Momentum Chapter 1, a James Bond + Pacific Rim Crossover fanfic

TITLE: Momentum

Skyfall/Pacific Rim AU Fusion

AUTHOR: Macx

RATING: NC17

DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belongs to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)

FEEDBACK: Loved

He had lost his co-pilot when Vesper Lynd drowned in a Kaiju battle, saving him in return. It pitched James Bond into his own, personal hell. It takes another personal loss for him to agree to pilot his old Jaeger again.

But Bond needs a new co-pilot; one he chooses.

He gets Q.

Together they are deployed to Hong Kong, one of the last five Jaegers, now under the command of Stacker Pentecost, and the protection detail for Striker Eureka's mission to blow the Breach and seal it forever.

And maybe, just maybe, they will survive the apocalypse.

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I have no excuse for this. I can only blame two friends who said I should go and watch Pacific Rim, that it would be right up my alley. Damn, they were right!

I came out of the movie and this happened in my brain…

You should at least know the general premise of Pacific Rim, maybe have watched the movie. I follow events loosely.

This contains a divergence from some canon movie facts aka 'It's a bit of a fix-it'.

The Vancouver Shatterdome doesn't exist. Heck, why doesn't it? ;) There's a whole lot of coastline between Anchorage and LA!

It was a miserable day for December 24th. A day before Christmas, the clouds were hanging low, the drizzle more rain than snow.

James Bond didn't care.

He hadn't cared about a lot of things in the past year, including himself.

"The Wall can't stop them."

The cool words drew him out of his reverie and he looked away from the dreariness outside the window.

The Marshall was a short woman, her face lined with age, her short hair already white, peppered with a few remaining gray strands. She was shorter than any of the Rangers under her command, but her presence was formidable.

She had been a Jaeger pilot once, when the first Kaijus had been appeared out of the Pacific. She had successfully killed three of them, then had taken over the newly built Vancouver Shatterdome in 2018.

Today, together with Hong Kong, it was the last to remain operational, with only two functional Jaegers left. The rest had been dragged off to Oblivion Bay.

Bond looked at M, as the Marshall of the Shatterdome was usually known, with a neutral expression. His eyes were cold, almost glacial. The tanned face was lined with an exhaustion that hadn't left him since the death of his co-pilot. His graying stubble did nothing to help his appearance. If anything, it made him seem old, tired… worn.

He had started to come apart at the seams a long time ago and it was a process that was ongoing. The haunted looks of a man who had lost everything.

Maybe it was already too late.

M knew the tragedy of that day almost twelve months ago. She had been there every step of the way since. Bond had survived, had been pulled out of the water, but Vesper Lynd had drowned. Her body had been found two days later and she had been buried with honor.

The Jaeger had been repaired, but ever since, Bond hadn't been the same.

He had disappeared for three months, then come back, looking like he had slept in burned out building, amongst the rubble and death.

Three months and nothing had changed. Three months and he wasn't the same anymore. Drugs and sex and more drugs. Alcohol and pain medication.

Running himself into the ground to forget.

Tearing his mind apart.

M knew all about it.

She had let it happen, had kept an eye on him, but she had never interfered.

Maybe she should have.

James Bond had been first of his class at the Jaeger Academy. He had excelled in the simulations, had killed all Kaijus, had never lost his Jaeger. He had always been in prime physical condition and his mental stability had become the stuff of legend.

Drifting with Bond was and always had been a lesson in supreme control.

Vesper had been his chosen match. M had known there had been romantic feelings and she had approved. The closer co-pilots were, the better the neural handshake, the better the Drift. Brothers, sisters, siblings, couples, a parent with a child, it didn't matter. Only the Drift did. Only the compatibility.

Bond had been the best ranger out there.

Until the day Vesper had died.

M was only grateful that they hadn't been connected when it had happened. It would most likely have destroyed him.

"We always knew it wouldn't," the ranger finally said.

M's face was cool, distant. "We did. They didn't."

'They' being the United Nations who refused to fund the Jaeger program anymore. They clung to the Wall of Life construction.

"Pentecost's been given free reign over the remaining Jaeger. He wants to close the Breach."

"That was tried before. It failed."

"That was then. This is now."

Bond snorted. "Good luck to them."

"Commander Bond," she stopped him from rising. "Skyfall has been commissioned and updated. It's back on the active list."

The blue eyes grew even colder, the lines seemed to sink deeper into the haggard face. The memories were there, of blood and death.

"You will be her pilot."

"No."

