A/N: First BlackIce fic! Yay! So I know this idea was in another story, which I will link in the next chapter when I locate it again. I'd started writing this before I found her fic, so... *scratches back of head* I hope that's cool.

Chapters will get longer, usually around 4k each one. This first one is just a taste. Feedback is always a plus in my book. :) I also reply to reviews in the chapters that follow. So look out for those.

WARNING: Will contain sex and swearing.

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There was a party the first night. Every child was safe and sound, pleasantly filled with hope and happiness. Their dreams were again golden and soothed them into a fitful sleep, not tainted by the black sand of Nightmares. The Guardians were merry, and North opened his most special bottles of wine and alcohol for the occasion. Tooth brought all her fairies, and left it to the elves to keep them sober. Needless to say that went very wrong very quickly, and soon they were flitting about singing and near molesting Jacks teeth with their eyes. Bunnymund got a kick out of that, and naturally in retaliation Jack poured red paint over his tail. Both were buzzed enough that it didn't get too violent, but a drinking contest ensued. Sandy was the ref and it soon became quite clear that Jack couldn't hold his liquor nearly as well as he thought. North drank them both under the table while Tooth snored quietly on the couch.

The day following was slow. The Yetis helped clean the mess and the Guardians cleaned themselves up. It was time for Jacks initiation into the Guardians, and though the trumpets killed them all, it was manageable. Normally another party would be planned, but Jack opted to forego the festivities in favor of everyone's brain cells. There were no opposing hands raised.

It was that day things started to happen. None of them took notice really, accidents occurred nearly constantly. Especially to children. Every day some of them pass on, whether it was running into the street after a rogue ball or peeking too far out a balcony window. But now there is a difference, subtle. It is a sad thing but not preventable.

On the third day there are even more deaths. At this point it's on the news. Parents are afraid for their children, a fear born out of tragedy. For adults have already grown into their fear, stemming from their childhoods. It is not the same fear Pitch brings, for he dwells solely on the children. It is now that the Guardians begin to see that in doing away with Pitch they have done a lot more damage than they could have ever thought possible. It is Jack who points this out. North becomes enraged, and Bunnymund refuses to believe he was part of something so awful. As he returns to the Warren it is Tooth who agrees with Jack, and goes so far as to shout down North. Jack sneaks out. There's no time to waste. Children are dying because of them, and he knows they are the only ones who can fix it.

He has to find Pitch.

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It's a cold night. Jack looks out from beneath the bow of an ancient pine tree, his toes curling around the thickness of the branch. He can feel the cold, but welcomes it to his body like metal welcomes heat. The frost spirit wraps it around him like a blanket, and taps the tree with the end of his staff. Patterns of white spiral over the tree, which groans in protest of the action but takes it in stride, not fearing the chill as other trees might. Jack is slightly awed by this, but pushes the thick evergreen branch out of his way, jumping into the wind and carrying himself high into the black sky. There are no clouds, and the stars shine bright in the dark mass, the moon making the snow sparkle.

"Pitch!"

Jack has searched this part of the forest for nearly the entire evening; the last place they had seen the Nightmare King. There is a definite sign he has been here, traces of black sand and hoof prints having broken through the thin crust of ice. The new Guardian is at a loss, and his blue eyes scan the area tiredly, no longer frantic. Any hope of finding the spirit was slim, and even slimmer the hope that he would be willing to assist them in saving the kids. Still, it was worth a shot.

Jack let the wind carry him down to the ground, which he floated above and weaved through the trees, ever searching. Here there was more black sand, in piles now. "Pitch!" he called, "Where are you?" There was no answer, not a sound in return, and so he kept on until he found what he was looking for.

It wasn't Pitch exactly, but it was a small opening half buried in snow. There were fading prints around the entrance, and the snow was turned up instead of set in hardened sheets. Warning bells went off in his head, but he hoisted his staff up higher, stepping into the cave with cautious steps. "Hello?"

A shadow moved behind him.

Jack spun and stabbed at it, frost curling in the shape of Pitch's bust. A hollow chuckle followed, and when he turned to face the black he found golden eclipse eyes staring out at him. The frost spirit shivered, not from fear nor cold, but glared hard at the man across from him. "Pitch," he greeted, grinding his teeth together. The Nightmare King grinned, his teeth white in the dark, "Jack, how nice of you to come visit me." He laughed again, stepping forward into full view. The shadows at the bottom of his cloak hid his feet only just, and he was languid as always, ever agile and smooth moving. His hair was slicked back, and it appeared as though he had never been defeated at all.

