Author's Note:

This takes place in season 14 from "The Ministry of Virtue" to "Everything is Broken part 2", but doesn't reflect on the plotlines of those episodes as Jack Walker wasn't involved in those crimes. Also, while the events of Jack's personal life as they occurred in those episodes are integral to this story, I have not copied or re-created any part of the show. I only refer to those events obliquely with the assumption you have seen the episodes.

XXXXXXXXXX

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Cartwright," Jack Walker told the woman sitting at his table with his parents.

"It's Clara," She replied. "I hear you're as eager to wed as I," She placed a hand under her stomach and let the tiny bump show.

Yes, he was eager. He wanted a life that was safe. He could stop looking over his shoulder all the time, stop worrying if anyone saw him. He would be just like everyone else, and finally belong in society. What he gave up in return was just one part of himself. Surely there was more to a man than his sexual preferences; that alone couldn't stand in the way of happiness.

"I understand you have certain desires, and you're trying to avoid the trouble that brings." She went on. "All I need from you is a father for my child. That's what matters now."

"You're both certain about this? Marry in haste, repent at leisure." His mother's voice was tremulous.

"It's all right," Jack reassured her. "I don't know what I would have done if you two hadn't known each other. This is for the best." Mother had been the one to recommend Clara. When he told her about the vandalism to his shop, and how he needed someone to help reshape his future, she had known just the woman for the job.

He turned back to the woman who had spoken so directly. "Mother gave me a general idea how you wound up in this situation."

Clara looked down at her belly again. "I thought I loved him, but when I told him I was pregnant, he decided he wasn't ready to become a father. He said it wasn't a good time for him to take on that kind of burden."

"You're no burden," He assured her. "Clara, please do me the honour of marrying me."

She put his hand in his. "I accept," She said, as if either of them had any choice in the matter.

All four of them smiled at each other. Perhaps his smile hid the pain inside, but somehow he doubted it. His father's expression kept slipping to relief, and his mother's eyes brimmed with sadness. He couldn't guess what lurked behind Clara's sweet glances. The rest of his life lay ahead of him to find out, and he told himself he didn't regret the decision.

XXXXXXXXXX

Their charade began easily enough. He held Clara's hand as they walked down the street, like he'd always wanted to do with his lovers. His gaze drifted away as he became absorbed in memories. He'd walked this same path with Llewellyn only days ago. If only he could have held his hand on their morning strolls to work, or kiss him without having to hide in the shadows. Life would be so much better if he could be with his heart's desire this freely. Clara's lace glove chafed against his day dreams. Jack pulled himself to reality and bit back a sigh. This was the life he wanted.

He kept his grip on her hand, but he couldn't pretend this was a romantic outing. They were simply parading each other in public so their small-minded neighbours wouldn't think less of them. He gave a tight smile to the same people who stood around snickering as his shop was vandalized. "You win," That smile said. "I give in, I'll behave however you think a man should." He was already getting what he wanted out of this arrangement. The rumors stopped, people spoke to him civilly, and his business went on.

Jack snuggled close to Clara and placed a hand on her belly. This child would make things right in their world. They would point to it and say "This is ours. We made this together as man and wife." This unborn person had a life ahead as unwitting proof, and an unwitting lie. A wash of pity came over him, but he shoved it back down. Lying benefited the child as much as anyone else.

She smiled back and giggled, like he'd told a joke just for her. "We're going to have a beautiful life together," She promised loudly enough for passersby to hear.

Jack caught the hint and joined in. "We still need to pick out a cake for the wedding. Why don't we try Jameson's Bakery? I've heard he offers excellent designs."

Jameson was nowhere near to being the best baker, but the best baker was a known homosexual, and Jack swore he would leave that community. His friends would get caught eventually, and he couldn't risk that kind of association. People went by without giving a single suspicious glance. He could get used to being ignored. Jack and Clara walked on, acting like an honest couple without anything to hide. So long as they kept pretending it would eventually become the truth.

