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Yancy Becket is 24 when he dies in Knifehead’s death grip, twelve miles from the east coast of Anchorage, Alaska. It’s a cold February night, the year is 2020, and his vision is black and white. He has never met his soulmate; his soulmate will never meet him.
Raleigh Becket is 21 when he’s left alone in the world, standing in the Conn Pod of Gypsy Danger with a hole the shape of his brother carved in his soul. His right arm is burning with pain, and his brother is no longer there. His vision is black and white; he wishes they had time to discover what colour was Yancy’s favourite.
The Wall is an array of black and white, and an endless collection of shades of grey in between. The heights don’t scare him when all he sees at the bottom is a patchwork of non-existent colours and a possibility that he will see his brother early. Despite it all he holds the metal pillars tighter and tries not to look towards the ocean, towards the water where Yancy is waiting.
Mako Mori is beautiful and Raleigh knows as much even in black and white. She’s stunning, with a glint in her eyes and grey highlights in her hair, and he half-wishes she made him see in colour. She doesn’t though and it’s alright – he hopes her soulmate has a heart as big and a mind as clever as hers.
She tells him she doesn’t know what her dyed hair looks like; she says that Pentecost calls it blue . Raleigh tells her it must suit her anyway and she smiles sheepishly. He feels, deep down, that they’re compatible, but he doesn’t dare to say it aloud.
Hercules Hansen’s palm is firm in his when they shake hands in greeting. Raleigh smiles, even though Herc’s face makes him think about before , about Yancy and that one person who’s waiting for him out there, who will never see sunsets and sunrises in full intensity. He smiles and nods, and chats with him, and looks where Herc is pointing and saying that’s my son, Chuck and then–
Striker Eureka drivesuit is olive green, the large lamps illuminating the Jaeger hall shed a slightly orange light and Chuck Hansen’s hair is a mixture of brown and red. Raleigh sees the shock and then the raw awe in Chuck’s face when their eyes meet, and he knows the other sees it all, too – all the colours, the wonders, the way the lights illuminate everything around them and the way the world suddenly is so much more marvellous . He wants to laugh, to scream and yell and be happy because that’s it, isn’t it? That’s his happy ending, his special person, that’s the way he can now look at all the pictures of Yancy he has stuffed in his bag and see what his brother’s favourite sweater really looked like. That’s the way he can explore the world now, in full colour, with someone by his side – someone who’s new to this, too. Someone who’s the other half of his soul; someone who won’t care that his own is torn and shredded, and barely there.
His racing thoughts are all cut off prematurely when the amazement spills off Chuck’s face and is replaced with anger; with various tinges of resentment, and Raleigh’s heart crumbles at the sight.
Pentecost goes on about the mission, and when Raleigh looks back, Mako’s highlights are the liveliest shade of blue there could ever be.
They’re compatible, he knew it. The second he stands opposite of Mako, with his own staff in hands, he feels it. He almost knows what her move will be a fraction of a second before she does; she flows around his attacks like water, and he knows. He feels her in his bones, just standing there in the Kwoon room, and it’s almost frightening to imagine how powerful their Drift will be once they connect.
Her smile is blinding when she looks at him – she feels it, too. Maybe she hasn’t found her soulmate yet, but she found her Drift partner; she found him . And that’s the closest to feeling whole as it can get for her, for now.
Raleigh wishes it was half as easy with Chuck. Sometimes he thinks he almost has him – sometimes Chuck looks at him and there’s something fragile in his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips. At times Raleigh looks at the younger Hansen and can only see the green of his eyes, the amber of his hair and the countless freckles littering his cheeks, and he thinks that there’s no one as perfect as him. He wishes and begs the universe, pleads with the silent night sky to make it easier for him.
Every now and then he asks why does he hate me? when he tries to talk to Chuck and almost ends with a black eye. The universe stays close-mouthed.
