Chapter Text
The alert rings through the bunker at 3am. Lights flash and bring Marco’s mind towards consciousness. The sound of footsteps inches with trepidation through Marco’s room as if their owner did not want to be heard. In his sleepiness, the presence of another person in his room sounds more calming than unfamiliar, and hardly suspicious in his morning grogginess.
“You… uh… getting up, Marco?” a warm and unexpected voice calls out. It sounds amused but is little more than a passing whisper.
Marco growls sleepily in return, turning over towards the sound in amongst a swirl of cotton sheets, revealing his bare skin as it brushes across him. At the sound of a zipper, Marco’s eyes snap open to the view of Jean’s backside as he dresses. The muscles of his back ripple as he pulls his shirt over his head and, as if sensing Marco’s eyes, he clears his throat.
Jean’s not usually… he begins to think before he sits up suddenly, sheets falling down to his waist. The cold chill in the air reminds him that he fell asleep naked, prompting him to cover his lap before Jean turns.
Jean’s eyes flicker for a moment to meet Marco’s. An unsure smile twitches at the corner of Jean’s lips before his expressions changes, and he looks down and away. Not another word passes between them as Marco dresses. Jean stands in the corner with his arms crossed like a silent guard.
Last night’s clothes are strewn around the room. Marco has no time to put them away as they leave.
An uneasiness claws at him as he walks a few steps behind Jean. His hurry this morning is more than his usual enthusiasm.
Jean might be tense about waking up in a room other than his own. Perhaps last night has him on edge. Jean’s pent up frustration worked itself out in one night of impulse, leaving an empty and awkward void between them. Jean can't even look at his face. Even being close to him seems to make him uncomfortable. His muscles tense the closer Marco gets. Perhaps Jean hadn’t been as ready for that as he thought.
Embarrassment swarms over him and he can feel the heat rush through his cheeks as he greets the team. They suit him up but say nothing. Marco’s mind reels at the secret Jean and him now share. He hopes that no one else can tell, but secrets like these never last for long around here. The presence of others is welcome distraction. Jean says nothing to the team as they attach the last of his armor. Marco thinks for just a moment that he can see Jean sneaking glances at him, but shrugs it off as wishful thinking.
Heavy boots trudge in and Marco is faced with the commanding eyebrows of Marshal Smith. His back straightens itself before he can change the worried look on his face. Erwin Smith, former pilot of the Umber Valiant, misses nothing. He spent years of his life piloting a jaeger with Levi, a former black market dealer of kaiju organs. Secrets were something he could always detect.
“Are you prepared for this, Bodt?” he asks, leaning forward and crossing his arms behind his back as he looks down at Marco.
“We’re fine, sir,” Jean answers, to Marco’s surprise -- The first words he had said since this morning.
The marshal stands still for a moment, clicking his tongue as he considers them, and with a confirming nod of his head he leaves the room. Apparently Jean’s answer was satisfactory.
As they come to the cockpit, it becomes evident how hard it will be this time. Marco sighs and tries to stretch out the tension in his back. He can sense that this will not go well as he takes his place on the right and straps himself in.
ENGAGE PILOT PROTOCOL
The computerized voice rings through Chimera Delta. It prods Marco back into a focused state of mind. He glances over to Jean, but he does not look back. Jean stares straight ahead, stiff with an apparent sense of purpose, but Marco can tell he isn’t in the present with him.
“You boys ready for this today?” Petra’s voice follows through on the comms. Marco peers out at the water before them as they make the drop. It appears unnaturally calm. Marco can’t tell if it’s just his nerves forcing him to hide the wavering in his voice as best he can before he answers.
He leans across and presses the comms button. “As ready as we ever are.”
“Right. Right.” The smile in her voice makes Marco smile, too. Petra always had their back. “We’ve got a signature just a few miles from the coastal wall. Codename Skorpios.”
“Typical.” Jean mutters from his side.
“Prepare for neural handshake.” Petra calls in the distance. “Starting in fifteen seconds.”
Marco’s finger falls off the comms button. “Are you okay, Jean?”
