As I expected, the album was right where I left it in the studio. I grabbed it off the shelf and looked down at the cover. A twinge of fear still ran through me as I thought about giving it to Jack, but I tried my best to suppress it. This was his family. He had the right to see them. I'd deal with the consequences later.

I hugged it to my chest and hurried back downstairs. Jack was still waiting at the table. He perked up a bit as he saw me coming back. His eyes were glued to the book in my hands.

"This is it?" He asked.

I nodded and handed it to him. He took it from me carefully.

He didn't open it right away. Instead, he stared down at the cover for a long time. He brushed his fingers across the gilded letters. A small smile was on his lips.

"Where did you say you found this again?"

"Somewhere in the attic, but I couldn't say where exactly," I admitted.

He chuckled softly. "So that's where he hid it. I must have asked Thomas where this album was at least a dozen times when I was younger. He always said that he wasn't sure. That it probably got lost somewhere, but... I always had a suspicion that he'd hidden it somewhere."

"He was probably worried about you too."

"Someone always seems to be," he sighed. "But like I said, I'm a big boy now. I can handle looking at some old pictures."

I hoped he was right about that. I guess he could see the doubt on my face. He smiled and pulled my chair right next to his. He patted the seat gently.

"If you're really that worried, then come look at them with me. You can be my emotional support."

"Like a dog?" I teased.

He laughed at this. "I was thinking more like a girlfriend, but if you want to be my little pet, I certainly wouldn't mind."

I tugged his hair playfully as I sat down. He smiled and stared down at the cover another second before finally opening the book.

I already knew what was waiting for him on the first page, but it still made my heart thump as I saw it. A family picture. A happy memory with his family. One he might even remember.

Apparently, he did. His face softened as he looked at it. He sighed gently.

"God. I'd nearly forgotten what they looked like," he murmured.

Amazing how a single sentence could shatter my heart into a million pieces. My body moved without thinking. I threw my arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. He started laughing as I did.

"Darling, I'm fine," he reassured me. "It's just nostalgia. That's all. You don't need to worry about every little sigh or comment I make. I promise."

I pulled away sheepishly. "Sorry. Instincts."

He leaned over and kissed my cheek. "And I'm glad your first instinct is to comfort me, really I am, but I'll be fine.

By the way, how did you know this was my family?" He asked, looking back at the picture. "I mean, I suppose you recognized me, but what about them?"

I was a little surprised that he asked that. "You can't tell?"

"Tell what?"

"You're the spitting image of your father," I said, pointing to the picture. "Honestly, if I saw pictures of you guys side by side, I'd probably assume you were brothers."

He smiled a bit. "Do I really look that much like my father?"

"Well... Yeah. You can't see it?"

He shrugged. "I guess I never really thought about it before. Like I said, it's been a while since I've seen their faces. I honestly can't even remember when this picture was taken."

"1999 if I remember right. I think it was in May."

He started a bit as I said this. His face filled with confusion. I couldn't help but laugh at it.

"Dont worry, I'm not psychic. Your mom wrote captions on the backs of the pictures," I explained. "They all have dates on them."

"Really?"

He carefully wiggled the picture loose from its holders and flipped it over. He smiled gently.

"Huh. I'd nearly forgotten my Father's name was 'Bernard.' Let's see. My mother's was... Umm..."

"Margaret, but she went by Maggie."

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Are you sure you're not psychic? The dates I could understand, but how in the world did you learn that from the pictures?"

"I didn't," I admitted. "The handyman from town knew your folks apparently. He mentioned a little bit about them. Said they went by 'Barney and Mags'."

"God, now I remember that," he laughed. "My mother hated being called Margaret. I think I heard my father call her that once. The look on her face was so terrifying that Baldy and I hid in our rooms for the rest of the day. I don't know what she did to my father after that, but let me tell you this much, he never made that mistake again."

