[ rhys hates being dead. when he woke up, he found himself lying there on the ground for an exceptionally long time, parsing through his feelings and what -- what even just happened. it's all such a blur and for a long, long time he just sat there and tried to remember what was real.
he remembers being shot, remembers the look on jack's face -- the sting of betrayal lingering behind his eyes as he lifted the gun and before anyone could even stop him, there was a bullet in rhys' skull. rhys thought that was in, genuinely couldn't imagine anything beyond that but as the pygmalion has proved time and time again, there was always more.
he remembers his body hurting, the throbbing of the metal in his brain pulsating with each passing moment. he remembers the shifting, cracking, breaking down of his bones as his body transformed into this -- this monster. he remembers the complete abject horror he felt when he realized he had become the same thing that elizabeth was, the same thing that threw his body like a rag doll and woke him up enough to be there when jack shot him. he remembers staring right at jack and as the monster talked, his conscious screaming wait no, not jack! before a claw came down and he -- it -- they escaped into the vents together.
he thinks he blacked out after that.
it was a strange, humming kind of conscious. he wasn't there, not really, because he was -- he was dead. sometimes though, the body would shift and the wires in his brain would connect just enough so he could realize what was going on. he remembers being curled in a corner of the vents and the creature lifting a clawed hand to his own eyeball, so angry at these handicaps it had to deal with. remembers the excruciating, brutal pain as it clawed out the organ and tossed it to the side, a mess of wires and blood.
that's better, it thought. help, he thought.
it was the pain that did the trick, actually. enough sensation running through his shambling corpse that the leftover dregs of his mind were able to pick up on it, to remember it. the monster was constantly in pain as the days went by, the bullet still buried deep in his skull and it considered -- if for just a moment -- trying to take it out. another handicap that just had to go. of course, the monster still had things to accomplish, had made promises it knew it had to keep, so it wouldn't risk damaging this shell more than it had to. the eye, the arm, they were dragging it down and making its mobility suffer, they had to go.
rhys wished it was over, silently begged for death at his increasing inability to tell himself apart from this thing as the days went by. it was shifting too fast from him to it and back to him again without him being able to do... anything. the creature was usually able to keep its host at bay, rewrite what it wanted to make sure they were completely unaware but -- the two of them were beyond that point, curling together in this symbiotic death as the thing dragged rhys and his corpse along with it for his last final days.
of course, the creature was growing impatient. it needed to kill, needed to take something of theirs for its promise. it needed to make up for the failings of his host and for the loss of his partner because this is what it owed. it needed to do this or there would be a punishment far, far worse than anything alice could do.
so, it tried to take care of its mortal body. the bleeding was getting excessive, the eye crusting over in ways that were even starting to hurt it. its thoughts were breaking down into something incoherent, more instinct than the practicality it usually knew. it couldn't let this get out of hand before --
harold arrived and it knew what it must do.
later, rhys found himself injured far, far worse than he ever thought he'd be. there was a panic to its movements but also a resigned feeling from the both of them -- this was the end. he (no, it. it.) had made good on its (his) promises, knew that it'd done enough to be allowed to die with mercy because truly, this was the more merciful option for it. maybe not for rhys though. rhys' terror thrummed white hot inside of this thing, wondering if maybe he... deserved this? maybe now, that he knew what he was, maybe it was all inevitable.
maybe jack was right.
with fiona's bullet nestled right next to jack's like a well deserved goodnight kiss, rhys was finally able to let go. at this point, rhys wasn't sure if this was mercy or revenge. at this point, rhys wasn't sure if he deserved worse. this was really way too simple, wasn't it? he... he hurt so many people, he let so many things pass him by, he was a monster and nothing could really make up for that fact. the only thing the pygmalion did was finally make it a brutal, physical thing for him to deal with but rhys knew, he's been a monster since the day he sent helios crashing to the ground.
