WE DON'T HAVE TO BE ALONE – CHAPTER 25
«Jack, answer me!».
Putting aside his task of improvised surgeon, Pitch grabbed his partner by the shoulders, lifting him a little and starting to shake him, and, seeing his jaw moving as to articulate a sentence, he convinced himself that life hadn't left his body yet, and he exclaimed: «Good boy, Jack, stay awake, I'll finish to medicate you!».
Panting, he laid him back on the bed, tilting his head so that his neck was neither tense, nor contracted, in order to ease him the now useless act of breathing and to make his misty pupils be turned exactly toward his own face, like a macabre attempt not to lose contact with him, and he looked down on his ripped open belly; embracing his hips with his hands, he began to work to remedy the mess by moving his palms in circular movements from the bottom up, finally successfully squeezing the mixture of blood and amniotic fluid out of his abdomen and laughing hysterically when he felt it trickling on his fingers, crestfallen by the idea he hadn't thought about such a simple solution earlier; finally, when he realized he couldn't extract any more liquid, he grabbed a needle and a catgut, and, without wasting time cleaning up, he began to close the wound, frowning for better focus.
«There, it's done!» he announced as he put the last stitch; «Now everything is alright, the baby is gone, the belly is closed and you can start to feel good again, Jack, you're fine, right? Talk, please, talk to me, tell me something, don't go, you can't, you can't leave me here alone, please...».
He went on for long, at first murmuring, then stammering, the phrases becoming more and more rambling while his gestures became more and more agitated, his voice growing cracked while his muscles gave in to the point of preventing him from continuing to rock and cuddle his lover, and, in the end, he resigned himself to admit the evidence he had desperately tried to deny: his little, beautiful snowflake was gone. His sweet smile, his infectious laugh, his irises of infinite shades of blue and turquoise, his heart which always magically managed to throb in time with the man's: all gone. The kisses at dawn, the jokes in the morning, the chattering in the afternoon, the walks at sunset, the hugs at night: all over. The trepidatious hopes, the vague promises, the solemn oaths, the touching dreams: all faded. Nothing remained, now, nothing in that frail, broken body, nothing in the Boogeyman's equally broken one, nothing in his mind, nothing in his heart, nothing, nothing, only white, blinding and nonsensical, which like a wall appeared in front of him, preventing him from reacting.
«Shostakovich, easy, easy, it's not time to throw a tantrum!» boomed North.
Pulling on the reins with all his strength, he forced the reindeer to slow down, stopping them just in time to avoid the sleigh overcoming the edge of the runway and beginning to slide down the roof, then, after having taking off the fur hat and the coat in a single gesture, he got down.
Ever since he had left his Palace, he had felt something in the air, a kind of tense expectation which went far beyond the excitement for Christmas just around the corner and which had alarmed him more than ever, so, worried about Jack and, above all, about his belly now big enough to drag him to the ground even when he sat, he had decided to hurry to complete his task and return as soon as possible. He had travelled fast, riding the faster winds he knew and not hesitating to use his snow-globes to accelerate his movements, exploiting the tooth fairies to properly arrange the presents under the trees and carrying away the cookies offered to him as a reward in order not to waste precious time, and so he had been able to cross the Atlantic Ocean eight hours earlier than usual, forcing Sandman to compel to sleep all the children in this continent so as not to be caught working, but, unfortunately, the rush soon had backfired: having fully and without notice upset his schedule, he had also automatically made himself scarce to the other Guardians, and so he had received the news about the ongoing labour only on the return flight, with a delay which, albeit short, was equally unacceptable.
«Damn, North, hurry up, it's been already twenty five minutes since when I've left Jack, he'll be exhausted now, he needs help!» urged him Bunnymund.
Dropping his reflections, Santa Claus walked toward the access trapdoor, praying that the Yeti had left it open and dragging with himself the Bringer of Dreams, and he asked: «So, where can I find Jack?».
«In the room where you had piled up all the gifts already wrapped, just down here, hold on, I'll take you there» excitedly replied the Pooka.
Without even giving him time to realize what the proposal entailed, he tapped his foot on the ground, opening a large hole and jumping in it, and the master of the house, unable to do otherwise, fell and tumbled on him.
«Sorry, I didn't want to fall on you, are you all right? Sure you could have given me a little advance notice!» he exclaimed, struggling to stand up.
«North, for the last time: hurry up and go help Jack!» muttered the Easter Bunny, pressing a paw on his butt to urge him.
Certain that, given his polemical attitude, the friend was fine, North resolved himself to obey, limping toward the door and opening it with a slap, and he was about to enter and announce himself, but as soon as he looked in he lost a beat and froze, shocked: he wasn't ready in the least to witness such a scene.
