Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside. Nor do I own Pacific Rim.

Authors Note #1: This was supposed to be a couple sentences for some operation levity fun on tumblr but, as you can see, it kinda got out of hand. I figured that since it decided to grow Kaiju wings and fly I'd better clean it up and post it.

Warnings: This is a crossover between The Walking Dead and Pacific Rim. Caryl style. *Contains: references to depression, possible sexual/physical abuse/assault and allusions domestic violence.

Cherokee Jericho

The day Spinejackal made landfall and ripped its way through downtown Melbourne changed everything. Hope stuttered. Jaegers started falling faster than the factories could build them. And the pilot programs, already stretched to their limits, found themselves with only a handful of candidates to choose from.

The popularity that the PPDC had enjoyed since opening its doors in 2014 had finally petered out. People were afraid. And when people were afraid, they dug their heels in. Of course, it didn't help that there were also rolling blackouts, food shortages - the works. The PPDC needed a new strategy if they wanted to survive and in their defense, it didn't take them long to find one.

They struck a deal with the governments of the world in an effort to bring in new recruits. The countries that supported the Jaeger program started funneling money into social services, offering cash incentives to anyone who signed up. Prisoners were offered a deal, a reduction on their sentences based on their performance in the program or an outright pardon if they graduated. After a slow start, they eventually bit the bullet and added medical benefits, food stamps, and familial assistance as well.

That did it.

At first everyone thought they were the class of 2024's obligatory drop outs. Carol shied away from the fighting mats while Daryl was too vicious; trouncing every opponent they paired him with. No one seemed to be even close to compatible and every time one of their instructors had the brilliant idea of pairing them off together in an effort to save everyone some misery, Daryl was nowhere to be seen. He refused, point blank, to get in the ring with her and in return Carol acted like her practise stick was more liable to bite her than the other way around. She had a habit of staying on the defense rather than the offence while Daryl cleaned the floor with everyone save for her.

From the very beginning, they held the record for chasing the most rabbits in the simulator. From what the techs could tell, it was simply a by-product of a shitty marriage and a messy divorce on her end, and an equally as shitty upbringing on his. They attended every class, every practice, but neither of them seemed to have much interest in finding their co-pilot - their partner. The circumstances that had brought them here were too complicated for anything else.

Daryl had been in and out of the clink since he'd learned how to card swipe on the streets of Atlanta at the age of thirteen. And Carol's husband had drained their savings before running off to New York with some red-head half his age. One way or another, they had to be here. It'd never been a choice. It wasn't about patriotism or getting a shot at the fame and glory. It was about survival, plain and simple. It was about a warm place to sleep, food in their bellies, and the slim hope of a future to look forward to when the universe was done with jerking their chains.

They were damaged goods. And everyone knew it. Especially them.

But then, one day, two of the other recruits, two men who were getting desperate to find their drift partners, cornered Carol on the mats. Frightened, she tried to bow out, to signal to the instructor, but they didn't give her a chance. They advanced, practice sticks whirling through the air as she backed away, doe-eyes pleading.

And suddenly, Daryl was just there - fighting with her - beside her - back to back before either of them really understood what was happening.

It wasn't until later, until after the two idiots had limped away, all angry eyes and sullen steps, that their instructor realized what had been there all along. Drift compatibility. It was the strongest he'd seen outside of a family bond in all his years in the program. Only they were different - unique - because it wasn't on the fighting mats that they excelled, no, they were too subtle for that. But rather, an unspoken understanding. It was a bond that was more mental, more emotional and visceral than anything that could be acted out in the flesh.

It was a joining of souls. A twinned sense of self made stronger by a chance meeting and a tumble on the training mats. It was perfect code. Tranquil and easy.

They graduated the program with honors. And, by some stroke of luck, were bestowed the privilege of naming their first Jaeger. They christened it together in unspoken agreement, thoughts hazing out, lazy and warm across the drift before they raised their voices and named her aloud in front of a screaming crowd. Separate but never apart.

Code name: Cherokee Jericho. For a mother's tears and the wall that had finally come crashing down between them.

A/N #1: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – This story is now complete.