Getting himself together, Jack moved to the sink and changed the bandage on his hand to a fresh one. Rubbing his thumb over the fresh bandage, he sighed softly. It was strange to think about how normal things used to be and now... everything was complicated. Pushing his red hood off his head, he retrieved his little music box and checked on the place. After making sure that everything was in its place, he took a pastry and hopped up on the counter to sit. While nibbling on it, he bowed his head and tried not to let himself sink too far into the gossip. Although, Charlotte's words swirled within his mind. He didn't know whether to be happy or insulted that she wanted to marry him despite the town thinking him to be undesirable. She made him feel like a clear 'second choice' out of the men in this town. Which hurt, but he found it a little amusing that it still put him close to Mark. Tilting his head back, he tried to imagine a 'normal' life with her... but he couldn't. He could only see them lost in their separate work and desires. When his eyes drifted to the other counter, his breath hitched at the memory of Mark cornering him there. His wolfish smile and light teasing bringing a blushing smile to Jack's face.

He wanted to be the one that someone fought for, not the one they settled for. Letting the smile fade from his face as he thought of Mark's betrayal, he banged his head back against the wall with defeat. This town and the people were draining him. A knock came at the kitchen door, causing Jack to jerk upright. He hoped it wasn't Geralf. He wasn't in the mood for him. Outside the door, his dad's familiar voice stated aloud. "Jack? I know you're in there. Can I come in?" Sliding off the counter, Jack opened the door and suspiciously asked him. "How did you know I was here? Are you stalking me now?" His dad chuckled, closing the door as he replied. "No. You always come here when you're not at home." Jack rolled his eyes, mumbling out as he tried to organize things to look busy. "Great... I'm predictable." His dad moved to lean on a counter, telling him softly as he looked around. "You're not predictable. You're comfortable." Stopping to face his dad at a distance, he asked him timidly. "Why are you here?" His dad lowered his eyes to the floor, telling him a bit reluctantly. "I just finished a conversation with Charlotte's dad." Jack tensed, turning away as he said grimly. "Dad... Please."

His dad's voice was calm and hopeful, when he told him. "Jack, hear me out. Charlotte is a nice girl, and her family is wealthy. She can take care of you." Jack turned, leaning his hips back on the counter as he shrugged out in a hurt voice. "I don't want to be taken care of. I don't want her money." His dad shrugged, telling him reluctantly. "We don't have a lot of options. Everything costs money. She's willing to overlook the rumors and give you something normal." Jack shook his head, retorting flatly. "I don't want normal... I don't... I don't love her." His dad sighed, moving closer as he replied gently. "You've never tried. Son... I... I know you're a little different." Jack tensed, nervously eyeing his dad out of the corner of his eyes. Did his dad know? His dad put a hand on his shoulder, telling him lovingly. "She's a little different too. I think the both of you will hit it off if you just try." Jack's heart sank to the pit of his stomach. His dad didn't know and that hurt worse. He wanted to tell him, but the fear of being called a 'devil's whore' by his own father kept the words from surfacing. He couldn't even look his father in the eyes out of shame.

His dad ruffled his hair, pleading with him nicely. "I've already agreed to the match. Just... try and get to know her?" Tears welled up in Jack's eyes, but he turned away from his dad to hide them as he uttered out. "Ya... I'll... I'll try." His dad patted his back, giving Jack the nudge that his silent tears needed to fall down his cheeks. As his dad reached the door, he added over his shoulder sweetly. "Your mom is going to help me talk to them tonight. You'll have the house to yourself to... think things over." Jack didn't answer. He could only stand in silence. When he heard the door shut, Jack slowly sank to his knees before the counter. Pressing his forehead to the counter door, he let himself cry. Why did he feel like he was being sold? He couldn't believe that he didn't say anything. He was so afraid to utter a single word that would hurt him. This town felt like a cage with a door that was slowly closing to lock him in... and yet no matter how fast he ran, he just couldn't get out. Sitting down on the floor, he hugged the red cloak around himself and tried to calm down. Crying wasn't going to fix this. Sniffling, he told himself that he'd cry a little longer and that would be it. After that, he'd piece himself together and make a decision.

