"Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it."
-Michel de Montaigne
His breathing came in bursts, echoing in his skull like the report of bullets in the thick, stagnant air around him. The scents of heat and gunpowder mixed along with that of blood and the faint stench of humanity that always hung around these sorts of places. Another man writhed on the ground in front of him, blood dyeing the sand red as it flowed freely from the wound in his leg. A killing shot had gone wild, hitting the upper thigh instead of the chest. No, that would have been too easy-fate didn't like him that much. It was too close this way; far too close. At least before he'd had some distance, didn't have to look this man in the face or see the fear of death behind the rage of being shot down by the enemy.
The world seemed to jolt, but it was really only him as the wounded man started shouting in a language that didn't make any sense. But tone, it seemed, was a universal thing; this man was trying to goad him into finishing the mission. Into killing him.
He shouldn't be here. He should be back at base on cleaning duty or stripping his weapon for the thousandth time. It shouldn't be in his hand, hot and heavy in all the wrong ways. Shouldn't be pointed at the man's temple. His finger shouldn't be shifting to a better position on the trigger.
He shouldn't be firing, the man's brains shouldn't be spattering on the ground and hissing as body-warm blood hit sun-warm sand. However the rush of power and adrenaline that surges through him at the sight of it should, and does, make him vomit on the ground several feet away. And he shouldn't be turning back to look at the corpse, the burn of stomach acid acrid on his tongue.
He shouldn't do, but does, all of these things.
He felt the world close up around him as the image of it burned itself into his eyelids.
"Rhodey!"
A kind of snapping, breaking sensation, and the sudden rush of sound was too much, threatened to swallow him up if he didn't find something to grab onto. The hum of the Jaeger around him instead of desert insects, the AI's calm voice repeating his failure over and over again replaced angry gibberish. The space inside his helmet (should it be covering his face? yes, it was a helmet of a drive suite, not an army uniform) was too close, lungs grabbing for air that he couldn't find-
"Alright there, buddy, take a few breaths. You sure know how to cause a racket, don't you?" Tony's voice, cutting sharply through the storm of sound and the cold sweat he could feel building under his drive suit.
"Neural bridge out of alignment. Neural bridge out of alignment."
"Iron Jaeger, come in. You guys alright? Rhodes is still way off-"
"Gee, thanks Phil, I never would've guessed."
Rhodey would've laughed at Tony's usual biting sarcasm if the crash back down to Earth from the drift hadn't left his brain totally scrambled. But he was back, not on the verge of hyperventilation or a panic attack or anything else that might add further embarrassment to to an already humiliating situation. It was Jaeger Piloting 101 material, a mistake a pilot half his age should be making. He'd chased the RABIT on a routine test drift, for Christ sakes. Not in battle, not on the first try-
"Hey, quit that self deprecating shit and talk to me. You alright?"
Technically Tony should already know the answer, but verbal confirmation never hurt.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good." It was muttered, but the answer was enough; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony, after a moments consideration of him, nod and reach up once more for the center console.
"Alright, LOCCENT, why don't we call it a day?"
The pitch of the Jaeger-brand white noise around them rapidly descended and faded into nothing as Kaiju Buster shut down. Rhodey felt his stomach dropping with it until it hovered somewhere near his ankles.
"Drift terminated. Would you like to try again?"
He'd honestly always hated that AI.
6 MONTHS LATER - ASTORIA, OREGON SHATTERDOME
The buzz of activity in the large hangar was just a dull background noise compared to the high pitched vocals of Bon Scott blasting through his headphones. Tony managed to register the shrill beeping of a utility vehicle just in time to move out of it's path; the collision would've slowed him down. But maybe that wouldn't really be such a horrible thing-he wasn't exactly eagerly skipping off to this meeting. Sure, Marshal Fury had sounded pleased when he'd gotten the call but that didn't mean Tony shared the feeling. He was being assigned a yet another copilot, so? Big fucking deal, the guy sounded like he'd put Tony to sleep in record breaking time. Even the photo he'd received in the briefing packet several days ago had just screamed 'I have a stick up my ass, please hate me'.
