A/N: Everyone focuses on Jack and Miss Acacia's romance but . . . is everyone forgetting that she did send Joe birthday cards and letters? There's a reason for that so I'm going to do my best to tell that side of the story, Joe's side. RnR please.

It had all been so much better before he came around! At least it had felt as such . . . Joe, short for Joseph Douglas, had everything he should want. He was from a well-to-do family going to a good school, he was taller than everyone else and bigger than everyone else and he had a girlfriend!

And not just any little bird, no, his Miss Acacia was not only beautiful but her voice made him melt! On the inside anyway, Joe knew better than to show anything on the outside.

He was often surprised by Miss Acacia's affections, not that he thought he didn't deserve them, just that they caught him off-guard most of the time.

Joe had started bullying her like any of the other children; he desired control of his surroundings so naturally he wanted control over the school children and courtyard; pushing and scaring his way into the comfortable position of top-dog. Miss Acacia, however, was different, she didn't listen to his snide remarks and smiled every time he dumped her books onto the ground or took those glasses she frequently wore.

He remembered it well, the day he couldn't find it in him to try and bully her anymore, he took her glasses and held them up high and she punched him right in the gut. It hadn't hurt, Joe had taken worse hits from grown adults so a little girl half his size was nowhere near harming him, but it had dislodged something inside Joe, something he couldn't explain and then her thorns had bristled from nothing and he was smitten.

"I don't want them anyway, so you can keep them!"

And with that she had turned on her heels and stomped up to the schoolhouse, leaving Joe stunned and unable to comprehend why he wasn't laughing at her retreating back or why he was clutching the decidedly bent and abused pair of specs to his chest. He fled from the yard that day and went about trying to understand what had happened.

" . . . the witch cast a spell on me." He concluded and pushed it from his thoughts.

Joe had half-a-mind to throw the glasses in a storm drain but chose to pocket them instead without really understanding why.

Joe soon found it difficult to push his dominance on Miss Acacia, every time he opened his mouth to make a remark or pick up a rock for throwing, he'd falter and his mind would go blank.

One day in particular stood out as the day Joe finally broke, he was having a bad week; the black eye he'd been sporting made others cringe and gave him a bad mood all around so he was ready to pick on anyone small and stupid enough to get in his way and of course it had to be her.

Joe shoved Miss Acacia forward so she fell on her hands and knees, dropping her books and causing everyone to stop and watch.

Joe heaved every breath and readied himself for what he was about to say, his mouth opened and he was just gathering the syllables together when the girl started to do something that shocked him so badly that he almost fell backward.

Miss Acacia began to cry.

And not just sniffles or whimpers, those were something Joe was used to eliciting from others, no this was full-blown sobbing. Miss Acacia hugged herself, her thorns coiled around her arms and neck and she sobbed like her heart was broken. And before Joe could make up his mind as to what to do, she turned her teary eyes at him with so much anger and hurt there, and she just looked at him while her scraped knees pressed into the cobblestone.

The bell sounded and everyone else ran to the building but Joe and Miss Acacia. They just stared at each other in a battle of wills with Acacia sobbing her anger and Joe staring slack-jawed and unable to comprehend any of this. It went on for a minute or two then she finally spoke,

"Why?" She asked so quietly that Joe felt himself lean forward to hear better.

"Why . . . ?" He repeated dumbly.

She nodded, "Answer me."

Joe blinked then straightened himself up, glaring down at her as he remember that he was the one in a foul mood and he was the one that needed to feel better, not her.

"You're small and weak and-"

"I'm not asking why you pushed me, that much was obvious." Acacia slowly gathered her books and wiped at her eyes.

"Then what are you asking?" Joe snarled and crossed his arms, "Stupid, little-"

"Why did he hit you this time?" She bowled right over him but was able to keep her voice low so no one else would hear.

Joe's mouth opened to ask 'who?' but then he realized. Miss Acacia knew.

They sat on a fence toward the outskirts of town, Miss Acacia and Joe, together. Sitting on a fence. He glanced slowly at her and all the times he'd wanted to push her down or say something nasty seemed so pointless.

"You didn't answer my question." Acacia pointed out, running her fingers over the spine of one of her books.

Joe looked at her then closed his eyes, she'd chased him all the way out here and he had no idea why she'd followed him in the first place,

"You already know." Joe murmured, tilting his head back, "I don't think I need to go into any more detail than that."

" . . . is that why you're such a bully?" Acacia's voice was so soft and kind . . .

Joe bit his lip a little then composed his face, "I'm not a bully."

