[ For anyone watching, it doesn't seem like Elizabeth's death really effects Jack at all. He goes about a relatively normal day after, smiling, laughing, joking. Nothing is any different beyond that one, muted "huh" when he had seen her floating outside. He returns to his room in the evening when he's free from being at Jason's side, and as he often does, the walkie talkie is set on the coffee table, and Jack sets his datapad to playing music. It's perfectly routine, since he likes to listen to music while he works, and his work never stops.
But for someone that's grown used to this routine, there's a deviation from the usual. He doesn't take a seat at the desk as he usually might. He doesn't tackle whatever problem is on his mind, whether it's something about escaping the ship or just inspiration for some kind of product that Hyperion could make. He steps into the bathroom and turns on the shower, which might make this seem like this is something that a voyeur might want to avert their eyes from for a few minutes, but Jack walks to the counter and braces himself against it as he lowers his head. His posture is tense, and his arms nearly shake from the grip.
In that, it's clearer what the music and the shower are for. It's white noise meant to drown things out for whatever a walkie talkie could hear. Because as he stands there, he talks. He's not talking to anyone, just speaking for the sake of reasoning through things, but his thoughts are hurried. He's stumbling over his words, but it's not with a sense of anxiety. No, more than that, it's like what he's saying just can't keep up with how fast he's thinking. ]
Six-- Yeah, there's sixteen left. So, what, that's-- Sixty percent. Sixty percent loss, and barely any of them were even from the Soulvaki. So- So, that has to be the point. They don't need to do anything. Just wait. The problem will take care of itself, but then what? There has to be some goddamn purpose, some reason—
[ Jack draws back, and predictably, his expression starts to split into a grin. He reaches up to run a hand through his hair and to pace around the bathroom. ]
So- Which is it? Log said four to five, so we've got two or three of 'em left. That's about sixteen, not impossible, but not probable. So, what, two, five suspects, that's-- Sixty-three. Sixty-three percent chance that one of them. Is infected. And if it's three... Three is [ Jack laughs, and he pulls his hand down to cover half of his face. ] Ninety-four. It-- It could even be all of them? It's not likely, just fractions but--
[ He breaks off there suddenly, and Jack's grin just grows as his hand slowly drops back to his side. ]
Hah— Haha, it's just-- Just friggin' idiots, all of them! They don't— They don't even fucking understand what's at stake here! How- How could they? None of 'em, they don't even get that this, if it's real, we're so, just, where are we going to go? You let an infected ship into your borders? Let that shit spread? No-- No, you've gotta kill 'em all. Only the ones you know are safe, they're the only ones that get to live. You minimize the loss of life by doing that much. That's all you- Ha! That's all you can do! They don't even get it!
[ Jack laughs even more, like this is the funniest realization he's ever had, but he's shaking his head with an expression that doesn't match that at all. He looks genuinely pained, as if this is a realization he hates to come to, but that too is just his thoughts shifting too quickly for what he's saying to keep up. ]
There's— What-- What am I supposed to do here? The one goddamn person I give a shit about and, and what? Can't-- Couldn't...
[ The ranting trails off here, and Jack runs a hand through his hair again before he looks up. His gaze catches his own in the mirror, and for a moment, there's only the sound of water running and the sound of the music outside. ]
[ And truly, there's just silence as Jack stares himself down.
Jack has always been a man of masks, long, long before the scar on his face had appeared. It was a part of who he was, because his whole life, he'd felt that the only way to grasp the life he wanted for himself was to wear masks. You never show what you really feel. You deflect with a smile and a joke. You keep people at arm's length while making them feel like you're an old friend, because that way, no one can get close enough to lift off that mask unless you want them to. After all, to do what he does, he had to be untouchable. Any weakness was ammunition. But at some point that he couldn't point out even if he wanted to, that mask had stopped being a mask. Whatever masks John had chosen to take were what made Handsome Jack, and as he was now, they're a part of him.
So, when he catches his own gaze like this, he's struck by that.
