Once again, nothing belongs to me, just imagination and Mo. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, it's really heart lifting!
Mo wasn't so sure she wanted to go to the populated world as of late.
The guy, Yancy, made her cautious of what she should say to him. After two days of him conscious, it was a painful lesson learned.
She had been completely honest, beating around the bush a bit, and he tended to get this steely look and just freeze. Not saying anything, tensing to a degree that she thought she hadn't thawed him out right. Her father taught her to be honest, people appreciated honesty, lies built false hope… So she practiced what he preached.
"You've been out for nearly a month" resulted in her favorite cup becoming no more.
"I can't get you home for at least another year or so" ended with another cabinet door hanging by hinge, though she was glad she hadn't had a chance to continue that sentence, saying even then, she might not even be able to move them anywhere. Technically wasn't a lie, just an unfinished… statement.
Yeah.
"No one's replied to my calls through the radio in seven years" almost ended with said radio out the window, if she hadn't have tackled him away from the poor, rusty thing.
Three strikes, and you're out, she thought as she gnawed on her daily lollipop, coconut this time. Her mouth was shut now, though some nervous babbling occasionally came out, and she kept her distance from him as he focused in on himself. He figured out that most of the bulk on him were layers of shirts and jackets she found in her dad's closet and that he lost a considerably good amount of weight (she wasn't going to tell him she nearly choked him to death the past month with beans and soup). Now he has the only room, her room essentially, as his personal gym. Making the door frame a pull-up bar, rug as an exercise mat, and her poor mattress as a makeshift dummy.
She didn't know what to do really, except go back to digging. How was she supposed to act? Go in there and demand his life story? Ask him what's wrong? Because, honestly, she had an inkling of what was wrong and she was part of it, and she didn't feel like getting that icy look from him anymore.
It didn't feel right to bug him about it, they'd be here, alone, together for probably another 2 years, maybe 4 – she winced at that, she really should correct herself to him, not get his hopes up… it hurt being practical with herself, but at least she didn't disappoint herself. Though, maybe if she had an extra hand, it could go faster…
"Hey, I know you want to bash my face in for being incapable, but you wanna help dig some holes? Don't really know where I should be digging for my parent's pride and glory, but I think I got it down pat!"
Yeah - no thank you.
Mo really was a nervous wreck around this man, and if this was what the rest of the human population was like, she'd rather him express delivered without her presence. This icy prison is better than all that stress. Forget blankets.. nice warm, cozy blankets…
"Ugh!" she groaned as a shiver ran down her spine, her teeth clattering together. It'd been almost a full week now from when Yancy drifted ashore, and her calm, steady schedule was now messed up. She lost her bed to the Ranger, her favorite blankets, and bathing was now a pain!
She respected him, he fought with a Jaeger, an amazing feat and a great honor, but damn it all, right now he was human and it was annoying. Shouldn't they be cooled down by now? It wasn't her fault he decided to just show up out of the blue.
"It's not my fault" she told her shovel, scraping the excess snow away from the rim of her hole, sniffling, "it isn't-" she grunted as she dug the nose into the resisting snow, putting her weight into it, "my fault". Whipping her gloved hand across her forehead, she sighed, watching as her breath condensed before her eyes, eyes watering.
"Papa" she moaned, finally giving up for the day, having left extra early to get away from the pilot and staying longer than normal. The sun still hung in the sky, blazing, though her aching body told her it was getting later in the evening. Sliding down into her hole, she gazed down, wishing for x-ray vision to see what lay underneath, "I wish you here…"
"a-a-at c-ame back"
Glaring down at the rusting radio, she lightly flicked it, "not you, dork, though it is nice hearing you today" always repeating the same song, but for seven years it had been the only voice besides her own, so she never could get tired of it. And now that she did have a new voice, she didn't want to hear it.
Irony. She wasn't really used to it, or never acknowledged it before the past week the pilot had woken up. Frankly she didn't like it and she had an inkling she never would.
"Where are you?" Mo asked the ground, scrubbing at her eyes, deciding to head back. Before it seemed like an endless journey back, a mile out, now it didn't seem long enough.
