A/N: HI FRIENDS ITS BEEN A WHILE. Also, not me forgetting about my OC of Newt's brother oopppppps. And a certain someone returns for a (maybe) shocking reveal!

Please let me know your thoughts and poke me with your predictions of the future! (And thanks to those couple of you who'd commented recently and pushed me to update this again, ily)

2025, January 19 – 17:25 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China

"Sonny, before you leave…" Herc waved her closer, walking back towards his desk and loosening his tie. "Do you have the mission report handy?"

She nodded once, saying, "Sent the draft to your holoscreen this morning, sir."

"Right," he huffed, running a hand over his hair. Herc stared down at his desk, almost lost in thought. "Right, I did glance at it. Sorry, it's been—"

"Yeah, I know." Greyson looked at him with a sad smile. It had been a hard week for everyone, after they'd closed the Breach. Some more than others.

"I read the addendum, earlier. What you said, I was…" He hesitated before stating, "Chuck had made up his mind. There was nothing anyone could have done — for either of them. Like all great captains to their ships, pilots choose to go down with their Jaegers, and each other."

"But do you really believe that?" the Lieutenant countered quietly. She waited to meet his gaze; there were things in the Marshal's eyes that she was sure mimicked her own. "Herc… the drafted report I sent you… I left something out of it."

She wasn't given a vocal reply, but looking into his face, Greyson saw his question: Why? So, she continued: "Both Jaeger connections were strong, Gipsy's and Striker's. There was nothing wrong, really, it was just the Drift sequencing wasn't, uh…"

"Wasn't what?"

"Instrumental data showed the Stacker and Chuck were linked well enough. The Pons was aligned, but their Drift was… unbalanced."

Herc frowned. "And you didn't think that'd be something you wanted to tell me sooner?"

"I-I should have, I know. I didn't think it meant anything," argued Greyson. Her eyebrows furrowed as she bit at the corner of her mouth. "It wasn't unusual; you know unbalanced Drifts aren't rare. It was just that Stacker — his connection was overly dominant. I thought…" She caught herself, sighing. "There was a flux in Chuck's brain activity. I thought I was seeing things until I looked at the black box recordings, after…"

After I cried my heart out for the hundredth time and needed something to do with my hands, she thought, but didn't dare say.

"A flux," Herc repeated emotionlessly, as if he wondered that he may have misheard her.

Greyson exhaled a breath, eyes flickering to meet his gaze. "There was, uh… I dunno, a sudden fluctuation in his frontal lobe, in the cerebrum, before they detonated the bomb attached to Striker Eureka."

"Why bother bringing it up?" the Marshal inquired. "What did you think it meant, if it's so important to leave out of the damn report?"

"The cerebrum has a lot of functions," she explained, "and the frontal lobe controls lots of things. A person's personality, their judgment, decision-making… their want to survive."

"And, what're you implying? That Stacker'd completely ignored Chuck in a time like that?"

"I'm not — listen, it isn't — I'm saying people at the end of the line, even people like Marshal Pentecost, they get tunnel vision and would just be as adamant on finishing the mission." Greyson licked her lips, feeling her mouth dry. "I don't know what their Drift could have done. Herc, you and I know the blueprints for Striker Eureka. Those escape pods were intact. They both didn't need to — Stacker could have finished alone. It's like Chuck's hand was forced into staying, and I just let him die—"

"You didn't."

"But what if I did!?" Tears were already forming in the corners of her eyes. She muttered a small apology, taking in a stuttering breath. "What if I'd said something? What if… if I'd let myself be selfish? What if I could've saved him?"

Herc was silent; his silence rang louder in Greyson's ears than the chatter in the corridor outside of his office. It meant her words had gotten through to him, that he was slowly realizing the gravity of the situation. Instead, he said, "You can't save everyone." The statement was stiff, final. "No matter what you do, you can't save everyone."

Angela, she realized. Greyson knew the story, as did a lot of others. She didn't have to think twice about what Herc himself was implying, but it didn't stunt her hurt any less, and it didn't stop her anger from rising. "He didn't have to go out there. What if we could've done more to—"

"Don't you think I tried? Stacker didn't want to hear any of it," Herc shot back angrily. "I tried, okay? I was… There was no time to look for reserves, and you know for damn sure Chuck would've stepped up to plate regardless."

"He was your son! He was your son, Herc — Angela's son." Greyson bit back every remark and curse that threatened to escape her lips but chose instead to school back her emotions. She deeply filled her lungs, blinking away the hot tears in her eyes. "I-I'm sorry, I just…" Her words fell from her lips in a broken whisper, "I can't believe he's…"

Herc stepped up to her slowly, pulling her tightly against his chest. "I know, kiddo. I miss him too."