[ when he's finally able to pull it together, to gain a better coherency than he's had since... truthfully, the night that green haired brat lost his shit and he stood next to jack, grinning about it, he drags a hand over his face and assesses his new problem: death. rhys' views on an afterlife or penance or anything like that -- they were complicated and always in flux. on one hand, he wanted to believe there was something good after this, that he'd find peace at one point or another, that maybe all the bad things happening in the universe were a hand of fate instead of just a chaotic suffering. on the other, rhys knew that that was a fairly impossible dream and if it were true -- he'd already done too much to deserve anything good when he got there.
so, as he wakes and feels a cool breeze on his face, he doesn't think this is actually the end. it can't be since this is just... too simple, there was still so much going on that this had to be a kind of purgatory, right? if this was truly the end, why didn't he see anyone he knew? why didn't he see, hell, vasquez, towering large and smiling big down at him? it would be an odd comfort, in a way -- like everything he knew back home was once again valid. his rules back in place, his security in knowing that hyperion was bad, jack was bad, and he was somewhere in the middle.
instead he catches glimpses of others from the pygmalion and nothing about it comforts him. it means his rules are still in disarray, it means that jack is still... he can't be sure. the confusing slosh of emotions of the last few days still spin around in his head to a point where he has to wonder, did jack know what was inside him? did jack know that he was this monster, with such bloodthirsty goals and hollow priorities? jack had always -- he'd always had some sort of goal, knew more than everyone else did, knew what had to be done. that's why rhys idolized him and tried in his way to emulate that. rhys remembers jack when he was alive, knew with such sureness that he was someone who could grab the universe by the throat and get it to spit out exactly what he wanted. if anything, the jack rhys had in his head was just a shadow of that man and while jack died alone, the vault hunters having taken his life in their own stake of revenge, it... never really quite diminished jack to rhys.
yes, jack was mortal and was stopped by a mere bullet but isn't that the best part? that someone so human could be so great at the same time, that he could stand out like he did in a universe full of other mere mortals. he was just one man who did as much as he possibly could and should be admired for that, should be respected for that! that is why rhys could never think of him anything less than a hero, even when told otherwise.
sometimes, after helios, he wondered if the real jack would have turned on him like the AI did. maybe it was the physical, mortal jack that was the hero and the AI that was corrupted? ... maybe it was just something as simple as a fault of programming.
maybe he could fix it.
so, that's why he kept the eye. that's why despite the bumpy start on the pygmalion and knowing what he did about jack, he... still kept to his side. it was to keep him happy, to keep him calm -- that's how he justified it to fiona, to himself even, but he knew the reasons underneath. he knew it was his selfish, greedy need to look into jack's eyes and see that trust again, that same brand of affection that rhys saw only in the digital, glitching neon blue. instead this time it was physical and heterochromic. that's why rhys said yes to everything jack wanted, from simple stuff to going to the gym to just... defending him in trials when jack was objectively wrong here.
there was something in rhys that yearned for jack. not in some sort of sick, crass way -- not some sort of crush or obsession (though obsession is the only word that could really come close) but in some sort of way that, for rhys, all roads lead to jack. he isn't even sure when it started, honestly. just knew that at one point his goals shifted from be "happy and rich and powerful" to "be like jack" and that was a whole different concept completely. he just wanted jack to approve of him, to keep him close and need him just as much as rhys felt like he needed jack. this almost physical need to consume jack and what he meant to rhys just so he knew he'd have jack close to him, forever. he knew -- he knew he couldn't explain that to anyone. not fiona, not vaughn, not even jack himself because no one got it. they all saw something else, saw it as a reflection of rhys or an approval for jack's atrocities. it wasn't, it never was, and it still isn't even after helios. jack did awful things, died for those awful things, came back and did even more awful things involving rhys and he...
... rhys can never finish that sentence. he's never sure how to put into actual words what makes jack so all-consuming for him. it's a feeling more than anything else, a curl of his fingers around an empty space in front of him, a dryness to his throat and a hollow feeling in his gut. that lack of stability or assurance is a constant nagging thing until jack is there, in front of him, physical and with his everpresent smile. rhys has memorized the way the corners of jack's eyes crinkle when he smiles at rhys, the awkward, shambling way jack lumps the two of them together sometimes, as if discomforted by the very idea yet can't help but admit to their bond. he's come to understand how jack works, what makes jack tick, what jack really felt at rhys' refusal at the end there. it was betrayal to jack, there's no question about it and rhys thought of that knowledge as a weapon to use against him here on the pygmalion. he thought he'd need that weapon. he thought he'd use that weapon. it would protect him against jack, if jack turned on him again? he couldn't die, he couldn't let jack hurt him again.
he regrets using it, should've damned elizabeth with the rest of them if only to -- to...
rhys sighs, there was no way he was going to let elizabeth suffer through jack once he realized what was happening. there's the question though, what was happening? he thought jack was... manipulating her, right? making her feel like she could be his daughter (a spike of white, hot jealousy rises up in rhys at that and he tries to ignore it because the explanation for it is not something he can deal with right now) but maybe he wasn't. maybe he was looking out for her too, with the creature inside of her just like it was in rhys. he wonders what happened to her. did jack put her down for the good of the ship like he did rhys? because... of course, that must have been why he killed rhys.
