Moonlight

A/N: This oneshot can be read separately or sequentially to my other Jackunzel oneshot called 'Raindrops'. Enjoy!

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because no!"

"What kind of answer is that?"

"Punzie, we've already talked about this before."

"I know, but that was months ago!"

"And I still haven't changed my mind."

"Jack—Where are you going? Get back here! You can't just—Jack!"

Rapunzel narrowed her eyes as he sighed heavily and paused in the doorway, his back to her. The moonlight danced across his bare skin and contoured his shoulders and spine. She watched the silent rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed and waited for him to turn around.

She should have waited to bring up the subject, but she honestly didn't know when the appropriate time would have been. Christmas holidays were coming up in a couple of weeks and she thought that would be the best time for him to go back home. She could understand his reluctance. He'd told her all about it the very first time they'd spoken with each other. But after nearly six years, his family had the right to know of his wellbeing. He needed to do this. Not only for his family, but for himself.

"I'm sorry, I brought it up," she said. "But we have to talk about it."

He turned around abruptly. "Why?"

Because it's been almost six years since you last spoke to them! Six years since they last knew you were even alive, she wanted to scream at him. Instead she said, "Because they're your family."

Jack ran a hand through his already messy hair and shook his head. "I just…I need some water." And like a ghost he was gone.

Rapunzel sighed heavily and flopped back onto her pillow, rubbing her eyes tiredly. What was she going to do with him? She couldn't force him to do something that he didn't want to do, but she felt it was something he needed to do. He needed to see his family. He needed them to tell him that Flee hadn't been his fault. He needed them. Even if he didn't realize that yet.

She looked over at the clock on the bedside table. It was just after eleven. She winced guiltily, when she realized Jack would have to get up early to go to the shop. But they needed to have this conversation. They needed to get it over with. She pulled the sheets back and her skin prickled at the slight chill of the night. She grabbed Jack's blue sweatshirt off the floor and tugged it on over her camisole. The floor creaked beneath her feet as she felt her way through the dark hallway to the dark living room. The moonlight and streetlights outlined the furniture and she could see Jack leaning against the counter in their small kitchen.

"You're not drinking water, are you?" She said, knowing fully well he was drinking something else, and walked around the breakfast bar, the only thing dividing the kitchen from the main room.

"No," he said. His voice was soft, almost apologetic.

The tile was cold underneath her bare feet as she walked over to him. She couldn't see his expression, only his hunched silhouette. She reached out slowly and felt down his arms to the glass in his hand. He let her take it and she placed it on the counter. Dragging her hands back up his arms, over his shoulders, she cupped his face and pulled him down to her. She kissed him softly.

He kissed her back yet she could feel his reluctance and she knew why, but she just needed to show him she was there for him. Actions tended to speak louder than words and she had realized quite soon in knowing Jack that with him this was one hundred percent the case. He wasn't really good with words when it came to his inner, most private thoughts. She supposed he was out of practice after closing himself off from so many people for so many years. In the beginning, he had tried to brush off her questions about his feelings and troubles with an easy smile, but Rapunzel could be stubborn too and she didn't let up. She didn't give up. Not on him.

On their first night in the Snuggly Duckling, she had told him that he didn't need to pretend with her and she had meant every word of it. With time he had come to realize it too and slowly began confiding in her. She knew he didn't like sharing his feelings and she understood that he just wasn't accustomed to it, so she stayed patient with him. When he said, "Never mind. Just forget it", she didn't. When he said, "Let's just talk about it later", she refused. And the few times he actually lost his temper on the matter, she tried not to take it personally although sometimes she couldn't help but scream back at him. He could be unbelievably difficult and anger her to no end and she supposed the feeling was mutual, but they always found their way back to each other in the end and the apologies were always so incredibly satisfying that she sometimes thought the arguments were completely worth it.

He took her forearms and pulled her hands away from his face. As an apology he kissed her forehead gently before he slid around her. He left his glass in the kitchen and without a second thought she poured it out. She heard the window open in the living room and she knew he'd climbed out onto the fire escape, probably going up to the roof. Without even looking outside, Rapunzel knew it was a cloudless night and the moon would be big and bright and the sky would be dotted with a few stars, though they'd most likely just be helicopters. Jack often went up to the roof on nights like these and more often than not she joined him.

Jack felt an odd sense of connection with the moon. The way he stared up at it made her think he were having a conversation with it. He'd described it once as his only companion in the darkness. It's soft shimmering glow had held another purpose for him. It had given him a direction in what would otherwise be a void of impenetrable darkness. He had looked away from her embarrassed, but she'd taken his hand and told him now he had two companions.

But he was running away from her right now and a part of her just wanted to leave him be. It was late and the subject they were prodding on was touchy to say the least, but deep down she knew it wouldn't solve anything. Leaving him alone with his thoughts now would be destructive.

Rapunzel grabbed the quilt off the couch and wrapped it around herself before she stepped out. She was surprised to see him sitting on the steps. He wasn't looking up though. He was hunched forward, elbows on his knees, fingers flexing in agitation.

