AN: I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Pitch stared into the synthetic hearth as flames of the electric fire place licked at the glass walls. It had been a long day, and he certainly had a lot to think about.

Something wasn't right about this entire situation. Jack Frost had become a problem, a constant yearning question, that left him unsure how to handle any of the circumstances, yet unable to drop the ordeal all together.

Something was just… amiss.

It had to happen often enough. Children being orphaned, or cast out by parents, or living on the streets. It happened. Regrettable, but true. And he had always understood that there was little he could do to change that fact…. So why did it feel so wrong to just leave the child to his fate?

Jack obviously wanted to take care of himself. Pitch was willing to bank on the boy having more than just a few trust issues, and the child had been on his own for so long… He had been alone for so long that Pitch doubted he even knew what to do with himself around most people.

Pitch should just be able to call the authorities, the local social worker, anyone, and could easily rectify the problem without ever having to involve himself.

But it was wrong. Somehow, someway he was tied to this boy; he had been since Jack first stole his pocket watch. He just couldn't put his finger on why.

He slumped down in the chair with a mighty sigh, rubbing at his temples. It had been a very long day. And he was no closer to setting his mind at ease as he had been before.

Pitch finally just leaned back, letting his eyes drift shut. The shadows casted by the flames flickered across his face, alighting some of his features. Synthetic or not, the fire reminded him a bit of home. Of a different fire place, in a different, much less silent, room from what seemed to be so long ago.

The fire crackled in the small stone outcrop as thunder shook the entire house. Lightning lit up the dark widows, throwing the shadows into sharp relief.

But despite the howling wind, two figures huddled together on the cozy living room couch with nothing lighting the darkness but the fire, laughing.

Seraphina sat, enraptured with her father's tale as he told of heroes of old times, and of new.

"And there the horse stayed," Pitch finished, his face a solemn façade, "until he learned to eat his vegetables."

His daughter let out a giggle.

"Daddy, that isn't how the story ends," she chastised, pouting even as she tried to fight off a smile. "And you know it!"

Pitch drew back, looking affronted. "It most certainly is how the story ends. I should know. I'm the one who tells it. Besides, it has the most relevance to real life."

Sera scrunched up her nose. "I'm still not eating my vegetables."

Pitch shot her a playful glare. "Why you-"

He swooped down on her, running his fingers over her sides, tickling her as she fell back, shrieking with laughter.

"St-St-Cut it out!" The girl cried through her giggles, the smile never leaving her face. She reached out, her own hands hoping to find something to use in retaliation.

Her hands finally found purchase on his shoulders, and her frail form just barely managed to push her father enough to cause him to roll off the couch and onto the floor (Though admittedly, she was met with little resistance. But neither party was willing to point that out.).

She glanced down at him, green eyes (her mother's eyes, she'd always looked so much like her) wide as she gazed down at him curiously.

Pitch just gazed back at her, stunned, before bursting out laughing. Seraphina joined in only a moment later; the giddy laughter was absolutely infectious.

They smiled back at each other as Pitch climbed back onto the couch. Sera curled into his side as thunder boomed outside and lightning lit up the windows with a harsh light.

She wasn't scared anymore, that much Pitch was relieved for. When he had found her still up at this hour of night, unable to sleep with the storm raging outside, he wasn't sure what he could do for her.

Both father and daughter were completely content to just sit in each other's presence, letting the firelight dance across their faces.

But finally, Sera broke the comfortable silence.

"Daddy?"

Pitch hummed in question, "Yes, Princess?"

Seraphina was silent for a beat. "Why were those men just standing on the street?" she asked.

Pitch's eye's opened fully as he turned to look down at her. She must have been referring to the homeless men that had been out on the streets near the hospital that day. He gazed down at his daughter, not quite sure how to answer.

"Well…" he finally said, "It's because they don't have a home."