I smiled, but I couldn't help but be a little confused too. He seemed to notice. He reached out and stroked my cheek gently.

"Everything okay, Darling?"

"Yeah, I was just wondering something. That's all. It's not important," I said, waving it off.

He frowned a bit. "If you want to know, then it's important enough for me. Please stop being so cautious around me. I keep telling you, I'm fine. If you want to know something, then just ask me. I'll answer it if I can."

"Trust me, if not worrying about you was that easy, then I would have stopped a long time ago."

"Anna."

"Fine," I sighed. "I was just wondering who 'Baldy' was. You weren't talking about Thomas, right?"

He laughed at this. "No. I wasn't. Honestly, my memories of Thomas from around that time are a little vague. I guess he wasn't really too involved with my life back then. No more than any of the other servants, at least.

Anyway, to answer your question, 'Baldy' was my brother."

"Really?" I asked. "Huh. One of your mom's pictures called him 'Archie.' Was I looking at a different kid?"

"No, no. That was him still. His full name was 'Archibald'." He laughed as I cringed involuntarily. "I know. I'll tell you this much, it certainly made me appreciate the name 'Jupiter' a little bit more."

"I'll bet."

He smiled. "My parents called him 'Archie,' but I always called him 'Baldy.' He hated it. But, you know, I was young then. Just another boy teasing his little brother.

Did you ever have any-"

He stopped suddenly. His eyes went wide for a second. He immediately pressed his lips together and looked down at the album again. However, it seemed like he was doing it more to have a place to look rather than to actually look at something.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Fine," he said quickly. "I was going to say something, but I realized it's probably better if I don't."

"What is it? You can tell me. Is something wrong?"

I was getting a little nervous. I wasn't sure what kind of emotions all these memories would stir up in him. Why wasn't he telling me? Was he worried I'd overreact and try to take the album?

Apparently not. He glanced up at me and gave me a sad smile. He sighed and reached out to grab my hand. He gave it a small, reassuring squeeze.

"It's not about me, if that's what you're afraid of," he mumbled. "I... had a question about your family, but I remembered that that's an off-limits subject, so I decided not to ask. That's all."

Although it did relieve me to hear that, it made me feel a little guilty too. Yes, my family was a subject I really wanted to avoid if possible, but was it really fair of me to do that considering how open he was being about his?

Besides, I'd already told some of the most traumatic parts to Victor. Would it really hurt to tell some of the minor annoyances to Jack?

"You... can ask a little. If you want," I grumbled.

"No, no. Really, it's fine," he insisted. "Just knowing that much has put you in a bad mood and-"

"The first thing to know is that talking about them will always put me in a bad mood. Just thinking about them is enough to put me in a bad mood," I explained. "That being said,
I don't want you walking on eggshells around me because of it.

My family is never going to be something I want to talk about, but that doesn't mean I necessarily want to keep it from you either. It's like you said before, I want to know if you want to know something. I'm not sure how much I'll actually be able to stomach answering, but... I'll answer what I can."

He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "You really don't have to do that. I can already see how much this is upsetting you. If it's really that traumatic for you to talk about, then-

"You're trying to talk to me about being traumatized?" I couldn't help smiling at the thought.

He snickered a bit himself. "Alright. Fair enough. I suppose out of the two of us, I might be a little worse off, but still... are you really sure you want to talk about it?"

"No, but we'll burn that bridge when we get there. For now, ask away."

He smiled softly and nodded. "I... was just going to ask if you had any siblings."

"Two older brothers."

"Based on the relationship you seem to have with your family, I'm guessing you're not close."

"You'd be guessing right." I remembered the picture of his family. "You and your brother looked pretty close though."

He sighed a bit and looked down at the photo again. "Yeah. We were.

Even before the accident, we were pretty isolated out here. We were really all we had in terms of playmates. Not that I minded much at the time. I had Baldy, and that was good enough for me."

"Did he have any nickname for you?" I asked.

