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The ocean around their two Jaegers is calm. Too calm.
They were told to prepare for contact two minutes ago, but the only thing Santiago can see around is Miller brothers’ Ironhead Warrior up to his waist in the water, ready to fight. Frankie is all sharp focus in his head and on the other side of the Conn-Pod, their connection almost effortless, but the uneasy edge starts to resonate between them through the Drift. It won’t be an easy battle, they both already know it. At least they’re far enough from the coastline that they don’t need to worry about LA’s safety. As long as they manage to keep the Kaiju away from the city, that is.
The Kaiju’s codename is Centipede, a massive Category IV with – according to the acquired data, because they haven’t seen it yet – bigass pincers and long, segmented body that ends with three heavy tails. The monster keeps close to the ground on short, clawed legs, submerged in the shallow water despite its enormous size. It’s close, it must be, but the surface of the ocean is flat as far as Santiago and Frankie can see when they turn Dragonfly Red to look around, the Jaeger responding easily to their synchronized movements.
(“Did you guys thought about what you wanna call her?” Tom asked him a few years ago. They were standing in front of a brand new Mark-3, leaner than most others and just as huge, the personnel bustling around them.
She wasn’t ready back then, not yet, but would be soon. Already assigned to him and Frankie, she was impressive even in her unfinished state, her hull a deep, scarlet shade.
“Yeah, we came up with something,” Santiago said then, voice casual. He kept his head tilted up and turned to the Jaeger, watching Tom out of the corner of his eye. “Dragonfly Red. Redfly for short. If that’s fine with you, Marshal Davis.”
Santiago remembers Tom stared at him incredulously for a long moment before he sighed and shook his head. Santiago knew it didn’t mean no, but you’re crazy and the first thing I do as a Marshal should be kicking you out of PPDC.
Tom couldn’t be in the field with them anymore. Redfly still could, though. In a way.)
The shadow moves in the water around them. The dark, long shape, passing too quickly to keep eyes on it.
“Loccent, talk to us,” Santiago hears Benny through the commlink in the cockpit. “We can't see shit.”
"We have its signature next to yours,” Yovanna, their LOCCENT Mission Controller, replies. “Millers, on your left.”
It’s not there though, not anymore. Barely visible in the water, the shadow speeds up, getting closer to Frankie and Santiago in a wide arch now.
“It's rounding us,” Will observes warily.
“Rangers, you need to strike first,” Tom instructs them from the Command Center. He’s in full PPDC Marshal mode. “Make it show itself.”
Santiago knows what they’re going to do even before Frankie voices their shared thoughts to the other team. “Warrior, crossfire formation. We’ll go for it and push it your way.”
“Let’s cage that bitch between us,” Santiago adds when Millers confirm they’re ready. “Loccent, position?”
“It’s too fast,” Yovanna answers, distressed. “The visuals show it all around you…”
A high-pitched screech cuts her off. Centipede shoots out of the water right next to Redfly and slams into the Jaeger, the sharp ends of its legs clenching in the metal and tails swinging. In a well-trained, reflexive move they try to hold it off and fail, too slow. The open jaws flash blue; the monster bites into Redfly’s head with a sickening crunch and the rig pulls, sharp and sudden, at Santiago’s spine.
“It went through the hull!” Frankie yells beside him. “Disengage, now!”
Santiago scrambles to get out of the harness and jumps to the floor panel just before Centipede rips out a part of the Conn-Pod along with Santiago’s side of the rig that he’s been connected to three seconds ago. The Jaeger still moves though, even without him, and Santiago grabs at the edges that he can reach and just holds on. If he lets go now, he’s going to get smashed against the Conn-Pod’s remaining walls or fly out through the gap in the hull, straight into the ocean. The system blasts alarms as the Kaiju chitters and roars outside, and Frankie pilots by himself.
It feels like it lasts for much longer than it probably does. Santiago has no idea what’s going on, the sounds loud in his ears, the Jaeger moving sharply and shaking with the force of the blows. After what felt like an hour and was probably only a few intense minutes, Dragonfly Red slows down, and Santiago can finally look through the hole in the Conn-Pod. Bleeding blue into the water, Centipede watches their Jaeger from where it backed away, then turns around and submerges, the segments disappearing under the surface one after another. To Santiago’s confusion, Kaiju doesn’t attack again – it swims away instead, ignores the still, silver figure of Ironhead Warrior in its way and heads towards the tall buildings on the horizon. Towards the city.
