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Working as Handsome Jack’s PA was not the nightmare hellscape it was rumored to be.
Admittedly, for a time, Rhys thought it was how he would die because everything with Jack had felt risky and often contradictory. By definition, predictably unpredictable.
There seemed to be no warning to the sudden shifts in Jack’s mood. No way to gauge what the next day or even hour would bring. If a minor inconvenience would roll off of Jack or cause him to beat someone to death. Rhys had only strived to navigate it the best he could until it was as natural and instinctive as breathing. Or Rhys was just… so incredibly lucky.
Either way, now there were times Jack would smile at him or call him ‘babe’ without patronizing, and Rhys would have a very surreal moment of why him? Why was he allowed to have this? Why wasn’t he a pale, frozen corpse orbiting Elpis or the unfortunate recipient of ‘death by whatever random, mundane object Jack had within reach’?
Most days, though, Rhys was just grateful. Happy even. Jack had him doing actual work with levels of classified he never dreamed of having access to. Of course, there was still fetching coffee and taking notes in meetings, but Rhys’ place as the CEO’s right hand was well-established.
That had taken a while. Almost a full year with a side of spyware, in fact. But, outside a few instances of Jack using it for petty revenge and/or amusement in the form of humiliation early on, it was just there. It was just something Rhys had understood Jack needed in exchange for his trust. It was not normal by any stretch, but neither was Jack and if he was anyone else, Rhys would call them friends.
He looked over as Jack came into the conference room and knew it was still far more than most of the universe was allowed.
“What’s up?” Rhys asked.
“Just wondering what you’re still doing here.”
“I’m baking a cake,” Rhys told him, the glowing blue data floating patiently above his open palm.
Jack grinned and leaned against the back of a chair. “That’s a more believable lie than I was expecting out of you.”
Rhys went back to what he was doing, unable to resist a smile. He selected two files and transferred them over to the table’s built-in displays in preparation for tomorrow’s meeting.
“Do I even want to know what you were expecting?”
“Some bullshit about how you’re just doing your job when we both know you’re really hanging around looking for a little extra attention from yours truly. Which, like, valid. Look at me.”
Rhys did, closing his fingers to dismiss the projection. He was ‘just doing his job,’ and Jack knew it. Staying late was a necessary and frequent part of that, especially with all the random crap Jack had put him in charge of factored in. Rhys didn’t mind, though. Each new thing shoved off on him just showed how useful and proactive he could be for Jack.
“Are you bored or just hungry?” Rhys asked in amusement.
“A little of column a, a little of column b.” Jack reached out and scrolled through the files. “But then a little from column c started to creep in because I should’ve strangled the lead on that trade deal more than I did.”
“I’m proud of you for deciding to bother me instead of heading down to Operations to do that.”
“You would be,” Jack said. “But the idiot is probably gone for the day. So instead of wasting my time and ending up insanely pissed off he’s not working at it around the clock like he should be, here I am. Plus, putting the fear of Jack into him first thing in the morning will help wake him up and get shit done if he wants to still have a job. Or continue breathing. I guess that depends on how hungry I am.”
Rhys snorted. “In case you somehow forgot, all you have to do is tell me what you want.”
Jack looked at him for a moment before smirking faintly. “Sometimes I don’t know what I want, pumpkin. Anything sound good to you?”
“Sushi,” Rhys admitted. “But I’ve got a meeting in fifteen, so what sounds good to me doesn’t really matter.”
“What do you mean you have a meeting in fifteen? It’s, like, almost your bedtime, isn’t it?”
“No. Shut up. It was supposed to be earlier today, but I had to cancel to straighten out that weapons account.”
“And what’s so important that it can’t wait until tomorrow?” Jack asked seriously.
“It could wait until then,” Rhys began reluctantly. “But Larson isn’t available.”
There was a pause. Then Jack straightened, arms crossing.
“In case you somehow forgot, as— my assistant— you’re higher on the food chain, so if you want to meet tomorrow, you meet tomorrow.”
