Physical therapy proved to be bitching ground for Chuck and a proving ground for Raleigh. The younger of the two was still in pain, his muscles didn't cooperate and he tired easily.
It was a small miracle Raleigh didn't sock him every second sentence he spouted. It was even more of a miracle that he was always there, a quiet rock in the sea of verbal abuse.
Word of what was happening in the medical section of the Shatterdome spread quickly and no one was surprised. Some even learned a few new curses just walking past the therapy rooms. Others started bets on when Raleigh Becket would snap.
"Why don't you fuck off, Becket?!"
"Get your has-been hero ass out of here!"
"Come to see the freak show? Well, don't expect too much!"
"Go fuck up someone else's life!"
"Rub it in, will ya? Cripple to cripple!"
Raleigh just watched him, shaking his head at the stubbornness, but he had probably expected no less. But he stayed. Silent, immovable support.
x X XX xx
After a while the soul-deep anger faded from Chuck's words. After a while the words were no more.
Something inside Raleigh had finally unraveled, had become that steady, strong presence, healing along with the others.
Maybe it had been the defeat of the Kaijus.
Maybe it had been the near-death experience of detonating Gipsy Danger in another dimension.
Maybe it had simply been time and friends and support. Mako had been that friend and that support.
Herc had no doubt about what was happening between Raleigh and Chuck. He told Bond as much. James had somehow slid into the position as Herc's second, though he had never been officially appointed, nor did he really give orders. He had an open ear, let Herc run a few ideas by him, let him rant about bureaucrats, the PPDC, the United Nations, and he sat in on conference calls.
It was a role he wasn't really equipped for, but he found it entertaining.
x X XX xx
"You might be better at handling that," he remarked when he ran into Mako around dinner time
She was at her regular table, a little at the back of the mess hall, signing off the required material for Skyfall Prime's repairs, as well as what was needed to get the two Jaegers currently on their way to Hong Kong back into fighting condition.
Despite all their schedules, the endless stream of work piling up, their duties, lunch was one of the meals they usually had together. Herc would find his way here from whatever he was doing. Raleigh would drift by. Q would come in, sometimes dragging Newton or Dr. Gottlieb along. It was… nice.
Today, lunch had been Raleigh, Herc, Mako, Q and Bond, eating pasta – or what could be pasta or maybe a new form of seaweed covered in meat balls and sauce. Newton had come by late, wolfing down a sandwich, talking too fast around too much food, excited about something or other pertaining to K-science. Gottlieb had limped over with a cup of coffee and a look of disgust when he saw his colleague's manners.
"I believe Herc has who he needs in the positions he requires them." A fine smile accompanied the words.
"I believe he never read my file," Bond grunted.
"A file means words on paper. Marshall Hansen believes in knowing the person, seeing their potential, how they fight, how they live."
James regarded her silently.
Mako bowed her a head a little. "You are where you are required, James Bond. As is everyone. We need something to do in these times, between war and true peace. So we work where we are best."
And then she was gone, heading to where Skyfall was surrounded by work crews and machines.
Damn, that woman was sharp. And he liked her.
Right now there was little to do for Jaeger pilots, so every distraction chased away the boredom.
What Bond was doing now had been Herc's role to Pentecost before the Marshall had died.
Hansen was a good Marshall. He was a born fighter, a career soldier, he knew everything there was to know about the red tape, the inner workings of the PPDC, and about the rangers who piloted the Jaegers.
The perfect mix of experience and connections.
x X XX xx
So Bond found himself accompanying Herc to some of Chuck's sessions. He was very impressed by Raleigh's patience, the quiet strength and support, and after a while the bitching grew less. The temper flares evened out. The competitive edge, present even throughout physical therapy, had disappeared.
Chuck seemed to expect Raleigh to be there, drew strength from his presence, and the therapist looked almost relieved.
Progress was being made in leaps.
