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Chapter Text

(PROLOGUE)

This was it, then. Stacker Pentecost's final sacrifice, his last stand. A sense of calm swept over him, echoed in the Drift. He turned his head, met Chuck Hansen's eyes, green and pure and filled with nothing except admiration and the deepest respect. The feeling was entirely mutual.

It's been an honor, sir.

An honor indeed. For both of them. Their fingers paused on the switch. A lifetime of memories, of faces, passed between them in a moment – Obadel, Luna, Tamsin, Angela, Scott, even Max, and finally –

Mako. Herc.

As one, they flipped a second set of switches. Another wave of serenity passed over him, echoed again in the Drift, and as Chuck gave the nod, Stacker made another choice.

***

(CHAPTER ONE)

Dying, apparently, felt a lot like getting kicked repeatedly in the ribs. Stacker tried not to wince as he shifted on a truly uncomfortable mattress, but he was certain it was a losing cause. His entire chest area felt like someone had whaled on him with a cricket bat, and he was weak as a newborn kitten. But he was, as impossible as it was to fathom, breathing. Alive. At least, he hoped he was still alive, because if this was the afterlife, it left a lot to be desired.

He took another breath, waited out the pain until the worst of its edges had dulled to a muted throb. Definitely not dead, then. Death was supposed to be a surcease, sweet oblivion, a reunion with his sister and his parents and Tamsin, his reward for a job well done. This was...was this punishment? Penance for failure? His last act of contrition? Perhaps this was Purgatory, and he was simply waiting for his Final Judgment.

Actually, he wasn't really sure what this was. His thoughts were too blurry, felt like they were wrapped up in cotton batting, or were being filtered through gauze. Lyrics to a half-forgotten song from his childhood fluttered through his mind - look at earth from outer space - but he couldn't place who'd sung it or when he'd last heard it. He couldn't remember how he got here or where here exactly was.

He lolled his head back on the pillow and squinted to bring the room into some sort of focus. White walls, white sheets, an IV bag, a heart monitor. The infirmary, then. Had the cancer spread? Were his last days finally upon him? Which was when he noticed Mako slumped over on a chair by his bed, her head cradled on her arms, fast asleep. The bright blue of her bangs and the midnight black of her hair was a sharp contrast to the rest of the room.

He wondered how long she'd been sitting there, waiting for him to rouse himself. His little girl, he thought fondly, all grown up and looking after him now. How the times had changed. How very lucky he was to have found her all those years ago. His fingers twitched with the need to smooth her hair, but he couldn't even manage to lift his hand. What had happened? The last thing he remembered was –

"Chuck."

Mako's head lifted. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and that sleepy, dark-eyed gaze landed on him. "Sensei?" A cautious smile lit her face. "You're awake. I will get Doctor Seaver –"

She was already half up, but he stopped her with a small shake of his head. Even that took up far too much energy. "Sit, it's fine." It felt like he was shouting every word. There was an odd echo in his head that felt a lot like relief. But when he tried to focus on it, the feeling dissipated like mist.

She grabbed his hand, squeezed unresisting fingers. He tried to squeeze back, but couldn't. "How are you? How do you feel?"

"Like I just had a Kwoon session with both Kaidanovskys at once."

For a moment, he let the grief sweep over him, let himself truly mourn their loss. More casualties of a never-ending war, more sacrifices he'd had to make in order to protect the rest of the human race. For the first time in his life, he wondered if the choices he'd made – if sacrificing his bravest and brightest – had been worth it. No victory could possibly worth the price they'd all paid. So many lost. Too many.

"I cannot say I'm surprised," Mako said. "Your pod took quite a beating."

Pod...his escape pod. Which meant he'd survived the...what? What had he survived?

He strained himself, trying to remember. It started to slowly come back to him in dabs and dribbles, but there were still far too many blank spots. He'd co-piloted Striker Eureka with the Hansen boy. Operation Pitfall. There had been a... a nuclear blast. He and Chuck had detonated their payload to buy Gipsy enough time to seal the Breach.

"Tell me what happened," he finally said. He didn't want to push himself too much. Already, he could feel the dull edges of a headache trying to work its way towards his temples. "How long've I been out?"

"Just a couple of hours."

A couple of hours. Which was...encouraging. He'd thought for certain he'd lost at least a day or two. "And how did I wind up here?"

"We were airlifted out near the Mariana Islands." Her thumb swept over his knuckles, the touch light, soothing. "You were...it was touch and go for a little while, but they finally got you stabilized once we got back to the Shatterdome."

He heard what she wasn't saying as loud as if she'd shouted it. He had died out there in the Pacific. But he'd been brought back to life. Someone – or several someones – had saved him.

"Suppose I owe the EMTs a few thanks."

Her smile softened. "While I am certain they would appreciate your gratitude, it would be directed at the wrong people. You should be thanking Chuck."

"Chuck? Hansen?" Cocky, young, selfish Chuck Hansen had saved his life? He couldn't even fathom it, let alone picture it. He'd known Chuck since he'd been a grief-stricken child, brimming with rage and ablaze with a singular purpose. Chuck was many things – brave, impetuous, arrogant and strong – but unselfishness on such an intimate level wasn't in his blood. What possible greater strategic purpose could it have served for Chuck to save his life? They'd already completed their mission.

"Yes," Mako nodded, to his surprise. "He did all of the work, gave you CPR until the EMTs arrived."

"Chuck Hansen gave me CPR?" Maybe if he repeated it enough times, it would make some semblance of sense.

"For almost ten minutes," she confirmed. "Raleigh and I tried to spell him, but he was very insistent."

Well, well, would wonders never cease. Maybe there was more to Chuck than his brilliance in a Jaeger and his pride and anger outside of one. Shouldn't he know this already? After all, they'd Drifted together, he'd been inside Chuck's head – but everything was still too fuzzy.

"I suppose I'll have to thank him, then," he said.

"I am certain he will appreciate the words, even if he does not say so. You know how he can be." Mako placed her hand over his heart. Such delicate hands, he thought. They were the hands of an artist, a craftsman. Yet she'd chosen to use them to rebuild Jaegers, to pilot a Conn. To wield a sword in the name of vengeance. His brave, beautiful girl had grown into a bold warrior who could stand toe to toe with giants and monsters and come out on top.

"I do at that." Or thought he did. Now, he wasn't so sure, but that was a thought for another time. He looked her over, checking for any signs of injury. "And you? Are you alright? Is Mr. Becket?" he asked, belatedly realizing he'd yet to even think about Raleigh. He hoped he wouldn't have to mourn the loss of anyone else under his command.

"We are all fine," she assured him. "Raleigh gave us quite a scare, but he managed to eject his escape pod before Gipsy detonated."

"The Breach is sealed, then?" He felt foolish for asking, but he couldn't remember if that was something he should know or not.

"Oh yes." This time, her grin was impish, showed off the dimples he rarely got to see. "Thanks to you and Chuck, Mr. Becket and I were able to take down Slattern and use him to enter the Breach. The details can wait until you are ready, but the mission succeeded. We've all simply been waiting for you to wake up to properly celebrate."

He knew what she really meant. They'd all been waiting to see if he woke up, or if the trauma of piloting a Jaeger again would have proven too much for his compromised body to take. Quite frankly, he was more shocked than anyone that he wasn't dead. But, more importantly, he wondered why he hadn't stayed with Striker until the bitter end. A pilot never left their Jaeger unless there was no other option, and Striker Eureka may not have been his Jaeger, but he'd thought – he could have sworn he'd made the choice to die fighting. That he and Chuck had chosen to go down with the proverbial ship. He couldn't remember what had changed his mind, a prospect that, quite honestly, was more than a little frightening.