Elizabeth was dead, and here he was, rattling off numbers? Hunting down aliens that— Well, they could have had something to do with it, but that wasn't a guarantee. It was just a chance. It could have been some asshole just as much, and in that moment, he knows that. But one option comes with purpose, and the other comes with... Nothing. His shoulders sink slightly as some of that wound-up tension drifts out of him. It's a familiar heaviness, and he hates that it's familiar at all, but he knows it all the same.
When had Elizabeth become important enough to him that he would grieve like this for her?
He'd been ready to kill her just like Rhys if she defied him. That was just the way he did things, because that had become a part of who he was too. When he was hurt, then the only way they could properly apologize for that was through blood. It was never something he thought on, but that was simply how things had happened. Maybe he had hesitated in scorning her because of how much she resembled Angel, but he knew that this wasn't what had him stay his hand in the end. He knew she was similar. That was factual and undeniable. But now, when he thinks about Elizabeth, he doesn't think about Angel at all. Not really, at least, beyond how Elizabeth could bring Angel back to him. But she wasn't the only one.
He tries to pick that out, because it doesn't... make much sense to him. He'd hated her, but as soon as he'd seen her flesh twist into what he'd been hunting, he only felt a deep fear. It wasn't for himself. It was for her, and he knew that. For a moment, he'd felt that he'd failed somehow, but he'd never thought much further on that. Then, she came to him after, not scorning, but willing to listen. It had surprised him, because no one was ever willing to listen. His second wife hadn't been, so he'd killed her. That's how simple it was. So the fact that Elizabeth has been more willing to hear his side of the story than even she was, well... He'd actually never thought too much further on that either. Not until now.
No, he thinks. It had to have been when she threatened to kill him.
It's odd, and he knows that, because death threats were a daily occurrence for him. They held no weight at all, and if anything, he took a joy in the challenge. He had to her too, because he just had the sort of personality where he would do everything he could to defy death itself. In a way, that's why he was here at all. But from Elizabeth, there was a weight that was different there. He knew she meant it. He knew she would. He even knew that he shouldn't trust her, because whatever he said, he was sure that it was getting relayed to someone else. She was honest, in that way. He could always see how guilt twisted her up, and not being aware of himself enough to think that it was because of her associating with him at all, he'd always felt it was something like that. Yet, even so, he spoke with her honestly. More honestly than he had spoken with--
In his thoughts, he pauses, and his hand instead comes up to settle over his mouth. He tries to think back, but those memories get blurry and indistinct in that way that serves as that reminder of what he is. Jack can't remember, not with any clarity. It had been years and years ago, because that mask had become so much a part of him that it never shifted any more than it had to. From watching a series of videos where he can't question or deny what's said in them to having a girl who should hate him still offering her hopes for his salvation, he feels that he's starting to see those masks for what they are.
So, he wonders, is this grieving for her? Or is it for himself? He can never really be sure. But the fact that he even wonders, that does feel new. Jack walks back to the counter, as if he's trying to get a better look at himself. ]
[ His expression twists up in anger. It's barely any time at all before that new, metal fist swings out and crashes against the mirror. It cracks underneath his fist across the entire surface, and several small pieces fall out to clatter against the counter when he pulls his fist away. He looks furious, and it's the kind of look that would send fear down anyone's spine if they were the one staring at it, but it's only his own, cracked face looking back. ]
No—
[ Jack starts out with a shaky breath, and he laughs. It feels like he's watching himself much more than he's feeling now, and so he sees how his eyes grow glassy until tears spill over. It seems distant, because he doesn't feel it happen at all, but his words grow more vehement. ]
No, no, no, this is not the end. I- I know it.
[ He sounds so certain of himself and so assured, and it gets him to laugh in that way that's worryingly manic. For everything he's learned in the past week, he feels all the more sure of it, but it means that there's a sinister truth underneath it all. So by saying this, he has to accept it. He has to accept that this isn't real in some way. Whatever the truth was, if he accepts that possibility, it closes doors for him. No matter which details make it up, they all end in the same truth, and that's the idea that this ship is a prison that he can't escape. Just like the ECHO drive, he's trapped. And if he's trapped, all his dreams, all of Handsome Jack's dreams will die, because there's no way for him to bring his paradise if there's nothing for him to return to.