In front of him there were Pitch and Jack, both still, both partially bathed by the moonlight, and both in appalling conditions: the first, standing with his head slightly bowed, was staring at his partner, his hands and outstretched forearms dirty with blood and his irises so dull he seemed about to faint; the latter, instead, laid sprawled on the improvised operating table, his limbs limp and his belly, no longer swollen, torn by an irregular cut shoddily closed with a catgut. It didn't take long to Santa to understand what had happened, the gruesome mass of organs and tissues scattered at the couple's feet striking demonstration of how difficult the childbirth had been, and their complete lack of vitality unmistakable sign of the resulting epilogue, and he failed to understand how the situation could have degenerated to that point, and that the rebellious boy who had tormented him so much, but who, actually, he had always loved, and who, regardless of the adversity he faced, had always been able to bring joy and laughter to the others, had passed away forever, but in the end, levering on his own sense of respect, he managed to recover and react, and he began to move backwards.
«North, what are you doing!? The tools are already in there, you don't need to take them from the infirmary, hurry up and go in!» exclaimed Bunnymund.
After silently closing the door, the master of the house turned and, casting his friends a distraught look, he murmured: «Tools are already in there, but they're no longer needed».
Sandman, who had been greatly worn out by the long and laborious night, during which he had used up his powers, didn't seem to grasp the recondite meaning of the answer, and only nodded absently, continuing to shape the magic globe of sand he had evoked in place of the anaesthetic; the Pooka, instead, although initially confused, didn't take long to jump to conclusions, and, at that point, in a broken voice, he shouted: «No, no, it can't be, no! Move away, I want to see him!».
«Stop!» cried North, tackling him and dragging him away; «You cannot get in in this way, screaming or doing scenes would only worsen things: we have to remain lucid, in respect for Jack, and in respect for Pitch, who's keeping vigil. I know it's hard, I know it sounds ungrateful, but, for now, we should forget about Jack, because we can't do anything for him, and think about who is left, so let's be strong and hurry up. Childbirth had taken place, but Toothiana and the child are not here: we have to find them, to make sure they're okay and that she'll come back here to talk to Pitch, because she's the only one who could shake and comfort him. Let's get moving, and don't you dare to enter the room: Pitch still needs to stay alone».
And, with the Easter Bunny in his arms and a heavy heart, he walked down the corridor.
Pitch couldn't say how much time elapsed, if a second, a day or a whole century, but, at some point, the process reversed: the white wall which had wrapped him so tightly to prevent him from breathing began to crack, at first slowly, then faster and faster, returning in a heartbeat back to the nothingness from which it was born and leaving a vacuum behind itself, and, hence, all that it had managed to keep outside poured out into it, taking over.
First, more crashing than a hammer blow, came the pain: pain for the dead present, because Frost's soul hadn't been the only one to slip into a place from which it would have never come back, pain for the blurred past, because the man's brain had never been able to keep for long memories he couldn't revive, nor the positive sensations he couldn't feel, and he was aware that that wonderful adventure would have soon faded in incomprehensible flashes of memory and splinters of darkness, pain for the vanished future, because no tomorrow would have ever arisen without a wonderful sun ready to light it, pain, pain in its purest form, which promised to permeate Pitch's existence for centuries to come, making it even more vacuous and pointless than it already was. Then, heavy as a boulder, came the guilt: it fell from above, without notice, dragging the Boogeyman on the bottom of his conscience and suffocating him with its tentacles, incessantly repeating how incompetent he had been as it tried to drown him, endlessly showing him the scenes of his failure while it ground his skull, maliciously whispering him that, indeed, he should have expected such an epilogue, considering how often he had proven to be good just to destroy, and for a few minutes the man could do nothing but gasping, desperately struggling in the depths of his psyche and almost risking to be overwhelmed. Then, however, burning like the hell flames, came the anger: it germinated slowly in his chest, almost imperceptible, but it took little to flare up, lifting his spirit to the heights of his aggressiveness, wrapping his soul in a perpetual fire while it shouted how unfair this loss had been, stoking his rage with an overwhelming violence while it blinded him with flashes of his partner's last spasms of life, whipping him up against the tyrannical misfortune which, indeed, seemed to haunt him with sadistic punctuality, considering how often it had scourged him, and for a few minutes Pitch could do nothing but wheezing, shivering visibly and threatening to explode at any moment. Finally, more devious than a disease, came the hatred: hatred for the tarnished present, because it all had been no accident, hatred for the manipulated past, because too many times similar misfortunes had occurred, albeit not so severe, and the Boogeyman was increasingly sure that behind them there had always been a cynical puppet master, hatred for the stolen future, because it was now clear that someone had voluntarily taken it away from him, hate, hate in its purest form, which permeated him instantly, making him even more unstable and deadly than he already was.
After blinking to focus his lover's devastated corpse, the man licked his own lips, baring his teeth in an insane smile, and, raising his face to the sky, he murmured: «So, what do you say? Did you like the play?».
The Moon, which, in the meantime, had kept moving, heedlessly slipped out of his sight, deaf to every call and mute to every request, and this, for the Boogeyman, was the last affront.
