Word Count: 9,697 (Total: 44,551)

Rating: T for language and some light sexual situations (all clothing stays on, but those who are squeamish about age gaps beware)

Date Submitted: 2/2/18

Chapter 5 – The Father's Memories

Herc has only ever used Chuck's login for the PPDC's cloud once, and that was strictly to empty out his son's laptop before formatting it and gifting the relatively new piece of technology to a friend's ten-year-old for school work. He never actually looked at anything, figuring he would do it one day in the future when it didn't hurt so much. Well, it's the future, but it still hurts. But Herc is curious.

Chuck always possessed an artistic bent; nothing intense, that would have driven him to follow that path professionally, but enough that he wrote a few short stories and did some idle sketches and took lots of pictures. His mother would've loved it if he'd become a photographer, though Herc isn't sure Chuck had been all that interested except as a hobby. But that might have only been because of the kaiju. With Chuck's connections and knowledge, photographing the post-war devastation might have been a good way to begin a new life—easing from the old into the new by documenting the remnants of what had been. It's not actually that hard for Herc to also imagine Chuck as a professional photographer, really.

What Herc is hoping to find is a stash of pictures or videos that will tell Chuck's side of his relationship with Jazmine. Herc doesn't doubt for a moment his son's affection for Jazmine or Jason, but he has little to go on beyond Jazmine's perspective. Chuck's drift phantom is totally silent in his head on the topic, apparently hoarding the memories somewhere beyond his reach.

Once he has access to Chuck's files, however, he draws a massive blank. Considering Jazmine's firmness and the real threat of hacking by the BuenaKai, Chuck wouldn't have made any such files easy to identify. But Herc has no idea how to even begin looking for them.

His finger hits the 'J' key twice.

Herc looks down at his hand, the keyboard, then up at the monitor and search bar where the double letter is displayed. He shrugs and presses "enter."

Apparently, Chuck didn't keep any proof of his relationship with Jazmine prior to becoming aware of her pregnancy, because that's where the pictures begin. She often looked grumpy then, even when she wasn't showing much, though there are a few where she perfectly fulfills the "glowing mother" stereotype. A short video explains exactly where the grumpiness came from.

"Smile, dumpling!" Chuck croons, obviously with the intention of irritating her. And boy, does he. Other calls for her to be happy in other videos are similar, with him identifying her as 'sickie,' 'waddles,' and 'fatty.'

He was not always so insensitive, though.

"I'm puking up my intestines and you're seriously going to film it?" Jazmine demands in a video where she lies on her side in bed, half curled into a fetal position around the small swell of her abdomen that is Jason the fetus. She's pale and sweaty and just looks generally unhealthy. "Go die in a fucking hole, dickhead."

"I'm filming your symptoms," Chuck corrects calmly as he sets what must have been his phone on the nightstand and centers her in the frame, "so that I don't forget anything when we go to the doctor."

"I'm not going to the fucking doctor," she snarls.

"Yes you are," he answers from somewhere across the room from his phone. His tone brooks no argument.

"No I'm not, because you're fucking filming this with audio, and you're too fucking stupid to remember to use an American accent, dumbfuck. You're endangering this child's very existence, and I will destroy your fucking phone if you don't delete that video. Then I'll fucking kill you."

Chuck, dressed in bright civilian clothes that are alien to Herc's eyes, steps into the frame and drapes his ranger jacket over her shoulder. He'd "lost" his first one—Herc can tell which it is because it has just two kill marks on it—years ago and gotten a replacement, and while Herc had thought it strange that Chuck would not only lose something he'd been so proud to receive but also be so ambivalent about its loss, it never actually crossed Herc's mind to question it. Chuck had lost a number of important things as a child and the jacket was easy to replace, so Herc had thought little of it. Clearly, however, it hadn't been that lost. "All right, I'll start over."

Jazmine makes a noise of protest and pushes the jacket away. "Don't. I don't want to throw up on it. And if you're going to start over, get rid of this jacket."

"They make plenty of replicas for public sale," is all Chuck counters with, though Herc knows they don't make replicas with kill stamps. He readjusts the jacket until it's only draped over her waist, then with a yawn moves to retrieve his phone and end the recording.

Still pictures show Jazmine in various stages of pregnancy wearing Chuck's ranger jacket; sometimes she's awake, sometimes she's asleep. Chuck has a lot of pictures, and more than a few videos, like that. It must have been something he found pleasing. There's a copy of the emotional video Jazmine has of Chuck holding Jason for the first time after the delivery. Then more pictures of Jazmine and Chuck's ranger jacket, only the latter is alternately being worn by Jazmine or wrapped around Jason as an extra layer.

"It's a little creepy and possessive, how much you want to see one of us in your jacket," Jazmine observes during a video involving the jacket in question. In that one, the jacket is being used as a sort of hammock for Jason, who's gurgling softly.

"It satisfies my inner caveman," Chuck tells her cheerfully. "It's my woman and my baby. My jacket marks my territory even when I'm not around."

"I don't wear your jacket in public."

"More's the pity," Chuck sighs.

"Nor am I a tree to be pissed on."

"Oh, give me a break. Like you wouldn't trumpet to the world that you'd had my baby if you thought no harm would come of it."

"What, and have every catty bitch on the planet hunt me down for getting you first? Oh yes, how appealing a prospect. Never mind that women who have babies out of wedlock are viewed more negatively than men in the same position."

"Why must you turn everything into a tale of misogyny?"

"Because the rise of extreme feminists has made people think the idea of feminism is outdated, even though women are still denigrated in most things and allowed unnecessary privilege—for a given value of the word—in the remainder. Equality between the sexes just doesn't exist yet—not for men and certainly not for women."

"I'll have to take your word for it, seeing as I'm busy trying to save the world and all. Now, I want to make a still of the next few seconds, so I need my Duckie to smile."

Herc tilts his head.

