Wandering Souls Always Wander Home

Twelve Years Later:

Morning sunlight crept through the cracked blinds like an unwanted guest. Bright, brilliant little slivers of warmth that danced over messy bed sheets, over piles of clothing scattered across hardwood floor, over empty bottles of expensive booze and turned over glasses made of crystal. The pretty little clear containers shimmered in the luminous oranges and yellows, casting rainbows over the span of the walls.

The heat of the morning sun roused the sleeping form tangled in the mass of billowing sheets, a low groan slipping from chapped, dry lips. Heterochromatic green and blue orbs cracked open t the new day with an annoyed expression. The brunette hefted himself up onto unsteady elbows, the booze and the early nature of the morning colliding together into a downright vicious beast. A metal hand wisped through disheveled chocolate locks, hiding the lone silver streak amongst the others out of habit.

It was only then that he was aware of eyes trained upon him.

He turned his head lazily, cracking his neck loudly, trying to shake the rough night out of his bones.

"You're getting slower on the recovery there cowboy. Maybe you really are getting old." Came a sultry voice from the other side of the bed.

"Oh lay off it cupcake." Jack snarled gruffly, his voice rough and cracked with sleep.

His tired eyes swept over to his bed company tiredly.

She sat leaned back against the headboard of the grand bed like a queen on her throne, her glistening honey eyes slatted, a cigarette perched between her plump lips. Slender fingers drew the off brand cigarette from her mouth, purple lipstick staining the filter a dark plum. She expelled a long puff of smoke, allowing it to laze up into the air. Her demeanor was vicious, mighty and strong like a goddess amongst lowly men. She always had that aura about her. That was just one of the things Jack found the most intriguing about her. They way she held herself.

She was as poisonous as she was beautiful.

The sting of the toxins only made a man want her more. She was a hell of an enemy and a dangerous friend, keeping her as a lover was teetering on the edge of a death wish, but Jack always had been fond of tiptoeing on the dangerous side of things.

The older man sat up in the messy mass of bedding, a low growl rumbling up from the thick of his throat. His tongue felt like sandpaper against his teeth, the hollows of his maw left parched and dry by the alcohol lingering from the night before. Sleek metallic fingers scraped over his three day old stubble and the scratchy sound brought up another sigh of displeasure from his lungs.

The brunette lifted himself up off the large mattress, the springs groaning with the loss of weight. His feet were heavy as they padded across the span of the large room, feeling piercing yellow eyes watching with all the similarities of a lioness hunting her prey.

Jack offered her a half assed smile, the kind she knew wasn't genuine, but neither of them really much cared. There was never much emphasis upon if either one of them was really invested in the other. There were no rules of a healthy relationship laid out before them. Somewhere along the way the etiquette book for their existence together had been thrown into the wind and been long since covered by dust. They were simply two predators existing together, easier to be with one another than without. Their encounters were normally laced with alcohol, frantic sex and some off-world drugs that gave Jack just the right kick in the teeth he was looking for.

Nisha was mean, cold and hard to really comprehend. She had her moments when a sliver of kindness sifted its way through her hardened shell, but those were few and far between. She was the type of lover that was borderline enemy most the time. Sometimes Jack considered the fact that she might just be the one to off him; possibly strangle him in his sleep. But he'd gladly accept it if that was the way he'd go out.

If she wasn't going to be the one to do it, it'd most likely be some bandit, maybe a machinery accident. That was if the booze and drugs didn't get him first.

They'd most likely be the ones to get his goat if he was going to be totally honest with himself

He was tired, exhausted even.

Some days he was just ready for it. Some mornings he'd rather have just not gotten up.

The years had not been kind to him. They had been rough mistresses.

Jack slammed the bathroom door behind him and sighed into the silence of the room. The older man flattened his metal palms against the cold countertop, tired eyes flicking to the mask-less man staring back at him from the mirrors reflection. Jack grimaced at the man staring back at him. This man had greyer striping through his brunette locks. This man was unshaven and tired, bags clinging to the undersides of his sullen eyes and circles ringing around his sockets. This man hung like a puppet with all his pretty strings cut. This man was a sad sight, having just barely survived a night with too much booze and too little sane thought. He hadn't cared. More often than not he woke from nights like this, having drunk himself into a fine stupor in order to forget everything else. To allow his brain to fog and muddy, pushing out all the nightmares he was left with on a normal night.