Nearly four more months until the sun would disappear for a handful of months. First time she wouldn't be alone in the dark and now she felt as if it was the boogey man with her.
The front door creaked as it rattled on its hinges, a force outside opposing the rusted metal. A pause before a groan was heard and with a loud cracked and the door was forced open, dumping a freezing and frazzled young woman.
Uttering a groan she turned on her back, staring at the rotting ceiling, nose and cheeks red.
"Right then" she breathed, finding energy to jump back up despite the burn in her thighs, and hurriedly shut the door. With a short lasting shiver she tugged her cap off and ran a numb hand through the combination of wild long hair and fuzzy short hair, walking towards the lone pantry to raid it for her least favorite army dinner – dehydrated meals that needed to be popped into a microwave, meant for high calorie intake, not taste.
Already knowing the directions by heart, she popped the whole thing in the microwave and set the timer, turning to stare down the hallway where her house…guest was housed. She had gotten into the habit of cooking a full one to half it with the Jaeger pilot; he had lost a lot of weight, most, if not all, was muscle, so he had to gain it back one way or another.
"Mr. Becket?" Mo called, raising on her tip toes to lean to the side, maybe to see if he was asleep through the open door – but alas, the door was sealed closed, no movement betraying anything that was going on behind the door. Waiting a heartbeat she tried again, "Mr. Becket, food!"
Nothing.
Scratching at her head she glanced between the microwave clock to the closed door. Was it rude to let him sleep through the only good meal of the day? Impolite? Would he yell at her for interrupting something?
"Hey" she called, walking forward, down the short hallway, pressing her ear to the door, "I know I'm late, but come on – it gets boring in here" knocking lightly, she waited again. The only sound was the screaming wind through the cracks of the house and her thudding heart in her ears.
Knocking louder, she tried again, "Y-Yancy?"
A shout answered her call. Agony ripping off of the person's vocal cords, amplifying the paranoia in Mo, making her heart stutter before it doubled back, pounding against her ribcage. She jumped back in fright, the heel of her boot catching on a loose board, sending her crashing into the opposite wall.
What the hell was that? Did a bear manage to bust in a window?!
Jumping up into action, Mo threw herself against the door as she turned the knob, the momentum propelling her towards her intended location – the lousy bed right across from the door. It stumped her though, that it was just Yancy in the bed, struggling with the thick comforters strewn across him and the floor. No fury mess of fangs and claws ripping out his innards.
"Mr. Becket?" she called out, staring inpolitely. Her chest heaved as her breathing went back to normal. Waiting, all she received was a groan as his body flopped, terribly near the edge of the bed. Jumping once on her feet, she looked around her, as she always did as a child expecting her parents to barge in and catch her in the act. Her mother always knew when she was about to do something stupid. When it was still just Yancy and her, she approached the bed, her bed, and tentavely poked the ranger's shoulder, watching for a reaction.
"I'm really starting to dislike your name" Mo mused, seriously, she only called out three names in her entire lifetime, when she only received a jerk of the arm from his nightmare, not from her. Sighing, she rolled her shoulders and bent down, bracing her hands on the man's side as well as her feet on the ground, before starting to shove. At first he didn't move, which surprised her, she'd dragged his sorry ass all the way out of the shack weeks before, and now it was hard to just – push. Grunting softly, she took a deep breath before pushing with her knees, as if she was using a running force, and was rewarded when his body gave in and turned over on the bed.
When he finally rolled over, flopping on his stomach with his head in an awkward angle.
"Well, then" Mo huffed, jumping back when his leg kicked out with another moan, "byt' ostorozhnym!" [be careful]. Grumbling, she tapped his shoulder again, "Mr. Becket, wake up!"
"Raleigh…"
Blinking, Mo leaned in a bit more, confused.
"Raleigh… listen to me..." his breath left him and his body started shaking, almost vibrating in a constant shiver, fist clenching. Mo's hands twitched, wanting to hear what he was saying, yet knowing she should wake him up, take him away from his living nightmare.
