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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
Liar.
Monster.
Two words fill her mind, but she bites her tongue only there - ]
There's a man in my world, Jack. His name is Comstock. [ The name brings her stomach a churn, her own fear - bubbling to the surface. ] He spoke a word that inspired people, inspired a city. Claiming his right as a prophet, he defied logic and created Columbia.
[ This may not interest him, but she has to pan it. ]
I read about him. I read about his triumphs, learned about how his seed was to bring his mission to a climax - to strike down. The Lamb of Columbia would lead her flock.
[ It's difficult to read, but she's nervous. She's trusting him, even now. And she hates it. ]
But lambs like to stray. So he locked her up. He locked her up the moment she was born and nothing... could be done. I didn't meet my Father, Jack, but I've heard the praises they sing. I've seen the wreckage he created.
[ Booker provided her a key when no one else had. When she fell from the sky so desperately only to have Songbird bring her back. To have her stay in her solitude. And for what..? She still doesn't know. There's no answers - that's what hurts most of all. ]
Men like that - who play God - are dangerous. I spoke of such, of how I never touched a human being... felt warmth or see compassion my entire life. A lavish tower with only my thoughts and dreams.
[ Elizabeth needs to watch her tongue, so she speaks very carefully: ]
They say a bird can die in a cage too small. Broken heart, loneliness... I would rather die than be caged again.
[ He has to get that - she's holding out for you, Jack. A small part of her is. The rest? She stares him down. ]
Why didn't you tell me about Angel? When you heard - when you heard my story... saw how I had taken to you - looked up to you - did you feel nothing?
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His reasons are far more selfish, of course. He hears Elizabeth's story, sees how she curls in on herself, and he wonders if this is how Angel felt too. His memories get fuzzier with Angel, though he hates to admit that, but he still has the strongest memories and impressions that the "real" Handsome Jack had for her. He doesn't know the full story of what happened, and there's no one to push the blame onto like Jack had. He doesn't know just how the Vault Hunters play into it, so the very idea that Angel would have killed herself to escape-- There's nowhere to run from that. There's no one to blame.
So, I would rather die than be caged again, she says, and that's what gets that intense gaze to falter. He wonders if he'd made a mistake, briefly, but despite what it may appear, it's not the first time he's questioned that. So just as every time before, the myriad of excuses emerge to make that question disappear. He had his reasons. Even if no one understood them, he'd never cared, but for Elizabeth to not understand them, it means Angel never truly did either. He wants to ask, because for a moment, he's desperate to hear someone confirm that he was justified.
But the thing about monsters, about real monsters like Jack is that if you give them an inch, they'll take a mile. If he had asked the question first, it'd probably turn out differently and reveal his selfishness much more overtly, but Elizabeth beats him to the question. He looks up at her again as she asks about Angel, and his expression shifts. That's the frightening thing about Jack. Nothing he's showing here is disingenious, and yet it's sinister and manipulative all the same. ]
Hey-- [ His voice is soft there, softer than he expects, but that tone hardens quickly when he realizes it. ]
No, Liz, I felt plenty when I heard your story. I mean-- No need to mince words about it now, but you definitely... Absolutely remind me of my Angel. Not just 'cause of, [ He waves his hand vaguely ] this, but you, as a person. But that'd also be really weird to say, one, but two...
[ He trails off and shakes his head. That hand comes to muss through his hair, and his eyes are closed in a difficult expression. It definitely seems to be true that this isn't something Jack generally ever speaks of, if only by how much difficulty he's having expressing himself even when that usually comes naturally. ]
No, let me say first, I wouldn't blame you if you think I'm a monster, kiddo. You wouldn't be the first one. Won't be the last. And I can explain all my reasoning to you, if you want, but feel like that's not really the point. Because, yeah, no matter what, you're right. I kept her locked up. And-- It sounds like you're probably right about how that turned out, in the end.