Sometimes, when his shields dropped, there was this raw need, plain and open in every line of his face, and James knew the feeling. He had been there, in this place, with such pain and need and the anger clouding his mind. And he had felt raw and open and turning to one man for help, even though he hated the very idea of it.
Yes, Chuck was getting there.
x X XX xx
"Took him long enough," Herc remarked over a beer. He sounded almost fond.
It was late.
The bar was well-stocked and private, and he really didn't know – or wanted to know – where most of that liquor had come from. Or had found its way here.
Bond smiled a little, spearing the olive of his Martini, shaken not stirred. It was a rare luxury, one he hardly ever indulged.
"Some need a little push. Your son needed one heck of a shove."
"He isn't there yet, but the abrasive little shit has finally met his match. And accepted that he can't surpass Raleigh, no matter what he does. Becket's a natural at Drifting and Chuck finally let that sink in."
"You and him, you were the bloody best team out there."
Herc laughed. "As long as we Drifted, yeah. I know there were marks on our files, that people were just waiting for the big fuck-up. Well, bigger than running your mouth off in Chuck's case. They kept an eye on us because parent-child team-ups are just ready to blow up in a Marshall's face."
"You made it."
"Not for the lack of trying on Chuck's part." Herc's expression softened a little. "Don't ever tell the little shithead that, but I know he's the damn best pilot out there. He was too young for the bag of crazy that was thrown at us. And if there had been anyone else, anyone at all, I wouldn't have attempted a Drift with my own son. But I did. And it worked. It was the most amazing thing."
"Until after."
It got him a rough kind of smile, full of old pain. "Until after. You can't undo what you see in a Drift. Neither of us could. Him and Raleigh, I know they could make it."
"This is more than hero worship."
Herc snorted, almost coughing up beer. "Oh hell yeah, it is! If he could, he'd let that yank fuck him into next Monday."
Bond broke out laughing. Herc just grinned that shit-eating grin.
"They'll get there soon enough."
"Hopefully before Raleigh's patience finally cracks."
"It hasn't so far and it won't. Mako is a good influence."
"The best." He raised his beer in a salute to the young woman's spirit and presence.
His relationship with Chuck was changing little by little. The near-death experience had shaken something lose that was rattling around Chuck, had him view life in a different way. James had seen aborted little moves here or there, the first steps of emotional and maybe even physical closeness between the two men.
Herc had been in the infirmary's intensive care every single minute until Chuck was out of the worst of it, holding his son's hand, and maybe even praying.
And since one of the shouting matches between Raleigh and Chuck throughout rehab had been just that topic, Chuck knew. He knew what his old man had gone through, what he had done, where he had been every single minute, and there had been that switch that had finally clicked.
It had to be seen just how far he was willing to let the change happen.
It would do both of them a world of good to accept the past and finally move on.
"You and Q still Ghosting?"
The question caught him from the left, completely unaware, and Bond blinked. He felt shields drop almost defensively.
Herc's face was neutral, his eyes intense.
James studied him, tried to find any kind of clue, then he finally released a slow breath. "Yes."
"Y'know it's unusual," the Australian told him.
"I've been told."
"Did you ever have that with anyone else?"
Like Vesper? The woman he had been ready to marry? The one he had loved and who had given her life for him?
"No."
"So it's not you. It's the two of you."
"Probably."
"Few have that. Some do and for most it fades."
James was silent. He didn't want it to fade. He didn't want to miss the gentle touch to his mind, the presence of Q so close. They weren't telepathic. They didn't share thought in real-time. Intense emotions fluctuated between them sometimes, but otherwise it was just… awareness.
"Huh," Herc muttered and took a large gulp. "So you know where he is right now?"
"Yes."
"Ever tested the range?"
"No. We don't intend to test anything," Bond said, voice sharper now.