He didn't have to wait long for that to sink in. "What? You mean they don't have any place to live?" Sera asked, seeming horrified at the concept.

Pitch just nodded.

"That's horrible!" she gasped. She paused for a moment, before turning to her father pleadingly, "….Daddy, why don't we help them? We have pleny of room! They could live here! Or-or, we could give them money and they could- they could-"

"Sera-Sera-Sera," Pitch cut in, laughing softly as he took hold of her wildly flailing arms, holding her in place. "It doesn't work that way, sweetie," he said gently. "I'm sorry it just doesn't. We can't just go about the world trying to save everyone.

"Well, why not?" his daughter demanded, pouting.

Pitch paused, thinking over how to best reply. He hadn't really intended to have this conversation with Sera at such a young age. But, she had always been a remarkably sharp, and curious, girl, so he supposed he should have expected as much.

He wasn't even sure if he could properly put it into words.

"Well…" he finally replied, "you see sweetheart, there are many people in the world, many, many people, who need someone. And sometimes the person they need… well, it just isn't us."

Seraphina frowned, brows furrowing in consternation as she puzzled out her father's reply.

"So how can you tell the difference?" she asked. "How do you know whether you're the person they need or not?"

Now that was something he really couldn't put into words.

Pitch sighed. "There's no certain way I can really tell you." He paused for a moment, considering. "But… when the time comes, you'll know."

"How?"

Pitch smiled down at her. "You'll be able to feel it. Right, here," he said, poking her in the chest, above her heart.

Seraphina giggled before batting her father's hand away.

"Promise?" she probed.

Pitch nodded, still smiling softly as he moved his pinky finger across his chest, saying, "Cross my heart."

Pitch's eyes fluttered open as he rubbed at them with the back of his hand.

He must have dozed off for a moment…

Pitch frowned as he leaned back in the chair, pondering over the memory, a dull ache resounding in his chest. That had been many years ago… He was surprised he had remembered it now when it had escaped him before.

Every moment he had ever shared with his daughter had been precious, but as time wore on, well… his memory was no longer what it used to be.

…He wondered if he could even recall her laugh before this. He had always loved her laugh.

But he had forgotten… He had forgotten what he had told her so long ago in front of the fire place. How could he have forgotten?

His mind flashed back to Jack, white haired, barefoot, snarky and defensive, Jack.

"Sometimes the person they need… well, it just isn't us."

"How do you know whether you're the person they need or not?"

"When the time comes, you'll know."

His hand moved subconsciously to grab hold of the silver pocket watch. Seraphina's bright smile and warm green eyes passed through his mind's eye. He may not have remembered before, but he did now.

And now… Pitch understood he needed to do.

Pitch took a deep breath before glancing back down at his pocket watch. Nine o' Two. They'd have to be in by now…

There's no reason to be nervous, He chastised himself as he let out a shaky breath.

Finally, he picked up the phone and dialed the number from the phone book.

It rang once.

Twice.

Three Times.

Pitch bit his lip, feeling impatience overtake him. What if they weren't in?

Four

Fiv-

"Seattle Youth Services Bureau, how may I help you?" a distinctively female voice asked.

Pitch blinked, subconsciously straightening his posture, even though the woman on the other end couldn't see him.

"Ah, yes. Hello. This is Mr. Black. I was calling looking for the Social Worker in charge of the orphanages and foster homes in downtown Chicago."

"This is she speaking. My name is Lauren Carpwright, what can I do for you?" She replied, her voice saccharine sweet.

"I was calling to inquire about the files of one of the children under your jurisdiction," He said, trying not to hold his breath.

"Alright, and who are you looking for?"

"A boy named Jack."

The woman hummed from the other end of the line. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to give me more information than that, sir. Last name?"

"I-," Pitch shook his head in frustration. "He doesn't have one. His name is Jack, but he might be under the name Jackson, I'm not sure. He's about seventeen years old."

"I'm still going to need a last name, sir," she said gently.

