[And it's just about then, once he's touched this ghost of a man that he should've known for years and hasn't, once their hands have clasped and severed and they're left exchanging promises and smiles in a train car where neither of them belong, but one will stay — it's then that Jotaro feels the world go a little bit wrong, and abruptly knows exactly what Star Platinum must be doing topside at that precise moment.
It hits him like a punch to the gut, the recognition that his immediate thought is no.
No, not yet. Please, not yet, just a little longer, five seconds longer —
But he's the only one left, and his mother's life is still hanging in the balance. Family is important.
So he sets his shoulders, and puts his hands back in his pockets where they belong, and steels himself in preparation for what he knows is coming even if he doesn't know how it will come to pass (maybe he'll just disappear, maybe he'll blink and reopen his eyes to Cairo and not this, he doesn't know but it makes him not want to blink for as long as he can), and he reminds himself of a name that he's going to add to the list of the dead he's going to carry inside him from now on.
Caesar Zeppeli. My grandfather's friend.]
My time here's up...padrino.
[He does everything he can to make sure it comes out calm and steady, and not as desperate and urgent as he feels.
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[And it's just about then, once he's touched this ghost of a man that he should've known for years and hasn't, once their hands have clasped and severed and they're left exchanging promises and smiles in a train car where neither of them belong, but one will stay — it's then that Jotaro feels the world go a little bit wrong, and abruptly knows exactly what Star Platinum must be doing topside at that precise moment.
It hits him like a punch to the gut, the recognition that his immediate thought is no.
No, not yet. Please, not yet, just a little longer, five seconds longer —
But he's the only one left, and his mother's life is still hanging in the balance. Family is important.
So he sets his shoulders, and puts his hands back in his pockets where they belong, and steels himself in preparation for what he knows is coming even if he doesn't know how it will come to pass (maybe he'll just disappear, maybe he'll blink and reopen his eyes to Cairo and not this, he doesn't know but it makes him not want to blink for as long as he can), and he reminds himself of a name that he's going to add to the list of the dead he's going to carry inside him from now on.
Caesar Zeppeli. My grandfather's friend.]
My time here's up...padrino.
[He does everything he can to make sure it comes out calm and steady, and not as desperate and urgent as he feels.
He doesn't succeed, but bless him, he tried.]