See the end for author's notes.

Chapter 3. Moon Nostalgia

Two children sliding on the ice
Upon a summer's day,
As it fell out, one fell in,
The other she just ran away.

"So what's an 'A' look like again?"

A frustrated sigh. "Like this."

"Okay. How come W's and M's are just flipflops of each other? And how come 'bead' is with an a and an e, but 'need' and 'seed' are both double e's? They all sound alike!" Jack tapped his pencil lightly as he continued on,

"How come phonetic isn't spelled with an f? And what about—"

"Frost!"

Jack blinked innocently up from his doodle of Baby Tooth and looked up at Pitch. "Yeah?"

The nightmare king was holding the bridge of his nose between his fingers, pinching the area as if he felt an oncoming headache. He was gritting his teeth, all jagged and sharp. He was still the height of a paintbrush, but standing up on his whispy tail made him look thinner than usual. He stood behind a child's blackboard Jack had swiped from the reject pile of toys—half of the blackboard was cracked at the top, which was fine since Pitch couldn't reach the top anyway. At the bottom, written in Pitch's impressively eloquent scrawl in a broken piece of chalk, was the alphabet. Each number had its upper and lowercase, and all the vowels were underlined.

Jack studied this once more, then looked down at his fourth sheet of paper. By the time he'd managed to stop freezing the pencil and paper and making them useless writing utensils, they'd gone through the alphabet three times, Jack had doodled a pumpkin, some new snow flake designs, and Baby Tooth's profile at least once. Pitch had only caught him twice at it, and each time had earned him a whack across the knuckles with whatever weapon Pitch could lay his gray hands on at the time of Jack's folly. Jack couldn't stop drawing though. This was a lot easier than writing, that was for sure.

The frost spirit considered his page, then the blackboard, then his page, and finally the blackboard. He opened his mouth, and Pitch knew it was coming but had no time to stop it—

"…why is it only sometimes y?"

Pitch threw up his hands.

Jack looked out through the window, at an indigo sky punctured by clouds.

"How are you feeling, Pitch?" he asked as he turned from the frosted over glass, looking to where Pitch had gone back to reading on the desktop. He was about twenty pages into Murder on the Titanic, which he had started after their little impromptu writing lesson. It had ended with Pitch having the common sense to quit, and Jack knowing a little more than he started with. But not enough knowledge to satisfying both of them, and Jack had an inkling Pitch would be pestering him tomorrow to continue the lesson.

Their time together was almost becoming a game. Jack liked it.

"…Pitch?" Jack said again, when he realized he hadn't gotten an answer. Walking closer rewarded him with the sight of the Nightmare King rubbing his left shoulder and trying to be subtle about it. The action was hard and repetitive, as if he was trying to coax out an ache deep in his bones.

"Fine, Frost." Pitch muttered distantly, like he thought a cold shoulder would deter the spirit from pestering him anymore. Baby Tooth, perched happily on her charge's shoulder, rolled her pretty little eyes.

Boy, he had a lot to learn about Jack Frost.

"Hey, your arm—is it okay?" Jack was fixed with a glare so annoyed he almost regretted asking the question. The spirit walked closer and, without really thinking about it, swept the nightmare king up into his hand where he fit, sitting on his palm. He raised his hand to better see the miniature king.

"Gyah! Frost! P-put me down this instant or I'll—" Jack never found out what the ultimatum was, because the movement had jostled Pitch's clearly sore arm and caused him to cut off his words with an aggravated hiss of pain. He curled around his entire left side this time, and Jack automatically supported the small figure without question. He ignored the way Pitch slumped against his fingers, which made a wall for him to lean on. While Pitch breathed through the pain spasm, or whatever it was he was doing, Jack went and looked him over. This time, he was careful not to touch.

"It doesn't look damaged…but it's sore right? What didja do to it?" Jack watched, half distracted by the cool, smooth tail that began spreading tentative tendrils around his palm and pinkie. Jack realized that Pitch, subconsciously or not, was trying to find something to cling to.

"What did I do to it—yes Frost, I go around smashing my own body into the ground quite often. It's a poor habit of mine. Looking to get help, but you know how it is." The sarcasm was palpable in the air.

Jack paused. Smashing his body into the ground—oh. Oooohhh.

