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Tooth managed to find a spare moment in her daily schedule to venture where she thought Pitch’s lair was located. As suspected, it had reemerged in the same spot near Burgess where it had been during last year’s confrontation. She sighed as she realized they were closing in on the two year mark. So much had changed since Pitch’s defeat and Jack’s induction. If she thought too hard about it, it would hurt her head.
She hadn’t seen or heard from Jack since his recovery. Well, she could only hope he was completely recovered. She seriously doubted it, though. Bunny had wanted to check in on him sooner, but she’d advised against it. She didn’t want to tempt fate into revealing the secret of Jack’s condition to anyone other than herself and Pitch. She was nervous about happening upon it herself. She really didn’t know what to expect of a shadow-infused Jack Frost.
Entering the lair, there was nothing but darkness. Very little light caught her focus as she flew past the cages hanging from the ceiling. She shuddered to think what had been in those cages. She neither saw nor heard from either man as she searched the seemingly empty cave. Surely Jack wasn’t out and about during the summer. If he was, there were few continents he could be lingering on.
“Just because one Guardian has taken up residence here doesn’t mean all of you can come visit,” came a dark, familiar voice. She looked in the direction she thought it had originated from, a tremor of fear welling up. Habit. She feared him more out of habit now. There was no Pitch Black in her sights, though.
“How is Jack doing?” she asked, unwilling to show that Pitch’s presence still made her uncomfortable.
“He is fine for now. Resting, if you must know.” His voice was thrown from another direction. How had Jack gotten used to this darkness and shadow play? How could he rest easily in it?
“And the shadow inside of him?” Tooth continued asking questions, though her instincts were screaming for her to flee.
Suddenly, Pitch was in front of her. Had she been grounded, she might have jumped out of her feathers. “Nothing for you to concern yourself over. We are working to subdue it.”
“Subdue? You want to do that?” She was stunned that Pitch Black, the Nightmare King, the Boogeyman, manipulator of shadows and bad dreams, wanted to suppress one of his own minions. She squinted at him in disbelief.
But his face remained serious. “It has given itself a name and has become an absolute pain in the neck, for lack of a more politically correct term. I would suggest you leave before it has another episode.”
“You mean Jack?”
“Let’s be clear. This thing is not Jack. If it were, I may be able to tolerate it at best. But it isn’t. It has simply hijacked Jack’s body and abilities.” Pitch turned away, making for the shadows again as he continued, “It means ill to anyone it sees fit to bother, so you’d best be off.”
“I think it’ll be a while before I get used to you warning me of danger,” Tooth uttered to the Boogeyman.
He turned back to her at that. “The only reason I don’t find entertainment in the thought of you encountering this thing lies in my loyalty to your fellow Guardian. Otherwise, I would willingly set it loose on you. Now leave. You’ve done enough damage for now.”
She was just about to question him on that last statement when yet another familiar voice interrupted with, “Isn’t he loveable? I’m touched.” Tooth and Pitch gazed up at one of the arches in the walls to find Jack lounging there, staff in hand. Only . . . that wasn’t Jack. Tooth’s eyes widened as they focused in on the black and gold that had corrupted Jack’s eyes. He looked ashen, and there was a nature to this version of him that made her want to fly away even more. Somehow, she found herself stuck staring into those eyes. He smirked at her state of shock. “Loveable though he is, he hasn’t bothered to introduce me. I’m Rin, and it is a he, by the way.”
“Leave. Now,” Pitch muttered to her. She could not express in words how terribly she wanted to, but was frozen by the state her friend was in.
“No no no! Please don’t!” It stood up and flew over to her, placing itself precariously between Tooth and Pitch. “The only company I get is this sourpuss right here.” He gestured to Pitch. “And you my lady . . . are colorful!” Oh dear Manny, he looked like he was sizing her up for a dinner plate.
“That’s enough, Rin,” Pitch snarled as he stepped forward, ready to pull the boy back.