If you saw Jack on the street, you'd probably stare for a moment too long. He had an easy way of moving and carrying himself, light and agile almost like he were floating on air. He had a confident yet easy-going nature, a charmingly boyish grin and flirtatiously mischievous eyes. And Rapunzel was fully aware that he was stronger than his wiry frame had one believe. But there, in the shine of the moonlight, something about him looked a bit like shattered glass.

It wasn't a side he showed often and certainly not to just anyone. He was guarded and somehow Rapunzel had managed to slip through the cracks in the walls he'd built. He was protective and sturdy, but there was a gentleness to him that just melted her heart, like when he'd kiss her awake in the morning or slow dance with her in the living room at midnight or when they'd visited the pet store that one time and he'd convinced her they should not only get a chameleon but also the fluffy, grey bunny sitting in the window.

Rapunzel settled herself on the windowsill and waited for him to break the silence. They were both barefoot and Jack shirtless, but she knew he didn't mind the chill of the night. He preferred it actually. She'd wondered for a long time why he had stayed in Corona for so long, considering he preferred the cold. He could have gone further north. He could have found himself a life in Canada, where it got so cold they made popsicles by pouring maple syrup in the snow and letting it freeze. But he had chosen the heat.

She had asked him about it early on in their friendship and when he told her the reason, she realized just how fractured he really was. That evening in the diner had given her a glimpse of it, but as their friendship grew stronger and she got to know him better, she became aware that he was being held together by safety pins and duct tape. Lots and lots of duct tape. His emotional wounds hadn't healed properly, because he hadn't let them. It was like putting a bandaid on a broken arm and then still continuing to use the arm. He had pushed down the pain until it was nothing more than a throb at the back of his mind, neglected yet constant.

The reason he had chosen the heat over the cold is because he knew it was impossible for it to snow in Corona. The snow and ice reminded him of Flee and of everything he did wrong and he didn't know if he could actually handle seeing it, touching it, feeling it on his skin. He was completely traumatized, shattered.

But everyone was broken in some way or another and Rapunzel truly believed everything could be mended. She had taken it upon herself early on to help him heal. Whatever it took.

Falling in love with Jack hadn't been a part of the plan, but it had happened anyway. She had found herself wanting to see him daily and missing him only hours after they'd seen each other. She remembered thinking that it probably wasn't a good idea and that it might do more damage than good, because she was his self-proclaimed shrink—not that she'd ever told him that, although she was pretty sure he'd thought the same—so patient-doctor relationships were technically off limits.

But next to their long conversations about personal issues, they also spoke of their dreams and aspirations, of their theories of the universe and seemingly trite subjects, like which ice cream flavor combination was the best—which took them an hour to agree to disagree, Jack staying true to mint chocolate chip and dark chocolate, and Rapunzel set on mango and raspberry sorbet, whereupon Jack had argued that that wasn't technically ice cream and on and on it had escalated until a stranger sitting on a nearby bench in the park had kindly told them to shut up.

She also remembered the way he would playfully pinch her nose or wrap his arm around her shoulder when they walked or graze her arm with his cool fingertips. She remembered the way he'd look at her, gaze flitting between her eyes and her lips, smile soft and sincere. She remembered on the 4th of July when they'd snuck onto a ferry to watch the fireworks from the bay and he had lain on the bench with his head in her lap, seemingly watching the sky, but a part of her had known he'd been mostly watching her.

He'd kissed her for the first time that night. It had been after he'd walked her home. They'd been standing in front of her apartment building, talking, laughing, leaning on each other in a slightly tipsy state. He had tucked a flyaway hair behind her ear, calloused fingers sliding around to the back of her neck. His nose had brushed against hers and then he'd hesitated, asking her if he could. Her eyes had already fallen closed and she could only nod as words had failed her. At first, his lips had been timid and feather light against hers, kissing her like she'd shatter in his grasp. In truth she hadn't been sure she wouldn't. But him tilting her head back, and her parting her lips under his, and him pressing closer and deeper, had transformed the little butterflies fluttering in her stomach into a pool of white heat and she hadn't wanted it to stop. The next morning had been the first of many where aches would stretch through her muscles in the most intoxicating way and that contradicting smile—charming and naughty and shy all at once—would be the first thing to greet her.

"What are you thinking about?"

His voice, deep and a little uncertain, brought Rapunzel out of her mind and back to reality. The moonlight cast half his face in shadows, but she could still make out the expression of trepidation.

She snuggled deeper into the quilt and sweatshirt, his scent faintly coming off the fabric. "The 4th of July."

His expression softened and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and she got a sudden urge to kiss him again, but this time she was certain he wouldn't resist especially with that memory in his head and then they wouldn't be talking about what needed to be talked about.

"I remember," he said softly.

She watched his gaze shift from her to the flower boxes hanging on the railing. Rapunzel had hung them up the very week he'd asked her to move in with him. The question had surprised her, but he'd been so sure of it. Most people would say they'd moved fast and maybe they had, but it had felt right. She wasn't going to lie, buying the house pets was maybe a bit much, but they'd been overly reckless that day, doing everything and anything that came to mind just for the heck of it, including eating tacos for breakfast and cereal for dinner, dancing in front of street musicians, feeding apples to the horses that pulled tourists around on carriages, and doing handstands on the edge of the pier until someone tipped the other way and fell into the water. He'd fallen first.

