AN: So! Here's chapter two!


Chapter Two

Pitch leaned back in the leather seat, hoping to get a few minutes of relaxation. It had been a very long day. He sighed as he turned to look out the window, watching the streetlights and darkening alleys flash by.

Pitch started suddenly as a flash of white hair and blue caught his eye in one of the passing alleyways.

"Stop the car!" Pitch called abruptly, causing the driver to slam on the brakes.

The driver turned towards him, looking alarmed. " ? Is something the matter?" He inquired.

Boris had turned to look at him through the open privacy window as well, his hand positioned at his hip, obviously believing his boss to have sensed some danger he'd missed.

Pitch just frowned, looking out the car window.

"Go back a bit," he ordered.

Boris land the driver glanced at each other quizzically, before the driver just shrugged before putting the vehicle in reverse, slowly backing up.

Pitch watched as they eased past the alleyways they had just gone by only a minute ago, before he once again caught sight of the familiar white head of hair and blue hoodie.

"Stop," Pitch said as he sat up straight, surveying the scene in front of him.

It was hard to tell what exactly was happening in the little daylight remaining, but it looked as if two people had ganged up on the boy, one of them clutching him from behind.

Pitch reached for the door, frowning. But he stopped as his hand came to rest on the door handle.

What was he doing? Whatever was going on now was none of his business. He shouldn't bother himself with getting involved in any of this. It would probably be a smarter choice to just call the police anyway. Not to mention the fact that he hardly owed anything to the little thief…

Yet here he was about to seek the boy out.

The strange boy with the white hair. The boy who walked around barefoot in the freezing snow , and gave him back his pocket watch as soon as Pitch confronted him, instead of giving chase.

He was curious, Pitch realized, holding back an annoyed groan. He was curious about the damn brat. Meaning he wasn't going to stop dwelling on the pointless encounter until he found some sort of satisfactory answer to all his questions.

Besides, the boy seemed to be in trouble, and if he walked away now…

Sad green eyes, refusing to meet his own, flashed through his mind's eye.

Seraphina would be so disappointed in him.

Damn…, Pitch sighed to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sir?" Boris asked, obviously on edge.

Pitch took a deep breath before turning to his body guard.

"Could you please accompany me on this quick escapade, Boris? I have a feeling I'm going to be needing your assistance," Pitch said gravely, throwing the car door open and steeping out.

Boris followed his lead as he shut the car door, and slunk towards the mouth of the alley. He wanted to gauge what he'd be jumping into before he did anything rash.

Boris glanced at him, obviously still at a loss as his boss hid in the shadows of the surrounding buildings, watching from behind the brick wall.

Pitch was just about to signal him to stay quiet and wait, when a voice suddenly caught his attention.

"What do you mean, you lost it?" A voice snarled.

Pitch turned to look down the alley, observing as the scene unfolded.

Two men stood with the boy. The burlier of the two, who had tattoos tracking up his thick, exposed arms, had the kid's arms pinned behind his back; while a smaller, lither man who was far more practically dressed, towered over the boy, snarling in his face.

The boy just rolled his eyes, seemingly unfazed.

"I mean," the boy replied slowly, as if talking to a child, "that I had it, and now, I don't. Ergo: I lost it."

The burly man growled in aggravation, twisting the boy's arm further, causing him to flinch violently.

"Don't get smart with me, you little shit," the man sneered. "I meant, how'd you lose it."

The boy tried to jerk himself free once more, but the man didn't budge. Finally, he just sighed in agitation.

"Look, I managed to swipe this really nice pocket watch off some new guy in town. Real fancy, made of real silver, had gold cresting and everything. But somehow the guy I lifted it off of caught me."

The two men continued to glare down at him.

"He was going to call the cops!" The kid explained. "What did you want me to do?"

"I wanted you to get me the goods, Frost," the lithe man spat, poking him in the chest.

Frost? Pitch wondered to himself.

He supposed that must be what the boy went by…

"And I did," Frost replied, emphatically. "I just ran into a speed bump."

The man holding the boy spoke up this time. "This ain't the first time these past few weeks that you haven't been able to deliver," he growled.

The boy blew his white bangs away from his face, clearly irritated. "Hey, I'm trying alright? But people around this part of town are getting suspicious of me, and it's not like I blend into a crowd. They're getting smarter around me. What do you want me to do?"

