I want to thank everyone for taking the time to review!

I know, I know, I suck. I can't offer much by way of apology for leaving you guys hanging for so long. Let me just say that some things happened in my life, so as a result my stories were terribly neglected for three fucking years. Still, I want to profuse my deepest gratitude to those who didn't give up on me or were concerned for my health.

Chapter 7: To Be Seen

"Children see magic because they look for it." –Christopher Moore

1485

James Rooked was the smallest eleven year old in his town. While most of the other boys in the village had gone out to sea with their fathers by the age of nine, he had been left at home with his mum and little sister, deemed too small to be of any help. Finally though, his papa had decided he was big enough to help row the boat and reel in the fisting net. It was therefore understandable for why the boy was so excited that he could hardly keep still.

He was currently waiting impatiently down by the moorings. His papa had gone to talk with the docking manager and so James tried to catch a glimpse of any fish that may have come too close to the shore. He was determined to catch the biggest fish that the village ever saw. That was sure to make his papa proud of him.

"Goin' out on yer first sailin', lad?" A gruff voice suddenly asked and James looked up to see an old man sitting on some netting upon a nearby crate. He was scruffy looking, caked in dirt, and the boy saw that the man was missing an eye.

"Yes sir." He answered warily. His mother warned him about talking to strangers and this man was certainly strange looking.

"Well then, ye'd best keep a sharp eye out fer Mermaids." The old man continued as he took out a flask from his shirt, drinking its contents and making a sour face that had the boy suppressing a laugh.

"Mermaids, sir? What sort of fish art they?" James asked interestingly, forgetting himself for a moment as he approached the stranger.

"Mermaids be no fish, boy, least not fully." The old man grumbled. "They be women, the most beautiful ye would evar lay yer eyes on, with scaled tails 'stead of legs."

"They sound wonderful, sir." James replied as he tried to imagine the creatures the old man had described.

"Aye, that they do lad, but they can be dangerous too. They lure ships aground. Takin' the lives o' the men onboard, but sparin' any children they find. Nobody be sure why, perhaps Davy Jones is just savin' them fer the Locker?"

"Davy Jones?" The boy asked nervously, now that was a name he was familiar with. "Art thou speaking of the ghost pirate, sir?" The old sailor nodded, taking out a pipe and stuffing the tip with shredded pieces of tobacco. "But that is merely a story… is it not?" The man shook his head and James gulped anxiously as he eyed the water suspiciously.

"Far from it lad, Davy Jones be as real as ye and me. And the Mermaids work fer Davy Jones ya see. She sends'em out into the sea to scavenge fer poor sods who be lost ta the storms. Tho', I have heard many a tale that the Mermaids will bring the children ta shore from time ta time."

"She? I thought Davy Jones was a man?" James inquired; causing the old man to shake his head and give a crooked smile that revealed many missing teeth.

"Why dost ye think bringing women aboard ships be considered bad luck, lad?" The old man didn't wait for an answer and continued. "The story be that Davy Jones was once a beautiful woman, a countess who waited fer her betrothed to return from his voyage ta the New World. As the years passed, and with no news given o' his fate, she hired a crew and sailed after him. A terrible storm hit their ship, the likes o' which never seen before, twas as if God himself had summoned the tempest. The ship was lost at sea, the crew and Davy Jones drowned with it."

"What about her betrothed?" James asked.

"Well that be the kicker, eh? He was perfectly fine. Found himself a lass lovelier than Davy Jones and settled down in the New World, livin' as a wealthy plantation owner. Enraged in death, Davy Jones made a deal with the devil. She would harvest him new souls fer the rest o' eternity in exchange fer damnin' her spurned lover ta the fiery pits o' hell." The old man said before taking a puff from his pipe and blowing the cloud of smoke into James's direction, causing him to gag.

"That is horrible." He said after recovering and the old man nodded.

"Aye, most women art. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." James opened his mouth to argue. To say that it was the man's fault for being unfaithful, for never even writing a letter to explain himself, but he was interrupted as his papa called for him. "Like I said lad, keep a weathered eye out fer Mermaids. And pray that ye do not meet Davy Jones."