Jack pushed on his knees and stood up slowly, though Rapunzel wasn't sure if it was physical or mental fatigue. She watched as he plucked a red Dahlia from the nearest arrangement.

Rapunzel looked down and tried to hide her smile from him. She wasn't sure if he was trying to distract her or if he was just being sweet, but either way it was getting to her. It was always the little things too. Like how he let her wear his clothes and never said a thing, even though he'd probably be happier if he didn't need to constantly look for his shirts. Or how he'd run down to the store quickly to get lemons, because he knew she liked it with her tea. Or how he'd surprise her at work on his day off and they'd have lunch.

The first time he'd shown up to take her to lunch had truly been a show. She'd recently gotten a new job at the University of Corona as an assistant librarian. The pay was much better than what she'd earned at the diner and they also gave her the opportunity to frequent one of the many courses the university offered. Rapunzel had seized the opportunity and was taking a night class in psychology every Tuesday night. She thought it was a good start to expand her education and maybe with some sort of degree she could get a better job. The subject choice also had loads to do with Jack, but she had never told him that, though she suspected he knew.

Bearing flowers, he'd entered the library like some kind of Casanova in the presence of three college girls, whom he had apparently asked for directions. Students had stopped what they were doing to look over and partly glare at the loud intruders and the group of four had immediately quieted down, girls giggling, Jack laughing sheepishly. When he'd spotted Rapunzel at the check-out desk—her expression a mixture of surprise and embarrassment, because she'd soon be the middle of attention—his eyes lost the guilty expression, which had been comparable to a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar, and a mischievous sorry-not-sorry glint replaced it.

He'd strode over to her, leaving the girls at the door, but Rapunzel had noticed them pulling out their phones, presumably to film this #couplegoals moment.

"Hey, Punzie," he'd said in a tone only she could hear unless you were straining to hear, which everyone in the library had been doing. The bouquet in his hands had been an arrangement of purple rampion bellflowers. Clever.

It had been hard to keep up the slightly annoyed facade, but she had crossed her arms and, glancing over at the girls who had slowly made their way closer, said, "So, you're into smart girls."

"Nah," he'd said nonchalantly and grinned. "I like dumb blondes with artistic obsessions."

She'd laughed, kissed him, and told him to never do it again, but he wasn't much for following orders, though he had left the girls with cell phones and the flowers behind the next few times.

A Dahlia, almost black in the darkness of his shadow, twirled beneath her nose.

"I'm sorry," he murmured and she knew he meant, like he always did.

She took the flower from him and looked up. "I know."

He didn't look relieved. His eyes still glittered with uncertainty and fear that maybe he was pushing her too far away. Maybe she wouldn't come back to him this time. Maybe he didn't deserve her. She didn't know how many times he'd said that. He threw the phrase around carelessly, but she wondered if a part of him really believed it. He'd laugh and say, "I don't deserve you" when she tolerated another one of his stupidities or he'd bury his face in her neck and whisper, "I don't deserve you" when she helped him through something too difficult for him to handle on his own.

She tucked the flower behind her ear.

"I'm just," he began and his breath rushed out as he raised his arms and clasped his hand behind his head. "I don't know how else to tell you…or what else to tell you except that I'm just not ready for this."

"I know you feel that way," Rapunzel said and stood up so she would be level with him. Well, almost. He still was nearly a head taller. "But if you don't do this now, you never will," she warned him, her tone beyond serious.

"Just as well," he muttered and lowered his arms back to his sides.

She sighed and said his name softly, willing him to listen to her. "Stop running from this."

"I'm n—"

"Jack," she repeated his name, louder this time, and he fixed her with an intent stare. "You are."

His eyes, usually a warm, golden brown, flashed an icy blue. It took her a moment to realize it was just the moon reflecting in his irises.

"I'm not judging," she said softly and reached out for his hand. "I was a runaway too. I know what it's like. You know that I do."

His gaze dropped from hers and his shoulders fell forward.

"But I've stopped running. And you need to too."

A deep crease formed on his forehead and his jaw twitched. He met her gaze again, dissent in his expression.

"You haven't, Punzie," he murmured and pulled his hand from hers.

She was taken aback by the accusation. "What?"

His laugh was bitter. "Don't kid yourself. I'm not the only one still running."

Rapunzel opened her mouth to reply, but she couldn't find words. She was completely baffled. "Wh—what are you even talking about?"

He shook his head and turned away from her, muttering, "Forget it."

Rapunzel scowled. "Are you kidding me? We're not just going to forget this."

He didn't say anything.

"Jack," she urged.

"Drop it, Rapunzel!" He nearly yelled, spinning around.

She took a step back. He rarely used her real name. Only when he was teasing her with 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair' or when he was furious with her.

"No." Her voice was firm, unwavering. "What did you mean?"

