Chapter Text
Everyone across the globe has seen Chuck Hansen on television. They’d have to have been living under a Kaiju forsaken rock otherwise. He took the world by storm when he joined the Jaeger Program at sixteen to serve beside his father. He became the youngest of pilots to take the center of the global stage.
He’d been young and brash with a sullen expression on his face the first time reporters interviewed him, with tawny red-brown hair and an eye color that a group of people could never agree on at any given time. He quickly became known for being hot-tempered and habitually disagreeable. Despite these glaring faults, he was talented and quickly rose through the ranks. At eighteen, his legion of Jaeger groupies probably outshined the numbers that once squealed over the Becket Brothers.
By twenty-one, Chuck Hansen was breathing fire into the microphones of reporters, laying all the woes of the world on the shoulders of failed pilots that came before him.
The way he’s doing right now.
“...they’re decommissioning the Jaeger Program because of mediocre pilots. It’s that simple.” Chuck Hansen says it to the camera so confidently that anyone watching must find it to be true. They must feel it in their bones. It’s so pointed that even Raleigh feels a bit offended. The brat is talking about pilots like him. “That’s Striker Eureka’s tenth kill to date. A new record.”
Ten Kaiju kills. The kid has a lot to be proud of, but there is a fine line to cross into sheer arrogance.
Chuck Hansen and the word ‘humble’ do not travel in the same circles, as it were.
The reporter on the television is getting ever closer to the young pilot, asking desperately, “You’re still going to Hong Kong? Even in a time like this?”
All around Raleigh the construction team is watching the television numbly, still feeling down after seeing the same wall they are constructing now get decimated in Sydney. The air is icy and their breath hangs like storm clouds as they stare at the tv. Raleigh barely feels the inhospitable cold that he is so used to.
In fact, he doesn’t feel much of anything these days. Everything is a blur when one is at rock bottom. Work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat times a hundred. Without his brother, Yancy, nothing has ever felt worthwhile.
The world stopped turning for Raleigh years ago.
Chuck Hansen’s brash Australian accent echos loudly in the warehouse, seeping out of the television speakers like an unwanted omen that Raleigh wishes he could just ignore. “Well, orders are orders. What else am I supposed to do?” Chuck levels the cameraman with a nasty glance and places a rude hand over the camera lens. “Get outta my way.”
Raleigh wonders how the guy fits his massive ego into the pilot seat beside his father. Is there any room in the Conn-Pod for Herc? Christ, what a hot cannon.
Herc Hansen isn’t a man for blustering or arrogance. He’s distant, resolute. It grinds Raleigh’s gears, watching the long admired senior pilot take a backseat to his blowhard son on live television.
It’s clear to Raleigh -and probably anyone with ears and eyes- that Herc didn’t raise a son. He spawned an entitled monster that’s probably never heard of the word no.
Raleigh looks away from the television, refusing to feel guilty about being a pilot who left the Rangers. He refuses to let Baby Hansen’s words dress him down, make him less. Raleigh did his time. He served, he sacrificed-
Bitterness builds inside of him. What does that odious little brat know about sacrifice? Raleigh can still feel the ghostly remnants of his brother’s mind, an echo in his skull that once belonged to Yancy.
{ripping, screaming, tearing, agony, an empty hole in his mind where his brother used to be}
Outside the worksite warehouse there’s a loud commotion, pulling Raleigh from his dark musings. He looks out at the snow, the barren cold, watching as a helicopter lands. Somehow, Raleigh knows exactly who it is.
The PPDC Marshal stands proud in the Alaskan chill, pristine in his overcoat as he exits the aircraft. “Mr. Becket,” he says, voice crisp with command. He is as regal as ever, proud and upright as a stone. The expression on his face gives nothing away. “Can we talk?”
Oh, boy. Here we go, Raleigh thinks, a wave of exhaustion falling over him. This world is making him so, so very tired. He thought he was done with the Rangers, with the Jaegers, and he never wants to share his mind with another person ever again-
“You’re the last of the Mark-III pilots.” The Marshal tells him solemnly, eyes searching across Raleigh’s face. “All the others are dead. The world needs you back.”
Swell.
“What makes you think I care?” Raleigh asks lightly, tilting his head with a bitter smile. “I don’t owe the world anything else, Marshal. I lost my brother, nearly lost myself too. I’m not willing to lose anything else in the defense of a lost cause.”
Marshal Stacker Pentecost glances around the frigid worksite, working his jaw subtly. He’s weighing the measure of the place. “If this is where you want to die, by all means, do continue building the wall Mr. Becket. It might survive an hour when the Kaiju come. Maybe less.” The look in his dark eyes thaws only a little. “But I figured that maybe you wanted the chance to fight for you. To go out swinging, if that’s what it takes.”
Ah. Raleigh’s not the vengeful sort. He hasn’t been quietly working construction all these years while harboring a secret burning rage to go kill Kaiju. No, he’s been subdued, going through the motions, trying to fly under the radar. Raleigh wanted to disappear after the destruction of Gipsy Danger and that’s precisely what he did.
He’s always prided himself on being easy-going, able to go with the flow or rebel against it if his moral code calls for it. Fighting is something he’s good at. Always has been.
Yancy wouldn’t want you wasting your life on this wall, he finds himself thinking.
…and just maybe he doesn’t want to die working construction on a wall that’s been proven to fail. Maybe he’d rather step into a suit and die in combat, to finally join his brother on the other side. A chance to go out in battle instead of a razor at his wrists, the self-violence he once considered years past when he was in a darker place.
…all you have to do is drift with another pilot to get there…
Turns out the world is in worse doo-doo than Raleigh imagined.
The first warning bell is that the PPDC science team is balls to the wall mad. One is a Kaiju groupie and the other has virtually no social skills to speak of. It’s also pretty clear that Newt Geislzer & Hermann Gottlieb have been married for years and no one has had the fucking decency to inform them.
The second glaring problem is that Marshal Stacker Pentecost has the absolute worst plan in the history of plans. Why? Because it’s a plan that has already been done. And failed. He wants to try a failed plan again. Raleigh could laugh and cry about it, but there really isn’t much time.
