People were cheering, pointing to the sky. Immortals were crying aloud the name of one of their kind, their voices dragging the others' attention to a figure rolling in the sky. Behind the figure was a black nightmare, following closely to keep an eye out. The figure himself was tumbling and silently cheering in the wind. He zoomed across the skylines of the city of Aureum, exploring its every nook and cranny, looking at the hundreds of faces pointed his way. He even saw cameras being pointed towards him.

They could see him. Pitch hadn't lied. They could actually see him.

The shock of it all hit him too hard, and the figure dashed right back to where he came from, to the short towers pointing like fingers from the center of Pitch's castle. He scampered through the open window and into his new plush bedroom: his breathing was erratic and he was having trouble concentrating. After three hundred years, he could finally be seen; and this change had come about as he slept. He didn't know what to think or do or say. More than that, he had seen so many of his Winter brothers and sisters in the city, more than he had even known existed himself. Those had been the first to notice him.

He collapsed into a chair and held his head. It was filled with swarming incoherent thoughts.

He heard the door to his chamber open, but he didn't bother to look up. He knew who it was.

"Quite disorienting, isn't it, Jack?" Pitch calmly scooted a chair over and sat down across from his boy, who nodded silently. "Don't worry. You'll adjust soon."

Jack Frost tilted his head just enough to make eye contact with Pitch. "They can see me!" His voice was still MIA, but Pitch understood nonetheless. "They actually see me!"

He smiled. "Yes, they do." He reached out a spindly arm and pushed Jack into a more proper sitting position. He lightly brushed his fingers down the red mark on Jack's cheek and neck, his touch ghostly: the wound was no longer hot and inflamed, but they had been told the discoloration would never properly go away. Jack went still at the touch. "Is your voice any better? You've been silent for over a week now."

Jack shrugged and looked to the side, waving his hand in a so-so fashion. "It wants to come, but... I don't know. It just won't. I had been hoping getting out and into the Wind would help kickstart it." He was glad Pitch had such acute hearing, for his strange enunciated breath way of speaking was barely audible to himself even.

Pitch leaned back with a soft hum. Jack fiddled with the hem of his shirt in the silence. Since his jacket had been torn and his old clothing was really very old and worn down, he had been outfitted with new clothing, along with a whole closet at his disposal: right now he was wearing a pair of grey jeans, a simple light blue t-shirt that was far softer and more comfortable than it looked, and a strange wrap-style headwear that rested on his shoulders: he could pull it up and around his head and face, or even pull it down and around his forearms. It too was very soft, but it was black with gold and white patterns. It was sitting bunched and curled on his shoulders at the moment, blown off his head by the wind.

Pitch sighed. "Well, I had hoped you would have your voice for this, but I have a surprise for you."

Jack snapped out of his daze. "Really?"

"Oh yes." A small smile was tugging at the corner of Pitch's mouth. "Right before my reign, I met someone. He was the last child believer (the last believer at all, actually,) and I came to personally persuade him to join our cause. I told him all about you: in fact, he was the first mortal to know the name Jack Frost. I promised him I would let him meet you once you were well."

The air in the room caught in Jack's throat as the door to his chamber opened once again. In stepped Sarah, his sister, followed by...

"Jamie," Jack breathed, awestruck.

Little Jamie Bennett was half hiding behind Sarah's legs. He was staring at Jack with wide eyes. "J-Jack Frost?" He poked himself out a bit further from behind Sarah's legs. His voice was slightly hopeful, but still quivering noticeably from fear.

Jack nodded quickly. He scooted forward and off of his seat, down on one knee before Jamie. Pitch and Sarah stepped off to the side, watching silently. Jamie took a few tentative steps towards the Winter spirit. "You bring snow and ice, right? And you control the wind?"

Jack was nearly vibrating with how quickly he was nodding. Internally he was cursing his voice for abandoning him. Still, he opened his mouth and tried to say, "yes! Yes that's me," but all that came out was that same enunciated breath, and nothing more.

Jamie tilted his head and the lack of noise. He cast a nervous glance to the other two occupants in the room. "Mr. Pitch says you got really sick. Did that take your voice?"

