I'm not afraid of the dark, I'm just waiting for a guiding light, It's not apathy, it's not passivity, It's...
In the dark, twisted halls of the Boogeyman's hideout, a series of stairways that lead to nowhere were scarcely decorated in a layer of frost. The only sign of life in the underground lair were a few passing shadows and the troubled soul of a winter spirit.
Jack walked around aimlessly and pondered when exactly he had become comfortable enough to do so. When he first landed down here, he hadn't been looking for a fight but he was certainly expecting one! And when he had started exploring the place, trying to map out the ever-shifting corridors, he always felt the need to look behind him, sometimes catching glimpses of creatures slithering around a corner. But now, he had become accustomed to the feeling of being watched and was even able to talk to Pitch without tensing up in case he tried anything. Because why would he at this point? Jack had gone back to being a neutral party, except this time he had upgraded to 'annoying pest'.
This new... living arrangement? This agreement of theirs was a simple one, although it did favor the Guardian a bit more: Jack was allowed to stay in Pitch's domain whenever he needed an escape from the others. No violence, no sides, no questions asked: just a temporary pitstop for Jack to clear his head. And besides, if Pitch just happened to influence the boy to see things from his perspective, to view him and his cause more favorably during his visits, then... who was he to oppose such an innocent request?
This uneasy truce gave Jack the space that he needed to think. But he has had plenty of time to think before, (300 years in fact) and he knows all too well that his thoughts tend to simply go in circles. He wished someone could just tell him what he should do next, which direction to go to. But waiting around for a sign and listening to what others wanted from him instead of figuring out what he wanted to do is exactly what got him into this mess in the first place!
He needed to find out what this feeling in his heart was and where it came from. Or rather, lack of a feeling? He wanted to care, he wanted to be selfless, he wanted to get involved in the Guardians' cause, and he has! But...
Jack didn't know how to put it into words.
He groaned in frustration and jumped over a rail, letting a draft of wind slow his fall.
When wasting time is just a mindset, it takes time to make time, I won't cripple to fear, I'll steer clear, CLEAR, of the reset
His feet made hardly any noise as he landed on the stone below, but it was still loud enough to catch a nearby Nightmare's attention. With practiced ease, Jack slowly made his way to it, never breaking eye contact, never backing down, and lifted the back of his hand to its snout once he got near it. It sniffed him twice before lowering its gaze in submission.
It took him a while to get this close to one; after all, they didn't seem interested in anything that didn't reek of fear. His over eagerness and determination worked against him, and he soon realized that he needed a smoother approach in order to succeed in his goal. It really tested his patience.
He began petting the black sand along its body absentmindedly. He thought about how he got to this place, that if someone had told him 3 months ago that he would be petting a Nightmare like it was an oversized labradoodle, he wouldn't have believed them.
But... if someone had told him that he would soon become Guardian of Fun, he wouldn't have believed them then either. And if they added that he would potentially throw it all away because he didn't feel like he truly knew himself... because he might not be the good person he thought he was...
...
Nothing good has come of his thinking so far. No great big revelation, no all-encompassing solution, but he still does it. He came here specifically to reminisce, to ponder over his choices and the reasoning behind his choices, right? He had been doing nothing but thinking since he got here, so much so that doing nothing had become his new way of life!
Geez, is this how being a philosopher felt like? His brain hurt and he felt tired; tired of thinking, tired of his current situation, tired of everything!
Jack wished this whole process would just go faster, but self-contemplation (and self-deprecation) was all he knew what to do in order to solve his problems. That was how he had always done it, since he mostly never had anyone to help or seek advice from. But he was just going in circles and 'not doing anything' was not helping. He barely goes out to make snow anymore...
The sand he had been petting slipped out between his fingers as the Nightmare rushed towards one of the exits, standing at the ready along with the other Fearlings and shadowy sand creatures.
Their King was about to return home.
Pitch had been oddly welcoming, albeit a little confused at first. Now, they mostly act like two roommates who share a living quarter and only see each other in their downtime. The two didn't talk much, just let the other be and nod when they passed by.
As much as Jack appreciated their truce and Pitch's mutual tolerance, he would never wish to become like him. That was the one thing he was certain of. He would not let him corrupt him while he's here.
Another thing he was certain of was that he didn't wish for things to go back the way things were before he met the Guardians either. Like nothing happened, as if he didn't help them save the world, as if he didn't form friendships and find a home and a family with them.
He didn't want to be alone again.
It's like a snowflake, Ripped to shards by fickle winds, ever-pulling in every direction
Jack let out a breath, as if it would help ease the heaviness he felt in his heart, and leaped into the air, catching the edge of a crevice in a nearby wall. It was one of the many weird nooks he had found during his explorations, and they made for neat napping spots. He laid in the crescent-shaped hole, letting his leg dangle on the side and manifested a tiny snowflake for him to twirl around in his hands.
