A/N: Hey everyone! Chapter's a little late but not by much. Last chapter this story passed three hundred reviews, which is really awesome! Thank you guys so much for taking the time to leave me your thoughts, I always love to see them. ForeverACharmedOne, you were number 300! And number 200, as well, I think. Thanks again, I always love reading your reviews! I talked to you about it some already. I don't know how mad Manny or Apollo are about Jack yet, but for now some changes had to be made due to circumstance, hence him being basically fired as Rowan's guard. CharmedBooklett, Rowan doesn't have amnesia, she's just... very puzzled, lol. Hopefully this chapter sheds more light on that. Thanks for your review! MrsGooglyBear, I almost put that last scene at the beginning of this chapter but I think it worked out better this way. Thanks for your review! XxKeyOfHeartxX, Reading fanfic while in class is never a good idea (not that it ever stopped me)! It's nice to see the emotional impact this has had on you, haha, thank you for the review. Tanairy Cornelio, thanks so much! I'm so glad people are still enjoying this so many chapters later.
"Pitch was the obvious suspect, then he said it was probably Cupid and Tsar Lunar and Apollo don't think it's either of them."
"So it must be me?"
Chapter Fifty-One: Cross Out The Eyes
Jack's head was unsteadily propped between the plush of the armchair and his hand, sliding to the side ever so slowly until there was no more armchair to keep it upright. His chin then slipped from his hand and he jolted upright, opening his eyes at once, startled.
The room was still the same. It was still dimly lit, the open curtains only letting in darkness. The bottom edge of the door allowed a strip of brighter light in from the rest of the pole. The fire was still burning strong.
Rowan was still sleeping, Sandy's dream sand still hard at work with her.
Squinting at the clock on the mantle, Jack found that at least two hours had passed since the last time he had woken up. It was the longest he'd managed to stay asleep yet, usually averaging about half an hour of sleep at a time if he was lucky.
He considered the small pouch of dream sand that Sandy had given each of them for Christmas, guaranteed to provide a dreamless sleep. Perhaps now would be a good time to make use of it. But his was all the way back in Pennsylvania, in his sad excuse for a cabin.
Jack rubbed his eyes before his gaze fell to Rowan again. She had remained in deep sleep ever since Sandy knocked her out, not even shifting in position since he'd entered the room. Jack frowned; she wasn't usually a restless sleeper but the fact that she hadn't even moved a little set him on edge.
The spirit braced himself against the chair, slowly rising to his feet. Gripping his staff tightly, ready to use it to stay balanced, Jack took a step forward. Deep breath, second step. His knees were steady, if sore. His staff stayed by his side, so far not needing to take its place as stand-in cane. His grip on it relaxed.
He counted steps, across the room first, then around the walls, fingertips grazing the wallpaper, ready to brace himself if necessary. It hurt to move, but not nearly as much as it had the previous night. He was simply grateful that movement didn't take as much effort and concentration now.
Jack didn't exactly feel rested, but it seemed that spending a few hours trying to relax in the armchair had actually helped. He cleared his dry throat, stopping his careful pacing near the bed where he'd started, peering at Rowan's face again.
He was beginning to wonder why he continued to check on her so frequently. He had been in that armchair by the bed for hours without so much of a twitch of her fingers to report. The only indications that the girl was still alive were the steady, almost calculated breaths that kept her chest rising and falling.
Jack reached toward the strand of hair that still lay across her face and stopped short again. The vivid image of his hand passing through her face barely had a chance to flash in his mind before he quickly pulled his hand away, pocketing it.
He eyed the armchair again before shaking his head. He couldn't keep sitting there, watching her, sleeping sporadically, and waiting for her to wake up and be the same Rowan Sawyer that he'd left in her apartment the previous day.
He wanted to be there when she woke up, but the waiting was putting him on edge, making him anxious. He just needed to step away for a short while and stop obsessing. At the rate she was going (alongside being a mortal recovering from everything she was), she should still be sleeping when he returned.
"Don't, uh, don't wake up or something while I'm gone," Jack mumbled to her sleeping form. After a beat, he said, "This is where you would say, 'Don't tell me what to do, Frost.' And we'd… call each other ridiculous, most likely."
