Work Text:
***
Changbin doesn’t sleep much these days.
His dreams are - difficult, fragmented, deep water and dark nights, ice and thunder and grief.
He dreams of the ocean, plunging into the icy depths, blue fading to black to oblivion. He dreams of the pain, cleaving him apart and in two. He dreams of blood, copper-iron in his mouth.
He dreams of Mina, her hair like a dark halo around her head, her smile stained red, sinking deeper, going under, her heart a gaping hole in her chest.
He dreams of how she died, and he wakes up screaming, in a cold sweat, his heart pounding in his ears, tears streaming down his face.
It’s easier, to just stay awake.
***
The thing about the Drift is that it never really lets you go. It's been nearly five months, and Changbin still sees Mina when he least expects it, perched at the edge of his bed, leaning against the billiards table in the break room, biting into a fruit tart while crossing the canteen. He still sees her memories in his brain - her first kiss, the taste of the fried chicken in Gangnam she loved, the stinging winds against her cheeks from her graduation trip to Tasmania. Their childhood recollections are overlaid like double-exposed film, two sides of a coin, mapping over each other, footballs and paper dolls and foreheads pressed together, two children in the mud, in the grass, in the sand, two children hand-in-hand. He catches himself sitting cross-legged on the bench, twirling his wrist the same way she did, mirroring gestures that no longer exist.
Changbin lost his drift partner and his co-pilot, but he also lost his sister, and that is arguably worse, the reminder that he is really, truly, all alone, just him and the ghosts in his head.
He’s coping badly, he knows, and he knows Jeongin knows, although the kid still lets him sit around in the hangar, watching the J-Tech teams work on the maintenance of Busan's Jaegers, glorious and intimidating even though they're technically just hunks of steel, solid and steadfast waiting to be called into action.
Horizon Grace sleeps soundly, at the bottom of the ocean, Mina, battered and broken, still in her embrace, and on darker days Changbin wishes he was with them, breathless beneath the waves.
"Hyung," Jeongin says, jolting him out of his reverie, "do you wanna get lunch?"
He's stripped out of his grease-stained coveralls, peeled off his gloves, and he's dressed down, just jeans and a sweaty t-shirt. He used to look so young, baby-soft and chubby cheeks, but now he's standing before Changbin as a man, sharp-jawed and lean.
"Sure," Changbin says, deliberately sing-song, slinging his arm around Jeongin's shoulders, "of course Binnie-hyung wants to eat with his cute little Jeonginnie."
"I've told you to knock it off with the third person," Jeongin complains, and they bicker their way down the corridors to the mess.
He’s coping badly, he knows, and he knows Jeongin knows, but he pastes on a mask anyway, he smiles and he teases, and it's a desperate bid to bury the pain beneath stupid jokes and cutesy voices, to pretend everything's okay for a few hours in the light.
***
Changbin doesn't sleep much, and his appetite is shit, but he does eat at least one meal a day because his friends drag him out of his bunk and force him into the line for food. Usually, by the time he gets his bearings he already has a tray in hand, laden with whatever the Busan Shatterdome’s kitchen crew have come up with, and his mother taught him to never waste food.
It’s how he finds himself seated at a table, staring down at pork and kimchi stew and white rice, three slices of watermelon next to a plate of steamed vegetables, along with a single slice of lemon cake.
He never liked lemon cake, but Mina loved it, and now he eats it whenever it comes up on rotation as some half-assed memorial to the woman he loved more than anything in the world.
Jeongin’s sitting beside him, already slurping on his stew, but Changbin waits for the rest of their group to join them. He can already see Chan and Felix making their way across the mess, the two of them moving in that half-sync characteristic of partners outside the Drift.
It hurts to see the other pilots sometimes, because it’s a reminder of what he lost. It's not like they can help it, but he looks at them and all he can see is Chan’s smile in Felix’s, Felix’s gestures bleeding into Chan’s, the two of them slipping in and out of each other’s orbits like silk, like water.
All he can feel is the gaping emptiness in his heart and his brain, reaching across the chasm to find no one reaching back.
He focuses on his stew instead, but manages a grin when the pilots of Eureka Alpha finally plop down into their seats. Felix bleached his hair blonde a few days ago, and it’s a peroxide-bright that stands out in the sea of dark hair and uniforms.
The PPDC is technically the military, but rangers get a free pass for most things because - well, how do you say no to people who make that sacrifice, who climb into giant machines two hundred feet tall, powered by nuclear energy and their brains, who willingly throw themselves into combat with toxic, monstrous extraterrestrials in order to protect the planet?
Changbin manages a grin for the two of them, and Felix smiles back, still pure sunshine.
“Changbin-hyung,” he says, voice deep and low, “you look exhausted, did you sleep well last night?”
“It was alright,” Changbin manages, which everyone knows means he didn’t actually get any shut-eye, and Felix reaches out, tangling their fingers together.
"You should try this tea I have,” he says, “chamomile, it’s good for sleep. I’ll pass some on to you.”
It’s a useless kindness, but Changbin is grateful for it all the same.
He opens his mouth to thank Felix - but he’s interrupted by a body flinging itself onto him, and he nearly topples out of his seat.
“Hyung,” Jisung all but wails, “Minho took the last slice of cheesecake! He's been inside my head, he knows I love cheesecake!”
“No one asked you to be slow,” Minho says, sitting down at the table. He’s carrying two trays, identical except that one has a perfect triangle of New York-style cheesecake, and the other a brownie slice, rich and dark, and he arches his brow at Jisung.
The younger man pouts, puffing up his cheeks, and his drift partner rolls his eyes.
“Take it,” Minho relents, and Jisung snatches up the plate of cheesecake before Minho can change his mind, licking the top of it like an animal marking its territory.
“You’re disgusting,” Jeongin informs him, but Jisung got this far in life by being utterly shameless, and so he just drops into his seat, taking a giant bite of his precious cheesecake.
Where Chan and Felix are fluid, their bond like a river running smooth, Minho and Jisung are like the eye of a storm, tempestuous and jagged, but when they meet in the middle they coalesce, falling into a rhythm only rivalled by old married couples.
“Where’s Seungminnie?” Changbin asks, and Jisung takes a loud slurp of his stew before he speaks.
“He’s caught up in a meeting with the Marshall - think we’re going to be seeing some fresh faces around here.”
“I hear we’re getting a new Jaeger,” Jeongin interjects.
“Well, that would probably be helpful,” Chan muses, “we’re doing fine with just Striker Intercept and Eureka Alpha, but we definitely could do with a third."
Changbin stays very quiet, letting the conversation flow around him, because - well, he and Mina had been Busan’s third pair of pilots, Horizon Grace Busan’s third Jaeger, for a glorious four years and three months.
And then Mutavore had shattered it all to pieces.