With a flinch, Jack made another so-so motion with his hand. Jamie eyed the motion, listed carefully as Jack breathed "we don't know when my voice will be back," and nodded.

"It's ok. My sister can't really speak very well yet, so I understand."

Jamie had no idea why that simple sentence seemed to push Jack almost to tears. He closed the distance so he was standing right in front of the winter spirit. Fishing around in his jacket pocket, Jamie pulled out the folded crayon drawing with the dark form of Jack added. "Mr. Pitch showed me this. That's you, yeah?"

Jack took the crayon drawing as delicately as if it were the Mona Lisa itself. He stared hard and long at the stick-like form that was so clearly his own that was hovering over the crayon rendition of Jamie like a guardian angel. Slowly, he looked up to Pitch, his eyes misted over with tears. "You made him believe, in me?"

Pitch could no longer hear, but he could lip-read. He gave a single graceful nod.

Suddenly, Jamie found himself being snatched up in a tight bear hug. He gave an "ompf" of surprise, but when he realized it was Jack who was clinging to him, he relaxed and returned the hug. Jack was shaking from head to toe. Jamie initially thought that the older boy had actually been reduced to tears, but he was wrong.

Slowly, coming and going in spurts before it solidified, came a bubbling laughter. It was a sound of pure joy, and relief, and happiness in abundance: a sound that instantly wiped all the fear away from Jamie for one blissful moment so that he couldn't help but join in the laughter, though he didn't know what was funny. Sarah immediately began laughing as well.

Even Pitch cracked a proper smile. He watched the scene with a keen eye. Affection, happiness, and everything inbetween had never been his strong suit since he had been twisted and deformed into Pitch Black. What he did know of the subject came from distant memories of his family.

But Jack, despite his forced 300 years of isolation, was filled with love, joy, fun, care, and everything else. Loving others came as naturally as breathing to him.

He was just what was needed.

When it came to the position Pitch had planned for Jack in the kingdom, he had no doubt that the boy would instantly accept.

Pitch watched as Jack, in a surge of adrenaline and joy, picked up Jamie and leapt right out the window again, soaring and tumbling through the air with a newfound excitement. He watched as the people laughed and cried after Jack, calling his name.

It was perfect.

Jack would be the people's prince of light and hope under the reign of their king of darkness. The people would look to Jack and trust him and he would not let them down. All the while, he would be unconsciously knitting the people closer into Pitch's reign, subconsciously acting on his boundless trust for Pitch.

Pitch leaned on the window sill Jack had leapt out of, watching his boy tumble once again through the air, his laughter ringing across the city and bringing smiles. Pitch smiled.

This new world was perfect.

A/N

So that's the end of part 1. I wanna clarify again that Pitch is a mentor/father figure to Jack and him calling Jack "His boy" is simply how I see his slightly possessive nature being shown. It's a head canon of mine that Pitch addresses people close to him as "my --": like in my other ROTG fic he called Adalie "my dear", Jack in this fic is "my boy" or "my dear boy", and I think that if he pursued romance again, he'd 100% call her "my love" or "my darling" or something equally romantic: he even refers to the Guardians (MiM specifically) as "my old friend(s)". He possessive.

But I'm getting off track.

I REALLY enjoyed taking the "you made him believe in me" scene from the movie with Jack and Bunny, and transferring it to here with Jack and Pitch. It also seems only fitting that pure joy is what gives Jack his voice back.

Now, as I have said previously, I will be taking a week or two long break from this, so that I can prewrite more chapters. Also to emphasize that this is the end of a part.

Phoenix-Jessica Winchester-Morse was the only commenter last chapter! For all intents and purposes, the Guardians are dead. They ceased to be. The question is, are they truly dead? Because Jamie knows that they are real, but he doesn't believe in them; the way you know someone you can't get along with is real, but you can't support what they do. Also I do try to answer or recognize any comments I recieve on my fics. Yall seem to love that.

And I love receiving them! Please do tell me what yall think of the story so far, any issues you have found (plot holes, out of character moments, reoccurring grammar issues, ect,) and get hyped to part two! It's much more fun! For me at least, hehehehe.

So long Lovies!