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He doesn’t belong here.
That’s the clearest thought in his head as the chopper makes it’s way between the airport and the shatterdome. He doesn’t belong here. Okay mechanics with GED’s belong on the Wall, where people are expendable and the only thing that matters is how much manual labor you can get done in a day without dying. They don’t belong in the chopper across from men in perfectly tailored suits. He wishes he was on his bike. It’s the first time he’s ever been in a helicopter and despite loving the feeling of flying on his bike, actually being up in the air is making him want to throw up.
When the chopper lands it’s pride that keeps his feet under him as he staggers on to the helipad. It’s a good thing because despite the people milling around there is one whose specifically there for them. They’re covered underneath an umbrella he doesn’t think he could get his arms around and hands an identical one to Stacker Pentecost who thanks them in another language. The umbrella tips back and he’s faced with a woman. She isn’t beautiful, not to him at least. She’s too quiet, too short, too slender, her features are too sharp and the blue streaks in her hair speaks of a rebellion Jax is willing to bet she doesn’t have the balls to pull off.
There’s also the look of disgust on her face, it’s hard to find someone attractive when they’re looking at you like you’re something that’s been scraped off their shoe.
She thinks she’s hiding it but she’s easy to read for a moment when their eyes meet. He may not understand whatever flavor of asian she’s speaking with Pentecost but he knows when he’s being insulted. He watches Pentecost give her a sharp look and is oddly surprised when she glares right back, saying something else to him before she switches to english.
"Welcome to the Hong Kong Shatterdome, Mr. Teller," she tells him in accented english.
He nods acknowledgement but between the nausea and the desire to smack that look off her face, he’s not opening his mouth. He’s supposed to behave. God help him he’s intrigued by this offer, by this chance and he imagines whatever he’s going to say will get him a one way ticket back to the wall. She doesn’t introduce herself but stalks towards the hanger. He follows, catching her easily because she may be a little ball of fury but she’s tiny and he’s matched paces with bigger men.
The smell of metal hits his nose. Metal and sparks and even if the jaegers could crush a pile of every bike he’s seen in his lifetime, the smell at least is familiar. He breathes it in and lets it wash over him, comforting him in a way that only something familiar can. The woman leads him across the hanger as he tries to take it all in and follow her without tripping on his feet. She’s faster than he initially gave her credit for. He nearly falls in to her when she stops on a platform in front of a Jaeger.
It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
She’s got plating like a tank, but all the grace of something that moves with a lot more speed. She’s not brand new either, he can pick out the wielded cracks in her armor and she hasn’t seen new paint in a while. She’s still beautiful though. Her head’s attached though he remembers them being separate but maybe they’re running some tests or something. Sparks are raining down around her, but they don’t compare to the bright glow of her center.
"That’s her heart, right?" he says finding his voice.
"Nuclear vortex turbine," she says and for some reason her voice is steadier with the jargon, "she runs an Blue Spark 4.2 operating system. Her core’s an Arc-9 reactor."
He catches some of it but not all of it. Doesn’t matter, he knows beauty and power when he sees it. He looks over at the woman. If there’s something Jax knows it’s how a woman looks when she’s in love. A swear falls from his lips and earns him a sharp glare from his companion.
"You’re the pilot, aren’t you. Mori," he says motioning at her.
"Mako Mori," she corrects.
He swears again. When Pentecost came to him and told him he was needed to copilot with someone named Mori he assumed it was a guy. Pretty much all the pilots he sees on tv are guys, except the Russian girl who could pass for one. Piloting’s supposed to be difficult, it’s supposed to require strength. The trench coat she’s wearing hides her form but Mako looks like she could break if he pushed her too hard. How the hell is she supposed to pilot a Jaeger. How is he supposed to pilot it with her? He realizes he’s staring. More than that he realizes she’s returning his look without any sort of embarrassment.
"If you’ll follow me I’ll show you to your room," she says turning on her heel without another word.
He shoves his hands in to his pockets because he’s got a feeling that smoking isn’t allowed. Places like this don’t allow smoking. She takes him to a room that’s bare except for a small cot made with precision and a metal desk with a stool in front of it. There’s a bathroom and a closet. Jax can see clothes hanging in it and looks at her. Mako meets his gaze but where she was easy to read before, now she’s a blank slate.
"We will meet at 0800 in the Kwoon to test drift compatibility," she says, "breakfast begins at 0600, I suggest you eat early so you have time to digest."
