Sandy was obviously surprised by Jack's cold shoulder as he stormed past him and up the ramp without a glance. Sandy shut the door and hurried after him, but he just couldn't keep up with Jack's long strides. Jack walked into the lab, where the doctor was showcasing an interesting experiment to the rest of the Holiday leaders. They stopped and looked at Jack, then behind him to a red-faced Sandy who was panting.

"Both bones are split," Jack said, addressing the doctor and only the doctor.

"What happened?" Dr. Finkelstein asked.

"He squeezed me too hard," Jack said. The doctor opened his mouth to speak, but Jack cut in. "And it was because you decided to try and drench him that he squeezed me like that. So don't you dare try to blame Oogie alone for that. He, unlike you or any of them," he gestured fiercely at the other leaders, "was trying to help me. So drop whatever filth you're planning on spewing about Oogie and set my bones."

The doctor looked shocked. "Jack…"

"No. I won't hear any more about you and your blasted rivalry with him. He is my friend, and that's that. Argue and I'll cut out your tongue."

The Holiday leaders stared in horror at Jack. Dr. Finkelstein snapped his mouth shut and covered it with one gloved hand. He stared intently at Jack, as if wondering if the Pumpkin King was serious, and when Jack narrowed his eyeholes and frowned, he decided that Jack wasn't playing around. It would be nothing for him to reattach his tongue, but he didn't fancy the pain from losing it. He nodded and guided his chair to a shelf, where he gathered several items, then he headed for his operating table. Jack strode over, swinging his cloak off and throwing it on a hook, and leaned back on the cold, metal surface, allowing the doctor to strap him in. It was useful for restraining in certain, painful cases, but Jack was one of the few citizens of Halloween Town that could burst the bonds with ease. As that was the case, the doctor kept his mouth shut tight to resist speaking ill of Oogie.

After strapping a Jack in, he spoke quietly, minding his tongue so he wouldn't lose it. "Let me see the break."

Jack winced as he gingerly lifted his right arm from his ribs and held it out. The Holiday leaders stared at Jack's body, or lack thereof as the doctor grasped his wrist and tilted the bones this way and that, muttering to himself. His head was perched on a long neck that turned into his spine, which went down and disappeared beneath the back of his trousers. His ribs were normal ribs, but they encircled nothing, leaving the place where Jack's stomach would be empty to his spine. It was so bizarre to see him "naked" from the hips up that they couldn't help but stare. Jack didn't even look at them, grinding his teeth together as the doctor observed the break. He sat back and nodded.

"This will hurt, Jack," the doctor said then looked over his shoulder. "Cover your ears."

At once, they all obeyed. Jack laid his head back onto the table, closed his eyeholes, and lay rigidly against the metal. It wouldn't hurt less if he relaxed, as muscles weren't a factor. He clenched his teeth as the doctor grasped his wrist and lay the splint against his ulna. Then there was pain, all-consuming, white-hot pain, and Jack howled like a wounded animal.

The noise was horrifying, and Sandy and the others cringed as Jack continued to shriek and scream. When they had asked if broken bones could really incapacitate Jack, they had never thought about how painful it was to break an arm. But hearing Jack screeching out wild, terrifying cries that testified to how agonizing it was left no doubt in their minds about the level of pain Jack was in. Sandy even wondered how the bone-man could howl like that but stand still and sigh over being eaten alive.

Sally came bolting in with the other women as the doctor finished setting the second bone. They looked terrified, and Sally ran over to Jack, who was lying very still and breathing heavily.

"What happened?" Sally demanded.

"Setting his broken bones," the doctor replied. "The worst is over. I should have warned you he would scream."

"You most certainly should have!" Psyche snapped, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder. She approached Jack and reached for his good hand. "Are you alright, sugar?"

"No sweets," Jack muttered, his mind sluggish from exhaustion.

Psyche laughed. "No sweets," she promised. "But are you okay? That sounded horrible."

Jack snorted. "You should have felt it." He looked down to see his ulna and radius each attached to long, sturdy rods with strips of cloth. "Please tell me we're done."

