A.N: Thank you everyone for reading! See you on the next adventure!
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"A cat is only itself."
―Charles Bukowski, On Cats
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Jack Frost's throat twinged as he spied on Pitch from behind a bush. He wished the other Guardians were with him. North would know what to do. Or Sandy. With chagrin Jack realized he'd never successfully dealt with Pitch Black alone—Sandy and the others had always shown up to help at the last second. The only times he'd been truly alone with the Nightmare King were during Easter and Antarctica. Both were disasters. Yesterday was a disaster too, yet . . . Yet I'm still alive, he thought. The last thing he wanted was to confront Pitch, but the little voice kept whispering, What else can I do? What kind of Guardian would I be if I didn't face him?
Pitch looked up from licking a paw and stiffened as Jack came into view. The young Guardian forced himself not to run. Pitch stared at him like—A cat, Jack thought. Whereas his friends were Guardians dressed up in cat suits, Pitch felt like real deal. He's mean enough to be a cat, that's for sure, Jack thought.
As if hearing Jack's thoughts Pitch suddenly hissed. He took several steps towards Jack, fur bristling. The winter spirit didn't retreat despite every instinct telling him to, claws burrowing into the ground. Jack told himself he was ready if Pitch struck, but another part wilted. Pitch drew closer, pupils thin slits. Jack braced. His heart knocked against his ribs as Pitch suddenly shoved past. Jack blinked. He watched the other cat stalk away.
Jack kept his distance from the Boogeyman for the rest of the day, unwilling to test how far his luck would hold. He kept to the bushes and trees as they left the meadow and reentered the forest. Pitch ignored him. Unlike the glares yesterday, Pitch didn't glance Jack's way once, ignoring him as if he were part of the scenery.
That night, the winter spirit noticed Pitch had left his sleeping spot. After a moment of internal debate, Jack decided to follow. The other's trail led into a small clearing and Jack froze when he noticed Pitch Black staring at the Moon. Jack half-ducked from view, unable to shake off the feeling he was intruding on a private moment. Despite the warning bells in his head Jack found he couldn't move, morbidly curious. Pitch was almost white in the moonlight, sitting as if he'd been carved from stone, tail undulating slowly. It struck Jack that everyone was somehow tied to the Nightmare King. Jack was. The Guardians were. Even the children of the world were. It would make sense the Moon was too, though as Jack spied on the strange scene, he couldn't help but sense a deeper story, one he doubted he'd ever learn.
The memory came to Jack as seamlessly as a waking dream: it was a scene similar to this one, the same pale light filling a similar clearing. There had been no children that night, no bantering, no insults. There wasn't even speaking. The violence of it all had taken away Jack's breath as Pitch staved them off in an effort that made his last battle with the Big Five seem like child's play. He was going to win, Jack suddenly thought, blinking. He absolutely was. How could've he forgotten that? Pitch's fingers had been within reach. Just the crystal was snatched there was a brilliant flash, and then—and then—
We woke up as cats. All of us.
Jack shook his head, the memory fading. So the Man in Moon had intervened. Must've been pretty serious if the Moon had something to do with this, he still didn't explain why the crystal had been so special in the first place. The young Guardian looked up and found Pitch studying him through narrowed eyes. Jack stiffened. Instead of hissing or chasing him away Pitch kept staring, face inscrutable as a cat's. Jack wasn't sure if he liked that better. The last thing he wanted to repeat was another cold and dark attempt, unable to help remember Antartica.
But then Pitch looked away, back towards the Moon, the moment gone.
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Jack woke up shivering under a thin layer of snow. The sky was the colour of pigeon down, soft and gray. He sniffed the air, the crispness stinging his nose. If he didn't find the second crystal . . . well. He didn't plan on staying a cat long enough to experience what true winter meant. He glanced over his shoulder. Pitch was already awake, licking his paw. When he finished he began limping deeper into the woods, appearing not to care if Jack followed or not. He didn't seem to care much about anything, ears fixed ahead with a single-minded purpose while Jack's swiveled at every sound. As they walked Jack glanced behind himself every so often, trying to ignore the steady worry. Once again there was no sign of the other Guardians. What could be taking them so long?
