Chapter Text
Jaeger agreed not to fight or run as long as he didn’t have to return to the hospital room. Construct or otherwise, he didn’t like the impersonal nature of medical rooms. Never had, never would. Kovacs looked nervous even after everything, but he obliged Jaeger.
They gathered up the little supplies that had been stocked in the room and Kovacs led the way out of the hospital.
It wasn’t as rundown as Jaeger had first realized. The third floor—the one that he had been staying on—was the only floor above the tree line and thus exposed to all the elements. The second and first floors were much cleaner and not falling apart as much.
When Jaeger stepped out of the front doors, he had to squint against the sunlight. A moment later, a headache formed right behind his eyes. He wasn’t even used to being outside, and he instinctively grabbed for Kovacs, pausing for a moment to let his eyes adjust. If this had been a fight, he would’ve been killed in a moment.
“Still sleeve-sick?” Kovacs asked.
Jaeger shook his head and then looked pointedly at him. “Not used to being outside.”
Kovacs smiled grimly and then continued walking. “This way,” he said. “Um, my spot is set up nearby.”
Jaeger frowned but followed. “Spot?”
Kovacs was quiet for a moment. “Home,” he finally said.
Jaeger swallowed sharply. Since when did Kovacs refer to a place as ‘home’? They had never settled down. Everywhere they slept was temporary—a foxhole, a hiding spot for a mission, a sleeve that was just a resting point until they could get back to themselves—and it was never home. Jaeger and Kovacs had never called anything home.
Jaeger wondered what else had changed while he had been spun down.
There was a short walk from the hospital to the streets of the rebellion camp. They had to be rebels. Or Quellists. What else would they be? Jaeger hugged his bag close to his chest as they walked, keeping his head down. It didn’t matter, people still stared.
Jaeger didn’t dare reach out for Kovacs. No matter what, he couldn’t risk showing how much he needed that support. As soon as anyone knew, it could be used against him. Jaeger forced himself to relax, letting the bag drop to his side. He straightened, put his shoulders back, and did his best to keep his head tall.
There were a lot more children than he anticipated.
Quellists were brainwashed adults, ones who didn’t understand the blessing of stacks. In Jaeger’s opinion, it was abusive to subject children to that sort of belief. How many had died since their parents stupidly believed that they were liberating themselves? Jaeger was typically following orders and didn’t care one way or another, but he hated to think of all of the needless innocent deaths. He usually tried not to think about it at all.
But here, there were dozens of children playing in the streets. Some of them had balls or wooden disks that they tossed back and forth. Several had hand-sewn dolls or stuffed animals. They smiled at Kovacs, like they recognized him, but as soon as they realized that Jaeger was walking behind him they froze in terror or ducked quickly into their homes.
Like they recognized him too.
Jaeger refused to make eye contact with the adults and just willed Kovacs to walk faster so he could get out of sight. He didn’t want to risk running anymore, now that feelings were a bit more complicated between them, but Jaeger didn’t feel completely comfortable either.
“Here,” Kovacs said, finally stopping at one building that was less rundown than the others but had obviously been patched up at some point. He pushed open the door for them, and Jaeger couldn’t get into the safety of the interior fast enough.
He stood carefully in the middle of the room, not sure what he was allowed to touch and what he wasn’t.
Kovacs sat down what he was carrying and half-pulled the shades, turning on the lights. Jaeger was surprised the place even had electricity. He stayed where he was as Kovacs moved around the space. He turned on the lights in a small kitchenette and began rummaging through the cupboards.
“Hungry?” he offered. Casually. Like there wasn’t anything weird about their situation at all.
Jaeger’s stomach growled. Three months without food—of course he was hungry. Did Kovacs even have to ask? What kind of food did a rebel outpost have? Something freeze dried. Or shelf stable. Jaeger had eaten shit while in the field, so really anything was fine with him.
He wouldn’t complain.
“Sit down,” Kovacs said.
It was an offer, not an order, but Jaeger was just glad to finally know what he was supposed to do. He set his bags and such down and took a seat on the sofa.
He wasn’t sure how to even sit normal. How relaxed should he be? He didn’t feel comfortable. When he was supposed to meet with Founders and other dignitaries, people that were so important that a single copy of their stacks was worth more than his entire existence, he knew how he was supposed to act. During these meetings, he was supposed to be a good little weapon, put on display, say as little as possible and speak when spoken to. Be a decoration that added to the room, not the conversation.
Jaeger figured that now was like one of those meetings.
He sat with his legs together, hands folded in his lap, eyes down. He watched Kovacs out of the corner of his eye. He moved around the kitchen like he belonged there, pulling out dishes and lighting a gas stove with a flintlock. He worked with as little noise as possible, except for the clatter of ceramic on ceramic or the clink of silverware.
“You’ll stay here,” he finally said. “Until we figure out something better.”
There was a long moment of silence when Jaeger didn’t say anything.
