dear_mun | ( Pacific Rim ) voice testing...

[ There's no words. Just a face. Just disbelief. Just a name. ]

Yancy?

[ Slow turn. Quiet regard. And a familiar grin hinting at the corner of his mouth. ]

Hey, kid.

[ There's a distinct urge to reach out and maybe catch Raleigh in an affectionate headlock, but the look on his baby brother's face cues Yancy to take things slow. ]

Hey, man.

[ His voice is steady one syllable, but cracks into a wet sound in the next one. Five years and a handful of months, and Yancy's voice is still the steadiest, clearest one Raleigh hears when silence settles in. ]

Didn't think I'd see you around here.

[ A chuckle escapes him, though it sounds more like a wheeze. ]

I'll be honest, Rals. Didn't expect that I'd find myself around here either.

[ They'd spent so much time in each other's heads once upon a time, their banter had been so seamless, it was like an unbroken conversation. Now, Yancy finds himself grasping for words to bridge an otherwise frightening sense of separateness. ]

So, you gonna stop looking like you've seen a ghost and come over here [ He takes a breath, nervous. How is this so hard, he thinks. It never used to be hard ] or do I have to go there to give you a noogie the way I used to when you were a skinny little runt.

[ It makes no sense, but he's afraid that if he walks over, his brother will be a stranger to him, and while Yancy Becket is no coward, he'd rather face Knifehead again than feel like this. ]

[ He remembers. Raleigh remembers all of it like it was all still happening, because you don't spend five years going half-mad with the death of your brother nestled firmly between the spaces of your ribcage and not remember — the way he laughs, the way he gets mad, the way they just know who takes the top bunk every time they ship out somewhere new. They weren't two halves of a whole the same way Raleigh is like with Mako, because Mako is different in all the ways that matter and in all the ways that are important— no, him and Yancy, they were the two different people cut from the same cloth, and stitched together by the people they both knew and loved and lived with.

They weren't contrasts, or complements, or odd pieces that by the mathematics of human nature fit perfectly together; they were the same equation expressed differently, the variables changed but the answer constant.

Raleigh and Yancy will always be one of two, where Raleigh and Mako were two of one.

And the one person in the world who could ever understand that is now no longer dead, and standing right in front of him. ]

You are such an asshole. [ But it doesn't feel heavy when he says it, not when he's moving forward and catching broad shoulders like he's fifteen and the sky is falling down around their ears. ]

[ The sound that escapes him is part whoosh of air and part bitten-off laugh and Yancy just holds on -- just, holds on in a way that he wasn't able to at the end of it all, when he knew deep in his gut the moment battle with Knifehead went all wrong, his eyes widening as he looked over to his brother, panicked, to say

Raleigh, listen to me--

and the world was torn away from him. ]

Yeah, well [ he croaks out, fingers curling into a fist as he tightens the embrace one last time before he lets Raleigh go ] You always needed a role model.

[ Don't stop fighting.

Run, if it's your only option.

Get out and LIVE.

That's what he never got to say. ]

You look good, kid.

[ Who says grown men don't cry. ]

[ Breathing feels like twofold now.

When he'd first learned of drifting, it had sounded like something straight out of science fiction, and in its own way it was - it was a somewhat-literal joining of minds, bits of telepathy and fringe science populating the theories of it until empirical science decided to take a look and vault it into reality. Raleigh never thought to have anyone else to drift with, not after Raleigh and Yancy proved themselves compatible. It was always Yancy, and when he'd lost Yancy—

Raleigh quit. It seemed cowardly to some, it seemed cowardly to Raleigh too, but the idea of drifting with anyone else had only made Raleigh shut down with decisive steadfastness. He won't drift with anyone else again; he won't pilot again. He was alright with that.

(Mako changed that. Mako changed everything, and yet still made everything closer to how things were before, too.)

Raleigh wants to laugh, doesn't trust his lungs to make the right kind of sounds, and he buries his face against Yancy's shoulder instead. ]

I missed your stupid face.

This one was only resigned.

[Panic? In his mun? He wouldn't even bother being here if they were.]

It's good to have you in one piece.

[Over a decade filled with giant robots, fighting off kaiju attacks, dealing with politicians, and being in charge PPDC personnel over the years gives you the right to accept and take control of any situation, even ones involving unexpectedly resurrected rangers.]

Marshal. [ Yancy offers up a nod. ] Good to see you, too, sir.

[ Between him and Raleigh, he was the one more mindful of authority -- not, that he wouldn't do a little cowboying when necessary. He always liked Pentecost, though. The man was strict, but fair. ]

I heard news that we finally won.