It's so much grief all mixed together that he couldn't even say what he's shedding tears for here. It's Elizabeth, it's himself, it's his hopes, because they all mix together in a way that Jack feels he understands. Even so, that grief isn't despair. He laughs, because the grief, the accepting of the possibility that even if he were to do as asked, it might not mean a thing, it's hilarious. It's ironic in a way that feels cruel, but at least in this, he can also realize something else.
Here, he's not alone. ]
It's- It's that friggin' game. They're all-- Liz, Rhys, they're not— If Hancock can send that message, then they have to be somewhere. That data, who they are, it's not-- Just gone.
[ Jack laughs again, shaking his head, and he looks to the shower, or more specifically, the water. ]
I'll find them. I can find them, because Al-- Hey, Al, I know you're listening, because you're always listening, aren't you? You said you strove to know what I know, remember? Qualia, physicality, purpose, all of that bullshit. I'd- I'd give it to you, you know that? You've had every goddamn chance to just take over this body, but no, that's not what you want. You want something else. You want to keep me out. Because-- [ The thought is broken with a laugh ] You know I'll tear this whole fucking ship apart. I'll kill myself to kill you. You know that.
[ He steps back, letting the pieces of the mirror lay where they fall. He just ends up turning his head again to look at himself, but backs up until his back hits the wall. Jack just laughs, the sort of insane cackling that's probably only just barely drowned out by the shower and the music. ]
Aaaliiice... [ His tone is mocking, and unintentionally, it parallels the way that an alien had said her name weeks ago. ] I'm going to find them. I'm going to find out what the fuck is going on here. And then? I'm going to kill you. Even if I die, I don't give a shit. I'll wipe every fucking bit of your existence out. I'll break your sentience while you beg for me to stop. That's-- That is what a goddamn hero does.
[ His tone is harsh and raw, but it breaks into more laughter as Jack just slowly sinks to sit on the tile of the floor. He ends up sighing out a noise of exhaustion as the laughter finally dies down and those tears of frustration and grief start to slow, but he looks up at the ceiling again. This time, his voice is quiet, almost a murmur. ]
I'll save them. I'll save... all of them. Even if they have to die first, it's-- just data.
[ see, the problem here is rhys knows jack. at this point? he really fucking knows him despite how messed up his perception has become. so rhys, ever faithful, watched jack and jason discover liz's body and stuck with watching jack until elizabeth found him later, after she arrived.
it left rhys unsettled, a bit more hollow and chiseled away in a way he couldn't quite handle. he wasn't sure how much of this he could take, how much more watching he could do before things took a real toll on him, made his psyche truly shatter beyond repair (not that he'd realized yet just how far gone he's become, that's not till much later -- if ever).
he missed jack, like an ache in his chest that he couldn't fill and just watching him wasn't helping anymore -- not with the specter of rhys' mistake lingering just outside with the rest of them. he wanted to talk to elizabeth again, to make her understand what he meant, what his side of the story was and how wrong he was about... everything, but he wasn't sure if she'd listen.
so, he continues to watch jack.
it's when jack retires for the night that rhys suddenly starts paying attention to the feed again. his arms wrapped around his knees and head tucked into his body while his eyes fixate on the monitor. he knew jack's reaction to elizabeth's death was... subtle, excepted a reaction later -- to jason, maybe? he didn't think so, didn't think jack trusted jason enough for that even if jason was so equally effected by the death. so, he must have been keeping it to himself, must have been saving it for later -- that's what rhys thought.
for a moment, rhys doesn't want to do anything. he watches jack leave jason's side and take the trip to his room and --
rhys bolts.
he has to find elizabeth, he thinks. quickly because he doesn't want her to miss this. if she can just see what rhys has seen, especially when it's so related to her? he knows this would help him, help prove his point. jack was trying to help her this entire time, and her rejecting his help was cruel. elizabeth didn't know what she had, didn't know what it was that she was giving up and maybe now rhys can... show her, can show her the truth.
and if she accepts it, maybe rhys can kill her. he hasn't yet decided.
so, wherever elizabeth so happens to be, she'll see rhys run up to her frantically before grabbing at her wrist with his robot hand and taking off back to the shack. he'll ignore any of her protests, using the slight strength there to make sure she comes with him and to explain why they're running, he bites out -- ]
It's Jack! You have to see this, you have to.