Jazmine smiles obediently, warm and content. About two seconds later, Chuck slips into the shot and poses with them. He then turns his head and presses a loud, smacking kiss to Jazmine's cheek. She leans away from him, laughing. They flirt for a few more seconds, much to Herc's amusement, but then Jason makes a protesting noise and they stop to tend him. They determine it's nothing serious and proceed to do something that surely all new and devoted parents will do at least once—they admire their baby, touch him, and talk about and to him. The phone's microphone can't pick up more than mumbles, so what they say is lost to history unless Jazmine can remember, but something inside Herc is soothed anyway by the sight.

Chuck had been given a chance to be a father and husband—even if not in the eyes of the law, in the latter case—and he hadn't wasted the opportunity. He'd been damn good at it, too.

Jazmine seems to think so as well. Her eyes are soft and adoring as she gazes up at him. Regardless of her usual behavior, it's clear that she's comfortable around Chuck; he's her protector, her hero. She tucks herself against him, submissive and quiet, with Jason cradled securely between them, and closes her eyes. The gesture seems to be alien to Chuck, who blinks and tries to look down at her, but her head is in the way. So he rests his jaw against her head instead and focuses on a spot across the room. After a moment, he sighs and lets his eyes close too. He yawns a second later, ruining the picturesque image, but it doesn't seem to disturb Jazmine any.

Chuck's drift phantom, apparently watching with Herc, shares a wash of contentment. He would have been happy like that, with her. With them. For all the chaos and demand generally associated with having a family, Chuck had found peace with his; they had been where he could go to find normalcy amidst the insanity that had comprised half his life.

The video goes on for a few more seconds. Then Chuck's eyes open slowly, gaze still focused on some other spot in the room. His attention shifts until he's looking at the camera in a sort of "oh yeah, forgot about you" way. But the phone is too far away for him to reach, so he doesn't bother to try to shut it off. Instead, a smile pulls the corner of his mouth up, and his eyes close as slowly as they'd opened.

Happiness. It permeates the video and bubbles from Chuck's drift phantom. And for a brief moment, Herc is happy as well—happy that his son had been able to slow down and enjoy such a simple pleasure.

After that is a series of pictures, all of Chuck holding a newborn, swaddled Jason. Sometimes he's looking at the baby, sometimes he's looking at the camera. In all of them Chuck looks somewhat uncertain even though he's definitely happy—a conflict that Herc can empathize with. Most women might have been encouraged to nurture, especially when they displayed that tendency as girls, but most men as boys didn't share that typical behavior and so weren't always encouraged to behave the same way. So when it came to being a parent, it seemed that a lot more men were at a loss than women. There was a video that proved it, with Jazmine behind the camera, scolding Chuck gently about how Jason was crying because of how he was being held.

"He's not crying because he hates you, you oversensitive prick—he's crying because he can feel how tense you are and he doesn't understand why. Relax!"

"How?" Chuck snaps in response, sounding frustrated practically to the point of tears himself. "If I don't hold him tightly enough he'll roll out of my arms and fall!"

Jazmine is silent for a moment before she says, "Goddamn it, Hansen, the boy is swaddled. It is physically impossible for him to get the leverage to roll, even if he had the strength to do so—which he doesn't. He weighs about one-eighth of your damned dog's weight, so if you can hold your dog safely then you can hold your own child safely, too. RELAX."

"My child and my dog are two different things!"

"That's sweet of you, but not helpful. Sit on the couch if it will help." Chuck does so, and Jazmine uses one hand at a time to apply pressure to his hunched shoulders until they drop. "Now let your hands rest in your lap while you lean back . . . Don't hunch your shoulders! . . . Lift him higher now, closer to your chest— Shoulders." Finally, Chuck is in what's approximately the typical baby-holding position. "Good," Jazmine concludes. "Now stop looking at him like you're afraid of him. It's scaring him. Smile and say hello."

Chuck is hesitant, but obeys. Herc knows it really isn't that hard to smile at your own child.

Jason quickly begins to quiet, and within a minute or two he's completely silent and gazing at Chuck with big blue eyes.

"There," Jazmine says. "See? He knows exactly who you are or he'd still be crying."

That's probably oversimplifying it a little, but it has the desired effect—Chuck can't be more thrilled. With the new feedback loop established, he takes the initiative and interacts more with his son.

From behind the camera, Jazmine sighs in a way that simultaneously conveys exhaustion and exasperation and mutters, "Jesus H. Christ . . ."

More pictures after that video show Jazmine and Chuck growing with their comfort as parents while Jason grows. With Jazmine always a step or two ahead, they begin holding Jason on his back in one supportive arm, then more upright as Jason's strength increases. There are more than a few pictures of Chuck with Jason resting belly-down on his forearm, legs and arms hanging free, which Herc finds a little curious. Herc had frequently held Chuck that way during the latter's infancy because the position had made it a little harder for him to wriggle loose, fall, and get hurt if Herc got distracted by something else—and Chuck had just seemed to like the position more, in some instances—but Herc can't be sure whether Chuck did it with Jason because it's something that he picked up from the drift or a subconscious memory of the "right" way to hold a baby because that was how he'd been held. They had certainly never discussed it or interacted with many infants as jaeger pilots, so Herc can't recall any time when the memory was likely to have surfaced in him and then been passed along; infancy is such a brief span in a person's life—either as an infant or a caretaker—that the likelihood of such a memory getting passed on coincidentally seems very low to Herc.

Unless, perhaps, Chuck had "consulted" Herc's memories on the topic. Normally, it was impossible to shuffle around in someone's memories without them being aware of it, but Herc imagined there might have been opportunities when he was distracted or tired after a fight and just so focused on getting back to the shatterdome and into bed that he didn't pay attention to what Chuck was doing because he didn't feel threatened.