It’s the night after the Double Event and everyone in the Shatterdome is torn between grieving and celebrating. They’ve managed to save Hong Kong, thousands of innocent lives – hundreds of kids who still don’t know what their favourite colour is, and who deserve to find out one day – but they have also lost two Jaegers and five extraordinary people. Pentecost vanishes as soon as he’s not needed, probably to sit in his room and blame himself until the guilt is the only feeling he’s not numb to, and Mako excuses herself not much later. Raleigh’s relieved to finally be able to fall back on his bed, but a knock on his door tears him out of his half-sleep.
Chuck’s hair is still damp from a shower when Raleigh lets him inside.
“What’s going on?” he asks, voice low and the need to comfort almost painful, but he doesn’t dare get closer to the other man. His cheekbone still aches from the last time.
“I didn’t want to be alone,” Chuck says, giving Raleigh a near whiplash. “Dad broke his arm. He’s off-duty. Won’t be able to pilot when we close the Breach.”
Raleigh knows what it means, but doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to dwell on the implications. His palms itch with the urge to touch , to soothe. His soulmate is hurting and he feels it too.
“I’ll die without him,” Chuck finally says and it leaves Raleigh speechless. “I’ll die there and he will stay here, on land, and he’ll never get to bury my body. How do I do this?”
“You won’t die,” he replies sharply and steps forward. Chuck doesn’t even move a muscle; there’s no fight left in him. His beautiful green eyes are empty.
“We both know it’s a lie, Ray.”
“It’s not a lie. You won’t die. ”
He reaches out and puts his hand on Chuck’s shoulder; the man flinches. He shrugs him off and his whole face shuts off again, like a switch. The weakness is gone, and Raleigh has nothing left to grasp on.
“I might not die alone, but I’ll die without him. Tell me how is this fair?”
Raleigh can’t. He stands there, staring at Chuck with his heart breaking over and over again, the ache too much to bear. He longs to wrap his arms around the man, pull him closer and not let go until the colours don’t mean anything; until they’re just two people. At this moment it doesn’t matter that they’re soulmates because Raleigh loves him either way. He loves him even when his fists are ruthless and his words are cruel. He loves him for his eyes and his nose and his hair, and the way he loves his dog and wants his father to be proud of him. He loves him for being brave even when he’s scared, and for being perfect even with all his flaws. He loves him so much he bleeds only for him, but there’s not enough words in the known language that could ever convey it.
“You won’t die,” he repeats and Chuck huffs before he’s gone.
He slips from Raleigh again. The clock starts ticking – tick, tick, tick.
Time is running away.
Chuck visits him again only once after this. It’s five hours before the drop and Raleigh is sitting on his bed with a picture in his hands. It’s a little faded and creased in all corners, having been cherished for years. In the picture, they’re both wearing grins. Yancy’s washed-out hoodie is lavender, Raleigh’s sweater is green, and their hair is shining gold in the lightning. It’s Christmas two months before Knifehead, before everything changed, and Raleigh thumbs at Yancy’s face as he always does when he remembers.
“Come in,” he says as the knocks echo in the otherwise silent room. Chuck closes the door behind him as gently as possible and invites himself to sit next to Raleigh.
“Weird colour to wear,” he mumbles and Raleigh instantly knows he’s talking about Yancy’s hoodie. His smile is dim.
“We didn’t see colours then. He didn’t know what it was.” He’s quiet for a second, thinking. “He’d choose it again, if he knew.”
Chuck huffs, but it’s not angry this time. His shoulder presses against Raleigh’s.
“Didn’t want to be alone?” Raleigh asks calmly, forcing his heart not to jump out of his throat at the contact. Chuck hums.
“Dad’s already grieving. I can’t look at him now.”
“You won’t die, Chuck.”
“Empty promises,” the other mutters and drops his head on Raleigh’s shoulder, nose pressed against his T-shirt. “I’m tired of them.”
“They’re not empty. You’ll get back.”