2025, January 24 – 15:06 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China

In every hall, ever corridor, there were just too much noise. In the nearly two weeks since the end of the Kaiju War, it was like a dark cloud had been lifted, and for a second time in most people's lifetimes, no monstrous threats were looming over their heads. Greyson had kept herself busy; having a full schedule meant her mind was forced to be occupied with everything that didn't pertain to — to Chuck.

Living was… new. They hadn't really lived for the better part of the decade, merely survived. It was like trying to relearn how to function in society, finding their places in the world once again. Staffers were hustling through their paperwork, and networks and government officials alike hadn't stopped banging on their doors for the past two weeks.

Greyson stood in front of the large windows of the LOCCENT, watching the press conference set up in Scramble Alley below. She didn't envy the Marshal at all, having to be the new face of the Jaeger Program as a whole. Herc, wearing his dress blues, stood at the wooden podium placed on a small stage which was surrounded by rows of chairs filled with a crowd of news reporters. She wouldn't have been able to count on her fingers the number of times he'd had to recount the unredacted events of Operation Pitfall.

She craned her neck slightly when the automatic doors of the command room wisped open, turning to greet whoever had entered.

"Sonny! There you are. A little birdie told me you might be here," Raleigh called, swaggering into the LOCCENT with two mugs of steaming hot coffee. He still looked a bit battered and bruised but was grinning widely and bouncing on his feet. The blond's footsteps echoed as he walked to the front of the room, reaching out one arm to hand over a cup of coffee.

Greyson thanked him before slipping her fingers into the ceramic handle of the mug. With her other hand, she cupped the bottom of her drink. "Well, you found me," the Lieutenant teased, blowing a bit on its surface.

"Hiding from the press," the two of them finished in unison. The two friends shared a laugh, falling into a brief silence as they watched Herc on the little screen sitting at the corner of the console. From the corner of her eye, she observed Raleigh glance over the folders and files scattered across the room.

"Any progress?" he asked her, manifesting faux interest to her clerical activities.

Greyson hissed through her teeth, answering, "Barely making a dent, man. This is like a black hole of nothing, except I'm on the other side of it." She picked up a thick stack of papers, waving it dramatically. "But with more paper cuts."

Raleigh sipped at his coffee, leaning slightly against the console. "Don't you and Tendo have people for this shit? You've got other responsibilities, right? Like, oh, I don't know — not doing work that could be put off until later?"

"Maybe" was Greyson's simple answer. She huffed a laugh through her nose, muttering, "At least some people are taking the whole 'we canceled the apocalypse' thing in stride." With one hand, she shifted some spreadsheets into a new stack. That same hand rested over her stomach for a moment before she pulled it away.

She noticed Raleigh give her a concerned glance, but it disappeared from his expression just as quickly as it had appeared. "Hey," he started, setting down his half-finished drink. "A few of us were thinking of going out tonight, before I—"

"I'd love to, Rals, bu—"

"Great! I'll let Tendo know you're coming bar-hopping. Well. You know… in what parts of city we haven't completely destroyed…" Their eyes met, and he smiled a heartwarming smile that faltered when he gauged the look on his friend's face.

"I'm not going." Her answer was blunt, most likely not what Raleigh was hoping to hear. In that moment, he didn't respond immediately. Greyson was a little grateful for it because she couldn't stand—

"What the hell's your damage?"

That. She knew she couldn't stand that; Raleigh acting like she was so different from before, reacting like she'd just said the most surprising thing. His tone had chipped away at her slowly inside, and Greyson frowned. "My 'damage' is that I am busy, actually. There's a memorial happening soon, in case you haven't heard, and there's a lot of planning that I need to handle because I'm not free to do whatever the fuck I want like you can."

Raleigh blinked a few times, looking like he was warring with himself internally. He wet his lips, saying something that caught Greyson off guard: "Then let me. Let me help. You don't have to do this alone, either."

2025, January 29 – 00:43 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China

It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. She thought she was going to be fine, but the grief had hit her as suddenly as the semitruck that sent had sent Derek Shepherd to the hospital in Grey's Anatomy. Once the first tear had slipped down her cheek, Greyson couldn't stop herself from crying into her pillows. She'd buried her face into them, the sobs shaking her entire body and making her chest ache.

This was the first birthday she'd spend without Chuck at her side. Without his syrupy sweet "good morning, love," without his tight bear hugs, without his loving smiles. She hated the sound of her cries almost as much as she hated the feeling of emptiness in her heart.

