I feel like there was something important about this, but I forgot what it was…. Meh… Oh well… I'm sure I'll remember it later…

Breathing In the Snowflakes – Chapter Eleven

Jack was in the little room with the couch at the funeral home. Pitch had an arm around his shoulder and one hand held out in front of Jack. The two were measuring out how much Jack needed for his dose today. He was beginning to tremble, and the chill had already set in. If he waited too long it'd get worse.

Pitch smiled. "Look," he said, pointing out how little Jack actually needed, "That's less than half the amount you were taking when we first met," he told him. He squeezed Jack's shoulder. "You're doing so well. I'm proud of you, Jack…"

He smiled at the older man before inhaling the white powder and shivering, falling back into the cushions of the couch. Pitch held him there, allowing him time to rest, before he stood and began opening the place up, turning lights on, and such. Jack watched him from the doorway, once he actually got up… Pitch stopped at his mural on the wall, and Jack couldn't resist coming up and joining him.

"It's almost done," he said, standing beside Pitch, "Probably will only need today and it'll be finished…"

Pitch chuckled. "You don't sound too happy about that," he said, noticing the heaviness to Jack's words.

"Well, yeah I'm not happy," he grumbled, folding his arms over his chest and pouting up at the painting, "Once it's done I won't be able to spend the whole day with you… I'll be off somewhere else painting for some random person…" Pitch laughed and rubbed Jack's back softly.

"I was some random person before all of this, too, Jack," he said, smiling. Jack frowned at him. "You and I will still see each other, don't worry. I'll keep coming and bothering you at that tiny little thing you call an apartment and you'll keep pestering me here when you have free days."

Jack grinned. "You know it!" he said, looking back to the painting. He stood there, looking at the painting for a while longer, furrowing his brow as he contemplated the angel's face. She looked oddly familiar. When it hit him, he started laughing, confusing poor Pitch thoroughly. Pointing up at her, Jack said, "She looks like you."

Pitch blinked, placed his hands on his hips, and stared up at the painted woman. He frowned, squinting his eyes as he tried to see where it looked like him. "I'm not seeing it," he said. Jack laughed again and pointed.

"Her face," he said, "She has your face…!" Still Pitch scowled.

"I still don't see the resemblance," he said, Jack just laughed and said it was because he was old.

Sandy and Tia arrived a short while later, and both asked Jack if he was excited for the last day. They obviously were- they were happy to be able to say they had another finished project under their belts. Jack was too, but he was definitely going to miss having Pitch as his constant security blanket. Now if he got scared, or waited a little too long for a dose he'd have to rely only on himself.

He mentioned that to Pitch in a whisper. Pitch smiled. "It'll be good for you," he said, "You need a chance to gain back some stability of self… I'll still be here if you really need me, though." Jack smiled at him and went to work painting.

It took the rest of the day, but once it was closing time, Jack was actually very proud to say he had finished. Everyone had. And it was fantastic. Sandy's painting was of a woman at a grave, looking as though she were asleep, and a specter female is snuggled up beside her, holding her while she rests. It had a lot of sentiment and Jack smiled at how sweet it was. Tia's was a painting of a man in a tuxedo and a woman. Both were very old, and they were wearing wedding garb, but standing before a coffin. But they both looked happy and accepting, and it was touching. Jack's angel felt out of place, but she somehow fit in with their works as an odd family.

Looking at Pitch, Jack smiled and quickly hugged him. They had to head back to their boss's building, and Jack wouldn't be able to see Pitch until he went back home afterwards.

"Bye," he whispered, squeezing around his neck affectionately, "See you later." Pitch returned the farewell, and the trio left him to lock up.

No, this isn't the ending. It won't end until Jack is completely off the drugs…

You know what I just read the other night? An article about Chris Pine telling why drugs- like cocaine and such- didn't ever interest him. And when I read that I was just like, "Ooohhh, weeeellll…. I kinda…. Yeeeeaaaahhh….."

IT WAS TOO COINCIDENTALLY PERFECT TO NOT TELL YOU.