"Need I remind you that we have a deal, Frost," the smaller man demanded. "And if you're not holding up you're end of the bargain-"

Frost grimaced. "Don't worry, I'll make up the difference. It's just been a slow couple of weeks. I'll get you the rest of the money next month, start going out into the city more or something."

"You know," the man said, stroking his goatee in mock consideration as he stared the kid down, "I'm starting to think you ain't worth the pay off, Frost," the man smirked. "Actually, I think I could probably get a better haul just by passin' you off."

"Yeah," the burly man cut in, a fist grabbing the boy's snowy hair and wrenching it back, forcing him to meet his gaze. "See, word on the street is Rodney's lookin' for some fresh meat. Willing to pay big for whoever can get him some. And we ain't the only ones who seem to think you'd make a perfect little bitch for his clients.

Pitch balked in horror as realization dawned on him. They couldn't possibly be talking about what it sounded like, could they?

The boy's eyes widened in alarm as he began struggling to free himself again.

"Yeah," the lithe man continued, "and the deal was, we don't sell ya off to Rod, if you brought in more profit than he can give us."

The bigger man smirked down at the young boy. "So really, we're just holding up the other end of the deal."

Frost's panicked gaze suddenly turned cold as he glanced up at the burly man, before snapping his elbow back, hard, and kicking backwards, trying to pull himself from his grip.

The burly man stumbled as the boy quickly freed himself, darting forwards. But he wasn't quick enough to escape the fast reflexes of the smaller man.

The man nabbed the back of the boy's hoodie, wrenching him backwards, as the burly man straightened up and grabbed for him, twisting his hand into the child's hair.

Pitch watched, frozen and horrified as the burly man held the boy in place, while the smaller rammed his fist into Frost's stomach.

The kid doubled over with a pained groan, as the man raised his fist once more, about to strike.

Pitch didn't even think before moving.

He wasn't entirely sure how he got there, but he was now standing in the mouth of the alley, looking on the scene as his voice echoed through the brick buildings.

"Enough!"

The three struggling figures immediately froze in place, looking back at him like a deer in the headlights.

A moment of tense silence passed that seemed to last eons as Pitch took note of everything; of Boris with his back still against the wall, hand on the gun at his hip; of Frost, as the boy's eyes gradually widened in bewildered recognition; and of the two thugs, as they slowly straightened their posture, snarls curling their lips as they realized he was merely an unassuming intruder.

Finally, as the moment passed, and before anyone else could speak up, Pitch's eerily calm voice drifted through the silent alley.

"Let the boy go."

The thugs finally snapped out of their stupor and snarled at him. The smaller of the two turned on him, his hand reaching in his pocket.

"Move along, Slick," he sneered. "This ain't any of your business."

An unctuous grin crossed the man's face as he flicked a switch blade out of his pocket, its silver shaft glinting in the dim moonlight.

The bigger of the men snickered, while Frost continued to stare at him, slightly panicked and extremely nonplussed.

But Pitch just gazed at the man with cold disdain.

"Oh, an incredibly small knife wielded by a buffoon with limited mental capacity," he intoned drily, "I'm terrified."

And with that, he made a small motion, signaling Boris to step in.

The man took a menacing step forward, "Why you little-"

The sound of the safety clicking off Boris's gun as he slid into position next to his boss silenced the man.

Boris stared down the two men, his dark shades glinting in the setting sun, and his gun unwavering as he aimed it at the man holding the knife.

The thugs once again froze, eyes widening in panic. The smaller man steeped back in alarm.

"Now," Pitch cut in, an oily smirk donning his features, "let's try this again. Let the boy, go."

The two men glanced at each other, fear in their eyes, as the boy looked on in disbelief.

Finally, the men backed up, as the larger threw the boy onto the snow covered concrete.

"Fine," the smaller man said, spitting in his direction. "You want the brat so bad, take im'."

The two retreated quickly, careful to never turn their backs to Boris. But not before the larger turned to Frost one last time, saying, "It ain't that big a city, Frost. Don't think we won't find you."

And with that, they were gone, scrambling around the back alley with their tails between their legs.

Pitch sighed as the men turned out of sight, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Thank you, Boris. It's fine now," he said, turning to the body guard.

The man just nodded before clicking the safety back on the gun, setting it back in his holster.

Pitch glanced back at the boy, who was currently picking himself up off the ground still looked rather lost, with a frown. He had a feeling that this wasn't going to be easy…

With a determined stride, Pitch approached the boy, offering his hand in helping the boy to his feet.

Frost watched him warily for a moment before his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He stood up, knocking away the man's proffered hand.

