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When it came down to being honest, walking alongside Handsome Jack had been something Rhys always dreamed of - that is, until it had actually come to be a waking reality in his life. Dealing with a hologram showing up whenever he pleased who could float through walls if he wanted to and fuck with his bionic arm had been bad enough, but he never expected it to be quite so terrible to walk with a living Jack.
Since the fall of Hyperion, there hadn't been a particular goal in mind for Rhys aside from surviving and reconstructing Atlas and himself, and he hadn't made any progress in anything, except walking more than he ever had before; improved stamina, the probable loss of five pounds and a headache was his only achievement. Unless of course, one considered tinkering with various metals he'd salvaged from the wreckage and an abandoned underground bunker to recreate his arm an achievement.
The loss of his friends left him with absolutely nothing and he'd been wandering through the wasteland on Pandora with Jack for an inconceivable amount of time. It could have been months for all they knew, though Rhys had tried to pay attention to light and dark cycles of day and night, and figured it had been maybe eight days.
After the crash, and after Rhys had ripped his arm clean from its socket and considered destroying his ECHO eye, he'd gotten lonely in the wilderness, and the pain never subsided. Rebuilding Atlas from the ground up wasn't so easy when you were on your own, and he had given up, extinguishing any chance for a hopeful future. He had caved and ventured off each passing day until he'd found a working computer with working electricity, and had plugged Jack into it. He'd hacked into the internal workings of a New-U station and reconstructed Jack's body from its already present blueprints, transferring the binary code of his holographic core into the new flesh body. Why hadn't anyone thought of that before?
Jack had been less than kind about being brought back for round three and had been nagging and harassing Rhys the entire time, after Rhys forced him to follow along and, considering there was nothing else useful for Jack to do, a part of him obliged. The obnoxious behaviour Jack had been expressing was forcing Rhys to question his choices for relieving his loneliness by bringing the asshole back to life in a better way than Nakayama did. In moments of anger, Rhys had threatened more than once to kill Jack for good this time.
Tired of hearing the endless chatter and babbling on a particularly warm day, Rhys turned on his heel before Jack could get another word in, his metal fist colliding with Jack's face, knocking the elder off balance, his body spinning from the impact and falling to the sandy ground.
"Motherfucker! You wreck my mask, kid, you're dead."
"Oh, please... Why do you even wear it anyway?" Rhys held his mechanical hand, seemingly massaging his palm.
"Oh. Rhysie. Cupcake. Don't tell me you, of all people, don't know."
When Rhys only stared blankly at Jack as he remained on the ground, the other sighed and looked down, dusting the sand off his pants and glancing away from the glowing eye of his slightly taller counterpart.
"I, uh.. I had... My face was burned. Branded, really. By a goddamn vault hunter."
"...Take it off."
"What?"
"Take it off. The mask."
"Rhys, I can't just take it off, it's attached by-"
"I said, take it off."
Rhys had growled out the command, leaning down to grab at the brackets holding Jack's mask in place, feeling around the thin edges and tugging. Jack had attempted to hit Rhys to get him to back off, yelling so quickly he was incoherent and unheard. It was a surprise they hadn't alerted any wasteland creatures.
"Rhys. Rhys! Stop it, you can't pull it off like that! Fuck's sake, Rhys!"
After having his hands swatted at to no end, Rhys finally let go and took a step back, body rigid, waiting. Sighing deeply again, Jack shook his head and ran his fingers across the various brackets and hinges, remembering how it was put on, and trying to unclasp everything.
"...It was never meant to come back off, once it was put on."
Jack winced as he pulled on the edges, the underside heat-treated and, in a way, welded to his face. The sound of tearing startled Jack, though he kept pulling, ignoring the pain of his skin being pulled on, still stuck to the mask. A noise escaped his lips, something akin to a breathy, whimpering moan as the final sharp tug released the mask from his face. He lowered it, holding his breath and staring at Rhys' feet as the horror he had tried to hide for so long was revealed to the man who wanted to kill him.
Rhys' mouth fell slightly open as he stared, unsure of what exactly he was feeling. The inverted V imprinted on his face, a partial hypertrophic scar mixing with the healed white tissue. Rhys understood why he'd cover it up- it tainted his name. How could one remain handsome with a branding burn covering his face?
Jack hadn't lifted his gaze from somewhere near Rhys' feet until Rhys started to reach his hand out towards him, and for the first time, he shuddered away in fear from someone's touch. The pleading look in his mismatched eyes triggered a slow blink from Rhys and a softening of his harsh features, once set in a glare.
