Hey everyone, glad to see that some of you heeded my warning for the reviews (but more of you didn't and Pitch is not pleased.
Now we're going to get a glimpse of Darcy's past, and I hope you enjoy.
Reviews are appreciated for your own safety!
Pitch: you've all been warned-
*Locks him in the closet and jams the door shut*
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD REVIEW!
Darcy Malone.
North sighs and pinches at the bridge of his nose.
Darcy had been one of the first to send him her list as a child every year, and certainly in the top 5 most polite.
A funny thing about North; he has photographic memory, and he can remember all the children that wrote to him over the years; he'd organized everything into a massive file and record room that took up nearly 4 stories and an entire wing of his fortress.
He also knows when the girl stopped writing to him.
"Darcy Malone…there's a name I never thought I'd hear again…" North strokes his beard thoughtfully, and Jack waits impatiently. "Well, Jack, it's easier for children to believe than adults because…well as they get older, they demand more."
"What do you mean?"
"Children's beliefs are pure. They need very little to stay constant but, when they grow and learn more about the world and science, they doubt themselves. They need to be proven that we exist, and we can't work like that. But that's only some of them, I'm afraid." The mountain of a man sighs heavily, and Jack realizes, painfully, how old this man is, and how many children lost their faith in him.
"Others…other children are forced to grow up. Whether their home is not favorable, or they suffer great tragedy, something happens that they abandon their inner child so they will not be hurt anymore, like Darcy had to." Jack doesn't understand, so North stands and indicates that Jack follow him.
North leads Jack past the workshop and testing room, the labs, the kitchens, the guest rooms and the globe room, until he is in a very quiet part of the fortress.
Before them are massive, carved doors easily three times as wide as North, and quite a few times taller.
"Come Jack, I tell you about Darcy." North pushes open the doors, and all Jack can see are shelves of file cabinets and books and scrolls and papers. It's like some kind of library. To Jack, there doesn't seem to be any order, but North obviously has some sort of system because he leaves Jack for no more than a minute and a half before returning with a large file.
There is a single table, and North orders him to sit at the one chair, while North himself goes through to find what he is looking for, before producing a stack of papers from near the end.
"When child stops believing in me, personally, there's a group of yeti who investigate covert to see what happened. Normally is usual; too old, spied Mom and Dad putting a couple gifts under tree, that sort of thing. But poor, poor Darcy…" North tsks sadly. "Good girl, not once on naughty list; one or two fights when she was young, but those were protecting younger Jamie. Spent a lot of time with him…the year Sophie was born, she stayed with him for the Christmas holidays, you remember him telling you this?" North asks, Jack nods, feeling a stone rise into his throat. "Her mother came to get her from the Bennett's. Good woman, believed in me until she was 14. They were driving home when snow storm hit. Total white out. Couldn't see the road. A pick-up truck going too fast veered into their lane. Mrs. Malone saw it too late to do anything other than let go of wheel and shield Darcy."
"Was she-"
"No Jack," North says quietly. "She died on impact, along with the other driver and his passenger. Storm was impassable for almost a day. No one found them until then, when they had to clear roads. Darcy suffered from a serious case of pneumonia and broken arm, a concussion, two broken ribs, one of which punctured a lung, as well as a broken collarbone. Poor dear was in that car, staring at her Mother's corpse that entire time. The pneumonia nearly killed her, she was in that hospital for a long time. At one point, Darcy slipped into a coma for nearly 3 out of it though, and her body recovered, but her? No."
"That's…that's awful." Jack has a horrible thought and stares at North in fear. "Was I responsible for the snow storm?" North chuckles darkly.
"No, Jack. You were in London, icing down power lines." North denies, making Jack sigh in relief. "Sad part not over. Darcy's father didn't understand what to do; his family shattered, and so turned to the bottle. He moved them to Ireland before the problem got serious, but…"
"I understand." Jack whispers, feeling nothing but pity.
"Blamed her for death of Mother. Had she not been coward to hide with cousins, Mother would not be gone. Called her 'monster', and 'murderer'. That was when she gave up belief."
"Jamie never did tell me how her father died. Is that in there?" Jack wonders, North suddenly looks even more sympathetic.
"Yes. But that is not your business, Jack. Now, what is so important about this girl? Darcy has gone through much, yes, but she is no different than others."
"North, she might have been my first believer. Of course she's important, and and…the kids, they said they're going to try and make her believe in me, whatever that means." North stares at the boy immortal.
"Jack, you must understand. Children grow up, they may stop knowing us, but other will take their place. It is painful, but you get used to the fact after a while." North can't tell the boy that it isn't true; that every light that goes out, naturally, feels like a failure as a guardian. Jack doesn't have to know that, he'll discover it soon enough.
Jack can't take that answer; his mind is spinning. He stands up and flies out of the room, leaving North in the record hall alone.
(line)-
The next person that Jack goes to is Tooth, who listens to what he has to say, however, upon hearing the name, she begins grinning brightly.
"Darcy Malone? Ooh! That girl was always such a joy!"
"Wait, what?" Jack asks in confusion as Tooth flits about excitedly.
