Archive of Our Own ^beta

Nobody would have picked them out of a lineup to be Rangers. Two boys from a lower middle class family, public school education with no remarkable accomplishments in either academia or athletics. From their SAT scores to their shoe sizes, they were mediocre in every way. On paper they were, in a word, average.

When the Becket brothers were chosen out of nearly 200 other candidates, Yancy wasn't surprised in the least. You didn't need a genius level IQ or a football scholarship to pilot a jaeger. All you needed was a good partner.

And Raleigh was the best.

---

They watched the first kaiju attack happen live, sitting on their living room floor. For once, their mother didn't scold them for being too close to the TV. Yancy glanced over his shoulder to look at their parents, perched on the very edge of the couch. Dad had an arm around Mom, his hand rubbing up and down her back in a slow, soothing motion. Mom was crying, her hand clapped over her mouth, and Yancy had never felt so helpless.

Beside him, Raleigh was rigid and tense, arms wrapped tight around his bony knees. At fifteen, he was still growing into his recently acquired height, shoulders too broad for his lean frame. Yancy tried to think of something to say, something reassuring or comforting, but what the hell could anyone say in a situation like this?

For a fleeting moment, he wished he wasn't the big brother, just this once.

Raleigh looked over at him, eyes overbright. Yancy's heart sank, the way it always did when Raleigh cried.

But Raleigh didn't cry. He said, fiercely, "We need to do something. We have to fight back."

---

Yancy was four years old when Raleigh was born. One of his earliest memories was also his best: Dad leading him up to Mom's bed where she lay, half-reclined, with his brother sleeping peacefully in her arms.

"Yancy, meet your new baby brother," Mom said. She sounded exhausted, and so, so happy.

"Hi, baby brother," Yancy whispered. He reached out a tentative hand, hovering. "Can I touch him?"

"Of course you can, sweetheart," Mom said. She patted the bed beside her. "Come sit by me, and if you're very, very careful, you can hold him."

Dad clapped Yancy on the shoulder, his big, broad hand warm and steadying. "Would you like that, kiddo?" he asked.

Yancy nodded slowly, suddenly felt shy like he got around strangers. Dad picked him up like he was light as a feather and placed him on the bed next to Mom. It took a few minutes of careful rearranging and lots of coaching, and then Yancy was actually doing it: he was holding his brother in his hands. The baby hadn't even stirred during the exchange, still sleeping, his little eyes squeezed shut almost determinedly.

"He's so small," Yancy said, awestruck.

"So were you," Dad said, smiling. "So was everyone."

Yancy tried to imagine Dad, who was tall as a tree and broad as a mountain, who hauled giant sandbags over his shoulder and built skyscrapers for a living, being this small. He couldn't, so he tried to see it the other way around, looked down at the tiny bundle in his arms and imagined him growing into someone big like Dad. He couldn't, and he laughed in wonder.

His baby brother's eyes flew open at the sound of Yancy's laugh, and looked up. They were a clear, light blue.

"Hi," Yancy said again.

They looked at each other in complete silence for a long, long time. It wasn't until the doctor and nurses came into the room and Yancy had to give him back to Mom that the baby started to cry.

---

Yancy didn't remember much from the time before Raleigh was born, but he knew he used to be cripplingly shy. Whether it's real memory or just from being told, he was never sure until his first Drift. He would go days without saying a word to anyone who wasn't Mom or Dad, even saw a child psychologist a handful of times at the recommendation of his preschool teacher. There wasn't any sinister cause for it; Yancy had a happy childhood, loved and was loved by his parents, felt safe and protected and cared for at home.

But outside the house, he felt small and alone.

Then one day, he was holding his baby brother, and suddenly Yancy felt big and strong.

He would never feel alone again.

---

Don't chase the rabbit. They tell you this on the very first day of training, tell you over and over again until the warning loses all effect. Right up to the moment they flip the final switch and initialize a neural handshake for the first time. Because nine times out of ten, a cadet will get lost in a memory during their first Drift.

Raleigh was confident it wouldn't happen to them.

"What the hell have we got to hide from each other?" he laughed, bumping shoulders with Yancy as they walked down the corridor.

Yancy nudged back, jostling Raleigh into the wall. "You know that's not why it happens," he said. "It's like a reflex. Your brain is used to fixating on details, so when you catch a glimpse of something you recognize, it's like you can't help--"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Raleigh drawled. "I was there for the lectures, too. All five hundred thousand of them."

"Five hundred thousand, huh?" Yancy said wryly. "Just a rough estimate?"

"Give or take a few hundred, yeah," Raleigh grinned back.

It wasn't their first time suiting up, not even their first time in a jaeger's cockpit. But it was their first Drift, and Yancy was nervous. He was trying not to show it, but it wasn't like it mattered; Raleigh was going to know just how he felt in a second -- he was going to know everything.

Yancy grit his teeth as the spinal clamp latched into place, knew without glancing over that Raleigh was looking at him to make sure he was okay. Their first dry run, Yancy's spinal clamp hadn't been properly fitted, and he hadn't complained, assuming it was always that uncomfortable for everyone. It wasn't until the simulation was over and they were changing back into their clothes that Raleigh noticed the bruising. Raleigh stormed out of the lockers and into the control room before Yancy could stop him, still half-dressed. The ensuing shouting match he got into with their instructor landed Raleigh a week's worth of clean up duty, and Yancy a completely unnecessary trip to the medical ward. But the technicians also made sure Yancy had properly fitted gear for the next simulation, and Raleigh had never been happier to wash dishes.

"Everything good, Yance?" Raleigh prompted.

"Fits like a glove," Yancy said breezily. "You just worry about yourself, kid."

"I am," Raleigh pointed out. "Whatever's bothering you is gonna bother me, in a second."

Yancy rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the concern."

"I got your back, bro."

Left hemisphere calibrated.

Yancy finally allowed himself to look to his left, saw Raleigh smiling at him. Not his usual cocky grin, but one of his rare smiles, soft and genuine. It made him look even younger than he already was, like he was ten years old and Yancy had just pointed out Saturn's rings on the telescope.

Yancy smiled back.

Right hemisphere calibrated.

"I know," he replied. "Me too."

Yancy turned to face forward again, closed his eyes and braced himself for the Drift. He felt calmer than all the other times they had done this in simulations.

Raleigh was right. They had nothing to hide from each other.

Initializing neural handshake in three...

Yancy felt a sudden surge of confidence. The Becket brothers had already exceeded everyone's expectations by being here. Together, they had beaten the odds, beaten every test and obstacle thrown their way. They were going to beat this, too, Yancy was sure of it.

Two...

They were going to win.

One.

end.