Good gravy this thing is long. So, dying with exams, but I managed to get this one out! (Sorry, technically it's not last week anymore ^^;) I hope I didn't horribly butcher your baby, Guardian of Loyalty! Also, I'm taking a lot of privileges here, so bear with me... book references and stuff I just made up... roll with it?
Oh, and this is kinda an AU - a movie deviation. You should be able to pick which scene pretty easily.
Anywho, it's now almost 2am so I'm going to bed.
...
The Corrupted
...
"It's over Pitch," Jack said coldly, holding his staff out before him as he and the Guardians closed in on their cornered enemy. "There's no place to hide."
Pitch smirked at the advancing cluster of do-gooders. Their stupidity was almost painful. No place to hide? There was always a place to hide; especially when the alley they stood in was practically draped with shadows. Without even a remark in retaliation to the winter spirit's taunt, Pitch slipped into one of the many patches of darkness, blending in so perfectly that he was completely invisible.
The Guardians were instantly on the defensive, turning slowly on the spot as they watched multiple silhouettes of the Nightmare King dance across the walls around them, trying in vain to figure out where next he would appear. It was futile, as they all knew; Pitch was as unpredictable as the Man in the Moon himself.
In their searching they turned their backs on the place he'd been. Which, of course, made it the perfect place for him to reappear. In one fluid movement he was back in solid form and a scythe of nightmares and pure fear appeared in his hands. With a single swing it arched silently through the night air, point aimed directly for the biggest metaphorical thorn in his side.
"Jack, look out!" Bunnymund cried, the first to turn back and spot the Boogieman.
Jack spun around at the shout, eyes widening as he registered the wicked blade coming straight for him. There was no way he could move out of the way in time, nor could he lift his staff in defence. Jack knew this, Bunny knew this, the other two, realising the danger, knew this. And, most importantly, Pitch knew this. And he revelled in it.
Blade pierced flesh and an agonised scream of pain shattered the silence almost as quickly as it had fallen. The scythe dissolved in a puff of inky black sand and liquid shadow, descending over the boy's body and into the wound as though it had a mind of its own. Jack was on his knees in a heartbeat, a hand gripping tersely at the freely bleeding wound in his chest as a combination of blood and darkness dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Slowly, painfully slowly, the shadows started to creep across his clothes, his skin, his hair, and everything it touched was rendered the same endless black. His skin turned a deathly grey, unnatural even for his pale complexion. Even his eyes, once such a vibrant blue, were reduced to bottomless pits of nothingness.
It was over in seconds. The boy's cries broke off abruptly and the tension slipped from his terse muscles, leaving him slumped and kneeling in the middle of the alleyway.
Pitch laughed in sadistic pleasure at both the state of the once defiant winter spirit and the expressions of horror on the faces of the so-called Guardians.
"Jack!" Tooth's voice was strained as she reached a hand towards him, as though to grab him, but she faltered, frozen in place like her allies.
Jack didn't reply, didn't so much as twitch at the call of his name. The fairy, face slack with horror and her eyes wet, glanced over at the Pooka. This was not the first time he'd borne witness to something like this, she knew.
"How?!" North demanded, voicing the question they were all thinking. "The Fearlings were all destroyed!"
"Did you honestly think you could kill fear?" Pitch sneered. "I'll admit Jack Frost was hardly my first choice, but he has proven himself to be a valuable asset; when he's fighting on the right side, of course."
"Change him back!" Tooth ordered, her voice of steely anger that contradicted the deep resounding sorrow reflected in her eyes.
"Or what?"
Pitch narrowly avoided the boomerang suddenly flung his way, disappearing into the shadows only to re-emerge a few paces away. Bunny was the epitome of rage as he caught the projectile.
"Change him back!" he seethed, launching the piece of wood once again.
It barely made it halfway to its target before it was caught mid-air by a small, lifeless hand. Jack, now on his feet, watched expressionlessly as frost coated the polished surface.
"Aw, did I strike a nerve?" Pitch asked mockingly. "You really are pathetic. You couldn't save those giant hairballs and you couldn't save Jack Frost."
Bunny practically writhed at the offhanded blow. "Listen here you bloody–"
"Now Jack," Pitch continued, completely ignoring the rabbit. Jack's slack gaze turned in his direction. "I want you to show them exactly why they should never have gotten in my way."
