North looked utterly baffled. "Why not? Pitch would have done that to you if I hadn't been here."
Jack shook his head. "No, North! That's not what he was trying to do. I was gonna help him find his kid and maybe even figure out a way for him to exist without harming us. But then YOU had to come in and kill him!"
North became comically surprised at Jack's anger. "Jack, Pitch is not good man. You know this. Why do you want to help him when he will not help you?"
"But how do we know Pitch was always a bad man? Maybe he wasn't always like this. Maybe he used to be good, like we are, until something happened to make him the way he is now. And I'm going to find out if he ever was. Right after I rescue him," Jack declared.
North and Jamie shouted at Jack, but Jack ignored them and dove at the flames, dousing them with blasts of snow and ice. He immediately located Pitch at the heart of the blaze, curled into a terrified black ball. Jack quickly grabbed the back of Pitch's cloak and pulled him to safety on the rooftop.
"Pitch! Are you all right?" Jack asked.
For several minutes, the only response from Pitch was persistent coughing. Jack tentatively patted Pitch on the back with his staff and waited for the boogeyman to stop. When the coughing finally subsided, Pitch glanced up at Jack with watery, smoke-filled eyes. Jack was relieved that Pitch's cloak had mostly protected him, but to his horror, Jack noticed a sickening red, grey, and black burn that seemed to expose sinew and bone to the night air.
Jack belched and clapped a hand to his mouth, swallowing hard to keep the bile from rising in his throat. He turned to North, unsure of what to do. "North, look at Pitch's leg. He's not gonna be able to stand. Should….should we take him back to the Pole? Maybe we can figure out how to take care of him," Jack asked.
Pitch glared and dragged his bad leg across the rooftop as he inched away from them. "Am I your little boogeyman now? Are you going to feed me broth and wipe my brow? Oh, how sweet of you. How considerate of you to want to care for me after years of ignoring me. Wonderful. But no matter. I may be weak, but I have enough strength to run from you and your sickening kindness. If you had wanted to help, you should have done so far sooner."
Smirking, Pitch forced himself to his feet and limped away from the watching eyes of Jamie, North, and a concerned Jack. A few moments later, however, Pitch's face twisted in pain, and he collapsed on the rooftop, groaning.
Jack leapt to Pitch's side and reached out his hand. "Pitch, are you okay?"
Pitch shoved Jack away from him, nearly knocking Jack off the roof. "I'm fine, Frost. Now leave me alone!" With a pained grin, Pitch melted into the shadows and disappeared from their sight.
Jamie looked to Jack for reassurance. "Is Pitch gone now?"
Jack patted Jamie on the shoulder. "Yeah, he's gone. Don't worry, kiddo. He's not coming back tonight."
Jamie didn't look convinced. "Are you sure? I mean, once his leg gets better, then-"
"Will not get better. Will only get better if he is believed in. And since no one believes him, then it won't heal until someone does," North interjected.
Jack stared out at the darkened streets as smoke began to dissipate in the air. "Then I'll be his first one."
….
Jack wondered just how badly Pitch was hurt. It had been three months since Pitch had started the fire in Burgess, and the Guardians hadn't seen any signs of him. They hadn't really had much time to look for Pitch, since they'd turned their attentions towards comforting kids in Burgess as the damage from the fire was repaired, as well as assisting children caught in other crises around the world.
Jack was proud of the good work they'd managed to accomplish without Pitch to harass them, but still, he couldn't help but be concerned for the welfare of the boogeyman. The Guardians' power was so strong that the legends of the boogeyman had died to only the faintest, unbelieved whispers around the world.
In fact, the Guardians themselves seemed to have pushed any memories of Pitch to the furthest corners of their minds. Several times, when he'd brought up the subject of Pitch, the Guardians had asked, "Who?" and Jack had had to remind them who Pitch was. If even the Guardians didn't believe in Pitch anymore, then it wouldn't be long before Pitch faded away for good. Jack had to act fast, or else there would be no boogeyman left to save.
Jack crept out the window and softly closed it behind him as he shook off his reverie. Thoughts of Pitch's gruesome wound had haunted him for nights to the point where he found it difficult to sleep. Thoughts of Pitch's daughter had also swirled around in his mind like autumn leaves. He thought he'd heard the Guardians mention Pitch's kid before, but he didn't know very much about her. Was she even still alive? Or, like Jack's sister, had Pitch left his daughter behind as he'd joined the world of immortal beings? Perhaps she was the key to Pitch's salvation. If only he knew her name, then maybe he could find her and reunite her with Pitch.
