Mark was sure that rain followed him wherever he went.

He trudged through the busy streets of London, grumbling under his breath as he tightened his drenched coat around himself, attempting to keep warm. He had been in this city for a week, and it had rained for just as long. He was very irritated by it, and it was almost enough to get him to pack up and leave. If it weren't for the nests.

Over the last twenty-five years, Mark had been hunting and killing all nests that were linked to Esma. The woman ran a very large and complex organization of nests, reaching across land and sea. London was one of the central points for one of her larger nests, and Mark had set himself up here in order to track them down and kill them. So far, he had taken down six smaller clans and two large ones, like the one here in London. It had been his mission ever since Ireland. Ever since Jack.

Mark pulled his hat low over his eyes as he turned the corner, the rain pelting harder against his body. His thoughts drifted to Jack, as they often did with or without his consent. After Jack had died, Mark had sat there, clutching his corpse as he sobbed, and long after the tears had dried and he just held him. When he finally had the strength to move again, he carefully picked up Jack's body, trying to ignore the cold feeling of his pale skin, how all colour had gone from his face. He had taken his body to Jack's family, leaving him in his own bed. He had waited around until his father had gone to check on Jack, waited as the family mourned. Waited and watched from afar as they buried Jack's body in the ground, planting an oak tree in place of a cross. He had waited for the family to be long gone as he approached the grave, the sun casting an orange haze across the field. Mark had stood there, so many thoughts had gone through his head, and he had been unable to voice any of them. As a single tear had made its escape down his cheek, he had pressed his fingers to his lips and knelt to place his hand on the earth that had his love entombed forever, and walked away. As he left Ireland behind, he made it his everlasting goal to find Esma, and destroy her.

Mark brought himself out of his thoughts as he approached the blacksmith. He had been sent to pick up on order for the elderly couple that has been housing him. After spinning a tale of sorrow, and turning on the charm, the couple agreed to house him while he was here, and in return he would fix up their house that they no longer had the ability to do, as they had lost both their children and were completely on their own. The man had come before to order the materials from the blacksmith, known as Jonathan Williams.

The shopfront was simple, red bricks, a small window and a door, with a sign that jutted out from above it stating it as “Williams Blacksmith” in simple lettering carved into the sheet metal. Mark opened the door hearing a jingle as he entered the small shop. The walls were lined with shelves holding various tools and materials. Off to the side was a work bench along with an anvil, and a door on the far wall. No one else was present.

“Hello? Mr. Williams?” Mark's voice sounded much louder than it was in the crowded shop. In response he heard a clank and grumbling from somewhere in the back. After a few moments the door opened and a man stepped out, rubbing his head, with goggles on his face.

“Ack, sorry ‘bout that. Lost track of time back there, forgot about the order for pick up.” Jonathan's accent was more posh than Mark expected from someone of his standing.

“Ah, it's quite alright Mr. Williams-”

“Oh, please. That's my father's name. Call me Jonathan, or Jon. And you are?” He spoke with his back to Mark as he puttered a bit at the bench and removed his goggles turning to face Mark as he asked his name.

“Mark, nice to meet-” Mark's breath caught in his throat as he met Jon's face. The man was about half a foot taller than him, he had to look up slightly, blond hair tied back from his face, and his eyes, blue eyes, like the ocean.

Like Jack's eyes.

Jon looked at Mark expectantly, slightly unsure as to why Mark was suddenly frozen in place, lost in his own thoughts.

“Uh, yea, nice to meet you. So, you're here to pick up the materials Mr. Allard ordered, ya?” Jack- no, Jon- asked as he started to gather things from the bench. Mark snapped out of his daze and back to the present.

“Yes, yes. I'm here to, uh, to get the supplies for Chris, er, Mr. Allard.” Mark mentally cursed himself for his tied tongue, though Jon seemed amused.

