A/N: I've been absolutely snowed under by uni, but I had the day to myself and I worked my butt off to get this out. That being said, I think it's going to get a bit tougher for me to keep updating regularly each week. Either that or I have to settle for shorter chapters. Neither of these are appealing but you gotta do what you gotta do. So if I haven't updated for a while it's only because my brain is so fried that I have no good content. Check in with my profile or PM me if I ever go MIA.

REVIEWS: (you people got me through the week, much love. And for those of you who said something to the effect of "can't wait to see what you come up with next" I literally laughed and said "SAME")

shiftingshadows963: It's wonderful to hear from a new reader. I'm glad you thought so! Enough to keep following I hope.

Crossover Junkie: Aw thanks! Do you just? I'm very curious as to what that theory might be, although I have a feeling I'm going to be far too obvious and give everything away. But no matter, I have plenty more surprises up my sleeve. And I suppose he is... warmer... but hope that's still a good thing. Hades does sound very similar to Pitch, you're quite right.

KijoKuroi: What!? You spent all day. Reading my lil fic? I think I might faint. I'm thrilled you liked it enough to keep at it. Once again, love hearing from new people, thanks for reviewing.

Skyress1: I thought it was wacky too, but I'm glad you liked it. Thank you! It's a bit of a risky move doing any OCx story, and believe me I cringe when I realise how mary-sue Val can sound, so it's great to hear you think that.

Now Edited 10/6/17

From the minute her eyes flashed open, Valentina knew something was wrong. As she glanced around the darkened room in groggy confusion, she found she could not move an inch. There she lay on the sofa where she'd crashed mere hours ago, completely paralysed, and for a reason she couldn't quite determine, her heart was pounding as though she'd just finished running a marathon. Like her body was aware of something she was not. It quickly informed her of a terrible truth.

She was not alone.

Inevitably, she began to panic and her state was only made worse by the sinister presence she sensed in the room. She saw nothing, but she knew it was there. It crouched in the corner, hidden from her line of sight by the back of the couch, and slowly but surely she felt it creeping closer to where she lay trapped. She couldn't flee, she couldn't even call out for help. Just a scream would have sufficed, but she could do nothing.

It was almost on top of her now, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal itself and leer down at her with a horrific grin and eyes that burned a hellfire red. But just when she was sure she'd implode from terror, she found she was free of whatever was binding her. So relieved was Valentina, that she almost tripped over her own feet as she scrambled to find the light switch.

The room was illuminated, revealing nothing out of the ordinary and she shivered as she attempted to calm herself. Her efforts were for naught, however, when she heard a grunt come from outside her peripheral vision. Whirling around, she emitted a brief scream and flinched away from the intruder, only to recognise him as none other than the Boogeyman.

"Pitch?"

She stood rigid for a moment, trying to make sense of what she was seeing at 5:30am through the bleary eyes of interrupted sleep. He was standing in the corner, and she suspected he was to blame for the waking nightmare. Her voice cracked with disuse as she chastised him.

"You know, most would have the decency to use a door rather than sneaking in unannounced. But of course, look who I'm talking to."

It was only when he failed to respond with his usual causticity that she realised he was far from okay. He appeared to be having trouble detaching himself from the shadows that settled where the light couldn't reach, not that he was giving it much effort. Dark tendrils reached with greedy fingers for the drag of his cloak, like they were trying to pull him back to their realm. He looked weak and very much in pain.

"Oh no." She rushed over to him. "Pitch, what happened?" she gasped as she pulled him into the dimmed light of the room.

He made no answer, simply clenching his jaw and wincing. He didn't even seem to be aware of his surroundings, so she led him over to the couch and sat him down. He immediately hunched over and wrapped his arms around his chest, gripping his own shoulders until his knuckles became white.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?" she asked with measured urgency.

He made a short guttural noise before barely managing one word: "…hurts."

"What hurts?" she continued to question, and surprised herself by how calmly she was reacting.