Davy wasn't frequently found on the seas these days. She'd actually taken to the sky more often than not, seeing as there wasn't much good she could do on the waters. Her long stints in the clouds took away her time from being around the crew, and Undine had talked to her more than once about the distance she was creating.

It wasn't that Davy was trying to avoid the others for any malicious reason. She just didn't always want to be surrounded by Mermaids who acted like teenage girls most of the time. If she had to categorize her crew, most would be those popular cheerleaders that she'd feuded with during her high school years. That didn't mean she didn't like her crew, that would be rather impossible after knowing them for over seventy years. They were her friends. They had her back and their endless gossiping did nothing to hinder their loyalty. Davy knew she could never find a better crew, would never want to either. And she thanked the Man in the Moon that he'd given them to her instead of leaving her to sail the seas alone.

But that didn't change the fact that they could still get on her nerves more often than not, especially when most of their conversations seemed to revolve around her. "Dost thou thinkest the Captain is upset that she still hath no Believers?" "What is happening betwixt the Captain and the Boogeyman? They hath spent much time in each other's company." "Is there a lover's quarrel betwixt the Captain, North, and Pitch Black?" "Dost thou not think the Captain would look prettier with braided hair?"She couldn't handle the not-so-quiet whispers anymore, and while Davy knew her distance would likely cause more mutterings, at least she wouldn't have to hear about them while in the sky. Undine, Manny bless her, understood to a certain extent, but she also knew the issue went deeper than that for her Captain. One of those ridiculous whispers was true.

Davy was upset at still having no Believers.

Manny had brought her back to the year 1413, it was now 1485. Seventy-two years and not once had a human, child or adult, seen her or the Flying Dutchman. Frankly, she had no idea how Jack had managed to go three hundred years without being seen. It was absolute torture.

North and Sandy assured her it took time. Undine had told her to be patient. Only Grimm and Pitch had told her the truth instead of trying to comfort her. Not since the First Generation had there had been a Spirit who'd gone this long without a Believer. Grimm had been kinder in delivering the news than Pitch, who'd worn a slightly vindictive smile at the time, which she had, reluctantly, understood. Misery loves company after all and Pitch's steady decline in Believers had taken their toll on the Boogeyman, leaving him angry and bitter.

Unbidden, her shipmates' thoughts on their "relationship" came to mind and Davy allowed herself to snicker at the image of Pitch being romantically involved with anyone. Her connection with the Boogeyman wasn't exactly one that Davy could accurately describe if asked. She knew where she stood with others. Sandy was her best friend and North had quickly become a close second. Just last week the three of them had spent several hours locked in North's office, helping him come up with new toy ideas for next Christmas while drinking spiked eggnog and munching on sugar cookies.

Undine, while she could be stern at times, was more like a sister and the crew reminded Davy of the numerous cousins she'd had whilst alive. They would be there for her when it really mattered, but most of the time they were wrapped up in their own lives.

Grimm, oddly enough, was her confidant. She told him everything, shared her inner most thoughts and memories of her former life. He listened, offered guidance where he could, and was always updating her on things she needed to know about the world or Spirits in general. She wasn't exactly sure what to call him, a friend definitely, but a different kind than Sandy or her crew. She could talk to him about anything, knowing that her secrets and worries were safe, that he would never judge her or tell her what to do.

Pitch was so much harder to place though. At times it seemed he only ever visited her just to ridicule Davy, and as much as she liked banter, sometimes he took it too far, much like their last conversation. It had started out pleasantly enough. She'd even managed to get the brooding Spirit to play her in a game of chess, a feat she'd only accomplished twice before. But then Undine had interrupted them halfway through to remind her that North was expecting her at his Workshop in a few hours and that she had best start heading that way if she wanted to be there on time.

Davy had waved her off and thought nothing of it. North wouldn't mind if she were a little bit late. But after a few minutes of contemplating her next move, she'd noticed Pitch's silence, which was weird because he always started to taunt her when she was taking too long. When Davy glanced up from the board, she'd caught him glaring at her globe; blatantly ignoring that it was now his turn. And then she'd stupidly asked what was wrong. Pitch went off on her, calling her a fool and many other names, saying how she wasn't worth his time and promptly disappeared into the shadows before she could even form a response.

