Analia stood in the center of the SIM lab, the familiar hum of the equipment surrounding her, the soft glow of the consoles casting a faint light across the room. She had been here countless times before, but this time was different. This time, it wasn't Raleigh walking through the door to join her. It wasn't the comforting presence of her long-time partner stepping up beside her for another round of drift training.
This time, it was Jake.
She could hear his footsteps echo down the corridor before the door slid open, and there he was—Jake Pentecost, hands in his pockets, looking a little less sure of himself than usual. There was a slight tension in his expression, the easy-going confidence he usually wore not quite reaching his eyes as they met hers. Analia couldn't blame him for being thrown off. What she had told him earlier was no small thing.
She watched him cross the threshold, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on her, the realization of what was about to happen still settling in.
He stopped a few paces from her, the weight of the moment heavy between them. "So... here we are," Jake said, his voice low, breaking the silence. There was a touch of nervous energy in his tone, something Analia rarely saw in him.
"Here we are," Analia repeated, her own voice steady, though there was a quiet intensity in her eyes. She could sense the hesitation in him, the way he was still trying to wrap his head around the idea of being her new co-pilot. It wasn't a simple request—she knew that. The drift wasn't something to be taken lightly, especially not with someone like her.
Jake shifted his weight, running a hand through his hair. "You know, when you said you wanted to run a drift compatibility test, I thought it was just, you know, standard protocol stuff. Didn't expect it to mean..." He trailed off, the implication of her being his new co-pilot still sinking in.
Analia uncrossed her arms and stepped closer, her eyes locking onto his. "Jake, I wouldn't be here if this was just standard protocol. Raleigh's not available anymore. Nate and his co-pilot bailed. And the truth is, we can't afford to wait. I need a partner in that Jaeger—and right now, you're it."
The words hung in the air, and Analia could see the shift in Jake's posture as the gravity of the situation fully hit him. She didn't sugarcoat things, and she wasn't going to start now. The drift required trust, total mental and emotional synchronization, and that kind of partnership couldn't be forced.
He let out a short, almost disbelieving laugh. "I mean, I knew things were changing, but I didn't think I'd be the one stepping up like this." He looked at her, his brow furrowing slightly. "What about Raleigh? Is he okay with it?"
"It was his idea." Analia shook her head. She could still remember how angry she had been about it at first.
Here's the scene with Analia's warning about Jake possibly seeing his father's last moments in the drift:
Analia stood in the center of the SIM lab, the familiar hum of the equipment surrounding her, the soft glow of the consoles casting a faint light across the room. She had been here countless times before, but this time was different. This time, it wasn't Raleigh walking through the door to join her. It wasn't the comforting presence of her long-time partner stepping up beside her for another round of drift training.
This time, it was Jake.
She could hear his footsteps echo down the corridor before the door slid open, and there he was—Jake Pentecost, hands in his pockets, looking a little less sure of himself than usual. There was a slight tension in his expression, the easy-going confidence he usually wore not quite reaching his eyes as they met hers. Analia couldn't blame him for being thrown off. What she had told him earlier was no small thing.
She watched him cross the threshold, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on her, the realization of what was about to happen still settling in.
He stopped a few paces from her, the weight of the moment heavy between them. "So... here we are," Jake said, his voice low, breaking the silence. There was a touch of nervous energy in his tone, something Analia rarely saw in him.
"Here we are," Analia repeated, her own voice steady, though there was a quiet intensity in her eyes. She could sense the hesitation in him, the way he was still trying to wrap his head around the idea of being her new co-pilot. It wasn't a simple request—she knew that. The drift wasn't something to be taken lightly, especially not with someone like her.
Jake shifted his weight, running a hand through his hair. "You know, when you said you wanted to run a drift compatibility test, I thought it was just, you know, standard protocol stuff. Didn't expect it to mean..." He trailed off, the implication of her being his new co-pilot still sinking in.
Analia uncrossed her arms and stepped closer, her eyes locking onto his. "Jake, I wouldn't be here if this was just standard protocol. Raleigh's not available anymore. Nate and his co-pilot bailed. And the truth is, we can't afford to wait. I need a partner in that Jaeger—and right now, you're it."
The words hung in the air, and Analia could see the shift in Jake's posture as the gravity of the situation fully hit him. She didn't sugarcoat things, and she wasn't going to start now. The drift required trust, total mental and emotional synchronization, and that kind of partnership couldn't be forced.
He let out a short, almost disbelieving laugh. "I mean, I knew things were changing, but I didn't think I'd be the one stepping up like this." He looked at her, his brow furrowing slightly. "What about Raleigh? Is he okay with it?"
"It was his idea." Analia shook her head. She could still remember how angry she had been about it at first.
Jake blinked, surprised. "His idea? Raleigh wanted me to—"
"He trusts you," Analia cut in, her voice firm. "And so do I." She held his gaze for a moment, letting the seriousness of her next words settle in. "But before we do this, Jake, there's something you need to know."
Jake's expression shifted, the curiosity in his eyes quickly replaced by concern. "What is it?"
