So this is a Pacific Rim/Snowbarry crossover. Obviously I own neither and this first piece is mostly background and them becoming pilots.
it's like watered down [whiskey] & [coke]
Barry Allen and Caitlin Snow meet at 17, both bright young recruits for the science division of the Jaeger program. They become fast friends, bonding over a shared love of science and a secret desire to do more to protect the world. Each morning, long before they're supposed to be up and in classes with the other science recruits, they wake and meet and train—lift weights and spare and do cardio. They laugh at how much they simultaneously hate it and yet enjoy the progress they make and the way they can complain about it together before they sneak back into their bunks to get up with the rest of their group.
It takes barely four months for Marshal Harrison Wells to notice their routine and ask them about it. They're transferred into the Jaeger Academy the next day.
They spend what feels like a lifetime in training: learning about the kaiju and the jaegers, undergoing rigorous physical training and mental simulations and learning to fight in the Kwoon. It had been difficult in the science division. The Jaeger Academy is so much harder but so much more fulfilling. Months pass by in a strange equilibrium—sometimes a blur and sometimes a sluggish trundle forward, but they buckle down with the rest of the recruits and wait for the day when Marshal Wells decides it's time to examine partners for their neural handshake strength.
He makes the announcement on a Tuesday in the mess hall. Sitting across the table from one another, with Cisco on Barry's left eagerly shoveling down his pasta, they trade nervous grins. They're both excited about the opportunity to become Rangers, both terrified that now, at the end of it, they're going to wash out but somewhere deep below the surface, they're both also nervous that they won't be partnered together or that one will make it and the other won't. They've gone through every one of their paces together, the idea of being separated is an alien one.
It's Barry, of course, who addresses it on the walk to the Kwoon—always more forthright with his feelings then Caitlin ever manages to be (well, that's not fair, her body language is always honest; it's her words that hide the truth, but he's gotten pretty good at sorting through to the truth). "Hey," he pauses, ignoring the other candidates trailing in little groups through the hallways, all as nervous as they are for their own reasons. There's a tentative smile on Barry's face as he pulls her toward the wall with one steady hand against her wrist. Caitlin responds easily, thoughtlessly, the way they always do with one another, and it casts a warm glow of reassurance through his abdomen. How can they not be perfect partners, when they already work so well together, without even a shared neural connection to guide them?
Once they're tucked away, Caitlin tips her head to catch his gaze and the puzzled dent between her brows causes Barry to break into a chuckle that scares away the last bits of his anxiety. "What?"
The fingers that have lingered on her wrist slide down to tangle with her own and give a quick, reassuring squeeze. "We're going to be fine," he tells her quietly, aware of the way the hallways echo and everyone already talks too much about them. "Even if we don't end up paired together, even if we don't end up Rangers, we started this together and we're always going to be a team. You, me and Cisco," he adds, because it's true. Cisco is already well positioned to take over operations in the command mezzanine; one way or another they'll remain friends and find a way to save the world together.
Her confusion melts into a small but sincere smile and he watches her eyes dip down in a firm nod. "Of course we will," and the conviction he hears in her voice is overwhelming. As if he ever should have doubted Caitlin Snow. When she looks back up at him, one edge of her mouth is turned up into a playful little smile—the same tiny grin that has goaded him into every extra training session from those very first ones, back when they were still in training for the Kaiju Science division. "But I bet we'd make a damn good Ranger team."
This time he laughs loudly, unconcerned with the way the sound echoes off the metal walls of the hallway leading down to the Kwoon. His favorite thing about his friendship with Caitlin is that as well as he's come to know her, she still catches him off guard sometimes. He's not sure if that's a good quality in the drift or not, but it's one of his favorite qualities about her anyway. "Let's go find out."
Their hands are still tangled together, so Barry tugs her back down the hallway and he doesn't let go until they're standing amongst the throng of candidates, waiting for Wells to start calling out partners for the drift compatibility trials.
They're far from the first pair that Marshal Wells puts together. They spend hours watching him cycle through different combinations of candidates. Some fights are very poorly matched, some seem impressively even, but Wells never smiles or gives any indication that he's found what he wants. There are two jaegers combat ready and waiting for two pairs of rangers and he's clearly looking at every angle, analyzing with those sharp, bespectacled blue eyes that give nothing away. They all know he wants the very best and he's willing to take the time to find it.
Some candidates only go up against only one competitor—some go against half a dozen. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it, but they all know better then to assume that's true—Wells is looking for something, learning something from each pairing. Finally, with only five candidates still completely untested against anyone, he calls out "Allen, Snow" in the same even, emotionless tone as he's called all the rest—as if he's given no more thought to his two last minute training additions than any of the others (he probably hasn't).
Already standing shoulder to shoulder, Barry and Caitlin trade a swift look and a nearly imperceptible nod before they stride forward in tandem to take the hanbōs waiting on the edge of the mats. As with every pair before them, they are afforded half a minute to get the feel for their weapons and shake loose any muscles that have tightened during their wait. And then Marshal Wells clears his throat with a gravelly rumble, his only indication that he is ready for them to begin.
