A/N : Writer's block and lack of time are horrible...fortunately I found a really good page with writing prompts on Tumblr ( putthepromptsonpaper )which inspired me.
*takes place around 10 years after "Lessons Learned" and a few years after "Night Terrors"*
July hadn't even gone by and Jack was already fed up with summer. Either the seasonal spirit was running havoc or global warming was to blame. It didn't really matter to him. The fact that temperatures had risen to such ridiculous levels that they actually kept him away from his hometown however did. Even though he could handle the sun and heat for a while it made him feel incredibly uncomfortable and even dizzy if he stayed for too long. He had been visiting Jamie only rarely recently because he was busy with his finals and applying to colleges across the country. Jack dearly hoped he wouldn't stray too far away from Burgess. If he did he would hopefully choose a state with a milder risk of heatwaves like this current one. He had shown up at the Bennett's house one week ago, wisely waiting until the sun had set. And yet the temperatures had exceeded what he could call tolerable.
So here he was, lying on his bed at the North Pole and staring at the ceiling. Boring. He had roamed the cold regions of the world and let off some steam over the Arctic. Had worked on ice prototypes for new toys. Had spent some time with Bunny at the Warren. What was there left to do? Anything to get out for a bit. He wasn't made for staying inside a room for too long.
He might fly over Canada to check the weather and see how far he could go. After all, he didn't have any other plans today so he could take his time. The sun wouldn't go down for at least six more hours anyway.
Shortly afterwards he had left the Arctic ocean behind and North America came into view. The further he travelled towards the USA the warmer it got, but it was still alright for his standards. Closely at the border he made a stop at a small town which looked like straight out of a picture book. Old buildings framed the streets, none of them higher than four floors, cozy cafés and shops at every corner and people didn't seem to be remotely as stressed as citizens of bigger cities. It reminded Jack of Burgess, only smaller, if that was even possible.
The winter spirit reclined on one of the many strong and withered branches of an ancient oak tree and watched the children who had just come out of school and were now on their way back home. Some of them gathered in front of the window of an electronic store which had a big flatscreen TV in their display. Curiously they watched the latest episode of a cartoon and talked about what was happening there. Jack only looked away for a short moment before a collective groan from the group drew his attention back to them. The brightly animated show had been interrupted by breaking news, causing the children to walk away grumpily. Normally Jack wouldn't have been interested in it, but for some reason he had a weird feeling in his belly, so he jumped down from the tree and approached the shop window.
A burning forest was show from an aerial perspective before the anchorman and a reporter were blended in.
"Bill, can you tell us anything new about the situation in Pennsylvania?"
"The fire department has been trying to get the fire under control since it started two days ago but the strong wind and the hot temperatures have proven to be extremely contra-productive. They had to call back the helicopters because it became too dangerous."
"Have they found out what caused it?"
"They aren't completely sure yet, but they assume that wanderers dropped a cigarette. They saved them and according to the police a few of them were drunk. But of course no one admitted that they were responsible for the catastrophe…Wait, we're just getting new information…the wind has veered and is driving the fire southwards. There are several towns in its way and citizens are currently being evacuated."
A map of Pennsylvania was shown which showed the location of the fire, where it was spreading and which towns were concerned.
What little colour was left on Jack's pale face vanished when he saw that it was straightly heading towards Burgess.
"Oh no…" he whispered to himself in schock.
He had to do something. There was no way he would just sit here and hope for the emergency workers to get the situation under control. He wouldn't allow his hometown to be burned to the ground, wouldn't allow his friends, especially Jamie and Sophie, to get hurt.
Judging from the map on the TV screen there wasn't much distance left between the fire and Burgess. He definitely had no time to spare and immediately dashed up in the sky, flying as fast as he could.
Soon he reached the mountains which were not far away from his destination and halted on top of them. He couldn't believe is eyes. From his observation point he had a perfect view of the red and orange haze on the horizon. If its cause hadn't been a wildfire which was currently threatening his home, he would have described the sight as beautiful. Shivers ran down his spine as the world was burning below him. The heat of the afternoon sun and the raging flames were already a less than pleasant combination, even though he hadn't arrived at the center of the natural catastrophe yet.
