Dr. Lee found both men to give Chuck an update on Herc's condition, which was rather positive. There was no infection, the vitals were stable. His father had been briefly awake, though not really coherent, and the tube would be removed by tomorrow.

Raleigh had been there, a silent, steady rock in the stormy sea of Chuck's thoughts and emotions.

Bond had dropped by, checking in on them. He had also told the two pilots that until further notice, Epic North was grounded. He didn't need a Drift gone haywire because of Chuck's unstable mind.

He had bristled at that, snarled at the interim Marshall, and he would probably have ended up with quite a mark on his record if James hadn't been such a tolerant guy and the extenuating circumstances.

Skyfall, which meant Q and Bond, wouldn't go for a dive either. If there was the necessity to deploy a Jaeger, it would be Mako and Raleigh piloting Epic.

"Fuck," Chuck snarled when Bond was gone, glaring at the closed doors.

Raleigh smiled slightly. "You know it's the right decision."

"I don't have to like it, though!"

"No, you don't. We're not at war anymore, Chuck. We don't have to be battle ready. Vancouver has two operational teams in case something is needed down at the ocean floor. Newton is happy with what he already has and Dr. Gottlieb hasn't surfaced from his Breach model for over a week."

Chuck looked at his sleeping father, the tube, the instruments everywhere. "I know," he muttered.

Raleigh was right behind him, a powerful physical presence, and Chuck was so, so tempted to lean back. An arm curled around his waist, drawing him against a firm chest, and maybe he made a very undignified sound, some needy little whimper, when dry lips ghosted over his cheek.

"We'll get through this."

We. Them. Not Chuck alone.

"You might want to drop by Tendo and give Max a good scratch. Poor thing has been moping."

Chuck felt a bubble of laughter. It was brief, rough, but it was laughter.

"Yeah."

He didn't deserve this.

He was given another close-mouthed kiss, then Raleigh withdrew. Chuck glanced at him, at a loss for a moment, aware that he was probably staring at Raleigh like a little boy who had no idea what would happen now. His shields were screwed, especially around this man.

Raleigh's smile was calming, soothing, reassuring like everything Becket had done so far. How come Chuck had come out of Operation Pitfall an even greater mess than before and Raleigh had found inner peace? And was it even possible for Chuck to be more of a lost cause than before?

Apparently.

He was shit at personal stuff and emotions were… something he had tried not to deal with, unless they hit him square in the face. Like now.

"Take your time here. I'll update the others and walk Max."

"I…"

"You stay with Herc. He's your dad, Chuck. Everyone understands."

Raleigh understood just perfectly well. He had lost all of his family. Like Mako, who had watched her surrogate father sacrifice himself in Striker Eureka.

Another mountain of guilt piling up behind Chuck. Even though Mako had never accused him of anything. Even though he and Mako had talked, over more than one beer and a lot of hard liquor, getting bloody-arse drunk. Even though, he still felt like he could have done something.

The next kiss was harder, initiated by Chuck, and he stared hard into the blue eyes.

Emotions were not his thing. Not like that. Not talking about them. He was a pro at not talking about stuff, relying on the Drift to do just that. Raleigh smiled more, thumb brushing over the clean-shaven cheek.

Then he left the room and Chuck dropped heavily into the only chair.

"Shit," he whispered. "Bloody arse hell."

x X XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX xx X

Mako came by later that day, after a nurse had tried to get Chuck to leave, after Dr. Lee had checked on Herc again, telling Chuck he was doing fine.

She looked busy, carrying her ever-present tablet, but there was a smile on her lips.

"How are you doing?"

Chuck shrugged.

They had left the room, migrated to the coffee machine down the hallway, and he felt slightly more like himself today than yesterday. Mako had brought a wrapped sandwich. Chuck had been eternally grateful.

"Raleigh," she had only said.

Well, shit. Becket was a damned saint and Chuck felt like shit on a shoe for it. He hadn't met Mako's eyes, fumbling with the generously made sandwich.

"He loves you, Chuck. Never doubt it."

Those words had his head come up, eyes widening, and the deer-in-the-headlights analogy was probably rather fitting in that very second. Mako's smile was wider now.

"Wonder why," he mumbled.

She placed her tablet next to her on the seat. They were alone in the coffee area and the people walking past gave them the necessary privacy.

"I heard your father is doing well. He will heal. Dr. Lee assured Marshall Bond that the tube will come out this evening if the lung checks out alright."

He nodded.

"It is good news."

Another nod.

Mako briefly touched his arm, gaining his attention, and Chuck wished she didn't know him so well.

But she did.

She knew his pain. Some of that pain was her own. She had lost her parents to the Kaiju, her own relatives had refused to take care of her because she was a girl, and Pentecost had been her surrogate father ever since. She had lost him, too.

Yes, Mako Mori knew the pain of loss, the desperation to hold on to the only parent one had left.