But he could try to puzzle over the missing hours later. Right now, his daughter was looking at him like he was a miracle, which he supposed wasn't far from the truth. And he'd cut off his own hand before he willingly gave her any reason to worry. He summoned what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "You can tell everyone I'm fine."

It might be a lie – it probably was a lie – but Stacker knew sometimes the lie was far preferable to an unwanted truth. And the truth was, it didn't matter that he was still somehow alive when he shouldn't be. At the end of the day, he was still dying a slow, painful death, just like Tamsin had before him. And no amount of CPR and stabilization and watching over him could do anything to stop the inevitable decay of his body betraying him.

***

The next time Stacker woke up, it was to see Hercules Hansen sitting by the bed, looking at him out of patient eyes that were an exact mirror of his son's. More green than blue, the color of the sea after a storm, and just as fathomless at times.

"That was a bloody stupid thing you and my boy did," Herc said without preamble. He looked like he'd aged at least five years in the last couple of days, and his hair, a light ginger that Chuck had also inherited, was sporting more grey and white in it now. Stacker figured he probably looked worse.

"I suppose you'd know from stupid ideas," Stacker finally said, even though he wasn't entirely certain what Herc was talking about. Something he and Chuck had done during Pitfall, no doubt, but he still couldn't remember a bloody thing after deciding to blow up Striker to buy Gipsy more time to complete the mission.

Clear a path for the lady...it's been an honor, sir.

Why couldn't he remember what happened after?

Herc barked out a short laugh. "Yeah, I reckon I would. But there's a reason why you're the Marshal and I'm just a pilot. I'm allowed to do stupid shite." He pointed at his arm, still bound in a sling close to his chest.

"Dunno that you've ever been just anything, Herc," Stacker said. "You're a stubborn, pigheaded, impulsive bastard, but you're still the best man I've ever known."

"Yeah, I reckon could say the same about you." Herc clamped his good hand over Stacker's, the grip strong. "Thank you."

Thank him? What had he done? "I don't –"

"For once in yer bloody life, just shut up and listen." Herc's eyes blazed with an inner fire. "Thank you for my son."

Stacker may not be able to remember exactly what it was he'd done to put that look on Herc's face, but he knew the terror of being a parent sending a child off to war. The helplessness of knowing if anything happened, the blame and burden would be yours and yours alone to bear. "I told you I'd bring him back to you."

"Yeah, you did." The way Herc said it, Stacker knew he hadn't believed that promise any more than Stacker had while making it. He just wished he could figure out what had happened.

"Should I ask how things are progressing with the U.N.?" Stacker asked, mostly to change the subject. Now that the Breach was closed, there would be political repercussions. He wasn't foolish enough to think that just because they'd saved the world they wouldn't have to deal with the inevitable fallout.

"Doc said not to excite you too much, so no, you probably shouldn't," Herc grinned. "Besides, it'll all be your headache again soon enough. I'm just holding down the fort for you until you get back on your feet."

"About that..." Yes, he'd grant he was alive against all odds, but there was the small matter of the fact that he was still dying, and the hours in Striker had surely only made his condition that much worse. He didn't feel like he was at death's door, but that didn't mean much. Tamsin had felt better right up until the bitter, heart-breaking end.

"Worry about all that mess tomorrow." Herc patted his hand awkwardly. "Get yer strength about you first."

"I suppose you're probably right." It seemed safer than arguing.

Herc stood, and offered something that Stacker thought was supposed to be a smile. "Soon as you're ready, we've got a chess match to finish."

"I look forward to it," Stacker said, and closed his eyes as another echo pulsed through him, fond and amused and happy, left him weak and dizzy. But he fell asleep before he could figure out where it was coming from.

***

"Knock, knock."

Stacker glanced up from his book (even a couple of days later, he still wasn't up for much – he could manage a few pages here and there before his sight went blurry around the edges) to see Chuck Hansen standing in the doorway. He was in sweatpants and a t-shirt, dog tags out, with his ever-present hat hiding light auburn hair that was always a touch unruly. Before Stacker could even ask why he was there, Chuck stepped into the room, held up a mesh grocery bag, and dropped to the chair by the bed.

Stacker took a moment to study him, to see for his own eyes how Chuck was recovering from whatever injuries he'd sustained. He was pleased to see that, despite looking paler than usual and sporting fading bruises along what Stacker could see of his arms and wrists, Chuck looked much like his usual hale and hearty self. He still had the look of a boxer to him, raw power and swagger, even sitting still, and his eyes were still the same ocean-green, held the same hint of mischief in them.

"Heard tale you were gonna be laid up for awhile, so I reckoned I'd drop by with a few refreshments to tide you over," Chuck said by way of greeting, and pulled out two cans of beer.

Stacker pushed himself up (he could admit, only to himself, that it took far too much strength for such a simple act), and stared at the cans. It was tempting. He could practically taste the bitterness of the hops on his tongue. But his ribs picked that moment to remind him that they weren't remotely pleased with him, and his hand dropped to the morphine drip by his bed instead. "Wish I could, but I dunno it would mix too well with the meds."

"More for me, then, I guess," Chuck said, and handed Stacker a bottle of water instead. "But we can't do a proper toast if you don't have anything to drink, now, can we?"

Proper toast? What was Chuck going on about? Stacker raised an eyebrow when Chuck fumbled in the bag again, then came up with a bag of crisps. "I thought you'd be with the others, out celebrating our victory." In fact, he'd sent Mako on her way not too long before to do just that. No sense in her missing out on all of the festivities just so she could watch him sleep. She'd tried arguing, but he'd been insistent.

Chuck huffed out a laugh, far from his usual sarcastic smirk. "I thought I was celebrating. Got beer and crisps, don't I?" He put his feet up on the edge of the bed for emphasis.

"Not what I meant, but if that's what this is, I suppose the next question is, why are you here and not with everyone else?"

"Co-pilots celebrate the end of a mission together," Chuck said simply. He tapped his beer to Stacker's water bottle. "So here's to cancelling the Apocalypse."

His own impassioned words, coming back to haunt him. Stacker had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time someone quoted that particular phrase in his presence. But Chuck seemed to mean it, so Stacker just raised the bottle to his lips and took a sip. He waited a beat, but the water stayed down. Another for the win column. "You look like you came through everything none the worse for wear."

"A few bruises and scratches, but I'm fit as a fiddle otherwise, thanks to you. Another few seconds, and I don't think it would have mattered that we weren't in Striker when she blew." Chuck smiled, dimples flashing as he took another crisp from the bag and crunched. "We got lucky. But, as my old man always says, better to be lucky than good sometimes."

Lucky. Stacker didn't feel particularly lucky, but perhaps that was also still the meds talking. "I've been told I have you to thank for the fact that I'm still among the living."

"What else was I gonna do, let you cark it on me after everything we'd been through?"

Mako had tried to warn him that Chuck was going to make this difficult, so the reaction wasn't entirely unexpected. But Stacker still persisted. "All the same, it was noble of you."

"Noble? Me? You know, for a bloke who's been in my head and who's known me most of my life, you're acting right thick," Chuck observed, his brows coming together in confusion. "You sure you didn't damage that noggin of yours?"

Trust Chuck to get to the heart of the matter in the bluntest way possible. "I do have a few blank spots, yes."

"Doesn't sound good. What's Doc Seaver say?"

"That it's normal. And I may or may not regain those memories."

Chuck winced in sympathy. "Not on, mate. Well, if you've got any questions about what happened and when, I'm sure we can all help fill in those blanks for you."

"You could answer one question for me."

Chuck popped another crisp into his mouth and made a c'mon gesture. "Shoot."

"You mind telling me why I'm here?" Ever since he'd opened his eyes to see Mako by his side, he'd wondered. He shouldn't be alive. By all rights, he should be vaporized along with Striker. For that matter, by all rights, Chuck should be dead right alongside him. Yet here they both were. Chuck especially looked perfectly fine, like this had been just another routine mission.