As expected, the slumbering girl did not respond. Jack frowned and straightened his stance before walking to the door. "I'll be back soon," he said, his eyes on the girl until he closed the door behind him.
The rest of the pole was carrying on as though it were any other January. Yetis worked on prototypes based on ice sculptures that North had made. Where he found the time to make new prototypes for the new year and new batch of toys, Jack wasn't sure.
Some elves had been lurking nearby, no doubt peering under the door in curiosity. They scurried away, likely to pretend to be productive elsewhere now that Jack had emerged from the room.
He walked a few paces before trying to hover, pleased to see that he was steady in those attempts as well. He stopped short when he found Polyhymnia and Erato seated at the platform near the globe. Erato was flipping through a beaten up book, barely glancing at each page long enough to skim. Polyhymnia was humming softly to herself and working on some needlepoint, a small wooden kit full of various sewing supplies beside her.
"Hello, Jack, did you sleep well?" Polyhymnia said, glancing up from her work. Erato set the book aside, seemingly done pretending to be interested in its content.
"Not really," Jack said, his voice still hoarse as his feet touched the ground again.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Is Rowan still asleep?" Polyhymnia asked.
"Yes," he said. Polyhymnia simply nodded and returned to her embroidery, humming softly again.
"North is in his workshop, if you're looking for him," Erato said, standing up and walking across the platform, fiddling with her gloves as she went.
"I figured. But, um, is Cupid still around by any chance?" Jack asked.
"He left and then he came back and then he left and came back again. Last I saw, he was blowing off some steam in the training room. If this is about what Pitch said—" Erato said, eyes growing narrow.
"It's not," said Jack, shaking his head. He stepped aside, starting toward the lift that would take him to the bottom floor of the pole. "Thanks."
"Well then what is it?" Erato asked, taking a few steps after him. Jack waved her question away and settled himself in the lift, watching as the floors of the pole passed him by until finally he could go no further down. He hadn't been to the training room much in the past, only barely remembering where it was now.
He stopped outside the door, staring at it and straining to hear several faint thuds from within, not unlike the sounds that had stirred him awake briefly when Cupid found him with the Shadow People. He raised his hand to knock on the door and stopped short.
Was he really about to do this? His pride was begging him not to. Turn now, go talk to North instead, no one will know any different.
Well, except Erato. Jack couldn't be sure she wouldn't ask Cupid what he had wanted. Awkward questions would surely follow if he didn't go through with this.
Jack swallowed and knocked on the door before pushing it open. Cupid was pulling arrows from a beaten up target on the far side of the room. Cupid only barely glanced Jack's way before returning his focus to his arrows, sliding them back in the quiver fixed at his hip.
Neither of them said a word as Jack closed the door behind him and waited for Cupid to walk back to his side of the room. It seemed to take forever for the other boy to arrive, the room being rather spacious. His footsteps echoed as though to call attention to their silence.
"Can I help you?" Cupid said, nocking an arrow and drawing it back. With a snap, the arrow was released and with a thud it hit the bull's eye.
"About last night," Jack said, watching as Cupid prepared another arrow, barely acknowledging that Jack was there at all. Another snap, another thud, another bull's eye.
"Yeah?" Cupid said, tensing slightly as he retrieved another arrow from the quiver.
"I, um, I never thanked you," Jack said, choosing to stare at the target on the other side of the room rather than Cupid now. "For saving my ass with the Shadow People and for helping me out with Rowan."
Snap. Thud. Bull's eye.
"So, yeah," Jack said. "Thank you. Rowan would—Rowan would be dead if you hadn't shown up. And I wouldn't be much better. I owe you."
"You're not here to interrogate?" Cupid said, brows raised and finally facing Jack, who returned the favor.
"Strangely enough, no," Jack said. "I'm not exactly your biggest fan, but I don't think you'd risk the Muses like that."
"I wouldn't," said Cupid. "And, uh, you're welcome."
The pair broke eye contact, shifting uncomfortably now. Jack had never been in a situation with Cupid that didn't involve excessive name-calling, attempting to do each other harm, or in the case of the previous night, dire circumstance.
