Chapter Text
Pitch sat glumly in his lair, concentrating on a tiny doll he was crafting out of pure shadow. The boy had been a Dream Pirate on his ship so many eons ago, and after his recent defeat the Nightmare King was remembering things he'd long thought forgotten. Frost was so infuriatingly similar to Jackson, his cabin boy from so long ago. His laugh was Jackson's laugh from before the transformation, his grin a shining version of the one Pitch held so dear, even his personality was as Jackson's had been before the Shadow Fever had press-ganged him to the Nightmare Galleon for eternity.
The doll stretched and waved up at Pitch, and a matching Nightmare Captain doll formed almost instantaneously. The Boogieman smiled longingly as the two dolls danced, conjuring a dhingy for them which morphed to a Nightmare Galleon larger than his head when the shadow-Jackson stepped aboard.
The illusion fell apart when a NightMare raced past after one of Tooth's fairies who had gotten a bit cocky, and though the dream-beast didn't notice Pitch's glare it made him feel quite a lot better. Standing, he began to wander the ever-shifting halls of his Realm. Perhaps he would find the passage which lead to his ship, where Jackson's fancy dress uniform still hung neatly pressed on a hanger.
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In Argentina Jack yawned, rubbing at his eyes. The one downside to Guardianship so far was that he had to sleep regularly. Not enough Believers yet to keep his energy high for weeks and months at a time, like North and Tooth, but his handful around Burgess were more than enough to keep him happy.
Pulling his tooth box from the pocket he kept it in, he fell into a snow drift and let the gentle flurries cover him. A trickle of Dreamsand crawled from the pouch in his pocket, and the boy-spirit smiled as he fell into a deep, happy memory-dream.
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Jack looked around, taking in his surroundings. This wasn't his house, or the village, or the forest, or the river, or any of the other places his memory-dreams usually took place. It looked like a ship, bustling with dark-skinned men and women in darker clothes. Some wore dull grey jewlery, but most were unadorned. In fact, save their glowing golden eyes, they just about blended in with the star-strewn sky and the ship itself. Glancing around, Jack called on the memory to figure out when and where he was. Ship, Stars, Adventure. He rolled his eyes and looked at his arm. His jacket was tailored navy cloth so dark it was nearly black, obviously high-end. His pants were denim the colour of dark chocolate, and he knew instinctively that his shirt was tight black cotton. But his hands were pale, not human pale but the pale he'd seen every day for the past 300 years. Something was definitely odd with this memory.
"Jackson."
Jack let the memory take over, watching from inside his own body as he turned to smile as a tall, slender man with grey skin and a hooked nose. He spent a little too long oggling how well the impressive black and gold coat clung to the Captain's chest, and a little more appreciating the jet black pants which tucked into gold-buckled boots. "Good evening, Captain." he said with a smile, leaving Jack stunned and clueless.
Pitch? Why was his memory-self smiling at and- and flirting with Pitch Black?
"You are a cabin boy, are you not?"
Jackson glanced at the abandoned mop and bucket of dirty water next to the mast, and shrugged lazily. "Yeah."
Pitch grinned. "Well, my cabin floor could use some scrubbing."
Jackson grinned and sauntered forward, purposefully swaying his hips a little bit as he walked past Pitch to the door which would lead down the hall to the Captain's quarters. Jack was hyperaware of the wolf-whistles and catcalls, but Jackson brushed them off without hesitation.
The door clicked shut behind him and Jack woke up with a jolt, sitting upright and clutching at his chest, staring dumbly at his tooth box. Pulling out the pouch of Dreamsand, which Sandy had promised was a special blend to help him remember the memories he re-lived in the dreams, he alternated between staring at the two objects.
Grabbing his staff, Jack stuffed the box and pouch back in his pocket with his very own tiny wooden baby and took off for the Island of Sleepy Sands. It couldn't possibly be the teeth, the other memories he'd recalled this past week were just normal everyday things. Market day, taking care of his mom, courting the blacksmith's daughter. The error must lie in the Dreamsand, maybe Sandy meant to give this to Bunny as a joke, or tuck it under the bed of a troubled child as he'd mentioned doing before.
Land gave way to sea, and Jack played at freezing the caps of waves which crested under him for a little while before urging the wind faster. If Sandy was home, as he often had been in this past month after Pitch's defeat, Jack would be able to spend most of his day messing with the latest scientist team in Antarctica. Maybe even rustle up a believer, if one of them had their kid along for the ride.