It was, Pitch would only admit to himself, not his best plan.
He grits his teeth as he paces one of the many gleaming balconies of the Tooth Palace. Getting here had gone so smoothly that he almost thought that fortune was on his side for once. The Queen had been called away for some reason and it had been all too easy to sweep the little fairies out of the way and clear the palace.
Now though, he found himself alone, trying to figure out how to gather the teeth, while his Nightmares swirled around the place, keeping the swarms of shrieking fairies out.
If Jack were here...
Pitch clenches his jaw and fists his hands until he can feel his bones creaking. He refuses think about that! He already allowed Frost to push him into acting rashly. Jack abandoned him. That was that. The only thing that changed was his current plan.
Which he really did need more Nightmares for.
He looks out at where his small herd is circling the palace and hisses under his breath when his eyes move to the massive tower lined with small shining boxes. This, he thinks, as he slips into a nearby shadow and steps out on the central tower, was probably the stupidest thing he had ever done.
Well, the execution of it anyway, the original plan was perfect. Flawless. It would have gone splendidly if-
But he wasn't thinking about that.
He storms down the walkway that wraps around the tower, eyeing the endless little doors with the bright smiling faces of countless children and their wonderful, bright, idiotic memories. He only has a limited time before the mother hen returns and he's not nearly strong enough to try and defeat her yet.
If he hadn't been so caught up in his own rage...if he had more Nightmares...
If he had Jack...
Pitch snarls, and clenches his hands. That doesn't matter. What matters is that he's now stuck trying to figure out how to get several billion boxes of teeth out on his own while his Nightmares fend off an increasingly loud swarm of sharp-beaked fairies. He could just leave, but at this point he feels like he has to at least TRY something.
He continues walking up the spiral and glowering at the teeth, shadows hissing around him. He needs to calm down, there are already a couple of Nightmares who've paused to eye him with too much interest.
He stops to get himself under control, runs his hands back through his hair and glares at the wall of faces like this is entirely their fault. Since when were there so many children? When were the humans allowed to BREED this much?
He lets out a low growl as his hands fist in his hair as he continues to stare at the endless smiling faces. He's ready to just pull out his scythe and go to town on the whole damn place when one of the faces catches his eye. It makes him go rigid and he has to force himself to move towards it, hands slowly lowering as he fixates on the simple image.
The colors are wrong, the hair and eyes are a dark, plain brown and skin a healthy glowing pink.
But there's that smile. He'd recognize that smile anywhere. Cocky and mischievous and paired with gleaming eyes.
Pitch stands in front of it for far longer than he should. His hands twitch at his sides.
He's unaware that he's even reaching for the little door until he's already opening it and pulling the small glittering container out.
He turns it carefully in his hands, fingers brushing over the jeweled top and running along the sides. He suddenly, desperately, wants to open it. Wants to see what's inside and wants to know for sure that it's who he thinks it is. He knows that only a fairy or the owner of the teeth can open it, but he still feels it over, half hoping that he'll find some seam or latch.
His thumb runs across a ridge, a change from the smooth carvings and he slowly turns the box. There's an engraving on the back and he breathes out slowly through his teeth when he reads it.
Jackson Overland Frost.
His fingers tighten on the box and he's not sure if he wants to throw it or put it back or...
He rubs his thumb over the name as he thinks. These are Jack's memories. He had actually been someone before. What had happened? Why would the Old Man wipe the boy's mind if he had had a past? Pitch simply was, he was fear and fear had no need for history. Fear simply existed, and so had Pitch. But Jack...
He glances at the moon, bright and staring down at him as always. "Sometimes, you are far more cruel than I could ever hope to be, old friend."
He pulls the box into the shadows of his robes, tucks it quietly next to a locket that he'll never open.
His hands twitch again, he's not quite sure what to do with them now so he folds them behind his back again, though he can't find the old rage. He's just...tired now. It's a familiar, sinking feeling that makes him want to find a dark, deep shadow somewhere small and curl up in it, lose himself in someone else's bad dream.
Really, he should have known this would happen. He had known it, at first. Jack was temporary, Jack would leave or Pitch would get rid of him and the distraction would be over. It had been foolish to believe otherwise, however briefly.
And just like that the anger rushes back, quieter now, coiling deep in his chest and making everything feel tight and clamped. He bares his teeth, reminds himself that he's not thinking about that.
He's here for a purpose and the boy was no longer here to distract him. Jack Frost wasn't worth wasting his thoughts on.
So he reaches for another box, still not sure what his plan is, when there's a faint whistling in the air.
"Ah, so there's the little bird." He smiles, pulls the shadows in close and lets them build around him. He may not be ready for her but he's certainly not going down without style. He's about to turn to laugh in her face when he's nearly knocked to the side by a bright burst.
"What-?" He manages to recover before he hits the ground and looks up.
Ice, there's ice covering up the painted door he was reaching for.
And he can't breathe, can't turn around fast enough. He almost falls again in his haste to look, to see if-
"Jack..."
It's Jack.
Jack, high above him, staring down with his staff still held in front of him from the blast of ice he had sent.
That he had sent at Pitch.
There's Jack and he's here and he shouldn't be here because he LEFT.
But he's here and flying next to Toothiana.
He's with her.
Against Pitch.
Jack is with Toothiana and they're both coming for him. Both gripping their weapons with faces drawn and determined and Jack it's Jack Jack is here and he's with HER and he left he can't be here!
Pitch has to take a shaking step back, has to stare because he can't understand. Jack is here.
Jack is with her.
Jack is with them. He left Pitch and then went and chose THEM.
The hissing starts quiet, grows steadily and quickly until he's screaming Jack's name, scythe in his hand before he can even think about drawing it.
Jack is with Tooth.
And Pitch is going to watch him bleed and scream.