They locked up and got into the car, which was just as cold, and Chuck snarled uncomplimentary things about Alaskan weather under his breath. They had an overnight bag with them, just in case, as Raleigh had said. Back then Chuck had been amused about it. Now he knew why.
"Wasn't Herc stationed here for a few months?"
"A year," Chuck growled. "One year of freezing my arse off!"
"And such a nice one it still is." Raleigh grinned. "Summer's not too bad."
"One word: mosquitos!"
"And Australia's better?"
Chuck glared.
"Half the flora and most of the fauna is highly toxic or poisonous."
He death-glared. "Watchit, has-been."
Raleigh smirked and calmly, carefully and with a lot of skill navigated the roads into the downtown area.
By the time they found a hotel, the snow was ankle deep on the roads and only the main streets were cleared, though it was a lost cause, Chuck thought, following Raleigh into the hotel lobby. The snow was quickly covering everything.
They called Herc from their room, let him know where they were. His dad would be the first to mount a search party if they didn't get back to the Shatterdome and hadn't left a message with anyone.
Looking at the world outside through the hotel room window, feeling a lot warmer and more relaxed than on the whole drive here, Chuck smiled a little. Arms wrapped around him from behind and Raleigh rested his chin on the Australian's shoulder.
"Forgiven?" he asked lightly.
"What for? Insulting my home country?"
"Making it snow," Raleigh joked, pressing his lips against his neck.
Chuck snorted and turned his head, meeting the lips lightly. "You wish. It's not enough for you to be the hero of the hour? All those Jaeger groupies trying to get a piece of that fine ass not enough?"
"I can do without." Raleigh kissed his neck again. "I got you."
He turned and gave his partner a narrow-eyed look. "I'm not your groupie, Becket!"
"I heard different. You were a Gipsy Danger fan," Raleigh teased, grinning.
"Push off, has been," he growled.
Raleigh buried his fingers in Chuck's shirt and pulled him into a kiss. "Not gonna happen. You got me."
"You're still within the return window, so watch it," he muttered, giving the tempting lips a gentle bite.
"Not gonna happen," Raleigh repeated.
"You are so full of yourself!"
"Look who's talking."
The blue eyes were dancing with humor and that was all Chuck wanted. The lightness, for Raleigh to forget why they were here, what they were doing.
"Hungry?" the blond asked.
"Do I have to go outside?" he groaned, sounding almost petulant.
Raleigh chuckled. "They have a restaurant in the hotel. Or a sports bar and grill two blocks down."
Chuck groaned again. But he felt like hanging out in a bar tonight. A beer or two, Alaskan if it had to be, and a mountain of unhealthy bar food sounded just about what he needed right now.
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An hour later, eating the best damn buffalo wings he had ever tried, drinking beer that he grudgingly agreed tasted rather good, Chuck felt the snow trek through the winter wonderland had been worth it. The bar was filled to capacity due to a game.
People in team shirts intermingled with those who weren't wearing fan paraphernalia. Some weren't paying attention to the multiple screens, though they sometimes glanced at the game to check the scores. Or when loud cheers rose.
Yes, Chuck enjoyed himself, feeling warmer than in the past four hours. It might have to do with the sweater Raleigh had given him. Hand-knit and clearly a Becket sweater. Wide, slightly lumpy, washed-out and well-worn, but it was warm.
Even if ice hockey wasn't his kind of sport.
"Hockey? Really?"
"Rugby's not in season."
"In Australia it is."
"Might shock you, but this isn't Down Under."
"Shut up, Rah-leigh."
"From the man who can watch table tennis for hours."
"Fuck you. There was nothing else on but game shows and teleshopping!"
"Just enjoy the cultural highlights, Hansen."
"When you show me one, I will."
Nevertheless, it had been an enjoyable evening, he had to confess. There had been lots of cheering, loud groans about perceived fouls, and even louder complaints and opinions about incompetency regarding the trainer, the players or the referee.