The next video is of the sort that Herc has never made himself, but did consider making many years ago when Chuck had still been little. The video opens on Jazmine, asleep in her bed. The bedcovers are a mess, enough so that Herc would have bet that she was either completely naked or at least topless. She remains the topic of the video for well over a minute, the camera moving around the bed to get her from different angles. Then it pans slowly around the room before moving toward the bedroom door and into the hall. Jazmine's bedroom light is turned off, leaving the unit so dark that it's obviously night out.

The camera then moves from Jazmine's bedroom to the door that Herc knows leads to Jason's bedroom. It's closed, but Chuck—obviously the cameraman—opens it and steps in. He quietly flicks on the overhead light and pans his phone's camera slowly to take in everything before stepping closer to the bassinet in the room. Inside, Jason is sleeping easily.

Something in Herc's chest swells with pride and pleasure. That's my little boy.

Such strong reactions would have alarmed him not long ago, but now he can sense something indefinably distant about them—the feeling and thought are both an echo of Chuck's at the time, not new ones that have come to Herc at random. And for that Herc cherishes them, for they connect him more vividly to a part of Chuck's life he never had the chance to experience while his son was alive.

Chuck leaves Jason, turning out the light and closing the door as he retreats, then proceeds to get footage of the other rooms. He doesn't stay long, but at the same time none is too mundane or awkward to memorialize—he even troubles himself to get a quick pan of the bathroom. He pauses in the main room, turns his head to look around given the way the image sways, then sighs and moves toward the door.

In the quiet of the unit, Jazmine's stage-whisper is like the crack of a whip. "Where do you think you're going, you inconsiderate bastard?"

Chuck jumps and spins around. "Jesus Christ!" he snarls, careful to keep his voice low so that he doesn't wake Jason. "Don't fucking sneak up on me like that, bint!"

Jazmine, who's now wearing a tee-shirt that's much too big for her, is not cowed by his aggression. "Did you think it was going to be easier on me if you just up and vanished during the night?"

"No," he snaps. "I thought it would be easier on me."

Jazmine stares, then sighs and approaches. "You soft-bellied, gentle-hearted . . . Ugh! Fuck you."

"Please do," is Chuck's witty retort.

When she gets to him, she leans against him and wraps her arms around him. It's hard to tell without a third party there, but if Herc is reading the recording right, Chuck returns her embrace. They stay like that for over a minute, just holding each other in silence. Jazmine eventually says a word, though it's muffled in Chuck's shirt or something. It sounds like 'stay.' Chuck's reply is a quiet, "I can't."

After another minute or two and a little smooching, they separate. Jazmine walks Chuck to her door, but when he tries to leave she pulls him back. They kiss some more, and the video abruptly cuts out.

When it blinks back on, Chuck is in Herc's truck in Jazmine's drive. The door of her unit is shut and all the lights are off. The place is only recognizable because of the moonlight. Chuck is silent for a long while.

"I love you, Duckie," he finally says to the house. "You look after our son. I'll be back as soon as this bomb run is done with."

About two seconds of silence follow. Chuck curses softly then, his voice and breathing suggesting that he's getting emotional, and the video ends there.

Herc doesn't judge. Though part of the RAAF for fifteen years, he was deployed only for particularly brief periods. Of the times he had been, all but two had been during Chuck's lifetime. His wife had come from a military family, though she had never joined herself, so he had—perhaps rudely—expected her to understand and accept it. And she had, with a bravado-laden, "Go kick some arse, Mister Hansen." It had been hard to say goodbye, but her attitude had done enough to convince him that she trusted him to return safe and that she'd be fine while he was gone. It had been different with Chuck, however.

That wasn't to say that Chuck had been clingy and full of tears; rather, it'd been the opposite. Herc's first two deployments after Chuck was born had seen him leaving behind a barely crawling, onesie-clad ankle-biter, and the knowledge that there was no way for little Chip to understand what was happening had been heartbreaking. Worse, that there would be no memory of Herc if he died so early in his son's life. The other three times, Chuck had been old enough to understand at least that Herc was leaving home for a long time, if not also that he might not come back, and on those occasions it had been even more heartbreaking to kneel down and look into his own blue eyes and say, "You look after your mum until I get home, all right?" and watch that little chin wobble in the fight to seem like a man.

So Herc knows what it's like to leave one's home and family. He knows there's nothing good about it, nothing easy about it, no way to be comfortable with it. Home is where the heart is, as the saying goes, and leaving his heart behind isn't so easy for any decent man to do.

Chuck's drift phantom is small in Herc's mind, silent and mournful. If he had known he'd never come back from the Breach, he would have done things differently. Stayed longer, said more.

Herc knows where that spiral of thought leads, having been at the bedsides of dying brothers-in-arms. "It's never enough," he says aloud, though his attention is on his son's drift phantom. His voice is unsteady. "Even if you had known, you couldn't have ever spent enough time with them to make up for everything you'll miss now. But I'll be there," he promises, with a little more strength. "I never put things right between us—no matter what you said—and now I'll never be able to, but I can at least do this. I wasn't there for you, but I can be there for him."

For them—Jason and Jazmine and the baby. Even if Jazmine would have been fine on her own, she needs help with Jason. Herc doesn't doubt any woman's ability to raise a son to be a good man any more than he doubts any man's ability to raise a daughter to be a good woman, but the circumstances aren't so extenuating that she has to do it. Herc can—will—be there to take that burden on. That's what family does.

His conviction soothes Chuck's drift phantom. It unfurls a little and comes forward, and draws his attention to a folder labeled simply 'New Folder.' It had never been named, so Herc had initially ignored it. But now he clicks it open and finds a single video file.

'Dad'

Herc doesn't want to open it. It's been one thing to watch videos where Chuck is focused on other people, behaving unusually enough that Herc can immerse himself in a side of his son he's never met and put aside the fact that Chuck is dead. But a file addressed to him can't possibly mean anything good, if only in the context of Herc's heart and remaining sanity.