It slipped out of his grasp at last minute, and Tooth suddenly found herself being pulled down to his eye level by the wrist. She resisted the urge to squeal as he got in her face. “How bout a kiss for the troublemaker. That is how you think of us, right?” And suddenly, she understood what Pitch had briefly mentioned earlier. “Except, I think I make a better bad boy than your Jack Frost.”
Suddenly, shadows twined around the boy’s limbs, pulling him away from Tooth and towards Pitch. “Have an inkling of respect for the body you’re in,” Pitch growled, his voice bordering on enraged. His gaze flitted up to Tooth. “Leave, for God’s sake!”
“I’m sorry.” The words came out with the breath she had been holding. Then she came to her senses and fled the lair.
It would take every ounce of her willpower not to warn the Guardians of this new side of Jack.
And here Pitch thought that Jack would finally get some rest. Instead, they had been rudely interrupted by a certain twit coming to see about his health. Pitch had been reluctant to leave Jack sleeping in the bed. The boy had been having a nightmare. Pitch, again, had not given it to him and therefore couldn’t control or banish it. He was sure the nightmare was only intensified by that shadow inside the Guardian.
The shadows released Rin, the creature turning and giving Pitch a sardonic look. “You are absolutely no fun.”
“And you are annoying.”
“You’re just jealous. You don’t like me teasing others.”
“Let’s be fair. I wouldn’t care if you flirted with individuals if you were in anyone else’s body. But you’re in Jack’s body, and—.”
“Jack is yours, yada yada yada, you’re boring.” Rin then reached into the front pocket of the hoody and pulled out an instrument Pitch recognized. It was one of his torture tools. Pitch’s eyes widened the slightest bit as the boy examined the sharp end of the tool. “You’ve got an outrageous collection of oddities, you know.”
“Where did you find that?” Pitch had been sure he’d hidden his devices well.
“Lying around. You may be good at hiding things, but I like finding the dirty little secrets you think you can keep from me.” Pitch prepared to lunge for the tool, but the boy danced away on a gust of freezing wind and landed on one of the cages dangling above. “You used the pliers last, didn’t you?”
“Give that back!” Pitch demanded, sinking back into the shadows and looking for a way to get to Rin.
“Answer the question, Nightmare Man,” Rin stated, his playful tone laced with a hint of malice.
Pitch cast shadows on the walls, trying to distract Rin long enough so he could manifest nearby. The damned creature wasn’t falling for it, though. “I did.”
“Bit of advice: you should really clean up the grooves a little better. Still had a bit of . . . monkey blood.” Rin shifted the tool to his other hand as he held onto the chain connected to the ceiling, spinning around the top of the cage. “Now where does this one go?”
Pitch joined Rin on the top of the cage, the boy almost smiling at his appearance. It was a smile without teeth, and it unnerved Pitch. “Give it back.”
“Oh, I know!” he said with excitement, staring devilishly at the Boogeyman. He raised the tool the slightest bit as he continued, “This one takes care of the eye.”
“Don’t!” Pitch shouted, a wave of panic surging through him as he realized Rin’s intention. He reached for the tool only to have Rin spiral upward on the chain of the cage, looking down at the Nightmare King from the position he’d climbed to. Pitch snarled, knowing the boy was just out of his reach. “Don’t you dare—!”
“Relax, Nightmare Man. I’m sadistic, not masochistic. I’m sure you can relate.” His look turned quizzical as he stared at Pitch. “Then again, you do enjoy having these pearly whites sink into your skin every now and then. And your sweet little Jackie does like your fangs. I’d be willing to try anything. Since you chased away the only company I’ve had other than you, maybe I should get back at you a little.”
“Give me the tool, and I’m at your disposal.” Pitch held up his hands, indicating his seriousness. As long as Rin didn’t hurt Jack. Rin could do whatever he wanted as long as it didn’t harm Jack.