"So did you really find me because of my… love signal?" Jack said, cringing at just how corny it sounded. Cupid laughed.
"You've got it bad, Frost," he said, drawing back another arrow. "She does, too."
"Still?" Jack couldn't help but ask. "Even after they messed with her head?"
Snap. Thud. Bull's eye. "I'm sure that was part of why she was so upset. First she falls in love with Jack Frost of all people—"
"Hey," Jack said, eyes narrowed.
"—then it turns out that none of it is real. None of the time you guys spent together, none of your dumb inside jokes you probably have, none of it. At least, as far as the Shadow People led her to believe," Cupid said.
"Our inside jokes aren't that dumb," was all Jack could mumble. They were ridiculous, thank you.
Snap. Thud. Bull's eye.
His need for Rowan to wake up and believe in the Guardians and magic again was growing by the minute. The top priority was, of course, that her believing meant that she would continue to be safe at the North Pole. Additionally, and perhaps selfishly, he needed to know that she believed that all of the time they'd spent together had actually happened. That their entire relationship wasn't something she'd made up.
He wanted to be able to talk to her and ease any doubts. It was hard to believe that a day ago, communicating with Rowan was a given.
"Sure they're not," Cupid smirked. "I'm sure you guys don't have any dumb nicknames for each other either."
Little-Miss-Nice-List. Jack could feel his cheeks warming, if slightly. "Not at all."
"Uh-huh," Cupid said, deadpan as he nocked another arrow. "Regardless, she still loves you so you don't have to worry about that going away."
"Thanks," Jack said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
"Did she wake up yet? I'm assuming not or you'd be there instead of here," said Cupid.
Snap. Thud. Bull's eye.
"No, not yet. She hasn't even moved outside breathing," Jack frowned.
"Maybe it's one of those 'a watched pot never boils' things," Cupid said. "Go make a blizzard or something."
"Speaking of our usual jobs, shouldn't you be out harassing hormonal teenagers?" Jack asked. Maybe he'd already done that and come back, Erato had mentioned him leaving and returning.
"They can be hormonal without me," Cupid said. "I shouldn't be shooting at people right now."
"Why's that, your aim's still fine," Jack said, watching as yet another arrow lodged itself within the bull's eye.
"I get a little sadistic with these sometimes," Cupid said, holding up one of the lead rejection arrows before nocking it. "You're not suspicious of me, and I do appreciate that, I just wish more people shared the notion."
"What do you mean?" Jack said.
"Bunny is still suspicious, I can tell. Aunt Melpomene gave me one of those 'I won't sell you out if you come talk to me' talks before she left with Pitch. And Tooth, I think I just made her uncomfortable because I dragged her into it when she gave me a cover story. So, she hasn't said more than two words to me," Cupid said. Snap. Thud. Bull's eye.
"Bunny's default is 'suspicious,'" Jack said with a shrug. "Melpomene's fishing for a tragedy, and Tooth should come around, I think."
"I just, I've known all of them for so long, the fact that this is even an issue—never mind. I didn't sell anyone out, hopefully they'll figure that out," Cupid said, shaking his head and walking across the room again to retrieve his arrows.
"Maybe Rowan will have more information when she wakes up about what happened. She might know something that'll clear you," Jack said, walking a few paces behind Cupid if only so he wouldn't have to shout after him.
"I hope so. I'm still curious to know why they didn't consume her the same way they consumed you, it would have killed her for sure if they went through her chest," Cupid said, beginning to collect his arrows once more.
"I just want to know why she left the barrier," Jack said, his mind racing with thoughts of her apartment and all the times he'd been there in the past. It was supposed to be safe there, so why had she left? As he considered the first time he'd broken in and flipped through the pages of her notebook he suddenly became determined. "You know, maybe I will leave for a while and make some blizzards."
"Try not to get in trouble again, there's still barely a moon and I'm not gonna go look for you again," said Cupid.
"Don't worry, I know you're gonna miss me terribly, so I won't be gone long," Jack said, turning his heel and heading for the door.
