A/N: I shall answer some of your questions! :)

glumbumble: Oh dear...wait, are any of the bait objects iron? That would derail this little fae hunting trip fast, since fae are weakened by iron, so they instinctively avoid it themselves...will Jack have a tendency to talk to himself?

-No, but iron will be in use shortly! Jack does that, yes. That's what happens when you're lonely. *shrug*

Guest: Intersted with where this is going. Will the other guardians be making appearances?

- :) I don't plan to make them characters, no.

Mael broke from his comrades, giving Pitch a curt nod and kneeling with the rest of the rope at the boy's legs, where he wound the short length around his bony ankles and tied the end securely, giving the knot a tug and slicing the extra rope free with his knife. He then hoisted the boy up and over his shoulder, motioning to Ryan to open the back and unceremoniously dropping the limp body inside before twisting the end and slinging that over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The boy hardly weighed a thing.

Jack had less than a clue as to how long he was out. His consciousness seeped back to him like water through the tiny cracks in cupped hands, little by little allowing thought and pain into a world of darkness and numbness. The first thing he noticed, though his eyes were still closed, was an ache coming from behind him. He concentrated on moving the parts of his body that hurt and realized when his arms twitched behind his back that they were bound fast with scratchy, thick rope. Cloth pressed heavy over his tongue.

The trickle of consciousness turned into a raging flood, crashing through the dam gates and into reality. It all came back.

Jack's eyes flew open.

Dark-why was it dark? It took a few rapid blinks for the boy's bright eyes to adjust to the dim light and realize that the sun had just set. Every bit of him ached-his long legs, which were bent at the knees to fit into the small space he had been crammed into were sore and bruised from the rough handling earlier, and he noticed with a pit in his stomach that his ankles were bound with the same scratchy rope that held his arms behind his back. His pale feet were numb from lack of blood flow. The boy tentatively gave his toes a wiggle before moving on to check on the rest of his physical state: his aching jaw, from being open for hours around the gag; his swollen left cheek from the blow of the huge man's knuckles.

Something was not right here. Scratch that-there was a lot that wasn't right here. Those men shouldn't have been able to see him, let alone touch him and wrestle him into this...what was it, anyway? The cramped space in which Jack was held was built of crosshatching sticks, and a rope tied and locked from the outside what looked like the opening of a makeshift cage. Fantastic.

Back to the question at hand. Of course Jack knew the children could interact with him-their innocent minds didn't question the reality of his presence like adults did (well, make that most adults, after today). It was completely and utterly impossible. Unlikely at the least. But there would be lots of time, Jack was sure, to figure that whole thing out later. That's what he got for being cocky and getting too close to the humans.

For now, he was not in a good spot. The boy groaned weakly and leant forward to free his scrawny shoulders and arms from the dull pressing ache of the bars that he rested upright against in an attempt to identify his surroundings...and the sounds that pummeled his newly recovered senses.

An obnoxiously loud mixture of laughter and gruff voices came from not 10 yards in front of where Jack was held captive. He squinted to make out the scene ahead: lots of men, too many to count in the dim light, were huddled around a bonfire, seated on what looked like log stumps and passing around large mugs. A few of them the boy recognized as his captors, but he couldn't be sure with the shadows cast by the flickering firelight.

It was by chance that one of the men happened to turn around on his seat to lock eyes with Jack.

The boy glared in the man's direction, not giving up a cent of his dignity by trying to speak around the fabric stuffed into his mouth but instead challenging him silently with a feral shine in his cerulean eyes. Jack almost regretted his brashness when the dark form stood, pointing in his direction and motioning to the others that surrounded him with slurred words he couldn't make out.

Almost.

Still he stared, furrowing his brow in a silent dare that was matched when the man and one of his companions reached Jack's cage in just a few heavy steps.

When they got as close as they could they crouched to Jack's level so that he could clearly see both of them inches away from the wooden bars; they were both huge, and sported red-brown hair and unshaven stubble. When they spoke, Jack could smell their breath, putrid and strong with alcohol. Still Jack refused to move, refused to show weakness by shrinking back against the bars, refused to break eye contact.

Unmoved by his silence, the brutes proceeded to ask him questions, as if he could answer them. The boy rolled his eyes and turned his head to look straight forward, doing his best to ignore their gruff demands that he tell them what the hell he was and where he was from. He wasn't going to cooperate with these men. What business did they have plucking him rudely from his home and stuffing him in a cage? He hadn't done anything wrong. He was lonely and the village children liked playing with him.

Jack furrowed his brow once again, determinedly staring straight ahead, focusing on his pale feet as he tried to wiggle each of his numb toes. He heard one of the men snarl before he was made acutely aware of pain as a large hand gripping a fistful of the shock-white hair at his crown, wrenching Jack's head back against the bars and his chin up. With a sharp intake of breath through his nose the boy screwed his eyes tightly shut, blocking out the world and wishing for unconsciousness once again. A whimper escaped his sore throat before he could stop it. Why was this happening? Jack felt searing hot breath against the shell of his ear but couldn't make out the words of the men over the shrill ringing in his head. Biting down on the cloth between his teeth as hard as he could, the boy came to the sickening realization that he was at these men's mercy. Just as he felt hot tears begin to well under his lids, the fingers untangled themselves from his hair and the pain was reduced to a dull throbbing in his snowy roots. He let his breath out all at once in relief and let his chin slump down to his chest, eyes still closed, listening for the men. But instead of being met by more gruff insults and incoherent growls, a clear voice met his ears. Now he heard words he could make out. It was not the harsh voices of the burly men that had attacked him, but a rich, smooth accent that cut through the darkness of Jack's despair.

