Chapter Text
...swear to the Earth that I will keep it
“Uh, Rhys? Rhys?”
His ECHOdevice is going off, it’s 2am, and Rhys is definitely not ready for it. He fumbles for it in the dark, and once he grabs it he pulls it up to his face. “What? It’s late .”
Vaughn sounds apologetic. “I know, sorry. But ah, your mother called.”
What?
Of all… possible events that could happen to him, his mother finally contacting him is one of the most gut-wrenching, guilt-ridden ones. He didn’t like to think about her precisely for the regret that those thoughts were accompanied with. He sits up slowly. Vaughn doesn’t understand the relationship Rhys and his mother have (or had, he isn’t sure.) So for Rhys, hearing all this was… a lot. Overwhelming, almost.
“Why?”
“I can just connect you tw-”
Rhys waves his hand frantically to get him to stop talking (which isn’t exactly helpful, really). “No, no, not right now! I can’t! Just… tell me.”
A pause. “Be right back.” He hangs up for a few minutes. Rhys leans back on the bed frame. Well, crap. The last time they spoke, they tossed each other words of vitriol and laden with poison. One bad choice after another, and right after that an even worse choice, and after that …
Well, Helios crashed.
...She’s probably so worried. It’s another terrible choice on Rhys’s part, and he covers his face and softly groans. No, he’s not talking to her at this time of night. Sasha snoozes next to him, unaware.
Wouldn’t Ma be happy that he’s alive?
Vaughn calls him, and he picks up. “I’ll talk to her,” Rhys grumbles.
“Good, because I told her that. She’s been trying to contact you since Helios. That’s… all she wanted me to tell you. Although I will say her voice when I told her you were alive wa-”
“Enough.” Rhys is tempted to hang up on him. “That's all she needs to know, right? I’ll talk to her on my own time.”
He’s concerned almost immediately when Vaughn doesn’t respond. It’s dead silent, and then Rhys hears an ‘err…’, so he groans. “What did you…”
“I told her you’d call back in the morning.”
“The hell? Bro, you know that Ma and I aren't on the best of terms right now. Not after I…”
In her sleep, Sasha smacks him.
Vaughn audibly smiles. “I know. I know! I also know you mumbled just now, and that you avoid talking to her out of anxiety, so just… say hello, at least.”
The man looks up at the ceiling and lets out a sigh. “...Fine. There's one thing I have to do to talk to her however. I bet she’ll call you again to contact me, so tell her that if I’m not ready, okay? But I’ll do it tomorrow. I mean, in the morning. For, ah, you Vaughn.”
He doesn’t call her in the morning. He stands at the sink with coffee in his hands instead, yawning. A pro of having one prosthetic hand is that he can hold a piping-hot cup and not get burned. Fantastic! He’s forgotten all about the call, frankly. The whole thing felt like a dream. He’s sure it was a dream.
Pandoran sunrises are quite beautiful. A desert sky explodes into several colors of oranges and blues. The light dances off the plants of the Biodome, creating a dance of colors. Nighttime Rakk fly lazily in circles looking for a place to sleep. Skags call out for their family packs. They’re like roosters, almost. All in all, it’s a very calm time of the day.
Sasha wakes up and antagonizes him a little bit. It's the typical routine. Today she's going to go meet up with Fiona to go track some possible new treasure. Rhys hands her a coffee with a kiss, and soon she's gone for the day.
Later, when the sun is a little higher in the sky, Rhys calls Vaughn.
“Hey, Rhys! You ready to-”
“Damn, Vaughn, I had the strangest dream.” He laughs. “You called me and said Ma had called! Ain’t that something! We haven’t talked in years, I doubt she would even-” The silence on the end of the phone is even more damning than it was at 2am.
“Uh, Rhys? That wasn’t a dream. I actually did call and I can put her on the line and-”
Beep!
Rhys hangs up.
He isn't ready for that.
Rhys, after waking up alone in the ruins of Helios, had grabbed a few objects. The first was the deed to Atlas, making him the newest CEO. The second was his old ECHOeye. The third was a envelope addressed to home.
He had found it while grabbing the deed. It had been tucked away in the corner of the shelf, and while it was slightly burned, he felt it was still readable. Today he looks it over slowly, turning it in his hands as he sits at his desk.
It has no name. He isn't sure who it’s for, but he guesses it's to him. After all, he was the one chosen to host the man’s damn AI program. It is only natural that he would get a letter about it anyway.
Besides, Jack had taunted him with it. Rhysie, this is very important. And you can have it just as soon as you do what I say. At the time, he hadn't known it was addressed to his house.
Screw you, Jack. He still got it. Bitch!
He wants to open this envelope before talking to Ma. But he also wants to open it with Ma. It’s killing him, however, to even have the letter. The curiosity was just… overwhelming. Vaughn calls him again, but all he says is, “Not ready, Vaughn! Give me fifteen minutes!” before disconnecting the call.
If he wants to actually be able to talk to Vaughn without his mother being brought up, he well… he needs to do this. He grabs the envelope and slices it open with a paring knife. A bit of it crumbles away as he pulls the letter out, but he needs to know.
