Hash It Out

The ride was mostly quiet and quite reminiscent of their earlier trips together on Onyx. Back when they were tentatively interested in one another, scouring the world for places Pitch could quietly sip fear from, and before the darkness of others' hearts decided to worm into the cracks of their lives.

Pitch made sure that the Nightmare flew slow, if only to feel Jack's cold body pressing against him. Jack couldn't remember the last time he felt so peaceful up in the sky like this. He supposed it took a great crisis and even greater stress to help him appreciate the little moments in between. Still, his mind began to consume him the closer they came to the North Pole, and he could not help but murmur, "Why Gowdie?"

Pitch shifted lazily behind him, burying his nose in his white hair. His hands were threaded through the Nightmare's mane. Like he was still afraid to touch him. "Why Gowdie what?"

"Why everything?" Jack clarified quite unclearly. "Why is she doing this? Why did she turn against you? Why did she set Irdu on me, even if she didn't mean for the…Fearling to get in? Why did you take her in all those years ago?"

"How do you know about that?"

"She told me." Jack relayed what happened months earlier, back when he was rescuing Pitch's precious china set from his lair. "I guess it all makes sense now, you taking her in."

"What do you mean?" Pitch's demand was sharper than need be.

"You saw something in her that reminded you of your daughter." Jack tasted the girl's name on his tongue, but with the way Pitch spoke of her earlier, he did not say it. It was too…holy. Too important to be casually compared to one such as Isobel Gowdie. He did not want to insult Pitch, though something in his stiffening body told the young spirit that he probably already did. "I mean, you weren't replacing her, but you were lonely. Whether it was during the time the Fearlings let you out or not, it sparked something in your heart."

"You're romanticizing it." The landscape was quickly changing into pale white. The visibility of the sun's physical form was scarce in the pole until March, still some ways off, so they would have to make do in the nearly non-existent light. "She was nothing more than a scrap of nothing I plucked out of the shadows."

"Then you tell me what really happened between you two." A sly grin stretched pale lips. "She said you were like family. Though if you're suggesting she meant more to you—"

Pitch grinded his chin into his skull, making him squeal. "No."

"Ow, ouch! Hey, alright. How about you just tell me what she meant to you."

The Nightmare King paused to collect his thoughts. Reminisced back through decades, centuries. "No one…ever really took her seriously. When she confessed to being a witch. She used to be—still is, as you've seen—a beautiful woman with enough pride and confidence in herself to go around. She was always admired for her skill, her manners. Men used to speak with her in hopes of claiming a lock of her fiery red hair."

"Wait, red hair?" Jack squawked.

"Ah, yes." Pitch clicked his tongue like a disapproving father. "She went through a phase last century that she hasn't gotten past, it seems."

Jack snickered half-heartedly. How was that Isobel Gowdie the same woman who was trying to tear Pitch's home from him? "How did you two meet?"

"I tried to scare her as she walked through the woods one night. She was always an odd girl. But she wasn't frightened of me. I sensed something in her, made her a deal, and we were in agreement. For fifteen years, we were…" He faltered. "…I taught her. All I could to stir up trouble. You know how people felt about witchcraft. I wanted to see her get caught, see the fear in her fellow townsmen's faces. But the longer I taught her, the more I…"

Jack had an ill thought. Pitch never told him what happened to his daughter after he was lost to the darkness.

"Well. When she finally was caught, she confessed to everything. Said she met the devil, not me. They tried to kill her. I saved her. Took her away. She wanted to see the world, and I had to terrorize it. We separated, but we kept crossing paths, and I never minded at all. Eventually, I built a place in Lakeland that would be more convenient for us. We drifted apart, of course, later, but…"

"So you loved her," Jack pressed. "She was like a second daughter for you. You got to see what it would be like, watching her grow up."

Pitch's slow shrug was full of reluctance. "Perhaps. Ser…my daughter was younger. I met Isobel when she was about fifteen."

"Close enough." The Workshop was in the distance. "Why do you think she's doing this?"

"I don't know. I can't think of anything I've done that would make her like this. I did not abandon her, nor did she. We simply had other things to do."