Herc leaned back with a grin. "Touchy, Double-Oh. They're gonna study Drifting for other applications now. It's no longer just for the sole purpose of piloting a Jaeger if some people have it their way. Not sure what they wanna use it for, but who am I to judge?" he shrugged. "You two are the only living Jaeger pilots who have this intense connection. The Kaidanovskys are dead. Raleigh lost his brother a while ago and he has the brain damage to show."
"He and Yancy?"
"Rumors have it they had long Ghost-Drifts. Raleigh never mentioned it. I think he got that ripped out of him with his brother. The only ever psych eval he had mentioned that part of Yancy might have been left behind, that he has his brother's memories and lost some of his own." Herc looked serious all of a sudden. "Can't imagine what that does to a man."
Oh, they had seen it. It had nearly destroyed an excellent pilot. Pentecost had dragged him back out of the abyss, like M had kicked Bond back to life. It had been a close call for both pilots.
"No one knows what Drifting really does to a human brain. I won't go into what Newton did either. That man is craziness on a stick."
"No argument from me."
"You and Q have been in a handful of Drifts and look what happened. Who knows what will develop when you do it again."
"We will do it again."
Herc chuckled. "I know that, Bond. Just sayin'. Keep an eye on matters. You know I will. You're under my command right now."
"Yes, sir."
"Can it. I just don't need you and Q brain-damaging yourselves."
"Won't happen."
Because it felt right. It felt good and… right. It felt like his brain had been waiting for a counter-balance, someone who would stabilize what had been left of Bond after Vesper's death, who would bring him back and keep him living.
"Good," was all the Marshall said. "See that you don't."
James almost saluted, but the warning look was enough to keep him from doing it.
x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx x X XX xx
He found Q in the K-science labs, talking to Gottlieb, who was nodding, eyes sharp, attention on every word Q said. His lips were pursed in thought and the pale face reflected his concentration. When he caught sight of Bond, a frown crossed his features.
"Can I help you?" he asked, voice maybe a little more unkind than he wanted.
"Leave James in peace, Hermann," Newt called. The dark, tousled head surfaced from behind a tank filled with Kaiju parts.
The lab was sectioned into two areas. One was clearly Newt's. It was messy, probably organized so only he understood where what was, and filled with biological parts in glasses and tanks. Hermann's was neat, everything stacked, labeled and orderly. The large board was filled with mathematical formulas.
Two sides of the same brain, Bond thought, with no idea where that had come from. Creativity and logic. He almost laughed at that rather fitting analogy – especially now that the two men had been in a Drift together.
"Why don't you leave me in peace?" Gottlieb snapped. "And keep your tentacles and entrails to yourself!"
"You love my tentacles and entrails."
"It's a disgusting collection of biohazard material in a place ill-equipped to handle an outbreak!" Gottlieb replied angrily. "The last time…"
"It was only one time, Herm. One time! You make it sound like I spray toxins all over your antiquated blackboards on a regular basis!"
"There shouldn't be any toxins even close to my blackboards!"
Q rolled his eyes, a faint smile on his lips as he walked over to Bond. "What brings you down here?"
"Looking for some peace and quiet?" he joked.
"Wrong place," Newt announced, grinning widely. He was cleaning slime off his arm and didn't look even remotely disgusted.
Gottlieb did, though. He grimaced and pointedly turned to his computer.
"Don't mind him. I never do. No manners, that man."
That got Newton a glare, but it was also not too difficult to see that there wasn't really much fire behind it. The words of before, while unkind, hadn't had a really angry tone to them. It had sounded more like a repertoire, a well-known routine. The two men had shared a Drift with a Kaiju, had saved the world as much as the Jaeger pilots had, and something had stuck. Only someone who had Drift experience would notice it, though.
Bond was such a man.
From the little eddies he caught coming from Q, so did his partner.
And from Herc he knew that the two lead K-scientists hadn't fought the concept of two larger quarters, next to each other and no longer across, connected by a door. It had been created for families or pilots with children or a spouse, which had been a rare occurrence anyway. Now both scientists had a two-room place, connected to that of their colleague, with a tiny, functional, shared kitchen.