rhys betrayed him by keeping his daughter's death a secret. rhys betrayed him by keeping this monster inside of him. ]
[ elizabeth is alive and rhys isn't sure how to feel about that.
he found out where to watch what happens, feeling a voyeuristic sensation settle over him as he sat in the chair and began to go through the screens. it was... thursday, he realized, and the last thing he remembered was elizabeth's transformation on sunday night before the feeling of being shot by jack. bits and pieces crawl through his memories from when he turned into that monster but other than that, he isn't sure what to make of anything. he feels a startling numbness, the only thing holding back a tidal wave of even worse, more terrifying emotions as he observes everything with a blank, flat expression.
the camera switches to fiona first, wrapping her bleeding finger in the med bay. rhys sinks into his chair and feels his head drop, eyes moving to the ceiling because he just -- he said he would stay and he didn't. he shouldn't have stayed though, when he thinks about it. not with this nasty, rotten thing crawling inside of him -- it would have hurt her. he knows it, it would have mercilessly torn apart fiona with little regard for rhys' feelings and, and, and --
... and he wonders, if for a moment, she knew? she was so silent during the trial despite her assurance she would back him up against jack. he felt so alone, so right in his beliefs that he ignored the stress in her eyes and did little to stop himself from going head to head against jack. he thought it was so obvious -- jack was vile! terrible! jack deserved everything bad that happened to him! he ENSLAVED his DAUGHTER, of course he was the bad guy here.
yet everyone just thought rhys was hysterical, that he was yelling for his own sake and a nuisance at most. marinette egged him on, called him an idiot when she didn't even know. she had no idea what rhys dealt with when it came to jack, had no idea just how deep rhys' fear of the other man ran. he thinks of dorian who promised to talk to him, to hear him out later but -- but how. rhys knew jack wouldn't hesitate, it didn't matter what rhys said or did but if nothing changed right then, nothing would change at all.
so, maybe she knew. left him alone to deal with jack because she knew that he was a monster deep down all along. he finds himself curling into the chair, hands sliding through his hair as he brings his knees up to his chest and try to remember how to breathe. she must have known because otherwise, why would she be so quiet? why would she have abandoned him like this? fiona never -- fiona never abandoned him, until now. he feels a hollow sort of emptiness when he realizes why.
she knew he was a monster. jack knew he was a monster. he was alone from the start.
at least... at least jack didn't kill him immediately, though? that must have been what was happening. jack trying to keep rhys company, keep him from becoming worse than he was. that's why rhys felt so happy around him, that must be it. jack was fine with switching handcuff partners that week because... because he knew what rhys was. of course. he knew that minako couldn't handle rhys like he could and that has to be why. it has to be why because... what other reason could there be? that must've been why he punched him too, he had no idea what rhys was actually dreaming about -- must have thought it was the thing inside him coming to the surface and not one of rhys' own insecurities.
of course. it all makes so much sense now. jack was trying to save him.
when he pulls his hands out of his hair, there are tears on his face but he doesn't bother to stem them and instead switches views to someone else. just -- just, he had to get away from fiona. he hopes she burned his letter, hopes she can find happiness elsewhere. he doesn't deserve it, he doesn't deserve anyone at all. the camera settles on elizabeth after a moment and she's in the holding cells, asleep. he's shocked for a moment, really truly shocked because if she's alive... why wasn't he? what... what changed in that small gap of time that he's missing? maybe there was some sort of mistake, just a hiccup and at any moment he'll be returned to his body like nothing happened. or... or maybe -- maybe his monster was stronger? it dragged him along for so long, it kept him aware long past the point of body decay -- maybe... maybe they couldn't keep him alive? they must have tried, he thinks. why would they just let him die?
... oh god, what if he didn't deserve to be saved? jack must have had to make a choice, seeing how far gone rhys had become. rhys was truly becoming his monster at that point, right? he was the bad guy here, the one who had to be put down. that's why elizabeth still lives and he doesn't. jack saved all of them by killing him. that despair he felt at being alone, it makes sense now if he was this thing all along. jack knew and tried to spare them even more grief but his monster, oh it went out of control. maybe it's because he's -- well, he's not elizabeth. elizabeth was kind and good and did way fucking more for anyone than he ever did. maybe it's who you are that determines how... vile you become.
rhys has never been a good person and now, he's died for it.
