Jack and Steve sat in the Spectator office on opposite sides of Jack's desk for several minutes, each in their own thoughts. Jack genuinely wanted to buy into Steve's optimism and confidence about his future with Jennifer. Last fall, after Harper's death, he had given into despair, which led to his breakup with Jennifer and her getting involved with Lawrence in the first place.

But, despite that little tiny nugget of hope that he felt, his innate sense of practicality and realism, instilled by growing up in the political arena and honed by his time in journalism, told him otherwise. He had learned growing up in Washington that you only pick the battles that you could win. As the boss at the Spectator, he knew that you only assigned out the articles that would create a good story. You just don't waste your time fighting a losing battle or pursuing an unpublishable story.

So Jennifer where do we go from here?

Jack thought back to those days in the villa when Jennifer was held prisoner and completely at Lawrence's (lack of) mercy. He could have hurt her several times, repeatedly, gotten his henchmen to join in. The possibilities of the extent of his cruelty were endless. Jack started feeling sick again thinking of all the ways that Lawrence could have violated her. Jack had been powerless to stop him.

Jennifer never revealed any of her pain. She had kept it all bottled up. So much she felt was necessary to remain unsaid. Until it just exploded last night at the cabin and she had said the worst thing and the wrong thing to Jack. And that whole time since they had returned home—what did he say? How did he react? He acted selfishly he told himself and he had promised in the Embassy in New York that he never would again. And yet, he did it again. He was so desperate that the past not repeat itself that he went looking for false analogies, false comparisons, false relationships between Jennifer and Francois just as there had been between Steve and Kayla.

Jack looked down at his left hand and imagined himself as he had been, then looked at his right hand and imagined Lawrence as he was now. They both had excellent educations, training in the elitist hobbies such as fencing, sailing, and polo. They both had the veneer of sophistication and of being civilized. And yet they were both entitled, overly indulged, self-absorbed people. He had held Kayla against her will in the loft just as Lawrence had held Jennifer. Looking back and forth between his left and right hand, he saw them as mirror images and likewise projected Lawrence back onto himself.

In that moment, Jack felt he had to be tough on himself. He had to equate himself with Lawrence because anything less would be delusion. He would merely be denying and equivocating how bad he had really been. Seeing Lawrence now, seeing that man's actions now as a mirror for how he had been, he felt anew all the pain and anguish he had caused. The pain he was feeling now was similar to the pain he had caused to Steve then. Knowing now, the depth and the extent of the pain, he was amazed again that Steve and Kayla had ever forgiven him.

Jack leaned forward, putting his elbows on his desk and burying his face in his hands.

Seeing the change, Steve asked, "What's going down here, man?"

Jack glances up looking forlorn and emotionally spent, "Me. I'm thinking of how I was back then—I wasn't too terribly different than Lawrence. Not enough to be really significant. I remember how I was back then. I see myself. I remember everything I said and did and what I was thinking and feeling at the time, but still, looking back, it just doesn't feel like me. I was sadistic and cruel."

Steve nodded, "Yes you were." Jack rolled his eyes. "You were," Steve continued, "I can say that in one breath and call you my little brother in the next. I am able to do that."

"This is something I've never really admitted to myself until tonight. And you may hate me all over again."

Steve got up and paced the room. This evening had been testing him greatly and he felt like he was getting kicked all over creation. Everything about the past, about Kayla was being laid bare tonight between them.

"That night of the election, after I saw the pictures and knew the truth, I followed you and Kayla on the docks and saw you together. You two were laughing and joking about which one of you would have to be the one to tell me. I felt like such a fool and it only made me angrier at both of you."

Steve stopped pacing and looked at Jack, stunned. He remembered having that conversation when both he and Kayla were giddy about finally being able to get back together. However, they had laughed about who would tell Jack and of course, who would break Jack's heart, 'I'm not going to tell, you tell him' Steve recalled them saying, the words replaying over in his head.

"Oh God Jack. I didn't know. We didn't mean it like that. You know me now."

