Alright, everyone back up from the cliff! A little history time from Pitch Black on how he met Flicker! There might be some cliff notes near the end on certain subjects that you might come across so keep a look out!

Until then, let's get it started!

Warning: May contain strong language and themes that might not be suitable for certain viewers, reader discretion is advised.

Flicker Chapter 14: Spark from the Past

Previously on Flicker:

"I guess I should start at the beginning…during the Dark Ages."

It was during the Dark Ages when humanity was at its worst.

True, he had a hand in it, but all it took was one little push and everyone was paranoid of everything, willing to blame a small insignificant thing for another. To think that it all started with a simple bonfire of an Egyptian library those many years ago. In the name of the Lord Almighty, a common excuse to commit murder. He remembered walking around a city one night, Paris from what he remembered. It was during the time when people are wary of any foreigner that entered into their home country, mostly of Romanis, or gypsies as the locals called them nowadays. The fear on both sides seemed to skyrocket whenever there was a hanging, whether the said criminal was truly guilty or otherwise. The burning execution was an occasional treat to look forward to. Pitch could still feel the rush of fear practically coursing into his veins from the latest execution of a condemned man, an elderly Roma to be exact. He had no idea what he was convicted for, but it was obvious that his heritage is enough reason for them to have him killed. His screams of agony and the smell of burning flesh filled the sky as the crowd watched and cheered at his demise.

Their fear is as strong as their need for blood, fear of being in the same situation as the man that burned before them but at the same time they were glad that they are not him. After all, execution is like another holiday for them. Nothing more, nothing less…

And like any other holiday, it came and went as the old man's body slowly turned into charred remains and soon discarded somewhere, most likely to rot and be forgotten.

However the effect was still on certain people's minds, and tonight was no exception.

While roaming around within the darkest corners of the city streets, he spotted a small makeshift bonfire in an alleyway, with a small group of youths surrounding it. Troublemakers no doubt with nothing better to do other than trying to find some ways to entertain themselves. But from the sound of them talking, or rather what seemed like the Ringleader doing most of the talking, they were engaged in some sort of storytelling.

A ghost story from what he is hearing.

Pitch smirked to himself as an idea came to him. Perhaps he should have a little fun for a bit, after all, it doesn't hurt to gain a small snack. Besides, the fears of children are the best when compared to the adults. The dark man melted into the shadows before shifting over near the boys.

"As she walked through the alley, that was when she heard the most frightening sound upon the glass…screeeeech…screeeech…" he drew out the sounds of metal. He smiled to himself when he paused for effect in his story. Here comes the best part…this part would certainly cause them to wet their trousers for the night. He leaned forward into the light of the fire, creating eerie shadows upon his face as he grinned maniacally with his arms raised in a threatening manner.

"That is when she realized…the man with the hook is behind her!"

The chestnut haired youth looked around at his friends, who all stared at him with disinterest and boredom.

Not a shred of fear on their faces.

"I think I prefer the one where the lady feeds her husband a corpse's liver." One of them finally spoke up.

"That's not really scary, Jean." Another member of the group commented.

Jean frowned as he leaned back and dropped his hands in disbelief. He was sure that this story should scare the pants off of them! After all, he had to sneak into the pub in order to get juicy stories out of loosened lips of certain bar flies, mostly off-duty patrol guards who wanted to gamble and drink away. Maybe he should have gone for the story about a girl and a grave…

"You got something better? Like something that would make me scream?"

Something…that would make him scream?

Jean thought for a moment before recalling this afternoon's burning. A gypsy from what he remembered. All he remembered was watching the old man burn for something-he didn't really know, maybe stealing- and everyone practically cheering at his suffering. Although, he did recall this superstition that the gypsies are a clan of witches and have knowledge of magic of some sort, which could explain the tarot card readings by the street corners. As he thought back, inspiration hit him.

Oh this is going to be good.

"Actually…I do." Jean smirked as he looked at his friends. "I got a real scary story for you guys."

This seemed to peak their interest as they sat up a bit straighter and scooted a bit closer to the fire, giving him their undivided attention.

"I shouldn't you be telling you guys this…but this is a tale about this old gypsy man."

This earned a collective groan from his audience.

Jean glared at them as he slammed his fist on his lap.

"Not THAT old one!" Then he calmed down to get back into the storytelling mood. "This is the tale of an old gypsy man who is a witch."