The boomerang clattered to the ground as Jack released his grip, opting instead to place both hands on his still frost-covered staff. Without word or warning he suddenly launched himself at the Guardians.
"You dare call yourselves Guardians," Pitch continued in the background with a sinister Cheshire grin as Bunny leapt out of the way of a frigid ice blast, "protectors of children, and yet here you are, unable to even save one. Where were you for those three hundred years of his existence? Where were you when Jack Frost, an immortal child, needed you the most?"
North blocked the uppercut Jack sent his way with the blunt edge of his sword, but couldn't bring himself to follow through with a blow of his own. The being before him may have been a Fearling, but more importantly it was also Jack; a boy he hadn't spent much thought on before a few days ago, but who now was a precious member of his 'family', even if he hadn't been officially incorporated into the Guardians yet. And as such, he couldn't bear to hurt him, Fearling or not; especially when there was still a chance they could save him. There had to be a chance. North wasn't going to accept no for an answer; both he and the others had a lot to make up for – three hundred years, in fact – and they couldn't do that if Jack was lost to them.
"Oh, that's right," Pitch mused. "You were hidden away, so focused on protecting the children of the world that you neglected to notice the one right under your nose."
North ground his teeth, trying not to let the truth of Pitch's words distract him from the matter at hand. Because whether he liked it or not the shadow man was right. Jack had said himself that he'd tried to 'bust into' the Workshop multiple times. How many chances to get to know the boy had he missed out on? How much had his careless disregard for the younger spirit made Jack suffer?
"He was a child, too, Jack Frost. A child who died doing your job. And yet you still abandoned him like he was worthless. In fact, if it wasn't for me, he would still be alone and forgotten; not just by you, sworn by oath to protect him, but also the very Man in the Moon who forced this life on him in the first place."
Tooth bit back a sob that struggled to force its way from her throat at the words. She hadn't known Jack had died, though she didn't doubt the truth of it – Pitch had a nasty knack for learning such things – nor did she know he'd been ignorant of the memories of his past. But that didn't matter, in the end, did it? Because Pitch was right; they'd abandoned him, left him to fend for himself when he was still very much one of the children they'd devoted their lives to protecting. And they'd failed him. But no. She was going to make up for it. They were going to make up for it. Even if it took the rest of eternity to do so.
I'm not giving up on you, she silently vowed, even as she ducked under the swing of Jack's staff. She was in the prime position to deliver a swift kick to his solar plexus but didn't. She couldn't hurt the boy she'd grown so fond of; Fearling or not.
"You failed Jack Frost," Pitch spat in disgust, as though he was genuinely angry on Jack's behalf. "You've failed him for three hundred years and you've failed him now. You failed a child! And now," his voice grew soft, as if he were placating a crying child and not condemning the three remaining Guardians, "that failure will be your downfall."
Bunny swiftly ducked down and blocked what would have been a very painful blow to the head before using his superior strength to push Jack out of range. The boy – or what was left of him – staggered a few steps before righting himself and charging again.
A few days ago, when the whole Easter disaster had started, he had hated Jack Frost with a passion that was unbecoming of a Guardian of Childhood, and he sure as hell hadn't found it difficult to let the brat know it. But now, after having seen a side to the kid (and the acknowledgement that he was a kid just made his actions seem so much worse – three hundred years old or not) he hadn't known was there, well, it was plain to see there was more to Jack Frost than what met the eye. Sure, he was stubborn, annoying, had absolutely no respect for authority, and was just an all-round brat, but under that was someone who deeply cared for children, who would protect them at all costs. And anyone who cared that much about the ankle-biters of the world deserved a chance, at least. Jack Frost deserved a chance; a chance Bunny had been too prideful to give him. And he would get that chance if it was the last thing Bunny ever did. He refused to lose anyone to the Fearlings ever again; bloody pain in the neck or not. He had to have hope that they could find a way to save the winter spirit. And, being the Guardian of Hope, it was certainly the very least he could do.
The last Pooka shifted his weight in preparation to take the next attack coming his way. But the blow never came. They all watched in shock as Jack suddenly stumbled, his teeth gritted together in what appeared to be pain. Even Pitch, who had been watching with nothing short of excitement, had stopped laughing and was frowning at the scene.
