“Do you know why I called you in here?”
Eddie Munson, who did in fact not know why Jim Hopper – a.k.a. ‘Hop’, the Marshal of the Indiana Shatterdome – had called him into his office, but suspected that it might have had something to do with a prank he may or may not have pulled, grinned.
“You wanted to bask in the glory of my devilish charm?”
His attempt at levity was met with a blank face. Not even a twitch. Damn. Eddie must be in real trouble.
His grin dimmed a bit, and Hopper continued, as if Eddie hadn’t spoken, “How long have you worked here?”
sh*t, that sounded suspiciously like the beginnings of a ‘you’re fired’ speech.
“In the Dome? Seven years. Listen –”
“How many trainee pilots have you helped train over the years?”
Eddie couldn’t afford to get fired. No one else would hire him, and the Dome was his home.
“I don’t know … seventy? Eighty? Hop, whatever you think I did, I didn’t do it, or if I did, I didn’t mean it –”
“And how many of those went on to pilot a Jaeger?”
Eddie’s heart sank. He was getting fired.
“Five.”
Eddie wasn’t the smartest when it came to numbers, but he guessed that wasn’t a very good turnout.
The worst thing was that if they threw him out of the Dome, they’d throw uncle Wayne out, too. Uncle Wayne, who took care of Eddie during the worst years of his life, and who Eddie had promised to take care of in turn for the rest of his life. Eddie’s job at the Dome had ensured that he could keep that promise, and now he was going to lose it.
“Five,” Hopper repeated without inflection, bringing Eddie’s attention back at him. “Do you know how many trainee pilots we have to teach before we find and train a full-fledged, drift-compatible Jaeger pilot?”
Eddie just shook his head.
“About two hundred.” Huh, that seemed … high. Higher than Eddie had expected, at least. “Out of two hundred of our best prospects who start their training in the Pan Pacific Defense Corps, only one usually move on to pilot a Jaeger in combat. Yet out of the seventy-three trainees that you have had during your time with us, five people have joined those ranks – and with pretty good results, too. What do you have to say about that?”
“Uh,” Eddie said. That didn’t sound so bad actually, when he put it like that. “Is this where I ask for a raise?”
Finally, a twitch of Hopper’s thick moustache. Eddie, feeling the prospect of looming unemployment fade, breathed out a not-so-silent sigh of relief. Hop might be an old friend of Wayne’s, but he was still technically Eddie’s boss’ boss, and as such, he tended to make Eddie nervous.
He couldn’t wait to get out of this room.
“Do you have any idea how you’ve managed to keep up such an astounding success rate?”
… but instead of dismissing Eddie, the interrogation continued. Now when Eddie knew (well, strongly suspected) that he wouldn’t end up on the streets, he actually gave his answer some thought.
“I’m … easy to drift with, I guess? So my students have more experience with working together in the drift when they move on to the next step in the process?”
“That’s right,” Hopper said, which. Score for Eddie. “You have a unique ability to enter the drift with just about anyone and, when needed, keep your own self as unobtrusive as … well, as you don’t quite manage in real life.”
“Hey!”
“On top of that, you have good instincts, fast reflexes, and are quick to adapt to new situations.”
Okay, Hopper was laying it on thick, and this was a man whose idea of a compliment was a grunt. Eddie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Hopper wanted something. He’d never butter Eddie up like this, otherwise.
“Really starting to think I should be pushing that raise here, Hop.”
Pretending not to hear – or not deigning that with a reply – Hopper asked, “Have you heard about the Hawk?”
“The Hawk??” Everyone not living under a rock had heard about the Hawk. It was only the biggest Jaeger in existence, which thirty-four nations world-wide had helped fund. It was a giant robot that humanity had been working on for the last four years. It was the height of modern technology, supposedly equipped with enough weaponry to singlehandedly win them the war, humanity’s last hope et cetera et cetera. “Uh, yeah. Now that you mention it, the name does ring a bell.”
“It’s finished.”
“What?! But they said it’d be at least another year, they –”
“I misspoke. It’s finished, as in it’s ready for testing.” A pause. “And they need pilots.”
Oh.
Oh.
“And you’ve come to me.”
“I’ve come to you.”
Whoever they picked to pilot the Hawk would have to be good. Damn-near perfect, in fact, since they would not only fight the biggest, meanest Kaiju in existence in the most expensive machine ever built, but also do it while the whole world watched and held their breath. They’d have to be competent, work well under pressure, and of course be drift-compatible. Eddie started mentally sorting through his current and former students, weighing their strengths and weaknesses against what would be asked of them. He didn’t have a fancy career or a cushy, well-paid job, but this, he could do. He hadn’t spent the last seven years drifting with his trainees and not picked up a thing or two about how they’d act in difficult situations.What their character was like.
“Okay, so, the ones I have right now aren’t ready, obviously. But from the last batch, there’s Lucas Sinclair. He’s good. Steady, grounded. Keeps a cool head. I really think he can go on to do great things.” He saw Hopper start to shake his head, and hurried to go on, “Or if you want someone older, there’s Jason Carver. He’s great at like, everything, and he knows it. A bit of a prick in private, but he’d make it look easy for the cameras. The media would love him. He is drift-compatible with Patrick McKinney too, and he’s almost as good. I’m honestly surprised they haven’t scored a Jaeger of their own yet, they make one hell of a team, I –”
“Munson.”
“Yeah?”
“We’re not going with rookies.”
That had Eddie pull up short.
“What?”
It was unsaid, but generally agreed upon, that a pilot only ever piloted one Jaeger in their career. Which meant that the vast majority of newly built Jaegers were broken in by a pair of pilots who had not piloted one before. The more superstitious called it imprinting – the idea being that the first Jaeger that a new pilot learned to fight in was like getting to know a new part of themselves; an extension of their own body, their own mind. They claimed that it was difficult – damn near impossible, even – to switch to a new one, after one had imprinted on another.
It had been done, of course. Many times, but more often than not it had been in a pinch, when there were no better alternatives, and not always with good results. Eddie personally thought it was just a matter of habit, but the superstition was wide-spread and few wanted to chance it.
“We’re not going with rookies,” Hopper repeated, confirming that Eddie had heard him right. “The Hawk is different enough that the pilots will have to learn everything all over again, anyway.” Eddie’s mind spun with curiosity. There had been countless rumors floating around about the new Jaeger, but so far that’s all there was; rumors. Few who wasn’t actively working on it had seen it up close. “We are putting the fate of the Earth in these people’s hands. We need experience.” Fair. Eddie nodded in agreement. “Besides, we already have a couple of names.”
Oh, okay. Now things slotted back into place. Hopper wanted Eddie’s professional opinion on the people chosen. That made sense, and Eddie was honestly a little honored that Hopper would ask for his thoughts on something as important as this.
“Who?”
“First one’s Steve Harrington.”
Eddie nodded in thought. “Who used to pilot The Bat with Nancy Wheeler before she Clicked with Jonathan Byers. I thought Harrington gave up his pilot seat after that? Must have been rough on him – he was a damn good pilot. He and Wheeler took down that pair of Category Threes outside Kodiak, didn’t they?”
The words tumbled out of his mouth as they appeared in his brain, as they so often did. Eddie didn’t have much of a brain-to-mouth filter. He’d call it an unfortunate side-effect to drifting with all his students – there weren’t many thoughts that were private, after that – but in all honesty, he’d been like this since he was a kid.
“They did,” Hopper confirmed.
“I haven’t seen him around much after that,” Eddie mused. “It’s like he dropped off the face of the Earth after the whole Wheeler-Byers thing.”
“He’s still around. Teaching recruits. Training. He’s still as good.”
“Alright,” Eddie said. “Okay, yeah. Steve Harrington. Good choice. Who else have you got?”
“William Hargrove.”
Eddie’s eyebrows climbed up on his forehead and he gave a low whistle. “Oh, I see what you’re doing. Risky. One of the best, of course, but he’s had the worst of luck. Or maybe the best of luck, since he survived … He brought Cam back to shore on his own after a fight with a Category Four that took out his co-pilot, which is impressive as hell. He was, what? Twenty years old at the time?”
“Nineteen.”
“Which is insane. I know that after Cam got repaired, Hargrove started piloting it with his dad. Both of them were injured last year when Cam went down for good, but … at least they both survived that time, right?”
“Right.”
“I haven’t heard much about him since then. I take it he’s okay to go, then?”
“He’s spent the last year recovering, yes.”
“Alright. Okay. Next one.” Hopper kept quiet, so Eddie waved his hand in a ‘go on’ movement. “Hit me. Who else?”
“No,” Hopper said. “You misunderstand me. Those are the ones we’re going with. It’s already been decided.”
It took a while for Eddie to realize what that meant.
“Wait, what? Harrington and Hargrove, piloting a Jaeger together?” He paused, waiting for Hopper to correct him, but the man only gave a barely perceptible nod. Eddie spluttered. “Are you crazy? Those two are notorious for being at each other’s throats and can barely be in the same room without having to be pried apart. Didn’t they get in a fist fight that one time? Like, an actual ‘fists flying until they both drew blood’, fist fight?”