2025, February 1 – 11:19 – Pan-Pacific Memorial Cemetery, Hawaii, United States

"…It's bittersweet to have all of us here today, as only a few weeks ago we lost so many of our own." Secretary-General Dustin Kreiger looked out into the crowd in front of the large stage, his expression remaining neutral. He dipped his head slightly, scanning the faces of the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps personnel in front of him, and lingered on the first row. His dark eyes met Greyson's gaze for a moment, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she recognized the pity in them.

He continued into the mic, "We take great pride in honoring the lives of everyone involved in fighting for our world, sans the borders that used to separate us, in the face of unprecedented enemy force. I won't hide the fact that the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps made a significant misstep in losing faith in our Jaeger Program — it's something we regret deeply — but I personally want to share my gratitude with the ones who'd made a stand at Hong Kong. Acts of sacrifice and bravery were demonstrated by many in the final days of the Kaiju War, and I unfortunately cannot honor them all."

It was sunny outside, the heat beating down on them relentlessly. Greyson felt sweaty in her dress blues, grateful if anything for the cap of her uniform providing the slightest bit of shade. Kreiger continued on with his speech of values and gallantry, welcoming the honorees to walk up on stage. Each of the remaining Rangers stood, followed by the two K-Science squints, and then the other officers. Greyson kept her eyes trained to the back of Raleigh's head as she followed him around to the steps, feeling her heartbeat thump loudly in her ears.

Gottlieb and Geiszler walked up first, followed by Tendo, receiving their medals for meritorious service. Greyson and Herc were called on-stage next, earning Bronze Stars and distinguished service recognition for their efforts during the Double Event drop. (Greyson's hands shook the entire time, and her skin buzzed with nerves even after she'd accepted her awards.) Those who'd fallen in that fight, the Kaidonovskys and the two Wei Tang brothers, were recognized posthumously.

"It is my greatest privilege," Kreiger remarked, "to distinguish the following heroes, whose actions during the Battle of the Breach deserve special note."

They all watched from stage-right as Mako was presented with a Silver Star, and Raleigh with a Medal of Honor for "showcasing valor in combat and risking his life to traverse through the Breach." The large crowd of attendees clapped and cheered, and Greyson watched as a UN officer came up to the stand on the other side of the stage and unveiled two large photo frames.

"The members of the United Nations also share their immense pleasure in presenting the PPDC Cross to Ranger Chuck Hansen and Marshal Stacker Pentecost, both who had laid down their lives in an act that ensured the success of their final operation. Receiving this award, on behalf of his son, is Marshal Hercules Hansen."

Herc cleared his throat quietly, shifting on the balls of his feet. Greyson placed a hand to his forearm, squeezing slightly before he moved forward to accept the second velvet case with Chuck's medal.

Kreiger returned to the podium, holding onto what seemed to be one final award. "I would like to call up to the stage to receive the award on his father's behalf, Jacob Pentecost."

Murmurs swept across the crowd, hushed whispers like a wave. Greyson stared wide-eyed to the other end of the stage, surprised to see Jake as he ascended the steps. She hadn't even realized he had shown up to the ceremony, considering that he may have attended out of obligation more than anything. It had almost been a year since anyone saw him last, after he was dismissed from the Program following his incident.

Greyson wondered if Jake had been able to talk with his dad before the final operation. Had they even been on speaking terms? Did he get to say goodbye? Those were the only thoughts running through her mind as she watched the late Marshal's son accept his award with a blank expression but sad eyes.

It was later on, after the rabid press and bombardment of questions and flashing photographs, that Greyson spotted Mako and Jake behind the stage away from everyone else. The siblings held onto each other tightly, crying, and she could almost feel their grief.

2025, February 11 – 14:48 – United Christian Hospital, Hong Kong, China

"…Why did you need me back for?" Donny Ressler questioned, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched hospital personnel hustle down the corridors.

"Officers from the Defense Corps wanted to meet with you," the receptionist explained to him in a bored tone, typing away on her desktop. "Wei Tanglong is being transferred today."

Donny straightened up, his brows rising on his forehead. "Jin? Already?"

"I can't say much else because of—"

Someone tapped Donny on the shoulder, and he turned to come face-to-face with someone wearing a recognizable PPDC uniform. "Hi, sorry, you must be the guy who found our guy. I'm Noah Geiszler, I'm with the…" The man — Noah — trailed off as a perplexed expression fell over his face. He blinked multiple times as he stood and stared. "Oh my God. Wait, you're… Holy shit, are you — You told staff before your name was 'Donald Ressler'?"

