Chapter Fifteen

Dodging Bullets

It was still quite early in the morning, and some of the yeti and elves hadn't even begun their day Pitch realized as one of the many annoying coo-coo clocks rang out the time as 8AM. Still, Pitch was careful being sure to avoid notice as he made it back down the back hallway to his room door. He paused looking about carefully before noting the coast was clear and opened his door with a sigh of relief.

"Hey, Pitch!" Jack Frost called out as Pitch entered the room. He was seated on the side of Pitch's bed, playfully swinging his feet.

Pitch was taken aback to see the winter sprite in his room especially this early in the day. He regarded him not unlike one would stumbling upon a roach in their food, "What? What are you doing in my room?"

"Yeah, sorry for coming in uninvited," Jack said. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm interested in helping you train the reindeer for riding. And I wanted to know when you were planning on doing it."

Pitch blinked surprised, "Really? Well, um… maybe later. I… I just got a few books from North's library that I was wanting to read." Pitch pointed to the books on the nightstand as if he'd needed proof. The prospect of Jack helping him train the reindeer would be advantageous to controlling and guiding the beasts. If Jack had come at most any other time, Pitch would have been amused and welcomed the help if just to see Jack fail at the task. But there was no way he could study the texts he had hidden in the mirror with Jack here, there was little doubt the boy would likely run and tell North the first wind he got of it. No, he had to get rid of him for certain.

Jack looked from the books to Pitch. He gave a slight shrug.

"Okay by me. When do you want to train the reindeer? I'll meet you in the stables."

Pitch thought about it, he would probably be studying the texts for quite a while before he was able to do anything with them, but if he avoided the guardians too long it might cause suspicion. "How about tomorrow, you can come by to help take care of the reindeer to get them to trust you, and then we'll see where it goes from there," Pitch smiled. This was going to be entertaining. Pitch could use the boy to get through the hard parts of riding the beast since Jack could fly and could easily evade falling and in turn getting trampled which Pitch was a bit nervous about now with having his powers diminished as they were. It left him entirely too vulnerable for his liking.

Jack shrugged again. "O-kay. Those must be some books. I never thought I'd see anything drag you away from the deer."

"It's been a really long time since I've read a good book; if you weren't illiterate, you might understand," Pitch scoffed annoyed the boy was questioning his decisions.

"Who says I'm illiterate?" Jack lifted an eyebrow.

Pitch shrugged stating offhandedly, "I just assumed. You don't seem overly educated."

Jack smirked. "You'd be surprised at what all I know. Some of us actually hang around humans."

"Yes, well that doesn't necessarily say anything good in your defense," Pitch derided. Knowing Jack was trying to make a point about humanity struck a nerve in Pitch since unlike Jack, he'd couldn't remember the last time he held belief in any child for longer than a fleeting moment, "Have you ever thought maybe you depend on them too much Jack? I mean, what have they ever really done for you? Oh wait, I forgot, you got to be believed in… for a while anyway. How's that going these days Jack? Isn't your friend Jaime almost in the grave by now? Does he still see you? Or did he forget you when the memory faded?"

"No, he didn't forget me." Jack drew a leg up to his chest, choosing his words carefully. "As a matter of fact, a lot of people believe in me now. I provide fun." he looked Pitch up and down. "Maybe you need to find your center. Surely you have one besides fear."

Pitch narrowed his eyes at Jack his frown deepening at hearing the boy still had believers even now after sixty some odd years since they'd had their battle. He'd figured by now, the boy's small meager following would have died away to nothing. Once children grew up, they tended to stop believing, and since Jack wasn't like the other guardians that bribed the little brats, he had to wonder what he was doing to keep them believing, "Pfft. I don't buy it. How would you maintain a following? Do your fellow guardians bribe them to believe in you with little gifts like they bribe them to believe in themselves? And this whole talk of centers you keep bringing up, if mine isn't fear, than what would it be? I'm the nightmare king, I bring fear, that's what I do. I don't apologize for it. I won't." Pitch was becoming passionate now as he leaned in closer to Jack, "You and your fellow guardians don't understand that underlying all fear is a story of caution and awareness. One can't be happy and flippant their whole life Jack! Trust me, I know! Sooner or later you learn what it is to have everything you hold dear taken from you, and you'll realize you're all alone in the world! You learn to cope with it and let that fear show you what to avoid to keep you safe, so you can stop hurting and move away from the things that continue to bring you pain!" Pitch was breathing hard now, and his eyes widened slightly realizing he'd went on a bit of a tangent. He straightened and backed away from Jack now looking a bit uneasy with the fact he'd let too much of his emotions seep into the conversation. It was one of the downfalls of never being around anyone else; it left no reason to hold back, so Pitch didn't. Lately he was beginning to regret it more and more as these guardians seemed more than capable of digging these feelings out of him. It'd be much easier to just bottle them up and bury them.

