Hey, everyone! Here's the third chapter. It's a little darker since it reveals Jack's past and why she's disguised as a man, as well as a little bit of Lance's story.

Hope you enjoy!


Manna leaned back on the bed and glared at Lance, who was leaning against the wall nonchalantly. "You lied," she spat. "Jack wasn't a woman."

"Sweetheart," the man said, walking towards her. He kneeled and rested his arms on her lap. "I wasn't the one who lied. Jacquelyn isn't the bustiest woman in the world – so what do you think the gauze was for?"

Manna looked at him and furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you want with Jack, anyway? Did he kill your father in a past life or something?"

Lance chuckled, low and sexy, and stood; he turned and started towards the door. "No, darling, I don't hate her – quite the opposite, in fact," he opened the door, and Manna followed him to the balcony railing. "I want her for my wife."

The two leaned against the railing and looked down at the small group of people drinking. "Which one's your husband?" Lance asked.

Manna sighed and pointed to Duke, sitting in the corner with Cliff, totally wasted and trying to get Cliff to do the same. "That drunkard there," she replied, a touch of hatred in her voice.

"Think he'd notice if you were gone for a few more hours?" Lance asked, looking at Manna and raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Being the bright woman she is, Manna caught on. Smiling slyly, she turned towards Lance, and allowed him to lead her back to the Inn's room.

--

Jack sat on a table, telling her story, while Zack in a chair next to her.

"Do you remember the little boy who came here twenty years ago?" Jack asked, to which Zack nodded. "That was Jackson, my twin brother – and I'm Jacquelyn. The reason why I didn't come, too, was because I was in the hospital with blood problems. The letter Thomas had sent out when Grandpa died was meant for Jack, but …" she hesitated, and lowered her voice. "He died five years ago in a car crash."

Zack tensed, almost dropping the doorknob he was still fumbling with. "I'm sorry to hear that, Jack … Jacquelyn."

"Don't call me that!" the woman snapped. "I can't have anyone else knowing this!"

"But I can't just call you 'Jack' anymore!"

"Why not?! You've been calling me that for three years!"

"You're a girl now!"

"I've been a girl for twenty-five years!"

"No – you've been a man for the past three years!"

"It's not that big of a deal!"

"Yes, it is!!"

The argument died as Jack looked at Zack, who had a pained expression and was rubbing his forehead. "Does … does it really bother you that much?" She asked, concerned.

Zack nodded before he spoke; still staring at the broken knob he was turning in his hand. "It feels like I've lost my best friend, Jaquel … Jack," he muttered, sighing. He glanced at the woman out of the corner of his eye, but only for a brief second, as if the sight would make his eyes melt. "Look at you – you're beautiful. There's no way I could ever think of you the same way – of course that bothers me"

Jack played with her shirt, staring at it sadly. "I'm sorry, Zack," she whispered.

"Don't be, but please tell me – why are you doing this? What are you hiding from?"

Jack hesitated and looked away from Zack. "I'm a runaway bride," she finally said. "I'm betrothed to a rich man named Lance." She chuckled, still sounding sad. "I mean, I don't know why I'm running away – he's handsome, he could provide everything I could ever want, but …" She trailed off, letting Zack finish her sentence.

"That's not what you want …?"

"No, it's not! My stupid mother engaged us – she loves him more than she does my father! – and she expects me to be happy?! I don't want a boy who's had everything handed to him – hell, he didn't even earn it! His father got lucky in the stock market! That boy is so rich he could hire someone to pick his nose!" She finally calmed down. Sighing, she continued. "I … I want a man; a hard working man, like my father, who has to earn his paycheck by getting a little dirty. I don't want it to be easy."

There was silence as the two mulled over the words just said. After one or two minutes, Zack finally spoke. "It's late, I should go." As he stood, Jack hopped down from her perch on the table. They made their way to the door, and Zack turned, holding up the little brass knob. "Sorry for … uh … breaking your door," he muttered.

Jack smiled, her small hand taking the little brass trinket from Zack's huge hand. "Don't worry about it – I hate these things. I kept meaning to get new ones, as well as a screen door."