Perhaps nudged by Chuck's drift phantom, Herc clicks the file open anyway.

It opens on Chuck, with an infant Jason just peeking over the edge of what Herc is pretty sure is Jazmine's computer desk. The background, however, suggests Jazmine has moved her desk since the video was done, because all Herc can see is a wall, not the peninsula and kitchen that had been visible during his own chat with Raleigh.

Chuck sighs. "Well, Da, I guess it's safe to say that either I'm dead or we got into a huge blue about this and I was too angry to be as eloquent as I needed. But you have to understand. Especially if I'm gone." Jason begins to fuss and squirm. Without looking down—but with a smile that does instead—Chuck shifts and begins to bounce his left leg. The gesture is heartachingly parental in its absentmindedness, proof inarguable that Chuck both accepted and adapted to his role. Thus entertained, Jason soon quiets.

Chuck becomes solemn again as he refocuses on the camera. Softly, he entreats, "I need you to understand, Da. Please try. Please."

"I'm listening," Herc murmurs.

Chuck takes a breath and looks at the keyboard in front of him. "I didn't mean for this to happen—Jazmine and Jason. I did meet Jazmine after we had an argument, but I wasn't thinking I had to get you back."

The idea has, truly, never crossed Herc's mind. Indiscretion, yes, but never revenge. Except through shouts of impatience, Chuck did not drag innocent parties into his furies.

Chuck closes his eyes, goes still, and lets his head lower slightly. It's almost a gesture of submission. If nothing else, it's a gesture of peacefulness. "Jazmine and I . . ." He stops, straightens, opens his eyes, and resumes bouncing Jason. "I'm sure you're wondering if we really love each other. I can't tell you for certain—she and I have talked about it, but we can't pin our feelings down. I can't speak for her, but when I'm with her . . ." He blinks slowly. ". . . Everything is all right when I'm with her, Da. It's a lot like we're drifting, only we aren't that connected that we know each other's thoughts. But it feels like we're close and . . . and calm. We barely say a word to each other sometimes, and neither of us has told the other much about our family or background, but I don't feel as though anything's missing between us. Maybe that's a bad thing, but . . . I'd tell her if she asked, and I'm sure she'd tell me if I asked. We just don't."

Herc withholds judgment. Love manifests differently for different people. That Chuck and Jazmine were 'unable to pin their feelings down' tells him simply that they did love each other, but that both had come from environments sterilized of anything romantic. It makes sense to him as far as Chuck is concerned, but makes him wonder how twisted Jazmine's childhood had been.

"Jason is . . . At this point I have no choice but to believe he was supposed to happen. I didn't want to have children. You and I talked about it, and everything you said was right, and I still agree even now. This world is no place for kids when it's such a mess and could end tomorrow, for all we know. I feel bad about bringing Jason into it, with no guarantee of anything." Chuck shakes his head a little. "I feel like I've let him down already, because it's a father's job to give his children every chance he can. But I don't regret him. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. Not now, not ever. I hope that makes sense."

Oh, it makes plenty of sense—just who the hell had the kid thought he was talking to? Herc is intimately familiar with that combined pride and shame; pride in his son's mere existence, at this amazing creature for which he's half responsible, and shame that he couldn't foresee the future, hadn't known what was going to happen and planned better. There are so many parts of Chuck's life that he regrets, but at no point has he ever regretted his son's presence. Even when Chuck was at his worst, Herc would have fetched him the stars if he said he wanted them. It was Herc's curse that the one thing Chuck had wanted then—his mother—was something that Herc had neither the strength nor knowledge to provide.

Chuck chokes softly and cuddles Jason as though the boy is a stuffed toy. Jason blinks. Chuck closes his eyes and squeezes the baby. "Oh, Da, I thought I knew what it was like to be a father. We drift and . . . I feel what you feel. But then Jason was born, and what I feel for him isn't more or less, just different. And so strong. I realized no one can ever replace him. Or you."

"Or you," Herc whispers, unable to trust his voice.

Chuck eases his grip on Jason, who has taken the adoring abuse like a champ. He sniffles and looks once more at Herc. "Da," he says, voice calm and quiet again, "while she was pregnant I asked Jazmine to let me name the baby if it turned out to be a boy. I wanted to name him after you, but I remembered what you said about getting bullied in school, so I picked a name that fared better historically."

Herc frowns slightly, puzzled. He remembers that Jason is Jason Scott, so there's an undeniable connection to his brother, but he's unable figure out how Jason could be named for him. In a flash, however, he makes the link: Like Hercules, Jason is a heroic character from Greek mythology, and they even have similar stories—respectively, the golden apples of the Hesperides and the golden fleece.

Humility makes something thick lodge in Herc's throat.

"You've been a good dad," Chuck goes on. "The best I could have asked for. I'm seeing all that now. Or, I . . . I guess I've seen it ever since the drift, but I'm understanding now. Even when I didn't think you were—even when I didn't deserve it—you were always there for me. All I would've had to do was say something."

"You were only a boy," Herc protests, guilt coiling in his gut. "You shouldn't have had to ask. It wasn't something you had the experience to know. It was my responsibility, and I—"

"You were afraid of suffocating me," Chuck says, surprising Herc with his accuracy. "You worried about me but didn't want to overwhelm me and make me retreat just so I could have time to myself. I didn't . . ." He shakes his head. "Before, I didn't grasp what that meant. But . . ." He glances down at his son's blond head.

"Jason's trying to walk," he explains as he looks again at Herc. "He leans on things for support and then stands on his own, but then he'll overbalance and fall, and sometimes he cries, and . . ." Chuck's eyes grow glassy. "Da, I just want to pick him up and tell him it'll be all right and give him my legs if it'll help, but Jazmine won't let me. She says we learn from our mistakes, so he has to fail and fall and get back up on his own or he'll never get it right. But I don't . . . care about that. I want him to be happy now. But . . . if I do that, am I really helping him?"

