These changes ain't changing me

[darkpants_warmfeeling]

WHO: Jacob Taylor and OPEN
WHERE: Around! Prompts for locations in Maurtia Falls and outside De Chima
WHEN: Set after the Road Not Taken plot, into early July
WHAT: Last month, Jacob was AU'd into a violent version of himself who tried to kill his friends. Fallout and recuperation ensue afterward.
WARNINGS: Talk of violence


A) Pevensie Farm

So, sometimes a person has a bad day. And other times, they have a day where they are magically transformed into a brainwashed terrorist who shoots a friend in the face, pulls a gun on their commanding officer, takes their roommate hostage, pistol-whips their kind-of ex to the floor, and then tries to kill another friend for good measure.

And sometimes, that person remembers every second of what their alternate self did.

After a day like that, staying around in the house one committed most of the aforementioned crimes at is not really an option. Which is what brings Jacob Taylor out to the farm Hawke stays at: a need for refuge and contemplation, a remote location where he can process what just happened. The good news for farm inhabitants is that Jacob is a great guest, attempted murder notwithstanding: clean, considerate, and happy to help out with farm chores despite the many bruises and abrasions on his body from fighting Kasumi and Garrus while under the influence.

If anything, Jacob seeks out chores that will let him use his body and ease his mind. The strenuous, outdoors activity is a good distraction from the memories he has, of bullets and hateful words aimed at his friends.


B) Helix training room

Jacob is off-duty as a RISE agent at the moment, but he still needs to exercise. After a week or so at the farm, he starts making the long trip to Maurtia Falls to put in lengthy, secluded workouts at the Helix base, usually after dark when fewer of his RISE colleagues are around. The crunches, laps, and push-ups he burns through help him to work out the anger and guilt which keeps rising up like bile within him in his quieter moments. In between the less violent exercises, he pummels the room's training bags with punches and kicks as though he could beat "Agent Taylor" out of his mind. He keeps at it until sweat drips from his limbs and stains his tank top.

It doesn't work.


C) Maurtia Falls bar

He has never been someone who drinks to forget or to run away, and he doesn't want to start now. Aside from how unproductive it would be, right now Jacob feels he doesn't deserve the kind of easy, blissful escape that alcohol can offer. Deep down, he knows that he failed, that what happened is still his responsibility, indoctrination and magic notwithstanding. He feels that it was him who put a hole through Joker's face: a different version of him, but a frighteningly plausible one, still containing recognizable facets of Jacob Taylor.

So Jacob drinks to think, and to relax, and to dull the claws of shame and pain that he feels scrabbling at his innards whenever he thinks about the look on Junpei's face when the gun came out. And if he has more than usual, and stays longer than normal, well, that just gives him more time to process.



D) Coming back to MF 001 (July 1st - onward)

Well. This is going to be awkward.

As he settles back into his government-assigned housing, Jacob is grateful to see that the signs of his- Agent Taylor's- rampage have mostly been covered up and repaired. Bullet holes have been removed from the walls, the slashes from Garrus' claws are gone from the tile, and there's no trace of Kasumi's blood on the floor. But it feels like traces of the violence linger in the air like a trail of smoke. Even the pet snake looks at him differently, suspiciously perhaps...

Jacob tells himself he's imagining things out of shame. It's a snake. It can't be judging him. He's doing enough of that himself.


5) Open prompt

[Anything you want!]

Comments

B

[hypodermicgurl]

Didn't matter how many miles or states away, Sally could feel the pull. Anger, pain, loathing. Like a hook sinking into her flesh and yanking. And there was just something about imPorts that made the tug all the sweeter to follow. To give in to that call Sally doesn't open a door, she doesn't take a cab. One minute Sally's in her hotel room, the next she's sitting on a lifting bench in some gym, watching a man attempt suicide through punching bag.

She doesn't say anything at first, instead announcing her presence by pulling out a cigarette from the pack in her leopard print coat and snapping open her lighter to light it.

[darkpants_warmfeeling]

Jacob is so absorbed by his punchicide that he doesn't notice Sally's presence for a good thirty seconds after she arrives. He just keeps working away at a bag that most definitely does not represent the face of his vicious alternate self, grunting as his fists fly.