Jack remained quiet, pursing his lips and nodding. "Pitch, I am alone. My family, everything I once held dear, died a long time ago. The Guardians are the only family I have now. But I've never let that stop me from enjoying life and having fun. Sooner or later you have to let the pain go and move on. If you don't, it'll destroy you. In case you haven't noticed, the Guardians are trying their hardest to make you a part of this family so you don't have to be alone anymore. The only one that's stopping it from happening is you. You're holding yourself back." Jack jumped off the bed and walked to the door. Stopping, he looked back at Pitch. "By the way, the Guardians don't bribe kids. They work to bring them joy and wonder, just as I work to bring them fun. We work to make their lives a little more magical. But then again, you wouldn't know anything about that." Jack turned and left the room.

Pitch watched Jack go, a small pout forming on his face. He knew Jack had suffered; his suffering was one of the things that Pitch had related to, but then Jack became a guardian, and all bets were off. Pitch had been jealous of him; it was part of the reason he lashed out at Frost so readily.

Jack's words sat with Pitch now as he reclined back on the bed. Could it be true? Was he holding himself back? No. They didn't really want him here, Pitch convinced himself. How could they? He was everything they stood against after all. The truth that Pitch refused to admit to himself was that what he was really afraid most of was rejection. It was easier to deny a family than it was to have one and lose it all over again. He'd had that pain once, and it had scorned him so badly that he'd let the fearlings bury it. He wasn't sure if he could handle that level of emptiness again especially now when he'd already lost so much. The guardians were eternal like himself, if he did accept them, and he disappointed them, where would that leave him? They'd throw him away, and he'd be more alone than ever. What was worse is that he would have to continue to face them throughout the entirety of their existence, so he'd never be able to hide from it or them. That would be too much to contend with, so Pitch continued to lie to himself keeping up the walls that he worked so hard to build.

What Pitch didn't realize was that his resolve had been shaken the first day that the guardians had taken him in. Little bit by little bit those walls he'd so meticulously built were beginning to crumble even against the nightmare king's best efforts. He did want a family, and subconsciously he was starting to unravel to the concept that he might actually be able to have one.

Pitch shook his head coming out of his own reverie. Glancing at his door now, he worried about further intrusion. Toothiana would knock, but obviously Jack did not, and North was in the air as to whether he would knock or not. Pitch was sure he would, but he was unsure after the initial knock how long the man could be held at bay on the other side of the door.

Considering this fact, Pitch decided that he would only take out one page from behind the mirror to decipher at a time as it would be far easier to hide one page within one of the books he'd borrowed than trying to hide several.

So it was that Pitch began the arduous task of trying to comprehend the dead language. He poured over just the one page for hours wishing he'd been a better study at this sort of thing. That was one of the perks of a few lifetimes of being utterly alone, one grew quite bored and found ways to occupy their time. The problem was that it had been so long since he'd learned and read the language, Pitch barely remembered any of the phonetics of it. How was he supposed to decipher it, if he couldn't fully understand it? He knew he'd get it eventually as over the four hours Pitch had spent so far on studying the page, it revealed enough for him to know this particular spell was a minor cleaning spell of sorts for polishing, washing, or scrubbing an object or mending of small holes in clothing. That could be a helpful spell Pitch thought. Who needs elves to do your chores for you when you have magic?

Washing the reindeer was Pitch's least favorite chore when it came to caring for them, and the thought of using this spell brought a wide grin to his face; he'd finish the task in half the time with very little effort on his part. This fact fueled his studies on as he continued fervently to work out the words to what he felt was well enough to practice.

Pitch was surprised when he'd looked up at the clock on the wall to see that almost the entirety of the day was gone now. He'd been in his room for almost nine hours undisturbed. He folded the page in half now sliding it in between the pages of his A Christmas Carol book feeling quite mentally exhausted now from the past day and a half's efforts as he laid the book on the night stand and curled up in his sheets to let himself get some much needed rest.

Pitch barreled across the sky on the back of a nightmare steed over a black sea that churned a tumultuous tide. This was freeing at first until Pitch realized that as he tried to get his bearings, in all directions there was no land to be seen. As far as could be seen there was nothing but an angry ocean that wreathed as if it were in the bout of a hurricane storm.