"What are you doing here?" The boy demanded as he brushed himself off.

Pitch regarded him wryly. "Helping you?"

"Why?" He asked cagily. "I gave you back your watch. I didn't take anything else."

Pitch raised a brow in confusion. "It merely looked like you needed help."

Frost pinned him with an icy gaze before brushing past him and Boris.

"Well, I didn't."

Pitch followed after him, glaring at the boy, feeling slightly irked.

"You know, most people usually thank others for helping them. I think we both know you'd be in a less desirable situation right now if I hadn't stepped in."

The boy glanced back at him over his shoulder, frowning as he rounded the corner of the alley onto the sidewalk. "I had it handled."

Pitch scoffed. "Oh yes," he deadpanned, "it looked like you had everything under control."

The boy just shot him a quick glare before continuing down the sidewalk.

Pitch realized, at the last moment, that they were about to pass the limo.

"Wait," he said, quickening his strides and stopping the boy with a hand on his shoulder. "Where are you going? I can give you a ride," he nodded to the limo parked on the curb.

The boy's eyebrows shot up in incredulity as his gaze darted between Pitch and the limo. Finally, after a pregnant pause, he snorted, "You're kidding right?"

"Pardon?"

"You realize this is pretty much exactly the sort of stranger danger situation kids are taught to avoid right? Only difference is the limo, instead of a white van." The boy smirked. "Props for originality though. Wasn't expecting that."

Pitch gazed at the boy, face coldly impassive, and voice monotone as he droned, "Judging from your previous situation, I hardly believe you've usually taken heed of that advice in the past."

The boy's expression instantly shifted from the lightly mocking smirk, to a viciously guarded glare. "You know what," Frost snapped, "screw you."

And with that the boy turned on heel and stormed off-

Only to again be stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

Frost knocked Pitch's hand away, and turned back to glare at him.

Pitch just sighed as he regarded the boy. "Listen. I mean you no harm. I'm trying to help you!" He gestured towards the alleyway they had just come from. "I'm merely offering you a ride home, away from the cold."

Frost considered him with narrowed eyes. "Why?" He finally asked.

Pitch blinked. "I just told-"

"No," the boy cut in, shaking his head. "Why are you bothering with any of this? I stole from you. And I was planning on giving it to those bastards back there. It's not exactly normal to cast yourself as the 'helpful hero' to the kid who rooked you. Helping me out in the alley was one thing, (You're a decent human being, hooray!), but now your offering me a ride?" He gestured absently, frustrated and at a loss. "So, why? What do you want?"

Pitch just shrugged. "I suppose you merely piqued my curiosity. I wanted to ask something of you, and I figured it'd be more comfortable to do so in the privacy of a warm car."

But instead of placating the boy, he froze up, expression once again turning icy. "If you're wanting to request I somehow 'return the favor,' for you bailing me out back there, then sorry to disappoint but it's not happening."

Pitch observed the boy in confusion. "Return the- What do you-" He broke off as he fully processed the boy's meaning. The child thought he meant he wanted something from him, wanted him to do something for him.

And from what he had just witness back in the alley, Pitch could guess what sort of 'favors' people typically asked of the boy.

Nothing legal, that much was for certain.

"No," Pitch said tiredly, shaking his head.

Frost just tilted his head in question.

"No," Pitch repeated. "I merely wanted to talk with you."

"That's it?" The boy asked, wary.

"Yes," Pitch nodded. "So," he gestured toward the limo again, "would you like a ride?

Frost seemed to consider him for a moment, looking as if he was genuinely giving it a true thought.

Then, he just laughed, startling Pitch as he said, "Nope. I'm fine with just walking. Besides, I like the cold." The boy smirked then turned to walk away once more.

Pitch felt like screaming in frustration. Now the child was purposely being difficult.

Fine. The boy wanted to be stubborn? Two could play at that game.

"Alright then," he said, as he quickly caught up to the boy, gesturing to a confused Boris to stay put. "In that case, I'll just accompany you."

The boy paused, glancing back at him incredulously.

Frost shook his head. "Wow. You just don't give up do you? Dude, take the hint."

Pitch brushed off the boy's comment. "I'm merely walking next to you, nothing against that. If you wish to talk with me that's entirely your choice."

The boy just gave a huff of annoyance, running his fingers through his snowy hair.

"Whatever," he said finally, before continuing on his way, his bare feet barely making a sound against the snow covered concrete.

"Is there a reason why you are so opposed to my presence?" Pitch asked.

