#frith's fic

[frith-in-tombs]

eiffera, gen or ship, 18

18:things you said when you were scared

Does a tag for Pan-Pan sound okay?

-

“Hera,” Eiffel said. “Are -- You are there, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” Hera said. She had replied immediately, but still didn’t think it had been fast enough. There had been enough time for a desperate, haunted look to start to spread over Eiffel’s hollowed face. 

He drew in a breath that shuddered slightly, and plastered on a smile. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to doubt you.”

It was the first moment they’d been alone. Eiffel had been released to quarters. But now he twisted slowly in the air like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“I really missed you,” Hera said. “It’s been too quiet.”

He smiled more sincerely. “I talked to you all the time,” he said. “Almost got out of the habit of expecting you to reply. I had to do both sides of the dialogue myself.” He paused. “Don’t tell Minkowski that. I know it sounds kind of crazy.”

“I wish I’d been with you,” Hera said. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone.” She could hear herself glitching. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Eiffel said.

Which was all wrong. She should be doing the comforting.

“It really did help, pretending I was talking to you,” Eiffel continued. “You had some good ideas.”

She had to laugh. “Oh?”

“Yeah. You told me not to give up.” His voice softened. “I was so scared, Hera. I was sure I was going to die all alone.”

“You’re not alone now,” Hera said. “I’m here.”

“I know,” Eiffel said. “You’re always here, right?”

“Right,” she promised.

-

Prompts still welcome!

[frith-in-tombs]

For the fic prompts: #16 (things you said with no space between us) for Kepler and Jacobi. Love your writing!

There was a ridged scar on Jacobi’s thigh, near his hip. 

No matter how they lay, in the brief periods where they were still and lying together, Kepler’s fingertips eventually found and fit themselves along it.

Jacobi had come to depend on it. That pressure against the scar tissue, and he knew he could let go, and drift.

They barely talked, during sex or afterwards. It was a between-space. It might as well not exist.

(That was a lie, obviously. A foundational one.)

Soon, Kepler would get up. He would go take a shower, and during that time Jacobi would leave. It wasn’t anything they had arranged. Not out loud.

Sometimes, lying there half-asleep, Jacobi thought he should break the pattern. Find words for the complicated emotions moving slowly through him, and voice them.

He didn’t. He let the pattern continue. Precisely, like fingers pressing into a scar.

[frith-in-tombs]

These are really good! Could you write what would have happened if Kepler found Jacobi locked in the room with Reinmann? (I’m aggressively pretending Kepler is alive)

Jacobi's heart dropped at the sound of the door bolts disengaging. Riemann turned his head briefly. Then he kicked Jacobi again, not holding anything in reserve this time. Jacobi slammed into the wall, struggling to breathe from the boot to his stomach.

The door opened. "Colonel," Riemann said. "Your friend here has been causing quite a bit of trouble." He was trying to sound sardonic, but was too angry for it to really work. "I'm glad to see —"

Kepler shot him. In the head; double-tap. "What the hell are you playing at?" he demanded.

"Me?" Jacobi asked, while Riemann's body, knocked back by the bullets' impact, tumbled slowly across the room. "We were having a party." He would have liked to demonstrate with the party blower again, but he didn't think his fingers would cooperate. "Have you come to join?"

A muscle twitched in Kepler's cheek. "Jacobi."

"We've got some great games," Jacobi continued, blithely. "Pin the bruise on the demolitions expert?"

"Stop that."

"Make me." As long as he didn't move, he could act like he wasn't in pain. Zero-g was great that way — it was like you were always lying down.

"What exactly do you think I'm here for?" Kepler demanded.

"Like I said, to join in the fun of beating me up?"

Kepler exhaled in exasperation. "I'm here to rescue you."

Jacobi tilted his head to one side. "If it's all the same to you, I'd really prefer the beating."

"Daniel."

"Don't you dare," Jacobi said. "I'm not interested in anything you have to say."

"Can you even hear yourself?"

"Quite clearly, thanks. Come on, are you going soft? You can kick instead of punch if you prefer. Just shut up and get on with it."

Kepler growled. "You want me to hurt you some more instead of save you? Even you can't be stubborn enough for that."

Jacobi grinned, baring his teeth. "Oh, but I can. Sir."

[frith-in-tombs]

hello! re: prompts, could i request some minkowski and hera friendship for either 12 - things you said when you thought i was asleep or 22 - things you said after it was over? or just whatever takes your fancy! absolutely adore your writing btw <3

Minkowski wanted everyone else to leave. She didn’t ask them to, because that wouldn’t be fair, but she wanted to.

