"War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend."
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers

Nuclear weaponry had always been the last resort, the heart-stopping blow, the K.O. It had been finality in times when the clock seemed to just keep ticking, when pride stepped in front of humility, when the idea of being revered as a god bypassed humanity. It was the peace after disaster, the silence that cradled shock and now it seemed that fate had deemed it necessary to teach the human race a lesson.

That perhaps humility would have been a better option.

No one thought that the first Nuclear bomb would cause the destruction it did. No one thought humans were capable of harnessing something so powerful, so ultimate; and no one thought that it would ever fall into the hands of an enemy as powerful as the Precursors.

Stiles wondered as he sat with his back against the head board of his bed, if they had ever stumbled across a race like the humans before. If any others had put up a fight and lost- tumbled to their knees and accepted defeat. Laid down. Died. His fingertips trembled and he bit down on his bottom lip, feet shifting to pull his knees up against his chest. A paperback book was smashed between his thighs and chest, some old classic that Derek had let him borrow.

If the Precursors had their hands on nuclear technology then what exactly would that mean for Earth? For him, for his father, for Erica, for Danny, for every single person that meant anything to him? What would happen when he died? What kind of life did he leave for them? Lives hidden under ground until the Kaiju finally dug them up and snuffed them out?

Was that his future? Was that their future?

Stiles swallowed and his saliva was dry against his tongue, his throat clenched and seared, eyes burned. There was so much inside of him that wanted to embrace the fear, wanted to run, to give up, to roll over on his back and bear his belly to the Kaiju. So much of Stiles wanted nothing more than defeat so that maybe it could be over and he wouldn't have to worry about going to sleep at night with the silent prayer to whatever god he didn't believe in to promise him another early morning training session with Allison, coffee in the kitchen with Derek, a phone call from his father.

Death might be easier than the idea that one morning he might not wake up.

And Stiles had reminded himself since the meeting in the lab three days ago that what he was feeling was completely natural. "I'm not a coward," he whispered softly to himself, opening the book to shove his nose in the crease and inhale. There was something about a book- a real book, old paper, pages torn and worn with love. He could smell the ink, the dust, a little hint of Derek's cologne.

"What are you doing?" the alpha leaned against the frame of his doorway, arms folded across his chest with his head tilted to the side, "Are you smelling my book?"

"I like the smell of books," Stiles admitted through the flick of a brow and a forced smile, "I always have. Libraries, book stores, old books, new books, it's just comforting ya know? After we upgraded to tablets and then holograms it just- the smell of a book always reminds me that things used to be normal."

Derek snorted and rolled his eyes, "Normal?"

"Before K-Day," Stiles shrugged, "did we need to go train or-"

"No, not for a few hours but I was making lunch. Any preference?" the veteran always wore so many expressions at once, between calm and angry or intrigued and annoyed. His eyebrows spoke words that he chose not to speak; they pulled together or were pushed up high on his forehead. Sometimes he would grin when he was feeling playful, his tongue would dart out and wet his bottom lip or he would flex his fingers out and stretch them once, twice, sometimes three times. Derek Hale was full of tiny mannerisms, beautiful little quirks that Stiles missed during drift. It was like light that slid under the door, water seeping through the cracks.

He raised a brow as he looked to Stiles, lips twisting into something of a half-smile and the beta shook his head, "You know what I like, surprise me, man."

Derek nodded and was gone, bare feet padding against the tile as he went and Stiles was left to hug the book back into his chest and meander back into his thoughts. The thoughts that had done nothing but torture him since the meeting. The thought of Kaiju rising from the breach and coating his loved ones in radiation, exploding on the spot and sending them flying backwards, wrecking Lionheart, killing Der-

His chest heaved and Stiles gasped, his eyes squeezed shut.

No. No. No.

The back-lash was manageable but it still hurt and it still caused his lungs to cave in on themselves. Especially the ones involving Jackson and lately- due to his ridiculous obsession with death, Stiles had seen more of Derek's late co-pilot then he needed to.

Stiles could feel the warmth of afternoon sunlight blooming against his skin, could smell flowers and perfume, champagne and rose petals.

Jackson had a deep voice, smooth like velvet, and he laughed with his arm slung around Derek's shoulder.

Back-lash was like a scratch he needed to itch, a memory so blurred and condensed that it hardly made sense sometimes. Isaac had explained that it wasn't rare to experience it as more of a hazy dream than an extension of drift. It was a real memory, suppressed and hidden in a foreign mind.