Onyx touched down on the slope. The pair dismounted and stared up at the Workshop. The bright, bubbly glow of pale pink that lit up the windows had vanished, probably not too long ago. All of the guests returned to their homes across the world. Jack was certain that the other Guardians still remained.

"I…"

Pitch was looking at him earnestly, his face raw with discomfort and pain and longing. Jack reached up and brushed his cheek. "Yeah?"

The confession was quiet. "When my Nightmares took me after my last defeat, I felt the same fear I felt when the Fearlings consumed me at the prison. I feared that I would forget what I had been through all over again. Everything I had gained over the centuries—Isobel, my experiences, my memories of what I used to be. I thought it would all be gone because of this wretched darkness."

He paused, exhaled harshly. Jack stepped closer and gently laced their fingers together, feeling him tense up. He kept his grip loose.

"When I…saw you. And the Fearlings. I thought it was going to happen again. That I would lose everything to darkness. Only this time, it would be worse."

Jack knew not to brush off Pitch's concerns now. They were real. And they were frightening for both of them. But that didn't mean he couldn't be brave. Or optimistic. "Don't worry. I'm still alive, aren't I?"

Pitch glanced at the looming doors up ahead. "But for how long?" And he marched up the slope with Jack trailing behind until they stood at the entrance.

Jack knocked. No one answered. He pressed his ear to the door and heard the general hustle and bustle of the Workshop. It seemed that production resumed in his absence. Of course no one would answer the door. He supposed they would have to go through the skylight, but then – "Are you still locked out?"

Pitch hovered a hand on the wood and cocked his head. "Bunnymund's wards are as potent as ever."

"Of course they are," Jack grumbled, already calling upon the wind to shove the doors open. They gave a creak and a groan and then light was spilling out on them from the inside. They must have set off some alarm, because Jack heard the yetis shouting to one another. He spied a few elves jangling out of the way, probably off to announce his return. And his plus one.

Not even a minute passed before North appeared, indescribable relief etched into every line of his face. But when he saw Pitch, he froze like a wall of stone, like he could not decide what to feel about the shade just yet.

Bunny came bounding around the corner. As soon as he saw the two of them together, his fur bristled and he went right back the way he came.

Sandy and Tooth floated down. Sandy's smile was small and not as warm as it usually was. Tooth seemed to be the only one genuinely pleased to see them. She darted out into the cold, gave Jack a quick squeeze, and nodded quite regally to Pitch, who returned the gesture just as elegantly. The poor fairy tried to tug them both in, but Pitch hissed when he hit the threshold and backed away.

Jack saw his grey skin blistering with ominous red, and decided that he'd had it. His throat tightened up to screech for the overgrown fur ball, but then he changed his mind. What's the point in starting a fight? He's being childish. I'll be an adult.

He linked arms with Pitch and dragged him away from the entrance. Ignoring North and Sandy's looks, he smiled at Tooth and said, "I just wanted to drop by and say that I didn't run off. I'll see you guys later, yeah? Send a message for when the next powwow is, and I'll be here."

"You're leaving?" Tooth's eyes widened. "What for? You still need rest."

He hoped his smile was sweet enough to give cavities, because his soul was as sour as a Warhead. "Well, I don't feel welcome where Pitch isn't welcome, seeing how he and I are together." He felt more than saw the other two Guardians stiffen. "Unless Bunny wants to lift the wards and let him in."

Sandy grimaced and disappeared to find the Pooka. Tooth sort of tilted her head and sighed. "Jack…"

"If you're going to lecture me…"

"No, no. I…I think it's a good idea for us all to get used to…well, this idea." She gestured to the pair. "I'm just worried about whether it will actually work."

"Let me worry about that then."

She nodded uncertainly. Bunny came by, dragging his feet, but if looks could kill, Jack was certain that he would be eradicated along with Pitch.

Shit.

He opened his mouth with the intent to plead his case, but Bunny held up a paw.

"Don't. Say. Anything." The paw waved, and his voice dropped to a low rumble as he uttered incantations of another time, of a different world. Jack felt the crackle as the barrier dissipated. Pitch still didn't relax, even as they walk into the Workshop.

