[ He doesn't know what the hell an occultum is. He can hazard a guess at which garden, probably the one in heaven he visited Joshua in - the place where he learned God didn't think the apocalypse was his problem.
At the end of the day, does it really matter? Does he need to know all of the freaky stupid specific details? The bigger picture is that Jack's got his soul back, and it...
Reconciling these two versions of Jack is ten times harder than separating them ever was. It's easy, it's so easy, to split someone into two - before they got turned and after they became a monster. It happens with vampires, with ghosts, with werewolves usually, the only difference is Jack got turned into a soulless thing, and he wasn't expecting to ever have to come back from that.
To have to deal with forgiving him.
It's so much easier to just hate, and to feel anger, and to channel all of his energy into killing someone in his mind.
He can't do that here. It directly contradicts how he's been programmed to treat family.
His fingers flex absently when Jack points out the blood. His movements are slow motion as he reaches out to take the napkins mechanically, as though on autopilot. He presses the paper against the gashes in his knuckles, and the pain slowly begins to filter in.
There's quiet for a little while longer, but his foot stays on the brakes. ]
So what am I supposed to do?
[ He asks, but he doesn't really... expect Jack to answer. It's a rhetorical question that falls out of his mouth, toneless and empty and thick. ]
How am I supposed t-
[ The word cuts off with a soft click, and his head starts shaking again.
It's easier to fall into duty. To block it out and think in short steps - step one, get out of the parking lot. Step two, get home. Step three, make the kid eat. Step four, clean his wounds.
no subject
At the end of the day, does it really matter? Does he need to know all of the freaky stupid specific details? The bigger picture is that Jack's got his soul back, and it...
Reconciling these two versions of Jack is ten times harder than separating them ever was. It's easy, it's so easy, to split someone into two - before they got turned and after they became a monster. It happens with vampires, with ghosts, with werewolves usually, the only difference is Jack got turned into a soulless thing, and he wasn't expecting to ever have to come back from that.
To have to deal with forgiving him.
It's so much easier to just hate, and to feel anger, and to channel all of his energy into killing someone in his mind.
He can't do that here. It directly contradicts how he's been programmed to treat family.
His fingers flex absently when Jack points out the blood. His movements are slow motion as he reaches out to take the napkins mechanically, as though on autopilot. He presses the paper against the gashes in his knuckles, and the pain slowly begins to filter in.
There's quiet for a little while longer, but his foot stays on the brakes. ]
So what am I supposed to do?
[ He asks, but he doesn't really... expect Jack to answer. It's a rhetorical question that falls out of his mouth, toneless and empty and thick. ]
How am I supposed t-
[ The word cuts off with a soft click, and his head starts shaking again.
It's easier to fall into duty. To block it out and think in short steps - step one, get out of the parking lot. Step two, get home. Step three, make the kid eat. Step four, clean his wounds.
He can process after.
Maybe.
He lets off the brake. ]