"She's driven," Danny raised a brow and glanced to Stiles who sat on the other side of the sleek metal table in the cafeteria, "I mean, it's only been a few days since she pitched the idea and already we've harvested an intact Kaiju brain and-"
"Yeah," Stiles huffed a laugh, "the twins didn't seem to have a problem grabbing that for you, buddy." Deep caramel eyes rolled as he lifted a raw carrot to his lips and crunched down. The hall was almost empty, a few straggling mechanics drank coffee towards the exit and some other pilots from the neighboring hangars chatted amongst themselves.
Stiles was spent. His muscles ached, body screamed and protested anything rather strenuous- every thought went through a stream of memories before even surfacing into something useful. He curled his hand into a fist where it sat stationary in his lap and his jaw tightened when he felt it twitch against his leg. Nothing was in control anymore. Not a damn thing.
"We haven't-" Danny cleared his throat and dragged a piece of celery through a mound of peanut butter, eyes pointed down at his place, "we haven't even really talked, man... What- how are you, let's-" he sighed and Stiles felt his stomach sink when familiar dark eyes blinked under a mask of lashes, "let's talk."
His heart was pounding, lungs burnt, fingers shook and Stiles wondered if Danny was even prepared for what he had to say. To be honest Stiles didn't even know what he wanted to say in the first place because, god, there was so much. From the 'why' to the 'how', to the explanations and the tears he knew he would shed. It was all pent up and Stiles felt like a can of soda someone had shaken and left out in the sun. Everything was coming to a head. Everything was surfacing and even after all the months he'd spent at Derek's side, he still didn't know if he was ready.
And now it was his best friend he had to be ready to lose if it came down to it. His best fucking friend- one of his reasons. One of Stiles' only reasons.
A soft sigh fell from between Stiles' lips and he reached up to push his glasses up on to the bridge of his nose, "What do you wanna talk about, Dan, I mean-"
"Fuck off, Stiles," Danny groaned with a roll of his eyes, leaning back on the bench, "You know exactly what I want to talk about so come on."
Stiles felt his cheek start to heat, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he wanted to spit out more curses than anything else, really.
"You literally have no idea what you're getting yourself into," Stiles started, teeth clanking as he bit out each word, "this war, everything about it, the drift, the kaiju, it's all so... fucking romantic outside of this base but when you're inside, when," he slid his palm along the top of the table before his fingers started to tap against it, "it eats you, Danny. It fucking eats you, chews you up and it doesn't spit you out it swallows you."
Danny watched him carefully, the same expression on his face that Stiles remembered back in college, the quiet understanding, mulled over silence that wore itself like a badge of honor. The same familiar tilt of his jaw, the same curt nod. The same. The same. The same. And in a matter of hours all of that would change, with the flash of memories and- god, how could he even...?
Stiles slammed his fist down on the table and Danny jumped.
"How could you even think that drifting with a fucking Kaiju would allow you to live a normal life? God, Danny, I-"
"I'll be fine," Danny snapped weakly under his breath, "Lydia and I will both be fine-"
"I've fought for you every single day!" Stiles didn't want to cry but he could feel his eyes start to burn, wanted to wretch at the sudden dampness on his lashes, "I've been fighting so you didn't have to."
A few of the pilots from across the room had dropped into hushed whispers in an attempt to over-hear what came after the loud sound of Stiles' fist hitting the table, of his voice- broken and dripping in anger as he stood up. But there was nothing after that, nothing from Danny and nothing from the ranger who ran his fingers through his hair and turned on his heels to walk towards the door and out into the hangar.
Stiles' cheeks were blotchy and red, his eyes waterlogged and strained from lack of sleep. Everything was falling, crippling his shoulders as the weight continued to stack itself on top of him. This was a war, not a fucking lab class and Stiles could hardly bear the idea that Danny wouldn't come back from this. His own life? He had come to terms with that being on the line. Derek's life? They went hand in hand. But Danny's? Danny's life? He always pictured his best friend with a boyfriend back home, getting a job working for Microsoft and making five figures a year for the rest of his life. Raising a family. Doing everything that Stiles had sacrificed for the chance to pilot a Jaeger.
Everything that Stiles had given up for an idea that he never wanted to embrace in the first place.
Nothing seemed right. Not a fucking thing.
War.
Wrathful, meaningful, idealistic, euphoric, angry war. There wasn't anything civil about it, no rules of combat or drawing of lines. Not this time, not with the creatures that made Stiles want to erase the sickly color blue from his memories, not with the alien race that wanted to wear their lives like trophies on a belt. There was no way to swallow it that didn't make him choke, no way to understand it that allowed him to speak it fluently like all the languages he had so fondly learned. It was just war. A mess of life and death, resurrection and brutality. There was no in-between, no middle ground or truce. This was it.
This war was life, and his life was now a bucket full of consequence and slowly but surely Stiles was beginning to feel it burn his skin like acid.
