Jack felt the pain, but something in him refused to let him cry out. Jack couldn't decide if it was his own pride or perhaps the knowledge that he deserved this, but whatever it was wouldn't let him utter a sound. Jack felt everything, the pain he'd caused others, the pain within himself, the pain of the ones he failed to protect, everything. He looked onward, deeper down the throat, hoping it would eventually end. Jack began to shiver, only now realizing just how cold it was in here. 'This isn't simply random...' he thought darkly, 'This cold... It signifies the coldness of my own heart. I traded the others like chattel, I left Draco to die in Zaida's lair, I shot the woman I loved... I can't even remember what love feels like. Everything seems so distant. Did I truly love her? Did I shoot her on accident, or was I so spiteful that I deliberately put a bullet to her...?' Jack's chest began to ache, as though something was missing, something important. Jack wriggled a bit and got his hand to the spot, where he found a hole that felt like it was left by a .357 Magnum. 'I killed her...' he thought dismally, 'I shot her when all she did was try to help me. My accomplishments? What have I ever accomplished? I've brought about the deaths of over ten people, people who cared about me, people who deserved better. I want to make this right, but is it even my choice anymore? Is there any conceivable way to fix things? Everything seems so impossible, I'm... I'm afraid... I want to die...'