Trigger warning: Mention of past emotional and physical abuse alongside public humiliation and trauma. Also, mentions of the circus. Maybe not a trigger for some, but I know I don't like reading about it.

Jackson's head feels as though it's been stomped on. His mouth is dry. The stomachache…oh God, the stomachache.

"You're not going to throw up," he mutters. "You're not going to throw up."

Jackson squints as he looks around the room. He's nice and tucked in, his puppy not far away. Jackson kicks off the sheets and turns bright red. Mark really put him in a pull-up last night?

Mark.

It all comes floating back. He only intended to get a beer, maybe one shot. But Alex kept ordering one after another. Each shot relieved the tension from the past couple of weeks. He couldn't hear his mother's laughter or Mark finding out his secret. For just a couple of hours, he was loose and free.

At the expense of his new caregiver's trust.

Jackson rolls over and spots the note on the nightstand beside some pills and a bottle of water. It takes a few times for him to swallow them down. It's only then that he gags, but he quickly washes that down with more water.

Jackson doesn't want to get out of bed. His stomach hurts too much to eat. More importantly, he doesn't want to face Mark.

But his pull-up is wet and he doesn't want to lay around in that.

With a slight groan, Jackson pulls himself out of bed. Every move hurts. How is it possible for all of his muscles to ache this much? He remembers the liquid IV packets Mark keeps in the fridge. That should help with some of the pain and keep him hydrated.

Much to his surprise, Mark doesn't come in once the shower starts running. Jackson tends to himself, making sure he doesn't get a rash. He remembers the first time he got drunk his senior year. Waking up early the next morning in a similar puddle. Jackson quickly cleaned it up but Catherine still found out.

That was the final straw that got him sent to the camp.

A shudder runs down his spine as memories come flooding back.

He got sent to one of the nice ones. Jackson's treated several patients who were put in the kind that were shut down. Horrific abuse that would leave long lasting scars.

Jackson's specialized in public humiliation. If someone wet the bed, everyone was called to gather around and see. The person was chastised for doing so and emotionally harassed. If caught with your thumb in your mouth, you'd have hot sauce or lemon juice put on it.

Every "infraction" lead to a sign being put on you, while the others were encouraged to laugh and make fun. Jackson wore the "bedwetter" and "thumb sucker" signs more than once. He held his head high and blocked it all out.

A lot of the people there cried themselves to sleep but Jackson once again remained "Avery strong" as his grandfather would call it. He only cried once.

There was a list of things you weren't supposed to bring. Catherine had been warned if Jackson was caught with any of it, it'd be destroyed. He didn't want to risk losing his dog, so instead he brought Calvin. A white and black striped tiger that he got as a gift at the circus.

It was the months following the divorce. Jackson's time with Robert was becoming less and less. He was supposed to take him every other weekend, but it was more like once a month for a day here and there. The circus was in town and Robert took him. Jackson cried when he saw the animals. Even at 4, he felt like they shouldn't be on display like that. Robert took him into the gift shop after to calm him down and let him pick whatever he wanted. He told Jackson it was okay not to be brave all the time.

Robert never picked him up after that. Jackson ignored his advice and forced himself to be brave through his childhood, leading up to the camp.

He'd only snuggle with the tiger when he was sure no one was watching. Just a few minutes here and there at night. Until the time he fell asleep holding it. One of the "counselors" found him and marched him straight to the director. This time, the punishment was private.

Jackson stayed strong as they burned the stuffed animal. He didn't shed a tear when he was slapped. The director even applauded him for his bravery. It was "proof" that he was ready to go home.

Jackson didn't cry when they called Catherine to report the "good news" nor when he packed his things.

It wasn't until he was home, supposedly safe, and up in his room. He stared at Hank and the spot beside him where Calvin should've been. With the door locked, that was the first time he allowed himself to grieve the last piece he had of his father.

Jackson isn't crying right now. He's in the shower, that's why his face is wet.

Regardless, he reaches through a crack in the glass door to grab a washcloth and wipe his face dry. He takes a few deep breaths, repeating his mantra over and over.

"You're an Avery. Averys are strong. Averys are brave."

His breathing shifts back to normal and he focuses back on his hangover. The water is cold by the time he steps out and gets dressed. Jackson is in boxers and some comfy sweats promoting the hospital.