Those same nightmares that replayed over and over again like old movie reels. He'd resorted to heavy sleeping pills at first and they were enough to take the edge off. They were enough to keep the dreams at bay. But the things were hungry dogs, never ceasing at biting and clawing at the back of his brain. They gnawed their way in after a while, despite the pills. So Jack had scrounged for increasingly heavier means of warding them away. More pills, then a combination of alcohol and pills, then drugs he'd had shipped in from far away planets. Drugs that left his nose numb and his mouth dry. But no matter how hard he fought them…the dreams always came back.

And they always came back hungry, frothing to eat at him, picking him away in pieces until there was nothing left but bleached bones.

The brunette grit up his teeth in a vicious grimace and his eyes darted over the all too familiar line of his ragged scar. Cutting through once beautiful features like a bad joke.

The recollection of last night's dream slithered back into his brain like snakes, vivid and twisting like living things.

He'd been lying in a bed, sort, billowing comforters swallowing him in a way that was actually comforting. It was a strange feeling, being in a bed without feeling constrained and panicked. For once…sleep…had felt like a welcome thing. He felt rested then, wrapped up in the sheets like a new gift. It was late, the windows dark, Elpis shimmering through like a great ghost in the midnight sky. The stars were spilled across the ebony abyss like a shaker of salt. They beauty reflected in his mismatched eyes and for once…he felt…calm. Like everything was right, and everything was perfect. In that moment he'd known it was a dream. Because those types of things no longer existed. Peace, a late evening spent wrapped in sheets that didn't feel like they could strangle him.

His breathing had come easy, his head clear, his eyes tired…but pleased. He could feel warmth beside him, and soft words that at first were just a mumble carried from distant lips. But then they were closer, a soft, warm mouth pressing against his ear and the words were crystal on Jack's senses.

"Can't sleep?" The presence asks, and then Jack could feel big palms sliding along the padding of his hips.

Jack didn't reply, and yet the other presence seemed to know the answer. He always knew.

He could read Jack like a book even if all the pages were torn and deformed. A book that had been pried open by the fingers of a fucking bandit, a vault hunter, a piece of Dahl scum.

Jack felt his stomach clench as the memory swirled.

That big form had been so tightly wrapped around him, a soft heartbeat against his back, and warm breath against his neck. Gentle fingers tilted Jack's chin to the side and those same soft lips pressed against the ragged skin of his scar. Something that was off limits for all others to touch and yet, Jack didn't flinch, only let the advancement happen. And somehow…it felt right.

It felt like home.

And then, it was over. A horrid dose of reality that Jack was never really ready for.

Jack shook his head, splashing water over his face in haste and grabbing his abandoned mask from the bathroom counter where it had been left the night prior. He grimaced and turned his back on the man in the mirror, adjusting the mask's clasps as he pressed it to his face, the soft material familiar and routine.

He shoved the door open with a tired hand and slowly strode back over to the bed where he settled himself back down. Nisha's eyes watched Jack with a slight sparkled of interest as the CEO seemed to get lost as he peered out the large window. The massive buildings stretched out as far as the eye could see, towering skyscrapers, bustling streets, people going about their lives safe, happy, civilized. This had once been the sad sight of Lynchwood but with the years and Jack's takeover of the planet, the city had grown into a grand thing. Half the planet had been morphed into these grand, beautiful cities. They were safe from the dwindling wilds of Pandora, the monsters, bandits and creatures being pushed farther and farther back into the worst parts of the planet. The colder regions that were deemed nearly unlivable, the dust, and other holes in the planet's surface. This was all Jack had ever wanted…and yet…now he had it…and it wasn't enough.

Jack's hand absent mindedly went to the chain that seemed to be hanging heavier around his neck.

The familiar dog tags were smooth against his cold fingers as he rotated them, the last piece he had left…of him.

"There a story behind those stupid things?" Nisha's voice cut through the silence like a well placed knife.

Jack did not offer her so much as a glance, simply continued to stare out the window with hollow eyes.

"There's a story behind everything kiddo." Jack answered gruffly.

"Seems like there's a pretty heavy story behind that. Hyperion CEO holdin' onto a pair of Dahl military tags, little strange there cowboy." Nisha chuckled as she put out her cigarette in the ash tray on the bedside.

Her nude caramel skin glistened in the sunlight as she shifted on the bed, heavy lashes fanning slowly over molten orbs.

Jack breathed in deeply, the sound whistling through gnashed teeth.

"I'm afraid that's too long of a story cupcake. And I've got a train to catch." Jack snarled as he lifted up and began dressing himself with heavy shoulders.