He chuckled a bit, but his smile was sad. "Juju. 'Jupiter' was too hard for him to say as a child and he never really took to 'Jack.'

God, he used to call me that so often I wanted to strangle him at times... You never realize that you could miss something like that until it's gone..."

He was silent for a long time after that. Suddenly he reached up and pressed his hand to his eye. He cleared his throat and tried to turn away from me, but it was easy to tell what was going on.

I reached up and grabbed his hand. I pulled it away from his face gently. Sure enough, his cheeks were already wet with tears.

"Jack..."

"Sorry. I'm fine really." He tried to laugh, but it just ended up sounding choked.

"Jack, stop," I murmured, stroking his hand. "It's okay to not be okay. Especially about something like this."

He smiled and shook his head. He used his free hand to wipe his cheeks.

"All that junk I boasted about being able to handle looking at some pictures, and here I am crying like a baby."

"Good. That's normal," I explained. "Jack, I never expected you to be some emotionless robot looking at these pictures. They're your family. People you loved. People you cared about. Of course, you're going miss them.

I was never worried about you crying or missing them. I was worried that you wouldn't be able to handle remembering them."

"This is 'handling it' to you?" He half-teased.

"Yes," I said firmly. "This is grief. Grief is natural. This is what you're supposed to do when something painful happens. This is handling it.

You're not running away. You're not hiding from it. You're not trying to pretend like it never happened. Grief isn't pretty, but it's normal. And... I'm actually very happy you're crying right now."

He gave me a confused look. "You are?"

I nodded. "I am. Because now I know that you were right. You can handle this. And I'm really happy I know that now."

The sound he made was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He pressed my hand to his cheek. I didn't even care that it was wet anymore. He smiled at me softly.

"My mother would have loved you," he almost whispered. "She always loved gentle people."

I smiled and patted his arm. "Well, my dad would hate you. Never could stand you 'soft' types."

He seemed a little shocked. "R-really?"

I giggled and leaned in to kiss him. "Yes, but luckily, I hate my dad. So, you know, everything balances."

He snickered a bit and kissed my palm. "Again, you and your jokes."

"Payback for that stupid one you made earlier," I reminded him, shoving his head gently. "Now, enough about my traumatic childhood. Lets get back to yours."

He smiled and nodded. We went back to looking at the album together. I realized for the first time that I never really saw more than a couple pages of it. As, he flipped through I saw dozens of pictures I'd never seen before. I guess I'd been too busy lately to look at it myself.

He suddenly moved the album close to his face and squinted at it. "Anna, am I crazy? Or is that Thomas?"

"You're definitely crazy, but let me see about the Thomas thing," I teased.

He rolled his eyes as he handed me the album. I glanced at the picture he was looking at. Sure enough, there was Thomas.

He was definitely younger then, but there was no denying that it was him. He was in the living room, grouped together with a few other people I didn't know. Other servants probably. They all smiled for the camera dutifully.

I'm guessing Jack's mom must have asked them to pose for it. I couldn't help but wonder if moments like that were a welcome break for them or more of an inconvenient distraction. Although, judging by the way their eyes smiled too, I'm guessing it was likely the former.

"Yeah, that's Thomas alright," I confirmed, handing it back to him. "He used to have so much hair."

"Oh, I'm sure I had a good deal to do with him losing it," he chuckled. "What didn't fall out from stress he probably tore out himself."

"Oh no! I don't want to go bald. Especially before I'm thirty."

He nudged me playfully. "What makes you think you'll lose it all that fast?"

"I've met your personalities."

He tried to suppress another laugh while he turned the page. As he did, a piece of paper suddenly floated out and landed on the floor. I think we were both a little surprised to see it.

"What's that?" I asked, leaning over the arm of the chair to try to get a better look at it.

"Not sure."

He reached down and picked it up. Whatever it was, it was folded over. He looked confused as he glanced at the front of it. He opened it up and scanned it quickly. After a second, his eyes went wide.