"Well, I'd spring you, but Doc said you needed a few days for observation on account of your condition, and I'm not sure even I'm foolish or brave enough to get on her bad side. She's a fierce 'un."

Chuck didn't look like he was being an ass on purpose, but Stacker growled all the same. "Why am I here, Ranger?"

Now Chuck smirked, infuriatingly wide and dimpled, and deeply, irritatingly familiar. "You know, I've heard staring certain death in the face can make a man wax all philosophical –"

"Charles Hansen –"

"Can it, Marshal. Only my old man gets away with calling me Charles or Charlie, and you ain't him." Chuck dropped his feet to the ground and leaned in to poke Stacker's chest. "You fucking well know why you're here, blank fucking spots in your memory or not, no matter how many drugs they've got you on. You're here because you couldn't bear the thought of your best friend losing his only kid and there was no way I was getting into an escape pod without you getting in one, too."

So that had been the way of it, then. Hard as it was to picture it, it did sound like something Stacker would have thought of. No parent should outlive their child.

"You should have left me to man the Conn. I'm dying already –"

The hard, sharp burst of anger spiking through him left him weak and breathless.

"Oh piss off, we've already had this discussion in the fucking Drift, and I'll be fucked if I'm doing it again after the fact." Chuck poked him again, harder this time. "You don't leave your co-pilot. Ever. First rule in the book, and you should fucking well know this, you probably wrote the bloody thing, and you taught the goddamn class on Drifting at the Academy. So, you're here because I'm here, and we're both here because we're partners now. So get fucking used to being back among the living, because I'd do it all over again and I bet you would, too."

Stacker felt another odd echo of...something, some vague emotion lurking just under the surface, but couldn't pin it down. Everything was still so nebulous.

It wasn't often he got schooled in quite such a thorough manner, much less by someone like Chuck Hansen. "You're going to be a pain in my arse about this partners thing now, aren't you?"

"Probably," Chuck replied, with a sip of his beer. "Pretty sure I've always been a pain in your arse, though, so I don't see what's changed."

Everything, Stacker wanted to say, but didn't. Because Chuck was right once again. Everything may have changed, but nothing had, as well. They may have Drifted together and they may have cheated death and the Fates and beaten the odds, but they were still both them at the end of the day. Still stubborn and much too prideful for anyone's peace of mind.

Stacker motioned for the bag, and hoped it meant that Chuck accepted his wordless apology when he passed it over without comment. They spent another few minutes munching on the crisps before Chuck finally spoke.

"So, whaddaya reckon happens next? Now that we've saved the world and all."

"I honestly don't know." For once, Stacker didn't have an answer. The U.N. Council had never spoken of victory and what came after, only of trying to survive as long as possible.

"Well, I'll be buggered," Chuck grinned, like the earlier argument had never even happened. "The great Marshal Stacker Pentecost speechless. I think that's worthy of a press release."

Stacker pointed a crisp Chuck's way. "Careful, Ranger. I could still bring you up on insubordination charges."

"Yeah, you could, but you won't," Chuck replied, confidently. "But you're right, fuck it, who gives a shit what comes next. Let's just enjoy the moment and the rest'll sort itself out. The future's got a way of doing that, so I'm told."

The future. At least someone would have one. "I suppose you're right at that."

"Tell you what, next time I come around, I'll sneak in Max. That should cheer you up."

"That's very generous of you."

If Chuck heard the sarcasm in Stacker's voice, he chose to ignore it. "Eh, he likes you."

"Your dog likes everyone," Stacker reminded him, with his own wry smile. "Case in point being how much he likes you."

Chuck grinned again, not at all insulted. "That just means he's got good taste is all."

"I see almost dying didn't dim your arrogance any."

"Not really arrogance if I can back it up, is it," Chuck said, and polished off his beer. He stood. "Keep the bag. I'll bring another next time."

In his own way, Chuck was trying. Stacker owed him the same courtesy. "Thank you."

Chuck touched the brim of his hat, and those green eyes flashed with warmth before he turned and walked out of the room.

***

Chapter Text

It was another week of slow moving progress and suffering through too many tests to name, with far too much time doing nothing (not that he was allowed to do much of anything outside his PT) on Stacker's hands before Raleigh Becket appeared at his door. Stacker'd gotten a visit from just about everyone – from Tendo Choi and Doctors Gottlieb and Geiszler to the LOCCENT techs, and had accepted every well wish and appreciative handshake with a smile and an outward gratitude he was far from feeling. He wasn't sure if anyone really saw him these days or the symbol he'd become, the fixed point that everyone had rallied around when hope had long since abandoned the world.

In fact, the only person these days - other than Mako - who seemed to see Stacker Pentecost the man instead of Marshal Pentecost the so-called hero, was Chuck Hansen. An oddity in and of itself.

Which was why, when he was hailed by a familiar voice while making his slow, shuffling progress down the hallway of the infirmary during his daily exercise regime, he was more than a little glad for the company.

"I'd say you look like shit, Marshal, but I'm not in much position to talk," Raleigh said, quickly falling in step beside him as they turned a corner.

Stacker managed a laugh and glanced at Raleigh. Still blond and tall and handsome, but the hair was shaggier than normal, his frame not quite as filled out, and there was no hiding the dark circles under his eyes or the gauntness of his cheeks. "I see they finally let you roam about unsupervised."

Not that Stacker blamed the doctors for keeping a close eye on Raleigh. He knew better than anyone what exposure to radiation poisoning could do to the human body.

Raleigh grimaced. "Yeah, a few days ago, after making me feel like a damn vampire with the amount of blood they took."

"I think it's the other way around."

"Well, someone's a vampire, then, and I hope they're enjoying all of my blood." Raleigh grinned, and that smile, at least, was still exactly the same. Sunny and infectious and warm. "How're you doing? I see they let you escape the bed."

"It's not like I'd be able to run very far," Stacker replied, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. Yesterday, he'd been able to do two laps. He was determined to make it three today.

"The important thing is you're upright." Raleigh slowed his steps to match Stacker's. "Mako's been keeping me updated on your progress. I gotta say, it's a damn miracle that you and Chuck survived."

Miracle. There was that word again. Stacker still didn't know what it meant or why they'd made the choice they had. There were still far too many blank spots. "I could say the same thing about you."

Raleigh's smile turned wistful. "There was no way I was gonna let your daughter down, Marshal. No way I'd let her lose her partner the way..."

He didn't finish. Stacker didn't need him to. They both knew the heartbreak and guilt that came with losing both a Jaeger partner and with losing family.

"So how are you doing, really?" Raleigh asked, after a heavy few beats of silence.

"Not as badly as I thought I would be." Which was true. He was recovering more slowly than he'd like, but it was still much faster progress than anyone could have expected, given the trauma already inflicted on his body. "And you?"

"Doc says I'll be back to my old self in no time. Mako's already taken over my PT. She's a tyrant, man." He sounded far too cheerful about the prospect of having his ass handed to him.

Stacker chuckled. "That she is, Becket. That she is."

"Well, I'd watch my step if I were you. Once she gets her claws in you, you'll be longing for your bed."

"Right now, I'd settle for getting a chance to rest in my own bed, and not here."

"You'll get there. Just take it easy. You've got time," Raleigh said.

Time. It was a nice lie. But Stacker didn't argue. He just smiled and kept walking, one foot in front of the other.

***

"I'm sorry, would you mind terribly repeating that?"

Stacker was almost certain he'd misunderstood the words. Beside him, Mako was wearing a dumbfounded expression. Doctor Seaver never even blinked.

"As I said, it's still an experimental drug at this stage, but the clinical trials so far have been very promising and you're a perfect candidate –"

"What does that mean?" Mako interrupted. Her fingernails were digging deep crescents into Stacker's arm. He was willing to bet she wasn't even aware she was doing it.