"Really …" Zack said, meaning it more of a rhetorical statement than anything. He opened the door, careful not to damage anything else. "Well, see you tomorrow, I guess."

Jack smiled warmly at Zack, holding the broken knob to her chest. "It'll be back to normal tomorrow, promise."

"Sure," the man said, sounding unconvinced. Half way through the door he stopped and looked over his shoulder. "By the way … you don't smile enough," he said, nervously grinning and raising his eyebrows. "When you do, your whole face lights up."

Jack smirked and shoved the broken doorknob back into its place. "Screw you, Zack," she said, kicking him out the door.

Zack laughed. "Just keep it in mind when all the guys start chasing after you!" He called out as he left.

"I said screw you!" the woman called, trying to sound more angry than playful, before closing the door.

She leaned against the door, smiling to herself, for just a few moments. Finally, she shook her head and laughed under her breath, and made her way to the big, empty kitchen where Zack had watched her make breakfast that morning; then she ate her quick supper at the big, empty dining table where she and Zack had ate said breakfast; and finally, she went to crawl into her big, empty bed where she and Zack …

Zack's never been in my bedroom yet, she thought, before blushing and slapping herself in the forehead after realizing she had added "yet" at the end of her thought. She stared at her ceiling while a smile crawled its way across her face. She rolled onto her side and hid her grinning, blushing face under a pillow, embarrassed at her own thoughts.

She fell into a deep, blissful, dreamy sleep.

--

Jack's hoe hit the ground of the mine, and a loud, piercing sound filled the air. Back in "guy-mode" he had decided to just spend the day mining, to regain his male persona – and he was feeling very manly. Covered in sweat, dirt, and grime, he felt ready to collapse from fatigue, but he continued to work hard, striving to fill his basket full of ores.

Pulling out a gold rock, he inspected it, trying to judge how much it was worth. Deeming it worthy of at least 100G, he tossed it into the basket and checked his watch. It was a little past three, but it would probably take close to two hours to get the heavy basket up the five levels he had descended.

"Hup!" he uttered as he heaved the basket over his shoulder to climb the ladder. It made him nervous to climb each ten feet with only on hand, but he managed to climb four ladders without problem.

On the fifth ladder, however, the ground was loose and sandy, and Jack gulped nervously as he started the climb. About half way up, he started to feel a little confident, and continued to climb, faster now.

He soon regretted picking up speed, though, because two rungs to the top, his hand slipped away. He cried out in panic as his hands reached for the ladder again, but only grabbed air. The basket fell and crashed against the dirt, followed by Jack, whose wrist emanated a horrible popping noise beneath him.

He would have screamed in agony, except the land and the pain together seemed to have taken all the breath out of his lungs. He sat, cradling his wrist and staring at his watch as the seconds ticked away – he found it strange that he felt the need to get to the shipping box before five o'clock. He packed all the ores back into the basket and piled junk ore and rocks around the base of the ladder for stability. He would have to use his bad arm to hold the basket, since he could no longer rest it on his shoulder.

Jack climbed the ladder slowly, and though it seemed like his hand would slip on some occasions, he managed to make it, but his wrist was throbbing. He kept glancing at his watch as he hurried down the steps and into his farmland. He could feel himself blush a little when he saw Zack leaning against the shipping crate, as if he were waiting for Jack to return.

"Hey," Jack grunted.

"What took you so long?" Zack asked, then seeing the basket full of ores, immediately reached out to take it. "Here, let me do that."

Jack pulled the basket away from Zack, staring at him, confused. "What? Why?"

Zack blinked as he looked at Jack's face. "Uh, well – because it's heavy. I don't want you to strain yourself." He reached out again, and Jack pulled it further away.

"Because it's heavy and you don't want me to strain myself?" Jack repeated, obviously offended. "Zack, the exact same things are in this basket that was there yesterday – stop reaching for it!" Jack swung the basket behind his legs. "All you did yesterday was watch me and call me a girl!"

