Names were strange. His name was Raleigh, but his big brother Yancy called him kid, kiddo, and brat. He in turn called Yancy things like old man, or bro. And everyone else called them the Beckets, or the Becket boys.

He didn't even need to call Yancy anything, most of the time. Their bond, strengthened by the Drift, made words a little redundant sometimes. But they liked talking to each other. Raleigh especially liked to talk, and his brother would drive him mad by saying that it was just because the younger Becket liked to hear his own voice.

The point being, Raleigh could count on his fingers how many times Yancy had called him by name in the last year. At least until the day Knifehead emerged from the Breach.

"Raleigh, listen to me, you need to-"

Raleigh!

The last thing Raleigh ever heard from his big brother was his own name, screamed across the neural handshake for an agonizing two seconds that were both too short and too long. Just his own name, blending with Yancy's as he yelled his big brother's name back. The sudden silence and physical hole went deeper than the hull of the Gipsy Danger.

For minutes, hours, and days afterward, Yancy's name was the only thing Raleigh could say. He mumbled it to himself when he was alone in his infirmary bed; he cried it out in his nightmares. Maybe part of him wanted to make up for not using it more often before.

The first time he sees Stacker Pentecost, five years and four moths later, he already dreads formally meeting him. And a part of him that never stopped hurting aches worse when the Marshall calls him "Mr. Becket." There had never been a time in Raleigh's life when Becket was singular, unless it was closely followed by an inquiry to the whereabouts of his brother. He doesn't like being called by his first name much either, he always hears it in Yancy's voice. Frankly, Raleigh prefers it when the Marshall just calls him Ranger.

When Tendo calls him "Becket boy", the part of Raleigh that isn't rejoicing to see his old friend agonizes over the lack of plural again.

Herc Hansen calls him just by his first name, and Raleigh is almost all right with that. It's his name and while it reminds him of Anchorage, he's glad to be reminded. Herc had known Yancy after all, and awknowleged that he was gone. It wasn't as painful to be reminded, when it was from someone like Herc.

On the other hand, when Chuck calls him "Ray", Raleigh wants to punch the man's face in. Irrationally, it becomes an insult beyond a misinterpretation and he doesn't much prefer when Chuck gets it right.

When Mako calls him "Mr. Becket", it's a slap in the face. His almost-excitement after their bout in the ring and feeling their Drift compatibility dries up when he remembers that the only person he should be Drifting with was missing like the "s" that should be on his last name.

Then he and Mako deploy to rescue the Striker Eureka and take down the first double event of Kaiju ever. Raleigh almost obsessively says her name every time he talks to her even though he doesn't need to. After they take down Leatherback and Otachi, Herc calls his name, and the Marshall calls him "Mr. Becket" again. But this time it's "Mr Becket" and "Miss Mori". And it feels right, and it feels like Gipsy has two pilots again, and it doesn't hurt.

Too soon and they're in the ocean, only miles from the Breach. Their arm is gone, one leg is crippled, and Striker needs them. Raleigh calls them by the name of their Jaeger, and they do the same to him and Mako. Marshall tells them to stay back multiple times, tells them to not come help. Raleigh objects.

"No, Raleigh, listen to me!"

The words are almost the same, the pain is in the wrong arm but the pain is the same. Raleigh doesn't notice, not really. He's not in Anchorage, and Mako is still with him. He doesn't really notice his name, it's not important anymore.

He repeats Mako's name as many times as he can before he engages her escape pod. He can't breathe very well, everything hurts, and part of his mind still equates names with goodbyes.

Everything is black for a long time, but he eventually hears the voice of his co-pilot. And Mako is saying his name, and she's saying it in the same broken tone that he had said Yancy's name a hundred times over. It's the greatest feeling he can imagine to be able to answer her, and as more than an echo from the Drift. And then Tendo calls for them, calls them both, and it's an even greater feeling to hear his name. It feels right, and after the cold and the black and the memories, it makes him feel alive.

Names were strange.

I just watched Pacific Rim for the first time, and I really loved it. But anyway, I figured that since they were connected the brothers must have had last words with each other and this idea came to me, and I jotted it down.