“Yes, well. He paid for them when he placed the order, so that's taken care of. Just have to go grab a few more from the back. Be just a tick.” Jon left the front of the store and Mark had a few minutes to himself. He was losing it. Had to be. Seeing Jack where he wasn't, he had done it multiple times before, right after. Except the only thing this man seemed to have in common were his eyes. The hair, height, accent, everything was completely different. But those eyes. Mark would recognize them anywhere.

Mark scolded himself. It was merely a coincidence. It's not like there were a ton of different eye colours. He was being ridiculous. He pushed all thoughts of Jack out of his head so he could finish with his business here. Jon returned from the back and bagged everything together for Mark.

“That's everything for ya. Come back anytime ya need more materials.” Jon beamed at Mark and the familiar crinkle in his eyes made Mark's knees weak. He squeaked out a confirmation and reached for the bag. As he grabbed it, his hand brushed Jon's and he felt a familiar, though long missed, shock of electricity jolt through his body. His eyes widened at the feeling, and he heard a gasp from Jon. Both men pulled their hands back and the items dropped to the ground, the metal clinking together within the bag. Mark looked at his hand then up at Jon who was flush bright red and spluttering a bit, his heart rate picking up slightly.

“Oh, Lord. Uh, my apology. I don't know what happened there. Felt like I got shocked or something. Heh. Odd.” Jon bent down to pick up the items, missing the way Mark physically sighed at the sound of his name on Jon's lips. It had a similar inflection to Jack's Irish lilt. God, what was happening here?

Jon stood back up and handed the materials back to Mark, careful not to touch hands again. He let his hands drop to his sides, shuffling his feet awkwardly as they both stood there before Mark realized he should probably leave.

“Well, thank you, Jon, for your service. I'll be sure to return if we need more supplies.” Mark punctuated this with a nod, as he spun on his toes and walked back outside into the dreadful rain. He tucked the bag under his coat, tugged his hat down and started on his way. He got a couple feet when he heard bells behind him followed by “Wait!”

Mark stopped, turning back to Jon whole took a few quick strides up to him, looking down.

“It's just, uh, I don't recognize you, and I know the Allards fairly well and Mr. Allard told me you were living with them for the time being and well, if you needed someone ta, ya know, show ya around the neighbourhood, feel free to stop by my shop.” he wasn't looking Mark in the eye as he hopped from one foot to the other, wringing his hands. The rain was pouring down, soaking Jon only after a few moments. A few strands of hair that had come undone from his tie were dangling in his face and the water dripped down his face. Mark felt a familiar warmth bubbling inside his gut, and he couldn't help but smile at him.

“I might take you up on that.” Was all the said as he turned and left Jon standing in the rain with a surprised smile on his face.

Mark was seriously questioning his sanity at this point.

After he got back to the house and dropped off the materials, he warmed himself up by the fire before joining the Allard’s for dinner. He listened as they idly chatted, answering questions politely but minimally. He liked the couple, they were quiet and kind, but Mark could tell they didn’t have much time left. Their hearts were slowing, starting to fail. Mark hoped he could help make the last of their time together more comfortable. After he helped clear and wash the dishes, he retreated to the cot they had set up for him in the main room. The house had three rooms, a bedroom, a kitchen and dining, and a den. Christopher had been a traveling merchant in his early days, but had left to settle down with his wife, Elise, and with the money he saved was able to afford a three roomed house and he worked as a tradesman. For their class, it was a fairly expensive living arrangement, but it worked out well for Mark.

As he laid in the cot he thought of Jon and Jack. When he touched Jon, the same feeling that he received back whenever Jack and him touched had run its course through Mark's body. He had never felt that same feeling again after Jack, and he had never met someone with the same ocean blue eyes. And here comes Jon, with both traits. What were the odds of that? He'd guess pretty slim.

Mark tossed under that blanket, closing his eyes and picturing Jack's face, his bright smile, short brown hair and bushy eyebrows. His bright blue eyes that shone with all the exuberance and excitement that was held beneath the surface. Mark felt tears prick his eyes but he refused to cry.

