A/N: I'm back! I'm alive, and I have a ripper update at last. In which, there is something of a reckoning for Val, Jack is the most annoyingly helpful, Pitch takes centre stage as the terrifying Nightmare King (for the greater good), and an ominous entity lurks behind the scenes. Thanks for being patient, I hope this is worth the wait.

REVIEWS:

Crossover Junkie: I really try with this fic. Yes I did! Only briefly though, I can't promise she'll make a reappearance. Did I mention I finally read the books? That was one of my favourite moments I have to say, that bit you mentioned. I think I do remember reading that, but I didn't realise how skewed the proportions were. Of course he has to be left handed, I think left handedness used to be taken as a sign of witchcraft, so it just makes him all the more strange. Lucky you!

Skyress1: Thank you for letting me pick your brain this week, it's provided some much needed inspiration.

KijoKuroi: Indeed that could be one explanation. I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Guest: Struck a nerve did I? Excellent.

For all her good attributes, Valentina could be incredibly stubborn. As Pitch was currently observing from the safest distance allowed by the globe room's mezzanine, this woman knew how to not just hold fast to her assertions, but cling to them, immovable.

"Val, you have to!"

"I can't! Surely there has to be other ways?"

"Not if you want to see next Valentines Day."

The issue up for consideration was that the Guardian of Love was yet to make a trip out into the field as, well, a Guardian. Although, a 'heated discussion' would be a better way to describe how things were going. She was more than a little nervous about making an appearance, particularly after what happened over Christmas. But with Valentines Day only a month out, the days were slipping by very quickly and North had decided enough was enough.

"Is your duty to children. Going will help you figure out purpose in helping them," the aged bandit argued, throwing his beefy arms about as his agitation surged.

In contrast, Valentina stood defiantly still, her average stature doing little to deter from the determination of her stance. Her eyes were tracking North as he paced. "We've been over this, I know my centre. And if my duty to children is to protect them, I'll do a better job of it here, where I'm out of their way."

"That is not helping them or you!"

Pitch groaned softly from the pillar he was leaning against. His arms were folded and he drummed his fingers impatiently against his bicep. With lips set in a tight line, he made every effort to not be facing the globe as its burning lights glared down upon him. As much as it should have given him great pleasure to see the fat man so rilled up, their bickering was doing nothing but wasting time and grating on his nerves. Valentina should have been trying to put her plans into motion, but she was proving to be just as obstinate as the toymaker. Maybe even more so.

He was there at her request again today. This was hardly an unusual occurrence as she often asked for his help and he agreed. But admittedly her reasons for summoning him were becoming less dire as she exhausted the limits of what she could do from the confines of the base. He suspected what she really desired was company. Being in want of the same thing he was usually more than content to oblige, but today when North had announced that she needed to actually leave the North Pole and try to interact with the children on some level, that was when things took a turn for the irksome. Several arguments later and the situation had not improved.

There were so many other things he could have been doing. Although, it wasn't like there was anything stopping him from leaving either. He could probably come back and they'd still be squabbling. He could be out spreading a healthy dose of fear to some unsuspecting children, something he hadn't had the pleasure of doing in quite some time. Or better still, he could be trying to locate his daughter. A few days after he'd recovered from the tooth debacle he'd ventured out, but as of yet he'd had no such luck.

Emily Jane was just as elusive as he remembered, with his memory permitting. It wasn't perfect, no, but it was getting better. From what he could recall, she'd become a force to be reckoned with. To some spirits she went by the name 'Mother Nature', completely unpredictable and not always a benevolent soul as he'd found out the hard way. His efforts to find her had been just as fruitless as they had millennia ago in a miserable case of history repeating itself. Except this time, it seemed, Emily Jane did not want to be found.

"Who's winning," asked a voice next to him. He turned from the fray to see Jack had appeared clutching a bag full of cookies, his hand fishing around for one and then stuffing it in his mouth.

Curiously, Jack Frost and the Boogeyman had gradually become more tolerant of the other since their impromptu sharing of coffee. It was to the point where they now sat in a state of begrudging mutual respect, punctuated by Jack's tendency to push the envelope when he thought Pitch might let him get away with it. Being the troublemaker he was, this happened far too often.