Amidst the twisted stairs that went on and on in no clear direction, Jack felt lost.
He knew what the Guardians wanted from him, and he knew what Mim expected of him. Even Pitch made his thoughts clear as to what he wanted to get out of his stay here. But what about Jack? He himself didn't know how to answer that question because he had personally never known what he wanted to become. For the longest time, he had never even thought about becoming more than what he was, he just was.
Wasn't that enough?
Will the fear slip from my body before my soul does? How can I face such fears when they remain unseen?
He wonders if he'll ever get the answers he's looking for before his time comes to fade as well. Would he ever be able to get rid of these unpleasant thoughts and feelings that made the Guardians look at him so warily? Or was this just a part of himself that he was stuck with and had to accept? Would he ever be able to accept them? Would the Guardians ever be able to accept him like this?
Would he ever be able to feel that passion that fueled the other Guardians in what they do? He thought he had felt it in the beginning when he had first started this job, but now he wasn't so sure. If it was passion, then why did it fizzle out so quickly, when the others have kept this love for what they do for centuries! For them, their greatest fear and biggest nightmare is seeing the children lose their childhood spirits, while his was being alone!
How was he supposed to do his job as Guardian of Fun when he couldn't even get out of whatever rut he was in. For crying out loud, it's bad enough that he's letting the Boogeyman run free, but he now basically lives with the guy! And it's not even that bad of an arrangement! What they had going on works.
How do I know I'm afraid if I don't even feel it?
How do I know I'm afraid if I don't feel it?
The boy groaned in frustration, letting his little snowflake float away while he turned around and curled to face the wall.
Is there an underlying consciousness of fear? Something that controls and consumes me from the inside, out? Something I'm unaware of?
Shouldn't there be an inner light bulb flickering on right now? Isn't there something deep within his brain that is supposed to react spontaneously to the fear of being a bad person? Was this something that everybody else had except him? Was there something wrong with him?
Perhaps Pitch's role in the world was more important than the Guardians give him credit for. In some cases, fear was necessary, healthy even. So then, why couldn't he feel it? The fear of letting down the children, of not doing what was best for them at his expense?
Maybe, deep down, he only ever wanted to be good because that was what got him closer to what he truly wanted: attention.
Maybe he didn't want whatever it was he was lacking if it made him act in a way that wasn't true to himself. He ran away to find out who he truly was, not to find a way to become someone else controlled by something different.
But then that raises a question: who was he? Who did he want to be?
Jack let out another growl: he'd gone back full circle in his mind again and still had gotten nowhere! Was there something he was missing?!
''Would you knock it off with the snow?''
Jack quickly sat up, started by the sudden voice of the Boogeyman. Looking around, he realized that a good few inches of snow had been piling up, and that it was raining snowflakes from the tall ceilings. He had caused yet another storm without him knowing.
''Oops. Sorry.''
''This is the third time I've caught you doing this.'' The displeased man in black put his hands against his hips, ''I don't believe we agreed to have you move in and start bringing in your stuff.''
''I was just thinking.''
''My, whatever it is you're thinking about must be quite the conundrum if it's got you riled up like this.'' Pitch rolled his eyes, and Jack rolled right back as he descended from his perch.
''Believe me, I've got plenty more to think about when you're not around,'' he muttered bitterly beneath his breath. He took a few aimless steps before deciding to sit atop of Pitch's globe to watch the man work.
He crossed his legs, leaning his head against his palm and watched him attend to his duties in boredom. Speaking with a few nightmares, taking notes, looking over the lights, etc.
This has become a sort of ritual of theirs, a routine of Jack simply watching him do tasks and Pitch carrying along like he wasn't there. It distracted him from his thoughts. He did try bothering him at first, since being a pest was one of the only sources of entertainment in this place, but he quickly mellowed out when the scythe came out to play because of a simple prank.
Besides, he didn't feel like doing that right now. His mind started to wonder as Pitch looked over the lights in Panama. He never bothered to think about the logistics of Pitch's job, the nitty gritty of it.
Are there only sweet dreams with bitter realities? Tell me, is it true that they all end in tragedy?
''How'd it go out there?''
Pitch's hands paused in midair, his counting interrupted. He looked up at the frost boy in suspicion.
''...why do you ask?''
''I'm just curious.''
''You never seemed interested in the details of my work before.''
''Fine, don't tell me then! I was just making conversation.'' He used his hands to hover around and sit facing the opposite way, but Pitch would not let him sulk away like that.
''No, no, it's alright, I just didn't think you wanted to hear about my outings, that's all. What did you want to know?''