"God, it feels like it was just yesterday," Jackson's hands were warm and he squeezed Derek's shoulder. Stiles could feel it and it was sore, "I can't believe I'm a married man," Whittemore continued.

The beta half expected the mutated day-dream to end in smoke and screams, to stagger itself into death and decay like it usually did. But instead Stiles felt his fingers tighten on the edges of the book, felt his legs start to cramp and sucked in a well needed breath of air.

Everyone told him that in time he would have mild control over it and be able to pull himself out of the surprises it seemed to throw his way; luckily they hadn't been wrong. As the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, Stiles had seen improvements in his own self-control and, more or less, the control of Derek's memories that lingered in his mind. Something about it still seemed so incredibly strange though, something about having someone's life smashed into his head still made him anxious.

He breathed. Inhale. Exhale. Through the nose. Out the mouth. His eyes closed and he felt his glasses slide down to settle on the tip of his nose, hands bunched up around his knees as he set his cheek down on top of their peaks. Stiles had told himself in the beginning, when it was so humid on campus that he could hardly stand it, that the program wasn't for him.

He had told Danny, himself, hell, he even told Raleigh that he wasn't cut out for this.

"You coming?" Derek tapped on the door and tilted his head to the side. Stiles hadn't even heard him walk down the hall but when he looked up there was something soft about the way his co-pilot looked at him- like maybe the alpha felt it too. Maybe he was just as lost in this as Stiles was.

They didn't eat right away because when Stiles followed him into the kitchen he stopped to wrap his arms around Derek's strong waist and set himself against the alphas back. His forehead rested between his shoulder blades where ink was settled into his skin and Stiles listened to him breathe.

Derek rumbled like a machine, growled, hummed, purred and vibrated against the beta like he was made of metal, constructed of wires and circuits and bolts. But he was warm and his skin was softer than Stiles had ever imagined it to be before they fell into whatever pool it was they had fallen into.

Sometimes Stiles thought it was the pool of tears settled around Pandora's Box, other times he thought it was just salt water and messy excuses.

Hale didn't move, he just peeked over his shoulder with one of his eyebrows raised and smirked, "What're you doing back there?"

"Do you think we'll make it out of this-" Stiles swallowed when he felt his partner tense, "I mean- me and you, us, this, whatever... Do you think we'll live through this?"

It was only quiet for a moment before Derek cleared his throat, "We have to," he mumbled, fingers reaching down to brush across the top of Stiles' hand as he played lazily with the pockets of Derek's jeans. "We're all the world's got," he added and turned, taking his time in grabbing Stiles by the waist and tugging on him, "so yes, I think we'll make it out of this. And no, I don't think we're going to die, and yes I plan on closing the breach and no, Stiles, I never expected to be doing it with you."

The sharp click of Derek's tongue almost made Stiles flinch but instead he tilted his head to the side and accepted the warm press of the ranger's mouth over his own.

They didn't talk about it after that- they ate their lunch- salad and chicken, and practiced how well they could balance against the counter top and pretended like nothing existed for a while.

"We have the resources to handle any exposure to radiation but-"

"That's not what we need to prepare for, Isaac," Lydia was thumbing through a notebook and her eyes trailed along each line as a manicured finger nail dusted over each page.

The doctor shook his head, eyes rolling, "We can't just go back down there and do what we did last time. It didn't work, Lydia. Raleigh and Mako did everything they could but-"

"Shh," her hand moved to rest on his shoulder and her eyes didn't waver from the words scribbled inside the notebook.

Isaac watched her with a kind of fondness he never knew he could muster and sighed, soft and pliant, beneath the weight of her presence. Lydia was like a tropical storm, all hot wind and humidity, rain and lightning against the sunshine. Ringlets of strawberry hair dripped over the curve of her shoulder and she shifted slightly, hiking her leg up over the other as she licked the tip of her finger and flipped to another page.

When she whispered that she was hungry Isaac offered to cook for her and she nodded. Just a nod. Silent and calm before she buried her mind back into the research settled in her lap.

There was a moment as Dr. Lahey stirred the pot of noodles and reached into the fridge that he looked up briefly and saw Lydia on his couch, her heel dangling off the edge of her foot, chin resting on her palm with her elbow against the top of her thigh. She was wearing a mauve dress and she sucked in a breath, cheeks full of air, before she sighed it out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Sometime

The silence was staggering until Lydia started humming.

Isaac smiled and realized that maybe sometime wouldn't take so long after all. The only problem was that now time wasn't something that they were privileged with anyways.

Step. Dodge. Twist. Step. Jab. Kick. Twist.

