On another of his late night walks through the mansion, Jack entered a large room near the front of the house, and found Arthur sitting on one of the high-backed benches, head bowed in prayer. His cheeks were wet with tears.

"Arthur? Are you alright?"

"No. Not particularly, no."

"Neither am I," he gestured at the place next to Arthur, "May I sit?"

Arthur nodded, and spoke quietly, "What's troubling you, Jack?"

"I…loved someone once. I loved him and I lost him," Jack said quietly. He held his breath, expecting Arthur to be scandalized.

Arthur thought for a moment. "I'm very sorry to hear that." He wanted to move away from this topic; it was so close to what was weighing on his own heart, but he couldn't resist asking, "Did you ever tell him how you felt?"

"He knew," Jack smiled softly. "We lived together…worked together. There was no way he didn't know. When you spend that much time with someone, you can just read them."

Arthur wondered if William had been able to sense his affections. "Did he love you?" Arthur asked.

"Yes. I think he did, in his way. It was all very complicated…"

"I understand," he said, "too well, in fact."

"Oh?" Jack said. New tears streamed down Arthur's cheeks as he struggled to contain his sobs. Jack put his arm around the trembling shoulders of the man beside him. Arthur fell into his embrace despite himself, his tears soaking into the shoulder of Jack's shirt. He held Jack and cried like he hadn't cried since the day he'd confessed his feelings to Winnie under the tree in the garden. Jack held him close, one arm still around his shoulders, his other hand stroking soothing circles against his shoulder blade.

Perhaps at any other time and with any other person, Arthur would've simple dismissed himself; but Jack's admission said that he trusted him with this secret, and Arthur felt he could trust him with his own secret as well. He and Jack were both…different, and in his embrace he felt himself calming. When he was sure he could speak, with his forehead resting on Jack's shoulder, he told him, "I loved my best friend William Marston; properly loved him. And he died before I got the chance to tell him so," Arthur's voice broke and he wept some more, "I didn't even say a proper goodbye."

Arthur squeezed Jack tightly as he finished his confession, and Jack held him in an equal embrace. "I can't tell you everything will be alright; it'll probably always hurt, but try to focus on what you had, and not how you lost it. If you spend all your time trying to make sense of that, you'll have wasted so much energy," Jack gently pulled Arthur back to look him in the eye, "And you have so much energy, Arthur; the things I've seen you do, the people you've helped, the work you're doing…you're brilliant. You will come through this."

Arthur looked at him for a moment, maybe searching Jack's face for a shred of doubt, but found none. He stared for another long moment before leaning in to press his lips against Jack's. The American brought his hand to cup Arthur's cheek, his thumb wiping gently at the wet streak of tears as his hand slid back into his light brown hair. The kiss was chaste, but firm and Jack reciprocated it with a longing that surprised him; a wave of guilt passed over him and he broke away.

"Arthur, I don't think I should…" the Englishman only looked at him. He was certain he hadn't misinterpreted things; Jack's long looks these past weeks coupled with tonight's admission? Surely he hadn't misread the signs. "I don't stay in one place for long. I don't want to hurt you. You've been through enough. If this," he gestures between them, "I mean…I would like this," he gestures again, "but you're grieving, and I—"

Arthur pressed his fingers to Jack's lips to hush him. "So you'll likely leave," he said, drawing his fingers slowly down Jack's plump lips, "Fair enough; and good on you for sharing that. But I know my own mind."

Jack looked into the other man's brown eyes, stunned by the intensity behind them. The words hung in the air for seconds that felt like hours, and then their lips were crashing into one another, once again chaste but firm. Jack carefully parted his lips and traced his tongue across Arthur's bottom lip. This time it was the Englishman's turn to withdraw. "I think, perhaps, we ought to retire…to my bedroom," Arthur said, getting to his feet and straightening his clothes.