Azrael walked into the hospital room and went over to the bed, gazing down at the little old man who lay there. There was a tube that ran under his nose feeding him oxygen, but every breath seemed to be a bit of a struggle. After a moment the old man stirred, opening his eyes. He blinked, then reached over, searching around for his glasses. Azrael picked them up off of the night stand and put them on him. They made his eyes look quite large, which only served to make him look smaller and frailer by comparison.

"Ah, sweet angel. I was wondering when I'd be seeing you." He wheezed softly, a little smile on his face as he gazed at her.

"Henry, what am I going to do with you?" She asked with an amused breath, taking a seat on the bed beside him.

"I'll take that as a good sign. You're sitting, so you must not be in a hurry." He said happily. "What is this? Your fourth visit?"

"Fifth if you want to get technical." She replied mirthfully, "But you weren't much more than a toddler the first time, so I don't blame you for not remembering. Besides, I just happened to be there. It was a friend of mine that pulled your bacon out of the fire that time. You've always been trying to jump ahead in line, haven't you?"

"Had to live life to the fullest while I could! I know more than most how easy it can go away. I know you've come to collect me this time, but it was worth it just to see you again, pretty lady." He said happily.

She had to smile at that. She gazed at him for a long moment, then started a bit hesitantly, "This is probably going to sound really strange coming from me… but I was wondering if I might ask you for a favor. If you'd be willing to help, I could…"

"Let me stop you right there." He broke in, giving her hand a little pat, "No need to bribe me. I'm just going to go ahead and say yes right now, because I simply must know what it is that I could possibly do for you!"

She smiled at him warmly.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Jack stirred slowly. He felt warm, but oddly that wasn't unpleasant. He felt strange though. Like something was pressing down on him. In a sudden rush what had happened came flooding back to him and he sat up, blinking his eyes open and trying to figure out why he felt like his body was made of lead. He was in a strange room. There were open windows in front of him, the curtains drifting lazily in the breeze. The air smelled odd, fresh but also kind of salty.

When he shifted, he felt his hand brush something and he looked over, seeing he wasn't alone in the bed. His eyes went round. "Pitch?" he asked in wonder, reaching over and running his hand over the man's chest.

Pitch's eyes fluttered open and he gazed around, disoriented, then his eyes focused on him. "Jack?" he asked, reaching up and running his fingers through Jack's brown hair. "You look strange with that hair... and those eyes…" he said, still sounding a bit groggy.

"I look strange?" Jack asked with a little amused breath, "You're not monochrome anymore! I mean I guess you looked the same before, but I was kind of distracted by all the blood at the time…"

Pitch looked down, realizing for the first time that his skin was indeed a warm olive color. He sat up in surprise, but then winced and let out a little groan, pressing his hand to a scar on his chest where North's sword had gone through him.

"Careful there. That one's probably gonna ache for a while."

They both looked over in surprise as Azrael appeared at the end of the bed.

"What happened?" Pitch asked, carefully straightening up. "Where are we? This is obviously no afterlife." He said, rubbing the scar ruefully.

"The Man in the Moon tried to make some executive decisions that were not his to make." She said with a tight smile. "As a result, some administrative reorganization is getting underway in your belief system. Until a new hierarchy is established, what to do about the two of you is kind of up in the air. I'm afraid you're going have to hang out here for a bit until the restructuring is complete and the new administration takes power."

"Did you make us mortal?" Pitch asked in shock.

"No, honey. You did that." She replied with obvious amusement. "Remember that whole thrusting that immortal sword through your own chest thing? Any of this ringing a bell?"

Pitch glanced down at the scar, Then looked around his body more, "If I'm mortal again, what happened to my other scars?"

"Please! You looked like a road map! I couldn't leave you looking like that or people would ask way too many questions! You don't need that kind of scrutiny. I wouldn't have even left the ones I did if I'd had a choice, but as you know, immortal weapons leave scars that not even I can erase."

"I supposed my scars would tend to call attention to me in this day and age." Pitch said distractedly, looking at the unblemished skin of his arms. His brow furrowed, then he looked over at Jack, then back over to her in confusion, "But I don't understand… why is he mortal too?"

"The Man in the Moon killed him." She said with a little shrug like that should have been obvious, "But at least he drowned him, so it didn't leave scars."

"What?" Pitch asked angrily. "I gave him what he wanted and he still killed him anyway?!"

"I… um…" Jack said hesitantly, "I told him to."

"You what? Why?" Pitch asked.

"You didn't want to go back to being alone again. What makes you think I would want to?" Jack said softly. "I told him I go where you go. So he killed me."

Pitch let out a pained sigh and slipped his arm around him, pulling him over closer and kissing him. After a moment he broke the kiss, then furrowed his brow, shifting back and pulling up the sheet. "What on earth have you put on me?"

"It's called underwear." Azrael said with a smirk, "Get used to it! There's more clothes in the wardrobe over there. Please attire yourselves properly before wandering out into public."

"Hold on! Are you seriously going to just leave us here as helpless mortals?" Pitch asked incredulously.

"Well… You're not a hundred percent mortal." She said, waving her fingers towards them.

They looked down, seeing the silver ankh symbols appearing briefly on their chests before they faded away.

"I'll know if you run into any trouble, but please try to avoid doing something stupid and getting yourselves killed again. Yes, I could bring you back, but I'd have to find you a new place to stay at the very least, and I found you a pretty sweet little setup here, so don't mess it up! I was sure to make you immune to disease since your immune systems are from so long ago they probably wouldn't stand a chance against today's evolved diseases. Oh, and you have no allergies, so don't worry about that. Any minor cuts, abrasions and the like that you might incur should heal rather quickly. Not instantly or anything, but much faster than normal for humans. Your marks also have just a hint of suggestibility magic in them that will help people swallow whatever tales you have to spin to explain your lives and your presence here, but it's a very mild bit of magic, so keep it as buyable as possible. It's usually best to stick close to the truth, just spin it a way they can relate to. You also won't age. Not that that should really be an issue since it shouldn't be more than maybe a month, possibly two, but at least you won't have to shave." She said with a chuckle. "Oh, and Jack… what you're feeling right now… that's called gravity. You're going to have to learn to deal with that whole thing again. You go playing around and break something and… well I'll sign your cast if you like. Am I clear?"

Jack quickly nodded. It'd been so long since he'd been mortal… and he'd seen so many bad things happen to people over the centuries that the thought of being in a fragile human body again was a bit frightening to be honest. It was strange that he'd never worried about that kind of thing much when he'd actually been mortal.

"Get some clothes on already!" She prompted when they just sat there in shock, "I'd like to introduce you to your host before I leave, but I don't have all day to be at this. Now on top of my regular work load I have to look over potential replacements and set up interviews. It's a whole can of worms."

Jack was hesitant to get up in front of her wearing only the pair of boxers he found himself clothed in, but she had obviously seen plenty of them already and he didn't want to keep her waiting. "Um… why don't you just run it yourself?" He asked as he went over and pulled the top doors of the wardrobe open.

"Oh, hell no!" She replied mirthfully. "I am exactly as close to management as I ever want to be! No thank you!"

Jack quickly tugged on a pair of long denim shorts and then snatched up a slightly faded red concert t-shirt and offered it to Pitch with a teasing smile on his face.

Pitch snorted, "I think not! Is there nothing with sleeves?" he asked, looking around through the numerous articles of clothing.

