A/N: I know. It's been over a month because life just happened. But if it's any consolation I have an extra long update here that's taken literally all month to get right. Or there about. I was going to split it because it almost got too long, but everything seems to work better this way I think. Plus there's a bit of a surprise twist at the end...

Also, a big shout out to all ye who followed/favourited/reviewed. It was wonderful to see some new readers!

Slang:

Missus = wife

Reviews:

Crossover Junkie: Indeed he might be! And I was definitely thinking of you when I wrote that in. I've been wondering how to incorporate it ever since... chapter 2? Yes, you're absolutely right about Val, and this chapter ponders more than one type of love. Now I guess she's got to figure out who needs her help the most. One day I'm gong to make a playlist of all these songs you keep mentioning I swear...

Skyress1: I wonder, did flattery get you anywhere? Hahaha

MyNameIsMordecai: It took a while but as promised, your chapter awaits...

Valentina came to a dead stop mid sentence. Someone was outside. And who knew how long they'd been listening.

"Pitch! Stop hogging the bathroom. It's been, like, half an hour."

It was Jack. Pitch dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, internalising a groan as he did so. First Valentina, and now him? It was almost miraculous how he managed to attract attention in the very moments he least wanted it. Sure, he'd come close to pleading once or twice in the past for almost anyone to see him after centuries of being ignored - not that he'd ever, ever openly admit to it. But it had been to no avail, and now was when the powers that be decided to grant him his wish? The Universe was cruel master of irony, apparently.

"Just… a minute," he faltered. He was already distracted and he didn't trust himself to say anything else should those words be something he'd regret later.

At least it was only Frost. Strange as it was, he didn't feel as bitter toward him as he did the other Guardians. In fact, he'd grown rather fond of the boy. It took a moment, but in hearing Jack's snark gradually the manic state he'd worked himself into subsided.

What was he thinking?

Of course it was madness. Complete and utter madness chalked up to the fact that he was still recovering from an ill-timed flashback, 'blood' loss, and a possible case of concussion to boot. No wonder the spirit woman he'd half accused, half begged of being his dead wife was gawking at him like he'd gone completely insane. Come to think of it, he very well might have… yet still, he could not let the idea rest.

Wrenching herself out of her stunned countenance, Valentina staggered to her feet with one hand to the wall; she wasn't sure she trusted herself to stay standing. Without hesitation he did the same and stood at her side. When she appeared to waver he slipped a hand to her back and took hold of her arm with the other to steady her, despite how his own head was still spinning. At first he thought she might recoil from him and he would hardly have blamed her, but when she turned her head to look up at his face she held his gaze with the weight of words unspoken. There was something there in that look. Uncertainty perhaps. Or the dawning of a realisation.

They both startled when the sharp rap was heard again.

"Did you fall in or something?" came Jack's snide jab from the other side, an attempt to lure Pitch out.

Any other time he might have gladly jumped at the chance to put the pest in his place. Today was not that day. For so swiftly had Valentina denied even the possibility that they were once something more, that he was left to wonder at the reason for her adamant resolve. All he could say for sure was that he'd frightened her. However, it was not him that she feared. Looking at her now, her face was set in a tense, emotionless mask that refused to betray the turmoil of her mind. She'd been shaken by his sudden bout of… irrationality, and in the space of only a minute or two she had gone from shock to genuine, sustained fear. A fear so strong he could practically breathe it in.

Unlike the terror he usually craved, that would otherwise have him relishing in ecstasy, this anxiety Valentina projected didn't settle well with him in the slightest. It disrupted his concentration as his alertness faded in and out like the static of an untuned radio, and the power surge it gave him was almost intoxicating. Certain fears happened to affect him differently. The fears of a child for instance were pure, simple, and incredibly powerful. The crippling anxiety of an adult, on the other hand was just as strong, but far less tameable. Even for the Boogeyman. Once she spiralled, he was just as caught in that web as she was and it was so challenging to distance himself when that fear came to him so willingly.

In and among the chaos of incoherent thought, however, one fear did make itself known to him loud and clear: What if he's right?

And oh, how that fear enraptured him.

So she does think there's a chance! rejoiced the faint little voice in his head. She had seen the connection too, if only for the fact that she couldn't deny the eerie coincidences, but he knew now it wasn't just a nonsense theory courtesy of his own imaginings. Through the drunken fog Valentina's anxiety induced, that rare inkling of hope broke though once again, a confusing kaleidoscope of emotion. He had to try and block her out, as difficult a task as that was. He needed room to think.

"How much do you suppose he heard?" Valentina whispered, wary of confronting what lay behind the door. A slight trembling of her voice was all that outwardly gave her away. He could sense her trying to squash down the many thoughts that were setting her on edge, and he was about to warn her against it when Jack called out one more time.

"C'mon Pitch. Everyone's here and I still gotta find Val. Is this about the whole appearances thing again? Look I get it, you wanna make yourself pretty, but I promise nothing you do is gonna help - oh." Jack ceased shouting very abruptly.

Thoroughly unamused, Pitch had swung the door open to greet the frost sprite with a withering look.

"No," he agreed, his tone insincerely bright, "I think you're quite right on that front."

Jack's eyes widened when he saw the bandages that wound their way around the Nightmare King's head. It was the most sorry excuse for a 'crown' if ever he'd seen one, and he had to choke back a laugh at the hair that stuck up at odd angles because of it. "Woah." The corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. "What happened?"

