"You sure you're okay with this, Benny Boy? My mind's gonna seem like a dumpster's next to the great Marshal Washington."
Ben side-eyed Caleb over the top of Courier's control panel. Normally he'd have a witty retort of his own, or even a stern rebuke, but now, truth be told, he was still on an emotional high from the victory three days before. As expected by friends and foes alike, he and Washington had drifted so seamlessly that the Kaiju—recently dubbed "Vuvuzela" for its horns—hadn't stood a chance. Of course… the extra Jaeger pounding it into the pavement might have had something to do with it. Ben had only seen Abe and Richard's skills on tape and admittedly, the personal demonstration had been impressive. Then again, he'd heard that the same could be said of his and Washington's performance—that alone was enough to lighten Ben's mood, and it touched not at all on the actual drift.
Washington had called him his son.
Well… he'd thought the word. Briefly. In the very back of his mind, brought forth by a discussion of names… still. That term was there and Washington had applied it to him, no matter how fleeting.
"You're thinking about it again, aren't you?" Caleb said. He shook his helmet at Ben. "Soon enough that head of yours is gonna be too fat for the equipment."
"Oh shut it," Ben said, settling into the left side of Courier. He'd told Caleb about the drift, including Washington's thoughts. Of course he had. Even if they weren't the sort of partners that shared it all, Caleb would have picked it up in this drift regardless.
That was the newly discovered downside of fighting alongside Hewlett. Until now a Kaiju fight had produced significant but ultimately manageable destruction. With two Jaegers fighting in the same, small area though? It had taken Ben coming down from an admittedly deserved high to look back at the battlefield from a civilian perspective, noting the extraordinary damage. It was why he'd volunteered for this mission, even though by all rights he should be recuperating. It was only a simple clean up though. Luckily the citizens had been evacuated prior to Vuvuzela making landfall (no bodies, thank god), but there was more than enough debris to move aside in preparation for rebuilding. Jaegers were good for more than just demolition.
"But really, should I be offended?" Caleb locked into his post, ignoring all protocol to jab wildly at Ben. "Abandoned by my drift partner, reclaimed like an embarrassing ex, only to get put on trash duty instead of a real fight… would've loved to smack Horny around a bit, even just once…"
"Vuvuzela," Ben emphasized, not for the first time. "Stop calling it 'Horny.'"
Caleb jabbed another finger. "No, you stop calling it Vu-vu-whatever. How do you people even come up with these names? They're awful!"
"You know it's Anna." Ben gave a startled laugh at Caleb's expression. "She is in charge of all classifications. Honestly, I think she's been trying to impress Hewlett. She's been on a music kick lately."
"That is horrifying in so many ways, Ben. So. Many. Ways."
"We're good on this end, Billy," Ben called, shaking his head. He quickly toggled off the com. "Is he even qualified to be running LOCCENT?"
"Billy's qualified to do everything, how dare you."
"Of course, how could I forget. Hey," Ben jammed his helmet into place, grinning over at Caleb. "Quick mission, right? Back before lunch? Wonder if after that victory Hewlett will be more receptive to visits. You could yell at Anna in person for her awful naming practices, instead of passing everything through Abe. Doesn't have quite the same ring to it that way, huh?"
"Visits with those fools? We're living the dream, Benny Boy." Caleb shoved his own helmet down. "You waiting 'till we die of old age, Billy? Let 'er rip!"
Ben found himself laughing softly against his visor as Billy counted down in his ear. This was, all things considered, a pretty perfect day: straight out of a major victory for humanity, following the first co-strike they'd ever truly run with Hewlett, Washington's emotions still thrumming through his veins, Nathaniel's voice ringing in his ears, bringing hope by way of science where brute force had thus failed, Abe was still managing a drift with his father (more than managing, despite his complaints), Anna was chipper enough to lend the world some humor, Simcoe remarkably quiet—for now—which left only Caleb, laughing along with him, handling his uncle and the changes around him better than Ben could have ever hoped.