"This is not a 'sleeves' kind of place. And don't bother looking for full length pants either." Azrael replied mirthfully. "I have provided you with identification and some spending money in case you should require it. If you use the money, it will replenish itself. I'm certainly not going to waste my time trying to figure out how to give you magic credit cards! Technology and magic don't tend to mesh well, so it's best to stick to cash." She said, nodding towards a couple of wallets on the small table beside the wardrobe.

Jack tugged on the t-shirt Pitch had refused and picked up the first wallet. "This one's yours." He said, putting it back down and picking up the other. "Jack Burgess? Why does he get to keep his name but I have to change mine?" He asked, looking over at her.

"Oh come on." Azrael said, rolling her eyes. "Pitch Black is a name you can get away with. Some people actually saddle their kids with names like that nowadays. Besides, almost no one in this day and age knows 'the boogieman' as Pitch Black, so people should buy it. Jack Frost? I mean I still don't know how your name got around before anyone even believed in you, but it did, so keeping your real name isn't really an option I'm afraid. This way you get to keep your first name at least. Besides, a little over half of the direct descendants from your family have that last name, so I'd say it fits."

He sighed, grudgingly conceding the point, but then furrowed his brow, "Wait," Jack said, his eyes taking in more of the information on the ID. "This says I'm twenty two."

"Yes, well I think you can make people buy it as long as you behave yourself. Besides, Pitch's age at the time of his death was twenty seven as noted on his ID, and I thought it would be best to narrow the mortal age gap between the two of you for the sake of appearances, but it's not like I could make him any younger. People would never buy it. No offence." She said, smiling at Pitch, "It has nothing to do with your body. In fact that body of yours is the only reason they would even buy twenty seven! You just have that 'old soul' feel about you that already speaks to far more experience than even the most worldly twenty seven year old should have."

Jack looked Pitch over, then nodded in agreement. "Ya, probably best." He sighed, eyeing the wallet. It wasn't overly thick, but he knew it was going to feel awkward having something in his pocket. Or even having a pocket for that matter. Well, other than the one in his hoodie, but all he ever usually put in that pocket was his hands. He never really usually carried anything with him other than his staff. His eyes widened as he looked at his forearm, finding it bare. He looked up at Azrael in alarm.

"Don't worry, your personal belongings are in that small closet over there. I've hidden it so mortals can't find it, let alone open it, but my mark allows you access to it. You're welcome for the magical laundering, by the way. You have any idea how hard it is to get immortal bloodstains out of cloth?"

Jack looked over, seeing the closet she was indicating. He dropped the wallet back on the table and went over and opened it. It was very narrow, barely two feet wide and obviously intended as a compact space for storing brooms or other such cleaning implements. Pitch's cloak and his Hoodie looked odd just hanging there on regular mortal hangers. His hoodie looked rather plain, as it had been when he first got it, the frost design no longer on it while he wasn't wearing it. And Pitch's cloak… his clothes had never really seemed like cloth to Jack, so the normal, physical nature of the fabric seemed strange. At least he was reassured to see his staff leaning up against the back corner, even though it looked like regular wood, not a hint of frost on it. He looked down, seeing the other item leaning up against the other back corner of the closet next to Pitch's shoes.

"What's this?" Jack asked, picking up the obviously ancient, hand forged curved sword. It was surprisingly heavy, with the weight being centered higher up where the curve of the blade was significantly wider, kind of making it feel like an oversized ancient meat cleaver.

"That would be my kopis." Pitch replied, now wearing the longest pair of black shorts he could find, but still searching for an adequate shirt. "Well, technically it wasn't mine. They were usually mostly only carried by the soldiers on horseback, as the extra height combined with gravity made them much more affective for them. I took it off a dead soldier when I lost my xiphos during my final battle. Still, it was what was in my hand when I died, so it became my immortal object."

"But you usually have a pendulum…?" Jack said, confused.

"Yes, well once you bond with your immortal object you gain more power over it and can learn to change its form if you like. And of course I could alter mine quite readily into about any shape I wished once I started forming it using nightmare sand. Pendulums became synonymous with fear and dread after that Poe fellow wrote about them, so since then that's mostly what I use it as, but if you hadn't noticed I can also wield it as an arrow or a spear… or pretty much anything else if I so desire."

"Oh… right…" Jack said softly, trying not to remember the sight of Pitch's arrow hitting Sandman in the back. He put the strange weapon back in the closet and closed it up. He brushed it off as he looked up, seeing the shirt Pitch had finally settled on. It was a short sleeved tan button up shirt with a single line of darker brown silhouettes of palm trees across the middle. It was probably the most subdued of the designs he'd seen, but it still looked rather bizarre on Pitch.

Jack couldn't help but smile at the sight… and the fact that, despite how diligently he had searched for clothes that would cover him adequately he hadn't bothered to button the shirt, and didn't look as if he had any intention to. All dark thoughts forgotten, he walked over to him and slid his arms around him. Pitch held him tight without hesitation. Feeling the warmth of his body against him, his strong arms holding him tight… it was the closest Jack had come to feeling like he was home in the last three hundred years. Jack pressed his face into his shoulder, ignoring the strange feel of the fabric. "I thought I'd lost you." He breathed softly.

"I'm sorry." Pitch sighed, "But I know that bastard. He would have killed you without a qualm if I denied him his prize. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you like that. You're still so young. I thought you would be able to go on… to find someone else."

"'So young'? Why can't anyone seem to remember that I'm over three hundred years old?" Jack asked, having to try hard to keep the petulance out of his tone.

Pitch eased back a bit and reached up, tilting Jack's face up and gazing into his eyes. "I remember. I also remember that I was two thousand years old before you drew your first breath. It kind of takes 'robbing the cradle' to a whole new level if you think about it."

Jack's eyes went wide, but then slid shut as Pitch took advantage of his stunned silence and kissed him. As mind boggling as this new piece of information was… he was having a hard time focusing on it at the moment.

They broke apart a few minutes later when they heard Azrael clearing her throat loudly.

"That's truly lovely, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to save that for later, boys. I'm on a tight schedule."

They both nodded and they separated, looking properly abashed for having forgotten themselves.

"So, your host's name is Henry. He is one of my frequent fliers and he has the sight." She held up her hand when Jack furrowed his brow, "Sorry, in layman's terms he's one of the ones fated to live a long life but keeps tempting said fate, forcing me to intervene. 'The sight' is how we generally refer to those that can still see at least some spirits past adolescence. That means he saw me every time I was forced to intervene, saving his life. Which is, of course, how I happen to know a mortal well enough to ask him for a favor. We're practically old friends by this point. He was actually originally one of your rescues, Pitch, but he was only about three and a half at the time, so it's unlikely he will remember that. Not impossible though. He's a bit of an odd duck, but I think you'll like him. He's a retired historian. Oh, and his family insisted on him having someone to check up on him, so he hired a live-in care taker, but he prefers to consider her his 'research assistant', so you probably should stick to calling her that."

She held her hands out to indicate the room around them, "This is where you will be staying. This is his 'pool house' which he built when his sons were hitting their teens and wanted to be a bit more independent. As such, it has a full bathroom with a shower." She said, pointing to one of the doors, "And thanks to Tooth you will find it is stocked with everything you could ever possibly want or need for dental hygiene. There are also plenty of spare clothes that his sons left behind, as you've seen. They moved to colder climates when they moved out, so they left their 'summer' clothes behind. The underwear you're wearing, as well as the additional underwear in the drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe is new. The rest of the clothes might have a little bit of dust on them, but they are otherwise clean. There's a small refrigerator in the corner you can use to store cold drinks, but you will have to take your meals in the main house. There is a second bedroom through there," She said pointing to the door on the far side of the room, "but in the decades since his boys moved out he's moved most of his research materials into that room. I didn't think you'd mind sharing this one." She added with a little smirk. "And of course you're going to have to do all that tedious mortal stuff like eating and bathing and all that, so don't forget any of that. Your bodies need to be maintained. It'll come back to you. Oh, and Jack… I'm afraid you're going to have to learn to deal with shoes again."

