Junmyeon, in an uncharacteristic display of anger and barely-there restraint, leans against his gigantic concrete desk. Dawn begins to seep in, soft sunlight entering the room from the vast window. The light glitters against the two calming pools of water in Junmyeon’s office. Under normal circumstances, the setting would be richly comforting -- like a reminder of the good things in life. But Junmyeon is livid; his casual stance doesn’t imply a casual demeanor, but rather indicates that his typically impeccable self-control is slipping in his rage.

“Would anyone like to explain how we lost one of our best Jaegers and nearly two of our best pilots in a matter of hours?” He spits, cold eyes drifting between you and his own protege.

Sehun looks to the side, refusing to make eye contact, and you try your best not to wither under Marshal Kim’s stare.

“Well?”

You glance over at Sehun, then make a quick decision. Maybe an apology is what the Marshal wants.

“I’m sorry, Marshal,” you pipe up, head bowed in deference. “I’m a rookie and I didn’t wait to check whether Ranger Oh’s strategies aligned with my split-second decision to fire the plasma cannon. We might not have entered freefall if I’d deferred to Ranger Oh.”

Silence ensues. You’re not entirely sure if you said something wrong. So you look up, only to find that Marshal Kim’s cold glare is fixed on his friend and not on you.

The quiet continues, and you wonder how Sehun has managed not to move a muscle. You’re beginning to fidget at the oppressive weight of the silence.

“Marshal Kim --”

But the Marshal holds up one hand, keeping you quiet. You shut your mouth and shrink back into your chair.

“It wasn’t you,” he addresses you. “Without firing the plasma cannon, Otachi would have flown you into higher altitudes, and she would have been too strong for Yixing and I to handle in Gipsy Valor had she not been injured. What I want to know is why Ranger Oh --” Marshal Kim spits the name out, each syllable laced with venom, completely uncharacteristic of his usual soft spot for the younger pilot. “-- discouraged your decision in the first place. The drift is a place of complete trust, and the compatibility tests are done to ensure that your fighting is completely in sync.”

But Sehun stays silent, eyes still avoidant.

You let out a squeak against your will, remembering something that Yixing mentioned at the end of your neural calibration. Marshal Kim’s eyes whip to your face, his focus narrowing on you.

“What is it, Ranger?” He demands. At last, Sehun shifts in his seat.

“...This could be nothing,” you clarify immediately, words a little panicked. You’d like to keep your job, even if you’re an understudy for the remaining Jaegers. “But Head Technician Zhang mentioned that our drift link was a little shaky towards the end of calibration.”

Marshal Kim’s eyes narrow, and he raises an eyebrow. “Go on,” he encourages, voice still tight but purposefully softer for you. You glance worriedly at Sehun, noticing slight tension in his jaw before he turns away once more.

“Uh…” You look down at your knees. “Towards the end of it, I stopped seeing memories. There weren’t any scenes, no people -- nothing. Just a hazy blue void, an aura almost, for a few seconds. I’ve never experienced anything like that in any simulation, Marshal, so perhaps there might have been something off with the tech.”

But Marshal Kim’s heard enough. He dismisses you.

“Shouldn’t I stay here with my co-pilot--”

“Go.” Marshal Kim repeats, the affirmation cold and deadly as he pushes himself off his desk. “You’ve done well, Ranger, but there are things I must discuss with Ranger Oh. Alone.”

You nod, hurriedly collecting your belongings, and head for your quarters.

-------------------------------------

Junmyeon reaches for the chair you just vacated, dragging it over to drop it in front of Sehun. The metal screeches harshly against the concrete floors, but Sehun doesn’t react to the horrible noise. Slinging one leg over the chair, Junmyeon rests his forearms on the chair’s back and straddles it, facing his friend. He struggles to hold back his suspicion and anger, but he fears the worst.

“Is that…” He begins tentatively, sounding considerably more like the worried leader Sehun’s more familiar with. “Is that what you were testing in the simulation rigs? Neural drift blockouts?”

Sehun’s continued silence tells Junmyeon everything he needs to know. All he needs to do is read the way Sehun’s muscles tense; how the cords in his forearm tighten, and how the younger man tries his best to slowly release his grip.

“You know you can’t hide anything from the drift. Not if you want to live.” Junmyeon’s voice is resigned -- anger doesn’t work with Sehun, and honestly, the Marshal is exhausted. He wants this whole debacle to be over and he wants the breach closed.