What would they do if they saw you with Pitch Black? the little voice said. Jack pushed it down and pretended the thought hadn't crossed his mind. I'm following him so he doesn't get to the crystal first, he retorted, but even in his mind he wasn't sure if they'd accept that. Especially Bunnymund. Jack flattened his ears. Two years of friendship had done much to erase past antagonisms, but Jack didn't dare want to risk what he'd gained. After three hundred miserable years, the Big Four had become the family he'd never had. He couldn't imagine losing them.
They soon passed by a large blackwater river. Its side were swollen with the extra rain and snow from the past few days. Jack eyed it warily, ears flattening. Pitch never paused, veering towards it. Jack hesitated. Stomach aching, he moved as close as he dared to the edge. He watched from the corner of his eye as Pitch proceeded to fish. He tried to mimic the older cat's movements, striking when Pitch struck, but the most he did was get himself wet. Fish darted in silver flashes beneath the water, as if laughing. Jack hated to admit it, but Pitch was a better cat than himself. Nearly every one of the Boogeyman's strikes brought up a wriggling fish. Probably more used to killing things than me, Jack thought, eying Pitch's filling belly. His own pressed against his spine, snarling.
At a certain point Pitch stopped hunting and began cleaning his whiskers. Jack pretended to be busy and tried not to show his eagerness when the black cat left. When Jack slunk over to scavenge the bones his ears perked. Some of the carcasses still had meat left. One fish was barely eaten. Jack scarfed everything down, stomach relaxing. He was nearly finished when he glanced up to see—
Pitch crossing the river.
What? What was he doing?
"Miarrow!" Jack called. We can cross at another point! Or later! Or not at all!
Pitch looked over his shoulder and gave Jack a pointed look. His lips lifted in a sneer before continuing forward, carefully picking a way through the exposed rocks. Jack paced the river's edge, tail lashing. The borealis gently undulated above, leading beyond the river. There was no telling how long it would take to find dry passage over, and Pitch was already a quarter a way over.
Dammit! Jack thought, then leapt. His claws scrabbled against the first rock. Water splashed in his face, shockingly cold. He made the mistake of peering into the dark, frothing depths, feeling his lungs lock up. The churning of the water drowned all other sounds.
Turn back, a little voice said. Catch up to Pitch later. He looked over his shoulder.
The silent forest loomed.
There was no other decision. Jack leapt to the next rock, claws out. Then the next. Water spat in his face and belly as he slowly shadowed after Pitch. He forced himself to only focus on the next rock, shoving his fear in a corner so it could be taken out and deconstructed later. He tried to imagine what he'd say if Jamie was with him. It's only a game, see? Only a game, just cross the river, the water's lava, only a game—
Jack was more than three quarters of the way when he slipped on a coating of ice. He twisted and his lower body was submersed before he knew it, the current buffeting him as he clung against the rock in a death-grip. The swirling current felt like a thousand icy needles piercing his skin. He slowly began pulling himself up, muscles quivering. When he shifted for a better foothold his claws slipped. He was instantly swept away. He slammed into a rock and was shoved under, the freezing water stealing his breath from his chest. Jack broke the surface, spluttering.
When a mouth suddenly clamped on the back of his neck Jack lashed out in a panic. The jaws shook him until he went passive. It took several more seconds before Jack noticed black fur.
Pitch? Jack choked on water as he tried to miaow. Pitch swam against him, pulling hard. The Boogeyman hissed when they collided with another rock but kept his punishing grip on Jack's neck. It was only when Jack began swimming without panicking did the jaws let go. Pitch jostled next to him, forcing Jack to swim in a diagonal path until they reached the other side. Jack exploded out of the water the moment his paws touched land, scrambling up the rocks as fast as he could. Land! Yes, yes, sweet land! He went almost dizzy trying to shake the water out, wet fur sticking out in crazy spikes. Within seconds he was shivering.
A shadow passed by. It was Pitch, fur sleek as an eel, ears held back. Jack could only stare. He should've been swept halfway down the river by now.
"Mrow?" Jack asked, only remembering words didn't work.
Pitch fed him an unreadable look. There was no warmth there, no comfort, and Jack's huge smile of relief wilted. Pitch shifted his weight from his injured paw and grimaced. Just as Jack expected another hiss in his face the Boogeyman began limping away, following the aurora borealis in the same single-minded determination. Jack watched him go, blinking. It was only when Pitch disappeared around a bend did Jack follow, glad to be alive but still slightly mystified he was.