There had been no demands to reverse the living arrangements.
"Herm, play nice," Newton called.
"My name is not Herm! You were in my head, you should finally know!"
"Yep, I was in your head. Scary place." The last two words he stage-whispered to James.
Yes, something had stuck.
"Do you two still Ghost-Drift?" Bond asked, sounding casual.
Geiszler blinked, stunned into speechlessness. Gottlieb slowly turned on his seat, face a bit paler than before.
"W-what?"
"You do," Q said knowingly.
Newton glanced around, but there was no one else present and the door to the lab was closed.
"We don't actually Ghost-Drift," he finally said. "It's more of a residual echo."
Gottlieb grimaced, but he didn't correct his colleague. That echo was the definition of a Ghost-Drift.
"You can catch faint echoes, feel the other's presence, are aware where he is," Q listed.
Newton's eyes sharpened. "Yes."
"It never stops."
"I…uh… kinda… no?"
"What about the Kaiju?"
It got him a grimace. "We're not having Kaiju moments, if that's what you are getting at."
"Good god, no," Hermann muttered, sounding disgusted. He had by now abandoned his work, fingers wrapped tightly around his cane.
Bond waited. Q was a patient presence at his side.
"But the memories are still there. Like we were part of them. And we were. It was scary. Freakingly scary good." Newton laughed, sounding a little forced. "But it helps that we shared the load. Even if Hermann keeps bitching about it."
"I do not bitch!"
"See?" Newton chuckled. "Bitching. I thought it would fade, like the Ghosts. It isn't and whatever I tried, it's not giving me anything. No readings, nothing. We got these memories between us, from another dimension, from another race, and they are ours now."
James doubted the two men would ever succeed at a compatibility test, but what they had done had had nothing to do with piloting a Jaeger. It had been an unsanctioned experiment that could have killed them both. Or left them seriously brain-damaged.
What had remained was different from what pilots experienced. What had remained had been forced through an alien brain, had pushed them closer, had shown them each other, and it kept them together. Watching them now, he could almost see it, like invisible lines tethering one mind to the other, giving one an outlet from the introvert lifestyle, and the other a stability he had lacked before because of that introvert.
"We still Ghost, too," Q told them.
Newton blinked and even Gottlieb looked intrigued.
"When was the last time you Drifted?" Hermann asked sharply as he got up and limped over.
"The day we blew up the Breach."
Both K-scientists exchanged looks.
"Hot damn!" Newton breathed. "That was…! You still Ghost after months? Months, Hermann! Months!"
"I can hear him just fine, Newton," Gottlieb chastised.
"And you still…" Newton made a vague gesture, ignoring the comment. "Completely?"
"It was never less," Bond agreed.
"Telepathy?"
"No. Awareness."
"That is… cool," Newton breathed. "And… freaky, but cool. I know Aleksis and Sasha had episodes like that, especially after that eighteen-hour neural handshake. Man, that made it into the history books! It took them a month to feel less connected. I asked them for readings, but they said no. Sadly. But I got my hands on what the Russian Shatterdome archives had. Compared it to that thing between Herm and me."
"Dr. Gottlieb," came the growl.
"Be nice, Herm. Anyway. Not like us. I got our brain readings and it's probably all screwed because of the Kaiju between us. Would you be willing to let me scan you?"
Q shrugged. Bond felt his acceptance, knew that his partner would want to know as much as he could about what this continued Ghost-Drift was, and he nodded.
"Don't damage them, Newton," Hermann told him sternly.
"Oh shut up! I know what I'm doing."
"That would be the first time."
"Are you going to bring that up every damn time?"
"Yes."
Newton huffed, but there was a fondness there, a closeness. Gottlieb walked back to his seat and settled down, but the lines in his face were not harsh or angry. The expression in his eyes reflected what Newton felt.
Old married couple, James thought.
And from Q's expression it had somehow made it across.
tbc...