«Did you like the play, eh!?» he shouted, kneeing the table to push it back under the satellite light cone; «Did you have fun watching, pulling the strings of this wonderful comedy? Did you have fun? You, brat, vile bastard, I know you've been spying on us, I know you manipulated everything around us to make us suffer! It stuck in your throat, right? You couldn't stand the fact we were happy together, you couldn't stand the fact I was happy, me, the enemy you hate to the point you can't leave them in peace even during a truce! What did I do to deserve this? What? I can't know, I don't remember anything about my past, and I bet you're the only one accountable for this amnesia, but, even if I committed terrible crimes, Jack never did the same! He has always been good and generous, he has always taken care of all the children he met, even if they couldn't see him, he took care of the Guardians when they got weakened and fought me every time I crossed the line, he did everything a good Spirit should do, and you, after centuries spent neatly ignoring him, have repaid him with this! You've tortured him to torture me, and then, when you realized you had failed, because, despite everything, we've managed to support each other, you killed him, beast, you killed him, and only out of disgusting envy! Do you feel satisfied now? Are you happy with your revenge? Hurry up to enjoy it, because I won't wait to take mine! I'm coming, you bastard!».
Giving heed to the last glimmer of lucidity left, he stepped back, making sure to move far enough from the partner's body to avoid the risk of further tear it, then, finally lost control, let out a savage yell and got ready to muster his powers. First, in a sort of warm-up which, actually, was simply the chaotic result of the immense anger he felt, he moved his hands in agitated gestures, evoking all the black sand he could and attempting to shape it; then, realizing he had successfully accomplished the first goal, but miserably failed the second, he snarled and threw himself on the floor, gathering up the sand with his fingers and trying to manually compress it; finally, after giving up in order not to prolong the pathetic show he was offering and having almost gone beyond the verge of despair, he had an idea: there was another way for him to triumph in that day of complete impotence, a way which he had never dared to use in his life, given how many dangers and sacrifices it entailed, but which now could be the time to exploit.
It took little to him to solve the dilemma, the thirst for revenge which animated him too great to be contained by good sense, and the fear of dying in the deed, or, even worse, of getting lost forever, absent, because, indeed, he was already lost, and he saw death as a desirable release, so, without hesitation and without regret, he acted: staring at his lover's belly to better remember the sufferance he had underwent, he concentrated to visualize in the clearest way the details of the bloody revenge he had planned, then, opening his arms, he lowered every defences to let himself be possessed.
It all began with a faint rustle, almost imperceptible, which softly wrapped his consciousness and courted his eardrums, almost compassionate in its comforting hum inviting him to let himself go; then, the noise grew, gurgling in his mind and in the air around him, deafening him and isolating him from the outside world to the point it even absorbed the light around him; finally, slowly turning into silence, it retired into his chest and began to trickle from it in thick and sticky tentacles. It seemed absurd, and yet it was true, it had been the sound itself to condense and give life to matter, and it still resisted in it, making it vibrate and thrash increasingly strongly as it grew, until the substance didn't begin to take concrete shapes, little detailed, but well distinct: bulbous skulls, anorexic bodies, clawed hands, orbits with no eyes, hungry mouths, the Fear made being, the atavic Terror as old as Behemuth, but less irrational, more sly and conscious, Pitch's darkest soul which permeated his organs and muscles since immemorial times, which had always weaved to prevail on him and which only Frost had been able to drive away from his heart.
Firm in his decision, the Boogeyman relaxed, falling on his knees to better immerse himself in that creature ready to devour him and picking up its heavier parts to help it climbing up along his chest, and, perhaps for determination, perhaps for tragic sentimentalism, he allowed himself a last voluntary gesture, and he looked up at the Moon, silently saying goodbye to the world in which he lived, and which now he no longer recognized, and making sure that it appeared as a clear objective to destroy to the Fearlings old as the universe he had released, but, in that moment, it happened exactly what for weeks he had hoped, and never happened: the Man in the Moon reacted.
Without troubling himself to leave his satellite, the Guardian of the Guardians sent dozens of moonbeams, hurling them with pinpoint accuracy on the horrid newborn beasts and thus making them burst like bubbles of tar, and the man, laughing, shouted: «It's pointless trying to fight them, you fool, these creatures are ancient and powerful, and they won't be stopped by some pathetic rays of light! Prepare yourself, the end of your life has just begun!».
Annoyed by that silly mishap, he withdrew, escaping the attack in the simplest way it could exist and taking refuge in the comforting shadows of the room, and, envisaging that the enemy would have chased him, he looked around to find a well sheltered corner from which he could have defended himself; he sought for long, probing every area while the small Fearlings withered and slid to the ground, and he cursed himself for having chosen a room so bare to do the caesarean section, but eventually he realized that his skin, now almost entirely exposed on chest, face and hands, wasn't burning, and, with a sense of foreboding in his heart, he turned.
No flash blinded him, no flare attempted to blister him, because, as he expected, the offensive had diverted and, condensing into a single beam of light, turned to Jack's corpse, and Pitch, terrified of losing, after his kind soul, even his body, shouted: «No, don't do it, don't you dare to take him away!».