As he lay there, he thought of Jon's offer to show him around. He had been so shy and timid, so different from Jack yet so similar. He didn't understand and he couldn't help the guilt he felt at these feelings towards Jon's. He loved Jack, he always would. But could he be allowed to feel for another? He knew what Jack's answer would be. Mark heaved a heavy sigh. Should he take him up on his offer?

Part of him wanted to refuse, the part that was desperately clinging onto Jack's memory. But the other, the voice that always sounded like Lukas, was telling him to let go of the past and move on. He knew Lukas had multiple lovers over the years he was alive, and Mark was so terribly lonely. After having a taste of what he did with Jack, he found himself weak against the desire. There wouldn't be any harm in meeting up with Jon. He needed to continue his life, try to find some happiness in the void. He needed to move on. But not forget.

Never forget.

The following day he went back to Jon's shop right before closing. Jon was surprised to see him, but quickly masked it with attempted nonchalance. Mark found his slight awkwardness charming and endearing. He waited for Jon to close up shop and they headed out. It was so achingly familiar to his nights out with Jack, yet so excitingly new. There were similarities, both prattled on, though Jon with less confidence. But there were also difference, Jon was an only child, and he lost both his parents in a fire when he was just shy of being an adult. He knew the Allard’s because they had helped him on his feet afterwards and he continued in his father's shop. They were able to connect over the loss of their parents, a pain Jack hadn't been able to understand. Jon was so timid and reserved, but when he got going he could see the energy that reminded him so much of Jack. He loved his job, and was happy with his life. They talked about their love lives, to which Jon openly admitted he preferred the company of men over women. Mark was surprised at his openness, but Jon amended by the fact that London was more accepting of that type of lifestyle. It was still illegal for same sex to wed, but as for courting, it wasn't as reprimanded. Mark found it refreshing to see the world start to change before his eyes. He was about sixty now, and if there was one thing he could enjoy with his apparent immortality, it was to be able to see the world shape and form, hopefully for the better.

This continued for a few weeks, and Mark found he quite liked London, aside from all the rain. The Allard’s were kind people, and he slowly opened up with them more, and he had been fairly successfully in hunting down this nest, picking them of a few at a time. The best strategy he found, when dealing with larger nests in cities, was cornering them when they were on their own or in small groups. He had to make sure he wasn't spotted and was living in an area that wasn't near any of the main nests. It was always a gamble, staying in one area for too long. He put those around him at risks, but so far things had been going well, and he was enjoying being around Jon. Many had started to scatter, as they found they were being hunted. Not as ideal as killing them, but it did break the nest apart, taking down another notch in Esma’s regime.

As the weeks went by, they grew closer and closer, and Mark’s feelings slowly deepened. His feelings for Jon rivaled that he felt for Jack, and as time went by he slowly started to feel his guilt melt away, and part of him wondered if life had given him a second chance through Jon, a second chance at love. They were having dinner together one night, and Jon seemed nervous, barely eating his food and shifting in his seat.

“Jon, what is it? Something seems to be bothering you.” Mark put his fork down, and placed his hand on the table near Jon, offering to him. He had found after the first week that Jon was too shy to initiate any kind of contact, and Mark had taken great pleasure in the squeak and blush he had gotten when he had first taken Jon’s hand when they were walking about. After that is was rare for him to make the first move.

Jon stopped moving, staring at his plate for a moment before making eyes contact with Mark. While Jon was fairly reserved and quiet, his eyes always spoke volumes of expression, at least for Mark. Watching his eyes light up whenever they touched, as that current swam through their bodies. They hadn’t done much past hand holding and the occasional embrace when they were in the confines of his home, but Mark could feel himself yearning for more.