"Didn't you hear me?" he snapped. "He doesn't have one! All I know is that he goes by the name Jack Frost. He's about seventeen, and-"

"There's no one in the system that goes by that name," the woman cut him off coldly.

"Wha-" Pitch broke off with a growl. "There has to be. He has white hair, always walks around barefoot, he's not currently living with-"

"There is no one in the system that matches that description," Lauren repeated, her voice tight. "I'm sorry, but I cannot help you."

"I-"

Pitch didn't even get another word in before the line went dead.

He stood there as the dial tone rung in his ears, before slamming the phone down into the cradle with a cry of frustration.

The woman was lying; she had to have been. There was no other explanation for why she had suddenly become so defensive and tight lipped at the mere mention of Jack Frost.

Fine. I'll figure this out myself, he seethed.

He glanced up at the clock. He had to start getting ready for his meeting soon. But three o'clock wasn't too far off. Hopefully he'd have enough time to get his thoughts together before meeting Jack.

Pitch had a feeling that this conversation wasn't going to be an easy one…

Damnit, Pitch growled to himself as he strode across the snow covered sidewalk. That meeting was supposed to be short, for God's sake.

The conference was supposed to just be a matter of ironing out a few details in the contract, but of course, of course it couldn't be that simple. It seemed that some sort of mistake was found no matter where they looked.

And now he was already fifteen minutes late. Fifteen minutes late, and all the possible worst case scenarios were suddenly playing out in his mind.

What if Jack had already left, having gotten bored waiting for him?

What if someone had spotted the boy while he waited, and recognized him for a previous crime?

What if Jack hadn't come at all?

What if he hadn't come because the men from before really had found him-

Stop it, Pitch scolded himself. Jumping to conclusions isn't going to help anything.

Pitch held his breath as he came upon the coy fish pond that lay in the middle of the park.

Was anyone there? He couldn't tell from this far back…

But he didn't get another two steps before something else drew his attention.

Laughter.

And not just any laughter.

Pitch glanced off to his right, and there, not far from the coy pond, a snowball fight was taking place.

There were children in colorful hats, scarves, and jackets everywhere, running about, shrieking with laughter as they pelted each other with hard packed snow. One little girl was even chasing some of the children down with the head of a snowman. And there, in the middle of all the chaos, was Jack, his white hair blending in with the winter wonderland surrounding him. The boy ducked and dodged, all while pelting kids at random with chunks of snow, laughing all the way.

Pitch stopped, and just looked on in awe as they played.

He hadn't been aware that Jack- guarded, sarcastic Jack- could act so… carefree. As if he still had the spirit of a child within him.

Another trait to add to the growing list of curiosities about the boy.

Pitch was content to just watch for now, he didn't want to interrupt their fun. Besides, he wasn't sure when he'd next get a chance to see Jack laugh like that, as if all his walls were suddenly gone. He had the feeling it was a rare occurrence. So he'd leave them be for now.

Pitch wasn't sure how long he had stood there, or when he had begun drifting forward, closer and closer to the edge of the field where the children were playing. But eventually, Jack must have spotted him out of the corner of his eye, and the boy quickly veered off path from where he was tossing ammunition to some of the children and jogged over to where Pitch was standing.

"Hey, old man," Jack greeted cheerfully, his cheeks flushed from the cold and exertion. "About time you got here."

"Sorry about that," Pitch said, inclining his head, and glancing over to see the children still playing as if their playmate hadn't left them. "The meeting ran a bit late. But by all means, don't let me stop your fun." He gestured towards the kids.

"Huh?" Jack glanced back behind him, at the field he had just been playing in. "Oh, no. Don't worry about that. Besides, I'm hungry anyways," he replied with a cheeky smirk.

Pitch looked back down at him, seeing the grin that overtook Jack's features and his over bright eyes, and just shook his head. "Alright then, let's grab something from a vender then."

