Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

you find him, almost dead. you're ready to get the hell out but you hear the airlock alarm and he's there.

you bring him on the ship. you don't think about it, ask yourself questions. at various points he's more or less conscious. don't dare consider speaking to him. why think about him? think about how you won. you crushed them.

it's not like you feel bad about bringing him with you: they left miranda fucking pryce alive. yeah yeah, something something no memories. but still, miranda pryce, really?

are you and him on the same side? are there sides anymore? according to what the others say aloud the answer to the latter question is no, but the way they act says the answer to both is yes. what of your loyalty to him? you hope it's dead. it's not. you spend four years following him around like a dog and you think you can wash him off you just because he's a coward, just because he let your friend die, let them put some chip in your brain, was willing to let them end humanity. no, of course not. it's enough to make you hate him, want him dead, try to get him dead, but not enough to kill your loyalty.

you did save his life. but you did that for everyone. god, you're really holding this whole thing together. they should bow to you like a god. if you didn't go back for him you wouldn't have earned your 20. definitely worth it.

he's in the medical bay. you haven't seen him since you brought him there. you don't let yourself wonder what happened before you found him. lovelace tells you he wants to see you. you refuse. you refuse for days. your gunshot wound could probably be healing better but you can't go in there.

"fuck him," you tell her.

"hey i agree... but i think he might have something you need to hear."

"what the fuck could he have to say that that i want to hear."

eventually he's stable, feels a lot longer than it is. you avoid him as best you can. you're angry at him and you're worried you're not angry enough. you should hate him more than you do. don't look a gift horse in the mouth. don't wonder why he hadn't come looking for you yet. if you're profoundly lucky the next five and half months could pass without ever speaking.

try not to think about anything related to him or to her or anything that's happened since may.

Chapter Text

eventually he comes to find you. you're pouring yourself a coffee. you hear his footsteps. god bless this fancy fucking spaceship and it's fancy fucking gravity. you don't turn to look at him. you pour the cream. he leans against the counter. you feel him looking at you.

you give in, "hey." you kind of look at him, it's not eye contact but it's close enough.

"hello. haven't seen you."

"yep."

what are you supposed to say to one another? people aren't supposed to speak after saying last words. "i'm sorry daniel— and goodbye." last words. a departing message. it's a good final message. it's horrible and thinking it about makes you want to cut your chest open and spill your organs out on the floor, but it's good. it's familiar, it's neat: you begging him for something and him all pretense and façade, all bigger picture.

he sounds a now like he wants to give you something— you almost would rather it be lie than truth, but you don't let yourself think that. at least then he would be acting as usual. your archetypes fulfilled. you don't want to want that. you don't want to long for your comfortable roles back. how could you want everything to be how it ever was now? but you do.

he's still looking at you. you take a sip of the coffee. god bless this fancy fucking spaceship and it's fancy fucking coffee.

he clears his throat. you can't seem to make yourself not respond, "what do you want?" you're looking at him now. 

"i'm not dead." 

"yeah i kinda noticed."

"thank you." you scoff, roll your eyes, look away. fuck him. 

you start to walk away. "jacobi."

"what the fuck do you want?" 

"i wanted to thank you. for saving my life."

"and you did. what do you want? 'you're welcome?' go fuck yourself."

"are you alright?"

"what."

"your gunshot wound: are you alright?"

"yes. now can i drink my coffee?"

"i spoke to minkowski and lovelace. they filled me in on their side of the... event. and i did the same for them."

"yeah yeah whatever."

"have you been told this already?"

"no. i just don't care."

he tells you anyway. of course it makes sense. you've been trying not to realize. why else would he be where he was? why else would they have vented him? you had space in your head for two options: he comes with you and he doesn't. he didn't and yet he's here. he didn't and he did. he did what he always does. he played the fucking game. he focused on the bigger goddamn picture.

"what? you want me to thank you?"

"i thought you should know." fuck him.

then eiffel walks in, takes you out of your misery. you knew he would be good for something someday.