[A nod back.

The Becket brothers were always among his favorites- not that he'd ever tell either of them that. Favoritism doesn't help- especially when they need to be chewed out over some of the stupidest things.]

We did. Your brother was a part of that final effort.

[A part of her...is unsure of where this is all going to go, what with him being Gipsy's former pilot and all, but still.]

You have missed quite a bit, Beckett-San. It is good to have the chance to meet you though.

[ This is... unexpected, to say the least, but Stacker would be lying if he said he wasn't happy to see him. The corner of his mouth even quirks up into a bit of a smile. ]

It's nice to see you in one piece.

[ Yancy smiles back. Nods. ]

Pretty darn happy about it.

Good to see you, Marshal.

[ He nods slightly in return and then, because the idea's far too amusing, ] Your brother'll have a heart attack when he sees you.

[ A pause. ] He might.

I hear we won. [ It sounds strange even to him. Alien, almost. But then again, he wasn't there to see it happen. He's just been told that that's the way things stand. ]

[ There's a slightly grim feel to the way Stacker's lips twitch this time, though he certainly doesn't regret doing what he did, not if it meant saving Mako and, thus, saving the world.

He nods briefly, one slight head movement. ] We did. [ It's a little hard to say "we" but he manages. ] A few years too late, but we did.

[Have a face full of confusion old friend, she can only stare for a rather long moment words not even properly forming.]

[He's pretty speechless at this point really. I mean, the last time he saw you, the last time he was in your head was....a long time ago. A really long time ago. What does he even say at this point? "Yancy. Nice to see you?" "I'm really happy that you're not kaiju food?" The list goes on and on.

Yancy, do him a favor and just say something to him.]

Hey, kid.

[ It's so strange to see his brother so quiet. Between the two of them, Raleigh was the one who always seemed to be bursting with things to say. Even when they were piloting Gipsy, neural handshake in place, Yancy found it so amusing that Rals never stopped talking out loud.

So yeah, the silence unnerves him a little. ]

Brother, quit playing at being mute you'll hurt yourself.

[ She has a lifetime of memories of him. Growing up, holidays, graduations. Jaeger training, drift compatibility, waking up at 2 am to an alert calling for Gispy Danger over the comms. The neural handshake is as close to knowing Yancy Becket as circumstance would have allowed but here, in this place—

Her hands held at her sides, she bows. (A sign of respect.) The gesture stops at her shoulders rather than at her waist. ]

You've been expected, Ranger Becket. [ She wants to call him Yancy. (—hey, Yance—) But those are just Raleigh words trying to itch their way out of her mouth. ]

[ The phrasing of the words in spite of the formality of their delivery catches him off-guard.

Pretty girl.

(An observation rather than an outright assessment.)

Ten bucks says, she's from the PPDC.

(A conclusion based solely on the ease by which she states his ~~previous~~ designation.)

He turns. Returns the bow, the greeting instinctive as muscle memory kicks in. For a moment, Yancy feels like he's back in the Kwoon, training and learning in a way he never thought he'd actually enjoy. ]

Well, I'm at a disadvantage here because I don't believe we've met, uh, Miss...?

[ They teach you: once a ranger, always a ranger. In life and in death. Just because Yancy Becket fell in the line of duty doesn't make him any less of one, though the memories of a lifetime spent with Raleigh colors her perception of him differently.

Mako's never had a sibling (never had a brother) but she can recall loving one nevertheless. (She can recall losing one too, but that's a subject for another place and another time.) ]

Mori. Mako Mori. [ Somewhat democratically: ] Your reputation proceeds you.

[ There's something that nags at him about the way she's looking at him. Like she knows something he doesn't, and he's not entirely sure how he feels about that. ]

Nothing terrible, I hope. [ Yancy knows better than to play at false modesty. Four kills in three years isn't anything to scoff at. He was a damn good Ranger. Not one of the top elite, but no small fry either. ] Pleasure to meet you, Miss Mori.

[ He offers a hand out. Formalities aside, if she's PPDC, then she's as good as family. ]

Edited 2013-08-07 05:36 (UTC)

[ Something's bothering Yancy. (She doesn't dwell on how she knows that; she just does, thank you, Raleigh, thank you, Yancy.)