"I got my gun at the ready, gonna fire at will/ 'Cause I shoot to thrill, and I'm ready to kill/ And I can't get enough, and I can't get my thrill-"
As he punched in the key to the door on the other side of the hangar, exiting into a much quieter section of the base, the guitar solo kicked in. Tony didn't spare a glance back to Iron Jaeger, the red giant of a machine standing as it always did, straight-backed and imposing through the flood of activity around it. Had to be prepared to meet it's new second pilot, after all; shined and oiled and fine tuned until it would impress even the most staunch men. A new coat of paint and a list of standard protocols to run that was at least three miles long. Seemed even Iron wouldn't be allowed to relax today. Poor guy had to be on his best behavior for the amnesiatic freak.
Tony frowned doubtfully at the door to Marshal Fury's office-he could still turn around. Just go right on back the way he'd come, head up to LOCCENT to grab a drink with Phil and Rhodey, or down to R&D to see what those pair of oddballs were up to. Tony could avoid this meeting altogether; the reaming out he'd get from Fury might not even be so-no, the gains outweighed the losses. With a feeling of grave sacrifice Tony raised his hand and pounded a fist against the thick metal door, swiping his headphones to hang out his neck just in time to hear Fury's permission to enter.
Opening the door he stepped up and into the room, eyes immediately drawn to the new person occupying the relatively small space. Yep, total tightwad. The guy was wearing a waistcoat for christ sakes. Made Tony feel underdressed in his standard issue t-shirt and jeans.
"Glad to see you could make it, Ranger." Nick's tone spoke of reproach; in the one-eyed man's brain Tony should've been here two hours early in full military dress. Whatever; he was lucky Tony'd shown up at all.
"Sorry, got lost on the way. What can you do?" Tony's shrug was enough to make Fury frown before he turned to the man just off center, ignoring Tony completely.
"Edwin Jarvis, this is Anthony Stark. If everything goes right with this little brainchild of ours, you two will be piloting Kaiju Buster together." To damn pleased, Fury sounded way too damn pleased for Tony's liking.
"Pleased to meet you, Sir." the tall, blonde haired blue eyed British (British? Tony almost laughed; this guy couldn't get any more stereotypically butler if he offered him tea) man off to the left turned to Tony, offering his hand for a polite shake. And 'Sir'? Really? What the hell was with that? They were both Rangers, equal rank as far as Tony was concerned-even if this Jarvis character was almost half his age. Oh jesus, was this guy naturally that formal? How the hell did the guys in Psych think they'd be drift compatible?
"Yeah, you too." If Tony had a choice he'd have left it at that, but he didn't want to seem like a total jackass. Bringing his hand out of his jeans pocket Tony shook the one offered, "And it's Tony, not Anthony."
"Isn't that just lovely? Good to see you two kids getting along so well." the sarcasm in Fury's voice was like a spear aimed straight for Tony, "Jarvis, no doubt you want to rest; the trip from the LA dome can't have been easy. We're a bit behind on Kaiju Buster's tune up, so you've got some time to play with."
"Yes, thank you Marshal. I would appreciate some time to become better acquainted with the facilities here." It was then that he turned to Tony, "I hope we have to chance to become better acquainted as well, Sir. I would rather like to know more about my new copilot."
"Yeah, sure…" It was half assed at best as Tony watched the blonde kid leave the room, knowing from the look on Fury's face he was supposed to stay behind and get chewed out for how much of a dick he was being.
"What the hell was that, Ranger?" Ah, right on time. "You're not even going to try to make this easy for me, are you?"
"Of course not, sir." he harped back with feigned enthusiasm, "If I did that you'd get bored, sir."
"You could learn to take a page from his book; he's respectful, for one." Nick's tone was clearly displeased as he took to pacing back and forth behind his desk but turned to face the man as he saw Tony unabashedly roll his eyes, "I don't have time to put up with your attitude, Ranger. He's been matched with you, better than anyone else we've tried. So you're going to suck it up and get along with him if it kills you."
"Excuse me, are you high? Because, no offense to Mister-Prissy-Pants back there, we couldn't be any more different. So it looks to me like you're just pulling pilots out of your ass because you need me to fight, but-"
Nick's sudden step forward, out from behind the desk, was enough to startle the Stark family heir into silence. His expression had gone from mildly annoyed to a stony lividity; clearly it was time for Tony to cut the crap. But he stood his ground as the taller man stepped into his space and glared one-eyed down at him, voice leaving not one centimeter for any objections.
