TMA!Jacobi and Jon

[mrballisticsdummy]

"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.

Comments

[mrballisticsdummy]

He looks to the coffin and then back to Jon.

"What about me? Hear me out."

He swivels around to face him, his legs to one side of the desk. "I know I just came to bother you yesterday but you're - kind of the reason I'm still around. You clearly give a shit."

[epistemological]

A long pause.

"...I do. I do very much care. Perhaps more than I ought to, if only because you're-" he swallows, "I understand your desire. Even if it's not something I believe will help."

He glances at him.

"Do you think that would serve?"

[mrballisticsdummy]

"It goes against everything that I am, but - I mean. It's worth it, right? If you get your friend back. I can't get mine but - you deserve yours."

[epistemological]

There's a long pause before... he nods. And looks at the coffin. The key is in the lock on it, and the idea of waiting any longer than he has to is utterly anathema to how he thinks. That's why he gets up and walks over, turning back to Jacobi.

"Can you stay here? In the room? Being closer... I do think it will help."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Yeah," he assures him. "Of course."

Jacobi joins him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders in an embrace. He takes care not to burn, as this is the first close contact he's had in longer than he cares to remember.

[epistemological]

Oh. Oh that's surprising. Not in a bad way. Just... surprising. He'll let himself melt a little into it, even if it isn't too hot. He'll give Daniel a firm squeeze.

"...don't let anyone budge you from here if they ask what you're doing here."

Because he's the first person Jon's felt connected to since he woke up.

[mrballisticsdummy]

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.

[epistemological]

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."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"Sure thing."

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

[epistemological]

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.

[mrballisticsdummy]

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.

[epistemological]

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.

[mrballisticsdummy]

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.

[epistemological]

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.

[mrballisticsdummy]

"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.

[epistemological]

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.

[mrballisticsdummy]

"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."

[epistemological]

"...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?"

[mrballisticsdummy]

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?"

[epistemological]

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?"

[mrballisticsdummy]

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.

[epistemological]

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."

[mrballisticsdummy]

"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.

[questionsonly]

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."

[mrballisticsdummy]

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.