Chapter 2
Jack gasped as light crashed around him. He sat up abruptly, sending snow flying.
"Whoa, mate!" Bunny said, shifting away to keep Jack's flailing from knocking the brightly glowing egg off his shoulder.
"What? Where is she?!" Jack sputtered as he looked around, disoriented. The light of the bright yellow Easter egg cast strange shadows, making it hard for him to immediate recognize his surroundings.
"Where is who?" Bunny asked, cocking his head to the side a bit. "You alright? Looked like you were havin a doozy of a dream. I couldn't hardly wake ya."
Jack's eyes darted around the little cabin, but Pitch was nowhere to be seen.
"It wasn't Pitch, was it?" Bunny asked as if reading Jack's mind, his eyes narrowing.
"What?" Jack asked, his eyes darting back to him. His brain finally started kicking in, and he realized if Bunny knew it had been Pitch he'd tell the others and they'd take measures to make sure he couldn't get into Jack's dreams again. If they did that, Jack would never know what else Pitch might know about his family. Sure, Pitch might just be toying with him, he hadn't really told him anything that he could verify yet after all, but was he really willing to dismiss what may be his only opportunity to find out about his family? Surely if any of the others knew anything they would have at least mentioned it by now. He wasn't sure he was quite up to outright lying yet, so he just shook his head and looked away. "My... um... my sister. Someone was just about to tell me where my sister was. Never mind. It was just a dream." He muttered, "What are you doing here?" He asked quickly, trying to change the subject before he could dig deeper.
"You mean other than freezing my tail off?" Bunny asked, shuddering and holding himself for warmth.
"Then leave!" Jack snapped before he could stop himself. He and Bunny had just started getting along... but he had just kept Jack from possibly learning more about what had become of his family! Not to mention that seeing Bunny here of all places was just bizarre. No one else had ever been there but Jack. In fact, at some point without even realizing it, he had kind of started thinking of this little cabin as apart from the rest of the world, out of the reach of anyone but him. Having someone else there just felt wrong somehow.
"Simmer down, mate!" Bunny said, shifting back a bit. "That right there's why I came. When you were up at the pole you were getting a mite cranky. Then we turn our backs for a second and you up and shot out of there without so much as a word. Never took you for a piker."
Jack let out a little exasperated groan, scrubbing his fingers through his hair to dislodge the remaining snow. "I was tired! Is that a crime?"
"You get tired?" Bunny asked with mild surprise.
"Don't you?" Jack shot back.
"No... not really." Bunny replied, "I mean I sleep on occasion, but just 'cause I want to. Don't really feel the need for it." He reached his hind leg up and gave his ear a scratch while he gazed up thoughtfully, "I know Tooth never sleeps. Sandy does a bit, but thought that was just 'cause... well, you know. It's kinda his thing, innit? North has a bedroom, but I kinda thought that was jus 'cause of the missus, if ya know what I mean." He said with a little wink.
"So he really does have a wife?" Jack asked in surprise. With so many legends and such it was hard to tell what was real and what was made up. "Why didn't I meet her?"
"After the Christmas rush she usually takes a little trip. Charity type thing. She's quite a Sheila. Still, she doesn't really have powers or anything, so there was no reason to call her back when Pitch popped up."
"Oh." Jack said softly. "Were they... um... were they married before he was chosen?"
"Na. They met some time in the late seventeen hundreds I think. She was one of those really rare types that don't stop seein us when they hit puberty." Bunny said distractedly, looking over at the fireplace. "Beauty!" He said, spotting the left over wood from the last batch Jack had brought up. He hurried over and set about arranging it in the fireplace.
North had met his wife while he was immortal? So it wasn't just part of the 'job' that you had to be alone. Having a relationship had seemed impossible, but apparently it wasn't. Well, at least not for North.
Memories drifted back to him of the trapper's daughter, Mira. The girl he'd always thought he would one day marry. He closed his eyes, remembering the stolen kisses when he walked her home through the forest. If his father hadn't died... the pain of the memory ached through him as if it'd just happened. It tore at his heart as he remembered her coming to stand by him at the funeral. The memory of her holding him, and the feelings that surged inside him, then they were chased away by the memory of the look in her eyes when he told her he didn't think he could get married. He'd felt like he had to stay, to take care of his family in his father's absence. Why hadn't he just married her? She probably would have understood. She probably would have been willing to stay and be a part of his family. They would have had almost two years together before he'd died. It might not have been long, but at least he would have had something. Had some memories of experiencing the kind of love there was between a husband and wife. They might have even had a child by then!
