Chapter Thirteen: Forgiving

Jack cleared his throat awkwardly when Silver and Pitch didn't move for some time. Pitch pulled Silver from his neck, but was unable to remove her from his person. She held onto his arm, refusing to let him completely go.

"Jack," Silver smiled at him. "Thank you for helping too." She swayed on her feet and Pitch steadied her.

"No problem." Jack smiled at her and she leaned against Pitch almost shyly.

"My legs don't want to work," Silver said. "I guess losing your soul take a lot out of you," The white nightmare came over and nuzzled himself under her free arm. Silver smiled at him.

"Do you know where Death put your soul?" Pitch asked suddenly. Silver blinked, trying to remember.

"No. But I remember what it looks like," Silver leaned heavily against the nightmare. "I'm really tired." Silver frowned. Pitch squeezed her hand.

"Maybe you should ride your nightmare," Pitch suggested. The nightmare whinnied at her and dissolved so that it fit beneath her. Silver waved her arms to catch her balance, never letting go of Pitch's hand. Pitch looked at her hand oddly and carefully untwined their fingers. Silver tried to catch his hand again, but he evaded her. Silver frowned at him.

"Give that back," Silver demanded with a yawn.

"No." Pitch put his hands behind his back. Silver glared.

"Jack! He's being mean to me!" Silver complained. Jack shrugged.

"I'm staying out of this one. I saw what he did to Death and don't ever want to get between him and you." Jack smiled at her, still unsure of how he felt about the two of them being together. It was like Pitch wasn't such a bad guy after all.

"I'm not going anywhere. Now let's go get your soul back and go home," Pitch said. The white nightmare made a noise and stomped his feet.

"Ok, then I can sleep," Silver yawned again and she looked over at Jack. She just sort of smiled at him as the nightmare followed Pitch out, Silver riding carefully on his back.

When the troop got near the large main room, Silver was almost asleep again, head bobbing in time to the nightmare's steps. Pitch went into the room first and the nightmare followed him with a snort.

"Silver, I'm surprised to see you up and about," Death coughed into a black handkerchief, glaring at them from his throne.

"Where's her soul?" Pitch demanded. Death pulled his face into a pained smile.

"Not telling," Death laughed once, then grimaced. Every movement seemed to hurt him.

"What did your soul look like?" Jack whispered to Silver. She looked at him, but was distracted by Death who was so obviously in pain. And his pain was her fault. Should she feel bad about that?

"A silver light. Like when I'm a shooting star. But sort of blue too," She told him. Jack nodded, and, not being an immediate threat to Death, went over to the shelves relatively unnoticed. Death's eyes strayed to him once, but returned to Pitch quickly.

"Pitch," Silver reached out to touch his shoulder. He turned his angry eyes to her. "Help me down." She smiled at him softly. Pitch frowned at her, but did as she asked. Silver kept a hand on her white nightmare for balance and walked over to Death, who was lounging on his throne as if he'd been dropped there. Death tried to cast a flippant smile at her, but there was fear in his eyes. Somehow he knew what she was going to do, even if she didn't.

"Death," Silver said softly. "Can I see that jar from your pocket again?" She stood before him, her face as gentle as moonlight despite whatever anger she may have harbored towards him.

"Which jar?" Death asked as if he didn't know. The way his eyes widened begot his knowledge. He didn't want her to have it for some reason.

"The one with the shadow-man inside, the one you told me belonged to Pitch." Silver pressed gently, holding her hand out. Death looked at her outstretched hand, then past her to Pitch, and back up to her soft face. Death knew she should be mad at him, that she should be angry. She'd been angry the entire time she'd been here, and yet here she was, as gentle as dying in one's sleep. Pitch could feel Death's fear growing the longer the silence grew. Pitch smirked at the thought of Silver making the creature feel afraid.

Death sighed and reached gingerly into his pocket, pulling the jar in question from its unfathomable depths. Silver smiled at him when he set the jar on her hand.

"Thank you," Silver continued to speak softly. Death seemed to shrink in his chair as she looked at the jar.

"What is that?" Pitch asked. Silver smiled back at him and held the jar up to look at the little shadow-man that sat hunched against the side of the jar. Silver pulled at the twine and wax that held the top of the jar together and Death shrank again, as if he could escape by dissolving into the chair. The top of the jar popped off and fell to the floor, the noise of it bouncing echoed in the now silent room. Even Jack, who was hanging on one of the higher shelves, stopped to watch what Silver was doing.