He lets out a harsh laugh because not only is this girl telling him when to eat, she’s expecting him to fight her. He’s fought girls before, but he’s fought them to hurt them. With the efficiency of completing an unpleasant task. He’s never fought a girl as an equal. He doubts Mako Mori’s going to be the one to change that. He figures he’ll rough her up and be on his way. He’ll get a hot meal out of it at least. He realizes she’s waiting for a reply and gives a jerky nod.
"Anything else?"
"No. Goodnight Mr. Teller," she says and turns. He watches her walk across the hallway and unlock the door directly across from his, stepping inside and closing it, turning the deadbolt.
He wakes up in time to get to breakfast by six fifteen. It’s cafeteria style eating but there are stacks of burritos. He grabs two and goes to the platform Mako showed him, eating them in the glow of the Jaeger. He lingers there until it’s almost time go. Then he follows another pilot named Herc Hansen to the Kwoon just in time to see Mako flip some random dude over her shoulder and drop him to the mats, his foot up with a stick.
"2-5," Pentecost announces.
Mako helps the guy up and bows to Pentecost before focusing on him. Jax runs a hand over his face and looks at the woman and then at Pentecost who jerks his head in a silent order. Jax has never really been one to follow orders, but he tugs off his shoes and steps on to the mats. He leaves his sweater on and Mako glares at him, setting her staff down with respect in every movement. He looks over at Pentecost who ignores him, forcing him to turn to Mako.
"This is a dialogue," she says, her voice clipped, "not a fight. It’s about compatibility."
"Thought that was why I was here," he says, shifting his weight as Mako stands completely still, "you ready?"
"Are you?" she challenges back.
His feet pause as the change comes over her. She truly thinks she can kick his ass. Without her coat he can see the sharp lines of muscle on her, but still she’s a slender girl. He figures he’ll throw a few jabs to get started. Except he jabs and she blocks instantly. He goes faster and she matches his speed. He barely manages to block the strike she returns, one that stops a breath from his nose. He lunges forward and she dives, her ankle hooking around his and then he’s sailing through the air.
He lands on the mats and rolls to his feet instantly, coming right back at her. His previous thoughts of her being a woman and light are pretty much gone. It’s still hard to attack her though, he doesn’t think he’s ever fought someone shorter than him. He lands a hit and evens the score. When she sweeps him again he grabs her and flips it, landing it so she’s on her back and he’s got her leg up. Her foot smacks the ground, dispersing the energy before it locks around his neck.
"Enough!" Pentecost booms out and they both freeze, "I’ve seen enough," he repeats and Jax knows fury when he hears it.
No, he knows that particular brand of fury. Pentecost isn’t looking at him like a pissed off superior, he’s looking at him like a furious father. Jax has absolutely no doubt in his mind that Pentecost wants to leap forward and murder him with his bare hands, no Jaeger required. Suddenly it’s becoming clear why Pentecost was willing to seek him out and pull him from the wall for her.
There’s not much a dad wouldn’t do for their kid.
Mako lets him up and they face Pentecost.
"He’s my copilot," Mako says through gritted teeth. Pentecost glares at him, then at her, finally at both of them and leaves without another word. Like a good daughter, Mako follows suit.
In the shower Jax wonders if this is supposed to feel better. The cold water streams across his skin and he decides it isn’t. Not that he expects it to. He doesn’t deserve things to feel better for him. Not after everything that’s happened. He doesn’t blame Mako for not being thrilled about the notion of being paired up with him. He ignores the mirror like he always does when the luxury of one is afforded to him. Instead he pulls on sweatpants and steps in to the main room to look for a shirt.
The draft is a reminder he forgot to shut the door.
He looks over to see the door is open partially, not a lot but enough to afford Mako a view. She’s standing in her own door and the shock on her face is impossible to hide. This this time he can’t blame her. It’s a pretty horrifying thing to see after all. He opens his mouth, though he isn’t sure what’s going to come out. But Mako slams the door shut before he can remember how to form words.
He grabs the first clothing he can find and yanks it on, covering the marks of shame on his skin. There’s a knock on his door and he pulls it open to face Pentecost. The Marshall looks at him silently and Jax realizes he’s waiting for an invitation. He lets him inside. Pentecost looks over the bare room as Jax waits before giving in and speaking first.
"Look I appreciate what you’re trying to do here sir, but this isn’t a good idea."