A hard ache went through his chest. No. It was completely selfish to even think about wishing such a thing. Letting her go then had been for the best. It was bad enough that he'd left behind his family... if he'd left a wife and a child and never even laid eyes on them again he would never have forgiven himself. And even if he'd remembered, she would never have been able to see him. And even if she could, their life together would have been over anyway. Jack gazed down at his hands. His skin was pale as snow, and just as cold. How could anyone even stand his touch, let alone want to have a relationship with him? She would have caught her death just trying to hold him.
Jack took a quick breath, trying to force down the tears that brimmed his eyes. He just wasn't meant to be loved. He'd made his peace with that knowledge centuries ago. Why was this so hard to deal with now? Maybe it was because before he'd never had any memories of a time when it would have been a real possibility.
He shifted up and opened the window, looking up at the stars. They had barely moved since he'd gotten there. He couldn't have slept for more than an hour.
"Strewth!" Bunny exclaimed as a sudden gust of icy wind whipped through. "Shut the bloody window!"
Jack sighed and shut it.
Bunny finally managed to get the fire lit. The dry wood caught quickly, blazing up brightly. He let out a sigh of relief, huddling closer to gather every bit of warmth he could. "What are you doing way out here beyond the black stump, anyway?" Bunny asked, gazing around at the small cabin.
"Is a little peace and quiet too much to ask for?" Jack asked as he moved over and sat up against the wall to the side of the fireplace so as little of the heat as possible would reach him. "In fact, how did you even find me here?"
Bunny gave a little snort, "I can find anyone anywhere. My tunnels take me wherever I need to be. You think I'd let some little nippers miss out on Easter just cause they're visiting grandma and didn't leave a forwarding address?"
"Right." Jack muttered to himself, gazing over at the sad little flower that had blossomed where Bunny's tunnel had been. It was obviously already frozen solid. He'd always been so good with plants when he'd been a normal boy.
"Easter was always my favorite holiday." Jack said in a soft, reminiscent voice.
Bunny darted a look over at him, his ears flicking around as he tried to determine if Jack was playing with him. "Really?" he asked suspiciously, "What with you bein the spirit of fun or whatever I figured you would be a Christmas kinda bloke."
"Christmas was great, don't get me wrong." Jack replied, "I mean it was the only time we got toys we didn't make ourselves and all. It was the highlight of the whole winter... but it was still in winter. I liked ice skating and snowball fights and building snow forts and stuff like that, but my favorite thing was being outside, and you just couldn't do that much in the winter. We couldn't be out for more than an hour or two at a time or we'd catch our death. And that was a lot more literal back then! We didn't have the big puffy insulated snow suits like they do now. The only thing that really made winter worth it, other than Christmas of course, was the frost. Going out in the morning when everything was covered in a thin layer of frost, sparkling in the rising sun. It made everything look magical. It could make the dullest everyday thing like a bucket or some dead weeds look breathtaking. And when it formed on smooth surfaces like glass and ice it formed the most amazing patterns. Hands down it was the very best thing about winter."
Jack paused and furrowed his brow thoughtfully. "I wonder if that's why he named me Frost...?" he mused.
"Could be." Bunny agreed with a little shrug. He was watching Jack curiously. "So what made Easter better than Christmas? I mean it wasn't nearly as big back then."
A little smile worked its way onto Jack's face as he thought about it, gazing absently at the shelves across from him. "Easter... Well, for one it was the only time we ever got eggs. Mom tried to raise some chickens, but the wolves kept getting them so she gave up. We'd be up and out there at the crack of dawn Easter morning finding every egg we possibly could. We'd eat some straight out of the shell, the others mom would make a couple of meals out of. Sometimes she'd pickle some for later if there were extras, but they were always best fresh. The bright shells we'd lay out on a blanket to dry in the sun, then we'd put them away in this old crock. Once it was warm enough to do some planting mom would sprinkle a bit of crushed shell in with each seed until they were all in the ground. She said it was good luck. The plants with the shells always seemed to do better than the others. It was probably just because the shells played fertilizer, but to us it was magic. I used to do a lot of the planting. Every spring since I was little I'd plant several acres worth of vegetables. It was always so amazing to see those first tiny sprouts... then watch the plants spring up and flourish. It always seemed so magical. Like I was creating life. I always loved spring time and the long warm days of summer. Flowers and butterflies and collecting wild berries from the forest." He said with a smile, lost in the memory... but then the smile faded. "Of course that's over now. Even if I live to be a thousand, I'll never get to feel like that again. It's just not in the cards for me anymore. All I do to plants now is kill them." He said sadly, reaching over and touching the little flower. It crumpled under his touch.
