0010: Memory, 2025

It wasn't a deliberate choice on her part; the moment she glimpsed it in his head, her mind latched onto it and followed the rabbit. In this instance it was a car, an old Chevy barreling down a strip of road populated by the lights of other cars. Yancy and Raleigh were all smiles and hollers as the youngest slapped the dashboard repeatedly as an outlet for his excitement. "You break my car and you're paying for it," She heard Yancy meagerly warn his brother.

They roll up into the parking lot of a bar, a place they frequented since before enlisting in the Jaeger Program. Everyone's there to greet them once they enter, the rapturous crowd swamps them immediately, everyone moving in for a hug. Their mother appears out of the back of the crowd and was sandwiched between her sons in the strongest hug they could muster while being mindful of her condition.

A battle of emotions swelled up around her; Yancy's struggle to keep a straight face and not breakdown as his mother cradled his face and whispered how proud she was both of them; Raleigh's absolute giddiness as he grabs his mother and spins her around like a bride on her wedding day. The saviors of Los Angeles were hometown heroes of Anchorage and the envy of every ten year old boy in the world.

The rest of the memory is a haze of alcohol and smiles. They returned home with a weary mother in need of rest and head full of bubbles. "I'm never drinking again," Yancy mutters happily to himself as he carries their mother into the house. "Yeah, you always say that," Raleigh burps, closing the door behind him.

Yancy hushes him and strides into the living room. He lays their mother on the couch and drapes his jacket over her. "When are we up?"

"In five hours. We should probably head back to the dome."

"I can't even see straight, Rals. We'll go first thing. I need some sleep, like, right now."

"Fine, don't blame me if Pentecost gives us the fourth degree."

"Duly noted, I won't blame you." They shuffle up the stairs to their bedroom; the smell of childhood ran rampant; toys, adolescence, growing pains; bunk beds, twin beds and separation. Raleigh was the first hit the bed, Yancy is next. The moment he closes his eyes, she realizes the memory isn't from the first, but the latter. His eyes open again and the early morning sun is flooding the curtained windows. Rolling out of bed, Yancy gives his brother a shake and is the first to head downstairs to check on their mother.

"Mom, hey, I don't mean to cut and run, but we gotta get moving or our CO will have our asses in a sling," He flops down on the edge of the couch and waits for her to respond.

"Mom?" He nudges her, rocking back against the leg against his lower back. "Ma," His hand reaches over to smooth her hair back; the tips of his fingers touch her hair and settle on her face.

It takes a minute for him to realize the cold biting his fingers isn't from the temperature of the room, but the lack of heat from her body. "Ma?" Yancy pulls the jacket off her shoulders and rolls her onto her back; Dominique Becket's eyes are at half-mass, her mouth slightly open. "Mom?" He checks her pulse, fingers pressed against her neck. There isn't a even a beat, his fingers begin to shake as he moves in close and presses his head to her chest.

Nothing, not even a murmur. "Ma- Raleigh," He rises from the couch and stumbles backward. "Raleigh… Raleigh," He turns in a circle, hands on his hand. "Raleigh!" He's already moving toward the coffee table situated beside the left side of the couch. The phone fumbles in his hand; he doesn't feel himself dial the number.

"Raleigh!" His voice sounds strangled, unwilling to dislodge itself from the middle of his chest and out of his throat. "Raleigh, get down here, now!"

"911, what's your emergency?"

He can't speak.

When she opens her eyes, the events of yesterday and the day before come rushing back to her. There's no Conn-Pod, there's no Drift, there's no Gipsy Danger. Her bedroom wall is staring her in the face. Confused, she rises a hand wipe her face. It's wet from crying, of course. Rising from the bed, she walks toward the door. It's loud and lacks the silence she needs to creep out undetected, but everyone appears to be up and even odder, Raleigh's door is wide open. Descending the brief flight of stairs she crosses the short distance between the two doors and walks into the bedroom.

The picture is lying on the floor when Mako enters the room. It's old, wrinkled from use and handle, but the affection for the moment it captured remains as strong as she remembered seeing it. Raleigh is somewhat taken aback to find her sitting on the bed and staring at the old photo like he has for over five years.

Yancy Becket wasn't someone she'd ever get to know; but the memories he shared with her through the Drift: Twenty five years' worth of misery, happiness and fortitude, he figured it would be enough to at least give her an impression. She glanced up from the photograph, not the least bit surprised to find him standing there. "I didn't mean to pry, but I had a dream about this picture," She said.

Raleigh's brow furrowed. "A dream?"

"Or I remembered what your brother saw," She shakes her head, uncertain. "Is that normal?"

Raleigh shrugs. "I think; it's been a while, but my brother and I, we would remember certain things from different perspectives and never realize we were seeing through each other's eyes until a while later."

She hands the photograph to him when his hand moves to take it without thinking. "This picture- it was taken after your first fight in Los Angeles?"

Raleigh nodded. "Yeah, we got pretty wasted that night," He recounted quietly. "The best part is that mom didn't even seem to care; she was just happy that her kids were alive."

Mako smiled forlornly, the memory of her family resurfacing. "You had a very happy family."

Raleigh shrugged. "Mostly. Dad cut out on us during the thick of it, our sister went with him. Mom got sick during training, but she still supported us right until she died. It was the best you could ask for given the circumstances, really."

Mako nodded. Taping the picture back onto the wall, Raleigh readjusted the bag on his shoulder before sitting it on the table in front of him.

"Do you have a home to go back to in Anchorage, Raleigh?"

"I might. It just depends on whether or not she'd let me come back."

"How so?"

"It's a long story; to be brief, last I saw of my family - last I saw of home - it was at our mother's funeral. Jazmine and dad, they showed up long enough to see her buried, but kinda disappeared after that. We tried looking for them, but it doesn't look like they wanna to be found. Yancy and I had decided to focus on piloting from then on out."

"This Jazmine- she is your sister?"

"Probably the only family I've got left now if dad isn't dead," Raleigh remarked. "And looking back now, we should've done more to include her in our lives, but we didn't. I wouldn't blame her for being angry if that's why she never reached out to contact me after Yancy died."

"It wasn't your fault, you were both grieving."

"Maybe. But, it's just something we - I have to live with," Raleigh sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure you're tired of hearing about my sob stories. You hungry?"

She nods and takes his hand when he offers it.

Mako doesn't have the heart to pry any further into the matter of his family. She assumes she'll see it all sooner or later should she ever latch onto the memory again. She follows Raleigh into the mess hall, the weight of his brother's helplessness still hanging on her chest.