Sorry again if this is late…

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"North!" Jack yelled, zigzagging down the endless tunnels of darkness, searching desperately for any sign of the guardian of wonder in the cave openings. In truth, the spirit was completely lost; the small light that he had been guiding him for all of this time seemed to be dimming at an alarming rate, only showing a few centimetres of the ground in front of him. The cave suddenly sloped downwards, making Jack stumble and land on his front painfully. Usually, he would never fall down as ungracefully as that, but his injured leg was hurting again, despite the frost numbing the pain underneath. The injury had been hurting ever since the nightmares grabbed it to swing him against the wall, and now it was slowing him down.

Jack sprang up again immediately and, without breaking a stride, continued running down the tunnel, holding his sword out in front of him.

"North!" The spirit yelled again, making ice form underneath his feet, trying to improve his speed. Strangely, however, the ice seeped into the ground like water. Growling, Jack ran faster, breathing in sharply as his leg twinged in pain.

"Jack!" The spirit stopped quickly, panting, and looked around.

"North! Where are you?!" He cried out, turning on the spot. "I'm coming, I promise!"

"Quickly!"

Jack moved forward, following North's panicked voice, holding his sword out like a glow-stick.

"You have to tell me where you are!" Jack felt tears prick in his eyes out of frustration.

"Jack…" North's voice was faded now. Weaker. Struggling…

"Hold on! Please!" The spirit moved closer to the wall and found a small gap hidden in the stone, just the right size for a skinny winter spirit with a large sword. Jack brushed away the unease in his stomach and squeezed himself in the hole, pushing his sword out in front of him. He didn't see the yellow pair of eyes watching him, and the gleaming smile underneath them.

—

Pitch just watched as Jack Frost panicked, noting triumphantly the cuts on his face and the leg that he dragged behind him. The idiotic spirit was lost, any fool could see that, and he was only becoming more lost, moving further into his labyrinth of darkness. He was almost at the heart now, and any moment his powers would be ineffective on his beautiful sand.

Sure enough, the frost trail ended suddenly behind the spirit, not that he realised. He was panicking too much, wanting to find the last beloved guardian.

Everything was falling into place. Everything was how he planned it.

And, oh, how entertaining it was to watch! How nice it felt to finally be once step ahead of Jack Frost, to know that the troublesome spirit would never be making it out of these tunnels! How fun it would be to kick his lifeless body as North watched, useless!

The older guardian was currently chained against a cave wall, close to here, actually. Pitch was sure that the Cossack could hear every one of Jack's cries, not that he could do anything about it. The Boogeyman had gagged him earlier, along with tying his limbs together tightly, so there was no way the fat oaf could get in the way.

Pitch chuckled quietly as the spirit stopped, listening out for the fake voice again. Seriously, was Jack Frost fooled this easily? After all of this time he spent fighting him, he could've just locked the spirit in a cage and played with his mind again, forcing more nightmare sand into his brain – because that was what was happening now, in reality. His nightmare, though dying in service, had managed to inject the sand into the annoying spirit which now was raging through his mind, mixing up his fears with what was actually happening in the now.

Finally! The stupid winter spirit had found the hole that Pitch had perfectly made in the cave wall, perfectly his size, perfectly leading straight to his little trap where North was waiting.

Pitch couldn't help but smile, eyes glinting in amusement. Finally, he was in control. Pitch Black was the puppeteer, and Jack Frost was the mindless toy hanging at the end of the strings.

—

Jack finally slipped out of the hole, blending in with the shadows surrounding him. Picking up his sword, the spirit began to made his way around the edges of the small room he was in, squinting in the darkness. Too many times before had he been ambushed by walking into the centre of the room, and he didn't really fancy it this time.

Jack scanned the room again, watching for any movement. A shift in the darkness caught his eye and he looked up, spotting for the first time exactly who he was looking for.

