openmisc | TMA!Jacobi and Jon

TMA!Jacobi and Jon

"Are you sure this is the place?" he asks the driver, who was already speeding off, leaving Jacobi in front of the old building.

"Thanks for your help!" he calls out with false cheer, rolling his eyes before trudging his way up to what he had been told was the Magnus Institute. He doesn't even flinch at the screech of tires that comes from blocks behind him. He doesn't have to see the car erupt into flames as a very confused driver crawls out and phones for help. That's chaos for someone else.

Instead, he takes the steps up, backpack on his shoulder. He had flown all the way out here, so it's not as if he's going to be missing any leads. Besides. He has an appointment.

The closer to the door he gets, the more uncomfortable he feels about this. It's like a whisper of wind against his skin, a suggestion of something dangerous, but Jacobi's never let something like that bother him. He walks through, hands in his pockets.

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It's surprising for Jacobi, too, but he has been fighting the urge to push him away since they met. And for what reason? Because he's drawn to him? Because he understands him? He doesn't know.

"Oh I'm real good at being stubborn," he says, sitting down crossed-legged on the ground.

That actually pulls a genuine laugh from him. Then he gives him one last squeeze before drawing away.

"...no time like the present." And he swallows. "Do not, under any circumstances, come in after me."

"Sure thing."

He gives him a small salute and sits back, watching the coffin with something like trepidation.

Jon keeps looking at him for a long time... and then he nods and undoes the chain. The door opens next and there's something strange about it that there's no looking inside. All there is is darkness and stairs to start.

Jon swallows once before he starts walking down and closes it behind him.

Jacobi is determined to wait. He gets up and paces the room. He digs through the drawers in his desk. He nervously reads some of the statements he finds until his eyes glaze over.

He makes shapes out of paperclips. He keeps occupied and not looking at the coffin for as long as he can stand it. But there's an aching in his chest that he can't actually shake, and he knows something has happened.

And the draw of the thing is too much.

"Sorry, Jon," he mutters, looking to the door before opening the coffin and walking inside.

Jon hadn't brought a torch, simply because it seemed pointless. He's not sure if he's glad of that or upset with himself but now that he's here, in the depths, in the dark, in the crushing weight that makes up and down the same, left and right the same, even as he strives forward he keeps some hope in his heart that he'll make it to her and make it out. He can feel them both: Daisy, dim and shuddering and Daniel, bright like a candle flame behind him, even if there's no warmth at his back. And that keeps him going all the way until he reaches Daisy, until he touches her fingers, and he's in the midst of telling her that he has a way out, that he can pull her, just follow, when he feels that candle be snuffed, dimmed in the darkness and the pressure and the overwhelming Everything that is this place.

But he's not undone, not entirely. There's still... there's still the last embers of that flame. He'll head towards them, hoping for the best and cursing Daniel just a little under his breath.

...at least it makes Daisy laugh.

It's deep, but that's a feeling, not something he can see. It's not that simple. And once he's inside, he turns his head to see...nothing. It isn't like being frozen, he thinks, caught in the chambers that sucked the air from his lungs and kept him safe through endless light-years. It's nothing like that.

It's just him and this rock or stone or dirt or rubble - it doesn't matter.

He's inside and he's not afraid as much as he is angry. Angry at himself for doing this and angry at the emptiness around him. At how he came in and now, just now, has decided that he doesn't want to be empty any longer. And the fuller he feels, the more he seems to press against the walls surrounding him. The place is crushing.

It is at least an eternity before he'll hear a voice he had been hoping to find.

"...what part of 'stay outside, don't come in', did you forget, Daniel?"

But in the depths of the anger and frustration, there's worry and concern. And there's a touch to his ankle that soon enough becomes a grip around it.

"Mostly the stay part," he says with a soft laugh, as much as he can mamage, jerking only a little in surprise at the touch on his ankle.

"The 'don't come in' was a little fuzzy, too."

He isn't sure he's keeping the sobbing relief from his voice.

There's a voice with a Northern accent grumbling from behind Jon but it's muffled from the dirt and the compression. Jon chuckles, though, so clearly at least frustration is keeping them afloat.

"You realize one can't guide themselves back to safety when their anchor is... in here with them, yes?"

Distantly, there is the sound of howling.

"Yes, I know that now!" he argues. "Hello, friend of Jon's."

He can't actually call out, he doesn't have the breath to, but he does try to say it a bit louder.

"But at least we are together."

"...I feel as if I brought this upon myself to some de-"

And he pauses, shifting to try and listen harder.

Howling. Definitely howling in the distance.

"Do you hear that?"

He strains through the sound of roaring in his ears. But it's there. Howling. Or something of it.

"Yeah. What the fuck is that?"

There's another murmur from beneath them.

"Daisy says it's a Hunter." Another pause. "And that she's never... heard anything quite like that."

