Author's Note: This chapter is shorter than the others. It's very PG compared to every other chapter in this fic so no warnings. Thank you to the reviewers so far! I admit that I have a bad habit of not responding to reviews but if any of the guests/anons have any questions between chapters, I will respond to them in the A/N of each update. Your encouragement is very much appreciated and I am so happy to see that this fandom is still going strong :D!

Chapter 3: The Confession

The first frost brought a chill to Jack's bones and made the mornings a struggle. Between what little warmth the shared covers brought (Jack and Emily doubled up in the cold seasons to avoid purchasing extra blankets) and the late fall promising the start of winter, Jack's body protested but his will always won out. Before the first light would break in the horizon, he was outside feeding Seymour and ready to begin another day.

The last of the corn was picked, set aside for Emily to parch and add to the winter stores. His mother later took Seymour out to see the Jorgensons, who had promised to set aside a partridge and jerked venison. Thanksgiving was one of the few days they bartered for fresh meat and Jack was already looking forward to this simple luxury, to be cooked and served the next day.

By the afternoon, the frost had long since melted yet the daylight was already being chased by the oncoming evening. The many hues of orange and red splashed across the sky. Jack paused his wood-chopping, his arms aching fiercely, and allowed himself a moment to appreciate the turn of the day.

"You must be exhausted."

He was startled to hear her voice, tired enough to nearly convince himself he must be imagining it. How many weeks has it been since he last heard it?

He looked over his shoulder and sure enough, she was there. The over sized cloak that protected her from the cold made Elsa seem smaller but no less radiant in Jack's eyes. Her braid burned with the many tones of the fiery sky but her eyes remained as bright blue as a summer day. Staring into them made Jack forget the summer had ended months before.

Setting down the ax, Jack wanted to turn towards her, to believe in the warmth her voice conveyed. You must be exhausted. But all he heard was pity. Did she also believe he was as useless as her father made him out to be?

"Nothing I can't handle," Jack said coolly. He retrieved the chopped wood, adding it to the pile outside the tool shed. He could feel Elsa's eyes follow his movements and it made him feel too scrutinized. "Isn't it getting late?"

The dismissal was clear. As much as it hurt him, Jack wanted to save what little pride he had left.

"I often go for walks at this time. It helps me think," Elsa said quietly. Jack could hear her boots crunch in the hard earth behind him. "I wanted to give this to you."

From the corner of his eye, he could see the woven basket she carried in her gloved hands.

"I don't need your charity."

He roughly shoved the last log onto the top of the pile. The force toppled some of the logs off and he cursed under his breath.

He bent down to pick up the wood and noticed Elsa set down her basket and do the same.

"Elsa…" he warned.

Her pristine skirts dragged in the earth, soiling a garment that would probably cost their entire winter stock to barter for. Here she was, a woman worth more than the skin on his back, dirtying herself for him. Because that's all Jack ever was: a stain against her perfection.

Her gloved hand grasped his arm tightly. Jack's breath hitched.

"Jack…please," she whispered.

Then, without another word, she began stacking the wood. They worked together in silence for many minutes, the tension thick enough that not even the Overland's recently sharpened cutlery could slice through it. Once finished, they let the silence drag, both of them still crouched in the soil.

"This isn't charity," Elsa finally said. She placed the basket between them and lifted cloth. "It's an apology."

A rich smell wafted from the basket, immediately causing Jack's mouth to water. A small piece of sliced bread had been carefully wedged against a bowl of stew. Given the distance of their properties, the stew was lukewarm at best but the gesture made Jack feel like an ass.

"It's hardly a meal," Elsa said, shyly. "But I made it fresh earlier. I thought you would like it."

Jack carefully raised the bowl from the basket. It was still warm to the touch and smelled delicious.

"My father was so unkind to you," Elsa continued. She folded her hands in her lap, dropping her gaze. "As was I. I shouldn't have let him say those things to you."

Jack took a sip from the bowl and actually heard himself groan. "This is amazing, Elsa."

She flushed but failed to hold back her laugh. Jack felt like a glutton as he downed the rest of it but it had been hours since he last ate. Taking the bread, he dipped it in the bowl and chewed hungrily on it. Then, recalling how he had acted, he looked guiltily back at Elsa.

"He's right, though."

Elsa started to shake her head but that didn't stop Jack from his self-pity.

"He is, Elsa. You know he is," Jack said. Swallowing the last of the bread, he sighed. "I'm not the man my father was. I do my best but…I can barely keep up. And when I'm not failing at farming, I'm messing everything else up. Had anyone else seen us that day, you would have been ruined."

As Elsa realized what he was talking about, her face went crimson. "Jack—really, it's not that big of a deal—"

"No, it is. I should be the one making it up to you. Instead, I keep fucking things up."