It had turned into a late night with too much beer and way too much food.
And too much men on skates. Or men with brooms. Chuck had stared at Raleigh like the man had lost his marbles when the TV had been switched to curling. Curling!
Cultural highlights his ass!
He had given Raleigh a piece of his mind as they had gone back to the hotel, thankfully without new snowfall, just a ton of snow on the ground. It was still icy cold and Chuck was still freezing his Australian ass off.
"Curling," he muttered as he slipped into bed. "Geez!"
Raleigh's grin told him his complaints were tolerated, like they usually were, and the blond wasn't taking him all too seriously.
"You can't let that one go, hm?"
"No."
Raleigh was warm and so was the bed. Warmth was good. Warmth was all Chuck wanted.
"Curling is not a sport. You play it with brooms!"
"It's actually a Canadian sport."
Chuck snorted. "So what? You watched it. There was a crowd of people cheering for men with brooms on ice. Suck it up, Raleigh. It's a weird sport."
Raleigh crowded against him, head on his shoulder, one arm over Chuck's waist.
"Grows on you."
His eyes were already closed and Chuck felt the warmth again, felt a smile, soft and knowing, on his lips, and he buried his nose in the blond strands.
Yeah, maybe. Like certain blonds.
Raleigh was out like a light in minutes.
Chuck was awake a little longer, listening to the even breaths.
No nightmares tonight, he hoped.
And there weren't.
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Freshly showered and dressed, Chuck stared out into the winter wonderland that was Anchorage, a sigh escaping his lips. The snow had stopped, but there was no ignoring the thick, white blanket of coldness all over the city.
Great.
He bundled up in his jacket, scarf, hat and gloves, but he still felt like he was freezing his ass off as they left the hotel to get breakfast at a nearby restaurant. He was wearing Raleigh's knit sweater again.
Raleigh had at least put on a hat, probably his only concession to the weather outside.
"It's cold," Chuck growled, hunching his shoulders as he pushed his hands into his pockets.
"Not that cold yet," was the easy answer.
"Bloody polar bear."
Raleigh laughed, clearly amused.
Chuck hid his own smile behind the scarf.
Breakfast warmed him and with the warmth in his belly Chuck could confess that the world outside looked kind of pretty; peaceful. And Raleigh looked more at ease and happier. This was where he had grown up, where he knew every street and every corner. This was his home.
The restaurant was packed and they escaped the breakfast rush to get back to work. A few people shot them curious looks again, probably wondering where they recognized Raleigh from.
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By the end of the week, Raleigh had finalized all sales. The dirt bikes, the car, the motorhome, two old boats, a ton of power tools, sporting gear and used, but very well maintained furniture were moved from storage.
Chuck had helped log several boxes filled with books and magazines to the PPDC issue van Raleigh had been given by Marshall Gage to take whatever he wanted to keep back to the Anchorage Shatterdome.
No more old flames had appeared. No old friends had popped up. Chuck had seen a few curious faces, people trying to look inconspicuous as they hoped to catch a look of the returning hero. A bunch of kids had approached them outside the local salvage yard, shyly asking for autographs.
Raleigh had smiled brightly, almost happily, doing as asked, and so had Chuck. The kids had had several action figures and magazines with them.
"Don't auction them off," Chuck had told them, grinning when one of them had blushed. "Wait a while. Value's only going to go up."
Raleigh's laugh had been easy and light.
A little boy and girl, clearly brother and sister, had been wearing sweaters with Gipsy Danger and Striker Eureka's decals printed in them. Chuck had been only too happy to sign Striker's shirt. The girl had declared she would never wash the sweater ever again.
"I'm just glad you didn't tell them to wait with the sales till we're dead," Raleigh told his partner when the boys and girls were gone.
"Why? Think they'd hatch a plan to help that fact along?"
Raleigh elbowed him and Chuck bumped his shoulder, then they were on their way back to the storage unit again.
