2025, January 2 – 19:58 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China
Following the impromptu tour, Greyson led Raleigh along the hallways and corridors until they reached his designated sleeping unit. Raleigh nudged the door open and strode into the barren room. He dropped his bag on the bed and started to unzip it, eager to be done with unpacking.
Greyson had followed him in, only taking a few steps over the threshold. She wanted to give him space, even if it did seem like they merely picked up where the relationship left off. The lieutenant watched his movements, patient. With his back to her, Raleigh finally spoke. "So, Sonny. What's the word?"
As a slight smirk pulled at her lips, Greyson huffed out a laugh. "Well, I do believe it's a shortened version of my name."
"No, seriously." Raleigh pulled some items from his duffel bag: a jacket and a stack of pictures all in a bundle. "You're restoring old Jaegers, cozying it up with Hansen, showing has-beens like me around." He finally turned to her, still fumbling with his belongings. "I know you; that can't all be it. What, you pilot now? Chief Officer?"
"I still help in the LOCCENT and do my work with J-Tech." Greyson shrugged noticeably, crossing her arms. "I'm, uh, actually under Herc — I guess he's considered the Marshal's second, despite retaining his Sergeant title."
"Isn't lieutenant above sergeant?"
"I don't know. Different department." She leaned against the doorframe, dismissing his question about military rank. "As for being a Ranger? I'm just not up for it."
He laughed, "Sure. But your simulator score was the highest in our class, back in the day." Raleigh's face changed into the expression he always made whenever he couldn't believe what someone was saying. "I know you're comfortable with the Drift, more so with Jaegers."
"It's been a while," she muttered. Greyson's eyes scanned the floor; avoiding the look she was given. "Things change. I wasn't Compatible with anyone else, but you already knew that."
"Are you not one of the candidates tomorrow?" Raleigh began to step closer to Greyson. Likely out of habit, but she figured old habits die hard.
She jutted her chin out, saying, "Nah. I'm apparently too cool to be on that list, y'know." After letting a short laugh roll through her, Greyson sobered. She sighed. "Familiarity aside, the Marshal—"
"—has his reasons," Raleigh finished for her. He looked down for a moment, sifting through the photographs in his hand. "But with you being the only other person we know that's Compatible with me, I can't imagine what they could be."
Raleigh was right, and she had wondered the same thing. Greyson had voiced her opinion to Marshal Pentecost before, that they were wasting valuable time with even looking for others. Hell, she saw that even Mako could have been a good fit. One day, she'd get her answer.
Greyson decided to change the subject, clearing her throat. "Miss Mori chose tomorrow's candidates precisely by your scores, runs, and... other mental tests she'd reviewed. She thoroughly studied your techniques and strategies." Lightly, she added, "And I've approved most of the reports."
"She doesn't like me much, does she?" Raleigh inquired.
"If it's any consolation, I think you proved her wrong." Greyson smiled again. "Before she met you, sure, you could say Mako didn't like you, though all she knew of you were skills, fights, and stats.
"She had seen you as unpredictable, a risk-taker." Greyson gave him a look, a comforting one, and made sure to add: "But I know you. You may be all of it, but so is everyone else in combat."
As she turned to leave, Raleigh reached for her hand. His hand was rough against hers, but warm despite the weather. "Greyson. Thank you."
She tilted her head, confused. "What for?"
"For not hating me."
Their eyes met, and it was like experiences of the last five years apart came pouring out in the silence. Greyson could feel the air between them, filled with old feelings and new ones. Tension, forgiveness, kinship – and an old spark that attracted them together.
Unless that was just Raleigh's post-flight aura.
"Do me a solid and jump into the shower, eh? If you ever need my non-hating ass, I'm just across the hall." And then: "Be ready to meet the candidates at six hundred hours, Marshal's orders."
Giving Raleigh's hand a squeeze, Greyson turned on her heel and marched to her room directly across from his. She opened the door and ran a hand through her dark hair, thoughts flying.
Did she hate him? No, not anymore. A couple of years ago, maybe the answer would have been yes. He just... dropped off the face of the earth when they needed each other most. And now he's back, as if nothing happened.