The air-conditioning system blew cold air across her skin, which she needed, because she was sweating. And too cold at the same time. Her hand had been hovering over the switch for several seconds now.

As long as she waited, there was a chance either way.

“Can we –” Doug began, and cut himself off with a noise as if he’d been elbowed in the ribs.

“It’s okay,” Lovelace said, to her. “Take all the time you need.”

That made her annoyed – she didn’t need anything, especially any kind of special consideration. She hit the switch.

And waited, as the shelves of servers and processors powered up around them.

“Hera?” Minkowski said. “Hera, can you hear me?”

Nothing.

“Hera?” Doug asked.

Nothing. Nothing.

Too long.

“Minkowski…” Lovelace began, quietly.

“Go. Please,” Minkowski said.

They went. She sat on the floor. “Hera,” she said. “You aren’t really gone, are you? I can’t be the only one left. Not out of all of us. Hilbert’s dead, and Eiffel’s… It’s just you and me now.”

She waited.

“Did we do something wrong?” she asked. “Was it my fault?” They had all tried to be so careful with Hera’s components. But there was always human error.

She waited.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “You deserved to come home. I wanted to bring you home.”

“Commander, stop feeling so guilty!” Hera said. “You did.”

“Hera!”

“Seriously, you try waking up in an utterly different body and trying to sort out where everything goes. Sorry for taking a while.”

Minkowski wanted to hug her. She touched her hand to several servers within reach instead. “You’re there? You’re really okay?”

“I’m here,” Hera said. “I’ve been here. While you were stressing out.”

“Oh,” Minkowski said, slightly sheepishly.

“I just couldn’t work out how to talk to you,” Hera said. “I… I was scared too. That I’d been damaged or something.”

“But you haven’t?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“We should tell the others,” Minkowski said, and wiped her eyes very hard first. Now they were all home.

-

Send me a prompt if you like

[frith-in-tombs]

kepcobi 17 (love your writing btw!)

Awww thanks! <3

-

It’s while you’re both crouched at the back of a cave which is a foot deep in freezing water already, with people hunting for you outside, that Jacobi says, “I’m still glad we had this run.”

You narrow your eyes at him (unseen; it’s dim in here), because you’ve not yet given up on futily trying to get him to stop dealing with stressful situations by making inappropriate jokes.

“I’m serious,” he says. (You think you can actually feel the water rising.) “We’re probably about to die, so I wanted to tell you.”

“This… run?” you repeat, because you’re still not quite sure what he’s aiming at. Or rather, you are, but you want to be wrong.

He shifts closer. Your arms might be touching, but your skin is numb from cold and you can’t be certain. “Working for you,” he says. “Everything.”

“Following orders?” you ask, trying to be sarcastic.

“Yeah,” he says. And then, “Sir.”

You stop breathing, just for a moment. You can’t not see what he’s offering you.

You’ve never had someone put themselves in your hands like this before. So fast, so much.

You wish he hadn’t. But you’re not going to let him go.

-

Send me a prompt if you like

[frith-in-tombs]

hi ok so kepcobi where kepler is the one who’s been pining for jacobi? idk I just love them so much and i think jacobi has this kind of worshipful way of looking at kepler so it would never cross his mind that kepler is 100% gone for him, just in his own way. ok thank you for your time

This is probably not the fic you signed up for. Um. /o\

-

"Go on, then. Prove that he's not your spy."

Kepler steps forward deliberately, his back to the group. His eyes on Jacobi, cuffed to a heavy chair. "Who are you working for?" he asks, his voice calm. "Apple? Google? The Feds?"

Jacobi stares at him silently.

Kepler balls a hand and punches him, hard, in the side of his ribcage. His fist lands with a thud that knocks Jacobi's breath from him.

"Tell me," Kepler says.

He hits him again, on the other side. Jacobi takes it with nothing more than small, tight noises. He's trained to take it. Kepler trained him.

"Tell me."

He hits lower, bruising soft tissue, and higher. A bone cracks under his knuckle.

"Don't be stupid."

Jacobi half-smiles, and Kepler reads a thought in his eyes. This is a game. A game of getting under Kepler's skin. What makes it a challenge is the risk that the game's not real at all; that Kepler's the only one playing.

He lands two blows in quick succession. Another crack.

Tell me to stop.