“They did, yes. In front of cameras, no less.”
“And you think it’s a good idea to put those two in charge of the world’s last hope?!”
“I think,” Hopper said with a hint of steel in his voice that made Eddie realize, belatedly, that perhaps he’d spoken out of turn, “that we need the best pilots avaliable. I think that we need pilots with fighting experience, and pilots who already have the trust of the general public.”
“Yeah, but –”
“But you’re right. Leaving those two alone in a confined space would be a recipe for disaster. And the two of them in the drift together could possibly be … explosive. Luckily,” Hopper said loudly when Eddie opened his mouth to speak, “that’s not the plan.” Okay, now Eddie was confused for real. “Do you know what the main thing is that sets the Hawk apart from the previous Jaegers?”
Thrown by the sudden change in topic, Eddie shook his head. “No?”
“Well, it’s bigger, for one. Stronger, faster, more complex. It is so big and strong and complex, in fact, that it needs three pilots to run it.” Three pilots? Eddie’s jaw dropped. “Three people, working together in perfect sync. Three people together in the drift.” Finding two people that Clicked enough to be able to seamlessly pilot a Jaeger was difficult enough. Finding three people to do so seemed almost impossible. “Harrington and Hargrove would be two of them. You, Edward, would be the third.”
Silence followed that statement, in which Eddie blinked, waiting for Hopper to deliver the punchline to what was obviously a joke. When no punchline came, Eddie let out a nervous laugh.
“Good one, Hop! Very funny. I didn’t think you –”
“Not a joke, Munson.”
“But –“ He stared at Hopper, whose face was as serious as ever. Not even a hint of deception. It hit Eddie then, with realization like ice down his spine; the man was serious. “But I’m not a fighter! I’ve never even set foot in a real Jaeger! And you just said you needed experience! I have none of that! Nada! Zilch! Can’t even throw a punch to save my life! I was bullied all throughout school.”
“You’ve successfully drifted with all your students, Munson, even the ones you don’t get along with – yeah, don’t think I don’t know – do you know how rare that is?” Hopper – perhaps sick of listening to Eddie rant – raised his voice enough that Eddie instinctively took a step back and swallowed. “The other two can fight and pilot the Hawk. We don’t need you for fighting. But the strain of the neural load would be too great on only two pilots. We need you there to even out the drift between the three of you, and also to make those two volatile personalities work together. Harrington is stubborn as a mule at times and prone to self-doubt in others, and Hargrove has a whole heap of issues and lacks basic self-preservation instincts. We need someone who is not a fighter, to make the decisions that will ensure your survival.”
Eddie was pulling at his hair. “It won’t work, Hop. I’m not the right person to do this, and you know it.”
“On the contrary, you may be the only person who can do this.” Eddie opened his mouth to protest again – because this was an insane idea, Hop was literally out of his mind if he thought this could work – but Hopper held up a hand to stop his objections. “But. We are aware of the risks in this … unprecedented situation. It is a long shot, I’ll admit. So of course we’ll have to test it out first. If you agree, which I hope you will, there’s a plane leaving in the morning. You and I will go to the Los Angeles Shatterdome and meet up with the others, where you will … try to drift with Harrington and Hargrove. That’s it. Just a trial run. If the neural link is strong between the three of you, we can talk more on how to proceed from there, okay?”
Eddie found himself gaping.
“No! It’s not okay, what the f*ck? This is so far from okay, it’s on a different planet. I don’t even know these people, and you want me to drift with them? Both of them? They hate each other, what makes you think they’ll even agree to drift with each other? Or me? We’ll see each other’s deepest darkest thoughts, most personal memories … it’ll be a mess!”
Hopper sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking ten years older all of a sudden.
“It’s already a mess. But the world needs this, needs you. And I’ve seen your record. I don’t know how you do it, but you make drifting seem easy, when it’s anything but.” He sighed, and looked Eddie in the eye. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “Whatever it is you somehow manage do to, time and time again, I need you to do that now, with these boys.”
Eddie was silent for a long time. He’d spent a large part of his life daydreaming of someone showing up and telling him he was special; had read countless books on quests and secret missions and imagined himself in the role of the hero. He’d never, in his wildest fantasies, imagined it would come true.
He sighed and shook his head. “I’m the worst person to put your faith in, I hope you know. I’m gonna let you down.”
Hopper’s eyes softened, and his voice didn’t sound as gruff when he said, “I’m gonna need you to at least give it a try.”
Eddie Munson, in a Jaeger? Eddie Munson, drifting with two of the most famous pilots of all time? Eddie Munson, making a difference?
f*ck it. “Fine. One try.” Honestly, one drift between three people was dangerous enough. Had it ever even been attempted? If it had, Eddie couldn’t remember hearing about it.
His answer seemed to appease Hopper, who nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. Eddie was already regretting his decision.
“Good man,” Hopper said and stood up. Eddie did the same, sensing that his audience with the Marshal of the Indiana Shatterdome was coming to an end. “Pack a bag, talk to Wayne, get a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, seven am, on the landing pad.”
Eddie just nodded and headed for the door, head for once too full of thoughts to get any words out. Right before he left, though, Hopper spoke up again.
“Oh, and you should probably know that Harrington was romantically involved with Wheeler, before she dumped him for Byers.” sh*t. That would complicate things; drama always did. “And Hargrove’s first co-pilot, the one who died? That was his mom.”
Double-sh*t.
This was too much information in too short time. Trying to drift with that kind of baggage – times two! – would be like trying to herd feral cats across a mine field. Eddie had too many doubts, too many questions, but the look on Hopper’s face said that now wasn’t the time to voice them. Soon enough, he’d get the answers to his questions anyway – there were no secrets in the drift.
Unless Harrington and Hargrove didn’t kill each other before the three of them could attempt to form a connection.
Eddie dragged a hand down his face. What the hell had he just agreed to? “We’re gonna have to renegotiate that raise.”
Hopper just let out a short bark of a laugh and pointed at the door.
“Results before rewards, Munson. Get out of here.”
While Eddie had helped train people who would later become Jaeger pilots, they were not actually Jaeger pilots when he trained them. They were just hopeful, ambitious people who wanted to do their part in the fight against monsters that threatened their world – or, in some cases, people who wanted the fame and fortune that being a pilot afforded those few who succeeded, and were willing to put in the work to make it happen. If it was one thing Eddie had learned by drifting with so many people, it was that people were people, and everyone had their own reasons for doing things. When it came to fighting monsters, the Why wasn’t as important as the How. Who cared about someone’s motivations as long as they yielded results, right? That was true as long as there wasn’t something overly concerning about someone’s character. And over the years there had been only a handful of people who had done – or was capable of doing – things that would not fly in the Corps. In those cases, Eddie had discreetly made Hopper aware of the fact that those individuals wouldn’t make the cut, and they’d been weeded out. He never provided details to his reasoning, though, and Hopper never asked. Because there was one thing that was universally agreed-upon: what one learned about someone else in the drift, stayed in the drift.
The point was, though, that Eddie might technically know a couple of pilots – or had known them, before they became actual pilots – but he hadn’t ever spent a prolonged period of time with people who were already fully-fledged pilots; who had experience with fighting actual Kaiju, and were dealing with the pressure of success.
After all, he was just Eddie. Someone who yes, took to the drift like a fish to water, but that was all he brought to the table. No fighting skills, no tactical training, not even mechanical knowledge about how a Jaeger was put together – despite the fact that the Indiana Shatterdome was mostly used for the production and part-assembly of Jaeger parts, to be shipped out to the other Shatterdomes around the world. Located in the middle of the continent, far from any coastlines, the thought was that the Indiana Shatterdome would be the last one to fall, and would be able to keep production up even if the Kaiju managed to get past all lines of defense around the coast. Eddie had grown up right here in the Dome, first with his father, and then when Wayne took him in as a young teenager. Wayne had worked in an assembly line for most of Eddie’s life, and that’s what Eddie thought he’d do once he got out of school too. At least until seventeen-year-old him and his friends had gotten high one night and snuck into a nearly finished Conn-Pod and gotten their hands on some Pons. They got caught, of course, and were punished for their transgressions (Eddie was on mess hall duty after school for six months, after that) – but it had also uncovered Eddie’s affinity for drifting, and after he’d finished school he’d been offered a job in the Corps. And he’d been training potential pilots in the art of drifting ever since.
He didn’t know why it was so easy for him to connect with people in the drift. It probably had something to do with how difficult he found it to connect with people outside of it.
But. The main takeaway to all this was that while drifting was easy for him, everything else wasn’t. He’d lived his whole life in Indiana. He’d never gotten any closer to fighting Kaiju than watching it on TV. Harrington and Hargrove were going to take one look at his scrawny, unexperienced ass and then walk out of there – after they’d stopped laughing, that is.
So to say that Eddie was nervous now, when he was waiting in an office in the unfamiliar Los Angeles Shatterdome and fiddling with a pen he’d stolen from the desk as soon as he was left alone, was a gross understatement.