With a fist he struck the left side of his chest, apparently in too much pain to say anything else. "Your… your heart?" she interpreted.

Now that she was more alert she could sense something was indeed very wrong, but that power wasn't enough to tell her what from where she was standing. She would have to get closer. Wasting no time, she sank into the couch to face him and tried to move his arms which were currently obstructing her from her goal. Although he resisted, eventually she succeeded in having them crossed tightly over his abdomen instead — No easy feat when the lithe-limbed man was far stronger than he looked. She pressed a hand to his chest and closed her eyes to better concentrate.

Valentina wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but what she did find was completely astounding. Pitch's heart, as she already knew, had been cold and darkened long ago, and had remained that way for centuries. Possibly longer. Only, now it was starting to change. 'Thawing out' was the only way she could describe what she felt. His heart was quite literally coming back to life. But just as how frostbitten fingers could be warmed again, the process was proving to be agonisingly painful. And there was something else: A war was raging between nobility and malice as the two grappled for possession of him. She'd never come across anything like it. What truly stumped her though was why? Such a drastic change of heart usually needed an equally drastic motivator. Something potent and undeniable. A spring of hope, or a powerful memory were sometimes enough. But a fear of death was usually the culprit. That, or true love's kiss…

Her eyes flashed open to behold his pale, drawn face.

It couldn't be… Could it?

No. Now was not the time to ponder what had done this to him. Now, Pitch needed her help.

She withdrew her hand and quickly made the few short steps to the desk she'd set up as her work space. Thankfully, there was nothing she could do to make it worse, as far as she knew, so perhaps she would be able to procure something to relieve him of discomfort instead. She was by no means an apothecary, but the substances she used could sometimes alleviate pain, if manipulated just right. At least if it failed the worst case scenario was only a bout of lovesickness. Though admittedly a lovesick Pitch Black would hardly be ideal either. She almost giggled at the thought.

Not now, Valentina, focus.

Amongst the clutter, she found a clean pot and went about formulating a cure for the strange affliction. Scanning the substances in front of her, she picked out what she needed.

Let me see. Essence of oxytocin, serotonin, that should do it, endorphins, maybe a bit of opium…

Behind her, she heard Pitch groan at a startling volume.

…make that a lot of opium, she corrected herself with a grimace.

Quickly guessing and measuring the amounts, she added all these to the small pot and heated it over a burner for a minute. As the potion's temperature rose, the clear liquid clouded to lilac. So far, so good, she reassured herself. She removed it and poured the contents into a flask which was ready to be administered, but not before she added a dash of her own magic to the brew with small wave of her hand. With that final touch, the lilac colouring shifted to a pastel pink, indicating that the opium she very rarely used had reacted successfully with her magic. Relieved, she brought it over to Pitch, who looked quite pale by this stage (if it was possible for him to become even more so), and held out the flask.

"Pitch?"

He didn't so much as look at her.

"Pitch, I made this to numb the pain. Can you drink it?"

Again, he failed to register being addressed. He did whisper something though, and she nearly dropped the potion as a result.

"Emily Jane."

Out of a sudden unease, she froze. Not only had he never mentioned anyone by that name before, but the name itself startled her into a chill for a reason she couldn't quite fathom. "No, not Emily Jane," she said gently when she'd recovered, "it's me, Valentina. Pitch, you need to drink this, it will make everything better, I promise."

He only ignored her. "My daughter… Emily Jane," he muttered feverishly.

If someone had told her at that moment an all powerful force had taken the world and flipped it upside-down, she would have believed them. Because that's exactly how she felt in hearing that minute detail.

A daughter. Pitch Black has a child!? When did this happen, and… how?

She shook her head. Pondering the confounding subject of the Nightmare King's progeny would have to wait. Pitch was still yet to take the potion and she swore under her breath when she realised the only way he would was if it was forced down his throat. Lifting the flask to his lips, she tilted his head back so he might take as much as possible.

