Reinette fell silent at Jack's soft acquiescence. She wanted him to rage. She wanted him to be angry, even if with her. She wanted anything but the air of defeat that fell about him.

Anything at all.

She worked to keep her features composed.

In contrast, the cleaning of his body was simple. There was little shyness between them, there never had been. And concern for him mentally made it all the more simple to ignore any comparisons between the Jack of then, and now.

More soap was added to the water to battle the stench and to clean the rest of his skin. With careful, precise hands more accustomed to etching and embroidery she worked around his open wounds. His hair was next. Shampooed once. Twice. And then once more before moving to the rest of the hair matted across his body.

He hardly moved as she cut away the impossibly long hair, long grey streaks falling behind the tub. Then the beard before she finished shaving away what scissors failed to manage. There hardly seemed any of him left. Smaller scissors cut away nails that had grown unchecked.

Les, and less of him still.

And yet still what not caused her deepest concern.

There was no way Reinette could spare him what came next. She did not have the strength to lift him from the tub. Instead she was forced to call upon two of her oldest, most trusted servants. Ones she was certain would not report to Louis. They helped her remove Jack to her bed. And then she dismissed them once more.

There Reinette was able to wipe away the last of the grime that lingered from the water away from his pale, damaged skin. Ointment was carefully applied to all of it. She covered him carefully, sitting to one side of the bed.

The sun was long set, and without any candles the room seemed impossibly dark.