He climbs back into bed, the sheets protected by his pull-up. Just as he's about to shut his eyes and try to get more sleep, the door opens.

Mark is dressed and ready for the day. Jackson tries to read his face, but it's blank.

"Feeling like ass?"

Jackson nods. "My stomach and head hurt but I don't think I need to puke or anything."

"Good, that's good. I'd hate for you to be distracted during my lecture."

Jackson sighs, forcing himself to sit up against the pillows. "Mark…"

"You lied to me," Mark's voice is quiet, yet firm. "I don't care as much about the rest as I do about that. We had a deal. Honest to each other about everything."

Jackson bites his lip. "I know." His stomach hurts more now, but he doesn't think that's the tequila talking.

"So, why'd you do it?"

"I thought I'd be home long before you."

"That doesn't explain why you thought even that was okay."

Jackson sighs, running his fingers over his puppy's fur.

"It was April's idea." Mark opens his mouth to speak, but Jackson presses on. "I'm not saying that's why I did it. Nor would I jump off a bridge if she did." He doesn't miss the slightest smirk that plays on his caregiver's lips. "I just mean, she brought it up and it didn't sound like the worst idea. I also knew you'd say no, considering your rule about alcohol."

"It's in place for a reason, Jackson. Littles aren't supposed to drink."

"I just planned on one beer, maybe a shot or two."

"You knew it was wrong, you thought I'd say no. And so, you lied."

Jackson nods, not knowing how else to react. It feels so silly.

"Would you have said yes?" Jackson asked.

"No. But that doesn't mean you lie. I told you that you don't have to like the rules, but you also agreed to them." Mark sighs. "I need to know where you are and who you're with, always. You can't lie to me."

"I'm sorry," Jackson whispers, and he means it.

"I appreciate that, but it's not enough. You lost some of my trust last night."

Jackson's lip quivers, but he steels over. Mark walks closer. Jackson feels so small with him lingering over, staring down at him all fatherly. He's not mad, not upset. Just worried and maybe a little disappointed. Jackson's stomach hurts even more.

"You can earn it back, but it'll take a little time."

"How?"

"To start, you're grounded. 2 weeks. No going out when you're big. No electronics of any kind regardless of space." Jackson tries to fight off a pout. "You will go to work, go with me if I need to go places and that's it. If I have to work later and you haven't dropped, you'll go to my office and sit there."

Jackson wants to argue that it's not fair. That Mark is overreacting.

But he also considers punishments he received in his first childhood and lets it go.

"I want you to trust me," Jackson whispers. "I don't want you to think I'm a bad guy."

Mark frowns. "I know you're not, bud. You made a mistake. I'm not mad at you and already forgive you."

Jackson's head pounds with more than just the hangover. He lied to Mark. Sure, he was told he wasn't mad. But this is it? Grounded? The temporary loss of trust with the promise that he could earn it back eventually.

That's easy. Too easy.

"You could've gotten seriously hurt last night," Mark continues. "What if you dropped while at the bar? What if all 3 of you had? You would've been terrified. And I'd have no way to know you needed me."

Jackson chews on his lip. "I would've figured it out."

"Or, you could get sick," Mark insists. "That was so incredibly dangerous."

He cups his cheek. Jackson squirms a little. Mark's eyes are filled with parental concern and…love?

No, of course not.

"I'm not naive to think you'll never drink, but please don't do it without me there and don't get inebriated. You work in the ER, don't become a patient."

"I won't let it get that bad."

"Because I won't let it." Mark rubs his back. "Alright, gather your electronics for me."

Jackson groans. "My phone too?"

"No. That you can still use, just not for anything fun."

Jackson nods and climbs out of bed, his legs still feeling like jelly.

"Can I snag one of those liquid IVs when I'm done?"

"Of course. And I'll make you something that'll be light on your stomach."

"I don't think I could stomach anything."

"You have to eat. It's the only way you're going to feel better."

Jackson decides to cross that bridge when they come to it. He walks around his room, looking for his laptop and tablet. Usually, Mark takes them at night but he had used them before his shift the day before. He finds both on his desk and turns back around in time to see something that makes his breathing pick up.

Mark is holding Hank.

"No!"

Jackson drops the electronics back onto the desk and bolts over. He rips the dog out of Mark's grasp and holds it close. The tears still build up in his eyes. He blinks rapidly, but that only makes them fall. Mark leans forward and Jackson stumbles backwards.