"Sorry," he choked out.

For lashing out at her when everyone had frantically tried to get Herc out of that hole in the ground.

When she had tried to be there, to comfort him.

When she had stayed with him in the emergency room after he had told Raleigh in very clear words that he didn't want him or needed him.

Mako's calm, serene smile had something inside him unwind. "You were under a lot of pressure. Everyone understands. Especially Raleigh."

"Yeah."

"And he loves you."

Which is why he put up with so much shit? Chuck wondered faintly. Like Herc always did?

His father had taken a lot of abuse from Chuck in many forms, but he had never lost it. There had been the looks and the frowns, the downward pull of his lips, the narrowing of eyes, and the occasional sharp word.

They had clashed. Often. Frequently. With vigor. And it made them so much stronger. There had been those in the past that had interpreted their team dynamics wrong, who had drawn the wrong conclusions. They hadn't seen the united front the Hansens held against an outside attack on their compatibility, on their family ties.

They had been taught.

Herc loved his son. He was proud of his son. He would protect him against everyone and everything. He had gone up against Marshalls, against other men and women calling them unstable or unfit.

Father and son had shown them just what they were made of. Even if Herc stepped back and left the limelight to his son. Even if he intercepted Chuck when he was about to make a mistake.

Like trying to go at Raleigh again.

And Chuck mirrored those feeling.

He was intensely protective of his father and now, with the close call jarring him, Chuck had lashed out more than usual.

"You and I have been in Raleigh's head," Mako reminded him. "You know him as well as I do. Maybe even more. Your connection is a different one from the one I shared. You are emotionally involved and invested."

He swallowed hard.

"You know his pain, he knows yours. He knows about your dedication to your father. The Marshall is a strong man and he has a very strong son." Her hand, still resting on his arm, squeezed it again. "That strength will get you through this."

Chuck felt a wave of exhaustion. He was tired beyond words and his head throbbed painfully.

Mako's hand was on his face, cool and soothing. "Sleep, Chuck. You need to sleep. Don't run yourself into the ground. The Marshall will need you when he wakes."

He nodded and she rose, a stern expression in her eyes. She was his age and still so much older, so much more settled and at ease with herself. Mako Mori was what Chuck Hansen wanted to be and failed at every step of the way.

"You are a child, Chuck Hansen," she had told him when he had come to apologize to her after the incident with Raleigh.

When he had called her a bitch.

When he had provoked Raleigh into a fight that had back-fired on Chuck.

"You behave liked a spoiled little boy. As if your toys were taken from you. As if your father has gained a new son, a brother you hate."

It had been so true back then. So painfully true. Mako had taken one look at him and known.

She had known the moment he had verbally laid into Becket.

"I went out of alignment," she had continued. "I failed the Drift. I chased a rabbit and he saved me. All of us are damaged, Ranger Hansen. Even you."

It had been long after Operation Pitfall, when Chuck had been released from the hospital, when he had finally been able to move around.

He had apologized and they had gotten rip-roaring drunk.

It had been a good day.

Now Mako looked at him, her soft face reflecting understanding. It was different from the way Raleigh looked at him, and still so very much the same.

"I meant what I said. Please sleep."

"I'd rather get piss-poor drunk."

It got him a smile. "Later. When I won't take advantage of your current state."

He bristled. "Hey!"

Mako chuckled softly. "Sleep, Chuck. Please. When you are better, I promise we will get drunk together."

"I'll hold you to that."

She bowed her head, the smile still there.

Oh yeah, they would get smashed. Totally.

She left him in the small coffee area and Chuck refilled his cup. He ate the rest of his sandwich, then returned to his dad's room.

Though he was tired, he knew he couldn't sleep. It was impossible.

x X XX

But his body had a different idea.

Chuck dropped off unwillingly not much later. Not even the coffee had been enough to keep him going.

x X XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX xx X

When Herc woke a second time it was to a much clearer head, no tube, and the sight of his son asleep with his head pillowed on the mattress. His left eye was still covered and he still ached everywhere, but he no longer felt like he was under water, with a brain that didn't want to cooperate, and a body that was sluggish and not his own.

It was almost dark in the room, only the twilight of the muted lamps from over the headboard shedding some illumination. Since the infirmary ran a day-night-schedule, it had to be night.

He took stock first. Yes, there was the pain. Dull, coming from the left side of his chest. Also his left arm and hand. He could move his hands and feet, though his left hand was thickly bandaged, which was a matter of concern for him, and his arm was immobilized.

Well, fuck. Not again. He hated that shit.

The leaden feeling had eased a little, but he didn't feel like he could jump out of bed and into a Jaeger any time soon.

That his son was sleeping in his hospital room was another dead giveaway that this hadn't just been a bump on the head. Chuck had semi-hovered around him after Herc had broken his arm in that stupid stunt he had had to pull, but he hadn't camped out in the infirmary.