Now was the time to hunt for Pitch, when North and all his little helpers at the Pole were all fast asleep. North wasn't usually too bothered when Jack went on excursions at night-North knew that Jack wasn't really accustomed to sleeping in a bed and often preferred to settle down for the night on the roof or a tree in Burgess. Hopefully, North wouldn't get up in the night and wonder what Jack was up to. Jack was sure that North would chase after him if he even so much as suspected that Jack was looking for Pitch.
It didn't take long for Jack to fly to Burgess with the help of the wind. Once there, he headed straight for the woods where Pitch's lair was located. The entrance to the lair was still plugged, but Jack could've sworn that a faint swirl of nightmare sand danced in the air around it. Jack reached out to touch it, but the sand immediately crumpled into nothingness.
What if Pitch is gone too? Maybe this is all that's left of him, Jack wondered. Maybe it was too late. If he hadn't been so preoccupied with helping out the Guardians, maybe he could've done something. Panicked, he yelled out, "PITCH! PITCH! If you're out there, say something! Please! Anything!"
His words echoed off the trees around him. He called again, but once more, his echoes were the only voice he heard. He waited a few moments for Pitch to appear, but the wind merely rustled through the trees.
I'm too late. Dejected, Jack climbed to the top of a tree, pulled his hood up over his face, and buried his head in his hands. He should've been happy. The sworn enemy of the Guardians was gone for good. No longer would they have to worry about the minis being kidnapped, or nightmare sand killing Sandy, or children being turned into Nightmare Men, or Pitch convincing Jack to join him. The Guardians were free to do as they pleased and devote all their time to protecting and bringing joy to children. Everything was as it should be. Jack had no reason to be sad.
And yet….Jack couldn't help but feel sorry for Pitch. Pitch had become nothing but dust. If a few more hundred years had passed, Jack would have been dust, too. Sandy had once described how death was a void not unlike a black hole when Jack had asked him what had happened when Pitch had killed him. The description had terrified Jack for ages, and Jack felt a chill run through him when he realized that Pitch was now in that void and would never be able to come back from it. It wasn't enough for Jack to believe in him-Pitch needed real, human believers, too. But how would anyone believe in the boogeyman again when even the Guardians had started to forget his existence?
I sent him there. No, we all did. Pitch was right. The Guardians are a lie. How can we call ourselves protectors if we have to kill in order to keep kids safe? Try as he might, Jack couldn't come up with a good answer.
"Frost?" a familiar seductive voice called out.
Jack almost jumped out of the tree. Was he imagining that voice?
"P-P-Pitch?" he stuttered.
"Of COURSE it's me, Frost," Pitch snarled. "Did you forget I existed altogether? Or are you merely trying to get out of continuing our little talk?"
Pitch moved out of the shadows, and Jack was able to see that the hideous burn on Pitch's leg had been wrapped in a piece of leather, torn from the boogeyman's coat. Pitch was leaning on his scythe like a walking stick, and since he was no longer wearing the cloak that had protected him from the fire, Jack noticed that a couple of smaller burns wound their way around Pitch's face like twisted snakes. The boogeyman looked so weary and frail that Jack wondered how Pitch was even able to remain upright.
"Pitch, look, I'm sorry. I didn't want to have North push you off the roof," Jack apologized.
"It's too late, Frost. Your apologies are quite touching, but the fact remains that I am grievously wounded and since nobody believes in me anymore, it shall not be long before I pass on to the next world," Pitch growled. "Do you still want to save me, or have you given up like all the rest of those vile Guardians?"
"I-I didn't give up. We've been busy. I didn't even know if you were alive," Jack said. "If….if you want to talk, I'm listening. I don't know what I can do, but if maybe I can figure out something for you to do that will make people believe in you or even help you find your daughter-"
Pitch's eyes flashed with angry fire at the mention of his child. "JACK, NO! You don't know what she's like! She only sees me as a monster. She believes that I never bothered to look for her all these years because I never really loved her. She can't possibly imagine all the suffering I've been through since I became who I am now! There's nothing you can do about her, Jack. She will give me no more second chances and I advise that you don't, either."
Jack sat silently for a moment. He didn't want to push Pitch any further; the last thing he wanted was to wind up in a coma again because he said something that made Pitch attack him. But he could clearly see the pain in Pitch's eyes-a pain he himself knew well. How could he let someone else suffer like that without even attempting to erase their agony, even if that someone was as black-hearted as Pitch?