Rhys shifted his weight. Okay, yes, that was true, and he had no problem throwing his weight around with people who clearly resented having to answer to him in the first place. But Rhys was hard-pressed to push the few who treated him with respect. Plus, Vaughn worked in Accounting, and considering it was the only department Jack had vented in full twice, Rhys liked to keep Jack happy on that front.
Well, as much as possible, at least.
“Right,” Rhys said. “It’s just with the fiscal quarter coming to an end, Larson is busy, and I need to get this last accounting discrepancy figured out before you start reviewing budgets in case there’s a problem. I mean, it’s not a huge amount, but it’s noticeable, and there’s something off about it.”
“Nah, what’s off is you spending so much time in Accounting with Larson,” Jack said the name with a faint sneer, “on a discrepancy you oh so conveniently can’t figure out.”
Rhys wasn’t sure how Jack had gotten so close all of a sudden, but everything about it felt wrong. Still, he held his ground because it was least likely to make things worse. Only pressing his lips together and glancing away in his discomfort.
“You told me to take care of it,” Rhys said evenly. “So, you either want me to do that, or you don’t.”
Jack’s mouth twisted slightly, his anger rising a little closer to the surface. Rhys braced himself, but then it abruptly subsided.
“You know what, do what you want,” Jack said, taking a step back before turning and walking away. “I’m not sure why I fucking care anyway.”
The door slid shut behind Jack, and Rhys spent a long minute rooted where he was, staring at a particularly bold line in the table’s grain and trying to calm his heart. Then another alert flashed across his HUD, this time reminding Rhys that he had a meeting with Larson in ten minutes. He moved then, smoothing a hand down his tie before exiting the room.
It was almost a relief when Rhys found Jack had left. Mainly because having Jack doubt him after everything he had done to remove it felt like such a bitter and deeply personal betrayal.
_______________________________________________________________________________
Some ECHO activity on Jack’s wristband cut through his concentration, pulling him up and out of the project he had immersed himself in.
He was in his home office and on a roll. Mind tunneling with laser focus. It was the closest Jack had gotten to a full-out, ‘genius on fire’ type engineering binge in weeks. Which had been sooooo welcome after leaving the office with his thoughts scattered in a thousand different directions. There would have been no stopping him if it wasn’t an after-hours security alert. Nothing that would classify as an actual emergency, but considering recent bullshit, a necessary precaution.
Jack set his soldering iron down to scroll back through the alert because surely— surely, he had read wrong. But he didn’t.
Rhys had remotely accessed the R&D Level III server.
On a normal day, where Rhys was sitting at his stupid little desk with his stupid skinny tie, Jack would not think anything of it. Sifting through data and reviewing progress summaries was part of Rhys’ job, but it was almost flipping midnight.
Admittedly, Jack hadn’t touched the video feed from Rhys’ eye in months. There hadn’t felt like a need to. Not even when it became clear there was a leak. So, for all he knew, Rhys had found a way around the spyware in his head, and that… that was why Jack had been unable to nail down who was diverting that much funding into a shell line item.
He pulled up a series of holo-screens, including the feed to Rhys’ ECHOeye.
Only to find it offline.
Jack paused against the keyboard. It shouldn’t have surprised him. It really shouldn’t have. Rhys was smarter than people gave him credit for. That was part of the appeal of having him around. And Jack had plenty of experience with hurt and pain and betrayal.
Had years of longing for a place to call home, just to have it ripped away once it was his. Had a lifetime of dreams coming to violent or bloody ends at the hands of people he thought he could trust. In the face of all that, Jack had done the only thing he could and made himself an island. He took all of his experience and newfound knowledge from the Vault on Elpis and did what needed to be done.
People were either for Jack or against him. If they were part of the latter, they were removed from the equation. Simple as that. And Rhys, well, that was on Jack for letting him close enough to slip through his defenses.
