Chapter 9

They sit like that for a long while, Jack shivering and Pitch clutching her close, a silent reassurance that he is here and won't let anything else happen to her. He also says this aloud, if not exactly verbatim.

Some time after she has gone silent, just sitting with Pitch and laying her head against his chest, she says, in a tiny whisper so as not to aggravate her throat, "I had a sister."

Pitch "hmm?"s in interest.

"Her name is - was - Emma," Jack continues, enjoying the way breath rattles in Pitch's chest against her ear. "It snowed for a couple days and the pond was finally frozen so we convinced Mother to let us go play." A bittersweet smile plays across her face. "Mother did some work as seamstress and I took odd jobs around town but it was still barely enough to get shoes, let alone ice skates. My feet were tougher than Em's though, so I went barefoot."

"I wasn't aware teenage girls doing that sort of thing was accepted at that time," Pitch says, quiet in the entirety of the cave but almost deafening with how close he is to Jack, and she fights off a shiver that has nothing to do with cold or lingering shocks.

"Father died four summers before and Mother didn't want to remarry," she tells Pitch, nostalgia in her voice. "The guy trying to court her was a real creep, so I'm glad she didn't do it in the end. We moved, went with a wagon train headed north and settled in the woods near Burgess. Mother knew we'd have all kinds of well meaning folks bothering us, so we cut my hair and started calling me "Jack"."

"So what was your name before?" Pitch asks, curious.

Jack laughs. "Jacqueline. So it was really just a nickname, and if Em or Mother called me "Jackie" from time to time it wouldn't seem too strange. It cut down on the amount of people who would've tried to court her or me, so it worked pretty well." Pitch's arms hold her a little tighter and she relaxes into him further.

"Would you rather be called that from now on?" he asks and Jack's thrown for a moment before she shakes her head.

"Nah," she rasps, her cheeks frosting. "You've been calling me Jack fro how many years now?"

"It was 1787 when we met," Pitch says softly, a note of fondness in his voice.

"What year is it now?" she asks.

"Not entirely sure, but the French tried to invade Russia in 1812."

"So at least twenty years," Jack deduces. "I've been Jack frost longer than I was ever Jacqueline Overland. It suits me better anyways." She turns in Pitch's arms and looks up at him. "But thank you for asking."

"Of course," he replies, silvery gold eyes locked on her. "You're my friend, your well being is important to me."

Jack's cheeks light up in purple and dark blue frost and she burrows back down into Pitch's chest. "Thanks," she mumbles, fairly sure he can hear her no matter how quiet she is. The entire day has been exhausting, one adrenaline rush after another, and Jack can feel it finally catching up to her. "Do you mind if I sleep?" she asks, eyes already drooping, and feels Pitch go stiff. "You won't give me nightmares," she assures him. "I trust you."

With that matter settled she lets herself drift off into warm blackness, feeling quite comfortable in Pitch's arms.

It doesn't take long until Jack's emotions fade to the dull static of those fast asleep. Pitch is still frazzled by this entire day and is finding it hard to keep his own feelings in rein, because normally frightening Jack is barely acceptable, but right now it's absolutely prohibited.

She's light in his arms, almost drowning in the shadowy blanket he'd gathered her into when he'd found her in the water, frost layering over the water as she shrieked despite the condition of her throat. His own heart had nearly stopped at the reek of fear and despair coming from her, because Jack should not feel that way-!

Pitch breathes deeply through his nose. It's no good getting upset right now when all it will do is possibly agitate Jack further. She's only just fallen asleep and she trusts him not to-

There's something warm in his chest and he's not sure what it is, since Jack isn't as cold as she normally is but even with only his robe and the one layer of the blanket she is still chilled. Pitch can feel his cheeks heating at the reminder that Jack is indeed still naked - and really does she have no modesty? - and he should see about getting her some clothes.

