.
"He turned away to give them time to pull themselves together; and waited, allowing his eyes to rest on the trim cruiser in the distance."
—William Golding, Lord of the Flies
.
.
.s.
.
It's not possible, Jack thought.
There was no way today was hotter than yesterday. But it was. By the time mid-morning trampled in like a steamroller, he kept checking his extremities to make sure they weren't melting. Soaking up the ground's coolness helped, but it was no cure. Using his magic to combat the heat was a deadly risk. He tried once and an ice shard almost skewered his stomach. Only his reflexes kept him from becoming shish kabob.
His power, now merged with Pitch's, had no master. It bit and twisted at his fingertips like a rabid animal, eager to hurt, and Jack finally relented. Until Pitch was out of his head, there'd be no magic, nope, none at all. The young Guardian sighed for the sixth time in as many minutes, listening to the piercing whistles of the cicadas filling the air outside the cave. How overwhelmingly summer.
He didn't like it. It was too hot, and Jamie was out there, waiting for him.
Jack rolled to his feet, bounced there for a moment, then stood up.
"What are you doing?"
"Ugh. I can't stay here." He headed towards the entrance, already bracing himself for the fierce sunlight.
"Still unable to follow directions, Frost? Your little friends told you to stay by my body."
"Relax. It won't be for long," Jack said as he stood in the open, grimacing at the sun dappling all around him. It was the quintessential summer's day, miserable with humidity and gorgeous with sunshine. The sky above was almost grey with haze. "It's not like anybody can see you anyway."
Pitch clammed up as if slapped.
Jack shoved the twinge of guilty as he launched himself in the air. The summer wind was uncooperative and mulish, but the young Guardian managed to convince it to bring him to Jamie. The world rushed past him as he hurtled by the forests and fields below. Normally flying brought him joy. He'd do loop-de-loops and pull stunts that made Bunny tear his fur out. But as he flew and the morose sulking continued to progress, the guilt wouldn't fade.
"Look, Pitch, I didn't mean it like that."
"Of course you did," Pitch said, stiff and bitter. "You all won. I lost. You have what you want. Please, continue to caper about victorious and leave me alone."
At this point Jack landed in a massive oak tree, right in Burgess Park. A small river burbled beneath him, chortling as if at some mysterious joke. It was still swollen from yesterday night's storm, its waters wrapping around the rounded stones. One part was thicker than the others, forming a natural pool where the current slowed and its depth deepened. The water was bright gold, flashing every so often with the sun's reflection.
There were no children yet, but the young Guardian knew they'd be around soon enough. On a hot day like this? Absolutely. Jamie called it 'Sucker's Hole,' and it was a favorite place for the gang. Only one rule. Don't tell anyone about it, Jamie had said to Jack in conspiratorial tones. Which, of course, never worked. Kids always managed to find out about Sucker's Hole.
"Thought the dark was kinda your thing," Jack said, scanning the surrounding area for the boy. "You don't like it?"
The essence in his head grew tense, like a coil being compressed."Thank you, Frost, for your astounding powers of observation."
With a horrible chill Jack realized he left his only bargaining chip behind if the Boogeyman went crazy again. He tried to backpedal. "No, wait, Pitch—"
"Oh no, no, allow me. You think I want to be in the dark because I hide under beds? I'm tired of shadows. You think skulking about like a half-forgotten nightmare is what I want? You child. I was a god in the Dark Ages. Do you understand, Frost? A god. I walked broadly and everyone knew me, feared me! I was royalty, I was . . . magnificent."
Pitch's voice hitched, twisting with a wistful yearning that hurt to hear. A dethroned king, Jack thought before he could stop himself, and froze when the Boogeyman tensed again, ugly and cold. He held his breath as Pitch regarded him, waiting for the dark spirit to snap, attack, anything. To his relief, the Boogeyman continued as if the moment never happened, tone clipped with frustration.
"Tch! As if you could comprehend any of what I'd just said. Even if you live your lifetime a hundred times you wouldn't even come close to the length of my existence. So do me a favor and keep your pity to yourself, or at least, keep your mouth shut on subjects you can't begin to understand."