[ He looks down again, and there's a longer pause before he shakes his head. His voice returns to that softness here that's completely sincere. Though whether that's for Elizabeth or Angel... That's hard to tell. ]
I'm sorry. Guess that's all it amounts to.
no subject
Is this what it would be like when she saw Comstock...? Would she have stared down and fought so valiantly for her feelings? Her gaze can't pull away. She never believed she'd see Comstock eye to eye. To question him for the sins he refused to repent. To ask, oh Father, why me? Elizabeth had always wanted out - she wanted to forget everything (that apple didn't fall far from the tree in the end, did it?). Studying his eyes would reveal his truth. Reveal that she's misunderstanding everything. There's a shred of naivety, hoping and wishing that she could believe in him. Believe in his mission and what they need to do.
But... no.
Elizabeth is projecting. She's thinking of herself. It's impossible not to. Sure, Angel may not have had Songbird - so who did she have? Did Jack visit her? Did Jack assure her she was never alone? Did Jack promise her one day, they'd see the sun together and feel the cool breeze against their skin? She wonders if Comstock ever sat there, thinking of her too.
It brings a pit of confusion in her stomach when Jack begins to speak. ]
I'm not her.
[ Angel isn't... she's not a person right now. She's an ideal. A concept. A representation of everything Elizabeth has been fighting so hard to escape. Captivity. Elizabeth is reasonable to know this: the facts are not all clear. She can't ask: Was she happy? Did she understand her powers? Did you show her nothing but love? - they're fragments that she, without her own understanding of his world, can not piece together. ]
I can save her, Jack.
[ That was unexpected, but she sets the coffee down after a sip, holding onto her own biceps. She feels that every vile thought she has to the man... she has to do something. Keep him stable until she can deal with him - til she can get Angel herself. ]
My powers - if I can... if I can get them working... [ She's stuck on a dream, a wish that will never be fulfilled. ] I've visited the future. I've visited the past. Those concepts mean nothing to me. Mixing peas with porridge is nothing new.
[ She gives more clarity of her powers, hoping this catches his attention. She wants it to. If she can get to Angel, get her out, that would be a good day. If she was able to bring the weapons dealer back, why couldn't she bring Angel back? Against her better judgment, she makes promises that she shouldn't keep. ]
Save your apologies for her. Not for me.
[ She's cold, looking up with a bit of distaste. ]
I don't know what I feel for you. Your motives could be as far off point, but here I am. Still here. Putting my faith in you. [ Jack's honestly one of the only people who can get something done - take action. So... she wants to leash him. She wants to utilize him and here... she feels even more like Comstock than she could imagine. ] I don't know how Angel felt - how she feels in any other universe - but there's one where she can be happy. She doesn't need a monster for a father.
[ But, she has to add on: ]
We don't need another display like last week.
1/2
[ Jack starts to interrupt, frustrated, when Elizabeth says that she's not Angel, but for the rest, he bites his tongue. It's too easy for him to want to speak up now, to want to deny every bit piece by piece, because Jack is already on the defensive. He feels he has to be, since no one ever gets it, but to his surprise, that's not where she ends up taking the conversation. The questions that she wonders on all have a neat, perfect answer, because they're nothing new to Jack. Every question has long since been considered, and he has the answers that make it right. Justified. From his "I love you"s to the way he was always the one to carefully cut her hair for her, he was a father that loved his daughter so much—
And that blinded him. Even now, the most he could ever feel to think his actions were wrong was a very personal sense of loss. It makes his grief genuine, but the nuance makes it sinister. He's selfish in every aspect, and so he stops speaking when Elizabeth unknowingly indulges in it.
His eyes widen in surprise, since he hadn't expected that Elizabeth would ever do something that kind for him now. Jack's eyes fill with open, easily read hope as she explains her powers, though there is a hint of something else. After all, for a moment, he entertains possibility. Perhaps, if she could visit the past and future both, then the Vault-- But, no, that thought is gone as quickly as it comes. It's something tantalizing in itself, but nothing compared to the idea that he could hold Angel again. Or perhaps, technically, for the first time.