Frankie’s voice sounds strained in the sudden silence. “Millers?”
“They’re both disengaged,” Loccent’s answer comes immediately. “We have the vitals, but they’re not responding.”
“All right.” Frankie turns his head slightly to shout in Santiago’s direction. “Hold on.”
Santiago does, that’s the only thing he can do as Frankie moves them towards Warrior, slowing down to a stop right before its unmoving figure. He aligns the Jaegers with impressive precision, and only then hits the button that disengages him from the rig.
Taking his helmet off, Santiago gets up and moves quickly to his co-pilot’s side. “Jesus, Frankie,” he says, pulling his friend to the floor panel and helping him with his own helmet. “Who do you think you are, fucking Stacker Pentecost?”
Frankie sends Santiago a pointed look and doesn’t answer, but the dark red rim above his lower eyelid and blood trickling slowly from one of his nostrils speak for him. He’s steady on his feet though, and pushes Santiago towards the exit hatch with enough strength for him to stop worrying. With barely any distance between Redfly and Warrior, aligned as they are, all it takes for Frankie and Santiago to move from one Jaeger to another is a long, careful step. They get Warrior’s hatch open and slip inside the Conn-Pod.
“What are you doing here?” Will greets them sharply from where he kneels on the other side of the Pod. Benny sits propped up against the wall next to him, their helmets off, and Santiago feels his legs go weak with the relief of seeing them alive and mostly well.
“Redfly’s down. Half of our cockpit’s gone,” he explains quickly as he falls to his knees beside Will, unable to stop himself from reaching out and laying a hand on the man’s armored shoulder. “Benny?”
“’M okay,” Benny grits out, but he looks like he’s going to be sick any moment now. “Something hit me in the head, I blacked out for a moment. The fucker went straight for the Conn-Pods.”
A heavy silence is Benny’s only answer, all of them unwilling to admit that they should have seen it coming. It’s clear by now that the Kaiju are adapting. Rapidly, too. And yet here they are, both Jaegers fucked up with one well-aimed attack. They need to figure this shit out, and seems like Frankie is already on it.
“Loccent,” he speaks through the commlink in his Drivesuit. “Benny’s got a concussion, send med evac to Dragonfly. Santiago and I are taking Warrior.”
All of their heads snap towards Frankie, Benny groaning at the movement, but Yovanna is the one that asks. “You want to Drift again, Frankie?”
“I have to, unless you have another idea.”
“Don’t,” Tom cuts in through the comms, his voice firm. “That’s an order, we don’t know how piloting alone has affected your nervous system. We can’t risk losing you. We’re sending another team.”
Santiago curses under his breath. “By the time they deploy another Jaeger, Centipede will have reached the city.”
“Okay.” Frankie’s eyes linger on Santiago hesitantly. “So we have one operational Jaeger and two Rangers that are still able to pilot.”
And, well, fuck. It’s not that the idea haven’t crossed Santiago’s mind already – the moment he saw the state Benny’s in, he suspected it might be their only option. And Frankie knows why it’s a bad idea, of course he does, he sees Santiago pining over Will both in the Drift and outside of it. But he also knows Santiago’s feelings don’t mean shit when there’s a Kaiju on it’s way to the coastline.
Santiago turns his head to meet Will’s calm gaze. The older Miller doesn’t look surprised at all.
“You think we can do this?” Santiago asks.
They’ve known each other for almost twenty years, been friends for not much less than that. The teamwork between their two Jaegers is exceptional. Whenever they switch partners for practice in the Combat Room, they work together well too, even if Will kicks his ass more often than not.
They are compatible, Santiago’s sure of that. They’re both experienced Rangers, and with the pressure of half of the city getting destroyed if they don’t, they can deal with all the shit they will see and feel in the Drift. Santiago supposes he can deal with the shit that will probably fuck up everything between them later. He can handle learning firsthand that Will feels nothing beyond respect and friendship for him. Handle Will pitying him, even.
“We can,” Will tells him, quiet but sure. “We have to.”
“Good.” Frankie slips his shoulders beneath Benny’s arm. “I’ve got him. Go strap in.”
Will lingers to help pull Benny to his feet, though. Once upright, the younger Miller somehow manages not to throw up and send his brother and Santiago a steady look. “Watch your six, yeah?”
