Reluctantly, Jack turned off the water and stepped out onto the plush bathmat in front of the shower. He grabbed a towel, ready to wrap it around himself and quickly grab the promised clothes from the hallway. He froze as his eyes fell on the clothing sitting on the toilet seat. He looked from the toilet to the shower. There was a slim chance that Kieran hadn't seen him. Very slim.

His wet clothes were also missing from the bathtub. Maybe Kieran had just come in, dropped off the new clothes and grabbed the old ones without peeking? Jack snorted and rolled his eyes at his hopeful thoughts. Wishful thinking when he knew he'd do the exact same. At least Kieran hadn't tried to join him.

But who would want to join a scarred up freak? He'd managed to scare Kieran off before anything even happened. He didn't even get the chance to fuck up a date all on his own. Even if it was for the best, the thought hurt more than he was expecting.

He finished drying off and lifted up the black silk pajamas. The night just kept ticking off every piece of his perfect fairytale fantasy. He shook his head, reminding himself how most fairy tales had dark origins. And there was no way he'd come out of a morality tale alive.

A few minutes later, Jack left the bathroom and stood in the hall. The sounds of a washer chugging along came from behind a closed door. His stomach churned with anxiety over the thoughtfulness. Maybe his scars hadn't scared Kieran off. That, or Kieran hadn't peeked.

He shuffled into the living room, carrying his bag with him. This time around, he had time to take in the scenery of the hall. Paintings hung on the crème colored walls. Not just prints, but real paintings of European squares and countrysides in gilded frames. It was much too rich for the likes of him. He probably devalued everything just by breathing.

Jack stopped just short of the end of the couch and set his bag down. He looked up and caught Kieran's smile. "They uh… They're a little big," he said as tugged at the collar of the pajamas. The sleeves covered his hands, and he had the legs rolled up to his ankles. He wasn't even that short, but he felt like a kid. Or some waif waiting to be seduced by a lecherous rake.

"But it makes you look simply adorable." Kieran poured a glass of wine and set it on the glass coffee table. He motioned the empty cushion next to him. "Why don't you have a seat?"

Jack blushed and silently complied. Kieran wasn't acting any differently. More evidence that Kieran hadn't sneaked a peek or noticed Jack's scars. He stared at the glass of red wine that sat before him. "Um, thank you," he said quietly. "For letting me stay here and everything."

"Think nothing of it," Kieran replied. He edged closer to Jack and lightly traced a line down Jack's arm with his finger. "Though I do have one question."

Jack bit his lip and shifted uncomfortably. "Y-yeah?" He leaned minutely away from Kieran's touch. His bag was tucked up beside the couch. He should be able to get to it in time if Kieran was angling for sex in return for his kindness and wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

"How did you acquire the scars on your back?"

Jack stiffened and paled. That confirmed his fears. "T-that's… Where did you get this table?" Jack asked in a lame attempt to deter Kieran.

"You wouldn't believe me," Kieran said dismissively. "Now, how's about you tell me where you got those scars."

"It's not important," Jack insisted. What was worse? The fact that he could barely remember where they came from or that Kieran hadn't been scared off?

Kieran pinched the bridge of his nose. "I must argue that I find it rather important. They certainly weren't self-inflicted," he said with an edge of annoyance.

Anger boiled in Jack's chest, and he threw a glare at Kieran. "It's not…" he trailed off as he met Kieran's eyes. Why was he avoiding the question? It had been in the local paper. Almost everyone knew. People who remembered or recognized him felt sorry for him. Not angry. But he didn't want Kieran to feel sorry for him.

"Where, Jack?" Kieran asked, voice firm.

"Just outside Portswain," Jack replied.

"Oh, joy. I do so love this game," Kieran muttered.

Jack frowned. Kieran had games? Games were better than memories. "I like games."

Kieran smiled kindly at Jack. "I'm not certain I have anything that would interest you. How did you get those scars?"

"A knife." Something shifted in Kieran's eyes. Jack couldn't let it turn to pity. He wasn't weak. He'd gotten himself out. He was fine. "It's okay. It's not a big deal," he slurred.

"I believe we have conflicting views on that. Who used a knife on you?"

Jack shook his head and moved away from Kieran. He pressed himself against the end of the couch. If he didn't say it, he wouldn't have to face it. Wouldn't have to think about it. Why was he even thinking about it right now? He wasn't supposed to think about it. He wasn't supposed to let his thoughts linger on blood and who was responsible. Not when half the time, he held the knife in his own hand.

The world was too foggy, but there was an underlying comfort. He didn't need to worry, and at that moment, he didn't want to.

Kieran reached out to Jack, but ceased when Jack let out a soft whimper. "Then why?" he asked. "Why did they do this to you?"

"Punishment."

Kieran's jaw tightened, and he leaned away. "For?"

"Didn't do what I was told. Wasn't a good…" Jack slowly shook his head. "I'm not a pet," he insisted. Over everything else, he needed that out there.

"Shh, my sweet. You're safe," said Kieran, his voice soft and reassuring. He drummed his fingers on the back of the couch. "What were you told to do?"