After a few minutes, he wiped his cheeks and grabbed the counter to pull himself up. Leaning on the counter, he took a few deep breaths and tried to shake off the flood of emotions that wanted him to wallow in sorrow longer. Inching to the sink, he used the bucket of water to splash his face to wash the salty tears away. Finally straightening up, he dried his face with his cloak and said aloud to himself. "You have to choose... What are you willing to do?" Glancing down at his bandaged hand, he exhaled heavily. His emotions were so muted from his crying that his mind easily drifted to Mark. Composing himself, he cleared his throat and collected a few pastries into his basket before heading back with the stuff his mom wanted from the market. Pulling his hood back up, he wondered through the crowd of people, ignoring how they whispered and pointed at him. When he reached the porch of his house, he turned and watched those nearby quickly look away. Slipping into his house, he called out to his mom, but got no answer. Instead, he heard Mark answer from upstairs in a cool tone. "She left shortly after your dad gave her some... interesting news."

Feeling fragile, Jack quickly crossed the room into the kitchen to unload his basket, telling him in a shaky voice. "Please. Just don't... I... I don't want to talk about it." Mark slid down the ladder, asking him casually. "Why not? Your family seems happy." Jack slammed a bundle of carrots down, snapping over his shoulder. "Well, I'm NOT my family!" Mark stopped short and Jack flinched at how his own words came out. He was wrung tighter than he thought. Picking up the basket more carefully, he handed it off to Mark as he tried to slip around him, mumbling out in a broken voice. "Here. I need to lay down. I'm tired." Mark grabbed his wrist to stop him, easing closer to him as he whispered in a deep voice. "Hey. Talk to me. What's going on?" Jack's deep breath shuddered as he tried to keep himself from crying. Shaking his head, he strained out without looking at him. "I can't... I'm just tired... Let go." Mark's hand released his wrist, but his hand moved to touch his hip to keep him from rushing off. Jack put a hand on Mark's wrist, pushing it off his waist, but found his own hands lingering on him. Setting the basket down on the floor, Mark asked him in such a heartfelt voice that it made Jack want to cry again. "Jack? Talk to me. Please?"

Sniffling, Jack backed away from Mark to put his back to his parents' bedroom door. He needed some distance to get his emotions together. Bowing his head, he reluctantly told Mark. "They want me to marry Charlotte." Mark nodded; his voice soft when he whispered out so gently. "Ok." Jack's eyes darted up to lock with his, choking out. "Ok? There is nothing 'Ok' about it! They are practically selling me off like a damn dog! They didn't even ask me! I don't even get a say! They treat me like... He said I was..." The words choked Jack until he couldn't say any more. Sniffling, he reached up to pull his hood down over his face to hide his tears. Sliding down the door to the floor, the words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them. "I feel so ashamed... This is all your fault..." Mark kneeled before him, his voice calm when he asked lightly. "My fault...?" Jack flinched, pulling his knees up to hide behind them as he sniffled out weakly. "I'm sorry... I didn't..." Mark's hand eased under the hood to push it off Jack's head. Jack avoided his eyes but stilled when Mark's warm hand touched his wet cheek. Brushing a tear away, Mark whispered to him. "Jack, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You're not alone..."

When Jack didn't lean into his hand or look at him, Mark lowered his hand and said rather coolly. "I think I should go... Thank you, Jack." Mark slowly got up and Jack's body took on a life of its own. Sitting up, his hand snatched Mark's wrist in a death grip. His fingers pressing into the soft warm flesh of his wrist as his desperation to keep him close overwhelmed him. He hated feeling like he needed him... but Mark listened to him in a way that no one else had ever tried. He needed that now. He didn't want to feel like he was the only one that felt like this. Mark eased back down to his knees, his hand taking Jack's to loosen his grip. When he did, Mark lifted Jack's bandaged hand and asked him a little worried. "What happened?" Jack could only shrug, but his throat was too tight to answer him properly. Exhaling slowly and deeply, Mark released his hand and started to tell him nicely. "Jack, if someone hurt you-" Jack shifted, timidly pressing himself against Mark's broad chest. Mark adjusted to sit down, wrapping his arms around Jack. Huddling against him, Jack tried to settle down in his arms. The house was a little cold, but Mark felt so warm. His dry flannel shirt still smelled of moonshine, but beneath that was just the smell of him.

Mark rubbed his back, stating in a low loving voice. "I think I kept you up too late last night. Come with me." Getting to his feet, Mark helped Jack up and coaxed him up the ladder. At the top, Jack sniffled and used a washcloth to dry his face. Moving up behind him, Mark's hands touched his shoulders and coaxed him into turning around to face him, before he began unlacing his cloak. Brushing it off his shoulders, Mark's hands moved down along his arms to his wrists. Goosebumps sprang up on his arms, prompting Jack to bite his lip as he shivered a little from the contact. Taking his hands off him, Mark stepped back and cleared his throat before telling him nervously. "Try get some more rest." Mark rubbed his lower lip, turning away a bit reluctantly. Jack only glanced at the bed, before asking him wispily. "What are you going to do? If my parents come back..." Mark flashed him a warm smile, replying calmly. "I know. I know. I've got good ears." Sitting down, Jack unlaced his boots and crawled onto the bed. The bed was very welcoming in his state. He closed his eyes, starting to drift off when he felt a blanket drape over him. After the blanket was put in place, Jack felt Mark's hand run down his side before hearing his footsteps move away.

