I didn't expect to write a sequel to Prismatic Fractals, but I love the characters, flaws and all. I always wanted to add something about Jamie and Prism's past attack on the children of Earth, and this idea sprang into existence. I don't know how long it will be (almost definitely shorter than the first one) but I want to show more of Prism and how he interacts with the Guardians. There's still more to Prism's story and healing, so here it is.
Jack launched himself up as high as he could, laughing gaily at the slow float back to the moon's surface. Bunnymund watched with twitching whiskers, trying not to smile. Sandy had no reservations, and he shook with mirth. North and Toothiana were talking as they strode slowly across the lunar surface. Bunnymund was just as slow, but his expression was of fierce concentration. Prism had been right about the Earthlings having trouble learning about their gravity core, but the three of them had improved quite a bit since their first floating steps. Out of all of those born on Earth, Jack was the best at controlling his center.
The Guardian of Fun floated down, sending up a small puff of bright, silvery moon dust as he landed. Kneeling down, he pulled open the hatch that led down into the depths of the Moon Clipper. He dropped down, landing a bit hard because of the influx of gravity, then he strolled down the passageways. He tried remembering the rhyme that Prism, Lunar, and Nightlight had taught him to get around the ship, and after two wrong turns, he got on track. The bright control room came into view, and he grinned as Nightlight turned to him.
"Hello, Jack," he said, his luminescent eyes gleaming in the bright lights of the room. "Have a nice trip?"
Jack nodded, swinging his staff over his shoulder. "Pretty good. Uneventful, at least. Where's Prism and Lunar?"
"The little Lunanoff is tinkering with his magic. Prism just got back from Earth an hour ago and is freshening up."
"I think I'll go and see him," Jack said. He glanced behind him, unable to stop the smug smile stretching across his face. "You might want to go and find the others. They probably got lost."
Nightlight laughed, tossing his head so that silvery-black hair shook and shimmered from his natural light, then he strode off down the way that Jack came. Jack took off down another tunnel, this one more familiar. It led to his room, as well as Lunar's, Nightlight's, and Prism's. The thought of having his own room was a novel one. He had lived for over three hundred years out in nature, so to have a place he could call his own was amazing. He stopped outside the black door with the prism set in the center then knocked twice. Without waiting for an answer, he walked in to see Prism Lunanoff.
Since his name had changed from Pitch Black back to his childhood name, Prism, the man had acted much different. He was still stoic and reserved, but Jack, Nightlight, and Lunar saw that he was much more relaxed and friendly than he had been. His long, thin form was draped over his bed, a book in front of his face, and he didn't even look up as he spoke in his soft, powerful voice.
"Jack," he greeted coolly.
"Hey, Prism," Jack sang. He jumped onto the bed, bouncing as he settled into place. Prism shifted to make room for him, but he didn't complain about the childish action or fidgety energy that filled his fellow Guardian.
"What brings you here this fine day?"
"I got a letter from Jamie!"
"Hm. And who is Jamie?"
Jack didn't answer, and Prism glanced up as a sharp pang of fear rushed across his consciousness. He doesn't remember that he tried to kill him. For a moment, Prism was confused, then the image of a boy from over fifteen years ago flashed across his mind. His own voice, low and sinister, carrying the threat of pain and death that had come from a source outside of himself, met his ears as the scene played over in his head.
"There's more than one way to snuff out a light."
A gaping hole, dark and all-absorbing, like a sticky pit, opened in his chest, and the room around him faded away. There was no presence at the other end of the connection anymore, but still he floundered in the muck as his own broken psyche tried to pull him down into the suffocating darkness.
"It's okay, Prism," a gentle voice whispered. "You're here on the Moon Clipper. Shh, it's okay. Come back."
Prism could feel thin arms around him as hands ran through his hair. For one wild moment, the man thought that the Tsarina was comforting him after a bad dream, then his focus came back, and he realized that he couldn't breathe. With a gasp, oxygen entered his bloodstream, and he was lying on his bed in his own bedroom. The events from last year came back to him. The kidnapping of Lunar, the trip into the stars, the rescuing of Nightlight, and the face-off with Obscurus, all the memories flooded into his mind. And there was Jack Frost, patiently holding his trembling form to his chest and stroking his hair.
Prism let out a shaky breath then sat up and looked at his hands. Just as he'd feared, the soft grey that was his complexion was now charcoal, much darker. It was always darker after an episode, and heat flooded his face in humiliation. Jack sat there and said nothing. His presence was a welcome one. Jack has often seen Prism's fits, had seen him descend into panic attacks and flashbacks, so he was well-used to them. Lunar and Nightlight would be worried about him when they saw he was so dark. Prism clenched his fists and hit his thighs hard enough to produce an ache; he knew he would find bruises there tomorrow.
"Don't do that, Prism," Jack scolded.
Prism swallowed then stood up. "I suppose we'd better get to the banquet hall. If you're here, the others must be, too. Time to eat."
Jack picked up his discarded staff and walked out of the room with his friend. Prism's expression was grim, and Jack knew why. He hated that Prism had such violent reactions to a man who had been dead for a year. But his broken mind and scarred body would be healing for years. Jack reached over and grabbed Prism's hand, squeezing gently. Prism turned his face slightly and a small smile graced his drawn features.