After a tense few minutes of carefully watching and waiting, he seemed to have returned to his own definition of normal. At the very least, she was satisfied he'd stopped convulsing. His eyes flickered to her, recognising her for the first time since his arrival.

"Valentina."

She gave him a weak smile though concern did not leave her. "Are you alright?"

He worked through a few more exhausted breaths before he answered her and gingerly placed a hand to his chest as a frown touched his mouth. "It doesn't hurt anymore," he noticed, and he pressed at it just to make sure. "You made it stop."

"I did?" She slumped on the spot as she released the breath she'd been holding. "Thank the Gods," she sighed.

"Actually, I'd rather thank you."

Being distracted as she was by the astonishing bombshell he'd managed to drop, her mind drew a blank before she fully understood what he was saying. "Oh. Well, of course. I mean — You're welcome," she replied in a fluster as she placed the flask on the mantle. But Pitch was seemingly oblivious to both her agitation and to what he'd just imparted. He settled back into the cushiony couch with a weary sigh and his eyes drooped closed, having found comfort for the first time in what Valentina could only guess had been hours. Try though he did, he simply couldn't fend off sleep.

"You should rest," she suggested, resigning herself to the fact that her many queries could wait until later.

With his eyes already shut, he merely nodded and was dead to the world within minutes.

She didn't want to leave him just yet, should he relapse while her back was turned. So instead she brought her desk chair by fire to wait with her thoughts while the rest of the North Pole rose to a new day. It was just as she quietly dragged her seat over that she noticed something very peculiar indeed. A bright, golden butterfly had appeared above the Nightmare King's head, and with it, the ghost of a smile upon his lips.

Two hours later, Valentina was returning from North's kitchens with a steaming mug of tea in hand, only to find Pitch had awoken. He was sitting forward, with his forearms arms braced against his knees while a deep frown obscured his features. His contemplative gaze shifted to her when she walked in.

"How are you feeling," she asked as she closed the door on the bustling noise that was already drifting up from the workshop.

"Better," he replied slowly, "Only…" he paused to consider the taste in his mouth and made a face. "I think I need a drink."

She glanced down at the mug and was jolted into an offering. "You can have this if you'd like. It's tea."

He quirked a brow. "Isn't that yours?"

"No, no, I uh… made it for you," she lied. "Just… here."

She placed it his hands and bit back a laugh at his startled expression. He soon shrugged and sipped at it to gradually wake himself up. How strange to see the once foreboding shade enjoy warm beverage, she mused.

"Thank you, Valentina," he said once he'd finished, "for everything."

"After what you did for me, it's the least I could do," she assured him, and perched upon her chair. Though she was far from reassured herself. Tension seized her as she mulled over certain snippets of their early morning encounter that had taken to rattling incessantly about her brain. There were questions she desperately wanted answers to, and now would likely be her only opportunity to get them. "Pitch, would you mind explaining a few things to me," she queried.

"If you specify what they are then perhaps I might," he replied more curtly than he'd intended. In an attempt to soften his retort he added, "what do you want to know?"

"You show up here at the strangest hour, you don't look like you have any idea where you are, and you still manage to find me. How?"

He was about to come back with a dismissive, simple answer when he found there was none. "I don't know," he admitted with a frown. "Before I left yesterday I thought I actually needed to get away from you."

She shot him a steely glare those words, which hurt after everything they'd been through. Then she remembered the kiss, the damage it might have caused him, and was only surprised that he hadn't shown up in more of a rage at the suffering he'd endured because of her.

"But then when I was alone I realised I needed to come back to you. I just have no idea how I got here."

"You really mean that?"

He held her gaze seriously and raised his brow slightly at her. She decided he was absolutely telling the truth. Her mouth quirked in a small smile before she moved on to her next question.

"Why was I frozen when I woke before?"

He startled in surprise. "You had sleep paralysis?"

She picked at wooden arm of the chair in recollection of her fright. "If that's what it's called, then yes."