"You're lucky we need ta have a meetin' right now," Bunny spat.

Jack thought that was the end of it until they passed him. And then he remembered Bunny's fantastic nose.

He cringed guiltily, too late.

Livid green flashed, and suddenly there was a tangle of fur and shadow as the Guardian of Hope tried to dig out the Boogeyman's eyes with blunt claws.

"You—loathsome—evil, foul son of a bitch—I swear if you—ever—touch him again—"

Pitch's wordless roar was no better, and it took a wall of dream sand to force them apart.

It all happened too fast for Jack to process, and while he was grateful to Sandy, he saw the dangerous look the dream spirit was giving his enemy. "Okay, that's enough!"

"Enough?" Bunny croaked. "Jack, you—"

"I what, Bunny?" Jack asked dangerously, because he was this close to freezing the damn cottontail's ass off. "I'm sleeping with the enemy? Oh, my bad. Your enemy." He crosses his arms. "Sandy, let him go."

The Sandman slowly complied, and Bunny gave himself a shake, eyes locked on Pitch's entrapped figure. Jack was glad Pitch wasn't struggling, at least.

"Alright, Bunny, light me up."

"What?" Bunny growled.

"Do that spell you did before. Make sure I'm not possessed."

Ah. Wrong thing to say. It set Pitch off like a spark in a keg of gunpowder. "He did what? You dare accuse me of—"

"Yeah, I accuse you of tryin' ta mess with the kid's head! Why else would he—"

Jack marched up and yanked on Bunny's ears until they were staring at one another, green and blue full of angry fire. "Do the spell."

Bunny slapped his hands away, but forced the foreign words out of his mouth. Burning symbols appeared and pressed towards Jack's heart. He felt their heat more than ever now, but when they vanished and Bunny just stared at the floor like he wished it would open up and swallow him, or anyone – and with a thump of his feet, it could – Jack sort of lost his steam.

"I'm clean, aren't I?" No response. "Aren't I?" Bunny sneered with bitterness. "Yeah. I am. Pitch would never do that to me. And you're just too blinded by the past to see the truth right now."

Sandy let Pitch go. The shade brushed flecks of gold off of him while North rubbed his hands together uncomfortably. "We should be starting the meeting, yes? We have guests."

And just like that, they were heading for the round table. Jack got in Bunny's way when he took a step towards Pitch, but he was not stepping in for an attack.

"Just remember," Bunny said hoarsely, "that when this all falls apart, we'll be waiting, Pitch. You know what that evil inside you does. It latches onto everything you love, and you let it because you can't stop it. When it takes Jack – and I know it'll come after him, I know. May not be now, may be ages later, but either way, when it takes him, we will be there to drag him out when you can't. But before that, we will come after you, and we will make sure that you never rise again."

He stomped away. Jack felt an insult burning at his lips, but when he looked at Pitch, he was surprised to see that the man appeared hopeful. "What're you so happy about?"

He looked like he was trying not to laugh. "Did you not hear him?"

"Uh, yeah. That's a death threat, I'm pretty sure."

"Yes, but you're missing the rest." He paused. "That was his acknowledgement. That my intentions towards you are not ill."

Jack frowned and ran over the words in his head. "That part about the evil taking what you love? Yeah, didn't sound too great for me…" But as he thought about it again, he supposed that it was progress. In an extremely twisted, hate-filled sort of way.

"Maro!"

Jack flung himself into the tengu's arms before he had a chance to react, and they toppled. Pitch made himself scarce, if only for Jack's sake. It was clear that he wanted to pry them apart, though his desire was not as extreme as Bunny's.

Maro, in his natural birdlike state, won the tussle and ended up ruffling Jack's hair until it was as wild as a nest. "Kid! Thought you'd be dead by now."

"Aw, but then who'd be kicking your ass?" Jack plucked at his feathers until he let go and helped him up. "Why didn't you come with King Sojobo earlier? Speaking of which, where is he?"

