Timothy was finding it far harder to wake up the following morning than he probably should have. Despite the violent murder of his employer – admittedly, his bad – and that thing with Nisha, Timothy had managed to sleep rather soundly throughout the night. It must've been the mattress. Made out of some substance too expensive for him to recognize, sleeping on it was akin to resting on a cloud made of tits borne aloft by orphan children. Perhaps breasts had just been on his mind since his unusual encounter with Jack's girlfriend last night. 'Personality quirks' aside, that was the most memorable pair mammaries he'd ever set eyes on.

Deciding that dwelling on that particular memory was going to have the wrong part of him on the rise, Timothy resolutely crawled out of bed. He had until mid-afternoon to scour Jack's quarters for anything that could help him convincingly play the part. All I have to do is figure out enough to fool everyone I meet into thinking I'm as smart as the head of Hyperion's R&D division and… I'm so fucked. With that happy conclusion dominating his thoughts, he decided to turn his attention to the bedroom.

However, after almost most ten minutes of searching, Timothy was no closer to understanding the egomaniac's mind than he was before. Well, maybe slightly closer. He now knew two things about Jack he hadn't before: first, that the man owned more clothing than any three males combined; and second, he apparently also used reading glasses. Oh what the hell. Timothy felt a renewed surge of hatred for the man. Corrective eye surgery had been one many of the operations Timothy had to endure because Jack doesn't wear glasses. Deciding that the bedroom was going to prove fruitless in his search, he turned his attention to combing through the rest of the apartment.

Timothy decided to forgo investigating the living area since his initial survey last night didn't leave him with the impression that Jack had stored any super secret sensitive documents there. Instead, he turned his attention to the other doors that lined the hallway. Picking one at random, Timothy discovered what he assumed to be a spare guest bedroom. A quick glance around of the room confirmed his suspicion that it was in fact just a spare bedroom and not a secret entrance to the Jack Cave. The second door proved just as underwhelming as the first. Finding that the bathroom was also exactly what it appeared to be, he made his way to the last door of the hall – and was promptly blocked.

"Authorization code required."

"Fuck."

"Access denied: invalid authorization code."

"Shit."

"Access denied: invalid authorization code."

"Shutup!"

"Access denied: invalid authorization code."

Timothy was pretty sure that the supposedly monotone voice that responded to him was actually getting more smug with each rejection. There's no way this wasn't what he was looking for. He'd hit the literal jack-pot only to trip a foot from the finish line. And something told him that he wasn't about to find the password scribbled down on a piece of paper in Jack's office. It looked like he'd have to rely on Plan B for now: bullshitting.

As it turned out, bullshitting his way through Jack's meetings was a surprisingly easy feat. All he had to do was either outright reject someone's idea or agree to 'take it into consideration.' Upgrades to living spaces for the workers: rejected. Casual Fridays: REJECTED! Increased supplies of oxygen for the Extravehicular Repair Workers: under consideration. Most of his meetings were actually spent doodling on a notepad and trying to act like he understood the technical jargon being thrown around. And boy, there was a lot of it.

What the hell was 'carbon tetrachloride' and why did they need so much anyway? Looking down at the requisition form, he finally found an answer near the bottom of the page. Fire extinguisher fluid: why the fuck couldn't it just say that at THE TOP OF THE PAGE. The stack of requisition forms on his desk was three inches thick and only seemed to be growing thicker as the day progressed. Even if he wasn't an accountant, Timothy wasn't blind enough to miss the amount of resources the station's construction was burning through. He had to wonder how Jack had managed to get funding for all of his pet projects.

Timothy was actually finding it laughably easy to be Jack. Of course, having everyone too fearful of being 'let go' to actually question his decisions was probably helping him out a bit - not that he was complaining. In fact, the only social interaction he had gotten so far was when Jack's secretary had brought him lunch. Though he hadn't asked for it, Timothy was grateful for the food since he had already eaten most of the pretzels from their glass dish on the desk. The steak and salad were worlds better than anything he had ever tasted. If this what being Handsome Jack entailed, he didn't feel like changing anything for the foreseeable future.

Of course, as is often the case, it was change that ultimately found him.

His fourth day as Jack found Timothy once again sitting alone in the office. The locked door in his apartment still eluded him and he was starting to get tired of its smug voice constantly rejecting him. After more than a hundred attempts, the door had cheerfully informed him that it would have reported him to the 'proper authorities' by now if it were capable. From that, Timothy surmised that the room and its contents was off the station's grid. His impatience was finally getting to the point where he had contemplated obtaining explosives from one of the construction crews and blowing the snobbish door off its hinges. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that any type of explosion would set off alarms and bring unwanted attention.