Jack's eyes widened.

Pitch smirked at his expression, but forged on, "What does this Henry fellow know about us?"

"Well, he knows who I am, obviously. Well, I'm not sure if he knows that I'm the actual angel of death or thinks I'm just some random angel, but either way I think that point is moot. He knows you are my friends, so he's probably going to assume you are some kind of supernatural beings as well. I suspect your lack of knowledge about modern life, electronics and social etiquettes will probably confirm that pretty quick. He'll probably try to pry some, but shouldn't be too pushy if you don't offer up answers. He's excitable, but at the same time very laid back. Do me a favor and don't throw him too many crumbs. I want to see how long it takes him to crack it on his own. He's quite a character and very bright, so my money is on an hour or less. As for his 'research assistant', Tala, she has no idea about this arrangement. He'll have to introduce you when she comes around. I've never even seen her myself, and she was away on an errand when he agreed to do me this little favor. Anyway, get on some shoes so we can get in the house already. I altered them to make sure they'd fit, so you have no excuses Jack." She said with a smirk, indicating a number of pairs of sandals piled up on a mat next to the door. "Oh, and since Henry has the sight, and I really don't think we should get him any more excited than he already is, I've had to ask the other Guardians not to visit you. I just didn't want you to think they were ghosting you or anything. They did want to see you, but they understood the need to hold off until the situation is resolved."

Jack let out a little somewhat sad breath, but nodded. He didn't really like that the last words spoken between them had been angry and hurtful… but then again he didn't really know what he could say to Bunny or North after all that had happened, so in a way he was kind of glad he wouldn't have to face them for a while. He knew they had probably thought they were trying to help him… but their complete lack of faith in his judgement had really hurt.

Pitch let out a little amused breath as he slipped on a pair of sandals with somewhat thin soles and a three inch thick leather strap that crossed the foot just below the toes, a smaller leather strip going between the big toe and the other toes to keep them more securely in place. "I haven't worn sandals since I was alive. They haven't changed nearly as much as I would have expected."

After some trepidation, Jack settled on a pair of flip flops. Pitch let out a little amused breath when he saw his choice, but didn't comment.

When they left the little building they saw a rather decent sized swimming pool between their new temporary residence and the main house. As they skirted around it Pitch reached out and slipped his arm around Jack's waist, pulling him closer… and keeping him from going over and dipping his feet in the clear, sparkling water as he so obviously desperately wanted to. Once they were safely past the tempting water he released him.

When they arrived at the large sliding glass door they could see a little old man waiting in the kitchen, practically bouncing on his toes. He was barely five foot tall, thin but healthy looking, his eyes saucers of pent up excitement greatly magnified by his thick glasses. His skin was tanned like old leather, an unruly shock of gray hair on his head. He hurried over, sliding the door open for them and eagerly gesturing them in. "Come in, come in! I'm so excited to meet you! I hope the pool house is ok. I opened the windows to air it out a bit, 'cause it hasn't been used in a while, but there is an air conditioner if you'd prefer. In fact I have some spare rooms in the house that you'd be more than welcome to, but she thought you might prefer some more privacy."

"Oh, we're… umm…" Pitch started uncertainly, looking over at Jack and obviously trying to figure out how to phrase their relationship.

"Oh, oh, no I wasn't implying separate rooms, I meant there were several to choose from. I know you're together. That's pretty obvious. This is the west coast. No one here cares about that." He said, waving it off, "At least no one I care to associate with does. I'm Henry." He said holding out his hand.

"I'm Pitch." Pitch replied, reluctantly taking the offered hand.

Jack had to keep himself from smirking as he watched Pitch's uneasy expression as he let the man shake his hand rather enthusiastically. It was obvious he was very unaccustomed to social interactions, especially those involving physical contact.

"And I'm Jack." Jack said, offering his hand to help cut short Pitch's discomfort.

Henry shook his hand just as enthusiastically.

When he released Jack's hand he clasped his hands together, obviously very eager. "She says you'll be here for a month or two. What would you like to do while you're here? We're only about a block away from one of the best beaches around these parts. Do you like to surf?"

Jack's eyes went round, "Oh my God, I would love to go surfing! I've never done it before, but…"

"I could teach you!" Henry immediately offered, "I have a spare board and everything!"

Azrael closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. "Henry, you're killing me here!" She moaned with exasperation, "You literally just got out of the hospital because you went surfing."

"It wasn't the surfing, it was the pneumonia that did that." He reasoned.

"The pneumonia you got because you went surfing when it was still jacket weather out!" She replied with tried patience.

"Well… that might have had something to do with it," He muttered, then he brightened, "But if I'd have been able to find my long thermal suit I woulda been fine. And I'm pretty sure I remember where that is now!"

Azrael just let out a little groan, giving her head a shake.

"I really would like to learn to surf…" Jack said in a soft, pleading voice.

She looked between Jack and Henry, who were both giving her their best pleading looks. "Fine!" She sighed, giving in. "But! The weather must be warm, and that's by other people's standards, not just yours, Henry!"

Henry nodded quickly.

"And they practice swimming in the pool first until you're sure they can both swim well. They're probably a bit rusty."

Henry nodded again.

"And no more than ten foot swells."

Henry wilted a little, "Twelve?" He tentatively counteroffered.

"Ten." She replied evenly.

Henry sighed, but then smiled brightly, "Ok!" He said.

She watched Henry and Jack exchange excited looks and she shook her head, "Gods, what have I done?" Then she looked over at Pitch. "I'm out of here. You're in charge of the kids. Have fun."

Pitch watched a bit worriedly as she vanished, then looked over at Jack and Henry and sighed. This could be challenging. He rubbed the scar again. It wasn't too bad really, and he was already feeling the aching starting to fade some, but he wasn't used to feeling physical discomfort.

"Where are my manners?" Henry said suddenly, "Would you like something to drink? I could make some lemonade. Do you like lemonade?"

"No idea. I've never tried it." Pitch replied honestly.

Even Jack was a little surprised by that, but then he realized Pitch probably hadn't eaten or drank anything since he was alive. "Um, he's from Greece." Jack offered.

"They don't have lemonade in Greece?" Henry asked curiously.

"From what I gather about the global economy, not to mention men's apparent need to redistribute native plant species wherever they go, it most likely is available there now, but it wasn't when I was there." Pitch replied, shifting his gaze to take in his surrounding and subtly signaling the end of the conversation.

"Ok," Henry replied simply. "Well you really should try it. It's very good. Why don't you go on in and take a seat in the living room and Jack and I can make the lemonade and bring it out."

Pitch looked back over at him, then followed his gaze and realized he had been rubbing the scar again. He dropped his hand and just gave a curt nod, then made his way into the living room.

"Sorry, he's not a really social person. He was on his own for quite a while before we met." Jack said apologetically, keeping his voice low so it wouldn't carry into the next room. Jack himself had conversations with all sorts of people all the time… though admittedly the whole them hearing him and potentially responding thing was still rather new.

"Oh," Henry said, waving it off, "He's fine. Let's get the lemonade made."