Fatherhood changed Chuck so much. Herc can't comprehend how he's never seen it before this moment. Apparently, Chuck missed his calling as the world's best actor.

"And that's what you've always done for me," Chuck says. "You let me fall and wait for me to get up on my own because I have to learn to look after myself—especially when I put my arse in the fire. It's hard. I know that now. But if I ever need a hand up you're always there. Always. I know you are. And I want . . . I want to be that sort of father too."

"God forbid," Herc says, and ignores the mild irritation that rolls from Chuck's drift phantom.

On the screen, Chuck makes the sort of face that is a visual echo of the drift phantom's annoyance, as though it's transferring through time and space. And hell, maybe it is—it's not like J-science ever learned everything about drifting. "I'm not saying that you were perfect, old man," he snorts. Then he calms. "But you did the best you could. And even when you failed, you kept trying. Nothing I threw at you ever made you quit, even though I'm sure you wanted to sometimes. I want to be that kind of person, too—man, father, all of it."

Herc is somewhat baffled. From infancy, Chuck had been the quintessential go-getter, letting nothing stop him. Herc found it hard to believe that his son had needed some kind of guidance in that arena, of all of them.

"Well, that was sappy as hell," Jazmine's voice interjects from off camera.

The tableau is broken and the moment ruined, but Herc isn't terribly upset. He's only missing Chuck more and hurting more as the video goes on, and if he can at least reduce the severity of the feelings that's something.

Chuck glares to some location where she's presumably standing. "Shut it, cunt."

"Now there's an ironclad argument."

Chuck responds with an obscene gesture.

"You know, Americans say the same thing with less effort," Jazmine replies. "Like so."

Chuck isn't impressed. "Americans don't own that anymore."

"And you'd know all about that, I suppose, seeing as Australia stole the majority of her vocabulary from the UK and America anyway."

Chuck just about lunges for that bait. "You stupid seppo bitch, I'll—"

"Show your dad how talented you are at domestic abuse? Oh, by all means . . ."

Chuck stops, then points at her. "Rack off, bint. I'm trying to be serious." His gaze follows her presumed retreat, and then he shoots the camera an exasperated look. "How," he hisses as he rolls the computer chair close to the desk, "can I love her this much when she pisses me off so easily?"

Herc almost laughs. He learned long ago that being in love with someone didn't protect a man against any irritations caused by that person.

"Because I'm not afraid to remind you that you're a hot, sexy stud on top of being an asshole," Jazmine calls from another room. "I make you want it."

To the camera, Chuck says in an even softer voice, "That is the part that pisses me off the most."

If she hears, Jazmine doesn't comment. "Gummy worms for my boys?"

"Thank you," Chuck answers immediately, which is no surprise to Herc. He's well aware of his son's love for sour gummy worms.

Well aware.

"Yef pwee!" Jason chirps, cementing—again—Herc's fondness for him.

"I want you to remember this moment well," Jazmine announces, apparently to Chuck, "in case you ever feel you have reason to question the source of the other half of his genes."

"You mean your half?" Chuck shoots back.

"I said source, not quality. The fact that I was pregnant and gave birth right in front of you conveniently proves the 'source' part."

Chuck yawns abruptly, which cuts off any response he might have intended to give.

Jazmine must have been looking at him, because she says, "You should go back to bed."

Chuck lifts one hand and rubs his corresponding eye. "I can't, though."

Jazmine doesn't argue. A few seconds later, her lean arms set two small plates—each with a tiny pile of gummy worms on it—between the camera and Chuck and Jason. Jason reaches for the nearest plate, which holds regular gummy worms. He grabs three of them, which for him constitutes a handful, and immediately begins to put them in his mouth.

"Whoa there!" Chuck intercepts the move, taking Jason's hand in his own with familiarity and gentleness. "Just a minute, mate. You can't eat all those like that." Jason looks back at him with a child's standard blank-faced expression and lets the worms go.

Certain he has them, Chuck shifts them out of kiddie reach as he looks toward the kitchen. "Jazmine, why didn't you cut these up?"

"They don't need to be cut up, Chuck. They're soft."

"And long!" he protests. "He could choke on them!"

"He has teeth now, you know, Chuck. He can chew. Just give them to him one at a time and keep an eye on him. That's what I do."

Chuck's jaw drops in alarm.

It occurs to Herc at this point that Chuck is so involved in his family he's completely forgotten about his explanation—at the moment, he's just living. Herc continues to watch, fascinated by a part of his son's life that he had somehow missed for nearly three years.

"I'm not dirtying a knife because you're overprotective, Chuck," Jazmine informs him. "If it bothers you so much, bite them into halves or quarters or whatever will make you feel good about yourself."

"Bite them?!"

Herc feels a grin pull at his mouth as Jason gives up waiting for the plain worms to be returned and reaches for the sour ones next. Chuck's attention is too far away for him to notice and interfere.

"Chuck, you eat after him. You might as well eat before him, too. I know he'd be thrilled; babies like to eat what their parents eat. It's instinct, so that they learn what's good and safe. That's why I haven't bothered to buy him baby food and why we all drink puréed solids instead of eating them."

"But giving him whole gummy worms—"

"While you're berating me, Superdad, he's eating your sours."

Herc almost laughs.

Chuck's head snaps down to Jason, who has just stuck sour gummy worm number two in his mouth. Chuck is horrified, but doesn't seem to know what to do. Thus uninhibited, Jason chews once, and that's when the sourness really hits his tongue. He stiffens and his face contorts until it fades, he chews a little more, and then repeats the process until the worm is safely swallowed. Hesitantly, Chuck gives Jason one of the regular gummies and watches the baby chew contentedly while gazing up at him. When the world fails to end, Chuck relaxes and gives up arguing.