His eyes were narrowed at her, but he couldn't stare her down. His jaw shifted and he eventually shook his head, sighing irritably. "Why is it that it's always my crap we're dealing with?"

"Because you're the one with crap that needs dealing with," she said without missing a beat. "I made peace with my past. It's time you did too."

His smile was tight and almost taunting. "I hardly call what you did, making peace."

Her heart was beating faster and faster and blood was rushing in her ears. "I'm not running from anything."

"So, why haven't you gone back to see your mom?"

The question hit her like a truck. Jack must have sensed it too, because his expression softened a fraction and he took a step back.

They didn't speak of her mother often. Rapunzel hardly thought about her, but some things inexplicably reminded her of her youth in that house in the woods—neglected, abused and isolated.

Yes, she'd gone to school, but she'd been written off as some kind of freak days after arrival. Firstly, her name. Who names a kid after a children's fairytale anyway? Secondly, her clothes, either self-made, old or a bit oversized. Thirdly, hanging out with people after school had been prohibited by her controlling mother, which had left Rapunzel with only a few friends and acquaintances and none of them close. Fourthly, she'd been a bit of goody-two-shoes, because she hadn't wanted her mother to pull her out of school. She'd also loved learning, always sat in the front, usually got good grades and because of that had been designated the name 'not-so-dumb-blonde'—props to whomever had come up with that. She'd been athletic, good at running and climbing yet she hadn't been allowed to join school sports or any other club for that matter and she'd found writing about herself on the bathroom stalls saying she was anorexic. But how could she have been anything else but thin, when she'd had to bike five miles to and from school everyday and all her image-obsessed mother had bought to eat was organic food?

Neglected, abused, isolated.

She'd found joy in painting and reading and learning, but her positive aura had slowly been diminishing. And when Eugene had shown up, like some knight in shining armor, she'd taken her chance and ran.

Rapunzel didn't want to go back. What if Mother didn't let her leave again?

She swallowed with difficulty. "You know why." It came out weak.

This was not the way things were supposed to go. This wasn't supposed to lead to a fight. And this was a bad subject to fight about.

"Because you're scared of her," he said. It wasn't malicious or derogatory. It was a fact.

She blinked and pulled the quilt tighter around her shoulder.

"That's not moving on, Punzie," he said and reached out to wipe the stray tear, but she knocked his arm away.

"This isn't about me," she said angrily and was glad her voice sounded steady.

"Right, right. Always about me," he grumbled.

"Well, I'm not the one waking up in the middle of the night screaming."

Jack visibly winced and Rapunzel hated herself for throwing that in his face.

"You know I don't believe it when you say, it was just a nightmare and it doesn't happen often."

He didn't reply. He turned his back on her, bracing himself against the railing, shoulders tense, muscles taut beneath his skin. From her angle, she could see his jaw flexing.

Rapunzel hesitated, before moving next to him. The sweet scent of the Dahlias reached her nose along with city fumes and the sugary smell of baking from their downstairs neighbor, Attila, who owned his own bakery on Queens Street and often cooked up a storm in the middle of the night when the inspiration hit.

The first time she had met the man was late one night in early May. She and Jack had been enjoying the starry night out on the stairwell, when they'd heard a scream of rage and the clang of metal on tile from the downstairs window. They'd shared confused and slightly alarmed glances, before looking down again and seeing about half a dozen cupcakes thrown out the window. They'd fallen into hysterics and then Rapunzel had convinced Jack that they should go down and say hello. It had been roughly ten o'clock at night and when they'd finally made their way back up to Jack's apartment the digital clock on the oven had proved it to be after four in the morning.

Attila, a burly man with muscly arms and a round beer belly, had greeted them harshly at first and then had invited them in for tea—yes, tea. He had explained to them that he was on the verge of a monumentally delicious masterpiece, all he needed was the missing ingredient for the perfect May cupcake. It had sounded absurd, but Rapunzel and Jack had happily helped him with the job, because 1) they were given the batches Attila had found unsatisfactory—the pair found them delicious nonetheless—and 2) Attila was amusing company whether he was swearing obscenities, cracking lame jokes or telling them about his childhood and baking mishaps, like nearly melting the oven or catching the drapes on fire with a Brulee Torch. They'd all rejoiced when the missing ingredient had finally revealed itself to be honey and Rapunzel and Jack had trudged tiredly back up the fire escape to his apartment where they both had collapsed on the couch and fallen asleep only moments later.

"Well, what exactly do you expect me to say?" Jack asked suddenly. He sounded tired.

"I just don't want you to lie to me," she said quietly and leaned her forearms on the iron railing. She felt the quilt slip off her shoulder. "I don't want you to act like this stuff isn't bothering you, because I know it is and I want to help you."

"I know," he said and adjusted the quilt back so it covered her small frame. "I know, you're just trying to help, but what's not helping is badgering me about something I don't want to do, when you won't even face up to what you're hiding from."

Rapunzel glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He had straightened up, his chest rising and falling steadily.

"I mean, how do you know going back is really going to help me?" He looked up towards the sky and scratched the back of his neck. "What if…What if they don't even want me to come back?"