It’s in Handsome Jack’s handwriting. Who else would it be? Strangely, it’s familiar to him. He’s seen this handwriting somewhere else before. He starts to read.
Dear Ms… whatever you call yourself now. Sutton? Parker Sutton. Sorry, I’m gonna call you by what I know.
Ah, so it’s for his mom. It comes off strangely to Rhys, however, as if this was just some formal letter to an employee’s parent, it wouldn’t be phrased it such a casual way. But the more he reads, the more his heart starts to sink.
I finally found you, Morgan.
I know you’re worried about the boy. Rhys is fine. His cybernetics work great, although they required a good portion of his brain to become more mechanical and less biological. No worries. It works perfectly well with his new arm.
How do I know your address? Well, let’s just say a little birdie told me, also called employee information files. I thought you wouldn’t had let him apply after hearing about what I’ve done. But… the real reason why I’m writing this is to gloat. To brag. Ha ha, I got you! I got you good! Even after what you did. Wanna know what I’m so happy about?
He’s more like me than you realize.
Rhys lets out a snort of a laugh. Of course he is. He idolized the damn man! Wanted to be just like him! God, Handsome Jack could be petty.
Every day he proves more to be a Booker than a Sutton. I’ve been keeping an eye on him. He’s done some marvelous, lucrative deals, stepped on some toes, stolen a few salary bonuses here and there… I think he even looks up to me already. Morgan, he’s more me than you no matter how hard you try to keep him from realizing that.
And with his new cybernetics, he’s carrying more in that little brain of his than either of you realize.
Rhys knows the answer to that one all right. This is just petty garbage. He puts the letter down for a bit.
His big question is, how did they know each other? How did Ma know Handsome Jack, and why did Handsome Jack call her a different name?
He wants to stop reading this shit, but Ma always said to finish what you start, and he has to finish. He's almost done.
I win, Morgan. Soon, I’ll take him under my wing, and I’ll mentor him. I’m sure he’d love that. I’ll be the father figure he was meant to have, and soon he will inherit Hyperion, the family business. You’ll see. Our son will be Hyperion’s newest star.
Jack.
Rhys drops the letter.
Oh God, what?
The shock passes quickly enough for Rhys to stumble into the bathroom and glance in the mirror. No… n-n-no way. He laughs. Ma barely spoke of his father. At first she did, but one day she read something in the newspaper and told Rhys to never ask of him again. Rhys, being young and impressionable, listened, although confused.
He stands there staring at himself in the mirror. He wishes he kept a picture of the man for comparison, and Jack’s words from the caravan ride echo in his brain: We’re a lot alike, you and I.
Did AI Jack know?
Why didn’t Handsome Jack use him beforehand then? Or was that why he was selected to host the AI? Why, why, why?
Vaughn calls. “Twenty minutes, Vaughn! I’m having a midlife crises!”
“You’re like twenty tw-” Beep!
He needs… he needs Jack. Jack is the only one who could answer these questions.
Fuck, this is a bad choice. But Rhys is riddled with bad choices. Why not make one more?
Since getting back to the Atlas Biodome, he’s put together a small contraption. He had connected the old ECHOeye to one of the mainframes, did a bit of coding, and then installed some cords for output. The Children of Helios had been glad to offer up any working parts when he asked for them - it always concerns him how much of a god they treat him as. The original goal was to download Jack’s AI into a thumbdrive to hide away, something less easy to lose. Rhys, in the end, couldn’t give up his old hero. He was then planning on restoring ECHOeye functionality using his old one’s programming.
But instead of an old thumbdrive, he was now going to put Jack back in his brain. Because why the fuck not? He didn’t even know if it was going to work, but sadly Rhys’s brain functions on impulsive decisions.
At the machine, he readies the device to transfer the data. The ECHOeye has three programs: the Jack AI, the regular ECHOeye operating system, and the JACK-O-PEDIA. He only chooses to transfer the first two. The Jack AI can't work without the regular ECHOeye program. In many ways, he hopes it doesn’t work so he could forget everything he just read. Maybe he could transfer those memories out of his brain! That would be swell!
The device dings. Time to do it. He rubs his head a bit. He grabs the wire and plugs it into his port.
If it didn’t work, he would jus- Sparks start to fly. He clutches his head as pain sears through it. “Oh, god,” he mutters. Bad idea, bad idea. Bad idea! This is going to kill him! The machine probably isn't ready for this. He squeezes his eyes shut and doubles over.
Seconds pass. He struggles to pull the wire out of his port to reverse the data transfer, but it shocks his hand. But as soon as the electricity came, it goes. It's replaced with a painless static charge before everything stops. Rhys yanks the wire out of his head and staggers backwards.
“I’m not doing that again,” he mutters. This time he doesn't pass out. It reminds him of when he first plugged Nakayama’s ID in, except worse? He hears a static sound behind him, like an old TV turning on, and then a breath.
He doesn't turn around.
“Hey, kiddo, hit your head again like a dumbass?”