Jack smiled and hurried to grab the pitcher and glasses out of the cabinet as Henry pointed them out to him.

Pitch sat there, gazing around at the living room. It really was a quite nicely appointed home. Unlike the light wood floors in the kitchen, the floor in the living room was made of a rich dark hardwood. Smooth, uncarpeted floors were probably a good choice when one might be tracking in sand on a regular basis. The ceilings were somewhat high, but for the climate it seemed appropriate. It left room for the hot air to rise, leaving the cooler air down where the people were. There were some ceiling fans to help with the air circulation, but they weren't on. It was still quite early in the season, so they weren't needed yet. The breeze through the open windows was pleasantly cool.

The furnishings all appeared to be of entirely different styles, but in an odd way it almost made them seem like they matched. The chairs and couch also appeared to have been selected specifically for their comfort. The chair he was in was quite comfortable, despite only being made of plain carved wood with no cushions. The walls and shelves were filled with all manner of antiques interspersed with Native American art from a great many different tribes from what he could tell, and of course the occasional large sea shell. From what he'd seen, those appeared to be a required part of the décor if one lived within a certain proximity to a sea shore.

He could hear Jack and Henry chattering away in the kitchen, already obviously thick as thieves. Keeping those two in line was starting to look like it would be quite a chore. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. After being alone so long and the suddenness of the recent changes in his life… and death… and the prospect of having to deal with being around strangers, and in the body of a mortal no less! It was just a whole lot to process.

He looked up and dropped his hand as the front door suddenly burst open. A woman in her early twenties ran in looking rather frantic as her eyes darted around the room. She opened her mouth to call out, but then sucked a little breath as her eyes locked on Pitch. She just stood there, staring wide-eyed for a long moment, and then slowly started moving closer.

Pitch just watched her cautiously, not sure what he was supposed to do or say. From the red around her eyes and the slight splotchiness of her cheeks beneath the tan of her skin he could tell she had recently been crying and looked quite distressed… and he had no idea what to make of the way she was staring at him. When she was close enough she cautiously reached out and touched his arm, then jerked her hand back as if he'd shocked her.

"Oh my God, you're real!" she said in a tight, astonished voice. "How are you real?"

Pitch had absolutely no clue how to respond to that. Just then Jack and Henry entered the room, Jack holding a tray with the lemonade.

"Pitch!" Jack said in an exasperated tone, "Not that chair!"

Pitch suddenly realized that the chair he was sitting in was positioned close to the fireplace, out of the usual travel path. He'd sat in it out of sheer habit, never once consciously realizing that it was obviously a spirit chair. He quickly stood up, uncertain what he should do. The woman took a little step back when he stood, but her eyes remained locked on him.

"I knew it!" Henry crowed triumphantly, clapping his hands together and bouncing on his toes. "I knew it was you!"

The young woman spun around at the sound of his voice, "Henry? Oh my God! What are you doing here? I've been looking everywhere…" Her eyes caught on Jack and she froze again, her eyes round. "Jack?" She asked in a little tight, incredulous voice.

Pitch was barely able to catch her as she fainted.

"Oh dear." Henry said.

Pitch swept her up, carrying her over and depositing her gently on the couch. "I take it this is the research assistant she told us about?" He asked, backing up a bit so Henry could get to her.

"Yes, yes. This is Tala. It appears she's in quite a state. In all the excitement I completely forgot to call her!" Henry said, looking down at her worriedly. "Tala. Tala, dear, wake up." He said softly, stroking her cheek.

After a few moments her eyes fluttered open. She took in the three men staring down at her and quickly clamped her eyes shut again. "Ok, did I have a stroke or something, or is this just a complete break from reality?" She muttered anxiously. "Or did I get in a car accident on the way here and this is just some bizarre coma dream maybe?"

"No, no, dear. You're just fine." Henry reassured her. "You just fainted."

She cracked her eyes open, "Then how the Hell did they get here? I mean… you… you see them too, right?" She asked worriedly.

"Well of course I do! Don't be silly. They're some friends of an old friend of mine, and they'll be staying with us for a spell. In the pool house."

"But… but that's Jackson Overland Frost!"

Pitch gave a little snort of laughter, "Jackson Overland?"

Jack glared at him, "Those words will never come out of your mouth again!"

Pitch snickered.

"And you're the Ash Father!" She said, staring at Pitch.

"Excuse me, I'm the what?" Pitch replied, all amusement forgotten.

"Oh, don't mind that!" Henry said with a little chuckle, "That's just a little nickname we gave you over the years."

"And who is 'we'?" Pitch asked, brow furrowed.

"The ones of us that could see you, of course." Henry replied as if that should have been obvious. "There's been at least a couple of us in every generation, all the way back to Rose."

Pitch straightened and shifted back, his eyes going wide. "You're Henry Burgess!" He said in shock.

"Wait, what?" Jack asked, looking between them.

"Azrael placed us with one of Rose's descendants." Pitch said softly.

"Seriously? He's family?" Jack asked, obviously thrilled.

"Wait…" Tala said, shifting up and around to sit properly on the couch, "Azrael? As in the Arch Angel of Death and Retribution?"

"Arch angel?" Henry said in surprise, "Lordy, I had no idea… No wonder she's so pretty."

"And Retribution?" Jack asked, looking over at Pitch.

"Oh, you better believe it!" Pitch replied with amusement. "You do not get that woman riled! I suspect 'Manny' was reminded of that particular fact recently."

Jack snickered.

"So Azrael is a woman? But they always portray Azrael as some white guy." Tala said, looking thoroughly overwhelmed.

Henry snorted with amusement and waved it off, "Seems like everyone in that book who's powerful or important is portrayed as a white guy. Who you think wrote it? A bunch of white guys!"

"Oh my God, seriously! What the hell is going on here?" Tala blurted, looking rather confused and thoroughly distraught.

Pitch held out his hand to stop Jack and Henry, who were both about to jump into some kind of undoubtedly rambling explanation. Then he looked down at her. "Do you believe in Immortal spirits?"

"Well of course I do. It's literally my middle name!" She replied. When she saw his confused expression she sighed, "Catori. My middle name is Catori. It's Hopi for 'spirit'. I have mixed blood. I'm kind of a one person intertribal. Ok, not as much as Henry, but…" She shook her head, taking a breath and cutting off her own tangent, "But spirits are not solid!" She said, reaching out and touching his arm before snatching her hand back once more. "And they don't wear flip-flops and concert t-shirts from the eighties!" She said, waving her hand at Jack.

"Well," Pitch said, "They do if they have had their mortality returned to them. Temporarily. At least hopefully it's just temporary."

She just stared at him for a really long minute, then she said, "Ok, you know what? Fine. I'm just gonna roll with it. I'm pretty sure I'm either dead, in a coma or in a psych ward, but whatever the case, I really can't think of any benefit to fighting it." She took a deep breath and seemed much calmer. "So… insanity is a lot different than I imagined. I'm just hanging out with Henry, who I was just arranging hospice care for, one of his ancestors and the Ash Father."

"Seriously, why would you call me the 'Ash Father'?" Pitch asked.

"I think it comes, at least in part, from what Rose wrote on the bottom of one of her drawings." Tala offered with a little shrug. "It was the only thing that still exists that we could ever confirm as being written by her other than her signature on some drawings and documents."

"Rose… wrote something about me?" Pitch asked softly.

