Chapter 5

"Pitch."

The Nightmare King raises his head from where he is focused on a particularly stubborn nightmare that just won't give the right sort of fear. He twists his fingers and the shadowy blob goes round his arm before coiling into his robes.

"Pitch!"

"Yes?" he drawls as Jack enters the room, her head a bright spot in the otherwise darkness of his home. But her expression... "Is something wrong?" Pitch asks.

"You wouldn't tear my heart out and feed it to your shadows, would you?"

"...Have you been bothering Hallows again?" Pitch asks with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Jack huffs. "Besides, I haven't even seen him in months."

"Then why the sudden interest in dismemberment?"

"That isn't an answer to my question." Jack's mouth is set in a pensive line, but her eyes...

Oh, Pitch can feel her fear; of his answer, of possibly losing his friendship, of the kangaroo being right... He bites back the rush of anger at finding the thrice-damned Pooka is what has Jack in this state. Pitch rises, and his anger increases at the flinch that garners from Jack.

"We're alike, you and I," he muses. "We're kindred spirits, Jack, and I value your companionship far too much to ever harm you, much less in such a barbarous manner."

"You mean it?" Jack asks softly, taking a tentative step towards the older spirit.

"I'm sure you've heard all manner of tales about me, and they are true." He pauses and flashes a small but sincere smile at Jack. "I can be cruel, vicious, and I have more than earned the title Nightmare King. But only," he emphasis, "to those deserving or needing it. And you, Jack..." Pitch steps into Jack's personal space and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "You are in no way deserving my ire."

He leans forward and places a soft kiss on her forehead. "You are in no need of nightmares to warn you of danger, or phantoms to prevent you from doing something stupid." Jack's face is flushed lavender and she looks fit to burst - with either embarrassment or enjoyment, Pitch is not quite sure. Later, he'll blame the fact that Jack does look quite adorable. "Would you like to help me?"

Jack shoots him a quizzical look, which looks odd coupled with her flushed cheeks. "Help with what?"

He grabs her by the wrist and pulls her down to sit next to him. "The fear in this one," he says as he draws out the nightmare he was working on, "is not quite what I'd like it to be."

"W-who is it for?" Jack stutters, her face a darker shade.

"No one in particular, but I was thinking of disobedient and unruly children who have no respect for authority."

Jack glowers. "Is that supposed to be a warning?"

"Hmm?" Pitch frowns. He chuckles at the disgruntled look on her face. "Oh, no, Jack. Actually, I was thinking more in response to this recent spate of ill-mannered adolescents."

The winter spirit shrugs. "Kids misbehave, it's how they learn. And sometimes it's good not to listen to adults; they don't always know what's best."

Pitch 'hmm's. "Personal experience?" he inquires in a neutral tone.

Jack scoffs and scratches at the ground with the butt of her staff. "More like my entire existence that I've actually interacted with... people." She gives him a shy little grin. "'cept you. It's funny, cause everyone says you're mean and evil, but you're not. Well," she adds as an afterthought, "you can be mean sometimes. But not like the stories say."

"You've given me no reason to act so," Pitch repeats his earlier words. He allows the nightmare a tad more freedom, and its shape becomes a bit more defined as eerie yellow eyes blink first at Pitch, then Jack. It drifts towards her, but he doesn't allow it to go more than a couple inches.

Jack hesitantly raises her free hand, but does not touch the shadowy form. "It's cold," she notes, somewhat surprised. "Why can I feel that?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Pitch asks, his curiosity piqued.

"Cause I'm a winter spirit," Jack says, rolling her eyes. "I don't feel the cold, and it doesn't affect me."

"Really?" Pitch lets the nightmare move, and it wriggles a little before coiling around Jack's hand, though not quite touching her icy pale skin. "How interesting."

"Why is it so..." Jack fumbles for a moment, "...friendly? Did you figure out how to put some of Sandman's sand in there?" She brings her staff up, the crook of it level with the nightmare. The shadowy mass suddenly surges around it, a shock of ice threads through it, and the nightmare falls to the ground frozen.

"Well," Pitch says after a shocked silence, "that was odd."

A/N: In case it wasn't obvious, "Hallows" refers to the Spirit of Halloween (but not Samhain), Lantarn Hallows. He's a bit of a dick.

Hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and remember, reviews/constructive criticism are very much welcome ;3