Author's note: Yeah... I have no idea what I was on when I wrote this, but it is cracky and silly as all get out. I apologize in advance. My brain is a strange, strange place.

This is sort of linked to my other fic, but mostly just in a 'this supposedly takes place in a universe where Pitch has been redeemed' way.

Pitch lay on the broken bedframe above his lair, breathing with difficulty. He was partially translucent now, and even more emaciated than he normally was. Jack crouched beside him, holding one of the boogeyman's hands. "I'm too nice now, Jack. No one's afraid of me anymore. I'm supposed to be fear itself. Now I'm going to disappear, because no one is scared."

"But I'm scared, Pitch. I'm scared of losing you." Jack said tearfully, before making a face and scrambling for a stack of paper resting beside him. "Is that seriously in the script? Good heavens, who writes this dreck?"

"I'm feeling rather ill myself. And not due to the whole 'dying' thing, either. This pap is utterly vile." Pitch cast a scathing glare in the author's direction. "Just what is wrong with you?"

"What? Wait, hey, you guys aren't supposed to do this!" The author stammered, startled. "Just stick to what I wrote!"

"Oh, no. You won't be putting me through this. I have my dignity."

"But I just wanted to make something cute and sad…"

"Then write some little thing about how Jack's sister was sad when he fell in that lake," Pitch drawled, getting off the bed.

"Hey!" Jack said, looking offended.

"I'm a jerk, remember? Get over it." Pitch advanced on the author. "And you. Leave me out of this. It's bad enough that you have me befriending him in your other story. But if you're going to make some kind of tearful and romantic death scene between the two of us, I swear that you will dream nothing but nightmares for the rest of your pathetic little existence."

"You can't do that!"

"Do you care to test me, woman? Now, I'm leaving. And if you know what's good for you, next time I'm brought back, it will be for something properly nightmarish." With that, the boogeyman vanished.

For a moment, the author and Jack stared at each other. "Uh, yeah, I'm going to go too," he said. "Better luck next time." Wind lifted Jack off of his feet and into the sky.

"…Well, nuts. What am I supposed to write about now?"