"Bullies push others around and hurt people to feel better about themselves. You're a bully."

"He's a bully. Not me. I just want control, stability. I want to be in charge." Joe opened his eyes and looked up at the Scottish sun, bright but so cold.

" . . . Joe."

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he flinched away from it without knowing why then amended that Acacia's hands were cold and she'd startled him and nothing more.

"What?" He asked shortly, not really liking the idea of someone being able to make him nervous.

"Is that why you don't like being touched? Because he hits you?" She scooted closer and Joe immediately got off the fence, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Of course you aren't, I'd snap your arm like a twig if you tried!" Joe took several steps back then stopped and swallowed, " . . . why does he hit me?"

Acacia set her books down and slowly got off the fence, moving cautiously toward Joe, "I don't know . . . I don't know, Joe, but I'm not going to hurt you. It's alright."

Joe made an aborted attempt to evade her but Acacia's hands closed around his and she held on, yet her grip was so slight that he would have easily been able to break away, it would have been so simple to just knock her hands aside and sneer at her but then Joe was kneeling in the dead grass and crying like his life was over while Acacia hugged him.

"This way." Joe led Acacia several months later through the crowded streets of Edinburgh, it was a festival night so naturally every Tom, Dick, and Harry was out and about.

Acacia clung to Joe's sleeve, normally it was difficult to see without her glasses but with it being nighttime and the overcrowding, she was extra aware of her handicap, "I'd hate to get lost . . . "

"I know." Joe murmured as they made their way through the hustle and bustle out to a backfield where they could easily watch the fireworks, a novelty in these parts reserved for special occasions.

Joe spread out an old blanket and they sat together and waited. After a few moments and much glancing to see if she was paying attention, Joe slid closer to Acacia, still she didn't stir, so Joe stretched out his hand and brought it down next to hers on the blanket. His heart was racing and he swallowed but carefully moved it closer until their fingers touched, Acacia started and slowly looked at Joe but didn't stop him so he carefully wrapped his long fingers around her tiny hand, holding it like a precious, baby bird.

He opened his mouth to say something but the first firework went off and he yelped in surprise, causing him to blush in embarrassment. Luckily it was dark so the bright red splotches went unnoticed on his otherwise pallid skin. Acacia only giggled then gave her own little shriek at the next one, her thorns materialized and she leapt across the blanket and clung onto Joe.

Joe's eyes widened and he let go of her hand in surprise then relaxed as the color and light faded from the sky and Acacia looked away bashfully,

"Sorry, it startled me."

"It . . . " Joe cleared his throat and had to shout as a volley of fireworks went off, "It's alright."

Acacia looked up at Joe then scooted closer so that her back was pressing into his chest, Joe swallowed and then tentatively put his arms around her protectively, feeling an odd fluttering in his chest and wondering if perhaps he was coming down with something but quickly dismissed the thought when Acacia ooh-ed and aah-ed along with the rest of the crowd and he was able to forget everything when she put her hand up to clasp his arm and all was right with the world for the briefest most fleeting of moments.

Then she was just . . . gone.

Joe stood dumbfounded at the empty house and clutched at the note in his hand, it was a message from Acacia saying that she would write and that he meant so much to her and that she would never forget his birthday or to visit . . . but she had to go. Don't worry. I love you.

The fluttering that had occupied Joe's heart for so long was suddenly gone and left in its place was a heavy, agonizing weight; his songbird, his sunshine, his spring was gone and all that remained was a desolate winter.

Joe gasped as his lungs struggled to find a way to guide air past a mysterious lump in his throat and he fled, bumping into people and things but not stopping until he reached his home.

He stopped and quickly put the note in his pocket again and straightened his clothes, with a stiff upper lip and neutral facial expression, he entered the house he'd lived in all his life. Joe carefully made it to the staircase of the large house and was about to walk up the stairs and find sanctuary and privacy in his own room when the door to his immediate left opened and firelight poured onto the carpet, illuminating him and he was certain his shadow was trembling as much as he was.

"Where have you been?"

Joe swallowed and slowly looked around to see his father framed in the doorway, "I was just out for a walk, Papa."

Alistair Douglas, owner of a successful shipping company, looked down his short nose at his son, he was a full two heads taller than Joe and quite a bit wider, his graying black hair was slicked back and his blue-green eyes narrowed almost to slits, he pointed behind him to the study,

"Get in here, now."

Joe followed his father into the room and waited while the door closed and locked behind him, then he watched his father move to sit behind his desk next to the lit fire,

"I'll ask ya again, boy, where were you?"

