[ After receiving a series of messages, Jack sits back with a sigh at his desk. He reaches up to massage his brow lightly like he's tired, but he leans forward again to grab his glasses off the desk as he opens the drawer that contains Rhys's hard drive. It's not quite alone anymore, since it's become something of the place where Jack has started storing sentimental things, though that wasn't quite his intent. He hesitates, but only briefly before he grabs the letters that Elizabeth had written for him. He looks between the two, the sighs as he picks up the crumpled one first. ]
So, uh— [ He starts awkwardly, since he's aware now that people could be watching him, which is... An odd realization to have. He looks up to the ceiling, though he doesn't even know where he'd be looking to look at-- Whoever could be watching. Jack shakes his head and looks back at the papers. ]
Look, kind of weird to just... talk. Knowing someone is maybe listening? Watching. Jesus. [ He frowns and shakes his head. ] And Rhys, if you're listening, since, who am I kidding, I know you are, just— Christ.
[ He runs a hand through his hair, then leans back in his chair with a heavy sigh. ]
Okay, look. I just know from- from the friggin' picture that I'm... I'm gonna get upset. So, I dunno. Don't... mention it. I have feelings, you said it's not weird, et cetera, just pointing this out because screw you.
[ he's sensitive, aubrey
Which is to say, Jack is rather defensive at the prospect of showing any kind of emotion he perceives as weakness where people might be watching. He makes a discontent noise, but opens the first, crumpled up letter to read it— ]
[ It almost sounds like he's psyching himself up to read these, because in a way, he absolutely is. In truth, Jack hadn't been sure that he would be able to read them at all, or at least not for quite a while. There was something in the idea of doing so that, to him, felt like it would be accepting Elizabeth's death. It's irrational, and he even knew that, but there was some kind of insane hope there that it could still be fixed, as if there was just a way he could reach out and defy death.
So, when it turned out that was true? It absolutely made these something he could tackle. Not easily, since the pang of dread seeing Elizabeth floating by the viewport was still fresh, as was his madness not long after. For better or for worse, her contacting him had asserted the latter.
He reads the crumpled letter, and it doesn't take him long at all to smile. "You've shown me nothing but kindness," it says, and that smile is tinged with a distant sadness. It's dated, so he knows when this letter was written, but right away, that line really makes the contrast sink in. He knows that without even having to read the other, since it's been clear since Elizabeth learned about Angel that she wouldn't say this to him. Not anymore.
In fact... There's so much here as he reads that he has to wonder if she would say it at all anymore. That innocence and brightness is so clear in these words that it's almost painful, because ever selfish, Jack's thoughts here turn to himself. He'd noticed how she had changed, since it was hard to miss, but now, having this sharp of a contrast in mind, he can't help but wonder— Had that been his fault, in some way? Surely not completely. The alien, killing her friends, maiming them, that was most of it, he was sure. But still, she speaks so warmly of him here that it's impossible for him to dismiss that possibility, even though he'd certainly like to.
When he gets to the point where the picture is pointed out, he looks to it, since unlike the letters, that's been sitting on his desk. If he could, he would absolutely frame it just as he had the real thing, since it was now precious to him twice-over. But in lieu of that, it simply has its own place of neatness among the organized chaos of the rest of Jack's desk. It sits alone without anything around it, a tiny spot like a shrine among all his work and machinations.
By the time he gets to the end, Jack sighs, and the letter is neatly folded up again to be put back in the desk. ]
Guessing- the rest might, uh. Not apply. But, yeah, I like the drawing. Thanks for...
[ Jack pauses, then takes the time to try and smooth the wrinkles out of the paper before it's set back in the desk. ]
[ The second letter is the one that he knows will be harder. That's pretty obvious just from the length, because he hadn't scanned any of the others for content, but it was easy to tell that this one was the longest. It's not a surprise, not really. He knows that her thoughts about him have to be as complicated his were for her. Though it does dawn on him that there's a difference there. He doesn't think he would have ever put those to paper, or to his datapad, or anywhere at all. But that's a thought he doesn't want to dwell on. At least, not right now.
He reads, and his smile quirks slightly as he sees that very set of thoughts relayed, but it's short-lived. His posture tightens defensively as he reads, because her words aren't new to start, but just as when she had told him as much in person, there's a defense, an excuse waiting. It is for the greater good, he thinks, it is something to take pride in. Just as he's justified to himself a thousand times before, it's just a lack of knowing his vision. But the mention of Rhys brings back the memory of a video and the beginnings of the realization that had come with it.