Jack nodded, and in no time, they were both seated at a bench near the coy fish pond, where they could still see the children playing, continuing with their chilly war, as they munched contently on their hotdogs.

Or at least, Jack was. More like, he was wolfing it down as if he was afraid it might run away from him.

Pitch was more content with just having a few small bites here and there. He had honestly never been one for street vender food, but he supposed it'd have to do for now.

"So," Pitch began as Jack finished off the last of his meal, "are you sure you're little friends won't miss you?"

Jack just snorted. "Trust me, they won't even notice I'm gone. I might as well be a ghost to them."

Pitch paused in taking a bite from his hot dog. "What do you mean by that?"

"You know, just that I'm kinda invisible around here," Jack said with a shrug, slumping down on the bench as his previous energy finally seemed to leave him.

Pitch turned fully to look at the boy, confusion written across his features. "I'm not sure I follow."

Jack sighed. "Look, in case you didn't notice, those kids, and everyone else in this park, barely even looked at me. It's sorta the unspoken rule about people like me. Ignore the homeless kid unless they're doing something wrong. How do you think I haven't gotten picked up by the cops before now?" Jack grimaced. "They know I'm out here, the social workers know I'm out here, but none of em' want to throw me behind bars for it, or back in a home. So the next best thing for them to do is just pretend like I don't exist in the first place."

Pitch frowned, his brows drawing together in consternation. "But that's not a solution to anything," he argued.

"It is to them. What you can't see can't cause trouble for you." Jack just shrugged again. "So to all of them, I'm just invisible."

Pitch looked away, unsure how to process that. How does one reply to a confession like that?

But Jack didn't give him much chance to mull it over.

"Which brings me to what I'm curious about," Jack said suddenly, turning to face Pitch fully, expression searching. "If I'm invisible around here, why did you see me?"

The boy's voice was hard, but the look in his eyes was desperate, searching for an answer. And Pitch honestly wasn't sure what he could tell him. He couldn't answer all the questions Jack's eyes were asking. Couldn't tell him why he had been ignored in the first place. Couldn't tell him why he had been left alone. And because he couldn't answer those, he couldn't answer the question the boy was asking of him now.

So he answered honestly, just as he had all those years ago in front of the fireplace during a thunderstorm. "I don't know," Pitch said, voice a mere whisper. "I honestly don't. All I know, is that I honestly don't know how I, or anyone else for that matter, could have not noticed you."

Jack drew back, obviously a bit surprised by the earnest reply. He turned away, tucking his hands into his hoodie pocket with a derisive snort.

"Yeah, that's not a vague answer," he grumbled.

Pitch just smirked down at him. "Then I guess we're two for two on that front."

Jack just shot him a glare, and huffed.

Pitch resisted the urge to laugh before continuing. "So, since you had the first curiosity satisfied, does that mean it's my turn?"

Jack just gave a dismissive wave of his hand as he brought his knees up to his chest. "Go right ahead."

Pitch raised a brow, but didn't question it. "You never really told me before, why did you leave the foster home you were at?"

Jack gave a sharp bark of laughter. "Now that is a long story. But to make a long story short: The guy running the joint was a complete and total bastard. So I left."

"Is the way you're living now truly that much better?" Pitch prodded, frowning in disbelief.

Jack averted his gaze. "It's complicated," he muttered into his knees. "It was the best solution at the time. Now… it's pretty much the only solution."

Pitch paused, taking a deep breath. Well, it was now or never. Otherwise, he was almost positive that he'd lose his nerve. He just hoped he didn't scare the boy off.

"What about adoption?" he asked conversationally.

Jack glanced back up at him in confusion. "What about it?"

"Have you- Has it ever been an option?" Pitch licked his lips, trying to keep his nerve. "Did anyone ever…"

Jack just stared at him for a long moment before bursting out laughing. "Yo-You're kidding me, right?" he gasped between breaths.