[ the camera turns to jack and rhys sort of... gets lost in him? he idly thinks he should have a more extreme reaction to seeing jack here, alive and whole and without him but instead all he feels is a strange, calming sensation. it isn't the same pervasive loneliness he feels when he sees fiona, or the mix of betrayal and self-pity he sees when he sees elizabeth. it's a quiet, numbing calm because he gets it now.
jack killed him because he was a monster. jack is a hero. jack's always been a hero.
he sits in his chair with his arms wrapped loosely around his ankles, his cheek pressed against his knee as he watches jack on the screen. there's -- there's a trial happening and everyone is caught up once again in events. another death? some girl, rhys doesn't remember her name, doesn't bother to reach for it. instead he keeps his eyes on jack, jack who seems so peaceful in his sleep despite the hysteria. rhys could sympathize, he thinks. jack did just save the ship, kill (save) the two people who were destined to destroy everything from the inside out. trials could return to normal with nothing lurking underneath the skin of the innocent ones left until everyone can finally find their way around alice and...
maybe then they'll get to go home. he wonders if that's why he's stuck here, watching them. will he come back? will they let him come back? he's not sure if he deserves it anymore. after all, he did kill jack and helios seems so long ago now that... that rhys has to rethink it. maybe jack was trying to do the same thing there that he did here? save rhys? rhys was so blinded by his own ego that he couldn't understand his intentions, couldn't understand that jack was just trying to help. he was always just trying to help rhys, wasn't that what he said? they were a team and sometimes being part of a team means having to make the hard calls. hard calls like putting down your partner because he's gone too far.
rhys had gone so far that even fiona couldn't save him anymore. he really did deserve this, he thinks.
rhys watches as jack returns from the trial and settles in for the night. he doesn't feel much empathy for shelley, doesn't really remember why she bothered killing in the first place. she seemed so guilty, so sad over what she's done and rhys doesn't feel a thing -- just a tired sigh at the repetition. jack was so right, he thinks. he's really become what he feared -- cold and dead inside, unable to relate to those around him, unable to care for them. he was going down the wrong path the whole time and he hadn't even realized.
god, he's fucking stupid.
he feels like he should feel something when jack takes out his torn up arm but at most, he glances down to where it is now -- whole on his right side. he hasn't bothered to test the mechanics of it here, to see if his things are still accessible. what's the point? the stuff in his arm, all of his important atlas documents and blueprints, his memories of his friends, his stupid freggin' echojournal. he wonders if he could access it here, watch the logs all over again and see where he can find the exact moment he turned from... whatever he once was to whatever he is now. he's not quite sure anymore if he was a good person then but he definitely knows he's not a good person now. he hopes jack destroys it since there's no damn point to it all anymore -- or maybe, maybe he can take it as his own? rhys destroyed hyperion, jack can have atlas. rhys doesn't deserve the company any more but jack could do it so much better with it, couldn't he? he could make pandora safe like rhys was trying to... make it a place to actually live, like jack was originally doing before the vault hunters stopped him.
he's fine with watching this, watching jack take the arm apart and repurpose it for his own until suddenly, jack starts to speak. rhys' brow furrows and he can't help but pay attention, wondering what jack could possibly have on his mind right now until he realizes -- it's him. jack's talking about him, rhys. rhys' breath catches in his throat and he finally lifts his head from his legs, watching the screen with intense eyes.
he needs -- he wishes -- fuck. he finds himself unfolding from the chair and approaching the screen with outstretched arms. he listens to jack and can't help the boiling need to respond. this is the closest he's felt to the guy since... since... two weeks ago. it really has been a while, huh?
always trusting people i know i goddamn shouldn't. ]
Wait --
[ don't get it, though. it doesn't make any goddamn sense. ]
Wait.
[ he could've killed me. had plenty of chances, since i didn't think he'd screw me. ]
Wait, Jack!
[ jack's voice quiets and rhys is left clutching the screen of the video feed, eyes watering once more as he just... doesn't now quite how to process this. there's so many feelings churning in his gut and he wants to go back, wants to talk to jack, wants to -- ]
... I'm so sorry, Jack. I am so, so sorry.