Rhys touched the scar, fingertips ghosting across his skin and he dropped to his knees, grabbing Jack's face gently with both of his hands. He tilted his head and moved to examine the entirety of the scar and Jack's true appearance and it felt like a mockery to the elder. Jack scoffed and tried to pull away from the grasp but Rhys held on tightly, looking at Jack. They were as close as they had been when the override jack was shoved into Rhys' temple port, when they had talked about being partners, only they were facing each other this time.
Jack waited for Rhys to crack through his newfound hard exterior shell of anger and laugh at him or say something insulting but it never came. Instead, the gentle foreign feeling of a thumb brushing beneath his eye and across his cheekbone. Unblinking, they stared at one another, oblivious to the others' thoughts.
"..Who did this to you?" Rhys asked quietly.
"Nobody, nevermind."
"Tell me."
"Nah, I don't even remember her name-"
"Her. Was it your daughter?"
Jack gaped at the younger brunet staring at him and jerked his head away from Rhys again, though his attempts to be released failed.
"..No, it wasn't my daughter, you lunatic. You think I wouldn't remember my own daughter's name?"
"You didn't remember your own death when I put you inside my head."
"..That was temporary, Rhys. I was in denial."
"You're telling me it wasn't your daughter who did this to you?"
"That's exactly what I'm telling you." Jack leaned as close he could without touching noses to glare at Rhys.
"If I find out you're lying to me-"
"What, you'll yell at me some more? Punch me again? Maybe you'll go off and find Angel and kill her? Tell her how awful you think she is? Or- or maybe you'll congratulate her. Yeah. 'Good goin', Angel, you burned your dad's face. Sick moves, kiddo!' It wasn't her. Give me a break, asshole. And fucking.. let go of me."
Jack grabbed both of Rhys' wrists, trying to pull them away, though he'd underestimated the younger man's strength and willpower. He wasn't letting go and the more his fingers dug into his skin, the more obvious that was. Jack dropped his hands heavily into the sand at his sides, staring at Rhys with pursed lips, hating the exposure he was unwillingly granting him.
"Jack, I..." Rhys started, and never finished; he only dropped his gaze from Jack's eyes absentmindedly to his lips.
"What?" Jack snapped, still staring, watching the subtle movements of his eyes. "Huh? Speak up. Call me a freakshow, I can take it. Call me a mess. Call me a failure, a disaster, something. You keep wasting my time like this and I'm gonna kick your ass. Say it, you little shit. Insult me like you know you want to."
Rhys looked back up into Jack's eyes, his heart beating faster as he listened to him spew out words he'd never heard before from the almighty Handsome Jack. He swallowed hard, clenching his jaw and gazing sympathetically and disbelieving from blue eye to green eye before leaning forwards and softly kissing his forehead, directly over the arch of the V-shaped scar.
Jack could just barely feel the warm breath from the brunet's mouth, with what little feeling he had left around the burn, the act alone giving him a wave of frisson up his spine and down his arms. What is he doing? Is this a fucking joke?
He couldn't move; not at first, no. The younger's lips seemed to linger on his forehead for too long and every sense of confusion, anger, and self-hatred in his new body was diminishing and Jack's mindset had taken a full turnaround. Acting on impulse, destroying the moment that was too sweet for him to handle, Jack's hands seemed to move on their own up to Rhys' throat and jaw, pushing him back and kissing him roughly. A hand was immediately slamming into his chest, the metal pressing into Jack's jacket, creasing the fabric. When the impact didn't stop Jack, their lips still locked, Rhys began to push on Jack's chest, gripping the lapels of his jacket tightly, though it too did nothing.
Rhys began making sounds in protest, hitting Jack's chest, panicking too much to think to breathe through his nose and suffocating himself. Jack only carried on, moving a hand to the back of Rhys' head, entwining his fingers into his hair and forcing him to stay still. He pulled away not even for a second, hearing a satisfying 'ahh' from Rhys before kissing him again, inhaling sharply through his nose.
The pushing Rhys was doing and the pulling Jack was doing caused them to rock back and forth with tension until Jack pulled Rhys' hair to catch him off guard and he fell backward, Jack following him, the younger's long legs involuntarily spreading as Jack moved between them.
"Ja-" Rhys choked when Jack smirked with a devious chuckle, hovering over Rhys. "Jack. What are you doing?"
"Don't give that, princess. You started this mess."
"What? I-it was sympathy, okay; I kissed your forehead-"
"Uh huh, you kissed me. Youuu started it."
Rhys tapped violently on Jack's forehead to emphasize the point, seeing Jack wince with each tap.
