ATTENTION ALL READERS: Sorry for shouting but I need to make sure you all read this because I don't want to have to repeat myself (again). #1: I am really busy with assignments right now and exams are literally only weeks away, which is why there have been delays with chapters (sorreh). #2: IF IT HAS BEEN A WHILE SINCE I'VE UPDATED AND YOU WANNA KNOW IF THERE'S A REASON OR IF I'M UPDATING SOON, PLEASE CHECK MY PROFILE. I post updates there about what I'm up to, whether there are any delays, and sometimes when you can expect the next update. If you don't wanna do that, that's fine, you can leave a review or PM me and I'll get back to you, but please, PLEASE, don't leave a guest review asking me when I'm updating. It's not that it bothers me - I'm more than happy to answer questions, no matter what they are - but if you ask me a question as a guest, I CAN'T GET BACK TO YOU until I update. Which means you've basically wasted your time.

Sorry about the rant, but it keeps happening so I wanted to make it absolutely 100% clear. I'm not annoyed, but it does stress me out a bit knowing that you're waiting and I can't tell you why you're waiting or for how much longer...

Anywho! This chapter is a companion piece to 'Empathy for a Frozen Heart' (chapter 66 - but you won't need to go back and reread that one to understand what's going on) and was requested by crazylilgrace. Sorry about the delay, and apologies in advance for further delays.

...

Burning Bridges

...

Pitch could pinpoint the exact moment his peace was disturbed. He hadn't even needed the murmurings of the shadows that draped his lair to inform him; the chilled winter breeze that drifted through the many hallowed hallways was tell-tale enough. The tinge of marginal fear coming from the intruder – the fear of being taken by surprise, he noted absently – turned subtle into a blatant scream of trespass. Of course, all of these factors converged together meant only one thing: Jack Frost was here.

Biting back a growl of irritation – why couldn't the brat just leave him alone to wallow in self-pity? – Pitch surged to his feet and sank immediately into the nearest patch of shadow, remerging in the main cavern.

It was an easy enough task to spot Jack Frost on the floor below, staff held forward defensively and gaze darting every which way in an attempt, no doubt, to spot him. Pitch shadow-teleported again so that he was standing a short distance behind the oblivious child.

"Frost?"

Jack flinched violently at his voice and swung around. He appeared ready to blast Pitch with ice but refrained. He masked his unease with a smirk and asked, "Surprised to see me?"

"If you're referring to seeing you above water, then no," Pitch returned with distaste, taking cautious yet confident steps towards him. "I was... alerted to that particular failing." And indeed he had been. He mentally grimaced at the memory. Seraphina had proven herself more often than not to be a fearsome adversary. But surely she would not find fault in self-defence; her beloved winter spirit had barged in uninvited, after all.

Jack, oblivious to Pitch's inner musings, countered, "And if I was referring to now?"

"Well, I'd be lying if I said I'd been expecting you."

The smug smile that worked its way onto Jack's face made Pitch curl his lip and he sunk into the shadows. The brat would not get the upper hand here, be it with words or with actions.

"The real question is," he said, voice echoing around the cavern, "what are you doing here?"

"I came to talk," Jack replied, gaze once again scanning his surroundings, trying to judge where Pitch would reveal himself next.

"Did you, now?"

"Yes. So would you mind winding up the creepy show and facing me?"

"Well," Pitch drawled, re-emerging behind Jack with a roll of his eyes, "since you asked so nicely."

Jack spun around again. Pitch leaned casually against the rock wall, feigning relaxation. Internally, however, he was tense and ready to react to any sudden attack. What could a Guardian have to talk about with him? Except, of course, in the event that 'talk' didn't really mean what it normally did. And he refused to let his guard down for a second.

As if reading his thoughts, Jack lowered his staff so that it hung limply at his side. Pitch's eyes immediately narrowed as he honed in on the movement. What was this? An attempt to trick him? To lull him into a false sense of security? Or was the boy really that stupid as to leave himself undefended in the face of the Boogieman?

"No games, no lies, no tricks," Jack said, as if attempting to reassure him. "Just talk."

The notion was completely absurd. For a long moment, he couldn't even find the words to express just how ridiculous it was. "What on Earth could the two of us have to talk about?" he eventually snapped mockingly.

"You said it yourself," Jack shrugged carelessly. "We understand each other better than I think either of us would care to admit."