Zack leaned forward and glanced around as he spoke. "Yeah, but that was before I knew you are a girl," he muttered. "Jacquelyn, let me-"

Jack slammed his hand over Zack's mouth. "Stop talking about that stuff, and don't call me that," he hissed through clenched teeth. "I spent all day in the mine to try to get sweaty, and dirty, and manly and I don't need you to screw it all up!" With that, he let go of his friend's face, and spun around to try to pick up the basket with one arm. That was when Zack notice his swollen hand.

"Jack, what happened to your arm?" he asked, concerned.

"I fell and landed on my wrist," he grunted, finally lifting the basket between his body and arm. "I don't think I broke it, but it's probably sprained."

"That's it – if you won't let me help you because of that reason," Zack said, grabbing the rim of the basket, "let me help you because you're hurt, and you're my friend." With that, he forced it out of Jack's hold, but not so harshly he hurt him more.

Jack stopped and watched as the shipper walked away from him. "Fine," he muttered, "I guess I can allow that." When Zack finished emptying it, he spoke again. "Just put it by the door, I'll take it in later."

Zack complied and made his way back over to the farmer, who was now sitting on the shipping box and touching his wrist tenderly. "Let me see," he grunted, taking Jack's arm.

"What? What do you know about – SWEET MOTHER OF THE GODDESS!!" He cursed loudly. Snatching his arm back, and glared at Zack. "What do you think you're doing?! I don't want it amputated!"

"I was popping it back in place!" Zack yelled back and taking Jack's arm again, holding it tightly. "Relax – I'm not going to touch it! Do you see this lump here? That's bone, Jack – your hand is dislocated and needs to be popped back in place before it's wrapped up!"

As the two quarreled and the wounded arm was jerked and flailed back and forth, neither of them noticed the man walk up to them. "What's this – a lover's spat?" He asked, just audible enough for them to hear.

Jack and Zack both turned and glared at the man. "Care to repeat that?" Zack growled.

Lance laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry – you're not a couple? I could have sworn …"

"What do you want?" Jack spat.

"Ah, I apologize." Lance held out his right hand, face down, to Jack. "Allow me to introduce myself …"

"Don't bother," Jack spat again. Looking at Lance's smug face, he continued. "I sprained my wrist, and besides – you're only a tourist. You'll be gone soon, anyway, won't you?"

Lance smirked. "Yes, you seem like the type to sprain your wrist often," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And to answer your question – I intend to stay for awhile. I intend to find a wife in this town." He laughed softly. "You have beautiful women here. I must say, though she's much too old and sickly for me, I do enjoy the company of that Lillia woman."

Jack saw Zack tense, and prayed to the Goddess he wouldn't blow up. Jack spoke before Zack could do anything. "Well, unfortunately, Lillia is happily married and all the bachelorettes here already have a boyfriend." Jack stared right into Lance's eyes, making sure he got the point across. "It would be best if you left now." The words came out stiff and blocky, but by the flash of annoyance in the other man's eye, he knew the point was sharp and painful.

Lance cleared his throat. "Very well, I suppose I should take my leave of your beautiful ranch. It was a pleasure …" he hesitated, "'meeting' you both."

"Good bye," both Jack and Zack muttered, sounding very short. Before Lance had even left the property, Jack hopped down and stormed by Zack, who was still watching Lance to make sure he left.

Jack grabbed the basket and kicked the door open, not caring that the broken doorknob clinked to the floor. He threw the basket at the wall and continued his march to the sink. Taking out a glass and starting the cold water, he sniffed loudly and still glaring angry.

"I'm assuming that asshole was Lance?" Zack grunted as he entered. He could tell by the look Jack shot him of his glass that he was right. "I can see why you didn't want to marry him – hey, are you okay?" Zack looked at his friend in concern, and made his way over, after hearing another loud sniff.

"I'm fine," Jack muttered through clenched teeth as he looked away. "It's just been a long day." As he put the empty glass in the sink, he accidentally bumped his wrist on the counter. "Mother Harvest Goddess!" he cursed again, holding his arm.

Zack ran the rest of the way to Jack. "Here, let me see – I'll help," he said when he reached the farmer, who was still looking away.