Without considering if this was actually a good idea he continued his way towards the fire until he was floating directly over it. He had to ascend higher as he felt the flames trying to clutch at him. Blazing hot air surrounded him and made him feel dizzy. Jack shook his head to clear his mind, he must not panic now, he needed a clear mind for this. Gathering his strength he shot a blast of ice towards the ravaging fire. But the immense heat was too powerful and melted it before it had even touched the peak of the flames, the water vaporizing amidst the burning trees. Blast after blast followed, each one more vigourous and the gap between them decreasing. Desperation clawed at the young guardian as the massive fire didn't show any sign of being affected by his assault and raced closer and closer towards Burgess. How badly he wished he hadn't unleashed his powers over the Arctic earlier, he could have needed that extra energy now.
In rising panic he kept fighting this unequal enemy. In vain did he try to ignore the smell of ashes and burned wood, which insidiously fuelled his fear of not being able to handle the situation. Of failing, of allowing his hometown to be swallowed by what appeared to be hell itself. Smoke filled his lungs, making him cough uncontrollably as the flames grew higher and higher, the heat even melting the frost on his clothes. When he looked to the side his heart nearly stopped. He could see Burgess. The fire had almost reached the forest which was encompassing the town. The forest with his lake. Where his human life had ended and his life as Jack Frost had begun. Where he had officially become a guardian. Where the children were playing and hanging out. Jamie, Sophie, their friends and many others. They wouldn't lose their home because of a damn fire. Not as long as he was there to protect them.
There was only one thing left he could do and he dearly hoped it was going to work. It had to.
He flew to the front end of the fire, landed on the still intact ground and defiantly stood in its way. To block its path straight towards his forest he slammed his staff on the ground, creating a thick field of ice that rapidly spread and threatened to extinguish the raging flames right at their roots. A huge number of square meters was stifled in an instant, more and more following. But the wider the ice wandered the thinner it became until it couldn't compete with the ever-growing fire anymore. Jack sank to his knees and panted. He was exhausted and had inhaled so much smoke that it made his lungs burn. Uncontrollable coughing fits shook his body as he tried to keep a cool head. Literally.
Time seemed to be strangely messed up. He had the impression that the flames were coming back with steady speed, but kind of sluggishly, as if they knew they didn't have to hurry because victory was theirs anyway. And yet, with every blink of his eyes they got closer, slow and yet too fast. Once more they were dangerously close, so close he could feel the heat burning his skin. The wind picked him up and carried him several feet away from the blazing menace. Jack rested his hand against a tree for support. Tree? Terrified cerulean eyes stared at the scenery around him. He was at the edge of the forest. The fire had almost reached it. As soon as the flames had touched the first tree it would be too late to stop them from destroying Burgess. His heart pounded as if it was going to burst. Panic and fear filled every fiber of his being. No, no, no, it wasn't supposed to end like this!
Suddenly an unexpected energy gathered inside of him, like so many years in the past, when they had fought against Pitch and Sandy had been swallowed by the nightmare sand. If it was summoned by despair or determination Jack didn't know. He forced himself back on his feet and took a step forward, right towards the raving flames. Ignoring the painful heat and suppressing another coughing fit caused by the biting smoke he aimed his staff at the fiery ocean of yellow, orange and red. Sparks of electric blue light formed around him and with a both anguished and intimidating scream his final attack to protect his hometown began. A carpet of ice, much thicker than the previous one, spread over the ground and infiltrated the fire from below. Simultaneously flashes of ice and frost shot into it, so bright and powerful that they overshadowed the warm yet deadly colours and tinted the air blue. The wind on Jack's side became stronger, changing from a mild breeze to a full-blown blizzard, and washed over what was left of the fire. Instead of decreasing when it neared its center it picked up force and speed, determined to extinguish even the last weak flame and hinder it from regaining its destructive might. Jack gritted his teeth and tightened the grip on his staff. He had to keep going. He couldn't give in now. It was almost over. He wasn't going to fail.
Seconds felt like hours. Even opening his eyes demanded more strength and concentration than he prefered. But he had to check how much of the fire was blown out. To his relief most of the field ahead of him was covered in ashes and wet soil. The ice had melted but the flames had succumbed once and for all. In the distance he could see a small range of still burning ground which was relentlessly choked by the blizzard. Soon nothing was left of the deadly menace, only slowly vaporizing steam and smoke which ascended from the charred soil.
