I am so sorry this was so long in the making. It's actually not the request it was supposed to be, but the one at the top of my list I just physically couldn't write without help. I sent a message to the requestee a while back, which I presume you haven't received, but if you do find it and get back to me, I'll definitely be willing to have another go.
So this is a combined request from Shinku and SonYukiGoku'sSister. I hope you enjoy it ^w^ (I feel like Pitch is a bit OOC in this but I give up)
IMPORTANT: Just a reminder that requests are still closed. I will let you know when the list (which found itself growing these past holidays (with fantastic ideas, no less)) dwindles enough that you will no longer have to wait a million years for your request to be written ^^;
Disclaimed.
...
Kindred Spirits
...
Jack stared at the tin of cream-coloured goop on the counter before him. If asked right at that moment, he could confidently say that he had not thought this through. But he couldn't quit now, not when it had taken so very, very long to get this far. And at quite a cost, he realised, glancing around the kitchen. There was more cake batter on the walls and floor than there was in the bowl. And don't even get him started on the elves he'd recruited to help him (a poor decision if ever there was one. At least they'd managed to keep the yetis away).
But now it all came down to one crucial moment – the last instruction in the recipe book – and he couldn't do it. Nor would he trust his 'helpers' to do the deed, either.
Jack's shoulders sagged as he let out a groan of frustration. Of all things, he was going to be defeated by an oven. He needed help.
"Hey," he called out to the elves, who instantly stood to eager attention. "I need one of you to go find a yeti."
From the looks on their faces, he couldn't say with certainty if they'd understood his directions (having told them earlier to keep them away certainly wouldn't have helped matters), but several of them hurried off with an air of great importance and dedication nonetheless. He could have gone himself, but he didn't trust the elves enough to leave them alone with the batter.
One might take a moment to wonder why on Earth a winter spirit was trying to bake a cake, and the answer to that would be a bad pun. It was a half-baked attempt to butter up Pitch so he wouldn't try to kill him when he went and invited himself over later.
Hey, it had worked last time… kinda.
This, of course, might lead one to further questions which will temporarily be ignored.
Jack was mildly surprised when a yeti meandered in a few minutes later; he hadn't truly expected much in the way of results. The yeti seemed confused, eyes roaming from the 'decorated' kitchen to Jack and his tin of batter.
"I, um, was wondering if you could put this in the oven for me," Jack said awkwardly, holding out the tin as he gestured to the large oven at the back of the room. "It's too hot for me to get close."
The yeti acquiesced, taking the tin over to the oven, saying something with a lilt to its voice as it went. Jack, who was picking up some of the language, knew immediately what it was asking (not that it was difficult to figure out, given the circumstances).
"I know I could have just used a Christmas cake," he agreed, "but I don't think it would have gone over very well with the recipient."
The yeti paused, turning to face him questioningly.
"Let's just say the person I'm making this for doesn't really like Christmas."
The yeti crossed its arms and gave him the look. Jack was momentarily flabbergasted. He'd thought only moms and Jamie were capable of that look.
"…I don't want to say," he mumbled at length. Because really, telling one of Santa's helpers that he was baking a cake for the Boogieman wouldn't have gone down well. If it was believed at all. It did sound pretty absurd when he thought about it like that.
The look intensified. Jack cringed.
"Alright, alright!" he caved. "It's for Pitch."
...
...
"Gah! Hey! Let me go!" Jack cried as he was bodily hauled down hallway after hallway by a yeti gripping his hoodie.
The yeti didn't release him, not that he'd expected it to, really.
"Come on! I can explain!"
"Explain what?"
Cold dread seized him (pun not intended) at the familiar voice. Crap, he mentally cursed. "Uh, hey, North," he said aloud as he was unceremoniously dumped in front of the large holiday icon.
The yeti started rambling and gesturing wildly. Jack couldn't understand the words but he had a fairly good idea of what it was saying. He hunched his shoulders in preparation for what was to come.
"What do you mean he was baking cake for Pitch?" North asked, sounding like he didn't believe a word he was saying.
The yeti said something else and North's heavy gaze fell on the winter spirit who suddenly felt very exposed.
"Why were you baking cake for Pitch?" he sounded more confused and concerned than anything.
"Um…" Jack didn't know what to say. He really wasn't sure how the others would react if he told them what he'd been attempting to do. Would North forbid him from going? It wouldn't stop him, but it would make him feel bad about it – he didn't want to risk breaking the trust of these people that had been so hard-earned. Especially on something they all felt so strongly about.
North waited patiently, contradicting the deep frown furrowing his brow.