“Mark, I... I know it's only been a few weeks, not a very long time, but I’ve r-really enjoyed the time I’ve spent with you. I-I’ve never felt this way about someone before, and I, uh.” He was starting to get flustered, his heart picking up speed. Mark moved over to kneel at his feet and clasped Jon’s hands that he was wringing together furiously. He watched Jon’s intake of breath at his touch, and watched as he immediately relaxed. Mark didn't think he would ever tire of that feeling, the same as he would never tire looking into those blue eyes.

“Jon, I feel the same way.” Mark squeezed his hands and stood, bringing Jon with him.

“I... I know this is just a temporary installment for you, and you’ll be leaving at some point, but, I can’t let you leave without telling you.. Without making sure you know...” His face was flushed, eyes filled to the brim with emotion. Mark took pity on him, cupping his cheeks and leaning in.

“I love you, Jon.”

Jon’s eyes widened with surprise, before he let loose the most breathtaking smile that lit up his entire being.

“I love you, Mark.”

They shared their first kiss that night, and they slept together in Jon’s bed, holding each other. It had been twenty-five years since Mark had felt this happy, and being in Jon’s arms as he held Mark, arms wrapped securely around his waist, Mark's head on his chest, listening to his steady breathing and beating heart, he finally felt like he could call this home.

Mark didn’t really know why he was expecting this time to be any different.

The sun was streaming through the small window into the room. Mark had been awake most of the night, merely reveling the feeling of being in Jon’s arms, but at some point was lulled into a light sleep by the steady rhythm of his heart. He was alone in the bed, Jon had already gone to work, so Mark took his time getting up and dressed. Jon had left some food out for him from his morning meal, but Mark had been here almost every night eating dinner, so he had taken to not eating any other meals during the day now. It was a task to keep up the pretenses of being a normal person when you saw someone every day. As Mark was about to leave, he could hear a commotion outside. Yells and screams, somewhere within the city. He focused his hearing trying to pinpoint the area. His heart stuttered when he realized it was around the district that Jon’s shop was. He bolted out the door, and started sprinting towards Williams Blacksmith. As he neared he could see smoke rising above the shops and houses. Mark picked up his pace, vaguely aware he was running much faster than a normal human would. The cries rang in his ears as smoke hung in the air. He rounded the corner and skidded to a stop, heart stopping in his chest.

Men and woman were crowded around as men worked at the hand tub, spraying water at the ever growing flames that engulfed Jon’s shop.

“JON!” The scream was barely heard over the commotion in the street and the roaring flames. Mark looked around in hysteria as he pushed his way through the horde of pedestrians. He spotted Mr. and Mrs. Allard standing nearby and barreled towards them.

“Chris, Elise, have you seen Jon, is he okay?” Mark grasped Christopher by his shoulders, panting in fear.

“Mark! Oh dear boy, we were hoping he was with you. The smith went up in flames merely half an hour ago, it was already opened.” Elise was near tears and Mark turned back to the shop. Jon was in there. He had to be. Mark tore away from the Allard’s, there protests following him as he dodged past the men working to put out the fire and barged into the shop.

The searing heat was immediate and the flames licked at his skin, burning him. He hissed in pain, and looked around, gagging on the smoke that filled his lungs. He yelled Jon’s name, as he weaved through fallen beams and around broken floor boards. He made his way to the back room calling again. Through the sizzling and crackling of the fire he picked up a moan coming from the back of the room. He rushed over, narrowly avoiding the piece of the ceiling that fell, and was met with the gruesome sight of Jon, pinned beneath flaming rubble. His clothing was charred and on fire, blood covered his face, streaming down from his head. He had horrible burns covering his body and half his face. Mark screamed for him, tears streaming down his face and drying from the heat of the fire. He gagged as he made his way to Jon. He tossed the rubble aside, kneeling beside Jon. His breathing was ragged and wheezy, and his eyes were slits. Mark let his hands hover above him, unsure as where to grab not wanting to cause him pain.