"Let me clarify this for you, Stark. Edwin Jarvis was algorithmically matched with you out of a pool of approved pilots, a very large pool. His score on the simulator is almost equal to your's. He can fight with you, or replace you. You decide." His tone suggested a clear ultimatum, one that Tony had no option but to chose between.
It was no choice, not really-something that both Tony and the Marshal knew very well. It was either a place in this fight against the end of the world or to be thrown out onto the streets, defenseless just like all the other civilians whenever the next Kaiju hit. If Tony were honest the idea of it was just a bit frightening.
It was at this trepidation that Tony swallowed down his considerable pride and simply nodded, not allowing himself a sigh of relief as Fury stepped out of his space and back behind the desk.
"Good. The work on Kaiju Buster should be finished by sometime tomorrow. I the meantime, why don't you track down your new copilot and show him around the Dome?" This wasn't a choice either; an order phrased as a suggestion that Tony could hear loud and clear.
"Sounds great. I'm sure he and I will be making each other friendship bracelets and holding hands by the end of the week." Tony's returning smile was tight around the edges.
"Perfect, I'm looking forward to it." The pure snark in the commanding officer's voice was a force to be reckoned with, "Dismissed, Mr. Stark."
The Ranger was almost as eager to leave the room as he had been unwilling to enter it.
It was only a half hour later, as Jarvis was unpacking his bags and putting away his things, that the knock came on his door. It was soft, as if the knocker didn't have any desire to be heard, but in the quiet emptiness of his bunk room the young man heard the sound loud and clear. Putting down the pair of slacks he'd been in the process of folding Jarvis opened the door just in time to catch the back of Tony Stark as the man was about to turn and leave. But the opening of the door along with Jarvis' voice stopped him.
"Was there something you needed, Sir?" he asked, standing at the threshold with one hand on the heavy metal of the room.
"Oh, uh, no….Hey, why don't I give you a tour? Y'know, show you around the Shatterdome a little?" the phrasing was awkward, the tone genial and casual in a forced manner, but it seemed that Anthony Stark was at least trying to extend the olive branch of friendship.
"Yes, I think I would enjoy that." Jarvis replied, stepping beyond the threshold of his room and out into the hallway, turning to close the door behind him, "Shall we go?"
But as they walked through the long identical hallways, the mess hall, the main hangar and many of the other rooms that Jarvis did not recognize one thing became clear: Mr. Stark had been ordered to do this. He made it clear enough in his short and offhanded descriptions of the room, his lackluster introductions of Jarvis to others and the way he seemed to hurry them along at every possible moment. His future copilot was eager to get this experience over with. But where one might be offended Jarvis was simply confused; he had been nothing but cordial to Mr. Stark, friendly even. So why the cold shoulder?
The one and only time Jarvis witnessed anything other then that sort of aloof indifference was in the hangar, when the pair was standing on one of the upper levels looking out over the railing at the large red monstrosity of a Jaeger. Jarvis had memorized all of the statistics that had been included in his briefing folder, but one thing Tony said from the start made him tune back in.
" 'Iron Jaeger'? I thought it's designation was 'Kaiju Buster'." he asked with a quirk of a brow, acutely recalling that the later name was the one that had been in the records he'd received.
"Yeah, well, it is; officially at least. 'Iron Jaeger' is kind of a nickname, something my old man used to say. 'Stark men are made of iron', whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. Makes me wonder why he was so for that stupid wall project."
And that was the extent of it, the only thing Jarvis ever got out of Tony that wasn't as bare-bones an answer to any question he asked, before the pair was quickly moving on out of the hangar and on with the tour.
They made their way through countless more corridors and into the elevator, a bland and economically lit thing, which descending until Jarvis thought they must have gone straight to the bowels of the base. He could not remember a time that riding in an elevator had been so awkward. Well, he couldn't remember many elevator rides, so his base for comparison was rather small, but this was certainly the most awkward of those few. In any case, the lift slowed to a stop at their destination and the doors spread open.
