North was surprised when Pitch Black came to the Pole, demanding to be let in on account that he had something the big man wanted. Wary as he was of the Nightmare King even though Pitch had been rather different for some odd reason of late, North saw desperation as a valid reason to admit the age long enemy.

The bringer of Wonder was even more surprised when Pitch deposited a limp, lifeless Jack Frost on the floor of the Globe Room. At the accusing glance, the Boogeyman sneered in disgust

"Don't glare at me, North. I didn't do this to him. His believers found him like this after five days, as I understand it. Their fears told me as much anyway."

North took in the young winter spirit's appearance, and Pitch could feel the fear creep up the usually jolly Guardian.

Jack looked worse, his thin frame curled in on itself, his mouth gasping for breath, and small whimpers escaping his cracked lips from time to time. His eyes remained closed, and though he was Winter, he shivered.

The shivering made North give pause and look at Pitch.

"He trembles. Is it fear?" he asked, and the Boogeyman was surprised that the question held no accusing undertones to it.

"No." he answered. "No it isn't fear...it's weakness. Frost is beyond his limit." He knelt and ran his fingers over the collar still attached to the youth's neck. He frowned and reported to North.

"I was afraid of this, North. This collar did more to Frost than keep him tethered to his tree. Even now, it's doing its job."

"What is job Pitch? This device is foreign to me. I have seen inhibitor collars before, but they do not make the wearer weak."

Pitch looked at him and snorted bitterly, "That is because inhibitor collars don't suck the life out of whoever is wearing them!"

"You mean collar is..."

"It's killing him, North!" Pitch spat "Not literally, but Frost's strength is being sucked out of him. His strength, his power, his will to survive...and by the look in his eyes...his very center, is being drained away."

"We must remove it immediately!" North roared, but Pitch stopped his hand before he could get a good grip on the offending device. At the man's scalding glare, the Boogeyman simply ran his hand over the edge of the black monstrosity. Little holes greeted sensitive fingertips, and North slowly drew his hand back. "Booby trap." He said softly.

Pitch nodded solemnly "Set to go off if an outside force tries to rip it open. It's set to spring if anything above freezing temperature tampers with it forcefully. That way Jack wouldn't decapitate himself when he doubtlessly and inevitably attempted to get rid of it. But if anyone else tried to free him..off with his head."

"But we need to get rid of device and SOON!" North insisted.

The Boogeyman smiled knowingly "Oh we will. See the trap only works if whatever is tampering with it is tangible."

Rolling up his sleeves, Pitch willed his hand to turn into a shadow, and inserted the makeshift claw into a small slit in the side of the device. North held his breath and waited. Pitch snarled softly and said in exasperation "I cannot concentrate with you hovering like that! One slipup, and Frost is done! Go summon the others or something."

North was loath to leave Jack alone like this, but the Boogeyman was right. The others needed to be informed of their youngest's plight.

ROTG

"Hold still Frost, unless you want to be headless!" Pitch snarled, but those present noticed there was less malice and more urgent pleading in the hiss.

It had been an hour since the rest of the Guardians had arrived at the Pole. Pitch was still working on getting the nasty collar off the winter sprite's neck, and Jack, having regained cosciousness, was weakly trying to get away. The dull eyes were wide and frightened, and though Pitch drew some of the fear from his patient, Jack was less than pacified.

"I hate to do this to you, Frost, but you need to stay under for a little while longer. I'm only a quarter through and you are not helping!" Reluctantly, Pitch turned up the intensity of the collar, forcing Jack under again. He returned the settings to normal, and continued to work.

The next time Jack awoke, the Guardians glared silently at Pitch, who shrugged and simply said that it needed to be done. The reason for their disdain was that although he was clearly awake, the young spirit lay like a limp doll, not even trying to struggle, and his eyes didn't even show his fear, they were so dead to everything. The Guardians, especially Bunny, blamed this new development on Pitch's decision to raise the collar's intensity. In Jack's feeble state, even that much of an increase in the draw was monumental. But again, the Boogeyman explained that it needed to be done.

The next time Jack struggled, the onlookers knew that he was simply trying to get comfortable. He had no emotions left to express, so he wasn't panicking. Pitch however was still not pleased.

"If you don't want me to still him with this, then knock him out yourselves! Last warning. If I mess up he will lose his head. LITERALY!"

Sandy stepped forward immediately and threw Dreamsand at Jack, effectively stilling him. The Sandman and the others were horrified to see that although the boy slept, he did not dream.

Tooth was distressed over this new predicament. "Sandy, what does this mean?"

The little man shook his head sadly "It must mean he is dead to everything...even his own dreams."

"Poor Sweet Tooth." The fairy said pityingly, wanting so much to hug the boy and comfort him.

Bunny, through all of this, was watching Jack with growing fear and rage. The snowflake was reckless, irresponsible most of the time, and a troublemaker. Yet he was also the best darn thing that had happened to the Big Four since their creation. The boy who rode the Wind and frolicked through snowdrifts had given life a joy all his own, brightening everything and everyone around him just by being himself. He was free and loved to share even the smallest experience of that freedom with anyone who would dare to have the least bit of fun with him.

The winter child laying before them now...it wasn't Jack Frost. How could it be?

Jack was full of life...full of laughter. There wasn't a spark of fun or mischief in the stormy grey eyes that looked blankly ahead, unseeing. Eyes that usually were a snarky, mischievous icy blue, with a hint of sarcastic glee and the light of mirth had been reduced to dead, lifeless orbs with no emotion behind them.

Jack's energy drove the Pooka up the wall usually, but the figure before him had none of that spunk. The boy who couldn't stay still for ten minutes was now laying there, limp and shaking, not moving a darn muscle and it had been an hour!

"He looks dead." The Pooka murmured, his voice cracking.

"Bunny, you of all people shouldn't say things such as that!" North scolded lightly "What was your Center again?" he teased lightly.

"I never said he was. He just looks that way." Bunny said softly, never taking his eyes off the limp form on the floor.

"Even so, you out of all of us should not be thinking so negatively."

"You're right mate. You're right." The Pooka agreed. "Still...it's hard even for me ta hope for too much."

"All we need is a small piece Bunny." North said, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder.

Bunny sighed "Good, because that is all I can give, I'm afraid."

The solemn moment was broken with a very satisfying click, and the four watched with baited breath as Pitch tugged gently on the device that still clung loosely to Jack's neck. Every one of them sighed in relief as the collar slipped off, and Pitch took some small pleasure in flinging it out a window.

The Boogeyman stepped away, and the big four rushed forward. North took time, however, to turn Pitch's way and thump him on the back as a thank you, whispering "We are in your debt, Pitch Black. Try not to flaunt it too early, eh?"

"No promises old man." The boogeyman sneered, but his eyes betrayed his acceptance oif the gratitude. He then slunk back into the shadows, not leaving, but not really going anywhere either.

North picked up Jack, and carried him to the boy's Summer Room, the place he stayed during the Summer when his lake was too hot to sleep at oor near. Jack didn't exactly live at the Pole, but North had insisted he have his own room.

As the bearded man lay the winter sprite on the bed of snow and ice of Frost's own design, the others hovered nearby. When the boy didn't even curl up or get comfortable, Tooth stepped in and gently brought up the spun-ice sheets, tucking him in and running fingers through his white locks. Tearing up at the dull stare she got from the boy, but relieved to see him shift his weight to get comfortable, Tooth gave him a kiss on the forehead before whispering a silent plea in his ear.

"Come back to us, Jack."