You said Lovelace got replaced by one of the Listeners, yeah? Imagine if Lovelace was just... wrong. Different hair, voice, personality. Completely. But everyone keeps calling her Lovelace, keeps acting like she's the same person she's always been. Even photos and recordings change, unless they were made on tape. And you were the only one who could see it and know.
[He presses his hand against his mouth for a few seconds.]
It wasn't even any of us that knew. It was Melanie, another-- a new staff member who got tricked into joining us.
Completely arbitrarily, as far as anyone can guess. The, um. The Not-Them feeds on fear, obviously, of. Someone being very obviously wrong. Not who it's supposed to be. But for that to work, someone has to know.
[He's not sure how he'd feel if it had been him, who'd been stuck knowing. He might have snapped a lot earlier.]
Martin and I didn't learn the truth until we saw it turning into a monster to go hunting Jon.
[He also is a little relieved that it wasn't Tim. Thinking of what would have happened if that had been Maxwell, if Jacobi had known it was wrong, that she was wrong, and no one believing him. Having lost her and no one knowing - well, he shoves that away because it's hard enough to think about having lost her anyway.]
[Tim leans into the touch a little, automatically.]
Dunno if it should. If it even counts. None of us remember who she even really was, I wouldn't be able to tell you if she came up and bloody slapped me.
[He sniffs, runs a hand down his face again. Forces his voice to stay even.]
Jon, um. I think he has a few tapes with her voice on it, the real her. Something about it doesn't let the Not-Them affect it.
[He's quiet for a moment and then lightly puts his arm around him. Tim's taller, so it goes around his waist almost automatically, but they're past things like that.]
I did, but. Just one. I just don't know how many Jon has, I. I'm not sure I wanted to know.
[And despite himself, he smiles faintly.]
He let me listen to one of them arguing about how to pronounce 'calliope'. [Long 'i', pronounced 'e'.] I remember the argument, actually, Sasha came up to us after asking how me and Martin pronounced it, I was planning on razzing her for it for like a week.
[But now, knowing what he does, he has to wonder if he did - and whether that got taken from him too. And the smile fades again.]
I only listen to Maxwell when I'm already hurting or when I want to hurt. Even the happy ones hurt. There's one of us I found on the server. Arguing with Kepler about a Christmas party. [He laughs softly and wants to cry. He finds the anger instead and swallows it down.]
Yeah. You probably should have given her a lot of shit for that. [He holds him a bit tighter, just briefly, leaning his head against his shoulder. There's a lot that he and Tim have in common, but when the pieces line up, sometimes it feels...unreal.]
You and Jon and Martin - you all have deals, don't you? All wrapped up with big shit. But is there - one to bring her back?
[Jacobi's is infectious, and Tim huffs out a laugh as well. Brief as it is, it's genuine too. He has to wonder how much the real Sasha would like Jacobi. She'd liked him, he knew that for sure.]
Martin's, actually. Bring back all the Archive assistants who died in the line of duty to the Fears. Jon's and Gertrude's.
Yeah, believe me. We all know it. But when literally everything you remember about someone who meant the world to you is-- [He pauses, just for a second, and tries again.] When it might be all completely fake and you have no, possible way to verify it, it's just...
[And, again, Tim's given him ammo. He's given him yet another way to hurt him. And not just hurt him, but another weakness that can absolutely destroy him. Jacobi sits with that for a long moment, but finds the thought of using Sasha against Tim to be - detestable.
[Tim's arm lifts, a hand resting on Jacobi's shoulder for long enough to give him a tight squeeze. Still brief, but just long enough.]
Thanks.
[And when he unloops himself from Jacobi, so he can squat down and look at Jacobi's handiwork, there's a visible difference in how he holds himself. Looser, less tense - relaxed. Genuinely relieved and relaxed.]
Oh sure, I've definitely thought about giving up my really lucrative career in legal crime where I get to blow things up to follow in the footsteps of Jesus Christ.