"Just have to pad it and sling it," the doctor assured him. "Then you can eat. Sally already prepared the guest room for you." He began to stuff cotton padding in between the bones before wrapping them tightly in strips of cloth. "I hope dinner is almost ready, Sally. He's dead on his feet."

Sally nodded. "The food is ready. We'll bring it up." She gazed at Jack's pinched expression for a moment then leaned over and pecked his thin lips.

Jack smiled then lay back and allowed the doctor to finish padding his arm. Squanto leaned over curiously and spoke.

"Why add the padding?"

The doctor secured the cloths around his arm then began to fashion a sling from another long piece of cloth.

"When a human breaks his arm, he has muscles and tissues padding the bones," he explained. "It makes jarring less painful. As Jack has no muscle or tissue, I pad his arm with cloth to stop it from jarring when he walks or moves."

"Makes sense," Squanto said.

"You're certainly a fascinating fellow, Jack," Sandy said.

Jack didn't smile. He turned to glare at the men, and they got a sense of cold rage behind his empty eye sockets. They stepped back uneasily, but before they could speak into the uncomfortable silence, the women brought dinner into the room on several rolling carts. Sally walked over to Jack and smiled.

"Can I unstrap you?" she asked.

"All he's got to do is make a sling," Jack replied, the ice in his tone melting in the warmth that shone from his face toward Sally.

"Unstrap him. Let him eat," the doctor said, doubling the cloth over and struggling to stitch it.

Sally laughed and took the cloth and the needle and thread. In a few quick movements, she threaded the needle, measured the cloth with a glance, and neatly stitched it together. When she'd knotted and snipped the thread, she draped it over Jack's left shoulder and settled his right arm into place. He moved his shoulder then nodded once. She unstrapped the belts and he stood and took a few experimental steps. Satisfied, he went to inspect the food. It looked delicious, with worm's wort soup and baked bat and spider casserole and nightshade and cream cakes.

"Looks delightful," he said. "Did you make all of this yourself, Sally?"

"Oh no," Sally said. "They're my recipes, but they helped."

"Thank you!" Jack exclaimed. "Will you be having some? I do know that this isn't to your usual tastes."

"We're willing to try them," Carol assured him. "Sally, help him make a plate. Then you must sit down, Jack. You look dead on your feet."

Jack smiled. "Undead, actually. But thanks for the sentiment. Not everybody understands such trivial things as how I feel."

That barb struck deep, and Sandy flushed. "How you feel is not trivial, Jack," he said.

"Could've fooled me, Sandy," Jack replied brightly.

The false cheeriness drove home his point hard and fast, and the Holiday leaders flinched, suddenly finding themselves interested in the various tools and projects, anything so they wouldn't have to look at Jack. They hadn't realized how damaging their rejection over his Holiday had been. Then again, Sandy thought, if he had been in Jack's position, he would have been understandably distressed. And the length of time also mattered. They had rejected him for three years with no explanation. They hadn't even discussed it with each other. Sally had been the one to piece together that they were traumatized by Oogie.

Sally made Jack a plate and he sat on a stool in front of a bench. He used his left hand just as he'd use his right hand, eating with ease as the women got a bit of everything to try. But at least they were willing. Their husbands stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking everywhere but at him. Except, he noticed grimly, Sandy. He was gazing at Jack with a sad, pained expression. Jack glared back. If what Sandy had asserted was really true, about his feelings not being trivial, then he would not hold back any longer. Sandy didn't look away.

"I'm sorry, Jack," he finally said. The others looked at the short, squat man, surprised.

Jack scowled. "Oh really?"

"Oogie scared us."

"And not the good kind of fear," Jack intoned, taking a bite of the casserole. "I know. Because Sally told me. None of you even thought to try and talk to me."

Sandy shrugged. "We didn't really understand it," he said. "It wasn't something we were trying to do. It just happened. We didn't even talk about it with each other. We barely talked to our wives about what he did."