Thirdly, time. There isn’t much of that.
The fourth unpleasantry is that Herc and Chuck Hansen are here too, just flew in from the Down Under. Herc isn’t part of the doo-doo aspect of all this, but Chuck is flashing some venomous glances at Raleigh from across the damn Shatterdome and that can’t bode well. They’ve not even met and the bastard is looking at Raleigh like he intends to punch him in the dick for absolutely no reason other than the pleasure of doing it.
The only good thing here is that Mako Mori is absolutely Raleigh’s match and he has no doubt that they are meant to drift together. She’s studied him, his style. She knows more about Raleigh than Raleigh probably even knows about himself. Her love of restoring the Jaeger’s from his piloting era, the Mark-III’s, is even more endearing.
She’s capable. Smart. She doesn’t hold back and she’s not afraid of sharing her opinion. She’s had fifty-one drops in her simulator tests and fifty-one simulator kills. An impressive score. Raleigh knows she will be a stellar Jaeger pilot.
Even if Marshal Pentecost seems hellbent against her being one.
The mess hall is a strange affair, leaving Raleigh feeling like the new kid in a high school trying to figure out where to sit, who to join up with. Unfortunately, Herc Hansen doesn’t leave him much time to figure it out, dragging Raleigh to his table.
“Glad you’re on board, mate.” He claps Raleigh on the back. “We need every pilot we can get. I’m excited to do a drop with you again.”
Raleigh manages a weak smile, remembering Manila when he and Yancy fought alongside Herc and his previous co-pilot. “Same. It’s been awhile.”
In his peripheral, he’s aware that Herc has brought them to a table occupied by Chuck, who doesn’t look at either of them as they sit down, pretending to be busy with his bulldog.
With friendly intent, Herc gives Raleigh a nudge with his elbow. “You’ll get back in the swing of it fast enough. Don’t worry.” He pauses talking, noting that his son across the table has been completely ignoring them. “Raleigh, this is my co-pilot, Chuck. Chuck, this is Raleigh Becket.” No response. The brat doesn’t even look up, instead feeding his dog scraps as if Herc never even spoke.
Raleigh feels his eyebrows raise up at the blatant disregard. Wow. The attitude on this one clearly isn’t just reserved for reporters on tv.
Herc gets a pained expression on his face, looking more than a bit constipated as he stares at his son expectantly. “Chuck?”
Awkwardness rushes over Raleigh as he pokes at his food. Jeez, Herc has to practically beg his own son to acknowledge someone he’s being introduced to?
Coughing, Herc nudges his mean-spirited co-pilot under the table with his boot.
Chuck looks up from his dog, eyes finally pinning Raleigh in his seat with an uncomfortable intensity. There’s nothing friendly in his expression, even when he flashes a short-lived grin that looks like it belongs to a shark. “Oh. Ray, is it? Thought you got sunsetted somewhere for washed-up retirees.” He makes a mocking face. “Then again, you turned tail and ran like a coward. Guess that makes you more of a worthless traitor than a retired show pony, yeah?”
Raleigh feels his entire body tense up, blood pulsing hot. This is clearly not going to be a pleasant meal. “My name isn’t Ray. It’s pronounced-”
“I don’t actually care what it is,” Chuck retorts smoothly. “I can’t be fucked to remember it either, deadweight.”
Herc is suspiciously silent, as if too afraid of his own son’s vitriol to speak against him.
“You’re old news,” Chuck continues with his sharp grin, as if he’s basking in his own awfulness. “I don’t want you running defense for me on my bomb run; can’t trust ya worth a damn. Too bad they couldn’t resurrect a better pilot from the grave.” He sneers. “Instead, I get you.”
His bomb run? Wow, the star of Pentecost’s plan certainly holds himself in high esteem, doesn’t he? Where does Chuck Hansen store his crown? The stick up his ass probably leaves no room for it.
It’s easy to see that nothing Raleigh says is going to get him anywhere with this kid. It’s like yelling at a brick wall that happens to slap you back. Must be why Herc is so quiet; he knows it’s no use.
“I don’t imagine you think anyone here is good enough to cover you, Hansen.” Raleigh says it as measurably as he can, trying to not rise to the bait. “Must be tiring to watch your own ass all the time.”
“I don’t need to. Know why? Cuz, I’m the best there is, you wanker. Ten kills.” Chuck leans forward a bit to get in Raleigh’s face, trying to instigate something. Raleigh has seen his type in the bars before. “Top record. You all are just sad wannabes next to me. And if any of you losers bring me down, I’ll drop you myself.”
Holy smokes. Who needs the Kaiju for enemies when you can have Chuckles here?
Raleigh points off at a place behind Chuck’s shoulder. “Alright, this has been fun. How about you turn your turrets about and point your cannons elsewhere, Hansen. I’m just here to eat my dinner, not take artillery fire.”
Herc snorts into his drink.
“Whatever. I feel sorry for whoever has to pilot with the likes of you,” Chuck says sharply, looking at Raleigh dismissively. “Might end up dead like your brother.”
Raleigh nearly chokes on his food, hearing that brutal snipe. Pain lances him, right in his chest, his mind screaming with echoes of Yancy as he died. His fingers tighten around his fork and he imagines stabbing Chuck with it.
Standing up to leave, Chuck looks down at his dog and says, “Come on, Max, let’s go. It reeks of mediocrity in here.” He pauses in his stride to glare at his dad over his shoulder. “By the way. Herc’s my co-pilot. Not the other way around. Ain’t that right, Dad.” He says the last bit in a tone dripping with mocking.
When he leaves, Raleigh sighs in relief.
Herc looks down at his food miserably and Raleigh can feel the despair and disappointment radiating off him. Unable to keep his mouth shut, Raleigh asks, “How can you let him act like that, if you don’t mind me saying, Sir?”
Pushing food around his plate, Herc shakes his head. “It’s my fault. I was never…never around. After the death of his mother…well. And I can’t control him anymore. He’s not turned out as I hoped. I don’t know what he needs; he’s just impossible to deal with. Can’t even talk to him.”
He needs a beating, Raleigh thinks to himself, munching on his baked potato.