Rapunzel took a deep breath and pushed off the railing and went to sit on the steps, saying, "You're their son, Jack. They already lost a child. They don't need you to be gone forever too." It came out almost a whisper.

Rapunzel knew Jack's greatest fear was going home and not being welcome. He was scared his parents would turn him away, scared they would outright blame him for the death of his sister, just like he did. But everyone could point fingers and lay blame to whomever. It had been an accident and Jack had slowly, very slowly, started accepting that there had been other factors involved. She knew that he knew deep down there'd been no way for him to know what could happen. But she also knew that a part of him would still always blame himself for it. For not checking the ice first. For not moving faster. And there was nothing anyone could do about that. That grief and guilt was something he was going to have to live with, but he didn't need to carry it alone.

"You need to go back to Burgess," she said, looking up at him. "You need to find closure with what happened."

He didn't say anything and she thought that was fine, because it meant he was listening to what she was saying.

Rapunzel pulled the quilt tighter around herself. The air was getting chillier the later it got. Her toes were numb, but she didn't want to go inside, didn't want to leave him. She'd always wondered how he was able to sustain the cold so effortlessly. Looking at him now in nothing but flannel pajama pants, her expression almost turned amused. She'd shared her theories with him, saying he must be the reincarnation of Frosty the Snowman or Jack Frost, and he'd just grinned and nipped her nose.

She could feel the corners of her mouth turning up lightly at the memory. She leaned her shoulder against the railing and rested her forehead between two bars. The rooftops were currently splashed in a watery white-silver glow that illuminated the Victorian architecture and brickwork and sparkled against windows and satellite dishes. In the distance the skyscrapers were silhouetted against the deep velvety sky. Five stories below them, the streets of the inner city were cast in the garish yellow light of the street lamps. The sidewalks had a few stragglers milling around and the sushi shop across the street was still bustling with customers.

"You should go to bed. I know you have to wake up early tomorrow."

His voice brought her out of her trance. He was watching her restlessly and scratching at his elbow.

She sat up. "So, do you."

He shrugged, his fingers twitched.

"I don't want to fight with you, Jack," she began timidly, "but this conversation isn't over."

His perturbation was clear but he still nodded. "I know."

Rapunzel nodded her head slowly too and looked down. Her toes were poking out from beneath the quilt.

"But you do see my point, right?" He asked and moved over to the steps and leaned against the wall.

She looked over at him and arched an eyebrow. "Which one?"

The corner of his mouth twitched in something close to a grin.

Her eyes danced over his moon-washed skin, the ridges of his abdomen, the curves of his biceps, the sharp line of his jaw and that damned smile.

Jack had always been extremely good-looking and Rapunzel was positive that wasn't only her opinion. She saw the looks he got when they walked down the street or when he visited her at work. Young women, old women, even young girls would hesitate a fraction of a moment or actually stop in their tracks and stare at him long enough for it to be obvious and Rapunzel couldn't blame them. However, she knew Jack used his good looks to his advantage too. By just smiling at the cashiers at the super market, he'd get them to use their expired coupons or when they were getting coffee, Rapunzel would grab a table and Jack would meet her there with their drinks and also a free cake pop—which he'd always give her, but she wasn't lost on how he got it. Flirty, mischievous smiles were his specialty.

Yes, he'd always been good-looking, but the way she felt about him wasn't about that. It had always been about who he was; the good and the bad.

She tapped her fingers against her arm for a moment, before extending her hand out to him. He slowly pushed off the wall and let her pull him down to the steps. He draped an arm around her and she leaned into him, head on his shoulder. His cheek pressed against her hair and she cold feel his chest expand as he breathed.

"I see your point," she said quietly. "And you're right. I'm still terrified of her."

His breath caught for a moment and if they weren't so close, she wouldn't have noticed it.

"But the only way I know to get back at her for what she did to me is by not going back," she continued, bitterness washing over her like a wave. "By letting her be alone in that house in the woods. By letting her wonder about what happened to me."

He didn't reply right away and she guessed he was waiting to see if she had more to say. His hand trailed up and down her arm and his breath tickled the baby hairs on her forehead.

"You know revenge isn't the answer."

Rapunzel nodded, because she did. She was scared and spiteful. Those were her reasons for never going back.

"But in all honesty," he continued, "I think she deserves it. I don't want you going back there. I'm sorry I implied you should."

Rapunzel closed her eyes. Pressure was building. She swallowed with difficulty. "Stop apologizing."

He chuckled softly and she could feel the rumble against his chest.

"But don't you see the difference?" She asked after a moment and pulled away from him so she could face him. "My mother was a terrible person. Your parents weren't. They were caring and they loved you more than anything. They didn't drive you away." You did that yourself.

His expression is a mixture of exhaustion and grief.

"Why won't you let me help you with this?" Her voice came across more desperate than she wanted, but the later it got the less control she had over her emotions.

"It's not that simple," he murmured.

"Jack, I know everything about you. I probably know you better than you know yourself. Why can't you just trust me?" She nearly exclaimed. "Why can't you just believe that I know what's best for you?"

