Pitch watched Jack struggle against the giants. His power was very weak compared to the natives of Icentuva, and they were putting him through an emergency course of strengthening. They usually only forced their people to go through such a strenuous, painful action at times of war, but this time it was only Jack. Freizena had taken to the boy, which was good. She wanted to be sure he was prepared for Obscurus, and Pitch would be forever grateful.

The Nightmare King tore his gaze from the struggling boy back to the table. He had distilled the Crystangler glands and was in the tedious process of combining the ingredients for the medication. He had only one step left. Taking up the container with the liquid light from the glands, he mixed it in with the other ingredients. A flash of brilliant white light startled him, blinding his sensitive eyes. Feeling with his slim hands, he picked up a crystal rod and stirred everything together, trying to blink away the echo of the flash.

It took ten minutes for even a little sight to come back to him, but he continued to stir, counting in his head. The stirring stick vibrated in his hands, and he pulled it out of the dazzling liquid. Turning away, he rubbed his eyes. He needed to be in the dark. The dark was better than blinding light!

Squinting, he managed to section the light off, capping each serving of medication. It seemed to take forever and staring at the bright light in the crystal vials made his eyes water and burn. After twenty minutes, he was left with over two hundred vials. Two hundred days of medication. Okay, so he'd overestimated. But that was okay. They had extra now, in case Nightlight ever needed more. When the blinding substance was contained in the vials, he set them to soak in black hole shadows. It wouldn't do if the light escaped.

With his eyes still smarting and watering, he picked up a vial and headed into the darkness of the hold. Even the starlight reflected off of the snow and ice hurt his eyes. They hadn't burned so badly since the first time he'd gone into the Moon Clipper. The darkness of the hold was soothing, and he closed the door to the hold. It was constructed well, and no light could be seen anywhere but the vial. He threw his cloak over the small crystal container, leaving himself in blackness.

Sighing in relief, he sat down and looked at the shadowy outlines. When his eyes adjusted, he would be able to see everything clearly. That was the one advantage of his horrible childhood. He wasn't afraid of the dark. Or at least he wasn't afraid of places that were dark. People, on the other hand, were different. No, he thought, person. A person is different.

Pitch sat in the soothingly dark room, relaxing. He began to doze before a whimper reached his ears. Fear blasted his consciousness, coming from the boy lying across the room. Dark, dark, dark, bad things happen in the dark, get out of the dark, let there be light, please, please, please! Jumping to his feet, the vial fell from the crate he'd been resting on. He scooped it up and hurried to Nightlight's still, dim form. Pain was etched over the familiar features. Tears poured from his eyes, and terror shone from the black orbs that had once been silvery and light.

"Shh, I'm sorry, Nightlight," Pitch crooned. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like to be in the dark. But I have medicine. Just like Tsar and Tsarina gave you when you caught the Murk. This should help. Let me find an injector."

Pitch set the vial right beside the injured boy's head, and his fear lessened immediately. As the Nightmare King dug through his medical crate, he made himself remember that he wasn't the only one who had been hurt and left to bleed in the dark before. Pulling out a fresh injector, Pitch cleaned it with a cloth then uncapped it.

"Here we are," Pitch said. He filled the injector with the medicine then stood there, thinking. "Where should I inject it?" he mused. "Your neck would be good, I think. Yes?"

Nightlight, though weak and wounded, made a face. Pitch snorted, his lips twitching.

"I know you don't like shots. But it will help."

The boy closed his eyes as Pitch placed his thin fingers on the dim cheek. He turned the head to the side, placed the small needle against Nightlight's throat, then pressed it home. The reaction from Nightlight's light-starved body was instant. He screamed, the sound echoing through the small space. His back arched off the makeshift bed as his veins shot through with the medicine. His skin was translucent for a brief moment, then it was gone. It was only Pitch's keen eyes that saw the most minute change in brightness.

Nightlight's breathing was heavy, but he began to wriggle his fingers. A moan escaped his throat, and Pitch reached over to take the trembling digits. He pet the back of the thin, childish hand, humming a tune as old as the stars that Nightlight used to sing to Lunar while Pitch was listening. There was the sound of rapid feet on the deck.