Derek wasn't in the apartment when he got there and Stiles wanted to be thankful but that over-whelming pull in the pit of his stomach didn't allow it. Honeycomb eyes stared blankly at the tiled floor, his feet shifted and he tossed his keys on to the counter top, closing his eyes when he heard them slide and fall to the ground. Tears brimmed against his lashes, his bottom lip trembled and sooner than later Stiles found himself stomping over and picking up his keys only to hurl them against the far wall next to the flat screen.
It didn't take long for him to hiss and slam his fist against the wall in the hall way, flinching when he pulled his knuckles back. He rolled his eyes at the sight of skin peeled up and blood pooling over his index and middle finger. Stiles didn't want to cry. He wanted to be strong. He needed to be strong. He needed control.
But everything was so insanely out of control.
Derek's bed was warm, the sheets were soft and Stiles wrapped himself in them when he stumbled past the double doors and nearly tripped over a pair of his partners shoes. The curtains were drawn, the television was off and everything was quiet. He could hear his own heartbeat, balled his hands into fists and flexed his fingers as he reminded himself to breathe.
To inhale and to exhale. In through his nose. Out through his mouth.
They could lose everything. Stiles could lose everything. He could lose every single person he'd grown to love, could watch them die, feel them wither away in the confines of steel and metal. He was burdened with the possibility of his friends drowning in the after-math of an unsuccessful mission.
A mission his best friend was about to take on without the slightest understanding of what he was getting himself into. A mission that they would be taking part in. The offense. The aggression. The un-relinquished anger- Stiles and Derek were the punishment.
Stiles chewed absently on the inside of his cheek and curled further into himself beneath the sheets on his co-pilots bed, listened to the static that buzzed around his head and remembered what Erica said all those months ago, the words that left him confused in the wake of her victory.
I'm always scared
Stiles understood. God, he understood.
"What if-" Allison dodged, ducked her head and twirled to try and swipe Derek off his feet with a kick of her leg, "this shit doesn't work?"
She panted and huffed when he jumped and aimed another punch at her chest which she blocked with both hands.
Derek shrugged, tilting his head to crack his neck, "We die."
Allison narrowed her eyes, "Derek!"
"It's going to work," he groaned with a roll of his eyes, side-stepping when she lunged forward, "Lydia is too smart for it not to work."
The alpha flinched when his knees were knocked forward and Allison struck him hard across the face with a curled fist. It took them both by surprise and she ended up petrified with her hands clasped over her mouth, gasping and stumbling over an apology. She reached out to touch his face but Derek was too busy wincing, lips pulled down in a grimace.
"Oh my-" Allison flailed her arms and fell to her knees, containing the soft laughter that threatened to fall from her mouth, "-fuck, Der, I am so sorry, I thought, I mean-"
"Jesus, Ally," Derek seethed, reaching up to adjust his jaw, "I didn't think you were aiming for my fucking face," the ranger scoffed, chuckling when he saw the coy smile hidden behind her hand.
The sound of the punching bag being beaten in the corner of the gymnasium mingled with weights dropping and sneakers against the treadmill. The alpha sighed quietly and rubbed his thumb along the line of his jaw before he stood up and reached over to nudge Allison with his hip. It was what they did, playfully hurt each other to lessen the blows from things that actually meant to wound them. Derek accepted Allison's blows and she felt powerful giving them, even as she stumbled over another apology and jutted her chin towards the door where Mako Mori walked in with Scott and Raleigh by her side.
Becket snorted a laugh, "You alright there, Hale?" he arched a brow and Derek rolled his eyes.
"I'm fine," he insisted bitterly, eyes swiping to the side to glare at Allison who was grinning, the tip of her tongue stuck between her teeth.
Scott was at her side in an instant, falling comfortably next to her with his arm wrapped over the curve of her waist, "Lydia hasn't slept in two days," he whispered against the lobe of her ear, keeping his words at a distance from the rest of them, "I think you need to go see her."
Allison's eyes fluttered like a feather towards her feet and Derek frowned when he saw her expression draw into something of fright and worry. He questioned her with a raise of his brow but only recieved a small wave in return as her and Scott walked off towards the doors and out into the hall.
Mako smoothed a hand over Derek's shoulder, "My wolf," she purred easily, "there's a war behind those eyes of yours."
"Well," Derek sighed, lifting a shoulder as he moved to cross his arms over his chest, "we are going to war tomorrow so..." the warmth in his voice trailed off and the alpha watched his two mentors nod slowly.
The acceptance was deafening and Derek wanted nothing more than to slam his fist against a wall, to dive into the metal bindings of Lionheart and run into battle. As foreign as it was to imagine, he almost wanted to go alone. To leave Stiles behind. To have something of value to give his life for, because in the end that was the price. Stiles and Derek would die and hopefully the rest of them could pick up the pieces. The rest of them could put everything back together, could put the world back together.
But in the end that was the price. They were the price.
"We've been at war," Raleigh shrugged as he tilted his head to the side, "this is just the game and proof of how quickly it can change."