She had stood up by then, letting the quilt drop, and ran a hand through her hair, fisting a handful at the crown of her head.

"Punzie, I do trust you," he protested, but she could barely hear him.

Why couldn't he just listen to her, trust her, believe in her? She knew what she was talking about! Any friend, any stranger would agree with her that he needed to go back to see his family, so why couldn't he just do it? She could just scream at him!

She didn't realize she was muttering to herself, until she heard Jack trying to interrupt her.

"Punzie…ugh, Punzie?…Calm—Calm down…Punz, just—would you just—"

"What?"

She turned on him so abruptly it nearly sent him stumbling backwards.

It reminded her of that one time where she'd been in the kitchen, getting ready to start dinner. She'd thought she'd been alone in the apartment, but he'd managed to sneak in without her hearing. He'd stood in the entrance to the kitchen nook and had called her name, whereupon she'd nearly bashed his head in with a frying pan. Luckily there hadn't been anything in it when she's swung it around with a shriek.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish until he finally said, "You're gonna wake the neighbors."

Her breath rushed out in a huff and she placed a hand on her hip, staring at him incredulously.

"That's it," she said sternly and ignored the amused raise of his eyebrows. "We are going to settle this right now." She took the flower from behind her ear and plucked a crimson petal. She held it up in front of his face. "You go back before the year's up." She let it drop and plucked another one. "I will forget this topic until the year is up."

He rubbed his forehead, making his fringe stand up, and said in what sounded like amused exasperation, "You can't be serious."

"Dead serious," she replied. "It's the only way I'm gonna leave it alone."

He held her gaze, a humorous glint in his eyes. "You're cute when you're serious."

She bit her tongue to keep from smiling, but somehow it still managed to shine through.

He took a step forward and plucked a petal. "I go back."

She plucked a petal. "You go back not."

His eyebrows knit together when he focused on the flower. "This is gonna take awhile."

She plucked a petal for him. "You go back."

"I go back not," he said and let his petal fall to the stairwell.

"You go back."

"I go back not."

"You go back."

"Do you want your quilt?" He asked suddenly. "You're shivering."

Before she could even reply, he'd turned around and picked it up of the stairs. She watched him, eyes narrowed, as he wrapped it around her shoulders. She wasn't going to let him distract her. He was good at that, but she was adamant about this.

"It's your turn."

The corner of his mouth twitched as he plucked another petal. "I go back not."

"You go back."

"Do you want to sit down?"

"Jack!"

"What? It's an honest question."

"Stop trying to change the subject."

"I'm not," he said and laughed. "I'm just asking if you want to sit down."

"First it's the quilt, then it's sitting down, next it'll be getting something to drink and then going to the bathroom," Rapunzel argued in a comical voice and tilted her head from side to side with each example. "You're not going to distract me from this."

"Hm," he murmured in surprise. "You do know me well. Whose turn is it again?"

Yours! She nearly yelled at him, but she caught that mischievous smile just in time and took a deep breath. "It's your turn."

"Are you sure?"

"I will smack you."

"I go back not," he said with a grin and held the petal over her head, before letting it go.

"You're enjoying this too much," she muttered and brushed the petal off her head.

"Well, you make everything so enjoyable," he replied and she couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

And there it was again. That damned smile. She could count the dainty, near invisible freckles on his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Dark circles were starting to form under his eyes, but he didn't seem as tired anymore. Something like childlike mischief had sparked in his features and in all honesty Rapunzel was glad for it.

"It's your turn, Punz," he whispered and took a few steps back until he was sitting on the windowsill.

"You go back," she said and dropped another petal.

He reached out a hand, but she was standing too far away. He leaned his head against the window frame lazily. "C'mon, Punz. Help me out here."

She huffed through her nose in exasperation. He was impossible.

She stepped towards him, but instead of plucking another petal his fingers enclosed around her wrist and he pulled her to him.

"Jack," she murmured, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

She let him take the quilt off her shoulders as she half sat on his lap, half stood between his legs. He wrapped it around himself and engulfed her in his arms, pulling her to his chest.

"It's cold," he whispered and rested his chin on her shoulders.

It would be a lie if she said this wasn't affecting her. Her heart fluttered in her chest and her fatigue was starting to take a toll on her. His arms felt so nice around her waist and he smelled so good, like winter in summer even though that didn't make any sense at all.

Coming back to her senses, she realized it was his turn and, seeing as he didn't have any free hands, she plucked a petal for him.

"You go back not…You go back…You go back not…You go back…"

"You smell nice," he murmured suddenly into her shoulder.

She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled past her lips, because she has been thinking the same thing about him.

"Thank you."

"I have a question for you," he went on.

She could feel his arms shift around her waist.

"Why is it," he began slowly and goosebumps raced down her spine when he placed a light kiss on her jaw, "that you have a thing for damaged people?"

She turned abruptly, nearly knocking noses with him. "What?"

"You haven't noticed the pattern?"

Her mouth was parted, but she couldn't find any words.