"It means the drug won't cure the radiation poisoning or reverse your father's cancer, but it will slow down the physical effects of both dramatically."

"Meaning what? I get to prolong my life by a few miserable months, at best?" He'd heard all of this before, back when Tamsin had been first diagnosed, and none of the treatments or drugs she'd tried had mattered in the end. He couldn't do that to Mako, couldn't waste away in front of her like that. He would face his end with dignity, at the least. He owed Mako and himself that much.

"No, not months," Seaver corrected. "Years."

"Years?" Mako turned her wondering gaze to Stacker. "Sensei..."

He refused to feel hope. "And my quality of life during those years?"

"Hard to say, but again, the trials have been very encouraging. We'd be keeping a close eye on you and monitoring your condition, of course –"

"I'll think about it."

"Fair enough." Seaver's smile swept over him and Mako. "I'll give you two time to talk it over and decide on a plan of action."

Mako waited until the doctor left before rounding on him. "You will do this, yes?"

It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, but Stacker refused to corner himself into a promise he wasn't sure he could keep. "We'll see."

In his heart of hearts, though, he'd already made his decision. He was dying. There was nothing anyone could do about it, and he wouldn't put Mako through the roller coaster ride they'd both gone on with Tamsin. There would be no running from this. His time had long since passed.

***

Not even an hour after Mako left, Chuck came barreling into his hospital room, looking like a furious, avenging angel. Stacker could practically feel the anger rolling off of him in waves, buffeting him like the inevitable tide. The strength of it, however, was a little surprising.

"You're doing it, right?"

Stacker set down his tablet, and looked at Chuck. He'd had a sneaking suspicion that Mako might seek reinforcements. He'd just expected that person to be Herc. Or, possibly, Raleigh. Not the clearly pissed off man in front of him. "Actually, not that it's any of your business, but no, I'm not."

Chuck stepped forward until he was crowding the bed. His fists were clenched into balls at his sides. His mouth was a hard, thin line. "Funny, I didn't peg you for a fucking coward."

"It's not cowardice, Mr. Hansen –"

"First off, it's Chuck. We've Drifted together, I've been in your head, I gave you CPR for fuck's sake, I think we can dispense with the goddamn formalities. Second, it's cowardice, pure and simple. You'd rather die and leave Mako all alone than fight for a few more years with her and everyone else that loves you."

"I should have died in Striker."

"Yeah, me too." Chuck tapped angrily at his dog tags, green eyes snapping with temper. "But we didn't. And that was a choice we made together. No one forced either of us into that escape pod. So don't be a fuckhead about it now. Take the damn pills, spend the time with your daughter, enjoy getting the chance to live in a world that's not on the brink of extinction. One that you helped save."

"Again, I fail to see how this has anything to do with you."

"Your daughter might be the only real friend I've got in this entire bloody world, and she needs you here with her. And my dad is your best friend, right? And you saved my life for my father, isn't that what you told me in Striker when we decided to use the escape pods?" Chuck's voice lowered. "So let me save your life for Mako. She's lost enough."

Chuck looked as though he wanted to say something else, but he pursed his lips together and stayed silent.

The defiant angry young boy Stacker had met almost twelve years ago had grown into a man. One who wouldn't hesitate to put himself on the line for a cause he believed in. As hard as it was to reconcile with his memories of Chuck and his prickly nature and pigheadedness, the proof of Chuck's maturity was standing right before him. What other changes had he missed in his single-minded pursuit of ending the kaiju threat? What else had he lost in his Ahab-esque quest to save the world?

"I'll give it some more thought," he finally said, when the silence had stretched to the breaking point. The tension between them was so thick it was almost visible.

"Do better than just think about it." Chuck paused at the door. "You've always been a good father, Stacker. I know you'll do the right thing. More than one person is counting on you."

It wasn't until after Chuck left that Stacker realized, for the first time he could ever remember, Chuck had called him by his first name. Heat of the moment, probably, and he'd let it slide this time. But rank was rank, no matter that they'd Drifted together. Stacker didn't have much he could – or wanted – to call his own, but his pride was certainly one of them. And no one, especially not a young man whose life he'd saved, one he'd watched grow up, was going to take that away from him.

All the same, when he called Doctor Seaver back into his room and informed her he'd decided to give the new drug a try, he couldn't help but think of Chuck's impassioned plea.

***

Despite the fact that he physically felt fine and felt no ill effects of his time in Striker or the escape pod, it was another ten days before Doctor Seaver pronounced Stacker fit enough to be released. By then, he'd been doing his best to do his job from the infirmary, meeting with Herc every day to go over all of the logistics of everything that needed to get done, and powering through his physical therapy sessions like they were a contest he was determined to win.

He'd already begun to see an improvement in both his energy levels and his mental acuity, but he tried not to read too much into it. It could be the new drug taking effect, but then, maybe he simply wanted it to work, so he'd tricked his body into believing it had. Either way, there was no denying he felt stronger than he had in months. Even if it was simply a placebo, he welcomed it.

Life on the Shatterdome was vastly different now that the kaiju threat had been neutralized. The U.N. was still keeping the PPDC up and running to monitor the Breach (no one was naïve enough to believe that the kaiju wouldn't try to invade again) and for further research on the kaiju and their biology, headed by the good Doctors Gottlieb and Geiszler, of course. But the bulk of the personnel were now focused on biotech research and re-purposing the entire Jaeger program into oceanic restoration and preservation. And if all went well, the robotic and Drift technology could then be used to help with the rebuilding efforts in the coastal cities and areas most affected by the war.

Stacker eased back into his duties as Marshal, grateful for Herc's presence and support. Tendo had also stayed to oversee the new changes to the restoration and rebuilding of the program, a position he'd accepted with a solemn nod and a promise not to let Stacker down. He was also pleased that Mako and Raleigh and Chuck had all chosen to help oversee the transition as project leaders.

Especially Chuck, whose decision not to enlist in another branch of the military had, frankly, surprised him. Considering Chuck's entire life had been defined by a war no one really thought they'd win, he'd taken to this newfound peace like the proverbial duck to water. It was encouraging, gave Stacker hope that Mako would also be able to finally put the war behind her and have a normal life. Whatever normal was now.

The days seemed to speed by, busy and full enough that Stacker fell into bed each night exhausted, but in a good way. There still weren't enough hours, but he no longer felt the war clock breathing hot against the back of his neck. He wasn't sure how many tomorrows he still had left, but at least his and Herc's children now had a future.

***

The boxing gloves landed on his desk with a thump. Stacker looked up quizzically to meet Herc's determined frown.

"Lace up and meet me downstairs in the ring in ten," Herc said, without preamble. "You and me, we've got unfinished business."

Stacker had no idea what Herc meant, but he knew better than to argue the point. He and Herc had been friends and colleagues a long, long time, since before the kaiju threat, and he trusted Herc enough to give him the benefit of the doubt right now.

Exactly ten minutes later, he walked into the gym, gloves and shorts on, to see Herc already in the ring doing some warm-ups. He seemed to have recovered from his injury just fine, and he still looked as fit as ever. But the serious look he directed Stacker's way was new.

"You ready?"

"Dunno." Stacker climbed into the ring, but stayed in his corner. "What are we doing here?"

"I promised you an ass-whumping if you made it back from Pitfall alive."

Had he? Stacker wracked his brain, but came up with nothing. Another memory lost, it seemed. He'd started to lose count after awhile. "Remind me."

Herc shook his head like he was disappointed, but complied. "What you said to Chuck right before you got into Striker? You remember that?"