It gets that tension to abate, physically, but also mentally. Those excuses and defenses are harder to hold up in that knowledge that if not now, then one day, Helios would be no more. That may seem like the wrong thing to focus on, but for Jack, Hyperion was opportunity. It always had been. It's why, in the face of many a board member not so subtly implying that the name was stupid, Jack had insisted on his first step to that idyllic world bearing that name. As soon as he'd realized that he was inside Rhys's head and what he had become, or was, or whatever, then it was obvious. Return to Helios, and there, he'll find his way forward.
So, without his path forward, what did he have left? It wasn't his friends. He'd long since abandoned them or even killed them himself, because they couldn't be trusted. Even a friend was an obstacle if they got in the way of his goals. And, as he continues forward, his expression finally falls. When he reads Angel's name, it's a reminder that it wasn't family either.
He was at the point where all of that was lost to him. He's not sure when that happened, and he doesn't really want to know, either. Maybe it'd been lost for a long time, back when he first realized that he had no option but to keep his daughter away from the world. Maybe it was when the thought had crossed his mind that she could help him, because surely she'd want to do that. Or maybe it was just recently, because was nothing more than a copy of the person who these memories and experiences belonged to. That was hard for him to decide, and much like the when, it's not particularly something he wants to know.
For every day of his life, as she says, he might wonder, if only for a moment. But that moment will always be brief, because it'll always be buried away. Whether it's an excuse, a justification, or a simpler want to not think further on it, it'll never be considered again as much as it is now. Jack can have a realization that strips some of his delusions away so that he has to look at the truth in all of its ugliness, but it'll never stop him from picking up masks to obscure it. Some things can never change.
For now, though, there's not a mask to collect.
It's easy to see how his jaw tenses and his posture stiffens, but it's in a different way from the start. It's subtle, the kind of difference that's hard to put into words, but at the start, it was like Jack had been bursting to try and explain, to let something out, but now, he's keeping something in. "Jack... she was your daughter," and it starts to crack, just a tremble and glassy eyes, but it's as he reads Elizabeth's explanation and experience that it shatters. It's a sharp intake of air, a hoarse, harsh sound, and Jack puts down the letter as he bows his head forward into his hands.
Even with his face obscured, it's easy to see that there's nothing short of anguish on his face, but this isn't the sort of mad, manic energy that he'd shown at Elizabeth's death. It's a true grief, and it's all mixed up so deeply that he couldn't pick it apart even if he had a want to. It's the grief of ambition at the death of his dream, of a hero for moment of doubt where he's truly failed by not making that dream a reality, and most of all, for a father who had lost his only child. The circumstances didn't even matter, because he'd never allowed himself that moment to grieve at all, being promised her life by so many people.
But, he's always selfish.
Because that grief is just as much for the feeling of being alone in this moment and for that realization that all he had was what was here before him.
For once, his pain isn't split by a smile or by a laugh. For a while, and certainly longer than he would personally like, Jack is simply overcome by that anguish of such a great feeling of loss, self-centered as it may silently be. He sobs in a way that's probably uncomfortable to watch, since it's so seemingly strange for a man like Jack, but eventually, he stops. Yet, it's probably no surprise that it seems to exhaust him, because it's only two quickly downed drinks and Jack heads to his bed to essentially pass out. The letter is left laying out, meant to be finished later. ]
[ Jack wakes with a groan the next morning, immediately reaching up to rub at his face tiredly. It's not the alcohol (he's not that much of a lightweight), but simply a heavier weight that has him waking up feeling like shit.
When was the last time he was even that upset? He thinks-- Probably when Angel actually died, but he doesn't remember that. It just seems to make sense. But before that... Jack sighs and pulls at his face as he thinks about it. He can remember being that upset when Moxxi, Roland, and Lilith had betrayed him, but he hadn't had time to express it, really. So before that... God. It had to have been his wife, but that's an intensely unpleasant thought. Luckily, that memory is far too vague for this Jack to even latch onto.
He sits up and runs a hand through his hair, making his bedhead all the worse, but looks over to his desk tiredly. He remembers that he hadn't finished the letter, but goddamn. He's not even sure if he wants to, all things considered. Jack shifts and gets up and instead rubs at his neck, and he mumbles seemingly to himself, but it's clear that's not who he's speaking to. ]
Jesus, kiddo... Didn't pull a goddamn punch, did you? Guess I deserved that, but... Cripes.
[ He groans again, but after a moment's consideration, he goes and takes a seat at the desk again. The way he flops into the chair is tired and heavy, but he picks the letter up again. He flips the letter in his hand, and it's clear that he's really putting off finishing it, but eventually, after a lot of consideration, he just goes back to finish it. There's a twist in his expression as he skims over it again to find where he'd left off, but it's clear that he finds his place again when he sighs.