"Fight it, Jack!" North bellowed in something akin to pride.
Bunny's eyes widened as he glanced from North back to Jack. It did look like he was fighting the Fearling's influence. Maybe he could be saved after all!
Pitch's responding laugh, the laugh of a man completely sure of himself, sent Bunny's heart plummeting.
"Don't you see?" the Nightmare King cried in glee. "He can't! What precious happy memories could he possibly have from three hundred years of isolation, abandonment, and invisibility that are strong enough to fight the influence of pure fear?"
Tooth's stern façade crumbled at the words – memories were her forte. She could have helped him. She could have spared him so much pain! The first tears slipped unbidden from her overflowing eyes and she swiped them furiously with the back of her hand. It wouldn't do for the Queen of the Tooth Fairy Armies to weep before the likes of Pitch Black.
"I know you are strong enough," North encouraged, deliberately ignoring Pitch's taunts. "Fight it, Jack!"
Jack clutched at his head as the shadows creeping across his body writhed. To anyone who looked it appeared the Fearling was losing the battle of wills. Even Pitch's self-assured smirk had slipped and the three Guardians took courage from it.
"Such a shame," Pitch suddenly sighed. "I had hoped you would have been the perfect Fearling Prince. But I suppose I should have expected as much, what with you being quite literally a spirit. Do be sure to destroy the three of them before you destroy yourself, Jack."
"What're ya talkin' about?!" Bunny demanded, pointing his boomerang at Pitch even as he shot a quick look at Jack.
Pitch looked him over with bored contempt. "Exactly what I said, rabbit."
Tooth cried out as ice struck her in the chest, sending her sailing through the air only to crash heavily to the concrete some hundred metres or so away. Jack barely batted an eye at what he'd done before moving on to face North, easily knocking one of the two sabres from the large man's hands when the latter refused to fight back.
Bunny's eyes widened in realisation as he watched the way Jack moved – stiffly and painfully – and the way the shadows consuming him flickered, smothering him all the more and yet without the complete effect he knew them to have. He knew all too well the way Fearlings worked, devouring the soul and inhabiting the body that remained, and it was nothing like this. He was missing something.
Pitch's words echoed in his mind and a pit of dread settled in his stomach. Jack had died. He wasn't just a spirit in the supernatural sense of the word, but also in the literal sense. He was a soul. And for him to be taken over by something as destructive as a Fearling… well, when the job was done there wasn't going to be anything left for the Fearling to inhabit. It would die. But so would Jack. Again. And this time not even the Man in the Moon could save him.
"No!" Bunny snapped. "There has to be a way to fix this! Turn 'im back!"
"Now why would I want to do that?" Pitch asked, a humorous glint in his golden eyes. "I–"
Whatever he'd been about to say was cut off as a string of golden sand shot out from beyond the back wall and wrapped itself firmly around his torso, flinging him up into the air and away like a fly caught on the tongue of a frog. Bunny stared for a moment, slowly trying to process what had happened before, leaving North and Tooth alone with Jack, he raced in the direction the Boogieman had gone. He may have not wanted to admit it, but he knew Pitch was right; Jack would not be able to fight the Fearling off completely. Not on his own, at least.
The sight he found when he turned the corner was like a light in the dark (literally, actually). Sanderson Mansnoozie floated before him, looking rather pleased with himself as he surveyed Pitch, unconscious in the snow, dreaming of butterflies.
"Mate, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Bunny sighed in relief.
Sandy smiled at him, a smile the Pooka had feared he'd never see again.
…Speaking of smiles he'd never see again, "Please tell me you know how to get rid of a Fearling."
Sandy looked shocked at the request and a dozen or so images flashed above him so quickly Bunny almost didn't catch what the small man was trying to say.
"It's Jack, he–"
A map and a question mark followed with a great sense of urgency.
"Back there," Bunny pointed, "in that alleyway."
The words were barely out of his mouth before Sandy was hurrying in the direction he'd indicated. Bunny quickly took up the rear, catching up easily.
Things were, unsurprisingly, not very different from when he'd left. Tooth had gotten back up and she and North were trying to fight off Jack – who was looking weaker than before – without actually hurting him. Without a word of greeting, Sandy wrapped Jack in a stream of sand, much like he had with Pitch, and pulled him out of the fight.
