Chapter Text
He’d lost the feeling in his body some time ago. Fully numb and surging with adrenaline, unraveling with every passing second as he attempted to patch the fast travel that she’d jammed. Knowing, intimately, that he’d show up — that he’d burn the goddamn place down, key and all — if it meant getting there in time. It’d been the perfect trap. Luring the Raiders off network, getting the Vault Hunter access — sending them to friggin’ Opportunity — and leaving him effectively trapped on the other side of a screen. His keyboard had shattered against the wall moments before, his hands gripping the display as white knuckles refused to release even as his legs threatened to give out under his weight.
Angel was dead. His baby girl was dead — no, no, no this wasn’t how this was supposed to go.
Loss was not something he was unfamiliar with, and though the sensation had been buried deep within his chest — kept locked away without a key from every prying eye — it was Angel that had made it survivable. Hours turned into days turned into weeks that the girl would lay in bed with him, curled up into a terrified little ball and cry out for her mother, and it had been even longer before the resentment Jack held in his chest had started to loosen enough to feel that desperation himself. From the moment he’d pulled Angel from that bargain basement planet, covered in the bandit’s blood and stray shrapnel — from the moment he’d had to abandon her body to the hoard of psychos, fragile and vacant — that cry, that desperation had been shoved away for the anger out of necessity. Her powers uncontrollable, her nightmares inconsolable, and Jack, left with nothing but sleepless nights and an inordinate amount of time off couldn’t cope with anything else. He was ruined, left to make sense of the void that had been left. He was angry. He was shattered.
And yet, Jack was nothing like this.
His Angel was dead.
And she just… let it happen.
Bright, mismatched eyes stared at the silent monitor. The Raiders gone — gone with the key — and they’d just… left her body there. Making her scream out in agony as they destroyed her supply (of course she’d be begging for death), and left her crumbled over like her strings had been cut, left in their quest for a Vault under the guise of helping a tortured girl. That they were the good guys.
Who not only killed her, but left her there to rot.
“No, no… no, no, no….”
It could’ve been seconds, it could’ve been an hour; truthfully, Jack did not know. Fingers begrudgingly pried themselves from the edges of the monitor, the thick silence enough that he had half the thought to break it himself. Her eyes were glued to his neck — he could feel it — and though she’d said nothing, it was too much, too loud — and Jack nearly said as much when something snapped and his fist collided with the control core screens.
Her words practically echoing in the chamber: you’re an asshole.
Again and again and again.
“She’s — not going — to die — like — this!” Blood and bruises instantly coated his knuckles, unable to stop even as the screen flickered out, throat too raw to even register if he was saying anything or if his voice had vanished with her. “At the hands — of a — goddamn filthy Bandit!” Gun pulled effortlessly from the holster, shooting the broken display — once, twice — before chucking the weapon across the room, not bothering to track where it clattered to the floor. Chest heaved as he paced, pulse pounding in his ears, vomit nearly in his throat as slowly — then all at once — that desperation morphed back into that all too familiar anger and Jack’s entire face glazed over, rooting to the ground.
He felt the step closer, and Jack shot out a hand, quietly clearing his throat as he quickly attempted to stitch himself up.
They had work to do. There wasn’t time for — for whatever this was going to be.
“I’ll get Lilith. And the key. And kill every last one of them, one by one.” His head turned over his shoulder, though eyes did not raise, jaw impossibly tight as he clung to those last dregs of sanity threatening to slip away. He didn’t recognize his own voice — he didn’t need to — but Jack just stared at the remains of the screen (she was dead. How the hell was she dead?), face tucked away from hers as logic attempted to piece together what the shit had just happened.
And then he looked, silver eyes meeting his, and Jack wasn’t certain she was still standing there or if it was his mind searching for whatever anchor he could. Because surely she would have left. Probably should have left.
But she stood there, the other side of the room, clearly wanting to approach but unsure how, and Jack just squared his jaw, willing away the searing pain in his eyes. “Come on. We’ve got a date to keep with the Warrior.” Mercifully, his legs moved — one by one — and he carried himself to the door, Tyreen close on his heels as he pushed out of the room and into the empty penthouse.
“Jack…” she’d started, but his hand waved her off, immediately fumbling instead for his ECHO and dropping it onto the counter.
“Leave it. I’ll — send a crew to go get her. It’ll be a walking target once they get organized, so getting her out is — first. But they’ll be passing the key off to Tannis to figure out how the hell to charge it, who is mind-numbingly easy to trap. But first things first —” Fingers shaking as he stripped off his jacket, dropping it on the floor as he pulled up to broadcast when her smaller hand closed firmly on his bloody wrist and his eyes shot up to her, something deadly lingering in his gaze. She stared back, though, unmoving, and Jack didn’t push her off (hell, he didn’t move) as he waited for whatever the hell she was about to say.
The God Queen didn’t speak, though, or perhaps she knew better (maybe she couldn’t) and Jack jerked his hand away, practically launching himself backwards into the counter to get space. “Don’t — whatever you’re gonna say right now, just — don’t. This is about my daughter. Mine. And the Vault— I know what I’m doing.”
“You’re right. You do.” It was void of her usual sing-song, a little too raw for either of their comfort, and the honesty that lingered between them was overshadowed only by the unspoken threat that hovered underneath it all. Jack’s fingers twitching at his side — disarmed, but ready to snap — and Tyreen shoving the ECHO back across the counter to carefully walk around the island. The anticipated monologue (don’t let your emotions cloud this, focus on the Vault, we’ll make them pay, you’re better than this, she wanted to die) never came, and the closer she grew the more tense he became, not realizing he had backed himself into the corner of the kitchen until head hit the back of the cabinet.
“What the — stop. What do you even think you’re doing? What can you possibly say — You have no goddamn idea—”
And just like that, gloved hand found his face and Jack’s tongue failed, staring down at her in too-thick silence as the God broke through the facade, the rage he’d cloaked around him like armor faltering the longer she remained. The longer she didn’t bolt. The longer she stared up at him, the longer she just stayed quiet in the only way she knew to ground him. His eyes search her, his shield chipping away as the anger fell to the pit of his stomach in exchange for the sorrow he refused to own.
He didn’t know if it was her, if it was him, or if it was his legs, but Jack slid down to the tile floor. The monarch fell well with him, still at his side, and Jack had to look away to keep his composure. Silent for a moment too long, unable to look anywhere as voice rose in his throat, almost entirely emotionless as he said, “I should have let her go.”
The scared little girl curled up in his bed, desperate for control of her powers, desperate for her mom, laid dead in a machine of his own making, leaving him destroyed in every parting way she could. “You were right, I should… I should have let her go.”
Injured hand raised to his face, roughly wiping it clean of emotion, leaving a trail of blood behind in his wake.
“I’m fine.” It was meant to sound short, final, but his voice broke and he couldn’t hide his own shock on his face, forcing a shuddering breath as he turned to face Tyreen, unsure when his hands found her legs. What could he possibly say?
Was she even going to stay?
“It — I’m fine, Tyreen.” Gaze searched her, fingers stretching out the certainly fractured hand at his side. “We don’t have time to waste.”