Jack chewed his next bite slowly, and his face lost the edge of hostility. "That, I suppose, was my fault."

"What?" Sandy asked.

"I didn't stitch him back together like I should have," Jack said, stirring his soup with his spoon. "It was almost a year before he was sewn back together, and it was Lock, Shock, and Barrel who did that. It's usually me. He was angry at me for a few reasons, and that was one of them. Another was that I'd left town with no indication of when I was coming back. He was trying to avoid this year's situation, me disappearing and not coming back. I guess he checked Scotland and realized something else was going on. He just panicked. And he didn't realize how fragile you all were, scare-wise. Plus, he was punishing me at the same time."

The leaders stared at him, half relieved and half offended. They were relieved that Jack was talking civilly to them again, but they weren't really happy about being called fragile. Jack stopped stirring his soup and began to eat it. Sandy spoke again.

"We're not fragile," he said.

"Not in most instances," Jack agreed between bites. "But you are sorely lacking in the stamina for fear and unknown stress."

"Fear is not our department," Sandy had to admit. "But perhaps we can build it up?"

Jack didn't look convinced, but before he could speak, there was the sound of the front door opening. A wildly happy voice echoed through the tower up to the room.

"Jack! Oh, Jack!"

Jack froze, wild panic appearing in his expression. He stood up and looked ready to bolt. The doctor shook his head.

"It's the Mayor," he groaned. "Must've heard your screaming."

Jack let out a strangled noise and placed his head in his good hand. "I can't talk about Halloween right now! I can't! I'm too tired."

"Explain it," Sandy said, confused at the visceral reaction.

"To him?" Jack gave a soft bitter laugh.

Sandy looked at the stress in the Pumpkin King's face. Well, that Mayor certainly wouldn't be bothering him now! Sandy strode to the door and out to the top of the ramp. The Mayor had his pleasant face to the front, and he was jogging up. He paused when he saw Sandy.

"Sandy Claws!" he said jovially. "You must have brought Jack back to us. Where is he? We must start talking about Halloween. It's less than three months away and we haven't planned a thing."

Sandy shook his head sternly. "Jack is not discussing anything with you today."

The faces switched quickly then switched back. "You're funny, Sandy. Our Holiday is very behind schedule. If you'll excuse me."

Sandy matched his sidestep, blocking the ramp. "I'm not joking. Come back in a few days."

The faces switched again, and the blue, unhappy expression pouted. "But Sandy, you don't understand," he whined.

"No, you don't understand. Leave now. Or I'll make you."

The Mayor took two steps forward, trying to push past the Christmas leader, but Sandy threw out his hand. A freezing blast shot from his hand and coated the entire ramp in ice. The Mayor yelled as his feet slipped out from under him and he slid down the entire ramp, skidding to a stop at the bottom. He wailed and tried multiple times to climb back up, but the ice sent him shooting back down every time. At last he realized that he wouldn't get his way and stormed to the door. He threw an angry look back at Sandy, then slammed the door behind him.

Sandy shook his head. What kind of a fruitcake was that guy? He turned back to find the other Holiday leaders had come up behind him and had been backing him up. And there, standing in the doorway, was Jack, a strange expression on his face. He studied Sandy with an intense frown. Then he spoke.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"He needs to learn to give you a break."

Jack smiled wryly. "I suppose he does."

He blinked and yawned. Patrick grinned at him.

"Go on now, Jack. Go and rest. Ya certainly need it."

Jack nodded. "I guess I'll see you later," he said vaguely.

"In three days," Sandy said promptly. "After you've rested. Then we'll get started on Halloween preparations."

Jack's sad smile told the rest of the leaders that he didn't believe they would come and help, but he turned and made his way further up the ramp toward the guest room. The others looked at each other, grimly determined to show Jack that he was wrong and that they would come back. They turned to see Sally smiling at them, their wives talking with each other over their plates of half-eaten food. First things first, though, they needed to taste some of Sally's cooking. And they knew it would be an interesting experience. Just like the rest of Halloween Town.