"Uh. Erh…we…did that?" He asked delicately.

Pitch's empty glare gave him his answer. Jack felt yellow, bile tasting regret swallow his emotions.

"…uhm. Sorry?" He tried, ignoring Baby Tooth's suddenly look at him.

"Excuse me?" Well, now Pitch was staring at him too, which gave Jack a vague sense of accomplishment.

"Sorry. I'm sorry, Pitch. We didn't—we weren't out to cause lasting damage you know? We were just trying to protect the kids." Jack tried to explain, he really truly did. And he's sorry, he is at least. Maybe he shouldn't speak so hastily for the other guardians, who have known the Nightmare King longer than he has, but Jack can't help but feel there's a lot more to this missing story of Pitch's than anyone knows. Maybe even Sandy.

It's just so hard to look at this battered, broken form of a man and imagine him as anything close to inherently evil. Wasn't Pitch Black paying his price already? Shouldn't it come to an end sometime?

Pitch growled at him, the noise oddly animalistic. But it got its message across. Jack sighed and wandered over to the bed. Maybe some comfort would help the injuries? So he set Pitch lightly onto the pillow.

"Better?" asked Jack, who didn't really know anything of the sort when it came to medical aid. He knew ice helped pain and swelling, but had a feeling holding the Nightmare King for any longer than Pitch wanted would only earn Jack a bitten thumb. And he wanted to avoid those teeth if he could help it.

"Leave me alone." Responded Pitch, his tone bitter, and icier than Jack's hair.

"Pitch…" Jack murmured, trailing off with an accepting sigh.

But the Nightmare King curled up, pointedly facing away from him as his tail coiled and curled. Strands of it broke off and lashed, reminding Jack of Cupcake's agitated tabby that was over fifteen years and liked to be left alone. Jack looked over to the windowsill where Baby Tooth was sunning her wings, and where the idle shutter here and there blew from the wind's bored actions. All this teaching had otherwise kept Jack so occupied they hadn't had a lick of fun all day. At least, that's how Baby Tooth and the Wind felt. Jack seemed to think otherwise, so they were content to remain silent, if only for the frost spirits happiness.

"Pitch, c'mon." Jack tried. "I thought we were having a good time…" This elicited such a snarl that was thrown over Pitch's shoulder at him, that even Jack took a step back.

"Alright." Came a sad sigh. "I'll get out of your hair…"

Jack knew when to retreat, despite what other's thought.

"But I'm here if you need me. Promise."

Pitch didn't need to look up to know that the spirit of fun had left silently. He leaned into the deep blue duvet a little more and closed his eyes. Of all the times for that blasted shoulder to act up, tch. It was incredibly easy to loathe Jack Frost when he wasn't around, Pitch had learned. A bit more of a challenge when the spirit was here. For a moment, Pitch could swallow his pride and ignore that damnable smile, the midsummer eyes and the friendly air Frost seemed to bleed into the air all around them, like a flower spreading its fragrance. Was his friendly demeanor endless? Didn't he tire of being so nice and playful all the time? At first, Pitch assumed it was an act. Now, he was beginning to think otherwise. Jack Frost was charming.

Pitch Black swallowed nervously.

He closed his eyes and tried to rest. Seeing as he stuck here on this bed, there was little else his eleven inch tall form could manage besides resting. Yes, sleep would be good. he could pretend he hadn't heard Jack promise to be there for him—of all the romantic, silly little ideas if there ever was one. The boy belonged in a different era, that was for sure.

Perhaps, were he lucky this time, he would dream of her.

And not dream of Jack.

Jack Frost felt very strange.

He hadn't started out that way, of course. If he felt this poorly when he was leaving the ice castle, he probably wouldn't have tried going anywhere in the first place. Certainly, the wind would have buffeted him back into his room and slammed the windows on him pointedly. 'Rest' is what it would be saying, if it had lungs and vocal chords with which to shout.

And yet…

It had come upon him so suddenly. Like a blanket of snow falling from a tree and right onto his shoulders. Odd.

