NOTES: information on Raleigh's parents were taken from various sources, one of them the PacRim Wiki. I'm ignoring his sister, though. J
Also: I was completely convinced that Bruce and Trevin Gage weren't killed in action. For this 'verse I needed them alive, so there you have it: they survived :P
Series List:
1. Momentum
2. Breaking Me Softly
3. Fractal
4. Blood and Water
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He hadn't been here in over six years. Bordering on seven.
The first four months of that time he had spent in intensive care, hospitals, recovery and rehab centers. The next five he had been… running. Running from this place, from the war, from the memories.
Everything had stayed with him, no matter how far and how fast he had gone.
Especially the memories.
They would always be there, locked in a drawer, compartmentalized by now, but they couldn't be erased. There were the good and the bad, and then there was that one moment seared into his mind and into his skin.
Could have been me. It wasn't. It left me alive. It took only Yancy. It crippled me and with me, Gipsy.
The place had changed and still stayed so very much the same.
He knew every corner, every nook, every cranny.
He could walk the hallways in his sleep; had probably done that too often in the past.
He knew where he had lived; could find his way there with his eyes closed after getting spun around a dozen times, probably with an unhealthy amount of alcohol in his blood on top of that.
And that was where he stood.
Raleigh Becket let his eyes sweep over the small room, with its bunk beds, the tiny cubicle someone had dared dub a bathroom, and the barren, metal walls, and something inside of him stuttered and nearly broke.
There was nothing left of those men who had once been the occupants of these quarters. There wasn't a single scrap of paper on the walls or on the floor. The mattresses had been removed, the room stripped of everything but the bare metal skeleton of the bunk beds and the mirror bolted to the wall.
The rest of the furniture had been removed. Chairs, desk, cabinets, everything.
Nothing left.
Just memories.
He had been one of those men. He wasn't that man anymore. He wasn't the carefree daredevil who had looked forward to a fight. Who had egged his brother on to get going, to kick Kaiju ass.
The carefree part had grown into a man who had struggled with his fate, who had needed years to come to terms with what had happened. No psychologist could have helped him, which had been one reason for Raleigh to make a run for it, to resign and disappear. No one knew what had happened to him, how much of him had been torn to pieces and how many of those pieces weren't his at all. Yancy was there, an echo, a shadow, a ghost.
He would always be there.
Raleigh closed his eyes and turned, walking back out into the hallway. The pain wasn't so bad anymore. He had learned not to pick at the wounds, to let them heal and scar, to accept.
It was one reason why he had set foot into this place again. He wouldn't have been able to do so a year or two ago.
He wandered almost aimlessly through the empty, abandoned Shatterdome outside Anchorage.
Since the shut-down, no one had really come here. A few workers to break down machines and carry out whatever was still salvageable. Data files had been transferred, the rooms had been locked, and now it was an empty, cavernous... thing. A metal hulk sitting at the Alaskan coastline.
It was eerie.
There had been talk about selling the structure to a private buyer, but that hadn't happened and now it wouldn't. The Icebox, as it had been lovingly called by everyone stationed there, was a good memory for him. It had been his life for so long. He had been to the Jaeger Academy and then remained stationed here.
Right now, there weren't a lot of people around, aside from him. There were no voices, no hum of machinery aside from the distant generators keeping essential functions running, and only security personnel had remained after everything had been locked.
And they were currently busy sorting through storage.
Anchorage would get new life soon, but until then the old had to be cleaned out. For the past year there had been no notable activity and a lot had been simply dumped in this empty space.
Like the belongings of those MIA, KIA or otherwise no longer physically there to collect what was theirs.
Raleigh stopped inside the cavernous Jaeger bay. His eyes were drawn to the empty slot that had been Gipsy Danger's service bay. A smile crossed his lips, wistful, almost sad, but with a lot of fond memories attached.
He had spent good years here. Training, fighting, defending the Alaskan coastline, and the world, against the Kaijus.
Three years.
Three kills.
He and Yancy.
The painful twist at the thought of his brother was there, but it was no longer so sharp and almost devastating. Six years were a long time to come to terms with the loss and he knew a counsellor would tell him to step past the pain and embrace the future, not linger in the past, but no one knew what had really happened to Raleigh on the day Yancy had been yanked out of the Drift by Knifehead.