She didn't have a thing for damaged people. She'd only ever been with two guys her entire life and they weren't damaged. Sure Eugene had had his fair share of issues and trouble had seemed to follow him wherever he went, but he wasn't damaged. He'd had a difficult childhood, being an orphan and all and learning to live on the streets certainly hadn't been easy for him. Stealing to survive wasn't a proper way to grow up and it's really no wonder as to why he turned out how he did and why he couldn't seem to shake that part of himself. But she wouldn't classify him as damaged.

And then there was Jack. He was a complex character and yet somehow she'd managed to figure him out. She knew everything about him, yet he still managed to surprise her. He was confident and could be cocky, but there was a vulnerability to him that only a choice few knew about. He'd run away from home at seventeen and has been running from his past every since. It was a terrible thing that had happened and it had affected him greatly, but he wasn't damaged.

Then again Rapunzel wouldn't really classify anyone as damaged. Most people would probably call her damaged if they knew her story.

"Why is it you have a thing for blondes?" She replied.

He'd told her about some of his past girlfriends, his high school girlfriend Elisa being the most significant of those few, and Rapunzel had also noticed a pattern in appearance. Blonde hair. Elisa had even had green eyes, but Rapunzel would describe them more as ivory (she'd looked her up over the internet and saw a few pictures).

He cracked a smile and looked away sheepishly. "I asked first."

"I don't have a thing for damaged people," she argued. "I have a thing for brunettes," she laughed and ran her fingers through his fringe. "Now you."

"Blondes have more fun."

"We do, don't we?" She replied and giggled softly as he laughed into her shoulder.

She realized the flower was still in her hand.

"Oh, would you look at that. You've managed to distract me," she sighed.

"How did that happen?" He deadpanned, his voice muffled by the sweatshirt.

She twirled the flower between her thumb and forefinger as an idea popped into her head and an impish smile played at her lips.

"Last petal," she lied. "You go back."

He immediately raised his head and peered over her shoulder. "What?"

When he realized she was kidding, he scoffed in mild annoyance. "Don't do that."

She giggled softly. "Sorry."

His little smile told her she was already forgiven.

He reached out and plucked a petal. "I go back not."

"You go back."

"I go back not."

"You go back."

"I go b—Oh, my God," he said very suddenly and tried to mask his alarm.

"What?" She asked, frowning inquisitively.

His eyes were trained on her other shoulder and he swallowed. "Pascale."

Rapunzel looked over onto her shoulder and saw the little reptile, camouflaged blue against the sweatshirt, snuggled next to the hood.

"Hey, Pascale," she cooed and reached out her free hand to gently pat his head with her index finger. "What are you doing out here?"

"You know he can't understand you."

"You don't know that," she chided.

Pascale was their chameleon. They'd bought him along with their little grey bunny, whom Jack had named E. Aster. Aster's cage was in the living room, but Pascale didn't have one. He had had one, but somehow he'd always managed to escape it and to this day neither Jack nor Rapunzel had any idea as to how he'd managed it. However, he'd never tried to escape the apartment. They'd always found him either in the fruit bowl or Aster's cage, which was always left open. They'd ended up selling Pascale's cage and designating an area of the living room to potted plants, including an assortment of mini trees for him to perch on if he so well pleased.

"Does he eat flowers?" Jack asked randomly.

Rapunzel paused for a moment. "I don't know," she admitted and plucked a petal. "You go back," she added, before holding the petal out for Pascale.

He slowly opened one eye and focused on the object dangling between her thumb and forefinger.

"Did he go for it?" Jack asked and tried to look over her shoulder.

"Not y—"

Pascale's little pink tongue flicked out and snatched up the petal. He seemed to contemplatively chew, before his skin turned crimson.

"I think he likes it," she hummed.

"Well, maybe you should ask him," Jack teased.

"Oof!" He gasped when she drove her elbow into his ribs.

Pascale chirped and Rapunzel was pretty sure he was expressing amusement.

"You're always so sweet, I forget you have a violent streak," Jack wheezed, followed by a laugh.

"Only for those who deserve it," she said, grinning to herself.

She wasn't a violent person. She tried to be patient and caring and basically everything her mother had never been. However, there were a few incidences where smacking someone with something seemed like the only way to get her point across.

She'd knocked Eugene out with a frying pan when he'd snuck into her home all those years ago. She'd hid him in the closet before her mother had come home and when she'd left again she'd tied him to a kitchen chair. She had ruthlessly interrogated and even blackmailed him into taking her to the city. They'd stopped at the Snuggly Duckling for lunch at one point (this had obviously been before she worked there) and Eugene had gotten into a tussle with some of the construction workers there, who were regulars at the diner. They'd recognized him on the news and had wanted to turn him in. There'd been screaming and pushing and pulling and Rapunzel's pleading yells had fallen on deaf ears. She'd eventually taken a broom she'd found in the corner and smacked one of them over the head with it, drawing all attention to her. And somehow she'd managed to convince them all to let Eugene go.

Maybe violence was the answer sometimes, she mused to herself.

"You go back not," she said and fed another petal to Pascale.

"I go back." Jack held the petal out for Pascale and the chameleon happily munched on it.

