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Three years.
Three years the children had been screaming, and cowering, and crying.
Three years the Guardians had been endlessly comforting the ones they could get to, and worrying about the ones they left behind.
Three years Jack had been trapped behind bars of nightmares.
And Pitch had never felt stronger.
The child was curled up, hiding behind the brick wall of a shed, crying as planes flew overhead.
“Kid, just… just… look at me. Hey! Hey! I’m right here, why can’t you…” Jack sighed, turning away and running his hands through his hair, dirtied by the dust of fallen houses and bombs. He tried picking the child up, but fell straight through her, feeling weaker each time he tried to grab her. Jack stepped backwards, his vision clouding from the nausea he thought he’d never feel again. Another loud explosion and she screamed above the sound. Jack turned away, unable to face the helpless child, and was almost knocked down by flying rope-like extensions of shadow. He hadn’t told Pitch where he was going – he wasn’t even sure he had seen him for long enough to have a proper conversation. But these thoughts were quietened when Jack saw the Nightmare King much larger than he last remembered, with more sand than he’d ever seen surrounding the three of them, lapping up around the small girl.
*
Jack looks up at Pitch, wide-eyed and pleading.
“Help her, please, you have to help her. Look, she’s done nothing wrong, she-”
“I’m sorry, Jack.” Pitch is calm. He’s been through this before. “Jack, you know that the humans make mistakes. We can’t change them, as much as we want to. We can only hope they believe in us. I’m sorry, Jack. But if you save one, you’ll want to save them all.”
Horns of trucks sound in the distance. A tear slips and freezes before it hits the ground, washing away the dirt in a line from Jack’s face.
*
“You should have stayed back.” Voices. Orders.
“It’s not safe for you here.” Louder. They see her through the broken wall.
“Come to me, Jack.” Slow footsteps. Jack presses his face against Pitch’s chest.
“Don’t look.” People with guns run through the shattered door. Towards the girl, alone, sobbing. Shouting in a foreign language.
Pitch covers Jack’s head with his hands as a soldier raises his gun.