"How thoughtful," Cupid said with a roll of the eye, retrieving his last arrow from the bull's eye as the door to the room clicked shut.
The pleasant smell of something burning drew Rowan from sleep, though she couldn't find it in herself to open her eyes. Her head hadn't pounded this badly since one particularly weird weekend in the dorms freshman year. She shifted slightly, instead, keeping her eyes closed.
Maybe she would fall asleep again and she wouldn't have to deal with her headache for a little while longer. That was her plan until she heard someone mumbling something under their breath. She froze, eyes still closed and listening carefully.
They spoke loudly enough so that she knew someone was speaking, but not so loud that she could decipher any of what they were saying. Was it even in English? The voice seemed familiar, but trying to place it made her head throb even more.
What were they doing there? Were they a friend or foe? She remained still and with eyes closed just in case.
They stopped speaking. Rowan tensed as something slid beneath her pillow before leaving something behind and pulling away. Footsteps could then be heard, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing.
Rowan barely cracked her eyes open. When she didn't see any movement, she rubbed them briefly before opening them again, her vision blurring for a moment before almost correcting itself. Everything seemed to glow around the edges, and whenever she tried to shift her gaze, the world seemed to tilt and twirl. She closed her eyes again and opened them, finding that nothing had changed and deciding that the best thing to do was to try and keep her gaze steady. This room was familiar, but she felt uneasy in that it was not her apartment, as she had expected it to be.
This is a safe place.
The statement dashed through her mind, leaving more pain in its wake. Rowan gently rubbed the side of her head, closing her eyes again.
When she opened them once more, she tried to take in the sights, to assess her surroundings. There was nothing suspicious on this side of the room. An empty armchair. An armoire.
She rolled over, surprised at how slowly she was moving and how much it hurt to do so, to look at the other side of the room. On the bedside table was some sort of dish next to a water pitcher. There was a bundle of some kind of herbs placed on the dish and burning slowly. It was no doubt the source of the pleasant smell.
"Hmm…" Rowan mumbled, turning over again. Cautiously, she reached under her pillow, feeling only the soft bed sheet until her fingers grazed something rough, jagged. She gently grasped the objects, pulling them out. She blinked a handful of times, trying to focus on what they were.
Three crystals rested on her palm, leaving spots of color on her flesh from the light passing through. One was a pale pink, the next was a deep purple, with a few transparent areas, and the last was orange. She furrowed her brow, closing her fingers around the crystals.
What did any of this mean and what was it for? Who had left the crystals and burning herbs? Why was she here, and how was she so sure it was safe? Rowan's thoughts hadn't gone far without her head pounding in protest. "Later," she sighed, resting her head atop the pillow again. She slid her hand beneath it, fully intending to just return the crystals to their place, but fell asleep before she could release them from her grasp.
Arachne peered through the multi-lensed peephole of her front door upon hearing a knock. She smiled, flashing pointed teeth as she identified her visitor before unlocking the door and pulling it open.
"It's not like you to knock, Thalia," Arachne observed, stepping aside for the Muse to enter. Thalia kissed Arachne's cheek gently, briefly. "Usually you're just in the middle of my house all of a sudden."
"Oh, you know," Thalia said vaguely, eyes fixed on Arachne's half-finished designs as the redhead closed the door behind her. "Thought I'd, uh, try out the whole 'manners' thing."
"You're never one for tact," said Arachne. "Observation, not an—"
"Insult, I know," Thalia said. This was usually where Thalia grinned to assure that no offense was taken. Arachne didn't usually worry herself with offending others with her observations, but this Muse was a bit different.
Thalia didn't grin, however. In fact the ever-present smile didn't seem to be there at all. Thalia seemed to be doing everything in her power to look anywhere but directly into Arachne's many eyes.
"What's wrong?" Arachne asked. "Did something happen at the new moon, is everyone okay?"
"Ara, I need to ask you something," Thalia said, fiddling with the ruffles near her collar.
"What is it?" said Arachne.
"You haven't spoken to anyone who might be involved with the Shadow People, have you?" Thalia asked.
