Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

People have always wanted more from life — from Eos and everything she gives. They looked to the skies, and beyond, for any source of something new. New worlds, new life, new possibilities.

But they should have been looking towards the sea.

Because beneath the deep blue depths were monsters never before imagined until one day, about six years ago, when the first one broke the surface.

An entire city in Niflheim was wiped out in thirty minutes, and it took the Kingsglaives almost two days to finally take it down. So the people decided to fight back.

Jaegers were created; robots over two-hundred-and-fifty feet tall that could be piloted by people to destroy these monsters, now named Kaiju. It quickly became clear that the Jaegers were simply too big to be controlled by one person. So the human race discovered how to Drift; two conscious minds could phase together for a period of time in order to control these huge robots.

And the world was safe from the Kaiju.

The most famous of the Jaeger pilots are a unique case. The first ever trio of Jaeger pilots emerged three years after the first Kaiju attack and quickly rose to the top of every public ranking poll.

Gladiolus Amicitia is a twenty-three year old, six-foot-six gym freak. He was trained in Jaeger piloting immediately after the first attack when he quit the Crownsguard and started working for the Kingsglaives. He is fierce and strong, and won Sexiest Man on Eos two years in row according to several magazines.

Ignis Scientia is a twenty-two year old, six-foot mystery known for being the quietest of the three. No one knows exactly who he was before the first attack. Every man is intimidated by him, maybe even more so than Gladiolus, but for entirely different reasons.

Finally, Noctis Lucis Caelum is the twenty year old, five-foot-nine runt of the group, more commonly known as Jaeger royalty. Lean, dark, and handsome, everyone tries to catch this man’s attention. His father is one of the richest men in the world, and is the founder of the Jaeger Program.

No one knows for certain how these three men met, or how they Drift together so perfectly, but everyone admires them and looks up to them to be their saviours from the never-ending onslaught of attacks.

Prompto Argentum is a small man; lithe and quick, and is a Jaeger pilot. He has been since he was young, and piloted a Jaeger with his adoptive sister, Aranea Highwind. Jaeger pilots are regarded as the best of the best; everyone knows them, and every pilot has a fan base, however small.

Except from Prompto and his sister.

Their Jaeger was known as ‘Quicksilver’, and specialised in fast stealth and ranged attacks. No one knew who piloted him, until an accident the previous year when Quicksilver was overwhelmed by three Kaijus and was torn apart. Aranea was tragically killed during the fight, leaving Prompto once again on his own.

He thought that maybe, no one found out who he was and just assumed that both of Quicksilver’s pilots had perished that day.

He was wrong.

A knock on his door distracts the blond from his TV program and cold cup of coffee. He stands from his armchair in his dingy little apartment almost robotically, and heads to the sound. He spots himself in the mirror as he passes; all messy hair and dark circles under blue eyes, but quickly looks away and unlocks the door.

A woman is stood on his doorstep in a white dress, with her white blonde hair tied up in a high ponytail. She smiles.

“Prompto Argentum?” She asks, inclining her head.

She has a clipboard in her hand, Prompto notices. He grips the door hard.

“Yeah,” He replies, “That’s me.”

“My name is Lunafreya,” The woman introduces, laying a delicate hand on her chest, “I am a representative from the Jaeger Program. We would like to offer you a place in our ranks.”

Prompto narrows his eyes suspiciously, “Sorry, lady. I don’t pilot.”

Lunafreya looks down at her clipboard, leaning on her hip, “The designs for Quicksilver don’t look all that complicated. It would be a great asset to us.” She turns her clipboard around to show the exact plans for Prompto’s old Jaeger — blueprints he could recognise from a mile away.

“I don’t pilot,” Prompto repeats adamantly, eyes hooked on the pages, “And that Jaeger should be left alone.”

She takes her clipboard back, “Your sister, Aranea Highwind. It was her plans for Quicksilver, wasn’t it?”

“How do you know that name?”

Lunafreya’s smile turns sly, “I know a lot of things about you, Mr. Argentum.”

Gritting his teeth, Prompto blinks harshly at the lady, “Are you trying to threaten me?”

“Not threaten you, Mr. Argentum,” Lunafreya shakes her head, ponytail swishing gently, “Persuade you.”

“They’re beginning to sound like the same thing. What if I say no?”

“The world have always looked up to Quicksilver and his pilots. I think the reveal of the last remaining one would create many happy faces.”

“You want to reveal my identity,” Prompto sums up. He shakes his head, smiling although the situation at hand was far from enjoyable — at least for him. “What would you have me do?” He asks.

“Pack a bag and meet me outside your apartment building in ten minutes,” Lunafreya answers, sounding as though she’d had this planned for a long time, “I trust you won’t try to run.”

And then she turns around and walks away.

Prompto is stood in his doorway. It takes him a moment to slam the door shut and turn back inside his dingy apartment. He heads to his bedroom (one bed, one wardrobe) and grabs the black duffle bag he’d left on the floor a few days ago. He throws some clothes in and a second pair of shoes before heading to the bathroom (toilet, shower, sink) and packing the other essentials.

Satisfied that he’d done enough, he makes his way back to the front door. He notices his camera bag hung on the coat rack and looks at it for a few seconds. He bites his lip, then grabs it and slings it over his shoulder. He hits the light switch on his way out and heads through the front door, then down the cramped and filthy metal staircase.

It’s raining outside, he realises, soon getting drenched in the heavy downpour, but it’s also incessantly loud. He spots Lunafreya standing by the street, with a matching white umbrella up over her head. She nods, once.

From behind her, the source of the noise appears as a helicopter lowers itself to the street. She makes eye contact with Prompto, then turns and is helped inside it by someone in Kingsglaive gear.

Prompto looks up and down his empty street, catching the eye of a pair of young children in the building opposite looking down at the helicopter with open mouths, and decides the only choice he has is to get on it.

Prompto isn’t sure whereabouts Lunafreya is taking him, even after a while into the journey, but he figures nothing could be worse than the tiny apartment he’d been living in since his sister’s death.

Lunafreya is sat opposite him in the helicopter, white umbrella next to her, dripping water onto the floor methodically. There are a few other Kingsglaives sat with them, silent with their faces covered. Prompto wonders if they’re Jaeger pilots too, or if they’re just Kingsglaives.

She doesn’t talk to him, or the Kingsglaives, and is instead sat fiddling around on her phone throughout the journey.

“How did you find me?” Prompto tries eventually, hoping for a reaction.

Lunafreya doesn’t look up, “I know a lot of things about you, Mr. Argentum.” She says again.

Prompto rolls his eyes, “Right. Helpful.”

After that, Prompto doesn’t try to engage in conversation again. He sits through the helicopter ride, duffle bag by his feet and camera case safely in his lap. He’d noticed Lunafreya eyeing it when he climbed into the helicopter, but she didn’t say anything. And Prompto would rather be caught dead than without his camera.

He turns his attention to the small window next to him, but to his dismay, he can’t see anything. The rain is coming down so hard and the sun has finally dipped beyond the horizon, leaving the world in complete darkness.

Eventually, the helicopter lowers to the ground and at last Prompto can see something; a tall fortress-like building lit up with small golden lights from windows and street lamps. They land with a jolt, and Prompto grabs his camera to stop it from falling off of his lap.

Lunafreya puts her phone away and picks up her umbrella. She waits patiently for a Kingsglaive to heave open the side door before she climbs out and puts her umbrella up. She looks back over her shoulder.

“Mr. Argentum?” She inclines her head, and Prompto can see himself getting quickly annoyed with the woman’s almost emotionless gestures.

He looks out across the landing pad. They seem to be in the middle of an ocean (and Prompto is already tallying up exactly how much of a bad idea that is) and across the wide platform of tarmac he sees a man under a black umbrella, with a Kingsglaive by his side.

Sighing, Prompto hops out of the helicopter, feet splashing in a puddle that had formed on the tarmac. Lunafreya offers him a kind smile, and starts walking across the landing pad. Prompto follows, blond hair sticking to the back of his neck as the rain further drenches him completely.

They stop when they reach the man. He is a lot taller than both Prompto and Lunafreya, with greying hair and a thick but well maintained beard. He is wearing a dark three piece suit with a blue tie, and Prompto notices the black ring around his middle finger.

“Luna,” The man greets with a smile, “How was the trip?”

“Comfortable, sir, thank you,” Lunafreya replies, “It’s good to be back.”

“It’s good to have you back, my dear,” The man says, then turns to Prompto, “And you must be Mr. Argentum?”

Prompto doesn’t reply, and keeps a straight face.

“I am Regis Lucis Caelum,” The man continues anyway, “I run the Jaeger Program on this side of the border. I have heard a lot about you.”

Regis turns around and gestures for them to follow him. They walk under a huge stone arch, and then through a metal door hidden in the darkness. Finally, they’re inside and out of the rain, causing Prompto to run a hand through his hair and slick it back. He is now very conscious that he didn’t grab a coat before he left, and starts shivering almost immediately. No one else seems to notice.

Regis and Lunafreya put down their umbrellas and hand them to the Kingsglaive who was with Regis. The Kingsglaive bows slightly, then marches away.

Without a word, Regis and Lunafreya head through a metal door at the back of the room. Prompto follows, not wanting to be left behind, and quickly realises that they’re in an elevator. They ride down in silence, Lunafreya having pulled out her phone again.

Prompto keeps one hand on his camera bag the whole time, and doesn’t make eye contact with Regis who seems determined to make the man look at him.

After a few moments, the elevator stops and the door opens. The three step out into a corridor and it takes all Prompto’s self-control not to wrinkle his nose in disgust.

When he thought that nothing could be worse than his apartment building, he had been wrong. The base looks like it had been built during the Great War, with burnt orange rusting pipes and metal walls. He lets Regis lead him down the hallway.

“Of course, this isn’t much,” Regis says, “But wait until you see the rest of it. If you’ll follow me through here.”

He stops at a control panel in the wall and punches in a few digits of code. Then, the rusting door in front of them groans as it slides open, scraping against the floor. Prompto winces at the noise, and waits for it to be opened fully before following Regis and Lunafreya inside.

“Welcome to the Citadel,” Regis introduces, waving a hand around them.

Suddenly the complex opens out. The room is bigger than a warehouse, with ceilings that are so high, Prompto guesses two Jaegers could be stacked on top of each other and still fit. The floors are glossy and black, with directions painted on them in yellow. There are Kingsglaives walking around, some of them in vehicles similar to golf karts.

Prompto whistles when he spots the two-hundred-and-fifty foot Jaeger suspended in the air by wires, being worked on by some mechanics on metal scaffolding, “Isn’t that...?”

“Armiger,” Regis says, and Prompto sees him looking up at the Jaeger, “One of our oldest. But don’t let that fool you; she’s one of our strongest, too.”

“Holy shit,” Prompto breathes, then clears his throat, “This is incredible, Mr. Caelum. But why did you want me here?”

“We’re running out of pilots,” Regis answers simply, “I knew of your work and requested you’d be brought in.”

“I don’t pilot,” Prompto shakes his head immediately, “I’m not Drift Compatible anymore.”

Regis looks down at Prompto, face soft, “My boy, I’m sure I have someone here you are Drift Compatible with. Many of our Kingsglaives are ready to find a co-pilot, there will be someone here for you.”

Prompto frowns, “Sir, you don’t understand—”

“He’s thinking of his sister,” Lunafreya interrupts, and Prompto had almost forgot she was there.

“Of course,” Regis nods, “Aranea, correct? Yes, yes, I’ve heard. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” Prompto says bitterly, the words tasting bad in his mouth, “I stopped piloting when she... I’m not Drift Compatible.”

“The more you say it, the more it will come true,” Lunafreya comments.

Prompto stares down at the polished floors, repeating the phrase in his mind like a mantra. If she‘s right, then Prompto doesn’t want to take any chances.

