#firsts au

Rhys was not one to always think on the past, but sometimes, like now, he just couldn’t help but look back. Staring at Jack’s back as he walked around complaining not being able to shoot people made him recall all the shit he and the others went through. Everything with Gortys, Vallory…with Helios. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened had he decided to kill Jack, instead of just trapping him, and eventually talking him into helping him rebuild Atlas, and not be so—murdery (even Rhys didn’t how he did that).

And not long after that, he got Jack a new body, and they started rebuilding Atlas from the ground up, one goddamned piece at a time. There were days when Rhys was ready to give up, just throw the towel in, and say ‘fuck it’. But then there was Jack, insulting and pushing and challenging Rhys. Which in Jack’s own fucked up way was his form of encouragement. And eventually, after almost a year of working together, opening up, and learning to trust in each other, they started falling in love. Or something akin to it.

They would talk, let things out a little bit at a time. And they discovered things about each other.

 Rhys learned about Angel, the events with Elpis, and eventually he saw the scar. Nisha, Moxxi, and the Vault hunters. All the stuff Jack never told anyone about. There were still a few things he didn’t know, but it didn’t bother him. Everyone had secrets they’d never share. Rhys had quite a few he’d probably never tell Jack.

 Though the other man knew a lot, like about Rhys’ insecurities about his arm; how he lost his arm and eye. The truth of his past and not the bullshit made up on his Hyperion worker info sheet. His fears about running the company. His fear of becoming into a failure; of turning to drugs like his parents and wasting the rest of his meager life in some dilapidated shack on Pandora.

 They had be a sort of exclusive item for the past five years. Neither had ever said the ‘I love you’s most couples reached by their year anniversary, but that was okay with Rhys. Jack had issues with relationships and Rhys was content with what they had. It was good and solid, and he was happy.

 Though, he mused, as his thoughts trailed to the present, it would be even better if it weren’t so fucking hot out. But that’s Pandora: hot as balls and always trying to kill you.

 “Hey pumpkin! Whatcha doin’ all the way back there? You, uh, you gunna catch up or stay here and melt? You’re the one who dragged me out on this stupid survey, so get your ass up here, cupcake.”

 Rhys sighed, “I’m coming Jack. We’re almost done; as soon as we finish this last area, we can go and relax in the van, okay? And stop terrorizing the workers. This isn’t Hyperion.” That was a line he had uttered to Jack an innumerable amount of times over the past five years, though more and more once Atlas really started taking off three and a half years ago. His workers were still getting used to Jacks…eccentricities.

“Hmph, don’t have to tell me that. I mean, black and orange? Yellow is a much better colour, Rhysie. And I don’t know how you get shit done. These guys need a good dose of fear to make them work better! I mean, look at Hyperion. Best damn company out there.”

Rhys just laughed and walked past Jack.

 “Rhys? Rhys, c’mon you worked there for how long? Hyperion was great! Kiddo? Kiddo!”

 It was a good day, and Rhys couldn’t be more content.

Jack, on the other hand, was cursing the heat. And this damn survey for taking so long. Had they taken this long, he wondered as he now walked behind Rhys, back when he had still run his company? Had he even done the surveys himself? He honestly could not remember what the fuck had had or hadn’t done when he was top dog of Hyperion. It was like that sometimes. There were things from before that while he knew happened, he could not remember them. It disturbed him, made him uneasy. But, as the years passed, and he and Rhys continued to work on making Atlas a big name again and growing closer, that unease had faded, and he had started to relax.

In more ways than one, really; he wasn’t as paranoid as he used to be, and, as Rhys liked to put it, he wasn’t as ‘murder’. He was still plenty sadistic; it was a trait of his, not some behavior. But he didn’t kill as many employees nowadays. And the only things they really had to worry about down here on this shitball planet were the wildlife and bandits. Both were relatively easy to take care of, and Jack was usually at the forefront of what he personally liked to call “Kick-ass Hero Time.”

 He shook his head, pace becoming faster. Where the hell had Rhys and that damn guide gotten off to? “Rhysie? Where’d the hell you go?” There were workers scurrying around using equipment and moving things, cars traveling to and fro. Jack had made his way to the front of the site when the alarm went off.

 The sirens blared, a piercing wail mixing in with the sudden sound of gunfire and frantic yells. It shocked Jack, and he froze, if only for a second. It was the burning pain in his arm that broke his state, and from there he sped into action. His he had his favorite pistol comfortable in his hand and a savage smile on his face, which was more teeth than lips.