Jack braced himself against the tree. He kept his voice low, as if to avoid spooking a vicious animal. He didn't know what possessed him to keep conversing with the Nightmare King, especially when he was powerless to stop another assault, but he just had to say, "You're wrong, Pitch. I may not know about being a god, or having power, or being super old, but I do know where you're coming from."
"How could you possibly know? I was replaced," Pitch said, bringing his teeth into it. "How would you feel if some cretin came along and usurped your position?"
"Yeah, the Moon's a jerk," the immortal teenager said, perhaps with more feeling than he should've. "But Pitch, you can't have it both ways. You realize the Dark Ages couldn't've lasted forever. The world needs Bunny and Tooth and the others. People can't be afraid all of the time."
"Humans need fear to keep them in line. The sooner you Guardians understand that, the better. I do. I've been around long enough to know them, and let me tell you one thing: you underestimate them. You think they're all mushy goodness? Wrong. They love their fear and hatred more than anything. Humans hate because they fear. Their history books are dripping with examples. Why do you think they fight each other so much? How do you account for all their wars? Never underestimate a human's capacity for fear, Jack. Never."
Jack was getting tired of the old song-and-dance. There was more to the world than wars, anyway. What about all the kindness in the world? All the selfless acts? Pitch was only offering a skewed version of humanity, warping the truth so it would suit him. Jack brought a little heat into his next question as he leaned into it.
"How about you, huh? You say you know humans pretty well—what about yourself? What have you learned about Pitch Black?"
He could sense Pitch smiling. It was a terrible sensation."Aaaah, so quick to judge. Yet, if I do recall, even after three hundred years you were no closer to discovering yourself. It was only after you had help from your newfound friends did you realize you could be."
While you had nobody, Jack thought in a knee-jerk reaction.
Pitch bristled. "What was that?"
"Nothing."
The Nightmare King made a sound of deep disgust."Pah! None of this matters, anyway. You're not the one without a body."
Jack leaned back. He knew they weren't talking about the Boogeyman's non-corporeal status, but sensed it was time to shut up. No repeat performances like in the cave, thankyouverymuch.
As if in nonchalant afterthought, Pitch's voice said, "I suppose it would do me no service to drive you mad. As entertaining as it would be, all your faculties are needed to return to my body."
Before Jack could reply with a sarcastic Gee, thanks, how thoughtful of you, a boy's voice rang clear.
"Hey! That's Jack! Jack Frost!"
Jack started and looked down from his perch. It was Jamie and his steadfast gang, dressed in swimsuits. A huge grin was scrawled across the boy's face, and Jack felt a matching one blossom across his own. The familiar thrill He sees me shot through the immortal teenager like electricity, tingling at his fingertips. He sees me. Even after a year, it still took him off guard at how awesome recognition looked in Jamie's eyes, how the boy's entire face seemed to glow. Knowing he was the cause of such happiness was enough to choke the young Guardian. There was no greater feeling in the world. None. Sometimes Jack wanted to drown in it.
The young Guardian was about to hop down to greet them when a surge of hatreddarknesswhywhywhyrage punched him. Jack had to lean against the trunk and clutched the front of his hoodie, gasping. He quickly curled around and ducked out of view.
"Jeeze, Pitch? What's with you?"Jack hissed. He struggled to catch his breath."Chill out!"
The dark spirit said nothing, but continued to storm. The Guardian's stomach flip-flopped as he fought the nausea down.
"Jack? Hey, you there?"
"Where is he?"
"I swear I just saw'm."
"Can you see him?"
Jack took a deep breath, counted to six, then leapt down the tree. He pasted his most disarming smile as he said, "Hey, guys, what's cooking? Oh, wait, that'd be all of you."
A chorus of young laughter greeted him. Some of Jack's unease melted away, though his stomach still continued to drop as if he were riding a roller-coaster. Pitch, stop it! he thought one more time before the kids converged on him. Within seconds he was bombarded with demands for snow.
"Snow forts! Please, Jack, it's just so hot!"
"Snowball fight!"
"Snow! Snow! Snow!"