"Well…" Jack bit his lip. Better just spit it out and get it over with. "A while ago I went to Pitch to talk to him about some stuff and for a while there I thought I was getting through to him. Then another time I brought him some cake from Mom and I mean, yeah he kicked me out, but he did take the cake. I guess I was just sorta hoping if I brought a whole cake this time he'd be more willing to talk, you know?"
"You went to talk to Pitch?" it didn't really sound like a question.
"Yes."
"Why?"
Jack raised his eyes to look North in the eye. "Because he's like me."
North's expression slackened. "Jack, you are not–"
"And because he has a Globe of Belief," Jack continued, cutting the older man off. He pulled his own Globe out from under his hoodie. "You told me all Guardians have a Globe of Belief. But Pitch has one, too."
North stared silently, focus darting from the small ice Globe to Jack's face.
"And he is like me. Or at least I used to be like him. We both know what it's like to be alone and unbelieved in. He just suffered longer than I did. I mean, that could have been me!" Jack cried, starting to pace back and forth between the yeti and North. "If it hadn't been for him, who's to say I wouldn't still be alone, or that I wouldn't turn out like him eventually? I guess I just feel like I owe him or something."
"Jack…"
"I know he can change," Jack rounded on North. "Or at least be less… evil. Fear is important, especially for kids. He just takes it too far. We can help him. I can help him. You can tell me not to go if you want but I'm going to go anyway." He could always just go ask Jamie's help to make a cake, he supposed. But he had a feeling the kid would be similarly appalled at his decision.
"Jack, do you know the story of how Pitch became the way he is now?" North's question, which was definitely not a reprimand, caught Jack off-guard.
"Kozmotis Pitchiner," Jack whispered. He was Mother Nature's father and, by extension, Jack's grandfather. Kind of.
"That's right," North nodded, oblivious to Jack's mental commentary. "Do you know what happened to him?"
"No," Jack replied. Mother had mentioned very little on the topic and the nature of his 'turning' wasn't one of them.
"Kozmotis was a great general of the Golden Age," North explained. "And as part of his duty he volunteered to guard the Fearlings on the planet they'd been imprisoned on."
"Fearlings?"
North looked momentarily surprised. "They were before your time," he said at length. "Creatures of darkness, they were, and they could possess a person, turning them into shadowy things like themselves. There is no known way to revert process."
"And they possessed Kozmotis," Jack concluded.
"They did," North nodded solemnly. "They tricked him into thinking they had captured his daughter and he opened the door to save her. He could not fight them all."
"Why are you telling me this?" Jack asked after a beat of silence.
"Kozmotis was a hero, and a good man who only wished to protect," North told him. "He is not like the others who have been possessed by the Fearlings that I have seen – he has more control, more sentience of his own.
"Jack, if you think you can help him, then I trust you."
Jack blinked, processing the words he couldn't help but think he'd imagined. "Really?"
"Really."
Jack smiled lightly, warmed by North's faith in him.
"But be careful, Jack. You are more valuable to me than any possibility of regaining Kozmotis."
"Thanks, North. I will."
...
...
Pitch had moved the entrance to his lair again. And really, Jack probably should have seen it coming.
"Well this is inconvenient," he said to no one, staff in one hand and a cake container in the other. How was he supposed to invite himself over to Pitch's place if he didn't know where the front door was? That was just like Pitch. So inconsiderate.
He supposed he could wait until nightfall, find a Nightmare and follow it back, but that would require a lot of patience; something Jack was not known for.
"Looks like we'll just have to search for it," he said to the wind, calling for it to pick him up. "The lair should still be in the same place, right? So the tunnel has to be around here somewhere."
The tunnel, it turned out, was not around there somewhere. Or, if it was, Pitch had hidden it really well. Jack touched down at his lake with a weary, frustrated sigh, leaning his back against one of the trees.
It was spring in Burgess, but it wasn't hot enough yet that Jack would have to stay away. The lake had thawed, though, and the breeze's gentle caress sent small ripples across the surface.
…Except there was no breeze.
Jack stood up straight, staring at the ripples. He sincerely hoped this wasn't going to be anything like what had happened last time there were suspicious ripples in the pond. He didn't really feel like being eaten. Not to mention the cake he'd slaved over would be ruined.
But instead of a giant lake monster, the head that poked out was much smaller, green and turtle-like, with a mop of dark hair.
"You should be careful, child, lest you fall in and drown yourself," it said in a deep, but not unfriendly, accented voice.
A bit late for that, Jack thought with a grimace. "I'm not a child," he said instead. "I'm over three hundred years old."
"You are still a child," the thing returned, amused.
Jack frowned. "Who are you?" he asked, almost accusingly.