Bunny shifted uneasily. He wasn't sure what to say. What could he possibly say that would make Jack feel better? Nothing that he could think of, so he opted to change the subject. "So... all of those memories were in a bunch of teeth?"
Jack glanced over at him as if he'd almost forgotten he was there. "Hmm? Oh. No. The teeth only held some of the strongest memories of my early childhood, but seeing those memories... it did something." He shifted a bit uneasily, "It... I don't know, it's like it broke whatever barrier it was that was hiding my memories from me. The memories from the teeth stopped when I lost my last baby tooth when I was about thirteen, but once they stopped my mind just kept on remembering. Just the most important stuff at first. My little sister... my... my death." He said, his voice getting softer as he remembered his sister's face as he fell through the ice, her hand outstretched as she called his name. That must have been so terrible for her. What had she done then? Did she run home to get their mother? What could their mother have done? It must have been horrible for them. His heart ached as he imagined how much pain he had caused them. Had they ever even been able to recover his body? Or was he still in the body he'd had when he was alive? That pond was somewhat small, but it was almost unnaturally deep for its size. He wasn't even sure how deep. He'd never been able to reach the bottom. At least not that he remembered anyway. Maybe he did when he'd died. Maybe he was still there, his bones encased in the mud and muck.
Jack tried to pull his mind away from the dark musings. "There was that first rush of memories, then everything was happening and the memories were kind of pushed into the back of my mind... but once things calmed down... everything I see, everything I hear, touch, smell... it brings on this rush of memories. There are just so many of them, and they just keep coming."
"Well, don't worry, Mate. I mean that should go away soon. I mean it was just what? Fourteen or fifteen years' worth of memories?"
Jack shot him a little glare. "Eighteen."
"Really?" Bunny asked, looking him over with open surprise. "I'da lost that bet. Still, I'm sure your memories will settle in soon. I mean eighteen years... for a bloke that's been around as long as you that's a drop in the bucket. That's nothing."
"That eighteen years was an entire lifetime! Or at least all the life I was allowed." Jack growled testily. "It may mean nothing to you, but it's all I have!"
"Whoa, mate! You're goin 'round the twist again." Bunny said quickly, "I didn't mean nothin by it. Just sayin you'll get through it. It'll get better. You just have to tough it out a bit longer."
Jack sighed and dropped his eyes. He knew Bunny wasn't really trying to antagonize him. It was just so frustrating. That he'd had such a short life... that he'd been denied the memories of that life for centuries. All that he'd lost because he didn't remember. What he would have given just to be there for his family. Even if they couldn't have seen him, he could have at least made sure they had good lives. He would know if they were able to get over his death and find joy once more. He hated the thought of leaving them with nothing but sadness. His death resurfaced in his mind and started playing over and over again once more.
After a few minutes his brow furrowed. "Why didn't I struggle?"
"What?" Bunny asked perplexed.
"When I fell through the ice I don't remember struggling. I just... I fell through and then I remember looking up at the hole in the ice above. I could see the sky through it. It was getting towards evening, and it was still pretty light out, but for some reason I could see the moon. It was bright... but it shouldn't have been. I just drifted down and then... nothing. It doesn't make sense. I was the only one in my family who could swim. Well decently enough anyway. Why didn't I so much as struggle? I didn't even tread water."
"Well, if it was winter you were probably wearing heavy clothes." Bunny reasoned, "That would have dragged you down right quick, and with that freezin water ya probably got hypothermia the minute ya got dunked."
Jack mulled it over, but then shook his head. "The clothes were heavy, but I still should have struggled at least. I mean if the water wasn't even cold enough to freeze thick enough to hold us it shouldn't have been able to take me down without so much as a struggle. You don't think..." Jack stopped himself. He couldn't keep himself from thinking about what Pitch had said about his death. It couldn't be true, could it?
"Don't think what?" Bunny prompted when he didn't go on right away.
Jack took a deep breath. It was worth at least asking. "Do you think... maybe... the Man in the Moon might have kept me from struggling... kept me from getting out? So no one would notice when he took me and made me into Jack Frost?"
Bunny's eyes widened and his ears flicked back, "Don't be a galah! You cark it and jus 'cause you didn't flail about a bit the one who brought you back to life musta murdered you?! I'm completely gobsmacked you'd even suggest such a thing!"
Jack flinched back, the way Bunny' angry words echoed off the walls of the normally silent cabin somehow made the scorn in his voice sound ten times worse. "You act like it's some absolutely outrageous notion!" Jack said, starting to bristle.
"Because it is!" Bunny shot back.