He started by asking if he was able to turn any dreams into nightmares tonight. A few thousand was his response. He then started asking questions about what kind of creatures he could conjure up, if he could control whether or not they would end up looking like a horse or a bear or a vague shadow monster.
''Why the sudden interest?'' Pitch interjected, ''You've been hanging around my lair for weeks. Why now?''
Jack shrugged, unwilling to give him a clear answer. And unsure if he even had an answer to give.
Is the end drawing near, or are we simply nearing the end?
''Has anything... changed, since I left?''
Pitch observed the way Jack's fingers traced the Arctic continent he was sitting on with his fingers, trying to pinpoint North's workshop probably.
''For humanity in general, not really. In relation to you... well, I can't say what they do during the day, but I see less children dreaming of snow.''
An unpleasant feeling wormed its way into his guts. Guilt probably.
Jack continued to watch as Pitch resumed his duties. In a sense, their situations were similar. Doomed to live in obscurity, forgotten, as less and less people believed in them every day.
They were both dying, slowly, on the inside and now on the outside too.
...
''I think we should consider a switch,''
Pitch wild look of shock told him that he had spoken out loud, and Jack was just as surprised as he was. It just slipped out. His shoulders tensed, and he quickly slid down the globe and onto its pedestal below.
''Gah- please, let's just forget this,'' he tried to walk away, but he felt a gentle but firm grip on his wrist holding him back.
''No, go on. What do you mean? I'm listening.''
''I shouldn't have said anything. I didn't mean it, it's a stupid idea.'' He refused to look at the man behind him.
''Jack, if you wish to accomplish whatever it is you came here to do, to seek the answers you thought you might find here, with me, you must see through this 'til the end.''
That gentle, rational tone of voice. The same one he heard in Antarctica. The one he almost listened to before. His arm went limp in his grasp.
''I can't read your mind Jack. I don't know what is troubling you so, but I can still sense you fears, and they are still the same.'' Pitch slowly came closer, letting go of his wrist but holding onto his gaze, ''You don't want to let the other Guardians down, you're afraid of what they'll think of you, of not being able to meet their standards.''
To disregard, discard all expectations, We live with hearts free of condemnation
''Let it go Jack, all of it. It's the only thing stopping you from the freedom you are looking for.''
His reassuring whispers shook Jack to the core. He was reading him like a book again, but he wasn't tormenting him like last time. Or maybe he was: echoing his doubts and worries back to him in order to distract him, to buy time. But then why would the Boogeyman encourage him to get over his fear? It didn't make sense.
He made a valid point. He was inclined to believe him and he didn't like it.
Blame me in the name of laziness, Loathing my actions instead of your own, To expect some sort of recompense?
''What would you have me do?'' Jack asked, indignant, taking a few cautious steps back, ''Go around spreading nightmares, preying on little kids and hiding under their beds like a creep?''
''It wouldn't hurt to follow me for one night, would it?'' Pitch offered, a small smirk in the corner of his lips, ''See what I do, how I operate. You would see that what I do is not immoral or unnecessarily cruel. That I am not as evil as the Guardians make me out to be. And who knows, maybe you'll want to try it out for yourself.''
''I could never do what you do!'' Pitch met his aggression with laughter.
''But you wouldn't have to! As much as I appreciate your curiosity, you do not have my powers. But I can give you command of my soldiers.'' He waved a hand at the numerous eyes lurking in the shadows behind him. ''They are the ones who frighten children, who spread fear into their hearts. You would not have to bear any responsibility for their actions. And besides, you have an unfair advantage.''
He stepped forward, closing the gap Jack had previously tried to place between them.
''You're the 'good guy'. If you tell the Guardians that I tricked you or forced you into working with me, they'll believe you.''
Jack lowered his head, looking at his feet. Ignoring sadistic tone in his voice, Pitch was right. He had a good enough alibi. He was in a fragile state of mind when he left, it would be easy to assume he could have been tricked. And if all he had to do was point at a house and the Nightmares would do the rest...
He imagined Tooth's heartbroken expression when she thought he had betrayed them.
''...I can't lie to my friends like that.''
''It's not lying if they never know.''
Pitch conjured a small stream of black sand between his fingers, just like he had moments earlier with his snowflake. He offered his open palm, encouraging Jack to touch his creation.
''Wouldn't it be nice, to live carefree once again, at least for a little while? To not have to check in with anyone, to live by your own rules? To not have to worry about anyone else's problems?''
The serpentine motion of the sand was mesmerizing. Jack couldn't keep his eyes off of it. He lifted his hand almost subconsciously.
''Isn't that what you're doing right now?''
Those eerily familiar words broke him out of whatever trance he was in. He retracted his hand like he had touched a hot stove.
''No. No, I'm not falling for your tricks again! You just want me to be on your side. You want me to be just like you, but I'm not!