Here, Pitch raised a cold eyebrow at the boy's lack of decorum as crumbs spilled out onto the floor. "It's hard to say," he grumbled, "Though, there was a whole minute where the oaf looked like he was bringing her around."

Jack's reply was one of amazement. "It's been an hour."

"Hm. Is that all?" He could have sworn it had been longer. Much longer.

Jack lingered at his side and continued to watch the argument - and munch on his biscuits. Right in his ear the boy crunched and chewed, crunched and chewed. Then he'd reach for another and start all over again.

"Do you mind?" Pitch snapped. "You're going to make yourself ill if you keep gorging yourself on that rubbish."

Jack shot him a smug grin stuffed with shortbread. "Carefoo, Pish, suh-wuh migh fink you actuawy care."

"I do care - about keeping vomit off my shoes," he sneered with an upturned lip. "Shouldn't you be out freezing the snot on people's noses, or something equally pointless?"

"Probably."

His nonchalant shrug had Pitch flare his nostrils. How very like a teenager. "What do you even do all day?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

Deciding he didn't owe an answer, he snorted derisively and turned his attention back to North and Valentina. She held a steely glare as he listed off all the different reasons why she should go, and although her stubbornness was going to do her more harm than good in the long run, Pitch had to quirk an eyebrow in admiration at the sheer strength of her will against the cossack's.

"Cookie?"

"No," he declined without shifting his gaze, "they're far too fattening."

At this, Jack made a sly grin and mused in mock thoughtfulness, "I wonder, who could Pitch Black be trying to impress?"

Pitch wheeled around sharply. "No one," he hissed.

"Sure you're not," he snickered.

"You had better learn to hold your tongue, Frost," the Nightmare King threatened lowly. His gaunt face was inches from Jack's, which would be enough to scare any grown man into soiling themselves. But the little shit maintained his impish smirk.

"You wouldn't be so mad if it wasn't true."

He was considering simply tearing the boy's tongue out instead, but the logic of his jibe compelled him to exercise control.

"And what of it?" he dismissed stiffly. "Taking pride in one's appearance is nothing to be sneered at." He plucked up some crumbs that had landed on the front of Jack's jumper and flicked them away. "Maybe you should try it sometime."

Feigning boredom of their conversation, Pitch resumed leaning against the pillar, and Jack noticed that aside from being exceptionally grumpy, mostly he just looked tired. But as his gaze naturally drifted back to Valentina, he seemed to settle into a more contented state.

"You really like her, don't you?" Jack probed, all joking aside.

"I 'like' her," he mused drily, "trust this age to be so flippant on such matters."

Jack looked at him expectantly.

"Well so what if I do?" he snapped.

The grin returned. "Have you asked her out?"

"Is everything always so brash with you?"

"Yup. Answer the question."

As Pitch's frustration mounted he looked fit to lash out, but suddenly his face fell, deflated. "It's not quite that simple," he confessed.

"Why not?"

He let out a defeated sigh. "Because! Aside from the fact that she could do much better than someone like me, things are… complicated."

That they were. As Pitch remembered more about Emily Jane, the fact that any and all information about her mother still eluded him pressed down guiltily upon his conscience. He could remember things that they'd done together but to him she was still a stranger, and he was made even more confused by the impossibility that she was supposed to be 'close'. He still didn't know what that meant, whether she was physically near or whether she would happen across him in the next decade by some means, but it was enough to fuel the constant battle in his head of just how he should feel. This woman had been his wife, for crying out loud. Reason said he should honour that fact, but how was he supposed to love a stranger? One that may or may not even exist at that. What saddened him most of all was that his so-called vision could very well be chalked up to a desperate hope on the part of his subconscious. And all the while there was Valentina, who was tangible and real. He'd found himself becoming distant and he knew she'd noticed, but what was he to do? To pursue her seemed unfair, even though all he really wanted to do was hold her, to kiss her again.

"She could, but I don't think she thinks that," Jack reassured him through nibbles of another biscuit, "All she ever does is talk about you when you're not around."