'Long ago, the gypsy man made a pact with the Devil to gain power. He asked for power and eternal life, but forgot to ask for youth. So, as soon as he reached to old age, he continued on living, venturing with among his fellow gypsies throughout the countryside as he gained unsuspecting poor souls from remote villages in order to appease his infernal master. Most of them are children since they are still pure. Then…one day, when he was taking a soul of a young girl, he was caught in the act by the guards. He was tried for his crimes and was sentenced to be burned at the stake. And just when he was about to be burned, he had this to say…"

"I will return to exact my revenge from the shadows. Mark my words."

Jean's voice was lowered and raspy, a rather pathetic attempt to make to make it sound like an old man's voice. But it drew in the attention of his audience on him, so that was good enough for Jean. He mentally smiled at the result before continuing on his story.

"Even when he was being burned, he didn't utter a sound. Not even when his skin was being stripped away to the charred bones. Soon, he became nothing but ashes and dust. However, his words forever engraved within the minds of the good people of Paris as they go about their normal lives. For the most part, nothing happened."

Then he stopped for a moment, giving the story a pause for effect.

"That is until children started to disappear left and right without a trace. And it was during the dead of the night. The people remembered the old man's warnings, and kept their children indoors. But that hadn't done any good for them. One by one, every child was spirited away from their beds. The last thing that the adults saw was the gnarled shadowy figure of the old man…exacting his revenge from the grave. On nights just like this…"

As soon as he ended the story, Jean noticed that his friends are staring at him; looking like that they could be wetting their trousers at any given minute. He couldn't help but smile with pride at this. Granted that it wasn't his best and he made it up on the spot, not enough to make them scream though this is better than nothing.

"So, what do you think you lot think?" he asked, smiling.

They didn't answer him. Instead they kept on staring at him, each one of them not daring to move or even breathe…

Or rather…staring WHAT was behind him.

Blinking in confusion, Jean slowly turned around in order to see what they are looking at.

What he saw filled him with utter horror.

Before them was the shadowy gnarled hunchbacked figure…of the old Gypsy man that he had described in his story.

Reaching out towards them from the darkness…

He didn't know which one of them screamed first, but he knew that they had to get out of here and fast. As soon as Jean made a mad dash out of the alleyway, not without knocking over the bonfire tin and bumping into one of his friends into a tangled limb mess. He managed to get himself back on his feet before running out into the streets like the Devil was on his heels, followed by his friends who are screaming and blubbering like mad.

Jean vaguely took note of the wetness in his pants as he turned the corner.

A dark chuckle escaped from the shadow man as he stepped out from the darkness and stood among the still lit planks from the tin container. Children had such vivid imaginations, just the ingredients that he needed to create on a whim. Pitch stared after the small group of youths running anywhere but here. He inhaled through his nostrils before exhaling in relaxation at their fear. Admittedly, it wasn't as filling as the execution times but still nothing wrong with a small snack.

Pitch then strolled out leisurely out into the streets, finding it void of any sign of humans tonight, possibly due to that ridiculous curfew or fear of divine retribution. But sometimes, he rather liked the silence. Sometimes in the past he would have a chat with his old friend on a certain time of night. However it is the New Moon, meaning that he won't have any nighttime chats tonight. As he walked down the cobblestone streets, Pitch noticed something amiss in somewhere near the upper districts, where the wealthy are located.

Usually almost nothing happened in that location, save for an occasional sighting of a gargoyle or two that often sneak off of the ledges of Notre Dame to stretch their wings before hibernating for the time being. However curiosity got the better of him and decided to use the shadows to head over to the upper district, considering the fact that it was faster that way. Pitch felt everything rush over him as his vision went from black to the more prestige streets of Paris, a huge contrast to the market district. He searched around the streets until Pitch looked up at the rooftops. What he saw was a rather curious sight.

Before him was a young man, which was obvious. The only curious thing about him was the fact that he had flames dancing off of his blazing red hair and shoulders. From a distance, he could have sworn that he could have been a normal human set ablaze, if it weren't for the fact of how relaxed he seemed judging by the way he was sitting upon the roof. There was only one thing that could rule him out…

That man is a spirit.