Jean snaps his head in Marco’s direction. His eyes are open wide and his mouth agape, as if he forgot Marco could speak. A strange look clouds his face; red flushes across his cheeks. “Yep. Fine.”
“Eleven seconds.” Petra continues to countdown.
“All right…” Marco doesn’t believe him but nods nonetheless. “I’ll be in your head soon.” Marco turns forward again, saying flatly, “Whatever you’re not telling me, I’ll know.”
Marco thinks for a moment that he heard Jean cough but there is no movement as he watches him from the corner of his eye to make sure.
NEURAL HANDSHAKE INITIATED
They enter the drift like they’re both stable and falling at once. Pulsing through his mind Marco can feel Jean’s discomfort, his embarrassment, and the struggle to remain focused as his mind darts around memories of last night. Images flicker and flash through their minds like the hundred times before, filling both their minds as they meet and meld together.
Their childhood memories mix. Scenes Marco has seen a hundred times before. There’s a kitchen with a wooden table. A large omelette steams in front of little Jean’s hands, reaching out for cutlery as giggling tumbles out of him. The sky and ground spin as little Marco rolls down a hill of freshly cut grass. He sits up and brushes the grass off corduroy pants and his mother’s arms embrace him from behind.
The sound of wood smacking against each other comes through next. Marco’s view of Jean floats into view. His cocky smile and lean of his left leg shows how sure he is that his left-handedness will give him an advantage in their first sparring session. His tank is soaked in sweat, stains developing under his arms and at the neck. Marco stifles a laugh. The memory is too vivid for him and he reminds himself that the drift is silence. Anything he says might mess with the neural handshake.
Thwack, thwack, thwack. One strike follows another. Jean’s shoulders glisten under the fluorescent lighting. They grunt at each other as they train. This is first of many training sessions to come. The image flickers and swirls, fast forwarding and seeming to spin. Now the image fades to focus on Marco’s abs, as he stands a shirtless opponent. It is an extraordinarily long look before suddenly Marco flies out of view and the ceiling takes his place. Wind is pushed out of his lungs. Marco’s face looms over with an expression somewhere between concern and triumph. He throws his weapon over his shoulder and offers Jean a hand.
The view switches almost instantly to one of a huffing Marco above Jean, a hand grasping at Jean’s shoulder as he gears up for another thrust.
“Jean!” Marco calls out, trying to snap Jean’s mind back into really. The visions quickly change back and the scenes end.
RIGHT HEMISPHERE CALIBRATING
Marco stretches out his arms as he always does. The alignment takes mere moments. Jean, to his left, follows a moment after.
LEFT HEMISPHERE CALIBRATING
In perfect sync, they move together,and Chimera Delta moves with them. Not much more than a junk project by Ymir, it held its own within the new class of jaeger and, more importantly, stood against the kaiju. Chimera Delta was built as an amalgamation of three decommissioned jaegers in a time where material supply was low. Despite the haphazard way it was put together, it moved like a dream.
CALIBRATION COMPLETED
“You want to tell me why you’re so nervous?” Marco asked among the thuds of the steps they took in unison. The ocean waves gave way before them as they soldered forth.
Jean answers quicker than he expects. His voice is flat, though Marco can feel the lie. “New kaiju. New fight. They’re calling this one Skorpios. It’s pretty evident what level of shit we’re dealing with this time.”
Marco nods and hums in thought. Jean no doubt sees and hears everything that he can. Regardless, he feels it necessary to ask what has been plaguing him since the morning. “We’re okay, though?”
“Let’s not do this now. I’m not having Petra hear this.”
Petra’s lilting voice chimes in right on time as always. “Having a lover’s spat?”
“No, Petra!” Jean protests, stabbing at the comms button and fueling his frustration into his steps.
She laughs in their ears. Her voice crackles in the headset as they make their way further out to sea. “It sure sounds like it from here. I don’t even need to hear you two to know something’s going on.” She stops speaking for a moment to take a deep breath. “Did something happen?” The smirk grows in her voice. They can both hear it. “Finally?”