"Well excuse me for asking a perfectly logical question. You and the man in the moon are obviously much better acquainted." Jack said, rising. "All he's ever said to me is five words. 'Your name is Jack Frost.' That's it. Not another syllable in over three hundred years! It's not exactly much to base a personality profile on, so excuse me for not being able to instantly know all of his motivations and what he would or wouldn't be willing to do. If you ask me, dropping someone in the middle of nowhere with no memory and nothing more than a name, then just sitting back and watching them flounder around and try to make sense of their existence for centuries sounds pretty callous. My emotional wellbeing and sanity didn't appear of any great importance to him all this time, so why should I assume that one little human life more or less matters to him? But you are obviously very close with him to know instantly and without a single doubt that he would never do something like that. Probably have long chats and play poker on Tuesdays. So tell me, if he's such a great guy how did he justify just leaving me like that? How could he just sit up there in the sky and watch me year after year, seeing how lonely and afraid I was, seeing how being so very close to people and never once being seen or touched or acknowledge in any way took its toll on me, how it made me doubt my own existence every single day? How can he see that and do nothing and still be this wonderful, saintly being you apparently think he is? Do you know how many times I asked him why I was here, begged him to just say something, do something, anything at all. It was years before I saw my first other fellow 'mythical being'. Can you imagine what that would be like? Years utterly alone in a world full of people? You know, for a while there I was completely convinced that I was in Hell. So do I believe he would be ok with killing me just to fill an open job slot? You better believe I do!"
"If it weren't for him..." Bunny started heatedly.
"I wouldn't be Jack Frost." Jack blurted, cutting him off, "I'm all too aware of that, thank you! But you know what? I'd trade three hundred years of this shadow of an existence for just twenty more years of life. Ten even! Yes, he gave me this half-life. All I want to know is if he took my real one in trade!"
Jack could see the impending tirade building in Bunny's expression and there was no way in Hell he was about to sit through it. He grabbed his staff from where it rested against the wall, had the window open and sprang out it before Bunny could even get his mouth open. The wind snatched him up and he flew up into the night sky. It sounded like Bunny called after him, but Jack couldn't hear what he said.
He soared up, higher than he usually went, up where the air was thin. It didn't bother him of course, since he didn't really need to breathe, but it always had a calming effect on him that he desperately needed at the moment. The wind tossed him around a bit, as if sensing his turbulent emotions. It was a bit violent at points, and would undoubtedly have been dangerous if physical injury was really a concern for him, but Jack just found it comforting.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized that the wind was the only thing that had always been there for him. He knew it wasn't a person, but in a way it had been the only friend he'd had for centuries. There had always seemed to be a kind of underlying feeling that there was something akin to a consciousness behind it when it carried him. It may have just been his imagination or his desperate need for companionship, but when he gazed down at the world far below, the wind raging around him, it almost felt like he could sense the whole earth, like a massive presence beneath him. It didn't quell the aching loneliness inside, but in some small way it felt like the earth, if nothing else, knew that he existed, even when he, himself, had doubts.
He mused on the wind and his life, both before and after death, as he soared around. He flew for hours, but followed the curve of the earth. He didn't really care where he was geographically. He just kept to the dark side of the planet. He wanted darkness right now. It made it easier to concentrate on his musings. And, of course he didn't want to land. If he landed Bunny could find him. He didn't know if he actually would, perhaps he'd just be done with him now and leave him be. He just didn't want to take the chance that Bunny would expect him to sit through a lecture.
Jack sighed into the wind. Why had he gone off like that? Did he really think the man in the moon killed him? Maybe. He had to admit that the more he thought about it, the more logical and likely it seemed. Still, why had he broached the theory with Bunny of all people? That had been stupid. Jack knew that. Why couldn't people just leave him alone when he was tired? He wasn't sure it was fair for people to hold him liable for what he said when he was tired... and yet he was sure they would. They wouldn't kick him out of the Guardians just because of some griping and questioning he did while groggy, would they? He hadn't really wanted to join up at first, but the idea of being a part of a group had become quite enticing. At the very least it was reason to meet with other people who could hear and see him on a regular basis, something he wanted more than he cared to admit. Even after he started running into beings like him, they were few and very far between. Not to mention usually too busy going about whatever job they'd been given to socialize much. In fact, his presence was usually more of an annoyance than something they enjoyed. So to have even a small group of them that would be willing to be around him if he ever found himself in desperate need of interaction to keep from going bonkers? That was horribly enticing. And the thought that he might have just screwed everything up with one ill-advised question...
"Why did I have to listen to Pitch?" Jack muttered ruefully to himself.
"Oh, what are you blaming me for now?" Pitch asked, taking a seat at the table.
