![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
week 8 | monday morning (super early)
[ Elizabeth doesn't think Jason needs to know why she left his room. It was... PG 13, okay. Nothing happened, but she definitely requested to stay in his room after a few nightmares plagued her. He was one of the few people she could trust and after his last adventure? She's keeping an eye on him when he can't.
HA.
Anyway.
Elizabeth had foregone her pajamas, dressed more for the rest of the day. She's stealthy, waiting for anyone who passes her to go on. She's by Jack's room, a sturdy knock without announcing herself.
It had to still be odd. She looked older - tormented by her own guilt with her hair cut short and skin more exposed. This wasn't the little girl he had saw so much "potential" in. ]
HA.
Anyway.
Elizabeth had foregone her pajamas, dressed more for the rest of the day. She's stealthy, waiting for anyone who passes her to go on. She's by Jack's room, a sturdy knock without announcing herself.
It had to still be odd. She looked older - tormented by her own guilt with her hair cut short and skin more exposed. This wasn't the little girl he had saw so much "potential" in. ]
no subject
I didn't have anyone besides -... ... There was -
...His name was Booker DeWitt.
[ She's brought the name up once or twice, but he needs to know the content. Her eyes look down to her hand, curling her fingers as if getting the blood working once more, feeling them flex tightly. The woman was not going to gush about the man who saved her, but she needs to bring him up, like that's the only way to ensure he's still alive. Still safe.
So she gazes back to Jack, smiling a little. No, not in some arrogant or all-knowing way. She looks happy. For the first time she cut her hair, she truly looked happy. ]
He's the one who got me out of the tower. A man who had his own personal demons. I didn't look a gifthorse in the mouth or did I ever truly thank him but.
[ She's not as sheltered as she's lead to be believed. ]
He slaughtered men to ensure my safety. To ensure - even if his reasons were selfish - that I would be alright. I've seen men gunned down, their faces bashed beyond recognition and - [ Her words grow soft. ] picked to death by the beaks of birds. All to protect me. And I let him.
[ She slumps her shoulders a bit, still not quite comfortable with that concept. To know Booker bloodied his hands further to get her out of Columbia. Her voice was raspy, exhausted and truly unsure of if he'll get the impact of her words. ]
We're all carrying sin, Jack. When I die - [ She says it matter of factly. ] I know my judgment will be there.
[ It's a warning - one that is far more ominous than her previous words. ]
But there's ways to make it right. Don't... don't let your sin drown you.
no subject
Ultimately, the person before Elizabeth isn't who he's presenting himself as. Not really. He's a program made to copy the real thing, and so there's natural nuance lost. It's impossible to recreate an entire person's psyche, even though this AI was certainly a technological marvel that was very close to such a feat. He's made up of memories written in data, of impressions of feeling and sensation that he'd never truly felt, and so in that, the AI truly believes himself to be Handsome Jack, even in the face of the objective truth that he's not. Like a hero from an epic, he was simply the next stage, the grand return from death, because a true hero wasn't meant to be cowed or stopped.
And yet, he's always partial. Incomplete.
There's a nuance here that's missed, because for all of Jack's bravado, these words would be posturing from the real man. Daring someone he cares about to challenge him is a convenient fix, since it's a way for him to close off and compartmentalize how he feels about them. If they want to kill him for what he's done, then so be it. He'll be their enemy. But it's also that man's way to ask without ever having to admit his perceived weakness that he doesn't want that path. For Jack, this sort of posturing was meant to be the last outstretched hand.
But for the AI, Elizabeth is right. It's his own ego, because that was the way Jack always wanted this kind posturing to come off. "Defy me, and I'll kill you," not "think about what you're doing, since I don't want you to be my enemy." The words that the AI speaks are all correct, but his reasonings for saying them are a shadow of the man that would say them. People are never so simple that a lifetime of experience that shapes every decision could be converted into code. It's a small nuance because of the brilliance of who made him. In fact, it doesn't change the course of the conversation. But— ]
Mean something?
[ The posturing drops quickly in surprise so sharp that it would almost be like she'd struck him. Insulting and teasing him is expected, as is that fiery, almost hateful (so far as he sees) it gaze. Even her tears don't move him, because he's the sort of monster that will stare into the eyes of someone begging for their life and torture them to death. That's the frame of mind he's moving into here. That is why being Handsome Jack's enemy is so dangerous.
