Survival

Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians or it's characters. I just give them pain.

Chapter 1: Captured

It had been 137 years. One hundred and thirty seven long years of regaining self-control, self-mastery, training and planning. Pitch was ready. Target: Jack Frost.

It was a day like any other in the life of Guardian Jack Frost during the end of the month of October. Alone as always. Not much snow to gift others without it causing confusion and potential crop disasters for at least another week so snow days were out of the question. It was either too early or too late depending on which hemisphere you lived in. He was contenting himself with just spreading glittering, fern frost patterns and hanging out in Antarctica. While he was officially a Guardian now, not much besides his title had changed, and the fact that time still held no sway over him. The children that had guarded the Guardians during their encounter with the Bogeyman had passed on as had their children. That was the problem with befriending mortals. They were only with you for moments then were taken by Death.

Now Jack did have immortal friends, but they were always busy with their own tasks. He would visit once and a while but always just seemed to be in the way. North was busy at the pole, hammering away at his new creations, just under 2 months 'till Christmas. October 30th was a very busy day for Nicholas St. North. Tooth and Sandy were up to there usual. It was always night somewhere in the world after all. E. Aster Bunnymund was contenting himself with developing new colors and designs. One could never be too creative after all. The current pattern he was working on would put any babushka's handy work to shame. He did love the intricacies the Russian artists would weave on their own eggs when adding to the celebration of hope and new life. Not that he would ever tell that Russian Tosser, it would go to his head! And that was big enough already.

So there he was, in Antarctica. With nothing better to do with his lots of spare time, Jack had begun practicing and training in case Pitch ever came back. Why not? He knew he had untapped potential when he had gone up against Pitch and been stronger than he though possible when he froze the title wave of sand. Surely there was more to his powers and what he had already discovered could be honed sharper. Surely it couldn't hurt! Just as he collapsed into a convenient snowdrift, exhausted from training, a shadow fell over his closed eyes.

"Hello Jack."

Jack felt a finger of fear ghost up his spine. That voice. It was so calm, poisonous, and mischievous. No good will could be felt from the greeting. It only promised pain. On instinct Jack rolled into a defensive crouch brandishing his staff, pointing it at the man's chest where a heart should have been.

"It's been a long time Jack. 137 years to be exact. Did you miss me?"

"What do you want?" He was not going to get caught up in Pitch's mind games. 'Stay on guard. Don't let him get close. If I need to, I can encase him in ice to keep him still until I figure out what's going on.'

"Why, to see you of course! Revenge is best served cold after all..."

Survival instincts flared and Jack lunged to encase said Bogeyman but Pitch was ready. As the ice left the staff, Pitch rose from Jack's own shadow to wrap him in darkness and drag him under into his own lair. 'Now for the true meaning of fun...'