"I am a Kappa," the thing replied.
"Okay and what are you doing in the pond?"
"It is my job," Kappa replied as if it were obvious.
"Your job?"
"Yes, I warn children of the dangers beneath the surface of rivers and lakes."
"Oh."
"What have you got there, young one?" Kappa's gaze drifted to the cake container.
"Oh, it was for a… uh, it was for Pitch Black. But he's hidden the entrance to his lair and I can't find it."
"You know Pitch Black?" Kappa asked, suddenly listening intently.
"Yes? Don't you?"
"I know of him, yes, but have never had the pleasure of meeting him in person."
"Pleasure?" Jack mimicked. "Boy do I have news for you…"
Kappa cocked his head to the side. "I do not understand. Pitch's use of fear to teach children is something to be respected, is it not?"
Jack just stared. Had this guy been living under a rock or something? Sure what he was talking about was something Jack had been trying to make Pitch realise, but he hadn't gotten that far yet. Pitch wasn't exactly someone 'respectable' at the moment, nor did he use fear for its proper purpose.
"You know, I think I should introduce you two," Jack decided. If anything, Kappa's admiration might be a helpful boost…
Kappa's eyes lit up at the opportunity.
"Of course, we'd have to find him, first."
"What do we need to look for?" Kappa asked eagerly, swimming closer to the bank.
"A hole in the ground. There might be an old bed frame over it, maybe not."
"Ah, I saw one such thing on my way to this pond!" Kappa exclaimed. Upon reaching the shore, he hauled himself out, revealing his body; turtle-like to match the rest of him.
Jack blinked. That was convenient. "Lead the way, then!" he grinned.
...
...
There was really no reason he shouldn't have been able to spot the hole, Jack realised as he stared down into the gloomy depths, Kappa beside him. The entrance to Pitch's lair had been in a denser part of the forest, but was by no means invisible; just well hidden. He was honestly surprised the water-dweller had managed to spot it at all, let alone remember where it was.
"How does one knock at this entrance?" Kappa asked, staring down at the hole partially concealed by a shrub.
"I usually just let myself in," Jack shrugged. "Not like he even has a door." And without further ado, he stepped into empty space and let himself free-fall until the wind caught him and deposited him gently on the stone floor of Pitch's lair. He quickly stepped forward when he heard Kappa following him.
Last time he'd had to call Pitch out, so he was by no means prepared for the blade that suddenly appeared at his neck. Jack smothered a gasp.
"Hey, gramps," he said as casually as he could. "How's it going?"
"Do not call me that," Pitch seethed. "What are you doing here? And who is this?" he directed the last part to Kappa, who was picking himself up off the ground where he'd fallen.
"I felt like visiting," Jack said, as if that excused coming in unannounced. "I brought you more cake," he held the container out like a peace offering. Pitch spared it only a second's glance.
"You are Pitch Black," Kappa said with reverence. "It is an honour to meet you."
Pitch clearly had not been expecting this, if his slack expression was anything to go by. Nevertheless, his scythe remained in place, ready to lop off Jack's head at any moment. Jack tried not to think about that.
"I am Kappa," Kappa bowed. "Your use of fear to protect children is an inspiration to me and my kind."
Pitch raised a brow.
"Yeah, I don't think he got the memo," Jack smirked. "But I figured you wouldn't mind meeting a fan."
Pitch glared at him. "If that is all you wanted then I would appreciate it if you left immediately. I do not have the time or patience to deal with you."
"You say that every time I come here. And yet what could you possibly have to do?"
"You'd think you'd learn to take a hint."
"You obviously don't know me very well."
"A blade to your neck not convincing enough?"
"It would be if you actually used it."
"Obviously you have no sense of self-preservation. What if I did use it? I'm sorely tempted to."
"I'd freeze you solid. You're not strong enough to fight me and you know it. Also if Mom found out she'd probably level a mountain."
Pitch growled through his teeth. He was clearly aware of his own weakness. And the very real threat of his daughter.
The Kappa, who had been watching the exchange in confused interest, spoke, "You are weak, Pitch Black?"
"Yup, we kicked his butt when he stepped out of line on Easter a little while ago," Jack replied, ducking beneath the scythe so he was no longer at risk of losing his head. Pitch was too weak to beat him in a fair fight, true, but he rarely played fair. "I'm trying to show him how he can still produce fear without being a jerk about it."
"I see. Yes, this is a good thing to understand. I could show you, if you like."
"That will not be necessary," Pitch said, furious gaze never once leaving Jack's face.