Regis pats Prompto on the shoulder, “Come. I’ll show you to a room.”

Prompto forces himself after Regis, and at some point Lunafreya bids them goodbye and leaves. They head down a few smaller corridors until Regis points towards what looks to be a rusty vault door in a wall. He goes to speak when—

“Dad!”

Prompto looks down the corridor to see someone a few inches taller than him jog up to them wearing all black. Prompto blinks, then his brain catches up with him and Holy shit that’s Noctis Lucis Caelum! then Holy shit that’s Regis’ son!

Noctis stops when he reaches Regis, and spares a look over Prompto, “Have you seen Nyx? I promised I’d train with him tomorrow but I can’t find him.”

“Sorry, I can’t say I have,” Regis replies, then waves a hand at Prompto, “This is Mr. Argentum, a new pilot we’ve recruited.”

Noctis looks to Prompto again, eyes staying on his blond hair for slightly too long, “I haven’t seen you around. Are you Kingsglaive?”

“No,” Prompto answers, “I’m barely a pilot anymore.”

Regis clearly refrains himself from rolling his eyes, “Mr. Argentum doesn’t have a co-pilot yet. Cindy and Cid have the plans for his Jaeger to start work in the morning.”

Prompto’s blue eyes widen, “T-they do? I, uh, I’d rather not have my old Jaeger back, if it’s all the same.”

“You’re an ex-pilot?” Noctis raises a delicate eyebrow, “But you’re so young.”

“It’s a long story,” Prompto mumbles, averting his eyes.

“Anyhoo,” Noctis changes the subject quickly, “I better go and find Nyx. See ya, dad.”

“Goodbye, Noct,” Regis says tiredly as his son runs around the corner and out of sight. He sighs, and turns back to Prompto, “This is where you’ll be staying while you’re with us. Make sure you get some rest, I’ll have Lunafreya show you around some more in the morning.”

Prompto nods, and pulls the vault door open to step inside. He stops in the doorway and turns back, “Mr. Caelum?”

“Yes?” Regis looks over his shoulder from where he’d already started to walk away.

‘I am not Drift Compatible. I am not Drift Compatible. I am not Drift Compatible.’

“... Thanks.”

And he heads inside.

Prompto’s vault room is possibly even smaller than his dingy apartment. It is two rooms, with a single bed in the main one with a chest of drawers and bedside table with a single lamp and digital clock. The second room is a bathroom, with a stand in shower, toilet, and sink with a mirror that had been smashed.

Prompto drops his duffle bag to the bed, then places his camera safely on top of the chest of drawers. He peels his soaked shirt over his head and drops it to the floor with an awful sounding splat to deal with later. He kicks his shoes and socks off, followed by his jeans and boxers as he stumbles into the bathroom after grabbing his shower gel and shampoo from his bag.

He fiddles with the shower knobs for a while, taking his contact lenses out while he waits for water that is just about lukewarm. He pulls his wrist bands off his right arm and leaves them in the sink before pushing himself in the shower.

Not bothering with a full wash, he cleans the smell of rain from his body and lets the water colour his hair even darker than before. He ignores his right wrist for the most part, but every now and then the dark ink stained there would catch his eye and make him feel slightly more ill each time.

After about ten minutes, he turns off the water and shakes his hair before stepping out. He grabs a white towel from the side of the sink and ties it around his waist, grateful for the second one hidden underneath which he drapes round his shoulders. He slides the wristbands back onto his arm quickly, before walking back into the bedroom.

He dries himself off and changes into a pair of grey sweatpants. He rubs at his hair with the towel for a bit, but quickly gives up and tosses the towel to the floor with his wet clothes from earlier. He looks down at his laundry for a moment, then forces himself to pick everything back up and hangs it over the shower to dry off.

With a sigh, Prompto throws himself backwards onto the bed. The mattress is hard and the sheets are thin, and Prompto finds himself thinking back to his small apartment. At least he had about three blankets there. He rolls onto his side, facing the vault door and sees his camera on the chest of drawers. He stares for a moment, debating, before pushing himself up from the bed again and snatching up the camera case.

He puts it back down again on the bedside table, closer to him, and pulls an orange bottle of pills from the side pocket. Dropping two into his hand, he swallows them dry and lays back against the flat pillows once more. He stays still for a while, watching the vague numbers on the clock shift a few times before sleep finally claims him.

Chapter Text

Prompto wakes to an alarm he didn’t even know was set. He reaches out a hand and smacks the top of the digital clock. The beeping stops.

Cracking open blue eyes, he reads the green numbers as ‘5:30 AM’. With a groan, he pulls himself from the rock mattress and changes into clean clothes after putting his lenses in. He runs his hands through his hair in front of the cracked bathroom mirror, making sure it laid mostly flat before leaving through the vault door.

The corridor has a few Kingsglaives wandering down it, and Prompto wracks his brain to retrace his steps from the night before. Eventually, he makes his way back to the hanger where he saw the Armiger Jaeger and is saved from embarrassment when he spots Noctis walking across one of the marble paths.

He follows the pilot at a distance and soon comes to what looks to be a canteen with tables and benches set up. It’s busier than anywhere else in the facility, with people walking around with trays of food, talking to their teammates.

Prompto notices Noctis head to a table in the corner, already occupied by two of people. He smiles at them and sits opposite, pulling a tray towards himself. Dark blue eyes drift towards Prompto, who quickly looks away and heads towards a bunch of food trays. He grabs the nearest one, making sure no one else is paying for them, and ducks to the nearest empty table.

The porridge tastes bland, and Prompto barely forces his way through half the bowl before he gives up and makes himself stop.

“Mr. Argentum?”

Prompto looks up from the pitiful breakfast tray to see Lunafreya standing nearby, in a white dress that reaches just past her knees, slightly different from the one she wore yesterday.

“You guys don’t even have coffee here?” Prompto jokes, but he wishes she would laugh and bring him some.

She doesn’t.

“Mr. Caelum asked me to show around the Citadel,” Lunafreya says, “Whenever you are ready, let me know.”

Prompto glances to the porridge, then stands up, “I’m ready.”

Lunafreya smiles with a nod, and starts to walk away. Prompto quickly jogs after her, vaguely aware of the canteen watching them leave.

She leads him back through the hanger and past the Armiger where, if possible, the warehouse opens up even more; Jaegers lining the area in different stations, with metal scaffolding at around their head height.

“This is our Workshop,” Lunafreya explains, “All our Jaegers are built, repaired, and stored here. Some of these I’m sure you’ll recognise from TV.” She points, “Leviathan.”

Prompto immediately recognises the Leviathan; one of the tallest Jaegers at three-hundred feet tall. She’s slim for quick movements and is painted steel blue with her tag name, ‘Leviathan’, spray painted on her shoulder.

“I’m sure you know her pilots, too,” Lunafreya adds. Prompto does. Gladiolus Amicitia and Ignis Scientia; two of the Big Three. The Big Three can Drift together and in any combination, meaning they have a fair few Jaegers between them. And still, they are the most famous Jaeger pilots, having taken down over one hundred Kaijus between them.

“Bahamut.” Lunafreya nods to another Jaeger.

Bahamut is shorter than Leviathan at two-hundred-and-thirty feet. Painted bronze with his tag name painted across his chest, Bahamut specialises in strength and weaponry, with two great swords strapped to his back like wings. He’s piloted by Noctis and Gladiolus, another two of the Big Three combination.

“Titan.”

Prompto looks to his other side to see Titan. Stood at two-hundred-and-forty feet, Titan is a deep brown colour, and specialises in defence and blockades, his tag name painted down his arm. He’s piloted by two Kingsglaives that Prompto can’t quite remember the names of, but he’s definitely seen Titan on TV before.

“Shiva.”

Shiva is stood next to Titan at the same height, painted ice white with her tag name in cool blue across her back. She fights using stealth and speed, and is piloted by Ignis Scientia and Noctis Lucis Caelum, the final two of the Big Three combination.

Prompto glances to Lunafreya, who is looking around almost in awe at the Jaegers. Prompto narrows his eyes a little.

“Are you a pilot, Miss?” He asks.

Lunafreya turns to look over her shoulder, but doesn’t stop walking, “No, I’m not. My brother was. He was killed during an attack.”

“I’m sorry,” Prompto apologises, tucking his hands in his hoodie pockets, “I’m sure he was a brave man.”

“It’s okay, he wasn’t,” Lunafreya shrugs lightly, “He was coward and paid for it in the end.”

Prompto looks away, unsure how to respond.

“Mr. Caelum has organised a few Kingsglaives to train with you this afternoon,” Lunafreya says, “He handpicked them himself. He believes that one of them may be able to Drift with you.”

“I’m not Drift Compatible,” Prompto replies immediately.

Lunafreya raises an eyebrow, “You keep saying that. Why?”

Prompto wants to respond ‘Because it’s true!’ but the words get stuck in his throat. He is saved, however, when Noctis Lucis Caelum appears from behind Shiva, looking at his phone.

“Noct!” Lunafreya calls, and the Jaeger pilot looks up. He grins, slipping his phone into his back pocket and coming to meet the blonde.

“Hey, Luna!” Noctis greets, blue eyes sliding to Prompto, “Mr… Argentum, right?”

“Prompto,” Prompto shrugs light-heartedly, “Just Prompto’s fine.”

“Noct,” Noctis introduces himself properly for the first time, “How are you finding it?”

“A little overwhelming,” Prompto admits, “But it’s alright. Did you find your friend last night?”

Noctis scoffs, “No. I have no idea where he went. Probably off with his co-pilot somewhere.”

“Who, Nyx?” Lunafreya asks, seeing Noctis nod, “No, he was with me last night.”

“Why was he with you?” Noct frowns.

Lunafreya goes red and looks down, “We were…”

“Oh my god, you guys—!”

Lunafreya squeaks, and kicks Noctis’ shin. Noctis yelps, glaring at the woman.

“It’s fine,” Noctis mumbles, “I’m sure Libertus will tell me when he finds out.”

Lunafreya blushes even harder, “Noct, stop it!”

Prompto doesn’t know whether he should say something or not, so he distracts himself with the huge Jaegers surrounding him. He remembers their names, their stats and pilots. When the Kaijus first surfaced, he remembers being an absolute Jaeger fanboy. He knew everything about them.

He remembers when his sister first started working on Quicksilver.

“Hey, Miss?” Prompto says, interrupting Lunafreya and Noctis’ conversation, “Is there any chance I can meet the mechanics working on my Jaeger? I have a few ideas.”

“Of course,” Lunafreya agrees, taking Prompto’s elbow and dragging him away, “Bye, Noct.”

“I could come with?” Noctis offers.

“I said; goodbye, Noctis!” Lunafreya calls over her shoulder, not turning around or stopping.

She takes Prompto over to a more or less empty Jaeger station where two people are stood over a wooden table. Lunafreya clears her throat as they near, but Prompto doesn’t know why considering her heels are clicking on the polished floors.

One of the people turns around; a woman maybe a little older than Lunafreya with golden blonde hair, a lot different from Lunafreya’s which was practically white. She has a baseball cap on, and is wearing very short shorts and a cropped jacket that has been unzipped enough to show her bra.

“Howdy, Lady Luna,” She greets, walking away from the older man she was with to meet the pair, “How’re ya doing?”

“I’m fine,” Lunafreya replies, inclining her head, “Cindy, this is Prompto Argentum. Quicksilver’s pilot.”

Cindy grins, “I’d offer to shake ya hand but I’m a little grimy righ’ now. It’s great t’ meetcha.”

“Yeah, you too,” Prompto responds, struggling to keep his eyes up.

“Mr. Argentum said he had some ideas he’d like to talk to you about,” Lunafreya says, “If that’s okay. I’ll leave you guys to it. Prompto,” She turns to the man, “You’re needed in the gym at about one o’clock, I’m sure Cindy will be able to help you find it.”