"No! You said my laptop!"

He can see the flames. Smell the rancid burning of the little stuffing inside of the tiger.

Jackson sniffles, clinging onto his comfort plushie for dear life. "You said my laptop. A…and my tablet! You can't take him too."

"Jackson." Jackson shakes his head, squeezing his eyes tight. There's footsteps shuffling closer. "Jack, buddy."

Something strong wraps around him. Jackson's guided a bit and then pulled down. He thinks he's sitting on Mark's knee. A hand rubs up and down his back. Jackson lets out a shaky breath as he tucks his chin into Hank's head.

"Ducky," Mark whispers. "I'm not going to take Hank."

Jackson hesitantly opens his eyes. "You're not?"

Mark's face is a mix of worry and confusion. "I was just picking him up to make sure you hadn't gotten sick on him."

Jackson frowns. "Oh."

"Why would you think I would take him away from you?"

Jackson shrugs. Mark shakes his head.

"Talk to me."

"I…can't."

"You can tell me anything." Mark wipes a tear with his thumb. "We just talked about honesty."

"It's too hard."

Mark tilts his head. "A bad memory?"

"Camp," Jackson whispers. He feels Mark tense up. Jackson doesn't want to talk about it. He really, really doesn't want to. But, he also knows Mark won't let up. "They burned another stuffed animal I had." His throat catches. "The only one I had left from my dad."

Mark snuggles him closer. His body has shifted now, every muscle tense and filled with anxiety. Jackson wipes at his eyes. He doesn't want to cry. He doesn't want to think about it.

"That will never , ever happen here," Mark whispers, his voice firm. "You may get in trouble or have things taken away, but I will never take away things that bring you comfort. And I will never, ever destroy your property."

Jackson nods. "I know that," he whispers. "I don't know why I freaked out."

"That place did a number on you."

"Don't like to think about it."

"It's okay to talk about it. Who knows, it may help."

Jackson goes quiet. It's enough that he just exploded over his stuffed animal while in an adult space. He doesn't want to talk about it anymore.

Mark rocks him a bit. "Just know there's nothing you can't tell me."

"I know," Jackson whispers. "Just…not now, okay?"

Or ever.

Mark nods. "Okay." He kisses his forehead. "I'm sorry that happened to you, Ducky. You didn't deserve it."

Jackson isn't sure what he belives. He nods in interest of ending the conversation. Mark clearly picks up on the hint and rocks him silently for a few minute. Jackson's tears dry completely and he's left with his pounding headache and upset stomach.

Eventually, Mark adjusts him so they're looking eye to eye. "I was going to put this off but given the past half hour, I think we need to discuss something."

Jackson raises a brow. "Oh?"

"Derek's on to us." Jackson's mouth drops open. "I didn't say anything, I swear. I think he just got suspicious given how I collected you from the bar and the way you were clinging to me. He texted asking if you were a Little."

"What did you say?"

"I didn't answer. And I won't, until I know what you want. But the truth is, it's Derek. He's not going to let this go."

"Do you think he's told anyone?"

"No. That's not who he is."

Jackson has to admit of all the gossip he hears at the hospital, none of it comes from Derek. He can keep a secret.

It was enough for Mark to know, but now it's opening up. He knew it'd happen eventually. Just not a few weeks after this all began.

What could Mark possibly say to get him off his back?

"Do you think he'd let it go?"

Mark shrugs. "For now. But in time, I feel he's just going to keep asking." Jackson bites his lip. "I can tell him no, if that's what you want."

"We just had a whole conversation about lies," Jackson points out. "I can't ask you to lie to him."

"I have before."

"Yeah, and look where that landed you."

"I'm not going to do anything that makes you uncomfortable."

Mark is willing to lie to his best friend for him. He's known Derek far longer. Why in the world does he care so much?

"He and Meredith can know," he whispers. "Not Alex."

"That's fair." Mark bounces him. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"There's no choice. I kind of have to rip the bandaid off. I trust Mer and Derek."

Mark nods. "They're good people, buddy."

"I know. Thanks, by the way. For asking me first."

"I told you, Ducky, you come first." Mark kisses his cheek. "Now, let's get that liquid IV in you."

Jackson gets off Mark's lap. He one hand in his, the other clinging onto his puppy.