Jack opened his eyes.

The dark, smooth voice came from directly behind him accompanied by a rustling as the gag knotted at the back of his head was blessedly untied and removed. Jack could finally breathe completely and deeply and breathe he did, gasping and taking in hitching lungfuls of air as he tried not to cry. The strange man knelt next to the cage as Jack rotated his sore jaw and tried to get the terrible taste of the fabric out of his dry mouth.

"So. You're awake, faerie." came the simple statement in the voice from his right. Jack frowned and reluctantly turned his head to meet the stranger's watchful eyes as he scanned him from head to toe. The man's amber eyes flickered like candle flames. This one didn't look anything like the others-he was thinner, paler, and lithe, with black hair, a sharp chin and deeply contoured cheekbones. His skin was an unhealthy shade of almost grey and he looked at Jack like one would a horse at an auction. Jack didn't like him one bit.

The boy clenched his jaw, glaring into the man's eyes with a new vigor.

"No need to be like that. It would actually be better for you in the long run if you were to...open up a bit." The man sneered, his voice dripping with condescension.

"I suppose you can thank me later for getting those men off of you. Their methods are a bit less humane than I would prefer, but, ah, you aren't human, are you?"

Jack's glare didn't waver, but his hoarse voice came out less strong than he would have liked.

"How can you see me?"

Only the children of the village should be able to see him...because they believed he was real. He should have, he should be been invisible to adults...

All at once a sickening realization caused the boy's heart to sink, a pit forming in his stomach.

The children had told their parents.

And now they believed.

Jack blinked twice as his eyes started to water again.

Pitch raised an eyebrow. "If you couldn't already tell, you aren't exactly in a position to be asking questions."

"I'm not in the position to feel my feet, either." The boy shot back weakly.

That drew a light chuckle from the man knelt beside him.

"I apologize. You put up quite the fight earlier, but I suppose this isn't necessary now," he said, nodding at the ropes wound tightly around Jack's thin ankles. "is it?"

Jack averted his gaze for a moment, wondering why the man was showing something that vaguely resembled sympathy.

"No." He replied, voice barely over a whisper.

"That's what I thought." With that, the man rose and stepped to the far side of the cage and for a moment Jack thought he might open the door to untie him-a chance at escape set his heart fluttering-but his hopes were dashed when Pitch looked up at him wryly before reaching just his hands through the bars to work on the ropes. Jack didn't speak as Pitch pulled at and loosened the knots, but for some reason the man insisted on talking to him.

"Those men were drunk."

Jack could still hear the laughter and loud voices coming from the fire pit a few yards away-at least they had forgotten about him for the time being.

"I know." A few moments of awkward silence followed as Pitch continued untying the boy's ankles.

"Look, you have to let me go-" Jack's matter-of-fact request was cut short as a gust of wind rattled through the surrounding forest, causing the wooden cage to creak.

"-the wind, she misses me-"

Pitch deadpanned. "I can't do that. As a faerie, and I know you are-"Jack huffed- "you are a threat to this village and its inhabitants." With a final tug on the ropes, Jack's ankles were free. The boy quickly drew them up to his chest in defense.

"That's ridiculous," Jack mumbled into his knees. "I want to go home."

"Well, boy, I'm afraid this is your home now." The man gestured at the cage in which Jack sat.

The pale child shot him a glare, anger etched into his childlike features, contrasting with the look of his innocent beauty. This close up, Pitch knew the boy really was a prize; his dark-rimmed watery blue eyes shone with emotion and his bluish lips pursed belligerently despite the proof of his helplessness: bruised cheek, bound arms, cage, and all.

It took all of Jack's willpower not to break down and ask what was going to happen to him.

The man looked on. "My name is Pitchiner. You may address me as such."

Jack broke from his thought to meet the man's amber eyes with a searching gaze.

"Jack." He croaked quietly.

Pitch nodded once. "A pleasure, I'm sure. Listen. They are allowing you to sleep in my house-of course, certain precautions will be put into place." Jack looked wary, but mostly just tired.

"I'm not leaving you here for them," Pitchiner motioned to the drunk men around the fire, "to do what they will."

Jack was grateful but he'd be damned if he showed it.

He was exhausted, anyway. He tried conjuring ice after he had woken up but he simply didn't have the energy for it. Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow, he'd find a way out of this-staff or not.

The boy's eyelids drooped further even as the cage was lifted by two pairs of strong arms, jostling the small body inside of it as it was transported to Pitchiner's quarters.

"You sure you can handle this, Pitch?" Mael asked, a sturdy grip on the bars as he lifted one side of the wooden cage up to rest on his left shoulder, the other held by Pitch as they crossed the thresh hold to his home. Preparations had already been put into place; a good sized iron chain with a manacle, sure to weaken any faerie in its hold, had been hammered and secured to the wall. A handful of bad hay had been tossed into the corner of the room for bedding; comfort was not an objective here.

"I can handle it."

Once the two men reached the corner of the room the cage was lowered to the floor. The boy was sleeping, which would make everything easier, for once. Pitch untied the lock and gripped one pale ankle with long fingers, tugging the boy out just enough to lock the manacle tightly around the limb before pulling the limp body entirely out and onto the bed of hay. There was about two feet of chain between the faerie and the wall.

Thanking his comrade, Pitch headed to his bed and took off his boots while Mael hoisted the cage back up and thumped back out the door, closing it behind him.

The man had never slept more soundly.

A/N: Ohohoh. Don't forget to review! Thanks for reading, lovelies! :)