"You mean besides your shady appearance, superior demeanor, uptight body guard, and the fact that you won't leave me alone?" The boy snarked. "Nothing. Nothing at all, ."

"Pitch."

The boy turned to glance at him in confusion. "Huh?"

"My name. I realized I have yet to properly introduce myself to you," Pitch stopped in front of the boy, holding out his hand. "I'm Pitch Black. But you may call me Pitch."

The boy didn't shake his hand. Instead he just gaped at the man in shock. "Wait, wait- What?" the boy shook his head, clearly thrown. "Pitch Black? As in the famous Business tycoon, Pitch Black? That Pitch Black?"

Pitch smirked. "The one and only."

Frost leaned back on his heels, letting out a low whistle. "Wow," he said. "I knew you had to be some rich business person, but I didn't expect that." He eyed Pitch for a moment. "But that does make quite a few things make a lot more sense. Like the body guard."

The boy nodded to himself, as if he was finally absorbing the information, before continuing on.

Pitch honestly didn't know whether to be miffed by the boy's dismissal, or impressed. Most people immediately made him the center of their attentions, positive or negative, as soon as they learned who he was. But this boy merely took in the information, reacted, and then picked right back up where he'd left off; pretending like Pitch didn't matter.

It was a… different experience for him. Not bad, but he wasn't sure it was good… It was just… different.

"So," Pitch cleared his throat. "I've introduced myself, what about you?"

"Me?" The boy asked, glancing back at him. He shrugged. "I'm no one, really."

Pitch frowned at the response. "I meant your name."

Frost smirked. "I know what you meant. And I'm telling you it doesn't matter."

"Then it shouldn't matter if you tell me," Pitch replied, not skipping a beat.

The boy let out an unexpected bark of laughter. "You really don't give up, do you?" he shook his head. "Fine, you want to know so badly? It's Jack."

"Jack," Pitch replied, nodding in thought, before asking, "So, why did those men refer to you as Frost?"

The boy, Jack, rolled his eyes. "Oh, that? That's just something people started calling me. You know, Jack Frost? I just sorta took it as a pseudo last name after a while."

"Jack Frost?" Pitch asked, smirking in slight disbelief. "As in the spirit of winter?"

"Yup," Jack nodded. "I've always had a thing for winter.

Pitch realized, rather belatedly, that he hadn't even been paying much attention to their surroundings. All the buildings looked the same; drab, dull, typically brick, and always run down. But now they were turning off onto a narrow nearby street.

Pitch glanced around, frowning before turning his attention back to the boy. "So why don't you just go by your actual last name?"

Jack paused before shrugging it off. "Don't have one."

Pitch turned back to him in alarm. "What?"

"Don't have any parents," Jack said. "So, I don't have a last name."

Pitch pursed his lips. He supposed he wasn't surprised by the news per-say, but, still…

They made another turn down a deserted street, where a tall brick factory, probably abandoned, stood, surrounded by a rusty chain-link fence.

Pitch eyed it for a moment before looking to Jack again.

Finally, he sighed. "We're not going anywhere, are we?"

"Sure we are," The boy replied, grinning cheekily.

"I mean, we're not going anywhere specific."

Jack hummed in though. "Define specific."

Pitch breathed out harshly through his nose. This wasn't getting him anywhere.

He came to a stop abruptly in front of the kid, cutting him off, before gritting out, "Where do you live?"

Jack stopped, eyeing him cagily once more.

What was with this boy? Pitch wanted to groan in frustration. He acted like a caged cat.

After a moment though, the kid shot him an impish smirk, then suddenly darted to the side, climbing up the chain-link fence and vaulting himself to the top.

Pitch gaped in shock as the snowy haired boy leered down at him from his crouched position atop the fence, his bare feet curling around the metal bar.

"Anywhere," the boy answered, sly grin still plastered across his face, and his eyes as cold as the bitter winter surrounding them. "And everywhere."

Pitch shook himself of his astonishment, grimacing. "In other words, nowhere," he countered dryly.

Jack shrugged. "Call it what you want."

And with that the by stood up, and began walking, balancing perfectly on the thin rod, as if he were a tightrope walker.

"What are you doing?" Pitch barked in alarm, walking to catch up to the lithe teen.

Jack glanced down at him in confusion. "Uh… walking?"

"Get down from there," Pitch demanded. Just looking up at the boy made his head spin.

The boy snorted. "Oh, sure thing, Mom." He rolled his eyes. "Why should I?"