Jazmine steps into the range of the camera, sets a glass of milk on a coaster, and wraps her arms around Chuck's head and shoulders. Not fond of touch from strangers, his willingness to be drawn against her and held says volumes about his regard for her. She presses a kiss to his head, and his eyes close.

"No matter how I may argue," she murmurs, "know that your caution speaks well of you. You are a good father, and the only reason I can argue is because I spend so much time with him. Okay?"

Chuck nods into her breast and relaxes further.

Jazmine frees one hand to deftly pry sour gummy worm number five from Jason's hand. "Leave some for Daddy, brat." She drops the worm back on the plate and pushes the whole thing out of his reach. Jason observes, studies, then determines that he can't get to it and goes after the plate of plain worms.

"Je t'ador," she purrs, and strokes her hand over Chuck's head. "Toujours."

Chuck hums.

"You don't even know what that means," she snorts.

"I know it's something good," he replies. "It sounds like something good."

Jazmine croons something else at him and runs her fingers through his hair.

Chuck gives her a bit of a side eye, though he doesn't try to get away from her. "You just said you were going to kill me, didn't you?"

She laughs and pulls away. "I said your haircut was cute. But I'm glad to know I inspire caution in you—have to keep your sleepy ass on its toes."

Chuck watches her go, his expression not really besotted in any way, but mild and even peaceful. He's truly comfortable around her. Trusts her. After a bit he looks down at Jason, who's finishing off the last of the regular gummy worms. Father and son have a moment, with Chuck using his sleeve—and giving a gentle admonition about messy eating—to wipe Jason's mouth while Jason watches him attentively.

With that done, Chuck reaches for the sour gummy worms and helps himself to a few. When Jason reaches for one, Chuck looks down at him, cocks his head, and then in what to Herc is an atypical show of selflessness hands the treat to the baby. They share the remainder of the gummies and the glass of milk, and when it's all gone Chuck wipes Jason's mouth again. He then hugs the boy gently, his expression pensive as he stares at the space beneath the desk. After a moment, Chuck turns his head a little and tucks it out of sight behind Jason's. He says something, and it's very hard to make out, but Herc would swear it's, "I love you."

When he draws back, Chuck smiles at his son and says a little louder, "You and your mummy are the best things that ever happened to me."

"You're welcome," Jazmine replies from the kitchen.

Chuck rolls his eyes, but doesn't snap at her. He does, however, lower his voice a bit and say, "And I hope that you and I are the best things that ever happened to Mummy."

Jazmine, if she heard, doesn't respond to that, instead announcing, "Lunch is ready."

"Fuck yeah," Chuck answers, and starts to get to his feet, Jason pinned against his abdomen by one hand—a far cry from his nervousness during Jason's infancy—only to pause and look back at the computer. Finally, he's remembered that he was recording a message to Herc. ". . . Bloody oath," he says mildly.

"Stop teaching your child bad language," Jazmine admonishes.

Chuck snorts as he reaches for the computer mouse with his free hand. "You're no less profane than I am, bint." Then he looks at the computer, through time and space into Herc's eyes, and mouths three words.

The video ends.

Herc's vision grows foggy with tears. He closes his eyes, ignoring how the displaced moisture falls away.

"I'm happy, Da."

Herc wishes he can be happy, too, but . . . "It should have been me."

Chuck's drift phantom doesn't exactly argue, though it's definitely paying attention, definitely hears, and is definitely annoyed. Shit happens, and no matter how much Chuck might have wanted to be there, the only important part is that one of them is there for Jazmine and especially Jason. And the baby. The baby Chuck never knew existed before he died.

Herc sighs, takes a moment to collect himself, then clicks out of the folder. Almost immediately, he spots another tucked between two image files that was totally skipped over when he clicked 'Next' in the image-viewing program. He opens it, and again finds just a single video file hidden inside. He knows he shouldn't—the video isn't addressed to him. But he's curious, and Chuck's drift phantom isn't even implying he shouldn't look, let alone actively attempting to stop him.

Unlike the video for him, this video was obviously filmed in a shatterdome. Considering how dark it is in the background, Herc assumes it's Hong Kong—Sydney was much better lit. Chuck is there, looking decades older than he had in the previous video even though a maximum of three years have passed; he sighs and rubs his face as though to wake himself up.

"Jason," he says, then hesitates, ". . . it's probably cliché to say it, but if you're watching this then I'm . . ." He hesitates again, then frowns a little. "If I'm not there, then I'm dead. You need to know that. I don't know what you might think or what anyone else might tell you about why I'm not there, but I'm telling you that I'm not there because something isn't letting me be there. I love you, and I love your mum, and I wouldn't want to be anywhere you two weren't. The two of you . . . The two of you are the most important people in my life. And if it weren't for the kaiju, I'd be with you right now.

"Fighting them isn't something just anyone can do," he explains, "so it's not just a matter of giving up and letting someone else do it. I was doing this long before I met your mum, and quitting isn't an option. If things go the way they should, you'll never understand what I mean. If that's the case, please trust that I did what I did to protect you and her."

He takes a breath. "Before I met your mum, when I was fighting the kaiju, I . . . didn't care. I just didn't care what happened to me. I didn't even care what happened to the planet. All I wanted to do was fight, because your granddad was hurting and I was hurting, and fighting . . . wasn't the right way to go about handling it, but it was the fastest answer. I didn't have anything to fight for." He smiles. "Not until I met your mum.

"Even with her, at first, it didn't matter—she was just kind of interesting. A way to pass the time between fights. But she really began to distract me and give me something to look forward to. And . . ."

He sighs, definitely completely besotted by this point. Herc nearly laughs at how ridiculous his son sounds, knowing full well he'd been in the same place once upon a time.

"Jay, I love your mum. I don't know if that's even the most accurate word, but it's the only word I know of. Other than you, she's my world. It'd kill me if anything happened to either of you. And that's why I'm still fighting, even though I'd rather be with you two. I can't do anything about disease, or car accidents, or collapsing buildings, but I can fight kaiju. And if that can help you two live just a day longer, it's worth it. Right now, I want to give you a hug and give your mum a kiss. We've never been so far apart for so long before, and it . . . it's killing me. But I have to do this. I have to do everything I can to protect you.