Didn't have to bite so hard, he thought, turning his neck to work the soreness out.
Tiny snowflakes fluttered past Jack's whiskers as he padded through the forest. Was all of this because he saved Pitch from the bobcat? Or had the act of saving Pitch changed something, something he couldn't see yet? Jack shook his head and growled. Nothing made sense in this cat-body. He still didn't know why he saved Pitch from the bobcat in the first place—after the coyote incident, Jack should've let the wild animal tear Pitch apart. In his gut he knew the Boogeyman would try to hurt Jamie again, or try to overthrow the Guardians again.
Bah. Everything was clearer when he wasn't a foot off the ground.
The two cats kept walking until the sounds of the river faded into nothing. The forest was still, the remaining leaves quiet on their trees. Jack didn't notice, too cold and stiff to care about the surrounding beauty. He dimly realized even though the Man in Moon granted him the power of winter, he'd never experienced the cold. Not like this. Not this teeth-chattering, muscle-numbing chill. Even his thoughts felt sluggish as he stumbled after Pitch. He wearily glanced at the other cat. Pitch was slower and was favoring his bruised shoulder, but didn't appear to be shivering as badly.
By evening the snow was falling at a steady pace, covering the ground in a thin blanket. Hunger gripped his stomach with a needled fist, but it was a small pain compared to his frozen limbs. Jack closed his eyes and continued to shiver, wishing his still-damp fur would warm him up. His heart ached. Was Jamie looking at the sky right now, wondering where he was?
I'm coming, Jamie. Just need to get this mess sorted out, then I'll be back. I promise.
The moon was peeking through the trees when Pitch finally stopped for the night. He entered a hollowed-out log and curled in its most protected section, his eyes gleaming eerily in the shadow. Jack gingerly squeezed into the edge, keeping as far away from Pitch as he could while still under the log's protection from the snow. He could hear it falling on the trees and branches, soft and relentless. Despite the beauty of the moment fear gripped his heart. They needed to find the other crystal, and soon. Shivers wracked his body. He couldn't feel his paws.
Jack, I'm scared. It was his sister, the memory of her voice bright.
I know, I know. But you're gonna be alright, he had said. We're going to have a little fun instead.
Fun. Jack's mouth twitched in a half-smile. Fun saved his sister. It turned the tide against Pitch two years ago. It'd never failed to bring a smile to Jamie's face and filled his days with joy. It was Jack's centre, his reason for being a Guardian.
That, and sacrifice.
Sacrifice. The heaviest gift to give, the steepest price. Would he have still become Jack Frost if he hadn't given his life to save his sister's?
More importantly, did he deserve becoming a Guardian again? Jack went still, the thought an iron shroud. What if this 'being a cat' was all a test? Some twisted, horrible trial sent by the Moon?
No. Jack shook his head. He was past all that: he was a Guardian. This cat thing just turned everything on its side. Jack blearily looked at Pitch. The black cat hadn't moved from where he had curled up.
"For the last time, leave me alone!"
"You said you wanted to be alone? So be alone!"
Jack winced and looked away, the echoes of their last true encounter ringing in his ears. He shoved the memory away before the rest could unfold. It was always Antartica between them, the open wound neither acknowledged. A hard shiver took him from his thoughts, reminding him of more pressing concerns. He huddled as tight as he could, teeth chattering as he tried to will himself to sleep.
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Warmth. Jack sighed quietly, relishing the strange and wonderful sensation. It radiated all along his back and side like a heating pad. The deep chill from falling in the river was gone. He sleepily opened his eyes. Sunlight beamed down. Something moved against him and it took Jack a solid minute for his brain to realize he and Pitch were pressed together. The black cat was still curled tight, head buried under a fluffed tail, sides slowly moving. Jack didn't breathe as he peeled away, only slumping in relief when he was safely several feet away. The Boogeyman didn't so much as twitch. Jack thanked all the lucky stars neither Pitch nor the other Guardians had noticed.