Prompto nods, and Lunafreya turns and walks away, heels clicking loudly and blonde hair swinging behind her.

Someone catches Prompto’s eye (maybe a Kingsglaive out of uniform?) and stares at him. His eyes slide to Cindy, and then to Lunafreya’s retreating form.

“Don’t mind them,” Cindy says, noticing who Prompto was looking at, “There ain’t a lot of blondes around here. They assume we’re all Niffs, or somethin’.”

Prompto’s hand subconsciously goes to his wrist bands, “Yeah. Crazy.”

Cindy claps her hands together excitedly, “So! Lady Luna said you had a few ideas for your Jaeger!”

“Actually, Miss,” Prompto says, “I don’t want you to build my Jaeger. Not like that!” Prompto covers when he sees the disappointment on her face, “I don’t want you to build my old Jaeger. Quicksilver died with my sister,” He says bluntly, “Build me something new.”

Cindy’s face lights up, “T’ be honest, Mr. Argentum, you’ve just made my life easier. I have a few Jaeger shells knocking around to have mods added an’ a fresh layer of paint. Your designs were so specific, it would have taken me months t’ put it together.”

“You build all of the Jaegers?”

“Not all of them. A fair few, though. My Paw-Paw an’ I made most of the Big Three’s Jaegers. We’ve been working for a long time.”

“Listen, Miss—”

“Cindy,” Cindy interrupts, “Just Cindy.”

“Cindy,” Prompto corrects, “The thing is, I don’t want you to waste your time building a Jaeger for me, because I’m… I’m not Drift Compatible.”

Cindy laughs, “Everyone’s Drift Compatible with someone.”

“I was. I was Drift Compatible with my sister. But I’m not Drift Compatible anymore.”

“The Big Three are Drift compatible with one another,” Cindy says, “I believe there’s more than one person for everyone. I’ll build you ya Jaeger, Mr. Argentum. An’ if it turns out you’re not Drift Compatible, well... I’ll have a spare Jaeger.”

“Alright, then,” Prompto agrees hesitantly.

“I’ll make you a deal. If it turns out you’re not drift compatible, then... fifty gil says you are.”

“Done,” Prompto shakes Cindy’s hand, “If I’m not, you owe me.”

“We’ll see,” Cindy smiles mischievously, “So, Prompto. Tell me, which are your favourite parts o’ your favourite Jaegers?”

Prompto and Cindy spend the rest of the morning going over plans for Jaegers, until they realise it is almost one o’clock. Cindy walks Prompto to the gym, which is where he is now, waiting for someone to clue him in.

The gym is another huge hall, with wooden laminate flooring. There are a few punching bags and other gym equipment around the room, with men and women dressed in black sitting around the perimeter. Prompto is leaning against the back wall, watching the door he originally came through for Lunafreya who had told him to meet her there.

Eventually, she does turn up, with Regis and another man Prompto doesn’t recognise. She walks across the laminate floor ahead of the two men, heels clicking against the wood, and Prompto stands to meet them.

“Mr. Argentum,” She greets, “Good to see you. This is Nyx Ulric,” She points to the man Prompto didn’t know, and begins to walk away before she even finishes introducing them, “He trains a lot of the Kingsglaives. He’s a pilot too.”

“Nice to meet you,” Prompto shakes Nyx’s outstretched hand, “Who’s your Jaeger?”

“Armiger, usually,” Nyx answers, “Though she’s in the ‘shop right now. I’ve heard a bit about you from Luna.”

“Yeah, she’s… sweet.”

Regis clears his throat, “Mr. Argentum, I’ve handpicked these Kingsglaives to be your potential co-pilots. I hope you find someone here to your liking.”

Prompto sighs, playing with his wristbands idly, “Not saying that your Kingsglaives are bad or anything, sir, but I probably won’t. I’m not Drift Compatible.”

Lunafreya makes a small noise of displeasure at the back of her throat, eyeing Prompto suspiciously. Nevertheless, she calls up the first Kingsglaive and invites Prompto to the makeshift combat ring.

Prompto understands what he’s got to do; fight the Kingsglaives until he finds one that can match him. But the main problem is; these men and women are trained fighters. Prompto is not. He was trained by his sister, and they taught each other. As a result, no one knows Prompto’s way of fighting, apart from Prompto.

The first person is taken down in two minutes, flat against the floor with Prompto’s foot hovering above her throat.

The second person is down in three minutes, landing on his back two feet from the blond.

The third runs at Prompto, who dodges at the last second, and runs head first into the wall.

This goes on well into the afternoon, until Regis calls it quits and decides to re-evaluate his Kingsglaive choices. Lunafreya offers to take Prompto back to the canteen for dinner, or to his room if he wasn’t hungry, to which he denies both and opts to staying in the gym.

Nyx claps him on the back and bids him goodbye before leaving with Lunafreya and Regis, the Kingsglaives having cleared out not long before.

Prompto sighs, rolling his shoulders back and stretching his arms out. He’d expected the afternoon to have gone as well as it did have and, wandering over to the nearest hanging punching bag, he decides to burn his left over energy.

He hits at the bag for a while, aware that he’s doing nothing but damaging his knuckles, but doesn’t care enough to stop. He could feel his sister’s eyes on him during the fights, evaluating his every move and step despite her being gone. He hits harder, fighting against tears threatening to push at his eyes the more he thinks about her — her voice, her smile, her smell.

“Someone’s had a rough day.”

Prompto stops, fist against the punching bag, breathing heavily, “I’m not really in the mood to talk about it.”

“I’m no good with the emotional stuff anyway. But I can tell you to wrap your hands before you split your knuckles.”

Prompto pulls away, looking down at his hands and wiggling his fingers, looking at the blood splattering the back of his hand, “It might be too late for that.”

He turns around when he hears the person click his tongue behind him. The man is huge, definitely over six foot, with muscles everywhere and great swirling tattoos down his arms, the details covered by his tank top. And Prompto recognises his face from magazines instantly.

“You’re Gladiolus Amicitia,” He realises, “Are all of you here, or what?”

“Which one have you already met?” Gladiolus asks.

“Noctis,” Prompto replies quickly, still a little in awe, “Sorry, hi. I’m Prompto.”

“Gladio,” Gladiolus shakes Prompto’s hand with a smile, “Noct mentioned you, actually.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, yeah. Short blond, seemed a little sad. Says he’s a pilot but doesn’t show much interest in piloting.”

Prompto feels his cheeks burn, and averts his eyes awkwardly, “I was a pilot, I stopped last year. Mr Caelum wants my help, but… I’m not Drift Compatible.”

Gladiolus rolls his amber eyes with a scoff, “Everyone’s Drift Compatible with someone. Who did you used to pilot with?”

“My sister,” Prompto turns back to the punching bag to try and distract himself from the conversation, “They’re trying to make me find someone to Drift with, but my sister is the only one who knows me like that.”

“Where is she?”

“Six feet under,” Prompto replies shortly, hitting the bag hard but pulling back with a hiss of pain, “Fuck.”

“I said you should have wrapped your hands,” Gladiolus reprimands, “C’mere, I’ve got some antibacterial stuff.”

Prompto watches as Gladiolus walks away to the far wall where a grey duffle bag had appeared, obviously when Gladiolus had entered. He crouches down and searches through it for a moment, then pulls out a green first aid box. He pops it open, then looks back to Prompto with a raised eyebrow.

The blond heads over to join the man, and sits on the low bench nearby.

Gladiolus pours some sort of liquid on to a cloth, then holds his hand out for Prompto’s. He takes it, Gladiolus’ warm fingers closing around his wrist as he gently places the cloth on his knuckles. Prompto hisses again.

“Sorry,” Gladiolus mutters, “It’s gonna hurt.”

“I realised!” Prompto grits his teeth and watches as Gladiolus cleans the blood staining the bottom of his fingers and his knuckles.

Gladiolus takes the cloth away once he’s done and pulls out a roll of bandages from the box.

“Is that necessary?” Prompto asks.

“Yup,” Gladiolus nods, unwrapping some and tearing it from the rest of the roll. He wraps it around Prompto’s hand a few times, then ties it in a knot on his palm.

“Thanks,” Prompto pulls away, flexing his fingers, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Sure I did,” Gladiolus shrugs, packing up his first aid kit, “You’re stressed out about something. Maybe it’s the new location, I dunno. I came here with Noct and Ignis, and my sister, so I was never really on my own.”

Ignis Scientia is the final of the Big Three, the one Prompto hasn’t met yet. Prompto had seen all three of them on TV before, during interviews and on old news recordings. He’d never even dreamed of meeting them, and has already required first aid from one of them the moment he meets him, in a gym of all places.

“Thanks,” Prompto murmurs again, for lack of anything else to say.

“So,” Gladiolus grunts, lowering himself so he’s sitting on the floor, “They want you to pilot. We must be running low.”

“The same Jaegers are on TV every attack,” Prompto informs, playing with his wristbands subconsciously, “Leviathan, Titan, Shiva, Bahamut, Armiger… It’s the same few pilots. Every day.”

“Are you a civilian?” Gladiolus arches his brow, “I thought most ex-pilots devoted themselves to the Wall or somethin’.”

The Wall is a great boarder that’s being built around all major towns and cities on Eos. If you’re not a pilot, or a scientist who researches Kaiju, or a mechanic, you would build the Wall. And if you don’t do that, you’re a civilian, someone who stays at home and doesn’t do anything to help with the Kaiju threat. With the amount of collateral damage happening with the attacks, not many people are civilians anymore.

“Yeah, I’m a civilian,” Prompto answers simply, “Not strong enough for the Wall, not smart enough for the Kaijus.”

“We’re always looking for mechanics,” Gladiolus suggests with a shrug, “If you can pilot one, you know how they work.”

“I built my old Jaeger,” Prompto admits, and Gladiolus blinks in slight shock, “With my sister, and her friend.”

“That’s impressive, dude,” Gladiolus whistles, leaning back on his hands, “Why didn’t you become a mechanic?”

Prompto gestures to his hair, “Too many people think I’m Niff. No one will hire me.”

“That’s rough, man, I’m sorry. They’re too many prejudiced people out there. It’s not fair.”

“I was okay living on my own. I was getting by. I suppose the extra cash wouldn’t hurt, but all of this is going to be pointless at the end of the day, since, y’know, I’m not Drift Compatible.”

“I have two co-pilots,” Gladiolus comments, “There’s bound to be someone out there for you.”

“It’s not like I’m trying to fall in love after my last partner died, or some shit,” Prompto rolls his eyes, “I had a co-pilot, and now I don’t. That’s that.”

“There you are!”

Prompto and Gladiolus look up as Noctis wanders into the gym, dragging his feet against the flooring.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” He complains, smacking Gladiolus on the back when he gets to him, “I ate dinner with Iggy ages ago, you never turned up!”

“Sorry, your majesty,” Gladiolus responds teasingly, “Guess I got distracted.”

“Guess so,” Noctis grumbles, then notices Prompto, “Oh, hey! Prompto, right? I’ve been seeing you everywhere recently. Have you found a co-pilot, yet?”

“Nope,” Prompto replies easily, “Nothing yet.”

“What happened to your hand?” Noct asks, cocking his head to one side with a small frown.

Prompto flushes, “Oh, I, uh—”

“He didn’t wrap his hands while he was boxing,” Gladiolus interjects, pointing towards the punching bag.

Noctis winces sympathetically, “Ouch. I’ve done that before, it’s not nice.”

Prompto smiles awkwardly and nods, a silence falling over them. Deciding it‘s his fault it got awkward quickly, he pushes himself to his feet.

“Thanks for the help,” He says, raising his hand a little, “I’ll, uh… see you around.”

“Oh, bye!”

“See you around.”

Prompto leaves the gym in a hurry, and starts jogging down the corridor. He retraces his steps, arriving in the Workshop which is practically empty now, and then follows the next few corridors until he finds his room. He pushes the vault door open and heads inside, shoving it shut behind him.

