Chapter Text
Pitch Black stood in front of the monument of ice and darkness, a tiny fairy struggling desperately in his tight gray fist. His tall form did little to intimidate his opponent; gray skin, ebony hair and midnight-black clothing matching the professed King of Nightmares perfectly. A malicious sneer was the only thing marring his handsome features. “The staff, Jack! Now hand it over, and I'll let her go.”
Jack Frost clutched his staff in aggravation, his naturally pale knuckles appearing bone white against the gnarled brown of his staff. His icy blue eyes glared daggers of hate beneath a mop of snow white hair. His lean and tense body was hidden beneath a baggy blue hoodie and beaten brown pants.
Seconds passed, “Don’t make me tell you again.” Pitch squeezed his fist with impatience, making the little fairy squeak out in pain.
“Allright, allright!” Jack called out frantically. He lowered his staff and walked forward unwilling to look into Pitch’s triumphant eyes, instead focusing on the little fairy, ‘I'm coming for you Babytooth.’ He flipped the staff around and held the butt end of the staff out to Pitch Black.
Pitch grabbed hold of it and pulled it out of Jack’s reluctant hand.
Jack felt his unease triple as his staff was taken. “Alright,” he said quietly, “now let her go.” He held out his hand expectantly.
“ No.”
Jack’s eyes snapped up to Pitch’s, his cold lips parted in surprise, and anger.
“You wanted to be alone,” Pitch sneered “so be alone.” The little fairy squeaked indignantly and stabbed her long pointed nose into Pitch’s hand. He cursed out in pain as he dropped her quickly. She was fluttering in the air trying to unfurl her crumpled wings, when Pitch viciously backhanded her, smacking her tiny form away from him.
“Babytooth!” Jack called out reaching for her, even as she shot past him. He turned back to Pitch who held his staff in both hands. Jack saw his intentions instantly “Don’t-!” he begged lunging forward as Pitch snapped the staff in two over his knee. Jack gasped as his blue eyes dilated in agony. He clutched his chest as he screamed, his pain ricocheting over the mountainside.
He fell to the ground writhing in the snow, seeking blindly for any kind of relief from the sharp burning pain that permeated his body. His hand clenching helplessly into the cold yielding snow while sparks of blue flashed around his sweating and shaking body. Bullets of wind peppered the ground around him, causing fountains of snow to fly up ten feet into the air. He twisted and turned, creating strange shallow pathways in the snow, He sucked in air to scream again as he bent nearly in half to fight the pain.
Pitch stood immobile, watching in surprise as the young sprite screamed in agony. ‘Well,’ He looked at the pieces of wood in his hand, and then tossed them on the ground as he made his way over to his victim.
Jack saw him coming through the pounding haze in his mind and only one thought was able to reach the surface of his tumultuous mind. ‘Escape.’ He sucks air in through his ragged throat, “Wind,” he whispers clutching his convulsing body. Jack feels the comforting rush of wind as he was lifted up into the air.
Pitch snarled in anger at the attempted escape, he runs and then leaps in the air towards Jack. Locking his legs around Jack’s torso, Pitch slammed him back into the ground holding Jack’s body down with his own. He pins Jack’s hands in the snow next to his head and lifts an eyebrow mockingly, as if challenging him to try again.
Jack looked up into the free snow flurries in the sky and yelled hoarsely to the only weapon he had left, “Wind, take me home!” The wind came again, and it came stronger, lifting them both steadily up the air.
Pitch could feel the wind trying to pry them apart; he silently commanded his power. Black sand converged over them, forming a smooth curved shield around them, blocking out the wind. They both fell back to the ground again.
Pain flashed white-hot through Jack’s body as Pitch’s full and sudden weight landed on top of Jack when they smashed back to the ground. The wind pounded at the sleek top but couldn’t find a grip. Jack’s heart stuttered in fear when he heard it moan sorrowfully beyond the darkness.
Jack panted heavily in the semi-darkness and cringes violently as the diminishing pain rips through his body. He wants desperately to curl in on himself but pulls against Pitch’s superior strength in vain.
Pitch stares down into Jack’s face and inhales his fear as if it were the aroma of a fine wine.
Jack breathes heavily through his nose and through semi clenched eyes looks at Pitch directly, “Get off.”
“No.” Pitch’s mouth turned upward as the once powerful Jack Frost struggled beneath him.
Jack struggles then cries out in agony as pain rips through his body again, “Pitch, damn it, get off of me! You’ve won allright? Now let– GO!” ¬
Pitch tightens his grip on Frost’s wrists and smiles as he yells in pain. Pitch thins the shield above them just enough to allow his shadow to form on Jack’s face. “Look Jack, a shadow,”
Jack stills and turns to look up into Pitch’s hard golden eyes as the first traces of real fear push past the pain and begin to assault his senses.