"I don't get many kids who lose their teeth multiple times, but I remember most of the ones that do!" Tooth was so excited she could hardly get the words out. "She lost 3 different teeth twice, and 2 others 3 times, not to mention they were the sweetest teeth you've ever seen!" Despite the fact that he loves Tooth like a mother, he realizes that he won't get anything more useful from her at the moment, and so settled to wait her out.
(line)
"Darcy, Darcy, what's this?" Caleb asks, shoving a jade colored carved dragon under my nose as I try to take inventory of my things.
"It's a magic dragon that can tell the future on a moonless night, if you listen close." I reply with ease, making him stare at it in wonder.
In truth, I got it from a thrift shop in California. When I got bored and it was raining, or the thought of painting or working made me sick, I invented stories for some of the things that I had lying around the apartment (or hanging from the walls, ceiling, or resting on the shelves). Now I'm glad that I did.
The kids were having way too much fun with my stuff to drink much hot chocolate, and settled instead for me telling them made up fables and histories for some of my things, including: a glass, sphere paperweight with the words Verba, Pondus Habent (words have weight) inscribed onto it; a silk Japanese fan, dried herbs in jars sealed with wax, a bag of strange stones, a bag of smooth stones inscribed with runes, books bound in leather and written in different languages, crystals, burned out candle stubs, candle holders and inking pens and bottles of India Ink.
After a bit of encouraging from Jamie, the kids warmed up to me and began shyly talking to me, and, within two hours they're eating out of my hand, figuratively.
Things are starting to look good in here, and I'm glad that the kids took to helping with such gusto; if there's anything that kids like, it's interesting stuff, particularly if it's old.
Amy wasn't quite sure what to make of everything when she peeked in to check on us and saw a group of 8 and 9 year olds handling my things like they were precious instruments and me detailing their 'histories' to them.
All day we set things up and I adjust and tweak until everything is to my liking; from some of the beams in the ceiling are wind chimes near the window, and chimes of colored glass in other places that cast light on the ceiling above my bed like the Aurora Borealis, dream catchers were nailed above my bed as well, colored glass bottles that may have once held medicine or perfume, of all shapes and sizes and colors, were in the window, and next to the seat is my grandiose pile of books. My easel is in the corner, next to the remaining boxes (clothes, I don't want the kids going through them and pawing into my underwear by accident, or what remains of my jewelry, or, worst of all, my pictures).
Now that the sun has set, and the snow is falling again, Sophie is wrestling with her mother, fighting to stay awake.
Dinner was…quiet…it's not like it used to be, and it dawned on me that things really have changed. My uncle didn't come home for dinner, and an instinct in me, that I'd hoped was dead, sensed an impending argument from Jamie's parents once his father got home.
Funny, how easy it is to smell something like that on the wind when you're older.
Jamie's got no clue what's coming, but maybe Sophie does; she doesn't want to go to bed. Personally, I believe that it's some little kid logic; maybe she thinks if she doesn't go to bed, they won't argue.
Won't make much of a difference to me.
When I worked out the details with Amy about me staying her, I didn't feel the need to illustrate the insomnia I'd suffered since I got back to the states. I was able to sleep okay, but then the nightmares started u, and it's easier for me to just stay awake and work through the night than sleep with my fist to my mouth so I won't wake anyone up with my screaming (that happened in California; the neighbors had called the police and they'd shown up at my door, guns drawn).
So I set up my canvas, and pick out my paints and charcoals for my project tonight, and change into something that could pass as pajamas (black capri sweats, and a black tank top that I embroidered with silver flowers in bloom near the hem). I braid my hair, and then push it out of my face with a deep purple bandana.
"Um, Darcy?" Jamie knocks awkwardly at my door.
"You can come in, Jay-Bird." He's blushing at the nickname from when he was small, but doesn't completely object to it. He looks nervous, standing there in his pj's, barefoot.
(line)
Jamie looks up at his beautiful cousin, and feels, for the first time, uneasy in this room, and about her.
This afternoon, she was simply Darcy Helen Malone; a girl who knew and saw too much, and loved with all her heart. But now, in the low light of the dark, here stood a Darcy he'd never met, one that seemed darker, more sinister, less indulgent and harder to faze.
"I…I just came to say good-night, Darcy." Jamie says, swallowing as he eyes the cluttered shelves; was it only this afternoon that he and his friends had played with some of these things? It seemed longer. But then, everything did at night.
Darcy smiles and kisses his forehead, and for all the world, Jamie thinks she looks like the saddest person that he's ever seen.
"Sweet dreams, Jamie, Is féidir na naoimh a threorú do chodladh agus a thabhairt cothrom aisling go leor, ceann beag leat*." She whispers and then kisses his hair.
"What does that mean?" Jamie asks in confusion, and Darcy just smiles.
"Just a prayer. Go on and get some sleep, I hear you've got school in the morning." Jamie smiles wickedly, and for a brief moment it's Darcy's smile.
"It'll be a snow day."
"And how do you know that, Jamie?"
"Just do. G'night, Darce." And then the boy was hurrying to his room, shivering.
(line)
In the darkness of the world, a shadow brews; it is haunted, it is angry and it knows that it is weak.
Pitch Black, hungry for revenge, and glad to have his powers back once more, slinks through the shadows as he heads to his first destination, knowing just who to hunt first.
Jamie Bennett.
(End Scene)
*-May Saints Guard your sleep and give you fair dreams, Little One