"So whatever might be happening in your life right now, Jay—whatever some ignorant cunt might say to you about you or your mum or me just because there's no man in your lives—just know that I'd be there if I could. Heaven would be hell without you two."

He seems like he's about to stop the recording when a thought occurs to him. "Oh . . ." He focuses on the camera again. "I just . . . I don't know how things are going to turn out after this mission. It's huge, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared. A lot rests on it. And a lot has changed because your granddad just got hurt. I've never jockeyed with anyone else, so I don't know how this drop with the marshal is going to go. And if my mission fails, there's every chance my old man'll be dead too, by the time you see this. I couldn't tell you how, but he's been a soldier all his life, and I know he'd die on his feet with a gun in his hands. He's too fucking stubborn to just give up and die the way most other people would, though if I'm gone I'd say he has every right.

"What I'm saying is that if I'm dead but my mission succeeded and the kaiju are gone, he's probably still alive. Maybe not in the best shape, but alive. Look for him. Tell him who you are. I reckon your mum already has some plans, but you should have your own. Just understand that I never got the guts to tell him about you and your mum, so should you find him he'll be sceptical. For your safety I'm not on your birth certificate, but I'm sure that a blood test or something will prove you right, and once he's sure I know he'll always be there for you the way he was always there for me.

"Now write down what I'm about to tell you. It should help you track him."

Chuck reels off a list of information about Herc, mostly things that would be considered public knowledge that can still be used for tracking purposes—full name, birthdate, parents' names and birthdates, brother's name and birthdate, wife's name and birthdate, locations he'd lived at, education, dates he'd entered and left the RAAF, and so on. Chuck concludes by saying, "God forbid you find anything, but don't forget to check death records, all right? You should have access to those as well. Probably check there first—no point in devoting too much energy to the search if he's dead."

He then sits for a moment, considering the camera. Finally, he says, "I . . . guess that's all. Look after your mum for me, and don't let your granddad be a guilt-ridden old fuck—he'll do it if you let him get away with it. And know that, no matter what, I love you. Have ever since I first laid eyes on you, though I was scared as hell because I didn't know if I could be the father you deserved. Just . . . Just do the best you can and don't hurt others for your own sake, and I'll always be proud of you."

The video ends. Heart heavier than ever, Herc closes out the file and scans for anything else he missed. He spots a third folder, and when he clicks it open finds a file addressed to Jazmine. Herc isn't terribly curious about its contents, because he already knows the sorts of things a man says to the woman he loves when they're apart. So he pokes around the table instead, unearths a flash drive, and copies both Jazmine's file and Jason's onto it. When the task is done, he logs out of the PPDC's cloud and places the drive gently in his duffel for the trip home.

For perhaps the first time ever, Herc is actually glad to be going back to the little duplex. It may not be the home on the RAAF base he lived in for half his life, but it's his home and it's right next his grandson's, and that's good enough. After a minute or so Jazmine pokes her head out from next door and asks if he needs help carrying anything in, but he waves her away.

"We're having a late lunch," she tells him, "so if you haven't eaten yet feel free to join us." She pauses, then says, "Actually, join us even if you have eaten. Okay?"

"Will do," he promises, and heads for his own door.

It's obvious Jazmine was in there, because before he left Herc made sure to turn the thermostat up to save money in the summer heat, but instead of being unpleasantly hot the house is tolerably warm, as though she'd been by around breakfast to turn the thermostat down a few degrees. If necessary, Herc can pull his shirt off and park himself in front of the television with a cold beer and he'll be fine.

If there is beer.

Herc checks the refrigerator, which he unplugged before going to the shatterdome. It's running, but warm and empty inside. He shrugs and goes to put his duffels in his bedroom, figuring he can mooch some lemonade or something from Jazmine. Or wine, if he has to have something fermented.

He takes 'the back way' to Jazmine's unit and lets himself in. Jason notices him immediately and squeals a greeting that Herc can't help smiling at.

Jazmine chuckles from her place by the sink. "He may not know who you are to him, but he loves you all the same. Hungry?"

"Starved," Herc responds, and proceeds to lift Jason from the high chair so that they can keep each other company. He gives Chuck's affection an outlet, cuddling the toddler just a little tighter than necessary; he's going to have to love Jason for both of them. My son . . . My boy . . . "But you did know, didn't you, Jay? Your mummy didn't know, and your ol' granddad didn't know, but you did."

"He is oddly attached to you, for being a veritable stranger," Jazmine concedes as she brings two plates of sandwiches and chips to the table.

Herc doesn't mean to be so abrupt, but a fond impression from Chuck's drift phantom causes him to blurt something he remembers hearing in the videos he watched. "'Duckie'?"

She blinks, then tilts her head. "What about it?"

He places Jason back into the high chair and secures him, then sits at the table. He gives the toddler a grin and a tickle, then turns to her again. "Chuck had pictures and videos on his laptop. I put them in the PPDC's cloud before I gave it away. It's some kind of nickname?" It's strange because Chuck didn't give things nicknames. Herc doesn't either. Not that sort of cutesy nickname, at least.

She sighs. "He got me a stuffed bunny one time, without realizing what sort of meaning it would have for me. I was very touched by the gesture, so I started calling him Jeannot—'Bunny.' He thought it was stupid but I refused to stop, so he decided to get me back." She shrugs. "Both stuck."

That figures. Herc snorts and looks at his lunch. "This looks amazing."

Jazmine wrinkles her nose. "It's a sandwich. Institutional food doesn't do it for you?"

He's eaten it practically all his life and is entirely used to it, but . . . "Not by a mile."

