week 7 - date tbd ugh fuck me
Jul. 17th, 2016 11:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
refactor[ Jack sleeps for a long time. Probably longer than he has in years, and in a way, that's restful. It's a deep, dreamless sleep where you lose a sense of time. But the problem is, you always have to wake up.
The first time he wakes, it's in pain, and Jack's screaming turns into laughter as he holds what's left of his arm. He actually can't believe that he's still alive, because when he'd gone down, he'd thought for sure that would be it. He'd be following after Rhys right into Hell, just like he'd been hoping. But, no. No, he's still here.
The second time, it's stranger, because there's that different realization beyond hysteria that the arm is gone, just like... Well, a lot. It's something he dwells on for far longer than he would like, but eventually, sleep overtakes him after he takes the most meager meal he can.
The third time, he decides he's tired of being in here. He's well aware that there's no one here that would give a rat's ass to come check on him, but that realization doesn't really bother him much. He shifts with a heavy groan to get out of the bed, then starts to gather up the supplies that he might need to tend to himself. Thank god for Nisha, he thinks. If she hadn't taught him how to patch himself up, well—
His hair raises on the back of his neck with the sudden sensation of being watched. That fonder memory disappears, and Jack looks around, towards the vent first, but then, the door. His heart sinks in his chest, but he doesn't look away, even though he wants to. ]
—Uh. Hey.
The first time he wakes, it's in pain, and Jack's screaming turns into laughter as he holds what's left of his arm. He actually can't believe that he's still alive, because when he'd gone down, he'd thought for sure that would be it. He'd be following after Rhys right into Hell, just like he'd been hoping. But, no. No, he's still here.
The second time, it's stranger, because there's that different realization beyond hysteria that the arm is gone, just like... Well, a lot. It's something he dwells on for far longer than he would like, but eventually, sleep overtakes him after he takes the most meager meal he can.
The third time, he decides he's tired of being in here. He's well aware that there's no one here that would give a rat's ass to come check on him, but that realization doesn't really bother him much. He shifts with a heavy groan to get out of the bed, then starts to gather up the supplies that he might need to tend to himself. Thank god for Nisha, he thinks. If she hadn't taught him how to patch himself up, well—
His hair raises on the back of his neck with the sudden sensation of being watched. That fonder memory disappears, and Jack looks around, towards the vent first, but then, the door. His heart sinks in his chest, but he doesn't look away, even though he wants to. ]
—Uh. Hey.
no subject
Date: 2016-07-20 02:20 pm (UTC)Booker.
She wants to get back to him so badly, to return to him and escape to Paris. Such a dream is childish now. So irrelevant... There were better things to do than mix peas with porridge. Elizabeth acts on her own bitterness, her own guilt to get her to this point.
She knows there's a time where she will question if she can really kill him. To avenge Rhys, to give redemption to Fiona - to Angel. She doesn't know facts. One conversation, she repeats, one at a time.
Where she sees his datapad filling with dumb programs, he sees promise. He sees opportunity.
As it's passed, her eyes begin to scan. It takes a while for her to ready through it, but she repeats: ]
Pelagic Genesis...?
[ She's unsure, but as he says something, it strikes her. ]
So there's more. [ She says matter of factly. She doesn't blame him - transparency is an acquired trait. ] How far have you sold your soul for this...?
[ It's not exactly demeaning, but she's exhausted. Confused. She sees Booker in him - a man with debt, in some form or another. She's reaching, and he can see her sympathy turn into a clenched one, teeth tightening together the more she reads.
The part with the aliens are interesting, so she stays silent, after. It takes a moment for her to finally part her lips. ]
Infected. I'm not the only one being used... and you're suddenly saddled with this insurmountable responsibility. How many others are there?
no subject
Date: 2016-07-20 09:41 pm (UTC)[ There's definitely no sense that Jack is lying here, but it's not hard to read between the lines and guess that he might have another reason for being more guarded. It is irrelevant, since finding out Elizabeth and Rhys both were infected had thrown off his informal metric. But the thoughts in that portion were also personal. At the start of his little mission, he had the idea of nobly having those files go to someone if he were (somehow) to fail and to provide them at least something to go off of. Now? Now, they could pretty much all rot, for all he cared.
But surprisingly, for the other half of her comment, Jack's response is immediate. He laughs, though it's cut off with a wince. ]
So- Sold my soul? That's a little much. Didn't even ask for this. Just went, did my digging, removed the pieces from play so that they wouldn't know I was onto them.
[ There's no conflict here for him. He was given a task, asked to be a hero, and he's done everything he could to accomplish it. It may not be simple, but it's straightforward, so far as he's concerned. It at least leads into the next point well. ]
How many, though? No idea. [ Jack says it matter of factly, confident. At least outwardly, it seems that responsibility doesn't weigh heavily on him by that reaction. ] Hell, for all I know, could be everyone.
[ He pauses, considers his words, then shrugs. ]
...I said it, didn't I? "You can't trust anyone. Not really."
no subject
Date: 2016-07-23 10:10 pm (UTC)Huh. I suppose those in the future lose their poetic flare.
[ DAMN. She's a little cold, but honestly? Selling your soul for a lead isn't above most. Especially if it could lead to salvation. Elizabeth falters, her hands clutching infront of her. He can tell she's nervous. He can tell that despite the anger and need for revenge... she's growing up. Pulling from mindsets where everything will be okay because it's evident that couldn't be far from the truth. ]
So... memory loss is one of the biggest indictors. Alibis and memories not lining up. Jack, I - I honestly don't recall bringing the wine to Hancock.
[ She says, sad as her eyes peel from him to an unsuspecting wall. ]
The turret, the ivy - ... I just remember painting.
[ Elizabeth looks down, thinking of Rhys. Thinking of the words he said during the trial, how quickly he ripped away at the "lies" Jack told her. She doesn't know how to feel - not that she was terribly close with Rhys but he did so much to save her. Even for a stupid vendetta.
And now? She thinks of Fiona. ]
I'll keep in touch. Don't talk to me in public. I don't care how you feel about me - whatever... whatever moments we shared, how you viewed me... it doesn't matter, does it?
[ A beat. ]
I won't trust anyone again.
no subject
Date: 2016-07-23 10:41 pm (UTC)[ His voice is softer there, almost encouraging, but he doesn't push his luck quite that much. It's a good thing too, since with how she continues, it really draws the line in the sand. He had been planning to say more or less the same, that they really shouldn't talk to each other in public anymore, but the rest is what gives him pause.
There's a long moment of silence, and Jack looks down towards his hands-- Or hand, as it would be now. His expression is neutral, coolly controlled, and that's quite different for Jack, who usually wears his thoughts and emotions so openly. It seems like he wants to say something, and he does, but it never comes. He sighs, then nods slightly before he looks back up to meet her eyes again. For the first time, it feels like he's acting more his age, and it shows on his face and in his voice. It's quieter, not quite regretful, but more thoughtful. ]
...Nah, trusting people isn't ever really worth the trouble anyways.
[ Jack shifts, since their conversation is close enough to done now that he can resume collecting stuff to take back to his room. He stands again and walks past her, but pauses before he's back over at his supplies. ]
We'll talk more about... Stuff. Later. But for now, for what it's worth, I'm sorry, kiddo.
[ But he'll continue walking back to his stuff after that without elaborating further on what he's sorry about. Maybe it's for everything. Or maybe it's just for whatever story Jack has spun for himself. Considering this is one of the few times that he seems to be leaning towards silence, it's not really possible to tell which it is. ]