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Jack stood at the mouth of a hole. The walls of it were too unnatural for it to have been dug and more than that, the way shadows pooled together much higher than they should have told Jack everything. Before he could take another breath, he jumped in.
Falling into the shadows felt slightly thicker than falling through air, like he could feel them just ever so slightly against his skin. The feeling was uncomfortably familiar and gave him a sense of vertigo as he fell with old memories of the same shadows from years ago.
After what felt like both the span of a blink and an hour, Jack's body hit something solid and he rolled down a slope into a dimly lit area. The experience was no less pleasant than the last time. He stood up and brushed himself off, looking back to where he came from. Like a cat in a tree, that was when it occurred to him that he wouldn't be able to get out the same way. The only reason the hole was open was because a particularly solid nightmare came out. From experience, he'd known the hole would stay open for a few moments longer after the nightmare left.
It was definitely closed by that point. Taking in a deep breath and resolving to deal with that later, Jack took his staff in both hands, ready to strike at any moment. He slowly continued his path forward and watched as the walls of the tunnel slowly turned from black dirt to smooth grey like they were carved into rock.
Eventually, the tunnel finally opened up into the large chamber Jack had been caught in before. There were some distinct differences though. For one, there were no tooth boxes and in the lack of them, the chamber seemed to go impossibly far down. For two, the cages were not just black anymore, instead they were a dusty gold with web-like lines of black that seemed to crackle beyond the bars like lightning every now and again.
Third, the most jarring of all, was inside the cages, rather than hundreds of little tooth fairies, there were hundreds of horrific shadow like creatures, crammed together like sardines. They writhed and shifted in unnatural pulses and their mouths, always open, moved as though they were letting out silent wails. There were just so many of them. Every cage Jack could see was full and he knew the chamber went much further to his right and left than what was within his sights.
He shuddered as he stood and watched them, transfixed. After far too long, he managed to pull his gaze away and continued his way forward. The path ended in a wall though, and he realized there was far too much ground to cover to go creeping along every path like that.
Giving up on being poised, he used the brush of air his breathing caused to call a wind that could carry him as he bounded from bridge to bridge. He recognized none of them. Still, he went on, searching and searching for any sign of the lair's master. Going up and down for miles to check every nook and cranny as he went. It became exhausting.
Eventually, he decided he needed a break, and so chose a platform sticking out from a wall and settled onto it, running a hand over his hair as he tried to figure out a better way to do things.
The wind he'd created brushed against his ear and he froze. It told him of large space behind him that wasn't there before. Slowly, heart kicking loud enough for him to hear, he turned his head to look behind him. As soon as he did, he stopped breathing.
There, where there had been wall, was now a huge alcove, curving inward all along the way, ceiling and walls coming together toward where, in the middle, sat Pitch apon a wicked black throne. Regal and dangerous and enough to take Jack's breath away.
He was doing something with his hands, some repetitive motion that Jack didn't really understand. He seemed entirely unconcerned with Jack's presence. Though he had to know Jack was there, all his attention was on whatever he was doing. He seemed, different, somehow.
For one, the robe he wore was still black and shadowy, but it had more form to it, more intentionality. Stranger than that, were subtle golden embroidery along the neckline that drew the eye down the long expanse of grey skin exposed. One leg crossed over the other split the bottom of his robe and showed shoes and pants that actually looked like shoes and pants instead of just black covering for the sack of covering like before.
He looked, stunning, and Jack had exactly 0 clue what he was supposed to do with that information.
Then Pitch started speaking and Jack startled, his voice cutting through the silence that had become all consuming. "Hello Jack." Pitch didn't even look up.
Jack scrambled to his feet, bracing his staff defensively in front of him. "Hey." He returned the greeting, threat obvious in the word.
"If you've come looking for a fight, I'm afraid I have better things to do." Pitch finally looked up to Jack and the gold in his eyes had never seemed quite so piercing before. Because of them, it took Jack a moment to realize Pitch was holding up whatever he'd been working on for Jack's scrutiny.
Unable to make out details in the mess of black over Pitch's hands and lap, Jack hesitantly creeped forward, each step followed by a pause as he waited for some trap to spring up. Pitch's face didn't change though, there was no eagerness, or conniving, no annoyance at Jack's pace and amusement at Jack's wariness. Pitch was just calm but there was a small, almost hidden sense of hope in his expression that Jack didn't understand.