“Oh, God. Jon, stay with me okay? I’ll get you out of here. Just stay awake.” Mark carefully slipped his arms under Jon, grimacing at the pained moan that he released. “I’m sorry, it’s okay. I got you, I’m getting you out of here.” His body was covered in grime and soot, his skin was bubbling from the severe burns, half his face looked like it was melting. Mark choked on a sob as he started to make his way to safety. He felt a tug on his shirt and looked down at Jon.

“M... Mark-k..” He wheezed. “I’m s-sorry, I-I’m sorry.” Jon coughed and gagged, sludge oozing from his mouth.

“Shh, Jon, it's okay. It’s okay.” Mark was almost out of the store, he could see the street milling with people.

Jon wheezed again. “I’m sorry, for lo-osing t-twice...” His gripped slipped a bit from Mark's shirt. “Mark, I love y-you. Remember me.”  Jon fell lip in his arms just as Mark stepped out into the street.

“No, please, Jon wake up, wake up! You’re okay, see? I got you out, I saved you. I saved you this time.” Mark choked on sobs, falling to his knees and he clutched at Jon, rocking back and forth, wailing into the night surrounded by crackling flames and somber cries.

Mark let out a yell at the pain that shot through his leg, falling to one knee, but quickly pushing himself up. He heard the others chasing after him, gaining ground. Mark ran as fast he could on his injured ankle, fairly sure it was broken. His vision was a little blurry from the blood dripping down his face and he was clutching at his chest, a gaping wound oozing blood. He had been taking down a nest that had been terrorizing a town in the Spanish Empire alongside another hunter he had met up with. He had been looking into the nest already when Mark had arrived. It wasn’t one of Esma’s, but needed attending to all the same. The Hunter was an odd one, very closed off, very professional. Mark had noticed that his hair had started to grey a bit, which, as far as he understood, should not be possible given their biology. He didn’t pry though. He had the feeling it was best to leave personal questions out with this man. He introduced himself as Brian, and proposed they work together on this hunt, though it had sounded more like an order which Mark had bristled at. Though there was something about the man that intrigued him, and he was very intelligent. They moved in quickly on the nest, and things had been going well, until reinforcements had arrived.

They were quickly outnumbered, and it was a fight for their lives just to get out, Mark had taken a stake to the chest, just nicking his heart. It was an unbelievably painful sensation. They had been separated at some point, and here Mark was, barely staying on his feet, racing from his pursuers, trying to keep his from bleeding out. He had been in a forested area and came up to cattle fields. He needed to take the chance and hide, he wouldn't be able to outrun them. He was hoping the smell of manure would be enough to mask his scent and the blood. Running over to the pasture, he dipped down behind a trough. Holding his breath and trying to slow his heartbeat. He had learned a technique that allowed himself to slow his heartbeat down to a rate that could possibly kill a human. He focused his breathing and turned his mind inwards, cutting off all his senses. He felt the blood pumped through his body and his heart rate slowed. Thinking back, Mark should have realized what a dimwitted idea that was, with the damage to his heart. Hfelt his mind blur as he was hit with intense vertigo, dots dancing across his vision. He fell on his back, as he lost consciousness.

When Mark woke, he was fairly certain this was the most comfortable he had been in a long time, and he sank into the bed, nuzzling his head into the soft pillow with warm light shining in through the window. After a moment his eyes snapped open as he realized he was no longer laying on the ground in a pasture. He also noted that he was no longer wearing a shirt, and had different pants on. His chest was bandaged, along with his head and his leg was elevated. He began to sit up, quickly derailing that idea as pain blossomed in his chest. He hissed in pain, clutching at his sides as he leaned back on his arm. He looked around the room he was in, it was small, just big enough for the bed and a table and chair. The table had what looked like medical supplies, fresh and bloodied gauze, along with his clothing. He heard a ruffling, and he snapped his head over as a man walked in through the curtain covering the doorway.