It hadn't taken much brainstorming for her to figure out the source of Pitch's sudden ire. He still hated the Guardians after all and he clearly didn't like her spending time with them. Davy, for some ridiculous reason, had actually felt guilty for a few minutes before shaking it off. North and Sandy were her friends, she'd reasoned with herself. She wasn't going to stop seeing them just because Pitch threw a temper tantrum. However, that incident had happened over three months ago and she'd yet to see a single sign of Pitch in her cabin since.

So that left the question of what Pitch was to her? Obviously his absence bothered her, but Davy hated how often he would take his anger out at her during their meetings. If there was one thing she'd learnt about the Boogeyman over the years, it was that he had a very sharp tongue. She disliked how he looked down on her most of the time or when he continuously pointed out her lack of Believers. But she enjoyed talking to Pitch more than she did anyone else; he always had something witty to say. She'd actually grown fond of his longwinded rants that ranged to just about everything, how they would sometimes debate about different topics, or when they traded creative insults because they felt too mercurial for conversation. She liked trying her hand at beating him in chess or the drinks they sometimes shared after one of her nightmares.

Pitch was an arrogant jerk, but Davy realized that was probably what she liked best about him. Because he could be clever when he wasn't being moody, engaging when he forget he was supposed to be mad at the world, funny when his taunting was spirited instead of spiteful. She liked how his silver-gold eyes would crinkle when the left side of his mouth twitched into a smirk. How he chuckled with a closed mouth, or the way he used his hands to emphasize his point while talking.

A sudden shout from down below, one that was carried up to her by the Wind, caught Davy's attention, shaking her out of her musings. She looked overboard and spotted a small fishing boat half-sunk in the water with two people aboard it. Fear welled up in the middle of her chest.

Davy had the Wind bring the Dutchman down and sail towards the wreckage. A boy was struggling to stay above water with one arm while his other was secured around an adult, clearly trying to keep the unconscious man from drowning. Nathan flashed to the forefront of her mind and she distantly wondered if she could handle watching another child drown in her arms.

"Hang on lad!" She shouted down to the boy, ready to rush off into her cabin and retrieve the magic conch shell Undine had given her after her run-in with Greenteeth. It acted as an emergency call that could be heard by her crew no matter where they were, letting them know that she needed their help.

"Please, please help us ma'am!" The lad called and Davy froze.

Had she heard that right? Had the boy actually seen her? She turned back to the sea and sure enough, the lad was looking up at her and swimming towards her ship. Elation like she'd never known seemed to build in her stomach. The emotion was so strong it almost made Davy burst into laughter. Pushing her excitement aside was hard, but she managed it and grabbed the nearest rope before throwing it overboard.

"Tie that around yerselves!" She called down, still half-expecting the child to not hear her. Amazingly the lad did just as she'd instructed. 'He really can see me! I have a Believer!' She pulled both the boy and adult up, getting some help from the Wind, and stepped back as the lad instantly tended to the man who seemed to be fine besides the slight cut on his head. "Ye alright lad?" He looked up at her with big brown eyes, tears building in their corners as he bit his trembling lower lip. Davy laid a gentle hand on his shoulder to comfort him and was only slightly surprised when he wrapped his arms around her waist. "S'okay lad, I have ye. Ye did good. Yer both safe now."

It took some minutes for the boy to calm down after his harrowing experience. Davy patted his back patiently, humming a jaunty sailor tune she'd learned a few years ago as the boy's sniffles subsided. And as much as she didn't want to, Davy stepped away from the hug and looked over her first Believer, drinking in the sight of him. The lad wasn't as young as Nathan had been, she could tell that right away. Perhaps he was a few years older, but he was also short. His hair was blonde and pulled back into a loose ponytail. He had a white shirt with a plain oversized tan vest, torn brown britches, and a pair of simple cloth shoes.

"What be yer name lad?" She asked softly and he bit his lip again before answering.

"James Rooked, ma'am." He watched her with widening eyes, his face morphing into an emotion that had rarely ever been directed at her.

Fear.

Not for the first time Davy cursed Manny for the changes he'd made to her body. Blue hair was already foreboding for this superstitious era, but the pointy ears, scales, and fins were the sure to get her pegged as a demon or some other monster. The boy pulled away quickly while shaking like a leaf, and retreated to the sleeping man who was likely his father judging by their similar traits. Davy cast a scrutinizing look at the unconscious adult. The cut on his head was already starting to clot, but she knew that head injuries were always tricky.