He hummed thoughtfully. "I must have set it off by mistake. It's a trick of mine, something that usually happens when someone wakes mid-nightmare. It gives me a chance to draw on their fear quickly before they brush me aside," he explained flatly.

She crossed her arms. "Well, it was worse than a nightmare, that's for sure."

Although she looked thoroughly unimpressed, the fear spirit he was by nature was actually rather pleased by her feedback. So much so that he was caught completely off guard when she dropped her next point of inquiry.

"But what I'd like to know more than any of that," she pressed on, "is when you were going to tell me you have a daughter?"

The empty mug slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor with a clatter. He'd almost forgotten the dream and now it rushed back to him in a clarity that was sharper than crystal. The woman, the glass, and Emily Jane. "A daughter..." He stared at the flickering fire as the idea worked itself over in his head. "I have a daughter." Bit by bit, the fragments of memories long forgotten started to resurface and arrange themselves in a comprehensive narrative: The story of his life before fear. His face crumpled, drawn with grief as he recalled, after centuries of repression, the tragedy surrounding the lost little girl who had once been the centre of his universe.

Valentina on the other hand was simply baffled, and as she eyed him suspiciously, her apprehensive curiosity became angered disappointment. "Is that supposed to be news to you?"

"I'd forgotten," he said simply. As though even he was amazed by such cold-heartedness. "For so long I didn't want to remember…" He trailed off. "But I had a dream. And not just any dream as far as I know. It was a vision. I found a woman, who carried a doll with her and at first I though her dead. She crumbled to dust right in front of me. But then she spoke to me. She implored me to remember her, and to be brave like I taught Emily Jane. Like I taught her."

Valentina's initial anger subsided when she pieced together that for Pitch to have taught

anything to this girl he would have had to have known her. She had assumed that he, like so many cowardly men she'd observed, might have left the mother of his daughter alone after a night together and the idea had made her blood boil. She'd seen it happen far too often, and each man who left his lover with child and without a care enraged her to no end. She didn't care what Pitch's past entailed, it was the very thing she was trying to see beyond, however for him to have done something like that would have been one of the lowest acts she could think of. She was firmly of the opinion that no parent should abandon their children. Not unless they had to.

"How can you just forget something like that," she marvelled in an aghast whisper.

"I told you. I didn't want to remember."

"But she's your daughter!"

"I had to!" he cried wretchedly. A sharp silence hung between them, rancid with sorrow. "…I had to… Something terrible happened to her, and it was because of me," he croaked. "Valentina, I'm sure you think there's a way the world should be, but some things are too painful to bear. My grief ruined me! You couldn't know what that's like — how could you possibly?"

Then, with eyes finally wide open, Valentina was granted insight into the Nightmare King's most personal tragedy.

"The world you know is but an insignificant speck this galaxy, and there used to be much more to it than just Earth. Planets, constellations, moons! — they were all home to, and ruled by powerful noble families. The innovative thrived in a culture of knowledge and a drive to uncover the greatest mysteries of the universe. This was a time known as the Golden Age and it's long since passed. I was a general in the military, and I was tasked with leading defences against the Dream Pirates and fearlings: A vile army that plundered and pillaged every planet their fleet of galleons darkened. We were usually successful in our efforts to stave them back, and for that reason things became personal. I had a family, one that I loved more than life itself. I had a daughter, and a wife — yes, Valentina, I too was once capable of love — they were everything to me. But the Dream Pirates also knew this. They lured me away from them with an ambush and by the time I realised…" He choked back a sob, and Valentina could only listen in horror with a hand clasped over her mouth.

"Everything becomes hazy after that, but I know that I vowed to guard against the fearlings so none would have to live through what I did. But even despite my efforts they tricked me. Those depraved savages stole her voice and conned me into opening that door. That's when I became this."

Valentina's hand gripped the arm of the chair in horrible fascination. Not only had Pitch once had a family of his own, he had been human. Not some shapeless entity that just decided humans were grand enough to mould himself in their image. As well as this, her mind boggled as she considered the immense age to which he had existed. She could not confidently say he'd 'lived'; Surviving as he did on scraps of childish fear whilst shouldering such a burden was not the same as living.