Angry and frightened as ever, he lunged forward, determined to tear his lover's remains from his hideous enemy's clutches, but, in his haste, he stumbled in his own feet, collapsing on the last three deformed creatures survived and getting trapped by them, and, at that point, he could do nothing but helplessly watch the scene: gasping, he noticed the light becoming thicker and denser, being filled up with millions of tiny, brilliant particles and depositing as sand on the partner's corpse; trembling, he saw him slowly rising from the table, ascending nearly a meter and lighting up from the inside, while his head and limbs lifelessly dangled; finally, now so confused and scared he couldn't even breathe, he looked the process reversing, the body slowly returning to lie down on the table and the moonbeams, after gathering for a few seconds on his belly, dissolving.
Unable to give an explanation to that senseless and apparently useless event, the Boogeyman stood motionless, oblivious to the enemy, to the beasts who had attacked him and even to himself, but, to remedy this lack, intervened the boy, who, defying every law of nature, moved. Actually, at least at first, he didn't do much apart from resuming breathing, stretching and blinking, activities anyway surprising for a person who, until just a few seconds before, was clearly dead, but, as if this wasn't enough, he took only half a minute to fully recover and sit up, and, after turning his face, screaming: «Pitch, watch out!».
Now completely worn out, the man couldn't resist and fainted, and he only managed to hear steps and muffled thuds, moaning and shuddering as he wondered if he was still awake, or already prey of the ancient Fearlings he had evoked, but shortly after two arms definitely real lifted him up, forcing him to his knees, and a firm voice, not echoing at all, asked him: «Pitch, are you okay!? I got so scared when I saw you on the floor, you can't even imagine, and then those ugly creatures! What were they? They almost looked like Behemuth's beasts, what were they doing here?».
With great effort, Pitch finally raised his eyes, and, squinting them, he let out a sob: in front of him stood out two magnificent irises, pure sapphires flecked with cobalt and aquamarine, two irises he had given up for lost and which, instead, against all odds, had returned to comfort him, and made him feel loved as ever.
«Pitch» insisted Frost, visibly worried; «Pitch, please, do you hear me? Can you answer me? I need to know what happened, I'm worried about you, those creatures were eating your back and, although it doesn't seem they wounded you, I saw that your hands are covered in blood, I want to know where it comes from and to medicate you, you have to...».
«My blood is not red» he managed to whisper the Boogeyman, still dazed, keeping staring at him.
Instantly, the boy gasped, taken aback by this revelation and clearly in difficulty in dealing with it; then, probably in search of clues to find an explanation for this absurd situation, he made his eyes wander around the room, pausing on the blankets soaked in amniotic fluid, on the bloody organs abandoned on the ground and finally on his own flat stomach, and, in a trembling voice, he demanded: «Pitch, did... did you do the caesarean to me?».
«Yes» confessed the man, stammering.
Touching his face, Jack continued: «And while you were doing it, I died?».
Trembling, Pitch parted his lips, tears in his eyes as he struggled with all his might to hold them back and answer, but in the end, overwhelmed, he gave up and just nodded.
«Oh, Pitch!» exclaimed the boy, throwing his arms around his neck; «I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I didn't want it to happen, I would have given my powers just to spare you the pain, but I couldn't stay awake, I was so tired, so terribly tired... Cry, Pitch, feel free to cry, vent and don't feel embarrassed, now I'm back here with you and will never leave you again».
«The Boogeyman never cries» spluttered in a faint tone the man.
Then, unable to control himself longer, he burst into tears. He didn't feel ashamed of himself, too exhausted to care about something as futile as decorum, he didn't get embarrassed by the other's presence, grateful to be allowed to take refuge against his neck, and he didn't even worry about any stranger' possible interference: simply tired of keeping within himself all the emotions he felt, he let them out, sobbing loudly while his partner reassured him, trembling under his soft hands busy holding him and cuddling him and shedding every tear he felt the need to.
After a few minutes, feeling his own body emptied and his mind now calm, he raised his head, moaning at the throbbing pain which had obviously assailed him, and, still too moved to speak, he just stared at his lover with a hint of smile; Frost, for his part, looked at him in turn, returning the touched gaze and caressing his cheek, and, in a gentle tone, he said: «I love you too, Pitch».
Slightly uncomfortable for that point-blank statement, Pitch countered: «I haven't uttered a word».
Wearily shaking his head, as if amused by the protest, the boy replied: «I heard you anyway».
Sweet and loving as always, he took his face in his hands and began to kiss him, sparing him the task of responding and gently wiping his cheeks, and, between an endearment and the other, he whispered: «Come on, Pitch, hold me».
«But my hands are covered in blood and amniotic fluid, I would just end up dirtying you» clumsily objected the Boogeyman.
«As if dirt scares me» commented Jack; «I want a decent hug and a kiss, and I want them now».