"Pitch?" Jack's voice called. Fear pulsed against Pitch, light and nervous compared to the terror that had flooded from Nightlight. Scream, worried, was all that Pitch could hear from the fear.

"In the hold, Frost," Pitch said, caressing the anxious boy's mind.

The door was torn open, and Pitch flinched at the starlight; his eyes would be sensitive for days after that flash.

"You okay?" Jack asked, coming down the stairs. He squinted at what, to him, was nothing but a shadowy outline, though his tired expression and trembling limbs were plain for the Nightmare King to see.

"I am fine."

"Was that Nightlight who screamed?"

"Yes."

"Is he okay?"

"No."

Jack paused then snorted. "You know what I meant."

"The first half dozen injections will be incredibly painful," Pitch answered, looking down into the eyes which were just a shade lighter.

"Oh. Well, we all heard it, and we didn't know what it was. So I can tell them that you guys are okay?"

"Yes, Frost."

Jack's eyes lingered for a moment before he turned around. Pitch cleared his throat. "Jack?"

The use of his first name made the boy turn his head fast. "What?" he asked, clearly on edge.

"Bring the dark lantern please."

"Why? Aren't you okay in the dark?" Jack said, a half-teasing note in his young voice.

"I am. But he isn't," Pitch said, staring down at Nightlight.

"Oh. Right." Jack rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, okay. I'll bring it."

He was up and back in half a minute. The pain had lessened Nightlight's fear, but it had begun again as soon as he was conscious of the dark. He had been in and out of a half-conscious state for days, and Pitch could tell when he was awake. The Nightmare King smoothed his hand through the dark, greasy locks on Nightlight's head.

"Frost?" he asked softly.

"Yeah?"

"Are you done training for now?"

"Um, I guess. Why?"

"I would like to help Nightlight bathe. I will need assistance."

Jack's face twisted in embarrassment, a too-human response, but he nodded. "Yeah. What can I do to help?"

"I need you to bring enough water to fill a tub." Pitch stood up and pulled a large, old-fashioned bathtub from the wall. "This one, to be precise. We'll have to heat the water. Nightlight, unlike you, is affected by the cold. He's in enough pain. I'll set things up, you bring the water."

Jack nodded and dashed off. Pitch set up a firepit in a shallow metal bowl, lighting the dark fire in it. He placed a grate over it then heaved the tub on top of it. The fire wouldn't burn the wood, but he didn't want the bottom to be too hot for Nightlight. He went back to sit beside Nightlight, wrapping his fingers around the cold hand.

Within half an hour, Earth time, the tub was full of steaming water. Jack shut the door to the hold and stood there for a moment, his expression unsure. Pitch gestured him over.

"Get his clothes off, Jack," Pitch said. "They need to be washed anyway, and we can wash them after we wash him."

Jack struggled to peel the stiff, filthy shirt off the limp body. It seemed stuck to his skin. Nightlight didn't move, pressing his face into Pitch's shoulder. When the top was off, Pitch and Jack saw the reason it had been stuck. They were covered in a sticky black substance that clung to fabric and skin equally. Nightlight's entire torso was covered in it.

"He was wounded," Pitch said as Jack peeled the clothes off his hand. "That's what happens when the light disappears and he bleeds."

"Yuck," Jack muttered.

"Here, you hold him this time. I'll get his pants off."

Pitch had a much easier time, and when he was naked, the Nightmare King picked up the dim, shivering boy and dipped him slowly into the water. Nightlight shuddered, clutching at Pitch's neck as a long, sighing whimper left his lips.

"It's alright, Nightlight," Pitch murmured. "Relax."

After several minutes of easing the boy into the water, Nightlight did indeed relax. He sank into the water, and Pitch picked up a small pillow, settling it under the slim neck. Pitch took off his long, black overcoat and pushed his sleeves up.

"I suggest you take off your jacket, Frost."

Jack obeyed then retrieved the soap that Pitch pointed out. Dipping the soap into the warm water, Pitch began to scrub the almost too-thin body while Jack helped him. Pitch could sense Jack's worry that Nightlight was starving. For a few moments, Pitch wondered if he should say anything—he'd been keeping his fear-reading ability to himself—but he finally decided that Jack was as close to a friend as he could hope for, so he spoke up.