"Fuck-" Stiles hissed when his back hit the ground and Derek hovered above him with one of his wrists still twisted in his hand. The beta blinked a couple of times, lips pursed into a thin line as his co-pilot inhaled breath after breath, beads of sweat decorating his brow, "again?"

Derek nodded, hoisting him to his feet before they took a few steps back on the mat and continued to spar. This time it was Derek who fell and sucked in a gasp, wincing when Stiles' hand clenched around his throat. Jungle eyes blinked up at him and Stiles felt his heart sputter, his fingertips trembled and he bit down on the inside of his cheek. Derek's jaw clenched, eyes narrowed as he flexed underneath the beta, "Impressive," it was a growl, "but a Kaiju won't just lay there and take it-"

"Oh, is that what you're doing," Stiles scoffed, "just lying there and taking it, Derek-"

Loud footsteps echoed through the gymnasium and Raleigh's voice was full of heat when he interrupted them, "Rangers," he called, taking long strides towards the duo. Stiles sat back on his heels with his knees still bent around Derek's waist and glanced over his shoulder. Derek sat up on his elbows, head hung back to expose the length of his throat, eyes squeezed shut.

"We need you on deck. Now."

The urgency in his voice was uncommon and it sent chills down Stiles' spine that stung like ice and burned like some kind of frozen fire. He wanted to move, to rise to his feet- to the occasion, but he sat, trying to breathe, and lost his gaze somewhere between the pattern on Raleigh's leather jacket and the light behind the window of the double doors that led to the gym. His lungs were heavy, bones like lead and he couldn't seem to focus on anything except the sound of his own breath.

Then the alarms sounded and Becket lifted a finger, spinning it in a circle towards the ceiling, "On your fucking feet, rangers!"

Derek was the one that shoved Stiles forward and hoisted him to his feet, eyes like daggers wrapped in vines, lush and overgrown and completely available to get lost in- because Stiles could go for getting lost and he wouldn't mind not being found. The alarms sounded like a game he used to play, a repetitive buzz that mimicked a deep gasp, a strangled cry, a muffled roar. It sounded like a game his mother used to play with him when he was young, one of those silly board games about pretending to be a doctor. He would reach into a fake body with tiny red tweezers and try to remove organs without touching any sides of the board but of course Stiles always shook like a leaf and every time he reached for the kidneys or the heart or the liver the buzzer would sound.

That's what the alarms at Shatterdome sounded like- minus Claudia's laughter and her sweet sighs that assured Stiles of his worth even when he was too shaky to play.

"We need to go," Derek didn't speak like his mother, gentle and smooth, no, Derek sounded like thunder ripping away at his insides and he sounded like something alive.

Bile was burning his tonsils and the beta tried to nod but his head wouldn't move.

Go.

He hollered at his legs, begged his feet to just take a step but there was no reaction, just a sway as he was about to topple over, a choked inhale when he tried to take in a breath to keep himself from losing it.

The alpha gripped his shoulders, "There has been a breach, Stiles, get yourself together. Now." Derek didn't hesitate to growl out the words and grit his teeth, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed as he looked to his co-pilot who seemed more interested in standing in the gymnasium and waiting for it to end than actually getting his shit together.

But Stiles was trying. He was trying harder than he ever had to make himself move.

Because there was a mishap. A breach. An unscheduled attack. A kaiju. And it had surfaced somewhere out in the Pacific. And it was swimming its way somewhere. And it was going to kill hundreds of people.

The alarms were deafening and Stiles blinked when Derek poked him in the chest with his index finger, "With me, come on," he inhaled through his nose, coaxed Stiles with his eyes, exhaled through his mouth, "Stiles, breathe with me."

Inhale through the nose. Exhale through the mouth.

Inhale. Exhale.

When Stiles took the first step off the mat and on to the gymnasium floor it almost felt like his knees were going to buckle, like a hole might open up underneath him and just take a bite. Swallow. Drown him in earth and soot and regret. Instead, he felt cold metal against his palm as he pushed the door open, saw people walking this way and that in the hall, heard Derek quietly breathing, huffing air in and out of his mouth like it was the only thing that was keeping him steady.

Maybe it was, Stiles didn't know- and at this point it was Derek that was keeping Stiles steady and nothing else.

"Striker Eureka On Deck"

A voice echoed through the loud speaker and Stiles felt his stomach drop because this wasn't supposed to be how it felt. He wasn't supposed to feel completely dismantled; he wasn't supposed to crumble, to break, to fall. He was supposed to run to the aid of his friends who were currently suiting up, he was supposed to stride alongside Derek like nothing on this god-forsaken planet could touch him because he was a Jaeger pilot and Jaeger pilots were indestructible.

