The Body in the Shed – Chapter Four
Pitch groaned softly when he woke up- his neck hurt from the prolonged time stuck in that one position. Grumbling, he shifted his hand and rubbed the back of his neck, rolling it around a few times to relieve the stiffness. He heard a few soft mewls of sleep down against his chest, and when he looked he smiled at the way Jack and Emma had snuggled up together. They each were holding his shirt in their tiny hands, bunched in fists. And occasionally one of them would let a miniscule little snore rumble through their noses. All in all they looked absolutely precious.
Rubbing his hand over the tops of their heads, Pitch smiled at the way they each leaned into the touch. He decided to let them stay there until they felt like waking up. After that he'd make them some supper, or a midnight snack, or whatever. He had absolutely no idea what time it was, but he could tell that it was dark outside, as the dull glow of the embers in the fire provided the only real light.
He sat and stroked his palm over the tops of their heads. He would alternate from Jack to Emma, just petting the soft hairs that they both had. Jack took up a lot more space on the armchair than Emma did- his long, gangly legs were hanging off the edge of the cushion. Pitch reached down and adjusted the way his legs were, tucking them under his thin frame, and ruffled Jack's hair. The movement seemed to stir him, and Jack swayed his head a little, moaning softly.
Pitch just sat there, watching him wake up, not pressuring him into actually getting up if he didn't want to. Finally Pitch saw Jack blinking his eyes open. He released his grip on Pitch's shirt with one hand and rubbed the sleep sand from his eyes. He yawned quietly, clenching Pitch's shirt tighter with the hand that still held it, and rubbed his face back into Pitch's chest like he was going to sleep again.
But Pitch saw Jack continue blinking. He held his shirt in both hands now, and he didn't say anything, but he was definitely awake. He was probably still waking up… Eventually the big blue eyes that weren't really Jack's lifted up and blinked up at him. Yep, Jack was still trying to wake up, he looked tired.
Smiling down at him, Pitch ruffled his hair again and Jack's sleepy face slowly spread into a smile. "M'rn'ng," Jack mumbled, yawning again sleepily.
With a soft chuckle, Pitch said, "It's far from morning, Jack…"
Jack pressed the side of his face back into Pitch's chest and yawned again. He watched Emma sleeping for a minute or two before he muttered, "M'hungry…"
"I could make you something if you want," Pitch said, "Of course, after Emma wakes up…" Jack poked Emma's cheek and she shifted a little, but didn't wake. Jack poked her cheek again. Pitch stopped him. "Jack, that's no way to wake someone," he said.
"But I'm hungry…" Jack grumbled, looking up at him. Pitch laughed softly and shifted his weight a little.
"Take Emma," he said quietly. Jack scooped his arms around her and pulled her against him. She moaned quietly, but continued sleeping. Pitch carefully eased his way out of the armchair and said, "You just sit there with her and I'll get you something to eat…"
As he began walking away, he asked, "Want anything specific?"
He looked back to the skinny teen and waited. Jack thought about it for a little while and asked, "Would pasta be too much trouble…?"
Pitch chuckled warmly. "Hardly," he said. He went to the kitchen, turning a light on that was a little ways away from the living room. He didn't want to wake Emma if he didn't have to. She deserved to be able to sleep.
As the water boiled, Pitch came back out and re-lit the fire, fanning it softly and adding a bit more kindling to it. Jack watched from the chair, holding Emma in his arms, and he said in a quiet whisper, "Thank you, again… I know I'll never be able to repay you for this…"
Smiling to himself, Pitch replied, "I know. You'll never have to. Don't worry…" Once the fire was crackling brightly, he returned to the kitchen to continue making Jack some food. After a little while Pitch heard a yawn, higher than Jack's, and he smiled at the realization that Emma was awake.
"Good thing I've prepared enough for two," he said, smiling. After he had finished cooking the food, Pitch came out to the living room and peeked over the armchair. Jack smiled up at him, and Emma yawned. "Food's ready," he said.
Jack hopped up, still cradling Emma in his arms, and carried her to the little dining area. Pitch followed behind them, watching as Jack set Emma down in her own chair. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and hardly even noticed when Pitch set her plate before her. Jack had to nudge her gently for her to stop rubbing sand from her eyes and look down.
She smiled at the food, her stomach growling out of nowhere. She began eating happily, and Jack went to his own seat. He went to eat, but stopped. Pitch hoped he wasn't suddenly deciding on a different meal.
"Aren't you going to eat?" the blue eyed boy asked. Pitch chuckled a little, but made himself a plate and sat with the siblings. The three ate together, and Pitch noted to himself that they looked something of a family.
Once the eating was finished, and Emma was asking for dessert, Pitch decided to ask a bold question. "Why did they take the two of you to the camp anyhow? I know their reasons are pathetic, but they must have had one…" he spoke calmly, not forcing an answer, just hoping for one.
Emma blinked and frowned unhappily. She looked down and didn't talk. Jack, however sad he looked, said, "Our dad spoke out against the government… And… I went with him to a protest once… They figured the whole family was a threat…"
Pitch looked between the two of them. How anyone could find these two tiny children even mildly threatening was beyond him.
