.

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When Pitch checks outside for Jack he's already gone.

Pitch can only wonder where that kid ran – or rather, flew – off to. He figures it would be pointless to look for him, and Jack had told him he would be back, so Pitch shrugs it off and goes back inside.

It's not like there's much to do, but he is really drawing a blank. He's awkward around Jack's home, not quite sure what he's allowed to touch and what's absolutely off limits. Finally he decides to take a seat on the couch because that's what couches are for and this is acceptable, right?

He is only able to sit down for an hour until he realizes that he's starting to get sleepy. He practically jumps off of the couch and forces himself to walk around to wake up, to stay awake. No sleeping. He decides to check out Jack's collection of knick-knacks that are spread out messily on the table. It's all random, really. A small jar, a thermometer, a cat figurine, a pencil sharpener, and a DVD are just a few of the things. Why would Jack want this stuff? Jack had agreed when Pitch called him a hoarder, but it's still bugging. Does loneliness really make you want to take things for yourself and throw them in your home and probably do nothing but stare at them?

Would Pitch have eventually done the same thing if he hadn't encountered Jack?

Pitch decides to look at more of the things Jack has collected. It's not very guest-like of him to do, he knows, but he honestly doesn't feel bad about it. Turns out that the overturned refrigerator is actually a cesspool for more junk. It's not organized at all; everything looks like it was tossed in carelessly. Pitch wants to organize it somehow, mostly because it's bothering him, but it would be made apparent that he was snooping if he did.

There's nothing in here that seems noteworthy. Then again, everything in here could be noteworthy but Pitch wouldn't realize because he's not Jack. He shuts the refrigerator door.

He refuses to actually touch the boy's sleeping space, but he looks around it. It's just made up of pillows and soft things. He realizes that there's a stuffed animal that looks like a bunny on the pillow mound, on its side, alone. It looks extremely worn. Its eyes are gone.

Pitch picks it up hesitantly. On the bottom are a few tags which once held the washing instructions and the name of the company who produced it. On one of the tags, practically washed out and hardly legible are some letters written in marker. It takes a while, but Pitch eventually makes out the letters P, H, I, and E. At least, that's what he thinks they are. PHIE. Is that supposed to be a name or something? He puts the bunny down.

Everything there is to do, he feels like he's already done. Of course, there's always the option of taking a fun journey outside into the snow and ice. As if it isn't cold enough in here already.

He almost wants to sit back down on the couch, but the chances of him falling asleep are too great. It's not like he can stay awake forever – can he? – but he wants to prologue it as long as possible. Besides, Jack probably won't be much longer.

But he is.

Two days.

Pitch considers leaving. But he physically can't. Jack flew him here and he would have to fly him out too. Besides the agonizing method of swimming in dangerous waters, Pitch is literally stranded.

Four days.

He finally realizes that he's not as human as he thought. This long without food? Definitely not human. How old is he, anyway? Just how long was he asleep? How long until…

Did Jack forget about him?

That thought dwells in his head painfully. To be forgotten. Why does that hurt so much? And why is it so familiar – the feeling of being forgotten? He can't exactly place where these feelings are coming from, but they are so vivid and real. He doesn't care if it's a memory trying to break through. He doesn't like this; he wants it to go away.

He has given up and is sitting on the couch, lightly dozing, when Jack finally returns. Pitch opens an eye to see Jack dumping a new collection of junk onto the table. Before Jack notices him, Pitch closes his eye and pretends to sleep, just to see what Jack will do. In reality, he's overwhelmed with both happiness and anger that Jack has returned after so long. He wants so badly to speak with him, to ask him where he was and why he took so long, but he holds it in, even though he's about to burst any second.

Jack's feet move lightly across the ground, but Pitch is still able to count his steps. Soon, Jack's presence is all Pitch can feel. He's practically hovering over him. The boy extends a hand out to touch the other's face, fingers grazing his skin but not quite. It seems like he wants to move his hand further, but he is quick to pull away.