Speaking of unwanted attention, keeping his new girlfriend busy and away from his bed had taken every bit of creativity on his part. Of course, Hyperion supply lines on Pandora were always getting raided by bandits, but Nisha and Wilhelm were all too happy to take care of the problem. Timothy had also dodged out of several calls from Tassiter - much to the chagrin of his secretary. At this point, he was turning the act of avoiding people and their questions into an art form.

As it was, Timothy entertained himself by attempting to balance a pen on his nose to pass the time until his next meeting. The sudden beeping of the intercom startled him enough to nearly put said pen in his eye. Straightening up in his chair with a mumbled curse, he pressed down on the intercom button to reply.

"I'm kinda busy here, Babe."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but you have a - why is there a pen mark on your face?"

"Aaa critical pen… failure?" Timothy cleared his throat. "Now what were you were saying?"

"Sir, our shipping department just received a container addressed specially to you."

"Great, send it on up."

The secretary shook her head, "I'm afraid that's impossible, Sir. The container is too large for the elevator."

Seriously? "How big are we talkin' here?"

"Well, it's a standard size transport container," she replied patiently.

Oh, well that was pretty big then. "Okaaay, I guess I'll head over to receiving then."

"Very good, Sir. The container is currently being processed at the level 6 receiving center in the left wing."

Timothy removed his jacket from the back of his chair and threw it on as he left the office. Curiosity lent a slight spring to his step as he wondered what he was about to find.

"Yeah, we got'er stored over here. Had to be pretty careful moving her since the thing was marked with about a dozen different warning labels," the chatty overseer beckoned Timothy over towards one of the loading bays.

The receiving center was abuzz with activity. Loaders, surveyors, and engineers slowly navigated the docking bay as they categorized and sorted the arriving shipments. Across the way, Timothy could see the bulk of Hyperion transport ships as they were loaded with containers of refined eridium for their return trip. It was easy to forget just how big Helios Station was until you saw the massive transports resting like toys in their berths. With the force fields serving as the only barrier between the workers and space, he had a remarkably clear view of the planet below. It looked nice enough from up here, but everything Timothy knew about that planet described it as a hell hole.

As they approached a cordoned off area of the dock, the overseer continued his one-sided conversation, "Fragile, biohazard, flammable, corrosive, radioactive; I'm not even sure I want to know what's in this thing anymore." The two of them finally approached the container in question. Aside from the dozen or so stickers on the door, it seemed innocent enough. They finally stopped in front of the door and the overseer handed him a datapad. "Well, it's all yours now. I just need ya to sign this to take custody of it."

"You mean you aren't going to check out the contents before you turn it over to me?"

"Nope. The instructions were very specific: your eyes only."

This was ridiculous, "How do you know it isn't going to kill me?"

"Doubt it, unless you're trying to off yourself. You're the one who sent it."

Timothy looked dubiously at the labels promising many grisly manners of death. He figured that Jack would never kill himself - the man was far too vain for that. Instead the labels must have served as a deterrent against nosey dock overseers. Seriously, the man wouldn't stop hovering at his shoulder.

With a practiced flourish that had taken ages to learn, Timothy signed the datapad. Even with the man's task compete, he nearly had to push the overseer out of the area. "Alllright, I'll take it from here. Thanks, Bud."

Timothy waited long enough for the man to vacate the area before he walked up to the container door. The biometric scanner phased over him at the touch of a button. "Identity confirmed. Access granted."

Timothy heard a quiet hitch as the mechanical locks on the door unlatched themselves. A hiss of gas escaped from the container as the seal on the door popped open. The door slowly lowered, and he saw a shaft of light emanating from inside. The tense atmosphere was almost tangible as he wondered at what he would find. Was this Jack's newest creation come to wreak havoc on his enemies? Whatever it was that Timothy had expected to find, it certainly wasn't what greeted him next.

"Hi, Dad."

Wait...Dad?

The silence hung heavily between Timothy and his newly acquired 'daughter' as they made their way back to his quarters. His mind reeled at the concept of Jack having offspring. Seriously, it just didn't make any sense – the man didn't care about anyone. How the hell was he supposed to keep his identity a secret from her? It was one thing to bullshit people that were afraid of him, but another thing entirely to play at being a father. She'll see right through me. As it was, Timothy was afraid to say anything at all in case it contradicted what she already knew. And I don't even know her name.