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[That gets a damp chuckle out of him.]
You said Lovelace got replaced by one of the Listeners, yeah? Imagine if Lovelace was just... wrong. Different hair, voice, personality. Completely. But everyone keeps calling her Lovelace, keeps acting like she's the same person she's always been. Even photos and recordings change, unless they were made on tape. And you were the only one who could see it and know.
[He presses his hand against his mouth for a few seconds.]
It wasn't even any of us that knew. It was Melanie, another-- a new staff member who got tricked into joining us.
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How did she know?
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[He's not sure how he'd feel if it had been him, who'd been stuck knowing. He might have snapped a lot earlier.]
Martin and I didn't learn the truth until we saw it turning into a monster to go hunting Jon.
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Were you able to - get rid of it?
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[And some days he'd considered it, just to look. Just to know, for sure.]
Martin told me, though. Apparently it didn't die, it was there in the apocalypse. Not that it matters, now Jon's averted that.
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Mmm, it might still matter to you. [He puts his shoulder against Tim's. Just lightly.]
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Dunno if it should. If it even counts. None of us remember who she even really was, I wouldn't be able to tell you if she came up and bloody slapped me.
[He sniffs, runs a hand down his face again. Forces his voice to stay even.]
Jon, um. I think he has a few tapes with her voice on it, the real her. Something about it doesn't let the Not-Them affect it.
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You haven't listened to them.
[It's not a question.]
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I did, but. Just one. I just don't know how many Jon has, I. I'm not sure I wanted to know.
[And despite himself, he smiles faintly.]
He let me listen to one of them arguing about how to pronounce 'calliope'. [Long 'i', pronounced 'e'.] I remember the argument, actually, Sasha came up to us after asking how me and Martin pronounced it, I was planning on razzing her for it for like a week.
[But now, knowing what he does, he has to wonder if he did - and whether that got taken from him too. And the smile fades again.]
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I only listen to Maxwell when I'm already hurting or when I want to hurt. Even the happy ones hurt. There's one of us I found on the server. Arguing with Kepler about a Christmas party. [He laughs softly and wants to cry. He finds the anger instead and swallows it down.]
How does she pronounce it anyway?
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[At least Jacobi had his memories of Maxwell intact. He can't even trust his own.
Who am I even sad for, he'd said once. He's still not sure he has an answer.]
Ka-lee-o-pee.
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Yeah. You probably should have given her a lot of shit for that. [He holds him a bit tighter, just briefly, leaning his head against his shoulder. There's a lot that he and Tim have in common, but when the pieces line up, sometimes it feels...unreal.]
You and Jon and Martin - you all have deals, don't you? All wrapped up with big shit. But is there - one to bring her back?
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Martin's, actually. Bring back all the Archive assistants who died in the line of duty to the Fears. Jon's and Gertrude's.
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[As long as there's a plan of some kind. He had thought as much, but he likes to make sure.] Thanks for telling me. About her.
Everyone talks around her, which isn't actually a great sign.
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Easier.
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Well, now I know not to ask.
[And, again, Tim's given him ammo. He's given him yet another way to hurt him. And not just hurt him, but another weakness that can absolutely destroy him. Jacobi sits with that for a long moment, but finds the thought of using Sasha against Tim to be - detestable.
He glances back.]
Your couch should be fixed.
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Thanks.
[And when he unloops himself from Jacobi, so he can squat down and look at Jacobi's handiwork, there's a visible difference in how he holds himself. Looser, less tense - relaxed. Genuinely relieved and relaxed.]
You ever thought about getting into carpentry?
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[He rolls his eyes.]
Don't be stupid. Have a beer with me.
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As a hobby or something, wanker. You like doing shit with your hands, the complex shit requires meticulous forethought.
[He grabs the couch as he's talking, pulling it forward and lowering it back to the ground, scooping up one of the beers as he flops down.]
But pardon me for trying to enrich your life.
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You are so pardoned for suggesting such a menial task.