A young winter spirit was backing up slowly, hands raised pleadingly. He was being advanced upon by a group of angry spring naiads and nymphs who looked just about ready to murder him.

The winter spirit was still getting used to this treatment, even after being stuck in this limbo for about 20 years. No matter where he went, he got somebody really mad at him. Normally he was chased off, told to go back to his seclusion in the northern hemisphere.

Being cornered by angry ladies was new.

He thought those flowers looked nice with a bit of frost on their petals. They didn't seem to agree.

"Hey... look I'm really sorry. I didn't mean any harm. I was just-"

"We do not care!" One nymph hissed. A badger shot out from between her legs, making the boy stumble back. "Every year you fly overhead, past when your season of death is over, and kill our flowers in a cold snap!"

A cold snap? He didn't even know what that was. "What do you mean? And why do you call Winter a season of death? What's wrong with Winter?"

"Everything!" A naiad with shocking green hair barked. "Your cold sends our fish out of our ponds, kills our lilies, and makes us retreat to warmer waters! When we get back, we find algae and mosquitoes!"

The boy's heartrate was spiraling now, reaching uncomfortable heights. "Look, I - I'm really sorry! I promise I'll try to avoid-"

But they weren't listening. Their hair was turning to thorned vines and water plant whips. The boy swallowed hard.

Running it is then.

He whipped around (the wind rushing about his body,) only to find himself face to face with a line of trees. The winter spirit's heart plummeted. The ladies took their hold on him.

It was several minutes before someone came to stop the commotion. The boy was bruised, his pale skin spotted with brown and blue, one eye swollen shut, his bottom lip burst, and his arms were covered in many deep enough scratches from being poked and restrained by thorny vines.

Someone (he couldn't muster the strength to open his eyes and see,) somehow scared the ladies off of him. They ran.

"Cowards," the-someone muttered. The winter spirit heard steps coming his way, and reflexively curled in tighter. The-someone knelt in front of him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "There there, its it's alright." Whoever-it-was had a soft voice, making the boy begin to relax with a few sweet words. The-someone scooped the boy spirit into his arms, adjusting so the boy's stick (which he was clinging to like a lifeline,) wasn't prodding him anywhere. "Now... a winter spirit... I haven't seen any of your kind in a few centuries. Where have you been hiding, hmm?"

Whoever-it-was clearly did not anticipate a response, but the boy found himself compelled to answer truthfully regardless. His voice was tight. "Not... hiding..."

"Shhhhh, don't worry about that. We'll speak when you're patched up."

The young spirit wasn't sure what happened then: it still hurt too much for him to open his eyes. All he felt was whoever-it-was walking briskly, a feeling of darkness and mild fear wash over him, and then the cold of a winter climate. He hadn't anticipated darkness and fear to have a gritty, almost sandy texture.

The winter spirit drew in a deep breath of the cold air as soon as he felt the change. Whoever-it-was gently set him down in a drift of snow. The boy immediately felt his strength returning to him, called down an extra heap of snow as a blanket, and finally cracked open his unbruised eye.

His savior was a tall man, with grey skin and mesmerizing gold eyes: his long black robe seemed to meld into his skin and the shadows of the Russian forest clung to his very form. The man would have raised an eyebrow, but (funnily enough to the beaten spirit) the man didn't have any. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah, thanks." He stuck out a spindly arm through the heaps of snow, offering his hand. "I'm Jack Frost."

The man smiled and took Jack's hand. "Pitch Black."

Jack's good eye widened. "I've heard about you! Some of the other spirits say that you've helped them before: they talk quite highly about you." He shifted so that he was now sitting up to his nonexistent biceps in his snow heap.

Pitch looked flattered, but he remained level headed. "I have. I feel it's only fit for those like us to watch each other's backs."

"Those like us?"

Pitch smiled. This young spirit was soaking in his every word. "Those who are unseen by the mortal world; who are hated by their peers for circumstances out of their control; who are forgotten by the Moon and his precious Guardians." Jack flinched at the mention of the Moon: Pitch saw it. "Those of us who are left to the darkness to fend for ourselves."