Jack meandered his way deeper into the lair, picked a nice spot on the ground and sat down, placing the cake before him. "Want some cake, Kappa?"
"I do not believe I've tried this 'cake' before," Kappa replied, moving over to join him.
"It's probably not the best one for your first try then," Jack admitted sheepishly. "I made it myself. But I had help with the oven. Winter spirits and heat don't go together very well." As he spoke, he formed a knife out of ice and cut a slice for both himself and the water spirit. "You gonna join us, Pitch?"
The Boogieman hadn't moved from where he'd been standing, still silently seething. Jack was beginning to wonder why he hadn't just called the Nightmares to drag them off. Maybe it was the cake. He hoped it was the cake. Bribery might actually work.
Or maybe it had something to with the way Kappa kept looking at him like he was a celebrity. Everybody likes flattery, after all.
When Pitch didn't move, Jack shrugged and took a bite of his slice. It wasn't too bad; not great, though, which was probably a given since it was the first time he'd cooked something like this. Long ago when he'd been human he'd sometimes helped his father skin whatever they caught, but that was a distant memory. And baking a cake didn't require that sort of skill.
After a little while, Pitch slinked back into the shadows and stayed there, neither Jack nor Kappa seeing or hearing him for the duration of their visit. Jack eventually got bored and Kappa felt like he'd overstepped his boundaries so they'd left, Kappa intending to tell some friends of his that also held Pitch in reverence. Jack figured he should be absent for those visits – maybe it would keep him just that little bit north of the shadow man's bad side. And by 'bad side' he meant 'I will chop you into little pieces' side.
...
...
When Jack returned to Pitch's lair some few weeks later, he was pleasantly surprised to find the entrance was exactly where it had been the last time he'd been there. He wasn't sure what it meant, exactly, but he figured it was a good thing.
This time there was no scythe to the neck waiting for him at the bottom, only an empty silence. Jack figured it was unlikely Pitch had stepped out, given it was the middle of the day (too hot for Jack's liking), so he decided to just go look for him.
After half an hour of fruitless searching, and not seeing even a single Nightmare, Jack was starting to get suspicious. How many rooms did this place have? And why didn't Pitch come and confront him already? It wasn't like he didn't know he was there, after all.
Another ten minutes had him standing before a large set of stone doors, partially open to reveal the interior. Jack cautiously stuck his head in through the gap and looked around.
Of all things to find in Pitch's lair, a library hadn't even made it onto the list. It was just as drab and creepy as the rest of the place and not as big as North's, but it was definitely a library. And there, seated comfortably in a black armchair was Pitch, calmly reading. It was… a strange image. Definitely not what Jack had expected.
"Are we really going to go through this again?" Pitch suddenly asked, not looking away from the page.
As he spoke, Jack felt hot breath on the back of his neck. He spun around to find a Nightmare looming over him, golden eyes filled with hatred.
"I'm not feeling as patient as I was the last time," he continued, finally looking up at the intruder, nothing warm or welcoming in his gaze.
"I didn't pick you for a reader," Jack said, swallowing down his sudden uneasiness.
"Perhaps you do not know me as well as you think. Now I will give you five seconds to escort yourself out or I will have you forcibly removed."
Jack held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I'll go. But first tell me if you've thought on what we talked about… however long ago it was now."
Pitch said nothing, but something silent must have been conveyed between him and the Nightmare because Jack suddenly found himself hoisted into the air and unceremoniously dragged topside.
"Wow. Rude," Jack brushed himself off. "But if the yetis couldn't keep me away, a few sand horses aren't going to stop me." A smirk crept its way onto his face. "I wonder how long you'll hold out before you give up!" he called down the hole. Stubbornness was something Jack was very good at.
...
...
Jack had been thrown out of Pitch's lair no less than 53 times by the end of the week. The Boogieman had ambushed him at the bottom of the hole, hidden the hole, tumbled him through endless corridors of darkness, given him nightmares, and even used his shadows to send him to one of the hotter regions of the country. But Jack kept coming back for more. He was either extremely foolish or incredibly smart.
He'd never admit it, but the attempts were starting to wear the older spirit down. There was only so much antagonising one person could take, after all, even if they were the designated 'antagonist'. So when he sensed Jack slip down the hole for the 54th time, he was at his wit's end.
"What will it take for you to just leave me alone?!" he raged, appearing out of the shadows before the infuriating boy.
Jack took a small step backwards at his sudden entrance, but for the most part appeared unfazed. "You know what," he replied, smiling. Pitch would have loved nothing more than to wipe that smile right of his stupid face. Preferably with a bludgeon.
"Get. Out."