The door opened without anyone knocking on it, and a young man entered. The man was easily recognizable with his wavy, almost curly, dark-blond hair and good looks; Eddie had seen William Hargrove’s charming smile on TV for years. The man wasn’t smiling now, though. He looked somber, with dark bags under his eyes. There were also some changes to him that Eddie couldn’t help but catalogue; a slit in his eyebrow, and a small scar on his right cheek, right under his eye. Eddie thought again of how he hadn’t actually seen Hargrove’s face on TV since they lost Cam.
All of this passed through Eddie’s head in under a second. Enough time for Hargrove to spot him there, and when he did, he straightened up, a shadow of that winning smile appearing on his face.
“You Edward Munson?” he asked, reaching out a hand to shake.
Eddie took it, and shook it. “Eddie. I mean, yes, I’m him, but please call me Eddie. Hopper’s the only one to call me Edward, and he only does that when I’m in trouble. Oh, and Wayne, of course. But you wouldn’t know Wayne. Do you know Hopper? Jim Hopper, the … Marshal of …” Hargrove’s blue eyes widened as Eddie kept talking, and Eddie had to take a deep breath and reign himself in. Trying to stop himself from making an even worse first impression. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just, you’re … William Hargrove. Kind of famous.”
Hargrove chuckled, and miraculously looked charmed instead of put off by Eddie’s rambling. Or perhaps he was just used to having to pretend. School his expression in front of the media. Either way, Eddie was grateful for it, because it made him feel marginally less awful.
“Billy.”
Eddie blinked. “Sorry, what?”
“Call me Billy. Please.”
Well, he did say please. “Billy,” Eddie said and shook Hargrove’s – Billy’s – hand again, only then realizing that he was still holding it. He quickly let go. “It’s, uh, I mean, pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise. Doctor Owens says that you have a lot of experience in the drift?”
That sounded infinitely better than ‘no experience in a fight’. “Uh yeah, I suppose you could say that. But, so do you! I mean –”
Thankfully – because Eddie could feel another word-vomit coming – he was interruptedwhen the door opened once again. This time, three people entered. An older handsome man in a suit with cold eyes and brown hair that was greying at the temples, a familiar young (equally handsome) man with warm eyes who by the looks of things must be the first man’s son, and Jim Hopper.
The younger man – Steve Harrington – smiled warmly at the sight of Eddie and held out his hand in greeting.
“Eddie Munson? I’m Steve Harrington, Steve to my friends, pleased to meet you.” He then glanced at Billy, the smile melting off his face and being replaced by a stony look. “Hargrove.”
“Harrington,” Billy acknowledged between clenched teeth, and the temperature dropped several degrees as the two of them placed themselves on different sides of the room.
As another older man entered the room and everyone else’s eyes flew to him, Hopper caught Eddie’s eyes and raised his eyebrows meaningfully while discreetly nodding at the two men that Eddie had been tasked to make peace between.
Oh boy, did Eddie have his work cut out for him.
Later that evening, Eddie found himself on a platform from which he could see the entirety of the bay where the Hawk was kept. It was a gigantic structure, the biggest one that Eddie had ever seen. From where he was sitting, the people down on the floor looked like ants; their machines like matchboxes. But of course, that was because everything looked tiny in comparison to the monstrous size of the Hawk – the Jaeger that the whole structure had been built around.
Eddie looked down and immediately regretted it – he wasn’t the best with heights. He’d been too nervous to eat in the cafeteria with a bunch of people he didn’t recognize, so instead he’d pilfered a sandwich from a vending machine and then taken an elevator up to the highest point his access card would get him. There, he’d sat down on the edge of the platform, leaning his arms on the metal rails and swinging his feet over the abyss. He probably wasn’t allowed to eat up here – lord knows a dropped sandwich from this height could probably kill a man – but no one had stopped him. Besides, Eddie figured he should probably become a little braver, if he was to pilot a Jaeger and fight monsters in the near future.
Which, he still wasn’t sure this whole thing wasn’t just a very elaborate joke.
The first meeting with his supposed co-pilots today hadn’t lasted long. None of them really spoke much, except for Hopper and Brenner, who – as the Marshals of the Indiana and Los Angeles Shatterdomes, respectively – went through the plans and schedule for the next couple of days.
Brenner was the last to show up, greeting Hopper with a terse nod and then jumping straight into it. Just like Eddie had suspected, the other older man that had been in the room with them was Harrington Senior, and he was apparently not only Steve Harrington’s father, but his company was one of the biggest private investors behind the construction of the Hawk. He and Steve spent most of the meeting sending icy glares in Billy’s direction, making Eddie have to fight the urge to put himself bodily between them. Billy, in turn, spent the whole meeting ignoring both the Harrington men in favor of giving Hopper and Brenner his full attention. So yeah, there was definitely some bad blood there.
Oh joy. Drifting with not one, but two people at the same time, who incidentally hated each other. While trying to control a huge-ass experimental Jaeger. While fighting extradimensional creatures who wanted to kill them and everyone else.
How had this become Eddie’s life? This time yesterday, he’d been afraid he was getting fired.
“Hey,” someone said from right behind him, and if Eddie hadn’t been sitting down, he’d probably have skipped over the railing in fright. As it was, he only almost dropped his sandwich – the only thing to actually fall was a piece of lettuce. Since that wasn’t likely to kill anyone, no matter what height it was dropped from, he turned around to see who had sought him out.
And was met with the image of Steve Harrington, eyes wide and hands out as if to say ‘I come in peace’.
“Woah there,” he said with a smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Sorry,” Eddie said and scooted back from the edge a bit. “I’m just a bit jumpy, this is all very …” He gestured to the sight in front of them, trying to find a word that would encompass everything, and coming up with absolutely nothing.
“Much?” Steve suggested, making Eddie let out a laugh.
“Yeah.”
“I know how you feel,” Steve said and raised his eyebrows in silent question while motioning to the spot next to Eddie. When Eddie just did a ‘go ahead’ motion, he sat down next to him.
They watched the Hawk silently together for a while, but eventually Eddie couldn’t keep himself from asking, “So, you’re nervous too, huh?”
Laughing softly – and Eddie couldn’t help noticing what a nice sound that was – Steve nodded. “Always.”
“But you’ve done this before,” Eddie pressed. “You know how this whole thing works, right? I’ve never even seen a Jaeger in real life until today.”
That had Steve turning to him sharply. “No sh*t? Really?”
“Really. I don’t know what Hop was thinking when he brought me here. Do you know that I’ve never even thrown a punch? In my whole life? I mean, I’ve been in fights, but usually just as the person curling up on the floor, you know? I don’t know … I don’t know what I’m doing here, to be honest.” Something in Eddie kept telling him that he shouldn’t unload on Steve, who seemed nice and who even now, when he was speaking all his insecurities out loud, didn’t seem put off. But another part of him thought he might as well get it out of the way now, because Steve would learn about it in the drift tomorrow anyway. At least this way, he’d know what kind of mess Eddie was beforehand. Be prepared, and all that.
Steve surprised him, though, by saying “I do.”
“What?” Eddie said, already having half-forgotten what he just said.
“I know why you’re here.” He glanced at Eddie with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Didn’t you get the same briefing that the rest of us got? I’m here because my dad is rich as f*ck and the media loves me, Hargrove is here because he’s the best available pilot right now, and you’re here as a peacekeeper because the Hawk needs three people to pilot her, and me and Hargrove …” He trailed off, grimacing slightly. “Me and Hargrove have history.”
Eddie couldn’t help himself – he was, above all else, a little sh*t at heart. “Really?” he therefore said, grasping at his heart and playing up the sarcasm. “You two? History? I never would have guessed!”
He got an elbow to the gut for that, but it was more a friendly nudge than anything malicious. And Steve threw him a smile, which made something flutter to life in Eddie’s chest.
“Very funny,” Steve said.
“I know,” Eddie quipped. “Actually, now that I think about it, that might be why Hop brought me in. Comedic relief.”
A beat, then Steve said, “Honestly, that wouldn’t be so bad. We could all use some relief.”
They let that sit between them for a moment, and then Eddie, flimsy brain-to-mouth filter currently offline, asked, “So what’s your deal with Billy?” A sharp look, and he amended, “Uh, I mean Hargrove. William Har –” Belatedly, he realized how rude he was probably being and tried to backtrack, but Steve was already shaking his head.
“I don’t … We have some history. That very few people know about. I –“ He took a deep breath. “It’s not something I – I don’t want to, you know, talk about it –“
“No, I get it,” Eddie hurried to say. “You don’t have to –“
But Steve kept talking. “It’s just, it’s not just my story to tell.”
“Yeah, I –“
“And like, he’s a f*cking asshole, but. I wouldn’t –“
Eddie put a hand on Steve’s arm, which made him snap his mouth shut and turn to look at Eddie, who tried to keep his voice even when he repeated, “I get it. It’s okay. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Visibly deflating, Steve leaned over the railings and looked down at his feet, something that Eddie hadn’t been brave enough to do yet, because they were, like, a mile up. Slight exaggeration, perhaps, but still. “It’s just,” Steve started. “You’re gonna find out tomorrow anyway.” He sighed. “And there are no secrets in the drift.”