"I don't understand, you told me you chose to take a human form," she spluttered.

"And you told me I couldn't lie to myself. Well take a good look, my dear, because that lie fooled both of us. I fabricated a new history, I willed myself to remember a past that never existed. It's a curious thing, the power of the mind. The power of being disturbed by something so strongly you can pretend it never happened. Some things are lies we tell ourselves because the truth hurts too much, and if they're said often enough eventually we find ourselves believing them."

"But you remember everything now?"

His eyes were downcast in anguish. "Not everything. I remember my daughter in bits and pieces, here and there. However, I cannot remember her mother at all."

Suddenly it clicked. "The woman," she cried, "the woman who spoke to you. That has to be her! She was carrying a doll, she was the one who told you about Emily Jane -"

"Very good, Valentina, I did also come to the same conclusion," he said with an edge of frustration, "but to me that is simply a matter of fact, I still have no memory of her. It's as though she's a complete stranger. And there's more: She said though she was running out of time, she would find me again. Except I have no idea what that could mean."

"Find you? But that doesn't make any sense, she's just a figment of your imagination, or a memory at the most, isn't she?"

"Maybe. And maybe not. Just because a dream exists in your mind, doesn't make it any less real."

Poor Valentina had to suppress a nausea rose up from the pit of her gut. If this woman was to Pitch what the Guardian of Love thought she was, then she didn't doubt they would find each other again. Soulmates had a habit of circling back to each other, no matter the circumstances, for they had been made of the same stardust back when the universe was nothing but, and that energy was never destroyed. It just became something else in an endless cycle of being parted only to find its way back. The idea of soulmates was something she took very seriously, and it would be negligent of her to tamper with their course. She was supposed to help. It was her duty. But dare she admit it to herself, she was more then just fond of Pitch Black, and that's why it crushed her to think he had a bond so much stronger with another. So, of everything that he'd revealed to her, there was one thing she still needed to hear from him.

"You did love her though?"

She evaluated him carefully, looking for any sort of sign that would betray his true emotions, but in the end she didn't need to. He withheld nothing in his answer.

"That much I do know. Whoever she was, I loved her with all my heart."

The Guardians became a near constant presence at the North Pole over the following week and as a result, everyone began to struggle against almost palpable tensions. With the Night-Mares still on a rampage, they endeavoured to make regular field trips as a unit to put an end to the problem, but it seemed that no matter how many mares they managed to destroy, more would keep reappearing. Even more frustrating to them was the fact that Pitch did not seem to be the culprit at large. Most nights they were forced to retreat, much to their chagrin, but as much as they could have used an extra helping hand, Valentina's declination to join them was often met with little protest. No one was ready to tempt fate just yet should things be made even worse.

Then there was the matter of the Nightmare King, himself. He seldom left Valentina's side, lurking by her as she built on her plans for Valentine's Day in the south wing. The entire arrangement left North highly unsettled. He couldn't help but feel his realm had become haunted when traces of Pitch seemed to linger, giving the Russian cause to jump at every shadow that crept along the walls, only to find they were usually his own. True to their word, however, all parties maintained their cold civility, achievable only because they tried to avoid each other as much as they possibly could. For the Boogeyman, this was easier said than done. He was one against five, therefore he was bound to run in to any one of them far more than he would have liked.

All the while, Valentina maintained her efforts to keep to herself. At first she'd become withdrawn in her jealousy of this woman who, for all intents and purposes, hadn't existed until Pitch dreamed her into being. But the fractures she bore quickly reminded her, like a ticking time bomb, that if she let it get the better of her — if she didn't focus — it really would be the death of her. So she trudged on. Yet still he was with her. It perplexed her as to why he hadn't simply disappeared after everything that had happened, and after a few days of trying to shut herself off from reading his desires (a pass time that had been of great fascination to her up until that early morning), at last she peered into the heart of the Nightmare King.