Or at least, that is what he thought. Certain beings that he had come across prefer the term "anthromorphic personification" nowadays. As if it would catch on…

He narrowed his golden eyes as Pitch observed him from below. He had never come across this one before. During his travels in Europe, he had often cross paths with supernatural beings such as the Fair Folk. He would occasionally run in with Hilaria, sometimes finding him observing the Feast of Fools. Or at least, he assumed that he was observing the festivities…it was rather hard to know what he is really feeling due to that cursed jester mask of his. Come to think of it, he had no idea what his face looked like underneath…

Shaking his head a bit, Pitch inwardly decided that he should confront this new spirit as he took to the shadows once more. Getting to the rooftop without the other party's knowledge was one of the things that he loved as the Boogeyman. He'd get a kick out of silently creep behind them until he finally speak up, causing them to jump out of their skin and triggering their fight or flight mode. It worked on certain spirits of his status, but the reactions of humans are the most fun. Still, it doesn't hurt to make an unforgettable introduction. However, tonight might not be the case. As soon as Pitch crept up behind the fire spirit, he was the first one to speak up.

"That man over there is a priest."

Pitch blinked as he stared at the back of the flaming head. How could he know? Did something give him away?

"In training, I think…" He heard the Spirit continued on. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he walked over to his side, looking at the same direction as the Spirit. Before him was the bedroom window belonging to a middle aged man, praying before a crucifix surrounded by a few candles. Pitch cocked his head to the side as he observed him. He seemed to be ordinary so to speak, just dressed in the drabbest nightwear that he had ever seen and his ashen blond hair was greying a bit. What is about this man that fascinated the fire spirit?

"The reason why he went into this kind of job is because of his desire."

Pitch turned to the Fire Spirit, in surprise this time. Just how did he know what he was thinking? Now that he got a good look at him, he noticed that he is quite young by human standards with sun-kissed skin, easily pass him off as a foreigner if he were mortal. He was dressed in a rather peculiar manner. Now that Pitch thought about it, the other spirit's attire resembles the Romani's in a way yet at the same time not since it consists of a red vest and loose black slacks that were torn and ragged at the end of the pant legs. He lacked any form of footwear, leaving his feet bare to the elements. While he is obviously a fire spirit, what kind of abilities does he have?

And more importantly, what does priesthood has anything to do with the man's desire?

A smirk grew on the other spirit's lips as he watched the praying human.

"That guy desired a young woman who was already married, to a guy three times her age, if my math is correct." He let out a dark chuckle as he kept on watching the man praying. "I could feel it from here. He wanted to grab and kiss her full on the mouth. Even going as far as wanted to do it in the middle of the street, with her husband watching among the crowd. And you wanna know the best part? The girl was barely 15."

Hearing this made Pitch suspicious instantly. It would seem that he has the ability to read minds, and it might not exclude beings such as him from that ability either. Personally he doesn't approve of his privacy being violated. Pitch instantly pulled up a protective barrier made by his own aura, giving off the illusion of a shadowy mist. He placed up a mental barrier as well, something that he picked up from his travels in Tibetan countries. Just for safety precaution…

Then the Fire Spirit threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh, further confusing Pitch. Did he also know what he was about to do as well? No, that doesn't make any sense. Contrary to human belief, even spirits like Pitch have limitations. Most Pagan gods had to make do with assimilation due to the advancement in technology and shifting of beliefs. While there are a few percentage of humans who still worshiped some of them, it was still not enough due to the witch-hunts from the Church.

"I'm kidding…I'm just trying to make a conversation, that's all." Then the Fire Spirit turned around to face him, revealing eyes that were a shade lighter than his own. "I don't have any intention to read your desires…" Then he paused for an effect as a lazy smirk stretched his lips.

"…Yet."

That wasn't reassuring enough, but he would give him the benefit of the doubt. For the time being…

Pitch watched cautiously as the Fire Spirit stood up before fully facing him with a smile that seemed casual this time.

"The name's Flicker," He introduced himself, holding his hand out. "Nice to meet ya, friend."

The Boogeyman was almost hesitant to take Flicker's hand to return the gesture. Something about this spirit wasn't right, but he couldn't place his finger on how or why he thought of that. Perhaps it was because of the fact that he's a new spirit. But that wasn't the case…he had seen appearances of new beings in the past, most of them came to be as long as he had been roaming around. Maybe it was just paranoia talking.

After giving it some thought, Pitch finally took Flicker's hand into his own. He winced inwardly at the searing heat from the latter's skin, briefly wondered if it would leave a scar.

"Pitch Black."

That was the night when he first met Flicker.

