sakon76

Scenes From the Life and Death of Jackson Overland Frost
Part 9: Truths and Truths
by K. Stonham
first released 20th December, 2012

June, 2062

Jack was pinned. Literally, and that made him almost want to giggle, though he knew that was the heatstroke getting to him. And his hands hurt so damn much with Pitch's two black rods rammed through them, through the slate and shale, anchoring Jack into something deep and dark in the Earth.

Crucified, a part of him thought, and wondered if Pitch was familiar with Christian symbology. Because Jack was, and was taking it as a sign of hope. Jesus had risen again after his crucifixion....

Of course, if Jack's muddled thoughts went their full course, there was death involved first, and he wasn't looking forward to that. He remembered when Sandman had died, and how much Sandy had reluctantly admitted, much later, that being unmade hurt. Down to the core of your being, in a place that mortals couldn't even know....

Jack panted in the midday sun, wondering if the ringing of swords nearby was only his fevered imagination. Though as far as hallucinations went, a rescue party was a good one. He liked that one.

Except now Pitch was back, shadowy gloating bastard. And how utterly unfair was it that while Jack was suffering from the heat, the Fear King wasn't even flinching from the uncompromising sunlight?

When he found out who had taught Pitch the trick of splitting himself into copies, Jack was going to make them pay.

He resolutely ignored the trickle of fear as he felt his cold, his essence, being leached away by the long black rods, feeding something unnatural in the bowels of the Earth. Pitch had threatened a new ice age.

Sandy survived being unmade. Sandy survived being unmade. Sandy survived--

"Oh, but being unmade isn't what you really fear, now is it, Jack?" Pitch's velvet voice murmured in one ear. "No, that's such a childish thing. Enough faith, and you can come back from that."

"Fuck. Off," Jack managed.

Pitch moved to his other side. "We all know what your fears are, don't we, Jackie? Being alone again, I suppose." He stood, rocked back on his heels, one long gray finger on his chin as he watched the battle beyond.

Jack craned his neck to look at Pitch, then at the fighters. North and Tooth, both with golden swords flashing, against a dozen Pitch copies.

Where were Bunny and Sandy?

"Oh, don't worry about them, Jack." Pitch smiled, and it was not a pleasant thing. "They're merely taking... a little nap." He dropped to his knees again as a little more of Jack slipped away into the ground. "You see, they're all rather irrelevant to my plans. I'm just keeping them busy until I get what I want." His smile now was downright malevolent, and it chilled Jack down to places that had never felt cold. "You see, I was telling you the truth that time. Nothing goes better than cold and dark. And if I can't have Jack Frost...." A finger lifted Jack's chin. "Why, then, I'll just have to have his powers."

Jack gritted his teeth, reached for his power. It snapped and crackled around him, biting Pitch's fingers, freezing the air and the ground--

--and was ripped away into the Earth, leaving Jack gasping and hollow.

"Such a little fighter," Pitch crooned, cradling his injured hand. "Too bad for you, Jackie--"

And he stopped, as a golden scimitar rested at his throat. "Release Jack," North said in that too-calm voice that meant Pitch's immediate unmaking if the demand wasn't fulfilled.

Jack had no problem visualizing North's past as a Cossack bandit king.

"Why, certainly," Pitch said, even as Jack arched, feeling another part of himself get torn away, funneled downward.

Tooth's swords crossed Pitch's neck from behind. "No stalling," she hissed, tone absolutely venomous.

Pitch sniffed, seeming put out, then waved a hand. The black rods dissolved into smoke. Jack gasped at the pain that throbbed anew through his palms, fever now pulsing with his heartbeats as the wounds began to seep. It racked through him, like all he was made of was agony. With half a whimper his only voice, he curled into a ball, fighting off the pain.

Tooth glared. "You monster," she hissed, and dropped beside Jack. Her hand touching his arm was almost more than he could bear.

"Go away, Pitch," North grated, "before we make sure you can never put yourself back together."

"Oh so melodramatic," Pitch intoned. "Tell me, North, do you know what the brat really fears?"

Held together by pain like it was barbed wire, Jack couldn't even move to try to stop the man's words.

"What he really fears," Pitch said, "is you knowing. Did you know he drowned, North? Ice skating in winter, such a pity. His little sister watching. Both wearing skates you gave them."

North's sword fell.