Jack's smile faltered. Within seconds he imagined everything covered in ice spears, translucent and razor-sharp. His heart skipped as fear flooded through him. If he hurt any of them, gave them even a single scrape . . . Pitch pressed against him like a dog straining at its leash, eager to maul and hurt.
"Why don't we do something else?" Jack said, trying to keep his voice light.
The six kids stared at him like he grew a tail.
"But you always make snow on days like this," Clyde said, appalled. "C'mon, man, we're dying here!"
But Jack was firm. His corrupted magic twisted and nipped at his fingers, eager to create chaos. "Sorry, guys. No snow today."
The previous chorus of happiness turned to groans of disappointment. "Aww, no fun."
And it happened. It was tiny, hardly worthy of note, but Jack felt it. The oddest feeling of transparency washed over him, as though substance had been sucked out of him, like he was missing a stability he'd taken for granted. He struggled to hide his panic.
"Whoa, whoa, hey, that's a bit hasty, don't you think? C'mon, I'm sure there's lots to do without snow right now," Jack said.
"It's just so hot!"
"Let's go swimming!" Pippa suggested. "We're dressed for it, anyway."
"But we went swimming three days in a row. I'm bored of swimming," Caleb said.
"Got any better ideas?" Cupcake replied, rounding on him.
"Jack was the better idea," Clyde grumbled.
"Well, it'll beat standing in front of the fridge sweating and arguing about it," Jamie said, mimicking a tone North sometimes used to bring bickering Guardians to heel. "Let's go."
It struck Jack how Jamie would be a leader one day, if he wasn't already. There was no more grumbling after that. The troupe made their way towards the river, Pippa and Monty leading, though Monty kept complaining about how goopy the sunscreen was on his skin. The twins and Cupcake were quick to follow, leaping like sure-footed goats over the rocks as they headed for the best swimming spot. Clyde howled No fair! as Cupcake was the first to cannonball into the golden depths.
Before Jamie could join his friends, Jack pulled him aside. Without acting patronizing, the young Guardian crouched down to the boy's level and said, "Hey, thanks for that back there."
"Totally no problem," Jamie said.
Hatehatehateicouldhavehaditallwhywhyragewhyyyyyyyyyy
Jack had to physically look away to fight the sickness in his stomach. The urge to terrify Jamie was overwhelming. He felt a small hot hand grip his forearm.
"Jack? You okay?"
"Ye-yeah, it's—"
"If you tell, he'll fear you." Pitch's voice was soft and implacable. The dark spirit's words echoed in his head, resonating with eerie precision on the young Guardian's secret fears.
Jack covered up his hesitation with another plastered smile, one Jamie didn't seem to be buying. "It's nothing. Just a headache."
"You sick?" Jamie asked, brows pulling together. The worry in the boy's voice made Jack's stomach flip-flop for a different reason.
"Kinda. Don't worry about it, kiddo. It's the heat."
Jamie gave Jack a long, searching look, similar to the one Sandy gave him last night. Jack made a shoo'ing gesture. "Go on, go on, join your friends. I'll, I'll see you later. I'll be fine, I promise."
Jamie nodded, hesitating. He was about to join the others when he asked, "Hey, we still on for tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow? You made more plans with this little—?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, kiddo."
With one last look, Jamie relented, turning away. Jack made sure the boy was preoccupied with his friends before fleeing, escaping into the trees. Despite what had happened, the immortal teenager couldn't bring himself to return to the cave. He leapt from branch to branch until the sounds of laughter and splashing were long gone. Finally Jack found a massive horse chestnut tree. It stood in the middle of a field, the only tree around. Its canopy was so wide and thick that once he entered the leafy barrier, he was instantly hidden in a green world. Even the wind felt miles away. Encased in the leaf cocoon, it was hard to imagine anything else existing.
Jack instantly rounded on the dark spirit in his head. "What the hell happened back there?"
"You're a Guardian now, Jack," Pitch said in a silken purr. "Same rules apply. You don't entertain the little cretins? You fade away."
"I don't see why you're so smug," Jack said between gritted teeth. "I disappear, you do too."
