Jack was actually proud of himself, for how much he's actually grown and matured. He'd grown up more in thirty years than he has for the three hundred-plus years he's been alive. He's learned to take labels like good and evil with a grain of salt. He's learned that people are not their past, nor are they their mistakes and that the leopard can, in fact, change its spots.

Jack has also learned that darkness is not synonymous with evil. Even if he may be the only one who thinks so, there are no such clear-cut lines between good and evil. It was only when they had first defeated the Nightmare King did he start thinking about such things.

What determines whether one is good or bad? Is it a question of morals or ethics? Does it include character, intentions? Do they look at the person as a whole, or in compartments? Do they think someone is beyond redemption? Do they think that the person who is bad is inherently bad? That they enjoy spreading malice?

While Jack agrees there are such psychopaths roaming the earth, he believes that many are people forced into such tumultuous situations that force them to behave in such a fashion. In Pitch's situation, that premise rang true. Pitch as he is now is vastly different from the Nightmare King they'd first gotten acquainted with.

It was exactly this that let him agree so easily to go with Pitch though he chose to go back to being the Nightmare King. He's matured enough to learn that the world is entirely lived in the grey and him tagging along does not make him evil by proxy. Nor does it mean, or would ever mean that Pitch would become a tyrant hellbent on power if such a situation never happens again.

Pitch is far more mature than he, anyway. Dare he say, far more mature than all the Guardians? For how long they've actually known each other, Jack scarcely knows their past, their history. How early in the game they became Guardians and how old they were, how mature they were.

These thoughts come unbidden right before he wakes up from the limbo of sleep, toeing the precipice of consciousness when he realizes he has a choice of continuing to dream or getting up from the comfort of his chilled bed. He doesn't hate it, though, this introspection. Jack sees it as a necessary part of maturing and growing up, something he'd lacked for the better half of three hundred years. It was good it happened right after he learned he was about to wake up, because unlike his dreams which he forgets a majority of in the first half hour he spent awake, he remembers these conversations with himself.

"I didn't come here to fight." That was Pitch's voice, wasn't it? "I was worried." A pause. "Actually, Sandy would have been a better option, but you will do."

Jack's eyes opened, sight caught on the burning log fireplace lined with red bricks and for a moment he wondered when the hell they got that in their bedroom before he realized it looked so damn familiar. Furrowing his brow, he sat up and felt the cloak that was placed on him slide down to his waist.

This was definitely North's workshop he was at and for a brief moment he wondered if he was still dreaming. Every once in a while he had dreams where the other Guardians would grace him with their presence.

The whispers he had heard stalled and Jack looked over the back of the couch he was laid on to see Pitch and North at the opening of the loft, Pitch leaning back against the frame of the open space and North just to his right.

"Jack," Pitch's voice was filled with relief as he uncrossed his arms and strolled the few extra steps to the back of the couch, heated hands caressing his cheek and Jack leaned into it, confused about a lot of things but letting it sit on the backburner while he indulged himself with Pitch's touch.

"Hey. G'morning." Jack nuzzled into his palm, voice laden with sleep. He yawned as he stretched out, arm stretching up while his legs stretched out, letting the cloak slide off. It was a nifty little thing, charmed to keep Jack cool at the worst of times. Sitting up, he surveyed his surroundings. Yup. Definitely North's workshop. Which begs the question, why? "What're we doing here?" He asks after a moment, looking back over the couch to North and giving a wave. "Hey North." He greets, watching as North's lips pursed against saying anything.

Of course, he kinda knew their reunion would be awkward and tension-filled. Jack did disappear from their lives rather abruptly. He wasn't prepared to meet them ever, and yet here he was. Because of Pitch. A reason he hasn't yet made into an equation but there was no use in letting his initial emotions get the best of him (surprise, anger, confusion, betrayal maybe) without knowing Pitch's reasons first.

See how much he's grown up?

"Jack." North decided on the greeting, curt and filled with emotions that Jack probably deserved given how he left. Pitch spared a glance to North who kept his mouth firmly shut before looking back to Jack.

"I was worried." Pitch said, though it was carefully, as if he was waiting for Jack to blow up at being brought back to the Guardians and maybe, once upon a time (probably just half a year ago) Jack probably would have. The last outburst Jack had had was when he'd expressed to Pitch how he felt becoming a Guardian was the biggest mistake he'd ever made and that wasn't that long ago, all things considered.

Jack took a moment to let his statement sink in, working through his thoughts as to why Pitch had reason to worry. In himself, there was no reason to worry. Everything seemed completely put into order. But maybe that surveyance was through the lense of someone inexperienced. What could Pitch possibly see in him that would cause worry?

"You've been sleeping a lot." Pitch began again, tone still careful: worry at the edges of his tone but with a certain distance as if gouging Jack's reaction. Jack hadn't really thought he'd been sleeping a lot. In all honesty, the sleeping helped him sort out his thoughts and he hadn't really slept all those years watching over Pitch so to him, it was a necessity. It wasn't like they have a clock in their room, so it truly could be worrying for him to keep on sleeping like he was. Seeing how Jack was processing the information and has yet to react unfavorably, to which Pitch would have to calm him down, Pitch deigned it safe enough to continue. "I was concerned it might've been because of the lack of belief from children."

Jack purses his lips against the first instinct to spit out a defense: I told you I'm fine, why would you bring me back? That statement in itself was unneeded and would go unheeded by the other party. Worry itself was unprecedented, but he'd listen to Pitch's reasons. A mature person would do that, wouldn't they?

Death and life lie in the power of the tongue, and all that.

Carefully, he speaks, "I'm sorry for worrying you." He makes sure to make eye contact with Pitch, and then North afterwords, finally putting a name to the tension in his facial muscles. Jack looks back to Pitch before looking around again.

"It's only North here," Pitch answers him without him having to question it. "I thought the others would only cause more headaches were they informed." And man, wasn't that the truth. Two people needlessly concerned about his well-being was enough. Though the needless part was up to debate. Tooth would let out too much anxiety, easily seen by the beat of her wings and the pitch of her voice. Bunny would completely overreact and then berate him for his decisions which, although Jack was a hair's breadth more mature than he was a few months ago, he has yet to figure out how to set clear boundaries and keep them without throwing a fit when he spoke to Bunny.

"Thanks." Jack throws him a grateful look as he stands, letting the cloak fall to the couch. Well, let's not make this any more awkward, shall they? Jack rounds on the couch, coming to be between the two, standing more near Pitch as was the custom for him since he'd woken up. "I'm awake now. So, can I be apart of this conversation?"