Yet, Stiles felt like nothing but a child in a room full of frantic adults.

They practically ran up the stairs to the control room and Derek shoved the door open where Chris Argent stood with Herc Hansen. Raleigh glanced up once before he gave a quick nod to Hale who worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

Stiles didn't know where she came from or that her hands would be as delicate as they were, but Mako snaked them over his shoulders and gave a delicate squeeze. "Are you ready, fox?" her words were quiet and he closed his eyes because he wasn't. Not in the slightest.

"Lionheart," Chris jerked his head towards the door, "go get 'em."

It was like a bullet had lodged itself in-between the web of his fingers. Stiles tried to feign strength, tried with all his might to look like perhaps he was ready for this. For the unexpected. For the unannounced. Mako wasn't phased by his silence when they took their leave from the control room and when they made their way into the hall and towards the stair case. Neither of them spoke until Derek pulled Stiles far too roughly into a corner that met between the two levels next to the elevator.

The alarm was still screaming its protests and Stiles was still shaking when hot lips hit his and unsteady hands clenched around his midsection. He didn't know how to kiss Derek back or how to tell him that he was terrified- but he felt himself rush forward, felt his hands try to find something, anything, to grab on to. It ended up being his partner's shoulders and he flinched when their teeth clanked together, when Derek poured himself like smoke into his lungs.

Stiles didn't open his eyes when Derek pulled away, "Look at me," the alpha instructed. Stiles did. "We're going to kill it," he spoke slowly, each word dripping off the pillow of his bottom lip like syrup, "say it."

The silence wasn't meant to happen- Stiles really did want to use his voice, he did want to respond but all he could seem to do was hold his breath.

"Say it!" Derek hissed, fingers digging into Stiles' shirt, deeper to push bruises into the flesh of his abdomen.

"We're-" Stiles cleared his throat and tilted his chin, lips parted, "gonna kill it-"

"Again," the alpha breathed against his mouth.

"We're going to kill it," Stiles exhaled through the tremor in his voice and Derek nodded before he stepped back and turned, showing his back to the beta when he walked up the stairs.

Derek made it to the top of the first flight before Stiles was tearing at his arms and crowding him back up against the nearest wall. It was brief but it was something. The press and pull, familiar hands, the taste of coffee on Derek's tongue and the smell of salt and cologne floating from his shirt- it all seemed like it was just another extension of himself. The veteran took Stiles' lip between his teeth, rolled it there when his eyes cracked open and he drew a small circle on Stiles' lower back with the tip of his index finger.

"We're going to kill it," he repeated the words and Stiles was surprised at how sure his own voice sounded. He fell into pace with Derek, long determined strides and wondered if his father was eating dinner or watching football, he wondered if Allison and Scott had tried to catch them before they were called off to battle- he thought about Danny, about Isaac and Lydia, he even thought about the twins.

Stiles didn't flinch when the doors to the drivesuit room slid open and he didn't close his eyes when they shut behind him.

It wasn't the idea of going back out onto the field, nor was it the thought of fighting a Kaiju that had Stiles' heart pounding out of rhythm, had his chest fluttering and his fingertips trembling. It was the desperation, the fight or flight, the if-ands-buts of the situation. The sudden rush. One part of him wanted to be excited, wanted to shout and grit his teeth and know that they were about to go out and do exactly what they were trained to do. Another part of him was hiding behind his black rimmed glasses, buried in a book and wishing he could crawl underneath his bed and read until it all ended. Control his breathing. Control his heart. Control anything.

That was the catch, though, Stiles wasn't in control.

He had relied far too much on the clock and its certainty, had put himself too deep in the thought that even though the world was different, perhaps time could still be told in a way that made sense. A countdown. A preparation.

"Sir, lift your arm, please," a woman tugged on the circuitry armor, lacing it up Stiles' back as they stood on the panels in the drivesuit room. It was hurried and he could feel the panic radiating off of every officer in the room, every technician.

Stiles heard a stifled 'go' and then hands were on his back and pushing him through the metal doors and onto the deck of Lionheart's head-piece. Derek was beside him, flexing his fingers back and forth as he gripped the metal bindings in front of them.

Green eyes peered over at Stiles and the beta looked back, nodding once when he leaned back and let the sting of steel spines sink into the hollow openings of his armor and brace him.