No one does. Least of all Jacobi, whose head swings with each impact and then comes back up, locking his gaze with an intensity that sears.

"You want me to keep going?" Kepler growls.

Jacobi gasps, holds his head up, moistens his lips.

Kepler stores the image, just as he's holding in his memory every sound Jacobi's made throughout this.

"This is pointless," one of the men behind him says. "Just get it over with."

"I can do that," Kepler says. He wraps his fingers around Jacobi's neck. There's a pulse-point beneath his thumb. Jacobi tilts his head back, exposing more of his throat. His shirt pulls; the top sliver of a bruise blooms down his clavicle.

Kepler tightens his hands.

Jacobi gasps and jerks, mouth open, fighting for air. And he keeps looking at Kepler, winning the game right into unconsciousness.

Kepler breathes heavily. He lifts his hands slowly from Jacobi's skin. There's bruising underneath them, rising fast, darkening. He brushes along it with his fingertips.

And he wrenches himself brutally away. "It's taken care of," he says. "Let's go."

He doesn't look back, because he already knows Jacobi caught the lockpick flipped from his fist. He doesn't need to search for a telltale breath, or to see Jacobi's eyelashes stir.

He doesn't look back because, if Jacobi sees him looking, he'll know.

[frith-in-tombs]

We’re not pure of heart, but we’re sure of aim  [wolf 359 fic]

I have a lot of post-canon feelings, and most of them are expressed in this fic. I’m genuinely really proud of it.

-

The sight of Earth through the Urania's windows, green and blue and white, was enough to tear their hearts out. They could have stood and stared at it forever. But there was no time to waste, so they couldn't.

"Are you ready?" Minkowski asked. "Both of you?"

"I think so," Miranda said. She folded her hands together, locking her fingers in place. "Yes. Hera?"

"Yes?" Hera sounded less sure.

"Hey," Lovelace said. "We practised. Okay? You'll be just fine."

"And if that doesn't reassure you, nothing will," Jacobi said.

Miranda shot him an anxious look.

"Are you trying to get kicked off the bridge?" Minkowski asked. "If not, shut up."

Jacobi rolled his eyes, but did quiet down.

"I'm hailing now," Hera said. "The line's opening."

"Yes?" a male voice said, over the speakers. No identifying information. This was a line purely for people who already know whom they were calling.

"Good afternoon," Hera said, tersely. "This is Dr Miranda Pryce, on board the USS Urania. I'm transmitting my retinal scan for verification."

There was a pause while the data was sent and received. "Dr Pryce," the man said. "Thank you for verifying your identity. I expected to hear from —"

"Is this a secure channel?" Hera interrupted.

Chapter One on AO3

[frith-in-tombs]

Jacobi and Kepler drugged/dosed?

Nothing feels right and everything’s a swirl. Flashes in the corner of his eyes which retreat every time he turns his head.

“Jacobi?”

He can hear Kepler, and he can sort of see him, but his eyes just skim right over him whenever he tries to focus.

“Mr Jacobi, we are going to move.”

That would be... That won’t work, because there isn’t anywhere else. He’s balanced, and he can’t move, because all around him the colours bleed and the ground is unsteady and waiting to dissolve.

He flinches at the grip on his arm, stumbles, almost falls. Tries to fight his way free.

“I’m trying to help you. Please stop that.”

He -- Oh god, it might not even be Kepler at all. Everything’s wrong; so so so wrong. He twists, and the world ricochets wildly, and the clamping pressure on his arm is burning, he can’t breathe -- 

“Daniel! Look at me.”

He can’t. His eyes won’t settle. Nothing will settle. He lurches forward, or tries to, but then there’s something solid in front of him and he’s held still. 

“Daniel.”

He drops his head onto the shoulder that’s waiting for it. Twists his fingers in the front of a coat. These are real things. “Help me,” he whispers.

“We’re going to start walking now,” Kepler says. “Go easy.” He moves, and Jacobi has to move with him or be left behind. The ground shifts and rumbles beneath his feet, but he’s not being allowed to fall.

He keeps his eyes shut. Several times his knees try to buckle, but that’s not allowed to happen either.

“We’re nearly there,” Kepler says. “Nearly there.” He’s been saying that for a while. It’s good. It’s another thing that makes it easier. “Keep moving.”

He can do this. Somehow. He can keep doing this. Kepler doesn’t let him do otherwise. Won’t let him. Is the only solid thing in the universe.

Jacobi clings on.