It takes a little maneuvering with the support of a couple of shadows for him to stand with Jack cradled in his arms. There is a moment where he's afraid she may wake when he goes from cross legged with her in his lap to lifting her as he stands, but the events of the day have been tiring and she stays asleep.

Pitch lets go a near silent sigh of relief and looks down at her. In his arms she's so small and vulnerable looking. Granted, she is roughly a foot shorter than him, but there is something about her face, slack in slumber, that makes the warm feeling in his chest twist and tighten. Her being in his arms feels... right somehow, like bantering on rooftops or battlefields does, or the way she handled his experimental sand, curious and interested, and how beautifully their powers meshed.

His gaze fixes on the bruising that is very noticeable on her pale throat and on her face and this time he lets his anger fill the shadows.

"Go," he orders quietly, voice intense. "Find whoever did this." The living shadows obey and heed their master's words, following the distinctive trail of Jack's emotions to trace her steps before she came to Pitch. Another shadow cloaks Pitch, ferrying him and his armful to another part of the network of caves that make up his lair.

While Pitch has never had much use for a bed, or for sleep at all beyond his work, he has had guests in the past, human and otherwise, who require a soft surface for sleep. The fact that human tales of the Bogeyman have recently begun to feature him as something that dwells beneath beds has no bearing at all here.

Pitch gently lays Jack down on the bed, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear and covering her further with an actual blanket. It's a thin thing meant for hot summer nights and he does not want Jack to overheat. He spends a few more moments watching her sleep, the dull static of emotions of her sleeping mind the only indication she is not dead since, as Jack said earlier, she does not need to breathe.

His fists clench. He has half a mind to go and start shouting at the Moon again, but there's no guarantee he would even get an answer, mysterious as the lunar busybody is. No matter; his main concern is Jack, and keeping her safe and making certain no one harms her. He can yell at conniving rulers much later, when Jack's well enough to yell with him.

A/N: Apologies for the wait everyone! Work and jewelry and my other stories have kept me busy ^^;; In an effort to keep from having update gaps too large, I'm going to try to complete one chapter for a (large) story each week - right now I'm trying to finish AWW and Schismatic, my HP/APH crossover and attempt at non-cracky DCMK respectively, and I've recently updated AWW, so I'm going to try to finish the chapter for Schismatic this upcoming week, and then AWW or Shadow Bride the next week and the other the following week. So hopefully, there should only be a three week gap between updates instead of months ^^;;;

Do you know how much information there is about winters, etc. in North America during the 1600-1800s? NOT MUCH or at least not as much as I was hoping. Incidentally, during the medieval period until about mid-1800s/early 1900s was something called "the Little Ice Age" by early scientists it's really interesting and possibly subplot related (I haven't decided yet). And you may have noted that the timeline changed and that is bc when I first started writing this I had completely forgotten when Napoleon tried to invade Russia, I was under the impression it happened much later during the 1800s I'm not sure why but I'm going to blame Hetalia even tho it probably it actually isn't involved.

also during the last bit of Pitch seething at the moon I was getting distinct Cecil fuming about Steve Carlsberg vibes (also pitch totally had a phase where he'd go and yell at the moon about everything (there was a lot of swearing and throwing things involved)).

Replies to anon reviews (from oldest to newest):

Guest: Yeah, Jack without human memories doesn't have much in the way of society's ingrained taboos x3 As to whether this will change now that she's remembering things, well, we'll just have to see ;3

icypoolthewarrio: Non-genderbent BlackIce can be pretty good if written correctly - I'm assuming what you're so against is the way a lot of these fics portray their relationship as an abusive one and either dismiss or romanticize Pitch's actions. It is pretty annoying how many of BlackIce fics are like that =4= There are some good fics out there tho, i.e. not_poignant's series Shadows and Light, or Linddzz's works (she's really super good at writing canon!Pitch as the horrible person he is and Jack's (non)efforts to make him not as terrible while being his own little shit self xD;;;)

Remember, reviews/con crit are so very much appreciated!