Nisha said nothing as she watched her flighty partner. She sighed as she watched the CEO collecting himself in a clumsy fashion, carefully tucking the dog tags in question beneath his sweater. She knew she'd hit a nerve with such a question. It was too personal for the normal way that the two of them operated.

"See you around baby. Thanks for the lay as always." Nisha purred as Jack made to leave, the door handle clutched in his fingers.

The CEO simply grunted in response and then was gone without another word.

Their relationship was never one that had room for long goodbyes. And that was just the way of the world.

The next hour was a blur of Hyperion guards flanking Jack's sides a he boarded the private train, the sleek yellow and chrome shimmering in the searing light of the Pandoran sun. The day's heat was already to near sweltering and it wasn't even noon. Just another reason Jack hated this part of Pandora. If Nisha wasn't such a precious asset, he wouldn't have ever set foot here. But she was just the type of drug he needed to keep his mind from falling into pieces. And just the type of power he needed to keep Lynchwood up and running when he wasn't around.

Jack slumped backward into the high end leather of the train seat, heavy boots propped up on lavish cushions. He'd already fetched himself a glass of whiskey, the small glass rocking in his chrome fingers, gently sloshing with the motion from the train. Such a fantastic, terrible lullaby to be rocked to.

Jack tipped the liquid to his lips and purred as it burned all the way down. A wicked burn, and the only thing he could really…feel anymore.

There was nothing much left to feel in the world. Pleasure had faded, power became boring. Nisha was a good fuck, and for a moment it allowed him to nearly grasp that same spark of satisfaction he'd once known. But it was always short lived. Like a firework, bursting in seconds and sputtering away into darkness. He didn't feel that same passion, that same raw, unbridled need that he so desperately wanted. It had been years since he'd felt that. No matter how much blood he spilled, or how many cities he built, there would always be that empty space that he could not fill.

Always.

Jack tipped the glass back and drained it, hurried hands quickly pouring himself another dose of golden brown liquid. He just needed more of the burn, more of the pain, and more of the mind blurring results. The finest of things lay around is seated position and yet nothing was enough.

His eyes watched lazily as the scenery flicked by, lavish greens and browns, growing cities in the distance and other railways heading in different directions. Civilization at its finest. It was beautiful and it was grand.

Jack sighed out lowly, running his tongue over the whites of his teeth. Some would call him greedy and maybe that was the truth. He would always want more no matter how much he already had. He would always be searching. Until his last breath he would always search. For that stupid man. That stupid, stupid man.

Jack chuckled to himself and tapped his finger on the side of the glass.

"So many years and I still can't stop. Fuckin' Vault Hunter…" Jack whispered to himself, eyes glossy and sad.

Liar's Berg.

One of the last civilizations that was neither Jack's nor was it bandit territory. On the cusp of civilization and the wild it sat as a sort of magnet for those that didn't want to be noticed. If Jack was going to be honest with himself, he should have snuffed it out some time ago…but there was just a certain allure to it that always kept drawing him back. He'd left the guards at the station, taking a lone vehicle out into the snow and none questioned his antics because they dared not ask Handsome Jack why he wanted to wander out into the frozen wastes on his own. All the questions fell on silent tongues.

The less than grand vehicle bounded and rocked as it went, Jack's knuckles near white on the steering wheel. It was the rush of the tires, the sense of freedom, but most of all it was the constant hunt. The desperate need to look. To look for the one thing he could never find. He knew it was a fruitless search, but the trip had become habit over the years and so he kept making it, even if it was a fools journey out into the cold.

The frigid land had become a sort of comfort. A place where he could just…exist. Not as Handsome Jack, but as a body double that had escaped Hyperion and was now out on his own, hiding from the very company that had bred him. It was a witty lie, one so good that when Jack was in character, he himself almost started believing it. He was just another victim of Handsome Jack's foolishness and those around him would give him sympathy. As Jack, he was either worshipped or loather, as a double he was treated like a human, like a friend.

The old runner bounded over the snow drifts, the wind pelting against the cabin of the old thing. Jack refused anything more than the basics to get him to his destination. Anything too flashy was too risky. This was the perfect vehicle for his perfect body double act.

The faint lights of Liar's Berg rose up out of the bleak, snow scorched waste and the pale golden hue was almost warming as it hit Jack's eyes. It was like coming home after a long stay somewhere very different. Coming back had become something he was eager for, even if every time he'd leave he would go disappointed.