“I’ll need to talk to . . . . the others,” Kovacs continued. “Explain what happened. Until then, it’s best that you stay out of sight.”
Jaeger could stay out of sight. He was used to being as out of sight as possible. Put away when he wasn’t needed. Like a good weapon. Like always.
He wasn’t sure who the “others” were, but he could make a guess.
There were a few more minutes of silence as Kovacs cooked, before he turned everything off and loaded a tray, carrying everything over to Kovacs. He took the chair opposite of him. Probably so that he didn’t have to sit next to him.
The plate was piled with a rice and vegetable mix. The fried brown cubes next to it must be the protein. Probably not authentic. The mug was filled with something hot but didn’t smell like anything Jaeger had had before. He wasn’t sure what to make of it as a whole. Kovacs also hadn’t given him permission to eat, so Jaeger stayed where he was.
“Um, you can eat,” Kovacs said, as if he knew what Jaeger was waiting for. “The mug is tea. There’s a plant that grows in the forests around here that bloom flowers that can be brewed. We’ve found it helps with sleeve-sickness as well as general nausea.”
Jaeger picked up the plate as well as the fork Kovacs had given him. Metal, to his surprise. It could easily be turned into a weapon, but apparently that wasn’t what Kovacs was worried about at the moment.
A part of Jaeger knew he shouldn’t trust food, especially in a rebel camp, but as soon as he took his first bite, he couldn’t stop himself. It was overcooked and under seasoned, the tea wasn’t sweetened, and the protein was so obviously lab grown, and Jaeger ate it as fast as he could, barely chewing as he swallowed each bite.
The only reason it tasted even remotely good was probably the fact that he hadn’t eaten in three months.
Still, Jaeger cleaned the plate, scraping up every grain and smear of protein before finally setting the plate aside. He almost didn’t want to let go of it, as if he was letting go of food even if it was empty. He forced himself to set it down anyway as casually as possible, picking up the mug instead and holding it close to his chest.
He still hadn’t looked at Kovacs.
He was well aware of the position he was in now. Being outside the construct didn’t make him any less of a prisoner. And a kiss could be just as manipulative as coding.
“Um, you aren’t tired. . . . are you?” Kovacs asked. “There’s a bed—”
“No,” Jaeger said with a shake of his head. He wasn’t in any rush to go to sleep again.
“Well,” Kovacs said. “What do you want to do?”
That made Jaeger feel something. He stiffened and looked up before he could stop himself. He kept his expression carefully neutral though. He wasn’t that stupid.
“I want to talk about what happened,” he said. He clenched his hands around the mug harder than he meant to and then looked back down at his lap. “That . . . . memory you gave me. I . . . I think I remember, and then I don’t. I’m . . . . confused.” It felt bad to admit it. It felt awkward.
Kovacs shifted ever so slightly. Jaeger didn’t have to be looking at his face to see the way he tensed up, eyes going hard, his entire expression guarded. Jaeger knew how he looked when he got nervous, and Kovacs was clearly nervous.
“How . . . How much do you remember?” Kovacs finally asked.
What did Jaeger remember? What didn’t he remember? So much, of both.
“There was so much before,” he said. “The memory, I mean. Not a lot maybe, I . . . I don’t know.” He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, grinding hard enough that he saw stars and galaxies. It didn’t stop the memory playing on repeat in his mind, but at least he didn’t have to look at Kovacs.
Kovacs cleared his throat, and when he started speaking, it sounded like he was reciting a story.
“When the Founders first arrived on-planet, they thought they were alone. However, there was life beneath the surface of the planet and instead of leaving it undisturbed, as they were supposed to, they decided to kill everything off, in preparation for settling the planet.”
Jaeger . . . . knew that. He had known that. He had heard snippets of the story here and there. When you were just part of the house staff, people tended to forget that you even existed. Jaeger had heard more than he was supposed to on more than one occasion, but he knew better than to say anything. Keeping his mouth shut kept him alive.
“There was mass genocide in minutes,” Kovacs continued. “Of an entire species.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Jaeger asked.
“Because one survived,” Kovacs said. “And she wanted revenge for her species. She lived in Quellcrist Falconer’s stack, killing Founders with her body in exchange for sparing the rest of the planet’s population.”
Jaeger stiffened at her name. He didn’t like to think about her. She had taken Kovacs away from him. She was able to give Kovacs what he would never be able to provide. He shouldn’t let it get to him like how he let it, but he couldn’t stop himself.
If Kovacs noticed his reaction, he didn’t comment. “It . . . it entered your stack.”
And that’s what Jaeger remembered. Vaguely. He still had his face buried in his hands, but he could remember that.
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he mumbled. “I . . . there was something else inside of me.” It had wanted to hurt Quellcrist too, and Jaeger would have let it do that. He wouldn’t have even tried to stop it. But when it had tried to turn on Kovacs—that’s when Jaeger had tried to stop it. And it didn’t like when he fought back.