It ended up calming Jack as well, and he found the closer he got, the less he felt in danger. He continued until he was close enough to realize what Pitch was holding, but when he did, his brain screeched to a halt, entirely uncomprehending.
"Are-, are you knitting?"
Pitch nodded, sharp teeth showing through his grin. "Indeed I am Jack. And, if I say so myself, doing a wonderful job at it."
Jack blinked. Then blinked again. "Okay, who are you and what happened to the nightmare king?" Jack asked, only half joking.
Pitch laughed, a sinister undertone to it. "I'm Pitch Black, the boogeyman. Still the king of nightmares."
"Right, uh, so-, so what's all-, all that?" Jack gestured toward Pitch.
Pitch shrugged and leaned back, returning to his knitting. "I'm simply feeling better than I was when we first met. In fact, I'm feeling better than I have in a millennium."
"Cool cool." Jack said, standing his staff up so he could lean against it. "Nice to hear. Does that mean you're going to be attempting another take over soon? Because no amount of knitting is going to stop me from freezing you to a wall for the nightmares to snack on."
"Rude." Pitch responded, scowling. "No, I won't be doing that. It's not worth the hassle really. I'd much rather enjoy my time here."
Jack ran a hand down his face. "Look, can we stop with all the mysterious high cheekbones thing? You know why I'm confused, so explain."
Pitch rolled his eyes and took all his knitting into one hand so he could lay both arms on his throne. "During that whole," Pitch flickered his free hand, "nightmare fiasco, I was accompanied by thousands of fearlings. In fact, their company had been with me for longer than the earth had a moon."
Pitch shifted to lean one cheek against his fist, braced up on the armrest. "Some of them are quite nice to have around. They grant me power and company, but others. Others were awful. Whispered the nastiest things, wanted the most vile of results. After the last defeat, I got sick of them always around, telling me how much I failed, how worthless I was. I wanted a break. I caged all the annoyances away one by one and found, without them, my urge to rampage has all but gone. It's quite nice really."
"I have, wow, I have just so many more questions." Jack pressed a hand to his forehead.
"By all means, ask." Pitch's face split into another grin and though Jack was now doubting if any evil intent behind it, it still looked wicked in a way that sent shivers down Jack's spine. "I do so enjoy hearing my own voice."
Jack barked a surprised laugh, reappraising the man in front of him. "Alright. What are fearlings?"
"Children twisted and consumed by fear."
"I-" Jack looked at Pitch, baffled out of his mind, "how does everything you say just make more questions?" He exclaimed, tossing his free hand up.
Pitch just shrugged. "Would you like a seat?"
"I- you know what? I actually would."
Pitch merely lifted his head enough to wave his hand in a lazy circle before once again resting against his fist. After a moment of staring at Jack, amusement shone through. "Behind you, Jack."
Jack twisted to find a seat had materialized just an inch away from his legs, attached to the floor and seeming as though it had always been there. "Right," Jack muttered, "thanks." Pulling up one foot to get on the edge of the seat, Jack sat back, hooking his elbow on his now raised knee. "So uh, okay, how do children get consumed by fear?"
"Well, about half of them, I made."
"You-, you made them? Like you corrupted them with fear and stuff?"
"Yes. Not one of my prouder moments, but yes. In my defense, though I certainly wasn't thinking about it at the time, I could not take a perfectly happy child and turn them. They had to have already been riddled with fear for years."
Jack winced. "Right. Those kinds of kids."
"Yes. In fact those are the ones I still keep around. They're quite docile."
"Okay, so what about the others?"
"Those were created before I-" Pitch drew his eyebrows together like he was trying to think, "I- you know what, never mind. My memory is a bit unreliable. Point is, I had no hand in it. Nobody really knows how they came to be, but unlike my creations, there's a malicious spark in the others. A drive to create more fearlings."
"Right, and those ones are now locked up?"
Pitch winced. "More or less. I'm sure I used to know how to contain them, but now, for the most part, I've forgotten. I can get them into the cages with a few tricks I still recall, but they keep slipping out. It's quite annoying." He scowled again, looking at the nearest cage. "They're very ill-behaved."
