[ Jack nods understandingly, but it turns to a short, soft laugh as she asks if something happened. There's a silence between them that lingers quite a bit longer than normal. Whatever it is, that silence makes it clear that it's something that weighs heavily on Jack, but the silence itself is largely for Jack to be able to collect his thoughts here. It's both been on his mind and not at all, because every time he's thought back to what he'd been shown, to what he experienced, he pushes the feeling away.
He half wants to reach out to hold her hand again, as if that would help him to explain this, but-- Something about that feels wrong now. The very fact that it feels wrong is what gets him to start speaking. ]
Liz— That thing? It-- I don't know. It's hard to explain, 'cause it was like the same kinda shit Alice did to me. One second, you're yourself, the next, you're... It's like watching from a stage. You're seeing a scene play out before you. You're seeing it like, like you weren't a part of it at all? I—
[ He runs his hand through his hair, but his head bows forward slightly with the motion. It's almost like he's hiding his face from her. ]
Look, I- I actually always wanted to be a dad. Which, yeah, I know, friggin' weird for guy like me, ha ha, heard it a million times. But y- y'see, my family was shit. Never knew my dad, mom dumped me off with grandma, and you and every-goddamn-one saw what grandma was like. So always thought if I had a kid of my own, I'd never treat them the way my family did me. God, I— [ He laughs, but even at this point, it's clear to hear the pain in his voice as he rambles. ] The day Angel was born... That was the happiest day of my life. I'd never felt that kind of immediate love, and I don't think anyone but a parent can. Just looking at her face, I knew I'd do anything to make sure she'd be happy.
[ He sighs out a heavy breath, but it's shaky as his head dips further into his hand. ]
That's... That was the problem, I guess.
[ With that, Elizabeth might get a sense of what point Jack is meandering towards, and as such, it's clear why he's taking such a winding path to get to it. ]
Because— [ Jack laughs, but it edges on unhinged, though the laugh itself is soft and distant. ] Because it was-- It must have been how you felt, kiddo. When you heard Rhys saying all of that? When you heard me explain? I watched, god, I watched everything I, I'd done to Angel, but it wasn't... I always knew what I was doing, but this time, it was like I was a stranger. Just seeing things for what they were. It's why my wife, why you, why everyone—
[ He gets more frantic as he continues, but he breaks off abruptly with the beginning of another syllable, but it's because as he tries to explain, he remembers one part in particular. Every justification he had could be built back up in the face of what the Queen had shown him, surely, because it was still true that perhaps people didn't understand. But the reason he couldn't was just one small event in particular. It was just a little girl crying as she clung to her father, asking when she could go home. Jack had remembered how his heart ached as it did every time Angel cried, how he embraced her warmly to comfort her, and how she hugged him in return with her small arms when he'd soothed her.
But as a stranger, without his ego, he realized it for what it was. "This is your home now, baby," he'd said, and for the first time, he'd seen the fear on Angel's face. She'd never complained. She never tried to defy him. Because just as he had been of his grandmother, she was afraid. She'd always been afraid. But he'd never been able to see it, because every justification was something so neat and so perfect that surely, he hadn't become what he feared the most.
He starts again, but his voice is thick by now. ]
You—
[ Jack looks up at Elizabeth with a smile, but it's not the kind of smile that seems to suit Jack's unwavering confidence in himself. It's not just sadness on his face, but from his expression alone, the reason he'd wanted to tell Elizabeth this at all is clear. It's not the sadness of grieving for his daughter. It's the despair of understanding that what he had done to her was wrong. ]
You were right, Elizabeth. You were always right, but I— I couldn't see it.
[ At this point, there's another surprise, because tears start to spill over from his glassy eyes, but this time, he makes no effort to hide it. He's not sure why, really. He doesn't have to share any of this with Elizabeth. It truly wasn't as if he would find any solace or comfort in it. But perhaps... Perhaps part of him is hoping that by telling her, he can convey what he can no longer express to his daughter. ]
She's not just dead because of me. She— God, I never gave her the chance to live in the first place.
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He half wants to reach out to hold her hand again, as if that would help him to explain this, but-- Something about that feels wrong now. The very fact that it feels wrong is what gets him to start speaking. ]
Liz— That thing? It-- I don't know. It's hard to explain, 'cause it was like the same kinda shit Alice did to me. One second, you're yourself, the next, you're... It's like watching from a stage. You're seeing a scene play out before you. You're seeing it like, like you weren't a part of it at all? I—
[ He runs his hand through his hair, but his head bows forward slightly with the motion. It's almost like he's hiding his face from her. ]
Look, I- I actually always wanted to be a dad. Which, yeah, I know, friggin' weird for guy like me, ha ha, heard it a million times. But y- y'see, my family was shit. Never knew my dad, mom dumped me off with grandma, and you and every-goddamn-one saw what grandma was like. So always thought if I had a kid of my own, I'd never treat them the way my family did me. God, I— [ He laughs, but even at this point, it's clear to hear the pain in his voice as he rambles. ] The day Angel was born... That was the happiest day of my life. I'd never felt that kind of immediate love, and I don't think anyone but a parent can. Just looking at her face, I knew I'd do anything to make sure she'd be happy.
[ He sighs out a heavy breath, but it's shaky as his head dips further into his hand. ]
That's... That was the problem, I guess.
[ With that, Elizabeth might get a sense of what point Jack is meandering towards, and as such, it's clear why he's taking such a winding path to get to it. ]
Because— [ Jack laughs, but it edges on unhinged, though the laugh itself is soft and distant. ] Because it was-- It must have been how you felt, kiddo. When you heard Rhys saying all of that? When you heard me explain? I watched, god, I watched everything I, I'd done to Angel, but it wasn't... I always knew what I was doing, but this time, it was like I was a stranger. Just seeing things for what they were. It's why my wife, why you, why everyone—
[ He gets more frantic as he continues, but he breaks off abruptly with the beginning of another syllable, but it's because as he tries to explain, he remembers one part in particular. Every justification he had could be built back up in the face of what the Queen had shown him, surely, because it was still true that perhaps people didn't understand. But the reason he couldn't was just one small event in particular. It was just a little girl crying as she clung to her father, asking when she could go home. Jack had remembered how his heart ached as it did every time Angel cried, how he embraced her warmly to comfort her, and how she hugged him in return with her small arms when he'd soothed her.
But as a stranger, without his ego, he realized it for what it was. "This is your home now, baby," he'd said, and for the first time, he'd seen the fear on Angel's face. She'd never complained. She never tried to defy him. Because just as he had been of his grandmother, she was afraid. She'd always been afraid. But he'd never been able to see it, because every justification was something so neat and so perfect that surely, he hadn't become what he feared the most.
He starts again, but his voice is thick by now. ]
You—
[ Jack looks up at Elizabeth with a smile, but it's not the kind of smile that seems to suit Jack's unwavering confidence in himself. It's not just sadness on his face, but from his expression alone, the reason he'd wanted to tell Elizabeth this at all is clear. It's not the sadness of grieving for his daughter. It's the despair of understanding that what he had done to her was wrong. ]
You were right, Elizabeth. You were always right, but I— I couldn't see it.
[ At this point, there's another surprise, because tears start to spill over from his glassy eyes, but this time, he makes no effort to hide it. He's not sure why, really. He doesn't have to share any of this with Elizabeth. It truly wasn't as if he would find any solace or comfort in it. But perhaps... Perhaps part of him is hoping that by telling her, he can convey what he can no longer express to his daughter. ]
She's not just dead because of me. She— God, I never gave her the chance to live in the first place.