“Is this Jaeger coming with pilots?” Felix asks, “a team out of the academy maybe?”
“All the compatible pairs from the most recent batch have been assigned to other Shatterdomes,” a voice interjects, and Felix beams, scooting over to make space for Seungmin, who has the faint, exhausted look he always gets after long meetings.
Seungmin had been a year behind Changbin, at the academy, and even all the way in Busan they’d heard about his tactical genius, how putting him in the pilot’s seat would have been a waste of a keen-eyed strategist. The PPDC had pulled him straight into LOCCENT, after the second cut, and he now sits at the head of Busan’s mission control, despite his tender young age.
Chan frowns at Seungmin’s words.
“Then what’s the Jaeger for?”
“We’ll be running the drift compatibility tests,” Seungmin explains, skewering some chicken with his fork, “so we’re getting a bunch of academy hopefuls - oh, and Hwang Hyunjin.”
***
Everyone knows Hwang Hyunjin, or at least, they know of him. It’s hard not to, when the PPDC put him up on all the ranger recruitment posters, his megawatt smile splashed across TV screens around the world. He’s the perfect package - gorgeously, uncommonly handsome, big eyes and full lips and long limbs, and he's not just a pretty face either. He’d been top of his class, at the Jaeger Academy, impressive test scores across the board, and he was the perfect poster boy that the PPDC wanted in a cockpit, becoming the face of rangers around the world.
The only thing is - well, all the skill and talent in the universe are worth nothing if there’s no one in the Drift with you, and so far, no one’s been able to sync with Hwang Hyunjin enough to sit beside him in a Jaeger.
They’d routed him into K-Science, fuelled by his degree in veterinary science, as if knowing dog biology would help in figuring out how alien monsters worked, and sent him on what looked like a world tour of the different Shatterdomes, a search for his other half, sparring with and testing every potential candidate in pursuit of a co-pilot.
And now, he’s coming to Busan.
“What do they want to achieve by sending him here?” Jisung asks, later, when they're all squeezed in Chan and Felix's room.
It's movie night, Wreck-It-Ralph projected on the white wall across from their beds, and Changbin likes it mostly because Vanellope is adorable. Felix is curled up against him like a cat, and it's comfortable.
Seungmin hums.
“We’re getting a new Jaeger that needs a pair of pilots,” he says, simply, “Hwang Hyunjin is the most promising candidate for it, if he can just find a partner.”
“It must suck,” Felix says, “to not be able to find someone to drift with.”
Felix and Chan can’t relate. They’re a classic drift-compatible story, childhood friends who grew up in the same neighborhood in Sydney, who joined the academy together after K-Day, who pushed each other to their limits, who had connected via the neural bridge and discovered that they were completely in sync, two halves of a perfect whole, blood brothers turned brothers-in-arms.
Minho smiles, feline.
“You could wait forever and then you end up with someone who drives you mad,” he says, the tenderness in his voice softening the blow of his words, and Jisung rolls his eyes, even as he snuggles closer.
Minho spent almost two years unmoored, working in J-Tech, until a meeting with Jisung at the Shanghai Shatterdome turned into a melding of minds and souls, their sync reportedly off the charts.
Now, Jisung's head is on Minho's lap, Minho's fingers gentle against his scalp. The deep affection between them is palpable and constant, even when - especially when- they bicker with a familiarity usually only seen in couples married for forty years.
Changbin’s heart hurts.
“So they’re just gonna send him here with some new graduates from the academy and see if any of them can keep up with him in the Kwoon?” Jeongin interrupts, “it feels a little like shooting in the dark and hoping you’ll hit.”
“Well,” Seungmin says, so slowly and carefully, “it’s not just the new pilots they want to check his compatibility with.”
Realisation dawns upon the room, and somehow it dawns on Changbin last.
When it does, his heart starts jackrabbiting in his ears, and all he can see is blood and ice and deep water, the jerk back to consciousness and then darkness, tangled up and twisted.
He pushes himself to his feet.
“I have to go,” he says, and he barely makes it out the door, brushing off his friends’ concerns, waving away Seungmin’s apology, unfurling Felix's hand from his bicep, stumbling through the halls until he’s found his room through increasingly-blurred vision.
He lays on the floor, half buried in Mina’s quilt, and he cries.
***
Changbin’s world ends like this.
Mutavore is an ugly motherfucker, truly a mutated monstrosity, and he says as much to Mina when they drop, Horizon Grace cutting through the water like a bullet.
She laughs.
“Bin-ah,” she says, “they all look like that.”
“Yes noona, but this one is especially ugly,” he whines, and she giggles.
"Let's finish this quickly, I want to have grilled meat for dinner."
They strike swiftly, Horizon Grace’s plasma sword gliding through the air.
But the motherfucker’s got plating down its back, it's big and ugly and -
Well, it turns out Mutavore's been fucking misclassified, because it's way worse than it looks. It's already smacked Striker Intercept thirty miles out with a swipe of its tail, the impact crippling the Jaeger and absolutely destroying its arm, knocking both Minho and Jisung out and breaking their drift, and so it's up to Changbin and Mina, because Chan and Felix haven't even suited up - Eureka Alpha won't make it in time before Mutavore levels the Busan coastline.
They've got Horizon Grace braced against the monster, a no-holds-barred fight that has them practically wrestling the beast, parrying with their sword and cannons, trying to find a weak spot, Seungmin's voice in their ears calling out orders.
They've got the plasma blade in its belly, Changbin digs in and twists, and then Seungmin shouts, panicking.
"Pull back!"
He and Mina try to, but-
But they're too slow, and even as Mutavore succumbs to the sword in its stomach it's massive claw comes up - it curls around the right side of Horizon Grace, and rips it apart, the cockpit torn wide open.
Changbin feels it before it hits him, the searing red-hot pain, before he registers that the screaming is coming from him, but his chest isn't the one bleeding crimson.
"Noona!" he yells, desperate, undoing the straps fastening him to his seat in a desperate attempt to get to Mina, still tied to her in the Drift and seeing double - and then he feels it.
Horizon Grace topples, his head hits the back of his seat, and he blacks out.
He doesn't remember much, at least not in his conscious memory, darkness and deep water, ice and blood, but he sees Mina in his mind's eye, her heart a gaping hole in her chest, and then nothingness.
He washes up, unconscious but alive, hours later, bleeding from his head, on a beach mere miles from where Mutavore's blood is poisoning the water toxic and blue.
Mina, Horizon Grace, and the monster are nowhere to be found.
Changbin wakes up three days later in the hospital, and there are no words for how his soul has been ripped to pieces.
***
Changbin’s always been about discipline when it mattered - it’s how he completed art school, how he finished his apprenticeship, how he graduated from the academy, how he managed to become co-pilot of a fearsome giant robot - and even in grief it doesn’t leave him.