"You were talking about the man in the moon snuffing me, and I was stupid enough to ask Bunny about it, and he went off on me and I was tired and cranky so I went off on him and it's just a big, stupid mess." Jack grumbled.
"Oh, I can imagine that wouldn't have gone well." Pitch mused, "Still, they're a trusting, forgiving lot... well, as long as they aren't dealing with me, so I'm sure they won't blow it too out of proportion. I mean they forgave you for the whole Easter fiasco, didn't they? Besides, he was bothering you while you were tired. In fact, you must have been absolutely exhausted. I certainly never expected to see you back here so soon."
"Back where?" Jack asked, looking around. What was he doing back in his little cabin? And when had he gotten the sturdy looking table Pitch was resting his elbow casually on? And the only chair the place had ever had fell to pieces over a century ago and he'd used it for firewood... so where had the one Pitch was sitting on come from?
Pitch let out an amused breath. "Is it really so difficult to figure out?"
Jack looked around at the cabin. He had this feeling like it should be really obvious to him.
Suddenly the whole cabin jerked violently and the air evacuated Jack's lungs. He fell to his knees, gasping desperately. Intellectually he knew he didn't really need oxygen, but it was frightening not being able to draw breath.
A hand brushed his back and air flooded his lungs. He gasped gratefully, looking up at Pitch. Slowly the dots connected. "I'm dreaming."
"Obviously." Pitch agreed.
Jack got to his feet and looked over at the door. There was no black sand on it, but then that jar had been much stronger than any of the ones that had woken him last time. Had it already knocked the sand off? If so, why wasn't he awake? Surely something that strong would have woken him unless Pitch was somehow keeping him here. "Is someone trying to wake me up?"
"No." Pitch said, "I'd say that was just a pretty impressive impact. You really shouldn't fly so high when you're this tired."
"I crashed into the ground?" Jack said with a note of alarm.
"Oh, don't worry. It's not like you can die or even take much damage from something as mundane as a fall, no matter the height. I do believe that was enough to knock you out pretty neatly though. I doubt anyone will be waking you for a bit after that."
"Did you..." Jack started.
"Don't blame me for your ill-advised sleep flying." Pitch shot back before Jack could even get the accusation out.
Jack let out a little suspicious huff, but given a moment to think about it he found he didn't really believe Pitch could have somehow caused that. He'd been the one who wanted to keep to the air, even though he knew how very tired he was. It really was just a stupid mistake on his part, and nothing he could really blame on Pitch. Besides, now that he was fully conscious of being in a dream state he remembered where his last dream had left off.
"Last time we talked, just before I woke up..." Jack began.
"Ah, yes." Pitch said, moving closer, his voice dropping, "Our little conversation was just getting interesting, wasn't it? Before that insolent rabbit interfered... Now where were we? Ah, yes... I remember..."
Jack gasped as Pitch's arm snaked around him and pulled him up against the man. His body seemed to radiate heat, his smoldering eyes gazing deep into Jack's seemed to make his thoughts fuzzy.
"I... uh, I meant..." Jack said, trying to get over the shock and recapture his thoughts. "Pippa! You were about to tell me where she was..." He swallowed hard. He couldn't bring himself to say 'buried'. He knew she was dead and had been for a couple hundred years... but to him it was new knowledge. It was still fresh and painful.
"Ah... Pippa. Yes." Pitch sighed, though he didn't let up on Jack. "She was a sweet girl, and a wonderful mother."
Jack couldn't help but notice that Pitch was drawing him closer as he spoke, settling his arms around Jack possessively. Those glowing eyes seemed to bore into him. Staring at them made him feel strange. Why couldn't he seem to make himself escape that grasp? He wanted to get away... didn't he? God it'd been so long since he'd felt arms around him like this. Not the fleeting, somewhat awkward hug Tooth had given him or the innocent hug of a child... there was no innocence in this hug. This embrace had a strong undercurrent of desire... and a dark sense of longing that Jack couldn't fully understand. He could feel the tickle of something inside of him that responded to it... something that mirrored that longing.
Pitch shifted his head slowly closer. The trill of incomprehensible emotion it sent through Jack scared him, jarring him enough to allow him to pull his gaze away from those entrancing eyes.
"You're just playing with me, aren't you?" Jack said a bit desperately. "You don't really know anything about what happened to her, do you?"
A look of irritation crossed Pitch's features. "It's a bit insulting you think I would use her like that."
"That doesn't mean you wouldn't do it if you thought it would mess with my head. Tease me with little tidbits but never give me anything tangible." Jack said, his racing heart calming a bit as Pitch's head shifted back once more.