"He went home." They sat beside one another at the table. "And Valentine's Day isn't my thing. My king sent me here in his stead. I have been representing him since I was well enough as part of my punishment for abandoning him."

"He's being generous then."

"I know." A comforting hand came to rest on his arm, and he murmured sorrowfully, "I must offer my condolences. I heard about your friend. The funeral was beautiful."

Funeral?

Just like that, Jack's excitement waned.

The funeral, the funeral that I couldn't go to because I was passed out on a bed while Pyotr was lying dead on—

He felt a dull throb at the back of his head, like the stomach-churning images he had been trying so hard to suppress were pounding at his subconscious, trying to resurface.

Not the time. Go away. It's over and—

There was Pyotr in his mind's eye, lying on the floor, watching him, glassy-eyed, stained with red—

—smells like blood, not mine, why can't it be mine—

—and his mouth stretched thin, but the rest of his body stayed so still, and he spoke like he was a man possessed, like something was trying to prevent him from death and—

I'm sorry sorry sorry please don't—

The pain that blossomed in his arm was from Maro sinking his claws in, and he loved it because it pulled him out of his own thoughts, back into the room, back into safety.

"Jack."

Pyotr. Why won't you—

"You need to breathe."

Pyotr. Breathe.

How could he have forgotten how to breathe? His mouth dropped open and he sucked in a breath.

"Jack, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No," he rasped. When did he hunch over? "It's fine."

"Your definition of fine is not actually fine." Maro let him go and winced when he saw little flecks of blood dotting the arm of his blue hoodie. "Sorry."

"No, no, I needed that." Jack gave himself a shake. "God. Think I just had my first actual panic attack since…"

"Really, I'm—"

"I'm fine." He punched him weakly. "Stop making a big deal about it or Pitch'll come over and strangle you." Probably not, since the shade was occupied by Tooth in a quiet discussion. As to what they were discussing, he hadn't the slightest idea.

The tengu made a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat. "Your first panic attack? I'm surprised. No nightmares?"

"No." He had been asleep since the Sahara, and he did not have a single dream because Sandy kept it that way. And when he slept for those brief hours at Pitch's side, he did not dream. Probably because Pitch did not want him to.

What will I see when I fall asleep alone?

He shut that thought down immediately. Spirits did not need to sleep, and he would not be sleeping apart from Pitch, who could simply…but he couldn't have Pitch soothing his dreams over every time. He needed to do it alone. I'll just have to hunker down later and see what comes my way.

A gentle nudge to his side lifted his eyes.

Maro's smile was mischievous.

It made Jack's body thrum with joy because he had missed the company of a friend. A real friend who was certainly not a Guardian. "What?"

"We could go for a flight afterwards. It's still winter, technically. Let me tag along and watch you work."

"You look like you wanna do something bad."

"Nonsense. I'm fine just watching." He paused for flirtatious effect. "Especially if I get to watch you."

Jack blinked, then burst out into laughter. Maro joined him. He wasn't sure if the birdman still harbored any romantic feelings towards him, but it was obvious that Maro was comfortable enough with their current relationship to joke about it. He was also more open, it seemed, with his emotions, which was Jack considered a small victory.

Pitch must have heard the remark, because he was staring disapprovingly at them. Maro held up his hands and leered. "It's a joke, a joke."

Yeah, Jack told himself. I'll be fine.

Fuinor, whom Jack noted was standing in the shadows when he came in, now stepped forward and rumbled, "If we might begin now?"

Everyone else took their seats. Bunny immediately sat on Jack's other side, ignoring Jack's annoyed scoff. Still, Pitch did not seemed phased as he sat on the other side of the table. Jack had a feeling that he would have done that anyway. He could almost hear the shade's lecturing voice: to flaunt their closeness during a time of strife would not be the smartest move.

Though it was certainly tempting.

"Once again," Fuinor said when they were all settled, "we must fill our young cohort here in." But he did not look too irritated by the thought. "Unless you have already heard."

Jack drummed icy fingers on the wood, sending out pulses of frost. "All I know is that Pitch's lair has been captured. And Tooth said that you weren't able to catch Isobel, and you still can't because of where she is." He paused. "I'm assuming she's hiding out in the lair."