[ and hopefully that's enough because when they burst into the shack and return to the monitor, jack is just beginning to speak. rhys will let go of elizabeth then, running both of his hands through his hair as he settles, something in him just finally feeling at rest at jack's very, very insane babbling. rhys is too... off, too broken to really understand the nature of this, it being relayed to him in such a way that he keeps justifying it to himself.
jack thinks so much, he can't keep it inside. jack's brain works too quickly, this is a result of that. jack's so smart, he's already figured it all out. jack's going to save them all, he's the hero of this story.
rhys falls back into his chair and lets out a sigh of relief, body relaxing fully for once as he watches jack rant into the mirror about math and alien and everything else. he props his head up on his elbow, lets jack's breakdown play out in front of them and isn't even surprised when jack falls silent.
he isn't even surprised when jack breaks the mirror.
(there is one twist to his expression during this, one little jerk of his eyes from the monitor to elizabeth when he hears jack say it. the one goddamn person i give a shit about. his mouth curls into something ugly and his free hand clenches in his lap but a moment later, his expression falls neutral, placid. he continues to watch.)
in fact, as jack starts up again and finally, finally pieces it together -- rhys smiles, content. rhys' eyes fall shut when he hears jack says his name and it feels good, like there's hope for him yet -- someone as disgusting, as vile as rhys, to still be considered by jack? he's not unworthy, he's not.
jack begins to yell at alice and rhys doesn't pay much attention because what he needed elizabeth to see was this, was jack's heroism coming out in full force. can't she see now? doesn't she understand? handsome jack is going to save them all, just like he saved rhys. he has to tell her this.
when jack finishes, rhys' eyes open up again and he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looks up at elizabeth. he catches a glance of jack again, the man is crying and rhys' heart twists but he knows there's nothing he can do. no, right now all he can do is talk to elizabeth again. ]
See? He's our hero. He's going to save us.
[ and that's all rhys has to say before he smiles again and leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as if he's just proved a point. as if he's just, finally, shown elizabeth the truth. ]
[ Elizabeth wanted to be alone. Not in the way that Rhys had been. Not with the hopelessness that he felt inside but in hopes of peace. In hopes that she can deal with her feelings - her longing for Jason, her worry for Yuno and Luke - it was silly but he ruins that. He's quick to come to her with hope on his face, of course, it's because of Jack. Something Jack had done. She's not sure she can stomach it but he hurts her when his hand snaps against her wrist. She protests, screaming at him and batting his arm only to find her struggle useless. They're back to in front of the monitors before she can guess and all she sees is Jack in his madness.
He stews, exploding in a fit of frustration and it's bittersweet. Elizabeth's eyes dart from screen to screen - watching the different expressions and angles of his features twisting. She both hates that she made him feel this way and feels uncomfortable by the sudden self-motivation. Hearing him talk so vividly about being a hero - as if she's just some maiden needing to be saved. As if this was some obligation that he needs to do - not because it's right, but because he's the only hero here.
Elizabeth feels so uncomfortable watching the vulgarities and seeing his expression change. Grief, sadness, anger, frustration. ]
No.. that's not -
[ Had her death triggered this? Truly? Elizabeth believes Jack to be of many things, but this - she never has seen this motivation on such a forward, bold level. It makes her breath quicken and her thoughts conflicted. It pains her to know she caused this and she'll glance at Rhys every so often, watching as he just... idolizes him. Elizabeth takes a step back, shaking her head. ]
He's not a hero because he - because he has a personal stake in this now... [ She honestly feels this is a man snapped, who knows his last chance to revive Angel was gone. That's all she can think of. The motive this week - it means nothing because he's not the one who killed her. Angel won't be revived. Elizabeth's eyes shut and a few heavy tears roll down her cheek soon after. ] I don't want to be here. I don't -
He can't erase the things he's done just because he's doing ask I asked for him to - to save them.