Jack eventually awoke to the smell of food cooking and slowly sat up. Were his parents back? Easing up from the bed, he peeked under it and then headed down the ladder. All the curtains were drawn to keep people from looking in and the fireplace was crackling softly with fresh wood. The fireplace had even been cleaned off ashes. Something he had always been told to do but rarely did unless it had to be done. In the kitchen, Mark stood before the stove stirring a large pot of stew. Hugging himself, Jack asked him curiously. "Are those the ingredients that I just bought?" Without looking at him, Mark answered casually. "Some of them." Tensing up for a fight, Mark interjected quickly to stop him. "I'm following your mother's orders so that you don't get in trouble because of me." Jack blinked, asking perplexed. "What?" Mark held up a note for him to see, then cursed as he shoved a little book down on the counter. Shaking his head, he grumbled out. "However, you still might get in trouble, because I don't know what this is and your mom's cookbook is such a pain to read." Taking the note, Jack smirked to himself. He knew what it was.

Moving up beside him, Jack closed the cookbook to save it from Mark's abuse as he told him. "You won't find this in there. Because this is my recipe. Not hers." Retrieving a smaller book from the shelf, he flipped it open to find the berry bread recipe. While Mark said a little surprised. "You have your own recipes?" Blushing, Jack moved to retrieve the ingredients as he mumbled out a bit grimly. "A few. Part of a long line of things I thought I'd be able to finish." Without glancing at the book, Jack started to prep it by memory. Mark picked up the book, flipping through the pages of his handwriting. Upon closing it, Mark asked him in a serene tone. "These are good ideas. Why didn't you finish it?" Jack swallowed, slowing in his work to reply sadly. "Because... I've been losing my passion for baking. I can recall all the recipes she and I made... but I just can't think of any more. And without it... I have nothing. Becoming a Hunter is all I started to think about after a while... and now... even that is ruined for me." Jack hissed as his hurt hand protested against him mixing the dough. Grabbing the handle, he tried to power through it, until Mark stopped him and asked hopefully. "Let me do that." Jack shook his head, telling him firmly. "I can do it."

Taking his hand, Mark pulled his hand away from the handle to reveal the blood that was leaking through the bandage. Pulling his hand close, Mark peeled the bandage off, telling him so beautifully. "I didn't say you couldn't. I just wanted to help." Jack's hand shook as he saw the blood leaking from broken skin. Looking it over, Mark gave him a soft glare, before telling him seriously. "This needs stitches, Jack." Jack winced, trying to pull his hand back as he told him a bit spooked. "No. It's fine. You don't have to..." Mark tightened his grip on his wrist and pulled him over to his mother's chair, where a little basket of sewing and knitting stuff was. Tugging against him, Jack whined out. "Mark... No. Don't!" Taking a seat before the fireplace, Mark eased a needle into the fire and growled out to him. "Sit. You want it to get infected?" Anxiously sitting down, Jack told him shakily. "I've been keeping it clean... Mark, please. I have a fear of-" Jack stopped talking as Mark adjusted to hide Jack's hand from view. Staring at Mark's back, Jack uneasily strained out. "Mark...?" Mark shushed him, then coolly informed him. "I've done this before. Just stay still."

Jack locked his jaw as he felt Mark hold his curling fingers out of the way. Putting his head against the back of Mark's shoulder, Jack tensed and whined as he felt the needle touch his skin. Jack's heels dug against the floor, and he leaned into Mark more without meaning too. The sharp tingles of pain across his palm were putting him on edge. Mark glanced back at him, then asked with a warm smile. "Wanna tell me how you got this?" Jack swallowed hard, keeping his jaw locked as he muttered out in distress. "Throwing dagger. I... sliced myself." Mark soon finished, wrapping a fresh bandage around it. As the bandage moved over his hand, Jack's body slowly began to relax. Only to have his heart skip a beat, when Mark kissed his bandaged palm before letting him go. Patting Jack's thigh, Mark got up, stating aloud without a care in the world. "There. I'll get you something to put some snow in, so that you can ice your hand." Flexing his fingers a bit, Jack got to his feet trying to hide his blush. This was a side of Mark that he'd never seen. He liked it. To Be Continued...