Jack looked up. There was the aurora borealis, right on time. Maybe today we'll find the crystal. The thought carried no weight, but without the deathly chill in his bones the forest didn't seem so bad, the snow, not as threatening. Still in the strange optimistic mood, Jack gathered his courage and dared to prod Pitch. The other was a stone for all he reacted. When Jack jostled him harder Pitch curled tighter and growled.
Fine. Be that way. Jack wandered off, not to follow the borealis, but for the first time since waking up as a cat with the Guardians, simply to explore. The sun was bright and cool, sparkling on the new snow. Jack idly licked at some to quench his thirst, feeling more cat-like than ever. When he was done he sucked in the deepest breath he could and let it go, watching his breath steam in the air. The last time he'd seen his own breath was—Well, when I had brown hair and breathed, he thought with a smile that didn't quite touch his eyes.
As he stared into the barren forest he felt as if someone had scooped out all his insides and left him empty. He began to slowly walk back to the log. The last leaves clung to their skinny branches above him, their papery whispers filling the air. You'll fall one day, he suddenly thought to them. Pitch did. We almost did two years ago. And apparently we almost did again over a crystal. There was no anger, no pity, no triumph, only the strange same hollowness.
A loud rustle drew Jack from his thoughts. Pitch? Jack only waited a moment before a weasel stumbled out of the bushes. A dead rabbit hung in its jaws. Jack stared at the predator. It stared back. The wind turned and Jack caught the coppery tang of blood and oily weasel musk. The weasel eyed Jack once more before continuing its way, the rabbit dragging in the snow.
Jack suddenly stepped forward, puffing up to look bigger. The weasel let the rabbit go and grinned its bloody mouth at him, fur bristling as it took a dancing step closer. Jack rushed at it, hoping his bigger size would scare it off, but the weasel met him with swift viciousness, its teeth and claws scoring his neck and flanks even before Jack knew what was happening. Its attack hurt but Jack was ravenous. The Guardian tried to use his weight against the smaller predator as Pitch had against him, bearing down as he bit and clawed. But fighting the weasel was like fighting a greased eel, and soon Jack found himself outmatched. Its bites were getting closer and closer to his vulnerable throat, and Jack realized he was fighting for his life.
In desperation Jack lashed out and bit down as hard as he could on whatever he could reach. Small bones crunched in his mouth as one of its fore legs broke. Hot, salty blood spurted. The weasel redoubled its frenzied attack and Jack scrambled to get away. After several stumbles the snarling weasel gave up, broken leg dangling uselessly. Jack darted behind a tree. When he heard squealing he rushed out to see Pitch Black hovering over the weasel, the back of its neck in his jaws. Pitch dropped it seconds later. It flopped in the snow and didn't move.
Pitch! You didn't have to kill it! Jack tried to shout, hating the 'mrrowwww' that poured out instead.
Pitch coolly looked at the weasel's broken leg, then back at him. Jack pinned his ears and flushed.
It could've healed.
Pitch gave him a droll look.
Jack took a step forward, fur puffed. It could've.
The Boogeyman shrugged and made a show of licking a paw. Jack glared at him and tried to ignore the welling guilt. Though Pitch delivered the killing blow, he had started the fight. What would the others say when they found out? Jack looked down at himself. His white fur was covered in bleeding scratches. Tufts of it littered the ground. The deeper cuts began to throb. He bared his teeth, coals in his belly, but pushed the urge to make Pitch realize how ruthlessness was unnecessary. Wasn't it? The weasel could've survived a broken leg . . . couldn't it? Jack shook his head, hating the creeping doubt. It was too much to think Pitch may've done a kindness.
Hunger forced him towards the rabbit, and though Jack wished he could take back everything, he was relieved the moment he took his first bite. He ripped through the soft belly, lukewarm meat filling his mouth. He was beginning to eat in earnest when he noticed Pitch still sitting in place, tail slowly undulating.
Jack stopped chewing. Pitch stared, eyes half-lidded. Stay hungry, Jack thought, thinking of the weasel, and went back to eating. But after several more bites couldn't help but remember the half-eaten fish left by the river. His eating slowed. Pretending he was shifting into a more comfortable spot, Jack moved over. He forced himself not to react when he felt Pitch crouch next to him. Warmth radiated against his side.
