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Kepler is standing in the middle of the hangar bay, keeping his eyes to the floor. Riemann left a couple minutes ago, Young has better things to do, and Jacobi…
Jacobi is right there.
Kepler would see him, if he just looked up. He hasn't looked up much the past two weeks. Not exactly something Warren Kepler is known for, keeping his head down, and it makes him feel itchy and uncomfortable. He does it anyway, only here.
He looks Young right in the eyes because he knows she hates it so much, he looks Riemann right in the eyes because Kepler barely knows him but he hates him so much, and he would look Cutter in the eyes too, if he had actually seen him since they got here.
But- well. He hasn't looked up since the others left the room. If he does, he thinks, the thought feeling irrational and stupid, he might look at Jacobi, and Jacobi might look back at him. With his empty, vacant, constantly smiling eyes.
Jacobi used to smile all the time, when they were back on Earth. He was happy back then - probably, Kepler never asked but he must have been. He must have thought of what the three of them had as something he didn't want to lose, because now- well, until a few weeks ago at least, he's been-
But he's smiling again now, and if Kepler turned around and called him over, he'd do anything Kepler would tell him to. He's heard it from conversations with Riemann, the eager and soft-spoken yes, sir, and just thinking about it makes him feel sick.
So he keeps his head down, to make sure he doesn't look at Jacobi too much.
And the- the- the drones are ignoring him, too. There's work to be done, after all, right?
Thinking about it doesn’t sit right with him. It makes him feel trapped, like the walls are closing in, like there’s a hand wrapped around his throat, and-
Scared. Kepler is scared. Who would have thought he was still capable of a feeling like that?
He's been afraid before during this mission, of aliens, of a gun pointed at his head and a fake bomb waiting in engineering, but he hasn't been afraid to look at Jacobi before.
Not that he'd do anything if Kepler did. He'd just smile and ask what he can do for him. Almost… like old times. The difference is negligible, really. Jacobi just works better now, a machine that got an upgrade.
Is that how Pryce sees it? Did she consider it when she did the procedure, that Jacobi might be afraid? Did he beg her not to hurt him?
Didn't Kepler tell them Jacobi was trustworthy? Wasn't Kepler- wasn't he-
Wasn't he Jacobi's superior officer once? A superior officer protects their people.
But oh well. Look what happened to Maxwell, and you’ve got your answer.
Kepler feels like he's being watched. He refuses to pull up his shoulders, in case it's Pryce and Cutter watching.
Maybe Jacobi and the others are reporting back to them. They wouldn't have to speak to Kepler at all that way.
He should probably… do something. Anything. Something to remind them who he is, that he's an asset, someone worth having on their team.
He looks up, meets Jacobi's eyes for half a second, forgets what he was thinking about almost right away. He feels sick, forces it down.
Jacobi is his subordinate. Jacobi answers to him. There's no logical reason Kepler would be hesitant to look at him, or speak to him. No reason at all, unless- unless he'd gotten attached to the real Jacobi. The one without a collar around his neck and that constant empty smile that's starting to look strained on his face after so many hours.
But that would be foolish. Kepler doesn't get attached. He didn't get attached to Maxwell either - it's true, no matter how much it tastes like a lie, it has to be, or otherwise Jacobi would have never tried to kill him - so why would he start now?
So Kepler squares his shoulders and opens his mouth and ignores the way his voice sounds when he speaks.
"Mister Jacobi."
Jacobi looks up from the panel he's working on and beams at Kepler. It's a full-mouthed, open smile but it doesn't look one bit like what Kepler remembers (those days feeling so long ago Kepler isn't sure if they ever happened). "Yes, sir? What can I do for you?"
Kepler takes a deep breath. He lets his eyes wander over the rest of the room. Minkowski and Eiffel are both still at work; they don’t even look up. Presumably, they're also smiling, but apart from them, there's no one else here.
Hera might be listening. But Kepler thinks she has more important things to do right now, and she wouldn't be able to comment, either (another thought that makes him feel a little sick, just like the memory of the look on Pryce's face).
"Come over here for a second, will you?"
Jacobi glances at his work, but he puts down his tool and crosses the room towards Kepler anyway.
"Do you need something, sir? Is there a problem?" He has a quick look around, like he's looking for the task Kepler might have for him. Kepler shakes his head.
"No, it's all fine, just… sit with me for a moment?"
"Of course, sir," Jacobi says - same as always, right? - and Kepler ignores the glance he shoots at his panel, the way his fingers twitch, probably itching to get back to work.
They sit down on the side of the room. From here, Kepler has a great view of the other two. They still haven't looked up, haven't exchanged a single word. Kepler shivers, just a little. Jacobi is still looking at him, waiting patiently.
"How- how are you doing, Jacobi?"
He can't quite tell what the point of this is, honestly. What is he trying to prove? That he can make conversation with the empty shell of the person that used to follow him anywhere, trust him with his life? Why would Pryce and Cutter care about that? They can't care about Jacobi that much, or they would have listened to Kepler when he told them he was worth keeping.