He doesn’t have much of a routine these days, not when he’s drifting through the Shatterdome, listless and unmoored, but he still goes to the gym, like clockwork, his workout routine the only consistent thing in a life that has melded into an endless stream of tears and grief.
He’s always been about discipline when it mattered, and this holds true even now, evident in the bicep curls and bench presses, in the katas he runs through. He still practices his form, still knows his way through the motions of the Kwoon Room, his rangers’ instinct still finely-honed and sharp.
He used to work out with Mina, every morning, but in the months since he’s taken to hitting the gym in the wee hours of the morning, when there is rarely another soul around and he can be alone, just him and his thoughts and the heavy shroud of mourning that hangs heavy on his head.
He’s in the gym, at three in the morning, and he’s by himself, running through the motions that are drilled into him - step, swipe, parry, step, swipe, duck, step, swipe, swing.
It’s instinct, and he follows it.
He’s just run through his last set, ending with a swift kick, and he registers footsteps.
Changbin stiffens, and turns around to see Marshal Park.
“Sir,” he says, saluting the man, and Park waves his hand.
“At ease, Ranger Seo,” he says, “it’s good to see that you’re still keeping active.”
Changbin winces inwardly, picking up his towel to wipe the sweat from his face.
“I don’t have much else to do at the moment, sir,” he says, and Park nods.
“I understand.”
There’s a moment of silence, as Changbin takes a swig of water, and he meets the Marshal’s gaze.
Park sighs.
“I have… a favour to ask, Ranger Seo.”
Changbin knows where this is going, and he can feel it burning in his gut.
“You’re almost cleared to return to active combat,” Park continues, and it's bullshit - Changbin passed all his physical evaluations easily, a month-and-a-half after Mina died, but his psych evals are a shitshow. He’s only allowed into the Kwoon under specific circumstances, all with supervision required, and drifting is frankly out of the question.
Honestly, he doesn’t want to go back in.
“You want me in a Jaeger with Hwang Hyunjin,” Changbin interrupts, before Park can go any further.
There’s a brief pause.
“We need you back out there, Ranger Seo,” Marshal Park says, soft and stern, “we need good people, good pilots, and while he could be one of the best, you’re one of the best."
Horizon Grace had racked up an impressive Kaiju kill count of fifteen in the years she’d been active, sixteen if you included her swan song, when she dragged a demon into the depths of the ocean, bringing one of her pilots with her.
"You don't even know if we're compatible," Changbin grits out.
Park sighs.
"But if you are, it could make all the difference."
Changbin’s hands are curled into fists, digging red crescent marks into his skin, and he’s shaking.
“Think about it,” Park says, and then he leaves.
Changbin drops down to the floor, and sits there for a long, long time.
***
Hwang Hyunjin shows up at the Busan Shatterdome a week later, and his arrival creates a buzz.
It's almost like a celebrity has come to town - he's even prettier in real life than in his recruitment ads, long bleached-blonde hair pulled into a stylish ponytail, leggy and elegant. He moves like a serpent, and smiles like an angel, and when he laughs it's throaty and full-bodied, or so he hears from his friends.
Apparently he'd been in Jisung's batch, at the academy, so they're actually pretty friendly, and he and Jeongin know each other from university, before things went to hell, so he's taken to joining their group for lunch.
Changbin could probably see this for himself, but he refuses to leave his room, moping around in the dark, leaving only to pick up granola bars from the mess and hit the gym at odd hours. He doesn't feel hungry, he doesn't want to sleep, and instead he just lies in bed, tangled up in Mina's quilt, listening to the last playlist she had in her iPod on repeat, his conversation with Marshal Park replaying in his head.
God, Changbin doesn't even know if he can step into the Kwoon, if he can connect in the Pons, if he can return to the Drift without having a massive breakdown. Everything in his body rejects the idea, his blood in his ears and his heart in his throat, but -
But he's always had a sense of duty, of devotion and dedication. He's the kind of filial that meant that while he rebelled against his parents with his tattoos and his career, he'd made sure their funeral rites had been properly done, after the Kaiju had smashed the eastern coastline. He'd followed Mina into the academy, but it hadn't just been blind faith, something greater than his love for his sister pulling him into the war.
Changbin is a devoted, dutiful, man, and maybe it will be his undoing.
***
He first meets Hwang Hyunjin late at night, sitting in the small side kitchen reserved for officers' use, watching Felix make brownies.
Rangers aren't technically officers, but you don't say no to people who willingly put their lives on the line to defend the world, not without good reason.
That's why Felix has a head full of dyed-blonde hair and unrestricted access to the kitchen, where he can indulge in his fondness for baking.
Changbin would honestly rather be in his room, alone in his misery, ignoring all the text messages and phone calls from his friends, but there had been another attack, Eureka Alpha and Striker Intercept deployed to take down a Class III kaiju, and Changbin had found himself watching with bated breath as the two Jaegers pummeled the kaiju to pieces.
The night after, Felix had shown up outside his room, rapping on the door in a way that was somehow both soft and insistent.
"Hyung? I can't sleep," he'd murmured, "and I know you can't either. I want to bake, but I don't want to be alone - do you wanna come with me?"
Changbin had lain on the floor, torn between action and inactivity.
"Please?" Felix asked, and Changbin had dragged on a tank top and slipped his feet into his battered sneakers, opening the door.
"Let's go, Lixie," he'd said, gruffly, and Felix had beamed brighter than the sun, curling his hand around Changbin's wrist, fingers dancing over his tattoos.
"You're the best, Changbin-hyung."
Changbin has always had a soft spot for Felix, ever since the day he and Chan transferred from Sydney, his Korean halting but his smile so genuine. There's something about him that makes Changbin feel affectionate, something about his soothing voice and cheerful demeanour that warms him, and it's easy to let Felix in, their friendship built on late night snack runs and whispered conversations. The other man is the only person who knows some of the details of Changbin’s nightmares, his gaze always kind, and that’s why Changbin follows Felix through the corridors, cherishing the warmth of his grip against his skin.
Changbin is perched on one of the stools in the kitchen, elbows on the counter, watching Felix measure our ingredients, singing softly under his breath. He's got some music playing, a Korean ballad Changbin hasn't heard in years, and it's nice, the two of them in a liminal space, a slice of something idyllic in the middle of a war.
It's peaceful - and then the door opens, and Hwang Hyunjin blinks at them in surprise, clearly having expected that the kitchen would be empty.
Chan wasn't wrong. Hyunjin is even more handsome in real life, like a Greek statue in motion, even though he's clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt, blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail.
"Sorry," he says, "I didn't realise people were here."
"No worries," Felix says, "it's a shared space."
Hyunjin's eyes flicker over to Changbin, and Felix beams.
"You haven't met Changbin-hyung, have you? Hyung, this is Hyunjin, Hyunjin, this is the Binnie-hyung we've been missing at meals."
