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Everyone who glanced at his true self would define him as clear water who reflected as many natures as there were people in the world. To some he was both good and evil, to others he was neither. Jack himself was infinitely better at figuring others’ natures and feelings than even trying and looking into his own.
And so, he honestly didn’t know what was Oz to him. He might have thought of him as an intimate friend who shared the loneliness of his own body for nearly a century, that he could as well be family by this point. He might have thought of him as a tool whose feelings didn’t matter and who served no further goal than bringing him closer to Lacie’s wish.
He would loom over him protectively and drive away his enemies with the B-rabbit’s power, and he couldn’t tell if he wanted to protect him or if he simply wanted to get back that destruction power he so needed. He would hug him tenderly as would a loving friend, careful not to break him, while whispering horrors that could serve no other purpose than actually breaking him. He would take the gentle and patient tone of an older brother teaching his sibling when he would tell him of a tragic truth that was too much to take even for an adult. And whether this contradiction was an act he carried by habit or something deeper, what he truly felt and what he did for practical reasons… He was too far gone to be able to tell. He gave up on that a century ago as he was cradling his most intimate friend’s head in a dark pit. Anyone, even himself, could tell there had been no true purpose to his existence ever since that day.
But admittedly, even if Oz was only a tool, that didn’t mean he was just any tool, disposable, replaceable. From the time they first met, Oz carried great emotional value beside his power. A chain of the same type as Lacie’s who made him feel so much closer to her in more ways than one.
Cute Oz who was given life by Lacie much like himself.
Lovely Oz who sacrificed his body to bring him the last piece of Lacie and give him a new purpose.
Powerful Oz who gave the powerless man he was the strength to take on Glen.
Lonely Oz who shared the emptiness of his heart and his mind more than anyone.
Great Oz who became human when he failed to just stay one, who saw through his emotions to which he himself was too numb, and who taught him of his mistake.
Precious Oz who finally showed him the golden world Lacie loved so, and never before had he felt so close to her. Tears streamed down his cheeks when for the first time he could name this tender feeling he had for Oz.
Thank you, Oz.
It had been gratitude for every piece of Lacie Oz brought him, for every moment of loneliness he made more bearable. In the back of his mind, he noted that Alice had actually named Oz after Oswald and he ignored automatically the tinge it caused in his chest.
He thought vaguely that his way of expressing gratitude and repaying Oz hadn’t been exemplar. But by now he was way too good at pushing sadness and remorse into the back of his mind and smiling as if he didn’t have a care in the world. With his newfound lucidity at having been shown the wrong of his ways, he noted painfully that this was the only time when it was the right thing to do. Because it was too late to dwell on his feelings or repair things, and he didn’t have any time left to do so anyway.
Still he stayed long enough to see Oz’s last moments. Long enough to see this smiling, crying face that showed more emotions than he ever remembered how to feel. At that instant, a tinge of envy brought itself to his attention, and he wondered how long it was since he felt so much, with so much clarity.
Your hands have been empty from the start…
Everything you have is fake…
You can’t have anything, because you destroy everything…
Painful echoes of words he had said once himself came back to haunt him. He was but an empty man with empty hands who couldn’t make things right even if he wished to. There was nothing in those small hands of his rejuvenated body, not even a whole soul, only wreckage about to sink forever to the dark bottom of the sea. He couldn’t even keep on the wrong path anymore even if it were his wish, because the existence known as Jack Vessalius would be no more soon. But even so, for him who never felt another wish than to be with Lacie, who never knew of another wish to grant than Lacie’s own, did that mean he didn’t have a wish of his own?
Ah, that’s right… Even if that was but a vain wish, he was still allowed to have one, wasn’t he? He’d be damned if he said it (except he already was), and no one would believe him anyway, but it was alright to keep that one last secret. That he truly wished he could’ve protected that boy fading into light instead of forcing a painful fate on him.
He wished this child’s next life would be a happy one with Gilbert and Alice.
He wished Lacie and Oswald and Alice (gentle, lovely Alice who found it in herself to forgive him of all people) could find peace wherever they were.
And he wished for this world Lacie loved so to never be tainted again, for it to find peace and become a gentle place where children would no longer suffer for the mistakes of their parents or for being born a certain way.
He had nothing, but for that he could still find something to give.
“What about you use this body?“
It didn’t matter if he gave away the life that was still in this body, or deny it death to free his soul from the world. His soul had been rejected by the Abyss a long time ago anyway.
It was however ironic that in this moment, this instant where he had no friends and no status, he felt for the first time like he possessed something. Silently, he thought back to when Oz asked him if there hadn’t been another path for him, to his own realization that if he hadn’t been so mesmerized by Lacie’s sight, he might have had another fate. And yet, as he disappeared from this world, he still could not bring himself to wish he had never met Lacie.