It was a problem easily solved though. Jack would take all the hurt and betrayal festering inside him and turn it into blood, sweat, and destruction. And after, when there was nothing left again, Jack would be fine. He had gotten good at ignoring pain over the years. It had been one of the first lessons his grandmother had taught him as a child, and Jack had always been a fast learner.
It was not until Jack triangulated the ECHO signal built into Rhys’ head that he felt something other than ice in his veins. There was an empty sense of unease when the pulsating red dot representing him flickered to life on the projection. Rhys was not at his apartment or even in the office but on a mechanical floor.
Immediate proximity to a terminal connected to Hyperion servers was necessary to remote in. The most Rhys could do on Level 87 was dick with the artificial gravity, and since Rhys got vertigo in zero-g, messing with that would not be part of his master plan.
It was almost funny how quickly the worry crept under Jack’s skin, settling there like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Everything Rhys could be doing immediately shifting into all the things that could be happening to him.
That could have already happened to him.
With a few quick keystrokes, Jack began to run a trace on the access point and record a log of everything being accessed. Then he called Security.
He was in a service elevator with a team of soldiers headed to Level 87 before Security had finished locking Helios down. When the doors slid open, it was to an empty corridor, and Jack took the lead automatically.
It was wide enough for service vehicles. Nondescript. Just pipes, steel, and cables. The low hum of machinery. It seemed to stretch on for miles, and Jack’s heartbeat quickened along with his stride as he progressed down the hallway toward Rhys’ location, Cooling Tower II.
Eventually, Jack’s hand drifted toward his sidearm, the grip cool against his skin. Finger wrapping around the trigger as the double doors came into view. Applying just enough pressure to feel it there, as much as he could with so light a trigger pull.
There was a moment of stillness before the doors opened, and when Jack took in the room— his heart seemed to stop.
Rhys was tied to a chair in the middle of the space, slumped forward, and looking as lifeless as the asshole who did this to him would be the second Jack got his hands on them.
“Two of you, outside this door at all times. The rest of you finish checking this goddamn floor,” he ordered while rapidly approaching Rhys.
Jack dropped to his knees in front of him and pressed his fingers against Rhys’ pulse. It was weak, concerningly slow even, but still beating.
“And get a Medical team down here!”
Jack took Rhys’ face in his hands and lifted his head gently. The last several hours must have been hard on Rhys. His prosthetic was missing; he was freezing cold, and most worryingly, there was a large, colorful bruise across his left cheekbone.
“Rhys,” Jack said. “Pumpkin, can you hear me?”
Rhys groaned something that might be Jack’s name, and his fingers twitched against Rhys’ face involuntarily.
I’m not sure why I fucking care anyway.
Jack had been lying to himself. He knew exactly why he fucking cared. He had never known where to draw the line with Rhys. Jack could never decide what the appropriate amount of worry was either. Or if he was worried for Rhys’ safety or his own.
Turned out they were tied together in a way Jack never should have tried to ignore.
“I’m gonna get you out of here, kitten, but I need you to open your eyes and look at me. I need you to focus for a second. Can you do that for me?”
Rhys’ head moved a little in his hands, and Jack swiped a thumb across the blood at the corner of Rhys’ mouth, smearing it. Then, after another second, Rhys pried his eyes open.
One pupil was constricted to a pinpoint, unresponsive to the light, and the other… Jack’s throat tightened as he took in the mangled remnants of Rhys’ ECHOeye, understanding with sudden, horrific clarity how this asshole was accessing Hyperion servers.
“One of you to get over here and cut him loose,” Jack yelled over his shoulder before turning back to Rhys.
He ran a trembling hand along Rhys’ jaw and into his hair. “I need you to tell me who did this to you,” Jack said in a tight voice. “I need you to tell me so I can make this right.”
“‘S Larson.” Rhys’ words were slurring like his mouth wouldn’t quite cooperate. Then he swayed as the restraints fell, and Jack placed a careful hand on his chest to keep him steady.