Hyunjin takes a few steps into the room, and Changbin can feel Hyunjin's gaze on him, heavy and intense. He knows what he looks like, broad shoulders and big muscles with tattoos covering both his arms, dark hair falling into his eyes. He's intimidating even in daylight, and he knows that when people meet him for the first time, they're usually on their guard.
Mina had always told him that he looked like a gangster, like he belonged in a Yakuza movie, but she adored his tattoos and she adored his art, letting him refine his skill on her skin, ink in swirls of colour etched into her back.
The chrysanthemums and roses are inked into his shoulder in memoriam, her name in careful strokes among the petals, his sister's legacy in his flesh.
Hyunjin is braver than most, because he takes a step forward, bouncing in his trainers, and holds out a hand to Changbin.
"Ranger Seo," he greets, "it's a pleasure."
He doesn't say anything further, no condolences about Mina and Horizon Grace, and Changbin is thankful.
Changbin shakes his hand, and it's firm, solid and stable.
"Dr Hwang," Changbin returns, because he’s not an asshole, and people with veterinary degrees are doctors too, "your reputation precedes you."
Hyunjin smiles, and it's all teeth.
"No need for formalities, just Hyunjin will do," he replies, and Changbin inclines his head.
"The same goes," he says, and Hyunjin tips his head to one side, a movement graceful and sinuous.
"Alright then," he murmurs, his voice low, "Changbin-hyung."
There's something in the air between them, electric and potent, and something stirs in Changbin's gut.
***
Over the next few weeks, Changbin gets to know Hwang Hyunjin.
It’s hard not to, because apparently emerging out of his room to accompany Felix during his late-night baking was an invitation for the rest of his friends to drag him out of his cave.
His social circle also seems to have formed an almost perfect overlap with Hyunjin’s, and so he finds himself often squished up next to the other man, be it at movie nights or pizza parties or the random picnics Jisung likes to have on the roof of the Shatterdome.
He learns that Hyunjin loves iced Americano, that he hates eggplant, that he’s a drama queen who screams when Jeongin flicks him on the arm as a game forfeit, that he’s obsessed with romcoms and teenage coming-of-age movies.
Hyunjin becomes one of their group easily, but Changbin still holds him at arm’s length because -
There's something in the air between them, electric and potent, it stirs up something in Changbin's gut, something he hasn’t felt in years, not since the first time he and Mina crossed staffs in the Kwoon Room and felt that connection spark between them.
There's something in the air between them, and Changbin is afraid of what it is.
***
If asked, Changbin will deny that he's actively avoiding the Kwoon Room. It's not like it's located near his quarters or the places he frequents, and he takes the long way to the gym because he likes the walk. He's got time to spare, after all, he can afford to take the more circuitous route between Seungmin's office and the hangar.
He's not actively avoiding it, but he's not seeking it out either. He's not allowed in the Kwoon anyway right now, not without supervision from either the doctor or superior, thanks to the dubious quality of psyche.
His friends, at least, know better than to ask him if he wants to go to the Kwoon, and so Changbin stays far away.
This remains the case, as it has been for the last six months until the Busan Shatterdome makes the announcement everyone is waiting for - Hwang Hyunjin is looking for his co-pilot, all interested and eligible parties report to the Kwoon.
Changbin fully intends on hiding away in his room until Hyunjin either finds someone he's compatible with or the PPDC gives up, but then Seungmin corners him.
Seungmin is one of his closest friends, but he's also technically his superior. He's a tactician, one of the PPDC's best, and it's easy to forget that the keen-eyed strategist exists beyond combat with the Kaiju, that outside of LOCCENT there's a bigger picture at play.
Seungmin isn't out to win just the battles, he's out to win the war, and all of them - rangers, scientists, engineers, soldiers - are chess pieces on the board.
It's easy to forget, and so Changbin is caught off guard, when he's confronted with the full intensity of the other man's gaze, cold and stern. It's not the Seungmin he knows, puppy-like and charming, and his fight or flight instincts are triggered.
"Changbin-hyung," Seungmin starts, and then he pauses, "no, I think in this situation, it's Ranger Seo."
Changbin straightens.
"What is it, Major Kim?" he answers, because two can play the game, and Seungmin sucks in a breath through his teeth.
"The Marshal spoke to you about testing your Drift compatibility with Hwang Hyunjin," he says.
"He told me to think about it."
"Have you?"
Seungmin is cutting right to the chase, and Changbin supposes he's grateful they're not beating around the bush.
"I don't know if I can do it," Changbin confesses, "the thought of going back into the Drift - it scares the hell out of me."
"I have faith that-"
Seungmin pauses, probably at the look on his face, and Changbin draws in a breath.
"Noona and I were still connected when she died,” he admits, “I felt it, and I don’t know what’s going to happen if I go back in.”
Seungmin looks struck by his words, because Changbin’s never told anyone about this, not even the shrinks, not even Felix.
"Changbin," he starts, no honorifics, no ranks, just his name, "this may not even go to the Drift, you and Hyunjin may not even be compatible."
He clasps his hands behind his back, and Changbin can envision him as a general of yore, standing at the war table with calculating eyes.
"But I've run the numbers, I've analysed the data. I wouldn't be asking this of you if I didn't think it could work."
He pauses.
"I wouldn't be asking this of you if I didn't think it could make a difference," Seungmin says, honest, and -
Changbin is a dedicated man, devoted, he's a filial son and a loving brother, he's got a heart big enough that he decided to go to war for the world, to put his life on the line at the forefront of the destruction.
"I need you to be willing to try," Seungmin tells him, raw and open, and what can Changbin do, when the world is on the verge of ending?
"Alright," he says, and seals his fate.
***
It happens like this:
Changbin steps into the Kwoon, and all eyes are on him. He's got a reputation, among these new faces, and the murmurings around the room rustle like the wind in his ears.
Hyunjin is standing at the centre of the mat, staff in hand, one hip cocked, and his gaze is dark.
"Here to try your luck?" he asks, and Changbin shrugs off his jacket, picking up one of the staffs off the wall, twirling it and feeling the familiar weight.
He hasn't been in the Kwoon Room in months, hasn't been in this space for a long time, but Changbin's always been about discipline when it mattered - he remembers the motions, and nearly three years of habit is hard to break.
Chan and Felix are in the room as well, likely observing the selection spars, and Chan tenses as Changbin walks up to the mat, toeing off his sneakers, and Felix looks worried, curling one hand around Chan’s shoulder.
Changbin rolls his shoulders back.
"Let's give it a shot," he says, stepping up to the mat.
They bow to each other, taking their opening stances. They both start neutral, circling each other, tension thick in the air, and then Hyunjin strikes, swift like a cobra.
Changbin moves, parries, and has Hyunjin flat on his back.