XXXXXXXXXX

Jack brought Clara to his apartment in full view of anyone who cared to watch. He knew the landlady liked to look out her window this time in the evening, but for once he intended to be seen. Clara was here to stay the night. It was just another act they had planned out on their stage of lies.

"You're sure about this? You don't have to stay if you're uncomfortable." Jack asked. He tried to want her here.

"We may as well make it look like we're intimate. We can't stop the neighbours from talking, but we can at least make sure they say the right things." Clara said. "Besides, we'll have to learn to be together as husband and wife eventually."

She glanced around the apartment without much interest. The smile had dropped off her face the moment the door closed. It had stayed firmly in place all day, ready to beam at him everywhere they went, until the moment they were alone. She looked at him now with sad eyes, when she looked at him at all. Finally she sighed, and got undressed perfunctorily.

"Come to bed. There's no point making the night any longer than it is." Clara told him, and then climbed under the sheets without waiting for an answer.

He was left standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. Was he meant to consummate their relationship? Would he even be able? There was no use dithering, this was the relationship he chose, this is what he wanted his life to be now. He wanted to put the past behind him and to fall in love with her. They would be sharing a bed the rest of their lives, so he may as well get used to it now. He slid in next to her, and when she turned her back he spooned her loosely in his lap. She didn't give any sign of encouragement or rejection.

"It's alright," Clara said at length. "I promised to make an honest man of you. You can touch me."

Perhaps sex would feel just as good enclosed within her body, if he forced himself to learn. He stroked her bare arm. The skin wasn't so different, it didn't repel his senses like he thought it would. His fingers traced curved lines up and down her arm, and then gripped soft flesh. He wondered what was missing, and then realized he was unconsciously seeking the swell of bicep.

He reached under the blankets and slowly ran his hand up her thigh. His hand strayed away from her vagina, longing for the body of a man. Instead, he cupped the curve of her buttock and gently kneaded as he parted her butt cheeks. She took his hand and guided it around front. He tensed at the unfamiliar angle of her hipbone and let his hand fall on her stomach instead. Should he move his hand up or down? She didn't offer any more guidance, just lay relaxed and still beside him. After a while he realized he'd hesitated so long she'd fallen asleep. He lifted his arm from around her and rolled over on his back. Their brief encounter had left him with an ache deep in his body, a physical need without actual arousal. Sliding out of bed, he went into the water closet and shut the door carefully so not to make a noise.

There was a bottle of oil still hidden in the cupboard. It was a leftover from his previous life, something he'd either forgotten to get rid of, or he'd remembered to keep. He wasn't sure which at this point. All he wanted was relief, so he stroked a palm full of oil on his genitals. How could he feel so flaccid and lonely, when his fiancée lay in his bed just on the other side of the door? His thoughts drifted to Llewellyn, with his soft eyes and hopeless dreams, who had been the best thing to happen to him. His penis sprang to life under his hand. At last, his body started to warm, pleasure rolling through him in little waves, but he still needed more. Slick fingers probed his anus. He imagined it was Llewellyn's fingers pleasuring him, and he sped up, mimicking the same pace and pressure his lover favoured. A low grunt escaped his throat despite his clenched teeth.

There was a gentle tap on the door. "Jack? Are you alright?" Clara whispered through the closed door.

"I'm fine," He called back a bit too sharply.

"It's just, I thought I heard something. Are you hurt?" She sounded uncertain.

"It's nothing, I'll be out in a minute," Jack snapped.

After a moment he heard her footsteps receding. Had she guessed what he was really doing? Had she expected him to behave differently, to try harder at his husbandly duties? He started to wish they'd left this for their wedding night, gossiping neighbours be damned. His penis had wilted at the sound of her voice. There was no way he was going to find release tonight, not knowing Clara was listening outside the door. He washed up, went back to bed, and put an arm around her once again. Touching her did nothing to ease his frustrations. Instead he rolled away from her, and concentrated on falling asleep. At least he and Clara agreed on one point: staying up only made the night long.