Something inside the alpha twisted and Derek gave a swift nod, "Have they successfully re-wired the Kaiju brain? I know they said it would take time but-"
"It should be done by this afternoon in the meantime..." Raleigh looked towards Mako who was watching her partner carefully, "relax, Hale. Just-" he shook his head, "take some time. Give your mom a call."
Derek had been thrown around, he'd tip-toed on the wire that hovered above death and when he plunged towards it, still managed to fall just shy of it. But this- this was beyond death. This was the revolution, the reinvented apocalypse.
This was life and this was death and this was everything that lingered in-between.
He nodded, pliant and calm and Mako brushed her fingertips across his wrist before they walked away.
Derek was always put together, always strong and always ready but as he lifted each foot and took long strides towards the exit of the gym, he recognized the storm thrashing just beneath his skin and wondered if it would be enough to cheat death one more time.
"C'mere, hey! Stiles, don't, do not-" Erica's cheeks burned a furious red and the lines at the creases of each of her eyes crinkled up when she laughed. She was all open-mouthed grins and sharp hitched sounds that reminded Stiles of life and something floral. Her hair was curled up around her face and she was swatting at his hands when he prodded gently at her ribs.
Isaac heaved a sigh, eyes rolling as he reached into the metal cabinetry and pulled out a couple vials, "If you re-open your stitches I'll have to put off you getting into a restoration pod."
Erica swatted at Stiles who stuck his tongue between his teeth and moved back to stand next to her while she eyed him carefully from her wheel chair. Her recovery was going smoothly and each day was a gift as the wound on her abdomen started closing. The scar would be large, even with the technology they possessed to heal her- the remnants would still be visible and Erica was aware of that.
It was something she never wished the speak about and everyone respected that.
There was something about seeing her smile that brought Stiles back to earth, reminded him that there was far more to live for than he imagined. It wasn't just his friends, family, it wasn't just Derek- it was everyone. Every single person. The girl who sat behind him in English, his teachers, his old lacrosse coach in high school. They needed a hero and Stiles... Well, he swallowed painfully at the thought, Stiles wasn't a hero, but Lionheart was and when he was strapped in he gave her the strength to strangle the life out of this apocalypse.
"I'm gonna be okay, right? I'm gonna be able to fight again soon?" Erica, all bright eyes and a soft smile, looked up to Isaac as he pressed the syringe into her arm.
Deep maple eyes stared at the floor and Stiles shifted in his old combat boots.
"Soon," Isaac assured, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder.
It was a lie and they all knew it, but Erica nodded quietly and looked down at her lap where bandages circled her abdomen underneath her shirt.
Stiles wanted to convince himself that he was brave enough to fight for her, he wanted to say he was brave enough to die for her.
His lungs were heavy, fingertips twitched and Stiles swallowed painfully because he wasn't ready for this and in the end he knew he wasn't going to be. He felt like a puppy who had been taught to swim for an hour in the shallow end and was suddenly tossed straight into the deep end- no harness, no life-jacket. Just swim or die. Swim or choke. Swim or everyone else drowns with you.
"You okay?" Erica was smiling, he could hear it in her voice and when she reached over to poke him gently in the arm he nodded and looked down as Isaac slid the next needle into her arm.
"Yeah, I'm good- I'm fine," he stumbled over his words, reached up to press his index finger against his glasses and push them up on to the bridge of his nose, "just wanna make sure you get better."
Isaac was eyeing him and Stiles' cheeks blotched under the scrutiny of his gaze.
"I'll get better," the blonde mumbled, swatting him with the back of her hand, "the devil himself couldn't kill me."
The devil himself tried.
Stiles smirked, "No, he couldn't," he agreed and scratched her head playfully.
Most of the young pilot wanted to jet back to his apartment, crawl into Derek's bed again and flip through one of his old books. He wanted to lock the doors, turn on music, open a window and just lay there. Lay there and wonder, day dream, come to terms. He wanted to call home, to tell his dad to go put flowers down at his mother's grave when he got the chance. He wanted to flip through one of his old text books, maybe have a drink with Danny and then steal Derek and keep him there until the alarms sounded and maybe even keep him there until someone came to find them.
Maybe they would just hide and the alarms wouldn't wake them, maybe they could start a new life and wipe away what the drift had done to them, wipe away the last five years.
Erica tugged on his wrist and when he looked down she was watching him, "You sure you're okay?" the woman tested, eyebrows pointing down as they narrowed.
"Yeah," Stiles sighed, licking over his lips.
She ran her fingers just shy of his palm and he offered something of a smile.
Lydia's bare feet made no sound against the linoleum floor of the laboratory inside Shatterdome. She padded here and there, shook out her hand and hissed when her fingertips started to shake again. The beautiful milky skin she'd been graced with was ashy and worn; her eyes harbored deep bags of broken capillaries and stretched shadows. Her hair was tied back into a tight bun, a few strands hung around her face which she pushed behind her ears whenever they fell forward.