In the Kwoon, Mako is swift, skilled. A precise, elegant fighter that makes every movement look like art.
She’s better than Raleigh and instead of that intimidating him, it only makes him feel pleased. Proud of her, even.
Better yet, it’s clear that they are drift compatible in every way.
“I’ve found my co-pilot,” he tells Pentecost with a grin on his face, arm around Mako’s slighter shoulders as many of the other crews watch on with interest. Everyone wants to see the outcome of Raleigh Becket’s drift compatibility trials.
Stony faced, Pentecost stares him down with absolute displeasure in his dark eyes. “No. She’s not the one, Becket. She wasn’t on the list of pilot candidates. I will choose tomorrow.”
Mako sags with disappointment under Raleigh’s arm, all her happiness sliding away. Piloting is all she’s ever wanted and he’s compatible with her-
Is he blind? Raleigh stares after his commanding officer, aghast.
Hiding watery eyes, Mako stalks back off to her room, barely making time to throw her boots back on as she flees the scene, disappointment and dismay dripping off of her. Raleigh sighs; this is insanity. What is Pentecost’s deal?
It’s Raleigh’s great misfortune that Chuck catches him in the hallway, his bulldog Max leaned up against his leg like some sort of dubious sidekick. He smirks unkindly at Raleigh from under his baseball cap, dog tags displayed proudly on his chest. His voice, always a volume too loud and a note too harsh. “Poor, washed-up Ray. Are you really that butthurt over not getting to drift with your little girlfriend? Pathetic.”
“It’s Raleigh,” he corrects Chuck flatly, beginning to get irritated by the purposeful misnaming. He’s not in the mood for this. Frankly, he’s not sure he’s ever in the mood for this verbally abusive circus that Chuck likes to run. “And don’t drag Mako; with her simulator scores and her capability with me, there’s no reason for this. Pentecost is making a mistake.”
A rough laugh meets his ears in reply.
“Ohhh, there’s a reason for it. I know. Know why I know?” Chuck tilts his head a bit, eyes glinting a hard grey under the brim of his cap. Never quite the same color, always changing. “Cuz I went to Academy with her, yeah? And I can tell ya that she has no business being in a Conn-Pod. For various reasons.” He gestures at Raleigh, poking him in the chest rudely. “And neither do you. Damaged goods are damaged goods, know what I’m saying? You can take the ‘warning: broken’ label off, but it don’t change a damn thing underneath.”
Damaged goods. The words cut deep, deep under all the numb Raleigh has tried to embody these past few years after feeling his brother die next to him in the most violent of ways.
Raleigh swallows hard, clenching his fists at his side. He shouldn’t punch this brat out, no matter how much he would like to. No matter how much Chuck Hansen deserves a good beat down. “Man, what is your fucking problem with me? Seriously. Or do you just have a hard-on this big for everyone?”
There’s a hint of red that crosses the bridge of Chuck’s nose, dusting over his cheeks. His jaw twitches, but he recovers fast enough, going a new angle like a rabid dog.
Chuck’s voice gets loud and derisive, as if he’s been dying for Raleigh to ask why he can’t stand him and he wants everyone in the vicinity to know. “You’re a disappointment. A washed up has-been. A coward who turns his back on everyone counting on ‘im. A fuckin’ disgrace to the Rangers, that’s what you are. You’re a nothing. That’s why, Raaay.”
If he calls him Ray one more time…
Nope, nope. Keep it cool. Don’t. Don’t give him the response he wants. You know his type…and you know he thrives on negative reactions.
The words are cruel, pelting Raleigh like stones. He stands his ground, because he’s never been one to back down. He won’t start a fight, but he will finish one. “Yeah. You’re right. I left. I cracked and bent so I wouldn’t damn well break entirely. I couldn’t do it anymore, after what I lost. Maybe I’m not the right man for this job. We’ll find out soon.” He makes to step around the smug asshole, hating the self-satisfaction on Chuck’s face at Raleigh’s response.
Something dark and ugly rises to the surface inside of him, seeing that look. Something he thought he buried back all those years ago when he wondered what a blade would feel like opening his veins. “I may be a has-been, but I know something you don’t.”
The pale, sharp grin only gets wider. Chuck is like a Cheshire cat with wicked eyes. He thinks he’s on top again, a king above his demeaned subjects. What is it about putting others down that gets this kid off? “Yeah? Impress me.”
Raleigh leans close and says softly, “I know what it’s like to die in a Conn-Pod. I can still feel the memory of Knifehead’s claws shoving through his flesh. What it felt like when his ribcage splintered and broke. I hear the way his mind screamed, as if it were my own. When his heart exploded. Can you say the same? Would you be strong enough to get back in if you did?”
That nasty, self-confident grin fades on that handsome face, just a little.
{“I’m dead,” Raleigh repeatedly told the nurses as they strapped him down, the agony in his voice filling the hospital room. They were quickly trying to address the severity of his wounds from the violent desolation of Gipsy Danger and no one could be certain of the state of his mind. “I’m not alive anymore!” He was screaming, burning on the inside, a black hole in his head. He was a corpse with a broken soul. “Just finish the job. End me. He’s gone. He’s gone. I died with him, I can’t-”
They plunged the needle in and he felt no more.}
Shoving the painful memory away, Raleigh leans down and pats Max on the head, getting a happy lick from the large bulldog before stalking off, ignoring Max’s silent owner.
The good news is, Pentecost ends up relenting when it comes to letting Mako pilot with Raleigh.
The bad news is…well. It’s bad. Like, apocalypse-grade bad.
The trial drift in the Conn-Pod between Raleigh and Mako doesn’t go well. In fact, anyone with a brain would call it an absolute disaster show.
“I’m sorry, I failed you,” she whispers to him as they stand together outside of Pentecost’s office afterwards, hearing Chuck Hansen ranting and raving about washed-up has-been’s and useless rookies who have no business running defense for him in this life or the next.
They almost blew up the Shatterdome with their mistake and everyone knows it.