Oh kid… he thought with a faint smile.

Herc raised the hand not wrapped in bandages like he was a goddamn mummy to clumsily run his fingers through Chuck's hair.

It had an almost immediate reaction.

Chuck's head came up, dislodging the hand, and he blinked at Herc, blue-gray eyes sleep heavy in a face that was pale even in this twilight.

"Dad?" he breathed, voice as rough as he looked.

"Hey there, kid." His own voice was breathy, whisper-soft, a far cry from his usual strength.

"Dad!"

He had never seen such relief, such unshielded joy, such… Herc swallowed. His boy. He could read the pain, the sleepless nights, the hope and fear, and he could read the bone-deep exhaustion, now intermingling with the relief that his father was awake.

A cough had Herc wince. It tore at whatever was wrong in his side. Chuck immediately reached for a glass of water, helping him to a sip.

"Slow."

"You look like shit, Chuck," he murmured.

It got him the expected and wanted laugh, followed by that familiar mask sliding into place. "Look who's talking."

But the mask was failing. It was cracking, splintering before his very eyes.

This had been incredibly bad.

"How long?" he asked.

"Three days," was the answer and Chuck's voice wavered.

Damn it all to hell!

Herc tried to raise his other hand to touch the still covered eye, but the IV lines hindered him. And where there was stuff going in through a tube, there had to be a tube for stuff going out, he realized.

Ah hell…

"Leave it," Chuck said, carefully touching the bandages to push the hand back down. "It's a cut and a bad bruise. Too close to the eye, not the eye itself."

Herc felt relief hit him. "What else?" he wanted to know.

"Punctured lung."

That explained the pain.

"Got some cuts in your arm and hand, and some burns. Nothing major. Mostly bumps and bruises."

Yes, he did feel like he had gone ten rounds with a Kaiju and lost.

"I… I need to call the nurse," Chuck said, sounding insecure, so much younger than he always tried to appear.

Young.

Gawd, his boy was young. Only twenty-two. He hadn't needed this on top of everything else.

Herc was suddenly aware of his son holding his hand and he squeezed it reassuringly. Chuck looked almost embarrassed, but Herc refused to let go. He knew his son like no one else. He knew his boy and he knew there was a lot Chuck couldn't talk about, a lot that was going through his head.

Their eyes met and held.

Six years of Drifting together had left a mark, an echo. Herc could feel it, despite the fact that Raleigh was now Chuck's partner. He hadn't felt jealous, only relieved. He thought of it as a positive mark, nothing to be ashamed of or to worry about.

Herc had also read about the evaluation on himself and his son as Drift partners. It had been a detailed report from the medical staff about him, his age, and it had made his blood pressure rise. They had stated that the number of deployments was eroding his reaction time and the strength of the neural handshake.

'Operational readiness does not seem to be affected as of yet. Hansen's readiness must be observed, however. Should combat readiness lapse beyond acceptable threshold, it should be suggested to Sergeant Hansen that he move into the command structure.'

Well, that had happened, Herc mused angrily. As the Marshall he wouldn't be able to pilot a Jaeger in a battle situation. He was now one of the commanders, the bureaucrats.

But it had irked him that his age and the deployments had been drawn up as the reason for it. He and Chuck had never failed a mission, had always been steady in their neural handshake. When he had come to the report from the psychological staff, talking about the tension between him and his son, that it might affect the duration and strength of a Drift, he had nearly laughed out loud.

They had no idea about him and Chuck. None at all!

Yes, they had been right about Chuck trying to take over the dominant role in Striker Eureka, that he tried to supplant his father, but it didn't mean they were an unstable partnership.

Hell, his kid had kept Herc on his toes and it had made them so much stronger.

It was in the past now, he knew.

Chuck had needed someone to Drift with him again and after a lot of fighting, Raleigh had taken that place.

He was glad.

And when things finally evened out around the Shatterdome, Herc had every intention of taking a Jaeger down to the ocean floor one day, too.

With Chuck.

Ghosts seemed to whisper between them, old memories of their time together.

Chuck gave him a smile, private, knowing, filled with a love he couldn't talk about in so many words.

Then he stepped back, almost reluctantly letting go of his father's hand, and he pushed the call button for the nurse.

x X XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX x XX xx X

Visitors were restricted. Family and a few of the command staff. That meant Chuck, of course, as Herc's only family. Tendo had free pass as well. James came and went as he pleased as the deputy Marshall. Raleigh had dropped by after Herc had told the nurses that Becket was as good as family.

Everyone else had been told that the Marshall needed rest. It didn't stop the well-wishers from sending him mails. Nor did it stop Newton from somehow managing to get a stuffed Kaiju into the room.

It had a red bow.

It looked ugly as hell and it had Herc laugh, even though it aggravated his sore side.

tbc...