The lab was lit with harsh lights- different from the usual dim lit atmosphere she'd worked in prior, but a testament to how exhausted she was. The only reason for such blinding light would be to keep her steady and to keep her awake.
Coffee cups were stacked on her desk next to a half-eaten sandwich and she was chewing off the manicure she and Allison had went together to get not but a week ago. The red-head looked as hollow as she most certainly felt and when Allison pushed open the door to the lab the scientist nearly jumped out of her skin.
"Jesus Christ!" Lydia clutched her chest where an overly-large sweatshirt draped over her shoulders, "Allison... God, you scared me," her eyes dropped to the ground before she swiveled her head back towards the cups on the end of her desk. She reached for the one still steaming and took a sip.
The brunette looked to Scott who nodded solemnly as they scanned across the lab and saw her work scattered around and stuffed into folders.
Lydia glanced at them before waving her hand, gesturing for them to follow as she walked towards the back of the lab. What waited for them was an in-tact Kaiju brain hovering in a tank- wires were all bundled at its base and curved up to three helmets which were set neatly a-top three chairs. There was a laptop on a rolling desk accompanied with a keyboard in front of one and Allison tried to lift her jaw from where it gaped as she took in the sight before her.
The grey matter that floated so peacefully in the tube was a deep blue in color, sparking to life here and there when Lydia tapped on the glass, "This is Arcadia," she lifted a brow, "and he'll be drifting with Newt, Danny, and I tomorrow morning."
Allison's throat started to close.
"Lydia," Scott whined softly, "are you sure this is a good idea, I mean-"
"It will work," she assured with a snap of her teeth, "I'm sure it will work."
"You need-" Allison heard her voice start to drown, "Lydia when is the last time you slept, c'mon, let's-"
"I'm perfectly fine," the red head hissed, "I don't need to sleep, I need to get prepared-"
"No, Lydia," Allison's voice rose, "if you're going to do this you need to rest, and you need to eat and you need to come with us. Come on, you can sleep at our place, just-"
"Allison!"
"Lydia!" Allison shouted back.
Scott shied away behind Allison, shaking his head, teeth imbedded in his bottom lip before he finally pushed hand on his girlfriend's chest and nodded to Lydia, "Our door will be open."
The combat specialist jerked away from Scott who growled under his breath and reached for her hand again. Lydia moved away from the both of them, grabbed her tablet and started flicking through screens. Her usually green eyes were dull and red, lashes all clumped together. She looked like wreckage after a storm, like delicate cargo that hadn't been properly taken care of. Lydia Martin looked like devastation and she looked like mortality.
Allison batted at Scott's hand, huffing and puffing as he tried to drag her away until she finally planted her feet in the door way and shrugged him off.
"Fine," the brunette bit under her breath as she walked back over to the desk and plopped down into a rolling chair. She slid herself next to Lydia who was making a point not to look up from her work, "I'll stay here then. With you."
Silence followed, only the click of Lydia's chewed up nails on her tablet bounced off the walls. Scott stood in the door way, arms crossed over his chest and Allison let Lydia have her silence. She let her sit in it comfortably and watched, brown eyes soft and vulnerable under the fan of her lashes, before finally reaching up to curl her fingers around the top of Lydia's hand.
Green eyes blinked away, focused on Allison's shoes and her tight black sweat pants. Lydia's breathing faltered and Allison didn't say a word when she watched her friends eyes brim with uninvited tears.
"They're-" Lydia cleared her throat, swiping across the tablet again, "They're serving salmon today, aren't they?" Her voice was silky and tired, words like feathers falling from nude lips.
"Yeah, they are," Allison answered, thumb rubbing circles just below Lydia's middle finger.
"Scott, would you mind grabbing us some lunch?" Lydia didn't lift her eyes, she didn't push Allison away and Scott nodded swiftly and said 'yes' before asking Allison with a questioning glance if it was alright for him to go.
When the brunette tossed a nod over her shoulder Scott took his leave and Lydia asked Allison not to move her hand as they waited.
It was towards the afternoon when Stiles found Derek standing at Lionheart's boots, gazing up at her with his hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans. He had on a deep violet long sleeve shirt and Stiles could see the way his eyes danced around the Jaeger from his place in the door way.
The day hadn't gone by as quickly as Stiles presumed it would. Time didn't seem to speed up and pass them by but instead seemed to grant them something of a break. Stiles coaxed himself out of Derek's bed shortly after his outburst over breakfast with Danny; he visited briefly with Erica, ran on the treadmill while he listened to The 1975 and even managed to call his father. That alone had been enough for him to want to cash in- to call it a day, to maybe just disappear.