Pitch reported dryly with a wry sneer, "I'm not entirely sure. After the window exploded everything becomes a bit of a blur. I seem to recall a flying dictionary though."

Jack was unable to restrain a fit of giggles at the thought and his shoulders shook with the effort of not letting them overtake him. "I was wrong," he wheezed, gesturing to the gauze, "this is actually an improvement."

"Very funny," he said in lowly voice, dripping sarcasm. With his usual grace and dignified posture despite emerging more than a little worse for wear from a bathroom of all places, he moved out into the corridor, revealing Valentina in the doorway.

"Val?" Jack's brow shot up as he glanced from her to Pitch. His face then split into a knowing grin. "So… you did find him, huh?"

"Not right now, Jack," she deflected wearily.

As much as she was glad to see him back to his usual jovial self, she was in no mood to join the frivolity. Her thoughts were racing. Each question she asked of herself was more dizzying and overwhelming than the last, and try as she might to ignore this awfully, nauseatingly familiar feeling creeping into her stomach, she knew it would not stay silenced for long. It was lying in wait, coiling tighter than a spring.

Reading the situation, though not entirely understanding why they were both acting so strange, Jack cleared his throat awkwardly. "Okay. Well, the others are out there. We were kinda waiting for you. And Pitch."

"What?" Pitch's eyes snapped over to the end of the corridor from where an incessant babbling of aggravated voices drifted. Trepidation pinched his features. "Why are they waiting for me? Why do they want anything to do with me?"

"You were there," Jack reminded him. "They want to know anything you know. Plus, Mother Nature is your kid after all… isn't she?"

With the intent look Jack gave him, as though genuinely curious to know if they were indeed the same person, Pitch felt obliged to answer: "Yes."

"And you also think it was her that did that?" He pointed down the corridor to where debris and shrapnel were drifting through the open door of Valentina's room.

He didn't think; He knew. That storm and the rage of its winds had her written all through it. But exchanging any sort of information with the Guardians wasn't just a tall order — between them such a thing was virtually unheard of. And on the subject of his own daughter? They couldn't be serious.

"Maybe I don't want to tell them anything," he scorned, "has anyone thought of that?"

"Then I guess they'll take matters into their own hands," Jack reasoned slyly, being perceptive enough to know that was the last thing Pitch wanted.

There were no two ways about it. If he didn't intervene, they would act. And who knew what sort of chaos they could bring about? Being civil was the only way he could ensure they didn't royally screw him over. And not that he and Emily Jane were on speaking terms by any means, but he would be damned before he let any sort of harm come to her at their hands. As much as he dreaded the thought, it was time for him to take his own advice and come out of hiding from the world. His enlightening conversation with Valentina would just have to wait. With a frustrated sigh he dragged a hand indelicately over his face. "I suppose there's no point in prolonging the inevitable," he grumbled to himself more than anyone else.

When he saw Valentina hovering in the doorway his scowl lessened. By the look on her face, she wanted to see them no more than he did, and he found that just a little bit comforting. He held out a hand, both coaxing her into bravery and silently begging that she not have him face them alone. To his relief she joined him, but though she walked at his side, she did not take it.

Jack led them back out to the globe room to find that Tooth, Bunny, and Sandy were conferring with North. The four stood in a quiet huddle with Toothiana hovering inches above them, her iridescent wings sounding a low hum. Chittering empathetically over her shoulder were three mini-fairies. They all spoke in turn rapidly, looking with concerned expressions at one and other, and then back to North. Sandy was contributing to the conversation through use of glittering sand symbols, and from what the newcomers could tell he was none too pleased at being called away from his work in the Asia-Pacific region.

When the sound of their footsteps announced their arrival, the group flinched and riled at the sight of the Boogeyman out of habit. Pitch had to admit their reaction delighted him immensely. If there was one thing that could improve his mood, it was that he could still scare the supposedly fearless Guardians by simply making his presence known, and a spike of unease was all it took. Some things never changed.

"Ah Jack! You found them," North crowed once their weariness settled, ever lively and energetic no matter the circumstance. "What is taking so long?"

"There was a bit of a situation," Valentina informed them.

Much to his discomfort, all eyes were trained to his forehead and the unusual look it was sporting. For ages it seemed they stood there, ogling him like some kind of side show freak. Being gaped at in terrified awe he could abide by, but this felt horribly like ridicule and he made a mental note to have the bandages removed as soon as possible. It took every fibre of his self-restraint not to forcibly wipe the stupid looks off their faces.

"Just take a damn picture. It'll last longer," he snapped at them.

To Jack's amusement, their eyes were quickly averted to avoid being scowled at. "I have been meaning to get a camera…" he began with a snicker, but the winter sprite promptly shut his mouth at the glare Pitch shot his way.

"That looks pretty painful. Are you alright?"

It was Toothiana that spoke. In a curious turn of events fuelled by a spontaneous bout of sympathy (or stupidity), she was the only one who had decided to brave his hostile gaze. She twiddled her thumbs out of nervousness that he might anger if he thought he was being pitied. She couldn't have been more wrong.

Instead, he was baffled by her concern. Never before had the Tooth Fairy bothered to ask him something like that. In fact, none of them had. Not even once. The realisation left Pitch with a strange hollowness he didn't care to dwell upon. "Yes, I'm fine," he said, and her cautious expression lifted.

"Thank you," he added quietly.