[ At this point, she has no clue if he's seen her letters, but Elizabeth turns her back to Rhys, feeling as if she's talking to a brick wall. She feels more alone than ever. ]
...Let him be your hero, but he's not mine.
[ And with that, Elizabeth exits with a soft cry. ]
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momijizukamori
week 10 - friday evening (1/???)
Date: 2016-08-13 06:44 pm (UTC)But for someone that's grown used to this routine, there's a deviation from the usual. He doesn't take a seat at the desk as he usually might. He doesn't tackle whatever problem is on his mind, whether it's something about escaping the ship or just inspiration for some kind of product that Hyperion could make. He steps into the bathroom and turns on the shower, which might make this seem like this is something that a voyeur might want to avert their eyes from for a few minutes, but Jack walks to the counter and braces himself against it as he lowers his head. His posture is tense, and his arms nearly shake from the grip.
In that, it's clearer what the music and the shower are for. It's white noise meant to drown things out for whatever a walkie talkie could hear. Because as he stands there, he talks. He's not talking to anyone, just speaking for the sake of reasoning through things, but his thoughts are hurried. He's stumbling over his words, but it's not with a sense of anxiety. No, more than that, it's like what he's saying just can't keep up with how fast he's thinking. ]
Six-- Yeah, there's sixteen left. So, what, that's-- Sixty percent. Sixty percent loss, and barely any of them were even from the Soulvaki. So- So, that has to be the point. They don't need to do anything. Just wait. The problem will take care of itself, but then what? There has to be some goddamn purpose, some reason—
[ Jack draws back, and predictably, his expression starts to split into a grin. He reaches up to run a hand through his hair and to pace around the bathroom. ]
So- Which is it? Log said four to five, so we've got two or three of 'em left. That's about sixteen, not impossible, but not probable. So, what, two, five suspects, that's-- Sixty-three. Sixty-three percent chance that one of them. Is infected. And if it's three... Three is [ Jack laughs, and he pulls his hand down to cover half of his face. ] Ninety-four. It-- It could even be all of them? It's not likely, just fractions but--
[ He breaks off there suddenly, and Jack's grin just grows as his hand slowly drops back to his side. ]
Hah— Haha, it's just-- Just friggin' idiots, all of them! They don't— They don't even fucking understand what's at stake here! How- How could they? None of 'em, they don't even get that this, if it's real, we're so, just, where are we going to go? You let an infected ship into your borders? Let that shit spread? No-- No, you've gotta kill 'em all. Only the ones you know are safe, they're the only ones that get to live. You minimize the loss of life by doing that much. That's all you- Ha! That's all you can do! They don't even get it!
[ Jack laughs even more, like this is the funniest realization he's ever had, but he's shaking his head with an expression that doesn't match that at all. He looks genuinely pained, as if this is a realization he hates to come to, but that too is just his thoughts shifting too quickly for what he's saying to keep up. ]
There's— What-- What am I supposed to do here? The one goddamn person I give a shit about and, and what? Can't-- Couldn't...
[ The ranting trails off here, and Jack runs a hand through his hair again before he looks up. His gaze catches his own in the mirror, and for a moment, there's only the sound of water running and the sound of the music outside. ]
no subject
Date: 2016-08-13 07:55 pm (UTC)Jack has always been a man of masks, long, long before the scar on his face had appeared. It was a part of who he was, because his whole life, he'd felt that the only way to grasp the life he wanted for himself was to wear masks. You never show what you really feel. You deflect with a smile and a joke. You keep people at arm's length while making them feel like you're an old friend, because that way, no one can get close enough to lift off that mask unless you want them to. After all, to do what he does, he had to be untouchable. Any weakness was ammunition. But at some point that he couldn't point out even if he wanted to, that mask had stopped being a mask. Whatever masks John had chosen to take were what made Handsome Jack, and as he was now, they're a part of him.