He felt the raw spot just below his trachea start to clench again and brushed the memory away. The way the sheriff's voice shook, he told Stiles how proud he was of him and how proud his mother would have been. It was surprising how even Stiles' voice had managed to stay throughout the conversation, how strong he'd made himself seem to the voice on the other end of the phone. To his father who so gently asked him to be careful, like Stiles was flying too high on the swings, or being too reckless on the lacrosse field. He'd told him he loved him, said in that rough voice worn by bourbon and years of cigarettes, 'kick some ass, kid' and Stiles couldn't help but laugh even after the line went quiet.
Deep molten eyes watched Derek sway on the balls of his feet, watched him tilt his head and heave a gust of air out of his lungs. He really was something to look out- besides the drift, besides their 'bond', far beyond the Kaiju or their shared memories, Derek Hale was just beautiful.
Stiles didn't mind crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame, he didn't mind letting his glasses fall to the tip of his nose and shifting to make his boots squeak against the polished floor.
Derek just stood there with his hands in his pockets gazing at Lionheart and Stiles wondered what it was he was pondering. Was he scared? Was he nervous or confused or was he just gazing to gaze? The young ranger rested the side of his head against the door frame and tried to remember how he felt coming into this. How he felt meeting Raleigh, the way he punched the air right out of Stiles' chest. He thought of Isaac and his strange mannerisms, of Allison and her arms that wrapped around him like a safety blanket, of her intensity and how thankful he was for every one of her five-thirty work outs. He thought of Scott, who he trusted with secrets only known in the pits of himself, the things that crawled up out of him during nights filled with rice wine and that blueberry beer he bought down town. There was Erica, and there was Boyd, guardians that sacrificed so much, and Lydia… A woman whose strength baffled him and brought tears to his eyes due to the memories now stored in his head from the man he still watched so carefully out on the floor of the hangar.
The man that hollowed Stiles out and replaced him with burning coals, his co-pilot who completed the parts of him that were so unwilling to be compromised even in the eyes of destruction. Derek didn't know how strange he was, how completely foreign he was to Stiles in the beginning and even now- as Stiles watched him reach up to run his fingers through his hair, watched him close his eyes and nod like he had been having a conversation with himself all this time, how completely enthralled Stiles was with him. He looked like shards of glass bathed in sunlight, felt like frost bite and the sting of a cold spring morning- he wasn't just a star, he was a fucking galaxy, a star nursery; he was Eos, and he was Nova, and he was everything in between that Stiles didn't understand but read so perfectly like a language he'd learned over time.
He was beautiful and he was terrifying.
Forest eyes blinked when Derek turned his head to catch Stiles watching him, "What?" he practically barked across the hangar, eyebrows raised and lips pursed into a thin aggravated line.
"Nothing," Stiles answered as he picked his feet up and walked forward to join his co-pilot, eyes turned up to trail across their Jaeger, "I was just watching you."
"Watching me?" Derek purred under his breath, "Why exactly were you watching me?"
A coy smile tugged at the corners of Stiles lips and he pushed his glasses up on to the bridge of his nose, "I wanted to look at you."
Hale snorted on a laugh and rolled his eyes, reached over to tap his fingers on Stiles' waist, "You gonna be okay for-"
"Let's not," Stiles sighed, head tilting to the side before he looked over to Derek, "let's not talk about how okay we both are going to lie about being and just go into town and get something to eat."
Derek was quiet for a minute, eyes searching Stiles for some kind of weak spot, the crack where he would find the small boy who was scared of a Kaiju blue injection hiding. But there was nothing- just the blink of big doe eyes and a small inhale through his nose, exhale through his mouth.
"Seafood?" Derek murmured, voice hardly above a whisper as he coaxed his thumb into the belt loop on the front of Stiles' jeans.
"Hey! Hey!" Newton was scrambling around the lab, a cup of cold coffee in one hand, his cell phone in the other which he had pressed to his ear, "Lydia said all that's left is the basic intelligence. We've already cloned the DNA structure now we're using the- yes, yes! I said yes!"
The scientist sighed loudly before he pulled the phone from his ear and talked into the speaker, "Danny, I need you here, like two hours ago, like right now, right fucking-" his voice strained but he ended up whining and twirling in a circle before practically falling into a chair, "Lydia is asleep but if this shit isn't finished by tonight then we all get blown to fucking bits so now, Danny, yes, now!"
It didn't take long for Danny to come stumbling in to the lab with his own cup of coffee and a few books stacked under his arm, "Okay, so I think I-"
"You're here!" Newt squawked, jabbing his index finger in Danny's general direction while Hermann massaged his temples with his index and middle finger, "Good, okay! So, we've cloned the entirety of the brain and we have the stem-cell regenerative Kaiju blue on hand so where exactly… I mean, what exactly do we do?"
Danny set his books down and shrugged, "We re-wire the brain and then tomorrow when we drift with it we'll be able to influence the blank slate left behind."
Hermann jotted down a few calculations on a note pad, "What will you be using to stimulate the effects of a 'blank slate' as you like to call it? I mean, is there a way to re-wire something, to wipe an entire race clean of its instincts?"