Everything is as he left it; duffle bag on the floor and camera bag on the bedside table. He sits down on the edge of his unmade bed, reaching for his camera and pulling it out of the case for the first time since he got to the Citadel. He turns it on, and clicks into his saved photos to flick through them from the beginning.

The first few are of his old house, where he lived with his adoptive sister and her parents. Aranea had bought the camera for Prompto’s fifteenth birthday and had told him to take pictures of everything he loved so he’d never forget them. About four or five pictures in, Prompto finds the first picture he took of Aranea.

She’s sat on the bed in her bedroom, walls painted grey, with an old looking book in her lap. She isn’t smiling, but raising an eyebrow at Prompto behind the camera as he snaps the photo, looking bored yet mildly amused.

A few more pictures along and Prompto sees their Jaeger slowly coming together. There’s some of Aranea building, and some of the different parts of their Jaeger as they are created. There is one in there of a teenage Prompto in dungarees with dirt and oil smudged everywhere as he works, taken by Aranea when she stole his camera for a while.

Some of them feature a man stood in the background, usually with his back turned or his face obscured and never at the forefront of the photos. Prompto doesn’t give a second thought to him.

Prompto clicks through the memories for a while, until he reaches one of Prompto and Aranea grinning together, dressed in their drivesuits with their helmets tucked under their arms. The picture was taken by Aranea’s mother, Prompto remembers, who wasn’t happy about their Jaeger but was pleased by their happiness.

The photo is the last photo on his camera roll. It is of the day of Aranea and Prompto’s first unofficial mission, when they introduced Quicksilver to the world, a few weeks after Prompto’s sixteenth birthday. Three years after, last year, Aranea had been killed in a nasty Kaiju attack.

Prompto had gone through his camera roll the day after, deleting every photo of him and Aranea, and the ones with her friend at the focus, and their Jaeger along with awards they were given from people who didn’t know their identities for saving their lives. He had gotten to the photo of their first mission, and turned his camera off, barely touching it since.

‘Take pictures of the things you love,’ She had said, ‘That way, you’ll never forget them.’

Prompto starts when there’s a knock on his door, quickly shutting his camera off and putting it back in its case on the bedside table.

He pushes himself to his feet and shuffles to the door, pulling it open with a frown on his features, wondering if it was going to be Lunafreya at his door with another message.

But it quickly melts away when he sees Noctis Lucis Caelum there, swimming in a sweater that doesn’t look like it belonged to him.

“Hey,” Noctis greets casually, “I thought maybe you’d already gone to bed. I’m glad you’re still up, though.”

“Hi?” Prompto responds unsurely, leaning on the doorframe, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine. We were wondering if you’d like to join us for breakfast in the morning?”

Prompto blinks dumbly. ‘We’? ‘We’ who? Noctis and Gladiolus, or had they discussed this with their other co-pilot as well?

“Sure thing,” Prompto hears himself replying, “Sounds fun. Uh… can I ask why?”

Noctis shrugs, face blank, “You seem cool. My dad seems to have high hopes for you, so I figured it would be cool to get to know you.”

“I mean… sure. That would be nice.”

“Great!” Noctis smiles a little, genuinely, though it doesn’t last long, “I’ll guess we’ll see you in the morning, then. We’ll save you a breakfast tray.”

“Alright, thanks,” Prompto nods folding his arms across his chest comfortably, “See you tomorrow, then.”

Noctis tucks his hands into his pockets, nodding back at the blond before turning on his heel and walking away down the corridor.

Prompto watches him go, until he turns the corner, then closes the vault door with a clang! He shuffles into the bathroom to use the mirror to take his lenses out, then heads back to the bed, sitting on it and squinting at the digital clock on the bedside table next to his camera case. The green numbers read ‘9:27’ and Prompto realises he didn’t notice the time had gone by at all.

He holds his hands out in front of him slightly, eyes straying to the wristbands on his right arm, and quickly counts on his fingers, “Ten, eleven, twelve, one, two, three, four, five… thirty AM, what the fuck, that’s so early.” He mutters to himself, pulling an orange bottle of pills from the side of his camera case. He taps two into the palm of his hand, and swallows them dry. He shakes the bottle gently, feeling how light it is finally getting and sighs, falling backwards onto his hard mattress. He’d have to ask someone about medication tomorrow.

Legs still hanging off the side of the bed, he kicks his boots off and hears them hit the floor dully. Wiggling around on the bed a bit, Prompto pulls his camouflage pattered trousers off and drops them to the floor, followed by his hoodie and t-shirt. He crawls under the thin sheets of the bed, only in a pair of boxers, and rolls over to he’s facing the digital clock on the bedside table. He watches as the numbers slowly tick onto one another, until he finally falls asleep.

Chapter Text

Prompto wakes, once more, to incessant beeping. Opening his eyes to green numbers reading ‘5:30 AM’, he reaches out a hand and hits the top of the digital clock, and the beeping stops.

He sits up and runs a hand through messy blond hair, and feels something rough graze his ear. He pulls his hand back to look it, and notices the bandage wrapped around the palm of his hand.

Then everything comes back to him.

Meeting Gladiolus Amicitia in the gym, hurting his hand and needing first aid from the man, and then being invited to breakfast by Noctis Lucis Caelum.

Blue eyes dart back to the clock when he remembers breakfast, and Prompto rushes into his tiny bathroom to shower quickly, and change into something decent.

He leaves the room almost half an hour later in jeans and a jacket. Hoping he isn’t going to turn up late to his breakfast invite, Prompto hurries down the corridor and across the hanger into the canteen.

It’s as busy as it was yesterday, with people bustling all over the place, talking loudly. Prompto scans the crowd of tables quickly, eyes coming to rest on the same one he noticed the day before with three people sat around it. Noctis is waving a hand above his head to catch the blond’s attention, and gestures for him to come over when he finally makes eye contact.

Prompto heads over to the table, hands in his pockets, and smiles sheepishly when he gets there.

“Hey,” He greets casually, “Sorry, I uh…”

“No problem, we’ve barely started,” Noctis dismisses easily, patting the empty seat next to him with an untouched breakfast tray in front of it, “Come on, sit.”

Prompto slips into the tacky plastic seat with a thank you, barely daring to look up at the two people sat opposite them. Noctis seems to notice this, however, and is quick to introduce.

“You met Gladio yesterday,” The man points to the burly man sat opposite him, who raises a hand in greeting, “And this is Ignis. Ignis, this is Prompto, the new pilot we were telling you about.”

Prompto raises his gaze to the person directly opposite him. Ignis looks almost completely different in person than he does on TV. His hair is a light brown, almost falling into his eyes — green, mixed with yellows and browns hidden behind a pair of glasses. He’s wearing a plum button up shirt with the top few buttons left undone, and Prompto can see his collar bones and the top of his chest, so he forces his eyes away, face burning.

It takes everything in Prompto’s power not to squeak his “Hello!” because this man looks completely different from TV, and definitely more attractive.

Ignis pushes his glasses up his nose with a nod in greeting, and Prompto realises that where the media lies about his appearance, they did not lie about him being the quietest out of the Big Three.

“So, Prompto,” Gladiolus begins as the blond starts on his breakfast tray (it’s cereal today, with nowhere near enough milk), “How’s the hand healing?”

Prompto flexes his fingers, looking down at the scrapes on his hand that are still red, “Getting there. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Gladio waves a hand, “It’s fine. You don’t need to thank me for that.”

Noctis hums around a mouthful of mostly dry cereal, “Bet it hurt like a bitch, though. Things like that sting for ages. Hey, are you doing anything today? Carrying on your search for a co-pilot?”

“Well, Lunafreya hasn’t found me yet so at the moment I’m free,” Prompto shrugs, poking at the cereal in the chipped china bowl, “Although I wouldn’t be surprised if she appears in a minute to tell me I need to fight some more Kingsglaives.”

“How long have you been piloting for? I forgot to ask,” Noctis questions casually.

“Oh, I dunno. I started when I was sixteen, and I only finished last year, so… three years.”

“That’s not long at all,” Gladiolus comments.

“I said you looked too young to be an ex-pilot,” Noctis adds.

“Why did you stop?”

Prompto looks up at the last voice, to see Ignis studying him carefully, fingers halfway to recapping a bottle of water he’d opened. His accent was different to the others’, Prompto notices, his voice is calmer and smoother. Not as deep as Gladiolus’, but not as rough and brash either.

“I, uh… My sister was my co-pilot. She died in a Kaiju attack last year,” Prompto mutters, quite quickly losing his appetite and dropping his spoon back into the bowl with a soft chink!

“Shit, Prompto, I’m sorry,” Noctis murmurs, patting a hand on the blond’s shoulder comfortingly, “That’s…”

Prompto shrugs, but feels like it isn’t okay enough for him to do so, “It is what it is. Anyway, I’m here now, aren’t I? By the end of the week I’ll probably be who knows where, so I might as well make the most of it.”

“Who did you pilot?” Gladiolus inquires gruffly.

“Our Jaeger was called Quicksilver.”

“Wait, you’re Quicksilver’s pilot?” Ignis asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Huh?” Prompto blinks, and notices that the Big Three are all staring at him in shock, looking perplexed.

“Iggy and I fought a Kaiju once near Lestallum,” Noctis explains, “We were doing okay, but then this second Kaiju turned up and we couldn’t take both of them. This Jaeger came out of nowhere and took it down in minutes. It left pretty much as soon as the Kaiju fell, with no communication to us. The tag name was…”

“Quicksilver,” Ignis finishes softly, “We researched it afterwards. It was an unofficial Jaeger with no documented pilots. Completely anonymous.”

“Mom didn’t like us piloting,” Prompto admits, “She thought it was too dangerous. She made us promise to keep anonymous, so we did. I suppose she thought it was safer that way.”

“When Quicksilver vanished last year, we thought both the pilots had been killed,” Noctis says lowly, “The footage of your Jaeger going down was all over TV. It was a bad crash.”

“I don’t really remember it. I just… I woke up on the beach down at Galdin Quay the morning after. Our Jaeger was too destroyed to do anything with it and I couldn’t get into the wreckage to find my sister. I searched for hours, and then hitchhiked back home.”

“I remember that day,” Ignis confesses, fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt idly, “Three Kaijus attacked the Quay. Gladiolus and I were on duty, do you remember?”

Gladiolus nods, “Yeah, I do, actually. It was us, Armiger, and Quicksilver. I… I didn’t see you go down. I only saw the footage, afterwards. It was broadcasted.”

“I don’t remember going down,” Prompto croaks, then coughs to clear his throat, “I just… woke up.”

The four lapse into silence, not one of them eating anything else of their breakfasts. The hustle and bustle of the canteen doesn’t pause once, people flood in and out, getting ready to start their days.

Prompto inhales shakily, and wipes the palms of his hands on his jeans, “Well, thanks for inviting me for breakfast. I’ll, uh… see you around.” He pushes himself to his feet with a sad smile to the Big Three, “It was great meeting you all.”

None of them say anything as he walks away.

Prompto decides to visit Cindy at her Jaeger station in the Workshop and see if she needs any help with anything. He finds her working on what seemed to be a huge Jaeger arm, solding two pieces of metal together with a visor down.

He waits until she’s finished and has raised her visor before making himself known.

“Cindy, hey,” He greets casually, and sees Cindy turn to face him.

She smiles, “G’morning, Mr. Argentum, how can I help ya?”

“I was wondering if I could help you with anything,” Prompto shrugs, stepping forward, “If you needed anything, that is.”

“I guess they say that pilots can be mechanics,” She shrugs back, “Sure thing. I’ll welcome the help.”

Prompto runs some odd jobs for Cindy for a while, and at some point looks towards the other side of the Workshop to see Gladiolus and Ignis stood looking at him. As soon as Prompto looks up at them, they look away and carry on walking.