"Correct." Fuinor splayed his hand on the table and with a quiet hush of unnatural whispers, dark smoke slithered across the surface. Jack immediately removed his hands from the table when it neared him, then quietly cursed himself. Pitch was watching him. If he acted jumpy around every little thing that crept in the dark, the shade would start to regret his decision to stay.

Jack turned his focus to the smoke on the table which was starting to pile up and take a definite shape. He soon found himself looking at a scale model of the main cavern of the Boogeyman's lair. Fuinor manipulated it and magnified some of the portals of soft glowing light.

"Each of these areas represent gateways to locations across the world. Here, to Hong Kong. This one leads to Aokigahara. Here, Salem. Sicily, London, Valley of the Kings, Hoia-Baciu, Budapest, Johannesburg, New York City…" He continued on through a list of locations, shifting smoke to identify the portals. He did not name all of them, but when he finished, he added, "These are the locations Pitch said he assigned to them. Unfortunately, whoever knows how to manipulate the magic can change the destinations of these portals. Can we assume that Isobel knows how to do that?"

Pitch leaned forward and ran his long fingers through the dark, grey swirls, contemplating his former protégée. "I never taught her all my tricks. Still, she is of worldly knowledge and has undoubtedly found other teachers in magic. It's a possibility. But I would know if she was manipulating them. I am connected to my home, just as the Guardians are connected to theirs. There has been no change in location, only in…activity."

"What does that mean?" Jack asked

"There have been mass migrations from Aokigahara," Maro explained. "Dark spirits moving through that portal, escorted by the rogue tengu. North, I believe you said there was a shift in Moscow?"

"Yes," the Guardian confirmed. "In the dark crevices where nothing good lurks, the domovye, bukavacs, goblins, and others have been going to one area of the city and vanishing."

"Hong Kong has been experiencing similar movements over the past month, though on a smaller scale," Tooth reported. "It's clear that Isobel is gathering an army."

Jack frowned. "But there have been no attacks?"

"Not since the Sahara."

"And she hasn't tried to contact you guys? No demands or anything, no declarations of war?"

"Nothing."

He looked at the map and, when he got past the nervousness that started winding up in his esophagus, thrust his hand in the smoke and thought about what he wanted to see. The map refocused to a wide view of the entire main cavern.

What has all of this been about? he mused. He had to go back, back to the beginning, back to when they started keeping tabs on Pitch.

Back then, the spirits came on his watch time. They came asking Pitch for…power. But why would they do that so soon after his defeat? After his stand against the Guardians?

They never did that before, but after his greatest stand, they came? Why? Because they were impressed? Because they were inspired?

He sucked in a breath and congratulated himself. Yes, yes, he was on the right track, he just knew it.

Fuinor's deadpan voice intruded in his ears. "Would you like to share?"

"Uh, y-yeah." He licked his lips and messed up the smoke so that it was nothing but a swirling pool of tendrils on the table, no defined shape, always shifting. Bunny and Pitch tensed. "This all started when he didn't give out his Fearlings."

"What are you meaning?" North inquired.

"I think…I think the dark spirits were impressed with him when he went against us." Sandy frowned uncertainly. "No, really, hear me out. After he started saying no, during our patrol times, Faust started showing up. He tried to take the shadows from Pitch, but Fuinor, you said that he had someone helping him. I'm thinking it was Isobel and Ir—"

—du, the sonuvabitch, and he's the reason Pyotr is—

Maro poked him and he snapped back to business. "Irdu. Uh, Irdu. And didn't you say that his mind was being protected? I think that was Irdu, on Isobel's orders."

Pitch was looking extremely skeptical right now, and Jack felt a tad insulted. It may not have been the shade's job to support him in the war room, but that didn't make it less annoying when he didn't. "And why on Earth would Isobel desire to strip me of my power?"

"I don't think she actually meant to hurt you."

He laughed. Dryly. "Is that so."