Still, in that expression, Elizabeth will probably get a better sense of what makes Handsome Jack such a force that Rhys would both fear and admire him in the same breath. Even without that greedy thought of what more Elizabeth could do for him, there's determination in that hope that's dangerous. There's no question at all that this is a man that would absolutely sell his soul without a thought, so long as what he might gain was something he wanted badly enough. ]
no subject
The confidence fades, and he ends up bowing his head forward as he reaches to run a hand through his hair. He's not sure how to respond, not really, because it's not often that someone stands up to him and he doesn't feel the need to kill them for that kind of defiance. It might mean she has a point, but... He decides he can think on that later. Once Angel is alive again. ]
Yeah, that-- That won't happen again.
[ It couldn't, honestly. No one else has anything that would pull out that kind of rage. ]
Only time I'll be using my gun again? I'll be way more certain that I'm pointing it at one of them.
no subject
She can't redeem those who see no need for repentance. How do you redeem the sinner who sees no sin? In another reality, she knows that he never clasped those shackles on Angel. In another world, she knows she never meets him.
But, she can't. Maybe it's her fading powers, but she can't feel anything for that. With all the doors shut, her answers are guesses at best. Elizabeth spoke with passion and distaste. She feels as if her words betray both Jack and her. She wants so badly to believe this man had reason - had purpose in the longevity of it all. He doesn't. It was his anger that killed Rhys, not his suspicions.
And for that, she can never forgive him.
She's ready to converse on it. He still never truly answers her. He dodges the question like it was a bullet fired from a well-aimed pistol. Elizabeth picks up on the interpretation - it's always been this way, it will never change. The circle will never be unbroken because Jack submits to the fact people will never understand and he's doing what needs to be done.
That doesn't sit well with her.
And it's clear more than ever that he's just like Comstock.
But, he's a means to an end. She knows this. She thinks of the times he comforted her, held her and gave her something that she never knew she needed.
Elizabeth shifts in her seat when he circles it back to their mission - yes. That's the string tying them together now...
But she has to ask: ]
Do you have anything to tell me? Anything you want to get off your chest? I did a lot of talking so it's only fair I allow you your voice as well.
[ It's simple questions, but there's a lot riding on this. ]
no subject
Jack looks to her, though it's brief, since he's looking away thoughtfully almost as soon as she asks. There's a lot he could say. He knows that she's waiting for something he can say to bridge that kind of gap, and always a quick thinker, many things come to mind. But he pauses, because he wants to pick the right one. If there's one of those options that could get her bitterness to fade, that's the one he wants, but ultimately, he doesn't know. Maybe he can't make it fade. Maybe, he's starting to think, he'll never be able to put the words together right so that Elizabeth can understand that there was no other choice.
But if nothing else, he thinks that he would like Elizabeth to understand at least one thing. ]
—She wasn't always locked up.
[ His words are careful as he starts, since this is something that Jack never speaks of. Even people he knows very well, loves, they never hear about this. But that care comes from something else too. Even as Jack thinks on this and how to explain it, there are gaps that he can't fully reach out to grasp. Whether they were never there in the first place or they're just bugs in his programming, it's when he thinks on a subject like this that he remembers most what he truly is. Even so, it's a strange disconnect that he denies at every chance. Objectively he may know he's not Handsome Jack, not truly, he still has so much of what made that man who he was. But still, that disconnect is something he wants to hide, because he feels the objective truth here didn't matter so much as his perception. ]
I dunno if you know about them-- No, probably not. But, there are people in the universe born with powers. Kind of-- I mean, think yours is different, but they can do impossible stuff like it seems like your powers can. It's why I asked about tattoos, actually. Thought for a second you might be one of them. But these people, we call them Sirens. There can only be six of them in the universe at any time, and they're born, not made, kiddo. My daughter, she's one of them. What they can do, it's all different, but-
[ Jack actually laughs here, and though it's short, it's fond. Proud, even. ]
Yeah, kiiiiind of ironic, like the universe is probably laughing its ass off here, but my Angel? Her powers let her work with tech like nothing I've ever seen. I'm amazing with tech, but my little girl, it's as natural for her as breathing. I mean-- I mean, if Angel could get into this station, we'd be en route back to wherever we all wanna go within a minute. Alice wouldn't stand a friggin' chance.