He just wants all of this kaiju business behind humanity at long last -- and the last thing he needs is an obstinate pilot risking all of their lives for the sake of goodness knows what. Dignity? Honor?

Junmyeon isn’t sure when Sehun became a person with secrets to hide. Trusting and always tailing after his hyungs, Sehun was always the least likely to dishonor anyone -- but perhaps something eroded his intense sense of loyalty. Perhaps something was chipping away at Sehun’s open, trusting nature.

“But it worked, didn’t it? The neural link connected and we got into the fight just fine.” Sehun speaks at last, the words coming out haughty and clipped.

“Just fine? Your utter lack of synchronization in determining a last-second battle strategy quite literally cost us your entire Jaeger -- and almost both of your lives. Your ship is scrap metal now, with our fastest craft trying to dredge up whatever they can and clean up any potential oil spills.”

Sehun scowls, merely switching his crossed legs and tightening his arms around his body. But as stoic and unmoved as he pretends to be, Sehun knows better. The parallels between your last moments in Black Pearl together and Johnny’s last seconds of his life aren’t lost on Sehun -- two split-second decisions, two disagreements, nearly two lives lost.

He knows he’s at fault, and he knows it’s due to the distrust he took into the drift. Johnny had opened up his mind, spilling his secrets as they neurally calibrated right before that last, destined fight -- never mind that he hid them in daily life. Sehun was hiding memories not just from you, but the drift, and now he knew that doing so was dangerous.

“Sehun…” Something strikes Junmyeon, and he needs to know more. His voice drops into something more cautious, more gentle. “Did something happen in your last drift with Johnny?”

Guess Sehun wasn’t the only one drawing comparisons.

“It’s nothing,” Sehun snaps, leaning down to grab his rucksack and head for the door.

Junmyeon gives an exasperated exhale, but he allows Sehun to storm out of his office. He sits in the soft sunlit glow for a few minutes, mind trying to play back old memories from over a year ago. Then he gets up to quietly fold the chairs and stow them away, before he returns to his desk and slumps into the larger chair. Something nags at his brain, something Yixing said about Black Pearl’s pilots right before they were carted off for that fateful battle.  Something threw their drift off-course, and Junmyeon thinks the same happened again. The only thing in common between the two events was Sehun. Something was in that man’s mind, something that interfered with the sacred connection between pilots and Jaeger that kept all of them alive.

----------------------------------------------------

Days later, you still haven’t heard any updates on your job or your future at the Shatterdome -- but the other Jaeger pilots continue puttering around their daily lives. For them, training goes on. The doomsday clock ticks for them -- every second it moves forward is another second closer to sending the other pilots into combat.

But you? You don’t have anything to drive. You don’t even have a co-pilot that likes you. No, you have a co-pilot that avoids you at every possible turn and hides things from you.

Suddenly you’re not as interested in finding out what Sehun knows. Almost dying in a rig has changed your priorities somewhat -- you’d still like to keep your job, to avenge your late boyfriend, of course, but whatever it is Sehun can’t tell you about the day Johnny died, maybe you don’t really need it in your life after all. If it’s something he’s this keen on hiding, maybe it’s something you’re better off not knowing.

You wander listlessly through the halls of the Shatterdome, trying to block out the gossip and the stares as you await further instruction.

----------

You sit on the edge of a makeshift basketball court in the main bay. It’s situated between the feet of Deux Lunes and Tornado Spiral, and you wonder how the latter Jaeger’s three pilots can bear to play ball under the heat of a third arm being re-welded to their rig several stories above.

Tucking yourself into a ball, you rest your head on your forearms as you watch the two Jaegers’ pilots engage in a rather sloppy game of HORSE.

Chanyeol, as you’ve come to know, is the one who takes the game most seriously -- he can’t lose anything, especially not a kaiju fight, and he hollers in glee as the others start to fail either from fatigue or lack of interest. Minseok does pretty well, as athletic as usual, but his stature leaves something to be desired when the hoop is a lot closer to Chanyeol’s extended fingers than his. He complains loudly, jumping up as best he can, but to no avail (against the backdrop of Chanyeol’s delighted laughter).

Baekhyun gave up on the game long ago, already plopped down beside you as he chugs an electrolyte drink and makes fun of his friends from the sidelines. Always a mood-maker, he tries to cheer you up with a relentless stream of jokes.

A loud, triumphant shout comes from the court, and you look up to see Chanyeol slamming the ball onto the ground before it bounces away -- then the tall man beats at his chest before getting into Jongdae’s face for a good joshing.