Did she hate him? No. She couldn't find it in herself to. What she hated was the pain of having a hole in her heart that was shaped like the one they both lost. She hated being left alone, not willing to put trust in others until one man made her feel needed again.
The lieutenant turned around to close her door. Raleigh came into view, and that was when she saw them. The scars. They littered Raleigh's left shoulder, crossing over his torso and back. She hadn't seen them since the incident, and the burns in his skin were less angry. The patterns to the scars were only just visible, having healed enough to seem like light shadows.
Raleigh and Greyson stared at each other. His expression remained neutral, but his eyes were different. They were scared, perhaps a little nervous, but surely weren't something Greyson had grown used to seeing.
Was he afraid of her seeing his scars? Did he think they marked his failure of not saving his older brother? Maybe.
Greyson only nodded slightly as her hand reached for the door lock. "I'll see you in the morning, Rals," she said instead. A soft smile painted Raleigh's lips as he nodded to her. She plopped herself haphazardly onto her chilled mattress when the door shut.
Tomorrow was going to be a big day.
2025, January 3 – 04:27 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China
Greyson awoke to a session of knocks on her door. Grumbling to herself, she slid off the bed, sluggishly making her way to the door. Not bothering to see who had woken her, she opened it.
"What?" she snapped, yawning almost immediately.
The person that was at the door just laughed. "Sorry," he said, smothered by chuckles. "Did I wake you?"
"If it wasn't obvious," Greyson muttered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She blinked, meeting Raleigh Becket's gaze. He had on a new uniform sweater, fairly identical to hers. "Are you trying to steal my wardrobe on purpose, or what?" she joked.
Looking down, Raleigh pulled at the hem of his sweater. "Oh." Raising a brow, the Becket sported a cheeky grin. "I do pull it off better, don't you think?"
"And when I thought your ego couldn't have gotten any bigger, Mr. Becket." Greyson just scoffed before telling him to wait for her to freshen up.
Raleigh smiled, standing patiently at the door frame. He called, "You know you love me, Ms. Darcy." She had thrown some expletives in his direction, but the toothbrush in her mouth muffled it.
Raleigh chatted her up on their way to the food. He asked about the other Ranger teams; Greyson asked him about his time working on The Wall. It was a sort of give-and-take that the Filipina missed. She noticed that they avoided all topics of Yancy's death.
When they arrived in the mess hall, Greyson didn't even bother being surprised at how most of the tables were taken up, even so early in the morning. It looked like any other mess hall in every military facility in the world.
The Russian Ranger, Aleksis Kaidonovsky cut in front of them, completely ignoring Raleigh but giving Greyson a curt nod. His wife, Sasha, held her hand out to beckon him over as the two of them passed their table.
Raleigh hesitantly took a glance back at them inconspicuously. "He's glaring at me — why is he glaring at me?"
Greyson said, "He's not glaring, just sizing you up."
"Why? Because I'm the new guy?"
"Because the Marshal chose you over Scott Hansen." Greyson left it at that. It wasn't the least bit true; Pentecost didn't even consider calling up the man, whatever he'd done in the past had already tainted his reputation.
Thankfully, Herc Hansen came down the steps with two filled trays in his hands. "Raleigh! Sonny!"
"Hey, Herc," Greyson said in greet, making a grab for one of the food trays. She frowned when he dodged her and all but handed a tray to Raleigh.
"Come sit with us," Herc said when he turned to the blond.
The one in question only smiled in respectful kindness, shaking his head. "No, I'm okay, thank you. I was just going to—"
"Nonsense. There's plenty of room at our table."
"C'mon, Rals." Greyson nudged his side. "Don't know any other suckers that'll willingly sit by your sorry ass." She began laughing to herself as they walked.
Raleigh threw shade with a serious bitch-face. "You're so hilarious," he hissed with an overly dramatic follow.
Herc shook his head, leading them to his table. There were a few other 'Dome staffers on the far end of the large bench. Chuck sat at the end with Max beside him. The sour look on his face turned into a smile upon seeing his girlfriend. "Mornin', love."
Greyson gave him a kiss before taking a seat, adjacent to Raleigh across the table.
"I haven't seen bread in a while," Raleigh remarked, moving beside Herc. He reached for a roll just as Greyson had; it was still warm.
