bigblondmotherhen | ic

what's wrong?

i didn't get to tell you.
last time.

i figured you'd tell me when you were ready.
it's how you work.

what's up, kiddo?

if the kaiju didn't happen, what do you think we'd be like?

[ he forgets. and then he feels a mix of guilt and relief. he forgets that there's that lag between him and raleigh because he's just so glad to fall into old habits -- the knowledge that the other is there, mako the odd and unnamed entity branching outside of what might have otherwise been a broken drift.

yancy forgets that when raleigh says before it's not necessarily last week. or yesterday. or a month ago. that what raleigh means is before knifehead.

( before you died, yance. )

he switches to voice. it's so easy to get things mixed up with just words and no tone. ]

What's eating at you, kid?

[ talk to me, brother. tell me what's wrong and we'll fix it somehow. ]

[ He knows the very second Yance decides to switch over to audio, anticipates the thought of it before the action even finishes forming for both of them, and Raleigh's shot through with the ache of its familiarity - that he knows who his brother is, that their minds still keep the same shape they've always had before everything got shot to hell.

Yancy asks and Raleigh answers with a small sigh, first. ]

D'you think you'd have gotten married? Mom always wanted grandkids, a full house.

[ yancy starts at the question, takes a good minute to let his brother's words sink in because the truth of the matter is -- he never really gave it much thought.

for the longest time, family meant raleigh's voice in his ear, urging him to wake up, or the two of them playing chess or cards; the game coming either to a draw or a 50/50 win on either part because they knew each other's thought-processes so well every move was practically predicted.

family meant holding fast to each other because they were the last of a broken home -- father gone, mother dead, sister somewhere neither of them could name.

yancy rubs his hand over his mouth, lips parting as his hand falls away before he presses them closed again. ]

The truth, brother? [ he breathes in, and then out. ] I never really thought about it.

[ there was always so much to do, kiddo. there was never any time. not with the kaiju. and i never wanted to think of what-ifs. you die a little inside every day if you fall into that trap. ]

Course you didn't, you were too busy living it up.

[ He answers with only the smallest touch of sadness - at the lost things, at the memories, at the bitterness of it all. Raleigh was the one without any plans beyond following where Yancy would go — and then he went someplace he couldn't, and deep down Raleigh knows he hasn't really forgiven them both for that.

(You promised me we'd do this together, man.)

He sighs, bone-deep, knowing that everything else he can say by now has already been thought of by Yancy, and an apology sits heavily on his tongue, perched like a bird ready to fly. ]

I figured we were gonna go together, you know.

[ he catches that. the note of sadness, understands the regrets and wonders again if there is any way in the world he can let raleigh know just how much he wants those five years back. ]

I thought that, too. [ there's a pause as yancy leans back against a nearby wall. at some point, he'd like for these conversations to be done face-to-face, with his brother within reach for the touches they seem to skirt. ]

Don't apologize. I'm not sorry you made it out alive.

[ you were always my priority, kid is what he doesn't say. i'd do it again in a heartbeat, because it's what i promised mom. ]

[ Your promises suck, he doesn't answer in reply to words that aren't said. He's not fifteen anymore, and yet. ]

I'm sorry you had to, in the first place.

[ It's moments like this that makes him feel each and every single day of those five years and four months, like a dam bursting long enough to drown a small town. ]

I miss you.

[ i know, kiddo. i know. there is no apology in the pause of silence that is punctuated only by the intake of three breaths. ]

I'll take that, [ because he'd be lying if he said that he wasn't sorry as well. he'd told the kid not to get cocky, but they'd both been riding on the high of a supposed fifth kill -- and it was just their bad luck that knifehead had been smarter and stronger than the last four. ]

Miss you too, buddy. [ there's a momentary breath, again. ] How's Mako? [ it's not that he's been purposely ducking them.

he just has by default. ]

She's as great as she can ever be, [ he answers, but there's a small nugget of worry in his voice. ] Sometimes I feel like I'm holding her back.

[ Yancy would understand why. He knows how the cogs and screws in Raleigh's head works, without needing the drift, because their history is couched in growing up, in knowing how this scar ended up there or this bruise ended up here, and that had been the truth they both held to for years, like a prayer on a cold night.

And then Alaska happened. And things changed. And then nothing was ever the same, because you couldn't pin a ghost to the wind even if you tried with all the gifts that God gave your mortal soul. ]

What do you think Mom would do?

[ Yancy lifts a brow at that. There's a distinct quality to the pause he takes, when he doesn't answer right away.

There's a memory from long ago: bruised fists and swelling faces, and Stacker Pentecost dressing them down afterwards. It hadn't even been about the girl, he'd realized sometime later when he'd looked across to Raleigh from his side of the conn-pod, eyes meeting his brother's in a query of we good, bro? before they'd stepped in for yet another neural handshake. ]

I think Mom would give me the same exasperated look I want to give you if you weren't hiding behind your communicator all the time when we have these talks.

[ You running again? is what he doesn't say. I thought we went over this bro. No more excuses for the things you really want.

Though, to be fair, Yancy knows that he doesn't know nearly enough of how his brother and Mako work. Still, what he does know is the way -- today not counted, because clearly something is up -- Raleigh's tone changes when he talks about the girl. Pentecost's Daughter, Tokyo's Daughter, Japan's Dorothy Gale. The co-pilot, his brother's better half. ]

Talk to me. [ He sighs. ] Better yet, can we just hang out for like an hour so I can headlock you already. It's a small city but I feel like I'm stateside and you're in, I dunno, China.

You're a dick, [ he replies, a small smile crawling out of him when he does. ] how did I end with you.

[ Yancy's right, though. Mom wouldn't want him to be a mess like this; she'd never raised her children to sit at the back of the us, in a manner of speaking, and she certainly didn't encourage them to hide from their issues, either. Those lessons had taught Raleigh more than he'd hoped to learn, and it's his mother's touch that had him swallowing his pride in the cold of Alaska - admitting to himself that yes, he's grieving, and yes, he has to face the fact that he needs to move on.

He doesn't do anyone proud, moping around like he does now. ]

Where are you?

Avoiding my room. [ He doesn't know why he hasn't moved wholesale to join the rest of the PPDC in the classroom. It's partly to give Raleigh and Mako space, partly to keep an eye out because he'd felt, for the first few weeks that he could be useful elsewhere.

But he hasn't been to the room nearly as often as he used to be, sleeping only when he needs to, napping elsewhere when he can manage.

And all because of that new roommate of theirs. Guy gave him the creeps. ]

And you're funny, you little shit. [ He says it with affection. ] Don't care if you're older now, [ Can I please joke about this, kid? ] I'm still your big brother. [ Let me joke about this. Tell me that we're fixed. ]

Am in the common area. Or we can go grab food, if you like.

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