Pitch pushed away from the wall, standing to his full height. He didn't quite tower over Jack the way he had in Antarctica, when he'd been at the pinnacle of power, but he was still at least a foot taller, possibly two, and he knew he was intimidating even without the added height.

Jack's words confused him. Now the brat wanted his companionship? Not when he'd offered it? Well, the offer was off the table; had been since Jack had rejected his proposal, rejected him, all that time ago.

"The Guardians finally get tired of their new pet?" Because he could come up with no other explanation. No doubt the Guardians would be less than thrilled if they knew what their newest member was doing, unless, of course, Jack the screw-up had made one too many mistakes. Guardians of Childhood, indeed; they couldn't even handle one child, three hundred years old or not.

Oblivious, Jack spun on his heel and began casually strolling through the cavern, as if on a leisurely stroll through a park and not through the dark recesses of the Boogieman's home. Pitch watched him scathingly, prepared for anything. Jack's feet carried him all the way over to Pitch's Globe of Belief, where he stopped.

"The truth is, you don't have to be alone any more than I did," Jack's voice rang through the silence, bouncing off the rock walls.

Pitch felt his ire rise. Just who did that brat think he was? Who did he think Pitch was? The Nightmare King had no need for friends. He was furious that Jack would even dare to insinuate such a thing. But that wasn't the point. The point was, Jack's words implied that everything, all his suffering, all his toils and failures, all the seething glares and barbed words he'd been on the receiving end of through so many centuries (not that he cared at all about this latter point), was his fault, as if Jack and his precious Guardians hadn't interfered at all.

"Oh really?" he practically growled. His rage curled in his chest like a tangible thing. "Then care to explain why I've been driven to living underground, to hiding under beds and scavenging what fear I can get without you and your precious Guardians fighting me like your personal punching bag?"

Jack didn't shift from his position beyond giving him a considering glance over his shoulder, head tilted to the side as if he couldn't understand why Pitch had reacted in such a way. "Hiding under beds is your thing, though, isn't it? That and closets – they're the darkest places in a room at night; what better place for you to sneak up on them from?" His gaze returned to the Globe. "Fear isn't something that needs to be eradicated."

Okay, Pitch had not been expecting that, least of all from the so-called Guardian of Fun. Just what was Jack's point? What was he getting at? "Have you told this to the Guardians?" It would certainly explain his presence here – such a radical view would not go down favourably with that bunch of stuck-up, self-absorbed Moon-lovers. "I highly doubt they'd agree."

"Then they're wrong."

The words that had been on the tip of Pitch's tongue, ready to lash out with the same strength as a physical blow, sputtered and died. As he desperately tried to recollect his thoughts, Jack turned fully to face him.

"Fear is important," Jack continued, "especially for kids. You're just too ambitious. Instead of trying to make the world a place where only fear and darkness exists, you should help the kids with it. Fear keeps them from doing things that could hurt them; it's what stops them from running out onto the road, or climbing a tree that's too tall, or getting into a car with strangers, or... or going onto a frozen lake before checking how thick the ice is."

That last example, they both knew, was from personal experience. Pitch didn't need to see the deepest fears hidden away in Jack's heart to know that; the wistful and sad look on his face was proof enough. Of course, Jack had a point with his argument – he could very well use his centre to help. But that would mean lowering himself to being like the Guardians, to being nice and pleasant and loving. It would mean he would actually have to care about those irritating children who cared nothing for him. It would mean swallowing his ego.

"This," Jack's gesturing wave at the Globe dragged his attention back to the matter at hand, "is proof that you can be so much more than what you're limiting yourself to. All Guardians have a Globe of Belief." As if to prevent any accusatory comments, he pulled a small ice-version of a Globe from around his neck. It was so small – only the size of his palm – Pitch wondered how it was in any way effective. "So I think that means you were at least offered the chance to be one."

Ha. As if. Pitch had a Globe of Belief because he'd made one. He had a Globe so he could keep an eye on the power base of his greatest enemies. But any such consideration was washed away by the fury that filled him at Jack's inferred meaning.