"Initiating neural drift—"
—and there it was, that familiar mind in the back of his own, thrumming softly. It felt like donning his oldest sweater at the very start of fall.
"Well ain't that romantic of you," Caleb said and Ben whacked his own arm, knowing his partner would feel it.
"I hate you."
"Bullshit you do."
They were still arguing as Courier stepped out into the early morning—Ben's lips forming insults, his mind welcoming the dawn.
He should have known things were too perfect.
The initial cleanup went as smoothly and quickly as Ben had expected. They cleared the roadways as much as possible, allowing the other crews to finally make their way through ("Look at all the tiny ants, Ben"). They easily tore down buildings that wouldn't stand much longer, segregated piles of salvageable and un-salvageable materials, powered up Courier's rockets, creating a whirlwind through the area, taking away all the dust and grim that had settled in the ensuing days. The Kaiju's carcass has already been dissected for study, leaving the air as crisp and clear as if a battle had never occurred at all.
The day was pleasant, the work mindless, and soon Ben and Caleb began to drift. Not literal drifting of course—they were already doing that—but what Ben had heard Hewlett's soldiers describe as "meta-drifting" (maybe Caleb had a point about the naming over there…). It was the act of permitting one's mind to wander while engaged in a drift, allowing for a far more intense recall or a startling clear fantasy. Ben could literally mix his memories with Caleb's, or Caleb could dive into his until they saw the images played out like a film, or they could both construct imaginary worlds… it was daydreaming taken to the next, interpersonal level. It was also a testament to their compatibility and skill, as well as their enduring friendship, that they could basically goof off while still helping with the recovery.
Meta-drifting did have a tendency to lesson one's focus though…
Looking back, Ben imagined that it was actually a number of things, thrown together through sheer bad luck:
Meta-drifting when they probably shouldn't have, their guards already down, Ben keeping a corner of his mind focused on Washington, Caleb dealing with compartments one might label "self-esteem" and "grief" (though of course he'd never admit it, even in the drift), Ben's stupid decision to throw water into the mix…
They'd been clearing another building when Ben saw it: a water tower that had somehow escaped the destruction, balanced precariously against an already crumbling wall. The responsible thing would have been to transfer it to the other resources. What Ben actually did—brought on by relaxation and a playful air—was to briefly seize control of Courier (no easy task that), rip off the top of the tower, and dump the contents over Caleb's side. Obviously he didn't actually get wet, but the thought was there, and Ben was already halfway through a cheer when he realized something was wrong.
"Caleb?"
Ben could see him, feel him, staring straight through his visor, right where the torrent of water had come rushing a moment before. Ben's chest grew tight and it took him a moment to realize it was because Caleb was heaving, his body starting to shake, ever muscle tight and ready to flee. Ben tried to take a step forward—which was stupid, he was in a Jaeger—but then he actually did. Ben stumbled on his own two feet and hissed in a panicked breath.
"No, no, no, Caleb, don't chase it—don't—shit!"
Ben stepped into a river.
Courier was gone. The leveled city was gone; even the daylight. Ben was smack dab in the middle of the Delaware River and the only reason he wasn't swimming was because Courier hadn't actually disappeared—it was just damaged now. He stood on the knee of his submerged Jaeger, looking towards an exit hatch.
It would open. Any second. Ben knew it would because he remembered this mission as clearly as he remembered the last… Humanity's first true victory against the Kaiju. Missile strikes a bust, interception impossible, many had given up on anything stopping the first monster that had invaded their world… but not Washington. Courier only partially complete, and Ben and Caleb newly minted drift partners (but certainly not new friends), on Washington's orders they'd snuck across the river in the dead of night, taking the beast by surprise and securing their first triumph.
But not without cost.
"Ben!"