The rabbit was gone in minutes, only tufts of fur and licked-clean bones left. Pitch went on to nibble the weasel, but soon left it untouched, lips bared in a grimace. Jack sat in a patch of cool sun, blinking against the sudden sleepiness of a full stomach. He half-heartedly tried to clean the blood off his fur, but unlike last time, felt no pressing need to do so. He glanced up to catch Pitch watching him with a strange expression on his face. It was wiped away a second later, but in that bare moment it almost seemed the Boogeyman had been pleased.
Jack pretended he hadn't seen it, too disturbed to wonder what it could mean, and focused on how he would apologize to Bunnymund later. He hated to think he'd develop a taste for rabbit after this.
Crows began to gather in the trees, the braver ones landing near the weasel carcass. Jack grimaced, for some reason reminded of Pitch's Nightmares. One began to eat the bloodied snow. When another started pecking at the body Jack had enough. He struck out towards the ever-present aurora borealis, hating the way the caws seemed to hound his steps. A quick glance behind him showed Pitch trailing behind, still licking his lips. The scene didn't make him so much as blink. Probably wouldn't make me either if I saw worst things, Jack thought. He suddenly realized he'd been staring when he noticed Pitch watching him with an expression that was more teeth than smile. Jack quickly shot his eyes forward and didn't back look again.
They kept walking through the day, stopping once near a small stream to quench their thirst. The young Guardian blinked at how easily he went to the water's edge. It was cold but refreshing. Why was I ever afraid, he thought as he peered into the depths. The bottom was bright and shallow. This was the type of stream Jamie and his friends would play in during the hot summer months. He smiled softly, thinking the boy would be probably drinking hot chocolate about now, or waiting for the season's first major snowstorm. He grimaced. Hopefully not soon.
Jack suddenly jerked his head up, nose filled with a thick, heavy musk. His fur exploded on end as a bear shuffled into view. He'd never felt so small as he did staring up at the bear. Its long claws scored the ground as it stood near the stream. Pitch crouched low, pupils swollen, his own fur on end. The bear swung its head their way, snuffling wetly at the air. Jack's gaze shot down at the unwashed rabbit's blood still across his mouth and chest and felt his own freeze.
Oh, crap.
The bear took a step forward, its sniffing more excited. Pitch shot off like a black bullet, racing for a nearby tree and scrambling up it. Startled, Jack rushed after him only to stop when falling scraps of bark stung his eyes. The young Guardian tried to keep climbing but was suddenly stricken with the mental image of the bear peeling him off the trunk and snapping him in two. Jack cursed and hid behind a bush as the bear neared. Its shaggy coat was thick and full, its beady eyes blinking slowly as it ambled over to the tree. Its breath reeked of sour fish. When it reached the base it stopped and peered up. Pitch bared needled teeth and hissed. The bear pushed itself up on its hind legs, snuffling. Pitch hissed again and retreated deeper on his branch. The bear stood taller.
"Mraww owwrr rrooowww!" Jack said, prancing and waving his tail. Over here!
The bear perked, its tiny black eyes glittering. It sniffed again and after a moment, shoved off the tree and ambled towards him.
Jack knew he couldn't outrun it but had to try anyway, belly stretching over the ground as he took flight. He could feel the vibrations as it lumbered after him. Jack didn't look back, sprinting as fast as he could, flashing through bushes and trees. He pushed himself to greater and greater speeds until the forest became a blur, until he didn't know where Jack the Guardian began and Jack the Cat ended. Pain faded. A great peace filled his mind. I was born to fly, he thought for no reason.
Jack Frost ran until he forgot his own name, until he forgot Pitch Black and the Guardians and the Man in the Moon and even Jamie Bennett. He ran until the very thought of running another step meant his heart would burst. Jack slowed to a crawl until he plopped down, every inch of him exhausted. The bear was gone. Pitch was gone. All what remained was him. Jack closed his eyes and breathed. When he finally reopened them in what felt like hours later, he looked down.
The second crystal was nestled in the snow, glowing a brilliant blue.
It took a long moment before Jack understood what he was seeing. When his heartbeat calmed enough so he could hear his thoughts, he leaned in. As he peered into the crystal's depths, he understood then why Pitch had fought so hard for it. It grants wishes, Jack realized, the last memory clicking in place. Any wish. A wish to destroy the Guardians for good, he thought, smiling as a only a cat could, neither happy nor sad. No wonder he wanted it so badly.