“You don’t know that.”
“But I trust that you will,” he replies, this time with more force. He looks down to stare at Chuck, at his ginger hair that’s mussed and again slightly damp from a shower, at his freckled nose and long, long eyelashes. “I need you to get back.”
Chuck shifts his head backwards just enough to lock gazes with him. His eyes are striking. “You only say that because I’m your soulmate. You don’t want to lose colours.”
“Colours are the least important in all this,” Raleigh says and the realisation dawns on him, oh , that’s why he was so distant. “I don’t need colours. I need you.”
“Mako’s so much better than me. She can love you so much better.”
“I love her, but she’s not you.”
“Not your soulmate?”
“Yes, but she’s not you .”
The first smile that Chuck aims at him is sad. Raleigh can’t bear to look at him hurting, can’t stand the sorrow in his eyes.
“You know I won’t believe you, Ray,” he says softly, but snuggles closer to him anyway. His leg presses against Raleigh’s and when he circles his arm around Chuck, tugging him closer to his chest, the Australian doesn’t protest. He’s mellow in Raleigh’s hands and folds against him easily.
They sit in silence for a moment. Yancy stares up at them from the picture where it’s laying on Raleigh’s knee.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult,” Chuck says at last, so quietly that Raleigh almost misses it. “I thought it’d be easier if I didn’t let you in.”
“Was it?”
“No.”
Raleigh closes his eyes and squeezes the eyelids tight. “I wish you gave me a chance at the beginning.”
“I know,” Chuck replies. “I’m sorry.”
“Do you regret being my soulmate?”
“Yes,” the Australian says and it rattles Raleigh’s heart so deeply he thinks it’s going to shatter. “I regret because I’m going to die tomorrow and you’ll be left here seeing black and white again.”
“You won’t die.”
“You’re going to resent me because you’ll have to spend the rest of your life in grey, only having a few weeks worth of coloured memories,” Chuck continues, as if he didn’t hear him. “You'll get mad at me because you could’ve had anyone else and get a whole life with them, but you got me instead and this whole thing was doomed from the start. We were doomed from the start.”
“We’re not doomed, and you won’t die. Why won’t you believe me?”
Chuck looks at him and his smile is different now; still sad, but different. “Because I can feel it, Ray.”
“Feel what?” Raleigh asks and he’s confused, he wants to know but doesn’t at the same time. His guts are swimming in his stomach.
“I feel that I’m going to die tomorrow. I feel it in my bones.”
Raleigh feels sick. Before he can think about it, he grips the other man tighter and pushes his nose in Chuck’s hair. “You won’t die.”
This time Chuck doesn’t say anything. The words sound empty even to Raleigh’s own ears.
They don’t sleep tonight; they don’t talk either. Morning finds them laying on their sides on Raleigh’s bed, with Chuck warming his hands under the man’s T-shirt and Raleigh drawing patterns on Chuck’s clothed back with his fingers. The air smells of comfort, familiarity and warmth; it also smells of finality and heartbreak. It smells of regret.
They part ways and suit up. The last time that Raleigh sees Chuck is from across the room; his eyes are sombre. There’s also something that wasn’t there before – acceptance. Raleigh nods to him and that’s the entire goodbye that they get before stepping into their Conn Pods.
“Well, my father always said: you have a shot, you take it.”
And then, in a blink of an eye, they’re gone.
The explosion almost sends Gypsy tumbling back, but they’re quick to drive the sword into the ocean floor to gain balance. They kneel there, awaiting the end of the nuclear wave, awaiting the moment when they’ll be able to go back to fighting, and yet the only thing that Raleigh can think of is he’s gone .
Hesgonehesgonehesgone. Chuck’s gone. The other half of his soul is gone, and now he doesn’t have anything. His soulmate is dead.
I can feel that I’m going to die tomorrow.
Raleigh feels like he’s going to vomit.
