[He sees it - how can he not? He knows sin an he knows sacrifice, and the picture she paints is appallingly clear. Angel with her blade - it would have been a blade - over her captor and victim, killing what she loves to save it, like her whole life in miniature. And alone. If she killed Rhys while Jack was out of it, how did she die?
There's a sudden, concentrated ache under his ribs, like his mortal heart is constricting, buckling under the thought of her being alone. Dignity be damned. Whatever unspoken rules of avoidance they have be damned. He switches the feed to video. If he can't hold her, at least he needs to see her face.]
video; STILL CRYING
There's a sudden, concentrated ache under his ribs, like his mortal heart is constricting, buckling under the thought of her being alone. Dignity be damned. Whatever unspoken rules of avoidance they have be damned. He switches the feed to video. If he can't hold her, at least he needs to see her face.]
Angel. Look at me.