“One-nil,” he says, and Hyunjin twists his staff free, swiping, moving slickly, and Changbin’s the one with a staff at his throat next.
“One-one,” Hyunjin murmurs, and it’s thrilling. No one’s matched him in the Kwoon, not since Mina, and the adrenaline sings in Changbin’s blood.
He slides out, rolls, and their staffs clang into each other. When it comes down to strength, Changbin has the advantage, which he presses.
“Two-one,” he remarks, but Hyunjin has speed on his side, slipping out from underneath him, a side-step and a swipe.
“Two-two,” the other man says, and then there’s no room for words. They orbit each other like planets around a sun, asteroids on collision course, clashing and rebalancing, trading blows back-and-forth like a dance.
Changbin stops counting, and just loses himself in the motion. Where he’s stern and stable, Hyunjin is fluid, where he shores up his defenses, Hyunjin attacks relentlessly. They’re contrasting and complementary, opposites but the same, clashing again, and again, and again.
“Enough!” a voice calls out, and they both pull back, sweating, staffs in their hands, their stances mirrored.
Hyunjin’s eyes are dark, pupils blown black, and Changbin is breathing heavily, his hair matted across his forehead. His blood is pounding in his ears, and he feels like he’s on the precipice, a dark pull in his stomach, the sickly sweetness of being on the edge and not knowing what awaits on the other side.
Marshal Park is standing at the edge of the mat. His face is stern, but there’s a small smile on his face.
“Congratulations,” he says, to both, but also to neither of them, “I think you’ve both found your match.”
***
The morning of the simulation drift, Changbin goes for a run.
He’s never been the running kind, preferring the regular repetition of weight training, but today, he laces up his shoes, and runs along the coast, his feet thumping a steady rhythm against the boardwalk that lines the beach, a steady pace that he keeps up as the sky bleeds from black to orange to blue, sun inching across the sky.
Running was always more of Mina’s thing, but he has her memories, flitting around the edges of his brain, the rush she felt when her feet hit the pavement, the serenity she experienced as she jogged along the shore, and he uses that to fuel him.
He runs till his feet falter, and then he turns around and runs back, although he doesn’t go back to the Shatterdome just yet, instead choosing to sit under the shade of one of the trees, gazing out at the water, bright and blue.
“Changbin-hyung.”
He looks up, and Felix is standing beside him, dressed down in jeans and a loose t-shirt. He’s got sandwiches in one hand, and two cups of coffee in a plastic bag dangling from his other wrist.
“Lixie, what’s up?”
“I was looking for you,” he says, sitting down next to Changbin, “I got you breakfast from that place down the street.”
“Thank you,” Changbin murmurs, “you didn’t have to.”
Felix smiles then, sweet as always, and hands him a sandwich and a cup of coffee. He unwraps his own sandwich, and Changbin follows suit, acutely aware of how close Felix is, their bodies almost touching, the warmth of him and the morning sun heating up Changbin’s skin.
He takes a bite of his sandwich, barely tasting it, and they sit quietly, eating in silence to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.
Changbin’s gotten down to the end of his sandwich, about two bites left, when Felix speaks.
“Hyung,” he starts, soft and cautious, “be careful in the Drift, alright?”
Most pilots die with their partners, and Changbin’s one of the very, very few who have been left behind, a disjointed half trying to be whole again. No one knows what really happens, when you go back into the Drift, and the dataset is too small for anyone to make guesses.
Changbin manages a wry smile, and reaches out his hand to lay it over Felix’s, not sure if he’s reassuring the other boy or reassuring himself.
“‘I’ll try,” he says, but they’re both well aware that it’s just empty words.
***
It’s been five months since Changbin was in a Conn-Pod, five months since he was connected to the Pons, five months since he’s had the relay gel down his throat and the clamps in his spine, but stepping into the simulation room feels both like homecoming and a haunting, the shadow of Mina beaming at him from the right side of the console.
Hyunjin is suited up in his drivesuit, and he nods at Changbin when he enters.
“Are you ready?” he asks, and Changbin manages a snort.
“As I’ll ever be,” he answers, which really is code for no, but Hyunjin just smiles.
“Don’t chase the rabbit,” he says, and then he goes over to one of the technicians to be fitted into his helmet.
Seungmin is watching the process, Marshal Park beside him, and Changbin goes through motions that feel both foreign and familiar, the technicians bustling around him, setting up the clamps and connections for the drift.
He takes his seat, next to Hyunjin, and Marshal Park nods.
The relay gel fills his mouth, the bitterness not an unfamiliar taste after years as a pilot, and he blinks, once, before the bridge connects and they’re in the Drift.
Hyunjin’s mind spreads out before him, like an open field, a plain of mirrors and facets, and Changbin wonders at it, trying to ground himself against the memories swirling around him like a crystal storm.
Hyunjin, he tries to call out, in the Drift, Hyunjin, are you-
He doesn’t get to finish the thought, because well, he doesn’t chase the rabbit - the rabbit chases him, memories surging like a tidal wave that swallows him whole, dragging him down into the dregs of someone else’s life. There’s a dog in his arms, small and black, yipping loudly and trying to struggle out of his grip. He’s in a veterinary surgery, murmuring soft words to a large retriever he’s going to have to put down. His arms are wrapped tight around his mother, her fingers curled around his arm, fear high in his throat watching the destruction of K-Day play out on television. He’s perched at a desk in a lab, studying Kaiju remains, in horror and awe at their biology. He’s sitting in a dark Kwoon Room, hollow and empty, wondering if the reason he’s not found anyone drift-compatible is because he’s fucked up.
Underpinning all of this, the ringing thread of lonely-desperate-not enough rings through the chaos, Hyunjin’s memories swirling around him. There are no secrets in the Drift, fears and first times laid bare, rushing past Changbin like a film reel, and he’s aware that Hyunjin is being treated to the slew of Changbin’s memories, good and bad. He’s aware of voices shouting, alarm bells going off, from outside the Pons, but he pushes through, he tries to reach Hyunjin across the bridge, and for a split second they meet in the middle, their minds connected, and it’s like they’re seeing each other for the first time, all crystal clarity.
There’s a flash, and he sees Mutavore again, reliving that moment when it’s giant hand came crashing down, when it ripped through Horizon Grace and ripped her apart, that sickening, dawning moment when Changbin felt a heart stop beating - and realised it wasn’t his.
He feels Mina die, again, and he pulls back into himself, into the Drift, he and Hyunjin in that in-between space on the bridge between them, their minds and souls in perfect sync.
And then the other man pulls back, the jerk to consciousness like cold water over his head.
Hyunjin’s eyes are wide open, horror and fear clear in them, and Changbin doesn’t know how to react.
“Neural handshake was successful, sync at 100%,” Seungmin reads out, but before anyone can say anything else, Hyunjin rips off his helmet, wrenching himself out from the wires connecting him to the Pons.