"I know. But that evening, it wasn't planned. When we into the loft that night, I swear I didn't plan that. But in that moment, in that moment when everything switched, I didn't want to hurt Kayla, but I wanted to give you some payback for sleeping with my wife. I was too cowardly to do it directly. I could only hurt you by paying people to beat you up and," Jack paused, not sure if should complete this sentence, but all truths were being spoken tonight, "and I could only hurt you through Kayla."

Jack looked down at his hands—he could not look up at Steve after making that admission.

Steve stood there frozen for a minute, processing what Jack was telling him. Steve stared at Jack, his voice icy, "Look at me," Jack looked up and saw his fiery glare to match his icy voice. "Are you telling me that one of your goals when you forced Kayla down on that couch, forced yourself on top of her, and forced her into sex with you, was to get revenge on me?"

Jack cringed; he'd pushed the honesty too far. He shouldn't have said that to Steve. Looking at his brother, hearing his words and his voice, he worried that he could feel their relationship slipping away. He had started this train of thought; he had to see it through to the end and try to salvage something from this disaster and pull them back from the brink.

"It's tough now all these years later, to fully examine and to know what the conscious and subconscious motivations at that moment were. I've given it a lot of thought; believe me, a lotof thought. It was my intention; you were in that room too."

Steve got even more upset and hit the wall where Harper's portrait had been. The same spot that Jennifer had thrown a glass at earlier that day. Jack half-wondered if Harper's ghost was affecting others as much as him.

Steve paced back and forth in the office, but he didn't leave. "Steve…" Jack began.

"Shut up," Steve ordered. Every so often, he'd stop pacing turn to look at Jack, get angry and then start pacing again. Eventually, he leaned up against a wall, looking up at the ceiling. He let out a long breath and then came and sat back down in his chair in front of the desk.

"Steve…" Jack began tentatively, "If you want to go..."

Steve crinkled up his nose. "If I wanted to go, I'd go, I wouldn't need your damn permission."

Jack put up his hand to concede the point, "Of course."

"I'm not walking out on you," Steve continued. "I promised I'd see you through this thing tonight and I meant it, regardless of whatever new garbage you wanted to dump on me."

"You know, it's getting late and those initial moments when I learned the truth. Whew, tsunami, but I'm better now, I've adjusted to this new reality." Jack rose to his feet, but stayed behind his desk. "We should just call it a night because I'm spending all this time just remembering how much like Lawrence I was and I would just rather not think…"

Steve put his hand on Jack's shoulder to keep him in place. "I have something more to say and you're going to shut up and you're going to listen. It's important. You got me?"

"Okay," Jack agreed.

"For most of my life, you haven't known me. I doubt you really know me now. If you did, you wouldn't say half of the stupid crap you say about me," Steve said, his hands no longer on Jack.

But now Jack was confused.

"The truth is, I meant what I said earlier. I was a criminal."

Jack scoffed, "Yeah right, I really wouldn't describe pool hustling or roughing up some people who deserved it as major criminal behavior. Definitely not on my level."

Steve crossed his arms, "Well, it wasn't the same, but I was cruel and I was sadistic." Jack was surprised at that statement.

Steve went on, "I know you've got me up on some damn pedestal, but I don't belong there. You want to know what I did to Hope?"

"You and Hope were friends."

"Yeah, later on. She forgave me. Do you want to know what I did?"

Jack's eyes got big, he wasn't quite sure what Steve was about to confess to doing.

"I hated Bo. Loathed Bo. Over a woman. Over Bo giving me this damn pirate look. Stupid, right? Getting that crazy over a woman that wasn't Kayla. So, you know what I did? I kidnapped Hope. I scared her. I put her through this psychological torture."

"What?"

"Yeah. I did that. I ain't no saint. To get revenge on Bo, I put Hope through hell. I threatened to drip acid on her face as a way to get at Bo. Hope didn't do anything against me—I used her, I hurt her to get at Bo. I took a job to mess with a woman in Cleveland and you know why I took the job—because I found out it was Bo's sister. That's how I met Kayla. I'm not the best example, if I were to be judged only by that part of my past, huh?"

Jack sat there, stunned. He had never known any of this.