From across the mats, they lock eyes and pace forward, each holding their hanbōs in a ready position, bare feet dragging light as feathers, all their attention directed at one another.
Barry makes the first move, knowing that Caitlin never will. She prefers to analyze where he acts on instinct—she watches for every tip of his carriage and clench of his muscles and reacts and reforms her plan from there. Barry counters her plans and weaves between them. He takes the first point, but her next sweep ties them barely a heartbeat later. Grinning absently, eyes still locked, they back away and circle before diving in close once again. This time, feeling confident, she makes the first strike. He blocks her easily, ready for the move and then tries to get his hanbō behind her knees, prepared to sweep her feet out from under her. Caitlin goes down but rolls off the mat immediately, easily, and uppercuts his stroke, stopping just shy of his jawline. He gives her three seconds to draw back before a two handed spin ends with a faint brush against the base of her skull. Two to two.
They trade back and forth, never more than a point apart, dancing around and over and behind and between each other—a well read rhythm of heavy breaths and the sharp, ringing crack of wood against wood broken only by the sounds of their voices when they call out to adjust the score. Silence surrounds them as the other candidates, tested and untested, watch the match—they are by far the most even pairing all afternoon. But truthfully, they don't notice. Everything else has faded from their notice, everything but the way the other moves and how they respond in turn. They move in this rhythm thoughtlessly until Barry can feel his adrenaline ebbing and flowing in response to her strikes and Caitlin is planning her next move solely based on the way he shifts his weight through his hips.
Caitlin calls out 4 to 4 in the heartbeat before Marshal Wells calls off the drill with a crisp nod and the ghost of a smile. "Crimson Frost," he adds a second later, to the collective confusion of everyone gathered.
"Sir?" Their voices mingle in the question, neither sure who asked first.
"You'll pilot Crimson Frost, pending a final neural handshake drill." Barry and Caitlin don't grin at each other, not in front of Marshal Wells and the other candidates, but they know that mentally, they're beaming. "You're both dismissed until the morning. Report to the Shatterdome at 0800 hours ready to suit up."
Solemn, but boiling below the surface, Barry and Caitlin nod (in tandem, again) and leave the rest of the candidates to vie for the remaining jaeger. They keep their composure all the way back to the candidate bunkers, which are deserted, before throwing themselves into a hug. "Told you," Barry teases, bursting into a laugh when he feels Caitlin chuckling against his chest. They're going to be Rangers—together.
It's scarcely a month later, standing next to each other, teeming with the same nervous excitement that an impending drift always incurs, grinning and working to match their breathing. Barry looks over, suited up and ready for the simulation, and is suddenly struck by the quiet, serious smile on Caitlin's face, the way her dark eyes are already shifting out of focus as she prepares to meld her thoughts with his. It's the same face, the same thoughtful expression, he's seen thousands of times before—through nearly two years of training, drift compatibility drills and months of drift and combat simulations—except suddenly she looks like someone he's never quite seen before. His eyes linger on the curve of her lips, the slope of her cheekbones, the line of her gaze, his mind going blank in a way that is not at all in preparation for their final training exercise.
A voice breaks through his fog, Marshall Wells calling out to them, telling them to begin to engage the neural handshake. Barry startles momentarily from his line of distraction as he initiates the now familiar process, blinking away his surprise and redirecting his mental focus.
It's in those first moments when they're sinking into the drift, opening their minds and melding their memories that he irrefutably realizes he's in love with her. The fact that that connection means she knows it too would be problematic, except they've done this often enough to know better than to chase the RABIT, so the knowledge just flickers into the swirling tide of experiences that connect them, flowing to the background of the here and now while they're training. (They've never been on an actual mission yet—they've never fought a Kaiju in their actual Jaeger (Crimson Frost), but they're getting there, one last trial and they're out in the field.)
Later, when the simulation is over, they emerge flawlessly from their shared connection, their thoughts once again their own, but that ever present thread connecting them nonetheless. Barry pulls off his helmet, lets out a breath of contentment (it's their best training exercise to date) and turns to grin at Caitlin like he always does.
Her expression strikes him again, just as unexpected and acute as in the moments before they'd dove into one another's minds. Except this time it's not a smile of concentration or focus—it's a knowing smile: warm and affection, a little playful. Their eyes meet and, in sync as always, he mirrors her grin.
So this was two of my Pacific Rim au stories that I put together, because they both explained how things started out in different pieces. Hopefully it didn't lose any clarity in the melding. I have a few other stand alones that fit into the 'verse at the current that I'll be adding now and then. Any suggestions, ideas and/or clarifications are gladly appreciated!
The title, of this installment and the series, comes from Tim McGraw's Diamond Rings and Old Barstools, which talks about things that do and don't mix well together, which I thought was fitting for a pair of jaeger pilots.
Take Care & Best Wishes,
AOR