It makes Mako wonder if she's being rude — a habit that will never die, not even with Raleigh, and he lived inside her own head. There is no prewritten protocol on how to deal with your copiliot's former copilot (and brother), now deceased). There is no easy way to say to a stranger I feel like I've known you my entire life. Or if there is, Mako hasn't mastered that particular art yet. (But Raleigh had managed something similar, hadn't he? After the kwoon, in the corridor. —I'm not crazy, you felt it, right?—)

The hand offered between them is a comfort. Handshakes are familiar. Mako's lingers but is strong. ]

The pleasure is mine, Mister Becket. [ She used to call Raleigh that. Not anymore. A pause, a consideration, then: ] Raleigh has told me all there is to know about you. I hope that does not make things too uncomfortable. [ Her hand, finally, slips out of his and then falls back to her side once more. ] He and I are copilots.

[ Suddenly, it makes sense. The strange sense of familiarity, something maybe in the way she moves - because isn't that what the Drift sometimes did? Take the best of either of you, halve it down the middle and share and share alike. It made him and Raleigh stronger, better, because it set them in near-perfect sync, put them on the shoulders of a giant and ashuered them out towards the incoming storm.

( You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?
—I'm in your brain. )

Realization dawns, and not like the slow build behind an ocean laid out like a blanket of silver-blue, the sounds of repair intermingling with voices and laughter.

It's like the sun rising over the tundra - bright and blinding at first a part of you instinctively looks away.

Just like something in Yancy shies away. Some small part of him going hold up, back up a minute

—I

But... I'm Raleigh's copilot.

Except that's not entirely true. Because life goes on and the world keeps on spinning. And Yancy would never have wanted his brother to face the monsters alone.

So he steps forward. He lets the downward current of emotion take him like the rapids they used to ride in downtime. And he steers another way, because you don't fight the water when it washes you down. You ride it out and turn it into something good.

He isn't sure if she'll break his nose for stepping into her space, but he's always been better at expressing himself through actions than in pretty words. He hopes he hears the echo of the Drift right when his arms circle round this tiny girl, his soul half-shaken but otherwise alright. ]

Thank you [ his voice is a whispered prayer in her ear ] for looking out for him.

Edited 2013-08-08 06:53 (UTC)

[ Realization dawns and she sees it, an expression that she's seen a dozen dozen times before in her own head. Only this time it's real, it's an actual face set before her eyes, moving and expressing the things it wants to express because its owner — Yancy goddamn Becket — is somehow alive. She doesn't try to dwell on that fact too much, if only because she knows it'll overwhelm her if she lets it. Instead, she treats it like the drift — letting it was over her and through her and into her. A single statement pinging off a dozen parts of her brain at the same time as he embraces her:

Yancy is alive.

The last thing she considers is breaking his nose because a part of her — bits of her that are Raleigh and bits of her that are herself — has wanted this all along. These arms enveloping her, this breath on her cheek. (—Yance, please—) This impossible reunion, which feels like coming full circle.

In all of her memories of the Becket boys there are more nudges and shoves and playful punches than they are heartfelt embraces and Mako wonders then who this hug is really for: her or for Raleigh or maybe for himself, the part of him that's in her now too, filling her with fear and loss and a sudden silence, but also a joy and a closeness that only siblings (only copilots) can ever truly capture.

A moment, then Mako's arms come up. She's only ever held Raleigh before. It seems fitting that she should hold Yancy too. Her arms are surprisingly strong for her size. ]

You were there. For the both of us.

[ in combat, you make decisions and then you try to live with the consequences afterwards. he's trying, he's been trying for five goddamn years and it still hurts like an open wound sometimes. more often, though, it's phantom pain.

seeing his brother now — when he's barely begun looking at the future instead of the past —

( there is so much he wants to tell yancy. there's so much he wants to say. )

— there's relief and happiness and, irrationally, anger. ]

Hey. [ not sounding choked up, not sounding choked up at all. so what if his voice is a little rough right now? ] Yance.

[ Before before piloting together as Rangers, before the Drift and everything else that came with that, all Yancy ever needed to do was get one look at his brother's face -- one look -- to get a an idea of what he needed or wanted or felt.

The thing is, whether you like it or not, being the older sibling means learning to be a better person for the sake of the runt who decides at some point when he's three and you're six, that you're a titan; larger than life.

It means being faster, stronger, meaner to anyone who dares think that your kid brother is easy pickings in the back lot of school. It means being not just his friend, but his confidant, his mentor (even if it's the last thing he wants) — the guy with the bigger heart and the stronger stomach. It means anticipating his needs even better than your own because when the world comes crashing down all around you are all each other has left.

But what do you do when you fail at that? Where do you begin? ]

Hey, smallfry.

