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The jacket is a warm weight on his shoulders.
He remembers when he got it the first time. When all the Rangers branded themselves. Dog tags around your neck, Jaeger jacket on your back. He and Yancy did their interviews in the jackets, back when being a Jaeger pilot was something glorious. When they were the rock stars.
He left the jacket in the shatterdome with the wreckage of Gipsy.
It’s sitting on his bed when he finally gets back from the infirmary. It’s been patched up but he can see the old rips and faded spots. It feels heavy in his hand but when he drapes it around his shoulders, the weight is a grounding comfort. His first thought isn’t who put it there or who got it patched up, it’s that it seems wrong for there to be only one. Much in the same way his small room suddenly seems to big.
It takes one call to Choi for Yancy’s jacket to be handed to him. He knows Yancy is gone, that his scent is long since faded, but it doesn’t stop him from lifting up the jacket and breathing in. The smell of metal and oil hits his nose and brings a smile to his lips. It’s somehow Yancy, Gipsy and Mako all tumbled together.
He adjusts his jacket over his shoulder and folds the other across his arm before going down the steps and crossing the hall to Mako’s room. It takes a little adjusting before he frees his good hand and raps on her door. It’s only been an hour since he’s seen her but for some reason it feels too long. It’s a side effect of the drift, he thinks. Or partially anyway. Still when the door opens and his eyes go down to her slight form, a smile breaks his face.
"Hey," he greets.
Her eyes remain on his but he knows she’s seen the jacket. Just as he knows she won’t press the issue. There’s no need. They’ve drifted together and any pilot knows the drift doesn’t end when the connection does. It lingers. Mako Mori knows him as well as he knows himself. So he drops the ceremony and pretense and holds out the jacket.
Her eyes move from him to it before she reaches out and takes the garment from him. Her hands are steady for anyone else, but for her he can see the slight tremble. It’s a two way street, the drift. And he knows the idea of giving interviews fills her with dread. The last time she was in front of a camera she was a child and the reporter asked about the red shoe she was carrying. She burst into tears, wailing for parents that had been murdered. There is nothing to be ashamed of, but he knows the feeling in the pit of her stomach is just that.
"Pilots usually wear them," he explains as she holds the jacket, “once you’ve been in a Jaeger, being in front of a couple of cameras is nothing."
Her fingers tighten in the fur of the jacket before she slides it on. The damn thing falls to her knees. In the baggy pants and huge jacket she looks like a child playing dress up. Their eyes meet and both smiles turn into laughs when she tries to reach up and stifle hers but finds the sleeves cover her hands.
"We might need to get it taken in," he says.
"Just a little," she agrees, “but for now," she rolls the sleeves up and looks at him, “thank you," she says.
"Don’t mention it," he tells her, “lets get something to eat."
She nods and steps out of her room, closing the door behind her and sliding the key into her jacket. He makes it to the bottom of the steps before he realizes she isn’t behind him. When he turns around she’s standing at the top of the steps. She’s holding something in her hand. His throat tightens as he walks to where she’s standing. In her hand is a knut, looped through a long chain. They both know what it is but at the same time it makes them both stop.
Gipsy is gone. Their escape pods are the only remnants of the Jaeger and those have been taken away. Raleigh knows getting attached to material things is a mistake. Even when they’re massive, twenty five story tall robots. But he can’t help miss the Jaeger. Gipsy was—he stops himself. He still can’t get past the was. One look at Mako and he knows she feels the same. The small knut is the piece of Gipsy—before the repairs and refittings. They both know Yancy swiped it and had it around his neck when he wasn’t in the Jaeger, so he could always carry a piece of him with it.
Mako holds out her hand, offering it to him. He picks up the chain, letting it dangle from his fingers. Carefully he slips it around her head, letting the knut fall on top of the tank she wears. Smiling he turns and continues towards the mess hall. Quickly she falls in step besides him.
"Like I said," he tells her, “when you’ve piloted a Jaeger, a few reporters are nothing."