“Hey, Cindy?” He asks, the mechanic humming in response, “How much do you know about the Big Three?”

Cindy walks over to Prompto, wiping her hands on a cloth, to see Ignis and Gladio walk away, “Not much, t’ be honest. Ya wanna ask Lady Luna, she grew up with Noctis. Why? They caught ya interest?”

“I had breakfast with them this morning,” Prompto replies, not looking at Cindy, “Ignis is…”

“He’s a mystery,” Cindy nods solemnly, “No one knows where he’s from, y’know? He doesn’t talk ‘bout his past at all.”

“Are they all like that?”

“From what I’ve gathered, Gladiolus is the most open. Noctis and he have been friends forever, so if you want to know Noct, ya need to know Gladio.”

“And Ignis?”

Cindy raises an eyebrow, “You’re really hooked on him, ain’t ya?”

Prompto flushes, “N-not really. He’s just… so quiet, I guess. But doesn’t mind asking other people questions.”

Cindy narrows her blue eyes, “He said something to ya that ya didn’t like, I can see it in yer eyes. What’s bothering ya?”

“It’s nothing,” Prompto dismisses easily, turning back to the huge Jaeger arm in the work station, “He just reminded me of some things I didn’t really want to remember.”

“If you ever want to talk…”

“I don’t. But thanks.”

The pair carry on working into the afternoon, Cindy leaving at some point to bring them back sandwiches for lunch. She is half way through hers when she clicks her fingers and stands up from where she was sat on one of the work benches. Prompto frowns, but follows after her when she beckons him and begins to walk away.

She leads him down to the other end of the Workshop and behind a large plastic curtain shielding the end of the warehouse from view. Prompto follows her through, and his breath gets caught in his throat at what is behind the curtain.

A Jaeger, almost twice the size of Shiva, is lying across the floor in two separate parts. Prompto whistles lowly, taking in the dark paint job and all the wires leading from one thing to another.

“What is this?” Prompto asks, reaching a hand out to ghost along the metal.

Cindy wipes her hands on her shorts as she finishes her sandwich, “That, is the Crown. The first three pilot Jaeger ever.”

“You’re building it for the Big Three,” Prompto realises, “Three pilots… Wow. I mean, they can all Drift with each other so I guess it makes sense that they can Drift at the same time. Have they tried it?”

“They have, but not in the Jaeger,” Cindy replies, “We’ve a neural handshake set up for people to test their Drift Compatibility in. We used to do it straight with the Jaegers, but then someone destroyed half o’ the Wall when they chased the R.A.B.I.T, and we changed it.”

Prompto grimaces sympathetically. He’d chased the R.A.B.I.T when he’d first drifted with his sister, getting drawn into old and dangerous memories rather than letting them flow through him. He’d ended up singeing part of the garden.

“What kind of Kaiju means this is necessary?” Prompto questions, walking slowly around the Jaeger to try and find its head.

“A bloody big one.”

Prompto looks around at the new voice, to see Ignis standing next to the curtain with two styrofoam cups. By the looks of things, Cindy hadn’t noticed him enter either, and is quickly making herself busy by shifting wires with her feet.

“Something’s coming?” Prompto says, watching Ignis shrug his shoulders tiredly.

“I’m not sure, but Regis seems to be concerned about something,” Ignis answers, then raises one of the styrofoam cups, “I bought you coffee, since I knew Cindy doesn’t like it.”

“I didn’t think you guys had coffee here,” Prompto comments, gratefully taking the hot cup from the man’s hand, “Thanks.”

“You’re quite welcome,” Ignis nods with a faint smile, “I figured I was too late to invite you to lunch, so coffee was the next best thing. Would you like to take a walk with me, maybe?”

Prompto glances towards Cindy, who had since looked up to watch the interaction, “Oh, I, uh… I said I’d give Cindy a hand, and—”

“Go on,” Cindy waves a hand with a grin, “I’ll probably get more done without ya.”

“Hey!” Prompto retorts.

Cindy laughs, “Ya’ve been a great help. But go on with ya, I’ll be okay for the rest of the afternoon. Thanks, Prompto.”

“No problem,” Prompto smiles, “Thanks. See you later.”

With a wave, Prompto heads out of the curtain after Ignis, and the two start a slow walk back through the Workshop. The blond brings the hot cup of coffee to his lips, grateful for the taste of comfort that quickly warms him up.

“Apologies that it’s not the best,” Ignis says, “It’s not easy to get hold of anything ‘luxurious’ around here.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Prompto assures quickly, “Don’t worry about it.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Ignis agrees, drinking from his own styrofoam cup.

Prompto tucks one hand in his pocket, “So, uh… Why suddenly bring me coffee?”

Ignis pushes his glasses up his nose with the tips of his fingers, “Well, I felt as though I should apologise for this morning.”

“Apologise?” Prompto blinks, sounding confused, “What for?”

“I made you uncomfortable by asking too many questions. Gladiolus pointed out that I may have been too forward, especially since no one knows anything about me.”

“It doesn’t help that I’m like a picture book,” Prompto shrugs light-heartedly, “I can’t help but answer questions. It’s instinct, I guess.”

“I’m sorry, either way. It doesn’t make it right of me.”

“You bought me coffee. Consider yourself forgiven.”

Ignis smiles, drinking from his cup once more, “... Are you settling in okay?”

Prompto nods, “Kinda. I mean, it’s very busy but… I’m not on my own, so, I guess that’s an upside.” He shrugs, then gets an idea, “Hey, can I ask you a question? In return for everything you asked me this morning?”

“Of course,” Ignis replies, “Ask away.”

“How long have you guys been here for? I mean, the Citadel and whatever. It’s huge, it’s got to have been for here a while.”

“The Citadel has been around for a while. Regis has owned it for a long time, I’m not sure what it was before. When the Kaiju first attacked, Regis wanted to set up the first line of the defence. So he made plans for our Jaeger Program.”

“He set it up himself?”

Ignis hums positively, “Yes, he did. Noctis started training young, pretty much immediately after the first attack. Gladiolus and his younger sister joined him as well. Their father, Clarus, helps Regis run this place.”

“How did you meet them?”

He sighs deeply, “My… My uncle was a scientist who researched Kaiju. Regis hired him to work at the Citadel, and I came with him. He was... very passionate about his work, he’d always wanted to see a Kaiju in person, alive. After he was attacked, I turned to piloting.”

“Gods…” Prompto breathes, feeling numb, “I’m so sorry. Did he…?”

“Die?” Ignis raises an eyebrow, then shakes his head, “No. He’s in a hospital not too far out from the Citadel. He’s been in there for years. I don’t visit nearly as much as I probably should, but… I just can’t bring myself to go.”

“I’m so sorry, Ignis, that’s terrible,” Prompto frowns sympathetically, “I can’t imagine…”

“From what you told us about your sister this morning, I’m sure you can imagine.”

Prompto grimaces, “That’s different. My life didn’t change much afterwards.” His free hand goes to fiddle with the hem of his shirt as he finishes his coffee.

“You stopped piloting,” Ignis points out.

“I had to.”

They go quiet for a moment, and neither quite know how to carry on from there. They continue walking through the Workshop until they reach the hanger, and Prompto clears his throat.

“Which is your favourite Jaeger?” He inquires randomly.

Ignis blinks, “Out of the ones I pilot or…?”

“Any.”

“Oh, well…” Ignis frowns, thinking, “Maybe… Leviathan. I know she’s one of mine, but… She was my first Jaeger, too. What about you?”

“I’m always gonna prefer Quicksilver, since I built him, but… Well, Armiger was the first one I saw on TV.”

“Have you met his pilots yet?” Ignis asks.

“One of them,” Prompto replies, trying to remember the pilot’s name, “Uh… Nick?”

“Nyx,” Ignis corrects easily, “He trained with the Kingsglaives, as did Gladio, eventually.”

“Did all the Kingsglaives turn to piloting after the Kaiju started to attack?”

“Most of them. Of course, there was a choice, and some opted to work on the Wall instead.”

“What’s the difference between a Kingsglaive and a Crownsguard?” Prompto asks, “I mean, I heard about kids signing up to be a part of the Crownsguard when I was growing up, but now all I hear are Kingsglaives.”

“The Kingsglaives are more like an army,” Ignis explains, “Trained for war. The Crownsguard are trained in defence, and are more like body guards. A private army, if you will.”

Prompto nods slowly in realisation, “Oh! That makes so much sense. So, Gladio is a Kingsglaive?”

“He signed up and trained with the Crownsguard, but Clarus and Regis pulled some strings to transfer him to the Kingsglaive. The Crownsguard were never trained in piloting.”

Prompto hums a little, “Alright, those are all my questions. We’re even now.”

Ignis raises an eyebrow, “If you’re sure. I’m happy to answer any other questions you may have.”

“If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know,” Prompto smiles.

“Mr. Argentum,” A familiar voice begins, and said blond spots Lunafreya making her way towards them, “If you’re not busy, could you please come to the gym with me? Mr. Caelum has re-evaluated his Kingsglaive choices, and would like you to come and meet them.”

Prompto sighs heavily, dragging a hand down his face, “I mean… I’m not gonna say no, but ma’am, I’ve already said; you won’t be able to find me anyone.”

Lunafreya’s eyes harden, “Each time you say that, I’m more determined to find someone. Mr. Argentum, if you’ll come with me…?”

Prompto grits his teeth, “Fine.” Then he turns to Ignis, “Thanks for the coffee, I really appreciated it.”

“Hey, Prompto?” Ignis stops the blond man before he goes, “How about you join us for dinner tonight? Start again.”

Prompto smiles, “Yeah, okay. Sounds fun.”

Ignis smiles back and nods, before giving a small wave and walks away.

Prompto follows Lunafreya to the gym once more, positively ignoring the woman more from stubbornness than anything else. And once again, the gym is lined with Kingsglaives waiting for their orders. Regis Lucis Caelum is stood at the front of the gym, and he waves Prompto over when he arrives with Lunafreya.

“Mr. Argentum, how are you?” He greets casually.

“Yeah, fine,” Prompto replies shortly, “Listen, Mr. Caelum—”

“I thought over your fights from yesterday and found some people who will better suit your fighting style,” Regis interrupts, “I am certain that someone here is Drift Compatible with you.”

“What’s coming?” Prompto demands, and Regis looks taken aback, “Why are you so desperate to have another Jaeger on the field?”

“The Kaijus are getting stronger, Mr. Argentum,” Regis answers, “We need to be prepared.”

“I spoke to Cindy,” Prompto admits quietly, “She showed me The Crown. Ignis told me you think something is coming.”

Regis rolls his eyes, amused, “You sure are sociable.”

Prompto smiles sarcastically, “People tend to trust me when they probably shouldn’t.”

“Are you suggesting that we shouldn’t be trusting you, Mr. Argentum?”

“No,” Prompto disagrees, “I’m saying that people tend to tell me secrets. I find things out, Mr. Caelum. So if you don’t tell me why you’re so desperate to have me fight, chances are I’m gonna find out anyway.”

Regis looks around the crowded gym, then back to Prompto, “Alright then. We had a reading a few weeks ago; a Kaiju has been lurking near the Rift for a while now. The only problem is it’s about three times the size of the largest Kaiju we’ve seen so far. I asked Cindy and Cid to build The Crown, but I fear it won’t be completed in time. So I’m trying to get as many Jaegers out in the field as possible.”

“And you haven’t told anyone this?” Prompto frowns, “This is pretty important, sir.”

“You won’t tell a soul,” Regis shakes his head sternly, “Now, will you help us find you a co-pilot?”

Prompto doesn’t give a straight answer, but agrees to train with the new set of Kingsglaives. The fights last until dinner time, with almost no progress being made. Regis takes notes the entire time, and finally dismisses everyone at about 5:30pm.