“You watch yours,” William answers, squeezing Benny’s shoulder, but Santiago recognizes the hard set of his jaw and slightly furrowed brows. Beneath his professional composure, Will has a hard time going to battle without his brother.
“And don’t throw up all over Redfly,” Santiago adds. Benny chuckles, but doesn’t promise he won’t.
“Go,” Frankie hurries them up and, exchanging one last look with Santiago, pulls Benny towards the hatch.
“I’ll take left.” Santiago comes up to Benny’s side of the cockpit, putting on his helmet. Like Will, he’s on the right side in his own Jaeger, but the supposes taking a different place in the rig is the least of his worries now.
“Loccent,” Will speaks through the comms in the control panel as they both take their places and start attaching themselves to the harness. “Change of plans, Santiago and I are taking Warrior. Initiate neural handshake for us when we’re ready.”
Tom’s voice is less doubtful than Santiago would have expected. “You think you’re Drift compatible?”
“Compatible enough,” Will replies with certainty he has no right to.
“Santiago?”
“Only one way to find out, Marshal,” Santiago agrees, adjusting the harness to his height and getting comfortable in Benny’s place. He knows it’s more than risky without a trial run, going straight to combat in the first Drift even more so, but they don’t really have a choice. “All right, let’s do it.”
There’s a beat of silence on the other side, and then Tom speaks again. “Prepare for neural handshake.” It sounds less like an order and more like we count on you two, Santiago notices.
“Initiating neural handshake,” Yovanna says, the AI starting the countdown in the background. “Good luck, boys.”
“Thanks.” Santiago turns to look at Will and feels the ice-cold weight settle in his chest. “Sorry about the shit you’re gonna see.”
“Yeah,” Will sighs. “Me too.”
Santiago nods in acknowledgement, trying to enjoy the last moment before his friendship with Will turns into an awkward mess, the last time he’s able to hold Will’s gaze. They have a job to do, millions of people to protect. It’s on Will and him now, and it’s bigger than any of them. If the ease of each other’s company, the comfort of their usual closeness, is the price for it – so be it.
He needs to let it go. He needs to focus. Santiago closes his eyes…
“Neural Interface Drift initiated,” the AI announces.
…and they Drift, the strongest, most recent memory rising to the surface, pulling both of them in.
It’s the same place, Ironhead Warrior’s Conn-Pod, just the other side. Will’s side. Benny’s here, to his left and in his mind, and Santiago feels the echo of younger Miller’s courage resonating within his brother. His thoughts are in full-on combat mode, bright and fierce and violent. Benny loves it, loves fighting.
Will is calm, focused, waiting. Santiago sees what he sees – a slender silhouette of Dragonfly Red against the blue-gray sea and pale sky, a shadow moving in the water around the Jaegers.
“It’s too fast,” Yovanna’s voice reaches through the comms. “The visuals show it all around you…”
“William’s out of alignment,” Santiago hears present Yovanna say, words distant and quiet under the steady noise in his head.
Centipede cannons out of the water, going straight for Redfly’s head, and twists its body between the two Jaegers, too fast for either team to react in time. Will’s only thought – his, or Benny’s, or just theirs – is to brace for impact before Kaiju’s three massive tails hit Ironhead in quick succession, almost throwing it off balance. The Pod shakes with each blow – once, twice, thrice – and with the last one, metal grinds against metal somewhere above them, crashing down, and -- silence. Abrupt and empty, silence where Benny’s fiery presence should be, silence and fear, and blinding anger—
And then Will lets go, the Drift turning into the quiet, steady stream.
“He’s stabilizing,” Yovanna informs with an audible relief, and Santiago tunes the sounds from Loccent out after that.
His own memories are the same as always when he drifts. His family, and school, and more or less important people. Same old good and bad shit, flowing freely. Countless women and some men without names. Frankie and Tom and Benny and Will, jungles and desserts and gunfire. Monsters, after that, first learning how to kill them, and then killing them. And Will, always Will, nothing new except the fresh embarrassment, the unsettling acceptance of him finding out about things he was never supposed to.
The image shifts to the one Santiago doesn’t recognize. A man and a woman – Will and Benny’s parents, he understands through the Drift. Kindness and love, tough love sometimes, the woman pregnant at first and then in a hospital bed later, holding a baby. Short and blurry moments with few clear details, the way the oldest memories usually look.
School afterwards, many different people, friendships and confusion and anger as the time passes. First kiss, and another, also the first. Lots of sex and lots of joy, some harsh words and some dull heartache.