Jack snorted. "Naughty kids."
"Yes, precisely. No amount of threatening them with coal for Christmas helps, I'm afraid."
Jack's mouth quirked up. He wondered if Pitch's humor was new or if he'd just never noticed before. "Okay, so what does help?"
Pitch drew his eyebrows together. "It's a bit complicated but I'll try to spare you the details. Lead works as a physical barrier. They can't phase through lead. However, no matter how small, the slightest crack, they can get through. It requires something else to ward them off. I think there was something about starlight? But the stardust I've been able to get my hands on has only been so effective. They're only made of darkness so much, so light can only do so much. They're creatures made of fear.
"The best thing that has worked so far is nightmare sand. It doesn't ward them off, but I'm aware of it and when I feel one of them starting to get out, I can push them back in." Pitch sighed, face drifting into something genuine and tired as he looked to the side. "Can I confide in you a moment?"
"Sure." Jack responded softly, chin resting on his arm.
"It's exhausting, Jack. I've been doing it for years now. I'm not sure how much longer I can. I don't want to go back to how I was." He sighed. "That, really, is why I've been knitting. It's simple. I don't have to leave my chair or really think. I don't know how long I've sat here, but at this point, even shadow travel wears me out. Plus," he took the knitted item in both hands and poised it so Jack could fully see it, "the nightmares look cute in hats."
Jack choked on air before a surprised wheeze of laughter left him. "Wait, you're making hats for your nightmares?"
Pitch beamed, sharp teeth on full display. "Yes! Onyx!"
Jack had a moment to be confused at the random word before one of the nightmares walked out of a shadow. The little hat was immediately noticeable and Jack couldn't help laughing. It was black and despite having holes for the nightmares ears, there was also a set of knitted cat ears on top of the cap.
"That," Jack managed between laughter, "is the cutest thing I've ever seen."
"Right?" Pitch agreed, sounding vindicated. "Some of them don't think so and refuse to wear hats."
"Some of them? So they're not all the same?"
"Oh hardly," Pitch almost sounded offended, "they all were born of different nightmares, they've created and eaten different nightmares, they're all quite unique," On a side note he muttered just loud enough for Jack to hear, "and quite opinionated."
"I love that." Jack said, beaming despite himself. "I love them."
He'd breathed the words out easy as snow but the way Pitch stared at him a little stunned made him rethink the value of the words. Apparently that meant something to Pitch. "Ah." Pitch intoned. "Well, thank you. They're quite magnificent to me as well."
"Right." Jack coughed, unsure where to go from there. "Well uh, I- I think I should head out. You're obviously not up to uh, anything real bad so-" he trailed off and stood up. "It was nice talking." He started to turn before he remembered he didn't actually know how to get out. Looking back at Pitch, he asked a sheepish, "First though, where's the exit?"
There was a faint look of disappointment and sorrow in the shadows over Pitch's face that made something twinge in Jack's chest. Unbidden, old words whispered through his mind, cast out, not be believed in, long for a family, but Pitch once again waved his hand in a circle and a stream of light opened up over a bridge a little ways away. Jack could immediately feel his usual wind calling for him, racing in and brushing past. He easily jumped on it and let it whip him out of the lair and through the air on controlled tumbles before he landed on a solid branch.
Still, something uncomfortable echoed in Jack's chest at leaving Pitch there. It wasn't Jack's job to solve Pitch's problems. His job, checking to make sure Pitch wasn't up to anything bad, had been taken care of. It was a nice chat, but that was that. Yet, even as he bound from place to place, Jack couldn't shake the feeling he'd left something important behind.
He spent the next few weeks in a haze of autopilot. Snowstorms and frosted windows and laughing kids. Everything felt like a cover up, like his actions were a rug he was sweeping Pitch under. It didn't feel right and Jack hated it. Sure, Jack could justify helping as guardian work because it might keep Pitch from rampaging again. Even if he did go back though, there was nothing he could do to help Pitch. Pitch knew the most about the fearlings. If Pitch didn't have a solution, Jack sure as hell didn't.
Rolling his eyes and pulling his thoughts away from that once again, Jack put his focus toward the group of kids on their toboggans at the top of a hill. They'd been there for a few minutes, the whole gang refusing to go down until one of theirs, a little boy too afraid to even set his toboggan down, joined them.