“Ah! Good to see you are awake now. Feeling any better, yes?” The man sat at the chair, and began inspecting Mark's wounds.

Mark stared.

“Well, it looks like nothing is infected. You had quite the injury my friend. It was certainly a surprise to find you there, laying on the ground in my pasture. How on earth did you end up there?” He pulled back, turning to the table and preparing a cloth. Mark barely flinched at the electric feeling that had coursed through him.

He stared.

The man turned back, using the cloth to clean some of the grime still on Mark's body and wiping the perspiration from his head. “Are you going to answer me or continue to stare at me like I have two heads?” He paused his actions, looking back at Mark. “Do you not understand francais?”

Mark stared.

The man sitting in front of him appeared to be slightly taller, had long black hair, a van dyke style beard and sun kissed skin.

Along with ocean blue eyes.

Mark continued to stare at him, without really seeing. What was happening? First Jack, then Jon and now this man? It had been nearly thirty years since Jon, and out of the blue this man, and with those same blue eyes and electric touch. Mark felt woozy, and his vision swam. This was too much. He was still weak from his injuries, his heart still damaged. Maybe he was still asleep, laying in that field and this was just a dream. He would wake up and wouldn't be confronted with what seemed like another reincarnation of Jack. He heard the man call out to him as he drifted into nothing.

When Mark woke again, he was alone, and the sun was rising. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, he was sure it had been a day at least. He was still fairly immobile due to his injuries. Since his heart was injured, it affected his usual regeneration cycle. His body would heal at a mortal pace while his heart mended itself, and that alone takes a few days. He sighed and laid back in bed. He thought about the man with Jack’s eyes. How has he met three people now, both with the same eyes and same ability to set his nerves on fire just by touch? This wasn’t just a coincidence.

As he thought about it more, Jon had been twenty-five when he had died, which was exactly how long it had been since Jack’s death, right down to his date of birth. Mark had found it odd, but let it slide, though keeping it tucked away for further speculation that never happened when he lost Jon. And this man, whoever he may be, looked to be around thirty himself, from what he saw in his face and expression. Could these men really be the same person? All be Jack? And if so, for what purpose? Both Jon and Jack have died, soon after meeting Mark. Would that be this man's fate as well?

He needed to leave. He couldn't risk the chance of someone being killed because of him. He sat up, groaning in pain, but he pushed through. He swung his legs over the side, breathing heavy and sweating. He tested his ankle, which had been bandaged and splinted, and found he could hobble on it well enough. He grabbed his clothes and made his way out of the room. As he stepped out, the man walked in from outside. Mark stopped in his tracks, meeting his eyes and he closed the door behind him and removed his shoes.

“And where do you think you are going sir?”

“I’m leaving. Thank you for treating my wounds, I will get out of your way.” Mark moved to go but the man stepped in front of him.

“Nonsense, you are still healing, you must rest and recover from your wounds. Please, go back to the bed. It is of no trouble to me.” He gestured behind Mark.

“I am fine, I really should be heading on my way. Thank you for your hospitality.” Mark moved to go around him, but the man grabbed him by the arm. Mark looked sharply over at him, trying to hide the emotions in his face. “Please, let go of me.”

The man paused, but did not release Mark. “Please, you are still gravely injured. It is not safe for you to be out right now, not this close to the border, with the war. Stay here, rest, heal, then you can be on your way.” He pleaded. Mark thought it over. He shouldn’t stay, not with how odd this situation was with him and the others, but he had a point. Mark was still very weak, and between the war with France and the powers of Europe, along with the other vampires still being out there, Mark wouldn’t last long.

The man’s words finally caught up with him. He had been in Spain when in the nest with Brian. On the chase, he must have crossed the border into France. He wondered if his fellow hunter had made it out like he had. Mark sighed, mind made up.

“Very well, I’ll stay, but only until I am healed.” The man smiled, releasing Mark's arm.