Pitch grinds his teeth together in pleasure. It’s been so long, so long since a Guardian had truly feared him. ‘Too long.’ he thought. He smiles at Jack watching as the understanding and fear settled in.
Jack couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering to the pale sunlight just beyond Pitch. He searched the skies hopelessly for any hint of the Guardians. ‘Help,’ Jack could feel himself begin to sink downward as black sand crawled up over the sides of his body. He felt panic flutter around in his stomach. “N–NORTH!!”
The sand shield over them fully dissolved, giving him one last glimpse of the open skies, before he felt the shadows rise up to cover them. They fell through an ebony tunnel as Jack watched the sky shrink to a small circle before it disappeared altogether. A few moments later Jack felt himself being released, and he fell on a hard surface. He lost his breath for a second when he landed on the hard stone floor. Biting his lip to keep from crying out he curled up, immobile trying to get his body under control; each new painful convulsion jarring his concentration.
Pitch watched his new prisoner trying to beat the pain back for a quick moment then crouched down next to him.
Jack scrunched up and threw himself to the side as much as he could, but he didn’t get far. He immediately felt large hands grab at him, holding him down. “S-stop-”
Pitch ignored his pleas, and quickly pulled out a golden tube from inside Jack’s hoodie. It had a diamond pattern on one side and at the end a picture of a young brown haired boy.
Jack grit his teeth trying to force Pitch's quick hands from his chest. But the weight was too much for him to lift. It was nearly umpossible to focus on anything but the all-encompasing pain.
Pitch stood with the tube in hand, watching Jack as he managed to scoot further from him. He watched him for another moment then turned on his heel and left through the shadows.
Jack clutched his body tightly, astounded at how much pain he could feel at one time. Every single centimeter of his body seemed to be prodded with sharp needle points. Endlessly waiting, hoping that each imagined diminished twinge would become reality; but he was fooled again and again. There was nothing that could hold his attention from the agony that saturated his body; it invaded every part of his senses, engulfing his mind in acute layers of pain.
He fought to remain perfectly still as he forced the gears in his head into motion against the pain that assaulted him. ‘Why did Pitch bring me here? How am I going to get out?’ He grit his teeth as he tried to remain perfectly still under against the sudden small shocks of pain that appeared throughout his body.
Hours pass by slowly as the red glow of pain grudgingly receded from his mind. He waited as the intervals between pain grew longer. As the convulsions abated, a sense of intense unease grew causing him to open his eyes in search of enemies. But all was black around him. He grit his teeth as another spasm pulled his muscles tightly. He struggled against it, and fought to open his eyes, looking around once more for anything besides the absolute blackness that surrounded him.
Afraid to invoke another round of pain he had lain perfectly still; but he knew that he would have to risk the pain if he was going to get out of there. He slowly undid his left arm, testing each muscle, just waiting for the pain to come back. He uncurled each finger, un-bent his elbow and then repeated the tedious process with his right arm.
As soon as he could, Jack reached a tremor prone hand down to touch the pouch in the front of his hoodie. His fingers searched the small cavity again and agian but he knew the teeth that held his memories was gone. 'I've risked everything for those and the same day I get my hands on them, I lose them. When I get out of here, I'm going to find those teeth, no matter how long it takes. I will get them back.'
A few more hours pass while no new tremors occur. ‘There doesn’t seem to be any more pain…’ Jack paused a moment to really study his surroundings. The floor beneath him was slightly cool to the touch; Jack concentrated on that using the temperature to boost his recovery. "Should have thought of that first thing." He berated himself.
As for the room itself, Jack could distinguish nothing. Everything was cloaked in the same monotonous black; Jack noticed the air was still so he imagined himself to be in some sort of enclosed area. ‘I don’t think Pitch… really would have taken me just to watch me suffocate, there must be another reason.’
Knowing that he was going to need his legs to get out of here, Jack began to test them out waiting for any pain. He unlocked his right knee, and then slowly extended it, sliding the side of his bare foot along the floor, and then repeated the same slow motions with his left leg. Baring the occurrence of one painful cramp, he turned and was finally able to lay flat against the ground. He stretched his calf muscles and then his thigh muscles. Then finally wiggled each toe and was satisfied with their capabilities.
He by no means was in any position to fight or to even exert a strain on his muscles but he could count on them in an emergency. ‘That’s about all I can count on.’ He thought to himself.‘No staff, no wind, no Guardians, I’m– I’m alone.' Jack clenched his fists to his chest looking around at the impenetrable darkness that surrounded him. Against his will, a memory surfaced, an abandoned alleyway and two tall shapes flashed across his mind, he shuddered as he thought back to the last time he had felt so utterly controlled by his situation.