"Be good" Mo told herself, throwing her hand forward before she could think different, and shook the man's arm, a bit shocked at the compact density of it. Was it healthy to build that much muscle in such a short amount of time and maintain it? Shaking a bit more forcefully, Mo bit her lip. He had probably exhausted himself and wouldn't wake up for anything. Well…
Looking into his brother's eyes, despair gripped him. He was stuck in a cycle of the events of his last drop, connected to his brother as he realized what was happening, what was going to happen, and that he couldn't do a damned thing to stop it. His kid brother, boisterous, feeling on top of the world. Sure, he'd made sure to peg him down a few times, but during their neural drift, it was what he needed. Raleigh gave Gipsy her light foot and eagerness to jump into battle, not giving the Kaiju a chance to take the first hit.
"Raleigh…" his mouth moved on its own and grief took over, he knew what was going to happen next. He tried to clench his eyes closed, he couldn't see the helplessness in his brother's face again, but he couldn't do anything, the sounds of the Kaiju breathing in the connpod came upon them. His heart stuttered, fear coming in, "Raleigh, Listen-" his mouth screamed out as he was pulled from his position frame by frame, sea air and screeches open to him.
"Wake up!"
His world froze, water suspended in the air before his face. His breath huffed out, sweat pouring off his forehead, trying to figure out what just occurred. His arm shivered, as if now just getting feeling back, and suddenly he felt cold, instead of the constant warmth the drive-suits gave off.
"Yancy!"
It was feminine, that accent back, and it made him remember. He wasn't on the Alaska cost being killed in front of his brother , he was stuck on a floating icicle with a reclusive, one-manned team, woman who had no good news to offer. The scene around his dissolved into nothing as reality came back and he was suddenly blinking down into the stale pillow he had laid down upon.
Yancy's mouth was dry as he tried to swallow, eyes thick and strained with the pounding behind them. That dream – no, memory – haunted him. It wouldn't leave him alone, and all he could do about it was stay awake and stay involved in something to keep the thoughts at bay. It was difficult, not having much to do, or look forward to, besides build his body back up to jaeger standards. He'd hoped for just a blackout sort of sleep, remembering nothing as he woke up, but he wasn't that lucky he supposed.
"...Evening, Mr. Becket" a hesitant voice sounded behind him, making him aware that he really wasn't alone and that someone, who was he kidding, there was only one someone in this god forsaken place, had been trying to wake him up. Turning around, he sadly confirmed it was Mo standing a bit away from the bed, thumbs in her layered jean pockets and rocking back on her heels. Her face was flushed and her nose running more than usual from the cold outside, the longer lengths of hair in the front frazzled and wind blown. She wouldn't meet his eyes, and his stomach dropped as he realized he must have been in enough of a mess for her to actually come in a three foot radius of him.
Guilt crept up on him. He wasn't intentionally trying to be snippy towards her, it was just he didn't like the answers she gave him; albeit being the honest truth. As a Ranger he was always ready to jump up into battle at a moment's notice, always having something needing worked on or reviewed. Here; nothing. White snow, cold weather, and only a broken radio for entertainment.
"Well" Mo started, bringing his attention back to the blond as she stepped back further, "I just wanted to inform you that food's ready…" she hesitated a bit, "I-I already ate, so I'll just hop on up to bed"
Yancy stared, not really knowing what to say. He'd thanked her the past two weeks for food, but now it just seemed like a routine and he knew she knew what he was going to say.
"Yeah…" she scratched the back of her head, "sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Becket, goodnight" she turned on her heel and hurried out of the room, her boots echoing off the wood floor.
Groaning at the predicament, Yancy pulled his hand through his already nappy hair that had grown out, as well as his facial hair that he really wanted to rip off about now. He likes his face cleanly shaven, not a fuzzy mess sticking out of his skin. Taking a deep breath, he called out.
"Mo – wait!"
The footsteps stopped and slowly they headed back towards him, and a bit later Mo stood at the doorway, not going inside this time around, looking at him expectantly. Her body language was tense, and from past experience between their conversations, he knew she was expecting to have to answer a difficult question from him, and inevitably piss him off.