Without giving him time to counter, he sat in his lap and snuggled against him, pulling his nape hair to make him expose himself and pressing his lips on his, and the man, at that contact, couldn't resist: letting out an almost suffering sigh, he drew his lover towards himself, hugging him until he nearly cut off his breath, lifting him from his own thighs to experience the pleasure of holding him, caressing his flesh with his palms to reclaim him, and, almost melting, he parted his lips, biting his partner's silky ones to force him opening them and sliding his tongue between them, but then just discreetly stroking his palate, without deepening the kiss too much, because what he wanted to convey wasn't passion, but the joy he felt in having found him again, and he had no intention to overwhelm him.
After just ten seconds, aware that the other hadn't fully recovered from the childbirth, he pulled away from him, giving him one last little kiss on the forehead and rubbing his back, and while the boy caught his breath, he stated: «Now there's a nice bath waiting for you».
Snorting, the boy replied: «What a bore, I hoped there was something different and nicer waiting for... the others are waiting for us!».
Taken aback by that statement, Pitch asked: «"The others" who?».
«But what "who?", the Guardians, of course! We must tell them that, in the end, everything went well and that I'm still alive!» excitedly bursted Frost.
Shaking his head, the Boogeyman explained: «Don't worry, Jack: Bunnymund hasn't returned yet, and North and Sandman are still out, too; the only one here at the Palace is Toothiana, but when she left she was far too busy to notice you were dead. Hush, no one saw you, there's no need to rush».
«I assure you they saw me» insisted the boy, looking around as if in search of something; «Less than ten minutes ago North tried to get in here, but when he realized I was dead he gave up and left. Don't ask me how I managed to see this, because I don't know, maybe I stayed here all the time, whatever the explanation is I bet North told all the others I had died and made them worry, so, please, let's hurry, I don't want them to suffer when it's all right».
Without waiting for an assent, he leaped away, ridiculously swaying his bare butt as he crawled toward a washbasin full of water nearby and shivering when we dived in, then, after stirring a little, he turned and demanded: «Can you help me washing my back?».
Amused by his childish attitude, but glad to see him so active, the man conceded: «Yes, yes, I'm coming».
Without further delay, he got up, limping towards his lover and kneeling again to assist him; then, grabbing a sponge and a bar of soap, he began to wash him, gently massaging his skin in order not to chafe it and taking the opportunity to clean up his own hands and wrists; finally, after thoroughly rinsing it, he helped him getting out of the basin, and handed him a clean towel.
«Where are my clothes?» asked Jack, thoughtfully sweeping the room while he brushed himself.
«The last time I saw them they were on the infirmary cupboard, and I guess they're still there. Don't worry, I'll go and retrieve them soon, but for now I'd like to take you out of here, so I'll wrap you in a clean towel» explained Pitch.
Received the partner's approval, he walked to the towel basket and retrieved the wider cloth he could find, then he helped him to wear it, wrapping it twice around his waist and one a little under his armpits; then, after settling it and draping the exceeding flap on his shoulder, he bent down to pick up the boy, and Frost jokingly commented: «I'm not a girl, Pitch».
Casting him a sweet look, the Boogeyman whispered: «Be my girl one last time».
Blushing and giggling, Frost was about to withdraw, clearly amused by the request and probably also a bit embarrassed, however, perhaps jokingly deciding to play along with him, perhaps understanding the other's concern, he took little to change his mind and nod; the man, for his part, made sure to be as convincing as possible without forcing him, anxious to take care of him not only properly, but also making him feel at ease, and he internally rejoiced when he saw him meekly closing his arms to get caught, not wasting a second to take the opportunity to grab him.
After picking him up, he walked toward the door, thinking about how to open it without slamming it against his sweet bundle, but, just when he was a few steps away from the wood, this parted by itself, and North appeared behind it.
«Oh, Pitch» weakly murmured the newcomer.
With tears in his eyes and trembling lips, he stepped forward, getting ready to discreetly offer him his help, but at that moment the boy raised his head and exclaimed: «Hi, North!».
Jumping back in fright, Santa Claus cried: «Jack! But then you're alive!».
Almost instantly a rustling and hasty thuds were heard, and Bunnymund appeared, running over the master of the house and blurting out: «But then he's alive! North, you're an idiot, how couldn't you notice it!?».
«No, no, Bunnymund» intervened Jack in a gentle voice; «Do not blame North, he wasn't wrong: when he entered the room I was really dead, and there was nothing you could do. Only a few minutes after, I got back».
«Got back?» demanded the Pooka, dumbfounded, making room for Sandman; «What does that mean?».
«It means that, in the end, the Man in the Moon deigned to intervene and save him. Oh, come on, cut it out! Jack is still tired and worn, he needs rest, not to be stifled by your enthusiasm! Get out of the way, I'll bring him in our room!» barked Pitch.
Annoyed by the excessive expansiveness of the Guardians, who had now completely surrounded the boy and started to cover him with compliments and cuddles, he advanced, rudely pushing them away and heading towards his own room; realizing they were following him, he sped up his pace, focusing on the way to hold back himself from blurting out, and, after coming within sight of the sought goal, he announced: «Well, we arrived, and it's time for all of us to go to sleep: good night!».