"He needs to eat as much as you do," Pitch said.

"What?" Jack blinked, his eyes narrowing.

"You're worried about him being skinny," Pitch replied.

"I…Yes, but how—?" Jack began.

"Worry is a few steps below fear. I understand it just as well. It speaks to me, too."

Jack stared for another few moments then shrugged. "Okay. So he's not starving like a human would?"

"No, Frost," Pitch assured him. "Food will give his body energy to heal faster, but he doesn't need food any more than you and the other Guardians do. It's just nice to eat." He paused. "Besides, Nightlight has always been very skinny. It has to do with his native people, just like my darkness has to do with my native people."

Jack nodded, worrying his bottom lip. Nightlight began to slip into the tub, and Jack gently pulled him back up. The dark orbs searched the blue, and Pitch could feel the buzz of a connection. Jack grinned.

"Can you hear me?"

A barely perceptible nod was the only answer the dim boy could give.

"Do you like stories?"

Another twitch of Nightlight's head.

"Cool. I got one about the time I was hit by a train."

Nightlight blinked, and Pitch snorted. "How in the world were you hit by a train? You're practically immaterial on Earth."

Jack giggled. "Yeah. Unless you put magic into an item. Then it can hurt you."

"What were you trying to do with the train?" Pitch asked dryly.

"Well, I watched this movie called the Polar Express, right? It's got a representation of North in it, you know, and it was great. But there's this scene where the train skates on ice."

Pitch stopped, looked up, and pressed his lips in a thin line. "Oh, you didn't."

"Um, no. I didn't. But I did try. When the people started screaming, I kinda realized it was a bad idea." Pitch gave him a look and he laughed. "Okay, a really bad idea."

"Do I even what to know what happened?"

"Well, the train was beginning to derail," Jack said, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and excitement. "And sense came back to me because there were kids screaming on the train. And I decided to try and stop it. I used South Wind because the train was going north. I thought I could do it…and it kinda worked. But I got hit with the engine." He paused then grinned, baring his sparkling teeth. "It hurt."

"You are truly a child at heart, Frost," Pitch said sternly, but his eyes were soft, and a smile teased the edges of his mouth. "But next time, don't try to imitate movies. Your life is exciting enough without making a train skate on ice."

Jack laughed. "I learned my lesson."

Pitch nodded. "Grab that towel, Frost. He's clean."

The Nightmare King wrapped the abnormally thin boy in a large towel then picked up the bloody clothes. Jack reached out and Pitch tossed him the pants. They worked to clean the blood out of the silvery blue clothes. The water ran black by the time they were done, but the clothes were spotless. They had great tears in them, but Jack ran his fingers over the cloth, willing his magic out to seal the rips.

"There we go," Jack said. "All better."

A knock sounded out at the door of the hold. A giant opened it, peering down at the occupants.

"Jack Frost?" he asked. "Are you coming back to train? The Chief has commanded that we recommence."

"I'll be right there," Jack said. Turning to Pitch, he winced. "I hope the training gets easier."

"It'll get harder before it gets easier," Pitch said. Jack pulled on his blue hoodie.

"See you later," he said.

Pitch nodded, waving Jack away. The boy closed the door behind him again, leaving Pitch in the dimly lit room. With great care, he dried off Nightlight then tenderly dressed him. Running his fingers through the still dark but now clean hair, he tilted his head as he gazed at the boy.

"Feel better?" he asked.

Nightlight swallowed, opening his mouth. A rasping voice came out. "Y-y-yes," Nightlight croaked. "T-Th-Thank y-you, P-P-Prism."

Pitch's expression was soft. He pressed a kiss to Nightlight's head. "I'm going to give you dreamsand, Nightlight. You need rest."

A small nod, and Pitch reached over to pick up a small bag of dreamsand. He smiled one of his rare smiles and blew out a small handful into Nightlight's face. Cradling the boy's head in his lap, he began a little chant that he had heard hundreds of times when the light boy had put Lunar to sleep.

"Nightlight, bright light, sweet dreams I bestow. Sleep tight, all night. Forever I will glow."

Pitch watched as Nightlight smiled and fell into sweet dreams without a hint of fear. He then sat back to watch over the boy's sleeping form, just as Nightlight had done for him all those years ago.