"Obviously, I didn't do the crap you did, but I turned my life around. I got forgiveness from Bo and Hope. Kayla taught me everything that I know about love and she helped me turn my life around. With everything she did for me, she's earned my lifelong love and devotion; we are forever bound. I vowed that after all the bad stuff that I did, that I would make sure that nothing else would ever harm her or touch her ever. She pulled me out of the pit of hell—a sentiment that you can probably agree with and ascribe towards Jennifer. Your past mistakes don't negate and they don't invalidate the person you are today and the love you feel today for Jennifer."

Jack sat back in his chair, stunned by all of his brother's revelations. "Steve, I don't know what to think. I had no idea."

Steve shrugged it off, "Well when you first met me, you already had me pegged as a gutter rat. Why would I confirm that?"

"Guess you wouldn't," Jack paused, looked around, and checked his watch. "Steve, you've been here with me for hours. You stood by while I spilled my guts literally and figuratively. I really do need to get out of here now. I need some air and you've missed Stephanie's bedtime."

"Yeah, I think we both need some time to decompress from tonight. But you know, there's nowhere else I would've preferred to be."

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It wasn't obscenely late, but it was late, about 10:30, when Jack landed on Jennifer's doorstep. He wasn't sure what he would say, but he wanted to see her tonight and try to undo some of the awful things he had said earlier that day and last night.

He knocked on the door and Frankie answered. He immediately stepped to one side and let Jack through. "Jennifer's asleep already, but you're welcome here of course."

Jack nodded. He had thought Frankie was his competition—that Jennifer was somehow flirting with the idea of rekindling that old love with him. He knew now, deeply humbled, that was the last thing Jennifer wanted. She didn't want to make love to anyone and that's why she wanted Frankie here. Because for Jennifer, Frankie was safe and platonic. In her mind, there was no worry or pressure of anything sexual ever happening between them.

"I'd like to go up and see her, even if she's sleeping. I won't wake her."

Frankie gestured upstairs indicating he had no problem with it and wouldn't stand in Jack's way. "Just so you know," Frankie began, "She sleeps with a light on these days. Don't turn it off. I did that once when I thought she'd left it on accidentally. Thirty minutes later, I could hear her screaming from some nightmare."

Jack lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "So anyway," Frankie continued, "Don't turn off her lights."

"Okay," Jack agreed. "Francois, tell me. Did Jennifer ever tell you what has been bothering her?"

"Why?" Frankie asked, instantly on guard.

"I'm not asking you for any specifics or to betray any confidences, I just wanted to know if she had you to talk to. That's all." Jack replied.

"No, she never told me," Frankie replied.

"Okay," Jack said. He actually wished that she had confided in him; then he felt amazed in how much his outlook and circumstances had shifted. He knew from speaking with Jennifer's grandmother, Mrs. Horton, that morning that she hadn't confided in her. Frankie just said that she hadn't spoken with him either. That only left Carly and Melissa. He felt sure that she wouldn't talk to Carly—she had been in a relationship with that Alamaniac and had consensual sex with the man. Best friend or not, that's not a very conducive circumstance to saying that Carly's ex-lover had raped her. That only left Melissa and Jack doubted she had spoken to her. Melissa had too much going on with Emilio and at Christmas, Jack didn't catch the slightest whiff of a shared secret between Jennifer and Melissa. That basically left nobody. No friends that Jennifer had confided in. No one to help her all these weeks since the villa. Jennifer had kept herself emotionally isolated since they had returned to Salem as she had been physically isolated in Alamania.

Jack ascended the stairs and went into Jennifer's bedroom. He knew he was uninvited and she may not like to wake up and find him here, but just for tonight, he wanted to sit here and watch over her and make sure that no nightmares came to her. He saw her sleeping so peacefully, her lustrous blond hair spread across her pillow and right cheek. She occasionally made these sweet sounding sighs. His heart swelled with love for her. If he could have just the tiniest measure of hope for them—well, that would be everything.

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Two hours later, Steve was back at home and sitting on a couch in the living room with just one table lamp. He felt completely spent after the evening's revelations. It had been such a trying emotional rollercoaster for both his brother and him. He had sat here nearly in the dark for a long time just trying to process it all. Wishing he had done some things differently and yet still glad that he had held himself together. As difficult as it was, he had stayed there with his brother for as long as Jack had needed him. Perhaps, Steve told himself that it was even better this way—that Jack had found out from him and not from Jennifer. This way gave Jack the opportunity to quell his instinct to run. When Jack finally did speak of this with Jennifer, he would be in a much better frame of mind and able to be a much better support for her.

