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"And we kissed, as though nothing could fall
And the shame, was on the other side
Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever
Then we could be Heroes, just for one day"
Mike poured them some Jägermeister. Unsurprisingly, he managed to smuggle heavier alcohol to the headquarters, despite Marshal Rich’s ban on disorderly behavior. Jay smiled and muttered a thankful word, taking the mug filled with the pungent beverage with both hands. They never packed shot glasses while relocating to the Jaeger project facility in California or were offered new ones, despite being actual heroes and everything. Outside, downpour sprayed the circular portholes on top of their cabin’s low ceiling. The crew's cabins had been almost claustrophobic to Mike for the first few days he had to inhabit them. To him, they seemed nothing more than containers paneled with metallic alloy and glass fiber, buried into the belly of a gargantuan structure located below the sea level. Eventually, the cabin started to gain a cozy quality although, in a sorta futuristic Hobbit burrow way, if you will. When it rained and Jay had forgotten to make his bed in the morning, by night when they were allowed some leisure time after extraneous training, the lived-in looking, enclosed cabin, came to be a welcome sight. It smelled like their former day's laundry and worn sheets. The yellow lamps that warmed up the compact and functional space and their communal mess inside it made it look almost like their VCR repair shop, like home.
“Here’s to being giant robot pilots,” Mike raised his own chipped mug.
“And actually being great at it,” Jay replied, a little smug, but mostly relaxed looking. He was sitting in a swivel chair with his barefoot, dainty feet resting on the bed. Whenever they got back to their shared cabin, Jay always kicked off his boots first and foremost, sighing in relief as he did it, like they had came back from nothing more than a particularly busy day at work. He had been strangely calm and accepting since the day that particularly resourceful Kaiju found its way to Lake Michigan and wreaked havoc in Chicago. Not that Jay’s unshakeable stoicism in face of chaos and peril felt strange to Mike anymore.
They drank together, their movements coordinated exactly like when they were connected to their robot, Lightning Fast, adrift in the digital hub of the Jaeger’s cybernetic brain and also into each other's mental space. Mike barely could describe in proper human terms the sheer delight of being linked together like that, with Jay of all people, who was his favorite human being since they have met so many years ago. He never quite managed to explain how it was possible to feel so thrilled and serene simultaneously, as their mental link dissolved into a comforting feedback loop of white noise and purpose: together, they gave motion to a magnificent human-made behemoth, built to face deep sea creatures in battle. "Isn't that neat?" Mike would tell himself, giddy with excitement.
“I guess the end of the world is just befitting of us,” Mike said, raising his eyebrows. His big, dark eyes glowed under the hanging gold light.
Jay scoffed, “Now, there’s no need to be dramatic.”
But he had full awareness now that Mike didn’t pander to theatrics completely on purpose. It was so much of a second nature to him that Jay could swear Mike’s thoughts had a tang of oncoming heavy rain and changing winds, with notes of hailstorm, but that was an experience of insight that was hard to articulate as well.
“You’re more of a sensory guy, I get it,” Mike had said back then, when Jay tried to explain that, excitedly and unselfconscious of pouring out his heart's content. Mike felt flattered at being compared to uncontrollable forces of nature that catch you by surprise. "Well, you gotta be there to understand," Jay concluded, blushing, and Mike agreed wholeheartedly, because he actually had been.
Meanwhile, Mike took notes of small, almost unnoticeable things. After they gone through the drifting, Jay would have out of character messy streaks now and then and would forget to do some of his favored daily chores, like folding his sheets back to unwrinkled perfection and Mike simply realizing one day he hadn’t bounced his own leg in weeks, like his anxious tendencies were overtaken by someone else’s composure.
“We’re bleeding through,” Mike offered as an explanation, as Jay perused the handwritten list of behavior that changed between the two of them since their mind meld for the greater good.
Mike poured himself a second shot of the herbal liquor.
“As if you weren’t enjoying yourself,” Mike said. He drank from his mug with a frown, then twisted in the bottle cap closed. He approached the twin bunk bed to hide the green bottle under the mattress of the bottom bunk, slapping Jay’s resting feet away in the process. Of course Jay got the top bunk as soon as they were assigned to that cabin, and Mike had shown great restraint by not producing any kind of innuendo out of it. He climbed on his own bottom bunk and laid there, resting on his side, with his elbow sunk into the mattress while supporting his chin on his closed fist. He eyed Jay, who had pulled his legs away from their former resting spot and now was sitting cross legged on the swivel chair and looking thoughtful.
“Well, it was fucking overwhelming, having to go into the robot for the first time. You were there! We had barely no time to consider the… consequences.”
That first time when they had to pilot the robot, because there wasn’t anyone else available at the vicinity, or sober enough to politely decline being a test dummy, was quite an experience. Mike wasn’t exactly surprised when the mechanical colossus emerged from a secret laboratory right under the repair shop, as stranger things have happened to them before.