It's only when he stops to catch his breath that he notices the smell of smoke in the room from Sally's cigarette. His first thought is fire. His second thought, when he turns his head and sees her on the bench, is what the hell.

"Where the hell did you come from?" He startles visibly, muscles tensing for fight or flight out of sheer reflex. The RISE sections of Helix don't get many unannounced visitors, on account of being a fortress and all, and Jacob's not really in a state to give polite hospitality at the moment.

[hypodermicgurl]

"You tell me, honey."

The lighter has been tucked back away into an inner pocked tens of seconds ago, leaving Sally to lounge and inhale, exhale, and appreciate the sweat soaked form.

"Seems you've got sins to confess."

[darkpants_warmfeeling]

Jacob snorts, then rotates his body to face Sally full-on, giving her a suspicious look. She doesn't seem like a threat, but she sure as hell isn't any RISE agent he knows, either.

"You don't know me. And no offence, but if you're a priest, then I'm the President."

He gestures to her, ignoring for the moment the way she's 'appreciating' him... And ignoring the fact that the RISE gym is a no-smoking room. "Who are you?"

[hypodermicgurl]

It isn't an amused laugh, just a sharp sound, be hell. The man was right.

"God's no use to us down in the gutter. My name's Sally. I listen, not forgive. Or judge. That's why you called me over."

She scoots over and nods at the gym bench. Come sit with her. Or don't. At least she offered.

[darkpants_warmfeeling]

Jacob folds his arms, looking skeptical.

"I don't remember calling you at all, Sally."

But she seems harmless enough, and he does need to sit down after all that punching. So after a moment, he does come over and take a seat by her, keeping a distance just in case her visit is an exceptionally odd attempt to attack RISE.

[hypodermicgurl]

"Oh, that's not how it works."

She might be a ghost of fear and pain, but she was raised semi-right. Sally offers over a cigarette as she continues.

"Tell me what happened. No secret runs away from me, I promise."

[darkpants_warmfeeling]

Jacob declines the cigarette with a raised hand. His body is a sweaty temple, okay.

"I just met you. Sorry if I don't spill my guts right off the bat."

He pauses while something roils inside of him, aching for release. She's here for a reason, and it's not as though the chaos of the last month is a secret or anything...

"I did some things I regret. Except maybe it wasn't me that did them. More like a... part of me. Does that make sense?"

He'll be surprised if it does. It doesn't make much sense to him right now, and it's his life.

[hypodermicgurl]

"Once upon a time, a little part of me killed the two people I loved most. Some things, some parts of us, we use whatever we can to push down for a reason."

There's no judgement, not even a real hint of some ulterior motive. Not like she gives enough of a shit about the people in this world to black mail them. That was saved for those near and dear to her black, dead heart.

"Tell me. I like details."

a

[whathawksdo]

If Jacob is looking for strenuous activity, Hawke's more than happy to provide it and not like that. Minds out of the gutter, folks. She doesn't mind having chores to do, not really, but when someone shows up looking to stay occupied, she's also more than happy to hand them all over onto Mr. Keeping Busy here. With the fight for getting the place upgraded with electricity either still in the works or only just recently agreed to, firewood for cooking is still definitely called for.

Firewood Hawke is going to avoid having to chop as long as she can.

Of course, she's also going to enjoy the view from the back porch. Not lounging, but leaning against the porch's wooden railing and watching from there. It isn't something she'll linger at forever, if only to avoid it being weird. Sooner or later, she calls over to him,

"You've been at that for awhile now! Are you sure you don't want some water or something?"

[darkpants_warmfeeling]

As long as Jacob is on this farm, no one need fear any shortage of firewood. As an added bonus, Hawke and any other interested parties can help themselves to the sight of an exceptionally fit, brooding, sweaty man splitting wood outdoors for long periods of time, too absorbed in his thoughts to notice if he's being observed.

(Honestly, the way Jacob is right now, Hawke would be doing him a favour if she did want to provide activity like that. There's a fair amount of tension in there that could do with some releasing.)