Chapter Text

here's the thing: you won. you won and he helped you win. he betrayed them, not you. but he betrayed you too. you're still angry.

what do you have to be angry about? when it came down to it he was on your side— the side of humanity— even if you didn't know it. you're tired of not knowing what side he's on.

you were angry about everything crazy. the mind control and the end of fucking world. now you're just angry about everything normal. well, normal to you.

is it your fault? is it his fault? is their fault? what do you mean by "fault"? minkowski says it's not anyone's fault, or it's everyone's fault. maybe you don't deserve your 20. what do you mean by "it"? her death? you won, you stopped the master plan. and you helped it along for years. maybe if you were a good guy that's what you'd be focused on, but you're a person and all you can think about is her.

there was something clean in him not being on your side. you could write him off. he's evil. he's not human. you could blame him for more and blame yourself for less.

why did he get to live when she died? (this is a more comfortable question than "why did you get to live when she died?" anger is easier than guilt. both are easier than grief.) if they both died, if you all died, maybe there'd be some balance, but there isn't. you two are alive and she's not.

you don't have much in terms of advice for your former self. plenty of regrets but they feel unavoidable, pre-determined.

you could try for the advice anyway. here are some ideas: don't listen to pretty older men in dark bars buying you expensive drinks. don't follow him to the ends of the earth. don't suck him off the in airport in buenos aires. definitely don't follow him past the end of the earth. don't let him get your best friend dead.

is there a world in which these things don't happen? doesn't feel like it. you could have done everything differently but you never would have— knowing yourself.

it's not just his fault. it's not just your fault. it's not just minkowski or the goddard cunts. more than anything just keep going. try to live with who you are and who she isn't anymore. at least until you get to earth you still have an objective. take the next step. try not to get anyone else dead.

then he walks into the room, "jacobi."

you meet his eyes.

"i was wrong," he says, "and people died. and the only thing i can do is not be wrong again."

you swallow absurdly hard. you want to say "fuck you." but you just say "yeah..." and you somehow sort of forgive him though you don't know what for. you still don't speak more than strictly necessary in the months it takes to return to earth.

Chapter Text

it's just you and him. alone together. it's been happening more frequently, that it's you two alone. there used to always be other people. or at least other problems to fix, not just the problem of yourselves. but it's just you and him. in a some gas station diner. avoiding eye contact. trying to avoid eye contact. it shouldn't be this hard, just to not look somewhere. but every time you look away you feel him staring into you. and every time you look back he's looked away. it's infuriating. terrible coffees. terrible hamburgers. fluorescent lights.

you do like gas station diners, especially terrible ones. didn't realize you missed them up there. partially, yeah, you like the smell of the gasoline. (she used to make fun of you for having such a defined brand.) but that's not all. you like the buzz and flicker of the lights. the creamer packets, the sticky tables, the boring stock art. it's comforting. some of them have those signs. (you really love those, also on brand though— neon.)

he meets your eye. you were hoping he wouldn't. why is he here? why are you here? its weird that you're not saying anything and it'd be weird if you spoke.

you don't know what to do with the fact that you two are sitting here at this diner and she's not. she's not not because she's sitting on the floor of your motel room furiously typing, texting you to bring her back a slice of key lime pie. she's not here because she's not anywhere. that's weird. you worked for the si5 for two years before maxwell came. you lived for 30. apparently you forgot how. or you just don't have anything to blow up.

you're unemployed and legally dead and your best friend slash ex-coworker is really dead and your ex-boss is sitting across from you.

what is your relationship meant to be now? you never knew him when you weren't his under his authority. never except that one night in the bar. what are you supposed to say to each other? what in the hell are you supposed to do next?

it's like the two years after you got fired from the air force. nothing next to do. people dead because of you. (this time the guilt acknowledged at least.)

you've never had an direction. dad wants you to do this, and you do the closest thing you're allowed to. get fired and follow around the next guy you meet in a bar. who's telling you what to do right now?

the others must feel like they've been freed, but more than the others you two went where you did of your own volition.

"what are we doing?", you ask him.

"getting a meal."

"let's imagine people could plan further than twenty minutes into the future."

"not something i've known you to do."

"sure whatever but it's all you ever do."

he shrugs.