Realizing the kid wasn't going to be able to let the fear go without help, Jack gave a half grin and slowly twirled his fingers to create a little blue snowflake, letting it drift through the air until it landed just on the tip of the kid's nose. Just like that, Jack watched as the fear melted away and the desire to join his friends bloomed into a wide grin.
He finally acquiesced and set the toboggan down. Once he was in place, the kids counted off, and with squeals of delight, they all went racing down the hill. Jack remained at the top, staring after them fondly. They may not be some of his believers, but just getting to see them free and happy to do as they pleased was enough for him now.
The idea of freedom reminded him of Pitch, trapped down there on his throne with the fearlings. Jack groaned and gripped at his hair as his thoughts had once again turned to Pitch.
Then a thought hit him. Pitch was trapped because he had no way of fully trapping the fearlings. The fearlings could be warded off somewhat by light because they were made up somewhat of darkness. More than that, they were made of fear. Theoretically, something that opposed fear should be able to ward them off as well, especially if that thing also shined.
As these thoughts flew through his head, he held his hand before him, watching as blue shining frost trickled over his fingers at his will, infused with the pure spirit of freedom from inhibitions, from negativity, from fear.
His heart kicked up and before he knew it he was racing back to his lake, the wind pushing him faster and faster until he dropped down and weaved between trees and came to a skidding halt before the still visible mark where the entrance to Pitch's tunnel once was. Entirely unsure if it would work, Jack still had to at least try, so with every ounce of infuriating winter sprite he had, he banged and iced and shouted at the spot and caused as much commotion as he could.
Finally, as he was jumping up and down on it, it opened beneath him, drawing a sharp yelp. Down and down he fell until, with no slope to cushion it, he landed. After a short moment to reorient himself, he turned his head to the side to find Pitch and his throne, though it was smaller and on one of the bridges instead of framed by an alcove.
Pitch once again had his head leaned on his hand but that time he only had one eye open to look at Jack like having both open was too much. More noticeable than that though, was the joy that decorated his tired features at Jack's return. "Hello Jack." He muttered on a low note, sleepy and pleased.
Jack hurried to his feet, excited on the notion that he might actually be able to help. "Hey." Jack breathed out on a small laugh. "I have an idea."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Listen, you said the fearlings needed to be warded off by something that- that warded off fear, right?"
"Something like that."
"I have an idea."
"So you said." Pitch's voice was just progressively becoming more rumbly.
Jack, realizing he was wasting his breath and Pitch's small reserves, just rolled his eyes. "I'll just show you, can you walk?"
"I'd rather not."
Jack shrugged, "Fine." And with a point and a twirl of his staff, a much smaller throne of ice and snow appeared next to Pitch's, kept just barely off the floor by wind. With another silent thought toward his friend, the wind lifted Pitch enough to dump him into the new throne and Jack tried to smother the small laugh he made at Pitch's indignant yelp.
Once Pitch was settled, and staring at Jack like he was crazy. Jack started off for the nearest cage, having to take smaller bounds so he could keep Pitch with him without jostling him around. Before too long, though judging by the way Pitch gripped the arms of his throne he wouldn't agree, they were at the closest cage. Jack watched, aware that time, as another crackle of black went up the bars and lashed out at a fearling that was just slightly farther out than the others.
"Let's see if this works." Jack quipped as he let Pitch's throne down onto the floor. Once it was in place, Jack took a deep breath and then launched himself at the cage, ignoring the thrum of fear that came with the movement. As he settled on it, he struggled not to gag at the feeling of the fearlings' bodies moving against where his fingers wrapped around the bars.
It took him a few moments to gather himself enough, but when he did, with one slow exhale, blue frost rapidly ran out from his hands over the bars, claiming the cage like a ravenous web. Once it was fully decorated, Jack realized he couldn't feel the touch of the fearlings anymore even though they were still right by his fingers.
Shrugging that off, he launched himself backward and back onto the bridge with Pitch, leaving the cage gently swinging. After brushing himself off a bit, some part of him paranoid he'd somehow gotten fearling on him, he turned to Pitch, "So? Did that-"
His words cut off as soon as he saw Pitch's face and the sheer awe and relief there. Pitch was staring at Jack as though Jack had performed a miracle and Jack couldn't deny it felt good.
