Hello my lovely, brilliant readers!
I reached my five review quota! Wee~ I think for my next one I'll go for 10 reviews. That's not too much, yeah? I mean, I have about 390-something views. OOO:
(I am still un-Beta'd, so bear with me and my plethora of typos until I can get a Beta :D)
Anyways, here we go!

At the pole

"HAHA! Phil, you're too funny." North's hearty laugh rang through the enormous workshop, and he whacked the immense yeti on the back enthusiastically. "You joke like no other my friend, come see me when you have another." A grin was planted firmly on his genial face. The yeti garbled something incoherent, and North nodded as he turned, preparing to head back up to his office. "Of course. Jack is probably out making mischie-" He cut off as a warp hole appeared only inches away from where he had been about to set his foot, and his smile faltered as two figures materialized before his eyes.

The voice that had resonated with such joy and amusement only moments before was now hard and stern. "Jack! What have you done?" He asked, rounding on Pitch with his fists clenched. Pitch looked as if he were about to turn tail and run straight back through the portal, but it disappeared before he had time to secure his escape. North was just about ready to grab pitch and heave him straight out a window when I stepped in front of him, my hands raised defensively.

"This looks a little weird, but-"

"Looks a little weird? Jack, you used one of my snow globes to bring Pitch here, it's more than a little weird looking!"

I brought a hand up to rub the back of my neck. "Yeah, yeah, I know," I mumbled, an apologetic smile lifting the corners of my mouth. "I can explain it later… But Pitch needs his hand reset. He broke it."

North wore an incredulous expression as he glanced from me to Pitch and then back. "You… You can't be serious." He remarked, fixing his gaze back on Pitch. He seemed to examine him for a moment, his eyes resting momentarily on the hand that Pitch cradled. Pitch glared back at North, clearly unhappy about the whole situation.

"There is no other way to fix hand?" North asked, watching Pitch warily with his fists still clenched.

That's when Pitch spoke up, his voice low and annoyed. "I can't exactly walk into a hospital, now can I?"

Pitch's comment seemed to tip the balance, and North exploded into an unexpected bout of laughter –to which Pitch flushed and shot a glare at the back of my head-. It seemed North was back in good spirits, which meant he may help.

"Do you know anything about healing, North?" I asked, a reassured smile playing at my lips. North calmed a bit at my comment, and nodded, wiping away an invisible tear. "Of course, I've been living at pole for centuries; I've had to learn a trick or two with clumsy yetis all over the place." He replied, and Phil huffed, stalking off between an aisle of toys.

Whilst I was relieved by North's willingness to help, when I turned to look at Pitch, I could see that he was disheartened by the fact. He wore an almost dead-looking grimace. I lifted a hand to cover my mouth. Again, he looked like a pouting child.

"Now, now, Pitch. It's not the end of world. Let me see hand." North said, pushing me a bit gruffly out of his line of sight and extending a hand towards Pitch. I watched the exchange, almost amused. Pitch reluctantly offered his broken hand up to North, who took it, examining it in a much rougher manner than I had. Pitch cringed and hung his head as North tilted the hand this way and that. "You broke hand punching something, no?" North asked, feeling the bones in a gentler manner. "Jack must have done something very annoying." North's tone was light, joking.

"You think he punched me?" I asked with a laugh. "There's not a mark on my beautiful face."

Pitch's eyes shifted to me and my smile faltered a bit. His expression was something… strange. Agreement? When he realized that I noticed him, he flushed and looked back down at the ground. That was a look I had never seen on Pitch's face, and it puzzled me quite a bit. It wasn't just agreement… what was it…Admiration? At that thought my stomach flipped uncomfortably. Weird.

"I punched the globe." Pitch admitted in a quiet voice, focusing his gaze back on the hand that North was still examining.

"Ah, you have some temper Pitch. But this is not broken." North replied. He pressed his thumb to Pitch's palm, holding the heel of Pitch's hand in his other, and then squeezed, pushing his thumb up into the palm with an audible SNAP. Pitch yelped loudly and he yanked away, rubbing the sore spot on his hand with tears welling up around the corners of his eyes.

"Damnit, that hurt." He snarled with a shaky voice.

"Well of course. It should be fine now if we wrap it. It was just dislocated." North replied, grinning. He turned and walked towards the elevator that would take him up to the next level. "I will be back with a brace and some gauze. Watch him, Jack!" He called over his shoulder. "He is a tricky one!" Then he was gone, lifted away out of sight.

I traipsed over to one of the tables and sat comfortably on it, then leaned on my staff, watching Pitch as he examined the room.

"How does your hand feel?" I asked in a quiet voice.

"Fine." He replied, glaring at everything but me.

I raised a brow at his short answer. He seemed to be avoiding my gaze. I hopped off my perch and walked over to him, tilting myself so I was in his line of sight. "I know it's not your cup of tea to ask for help, but-"

"No, Frost. It's not. And it's certainly not… right to ask help of your enemies."

His eyes didn't look mean or angry anymore. In fact, he looked almost tired. Again the word 'defeated' came to mind. He wasn't just defeated in the sense that the guardians had overcome him. He looked like he felt defeated inside. Lifeless.

"We don't… have to be enemies…" I mumbled, biting my lower lip. What was I saying?! This was Pitch Black; the Boogeyman; the Lord of darkness! What would the guardians think if they knew I was proposing friendship, or anything besides pure unadulterated hatred? Although something inside me longed to help him.

Something he had said days ago snapped into my memory. 'I don't know what it's like to be cast out; not to be believed in! to long for… a family…'

That's what he had said as I attacked him on the tip of an iceberg just a few miles away from here. Who's to say those were lies? Who's to say he didn't actually feel lonely and need some sort of connection?

Pitch was silent for a long time, and he turned away, leaving me to stare at the back of his head.

"Will you at least think about it?" I asked, prodding the small of his back. He flinched away and then glanced back at me. His face was still slightly flushed, and his expression was… what, hopeful?

"Possibly."