Lunafreya tries to catch Prompto’s attention as he leaves, but he ignores her and heads back to his room to shower before making his way down to the canteen.

Ignis and Gladiolus are sat at the same table, sitting opposite each other and talking. Prompto slows as he sees them, his choices racing through his head; sit next to Ignis who bought him coffee and looks absolutely incredible that whenever he sees him, Prompto’s stomach does this little flip, or next to Gladiolus who bandaged his hand and won Sexiest Man on Eos two years in a row.

He decides to sit next to Gladio, figuring he’d be less likely to embarrass himself there then if he were next to Ignis. He was wrong; because sitting next to Gladio means being able to see Ignis, and having to avoid awkward eye contact, the entire time.

“Hey, Prompto, what’s up?” Gladio greets when the blond sits down next to him, pushing a tray of food towards him.

“Yeah, not much,” Prompto replies, taking the tray, “I’m completely exhausted though.”

“Any progress on the co-pilot hunt yet?” Ignis asks.

Prompto arches his brow, “Nope. Mr. Caelum is pretty determined though.”

“How long did it take for Regis to pair us up, do you remember, Gladio?” Ignis says to his friend.

Gladio breathes out deeply, “A few weeks, I think. He wanted me to Drift with Noct ‘cause we were close, then you and I started talking. So asked me to try out the pons with both of you. As soon as he realised I could Drift with you and Noct, he got you two to try it as well.”

“Whatcha talking about?”

The empty seat opposite Prompto is pulled out, and Noct drops himself heavily into it, tugging a tray of lukewarm food towards himself.

“Co-pilots,” Ignis answers simply, picking up his own bottle of water and uncapping it, “Prompto has just got back from the gym.”

“Oh yeah?” Noct’s eyes slide to the man opposite him, “Anything?”

“Nothing,” Prompto replies.

“I don’t get why they make people fight to see if they’re Drift Compatible,” Noct admits, “Why not just let them try the pons first?”

“I was there when your father explained this to you,” Ignis rolls his eyes.

“I don’t listen, Iggy, you should know this by now,” Noct huffs.

“Okay, so,” Gladiolus starts, “A Neural Handshake with a pons can only work if the people trust each other. A fight is the best way to kick start that relationship between strangers or acquaintances. You learn about the other person’s strength. You can’t jump into a pons with a complete stranger, because then you’ll end up pulling each other down the other’s R.A.B.I.T holes because you’re curious. It’s dangerous. Plus, you’re gonna fight together. So if you can’t match each other in a fight, your Jaeger won’t be as strong.”

“The Jaeger is only as strong as the weakest pilot,” Ignis summarises.

“Right,” Gladio agrees, “So if one is a lot weaker than the other, or their fighting styles are too different, then the Jaeger won’t work as well.”

“Well I don’t have a fighting style,” Prompto interjects, “I trained with my sister. We didn’t have a coach or anything, we don’t have a style.”

“That’s probably why you haven’t found someone yet,” Ignis frowns slightly, “All the Kingsglaives are trained in the same way. If you’re completely different, you wouldn’t match…”

“But you’re not Kingsglaive trained,” Noct points out, “You were a scientist. But you work well with me and Gladio.”

“That’s true,” Ignis muses, “But I’m close with the two of you. I understand your fighting styles.”

“I fight long distance, usually,” Prompto says, “My sister didn’t. Our fighting styles were different.”

“But you still matched,” Ignis wagers, “Because you understood each other.”

“So you’re saying Prompto needs to make friends?” Noct raises an eyebrow, “That’s not gonna be easy with the Kingsglaives.”

“That’s not gonna be easy with anyone,” Prompto shrugs, then clears his throat, “Oh, hey, quick question; is there, like, a medical doctor around here? I just remembered something.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. That, what’s-his-face,” Gladio replies unhelpfully, “Uh… Ugh, Galdor, what’s his first name?”

“Orion,” Ignis supplies lazily.

“Right! Orion Galdor, he treats pilots who come back injured,” Gladio explains, “He also supplies medicine and stuff too. Why? Are you feeling okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Prompto responds quickly, “Don’t worry about me. Just had a question since I might be here for a while.”

“The infirmary is on the other side of the hanger,” Noct says, “You won’t miss it. There are arrows on the floor.”

Prompto smiles, bemused, “Thanks, Noct. I never would’ve found it without your help.”

Noct snorts, “Yeah, well. You’re welcome.”

Prompto laughs for the first time in a while.

The four have dinner together without any awkwardness or bumps in conversation, and when they finally decide to leave the canteen, Prompto finds himself not actually wanting to leave. But still, he bids the Big Three goodnight and heads back to the hanger, following Noct’s vague directions and the huge yellow arrows on the glossy floor until he finds a double door with a sign next to it reading; ‘Infirmary’.

Deciding this is the place, Prompto knocks the door open and slips inside, finding the wing mercifully empty apart from one man checking cupboards and such.

The man looks up when Prompto walks in, unimpressed, and goes back to what he was doing.

“Uh, hi?” Prompto greets awkwardly, “Are you Orion Galdor?”

“Yes, why?” The man answers, barely looking towards the blond.

“I was hoping I could ask you a question about a prescription?” Prompto tries, heading further into the room nervously.

Orion finally turns away from the cupboard and looks Prompto up and down, “Can you show me your arm, please?”

Prompto flushes and his hand wraps around his right wrist, “W-what?”

“Your arm,” The doctor repeats impatiently, “Can you show me your arm, please?”

Feigning innocence, Prompto asks, “Why?”

Orion huffs, “I’m not an idiot. Immigrant Niffs are branded when they come over. So show me your arm, and prove you’re not a Niff.”

Prompto bites the inside of his cheek. He could just turn around and walk away, stop anything from getting out of hand. Then again, he really needs that prescription before his current one runs out, and he isn’t in Lucis illegally.

He holds out his left arm.

Orion’s brown eyes dart down to the inside of his wrist, then back up, “Your other arm.”

“Branded Niffs aren’t here illegally,” Prompto points out, retracting his arm, “The brand proves that.”

“The brands are also there so that people like me don’t have to serve people like them,” The doctor says spitefully, “Your arm, please.”

Prompto sniffs. Whatever he does now would show him to be a Niff; leave, or show him his arm.

And Prompto isn’t a coward.

He holds out his right arm.

Orion brushes Prompto’s wristbands out of the way, and clicks his tongue when the dark lines of ink come into view.

“That’s a shame,” He says, not sounding guilty at all, “Please leave.”

Prompto jerks his arm away, “Hey, c’mon, I—”

“If I had it my way, you wouldn’t be in the country at all, let alone here,” Orion sneers, “But I don’t have it my way. Luckily, I still have the right to turn you away. So leave, please.”

The blond man grits his teeth and glares at the doctor. But not wanting to make anything worse, he turns on his heel and leaves the infirmary.

He cuts back across the hanger, avoiding eye contact with everyone he passes, and makes a beeline back to his vault. He heaves the door open when he gets there and slips inside, slamming it shut behind him.

His camera case is on the bedside table where he left it. He sits himself at the top of the bed, legs curled up under himself, and flips the case open, taking the light orange bottle of pills out. He clicks the lid open and peers inside.

There are only two white pills left inside.

He probably should have bought another prescription earlier, but money was tight as a civilian as there weren’t many jobs. So Prompto left it, saying he would pick up another one when he needed it.

He’s starting to regret that now.

He swallows the last two pills dry and throws the bottle across the room forcefully, and hears it smack hard against the far wall and fall to the ground. He doesn’t go to pick it up.

Instead, Prompto lies down on his rock hard mattress without changing, and curses everything about his past until he falls asleep.

Chapter Text

He wakes up to the beeping again, and smacks the alarm off without opening his eyes.

Prompto forces himself up and into fresh clothes, not bothering to shower since he had one after training yesterday.

He steps over the abandoned pill bottle as he heads to the vault door and heaves it open, briefly wondering why on Eos this was his life before he spots the post-it note stuck to the front of the door.

With a frown, he plucks it and reads the rushed handwriting;

‘Meet us in the gym, we have a surprise. - N’

Guessing the ‘N’ stands for Noct, Prompto pockets the post-it and heads down to the gym rather than the canteen. The corridors are mostly empty since most people had already headed down for breakfast, so Prompto doesn’t encounter anyone on his way down to the gym.

He walks into the room, without knocking, and immediately sees Noct and Gladio huddled around some sort of machine.

“Good morning?” Prompto greets, watching the pair turn around.

Noctis grins, “Hey, good morning! You hungry? We took some cereal bars from the kitchen if you want anything.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Prompto answers slowly, “Uh… what’s happening here?”

“I’ll explain when Iggy gets back,” Noct waves Prompto’s question away casually, “Don’t linger by the door, come in!”

“Calm down, your highness,” Gladio says gruffly, “Poor Prompto still looks half asleep. Let the man wake up a bit first.”

Noct doesn’t reply, instead turning back to the machine.

Prompto walks further into the gym, furrowing his brow and observing the machine. Then he notices the headsets set on the floor.

“Are those…?”

“It’s our testing pons!” Noct bursts, unable to keep it to himself anymore, “We were talking last night before we headed to bed and I had the most awesome idea!”

“Noctis, please, it’s way too early,” Ignis’ soft voice comes from the doorway as the man walks in. He stops by Prompto’s side and offers the blond a styrofoam cup of coffee.

“Oh, thanks,” Prompto says gratefully, holding the warm cup close, “You’re making this a regular occurrence.”

Ignis smiles genuinely, “You seemed to enjoy it yesterday.”

“Okay, yadda yadda, Iggy, come on!” Noct whines, “This is my greatest idea yet!”

“Noct, I’m sorry, but you haven’t had many great ideas,” Gladio confesses, “But… Well, if this works, I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

“Awesome,” Noct breathes.

“Are…? Are you gonna explain your train of thought here or…?” Prompto asks.

“Oh, right,” Noctis grins again, “So, yesterday at dinner we were talking about co-pilots, right? And to have a strong Neural Handshake, you have to be friends with your co-pilot and trust them, yeah? So I thought, well, we’re friends. Kinda. And I’d like to think you trust us. So maybe… Maybe you’re Drift Compatible with us!”

Prompto blinks at the dark haired man, a million thoughts racing through his mind. His world sways in front of his eyes a little bit, so he shakes his head and drinks some of his coffee to calm himself down.

“You think I could Drift with you guys?” Prompto croaks.

“It would be revolutionary if this works,” Gladio admits, “And maybe… maybe Noct is right. Maybe you’re not matching with the Kingsglaives because you were trained differently. Well, so were we. Maybe you’re the Fourth.”

“The Fourth?” Prompto echoes, having not heard the term before.

Gladio stiffens and mumbles something, turning away.

Ignis sighs, “If you’re getting Prompto involved, he deserves to know.”

Gladiolus grumbles something else, followed by a wave of his hand.

“Regis had a theory,” Ignis says, “Jaeger Pilots come in pairs. But we came in a three. So Regis thought, maybe we were supposed to come in pairs too, but we were so similar that we mixed. He thought that maybe, there was a Fourth. You’ve heard of the Red String of Fate, yes?”

“Uh, yeah,” Prompto nods, “Two people tied together by a red string around their pinkies. Destined to be together, right?”

“Right,” Ignis agrees, “Regis theorised that Jaeger Pilots are the same. But our strings were so tangled together, that our pairs mixed.”

“I thought dad said Iris was the Fourth?” Noct queries.

“We’ve never Drifted with Iris before, dad doesn’t want her to pilot,” Gladio points out, then adds to Prompto, “Iris is my little sister.”

“Oh, right,” Prompto murmurs, struggling to keep up with it all, “So, you think I’m… the Fourth?”

“Maybe,” Noct shrugs.

“How will we know?”