But, she doesn't take the path he expects, and so that track that he was starting to head down in his mind shifts. He says nothing more, only listens as she explains her freedom and the cost that it took to grasp it. It's not what he expected at all, in the end. He's seen her as so innocent that it sparks a sort of fatherly instinct in him, but-- He was mistaken, at least partially. He recognizes that, and again, that idealistic image of Elizabeth starts to be stripped away.
It's not a bad thing, though. He's seeing her as a person, not an ideal. So for Jack, that's both a far better and far worse place to be. For Jack to truly see you as a person, it means you matter to him, for better and for worse. It's never simply an "or" with him. Her story gets the bravado to shift away, like you can see how her words sink in to him as a physical thing. ]
Elizabeth...
[ He says her name softly, still showing his surprise openly. There's a certain tone to his voice that makes it clear. He accepts her words, because how could Jack not? Even as impressions, the surprise of this acceptance is meaningful.
—But.
The meaning in them is what makes that difference in the nuance much more distinct than any failing in the program otherwise. It may not matter at all. Or it may eventually lead to this Jack doing something that the other would not.
So, which will it end up being?
It'll probably be quite a while before Elizabeth finds out the answer.
The undercurrent goes unnoticed, because Jack steps forward, pauses, hesitates, then so long as she lets him, he'll take a seat on the couch next to her. There's space left between them, but the point is that he's not standing over her, and there's not a desk as a barrier between them. ]
You've gotta be shitting me. You're—
[ He pauses again, uncertain, then runs a hand through his hair, like her statement unsettles him or makes him nervous. He's trying to pick out what to say here, but it ends up being brief, though not simple. ]
No, you're-- You're not actually trying to screw me over here. You're actually, what, concerned? About something like that?
no subject
Elizabeth fully anticipates her life on the line. She anticipates that one moment of clarity where Jack snaps. If his temper was any indication and his actions towards Rhys - she could very well be on the receiving end of a bullet. It's just common sense to her. She wants so badly to believe the good in people, to believe that mankind was not doomed to give into this.
She looks at him with true sadness on her face, but it's not for him. It's for what may need to be done. She looks down at her hands, the strange amputated pinky covered in her thimble. Without her powers, she can't feel it - that weird... sense that everything will be alright. She'll be alright and selfishly, it scares her. Elizabeth doesn't want to be some hero - she wants to do good. Do Good and your heaven awaits you, is what she was taught. Be fearful of God and he will welcome you personally.
She's afraid.
Jack represented so much to her that she feels the choice wasn't as clear as she wants. If she knew it was for the good of the ship, she would stab him right now in cold blood. Her father's blood ran through her veins - why not on her hands?
But... she wasn't sure. His mission - as far as she knows - relies aligned with hers. Resigning herself to the fact they must work together, so she gets her selfish revenge on those monsters that used her as some puppet. Some husk to enact their evil. Elizabeth's words were truthful: she wanted sin to be absolved. His sin.
He sits down and she looks to him, her hand hovering over her thigh, barely pressing her palm down to where her secured scissors remain. Just a precaution. By noting his reaction, she feels as if she said something wrong - as if he saw through any words she had for the immediate ill-intent. ]
My beliefs are my own. My faith in God may waver at times, but it's - it's hard to explain. The Book tells you to do good and God will forgive you, to wash away the sins on your hands as long as you're looking to repent. [ She knows that gods and God were two different aspects now - many of them different than her own. Her voice sounds grim, knowing that eventually... there will come a time - ] I hope when I die, I can find freedom in His heaven. I wish the same for you. That's all.
[ But for him? She looks to him, noting the changes in his expression. Trying, so deeply to understand why. Why was he like this? How could have done something so heinous without a reason? Rhys was not going to die in vain and she refuses to dismiss it. ]
If you would like to cast your doubt on me, it's your prerogative. I can't wipe away your sins. I can't fix this [ VAGUE HAND GESTURES. ] - but I can care about you. Even if your actions - I hate them - I don't think it's too late for you to get your personal heaven.
no subject
And especially not when Jack laughs as he listens to her.
It's strange to hear words like this, because he understands their context and knows where they come from, but it's also like hearing something completely foreign. Religion has its place, and there's religion steeped in the way he talks, but he has very little belief. Belief in God, in sin, in the afterlife, it never quite suited him. And it certainly didn't suit him as he was now. Her words ring a bit hollow as a result, because the urgency she feels for belief isn't something that Handsome Jack ever felt. The extent of his wondering was his certainty that if there was something beyond, his place would certainly be below rather than above. He at least had the self-awareness for that, if not much else. ]
That's— I dunno. Surprising? I guess it's surprising.