Jack took a shuddering breath, feeling something bubble inside him. When it grew too much he threw back his head and burst out laughing. He laughed until his sides cramped. A hollowness sat in his chest like a weight when he finally stopped. He stared at the crystal, hating how, for a brief moment in time, he wondered if this was how the Man in the Moon felt.
He pressed a paw to the crystal and made his wish.
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It was only after reuniting with the other Guardians and gathering at North's Globe Room did Jack learn Tooth had gotten her paw stuck in a hunter's trap and had been near death. It was almost hard to hear with everyone speaking over each other. Jack let them talk, content to listen. Maybe I get why Sandy doesn't speak, he thought. It felt weird using spoken language again. He half expected to meow when he opened his mouth.
North clapped Jack's shoulder and nearly sent him careening to the floor.
"I told them you would find crystal! Didn't I say it?" North said, his laughter booming across the Pole. Sandy made a show of covering his ears. "Ahaha, my belly was right!"
After the ringing in everyone's ears stopped, Bunnymund turned to Jack and said, "So, how did you make it? All four of us were having a tough time as it was. If it weren't for Sandy here, we all would've starved."
"I—well . . ." Jack rubbed the back of his head. "After I split up with you guys, I kinda met up with Pitch and we, uh, kinda traveled together—"
"Pitch Black?"
"What? That mangey dingo!"
"Pitch? You were you with him? He lured that coyote on you!"
Jack lifted both hands up and waited until the turbulence simmered down so he could say, "I mean, I didn't have much choice." I didn't have you guys, but thought better than saying it. He didn't like how tense his shoulders were. He forced himself to lounge across a chair, staff balanced across his knees.
"Ugh. I'm sorry, mate. That must've been rough," Bunnymund said.
"You've no idea," Jack muttered, and though the big rabbit's ears twitched, Jack was glad the Guardian of Hope didn't ask for followup details.
"I'm glad you're okay," Tooth said, fluttering close. Despite her right arm being healed she still cradled it to her chest. He glanced down at his arms where his own cuts were no longer there.
"Same to you," he said. His eyes lifted to hers. "I'm sorry I wasn't there, Tooth. It sounded like you went through hell."
Tooth waved and shook her head. A frown fell across her face as her voice grew quiet. "It was so weird. I mean, when I stepped in the trap—which was horrible—but then after, when the pain got really bad, I don't think I ever remember feeling that, that . . ."
"Mortal?" Jack said.
Tooth blinked, her wings stalling.
Jack subconsciously rubbed his throat and looked away. "You weren't the only one. "
"I guess we all went through our version of mortality," Tooth said quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder. Dimly Jack realized he didn't crave her warmth, not how he did in the cave the first night they were all cats.
"Now we are Big Five again," North said, stepping next to Tooth. Bunnymund and Sandy stood next to him and completed the circle. A bolt of inexplicable sadness shot through Jack. How long, he wondered, before each forgot the feeling of mortality? He looked over his shoulder at the massive Globe forever turning, its surface dotted with firefly lights.
"Hey, whatever happened to Pitch?" Bunnymund asked. The other Guardians perked.
"I dunno. I left him up a tree with a bear," Jack said lightly.
"Baha! Oh, crikey, I would've given my left foot to see that!" Bunnymund hooted. Jack smiled but didn't join the laughter.
When all the stories were swapped and night was beginning to darken against the windows, Sandy motioned he was leaving. The spell was broken and goodbyes were passed around. After one final farewell Tooth used North's portal to return to the Tooth Palace. Bunnymund offered Jack a tunnel back to Burgess. Jack declined, saying he could use a nice long flight to clear his head. As he was turning to fly out the main window a furry paw caught his elbow.
"Hey, Jack. If you ever want to talk about, uh, traveling with Pitch, y'know I'm here for you, right?" Bunnymund said, coughing into a fist.
"Awww, thanks Cottentail."
Bunnymund huffed, whiskers bristling. "I mean it. I know you didn't talk much tonight, and—and if you have stuff on your chest—"
"Thanks, Bunny," Jack said, smiling. "Really. I appreciate it."