I feel it in my bones.
I’m so sorry, he hears Mako say in his head, but there’s nothing left to do. There’s nothing left except for standing back up and closing the Breach, and getting the future that the world deserves; that Mako deserves. That Chuck deserved, too.
With their shattered heart – because they’re in the Drift and what’s his is Mako’s; his broken heart is hers – they get up.
The Kaiju dimension is eerily quiet. Gypsy’s fall is excruciatingly slow; when Raleigh initiates the countdown, he has a moment to look around. He does and all he can think about is Yancy – not the monstrous masses he sees here, not the uncanny creatures staring at him with a bizarre look in their luminous eyes. Yancy, with his wind-tousled hair and a smile that older brothers reserve for their younger siblings; Yancy, with his lavender hoodie and blue shirts and brown sweaters. Yancy, with his mind full of plans for the future, a dream to meet his soulmate and find out what their eye colour is.
Yancy, who was gone at 24 and never knew that his eyes were blue.
He’s lifted into the escape pod fourteen seconds before the explosion. The blast renders him unconscious.
Mako’s embrace is the first thing that he feels when he wakes up. Then, he hears her crying.
“You’re crushing my ribs,” he wheezes and as she leans back, staring at him with wide eyes, a smile forms on his face.
“ Raleigh .”
Not everything is lost, he realises. “I’m here,” he says and she cries and cries and cries, and then she’s laughing, her forehead on his and it’s alright. It’s alright. He’ll make it through, won’t he? Won’t they both?
And then he opens his eyes and freezes when he sees the water.
It’s blue. Dark blue, to be precise, and shimmers in the sunlight, moving non-stop like a living mass.
“He’s alive,” he whispers, disbelief the heaviest emotion in his heart. Mako stares at him. “Chuck’s alive!”
His communication is not working anymore, but he hears the commotion in Mako’s drivesuit device.
“What did you just say?” Raleigh thinks it’s Hercules and looks up at Mako. She’s smiling; she understands, thanks to the Drift.
“Chuck’s alive! Get all the scanners and look for his escape pod, he’s alive! He’s out there, he’s waiting!”
The commotion lasts for ten, twenty, thirty seconds. The choppers appear at the horizon, but they pay them no mind. He’s looking in Mako’s eyes and she’s looking in his, tense, anxious – waiting. A minute goes by and the buzzing under his skin is getting too much when–
“Third escape pod’s signature two miles south from Mako and Raleigh,” Tendo’s voice cuts through. “Vital signs are good. Chuck’s alive.”
Raleigh doesn’t remember much after that – he remembers crying. He remembers Mako’s arms around him and his soul knitting itself together.
He remembers the sky painted the exact same blue as Yancy’s eyes.
Chuck is battered and bruised, and a little out of breath, but otherwise he’s fine. So fine his fists thump against Raleigh’s shoulder blades for a second or two when Raleigh lifts him up in the Medical.
“Put me down!” he shrieks, but there’s amusement in his voice and laughter creeping just behind the corner. Raleigh finally obliges, moving to hug him so tight he feels both of their ribs creak with the force.
“Are you trying to kill me after I’ve just miraculously survived the most high-risk mission in history?”
Chuck’s laughter is like honey; Raleigh thinks he’ll never get enough of it.
“Maybe that was me you felt in your bones yesterday,” he says. There’s a warm feeling filling up his chest, getting into every edge and bend until it feels like he’s overflowing with happiness.
“Definitely,” Chuck replies and there’s a twinkle in his green eyes, and his face is flushed from all the exertion, his ginger hair a mess, and God, Raleigh loves him.
“I love you,” he says and watches as Chuck’s face, usually so closed-off and cold, lights up like a kid’s on Christmas.
“You dumb drongo.”
Chuck kisses him, and he tastes like joy. He tastes like the triumphant feeling after winning the war; like relief that comes from knowing your loved ones are safe.
He tastes like future.