"I've spoken to a lot of beings recently, it's impossible to know the alliance of all of them," Arachne said, puzzled. She'd dealt with an incredible number of clients for the ball alone, and she rarely discriminated against whom she would provide her services to. For the most part she didn't care if one was a "good" spirit or a "bad" spirit as long as they were a paying spirit.
"Did you tell anyone anything?" Thalia asked.
"What do you mean? Like what? What happened?" Arachne said, taking a few steps so that she was directly in Thalia's line of vision now.
"There's a leak on our side, we don't know who it is, but somehow the Shadow People found out that Tooth has Tsar Lunar XI's sword. They used this information to imitate her and lure Jack into a trap last night. Cupid got him out of it, but they were already delayed getting back to Rowan," Thalia explained, speaking quickly as her eyes shifted ever so slightly. She never could seem to decide which pair of Arachne's eyes she was supposed to make contact with.
"Did they kill her? Do they have her powers now?" Arachne asked, eyes widening. This would, of course, make all the Muses their next targets.
"No, but they came close. They messed with her head, they made her stop believing in the Guardians. She thought we were all just hallucinations or something. We, the Muses, I mean, we tried to make her believe again last night and it looks like it worked but we don't know if it's permanent yet. If she doesn't believe the Guardians can't help her," Thalia said. "Ara, I just need to know that you didn't say anything. No one outside the alliance was supposed to know specifics like the sword, but we told you about it."
"You think I sold you out?" Arachne said, taking a step away. "I didn't weave that stardust for the fun of it, Thalia, I did it to help all of you. What on earth would I have to gain from giving that information away?"
"I don't know, okay? I just need to make sure!" Thalia said. "Pitch was the obvious suspect, then he said it was probably Cupid and Tsar Lunar and Apollo don't think it's either of them."
"So it must be me?" Arachne said, crossing her three sets of arms before her.
"I didn't say that," Thalia said. "Apollo and Tsar Lunar said that someone might have overheard at the ball, or that one of us might have told someone that passed the information along and I just wanted to get here and talk to you first before Calliope or someone has to come and interrogate you or something."
"Do you think I did it?" Arachne asked. "Just tell me that."
"No, I don't. But I'm afraid of everyone turning on each other because I can tell that even though Calliope was trying to help Cupid clear his name she was suspicious of him. And I was starting to wonder who we could trust if we couldn't trust Cupid, and I just… I just need to know it wasn't you, okay?" said Thalia. "Please, just tell me it wasn't you."
"It wasn't me. And for what it's worth, I don't think it was Cupid either," Arachne said. "We both care about all of you too much."
"I trust you," Thalia said with a heavy sigh. "I just… I had to hear you say it, I don't know."
Arachne watched the blond curiously. She never knew Thalia to be this suspicious or get this worked up. Her gray eyes were filled with little else but fear and despite Arachne's irritation at being accused, her expression softened, and she set a gentle hand to the Muse's shoulder. "Did me saying it ease your mind at all?"
"A little. This is just getting scary, is all. I mean, before, Jack was just taking care of it and it was sort of… out of sight, out of mind. I never thought Rowan would actually be in any danger. I figured we'd take care of it before they had a chance to do any damage and now here we are," Thalia said with a frown, eye contact faltering yet again. "And if you're not the leak and Cupid's not the leak… that means it's someone else in the alliance, and I just hope it was by accident at the ball or something because I don't know, Arachne, I don't know what to do at that point if one of them wants us dead."
"Even Melpomene wouldn't wish death on the rest of you. Until you are given reason to believe otherwise, trust your sisters and the Guardians, I think," Arachne said, pulling Thalia into her arms.
Thalia leaned her head against Arachne's with a heavy sigh. "I just wish there was a single part of this that was funny."
When Rowan opened her eyes again, she was disappointed to find that her vision hadn't improved much, the world only spinning a bit less when she dared shift her gaze. Everything still appeared hazy as she released her grip on the crystals beneath her pillow and rubbed at the side of her head again.
She wasn't sure which was worse, the constant headache or the soreness present in her body whenever she tried to move. Arms trembling, she managed to push herself upright, only for the world to violently spin, which led her to quickly lie back again, closing her eyes and groaning.