Jack struggled against the bonds, trying in vain to free himself. Sandy looked him over with a great deal of sadness.
"Sandy!" North breathed in joy. Tooth likewise looked relieved.
"Can you help him?" she asked, glancing uncertainly at Jack.
Sandy followed her gaze and bit his lip. He'd never known of anyone who'd overcome Fearling possession; it was literally like trying to overcome pure fear, and it was clear that Jack didn't have enough happy memories strong enough to win the fight. But maybe if he gave the boy a helping hand with his dream sand… it was worth a shot, right? All he had to do was flush out the Fearling and destroy it. How hard could it be?
Very hard, his mind whispered, and he forcefully shoved that voice aside.
Instead of answering his friends who were still awaiting a reply, Sandy set his plan into action, sending a significant amount of dream sand raining down over Jack's head. The boy instantly slumped under the pull of sleep, a glittering golden boy and girl skating joyfully across the surface of a frozen pond. The image lasted for all of two seconds before black began to overcome the gold, turning it into a nightmare. Sandy quickly increased the amount of dream sand, but as soon as he cut off the stream the same thing happened.
"It's not working," Tooth noted, sounding distraught. "Is it because of belief?!"
Belief! That was it! Sandy temporarily abandoned his attempts and focused on sending good dreams out as far and wide as he possibly could, ignoring the questions and protests of his friends. If he could increase the amount of belief in both himself and the Guardians, it should increase his abilities and maybe then he could help the younger spirit.
It didn't take long – already he could feel his strength returning. Content in the surety that the dreams would continue to spread unaided, Sandy returned his attention to the nightmare playing out above Jack's head. Focusing as much positive energy into his powers as he could, Sandy sent yet another flood of dream sand to Jack, but this time he didn't cut the connection, instead keeping it flowing.
Despite the pleasant dreams, Jack's whole body shuddered under the Sandman's magic. The shadows cloaking him rippled and writhed, trying to fight the dream sand that had invaded their host. The golden dream flickered with darkness and Sandy fought back, pinning his positive magic against the darkness and fear of the Fearling.
"Is it workin'?" Bunny asked.
It was a complicated question to answer, but the Sandman tried to make himself understood nonetheless. It was working, but it was going to take much longer than he'd like; the Fearling was stronger than Jack, but in the long run he thought his dream sand would give the winter spirit enough of a push to overcome it. It was just going to take time.
"Then we take him back to Pole," North said. "Make him comfortable, yes?"
"What about Pitch?" Tooth frowned.
"He's knocked out around the corner," Bunny informed her.
"I will have yetis grab him and make sure children get home safe," North decided, reaching into his coat and pulling out a snow globe. "Go on ahead, I will meet you back at Workshop."
"Are you sure?" Tooth wrung her hands together.
"Take care of Jack," the Cossack said in way of parting, heading out of the alleyway and disappearing around the corner.
"Let's get goin' then," Bunny said, holding up the snow globe. "North's Workshop."
As the snow globe smashed against the concrete ground a large swirling portal opened up. The Pooka carefully lifted Jack and, side by side with the Sandman, entered the portal, the Tooth Fairy taking up the rear.
...
...
It had been two straight days since they'd taken Jack back to the North Pole and in that time Sandy had not slept once, instead diligently sitting by the bed where Jack Frost lay and keeping up a constant flow of dream sand to help try to combat the Fearling before it could completely corrupt and/or destroy the winter spirit beyond redemption.
Sandy supposed it was a good thing he didn't really need to sleep (that didn't mean he didn't enjoy it, though), but he was definitely starting to feel the toll of such a constant focus and use of his powers. At least when he was travelling around the world delivering dreams to children he could nod off and let the sand do its work unaided, but in this situation, the moment he stopped concentrating the Fearling started gaining the upper hand.
Over the last half day or so, however, it was starting to look like they were nearing the end. The shadows that had seemed to consume Jack's body had receded somewhat, and his skin was no longer as grey as it had been, but the pale complexion he was so used to seeing on the boy. It was still deathly, but a healthier deathly. …For Jack, at least. On anyone else the pigment would have been rather concerning.