Rolling his eyes, Kyungsoo jogs over to where you sit, flanking you on the other side and grabbing a sports drink of his own. “Leave her alone, Baek,” he says out of the corner of his mouth before taking a sip. “Give her space.”

“I don’t mind it,” you smile slightly, and Baekhyun (of course) takes that as an opening for him to continue with the rest of his comedy act.

“Sorry,” Kyungsoo mutters under his breath. He sits beside you, wiping at his sweat. “He’s just trying to compensate for what an Sehun’s been to you. Really, he’s usually very sweet, if snarky -- so none of us know what’s up with him. All we know is that you don’t deserve any of it.”

You sigh. “It’s alright. I should have known; he didn’t want me as his co-pilot from the start. Even I’m not sure why the compatibility results came out so high; clearly there’s something wrong with the system.”

But Minseok catches the last bit of your conversation as he walks towards your huddle, and objects. “If the system was faulty, we’d all be experiencing issues with the drift.” He nods in the direction of Psycho, situated across the Shatterdome’s bay. Irene and Joy train together, movements totally synchronized. Then Minseok points at Rising Sun, gesturing at her two pilots rappelling down her frame with welding masks on. Every step they take down the Jaeger is measured and balanced, and they help each other patch up loose plates on her hull.

“Sure, the three of us don’t seem well-matched,” he gestures at Tornado Spiral’s pilots. “Baekhyun is a force of chaos and he’ll drag Jongdae into his messes, but I balance the two off for the most part. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo act like they hate each others’ guts --” He’s interrupted by a loud objection behind him. “-- I mean, Kyungsoo acts like he hate’s Chanyeol’s guts, but they’ve actually been best friends for so long that I think their parents have nearly adopted the other one. Despite their constant bickering, their compatibility is sound.”

Then Minseok turns his gaze back to you, before bending down into a compact little squat to be at your eye-level. “Junmyeon told me your compatibility tests matched Sehun’s so closely that it would be ridiculous to not pair you. According to him, the last time he saw metrics that perfect, it was for Johnny and Sehun. Clearly there’s something that’s interfering with your connection to Sehun, but if the numbers didn’t lie for us, then they didn’t lie for you, either.”

You keep your eyes downcast. “I guess. Johnny always said he thought Sehun and I would get along extremely well -- but it’s so strange that we’re not.”

Minseok places his hands on his knees and straightens up. “Talk to Sehun. We know that kid well, and he doesn’t act out for no reason.”

And then the older man yelps out in pain, the sharp and hollow sound of a basketball smacking into his back ringing out in the hall. With a loud ‘YAH!,’ he races after a giggling Chanyeol, who only points to an equally giggly Jongdae.

You can’t help but smile. This band of brothers truly is close; you can’t doubt their drift compatibilities.

Then you hear someone barking your name. All of the men scurry into a straight line, facing the source of the noise, and you realize it’s Marshal Kim.

“At ease, guys,” the Marshal smiles, but the motion doesn’t meet his eyes. “We’re all friends, regardless of my job title.”

“Oh, we know,” Chanyeol quips. “This is just our way to show our supreme leader ultimate deference--” He whines when Kyungsoo smacks him upside the head, but the group relaxes into looser stances regardless.

Then Marshal Kim affixes his gaze to you. Technician Zhang stands beside him, a clipboard in hand.

“Come with us,” Technician Zhang says simply, and you follow.

--------------

You and Sehun stand awkwardly side-by-side, barefoot, facing the two Gipsy Valor pilots in the combat training room. You’re starting to get sick of these walls, really.

“As you know, there isn’t much left of Black Pearl for you to pilot,” Marshal Kim starts off. “But we’re not going to reassign you to different rigs as understudies.”

“Don’t worry,” Technician Zhang pipes up, a soft smile reassuring you. “You’re not losing your jobs as pilots, as much as Marshal Kim wants to drop Sehun.”

Sehun’s mouth drops as if he wants to object, but he closes it quickly and scowls instead.

“Uh,” you speak up. “But there aren’t any Jaegers we can pilot, not without booting out other Rangers. And sir, your judgment on each assignment was more than sound. All the other Rangers are well-suited to their rigs.”

Marshal Kim’s mouth twitches upward in a knowing smile.

“Well, there is one Jaeger,” he remarks, pulling out two training kama from behind him. He tosses them to Sehun, who barely unlinks his fingers fast enough from where they’re fastened behind him in order to catch the flying weapons.