No one had – until Mako Mori had been in the Drift with him.
And later Chuck Hansen.
The tension bled out of him at the thought of the two closest people he had in his life now, who knew him better than anyone. Mako was like a sister to him, knew him so well, accepted him as he was.
She was the first Raleigh had let into his head again, had Drifted with. She had been and still was special.
Chuck… Chuck wasn't a brother; they were so much more and so much closer. Lovers, partners, co-pilots… He was the second one to get into his head, and stay there.
The whispers only he heard, the part of Yancy that had been left behind after the Pons had been torn apart, increased. He could hear Yancy sometimes, as if he was just behind him, on the right side, laughing softly, teasing him, calling him an idiot over something or other. He knew it wasn't real, that it was a sign of his brain damage.
Raleigh didn't care. It was all he had left; it was Yancy.
And maybe it was an unhealthy attachment, but at least he wasn't seeing things or talking to the imaginary brother.
It was a Ghost. Pilots had them. And he had had it for close to seven years.
When he had worked on The Wall it had been almost reassuring, a part of the past he had lost, the part where he had died, too. Raleigh had clung to the murmurs, the faint images behind closed eyes, the sensation of Yancy still with him, connected to him through the neural handshake. It had kept him going, had kept him alive.
Raleigh crossed the Jaeger bay to where several boxes had been shoved against the wall. They had been labeled 'Becket, R., Gipsy Danger, R-RBEC_122.21-B' and 'Becket, Y., Gipsy Danger, R-YBEC_122.20-B'.
It was all he and Yancy had left behind. Raleigh hadn't thought about his belongings, aside from what he had stuffed into the single bag he had packed, ever since leaving. He had lived with nothing but the bare essentials for five years. Everything else had been put in storage; he had signed for it and never looked back, never wanted to take a closer look.
He moved the boxes, one for him, two with Yancy's things, and opened his own.
There was not much to it. Some old books, pictures he hadn't taken down from the wall, some mementos from leaves, and his jacket.
Something inside him twisted sharply as he touched the worn leather, as his fingers ran over the writing on the back. Gipsy Danger. And her decals. His name on the front, together with his Kaiju kills.
His hands clenched into the fabric and he bit his lower lips.
Four.
They had killed four of the monsters together. They had been almost carefree, treating it like an adventure, running on adrenaline alone.
Raleigh felt a smile steal over his lips at the memory of their first live encounter. Yamarashi. Outside L.A. They had been deployed as back-up, but the trimary Jaeger hadn't been able to stand against 2500 tons of killing machine. In the end Gipsy Danger had taken down the category three by beheading it with a cargo crane wire.
Raleigh still remembered the terror he had felt. They hadn't seen the thing they were fighting as more than a digital representation inside the Conn-Pod. There were no live feed cameras. He knew what Kaijus looked like, even if they were all different in appearance, but it wasn't the same. TV images and dead bodies didn't inspire such terror as the live image you were grappling with would.
Yes, he had been terrified.
And he had been determined to kill the bastard, to show it that humanity would not go down without a fight.
It had been a close call for them both. Covered in Kaiju Blue, the corrosive blood of the gigantic creatures, they had barely made it back in time to the Los Angeles Shatterdome to be hosed down. The Conn-Pod had nearly been compromised.
That night, high on adrenaline, Yancy and he had celebrated with everyone else until they had crashed completely from too much alcohol.
Oh yeah, he still remembered that hangover from Hell.
And Yancy puking his guts out.
Raleigh's smile grew as he caressed the worn logo.
Their first kill.
And they had been heroes.
Yancy had grown more mature after that, had acted like the big brother, but to Raleigh it had been almost like a video game again. They had been damn good, had been the actual best at the time. He knew what his psych profile said and he had laughed about it back then.
'Raleigh Becket's improvisational and intuitive approach to combat makes him a wild card to the Kaiju and his co-pilot alike, as his unpredictable nature can be either a liability or a decisive advantage.'
Yes, he had been a wild card back then. He had been one of the most skilled pilots and his high Drift compatibility had made him so good.
Until Knifehead.
To the day Raleigh had a problem with looking at a poster or action figure or open a magazine and see the Kaijus that had come through the Breach when Knifehead was there.
His eyes strayed to Yancy's two boxes and he dreaded opening them.