Jack's face contorted in a slight grimace, prompting Sandy to increase his powers for the umpteenth time. He was almost there. The Fearling was weak. All they really needed was for Jack to fight back. Sandy had done all that he could do in keeping the Fearling at bay and providing the winter spirit with something happy to focus on, but in the end all the hard work was down to Jack. He mentally encouraged the boy as once again he shifted the dream into something else before it could be corrupted by fear.
A surge of guilt washed over him as he watched the boy, kept unconscious by his magic. Jack didn't have many happy memories, and Sandy couldn't help but wonder if he could have helped change that had he known the winter spirit wasn't as carefree as he liked to appear. How different would things have been if he'd taken the time out from his busy schedule to interact with the boy beyond a passing wave? What if he'd struck up a conversation? Sparked a friendship? Maybe then much of Easter's events wouldn't have happened.
The fact was that, while it was up to Jack to finish the job of overcoming the fear that plagued him, Sandy wasn't sure that he could, or even that he'd want to. He didn't think Jack to be the type to just give up, but over the whole time he'd been working Jack had never once shown sign that he was fighting back. He didn't want to admit it, but he was scared.
...
...
Jack was dreaming.
At least, he was pretty sure he was dreaming. It certainly felt like a dream. The fear, though, that coursed through him every now and again gave him doubt. That certainly felt real.
At that very moment he was flying on the wind over cities and towns, over forests and oceans, exulting in the exhilaration of it all. It was pure, unadulterated joy. He was completely free, unbound by responsibility or care. Free from worries or fears, free from what ifs and whys. It was a perfect moment.
But then he felt that sudden jolt of fear and suddenly he was falling, the wind having died underneath him. He landed on a sidewalk in a bustling city, forced to dodge and weave between the busy people going about their day lest one of them walk through him like they had so often before. No one could see him, he remembered. Flying may have given him a temporary reprieve, but he did still have worries and fears. And he definitely had whys. There was no moon in the overcast sky to turn his questions to, not that he ever got a reply when he did, and so he instead focused on the wind, silently beckoning it to take him away.
Terror gripped him when he realised it didn't reply. He couldn't fly!
"Wind!" he called, but no sound escaped his throat. Distracted by the unexpected set-back, he wasn't prepared for the wave of people that passed through him like he wasn't even there.
"You're invisible, mate. It's like you don't even exist," Bunny's voice echoed in his head.
No. No, he gasped. This couldn't be happening. Was he ceasing to exist? Had he lost even the small comfort of his powers? In a surge of hope he tried to send a spiral of ice across the pavement beneath his feet with the tip of his staff, but to his utter horror nothing happened. Even the ice that had adorned his staff was missing, making the stick look exactly that; old and feeble, like it could be snapped as easily as Pitch already had done.
But then, like so many times before, everything shifted. Suddenly he found himself standing on a vast surface of ice, a pair of hand-made ice skates adorning his feet. The beautiful sound of a girl's laughter caught his attention and he looked up sharply as his sister skated by, unsteady but enjoying herself nonetheless.
"Jack!" she called out to him. "Skate with me, Jack!"
Jack felt a grin stretch across his face as he obeyed, chasing after her with all the grace he had acquired in his three hundred year existence. Together they went around and around, each trying to outmatch the other, neither bothered by the cold biting at their exposed faces and hands.
This was the way that day should have gone so long ago. Full of joy and fun. But then, of course, the moment had to be ruined. He really should have seen it coming.
A loud crack permeated the air, cutting the laughter short in a heartbeat. There was no time for confessions or reassurances. One second the ice was solid, the next there was a gaping hole and his sister was gone.
"No!" he cried, making to fling himself toward the gap, fully intending to dive down after her. But he couldn't move. Couldn't speak. All he could do was watch as the cracks in the ice started sealing over, the hole diminishing the more time passed until it was like it had never broken in the first place. His heart raced in his chest and tears sprung in his eyes. "It should have been me!" he wanted to cry. He wanted to scream, to shout at the passive moon somewhere way above. He wanted someone – something – to blame. But there was only himself.
"It should have been you."
Jack spun, belatedly realising he could move again. What he saw made him freeze again. There was a boy standing on the ice, barefoot and dressed only in a blue hoodie and threadbare pants. His white hair blended in perfectly with the surrounding snow and ice.
"You're… me?" he found himself asking.
"You should have saved her," the boy that was him but wasn't said, not answering the question.