Analia took a breath, her eyes narrowing slightly as she gathered her thoughts. "The drift... it's more than just sharing thoughts. We're going to be diving into each other's memories, our deepest experiences. And there's a chance," she paused, letting the weight of her words sink in, "you might see your father's last moments. I'm going to do everything I can to keep that from happening, but once we're in the drift, some things slip through."
Jake's face tightened, the color draining slightly. The thought of reliving those moments—of seeing what his father went through, what he never had the chance to fully reconcile—wasn't something he had prepared for. He looked at Analia, the weight of that possibility heavy in his gaze. "You think it'll happen?" he asked, his voice low.
"I'll do my best to keep it from surfacing," Analia promised, her voice steady but gentle. She knew exactly how hard the drift could hit, how memories could bleed together, especially the painful ones. "But if it does... just be ready for it. I'll help you through it, Jake."
For a moment, the room was silent, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. Jake clenched his jaw, forcing a nod. He'd grown up in his father's shadow, haunted by the expectations and the loss, and now there was a chance he'd face it head-on in the most intimate, raw way possible. But he wasn't going to back down.
"Okay," Jake said quietly, his voice tight but resolute. "Thanks for the warning."
Analia nodded, appreciating his readiness despite the turmoil she knew he was probably feeling. "I've been in the drift long enough to know what to expect, and I know how to manage it. But I'm asking you to trust me, just like I'm trusting you."
Jake stood a little taller, his nervous energy shifting into something more grounded. He met her eyes and gave a firm nod. "I trust you."
"Good," Analia replied, stepping toward the SIM pods, her focus returning to the task at hand. "Then let's see what we're working with."
They both suited up, the weight of the neural harness familiar to Analia, though the situation was anything but. Jake stepped into the pod beside her, the tension of their earlier conversation still lingering, but he was calmer now—focused.
"Ready?" Analia asked, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the lab.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Jake responded, though there was still a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
Analia stepped into her pod, the neural interface settling into place around her. She could feel the first tethers locking in, the subtle hum of the connection starting to buzz at the edges of her consciousness. The drift was always a risk—it required trust, mental resilience, and the ability to handle the flood of memories that came with it. But she was ready. And she hoped Jake was too.
As the system powered up, Analia glanced at him one last time. "Engage the drift."
The familiar pull at her mind began almost immediately. She could feel the edges of Jake's consciousness brushing against hers, tentative at first, but quickly deepening as their minds began to sync. His memories surfaced, fragments of his father, his childhood, moments of guilt and pride woven together in a way that felt both heavy and fragile.
And then her own memories began to rise—flashes of Raleigh, of battles fought together, of victories and losses. Analia focused, doing her best to keep control of the drift, to keep the darkest memories at bay.
But she knew the drift had a will of its own.
The connection deepened as the drift began to take hold, the hum of the neural link amplifying in Analia's mind. She felt Jake's presence growing stronger beside her, their thoughts brushing up against each other in a way that was unsettling and familiar all at once. It was always strange at first—the sensation of someone else's memories bleeding into your own—but she had learned to manage it. This time, though, it wasn't just another partner.
It was Jake Pentecost, and he carried the weight of his father's legacy on his shoulders.
She focused hard, keeping her mind sharp and controlled, pushing back against the darkness that always lingered in the drift. She wasn't going to let him slip, not on her watch. But already, she could feel the strain between them. The drift was a raw, brutal thing, and Jake had so many walls up—so many emotions buried deep that she could sense, just out of reach.
They had to get through this. They had to sync.
"Focus, Jake," she said, her voice steady but firm in his mind. "Don't fight it. Let it flow."
Jake's response was silent but palpable. She felt his uncertainty ripple through the connection, flashes of guilt and anger surfacing. Images of his father—the man everyone saw as a hero—started to flicker in the edges of their shared mindspace. Stacker Pentecost's voice echoed, not just in Jake's memory, but in Analia's as well. The weight of Stacker's last sacrifice hung heavy between them.
Analia gritted her teeth, forcing herself to push back the tide of emotion that threatened to rise. "Keep your focus," she warned again, her tone firmer now. "If you let those memories take control, we'll lose the sync."
Jake's mind wavered, and for a split second, she felt it—the sharp pain of loss, the overwhelming surge of emotion as his father's last moments began to slip through the cracks. The flash of light, the feeling of total finality, and—
Analia acted quickly, gripping the neural tether tightly, pulling hard to reel them both back from the edge of that memory. She focused, pressing her own thoughts over his, shielding him from the worst of it.
"Not now," she said sharply, her own breath catching in her throat as she fought to maintain control. "We're not going there."
She could feel Jake's resistance, his desire to push forward, to see what he hadn't before. The weight of curiosity, the need to know what really happened to his father. But that wasn't what this drift was for. This was about trust—about building the connection they needed to pilot together.
Analia leaned harder into the drift, pushing forward the steadier memories—the moments of victory, of determination. The battles she'd fought with Raleigh, the sense of purpose and clarity that came with being in sync with her partner. She flooded the drift with those emotions, trying to drown out the painful echoes of Jake's past.