“There are no secrets in the drift,” Eddie agreed.
Steve glanced over at Eddie. “Can I ask you a favor?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.”
“Whatever you see tomorrow … will you keep it to yourself? And, uh. Keep an open mind. Okay?”
That had Eddie burst out laughing. At the frown that suddenly appeared on Steve’s face, he tried to school his expression back to neutral, and when Steve made to stand up and leave, Eddie’s hand shot out to stop him, “No, no no no, wait, I’m not laughing at you, I promise!” Hesitantly, Steve sat back down. “I’m just … I’m literally here because I have an open mind.” A beat, then, “I think.” Shaking his head a little, he continued, “I’ve drifted with … I don’t even know how many people. Hundreds?”
“Hundreds?!”
“Yeah, and like you said, there are no secrets in the drift. I’ve seen sh*t in people’s minds you wouldn’t believe.” Rolling his eyes in emphasis drew a reluctant huff of laughter out of Steve, which – score! “But I have never,” and he made sure to look Steve in the eye for this part, “and I mean never … told anyone else what I learn in the drift.” The gravity of his words was underlined by the fact that he had dropped his smile. “What’s rule number one of drifting?”
“Uh,” Steve said, briefly licking his lips. “’Don’t chase the rabbit’.”
“Nah, that’s rule number two. Rule number one is, ‘what you see in the drift, stays in the drift’.”
That drew another huff out of the man next to him.
“Not the order I remember from my lessons.”
Leaning back, Eddie grinned lazily and pointed a thumb at his own chest. “That’s because your teacher wasn’t me. And I’m the best.”
“The best, huh?”
“Well, not to toot my own horn, but. I am here. Apparently about to go fight monsters with you guys in that big hunk of metal over there.” He gestured at the Hawk at the other end of the gigantic bay. “So, you know.” He mimed pulling an imaginary whistle rope. “Toot toot.”
Steve actually laughed at that; a real belly laugh. Mission accomplished.
As they settled back down and fell back into silence, their feet lazily swinging over the edge of the platform almost childishly, Eddie was reminded of when he was younger and playing with his friends on the playground back home. How, when he had climbed to the very top, he’d stay up there with Gareth and pretend that they were on the top of a mountain, or at the lookout post on a pirate ship, or that they were hiding in the trees to get away from bandits. A strange thing to be reminded of, since this was very far from being a similar situation, but the memory made him smile nonetheless.
Steve must have seen, because he made an inquiring sound in the back of his throat.
Eddie turned to him, still smiling, and said, “Relax. Whatever happens tomorrow …” He almost said ‘your secrets are safe with me’, but stopped himself at the last second, because that would be lying. No secrets were safe in the drift. So instead, he finished it off with, “you’re safe with me.”
By the way Steve smiled back at him, he figured that it had been the right thing to say.
He didn’t sleep much that night. Or at all, really. Which was on one hand incredibly unusual, because he had never had any trouble sleeping before – had in fact, on one very memorable and scientifically improbable occasion, fell asleep in the middle of a drift (but in his defense it had been while he was connected with Jason Carver, and the man’s thoughts were so unimaginative and dull … also he may or may not have been high at the time) – but on the other hand it was totally understandable, because he was about to attempt to do the impossible; drift with two people at the same time, unite a couple of arch enemies, fight monsters, save the human race, blah blah blah etc cetera et cetera.
So, he’d spent the entire night tossing and turning in his bunk in an unfamiliar room, on an unfamiliar mattress, where everything smelled wrong and sounded wrong and where there were no soft snores from his uncle to lull him to sleep. In the early hours of the morning, he kicked off his blanket in a fit of frustration and lay there in only his underwear, staring up into the ceiling until the chill of the room drove him to his feet. He got dressed – sloppily, and in the same clothes he’d worn the day before – and slunk out of his room in search for breakfast.
Well. Breakfast or a place to smoke, whichever he found first.
Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately, all things considered – he located the mess hall first. Or, rather, a mess hall. A Shatterdome of this size had several, which he vaguely remembered the guy who shoved him to his room yesterday mention.
Eddie wasn’t a morning person, so he’d normally never show up at breakfast at – a glance at a clock revealed it to be five forty-five in the morning, good lord! – but since he’d technically never gone to sleep in the first place, one could argue that he’d just been pulling an all-nighter. Which he did all the time, so. Nothing new there. He might as well go with a winning concept and consume some sugar to keep himself awake. He needed to be in the Drivesuit Room in a couple of hours anyway.
So, he picked the most sugar-packed items he could find out of the food and snacks options, threw them onto a tray and then turned to the room at large to find somewhere to sit.
It was surprising, really, that there were already people up and about, spread out around the room with their trays and food. What the hell were they doing up at this time? It wasn’t natural for humans to be up at this time – Eddie was pretty sure that humans were built to sleep at least until daybreak.
Not that he knew whether the sun had risen or not. He hadn’t seen a window yet since he got here. Stupid huge-ass complex.
The room wasn’t even half-full, but all the tables that he could see had at least someone sitting at them, so either he would have to plop himself down next to a stranger and make small talk – which, terrible idea for this time of day – or he’d have to try to find his way back to his room, while carrying his breakfast.
He was contemplating his options when he discovered that actually not all the people in here were strangers. Bolstered by the sight of a familiar face, and not at all considering whether or not he’d be welcome, he weaved between the tables to the one closest to the wall and put his tray down on the table opposite to where Billy was sitting, seemingly lost in thought. Billy jumped a little, and then just frowned as Eddie climbed onto the chair over the back of it and sat down, tearing open a packet of questionable blue sour candies that were proclaiming themselves to be “energy-ballzz”. (Yes, with two z’s.)
“Mornin’,” Eddie said, throwing a handful of them into his mouth and making a face at the taste. “What are you doing up already? Trying to avoid the breakfast rush? Or perhaps you’re dining early to avoid the horde of adoring fans that surely follow in your footsteps wherever you go?”
If Eddie normally didn’t have much of a filter, that filter was practically non-existent when he was running on no sleep. Which he only belatedly realized. But instead of attempting to backtrack or, you know, act like a normal person, he threw another handful of artificially flavored candies into his mouth and grinned.
And just like with Steve the day before, he somehow managed to coax a smile out of the other man. Huh, perhaps the secret to befriending mega-celebrities was to be his usual, obnoxious self? Who would have thought?
“That …” Billy started, blinking and shaking his head as if to clear it. Eddie got that reaction a lot. “That doesn’t happen a lot nowadays, actually.”
“Really?” Eddie said while chewing and suppressing a wince at the renewed sourness.
“Yeah. Turns out most people think I’m bad luck now. Or bad news.” He laughed, a little self-depreciatively. “Or just bad company. Take your pick.”
“Huh,” Eddie said, vaguely eyeing the eggs on Billy’s plate. He was kinda hungry. “That’s weird. Since you’re none of those things.”
“How would you know? No offense, but we met for the first time yesterday. You don’t … know me.”
“Well,” Eddie said and licked his fingers so he could hold up a sugar-free digit to make his point, “you’re not really bad news because judging by how many times I’ve seen you on TV and on the cover of magazines, I’d say the media loves you.”
“Not so much since I punched pretty boy in the face.”
“If you’re referring to Steve, then first of all,” he pointed at Billy’s face, “good nickname, actually. I’m gonna steal that one. He is kind of pretty, isn’t he?” He didn’t wait for Billy to nod before continuing, “And second of all, journalists are vultures with questionable ethics. They love a good story, which you gave them, which makes you good news.” He spread his hands benevolently and nodded wisely. “What was the next one?”
“Bad luck.”
“Oh, right. Which you’re obviously not, since we’re all sitting here. Alive, and all.”
“You don’t …” Billy looked down at his plate and pushed it away from him. Smiled a little shakily and turned his gaze to the other side of the room. “You don’t know what happened.”
Which wasn’t true. Not really. After Hopper told him what Billy did before they left Indiana, Eddie had done some reading. So he knew what had happened to Billy, at least in broader terms. And he figured that some of those things were more important than the others. “I know you lost your mother,” he said bluntly, but kept his voice soft. Billy still flinched, but then his eyes hardened.
“Yeah. She died while she was in a Jaeger with me. And then later on, my dad almost died, while being in a Jaeger with me.” His lips parted in a grin that was no joy and all teeth. “Aren’t you just jumping for joy over the chance to be my drift partner?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“Dude, I’m terrified,” Eddie said easily, but when Billy gave a triumphant huff like ‘told you so’, Eddie shook his head. “But I’m terrified of monsters, and fighting, and being in the biggest Jaeger ever built and f*cking it up while the whole world is watching. Like, what if I somehow make us trip on our first venture out of the Shatterdome, and flatten some buildings? That’s what I’m afraid of. Not you.” He reached out his hand across the table; not reaching for Billy’s hand or anything, just resting his own there, between them. “If anything, I am very relieved that if I’m to do this, at least I have someone with experience by my side.”
“Experience with almost dying, maybe,” Billy huffed out under his breath.