"That wasn't a request. It's an order."

"I have no co-pilot."

M's thin, dark smile had the man freeze. "You will."

"No!"

"Like I said: it's not an option, it's not up for discussions. We will need every Jaeger, every ranger, we can find. You are the most experienced we still have! Trevelyan is in a coma, Silva and Onatopp are good, but they don't have your battle skills. Skyfall Prime and Kill Royale are the last to be operational. We lost all the others to the Kaiju. Only six are left world-wide, Bond. If we go down, we go down fighting!"

His hands clenched and unclenched, then he finally snarled softly. "Yes, Ma'am."

"I know the Drift with Moneypenny failed. We have more candidates. Some very promising ones."

Bond's face was impassive. M had been there when Eve Moneypenny had been deemed the best fit to the older, more experienced pilot. She had aced her classes, but then the Drift had gone out of sync while they were out in the water. It had been almost catastrophic.

She hadn't been in a Jaeger since.

Bond had disappeared off the face of the Earth, or so it had seemed.

"It won't work." Bond sounded like he was chewing on glass, his voice gritty, the edges serrated and sharp.

M refused to be intimidated. He had been her best pilot and he still was. "It will," she only said.

His laugh sounded off, painful, almost desperate. "I'm not pilot material any more. You can't fix what's broken in a Drift."

This time he rose with a finality that had M suppress a sigh. Bond had been and still was an elite pilot. If anyone could come back from losing half of him, it would be him.

The death of a Drift partner was catastrophic, especially when the team was in sync like Vesper and James had been. She knew of Raleigh Becket, the American co-pilot. His brother Yancy had been yanked out of the neural bridge by the Kaiju that had broken through the armor. That had to be the worst way to feel death.

Vesper hadn't been connected to Bond when she had died, but she might as well have been. He had been ready to tie the knot with her, M knew. They had been that close. It had been what had made James and Vesper so efficient, so incredibly solid and balanced. There had been quite a few teams consisting of couples, starting with the very first Jaeger ever to go up against a Kaiju, Brawler Yukon.

For one to die meant the other would either die, too, or they would continue with half of them missing.

A year would never be enough to heal the pain, to smooth the scars, to numb the emotions. A year with no psychological help was a year in Hell. Pilots were offered frequent psych evals, had free access to specialists whenever they needed them, but Bond hadn't accepted any kind of help.

Like he didn't accept the offer to fight back, to be what was in his blood: a hunter, a killer, a Jaeger pilot.

He had died, M thought to herself. He had lost half of himself and he had died.

She watched him leave, the tense set of his shoulder, the haggard expression, haunted by old, painful memories, and she mourned the loss of a good pilot.

The next Kaiju attack broke through the half-finished Wall around Vancouver City.

It killed six thousand people.

One of them was M.

Bond stared at the news report, watched the RAF fight back against the monster from the deep, a category four. Nothing of this size and weight and destructive force had ever attacked here before.

A category 4.

Kill Royale was sent to stop it.

They did.

And they lost their lives.

Bond had known Raoul Silva and Xenia Onatopp. Competent, cool-headed, cold-blooded, successful. Xenia had been a Russian fighter pilot and she had aced the Academy courses. She was a fierce fighter, vicious, tenacious, and Kill Royale had had five kills under her belt. Silva was… had been… an old dog like him. Experienced. With a killer instinct needed to finish off the enemy.

Now he was dead.

Xenia was dead.

M was dead.

He turned away from the screen and walked through the busy streets of Vancouver, mind blank. The wet snow coming down was ignored.

The decision of the United Nations still stood. The Pan Pacific Defense Corps wouldn't receive funds to continue the Jaeger program. The world had to rely on the Wall.

As M had told him when he had first met her after such a long time, the funding would stop in eight months. She had talked to Stacker Pentecost, the only other Marshall still in command of a Shatterdome. He had confirmed the information and he had told her that he wouldn't take this lying down.

He would attempt to close the Breach, even if it was the last thing he was doing.

M wouldn't be around to see his failure or success any more.

He needed a drink.

The woman who stepped into the gritty bar looked completely out of place. She was dressed in moderately official clothes, suit pants, suit jacket, blouse. She had thrown a coat over the ensemble. At least she was wearing sensible shoes, not high heels.

Bond watched her approach with a flicker of interest, and recognition.

"Miss Moneypenny," he greeted her.

"Commander Bond."

He snorted a humorless laugh. "Not anymore."

She placed a black box the size of a shoe box on the table. He regarded it with slight curiosity, nursing his beer.