Though at the very least, the rest is... Easier to get through, which he's glad for. Not without any difficulty, because he murmurs to himself: ]
I'm not a liar, Liz. Not about stuff like this.
[ Maybe part of him had entertained thoughts about how he could clip her wings too, about what Elizabeth could do for him more than who she was, but he hadn't been able to be that distant with her. He'd almost done so when she spoke to him just after she had been exorcised of the alien within her, but speaking more... He knew he couldn't do that. His care is twisted, and it can be too intense for someone else to bear, but it was the sort of care that was surprisingly steadfast all the same. So there's a sting when she questions that, even calls herself a fool for allowing it, because she's right. He doesn't get it, and he never will. Because in Jack's mind, it's not power he's necessarily pursuing. The power was just a piece of a greater puzzle.
And so, the rest of her points, as they had before, fall on deaf ears. Because no matter what, those masks he takes on are an inexorable part of him now. Whatever man Jack might have been where these words could have reached him and made him realize he was wrong-- That man is long since gone. So reading the rest is something bittersweet to him. He knows they'll never come to understand each other, not on this. But he thinks it's because of her, not him.
Though the advice is at least something he can read with a softer expression that looks almost regretful. It's not what he's feeling, not really, but it's what it looks like. In truth, that, along with Elizabeth's faith, just pulls out that part of Jack that's so "heroic," though tired. Jack's drive and ambition are both qualities that people tend to notice about him quickly, and it leads to the very conflicts that Elizabeth has been struggling with. If there's a possibility for something Jack wants, he'll be the one to find it and take it. That's the sort of person he is. But he's also the sort of person to step on the throats of anyone that might be in the way of that goal. So, putting your faith in Handsome Jack... It's a dangerous thing.
After all, he takes it completely seriously.
The letter is folded up, and Jack sits back with a heavy sigh. His arm is brought up to cover his eyes, but not for something painful this time so much as tired. He may portray one thing around others, but of course, privately, he's not untouchable or infallible. Jack laughs, but it's soft rather than something manic or uncomfortable. ]
Saving 'em... Kinda easier said than done.
[ That's breathed out with his laugh, but Jack shifts to stretch before the letter is put back in its drawer and closed. Jack stands and runs a hand through his hair again, but he's smiling thoughtfully now. He seems tired, but certainly not discouraged, which fits with that unreal sort of self-confidence he is. ]
But, hey. If it can be done? I'll do it. So— Just hang tight. We'll figure this out. Promise.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
momijizukamori
1/3 i think
Date: 2016-08-15 04:24 pm (UTC)So, uh— [ He starts awkwardly, since he's aware now that people could be watching him, which is... An odd realization to have. He looks up to the ceiling, though he doesn't even know where he'd be looking to look at-- Whoever could be watching. Jack shakes his head and looks back at the papers. ]
Look, kind of weird to just... talk. Knowing someone is maybe listening? Watching. Jesus. [ He frowns and shakes his head. ] And Rhys, if you're listening, since, who am I kidding, I know you are, just— Christ.
[ He runs a hand through his hair, then leans back in his chair with a heavy sigh. ]
Okay, look. I just know from- from the friggin' picture that I'm... I'm gonna get upset. So, I dunno. Don't... mention it. I have feelings, you said it's not weird, et cetera, just pointing this out because screw you.
[ he's sensitive, aubrey
Which is to say, Jack is rather defensive at the prospect of showing any kind of emotion he perceives as weakness where people might be watching. He makes a discontent noise, but opens the first, crumpled up letter to read it— ]
no subject
Date: 2016-08-15 05:53 pm (UTC)[ It almost sounds like he's psyching himself up to read these, because in a way, he absolutely is. In truth, Jack hadn't been sure that he would be able to read them at all, or at least not for quite a while. There was something in the idea of doing so that, to him, felt like it would be accepting Elizabeth's death. It's irrational, and he even knew that, but there was some kind of insane hope there that it could still be fixed, as if there was just a way he could reach out and defy death.
So, when it turned out that was true? It absolutely made these something he could tackle. Not easily, since the pang of dread seeing Elizabeth floating by the viewport was still fresh, as was his madness not long after. For better or for worse, her contacting him had asserted the latter.
He reads the crumpled letter, and it doesn't take him long at all to smile. "You've shown me nothing but kindness," it says, and that smile is tinged with a distant sadness. It's dated, so he knows when this letter was written, but right away, that line really makes the contrast sink in. He knows that without even having to read the other, since it's been clear since Elizabeth learned about Angel that she wouldn't say this to him. Not anymore.
