, whispering on his ear the same words he wished never to listen again in his life. He wanted to deny that with every fiber of his body, yet deep inside he knew he shouldn't because that was the truth. He didn't deserve to have a family. If the Boogeyman didn't want him before, who would ever want? Surely it wouldn't be a group of weird guys who ignored him for three hundred years. It wouldn't be the same Guardians that doubted him and sent him away on Easter. And even if his childish mind begged to believe they'd come to help him and take him back to the North Pole, Jack knew better than that. Those three days were no more than a dream - a wonderful, incredible dream that he had been force to wake up and face reality too soon.
They won't come to save you.
No one mourns the wicked.
And he swallowed back the tears and sobs that threatened to escape him the moment a soft moan echoed around, shattering the silence in a million pieces as if it had never existed at all. Pitch... Pitch was alive! Relief washed over him in a second and he pushed himself closer to the dark spirit, trying not to pay attention to all those wounds covering Pitch's body. In that moment all that really mattered was the fact the Boogeyman was alive and breathing and well, Jack wasn't alone in the dark anymore. Another moan brought his mind back into the harsh reality and he finally forced himself to look at Pitch. There was blood everywhere, clinging at the Nightmare King's clothes as the shadows once did. His body was a mess of bites and bruises, and his right leg had been twisted and broken in at least three different points. Jack was almost sure it would never heal completely, no matter how strong Pitch could be.
And Pitch Black was anything but strong now. He was no more than a shadow of the King he used to be, and it was all Jack's fault. He had fought Pitch instead of listening. He had ran away when he should've stayed and now they were stuck down there forever, if they were lucky enough to survive.
As if things in his life couldn't get any worse.
It took him only a few days to notice how darker, how distorted that place had become through the years. The darkness in there wasn't just the lack of light. It was something real and dangerous lurking in every corner, ready to swallow him whole at any moment if he got too close. The Nightmares had grown into terrifying creatures, and the Fearlings were more than simple little creatures running wild and spreading fear. They were much more, and Jack finally understood how Pitch had never escaped their influence over his soul and heart. It was... impossible, painful even. The Fearlings were cruel, merciless, monstrous like big pieces of the purest darkness and deepest fears combined into something beyond imagination, wicked creatures that stole his breath and feeded on his sanity slowly. The whole place was drowning in madness and corruption, and it was a surprise to find out he was still sane enough to keep fighting for a way out. It'd be so easy to just give up and surrender, to let himself be taken to that dark world... To be like Pitch Black.
And the facility of becoming something worse than Jokul Frosti scared him to death because sometimes he wanted to.
Sometimes he wanted it much more than he wanted freedom and it was absolutely terrifying.
"Hush child... it's okay."
Oh right. He was hyperventilating again, and he hadn't even noticed it until now. Warm fingers brushed over his hair before moving to massage his temples gently, and that mere touch had been enough to push the horror out of his mind, clearing his senses in no more than a second. Why it always worked on him was something Jack couldn't explain, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to understand it himself. All that mattered was how much he loved and needed that sweet, wonderful kind of comfort that only Pitch could offer him. And maybe, just maybe that was the only thing that was preventing him to go insane at once, because there was no other explanation for that, and he couldn't be more grateful even if he knew he didn't deserve such a gentle treatment. It was his fault they were locked up in that place and Jack couldn't simply understand why Pitch was being so... nice to him. He couldn't understand why the Boogeyman hadn't killed him yet.
Well it seemed Jack couldn't understand a lot of things in that ruined, twisted wonderland.
"I need you to do something, Jack." Pitch was talking again, and the winter child once more forced himself to focus on whatever the dark spirit was saying, the warm touch now spreading down his arm being more than enough to keep him wary. "We might... have a way to get out of here. I cannot promise but..."
A way out. Pitch had finally found a way out of that hell.
That was all he needed to hear in that moment.
"Listen to me."
Jack blinked softly, confusion washing over his hastiness as a bucket of cold water. When had he exactly stand up, and why hadn't he noticed it? The answer was simple and plain, even if he wanted to deny that. He was just getting worse, and fast. Too fast. Fear bubbled inside his chest, its poisonous roots invading his heart and settling in there before he had enough time to ignore them. It shouldn't be like that. Everything was just so wrong, so painful and he needed to get away soon. He was wasting away slowly, and he didn't want to die in that place. And then a sudden pain spread through his face, burning and shoving away every inch of panic and horror trying to creep up his soul. The harsh slap resonated down his entire body, the shock forcing him to remember how to breath again. It felt exactly like waking up from a terrible nightmares, and well it was always a wonder to see how stronger Pitch was getting day after day.
"Focus, child. I can't lose you now."