Pitch didn't respond, but Jack still got the sense the Boogeyman was inordinately pleased.
"But that wasn't what I was talking about. That horrible feeling. What was that?"
"What can I say?" Pitch sounded like he was brushing dust off his shoulders. "They get under my skin."
"'Under your skin'?" Jack wanted to laugh and scream at the same time. He scrubbed his face instead. "Pitch. You have some serious anger issues to work out."
Pitch's essence tensed. "Can you blame me? That child was the reason I failed."
"Ha ha, nooooo, you failed because your plan wasn't going to work in the first place. The Dark Ages aren't gonna happen again."
"They will," Pitch said with unsettling conviction. "Maybe not now, thanks to you lot, but the Dark Ages will return."
Jack snorted. As if.
"You think I'm joking?" the voice said. Jack struggled not to shudder as the Boogeyman's cold essence brushed up against his skull. "You think the world will always be a happy place?"
"Oh, not this talk again, please. I don't care—"
"Of course you don't care. You're the Guardian of Fun," Pitch said, spitting the word like a curse. "You're more than happy to believe in the goodness of everything. Being a Guardian has made you soft. Have you forgiven the Moon for what he did to you? Have you already forgotten the three hundred of years of solitude you've suffered? Have you forgotten what it feels like to be cast out? Ignored? Because one day it will happen again. All your little friends will grow old and die, and the famous Jack Frost will fade away like I have, and you will once again be alone. I see it, you know." Jack kept himself very still, head ringing from the Boogeyman's hissing. He was back in Pitch's lair all over again, powerless to stop the onslaught of words.
"Your fear is everywhere. You're afraid this is all an elaborate hoax, that one day your precious Jamie won't see you. That you being a Guardian is but a passing fancy, that—"
"That's enough, Pitch," Jack said. For whatever the reason, the other did. The immortal teenager took the chance to say, "Yeah, I am scared. It's crazy to think I'm a Guardian after all I've been through. Yeah, I'm afraid of losing Jamie. I'm pretty sure I might never grow out of it. But you know what? So what. I don't let fear rule me. And neither should you."
Pitch barked a laugh."Oh-hoh? Me? Ruled by fear? Ha! I am fear."
"No, you dealin fear," Jack said, steadying himself on a branch. "But you're afraid too."
There was a sharp sting of pain as Pitch dug his metaphysical claws into Jack's mind. The young Guardian was miles away from his one defense, utterly at the Boogeyman's mercy. He braced for the attack he knew would come, wincing.
The grip tightened indiscernibly, teasing. "It would be so easy to snap your mind right now. Like bending a fishbone," the dark spirit said with a chill that never left his voice. But after a long moment, the claws withdrew. "I meant what I said. It wouldn't serve me to destroy you."
Jack's relaxing was like the melting of a glacier. Slowly, drop by drop, he slumped against the tree. He rested his staff on a nearby branch, then stretched a leg out and brought the other knee to his chest. Jack leaned his head back and looked up at the million places where the sun leaked through the green canopy. Every time the wind came through the spaces would change, giving the tree the impression it was swaying. Maybe it was the combination of what happened with Jamie's friends, the conversations with Pitch, and the sleepy, green universe he was in right now, because for whatever the reason, he said,
"You're right."
"What?"
"I wasn't honest before," Jack said. He didn't know where all this confessional feeling was coming from. This was Pitch, sworn enemy of the Guardians. Enemy? No, more like opposite force. And as Jack slouched in the horse chestnut tree, hot and tired, he realized Pitch was no more evil than a storm or tempest. A necessary evil, if evil was the right word for it. Why was he confessing to Pitch? The Boogeyman had tried to leave him brain dead yesterday, and before that, almost destroyed the Guardians.
Given his way, the Nightmare King would cover the world in darkness just so he could be the lord of the shadows once again. Perhaps it was due to the non-existent space between them. It seemed almost natural for confessions to occur. Pitch himself seemed far more chatty than he'd been for the past twenty hours. Jack wondered if he'd ever be as close to another living creature as he was now with the Boogeyman.