In fact... There's so much here as he reads that he has to wonder if she would say it at all anymore. That innocence and brightness is so clear in these words that it's almost painful, because ever selfish, Jack's thoughts here turn to himself. He'd noticed how she had changed, since it was hard to miss, but now, having this sharp of a contrast in mind, he can't help but wonder— Had that been his fault, in some way? Surely not completely. The alien, killing her friends, maiming them, that was most of it, he was sure. But still, she speaks so warmly of him here that it's impossible for him to dismiss that possibility, even though he'd certainly like to.
When he gets to the point where the picture is pointed out, he looks to it, since unlike the letters, that's been sitting on his desk. If he could, he would absolutely frame it just as he had the real thing, since it was now precious to him twice-over. But in lieu of that, it simply has its own place of neatness among the organized chaos of the rest of Jack's desk. It sits alone without anything around it, a tiny spot like a shrine among all his work and machinations.
By the time he gets to the end, Jack sighs, and the letter is neatly folded up again to be put back in the desk. ]
Guessing- the rest might, uh. Not apply. But, yeah, I like the drawing. Thanks for...
[ Jack pauses, then takes the time to try and smooth the wrinkles out of the paper before it's set back in the desk. ]
Thanks for not getting rid of it.
i lied this is going to be 4
Date: 2016-08-15 07:04 pm (UTC)He reads, and his smile quirks slightly as he sees that very set of thoughts relayed, but it's short-lived. His posture tightens defensively as he reads, because her words aren't new to start, but just as when she had told him as much in person, there's a defense, an excuse waiting. It is for the greater good, he thinks, it is something to take pride in. Just as he's justified to himself a thousand times before, it's just a lack of knowing his vision. But the mention of Rhys brings back the memory of a video and the beginnings of the realization that had come with it.
It gets that tension to abate, physically, but also mentally. Those excuses and defenses are harder to hold up in that knowledge that if not now, then one day, Helios would be no more. That may seem like the wrong thing to focus on, but for Jack, Hyperion was opportunity. It always had been. It's why, in the face of many a board member not so subtly implying that the name was stupid, Jack had insisted on his first step to that idyllic world bearing that name. As soon as he'd realized that he was inside Rhys's head and what he had become, or was, or whatever, then it was obvious. Return to Helios, and there, he'll find his way forward.
So, without his path forward, what did he have left? It wasn't his friends. He'd long since abandoned them or even killed them himself, because they couldn't be trusted. Even a friend was an obstacle if they got in the way of his goals. And, as he continues forward, his expression finally falls. When he reads Angel's name, it's a reminder that it wasn't family either.
He was at the point where all of that was lost to him. He's not sure when that happened, and he doesn't really want to know, either. Maybe it'd been lost for a long time, back when he first realized that he had no option but to keep his daughter away from the world. Maybe it was when the thought had crossed his mind that she could help him, because surely she'd want to do that. Or maybe it was just recently, because was nothing more than a copy of the person who these memories and experiences belonged to. That was hard for him to decide, and much like the when, it's not particularly something he wants to know.
For every day of his life, as she says, he might wonder, if only for a moment. But that moment will always be brief, because it'll always be buried away. Whether it's an excuse, a justification, or a simpler want to not think further on it, it'll never be considered again as much as it is now. Jack can have a realization that strips some of his delusions away so that he has to look at the truth in all of its ugliness, but it'll never stop him from picking up masks to obscure it. Some things can never change.
For now, though, there's not a mask to collect.
It's easy to see how his jaw tenses and his posture stiffens, but it's in a different way from the start. It's subtle, the kind of difference that's hard to put into words, but at the start, it was like Jack had been bursting to try and explain, to let something out, but now, he's keeping something in. "Jack... she was your daughter," and it starts to crack, just a tremble and glassy eyes, but it's as he reads Elizabeth's explanation and experience that it shatters. It's a sharp intake of air, a hoarse, harsh sound, and Jack puts down the letter as he bows his head forward into his hands.
Even with his face obscured, it's easy to see that there's nothing short of anguish on his face, but this isn't the sort of mad, manic energy that he'd shown at Elizabeth's death. It's a true grief, and it's all mixed up so deeply that he couldn't pick it apart even if he had a want to. It's the grief of ambition at the death of his dream, of a hero for moment of doubt where he's truly failed by not making that dream a reality, and most of all, for a father who had lost his only child. The circumstances didn't even matter, because he'd never allowed himself that moment to grieve at all, being promised her life by so many people.
But, he's always selfish.