"Well Jimmy, count yerself fortunate that I were sailin' by. No Mermaid would have come through this area for another few hours." James stiffened and curled protectively over his old man, shaking the entire time as he kept a death grip on his father's shirt. Davy felt her heart breaking at the sight of the boy's fearful glare, his eyes brimming with new tears. Here was her first Believer and he clearly wanted nothing to do with her. "My name be Capt'n Davy Jones."

"Art– art thou going to t-take our souls to h-hell?" James stuttered over his words, looking even more terrified now that she'd introduced herself.

"What? No! Where did ya hear a fool thing like that?" She asked, appalled that the boy thought she could even do such a thing. He blinked in surprise, clearly having expected a much different response. "Lad, I take people back ta shore. I don't send'em ta hell." Davy didn't bother to mention that there was no hell. Religion, no matter what century, would always be a touchy subject.

"But that sailor said–"

"Forget what that codfish said and listen ta what I be tellin' ya now." She growled, unintentionally making the boy flinch, which she instantly regretted. She took a deep breath and tried to look less distressed than she felt. "Look lad, me job be ta find those who art lost at sea and return'em ta land, safely. Me Mermaids help in this task as well." James narrowed his eyes at her, whether in thought or suspicion, Davy had no idea. "Don't believe me, eh?" He looked down at the deck; his silence was more than answer enough. She tried not to feel so defeated as her gaze drifted to the sky. "What did that damn sailor say?" She didn't mean to curse in front of the kid, it just slipped out. James looked up at her as if she'd done something reprehensible. Oh right, cursing, especially saying damn or taking the lord's name in vain, was considered a big faux pas in this era too.

"He said… that thou was once a beautiful woman promised to wed a man who sailed to the New World. After years with no word, thou hired a crew to search for him and drowned at sea. In death, thine spirit learnt that thy betrothed was married and living happily… So thou made a deal with the devil, who took the man's soul… and promised to bring him those lost at sea for the rest of eternity." Not once did James' eyes rise from his father as he spoke, his words haltingly coming out as barely more than a whisper.

Davy couldn't help it. She burst into a fit of laughter. James flinched and she quickly tried to reign herself in.

"That has ta be–" She coughed to keep herself from snickering further. "The most ridiculous thing I have evar heard." James looked thoroughly confused by her reaction. "Jimbo, I have nevar been in love before and I have certainly nevar been betrothed." Davy plopped herself down on the deck, legs sprawled out as she pulled her hat off to run a hand through her hair, chuckling under her breath. "Sailors be such a superstitious lot. The stories they come up with, I swear."

"So… tis not true?" James asked hesitantly and Davy couldn't help but start laughing again. She was glad to see that the boy seemed to relax at the sound instead of tensing further.

"Nope, but I give the man points for tyrin'." She half-wondered if most people believed that story. If so, she shouldn't expect many warm welcomes in the future. How disheartening and ironic. She'd wanted people to know her, but not as the proverbial boogieman of the ocean. Would Pitch laugh at her situation or hate her for taking his fear? "A scorned lover sellin' their soul ta the devil, cursed ta sail the seas for all time. Tis not an unfamiliar tale, but it most certainly is not mine." It strangely reminded her of the Pirates of the Caribbean's backstory for their rendition of Davy Jones though.

"So thou art going to take me and my pa back home?" From his accent, Davy guessed that James was of English decent. It was thicker than Pitch's drawl, less articulate, but she was just counting her blessings that he spoke English. Despite her years as a Spirit, Davy knew very little when it came to other languages. She could speak some French, but not much else.

"Sure am lad, just tell me where and the Dutchman will get us thar soon enough." She answered easily before pulling herself to her feet. "But first we best get yer dad into me cabin, a bed would be much better for him than the deck." Without thinking Davy reached forwards to carry the man, hissing as her hands went through his shoulders and quickly jerked them back to her chest.

"Thou cannot touch him!?" James gasped and the Captain frowned as she rubbed her hands together, trying to get rid of the stinging pain that coursed through her skin. "Why not? Art thee truly a ghost after all?"