The spirit wobbled in the air, yawning behind his hand as he coasted along the puffy cloud line. The en-masse ocean of clouds were a pretty, soft pink Sophie would adore. Though lately she'd been more into greens and blues lately, so maybe not as much. Jack made a mental note to visit the Bennet siblings as soon as he was sure he could sneak away and manage it. He didn't like waiting until October for the early frost to be able to visit his home, or his kids.

It felt like weights are tied to his limbs, and before he knew it he was dipping below the clouds. The wet sensation of the dissipating billows he was colliding with jerked him awake. With a gasp, the spirit tumbled upwards, panting as if he'd run a mile. The Wind gave a startled whisshh noise and clutched him tighter. They flew together or not at all! It reminded with a scolding tsk. Nervous chirps sliced through the atmosphere from his passenger on his shoulder.

"Ah…hah, B-baby Tooth!" Jack gasped, blinking rapidly to keep the sleep from his eyes. "I, I'm fine! Really!" Something in his voice gave him away, and the Wind sucked around his torso, holding him gently but firmly in midair. Despite the support, Jack wobbled weakly and nearly lost his grip on his staff. He felt the Wind lower him toward the ground, but knew they were too high for him to be safe yet. Below them was a long slope that would lead to a winding trail to North's castle.

If he could just make it back there…

"Hnn…think I, think I…need more…" And suddenly, the exhaustion won. Jack's eyes rolled back into his head. Despite Baby Tooth's alarmed, sharp squeaking, and the Wind's frightened howl, Jack muttered the end to his sentence,

"Sleep…" It was like a switch had been hit. His body went limp—his staff fell from the sky and with it went his powers—and Jack followed.

The ground came up, as Jack went tumbling down, down down…

Something is coming.

North paused at his workbench, leaning back from the final tap a prancing ice horse needed. Its mane was glorious, but its saddle needed some final touches before it was truly wondrous. But now, he cannot find the strength to move his hands into the correct position. He can't concentrate, because there is a familiar weight of worry starting to grow in his stomach.

Odd. He can't think of a reason for this sensation. It couldn't be Pitch, could it?

Rolling a shoulder nervously, North took a moment to weigh his choices. The sensation in his belly, while there, was very small. Much smaller than Pitch arrival not so long ago. He could feel it fading almost now. Perhaps it was merely a Chocolate Crinkle gone off that he had eaten earlier, yes. That must be it.

North raised his tools, tiny and delicate in his thick hands, and leaned closer to his latest project. Just one final tap and—

The door burst open, smashing into the wall.

North shouted, jumping to his feet as the sharp tools came biting into the horse's neck and cleanly decapitating it.

"Ahhh!" North cried out, pointing to the obtrusive Yeti, who had the decency to look horrified. Once it uncovered its mouth, it gestured and spoke rapidly. Something, whatever had happened, had spooked it badly. Had spooked them all badly. Because North noticed the rapidly approached bundle of Yetis barging into his workshop.

"What is the meaning of this? Why has got you all into such a harried man…ner?" North faded off, staring at what lay still and limp in the arms of the Yeti named Phil.

"Jack?" North breathed incredulously, and finally understood what his belly was trying to tell him.

It was Jack alright, broken and more ashen than normal. He was without his staff, which was worrying, but North soon noticed another Yeti holding it carefully beside Phil. The boy was unconscious, but alive and bleeding from a gash above his eyebrow to prove it. One skinny hand dangled, scratched and bloodied and there was snow covering him as if he'd landed in a snow bank and been left to lie there for a while. According to the story the Yetis were trying to tell all at once, that's exactly what Jack Frost had done. But they had only found the young guardian, no tracks or anything around him to suggest he'd gotten into a scuffle. Had he fallen from the sky, then? How had he survived? How had he avoided smashing amongst the rocks surrounding the castle?

His answer came in the form of the whistling Wind, its tones sharp and agitated as it fluttered above them anxiously. He could not 'speak' or read it as well as the frost spirit, but North had a good idea of what kept Jack from breaking his neck from the fall. Baby Tooth was flying beside Phil, chirping gently in Jack's direction as if to rouse him from his current state. The very sight kicked North's brain into gear.

Something had happened to the boy, but they would deal with that later.

"Get him to his room, now!" North barked the command again when no one moved fast enough. "Ivan, get your bag." He commanded. The resident yeti that was keen on medicine and healing rumbled a reply and hurried off.