[ —Brother, I am so sorry for leaving you the way I did. ]

[ with lives like theirs, a past like theirs — they would have ended up all tangled with one another or distant and not talking. drifting made sure it's the former rather than the latter and raleigh's always been thankful for that — except in the moments when he's hated it more than anything because losing yancy would have been so much easier if they'd been distant instead of close, instead of connected.

( that's the pain talking, not raleigh. he knows that. )

yancy had been larger than life for raleigh for so long. the drift means he knows — knows how it feels from yancy's side, too.

smallfry. no one's called him anything like that in years. he doesn't know where to start, what he'd say because there's a million things and none of the words in his mind sound right. can he just hug you instead? ]

[ One moment they're standing apart and the next Yancy's got his arms around his brother's shoulders in a hug so tight and fierce as his heart hammers hard inside his ribcage.

What do you say when you have a second shot at being around the only family you have left? Not much. No words to cover it, except maybe--

You made it out alive. You made it back and you're okay.

Yancy can still see that night when he closes his eyes; how small Raleigh suddenly looked, still strapped in as Knifehead tore him out of Gipsy, how he could only think: If there's a God up there somewhere, please -- please -- let my brother make it safe back to shore.

He doesn't say a word but it haunts Yancy even now that Raleigh is solid in his arms, because memories never really let you go. He shudders a little and tighens his grip on his brother, the phantom spike of fear that wasn't his but Raleigh's running through his bones. ]

[ even before, yancy hadn't been bigger, broader than raleigh anymore — but to have his arms around him now -- there's solidity and yancy's there and warm and alive and those are not things that raleigh thought he'd ever get to feel or think again.

he'd piloted a jaeger solo and he'd made it out. he remembers, but it felt unreal at the time, automatic through a haze of pain and anger and he'd felt yancy die, how do you cope with something like that?

( you don't. you just put one foot in front of the other and you keep going and you watch your injuries heal and try to find work so you can put food in your stomach and eventually the pain fades enough to be manageable. )

it still feels unreal now. this feels unreal. ]

Are you really — [ here, back, alive? this is more than he would have dared hope for, even now that there's a future and he's willing to live in it rather than the past. even now that the breach is sealed, the clock is stopped, the war won.

yancy had been a casualty. casualties don't come back and casualty doesn't describe, doesn't even come close to describing how much the loss had hurt. ]

[ Yancy wants to laugh at the question, but he's half afraid of that balled up mess of feelings right beneath his throat. So instead he goes—] Shut up and don't ruin the moment. [—his voice a little shaky over the syllables.

To be completely honest, he doesn't know how he's back and he isn't about to question good things given by God-knows-what. He's just so happy he's shaking down to his toes. ]

[ the command earns a laugh. and if his laughter is shaky and a little wet, it's still laughter and he's missed his brother so much. ] What moment?

[ in case of feeling utterly overwhelmed by emotion, retreat behind snark and laughter -- except he's still holding on to yancy, hands in tight fists over his back, yancy's shirt between his fingers because he's not going to let his brother go again, he's not going to risk him disappearing.

not now that yancy's back. not when hope makes his chest ache, when he's beginning to believe in the future. ]

[ He could spend the next couple of hours like this, Yancy'll be completely honest about that. Only people who've ever experienced the Drift will understand it, but when you spend so much time in each's other's heads, physical touch is just the next best thing to reassurance that the both of you are still there. ] The one you just bulldozed, jerk.

[ He does pull back eventually, but his hand lingers along the base of Raleigh's nape as he takes a good long look at his brother. ]

You look good, brother.

[ even years after yancy's death, raleigh can still hear his brother's voice in his head sometimes. he catches himself less and less often turning to make some remark to yancy, though: it's long become a habit to reel it in, to keep those thoughts quiet instead of voicing them like he once might have.

back then, it hadn't always been necessary because yancy would have known anyway, but he'd done it anyway. after, yancy hadn't been there to listen anymore. point is, the drift and yancy's presence in his head have been a constant and even five years later, he's struggling with the loss of that.

physical touch is the next best thing. right now, it's a lifeline.

raleigh lets yancy pull back, but his hands come up to yancy's shoulders instead of resting on his back. he's not going to let go. couldn't, even if he wanted to. ]

You, too. Get lots of rest lately? [ a poor attempt at a joke, but the sentiment is sincere: yancy looks good.

of course, yancy looks alive so even if he'd been horribly scarred or crippled, raleigh would consider it an improvement. ]

[ The laughter is immediate and once Yancy starts, its like he can't stop.