Jack scowled and jabbed his thumb at Maro. "Faust came and offered the tengu a way to defend themselves. He offered them power so they could get their homes back. Technically, he did all that on Isobel's behalf, if we're going to call her the mastermind of all of this. The spirits that came to you, Pitch, they were looking for power too. I'm guessing they weren't very strong beings."

"They weren't having problems with humans," Pitch pointed out.

"But what about with other spirits? Immortals of the light." Jack waited for the slow nod of confirmation, just as he expected. "Exactly. Tooth, where in Hong Kong are they coming from?"

She wrung her hands in thought, and her form fluttered nervously out of her chair, like she was never really sitting in it to begin with. "Oh—from the not-so-good places. The slums, alleyways, under bridges, underground, places like that."

"North, is it the same in Moscow?"

North scrunched up his nose, then nodded.

"And Maro, if you looked anywhere in Japan, is it like that too? Like they're trying to move away from the bad places?"

"I suppose, yes. I could send out a patrol later to confirm."

Jack raked his fingers through the smoke and a sharp crackling noise was heard as he tinged some of it, iced a bit of it over with his winter magic. He felt a little safer that way, like the darkness couldn't get him. "I'm going to assume that light spirits have the kinds of powers that let them hide in better places. Or let them build their own places, like you guys." He looked at the Guardians. "Fuinor, where do your people hide? I'm assuming it's not with the other elves, the fair-skinned ones."

The king snorted. "Certainly not. Our forests are much less pleasant. And we prefer it that way."

"I guess I could see that."

Sandy formed golden symbols above his head that Jack sighed at.

"My point is that I don't think they're doing this to raise hell across the globe. Like you said, Tooth, not all dark spirits have dark hearts."

The fairy blushed prettily, flattered that he remembered her wise words.

Jack took a deep breath and confessed, "I think they're doing this to find a better home."

He was not surprised when Pitch tried to shut his idea down with a sarcastic remark. "So their idea of a better home is my lair?"

"The kid has a point," Bunny disagreed, and he wasn't even doing it to spite the shade for once. No, no, now that Jack was looking, although Bunny was serious, he was staring at Pitch with a violent challenge in his green eyes. "Why else would they keep silent for so long?"

"Perhaps they're still scheming. Isobel is meticulous."

"Huh. Guess she learned from the best snake in the grass, right?"

"Naturally."

Jack cut off that uneasy line of conversation before it could leave the station and cause havoc. "Yeah, great, she can plan, but I don't think she's planning anything bad. I think she's looking for a way to help these spirits. You know, to, uh, give them strength so they can make new homes."

"Or cast others out of them," Fuinor added darkly. "The Fearlings are very powerful, and while they could be used to build, as you suggest, Frost, they are still malevolent creatures. They and the Nightmare Men will not hesitate to try and take over their hosts. If these spirits intend to take over other territories to make new homes for themselves, then those wretched things will cooperate."

A cruel pit of fear settled in Jack's stomach as he thought about what that would mean. Not only would it be an upheaval of good, but it would unsettle the humans, for many immortals tended to integrate themselves into the changing mortal world around them. "But-but you guys haven't heard any reports of that, have you? So she must not know how to give them the power."

North was nodding. "True, which is good for us. However, we will have big problem on our hands if they continue to flock to the lair like flies. Pitch, how great is your home, exactly?"

"That's already a problem in itself," the Nightmare King admitted. He forced the smoke to show him a smaller version of the main cavern. "How many tunnels you've seen in my lair, not including the portals."

When no one answered, the youngest Guardian shrugged. He was pretty sure no one had exactly been counting when they visited. "Dunno. Maybe a couple dozen?"

Pitch was clearly resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "You're just guessing."

"Maybe."

Instead of an eye roll, he pursed his lips. "Not even close."

More details began to form in the smoke: tunnels began to branch off from the large cavity, and as they continued on, other tunnels branched off from their originals, and as those ran forward, more branches appeared. And then came the caves. They ranged from little rooms perhaps no bigger than Pitch's kitchen, to vast fissures, larger than the Workshop, larger than the main cavern itself.

A slow simmer of horror began to churn in Jack's veins as the smoke went on and on and on until it looked too much like the venomous thing that had lived in his chest for too long, placed there by that bastard incubus.