He heard Kayla padding down the stairs in her slippers. "You're back," she said when she reached the couch. "Did you speak to Jack?"

Steve nodded. Kayla sat down beside him and put her arm around his back. "Did he… Is he guilty of what you were worried about?"

Steve shook his head. "No. He didn't do anything wrong. But tonight was not easy and actually, I was wrong. Before I realized the truth, I hit him and accused him."

"Would you like to talk about it?" She knew how much Jack meant to Steve and for his sake, she was willing to be fully invested. She knew Steve felt free to be a brother to Jack, but she wanted him to know that he didn't have to wall that relationship off from her the rest of their lives.

Steve looked at Kayla and remembered everything that had been discussed that night. "No. You don't want to hear about this."

Kayla picked up his hand. "Steve, I consider myself far more your wife than his victim. Please, talk to me."

Steve looked into her eyes and reached up to cup her cheek with his palm. "God, I love you." Steve stopped to exhale. "Jennifer was raped."

Kayla grew very still. "You thought it was Jack?"

Steve shook his head. "I don't know what I was thinking, truly. He didn't even know about the rape until I told him. Then to see the heartache play out with him. It was awful." Steve dropped his hands back to his lap. "It brought back so many painful memories. And with the memories came a lot of anger. Anger that I had to do my very best to set aside so that I could be there…for him…in the present."

"How is Jennifer?" Kayla asked.

"I don't know. She's not taking it well I think. Jack thinks it was Lawrence and that it happened at his villa. I suspect he is correct. I overhead her on the phone this afternoon—that's how I found out—that she hasn't told anyone so I don't think she's allowing herself much support."

"I hope she gets it. That's vital to keeping yourself mentally and physically away from your attacker."

Steve nodded. Kayla looked like she wanted to ask something, but debated about how to phrase it or if she should even ask. Finally, she did.

"Did you talk about me?"

Steve turned to look at her. The old struggle of positioning himself between his wife and his brother returned. He kept betraying one for the sake of the other. He had broken Kayla's heart so that she would turn to Jack and marry him. He had betrayed his brother by making love to Kayla after she learned the truth while the two were still married. He had asked Kayla after the kidney transplant to 'forgive' Jack to lower his risk of rejecting the donated organ. He had kept a high wall up around his past issues with Jack out of respect for his wife. Tonight all those walls had come crashing down and he felt that was yet another betrayal to Kayla on Jack's behalf.

"Only generally. Nothing specific. I talked more about me and how I had felt," Steve finally said.

"Did he talk about me?" Kayla asked. One look at her husband's face and she knew that Jack had. She stood up, surprised that feelings of violation that she hadn't experienced for years came rushing back. Jack had stolen that knowledge about her; he had no right to those memories.

"Briefly. I stopped him. It won't happen again."

Kayla crossed her arms, determined. "I'll make sure of that."

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Jennifer blinked several times as the morning's golden light streamed in through the window, overwhelming the greenish cast of the room's fluorescent lights that she kept on while she slept. Out of focus, in the corner of the room, spread out uncomfortably on her desk chair, his long legs jutting well out in front of him, was Jack. She blinked several more times to establish her focus. It was Jack. He was really here in her room.

Her rustling covers had awakened him and slowly brought him to consciousness. He rubbed his eyes, but she could tell they looked sleepy and to her astonishment, kind and loving.

Where were the hard and bitter eyes that she had seen yesterday at the office and that previous night at the cabin and downstairs after she had wounded him so deeply?The transformation didn't make sense. She was glad of it, relieved even, but it confused her greatly.

"Hi sleepy head," he said, rising from the chair and stretching to remove all of last night's kinks. "Do you mind that I'm here?"

"No," she answered. That was the truth. There was something quite reassuring to wake and find him watching over her like a sentry. He had entered her bedroom, but not her bed. It was okay. "How is it that you're here?"

"Francois let me in last night."