"I can only touch people who Believe in me." She sighed sadly. "C'mon Jimbo, ye wilt have ta carry him." James struggled under his father's weight and ended up having to drag him to the cabin. Getting him onto the bed had almost been an impossible task, but somehow the lad managed it. James placed himself firmly at his father's feet, warily watching Davy as she moved about the room. "Where do ye live, lad?"

"In Ipswich ma'am, tis a fishing village near–" He cut himself off with a yawn and Davy smiled at him slightly.

"I know where it be. Rest, it shall only take a little longer before yer back home." She left the room to let James lay down next to his father. It wasn't the happy meeting that she'd been dreaming of for the past seventy years, but she could make it work.

The only thing that mattered was that she had a Believer.

Pitch scowled as he appeared in the Captain's cabin. His last visit had left a sour taste in his mouth and he'd kept his distance for nearly four months. Strangely though, he'd felt compelled to check on the woman during that time, especially since she hadn't been having her usual bad dreams as of late.

He was therefore surprised to find that she was not in her cabin, which left him feeling wrong-footed. Every visit he'd made, the woman had been in her room, waiting as though she had sensed his impending arrival. He'd always found it annoying before, but seeing the woman not in her proper place was far more vexing. Laughter from beyond the room caught his attention and he cautiously slipped into the shadows before appearing on the deck while still remaining hidden. The sight that greeted him left the Boogeyman feeling too stunned to move.

There was a boy wearing ostentatious pirate garb and swinging a wooden sword about as the Captain blocked and countered.

Pitch felt something inside of him twist into a knot and the world seemed to teeter around him. The woman said something, his hearing was strangely too muffled to understand what it was, and the child laughed in response. The boy could see her. This thought was slow to come into place, a fact Pitch found hard to comprehend. Davy Jones did not have Believers. A less subjective part of himself did not understand where this denial was coming from. Had he truly thought that the Captain would never gain Believers of her own? No, of course not, that would've been foolishly naïve. But then why was he so surprised? Why did he feel… uneasy?

Without noticing it, Pitch had stepped out of the shadows, belatedly realizing that he was trembling from anger as he glowered at the child who paid no heed to his presence. 'He… cannot see me.' That thought, that silent truth, contained the words that Pitch came to hate the most in the world. He hadn't thought them for centuries, for if a child didn't Believe in him, then he still had thousands of others who did. One child was of no consequence. Yet now his numbers had diminished so much that it was laughable and suddenly every child mattered.

The Captain spotted him, as only she could, but Pitch felt too dazed by everything to even think about hiding. She stared for a long few seconds, before a wide smile split across her face. Unexpectedly, something within his stomach responded to her beaming expression. Pitch could only describe it as his insides wiggling restlessly, but it was too unfamiliar of a sensation for him to properly identify. It wasn't painful, but it left his mouth oddly dry, swallowing became uncomfortable, and his palms were starting to sweat. The Boogeyman glared at the woman, certain that she was the cause, and tried to push the foreign feelings aside.

"Pitch, come join us! This scallywag be after me ship and me treasure!" The Captain called cheerfully and the boy turned to look at him, eyes baring confusion as he saw nothing. Pitch refused to feel the sting that came with being unseen. "Remember me telling ye about the Boogeyman?" She said to the little sea urchin who nodded meekly in response, swiftly accompanied with a growing fear of being in the Boogeyman's presence. "Then jus' picture him in yer head. Believe in him like ya do me." The child closed his eyes, hands gripping his wooden sword tightly while muttering under his breath.

Pitch remained where he was, uncertain of what was going on. The woman was trying to get the brat to Believe in him, but for the life of him he couldn't understand why. The Captain owed him nothing and if she felt such an act would leave him indebted to her, than she had another thing coming. A sharp gasp broke his musings along with a newborn terror that came from seeing the Boogeyman himself.

"Hey, he dost not have fangs!" The boy shouted after a moment and Pitch reeled back a little, started as the boy's eyes followed his movement warily.