“What an enticing offer!” Rin was seriously considering it. Then he feigned an apologetic expression as he said, “But I just can’t accept it. Sorry. I’m afraid I’m feeling experimental.” He adjusted on the chain so that he was holding his position with his legs, the staff dangling from his elbow as he lifted his shirt and placed the sharp edge of the tool over a section of his ribcage. Just as he was about to draw a line across pale skin, Pitch grabbed the end of the staff and managed to knock the boy off balance by yanking it down. Rin slipped, dropping the tool as he slid down to Pitch’s level.
Pitch grabbed the boy by the back of his neck and tilted his head upwards so he was staring into the Boogeyman’s face. Pitch spoke in a low and deadly tone, “You can do whatever you want to me. You will not mar the body you’re inhabiting. Understood?”
“Whatcha gonna do about it, Nightmare Man?” Rin challenged. Pitch lifted the boy off his feet and threw him to the shadows, which seized him and pulled him into one of the cages. After he was sealed into the cage, Pitch retrieved the staff and tool. “Are you kidding me?” the boy shouted indignantly as Pitch gathered the items. “Your best idea is to lock me in a friggin’ cage?” Pitch didn’t answer or look the boy’s way. He didn’t need to. He felt a shift in Rin’s tone as soon as he caught on to what Pitch was really doing. “Don’t ignore me. Don’t you ignore me, Nightmare Man!”
Despite the angry shouts that turned into pleas, Pitch did ignore him. Rin had but one definable fear, one that he shared with Jack: being alone. He tasted that fear now, and it was as bitter to him as Jack’s fears. He hid in the shadows as the boy thrashed inside the cage, shouting as he tried to break free.
Pitch wasn’t sure who was experiencing the worst of this punishment: Rin or himself. All he wanted to do was yank the Jack Frost lookalike out of his new prison and shake him, demanding that he let Jack go. Though Jack was willing to try and break his phobia of being held down by the wrists, that wasn’t how Pitch wanted to start the process.
He wished he could find it in himself to enjoy this method of torment, but he couldn’t. Not when it was Jack’s voice ringing in his ears. It wasn’t Jack, but it was still his voice. He didn’t interact with Rin once the boy was imprisoned. For now Pitch just needed to endure the panicked screams.
Silence. Silence and darkness and cold swirled around him as the ringing in his ears subsided and Jack was free of the haze that was Rin’s mindset. He shook his head, trying to get his bearings. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he’d been encased in a block of black ice. And his body ached. Rin had thrown himself about the cube and probably bruised Jack all to hell trying to escape. Jack tried chipping away at the ice with his bare hands, but all he did was reinforce the barrier. At times like these, he tended to curse his own abilities. That’s when he remembered the reason for Rin throwing a tantrum and surrounding himself with cold.
How long had he been in the cage, exactly?
“Pitch?” Jack shouted, managing to hurt his own ears as the sound reverberated within the icy walls. He called out for the Nightmare King again, hoping that he heard him. He really hoped he heard Jack. Jack could very possibly get claustrophobic if he stayed inside the icy, metal prison for long. Just when he thought he’d have to call out a third time, something dark seeped through the blackened cracks of the ice. Jack squinted as he stared at the movement. Before he could think to remember just who he was dealing with, the ice broke apart at the darkened seams and shattered, inviting yet more darkness into the cage. Jack curled up into a protective ball as shards struck his back and sides. When he looked up, Pitch was opening the door to the cage and dragging him out by his shirt. “Easy! Easy!” Jack complained, some of the bruises on his body flaring and making him ache even more. He groaned as Pitch pulled him into a tight, possessive hug. That certainly didn’t help the bruising, but the warmth of the Boogeyman’s body was much appreciated. “Pitch, are you trying to smother me? Because it’s working.”
“Are you alright?” Pitch asked quietly, his face buried into Jack’s shoulder as he continued holding Jack without any sign of letting go.