Tala nodded. "It was one of the like hundreds of drawings of you I scanned in for the website. I had to be very careful with her drawings because they were so old and the paper was fragile. It's in a special climate controlled case now along with some of the other older drawings."

"Oh! Show him the site!" Henry said excitedly.

"Um… uh, ok… right." She said, glancing around, still sounding a bit out of it. She got up and went over and picked up a laptop from one of the coffee tables, then sat down in a chair, opening it.

"There's a website?" Jack asked, surprised. He might not have firsthand knowledge of the internet, but he'd certainly heard enough about it from the kids to feel at least a bit familiar with it.

"The Burgess family ancestry site." Henry said with obvious pride, "I'm in the process of putting together all known images and information about the Burgess family back to its beginnings, well American beginnings at least, and the founding of the town of Burgess."

Tala gave him a little sideways glance.

"Oh, ok… I'm gathering the information and my lovely assistant Tala is helping and is also making it into one of those world webby things." Henry said with a grin.

"This is the site…" Tala said, calling it up. Pitch and Jack moved behind her to see the screen. She tensed a bit when they leaned closer to see, but then just took a deep breath and appeared to try to ignore the close proximity of two mortal spirits and went on. "There is a page with high resolution scans of all of the family portraits known to exist. They are in chronological order." She said, bringing up the page.

Jack's eyes widened as the top portrait loaded and it was an unmistakable portrait of him!

"Ah, that was one of Benjamin's." Pitch said, "The one you could see in the background of his unrestored painting that we saw in the Burgess house."

"Benjamin Burgess painted that?" Tala asked in surprise.

"Yes, he made a number of paintings of the family. As you can see, he was quite good." Pitch reached out, pointing to an odd little squiggle that blended into the texturing of Jack's shirt, "That was his mark. He didn't like the idea of marring the painting with a signature, so he came up with that little mark that he could hide in the image without detracting from the subject. You'll find it in all of his works, usually somewhere towards the bottom and often worked into a texture like cloth patterns or on one painting of his eldest daughter a bit of her hair formed it."

"Huh!" Tala said, looking at the little mark in surprise. With a few keystrokes and the use of a little touchpad below the laptop keyboard she zoomed in and captured an image of the squiggle and copied it into some kind of note file and saved it before flipping back to the site page and returning it to the regular view. She then went over and used a scroll bar to scroll down the page to the bottom. In the bottom right corner there was a small photo of an old steamer trunk. "This is where we hid your pictures. It's a photo of the trunk they were stored in. Henry wanted those password protected so we could control who could see them." She clicked on the trunk and typed the password in the little box that came up.

"Though it made it a bit out of chronological order, I put that picture of Rose's at the top of the page since it kind of helped explain the name." Tala said, scrolling down just a bit so the whole drawing was showing.

Pitch looked at the drawing. It was unmistakably of him, and in fact was a rather good likeness. At the bottom was written 'His skin has the look of cold ash, but the bright embers in his eyes betray the warmth he hides inside.' Pitch straightened, his eyes a bit watery. "She saw me." He said softly. "I mean I knew she at least glimpsed me a few times… and I held her hand as she died, but…"

"She always saw you." Jack said softly. "Azrael told me, and when you showed me the memories, I saw it. I mean you held her for three whole days before Thaddeus finally came and got her. Did you really think that wouldn't leave an impression?"

"She told you about that?" Pitch said in surprise, glancing over at him.

"She showed me that." He replied softly, then he smiled, "She also found it pretty hilarious when she found out that you never figured out the spirit chair was always for you."

"It was for me?" Pitch asked in surprise.

"Well who else would it have been for?" Henry asked. "Three days, huh?" He said softly. "We never knew exactly how long it was… but she remembered. We call you the Ash Father in part because of what she wrote there and partly because her granddaughter wrote in a journal that Rose always told her that she had three fathers. The one who made her, the one who raised her, and the one who saved her and always watched over her."

"Why would she pretend not to see me?" Pitch said, blinking back tears.

"Because," Henry said, "Any time someone seemed to sense you, you left. She pretended you weren't there because she didn't want you to leave. That's why we all pretended not to see you. Those that could see you always watched the children when you came around, seeing if any of them could see you too. If they spotted one who could, they would take them aside and tell them about you and tell them why they had to keep it a secret and pretend not to see you. It was kind of like a little secret society inside the family. I mean the rest of them knew a bit of it, and some of the people who could see you let stuff spill now and then, but most think it's just an odd little tradition based on a little girl's wild imagination. Well, and some of them with less Native American blood think it's some kind of superstition. My aunt's the one who brought me in on the secret when I saw you when I was just four years old. Her son, my cousin, he was always jealous that we had some secret he wasn't let in on, so out of spite he kept the trunk that we'd kept all the drawings and such about you in over the years when she passed. I only just finally got it when he passed about four months ago. That's why Tala spotted you so easy. She's scanned in a whole trunk load of images of you over the past couple months."

"How many could there possibly have been that could see me?" Pitch asked, obviously a bit stunned.

"Um… I think it was seventy six of us. That we know of from goin through the trunk. Might have been more that didn't leave nothin. Most of them signed and dated their drawings. There's even a couple of drawings I made, but I was pretty young and I'm no artist. Well, I do ok with wood carvin," He said, waving vaguely towards the hand carved Spirit chair, "but not drawin. Oh, well and that's not counting Rose."

Jack couldn't stop smiling, watching Pitch work through this revelation. "Even River saw you."

Pitch's eyes darted over to him in surprise.

"In that last memory you showed me, he stared at you for like half a minute before Rose spotted him and made him look away. I think you scared the crap outta him. Of course from what Azrael says I think he had reason to be worried. She implied you dealt rather harshly with 'unworthy suitors'." Jack said, snickering.

"Sibatekw." Tala said.

They both looked at her. "Huh?" Jack asked.

"If you're talking about Rose's husband, his real name was Sibatekw." Tala said, "We still aren't sure exactly what tribe he was from, but we're fairly certain it was one of the Eastern tribes of the Wabanaki Confederacy. The white folks couldn't pronounce his name. He tried to explain what it meant, which is like a river that divides and then re-merges, separating an island from the land. They heard River and went with that. He was apparently either a really laid back guy or just super into Rose because he just let them call him that, and even used that name on the few documents we've been able to find with his name on them. There was a lot of white washing of Native American names back then."

Pitch nodded, "Yes, that's what Rose called him whenever they were alone. I confess I don't know the name of his tribe… but actually I do know that many of the tribal elders could see me. It was unusual for a member of their tribe to ask to marry not only outside of their tribe, but also someone with so little of the blood. It may have helped some that I stood by her side and stared at them while they deliberated…" he said with a little reminiscent smile.

Jack snickered, imagining Pitch staring down a bunch of tribal elders, daring them to say no.

"Did ya use yer scary face?" Henry asked with a little chuckle.

Pitch looked at him in surprise.

"Sometimes when you first showed up you looked different, but you always changed within a few minutes."

"I'm sorry if I frightened any of you." Pitch said, obviously taken aback that they had seen him like that. "That's a façade I wear that is actually intended to frighten people. It's just a part of who I am. But my appearance tends to change to suit how I feel. Being around the family… it made me feel more human… so I looked more human when I was around them."

Jack slipped his arm around Pitch's waist. He'd kind of suspected something like that… but it was rather touching having it confirmed. Ever since he first saw Pitch's true face it was all he'd seen other than when they were outside Pitch's realm and he had put his defenses back up while around other people.