The red lights on the deck shined bright, the over-head blinked to life and Stiles tried not to hold his breath when the feminine voice woke over the loud speakers.

He almost choked on the relay fluid when it was drained from their helmets and he shuddered, anticipating, biting, clawing for the drift. Because the drift was comfortable. The drift was silence. And Derek was there.

"Neural bridge initiating in-"

It was Raleigh.

"5..."

Derek watched him carefully.

"4..."

Stiles gripped the control panel to his right.

"3..."

"We can do this," Derek's voice was firm, rough and deep like something out of a dream.

"2..."

"Y-yeah," Stiles didn't mean to shake.

"1..."

Heavy eyelids fell closed.

Left Hemisphere Initiated

There was something different about the way the fire crept up his spine and flooded into the back of skull. It was messy, uncoordinated, complete chaos. It didn't sink into the depth of his thoughts like it usually did, didn't pull at his memories and send him flying into the past. It just vibrated, burned, charred the flesh behind his eyes and Stiles barked out a yelp, "Derek!"

He realized shortly after he said the name of his co-pilot that what he was enduring was Derek. All of Derek.

The alpha was so incredibly fierce in his attack on Stiles' mind that it physically hurt, stifled the memories, hushed his cries and made it nearly impossible to push back, but he did. Stiles did push back- like a tidal wave against an erupting volcano.

Right Hemisphere Initiated

Hale growled his name and Stiles smirked when he found Derek, pulsing against him, hand outstretched and waiting in the heat. There was no hesitation. Just hot breath, the memories of body movements and the taste of Derek's mouthwash flooding across his teeth. Fragments of their lives briefly flashed by; a hum of Talia's old lullaby, the sound of Stiles' father flipping through a newspaper- then nothing but Derek's hands and Stiles' mouth and the cold chill of shower water hitting his back.

It wasn't like it normally was. They weren't fighting to get through the fog, to break apart the static, they were the fog and they had become the static.

Stiles flexed his hands and felt Derek beside him, straightening his back, curling his toes in the confines of his boots. Lionheart felt like she did the last time, all power, all force and Stiles couldn't help but smile when he opened his eyes and realized that neither of them had fallen into the under currents.

It was the first time that they had drifted- completely drifted, into one another with such fluid motions. Through the fear, the apprehension, the confusion, they had managed to push past the dislodging slam of memories and trap themselves inside the strength of their Jaeger.

Perhaps that's what had done it all along, maybe it was the lack of preparation, the raw intensity that allowed for such a beautiful drift.

"Jesus, rangers that was impressive-" Raleigh's breathy laugh caused Stiles' lips to curve upwards, "you reached 100 percent in less than thirty seconds. Now we have details for you."

The screen of the Conn-Pod flashed on and the image that filled it sent Stiles' head jerking back.

"We're calling it Kanima, Striker is on route now but we- hey, Lyd-"

"Boys!" Lydia's voice interrupted their coach and Stiles could hear her unsteadiness, "it's a category five, reptilian in nature, we're thinking it's another acid-like Kaiju which means it could potentially spit or secrete radioactive toxins so try and keep your distance."

Derek cleared his throat, "Thank you, Lydia."

"Prepare for the drop," she sounded strong but both of them knew it was a facade.

Stiles' knees almost buckled when Lionheart's helmet latched into place between her shoulders and they were rotated to face the control panel. Honeycomb eyes blinked forward through his helmet and he felt his chest constrict. Allison was pressed against the glass, her palm flexing, cheeks frosted red. Her bottom lip was shaking and Scott was there beside her, worrying his lip between his teeth. Lydia clutched the dog tags around her neck with Isaac at her side, an arm wrapped gently around her waist.

It was when Stiles saw the fear in their eyes that he felt Derek's fire.

"It's for them," the veteran mumbled, the words echoing into their shared subconscious.

Stiles set his teeth hard and nodded.

Derek was right, it was for them.

Raleigh had his hands set on the back of a chair and Mako stood with her arms crossed over her chest. The Marshalls nodded to them, Chris is in his suit and Herc in his leather jacket.

Stiles looked over to Derek.

It was for them. It was for him.

His thoughts were vocalized and he felt Derek's eyes on him.

The cables were secured, the doors of the East Wing opened and Stiles breathed- in through his nose, out through his mouth, as they descended towards the Pacific.