A lot of Benny throughout the years, a constant between all other memories. Benny as a scrawny kid with a black eye after his first fight, as a teenager, as a man with a rifle, all of it tinged with pride, fondness and unconditional love of an older brother.
Military then, places and events Santiago remembers, just from another point of view. Benny, Tom and Frankie, and himself, face pale and one leg of his pants soaked with blood, Will’s concern for him. Santiago’s certain it’s the second time he got shot in the knee, less because of what he sees, more because of the numbers imprinted on most of Will’s memories. They feel heavier, somehow, the higher the count gets. Will’s sixteenth mission. A bullet in his shoulder – a third time getting shot. A dead man with a hole in his head – forty three, Will’s hand on Tom’s shoulder, blood running through his fingers – five. Benny in a Jaeger and in Will’s head as they drift together for the first time. A corpse of spider-like Kaiju, his and his brother’s sixth victory.
A too bright image of a sleeping woman with a ring on her finger appears next, out of order, maybe because it still hurts. And then her again, eyes open this time and filled with tears. More heartache.
After that, two similar memories that Will doesn’t latch on, letting them come and pass. Missing seconds between rising rage and sudden violence, followed by a wave of shame.
A shift, sharper than the ones before, and Santiago sees himself again. It’s him from a few hours ago, walking in front of Will, with Frankie and Benny on their left sides. All four of them already in Drivesuits and on their way to their respective Conn-Pods. Santiago watches through Will’s eyes as his gaze lingers on the back of his own head, his shoulders, slides down to his waist and ass in quiet appreciation that ends with a hard nudge to his side and an impatient “Come on, bro, you with me?” from Benny.
In the next memory, William’s alone with him on a metal walkway, one of the Shatterdome’s highest levels that provides the perfect view of both their Jaegers. They sit side by side, leaning against the cold wall, until Santiago-in-the-past rearranges and lays back with his arms crossed behind his head, falling asleep in seconds. He’s not close to the edge, but the walkway’s rather narrow, the noise and crowd of the Shatterdome far below them. Will stays with him, making sure he doesn’t kill himself in his sleep, a strange want tugging at something inside him every time his eyes skim over Santiago’s face.
The scenery changes, the peace of the walkway ending sharply when Santiago hears himself laugh straight into his – Will’s – ear. Clearly still high on adrenaline and fresh victory after a particularly hard battle, he wraps an arm around Will’s shoulders and feels the line of his own body pressed against his side, breath tickling his neck. Feels the warmth that travels down Will’s spine and settles low in his belly.
There are brief flashes, small details taken out of context, not exactly worth remembering. Santiago in his new Redfly Team jacket, his teasing smile, a random hug between the two of them. Him being pissed off, but hiding it pretty well – Will sees it only because he pays attention, wonders about the reason. And, despite it’s fucking hard to believe, Santiago realizes that’s exactly the way he looks at Will, the same way he clings to the moments they share. Who the fuck knows, maybe he is mistaking the longing and desire for his own, echoing in Will’s mind and memories through the Drift. But there are no secrets here, Santiago knows that. No lies and no doubt. Only the truth.
“Pilot to Jaeger connection complete,” the AI states coldly.
The flow of the memories stops, and Santiago finds himself back in the Conn-Pod. A wave of recognitionunderstandingdisbelief washes over him, and it doesn’t even matter whether it comes from him or Will. In the Drift, it all belongs to both of them.
He looks to his right, sees Will already looking back at him. He’s here, in his Jaeger, in full steel gray Drivesuit, strong and deadly, and so, so fucking beautiful. Santiago wants to kiss him senseless.
“Later,” Will promises, just a little bit breathlessly, a shadow of a smile on his lips.
Santiago can do nothing else but grin back at him. There will be later.
“Hemisphere calibrating,” the AI offers, and they move Warrior away from Redfly, slowly but surely, one leg after another to feel out the Jaeger together. To feel out their connection. Will rises an open palm, chest-high, and Santiago places a closed fist in it without hesitation. The movement’s smooth, synchronized – not as seamless as it is with Frankie, not as William’s is with Benny, Santiago knows, but smooth. The bond feels strong. Feels good.
“Calibration complete.”
“Neural handshake nice and steady,” Yovanna confirms. Santiago can hear the smile in her voice.
“Let’s get that fucker,” Will says, his calm determination the only thing in Santiago’s head except his own focus.