Jack pulled away, muttering a feeble, "No … don't touch it."

Zack forced Jack around and pinned him to the counter, pulling his arm free. "Let me see … are you okay, Jack?" The shipper looked down at Jack's scrunched up face – and as soon as he realized what was wrong, his heart dropped. "It's … it's okay if you cry, you know," he whispered. Jack shook his head weakly, and Zack bit his lip, thinking. "Would you be more comfortable crying if you were Jacquelyn instead of Jack?" he offered.

Jack's eyes opened. They were red, as if he had been crying, and he thought for a moment. "… Maybe," he finally whispered.

Zack let go of Jack's arm and took off his hat while pulling the string that held her hair back. He ran his fingers through it to spread out it, and, when he finally finished, he whispered, "Cry."

There were a few seconds of silence as Jack hesitated. Eventually, though, she couldn't hold her tears back. Her good arm wrapped around Zack and she held his shirt tightly and buried her face in his chest as he held her close, listening to her sobbing.

"I-it's been a r-really b-bad day-y," she said between sobs.

"Ssh, it's okay – I'm here," Zack soothed, rubbing her back in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

Jack continued to sob, even after choking on her tears. "A-and my wrist st-still r-really-y h-hurts," she managed to cough out.

Zack frowned. "We should pop that into place while you're still crying," he said. "Do you have any gauze to wrap it in?"

Jack nodded. "I-in the b-bedroom," she muttered. When Zack tried to pull away, though, she held his shirt tighter. "Please don't leave me," she whispered.

Zack looked at her. She looked small and scared – he couldn't believe this was the strong farmer man he had been best friends with for three years. But it was, and he was a she, and she needed help. He bit his lip again, thinking once more. Coming to the conclusion that Jack didn't want to move from her spot, he stepped back to where he had pinned her, and crouched down, wrapping his arms around her legs. When she looked at him frightened and confused through teary eyes, he smiled and lifted her.

Jack let out a small squeal. "W-what are y-you d-doing?" she demanded, wrapping her legs around his torso.

"Carrying you," Zack grunted as he made their way to the bedroom door. "Watch your wrist," he warned as he opened the door and walked through. He set the blushing woman down on the mattress gently and looked around. "Now – where's the gauze?"

"Top drawer of the vanity," she muttered and watched as Zack walked over and rifle through the drawer of toiletries.

"You know," he started, making his way back with the roll of material in hand, "if I had seen your room, I would have thought you were gay, but if I had seen that drawer, I would have known you were a girl." He blinked a few times and shook his head when he sat down, making Jack giggle slightly. Zack smiled, glad to have raised her spirits a little. "Okay, this will probably hurt a lot, so prepare yourself," he said, holding Jack's arm.

"Wait, I can't watch," Jack said, putting her good hand on his burly bicep and hiding her face behind his shoulder. "A-alright, I'm ready," she muttered. He did it less than a second later, and the only reason why she realized there was pain was because of the loud, juicy POP! She bit down on Zack's shoulder and whimpered, letting the new tears fall. When the immediate pain subsided, she finally looked at her wrist, which Zack was still wrapping – and doing a pretty good job, at that. She looked at his shoulder where she had bit and was wiping away any remaining saliva, when she noticed his cheeks were a little red.

"You're blushing," she said accusingly with her hand still on his shoulder. "Do you have a thing for hurting girls?"

Zack looked at her, and furrowed his eyebrows together. "Don't be stupid, of course I don't. I'm not some sick freak." He turned his head back and continued his tight wrapping.

"Then why are you blush-" Jack interrupted herself and looked at the bite marks on his shoulder. "You have a thing for biting?"

"No!" Zack denied, but the crimson his face had turned gave him away.

"Yes, you do! You have a biting fetish!" She laughed as she spoke, and wiped away her tears.

"O-only a little!" he stammered. "Don't tell anyone!"

"Of course not – unless I need to."

Zack's head whipped around. "You're using it as blackmail?"

"Why not?" Jack asked, leaning on her good hand. "You have something you can use against me; I have something I can use against you."