"I don- really?" he queried with a searching look.

"Yeah." He shot Pitch a smarmy smile. "It's actually kind of annoying."

"Well, in that case, good."

"But also, if things are really so complicated, why do you stick around at all? Wouldn't it be easier to just drop everything and leave?"

He stared hard at the winter sprite, in part because he wished for this sudden interest in his affairs to be over with, and in part because for all his prying and ludicrous attempts at playing Cupid, the boy posed a valid question.

"Obviously, you like her," Jack finished for him. "Just admit it."

Pitch exhaled sharply. "I'm not admitting anything… But what exactly would you suggest I do if that were the case?"

"Take her out!"

He narrowed his eyes. "That seems a bit counterproductive."

Jack's own eyes bugged at his apparent cluelessness. "I mean on a date."

"Don't be absurd, I can't do that."

"Why not? C'mon, she's smart and pretty-"

"That's exactly why I can't," he stressed. "What if she says no?"

Jack's brow rose. "Are you kidding? Why would she say no? I mean sure, you look kinda creepy, and you walk really weird. Then there's the nose, plus I think you're greying around the edges there a bit… "

"I'm almost flattered," he drawled over the mockery.

"The bottom line is she has a thing for you. Beats me why, but she does. Just invite her to do something with you. Preferably, something fun."

"Something fun," Pitch repeated thoughtfully.

"Please don't make me explain it to you, it will hurt me."

"Shut up. I know what fun is."

With a guffaw, Jack hummed skeptically. "Yeah, that's debatable. Look, at least just get her out of here for a bit. I think she needs it, she's just too stubborn to realise."

Pitch couldn't argue there. It was all good and well planning something in theory, but an operation as crucial as Valentine's Day would need to be practiced, and she wasn't proving she was worthy of anything by locking herself up. Even he could see that.

With one last withering look at the boy for having gotten under his skin, he turned on his heel and marched over to where Valentina and North were continuing to have it out.

"If you both don't mind," he interrupted loudly over the din with a piercing glare, "My ears could do with a rest, thank you very much."

The mountain man began to object. "But, she has to -"

"I'm quite aware. I think she's heard you loud and clear, as have we all, so would you excuse us?" he negotiated smoothly.

"But…"

"Now."

The lour North was given did in fact startle him into a paleness on par with his white beard. Throwing his arms up one last time, he surrendered, cursing loudly in a slavic dialect no one could understand. Satisfied, Pitch smirked after him, and with the slam of an adjourning door, the cossack disappeared to stew.

Valentina could now safely breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank you, I thought that was never going to end."

"You and me both," he agreed wearily.

She grimaced. "Sorry, he just wouldn't let up."

He raised his brow slightly at her. "Neither would you. And not that I would ever let that blithering idiot hear this, but have you considered that he might be right?"

Valentina startled at how little sense the entire premise of that question made. "Since when do you agree with North?"

"Since I think it might be in your best interests to do these things you've been avoiding," he advised gently. When all was said and done, Pitch might have been spiteful but he was not unreasonable, and logic in the face of chaos was something his job description demanded. "Though trust me, it brings me no pleasure to share in the opinions of Nicholas St. North. Valentina, you can't hinge everything on the hopes that one perfect day is going to be what saves you. You have to prove your remorse, and that means leaving the safety of the North Pole."

Her dark lips formed a twisted pout as she looked desperately around. "I know, I know. But how can I? What if something goes wrong again?"

"It won't," he reassured her.

"How do you know?" she challenged, placing her hands firmly on her hips.

"Because I'm going with you."

Her haughty stance slackened. "You are?"

"Yes. No. I mean, rather, if you'd like. Wait no, that not what…" he trailed off in a mutter to himself. It had come out all wrong. Now his confidence was waning quickly and this was not helped in the least by Jack, who was making absurd encouraging gestures with a ridiculous grin plastered on his face.

Valentina couldn't figure out why he looked so unsure at first. His hands were fidgeting. Pitch did many things, but to fidget was not one of them.

Valentina, I-" he cleared his throat and gritted his teeth, pulling himself together. "I wonder if you'd go out with me?"