Jack didn't dare to take his eyes off of the scorched landscape, afraid of having missed just a tiny flame that could relight the fire. He knew for sure he wouldn't be able to repeat a defense like this anytime soon. But the catastrophe facing Burgess had been averted. When the realization gradually sank in, his mind his body finally allowed him to release his tension, worry and fear. With a sigh of relief he dropped to his knees, his legs not being able to even carry his own humble weight anymore. Ridden by exhaustion he crawled to the nearest tree and leaned against it. His breathing was heavy and his heart still beating like mad. He tried to convince himself that it was alright to calm down and inhaled deeply. He had done it. He had saved his hometown. Worn out he rested his head on the rough bark and closed his eyes. The longer he stayed there the more he noticed that it was still much too hot for his liking. If he was completely honest it seemed even hotter than before. Maybe it was due to his battle with the natural catastrophe and the heat surrounding him. Even though the fire was extinguished the high temperatures of the afternoon sun felt like they were burning their way through him. The frost on his clothes had melted already and now he felt as if he was going to share the same fate. Sweat was running down his forehead and his body begged him to leave this place, to flee from the uncomfortable warmth and retreat to colder areas. But he was too weak to stand up, even though he tried to get back on his feet with all his might. There was nothing he could do except waiting patiently for his energy to return. Tired from the fight he dozed off, not aware of the figure watching him from afar.
Again had the icy brat interfered. Although it wasn't his own season. Fair enough. But it still provoked him. Couldn't the bugger just mind his own business for a change? Natural disasters were a common occurrence, things like those simply had to happen from time to time. If spirits decided to get involved they would be busy all day long. Next to their actual duties. If anyone was responsible and should have acted upon this fire it was the Spirit of Summer. But she was known for thinking that her season couldn't be hot enough. A summer without high temperatures wouldn't be a real summer after all. She probably hadn't noticed that there was a wildfire roaming here or simply didn't care.
Flann MacHarvest groaned in resentment. Ever since their first encounter he had despised the frost teen's guts. The fact that winter ruined his beautiful creation, the boy's cheekiness combined with the strange innocence and naivity that radiated from him were enough reasons to fuel the autumn spirit's hatred. He recalled the incident where he and Sam Hain, the Spirit of Halloween, had taught him a lesson, a very painful one at that. The consequence, namely the threat of no less a person than the Easter Bunny, was still planted in his memories. He was told, no, commanded to stay away from the youngest guardian and mind his own business. Of course it was still perfectly alright when the white-haired immortal interfered in other seasons. Most likely he would even get rewarded for it, as if he was a hero for fighting the exact opposite of his element. While he simply should have kept his nose out of it. The mental image of guardians and humans cheering at him increased the autumn spirit's rage.
For a moment he wished he hadn't accidentally flown over North America. Wished he hadn't noticed the black cloud of smoke in the distance and decided to check it out. Then he wouldn't have witnessed the wanna-be-hero creating a scene. And he wouldn't be so mad that his balled fists were shaking. It seemed like his anger towards the frost teen, which he had suppressed for over a decade, was completely unleashed right now. All at once.
Without pondering if it actually was a good idea he darted off towards the resting boy on the edge of the forest.
Jack was barely awake. And yet he suddenly felt that something was definitely not alright. As if a sixth sense told him that there was danger ahead. He didn't have much time for hoping it was false alarm. As soon as he opened his eyes he was faced with the Spirit of Autumn, who stood right in front of him, glaring down and casting a menacing shadow on him. Jack instinctively reached for his staff to defend himself, he knew for sure that MacHarvest's presence didn't bode well for him. Before he managed to do so he was seized by the collar, lifted up and pinned against the tree behind him.
"What's your problem this time?" the guardian snapped, not caring that he probably shouldn't provoke the taller spirit in his weakened condition.
He was tired, worn out and seriously not in the mood for further combat. His opponent on the other hand appeared to be more than ready for exactly that.
"As usual ye are my problem, Frost." he snarled back with obvious disgust.
"Look, I really have no need for your negative vibes today, alright?"
"In case ye haven't noticed, ye ain't in any position ta talk ta me like that." Flann threatened and intensified the grip around the teen's neck.
Jack coughed, both from the sudden lack of air and the smoke he had inhaled earlier. It was still stuck in his lungs and helping to make him feel incredibly uncomfortable.
"Random thought...could you maybe leave me the hell alone?" he wheezed and tried to sound confident.
„Why should I? Ye had it comin' as usual."
"Then please enlighten me what I did wrong because I honestly don't have a clue."
The Irish spirit heaved a disgruntled sigh because of the other male's ignorance. This was exactly why he loathed him.
"I was told by yer bodyguards ta mind my own business, remember? All I expected in return was for ye ta mind yer own as well and keep yerself from interferin' in other seasons. But apparently that was too much ta be asked for!"