But like I said. They're born. Not made. And incredibly rare, even if they all end up on Pandora for some goddamn reason. So... It's not the kind of thing you find a mentor for. So far-- So far as I can figure, you just gotta learn how to use it yourself. But, I dunno, easier said than done.
[ This is where the story gets hard, clearly, but also... Less distinct. It's just an impression, a set of feelings about an event, but he can't recall them with any detail at all. He doesn't remember what happened, since that memory was never there for him in the first place. ]
Couldn't control it. Angel, she was just a kid. Little kid. And she killed her mom. My wife. I watched, and there was nothing I could do about it. And after? She didn't really understand what she'd done. I-- I don't know if she even really remembered it? But she would ask for her mom. She didn't understand what'd happened. And I tried for a while to just try and make sure it wouldn't happen again, but-- Y'know, I couldn't. I'm just a normal guy, and against a Siren, I've got no chance. So I at least made her a place where she'd be safe from other people, because there are a lot of people that want to get their hands on a Siren. But... also to make sure that my kid wouldn't become a murderer. And, you know, funny thing about that is? I've killed more people than I can count to make sure of that.
But one day, she won't need to stay locked up anymore. I mean, she'd been helping me get to that point where it would be safe for her, and for a hell of a lot of people. At least, well. That was the plan. Sounds like it didn't turn out like that at all in the end.
[ He sits up a bit straighter, taking a large sip of his coffee first. There are parts of the story he leave out, of course. Some of them intentionally, like just how much Vaults play into this story, but others not. It's the extent of his delusion that he doesn't even think about parts of this story: about Angel and Eridium, about the atrocities he'd committed that had nothing to do with it with a smile on his face, and so much more than that. Handsome Jack is the hero of the story, and in the real world, a hero doesn't just gloss over hard choices. In his mind, these don't come up at all, since they're just pieces of pain to pave the way for a greater good. They're irrelevant.
And that's where his charisma is so deep-seated. Even when Jack so obviously shows how insane and unhinged he is, there are the moments like this, the reasons and justifications that make him frighteningly human. ]
So... I just want you to know that. You can disagree. I mean, I'm not gonna lie here, it gets me pretty riled up, because, yeah, hard decision to make. Asshole decision to make. But I had to do it.
[ There's another pause, but this one is longer. Jack truly seems to be thinking over his words here, but when he speaks, they're nothing short of sincere. ]
Family-- That's important to me, Liz. And Angel most of all, because, man, it's the hardest thing in the world to explain, but the way I feel about my kid... It's not like anything else. I love her. With all my heart. And if you're giving me a chance to speak, yeah, that's what I want to get across.
no subject
She never liked coffee, honestly. When she hears that she 'wasn't always locked up', at least, she thinks, Angel had that blessing. Her eyes divert to the coffee, musing as he spoke. His words fall more informative than passionate - at first, she so coldly believes they've been practiced. A plausible defense before brought to trial is always the safest route, is it not? As the coffee's steam swirls up into the air, she can't help but close her eyes. Think. Of Rhys. The first time they met she spilled the stuff all over him and couldn't stomach the smell. He was so cold - so damn bitter like an old cup of the stuff itself.
The word sirens bring a mythical reflection to her. Elizabeth grew up reading books on the subject - the mythology and how the sea-maidens lured men to their doom. The only misconception was it wasn't on their own accord, but by another being. By the God of Sea. It was a story - but how far was it from the truth?
If there's one thing she can offer him, it's silence. She lets his words flow - noting how he stumbles over some, showing an air of being human. Feeling something. There's a few moments where she visibly flinches and shows discomfort. The first was Angel's first accidental murder. The grief was foreign to her. Lady Comstock... her death, to Elizabeth, was an event in history she read about. Not once had she felt the personal attachment so she can't connect on that level.
It's when he admits how many people he's killed that she glances up. It's not judgmental. It's just... she gauges his reaction. Did he sound remorseful? No, she doesn't get that impression. He's like her - he sees a means to an end. She... can't blame him. Not for that.
Not when she allowed Booker to kill Comstock's men to ensure her freedom. ]
It doesn't have to be that way. There's other ways.