«Don't be ridiculous, it's barely noon!» protested the Easter Bunny.
Straightening his back to look as much authoritative as possible, the Boogeyman turned and countered: «Less than half an hour ago Jack underwent a caesarean section, died and then raised again, it's definitely time to sleep for him, even if it's barely noon!».
«Pitch» murmured Frost, pulling him by the sleeve; «I promise that, later, I'll sleep, but first I'd like to see the baby. I don't think I'll ever be able to take care of them, but I'd do them no harm if I just looked at them, and I want to do it so much».
Taken aback, the man hesitated, unprepared for such a request and, actually, not very inclined to satisfy it, but North anticipated him, saying: «Of course, Jack, we would never forbid you to see them, indeed, Toothiana is already bringing them here. In the meantime get in the bed».
Not daring to protest, Pitch resigned himself to nod and please the partner, and, faking nonchalance, he prepared him to the meeting: first, after laying him down on the mattress, he helped him getting rid of the big towel in which he had wrapped him and sliding under the covers; then, handing him one by one the pillows placed in the chest, he suggested him to stack them against the headboard and rest his back on them; finally, after closing the curtains to make the room fall in the dim light of the fire, he moved the desk chair next to the bed and sat down, watching his lover while the Guardians settled in a row on the other side.
Fortunately, they didn't have to wait for long: after just a minute a low hum came from the hallway, growing more and more, and eventually Toothiana peeped out into the room, carrying a bundle and whispering: «Hi, Jack. You can't imagine how happy I am to see you awake: I feared the worst when the amniotic sac got broken, and I left you with the terror not to find you on my return».
Nervously clasping his hands, the boy replied: «That was close, but in the end, fortunately, it didn't happen, and I'm well again. May... may I see the baby?».
«Of course, Jack» readily conceded the fairy; «I brought her here for this. It's a girl, you know? Come on, open your arms, a little more, yes, now hold her, cradle her a bit: she'll surely be so happy to meet you».
Excited as ever, Jack shuddered, at first clearly tempted to refuse, then giving in to curiosity and stretching out his arms, tentatively accepting that sort of little bale of blankets and towels from which only a tiny, frowning face managed to emerge, settling it against his own chest and beginning to clumsily rock it while staring at it.
«Well, Jack, what do you think?» asked the woman, so moved she had tears in her eyes.
«She's...» started the boy, raising a smile while the Big Four leaned toward him, their irises full of expectation.
«... She's really ugly» he finally completed.
Suddenly, the warm and hushed atmosphere of the room froze, falling into a tense and unnatural silence in which no one felt really at ease, neither sure about what to do, so everyone merely reacted in the way it suited them most: Bunnymund, emotional as ever, let his jaw and ears drop in a shocked expression and began to withdraw; Sandy, who, until that moment, had feasted his eyes on the joy of the first meeting and had already shaped a dozen small hearts of sand over his head, let these break in half and brought his hands to his mouth, as if to hold back a scream; Toothiana and North, slightly more demure, simply exchanged embarrassed glances, while their smiles died on their lips; finally, Pitch, the only one who hadn't been stunned by the unexpected statement, laughed and commented: «Oh, Jack, only you could have literally died to give birth to a child, pick them up and comment: "Oh, well, actually they look so ugly!"!».
«But no, what did you understand?» hastened to clarify Frost; «I wasn't talking about her appearance, whatever aspect she'll have, she will always look beautiful to me, I'm just worried about her health! Haven't you seen her skin? It's so thin, and it's all patchy, white, red, purple, even yellow, and then her head has something wrong, too, it seems soft to me, what if she's sick? I knew it, damn it, I knew I wasn't suitable for growing her, I didn't have enough space in my belly, and then...».
«Oh, Jack, for all the teeth!» interrupted him the fairy, letting herself go on the mattress; «Why haven't you been clear since the beginning? You made our hearts skip a beat! If the problems are only these, you shouldn't worry: it's all right. Yes, her head is soft, and that's because babies' skull bones are not welded together yet, but in a couple of months you'll notice a significant consolidation, and, within one or two years, everything will be perfectly closed. As for the colour of her skin, instead, well, yellow is simply jaundice, while red and purple are due to the childbirth: the baby has lived for months in your belly, well protected and curled up in the warmth, and she has never known other worlds apart from that, don't you think it was almost a trauma, for her, being torn by force from her nest and brought here, in the open and in the cold?».
«Indeed» murmured the boy, settling the flap which covered the newborn's head; «What's jaundice?».
«It's the yellowish colouring you've noticed» explained the woman; «It's quite common in infants, and it may have many causes, some serious, others less worrisome. I don't know what caused hers, I'm sorry, but I'd like to reassure you: despite the birth occurred just half an hour ago, it's already disappearing. At first it was really intense and I got scared, so much that I immediately rushed to the infirmary to prepare a mild infusion of Himalayan absinthe, but now it seems clear that there's nothing to fear about».