This was the first prick of uncertainty Pitch felt as he pulled back on the reigns now whipping his head about taking in the scene fully as he tried to remember how he'd gotten here and why he would be here to begin with. The nightmare released a wicked eerie sound that sounded like a tortured scream instead of a neigh; this however didn't bother Pitch as it suited him to have his beasts call out in a symphony of horror, but what did bother him was that the beast seemed spooked and bucked nervously now. Looking down to the waves beneath, Pitch watched as the surf began to roll at a greater velocity reaching toward the mare and its rider.

Pitch spurred the beast upward, and for a moment they ascended only to falter suddenly unable to gain altitude. The waves thrashed them for their efforts, and the nightmare sand that held the mare together began to melt under the breaks of water. It whinnied sensing its own demise and jetted as fast as it could in the current direction it was facing racing to who knew where. Pitch held on tightly worried himself as the swells of water ate away at the beast with every wave that crested towards them. Finally, the mare could run no more as its legs disintegrated, and it gave one last defeated wail as it lost cohesion entirely leaving Pitch to tumble head first into one of the rising waves.

His senses blurred as the water collapsed on him in hard slaps, and he sputtered as if he had to actually breathe. The torrent pulled him further down into the inky blackness until there was nothing. No light. No sound other than his own panicked chocked scream that bubbled out of his lungs. He was stuck in a stasis of sorts where the only thing he did feel was that he was continuously sinking further and further down to an endlessness that he couldn't fully comprehend other than the feeling that there was no escaping it. This of course made him struggle violently against this fate until realizing that there was no changing it as his limbs finally gave up their fight and his panic coalesced into despair.

It was then that Pitch saw a sparkle of light in the far distance, then another and another. They dotted the unlit canvas now growing closer at an accelerated rate. Golden dolphins darted towards him, and Pitch just watched them as a spark of hope creeped into his heart. They came to him streaking across the blackness and leaving trails of light in their wake.

Pitch was terrified they would pass right by him and leave him to his fate which would have been more damning then to have never seen them at all, but as Pitch reached out with the last of his strength, he felt the spongy texture of the dolphin's dorsal fin, and he hung on for dear life. The dolphin sped upward at an electrifying rate, and as they reached the surface, the sky was alight with a multitude of stars that shone brightly. The landscape was shifting and shaping into something beautiful as mountains erupted from the depths of the sea creating an alcove to an island that the dolphins led Pitch to. Pitch couldn't help but let out a strangled cry of relief as he climbed and stumbled lamely onto the beach collapsing to roll over and stare up at the sky now. It was not unlike what he'd remembered seeing so long ago in a time before he was the nightmare king. A time when this beauty reigned, and to look at its magnificence now left Pitch with a pang of sadness. He didn't deserve to see this since he'd been largely the reason it no longer existed now, but Sandy deigned to save him from the torture he deserved to give him something he didn't.

Pitch sighed, and Sandy seeing Pitch had finally leveled from the nightmare he'd been engrossed in moved his hand from Pitch's forehead to slide down his cheek.

Reflexively Pitch nuzzled his cheek into Sandy's hand's caress. What the man craved in waking and would not allow himself sought it out desperately now subconsciously.

Sandy gave him a sad smile brushing his hand tenderly across his cheek to gently brush the wild strands of hair back behind his ear.

This seemed to sooth Pitch as he sucked in a deep contented breath finally stilling.

Sandy had come to spend time with him as the guardians had discussed, but Pitch had been sleeping when Sandy had arrived and as par usual, he had been having a nightmare. It was a wonder Pitch ever slept on his own accord knowing what awaited him on the other side, but Sandy supposed he was likely desensitized to it by now to a certain extent. As much as one could be to having night terrors on a regular basis. It still left Sandman feeling unhappy that he nor any of the other guardians could ever help Pitch to not have to suffer them in the first place. The only thing Sandy could really do was damage control, but it was better than nothing at all Sandy contented himself with, and that would have to do. Sandy stayed for a while longer before finally leaving Pitch sleeping soundly.

Pitch woke hours later blinking slowly awake. His mind still imprinted with the images of starscapes. He lay there now just thinking about the dream and enjoying the allure that it left in his mind to return there. If only he could he thought absently. His eyes drifted to the clock; it was close to midnight now. Of course his eyes then fell on the mirror, and a niggling guilt started to formulate in the pit of his stomach. Pitch didn't like this feeling; he wasn't used to feeling it. He wanted to tell himself that he wasn't doing anything wrong. He planned to return the pages, he didn't steal them because he had all intentions to return them …just, not right now. The more he thought about it though, the unhappier the situation made him until he had an idea. He'd just record the pages onto his own paper to study at his convenience, and then he could sneak the pages back into the library. That was a win-win Pitch thought. He'd have the pages, and the originals would be back where they belonged. This idea satisfied him, and he rose out of bed now deciding to go search for some parchment and a pen.