"Hong Kong," Herc said. "The beauty of an open port. No rationing. We got potatoes, peas, sweet beans, some decent meatloaf..."
Max stood on his hind legs, his front paws resting on the space between the couple. As Chuck fed Max the meatloaf sitting on the table, Greyson noticed that he didn't have a full food tray like his father and Raleigh. She made a face at him, asking a silent question. Chuck just glanced at the two men across the table before shrugging and shaking his head in annoyance.
"Raleigh, this is my son, Chuck," Herc said in introduction to ease away from the previous conversation. He put down the mashed potatoes that he was previously shoveling onto his tray. "He's my co-pilot now."
Of course; the last time Raleigh saw Herc was in Manila, with Lucky Seven. Previously, Herc's brother Scott had been his winger. Greyson figured that Raleigh had remembered Chuck from last night. The reintroduction was probably just Herc's way of making a point to his son, that Raleigh was no outsider to them.
But Chuck had a tendency of deflecting everything his father said to him. "He's more my co-pilot now, right, Dad?" the son joked, a smirk strewn lazily on his lips.
Herc gave him a quizzical stare; one that said, Boy, you better be nice. Greyson nudged Chuck, giving him a separate look altogether.
"So, you're the guy, huh?" Chuck asked after clearing his throat. "You're the guy who's gonna run defense for me in that old rust bucket o' yours?"
Greyson noted the moment Herc froze entirely at his son's words, eye brows knitted together, only blinking his eyes once. The look he wore said it all: Oh, no, he did not.
"That's the plan," Raleigh muttered coolly.
"Hey," Greyson butted in, slightly offended. "Gipsy Danger's got some miles on her, but she's as good as new."
Chuck took the food and continued feeding Max. "Right. Good. When was the last time you jockeyed, Ray?" he inquired, looking Raleigh dead in the eye.
Ray?
Raleigh placed a hand on his hip, his tongue pushing at the inside of his cheek. "About five years ago."
"What've you been doing for five years? Something pretty important, I reckon."
"I was in construction," Raleigh answered gruffly, sliding into a poker-face. Greyson and Herc shared a look, and they both knew this wasn't going to end well.
Chuck huffed a laugh. "Oh! Well, that's great! That's really useful," he bit sarcastically. "You know, we get in a fight, you can build our way out of it, aye Ray?" He had said it so straightforward, so condescendingly. It almost hurt to watch.
"It's Raleigh," the owner of the name finally corrected. It was apparent that he was slowly and surely losing the cool temperament he had once acquired. Chuck's attitude matched Raleigh's old one, and they both knew it.
"Whatever," Chuck pressed. "Look. You're Pentecost's bright idea. My old man, he seems to like you, but its guys like you who brought down the Jaeger Program. To me, you're dead weight." He began to stand up, staring down Raleigh.
Greyson didn't look at him, but instead said in warning, "Let it go, Charlie..."
"You slow me down," Chuck continued, pulling his bull cap over his head, "I'm gonna drop you like a sack of Kaiju shit." He winked, clicking his tongue. "I'll see you around, Rahhleigh." He called for Max. They all watched him walk away.
"You can blame me for that one," Herc said, finally speaking up again. The other two looked his way. "I raised him on me own. Smart kid, but I never knew whether to give him a hug or a kick in the ass."
After a moment's thought, Raleigh answered, "With respect, sir, I'm pretty sure which one he needs."
Greyson snorted, then coughed, nearly choking on her drink. Herc kept a stoic face. "He's... been doing better lately, despite what you see," the father said, leveling with Raleigh. "Sonny's been good to him."
Raleigh looked her in the eyes, hiding a smile. To Herc, he said, "Yeah, Sonny does tend to do that to people."
"Oh, I dunno, Rals," she said, "it was pretty touch-and-go just now." She found an extra fork and reached across the table to eat off Raleigh's tray.
"I take it back," he slowly muttered, with a sly smile on his face. "You're the one who needs a kick in the ass."
The lieutenant shrugged, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Chuck's a perfectionist. He's too prideful for his own good, but he sure does make up for it in battle." Giving a knowing glance to Herc, she finished, "Respectfully, it runs in the family."