During this cross talk, the Boogeyman kept silent, motionless, intently listening to the conversation in which he felt more and more out of place, and stealing a glance at the guests who were turning out increasingly annoying to him, and in the end, noticing his lover's arms were trembling and his eyelids kept closing up, he took the opportunity and declared: «As you can see, Jack is so tired he can't even keep his eyes open, therefore he needs peace and tranquillity to rest. I'll take care to put away the pillows and make the bed, you can go».
Without waiting to receive their consent, he stood up and began to neatly store in the chest the pillows placed against the headboard, internally rejoicing in seeing North, Sandman and Bunnymund saying goodbye affectionately, but quickly, and getting out, but a woman's voice disturbed him, asking: «Pitch, would you like to put the baby to bed? North has already brought here the cradle».
Embarrassed by the suggestion and noticing only in that moment the presence of the new bed, the man sharply replied: «No, the cradle is on your side of the bed, do it by yourself, I need to finish storing the pillows».
Keeping his eyes focused on the trunk, he continued his work, making sure to take as long as possible in order not to accidentally meet other's fuchsia irises, and he almost exulted when he realized that the interlocutor had not only make no protests, but even hurried to obey and leave, respectfully closing the door behind herself; at last, however, he managed to hold back himself, and, displaying an exasperated expression, he snapped: «Alone at last!».
Chuckling, Jack commented: «You are the usual grumpy man! Sooner or later you'll have to thank Toothiana for all she did for us, you know?».
«Okay, I'll do it later» replied Pitch.
In a single, catlike leap he straightened his back, tore off his robe and slid under the sheets, pressing his body against the partner's one and starting to tickle him to steal him a few laughs, but soon fear and emotion took over again, and, barely holding back the chills, he began to court him, kissing his cheeks, mouth, chin, neck, repeatedly caressing that hyaline and fresh skin which had threatened to become cold forever, hugging and cuddling on and on that bony chest which had been about to disappear, laying between those long and tapered legs he adored to feel himself being embraced in turn, and going further down to pamper that belly deformed for too long and, finally, flat as it used to be, and as it should have always been.
«Did you miss me?» moaned the boy, arching to meet his lips.
Letting out a heavy sigh, the Boogeyman pressed his forehead against his stomach and answered: «Dreadfully».
Reaching out a hand to caress his hair, Frost kindly demanded: «Are you still scared?».
Embarrassed by the question, the man hesitated and thought about withdrawing and ending the conversation, but in the end, knowing that denying his feelings to the partner was pointless and harmful, he admitted: «Yes, a little. Operating you hasn't been easy at all, and losing you even less, but now that you're back, I'm recovering. Half an hour ago, however, I hit rock bottom: I felt my Nightmares rising up against me and struggling to come and take me, and I know that, if they didn't succeed, it's only because on this day the Guardians magic is too strong and dries their power. I've been weak, and I'm ashamed of this».
«You haven't been weak, Pitch» countered the boy; «You've been only human, and don't try to protest saying you're the Boogeyman, because you've showed countless times you have feelings, and because you'd contradict yourself: your name itself contains the word "man". Moving on, I think that the Man in the Moon chose this day for the childbirth purposely to ease up on you, you know?».
Growling in hearing his enemy's name, Pitch barked: «To ease on me, you say? And what, for pity's sake, would have been easy today? If he really wanted to do me a favour, that maggot should have troubled himself to make you give birth without pain and complications, not forcing you to go into labour months early and without notice, making me cut you in two and then letting you die in front of me!».
«But in the end he saved me, didn't he?» pointed out Jack; «And that's what matters. I know by myself that seeing him intervening only at the end hadn't been great, I remember well how much I suffered both for the labour and the cut, but this doesn't necessarily mean he has kept aside with ill intent. Maybe he needed to get ready to use his magic, or maybe... what's that?».
Dumbfounded, the Boogeyman followed his lover's gaze up to his navel, and, realizing he was talking about the thin, silvery lines which had appeared around it, he explained: «It's a kind of decoration, or tattoo, shaped of stylized snowflake. The lines which draws it, now, are thin and almost transparent, but as long as we've been in the childbirth room they were thicker and silvery, so I don't know if they're destined to fade away or to last forever and shine only under the moonlight. In my opinion, it's the latter, considering your superior's bad habit of ruining you».
Rolling his eyes, the boy replied: «Oh, come on, do not exaggerate, this pattern is really cute!».
Raising on his elbows to glare at his partner, the man began: «Why should I care about the pattern, the point here is that...».
Suddenly, a faint cry interrupted him, barely emerging from the blankets overflowing from the cradle, and Frost, instantly, raised his head and hissed: «Did you hear? Do you think she needs something?».
Startled by the sound and by his lover prompt reaction, Pitch stiffened, abruptly turning towards the newborn creature he hadn't had neither the opportunity, nor the courage, to face yet, therefore, recognising that, in order to postpone the encounter, was preferable interrupting the discussion, he declared: «No, they're fine, they're sleeping, probably dreaming, and you know who else should be dreaming? Jack Frost here, who will now behave like a good puerperant and start to sleep».