Pitch frowned. He lowered his hand, offended:
''Like me?''
''I don't want to be someone who thinks he's above consequences.''
''Above consequences?!'' He shouted, losing his composure in the blink of an eye, ''Says the child who shirks any form of responsibility the minute it was placed on his shoulders!''
The boy jumped back, sensing a battle coming, and reached for his staff that he had left on his perch. Pitch conjured up his scythe and the two circled around each other. Jack had his weapon aimed at his head, and Pitch held his blade behind him, ready to strike.
''I know why you came here, what you came looking for. You peered into the darkness but flinched away when you saw it looking back at you!''
Jack threw a few ice projectiles at him, but he dodged and blocked them expertly, not even bothered by them. Pitch made his way closer to him, standing tall.
''You are a coward. Does it make you feel better, comparing yourself to me? Looking down on me, thinking 'at least I'm not as bad as him'! Well, I've got news for you: you are just as broken and twisted as I am.''
''Shut up! You're wrong!'' He threatened him with his staff, now mere inches from his face, but he did not shoot.
''What did you expect would happen upon your return Jack? A celebration? A congratulation for having the moral high ground? Did you expect some sort of reward or pat on the back for being a better person than the Boogeyman of all people?''
''I said SHUT UP!'' His staff glowed a bright blue, almost a glacial hue; all of his anger unleashed into one attack, one which Pitch was barely able to block with a shield of black sand.
Tough luck, I guess it's time to forgo, all the memories, no, all the opportunities that God blessed me to miss
Jack looked on in horror as the powdered snow settled around him.
''Now, doesn't it feel good to get it all out of your system.''
A large spiky monument now stood between them. Almost identical to the one in Antarctica. Pitch slinked around it, admiring their creation and gliding his hand across its surface.
''Cold and Dark, together once again...''
''No...'' Jack stumbled back, trying to warp his head around what just happened, ''Not again...''
''You may think you are my enemy, but I am not yours. I am not the one who put you in this predicament. I am not the one who robbed you of your memories, who took you from your family.''
Jack could sense that he was now right in front of him, but his eyes were on the floor once again, unfocused and lost.
''The Man in the Moon gave us new life and expects us to be grateful for such a 'blessing'. But because of him, we will never know the joys of a simple, mortal life. We will never grow or learn or truly live.''
When a moment is a lack of passion, We forgo a lie of deception, To realize the truth was found in the ashes, Of standing up, to the 'feat of depression
''But... I have a family.''
Pitch frowned, taken aback from his unexpected response.
''I have my friends. People who care about what happens to me.''
Looking up, he could see that Pitch was trying the same old tactics he used before; he was only saying these things in an attempt to make him hate the others. He could tell by the way he used 'we', how he was trying to gain his sympathy. He didn't mean a thing. He lacked the integrity, the passion in his voice.
''I honestly don't know what else I expected from you. I should have known you wouldn't help me for no reason. You're only 'helping me' so I can be of use to you someday. You're only in it for yourself. But then again, so am I.''
He sidestepped the man, calmly making his way towards one of the exits. Pitch did nothing to stop him.
Even if there was some truth to his words, the intention behind them was not worth listening to. Still, he wondered who he was before he became the embodiment of fear. What was taken from him when Manny gave him a second chance to make him so hateful?
Maybe the truth was that they were similar in many ways. But ultimately, that was okay. He can live with that knowledge because, no matter how much they were the same, they weren't identical.
'I'm still me.' he thought, as he flew up into one of the tunnels in the dirt ceiling.
''Thanks for letting me stay,'' was all he left Pitch with as he flew off into the morning sky.
Memories are but bounded to the earth, the dawn's soul corrodes into a solace, a misstep of spiritual rebirth,
As he watched the morning sun rise from the horizon, Jack took a deep breath. The sun made its way into the sky, and the more it illuminated the world, the more comfort it brought to him after so much time spent in the dark.
His thoughts once again wondered, this time to a memory of his sister. He remembered how, back then, he had always tried to make her laugh because it made him happy to see her happy. Perhaps some people could see that as selfish, but maybe being selfish wasn't always a bad thing.
And when he pulled her out of the lake, putting himself on thin ice, he did it solely for her. That definitive moment that changed everything, that proved that he was a Guardian. It defined him as a person.
He felt reborn, just like that night under the moon. He was right in the end: he had to fall in order to get back up, just like in Antarctica. It's ironic that it was Pitch who once again unknowingly brought him the answers he sought by trying to rally him to his side.
With his confidence regained, he headed straight for the North Pole. He had been underground for way too long and he had a lot explaining to do.
He took the time to look back at the hole he just came out of, as if Pitch could still see him at a distance, and smirked, as if challenging the Boogeyman to try is best next time they meet.
Go and choke the wind from us