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The day before the last day Herc had dropped by and was helping clean out the junk that was left. The owner of the storage facility had agreed to cancel the rental contract by the end of this month. All Raleigh had to do was clear out the stuff, clean it, and sign a release form.
Herc, dressed in winter gear, wearing a PPDC issue woolen hat, gave his son a quizzical look as he threw out a bunch of spare parts no one had wanted to take off Raleigh hands.
Chuck didn't need many words to communicate to his father just how bad this was for the blond. One more day and the life of the Becket family was… over, so to speak. Aside from an uncle by the name of Charlie Becket, and who no one knew where he was, there were no more relatives. Charlie was rumored to have disappeared into some remote area a year after his nephews had become Jaeger pilots.
Chuck had talked to the many people who had come by to look at the 'garage sale' or who had made appointments to get the larger gear out of the unit.
"I remember Charlie. Nice guy. Not like his brother. Leaving your family like that. Shame," a woman had said as she had loaded her van with assorted vases, lamps and the complete kitchen utensils she had acquired. "He up and left. Said he needed some time. I think he wanted to travel."
And that was that. There had been a few mentions of where he might be, some obscure, remote places in Alaska or even the Yukon. No one knew. People could simply disappear. Nothing much about it.
"Poor boy," another woman, old enough o be Chuck's grandmother, had said with a sigh, patting Chuck's hand as he helped her with her load. "He was such a nice boy. A bit shy."
Chuck had smiled at that. Raleigh Becket. Shy. Right! He had yet to get over the image of the gangly blond his partner had been at fifteen. Raleigh had filled out nicely.
"Yancy was the big brother. He was the boy girls fell in love with. Raleigh was the little brother. You know how it is."
No, he didn't. He was an only-child.
"When their mother died, it was a tragedy. Then their dad left. Poor kids. Everyone was so proud when they made it into the Academy, when they became heroes. Yancy's death… He was so young!"
They had all been too young to die, Chuck thought. Every single one of them. Be it at twenty-six or at forty-nine. There was no right age.
"But he has you now," the old woman had proclaimed with a warm smile. "I can see he is happy. Even if he leaves his hometown. I do understand. When my Mark died I would have left if not for my family here. Raleigh has no one left here."
Chuck had watched her go, strangely touched.
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"He's gonna be okay," Herc said, leaning against the van and watching one of the men hired by the buyer drive off with the sold car and the dirt bikes on a transporter.
"Yeah."
His father gave him a look and Chuck smiled from behind his scarf. Herc had pulled the hat lower, over his ears, and added a thick scarf. Like Chuck, he wasn't happy about such temperatures.
Raleigh was a tough cookie and resilient. Chuck knew this was simply closure for him now. The worst was behind them. Raleigh would walk away from this, a chapter closed, and while Chuck suspected there would be a bit of an aftershock, he also knew that things wouldn't blow up again.
Herc nodded as if his son had just explained it to him in words. "Let's grab the last few things, lock up and get back to the Shatterdome."
"Good idea."
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It took them another three hours, two of them spent throwing away what Raleigh wasn't taking along or the buyers had wanted. When the storage unit was empty, Raleigh did a last walk-through with the owner, then closed the doors. They shook hands, Raleigh signed the release form, and suddenly everything was over.
Chuck watched the tension drain out of him as he walked away from the storage unit. Herc was already behind the wheel of the van, waiting patiently. Raleigh gave his Australian co-pilot a watery smile and Chuck didn't give a flying whatever as he pulled him into a kiss.
Herc just gave him a knowing smile when they got in and Chuck glared a little.
They drove back mostly in silence. The radio was playing the local station and Raleigh seemed almost relieved the more distance they put between themselves and Anchorage. Light snowfall accompanied them on their trip, but the roads had been cleared of the heavy snow and no ice had formed. It was a beautiful sight to behold, the landscape covered in pristine whiteness, but Chuck didn't really have eyes for it.