“Exactly!” Eddie exclaimed proudly. “Key word: almost. You’ve lived through some bad sh*t. sh*t that would have probably killed just about anyone else. And here you are.” He smiled. “If anything, I’d say you’re good luck.”
Billy breathed out harshly through his nose. “I’m no one’s rabbit’s foot, man. I’m more likely to get you killed.”
“Says who?”
“Says experience. And a big chunk of the media. And like half of the people in this room, behind my back.”
“Well …” Eddie started, and then shrugged as he opened a bag containing some unidentifiable gummy candies covered in sugar. “f*ck ’em, then.” His tone of voice startled Billy into a laugh, which Eddie happily took as a win. “I mean it. f*ck ‘em. Many of them are alive today because of you.”
“That’s not –“
“I’ve never been much of a numbers guy, unless it’s D’n’D stats maybe, but I’m pretty sure the number of estimated casualties if a Kaiju comes ashore in a big coastal city is in the thousands, maybe tens of thousands. Correct?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just swallowed another handful of gummies and continued with his mouth full. “And you’ve fought Kaiju, how many times?”
“I …” Billy looked stricken. “I don’t know.”
“Me neither. We can look it up later, but let’s count low and say fifteen. Fifteen times, say, ten thousand … I’m sure you can do the math. That means that over a hundred thousand people are alive because of you.”
Shaking his head, Billy gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I was just doing my job. It could have been anyone in that Jaeger.”
At that, Eddie let out a laugh that was so loud that everyone at the closest tables turned to give him weird looks. Being used to those kind of reactions, he easily ignored them. “’Anyone’, he says, as if becoming a Jaeger pilot isn’t the hardest thing to become ever. Only the very best become recruits, and out of those recruits, only the best of the best go on to become trainee pilots. And I should know, I drifted with a lot of them. And out of those, only one in two hundred –“ He silently thanked Hopper for that particular piece of impressive-sounding statistic, “– become actual Jaeger pilots.” He raised his eyebrows pointedly. “And even out of the Jaeger pilots, you’re considered somewhat of a legend. So that whole ‘I was just doing my job’ bullsh*t? Is just that – bullsh*t.”
“Look man, I know what you’re trying to do. And I … I appreciate it, alright? But you don’t know … You don’t know everything.”
“You’re right,” Eddie said, voice neutral. “I don’t. But we’ll drift together in a couple of hours.” Because honestly, it was as simple and as complicated as that. “And I guess I’ll know then.”
At the reminder, Billy hunched his shoulders and looked so unhappy that Eddie threw a chocolate bar across the table so it landed up against Billy’s glass of orange juice, startling him. “Oh and I almost forgot about that third thing.”
“Third thing?”
“Yeah, what was it you said? That people called you ‘bad company’?” Watching Billy roll his eyes, Eddie gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I mean, they’re obviously wrong about that too. For one thing, you haven’t told me to get lost yet, which is a huge plus and already puts you ahead of a lot of people in my book. And for another, you’re obviously about to share your delicious eggs with me, which makes you excellent company.” He leaned forward over the table and wagged his eyebrows suggestively. “Or should I say … eggcellent.”
That made Billy groan and make a face. “That was so bad.”
“Made you smile, though.”
And it had. Billy looked almost surprised to discover it; for a second, it looked like he was going to reach up and feel his own face, but at the last second he leaned onto his elbows instead and glared accusingly at Eddie. “You’re so weird.”
“I know,” Eddie said, waving it away. “It’s part of my charm. Now, how about them eggs?”
Billy pushed his plate across the table forcefully and even threw his fork down on it for Eddie to grab, but he didn’t look angry. Instead he looked the most relaxed Eddie had seen since meeting him yesterday. Even picked up the chocolate bar Eddie had so graciously gifted him, and started unwrapping it.
“Are you always this f*cking chipper, this early in the morning?”
Eddie froze with a fork full of eggs halfway to his mouth, and made a show out of looking over both his left and right shoulder, acting like he was afraid someone was eavesdropping. “I’m gonna let you in on a little secret,” he said in a low voice. He waited until Billy unconsciously leaned closer to be able to hear before he continued, “I’m not really a morning person.” When Billy’s eyebrows climbed up on his forehead, he hurried to add, “But I didn’t really go to sleep last night, so technically, now is a very very late night for me, as opposed to a very very early morning …”
“Oh god,” Billy groaned, throwing himself back in his chair and eyeing the wrappers from the copious amounts of sugar that Eddie had already consumed. “You’re gonna be insufferable today, aren’t you?”
“That is my normal state of being,” Eddie said, nodding, “so yeah, probably.”
A couple of beats, then; “Well. The drift today is going to be interesting.”
Eddie held up his bottle of bright orange energy drink and clinked it into Hargrove’s coffee cup. “Cheers to that.”
A couple of hours later found them – all three of them; Eddie, Steve and Billy – in the Drivesuit Room connected to the Hawk’s co*ckpit. When imagining this moment, Eddie had pictured something like what he was used to; himself and his drift partner in a room full of equipment, with a technician or two observing and keeping track of their drift through a glass window.
He should have known that this would be different – what with this being the first time that a) three people would attempt to drift together and also b) those three people would attempt to connect to the Hawk, the most sophisticated machinery on Earth. Oh, and c) two of those people were kind of a big deal. Hint: it wasn’t Eddie.
There were maybe thirty people currently in the room with them – which was much bigger than the one that Eddie had used for training back in Indiana, by the way – and each one of them had a job to do. Eddie, Steve and Billy each had a technician assigned to them whose job it was to get them into their battle armor – and that was another change from what Eddie was used to; he hadn’t ever worn a full Drivesuit before, the Pons and a circuitry suit were all that was needed when drifting in a simulation.
“Hang on, wait,” he said as the woman who was assigned to him frowned as the tried to wrangle Eddie into his armor. “I don’t get why we need this, today is just a drift, right?”
“You’ll need it for battle,” the woman said and wrenched Eddie’s arm down from where he’d been holding it out of reach. On either side of him, Steve and Billy were calmly letting their technicians do whatever; obviously used to the process.
“Yeah but today is no – ah! – battle! Oh hey, watch it lady!” Eddie yelped as she buckled a piece of armor over a sensitive part of him where no armor had ever been before. “That’s … a private area.” To the right of him, Billy snorted, and to the left, Steve was trying hard to suppress a grin.
And to think that Eddie had been lying awake, trying to figure out how to bridge the gap between his two co-pilots-to-be, when all he had to do was to make himself the butt of a joke to unite them.
Well. Small price to pay.
As Eddie continued to wrestle with the tech lady – he was ticklish, okay, sue him – a bunch of important-looking people stood before them to try to brief them on what they were about to attempt. There’d been a high-ranking military guy, a pair of head engineers, a medical doctor, some science guy, and Brenner himself. Now, a Dr. Owens – who was apparently a psychologist or something – was talking them through the potential repercussions of drifting together. And Eddie wanted to let his mind drift (some pun intended) because if there was anything he had experience with, it was drifting. But with Hopper standing off to the side, pinning Eddie under an intense gaze, silently and intently projecting ‘pay attention and don’t embarrass me’, he didn’t dare let his attention slip.
He learned that they were in the battle armor because unlike the usual Drivesuits, the armor and the circuitry suit were connected for the Hawk; not only allowing them to feel whatever the Jaeger would do, but also enabling them to survive a number of intense physical situations which would otherwise be enough to kill or incapacitate a human. Eddie heard ‘life-support’ being thrown around, and decided then and there to pick his co-pilots’ brains at a later date to learn everything he could about these suits and what they could do. If he ever saw battle, he would really hate to die, after all.
He also learned that they would not, in fact, just do a first drift in a virtual simulator, but actually connect to the Hawk’s systems (without being able to move it or, you know, fire any weapons, of course). Which was highly unusual for a first drift between pilots, but considering this was kind of a historic event – which, it was still an insane thought that he was a part of it – he could understand it. If this experiment fried their brains, at least the scientists would have some data to go off of when figuring out what they did wrong, before they got some other poor schmucks to try it again.
Oh god, they were actually gonna do this.
Oh god, Eddie was basically a human-shaped guinea-pig.
“Is it just me, or is it hot in here?” His voice cracked at the end, but he blamed that on the fact that he was unsuccessful in trying to loosen the armor around his neck so he could breathe better.
Twin snorts from either side of him, and oh, good to know that while his co-pilots couldn’t stand each other, at least they could find common ground in their amusem*nt over Eddie’s anxiety.
While Eddie had been busy silently freaking out, most of the room had emptied out. Only a few people remained, for some last-minute instructions. Steve’s dad was standing in front of his son, and Dr. Owens had stayed behind for some last-minute words with Billy. And Eddie found himself face to face with Hopper, who looked at him from head to toe and then back again, and then nodded approvingly.
“You can do this,” he said.
“Not actually proven yet,” Eddie started to protest, but Hopper just clapped his hand on Eddie’s shoulder – which he barely felt, courtesy of the armor – and continued;
“Make me proud.”
Eddie groaned. “Come on, Hop, don’t put that kind of pressure on me!” But Hopper just smiled and turned and started walking away from him. “Hop!”