"I do care. And I think you're right. Well, maybe not about the actual Dark Ages, but the idea of it. You. Us. The Guardians." Jack swallowed, then shouldered through. "Jamie."
"Don't play coy, Frost. It doesn't suit you."
"I'm not. I'm being serious."
Pitch scoffed. "You're one of the 'Big Five' now, Frost. You'll say anything to convince me otherwise."
But even as the dark spirit said that, Jack couldn't help but hear a note of hesitation. He understood then Pitch wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust. Even after all of what they've been through, Pitch was still in Antarctica, desperate for an ally, a friend. We will never move past Antarctica, Jack thought, fully aware Pitch could hear him, but didn't care. The young Guardian got the unmistakable sense Pitch was frowning at him.
"It'll happen to us too," Jack said, still caught in the strange, introspective mood. "We won't always win. Kids'll grow up. Summer always comes back."
He could feel Pitch staring at him. It was like being under a microscope.
"You're telling the truth." The voice was expressionless.
"Yup,"Jack said, popping the 'p.'
The Nightmare King said nothing. No discernible emotion leaked tried to decipher the confusion that was the Boogeyman's mental state, but it was like trying to translate a language utterly foreign to his own.
"May we go back to my body now?"
Jack closed his eyes. "Sure. Why not."
.
.s.
.
It was night. A cacophony of crickets filled the fields. The sky above abnormally clear. Stars blanketed the dome in white brilliance, numbered in the thousands. Jack Frost looked on. He remembered hating the nightly reminder of the Moon's silence, how every single night he looked in yearning. He always thought Maybe this time the Moon'll tell me who I am, right before the crippling disappointment. Now everything was changed. Now I'm a Guardian.
Though it'd been a year now, it was still strange to look up, not in anger and bitterness, but with acceptance. A darker thought nestled in his mind, perhaps stained by Pitch's influence. Today was the first time he experienced the downside of being a protector of children. It was one thing to see the other Guardians suffer, but himself? He'd felt the barest taste today at the stream, hardly more than a wrinkle, yet even now he couldn't get it out of his head. He'd seen what it had done to the others when Pitch unleashed his assault, and the tiny quiver of apprehension was enough to ruin his star-gazing.
Jack heard North's approach before he saw him. Starlight glinted off his sleigh as the reindeer skidded to a halt in the nearby field, legs stiff as they plowed furrows in the soft earth. Jack could hear the burly Guardian mutter Russian praises as he tossed the reins aside, the sleigh creaking as he descended. Jack lifted a hand in greeting, and soon found the other sitting besides him.
"How goes it, Jack?" North asked, voice miles away from his normal booming tones. Against the white sky he was nothing but a silhouette, features too dark to make out.
Jack regarded his friend from beneath his hood. "Dude. You seriously wearing a fur coat?"
"Bah! It still winter in the Pole. Here is just . . . inconvenience." North clucked his tongue. "Ah, sorry. You must be feeling the heat. Why don't you make snow?"
Ah, yes. The moment Jack had been dreading since the morning. He opened his mouth, fully prepared to repeat his performance to Bunnymund. What came out, though, was nowhere close. Sitting in the dark, hidden by both his hoodie and the night, Jack found it easy to tell the truth. The whole truth. He started with how his powers had merged with Pitch's and couldn't be controlled, how he almost stabbed himself trying to make a snowball. Jack found himself relaying the events by the stream. By the end he was staring at his hands, seeing nothing.
"I can't get their faces out of my head, North. They were so disappointed. I've never been so un-fun to them before."
"You are too hard on yourself. In week's time they'll forget whole thing," North said, not unkindly. "Children like that."
"It was horrible." He looked at North with a new respect. Even after Pitch had done, no matter how demoralized they were, they were prepared to go down with a fight. Jack pressed his lips together, sobering from the romanticized heroism. North was as weak as an old man. Tooth, flightless. Sandy, dead, and Bunny nothing but a fluff ball. How could they not lose hope after something like that? If that happened to him, would he have acted the same? For a tiny, terrible moment, he resented the fickleness of children.
"Pitch says it will happen again," Jack said.