The first thing they do once they catch up to Centipede right before it reaches the Miracle Mile is rip all three of its tails off.
Santiago leans on the cold railing, eyes on Dragonfly Red standing in her slot. The tech team is working on her damaged head already, sparks flying down, voices echoing through the bay. Ironhead Warrior’s two slots down but still within sight, also getting the attention he requires. The view is good from up here, and despite the post-battle fatigue he feels, Santiago doesn’t mind waiting. The apologetic look Will sent him once they reached the Shatterdome after the fight was enough for Santiago to not feel disappointed and tell him to go ahead.
There are footsteps approaching on the metal walkway now, proving he’s waiting in the right place. Will stops right next to him, a steady presence by Santiago’s side, just like he was in his mind earlier.
Santiago shifts his weight to his left leg, very conscious that the space between him and Will narrows down by two inches. “How is he?”
“He’s got a headache and keeps throwing up, but he’ll be fine soon enough,” Will says, a fond undertone clear in his voice. “They’re gonna keep him at the med bay for the night. Frankie?”
Santiago straightens, finally tearing his eyes away from his Jaeger and turning his whole body towards Will. Miller’s in his own clothes, jeans and navy blue sweater underneath a brown leather Ironhead Warrior team jacket with PPDC logo and an American flag on the sleeves. He looks good. Better than ever, probably.
“No permanent damage to the nervous system,” Santiago replies, feeling his heartbeat quicken at the sight. He has trouble staying still, suddenly restless with anticipation, the need to reach out, touch, search for signs Will feels what Santiago saw in the Drift, now that he can’t see into his thoughts. “He’s with his family.”
Will hums, stepping a little bit closer and right into Santiago’s personal space. “And what about us?”
“I don’t know,” Santiago answers honestly. They won the battle together, learned so much about each other, but holding Will’s calm gaze Santiago doesn’t dare to assume anything. “Do you really want this?”
“You were inside my head,” Will says, voice low. “You know what I want.”
“And I know being a Ranger comes first.”
“It does,” Will agrees gently. “You think they’d let us?”
“PPDC can’t have a problem with relationships between Rangers when almost every team is either close family or a married couple,” Santiago argues. “They should be happy they have cross-compatible pilots.”
He can hear his own tone, the I-know-I’m-right quality in it, but he means his every word. Not to mention, they’ve never given PPDC any reason to doubt their decision-making abilities. They’ve proven that whatever it is between them, it’s a strength, not a weakness, and no one can convince Santiago otherwise. Not after all of the times their teams fought together before. And definitely not after today.
Will is quiet though, looking at Santiago in silent consideration for a long moment before he lets out a heavy sigh. “If the PR team finds out, they’re gonna use it.”
Santiago nods. Of course they will, whether Santiago and Will like it or not. Most of the time Benny handles the media for both of their teams, his brother completely content with playing the strong silent type except for the occasional powerful speech here and there. But if the public knows there’s a couple among the Rangers that doesn’t pilot one Jaeger and it involves both Santiago Garcia and William Miller, well. Santiago knows it’s going to be chaos.
And a deal breaker, possibly.
“But I guess,” Will speaks again, gently tugging Santiago closer by the collar and effectively cutting off whatever he was about to say to assure Will they could still make it work. “If we kill fucking monsters, we can handle that, too.”
It’s hard to tell whether it’s the relief he feels or the smell of leather, standard-issue soap and just Will underneath all this that makes Santiago relax into the embrace he’s being pulled into. An arm settles around his shoulders, strong and heavy, the other around his waist.
Sliding his hands into Will’s jacket, open as it is, Santiago revels in the warmth he finds there. In the way the muscles quiver beneath his touch, too.
“Yeah,” Santiago breaths, fingers splaying over Will’s ribs. He wants to do that again later, without the clothes in the way, skin against skin. Make memories that Frankie will pointedly ignore in the Drift, that Benny will tease him about. “I know.”
They lean in at once as if their minds were still connected, mouths already open, and then they’re kissing – hot and eager and right, and finally. It feels like a thrill of the Jaeger drop, the silent flow of the Drift. Tastes a little bitter with the distant memory of longing and the knowledge of wasted time, and Santiago kisses Will until all traces of it are gone, lost in slide of their tongues. Kisses him some more, until Will is panting into his mouth and grinning, one hand in Santiago’s hair now.
It is their later, after all.