She blinked rapidly several times, completely stunned, and replied weakly, "what about all that stuff I need to do?" Wow, Val, great prioritising, she scolded herself as soon as the words slipped out.

"That's what I was thinking of," he explained, "rather than it being some daunting task you have to tackle yourself, think of it as us going out to do something…"

Jack eagerly raised two thumbs up high above his head.

"…fun?"

Looking less like a deer in headlights, she shot him a quizzical smile. "I never pegged you for the fun type."

"Then allow me to surprise you?" he suggested with his own smile that vaguely resembled more of a grimace.

When her brow furrowed he knew he'd been right; This was a terrible idea, and now he'd made a complete and utter fool of himself. He was going to skin Jack alive for this when he got his hands on him, and by the Moon above he was going to enjoy it.

"What about the Night-Mares?" She asked eventually. "They're still out there and I don't want to lose control. I can't, not again."

Pitch hadn't even realised he'd been holding his breath, and almost sank to his knees in relief that she wasn't frowning because of him. "And you won't. Valentina, come what may, you know what to expect and I'll be with you the whole time. Besides," he added with a devilish chuckle and a gesture to himself, "have you forgotten what they'd have to contend with if they came anywhere near? If something happens I'll bring us right back."

For what was an agonising wait, Valentina gave this some consideration before deciding on her answer.

"Promise?"

Was that a yes? Is she actually saying yes!? Unbelievable, he thought, the boy's a damn genius.

Over where he stood, Jack was punching the air repeatedly, silently cheering as Valentina remained oblivious.

"I promise," he said, offering his left arm and she took it with a shy smile that became an elated beam. Before they departed, Pitch chanced a glance at the Frost spirit, who gave a cheeky salute.

"Where are we going then?" she asked him.

"Well, I did have one idea."

When they reemerged from the shadows it was in the quiet shade of a cobblestone laneway, with provincial apartments rising up on either side. Ivy crawled along the walls, and balconies were adorned with wrought iron barricades and assortments of potted plants. Where the lane opened up to a main street, the burbling of people pleasantly going about their business drifted over to them, as did the scent of freshly baked bread that was all too familiar to Valentina. She grinned when she realised where he'd taken them.

"Paris?" she laughed.

Pitch nodded. "You spoke so fondly of your family, I thought it might help some. You never mentioned where you lived, but I thought the capital of France was at least a safe bet. That, and the Tooth Fairy may have let slip that she found you here."

"It was more a case of me finding her," Valentina insisted, "but yes, we did often travel here." She drifted along down the road, peering into little shop windows as a contented smile brightened her heart-shaped face. "I guess I was so inspired by the city that I never ended up leaving."

"Welcome home, then."

She looked back to him and beamed. It was the first time he'd seen her happy like this and she looked positively radiant. Even the fractures that lingered on her skin seemed to fade in the sunlight that filtered down and caught her auburn curls. She was a vision in every shade of red and pink, and yes, he thought, she was indeed beautiful.

Turning to face him properly, Valentina saw that from where he stood a little way down the lane, Pitch was smiling at her. No, it was not a sneer, nor a simper, or even a smirk. It was a real smile that softened his pointed features into the semblance of something kind and warm. With it, he appeared slightly less like a dark smudge on a quaint picture. It suited him wonderfully.

Stepping lightly, she went to take both his hands in hers. "Come on," she told him as she led him away, "there's so much here that I want to show you."

Pitch decided not to mention the fact that he already knew Paris like the back of his hand. Having all the time in the world, he'd visited often, but with Valentina as his guide it was like seeing the city for the first time again. She showed him all the places she favoured: a small patisserie that had been in business since her visits as a child, the parks she frequented when she wanted to think, and the rooftop to which she retreated that gave her the best view of the skyline.

Valentina herself was quite giddy. Not only did the world look particularly bright behind rose coloured glasses, but this being the first time in several weeks since she'd been out and about, she was constantly distracted. She pointed out things at random, or was particularly taken by the way some people would fawn over their significant others, or how a parent would look with nothing but adoration at their child. At one point she stopped to watch a dance class in progress. It was some sort of waltz, ridiculously romantic, and she was hypnotised by way these people moved and spun together in perfect unison.