Cerulean eyes stared at the taller man for a moment before realization dawned on him. Seriously? This was what this aggressive behaviour was all about? It was ridiculous, especially if one considered that the Spirit of Autumn was way older and thus should be a lot more mature than Jack. Well, so much for the theory.
"Alright, can you forget about revenge for just two seconds and listen to me?" the Guardian of Fun started and tried to talk some sense into him.
"There was this huge wildfire, I'm sure you noticed it because otherwise you wouldn't be here. Humans were in danger, they had to evacuate whole towns. I just helped because it would have destroyed my hometown. Call me a killjoy but personally I don't like open flames this close to my friends. Can't you understand I had to interfere?"
Silence followed. For Jack it was hard to read the expression on Flann's face. Mainly because there wasn't any emotion in it. Not anger, not understanding, just blank space. As if he himself didn't know how to react or what to think about the explanation. But when the grip around his throat tightened again and those brown eyes narrowed it was indication enough that his plan had failed.
MacHarvest was furious. He had almost allowed the brat to make him feel guilty for attacking him. Even if he only protected this town, it didn't change the fact that he had no right to mess with someone else's season. It was a matter of principle. And he hated him far too much to admit he had a point. He wasn't going to show any weakness and give in, not in front of Jack Frost of all people. By the way, this was the perfect chance to end the problem once and for all. The ice teen was in bad shape and wouldn't be able to defend himself properly.
Jack struggled to free himself and gasped for air. He had no idea how he could get out of this and already feared the worst. Horrified he glanced at the razor sharp leave which had appeared in the Irishman's hand, the one that wasn't trying to suffocate him. When the older spirit raised his arm and lunged out the guardian winced and tried to look away.
And then, just when the missile was mere inches away from his throat, it was knocked out of his opponent's grasp by a mass of black. That's all he saw before he was released and dropped to the ground. Swiftly he grabbed his staff while Flann was cursing and holding his injured hand. Anger turned into bafflement as the brown-clad spirit stared at someone not far away from them. Jack followed his line of vision and his own eyes widened in shock and surprise.
Several feet behind him stood a familiar as well as loathed black figure surrounded by shadows.
"Great, what's next?" the young guardian muttered to himself.
"Pitch Black? What teh hell are ye doin' here?" the Spirit of Autumn, who had finally found his voice again, inquired dumbfounded and aggravated.
"Good question." Jack thought.
Obviously Flann didn't know that an entrance to the Boogeyman's lair was located in this very forest.
"I was not able to avoid witnessing this little quarrel you two had here. I hate to break the news to you, but if someone is getting rid of him it's me."
"Are you seriously arguing about who's gonna kill me first now?"
"Shut up, Frost!" both of the adult spirits yelled in unison.
"Well, I'm sorry ta dissappoint ye, but I have a score ta settle with the brat. I'll just do the dirty work for ye. Though if ye insist, ye can take what I'll leave over." the Irishman spoke.
He didn't want to provoke Pitch, after all he knew how powerful the Nightmare King was. But even if it would have been wiser to retreat his pride caused him to stand his ground.
"Oh, that's hardly acceptable. Now I'd appreciate if you left because I got to sort out a matter with Jack here."
A shudder ran down the Guardian of Fun's spine when yellow eyes glared directly into his. For some reason he believed it was a sign to keep quiet and let him handle the situation.
"What if I don't agree with that suggestion?" MacHarvest challenged with rising temper.
Swirls of black sand appeared out of nowhere and formed a Nightmare which stood by its master's side and neighed menacingly. Jack gazed at it in suspicion. It was different than the ones he had fought against years ago. This one was roughly three times bigger than the original horses, but instead of a solid metallic shining black it was half transparent, as if there hadn't been enough nightmare sand available. Now as he paid closer attention he noticed that Pitch was paler than he used to be and instead of attacking right away all he did was remain at exactly the same spot. Suddenly Jack understood what was going on. The Boogeyman was still struck from his previous defeats and in no condition for a battle. All he could muster was a bluff and hope his adversary was going to fall for it.
"I would hate to cause a mess and have the Man in the Moon search for a new autumn spirit, do you understand what I mean?"