And, so quick it was like a lightning flash, it came rushing back to him. Standing in the corridor outside his quarters after suiting up, Chuck's confused face, Herc positioning himself back with Max, allowing him and Chuck a moment to come to grips with the reality of the situation that they'd be partnering up for the most important mission of their lives. How the fear mixed with acceptance had churned within him, made his breath come short, his heartbeat erratic. How Chuck had stood there, silent and attentive, as Stacker had laid into him with a few well-chosen words, reduced everything Chuck was to the basest of terms, all so he'd have the upper hand in the Conn.

An egotistical jerk with daddy issues...a simple puzzle I solved on day one...

He winced, ran a glove over the top of his head. He wondered if he looked as sheepish as he felt. Shame churned in his gut. "Yeah, I suppose I do owe you a few licks."

"Too fucking right you do. He might be a conceited prick and he might be an arrogant ass at times, but he's my son. And he was man enough to answer the bell every time it rang and man enough to sacrifice himself for the greater good, and you may have saved his life, but you still got this coming."

Stacker stepped forward until he was in the middle of the ring. "Understood," he said, and made a c'mon gesture. He'd take his chops and apologize to Chuck, not just for the sake of his friendship with Herc, but because it was the right thing to do.

Stacker may still be feeling his way around this new world order, but he still knew his duty.

***

Chapter Text

Activity in the Shatterdome never ceased, not even late at night. But there was still something soothing about touring the facilities after the bulk of the work had stopped for the day, checking over progress and making notes on what still needed to be done. Sometimes Herc accompanied Stacker on these tours, but more often than not, Stacker was alone. And, in all honesty, he relished the rare time to himself, to reflect on all his team had accomplished and all they still had yet to do. Transforming a station of war into one of peace wasn't the easiest shift, but so far, everyone was handling their new duties with aplomb.

Stacker's only regret was that he wouldn't be around to see the full conversion of military installation to research facility. His own fragile mortality never weighed on him quite so heavily as it did on those quiet nights, when the seeds of so many great deeds were being sown before his very eyes. Seeds he would never get to see flower and grow.

It was on one of those melancholy trips when he realized he wasn't the only one who was burning the midnight oil. He was touring the upper levels, and had just stepped out onto the roof area above the old Jaeger bays, when he saw Chuck. He was in grey sweats and a matching t-shirt, sitting cross-legged on the ground, scribbling in an actual, physical notebook, with an opened book at his side. Curiosity got the better of him, and he found himself walking over to take a look.

Chuck glanced up, smiled when he saw Stacker. "I see you've found my secret studying spot."

"Studying?" Stacker gestured at the book. "Is that what this is?"

Chuck nodded. "Mako's idea. Me and her and Rals, we've been sort of catching up on some things that we've missed over the years."

"May I?" When Chuck nodded, Stacker dropped to the ground and sat across from him. "What sorts of things?"

"Mostly just...well, stuff we probably would have studied or learned or whatever in university if we'd gone. Well, me and Mako more than Raleigh," Chuck amended, "but it's not like he got to finish secondary or high school or whatever you call it."

"Commendable," Stacker murmured. He'd had no idea that any of them had been furthering their learning. What else had Mako been keeping from him? What else was he missing? "A well-rounded education is important."

They'd all been at the mercy of necessity for far too long.

"Yeah, it's been fun," Chuck said. "Right now, we're going through the classics in philosophy, both Eastern and Western, and in literature. This week it's Shakespeare. We've been, uh, acting them out? Y'know, reading them out loud? It seems to help with getting into the flow of the language."

"Good thinking," Stacker said, once again impressed. He well remembered Shakespeare. Studying his plays, especially the historical ones, had been a highlight of his own school days. "And are you concentrating on his comedies or tragedies?"

"Uh, we started with the histories, actually. Richard II right now, then moving onto the Henrys, then Richard III."

"The Hollow Crown series. A good place to start. Richard II, in particular, was a flawed, but brilliant man."

"Yeah, seems to me he'd've done better to actually listen to his advisors every once in awhile instead of surrounding himself with sycophants and yes-men," Chuck said. "I mean, if he'd just killed both Bolingbroke and Mowbray when he had the chance or taken John of Gaunt's advice, he wouldn't have lost his crown."

"O, but they say the tongues of dying men/Enforce attention like deep harmony/Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain/For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain," Stacker quoted softly. Over the last few desperate months of the war, he'd given a lot of thought to John of Gaunt's last, pleading speech to an uncaring Richard, and how the course of history had been changed as a result. Stacker himself had been determined to be the dying man whose speech made a difference.

Chuck just offered a smile, soft and small. "Let us sit upon the ground/And tell sad stories of the death of kings/How some have been deposed; some slain in war/Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed/Some poison'd by their wives: some sleeping kill'd/All murder'd: for within the hollow crown/That rounds the mortal temples of a king/Keeps Death his court..."

He trailed off, shrugged. "I like what he's saying there. We're all gonna die, y'know, kings and peasants alike. I think the point is, how many regrets are we gonna have before shuffle off into the big beyond?"

"If you live long enough, you'll have more than your fair share of regret," Stacker said. God alone knew he did. "But the good tends to outweigh the bad most days, if you're lucky."

"Any day that ends with you still above ground is a good day."

"I guess I can't argue there. What's the other saying – don't waste time or it will waste you?"

"My uncle Scott was fond of that one." Chuck smiled again, this time showing off his dimples as he set his notebook aside. "He was a pretty big proponent of the whole Romantic Keatsian carpe diem thing."

"I remember." Scott had been...exuberant. Larger than life, with a booming laugh and a deft hand at the helm of a Jaeger. Stacker still missed him sometimes, missed that smile and that energy and the way he'd made everything around him a little bit brighter. "He and your father made a good team."

"So everyone said." Chuck toyed with the laces of his shoe. He glanced at Stacker through partially lowered lashes. "I'm never gonna find out why he got kicked out of the Program, am I?"

"Not from me, no." Even if Herc gave permission, Stacker had no wish to relive those days. "But if you're asking if it was justified, I would say the answer is yes. In fact, I'd say your uncle got off easy."

At that, Chuck offered a rueful laugh. "Yeah, you do have that biblical streak of retribution running through your veins, don't you?"

Stacker shifted uncomfortably. This was veering into dangerous territory. He'd sworn an oath to Herc many years ago that he'd never reveal Scott's secret, and not even Scott's own nephew could get him to go back on his word. Which didn't mean he was going to let Chuck's comment stand, exactly.

"I wouldn't call it that. The situation was a bit more complicated," he said, picking each word carefully. "Your uncle is a good man. Whatever else you might have heard, believe that. The rumors about him..."

He didn't want to contemplate where some of them had started or why. But he couldn't let Chuck think that his own flesh and blood was capable of some of the horrific things he'd no doubt heard over the years.

"Yeah, I know, you don't have to defend him to me. Uncle Scott and me've always gotten on, and Dad still loves him, and we still go visit him sometimes, so –" Chuck waved him off. "Just let me enjoy the fantasy of you as an Old Testament shagger, alright."

"You're the same way, you know."

"I never burned down a club to avenge my dad's death."

He hadn't thought about that night in decades. But he wasn't surprised that Chuck knew about it. "No, you just strapped yourself in a Jaeger and became the best pilot the world has ever known to avenge your mother," Stacker said quietly. It was the first time he'd ever had this particular discussion with either of the Hansens.

"That wasn't vengeance. I mean, not like how you and Mako see it," Chuck replied, just as quiet. "I just couldn't think of anything else to do to honor her memory. The old man saved me over her for a reason – I just didn't want her sacrifice to have been in vain."

"Even if you had only been granted one more day on earth, she would have considered her sacrifice worth it." Stacker knew that as well as he knew his own name. He may not have known Angela Hansen all that well, but he knew what it was like to be a parent. To know you'd sacrifice everything for your child.

"Right now, I just hope I can keep doing her proud. Make something of myself now that the fighting's stopped." Then Chuck cast him a sidelong glance. "You think it'll last? This peace, I mean. The cooperation between all the nations and such."