"No, no," Jack babbled. "It… it was me." It had been him. This wasn't real. It was just a dream. It wasn't real. It wasn't real.
"It was you who fell through the ice, yes," the other Jack agreed, taking a few steps forward. With each one his appearance slowly changed until he looked exactly as Jack remembered he had before he'd died. "But you didn't save her."
"I… I don't…"
"Understand? Shall I spell it out for you then?"
Jack said nothing.
"You may have saved her from dying, but you seem to have forgotten that she had to watch you die. She had to live out the rest of her life with that memory, knowing that you sacrificed yourself for her and that it was her fault."
"No!"
"No? Who was the one that wanted to go skating even though it was too early in the season and the ice was too thin? Who was the one who didn't wait until you'd checked before racing off? It was her!"
"No! It wasn't her fault!"
"And of course you had to be the perfect hero, her knight in shining armour. But what did that bring? A meaningless sacrifice that left her blaming herself for the rest of her miserable life. She idolised you! And you just left her."
Jack shook his head, fighting against the tears burning in his eyes. It was a lie, they were all lies. They had to be. He couldn't afford to let himself believe that she had suffered because of him. He had saved her! He couldn't stand the thought that his act of good will had condemned her.
"But you don't need her," the other him was saying, his voice going from harsh to comforting even as his appearance changed again to monochrome. "You didn't need her for three hundred years and you don't need her now." He continued forward again, hand outstretched in beckoning. "Just us. Who else stood by you for all those years than me and the wind? You've never needed anyone else. Come with me, it's time to stop fighting. It's time to rest now. It doesn't have to hurt anymore."
He was sorely tempted to accept the offer.
"You don't have to worry, everything will be okay. No more pain, no more loneliness. Come, Jack."
Oh how he wished he could. How many times over his three hundred years had he wished for it all to just go away? How many times had he wanted the pain of being alone and invisible to end? Unbidden, his hand reached out for the other Jack's.
"That's it," the other him smiled. "No more fear. I believe in you."
The words sparked something in him and he froze. No, fear wasn't something that could be erased, wasn't something that should be erased. And these promises were too sweet, too good to be true. He had to remind himself that it wasn't real. It was nothing more than a dream.
"No," he said, finding his voice.
The other Jack's expression fell to a carefully blank slate, but his hand remained in the air. "No?"
"No. I don't have time to rest. I'm a Guardian, and I have a job to do. I don't have time to wallow in self-pity. And I'm not alone." Not anymore.
Not-him snarled, and without warning suddenly struck out with his own shadowy replica of his staff. Jack brought his own up to block the blow, surprised to find it in his hand where it always was when he was sure it hadn't been there a moment ago.
"A poor decision," the thing that wasn't him hissed. "You should have accepted the offer; things would have been… less painful for you."
"I'm not afraid of you," Jack declared, swinging at it with his staff, feeling the pleasant thrum of power through the aged wood as frost patterns burst to life along its length. And since when did he let other people tell him what to do, anyway?
Feeling suddenly revitalised, Jack channelled his powers through his staff, sending a blast of ice towards the thing. It managed to dodge out of the way, charging forward with reckless abandon. Jack wasn't prepared for such an action and faltered, giving it enough time to grab his forearm. Inky shadows shot across the appendage, creeping up his arm and starting to spread to the rest of him. He struggled to pull away but the thing's grip was like a vice. Fear swelled in his chest and the thing grinned victoriously.
In a last-ditch effort, Jack formed a snowball in his free hand and slapped it into the twisted version's face. The copy staggered backwards with an angry cry and it was enough for Jack to pull himself free and place some distance between them.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
The creature wiped the excess snow from its face, laughing cruelly all the while. "I'm you!" it sneered. "I'm your fear. I am the part of you that you don't want to face. And I am what will destroy you."
Fear. His fear. What was he afraid of?
Jack lowered his staff.
"No," he told it gently. "If you're my fear then you won't destroy me."
"Oh?"
"I'm not afraid anymore. I'm not invisible anymore and I know who I was – I know the truth. I have people who care about me now, and I know that the people who cared back then," he cast a sad glance to the spot where the ice had cracked, "wouldn't want me to wallow in self-pity or doubts. Just as I know they would have moved on with their lives, it's time I moved on with mine. I'm not afraid anymore."
"Everyone's afraid of something," his fear snapped, sounding more desperate than angry.