North shrugged with surprising nonchalance. "Pitch says many things. It is hard to say what will eventually happen. Ha! I know this, though. He will have to try much harder next time!"
"Oh, I mean to," Pitch said with dark promise. Jack shuddered.
"You see, Pitch is not wrong, but not right, either," North continued. "He sees only small picture, not whole one. His eyes only see the darkness in all of us. But there is happiness, Jack. Love, warmth, friendship. Wonder. Hope. Pitch understands none of these things."
"I understand perfectly, you giant windbag," Pitch snapped. "It's you who thinks there's goodness in everyone. Was there goodness in Ratko Mladic? Oskar Dirlewanger? Ilse Koch? I could go on till your little head spun. Ask him. Ask him if there was love and warmth in any of them."
Jack licked his lips, torn between asking and remaining silent. Curiosity won. "But then how can you explain all the bad things people do?" he asked. "I mean, Pitch kinda makes a good point. With human history, for example. It's pretty bleak stuff."
North chuckled, patting the younger Guardian on the back without being patronizing. There was no judgment or condemnation in the burly spirit's voice, only a warm patience. "What Pitch shows you is a world where cruelty is before kindness. But he's wrong. Don't you see? The Boogeyman has twisted and suppressed all that is good inside him. He cannot see kindness and empathy are essential to life. To your life, to all life! Why would humanity evolve without it? Where would they be without compassion? Joy? The world would fall apart without it, Jack. Remember this."
Jack hummed in a vague agreement. He was beginning to feel stuck in the middle of an argument between two legends.
"What if this is permanent?" he asked again, perhaps a little too loudly. "What if I can't get Pitch outta my head? What if I can't use my powers anymore and I—" Become invisible again, he was going to say, but choked, "—disappear," he finished, hoping North didn't pick up on the hitch. Luckily, the moment was too subtle for the Guardian of Wonder, because he plowed on with a hearty:
"No, no, no. You think such dark things, Jack. We will find a way to get you back. I feel it! In my belly."
"Have you found anything yet?"
"Na! I was bit of thief many years ago. We have lots of books to look through. But I feel we nearing end."
"Thanks, North."
"Anytime, Jack," the other said, and the warmth in his voice was palpable. "We're here for you. You are no longer alone."
"Feels good to hear it," Jack said over the sounds of Pitch fake-gagging. Stop it, he thought.
"How can I? You're taking advice from a creature who has no concept of love."
"No concept of—" Jack shut up so quickly he almost amputated his tongue.
"Hm? You say something?"
"What? No, no, nothing," the immortal teenager said. In the privacy in his mind, he said to Pitch, All you've done is thrown me a couple of names of I'm sure supremely bad people. And what do you mean, 'No concept of love'? The guy is pretty much one huge teddy bear. Are you saying I should take your advice on love? You? Pitch, have you ever loved anything in your entire life?
"Careful, Frost," Pitch said. Claws pricked the young Guardian's mind.
Jack winced and said nothing, focusing in on North, who hadn't stopped talking.
". . . to go, but know we will find the answer soon."
"Oh?" Jack stood up and pulled back his hood, even though in the darkness it meant little. "You're leaving now?"
The young Guardian felt the heavy weight of North's hand on his shoulder. The other was a furnace compared to the winter spirit, and as much as Jack appreciated the gesture, he was relieved when the hand was removed.
"All this will be over soon," North said, and Jack could hear his friend's smile. "Trust your belly. And remember. If anything happens, use globe."
Then the Guardian of Wonder was moving back to the sleigh, his cape making slithery noises as it dragged over the grass. As with the first time with Bunnymund and Sandy, Jack watched until North was gone, struggling with the ingrained anxiety of abandonment. In the silence which followed, Pitch snorted.
"A creature who has no concept of hatred won't have a clue about love."
Emboldened by what Pitch had said earlier, Jack snorted back. "Uh, Pitch? Reality check. All you know about is hate."
Pitch coiled, pressing against the young Guardian's skull. "Shows you what you know," came the bitter reply, and no matter how much Jack prodded for clarification, the Nightmare King remained an unapproachable force for the rest of the night.
…
TBC