Then again, the girl that walked silently behind him wasn't exactly eliciting any conversation herself. Her hands rubbed nervously up and down her forearms as her eyes flitted between every object in the corridor. In fact, the only thing that she wasn't looking at was him - his face anyways. Every time he'd turn to get a look at her, her eyes would immediately dart away. Her sudden shift in behavior seemed strange to him after the enthusiasm of her initial greeting.

"Hi, Dad."

Wait...Dad? Timothy was fairly sure that the only thing keeping his mouth from hanging agape was the taut material of the mask. All activity in his brain ground to a halt as he tried to process this new revelation. What the hell was he supposed to do with this? This changed everything! How was he going to fool Jack's daughter? He was screwed now. There was just no way that – SAY SOMETHING YOU IDIOT!

"Oh, heeey… Kiddo. Hope you had a good trip." 'Good trip?' She was in a shipping container, you moron. Who the hell shipped their own family to meet them anyway? It's not not Jack couldn't have afforded the rates. What the hell was going on here? Looking back inside the container only managed to confuse him further. It was… plush. A couch, a bed, a pretty expensive looking computer setup. Most of the workers on the station didn't live as comfortably.

"It was okay, I guess. Kind of cramped though."

"Well, I'm sure we can fix that now," Timothy tried to offer a grin, but had a feeling it came off more like a grimace. Was she expecting him to hug her now or… or maybe give her a handshake?

"Hey, Dad…?"

Unused to the title, Timothy internally winced. "Yeah, Honey?"

"Is that… are you wearing a mask of your face?"

She doesn't know? Did she know about anything that had happened recently? Timothy suddenly saw a beacon of hope peeking through the clouds of his despair. Things might not be so impossible after all. But first, he needed time to think.

"Oh, this? Long story. How about we go somewhere a little more private than this-" he gestured to the docking bay around them, "-and I'll tell ya all about it."

The girl gave him something of a quizzical look. "If you say so. Aren't you worried about people seeing us?"

"Why? You're hardly the strangest company I've kept lately."

Of course, unable to think of anywhere else to go, Timothy had decided to take her back to his quarters. Now, about ten minutes later, they were almost at his apartment and he was only slightly closer to the concept of a plan than he had been before. It didn't help that any attempts at small talk during the trip were dead on arrival. Her entire demeanor was like a child in a group of strangers and he just didn't understand what was bothering her so much. She finally seemed to calm down once they were alone in the elevator, though she continued to remain silent all the way to his quarters.

"Biometric scan and voice authentication required," chimed the door.

"Heeey, let us in," he said as the blue light washed over him.

"Scan complete. Bio and voice signature confirmed. Come inside, Sexy."

The girl spared Timothy a roll of her eyes at that before brushing past him, apparently eager to be out of the exposed hallway. Nonplussed, he followed afterward. Entering the living area, he saw that she had taken a seat on one of the leather monstrosities that dominated the room. He debated with himself on whether or not to sit with her before noting the way she curled into herself at the end of the sofa and decided to take the armchair across from her instead. He still wasn't sure how he was going to handle this, but at least he had an inkling of an idea.

"So, about your face…?"

Here we go. "So… did I ever tell you about the Crazy Bitch that tried to blow up the moon?"

"I was aware of the situation on Elpis, but my information was limited. Hyperion only became aware of what was going until once it was already happening. I was surprised that you didn't try to contact me at the time."

Why would Jack have tried to contact her? It's not like she could have done anything for them. Looking at the petite jacket-swamped form of the girl across from him, Timothy was hard-pressed to imagine her swooping in to save the day. "Yeah, well it got a little hectic up here for a while. There wasn't much time for calls - what with trying to save the moon and all."

"I could have helped you," she retorted.

Timothy seriously doubted that, "I needed someone with a bit more firepower if you catch my drift." He decided to try and redirect the conversation since she seemed so pouty about the whole thing. "Doesn't matter, the point is that daddy ended up getting a little injured while he was saving the day. Let's just say my face met a really unyielding object and that bitch hits hard."

"DAD, language," she chided him.

What...? Since when had Handsome Jack ever given a fuck about his language. Timothy could remember more than a few choice phrases from their time surviving on the station together while they waited for his hired help to disable the jamming signal. How many times had he used the word 'taint' again? Maybe Jack was just one of those guys that didn't swear in front of his kids. Timothy was suddenly left with the disturbing realization that everything he knew about Jack's behaviors might be useless when it came to dealing with his daughter.