Something regrettable must have crossed her mind. He could have sworn a mournfulness wilted Toothiana's features for briefest of moments before she nodded and it disappeared. "Val?" She asked, turning her attention to the Guardian at his side.

"Fine," was Valentina's unusually short answer. Tooth frowned slightly, but if she thought something was wrong she made no comment.

Bunny, charmingly tactful as always, was becoming antsy at the stagnant conversation and his nose twitched in what was almost a nervous tick. "Seriously? You called us all the way out here to tell us everyone is 'fine'?" he asked North incredulously. "What gives? Where's the bloody fire?"

"It was more like a blizzard," Jack muttered.

"For once, I agree with the hairball," clipped Pitch in a smarmy tone, "I'm dying to know why any of this is necessary." Suddenly he was at the cossack's ear which startled the group into dispersing slightly, leaving North rooted to the spot. "North, I thought I made myself perfectly clear they were to have no business in my affairs?"

"They are not just your affairs anymore," North reiterated sternly, standing his ground. "They are here because North Pole was put in firing line. When someone attacks one of us, they attack all of us and everything we stand for. They threaten the children we swore to protect. And given the strange events of past few weeks, we cannot safely rule out possibility that someone has more sinister intent than just getting back at you." He decided not to add that he didn't doubt whoever it was probably had a perfectly valid reason for their resentment toward the Boogeyman. It wasn't like Pitch was exactly popular among the various spiriting realms.

Meanwhile, Bunny's hackles were raised. "Woah-woah-whoa wait. Attacked? Who attacked?"

"It was Mother Nature," said Jack definitively.

"We do not know for sure," interrupted North, hasty to correct any misinformed presumptions.

"Please!" Pitch retorted scathingly as he turned on his heel and strode away from the Guardian of Wonder. "When are you going to wake up to your own self-righteousness, cossack? It was her. I know it, and it has nothing to do with any of you. This is to do with me and what's mine, and I will not have you interfering in matters that you have no right to be concerned with."

"It does concern me when lives are put in danger under my own establishment," North argued. "You were gone all day, a very easy target out in open, and she waited until you were back here to strike? That does not happen with out ulterior motive."

All the while Sandy's face was etched in shock. He had known Emily Jane before she was Mother Nature, long, long ago. He'd happened across her on his voyage as a Dream Master, trapped within a stagnant shooting star that was alight with the fury of a thousand suns. They became allies and over time he'd managed to help tame the rage that consumed her, but he'd also had the misfortune of bearing witness to her heartache when Pitch revealed himself as a nightmare come to life. Despite this, when Sandy last parted ways with her, she hadn't seemed to wish ill upon her father. Instead she'd merely warned him that he was past saving. To think that now she was actively trying to harm him puzzled the dreamweaver indeed.

He interjected silently, his images roughly translating to: "I do not understand why Emily Jane would be harbouring such cruel intentions, especially after so many years. I never thought she could be so malevolent."

The little man's contribution irked Pitch more than words could express. He held a deep seated resentment for the idea that Sanderson of all could have ever been more trusted by Emily Jane than him. "No, you wouldn't understand," was his venomous response, "none of you would. She was trying to prove a point."

"Then help us to," Tooth urged as the mini-fairies chirped an enthusiastic agreement. "What is she trying to say?"

"It's not what she's saying, it's what she's doing," he corrected frustratedly, raking a thin hand through the crest of his hair. Then he sighed to himself, knowing what he was about raise was an incredibly delicate subject. "I'm sure you all remember a certain girl from long ago. A storyteller and a Guardian herself?"

"Katherine," North inferred wistfully and immediately.

"Who?" asked Jack, looking perplexedly from one spirit to the next. Valentina was no help, she looked just as confused as him.

"One of original Guardians chosen by Manny," the former bandit imparted in his gravelly register, "she was one who brought us all together during Dark Ages. Very special little girl, very bright."

"And it's with that girl that the bulk of my troubles with Emily Jane began. Having grown bitter with hatred and scorn, she saw my endeavours to… corrupt… young Katherine as an attempt to replace her with another."

In his peripheral vision he saw North's hand reach reflexively for the hilt of his sabre.

"Wait!" he halted, "before you draw your sword and avenge her, cossack, let me admit that I know what I tried to do was deeply misguided. I thought I needed her fears to survive. They were among the most pure and powerful I'd ever come across, and at the time I didn't know there might be other ways to gain strength — ones that were not quite so damaging at least. And if I'm being honest…" though he couldn't for the life of him think why he was, "…I suppose I did see something of my daughter in her. Though I never had the intention of replacing her. But I digress. She told me to never lay a finger on Katherine, and technically I didn't. But I did taint her dreams and Emily Jane, the one you now call Mother Nature, saw that as an act of war. In finding that loophole I only proved what she suspected of me all along and in revenge she swore that I would never know kindness again. If my own actions weren't bad enough seal my fate, I'm almost certain she has personally made sure of it to this day."

"Yeah? Well, serves you right." There was a fiery air of justice that Bunny exuded. He couldn't care less if Pitch had just come as close as he ever would to bearing his soul. Katherine had been dear to all of them and as far as he was concerned, any remorse shown was long over due. It brought him a great deal of satisfaction to see the Boogeyman squirm. "I bet you regret that one big time."

"Trust me," gritted Pitch, "I have paid for it every day since."

"What have you done, though? Why would Emily Jane have angered now?" signed Sandy.

"Why do you think?" Bunny's stare suddenly veered over to where the Valentina had been standing by the whole time. "It's cause of Cupidonia," he finished coldly.