 Jack felt as if the world was his kingdom, and he the Hero, the protector that would save the day and kill the motherfuckers who dared try to attack what was his. He loved that feeling, he relished in it. The recoil as he shoot a guy in the face (headshot, baby!), the feel of warm, wet blood as it slashed across him. This was his place, and goddamn did it feel good to let loose.

He moved steadily through the area, making his way closer to the assholes who had decided to ruin his perfectly okay day. He ducked before shooting some idiot who hadn’t bothered to find cover in the back. Something about the armor tickled at his mind, the colour reflecting brightly in the light. He pushed it aside. He’d figure it out later.

 “Peh, amateur,” he muttered under his breath, dodging behind some expensive-looking machinery as one of the gunners in one of the last intact digistructed car turned his way. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. What the hell are the guards doing, playing pin the tail on the ass?” He glanced around, trying to see where the fuck the shitty guards they had hired where, considering that dick in the car still wasn’t dead. Most were out of site, a few dead or dying ones laying on the ground, and—ah, there we go.

“You! The idiot in the car!” The guard looked up, shock and a bit a fear crossing his face when he saw who was addressing him.

“Y-yes sir?” The guard ducked down to avoid a spray of bullets, before returning fire and looking back over at Jack, who was using a broken piece of metal to observe the car gunner.

“Get so other idiots to concentrate fire on the gunner. And hurry the fuck up, will you?”

“Right away, sir!” The guard disappeared again, and soon after, the line shifted, more people covering the gunner. Eventually, the same guar appeared and gave the all clear.

Jack cautiously slid out from behind his cover, glancing at the car. The man was slumped over the side, half his head gone, brain matter and blood trailing down the dull metal. “Huh. Nice shot.”

There were just stragglers now. A few lucky bastards who were being picked off here and there; Jack casually shot one who jumped out from behind a burnt car wreck wielding his gun like a club in the face. Fuckin’ hell, these guys were barely a challenge. He kicked the body out of his way, chipped, dull red and black metal catching his eye.

His stopped, staring down at the dead body, the realization hitting him suddenly. He felt his blood rushing, heart pounding, there was a roaring in his ears. He knew that armor. He knew it very well.

The Crimson Lance. Or what was left of them anyways. But what the fuck were they doing here? The only major thing that was at this site was—Rhys. Shit shit shit. Where the fuck was Rhys?

“Rhysie? Rhys can you hear me?” He was starting to panic, worry and dread bubbling up in his gut like hot acid, eating away at him.

“RHYS!”  There was no response, and Jack was starting to feel despair. Where was he? Why hadn’t he payed attention and followed him instead of wandering around like a fucking idiot?

There was a cry of ‘Handsome Jack, sir!’ that wretched him from his thoughts and self loathing, and into action. He whirled around to find the source of the cry, which came from a small figure waving him over from an outcropping of rocks about thirty yards away. It was the guide, which meant…

“Fuck.” He ran, sprinting faster than he could process, making his way over in record time, and sliding around the worker, who, he noted somewhere in the back of his head, was covered in blood but only had mild scrapes.

And— no no no nonno ono.

“H-hey, Jack.” It was Rhys, slumped against the rocks, blood trailing down his chin, a growing dark patch covering his front. There were one, two—four bullet holes that Jack could see. He fell to his knees besides his stupid partner.

“What-what the fuck happened to you, Rhysie?” He wasn’t panicking, He was Handsome Jack and he didn’t panic.

“Heh. I did some—gaaagh—something stupid.” He gave a small, dumb smile, before coughing violently, blood, mixed with spit and other things coming out. At least one of the bullets had hit a lung.

“And what did your dumb ass do pumpkin?” He would never admit how his voice wavered and grew soft towards the end, or how he felt tears in his eyes and he that pulled this stupid, dumb, amazing man into his arms.

“I was a hero. I even saved somebody.” He coughed again, weaker this time, and Jack leaned down, touching their foreheads together.

He gave a hysteric little chuckle, “Oh, of course you did, Rhysie. But I’m supposed to be the hero, remember? You’re the damsel.”

“Yeah. But Jack, I just wanted to say something. I know I’m dying. Take care of the company, alright? Don’t kill the workers. And, take care of yourself.”

Jack gave him a soft kiss, not caring about the blood and spit, nor about how he could feel Rhys’ breath hitch and slow.

“I will, kiddo.”