But he had to. It was all he had left, he had inherited, and he would keep it. All of it, no matter what junk his older brother had collected over time.
So he did.
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It was how Chuck found him an hour later: sitting on the floor, three empty boxes around him, their contents spilled out on the floor. Papers, books, pens, photos, a curious collection of keys and buttons, but also some clothes, a pair of very worn combat boots, and assorted knick-knacks. There was even a stack of drawings, clearly made by kids. All of them showed a Jaeger that, with a lot of imagination, could be Gipsy Danger, and two supposedly human figures. Her pilots. The heroes of the hour.
Chuck had watched his partner-lover-boyfriend-co-pilot-allthatisnotwhatheisanyway for a while now. He wasn't blind to the changes to Raleigh's usually so easy-going, balanced nature just before they had left for Anchorage. Raleigh had suddenly been rather close-mouthed, almost moody, distant, and the lines appearing in his face spoke of the stress he was under.
Emotional stress and distress.
Going back to where he had never wanted to return to.
They had argued about it several times. Chuck had told him to let someone else sort through the stuff, send him whatever they found, or hire someone to clear out what needed to be cleared out.
The argument had been loud, intense, and finally Raleigh had stormed off in a cloud of anger and pain.
Chuck had waited almost half a day, to give him time to calm down, to give himself time to clear his head, then had sought out the blond.
"I have to do this," Raleigh had told him.
"Then we do it," had been Chuck's reply.
And that was it.
Now he looked at a man known to be one of the best Rangers, tough, unbreakable, resilient and a survivor, and all Chuck saw was the pain of memories, the shadows of the black hole inside his mind where Yancy had been at the time of his death.
Fuck, he thought. This was bad. And it might get worse.
Raleigh looked up when he approached, pale, lines in his face that hadn't been there in years, and Chuck felt the tension like it was a physical thing between them. Those blue eyes expressed remembered happiness and pain, and something he knew was what had remained from Yancy Becket.
"Family pictures?" he asked, voice a little rougher than usual, nodding at what Raleigh was holding.
"Kinda."
Chuck didn't move, waiting. When Raleigh didn't say anything he moved slowly closer, then settled next to his co-pilot and partner.
"Looks like… landscapes," he tried hesitantly.
Mountains, lakes, roads, some odd animal pictures. Birds and bears and a moose, if he was any judge of it. Then there were some old, dilapidated buildings, maybe an outdoor museum. All very normal. And they looked at least a decade old.
Raleigh chuckled. "Yeah. Good eye, Ranger."
He shot him a glare. Raleigh's smile was lighter, though hardly his normally so easy grin.
"Most are from a road trip. We had a week of leave and went camping."
Chuck snorted. "Of course you did."
"Dad had a motorhome and after he… left we kept it." Raleigh looked at the picture, thumb rubbing over the matte finish.
Chuck knew enough about Raleigh's family to add the rest. His mother was dead; lung cancer. She had passed away before the Becket boys had joined the PPDC. Their father had up and left his family after his wife had died. Raleigh hadn't heard anything of him until the day someone had called and told him that Richard Becket had died in some backwater town after a car accident.
"It was fun," Raleigh went on softly. "Yancy never caught that big fish he promised he would. He nearly ran over a moose, though."
Chuck blinked. "Really?"
"Really." Raleigh shuffled through the photos. "Not to mention the bear that crawled under our motorhome while we stayed in a provincial park. Sat there for hours waiting for the big guy to leave."
"You're shitting me!"
"Nope. Happens sometimes. You don't get out, just wait for him to get bored. And not fall asleep because he loves his new den so much."
Raleigh put the photos back into an envelope and put them into a small box. Chuck looked around the mess of personal items and memorabilia, coupled with a few PPDC documents, books that had probably come out of a used book store and were about mechanics, and some things that looked like souvenirs. A leather bracelet. A jade figurine. Oddly shaped rocks. A pencil with a hotel chain logo on it. A pair of hand-knit gloves. A baseball cap with 'Alaska' written on it.
Chuck nearly laughed at that.
And there were the pilot jackets. Raleigh's and Yancy's.
Chuck ran his fingers over the print on the worn leather. He still had his own, from Striker, with all the thirteen Kaiju heads painted on the leather to show off their kills. And Raleigh's had his own four.
The fifth, Knifehead, was missing.