Immediately, there was a change in atmosphere. What had been cold and militaristically blank walls and concrete floors was now filled with bookshelves, whiteboards, and various computer displays. A seemingly haphazard collection of rugs covered the floor; most old and Persian in nature-thing salvaged from the trash. One side of the room was lined wall-to-wall with various jars and tubs of small specimens that must have been bits of Kaiju. There were a few large glass tubes filled with floating bits of preserved viscera on a shelf that reached high above the pilots' heads, interspersed with various large texts. The rest of the room was divided neatly between books and computers, work tables, a slightly tilted punching bag, and a heaping, fresh pile of Kaiju innards. Jarvis took in the whole of the room which, when coupled with the soothing tones of classical music, stood in sharp contrast to the orderly atmosphere of the rest of the base.
A young man, who looked to be about the same age as Jarvis himself, was practically kneeling in the entrails when they entered. He wore his long blonde hair in a bun as well as a leather apron to protect himself from the gore. That didn't stop him from tearing an intestine out of the pile with his bare hands though, which he did swiftly as the two pilots entered. When he noticed their arrival he sat back on his haunches and wiped his brow, spreading an unknown ooze that Jarvis decided was best to not wonder about across his forehead.
"Well, if it isn't Stark himself!" the man said good naturedly, "What glorious occasion has made you see fit to grace us mere commoners with your presence?"
Beside him Tony made a noise much like a disgruntled animal and ignored the comment. It was then that the man stood, revealing his impressive height as he did so, and picked his way carefully through the field of Kaiju remains surrounding his immediate area. He managed it without incident however and, thankfully, swiped a clean rag from a nearby work table and removed the apron before getting to close. Hands now acceptably clean of Kaiju fluids he held one out and gave Jarvis' a hearty shake in greeting.
"You'll learn to ignore him soon enough, Mr. Jarvis. I'm Doctor Thor Odinson-" the man began, his voice a deep and rich baritone that matched his size before Tony interrupted.
"Yep, one of our two intrepid K-Science nerds-the little one is around here somewhere." a dismissive wave was turned in the general direction of the room before Tony focused on the handshake the two were exchanging, "Hey, would you look at that! Looks like you two will be fast friends, guess I'd better run before I become that awkward third wheel. I'm very happy for you two, congratulations!"
And just like that Tony was out the door and long gone, leaving Jarvis bewildered and slightly offended in his wake. Was Tony really so against this that he would dump him in the care of a basic stranger? Was the idea of drifting and fighting the Kaiju threat along side him really so detestable?
"As I said before," Dr. Odinson continued with a chuckle, "He takes some getting used to. And as for my colleague..." It was then that the Kaiju scientist turned to survey the room, "Bruce, someone has come to say hello!"
"Let me guess, Stark abandoned him?" a smaller voice spoke from somewhere among the work tables, desks, and books, it's source showing itself as a wheeled desk chair rolled into view.
"Yes, unfortunately for our new friend here it seems so." the taller blonde K-Scientist replied with a nod, gesturing to his colleague, "Mr. Jarvis, this is Doctor Bruce Banner. Bruce, if all goes well this is Kaiju Buster's second pilot, Edwin Jarvis."
It was only at that moment that Jarvis realized many people seemed to know his name without him having to make the introductions; apparently news of him had long preceded his arrival. Everyone seemed to cast the same appraising glance when they first laid eyes on him, as if comparing their mental composition to the real life version. So far it seemed he hadn't hugely disappointed anyone...save for Mr. Stark, of course. He really would have to figure that out.
"Really, don't worry about it too much," the curly haired, bespectacled scientist assured him; apparently Jarvis' face had changed to match his train of thought, "He does that to everyone, even us. And we've known him for years by now."
"That does not exactly sound promising when it comes to drifting." the man admitted, the connection had been begging to be made since he first met Anthony Stark several hours ago.
"You can't worry about that either, my friend." Thor replied with a pat to the back that he surely thought was gentle but had Jarvis stumbling slightly with his upset balance, "There's not much anyone can do to change a man like Tony Stark, it was why there's not many who are really drift compatible."
"Yes, that much I managed to gather. He does seem rather..." Jarvis replied with a sigh trailing off when words failed him.
"Infuriating?" asked Dr. Banner, a slightly smile on his face.
"Impudent?" Thor now, chiming in with his own suggestion.
"Self-Centered!" Dr. Banner once more, finger in the air as if he'd found the perfect descriptive word.
"I was simply going to say 'challenging', but I suppose the pair of you would know him better than I would." Jarvis said with a chuckle, turning to Thor as the blonde man slung an arm around his shoulders.