It had torn through his stack and mind. Jaeger remembered the pain, like a hot brand pressed against the back of his neck until it sunk through his skin. Sort of like a shock collar to make sure he obeyed. It hadn't worked perfectly. Jaeger hadn't hurt Kovacs, had he? No, he hadn't. He would've remembered that.
“I know,” Kovacs said.
Jaeger shook his head, still trying to make sense of the memory. “Not you,” he said. “But there was someone else. You were . . . I double-sleeved you.” He took a deep breath to steady himself, but it shuddered and he almost broke down. “The deal was, that if I killed the last envoy, then I could keep you. We could . . . . be together.”
The last words came out softer than he wanted, but he wasn’t about to say them again.
Kovacs was silent then. Of course he was.
What sort of deal was that? How desperate had Jaeger been? He was stupid to think that he would get any sort of ending that he wanted. He should know, after all these years, that soldiers didn’t get endings. At all. They were spun up again and again and again. As long as there was war and fighting, then there would be no ending for him.
“Did I . . . . did I kill him?” Jaeger asked. Is it over? was what he really wanted to ask.
Kovacs didn’t say anything for a moment, and fear and dread twisted itself in Jaeger’s stomach.
If the envoy wasn’t dead, then there was an uncompleted mission. Jaeger’s training didn’t allow that. He would have to leave and fight and hunt again. He couldn’t stop until the orders were completed. That was who he was.
“Yes,” Kovacs finally said. “He’s dead.”
Jaeger slumped in his seat, breathing a sigh of relief without meaning to letting his hands drop back to his lap. It was like a weight off his chest, and he could relax for a moment before he realized he didn’t have a mission after that. He didn’t have any more orders and really, what was he without orders? He was supposed to be spun down after he completed his orders not . . . . not kept in a sleeve.
He didn’t want to ask about Quellcrist. The bitch herself. He didn’t want to hear her name in Kovacs’s mouth.
“The rebels aren’t going to like you keeping me alive,” he said instead.
Kovacs looked genuinely confused then, and then he seemed to realize what Jaeger was talking about.
“This isn’t . . . . those people aren’t rebels,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the window. “This is a new settlement. Very new, but on a planet that’s already under the Protectorate. No one here knows who we are. No one knows who you are.”
Jaeger just buried his face again and crumpled in on himself. Because after losing Kovacs, being forgotten was his second biggest fear. Why live for so long—why let himself be kept alive for so long—if he was just going to be forgotten anyway? He didn’t want to let Kovacs know just how much the news hurt him, so he took a moment to pull himself together before looking back up at Kovacs.
He sat straight in his seat, shoulders back. He held his mug of tea loosely in his lap and forced his entire body to relax at once.
“Alright,” he said.
“Alright?” Kovacs said. “Alright? That’s all you have to say?”
Jaeger shrugged noncommittally. “What else am I supposed to say?”
Kovacs just sighed. “I don’t even know.”
Jaeger raised his mug of tea and took a drink so that he didn’t have to say anything. It helped draw out the silence between them, made it seem like there was nothing else to be said. And Kovacs didn’t say anything. Finally, he pushed himself to his feet, picking up the tray and carrying it back to the kitchen area. He turned on the sink and grabbed a rag, scrubbing and cleaning like nothing was the matter.
“Are you with . . . them?” Jaeger asked. Are you with her? He couldn’t bring himself to ask that. Not yet. He didn’t want to know that answer.
“Them?” Kovacs repeated. “The rebels? No. I don’t agree with their ideals. It . . . doesn’t make sense to me.”
Jaeger relaxed at that. It didn’t give him the most hope, but it was better than nothing.
“The other . . . the other Kovacs left me for her,” he murmured. He didn't like thinking about it, but it was the truth. "He left me for . . . for a rebellion."
Kovacs didn’t say anything for a moment, just finished washing up and setting the dishes aside to air dry. He dried off his hands before preparing himself a cup of tea. He returned to his seat then, settling back down. Jaeger almost thought the conversation would end there, and that they would talk about something else, anything else. Anything besides Jaeger.
“That wasn’t me,” Kovacs said. “I’m . . . . I’m sorry.”
So they were still talking about Jaeger.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jaeger said.
Kovacs sat back in his seat and looked idly out the window, apparently lost in thought. The shades were only half drawn, and the planet was experiencing a sunset, that transition to nighttime. It wasn’t the same as a traditional Earthian sunset. The sunlight or starlight or whatever was violently red, streaming through the window like streaks of blood. Maybe that was the atmosphere or maybe it was the source of the planet’s light, Jaeger didn’t know.
All he knew was how it looked falling across Kovacs’s face. The shadows on his neck and eyes. The way it bled down his collarbones and over his shirt.
And Jaeger wondered how stupid he had to be to let his heart get broken by the same person thousands of time.