Not to mention the kills Gipsy Danger had made throughout Operation Pitfall. Two more there. Not to mention the destruction wreaked in the Anteverse.
Sometimes Chuck wondered how much had been destroyed over there, how many more Kaijus killed. Not because he wanted to paint them on his jacket; because he wanted to know if they could recover from this. It was something Dr. Gottlieb was trying to determine, too. Would the Precursors be back? Had they won the war or just a fight?
Raleigh's lips twisted into a wry smile and Chuck drew himself out of his thoughts. "Didn't stay around to get another kill to my account. And Gipsy 2.0… I'm not sure I'll ever wear the jacket again. It's the past."
Yes, he knew that. He had seen it in the Drifts they had shared already. Raleigh had opened himself, had shown Chuck exactly what he was getting into on a personal level, and Chuck had been struck speechless, had been horrified, frightened and awed by it all. He knew Raleigh had left the hospital Against Medical Advice.
And then he had disappeared into anonymity.
To build The Wall.
Raleigh folded the jacket, his jacket, and put it with the box with his name on it.
"You gonna take it all back?"
It got him a shrug.
Chuck climbed to his feet and held out a hand. Raleigh took it and hoisted himself up. He appeared tired, worn. Looking into your past did that to a man, even one as strong and resilient as Raleigh Becket.
He drew his partner close, lips meeting in an almost chaste kiss. Raleigh closed his eyes, arms wrapped around Chuck's waist, just holding on. Like Chuck was his lifeline.
Maybe he was.
"Let's get this to the helicopter."
The blond nodded and they carried the three boxes to the Sikorsky. Raleigh turned and looked at the Shatterdome.
"It'll be operational in a few more weeks," Chuck remarked.
"Yeah. Basic functions. Surveillance and training."
Chuck nodded. He kept up to date on such matters. Not just because his father was the Marshall of the Hong Kong Shatterdome. Chuck was always interested in everything concerning Jaegers and the reopening of the Shatterdomes around the Pacific Rim.
"Chrome Brutus is already on her way to L.A. for repairs and updates. She will probably be transferred in six months. Last I saw she's looking really good."
Herc had told him a few things about the PPDC plans and Chuck had listened without interruption. Then he had read the files his dad had pushed his way. It had taken him almost a week to go through it all and he had been moderately impressed.
"They're considering Trevin Gage as a Marshall for Anchorage," Herc had told him back then. "And resurrecting Romeo Blue. She would be stationed in Anchorage."
Huh. He knew Trevin, and his twin brother Bruce, and the man was good Marshall material.
Brawler Yukon was next in line to be moved to Anchorage. She was in a moderately good condition, but her reconfiguration would need more time. Romeo and Chrome had pilot teams already assigned to them. With Brawler Anchorage would have its three designated Jaegers.
"If that's your not so subtle way of asking if I want to transfer, the answer is no," Raleigh said with a fine smile, drawing him out of his thoughts.
Chuck tried not to look relieved, but he was probably very bad at hiding it. Raleigh smirked and leaned closer.
"Anchorage is my past. If you want to remain in Hong Kong, I'll stay there, too. If you like Sydney, I won't stay behind."
"Not going to Sydney."
"Maybe Herc will."
He shook his head with a fine smile. "Nope. That's our past. I like Hong Kong. So does dad."
Raleigh kissed him, a gentle brush of lips against lips, then drew back. "And you call me a sap?"
"I'm calling you a lot of things, has-been," Chuck grumbled. He elbowed him. "Let's go before you really do get sappy."
"What about Panama City?" Raleigh laughed.
"What about it?"
"Warm climate?"
"I don't give a flying shit about the climate, Raleigh, okay? I like Hong Kong. I'm staying in Hong Kong."
"They're looking for experienced pilots."
"Not going."
"Substantial raise included."
He glared at the blond. "What about 'not leaving Hong Kong' don't you understand?"
Raleigh's smile softened. "I do understand."
"Then shut up about transferring anywhere else."
The only reason why he would leave would be his father going to another Shatterdome, but that wasn't even a thought he had entertained so far.
Raleigh pulled him into a kiss that involved enough tongue that Chuck was losing a few brain cells.
"Shutting up," Raleigh murmured.
"Good."
The rest was drowned in another kiss.
Brain cells were highly overrated anyway.
tbc...