"What is it?" I asked, leaning over.

"Oh, umm, not sure. I'm still reading it," he said quickly.

He smiled like everything was fine, but I couldn't help but get the feeling that he was hiding something from me. Especially since he seemed so secretive about whatever was on that paper. I already couldn't see it well from my angle, but he tilted it slightly as if to block it from my view. I frowned a bit.

"Darling, I'm afraid I'm a little dehydrated from all that crying a second ago. Can you please get me a bottle of water from the kitchen?" He asked, putting his hand over mine.

I think he was hoping to distract me, but I still noticed as he quietly shoved the paper into his pocket. Yes, he was definitely hiding something.

"I'll get you some water, but don't think that means you're getting out of telling me what's on that paper," I warned him.

"Thanks."

He smiled innocently as if he'd completely ignored the second half of what I'd said. I sighed and rolled my eyes before getting up and heading towards the kitchen.

I didn't get it. What was he hiding? That wasn't like Jack at all. I could see Victor doing something like that. Even Arthur if he was nervous enough about whatever it was. But Jack? He never hid things from me. How bad was it if even Jack felt like he needed to hide it from me?

I tried to be quick about grabbing the water. I knew how this game worked. The longer I took, the longer he'd have to think of another excuse not to tell me.

Sure enough, I saw him looking at the paper again as I came out. He tried to shove it back into his pocket as soon as he saw me. I pouted a bit as I set his water on the table.

"Alright, come on. What is it?" I asked again. "You're acting really weird about whatever's on that paper."

"It's nothing, Darling," he insisted. "Just a letter that got tucked away in there. That's all."

"That's it? Just some unimportant letter?" I asked, unconvinced. He nodded, smiling. "Oh, good. Then I suppose it doesn't matter one way or another if you let me see it."

I saw a flash of panic in his eyes, but he quickly laughed to try to cover it. "Of course not, but why bother? Like I said, there's nothing of interest in it really."

"Jack..."

Lying was obviously not his forte. I think he knew that just as well as I did. Which is probably why he decided to take more of an offensive approach.

He stood up suddenly and kissed me. A cheap trick, but damn it if it wasn't effective. Like always, my body immediately surrendered to his touch. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer. The other tangled in my hair.

My mind was turning hazy. I could already feel myself forgetting about the letter. I'm pretty sure that was his plan, but I tried my best to fight against it.

He pulled back after a minute, smiling at me playfully. It was obvious that he could see his plan was working. I pouted a bit and hit his chest weakly.

"Jack, stop," I almost begged. "You're playing dirty."

He chuckled softly and leaned in to kiss my neck. "Oh, I can play a lot dirtier than that."

His hand started to move up my skirt. I shivered a bit as his fingers pressed against the front of my panties. I squirmed in his arms, trying to break free.

"Jack, no."

"Please? Just a little bit." His voice was low and husky. "It feels like forever since I've touched you."

This might have started as a way for him to distract me, but there was no faking the lust that was in his voice right now. He was serious, and that was dangerous today.

"The cleaners are here," I reminded him.

He frowned a bit, but he moved his hand out from under my skirt. However, that didn't mean I was in the clear yet. His arm was still wrapped around me tightly, holding me in place.

"Are they cleaning the bedroom today?" He asked.

"Umm, no," I answered honestly, "but-"

"Perfect. Then you'll just have to keep your voice down," he teased.

He grabbed my hand and started tugging me out of the dining room. I could feel my heart racing as he led me upstairs.

I tried to avoid sex as much as possible when the cleaners were here. Jack and Victor were usually pretty agreeable when it came to that issue, but it looked like Jack wasn't as willing to wait today. His pace seemed to quicken as we got closer to the bedroom.

Sure enough, as soon as the door closed behind us he pushed me against it and crushed his lips to mine. His hands immediately reached under my skirt and tugged down my panties. I guess he wasn't wasting any time today.