"You look pale," Maro whispered warningly while the others murmured amongst themselves. Jack turned into Maro's shoulder and took a few calming breaths. The smoke had risen so high that he could see Pitch, but he was almost certain that he could feel those golden orbs burning through the shroud, watching him.

"As you can see," Pitch said, entirely unenthused, "my home can hold endless amounts. And…" He must have given another silent command, because thousands of glowing lights appeared amongst the vast network of tunnels. "There is no shortage of transportation."

Bunny's ears were practically plastered against his skull. "You're a virus."

Fuinor was the one who prevented the argument this time. "Enough. We need to figure out a way to get in there, or to at least make contact. She has not reached out to us. We must try to reach out to her. We need to know what her intentions are. I shall summon my generals, and send word to those who might aid us. As for you Guardians, I suggest calling up your allies. I'm sure they would be more than willing to put the dark back in its place."

Jack flinched violently and darted away from the table, assuming that the meeting was dismissed. Maro went over to him by the balcony that looked down into the vast Workshop and asked, "Are you alright?"

No, I'm not. I'm not at all. "Uh. Yes. Where's the, uh…where's General Moroz?"

"Not sure. Your friends have been inviting him to the meetings, but he hasn't responded, and none of his people seem too eager to be seen either. They've made themselves scarce."

He felt sick. He knew exactly why none of the winter beings were showing up. "It's my fault. Because I got Pyotr k-killed—"

"No. No pity parties, okay? You don't have time for them, and you don't need them either. Forget Moroz, alright? There are plenty of others we can go to for help." Maro looked like he wanted to say more, but he had more pressing matters to attend to. "I must report to my king. But I'm sure there's someone here who would just love to keep you company."

They both glanced back at Pitch, who pointed out a few last-minute details on the map of his lair. Jack felt slightly better, and a little terrified. The meeting was over. What were the Guardians going to do about him now?

Nothing. They have to accept him, or I walk. Perhaps not from this whole operation, but from their friendship. He would still be a Guardian, but he certainly wouldn't keep company with them.

So he let Maro go, although as the birdman flew up to the open skylight, Jack shot frost at his feet and earned an ear-piercing squawk in return. While he laughed and watched the tengu vanish into the distance, Pitch broke away from the discussion and came towards him. Jack lit up and waited to hear the Boogeyman's plans for them now.

"Do you really think Isobel would do something like that?"

He deflated a little. Right. Business first. This was Pitch's home they were talking about, after all. "Yeah. Why is that so hard to believe?"

Pitch spread his hands uncertainly. "I never knew her to be so…compassionate."

"People change." And Pitch was living proof of that.

"Well, we won't know for certain until we make contact."

"Sure, sure," Jack agreed, clasping his staff and leaning against it like he was the smoothest little shit in the room – which he knew he was. "Sooo. What're you doing after this?"

He thought he was imagining the faint growl from across the room, but when he checked, he was not. Bunny – always Bunny – was eyeing them. Then again, so was Sandy. And North. Not as openly as the Pooka, but they certainly kept glancing over a lot.

"Jack."

He brought his attention back to Pitch. "Hm?"

"Do not flaunt our relationship here. Not in their presence."

Jack's heart sped up at that magical word. Relationship. But he noted the command in Pitch's tone, the seriousness in his gaze. "But they're going to have to get used to the idea."

"Yes, but it is better to let that happen respectfully. I will not drive a rift between you and your friends. As much as I despise them, they are good for you."

You say that, Jack thought, taking in Pitch's body language, but even you…

Ashen hands tremored slightly, like they were not fond of staying still. Like they wanted to reach out and touch something. Touch Jack.

He rubbed his face and groaned quietly. "Fiiiine. Geez. You're the one who had to go and expose us anyway." He peered up at him. "What exactly were you whispering in my ear when you rescued me in the Sahara?"

Pitch had a sudden coughing attack. "Wha—what the hell makes you think—"

"Oh-ho-ho," Jack chuckled slyly, nudging him. "Tooth said you said stuff."

"What did she say I said?" he snapped.