"You've been sleeping like that," Jennifer pointed at the chair, "all night?"

"Umm-hmm," Jack replied casually, lazily, still waking up himself.

"Why? What's happened? Is something wrong?" Jennifer was sure that something awful must have happened and he was here from pity. He hadn't just forgotten the awful things she said. She wasn't that lucky. Life didn't work like that. "Oh God, Gram?"

"Your grandmother's fine, I assume. Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to see you."

Jennifer noticed his lip and bruised jaw. "Oh Jack, you've been in a fight. Seriously, what's happened? Who did that?"

Jack sat back down in that chair. He figured that would make her more comfortable than towering over her as she sat in her bed. "It doesn't matter. I was hoping we could talk too, but this morning isn't good. I'm sure you have to get ready and run off to work. Can we meet tonight? Will you come to my place for dinner?" Jack grimaced, he should have brought flowers. He'd never invited her to dinner and not brought flowers—from the homeless guy on the highway off-ramp of course.

"I will," Jennifer answered with a small smile, excited but confused.

"Good." Jack pointed at the bedroom door. "I'm going now and leave you to get ready for your day. Have a good day and I'll see you tonight."

"Jack, couldn't you tell me what this is about? Please?"

Jennifer saw a shadow come over Jack's face. He didn't want to answer that question. "It's all okay. Let's just talk tonight."

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Jack was staring at one reporter's story for twenty minutes and hadn't red-inked it with any corrections. Normally, his edits for that particular reporter made the draft look like an autopsy, but today, just like yesterday. Jack couldn't focus or concentrate on work.

Therefore, Jack felt a jump of relief when he heard someone walk through his office door. He needed a little distraction from the edits at hand because he was accomplishing nothing anyway. That relief changed to dread when he saw who was at his door.

Kayla.

Jack jumped up, instantly deferential. He immediately realized that Steve had spoken with Kayla about last night. He wasn't sure how much Steve had said, but had most certainly related the truth about Jennifer.

Kayla shut the door behind her, but her hand stayed firmly on the doorknob. She didn't speak so Jack felt compelled to begin and fill the silence.

"I can guess why you are here, but I can't imagine that you would want to speak about that…with me." He felt unsure of what Kayla would say, but knew that he would listen and respect every word.

"There are some things," Kayla began, feeling as unsure about this conversation as Jack felt about listening to it. "I came here to tell you a few things and I would appreciate it if you would just listen, let me say my piece, and not to interrupt."

Jack nodded his agreement. He started to move round the desk and gesture for Kayla to sit down. "And I would really appreciate it if you would stay behind your desk and I'll stand here." Jack nodded again and returned to behind his desk. He stayed standing, with the desk as a divider, and Kayla stayed at the door, holding on to the doorknob, as far from him as possible, and prepared to be gone without a second's notice.

"Have you spoken with Jennifer?" Kayla asked.

"No, not about this." Jack went on to amend his answer. "I mean I talked with her this morning, but she was busy trying to get ready for work and then would have to run off to her job. I couldn't ask her about all this and then expect her to be okay at work. I asked her to meet me tonight to talk."

Kayla nodded.

"She sleeps with a light on," Jack admitted, still amazed at how thoroughly the rape had penetrated into her mind, life, and psyche.

"Yes," Kayla replied simply, as though she expected it. No power on Earth would make Jack ask her if she had slept with a light on during the aftermath of what he had done.

"I feel bad for Jennifer," Kayla continued. "She's a wonderful, caring woman and I'd like to help her. However, I don't feel I would be helping her or doing her any favors if I were to talk to her directly about my…experiences."

Jack winced, horrified at that suggestion, which Kayla ignored and went on. "Since I don't think anything I could say to Jennifer would truly help her with her life and with moving forward in her life, that's why I'm here talking to you…instead. I think the best way I can help Jennifer is by reaching…you."

Jack nodded.