"Are you awake?" Jack whispers carefully, as if he doesn't want to wake Pitch up if he isn't already.

Pitch stays silent and unmoving.

Jack takes this as an opportunity to lightly touch Pitch's cheek. Slowly, almost elegant, he sweeps his fingers over the other's chin and runs them down his neck to his chest. He stops there, hesitant. His hands are tough and cold; Pitch can't help but shiver. Plus, this is the first time he can recall ever been touched. It's strange. Jack either doesn't notice Pitch's shivering or doesn't care, because he leans in and presses his head again his chest. He takes a deep breath in and a slow, shaky breath out. Very quietly, he lets out a sob. That gives Pitch a start. When he opens his eyes, Jack is about to run his hands up his arms. Pitch doesn't understand. What is he doing and why?

"Jack," Pitch says not too loud but not too soft, before Jack can get a firm grip on his arms.

Pitch literally feels Jack's entire body grow tense. Pitch can't bring himself to say anything else. The two of them stay like that, in an awkward silence until Jack slowly tilts his head upwards to look at Pitch. He wears the same horrified expression he had when they first encountered each other.

Then, all of a sudden, Jack has let go of him and backs up far away at the opposite end of the room, looking terrified and ashamed. He starts laughing uneasily, maybe as a way to break the silence, but it just makes things more awkward.

"S-sorry about that," Jack says, smiling nervously and refusing to make eye contact with Pitch.

"It's fine," Pitch says without missing a beat. He means it, too. He's confused why Jack did what he did but he doesn't see what the big deal is.

"You're not mad?" He genuinely seems confused.

"No," Pitch says. "Why were you gone for so long?"

"Oh, uh." Jack looks around himself, rubbing his fingers together as he thinks. Has he always been this awkward in conversation or he is still nervous?

"It's nothing important," he says finally.

"Nothing important? You were gone for several days. I thought you…abandoned me." Pitch has to spit out the last two words. He doesn't like how those words make him sound. They leave a bad taste in his mouth.

Jack's eyes go wide, as if what was just said is absolutely horrible. The way he moves suggests he wants to approach Pitch but is too afraid too, because of earlier. Instead, he says, "I would – I would never abandon you, okay? I – I just wouldn't do that. I'm sorry I was gone for so long, okay? Alright?"

Pitch frowns. Not because he doesn't believe Jack, but because he actually feels bad for Jack. He feels like the boy is so nervous and cares too much about how Pitch feels about him. It's kind of unnerving but he can't hate Jack for it. He's allowed to be nervous, right?

"Alright," Pitch agrees. Jack smiles weakly, relieved.

He pulls down his hood and takes off his cloak, swinging it over one of the chairs. He does the same with the other layers of his outfit until he's only wearing a loose long-sleeve shirt and pants. Pitch calmly watches Jack as he sorts through his new findings, like he had never left, like nothing ever happened. Pitch feels like he should be angry but he isn't. He feels like Jack's attention span is too low to be mad. Pitch settles more comfortably onto the couch as the boy keeps himself amused with little trinkets.

"Who are the Guardians?" Pitch says eventually.

Jack stops what he's doing. "They were…"

He stops. He looks at Pitch for a moment, long enough to see the hope in his golden eyes, and looks away. He pauses heavily before saying, carefully, "They were… I mean, they were kind of like, I dunno, what their name suggests. They protected people. Well, they protected kids. They kept them happy by giving them good stuff like hope and wonder and dreams, you know?"

"Sounds…magical." Pitch feels like Jack is telling him a story. He likes it; he wants to hear more.

"Yeah, that's exactly what it was," Jack says with a soft laugh. "There was one, North, and he was this really jolly guy. He made toys for kids all around the world. Like, everywhere. It took him all year to prepare and then he'd deliver them all in one night."

Pitch almost wants to say wow, because that sounds pretty amazing, but he feels like that would be awfully childish of him, so he keeps his mouth shut. But by the look he gives Jack, he's practically asking him to please continue.