"Sorry, Pumpkin. See the thing is, daddy might be acting a just a little bit off because of this head injury. Probablyyy going to have a bit of memory loss too until it all starts coming back to me." Timothy waited on bated breath to see if she would take the bait since he had no more tricks up his sleeve this time.

"Oh, that explains a lot," she said after a moment's pause as he tried to ignore the sweat beading underneath his mask.

"Why's that, Sweetie?" Timothy was genuinely curious as to what her answer would be, but at the same time was afraid of overplaying his hand. The last thing he wanted was for her to start asking too many questions.

Her fingers plucked absently at the edge of her jacket as she continued, "I was kind of wondering why you brought me here. We tried so hard to keep my arrival a secret and now everyone saw me walking through the station."

That explained the shipping container at least. On the other hand, that only left more questions as to why Jack felt the need to keep his daughter a secret in the first place. "Oh, I'm sure it won't be a problem. Every guy has to have picked up a girl from a shipping container at some point… right?"

A small curl of a smile graced her features for the first time. "I don't think it works like that, Dad."

"Eh, what's the worst that can happen? Everyone thinks I have a mail order bride? I think we'll survive."

"DAD – gross!" One of the throw pillows lived up to its namesake as she chucked it across the coffee table at him with a laugh.

Timothy grabbed it out of the air just in time to toss it back at her. "No throwing pillows, young lady," he said in a mock-serious tone.

He couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Here he was having a pillow fight with the daughter of the same man that had advocated killing an entire town of people not four days ago and it felt so… normal. He really just didn't understand what kind of relationship the two of them shared. She had to be aware what kind of man her father was, right?

Quite suddenly, the smile on her face vanished almost as quickly as it appeared and she hugged the pillow tightly. "So, are we going to see my new room?"

Whoa, mood shift much? He couldn't understand why the prospect of seeing her room was such a downer. Wasn't that what the extra bedroom down the hall was for? "Well, I thought you could stay with me, if that's okaaay?"

"What?" Her start of surprise caught him off guard.

"Yeah, your room's just right down the hall if you want to go check it out." Timothy left his seat on the couch and gestured for her to follow.

"You put it here?!" She stopped short behind him as she visibly tensed up.

Timothy laughed off the question, "Of course it's here. Where else would I put it?"

"I just wasn't expecting it to be so… close."

He wasn't exactly sure how to respond to that. "Well, it is." Reaching their destination, Timothy hit a button on the keypad to open the door. "Here you go, Kiddo. It's all yours."

"Dad, this is a bedroom," she said, hovering in the doorway.

He didn't know what she was expecting, "...Yeah, and it's all yours."

She finally stepped into the room and slowly turned on the spot, inspecting it from all directions. The tension seemed to drain from her body the more she looked around. "I don't understand."

Was she dense? "What's there to understand? You sleep in it. You put your shi-stuff in it. Hopefully you use it for showering every now and again."

"Don't you think it's dangerous?"

"I guess the corners on the dresser are a little sharp. I could have someone file those down if you want."

The girl looked down at her feet for a second before turning a searching gaze on his face. It was the first time she had looked directly at him all night. "You really don't remember, do you?"

Oh shit. Timothy masked his panic with a pained expression. "Sorry, Sweetie, but I really don't."

"I meant... I'm dangerous." With a sigh, she nervously brushed her hair back behind her ear and Timothy couldn't help but notice the gigantic implants that dominated the right side of her head. Whoa, that's… different. He could draw no conclusions of their purpose by looking at them, but they certainly looked like they would have hurt to put in.

Looking at the tiny form of the girl standing before him, Timothy had a hard time imagining her as a violent psychopath – he'd seen plenty of those. By comparison, it looked like a strong breeze might be enough to blow her over. "Well, you seem alright to me. You feeling any urges to go on a killing spree right now?"

Her hands dropped to her hips. "Of course not, I never meant to hurt anyone."

"Then what's the problem?"

"...Nothing, I guess."

"Well, then it's settled. Just try not to burn the place down while I'm working." Looking at the metal walls of the apartment, he figured it probably wasn't an issue anyway. Caught up in his own thoughts, Timothy was almost knocked off his feet at the sudden tackle of arms around his waist. Oh, we got a hugger.

"Thanks, Dad," she mumbled into his shirt with a sniffle.

