It's stuff like this why I remembered I don't write fanfiction as often as I used to, but you'll see why if you read this lovely little short.

This is a one-shot, just for the record, but I do have a "Respond" policy. That is: if you have any questions and want to know something (anything), feel free to ask me in a review and I will respond to it by uploading a second "chapter" with answers. I dislike having questions unanswered about others' work, so I try to answer things when people are curious about mine. (^ ^)

Otherwise, please enjoy this short story on Pitch and Jack and I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I own the plot of this short and nothing more.

The Memory of Ice and Dark

"The ice-blue spark in a world of pitch black could

be the last snowflake of a long-forgotten past."

It was cold and…dark.

Ice closed in, blocking the Outer World and the nightmares that came with it. Like a shield, the blue encased its summoner, allowing nothing to penetrate its fortress.

Black wisps shot across the mystic blue foreground and black snow trickled down from above. As it touched the surrounding ice, the ice turned black, turning to sand and crumbling like towering dunes.

And as the darkness overtook the light and the ice, a single snowflake was left to float down from the now-empty sky. It drifted through Darkness, seeming to be carried by an unknown wind – the only ice-blue spark in a world of pitch black.

The only flake of a memory of a long-forgotten past.

~ • ~ • ~

Jack found himself calling out for those he had originally been with. The trees around him led to only paths of darkness; even the moon and the stars decided to play a cruel game of Hide and Seek. The snow that fell from the sky looked like falling stars – the stars that made the lights go out.

If it were another circumstance, Jack very well would have found the scenery and the timing to be humorous, but, right now, there was no laughing. The weather had gotten remarkably colder since earlier that evening when he and two older boys from town wandered into the woods. The older children said they wanted to play a game before the moon had started to rise and, being the youngest in the group, Jack felt the sense of belonging – the sense that he had to join in. What he had not known was that the game would turn into a one-sided game of Hide and Seek and that the others were going to leave him. During the day, he knew his way around the woods; but once the sun set and the moon took to the sky, the woods became foreign and dangerous – especially in the cold.

When the cold could freeze the water solid.

The woods at night were no place for a boy of only six years.

His mother would argue that it was not a place for a child of any age. He had been scolded for wandering through them in midday by himself. Right now, he would rather the scolding.

The snow was seeping through the cloth shoes wrapped tightly around his feet, sending chill after chill through his legs. He had been wandering about for so long, having any feeling left in his feet seemed strange and could only be reasoned that it was because he had kept moving.

He stopped short when a chill ran down his spine and he spun around to see a long, tall, dark figure looming in the shadows with only eyes visible. The same figure he had been seeing since the sun set. He froze, uncertain as to what type of animal could be so tall. His eyes started to sting and he took a step backwards; his eyes were locked onto whatever was watching him from the darkness. He clamped his eyes shut. When he opened them back, the figure was gone.

His heartbeat hastened and he found himself running, pushing through the low-hanging tree limbs and bushes. Over and over, he kept telling himself that it was not real, that his mother had even said that the Dark Man was not real. It was just a story that the older kids told to the younger kids to make them afraid of the dark. But if the creature was not real, then what was he running from? Why did he find himself so desperate to flee from that spot and those eyes?

Those eyes that were unblinking

Unblinking with something sinister.

He yelled out again for the two boys he had come into the woods with, but heard nothing other than the sounds of the night and his own frightened breathes and hiccups. Frozen water attached itself to his cheeks as his numb legs were trying frantically to keep moving. The sensation of touch in his fingers had long sense been gone, so when his hands became cut and sliced by briers and thorns as he made his way, he felt none of it.

A hidden tree root in the snow caught the tip of his foot, sending him crashing into the fluffy, white snow below. Pushing himself halfway up, he caught sight of the red in the snow and his breath caught in his throat. It was not the blood that made him anxious or even that he was uncertain if his foot was injured from the lack of sensation; it was that he was alone and had no one to call out for.

No one to come to his aid.

A fleeting thought of anger ran across his mind at the boys that had decided to leave him, but it was gone the moment pain radiated from his ankle. He shifted to his side to see how badly he had hurt himself, but his attention was distracted by that same dark, looming figure staring at him.

It was closer now than it had been.

Face scrunching up into fear, he scrambled to get to his feet as quickly as he could, ignoring any bout of soreness that came along with it as he picked up running again. It was a mix of a run and a hobble, which could have been contributed to the feeling of numbness. He finally faltered against a large-trunked tree, his arms wrapping around it as his body shook and cold tears continued their way down his face.

He fell against the tree and slid down it, falling into a crouch before sitting on the ground and pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, trying anything he could to stay warm. He dug his face into his arms, shutting his eyes.

He should have listened when his mother told him not to play in the woods – that it was not safe once the moon rose. It did not help that the creeping fear that the Dark Man was watching him and waiting to send him into a world of nightmares loomed.