"Isn't it wonderful," she sighed, "they look like they're having so much fun."

"Even if they are complete amateurs," Pitch agreed with a smirk and she gave a twinkling laugh. Her interest in the dancers remained inconsequential until Jack's advice echoed back to him: Invite her to something with you… something fun. But by the time the thought actually occurred to him, she had already moved on.

As he had suspected would happen, when Valentina became more comfortable in her surroundings her confidence grew in leaps and bounds. What began as a simple tour soon became a mission to do what the Guardian of Love did best, and it started with a grudging couple. She was so surprised by their coldness towards each other as they sat wordlessly on a park bench, that she stopped abruptly causing Pitch to nearly walk right into her.

"Not on my watch," she muttered to herself.

With her eyes fixed on the two men, whose body language indicated to her that they must have had a quarrel recently, she conjured a vial of L'amour. Pitch tensed when he thought she was about to summon her bow and arrow, but instead of this she walked up and poured a little of the pink liquid over them. Rather than make a dripping mess, the position settled in a pastel vapour around their heads. He observed with a cocked eyebrow the effect it had. Gradually, their serious scowls softened until one actually managed a smile at the other, and with contrite glances they made their apologies. With her job done, Valentina returned to join him.

"That's not what I was expecting." he admitted.

She looked over her shoulder at the couple who were now gazing affectionately at each other, and replied, "they knew what they wanted, but sometimes the head needs to be persuaded by the heart."

She had already begun walking away, another matter piquing her interest, but before he could follow Pitch's attention was caught by something that troubled him. He couldn't understand why he hadn't noticed before. Black granules dusted the line of park benches. Picking some up with his finger, his suspicions were confirmed; nightmare sand.

"Pitch, are you coming?" Valentina called back to him.

Brushing it off, he quickly did away with it before she could notice. It would only worry her.

"Right behind you," he replied.

As the day progressed, Valentina was alarmed to find so many people, be they couples, family or friends, in ill humour with one and other. She could sniff out the animosity a mile away and at times it was so strong it made her head spin. The reason being that, at the site of each problem case, Pitch found more evidence that his Night-Mares had been in the area. She still had not seen or made the connection, so he decided to keep it to himself. He would tell her later.

Blissfully unaware that trouble might be afoot, Valentina was reminded of her duty to these people and that despite what she had so desperately hoped for, she was no good to anyone if she stayed in hiding of the world. Even more than that, she was reminded that what she did made her happy.

They wandered through Paris, stealing little brushes and playful nudges and Pitch had to wonder where this version of himself had come from. He scarcely felt the need to have the people and children that passed unwittingly by cowering in terror. In fact the only times he felt compelled to do anything was when a child showed no real concern that they were playing far too close to a busy road, or when someone thought it might be a grand idea to climb a high ladder without a spotter. It was occasions such as these where he did step into his role as the inspirer of fear.

Only when they came across a playground did their outing suddenly lose its appeal. In the Luxembourg Gardens, a group of children were playing in the dying afternoon light, and both Valentina and Pitch sobered when they happened across them. Though their motives differed, what really hit home to them was the fact that should they try to walk among them, it was highly unlikely these children would even realise they were there.

"It's not easy, is it?" Pitch said evenly.

"It's even harder up close," Valentina agreed, leaning against the aluminium fencing. They'd stopped beneath the shade of a large oak, captivated by these beings that hung their very existence in the balance. Here they played, so innocent and guileless, completely unaware of the power they held.

"I don't understand why I was chosen, Pitch," she sighed, "These kids don't need what I can do. They need the other Guardians - and even you - far more than they need someone like me."

Pitch wanted to assure her in some way that it wasn't true, however his sights were trained on something else. As the light faded and more children dissipated, he noticed two coat clad boys were wandering deeper into the park rather than heading for an exit. His brow furrowed and Valentina noticed.

"What's the matter?" she asked, trying to follow his gaze.

"Those two, over there," he pointed, "they aren't leaving. They're going further in even though it's getting dark."