Slowly, the tension began to ease. Jake's mind responded, falling into rhythm with hers. The emotions softened, the turbulence smoothed out. His memories of his father receded, settling into the background as their synchronization strengthened.
"There you go," Analia murmured through the drift, feeling the connection stabilize. "We've got this. Just trust the process."
Jake's presence shifted, becoming more solid, more steady. She could feel his focus sharpening, his mind aligning with hers. He wasn't fighting it anymore—he was letting the drift do what it was supposed to.
For a moment, Analia allowed herself to breathe, to relax into the connection. The sync was holding. She could feel it now—the way their minds moved together, their thoughts in harmony. This was it. This was what they needed.
Then, without warning, a wave of emotion surged through the link—but this time, it wasn't Jake's. It was hers.
Raleigh.
The memory hit hard. She couldn't stop it from rising. Flashes of battles they'd fought together, the shared moments of trust and vulnerability between them. And more than that—the love she had for him, the depth of their bond both inside and outside the drift. They had been through everything together, and that connection had shaped who she was.
But along with the love came the fear. The fear of losing him.
Analia felt the memory surge to the surface—Raleigh injured in battle, the moments she had been convinced he wouldn't make it. The terror of watching him fight for his life, of realizing that, even after everything they'd been through, she could lose him. The drift couldn't protect her from that reality.
And Jake saw it.
She felt him recoil slightly as Raleigh's image took shape in the drift—the intense connection she had with her husband, the weight of her love and her fear. It was raw, unfiltered, and vulnerable in a way she hadn't meant for Jake to see.
"Analia," Jake's voice broke through the drift, hesitant but filled with concern. "I didn't know you were carrying all of that."
Analia's breath hitched as she forced herself to regain control, pushing the memory down, but the ache of it lingered. She hadn't meant for Jake to see how much Raleigh meant to her, how deep her fear ran. Not just fear of losing him physically in a fight, but of losing him emotionally, piece by piece, as their lives changed. As he became less available, more distant, because of the demands on both of them.
"It's not something I want to talk about right now," Analia said, her voice a little sharper than intended, though there was an unmistakable edge of vulnerability in her tone. "Raleigh and I... we've been through a lot."
That was an understatement. Their relationship was built on trust forged in battle, strengthened by love, and stretched thin by the constant threat of war and loss. Analia had drifted with Raleigh countless times, felt every inch of their minds merge in the deepest way possible. It made them closer than most couples could ever be, but it also meant that the thought of losing him was almost unbearable. And now, she had to face the reality that Raleigh wasn't always going to be there to drift with her.
Jake, seeing all of this, hesitated. He knew they were married. He had always seen Analia and Raleigh as the unbeatable team—the couple who had drifted together, fought together, saved the world together. But seeing this side of her, the fear she carried, was different.
"I didn't realize it was still weighing on you like this," Jake said softly, his tone gentler than before.
Analia let out a slow breath, trying to pull herself back together. "I don't usually let it show," she admitted, though the weight of it sat heavily in her chest. "Raleigh's been with me through everything. The idea that he could be gone—whether physically or just... pulled in different directions—"
She stopped herself, not wanting to go deeper. It wasn't just the fear of Raleigh dying. It was the fear of him being unavailable, of the distance between them growing, and of her having to carry the burden of their shared history alone. And now, here she was, drifting with someone else. That reality felt like a crack in the armor she'd worn for years.
"But that's not what this is about," she said firmly, forcing the emotions down once more. "Right now, it's about us. You and me. If we're going to make this work, you have to be ready to trust me, and I have to be able to trust you."
Jake's presence steadied in her mind, the tension between them starting to ease as he processed what he'd seen. He knew it wasn't just about the Jaeger, or even the battles they'd fought. It was about the emotional weight they both carried.
"I get it now," Jake said quietly, his voice filled with newfound understanding. "I didn't realize how much you were holding back, but I won't push. You can trust me, Analia. I'm here."
Analia let out a slow breath, feeling a flicker of relief. He had seen her vulnerability, and instead of pulling away, he had stepped closer.
"Good," she replied quietly, her voice softening. "Then let's finish this."
The drift steadied, and Analia felt the sync lock into place. Jake's memories no longer overwhelmed the link, and her own pain started to recede, tucked away for now. It was different from drifting with Raleigh, but that didn't mean it wasn't working. The trust was there. The connection was real.
"Not bad," she said, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.
Jake chuckled softly, the tension easing out of his posture. "Not bad yourself, Beckett."
The drift held steady, and as they came out of it, Analia opened her eyes, the soft glow of the SIM lab filtering back into view. She glanced at Jake, who was catching his breath, his expression thoughtful but grounded.
"You're ready," she said, her voice quieter now. The test was over, but she knew this was just the beginning.
Jake nodded, his usual bravado gone, replaced by something more serious. "Thanks, Analia. I won't let you down."
"You'd better not," she replied with a smirk, stepping out of the pod. "We've got work to do."