So, when he catches his own gaze like this, he's struck by that.
Elizabeth was dead, and here he was, rattling off numbers? Hunting down aliens that— Well, they could have had something to do with it, but that wasn't a guarantee. It was just a chance. It could have been some asshole just as much, and in that moment, he knows that. But one option comes with purpose, and the other comes with... Nothing. His shoulders sink slightly as some of that wound-up tension drifts out of him. It's a familiar heaviness, and he hates that it's familiar at all, but he knows it all the same.
When had Elizabeth become important enough to him that he would grieve like this for her?
He'd been ready to kill her just like Rhys if she defied him. That was just the way he did things, because that had become a part of who he was too. When he was hurt, then the only way they could properly apologize for that was through blood. It was never something he thought on, but that was simply how things had happened. Maybe he had hesitated in scorning her because of how much she resembled Angel, but he knew that this wasn't what had him stay his hand in the end. He knew she was similar. That was factual and undeniable. But now, when he thinks about Elizabeth, he doesn't think about Angel at all. Not really, at least, beyond how Elizabeth could bring Angel back to him. But she wasn't the only one.
He tries to pick that out, because it doesn't... make much sense to him. He'd hated her, but as soon as he'd seen her flesh twist into what he'd been hunting, he only felt a deep fear. It wasn't for himself. It was for her, and he knew that. For a moment, he'd felt that he'd failed somehow, but he'd never thought much further on that. Then, she came to him after, not scorning, but willing to listen. It had surprised him, because no one was ever willing to listen. His second wife hadn't been, so he'd killed her. That's how simple it was. So the fact that Elizabeth has been more willing to hear his side of the story than even she was, well... He'd actually never thought too much further on that either. Not until now.
No, he thinks. It had to have been when she threatened to kill him.
It's odd, and he knows that, because death threats were a daily occurrence for him. They held no weight at all, and if anything, he took a joy in the challenge. He had to her too, because he just had the sort of personality where he would do everything he could to defy death itself. In a way, that's why he was here at all. But from Elizabeth, there was a weight that was different there. He knew she meant it. He knew she would. He even knew that he shouldn't trust her, because whatever he said, he was sure that it was getting relayed to someone else. She was honest, in that way. He could always see how guilt twisted her up, and not being aware of himself enough to think that it was because of her associating with him at all, he'd always felt it was something like that. Yet, even so, he spoke with her honestly. More honestly than he had spoken with--
In his thoughts, he pauses, and his hand instead comes up to settle over his mouth. He tries to think back, but those memories get blurry and indistinct in that way that serves as that reminder of what he is. Jack can't remember, not with any clarity. It had been years and years ago, because that mask had become so much a part of him that it never shifted any more than it had to. From watching a series of videos where he can't question or deny what's said in them to having a girl who should hate him still offering her hopes for his salvation, he feels that he's starting to see those masks for what they are.
So, he wonders, is this grieving for her? Or is it for himself? He can never really be sure. But the fact that he even wonders, that does feel new. Jack walks back to the counter, as if he's trying to get a better look at himself. ]
no subject
Date: 2016-08-13 08:37 pm (UTC)No—
[ Jack starts out with a shaky breath, and he laughs. It feels like he's watching himself much more than he's feeling now, and so he sees how his eyes grow glassy until tears spill over. It seems distant, because he doesn't feel it happen at all, but his words grow more vehement. ]
No, no, no, this is not the end. I- I know it.
[ He sounds so certain of himself and so assured, and it gets him to laugh in that way that's worryingly manic. For everything he's learned in the past week, he feels all the more sure of it, but it means that there's a sinister truth underneath it all. So by saying this, he has to accept it. He has to accept that this isn't real in some way. Whatever the truth was, if he accepts that possibility, it closes doors for him. No matter which details make it up, they all end in the same truth, and that's the idea that this ship is a prison that he can't escape. Just like the ECHO drive, he's trapped. And if he's trapped, all his dreams, all of Handsome Jack's dreams will die, because there's no way for him to bring his paradise if there's nothing for him to return to.