“Hyung,” Hyunjin starts, and it’s the aftermath of the drift, Changbin’s trauma layered over his own, “I’m so sorry.”
He spins on his heel, and runs off.
***
The universe is a cruel bitch, and so of course there’s an exit in the breach that night, a fucking Category III tearing through their slice of the ocean, the alarm blaring through the Shatterdome, lights flashing red. The monstrosity is codenamed Onibaba, and it sure as hell looks the part.
Eureka Alpha is deployed, Striker Intercept riding backup, and Changbin, despite his misgivings, runs to LOCCENT, because those are his fucking friends out there, and they haven’t encountered a Category III in a while.
He bites down on his thumbnail, his eyes analysing the displays from where he’s standing against the back wall, and he can see Seungmin at the head of mission control, barking out orders, Marshal Park at his shoulder.
It’s not protocol for the Marshal to not be riding at the head of command in a battle, but Seungmin’s one of the best.
Changbin senses movement beside him, and turns to see Hyunjin settle beside him, eyes trained on the screens in front of them. There’s something humming between them, leftovers from the Drift, but Changbin pushes it aside because he has more important things to worry about.
“Preparing for the drop,” Seungmin says, and Chan’s voice crackles over the comms.
“Gotcha, Major. Lix, you ready?”
“Let’s go,” Felix answers, and Eureka Alpha drops, cutting through the water like silk, landing a blow on Onibaba. It’s truly a fucking demon, fast and vicious, but Eureka Alpha is faster.
“Striker Intercept, you’re up,” Seungmin calls out.
“Aye aye, captain,” Minho and Jisung sing-song, and Seungmin rolls his eyes. The Jumphawks release them, and Striker Intercept fires a cannon at Onibaba. It howls, and what ensues is a series of vicious blows, plasma swords and cannons flashing in the dark night.
Changbin will draw blood if he bites on his thumb any harder, and instead he takes to worrying his lip, staring at the battle on screen, the numbers flashing all over the room, Seungmin’s voice thin as he calls out orders.
Eureka Alpha lands a blow, and Onibaba goes toppling into the water.
There’s a pause.
“Rangers, stay on alert,” Seungmi says, “we’re still detecting a Kaiju signature.”
It turns out naming Onibaba after a fucking mythical being wasn’t the most accurate, because there’s a real-life creature it takes reference from.
It’s a fucking scorpion, and before anyone can react it’s tail shoots up in the air, piercing through the left side of Eureka Alpha.
“Felix!” Chan fucking screams , Changbin’s yell echoing moments after in the control room, and the whole room is lit up in crimson, warning alerts and sirens flashing across the screens.
Pilot down.
Seungmin sucks in a breath.
“Chan, I need you two to eject.”
“I can’t get to Felix,” Chan says, desperate, “we’ve broken the Drift, and he’s not responding-”
“Help’s on the way,” Seungmin says, his voice steady, and the rescue helicopters are already in the air.
Seungmin doesn’t have to give any orders, because the moment Eureka Alpha went down, Striker Intercept goes for it like a bull in front of a red flag, vicious and violent, ripping apart Onibaba, the only sound from the cockpit that of Minho and Jisung’s synchronized breathing, as they move swiftly, decimating the kaiju.
Changbin runs to the hangar, and when the helicopter comes in, Chan stumbles out of the ruined remnants of Eureka Alpha’s Conn-Pod, blood running down his face, half-carrying Felix, who is bleeding heavily from one side, unconscious, and the medical team whisk him off, the wheels of the stretcher rattling hollowly against the floor.
“We need the hospital,” Dr Shin declares, running alongside the gurney, her voice strident, “we’re airlifting to Busan Medical, let’s go.”
Chan gets pulled away by the medical team, to treat the wound on his forehead, and Striker Intercept docks shortly after.
It’s a flurry of crazy activity, and Changbin just stares, unseeing, because -
It’s like deja vu, isn’t it, a half-fucked mirror image, not quite the same but still similar, a kaiju curling its deadly body around a Jaeger, ripping it and its pilot into pieces. In his head, Mina’s smile is layered over Felix’s, their mouths stained red with blood, brilliant grins stained scarlet, and he curls his fingers into fists, nails digging into his palms.
Jisung has his arms around Minho as soon as they disembark, his cheeks damp with tears, and the older man soothes him with gentle words that Changbin can’t make out. They’re in their own world, the edges of the drift clinging still even as the technicians rush around them. Jeongin has snapped into work mode, the J-Tech crews bringing Striker Intercept into the hangar, pulling the wrangled mess that was Eureka Alpha back into the repair bay.
Changbin feels a hand on his shoulder, and turns to see Hyunjin.
“Seungmin told me to drive you and Chan to the hospital once the medics have treated his head wound,” Hyunjin says, “can you go to their room and get anything they may need? Clothes, their phones, that shit.”
Changbin inhales sharply.
He’s a soldier, years of discipline coming to the forefront, and when there’s a task to focus on it’s easier, to push down the panic.
“Alright.”
***
Changbin has many of Mina’s memories, thanks to the Drift, and one rises to his mind, unbidden.
It’s an old one, from when they were children, when Changbin had climbed up the jungle gym and fallen off, breaking his arm. He’d been too young to remember much of the experience, his recollection of it sharp pain and tears, followed by months in a sling, but Mina’s memory of it is crystal-clear. He can taste her fear, her worry, sitting next to their mother in the hospital room, and her hatred of hospitals - the antiseptic sharp in the air, the blank white sterility - is clear, thrumming in his head.
In the present, Changbin, too, hates the smell of the hospital, hates the quiet of the waiting room. Chan is next to him, their hands entwined, and Hyunjin is standing a ways off, nursing a cup of shitty vending machine coffee. If Changbin pauses and concentrates, he can feel Hyunjin at the edges of his mind, a thrumming pulse of worry and exhaustion, a reflection of his own feelings.
But Changbin doesn’t have time to think about the Drift, not when Chan is on the edge, gripping his hand like his life depends on it.
“Lixie will be fine, Chan-hyung,” Changbin murmurs, unsure if he’s really reassuring the other man or trying to reassure himself, “he’s strong, he'll pull through.”
He doesn't voice the dark thoughts in his head, the part of him that says Eureka Alpha and her pilots are already better off, the hangar and the hospital a more hopeful indicator than death and deep water.
He doesn't voice the dark thoughts, but Hyunjin hears them anyway, through the lingering remnants of their drift.
Changbin looks up at him, their eyes meeting briefly - but then Hyunjin turns away, and he returns his attention to Chan, muttering platitudes that may be falling on deaf ears.