"Your sister married well and lived in a very nice cabin they built right next to the one you once lived in. They weren't rich, but they lived quite comfortably. Her youngest son later built a much bigger cabin on a large plot of land not far from the river that runs past Burgess. The town grew around it, so it's pretty much in the middle of town now. That's where Pippa spent her 'golden years', surrounded by her grandchildren. It's still there today. Well, the actual cabin she lived in isn't of course. It would be dust by now. That was torn down and rebuilt a couple of generations down the line when fabrication techniques were a bit more advanced than the logs of that era, and then greatly expanded and 'modernized' in the beginning of the nineteen hundreds, but the homestead itself stayed in the family and the current house still holds artworks and other family heirlooms going all the way back to Pippa's time. It's on the corner of fourth and Main. In fact, the house is now considered a historical landmark. Some of the portraits of Pippa and her family still hang on the walls in the upstairs hallway. She was buried in the small graveyard next to the ruins of the old church just south of town. The one your father was buried in. She's three plots down. Most of your immediate family was buried there. There is a grave marker for you too, though of course there is nothing buried beneath it."
Jack blinked, stunned that Pitch had actually given him this sudden barrage of information, all of which it sounded like he should be able to check and verify. The last part caught him off guard though, making his mind race back to his previous musings. "My grave is empty?"
"Of course it is." Pitch replied, "They searched a long time, but it's not like there was anything for them to find. After all, how could they have found your body when you're still using it?"
"I... I wondered about that." Jack said, a bit stunned.
"I know. You were musing about it while you were half asleep. That's why I mentioned it." Pitch said offhandedly, as if hearing Jack's thoughts was nothing, "We all keep our mortal bodies, they just change to fit our new roles."
"Change?" Jack asked. That he could remember, all that had changed about his appearance had been the color of his hair and eyes.
"To suit the needs of our position. You obviously didn't need to change all that much, but that ridiculous rabbit would have been pretty useless for his job at his original size and without opposable thumbs. And do you really think Tooth always had feathers and wings? And North was a large man for his time period, yes, but hardly the towering giant of a man his is now. And you certainly don't think I always looked like this, do you?"
"What did you look like?" Jack asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.
"Not quite so tall, not quite so thin. I was a soldier, and quite feared by my enemies in life... but I didn't have an appearance that would strike an instinctual fear in all those who looked upon me like my current appearance does. There's just something unnatural about this appearance that strikes a chord inside people. I look a bit like my former self... but at the same time different."
Jack stared at him, but something about Pitch's features was blurred. Those eyes still burned into him, but some of the unnaturalness of his facial features began to fade. His nose was prominent, but not the almost beak-like curve he'd worn, his jaw was wider, his chin much less pointed, his lips that had been almost nonexistent were now much fuller... and quite warm and supple as they pressed against Jack's.
Jack's eyes slipped shut. God it had been so long since he'd been kissed! But Mira's kisses hadn't been like this. Her kisses were soft and timid. Neither of them had ever kissed anyone else, so it had been exciting and new, but their innocence had also made it a bit clumsy and rather lacking in prowess. There was no innocence in the lips pressed against his now. As if to prove it, Pitch's tongue managed to prize its way between Jack's lips, its amazing skill sending tremors of pleasure through Jack that no teenaged girl could ever hope to compete with.
The thought jarred Jack and he turned his head away. It took some effort, but Pitch eventually relented, releasing his lips. Jack gasped for air, trying desperately to clear the suddenly surging hormones and emotions racing through him. "What are you doing, Pitch?" Jack gasped, looking around and realizing he was now lying on his back on a large bed.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Pitch asked with a hint of amusement. He stroked his finger down Jack's neck and on down until it hooked on Jack's hoodie. He gave a light tug and it vanished like blue smoke, leaving Jack bare to the waist.
"We... we're both male!" Jack said a bit desperately as he looked around for a blanket or pillow to cover up with.
"Oh please!" Pitch sighed with obvious exasperation. "Don't tell me you're really this closed minded."
"I'm not closed minded!" Jack said defensively, "I just... I like girls."
Pitch gave a little negligent half shrug, "Girls are fine, but I don't see a whole lot of them running around, do you? At least not that would be of any interest to either of us. We have a pretty limited pool to draw from when it comes to relationships if you haven't noticed."
Jack tried frantically to come up with some reply for that, but it was true, so it was pretty hard to refute. Pitch wasn't making it any easier with the way he was absently drawing patterns on Jack's chest with his finger. At least he still had his cloak on. It left a decent portion of his chest exposed from the deep V neckline, but it seemed to do that a lot. "Don't you... think it's wrong?" Jack asked finally, though his voice was a bit more timid than he liked.