With the runner tucked safely beneath one of the rickety barns butted up against the east side. The wind whistled past his ears like some crazed animal, the cold seeping beneath his plain brown jacket, his normal attire exchanged for something far more inconspicuous. His boots crunched the deep snow as his gloved fingers reached for the nearly frozen door handle.

The brunette pushed the door in with a heavy thud of his shoulder, his weight forcing it to yawn open and allow him entrance. The vicious cold invited itself in behind him, the man feeling eyes upon him instantly. But the gazes quickly wandered off, uncaring of who the newcomer was. Jack had lived all his life wanting others to know his name, bow before him, but now, here, he simply wanted to remain just another face in the crowd. He just wanted to be a wanderer and nothing more. This place was good for that kind of thing.

Jack settled himself down on one of the barstools, eyes peering up to the bartender, a witty woman with hair as black as ebony. She reminded Jack of Angel's mother in a far off way, a pang of past hurt running through his gut for a moment. She smiled in Jack's direction, a chip in her tooth prominent amongst the white of her grin. She sauntered over to Jack, the motion of her hips as graceful as water.

"Hey there, can I getcha a drink hun?" She asked, her voice gentle and even.

Jack pushed back the heavy hood that covered his head, some snow falling onto the bar before him. The woman's eyes flashed with something dark for a moment as she looked upon his face, bold scar heavy across his slender features. Though it muddied his appearance there was no mistaking who he resembled.

Jack smiled, as easily as he could manage.

"Don't worry. Just a double runnin' from Hyperion." He chuckled lightly.

The woman's demeanor seemed to lighten, a soundless sigh coming from her full lips.

"And whiskey, please cupcake." Jack tacked on the comment with a purr.

The wound that made him the ugliest, saved him the most here.

A familiar glass in hand Jack hunched over the bar, the warm, cheap, Pandoran whiskey biting at his tongue as he sipped it gently. He sat as an observer. Eyes wandering over the bustling room at a lazy pace. Searching every face, every sound of laughter, every movement. A constant game of listening to other's conversations, trying to pick up any knowledge he possibly could.

The hours wore on and his stomach was warm with the booze, his head fuzzy and his skin tingling. Jack could feel the anger settling there. The anger of coming here and not finding it again. He was always hunting…but when his prey was a ghost it complicated everything down to its core. Drink after drink Jack took them down, his eyes blurred and his mouth dry.

Chasing ghosts was a dangerous business.

One he'd become all to accustomed to.

The bar had settle down with the late hour, the laughter less prominent and the occupants having wandered away to their hotel rooms, or off into the night from which they came. Jack gently rocked his drink in his hand, watching his reflection distort in the honey colored liquid.

Suddenly there was a figure beside him, the big man taking a heavy seat on the barstool. Jack's eyes wandered to his right, curious of who the cold had vomited up now at such a late hour. The figure pushed back his skag skin hood, the thick material falling in a heavy heap behind his head.

Jack felt all the breath leave his lungs, like suddenly he'd simply forgotten how to force oxygen down his throat.

The figure smiled, slow and easy like molasses, gently shoving back the sleeves of his heavy cloak, bundling them around the crooks of his elbows.

Jack's eyes traced the man's arm, the left one, pupils traveling the twisting markings that carved over the skin like an alien map. It had been many years since Jack had seen markings like that.

Eyes collided hard as the two sat there at the bar.

Jack set his drink down on the bar, hands shaking so bad he feared he may just drop it.

"Been a long time boss." The sandy haired man whispered, the whites of his teeth glinting from behind thin lips.

"Been a real long time."

The old hotel room was dark. Shadows casting over peeling walls, bare wood peering through once bright pattered paper. The cold was kept at bay only by the body heat between the two men. Breaths coming together as lips found one another's frantically.

Jack's hands were hesitant at first.

It had been so long since he had touched him. But now, years having been kind and mentoring to the other man, Jack was free to feel, to kiss, to brush with eager hips.

Axton's breath was warm in his ear, not speaking words, only lending panting breaths and the occasional sound of utter bliss. Jack's metal fingers dug into suntanned flesh that was once so familiar, but now laid an untamed landscape. There were more scars than Jack remembered, more wounds of battles that Jack knew nothing of.

There was no talking about what the years had brought. There was no telling the other what had been missed in the six years of absence. All of that fell to the wayside, the need to simply feel each other being that much stronger.

Jack had many questions. All in which he swallowed down. Twelve years or training and Jack wanted every detail. Twelve years of days that had been spent apart and Jack wanted to know about them all.

