It made no sense. How in the nine hells did Jack Spicer know his favorite dessert? Chase was pacing in his usual sparring room, his warriors watching restlessly. His birthday, sure. The young man had been borderline stalker-ish in his youth, had probably figured it out via some method of backdating or whatever technology he had but this? The only way he would know this particular detail was if…

Chase stopped. "Does…Spicer remember?" He murmured, staring hard at the floor as if it held the answer. But he knew the only way to know for certain, was if he were to allow himself to remember the alternate timeline. The timeline where he hadn't taken Hannibal's deal. With a growl, Chase smoothly sat down and fell into a meditation position. If he was going to do this, he may as well do it right.

The memories were muddled at first. A haze of growing older and fighting off the monster that Guan had turned into. Then being back in a more modern age, still a bit hazy as he filtered through coming back to the Xiaolin Temple, training the monks, a showdown… There!

A gangly white youth with fiery red hair, only this time there was no star-struck introduction. Jack Spicer was just as annoying and full of himself, but the desire to impress Chase was not there. In this timeline, he sung the praises of Hannibal left and right. Until, of course, he was dumped by Wuya for the evil legume. Hannibal's rise to power in this universe was swift, and the monks took in Jack when he was left with nowhere else to go.

Good Chase had had far more patience with the boy than anyone else, not the warriors-in-training, or even the elder monks. He'd seen firsthand the albino youth's talent for engineering, and rather than teach him to fight, directed him to put his mind to work instead. Those looks that Chase knew so well, the glances to see if he was looking, if he was impressed, started to sneak into Jack's mannerisms. These were far more subtle and restrained, usually hidden under the guise of false positivity in an effort to keep morale up among everyone else.

Chase kept his expression blank as he stepped into the small hut that served as the temple's medical facility. Inside, Clay sat on a table while making lighthearted jokes to Jack Spicer. His blue eyes were decidedly pointed away from his own arm, which had a gash that was currently being sewn shut by the other youth. Jack's hand were quick and steady, keeping up with conversation while making quick work of the stitches. Once he'd finished, he placed a sterile bandage over the wound.

"There you go, Clay. Try not to wrestle with anyone or anything for a few days until the salve has a chance to seal you up." Jack said with a smile, peeling the blood-stained gloves from his hands. Clay tipped his hat to Chase as he walked out.

"Was the battle that bad?" Chase asked, walking toward the redhead. Jack shook his head, continuing to clean up.

"Clay busted his arm open on a broken fence post in the pigpen. Rai and Omi are fixing it while I stitched him up." He tucked a strand of hair that'd escaped his ponytail back behind his ear. Jack's hair had gotten quite long since he'd started living with them.

"I see. You've become quite an expert medic, Jack." The praise was genuine as he moved to assist him in his cleanup. The glance Jack gave him didn't escape his notice, nor did the faint pink across his cheeks. "What is your next task?"

"Oh, uh, I need to go to the garden. There's a few things ready for harvest, so I was going to do that before starting dinner."

"I'll accompany you."

They walked in a comfortable silence, going through the motions of picking produce from the hydroponic garden Jack had put together a year or so ago now. Chase was glad he had persuaded the monks to let the boy join them, his inventions had made life a little easier for them now that Hannibal was ravaging the land.

"I hope the strawberries should be done soon," Jack said as he plucked a few tomatoes, "Kimiko's birthday is coming up, and I know she likes them." It was just small talk, a nervous energy to fill the silence.

Chase didn't mind, picking up a heavy basket of potatoes. "It is very kind of you to make the effort to create treats for everyone."

"Well, the world is shit right now…we could all use some levity. Dessert is becoming a rarer thing, so…" The albino teen shrugged, glancing up. "What about you? What's your favorite dessert, Chase?"

The warrior blinked, golden eyes trained on the youth. "Hmm…I'd have to say, probably mantou." Jack's face made Chase chuckle, a light and almost musical sound. "Why so surprised?"

"I don't know, I guess I just…expected something different? Like, Dragon's Beard or something."

"Dragon's Beard is nice, but no…mantou is special to me."

Jack stood, leaving his basket on the ground, "Why?"

Chase's smile turned a bit sad and for moment, Jack felt he'd pressed too far. But before he could retract his question, the kind monk was speaking. "My mother used to make it, for my birthday or whenever I felt sad. So, I suppose that is why…"

Jack walked over and wrapped his arms around Chase. The man tensed but it eased quickly, relaxing into the comforting embrace the teen offered. Dropping his basket, not minding the produce that fell out, he wound his own arms around the youth. Jack's face was pressed against his chest, and Chase rested his chin atop the soft red hair that smelled of metal and homemade sunflower shampoo.

They remained like that for a while, giving one another comfort. Two orphans in a cruel world.

They'd finished their chores, Jack had made a splendid dinner, and everyone else had gone to bed. But the little genius was still awake, sitting on the roof of the temple. That's where Chase found him, staring out toward the fires that made up the Land of Nowhere, its borders expanding like a plague every day.

"Jack. You need your rest." Chase landed so softly from his jump, as if he had simply floated to the roof. The redhead curled tighter into himself, tearing his eyes away from the carnage in the distance. All that positivity, that happy-go-lucky smile the monks always saw was nowhere to be found on Jack Spicer's face. Chase was the only one who ever saw this, he knew. "Come Jack…"

Jack took the hand offered to him, allowed himself to be pulled up and brought down off the roof. He allowed Chase to lead him to his room and sit him down on his bedroll. Jack pulled his knees up to his chest, looking so tired, suddenly looking so much older than sixteen.

"Chase?" The warrior was kneeling beside him and made a noise in his throat. "Could…you braid my hair? It…keeps getting tangled."

Chase nodded, picking up a comb and settling himself behind the youth. He felt Jack relax under his hands as brushed out the long strands of sunset red before collecting it in his hands. Deep down, Chase knew how Jack felt toward him. The admiration had evolved into a crush the longer than worked on the same side. And, though he didn't want to admit it, he was starting to feel a similar stirring.

As his hands twined Jack's hair together, Chase felt a pull in his chest. A desire to hold this oddly colored teen, to protect him. There were carnal urges lurking beneath the surface, ones he had long since learned to repress. And repress them, he would. Jack was young and had his whole life ahead of him. Chase would fight for him to have the opportunity to find love because this… Chase wasn't right for this beautiful creature. Jack was merely attracted to him due to the circumstances at hand, he was sure of it.

"There we are." He stood, stepping around Jack and offering a kind smile. "Try to get some sleep."

Jack looked at him, too tired to mask the look of longing and quiet disappointment at Chase's departure. He didn't argue, however. He simply draped the fine braid over his shoulder and nodded.

"Good night, Chase."

"Good night, Jack." The lights were turned out, both men none the wiser as a little yellow monk snuck off with the Sands of Time.

Chase opened his eyes, pulling out of the memories of his alternate self. He remained perfectly still as his mind settled, coming back to his senses. His good-self had indeed told Spicer such information, which meant Jack did have the memories of his alternate self as well.

Not only that, but those…feelings. Chase stood, tucking his hands neatly behind his back. He'd held back from a carnal relationship with Jack Spicer due, in part, to the monk lifestyle of celibacy. But the fact that his good-self had believed Jack was merely attracted to him out of convenience? Preposterous.

"Perhaps…I need to explore this opportunity further…"