Rhys sluggishly grabbed at Jack’s wrist. “He drugged me an—“
“Shh-shh-shh. It’s okay. I know. I can see what else he did to you.”
Jack’s hands were shaking as he moved to lift Rhys, and his legs seemed too heavy to do anything useful, but Jack got Rhys into his arms without issue. However, Rhys’ head lolled when unsupported, so Jack readjusted his hold until the brown head of hair rested against his shoulder. His eyes had slid shut again, and Jack could not help but worry if Rhys drifted off, he would never wake up.
“You’re going to be fine, cupcake. Just stay with me. I’ll take care of everything.”
“I’m— I’m sorry, Ja’q.” Rhys swallowed thickly, and a tear trailed down his cheek. “You were right.”
“I don’t care about being right, you idiot.”
What Jack cared about were all the mistakes that had brought them to this moment.
_______________________________________________________________________________
Consciousness found Rhys slowly. Intermittently. It ebbed and flowed like the sea back home on Anteros. First, there were blurs of color and ripples of sound, and once, maybe twice, Rhys felt fingers resting against his forehead. Then, he drifted between dream and reality, unsure which was which.
A hospital room. The view from the chair he was bound to. Jack touching his face with blood lashed across one shoulder. Light glinting off a knife’s edge and being trapped in his own skin. It seemed like as soon as Rhys could grab hold of the present, he would get dragged back under until, eventually, he managed to surface.
Rhys blinked his eyes open and reflexively tried to shy away from the nearest light source. It took a moment to realize why he couldn’t, that it was his HUD responding to questions he had not fully formed yet. Rhys dismissed it for now, allowing everything else to come into focus.
The room was large and nice. Nothing standard, much like the mattress he rested on. It was inclined, and the sheets were crisp and clean. His prosthetic was detached or maybe never found, and his head did not hurt exactly, but there was a tightness in it.
Rhys knew the feeling well from the original surgery. But considering his mental clarity, he had to be on high-quality, eye-wateringly expensive pain relief. However, he still felt miserable, and speaking to the doctor didn’t help.
He hadn’t been drugged but poisoned by a developmental toxin designed by R&D to slow the nervous system until it stopped altogether, and he was lucky to be alive. Rhys was also apparently lucky Larson did not damage the complex wiring in his head, only his surface hardware. So between the security breach, surgery, and making sure there were no lingering effects from the toxin, Rhys was not going home any time soon.
The only good news he got from the conversation was permission to be on his feet as long as he took it slow. With that in mind and wanting nothing more than to forget where he was and why, Rhys went to the en-suite for a shower.
Rhys washed cautiously, then planted his hand against the wall for support and tilted his head back under the spray. The hot water had relieved the tightness in his body but did nothing for the mess in his head.
He thought back on everything that had happened, everything he had learned. What pain meant, and betrayal. Trust.
And, of course, Rhys thought of Jack.
He was one of the most dangerous men in the universe. A man who made a habit of finding and removing problems suddenly and violently. Someone who hesitated and backed off when faced with decisions that could negatively affect Rhys. Who still saved Rhys despite not receiving the same consideration in return.
Rhys would give anything to go back and make a different choice. To not have driven a knife into the most important place between them and be relieved that Jack had walked away. Rhys had so much to apologize for that he didn’t know where to start. Or if Jack would even listen.
After all, Jack had the last two weeks to reflect on what had happened and come to his own conclusions. That, compounded with the overwhelming feeling that it had all taken place in the last few hours for him, had Rhys turning off the taps and climbing out.
As he dressed, he avoided the mirror and the fading bruises surrounding his new eye’s warm, golden hue. Ignored the food waiting for him in the main room. It was late, and he couldn’t go anywhere, but Rhys still did exactly what he felt like doing. He crawled back into bed and curled in on himself.
Rhys must have dozed off because when his eyes opened again, Jack was sitting in the bedside chair. He looked tired and angry, leg bouncing in agitation, but then he froze.