She tried again, slower this time, before pushing the thick blankets off of her. There was something strange about her movements, something strange about this room. She felt as though she were moving through water, her limbs heavy and sluggish. The sound of the fireplace was muffled, as though she had cotton stuffed in her ears. Was that why she couldn't properly hear whoever was here earlier?
There was little that made sense. Her presence in this room, the crystals beneath her pillow, the herbs someone had burned. But while nothing made sense, she was in a state where it was easy to accept, like strange happenings in a dream. Perhaps she was dreaming, or had been slipped some form of drug.
That didn't matter now, however, not as much as her bladder. She'd been in a room like this before, she knew that, and the door on the other side of the room should be a bathroom. She set her feet to the cold floor and stood upright, loosing her balance almost immediately. She grabbed for the bed to steady herself.
Glancing down, she found that the nightgown she wore was much too long for her. This wasn't her nightgown. Whose was it? She gathered fistfuls of fabric, lifting the hem of the gown from the floor before taking a wobbly step forward. The world seemed to shift with every step she took and Rowan closed her eyes.
Holding the hem of the nightgown with one hand to avoid tripping, she reached the other hand forward to avoid walking straight into a wall as she walked again, eyes still shut, knees shaking and buckling.
She reached the door and opened her eyes, pushing it open and slipping inside. She locked it, vaguely wondering if there was anyone around to worry about being walked in on as she stumbled to the toilet to take care of what she had come here for.
In the next few minutes she found herself struggling with the faucet of the sink, proving to be more difficult than expected to turn. Her hands kept shaking and slipping from the knobs. The soap smelled strongly of peppermint and only aggravated her headache.
It was only after she'd rinsed the soap away that she glanced up at the mirror and jumped in surprise, taking a step back and beginning to fall. She grabbed for the counter to steady herself and closed her eyes tightly before daring to focus on the mirror again.
Bloodshot seemed an understatement when regarding these dark eyes, surrounded by dark circles and puffy from tears. Leaning closer, she found that her pupils were dilating and contracting at a steady pace.
Her cheeks were gaunt and her lips were pale and chapped. Cupping her hands together under the still-running water, Rowan splashed water on her face and rinsed out her irritated eyes. After taking great effort to shut the water off, she glanced back at her reflection, finding that all that had changed was that she now had wet strands of hair sticking to her forehead.
Stumbling over the nightgown, Rowan hastily left the bathroom. She gathered the skirt together again before walking clumsily back to the bed, practically collapsing upon it. The world continued to sway the more she moved and she tried not to think of the sickly face she'd just seen in the mirror. She crawled closer to the side of the bed with the water pitcher and attempted to lift it to pour herself a glass.
When she could not find the strength to lift the pitcher, she set the glass nearby and tried to tilt it over instead. It worked, perhaps too well, as the glass overflowed and spilled on the table. With a trembling hand, she closed her eyes and lifted the glass to her lips.
She tried only to focus on the water but couldn't help but think back to the eerie way her pupils were behaving. She could feel them move beneath her eyelids, still dilating and contracting, and dilating and contracting.
Rowan set the empty glass back on the bedside table before climbing back beneath the covers, feeling under the pillow for the crystals again. Gripping them seemed to help, if slightly.
What was going on? Had she taken something? She remembered waking up in this room once before, but what had she done before that? She closed her eyes again, trying to remember.
There were Shadow People at the apartment; that sounded right. She ran away from the apartment and was pursued by more Shadow People. She could remember being frustrated that she'd forgotten her car keys, she recalled almost being hit by a car when running through an intersection.
Flickering lights at the college. Flickering streetlights.
Her eyes filled with tears as she recalled what came next. A growing emptiness, doubts and hopelessness. Her world collapsing around her, leaving her with nothing to cling onto and call real. Everything had just been part of a story. She'd made everything up.
But there had been Shadow People, and she hadn't made them up. Somehow she knew that everything that she had believed to be real, actually was, but she wasn't sure how she had come to this conclusion. It made more sense that she had simply been hallucinating.