"Yes. Donny, please." He extended a hand to shake and almost let it fall back to his side when Noah took too long to react.

"Right! Um. Right. You, uh, should probably come into the 'Dome — back with us, I mean." He stared again, before shaking his head. "There's something that — ah, I'm sure the Marshal would be happy to hear that we found—"

"Listen, I don't have a lot of time today. I only came down here 'cause I thought you guys needed a statement from me, or something."

Noah nodded slightly in some form of agreement, but the look in his eyes was telling an entirely different story. "Or something."

When Donny had left his home earlier today, he never expected to be doing more than swinging by the hospital and talking with some random dude from the Defense Corps, and then going on his merry way. Never in a million years would he have thought he'd be ushered into a helicopter and taken to the last battle station that used to house actual, real-life Jaegers.

There was a weird buzz of what he could only describe as excitement when the military chopper landed at the Hong Kong Shatterdome. Noah, one of the J-Tech officers, accompanied him and one of the 'Dome guards across the bustling tarmac, the blades of the Jumphawk still whirring behind them. Donny felt an awful sense of déjà vu as they weaved in between other staffers; radio static going in and out, voices meshing together, STRIKE groups barking out orders. It felt… familiar, like he'd been there before, but he knew he'd never stepped foot on a military base in his life.

Even then, it wasn't until they had walked into a freight lift and began ascending did Donny find his voice again to ask, "Where the hell are we going?"

Noah replied, "Having an audience with the Marshal." Off of the blond's presumably scared expression, he elaborated: "Don't worry, you're not in trouble. Just… I know he'd want to talk to you."

It was the only answer he'd get, considering that Noah and the guard had promptly led him to the Marshal's office and told him to take a seat. Donny was restless as he waited in silence, his eyes searching around the room as the clock ticked on. The design of the office felt… eerily familiar to him, too, and he had no idea why.

The door behind him opened, followed by a low, rough voice. "Mr. Ressler, I'm Marshal Herc Hansen. Had some final things to square away, sorry to've kept you waiting."

Donny got to his feet then, taking in the sight of the man wearing a well-pressed suit and ribbons on his left pocket. A dull ache started at the back of his head when he looked at the Marshal, but he shook it off. Hansen looked tired in a way exhaustion usually crept up on people with the world on their shoulders; his face seemed aged and battle-worn, despite Donny having never met the man before. "No problem, sir," he said. "It's an honor to meet you. I, uh, was wondering, though, why I needed to be brought in?"

Marshal Hansen had frozen mid-step, mouth agape as he, too, stared blatantly at Donny's face. (There seemed to be a weird habit for PPDC folk to stare these days, and it was starting to get a little unnerving.) "Sir?" Donny prodded cautiously.

"I-I… am so sorry. It's just you… reminded me of someone. But that couldn't—" The Marshal shook his head, clearing his throat. An indecipherable look found its way onto his face. The man's eyes flickered over to his desk, to the glorified iPad that sat on its corner. "Excuse me a moment, I need to… inform my Lieutenant of something before we get started."

"Of course," Donny said politely, moving to sit once again. "Y'know, I've been getting that a lot recently, reminding someone of somebody. Probably just have one of those faces."

"I can imagine," the Marshal muttered absentmindedly, maneuvering around the large desk and unlocking his holoscreen to initiate some video call feature. "Darcy, find Noah Geiszler for me before you head to my office—"

There was a mix of a digital voice and a real one as the person replied with, "Too late." Marshal Hansen looked past Donny as his head whipped up. A woman's voice came from the doorway: "I came straight here as soon as I heard the Jumphawk had landed. I can still find Noah for you, if you want?"

Donny twisted around in the chair, moving to see who'd walked into the room. It was one of the PPDC officers he'd been seeing on the news segments on television lately, the Filipina Ranger who'd fought alongside Becket and been the girlfriend of the late Hansen. She had her hair pulled up into a ponytail, the sleeves of her sweater pushed up to her elbows. For some reason, looking at Lieutenant Darcy made him feel… off. Like whenever he'd walk into a room and forget what he came there for. "Have we met before?" Donny inquired, unable to help himself.

Her eyes flickered to him momentarily before she did a double take. Donny watched her eyes grow as wide as saucers, as a visible shiver shook her shoulders; it was almost like she'd seen a ghost. "…Yancy?"

"Uh, no, that's not my — hey, are you okay?" Donny grew concerned as she swayed a bit on her feet. "Sorry if I — oh, fuck!"

"Sonny!"

The Marshal had rushed in her direction immediately, with Donny on his heels, when the Lieutenant collapsed to the ground.