Valentina, who had given up all efforts to actually be present in the conversation, was startled out of her resolve. His accusation hit her like a freight train.

Pitch wasted no time in marching up to the hapless Pooka, stopping only when he was looming directly above him with a black, wolfish snarl. "Listen to me, Rabbit, and listen well," he hissed, "you had better be very careful about what you say next."

"Or what?" challenged Bunny, rising to match his height. "You think I'm afraid of you? You're a shadow sneaking low-life, and she ain't any better. You can keep your issues to yourself, no problem, cause Moon knows we don't want 'em. We've had enough trouble since she showed up and it's only gonna get worse! You know what they say: It only takes one rotten egg to spoil the whole bloody basket. I dunno what Manny was thinking but there's no way known she has what it takes to be one of us. How could a Guardian — how could anyone tolerate you if they weren't scum themselves?!"

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK ABOUT MY WIFE THAT WAY!"

The silence that followed was more deafening than Pitch's bellow.

The room was sent reeling. Disbelief rendered them speechless as they tried to figure out if they really had heard him correctly. Pitch's arms, which had been tensed with balled fists, dropped languidly to his sides when he realised what he'd done. His face contorted in frustration and regret. As had happened many times before, his self-control failed him when another was too keen to bring forth his hurts. He had forgotten himself.

"What do you mean Val is your wife?" North's jaw worked through the syllables in a way that said he did not truly understand what he was asking.

He should have kept his mouth shut. What the Hell was he supposed to say to them now?

"She…" He turned at a loss, hoping that maybe Valentina would be able to say something to mollify them. Only he realised she was gone.

"I need a drink," Bunny muttered absently. "A stiff drink."

Pitch paid him no mind. He was more worried about the distraught woman whose panic he could feel was was eating her alive. She was barely coping, and it was with that knowledge that something strange happened: His heart began to ache. Not in the same way it had because of her, rather it ached for her. It was the kind of pain only felt by loving another more than anyone could ever love themselves. By having another's troubles become their own. And for his half-blackened heart, the sentiment was almost too much.

For the very first time the Nightmare King, who gleefully threw scores of people and children into the throes of terror, simply couldn't bear the thought of someone — his someone — being so anxious and miserable.

Foregoing any attempts to deal with the Rabbit and his ilk, his only objective now was to help her if he could. He made to walk away from the globe room when Tooth screeched to a halt in front of him. Her feathers bristled and her tail fanned out menacingly. The fairies at her aid were poised to attack at a moment's notice.

"Explain," she commanded.

"Let me through, Toothiana."

"I'm not asking, Pitch. What do you mean?"

He pressed his lips into a tight line, stealing concerned glances down the corridor to where he knew Valentina had fled. "Even if I wanted to explain I can't, because I'm hardly sure of it myself," he said bitingly.

"Just. Try."

The warning look she fixed him with was so intimidating, he might have been impressed had he not been the one receiving it. "Fine!" he exclaimed, throwing an exasperated arm into the air. "I have reason — No. I have several reasons to believe that the woman he just blatantly insulted is somehow my wife. Obviously, I didn't mean to call her that, but when provoked…" He glared at the Pooka. "She knows far too much for everything to just be pure coincidence. She knows things she didn't even realise she knew! It was her who reminded me of my former self after she spoke my name in her sleep, and it was only after she kissed me that I saw a vision of the woman that used to be mine."

Though they might have suspected it, the others were not exactly aware of the fact that he and Valentina had shared a kiss (more than once). As a result that little detail was met with reactions ranging from shock and intrigue to outright disgust.

"North, where'd'ya keep the eggnog?" Bunny requested weakly out of the corner of his mouth.

The toy maker dropped a key into his paw without taking his eyes off Pitch. "Kitchen, liquor cabinet," he murmured. "Bring bottle."

From his dreamsand, Sandy created the silhouetted picture of a family: A soldier, a noblewoman, and their child. "Lady Pitchiner?" he was asking.

"The very same."

"How is that possible?" marvelled Tooth, "Isn't she…"

"Dead?" he finished for her when she couldn't seem to do so herself. "Oh yes. However, if there's one thing I'm sure of…" He trailed off as his gaze settled on Jack, frowning slightly while he considered the boy. "It's that nothing is ever as impossible as it seems."

"Does she know?" she asked.

"She does now," he sighed.

"So," Bunny broke in before he took his leave, "even your own missus eventually ran away from you. Figures."

Despite the fact Pitch could very easily rain down fire and brimstone on the insufferable Pooka, he chose to ignore the indignation that boiled in his blood. He'd learned his lesson for being too quick with a silver tongue. It just wasn't worth it.

"Say whatever you want about me," he permitted flatly. "If all I am to you is a good-for-nothing, villainous wretch, so be it. But don't do the same to Valentina. Just… don't. The worst thing she ever did in her right mind was give a damn about me, and she's being punished enough for everything else. Whether she really is my wife or not, I never want to hear you speak of her like that again. Do I make myself clear?"

There was no need for intimidation. Having never spoken so genuinely before, his sudden selflessness and lack of sinister intent was more jarring than any threat he could have devised. Bunny at least had the decency to look repentant, and by the Guardian's silence he was assured they'd reached an understanding.

"Good."

With Tooth having drifted to the side, appeased, he turned his back on all of them without another word.

Breathe, Valentina.