[ Elizabeth lifts her hands up, watching as he finishes his last few bits. Family - it would be nice to know what that is, but she never will. She can't imagine it's something that fuels her, especially here. But the way Jack speaks - the way he knows Angel needs to survive, that she's so important that he'll tear the universe apart... it's a scary emotion.
There's a strain, a slight squint of her eyes. It takes a few moments, but something flickers between them. From nothingness became - something. Her breath hitches and a tear rips open between them. The grayscale static more like some... mirror - a possibility that Elizabeth gives Jack. Right now, the tear only shows the parlour - someone too busy pouring themselves a drink. Her fingers curl, holding it open as she speaks when a thin drop of blood drops from her nostril. ]
You help me. I help you. If Angel is dead - I can... I can bring her back. I've done it before. There's other universes, times... if I can harness this again, she's waiting for you. [ She doesn't care anymore. She wants her goals and is willing to sell her soul for them. ] I can't do much more than what I am now. What you see now - but ... I'm trying to train it. It's gotten better. Longer. More relevant.
[ Elizabeth's strain finally shows - her hands snap back and the tear closes with a thunderous warp. A few things on the table between them shifts with the movement, showing that Elizabeth's power... was much like a siren. ]
If what you say is true - if your feelings are genuine... I won't push the subject any longer. There's no 'greater good' by being prisoner, especially to your own family. However, what Rhys said - [ She's not scared to bring it up. ] - the context of it... if I find it to be true...
[ It hurts to say: ]
I'll steal your last breath by my very own fingers.
[ If she finds out Jack's captivity turned her to suicide. The thought makes her stomach turn. ]
1/3...
But he hates it. He hates when people look at him like he's a monster when they know about Angel, because he knows exactly what they're thinking. He's a father that doesn't love his daughter. He's doing something wrong to her, as if he had other choices. So that really is just it. He'll open those wounds again, because at least one person should know just how much he loves his daughter.
Of course, he's not capable of looking outside of his own perception here. He is doing something wrong. Many things wrong. But to his dying breath, he'll never understand it.
So when Elizabeth says there are "other ways," Jack's brow knits together, because he knows he hadn't explained it as well as he'd like. His explanation was supposed to provide that context and understanding to know that he had no other choice here-- But as has been the case in his adult life, things he'd never even imagined have a way of providing new doors. ]
no subject
She must be a Siren or something like that. Jack is so sure of that when he looks at this picture, because even if each Siren's power manifests differently, the impossible becomes possible at their fingertips. It's a complex thing he feels in those brief moments where he looks at the image of the parlor, a mix of desperate hope and vicious ambition, but regardless, he knows this for what it is: possibility. ]
Jesus—
[ He murmurs out that word in wonder, but a moment after, the echoes of her words feel like they're catching up with him. His mind is quick to race, because Jack has always been a quick, decisive thinker, even when faced with the impossible. And boy, does Elizabeth talk of the impossible here. She's talking of other worlds, other universes, a place where Angel is still alive-- And, dangerously, Jack can't help but think that perhaps in one of those universes, his paradise exists. She's waiting for him, Elizabeth says, and he looks to her then even though it takes a great effort to tear his gaze from that portal.
In his gaze, it's clear to see that he believes her. It might be strange, because surely most people would have questions, and yet Jack's belief and trust in what Elizabeth tells him is absolute. Of course there's a universe where paradise exists. There's a universe where he's a hero. Where he's Angel's hero.
And he'll do anything to grasp that reality, even if it's by its very throat. He's just as certain of that too. ]
no subject
He's standing, clearly full of the sort of hopeful energy that makes Jack such a driven, ambitious person, but her threat paradoxically gets him to relax. His hand comes to rest on the surface of the desk, and the other surely would too, if it were there. The transition isn't immediate, but a sort of slow, easy one as that blind excitement cools visibly in how his posture loosens up, how his expression relaxes. His ambition is tempered by her threat, though whether that's a good or a bad thing isn't clear. ]
...Betrayal, that's a hell of a thing, isn't it?