“Just get in the robot, you hack frauds,” the then newly introduced Marshal Rich yelled at them.
Later, they were offered a vague explanation that the facility’s scientists had created an AI capable of detecting the best matches for piloting the Jaegers and Mike and Jay’s compatibility as co-pilots was off the charts, but Mike didn’t need any experts to simply know they were born for each other.
“Fuck the consequences,” Mike mumbled, which made Jay laugh. They never had any regrets in that realm. If Jay ever feared this kind of intimacy, he didn’t anymore.
“I usually hate oversharing,” Jay stated, mostly to his empty mug. He placed it on the floor, too lazy to reach for the small desk pushed against a corner of the cabin.
“Oversharing is the definition of a mind meld, Jay,” Mike pointed. Jay chuckled. He knew exactly how Mike felt wherever Jay reacted to his commentaries and jokes, and it had been a lot to process, once. To think someone looked forward his slightest inputs like that... Moreover, he had forbidden Mike from making any Star Trek references for what they had done. It should be annoying that another perk of being half of a mentally merged team, was that now he knew almost all there was to be known about that goddamn space show, while Mike suddenly could recite trivia from obscure horror movies he never cared about before.
“But, yeah, I’m having fun,” Jay concluded.
“I know,” Mike replied, feeling like the coolest mecha pilot in the world.
Things escalated quickly once the balding marshal revealed himself to the repairmen. His evil, estranged father was in cohort with the aliens. Rich described him as a mysterious elderly involved with the strangest outer planar shenanigans and only Mike and Jay could stop such a villain. It was all very silly, and fate sounded almost childlike in its peculiar certainty that they were the ones supposed to take part in this schlocky fairy tale. And even with the menacing monsters stomping over coastal towns, Mike couldn’t prevent himself from actually wanting to be part of a little heroic arc.
“We could be heroes,” he told Jay, who cringed at Mike’s choice of words but followed him to the robot’s pilot's compartment.
They put on some kind of sleek looking black armor and, on count of three, were linked into Lightning Fast’s digital brain.
Once they were in, it felt like they were free falling. It was sudden and stomach dropping and if Mike have ever wondered how base jumping from the top floor of the tallest skyscraper in town felt like, he was pretty sure it must be something like that. Until someone caught him by the wrist and pulled him back to safety, or was it Mike who caught Jay in the middle of the air? Mike felt Jay whimpering and then sighing, despite them being about six feet apart in the real world. He, or them, as a whole, took a deep breath and let the drift to happen.
Once his feet were planted somewhere that felt like the ground, Mike looked around, trying to make sense of the barren place where he landed. He heard a whimper not long ago and wasn’t completely sure if that was really Jay or actually himself, accepting the massive pull of someone else’s mind gravitating toward his own. It didn't hurt, but it was disorienting. Jay’s heartbeat sped up and Mike wanted to reach out for him. Memories fled through them like a flock of birds, some of them pertaining to each other, but there were also older ones, and the most secluded, shameful, ones too. Mike held them in a tight clutch close to his chest. Jay had wanted to make movies since time immemorial and so did Mike. There were just too many images of two different boys behind a camera in different stages of their lives overlapping each other. They witnessed past joy and wishful dreams, also sorrow and loss and so many things that constitute of a life. It wasn't possible to be dismissive of any of that once it each piece of another was displayed like that.
Mike saw empty highways among farmland and found sharp barbed wire and foul looking scare crows he didn’t want to allow himself to be intimidated by. Jay was so guarded about his feelings, of course the path towards his innermost feelings was booby trapped and arduous to navigate through, hidden inside a twisted game of trick or treat. The sweetest parts were wrapped up in ugliness: truth was a prize kept in the center of a haunted maze that wasn't meant to be approached, but also exercised an eerie allure to Mike.
For his part, Mike wore his heart on his sleeve, so Jay had no trouble at all finding him. In a piece of memory lost from time, Mike was only eleven years old and absolutely frightened and grossed out by a overtly violent movie. He overcame the bad feelings caused by the gory bits all by himself back then, but as the drifting unfolded, he was approached by a scrawny, blonde kid with comically big buck teeth.
“It’s not real, you know,” Jay told Mike. “I’ve seen them all, they use puppets and red syrup and camera effects to trick you into feeling like that, but it’s not real,” he said, all knowing. Mike sniffed and nodded in agreement. “Here, let’s move. I… guess I can show you the way.”
He took Mike’s hand into his and pushed the menacing looking traps around them away like they were nothing more than mere curtains. As they threaded gently through Jay’s spooky maze, they talked about how wonderful it would be to know how all their most beloved movies were made. What would it require to rip out such deep emotions from a person’s heart, even when they knew it was just a plain magic trick. The more they've talked, their shared words and thoughts kept deeper fears at bay. Mike felt terrified of the steadfast approach of old age, of all there was to be lost in the course of one's life time. He also felt terribly lonely sometimes, unless Jay was there. From Mike’s perspective, Jay was brilliant. He glowed and stood tall even from his five feet and a few inches, like a watch tower above all, unfaltering and unafraid of the mundane. His most trusted companion for shared silence, excellent laughs, bad movies and crime.