"That's not good, where are their parents?" she wondered, glancing around.

"Who knows. They're not any rush to leave though."

"So what do we do?"

Pitch gave a small smirk. "We give them a reason to run."

Without another word he dropped into a shadow and Valentina saw him reappear some distance away, stalking the two children as they meandered down the darkening path. She followed, and flew over to the trees nearest to her that lined the walkway, though it wasn't without trepidation - What if she didn't like what she was about to see?

Pitch trailed after the two boys, doing nothing but trying to gage their fears at first. They were certainly buried somewhere. Everyone, especially a child, was afraid of something.

Spiders... skinned knees... father's temper... math… the school bully…

These fears made themselves known to him quietly, not quite at the forefront of their consciousness. They were all fairly sensible things to be afraid of, but to their foolishness and Pitch's frustration, they seemed to have no reservations about staying out after dark without a guardian present. That would have to be fixed. He sifted through the things that did scare them, and at last found something of use to him:

Monsters.

The children were at an age where fearlessness of the real world was a result of inexperience, however their youth was on his side. Despite their daring, their imaginations were still wild enough for them to tremble at the thought of beasts lurking in their closets. Perfect, Pitch thought, it was almost too easy.

Valentina stood some distance away and watched how the boys conversed loudly, unaware they'd been spotted. Though they spoke entirely in French, she understood every word (it having been her first language), and gradually their eagerness for chatter subsided. Something was amiss. They'd sensed it. The sun had disappeared and nightfall was approaching rapidly. Through the trees the shadows shifted, always in their peripheral vision, just enough to hint that there was something out there.

"Did you see that?" one of them asked.

"I don't think so," the other tried to reply steadily, but his fidgeting betrayed unease.

For Pitch, piquing their nerves was simply delightful and spurred him on. The theatrics became more elaborate. His optical illusions were accompanied by rustlings in the trees, the snapping of twigs and even the flickering of a solitary lamp that stood several feet away from them. The boys gave terrified gasps when it seemed the Thing was closing in on them.

"What do you think it is?" the taller of the two whimpered.

"Maybe a ghost?"

Their panic rolled over to him in glorious waves, and he emitted an ominous chuckle that could now be heard by both plainly.

"Who's there!?" The shorter one yelped.

Pitch didn't answer straight away. On the surface it would seem he was letting them stew in their own terror for a few moments longer, but in actual fact to receive a response - to have them hear him - had thrown him off guard.

"Someone you would be wise to be wary of," he eventually informed them in their native tongue.

"Who are you?" the tall one gasped.

His mirth at having them well and truly frightened could be heard in chilling reply. "Who am I? Oh, I am many things: the creature that waits in your pitch-dark closet, the thing that goes bump in the night. But you might know me best as the monster that hides under your beds. I'm certainly not someone you'd want to meet on a dark path at nightfall."

They paled as they realised the exact predicament they'd found themselves in.

"Tell me, have you ever heard of the Boogeyman?"

"Ma- Maman said the Boogeyman doesn't exist," the short one stuttered.

"Maybe that's what your dear Maman thinks. But you know better, don't you?" Pitch stepped partially into view. His eyes glinted out of the darkness, reflecting eerily in the low light. But his smile was the most frightening of all; two rows of pointed teeth revealed in a predatory grin.

"Are - are you the Boogeyman?" he asked faintly with knees almost knocking together.

"I'll give you one guess."

"Are you going to… eat us?"

From where she was watching, Valentina spluttered and shook with mildly suppressed laughter at the very idea. Though even she was made slightly uneasy by the Nightmare King's act, she had since realised no harm was going to befall the poor boys at his hands. He just wanted them out of the park and safe.

He shot her an amused glance before continuing with a lazy drawl. "Doubtful, I don't particularly care for such a diet. Children have to be gobbled very quickly. It's frightful for the digestion. However, if a child has been particularly naughty, perhaps I might make an exception."

The boys gulped audibly and even Valentina's snickering quietened.

"Which brings me to ask: What are you doing in the park all alone? Children such as yourselves shouldn't be wandering around this time of night."