Pitch didn't respond, and just continued to watch the boy, expression deliberately blank.

Gradually, Jack's chortles died down, and his smile slipped away as he realized that Pitch wasn't responding.

"Okay, wow. You're… not kidding," he said slowly, bewildered comprehension finally dawning on him. Jack cast Pitch a funny look before turning his eyes skyward as he sighed. "You did hear me when I told you that I was found when I was nine, right?"

"Yes," Pitch replied with a terse nod.

Jack eyed him incredulously, raising a brow. "Dude, do you have any idea how much harder it is to find someone to take a kid in if they're over the age of five? Much less ten? By the time the authorities gave up the search and even opened up that option, there was almost no way. Besides, I wasn't exactly known as the "golden child" back then either. And after you turn fifteen?" Jack scoffed, "You might as well forget it."

"What if someone did try to gain legal custody of you now?" Pitch inquired, trying to keep his apprehension hidden.

"Didn't you just hear me?" Jack demanded, shooting Pitch an annoyed glare. "It's not gonna happen. Especially not now."

"But if it did," Pitch pressed.

Jack just gave another long suffering sigh, before answering, "It would be kinda pointless at this point. I mean, I only have about a year and a half left before I'm legal…" He paused, throwing a curious look over at Pitch. "Why are you asking anyways?"

Well, at least he could get this over with quickly.

Pitch drew a deep breath.

"Because I was thinking about trying to put an adoption through." Jack just continued to stare at him, obviously not catching on. " … For you."

That seemed to wake the boy up.

"Wait- What?" Jack cried, bolting upright and staring at Pitch, clearly thrown.

Pitch barreled on, trying to explain himself before Jack had a chance to run off. "I had been thinking that perhaps I could solve a few of your problems by making myself your legal guardian."

Jack just gaped at Pitch. He sat there frozen for what seemed like eons. He looked so bewildered that Pitch almost found it comical. But slowly Jack seemed to withdraw from his shock, and his jaw clenched as his eyes hardened.

Jack was up in a flash, storming off in the opposite direction with a noise of disgust.

Pitch sat there, momentarily stunned, before he finally regained his wits and jumped to his feet, hurrying after the boy.

"Wa-Wait!" Pitch called. "Where are you going?"

Although really, Pitch could honestly say that he should have expected Frost to react like this.

"Away from here!" Jack shot back, without bothering to look over his shoulder.

Pitch was now having to jog to catch up with him, and was becoming increasingly flustered.

"Wh- What are you- Stop!" He spluttered, reaching out a hand to the boy, only to have it knocked away as he sped up. "Slow down. Would you just- STOP!" He grabbed Jack by his shoulder, and forcefully spun the child around to face him. "What's on earth has gotten into you?" Pitch demanded.

"Into me?" The boy shouted, gesturing wildly. "You've got to be kidding me. You just told me you wanted to adopt me!"

"And?" Pitch challenged, fists clenching. "I'm not quite sure how that warrants this type of response."

Jack's features twisted into a snarl. "Just what the hell are you playing at?"

Pitch drew back at the sudden hostility. "Pardon?"

"What do you want, huh?" Jack barked, taking a step forward. "First, saving me from those bastards, which fine. Okay, I get it. Returning a favor because it's only cuz' of you I was put in that position to begin with."

Pitch reeled back, flabbergasted. "Are you-"

But Jack didn't even let him get a word in before barreling on. "But then the free meals? All that crap about being curious? About your daughter, all of it?" He pushed forward, gesturing sharply between himself and Pitch. "What are you trying to do, huh? What do you want? I. STOLE. FROM YOU! And now, you're asking me to let you adopt me? What the hell? What do you want?" Jack cried, his voice hoarse and cracking.

"I don't want anything from you-"

"Bullshit!" The boy snapped.

"Jack-!"