"You weren't at M's funeral. Or the wake."

Another humorless laugh. "Not my place. Hate those things."

She carefully sat down. Bond couldn't fault her that. The bar wasn't exactly the cleanest, but the beer was cheap and good, and the people weren't the talkative kind. He had been here before, several times, especially after Vesper's death, and the owner had kept the flow of numbing liquor flowing.

Since then the place hadn't become any better or cleaner or lighter. The waitresses weren't big on wiping down tables, just served the snacks and drinks. The food wasn't something to look forward to or to actually come here. It was helpful in keeping the effect of the alcohol at bay, unless you wanted to get dead drunk very quickly.

Sometimes, James had felt just like that.

Right now, looking at the ranger trainee who had failed at syncing with him, had been completely out of alignment as the Drift had started, Bond felt like he needed a lot of liquor.

"What do you want?"

She pushed the box at him. "From M. She left it to you."

Bond raised his eyebrows, but he removed the lid and almost laughed at what was inside.

A bulldog. White with the British flag on its back.

It was an ugly little thing and he had commented on it in front of M before. She had kept it on her office desk, the one in downtown Vancouver. A Marshall usually stayed at the Shatterdome, but M still had had a place outside.

It was where she had died. The Kaiju had made it that far, destroying half of downtown, including the office.

"The whole office goes up in flames and that bloody thing survives."

Eve smiled dimly. "She wanted you to have that."

He looked at the figurine. "For whatever reason."

"Old dog?" she teased, though it sounded forced.

He had seen a lot in that brief Drift, her thoughts and memories and hopes and dreams. He had seen a damaged young woman who had lost a lot through the Kaiju war. Her fiancée and her brother had died in San Francisco when the first Kaiju, then labeled 'Trespasser'. It had damaged her.

A lot of ranger trainees were damaged, had trauma, came into the Academy and into training with the need for revenge. Moneypenny had been one of the best, resilient, hard to keep down, but there was a difference between the training and the reality of a Drift.

"We need you," she said, holding his eyes, refusing to back down.

He was silent, looking at the bulldog again.

Tenacious little beast. Tough. Hard to keep down, even harder to get it to stay down. A fighter.

M had been like that. The bulldog had been a perfect representation of her. She had given it to him and it told him a lot about the old ranger pilot. It gave him an insight into what M had thought of him.

Like that ugly little thing he had been hard to kill, hard to destroy. He had survived.

Sometimes he had hated her guts. Sometimes he had cursed her every step of the way. Quite often he had been bordering on insubordination. And a few times he had overstepped a boundary.

Moneypenny rose, wrapping her coat around her. Her expression was pain-filled but tougher than he remembered her from a year ago. Bond raised his glass when she told him good-bye and walked out the bar.

He emptied the beer, then shook his head when the waitress asked if he wanted another.

He put the lid back on the box and carried it with him out of the drinking joint.

The new year had come and gone.

He wasn't one to celebrate.

He hurt. All of him, right down to his bones. Physically he was back; mentally was another question.

The Shatterdome was a mass of bad memories, mixed with the few happier ones that made it through sometimes.

It didn't help that he was given a wide berth by most people.

On January 2nd, the Kaiju designated Mutavore broke through the Sydney Anti-Kaiju Wall. Echo Saber and Vulcan Specter were destroyed. Striker Eureka finally managed to take the massive category-4 down.

Still, the United Nations didn't change its song. They proclaimed that the Walls would protect humanity.

Vancouver would shut down within the next month and only Hong Kong would remain.

For eight more months.

It was laughable.

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Six hours after Mutavore, James Bond met the new Marshall. He had run into Gareth Mallory once before and he had been a bureaucrat back then. Some battle experience, but more of a paper pusher in Bond's eyes.

"We need you," Mallory only said, repeating what Moneypenny had already said; what the old M had told him.

Mallory looked tired and worn, just the way Bond felt. One arm was in a sling. He had been in Vancouver, with M, with Bill Tanner, and only the two men had made it out alive. Tanner hadn't so much as a scratch, Mallory had had shrapnel stuck in his arm.

They needed him; James Bond. He needed to fight again. He needed to kill these things, even if he died trying. They had taken everything from him, except his life, and Bond would be damned if he just rolled over and bared his throat.

The old M had been right.

"My choice," the ranger ground out. "I test them."

It got him a rough chuckle. "Pick whoever you want. The neural bridge is important. Nothing else."

No. Nothing else.

There was only desperation left.

tbc...