Jack wasn't sure whether the moment would last. He wasn't sure for how long he would have this strange happening that felt too good to be true. He almost wanted to tell himself it was all a very elaborate dream. But the hips pressing against him, the hands touching him, the mouth so frantically kissing him, it was all too real.

The formalities would come later. For all he knew Axton would be gone in the morning. But all Jack cared about was the here, the now, and the beautiful, beautiful thing that the moment was.

The ghost he'd so long chased in the flesh before him.

Axton gently captured the brunette man's lips, the kiss sending fire through all of Jack's bones as the sound of weak mattress springs settled around them.

"Don't make me wait so long ever again Pet." Jack teased breathlessly.

Axton grinned at the teasing words.

"Never again Master." Axton whispered into the shell of Jack's ear.

It was all so real.

Every word, every touch, every whispered breath in the dark of the room. Those green eyes, those soft lips, the way Axton chuckled from deep down in his diaphragm. It all felt so real, so it had to be? Didn't it?

Jack's feet stuttered through the frost bitten snow drifts, faltering every three or four steps. He was far too drunk to have been walking, his skin prickling with the aftermath of six too many whiskeys that had settled deep down in his gut.

All the warm touches and the heated breaths scattered away in the presence of reality, the warm room giving way to nothing more than blizzard stripped wastelands.

But Jack's drunken eyes saw only what they wanted.

They only saw that hot passion that had once flickered so brightly, so long ago. The years had not dulled Jack's want for those times long past. In his drunken mind he had it all, everything he'd been searching for, everything he'd been lusting after. In his drunken eyes it was all so vivid and bright.

The lights from the old bar flickered farther and farther in the distance now, Jack's drunken, wandering body taking him far off into the snow, following ghosts that were no longer there. But the ghosts called out to him with enticing voices and he followed more than willingly.

He could hardly feel the biting cold slipping in-between the layers of his clothing, the ice forming on his boots, the sky brewing with a storm as monstrous as it was dangerous. But the billowing clouds, the howling wind, the clawing air, it all was but a blur to his hazy mind. His fantasies pushed him forward, his stupidity only allowed him to see what he wanted.

Pandora, the bar, Hyperion, Opportunity…it was all but a distant memory as he wandered out onto the ice, the ocean churning and writhing beneath the thickness.

Jack laughed up toward the sky as he nearly tripped and fell to the ground, his feet clumsy and heavy beneath him. Out on the span of the ice, he could swear he heard that old familiar voice calling out to him. Glittering eyes hid out in the darkness, and so he had to go to them.

What a dreadful place this planet was, all its monsters and all its hardships. And yet there Jack stood, and in his heart he knew, there was no worse monster than he. Of all the creeping things and all the crawling beasts, he was a level above. He was a monster all on his own.

Jack felt his throat clench as he ventured farther out toward the raging sea, his daft hearing ignorant to the cracking sounds beneath his boots.

He stood there a moment, the warmth in his body spreading out like a burning fire, the waves crashing only paces away, the ice shifting against the shore. What an angry thing, slopping at the ice like a hungry creature having come for its meal. It wanted him. It needed him. And he just wanted to let it have him. He was tired.

Tired of running, tired of lying, tired of living alone in the great city of many people and families. He was tired of the sleepless nights spent tossing in a bed that felt far too empty.

He longed to trace his fingers along familiar muscles, he longed to feel something other than emptiness. Too many times had he lost, too many times had he thrown what he'd had into the sea. Now he had nothing left to give to the great beast…

Except himself.

Jack's heavy boots trekked forward, the ice thinner, the ocean hungrier as it bellowed and called for him.

And then it finally gave, the ice no longer strong enough to hold him. He crashed through the solid form, body hitting the cold water below, the shock stealing all the breath from his lungs. Jack gasped, getting nothing more than a mouthful of frigid ocean water that rushed down his gullet like an uninvited guest. The ocean pushed and pulled him like he were merely another lonely piece of driftwood that had come from a distant shore.

The warmth from his drunken state dissipated near instantly. His eyes blinked skyward, no longer able to see the brewing sky, or the hole in the ice where he'd fallen into the storming sea. None of that mattered anyway. He simply allowed the weightlessness to take hold of him, bubbles escaping his mouth and rushing away erratically.

He could sense he was sinking, but just barely, his eyes were bleary, his lungs tightening with the need for oxygen. He desperately tried to gulp for air, only taking in more water, his body internally beginning to panic.