To her pleasant surprise, she found the affection he had for her hadn't changed in the slightest. What he did now desire though, was to remember as much as he could about the mother of Emily Jane, and she could see there were times when it deeply saddened him that he couldn't. As well as this, there was a pining for the daughter he'd once had and Valentina found she wanted to know more about this little girl. In a way she couldn't describe, she needed to know more. Initially her interest had been met with an anguished scowl, and she scolded herself for being so insensitive. But little by little, over the course of several days, Pitch began to weave the tale of Emily Jane — What he could remember of her at least.

"She was very bright for her age," he volunteered abruptly one morning as she showed him the basics of how she made L'amour.

Caught unawares, she eyed him quizzically.

"Emily Jane," he explained, holding up one of the bottles to squint at its pearlescent contents. "She was so curious about everything. Always asking questions. If she'd seen anything like this she'd be beside herself until you showed her how it was done."

She couldn't help but smile as she listened, feeling oddly proud that what she did might have fascinated his daughter. A little girl with bright, intelligent eyes immediately came to mind and had she known this girl, she suspected they would have gotten along nicely. She herself had always wanted better her knowledge of the world around her.

"How old was she?" Valentina asked without thinking.

The weariness returned to his drawn face. "She was only six."

After that slip of the tongue he'd withdrawn immediately, and she was no longer welcome to query the subject. Eventually he would impart other anecdotes, but it took time. Sometimes, when Valentina was more confident she wouldn't say something too thoughtless, she would prompt him with a question. Even so, he would answer some more readily than others.

"Do you think she was very much like you?" she asked one evening as she examined her bow by the fire and tightened the string.

Evidently, it was the right question to pose, for there was pride in his smile as he considered this. In fact, it was the first genuine smile she'd ever seen from him.

"I'd like to think so," he said from the couch where he observed her, "the man I once was, perhaps. She had this spirit about her. You know, the adventurous kind. So for her fifth birthday I gave her a schooner which she would take out to explore the surroundings of the moon we lived on. She would often copy me like that. I think she saw me leave to go on these noble quests and she wanted join me. Oh, I wanted to take her too. But I would never. These journeys weren't just some big adventure. I saw brutality beyond measure and it was that which I most wanted to shield her from. One day she nearly went too far outside our orbit and would have been vulnerable to an attack should the Dream Pirates have spotted her. It scared me half to death, so I told her, I said, 'Emily Jane, you must promise me to never go beyond that asteroid belt unless I am with you.' And the way her lip started to tremble when she thought I was disappointed in her! Can you believe it? As though I could ever be disappointed…"

She couldn't believe it. Pitch's thoughts seemed to have run away with him again, and when this happened Valentina had learned to listen with the utmost attention. This was a side of him she was certain he'd never let anyone see, and one that she was pretty sure he didn't even know he had until recently. She wondered if perhaps he would have been so generous with these stories if his heart had been just as shrivelled as when she'd first encountered him. She wondered if he would have remembered at all.

Usually, however, the most touching revelations came to Pitch suddenly, when he was engaged in something completely unrelated, triggering another detail to emerge from his subconscious. One such instance occurred in searching for a book title at her request, when he came across one that seized his attention. He pulled it from the shelf and flicked through the pages with a silence that was almost reverent.

"What've you got there?" she inquired from the desk as she slouched over a list.

"A book," he replied quietly.

Giving a small chuckle, she rolled her eyes. "I can see that." She got up from her seat, came over to where he stood, and craned her neck to look at the open page. "They're children's stories?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I read these to her."

Oh, she realised. When he offered nothing else she impelled him with a question. "All of them?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. All of them," he answered, slightly shaking his head of the daydream. "One day, she made herself a fort out of blankets and chairs. It made a mess of her room, but it was impressive none the less. She came running to me with this book and grabbed me by the hand, and tugged me all the way back to show me her masterpiece. She asked if I liked it. I told her it was grander than anything to rival the galactic armada. Then she demanded in her own charming way that I read the stories to her. I was supposed to be leaving for a weeklong voyage the next day, and I should have been preparing myself. But how could I say no? — She was very persuasive. So I crawled in after her and I spent the rest of the afternoon reading her stories, and changing the endings when we didn't like one. She had a lamp with her and she would make shadow puppets on the sheets as I read."