Huddled against the tree, Jack's arms wrapped tighter around his knees as he tried to bury his face as best he could. The sounds of the night closed in around him and the trees, as tall as they were, blocked out the light from the moon and stars. His heart raced and his breath hitched in his throat, chest shaking and body trembling. The snow falling melted through the cloth over his shoulders, sending chill after chill down his spine, not aiding the enclosing nightmare.

Again, his breath caught in his throat.

A step in the snow had his chest tighten as he held his breath, eyes wide. Feeling something in his presence, his heartbeat quickened, pounding harder and louder, forcing more water to pool at his ducts. Curiosity overwhelmed with fear, he jerked his head up to see the same dark figure from before, only this time it stood next to him – so close he could touch it.

His eyes widened and he clung tighter to his knees, frostbitten fingers dinging into fabric and skin. Eyebrows forming creases in his forehead as his vision became blurry with salt, he released an odd-sounding hitch – a half-cry. Yet, instead of raining down on him and engulfing him in a madhouse of nightmares, the tall, slender man knelt down with a soft expression on his pointed face. When Jack pulled back, pushing himself against the tree as much as he could, the man shook his head with an oddly sincere smile and held out his hand, palm up.

Jack stared at the Dark Man's outstretched hand, uncertain on the intent, and he found himself glanced back up to the man's eyes – the strangely generous and sympathetic eyes. Not like the eyes he had seen before, which had been overwrought with darkness and menace. Looking back to the palm-up hand, he relinquished the grip he had around his knees and, slowly but carefully, brought his own hand out. Before touching the other's hand, he glanced up one last time, innocence searching for risk; and when he saw none, he set his hand in the other's, placing his trust.

His hand was small compared to the Dark Man's and, after the initial stages of weary, Jack relaxed. The man stood up, pulling Jack to his feet; his bare feet which were frozen on the snow below. Suddenly feeling an overwhelming sensation of security, Jack released the man's hand and fell into him, wrapping his arms around the tall man's hips, not being able to reach any higher, and held tightly onto the black cloak as he buried his face in the only source of heat. As though taken aback, the man stood stunned, staring down at the small, brown-haired child that had embraced him. Warily, he brought his hand down to rest on top of Jack's head, shoulders relaxing as a toothless smile ran across his face.

An image of a young girl ran across the man's mind and he suddenly dropped down and used his cloak to wrap entirely around the young boy. A fleeting memory of a young female child continued to flitter across the tall man's mind, though he was unable to recall the face or the name; but the memory was strong enough to stir an overprotective bearing around this young boy-child who had placed his misinformed trust in him. The same boy who had been fearing and running from him since the moon vanished behind the trees was now holding onto him for life.

This boy was holding onto the man – no – the creature that every child feared. The creature that parents spent nights convincing their children was not real. The Babau, the Dark Man, the Sack Man, the Bogeyman.

Holding the child close, he picked him up, making sure to wrap him in his cloak to protect him from the frost weather as he took him in the direction of town. Moving through shadows, Pitch kept Jack tight to his chest, holding him even tighter whenever the boy shifted or shivered. As the lights of town came into view, he carried the boy shadow-to-shadow, traversing along the walls of buildings to avoid streetlamps and lights.

Crawling up through the shadows into the boy's open bedroom window, he left the solidarity of the shadows to come to a full stand in the room with the child still wrapped in his cloak. The room was a familiar place of many-caused nightmares, thought he had a feeling he would not be returning to this particular room after the end of this particular night. Covers were already tossed back on the feathered bed. He lay Jack down on the bed, making sure to cover him fully with the wool covers, though the cold had, for the most part, dissipated from the child's body.

He stared down at the apparently-sleeping child before moving to make his way back to the shadows.

Yet, when he turned to leave the child's room, he found himself hindered. Looking down, he saw the boy holding onto the fingers of his right hand with bright and innocent eyes opened and staring up at him. Sighing, he dropped his shoulders, a light smile crawling its way across his face. He sat down on the edge of the bed and Jack released his hand, sliding it under his pillow, instead. As his eyes closed, Pitch set hand back on the child's head, trying to recall a forgotten memory.

But, it was also in that moment that Jack was no longer afraid of Darkness or Night. He was no longer afraid of the unknown or the nightmares within it.

And, because he was no longer afraid, the Bogeyman became invisible to him – as did the memory and the face of the one thing that had saved him.

~Fin

Have I ever mentioned I'm not really good at "happy" things? I don't believe I did.

A-ha! I guess you could say this was bittersweet. Obviously, this was not their first encounter, seeming as how Pitch has sent many nightmares to Jack and other children living in the town, but I had this idea of Jack overcoming his fears due to a little...outer interference.

Please let me know what you thought!

And if I should do anymore Rise of the Guardians-inspired shorts!

Thanks for reading!

SIDE NOTE: A reason this is rated M is because a lot of times when I do responses, they get kinda perverted. ...okay, they get really perverted. And I cuss...a lot. Plus, this could be considered "M" just because it deals with a minor and a hint of...stuff (don't judge me). So...yeah. Apologies for any hopes I shattered.