Zack's face scrunched up in anger as he looked away. "I would never tell anyone your secret, Jack." He tied the gauze ends together. "You're finished." With that he stood and made his way for the bedroom door, leaving a dumbstruck Jack behind.

"W-what …?" she muttered as she watched him leave the room. "Zack – wait up!" she called after him as he disappeared around the corner. She ran to the front door just as he was opening it. "Zack, I'm sorry – I didn't mean to offend you."

Zack spun around. "What did you mean to do, then, Jack?!" he demanded.

"I was just-"

"Do you take me for some low life?!"

"Zack, please-"

"Do you really think I'd tell anyone your best-kept secret?"

"Shut up, Zack, or I'll-"

"You obviously do, because – mf!" He was cut short by Jack jumping into his arms and locking lips. Jack waited a few more seconds before pulling away and smirking at Zack, who was staring at her in disbelief.

"Do I have your attention yet?" she asked him. When he nodded vigorously, her smirk widened. "Good – now Zack," she began, jumping back to the floor. Her smirk disappeared, and she looked at him seriously. "I'm really sorry for what I said back there. It was insincere of me, and I wasn't thinking when I said it." She raised her left pinky. "I promise I'll never tell anyone you like to get freaky when girls bite you," she grinned nervously, hoping she hadn't leaped over the line again.

Zack turned red again, but he didn't get angry. "I trust you, but we don't have to pinky swear over it."

Jack shook her head. "No, I want to – it's the strongest promise in the world," she said, smiling.

Zack laughed. "Alright – I promise to never tell anyone you're a cross dresser," he said, linking pinkies with Jack, adding with a tone that sounded impressed, "Or that you look stunning in the setting sunlight."

Jack laughed as she let go of Zack's finger. "Go on – you have to go finish your work."

The shipper looked at the crate full of goods. "I suppose so," he muttered. He looked back at Jack, obviously reluctant to go.

Jack smiled sadly. "If it's going to be this hard to get you to leave, I'm never kissing you again," she teased.

Zack grinned, appreciating her humour. "Do you want to grab a drink with me?" he asked, hopefully.

Jack shook her head. "No, I'm just going to relax, then sneak up to the hot springs after the sun goes down." She grinned as Zack shifted feet awkwardly. "Get going, freak," she laughed, shoving him out the door with her good hand.

"Right – oh, before I forget, here's the money for yesterday and today." Zack handed her two bags full of Gold. "See you around!" He smiled cheerfully, forgetting he was angry, and waved as he turned his back.

"Later, Zack," Jack replied, raising her hand. She watched as he carefully lifted his box over his shoulder, and, when he turned around, they grinned at each other. Zack rounded the corner of the house, and Jack finally closed the door.

She inspected her injury, and smiled, glad Zack was there when Lance showed up.

--

The owls hooted in suspicion as the shadowy figure made its way to the hot spring. She disappeared inside the dressing room and sighed in relief that no one had spotted her. Undressing as quickly as she could, Jack lit the candle she was holding and waded into the water, smiling – as hard as she worked to get dirty and sweaty, it felt so much better to wash it all off.

She sat down next to the exit, where it would be easiest to make a quick exit in case anyone did show up. She sat the candle on the rock next to her and leaned her head back, enjoying the cool spring breeze. She lowered the sprained wrist under water gently, wincing at first as the bubbles hit it, but sighed as it became more massaging.

After awhile, she dunked her head underwater and ran her fingers through it as fast as she could before her breath ran out – having thick hair like hers was tough when she worked on a farm. Satisfied with her cleaning job, she resurfaced, letting the water pop out of her ears – and, when her hearing returned, she heard a voice calling. She held her breath, ready to blow out the candle if need be, when she realized who it was and what they were saying.

"Jack! Where are you, Jackie?" the voice rang out.

"Zack?" she called out tentatively. Lo and behold, his face appeared in the doorway of the dressing cabin.

"There you are, Jack!" he said, grinning and pulling off his shirt.

Jack coiled back, ready to put up her defenses. "Were you looking for me?" she asked, more than a little suspicious, as he continued to strip.