[ apologize. he wants to apologize. rhys takes a step back from the screen, slowly sinking to his knees and pressing his hands to his face as the tears finally start to spill over. he hurts, he hurts so bad because at least -- at least jack didn't abandon him in the end, did he? he tried to help until he knew he couldn't help any more. he helped liz, right? because that must have been what happened, he must have been the one to pull the monster out of her but keep her alive. he must've tried the same for rhys because why wouldn't he? why wouldn't jack help him? but rhys was far too gone at that point, even fiona knew and that's why she didn't fight it. that had to be the reason why because nothing else made any sense. why would everyone just abandon him? why would no one believe him? why would fiona stay so silent? there's only one clear option here and it's because he was the bad guy and jack was the hero who was going to save the day.
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a death in four parts, part one of four.
he remembers being shot, remembers the look on jack's face -- the sting of betrayal lingering behind his eyes as he lifted the gun and before anyone could even stop him, there was a bullet in rhys' skull. rhys thought that was in, genuinely couldn't imagine anything beyond that but as the pygmalion has proved time and time again, there was always more.
he remembers his body hurting, the throbbing of the metal in his brain pulsating with each passing moment. he remembers the shifting, cracking, breaking down of his bones as his body transformed into this -- this monster. he remembers the complete abject horror he felt when he realized he had become the same thing that elizabeth was, the same thing that threw his body like a rag doll and woke him up enough to be there when jack shot him. he remembers staring right at jack and as the monster talked, his conscious screaming wait no, not jack! before a claw came down and he -- it -- they escaped into the vents together.
he thinks he blacked out after that.
it was a strange, humming kind of conscious. he wasn't there, not really, because he was -- he was dead. sometimes though, the body would shift and the wires in his brain would connect just enough so he could realize what was going on. he remembers being curled in a corner of the vents and the creature lifting a clawed hand to his own eyeball, so angry at these handicaps it had to deal with. remembers the excruciating, brutal pain as it clawed out the organ and tossed it to the side, a mess of wires and blood.
that's better, it thought. help, he thought.
it was the pain that did the trick, actually. enough sensation running through his shambling corpse that the leftover dregs of his mind were able to pick up on it, to remember it. the monster was constantly in pain as the days went by, the bullet still buried deep in his skull and it considered -- if for just a moment -- trying to take it out. another handicap that just had to go. of course, the monster still had things to accomplish, had made promises it knew it had to keep, so it wouldn't risk damaging this shell more than it had to. the eye, the arm, they were dragging it down and making its mobility suffer, they had to go.
rhys wished it was over, silently begged for death at his increasing inability to tell himself apart from this thing as the days went by. it was shifting too fast from him to it and back to him again without him being able to do... anything. the creature was usually able to keep its host at bay, rewrite what it wanted to make sure they were completely unaware but -- the two of them were beyond that point, curling together in this symbiotic death as the thing dragged rhys and his corpse along with it for his last final days.
of course, the creature was growing impatient. it needed to kill, needed to take something of theirs for its promise. it needed to make up for the failings of his host and for the loss of his partner because this is what it owed. it needed to do this or there would be a punishment far, far worse than anything alice could do.
so, it tried to take care of its mortal body. the bleeding was getting excessive, the eye crusting over in ways that were even starting to hurt it. its thoughts were breaking down into something incoherent, more instinct than the practicality it usually knew. it couldn't let this get out of hand before --
harold arrived and it knew what it must do.
later, rhys found himself injured far, far worse than he ever thought he'd be. there was a panic to its movements but also a resigned feeling from the both of them -- this was the end. he (no, it. it.) had made good on its (his) promises, knew that it'd done enough to be allowed to die with mercy because truly, this was the more merciful option for it. maybe not for rhys though. rhys' terror thrummed white hot inside of this thing, wondering if maybe he... deserved this? maybe now, that he knew what he was, maybe it was all inevitable.
maybe jack was right.
with fiona's bullet nestled right next to jack's like a well deserved goodnight kiss, rhys was finally able to let go. at this point, rhys wasn't sure if this was mercy or revenge. at this point, rhys wasn't sure if he deserved worse. this was really way too simple, wasn't it? he... he hurt so many people, he let so many things pass him by, he was a monster and nothing could really make up for that fact. the only thing the pygmalion did was finally make it a brutal, physical thing for him to deal with but rhys knew, he's been a monster since the day he sent helios crashing to the ground.
nothing on the pygmalion would change that. ]
a death in four parts, part two of four.
so, as he wakes and feels a cool breeze on his face, he doesn't think this is actually the end. it can't be since this is just... too simple, there was still so much going on that this had to be a kind of purgatory, right? if this was truly the end, why didn't he see anyone he knew? why didn't he see, hell, vasquez, towering large and smiling big down at him? it would be an odd comfort, in a way -- like everything he knew back home was once again valid. his rules back in place, his security in knowing that hyperion was bad, jack was bad, and he was somewhere in the middle.