The Yeti's knew not to take North's commanding tone as anything other than professionalism and being 'The Boss.' Besides, he was worried for Jack and really, they all were. Without hesitation Phil pounded through the door to Jack's room.

The Yeti delivered the worryingly still body to the bed, careful to support his head until it could rest on the pillow. Jack's head lolled eerily, and lay still. Phil backed out of North's space as the man came into the room. They were still waiting for Ivan, and North looked over the spirit himself while they stood there.

Several elves had come running, and there at least twenty of them crowding around the bed, each as anxious as the other over the state of the frost sprite. Quite oblivious to it all, Jack laid still, eyes closed and breathing evenly. Strange, he appeared to be sleeping.

North shooed some elves off one side of the bed, a few of them wiggling under the frame for cover as Ivan and his large medical bag tromped into the room.

"He will live, yes?" North asked, half knowing he was right in his assumption. A guardian was not easy to kill, not so long as children believed in them. And with Jamie alone, Jack showed remarkable ability to channel that energy into something powerful beyond belief.

Ivan the Doctor Yeti nodded, giving a curt, gruff answer as he performed a basic check up over Jack Frost. Several bodies in the room exhaled in relief. A few in the back had to get back to work, but more than half stayed. All were eager to find out what happened to the boy, and what they could do make him better or, better yet, avenge him.

Had Jack Frost been attacked? North finally had the common sense to ask Toothiana's assistant about it—the one that had bonded to Jack after he'd saved her life.

She shook her iridescent head, tucked beak down shyly as she fluttered over to Jack's side. She seemed jumpy, looking around at every noise and her wings flicking worriedly. North wondered why briefly, but chalked it up to the whole ordeal with Jack. Without Jack as a translator for the Wind or the little Tooth, North was left with having to just sit around and wait for the boy to wake up.

Nothing could have been more frustrating.

It was then Ivan pulled away, speaking a jumble of sounds and noises that loosely translated to a noise of astonishment.

Before their very eyes, the sprite's bruises were starting to fade and sink back into his flesh, as if drawn in by some inner force. While not new to the healing process of Guardians, which was so reactive in general, they were not used to it happening so quickly. But the guardian's magical and physical health was now linked with the force of the children who loved them.

North was strongly hit with the memory of the first time Jack fought back against Pitch—and that was without the strength of the children who believed in him so dearly. The boy had the potential become something far stronger than all of them, and North wondered why the thought filled him with equal amounts joy and trepidation. Slight thought it was, North made sure all the windows were open, the cold air drifting in. The Yeti's didn't mind it, and no one much cared about the opinion of the elves, so the temperature of the room dropped steadily.

Against Jack's neck, Baby Tooth burrowed into his hair and pulled his hood around her small frame as she leaned against the frost sprite. She waited, quietly and patiently, for him to awake. North was impressed by her loyalty, and gave her a warm smile.

"He will be alright, Little Tooth. I can feel it." He said softly, "In my belly."

Giving a hesitant smile of her own, Baby Tooth nodded gently.

It was nearly sunset by the time North stood from the chair at Jack's beside. Still, the boy hadn't awoken. Hadn't even stirred. He hardly looked to be alive, but North hoped that was simply because they boy's complexion lead nothing to the imagination of being alive. Jack was, for all accounts and purposes, dead as a door nail. The rest of the Guardians were not used to this, not even Sandman.

North decided, and he voiced the opinion to Baby Tooth, that if Jack did not recover by tomorrow, he would call the Guardians.

"Even if we cannot do anything, there is no harm in being together. We must be there for Jack." North kept his voice low, and he heard grateful chirps from Baby Tooth.

North left the room. With him went the last candle, sending the room into pastel twilight as the orange sun tried in vain to alight the world. It looked the sun was trying to set the room was on fire. Baby Tooth tried not to think about that.

"...Frost?" That was Pitch.

He edged out from under a pillow. He had been hiding for hours now, and while he was a little annoyed, he couldn't very well yell at an unconscious Jack. That wouldn't be any fun. With a furrowed brow and confused expression, the Nightmare King drifted on his smoke trail toward Frost's shoulder. He lay there, rather lifeless and unresponsive, one hand draped over his stomach. The hand rose and fell with Jack's breathing, which was one of the few signs Pitch picked up on to ascertain what state the boy was in. He was only a foot away when the small worker for the Tooth Fairy darted in from of him. Her feathers were aloof and spread, spiting a string of threats from her demure beak as her glowing eyes narrowed in warning. She bobbed back and forth in front of him, all worked up.