This time when Jack went to leave, Bunnymund let him go. The skies were empty as he zoomed through the air, the moon not even a crescent in the sky. Stars glittered all around him as he hurtled towards Burgess. No matter how long he traveled the image of Tooth cradling her arm stayed him.
When Jack reached the outskirts of the town he didn't head towards Jamie's house but swerved and touched down in the nearby forest. Without the moonlight it was difficult to see the blasted old bed, but Jack knew it was there. It would always be there. He reached out to touch one of the bedposts. The wood was dry and brittle beneath his fingertips, and when he pulled them back, several stung from splinters.
Darkness greeted him as he dropped into Pitch's lair. The odor of a musty basement hit his nose. When his feet touched the dusty stones he picked a random direction and began to walk, not that directions seemed to matter in a place like this. Eerie gray light filtered through the Escher-esque rows of staircases that led to nowhere, motes of dust glinting in the nothingness. Jack paused in Pitch's Globe Room, both hands on his staff. Iron cages creaked above him. Where is he? Jack thought. He straightened. It felt like nothing had breathed in here for a long time.
He jumped when a dead fish slapped the stones at his feet.
"What, not hungry?" Pitch said as he melted from the shadows.
Jack pushed down the miasma of embarrassment and anger the Boogeyman always seemed to stir up. For some reason Pitch seemed taller than usual, more menacing. It was easy to remember Pitch only being a foot tall. Jack angled his body sideways for a speedy escape, his grip on his staff tight.
"Well, well, well, Jack Frost," Pitch said with a sneer. He stood in a patch of colourless light, sleek and sharp. "An unusual surprise. And alone, too—I thought you'd want to end me with your friends." His long hands furled into fists. "C'mon, then."
"That's not why I'm here."
"Then why are you?" Pitch growled, taking a heavy step closer. "It's done. You've won. Come to press my face in it?"
Jack retreated a step. "No, that's—"
"Then why." Pitch towered, teeth bared in an animal's snarl. "I thought you wanted to be left alone."
Jack hid a wince, took a breath, and said, "To say sorry."
Pitch went still. "What?"
"I'm sorry I can't give you want you want," Jack said. He lowered the staff. "I'm sorry I will never been the coldness to your darkness."
Pitch Black's upper lip curled as he straightened. His eyes narrowed. "Tch. Do you think any of the others could've done the things you had? You have the capacity for so more, if only you would just accept it. Such wasted potential."
"I will never be like you," Jack said quietly. "I don't want darkness, I don't want to scare kids. I hated the fear I felt when I was a cat. But . . . I can't deny what I did. Maybe you're right. Maybe you're wrong. It doesn't matter. I know who I am."
"Then you're useless to me," Pitch said, cutting a hand in the air and turning away. "If that's all, you should run back to your friends. I don't want your thanks."
"You could've let me die back there," Jack called after him.
"Believe me, I was tempted."
"But you didn't."
Pitch stopped just at the threshold, half in shadow.
"But I didn't." It was hard to read Pitch's tone. His back was turned. "And neither did you." Then he was gone, re-entering the darkness just as silently as he had appeared. As hard as Jack strained his eyes and ears, he couldn't hear a sound or sense a presence.
"You know the Man in the Moon stopped you, not us," Jack said to the wall of black. He stopped short of entering it. "If it weren't for him you would've won. And one day I think you will. When I was a cat everything became unclear, or clear. I'm, I'm not sure. Leaves die on trees but come back," he said. But only if the tree isn't dead already, a dark little voice whispered.
There was no response, not even a breath of air. For all Jack knew, Pitch was long gone and he was just talking to nothing. He looked down at the dead fish on the stones, its dull eye peering sightlessly upward. Jack was relieved to find he had no desire to eat it.
Jack left Pitch's lair and paused on the dirt mound. As he stood over the dark entrance a cold wind penetrated his hoodie. He didn't shiver. He huffed out a breath. No steam rose.
Jack Frost, Guardian of Fun, he thought. The sun was beginning to rise in the east. If he hurried it'd be breakfast time at the Bennett's household. With one last look at the broken bed frame, Jack kicked into the air and headed to Jamie.
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-fin-