"Electric pulses into the hippocampus and the putamen will allow for a small window into the amygdala, as soon as we get a couple good shocks in we can basically lobotomize the brain and then insert the new stem-cells. Once the stem-cells are in place we drift and…" Danny shrugged.
Newt was blinking at him, all wide eyes and parted lips, "And…? And what? And?"
Danny lifted his shoulder, showing his palms in mock surrender, "And we hope it works?"
Hermann's eyes closed before he re-opened them to stare at the ceiling, a string of curses falling over his lips as Newt nodded, one eyebrow arched while he stared at Danny who drank his coffee and looked to Arcadia who sat floating in his tube towards the back of the room. There was some kind of uncertainty shared between the three of them, a risk that reminded Hermann and Newt of the fiasco they got themselves into for drifting with a Kaiju all those years ago and the price they would pay for doing it a second time. There was pity, a bit of remorse from the scientists to Danny who was all bright ideas and blossoming life, all potential and calculations. He wasn't force, he wasn't manipulation and Newt wished he had the heart to explain to him how truly ready the boy wasn't.
They spent the early afternoon watching Danny work, helped him set up the electrical waves and gave the brain a few good jolts of electricity before he could actually reach the amygdala where they set in with a hollow needle and attempted to wipe clean the data strewn together inside. There was no way to clearly see if it worked or if it didn't, but the neural activity was still strong, only wavering when the shocks made contact. It twitched, shook inside the tube and when the procedure was done the three men all stood around the tube and stared.
Wide eyes blinked, Hermann wondered whether or not any of this would even work, Newt thought of ideas for cloning, on replication of the creatures themselves while Danny only prayed that tomorrow would bring success.
"When did Lydia say she'd be down-"
"She won't," Hermann interjected and glanced at Danny who tilted his head curiously, "she needs to rest and so do both of you if you're expecting a strong enough drift with these… things-"
"They're Kaiju-"
"Oh, shut up Newt- as I was saying, you both should eat and sleep. We have nothing else to get done until tomorrow when the clock says it's time."
Newt twiddled his thumbs and Danny nodded even as his eyes stayed put on the oversized brain hovering in the center of the test tube. Hermann was the first to pull at Newt's sleeve and demand he sleep, Danny only left moments after before he pulled out his phone and sent a message.
To: Stiles Stilinski
From: Danny Mahealani December 4, 2031, 4:09 P.M
Can we talk? For real this time
Stiles' phone buzzed in his pocket as he sat on the deck of a homey little restaurant on the outskirts of Hong Kong. Derek was across from him, sipping something dark out of a wine glass, a plate decorated with a swordfish fillet and some kind of sour soup sat between them. When he glanced down he breathed out a sharp exhale and felt Derek's curiosity as he strained to glance over the table to peek at his phone.
"You're always doing that," Stiles purred calmly, "it's Danny, relax."
"I am relaxed," Derek chirped, "I'm just curious. Is everything okay between the two of you?"
Stiles stiffened almost immediately and he could feel the anxiety start to swarm around his stomach. There wasn't a proper way to describe how he felt on the subject, how the entirety of what was about to happen could change the course of time and life for every single person he had ever come into contact with. How every single person he had come into contact with didn't matter a quarter as much as Danny did and now not only was his best friend taking part in a war that might not be won, but he was being used as a strategy.
The younger ranger shook his head, reached out and dug his fork into the swordfish steak before taking a bite, "My best friend is a weapon, so no, everything really isn't okay between the two of us."
Derek took a sip off the glass in his hand, "He's not the weapon, we are-"
"You know what I mean," Stiles groaned with a roll of his eyes, "I didn't want him to be a part of this at all, I wanted him safe, I wanted him back home."
"Nowhere is safe," Derek added carefully, "Nobody is really safe."
Stiles' lungs burned, his stomach clenched and he felt his jaw tighten because as much as he wanted to fight Derek on the subject there really was no use. He was right. No one was truly safe and this option was there only option but… What happened when Danny didn't make it? What happened when Newt, or-
"What happens when Lydia dies, Derek?" the words slid out from under Stiles' tongue and once they breached the air he immediately regretted them. His co-pilot's nostrils flared and Stiles watched the hollow of his cheek deflate where he clenched his jaw over and over again.
"Weren't we not supposed to talk about this?" the alpha asked, words sharp as they sliced through the air between them.
It was silent after that, the soft crash of waves could be heard at a distance on the beach and the city streets were crowded with people. Hong Kong was lit like it was every night of the year, neon lights flashed bright over tall buildings, ships decorated in bulbs of muti-colored fluorescents floated in the harbor and Stiles watched over the edge of the balcony where they sat. He watched the people below hurry this way and that, watched them live out their lives in the hopes that something wouldn't crawl its way out of hell and punish them for their sins. Watched them hope that when the Kaiju did surface their knights in magnificent suits of armor would come to their rescue. Would abolish the end of humanity and call re-claim their planet.