***
The sun is high in the sky, by the time Hyunjin drives Changbin and Chan back to the Shatterdome. Felix is asleep, in a medically-induced coma to let his body heal, but it had taken some effort to pull Chan away from his partner’s bedside - he’d only left because Minho and Jisung had shown up to relieve them of their vigil, and kicked them all out.
“You’re no use to anyone if you keel over from exhaustion,” Minho had said, brutal and harsh but still kind, “go back and get some fucking sleep.”
He’d shot a look at Changbin and Hyunjin as well, the kind that Changbin’s mother used to give him whenever he did something especially foolish.
“The same goes for you two, by the way,” he’d added, and Jisung had softened the blow of his partner’s words with a soft smile and a high-pitched giggle.
“Lix would be upset if he knew you weren’t resting, hyung,” Jisung had told Chan, the good cop as always to Minho’s bad, and well, few people are capable of resisting the combined persuasive powers of Striker Intercept’s pilots.
The drive back is short, and by some unspoken mutual agreement, Changbin and Hyunjin escort Chan to his room despite his protests.
When the door slides shut, Changbin lets out the sigh he hasn’t realised he’s been holding, raking his fingers through his hair. He’s been up for nearly thirty-six hours, at this point, running on adrenaline and anxiety, and he can feel the crash impending.
He nearly jumps out of his skin when Hyunjin reaches out to touch him on the shoulder, and the other man apologises hastily
“Ah, sorry hyung,” he says, “are you alright?”
Changbin rubs at his face.
“Just tired,” he answers, and the expression on Hyunjin’s face is grim.
“That’s not really what I was asking,” he says, softly, “are you alright after seeing what happened with Felix? I don’t mean to pry, but -”
But what had happened with Eureka Alpha had been eerily reminiscent of what happened to Horizon Grace, a half-fucked mirror image, not quite the same but still similar, a kaiju curling its deadly body around a Jaeger, ripping it and its pilot into pieces.
In his head, Mina’s smile is layered over Felix’s, their mouths stained red with blood, brilliant grins stained scarlet, and Hyunjin knows.
It’s horrendous, that they’re so compatible, that a single drift has bared his soul to this man so raw and open.
Changbin exhales sharply.
“It’s nothing I can’t manage,” he says firmly, and Hyunjin looks like he wants to say something, to push further - so Changbin shrugs him off.
“Look,” he starts, “we’re both exhausted, so if you wanna talk, let’s do it after we get some sleep, okay?”
His tone comes out harsher than he intended, and he winces, but to Hyunjin’s credit he just nods.
“Alright,” he says, his voice steady, and Changbin pulls away.
***
Changbin is avoiding Hyunjin.
It’s not like he’s doing it on purpose - there’s a fresh kaiju corpse sitting in the lab, and Hyunjin’s K-Science, of course he’s busy, working with the scientists to dissect the body and try to figure out what the hell is up.
Changbin is well aware that he’s being a coward and making excuses, but it’s not like any of his friends have the time to say it to his face right now. Seungmin is tied up in LOCCENT, in meetings and strategy planning, and there’s a broken Jaeger in the hangar that’s demanding all of Jeongin’s attention. Chan is going through debriefs and evaluations, the standard process after a Ranger has been through a traumatic event.
Minho and Jisung, if they could, would make Changbin confront his cowardice, but as the only functional pair of pilots in Busan at the moment, they’re not allowed more than a kilometre away from the base.
Changbin’s been spending all his time by Felix’s bedside, which is a whole three-and-a-half kilometres away from the Shatterdome, so they can’t get to him.
He tells himself he’s doing Chan a favour, keeping an eye on his drift partner when he can’t, and it’s a damn sight more productive than just sitting around at the Shatterdome.
Besides, he cares for Felix very much, and at least here he can be useful, helping Felix sit up and telling him stupid jokes to cheer him up, rubbing his back when the nausea from the pain medication gets too bad and holding his hand when he moves too sharply and jars his injured side.
“You don’t have to spend all your time here with me, hyung,” Felix murmurs, a little sluggish from the morphine in his veins, “I’m sure you have other things to do.”
He reaches out, tangling their fingers together, and Changbin rubs his thumb over the back of Felix’s hand, his touch firm but gentle.
“I don’t have anything else I could be doing, Lix, it’s fine.”
Felix hums.
“But you do,” Felix says, “you do, hyung.”
“What?”
Changbin blinks, looking up at the younger man, who looks like he’s fighting sleep.
Felix smiles at him, wry and a little lopsided.
“You could be in a Jaeger again,” he says, soft and quiet in the hospital room, and Changbin -
Changbin just squeezes his hand, tightly, and sits in silence until Felix dozes off, counting the rhythm of his breaths.
***
It happens like this.
Felix is discharged, a week-and-a-half after the attack, and he’s healing well, already able to walk on his own. The doctors are confident that he can be back in a Jaeger in a few months, provided he follows through with his physiotherapy and medication, and it’s heartwarming to see how Chan scoops his best friend up into his arms, and how they cling to each other.
Jisung announces his plans for a small party, just pizza, drinks and a movie, and Changbin takes his leave before he can get corralled into talking to someone he doesn’t want to talk to.
But of course, he’s spent ten days in hiding, using Felix as an excuse to delay conversations about the inevitable, and of course, Hyunjin finds him.
“Changbin-hyung,” he says, careful, quiet, “we need to talk.”
They’re in the officer’s kitchen, the one Felix always uses to bake, the one where they first met all those weeks ago, in the wee hours of the morning.
Today, there’s no Felix between them, no buffer between them and the ghost of the Drift that still lingers, their connection strong and undeniable, and Changbin can’t run.
He swallows, curling his fingers around his mug of tea, and forces himself to meet Hyunjin’s eyes.
“We do,” he says, and the silence between them is thick and heavy, like molasses, sticky and cloying in a way that makes Changbin feel like suffocating.
They need to talk, and he doesn’t know what to say - but Hyunjin takes the first step, across the chasm.
“I understand why you don’t want to go back,” he says, quietly, “I - I’m sorry I saw what I saw, and that I reacted how I did.”
“There’s no need to apologise,” Changbin interrupts, because it isn’t Hyunjin’s fault that the Drift drags out everything, grief and pain and all that lies in-between, that it bares people’s souls raw and empty, “it’s not something you chose to see, Hyunjin.”
Hyunjin manages a smile, and he barrels on.
“I can’t imagine how much pain you must be in, and like, I get it, if you never want to step into a Jaeger again,” he says, careful and quiet, “I really do.”
He pauses then, sucking in a shaky breath.
“But I think we could be something great, hyung,” he says, “that connection we have, the way it felt in the drift - I’ve never felt anything like that before, and I felt like I could do anything .”
In that in-between space on the bridge between them, in the depths of the Drift, their minds and souls had been in perfect sync, and Changbin-
Changbin understands, because while it’s not quite what he’d felt with Mina, when they were in Horizon Grace, it’s something so very similar, two souls becoming one in the Drift, moving in perfect sync, united in a way few others could ever hope to comprehend.