Jack just continued to advance on him, but this time Pitch held his ground. "You don't pull all this crap without wanting something!" he said, jabbing his finger at Pitch. "What is it? Do you want me to be your little "go to" boy?"

"WHAT?" Pitch practically screeched, appalled. He wasn't even entirely sure what that meant, but from what he could glean from the implications of the title, it wasn't something anyone would want to be used for. "Will you just-"

"Want me to do your dirty work, too? Maybe make a buck off of me?" Jack sneered, still pressing forward.

Pitch tried once more, "Just st-"

"Need a scapegoat or something?" Jack continued, unrelenting. "Or what? You want some cheap publicity? Oh yeah, 'Owner of Black Enterprises Adopts Homeless Childhood Thief.' That'll look great on the front page!"

This was getting too far out of hand. "Would you ju-"

"Or what? You want me to be some sort of replacement for your dead daughter, or something?"

Slap!

The sound of Pitch's hand striking Jack's cheek seemed to resound all around them.

Silence rang out in place of the clamor their argument had caused.

Pitch's breathing was ragged, as he slowly lowered his hand (he wasn't even completely sure how it had gotten there to begin with), his eyes never leaving Jack's face.

Jack seemed frozen in time, his head still turned slightly to the side, and his eyes unblinking, obviously shocked.

The pink hand-print on his face already fading from sight, so Pitch was glad to see that he could not have hit him too hard. He hadn't meant to lose his head.

But it seemed to have the desired effect nonetheless.

The boy had finally quieted down, and now turned to look at Pitch, trepidation written across his features.

But at least he wasn't running away. Hopefully that meant he was now willing to listen to reason.

Finally, Pitch drew himself up to his full height. "You will never be a replacement for my daughter," he rasped. "Not you, or anyone else!" He paused, taking a shaky breath, before looking back at Jack, his expression softening. "I don't need you to be her replacement, and I don't want you to be either."

Jack just continued to stare up at him, his eyes darting across Pitch's face, expression unreadable.

Pitch just did his best to ignore it, and just sighed. "Now, will you just stop for one minute, and stop jumping to conclusions?"

Jack glanced to the side, before giving a terse nod.

Pitch pursed his lips but didn't comment. Instead he continued, "I understand your trepidation in this situation. And I apologize for losing my temper, but there are lines that shouldn't be crossed. But you have no reason to suspect an ulterior motive from me. I'm merely offering you a home, no strings attached. You could use some stability and protection, and I could use the company. It could easily be mutually beneficial for both of us."

Great, now this sounded like a business pitch. The kid was sure to buy that…

Pitch felt like smacking himself in the forehead, but restrained himself. No point in getting flustered over spilled milk.

Jack just shot him a glare, obviously unimpressed. "You do realize that I'm not just some dog that you can pick up off the streets or some animal shelter and take home, right? That's not how it works."

"Yes, I'm aware," Pitch confirmed. "I just… It wouldn't sit well with me. To just leave you to things, all on your own. Especially with the luck you seem to have. I have enough difficulty sleeping knowing your out here as is. I'm not sure I'd ever get any rest after I leave the city if I just left you here."

Pitch regretted the last part as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Damnit. He hadn't meant to make himself seem vulnerable in front of the boy. Now he had probably bruised both his pride, and his dignity.

Jack considered him carefully. "And what's to say I want to stay with you? I'm not really much for staying tied down to one spot."

Pitch merely shrugged. "If you stay for a month, then wish to leave, I'd let you. You could keep in contact, and I'd be more than willing to send you the support you needed, so long as you kept your activities, legal," he stressed, pinning Jack with a look. "Or, if that's too restricting for you, then I could have you legally emancipated if you so wished, and you could be legally free to do whatever you wished without my consent."

"Why bring this up now?" Jack asked.

Pitch grimaced. "I'm only going to be in town a few more days. Pretty soon, the contract I'm drawing up with the company I'm visiting will be signed. After that, I'm off again. Besides, you said you were going to be leaving soon. It's either now or never."