"I am not one of those do-gooder-"

"I used to think the same thing," Jack cut him off. "I'm not like them – I don't work to short deadlines and my work is more fun than hard. Not to mention back then there wasn't a single person who could see me. But because of you I realised something. I realised that just because I'm not like them, doesn't mean I'm not a Guardian." He paused momentarily, as if to collect his thoughts. Pitch hoped he was getting to the point sometime this year. "A Guardian is someone who protects kids, who only wants what's best for them, and no matter what your centre is, as long as you strive for that you're doing a good job. Success is relative."

And therein lay the very problem. "I couldn't care less about those brats!"

"I said no lies," Jack said accusatorially. "That whole 'take over the world thing' was because you wanted kids to believe in you. But you don't have to take away all the good things to achieve that. You can use fear to create those good things. How do you think courage is born? Or bravery? It's by overcoming fear."

Slowly, Jack began closing the distance between them.

"At the Tooth Palace you said you didn't want to be hated. So why don't you become someone who helps them grow? All you have to do is tone it down on the nightmares, and only let them fear the things that truly deserve to be." He stopped less than five metres away, staring up at him. "You can still be a Guardian. You can still have a family."

He was wrong. He was wrong. He would not subjugate himself like that. He didn't care about the wellbeing of human children. He didn't care if they were happy or brave. He just wanted to be believed in. He wanted to be seen, to be tangible. But he would not allow himself to be defeated over and over again – even if just psychologically. Not by the Guardians. And definitely not by the likes of those weak brats.

Jack pretended to understand. And, Pitch supposed, he did in a way. But they were not the same. They were similar, but they were still so intrinsically different. Jack didn't understand because he was not in the same position and never had been. They both knew what it was like to not be believed in, true, and they both knew what it was like to be hated. But Jack didn't have to lower himself to being the villain who was forever conquered; never had been.

"Get out!" Pitch snapped, something more than anger coiling through him. It almost felt like longing or regret, but he refused to think on it. "You don't understand anything!"

Both spirits froze at the words that tore themselves unbidden from Pitch's throat. They were an exact echo from their 'conversation' during the Easter debacle.

Then, ever so slowly, Jack whispered, "But I do. And I'm offering you the chance to understand, too. We can make them believe." He held out one hand, expecting Pitch to take it. "But the world doesn't have to be pitch black. It's enough for you to just be a part of it. Let me help you like you helped me."

Pitch stared at the proffered limb numbly. He'd meant what he'd said that day, what now felt like years ago. He had longed for a family. And he had reached out to this winter child in whom he'd thought he'd found a kindred spirit, but Jack had spat in his face. Now he had the nerve to turn the same offer back on Pitch. But Pitch wasn't sure he was willing to pay the price that came with it. And he wasn't sure he was willing to so soon forgive the way Jack had taken his wishes and hopes and stomped on them.

He belatedly realised Jack was still watching him expectantly. By way of answer, he batted the hand away and slipped into the protection of the shadows. This conversation was over.

"I don't need your help and I don't want your pity," he said, disembodied voice drifting through the cavern. Then, against his better judgement, he added, "You have twenty seconds to get out before I set my Nightmares on you."

"I'm not giving up on you, Pitch," he heard Jack call as the boy began heading back towards the tunnel that had admitted him. "Just... just think about it." And then he was gone.

Pitch resisted the urge to groan. He had a bad feeling Jack wasn't going to let this go, and any intervention on Pitch's part would have to be rather forceful if he was going to drill it into Jack's head. And such an action would only cause more problems.

He reappeared on one of the stairways and cast a wistful glance at the entrance to his lair.

Jack Frost didn't understand.

Guest Review Responses:

Guest: Please see A/N at the top of the chapter

Guest: Holy crap are you okay?! XD That's a lot to get through. Pls don't strain yourself! Aaaah thank you! X3 And thank you for taking the time to read! (Good luck with your finals! Don't procrastinate too much ;) (said the pot to the kettle))

JFunderburker: Hahaha I'm glad you enjoyed my messed up sense of humour XD I think he was just so baffled by the turn of events he spoke without thinking? :P

Painapple: Haha you're crazy 3 As for the kids thing, I agree - I like to think, though, that peeking at their dreams (nudged in the right direction, of course) would be enough to fill in the blanks. What, you thinking of doing an autopsy to check? XD

XIcyRacoonX: Hahaha yeah, poor Bunny :P Jack and Sandy together is honestly a disaster waiting to happen. Sandy's got a mischievous streak in him and Jack's not afraid to exploit it ;D

Chasm-chan: Glad you liked it!