But none of it mattered.

He didn't care.

Here was safe, here was dark and here he could finally let all of the monsters go. He could let them dissolve out into the cold of the sea, let them run, let them hide, let them die…let them drown.

They had been allowed to live for far too long.

This was the way it had to be.

Jack could feel his vision darkening on the corners, closing in like blinds being drawn, and that was when he heard it.

Only this time…it wasn't just some drunken hallucination. This was far too real.

A low voice, gruff, experienced, jovial. Something like home, and finally Jack was returning to it.

"It's about damned time."

A broad smile, glittering emerald eyes, and hands that were warm on Jack's shoulders. Jack could feel his heart slowing but his eyes widening, a returned smile breaking across thin lips.

And with that his heavy lids slid closed.

The siren's feet were gentle on the dusty earth of the familiar path she walked. Sparse plant life broke the sun scorched earth and clawed up at her ankles dryly, its little buds having been simmered in the blistering heat, leaving them nothing more than withered reminders of life. Maya's eyes danced over the landscape, her movements slow and unhurried. She was on no schedule here, here everything was slow, and everything was easy.

The bandit camp that she had slowly morphed into a thriving city lay at the bottom of the large canyon as she looked back over her shoulder at it. It spread across the tight little space between the cliff walls, nestled safely in this little hideaway. Here Jack could not destroy what they had, too far into the maze of rocks and hills, even Jack was not stubborn enough to go looking for this place. And so they had stayed safe from Jack's hands.

Maya sighed as she turned and pressed onward.

Now she supposed everybody was safe from him.

He'd been missing for weeks, gone off the face of the planet like some ghost that had simply dissipated into thin air. Handsome Jack, had simply disappeared. Something so mysterious seemed so much unlike Jack's normal charades.

Maya was not sure how she felt about the entire thing.

Indifferent maybe. She knew some other Hyperion goon would soon take his place, rumor had it the Sheriff he'd appointed in Lynchwood was next in line for his throne, but frankly the Siren didn't much care either way. As long as her city stayed safe it was all the same in her eyes.

Maya's feet carried her upward, the view breathtaking as she peered out over the Dust like a queen atop her throne. She stopped for a moment, her hip dropping and her fingers finding her side. She let go of a great sigh and shook her head, a small smile breaking across blue painted lips.

It was a simple marker, made from old Technical parts and some pieces of wood. Stones set up in a little circle upon the dusty ground like a symbolic halo. Maya's feet crunched the dry earth as she approached the makeshift marker, her fingers reaching down to gently pick up the dried, dead flowers left at the base of the car parts. With that she replaced the dead plants with a new bundle of wild fire flowers, the innocent little petals laying brilliant red color against the bland tan of the dirt.

Maya sat on her knees slowly, a breath coming gently from between her teeth.

"Well Ax, I'm guessing you already heard. Jack's missing…but you know I got this funny feeling you know exactly where he is huh?" Maya chuckled dryly as her eyes flicked to the grave before her.

Her mind wandered back to the months before he went.

Nobody had known how the serum would effect a mere human. With unimaginable powers came a great toll. He'd aged far faster than a normal human, the wear of the siren magic eating away at his human body until it had finally just…given out. Maya had done all she could. She'd taught him when he was strong, she'd mentored him when his powers were at their peak. After five years the damage was made clear, Axton's body aging, breaking, becoming a brittle and painful thing. Human's were simply not made to become sirens.

She'd been the one holding his hand when he'd gone seven years ago.

She'd watched the light leave his pained eyes.

She'd spent so long blaming everybody around her.

Especially Jack.

She'd blamed that terrible monster for all of it. She still did in her heart.

But there was nothing to be done of it now, and Pandora had finally claimed its greatest threat. She knew how to sort out her business. Pandora had let Jack reign for a time, but his rule was over and it was time for the wild to take back what was hers.

Pandora always made things right.

Maya felt her throat clench and the oncoming tears were something she just couldn't seem to hold back.

She'd spent the last years relearning how to become friends with someone all over again. Through all the terrible horrors she'd seen Axton carry out, he had still been her friend. And he still remained that…wherever he was.

"No telling what Pandora has in store for us now huh big guy?" Maya sighed as she listened to the lonely rakks circling overhead on the subtle breeze.

After a long moment spent there, sitting in the warm dirt, feeling the sun on her pale face, she rose to her feet.

"You take care of yourself. Tell Jack I say hello." Maya whispered before turning her back and leaving the silent grave where it lay.