(Christ, Rals. That is a terrible line, beats me why I find it so funny.)

He rests his forehead against the younger man's shoulder, the ha ha ha that escapes him rolling like endless waves in the ocean.

And then he just folds in, laughter turning to tears of relief, a misplaced echo of grief somewhere there, like a pale scar left behind in the place of an ugly wound.

Yancy realizes then that the Drift still sings between them, though how he ever thought that it wouldn't is a mystery to him now. And as he thinks that, there he is: His brother. His best friend. Just Raleigh. Just home. ]

Edited 2013-08-07 18:20 (UTC)

[ it's an awful joke; raleigh's never claimed to be particularly funny (or to have good timing, or to be well-suited as a ranger, or or or. there are a million things he knows he isn't all that good at — but he and yancy were good pilots and for a while, that mattered more than anything else.

he's tried not to wonder whether yancy would have survived if he'd done things differently, if they'd done things differently, if he'd been better. you make choices and you live with the consequences. what ifs didn't bring yancy back.)

it's an awful joke, but raleigh still feels a measure of pride and accomplishment, something childishly pleased, because his big brother is laughing — and then crying and raleigh closes his eyes and hugs yancy tighter again because he's missed his brother every day and here they are.

and if he chuckles about his own joke or if those chuckles are wet and shake him more than any laughter should — no shame in that. ]

Oh look, another one back from the dead. [ his sarcasm is almost tangible. ]

How does it feel, huh? Nice? Really? That's the best you've got?

[ Yancy's strong point is making out faces and taking down names.

So yeah. He knows who you are, Chuck Hansen. He respects your father the way any younger Ranger would a veteran at the job. You? Jury's out on that one, but he's seen you fight. 2019, Manila. One week before Christmas eve. You've saved lives together in larger than life Jaegers, so he'll let your shit-ass attitude slide. ]

I'm not much for big and fancy words. Nice is pretty good where I'm standing.

[ Yeah, Chuck remembers. He was sixteen, piloting alongside his father. Only been in a Jaeger for about a year at the time. Youngest Ranger to enlist after Mako.

He remembers. He's aware. ]

Now when you were supposed to die a bloody hero.

[ His brow furrows at Chuck's declaration because the whole idealized notion that death is justified if it's heroic has always struck him as an intensely naive viewpoint.

Yes, celebrate the passing of the soldiers who put their life on the line to protect those who couldn't, because these people were remarkable individuals. But to outright resent living and think it a cop-out? ]

You're not the least bit grateful that you get a second shot at things? [ Because Yancy is. For however long he's allowed to float around and be alive, he's grateful. ]

[ Chuck's a dick. He knows that. He was not well liked around the Shatterdome because he's arrogant and egotistical and the farthest thing from humble that one could imagine. ]

[ Life had been pretty good -- he'd liked it, wanted to keep it, revel in it. Kaiju attacks had been months apart, and he and his old man -- as much as they didn't get along, they were a damn good team. ]

[ Then everything went to shit and Chuck ended up with Stacker and you know -- he knew he wasn't coming back from that mission, he knew he wasn't going to be able to brush his shoulders off and walk away unscathed, another kaiju head stamped proudly on his armor. ]

[ He'd purposefully left his bomber jacket on his dads bed when he was suiting up. Just -- because he'd wanted his old man to have a little bit of something when he was gone. ]

[ And you know what -- he'd been okay with dying. Really, he had, because he'd sort of made his peace with Herc and the concept that he was gonna die and it was for a good fucking cause and now he's here and he's never going to pilot a jaeger again and he's just a washed up, has-been veteran that's probably going to die too young from complications. ]

[ Chuck's bitter. He's angry, and he's bitter, and he knows he should be grateful for another chance but he's just not right now. ]

No.

That's just sad, man.

[ Dying for something worth dying for is good. Living when you get the chance to is a gift. Especially if it's a second shot at things. ]

Becket Yancy-san.

[How compelling]

Mun-san is pleased to see you again.

Yancy Becket... Well, if you're not a sight for sore eyes.

( Pacific Rim ) voice testing...

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i'm already crying oh no

oh bb don't i have sympathetic tear ducts

no :C

jfc i swear this tag was difficult to write

i quit

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Throws on her Au shoes for the feels...

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i am so sorry it is tldr;

I AM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG orz

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oh go ahead make me cry sure

you are most welcome

i didn't need my heart anyway it's okay

don't worry we can trade seems only right goddamn beckets

goddamn beckets is right

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