With a triumphant grin and echoing laugh, the Fear King dissolved into smoke and shadow, disappearing on the wind.

Tooth stared at North, then looked back at Jack. Her mouth was open in horror.

It was at that point that Bunny arrived, opening a tunnel by them. And, mercifully, his careful handling was just rough enough that Jack passed out before any questions could be asked.

* * *

Jack woke an indeterminable amount of time later. His eyes fluttered open, and he recognized the room North kept for him at the Pole. It was pleasantly cool, carved of packed snow, with large ice-glass windows that opened to the Artic. The furniture was wooden, as was the floor, for the rare occasion Jack had a visitor. There were blue-green rugs, posters and pennants pinned to the walls, and the comfiest bed Jack had ever slept in. There was also his staff, propped reassuringly in the corner.

Oh good. Wonder where they found it? Pitch had been very careful to not keep it with him, once he'd trapped Jack.

A realization of his freedom from pain was Jack's second thought, though he amended that to a general soreness as he sat up. And his hands... well, considering they were swathed in white bandages, he wasn't sure he really wanted to know how bad they were.

Wincing, he stood, and went to collect his staff.

The Workshop was its usual scene of controlled chaos. Jack leaned on his staff, watching for a few minutes, taking it in. It was familiar, comforting. Eventually, though, he sighed. Part of him wanted to go outside, into the cold and snow, to replenish what Pitch had stolen from him...

...but there was something more important he needed to do first.

He found Phil easily. "Where is he?" he asked the yeti quietly. There was no need to specify who "he" was.

"Arglbargl," Phil replied, which was pretty much what Jack had thought.

"Thanks," Jack said, and began making his slow, laborious way to North's private quarters.

He knocked first, then, when he got no answer, pushed the door open.

North sat slumped in a chair in front of the fire. His eyes were bleary, and as Jack watched, he downed a shot of a clear liquid, then poured himself another. About half the liquid didn't make it into the tumbler.

Sighing, Jack shut the door behind himself and walked forward. He swiped the bottle from North's hand, noting how many others were scattered, empty, on the floor. Spotting a bottle of Tooth's nectar wine, he winced. "I didn't want you to know," he said softly.

"Is no good," North said, staring at the fire. "I think I do good thing, giving gifts to children. When instead I cause them to die!" He saluted the flames with his cup, then tossed the drink back. "I am failure, as Guardian."

"It's not your fault," Jack said. "It's what Pitch does. He twists everything, gets inside your head, screws you up. You know that, North."

"Does not mean he does not tell the truth." North stared at the fire for a moment longer, then lifted his head to look at Jack. "Was my fault. I gave you skates."

"It was my fault," Jack countered. "I should have checked the ice better."

"If not for me, you would have grown up, lived full life. Little sister would have been happy."

"You're saying I haven't lived a full life?" Jack gestured with the hand holding the bottle of yeti vodka. "I stand here, in the most wonderful place on Earth, arguing with Santa Claus. I'm a Guardian! What about that isn't a full life, North?"

"No wife," the man said brokenly. "No children. No family."

"I don't need a wife. And I have all the children in the world to play with. Family?" Jack laughed, just a little. "What do you think you are, North? You're my family. All the Guardians are."

"But--"

"But nothing. Look, you gave me skates. I was stupid. But for all that, something good came of it."

"And other children?"

Jack shook his head. "Mistakes happen. Accidents happen. We can't protect children from life, North. We can only give them those things that make it worth living."

North looked at him for a moment longer, then closed his eyes, dropping his head into his hand. "Very much wisdom, for one so young, Jack."

Jack grinned. "Hey, I learned from the best." Now that he was sure it wasn't going to get drank from more, he set the bottle on the table by North's side. "Come on, let's get you to bed to sleep this off."

North had nearly a foot and a half on Jack, and was built like an iceberg. Getting him up out of the chair was an exercise in arguing with gravity and leverage. But eventually they prevailed, and stumbled off like a three-legged race to the bedroom.

Jack saw North deposited on the mattress, wrestled off his boots, put a basin near his head just in case, and draped a red blanket over the man. As he went back to the door, North spoke.

"Jack." Jack stopped and turned, looking back. "Even if it took something terrible happening... I am so glad you are here."

Jack smiled gently. "So am I, North."

Closing the door behind himself, Jack slipped from North's quarters, and went back to the Workshop, to let the yetis know that everything was all right.