Hi everyone! I know i sould be writing TTSP, but I had this one in russian and intended to translate it ages ago, so, here it is.
I don't own and don't get any profit, sadly.
After the long hours (days?) of senseless and exhausting struggle with his own nightmares, finally Pitch was able to get rid of the last one, and sat down, uncaring of the funny way his cloak rode up his legs. The nightmares were one of his best creations, difficult to fight even for someone like him. Which is why the King of Nightmares felt like an overused doormat. However, the work was done, for now, and he could finally rest.
He closed his eyes, but not five minutes later there were footsteps coming from somewhere to the left, light, like his guest was not really walking but almost gliding above the ground, touching it with only the tips of his toes. Pitch heard them, recognizing without any doubt the cool breeze that appeared in his lair. His took a deep breath of it, smiling just a little.
Shaking his head, Pitch lifted his gaze to look at Jack. The boy looked no less tired. The happenings of the last few days took their toll on both of them.
Jack, too, was smiling weakly. Not because he was not happy to see Pitch, as can be theorized by those who do not yet know of their shared history, but because he had no energy left for any more emotion, even though the relief he felt was too profound to conceal entirely.
Without any signs of mistrust, he came closer to Pitch's side, and then sat down stretching his legs and leaning his back against that of his recent opponent. He shared with Pitch the coolness of his presence, taking what little warmth the King of Nightmares could spare. The two of them were not too spoiled by fortune, so this kind of comfort had come to mean much.
They spent some minutes in silence, thinking of the same things, albeit each from a different perspective. Calmed down by the presence of the other, they could now discuss the things that needed discussing, and process the rest.
Jack was the one who spoke first, his voice weak from exhaustion or the fresh, not yet muted by passage of time, experiences.
- For a minute there, I thought you'd overdone it with Sandy. Like, killed him, for real. The sight of it was… If I hadn't seen you sign… - he fell silent for a moment, remembering the great black mass rushing at him and the small, but distinctive black snowflake in the middle, the silhouette of it so familiar that it woke him up from his temporary lapse into madness and grief. – If not for the sign, I would've lost all sense of reality. I'm serious, don't laugh! – He snapped at Pitch, who snorted in a fist at this proclamation. – You don't really think I'm that bad, do you? – Pitch only rolled his eyes. – Ok, maybe you do. But that was… just a little too…
- What, too realistic? – Pitch finished for him, turning a bit to talk easier, but still not looking at Jack. He could have eased the tension between them with a joke, something about how bad exactly he knew Jack was, which he had proven again, but refrained. Too tired. Well, he will surely have plenty other opportunities to return to that topic in the future. – You know it had to be. Your precious Guardians wouldn't have believed in it, otherwise. Then, where would you be now?
Jack snorted, but didn't reply. He knew exactly where. The same place as the last three hundred years – in oblivion and loneliness. In the place which is only filled with cold and dark.
Silence. Then, there was the rustle of fabric and the barely audible cracking of ice.
- If you are going to fall asleep on me, again, have the decency to bring be a blanket at least. You're a walking freezer.
A heavy sigh expressing the weight of the whole world, rustle, footsteps moving away, then back, some more fussing and cracking was heard.
They lay side by side, Pitch cocooned in the blanket, trying to relax at least some of his aching and strained muscles. Not going to be easy feat to get up tomorrow, he knew.
Jack cuddled close to him, hugging his thin form through the blanket, put his head down on Pitch's shoulder. Pitch didn't even blink at that. The position in which they fell asleep never mattered – they'd wake up like this anyway. After the long years of loneliness, in Jack lived a strong longing for simple human contact, which explains why, falling asleep, he'd cuddle up to the first thing he could reach. Pitch was quite used to that role, even though he'd still express his disgust occasionally. But now was not the time for insults nor lectures. They had achieved the impossible, after all. The rest of the world could wait.
- Pitch?
- Mmm?
- I just… I wanted to say…
- Don't thank me. Sleep. We'll talk tomorrow.
- … If you didn't help me…
- What were you saying about not being that bad? Sleep already, Snowdrop.
- Alright, I'm sleeping. Just, Pitch…
- Well, what is it?
- Sweet dreams.
- … You too, Jack.
Pitch smiled as he fell asleep. His last thoughts were that it was very ironic to receive such a wish when you were a being whose job consisted mainly of souring the dreams of other people. How nice all the same.
Maybe he will give the kids a break from nightmares, just for a few weeks, in celebration of their victory, before everything has to return to status quo.
The Man in Moon's bound to approve.
It's just a drabble right now, but if there is any interest in a continuation, I might reconsider.
Hope you like it! Review? O.O