She coughed a little uncomfortably at the expletive. "Well…"

"He's only looking out for you, Elsa," Jack pressed on. "He doesn't want you to have idiots for friends. He probably thinks I'm a bad influence."

"Friends?" Elsa looked quite surprised. Even to him, the word sounded misplaced. "…you really don't know what this is about…"

Now it was Jack's turn to be surprised. "The man's never liked me, Elsa. He's made that clear since we were kids."

"He's only disliked you because he knows me better than I know myself." As the words slipped out, Elsa drew a hand to her lips. It was like she was trying to catch the sound but it was already too late. It only made Jack all the more confused. "I've said too much."

Gathering the basket and her skirts, she stood up abruptly. "I need to get home."

"Huh?" Jack was completely dumbfounded. Elsa was already retreating towards the path in the trees. "Elsa? Elsa, wait!"

Jack stumbled to his feet and began to pursue her. Despite their height differences, Elsa had a killer stride in her heels. It wasn't until they had both entered into the trees that Jack finally caught up with her, breathing heavily. "Elsa! W-wait up!"

He grasped her arm and she stopped abruptly. He almost collided into her. She was also panting.

"Wh-what does that even mean?"

From where his hand gripped her shoulder, he could feel her tremble. He was almost foolish enough to believe it was from the early evening air.

"I lied to you," she said. Her voice was shaky. "That day in the market."

Had she even heard his question?

"I…I don't know…" he began.

She turned, staring up at him with wide eyes. Jack swallowed uncomfortably. She looked more vulnerable and exposed than she had in the creek.

"I told you my father wanted me there. But he didn't," she explained. "I asked him—no, I begged him to let me go."

"So you wanted to do some shopping…" Jack said, a bit stupidly.

"You're really not following me," Elsa said, with a shaky sigh. Placing her hand gently on his wrist, she gazed at him with raw, unbidden affection. "It wasn't about shopping, Jack. I went to the market with the sole purpose of seeing you."

"…but we live next to each other…"

He didn't understand this. None of this was making any sense.

"My father hardly lets me out of his sight, not since turning 16 this summer. Haven't you noticed we hardly see each other anymore?" Elsa explained. "The only reason I came tonight is because he's in town on business."

Jack stared at Elsa in disbelief. He had attributed their distance to his schedule and her anger at the incident in the creek. He hadn't thought her father had forbidden her from seeing him.

"So you're saying…you're not angry I saw you naked?"

"Well—I—" Elsa cleared her throat nervously. "That's beside the point."

"Well then what is the point, Elsa?" Jack said, growing frustrated. "Because all you've said so far is your dad has it out for me. That's just how it's always been. How does you turning 16 change any of this?!"

"Because he sees the way I look at you!"

Her entire body was shaking. Her confession made time itself stand still as Jack fell into stunned silence. The hand that had gripped her fell loosely to his side.

Elsa waited for Jack to say something but each moment ripped away the little piece of herself she had given him. The hope in her eyes dimmed with silent rejection, eyes sparkling with tears. "Forget I said anything. Goodnight, Jack."

It wasn't until her boots crunched over the fallen leaves that Jack remembered to breathe. He tried to find his voice, to call out to her, but his pounding heart was screaming in his ears. He was certain it would drown out any sound he tried to make.

It took only three strides for Jack to close the distance. He was gripping her hard, turning her with enough force to press her against his chest. Her sharp intake of breath was silenced by the lips that crashed against hers, the kiss both confession and apology. She was so close that her scent intoxicated him, made him delirious. He had always thought that if he tasted those lips, it would drown his thirst for her but it only made him want to drink more from her.

Pulling back from her, he sighed softly, resting his head against hers. A low shiver curled down his spine but he was certain he wasn't shaking from the cold. As he opened his eyes to gaze into hers, a lone tear escaped down her cheek.

"Hey," he whispered, his trembling hand coming up to wipe away the tear. Her cheek felt smooth against his rough fingers. "It's okay, Elsa. It's going to be okay."

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. She gripped his hand and stepped back from him. "It's not. Jack…"

As she said his name, her voice cracked. He tried to reach for her but she dropped his hand and stepped away once more.

"Elsa…" he said, worriedly. "What's wrong?"

"This can't be, this won't work."

"If we just tell your father—"

"No, it's too late," she cried, wiping at her tears. "I've already been promised to someone else."

Jack's body froze. With just a few words, he could feel his entire world shatter. "Who?"

Like a fool, he had to ask. But that same, sinking feeling he had experienced in the market came roaring back, burning in the pit of his stomach. He already knew what her answer would be.

"Hans Westergaard."