“I feel like I’ve been in a boxing match with an iron bar, but otherwise I’m fine.” Pitch actually squeezed him tighter. Jack would never admit that he squeaked at the tightness of the Nightmare King’s arms around him. “Pitch. Bruises. Help.” Then Jack was being whisked away into the shadows. He landed softly in Pitch’s bed, but as soon as he thought he was finally going to get a breath of air without having Pitch stifling him, his hoody was being yanked over his head. His cry of annoyance was muffled by the blue fabric. When he was free of the cloth, he looked up at Pitch. “Seriously?! A little warning, please!” He sighed as Pitch paid hardly any attention to his exasperation and instead began looking over his torso and limbs for bruises. The largest of the bruises was on his left side. When Pitch ran his hand over it accidentally, placing just a little too much pressure on it, Jack hissed. Pitch prepared to pull away when Jack grabbed his hand and placed it back on the angry looking mark. He sighed when the heat of the Boogeyman’s hand soothed the ache. “How long?”
“I’m not sure. An hour or two at least.” Pitch’s voice sounded heavy and sad. Jack had a feeling that hearing Rin screaming for his freedom was about as enjoyable for Pitch as trying to break Jack’s phobia. Jack touched Pitch’s face, trying to seem reassuring. He wanted to smile when the Nightmare King leaned into the Guardian’s palm, but Pitch’s face turned fierce as he stared back at Jack. “I want it out.”
“So do I. Right now he responds to fear. For the most part. There’s no telling when he’ll respond to which fear, exactly. But that’s the only connecting factor I can find.” Jack rolled his eyes at himself. “Should’ve guessed, really. It is one of your shadows.”
“As soon as I find a way, I’m getting rid of it. It threatened to hurt you just to irritate me.”
“’Irritate’ isn’t strong enough a word, you know.”
Pitch’s lips twitched, like he wanted to smile. “You’re picking up on my habits.”
“Obviously.” Jack leaned forward and kissed his Boogeyman, who leaned into the kiss enough to steadily push Jack down on the bed. Pitch deepened the kiss, running his hands over Jack’s chest and shoulders until his fingers were tracing lines down each of his arms. When fingertips grazed Jack’s wrists, the boy resisted the urge to gasp and open his eyes. But his whole body tensed, and Pitch pulled away. His hands remained in place as he watched Jack struggle with his fear. The tickling sensation of fingertips over his pulse was almost more terrifying than the feel of palms. “Just do it.”
Pitch obeyed, his hands wrapping around and practically swallowing Jack’s wrists. A jagged breath was torn from Jack’s lungs as he stared up into Pitch’s black gold gaze. A gaze he should’ve been fearful of, but somehow found comfort in. This entity of fear would not harm him. He knew that in his mind. He still wasn’t sure he was ready to admit that he knew it in his heart. What was important at this time, however, was that his body needed to get with the program. His body was the one that needed convincing in regards to his safety with Pitch Black.
He maintained eye contact, hoping that it would help even out his breathing or settle his heart rate. He hoped that eventually the burning sensation of hot palms on cold wrists would subside. It didn’t. He dared to close his eyes, still hoping for reprieve from the onslaught of full-bodied terror. There was absolutely nothing worse than the inability to control one’s body. The involuntary shaking was the worst. He knew he was safe, knew he had nothing to fear, and yet his whole body shook as though he were being confronted with his very doom.
But with the closed eyes came the memories of the monkey men. His perpetrators. He felt his arm begin to tingle, the gray area begin to burn. He fought it. He struggled against Rin. He knew Rin was surging forward at the opportunity, realizing Jack’s fears before Jack could stop it. Jack whimpered at the feeling, trembling even harder. Pitch’s voice somehow reached him through the haze. “Jack? Listen to me, Jack. I can stop at any time. I can let go at any moment—.”
“Don’t!” Jack said through clenched teeth, still struggling against Rin.
“I won’t, but I can.”
“I have to do this.”