As they entered the dining hall, Tsar Lunar's round, glowing face turned to beam at them, but as soon as he noticed Prism's abnormal color, his glow dimmed, and the smile was replaced with a serious expression. The other Guardians turned when they saw the change in Lunar. Nightlight grimaced and strode over.
"Is everything okay?" he asked, leaning against his spear.
"Yes," Prism said shortly, his face hot; he hated being the center of attention.
"Flashback or panic attack?" Lunar asked.
"Both," Jack said, his right hand gripping his staff, his left in his hoodie pocket.
"What caused it?" Lunar asked.
Jack grimaced, reluctant to answer. Prism's lips pressed into a thin line.
"Jack told me he got a letter from Jamie." He paused to see how they took the news, but there was no recognition in their faces. He sighed. "The boy I threatened to kill while under Obscurus's influence. The one who still believed after everybody else stopped."
Understanding dawned on the Guardians' faces, and Lunar clicked his tongue.
"That's right. He still believes even though he's an adult. How is he?"
Jack shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. "Haven't read it yet. I wanted to read it with all of you!"
"Let us eat first," North said, his eyes drawn to the feast before them like a moth to a flame.
Jack was agreeable to that, so they filled their plates and sat down to eat. Prism picked at his food, his eyes continually going down to stare at his dark skin. It would be hours, maybe days, before his skin was back to normal. It embarrassed him so much that he was so affected by his past, but the others were kind and understanding. Lunar told him that he was suffering through flashbacks and panic attacks because he finally felt safe enough that his mind was relaxing its iron will. Prism hated that, but it seemed to also be a good thing. So far, he'd only had fits in front of Jack, Lunar, and Nightlight, which helped his wounded pride. He did feel safe around them, and he didn't bother to hide his feelings from them, as much as they sometimes humiliated him.
Jack, noticing Prism's lack of appetite, reached over and snagged a piece of juicy roasted chicken. When Prism glanced up, arching an eyebrow, Jack stuck his tongue out and chomped down on the meat. Prism chuckled, and for a brief moment, his skin turned almost crystalline, a splash of color flooding the air around him before the smile was gone again and he turned back to his food. Jack's sly plan worked, as Prism picked up his fork and began to eat with small bites. Jack smiled to himself then focused on the conversation that Sandy and Lunar were having.
Prism ate half of his food then excused himself. Being around so many adults hurt his mind, and the rest of the Guardians knew that, so they paid no mind to him as he slunk over to a corner and relaxed. He saw an envelope on the floor, and he hummed. Was that the letter Jack had received? He reached down and picked it up, turning it over in his hands.
Reaching out with his mind, he did the mental equivalent of tapping Jack on the shoulder. Jack turned, and he held up the letter.
'May I?'
Jack nodded, turning back to his meal. Prism took out a pocketknife that North had given him for Christmas last year, slitting open the envelope. He shook out the letter and knew at once it wasn't happy news. The ink was a little runny from teardrops that had splashed down as the letter was written. Prism looked up at Jack then began to read.
Jack,
I know it's been a long time, and there's so much to tell you. But the only thing I can share right now is this. My little boy, Jackson, is seven years old. He was just diagnosed with childhood leukemia. Money is tight and my wife and I are terrified that our little boy will die. Please come with the others and bring some fun back into our lives. Lulu doesn't believe in any of you at the moment, but I'm sure Jackson does. We need to make good memories before anything else happens. We've lost our wonder and have only nightmares. We need hope. Please come soon.
Jamie Bennett
Prism stared at the letter, feeling an old sorrow build in his chest. Cancer. The boy had cancer. Judging from Jamie's tears and tone, he must have been in the late stages. Pain lanced through the Guardian of Courage. He spent more time in hospitals than the others. That was where he was most needed. Being constantly surrounded by sickness and death wasn't easy, but it was necessary.
Without a word, he folded the letter neatly and placed it back in the envelope. He carefully placed the letter down where he'd been sitting, glancing up to frown at Jack. Unnoticed, Prism slipped from the dining hall and headed for his ship. There was no undoing the damage he'd done all those years ago to Jamie. But he wouldn't let his child die if he could help it. If they needed money, he would give it. He had millions of dollars hidden in various places, and he often made anonymous donations to hospitals to allow children to get the surgeries they needed.
Lunar didn't like to interfere with his magic. Human beings were extremely sensitive to magic, and it always left more side effects than the symptoms it cured. So Prism wasn't allowed to use magic to heal the boy. But he could give him the courage to face this terrible sickness. That was the one ray of light he could focus on. And for the first time in a few hundred years, he hoped that he wasn't believed in. Because if Jamie saw who he was, he wouldn't be allowed to get near Jackson. But he was hopeful. At the end of his misadventure with the Bogeyman, he hadn't believed in him anymore. Though Jamie still believed in all the others, there was a good chance that he wouldn't believe in Pitch Black anymore. And as he boarded his little ship, he begged whatever deity there was that he would be allowed to help little Jackson Bennett.