"Let me put it this way for you; there is a little saying around the PPDC; 'The only thing Tony Stark can drift with is himself or a blank sheet of paper'." The phrase succeeded in giving him some context for his place in all of this.
"So I'm your 'blank sheet of paper'." he said with some confidence, which was only proven correct when Thor nodded.
"Yes, exactly!" With that the scientist gave another careful wipe of his hands before turning to Bruce, "So this blank sheet of paper and I are going to get coffee, do you want to come along?"
"No, I'd better not-someone has to make sure one of these don't crawl away while you're gone." With a hand Bruce gestured to one of the specimens floating in a yellowish liquid, which twitched helpfully.
The blonde scientist gave the bit of kaiju spleen an almost brotherly gaze before taking Jarvis by the sleeve and leading him back to the elevator. Now, it wasn't common for anyone to leave the Shatterdome for personal reasons, mostly because they always had to be prepared for the next attack. As a result, the people of the base eventually converted one of the unneeded floors into a recreation area. The mess hall was there, of course, but a basketball court had sprung up one day when a particularly homesick engineer had found an extra bottle of red spray paint. A few tables for playing chess grew in the next couple of weeks, and someone set up almost a dozen coffee machines. It impressed the new pilot, how strong the urge to create something normal in this outrageous time was for these people. The feeling of impending doom was alleviated slightly when one was watching a group of young men play games.
Dr. Odinson made amiable chit-chat along the way, pointing out the little things in the base that Tony either hadn't known about or hadn't cared enough to share. A kind gesture to be sure, but Jarvis's thoughts kept drifting back to "blank paper" comment. It wasn't the strangest phrase to use, but it's accuracy struck home. If Thor noticed the newcomer slipping into silence more and more often, he said nothing. Though, once they had their coffee and were sitting a comfortable distance from any curious passers-by it was an entirely different story.
"So, what do you think of the place so far?" Thor asked, leaning forward on the table eagerly, "It's not the most comfortable, but you get used to it."
Jarvis smiled genuinely, "I think it's quite exciting, and everyone seems very welcoming. Quite the change from the life of a paper pusher."
The scientist's chuckle rumbled across the table, "Ah, yes, the woes of being an intern. What made you decide to become a pilot?"
Here Jarvis paused, his grip on the paper cup tightening the tiniest amount, "I've actually wanted to from the beginning. I originally enlisted as a candidate for the program, but It wasn't until recently that I was approved."
"Well, tell me something I don't know." Thor teased, "I meant, what made you want to pilot Jaegers? Why not fighter jets or tanks?"
"Wait; how could you have known that?" he responded, his curiosity getting the better of him. The way Thor and Bruce had looked at him, the way people had been treating him, it felt like they were trying to match him to a mold and seemed satisfied. It was like he met some sort of expectation, and it was starting to make him uncomfortable.
"I read your file. I like to keep tabs on the pilots and their 'issues' just like every other clearance-justified person in this base." he admitted nonchalantly.
"My file?" Of course his file was being passed around like a hot potato. People talked, that's just what they did. It shouldn't have been a surprise to him that everyone knew everything there was to know about him before he even set foot in the place. Well, they knew every documentable thing there was to know. Still, it was a daunting feeling, that everyone knew the intimate details of your medical and personal history. The new pilot fell into silence, occupied by his thoughts, while Thor took a few awkward sips of his coffee.
"So," the other man finally muttered, trying to break the mood that had descended on the pair, "Retrograde amnesia, right?"
"Of a sort." Jarvis said, being purposefully vague-his extensive memory loss, his newly christened status as a 'blank sheet', wasn't exactly something he was eager to discuss with anyone, let alone a man whom he had ultimately just met.
It was then that he noted the purple and yellow splotches on the skin of Thor's arm, a swath of bruises that showed themselves when he reached again for his cup and his shirtsleeve rode up just so.
"What about those?" he asked with a dip of his head towards his table mates arm, thus prompting Thor to turn his gaze as well, "Side effects of working with kaiju, I'd imagine?"
"Of a sort."
Notes:
Feel free to give feedback! Comments are appreciated. This was written for Brilcrist's Pacific Rim AU contest. We hope you stick around for the rest.
For questions, comments, etc. the authors' tumblrs are
-wintermoons
-libertybell