In order to stifle any protest, he crawled up to his face and stole him a long kiss, during which he managed without hindrance to make him lie down on his side, his back on the child, and wrap him in a warm embrace, then, bending over his ear, he whispered: «Sweet dreams, Jack».
And, scattering a few grains of magic sand on both of them, he fell asleep.
Waking with a start, Nightlight sat up, threatening to tumble on the ground, considering how hastily he had moved, then, blinking, he looked around.
He couldn't say what time it was, since the Man in the Moon's room was perpetually bathed in the moonbeams soft light, nor how he himself, who was able to withstand for years without giving rest, could have dozed off there, on the backless couch on which the master of the house used to lie to ponder, armed to the hilt and still clutching his spear in his hand, but he was sure about one thing: something, in the Palace, was wrong.
Running his right palm over his face to dispel the last shreds of sleep, the warrior jumped up and headed for the exit; striding, he took the hallway, then a broadwalk, following his instinct and going as fast as he could through the maze of bridges and platforms which were the heart of the imposing building; finally, almost running, he flung himself into the tower where Cinnaminson rested and looked onto the entrance, and, instantly, he froze: the Dark Guardian had arrived.
After centuries of angry wait, they had finally managed to break the ban, Reaper no longer Grim, Lady no longer Lone, violating the bright rooms with their own gloomy presence in search of the soul they've been courting for a lifetime, and they were already bent over her, their scythe aimed at her heart, their hand reaching out to her head, ready to claim her. Nightlight didn't reflect, nor hesitated, letting out a battle cry and leaning back his left arm to hurl his weapon, but it was too late, and he was aware of this, and so, despite his determination, he failed: suddenly struck by the pain of the ancient touch, he lost his grip on the rod, finding himself weak and helpless in front of the Hooded with no eyes who saw everything, but whose gaze the warrior had once met, and, at that point, he could do nothing but watching them bending over, stealing a kiss with the lips they didn't have from the woman they had so long desired and vanishing in a capful of wind, leaving everything as they had found it, and yet completely changed.
Shivering, the boy slumped against the jamb, his eyes filled with tears and his good hand pressed on his mouth to hold back a scream, and he couldn't understand how the Not-Being had managed to evade the defences erected with the fusion of science and magic; upon closer examination, however, he realized that his beloved Lady was no longer wrapped in the bundles of tubes and pipes, stripped of every medicament and completely taken off the machines, and he began to fear that Death had played dirty, but before he could advance to check, a well-known voice told him: «Come forward, Nightlight: pay homage to your Lady».
Dumbfounded, the warrior turned toward the Man in the Moon, glimpsing him for the first time in the shade of an instrument full of triggers and buttons, and he started: «My lord, your beloved sister has been taken off the machines, I...».
«I know» interrupted him the Guardian of the Guardians; «I myself took her off the machines».
Widening his eyes, Nightlight exclaimed: «You!? And why?».
«Because Death doesn't stop in front of anyone, and doesn't bestow favours for nothing. You should now know it well» replied the master of the house.
Still confused, but not slow-witted, the warrior dared: «His life for Jack Frost's one, am I wrong? The child couldn't have had problems. Why didn't you just helped him during childbirth?».
«Not every change can be reversed to be what it was before» answered the Man In The Moon;
«The mutations I subjected Jack Frost's body to were too deep and too entrenched to be erased. I could have tried to correct them, praying the time would have healed them, but I knew that, for better or worse, he would have remained irreparably damaged, and continued to suffer, and I couldn't allow that. After all, a spirit who aches and yearn cannot be a good Guardian of Fun, and, in these days, we cannot afford to have one unable to fulfil his own duties».
Hearing also the unuttered words, the boy sighed and whispered: «I didn't expect this, my lord: you've been guarding your sister ever since I can remember now».
«And even since before» added the Guardian of Guardians; «But now it was time for the changing of the guard: it's her turn to be free and guard, while we'll remain here, bounded to our duties, under her watchful eye».
Shivering a little under the myriad of memories and emotions which crowded his mind, Nightlight straightened his back, standing proud and composed beside the creature who, together with friends now disappeared, he had always protected, and intently staring at her; after a few minutes, however, he gave in, and asked: «My lord, may I join you?».
«Yes, Nightlight» allowed him the master of the house.
Advancing in discreet, little steps, the warrior walked around the bed and approached his beloved mentor, respectfully stopping at his side, and when he turned to look at him he saw that his face was streaked with tears.
Stunned? Happy? Moved? Let me know how you felt! This chapter was really important for the whole story, especially the last part, so make sure not to miss any detail, because I'll develop all of them later :). Next chapter will be published on Friday 24th
A little note: I almost reached the last Italian chapter I published, so, from now on, I'll keep pace with the original fanfiction and update this translation every two or three weeks. You know, I obviously need to write it before I can translate :). I wish you a nice evening, and I hope you'll share with me your opinion about this chapter!