"And then there was Bunny. He was this giant man-rabbit who painted eggs for kids for Easter – you know, the holiday. And then he'd hide them and the kids would find them. It was supposed to be fun, you know? And he spent a lot of time on those eggs. It was – it was nice."

Pitch can't exactly read Jack's expression. He seems happy but at the same time, unbearably sad, like he's glad to tell someone this but it also pains him. Makes him feel bad but he's happy Jack is finally telling him something. He doesn't understand how this ties in with his past though.

Was he a Guardian?

"And then there was Tooth. She was really great. She collected children's teeth, you know, once they fell out and you seriously don't remember this?"

Pitch is taken aback. Jack still doesn't believe that he's telling the truth? He thought they cleared this up already.

"I really don't remember," Pitch says sincerely, trying to cover up any irritation he's feeling.

Jack looks down at the cluttered table, pressing his mouth into a thin line. "I just," he starts, "I just don't get it. After all this time, you're back. Why are you back?"

"I don't know," Pitch says, irritation now evident. "I thought that maybe, just maybe, if I came with you, I would figure that out."

"I don't know why you're back!" Jack nearly shouts.

"Then tell me who I am! Just who am I? You said that you knew me before, so tell me now. Who am I, or who was I? I want to know. I need to know."

Pitch just now realizes that he's not on the couch anymore, but standing up, only a foot away from Jack, who is also standing up and looking defensive. Pitch waits for a response for several minutes but gets none. He takes a deep breathe.

"Jack, please."

The boy looks away briefly like he's trying to decide on something and then looks back at Pitch. He shakes his head slightly. "Wouldn't you rather remember on your own? I'd be natural that way, right?"

Pitch sighs. "I don't want to remember. I want to know."

"You don't want to remember?" Jack's ears perk and he seems a bit thrilled by that statement. Very thrilled, actually. Like he's trying to cover up the full extent of the emotion. Pitch finds that odd.

"Just tell me."

"Sure," Jack says. Pitch is shocked by how fast his response is, but relieved. Until he hears the next part. "I'll tell you tomorrow."

"What?" He almost wants to laugh. "Why not now?"

"Because there are some things I want to show you."

"…What kind of things?" Pitch asks pointedly.

"Oh, you know, just some places I haven't been to for a while," Jack says with a face Pitch can't read and a shrug of his shoulders. Then he smiles. Unpleasantly, Pitch finds. "Well, some places we haven't been to for a while."

"Fine." What else can he say?

The boy's smile widens a little before he goes to plop down on his bed. He stretches and yawns obnoxiously and Pitch is guessing that that means Jack wants to sleep. He sits himself back on the couch and hunches over, his chin buried in his palm. He's surprised that he doesn't jump when two pillows are thrown at his head. He watches them fall into his lap and then glares at Jack, who looks at him innocently.

"Just thought I'd give you a few. Want another?"

Pitch frowns. "I don't sleep."

"Oh," is all Jack says, a little surprised, before he leans comfortably into the pillows. Within minutes, it seems like Jack has fallen asleep. He has an arm wrapped loosely around the stuffed bunny. It's weird seeing him like this, Pitch decides. He's so spontaneous awake, but like this, he's calmer than ever. It's nice. Pitch likes him better like this.

He walks over to Jack, looking down at his mostly still figure. He almost can't believe that he doesn't remember this boy, out of all things. Everything about him seems memorable. More annoying than anything else, but also memorable. He runs a hand through the boy's hair, sighs, and returns back to the couch. He finds himself settling on it and putting one of the pillows under his head. It's actually very comfortable. So comfortable that

he might just

fall

alsee–

He's drowning.

Black horses with wild, golden eyes charge towards him and he's trying, really, really trying, to get away but he can't and there's a grainy substance flooding his mouth as he's drowning, drowning, drowning, drowning so fast. He tries to keep breathing but he's being pulled down under and his heart is beating so fast that it might just burst. His body goes numb with panic as the sky and moon disappear above him and there's no oxygen, no light, no anything but darkness.