By a stroke of dumb luck she had managed to find that room again. The room filled with failure-deemed toys. It was the one place she could be sure she wouldn't damage anything of great value to North. Which was very fortunate indeed.

She had started to turn again when hatred manifested in the form of Bunny's scathing accusations. Only this time, those words had been aimed directly at her, making them all the more deadly. Knowing she had mere seconds before the reigns were taken out her hands, she'd bolted. She could not — would not let what happened last time happen again, and only when that door was slammed shut would she give herself over to the Other.

Those few minutes were wiped from her memory. Frankly, she hoped it would stay that way, because seeing the resulting destruction when she came to was frightening enough. Objects were scattered haphazardly, broken from when they'd hit the ground or shattered by a lethal blast. Blackened and singed marks peppered the walls at random intervals, and there was even a hole burned clean through the plastic of a doll's house. The last thing she noticed was a pretty porcelain figurine with dark waves and earthy green eyes that had miraculously survived the attack, barely even disturbed. It's lavishness was accentuated by the pale green dress it donned, though the fabric was smudged and stained after years of neglect as well as her own outburst. The innocuous doll sat opposite her with its head tilted almost inquisitively, like it was simply curious as to why she would do such a thing.

This all came to her as a shock reminder of what the Other was capable of, and it proved to be the last straw before she finally snapped. On the ground, she clutched her knees to her chest and dug her fingernails into her palms while she was completely overwhelmed. She emitted an odd, strangled noise when her throat decided to close up, fighting against the shudder that was building in her chest. This wasn't her first time experiencing an attack like this. She knew the motions, horrid as they were. However, it always astounded her that the voice in her head could be so calm while every inch of her was caught in the tendrils of a cold panic. Each time its instructions were the same:

Just breathe.

She did as it commanded, gasping one breath in, then releasing it, and starting again, no matter how much her lungs protested. She breathed through the sickening of her stomach, which felt like having her entrails squeezed by the deadly coils of a boa constrictor, and she breathed through the thousands of thoughts that took on a life of their own. Eventually though, she could no longer hold back her tears and she allowed her body to be wracked with heavy sobs. It might have looked undignified but she always found crying in this way helped. Because when the spell passed and panic was gone with it, reason was able to take its place.

He was right. And she knew he was. As if it wasn't insanity enough that she had been brought back from purgatory once by the Man in the Moon, somehow she could recall another life lived hundreds — if not thousands of years ago. It didn't matter if she couldn't explain it, the evidence all pointed to that one answer. And it was the answer, for when she admitted this to herself suddenly all the things that had confused her were finally making sense. Which in itself was both reassuring and terrifying all at once.

Easy. Breathe. Calm. Think.

His wife. That's what Pitch had called her when he'd cried out, so enraged by Bunny's accusations against her. Just as she'd turned tail and fled, it hit her like an avalanche, sweeping the ground out from underneath, or so it felt. What was so astonishing, she supposed, was how to be called his had sounded so immeasurably right. It had taken every ounce of her will power not to turn back despite the danger of her situation. Even now as his voice rang in her ears, her heart raced. Though, in light of her current mental state that could be for any number of reasons.

But I can't be. No it's all wrong! We barely know each other — That's a lie. You know each other better than you know yourselves — Oh shut up, brain!

No… he had been referring to her as the wife he once knew, and she was Valentina. There was a difference. She couldn't be just a personality replicated in a new body, it was not that simple. She had experienced so much unique to herself in this life which had inevitably changed her; Locked in a loveless marriage, sacrificed for the good of an innocent child, and spending the following two hundred and thirty years completely alone. No, Valentina Cupidonia was not a wife, or that woman. Only part of her was. The part that might have known part of Pitch.

"Kozmotis," she uttered in a tremulous whisper.

She wanted to hear that word for herself, testing for how peculiar it might sound now. But instead it was surprisingly welcome and comforting. Forming the name on her lips evoked the grandeur of galaxies. It whispered to her of bravery and honour, and in it she saw clusters of stars burning bright and constant — So very different from the darkness that loomed behind them. That would eventually engulf them. She wiped at the fresh tears that fell hot against her cheeks. It would have been a nice name for him, she thought, something righteous and noble.

Could she really have been that man's wife? How could she be certain when she knew nothing about the woman? She needed to know more. Had she been bold? Daring? What was her name?! Valentina was swept away by the strange excitement of curiosity, but it was quickly replaced by sorrow. Whoever that woman had been was as lost to her as Kozmotis was to Pitch. In fact, there was almost nothing to suggest either of them had ever existed at all.

Except perhaps a child.

Valentina cupped her hands over her mouth. There had been a child. One who was very much alive to this day. So that meant, if what she thought really was true…

Oh Gods.

Had her hands not been there to stop it, a manic laughter would have escaped her. No, it was absurd. She knew that. So then why did this extraordinary feeling wash over her like a breaking wave after being held back for so long? It had been building ever since Pitch had first uttered Emily Jane's name, only she hadn't known what it was until now. It was love, that much she could be sure of. However, it was a type of love she herself had only ever witnessed, and one which she had always been certain would never belong to her. But with every dream and vision of the girl, whom to behold was like looking at her own reflection, she had become more and more resolute that they were somehow inextricably tied. Now they finally made sense. For they were not dreams at all; They were memories of her daughter.

"Emily Jane!" Her voice emerged as only a whisper.