He closed the book with a soft snap. Though his hold on it only tightened as he clinched it to himself.

"I think that day I was almost the happiest I've ever been. At least it was almost enough to make me forget we were verging on war at the time."

And yet, Valentina had never seen a more solemn look on the Nightmare King's face.

Pitch had been human once. He'd been a doting father to a daughter whom he seemed to have loved with unparalleled admiration, made even more extraordinary by the fact that he'd never wanted children to begin with. He'd had a family. Although she should have been deterred by these things, Valentina felt it only made her admire him even more and it broke her heart to think he'd lost everything.

Furthermore, Pitch's stories of this child had irrevocably captivated the Guardian of Love. They occupied her thoughts constantly, regardless of what she was doing. The strange obsession got to the extent that she honestly couldn't remember the difference between what he'd divulged, and what she had simply imagined.

Her dreams each night, which were already confusing to begin with, became even more distorted in odd retellings of these episodes. In some of them she imagined herself there in the room; Watching him play with a toddler on the floor of a nursery, barely two years old, their peals of laughter merging together in a strange, sweet sound; Running alongside Pitch as he chased after the little rascal who held something aloft in a game of keep-away; Peering into his arms as he held the tiny baby girl, his face a mixture of fear and love of this little creature only recently welcomed into the world.

One night, Valentina's imagination went as far disregarding his former wife, so as to put herself in her place. Even as she slept she felt like an imposter, and she tried to will herself out, but the dream continued in disjointed fragments; Cradling the raven haired girl of about four, who missed her father so much; Making a mess of the kitchen as they tried something out of a book of experiments, and giggling in excitement as the solution popped and fizzed with a dazzling display; Feeing worried sick when she couldn't find the girl anywhere, searching endless empty rooms; Staring at her own reflection in a mirror and running her hands lightly over the slight bulge of her usually flat stomach as another wave of nausea passed, wondering how she was going to tell him, knowing it wouldn't stay a secret for long…

"Tooth, I'm going out of my mind," Valentina confided in her friend with a groan, as well as a rather dramatic flop onto her couch. She face planted with limbs splayed out and the fairy patted her on the shoulder with a titter at her melodrama.

"Val, I know you're stressed, but look everything you've done!"

With a glance around the room it was evident Valentina had been busy. Anonymous notes, bouquet arrangement plans, cards, and bottles of her love potion were organised into mountainous piles. The Tooth Fairy herself had been feeling better in recent days thanks to the persistence of her mini-fairies, who diligently and valiantly reassured the children with a quarter that even in this seemingly bleak time, they were still being looked after. As such, she was now successfully hovering, rather than being floor-bound as she had been a few days ago. Things were starting to look up, she thought.

"You're doing great. Although, you should probably try getting out there and actually seeing the kids some time," she hinted none too gently to remind her that part of being a Guardian was understanding the children she was supposed to be protecting.

"…I might have been putting that off," came her muffled, reluctant reply before she dragged herself to sit upright."But that not what's bothering me."

Tooth's spritely mood and encouraging smile immediately faltered. "What's going on?" she asked with a concerned tilt of her head.

Valentina bit her lip in hesitation, but she was desperate to talk to someone. So she told Tooth everything; How Pitch had shown up almost a full day after Christmas looking like death warmed up, that his heart that was literally coming back to life, about his unwitting utterance of fathering a child, his long lost wife, and the dreams the followed her around like a ball and chain. Well, she almost told everything. She was not about to mention the kiss. That was one detail that would only bring about trouble. None the wiser, Tooth's violet eyes grew wide enough to resemble saucers as she listened. When it was her turn to speak she flittered back and forth and considered everything Valentina had said.