Jack’s eyes immediately locked onto his, and something turned sickeningly inside Rhys.
“I’m sorry,” he said because it was all he could think to say.
Jack’s posture softened marginally. “I’m not mad at you. Or at least I’m not mad about the crap you’re apologizing for.”
Rhys frowned and carefully pushed himself upright so he could sit on the edge of the bed. Then hesitated when he noticed how tense Jack seemed again.
“So then, what are you mad about?”
“A lot of things, pumpkin, but nothing that you actually did or… I don’t know, didn’t do.”
“But you’re mad at me for it,” Rhys clarified.
An unexpected smile stretched across Jack’s mouth, but it had too many edges, and his eyes were a degree too flat for it to be anything that could be described as happy.
“You know, I was mad at Angel for a long time, too, after she left, but it’s easier to place blame than it is to accept any of it.”
There was a dull, aching sensation in Rhys’ chest at that. Jack had always been avoidant of his daughter. Avoidant to the point that she was a ghost. Traces of her existed on Hyperion servers but removed from context.
Removed from Jack.
The only thing tying them together was a carefully placed picture frame on Jack’s desk. It was the only thing Rhys had ever seen of Jack’s that classified as a personal possession. He still wasn’t sure why he had been allowed to see it or know she existed somewhere in the universe, but it was clear that Angel was a ghost simply because Jack cared.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re off here,” Rhys told him. “You were right; it was convenient. None of this would have happened if I had just stopped and listened to what you were saying.”
“Yeah, it would have. People looking to steal from me who actually get somewhere do so because they know what it takes. I just thought the less you knew, the better. I needed to make sure it wasn’t a false lead that would fuck everything up anyway, but then I pissed you off at the wrong time, and—” Jack looked away, his jaw rolling slightly. “Here we are.”
“I wasn’t mad,” Rhys supplied quietly. “I just thought you were suspecting me.”
“Well, I didn’t until I got a security alert you were accessing R&D files in the middle of the night, but even that was short-lived. Larson, though. Just hinting you might be falling out of my good graces was enough to give him a big ole, shiny green light to go then and there and pin it on you.”
Rhys closed his eyes and felt worse. All he had said was he wanted to wrap up the problem so Jack would back off, but it hadn’t occurred to him— It couldn’t have been a more perfect setup for Larson to get what he was after and buy himself the time necessary to vanish.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“I really do not want your damn apologies for this, Rhys,” Jack said, cutting him a sharp look. “I watched the video feed from your eye until it went dark. I saw what happened. And maybe I just need you to explain it to me like I need you to explain why you wouldn’t eat something after being unconscious for two weeks. But I don’t see how that bastard sinking a hypo into your back and taking your eye apart while you could barely even move is your fault.”
Rhys’ eyes darted guiltily over to the sandwich, of all things. “Well, when you phrase it all like that, it just makes me sound stupid.”
“Happy to help,” Jack said.
“You would be,” Rhys muttered, aware he was pouting.
Jack smiled then, a real one. Just for a moment.
Something about it made Rhys almost blush. He glanced down, and when he looked back up, Jack was studying him carefully.
“I didn’t expect this conversation to go well,” Rhys admitted with a one-shouldered shrug. “So I didn’t eat because I couldn’t.”
Jack nodded absently, then stood up and moved to the wall by the headboard to press his palm to a small screen. The bare metal of the wall slid away to reveal a recessed work area. Rows of tools lined the wall, while the central display was filled with data on Rhys’ cyberware setup.
“And now?” Jack asked, pulling open the top drawer.
“I’m sure I could manage.”
“Does sushi still sound good?”
“It’s three in the morning,” Rhys began. And then he stopped when that fact processed all the way.
Jack had come to see Rhys in the middle of the night, and not because he was mad. Or, at least, not angry in the way Rhys had expected.