He reached over and interlaced his fingers with Raleigh's, ignoring a possible audience. Raleigh squeezed his hand and gave him a brief smile.
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Their helicopter was already waiting. The boxes were quickly stowed together with their bags.
Trevin and Bruce Gage shook hands with the three visitors from Hong Kong, then all climbed aboard and the helicopter took off.
Chuck watched the white landscape fall away for the last time.
Raleigh's eyes held a faraway expression.
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They arrived in Vancouver in the middle of a rain shower that threatened to drown them on the short run from the landing pad to the entrance. Snow in Anchorage, rain in Vancouver.
Fun, Chuck thought.
"Welcome back," Mallory greeted them, then turned to Herc. "Marshall Hansen."
"M."
Mallory smiled. "How's Trevin?"
"Learning by doing, so to speak. Like we all did. Bruce arrived a few days ago. I think they'll manage to get Anchorage running."
The other Marshall nodded. "I hear you are doing okay."
Herc chuckled. "Kinda. Same here, I suppose."
"Since I don't have to keep an eye on one of my most notorious pilots who never listens to orders and mostly ignored everything else, or leash my resident quartermaster before he blows up a Jaeger, I'm rather relaxed at the moment."
He laughed. Yes, his deputy Marshall had a well-known history, especially when it came to authority, but James Bond had slid seamlessly into his new position. Maybe it was Q, maybe it was because he had closed his own past and dealt with it, and maybe it was just everything that had happened to him in the past two years. The good and the bad. And Q.
Herc strongly suspected that Q had a lot to do with how balanced and evened out Bond was now. The former quartermaster of the Vancouver Shatterdome had a very pronounced and visible influence on the older pilot. Their connection was incredibly intense and the way they continued to experience such intimate Ghost Drifts was almost as surreal as Newt's close-to telepathic connection to Hermann.
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They stayed the night and met up over breakfast. Raleigh looked a lot better, no longer so tense and pale, Herc noted with a pleased smile as he ate his scrambled eggs.
He met Chuck's eyes, raising his brows minutely. How is he?
Chuck listed one corner of his mouth. Better.
Herc tilted his head just a fraction. You're taking care of him.
His son nodded once, the movement almost invisible. You know I will.
Herc smiled. Good.
The glower needed no translation and Herc smirked, biting into his buttered toast.
The silent exchange of question and reassurance passing almost everyone by.
Raleigh sat close to his co-pilot, maybe closer than he had to, but the physical proximity was something Herc had noticed developing right away between the two men. Not unlike what his own deputy had been found doing when he and Q were somewhere together.
Not anymore, he reminded himself. That relationship had stabilized and grown, but in the beginning, when James had come in from Vancouver, when Skyfall Prime had been one of the few Jaegers left and sent to help Pentecost with his plan. Those two were a tight item and so were Raleigh and Chuck, though after such emotionally disturbing days, Raleigh unconsciously sought closeness.
Whatever Chuck actively or unconsciously did, it helped. And Herc was convinced that his son was quite aware of how to help his partner.
"Flight's leaving at ten," he told the two younger men.
"We'll be there," Raleigh answered seriously.
Chuck just chewed on his toast.
"See you then." Herc rose and carried his empty tray over to the small conveyor belt that would run it into the kitchen.
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This time would be the last time.
Raleigh strapped into the seat of the military issue flight. They had seats on a cargo plane, which meant no regular passengers, just them, Herc and a fully loaded cargo hold behind them. The pilots were getting ready for take-off, the captain chatting with Herc as his co-pilot cleared them with the Shatterdome's flight control.
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Chuck dozed off after the take-off. He was out like a light by the time the plane left the coast line behind them.
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Herc glanced at his son, the ginger head resting against Raleigh's shoulder, and smiled. He looked utterly relaxed. Herc met the blue eyes over his kid's head.
Becket gave him a slow nod. Almost like a thank you.
Herc nodded back, then slid deeper into his seat and closed his eyes, too. It was time to catch some shut-eye.