Jean and Marco exchange a look. Marco chooses to be the one to speak this time. “He’s bad enough as it is. I need him present, Petra.”
There are a few seconds of silence before she responds, serious this time. “You’re coming up on the signature now.”
It’s hard to mistake the kaiju as they approach. Beneath the waves, a bright blue glow marks its location in the dark. It’s unlike anything Marco or Jean have seen before. They’ve seen kaiju blue before. They had seen the way that kaiju glowed in their eyes, their tongues, their gills, and in fissures across their body, but this is something else. From what Marco can see, its entire arthropodic body is glowing a brilliant blue.
Water surges up from the depths as they near the glow. Two gigantic claws rise, water dripping and falling from them as they reach up, and open as if they they want to pierce the sky as well. With eight legs it thrusts itself forward directly towards them, claws outstretched.
“We got this,” Jean affirms, more to himself than to Marco. He huffs as he leans into a punch and sends Delta’s left arm into Skorpios’ beady left eye. The kkaiju reels back for a moment but it insists in its assault. Its front two legs scrape into the jaeger’s legs as it pushes itself upwards. Claws dart at the cockpit. Marco joins the fray, punching under the right claw, forcing it upwards. The claw scrapes along the side of the jaeger, shaking the entire unit. Sparks fly from the electrical panel at the impact.
Jean misses the left claw as it grabs for their left leg. It pierces through the jaeger as it clamps down like their armor was nothing more than aluminum sheeting. Computer screens fill their view with red text as the alarms sound.
“It’s broken the lines!” Marco yells.
Jean nods and meets Marco’s gaze, confident and determined, “I’ve got this.”
Delta’s left arm slams into the claw and dislodges its grasp. In swift succession, its right claw strikes the cockpit again. Red text continues to flash and in all the shaking, Marco manages to grasp the claw with Delta’s right hand.
“You’ve got to grab the other one!” Marco screams through his huffing as he fights with the kaiju’s resistance. It pulls back and thrashes in the water.
Jean follows Marco’s orders and shoves his arm after the kaiju. In three quick strikes it knocks the arm aside. Delta struggles to stay upright and sways, leaving Marco struggling to maintain the grip on Skorpios. He grunts in his frustration.
“Just a second!” Jean yells in response. “I almost --” The arm dives for the other claw and grabs it with its large metal fist. “Got it!”
The kaiju roars. It’s a loud, piercing screech from deep within that segmental body. The water of the ocean below them rushes out of the way as the two giants come clashing together. As Jean and Marco stare out of their visor, the glow of the kaiju seems so bright it that it blinds in the darkness.
Marco asks in a desperate rasp, “Can you charge the plasma cannon?”
Jean tries to move his arm, but fails. “No. Fuck!”
Marco grunts one more time as he struggles. His eyes close as he grasps hold as tightly as he can manage, trying to get the plasma cannon to charge. If only they could knock the claws away, Marco could fire up his cannon. If there was one thing the Delta lacked, it was weaponry. Nothing seems more important than fighting back right now. Marco grunts again and he feels Jean slipping away from him.
“Jean?” He turns to see Jean staring ahead. His eyes are wide, but he’s not with Marco anymore. He can feel it. As the images flash through his mind while he’s fighting to maintain a hold of the creature looming over them, he can see it too. “Now’s not the time -- Fuck!”
LEFT HEMISPHERE OUT OF ALIGNMENT
The cabin is rocked by a large impact. Marco leans toward to keep the Delta upright as it begins to fall back. Both claws still within their jaeger’s grasp, Marco stares out before him, confused by the blow. There’s only two arms. The legs are clawing away Delta’s armor at the legs. Marco’s answer rises up in front of him, undulating in the sky like a snake. The kaiju has a spiked tail and, worst of all, despite the grip they had, it could reach them.
Marco closes his eyes as it hits for a second time. It cracks the glass. Splintered pieces fall inside and shake into the wiring. The tail slides across the screen, leaving a large scratch in its wake. It’s trying to get them, Marco concludes.