Changbin understands, and Changbin doesn’t disagree.
“I know,” he says, and Hyunjin’s whole body seems to sag in relief, the tension he’s been carrying vanishing, “I get it, Hyunjin.”
“Hyung-”
Changbin’s never been touchy-feely with Hyunjin, has been holding the younger man at arm’s length, fearful of everything that could be, between them, but this time he takes the first step forward, letting Hyunjin fall into his arms, holding him in a firm embrace.
“I’ve waited so long for you,” Hyunjin mutters, curling his fists into Changbin’s shirt, and Changbin understands, because just as Hyunjin has been in his head, he’s been in Hyunjin’s, has seen all the grief and misery, has seen the desperation and the longing.
He’s felt how long Hyunjin has waited, to find someone who could meet him in the Drift, and maybe Changbin’s a lucky bastard, to have had two people he’s been compatible with, to be given another chance after he’d had his whole world ripped away from him.
But above all, Changbin is a devoted, dutiful man, one who loved the world enough to climb into a giant machine two hundred feet tall, to throw himself into combat time and again against monsters that are beyond comprehension.
He’s a filial son and a loving brother, he's got a heart big enough that he decided to go to war for the world, to put his life on the line at the forefront of destruction, and he would do it over and over again.
“I never thought I would find someone like Mina,” he tells Hyunjin, quietly, in the dim darkness of the kitchen, his lips pressed to the man’s hair, “it’s not the same, but-”
But the connection between him and Hyunjin is undeniable, for the Drift tells no lies, and Hyunjin swallows, pulling back to meet Changbin’s gaze.
“Are you willing to try again?”
He’s asking about more than the simulation Drift, about more than just stepping into a Jaeger.
He’s asking for more than Changbin ever thought he could give, after death and dark water, after Mina’s death left him feeling like he’d lost the other half of his soul.
Changbin is a devoted, dutiful man, and maybe it will be his undoing, but he looks right into Hyunjin’s eyes, seeing himself reflected in the other man’s gaze, in more ways than one.
“Yes,” he says, and he knows he’s sealed his fate.
***
Seungmin is the soul of practicality, so when Changbin and Hyunjin come to him the next morning, asking for another attempt at the simulation drift, he simply arches an eyebrow, careful and considering.
“You’re the best bet we have,” he says, and they’re all aware of the freshly-constructed Jaeger that sits in the hangar, unmoored and unmanned, aware of how Eureka Alpha is still undergoing repairs and that Striker Intercept is not enough if another monster were to rise from the sea, and so he nods his head.
“I’ll put in the request to the Marshal,” he tells them, “for all our sakes, I hope this time goes better than the last.”
They’re scheduled for the next morning, and Changbin takes the opportunity to disappear, dodging all his friends and their well-meaning questions and concerns, stepping away from the bustle of the Shatterdome to breathe.
There’s a memorial garden, located in the outskirts of Busan, dedicated to all the lives lost since K-Day, and Changbin lifts a set of keys from the garage, not-so-legally commandeering one of the motorbikes lying around in order to get there.
Changbin abandons the motorbike among the bushes, and makes his way through the flowers and the trees, coming to a stop at a single headstone in the heart of the park, flowers laid around it in tribute.
Mina beams at him, from where her photo has been placed atop her grave, beautiful and proud in her Ranger’s uniform, and Changbin settles on the grass on his knees, staring at it.
There had been no body to bury, after Mutavore, after Horizon Grace dragged a demon into the depths of the ocean and brought one of her pilots with her, but they’d made a space for his sister in this garden anyway.
She was the first pilot Busan had lost, but just one of many that had fallen to the Kaiju, one name on an ever-growing list.
Changbin has only been to her grave once, on the day of the funeral, when all they’d had to bury was her memory, because it had hurt too much to see where they’d laid her soul to rest, when grief and misery was all he knew, when the aftermath of his sister’s death had been so very raw and painful, flaying his soul bare and open.
His world ended, when his sister died, but he’s had to confront that somehow, it still kept spinning.
Now, he’s returned, and he sits quietly, just staring at his sister’s name etched into rock, at her dates of birth and death, at her entire life summed up into some simple words in stone.
“Noona,” he starts, quietly, “I’m sorry.”
The survivor’s guilt is still strong, and on his darkest days Changbin wishes he was with her and Horizon Grace, breathless beneath the waves.
But he’s not, and he supposes he has a duty he needs to fulfil, a responsibility that he has to uphold, in the face of the monsters that emerge from the sea, in the face of all that the world still has to endure.
He reaches out, tracing over the lines of Mina’s photo, and he swallows.
“Keep an eye on us, yeah?” he says, and somewhere in the garden a bird trills, its song piercing the air.
***
Hyunjin smiles at him, when he steps into the simulation room.
It feels both like homecoming and a haunting still, the shadow of Mina beaming at him from the right side of the console, but Changbin takes a steadying breath, and he smiles back.
“Are you ready, hyung?” Hyunjin asks, an echo of the first time they did this.
Changbin doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready, not really, but he’s agreed to this, and he’s never backed down.
“Let’s do this.”
The neural clamps are set up, the machines beeping around them, and Changbin closes his eyes as the relay gel fills his mouth, bitter on his tongue.
He feels the Drift, before he sees it, and he lets the rabbit take him, all their memories and flooding his brain, his and Hyunjin’s lives entwined before their eyes, images overlaid like stained glass, fragments of the people they are and have been.
He lets the rabbit take him, he rides that wave - and he meets Hyunjin in the middle, over the bridge, into the Drift, the two of them in that in-between space, their minds and souls in perfect sync.
He blinks his eyes open, and he turns his head to look at Hyunjin, his eyes wide.
A grin breaks out across his face, and Changbin can feel a smile spreading over his lips as well.
“Neural handshake successful, sync at 100%,” Seungmin reads out, satisfaction clear in his tone, “let’s move on to calibration.”
Changbin has been the left half of a Jaeger for years, and calibration comes easy, he and Hyunjin slipping into an easy familiarity that’s not unexpected, given their connection in the drift.
Their partnership is still raw, and there’s lots to be done before they’ll be able to get into a Jaeger, but Changbin hasn’t felt like this in months, not since Mina died, not since his world ended with Mutavore’s claws.
“Congratulations, gentlemen,” Marshal Park says, from where he’s sitting at the control station, “you’ve found your co-pilot.”
Changbin feels his soul stir again, coming alive on butterfly’s wings, and he turns to Hyunjin, raising his first for the other man to bump.
“It’s good to meet you, partner,” he says, and Hyunjin laughs brightly, meeting the gesture.
“Howdy,” he replies, and Changbin, for the first time in a very long time, feels alive.
***