Joe licked his lips and took a slow, nonthreatening breath, "I was just out for a short walk, Papa, I went to the end of the street and came right back."

"Rubbish."

Joe didn't bother to argue, even though this was such a simple conversation, he refrained from opening his mouth. He got hit a lot less when he was quiet.

"I'll tell you where you've been," Alistair stood up and moved to stand in front of the fire, staring into it, "Ya went ta see that little tramp, that dirty, little witch."

Joe ground his teeth in the Herculean effort of not speaking.

"I'll bet my ship on it. Ya went over there, but tell me, did ya find yer little witch?" Alistair turned around slowly, a sick, twisted grin on his face.

Joe was silent for only a moment more before he felt himself cracking inside, " . . . no, Papa."

"No, you didn't," Alistair moved to stand in front of Joe, "And do ya know why?"

Joe shook his head though his large brown eyes were already watering.

"Because a little bird told me they didn't have the proper papers to be in our fine countryside." Alistair put a heavy hand on Joe's shoulder, his grip tight and threatening.

"You . . . you called the police?" Joe's knees shook and the lump reappeared.

Alistair chuckled darkly, "Of course I did, have to protect my dear, wee son from such trash, don't I? Have to make sure he isn't mixing bad blood into our pure pedigree."

Joe's world was falling out from under him, his mouth opened several times but there was nothing to say, his own father had taken his last, precious possession away from him, "How could you . . . ? I loved h-"

Alistair smacked Joe across the face, sending the already weak-kneed boy to the floor, "Ya don't know what love is, you pathetic little waste. Now give me the note I know you have."

Joe shook his head and backed up, bolting for the door but his father was faster, his massive hand clamped down on Joe's shirt and he hoisted the boy back, emptying out his pockets while Joe made a valiant effort to get away. But Alistair deflected each swing and kick as if he was being assailed with raindrops instead of limbs.

Joe howled when the note was finally extracted and he was let go, falling in a heap on the floor while his father held the note over the fire,

"No! No, please, Papa, please, I'll do anything just please let me have that back!" He reached for it but didn't attempt to get closer.

Alistair shook his head and sighed, "You'll thank me one day."

Joe sobbed as the note turned to ash right before his eyes, he didn't make a move to protect himself as his father undid his heavy leather belt or as it whistled through the air and left stinging stripes on his back that would bruise and rise.

The snow fell and Joe stood waiting expectantly at the end of the walk, this time he'd get the postcard first, this time his father wouldn't be able to burn it! This time it would be his! Joe shivered a little as his breath came from his nose or mouth in a cloud of mist, he was cold and his feet were numb but he would very patient and wait.

"Morning."

Joe turned to see the postman greeting someone down the street, the tall young man quickly made his way to him,

"Do you have anything for a Joe Douglas? Possibly Joseph?" He glanced over his shoulder absently.

"Let me take a look." The postman rifled through his satchel then came up with a card, "Here ya are, Joe Douglas."

Joe quickly took it and ran all the way to the fence where he and Acacia used to sit, once he was there he pulled the card from his inside coat pocket and sat down to look at it. It had a picture of an amusement park on one side and the words 'Happy Birthday!' and 'Miss Acacia' on the other.

Joe felt himself smile just a little and he sighed, putting the card safely in his coat pocket, she had not forgotten him and she was alright. He felt the slight flutter in his chest again, ever so briefly before it disappeared again and he was left empty, but it was enough; enough to remember to breathe and remind him that he was still alive, to remind his heart to beat underneath its stony shell, to remind his lips to smile and his skin to feel warm and he was happy even for the briefest of moments.

Then he came along.

Joe hated him the moment he heard that little ginger bastard asking about his Miss Acacia, who else could he be asking after? Who else in Edinburgh had a lovely voice and tiny feet and hated to wear her glasses? Who else could possibly be so perfect that this boy would run about asking for her? Who else would dare?

He simply would have to put this whelp into his place and that would be that.

A/N: Maybe I just have a thing for massively tragic characters but yeah, this is where I'm going with this and you can come too if you want because honestly I found Joe and Acacia's love story more . . . compelling, I suppose, in its imperfections and all the things left unsaid there was still a large amount of tenderness on Joe's part, e.g.: on his and Jack's birthday he takes the postcard out and looks at it then completely loses it when Jack takes it and causes the card to rip in half in which he flies into a rage. Why would he do that if he didn't actually care about her at all? Anywho, RnR!