“Yeah, and I’m Handsome Jack. If we want sushi, we get sushi. You know this. What you don’t know is I may have beat Larson within an inch of his life with your arm once we found it. It was probably salvageable, but since we had to upgrade your eye…” There was a pause as if Jack needed a moment to set aside the memory, then said, “Figured we might as well upgrade your arm too. It was way past time for it anyway.”
Jack turned with the prosthetic in question in his hands. It was black with two slightly skewed golden lines down the outside plating that vaguely reminded Rhys of the Hyperion logo.
“So, what do you think?”
Rhys reached out and traced his fingers along the detail in the plating, feeling the ridges. He didn’t need to see the specs to know the prosthetic was worth a small fortune. Knowing it was nothing Hyperion mass-produced was evidence enough.
Admittedly, Rhys sometimes felt like he was a tool: something reliable to be kept close. Special. Useful. But not interesting.
Or treasured.
But then there were moments like this.
Moments like dropping tickets on Rhys’ desk to go home and see his mom last minute for her birthday. Or inviting Rhys to executive events for no other reason than Jack seemed to want him there.
And now, as Jack stared down at Rhys as if he was the singular worthwhile diversion in a universe full of tedium.
Rhys used to fantasize that his relationship with Jack might evolve into something more. He used to spend idle moments imagining their first date. It was all something Rhys had let go of, even though what he felt for Jack had only become a bit more real as he got to know the man hidden behind walls of violence and power. Perhaps it was simply because Jack was… Jack.
There had always been something comforting in knowing he mattered to some extent, yet it no longer felt like enough.
“Why are you mad at me?” Rhys asked.
Jack set the prosthetic on the bed and smirked faintly. “I’m pretty sure that was one of the first things I explained, sunshine.”
“It was. I just— I know it was a close thing, but I’m fine,” Rhys said. “If I wasn’t, I feel like you’d already have someone in here.”
“Yeah, I can see you’re fine, and I would’ve been here sooner to confirm that myself if the night shift doc knew how to follow orders,” Jack said, stepping closer and capturing Rhys’ face in both hands to angle it upward.
There was the lightest brush of a calloused thumb across the corner of his mouth. Just enough to piece together a little more of the vague memory of Jack rescuing him. And just like then, Rhys gripped Jack’s wrist to keep himself steady more than anything.
His heart was beating harder than when he woke up to Jack sitting there.
“But I’m gonna be mad about that ‘close thing’ part for a while,” Jack said, then kissed him.
When Rhys used to imagine their first kiss, it was always frantic, like the clash of opposing forces, but the reality of it was so much better than anything he could have dreamed up. It was slow but heated. Jack’s mouth formed to Rhys’ in a way that suggested possession beyond simple ownership.
It was the hunger of a man who had wanted something he couldn’t have for ages. The edge of desperation from someone needing the physical reminder that Rhys was safe and living. It was overwhelming, but Rhys was coherent enough to notice Jack was coming a bit undone too. Pressing closer and holding tighter to keep Rhys balanced in the absence of his other arm. That his pulse thudded beneath the press of Rhys’ fingers.
Then Jack broke away but didn’t move to generate space between them. Not that Rhys wanted him to go anywhere. He just loosened his grip on Jack’s wrist and touched his tongue to his lower lip, where he could feel the faintest impression of teeth, although he couldn’t remember Jack biting him.
“I’d apologize for that,” Rhys said. “But I don’t want to make it worse.”
Jack smirked. “I’ll give you a pass this time for knowing what you did wrong.”
“Thanks,” Rhys said instead. “For everything.”
Lips pressed against his again, gentler this time but still compelling. Then Jack stood tall, looking way less on edge.
“Don’t mention it, sunshine.”
What Rhys remembered best months later wasn’t Jack helping him connect the new prosthetic or reclining in the bed together, eating sushi and making fun of infomercials until the lead doctor arrived. Rhys remembered how time seemed to slow then.
It was not something that had felt stuck or stuttering as if they needed to sort through anything that happened. But as if they were finally on the same page, the one that could sustain them and had ever since.