He didn't know if safe was a proper word to describe how it felt- suspended in the air by two helicopters as they flew over the ocean but it was something close. They were vibrating with energy, too much energy, bouncing off Lionheart's insides and listening to the echo of their thoughts hit each circuit board, clank against each bolt and screw. She felt raw, like an animal, feral and brutal and wild. It made Stiles want to rip something apart, made him want to destroy and build all at once.

It was primal- the feeling.

Derek tapped his fingers and stared out the panel of Lionheart's helmet, satiated in the silence of the drift and comfortable wrapped around Stiles' thoughts.

Sties couldn't help the pull that kept aching in his chest, the anxiety pooling like acid in his stomach. He couldn't control the shake in his left ankle or the tremble that traveled into each of his knuckles. He couldn't control anything.

"Lionheart," Boyd's voice boomed into their helmets and Stiles almost flinched, "this thing is-"

His voice cut out and Stiles felt Derek strain against the metal clamps around his boots, "Boyd!" the alpha called out but there was no response.

They heard it before they saw it.

A screech- high pitched and muffled by liquid. It was long, drawn out and rumbled off into something of a roar that had Stiles' heart beating out of his chest. It was unlike anything he had ever heard, no animal, no language, no creature made noises like that. Nothing on this planet vocalized so intensely.

"Fuck!" it was Erica and Stiles physically squirmed in the confines of his drive suit, "keep your distance, just-"

Neither of them were blinking. They just shook, battered themselves sick as they stared forward until the sight of Striker Eureka finally came into view. There was a sigh of relief, a flood of emotion that felt like warm water sliding across Stiles' thoughts. They were still standing, fists raised, wings deployed, in front of something that Stiles was sure he had seen once or twice in his nightmares.

The cables were clipped and Lionheart was dropped into the water, knees buckling against the ocean floor.

"You've taken severe damage," Derek breathed through gritted teeth as they shifted downwards, moving one foot, lifting one leg and slamming it back down until they were running to Striker's side. It felt like flight, like they were gliding through the air surrounded by steel and fury and complete unrelented anger. Stiles thought that perhaps that was exactly what it was- a vengeance, a grudge, that pushed them both forward towards hell.

"We're okay," Boyd sounded wrecked and Striker straightened their back as Lionheart appeared at their side, staring into deep waters where Kanima had disappeared. Stiles thought he had got some kind of idea of it from the angle of the helicopter. It was hunched on all fours, scales, a muddled silver in color with that disgusting turquoise blue he had learned to hate. "But we can't get a heat signature and- fuck, guys, your left-"

Stiles didn't hear the rest of Boyd's words because Derek's thoughts overwhelmed him. They turned, just in time for something- its tail, to hit them dead in the chest and send them flying backwards. It hurt. It felt like someone had cracked him in the ribcage with a bull whip and Stiles hissed as his eyes squeezed shut when the waves crashed over them. Hale barked out a curse, his mind reeling around the bickering of instincts. Stiles' subconscious said kick, Derek's said punch, but they met somewhere in the middle and ended up flinging themselves forward and grabbing the Kaiju by its back right leg.

Kanima was big. Bigger than Stiles had imagined. It squirmed, kicked, hissed like a snake but sounded like something far more feline. Its teeth were sharp, clanking together when it whipped around. Six eyes. Three on each side of its head- shined that poisonous blue. Its saliva was thick, clung to its teeth when its lips curled back and gums jutted forward, dislocating from its jaw to slam shut in front of their helmet. It had a flat face, scaled and round; its body was lean with what looked like strong shoulders curved down to a razor sharp tail that was swinging dangerously slow behind it.

"Plasma canon!" Stiles didn't know whether it was the fight in his 'fight or flight' or if that decision had been made by the both of them, but Stiles lifted Lionheart's arm and shot two rounds of blistering heat into its general direction. The rumble of disdain that came from the creature reminded Stiles that Kaiju were far more capable than he thought; he was reminded that it was a warning. A warning that suddenly made him feel incredibly small because as blue noxious acid leaked from the wound decorating the center of the disturbingly human physique of Kanima, the Kaiju didn't even flinch. It snapped its jaws once again and then Derek was shouting, eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted, when its tail came back to burry itself into their right shoulder blade.

The pain was dizzying and Stiles tried to listen, tried to find a weakness in the vocal patterns. His hand shot out to try and grab for the Kaiju who was slithering away but he missed and they went staggering backwards, Derek clutching his shoulder as he tried to steady his breathing.

Striker shot from the side, using the six barreled missile launcher that they were so well known for. The Kaiju's spine rippled, mouth dropping to expose a long beaded tongue saturated in blue fluid. Acid. Lydia had been right. It wasn't a direct hit but the Kaiju did sustain damage, even so, it flew forward, all teeth and angry claws at Striker Eureka.