He wrenched his thoughts from the past and concentrated on double checking his body for injury or weakness. Time passes slowly and Jack felt himself fighting the urge to close his eyes and succumb to the release of sleep once more. The intense relief in his pain-free state of body, and the darkness around him, all combined to make him drowsy.
“Damn it…” The pain forced his eyes to clench closed once more. He held on to his consciousness with a sweaty hand, afraid that if he let go of it, Pitch would come in and finish him off. He grit his teeth as another sudden wave of pain coursed through his body, he could feel his hold on his mind slipping, he forced his eyes open once more as he gasped in pain. A comforting blackness seemed to creep over his mind, holding him close, offering a temporary reprieve from his hell; a reprieve Jack wanted to turn to.
He fought with himself for a few moments but eventually gave in. He allowed himself to sleep while within the Bogeyman’s grasp for two reasons. First, fighting sleep was a battle that would inevitably lead to defeat. As he didn’t know how long his stay would be, he thought it wiser to take frequent short light naps instead of a forced deep sleep. Second, and he hated to admit it,but even if Pitch did show up, there wasnt much of anything he could do about it. With those two reasons loosely lodged in his mind, Jack’s heavy eyelids closed over drowsy blue eyes.
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Pitch strode in between the shadows and stepped out into the library. He takes off his black cloak to reveal a gray toned chest with well developed muscles and tight black slacks that clothed long lean legs. He threw the dark cloak over one end of a black couch and settled down into an aged brown leather chair.
He thoughtfully turns over the golden tube he had taken from Frost. Even after all these years he still had no idea how to open them. ‘How do I access the memories inside? How can I break him?’ Pitch thought back to how easy it was to capture Jack Frost after his staff was broken.
‘All for a fairy,’ “It’s his affection that would have done him in every time.” He mused, as he lightly tapped the tube in his hand. He could feel the familiar annoyance gather as he listened to the irritating sound of his victory tool rattling around in this little tube. So close yet so far from his reach.
‘I suppose I don’t have to actually see what’s in here, just so long as Frost thinks I can. If he thought I could reveal these memories to him… or destroy them forever– It could lead to very interesting results.’
He scowled suddenly, ‘No, I'm sure Toothina has spoken to him of the properties of this aggravating box…’ He examined the youthful face of the boy at the end of the tube. 'Brown hair and eyes. The same face, disregarding the color.' His eyes roamed over Jack’s facial features.'That same cocky grin, those ignorantly bright eyes, the same clearly defined chin and nose angles. The same impertinent mouth…’Pitch thought for a moment or two as a smile began to form in the corner of his mouth.
Perhaps completely broken was not the way to go after all. After all quite a large amount of damage can be inflicted if you knew where to aim. ‘Perhaps I can use him to destroy the Guardians.’ He thought for a moment.‘I couldn’t just kill him; that would only make the others angry enough to attack immediately. But not so angry that they would attack without thinking. There’s no way I could take them all on at once, even with all the power I’ve gained. I need a way to unbalance them, cloud their judgment.
He suddenly recalled Jack’s hot blue eyes filled with indignant rage when he had forced him down to the snow. He chuckled to himself. ‘The impudence of that child, telling me to "Get off" ' Pitch laughed out loud.
But it had felt so good to feel the real fear coursing through his veins once more. ‘The way it used to be…' The Guardians had become desensitized to his aura of danger. But Frost had such little individualized interaction with this silent power of his. ‘It would be easy to make him lose himself in the dark mazes of uncertainty.’
Still smiling to himself he stood and placed the tube up on a high shelf that was situated to the right of the fireplace. He had meant to instantly turn from the shelf, as was his custom. But it had been so long since he had felt the urge to see that picture that it took him by surprise. He found his body reluctantly following after his eyes, closing the distance between himself and a detailed sketch of a little girl with waist length blond hair and blue eyes. Almost hesitatingly, he picked up the aged frame and held it carefully with both hands.
His long dark fingers gently touched the smooth glass above her smiling face. Pitch’s tall dark form stood near the shelf, with the fire burning by his feet for some time. Staring down at her face, lost in time, as the echoes of dull pain seemed to lacerate his heart, reopening the top layers of the deep wounds she left there. Eventually he re-extended his arm and placed the picture back in its original resting place. He stood a few moments longer just gazing at the image of the happy child.
Then his hand seemed to twitch, calling him back to the here and now. He blinked a couple times then turned his body towards the door while maintaining his gaze. Another brief moment passed and he turned completely. With his cloak slung over one shoulder, he strides purposefully out of the room without looking back once.