“If we attempt a Neural Handshake using the pons and don’t get thrown out, I’m guessing,” Ignis wagers, “Neural Handshakes with more than two people can be dangerous. If we’re not matched, we get thrown out immediately before any real mental damage can be done. If not, we’ll probably get sucked down a R.A.B.I.T hole because of the overload of memories. But it won’t be for long.”

Prompto breathes in shakily, drinking from his coffee cup once more. He looks to Noct, “Do you really think this could work?”

“I hope so,” Noctis replies, “But I’m not a scientist.”

“Ignis?” Prompto asks, “Could it work?”

The Third of the Big Three tilts his head, “Potentially. I think it could, Prompto.”

Prompto downs the rest of his coffee in one go, the hot liquid burning his throat, “Fine. We won’t know unless we try, right?”

Noct smiles wide, and goes back to the machine. He flicks a couple of switches and it starts whirring.

“Okay!” He claps his hands together, “Everyone grab a headset! Let’s see if Prompto is the Fourth.”

Prompto sighs, and goes to sit cross-legged by the nearest headset. Ignis takes the one to his left, Gladio the one to his right and Noct sits opposite him.

With shaking hands, Prompto grasps the sides of the headset. It’s heavier than he remembers, and is shaped like a helmet with a translucent blue visor. He sets it on his head securely, before folding his hands in his lap.

“Okay, so I’m gonna press this button and that’ll start the Handshake,” Noctis says, “Everyone ready?”

With murmurs of agreement, Noct nods and punches the button.

Prompto loses his breath as he’s pulled back into the memories.

“Prompto!”

Prompto looks around wildly as parts of the city start falling down around him. He can hear someone calling his name; a young woman. He knows the voice. He does, he knows that voice.

“Aranea!” Prompto yells, yelping at a loud crash as a nearby building collapses in on itself.

Someone grabs his arm. He turns quickly, and finally sees her.

A woman a few inches taller than him with silver hair tied back into a high ponytail and deep green eyes. She’s holding his hand, and Prompto can feel it.

“We have to go!” She shouts over the loudness of the city, “There’s a train, we have to catch it!”

“Aranea…” Prompto breathes, and a loud roar echoes down the street.

“Come on!”

And then she’s gone, and Prompto feels like he’s suffocating. He sees flashes of other memories, of Noctis in a wheelchair with Lunafreya, of Gladiolus and a small girl. And then—

He’s at a train station. The signs are in Lucian. Aranea is by his side again, holding his hand. The inside of his wrist hurts, and the bandage tied around it is dyed red with his blood. A train pulls into the station and crowds of people flood off onto the platform.

“Mom!” Aranea is shouting, squeezing Prompto’s hand painfully tight, “Mom! Dad!”

“Mom!” Prompto finds himself yelling too, “Mom!”

An older couple come out of nowhere, and Aranea has let go of his hand. The three of them are hugging. No one comes for Prompto.

The train station melts away, and Prompto quickly sees a young Ignis and an older man at a funeral while it’s raining before it flashes away again. He’s gasping for breath, everything’s moving so fast, before it suddenly all slows down again.

“Holy shit!”

There’s a crash; and Prompto is jolted to the side harshly. The metal of the Jaeger is being crushed, he can taste the blood running down the side of his face and to his mouth. He can hear Aranea screaming beside him. He can smell the sea, can feel his heart thumping against his chest violently. But he can’t move, he can’t see, he can’t turn—

The Jaeger falls, and Prompto screams as he feels his stomach drop. He can’t move his leg, he can’t breathe. He’s reaching out.

“Aranea!” He gasps, “Nea! Nea, are you okay?!”

There’s no reply, but he can hear the crashing of the waves and the groaning of the other Jaegers fighting back. He can hear the Kaijus growling and screeching and roaring.

“Aranea!” He yells, but his voice isn’t loud, “Nea!”

He has to get out, he has to move, he can smell blood and oil, he’s hot, is it fire? that’s dangerous, they could die, he has to get out, they have to get out, he can’t breathe—

“Prompto!”

The blond gasps and jerks away. The headset comes off and clatters against the floor. He’s swallowing lungful after lungful of air desperately, his sight is blurred with tears, but he can breathe again.

“Oh, shit!”

“Is he okay?!”

“Hey, Prompto, look at me. Hey.”

Prompto blinks the tears from his eyes, some of them falling to stain his cheeks, and tries to find the voice talking to him.

He finds Ignis kneeling about a foot away from him with his hands palm up, looking concerned.

“Are you with me, Prompto?” He asks, voice calm.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m okay,” Prompto gasps, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve roughly, “I’m fine. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” Ignis questions.

“I’m sure,” Prompto is panting, he’s aware that he is and is trying to slow his breathing down shakily, “Yeah, I— I’m fine.”

“I’ll get some water,” Noct decides, and is dashing out of the gym a moment later.

“Wh… What happened?” Gladiolus asks timidly.

“It worked,” Ignis murmurs back, “It worked, we Drifted. You saw Prompto’s memories too, didn’t you?”

“I mean, yeah,” Gladio replies, “I have no idea what happened in them, but I saw them. That last one felt so real… too real.”

“That was the R.A.B.I.T hole — the others were just memories,” Ignis replies distractedly, “I’m guessing we were lucky we got out when we did.”

“That was the day my sister died,” Prompto says weakly, “Oh my god, I could feel her. She held my hand.”

“You’re shaking,” Ignis notes, “Keep breathing, you’re okay now. It was just a memory.”

Noct rushes back into the room then with a bottle of water, and thrusts it at Ignis who uncaps it and hands it to Prompto, who smiles thankfully and sips from it.

In the panic from the memory, the group had pushed away from the machine and are now sat at the back of gym. Prompto is leaning with his back against the far wall, Ignis kneeling opposite him and Gladiolus crouching not too far away. Noct lowers himself so he’s sitting on the floor too, and none of them speak for a few moments.

“So,” Noct breaks the silence, “What does this mean?”

“We found the Fourth,” Gladio sums up.

“Indeed, it seems so,” Ignis agrees,

“I, uh, I have some questions? About the memories?”

“Gladiolus, not now.”

“Sorry, Iggy.”

Prompto clears his throat, “Would you mind if I maybe got some air for a bit?”

“Of course,” Ignis nods, leaning back, “Will you be okay by yourself?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Prompto smiles, but it’s forced, and pushes himself to his feet, “I’ll see you later.”

Without waiting for any replies, Prompto leaves the gym on shaky legs and heads through the corridors. Realising he didn’t know how to get back outside, however, he heads down to the Workshop to meet Cindy, who immediately knows something is wrong.

“I’m okay, Cindy, honestly,” He assures, “I was just hoping if I could take a look at the Crown? I wanna see if I can help with anything.”

“Sure thing, Prompto,” Cindy nods, a frown etched onto her features in concern, “Paw-Paw and I ain’t workin’ on it today so it’s all yours.”

“Thanks, Cindy,” Prompto grimaces and slips away quickly before she could entice him back.

He ducks under the plastic sheets hiding The Crown from view and sits himself on the workbench. The Jaeger already looks more put together since the last time he was there; the arms and torso had been seared together finally.

He remembers Quicksilver, and how long it took him and Aranea to put it together in their backyard. He wraps his hand around his right wrist tightly, pressing the wristbands into his arm.

She had felt so alive in those memories. He felt her. He could hear her.

He can’t shake the memories from his head, and briefly wonders if he’ll see them again tonight.

Once he gathers this thoughts enough, he sorts through the blueprints next to him and matches them to the Jaeger. He spends most of the afternoon in there, looking at what had been done and what needed doing. Anything and everything just to distract himself.

“Prompto?”

The blond looks away from the Jaeger on the floor to the curtain as he sits himself back on the workbench next to the blueprints, and sees Ignis cautiously standing nearby.

“Oh, hey,” Prompto croaks.

“Are you okay?” Ignis asks, “You’ve been gone for hours.”

“Sorry,” Prompto shrugs sheepishly, “I’m a little out of it.”

“Would it be better to talk about it? Or to distract you from it?”

“I… I don’t know. I’ve never told anyone any of that before,” Prompto moves over on the workbench, shifting the blueprints out of the way, and Ignis pulls himself up beside him, “The only person who knew everything that happened was my sister.”

“Why don’t you try telling me, and if it doesn’t help, you don’t have to tell anyone else?” Ignis suggests, “I won’t tell the others. I promise.”

“I mean… I could try, I suppose,” Prompto hums, “But I’m sure you’ve already figured most of it out.”

“I have theories,” Ignis admits, “But they mean nothing if I’m wrong.”

Prompto takes a breath and closes his eyes, “I’m a Niff.”

“Okay.”

Prompto furrows his brow, and looks up, “‘Okay’?”

“Okay,” Ignis repeats, “So? You’re just another person effected by the Kaiju. Carry on?”

“I… okay,” Prompto averts his eyes, still rather confused as to why Ignis hadn’t freaked out, “I was in the city when the first Kaiju attacked. My sister and I caught one of the first trains out of the country.”

“Aranea?”

His eyes flicker, “Yeah. Aranea.” He clears his throat, “We were in Insomnia for three days before her parents arrived. We were down at the station every day waiting for our families. Eventually, we were spotted by authorities and branded. That evening, her parents got off the train.”

“Her parents?”

“You didn’t think we were really related, did you? We look, like, completely different.”

“Well… I wasn’t sure.”

“We were really close growing up. When my mom never got off the train, her parents took me in. I was fourteen. She was twenty-four. I miss Niflheim.”

“But you stayed here.”

“My mom died in the attack, I had nowhere to go back to in Niflheim,” Prompto says, “Besides, I was branded by then. I was legally allowed in Lucis. So I stayed here.”

“That last one — the R.A.B.I.T hole — I could feel you panicking. I could feel how scared you were.”

“That was the day in Galdin Quay when we went down. I don’t really remember much after that. I think I blacked out for a bit, I’m not sure,” Prompto huffs a laugh, “It’s funny; you’re supposed to tell your co-pilot about yourself before you Drift together, not after.”

Ignis smiles sadly, “We’re not normal co-pilots.”

“No, I suppose not,” Prompto agrees.

“Are you hungry? We could always go down and meet the others for early dinner?” Ignis suggests, “Or… not. If you’d rather not see them.”

“No, no, I don’t mind. They’re probably worried, right?” Prompto hops off the workbench and stretches, “Ignis? Why don’t you care that I’m Niff?”

“Because I’m not from Lucis either,” Ignis answers simply, “I’m from Altissia. My records maybe have been… conveniently changed.”

“Wait, seriously?” Prompto almost laughs. Ignis is in Lucis more illegally then he is, yet Prompto still gets more shit for being there because he’s blond. It’s hilarious, apart from the fact that it’s not.

Ignis smiles a little, “Maybe. Just don’t tell anyone, hm?”

“Of course.”

The pair duck out from behind the curtain and back into the workshop, making their way through the bustling warehouse until to reach Cindy’s station.

“Prompto, there you are!” Noct exclaims as they come nearer, smacking Gladio’s arm to get his attention, “You’ve been gone for ages, are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Prompto apologises sheepishly, “I guess I got distracted.”

“As long as you’re okay,” Gladiolus nods, and pats Prompto on the shoulder, “You hungry? We could get food?”

“Yeah, food sounds good,” Prompto agrees readily, only just realising how hungry he felt.

“Prompto,” Cindy pipes up, all four men turning to look at her even though her eyes were only on the blond, “I am always here if you wanna talk, y’know that, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Prompto smiles softly, “Thanks, Cindy.”

“No problem,” Cindy responds, “Now go and eat something, okay?”

Prompto lets himself be dragged away from the workshop and down to the canteen, where he’s nudged into a tacky plastic chair and is given a tray of what seems to be some sort of pie. But whatever it is, it’s hot for once.

“Sorry I disappeared like that,” Prompto says after a moment, “I completely lost track of time.”

“Well, now we know you’re safe, we can’t really complain,” Gladiolus shrugs, “So it’s all good.”