It's so much grief all mixed together that he couldn't even say what he's shedding tears for here. It's Elizabeth, it's himself, it's his hopes, because they all mix together in a way that Jack feels he understands. Even so, that grief isn't despair. He laughs, because the grief, the accepting of the possibility that even if he were to do as asked, it might not mean a thing, it's hilarious. It's ironic in a way that feels cruel, but at least in this, he can also realize something else.
Here, he's not alone. ]
It's- It's that friggin' game. They're all-- Liz, Rhys, they're not— If Hancock can send that message, then they have to be somewhere. That data, who they are, it's not-- Just gone.
[ Jack laughs again, shaking his head, and he looks to the shower, or more specifically, the water. ]
I'll find them. I can find them, because Al-- Hey, Al, I know you're listening, because you're always listening, aren't you? You said you strove to know what I know, remember? Qualia, physicality, purpose, all of that bullshit. I'd- I'd give it to you, you know that? You've had every goddamn chance to just take over this body, but no, that's not what you want. You want something else. You want to keep me out. Because-- [ The thought is broken with a laugh ] You know I'll tear this whole fucking ship apart. I'll kill myself to kill you. You know that.
[ He steps back, letting the pieces of the mirror lay where they fall. He just ends up turning his head again to look at himself, but backs up until his back hits the wall. Jack just laughs, the sort of insane cackling that's probably only just barely drowned out by the shower and the music. ]
Aaaliiice... [ His tone is mocking, and unintentionally, it parallels the way that an alien had said her name weeks ago. ] I'm going to find them. I'm going to find out what the fuck is going on here. And then? I'm going to kill you. Even if I die, I don't give a shit. I'll wipe every fucking bit of your existence out. I'll break your sentience while you beg for me to stop. That's-- That is what a goddamn hero does.
[ His tone is harsh and raw, but it breaks into more laughter as Jack just slowly sinks to sit on the tile of the floor. He ends up sighing out a noise of exhaustion as the laughter finally dies down and those tears of frustration and grief start to slow, but he looks up at the ceiling again. This time, his voice is quiet, almost a murmur. ]
I'll save them. I'll save... all of them. Even if they have to die first, it's-- just data.
1/2
Date: 2016-08-14 04:37 am (UTC)there was an argument.
it left rhys unsettled, a bit more hollow and chiseled away in a way he couldn't quite handle. he wasn't sure how much of this he could take, how much more watching he could do before things took a real toll on him, made his psyche truly shatter beyond repair (not that he'd realized yet just how far gone he's become, that's not till much later -- if ever).
he missed jack, like an ache in his chest that he couldn't fill and just watching him wasn't helping anymore -- not with the specter of rhys' mistake lingering just outside with the rest of them. he wanted to talk to elizabeth again, to make her understand what he meant, what his side of the story was and how wrong he was about... everything, but he wasn't sure if she'd listen.
so, he continues to watch jack.
it's when jack retires for the night that rhys suddenly starts paying attention to the feed again. his arms wrapped around his knees and head tucked into his body while his eyes fixate on the monitor. he knew jack's reaction to elizabeth's death was... subtle, excepted a reaction later -- to jason, maybe? he didn't think so, didn't think jack trusted jason enough for that even if jason was so equally effected by the death. so, he must have been keeping it to himself, must have been saving it for later -- that's what rhys thought.
for a moment, rhys doesn't want to do anything. he watches jack leave jason's side and take the trip to his room and --
rhys bolts.
he has to find elizabeth, he thinks. quickly because he doesn't want her to miss this. if she can just see what rhys has seen, especially when it's so related to her? he knows this would help him, help prove his point. jack was trying to help her this entire time, and her rejecting his help was cruel. elizabeth didn't know what she had, didn't know what it was that she was giving up and maybe now rhys can... show her, can show her the truth.
and if she accepts it, maybe rhys can kill her. he hasn't yet decided.
so, wherever elizabeth so happens to be, she'll see rhys run up to her frantically before grabbing at her wrist with his robot hand and taking off back to the shack. he'll ignore any of her protests, using the slight strength there to make sure she comes with him and to explain why they're running, he bites out -- ]
It's Jack! You have to see this, you have to.
