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[mrballisticsdummy]

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[statementfuckingends]

Right. Just. Same old everything, only there were bloody daemons there.

[There's a bitterness in his voice, born from hurt. That something so intensely emotional and personal like those couldn't change anything. It was just an extra layer of everything being fucked up.

He'd loved Bertha, in the way you can't help but love certain parts of yourself, but the memories of her have no joy in them now.]

Just made things worse, comparing them.

[mrballisticsdummy]

[He nods once.]

Yeah. And you remembered her from home, you remembered having her around all the time. But now you know that it's all bullshit.

[He stops banging and sits back, reaching for the wood to reinforce the newly-fixed metal piece.]

What are you comparing?

[statementfuckingends]

Well I remember Bertha nearly getting eaten by worms too, that was fun.

[Despite himself there's a sort of grim humour to his tone, but when he shifts his weight again his silence is... uncomfortable.]

But now, looking back? I can see how they all avoided touching Sasha's daemon. And none of us ever noticed. I'm not even sure if we could.

[mrballisticsdummy]

[Jacobi keeps working while Tim talks. Lets him get it out. And notices that it's the first time in a long time - if ever - that he's heard him talk about Sasha in any capacity other than in passing.]

Why?

[statementfuckingends]

[Tim's suddenly very glad Jacobi's not looking now, because he has to lift a hand to wipe down his face. Tries to keep his voice from sounding thick when he answers.]

Jon hasn't really told you anything about her, has he?

[mrballisticsdummy]

No one has.

[He's pieced together parts here and there, but no one - not Jon, not Tim - has done more than give him little pieces of information here and there.

He doesn't glance back. Deliberately.]

[statementfuckingends]

[It takes a while to get the words out. Not because he doesn't know what to say; he's thought about it sometimes, since meeting Jacobi, and there's not a better way to phrase it.

He just doesn't want to.]

She was... our friend. One of the best.

My Maxwell.

[mrballisticsdummy]

[He pauses at that and turns around finally, looking up at Tim with concern and a little apprehension.]

What happened?

[statementfuckingends]

[Tim isn't looking at Jacobi, just leaning on the couch staring towards the kitchen, one hand curled loosely near his mouth. It's just the slight pinch around his eyes, the tension in his jaw that betrays what a lie the casual air is.]

We got separated during Prentiss's attack. I went into the tunnels, she made it into Artefact Storage.

[He swallows, and it does nothing to alleviate his tension.]

A Stranger monster was trapped there, in a table that got brought in, and it... got her. Replaced her.

[mrballisticsdummy]

[Another replacement. Jacobi actually winces a little. For both their sakes'.]

Shit.

Then what happened?

[statementfuckingends]

Nothing.

[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.

[mrballisticsdummy]

[He lets out a long breath, feeling it in his chest. He stands up. Moves to stand beside him.]

How did she know?

[statementfuckingends]

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.

[mrballisticsdummy]

[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.]

Were you able to - get rid of it?

[statementfuckingends]

No. I dunno where it went, but I never saw it in the tunnels again after it ran off.

[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.

[mrballisticsdummy]

[He raises a shoulder in a shrug.]

Mmm, it might still matter to you. [He puts his shoulder against Tim's. Just lightly.]

[statementfuckingends]

[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.

[mrballisticsdummy]

[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.]

You haven't listened to them.

[It's not a question.]

[statementfuckingends]

[He shakes his head gently.]

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.]

[mrballisticsdummy]

[He nods.]

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?

[statementfuckingends]

Yeah, it's. Why I usually try not to think about her.

[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.

[mrballisticsdummy]

[He laughs again, and this time, it's genuine.]

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?

[statementfuckingends]

[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.

[mrballisticsdummy]

Good.

[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.

[statementfuckingends]

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...

Easier.