"Thou can see me?" The child nodded shakily, licking his lips in obvious worry, and the Captain playfully nudged the boy's shoulder. Pitch felt all the tension drain out of his body at the sensation of gaining another Believer, but he frowned, feeling very unsure of the situation. "Fangs?" The boy's face scrunched up sourly, his fear calming a little as the woman snickered before poking the back of his head in a teasing manner.

"I thought the Boogeyman would be really big, with sharp claws." The child mumbled in response and Pitch nodded. Most children expected something more grandiose than his true appearance and that was how he preferred it. A child's imagination was such a powerful thing after all. "Davy kept changing her story about what thee looked like. Last time she said thou had the fangs of a wolf."

"All the better ta eat ya with me dear." The Captain chuckled as the boy glared at her. She indulged the brat by patting his head before turning to back Pitch. Her smile dimmed a little, hesitating before becoming something more genuine and the wiggling returned to his stomach, making him shift uncomfortably. "Pitch, meet James Rooked, my first Believer."

Pitch didn't bother took look over at the boy, but kept his gaze locked on the woman. The loss she'd felt for that one child from so long ago had lessened. She stood taller, as if she'd shed a heavy burden. It was almost as if she was glowing. The Captain looked happier than she had in decades and the anger Pitch had felt earlier was all but gone, replaced with a smidgen of gratitude towards the boy. Jones was better now that she had a Believer and for whatever reason, she'd even decided to share that Belief with him.

He wasn't sure what to do next though. He was the Boogeyman, fear embodied. He didn't play make-believe with children, he terrified them. Looking at the Captain, he kept his expression decisively bland and she winked at him before turning back to the child. Pitch was appalled and utterly mortified to feel his face heat up. How dare this woman act so, so… shamelessly and make him feel so uncomfortable. Fortunately, Jones missed his rare moment of humiliation. However, the sea urchin did not. The boy was stifling his giggles in a way that made Pitch want to throw the irksome brat into the closest ravine, hopefully one that was bottomless.

"How would ye like ta play the bad guy, Pitch?" Jones asked happily, interrupting his glaring at the child. He paused for a moment to stare at her incredulously, vaguely noticing that the child was gaping at Jones as well, before managing to reclaim his composure. He glowered at her smiling face and crossed his arms behind his back before turning around, heading towards the shadows.

"Hmph, I have neither the time nor the idiocy to be bothered with such absurdities." Still feeling slightly perturbed, Pitch was fully prepared to return to home. Honestly, how daft was the woman? Asking him of all creatures to play with a child! She was worse than North. Well, perhaps not. That lout had asked him to join the Guardians after all. He scoffed, a bit of resentment returning to him as he remembered why he'd avoided Jones for the past four months. It was no wonder she sought after North's company, small minds think alike.

"Oh, okay, I understand. The villain would have ta be scary after all and ye've been out o' practice for a while." He froze as he heard her obvious insinuation, one foot already swarmed in the darkness. "If ya cannot do it, tis fine. I do not blame thee."

"Art thou implying that I, the Boogeyman, am not scary enough to participate in thy foolish game?" She shrugged. Oh he easily caught on to what she was doing, the manipulative wench, and curse his pride for making him retaliate. Pitch summoned the shadows forwards, commanding it to take the shape of a Kraken. Its monstrous silhouette sprawled across the deck and its tentacles reached out at everything.

The brat retreated behind the woman, shivering as he stared at the monster with horrified eyes. Fear spilled forth from the child like a tidal wave and Pitch let himself laugh at the two, feeling absolutely euphoric. Jones though, merely smiled in response. There wasn't even an ounce of fear directed towards him, but rather a lesser concern that he might take advantage of the boy's Belief.

"Come Capt'n Rooked, we will have ta put our fighting aside." She raised her sword and even though fear radiated from the boy, he did the same. A determined look built in the child's eye, one that only grew as Jones laughed. "We have a beastie ta slay!"

Davy waved goodbye to James as the Flying Dutchman took to the air. After their initial meeting a few weeks ago, she and the lad had quickly grown rather close. When James and his father had arrived back in Ipswich without their boat, they'd caused quite a commotion, especially since the boy had apparently told anyone who would listen that it was Davy Jones who'd saved them from a watery grave.