She catches him in mid-swing when she calls out to him. Jacob freezes with the axe over his head, sets it down slowly, and straightens up, blinking. "Sorry, didn't catch that!" He calls back. He was too focused on thinking about chopping and not thinking about anything else to have heard Hawke.

[whathawksdo]

It's certainly the best added bonus there could ever be. Even so, with that in mind, the entire fiasco with Kasumi leaves Hawke cautious on a few very particular topics. Whether it'd be awkward, whether it'd be poor manners since he's a guest... but that's not something she'll dwell on right this second.

She waves him off, as if to say 'wait there', then disappears back into the house. From the back door, the kitchen isn't far, and the one thing they do manage to keep is an icebox. With ice, thanks to the friendly neighborhood mage. When she comes back out, it's with a glass of ice water, which gives her as good an excuse as any other to walk out across the yard to hold it out to him.

"I said, you're going to drop dead of the heat if you keep up like that. Here."

Okay, that isn't what she said, but the sentiment is close enough.

[darkpants_warmfeeling]

He stares at it for a second, as though remembering oh right, people need water to live, don't they. He abruptly becomes aware that he is actually deeply, intensely thirsty, and reaches out a grateful hand. "Thanks."

Jacob takes a long drink, chugging without regard for the pain the cold leaves in his throat. Then he pours a little over his head and neck for good measure, rinsing off the sweat. It feels good, and he sighs accordingly.

"Didn't realize how much I needed that, I guess."

[whathawksdo]

All in all, that's very distracting to watch. Only rather than staring, Hawke stifles a laugh with a hand. It comes out as an amused snort instead and she has to turn to walk a step or two away before turning back.

"Sorry," because that's not a normal response to someone drinking a glass of water. "That was like something out of a... what? A drink commercial?"

She doesn't watch all that much television, but she's at least seen those.

[darkpants_warmfeeling]

Jacob snorts right back, then takes another drink before responding. He doesn't pour it on himself this time, though. Hawke doesn't need the extra ammunition.

"Maybe the commercials were made by people who chop a lot of wood," he speculates, shrugging. "Or maybe I've been watching too much TV." As though Jacob is some kind of a couch potato. Even when he broods, it involves an axe and lots of muscle power.

He takes one more drink, then sets the water down on a nearby stump and picks the axe back up, as though he's already set to resume chopping. "It's a really nice place here, isn't it?" He observes, looking around at the idyllic setting. "Peaceful. Quiet."

[whathawksdo]

"At least it isn't as bad as the shower ones, where they're all slowly shaking their hair back and forth instead of doing the smart thing and getting a towel."

At least Hawke finds what TV commercials she does catch really damn amusing. It's also a less broody topic to dwell on, which she imagines he probably needs right now. Though, when he brings up the farm, she pauses to look around them, silently wondering where the dogs are if he thinks it's peaceful.

But... well, he's not wrong.

She gives her head a small shake and idly hooks her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans, for lack of anything better to do with them.

"It really is. Maybe a little too quiet. Did I ever tell you I grew up in the countryside? Of Ferelden, of course. Not exactly like this. Close, though."

[darkpants_warmfeeling]

It helps that Jacob really likes dogs, regardless of how much barking they might currently be doing. Hawke's topic change is appreciated, though. Anything that doesn't involve brooding or dehydrating himself through chores is a plus, at this point.

"I don't think you did." Jacob shakes his head. "Honestly, I always pictured you as a city person. Kirkwall, right?"

c /walks in 20 minutes late with starbucks

[boneitis]

He should talk to Jacob.

Joker knows he should actually talk to the guy; he forgave Garrus for basically the same thing, right? He should be able to do the same with Jacob. It's not like that was actually Jacob, anyway-- not their Jacob, the one who's way too nice for all the ways he knows how to kill people.

That whole conversation is a lot less funny, now. Joker really hates it when the things he says come back to bite him.

So he's in Maurtia Falls to... look for him, or something. He stops in a bar, though, to get a little liquid courage before he actually psyches himself up for it. And he thoroughly hates that something as mundane as talking to Jacob goddamn Taylor is something that he needs to psyche himself up for.