[ He sounds uncertain, then reaches up to run a hand through his hair as he bows his head forward slightly. Which, his hair is definitely a mess by now with how many times he's done this, just an observation. ]
Y'wish the same for me, but... Kiddo, I'll be honest. Not that I have any problems with that, don't get me wrong, but, hey, I know the shit I've done doesn't exactly get you a ticket into heaven. 'Cause that's the deal. I'm not the kinda guy that wants to die to get to paradise. I'll bring it here with my own two hands. My personal heaven-- I'm gonna make it.
[ His brow knits together slightly, and he exhales a frustrated noise, like he's having trouble finding his words or expressing himself. Jack wants to reach out, to place his hand over hers as a gesture of sincerity, but he holds back. She doesn't trust him enough for that. He knows it. Whatever is on her thigh is proof enough of that. ]
—Okay. Probably kind of got off point there. Definitely. But what I want to get at, just to be blunt? ...Thank you. That's-- If you can care about me, then that's, well. It's a lot. I know that's not easy to give, 'specially when you hate what I've done, but. Means a lot, Elizabeth. That's what I'm trying to say here.
no subject
He speaks and she shows the respect to him by keeping shut. Her rambles contained with a tight-lipped state. Religion was important to her, mainly because she's so eager to disbelieve it. Yet... everything she read tied back to it. Comstock's prophecies, God's word - they were the same thing to most and only she could tell the difference.
She realizes too late that her words were motivational - not to redeem the sinner but to give him ambition to prove God wrong. Her stomach hollows and all she can do is smile. Her bottom lip trembles only slightly. Stupid, Elizabeth... stupid. She thinks to herself. She made him promises, sold her soul with this alliance for her own personal vendettas. To make sure no one feels as violated as she had. Give the woman a chance to believe and she truly believes he can change - at least, with his last breath, see his fading heaven.
Elizabeth smiles awkwardly, waving him off as if trying to hold back her tears. He sees how much her eyes swell with red, her lip trembling. ]
Please don't make me regret this, Jack. I don't want to go back to - [ She stammers, stiffening her emotion a bit more. She can't cry, she's not a girl anymore. ] I don't want to wish to have never left my tower. Please, please don't make me regret trusting you.
[ She will. Or he will. Either or. ]
no subject
People believed that he would bring paradise. He believed it. It wasn't something to fear, so why does Elizabeth look so afraid? ]
Woah, hey, hey...
[ Despite knowing better, he's too physical of a person, and he moves without really thinking here. He reaches out with his hand towards her face, since it's the sort of automatic gesture that comes with seeing her eyes fill with tears. ]
I'm not-- Listen.
[ Whether she rejects that touch or not, he pulls his hand away regardless, though it's with a frown. ]
Regardless of anything else? So far as I'm concerned, you're on my team, Liz. I look out for my team, okay? So-- So you're not gonna regret it. I... [ He pauses uncertainly, still seeming slightly confused by why she's upset, but when he speaks again, it's with much more certainty. ]
I don't want you to regret it. Trust me on that, at least.
no subject
I'm fine - this conversation is just a lot harder than I imagined. I'm sorry. [ Instinctively, she apologizes as if it's her fault. From their previous conversations - how she's taken blame for so much... it's not farfetched to be believed that she is apologizing for her emotions. ] I have my answers, you have yours.
[ She can't pull away. He can feel a stray tear or two on his thumb but he feels her warmth quite easily. She's not in hysterics as she forces a weak-willed smile on her face. Elizabeth sees a man who saw nothing wrong with anything. She wondered if that's how Comstock would have looked at her too from behind the glass of her tower? ]
We have a task to accomplish. We have to find these - these things before it's too late.
[ Her hand goes up to his hesitantly, clutching onto the back of his hand to give it a convincingly reassuring squeeze. Elizabeth's had sadness in her eyes her entire stay here - it wasn't anything new. ]
I have my faith and that will get us through. [ Whatever it may be. Her fingers drag from his and she stands, looking around as if she overstayed her welcome. ] I'll... I'll let you get back to your task. I'm sorry for burdening you with this conversation, but I needed to know. I - ...I just needed to.