"I'd like to think so, but I honestly don't know." As much as he wanted to lie to Chuck – this bright young man who'd grown up in the shadow of a terrible war and deserved a lifetime to peace for his sacrifice – he couldn't bring himself to do it. Chuck would have seen through it, anyway. "Only the dead have seen the end of war."

"Plato," Chuck answered, with a small smile. "He was probably right, too, but I think we can still do the best we can."

"I agree," Stacker replied. "Your mother would be proud of you."

"You know, I like to think she would."

Something pulsed between them then, bright and warm, and as gentle as a summer breeze. Something that felt like harmony.

After a little while, Stacker made a move to stand, then stopped. He still had one more thing to do, and this seemed to be the perfect opportunity. "I'm sorry."

Chuck tilted his head. "For what?"

"What I said to you that day. Before we strapped into Striker," he clarified. "You're far more than an egotistical jerk –"

"Did my old man make you do this?" Chuck interrupted, and far from sounding annoyed, he sounded amused.

Stacker frowned, shook his head. "Not in the way you mean. I was out of line that day."

"You were fine that day," Chuck said, reaching forward to pat his arm. The touch was warm, forgiving. "You said exactly what I needed to hear to get me all revved up and ready to fight and to get my mind off the fact that I was on a suicide mission. So...apology accepted, but not needed. Alright?"

Stacker nodded, even though he didn't understand how Chuck could let him off the hook so easily. Not for the first time, he thought he might have spent the last few years dangerously underestimating one Chuck Hansen.

***

There was a certain exhilaration to running – just trainers pounding dirt or pavement, thighs and calves and torso and chest and arms all working in synchronicity – that Stacker had missed the last couple of years, ever since the cancer had started taking over his body. It wasn't the adrenaline rush of piloting a Jaeger or a kaiju kill or the Zen of Bō fighting or Tae Kwan Do or the controlled rush of boxing, but whatever it was, it was enough to get Stacker out of bed at dawn every morning and setting out outside the Shatterdome walls. He never counted the kilometers – he just ran until his lungs and thighs threatened mutiny and then headed inside for a shower and breakfast.

Just the fact that he could run these days, that the medication was working well enough that he was able to exert himself like this, was a small miracle. One he was determined to take advantage of as long as he was able.

This particular morning was wet and the sort of drizzly that was just hard enough to soak Stacker's shirt, but not bad enough to impair his vision. At least it wasn't freezing cold for a change. Seemed like spring might actually be on its way.

He sucked in great big breaths as he pulled up to the main hanger and snagged his water bottle from the clip on his belt. The morning crew was already hard at work, continuing the slow, arduous work of converting the Shatterdome into its new facility for oceanic restoration and preservation. A group to his left was busy with a large crane and an even bigger shipping container and he grinned to himself at hearing the wide variety of curse words in at least five languages. Frustration with machinery was universal.

He was still smiling when he turned to head back inside and pulled up short. Raleigh Becket was huddled on the steps next to the door. His hair was plastered to his head and he was shivering beneath his t-shirt and sweats and bare feet. His eyes, normally a vivid blue flashing with mirth and life, stared vacantly out at the horizon.

He knew that look. What it meant. He'd seen it before on other vets, and in the mirror often enough the past couple of months since Pitfall. Survivor's guilt.

He was still debating on whether he should head over, offer some form of comfort, when Mako came out of the doorway, blanket in tow, and sat gingerly beside Raleigh. Stacker was too far away to hear what she said, but Raleigh simply leaned into her, put his head on her shoulder, and allowed her to drape the blanket around his shoulders.

He stood, frozen in place, unwilling to move lest he disrupt the scene in front of him. The rain slowed to a light drizzle, but neither Mako nor Raleigh seemed concerned about the weather. They just sat together, Mako's arms around Raleigh offering support and sympathy, giving Raleigh an anchor. Stacker wondered how often this had happened, how often she'd rescued Raleigh from his demons, from the endless loop of what if and if I'd only.

It was only then that Stacker heard Mako's voice carrying across the tarmac, could barely make out the melody of an old Japanese folk song, one he knew her mother used to sing to her back when she'd been a little girl. Raleigh sank even deeper into her embrace.

Stacker slipped through another door on silent feet, and left the two of them to their privacy.

***

Chapter Text

It was about three weeks later when a pair of swim trunks landed on Stacker's desk. He looked up to see Chuck standing there, wearing his own swim trunks, towel draped across his neck. Max sat happily at his feet, tongue lolling.

"What's this?"

"Well, I reckon you're bright enough to've sussed that out already." Chuck grinned, showing off twin dimples. "C'mon, get changed. Chopper's waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Which wasn't the question Stacker meant to ask at all.

"To take us to Tai Long Wan Bay. Best surfing in Hong Kong. We've got boards and wet suits in the chopper and Raleigh and Mako've packed an Esky. Just waiting on you."

"I can't –"

"Yeah, actually, according to my old man, you can," Chuck said, smoothly interrupting him, like he'd expected the protest. "It's a fuck off beautiful day and we're due for an afternoon outside to enjoy it. What's the point of saving the world if you can't reap a few of the bennys?"

Stacker glanced at his computer screen, at the emails too numerous to count. At the spreadsheets and paperwork and requisition forms and –

"I'll sic Max on you if I have to," Chuck said, with another one of those grins that invited Stacker to smile along with him. He hadn't seen that smile too much over the years. "Or think of some other truly embarrassing way to grovel or something, trust me, it won't be pretty."

"I feel certain you'd find something," Stacker said, and in his head, he heard Tamsin making him promise to live. Maybe it was time to take her up on that. Not to mention the energy emanating from Chuck was like a living, breathing entity, impossible to resist. He scooped the swim trunks off the table. "Five minutes."

"Really?" Chuck's smile brightened like the sun hitting the ocean after a storm. He bounced once on his heels. Max barked joyfully, perhaps sensing Chuck's mood. "Awesome, we'll wait here."

He didn't stop to question what he was doing as he headed to the washroom next to his office. He knew himself well enough to know if he gave himself an opportunity, he'd back out, even if it meant Chuck's disappointment. Although he wasn't sure why Chuck's disappointment came to mind before the idea of Mako's.

Chuck gave him an approving, very thorough look when he stepped back into the room. "I always knew you were hiding a bod under that suit of yours, but if I'd known it was this sweet, I'd've gotten your kit off a long time ago –"

"Mr. Hansen –"

"C'mon, I'm pretty blatantly ogling your chest, I think you can call me Chuck."

"You done?"

"Probably not," Chuck replied, but thankfully turned towards the door. "Reckon I can wait until we're at the beach to continue, though, if you're all in a tizz about it."

Stacker knew any comment he made would just give Chuck validation and the wrong sort of attention, so he kept his mouth shut and followed Chuck and Max to the waiting helicopter.

It was worth it just to see the way Marko's eyes lit up at the sight of him. Then she rounded on Chuck. "How were you able to do it?" she demanded.

Chuck shrugged as he helped Max into the chopper before following and seating himself beside Raleigh. "I just asked him is all."

Raleigh snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, right. I bet you promised to split your winnings with him, didn't you?"

Chuck nudged Raleigh's shoulder. "Aww, you mad because you lost the bet, Rals?"

"Betting on me now, are we?" Stacker asked, taking his seat beside Mako.

"They bet on everything," Mako informed him.

"Not everything," Raleigh protested, but the twinkle in his eyes was a dead giveaway.

Stacker took a moment to observe Raleigh, really observe him. He'd kept his distance the last few weeks, not wanting to intrude, but whatever had happened that morning on the deck seemed to be in Raleigh's rearview. He looked relaxed, loose, smiling that dimpled smile, and not at all like a man haunted by ghosts or demons or whatever had driven him into Mako's arms.