"Look, this…" he waved his hand a bit, around him to the situation they both were in, "I don't mean to give you a hard time, I-" he swallowed again, "you don't ask much… which is a relief" he wasn't sure if he'd had been able to, it probably would have set him off, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he'd ever lay a hand on a lady. "But you have to understand…
I was separated from my brother mid-flight, battling for our lives and others'…I just – I need to get back to the Alaska Shatterdome, to make sure he's safe.. My brother is all I have left. I need to get off this shithole"
He watched as her face scrunched up, a frantic yet hard look in her eyes as her hands groped her pockets, looking for something to squeeze in response to stress.
Raleigh's face flashed across his vision, of a young, cocky twenty-one year old, the exact opposite of the person in front of him. It came to Yancy that maybe he was a bit grateful she didn't remind him of Raleigh, that he would be the one avoiding her instead of the other way around. At least he has a plausible reasoning for the way he'd been acting.
"You have to understand" Mo demanded softly, her lips thinning out as she finally met his blue eyes with her own grey, straightening, "this has been my home my entire life" she ignored the way he gaped at her, his jaw coming down a bit in how crazy that sounded, "this… shithole is all I know" she spat out his own words, her lips twisting down, "it's going to take some time, but we'll get out of here-"
"I don't want you-" Yancy started, not really wanting to get into sentiments or having to bring up how long 'getting out of here' was going to take.
"I've been trying to do it for the last seven years, Mr. Becket" Mo assured, shoving her hands all the way into her pockets, looking down as her bravado wore off, her temper short lived , "I've already made up my mind, it just takes time, and I'm sorry you aren't…happy with it"
"I'm not patient" Yancy bit back a smirk, out how understated that was, like how he wasn't a morning person, "but it's better that you're being straight up with me, woulda' bitten you in the butt later if you'd given me fluff" he smiled when he saw her lip soften and lift upwards, relief showing, "thank you for that, I don't show it much, but I am thankful for honesty"
Mo nodded, her arms relaxing, "It's nice to hear that" her lips twitched up a bit more, as if from a silent joke, "…I'll, uh, take my leave then – but thank you" her face flushed a bit, her hand nearly slapping her face as it shot up to wipe the fluid that was coming out of her nose, "sorry, that's embarrassing, really-" she stopped, and Yancy realized that this was about the time when she'd start rambling off her stress and awkwardness. He wouldn't admit it to her, but even if he didn't listen to the ramblings when he was frustrated with her answers, it was nice to hear a voice other than his, he would have gone crazy in the silence…. Raleigh had always been the talker; Yancy wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to bear the silence after having that for 21 years of his life since his baby brother was born.
"Food, right" Mo nodded to herself, getting back to the original subject, "foods ready whenever you are"
"Mo" he called without realizing it came out of his mouth, watching as she paused and turned back to him, waiting, "how are you getting us out of here if there isn't any communication?"
Mo blinked before a wide smile nearly split her face, "we never got to that, did we?"
"That was probably my fault" Yancy allowed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he swung around on bed to place his feed on the cold wood, stretching.
"I'm not sure if I'd be able to get you to stay inside if I told you right now" she stated honestly, shrugging her shoulders, "…and well, I need sleep… so, tomorrow, come out with me" she nodded, as if to reassure herself, "I'll scrounge up some of my dad's old gear to give you, and I'll fill you in on our…" she fished for the word, looking to the ceiling with squinted eyes before they came back to him, brighter, "our escape plan"
He wanted to know now, wanted to remind her of what he just told her about his patience, but remembered something she'd showed him. Her honest answers and if she was tired she wouldn't be much to get information out of her, or get her in a better mood around him like she was now.
"Yeah, tomorrow" he agreed, already anxious.
"Good" she turned back again to leave, "night, Mr. Becket"
"Yancy" he corrected for the first time, just realizing how tiring that sounds. Only reporters and the Marshal ever called him that and it ate at his nerves, "you can call me Yancy, Mo"
"Yancy" she corrected, smiling a bit more as she patted the door frame, "get some better sleep"
Not really the way I wanted it to go, but it will go more smooth into the next chapter. Hope you enjoyed, please review to let me know your thoughts! Really, you guys are my own Gipsy Danger's Nuclear Reacter (otherwise known to me as, the bomb... not a good joke, hu?).