In a fit of either good or absolutely terrible luck, he picks the one bar in all of Maurtia Falls that actually has Jacob Taylor in it. Something cold jolts in his stomach when he sees him, like someone dumped a whole bucket of ice water right down his gullet, and he squashes it down. This is a different guy; #notalljacobs or something.

He makes himself walk over to the bar and sit next to him, flagging down the bartender for a double. (He needs it.)

[darkpants_warmfeeling]

Joker. Jacob tries to stay relaxed when he sits down and absolutely fails. While his posture doesn't change- forearms resting on the bar, leaning forward, eyes on his glass- there's tension clear to read all over his shoulders and back. He hasn't seen the pilot's face since he erased it with a point-blank bullet.

"Hey," he starts, and then pauses awkwardly for an interminable moment, fumbling for what comes next. He settles on alcohol. "Whatever you're having tonight, it's on me. Like we talked about."

Jacob takes his commitments seriously even when there isn't this much guilt behind them, and he fully intends to shoulder Joker's tab(s) for as long as needed.

(He'll get to fixing the hat eventually)

[boneitis]

Joker looks down at the double whiskey that he'd ordered and took a contemplative sip.

"I should've ordered better whiskey."

He's just messing with him; trying to at least act like he doesn't feel awkward and tense, even if it's not true. Joker knocks back the rest of the double like getting a little liquor in his stomach will smother the icy knot in it. It... doesn't really help, to be honest.

"Want to make a bet? On the next person to put a bullet in me, I mean. If I'm gonna get shot, I might as well make money on it, right?"

[darkpants_warmfeeling]

Jacob winces. Maybe somewhere out there is a universe where Joker has tact, but this sure as hell isn't it. But if nothing else, the straight-talker in Jacob appreciates the pilot's refusal to dance around anything. Better to face things head-on, even if it's with a lot of bullshit as a shield.

"Sure. Why not?" He says without enthusiasm. "Maybe it'll be Kaidan. It's always the last one you expect, right?"

Case in point, sitting here drinking beside Joker.

[boneitis]

"At least he'd be polite about it, I guess."

Because it's pretty rude to make somebody walk all the way out into the middle of a park, when they already have mobility issues, just to shoot them in the face. Shooting him is bad enough, but making him work for it too is just plain wrong.

Kaidan would probably apologize first, or try not to make a mess about it. Something polite and Canadian.

"Maybe it'll be Shepard. I kind of owe him one, y'know?"

He killed Shepard, so maybe it's only fair that Shepard gets one back on him.

[darkpants_warmfeeling]

"Polite, sure. But probably passive-aggressive at the same time." Jacob's been on the receiving end of Kaidan's elliptical suggestions that aren't suggestions enough times to picture how much worse it could be if he ever went full-on evil.

He takes a drink, still not looking at Joker, still trying to be cool. "We all owe Shepard one- more than one. You know I tried to shoot him, too? And he just acts like it's all good. He was worried about me." Jacob isn't surprised that the Commander checked up on all his Normandy brood after the chaos cleared, even the guy who was the source of the chaos thanks to... whatever the hell flipped Jacob's 'evil' switch.

[boneitis]

"How's that any different from normal?"

Alenko's always passive-aggressive, it's like his thing or something. He's turned passive aggressive judginess into almost an art form, he's the fucking Caravaggio of passive aggressive.

"Not really surprised," he says, fiddling with his glass. "He's kind of like that? Besides, nobody held it against Vakarian when he went apeshit on our asses, so we'd be hypocrites to hold it against you."

And if he says it enough times, maybe it'll stick-- it wasn't Jacob. It's not Jacob's fault. You shouldn't hold it against him. Build yourself a bridge, Moreau, and get the fuck over it.

[darkpants_warmfeeling]

"Sure." Jacob's hand tightens around his glass as he figures out what to say. "But it's not the same. Not really. Garrus got gassed- he lost control. That... person..." Terrorist, assassin, dedicated Cerberus agent, shooter of faces, Jacob Taylor. "That was me. It could have been me. Just one choice- that's the only difference."

He shakes his head and takes a deep drink. There aren't enough bridges on Earth to change the fact that Jacob feels the same as Joker deep down- it was him, or at least an aspect of him. Close enough to feel a chill at what might have been.