[ and hopefully that's enough because when they burst into the shack and return to the monitor, jack is just beginning to speak. rhys will let go of elizabeth then, running both of his hands through his hair as he settles, something in him just finally feeling at rest at jack's very, very insane babbling. rhys is too... off, too broken to really understand the nature of this, it being relayed to him in such a way that he keeps justifying it to himself.
jack thinks so much, he can't keep it inside. jack's brain works too quickly, this is a result of that. jack's so smart, he's already figured it all out. jack's going to save them all, he's the hero of this story.
rhys falls back into his chair and lets out a sigh of relief, body relaxing fully for once as he watches jack rant into the mirror about math and alien and everything else. he props his head up on his elbow, lets jack's breakdown play out in front of them and isn't even surprised when jack falls silent.
he isn't even surprised when jack breaks the mirror.
(there is one twist to his expression during this, one little jerk of his eyes from the monitor to elizabeth when he hears jack say it. the one goddamn person i give a shit about. his mouth curls into something ugly and his free hand clenches in his lap but a moment later, his expression falls neutral, placid. he continues to watch.)
in fact, as jack starts up again and finally, finally pieces it together -- rhys smiles, content. rhys' eyes fall shut when he hears jack says his name and it feels good, like there's hope for him yet -- someone as disgusting, as vile as rhys, to still be considered by jack? he's not unworthy, he's not.
jack begins to yell at alice and rhys doesn't pay much attention because what he needed elizabeth to see was this, was jack's heroism coming out in full force. can't she see now? doesn't she understand? handsome jack is going to save them all, just like he saved rhys. he has to tell her this.
when jack finishes, rhys' eyes open up again and he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looks up at elizabeth. he catches a glance of jack again, the man is crying and rhys' heart twists but he knows there's nothing he can do. no, right now all he can do is talk to elizabeth again. ]
See? He's our hero. He's going to save us.
[ and that's all rhys has to say before he smiles again and leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as if he's just proved a point. as if he's just, finally, shown elizabeth the truth. ]
2/2
Date: 2016-08-14 04:37 am (UTC)He stews, exploding in a fit of frustration and it's bittersweet. Elizabeth's eyes dart from screen to screen - watching the different expressions and angles of his features twisting. She both hates that she made him feel this way and feels uncomfortable by the sudden self-motivation. Hearing him talk so vividly about being a hero - as if she's just some maiden needing to be saved. As if this was some obligation that he needs to do - not because it's right, but because he's the only hero here.
Elizabeth feels so uncomfortable watching the vulgarities and seeing his expression change. Grief, sadness, anger, frustration. ]
No.. that's not -
[ Had her death triggered this? Truly? Elizabeth believes Jack to be of many things, but this - she never has seen this motivation on such a forward, bold level. It makes her breath quicken and her thoughts conflicted. It pains her to know she caused this and she'll glance at Rhys every so often, watching as he just... idolizes him. Elizabeth takes a step back, shaking her head. ]
He's not a hero because he - because he has a personal stake in this now... [ She honestly feels this is a man snapped, who knows his last chance to revive Angel was gone. That's all she can think of. The motive this week - it means nothing because he's not the one who killed her. Angel won't be revived. Elizabeth's eyes shut and a few heavy tears roll down her cheek soon after. ] I don't want to be here. I don't -
He can't erase the things he's done just because he's doing ask I asked for him to - to save them.
[ At this point, she has no clue if he's seen her letters, but Elizabeth turns her back to Rhys, feeling as if she's talking to a brick wall. She feels more alone than ever. ]
...Let him be your hero, but he's not mine.
[ And with that, Elizabeth exits with a soft cry. ]