I know this is a short one, but people were confused with the old chapter 5 still being up so I had to get rid of it.

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Jack sat in a big chair with both of his legs propped up. The frostbite from Alec was starting to fade, and Jack was starting to walk around without difficulty. However, Pitch was adamant about him staying off his legs until they were completely healed. The winter spirit gazed wondrously around the open space with twisted concrete stairways and patterns of shadows and dim lights. Jack thought the ground looked almost like the shadows leaves left on the ground when the sun was shining particularly bright; of course the shadows here were much more spaced out and sometimes extended back so far Jack lost sight of them.

"Strip," Pitch ordered. Jack jumped seeing the taller man appear out of nowhere.

"What?" Jack asked confused.

"You're covered in blood. Both red and black. Give me those and wear this instead," Pitch handed him a small stack of clothing.

Jack raised an eyebrow but still took the clothes from Pitch. He unfolded the two articles and deemed one to be a plain black t-shirt and the other a black jacket. Pitch himself had a very sophisticated look, Jack assumed he would want the boy to wear something similar to him.

As if having the ability to read Jack's mind, Pitch told him, "It's similar to your usual attire. You don't have to change for me Jack Frost. I like you just the way you are."

For some reason, hearing the soft tone in the Boogieman's voice made the fine hairs on the back of Jack's neck stand on end. He didn't know why though because he was fairly comfortable around Pitch. They were similar, weren't they? Jack didn't have a reason to fear him. To be polite, Jack gave Pitch a smile. It was the only thing he could manage in his unnerved state but Pitch didn't seem to detect the boy's underlying doubts.

Then Pitch turned away, giving Jack the privacy to change out of his blue sweatshirt. He chose to leave his pants the same, he has had those forever and couldn't even imagine himself in anything else. Jack pulled the black shirt over his head and slipped the jacket over his shoulders. "I'm done," Jack announced so Pitch would know he could turn around.

"Very nice," Pitch said upon seeing the boy. He seemed to be more so complementing his own taste rather than Jack's appearance.

"Can I walk around now?" Jack asked with a whine on par with that of a six year old asking to stay up for an extra hour.

Pitch thought about it for a second, pressing his thumb and index finger to his cheek to sell the act. But he already knew the answer. "No," he said firmly. The Boogieman had gotten accustomed to the boy not being able to walk and it was a good thing-if Jack couldn't walk, he couldn't run away. And it was better to take advantage of the boy's crippled state while he still had Jack's full devotion.

Jack shrunk down, "Please? I just want to look around!"

Pitch had to hand it to the kid-he was a persuasive bastard. The older spirit was having a hard time staying true to his decision with the intensity of Jack's frown. But he was the Boogieman, and absolutely loved to see children frown. On the other hand, he desperately wanted Jack to trust him. So as a compromise, Pitch created a cloud of black sand, firm enough for someone to sit on, and let Jack clamber on. "And so you shall," Pitch purred and started walking, flicking his finger in a 'come hither' motion so the cloud would follow. Jack jolted in his sitting position when the sand beneath him all moved at once to follow Pitch into the dark recesses of his lair.

Jack had to admit, he was excited. How many people got to see where the Boogieman kept his valuables and slept. Jack always thought the Boogieman would sleep under a bed-since it was the common dwelling place for all childhood monsters-but he was surprised to see Pitch slept on top of his bed like any normal person. His room was large with black curtains and sheets, cement walls, and a steady stream of weak sunlight spilling from some unknown light source. Lining the shelves on his walls were books-mostly classics and ones with tearing leather binding-, various trinkets-necklaces, wristwatches, and the works-, and other objects Jack couldn't identify.

Everything seemed so normal. It was beginning to give Jack a weird feeling and he didn't know what it was. If he had to describe it, it would be a mixture of apprehensive curiosity because he knew there was something missing, and guilt for judging someone so quickly. He expected the man to live up to his name and show Jack a room full of dead limbs from people he killed or have a room full of bats or something.

Then, just before Jack could fully commit to his new perspective of Pitch, the Boogieman goes and swings open a new door and lets Jack look inside.

Contraptions. Instruments. Instruments and contraptions of torture everywhere. Jack gaped at the sharp ends of knives jutting out from various places in various fashions and somehow... couldn't find it in him to be surprised. Still, the sight of what was possibly every interrogation method invented since the fourteenth century sitting in one room made him nervous. Jack shot Pitch a horrified look and Pitch smiled back at him. The taller man shut the door slowly, forcing Jack to stare at the mess longer since he couldn't tear his eyes away. "An impressive collection, isn't it?" Pitch asked and shut the door.

"Very," Jack muttered in reply and turned his back to follow Pitch further down the hall. He wouldn't admit it, but Jack thought Pitch had an abhorred air around him. They were both dark, and cold, but Pitch was different. Jack wouldn't dare voice his thoughts-not until he was certain Pitch was on his side. He didn't need anyone else turning their back on him.

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I promise Chapter 6 will be extra long!