Brushing the back of his hand against hers, feeling an echo of her mind against his, Raleigh replies softly, “It wasn’t your fault, Mako. You know it was me that messed up. I dragged you out of line with my…my baggage. I lost control.” The memory of his brother beside him, being torn out of the pilot seat by Knifehead had jolted him out of sync. The trauma taking the wheel and dismantling Mako along with it.
When she looks up at him, her eyes are like dark pools of sorrow. She feels failure too keenly. Raleigh understands; he’s been in her mind, just as she’s been in his. “You kept yourself from chasing the RABIT, Raleigh. I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop…”
“I want them gone! I don’t want them on my bomb run!” Chuck’s voice is getting louder and louder in Pentecost’s office and now Herc is yelling-
“Don’t blame yourself,” Raleigh tells her, trying to ignore the shouting happening in the office. Stupid fucking Chuckles and his self-important attitude. He acts as if the Pitfall bomb run exists only to fuel his glory and kill count. “It will be better next time.”
“Will there be a next time?” Mako asks him warily.
She not asking if there will be another time to drift; she’s asking if he even still wants to drift with her again. Raleigh understands what she hasn’t spoken aloud. “Yes,” he tells her simply, knowing she will understand his vague answer as well. The drift has linked them in ways that can never quite be explained, though it’s like reading between the lines.
The door to Stacker Pentecost’s office slams open as Chuck steps out into the hallway, fuming, his blood running hot. “You stay there,” Herc yells at him before shutting the door again to converse with Stacker.
The moment Chuck sees both Raleigh and Mako, he turns all his anger on them with laser beam precision. Oh, joy; Chuckles is firing on all cylinders today.
Everything Chuck throws at them is nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing worth starting a fight for. He likens Raleigh to garbage that needs to be taken out and Mako to a worthless idiot who allows her sad past to rule her, but then he goes too far-
Chuck finishes his tirade with a derisive look at them both. His Australian accent is brash, adding to the harshness of his words. “Here’s the thing, losers. Someone needs to put you bitches on a leash.”
Those are fighting words. No doubt about it. Chuck is trying for a reaction -he always is- and Raleigh isn’t about to let this insult slide; no one calls Mako a bitch and gets away with it. Screw military decorum. Someone needs to take this brat in hand and teach him a lesson… and if that someone has to be Raleigh, so be it.
If Chuck’s father won’t discipline him, someone has to fucking step in, because this is out of hand.
Raleigh throws the first punch and Chuck’s head snaps back in the most satisfying of ways. The egotistical shit almost seems shocked that someone actually dared to hit him. His eyes darken into a piercing green as he evaluates what’s just transpired.
Has…for crying out loud, has no one ever smacked this kid around? Raleigh’s been in more bar fights than he can count!
Barely a second passes before Chuck body-slams him into a wall and starts throwing punches into Raleigh’s ribs with ruthless precision. Raleigh grunts in pain, struggling to gain the upper hand again. Alright, so the bastard has the bite to back up his bark…
It’s not much of a beautiful dance between them. It’s more of a barroom brawl with snarls and growls and a lot of wild punches thrown here and there.
Chuck fights the way he talks; completely unrestrained and without manners. Dirty, even. They seem evenly matched in strength and speed, though Chuck is more hot-headed, throwing himself into the fight with emotion rather than calculation.
Raleigh actually sees stars from one particularly tough whack to his cheekbone, a flash of pain.
“Apologize to Mako,” Raleigh demands when he gets a few hard hits in, sending Chuck down to one knee.
Those greenish-tinted eyes glitter up at him as Chuck touches his mouth and spits blood. “Blow me.” Without missing a beat, he slams his fist into Raleigh’s face again, not sorry in the slightest.
Raleigh grabs the younger man and swings him against the wall, smashing him against one of the pipes. Chuck yells out in pain, livid, baring his teeth in a snarl before tackling Raleigh to the ground.
He pins him there, snarling as Raleigh struggles under his broad weight, “You fight like a bitch too, Raaah-leigh. Gonna build your way outta this one, eh?”
Raleigh headbutts him, causing Chuck to sit away with a groan, but at least it shuts him up for a moment.
Hauling himself to his feet, Raleigh cracks his neck idly. He doesn’t let emotion consume him, not in a fight like this. The more emotional one gets in a fight, the less control one has. “Should I be flattered that you have it out for me this much?” They have an audience now in the hall, so Raleigh lightens his tone into a joke. “I feel singled out.”
Face completely red with rage, Chuck punches at Raleigh again with a mean right hook that Raleigh anticipates and catches, using Chuck’s hefty momentum against him, getting him in a headlock on the ground.
“Let go of me, you drongo!” Chuck is thrashing like a snake in Raleigh’s grasp and-
A door bangs open.
“ENOUGH!” Pentecost yells as he storms into the hallway, taking in the mayhem with distaste on his face.
Herc gets a hold of his vicious rattlesnake of a son and hauls him away from Raleigh, hissing at him to behave for five fucking seconds.
Raleigh opens his mouth to complain, but Pentecost points a finger at him. “Not a word out of you, Becket.” He then looks to Herc, gesturing for him to come close. “You though. We need to finish our chat.”
“Right,” Herc says sharply, giving Chuck a fierce look. “We’re precariously short on pilots and we need to make some choices here, Stacker.”
Raleigh doesn’t like the sound of this. What choices? He glances at Mako and she makes a face that says she has no idea where this is going either.
Pentecost shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Miss Mori is too inexperienced to pilot in battle-“
“But, she’ll be safer with me.” Herc stands by Pentecost, face solemn, realizing his son is glaring holes into his spine, shocked by his words. “I can drift with anyone, remember? I'm easy-going. She won’t be at risk and it will give her experience before Pitfall.”
“…and what about Chuck?”
There’s an uncomfortable pause. Both leaders turn to gaze at the bloodied pilot. Raleigh gets a terrible, sinking feeling in his gut. This is not leading anywhere good, is it? Herc and Stacker start talking under their breath to each other, but Raleigh catches the end of it.
“We all know that Becket fell out of sync first. He’s a bit rusty at piloting, it’ll be fine, Stacker. Chuck will keep the lad in line. He’s…ah…got a strong grip.”
