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"I think about you. But I don't say it anymore." Marguerite Duras, Hiroshima Mon Amour

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V.

Adam felt badly for not appearing more polite when being received by the servants, but he was quite certain Jack was on the verge of fainting. He had been sick in his chamber pot only moments before. He threw up nothing but whiskey, and Adam was certain his stomach was the better for it.

Once the servants had dispersed, Adam brought his brother back upstairs to what had been Jack's childhood bedroom. It was still quite how he left it, with shelves and shelves of books lining nearly every wall. Jack loved to read, and when he wasn't getting himself into trouble, he often became quite the moody reader.

Adam saw his brother into bed, lying him on his side to ensure that he did not choke on his own sick should he vomit again. He brought the chamber pot and its liquid contents over to the side of the bed next to Jack, holding his breath as he did so.

Jack was asleep in seconds, exhaustion overcoming him, and gentle snores began to escape his mouth. Adam did feel keenly for Jack, equal to the amount that his brother frustrated him.

Jack was the insurance, the spare son in case anything ever happened to Adam. His parents had treated him as such for so long that Jack had cottoned on eventually. He was always second best, and Adam often felt immense guilt because of it. Adam was meant to be the gentleman, the heir, and Jack was to wait in the wings, just in case. Second sons were bound for the church or the military as they would have no money of their own.

When Jack grew old enough to understand his options, his position in life, and their parents' views, he rebelled, as any headstrong teenager would do. Adam and Jack were very similar in that respect. They both thought with their hearts and not their heads. They often made decisions based on feeling rather than sense.

But Adam never pushed the boundaries as much as Jack did. Jack drank, he got into fights, he spent his nights occupied by countless women, and it had come to a head last night when he had found himself arrested. Adam had pieces of the story, but it seemed Jack had been in a compromising position with a pair of sisters, and they were discovered by one of their husbands. A fight had ensued, and a great deal of damage had been caused.

Adam knew that his parents would throw money at the problem, but he quietly hoped that a return to their childhood home would be good for Jack to find some purpose. He had a good education, a clever head on his shoulders, and he was a decent man when sober. Adam hoped he might even find a nice, respectable girl to help him settle down.

Adam left Jack's bedroom door open. He wanted to hear if he spluttered or threw up again. He thought about ringing for Mrs Hayes, but then decided against it. Mrs Hayes was the housekeeper now, and not their nanny. It was not her responsibility to keep Jack alive anymore.

Angrily, Adam cursed his mother. Cecily had never been the type of mother to sit at her child's bedside and worry.

Adam's bedroom was next to Jack's, and he purposefully left his own door open as well. His trunk had been brought up by the footmen, who had placed it beside the old one at the end of his bed.

Like Jack's, his own bedroom had not changed either. The bed, the tables, the lamps, the desk, the sofas ... it was all exactly how he remembered it, and he felt a sense of peace in returning. He went to his childhood trunk and opened both of the latches, lifting the lid up.

Nostalgia filled him as his eyes settled on his tin soldiers, his train set, his jacks, his chess set – what was that?

Adam's eyes found a piece of paper tucked down the back, and the moment he saw it, he remembered exactly what it was, and the exact moment he had put it there. He pulled it out and unfolded it, viewing the marriage certificate that Jack had forged, spelling mistakes and all, and he and Grace had excitedly signed all those years ago.

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