He's looking at Jacobi intently now, looking for something he isn't sure how to name.
Maybe he's just looking for the old contempt, the one he aimed his way the entire time before the Sol arrived. Back then, it made him feel nauseous, like he swallowed a bucket full of ice. Now he thinks he might weep with relief if he saw Jacobi like it, or like anything, just for a second, and he would give plenty of things to see that, if just for-
Jacobi's slightly confused blink makes him come to his senses again. "I'm just great, sir. I've never felt better."
Never better, sir. Hasn't Kepler heard him say something like that before? Must have been a while ago, before they went to space. Maybe they weren't even on a mission, maybe Kepler walked up to him after coming out of the shower, getting Jacobi's shirt wet as he stepped up from behind, muttering the question as he-
Makes no sense to think about it now. It makes no sense to pick his words apart to find something that sounds like the real Jacobi. This- this body that used to belong to him isn't like him at all, from the way he carries himself to the look in his eyes, and maybe that's for the best, too. If there actually was something left of Jacobi behind the emptiness, Kepler isn't sure what he would do. Definitely not look at him like this and have a conversation, that's for sure.
Who knows, really? Maybe this is the best outcome Kepler could have hoped for. Like this, Jacobi isn't going to betray him again - that is, unless Pryce tells him to, of course - and Jacobi didn't die all the ways he was so worried about before, either. He wasn't replaced by an alien, he just- got an upgrade. The electric signals in his brain just got replaced with something a little better, a little smoother. Something that's better at that smile that makes Kepler shiver when he thinks about it for too long.
At least, and this thought makes Kepler feel a little sick, almost a little ashamed, maybe, Jacobi won't carry his grief on his face anymore, so openly it felt like a knife to the chest. That's a good thing, right? He's got nothing to be sad about now, and everyone knows just how miserable he was after the mutiny. There's nothing left of his terrified seething anger that could have ripped the station apart by itself. That can't be so bad.
(Even though, Kepler assumes, if Jacobi had the choice, he'd probably want it back. He'd probably rather have that than- well. Nothing.)
(Just like Lovelace said Kepler was nothing, minutes before she died the second time, and she was right. But now Jacobi is this, and Kepler is still here. Would Lovelace find that funny?)
(It’s been weeks since the Sol arrived here. It’s probably time for someone to laugh at this. It’s time for the punchline to hit.)
(What did Young say? Something about a full upgrade? Kepler supposes it’s only a few more days now. Enough time to make sure he’s not standing too close to laugh.)
“You’re not tired, hungry? You’ve been working for days.” Kepler keeps his eyes on Jacobi. Back on Earth, a phrase like that was always dangerous. It was bait, a chance for Jacobi to complain about whatever was bothering him that moment, and for Kepler to quote the handbook to him. They did it all the time, even when they were both tired of it. It was routine, it made sense.
“That’s no trouble.” Jacobi smiles and smiles and smiles. Kepler balls his hands into fists, looks away, then looks at Jacobi again, not wanting to miss something real peaking through the programmed expression. “I don’t mind. It’s nice to be of use.”
That almost makes Kepler laugh, because the thought of the real Jacobi saying this and actually meaning it is so strange. “That’s not an answer to the question,” he mutters.
Jacobi tilts his head to the side, looking confused for a moment. He doesn’t have an answer programmed to that, does he? Kepler looks down at Jacobi's hands, folded neatly in his lap. They’re dried out, the skin calloused, and if he didn’t keep them together this tightly, they’d be shaking too, probably.
“Is there something I can do for you, Colonel?” Jacobi has circled back to the first question, out of answers for now. Kepler should probably leave him alone.
“No,” Kepler says, sounding way too soft. Pryce and Cutter would find that fascinating, but to hell with it for now. Neither he nor Jacobi have been soft for months, and Kepler is starting to think he’s running out of chances at this point.
How long until they replace the last of Jacobi with this smiling body? Kepler doesn’t know. No one told him what they were planning to do with Jacobi.
(They didn’t even tell him about the collar program. Kepler just walked into Jacobi a few hours after Cutter took him along and looked into his empty eyes. He pieced it together from there.)
“No,” he says again, “just stay here for a moment. You- don’t look very good, Mister Jacobi. You should take a moment to rest.”
“But I don’t mind working,” Jacobi says again. That’s where Kepler makes his first- well, his worst mistake, maybe. He reaches for one of Jacobi’s hands and intertwines their fingers.
He hasn’t touched Jacobi - or anyone, honestly - like this in forever. He didn’t miss it, not really, because there were so many other things to worry about, but still. He runs his thumb over the back of Jacobi’s hand. He can feel the shaking, then. His fingers feel brittle in Kepler’s hand.
“Sir?”
Kepler looks up to Jacobi. His expression is puzzled, purely and innocently. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He doesn’t understand what this is supposed to be, and the part of him that could is locked too far away for Kepler to be able to read it anymore.