"Because," Pitch gestured to the concrete ground, "I don't particularly feel like watching someone crack their open, and bleed to death right in front of me today."

Jack let out a bark of laughter. "Aww, am I making you nervous?"

"Frankly, yes," Pitch snapped.

The boy just chuckled.

Pitch pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out along suffering sigh.

Finally, after a moment's pause, he said, "While I believe I already know your answer, I still must ask: Do you need a place to stay for the night?"

The snowy haired teen shot him a glare, all mirth and snark now gone. "I'm not some charity case, and I don't need your help. I'll be fine."

"It's below freezing out here," Pitch shrewdly pointed out. "And it's only going to get worse as the night wears on."

"So?" Jack asked, raising a brow. "I told you, I like the cold."

Pitch leveled the boy with a flat look. "You realize you are in no way dressed for the cold, correct?"

Jack blinked, before looking down at himself. "What do you mean?"

Pitch shot him an incredulous look. "You're only wearing a sweater. And you're barefoot."

"So?" The boy challenged once again.

Pitch resisted the urge to drag the teenager back to the ground and shake him.

"You're going to get frostbite."

"No, I'm not."

"You're not even wearing any shoes," Pitch said, gesturing animatedly.

Jack huffed. "You know in some countries, like Japan, it's actually frowned upon to wear shoes."

Pitch let out a long suffering sigh. "They frown upon wearing shoes inside, not out. And besides, the last time I was aware, this was America."

Jack just scoffed, before leaping off the top of the fence, landing in a crouch on the opposite side.

"Whatever," he shrugged. "Fact is I'm good as I am. So…" The boy trailed off, unsure how to proceed, before deciding on, "Nice to meet you, and have a nice life, I guess."

Pitch watched in a numbed sort of awe as the boy walked away, towards the back of the desolated factory.

Suddenly, reality seemed to set back in, and Pitch realized that if he didn't act fast, that this may be the last he saw of the boy.

Why did that bother him so much…?

But it seemed his own mouth betrayed him, not allowing him to ponder the question further.

"Wait!" He called.

Jack froze in his tracks, turning back to him. "What now?" he asked, clearly exasperated.

"I'd like to be able to talk with you again, tomorrow." Jack's eyebrows shot up at that, but Pitch continued on, voice even. "I've found our conversation to be very… interesting."

"Yeah…," Jack said slowly, clearly unsure and uncomfortable. "I don't think so. Thanks, but no thanks.

But before the teen could turn to leave, Pitch tried one more tactic.

"I'll buy you lunch."

Jack stopped once again before turning to face him fully.

"What?" He asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Pitch straightened his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back in an attempt to look more dignified, but it was futile. Here he was practically bribing a child to talk to him.

Oh well, Pitch thought sullenly, too late to turn back now.

"I have a meeting early tomorrow morning," Pitch said, "but I was hoping I could meet you for lunch. Maybe at one of the local diners, my treat."

A crease formed between Jack's brows as the boy eyed him. "I told you, I'm not going to take your charity."

"It's not charity," Pitch responded quickly. "It's a peace offering."

Pitch felt himself holding his breath as Jack seemed to genuinely consider the offer.

"Okay," the boy said slowly. "I suppose I can't really complain about free food. Besides," he shrugged, "I could always just ignore you."

Pitch… honestly had no idea how to respond to that.

"Meet me at Mary Sue's diner on South of Maine," Jack continued. "What time?"

Pitch swallowed hard. "Around one o'clock."

"Alright then," Jack gave a small nod as a sly smirk danced across his features. "See you then…Pitch."

And with that, the boy really was gone, disappeared behind the abandoned factory.

Pitch just stood there, frozen for a long moment, but he was able to gather his wits about him enough to call Boris to have the driver come pick him up.

But even as he stood waiting in the light dusting of snow waiting for his ride, Pitch couldn't stop asking himself one question:

What had he just gotten himself into?


AN: Thank you everyone who left reviews, followed, favorited, or just read, this story so far! You guys are so amazing, I wish I could just hug all of you!

This chapter is what inspired this story, and is actually the first chapter I wrote, so I hope it's okay. I had to go a bit out of comfort zone with it, but I hope I handled it tastefully. I also hope I kept everyone in character enough. That's probably my biggest concern at the moment. But I did my best! Chapter Four is currently being worked on, but some parts of it are being a pain. But I'll hopefully have it completely done with by the time I post chapter three next week. Hope to see y'all then!