instead he catches glimpses of others from the pygmalion and nothing about it comforts him. it means his rules are still in disarray, it means that jack is still... he can't be sure. the confusing slosh of emotions of the last few days still spin around in his head to a point where he has to wonder, did jack know what was inside him? did jack know that he was this monster, with such bloodthirsty goals and hollow priorities? jack had always -- he'd always had some sort of goal, knew more than everyone else did, knew what had to be done. that's why rhys idolized him and tried in his way to emulate that. rhys remembers jack when he was alive, knew with such sureness that he was someone who could grab the universe by the throat and get it to spit out exactly what he wanted. if anything, the jack rhys had in his head was just a shadow of that man and while jack died alone, the vault hunters having taken his life in their own stake of revenge, it... never really quite diminished jack to rhys.
yes, jack was mortal and was stopped by a mere bullet but isn't that the best part? that someone so human could be so great at the same time, that he could stand out like he did in a universe full of other mere mortals. he was just one man who did as much as he possibly could and should be admired for that, should be respected for that! that is why rhys could never think of him anything less than a hero, even when told otherwise.
sometimes, after helios, he wondered if the real jack would have turned on him like the AI did. maybe it was the physical, mortal jack that was the hero and the AI that was corrupted? ... maybe it was just something as simple as a fault of programming.
maybe he could fix it.
so, that's why he kept the eye. that's why despite the bumpy start on the pygmalion and knowing what he did about jack, he... still kept to his side. it was to keep him happy, to keep him calm -- that's how he justified it to fiona, to himself even, but he knew the reasons underneath. he knew it was his selfish, greedy need to look into jack's eyes and see that trust again, that same brand of affection that rhys saw only in the digital, glitching neon blue. instead this time it was physical and heterochromic. that's why rhys said yes to everything jack wanted, from simple stuff to going to the gym to just... defending him in trials when jack was objectively wrong here.
there was something in rhys that yearned for jack. not in some sort of sick, crass way -- not some sort of crush or obsession (though obsession is the only word that could really come close) but in some sort of way that, for rhys, all roads lead to jack. he isn't even sure when it started, honestly. just knew that at one point his goals shifted from be "happy and rich and powerful" to "be like jack" and that was a whole different concept completely. he just wanted jack to approve of him, to keep him close and need him just as much as rhys felt like he needed jack. this almost physical need to consume jack and what he meant to rhys just so he knew he'd have jack close to him, forever. he knew -- he knew he couldn't explain that to anyone. not fiona, not vaughn, not even jack himself because no one got it. they all saw something else, saw it as a reflection of rhys or an approval for jack's atrocities. it wasn't, it never was, and it still isn't even after helios. jack did awful things, died for those awful things, came back and did even more awful things involving rhys and he...
... rhys can never finish that sentence. he's never sure how to put into actual words what makes jack so all-consuming for him. it's a feeling more than anything else, a curl of his fingers around an empty space in front of him, a dryness to his throat and a hollow feeling in his gut. that lack of stability or assurance is a constant nagging thing until jack is there, in front of him, physical and with his everpresent smile. rhys has memorized the way the corners of jack's eyes crinkle when he smiles at rhys, the awkward, shambling way jack lumps the two of them together sometimes, as if discomforted by the very idea yet can't help but admit to their bond. he's come to understand how jack works, what makes jack tick, what jack really felt at rhys' refusal at the end there. it was betrayal to jack, there's no question about it and rhys thought of that knowledge as a weapon to use against him here on the pygmalion. he thought he'd need that weapon. he thought he'd use that weapon. it would protect him against jack, if jack turned on him again? he couldn't die, he couldn't let jack hurt him again.
he regrets using it, should've damned elizabeth with the rest of them if only to -- to...
rhys sighs, there was no way he was going to let elizabeth suffer through jack once he realized what was happening. there's the question though, what was happening? he thought jack was... manipulating her, right? making her feel like she could be his daughter (a spike of white, hot jealousy rises up in rhys at that and he tries to ignore it because the explanation for it is not something he can deal with right now) but maybe he wasn't. maybe he was looking out for her too, with the creature inside of her just like it was in rhys. he wonders what happened to her. did jack put her down for the good of the ship like he did rhys? because... of course, that must have been why he killed rhys.