The howling gets louder. And Jacobi, only Jacobi, will hear his name in the sound. His name in a very familiar, impossible, voice.

"...oh. Oh my. Um. Daniel? Do you... by any chance, um, know a Hunter?"

Daniel is far, far too shocked because that voice shouldn't exist.

"That's - "

He starts to struggle in earnest, scraping parts of himself he didn't know existed in an effort to get away.

"Kepler! Fuck...fuck... Warren!" he pants.

It has to be a trick. It has to be. But he'd would suffer happily if he could just hear that voice again.

Jon barks and there's something to his voice that's compelling as much as any Question he'd ask.

"He's outside, Jacobi. Keep moving. Don't kick me off and we can follow you. Burn a way through."

"Don't you think I'm fucking trying?"

But it's hard to focus. He doesn't feel like himself. He doesn't feel anything except the roaring in his chest and that place of not-empty. Of being so full of anger and rage and everything else that he's stuck here like a goddamn idiot because he followed another goddamn idiot inside. He digs fingers against the dirt underneath him and everything, for a moment, is finally still. He can feel Jon's hand on him and - hear that name in his ear and he doesn't want to be destroyed because that's his heart that's looking for him.

The world they're in goes white hot.

Everything seems to crumble around him like a dam collapsing, but there's space and he can move and one hand grabs Jon to drag them all out.

There's another hand helping them, a claw that grabs onto Jacobi's shirt and yanks him up and out, along with the Archivist, whose hand is smoking, and the bedraggled woman who's clinging onto his back.

And that impossible voice is its usual smug, satisfied self even if the owner of said voice looks more than a little frazzled, bloodspattered, and singed.

"I have heard of a fish in a fish, but this is a catch of a lifetime."

He never, not in a thousand years, thought that he'd ever hear that voice again so clearly.

He lets go of Jon, staring up at Warren Kepler with wide eyes. It lasts for only a second before he finds his voice.

"That's the line you go with?" he scoffs. He turns to find Jon, wincing at his hand. But at least he's alive. Ish. And - Daisy, too, apparently.

Which is when Jacobi is going to hear a snarl and get snatched up by the front of his shirt again, the violence of the movement sending his sunglasses askew to show the bright yellow glow to those eyes.

"What I have to say doesn't need words."

Which is when he's getting kissed, on the mouth, desperate and a little rougher than even Daniel might like as he's pressed into the wall of Jon's office hard enough to shake a bookshelf and send a few things on the desk skittering off.

For their part, Jon's going to check on Daisy, who has her eyes squarely on Kepler like a large dog that just spotted a bear and doesn't even know how to deal with the concept of something that much bigger and more deadly than it is. Jon doesn't say anything for a long moment as he observes it, and then there'll be a quiet discussion between the two while the man in question is... occupied.

In the very, very, very back of Daniel's mind, where there's sense that isn't being kissed out of him, he makes a note to apologize to Jon because there is still a distinct singe to him, and the wall behind him now has some definite burns on it. As does Kepler, though Daniel is sure he's not going to mind or even notice. He puts hands to his face, along his back, through his hair, anywhere he can get to.

They had never kissed until this moment, and it hurts in the best way. He's - happy.

He feels so whole and full again that it takes him a while to regain any sort of consciousness before he gently shoves the heel of his hand into Warren's shoulder. A deliberate burn. A stopping point so he can figure himself out.

There's smoke coming off of his jumpsuit, but Warren doesn't seem to mind. Instead, those golden eyes are glittering with dark promises and something that isn't entirely sated yet.

"That? Is three plans? You've blown up in my face, Daniel. I'm going to start charging service hours."

And he might have stopped kissing him but he's not going to stop himself dipping in to get a breath of his scent at the neck and under the jaw.

Jon, who is putting a blanket around Daisy's shoulders, gives both of them a weak smile before tipping his head towards Daisy.

"I'm going to put on the kettle. Who else would like some?"

Daniel raises up slightly and, in a show of how absolutely absurd his life is, he looks over Warren's shoulder and calls out.

"Make that instant coffee shit for me!"

But then his attention is firmly on Warren and he tries to push him back again so he can at least look at him.

"Send me a bill," he mutters. "What the hell happened?"

"Nope," he says firmly, "I get to ask that first, what with you neck deep in the Buried. Did your brains all fall out of your head on that trip back with the Hephaestus crew?"

From over his shoulder-

"Yes, yes," from Jon.

And a slightly more reedy "aye, I know how to make it" from Daisy.

He narrows his eyes. "You don't get to judge my choices when you weren't even here."

Trust Daniel to get fussy with a very fierce Hunter and have absolutely zero fear doing it.

"Jon went in. I was helping. And it - took too long. I thought I could help. And, to be fair, I did."

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