Caleb's voice cut across the night and Ben made to call back before he realized how useless that was. Caleb—the Caleb of his past—burst out through the hatch and scrambled across Courier's arm, down to where Ben knew his own body lay. He'd been thrown from their Jaeger in the final moments of the battle, severing the drift link with a viciousness that, had he been conscious, would have sent him reeling. Caleb was indeed stumbling, red pouring from his nose in the moonlight. He persevered though, calling Ben's name repeatedly and with growing fear. Ben followed.
"Oh god," Caleb said, stuttering towards his form. "Oh fuck, Benny Boy. Shite. Shite."
Ben stopped cold at the sight of his own body… a funny thing that. For it wasn't the fall that had proved a danger (just a broken arm and ribs), nor even the blue blood pouring from their first kill. No. It was the river itself.
Only Ben's feet has escaped getting drenched, his helmet keeping him from drowning, but the icy cold of the river water had seeped through his drivesuite with terrible ease. Ben knew because he'd still been able to feel the effects when he'd awoken two days later.
"—don't do this, don't you do this—"
Caleb was tearing apart his suit, bearing Ben's naked body, pressing his own stripped form directly on top. He howled though as he felt the iciness of Ben's skin. There was nothing with which to warm either of them. Nothing but cold water and colder metal.
Ben starred in horror at his own still form. He wasn't even shivering.
"You're drifting," he whispered, then jerked as he came back to himself. "Dammit, Caleb, we're drifting! This happened years ago! You're chasing the RABBIT and you need to snap out of it right now because who knows what the hell we're doing back in reality. I can't get back to Courier on my own!"
"Wake up, Ben, c'mon, wake up, we're not going out like this, how you gonna impress Washington when you're blue as a Smurf, huh? Just open your eyes, c'mon, c'mon, Ben, I can't lose you, buddy, I can't, please—"
"… oh, Caleb."
He couldn't hear him. He was too far gone, staring at a ghost-Ben instead of the one right in front of his face. A part of Ben hoped that Washington would show up and end this, but of course that hadn't happened. Their fight had taken them miles down the river and with their coms busted halfway through the fight, LOCCENT had lost visual and audio, unable to find them, let alone help. It had been Hewlett who had eventually pulled them from the water… hours later and nearly too late. Of course, Ben had been unaware of the passing of time, unaware of what Caleb had done over the course of that night.
He certainly hadn't mentioned any of this.
Numb, Ben watched as Caleb tried valiantly to keep him warm, fiddled with his dead com, dove intoCourier only to came back out in a panic, staring mutely at his body. He went in again, desperate to find something warm—unsuccessful. Curling beside Ben, rubbing his beard over his hands, thinking about swimming through the water, realizing the folly of such a choice, screaming for help, whispering it, ranting at the very stars. Time moved more swiftly in a memory, but it still felt like hours until Caleb finally succumbed to his own exhaustion. As it was, Ben didn't move until sunlight started sprinkling along the river.
Hewlett and his men would be here soon.
"Caleb." Ben knelt beside his friend, cocooning him between two versions of himself. "Caleb. It's over. It was over a long time ago."
He couldn't hear.
Ben placed his hand on Caleb's shoulder and this time he could just barely feel skin, skin that was far warmer than the river or the morning would have allowed. He squeezed as hard as he could, no doubt leaving bruises.
"I'm not leaving you," he said.
Caleb jerked his gaze upwards and finally found Ben.
"… Fucking shite," he cried.
Ben opened his own eyes then, knowing before he did that he'd see Courier's interior, fixed and upgraded over the course of many years. He could feel Caleb shaking beside him, still drawing himself out of the RABBIT hole, but Ben ignored him for just a moment. His priority had to be the civilians. What had they forced Courier to do during… how long had it been?
The sun was far higher now, approaching noon. For a moment Ben panicked… but he needn't have bothered.
With Caleb's emotions dominating, their Jaeger had simply found a spot to hide amongst the rubble. It was curled awkwardly in a ball, rocking itself with a terrible 'scrape scrape' of metal against pavement.
Ben could feel Caleb doing the same.
"It's okay," Ben said. He tore himself from the machinery and stumbled towards his partner.
"It's okay. I'm okay."