Herc consumes his sandwich and chips in record time, but lingers over his lemonade as his grandson and sort-of daughter-in-law eat. Tentatively, in the latter's case.

"The bub treating you right?" he asks, noticing suddenly that Jazmine is a little pale.

"About an hour ago I was bashed in the stomach," she explains. "I still haven't recovered." She smiles a bit wanly and sets her sandwich aside. "I'll be better in a bit, don't worry. Jason kicked me like this too and I survived. In the meantime, tell me how your side is. I meant to turn the air conditioning on last night but forgot, so I did it this morning instead. And plugged your refrigerator back in."

Herc thinks about that for the first time and is mildly horrified. "You shouldn't be pushing around kitchen appliances while you're pregnant."

Jazmine leans on the table and gives him a flat look. "I change my own oil while pregnant, too. Is that also a problem in your mind?"

"Well, no one should be getting oil in their skin, but it's not on the same scale as moving appliances."

"Anyway, how's your side?"

Clearly, that discussion is going to go nowhere. So Herc says, "It's a bit warm, but compared to the outside it's grand. By the way, I thought I left beer in the fridge . . .?"

Jazmine makes a face. "Then unplugged the thing so your beer would get warm and gross. I rescued what was left and put it in my fridge."

Herc was more messed up than he imagined, if he unplugged the refrigerator and walked off without seeing to the beer. "You're an angel."

"Don't. I don't keep a lot in my fridge, so it has to work harder. Your beer helped maintain the temperature in there and saved me money."

Jason finishes his sandwich and chips, so Herc lays claim to him. "You eat," he tells Jazmine. "Jay and I'll keep each other company."

Jazmine sighs at her plate but doesn't argue. Herc gets Jason's face and hands clean of sandwich bits and child slobber, then goes to the toddler's room, where the two play for a couple of hours before Jason starts yawning and behaving crankily. So Herc puts him down for a nap, stays until Jason drops off, then leaves quietly.

He finds Jazmine in her room. She's napping too, quite soundly. He studies her for a minute to make sure she isn't experiencing labor pains or something and just hasn't realized it, but she appears fine. He gets a strong Chuck-urge to caress her shoulder, but an equally strong Chuck-warning argues that Jazmine is not a creature to be handled casually when she's in such a vulnerable state unless the person touching her was already present when she entered that state.

So Herc errs on the side of caution and exits the room without bothering her. He retrieves a beer from the fridge and settles on the couch with it. It's slightly flat, but consumable. He lets Chuck's drift phantom have a little more rein and deals with the consequential disorientation of being what most people would identify as "Chuck in Herc's body," even though Herc is still fully aware and has ultimate control of his body.

First and foremost, Chuck's drift phantom apparently doesn't like Herc's choice in beer.

"Tough titty, kiddo," Herc murmurs in response, and keeps drinking.

Chuck's drift phantom digs up other shared-but-buried memories that Herc had 'inherited' from his son but never paid attention to. There really aren't many about Jazmine or Jason or both—Chuck was in the shatterdome a lot, but when he wasn't and was with them he still slept most of the time. It wasn't until his first year as Striker's copilot was coming to an end that his overwhelming need to sleep began to fade, and it was only another year and a half or so before he and Herc were in Hong Kong. Fantasies are much more common, and those are somewhat . . . explicit . . . at points; the remainder are generic, inspired largely by movie-style precepts. But throughout is a deep longing to be with his 'wife' and child, and when he is with them, he's content.

"You should've said something," Herc scolds the drift phantom, which ducks a bit. "We could've worked around it. Forget what I might've wanted or how disappointed I might've been—you could have spent more time with them. If you made any mistake about this, it was worrying about what I would think when it didn't actually matter. I know you did what you did because you didn't want to stress me, but I would've gotten over it, and right quick. Anything I might've said about the kaiju and the war would've been just an old man's muttering—what's done is done, and in a situation of this sort, the only thing to do would be to enjoy it as much as possible before the end, regardless of what that end is. I would've wanted you to be with them, whether or not I was there too."

Chuck's drift phantom doesn't argue, but it doesn't agree either. It instead seems to take in Jazmine's half of the duplex and draw comfort from memories of what's familiar.

Herc finishes his beer, sets the bottle on the coffee table, and wriggles down into the cushions. Jazmine had said the couch is a bad place to sleep, but Herc and Jason napped there with no problem, so he isn't terribly worried about the repercussions. He yawns, draws the knit blanket off the back of the couch and over his torso, and lets himself drift off to Chuck's drift phantom's quiet memories of happier times.

It's good to be home.

To Be Continued in . . . Chapter 6 – The Turns Life Takes

"The man I killed!" she replies, her voice thick with some non-English accent. Presumably French, if her mother was from France. "When they brought me in they ran my prints and everything, and someone's noticed that I'm illegal! They came to pick me up and took Jason away!"

"Why now?" It's strange that they didn't notice at the time, unless it was just shoddy police work.

She shakes her head.

Herc wishes he could hold her hand or something, but the police seem to prefer to treat her as though she's guilty of a violent crime; neither he nor Raleigh is allowed to get close. What he knows, however, is that Raleigh has no Australian citizenship and therefore won't be able to move about and get the answers Herc can.

Answers To Questions You Didn't Even Know You Wanted To Ask:

"You stupid seppo bitch, I'll—"

This is a fun one. To get to the point, a seppo/Seppo is an American. If you're interested in the word gymnastics:

'Seppo' is colloquial form of 'septic,' and 'septic' is shortened from 'septic tank.' 'Tank' rhymes with 'Yank,' which is short for 'Yankee,' which—as mentioned last chapter—is an American. Any American.

As you might imagine it's not the nicest thing to say. After all, septic tanks are full of shit, right? That said, context should always be considered, because Australians have been known to call pretty much everyone "cunt," including their best friends.

—

If you find this fic to be somewhat fine, please take the time to drop me a line!

~RN (LS)