That's how she could be certain: She had an irrevocable love for a girl she had never even met, but who she knew without a shadow of a doubt was her very own flesh and blood. Or had been. It was something she felt deep in her soul, and it chilled her to think it might have endured countless years of being trapped in the abyss of limbo, waiting to be reunited with what had once been taken from it.

Her head fell back against the wall with a gentle thud, and she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes until patterns of stars burst behind her eyelids. Too much, she thought, it was all just a bit too much. When she took them away she had to blink through the lingering dark blotches, and it was as she did this, through the window across the room, that the Man in the Moon decided to grace her with his presence. A moonbeam stretched across the floor, bathing the toys it captured in a cold, eerie light.

"You."

She was on her feet and darting to the window before she knew she'd even stood up. Grasping the sill with white knuckles she stared up at the glorified rock that looked down upon them all. She was not humbled, or awestruck. She was angry.

"You knew something about all this. Didn't you?"

The Man in the Moon had only ever spoken to her once, and she thought he had been kinder to her than Jack in telling her of her purpose. Only now she was beginning to suspect there was something more to the renewal of her lease on life. Something she wasn't being told.

"Damn it, why didn't you say anything?!"

As was his typical way, he gave her nothing.

"I wandered this Earth for over two centuries completely alone," she lamented through gritted teeth, "like you let me believe I was. All that time they were both right here and you knew that! Then I finally figure it out only to possibly have everything taken from me again in a matter of weeks?" She looked down at her arms which showed just how dark her fractures had become after her transformation back into that creature. It filled her with rage. The clock was ticking for her, and yet the Man in the Moon could only spare cold indifference.

In her reproach, Valentina was unaware that Pitch had silently emerged from the shadows behind her. The shade had been ready to rush to her side, wanting nothing more than to ease the fears that had called to him. But he faltered when he saw, to his dismay, who she was speaking to.

"I suppose I should thank you," he heard her say wryly, "for at least pointing me in the right direction. But I cannot forgive the fact that you would put me in a position where I could have hurt him so easily in my ignorance. I will still try to help those children I failed to protect in any way I can, I swear on my own life, however, if you think even for a second that I'm still a part of your vendetta, you're dead wrong. I know Pitch has done terrible things, but he has since learned how to use fear in other ways. I've seen it. I have seen how he protects them as much as any of the others. He might frighten them, but he does so because he knows it will keep them safe. He was once was a noble man who had to overcome a fate worse than death. He can be that man again if he's given the chance. And I…"

Pitch barely knew what to think. He was weak at the knees and if he'd thought his ability to care for Valentina had reached its capacity before, he had not known of the way his heart could be full to the bursting upon hearing her declaration. He gravitated towards her, but froze when she continued on with a last desperate plea.

"I don't want to ask anymore questions. I know I'm only going to be disappointed. But after everything you've put us through the least you can do is tell me where can I find Emily Jane. Just tell me!" she cried. "Where is my daughter!?"

Pitch couldn't stop the stuttered breath that escaped him, and that, Valentina did hear. She turned her back on the Moon, facing him rigid and tongue-tied despite the impassioned appeal she'd just given. He had his gaze fixed on her, completely ignoring the useless, luminous orb and its Tzar who had taunted him for far too long. He couldn't think of what to say, too overcome with admiration and humility that not only would she speak so highly of him, but that she would blatantly defy The Man in the Moon for his sake.

And that she would call his daughter her own.

"Valentina, do you really mean that?"

She could feel the wretched tears brimming at her eyes again but made no efforts to blink them back. "Yes," she said, "how couldn't I?"

That look of inextinguishable hope had returned to him, and with each step he took towards her his spirits rose. "Do you really think it could be…"

"I know it is."

He was so very near her, but in refusing to accept the magnificence of what he was hearing should it be a cruel trick of his own ear, he was hesitant to reach out for her. "How can you be so sure?" he asked.

She faltered. It seemed almost wrong to say what she was thinking, like there wouldn't be room for her in this life she had been envisioning. Yet she did. For it was the only truth she had faith in. "Emily Jane," she declared eventually, and in speaking the name her lips formed a trembling smile. "When you first told me about her it was like this... this light flickered on inside of me. Hearing those stories, it was so indescribable I thought, 'no one could know what this feels like'."

He had to bite back a crooked smile at her. Of course he knew what it was she'd been feeling. Or at least, he knew something very similar.

"Each one was so familiar it was like…"

"A memory."

"Yes!" she gasped. "And for so long she was all I could think of. I thought I was going insane. But Pitch, she's mine. I know it like I've never known anything and I'm sure I thought it deep down for a long time I just never-"

She was interrupted by his lips on hers. Her eyes widened in shock, and then slid closed as she sank into his embrace. Her arms wrapped around him, and his hand found its way to the nape of her neck, gently caressing it to grab a handful of her hair and pull her to him as the kiss deepened with a yearning that had lasted millennia. It was in that kiss that she was told everything she needed to hear; the unspoken reassurance that chased away any last shred of doubt.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers while they held each other tightly. "Forgive me," he said breathlessly, "but you have no idea how long I've been waiting to do that."

For a moment, they stood in the peaceful silence of the island of misfit toys, allowing themselves to simply just be. From where her head came to rest against his shoulder she could still hear the thudding of his heart, not nearly as cruel and dark as it had once been. She pressed a palm to his chest, feeling the way it beat quick and steady beneath her fingers, and noticing how it gradually dissolved any fear she had left into a quiet murmur that could wait to be another day's problem. He tucked her head under his chin, though not before planting a kiss in amongst her hair and breathing in the scent he'd become so familiar with.