"I-I'm sorry..." The winter spirit muttered, cupping the hurt cheek as gently as he could. The cold against his heated skin served better than any caring touch, and it took him only a moment to pull himself together at once. They had a chance now and he wouldn't lose it, no matter how scared he really was. He owed that and much more to Pitch after everything he had done. For a long minute all he did was stare at the still fragilized Boogeyman, wondering when his eyes had lost their golden touch. Maybe after their fall... Not that it was really important. "What do I need to do?"
"That's my boy." Pitch smiled, for the first time in a long time, and Jack simply relaxed, sitting back on the bed as quickly as he had gotten up before. "There's something hidden in the library, a black box that's very important and very fragile. You'll find it inside my armor, behind the chest socket. I need you to get it for me. You can not fail this, Jack."
"I can do it. But why is it so important?"
"Because that's where I keep my heart."
Jack sighed for the hundredth time in the last hour, wondering why he still believed in Pitch Black after everything they've been through in the last decades. Oh well, at least it was great to know he wasn't the only one going insane on that place. Pitch had always been mad as a hatter, that was for sure, but what he was proposing now crossed the limits of insanity thrice. Unfortunately the Boogeyman seemed to disagree with him, and all the winter child could do for now was wait and hope he wouldn't lose his mind at once during the process, because it'd be really difficult to accept what they were about to do. He could deal with being a winter spirit. He could deal with Fearlings and sand monsters and with the Boogeyman himself. But that kind of magic... he couldn't just accept it really existed because if it did... it meant he had failed his promises again. How could he be so useless, so... meaningless in that world? His eyes fell upon the boiling potion in the cauldron and for a long moment the child simply stared at it, not sure what he should feel about that.
"So... will it really work?"
"Of course it will. Magic never fails, snowflake." Pitch replied, not even bothering to look up from the piece of paper on his hands. A very old spell, he had said. It didn't look old to Jack, but he guessed he should just trust Pitch on that one. As if that wasn't another signal of his imminent madness. Trusting the same spirit that tried to destroy the world and everything good on it surely wasn't a good idea. "And you can say we're lucky. I've saved some of the ingredients for a rainy day."
"Well, it's storming like a bitch." And the Nightmare King laughed all of sudden. It wasn't that cruel laughter he had been used to hear. It was a soft, unfamiliar sound that made something warm move inside Jack, something that really felt good and right in that place where everything was wrong all the time. "What's so funny?"
"I missed it. You, your sense of humor..."
"Can't say I believe it, since you're the one that kicked me out for no reason." Jack spatted harsher than he had expected, yet he noticed Pitch's eyes widening softly in surprise and pain, as if he had just touched an infected wound, and whatever else he was going to say was lost in the very moment their eyes finally met. The strange light shining on the Boogeyman's silver orbs were always so easy to read, just like an open book he had memorized, even if he had spent a good part of his life trying to forget it. "Why, Pitch? We... we were happy. We could've been a family..."
"I made a mistake." The older spirit said softly, his voice suddenly too tired. It lacked the constant proud and sweet lies that always had adorned it, and in that moment Pitch sounded like the man he was no more, exhausted hurt from a battle he wouldn't survive. "I thought I could have everything. My powers, my revenge... you. But you were right. No one can have everything, and now that I have my heart inside me again I see... That life we shared would've been enough. You... you would've been enough."
For a long, painful minute all Jack heard was his own heart beating too fast against his ribcage, all he felt were the tears trying to run down his cheeks and getting frozen in the middle of their way. He wanted every word he heard to be the truth, yet some part of him, some little part that still had too much power over him, yelled against that. He shouldn't trust Pitch, not now and not ever again. In the end he'd just get hurt and left behind, and it scared him more than the Fearlings and Nightmares, more than his wavering sanity. And once more in the same night he felt warm fingers on his face, wiping away the tears and sending waves full of hope down his body. He felt a gentle kiss against his forehead, and in that moment he decided to forget about everything else. The sadness, the loneliness, the despair... for once it mattered nothing at all. For a second he dared to believe things would get better sooner than later. The winter child took a step back only to stare up at Pitch's silver eyes. There were no lies, no evil plans shining in them, only affection and love, and Jack dared to believe a bit more in him.
The spell would work.
They would do it. They'd be a family.
"Well..." His fingers caressed the old, broken staff resting by his side for one last time before his eyes focused on the strange smoke escaping the cauldron. The spell was finally ready, and there was no going back from that point. Jack moved closer to Pitch, leaning against the spirit's side as gently as he could, allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of safety that he only felt when he was around the Boogeyman. "See you on this new place. Will you find me?"
"Of course I will. I promise."
The sincerity on those words... Jack couldn't have asked for more in that moment.
The last thing he felt was Pitch's arms embracing him tight before darkness engulfed them both completely.
Then, there was nothing.
Thank you for reading!
See ya soon!