It was heartbreaking, to consider that her entire life might have just been a strange series of hallucinations, with recent weeks simply becoming stranger and stranger still. She couldn't be sure any being she'd met, legendary or otherwise, had been real.
But she knew it had all happened, that she hadn't been hallucinating. She had no reason, no proof, but she knew. It made her uneasy.
Could she trust her own mind anymore? It felt as though she had been brainwashed. She believed one thing to be true when logical thought was telling her otherwise.
Nothing made any sense, not one thing. She didn't know what to believe anymore: logic or the almost instinctual urge that told her everything was real.
She still wasn't sure how she had come to this room, why she was wearing this nightgown. Her head continued to throb and her limbs continued to ache. She shifted, and the necklace she wore slid across her chest. She let go of the crystal, carefully grabbing for the charm.
Cracking open her eyes, she lifted the charm so that she could properly see it (well, as properly as she could see anything with her eyes in such a state). The snowflake pendant with its blue topaz and stardust.
It was real. It was solid. She could touch it, see it. It was familiar.
It made sense.
Sighing, Rowan kept her fingers wrapped around the charm and closed her eyes, drifting back to sleep as she wondered where the boy that had given it to her was.
Jack slid the window open, finding that it was still unlocked. It wasn't as though anyone had been by to lock it, he supposed, as he slid inside. The apartment was quiet; it was still.
It felt strange to be here without Rowan letting him in. Entering without permission meant breaking a promise he'd made to her at the beginning of all this. Hopefully she'd forgive this incident if he could even talk to her to mention it.
There was a canvas bag near the futon. Picking it up, Jack peered inside it, finding a very small sketchbook and a small pencil case. It would work well enough, he supposed, propping his staff against the wall and walking toward the dresser.
He began shuffling through the drawers, grabbing clothing he'd remembered her wearing before and stuffing it into the bag. He didn't know if any of it went together or not, but at least she would have options besides the clothes she'd been wearing when she arrived at the pole and that nightgown.
He closed each drawer as he finished with it, stepping away to approach the table where he found the beaten up composition notebook. As he picked it up, a picture fell from between the pages. He paused, setting the book back down as he kneeled to grab the photograph, which had landed face down on the floor.
It was one of the Polaroids they'd taken the previous week before their date when Rowan had turned the camera around to take one of both of them. They were smiling in the picture, and why wouldn't they be? The disaster of a new moon hadn't happened yet.
Jack wondered if Rowan would even be able to see his image in this photo anymore, wincing at the thought as he stood upright again. Had it really only been a week? A week since they watched the northern lights and said they were in love out loud?
She had said it first, clearly apprehensive. He'd expected this statement to terrify him. After all, the last time someone had declared romantic love toward him, well… there was a reason he didn't talk about Melpomene much, after all.
But Rowan said it and he wasn't afraid. His heart had raced and the only appropriate response was to return the sentiment and kiss her. Everything about that night had gone so well, had felt so right.
Was it really just a week ago?
Jack tucked the photo back between the pages of the notebook, careful not to dwell on the scribbles and notes inside as he did. He then set the notebook and a pen from the table in the bag.
He slipped inside her bathroom next, opening the medicine cabinet and taking only a few things, wondering if it was a certain fairy's influence that made him remember the toothpaste and the extra tooth brush that had come with a two-pack.
Mainly, he had been looking for any sort of drug that might help if her head and body ached as much as his. Something told Jack that North treated everything the way he'd treated the cut on Jack's forehead and, well, vodka wouldn't make a headache any better.
Finding a bottle of ibuprofen, he shook it slightly, finding it mostly full before dropping it in the bag as well. He closed the medicine cabinet and tied the handles of the bag together, returning to the window and grabbing his staff from the wall. He glanced back at the apartment: the creepy dolls meticulously placed on their shelves, the drawings pinned to the walls, the hastily made bed.
He was going to miss stopping by every night. Hopefully they'd be back to their old routine, minus the threat of Shadow People, soon enough.
"All right, Wind," Jack said, climbing outside the window and carefully sliding it closed again. "Let's go back to the pole."