Tala looked down as the laptop pinged several times. She flipped to her email, then let out a groan. "Oh my God, your granddaughter has informed like every family member on the planet that you are all but dead. They're all blowing up my email asking for updates!"

"Lands, that girl is way too excitable!" Henry grumbled, "Get on that 'chirpy face' thingy and tell her I'm fine."

Tala gave a little snort of amusement. "Seriously, I wouldn't believe me if I said that right now. You're going to have to call her yourself. I doubt she'd believe anyone else. Besides, that way if I really have gone around the bend at least I'm not informing your whole family that I've completely lost it. Actually, call the hospital first. They had the place locked down and were searching it top to bottom for you last I heard. Wait much longer and they'll probably have the cops out looking for you, if they aren't already."

"Oh, tarnation! People are so high-strung nowadays!" He grumbled. "Where'd I leave that phone?" He said, wandering back towards the kitchen.

Tala got up, closing the laptop and returning it to the table she got it from, then turned and looked them over. "So… you're staying in the pool house?"

They nodded.

"Like… both of you…?"

"Yes." Pitch said, looping his arm around Jack's waist and pulling him a bit closer.

She let out a little snort. "Figures!"

"What does?" Jack asked.

"It's like they always say, all the hot guys are either gay, taken or both. Guess it goes for spirits too." She suddenly blushed, "And I just told two spirits that I think they're hot." She said, obviously completely mortified. "I'm leaving now. I'm going to… Um… I'm going to go to the store… and pretend I'm not insane while I buy groceries to feed two spirits." She went over to the door, then glanced back towards them one last time, then opened the door, "Ok then…" She muttered as she quickly left.

Jack reached over and picked up a glass off the tray he'd brought in. "Lemonade?" he offered with a grin.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"Where did you learn to swim like that?" Jack asked, scrubbing his hair dry with his towel.

"Not a whole lot for children to do where I grew up. We spent many a summer's day in the river." Pitch replied as he dried off as well. "That water might not have been as clear, but at least it didn't smell like chemicals."

"I kinda like the smell." Jack replied with a grin.

"Well, that's good." Pitch replied, "Because you're going to have to spend a bit more time in that pool before you get anywhere near the ocean."

"Oh come on! I can swim!" Jack said a bit petulantly.

"Yes, I believe they call that 'doggy paddling'. And where did you learn that other move? Watching a frog swim?"

Jack shrugged, "Frogs swim pretty good, you know. Besides, it's not like I had a lot of people around to teach me. Most of the people I grew up around avoided water. I mean like not only couldn't swim, they didn't even like to bathe! They got pretty ripe."

"Yet another good reason to swim, especially in the summer."

"Ya, well they thought I was 'brazenly risking my life' for even wading in the water, let alone swimming in it." He let out a little amused breath, "In fact, they probably used my death as a 'cautionary tale' to try to keep the other kids away from water."

"Probably." Pitch replied as he slipped the sandals back on, "I admit I did often have call to frighten the children a bit about water, but it was more to encourage them to learn how to swim and stay out of the deeper water until they did. It's a fine line between that and making them afraid of water, so I had to tread carefully. Most people have no idea how hard that can be."

Jack smiled. Pitch rarely talked about his 'job'. "Hey," Jack said, hurrying his pace a bit to catch up with Pitch as he opened the sliding glass door. "I didn't spot that before. You have another scar on your back." He said, tracing the long thin line that went from just below Pitch's right shoulder at an angle all the way down until it disappeared on his left side near his waist.

Pitch reached back, feeling the end of it. "Oh yes. I'd forgotten about that one. Ares. He snuck up behind me or he never would have been able to manage that. He's a real bastard."

Jack let out a little snort of amusement, but then sobered, "Hold on, he's not a part of our belief system. How could he have hurt you?"

"Gods can cross belief systems if they have a strong enough desire to, but they are required to get permission first. Most gods feel asking permission is beneath them, so it very rarely happens." Pitch said as he closed the door behind them.

"But why would he come after you?" Jack asked, brow furrowed.

"Well, he's the god of war. Well A god of war I should say. Unfortunately, he doesn't exactly have the same moral standards that most of that Olympian lot does. He got some idiot to conquer a city, then he was trying to coax him into sacrifice all of the captives as a tribute to him. Several hundred women and children included. On the night before the slaughter was to take place I visited the man with a nightmare. I showed him his legacy… showed him being remembered only as the man who slaughtered helpless women and children, all the good he'd ever done being forgotten. In the morning he sacrificed the captured men to Ares, but let the women and children go free as a show if his 'benevolence'."

"You can give adults nightmares?" Jack asked in surprise.

"I've only done it a handful of times." Pitch replied, "Scaring adults while they are awake is simple enough. I just have to tap into the primitive fear center of their brains. Crafting a nightmare to get them to make the right decision or change their minds if they've already made a bad one… that's much more difficult. With children, the concepts are much simpler, more basic. Play with fire and your house could burn down, that kind of thing. With adults it's a whole production. In order for it to be affective the dream has to be complex. I have to delve further into what will motivate them and what drives them to build a narrative that will get the desired results. It's a rather painstaking and arduous task. The only times I've done it was at Azrael's request, in order to protect the lives of children."

"So this Ares guy just crossed belief systems without permission and tried to kill you just because you protected some women and kids?" Jack asked, baffled that anyone would feel that was worth killing him.

Pitch let out a little snort of amusement. "I somehow doubt it was without permission… though that wasn't anything I could ever prove. See Manny was in charge by that point, and he has never liked me. Still, I doubt Ares would have gone so far to try to exact revenge if I hadn't once been one of the 'chattel' he lorded over. See the gods were never human, never mortal. They came into being as gods. I think that's why they can often be so cruel. To most of them mortals are no more than playthings. They're like ants to them, to toy with or crush at their whim. Gods often resent it when one of their little playthings is given immortality and raised to a level where they no longer have power over them. Of course I needn't worry about that particular god ever crossing into our belief system again. That was the first time I ever saw Azrael get truly angry. It was an awe inspiring sight, indeed."

Jack chuckled. He'd only known Azrael as a calm, patient, seemingly serene person. It was hard for him to imagine her getting angry, but if she did, he imagined it would be quite frightening. In his experience it was always the quiet ones that turned out to be the most formidable when they were finally pushed too far.

"She's the only one even the gods fear," Pitch continued, "because she is the only true immortal. As we have both now witnessed, even if we die, our death isn't 'final' until she says it is. She is the only one who can cross a soul over into whatever lies beyond this existence. She is literally the bridge between the planes, so she cannot die… but gods can."

Jack furrowed his brow, "But she said that if I had plummeted into an active volcano I would be toast. Forces of nature that strong are out of her control."

"You'd be toast, yes, but that doesn't mean she would have no say in what happened to you even if something that catastrophic occurred. It's just that there would be nothing left of your body to resurrect in that situation, so she would have to either pass your soul to the next plane or make your soul linger in Limbo. So if you plan on diving into any volcanoes, be sure to stay on her good side!"

Jack chuckled and nodded.

"You were attacked by a God?"

They both looked over, just now noticing Tala standing there, obviously having just set down some bags of groceries on the kitchen counter.

"Yes, well only that once." Pitch replied evenly.

Tala approached him somewhat hesitantly, looking at his back. "That looks like it must have really hurt."

"You have no idea!" Pitch replied with an amused breath. "Wounds from immortal weapon are vastly more painful than those from mortal weapons. Believe me, I would know. I couldn't tell you how many times I was slashed, cut and stabbed as a mortal soldier, but none of that ever came anywhere close to what it felt like when he left that little scratch."