The little red creature hopped onto Jack's hand before he could pull it away. She felt his arm momentarily tense around her waist.

"Why does he stare at me like that?" Jack muttered and brought Pascale's face closer to his own.

"He's sizing you up," she giggled.

Jack hummed in agreement, not taking his eyes off Pascale.

Pascale's eyes were narrowed as the pair had a little stare off. Jack mimicked the chameleon's expression so adorably comical that something significant loosened in Rapunzel's chest. How did she end up here? After all that had happened to her, how did she get so lucky? Had it it just been coincidence that he'd entered the diner during her shift and they'd gotten to talking? Had it been fate? Destiny? Had all the stars aligned and brought them together?

Rapunzel believed that people came into your life for a reason. You learned from them and they learned from you. It was always uncertain for how long your lives would be intertwined, but everything that happened was significant. People made you laugh and cry. They made you ponder and realize things about yourself. They brought out the worst and the best in you. They could bring you to your knees or help you rise again stronger than before. You loved and hated them, blamed and forgave them.

She didn't know how much time she and Jack would have together. The universe was chaotic and provided an infinite number of destinies for everyone. Maybe they would stay on the same path, maybe a fork in the road would appear where they'd have to say their good-byes. No one could be certain what the future held. No one could be certain how much time they had or how much control they actually had over their own lives. All you could do was decide what to do with what was given to you, whether that be time or people or opportunity.

And Rapunzel had decided to not regret the past, to seize the day, to celebrate triumphs and learn from defeats, to love deeply and passionately and to accept herself for who she was, because life was too precious and too short to be wasted.

The flower in her hand had gotten visibly smaller.

"You go back not," she murmured and dropped another petal.

"I go back," Jack said and held out the little petal for Pascale.

Pascale's chirp was low and guttural as his eyes flickered from Jack's to the food he was offering him. He seemed to accept it as a peace offering, because he sat up straight and squeaked before his tongue snatched the petal.

"You go back not."

"I go back."

"You go back not."

And on it went, until there was one petal left. One dainty little petal clinging to the tip of the stem. The others they'd dropped, most of which falling through the grate of the stairwell and fluttering to the ground five stories below, or fed to Pascale, who remained red as a cherry.

Rapunzel sighed, defeated. "Fine. You win." She plucked the petal and let it drop. "You go back not."

She stood up and walked over to the railing, where she tossed the stem. That game had been a gamble and she'd lost this time, but she'd try to talk some sense into Jack after the New Year. She didn't give up that easily.

The moon shone down brightly onto the city and illuminated the sky, chasing away the darkness. Looking around at the buildings around them, she counted twelve windows where yellow light still shined through. She saw a man sitting at his desk, typing away furiously at a laptop. A plump woman was looking out into the night, a slice of chocolate cake in her hand. A man was smoking a cigarette. Curtains were drawn on most of the windows and Rapunzel could only see shadows drifting in and out of frame. Someone pacing, someone doing jumping jacks, a couple entangled, a man holding a baby over his head and spinning.

So many people. So many lives. So many destinies.

"So, why do you have a thing for brunettes?"

The question surprised her and she turned around to face him. The quilt was still around his shoulders and Pascale seemed to have run off somewhere. His expression was one of consideration and slight confusion. He was referring to an earlier part of their conversation, yet she knew he was implying something else. The underlying question was actually a bundle of question: Why do you have a thing for me? Why do you put up with me? Why why why?

She stepped forward until she was standing directly in front of him. "Because they're sweet," she murmured, leaning forward, and gently kissed his forehead, just under the mussed fall of his hair. She heard his breath rush out softly.

"And caring and honest." She ran a hand delicately through his hair and brought it around to his jaw. She could feel his light stubble under her finger tips. "And strong and confident and funny and spontaneous and everything I need them to be."

The moon reflected in his irises as he looked up at her. His apprehension slowly faded and something she couldn't quite pinpoint replaced it. His Adam's apple bobbed as his gaze fell from her eyes and she felt her heart flutter. His fingers enclosed around her wrist and his other hand took her arm. She let him pull her back onto his lap. He let go of her wrist and his hand slid underneath her hair, around to the back of her neck as he often did. He tugged her gently forwards and her breath caught on a sigh when his mouth sealed over hers.

It was a kiss of raw, genuine emotion. A bit rough around the edges, but meaningful and conveying a message that words could not. It was a combination of gratitude and affection and urgency and vulnerability. It was everything they needed it to be in that moment.

And the moon continued to shine like a beacon of hope suspended in the sky, emanating a divine aura of everlasting magic and feasible dreams. Its moonbeams, soft and silvery, lifted the dark of the night to an almost deep blue and cast the city in its fantasy of miracles.

And so they sat in the moonlight, basking in its radiant, hypnotic glow, until it faded away with the morning sun and they tiredly crawled into bed, finding safety and comfort in their proximity and entangled limbs. They let their minds succumb to the world of dreams, where their problems and responsibilities faded from existence, if only for a short while.

A/N: So that's part 2! I hope you liked it. Feel free to drop a review!