The hallways were quiet as they normally were around this time of night, so Pitch glided confidently towards North's office. He was bound to be asleep by now, and Pitch knew there had to be plenty of supplies he could use to record the pages there. Approaching his office though, Pitch froze at the door a slight chill moving up his spine as he reached for the knob. The office was dark, so he doubted North was in it, but this also felt like it might be wrong to trespass into North's private sanctuary without the big man being present. He stood there for long moments before steeling himself that he wasn't doing anything wrong, and in fact he was trying to right a wrong that he'd already done. It's not like North would mind if he grabbed some paper, an ink well, and a quill right?

Pitch cracked the door open peering around the corner seeing that there was in fact no one in the office as he had suspected. Still, Pitch swallowed down the lump in his throat that had formed as he took a tentative step into the way too silent office. His heart was skipping beats now as Pitch's eyes darted around quickly looking for what he had been seeking. The ink well and quill was easy enough to find on North's desktop, but Pitch wasn't too sure where North kept his parchment and had to rummage about in his drawers looking for it until he found a stack. He had twelve spell pages, so Pitch grabbed fifteen pages in case he needed to redo any of the pages. Closing the drawer, Pitch breathed out a sigh of relief heading towards the door. Pitch was glad he'd finally acquired what he'd needed and could now leave North's office post haste.

Heavy footsteps sounded just outside, and the door to the office suddenly creaked open.

Pitch was almost to the door and froze in mid step wondering if he should hide. Thinking that would likely look very bad, and most definitely guilty, he resisted the urge. He worked to look nonchalant now assuming the person coming through the door would be North being it was his office. Pitch couldn't help clutching the papers to his chest a little bit too tightly in his nervousness. He hated being caught in North's office like this regardless if what he was grabbing was innocent enough; he still felt guilty for what he'd already done.

North stepped through the doorway, flipping the light on as he entered. He paused when his eyes landed on Pitch. The two locked eyes for a few seconds, then North's stare fell to the items Pitch was holding.

"Why are you in my office, Pitch?" North finally asked as he ended the sentence with a large yawn. He knew the answer to the question was in Pitch's hands, but he wanted to hear the answer coming from Pitch's mouth.

"Well, I… I was just looking… for this," Pitch proffered the items out weakly, "I… I wanted to do a little writing, and I didn't know anywhere else to get supplies. I didn't think you'd mind, and it being so late, I didn't want to disturb you," Pitch stood stiffly now only glancing at North doing his best to avoid eye contact.

North lifted an eyebrow. He was too tired to argue with the man, so he nodded and waved Pitch out, "Fine, fine," he said, another yawn working its way out. "Just go," He lumbered over to his desk chair and heavily sat down.

Pitch wasted no time arguing with North or prompting any further questioning as he scurried out the door and down the hall back to his room. His heart was hammering in his chest from such a close call, but he had successfully managed to get what he came for!

Feeling quite elated, Pitch was relived as he closed his bedroom door sliding down the door to sit on the floor to let his mind stop reeling from the close call. Once he had collected himself, Pitch got to work on the pages recording them as carefully and quickly as he possibly could. It still took him almost four hours to complete the 12 pages, and once he'd finally completed them, he let out a triumphant laugh. Yes, he was quite proud of himself! Once the pages were dry, Pitch carefully placed his newly made pages behind the mirror for safe keeping and gathered up North's pages to bring back to the library.

It was still the wee hours of the morning as Pitch peeked warily out the crack in his door and made his way into the hall to head in the direction of the library. The sooner he returned these pages the better! He managed to make it the library undetected, and even made his way back to the roll top desk. Listening intently and not hearing anyone coming, Pitch quickly rolled the top up and tossed the pages back into the desk breathing out a sigh of relief as he rolled the top back down.

Pitch made his way back down the corridors from the library strolling confidently now that any incriminating evidence was far away and back where it belonged… except the page he'd left folded in half within the A Christmas Carol book! He slapped his forehead; in his haste to get the pages copied and replaced, Pitch had forgotten to retrieve the original page he'd studied. No matter he thought; one page would be quite simple to hide. The sun was starting to rise, and instead of returning to his room, Pitch made his way to the reindeer stables. Jack would be coming soon, and Pitch was more than a little interested in seeing how the boy and the deer would react.