[ It's probably not what she was expecting to hear, and in truth, it's probably very strange, since there's no basis for that topic that Elizabeth would know. ]
Changes you. 'Cause y', y'see, really opens your eyes, makes you more than what you were. And I'm seeing that now, kiddo. You— [ He points at her as he starts to move from around the desk, though the gesture would almost seem threatening with how suddenly calm he is. ] You mean it. Your offer, but also your threat here. And I get it, I do. Because, hell, probably pretty obvious by now, but I've been stabbed in the back so many times that it might as well be the equivalent of a handshake. So, yeah. I'm seeing that in you, now.
[ Jack walks to the bathroom, just stepping inside for a half-second to grab a face towel. He walks to Elizabeth and offers it to her, a kind gesture for the blood dripping out of her nose. But there's almost a weight to it, because his expression is the sort of calm that's dangerous from Jack. Maybe now, for the first time, he's not seeing her as someone he can project his hopes and ideals for his daughter onto. ]
But, hey, friendly advice here, Liz. You don't want to make an enemy outta me. Don't think I need to explain why, in this case. But I'm also not gonna convince you otherwise. That's what you decide? All right. Cool. In that case? I'll give you the challenge that I give everyone out to kill me.
[ Maybe now, Jack is seeing Elizabeth for the first time. ]
Come and get me, Elizabeth.
1/2
She thinks of the way he looked at her when they programmed - how those chocolate strands of hair tucked out of her face as she was so focused on learning more about him. Their moments were shared with both care, frustration, interest and ... she's never had that before.
The thought of it was complex. The feeling of her frustrations for not... being able to help him with Angel sooner - before this entire alien mess - Elizabeth cared about Jack. She put faith and trust into him in the same way she put it in Booker. Elizabeth was sickeningly aware what that meant, what putting herself out there can do. She could make friends who could use that against her. It's life or death - concepts that Elizabeth never had to face. 18 years and it was freedom or the cage. So, the youthful trust she put in Jack once was obvious.
Elizabeth's breath is heavy, a few moments of intensity and she was winded. Her fingers reach up, lightly tapping above her lip to feel the trickle of blood. It was nothing compared, she hears, to the explosion that occurred when she transformed. When that creature moved her around like a puppet.
With the tear gone, Elizabeth sits still - prim and proper like a lady. Like a girl who was in trouble. Truthfully? She is. This course of action - confronting him and conspiring so transparently in front of him. ]
At least I'm not stabbing you in the back if the time comes.
jk 2/3
It's as if the sides of the puzzle pieces were almost perfect but she can see the cracks. The lies, the truths - she's not quite sure which is which, though. Elizabeth watches his movement, feeling the hair on the back of her neck rise with every word. The knot in her stomach tightening and putting her into a situation she very much wished she didn't have to be in.
One day, one day she hopes to understand him. To resolve this feeling or resolve his sin. It's a testament to the gospel she had been taught - repent. Her eyes trail, from the towel, up his wrist to his gaze. ]
You're feeding your own ego, Jack. [ She says calmly, taking the towel and dabbing her nose. ] Killing you won't... fix this. Killing you won't make me feel better anymore than befriending me made you feel closer to Angel. If I had wanted to, I'm sure that creature would have done the job justly.
[ They took her mind, right? They scooped up her hopes and dreams and twisted them against her. The beast had taken over and saw opportunity, but with Jack? There was pain - the confusion of loss and wanting to deeply to believe him. If she wanted him dead... he would be dead.
The blood washes away, leaving a bit of a stain on her nose as she looks to him. Despite how cold her words had been. How much guilt she felt for his maiming - how much she wants nothing more than this girl to never feel what she had felt... those 18 years of thinking she deserved to be imprisoned. Elizabeth doesn't want to kill Jack and she makes that painfully clear when her eyes tear up. When she feels them bud with wetness at his condescending taunt. The sly, tactical words that crack her heart. ]
You're dramatic. [ It's almost a half-hearted laugh, improbable with her emotions. She waves her hand to try and dismiss him, to take away from his dumb cool murderdad moment. ] You see, Jack, I have to tell you something.
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?
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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.
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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.
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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. ]
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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.
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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.