Jack pointed the staff at him, bending his knees and tossing a bit of silver hair from his eyes. Now that he was here, he honestly didn't know what to do. He was sure he could take Pitch if he had to… or thought he could, in the spirits weakened state. But Pitch didn't look weary at all, and in fact looked as though he had had many days to rest. It didn't matter anyway, because the taller of the two broke the awkward silence with a question of his own.

"I don't think you came here to mock me, and you can't kill me either. So what do you want?"

He stood perfectly still, not wanting to let the black spirit goad him into anything. "I-" no, he cut himself off before he could finish, "We, that is, want to know what you're doing." Not an entire lie, the guy hadn't been far from their minds despite the parties and celebration. Pitch raised an eyebrow, or would have if he'd had one, and let a grin pull his lip up on one side. "Oh? The Guardians want to know what little old Pitch Black is doing? What a riot." He didn't laugh this time. Jack was beginning to grow uneasy. "Look Pitch," he started, "The kids… they… something's wrong. We want to know what it is." The Nightmare King scowled now, taking a few quick steps forward to loom over the frost spirit, who held him at bay only with his staff, which trembled ever so slightly.

"'We want' or 'I want,' Jack?" He cocked his head slightly, knowing he'd caught Jack in a corner. He enjoyed watching the boy squirm.

"I want, then," Jack snarled, pushing at Pitch with the staff to help keep the distance. Pitch glared then, and disappeared into the shadows momentarily, before speaking from somewhere far ahead. "At least you can admit it. I don't suppose you looked too closely at my lair, did you?" It was a bait, and Jack knew it. But if it was for the kids… he had to take it.

The frost spirit took a leap into the dark, coming into a whole different room altogether. It was Pitch's lair, dull and black and smelling of earth and chill. The Nightmare King sat in a stone throne, leaning back against it. Perhaps it was the light, but Jack noted now the hollowness in his cheeks, like someone malnourished. Not that he cared, or anything. Pitch could rot.

Stone tile was cold beneath his bare feet as Jack headed forward, staff at the ready for any attack that might come. "If you want to know what's happening to your precious little darlings, I suggest that wall," he jutted his chin out, which he rested on pale fingers. Jack followed the gesture to a large mural, not painted on like in the Warren or Tooth Palace, but carved into the grey earth itself. The frost spirit jumped over to it, following the scene with bright blue eyes creased with worry. It wasn't really pictures, not a mural at all, really. They were markings, a language of some kind that he couldn't understand. He turned to say something to Pitch, and flinched when he saw the spirit standing right beside him. Pitch grinned sadistically, pleased that it had worked.

"Humans learn fear through their childhood memories, Jack." Pitch was no longer looking at him, but at the words on the wall. "Just like you're afraid of the dark, and the cold, which," here he grinned maliciously, "is ironic, because here you are." The frost spirit looked up at him with ice in his eyes, opening his mouth to retort. The Nightmare King interrupted him and continued, again tracing the mural with his eyes, "Without learning fear as children they grow up not being afraid of anything. Nothing can go wrong. But those children... are no longer afraid of the man inside the van. They are no longer afraid of staying out long after their parents call them in. They aren't afraid of thin ice." Jack made to hit him with his staff then, but black shadow enveloped him and then Jack was in another part of the lair, Pitch standing only a few feet away.

"When you and your Guardians-"

"I'm a Guardian now!"

Pitch sneered at the interruption but continued, "-defeated me, all fear left their little hearts. They aren't afraid anymore. I have no power over them anymore." He turned to stalk back into the shadows, but Jack's call made him halt.

"But they have to be afraid sometimes! It's the only way to keep them safe!"

Jack suddenly found himself backed against a wall, Pitch leaning over him like a predator ready to strike. Those molten gold eyes glared down at him, filled with so many emotions the boy had trouble reading them all at once. Hurt. Anger. Resentment. Hate. Pain. Envy.

"You don't want to be the one to give them fear, do you?" Jack whispered, looking up at him with softening eyes, no longer furious but... sad. He made to reach up and touch Pitch's face, who snarled and grabbed the boys hand in his to keep it away. "I don't need pity. Especially a Guardians'!" But the cold, gray fingers did not let go of the pale hand. Rather, they tightened momentarily, and Jack curled his fingers around the larger ones that held him captive. Pitch said nothing, merely stared at their entwining hands with a glare. Jack echoed the silence with his own, moving closer ever heartbeat, trying to go unnoticed.

He may not like the Nightmare King, but... a little hug might not kill either of them.

Would it?

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A/N: Yay! Reviews help, but are not necessary. I hope you enjoyed this first taste!