"Close combat, Stiles, we have to-" Derek flinched when they stood and started running towards the clash of scales and metal yards away. Striker punched, rolled, dodged, but it didn't stop Kanima from sinking its teeth right into their side and the results were extreme. Whatever chemical the Kaiju sported in its jaws cut through the Jaeger like it was nothing, melted steel, disintegrated their defenses. "We have to use it- we have to, just trust me-"

Stiles was hesitant until he heard Erica start to scream.

Every Jaeger had a weapon that reflected its pilots in some way. Gypsy Danger had the sword, Striker, the dual blades, Lionheart- the axe.

Stiles felt it dislodge from her arm, extend and build itself out from their hands. It was heavy in their grasp, weighted by the thermal induced blades that jutted dangerously from each side of the handle. The blades were heated to cauterize the Kaiju- like every other weapon- and kept from unnecessarily spilling Kaiju blue. It was brick red with serrated blades and a knotted handle that allowed them to hold it easily, to swing it in a precise motion. Kanima was distracted by pulling Erica and Boyd's Jaeger apart piece by piece and the noise it made when their axe was buried just below its neck would haunt Stiles for weeks. It cried- screeched, clicked its tongue against the roof of its mouth and then there was nothing. Nothing except that clicking. It didn't make sense at first, not until Boyd was yelling and not until Derek's panic spiked through Stiles' mind.

"It's calling for help," Stiles swallowed, dry and hot, "Raleigh! They use Morse-" Stiles didn't finish his sentence due to the thick tentacles wrapping themselves around Lionheart's ankles and pulling them down into the waves.

It was almost like Derek expected to die.

Stiles could feel him still fighting, could feel his mind urging on, reaching for their axe, loading the mortar canons. But at the same time all the beta could see were flashes of memories, all he could hear was the muted sound of Cora- his sister, or Talia- his mother, and then his own voice and the long knobby fingers that Stiles hated about himself. The sight of his own glasses sitting on the edge of the night stand next to Derek's old book.

"Stiles!" Derek gasped and he could hear the crunch of crumbling metal, the bend and break of Lionheart underneath the grasp of an unknown Kaiju that had broken through the breach. The revolution. The broken seal. The last stand.

He thought briefly- maybe this was how it was supposed to be.

But then he remembered Derek's hands and the way they traced along the bow of his spine. He remembered his father's addiction to ice cream and whiskey- thought about his warm laugh. He reached deep for his mother, for Claudia, and for Danny and Laurie and Isaac and Lydia and Allison and Scott and-

"S-she's hurt, guys, she's- Erica," Boyd was crying. The water was clear. Rows and rows of blue eyes stared through the Conn-podd and Stiles wanted to be scared. He wanted to give up. He was exhausted and he just wanted to sleep. But this was his life. This was their fight. So he looked over to Derek who was wide-eyed, chest heaving as he lifted his arm to try and fend off the newest threat that had surfaced from the depths of the Pacific.

"Mortars," Derek rasped and Stiles nodded, closing his eyes when the two large canons fired from over their shoulders and sent the Kaiju squirming away. It was so strange, a mutation, a weak attempt at piecing together the creatures of Earth and making them into something whose sole purpose was just to destroy. Stiles wondered absently what it would be like to be born as a sentient being whose only reason to live was to exterminate.

Something was being yelled through the deck, into their helmets, but neither Derek nor Stiles had time to make out exactly what they were saying. It was probably a warning. Raleigh had probably tried to tip them off to the explosion that greeted them when they surfaced next to Striker Eurkea. To the silence that came after they hit the water several yards back. To the pain in Stiles' left side, his ribs, his knee cap, his head. But sometimes things happen too fast, sometimes things happen and all that's left is the memories wrapping around an unconscious body like a blanket.

The drift is silence.

He repeated that again and again when his eyes cracked open. It was the first time he had seen Gypsy Danger on the field and it was beautiful. "They came for us," Derek's voice was hoarse and Stiles could hear something muffling it- blood, probably. It is. The thought made Stiles squirm because Derek was hurt and he was only a few feet away but it was still too far. Too close and too far. Stiles couldn't decide which.

They were lying against a sand bar, the thick glass of the Conn-Podd was cracked and Stiles tried to focus on the sight of Gypsy Danger on the edge of the horizon but it was blurry. Everything seemed a little blurry. Unfocussed. Fake. Like perhaps this was a simulation and they would open their eyes and fall to their knees on the uncomfortable linoleum floor back at Shatterdome. But the pain- the throbbing behind his left eye, the warmth cascading down the curve of his cheek, the spark of electricity in his side told Stiles that unfortunately this was real.