Keep him in line?! Raleigh makes a face of horror. Hell will freeze over before he gets in a Conn-Pod with that egotistical dildo! “Whoa. Oh, no.” He points at Chuck, who is staring at the wall as if it has suddenly become very interesting. “Me and him are not happening.”
“Your input is not required, Mr. Becket.” Pentecost sounds utterly unamused, as always.
“You can’t do that!” Chuck snarls in outrage, blood washing out of his face in a rush. “I won’t have him in my Jaeger-”
“Don’t worry. You’re going in his,” Pentecost replies coolly, his eyes belaying his irritation at them both.
It’s like a bomb has just been detonated. The hallway goes silent as the grave. These words seems to make Chuck’s mind explode into bits, his eyes sparking with the fires of hell, if those fires were livid emerald. “You can’t stick me in that goddamn rust bucket! You’re making a huge mistake. I’m a fucking Ace Pilot.” Chuck’s tone ticks up precariously, voice cracking. “You can’t do this to me, Marshal-”
Numbness creeps over Raleigh. This is actually happening. He’s going to have to let that little monster in his head. It feels like baring his throat to a tiger.
I can’t, I can’t do it again. Mako was fine, but God, not him -
“I just did. You could do with some humility, Ranger Hansen.” Leveling them all with a displeased glare, Pentecost strides away with measured steps, his voice echoing down the hall. “Dismissed. The lot of you. There’s a war on, in case you didn’t realize.”
Mako gently pulls Raleigh away from the gathered group, wanting to get his cuts checked over in medical. She glances at his knuckles, making a pout with her mouth at the busted state of them. “Raleigh, you shouldn’t have fought him-”
“Well, someone had to,” Raleigh mutters back to her fondly, even though his mind is still reeling with disbelief.
In the backdrop, Herc looks like he wants to smooth things over, as if he wants to settle Chuck’s ruffled feathers, to fix how bent out of shape he is by being knocked down a peg. “Son-”
“Don’t fucking touch me, old man.” Chuck yanks away from Herc’s seeking hand, causing his father’s face to fall in disappointment and hurt.
Raleigh almost pities Herc Hansen, but the man brought this on himself.
~
On the way to the medical bay, Raleigh asks Mako, “So, you grew up with him?”
“Hn. In a manner of speaking,” Mako says with a bit of displeasure twisting her mouth. “We went through the Academy together. I’ve known Chuck a long time.”
“Has anyone, at any given time, ever told that kid ‘no’? Has he heard it or is that just a foreign concept? Until now, anyway.”
Mako shrugs and a ghost of a grin flickers over her mouth. “I think much of his fame and success has eliminated that word from his life. He let fame get to his head. And Herc feels guilty about the death of Chuck’s mother, so…”
Releigh leans against her as they turn the corner, comforted by the feel of her smaller frame beside his. He’ll miss her in the drift. There are parts of her that are dark and ravenous, bloodthirsty for revenge…but the stronger part of her is serene. Beautiful and calm. She will be an amazing pilot, given the chance. It is Raleigh’s fault that he pulled her out of sync, while experiencing his brother’s death again. “So, Chuckles has carte blanche to just walk on everyone, yeah? Swell.”
“Chuckles?” Mako repeats incredulously, her midnight hair shifting with each step she takes. “Oh, Raleigh, do not call him that to his face!”
If this is punishment, Raleigh supposes he deserves it for almost blowing up the Shatterdome when he drifted with Mako.
As with everything, Chuck swaggers into the Conn-Podd of Gipsy Danger as if he owns her. It’s not even his ride and he comes in hot, mouth busting off all sorts of awful at the crew getting them strapped in.
It makes Raleigh feel sick, seeing Chuck placed in Raleigh’s old seat. Raleigh’s left arm suffered too much nerve damage in the battle against Knifehead, so now he must take his brother’s spot in the Conn-Pod. Which is equally disturbing.
Raleigh is not amused with Chuck's attitude already. “Let’s just get this over with. Strictly business, yeah?”
The younger man looks at him as if he’s said something especially stupid. “What else would it be?” Chuck’s voice turns into a drawl as he gives a quick smirk, “Orders are orders, Raaah-leigh. I promise not to laugh at your fizzer of a life.” His eyes travel up and down Raleigh in a dismissive fashion. “You’re probably a boring old sack anyway.”
Raleigh rolls his eyes and groans. This is what nightmares are made of!
From the Command Center, Tendo’s voice comes over the loudspeaker, announcing the neural handshake about to begin for the trial. Raleigh feels sweat drip down his spine, nerves racing, mouth going dry.
Raleigh’s been through some shit in his time, but nothing prepares him for drifting with Chuck Hansen. It’s not so much what he sees -because he does get snippets- but rather how it feels.
Drifting with his brother Yancy had been comforting. Their minds, feeling as if standing shoulder to shoulder comfortably in a chaotic room. The world narrowed to them and their purpose. Neither one forceful or putting undue pressure on the others mind. Raleigh and Yancy blended in a way that was simplistic. Full of trust and mutual respect. Love.
Mako had been like water. Solemn and strong, flowing beside him. Cool and refreshing, yet slipping through all the cracks, her memories too strong, her emotions too consuming. She was the ocean. Beautiful and eternal; if only Raleigh hadn’t messed up and thrown her into her own pit of trauma. The ocean can be hard to control, when it rages. Despite this, Raleigh enjoyed his drift with her; she was much like him.
But then, there’s Chuck Firecracker Hansen.
For such a fiery personality, Chuck is surprisingly dark. He’s a void. The abyss staring back. He’s a black hole that grasps and tries to suck in everything around him as if he wants to claim dominion over it. Controlling and gloomy and in charge.
Baby Hansen’s brain space is just too fucking much and Raleigh wants no part of it, but he’s got no choice.
{ …Staring down at a coffin, it’s empty, there’s no body inside, there was no body to recover…pain : anguish : pain : anger :hate…this is Herc’s fault…
….Herc is never around, too busy...no support…depression:loneliness:abandonment…doesn’t notice his son…
Pictures of his favorite Jaeger mech’s line the walls of his room. Eventually, he tears them all down as one by one they fall. Crash and burn.