"Forrrrehead! Forehead, Jack! I was.. I was being.. I did not kiss you."
"You did so, you moron. You kiss me, you're gonna get some."
"What, you go after everybody who kisses you? You slut."
Rhys furrowed his brow, writhing beneath Jack and pushing on his shoulders.
"Hey, I'm no slut, Rhys... learn the definition of a word before you use it. But hey.. a man gets needy."
"So take it out-" Rhys pushed on Jack's shoulders again, "-On someone else!"
"Take a look around, fuckwit, you see anyone else out here but us? No? Didn't think so."
Rhys continued groaning and trying to push Jack off of him but the elder only continued to laugh until he dropped deadweight on him, earning a fatigued exhale from Rhys as he dropped his arms at each side, giving up on getting free. He turned his head away from Jack, exposing his neck and his tattoo. Jack watched him blink a few times, listening to him exhale loudly through his nose, staring blankly off into the distance.
He'd been watching him breathe, admiring the way his lashes looked when he blinked, staring at his temple port that was replaced with a fake look-a-like; really seeing everything with physical eyes this time, because as much staring at Jack had done as a hologram, he never truly saw Rhys. There was no amount of observation to be done to notice every fine detail of the tall brunet or find out all his secrets, though he'd been predictable.
The smile on Jack's face - present for a reason other than murder for once - had begun to fade when he saw the muscles in Rhys' jaw tighten and move as he'd clenched his teeth. Jack watched and waited, and decided to hold off the snarky comments.
"Don't do this to me, Jack."
It was quiet, barely louder than a whisper; he was squinting his eyes a bit, refusing to look back at the man lying on top of him. Jack remained silent.
"Of all people.. not you. Not now."
Jack watched Rhys' adam's apple bob when he swallowed and continued to stare at his throat when Rhys finally turned his head back to look at Jack, searching for some kind of visible response in his eyes if he wasn't going to say anything. Instead, he only blinked and moved off of Rhys, straightening out his clothes, on his knees in the sand.
He hadn't bothered granting Rhys eye contact, or another touch. He didn't stand up, he didn't move at all; he only rested his hands atop his thighs and stared at the plains beneath him, appearing more calm than Rhys had expected him to ever be.
"Sorry, kiddo."
Wait.. did he just..? Rhys sat up, watching the unmoving man next to him. This looked familiar.
"Jack? Hey, c'mon," Receiving no response, Rhys reached out to touch his shoulder, but the elder flinched away.
This is the exact same position he was in the last time something happened between them; this is the exact same position he was in when Rhys let him down, when he'd ripped the implant from its socket in his eye, when he'd apologized as Jack sat motionless on the floor up in Hyperion, when he'd almost crushed the blue lens in his palm. When he watched the terror on his translucent face grow when he'd sent him back into the void. How many times has he been let down..?
Jack stood from the ground, swiping his hands across his pants again to get the particles of sand and Pandoran stone off and obsessively worked his clothing into place, trying to perfect what was already perfect enough. He hadn't lifted his gaze from the ground when he spoke again, Rhys standing as he'd opened his mouth.
"Make up your mind, Rhysie. Don't let me believe you're just like the rest of the scum that slipped through my fingers. Don't let me believe you give a shit, when you don't. Don't let me believe you're nothing, like they were."
Jack turned and walked off away from Rhys, continuing their travels through the wasteland until they found something worth investigating, something work caring for, something worth rebuilding. He was walking tall, a bit of a forced bounce to his steps, repeatedly adjusting his clothes and fixing his hair. He hadn't looked back to see if Rhys followed, he only kept walking.
"..I do care." Rhys said, surprised Jack heard him at all.
"Tch- yeah, right, of course you do, cupcake." Jack responded, shaking his head.
As Rhys thought about how Jack had worded his sentence, implying he meant something to the man, he felt his heart skip a beat, and he wasn't sure if it was a retaliation of feelings or anxiety. He wasn't even sure what he was doing when he decided to kiss the scar on the other's face. He looked down at his feet, eyes moving over to where Jack kneeled to see his mask half-buried in the sand. He lifted it and shook the sand off, staring at it and glancing at Jack, off in the distance. Rhys considered leaving it there, and he'd even set it back on the ground, though he never let go. He lifted it once more and sighed as he stuck his finger through the left eye hole and carried it with him, jogging after Jack to catch up, careful to leave a metre or two of space between them.
Rhys had no clue where they were going, but maybe Jack did. Maybe that's what he'd been trying to tell him this entire time, if only he'd listened, if only he'd paid attention. If only he never let him down. If only he'd cared a little sooner.