And it's the most horrifying thing ever.

He wants nothing in that moment more than to just fall asleep forever and to just for–

"You okay?"

What?

"Pitch!"

Who?

"Pitch, wake up!" A voice practically screams.

His eyes go wide.

No more sleeping.

He feels cold hands on his shoulders, shaking them hard. His eyes focus on whatever is on top of him. It takes him a moment for him to realize that it's Jack. He's on top of him and looking very concerned.

"Are you okay? You're shaking like crazy."

Jack's right – Pitch is shaking all over. He feels lightheaded and clammy. A groan bubbles in the back of his throat as he tilts his head back. The cool of Jack's body actually feels very nice. A part of him wants to press his body against Jack's, to cool down and he would just feel a lot better faster, but he would never.

"Did you have a nigh… Did you have a dream or something?" Jack asks carefully.

Pitch takes a deep breath, and says, probably a bit stupidly considering how it's hard to speak, "I was drowning. There were these…black horses. At least, that's what I think they were… I couldn't breathe."

Jack's face twists with horror. Pitch is pretty sure Jack didn't mean for him to see it, because he quickly looks away. All Pitch can do is stare at the boy while he regains his composure. He keeps taking deep breaths until his body decides to stop shaking. Jack has gotten up and retrieved a bowl filled with half-melted ice. He uses it to wet a rag and presses it against Pitch's forehead gently. The cool of it feels nice and his eyes flutter shut.

Jack goes back to re-wet the rag and presses it all down Pitch's face and neck. When the boy gets passed his neck, he pulls down his clothes to get the skin there too. By the time Jack is finished with his chest, Pitch is feeling better. He doesn't say anything though. He just calmly watches as the rag travels further down his body. This feels nicer than he would ever admit.

Jack stops when he gets to Pitch's lower belly. The hand that was pulling down his clothes comes to a stop and Jack just stares. He breaths in deeply and licks his battered lips before helping Pitch get his clothes back on and tossing the rag in the bowl.

"What else happened in the dream?" Jack asks suddenly.

Pitch sits himself up carefully. Now he's freezing. How the hell did a bad dream cause his body to overheat in such a cold place?

"It was just the horses. I think they were dragging me away somewhere," he explains. "Maybe…underground? Does that make sense? One second I could see the sky, and the next I couldn't. It was just so dark and I panicked."

He pauses.

"…Do you think it was a memory?"

Jack's lips twitch.

"I don't know," Jack says. "Here, if you're feeling better, let's head out, okay? I have a lot to show you. You are feeling better, right?"

The boy offers him a hand. Pitch stares at it for probably a moment too long before taking it. He almost loses his balance when he is pulled up, but Jack is there to help him. The boy grabs his pouch and takes a couple of things from the table to fill it. He retrieves his robe and then stops to look at Pitch, who curiously watches as Jack goes to his bed, and pulls out a black cloak from underneath all of the pillows. He holds it out to Pitch

"Here, I bet you've been cold for a while. Sorry about that. You can keep it," he says thoughtfully as he hands the cloak to Pitch. "Look, it matches."

Pitch mutters a thank you as he accepts it. Jack throws on his own cloak and looks back at Pitch, who is trying the new article of clothing on.

"You ready?"

"I've been ready," Pitch says, a little annoyed.

Jack just laughs and shoots out of the cave. Pitch, of course, follows, but there's a part of him that tells him that he shouldn't. Bad news, a voice in the back of his head whispers. He ignores it, because really, what other choice does he have?

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So that's the third chapter. I actually get to describe environments and the state of the world in the next chapter, whoopie. Oh, and to the person who said Jack's home reminds them of Wall-E's, then no, I didn't mean to do that on purpose. I think it's cool that you made that connection though.

The next chapter is where things start to get creepy so yeah that's supposed to be a warning.