His arms hovered indecisively over her back as he debated on whether or not to return the gesture. He finally settled for awkwardly patting her back. He wasn't sure what to say to her. He was out of his element: he'd stepped on a landmine he hadn't expected and now he wasn't sure how to get off of it. God, being a father was exhausting.

"You uh… you gonna be okay?" He said at last.

Her only response was the nod of her head against his chest.

A couple of hours later found the two of them moving the contents of the shipping container into her new room. While he had enlisted several loader bots in transporting its contents up to his quarters, the bots were too large to fit through the doorway without scratching the hell out of everything – a fact that he had just learned through experience. Instead it fell to himself and the girl – whose name still eluded him – to tote the baggage to her bedroom.

Aside from the usual clothing and necessities a person would have, the main thing that took up most of their time was the largest personal computer Timothy had ever seen. There were no identifying markings on it and he was left to assume that it was a custom setup specially made for her. Having surreptitiously glanced at the implants at the side of her head once or twice, he was starting to wonder if there might be more to them than he had first guessed.

The heavy lifting done, he left her to organize her personal belongings as he once again stepped in front of the locked door he had yet to unravel. With a new direction to try, he decided to test his luck.

Timothy started firing off words in quick succession, "Dad, daddy, sweetie…. uhhh sweetheart, kid, kiddo, dear, dearest, angel –" The sudden response from the other room brought him up short.

"What, Dad?"

Huh. It couldn't be that simple, could it? He tested it once more to be sure. "Angel!"

"Yes?"

Timothy was floored. Holy crap - it is that simple. Of course Jack would name his own daughter after a term of endearment. His mini-celebration was interrupted as said daughter peeked out at him.

"What is it, Dad?"

"Sorry, I was just trying to remember the password for this door over here. It's been driving me nuts lately."

As if on cue, the door threw back it's usual response: "Access denied: invalid authorization code."

Angel looked at the door a moment before turning to him. "I could open that for you if you want."

Timothy was doubtful, but it wasn't like he had any better ideas. "Sure, have at it."

She removed her jacket to reveal a set of oddly familiar tattoos before she stepped up to the control panel. Laying her hand softly on the panel, Angel's breathing began to deepen as her eyes slipped closed. Is she going to caress it into submission? Any misgivings Timothy might have had were suddenly silenced as the tattoos on her arm began to glow with an unearthly luminescence. Several moments passed as he held his breath waiting for whatever would happen next.

"Access granted," chimed the now overly-polite voice of the security system. Suddenly, Timothy remembered all too clearly where he recognized those markings from.

HO-LY SHIT.

A/N: Yup, Angel has entered the building people. Given the direction our story is going to go, this character is going to play a much more direct part than she ever did in the series. As such, there's probably a couple of things we're going to have to clarify. First, the time frame this story takes place in. We guesstimate that, given how far along Helios Station was in the Pre-Sequel, it's about two years before the events of Borderlands 2. You just can't build something that massive that quickly, even with Borderlands technology. We also know that Hyperion had established a decent presence to the planet at this point so it also gives credence to this theory. Final fact of the matter is, that even if they said five years had passed between Borderlands 1 and 2, there's no way the Vault Hunters could have been resisting Jack this whole time: they would've lost.

This actually has a significant effect within the context of this story. A lot of the events we take for granted in Borderlands 2 haven't happened yet. The most important of these is that Jack never had the chance to obtain the Vault Key and Angel was never placed within the Control Core to charge it. As a result, the relationship between the two is significantly different than what we encounter in Borderlands 2. Since the Pre-Sequel rendered the ECHO logs in Borderlands 2 specifically about Jack's backstory non-canon, we've now been given a lot of wiggle room as to how we want to establish the relationship between these two characters.

Here's what we know: throughout Borderlands 1, Angel was quite willingly going along with all of Jack's plans. Though she may have been imprisoned, that doesn't necessarily ruin her relationship with him. The few ECHO logs we encounter in the Pre-Sequel that she was featured in show no change in their relationship at that point. Though the character is conspicuously absent from the game itself (seriously, it's the biggest plot hole of many in the game considering she could have solved most of the problems there by herself) we can at least headcanon our own explanation for it. However, since the events of Borderlands 2 never happen, her relationship never gets the chance to deteriorate to the point it reached in the game. So if things seem a little different at first, you now know why.

We can't think of anything else to add here so if there's any questions, feel free to leave them in a review or a PM. Thanks for reading!