Which was another thought for another day. Not now, but soon, he and Raleigh Becket would need to have a conversation about Raleigh not breaking his daughter's heart.

Then the chopper took off and Stacker took a breath. No going back now. He'd committed himself to this.

"I thought Herc would be with us," Stacker said, looking around. Being around the three of them and their youthful exuberance made him feel very day of the years separating them. He wasn't sure he was up for the task of chaperone.

"He and Tendo are joining us later," Chuck said. "They have a test they're wrapping up, couldn't skiv off until it's done. Until then, I guess you're the only adult supervision."

Stacker smiled in spite of his best efforts. "Still a smartass."

"We've all got our strengths." Chuck smiled back, and something pulsed between them, bright and carefree.

Mako leaned against Stacker's arm. "Thank you," she murmured. "It is good to see you out."

Stacker patted her knee. "It's good to see you smiling."

***

The sun shone unseasonably warm, with a gentle breeze coming in from the south, and the waves were good enough that even Chuck had pronounced them 'a bit of alright'. He and Raleigh wasted no time getting into their wet suits to get in some surfing, whereas Mako set out a blanket and pulled a book out of her bag, along with one of her favorite wide-brimmed floppy hats. She shooed Stacker out towards the water, telling him to enjoy himself.

Swimming was one of the only indulgences he'd allowed himself since taking over as Marshal, and he took full advantage of the weather and the low tide, lost himself in the surf and familiar cadence of every stroke. He'd missed this over the years – swimming in the ocean, pitting his body against the pull of the waves, the scent of brine in the air, the sun reflecting under the surface in a bright prism of color. It had been far too long since he'd seen the ocean as anything other than a threat. Maybe now, a new generation could grow up unafraid of the sea, could see it as something mysterious and magical, rather than something to fear, with demons and monsters lurking under the swell.

Raleigh and Chuck were still out on their boards when he swam to shore and he shaded his eyes to watch them. Even from this distance, it was easy enough to discern the two. Both were of similar heights and builds, but Chuck glided across the water like he was part dolphin, graceful in a way that defied description. For a kid that was so aggressive in both the Kwoon and the Conn, he showed a remarkably deft touch in the water.

Tendo and Herc were at the beach when he made his way back, Tendo lounging next to Mako, and Herc was suited up, surfboard at the ready. Max was curled up in a pudgy ball at Mako's feet, snoring softly.

"Your son looks like a natural out there," Stacker commented, after getting a bottle of Coke from the cooler.

"That's 'cause he's part fish," Herc snorted, but Stacker saw the pride in his eyes. "Scotty first put him on a board when he was four and I think he would've gone pro if K-Day hadn't fucked everything all to shit."

"He probably still could if he wanted."

Herc nodded. "Dunno that he does, but it's nice to think about, isn't it? That he has a chance to do something other than jockey a Jaeger and die a hero's death."

Stacker's gaze flicked over to Mako. "It is indeed."

Herc clapped him on the back. "It's good you came. All work and no play and all that ruck."

"So Chuck reminded me."

"He's a smart 'un sometimes." Herc picked up the board. "You surfing?"

"Not today." He still wasn't sure he trusted his equilibrium that much just yet.

He strolled over to Tendo and Mako, both of them talking animatedly about new tweaks to the re-purposed LOCCENT stations and set his towel near theirs, but not close enough to disturb the conversation. He sat, finished his Coke and watched as Herc joined Chuck and Raleigh, looking every bit at ease riding the waves, even if he wasn't as naturally gifted as his son.

He wasn't aware he'd nodded off until he felt the nudge to his leg.

"You planning on lazing about all day?"

Stacker blinked, then squinted. Chuck stood over him, wetsuit pulled down to his hips. The sun was a bright halo around him, turned his hair to polished amber and made the freckles dotting his shoulders and arms stand in sharp relief to the paleness of his skin. He'd lost a bit of muscle, but still, he looked fit, healthy and whole, the living embodiment of youth and vitality.

"Hmm?"

Chuck shook his head, flinging droplets of water everywhere, and dropped gracefully beside him. "I was gonna ask if you wanted to take a spin on the board, but you look like a man who's not moving. I'll get you out there with me one of these days, though."

Stacker nodded, brain still slightly fuzzy around the edges, and struggled to sit up. "How long've I been conked out?"

"No clue. But you're really cute when you sleep." Max came bouncing over, depositing a truly disgusting tennis ball at Chuck's feet. Chuck didn't even blink – he just scooped it up and flung it in a far arc, and Max went after it, flying as fast as his stubby legs would take him.

Stacker chose to ignore the cute comment. It was better for his sanity. "You looked like a natural out there."

Chuck cast him a sidelong glance. "Were you watching me?"

"Hard not to."

"Been out there most of my life. Before Scissure, surfing was fun. A hobby, y'know, something me and Mom and Uncle Scott did. But after, it was like my own personal fuck you to the kaiju. They could steal my family, kill my mum, take my childhood and even my life, but they weren't gonna take that from me."

Stacker knew exactly how Chuck felt. "That's what swimming became for me."

"Yeah, I remember that. From when we've Drifted, I mean," Chuck clarified. "I think that's when I realized we're not so different, you and me."

"We're not?" Stacker couldn't really see it – a generation separated them, not to mention temperament and a lifetime of experience. He still wished he could remember their Drift. He always felt a step behind in their conversations these days. Like Chuck was suddenly fluent in a language he didn't understand, but was expected to somehow know.

"Yeah. We're both perfectionist assholes with social issues who demand way too much of ourselves and everyone around us. Only difference is, I seem to be taking this second shot at life seriously, and you're not quite all in yet."

"I suppose you do have a point," Stacker mused, as Max came back with the ball and Chuck threw it back out. He felt that bright pulse between them again. Wondered what it meant, if anything.

"So, I was thinking about going back to school for real in the next year or so, maybe getting a degree in marine biology."

"I think any university would be lucky to have you."

Chuck cast him a thoughtful glance. His eyes were the exact same shade as the ocean, and looked just as endless. "Maybe you could start teaching again."

"Me? My school days are long over, Chuck." No, he'd die at his desk, or as close to it as he could manage. His time to go in a different path had long since passed him by.

"I dunno, I think you'd be good at it. God knew you were the best instructor at the Academy."

"You don't need to flatter me."

"Not flattery, basic fact," Chuck said, and rested a sun-warmed hand on his shoulder. "Give it some thought. It's not too late to have a second career."

It was, at least, for him, but he appreciated the sentiment. Chuck was still trying, and that meant something.

***

Chapter Text

"Hey, Marshal, glad you're here," Tendo greeted him, the next time he was making his supervisory rounds. "I wanted to get your opinion on something."

"Happy to help."

Mako was rewiring a computer schematic in the main bay, but she kept glancing over in their direction. Stacker followed her look. Chuck and Raleigh were standing at a table next to him and Tendo, heads bent over a blueprint, both wearing grease-stained jeans and tank tops.

Chuck laughed and nudged Raleigh's shoulder, gestured at something on the blueprint. Raleigh nodded, making a thoughtful moue, and then Chuck scribbled a note in the margins. They looked like they were having far too much fun tearing up their old world and building a new one.

But most of Stacker's focus was for Mako, and, the teasing looks she and Raleigh were giving each other, the easy way they slipped in and out of each other's space, a comfortable routine. He knew objectively, of course, that his little girl was a grown woman. That she'd known heartache and desire. He'd also seen the way Raleigh had looked at her from the start, like she was a miracle he didn't deserve. He'd noticed – of course he had – the two of them circling around each other before Pitfall, but the timing to say something about it had been all wrong. However, now that they were at peace, now that he had that memory of the two of them wrapped in each other, taking and receiving comfort, it was past time he gently encouraged his girl to fly the nest and make her own way.