"Well, that's just it. She didn't. So what did you say?"

"Nothing. I said nothing, it's none of your business." Jack snagged his wrist before he could escape. "Don't."

"Chill out, I'm not doing anything. Hey, I've been out of commission for too long. Think I'm gonna travel for a while, spread my awesomeness to the rest of the world while I'm still in season."

Pitch gave him a look that teetered on the brink of exasperated amusement. "Even when you're not, you still have your way."

Jack grinned. "Of course. Should probably stop by Jamie and…" He paled. "Holy f—Jamie!"

Pitch immediately shook his head. "Don't go to Burgess, Jack. Isobel probably has the place being watched."

"But the kids!"

"They are in no danger," he assured him. "This is beyond the business of mortals. If you visit, you might be captured, and I will not risk that." Jack bowed his head at the underlying snarl there. He could not imagine how frightened Pitch was when he was taken from the General's party. "I have been checking up on them. We all have. I promise you, they will not be harmed."

Jack protested weakly, "Can't I just go say hi? Let them know I'm alright?"

Pitch's eyes became narrow slits of scrutiny. "Let us say you get past Isobel's watch. You show up after what seems like ages to those children, and you let them know you're alright. But what will you tell them when they ask you where you were?"

"I'll lie, of course," he replied, but he knew immediately that neither of them believed that. "I'll think of something."

"And you won't tell them what has happened at all? Not even Jamie, who had a premonition of your…death?"

"It wasn't a premonition, it was Irdu," Jack grumbled. "I'll tell him it was all a misunderstanding."

"They're too curious, Jack. They are children. And they will go looking for you if you don't give them an explanation that satisfies them. They'll visit your pond, and when they don't find you, they will go to my lair. God forbid they find the courage to stick their heads in. Who knows what they'll find?"

Jack wasn't feeling too eager to visit Burgess anymore. But, "What am I supposed to do? Are they worried about me?"

"Of course," Pitch admitted. "Jamie's dreams are the worst. And the most delicious."

Jack scowled. "Not funny."

Pitch smirked. "Not joking. Don't worry though. I don't exacerbate them. They have even visited your pond, but only a bit. Sanderson comes by and soothes them in their sleep. They've stopped searching for now. Jamie knows that you still live, and that is enough."

Is it though? "So you're saying to just go about my business, but avoid Burgess?"

"Yes."

He did not want to. Hell, he thought that maybe if he was very careful, he could get past Isobel's dogs, no problem. But the last thing he wanted was to risk the safety of his young friends.

"…Alright. I'll stay away."

"Thank you." Pitch bent down and brushed a kiss against his forehead. It was like the air was sucked out of the room, and even as heat bloomed in Jack's head, cold spread through the rest of him as green eyes stared them down.

"What happened to being respectful?" Jack whispered as quietly as he could in Pitch's ear.

The returning chuckle sent shivers down his spine and chased away the unpleasant cold. "Ah, my dear boy. You must be respectful. I, however, shall do as I please."

Jack pressed his cheek against Pitch's, and then hugged him quickly. "I'll see you later then."

"Of course," Pitch replied, returning the embrace by placing a hand on the small of his back. He straightened and called to Fuinor, "Until later, my friend."

Fuinor bowed as the shade melted into his own shadow and vanished. Bunny immediately started putting up the wards. Jack snorted in disgust and went to Tooth. "I'm gonna head out and do my thing. Honestly, I don't think I can rest anymore."

And I don't think I can stay here another second. As long as those wards are up, I'll feel trapped. Like a piece of me is not welcome.

Tooth's smile was small and a little sad, like she understood what he was thinking.

He shrugged helplessly and took off, not bothering to say goodbye to the others. He would see Fuinor soon enough, and the rest of the Guardians weren't exactly pleased with him at the moment. As long as Tooth knew what he was doing, he owed no one else any explanations.

As he passed through the skylight and filled his lungs with the icy air, he spied a shadow darker than the rest walking along the tundra far below. He slowed his flight, waited for the figure to notice him.

The Boogeyman inclined his head.

The Guardian of Fun hummed in delight and waved.