Silver put her hand in the jar and Death finally spoke as she chased the little shadow-man around the jar.

"Don't touch him," Death said sounding panicked. Silver ignored him. "You don't know what you're doing!" Death said more urgently. Silver had caught the little shadow-man and brought him out of the jar.

"I don't have to know what I'm doing to know it's what I ought to do," Silver said bringing the shadow-man to her lips. She kissed the figure and it seemed to spark before it turned into a ball of black that moved like a sort of dark energy. Only it was warm and good and not evil like the body before her.

"Don't…" Death pleaded one last time. Silver held her hands out to Death, the odd energy clutched carefully between them.

"Take it," Silver told him. Death's eyes darted from Silver's face to the orb in her hands.

"I…" Death stammered. "I can't." He looked at her pleadingly. "I can't." He said again as if repeating himself would convey more meaning. Silver smiled kindly at him.

"Of course you can," Silver assured him, moving a step closer to him. She was easily within his reach now, but he seemed to shrink back even further in his chair. "And do you know why?" Silver asked. Death's eyes darted around the room and back to her face again, looking for a way out.

"Why?" He asked, not even trying to hide his fear from her anymore.

"Because I forgive you," Silver smiled easily at him. "Now take it and be whole again," Death reached out, but his hand stopped an inch away. "Go on." Silver urged. Death sighed, as if he'd given up, and touched the orb in Silver's hands. The orb shifted shape back into the little shadow-man and ran up Death's arm, jumping into his mouth. Death looked more frightened for a moment before his eyes closed as his soul spread out, back into its original position. Death jerked once, then looked as though he was asleep.

"What did you do?" Pitch asked.

"I gave him his soul back," Silver smiled at Pitch and stumbled when she went to take a step back. The white nightmare snorted at her, to tell her she could lean on him. "I think Pitch has me this time." Silver said patting the nightmare's nose before taking Pitch's unoffered arm.

"What did it do to him?" Pitch asked walking Silver over to the far wall where Jack was still looking for Silver's jar.

"I'm not sure, but he'll feel better once he wakes up. I think he's been without his soul for too long." Silver leaned her head against Pitch's shoulder. "I think I'm beginning to know the feeling."

"Did you find it yet?" Pitch asked up to Jack. Jack shook his head.

"Nope. Nothing silver yet." He shouted back. "Wanna look on the other shelves?" Pitch just nodded and walked with Silver over to the other shelves. Silver stood and looked at the lowest shelves as Pitch looked at the slightly higher shelves. Neither of them saw anything that looked like Silver's soul.

"Are there more jars somewhere?" Jack asked landing next to Silver. Silver shrugged.

"There are millions more." Death spoke from behind them. The three turned in unison. Death looked warmer, less, well, dead really. "But Silver's is here." He reached into his pocket and pulled another jar out. The light inside was sitting at the bottom of the jar, trying to flutter around, but it didn't seem to have the strength. "Take it," Death said. Jack moved first, taking the jar from Death and bringing it to Silver, who stood with Pitch against the wall.

"Thank you," Silver said, to both Jack and Death.

"I'm sorry…" Death said standing. "I… I don't know what I was thinking." Death frowned. "No, that's not true. I knew exactly what I was doing."

"You don't need to apologize," Silver said pulling the string from the top of her jar with a small smile. "I already forgave you," The lid fell to the floor.

"I don't know why you forgave me." Death said. He was leaning on a walking cane made of black shiny wood with a skull on top. "You know I don't deserve it."

"That's where you're wrong, Death," Silver reached her hand into the jar. "Everyone deserves to be forgiven. Even when they do terrible, terrible things. I don't blame you for what you did to me. I don't think it was the right choice though either," Silver had the light in her hand and it transformed into the little soft warm lamb. She smiled at it and she could feel Pitch staring. "But I think, if you try, and if you even want too, that you could make it up to me someday. That maybe, we could be friends one day too. Maybe not in a thousand years, but one day." Silver set the jar down on the floor. "After all, we all seem to have a lot of time on our hands." Silver smiled again and brought the lamb to her lips for a kiss. The lamb flashed and disappeared.

Pitch caught Silver when her legs gave out.