"Oh, my God…" She said, looking at his chest and back to his back, "This looks like it went straight through you. Did he actually stab you?"

"Oh, that wasn't Ares. That was…" Pitch was cut off by Jack's hand covering his mouth.

"I think she's heard quite enough name dropping. You tell her who stabbed you and her brain will explode." Jack said mirthfully, dropping his hand.

Pitch took in Tala's wide eyes and nodded to Jack, "Good call. That probably would be the last straw." He returned his gaze to Tala. "Let's just say it was someone who never would have tried to kill me. I forced his hand, quite literally. That's how I became mortal again."

"You became mortal on purpose?" She asked in surprise.

"No…" Pitch replied, "Actually I thought I would simply die, as most mortals would should they be stabbed through the chest. In fact, I would have, had Azrael not refused to reap me." He took in her confused expression. "I didn't necessarily want to die, I was trying to save Jack. Of course I quite obviously failed at even accomplishing that much."

"Pitch…" Jack said achingly.

"No, it's ok. I understand." Pitch said, cutting him off. "Believe me, I understand completely." He said, looping his arm around Jack's waist and pulling him close.

Jack wrapped his arms around him, his heart aching as his hand came to rest on the scar North's blade had left on his back. If that thin cut across his back had been so painful, what had it felt like to get stabbed straight through the chest? And Pitch had done that to himself voluntarily just to try to save him!

Pitch saw Tala edging uneasily back towards the counter. "I'm sorry." He said, releasing Jack. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. It's just been a bit of an emotional time for us… and quite frankly, if I'm to be honest, the idea of being mortal again is a bit terrifying." He said, reaching over and grabbing the shirt he'd left on the back of one of the kitchen chairs and pulling it back on, neatly hiding all but the very end of the scar on his chest.

Jack smiled at that, relieved that he wasn't the only one who felt that way.

"That's ok." Tala quickly said, going over and starting to unpack the groceries, obviously trying to distract herself from thinking about the situation too much. "I… I guess being mortal would be kind of frightening if you're not used to it. Um… while I was at the store I realized that I never asked you what kind of food you liked."

"Well… I'm not really sure." Pitch replied musingly, "There's vastly more varieties of food available now, little of which was available to me when I was last mortal. The food I ate was rather plain. Bread, fruits, vegetables, fish… far too much fish if you ask me. I wasn't overly fond of it, but it's pretty much the only protein that was available if you weren't rich. As a soldier my diet had some meat in it… but I'm not entirely sure what the meat came from, and I didn't care to ask."

"Ok…" She said, looking over at Jack.

"Oh I'll eat anything." Jack replied with a smile.

"I didn't mean to sound picky." Pitch quickly noted, "I'd be willing to try anything as well… I was just saying what I would be familiar with. I'm more than willing to widen my palate. Just perhaps keep it light on the fish? Unless meat is still prohibitively expensive of course. At the very least I'd wager you have better than simple salt to use for seasoning."

"Well, you're in luck, because I didn't buy any fish. I got bread and vegetables and there was some stew meat on sale. It's cow. How about some beef stew for dinner?" She offered.

"Works for me!" Jack replied eagerly.

Pitch just nodded.

"Ok. Good. I'll go ahead and get started on that. Hopefully Henry will be back by the time it's done. He called me earlier and said they dragged him back to the hospital, but they have a transit that will bring him back home once they're done running tests on him."

"Yes, he was quite displeased when they showed up and insisted on him come in for testing." Pitch said.

"Oh ya, he was real upset they wouldn't just take his word for it that he was fine. Of course he was saying he was fine while he was lying there…" Her throat tightened up and she fell silent, her eyes a bit watery.

"I'm sure he really is fine." Pitch said softly.

She just took a breath, quickly nodding. "If the archangel of Death says he's fine I'm certainly not going to argue it." She said with a somewhat forced smile.

"You and Henry seem pretty close." Jack said.

"Oh, I've known him since I was a little kid. Everybody in the neighborhood loved the 'crazy old coot' who was always surfing! I lived just like four houses down with my Nan. My grandmother, that is, she just didn't like being called a grandparent any more than Henry does. Everyone calls him Pops. His eldest son moved back here when he had kids, and Henry's grandson David and I were seeing each other all through high school, and I really thought… but David broke it off when he went off to college. He said long distance relationships never work. Henry's never quite forgiven him for that. We may not be blood, but, between you and me, sometimes I think he likes me more than he does David. Probably helps that my major is American history. And yes, that was probably because of Henry. He always made the past come to life with these amazing stories. It was like he'd actually been there. You should hear some of his stories about Roosevelt!" She said with a far off smile.

"So you're in college?" Jack asked curiously.

She looked over at him, "Oh! No. Not right now. I do plan to go back to it, but… I mean my Nan died when I was about nineteen. I had been able to start college early, but I'd only gotten in two semesters. I had to sell the house to pay off all the bills, and I didn't even have enough left over to get a place of my own, let alone go back to college. Henry's family had been trying to convince him to hire a nurse to look in on him ever since his wife passed, so when he found out about my situation he immediately offered me a job, including room and board. I wasn't a trained nurse or anything, but I'd been taking care of my Nan since I was a kid, so they couldn't really say I wasn't qualified. Besides, they couldn't even convince him to have a nurse looking in on him once or twice a week, and I was willing to live here full time, so it was a much better deal than they'd ever hoped for. I've been working for him ever since. I had enough money saved up to go back to college about a year and a half ago, but… I mean what better training could I get than being his research assistant? And his family thinks that's just what he calls me so he doesn't have to admit he has to be looked after, but I really am his research assistant. Yes I clean and do the laundry and cook, but that's just what I'd always done for Nan and now for Henry, so that doesn't even seem like part of the job. That's more like just earning my keep. He's taught me so much, and he's pretty much the closest thing to family that I have left. I don't know what I'm going to do when he's…" Her throat tightened up again and she went back to sorting out the groceries, her eyes very watery.

"How many potatoes will you need?" Jack asked, pulling over the bag of potatoes.

"Oh, you don't have to…" She started.

Jack waved it off. "Potatoes were always my job when it came to cooking. I was pretty good at all the peeling and chopping, and I'm fairly certain I can remember how."

"Is there anything else you need cut up?" Pitch asked.

She looked at him, trying hard not to smirk. "You used to do a lot of food prep as well?"

"No, not all that much, but I have yet to find a knife that I could not wield." Pitch replied with a smile.

"Ok then…" Tala said with a little chuckle.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

They had just finished setting the table when they heard Henry come in the door. "I tell ya," He grumbled as he walked into the kitchen, "They must be pretty bad doctors if they're this amazed that one of their patients recovered!"

Tala let out a little snort of laughter, "Henry! Come on, you can't expect doctors to understand angelic intervention!"

"Meh." Henry said with a little shrug. "Somethin smells good."

"We made stew." Tala said, bringing over a plate with a loaf of French bread cut into quarters on it, setting it in the middle of the table.

"'We'? Henry asked curiously.

"Yes." She replied, "Jack is very good with potatoes, and Pitch… he's actually frighteningly good with a knife."

Pitch chuckled softly while Jack grinned.

Jack brought over a pitcher of iced tea and a stack of glasses and started filling the glasses and setting them by each place setting while Tala and Pitch brought over the bowls of stew.

Once everything was on the table they all took their places. Tala had gotten a bit more used to them and at least wasn't still staring all the time, but it still felt a little awkward, so silence reigned as they settled into their meals.