"Hack into bank accounts and…" Jack frowned as his thoughts escaped him. What else did he do? There had to be something. There was a reason he kept his head low now. Anything to avoid being noticed again.

"There's something else you're not telling me," Kieran said.

Jack nodded. "I don't remember." Just on the edge of all the comfort and calm fluff was a worrying panic wanting to take hold. The same panic he felt when he couldn't recall his parents' names even though he'd been to their graves enough times. Why couldn't he remember? He gratefully relaxed under Kieran's voice and sank further into the fluff surrounding his thoughts.

"I see. And where is the person who did this to you?"

"Prison."

Kieran narrowed his eyes.

A sharp stab of anger ran through Jack. He didn't deserve what had happened to him. And if the asshole who hurt him ever found himself free, then he'd pay dearly for hurting such a bright flame. He wanted to agree with the foreign thoughts. To believe and trust that he'd be safe.

"My sweet siren," Kieran said as he brushed a stray hair from Jack's cheek. "I see you found the clothing I left in the hall for you."

"They're a little big," Jack slurred as the fog in his mind slowly lifted. He blinked a few times and looked around. "I'm sorry," he said when his gaze met Kieran's. "I musta zoned out."

"Not a problem," Kieran assured him as he stroked Jack's cheek. "Just admiring the view."

Jack was torn between leaning into the touch and avoiding it. He bit his lip and moved his head away from Kieran's hand. "So, uh, what time is it?" he asked.

"Just after ten. A few more hours to go."

"Oh. Uh…" There had to be something to help pass the time that wouldn't focus all the attention on himself. Maybe a game. "Have any board games?"

"I used to own Trivial Pursuit, but I lost that in a move. Anything else I have would be downstairs and rather fragile."

"Uh…" Jack glanced at the entertainment center that dominated the wall in front of the couch. "Any good movies?"

"That all depends on what genre you prefer."

"I'm pretty easy to please." Anything was better than nothing at the moment. He could shoot down anything overly romantic or soft core. No need to encourage the already comforting caresses he was receiving, but he didn't want to discourage them, either.

"In that case, I don't have any movies. I do, however, have all the streaming services," Kieran said and handed Jack the remote control. "Please don't ask for specifics. I only know that I pay for them."

Jack flipped through his options, glad for something to take his mind off Kieran's close presence. So far, there hadn't been much more than the soft, lingering touches to his arm and cheek, and he craved more. But innocent cuddling often led to expecting more. Expectations that he couldn't bring himself to fulfill.

He needed to find something that had no chance of having any sort of a romantic scene. Preferably something old that wouldn't have Kieran judging him and his bad taste in movies. He stumbled across a collection of mysteries and chose one at random, uncertain if he'd already seen it.

"I wouldn't have guessed you liked mysteries," Kieran said.

"My dad loved them," Jack replied as he dropped the remote beside him. He leaned back and frowned before glancing at Kieran. "Sorry. What was the question?"

Kieran's smile held a hint of sadness. "Never you mind," he said softly.

It was during a detective's exposition dump that Jack began to drift in and out of sleep. The vivid dreams that chose to plague him varied from mystery solving grannies to haunted dolls stalking Kieran's bathroom.

He turned to kick the doll, but found a pale man in its place. Slicked back dirty blond hair, beautiful blue eyes, and a wide and bloody grin. There was something not right about his teeth.

Jack startled awake with a sharp gasp. In front of him, the TV settled on the image of a man with a slit throat. He leaned back, letting out a surprised cry.

"Jack?"

Jack pulled his eyes away from the screen and looked to the small hallway, half expecting a doll to come strolling out with a knife. He breathed in shakily as Kieran rounded the corner.

"Are you alright?"

He nodded and looked away. "I'm fine. Just a dream," he said. He did his best not to cringe away as Kieran joined him on the couch.

"It's just after midnight. You could try your friend," Kieran offered.

"No, I… I'm fine. This is my normal," Jack said in quiet admission. He picked up his mostly forgotten wine glass and downed the contents. "It'll probably happen a couple more times."

"Is there anything that helps?" asked Kieran.

Jack sighed heavily and shook his head. "I usually just booze it up if I think it's gonna happen. I'm sorry. I can try to stay up until Sam's ready."

"I'd rather not have you deplete my wine rack, so might I offer a different distraction?"

"Sex doesn't help. I don't want sex," Jack said in a rush, his heart beating quickly.

Kieran laughed softly and took Jack's hand in his. "No, my sweet siren, something else," he said and began lightly caressing the back of Jack's hand and knuckles. "Just focus on this and know that you are not alone. No one will harm you for as long as I'm near."

Jack swallowed and breathed shallowly as his eyes traced up Kieran's arm. He wanted to believe Kieran. To trust him. To take comfort in his gentle touch. He gripped the hand holding his own and tucked his feet under him before leaning against Kieran.

He slowly relaxed as the light caresses continued along his hand and arm, thankful that Kieran never pulled the sleeve back. He wasn't ready to show the physical proof of just how broken and messed up he was.