“My name is Jacques, Jacques Bennart, at your service.” He gave a sweeping bow to Mark, his hair framing his face as he glanced up at Mark through his dark lashes, making eye contact for a moment before swiftly standing back up. “But you can call me Jaq.” Mark did his best to ignore the flutter in his chest.

“Mark.” He stated, turning back to the bedroom. Jaq followed behind quickly, as Mark placed his clothes back on the table.

“Mark…?” He questioned as Mark slowly crawled back into bed, teeth gritted in pain.

“Just Mark.” he grunted out, and pulled the covers over his legs.

“Well then, Mark, you rest up. I’ll be out on the farm working. I’ll come check on you every now and again. Try not to get into trouble.” He smirked at the withering look Mark sent his way. He turned to leave.

“Are these your pants?” Mark blurted out before he could stop himself, an immediately felt abashed. Jaq turned back and smiled.

“Why, yes they are. Why do you ask?” Mark shifted in place, feeling his neck flush a little. He was only ever an awkward mess under those blue eyes.

“Just asking, I assume you changed my clothes…” Jaq laughed.

“Oh Mark,” His flush worsened for a different reason. “No need to be so shy.” He moved to leave before throwing one more glance back at Mark. “And trust me honey, you have no need to be shy.” He winked before leaving. Mark spluttered, his face red as a tomato. He flopped back down to his bed, staring up at nothing.

This was going to be an endeavor.

As the days went, Mark slowly healed. His ankle hadn’t been as severe as they thought so he was able to get up and move about after a couple days. He helped out by preparing meals and cleaning for Jaq while he worked on his farm. Once again, there were similarities to Jon and Jack within Jaq. He was exuberant like Jack, but still reserved like Jon. Though Jaq had much more confidence in his advances than both of them. Every chance he had, his hand would brush Mark, his shoulder, back, sides. He sat closely to him while they ate, and was always throwing sexual quips when possible. Mark thought he was going to implode from the tension that had been building up in him. To make the matters worse, he once again felt himself falling for Jaq. Aside from all the sexual advances, he was a very gentle and caring man. Sometimes he would sit outside and watch him work with the animals. He had such a way with them, able to coax them through any task, and he was so open with them. Mark could see a vulnerability about him that wasn't there when it was just them. Mark had asked him about it, while eating one night.

“I’ve always been around animals. My family had a cattle farm before me, and their families before that. It’s in my blood.”

“Where is your family now?” Mark questioned.

“My parents have recently passed, and my sister married off to some merchant long ago. It’s only me now. These animals are my family.” He flushed a little at the comment, not meeting Mark's eyes. Mark smiled. “Eh, what of your family?” He changed the subject.

Mark didn’t see any reason to lie. It had been sixty-five years since he lost his parents, and while he still mourned, he had moved on from the loss, accepted it. “My older brother passed when I was eleven, and my parents when I was twenty.” Was all he said. He remembered to sound a little more sorrowful, seeing as to Jaq, it would seemed to only have happened a few years ago.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry.” Jaq grabbed Mark's hand, rubbing the back with his thumb. He met Jaq’s eyes and saw a bit of that openness there that he saw with the animals. He felt his defenses crumble a little more.

It had been two weeks since he ended up at Jaq’s farm, and he was fully healed. Though he feigned still being sore for the sake of human reasoning. Over the two weeks Mark had grown close with Jaq, albeit against his best intentions, and he found himself not wanting to leave. He also found himself wanting to indulge in the man’s advances and getting acquainted with the French mans mouth. But Mark needed to leave.

He confirmed Jaq’s date of birth was indeed the day Jon had died. The odds of that happening twice were slim to impossible, coupled with the attributes Jack, Jon, and Jaq shared. Hell, even their names were all similar. If this truly was what he thought, he needed to leave before Jaq got hurt. He was packing up to leave when Jaq got back inside.