Pitch let out a huff. "Human society is so backwards sometimes. Homosexuality goes in and out of being acceptable like a fashion trend. When I was alive I was a member of the fiercest troop of soldiers to ever walk this earth. The mere mention of us would strike fear in the hearts of our enemies and plague them with terrible nightmares. Unlike most troops, our troop was entirely comprised of the finest soldiers alive... all in pairs. Your partner, the man you fought beside during the day, was the same one you shared your bed with at night."
"A troop of gay soldiers?" Jack asked, perplexed. Was Pitch telling the truth? He'd never heard of such a thing. Then again, who knew how long Pitch had been immortal? How long ago had he lived? Sometime either before or during the dark ages, that's all he knew.
"It makes perfect sense if you really think about it." Pitch reasoned, "Who would you fight harder to protect? Some fellow you perhaps shared a few drinks and war stories with, or your lover? Would you give up and surrender if your lover were by your side? Would you let him down and be dishonored in front of him, or would you fight to the death to protect him?"
"Umm..." Jack replied lamely. How does one respond to that?
"We fought and won many battles. Because of our skill and bravery were known throughout the land as the Sacred troop in fact. We were undefeated… up until that final battle... There were thousands on the battlefield that day. Our opponents outnumbered us, though were we were allied with the armies of several lands against our common enemy. When the battle began… since our troop was well known to be the fiercest warriors, the enemy ignored the other armies and drove straight for us, surrounding us, but not a one of us backed down. All three hundred of us were killed in a single day. I still remember seeing my erômenos fall to an enemy's blade." Pitch said, his gaze looking very far off and slightly haunted.
"Was that his name?" Jack said, a bit confused.
Pitch's gaze refocused on Jack. "No, that's just what they were called. The younger of each pair was the erômenos. The older was called the erastês. His name was Shaelaus. He was barely twenty when he died. I had been training him for over three years. He'd only been a full member of the troop for a few months, but he was an amazing fighter. One of the best. We were among the last of our men standing. I don't remember much after he fell... just the color red. I don't know if it was the haze of fury in my eyes or the blood. There was so much blood. I was the last of my men to fall. My blades took the lives of thirty seven men that day before I met my end."
"You killed thirty seven guys?" Jack asked, unsure if he should be horrified or impressed. Yes, it was terrible to take someone's life... but it had been a huge battle, and from the sound of it probably back in a much more brutal time. He'd never liked the idea of war, but he understood it. Well, enough to know that for a soldier it wasn't really a choice. In battle it was kill or be killed. He didn't like the idea of taking someone's life, but if the need had arisen Jack would have signed up without hesitation to protect his family and home.
Pitch nodded. "On that day, yes. At least that's what Azrael tells me, anyway. Personally I don't remember much of it, as I've said."
Jack's eyebrows furrowed. "Azrael?"
Pitch sighed, "The angel of Death. You're the embodiment of fun or whatever. You get to work with the Easter bunny and Santa Claus. I'm the embodiment of fear. I get a much darker group of coworkers. I do as little socializing as possible with that lot, as you can imagine."
Jack just nodded. He didn't know Death was real. Well, as an entity that is. It wasn't a comforting discovery.
"Speaking of socializing..." Pitch said, the way his gaze returned to Jack making it obvious he had had enough of reminiscing and was eager to return to their earlier discussion, "If you want to get technical, gender preference is a part of the reproductive drive... and neither one of us will ever be reproducing, so in our particular case the gender of anyone we chose to 'socialize' with is immaterial really."
Jack blinked in surprise. That was actually true.
Taking advantage of Jack's distracted thoughts, Pitch started kissing Jack's neck.
Jack shivered and turned his head away... but even he wasn't sure if it was an attempt to get away or to allow Pitch better access to his neck. He wasn't sure what he felt. This didn't seem right, and yet he couldn't deny his desire to be touched. The conflicting thoughts in his head were so confusing.
Pitch didn't ask why, he just took advantage of the exposed neck as his hands returned to exploring.
Jack's eyes blinked back open as the room suddenly lightened. It had been almost dark before, but there was golden light shimmering on the ceiling. As he watched, the golden shimmers drifted down towards him.
Pitch noticed as well. He shifted to the side and up into a sitting position, gazing up at the light with open irritation. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" He growled.
"What is that?" Jack asked.
"What do you think it is?" Pitch asked moodily, folding his arms over his chest as he glared at the falling glimmers.
The dots finally connected in Jack's head. He'd entirely forgotten he was dreaming. It was Sandman's dream sand. What was that doing there?
