Chapter Text
Pitch hits the ground hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. He wheezes and coughs as he scrambles to get back up. Stopping to catch his breath is a luxury he can't afford right now. He doesn't know where the shadow came from or where it's gone but he can FEEL it coming at him again.
-This is wrong! - He thinks, calling the wind to help him move faster. Jack wasn't supposed to get involved! His plan had been going perfectly before this! The Nightmare King was hardly ever heard from or even seen, how was Pitch supposed to know he would actually get the boy's attention?
It had been HIS turn! This world would be covered in ice and cold and the Guardians would freeze with everyone else for ignoring him! He's not going to let them, or Jack, stop him. He just has to run, has to get away and find somewhere to regroup and gather his strength again and-
There's a snort and Pitch stops short and looks up, eyes going wide when he see's the Nightmares pooling out from behind trees and under stones to circle him. They slowly close in and he tenses, trying to fight down the mad panic rising in his chest. ”No! No no no!”
There’s a huff behind him and he yells when he feels a nightmares hot breath on his neck. He spins around and is instantly knocked onto his back again.
He manages a gasp before a sharp, wicked black sickle is held against his throat and he looks up into two gleaming yellow eyes and a grin that stretches over Jack’s whole face.
“Where do you think you’re going, Frost?” Jack’s voice is light and playful, almost friendly around rows of sharp teeth. Pitch glares up at him, fighting down the desperate fluttering in his chest and ignoring the whispers in the back of his mind promising heat and fire and pain.
“Get out of my head! You were supposed to stay out of this Black!”
Jack tilts his head to the side, it’s a sharp, jerky movement that is far more unnerving than it should be. The sickle at Pitch's throat lifts, making him tilt his head back to keep it from slicing into the underside of his chin. He sucks in air, trying not to breathe too hard and watches Jack, who regards him with a calculating stare. ”You know," Jack says eventually, ”I wanted to like you. Honestly! I did! I get where you're coming from. I know what it's like, feeling someone walk through you, not being believed in. I manage to make do with the small stuff these days but I still know how it can drive someone crazy. So I get it. I figured I would let the other guys handle this and it would just blow over. You'd maybe learn a lesson and I would ask you to team up with me, things would have been great!"
The smile disappears and is replaced with a snarl of disgust and silver razors. Jack’s eyes widen and glow from the shadows of his hood. ”But you took down Sandy. I like Sandy. He was my brother, you know what I mean?" The blade turns just lightly and Pitch fights down a noise when it cuts just slightly into his skin. "I won’t ask how you did it. I don't really care. There's only one question I have for you.”
Jack leans in close, the grin returning even wider than it was before. His eyes burn like points of brimstone from endless black pits in his face and his breath wafts across Pitch’s face, hot and sharp with the smell of iron and blood and fire.
“Tell me, Frost, what are you afraid of?”