"No, Mr. Teller, it is not," He says, he doesn’t even get to finish his relief before Pentecost continues, "unfortunately the time for good ideas is past," he looks at him, "I told you that you fit a profile for a pilot. You understand revenge. You understand hate in a way very few people can," Pentecost continues, "that kind of hate consumes people, very few can survive it."
"And your girl over there is one of the few?" He questions.
"We’ll see when she gets it," Pentecost says.
Jax doesn’t think he survived it most days. His sons barely remember his name, SAMCRO is ashes pounded in to the pavement and his skin is a myriad of scars and black bars where his ink used to be. He does understand revenge though. he’s an okay mechanic, he was a good outlaw but a horrible president, a worse father and husband. He was great at revenge though. He knows that high better than he knows himself.
"You suit up at 1300 hours," he says.
Jax doesn’t reply and watches through the peep hole until Pentecost leaves Mako’s room. He goes over there and knocks on the door. She lets him in wordlessly, her eyes suspiciously wet as she stands there. He forces himself to look at her when he pulls his shirt off and stands in front of her wearing nothing but the shame inked on to his skin. Her eyes widen fractionally before her expression smooths out and her eyes meet his.
For the untold time she surprises him and when he holds out his hand she puts hers in it. Her hand is small and calloused, there’s strength in the digits as she lets him guide them to his chest and press to the black bar that curves across his pectoral.
"That one says Abel," he says, dragging her fingers across it before settling them on the raised scar that cuts down the center of his chest, "that’s from when the doctors had to cut me open after I got shot four times in the chest," he moves them down to the lines on his side, "that was from a knife fight," he continues, mapping her hand across his body, "this one says Thomas," he says closing her fingers on his forearm. Her fingers tighten on the flesh before he turns around, still holding her hand as he guides her fingers across the ink on his back, "those are my club colors," he says.
"I know," Mako replies.
"No," he says, "whatever files you have on me don’t tell you shit," he says turning back around, "they don’t tell you about this," he says motioning to his chest.
"And you are here because Pentecost has promised to help you find your sons," Mako says.
"My boys were—are everything to me," he says, "but it isn’t worth you stepping in my head."
Mako looks at him for a moment before she pulls up the hem of her pants. His brow draws together as he looks down before he picks out the seam where the top of the line prosthetic meets her flesh. She’s good with it, meaning she’s had it for a while. But he’s not an idiot, he knows what happens to girls injured in the Kaiju attacks, those who survive but probably won’t be adopted.
He knows most of Mako’s scars are inside her. The girls, the drugs, the weapons—it’s no wonder Pentecost has to find someone like him to step in to the girls head. He throws his shirt back on and looks down at her. Mako’s gaze is defiant on his, there’s no shame in her and he wonders what it’s taken to get to that point. It won’t be just the Kaiju she’s facing, it’ll be one of the monsters whose dealt with the underworld she’s been a part of.
It’s a fucking bad idea.
Like a hugely fucking bad idea. But he’s got no choice and from the way she’s staring him down, she doesn’t think she does either. Jax knows a losing battle when he sees one. Revenge is the only thing he truly understands anyway. Not how to live, hell he isn’t even sure he knows how to die. But he knows how to stave off the vicious pit in your soul. He knows how to patch up the hole, just not what to do afterwards.
"It’s a bad idea," he says because he feels like someone should.
"Yes," she says.
Then she smiles.
She’s one if those people who smiles more with her eyes than her lips, but those curve up to. It’s like someone’s flipped a switch and he realizes that she’s actually quite beautiful. The blue in her hair is bright and frames her face. When he offers his hand again its only to grip hers in something that’s more an apology than anything else. She accepts that too.
Hours later he looks at her as they stick him in the tightest garment he’s ever worn. He’S actually glad when they drill the armor over him because it gives him something more than just a unitard. Mako where’s it easily, with something he knows all too well. She can almost taste the revenge now and its intoxicating. Like standing with a syringe over the prone form of the man who took everything from you.
The Conn pod hisses open like a promise.
"Aren’t you going to say anything?" He asks looking over at her.
"No point," she says with a smile that lands just south of being vicious, "five minutes and you’ll be inside my head."
He can’t really argue with that.
they step in go the pod. She takes the left side and he steps to the right. the rigs clamp along their spines as the AI boots up. He feels familiar with the helmet on his head, even if the face shield is a bit strange. He focuses instead on the clamps that lock his feet in to place and the arms that tighten on his. He sees Mako going through the same process. Their eyes lock as they wait for the tech’s command.
"We are calibrated and ready. Initiating neural handshake in 3, 2, 1…"