“I’ll be watching from the outside,” the man threw over his shoulder, and disappeared from the room.
“Yeah, you and half the compound,” Eddie muttered under his breath, and then straightened up and tried to plaster on a confident smile for Steve’s dad as he walked by. Judging by the look on the man’s face, Eddie didn’t quite succeed to make it look like a real human expression.
They were escorted to the detachable co*ckpit which was connected to the Drivesuit Room, and Eddie watched as Billy and Steve both strapped in at their places almost without any help at all; Steve to Eddie’s left, and Billy to the right. Eddie’s place was between them, but behind them both and also up on a little platform, so he was looking down at them somewhat.
“I feel like Captain Kirk looking down on Sulu and that other guy on the Enterprise bridge,” he muttered, and then shook his head when his technician – who was attempting to show him how to connect his suit to various things – looked up with raised eyebrows. “… Never mind.”
Eventually they were all apparently properly set up, and the technicians left them in the co*ckpit. Eddie took the opportunity to look around now when no one else was around. The walls were shiny metal, reinforced steel and lots and lots of tech that he had no idea what it was. Their legs were connected to some kind of metal boots on big metal things that disappeared into the floor, and their torsos had been strapped into contraptions that hung from the ceilings like giant metal spider legs.
“Not ominous at all,” Eddie mumbled, and then raised his voice, “Hey guys? I can’t help but notice that this machine seems to expect me to move along with you, and I just wanted to let you know beforehand that I failed gym in school and haven’t been running since I was a scrawny 16-year old who was chased by bullies. So, you know. Fair warning, I probably won’t be able to keep up with you guys.”
Amused huffs was his only reply, but his co-pilots didn’t turn to look at him or give any other answer. They also hadn’t acknowledged each other in any way other than stiff nods when they first entered the Drivesuit room.
It wasn’t exactly a good sign.
“Can you hear us?” a voice called from the intercom, which when Eddie thought about it was probably just in his helmet.
“Affirmative,” Billy and Steve said as one.
“Uh, yeah,” Eddie said, and felt dumb.
“Alright. For this first attempt, the Hawk’s controls and weapons are disconnected. This is just to see if it’s possible to create a mental bond between the three of you. Any questions?”
Now or never. “Yeah, actually,” Eddie said. “I take it this is all being recorded and monitored?”
A beat, then, “Yes. Of course.”
“Is there a secure line we can use for a minute? Just a moment between the boys and me.”
Another beat, longer this time, before the voice came back, sounding somewhat bewildered at the request. “I mean. Not really?”
Eddie saw both Billy and Steve turn around and look at him over their shoulders. “Make it as private as you can then, please. Last minute words of encouragement, you know.”
A minute passed, during which Eddie imagined the discussions taking place in the control room which was no doubt full of important people with strong opinions on things. Then the same voice came back, telling him, “Okay, you three are off the intercom. I’m the only one who listens right now, but I’m obliged to tell you that anything you say is being recorded.”
“Fair enough,” Eddie said, and would have shrugged if he hadn’t been wearing armor and been strapped in to complicated machinery. He looked between the other two in the co*ckpit, who were still looking at him. No doubt trying to figure out where he was going with this. And in all honestly, Eddie should have done this earlier, but he hadn’t gotten a chance to get the both of them alone before this moment.
“Alright. First, I need you to know that whatever animosity you guys harbor for each other, it’s over and done with. Whatever happened between you, it doesn’t matter anymore. Because in a minute, we will be in the drift together and I will learn about whatever it is, and you will learn everything you never wanted to know about both me and each other. And we will come out of it as changed men. Do you understand?”
He saw them glance at each other, and something passed between them that he couldn’t parse out, but in the next moment, they both gave a little nod.
“Great. The second thing I need you to know, is that I have my own set of rules for being in the drift. Tell me, what do they teach you is the first rule of drifting?”
“Don’t chase the rabbit,” they both answered with absolute certainty. Good soldiers who immediately answered any question, if asked with enough authority.
“Exactly. Now I need you to forget about that rule for a while.”
Billy frowned, but Steve was the first to speak. “What? But …”
“I know that they tell you that the best way to keep control in the drift is to try keep your memories and your mind to yourself. To not poke at your partner, and don’t chase after memories that aren’t yours.” He took a deep breath. “I’m telling you, don’t worry about that rule.”
“But it’s the first thing they teach us?”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah. I know. Let me ask you, how many people have you drifted with – I mean successfully drifted with – in your life? Co-pilots and teachers and peers.”
“Five,” said Billy.
“Four,” was Steve’s answer.
“Right. I’m at … I don’t know, hundreds. Drifting is what I do. And I’m telling you, it takes a lot of mental energy to keep your walls up. To keep your integrity in the drift. And while it can be done and should be done, when you’re strong enough or experienced enough and, I don’t know, in the middle of an epic Kaiju fight … it’s a hell of a strain to do it in a first drift. It might sound crazy, and you may not like it, but the easiest thing is probably to tear down those barriers in the first drift. Maybe don’t chase the rabbits, but … don’t run from them.” Even behind the glass of their helmets, he could see the way they paled. “Usually, when I introduce someone new to drifting, I am in control. I will hand them the rabbit and let them pet it.” He winced. “Okay, bad analogy, but the point is that the exchange of private memories and instincts and feelings during the first drift is crucial. If this three-way drift is going to work, we’re going to have to trust each other. Fully. And to do that, we have to get to know each other. And while I would love to take you boys out for drinks and pick your brains in the usual way, we don’t have the luxury of time.” He took another deep breath. “So. Air all the dirty laundry at once, and accept it – we all have embarrassing secrets – and then there won’t be any nasty surprises later on. A lot of mental energy goes towards ‘staying in your own lane’, if you will. If we merge the lanes right away, we will already know everything there is about each other, and drifting afterwards will be a cakewalk in comparison.” He fixed both of them with a look. “I meant it yesterday when I said that there are no secrets in the drift.”
Billy looked away, and Steve – curiously – looked at Billy.
Eddie continued, “After today, we’ll know each other on a level that most people can only dream of. Or perhaps have nightmares about. I’ll to my best to regulate it so it won’t get overwhelming, but I’ve never drifted with two people at the same time before. If you feel yourself get swept away, you need to let it happen. Don’t fight it. It goes against every instinct, and everything you’ve been taught. Can you do that?”
A tense moment passed before they both squared their shoulders and nodded.
“It will be intense,” he warned. “Kind of like having your brain ripped out of your body and put on display. But it will be worth it afterwards, because after sharing everything, you won’t feel like you have to hide anything, and it’ll be smooth sailing from there and on.”
Again, they nodded, as if they were warming up to the idea. And wasn’t that a power trip, that two of the most skilled Jaeger pilots of their generation listened to him? Eddie could get used to this.
“Right,” he said, trying to bring some levity back to the situation. “So, anything I need to know before we jump in?” Remembering that they weren’t really talking in private, he added, “That you wouldn’t mind being recorded, obviously.”
Once again Billy and Steve glanced at each other, but this time they both … burst out laughing. Huh. Eddie didn’t expect that, but it was better than them ignoring each other.
“Uh,” Steve said. “No, thanks.”
“You’ll find out in the drift anyway,” Billy said. “Let’s just … keep it there, okay?”
There was another layer to his question, almost like a plea. Eddie nodded. “Of course. What we share in the drift, stays in the drift. Agreed?”
The smiles melted off their faces as they adopted identical serious expressions. “Agreed.”
Eddie couldn’t help but feel they’d just made a pact of some sort. Something sacred.
“Okay then.” He addressed the voice that he knew was listening. “Hey, uh. Mr. Voice-man? We’re done, thanks.”
The voice returned a couple of seconds later, “Right. You’re back on speaker.” And Eddie had to hand it to the guy, he sounded entirely professional and not at all like someone who had heard Eddie encourage two of the most prominent Jaeger pilots of their time to do the exact opposite of what they had been trained to do. Eddie should probably find out who this guy was, and get him a fruit basket or something.
“Are you ready?”
Billy and Steve turned forward and straightened up in their getup, and Eddie did his best to imitate them.
“Hargrove, ready.”
“Harrington, ready.”
A beat, then Eddie realize that they were waiting for him. “Munson, also ready.”
“Countdown to initiation. Five … four …”
Eddie was almost never nervous about a neural handshake these days, but despite his bravado during his little speech, he felt himself tensing up.
“… three …”
Everything about this was new; the people, the location, the goddamn Jaeger!
“… two …”
f*ck, what had Eddie gotten himself into?
“Is it too late to back out?”
“… one. Initiating neural handshake.”
And then he was falling, and the world turned brilliantly white.
He’d always enjoyed the initial part of the handshake. It was chaos, pure and distilled, and it gave him a rush like nothing else to let it flow through him and wrangle it into something more manageable. He immersed himself in the pandemonium for a moment, and then emerged from it, looking for whoever was in here with him. Usually, it was just the one person, but he could immediately feel that that wasn’t the case this time. It was something about the flow – as if the familiar chaos was off-beat somehow. Like when listening to two songs at once, it took him a moment to separate them into two different beats; two different people.