"Pitch, you have to understand something," she broke into the quiet. "I'm not her. Not in the way I used to be. My life has been different, with its own set of circumstances. I would hate to disappoint you, but I'm just not the same."

"Maybe that's a good thing," he murmured. "After all, neither of us are who we used to be."

She considered this for a moment. What he said was very true. They were both so changed that perhaps it didn't matter if she felt an uncrossable distance from this person she'd once been. There was a connection to that past, and there always would be, but for Lord and Lady Pitchiner, the Golden Age was the only place they could ever happily exist.

"I still have a lot of questions." she sighed.

"As do I," he agreed, though it irked him to acknowledge his ignorance. He considered himself an astute and perceptively cunning man, so to be presented with yet another unanswerable 'why?', or better yet, 'how?', sent vexation simmering through him. "I might be able to answer some of yours, though. What are you thinking of?"

"What was I was like."

"Ah," There was a devilish grin that curled his lips. "You, my dear, were quite deceptive when you wanted to be."

Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. That didn't sound like her at all. "What do you mean?"

"If I remember correctly, you were not exactly forthcoming about a certain minor detail. Not until it grew too big to be kept secret."

"I don't… wait." Her brow rose when it finally clicked what he was teasingly alluding to. "I didn't tell you?"

"Not for the whole two months I was away after you knew," he laughed softly. "By the time I got back it was fairly obvious, so imagine my surprise upon learning you'd been carrying a little stowaway the entire time." He spoke with mirth, thought in the moment she could see him being anything but amused. She wanted to cry foul. Surely she wouldn't have. But had she not dreamed of a similar situation wrought with apprehension? Before she could defend herself he continued: "I'm afraid the fault was mine, not yours. I'd made it quite clear that I didn't think myself equipped to raise a child, and you were so concerned over what to say that you never said anything at all."

Now that. That did sound like something she would do. Avoid a problem for as long as possible until even her own body betrayed her? Valentina's eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head. Typical. "Let me guess. You were deliriously happy and I was an overcautious idiot?"

"On the contrary. I was inconsolable," he deadpanned. When she gave him a surprised look he shook his head with a light smirk. "I may have overreacted a little, but loved her from the moment I knew," he assured her. His face became drawn with with regret and he sighed. "Valentina, I swear I never stopped."

She knew. She squeezed her arms around him just a little tighter. The Moon almost seemed to glare down through the window, casting a harsh silhouette of them as their shadows intertwined on the scuffed floorboards.

"He won't help, you know," Pitch informed her regrettably as he eyed their intrusive observer with a sneer. "Especially not not now. He has a nasty tendency for favouritism."

"I thought that might be the case," she muttered, curling her fingers round the edge of his cloak where it passed over his breastbone. Peering at the night sky from where he had her nestled, she found there was something exhilaratingly rebellious about embracing the Guardian's sworn enemy in full view of the Man who appointed her to join them. Let him look, she thought. She felt she was well within her rights to do so. "I just wish I could speak to her. Or even see her."

"That might also be easier said than done," he admitted ruefully, having by no means forgotten Emily Jane's wrathful curse. "She's not exactly in a mind to speak to… either of us. Especially when you, darling, have been so unbelievably patient with me."

"I am going to have a very long talk with her about that, don't you worry," she vehemently assured him, and then blinked in surprise. Where had that come from?

Pitch gave an amused hum in response. "There isn't a doubt in my mind."

She smiled into the velvety fabric of his cloak at just how bizarrely things were starting to fall into place. Why, it had only been a short while ago when she had refused to even hear of her possible identity. The resulting guilt seeped its way into her stomach. "Before," she started abashedly, "when you said I might be… her… I didn't mean to push you away like that. I was just…"

"…scared? Yes, I know," he reminded her, carding his fingers though her tangled curls. "When I realised how bad it was getting I followed you as soon as I could. Although, I don't think I would have made much of a difference — you handled everything wonderfully yourself."

"No. I didn't."

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, vibrating oddly against he cheek. "You did. You chose flight and made a decision instead of freezing up this time. There's no dishonour in running if your instincts tell you to." Then he added more quietly, "even if it was me you were trying to get away from."

"Pitch I did not run from you at all," she said firmly. "I ran because I turned."

"What?" he exclaimed, tensing abruptly. He took his arms from around her to hold her face in his hands, searching it with a panic stricken expression. She really was pale and it was no trick of the moonlight like he'd first thought. Glancing around the room, he saw just how terrible the state of it was. "What happened," he demanded urgently.

"When Bunny said those things about me I just… I had to leave. Because he was talking about me that time, somehow it was worse."

Having contracted to cat-like slits, the look in Pitch's eyes was beyond frightening. The tendons in his neck bulged and tensed while his jaw clenched furiously. He was absolutely livid. "I'm going to skin that rabbit alive," he vowed lowly.

"No! You are not going to do anything of the sort, do you hear me?" she told him, gripping his shoulders short of shaking some sense into him. "He's looking for a reaction and you're giving it to him."

"You think I can just sit idle by when not only does he openly disrespect you, but he actually manages to harm you!?" he rasped. "I can't. I won't! He knew it could do something terrible to you, if not kill you and I-" his voice broke off in anguish as the vision flashed before his eyes. Valentina, disappearing, slipping through his fingers like dust. We were denied the pleasure of draining your wife and child of their dreams, the repulsive Captain had once jeered to him. Not because the soulless creatures had been had been caught, oh no. His wife was dead. And he had been much too late to save her.

