Childhood is the best part of life.

At one year old, Charles Hansen slept soundly through the night, relieving his parents from fear that they would not be allowed rest. By the age of seven, Charles Hansen—now Chuck, thank you very much—was a schoolboy proper, complete with messy writing, a love of athleticism, and a proclivity for heroic tales of adventure and justice. His mother read him bedtime stories.

But by his tenth birthday, he had lost nearly everything.

There are many names in history.

At least that's what he told himself to fall asleep at night. Chuck Hansen was, in no uncertain terms, traumatized by his mother's death. By the age of twelve, he saw her every night as he stared at the metal ceiling in his new home, the Sydney Shatterdome. He dreamt of her screaming as buildings crushed her, as Kaiju Blue soaked through her skin, as Scissure crushed her between its monstrous fingers, in any of the many ways he imagined her death. And in every scenario, he watched, paralyzed by his inability to save her.

By the age of twelve, he blamed his father.

Hercules Hansen (Dad) and his brother Scott (Uncle Scott) enlisted in the Jaeger Academy when Chuck was only twelve. Chuck's anger overwhelmed him and he became more and more reclusive, quiet and sharp as steel. He glared at his father in the mess hall, choosing instead to talk to his Uncle Scott.

What did it matter anyway? His father's love seemed lacking. The machines became his father figure. They were the only outlet for a distraught young boy who lost his family. If not for this stupid war, he'd be smiling. Chuck would be playing pranks on his teacher and smiling innocently when his mother had to talk to the school's headmaster because of course her darling Charles couldn't possibly be guilty.

Instead, Chuck Hansen was picking up a wrench to tighten knots on the machine that would carry his only living blood relatives away from him.

At fourteen, he blames himself.

If Herc hadn't chosen his ten year old son, Mom would still be alive. They would be happy. His parents could try again; they could have another kid, hopefully in Chuck's memory. If she were alive, he wouldn't cry himself to sleep at night or ram his fist into his pillow, or the wall, or any hard surface in his path when he pictured her smiling face.

It's his fault. It's all his fault. If not for his damned existence, Angela Hansen would be alive and smiling. Never mind the Kaiju that keep coming through the Breach or the dangerous missions that Herc seems all too keen to go on, leaving his son behind. If not for Charles Hansen's meager existence, his mother would live.

That was the moment Chuck decided that he would be the best, in memory of her.

It's not obedience, it's rage.

Chuck is livid when his uncle is dishonorably dismissed from the Jaeger Program. He stops talking to his father, focusing instead on his rise to be the best. It doesn't matter that he was given the sweetest bulldog to grace the halls of any military establishment. It doesn't matter that he's the best of the best in his courses. His uncle is gone and it's his father's fault.

He finds himself in the Kwoon that day, running through motion after motion without rest or breath. He's screaming and crying and all he can see is his mother's face before him. Suddenly it's not just his mother's face that he sees but that of a young girl with top marks in their courses. He recognizes her—the girl from Tokyo.

He snarls through his tears but she quietly removes her shoes and walks toward him. He grips his bow up as though it could freeze time and free him from acknowledging her presence. He shouldn't be in the Kwoon, he shouldn't be practicing the movements of a Ranger, and he most certainly shouldn't be standing face to face with Mako Mori.

She bows to him and they engage.

They find themselves in the Kwoon every night, working through their familial frustrations with deep sighs and heavy sweat. They never talk but they don't need to. She understands.

The drift is silence.

For the first six months of their midnight Kwoon sessions, Chuck Hansen and Mako Mori do not acknowledge one another in the light of day. After six months and one day, they are not seen without the other. Chuck grins and laughs when he doesn't think his father is looking. Max trails her like she's another Hansen. Top marks, both of them, with no official Kwoon sessions to reinforce what they already know.

After a year of illicit Kwoon duels, Herc is the one to suggest it to Stacker. Both know what they should do. But are they detached enough to discover what the children have known for a year?

It's another six months before Stacker is prepared to see Mako engage with another student. He made her a promise and he intends to keep it—but she's not ready yet, he's not ready yet. That day, the Kwoon is occupied by two Rangers and two Rangers-to-be. With his father present, Chuck grits his teeth and is far too aggressive. With her father present, Mako stumbles, taken down too easily. It convinces Stacker: they are not drift-compatible.

That night, she pays him back tenfold for that embarrassment. He can't make sense of her moves: she is fire and ice, the eye of the hurricane. She curses in Japanese and he cannot keep track of it.

For the first time, Chuck Hansen is ashamed.

She does not make eye contact the next day and she does not meet him the next night. Max cries when Chuck keeps him on a leash and does not let him run to Mako. She is cold as steel and he returns the favor.

For the first time in eighteen months, he screams himself to sleep at night but this time it's Mako who is crushed by Kaiju claws.

This was just the beginning.

He is nearing his sixteenth birthday when she returns to the Kwoon. He bows to her first and she has him pinned to the ground in no time. His eyes do the apologizing but he's not sure that she accepts it. She does not let down her guard and they dance through the night.

The next day Chuck Hansen is assigned as a pilot for Jaeger Mark V, Striker Eureka, alongside his father, Hercules Hansen. Mako Mori is absent from the pinning ceremony.

Now when he sees her, she does not make eye contact but she doesn't need to. He can feel her thoughts—the rage that burns like the heart of the sun, the ice of his betrayal. But what choice did he have?

Today we will live forever.

It's now or never and he's sinking to the bottom of the ocean with her father beside him and his father above them and he wants to scream. Chuck Hansen wants to scream at Stacker Pentecost that this is all wrong because it should have been him in that Jaeger with Mako. He should have been the one to stand beside her against Leatherback and Otachi. He should be the one giving her his oxygen and falling through the Breach.

He doesn't say a word but he wants to scream and his body is burning, burning, burning.

Epilogue

Chuck Hansen, the Ranger, a fortnight dead,

Forgot the cries of dogs, and the deep sea swell

And the profit and loss.

Striker Eureka under sea

Dissolved his bones into whispers. As he rose and fell

He passes the stages of his age and youth

Entering the whirlpool.

Ranger or Man

All you, who turn the wheel and look windward,

Consider Chuck, who was once handsome and bright as you.