"When a woman has been raped…" Kayla stopped, closed and opened her eyes, and then decided to start again. "When I was raped, my life changed in a hundred different ways afterwards. I dressed differently, I checked the locks on my doors several times before going to sleep. I couldn't stand to be touched by anyone, man or woman, and yet I never wanted to be alone unless sometimes I did want to be alone so that I could just feel hurt or scared or whatever without someone constantly studying me or asking me every five minutes, 'Are you okay? Are you okay?'" Kayla gave a rueful expression remembering those times as Jack gripped the edge of the desk. He struggled to stay standing, to not ask her to stop, to not cover his ears, but he was determined to listen through to the end.

If Kayla could bear it to be done, then Jack could damn well stand there and listen to it.

"I hid most of those changes from the world. From everyone but Steve and the counselor I spoke with. I didn't reveal too much to my family or coworkers. I just didn't feel like it was their business. But I definitely did not want you to know. I did not want you to know my truth and how much you had affected me and changed me. I knew you had been determined to not be ignored, to not be disregarded, to not be forgotten as I went off to my happy life with Steve. Which was understandable I suppose, but didn't justify what came after. When you raped me, you did it to 'brand' me as yours—no different than a rancher with a branding iron on cattle and the effect was just as permanent, just as…insulting. I would not give you the satisfaction of knowing how well that you had succeeded. I would not allow you to take that extra pound of my flesh."

Kayla's words were like daggers to him, but he knew he needed to hear all of this.

"So I only let you see that I was strong and resistant and determined. I never let you see the days that I stayed the whole day in bed not wanting to go out and see people. I never wanted you to know that the rape didn't end for me when you zipped up your pants."

Jack looked up at the ceiling, at the side door leading to the bathroom—anywhere but looking at her for the moment. Abject shame for who he had been, what he had done, pierced through him stronger than ever. Kayla paused, measured him, took a deep breath, and continued on.

"But you've seen it now or you've seen something like it…with Jennifer. You've witnessed first-hand all the big and small changes that happen in a woman's life. You have changed enough from that time so that you have earned the love and acceptance of a wonderful woman like Jennifer. Since you have changed, I feel more confident that these words will have sufficient impact on you so that I'm willing to speak of it. More impact I mean than what I said at the trial."

At the trial, Kayla was forced to speak about the rape and somewhat about the effect of what he had done. But back then he was too filled with anger that he wasn't ready to listen and fully comprehend the consequences of her words.

"Jennifer will put this behind her, I promise you that. I hardly think of the rape at all anymore—even when I see you. Except for times like these of course. But it is a long road to get from there to here. Because when a woman is raped, she is rendered powerless—powerless to stop it from happening, powerless to prevent it from invading every part of her mind. She feels like her choices and desires don't matter, are not to be counted or considered. Her choice is irrelevant. And part of the way back is to re-establish that power over her life and to know that her choices do matter."

"And Jennifer chose you."

Kayla paused to make sure that statement did not get disregarded or its import lost in everything else she was saying.

"She chose you and you should respect that. Don't undermine that choice; don't subvert that choice by thinking you know better, that suddenly with the change in circumstances that you aren't good enough for her anymore."

Kayla stopped and nodded, "Yes I know you. I know how you think. I don't even need you to tell me that's already occurred to you. However, I'm telling you now. Do not disregard her choice or make her powerless in this decision about whether you two stay together. She wants you. She agreed to marry you, despite everything."

"Do not walk away from her because she was raped and you think that because of your past that she's better off without you. If you do that, Jack, then you are punishing her for being raped."

Kayla adjusted the shoulder strap of her purse and glanced at the door behind her. "I'm going to go now. I'm not interested to hear anything you might wish to say. I hope you heard me and try to heed my advice, for Jennifer's sake and for your own."

Jack nodded. He had several things he wished to say like how much he admired her for coming here and saying these difficult admissions. He knew it was on Jennifer's behalf, but he knew she also did it for him—or rather for Steve's brother. She loved her husband that much. He knew, that out of respect for Kayla, and his sister-in-law was right of course, out of respect for Jennifer's desires, he could not run away just because these next weeks and months ahead were going to be damn, damn hard.

He also knew this conversation would never be discussed at a later time and next time they saw each other, then things would remain as they had been (although Kayla would not be on the opposite side of the room, clutching her escape route). This conversation was only to be internalized and known, but never to be repeated.

Kayla turned around and left. When Jack saw the door shut, he collapsed into his desk chair.