"Oh, Pitch."

He was shaking. Tears tracked their way down his cheeks and with her thumb Valentina wiped them away. She bade that he look at her. She saw a terrifying thought haunted those golden eyes, and she swore to herself then and there that she would do everything in her power to never let it darken his mind again.

"Pitch, listen to me," she told him with words that were firm and grounding. "I'm not going anywhere. Nothing like that is going to happen. Not if I have any say in it. It would take more than a few comments from Bunny to break me, but you have to let me handle what he said. The last thing I need is for you to send yourself off into a rage and take him with you, do you understand?"

He clutched her to him, afraid to let go should she vanish like an apparition once she was out of his reach.

"I can't lose you again," he choked.

"You won't," she promised, though it was almost smothered by the lump in her throat. "We made a deal, remember? I'm not done with you yet."

"To Hell with that bloody deal," he suddenly growled, almost making her jump.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said. What we made was a simple trade; your assistance for mine. But I don't want that bargain to be the reason why we're not done. That's not what this should be. We have a daughter - We were married! I'm not even sure what that means considering the technicality of 'till death do us part' but I do know one thing: This cold and blackened heart knew nothing of light and love — Nothing! Not until you reminded me that those things used to be mine and showed me that they could be again. As far as I'm concerned you have paid off any debt in full even if mine still stands. I would happily do anything you asked of me."

He pulled back to look deep into her eyes and drew a breath.

"I love you, Valentina."

One would assume, as the Spirit of Love, that those three words had been heard by Valentina many times before. Indeed they had, but they had never been intended for her in living memory. So it was as Pitch declared his undying adoration for her that she truly understood why so many chased with great fervour this type of love she tried her utmost to help them find. For he meant it with such ferocity that it was all she could do to not melt at his feet.

"I love you, too," she confessed softly. And never had she spoken it more sincerely.

Just he tilted his head with the intention to kiss her again (they were making up for lost time after all) he jerked it suddenly towards the door, now mysteriously ajar. Valentina followed his suspicious gaze and saw the tell-tale lingerings of an icy handprint wrapped around the edge of it.

"What in the name of darkness…" he hissed.

Seeing any evidence of tenderness vanish in an instant, Valentina was quick to place herself between him and the eavesdropper who lurked outside. It would have taken every scrap of courage he possessed for Pitch to say what he had, and he would take none too kindly to an unwelcome audience, no matter who it was.

"Pitch, wait a second. Before you do anything, remember, it's just Jack. He's not out to get you."

"Like Hell he's not."

"Pitch. Let me talk to him, okay?"

The noise emitted from the back of his throat was not a pleasing one, and he was itching to let fly with something so that it might stamp down the flush of embarrassment he felt at having been caught admitting to something so personal. But he let Valentina have her way.

Peeking round the doorframe, she found the frost sprite in the corridor, pressed to the wall with the most peculiar expression on his face. He seemed deeply torn between whether he should succumb to laughter or abashed nervousness.

"Jack." She made sure he heard the note of warning in his name.

"I didn't see you guys making out, I swear!" he denied with his hands raised in surrender. "North told me to come find you, he said you had to come back and he sent me cause he was pretty sure Pitch would kick anyone else's butt all the way to the Antarctic and he said at least if it was me I wouldn't mind," he rushed, words pouring out of his mouth so fast Valentina almost couldn't keep up.

From inside the room there was an unexpected bark of laughter. The two peered back into the dark, only to find its owner had vanished.

"And he's quite right," agreed a silky voice from behind them.

Jack flinched tremendously upon coming face to face with the Boogeyman, who fixed him with a glare that was so heated, it was a wonder he didn't evaporate on the spot.

"What," he gritted out, "could be so important-"

"It's Manny! Seriously, you guys have gotta see this!"

Pitch and Valentina gave each other little more than an uncertain glance before Jack took it upon himself to drag both of them away, with an icy wind following fast on their tail to speed them up. Irritable and spitting threats the entire way back to the globe room that he may or may not have intended to keep, the Nightmare King fell abruptly silent when he saw just what the Man in the Moon had really been doing at the North Pole.

The room was tinted with a pale, etherial light that was concentrated on what he could only discern to be a moonstone crystal. Though this was not exactly what had rendered the four Guardians standing around it speechless. Projected above the crystal there was a figure — No, several figures. To his astonishment a scene was playing out before them, and judging by the group's collective stupor, this was not a normal occurrence.

The figures depicted were quite obviously a crude representation of the Man in the Moon's chosen spirits themselves, and they appeared to be charging into battle, skilfully attempting to thwart their enemy. It was that which garnered his attention. This thing was monstrous. It towered above the brigade of heroes, hulking and massive. He could see it swiping and stamping at them with hooves that could rival iron clubs and it was then that he realised he was very familiar with its formation indeed. It was some grotesque mimicry of his Night-Mares. This, however, possessed none of the same finesse or care in craftsmanship that he endeavoured to create his own mares with. The only true likeness he could draw was that it was completely out of control.

Valentina's eyes grew wide as she stared up at the vision. "But that's…"

"Us," Tooth finished.

Except there was one more. Someone nobody present would have ever thought they'd see fighting alongside the Guardians.

"All of us."

As his luck would have it, all eyes were drawn once again to Pitch Black as he came to grips with the horror of his own waking nightmare.