He only met him once or twice after that, what he does from then on he had no idea. Nor he cared. Flicker was probably like him, absorbing a certain aspect of humanity in order to thrive. At least that is what he assumed at the time. But nevertheless, he could tell that they're not exactly friends, just passing acquaintances. A small chat here and there before go about their way. It was- for a lack of a better phrasing- once in a Blue Moon kind of thing. Often times he would see him watching from a distance of mundane activities and openly comment some rather lewd secrets to him. However there are a few times that he had seen are rather…risqué. He solemnly regretted agreeing to Samhain's invitation one All Hallow's Eve with the Full Moon feeding of a certain pack of she-werewolves. Flicker had been poking fun at him left and right, calling him a "stuck-up prude". But Pitch just simply brushed them off and carried on his way, just assuming that it was one of his quirks.

And then one night…it happened.

It was only a matter of time until he first experienced it. It was considered a fate worse than the Reaper himself among spirits and gods alike. The moment that a human walked through him, it was as clear as the stars in the night sky.

No one believed in him.

Sure, there was still fear here and there but it was little compared to decades ago. It was like living off of the barely edible scraps from the rubbish that the street urchins had to scrounge from. And it was all because of that damned Guardians formation that the Moon made. Their spreading of wonder, hope, dreams, and pleasant memories dwindled down any hint of fear. All he had to deal with are leftovers. And the sensation of a human walked through him…the closest thing he could describe was having a void right inside your chest. And it was a horrible feeling.

It was like he wasn't there to begin with.

Pitch had no idea what to do.

"You look like shit."

The Nightmare King looked up at the sound of the familiar voice and found the familiar flaming spirit standing before him with his hands in his pockets in a nonchalant manner. Flicker stared at him with his head cocked to the side with a raised red brow.

"You ok?" it seemed to be a casual question but Pitch could somehow sense the concern in his voice.

He just sat there as a sigh escaped from his lips and hung his head down in defeat. He didn't need to see if Flicker took a seat beside him, waiting for him to answer his question.

"No…no, I'm not ok." He finally admitted before letting out a dry laugh. "It was indescribable, ludicrous even. But it was only a matter of time when it was my turn, to be not believed in. All because of those damned Guardians that the Moon had brought together!" Pitch placed his hands over his eyes as he gritted his teeth, keeping in the scream of frustration.

"I could still feel it…that sensation of someone walking through you. It was like you never existed at all."

Flicker listened as the older spirit confessed out his feelings to him before speaking up.

"Personally, I don't see what was the big deal."

Pitch snapped his eyes open and turned to him in shock. Flicker just shrugged as he leaned back against the pavement wall in relaxation.

"So, what if no one sees you," he continued, resting the back of his head with his arms and crossing his legs. "What's done is done, there's nothing you can do about it. Like I said, it's not a big deal."

The Boogeyman just stared at him in utter shock, unable to speak. He literally poured out his heart, his anguish, to him and he just said it wasn't a big deal? Just simply brush it off like it was nothing? After a good long minute of silence, Pitch finally found his voice.

"Not…a big deal?" His voice was calm and rather monotone. Then he rose up as he kept his attention on Flicker whose expression was unreadable. "Not. A. Big. DEAL!?"

It could be the influx of whatever little power he had left but he could have sworn that the shadows around him flare out like flames, for a better lack of description. But Pitch didn't notice as he glared down at Flicker with absolute fury.

"You…INSOLANT CHILD! I have been around since the day that Mankind walked the Earth and hid in caves during the darkness of night! I am Fear itself! I am what drove humanity to its limits and protected it! Fear cannot be tamed nor killed! But yet, the Moon had brought forth the Guardians, obscuring me into almost nothing! And here you are saying that the fact that I wasn't believed in wasn't a big deal!? You don't understand what I'm going through!"

He then breathe heavily, feeling both physically and emotionally exhausted after letting out all the pent up rage that he had felt throughout the countless years since the night that he was rendered nonexistent.

Or has it been decades?

He could barely remember.

Pitch finally calmed down as his breathing became regular again, he blinked as realization slowly dawned upon him at the fact that he literally blew up in front of his only acquaintance. Blunt as his way of speaking, he was trying his best to ease his spirits a little. And then he had to go and ruin that.

Aside from the Moon…he rarely had other friends.

He blinked as he faced Flicker, a bit reluctant to see his reaction. When he did, Pitch was rather surprised to see a rather blank expression on the flaming spirit's face as he stared up at him. His flames however…they seemed a bit brighter…

"You're right." He finally spoke up. The tone in his voice was void of any emotion. "I don't understand. Because no one had seen me since the day I was born."

All Pitch could do was to stare at him in astonishment, not knowing what to say or think.