"Yeah, I was – oops! Heh, the stones are a little slippery," Zack continued to grin as he regained balance after almost falling. He slipped into the water beside the brunette and laid his head back onto the rock, sighing. "Ah … that's nice …" he murmured.

"So was there something you wanted to ask me about?" Jack asked, still defensive. She knew there was something off about the shipper, but she couldn't place her finger on it.

"Mm, no, not really – just wanted to be near you, you know?" he replied, still with his eyes closed. They opened and he stared into the velvet sky. "Actually, there is something – I've been thinking about something Lance had said. It may be nothing, but it's just weird to say, even for him." Zack turned his head towards the woman. "When you told him you sprained your wrist, what did he mean by 'you seem like the type to do that a lot'?"

Jack looked away. "Ah – well," she started, stammering, "I … punched him once in our teen years and … I sprained my wrist." She hesitated for a moment, deep in thought, before she realized Zack was pushing up against her. "What are you doing?" she asked, shifting away from him.

Zack pushed himself against her again, the leaned over to kiss her neck and shoulder. "Stop that!" Jack demanded, scooting even further away, "What's wrong with you?" She gasped as Zack rushed up in front of her and put his hands on either side of her, and, in the candlelight, she noticed his face was washed out and his eyes were glassy. "You're drunk!" she accused, glaring at him.

"What does it matter?" he mumbled, leaning in to kiss Jack's neck again. He ignored her when she gagged at the smell of him.

Pushing his arm away, Jack made her way to the exit, calling over her shoulder, "Sober up! This is stupid, what you're doing."

"Jack …" he whispered, glaring at her as she climbed out of the water. "Jack, don't make me …"

"Don't make you what?" she demanded, wrapping the towel around her. She soon regretted her words; in a flash, Zack hopped out of the water and knocked the woman to the ground, pinning her by the good arm, and her legs down with his.

"Let go, Zack – let go!" She cried out, trying to push him away with her sprained wrist, but to no avail. She screamed and demanded to be let go again when he slipped his free hand under her towel and caressed her belly and side as he kissed her neck, shoulders, jaw, and chest.

"Zack!" she screamed, finally freeing her leg, "Let go of me!" She kicked him between the legs and he cried out in agony. Zack let Jack go and kneeled, cupping himself where she had kicked, as she scrambled to her feet. "You asshole!" She screamed, kicking him in the chest, back into the water.

Jack dressed as quickly as she could, not caring about her underwear, which she shoved into her pocket. Before she left, however, she realized Zack still hadn't resurfaced. The voices in her head were divided equally – one half screaming at her to run, the other commanding she checks to make sure Zack was okay. Her heartstrings won as she stepped nervously to the steps leading into the water.

"Zack?" she called out, hoping she was loud enough for him to hear underwater. "This isn't funny – I'm getting angrier. Come out of the water!" After a few seconds, she became anxious and she ran into the water, calling out Zack's name and feeling around for him. When her hands felt something fleshy, she felt for his arms and pulled him out.

Zack's limp body was heavy, but she managed to make it back to the small changing room. She followed all the procedures, and, finding he was still alive, thumped his back until he coughed up water.

Still coughing, Zack looked at her with confused, unfocused eyes. When he eventually realized who it was, his eyes grew wide and teary. "J-Jack …!" he coughed out, watching as she glared at him and stood. "Jack, I'm-I'm sorry …!" he managed out as she rung out her pant legs.

"I agree, Zack – you are sorry," she spat, glaring at him coughing and leaning on one hand and one elbow. As she made her way to the door, he spoke again.

"I'll make it up to you!" he called out desperately. "I promise!"

"You'll make it up to me?!" she demanded, whipping around and opening the flapping door. "How the hell do you expect to do that?!" Seeing he had to answer, she stormed out the door as Zack buried his face in his hand in shame.

"I'm so sorry," he sobbed out under his breath.

Scary. And kind of sad, too.

I've never sprained my wrist, and no one's ever tried to rape me, but this is how I imagine it would be like.

I think I'm going to have to bump this fic up to Mature, but I'll warn you guys ahead of time if I do!

REVIEW!