They were still in the mayhem around them; silent. Good boys, waiting for him to make a move. Carefully, he mentally reached out to them both. Like extending a hand, only in two directions at once. Vaguely, he thought that perhaps he should take it slow and feel them out one by one, but also – he didn’t know how to pick just one of them, and let the other wait. Would it shut the other one out of the bond forever? He had no way of knowing, because this hadn’t been done before. So he did what he always did – improvised, and jumped right in.
He could feel them when they accepted his outstretched hands, because a jolt ran through them all and the white started flickering. And then, like turning on a faucet, he opened up his own mind – just a trickle at first – and let himself be Seen.
It was terrifying, as it always was, but he’d meant it when he said that there were no secrets in the drift. He fed them all parts of himself; the good, the bad, the ugly and uncensored.
Memories of his mom playing her guitar when he was a kid, the fun he had with his friends in the band they started when he was fourteen, the joy of creating, the memory of his first kiss, watching the sun come up over the horizon from the roof of the Indiana Shatterdome, Wayne’s smile every time Eddie gifted him with another ugly mug.
Everything that was warm and wondrous inside Eddie, he gave them.
But also the memories of his dad, the smell of stale beer on the man’s breath when he got too close and yelled or swung at him, the way Eddie used to run away and hide in the woods outside the compound, the time when some guys in school stole his clothes and shoved him into the cafeteria and how the humiliation made him want to die, his despair at his first heartbreak, the feeling of rejection when his then-best-friend abandoned him for the popular crowd.
Everything that was cold and painful within him, he gave them.
And then the secrets. The things one weren’t supposed to admit to people. Flashes of the magazines he used when he jerked off, memories of that time when he got so drunk that he soiled himself in his sleep, that time as a kid when he’d yanked the wings off a butterfly and watched it die, all the times he’d lied to Wayne’s face, some of his weirder kinks, how he’d once laid next to and kissed his best friend when the guy was passed out drunk.
Everything that was supposed to be secret and taboo and not talked about, Eddie gave them.
And they took it. They took everything he fed them, and accepted it without any indication of wanting to pull away. If this had been a normal drift, now would be when Eddie would coax some memories out of his partner in return, setting up that two-way bond for the exchange of selves … But this wasn’t a normal drift. This wasn’t a two-way street. Eddie had never done this before. He had nothing to rely on but his experience – and instinct.
And what his instinct said to do, was to – metaphorically – bring his hands together so that Billy’s and Steve’s hands touched, too. He expected a reaction, possibly a strong one.
What he got was an explosion.
Steve was in front of his father, who kept telling him how disappointed he was. Steve’s grades weren’t good enough, he wasn’t applying himself enough, he would never reach his full potential at this rate, he was a disgrace –
Billy was grinning at his mom at the beach, running towards her in the sand and the water, shouting ‘Did you see? Did you see, mom? It was at least seven feet!’ and she smiled and there was a surfboard there, and even though he was wet and sandy she hugged him close and he buried his face in the fabric of her dress –
Eddie was backstage after his very first gig, with his bandmates, high on life and music, drinking a milkshake of all things and laughing so hard that milkshake shot out of his nose, and it burned but it didn’t matter because they’d done it –
Steve was in bed with Nancy and he loved her, she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen and she’d chosen him. He was almost afraid to touch her because even if he knew that she was a great badass fighter she seemed so delicate like this, like she would break at the first touch –
Billy was in bed, crying, his sobs aggravating sore ribs. The thin blanket was coarse against bruised skin and his pillow wet from his tears. His mom was gone and his dad was so angry, kept shouting ‘it should have been you!’ and Billy knew that, he knew –
Eddie forgot to eat again. He got so immersed in the game he’d devised with his friends that he forgot to eat, and now he was hungry, but the cafeteria was closed and his dad wasn’t home and there was no food in their fridge or cupboards –
Steve was alone in a big house. He was twelve years old and all his friends lived in the Dome, but since Steve’s dad was important, they had a house outside the complex. His parents weren’t home. They were almost never home these days. The housekeeper had left for the day and Steve wished he lived in a room in the Dome instead, like Tommy, like the rest of his friends –
Billy was hurting, the drift chafed with his father there instead of his mom; where his mom had been light like air and malleable like water, his dad was a rock that kept pulling him down, forcing him into obeying – not accepting anything but total control, forcing the bond, bullying himself into Billy’s mind and using whatever he saw there against him. fa*ggot, spineless, disgrace, Billy heard the words being spit in his direction and what’s worse; felt them being hurled against his soul because there are no secrets in the drift and Billy’s dad hated him –
Eddie’s dad had left and Eddie was sitting on a chair along a wall, too afraid to move. He didn’t know what was going to happen to him now, he was too young to earn his keep, he had no mom and no dad and no siblings. Suddenly Uncle Wayne was there, saying he’d take care of Eddie now, and Eddie didn’t dare to believe it because he’d seen Uncle Wayne’s room and it was so small, but maybe Eddie could make himself small enough to fit –
Steve saw Hargrove in the flesh for the first time and it was like a punch to the throat, he was even more radiant in person and Steve forgot to listen to the introductions so his dad had to subtly nudge him with an elbow –
Billy was pushed up against a wall, Steve’s mouth on his –
(Oh, a part of Eddie – that was still himself – had the wherewithal to think. That’s why.)
– and Billy wanted, wanted so badly, had everything he wanted right here in the form of Steve’s hands on him but wanted more nonetheless, more, but it was dangerous to want this much because it would just hurt more when he lost it –
Billy pushed Steve away, and Steve was hurt, and he sneered something to cover up the hurt and Billy sneered back and pushed him again, and –
Both of them hurt, both of them wanted, none of them dared –
Eddie got an F on another test. Hid the feeling of failure behind a grin, knew he had to retake a year, knew things were changing, knew he would lose his friends –
Steve saw Nancy and Jonathan on the news, and even after a year it still hurt, seeing another where he once was; by Nancy’s side in the co*ckpit, by Nancy’s side in interviews, in Nancy’s bed and heart. He lost her a long time ago but it still hurt –
Billy was in the co*ckpit with his Mom, they were connected, they were one. Drifting seamlessly, as it was supposed to be, the only thing easy in a world where everything else was hard. They’d been drifting together for years, despite Billy being so young. He was now the youngest ever to pilot a Jaeger in Kaiju fights, and it should be taking a toll on him but it was effortless with Mom next to him. Even out of the drift their bond remained sometimes in what was called the ghost drift, they’d laugh at things they didn’t need to say out loud (and Neil hated it) and when they were in Cam together they were an unstoppable force. Moved like one, thought like one, fully synchronized together and becoming their Jaeger.
Billy and his mom were fighting a Category Three. They were in the middle of the fight when Command hailed them, warned them of another incoming Kaiju, a Category Four this time. Billy felt a tendril of fear from Mom like it was his own, but it crystalized into determination, and they increased their efforts of disposing of the first threat. And they did, they succeeded. But not until the second Kaiju was upon them.
BillyandMom fought, they fought well. But the Category Three had rendered Cam’s right arm useless, the one on Mom’s side, and no matter how many times they hit the Category Four it just got back up. Cam took a hell of a beating (like Mom did from Neil before she got into the public eye); they were losing steam, they were losing energy, they were losing parts to the waves below.
BillyandMom had one last chance; the long-distance weapons didn’t work anymore but they had the sword on the arm that they could still move. But to use it, they’d need to get close. Too close, in their condition. It was dangerous (worth it). Too dangerous (they could save so many lives). But they did it anyway (had to).
‘I love you,’ Mom thought at him as they charged, and they screamed in tandem as they let the Category Four grab a hold of them and pull them close, close enough for them to put their sword through its body, close enough to go for the kill.
‘I love you,’ Mom thought at him as the Category Four clawed at the co*ckpit and the metal groaned around them and sparks flew, as they used their last reserves to bring the sword forward and up, slicing through the alien body that had them in its grip.
‘I love you,’ Mom thought at him as the world was ripped apart and the co*ckpit was pried open and the rain hit them from above and a wall of claws separated them.
Panic, pain, confusion. The noise was overwhelming, the storm above and the metal around them being ripped apart and the monster roaring as it died and BillyandMom screaming, screaming, screaming –
Billy’s Mom died screaming, and so did he. They were connected, they were one, and so he felt her panic and pain as his own; felt her reach out to him, no thoughts left but lovelovelove, as if she was desperate to push all the love she held for him at him to soften the blow that would kill them.
She died, and they were still connected, and Billy’s very being was ripped apart. The lovelovelove turned into a severed connection, leaving him flayed open and bleeding out, leaving him with nothing where Mom used to be, leaving him screaming until there was no air left in his lungs, until there was no voice left in his throat, until his wheezing breaths were louder than the storm, than the rain, than the waves.
She died. And Billy died with her.
People talk a lot about the calm before the storm, Eddie thought numbly as he tried to get some air back into his lungs, but another peculiar kind of calm is the calm after an explosion. The ringing silence after overwhelming noise; trying to get back to one’s feet after having been thrown to the ground. How everything is simultaneously moving too slow and too fast.