“I know. You have nothing to fear, Jack.” Jack opened his eyes at that. Pitch’s expression seemed so genuine, and it still looked so odd for the Boogeyman to show that much concern for him. But he had seen Pitch look worse. Much, much worse. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” Jack’s answer was immediate. The involuntary shivering still hadn’t ceased, though. He took comfort in the disappearance of the tingling on his arm that indicated Rin’s presence, just as he took comfort in Pitch’s gaze.
A slight smile crept across Pitch’s lips as he placed a light kiss on Jack’s creased forehead. Jack sighed at the contact, and for the first time his body went still. He wasn’t shivering at all. The warmth of Pitch’s hands on his wrists felt good, suddenly. He wasn’t intimidated. He wasn’t scared. He felt . . . okay. Until Pitch’s grip tightened ever so slightly. Then he arched his back, bucking against the sensation and gasping as he shook even more. Fear swelled inside his chest as his heart picked up speed and his lungs hammered within him. He fought the hold, but Pitch didn’t release him. He struggled underneath the Boogeyman, whimpering as he realized Pitch wasn’t going to let go without his say-so. Suddenly his legs felt constricted by Pitch’s weight, he felt like he was being suffocated by Pitch’s heat, and he felt like he was going to scream from the panic building up in his chest.
And then it stopped. Pitch pulled away, stepping off the bed entirely. “I can’t do this.”
“What?” Jack struggled to get himself under control, looking over at the Boogeyman.
“I can’t. Your fear. I can’t . . .,” Pitch trailed off, crossing his arms and looking down. He almost looked ashamed of himself. “Your fear is distasteful to me, now.”
Jack felt uncomfortable. He almost felt intrusive, as if this was something Pitch hadn’t meant to say aloud. But he had. And Jack didn’t know what to do. “I have to stop being scared.”
“I can’t hold you down until you don’t struggle anymore. It’s too . . . raw. And your terror tastes awful now.”
“I’m trying to understand how fear can bother you. Are you hearing yourself?”
Pitch looked up at him, exasperated. “It’s not just any fear, Jack. It’s yours. Your fear is acid on my tongue. It burns me to feel it, and I hate it because it’s stopping me from—.”
“Doing your job?”
“Helping you.” Jack would never understand how the Nightmare King’s priorities had changed so drastically in such a short amount of time.
“We’ll find a way.” Jack’s hands were still shaking. He could feel the tremor in his shoulders as he sat up and reached for Pitch. Pitch’s arms encircled him and drew him closer. Jack felt like he could get lost in that embrace.
“Let me figure this out,” Pitch begged against Jack’s hair.
“Okay.”
“Will you please rest now? I can practically feel your body growing weary.”
Though the statement was creepy in its own right, Jack smiled. “Yes.”
“You’re mine. Only mine.”
Jack’s smile widened as the Boogeyman’s arms tightened possessively around him. “Pitch?”
“What?”
“I think you’re the one who needs the rest. Your humanity is showing.”
“Shut up.” Jack did, especially when he felt Pitch’s lips curve against his shoulder.
Pitch never slept. He tried not to. He had good reason not to. More often than not, he tended to relive his past while he rested. His past was gruesome. It was bloody. Moreover, it was utterly heartrending and sorrowful. He had much to regret and much to miss. Whether the Guardians realized it or not, his villainy stemmed from his heavy losses. And he’d lost much because of them. But falling asleep with Jack in his arms was an idea he welcomed. The only feeling that he liked better was waking up with Jack still curled against him. And his sleep had been dreamless. He liked to think it was strictly because of Jack’s presence.
Rest didn’t come easy to the Nightmare King. However, some higher power saw fit to allow him some reprieve that night. Touching Jack’s serene face, realizing he hadn’t seen the boy look so peaceful in such a long while, he found himself secretly thanking the Man in the Moon for such a splendid spirit. He’d be loath to admit it to anyone else, but he at least admitted it to himself.