You gape at the Marshal against your better judgment. “Gipsy? YOUR Jaeger? Sir, we couldn’t possibly--”

“Neither can we,” Technician Zhang frowns a bit. “We’re out of the business of piloting, and that last run to save your butts told us as much. We’ve flown too many missions and have too much work to do outside of a comm-pod -- our skills are better placed elsewhere when we have two capable pilots that can drive her.”

“But -- our drift -- it’s faulty, isn’t this a risk--”

Marshal Kim raises his eyebrows. “We think that Gipsy’s combat style is quite amenable to yours,” he says to you. “Two-handed, light weapons. It might be beneficial for you both to train in this style, with each other -- it was my mistake for relying on compatibility test results alone and not to force you to work on your bond together. Sehun, this will be new to you, knowing that you and Johnny worked more with ranged combat. But I believe she is more than capable at being your guide, and this is an opportunity for you both to strengthen your connections and open up to each other.”

“Hyung--” Sehun objects verbally now, body starting forward as he tosses the kama to the mat. “I mean, Sir,” he clarifies when Junmyeon blinks once. “Isn’t Jongin available? He can train me, I’ll be fine--”

“No,” Yixing smiles, dimples set deep into his cheeks. “It’ll work better if she trains you. You need more time together, alone, to figure out why your drift had hiccups. Remember -- total trust, complete openness. You know how it goes, so it’ll take both of you to figure it out.”

And Marshal Kim and Technician Zhang disappear, fleeing as fast as possible.

----------

You both stand still in the training room, not acknowledging the other. You’re not sure what to do -- do you start training him now? Are you supposed to order him around like he’s truly your student? He’s the more senior pilot, so …. What are you supposed to do?

But it’s Sehun that surprises you with a deep, eyes-closed inhale before bending down to pick up the kama.

“Gipsy is an impressive Jaeger,” his voice cuts smoothly through the silence. It’s quiet, reserved -- much softer than any other conversation you’ve had with him -- and you wonder if this is how Sehun truly sounds. “Two-handed daggers. Definitely more your style than mine, and I’ve seen you fight. You’re good.”

You’re more than surprised to hear a compliment leave your begrudging partner’s lips. You splutter out severely delayed gratitude, and bow.

“Well?” Sehun asks, transferring the two kama to one hand so he can divest himself of his jacket. He turns back towards you after discarding the garment, his upper body covered only by a thin white T-shirt.

“Well, what?” You ask, thoroughly perplexed by his sudden generosity of speech.

“Aren’t you going to teach me?”

You could swear he smirks somewhat at your befuddlement, but as you shake your head to clear it, you decide that it’s just a trick of the flickering fluorescent lights. You suppress a smile yourself -- as frustrated as you’ve been with him, this is the first time he’s truly leaned towards you as an equal and come to you first. Dashing off to the equipment room, you elect to use two small rods instead of your usual sickles -- best to get started on the dagger format ASAP.

Then you reenter the practice room, taking your position across from Sehun, and falling into an opening stance. Your mind quiets as you focus, and you notice the change in his expression as he does the same.

You shout, more a formality than anything else, then lunge towards Sehun.

--------------

Three agonizing hours later, Jongin walks confidently into the practice room, only to see his good friend and you lying on the mat, breathing heavily in exertion. He recoils from the surprise, immediately backtracking out of the room before he’s noticed.

Best not to interfere in the first promising signs of you working together, at last.

--------------

Sehun is winded, and he can’t remember the last time he had his handed to him like that. He tries to roll himself towards his water bottle, but his muscles scream in agony from a toxic blend of fatigue and bruises from being thrown and attacked more times than he can count.

He’s not a bad fighter in the slightest; in fact, he thinks he’s pretty damn good, but two-handed weapons have never been his forte. Being honest with himself, you truly are much better. And as you both spar, in earnest rather than in some sort of one-sided test he’s set up to try to make you fail, Sehun sees why your assessment scores matched so well to his.

Throughout the entire training session, he fails to truly best you even once, but he can tell that it’s not because you can’t work together. No, it’s purely from his own inexperience, and from your advice and instruction he knows that if he puts in as much effort as he saw you exerting during your memories in the drift, he’ll meet every one of your offenses -for- -- in perfect synchronization.

Sparring with you brings back memories of his cadet days with Johnny, grappling on the mat before collapsing in exhausted laughter. Sehu