"Easy, easy!" Pitch managed to keep the nasty laugh from his voice. This was too rich. Would she react this way if he were his normal height and full power?

For some reason, he thought the answer to be yes. This confused him, so he stopped thinking about it. Whatever magnetism Jack possessed, it was clearly capable of affecting everyone.

"I do not wish to harm him. If I did, you'd just bring North and every Yeti within a mile into this room—and then where would I be?" Pitch pointed out smoothly, making his case.

The little fairy twitched in the air, her wings flicking as she eyed him suspiciously. Somewhere, the Wind hit the shutter so it clicked lightly once or twice, almost as if in ponderous agreement with Pitch.

"I will not harm a single strand on his head. If I do, please," He swept into a low, mocking bow. The trails of his black sand curled and flicked. "Feel free to 'tattle' on me."

Baby Tooth clucked her beak reproachfully, every indignant inch of her saying 'I intend to.' before she darted back up into the cavity between Jack's neck and the pillow. She nestled against the nape of his neck, giving soft, worried chirrups in his ear as she nuzzled close.

Deciding this meant he was given the 'ok' Pitch closed the space between him and Frost and eyed the spirit quietly. Well, what on earth happened here?

"Did something fight him?" Pitch paused, remembering the fairy's way of speaking. Honestly, how did the boy understand it? "One for no, two for yes."

A single chirp.

"Hm, then what…? Strange. He looks as if he just…fell asleep." Pitch admitted, trying to keep his tone bored and disinterested. The Nightmare king paused as he noticed he was now several inches taller, his black tail coiling tightly to provide extra support so that he could walk on the smog-trail. He looked up at the inch of shimmering feathers he could see.

"You are afraid for him." Came the soft, low noise of realization. It wasn't a question.

Two soft, small chirps. She knew better than to lie, especially to this monster.

Pitch turned back to stare at the boy's sleeping face.

"And when he wakes up, you will lose that fear. I suppose I should appreciate the height while it lasts." He growled dryly, venturing up to stand on Jack's forearm. Closer now to the frost spirit's face, Pitch found himself overcome with a hungry urge to put his fingers through that ice brittle hair. To brush it out of Jack's eyes so that he could see the ice blue orbs better upon his awakening. Yes, that would be…enjoyable, Pitch surmised dimly. Moments later, he was broken out of his thoughts by a curious Baby Tooth. Her soft chirp startled him from his thoughts, and he found himself leaning over Jack Frost. In this tiny form, his fingertips were just touching the spirit's cool cheek. It was not flushed, but it was smoother than it had any right to be, and those freckles were downright endearing.

"Ah…" Pitch froze.

Noticing the traitorous thoughts an instant later, Pitch mentally stomped on them and sent them flying out the damn window. Then he noticed his posture and jerked back as if Jack's skin burned him, even giving a little hiss like a ruffled tom cat.

"Preposterous!" Pitch booed at the bedspread, earning a confused look from Baby Tooth.

He stormed off the sleeping form of Jack Frost, tail lashing as it propelled him back onto the deep red comforter covered in prancing, stylized reindeer. Pitch kept his arms folded, glaring sternly out the window into the black night. Night had fallen—already? No matter.

It was then Pitch heard a moan.

Pitch paused in his annoyance, twisting to look over his shoulder at the now moving guardian. His eyebrows knit, his lips were taught and his pale purple fingers twitched restlessly. From behind his eyelids, Pitch saw movement and knew that REM sleep had begun. Something in his chest felt rather heavy when he realized what his and Jack's actions when one came after the other.

Pitch Black had just touched the young guardian during sleep.

Pitch Black had started a nightmare.

Damn Pitch, you dun fucked up. You think Jack's nightmares are gonna be scary, wait till you see what Baby Tooth does when she gets her little hands on the equally miniature nightmare king. Lawl, but hey I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, yeah? Reviews are NEVER required but always appreciated!