( It's a wholly unsatisfying answer, and Jack realizes with profoundly crushing disappointment that this... is not going to result in the catharsis he's unconsciously been seeking. Unloading his rage at Lucifer, fighting him, dragging him through memories or stabbing him or whatever, it's not going to feel good. It's not going to satisfy anything — and it's certainly not going to bring her back.
Great.
So now Lucifer's even robbed him of that, and not even on Jack's terms.
His shoulders slump. His eyes close, and for a second, it's all he can do to remain standing in shuttered, empty silence. Accepting this profound let-down of a realization, and absolutely despising it. Eventually, he drags a hand up to his face to grind his palm against his cheeks, to resentfully scrub away the evidence of tears.
He licks his lips. They feel simultaneously sticky and dry when he pries them apart, and his throat catches on the words whenever he gets around to making them. )
no subject
Great.
So now Lucifer's even robbed him of that, and not even on Jack's terms.
His shoulders slump. His eyes close, and for a second, it's all he can do to remain standing in shuttered, empty silence. Accepting this profound let-down of a realization, and absolutely despising it. Eventually, he drags a hand up to his face to grind his palm against his cheeks, to resentfully scrub away the evidence of tears.
He licks his lips. They feel simultaneously sticky and dry when he pries them apart, and his throat catches on the words whenever he gets around to making them. )
Just get out. Just leave me alone.