[ In truth, Elizabeth is probably the only person that will ever hear this confession.
It's not for any malicious reason, but it's not as if the truth of why is much better. It's the sort of painful humanity that makes Jack so complicated a person for people to deal with. There's so much madness and unforgivable evil in who he is, and truly, it's beyond anyone's ability to drag him out of that. But there are glimmers like this where the man he was shines through like a false hope that he could appear again. It would be easier if Jack didn't want to ever share this again because withholding that information was manipulative. Instead, it's simply genuinely agonizing for him to do so.
As soon as Elizabeth accepts his words in some way, that's almost like some kind of sign he almost seemed to be waiting for. Her hand comes up to his face, and Jack is quick to grab her wrist, but it's not quite to pull her hand away. There's a light tremor in his hand, shaky because of whatever he's still trying to hold back here, but he still closes his eyes under her touch all the same. He's vulnerable in a way that he lets very, very few people see, but for better or for worse—
He trusts Elizabeth with this. ]
Liz, I-
[ He starts to interrupt, because it's rare for him to not get a word in, but that seriousness inherent in her grip quiets him. His eyes stay shut for a few moments as she speaks, and his expression twists up into some reflection of whatever complicated, messy emotions he's feeling, but it doesn't last long. His eyes open again as she pulls him closer, but he hesitates briefly at how she holds him. It strikes him as strange, backwards, because he so badly wanted to be the one providing this sort of comfort. It always made him feel good when people relied on him so, but he never quite allowed the opposite for himself. In truth, no one could quite handle shouldering Jack's sins, since they were far too numerous and so, so many were beyond his view in the first place. But for this one?
He listens to her verse, and talk of wrath and anger are when he clings back. Maybe that's just a coincidence, or maybe he understands himself well enough to know that it was these two things that twisted him up so much worse than other emotions. His wrath would cover Pandora in fire for the slights of a few, and his anger would leave innocent people dead whose only crime was standing against him. And to those, he was still blind. Yet even so, Jack returns the embrace. His arms wrap around Elizabeth so tightly that it might almost make it hard to breathe, because he's strong, but he's clinging to her with a desperation as if she were some sort of anchor for what he was feeling.
And that was-- Still complicated to him. It's muddy and confusing in a way that's difficult for him to parse through, because even if he feels such guilt and pain over what he'd done, there's still that one part of him whispering about a dissonance. It wasn't truly him, so maybe he had no right to be upset about this in the first place, but that disconnect is something he hides from even more than most of his illusions about himself. So, it probably doesn't matter, he decides. The pain he feels is real enough, and while he doesn't express the sort of raw, open grief that he had when he had read her letter, it's still here in some capacity.
Jack holds her for a long time, probably as long as she'll let him without it being weird. He's quiet, not saying hardly anything at all, but there is at least one thing said just softly enough for her (or perhaps not her at all) to hear: ]
no subject
It's not for any malicious reason, but it's not as if the truth of why is much better. It's the sort of painful humanity that makes Jack so complicated a person for people to deal with. There's so much madness and unforgivable evil in who he is, and truly, it's beyond anyone's ability to drag him out of that. But there are glimmers like this where the man he was shines through like a false hope that he could appear again. It would be easier if Jack didn't want to ever share this again because withholding that information was manipulative. Instead, it's simply genuinely agonizing for him to do so.
As soon as Elizabeth accepts his words in some way, that's almost like some kind of sign he almost seemed to be waiting for. Her hand comes up to his face, and Jack is quick to grab her wrist, but it's not quite to pull her hand away. There's a light tremor in his hand, shaky because of whatever he's still trying to hold back here, but he still closes his eyes under her touch all the same. He's vulnerable in a way that he lets very, very few people see, but for better or for worse—
He trusts Elizabeth with this. ]
Liz, I-
[ He starts to interrupt, because it's rare for him to not get a word in, but that seriousness inherent in her grip quiets him. His eyes stay shut for a few moments as she speaks, and his expression twists up into some reflection of whatever complicated, messy emotions he's feeling, but it doesn't last long. His eyes open again as she pulls him closer, but he hesitates briefly at how she holds him. It strikes him as strange, backwards, because he so badly wanted to be the one providing this sort of comfort. It always made him feel good when people relied on him so, but he never quite allowed the opposite for himself. In truth, no one could quite handle shouldering Jack's sins, since they were far too numerous and so, so many were beyond his view in the first place. But for this one?
He listens to her verse, and talk of wrath and anger are when he clings back. Maybe that's just a coincidence, or maybe he understands himself well enough to know that it was these two things that twisted him up so much worse than other emotions. His wrath would cover Pandora in fire for the slights of a few, and his anger would leave innocent people dead whose only crime was standing against him. And to those, he was still blind. Yet even so, Jack returns the embrace. His arms wrap around Elizabeth so tightly that it might almost make it hard to breathe, because he's strong, but he's clinging to her with a desperation as if she were some sort of anchor for what he was feeling.
And that was-- Still complicated to him. It's muddy and confusing in a way that's difficult for him to parse through, because even if he feels such guilt and pain over what he'd done, there's still that one part of him whispering about a dissonance. It wasn't truly him, so maybe he had no right to be upset about this in the first place, but that disconnect is something he hides from even more than most of his illusions about himself. So, it probably doesn't matter, he decides. The pain he feels is real enough, and while he doesn't express the sort of raw, open grief that he had when he had read her letter, it's still here in some capacity.
Jack holds her for a long time, probably as long as she'll let him without it being weird. He's quiet, not saying hardly anything at all, but there is at least one thing said just softly enough for her (or perhaps not her at all) to hear: ]
I'm so sorry.