"Okay, okay, I get it. Family issues. But what if there was a way you could be seen again? You could help out with Halloween, or you could help people have fun at horror movies, or-"
Pitch rolled his eyes. "Jack, I hate Halloween precisely because it's the only time when people are allowed to be afraid other than at atrocious so-called 'horror' films. People should be afraid all the time, Jack. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Why restrict it only to certain times of the year?"
Jack scratched his head. Pitch was being a bit ungrateful, but he did have some good points. "Fine. Halloween and horror movies are out of the question. Maybe you could, I don't know, just keep kids safe without trying to kill us every couple of centuries? Sounds like a fair deal to me…"
Pitch raised a nonexistent eyebrow. "I shall think on that. I can't promise that I won't want to kill you in the near future, but I must admit that your offer is tempting." With that, Pitch limped towards the sealed exit of his old lair and began frantically digging at the ground. Clods of dirt flew all over the place, and more than a few managed to smack Jack right in the face.
"Great. I give him a way to exist, and he says he might kill me," Jack muttered under his breath as he brushed dirt off his face. Blinking, he realized that Pitch had managed to reopen the entrance to his lair and was slinking beneath the surface. Jack landed next to the entrance and leaned over it, calling, "Hey, don't run away so-WHOAAA!"
Jack's foot slipped on a stone, and before he knew it, he was falling head over heels into Pitch's lair. The eerie stone walls flashed past him in a blur as he tumbled through what felt like endless tunnels of darkness until he landed in a heap on some stairs.
Groaning, Jack took a few moments to scan himself over and wonder just how many bruises he'd gotten before he staggered to his feet and tried to look for Pitch. It had been so long since Jack had been in Pitch's lair that he'd forgotten how confusing it was, with all its twisting corridors and stone staircases and floors that could flip into walls at a moment's notice.
Dazed, Jack wandered around the lair, shuddering at the fairy cages as he listened for Pitch's voice. Just as Jack was stepping around Pitch's globe and beginning to give up on ever finding Pitch, the softest sigh drifted into his ear. It wasn't a sound that Jack knew well, but since he was the only other person in the lair, he knew it must be from Pitch. Cocking his head, Jack headed towards the general direction of the sigh and was quickly greeted by another one.
"Huh," Jack muttered. Propelling himself off the walls and swinging onto the top of a nearby railing, Jack looked down and saw a sight that made chills run up and down his spine. A great black ship, tattered and torn, loomed out of wisps of nightmare sand that floated through the lair like mist. At the bow of the great vessel was Pitch himself, staring off into the distance as if searching for distant horizons. Pitch was not wearing his usual coat, but a beautifully elaborate one that evoked images of pirates and war generals. As Pitch gazed into the distance, Jack swore that a single tear fell down Pitch's face and dropped into the nightmare sand mists below.
Moved by the sight, Jack continued to stare, wondering what on Earth this all meant. Was Pitch a pirate in a past life? Was this his ship? Or was Pitch simply fond of shipwrecks? Jack wasn't totally sure of why these things were in the lair, but perhaps they were a clue to Pitch's past.
Jack leaned closer, straining to make out more details of the strangely sentimental scene. Pitch quietly removed a gleaming golden locket from a pocket in the coat and opened it up to reveal the face of a young girl with long jet-black hair.
Another tear fell from Pitch's face as he stroked the image. "I'm so sorry, Emily Jane. I would have searched all the world over if only I had remembered," Pitch whispered.
Jack scrunched his brow. "Emily Jane? Is that his daughter's name?" he murmured. The name sounded vaguely familiar to him, but he wasn't sure why. Maybe if I get just a tiny bit closer, I'll find something else that will help me make sense of all this. Jack began to climb down the wall he was perched on, hoping to sneak up close to Pitch and watch from a safe distance.
As luck would have it, though, Jack's foot slipped, and he fell feet-first onto the hard stone floor below. A loud crack and blinding pain froze Jack to the spot, and a loud howl let Pitch immediately know who had been spying on him. Jack cowered, clutching a foot as Pitch strode towards him, glowering like a stormcloud.
"L-look, Pitch, I'm sorry; I never meant to intrude on your-"Jack began, but he never got to finish his sentence, because Pitch clapped a hand over his mouth before he could do so.
Jack stared up at Pitch, terrified and uncertain as to what would happen next. Would Pitch kill him? Would he let Jack go? Or did he have even worse plans in store for him?
Pitch's words slipped from his mouth like deadly molasses. "You're staying with me, Frost."