Jay didn’t, couldn’t, hide his surprise and actual mirth that this was how Mike saw him.
“It’s really flattering,” Jay whispered in disbelief, “More so coming from someone like you.”
Mike looked around again, Jay was gone but Mike was seeing himself as how he used to look as an young adult. Trimmer, cool and handsome. He felt concerned, Jay’s admiration, affection even, was wistful, permeated by a brush of crushing dread he couldn’t really shake off.
“Why do you think so poorly of yourself?” Mike asked, gently. He kept walking, feeling wrapped in a kind of humane warmth he had to project back with Jay. I find you perfect too, don't act so surprised. Leaving behind the labyrinth of mortal looking traps laid by Jay, Mike stood as a bystander of his lasting feelings of wrongness. Jay told himself he was a misfit, and fated to be a loner. He looked like a creep and had gross impulses and thoughts befitting of a pervert.
Mike sat besides the smallish and gangly youth curled into himself, hugging his own thin knees. This was a filament of a memory from many years ago, Jay had just watched Pink Flamingos. That movie was brazen and vile but also wonderful and freeing, because it celebrated weirdness. He wished he could feel unabashed like those crass characters about his own perks.
“You’re not gross, nor freakish,” Mike pointed, calmly. “It’s okay having focused interests, or not liking or desiring people that much, or getting off on being doused in fake blood.”
“Shut up,” Jay said, but he smirked and rested his head on Mike’s shoulder. Such a gesture surprised Mike, he assumed Jay never craved for proximity of that kind.
“Eh, I thought all that was punk rock as fuck, seriously!” Mike said, meaning he wished he was there to reassure Jay he was never some puny poseur.
“Ugh, you are such a nerd!” Jay exclaimed, but his imperfect sweet smile sprawled from ear to ear.
“Sure, and so are you. You’re also interesting and smart. And I love you. Well, you've seen it all already, did it feel that much like those horror films of yours, hm? Learning all about my inner machinations and letting me see yours?”
“Yes, but that means it feels great.”
“Ew, Jay, you’re such a weirdo.”
At that point, as they had access to every nook and cranny of each other’s mental pathways, even knowing embarrassing insecurities and the best well hidden secrets seemed trivial. Mike marveled at Jay’s interest in the monstrous and the nightmarish. The Kaiju only caused youthful fascination with their bioluminescent tendrils and scary roaring maws, capable of chewing concrete. He never found any hint of fear in Jay, not of other worldly creatures nor of whatever real life might have kept in store to them. Instead of falling, immersed in each other, they soared.
The whole drifting process took about a couple of seconds to complete itself, even though it felt like revisiting their whole lives from an outsider’s point of view until absorbing it as their own. They finally emerged as one will made out of two embracing souls and charged against the monster raising from the lake.
In the end, the profound understanding caused by the drifting was companionable, so it felt not unlike how being around each other had always felt to them. Jay blushed in their shared headspace as he let Mike know how much comfort he derived from surrendering like that. In a revelation of sorts, Mike realized one didn’t really need the most astounding tech in the word at all, nor even incomprehensible Vulcan mythical powers to be this close of someone. It was a matter of time, an emphatic sort of bond made out of love and patience from someone willing to really getting to know that unique, mind-blowing person by their side. That was the reason for their compatibility, they had it in them since laying eyes on each other and bonding over a never ending reciprocity. "It's true love," Mike said, much to Jay's chagrin, even if he also thought so in a very well hidden corner of his soul.
After that first battle, a glorious and gruesome skirmish for Lake Michigan and their lives, when they finally unhooked from Lightning Fast, all they could do was stare at each other in awe. At loss of words, they descended into a breathless fit of giggles that rapidly evolved to uncontrollable laughing.
“Oh my god, dementia took hold of both of you!” The Marshal threw his hands in the air. “At least the town is safe, for now.”
“Plus, we’re in a winning streak,” Jay said, stretching his legs again and looking quizzical from his favored chair. He was correct, all of their last epic battles had been outstanding successes. Their team was known to be brutal and single minded in the battlefield, always coming up with creative methods of getting rid of the monster threat.
“That's right, Jay. Hm, do you think we will win this someday, like once for all?”
“We already did it,” Jay proclaimed, finally physically approaching Mike, by crawling into the bunk bed and to Mike’s side. He let Mike grab him and roll them over so Jay got to lay on top of Mike's broad chest, where he could revel sluggishly. They ran their fingers all over each other like they had been devoted lovers for years and knew exactly what the other needed and wanted.
The customary red alert signal blasted through the HQ's corridors, followed by Marshal Rich's voice giving orders and calling all the pilots available to the bridge, announcing a new Kaiju attack in Sidney. They grinned at each other, getting up from the shared bunk and ready for battle, reveling in glory.