“Eh well, cattle seemed kind of spooked today. Wonder if there's a storm coming- Mark? What are you doing?” Jaq stopped at the door, as Mark settled the bag of provisions and extra clothing Jaq had given him.

“I’m healed enough, and I’ve impinged long enough on your home. I should be going.” Mark said simply, though he was fighting a wave of desire to take Jaq into his arms, with him standing there all sweaty from his work outside.

“Oh that it, is it?” Mark was taken aback by the anger in his tone. “‘I’m healed, time to go!’ Have you not enjoyed your time here Mark?” He stepped forwards, finger pointed accusingly at Mark.

“Well yes-”

“Are you not sheltered here, fed and cared for?” Jaq was right in front of him. Mark was starting to get annoyed.

“Yes, I have been-”

“Then why leave? You don't have any family, no lover you've spoken of. Why not stay here? I can take care of you Mark.” He had a slight pleading tone infused with his anger.

“I can take care of myself, I must be going.” He shoved past Jaq, he needed to leave now, before his defenses crumble on him once again. Jaq shot around and grabbed Mark, pulling him back to him.

“Hey! Don’t you walk away from me!” He pulled Mark against his chest, and backed him against the wall. “What seems to be the problem here?”

They were both breathing heavily, and Mark was plain pissed off at the events, but he felt lust making itself known in the pit of his stomach, the proximity of Jaq, and the adrenaline from his anger, along with the feeling of his touch was overloading Mark's senses. He gripped Jaq and flipped them, pinning him against the wall. Jaq let out a gasp, eyes wide and Mark stared into his ocean blue eyes. 

“My only problem, right now, is you.” Mark said with a low voice. Jaq shivered in his arms, eyes falling closed before looking back at Mark.

“Why don’t we fix that problem then?” Jaq pushed forward, pressing his lips against Marks, and wrapped his arm around his neck. Mark felt his body explode with nerves, the feeling of Jaqs mouth on his overloading him and sending all kinds of sensations through his body. He felt Jaq run his tongue along his bottom lip, asking, and Mark answered by sticking his own tongue in Jaqs mouth. The two kissed aggressively, both grasping and pulling at each other. When they pulled back to catch their breath, foreheads pressing together, breathing coming heavily.

“So, where were you going again?” Jaq breathed, a smirk on his gorgeous face.

“Right now, we are going to your bedroom.” Mark breathed back before latching back onto his lips and hoisting Jaq up, his legs wrapping around his waist and walking to the bed. 

They made love that night, both professing under the covers in the heat and lust of it, they committed to each other. They lay in bed, holding each other, as the slowly drifted off, calm and serene, only to have it broken by the sounds of screams and cries, the sounds of wood splintering and bodies crushed. The Spaniards had attacked the town they were in, being right on the border. They tore down buildings, burned down homes, slayed families. Mark and Jaq tried to escape, but Jaq wanted to fight. Mark had lost track of Jaq, but when he found him, as he ran up to him, a sword came protruding through his chest. Mark felt something die inside him, as he watched Jaq fall to his knees, reaching out for him, calling Mark's name. Mark froze, then he turned and ran, before he could see his body hit the ground, watch the life drain out of those eyes for the third time. As he ran, his name drifted around him, a familiar Irish lilt filling his ears.

Mark sat atop a hill, overlooking the town as it went up in flames. He had not shed any tears for Jaq, rather sat there, this hollow and empty feeling that took over his entire being. Mark had once thought that Jon was his second chance at love, the rebirth of Jack. Now though, with Jaq, he knows what it really was. This was his punishment. He was destined to meet his love, see those eyes, feel his touch, be unable to resist the temptation, and just when he embraces it, his love is snatched away from him, life taken. This is Mark's fate, for the monster he has become. He sat there, watching over the town as the fires slowly went out, his happiness snuffed out along with it 

It would be centuries before Mark found it again.