Chapter 7

Jack sighs as the sounds of battle continue, only slightly muffled by the falling snow."You'd think they'd learn," she mutters, twirling her staff while she lies in the crook the branches of a tree provides her. She isn't sure why exactly the humans are fighting, but the Russian winter is unforgiving, and even if she isn't putting her all into this storm, soon enough the French will either pull back or die. She grimaces at the screams that follow the cannons. It's really a toss up as to whether exposure or enemy fire kills them.

"Ghastly, isn't it?"

Jack looks down and grins at the sight of the tall, foreboding figure below her. "Pitch!" she greets him happily. "Whatcha doing?"

"Enjoying the meals your handiwork is providing me for the time being," Pitch replies dryly with a tinge of macabre humor.

Jack scowls, ignoring the way something inside her flutters at the thought of feeding Pitch. "It's not all mine. If they'd just wise up and leave they wouldn't be dying so fast."

"Mortals are nothing if not stubborn," Pitch comments. He inhales deeply, and his nose crinkles ever so slightly. "Though the same kind of fear does get dull after a while."

"I bet," Jack drawls, and Pitch rolls his eyes.

"Your sarcasm is unneeded."

"But it sure adds to a conversation!" she adds cheekily.

"Regardless, if the storm worsens, I'm sure they'd retreat that much quicker."

"That's what I thought when I first started," Jack huffs. "But their commander is an idiot or crazy; he keeps 'em going no matter the weather." She scowls, wishing she could give the man in charge a piece of her mind, or maybe acute frostbite. "Adults are so stupid," she mutters. "I like kids way better."

"I suppose they have their own charm," Pitch concedes.

Jack jumps a little, having been caught up in her thoughts and not noticing that her companion moved from the ground to the branch next to her. "They're a lot more fun at any rate," she says, shifting so Pitch has room to sit beside her.

"Oh yes; smelly, squalling, selfish little brats sound like so much fun," Pitch needles, still standing.

Jack frowns. "They're not that bad," she defends. "And I think you're thinking about babies."

"Mortals in general," Pitch insists as he lowers himself to sit next to her. "Hypocritical and a waste of space; I don't know why the Guardians or anyone else bothers."

"I think," Jack starts before she cuts herself off, tapping her staff pensively against the tree trunk.

"You think...?" Pitch prompts.

"Well, adults can be pretty bad, right?" Jack says slowly. "But kids aren't, and sometimes they're even all right after they grow up. So, the Guardians, and others, they try to keep the kids from going too bad, y'know? So, it's like we try to make them happy so they have something to hold onto later." She ducks her head because even in her peripheral vision she can feel Pitch's stare practically burning a hole in her, and it's far too intense. "Happy memories... they can do a lot of good," she finishes wistfully.

"You give them far too much credit," Pitch says, his brow furrowing. "Though I must admit, that I an interesting way to look at it."

"Do you have any?" Jack asks curiously. "Memories, I mean, from before you were Pitch Black. Did the Moon make you too?"

"...it's not something I like to talk about," the elder spirit admits after a silence so long Jack feared she had offended him. "What I can remember... it isn't pleasant, and even if it wasn't exactly me, I don't enjoy knowing how much damage was caused." He looks up in the general direction of the sky, for the swirling snow makes it impossible to see much farther beyond them. "There is no love lost between us, in any case."

Jack isn't sure how to respond to that, so she just takes Pitch's right hand in her left and squeezes it. "If it makes you feel any better, I've been responsible for more than a few icy graves," Jack says with a nervous smile.

Pitch huffs a little, and leans in against the winter spirit's shoulder. "Gallows humor doesn't suit you; I think I liked the sarcasm better."

"Persnickety, aren't you?" Jack teases.

"I didn't know you had such a large vocabulary," Pitch says with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk.

"Just cause I'm not older than dirt doesn't mean I don't know things," Jack replies haughtily. She maintains the superior look for a moment before dissolving into giggles.

Pitch gasps with faux indignation. "Making fun of the elderly? Jack, I'm shocked!"

The winter spirit just continues to laugh, mainly because Pitch actually cracked a joke, and one that didn't involve death or other bodily harm. Right now, not even the muffled cannon fire and agonized screams can dampen her mood.

A/N: Ahahaha, I am so very sorry for the long wait; I hope you enjoyed fluffy bonding time accompanied by death and mayhem.

Also, here is a little look into my thought process that wasn't "AGH MY BABIES WHY ARE YOU CUTE UGH MY BAES" as I was proofreading this chapter:

"did the moon make you too?"

jack
honey

pitch murdered the moon's parents and slaughtered most of the people in his empire

"it's not something i like to talk about" is such an UNDERSTATEMENT you have no idea