"We just wanted to play a little longer," said the tall boy remorsefully.

"I can guarantee you won't want to play with anything that comes out after dark," he warned them with a well timed leer. "Especially not me."

The boys were shaking in their boots.

"But! I'm feeling generous. So I'll give you three seconds to get out of my sight and run along home. Unless, of course, you'd both like to join me for dinner?"

They didn't need telling twice. The boys tore down the path and out of sight before Pitch could begin counting.

When he was certain they'd gone, he reemerged into the dim lamp light, casting his threatening demeanour aside like a well rehearsed actor. He strode to Valentina with his head held high, victorious, and chuckled at how she'd paled slightly.

"Have I frightened you, my dear?"

"A little," she tittered, having been swept up by his scheme, "you can be down right terrifying when you want to."

"A better review if ever I'd heard one."

"So it should be; Pitch, they saw you!"

"They did." The realisation rendered him thunderstruck. "Valentina, not only did they see me, they were scared of me. They believed in me!"

"Yes!" She laughed as his typically controlled composure gave way to excitement. "Yes they did."

Although deep down it made her all the more melancholy to think that she still remained invisible and intangible to children everywhere, it did bring Valentina some comfort to see Pitch so exuberant when he'd been nothing but sombre for the past few weeks. He paced back and forth, barely able to contain himself, repeating to himself the one thing that mattered most of all in that moment: They believed in him. So she decided to keep her troubles to herself.

"Best of all, you did it for the right reasons," she commended him.

He looked at her like the thought hadn't occurred to him. "Well, of course. I had to do something. Like I said, no child should be wandering around by themselves at night. They have many things to be afraid of, and for good reason."

"It just proves what I've been saying all along. There is something there," she said smugly poking him lightly in the chest.

His hand lingered over the spot and he shot her a mystified glance. "What's that?"

"Something good."

"You still don't think I'm a monster. Even after you've seen what do?" he asked with a smirk.

"After that? I know so," she assured him, although suddenly she faltered with a frown. "As long as you've never actually… you know… eaten a child. Have you?"

At her sudden doubts he laughed. "Darling, that's merely a rumour I never bothered to correct. If anything it's a bluff that's served me well. All that pretence without having to do the dirty work, I figured why not just quit while I'm ahead?"

"I thought not," she chuckled with a coquettish smile, "you look far too trim."

Pitch raised an eyebrow at her. Is she? Did she just-

"Let's go back," she suggested, taking his arm, "I think our work here is done."

In their elated spirits, neither Valentina or Pitch had noticed the wind pick up, or the clouds that loomed heavy and low in the sky. Nor did they think to suspect something with more sinister intent than the Boogeyman himself could be watching them from beyond the light's reach.

"Jack suggested it?" Valentina asked incredulously when they were back in her room of the North Pole. She sat on the couch facing Pitch, with her legs comfortably tucked under.

He nodded. "The boy all but pushed me over to you." He was leaning side-on with his arm propped up on the back of the couch, his cheek resting against his fist.

"That little sneak!" she exclaimed. "He's trying to do my job for me."

"Watch your back, I think he enjoyed himself far too much," he cautioned, "you might have some competition."

"I say we get him back," she proposed deviously.

"A prank?" He considered with a wicked grin. "I like it."

She laughed, "I was thinking more along the lines of how he and Tooth are a little… infatuated. But I'm glad you do actually know how to have fun."

His face fell slightly and his brow furrowed. "I'm sorry. Today wasn't exactly what I promised, was it?"

"What? No of course it was!" she said quickly, realising he'd made completely the wrong inference. "That's not what I meant. Today was the most fun I've had in a long time."

"Interesting." He bit his lip with a slight chuckle. "I don't think anyone's ever had fun because of me." In fact the very idea that someone could be anything other than fearful in his presence fascinated him to say the least. He found himself inching closer to her. His knee brushed hers.

"Well I did," she said, studying his face. She took in the lines, the shadows, the jawline that looked as though it could cut glass, and eyes that held all the light of an eclipse. She wanted to commit them to memory. "I can't thank you enough. If anything, I'm just disappointed it's all over."