Pitch closed his eyes in resignation as the glimmers reached him. After a moment his brow furrowed and his eyes reopened. He looked at the bits of sand that dusted his robe in confusion. He reached up and gathered a bit from his sleeve and rubbed it between his thumb and index finger, gazing at it in confusion.
"What's the matter?" Jack asked.
"I'm still here." Pitch said, obviously puzzled.
"Shouldn't you be?" Jack asked, trying to work out his confusion.
"I've never been able to stay before. The sand comes and that's it. One touch of it and I'm ejected from the dream. I shouldn't be able to stay..." Something sparked behind his eyes and his gaze lifted, coming to rest on Jack, "Unless you want me here."
Jack's pale cheeks flushed. He didn't want Pitch here... did he? Why would he want him here? His mind tried to whisper the answer, but he didn't want to hear it.
Pitch leaned closer once more, watching Jack all the while with a kind of fascination.
Jack was still conflicted, but he didn't pull away as Pitch kissed him. His thoughts lost focus as Pitch deepened the kiss. The little nagging voice of morality in Jack's head was drowned out by the feel of those burning hot lips and that wicked, fiery tongue explored his mouth like it was trying to memorize it. And when it left it blazed a molten trail of pleasure down his neck. It found its way to one of his nipples and Jack's hips jerked up of their own accord, almost immediately hitting against Pitch's burning hot flesh. Jack's eyes sprang open, but he kept them trained straight up at the ceiling, refusing to look down and see what was happening... and if Pitch was still wearing anything.
Jack immediately felt it when his pants suddenly disappeared. He still refused to look down, but they had gotten so tight by that point that it was instantly apparent when they were gone. He couldn't help the little strangled sound that escaped him when hot fingers lightly brushed him. No one had ever touched him there before. He had honestly thought no one ever would. He felt his whole being screaming with desire as those fingers wrapped around him. He wanted to feel this so desperately. The fingers tightened and his hips thrust up into that grasp without thought. He still wasn't sure if he wanted this, if he wanted it to be Pitch laying here in this bed with him, but if not Pitch, would anyone else ever touch him? Could he really take that chance merely for the sake of moral qualms that he wasn't even entirely sure were relevant for immortal beings?
Pitch shifted lower. Jack called out as it felt like molten lava was engulfing him. His fingers instantly grabbed a handful of Pitch's hair as his hips thrust up again. Pitch grasped his hips and pushed them down against the bed and held them there, but he didn't leave Jack wanting. Jack shuddered and groaned, fighting against the hold and shamelessly using his grasp on Pitch's hair to try to make him go faster.
Jack had never felt anything like it. God, why did it have to be a man making him feel this way? Especially this man? And why was Pitch doing this? Did he want something from Jack? Was he trying to trick him into leaving the Guardians and joining him? It suddenly occurred to him that Pitch might just want to get Jack to do something reprehensible and then tell the others to try to get them to throw him out.
Pitch suddenly shifted up, releasing him. Jack looked up and saw a flash of emotion that almost looked like hurt cross Pitch's features before he hid it behind a scowl. "Is it so hard to believe I might just want to be with you?"
"What?" Jack asked in surprise.
"You're so intent on looking for ulterior motives. I asked you to join me and you turned me down. Fine. You don't want to work together. I accepted that. I also do not 'kiss and tell', and certainly not for petty vindictive reasons. All I was hoping for here was a possible purely social relationship. You're the first person I've come across in centuries that I felt had that kind of potential, so I wasn't going to throw out the possibility entirely just because of a little conflict of interest at work. Unfortunately, you obviously have a few more qualms about it than I do. Yes, I'm what you appear to consider the 'bad guy', and you are one of the 'good guys'. I may have wanted to explain myself and get you to see the broader picture so your perception of me wouldn't be quite so harsh, but I never had any intention of changing myself, or you for that matter. I'm also not a woman, nor will I ever be. I tell you what... if you ever escape your current mire of puritan morality and want to give me a try, you know where I'll be."
With that Pitch rose and walked away, billowing into black smoke before fading away.
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A/N – yes, that troop of gay soldiers really did exist. Go to worldhistory dot org and look up "Sacred band of Thebes". I had already had that as part of his backstory some time ago when I first started writing this (in like 2013), then someone just recently gave me the link to that entry on it. There is a picture of a "Relief of a Greek Warrior" a little down the page that I swear looks just like Pitch! I was like OMG, I was right! Seriously, what are the odds? And if you are trying to imagine Pitch's human appearance, well personally I think along the lines of Jude Law of course (that IS who he is actually based on after all) though I keep the hair black, and as an erastês he would have been in his late twenties.