Jean’s distraction begins to blur Marco’s vision. He can see his own desperate gasping into the pillow, Jean’s glance down as he undresses, and he feels their first long, exploratory kiss. The sound of last night’s moans echo through his head as he tries to hold onto reality while Jean remains in the drift trying to escape it. Marco’s world seems to be falling apart as the kaiju roars again.
“Jean. Stay with me.” Marco calls out, unable to look away from the tail raising for a third strike. “I can’t have you doing this right now.”
The kaiju thrashes, clawing at the legs. It tears out the wires and part of the oxygen supply. Red letters scream in his view what Marco already knows: they don’t have long.
“Don’t chase the rabbit. Don’t run from this,” he screams, trying to block the images from his mind while calling Jean back out again. He could not do this alone. “I need you here, dammit.”
Petra’s voice calls out like an angel from the heavens. “What’s going on out there? Jean’s out of alignment.”
“Jean’s chasing.” Marco barks back. He has no time to give specifics. The jaeger’s left arm begins to slip from the kaiju’s claw.
“Oh shit.” She takes a deep breath. Her voice turns to one of concern, helpful but stern in his ear, and it keeps him grounded. “Have you got an eye on the kaiju?”
“We’re holding it, but it won’t be for long.”
“Do you need Harlequin?”
“No, I’ve got this. We’ve got this.” Marco darts a worried glance at Jean, who is still not responding.
“I can have Springer and Braus suiting up now. Are you sure?”
Marco licks his lips. He wasn’t sure, but they could do this. “I’m sure.”
“I’m here if you need me.” The comms click. She would be watching them intently now, calling upon the Harlequin Menace crew regardless of what he said. She was always predictable like that.
Skorpios screeches again, climbing up Delta with its claws digging into its armor. Its left claw falls from its prison and pulls back instantly into striking position. It leans forward almost triumphantly, fully poised to strike.
Marco's eyes begin to tear up as he faces the glowing blue giant. For a moment, he swears its beady eyes can see him shaking. Whether it is in fear or the physical struggle, he does not know. Jean is already lost, and he will be next.
There is a gut-wrenching sound when the spike pierces the cockpit. To Marco it seems like the sound metal would make if it could scream. A mixture of pity and fear seems to grow in his stomach as the spike edges closer, barely a foot above him.
"Jean!" he cries, the sound garbled and unearthly. There's a blur of glowing blue and a searing pain claws down his neck as it eats through his suit. It tickles and bites at his shoulder as it drips down. The vision in his right eye is a distorted mess.
The shriek of agony he emits sounds foreign. The voice seems to have come from outside of him as his breathing labours. A dry retch shudders through him as he gasps for air and the oxygen supply continues to dwindle.
Eyelids close, eyes hiding away from screens of flashing red and yellow. Warnings sound in the background. It sounds far away as if muffled in the distance. Petra’s voice calls out in his ear, but it doesn’t reach him.
RIGHT HEMISPHERE OUT OF ALIGNMENT
The drift feels like a soft landing, warm and familiar, where he can find Jean’s face with barely a whisper of a thought. He finds him then, tossing in the sheets of a fond memory. He watches as Jean nudges his way between memory Marco’s arms as he stands above them both. Marco remembers this. He slips into the memory with Jean, draping his arm over him and pulling him close. His neck feels soft as he presses his lips against the nape. He smells of sandalwood and cedar. The peacefulness of it all is snuffed out as his body convulses, muscles twisting at the pain, and he hears his own scream again.
“Marco!” He swears he hears the voice beside him, but in this moment his world extends very little around him. “Shit!” it continues.
There’s a loud crunch and the jaeger shakes once again. Marco squints up before him, sight only possible through the left side of his visor. The spike disappears suddenly. Kaiju blue drips from the gaping hole where it forced its way in. Grunting and surprising himself, Marco still manages to hold onto the right claw. The tail raises up once more to the sky.
“Petra!” Jean’s voice shouts abruptly. “Marco’s injured.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Marco sees him adjust himself. His left arm is outreached and as Marco looks out into the distance, he chuckles, relieved, as he realises Jean has the creature’s tail in his grasp.