Most of the children younger than James instantly believed his story, including his little sister Mary. When she'd arrived in Ipswich two days later, Davy was greeted by a small circle of ten children who'd stared in awe at her and the Dutchman. She'd played pirate with them and for the first time in decades, she'd felt completely content. Of course James was still her favorite, whom she knew she owed her knew Believers to.

While none of the adults had been able to see Davy, clearly hesitant to believe the words of a child, that didn't stop them from making her the subject of many passing conversations. The sailors who visited Ipswich in the following weeks, true to their nature, began spreading her tale to others. They talked of her unusual appearance that the children described in great detail, speculated about what the Dutchman looked like, and most importantly, they spoke of how she'd saved James and his father.

Pitch may enjoy it, but Davy didn't want anyone to be afraid of her.

"Bye Davy, bye Mister Black! Next time we must play with Mary too!" James yelled as she flew over the town and headed back to the sea. A few of the children called up to her as she passed and Davy returned their greetings happily. Pitch remained unusually silent at her side.

She shot a glance at the dark Spirit, unsure of how to begin their overdue conversation. He'd surprisingly been a very good addition in their little game of make-believe, not that he'd want to hear it. Davy had been afraid at first that he would've taken things too far, that Pitch might have tried to truly scare James. Not a feat that would have been too hard. James was a very skittish boy. Of course he'd still scared the lad from time to time throughout their game, but as she'd always said, what was adventure without a little fear? Besides, if it came down to it, she wouldn't have let anything bad happen to James and the boy knew it.

"Now that matey, was a damn good day." She sighed happily and Pitch still said nothing. "We'll have ta do that again soon, I think Jimbo really enjoyed it. Maybe not with Mary tho'. The lass only be five."

"Why?" Pitch's question was so quiet, Davy wondered if he hadn't meant for her to hear it.

"Why not?" She replied with a shrug and his face twisted into a scowl, clearly unhappy with her answer.

"Why did thou instill that child's Belief in me, Jones?" Davy stared at him, stunned. That was the first time Pitch had ever called her by name. Before, he'd usually addressed her as "Captain" or the ever belittling "woman" when he felt particularly irritated with her. "I am not like North, nor the others. I do not possess dreams or toys. I bring fear, I–"

"Ye bring safety and common sense." She interrupted firmly. "The Guardians have pleasant things ta give the children. Wonder, Dreams, Hope, they help kids see the world in a better light. But we know better, don't we Pitch?" She turned away from the man as she spoke, looking out at the sea. The sun was setting on the horizon, painting the sky a mesh of beautiful colors filled with reds, pinks, and deep purples. "The world, more often than not, can be cruel and dark."

"Oh? Thou thinks thou art not like the Guardians? Did thou not waste the day catering to the whims of a child." Pitch sneered and Davy smirked teasingly.

"So did ye." He snarled wordlessly, but didn't deny it. "Me purpose is ta make sure children don't die, Pitch. Is that not a grim responsibility? Yers be ta scare'em so they know not ta venture into the woods alone or ta be wary o' heights so they don't fall. Ye help them survive. In that way, ye and I be more alike than any o' the others." When she turned back to Pitch minutes later, Davy was not surprised to see that he was gone.

Okay the whole point of this chapter was to show you Davy's first Believer and how her tale began to spread. I've always envisioned that in the Guardians' Verse stories about certain Spirits are different to our own. I mean, the Burgess kids knew who the Sandman was and Believed in him, which struck me as weird. I don't know about you, but I never thought he was real when I was a kid. I did think Jack Frost was real for a time though, after watching the holiday special produced by Rankin/Bass. People of the past were extremely superstitious. I don't find it hard to believe that some adults would take Davy as a legitimate thing, just like how they believed in Krakens, Mermaids, and other creatures.

We've finally gotten a decent time skip to see how Davy's and Pitch's relationship has evolved. I figured that Pitch would have no idea what if felt like to have a crush on someone, seeing as how bad he is with people. You know that famous butterflies in the stomach sensation? Well Pitch described it as 'wiggling'. Really, I just found that too adorable.

Side note for anyone who's ever seen Disney's Treasure Planet, you can probably recognize the endearment Jimbo for what it is. I've kind of been drawing Davy's speech and ideas from movies with pirates, the most obvious being Pirates of the Caribbean.

–Hexalys