Warm fingertips played absently on the tops of Stiles' hand and he looked at Derek over the rim of his glasses. His co-pilot blinked, traced his finger along the bony knuckles that Stiles was rather embarrassed about and took a steady breath in through his nose before he exhaled through his mouth. It was strange how the two men adopted each other's mannerisms over their time spent in drift and together, strange how Stiles felt the need to bump his foot against the alpha's under the table.
"My mom wants to meet you, but I know you probably want to see your dad for Christmas."
The statement took Stiles off-guard and at first he narrowed his eyes, flicked his eyes from Derek's chest back to his face where a patient expression greeted him. He hadn't even taken the time to think about holidays. They missed Halloween, he gave his dad a call on Thanksgiving but never really thought it to be a priority to even acknowledge them. Holidays and traditions he used to love had lost their luster during his short time at Shatterdome but as he looked at Derek from across the table all he could imagine was both of them sitting by the fire in California drinking Bailey's with his dad. He could almost taste the way it would feel to be at ease.
Stiles swallowed painfully, took a sip off his drink and nodded, "We can do Christmas with my dad and New Years with your mom? I'd like to meet your sister too."
The way Derek's face softened and how his shoulders relaxed was enough for Stiles to play along. It was enough to allow himself the pleasure of imagining their life post-war, something they may never see, a future that neither of them were guaranteed but a future all the same.
Derek gave his hand a squeeze, "I'm sure we can do that. Talia- my mother, she bakes these pies in winter, brown sugar and apricot," the ranger's lips curved up, twitched into a smile, "they're amazing."
"My dad always makes some kind of bird," Stiles laughed around the words, "whether it's turkey or chicken or pheasant, he always insists we have a bird."
Derek turned his head, looked over the banister to the sea and Stiles did the same. He felt Derek's fingers curl around his hand and rubbed his thumb across the alpha's wrist, inhaled and exhaled, enjoyed the thought of a future that were probably never going to have. But he enjoyed it none-the-less. He enjoyed day-dreaming about Derek back in Oregon coaching soccer at his old high school, enjoyed the idea of Stiles working as a professor in the junior college nearby. They'd have an old house that needed just as much work as they did, a project they could put their mind to and fix up just the way they pleased. Stiles might grow some flowers; Derek might take some cooking classes on their down time.
It would be mundane and it would be theirs and it would be life.
Meaningful and simple.
Derek pressed his lips against Stiles' temple when they pulled up at Shatterdome and Stiles felt a jolt in his stomach like kitchen clattering against a clean tile floor.
This was finality.
"Go on," Derek was all warm words and gentle touches, "Go talk to him."
Stiles wanted to shake his head, wanted to ball up his hands and insist that they just go back to the apartment and hide until tomorrow, but that couldn't be his escape anymore and he knew that. This was war. This was it. This was the end.
There was a strength hidden behind his own eyes that Stiles never knew he could ignite until he met the man standing before him, a strength that re-defined him. He was not a coward and he would not hide. Stiles squeezed his shaking hands into fists before un-curling them and nodding, turning his head to capture Derek's lips in his own.
"Go," Derek chuckled playfully when Stiles smiled against his mouth.
Stiles watched him walk away, watched Derek take those long strides towards their apartment and watched him open his phone and press it to his ear. His coat hit his knees, dark charcoal grey and Stiles felt his stomach give another pull when his partner turned the corner and was out of his sight.
He could feel anxiety rising into his throat when he walked in through the side door and on to the hangar floor. The Jaegers were priority one for Shatterdome and Stiles watched the engineers work as he walked by, watched them yell to one another, tighten bolts and test the weapons units. His boots shifted and he let out a shaky breath as he glanced over to Gypsy Danger who was also being prepped for tomorrow. New plasma guns were being installed into her forearms, blasters in her wrists were being rotated and Stiles couldn't help but feel the weight of their actions already piling on his shoulders.
It took a minute before Stiles forced himself away from the Jaeger's and into the cafeteria, a moment of concentration as he found Danny sitting with a book in his hands and a cup of tea on the table top in front of him before he found the will to walk forward.
"Not a coward," he reminded himself quietly as he weaved through the metal tables.
Stiles cleared his throat before he sat down next to Danny and he didn't bother trying to make anything formal, didn't care to try and come up with some kind of speech or explanation. Instead he folded his arms on the table top and rested his head on them, peeked up at his friend and huffed, "I'm terrified," he confessed through a soft whine, "and I don't want you to get hurt."
Danny's smile was small and confident, "I know," it was all he said before he pushed the cup of tea towards Stiles, "it's maple green tea, have some."
Stiles sat up, pushed his glassed up and took a sip, "It's good," he raised a brow and watched Danny smile back at him. That same smile he always wore, the one that told him 'it's okay we've all hooked up with someone at a frat party' or 'it's okay tequila does shit to people' the same smile that said 'I know you miss your mom but I'm here'.
"You're my best friend," Danny spoke clear and firm, "and we're going to get this shit done together."