"Well, I'm glad you came. Those ladies would have probably left me for dead, and then I'd be caught half dead in the middle of Spring and Summer." Jack smiled brightly at Pitch. "And I think you're right. We should look out for each other."

Pitch smiled. He stood and brushed himself off. "It was nice to meet you Jack. I'll see you around sometime."

Before he could leave, Jack stopped him with a hasty "Wait!" Pitch stopped, than turned back to the boy. "I just wanted to ask-" he gestured upwards vaguely. "Does he - I mean, surely I'm not the only one who he..."

"Does he talk? Is that what you're trying to ask?" Jack's face flushed, but he nodded. Pitch sighed. "The Man in the Moon isn't a very talkative person. He talks to a select few people on select occasions using select words. Unless you're someone important to him, I wouldn't bet on hearing from him any time soon. I myself have only talked with him a small handful of times, but that is due to my age and... history, shall we say, with him." Jack deflated. Pitch felt his shriveled heart soften at the sight. "Don't worry yourself with him Jack," he whispered. "Worry yourself with those who matter to you."

And with that, Pitch vanished into the shadow of a tree.

They would continue to meet time after time. Jack found a friend in Pitch. Pitch would sit and talk with Jack for hours when no one else would; sometimes they would go racing each other, Jack through the wind and Pitch on a dark horse; more often than not, together or not, they would come across other seasonal sprites, immortal spirits, and forgotten entities whom they would befriend. Jack learned how Pitch was dependent on the fear of others to survive. Pitch in turn learned of Jack's unkillable love and desire for fun.

Jack was always trying to make children see him. He threw enchanted snowballs, cancelled their school with massive snowdays, and gave them all the ice to skate on (just to scratch the surface.) But nothing worked.

So, for three hundred years, Jack was in isolation broken only by Pitch.

He met the guardians, but they always ran off quickly enough with their neverending work. Bunny didn't like him: the blizzard of '68 didn't help; Tooth was sweet, but he'd only met her once; he'd only met North once as well, and having the Russian's swords pointed at his nose told him to keep a healthy distance. Jack liked Sandy though. Sandy would send dreams and let Jack run his hands through them without complaint: he would try to send the winter spirit dreams just for him on occasions, but it was as if the energetic ball of snow and ice never slept. Still, they'd only really met once or twice. Jack just assumed that distance was the best with the Guardians, like Pitch said, so he would simply watch and run like mad if Bunny saw him snitching an egg or two.

Life wasn't great, being invisible and effectively forced to keep a distance with most others and all, but Jack had Pitch, so he couldn't say it was bad either.

Of course, all good things don't last.

A/N

So this is the beginning. While I have this story labeled as a Dark!Jack story, he isn't going to be straight up evil, or even really evil at all: you'll see what I mean as the story progresses. I honestly find there aren't that many good Dark!Jack stories, with the ones I find either incredibly ooc, dark in the wrong way, or nonsensical: not that I am talking crap, just stating an opinion.

I considered making this a trilogy like I did my BNHA trilogy, but I decided that the three sections were too short, and would be better as three parts of one work. Also I am going to be tying in the book lore, as well as I know it; but that won't come into play until about halfway through part 2. Speaking of parts, a lot of the first part is going to assume you as the reader are familiar with the movie: example, it isn't going to explore Manmy contacting the Guardians, bcuz that is almost exact to the movie. The story is going to focus almost solely on Jack, and if something is happening on screen, it'll either be explained, or assumed to be similar if not identical to the movie.

Also, the premise of Jack's and Pitch's friendship was inspired by a one shot I read. I don't remember the name or the author, but it was a oneshot under very similar circumstances: young immortal Jack gets beat up, (in that fic babytooth tries to intervene,) Pitch shows up, (again, in that fic, Jack doesn't wake up I think,) and Pitch goes on a small spiel about those left behind caring for each other. It's really cute and I encourage people to look for it.

Well, this was a short chapter, but the next few are longer. I have to cover a whole movie after all.

So long Lovies!