"And part of life is overcoming those fears," he said.
"So you intend to leave me behind?" it questioned, a combination of betrayal and defiance.
"No, I intend to take you with me," he held out his hand much in the same manner as the other him had done before. "But I won't let you weigh me down anymore. Come on, we're Fun, we don't have time to worry about every little thing when there are people – kids – out there who need us. So let's stop worrying about ifs and buts and have it."
...
...
Sandy jolted as the fear that had settled over Jack suddenly sprang upwards like some great cloud, slowly forming into the basic shape of a person. Fearling. On the bed, Jack's eyes flew open and widened as they landed on the shadowy form of the Fearling, but Sandy didn't have time to worry about that.
With renewed vigour, he wrapped the writhing, furious Fearling in dream sand and pulled it close, looking deep into the hollows it called eyes. Moonlight filtered in through the window.
You are not real. You are not true. You are nothing.
With an overload of good dreams and pure moonlight the Fearling screamed, dissipating into nothingness.
Sandy took a moment to let it all sink in before he turned excitedly to Jack, who stared at him, clearly overwhelmed.
"Sandy," the boy breathed in relief and confusion before his gaze travelled back to where the Fearling had been. "…What did I miss? Where's Pitch?!"
Sandy laughed in his silent way, floating over to Jack and pulling him into a short embrace, conveying to him that they had Pitch securely in their custody until they could figure out what to do with him.
"I'm glad you're okay."
He did his best to let Jack know the sentiment was mutual.
"Oi, I heard screaming! What's goin' on in here?!"
Both spirits looked up as the door burst open, revealing a flustered Bunny flanked by Tooth and North. The fierce expressions on their faces vanished as they spotted Jack – awake and upright – sitting up in bed with Sandy grinning widely beside him.
"Jack!" was the only warning either of the two received before they charged over, North and Tooth pulling Jack into a bone-crushing hug.
"Uh, guys, I can't breathe," Jack managed.
"Oops, sorry," they pulled away, both smiling sheepishly.
"How ya feelin', Frostbite?" Bunny asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the bedpost.
"Tired, actually," Jack admitted, ignoring the nickname for now. He could ponder on it later. He glanced over at Sandy. "And a little out of the loop. What happened?"
"You were possessed by Fearling," North explained when Bunny looked away to glare at the ground.
"Fearling?"
"They're like an embodiment of fear," Tooth told him sadly. "A long time ago Pitch used them to corrupt and kill a lot of people. We'd thought they'd all been destroyed…"
"But apparently not," Jack finished for her. Well, that explained the weird dreams, he supposed. "And it's gone now?"
Sandy nodded, creating a live-action replay with his sand.
"Ha! I knew you were strong enough!" North beamed with pride. "You have very special centre, after all, no?"
Jack found the man's enthusiasm contagious. "I figured it out, if that's what you mean." He paused, recalling the last of the dreams. "And I came to terms with something."
"Are you ready to make it official? Being Guardian, I mean."
"And when you're feeling better we're going to make heaps of happy memories so nothing like this ever happens again!" Tooth said enthusiastically. "I'm sorry we weren't there for you, Jack. But I promise we'll make it up to you. Whether you become a Guardian or not, you're one of us. Now and forever more."
"I think I'd like that," Jack smiled.
"Excellent!" North barked. "Then while you rest, we will begin preparations for big party! Come!" he ushered the others towards the door. All but Bunny followed him out.
Jack watched the Pooka for a time before the silence started getting to him. "Everything alright there, Cottontail?"
"I'm sorry."
"…What?"
"I said I'm sorry," Bunny repeated, meeting his eye. "I misjudged you. You're not as much of a brat as I'd thought, and you do care about the kids. And I'm sorry for all those things I said. They weren't true. Any of 'em."
"Yeah, well, I was wrong about you, too," Jack smirked. "Don't get me wrong, you're still grumpy and annoying, but you're not half-bad, I suppose."
Bunny looked like he had more than a few things to say in retaliation but held his tongue. "I'm glad you're alright, Frostbite," he said finally, pausing only to ruffle the kid's hair as he made his way towards the door. "But don't think this means I like ya," he added hastily.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Guest Review Responses:
dolphin: Yes! Ugh! I just want to curl up and die, to be honest.