…Raleigh’s face appears on tv, big bright sloppy smile. Gipsy Danger is in the background, and he’s so cool:hero worship:excited...but then Raleigh’s gone, ran away, washed up, useless, traitor-
Chuck steps into his own Jaeger and saves his city. Everyone screams his name. The adoration is intoxicating. The power thrills him. Where his father never noticed him, now everyone does…
There’s women. Lots of women and grasping hands. Late nights, blurred faces. Jaeger Pilot groupies, and no, it’s all easy, but he never kisses on the lips, because he feels nothing at all-}
That glimpse of very old hero worship sticks in Raleigh’s gut, but he can see that it’s the sort that’s gone all wrong, darkened by resentment, weighed by disappointment so heavy it could drown a person.
He wonders what memories Chuck can see of his. Probably lots of Yancy. Life constructing the wall in Alaska. Maybe some Mako, because she is fresh in his mind. Perhaps even his distaste for Chuck. Hopefully he doesn’t see memories of Raleigh at his worst, in a hospital bed, begging for death, convinced he’s already dead, contemplating killing himself-
If this bothers Chuck, he doesn’t let on, because the sync completes as if he’s batted their inner drama away with his hand, something Raleigh has never felt someone do.
Tendo’s voice comes through their speakers from LOCCENT. “Alright, look at that! Neeeew boyfriiieends. Party time! Neural handshake complete. Sync is holding, but Raleigh, you are wavering, don't, no, don’t lose it again-ah. Nevermind. Nicely done holding him there, Chuck. All good.”
No, it’s not all good.
Chuck’s grip on Raleigh is unlike anything he’s ever felt in the drift. Ever. It’s like having a strong hand on the back of his neck, forcing him to watch something with his eyelids peeled open. It’s like being tied into the saddle of a runaway horse, racing off at breakneck speed. It’s like having his hand held, but by someone who is holding far too tight with no intention of ever letting go.
This isn’t just drifting. This is Chuck once again trying to prove who is boss…and Raleigh doesn’t like it.
Every moment Raleigh feels like he might fall out of sync, caught by an old mental scar, the narcissistic perfectionist next to him holds Raleigh together with sheer willpower alone. It feels controlling, rather than protective, the way it would have felt with his brother.
This strength doesn’t mean that Chuck is free of mental baggage. Oh no. Far fucking from it. It just means that Chuck knows how to hold a good neural link despite whatever trauma might be floating around between them. A nifty skill to have.
Raleigh wonders if Chuck and Hercules Hansen are universal drifters because they’re both emotionally distant and unavailable as human beings.
His heart races and his mind begins to spin again. He feels contained, as if he’s in a cage. Raleigh wants out-
“Chill, Ray.” Chuck drawls from beside him, feeling Raleigh’s twisting emotions through their link. “This isn’t even the real thing. Don’t get your knickers in a twist, ya bloody girl.”
“Ease up a bit, would you?” Raleigh shrugs his shoulders as if trying to shake something loose. “Feels like you’re shoving your whole damn arm up my ass and playing me like a sock puppet.”
His gasoline-for-veins co-pilot snorts. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Raah-leigh?”
“Guilty.” Raleigh shoots back with a weary smile. He can play fast and dirty with his jokes.
The sight of his smile makes the mental grip ease, oh so slightly. Huh. Weird.
After a few more even breaths, Raleigh feels his heartrate shift; it tags along with Chuck's, the steady beat in the back of his mind, the echo of someone else in his skull. Their brains are beginning to become convinced that they are, in fact, one being. Which feels completely slimy, considering this is Chuck Hansen. He imagines Tendo is looking at their vital signs in the Command Center, seeing even their blood pressures align.
“Gentlemen slash boyfriends, as fascinating as your conversations are, I’d love for you both to perform a few movements so I can continue to test your neural link.” Tendo sounds like he’s trying to hold back laughter.
So, they move the arms, test out different features, see how in sync they are as they control the giant Jaeger. It’s not bad. It isn’t awful when they’re focused on doing something, even though occasionally they do not agree on what to do.
Yancy and Mako always found ways to agree. Chuck likes to find ways to disagree.
“Left arm, forward punch-”
“No, right arm, strike.”
“I’m in charge, old man.”
“Excuse me?” Raleigh squawks.
Tendo sounds vaguely exasperated as he comes back over the loud speaker. “The point is to fight together, boys. Not each other.”
Tell that to this jerk, Raleigh thinks.
Motherfucker, I can hear you, Chuck replies through their link, sour.
Can we just function? Be the professional you claim to be! Raleigh snaps back. I’m fucking trying here, man. But you make it hard.
Chuck doesn’t reply, but the next time they do a movement for Tendo for metric purposes, Chuck doesn’t fight him. His mental grip on Raleigh is strong, but softens in a way that is less overpowering.
The fact that he’s impossible to ignore is mostly the problem, because Raleigh would like to not feel Chuck Hansen in his head like a blanket.
It’s finally over after two very long hours.
Tendo disengages the neural link on his end, and before it even has time to fully cycle down, Chuck is gone. He's huffing out of the pilot seat, sauntering off as if he can't wait to get away from Raleigh, lording over the techs as he goes to get out of the gear. He leaves Raleigh behind fast, so fast that Raleigh wants to accuse him of being a coward for once. The disconnection is so sudden that it leaves Raleigh's confused brain spinning, trying to adjust to where it believes Chuck should still be.
Raleigh should be relieved that they aren't connected anymore- and he is relieved! It feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, but even so, his mind feels too empty and far too quiet. It feels like he’s gone from living in a cramped studio apartment with another person shoved up against him at all times to being thrown in the middle of nowhere alone without a stitch of clothing to his name.
There’s a certain discomfort pinging in the back of his mind already and he knows that Chuck disconnected from him way too fast. Unprofessional. His chest hurts since his heart is no longer able to sync up with Chuck's and is attempting to do so in absentia. His body is out of whack, a full body shock from the very sudden abandonment. He feels dizzy and lightheaded. That idiot shouldn't have run off so fast, trying to get space between him and Raleigh.