"Jack, please," I tried begging again. "Not now. Just wait until tonight when they leave. Then-"

I gasped as his fingers suddenly rubbed against my aching clit. He smiled and leaned in close, pressing my back further against the door.

"Hmm. Are you sure about that? It doesn't sound like you want me to wait," he teased. "It sounds like you want me to carry you to the bed and make up for lost time."

"I-I don't," I insisted.

My body was a lot more honest than I was. I moaned softly as his fingers pressed against my entrance. He smiled at the sound. His eyes stared down at me hungrily.

"Then, if I shouldn't take you to the bed, where should I take you?" He murmured.

I pressed my lips together, desperate to keep in the whimpers the spilled from them as his fingers slowly thrust in and out of me.

"Well, if you don't have any suggestions, then I have a couple of fun ideas," he said playfully. "Since we're reliving the past today, how about I draw us a nice, hot bath and we spend the afternoon making it extra steamy?"

"But lunch will-"

"Still be waiting on the table when we're finished," he insisted.

"But Jack-"

"Please," his voice was almost a whisper. His eyes were intense as he looked at me. "As many times as I've had you, I just can't seem to forget that first time we spent together in the bath.

One of the best moments of my life, and yet, I can't ever look back on that day without feeling like we left something unfinished. I want to finish it now."

I understood exactly what he meant. All the times we'd had sex by now, all the thing we'd done and the places we'd done them, and I still could help but remember that first time we really touched each other in the bath.

The way he held me, the way he teased me, the way my body ached for more. We weren't exactly at the "more" part of our relationship at that point in time. But we certainly were now. And I kind of wanted to finish what we'd started too.

I sighed and surrendered myself to the idea completely. "Fine, fine. You win. I'll get the bath ready."

He smiled and shook his head. "No, I'll get the bath ready. The only thing I want you to prepare is yourself."

I rolled my eyes. "Jack I'm more than capable of-"

"Come on, just let me spoil you a bit. Let me, take care of you for once." His eyes flashed mischievously. "Or are you still trying to be my caretaker right now, Ms. Walton?"

"Ugh, just go," I muttered, shoving him gently. "Before I change my mind."

Apparently, that was the worst thing I could have said, because he sure as hell wasn't about to let that happen.

He pushed me against the door and kissed me deeply. Again, my head filled with a fog as I felt the warmth of his body pressing against mine. I shivered involuntarily as I heard the familiar sound of his zipper.

A series of soft thuds followed as his clothes landed one by one on the floor. I could feel the heat building between my legs as his hard member pressed against me. That heat only grew as his hands slowly lifted my skirt.

Then, all at once, he pulled away. I stared at him, stunned.

"Just a little incentive so you don't change your mind," he teased, winking at me.

I watched, dumbstruck, as he walked away and disappeared into the bathroom. My legs turned to jelly the moment he did. I collapsed onto the ground, my body begging for a release from the pent-up lust he'd created inside of me.

Cleaners, no cleaners, I didn't care about any of that anymore. I wanted him, and I wanted him now. I quickly pulled my dress over my head and removed my bra, throwing them into the pile with his clothes.

As I did, I noticed something sticking out of his pocket. I leaned in closer to get a better look at it. It looked like a piece of paper or something.

I gasped as I realized what it was. The letter. I'd completely forgotten about it. That sneaky bastard. Luckily, in all the excitement, it looks like he'd forgotten about it too.

I pulled it out and looked at the front of it. There was only one word written there. Jack.

Unimportant letter my ass. It was to him for Christ's sake!

The question was, who had written it to him? It didn't look like Thomas's handwriting, and the paper was too new for it to be an old letter.

I flipped it over, looking for a signature. Only to have my jaw drop open a second later. Of all the people in the world I could have guessed, this was the last person I ever expected to write Jack a letter.

A familiar name stared up at me from the page. Arthur.