He suddenly realises what he’s doing, and his insides twist. He lets go of Jacobi, who pulls the hand back into his lap like nothing happened. He shouldn’t do things like that. It’s not Jacobi sitting next to him, no matter how much Kepler might hope it would be, and even if it was- Jacobi wouldn’t want Kepler to touch him. The fact that he can’t tell Kepler so doesn’t change that.
“Sorry,” he breathes, keeping his eyes to the floor. There’s something in the back of his mind, a thought he’s pushing away. He feels like if he could just grasp it, everything would slip into place and he’d understand a little better. “Sorry about that.”
He keeps his mouth open and almost apologises for everything else, too. He doesn’t know if the real Jacobi, wherever he’s locked away right now, would be able to hear him. Even if he could be sure, he probably wouldn’t.
“It’s fine, sir,” Jacobi says. It doesn’t sound like it did back then at all, but Kepler still finds himself reminded of that not-stakeout they were on half an eternity ago. He looks up and stares at Jacobi, the smile on his face that’s replacing the confusion, the questions, the anger. It’s a far cry from the furrow of his brows when he said the words back then, a far cry from the look that was on his face when Kepler told him to open that stupid dufflebag full of fireworks.
Oh, Kepler thinks, and it clicks, painfully, like a dislocated joint being forced back into place. That’s just it. That’s what Kepler and Jacobi used to have, and is gone now. He’s not going to get it back. The nights spent sitting in a car next to each other, watching sunrises on a roof, making Jacobi roll his eyes and making him snort with laughter at the stupidest things, passing a flask of whiskey back and forth, quiet nights in impersonal hotel rooms. And the rest, too, the trust neither of them used to question, the sound of anger in Jacobi’s voice seconds after Maxwell died, the hand Kepler put on him anytime he got hurt in the field, always the same message behind it, You’re here, you’re alive and you’re not slipping away and you’re breathing and you’re here.
Jacobi isn’t here anymore. Maxwell was shot clean in the head, but Jacobi is still walking around even though it's not him. This is the moment Kepler finally realises it, that Jacobi is gone.
He inhales, a little unsteadily, and wants to look away. But he can’t tear his eyes away from Jacobi, because there’s something else on his mind that he’s just understanding now, and it feels like swallowing glass, feels like tearing open his rib cage and Jacobi can’t even tell that this moment would matter, if Kepler weren’t stripped of everything that used to make him human a billion years ago, before he and Jacobi even started circling each other, and if Jacobi wasn’t- gone.
He says it as soon as the thought sinks in. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s so surprised by it that any rest of restraint he carried around since Pryce and Cutter arrived just slips away, and the words fall out of his mouth right after.
“I love you,” he says.
Jacobi only looks at him with the same old expression.
It’s not even a lie. Kepler wants to laugh. It’s funny, right? This must be the punchline. Because it’s true. Kepler… loves him. Maybe has for a while. Maybe is going to keep doing it until long after Jacobi is dead all the way, but what- what-
What does it matter, now?
Maybe Jacobi would have said it back a few months ago. Back in that car, on that Tuesday the twenty-fourth, he thinks Jacobi might have- not said it back, not exactly, but returned something.
Maybe Jacobi loved him, too. A while ago, at least. But it doesn’t matter anymore, and that’s that.
Kepler wants to laugh, so no one else can laugh about this, make it his own joke so Cutter and Pryce don’t take this moment and tun it into theirs, too. But he doesn’t manage it.
“I love you,” he says again. He wants it to feel huge, like gravity or like the star burning outside the window, but it’s just words. Kepler is so far over the edge and Jacobi is buried so deeply that none of them have any meaning anymore.
He lets his shoulders slump, a strange contrast to Jacobi sitting there with his back ramrod straight, awaiting more instructions. “You’re sure you’re good to keep working?”
Pointless. The question is pointless, like everything else about this conversation. Jacobi isn’t going to say no. He’s not going to say no to anything ever again. He only has a few words left before the last of him disappears, and most of them are probably going to be yes.
(Kepler remembers the moment in his cell, Minkowski holding on to his arm and Jacobi eyes cold on him. He remembers the feeling of him telling her to kill Kepler - it wasn’t fear, not shock either, it felt much more like understanding. Horrible and terrifying, sure, but not much else, honestly. It’s not all that different from this moment.)
“Yes, sir,” Jacobi says. “I would be happy to.”
Kepler nods. That’s it, then. “Alright, in that case. Sorry I took up so much of your time. You’re… dismissed.” The words leave a bitter taste in Kepler’s mouth, but Jacobi just says, “Thank you,” with that same awful sweet voice (not all that different from what Jacobi sounds- used to sound like when he was being sarcastic) and gets to his feet. Kepler watches him walk away. This must be it, then. That was probably his last conversation with Jacobi.
It doesn’t matter.
Too little, too late, he thinks to himself, and then he gets up and steps out of the hangar bay. He doesn’t walk back in there for days, not unless he absolutely has to.