I don't know Sailor Moon or Pacific Rim.
The cracks in my mind.
III.
"Ready?"
Rei grimaced at the Drivesuit closed tight over her ribs. She'd forgotten how constricting and cumbersome they could be. But making her way gingerly around the Conn-Pod, she barely felt the extra weight. Jason plucked at his own moulded body armour as he turned to her with a wry grin. "Never been in a digital before."
They were in a newer Mark 4 – not christened as of yet – one of the first to discard the bulky nuclear power pack. She'd seen this space many times before in the simulators, and now it was frighteningly solid and real under her gloved hands.
She had to admit, she was pretty nervous for this one. A first Drift always turned her stomach leaden – with excitement, anticipation, or dread, she could not say, and she'd had dozens of first Drifts with a dozen candidates before she was officially slated Low Versatility. She knew what was coming. Never before had she been so anxious about a result, and now she briefly wondered if her expectations for Adonis' brother were running slightly high.
"I do honestly half expect it to fail," she told him quite candidly, her smile tight. "I've failed more times than I've succeeded."
"Hey." He was very graceful and sleek in that unwieldy suit, coming towards her with ease, and she allowed her eyes to linger.
"Most Drifts fail because of fear." His voice was low, just for her. "A lack of trust."
Her gaze followed his hand – half wary, half fascinated – as he fitted it over her heart. "There is no judgement here. I am who I am, and you are who you are. No rejection, no doubt."
His blue eyes were bright and sincere in the low light, and slowly, she nodded. No rejection. She was ready to believe him, and damn what he might find in the maelstrom of her mind. She reached up to cover his hand with her own. "I'm ready if you are."
He grinned boyishly as he attached his helmet and stepped back into the harness; numbly, she did the same.
Here we go.
"Pilots, initiating Neural Handshake," the monotone from LOCCENT started the countdown.
3... 2… Relax Rei, relax… 1…
And then she was plunging down into the white.
A raven-haired woman in a moulded bodysuit, her helmet on her hip, turning at the last minute to show her pale face— cooked carrots pushed to the side of plate— the clink of dog tags as my—his muscles burned with the effort of— a photograph wiped down roughly with the corner of a sleeve—the eyes of the woman who would murder him in a blink for looking at her like— the shadow of a helicopter breaking the sky— well-rounded hips filling his hands as he gasped out— peeling off a wet shirt and feeling the goosebumps pimple his skin— choking on a mouthful of bootleg whisky and feeling it sting the multitude of cuts up and down his arms— the taste of salami from— the grit getting under his fingernails as the ash tumbled out of his hands into the tumbling river—
And he was rushing through her memories like a wind through grass.
He lingered on mirrors, showers, the blooms of sexuality that punctuated youth; they always do. Let him let him let him in show him don't latch on. The sweat dripping down her arms— the red pain of an arm wrenching out of its socket as— Vladivostok melting out of winter like— the green apple cupped in her hand— the weight of her breasts cupped in his— her cheek pressed into a pillow as she matched his rhythm trying to be quiet but failing— She felt his heart in his throat as the spectre of Adonis traipsed in and out of her memories; felt him tremble with bitter indignation as he met her father, as he opened the rooms of her mind she never even visited herself.
And suddenly they were there, in Headspace. She could see his grin behind the glass of his helmet, and she turned with him in one movement so they were both looking out through the face of the Conn-Pod, the crystal clear command centre just beyond.
"How does it feel?"
It was weird, hearing his voice in her comms as well as straight into her head, and he laughed, "I agree."
She could feel his excitement thrumming through him, as if it was sizzling just underneath his skin. He was warm and vivid, golden like Adonis was, yet completely different at the same time. His emotions flooded her like a torrential downpour, and she could scarcely keep up. It was disorienting. It was exhilarating! She wanted to burst out of the Conn-Pod and scream.
—orange flesh bursting bright on his tongue— the searing of the flame as he retracted his curious hand— the dog licking licking licking— unbridled joy when she said I lov—
"Rei."
The cupboard door slamming shut into darkness— She sucked in a sharp breath. These were her memories now.
"Leave the R.A.B.I.T. alone, Rei."
She squeezed her eyes shut. The cupboard door slamming shut— CLICK.
"Rei!"
"Steady on the sync there." LOCCENT filtered through the comms.
"We have it," he acknowledged.
She focused on his voice. The tap of dog tags when he ran laps, the way the tarnished metal glimmered in the light when he opened his door to her, her fingers twining through the thin silver chain…
"Come on, Rei. Stay with me."
Stay with him. The cupboard door slammed distantly in her mind, but she pushed it aside. She took a deep breath. "Yes. My apologies, LOCCENT."
Jason's barely disguised relief flashed through the Drift. He made to lift his hand to his chest, and she found her body initiating and following the movement. Her palm was steady over her heartbeat. The Drift was stable.
"Right, now that you kids have got your shit together—" she recognised Takeshi Pelham's sarcastic monotone, "—let's do this test drive."
Rei's mind immediately conjured up a memory of Pelham, moonshine, and a very drunken and bawdy ballad in the Officer's quarters, causing Jason to chuckle manically.
"He's not very sympathetic."
"As long as he keeps his finger on the kill switch, I don't mind," he winked.
She smiled shakily. Jason's golden confidence coursed through her, like a fifth or sixth cup of coffee, and it was all still a bit disorienting.
He must have felt her hesitation, because he turned with that shit-eating grin plastering his face.
"Let's go."