They’ll be ghosting for a bit, which will be uncomfortable, but Raleigh is sure it will dissipate soon enough.
He hopes.
~
Shortly after this whole engagement, Raleigh corners Herc in one of the construction bays with an aghast expression on his face. “Herc, what the fuck?” Is that what drifting with Chuck is like all the time?
A wave of vertigo strikes and Raleigh feels green. Ghost drifting has never been this bad for him-
Hercules takes one look at his face and winces a bit, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Ah, the lad is a bit much when he wants to be-”
“A bit much?” Raleigh says flatly. “It was like being shoved into a medieval iron maiden, Herc. Even if I wanted to chase the RABIT, I wouldn’t have been able to.”
Throwing down his wrench with a sigh, Herc leans up against the leg of Striker Eureka, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Here’s the thing, Becket. I’m the universal drifter, yeah? Can drift with anyone. Chuck’s my son. I know I never did right by him, I know what sort of bloke he’s turned into…yeah, I know, don’t make that bloody face at me, Becket. He’s a right shit. Fact remains, he’s as close to universal as I am. He’s my blood. He might not be a walk in the park to drift with, but he does know how to keep his co-pilot from getting out of sync. He’s got a strong grip.”
“Strong is putting it lightly.” Raleigh shakes his head, frustrated by the situation. He still feels flickers of Chuck against his mind, his own brain searching for the severe connection again. His brain still hasn't caught up to the fact that there is no neural link to interface with now. “I don’t think I can do it again.”
He would rather toss himself off the top of the Sitka Wall.
“Sorry, lad. You’re gonna have to. Mako did well with me on our trial, but she needs another test before she goes with you. I know you’re likely the better pair, but you both have strong trauma that pops up in the drift. Putting you together…well. Pentecost needs to be sure you won’t get lost in each other’s mess during Pitfall. Look at this as practice.”
Raleigh groans. “Your son is a menace and he hates me.”
A bitter little smile shakes Herc’s mouth. “Raleigh, you know he doesn’t hate you. My boy, he won’t say nice things out loud. But you’ll know him in the drift. I know he was probably being all big and bossy with you today, but eventually you’ll see him a bit more, when he relaxes. And what you do with that information is up to you.”
Sounds nice in theory, but Raleigh wishes he didn’t have to know Chuck at all.
“How was it?” Mako asks him after dinner, sitting alone with him outside, looking up at the stars above.
Raleigh tries to not feel the nagging feeling at the back of his neck, the flutter of uneveness in his chest. His heart is offbeat, still trying to link to Chuck. Probably not fucking good, maybe he should go to medical…
“I like you better. No contest,” he assures Mako, wrapping his arm around her shoulders so that she can stay warm against the ocean chill. "I heard it went well with Herc?"
She nods slowly, staring off at the dark. "It was easier than our first trial. Herc's very direct, not emotional. Very mission focused. But, he isn't you." Her voice softens, as if embarrassed. "You feel like home. As if you're me, but not. If that makes sense."
The corner of his mouth tilts up into a short smile as he nods. It makes complete sense, because he understands exactly what she means. When he and Mako drifted, they were harmonic for few good moments. They felt singular and happy. At peace. Content with one another. At least until Raleigh's memories knocked him over and sent Mako falling into the most traumatic event of her life; the destruction of her city, the death of her entire family, and the Kaiju Onibaba that chased her through the streets of Tokyo while she screamed and cried, believing her own death had come.
"Drifting with Chuck is like going to a restaurant and ordering the King Chuck dish with Extra Clingy Chuck on the side," Raleigh says dryly. "Like, trying to walk around with his bulk on your back as he talks shit in your ear the whole time. All while you have to be reminded of the fact that he resents his dad more than should be humanely possible."
Mako snorts. "I'm not sure anyone needs extra Chuck in their life." Her expression turns solemn. "The only time I felt emotion from Herc was when he thought of Chuck. He misses his son so much. I almost missed Chuck for a good minute after I got out of the drift with Herc. It was that strong of a feeling."
Raleigh makes a face; his brain is missing Chuck right now and it's not enjoyable. Nausea grows stronger, his body rebelling, the ghost drift not alleviating at all.
Shit, this better go away, he thinks.
It doesn't.
A phantom ache in his chest wakes Raleigh up.
He sits up sharply, grasping at his chest, coughing briefly in shock.
It feels like something heavy is sitting on his lungs. Grumbling, miserable and tired, he wanders the quiet halls of the Shatterdome, noting how different it is when it isn’t crawling with hundreds of people.
Everyone should be asleep at this point. Resting up for whatever goat rodeo comes next.
He needs to go to medical, should have done it way earlier, Chuck went and messed him up good with that crazy strong grip in the neural link, along with fucking off immediately after, not letting their brains adjust, stupid brat-
As he’s quickly walking through the dimly lit hallways, making his way past one of the bridges beside Striker Eureka, Raleigh nearly trips on his face, yelping loudly before barely catching himself against the overlook railing.
Confused and absolutely cranky, feeling like death, Raleigh looks down and finds a sloppy bulldog staring up at him seriously from where it’s lying like a lapdog across Chuck Hansen’s chest. He can’t see Chuck’s eyes, hidden beneath the brim of his cap, but his mouth is pulled into a familiar frown.
Well, shit.
That wicked mouth starts moving, voice monotone. “You almost squashed my dog, you bludger.”
“I was aiming for you,” Raleigh replies coolly, now starting to understand why it felt like something heavy was sitting on him. Max isn’t a light dog; he’s got to be nearly sixty pounds just slumped like a limp noodle on Chuck.
…and Chuck is stroking Max's back, lying still under him. A boy and his dog. Hanging out alone on an overlook bridge within the Shatterdome, the eerie green nightlights from the mech bays casting down on them. Striker Eureka’s metal beauty just a few feet away, shining with power. Chuck Hansen's famous Mark-V Jaeger; the fastest ever made. He's upset about having to pilot Raleigh's Jaeger, absolutely pissed-
The irritable feeling seems to be growing at Raleigh's spine, as if his presence has reminded Chuck about why he's so mad in the first place. He's feeling Chuck's emotions and they aren't even in a goddamn link, haven't been for hours. Nope, no siree, this ghost drift is total garbage and it has to go.