"You too…?" was all he could manage to speak out.

Looking back, he recall noticing that whenever he wandered among humans, taking in their fear, Flicker was sitting somewhere and stare at a particular human or otherwise with such intensity that his eyes would burn with one look. There were times when he made snide remarks at the couples and he noticed that the humans only see him.

But not Flicker…

Not even children took notice of him.

"Yeah…it had been that way since…well, ever." Flicker replied. He then stretched out his limbs before standing up from his seat. "But I don't really care back then, I don't care now. That's just how I roll." Then he looked up to Pitch, with a wicked looking smirk stretching his lips. "Besides, I only had two things that kept me going. One of them is my Lord and Master. Let's just say that you two…tend to miss each other."

Pitch blinked in confusion. Lord and Master…miss each other? Who could that be? He racked his brains for any possible candidate that he had come across but so far he had none. Despite their age, experience, and leniency, none of them seem to fit Flicker's description.

"And…the other thing?" he asked, almost hesitant.

He could have sworn that Flicker's grin grew wider, as if he was anticipating for him to ask in a rather smug manner.

"That would be my Soul Mate…even if he or she didn't exist yet."

"And that was the last time I had spoken to him."

As soon as Pitch finished his story, he let out a heavy sigh before facing the Guardians. They took note of how somber he looked, contrast to the smug confidence that he was oozing of. None of them spoke a word; even Sandy was –figuratively- speechless. They know what Pitch and Jack went through, but a spirit that wasn't seen since the day that he came to be. While Flicker does fit the ranks of the Pagans, he's still considerably younger than them. Walking through the eras with no one noticing him, most of the spirits from the ancient times learn to assimilate or hide amongst humans to gain whatever belief that they can get.

From the greatest of Gods to those who dwell on Earth in different forms.

The Guardians, on the other hand, gained eternity of belief. And it was all thanks to their sworn duty to protect children to the Moon himself. But somehow along the way, they begin to lose sight of that, now concerned with deadlines, spreading joy to children but not actually interacting with them. A long distance relationship, the adults were saying nowadays.

It only took looking on the perspectives of Pitch and Jack to wake them up.

And speaking of Jack…

North took note of how well balanced he sat upon the crook of his staff. Usually he would be fidgeting, he would rarely sit still. Not to mention he was giving Pitch his full attention the most, not saying anything. Seeing him like that was almost unnerving if he was honest with himself.

After a moment, the youngest Guardian spoke up.

"You have mentioned that he would go this far before…had he tried to hurt others?"

Pitch let out a sigh, his shoulders falling a bit. Onyx let out a soft whine as she trotted over to her master to nuzzle against his leg for comfort.

"Not in a physical sense…" he replied, stroking the Nightmare's mane. "I soon found out that not only he can sense desire but also influence them as well. Just a slight nudge and they all fall over like dominoes." He closed his eyes as if trying to block out whatever memory that came to his mind.

From the look of his face, it wasn't a good one.

"What he had done back then was worse than what he did."

Jack barely contained a shudder when he remembered Flicker's hands all over his body. He was glad that North and Sandy made it in time. Otherwise he couldn't look at them in the eye ever again.

Bunny most of all…

"But how does this help Bunny?" Tooth's voice broke his train of thought.

Jack blinked when he realized that he had forgotten to ask him how to cure Bunny, since asking Flicker was out of the question. The said fire spirit really looked like he was about to burn his face off. He took note that Pitch was looking at all of them as if they each had grown a second head.

"…You…all did your research right?" He asked. "Concerning about the flowers?"

They had been trying to research a cure for Bunny all this time?

Jack then looked over to the three senior Guardians and noticed them looking rather…hesitant, if that is the right word to describe them.

"Eh…" North was the first to speak up. "About that…"

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand CLIFF HANGING SCENE!

I love this power...it's so bad.

I hope that this is enough for those who read KudaKano's Flicker and wanted to know how Pitch knew Flicker, and you wanna know the best part? This is only the beginning. Until next time, peace out!

Author's Note(s)

1) The Egyptian library that Pitch mentioned referred to the Library of Alexandria, watched over by a woman named Hypatia who was murdered by a Christian mob. Her death made her murderer a saint.

2) Hilaria - My own take of the representative of April Fool's Day. His picture is featured on my deviantArt gallery. His name derived from the Latin word hilaris, meaning cheerful.

3) Samhain - Inspired by the Canadian-American horror anthology film Trick 'r Treat, and also a Halloween Anthromorphic Persona