Jack just shook his head. "They're never going to put it through. My files are complicated enough, and besides, it's like I said: invisible. They'd never allow it."

"I believe I could change their minds. I'm rather talented in the art of persuasion," Pitch insisted. "It is, after all, a part of the profession," he said, tightening his tie and straightening his back.

Jack snorted with laughter at the man's display, before stopping to give the offer serious consideration. "All right," he conceded slowly. "If you're so sure you can get them on your side, then how bout' this: If you can get them to agree to put the adoption through before you have to skip town, then sure. I'll buy into this."

Pitch felt a huge wave of relief break over him, as his lips pulled back into a smile. "Thank you."

Jack scoffed. "Not sure what you've got me to thank for."

A secretive smile stole over Pitch's expression, and his eyes glinted as he turned back to the field of snow where the children were still playing. "Who knows."

Jack just rolled his eyes, before following his gaze.

Pitch wasn't sure how long they stood there, just enjoying the scene around them (Pitch was glad to see that it didn't look as if they'd scared off too many people with their previous argument.). For once Jack was silent beside him.

Not for the first time, Pitch found himself wishing he could somehow see into the boy's mind. He wasn't use to being completely unable to guess the thoughts of his companions. Most people were easier to read.

Then again, most people weren't quite this guarded.

But nonetheless, the silence that reigned between them was much like the one from the diner the day before; it was neither strained, nor companionable. It just was.

As Pitch watched the children as their snowball war gradually fell away and they began taking part in other snow games, he couldn't help remembering Jack's laugh from before. Carefree and light as the wind around them.

"You know," he said suddenly, "despite whether they noticed you or not, you really did seem to be having fun out there."

Jack shot him an amused smirk. "Well don't sound so surprised," he snickered. "I'm always game for a bit of fun."

Pitch raised a brow. "I honestly didn't take this to be your sort of scene. Especially considering the… circumstances."

"You mean the whole, homeless and stalked by criminals thing?" The boy asked bluntly.

Pitch glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "Yes… that. I didn't think you'd be the type to bother with these sorts of places."

Jack shrugged. "If you ask me, it's the best place to be. I mean, yeah. A lot of things suck right now, but there's also a lot of good things that I can appreciate as well. No point in moping about the bad stuff all the time, when you've got something good right in front of you, right?"

Pitch glanced down at him, impressed. "That's a surprisingly… cheerful viewpoint coming from you."

Jack just gave a dismissive wave. "Hey, I'm generally a happy person." He threw Pitch an impish smirk. "I just don't like you."

"Really? I could have never guessed," Pitch drawled, pinning the boy with a dry look.

Jack just laughed, before turning away, beginning to walk in the opposite direction. "Tell you what, if you can get this adoption put through, meet me here again at six tomorrow evening. If it'll fit into your schedule that is. If you don't, then don't bother showing up."

Pitch nodded, though Jack couldn't see it at this point. "Sounds fair," he said, before smirking back at the boy. "And I look forward to getting the chance to change your opinion of me."

Jack just snorted, tossing Pitch one last look over his shoulder. "Yeah. We'll see."

Pitch just smiled as he watched Jack disappear, before turning in the opposite direction and taking out his pocket watch.

Smiling to himself as he ran his fingers over the intricate silver design, he murmured, "We'll see."

"Daddy?"

"Hmm?"

"Why is it that only certain people need our help?"

"Because sweetheart… The people who need us, well… we're usually the ones that need them too."

AN:I hope this turned out okay. Writers block gave me hell for a good portion of it. Once again, characterization is a concern, so I hope I did okay. And don't worry things will be picking up pace soon. I'm currently working on chapter five so hopefully I can have it posted in the next week.
As always, I hope you enjoyed and concrit is appreciated! Thank you to all of you beautiful people who have reviewed, followed, favorited, or just read this story! You're all wonderful!