There’s more than one way to fix ghost drifting and Raleigh is sick and tired of feeling like crap after that wretched drift experience. He slowly sinks down to the ground about a foot away from the lounging pair, leaning his back against the railing.
Chuck stares at him suspiciously, his brawny arms still wrapped around Max’s bulky bulldog form. “What are you doing?”
“Sitting.”
“Yeah. I see that. Why’re ya sitting here.”
Raleigh rubs his face miserably. “We’re ghost drifting. Didn’t you notice?”
A sullen pause. Then, “Sounds like a you problem.”
“Oh, so you enjoy vertigo and having your heart skipping beats and shit? Come on, pull the other.” Raleigh instinctively presses his boots against Chuck’s, seeking some sort of connection-
Chuck shifts his feet away.
“Pain is just weakness leaving the body, Raah-leigh.” Of course, right, what a Chuck thing to say.
“Well, I happen to not be friends with pain. Unlike you. So, just sit and let my brain try to catch up to the fact that you are not in fact, my brain.”
“I’m not your brain? Damn, Ray, how is that possible, how did I not know this-”
Ugh.
The only way to wrangle Chuck is to unseat him with things that make him uncomfortable. And Raleigh has an idea of what that is now. “We could talk about what I saw in the drift. About me-” Yeah. They should talk about how Chuck felt personally let down by Raleigh leaving the PPDC.
If he truly was one of Chuck’s favorite pilots as a boy, and all this resentment towards Raleigh is because of-
Chuck’s chest rumbles aggressively. “Rule number one, Raaah-leigh. We don’t talk about the drift. We don’t talk about shit. I don’t do that touchy-feely emotional crap you wanna get into. Talk to your gal pal for that. Ah, fuck-” He cuts himself off, digging his fingers into his forehead as if his head is killing him. Oh yeah; he's feeling sick. He's feeling the ghost drift just as bad as Raleigh is. It's probably why he's out here, feeling sorry for himself.
Screw this, Raleigh is the experienced one here, he just needs to take charge and fix the problem. He grabs Chuck’s thick wrist, feeling the touch of their bare skin, the strong, unsteady pulse in his veins.
Raleigh’s palm tingles, feeling Chuck under his hand. Alive and fiery. Awareness flickers within him; they've never touched without the intent of causing harm.
“What the fuck?!” Chuckles explodes, just as Raleigh knew he would. “Who said you could touch-” Max yelps, shifting on his owner’s broad chest with the commotion.
“Be quiet, you little shit,” Raleigh mutters with no heat, changing his grip to hold Chuck’s hand, hanging on as if dealing with a crocodile. “Don’t let this get to your head. Contact helps ease off ghost drifting.”
“Bullshit, yer just fucking with me, ya fuckin' fairy-”
In response, he squeezes Chuck’s strong, calloused hand, keenly aware of their contact as if it were far more intimate. The ghostly feeling of being pulled in two directions in his head settles away when Chuck hesitantly squeezes his hand back. Raleigh’s palm feels too hot and Chuck’s hand is trying to crush his now, go figure-
But the nagging feeling of discomfort, of being ‘not all-together’ is fading away, settling behind Raleigh’s breastbone. He tilts his head and looks down at the younger man, noticing how Chuck’s face is averted.
“Feel better?”
Chuck’s jaw is tight. It’s hard to make him ever admit to anything, so it’s a small victory when he says softly, “Yeah.”
“Maybe this washed-up old man knows a thing or two, yeah?” Raleigh quips with a very small hint of smug. He needs to lord something over this brat. “Happened with my brother and I sometimes. We drifted great, but even we got stuck sometimes, afterwards.”
“Stuck?” Chuck asks, his voice still low. His breathing has slowed, Max rising and falling with the steady movement. His fingertips are pressing into the back of Raleigh’s hand, stroking. Raleigh doesn’t know if he even realizes he’s doing it.
He wonders if Chuck has ever held someone’s hand before. Doesn’t seem like the type. The brat doesn’t even kiss the women he takes to bed with him, based on what Raleigh glimpsed in the drift.
“Sometimes, our minds don’t realize we’ve disconnected after the neural link has been severed, so they constantly search for a response. So yeah. Stuck. Sometimes contact shakes it loose. Reminds us that we’re two people, not one.” It’s more intimate than it should be, but what could possibly be more intimate than sharing a mind?
“What if there’s nothing to connect with?” Chuck asks dryly.
Pain lances Raleigh, reminding him of his brother. Of how Raleigh’s mind was convinced of his own death afterwards, being so closely connected to Yancy when he was torn from the Conn-Pod. He wonders if Chuck chose the words on purpose to try and knife him, to push him away.
Chuck doesn’t like intimacy; it terrifies him.
“You can let go now,” he tells Chuck, loosening his grip. “I think our minds have recognized we’re not the same people anymore.”
As if burned, Chuck drops his hand and jerks it away. “Yeah, whatevah, you dusty sap. Grossing me out.”
Sighing Raleigh gets to his feet, no longer feeling nauseous and off balance. His heart is beating because it wants to beat to its own rhythm; it isn’t seeking to sync with Chuck’s anymore.
“Go to bed, Hansen. It’s late.”
“Fuck off, yeah? You’re not my father,” Chuck replies icily. His broad, brawlers hands run down the spine of his dog, as if seeking to soothe the already calm beast. Or to calm himself.
Daddy issues. That’s the other thing Chuck likes to wallow in. Shaking his head, Raleigh walks back towards his room. “No. I’m not.”
~
When he gets back in bed, he tries not to worry about having to drift with Chuck Hansen again, because he knows the plan is for them to pilot for real during the next Kaiju drop.
The fact is, Raleigh has never ghost drifted this hard after anyone and he doesn’t know if he likes what it means. He doesn’t think he and Chuck are a good match up in the drift and Pentecost is a lunatic for trying to make them do it again.
…but the world is ending and apparently that means a man doesn’t get to choose who his ride or die is.
~