ASTUTE
"North, you need to put a childproof lock on that door."
"We aren't children!"
"What if Jack gets in there?"
"He'd be fine!"
It was a mistake and North knew it was his fault.
Pitch didn't have the energy anymore. He didn't have the energy to make nightmares and scythes and knives and—and he doesn't need the energy.
"Jack! Jackie, answer me! Jack!"
"Mate!"
How had they even gotten in a locked room together?
"North, I can't break down the door!"
"Well, I enforced it so—"
"North!"
How had they gotten in the one room with the one door at the same time?
"C'mon, door! Open! Break…."
Bunny would stare at the door, now, when it was quiet and never when it was loud and would breathe like Jack that day.
"Oh, my, no… Jack…."
"Bunny, what's wrong?"
He wouldn't at all.
"You don't hear it North?"
Bunny ran at the door with renewed vigor.
He would stare at the stains and cease his breaths.
"No… Bunny, I can't get the door… what do you…."
"Pitch!"
He would walk inside and try to ignore the shattered glass and….
"Bunny?"
The door was soundproof.
He would sit and watch as his hands bled.
"Pitch! Open this door! Stop, Pitch, stop it!"
These were pleads.
…and screams.
"Bunny? What's—"
"Pitch!" his voice cracked and he fell to the floor, banging his head slightly. "Pitch, stop! No, please… please…."
He was crying as they continued.
Pitch continued. He didn't know what'd gotten in to him.
Pitch kept raising it.
His arm.
The snow was red for fifteen minutes that day.
North's sword.
He brought it down again.
Another scream.
The clouds had been black.
Another plead from the door.
Another question.
Another scream.
The children were haunted.
Raise.
Lower.
Scream.
The wind screeched as her son died and died and died and died and died and died and—
"Bunny, Bunny!"
"He won't stop they won't stop please… please… it's too loud, North, it's too loud… STOP IT. STOP IT STOP IT—"
"Aster, what is it? What do you hear, why are you!"
"He won't stop! He won't stop!"
Tooth watched as Baby Tooth cried.
"North? What's happening? The door—"
"Pitch! He dragged Jack in there and now Bunny is like this!"
Toothania paused.
Her nails scratched the door as she shouted.
She listened to her little sniffles as she tried to rid the image from her mind.
"Kozmotis Pitchiner, please! We'll do anything just please… please stop this... let Jack go!"
Silence reigned supreme.
"I'm afraid there is no Jack to let go, Toothania."
She stilled and listened to Bunny.
Her hands hurt.
"Stop screaming stop screaming stop screaming stop…."
"Pitch, no…! What have you done to him, why is—"
"Is the poor rabbit the only one with such astute hearing? Such a shame."
"Kozmotis!"
Her hands bled images.
"I'm so not terribly sorry. Sorry."
"Pitch!" North boomed. "What did you do?"
Quiet.
"Do you really want to find out?"
She shook her head in denial.
"Pitch, please…."
"You're poison, I guess." An immortal sniffle.
"I suppose I'm done here, then. I'll let you clean up."
Tooth paled. "No."
"Yes," she mumbled. "Why."
"Yes, Ms. Fairy."
"Tooth?"
"Pitch!"
"Have fun with the reunion, Guardians. Hate to say I won't be there to witness it."
"Why," she whispered. "Yes."
Aster was crying. Sandy could feel it.
He rushed as fast as he could.
He flew in agony as he heard his screams.
As he heard Jack's cries.
As he heard them stop.
The sky was beautiful, atop his cloud.
He rushed through the window and witnessed.
He saw North cradling Tooth.
He saw Bunny crawling and crouching.
He saw shattered glass and crimson swords.
He saw bloodstained floors.
He could see the stars and planets.
Bunny was heaving.
"Jack, Jack… Jack… c'mon, mate, wake up… wake up, Jack…."
Bunny shook his body and ignored the way blood no longer flowed.
Tooth ignored the way her feet nearly slipped on it.
North ignored the way his boots squelched.
He could see milky ways and galaxies.
Sandy looked at Jack and saw his long fingers.
His pale fingers.
His childhood fingers.
He saw how they dangled on the ground.
How they dripped blood.
Sandy never cries.
What kind of man kills a child?
In cold blood?
In warm blood?
What kind of man murders a hero?
In cold blood?
Sandy can't cry.
What kind of man was he, this Pitch?
What kind of man was he to kill?
Did he hold cold blood?
Was he a man of his words?
They were friends once.
Sandy can't cry out.
The man claimed they were two halves of the same coin.
Light.
Dark.
Night.
And Night.
Sandy can't cry for.
He said they had to be friends.
He said they were so alike they were different.
And Sandy believed him.
Believed him.
Pitch.
Sandy can't cry with.
And then.
And then.
And then.
And then and then and then and then—
And then there was static between them.
Sandy refuses to admit to.
A war.
Over a child.
Over many children.
And then—
A child won him over.
Had won Pitch Black over.
Sandy refuses to admit he was right.
Had won pitch black over.
White had captured black.
White had secured black.
White had angered black.
White had refused black.
Blue has been created by gold.
Sandy refused to admit that he, himself, was correct.
Gold murdered Blue.
While White was a collapsed chain.
And Black was screaming for Gold to stop.
And Black was making Grey cry.
And Yellow was rushing to.
Jamie would wake up from nightmares of—
Snowballs.
Snowmen.
Snow people.
Snow villages.
Snow friends.
Snow enemies.
Snow—Jack Frost.
… of his childhood dying.
Blue skies.
Blue banners.
Blue robes.
Blue water.
Blue lakes.
Blue—Jack Frost.
Jamie heard the most bloodcurdling scream.
Irises wider than the sun.
Blue.
Gold.
Against.
And for.
To.
And fro.
Raised from his daughter.
Knives.
And swords.
And blood.
And homes.
Sticks and stones.
Really do break his bones.
Blaire Croft Éclair.
He couldn't fly anymore.
He couldn't see anymore.
He couldn't touch anymore.
He couldn't taste anymore—more—
More—more—more—more—more—more—more—more—more—
He could taste blood.
She screamed and pled.
The children were haunted.
Haunted.
Haunted.
Scarred.
Scared.
Blamed.
As their nightmares came true.
They were quiet.
And fearful.
And terrified.
Because the snow was red.
And the clouds were black.
And the wind screamed as her son died—
And they dared to look outside.
Died—
Died—
Died—
Died—
Died—
And Pitch Black.
And the skies were grey and bled snowy tears.
And Kozmotis Pitchiner.
And the clouds were black.
Raised his hand once more.
And the wind screamed as her son died… and died and died and died and died and—
And swallowed his guilt.
And it rained oily tears.
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His guilt sparkled in his glass.
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And he spoke
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"You were right, Jack. Manny doesn't care for us one bit."