Memories and Nightmares 6

The scenes changed and for a moment Jack felt nausea. He found himself clinging to Pitch more. How the hell could anyone move through memories in such a way? This in itself as a nightmare and that was saying a lot for someone who rode the winds and had stood in the heart of a hurricane. Not even the worse blizzard could compare to the world wind of memories that rushed past him. He saw the way the world changed for Pitch, how children started to no longer fear him let alone knew who or what he was. Days turned to months, months to years and years into decades. Jack was confused; he thought he would get to see his sister again. Why was Pitch taking him so far away from the accident? When the rush of memories slowed to a standstill Jack again found himself at his pond.

Nothing had changed except now there was a small cottage several meters away from the pond. On the porch sat an elderly woman staring out over the water. It was early spring, the ice still rimming the pond. Jack barely remembered the cottage. It had been erected by a couple some forty-fifty years after he awoke on the pond and he had down everything he could to chase them away but after the man had passed away during a harsh winter, leaving his wife to fend for herself, Jack had relented and let her be. Why would Pitch bring him here?

This time Jack saw the memory as a third person. He didn't see it from Pitch's perceptive like he had the last time. He looked around, surprised when he saw his past self on the other side of the pond playing with the remaining ice and trying to frost over the pond once more, but it was too warm. Spring had come and it was time for him to move on down South or further North or go into hibernation. He saw the sadness and loneliness in his own eyes and felt an ache in his heart. If he could he would have reached out to his past self and told him everything would be okay.

Pitch moved away from him, moving towards the elderly woman standing on the porch of the cottage. That confused Jack. She looked peaceful but he could sense the fear from her just as Pitch must have. He inhaled in surprise, realizing that this Pitch was only a memory. So where was the real Pitch and why was Jack now separate from the memory Pitch?

The woman's gaze flickered from the pond to the dark spirit and that peaceful look turned frightened for a brief moment before she smiled, as if recognizing Pitch for what he was. Her gaze returned to the pond and oddly to Jack's past self.

"You've finally come back for me?" she asked, her voice soft and almost whimsical. "Took you long enough."

Pitch started in surprise. "You can see me?"

"Hard to forget when Death takes your brother. You weren't here when my husband died last winter. I was a little disappointed. I hoped we could speak," she said, a tiny smile pulling at her lips. She ran a hand through her grey hair, but her gaze never left the spirit boy across the pond.

"I'm not Death. I'm afraid the old man rarely takes his victims in person anymore," Pitch corrected, his gaze following hers. "Can you see him? The frost child?"

Her smile grew loving and full of fondness. "Ever since we built the cottage. He wasn't happy about the location we choose but I've left instructions with my children to destroy it once I pass on. Hopefully he'll be happy then."

Silence fell over them and Pitch watched her questioningly. "It's rare for a grown up to see spirits as vividly as you do. It's even rarer for one to interact with us."

She shrugged. "Jack always said I was special. I just wish it didn't take so long to see him again. Do you know him? Do you talk to him? Is he happy?"

Again the shade was silent. He looked out, watching the boy try to refreeze the ice and becoming frustrated. From time to time he would glance at the woman, as if feeling her gaze on him before shrugging it off as if he had imagined it.

Jack was torn between comforting himself and comforting the old woman. It took a moment before he realized she had said his name. He turned to her, his brow raised in question. "Emma?" he asked. That wasn't possible. She was old now, far older than he expected but despite that she was also taller than him by almost four inches.

Pitch shook his head, as if answering her question. "I cannot say," he told her, looking away from Jack's past self. "He does not appear to have any memory of what happened to him. But he is very lonely. He is an elemental now and most spirits avoid such beings. They are temperamental and uncontrollable. Being trapped as a hormonal teenager does not help."

Her eyes narrowed at the shade. "Jack wouldn't harm a soul."

"Not on purpose but as you've seen he's not in complete control of his powers. When he's angry his powers lash out and it doesn't matter if he means it or not it kills and makes a mess."

She glared at him.

"He's also pranking people to no end."

At that she grinned. "Now that's my Jack," she laughed.

Both Jacks jumped at that and stared at her in shock. The past Jack's head tilted and he gaze the old woman a curious look before shaking it off as if she were just a crazy old lady talking to herself. It was then that the present Jack realized that his past self couldn't see Pitch in the darkness. He was at a bad angle to see into the deep shadows of the cottage's porch.

"An elemental?" the woman asked Pitch with a smile. "That must be interesting. A shame he's on his own."

"Most elementals are." A sad look found its way to Pitch's face. He started in surprise when the woman's wrinkled hand clasped his and gave it a squeeze. He stared at the hand as if no one had ever touched him willingly before.

"You're lonely, too, aren't you?" she asked.

He pulled his hand free. "I choose my fate."

Her smile never faltered. "I've seen you watching over him. You've formed some sort of attachment to him even if he's an elemental."

Pitch gave a snort. "I care nothing for the boy."

"You're a poor liar," she countered.

Rolling his eyes he glanced back at the boy. "It's complicated. I'm attached to the elements more than I care to be."

"Ah…"

Silence again reigned over them. Jack moved around Pitch to stand at Emma's other side. He couldn't think of her as an old woman anymore. This was his little sister no matter how grown up she was now. He slipped his hand in hers and was surprised when she took it, as if feeling him there. How could that be possible if she was just a memory? It could be a trick. All this could have been made up by Pitch.

"Would you do me a favor?" Emma asked the shade.

Pitch gave him a dubious look, as if her asking him for anything was amusing. "And what might that be?"

She hesitated before pushing forward. "I won't be here next winter. Would you watch out for him? Try to keep him out of trouble. I asked someone else when I was little to bring him back but he couldn't, at least I didn't think he could. And even if you don't interact with Jack you can at least look out for him."

The shade snorted. "If it was only that easy." He sighed. "And why should I grant this wish?" He started once more when she pressed her lips to his cheek.

"It's a dying woman's last wish," she said softly. "And you both deserve someone to Believe in you."

He stared at her in shock, his hand going to his cheek.

Jack stared at her as well and felt tears sting the back of his eyes. He squeezed her hand tighter, knowing she couldn't really feel him but wanting so much to just fling himself in her arms. But before he could do anything he felt a sudden panic from Pitch and watched as the Boogieman stepped away from Emma.

"Pitch?" he asked in growing worry. He moved to grab the shade but suddenly found himself tumbling head over heels as the memory changed yet again. "PITCH!"