It was only a test drive, but a successful pairing was still exciting news on base. Only a test drive, Rei reminded herself as she fielded congratulations and the hums of approval from Officers. She thought of her first Drift with Adonis – her first successful Handshake – and remembered being distinctly more… high… for that one.
He should be here.
Jason met her gaze and nodded imperceptibly. He knew what was on her mind, and that was enough. Rei felt the energy drain out of her completely as she rounded the bend towards her room and her bed. She was exhausted physically and mentally. She barely felt the lukewarm water of the shower, and would have happily climbed into bed naked if not for the sake of her room-mate.
She felt strange in her skin. Her body prickled with awareness, as if his golden spirit still possessed her limbs, and it made her want to unzip out of her skin-suit and leave it on the ground with the rest of her clothes. Her fingers trailed along her body contours as if for the first time. The curve of her neck and shoulders, her jutting collarbones, the angle of her hips – he had lingered here appreciatively. She stroked the soft skin inside her thigh, then the sweetly pouting lips of her sex. He had seen her with various partners over the years, but as her fingers delved deeper, the amorphous masses of her past lovers slowly moulded into the face and shape of him. It was his broad arm tightening around her as he bent her at the waist, fitting himself in at a pace that made her keen. She moaned desperately into her pillow.
She knew him in bed, knew his pace and his predilections so vividly, and she trembled for his strong hands to replace her own slender fingers. He would know exactly how to make her come. When was the last time she got laid? Scant moments later she did come, hard, in deep and rhythmic spasms, harder than she had in a long time.
She had never experienced the fabled Ghost-drift – even with Adonis; the shadow of your partner's mind in yours that reverberated long after the Neural Handshake – a curious idea, and dead uncanny to witness. None of her Drifts had ever been strong enough to elicit this side effect, and the intensity of it was like a punch to the gut. She curled onto her side under the covers. Suddenly she understood the possessive nature of the Drift, the overwhelming empathy, the second awareness that was like a mental itch.
She supposed being attracted to your co-pilot only compounded the issue.
She rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling. Maybe that had been the key for her. She didn't flinch when his hooded gaze traversed her exposed body, when he swept through her memories and desires like a tide. It was like she had dared him to watch, a mental strip-tease. She never did that with any previous candidates.
This would have been unprofessional if not for the fact that these sorts of emotional bonds made the connection stronger. But damn, does it make things complicated.
For now, she didn't care. Her body was sore and pliant, like after rough sex, and he was in her brain with his ghost arms enveloping her possessively, and the combination of the two was some kind of twisted pseudo-intimacy that was truly messing with her. But for now, she let herself bask in, drown in it, the golden afterglow of the Drift.
It was disconcerting to watch Kastor and Mina spar after a Drift when they were winding down, knowing that when they disappeared later, it would be to work out frustrations of another sort. Rei found herself studying other pairs to see how they coped. Aside from partnerships related by blood, they couldn't all be having sex, could they?
"Hello."
Her golden shadow dropped down beside her as she sat overlooking the sparring hall, and her cheeks reddened much to her chagrin. What was there to be embarrassed about? The man already knew everything about her, down to the last neural impulse firing off in her stupid brain.
"Hello yourself."
Kastor and Mina had indeed disappeared after their bout, and another pair was taking their turn on the mat. They watched together in silence for a stretch. While their technique wasn't terribly sophisticated, the couple had palpable chemistry, and anticipated each other well.
"They're fucking," Jason said out of the blue.
She stared at him. "How do you know?"
"Look," he pointed, and she tried to follow his sight lines. "When he throws her, his hand fits deep into her waist like he knows the curve. See, he drags over her skin just a bit more than necessary."
She squinted at the couple. They did seem to lock eyes more than platonic partners did. And ah, there it was – when he grasped her high on her ribcage, his thumb feathered over the curve of her breast. "Did you see that?" She sneaked a glance at Jason out the corner of her eye. Her gaze was drawn to a white scar on his jaw— from falling out of a tree— and before she could stop herself, she'd reached out and drawn her finger across the length of it.
"Uh sorry," she made to withdraw, but his hand came up and grasped her wrist, his expression inscrutable.
"I—" he swallowed "—I wanted to come to you. After." He was searching for any kind of reaction from her. "It was almost unbearable."
She knew. Even now, she had the urge to crawl under his skin. "We are— It was… unexpectedly strong."
He smiled crookedly. "Strong Drifts produce strong hangovers." His finger absently traced at the veins in her arm. "My mind is full of you," he said candidly after a pause. "I don't know how else to describe it." There was a question in his touch.
"Then don't." She turned back to the couple on the mat. The woman had gotten the upper hand, pinning her partner down with a straddle, and he didn't seem to be in any hurry to buck her free.
"All I know is that I don't know where I end, and you begin," she finally said. Their minds were still entwined so tightly she didn't know if she wanted him, or if she just wanted the intimacy of the Drift. "It might not be real at all." The intensity of it was immediately bone-chilling.
He tilted his head back to watch her climb to her feet, and she knew he understood her reticence. "I look forward to our next Drift then."
And there it was, the clink of his dog tags – she felt him mentally surround her, his calloused hands finding all of her sensitive points, shattering her to pieces and putting her back together again, and as she forced herself to walk away, she found she wasn't quite sure why she cared so much whether it was real or not.
Author's note
Rating has gone up (obviously) with the sexual tension.
This chapter is heavier on the Pacific Rim jargon, and I hope you were able to follow. It goes without saying by now that I highly recommend this movie, and that del Toro's treatment of the mecha genre was masterful and true.
Looking forward to your feedback as usual.
xx