rhys betrayed him by keeping his daughter's death a secret. rhys betrayed him by keeping this monster inside of him. ]
a death in four parts, part three of four.
he found out where to watch what happens, feeling a voyeuristic sensation settle over him as he sat in the chair and began to go through the screens. it was... thursday, he realized, and the last thing he remembered was elizabeth's transformation on sunday night before the feeling of being shot by jack. bits and pieces crawl through his memories from when he turned into that monster but other than that, he isn't sure what to make of anything. he feels a startling numbness, the only thing holding back a tidal wave of even worse, more terrifying emotions as he observes everything with a blank, flat expression.
the camera switches to fiona first, wrapping her bleeding finger in the med bay. rhys sinks into his chair and feels his head drop, eyes moving to the ceiling because he just -- he said he would stay and he didn't. he shouldn't have stayed though, when he thinks about it. not with this nasty, rotten thing crawling inside of him -- it would have hurt her. he knows it, it would have mercilessly torn apart fiona with little regard for rhys' feelings and, and, and --
... and he wonders, if for a moment, she knew? she was so silent during the trial despite her assurance she would back him up against jack. he felt so alone, so right in his beliefs that he ignored the stress in her eyes and did little to stop himself from going head to head against jack. he thought it was so obvious -- jack was vile! terrible! jack deserved everything bad that happened to him! he ENSLAVED his DAUGHTER, of course he was the bad guy here.
yet everyone just thought rhys was hysterical, that he was yelling for his own sake and a nuisance at most. marinette egged him on, called him an idiot when she didn't even know. she had no idea what rhys dealt with when it came to jack, had no idea just how deep rhys' fear of the other man ran. he thinks of dorian who promised to talk to him, to hear him out later but -- but how. rhys knew jack wouldn't hesitate, it didn't matter what rhys said or did but if nothing changed right then, nothing would change at all.
so, maybe she knew. left him alone to deal with jack because she knew that he was a monster deep down all along. he finds himself curling into the chair, hands sliding through his hair as he brings his knees up to his chest and try to remember how to breathe. she must have known because otherwise, why would she be so quiet? why would she have abandoned him like this? fiona never -- fiona never abandoned him, until now. he feels a hollow sort of emptiness when he realizes why.
she knew he was a monster. jack knew he was a monster. he was alone from the start.
at least... at least jack didn't kill him immediately, though? that must have been what was happening. jack trying to keep rhys company, keep him from becoming worse than he was. that's why rhys felt so happy around him, that must be it. jack was fine with switching handcuff partners that week because... because he knew what rhys was. of course. he knew that minako couldn't handle rhys like he could and that has to be why. it has to be why because... what other reason could there be? that must've been why he punched him too, he had no idea what rhys was actually dreaming about -- must have thought it was the thing inside him coming to the surface and not one of rhys' own insecurities.
of course. it all makes so much sense now. jack was trying to save him.
when he pulls his hands out of his hair, there are tears on his face but he doesn't bother to stem them and instead switches views to someone else. just -- just, he had to get away from fiona. he hopes she burned his letter, hopes she can find happiness elsewhere. he doesn't deserve it, he doesn't deserve anyone at all. the camera settles on elizabeth after a moment and she's in the holding cells, asleep. he's shocked for a moment, really truly shocked because if she's alive... why wasn't he? what... what changed in that small gap of time that he's missing? maybe there was some sort of mistake, just a hiccup and at any moment he'll be returned to his body like nothing happened. or... or maybe -- maybe his monster was stronger? it dragged him along for so long, it kept him aware long past the point of body decay -- maybe... maybe they couldn't keep him alive? they must have tried, he thinks. why would they just let him die?
... oh god, what if he didn't deserve to be saved? jack must have had to make a choice, seeing how far gone rhys had become. rhys was truly becoming his monster at that point, right? he was the bad guy here, the one who had to be put down. that's why elizabeth still lives and he doesn't. jack saved all of them by killing him. that despair he felt at being alone, it makes sense now if he was this thing all along. jack knew and tried to spare them even more grief but his monster, oh it went out of control. maybe it's because he's -- well, he's not elizabeth. elizabeth was kind and good and did way fucking more for anyone than he ever did. maybe it's who you are that determines how... vile you become.
rhys has never been a good person and now, he's died for it.
he has to tell jack thank you. ]
a death in four parts, part four of four.
jack killed him because he was a monster. jack is a hero. jack's always been a hero.
