#jannajinx

ii.

“Didn’t know you and Jinx used to be friends,” Talon says, memories sleeting around them of Jay, laughing and grabbing Janna’s hand, Jay hanging from Janna’s ankles as she flies, Janna using her powers to steal clothes off washing lines.

“It’s Jay – and we’re still friends.” Janna isn’t tempted to chase after the memories. She’s worn them threadbare already, holding them to her heart like security blankets every time that Jinx makes the news.

“Ever thought of drifting with her?”

Janna’s startled into a laugh, her fingers flexing against the controls automatically. She stops them swiftly and shakes her head instead.

“The program would never accept her as a Jaeger pilot.” Jay would love it though. She’d delight in having such big guns and being inside such a massive mech. Janna can practically hear Jay’s laughter (and then it turns sharp and unbalanced, the mad laughter of a mad girl armed with a machine she should have never been allowed near).

“Never said she should be a Jaeger pilot – the practice simulators can be run by just two people. You wouldn’t need any of the scientists helping if you could sneak her into one of them.” Talon’s words are cool, devoid of emotion as always, and when Janna looks at him sharply, his expression is neutral as he keeps talking. “Maybe seeing herself through your memories would make her remember what it felt like to be Jay.”

“…Why are you helping?” She’s seen enough of Talon’s memories to know the man is far from altruistic. He’s not even a patriot, killing for his own gain rather than his country’s.

Talon doesn’t answer with words. Instead, a memory comes from his side.

{-- a man with long white hair, spinning in a slow circle, surrounded by men who drop to their knees. Blood streams from their mouths and when their heads crack backwards, they do not fall like the corpses they now are but rise to their feet and bow to her--}

“He likes to kill people too,” Talon says, tone still so horribly dispassionate. “But he’s sane. Or at least saner than your Ji—Jay.”

They’re drift compatible because they both had terrible childhoods that were no childhoods at all, or so Janna had thought. She realizes now that it goes deeper than that. Both of them love murderers who love bloodshed best of all.

iii.“What are you doing here, windy lady?” Jinx asks, Fishbones pointing at Janna with an open mouth and a maniac grin. Her gun resembles Jinx, whom Janna can tell is coming down from one of her Moods.

“I came to bring you a present, Jay,” Janna says and waits for the now-familiar rebuke.

“It’s Jinx, windy lady.” Jinx huffs exaggeratedly, blowing a blue strand of hair away from her face by puffing out the corner of her mouth. “Do I have to tell you that every time?”

Every time. Jinx remembers correcting her before.

As painful as the encounter is, Janna smiles at this proof of continuity. She holds both her hands now, feet not quite touching the floor. “Maybe. Do I have to tell you every time that my name is Janna?”

“What makes you think your name is worth remembering?” Jinx scoffs, tossing her blue braids behind her. Curiosity sparks bright in her eyes and she lowers Fishbones just slightly. “Where’s this present anyway?”

“It’s a surprise.” It hurts to do so, but Janna smiles again, turning to drift through the air towards the warehouse where she and Talon stashed the borrowed neural simulator. “Come on.”

Whether it’s because of her curiosity or some remnant of friendship, Jinx follows. When she sees the two chairs and the helmets, she balks, setting her feet firmly in the floor. “Oh no. You’re not getting me in those! There’s nothing wrong with my head that your electricity’s gonna fix!”

“…It’s not like that. It’ll let you see into my mind,” Janna says, pushing away questions about who tried electro-shock therapy on Jinx. She’ll see the answers in Jinx’s mind anyway, if this works. She floats over to the chairs and settles down in one, pulling the helmet down, “See? Nothing.”

“Then I’ll take that chair and you take the other,” Jinx says promptly. Janna vacates the chair and settles into the other, watching as Jinx sits down with Fishbones on her lap. She keeps the mouth of the gun pointed at Janna, her finger on the trigger, and Janna hopes desperately that nothing in the drift makes Jinx convulse and start seizing. If they go out of alignment and Jinx reflexively tightens her grip…

“Initiating neural handshake,” the machine says calmly and Jinx looks around wildly.

“What was that?” Jinx demands but it’s too late.