0015: Where would you rather die? AU, 2025
(For mad the saxon)
Industrial environments stuck out in his memory as more homely than boxy houses and white fences. Some part of him thought of that as troublesome, the other couldn't be bothered to try and suss out the deeper implications of being more relaxed in the presence of sparks and steel than cushions and family pictures.
He stood out like a sore thumb, black suit, black tie and a pinstripe white dress shirt. He had the look of a corporate lackey, all he was missing was a sign on his back that said "kick me, I'm responsible for killing the Jaeger Program". He wasn't, but he wouldn't blame the guys working on the wall to chuck a beam at him.
He walked through the somewhat busy environment, ignoring the odd looks he received from the winded workers carrying tools and materials around the yard. The wall was coming along nicely, the half completed gap, once so wide, was growing narrow. "Hey!" Yancy turned in response, shoving his hands into his pockets. He had nothing to hide, but the action occurred like second nature. A dumpy man made his way over to him, he had something of exasperated expression on his face, like this wasn't the first time someone wandered onto the site without permission. "You're not supposed to be here, man, this is a work zone," The man said.
"I noticed," Yancy replied. "I'm lookin' for someone, you might work with him."
"Depends on which quadrant he's working on. If he's here, maybe I've seen him," The man explained. "We don't exactly work in teams, if you get me. What's his name?"
Yancy nodded. "Name's Raleigh Becket, he's-"
"That washout of a jockey?" The guy started laughing. "Oh, man, he just took a job on the top of the wall on the other side." Yancy looked upward, neck craning to see the topmost part of the wall. The news was always reporting, albeit sporadically, how many men and women fell from the top of the wall. Working conditions for the Wall of Life Program were abysmal, but no one seemed to be in a rush to do something about improving it. "Can I get up there?"
"Hell, no, not unless you're a worker," The man snorted. "You think the city wants to get sued because we let some authorized fogey up on the wall?"
"To be honest, I didn't think they cared," Yancy grinned.
"Well—uh, they don't, but you know, protocol and all," He said.
"Yeah, I got ya," Yancy replied. "When is his shift over?"
"Not for a long time."
"Can you be more specific?"
"Maybe six hours," The man said. "But we're having lunch in an hour, so, you might see him then. Mess hall's in this building." He pointed the structure right behind Yancy. The older Becket studied the front. It was one of the factories they used to mass produce Mark-1 Jaeger replacement parts; there used to be dozens of them, but they all started closing down around the same time the Shatterdomes were decommissioned. Funny how much can change in five years and four months. Yancy placed a hand on the man's shoulder, ignoring the small plume of dust that rolled from his body. "Well, thanks for the heads up," Yancy moved past him, prepared to lay himself across the back seat of his jeep and wait for the lunch hour. "Hey, stranger!" The guy moved to catch up with him. Yancy raised an eyebrow, but made no move to interact with him any further. "Just who are you to that jockey, anyways?"
"I'm the washout's older brother," Yancy stared him square him in the eye, daring him to comment. The worker looked astonished for about a moment then started to grin. "Well, I guess it's true what they say," He said.
"Yeah, and what's that?"
"Jaeger pilots who fight together, washout together."
"Oh," Yancy frowned. "I was hoping for something a little cleverer." The man stopped dead in his tracks, Yancy picked up his pace, not caring if he hurt the man's feeble ego. Pentecost was right, the public was fickle.
Yancy waited in the jeep for over an hour, dismissing anyone who asked him to leave the property with a PPDC badge or an even threat for those who were quick to remind him the badge meant about as much as waving the arm of a Jaeger in their face.
He fiddled with the instruments, his hand occasionally moving to touch the band hanging next to his dog tags on the chain around his neck. He rested his head against the steering wheel and closed his eyes.
The sound of the lunch bell startled him from sleep.
Groggy, he spied a look at his digital watch and groaned. It was two in the evening, way past the usual lunch hour and way past waiting time Pentecost gave him to recruit his brother. The Marshall was probably on his way back to Hong Kong at this point. Pulling himself out the car, Yancy strolled across the yard toward the building the guy pointed him to earlier.
Like he said, everyone was inside eating or watching television. Trouble was everyone looked like a blob of grays and muted browns; finding his brother in this crowd would be like trying to find the exact number of freckles on his back. Some men looked up at him and frowned, their demeanor shifting to defensive at the sight of his suit. "Hey, guys," He waved. "I don't mean to be rude and interrupt lunch, but anyone seen Raleigh Becket?"
"The-"
"Yeah, the same," Yancy interjected before he could hear those three dreaded words. A pair of hands pointed to the far end of the table in the center, some leaned forward enough that the man being pointed at was revealed. Raleigh Becket wasted no time playing stupid, stepping away from table he grabbed the strap of a tool belt around his waist and walked forward. Yancy played it cool, keeping a straight face as his brother closed the distance between them. "What do you want?" He asked.
"I need to talk to you, it's a matter of urgency," Yancy answered in his most professional tone. "Got someplace we can talk in private?" Raleigh nodded and brushed past him; Yancy followed him, ignoring the murmurs that were beginning to rise around them. They fell back in sync, a shoulder's width apart.
"Nice suit."