“You’re back,” Petra responds to him, as surprised as Marco felt. He stopped chasing. The comms click as she no doubt rushes to inform the Marshal.
“Yeah…. I’m back,” Jean whispers. He already sounds defeated. Whether by the creature or his own guilt, Marco cannot tell.
“Jean?” Marco’s voice sounds weaker than he thought it would. He struggles to say another word before Jean interrupts him.
“Are you okay?” Jean looks over at him, eyebrows furrowed with worry. Marco can see the fear in his eyes. “Shit. I fucked up. I --”
Marco interrupts, pulling his arm back into a locking position. “You hold. I shoot.”
The plasma cannon lights and spins as it charges. The kaiju’s left claw slams against the left arm but its raised position blocks its strike. It screeches as it slides down the side of the jaeger, deflected. The right darts back at the cockpit, but despite every slam, Marco holds his ground.
“Marco…” Jean begins.
“Just hold it steady.”
It’s bright when it hits. Glowing blue meets blinding white as the plasma beam connects and dissects the kaiju tail. Its roar cries out in defiance. Its legs still claw at the jaeger’s lower half. For a moment, they look at each other. The neural connection, though not perfect, begins to piece itself together. Like a firm embrace, it clicks back into place.
Jean winds up for the first hit. Frustration fuels his punch this time as he cracks Skorpios’ outer shell. Marco follows in pursuit, aiming for the crack. The kaiju screeches once again. Blue seeps from the open wound and the goo flies through the air like small shooting stars when Jean hits for a second and a third time. Marco pulls back his arm again for one more plasma cannon blast.
“One more should do it,” Marco yells through gritted teeth. It would be over soon.
The plasma cannon charges again, its hum a welcome relief between Marco’s struggling breaths.
“I’ll hold it off,” Jean assures between a flurry of punches, raising the jaeger arm as quickly as the old rustbucket was able. “Just hold on a little longer, Marco.”
Chimera Delta was cumbersome, made of old and used parts, and more likely to fall apart at the heavily soldered seams, but when they had a goal and they worked together, she got the job done. They all jolt as the plasma cannon unleashes its next volley. The beam slices through the creature, right through the head. Jean hits it again, sending it careening backwards. Water rushes upwards like it is trying to lay claim to the kaiju as it falls down, defeated.
Marco collapses in his suit as the creature drifts down, its glow fading into the black of the water below. He sighs, relieved. His eyes close and a black void takes him as the pain engulfs him again.
“Marco!” A clatter of metal comes from his left, and, as Marco slowly wakes and opens his eyes, he realises Jean is leaning over him, sans suit. “Marco,” he repeats. A warm hand cups Marco’s cheek as he feels the grating of the floor against his bare back. Jean must have removed his suit.
“You’re really lucky.” Jean smiles, though it looks more for Marco’s benefit. He looks as tired as Marco feels.
A thumb strokes over Marco’s right eyebrow. It’s a gentle touch but it stings and Marco flinches. “Oh, sorry.” Jean’s hand retreats back to holding Marco’s face. “It just missed your eye. You can see with it, right?”
“Yeah,” Marco coughs and splutters as he tries to laugh, “How is it?”
Jean assesses him, and Marco watches his face closely.
“There’s a bit of muscle damage along your right shoulder. Nothing too bad but they won’t know until they see it.” He pauses for a moment and smiles reassuringly. “It looks fine to me.” He tilts his head as he considers something with a small laugh and adds quietly, to himself, “I’d still do you.”
Marco raises his eyebrows, twinging a muscle in his right one but he ignores it. “Oh?”
Realising his slip, Jean simply stares. His face changes in color as the horror sets in. Marco simply chuckles at him, reaching up to pull Jean down to his face. Their lips meet for a moment before Marco sinks his fingers into Jean’s hair, moving back a little to stare straight into his eyes. “Good.” He takes a passing glance down to his right shoulder. It had blistered down to his forearm. The pain still seared away as if the kaiju blue was still there. He huffs, almost a little disappointed, “Just not right now.”