He drew in too much air and choked on it. Coughed. Blinked rapidly to try to get his eyes to focus. Raised shaky hands to fumble at the helmet, managed to get it unbuckled, threw it to the side somewhere without looking where it landed. Ignoring the frantic voices from the discarded helmet and the intercom, as well as the beeping alarms and the blinking lights, he took in his surroundings and the sight before him.
He was in a co*ckpit (and oh god the metal was ripping apart, Mom was torn away from him) and he wasn’t alone (he reached out for empty space, Mom’s side of the co*ckpit was empty); Billy and Steve were there with him (not Mom. Not Mom).
Shaking his head to try to get back to himself, he pulled on the straps and levers to disengage his armor from the machinery that connected him to the Jaeger. It took a few fumbled attempts, but he finally managed. He also managed to stay on his feet, even though he had to hold onto the big metal arm he’d been connected to in order to avoid falling on his face.
It had been years since he’d lost himself like this in the drift, and it was jarring. But he still fared better than his co-pilots, who – while they’d disengaged much faster than him – were both on their hands and knees in front of their stations, panting and gasping for breath.
He didn’t just see them, Eddie realized with a start. He felt them, too.
Ghost drifting. It didn’t happen to him a lot these days, but this drift had been overwhelming for all of them. Suddenly, he was overcome with the need to make sure they were all right, and so he stumbled forward towards the two of them. They’d also throw off their helmets – Eddie saw one of them at the far end of the co*ckpit – and when he got closer, he could see their faces.
Their pale, clammy faces. They were both crying. Seeing that made Eddie realize that there were tears running down his own cheeks, too. Not that it mattered. No one here would judge him for it. They’d all gotten sucked into Billy’s memory of his mom dying – his mom dying while they were connected – and they’d felt what he felt. Billy had re-lived it, Eddie had lived it for the first time, and Steve –
Steve was shaken to his core; staring right at Billy, who was making his way over on his hands and knees.
“You …” Steve started, panting. Eddie could still feel his heart beating, in sync with his and Billy’s, almost as if they were still connected. “You …” His eyes welled up with tears.
Billy, kneeling in front of him with one hand on his knee, looked devastated. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you.”
“I didn’t know,” Steve panted, new tears welling up in his eyes. “I didn’t know.”
He kept repeating it even as both Billy and Eddie reached out to touch him – instinctively trying to alleviate his distress. He could have been talking about how it felt to feel your partner die in the drift – very few people did; Billy might actually be the only one alive right now have that particular piece of knowledge, not counting Eddie and Steve, who had just learned it second-hand. But somehow Eddie knew that Steve also meant ‘I didn’t know about your dad’ and ‘I didn’t know that you pushed me away because you were afraid’ and ‘I didn’t realize that you wanted me’.
Because while learning about each other in the drift was always a whirlwind of emotions, it hit especially hard if you cared about that person. Or so Eddie had heard.
And Steve had cared. So had Billy. They still cared, which was why Billy’s hand was now at Steve’s face, his thumb rubbing over tear-streaked skin. In return, Steve had Billy’s wrist in a death grip, his fingers over Billy’s pulse point, as if he was trying to make sure he was still there, still alive.
Eddie would feel like a third wheel if it wasn’t for the fact that Steve was very obviously leaning into him, and Billy’s unoccupied hand was holding Eddie’s where Eddie was gripping his shoulder.
Something was happening here. Something unprecedented. Their consciousnesses had merged together during the drift, had melted together like shattered glass under intense heat; into a big blob of melted glass, a slowly cooling mixture of what had previously been individual pieces.
Eddie wet his lips and swallowed as he let himself settle into this new thing. It should be frightening, but it wasn’t.
It was like coming home.
The door to the co*ckpit was forced open, and they turned as one (eerie) and Eddie met the first man’s eyes and shook his head.
“Give us a minute.” He almost didn’t recognize his own voice for a second, it sounded wrong when it was just him.
Eddie realized suddenly that there’d been noise all around them for a while now; blaring alarms, panicked voices shouting at them, banging on the metal door as they tried to get in. Strange. He’d barely heard them over the sound of Billy’s and Steve’s heartbeats and breaths.
Their hearts beat in sync, now, all three of them. It felt right.
The men at the door looked over their shoulder, probably seeking advice from a superior, and Eddie repeated, “Give us a minute.” He channeled Steve’s seemingly effortless confidence and Billy’s don’t-mess-with-me attitude – and it came so easy to him, because they were right there with him – and said, “We need a minute, alone.”
Miraculously, they listened. The men backed out of there. The voices quieted. The alarms were turned off.
Distantly, Eddie knew that they were still there, that they were still listening, that they were still monitoring their vitals and brainwaves and what not. But it didn’t matter in the moment. All that mattered was –
“You good?” He didn’t know if it was him or Billy that asked the question, but Steve took a deep breath and – with some effort – managed to put himself together (like he’d done so many times before; swallow the hurt, put on a brave face).
“Good boy,” Eddie said in an attempt to lighten the mood, but also meaning it. A ghost of a smile appeared on Steve’s face, then on Billy’s, and then – helplessly – on Eddie’s as well.
He sat down on the floor, heavily, from where he’d been crouching. Steve immediately leaned in as if his strings had been cut, his head ending up resting on Eddie’s shoulder while he pulled the hand holding Billy’s wrist closer. Billy flattened his hand on Steve’s chest, and even though there were layers of fabric and armor between them, it seemed to calm them both. Eddie let out a sigh of relief – or maybe it was Steve, or Billy – and used his grip on Billy’s shoulder to pull him closer to him. Billy allowed it, until they were basically in a cuddle huddle. Just Eddie and two of the best Jaeger pilots of their time in a pile of limbs and top-of-the-line armor on the pristine floor of the co*ckpit of the most expensive piece of machinery ever built, holding each other and breathing together.
If anyone, just a few days ago, had told Eddie this would happen, he would have laughed in their faces.
“So,” he eventually said, because someone had to break the silence at some point, and that was his specialty. “That sure was something, huh?”
That elicited a couple of weak laughs, but none of them moved.
“We sure merged those lanes though,” Steve said after a beat, his voice low and raspy.
“A proper pile-up,” Billy added. They laughed again, because yeah.
After another breath, Steve said, “But it worked.”
It wasn’t a question. They all knew when there was a solid connection, and despite the overwhelming intensity of their first drift, they all felt what had been forged between them. But just to get a confirmation – because Eddie had found that while machinery could measure a lot, they could not capture everything – Eddie said, out loud;
“Hey, Mr. Voice-man? Sorry, I don’t know your name. How did we fare?”
There was a moment of silence, then the same voice that had counted down before came back over the speakers, “The neural handshake was strong.” A beat passed, and then the voice added, in more of a mutter and somewhat less-professionally, “More like a neural sucker-punch, actually.” That had all three of them laughing, and it was freeing. Like a discharge. “And the name’s Mick.”
“Sucker-punch sounds about right,” Eddie said and threw a mock salute at the ceiling. He didn’t actually know if there were cameras, but figured there probably were. “Nice to meet you, Mick.”
Then he turned to the two men that were half in his lap and fully in his arms. “Alright. Sounds like we passed. And don’t worry, this was the biggest step.” Like he’d said before; there would be no surprises, after this. “We already know everything there is to know about each other.” Like how Steve liked his pancakes and how Billy liked his eggs, or how Steve used to love loved carding through Billy’s hair and how Billy’s fingers itched to trace Steve’s moles and how both of them were leaning into Eddie’s touch with a curious mix of attraction and a feeling of safety.
It was enough to make a grown man blush. Not that Eddie did – he’d seen worse things in the drift, after all – but he did clear his throat a bit. Billy and Steve both looked up, similar smirks on their faces as if they knew what he was thinking, and oh.
Oh, Eddie was going to have his hands full with these two.
“We should probably … talk,” he said. “Somewhere private.”
“He hates talking,” Steve quipped and motioned to Billy.
“Hey!” Billy said and managed to keep the mock-offended expression on his face for two whole seconds before it was replaced with a smile. “But yeah, you’re right.” He gave an acknowledging nod. “Both of you.”
“Okay”, Eddie said and reluctantly let go of his boys (and when did they become his?) so he could get onto his feet. He then reached out for both of them and let them use their grip on him to pull themselves to their feet, too. “Let’s get out of here, then. The worst is done. It’s all smooth sailing from here and on.”
A snort from Billy, and an amused smile from Steve, who raised his eyebrows slightly as he said, “Yeah, except for the whole Kaiju-fighting part.”
That was enough to stop Eddie in his step, because somewhere in the middle of everything that had happened in the last couple of days, Eddie had somehow managed to forget about that part.
And oh sh*t. Eddie was going to have to go into battle and fight giant monsters for a living.
He was definitely going to insist on that raise.
![Smooth sailing - Thei - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)](data:image/png;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAAAEAAAABCAQAAAC1HAwCAAAAC0lEQVR42mP8/h8AAvMB+NzmkbcAAAAASUVORK5CYII=)