"Thanks, I guess," Yancy replied. "It's a rental."
Raleigh led him across the yard into an isolated corner. "Step into my office, old man," The sarcasm appeared to fly over his brother's head; Raleigh watched as Yancy appraised the nook with a disappointed expression. "Some office," Yancy muttered.
Raleigh stood just a few feet away from him, arms folded. "So."
"So…," Yancy parroted. Raleigh stared him down for a while longer. His frown melted away to reveal a smile.
"Yance."
"Rals." Raleigh raced up to his brother and pulled him into a hug. Yancy grit his teeth against the pressure on his right arm as it was pressed against his side and hit his brother on the back with his left arm. "Ow, you sonofabitch, get off me!" Some part of him was laughing, the other wanted gnaw his brother's arms off for squeezing him. Raleigh pulled away from his brother and steadied him. "Your shoulder still hurts?"
"Only when I'm around you," At his brother's immediate frown, he added, "That was a joke, Rals. It's fine." He ruffled his hair and moved to sit down on the bench across from them. "How've you been? I haven't seen you since- actually I don't think I saw you at all when I woke up-"
"After we were dismissed I kinda left," Raleigh joined him on the bench, adjusting the bag hanging on his right arm.
"Yeah, I thought you died," Yancy chuckled dryly. "They had me sedated when they thought I would break the spinal halo trying to get up."
Yancy watched his brother duck his head as he leaned forward. "I'm- I'm so sorry about that, man," Raleigh said. "I messed up, I wasn't- I wasn't thinking."
Yancy knocked his loafers against his brother's boots. No one appeared to be thinking after Gipsy Danger was taken out of the fight, him especially. He spent the better part of his recovery lying on his back, delirious, unable to run from nightmares and suffering the silence on the other end of his mind. He couldn't stand hole in his head where his brother should've been and no one would tell him where he was. The nature of their disconnect during the Drift apparently made it hard to pinpoint the problem, but Dr. Lightcap, however, was sure the issue with him more emotional than physical. The only real constant that played opposite of what was five years of absolute hell was Dr. Flanagan.
"I'm not gonna lie; I hated you for a really long time. You kept sending checks in the mail for the medical bills, but no one could find you. They kept me in the dark for a long time about our status until I was able to move around without breaking something," He sighed. "I've only known where you were for the last six months, but I got caught up in… other things."
"Do you still hate me?" Raleigh asked. "'Cause if you do, this reunion is gonna get real awkward."
"Nah, it takes way too much energy to hate you," Yancy sighed with a weary grin. "I can focus my attention on hating Kaiju, they don't care."
The response didn't exactly fill Raleigh with confidence. "How have things been on your end, kid? They treat you nice here?"
"Everyone hates Jaeger pilots, Yance," Raleigh scowled. "Like everything happening is our fault. The pay here is for crap, everyone treats me like dirt and I don't sleep. What about you?"
"My arm hurts every time it rains, which appears to be a lot these days, I don't sleep either. Ronnie- I mean, Dr. Flanagan still oversees my physical therapy, and until yesterday, we were both grounded," Yancy recounted, rubbing his shoulder. "I think there's more, but that's all I can think of on short notice."
"Uh, what do mean, until yesterday we were both grounded?" Raleigh parroted as Yancy stood up. "What's goin' on, Yance?"
"I'm not sure how up to date you are on current events, Rals, but things… well, they aren't good," He said.
"How do you mean?" Raleigh inquired. "I mean, I know things ain't been "great", but it's not horrible, right?"
"Pentecost would rather you hear it from the horse's mouth, but considering the decisions of the United Nations, he needs every Jaeger pilot he can get his hands on, and that includes us," Yancy explained.
"I'm guessing we weren't his first choice?" Raleigh grinned sourly. "He was the one who grounded us."
"Actually, we were," Yancy answered. There was something about his expression that spoke volumes about what he wasn't telling him. "Yance, what-"
"Look, whatever your opinions are on the Jaeger Program, from one pilot to another, I'm asking you: Would you be willing to come back?"
"Yance, I only left because I was dismissed," Raleigh said. "I took this job I knew they wouldn't support us once we were grounded. Yeah, there were other reasons, but I never left because I lost faith in the program... not completely anyway."
"Is that a yes?"
"Yeah, that's a yes. But, I gotta talk it over with the boss."
Raleigh's talk with his boss took a grand total of two minutes. Sitting in the jeep, Yancy fiddled with the chain around his neck until he saw his brother jogging toward him, a self-satisfied look on his face. The passenger door swung open, Raleigh was in the seat before the door was fully closed.
As the door slammed, Yancy took a moment to glance outside the passenger window. "You sleep with the guy's daughter or somethin'?" Yancy asked, only half-joking.
"More like I smashed his face into a can of beer," At his brother's laughter, Raleigh pointed toward the yard exit. "Let's get out of here before we're arrested, huh?"
"Sure," Yancy's jeep tore out of the yard as Raleigh's boss stumbled out of his tent, screaming bloody murder at the departing vehicle.
Author's Note: "Yancy Lives" attempt 01 complete. This is a smaller part of another drabble series I've been toiling over because I have too many Pacific Rim plot bunnies jumping out of my closet to be ignored.