"I'm just going to start with the fact that you sleep way too much. We aren't technically supposed to need sleep all that often, but you're doing it every night — That's not normal. And the dreams are strange, but I don't really have an answer for you there. You'd be better taking to Sandy about that…I'm just surprised Pitch actually told you about Emily Jane."

"He didn't mean to. He was delirious and I had to — Wait… I never said her name was Emily Jane, how do you know that?"

Tooth shifted uncomfortably with a grimace, realising she may have said too much. "Uh, well…" she stalled sheepishly, smoothing back her feathered crown, "we kind of already knew about her."

"Excuse me?"

Tooth waved a dismissive hand through the air, which the flabbergasted spirit was not placated by in the slightest. "In the past we've had a few run-ins with her," she tried to shrug off. "She's not like Pitch at all, but she's not exactly friendly either. She's always had a soft spot for Sandy though…"

"I'm going to stop you right there," Valentina spoke softly with all the calmness of a storm about to break. "Do you mean to tell me that this kid is alive?"

"She's not exactly a kid anymore," Tooth giggled in uncontrollable nervousness "What do you mean? Of course she's alive."

Valentina blinked up at the fairy in utter disbelief. "Tooth… Pitch thinks she's dead. He thinks she died in a raid at age six."

"What!?" Her jaw dropped open. "But - But he knows she's alive! He's spoken to her. At the Battle of Punjam Hy Loo, she even swooped in to save him even though she was the one that told Sandy that he was beyond hope," she recounted as she whirled about the space in confusion.

"He doesn't remember any of that," she stressed.

Tooth came to a halt and narrowed her eyes searchingly. "Are you sure?"

The sincerity in Valentina's tone was undeniable as she appealed to the fairy. "I know you think he's nothing more than a snake in the grass," she acknowledged, "but you haven't seen what this has done to him. It's like he catches a glimpse of his old self, only to be crippled by the reminder that what made him happy will never belong to him ever again." It was only when she said it out loud that she realised just why Pitch had told her to never suppress fear; Like his grief, it would return with a vengeance and tear any remaining sanity to shreds. "We have to tell him."

The fairy's face darkened as she considered what had not occurred to Valentina. She knew the power of memories, how the slightest recollection could take a person back to a place they had never wished to revisit for as long as they lived. The thought of Pitch having forgotten his own daughter sickened her, yes, but he was dark man, with horrors in his past that could disturb even those with the strongest of stomachs. With that in mind she concluded that some memories — and some people — were better left untouched.

"Don't you think there might be a reason why he tried to forget?" she cautioned.

"Maybe, and I know it's going to hurt him to remember, but this heartache won't pass unless he does. I can't let him live a lie like this, not when there's a chance he could have at least part of his family back. Even if it means…" she trailed off.

"Val, if he really has forgotten, there's no way he'd believe me. And I know he seems to trust you — if someone like Pitch could actually trust anyone — but this would be so huge for him, he might not believe you either."

"So we need proof. Something irrefutable." She paced as she plotted, but nothing concrete came to mind. "Can we find her? Surely she has to have been around somewhere this whole time?"

Tooth simply shook her head. "She's not an easy spirit to find. And she's even more difficult to pin down. I only ever get a sense that she's near by, but she has never revealed herself to me. Even Sandy hasn't seen or heard from her since the War of Dreams."

"Gods be damned," she muttered.

"…There is something that might convince him, though."

Valentina looked sharply to the fairy, who almost recoiled from her scrutiny. "Tooth, if you've been keeping anything else from me, I swear - "

"No! No, I only thought of it just now," she reassured her, though her reluctance was plain. "I'd just hoped I wouldn't have to touch that thing ever again… I have to go back to the palace, in the mean time you see if you can track down Pitch."

The Tooth Fairy then disappeared in a vortex of light particles before the perplexed Valentina could open her mouth and ask what this 'thing' actually was.