Derek's labored breathing told him it was real.

"We gotta get up, Der- we gotta help them," Stiles strained to move, he tried to lift his arm to delve into the metal bindings, into the power hidden inside Lionheart. But there was nothing. Just short-circuiting electrical wires and malfunctioning hydraulics.

Stiles couldn't hear Erica. He couldn't hear Boyd. All he knew was that Derek's heart was still beating and that he didn't know how much longer he could stay awake.

"Stiles!"

It sounded like someone was shouting to him from across a football field. Like an echo suddenly fading off into the distance, a ripple of sound making its way to him from so far away. Far enough away that Stiles still didn't open his eyes and he didn't bother trying to move his arms or his legs because he didn't know if he was still locked into their Jaeger or not. He didn't know much of anything.

Waves crashing repeated like a soundtrack between each of his ear drums, accompanied by alarms and guns, canons and the sounds of the Kaiju. It was freshly watermarked on the inside of his skull and as Stiles finally willed himself to crack his eyes open he hissed and immediately shut them. He wasn't inside Lionheart which made him wildly uncomfortable but apparently squirming wasn't allowed and a strong hand came down to press his chest into the table below him. He knew that hand.

The pain wasn't expected, though. It felt like electricity coursing through his left side, winding its way through his ribcage down into the curve of his hips and ended in something of a dull burn. Heat. The drift. It was hard to speak, to open his mouth and say anything but he tried- his lips parted and his breath shook against the cold air.

It smelt so familiar. Like antiseptic and radiation. Like oxygen and panic attacks.

The hospital. It smelt like a hospital.

"She's seizing."

Isaac's voice.

Stiles' eyes did open when he heard Allison scream.

"Don't look, Stiles, no, just-" Derek never cried. Stiles had never seen Derek cry. "Look at me, please."

"Get her out of here!" Isaac's voice again and then Allison was spitting and biting and yelling. Her feet made scuffling sounds against the ground and the door shut loudly behind her when whoever was deemed with the duty of dragging her out had done so.

His head felt like it had been bashed against a rock. It throbbed, ached, and his thoughts felt swollen inside his mind.

Open your mouth. Talk.

It was all he kept saying as he tried to focus on the green of his co-pilots eyes, of his hands like rod-iron holding him down against the… steel. It was a- sore hands moved down to run across the material holding him up. A surgical table.

Another voice.

"Doctor, her heartbeat is irregular- we need-"

Isaac rambled something about so many CC's of this, so much of that.

Derek's eyes were closed and he was shaking, hovered over Stiles with blood caked over his cheek and across his hands.

"You're bleeding," Stiles croaked. His throat protested speaking but he strained to clear it.

His co-pilot shook his head and made some kind of shushing noise that irritated Stiles more than anything else.

"No-" Derek hissed but Stiles turned his head anyways.

His lungs burned. His heart hammered from beneath broken ribs.

Erica's hair was splayed over the edge of the table, her arms dangled off with an IV stuck in between the crook of her elbow. She was bloody. Bruised. Isaac and Harmony crowded around her and Stiles tried to breathe when her body twitched and convulsed.

She was dying.

Erica Reyes was dying.

Stiles didn't know if he'd said anything, but he bucked off the table with his hand outstretched because getting to her was all that mattered. He just needed to get to her.

"No, Stiles!" Derek's hand came back down over his chest and Stiles growled, digging blunt fingernails into the alphas wrist. "Stop, let them get her back!"

Let them get her back

The beta couldn't breathe. He couldn't talk. He just continued to squirm, tried to kick his feet, stretched his hand out even further- maybe if he just pushed his fingers out further.

"Doc!" Derek's voice again.

Isaac looked over his shoulder.

He only had to take a few steps to get to them, revealing the wound in Erica's abdomen. The hollow cave where the Kaiju blue had eaten away. Stiles trembled and he heard Derek choke back a sob.

The doctor wasn't careful with the needle when he shoved it beneath Stiles' ear.

Derek pulled his face into his hands, thumbs stroking across the tops of his cheeks and Stiles hated that the last thing he saw was his co-pilot's waterlogged eyes before his vision blurred.

"Boyd, take a step back," Isaac's voice started to weather and as Stiles slipped from consciousness the last thing he heard was the broken exhale of Derek trying to breathe.