“Have you told Mr. Caelum yet?” Prompto asks.

“I haven’t seen my dad since last night,” Noct replies, mouth half full of pie, “I’ll let him know when I next see him. I can’t actually believe we found the Fourth.”

“I can’t actually believe I have co-pilots,” Prompto adds, then curses, “Oh, shit. I owe Cindy money now.”

“Why?” Gladio chuckles.

“I made her a bet. Fifty gil said I wasn’t Drift Compatible,” Prompto explains, yet shakes his head fondly, “Serves me right, I guess.”

“So, uh,” Noctis clears his throat, “Are we meeting again tomorrow morning to try again? We need to avoid that R.A.B.I.T Hole.”

“Only if Prompto is happy to,” Ignis says, glancing towards the blond sat opposite him.

Prompto looks up from his pie, “Well, Noct is right. We need to avoid that R.A.B.I.T Hole. Now I know which memory is the one that’s gonna drag me down, I know how to avoid it.”

“So, you’re gonna start piloting again?” Noct raises an eyebrow.

Prompto chews his food thoughtfully, a small smirk playing on his features, “Maybe. But we gotta be honest, right? So maybe a crash course in our pasts or something, so we don’t Chase the R.A.B.I.T?”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Gladio agrees gruffly, “Who wants to start?”

“I will,” Noct leans forward on his hands, “Okay. So. When I was like, twelve, I was in this really bad car accident. My mom died, and I was paralysed for almost three years. There was some miracle cure, I’m fine now, whatever. Uh, what else…? I grew up with Luna, she helped me recover. Her brother was killed. It was on TV so you might see that memory crop up. It isn’t a pretty one. Oh, and um,” Noctis looks around and lowers his voice, “Gladio and I are a thing. No one else knows apart from us three, and now you. So, yeah.”

Deciding not to ask questions, Prompto just nods and waits for someone else to talk.

“I don’t have any tragic childhood stories,” Gladio motions with his hand openly, “I have a little sister, Iris. She means a lot to me. I went through some hardcore training procedures as a teen, but it wasn’t tragic or anything. Yeah, my life has been pretty uneventful. Iggy?”

“My parents died when I was boy and I moved from Altissia to Insomnia with my uncle, who was hospitalised due to a Kaiju attack,” Ignis sums up easily, “After that, I turned to piloting.”

Prompto swallows his mouthful of pie, “I’m a Niff, as you probably deducted already from the train station, and the bandage, and the blond hair and stuff. My mom died when the first Kaiju attacked Niflheim and my sister and I caught a train to Lucis. My sister died last year, and that’s when I stopped piloting.”

There is a scraping sound as someone moves a chair, and Lunafreya sits herself at the head of their table, “Hello, boys, what’s happening?”

“Hey, Luna,” Noct greets happily, “Oh, you know, not much. Trained a bit, found the Fourth co-pilot, got food…”

Lunafreya blinks, “Excuse me?”

“Oh,” Noct laughs lightheadedly, “Yeah, we Drifted with Prompto and it worked. He’s the Fourth.”

Lunafreya slumps back in her seat, “Seriously? I was so determined to find your co-pilot myself, and you find three in almost three days. That’s not fair.”

Prompto shrugs and smiles, “Sorry, lady.”

Lunafreya sticks her bottom lip out for a moment, then perks up again, “Wait… The Crown.”

“What about it?” Gladiolus asks.

“Well, we were building it to have three Jaeger Pilots, right?” Lunafreya reminds, “And now that there’s four of you… why don’t we build it for four?”

Noct drops his fork with a clatter and gapes at the blonde, “Luna… you’re a genius.”

“Could it work?” Ignis asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I think so,” Lunafreya replies, “I mean, you all Drifted at the same time, right? So there is no reason why it wouldn’t work.”

“How much has Mr. Caelum told you?” Prompto demands out of nowhere.

Noct raises an eyebrow, perplexed, “I, uh… what?”

“How much do you actually know?” Prompto repeats, “I… I spoke to him, yesterday. He told me something he said no one else knew yet. It seemed important.”

“If you know, we’re all going to find out eventually,” Gladio points out.

“Gladio is right,” Ignis agrees, “As much as I don’t like trading secrets and gossip, he has a point. We will find out when we Drift successfully.”

Lunafreya just nods enthusiastically, despite not even being a pilot.

Prompto spares a look around the bustling canteen, making sure no one was really watching them, then leans in, “Okay. Mr. Caelum said there’d been a reading a few weeks ago. A Kaiju is near the Breach, or something. Three times as big as the biggest Kaiju so far. It hasn’t crossed through yet, but it will.”

Noct leans back in his seat, breathing out deeply, “That’s big.”

“Quite,” Ignis affirms in a small voice, “So what do we do now?”

Gladio claps Ignis on the back, “We need to get Prompto set up with a Jaeger, ASAP. I guess we need to talk to Noct’s dad, too.”

Noct sighs and pulls his phone out of his pocket, “I’ll text him, we can meet him at his office soon and discuss changing the plans for the Crown. I’m sure he’ll be fine with it though.”

Prompto swallows the lump in his throat that had blocked his airway when Noct mentioned his Jaeger, “I don’t… We’ve only tried Drifting once. And it didn’t go so well.”

“It went fine,” Gladio says at the same time Noctis says, “We should try again!”

“Not today,” Ignis tells Noct sternly, “We have to look after our mental states if we want this to work. We’ll start work tomorrow.”

Prompto is blissfully left alone for the next week. Regis had consented to the Crown being changed to a four pilot Jaeger almost instantly, and had been over the moon that Prompto had found not one – but three co-pilots.

Prompto spends his time during the rest of the week between training with his co-pilots and helping Cindy with the final touches to his first official Jaeger. It is almost enough to help him forget about the empty bottle of pills and the frantic nightmares that terrorise him pretty much every night.

The Jaeger is called Ifrit, one of the only Astrals to not yet have a Jaeger named after him, other than Ramuh. He stands at almost three-hundred feet, painted a rustic red and is designed with two bull-like horns on his head. He wields a sword in his right hand, and his left can be transformed into a flamethrower.

Prompto can’t help be feel proud, and a little choked up, when the Jaeger is finally stood up in the Workshop with the others.

Cindy wipes her hands on her shorts as she joins him, “Whaddya think?”

“It’s amazing,” Prompto tells her, “Thank you.”

“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it,” Cindy grins, then bumps his shoulder gently, “I think your sister would be proud of ya.”

Prompto swallows, trying to hide how he stiffens instantly, “Yeah. Me too.”

“An’ since I’m feeling generous,” Cindy throws an arm around the other blond’s shoulders, “I’ll let you keep that fifty gil ya owe me.”

Prompto laughs, “I’m not even sure I have fifty gil to give you.”

“Well it doesn’t matter anyway,” Cindy shrugs, “Now do me a favour and go an’ get some rest. You’ve been working non-stop, and you look dead on ya feet. Your job’s done here, go an’ get some sleep.”

Prompto nods slowly and peels away from Cindy, “Okay. Thanks, Cindy. You’re the best!”

“I know,” Cindy teases and watches as Prompto heads away from her.

Instead of going back his room, Prompto skulks into the mostly empty canteen for an energy bar to take with him to the gym. He eats it as he walks, tossing the wrapper in a nearby bin that he passes and jogs the rest of the way there.

It’s abandoned, as he expects, so he wastes no time grabbing some hand wraps from the public locker Gladio had showed him a while ago to wrap his hands before getting started at a punching bag.

Cindy is right. He can feel the edge of tiredness pushing behind his eyes, and every time he blinks, he wishes he could just keep them closed.

But he knows the images seared into the inside of his eyelids by heart, and he will not relive them again. Sure, the rise of technology probably sparked Prompto’s insomnia but events transpired with the Kaijus made it impossible for Prompto to sleep long enough without the aid of medication to put him into a deep enough sleep that he doesn’t dream at all.

He boxes with the punching bag for a while, working up enough of a sweat that’d force him to stay awake for longer when he got back to his room to shower. And a cold shower would probably wake him up even more.

“Prompto?”

Prompto stops, catching the bag and looking over his shoulder to the doorway.

Ignis has appeared just inside the gym, hands linked behind his back a little awkwardly.

“Hey, Ignis,” Prompto tries to keep his voice steady, going back to what he had been doing, “What’s up?”

“Gladio texted me,” Ignis comments, wandering further into the room, “He came by the gym not long ago only to find you in here.”

“So?” Prompto asks, not watching as Ignis makes his way around the room so that he’s behind the punching bag, catching it and pulling it away from the blond.

“So, you’ve been here every night since we tried the Neural Handshake for the first time,” He explains, “I don’t even know if you’re eating, Prompto. You need to give your body a break. It seems like every second you’re not spending training with us or helping Cindy, you’ve been in here.”

Prompto huffs and turns away, unwrapping his hands and tossing the wraps onto one of the low benches lining the gym, “It’s, y’know, a new environment. I’m not used to it yet. I’ve only been here for a week.”

“You faired just fine the first few days you were here,” Ignis points out, leaving the punching bag to follow Prompto across the room, “You’ve only gotten worse since the first Neural Handshake.”

Prompto blinks and turns, feeling something heavy settling on his chest, “Excuse me? Gotten worse?”

“I did not mean it like that,” Ignis sighs, rubbing his eyes under his glasses, “I just meant you’re not looking after yourself. You need to get some rest. It’s going to take a toll on all of us.”

“Between the four of us, there are four Jaegers, not including the Crown,” Prompto ticks off, “If I’m not up to scratch, I’m sure you three can figure it out.”

“Oh!” Ignis frowns, “So this is your latest attempt to get out of piloting? Running yourself into the ground so you aren’t stable enough to get into a Jaeger?”

Prompto scowls, the notion of embarrassing himself in front of Ignis Scientia being overridden by his need to force his emotions out, “I’m just saying, you three have been going for a long time, why the hell should me being here make any difference?”

“Regis saw something in you—”

“Oh, so now we’re back to the Regis argument?” Prompto interrupts, and a small voice in his head tells him he wouldn’t be snapping like this if he had actually gotten the sleep he needs, “Regis wants more pilots that he doesn’t have to spend money on to train. That’s the only reason why I’m here. He’s got plenty of Kingsglaives, so why bring me on board? Because he had the plans for a scrapheap Jaeger that only I know how to pilot.”

“I understand that you feel like an outsider,” Ignis starts, voice level, “I realise that Noct, Gladio, and I have been friends for a while. We’re trying our best to help you feel a part of our group, because you are. You’re our friend too, so please, tell one of us if—”

“It’s not you,” Prompto sighs and hangs his head, “It’s… it’s not you.”

“Will you tell me what it is?”

He grimaces, “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it.”

“You can take your time with these things,” Ignis tells him, “But whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can’t let it run you into the ground. If you’re going to keep this up, don’t come and train with us in the mornings.”

“But—!”

“I’m not saying you’re not allowed to join us,” He interjects, “But if you insist on working through this in the gym, you need to give one of them up. Training with us, or working out alone. One of them has to give.”

Prompto presses his lips together and nods.

“But for tonight, I think joining us for dinner will be adequate enough,” Ignis decides, heading back to the door, “Coming?”

Prompto hesitates for a second, cheeks burning, before leaving the gym with Ignis. He ends up staying with the others in the canteen until well past nine before Ignis shoos them off to bed for the night.

He heads back to his room alone, showers, and sits down on his bed. The mattress is still as rock hard as it was when he arrived.

Despite what Prompto wants to do (force himself to stay awake through yet another night, maybe catching an hour’s sleep if he’s lucky), he knows that Ignis is right. If he doesn’t stop himself soon, his body will end up shutting down anyway to make him get the rest he needs.

He flops back, lying on top of the thin sheet instead of under it, and every time he blinks he can feel his eyes closing for longer each time. Until he finally floats.