"I'm taking that look on your face as a 'it totally worked thank you Jack you're the best'." Jack said with a cocky grin.
"It totally worked. Thank you Jack. You're the best." Pitch enthusiastically agreed which drew a laugh out of Jack.
"Cool. Well, give me a bit to get the rest of them I guess. How many are there?"
Pitch hesitated. "One hundred and fifty two."
Jack blinked disbelievingly for a second before he groaned. "Dang, okay, guess I'll be here for a few days."
"If you can't do them all that's-"
"Pitch, shut up. I'm doing them all." Jack immediately cut him off and without another word, launched himself to the next one.
What followed was a tedious rinse and repeat of getting to every cage, one after another, landing on it, ignoring the increasingly easier to ignore feeling of the fearlings, spreading fun frost over the entire thing, before bounding off for the next one. It was just that, again and again and again. There were so many it was ridiculous and the more he ran across, the more he understood why it tired Pitch so much.
There were so many, and he kept track of the number, mostly to encourage him by knowing how close to finished he was, but when he'd finally got to the two far ends of the cavern, he realized he was still five short. Which meant he had to spend even more time hunting down the last five and by the very last one, Jack was ready to retire for the rest of his immortal life.
Exhausted, Jack rode the wind back to where Pitch's stone throne had been and, as he expected, found the man there. Pitch was sitting and, once again, concentrating very hard on yarn work, though it didn't seem to be knitting.
"Hey shade man, I'm done." Jack said wearily, tossing his hands out to his side in a 'ta-da' motion.
Pitch's head shot up and he looked at Jack like a celestial body, something grand and awe-inspiring in an endless sky. Jack's breath caught in his throat. Pitch quickly stood up, and with a jolt, Jack realized that was the first time he'd seen him do so. He hurried over to Jack and brought along his project. As soon as he was close enough, the fabric was tossed around and thrown over Jack's shoulders until it settled into place where Pitch could tie it up in the front.
"I'm unsure if you really need warmth." Pitch started, fussing with the item and how it laid over Jack. "The hoodie could simply be what you like. I, also, am not entirely certain you even like fashion from your birth decade, but I hope you'll accept this from me." He finished up in the very front, letting his fingers linger on Jack's chest just below the joining of the cloak as he stilled.
They both stood there in silence, some great unspoken string wrapped around them both, and Jack found himself entirely unsure what to do. The point of pressure of Pitch's fingers was by far the most attention grabbing thing but even beyond that, between his own fingers, which Jack had instinctively brought up to the edges of the cape, was a knitted underside, yarn impossibly soft and dense. The outside was softened leather, plain brown but Jack could feel the texture of some kind of embroidery at the very bottom.
"It's not done." Pitch once again spoke, voice gentle as though he were trying not to disturb something, and Jack found it in himself to meet Pitch's eyes, wondering how he'd never realized just how gorgeous the gold and silver there were. "But, thank you Jack."
Jack shrugged. "Just uh, doing my job. Guardian and all."
Pitch chuckled and the sound sent a shiver through Jack. "No, beyond that. Thank you for talking, for asking, for listening." He brought one hand up to Jack's cheek and Jack found himself leaning into it. "Thank you for caring, and for believing in a solution, believing me. Thank you Jack," Pitch paused with a gentle smile, tilting Jack's head slightly higher as his eyes danced over Jack's face before he made eye contact again, "for being who you are."
Jack gave an uncomfortable chuckle, feeling entirely too much everywhere but especially in his chest which he was pretty sure somehow had something stuffed into it. "No problem boogeyman. You uh, you want to play chess?"
Pitch blinked in an uncomprehending moment before he let out a full laugh. "Yes Jack," Pitch agreed, radiant in his joy, "I would love to." He pulled away and instead settled one hand between Jack's shoulder blades to guide him forward. "I have just the place."
"Neat. Hope you're not a sore loser." Jack quipped, everything in his chest turning light and still just as filling. As he walked with Pitch to whatever secret game room he had, Jack felt a simple comfort settle around him and he realized he'd be returning there quite a bit from then on.
"Not at all, Jack. Not for you."