After a few minutes Pitch looked up, realizing that the others were all watching him. He glanced around at them, noting the spoons in their hands, then set down his bowl and the bread he'd been using like a spoon a bit self-consciously. He picked up his spoon, pointedly keeping his attention on the stew.

"Oop! Slippery little bugger!" Henry grumbled.

Pitch looked up, seeing a pea rolling across the table, leaving a thin little trail of soup. He glanced up at Henry, seeing he was trying to get some of the stew up onto the bit of bread he was holding.

"How ya keep it on there like that?" Henry asked, looking over at Pitch.

Pitch glanced at the other two and saw them smiling with amusement.

Pitch gave Henry a little smile, picking up his bread and ripping off a fresh piece, "You need a piece that's a bit wider." He said, showing him the piece of bread for demonstration, "And eat the soft bit from the middle first so the crust is more concave. And if you pick up the bowl and hold it closer you can catch anything that gets away without losing part of your meal."

Jack eagerly picked up his bread and tore off a strip.

Tala snickered, then shrugged, "When in Rome…" she said, picking up her bread.

"Greece, actually," Pitch replied, "but you're in the general geographic neighborhood."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 - 0

Jack found himself pacing a little, feeling unexpectedly anxious. Pitch had let him get freshened up first, and he had to admit the indoor plumbing was worlds above what he'd had to deal with. Still, ever since Pitch had gone into the bathroom he'd been thinking about what he knew was going to happen next. He'd never had sex as a mortal, and he couldn't help but wonder how different it might be. Would he even like it? He'd gotten glimpses of men having sex a couple of times before and it kinda looked like it hurt. Of course he wasn't very experience with interpreting those particular types of facial expressions. And of course there was the fact that Pitch had mentioned the first time they were together that sex between Magical beings wasn't the same as it was for mortals.

He took off his t-shirt distractedly and sat on the side of the bed. The springs in the bed made a soft creaking sound beneath him and it actually startled him a bit. He wasn't used to weighing enough to make much of an impression on anything.

He quickly stood back up as the door to the bathroom opened.

Pitch saw the quick movement and let out a little amused breath. He came over, setting a washcloth and a small bottle on the nightstand, then reached over, slipping his arms around Jack and pulling him close. He kissed him, then drew back a bit, resting his forehead again Jack's. "Don't worry." He said softly. "You may be a virgin, but I'm not, and I know what I'm doing."

"Um, I'm not a virgin!" Jack replied with somewhat forced levity. "Far from it! You made sure of that, if you don't recall!"

"Maybe not your soul, but your mortal body is." Pitch replied as he unfastened Jack's shorts. "Immortal bodies work on an entirely different set of rules. As a mortal, if this is not done right, it can be quite painful. But as I said, I know what I'm doing."

Jack just nodded wordlessly. The feel of Pitch's hands on him was making him quite impatient to try despite the nagging worry.

When Pitch finished striping him he gave him one last kiss, then shifted back. "Get on the bed." He said softly. "On your back."

Jack got up on the bed and settled down on his back, then looked up, watching Pitch strip, a little tingle of anticipation going through him.

Pitch picked up the little bottle and got on the bed next to him, settling down beside him and setting the bottle on the bed next to him.

"Aren't you going to turn out the lights?" Jack asked, his heart rate increasing as Pitch started running his hands over him.

"No." Pitch replied, "My night vision isn't as good as a mortal, and I want to watch you."

That sent a wicked twinge through Jack's loins.

Pitch started kissing him, then after a moment started shifting down, kissing the side of his neck. He slowly made his way down Jack's chest, kissing and licking. He made it down to Jack's navel and teased it with his tongue. Jack let out a little involuntary giggle, then looked down at him. "Um… aren't you going to… you know…" Jack said a bit bashfully, not quite willing to ask him outright despite how much they had already done together. Yes, he was enjoying what Pitch was doing, but he was kind of eager to know what the actual sex would feel like.

Pitch let out a little amused breath, which whispered over Jack's skin in a way that made him tingle. "Not while you're still this tense." Pitch said softly, "But I know how to loosen you up."

Jack let out a little surprised sound and lost any thought of complaining as Pitch shifted down a bit further and took him in his mouth. His eyes slid shut blissfully and he grabbed ahold of Pitch's hair. Pitch held him down, going at a maddeningly slow pace, but it felt so incredible he couldn't possibly complain. He barely even noticed when Pitch started rubbing him with warm, oiled fingers. He tensed a bit and let out a gasp a few minutes later when he felt one of the fingers enter him. Pitch just kept up the same slow pace, waiting until the tension left him before he started moving the finger.

Jack couldn't help but writhe shamelessly, trying to get him further in. When the second finger found its way in he cried out, but not with pain. "Pitch, please!" He pleaded after a few more maddening minutes of that.

Pitch finally relented, releasing him and starting to kiss and lick his way up his body, shifting over on top of him.

When Pitch finally got back up to his mouth Jack wrapped his legs around him and ground himself up against him as he kissed him, embarrassed by how desperately he wanted him, but unable to help himself. It was strange tasting himself on Pitch's tongue, but in an odd way he kind of liked it as their tongues danced over each other.

He could feel Pitch rubbing against him for a bit, then Jack broke the kiss with a little cry of surprise when he felt Pitch push his way in a bit. There was a little initial flash of pain, but then that went away. He looked up, seeing Pitch watching him. He couldn't look away from that intense gaze as Pitch slowly, patiently worked himself further in. When he finally managed to get all the way in, his hips pressing up against Jack, Jack let out a little strangled groan.

"God, did you get even bigger?" Jack panted mirthfully.

Pitch let out a little amused breath. "There's just a bit more friction at first. That goes away pretty quickly."

Pitch started moving some and it did indeed become a lot easier after a few strokes. Before long Jack was thrusting up to meet him, trying to push him even deeper. Jack became aware of the sound of the bedsprings beneath them creaking in time with Pitch and for some reason it sounded unbelievably erotic. Jack closed his eyes, listening to the rhythmic creaking as the pleasure kept spiraling higher. Pitch let out a low groan and it went right through Jack.

"Pitch!" Jack gasped out pleadingly.

Pitch picked up the pace until the whole bed was protesting. Jack arched up and cried out as a rush of ecstasy rocketed through him. Pitch kept pounding into him for a few more minutes as Jack writhed and cried out beneath him before he finally tensed. Jack cried out again, the world getting a bit gray around the edges when he felt a rush of heat flooding into him as Pitch let out a deep groan.

Jack panted blissfully for breath as the gray of impending unconsciousness slowly faded away, reveling in the feel of Pitch's body lying heavily on top of him, their hot, sweat slickened skin pressed together.

After a few minutes, Pitch shifted up some, resting on his elbows and gazing down at him. He gently brushed the sweat matted hair from the side of Jack's face.

"I love you, too." Pitch said softly.

Jack's eyes went wide.

"I didn't really get a chance to respond before." He said, gazing down at him lovingly. "I mean, I'd like to think that my actions spoke for themselves, but I know some people prefer to hear the words, so in case there was any doubt…"

"Stop talking." Jack whispered, pulling his head down and kissing him passionately.

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A/N – If you liked this chapter, please review. It's the only payment us fanfiction writers get for our efforts. This chapter was even longer, but really needed to be. I've tried working on the next chapter already, but it's a bit of a struggle and I've kind of come to a standstill motivation-wise, so any inspiration you can send my way (in the form of reviews preferably) would be greatly appreciated.