At his urging, a wave of sand struck the boy, sending him back up the tunnel to the surface with a startled and somewhat pained yelp. When he was clear, Pitch sealed the entrance over with a thick layer of Nightmare sand. Sure Jack could probably just freeze and break it, but with the spring heat outside he would find it very difficult and it would at least keep him busy for a little while.
Satisfied that he'd be left in peace for at least half an hour, Pitch retreated back to his library.
An hour went by before he started growing suspicious. Jack had rarely waited that long between his infiltrations the entire time he'd been pestering him. What was the boy planning now?
Stretching his senses, Pitch quickly located the winter spirit. He was still near the now-blocked entrance of the lair, in the throes of a nightmare if he wasn't mistaken. That hadn't been his intention when he'd smothered the boy with sand, but he wasn't complaining.
Unperturbed, he left the boy to his fears and returned to his book.
It was no less than fifteen minutes later that Pitch felt the nightmare die away, but from what he could tell, Jack was still unmoving. Surely he should have at least awoken by now, possibly snuck back in to test Pitch's now non-existent patience.
With a sigh of frustration, Pitch let the shadows consume him and deposit him in the shade of the trees near where he had located Jack to be.
The mid-spring sun shone down over the area like a great spotlight, producing enough heat to rival summer. If Pitch found it hot, then it must have been sweltering to a winter spirit. And he was looking at one now, sprawled in the open without so much as a branch to protect him from the blistering sun.
Well, that explained a few things.
The boy was clearly suffering. He was covered in sweat and his skin was flushed a bright red (some of it was probably sunburn). Pitch supposed he was partly responsible, what with the nightmare he'd given Jack having prevented him from getting somewhere cooler and all. But he really didn't care.
Or at least he didn't want to care. But there was a small, almost nonexistent niggling in the back of his mind that he should do something. Something other than just leave the retched boy there to melt into a puddle and feed the grass.
"You are insufferable," he said to Jack's unconscious body, wrapping them both in shadows and retreating back into the cold darkness of his lair.
...
...
Jack awoke to darkness. His whole body was tired and sluggish and he felt like someone had stuffed him in the oven he'd avoided when he'd baked that cake weeks ago.
Looking around the gloom, his exhausted and aching mind slowly realised he was somewhere within the caverns and endless hallways of Pitch's haunt, but the man himself was nowhere in sight. But he didn't remember coming back in after Pitch had literally waved him out. In fact, he didn't remember anything after that. There had been a dream though, if he recalled correctly. A bad one.
It took a little while for the dizziness to subside enough that he would chance trying to sit up, but the cold of the stone around him was doing wonders to cool him down. It wasn't as good as snow, of course, but it was definitely helping.
When he was finally upright, he checked himself over, noting the many half-healed burns across his skin. Must've been in the sun too long, he mused. It was the middle of spring, after all. May would kill him if she found out. (Which defeated the purpose of it all but oh well).
Eventually he found the strength to get to his feet, deciding he'd been left alone long enough to warrant suspicion. Finding Pitch wormed its way to the top of his agenda, if for no other reason than to find out why he'd been brought back inside (because really there was no other explanation).
It came as no real surprise that he found him in the library. From the looks of things he spent a great deal of time there (what else was there to do in this place?).
"I see you're awake," Pitch said monotonously as Jack slipped inside. His expression remained carefully blank as he watched him.
"Yeah," Jack replied tiredly. "Did you–"
"If you are capable of moving around then you are capable of leaving."
After a moment of still silence, Jack slowly hobbled his way across the room to the armchair where Pitch sat, gently lowering himself down to the ground and leaning against its side, too tired and sore to care that he was now an easy target. "What are you reading?"
Pitch didn't reply.
Jack bit back a sigh. He was so tired. With a yawn he let his eyes slide shut; he'd just rest them for a moment, gather a little energy so he could go somewhere snowy.
As the edges between dream and reality started to blur together, he could have sworn he heard a smooth voice quietly say, "The Shining."
Guest Review Responses:
Guest: You have no name! I must name you! Hmmmmm hmmmmmmmmm hmmmmmmmm Guestwolf. (Ch.26:) Thank you so much! I'm really happy it came across well :3 (Ch.59:) Thanks! I love writing it XD
Guest: There are 2 guests, possibly more and I don't know which one is the same person _ So for the one who reviewed chapter 40: I really liked your idea, it's on the list ^w^ Thank you!
geminiofwattpad: Thank you! Fight scenes are the devil XD
Guest: Another one! *Is super flattered you reread chapters* I've added it :3
A fan: *weeps tears of joy that you have a name* Naaaaaaaw thank you =^w^= I'm glad you're enjoying it!