Flann MacHarvest stared at the black Nightmare. He had heard about them, but never expected them to be so huge. Eerily glowing yellow eyes seemed to penetrate his soul, the creature only waiting for the command to rip him apart. As much as he hated to admit he didn't want to risk a serious fight. Not with the Boogeyman, the only spirit who had ever challenged all of the guardians and almost succeeded. Frustration boiled inside of him but he had to realize there was no way he would win against such a powerful rival. He opened his mouth and halted in his tracks. He didn't know what to say that wouldn't make him sound like a coward. Instead he merely nodded with a disgruntled expression and flew off before he could change his mind. His furious curses could be heard as he became smaller and smaller in the distance.
Jack was about to heave a sigh of relief when the choleric redhead had finally dissappeared. But then he remember that there was still one other person near him who would have loved to have his head hanging on a wall over a fireplace. He tried to get up and groaned when his legs were still refusing to carry his bodyweight. Fortunately Pitch's physical condition wasn't any better. Right after the Spirit of Autumn had vanished he had sunk tho his knees and the Nightmare had dissolved. Jack glanced at the panting Boogeyman.
"Not that I'm ungrateful or anything, but why did you do that? In the past you took every chance you could to kill me."
"And in the near future I shall do the same." Pitch retorted.
"You obviously haven't listened to what I said a few minutes ago. I didn't want someone else to settle the score I have with you."
"So why aren't you attacking me? Waiting for me to feel safe so you can stab me in the back?"
"In case you haven't noticed, I used all my remaining power to uphold the little stunt I just pulled to save you."
Jack took the following silence to recapitulate the previous events. Never, not in a million years, would he have expected the Nightmare King to protect him from another enemy. It was so surreal that he wondered if it had actually happened. Had he fallen unconscious after the fire and had it just been a dream? No, he usually dreamed of much more enjoyable things than this. So it had to be the truth. The other guardians would never believe him. He already imagined North examining him for head injuries.
"Oh please…" Pitch started when he saw the winter spirit still keeping his staff directed at him, ready for defending himself.
"Put that stick away. I swear if I was able to fight you would be begging for mercy already."
"I kinda doubt that." Jack snapped back.
"Cocky as usual, I see."
"No offense, Pitch, but I simply don't trust you. What assures me that you won't take the chance and beat me while I'm already down?"
After all the young guardian had experienced with him he had a hard time accepting that he was safe with him being around. Maybe this was just another bluff of the Boogeyman to fool him like he had done with MacHarvest. Maybe he was still stronger than he admitted and only waited for the right moment to show his power. Jack didn't dare to divert his eyes from the black figure who knelt far too close to him for his personal liking. Even though he was in a pretty bad shape he wouldn't run away. He merely didn't want to be caught unprepared.
The suspicion radiating from the teen didn't escape Pitch. With a groan and after a moment of hesitation he addressed the winter spirit again.
"I had never thought of you as someone dangerous. Unfortunately for me that was my biggest mistake and I swore to myself I would never understimate you again. And I can barely get up right now, so would you please chill."
For some reason that very last word and the way he said it made Jack snort and the slightest grin formed on his face. Pitch's features mainly showed impatience, directed at his own physical condition and his desire to leave as quickly as possible, and annoyance about having to be near the Guardian of Fun and endure his presence.
It took both of them a while to regain their strength, at least so much that they could get back on their feet again. Jack was the first to recover. The urge to leave this place, even if it was the forest of his hometown, was so strong that he forced himself to get up. His body was still weak and he had to lean on his staff for support, but he couldn't stay here much longer. Not only because of the Nightmare King, but also because of the disturbing heat. Evening had already arrived but the temperatures were still not remotely as low as he would have prefered.
When Pitch saw that the white-haired immortal had stood up he gathered all strength and, because he refused to let him look down on him, shakily rose as well. Both males stared at each other stubbornly, none of them daring to be the first to turn their back on the other. Eventually the older spirit got tired of the farce, all he wanted was to rest in his lair.
"Well, I will go now. Please don't follow me, I'm not prepared for guests." he spoke cynically.
Jack couldn't stop himself from chuckling again. When had the Boogeyman developed something that could be called 'humor'?
"Don't worry about that. I know it's hard to believe but I actually got better things to do."
"I hoped so." Pitch retorted and slowly started walking in the opposite direction.
"Hey, wait a moment!" the guardian suddenly shouted after him.
The black-clad man turned around once more, not sure what to expect.
"I guess I should say it, so…thanks." he muttered awkwardly.
It took a moment until the weary Nightmare King's mind had processed the words. Before he vanished in the forest he shuddered and glared at the youth.
"Don't thank me, Frost, it makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable."
A/N : I badly wanted to write something with the autumn-jerk and Pitch again. ;)
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