He hummed thoughtfully as an idea came to him. "There's no reason why it should be."

She gave him a quizzical smile. "What do you mean?"

He stood with his usual effortless elegance, which perked her interest even if it did break the sense of magnetism between them.

"There was something I wanted to ask you earlier," he said, "unfortunately I missed the opportunity then, but now seems as good a time as any."

She blinked owlishly at him from her perch on the couch. Then, unexpectedly, he bowed and offered his hand to her.

"I was wondering if you would do me the honour of a dance?"

A laugh escaped her before she could cover her mouth. "Is this about the waltzing? Oh no. No, no. I just said it looked fun. Pitch, I really can't dance. At all."

"That's alright," he dismissed as a matter of little consequence, "I'll teach you."

"You know how to dance?"

The corners of his lips quirked at her surprise. "Rather well I'd like to think. When you've been around as long as I have you tend to pick up a few things. This I learned a very long time ago."

His hand was still reached out to her, and with it, the warmth she'd seen in him earlier that day. There was something about that look that made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a precipice, something that made her knees go weak and stomach somersault.

Smiling in spite of herself, she took it.

"Just know, I will step on your toes," she warned him.

"By all means, do your worst," he chuckled as he led her to the clear space between the couch and desk. With a flick, he turned on the music box and it struck up their own private orchestra.

Standing face to face, Pitch instructed her, "take my hand," which she did. Gingerly, it slipped into his own, the warmth of it just inviting as he remembered.

"What about this one?" she asked, holding up her left.

"On my arm."

So she did, and she found his bicep to be surprisingly firm underneath. He then rested his right hand on the curve of her waist and pulled her close to him.

"Back straight," he hinted, and she stood a little taller. Her chest was inches from his, the electricity between them invigorating. Her heart was racing at his touch and she could have sworn she heard his beating as well.

"Now, when I step forward, you take a step back. I will lead, all you need to do is follow."

"Okay"

"And On- oof!"

Of course, Valentina had not only crushed his foot right off the bat, but she stepped forward as he did and clanged into him. There was nothing for her to do but hang her head in shame and laugh as he rubbed one of his ribs.

"I'm so sorry!"

"Don't apologise," he said trying not to wince, "you did try to warn me. Though when I said 'do your worst' I didn't think you'd actually take me seriously. Shall we try again?"

"I'm game if you are."

They took up the position again, and this time Valentina actually managed to move in the right direction. Back and forth they stepped simply and when she had it down, he spun her out. Coming back in, he caught her in his arms, and she relaxed into the embrace.

"There," Pitch said, spinning her once again to face him, "fairly simple, once you get the hang of it."

Then the music changed. It was a tune in three-four time, but unlike that they had just listened to, this was something completely foreign. Yet it was strangely familiar and none the less beautiful. A sombre look crossed Pitch's face and his breath caught. But it only lasted mere seconds as Valentina took his hand. Without even realising it, his hand found her waist again and his gaze locked into hers.

Without words, and no instructions needed, Valentina and Pitch stepped into a routine that was not just a dance, it was a conversation, as old as time itself. She found her feet effortlessly, and as they wheeled and spun she felt completely weightless. The rest of the world seemed to fall away. He guided her round the room, stepping out, meeting back in, under, over, in and out. Together. And not once did either of them misstep. As the orchestra swelled, he lifted her, only bringing her back down to have their faces inches from each other.

"How did you know that?" he breathed, his heart pounding.

"I didn't know it," she whispered.

It was impossible, completely and utterly. But as he lost himself in the familiarity of those green eyes it was unmistakable.

Her hands slid to nape of his neck, and his to the small of her back. Pulses racing, chests heaving, Pitch pressed her to him. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to kiss her, and that's exactly what he intended to do. That desire called to her and all she feared in that moment was that it should not occur.

He lowered his lips to hers.

They'd kissed for only a fraction of a second before Valentina's window shattered, flooring them. On the ground they huddled together, trying shield themselves from the sleet and snow that rushed unforgivingly into the room. As the bitterly cold gale threatened to freeze them, they thought they heard an enraged cry sound over the howling wind.