North was hanging against the wall, a gag stuffed into his mouth tightly. The guardian of wonder's limbs were tied forcefully with a rope made out of black sand, and his wrists and ankles were held by thick, heavy cuffs. His coat was stained and his boots were scuffed, but his eyes still held the same light they did all of those years ago.

Jack was about to make his presence known to the older guardian but the Cossack spotted him first as he crept out of the shadows. His eyes widened with a mixture of joy and worry, and he began trying to say something, but the gag blocked his words.

"You're alive…" Jack breathed, moving closer to North. The spirit wanted to sink to the floor in relief, but first he had to free the guardian.

"I'm going to get you out of those. Just hang on."

However, the winter spirit was quickly distracted from his task as North tried to say something else urgently in a frantic tone.

"What?" Jack's heart fluttered in panic. Was North actually hurt? The spirit reached out for the black gag, aiming to untie it, but something hard hit his side and sent him skidding across the floor for what felt like the hundredth time that day, cutting his legs. A loud, echoing cackle echoed in the small cave, sounding just like the one in his nightmare.

"Oh Jack – I honestly thought better of you…"

Jack stood up unsteadily, only to get picked up and hung in the air by his ankle.

"But then again, if I did, this would've never had worked."

The spirit twisted himself, noting two things. One, the thing that was holding him was a giant, nightmare tentacle.

Two, Pitch Black was holding that tentacle, clearly pleased with himself.

"Could you put me down please?" Jack asked as politely as he could. "You see, I'm going to get dizzy up here like this, and then I'm not going to listen to your precious monologue because of it." Pitch snarled. Jack grinned.

"Still cocky, I see." The Boogeyman said through gritted teeth, creating another tentacle/rope out of the shadows and making it hover above the winter spirit. Jack swung himself slightly, wishing that Pitch would stop gripping his ankle so hard.

"I get that a lot, strangely." Jack said, wiggling his ankle. "I have no clue why." He could hear North urgently trying to say something to him, but he ignored it. He needed to focus on stopping Pitch. If he did that, all of them – all of the guardians – would be together again.

Pitch rolled his eyes and casually slammed the spirit on the floor, creating a loud crack. The spirit yelled as he hit the ground, dropping his sword as he did so. The Boogeyman spotted it and walked over to the weapon curiously, gagging the spirit with sand as he did so.

"What's this pretty thing?" He asked, picking it up with two fingers. He held it out as if it was trash. "Do we really need this, hmm?"

Jack froze the gag quickly with his tongue (a new experience) and was able to talk again.

"Yes, actually…but I guess you're not gonna give it to me." Jack tried to get up again, but was moved back to his previous position, hanging by his ankle.

"No, I don't think you will need this silly old thing!" Pitch laughed, dropping the sword a few metres away from the spirit and kicking it with his foot. "It looks too dangerous…you could cut yourself, Jackie."

"I doubt it."

"I couldn't take the chance."

Jack rolled his eyes, rotating in the air. North's muffled words filled the silence as the spirit thought of a plan. Only one idea came into his mind.

"What's that? Over there!" Jack nodded his head to a random spot behind Pitch, trying to act convincing. The Boogeyman snorted.

"You really think I would fall for that, Frost?!" He sneered.

"Honestly? No." Jack suddenly span around, feeling his other foot collide satisfyingly into Pitch's smug face. He quickly froze the tentacle holding his spare foot, sending him crashing to the ground. As Pitch stumbled to his feet, Jack launched himself across the room, snatching up his sword. Panting, he stood up just as the Boogeyman turned around, fury flashing in his eyes.

"I'm glad that went well." Jack said, smiling reassuringly at North, who was watching wide-eyed.

"I'm afraid it won't be that easy, Frost." Pitch said, pulling out a blade from under his cloak – the very same blade that had almost killed the spirit all those years before. The guardian swore he saw dried blood at the edge of the weapon.

"I know." Jack's face split into a well-rehearsed grin. "But I've got to beat you, haven't I?"

Pitch Black and Jack Frost leapt into the air at the same time, determination reflecting in both of their eyes, ready to fight to the death.

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