he sits in his chair with his arms wrapped loosely around his ankles, his cheek pressed against his knee as he watches jack on the screen. there's -- there's a trial happening and everyone is caught up once again in events. another death? some girl, rhys doesn't remember her name, doesn't bother to reach for it. instead he keeps his eyes on jack, jack who seems so peaceful in his sleep despite the hysteria. rhys could sympathize, he thinks. jack did just save the ship, kill (save) the two people who were destined to destroy everything from the inside out. trials could return to normal with nothing lurking underneath the skin of the innocent ones left until everyone can finally find their way around alice and...
maybe then they'll get to go home. he wonders if that's why he's stuck here, watching them. will he come back? will they let him come back? he's not sure if he deserves it anymore. after all, he did kill jack and helios seems so long ago now that... that rhys has to rethink it. maybe jack was trying to do the same thing there that he did here? save rhys? rhys was so blinded by his own ego that he couldn't understand his intentions, couldn't understand that jack was just trying to help. he was always just trying to help rhys, wasn't that what he said? they were a team and sometimes being part of a team means having to make the hard calls. hard calls like putting down your partner because he's gone too far.
rhys had gone so far that even fiona couldn't save him anymore. he really did deserve this, he thinks.
rhys watches as jack returns from the trial and settles in for the night. he doesn't feel much empathy for shelley, doesn't really remember why she bothered killing in the first place. she seemed so guilty, so sad over what she's done and rhys doesn't feel a thing -- just a tired sigh at the repetition. jack was so right, he thinks. he's really become what he feared -- cold and dead inside, unable to relate to those around him, unable to care for them. he was going down the wrong path the whole time and he hadn't even realized.
god, he's fucking stupid.
he feels like he should feel something when jack takes out his torn up arm but at most, he glances down to where it is now -- whole on his right side. he hasn't bothered to test the mechanics of it here, to see if his things are still accessible. what's the point? the stuff in his arm, all of his important atlas documents and blueprints, his memories of his friends, his stupid freggin' echojournal. he wonders if he could access it here, watch the logs all over again and see where he can find the exact moment he turned from... whatever he once was to whatever he is now. he's not quite sure anymore if he was a good person then but he definitely knows he's not a good person now. he hopes jack destroys it since there's no damn point to it all anymore -- or maybe, maybe he can take it as his own? rhys destroyed hyperion, jack can have atlas. rhys doesn't deserve the company any more but jack could do it so much better with it, couldn't he? he could make pandora safe like rhys was trying to... make it a place to actually live, like jack was originally doing before the vault hunters stopped him.
he's fine with watching this, watching jack take the arm apart and repurpose it for his own until suddenly, jack starts to speak. rhys' brow furrows and he can't help but pay attention, wondering what jack could possibly have on his mind right now until he realizes -- it's him. jack's talking about him, rhys. rhys' breath catches in his throat and he finally lifts his head from his legs, watching the screen with intense eyes.
he needs -- he wishes -- fuck. he finds himself unfolding from the chair and approaching the screen with outstretched arms. he listens to jack and can't help the boiling need to respond. this is the closest he's felt to the guy since... since... two weeks ago. it really has been a while, huh?
always trusting people i know i goddamn shouldn't. ]
Wait --
[ don't get it, though. it doesn't make any goddamn sense. ]
Wait.
[ he could've killed me. had plenty of chances, since i didn't think he'd screw me. ]
Wait, Jack!
[ jack's voice quiets and rhys is left clutching the screen of the video feed, eyes watering once more as he just... doesn't now quite how to process this. there's so many feelings churning in his gut and he wants to go back, wants to talk to jack, wants to -- ]
... I'm so sorry, Jack. I am so, so sorry.
[ apologize. he wants to apologize. rhys takes a step back from the screen, slowly sinking to his knees and pressing his hands to his face as the tears finally start to spill over. he hurts, he hurts so bad because at least -- at least jack didn't abandon him in the end, did he? he tried to help until he knew he couldn't help any more. he helped liz, right? because that must have been what happened, he must have been the one to pull the monster out of her but keep her alive. he must've tried the same for rhys because why wouldn't he? why wouldn't jack help him? but rhys was far too gone at that point, even fiona knew and that's why she didn't fight it. that had to be the reason why because nothing else made any sense. why would everyone just abandon him? why would no one believe him? why would fiona stay so silent? there's only one clear option here and it's because he was the bad guy and jack was the hero who was going to save the day.
the only one who didn't know this was rhys. ]