Dark espresso eyes blinked and Stiles nodded, "Yeah…" he paused and bit down on the inside of his cheek, "we are."
Stiles' fear had melted into nerves, made the panic he normally felt building at the base of his spine start to vibrate across the rest of his body, but it didn't matter. None of that mattered. What was important was his ability to conquer, his drive to fight, to protect, to live.
Danny's hand came up to his shoulder, pulled on him until he was wrapped in a tight embrace. Stiles pressed his palm against the top of his friends back and took in a shaky breath, gave a curt nod when Danny flicked his eyebrows up. He didn't ask Stiles if he was alright because there was no point, it was obvious as the day as long how dismantled Stiles was, but the hacker grabbed his book and his tea, gestured to the apartments and sighed.
"I need to get some sleep before tomorrow, everything is all set to go," he watched Stiles' eyes fall to the floor.
This was real. This was happening.
"You should too," Danny added, "C'mon, I'll walk with you."
Stiles didn't protest he just followed beside him until they came to the lobby, "See you tomorrow?" Danny inquired through the curl of a playful smile.
"Y-yeah- yes," Stiles stumbled over his words as he heard the elevator door open and he tried to smile when Danny got inside and pressed a button on the left but nothing came. His mouth fell slack and he felt his chest constrict, felt his stomach flip.
The doors closed and Stiles breathed.
Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth.
Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Stiles picked up his feet, made them move down the hall and shook out his trembling hand enough to unlock the door to the apartment.
Derek's coat was slung over one of the tall chairs at the bar and the light in the kitchen was on. He shrugged his own jacket off, kicked his boots off and tried to steady his breathing, closed his eyes, counted to ten and walked down the hall where the double doors leading into his co-pilots room were ajar.
"Hey," Derek greeted, eyes glued to the pages of a book as he sat in his bed, one knee pulled up, the other lying flat. Stiles inhaled a broken breath, swallowed as he tugged at the hem of his shirt before he tossed it to the ground next to the bed. Derek's eyes crawled over him, paused in certain places where shallow scars still decorated his flesh, where his ribs had been broken and his hips shattered. Strong hands reached for him when Stiles found his way to the edge of the bed, when he crawled over Derek and took the book from his hands.
Calloused fingertips plucked Stiles' glasses off his nose, set them down on top of the book on the night stand, "Come here."
Stiles didn't take his time in leaning down to kiss him, but instead crushed their lips together, pressed down and indulged in the way Derek fought with his mouth and his tongue and his teeth. He let himself lose control, let himself fall into his co-pilot, into Derek Hale and didn't think about whether they would make it through the morning to follow. He sighed between their parted lips, slid his hand up to curve around Derek's jaw and didn't protest when the alpha pushed at his hips.
When Stiles' back hit the comforter he hissed and pulled Derek back down into his space, cursed and gasped when teeth were imbedded into his throat.
Stiles pulled his nails down Derek's back.
Derek bit the chorus of a love song into Stiles' chest.
They didn't undress each other slowly or lovingly, no, Derek tossed his shirt away and Stiles kicked his pants off. They pawed and clawed at each other, whined and whimpered. It wasn't beautiful but it was stunning and it didn't mean 'we have time' it meant 'this is it' and something about that reminded Stiles of just how excruciating the love between them was. The man who ran his hands down Stiles' sides and pushed his thumbs into the hollows of his hips was not his star crossed lover.
"Fuck," Stiles cursed when strong hips pushed down between his legs.
Derek was not his muse; he was not his thrilling romance.
Derek was just his.
He was the permanence that love tended to lack; he was the unsteady ground that love shied away from.
Derek pressed the future they may never have into Stiles' throat and he bit the words of their unfinished story into his sides.
When Derek said 'I love you' Stiles said it back and he reached up to run his fingertips through Derek's hair, let his hands slide over his shoulders and down the length of his arms. He took the time to memorize each scar that told a story he had seen in Derek's memories, pressed his lips against each one and listened to the way Derek tried not to hold his breath.
"Even in the dark you're blinding," Stiles whispered, watching as Derek lifted his head and looked down at him, bumped his nose against the curve of Stiles' cheek.
It was strange to come to the understanding that Derek Hale had set fire to Stiles all those months ago and that he had been burning ever since.
"What're we gonna do?" Allison watched Lydia from the couch in her apartment.
The red-head was holding a cup of coffee in her hands. She had slept for a few hours, rested, prepared. Her makeup was done, lashes coated in Christian Dior mascara, lips perfectly lined in a deep red liner. Her hair was curled, hung down over her shoulders and she swept it up with her hand to tie it back into a pony tail.
There was a knock on the door and Scott opened it to find Isaac standing with his hands in the pockets of his white coat.
Bright green eyes blinked up and settled on the doctor, watched him take in a steady breath.
"We're gonna do what we have to do," Lydia answered before she set the cup down and stood, a dark red dress wrapped tight around her torso, falling to just above her knees, "and we're gonna give them hell."