Because that grief is just as much for the feeling of being alone in this moment and for that realization that all he had was what was here before him.
For once, his pain isn't split by a smile or by a laugh. For a while, and certainly longer than he would personally like, Jack is simply overcome by that anguish of such a great feeling of loss, self-centered as it may silently be. He sobs in a way that's probably uncomfortable to watch, since it's so seemingly strange for a man like Jack, but eventually, he stops. Yet, it's probably no surprise that it seems to exhaust him, because it's only two quickly downed drinks and Jack heads to his bed to essentially pass out. The letter is left laying out, meant to be finished later. ]
no subject
Date: 2016-08-15 11:19 pm (UTC)[ Jack wakes with a groan the next morning, immediately reaching up to rub at his face tiredly. It's not the alcohol (he's not that much of a lightweight), but simply a heavier weight that has him waking up feeling like shit.
When was the last time he was even that upset? He thinks-- Probably when Angel actually died, but he doesn't remember that. It just seems to make sense. But before that... Jack sighs and pulls at his face as he thinks about it. He can remember being that upset when Moxxi, Roland, and Lilith had betrayed him, but he hadn't had time to express it, really. So before that... God. It had to have been his wife, but that's an intensely unpleasant thought. Luckily, that memory is far too vague for this Jack to even latch onto.
He sits up and runs a hand through his hair, making his bedhead all the worse, but looks over to his desk tiredly. He remembers that he hadn't finished the letter, but goddamn. He's not even sure if he wants to, all things considered. Jack shifts and gets up and instead rubs at his neck, and he mumbles seemingly to himself, but it's clear that's not who he's speaking to. ]
Jesus, kiddo... Didn't pull a goddamn punch, did you? Guess I deserved that, but... Cripes.
[ He groans again, but after a moment's consideration, he goes and takes a seat at the desk again. The way he flops into the chair is tired and heavy, but he picks the letter up again. He flips the letter in his hand, and it's clear that he's really putting off finishing it, but eventually, after a lot of consideration, he just goes back to finish it. There's a twist in his expression as he skims over it again to find where he'd left off, but it's clear that he finds his place again when he sighs.
Though at the very least, the rest is... Easier to get through, which he's glad for. Not without any difficulty, because he murmurs to himself: ]
I'm not a liar, Liz. Not about stuff like this.
[ Maybe part of him had entertained thoughts about how he could clip her wings too, about what Elizabeth could do for him more than who she was, but he hadn't been able to be that distant with her. He'd almost done so when she spoke to him just after she had been exorcised of the alien within her, but speaking more... He knew he couldn't do that. His care is twisted, and it can be too intense for someone else to bear, but it was the sort of care that was surprisingly steadfast all the same. So there's a sting when she questions that, even calls herself a fool for allowing it, because she's right. He doesn't get it, and he never will. Because in Jack's mind, it's not power he's necessarily pursuing. The power was just a piece of a greater puzzle.
And so, the rest of her points, as they had before, fall on deaf ears. Because no matter what, those masks he takes on are an inexorable part of him now. Whatever man Jack might have been where these words could have reached him and made him realize he was wrong-- That man is long since gone. So reading the rest is something bittersweet to him. He knows they'll never come to understand each other, not on this. But he thinks it's because of her, not him.
Though the advice is at least something he can read with a softer expression that looks almost regretful. It's not what he's feeling, not really, but it's what it looks like. In truth, that, along with Elizabeth's faith, just pulls out that part of Jack that's so "heroic," though tired. Jack's drive and ambition are both qualities that people tend to notice about him quickly, and it leads to the very conflicts that Elizabeth has been struggling with. If there's a possibility for something Jack wants, he'll be the one to find it and take it. That's the sort of person he is. But he's also the sort of person to step on the throats of anyone that might be in the way of that goal. So, putting your faith in Handsome Jack... It's a dangerous thing.
After all, he takes it completely seriously.
The letter is folded up, and Jack sits back with a heavy sigh. His arm is brought up to cover his eyes, but not for something painful this time so much as tired. He may portray one thing around others, but of course, privately, he's not untouchable or infallible. Jack laughs, but it's soft rather than something manic or uncomfortable. ]
Saving 'em... Kinda easier said than done.
[ That's breathed out with his laugh, but Jack shifts to stretch before the letter is put back in its drawer and closed. Jack stands and runs a hand through his hair again, but he's smiling thoughtfully now. He seems tired, but certainly not discouraged, which fits with that unreal sort of self-confidence he is. ]
But, hey. If it can be done? I'll do it. So— Just hang tight. We'll figure this out. Promise.