A/N: SORRY NOT SORRY PACIFIC RIM SUCKED ME BACK IN HAVE A FIC
BYYYYYYEE~
Reflections
Prologue: Mirrors
Her name was Tesla Geiszler, older twin sister to Newton Geiszler, and she was awesome.
At least, her Dad, Uncle, and brother thought so.
She was just as smart as Newton, just a prone to random, brilliant bursts of clever and convoluted ideas that lead to more than one toaster or television being re-engineered for the sake of a hypothesis, Figgy more often than not buried cheerfully elbow deep next to her in the mechanical gore. (She was the only one who could call him that, after her favorite snack, Fig Newtons. Just like he was the only one who could call her Sparky, since she was named after Nicola Tesla, and the Tesla Coil.). There was the occasional house fire and, on one memorable occasion, an explosion, but their ideas usually ended up being amazing and awesome.
("Just like us, Sparky! Rockstars 'til the end, am I right?!"
"Shut up, Figgy, and help me put Dad's engine back in the car before he gets home."
"Right!")
Figgy and Sparky, identical in all but gender, but actually Mirror Twins, their whole bodies a physical reflection of the other. He was right handed, she was left, his organs faced the right way, hers were flipped, he had a strawberry-shaped birthmark on his left thigh and hers was on her right. Mirror images, reflecting on one another, and they wouldn't have it any other way. On top of that, they were connected at the brain, a sort of psychic level that meant they always knew what the other was doing where and when and sometimes it messed up their heads, they'd do things the other was doing or finish a sentence that was a thought, but they worked around this easily enough.
("Why are you buttering the newspaper, Newt?"
"...Damn it, Sparky..." Sigh "I'll clean it up, Uncle Illia.")
The doctors and scientists later called it a "Natural Occurring Ghost Drift" that made the military eager to shove them into the Jaeger program, but Newt was too easily distracted, and neither of them had the physical or mental strength to handle the training, which, according to their Commander, was a "Damn Shame" because not one of the other recruits had a Drift as strong or complete as theirs was, but, then, they'd always been in one another's head, so why wouldn't being deeper matter?
They'd followed one another around for ages, never more than an hour away from the other, because further than that would lead to migraines they'd rather not talk about. Newt was the energy of their team, the one in constant motion, able to go days utterly focused on a million things, not sleeping, barely eating, until he collapsed or Tesla pulled him away long enough to get him to nap. She was the power, the force, able to push her ideas forward with an unbending spine and sharp tongue. They clashed, once in a blue moon, because of this, and it was always explosive, leading to broken noses and blackened eyes and shattered glass.
His decision to go into the PPDC K-Science unit, and her decision not to, had been their latest.
(After the fight that had left her arm broken, his back molar cracked, and both of them sporting bloody hands and faces, they had agreed to disagree and had promptly cleaned up while discussing Newt's latest project and her latest job offer from some underground shmuck that thought he was something. No one could understand how the two could tear into each other so horribly then revert to the cheerful-if-almost-too-intimate-seeming siblings, but, when you shared the same headspace, despite understanding the other's ideals, it didn't mean you weren't your own person. It just meant you knew where to hit to do the most damage, and when to hug to do the most good.)
They went their separate ways, chatting on the phone or in their heads over the next nine years, moving to the Hong Kong Shatterdome where they, again, moved around one another's jobs.
("He's just so annoying, Sparky!"
"Mmhmm..."
"He always complains about Kaiju guts on his side of the Lab, and says that I'm not a real scientist just because I don't follow regular procedure...
"Uh-huh"
"And he hates Led Zepplin, Sparky! I mean, What the fuck?!" The sound of inarticulate flailing manages to come through the phone.
"You'd still fuck him if he wasn't happily married though."
"God yes.")
("Wait, you're working for the Mob?! Dude, what the fuck?!"
"I get paid better than you do, and he gave me a Kaiju Liver to play with."
"...What Kaiju's Liver?"
"Trespasser's."
"...You lucky bitch."
"Mmhmm!")
But as the world seemed to be coming to an end, with Kaiju attacks happening left to right, getting worse and worse, Tesla had never outright worried for her brother, and he had never worried about her.
They knew they could count on one another, no matter what, no matter when. If one showed up with a dead body, the other would grab a shovel. If one showed up with a baby, the other would happily start gushing about their new niece/nephew/sprog.
If one decided to Drift with a chunk of half-dead Kaiju Brain...
Well, the other would be brought along for the ride, whether they wanted to be or not, and, well.
She would always watch her brother's back... Brain... Whatever!
They were Rockstars, after all.
A/N: (Whistles innocently while working on the next chapter already)