"He's a good man," he finally said, walking over to Mako as soon as he and Tendo were finished speaking.

She hmmed her agreement, but didn't look up from her tablet. "A very good man. He's remade himself, as we all have."

"Should I have a talk with him, maybe put the fear of God into him if he breaks your heart?"

A blush stole over her cheeks. "I do not think he will need it."

There was something about the way she wasn't looking at him that piqued his interest. "Why? Did you see something in the Drift when you were together?"

The blush deepened, but she at least looked up and met his gaze. "You don't – it's not Mr. Becket, sensei."

"Oh." He frowned, and glanced back at Raleigh and Chuck. No, she couldn't be... "Please tell me you're not harboring a crush on Chuck Hansen." God knew they'd known each other forever, but the idea didn't exactly settle right with him. No matter how much Chuck had mellowed since Pitfall, he was still too brash, too arrogant. Chuck may be a good man, but his little girl deserved someone who would put her first, before duty.

"No, it's definitely not Chuck," she said, with a laugh. "He is far too much like you." But before Stacker could argue that he was nothing like Chuck Hansen, she dropped another bombshell on him. "It's Tendo."

"Tendo? Choi?" She nodded. Stacker knit his brows in confusion. "How long has this been going on?" How much had he missed? How much of his own daughter's life had he not seen or noticed?

"A few months." Her smile was all female and as old as Eve.

"Months?"

"Just a few." She patted his arm reassuringly. "And before you start frowning again, you do not have to worry about Raleigh, either."

Should he be worried about Raleigh? Once again, his gaze skittered to where Chuck and Raleigh were now fiddling with a host of wires, Tendo directing their moves. Everyone certainly looked friendly enough, but Stacker well knew that Raleigh's easy-going demeanor hid nightmares and a world of regret and guilt. "He was your co-pilot," Stacker said. "I've seen that Drift connection ruin more than one relationship with an outside partner."

She cast him an amused look, like she'd been only waiting on him to say something. "Raleigh is like you, sensei. The romantic company of women is not where he finds the most pleasure."

Stacker shifted. This conversation was fast veering into uncomfortable territory. There was a reason why he'd never pried into Mako's personal affairs. Not that he wasn't concerned about her well-being, but he knew if he tried to interfere in her life, she would take that to mean that she could comment on his. And that was a line that never needed to be crossed.

But Mako wasn't finished. "Chuck is...somewhere in the middle. I've seen him move from men to women with equal ease."

He cleared his throat. "That's, uh..."

"But I only have eyes for Mr. Choi, so you do not have to worry that Chuck and I will begin a romantic liaison, either. Since you seem to be so worried about him."

"That's, uh, good to know," he replied faintly. The idea of Chuck in any sort of sexual tête-à-tête with anyone, let alone Mako was just... Well, he was just as glad that Chuck's love life was Herc's problem to deal with, not his.

***

Life attained a certain rhythm, and the days marched on, one after the other. The ticking clock in Stacker's head still kept perfect time, but he ignored it for the most part. Until one late night when Raleigh appeared at the door to his quarters, a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand.

"Mind if I come in?"

"As long as you're planning on sharing."

"Well, I didn't bring it for decoration," Raleigh said, and took the chair at the small table next to the bed.

Stacker poured them each a generous amount and took the other chair. "Still having problems sleeping?" He hadn't seen any other breakdowns like that morning on the hangar, but he wasn't a fool. He knew there'd been other bad moments, bad days, and even worse nights. It was inevitable.

"Yeah, I'm not sure that'll ever go away." Raleigh toyed with his glass. "I still see Yancy when I close my eyes sometimes. But now I dream about not hitting that button soon enough."

"But you did," Stacker reminded him. "You and Mako saved the world."

"Yeah, that's sort of the problem, right? I mean, it's great that we're all keeping busy and working on this whole restoration project, but...I dunno, maybe it hasn't sunk in all the way yet that we don't have to worry about another attack."

"Give it time." Time...the one luxury Stacker didn't have.

"I guess." Raleigh made a face as he downed his glass. "You know, this might make me sound like an asshole, but I gotta say, peace isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Everyone's had to adjust," Stacker said, even though he privately agreed with Raleigh some days. Peace was at times a harsh mistress. They'd all gotten addicted to the adrenaline rush of combat. "The important thing is that you have a future now."

"I never gave much thought to the future," Raleigh admitted.

"Me neither, if we're being honest."

"Yeah, I guess not. I just wish..."

"You know Yancy would be proud of you," Stacker said, taking an educated guess.

"So would your sister and Tamsin," Raleigh said, offering a smile. "Speaking of, how are you doing? Seems like you and Chuck've gotten closer."

"I suppose we have." Drifting did that, whether you wanted it to or not. Whether you even remembered it or not. He polished off his drink, poured them each another.

"He's a good guy. I mean, once you get past the cocky exterior," Raleigh added. "Anyone that's as much of a marshmallow over his dog the way Chuck is can't be all bad."

"I'd wondered how you two had moved past your differences." They'd certainly acted like the best of friends over the last few months.

"I think it was more that I'd proven myself worthy when Mako and I took down Otachi and Leatherback," Raleigh chuckled. It was a welcome sound.

Stacker could see that. Chuck had always placed an extraordinary amount of pressure on his fellow jockeys. But once Chuck gave his loyalty, it was etched in stone. Then he remembered Mako's words to him about Raleigh's preferences, and Chuck's. "Are you two –?"

"No, no, nothing like that." But the way Raleigh said it, Stacker got the feeling it wouldn't be unwelcome. "Besides, he's got his eye cast in a different direction."

"I see."

"Yeah, I really don't think you do, sir. But that's okay. You'll get there."

Stacker wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean. "Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"

"Nope, and, if you don't mind, I'm going to wallow in the fact that I know something you don't for once," Raleigh said, and grinned.

***

Chapter Text

Bureaucracy wasn't Stacker's favorite part of the job, but it was something he'd learned to tolerate. Dealing with the U.N. and the World Security Council was, in his not-so humble opinion, a waste of time, time that would be better spent on overseeing the day to day operations of the rebuild. But that rebuild took money and supplies, and as long as he needed those two things, he knew he needed to be in the U.N.'s good graces.

But it didn't mean he had to like it when the not-so-subtle 'suggestion' came his way that the Security Council wanted an in-person update on the Shatterdome's progress and one of the heroes of Pitfall to make a few PR rounds, do a few interviews, attend a few functions. He wouldn't be the first Marshal to effectively pimp out his pilots for money, but it still rankled.

"Send Mako," Herc had suggested, when Stacker'd ranted about it to him that night during their weekly chess match. "She'll have them all eating out of the palm of her hand by the first day."

"If you think I'm sending my daughter into that nest of vipers without backup..." Stacker shook his head. "Absolutely not."

"Well, I'm not going."

Stacker snorted. "Bloody well right you're not. You'd be just as liable to get into a pissing match with one of the generals and we'd lose our funding. No, as much as it pains me, I think it'll have to be Raleigh. Send the American hero to America, let them parade him around for awhile."

"You sure that's wise? He's not the same kid who used to light up the press circuit back in Gipsy's heyday."

"I think he'll remember the steps well enough."

"Doesn't mean he'll like it."

"Liking it isn't a requirement." Raleigh would do what was needed. Stacker expected nothing less.

***

"This is truly remarkable."

Stacker paused in the act of rolling his sleeve down. "What's that?"

"Your response to the drug is unlike any of the other test subjects," Doctor Seaver said. She glanced at him, then back at the computer screen. "These numbers are unprecedented. Your physical and mental acuity alone would be worthy of a study or a paper. I wonder if maybe Operation Pitfall didn't have more than one unintended side effect where your radiation sickness was concerned."

Stacker frowned. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that whatever happened in the Drift between you and Ranger Hansen seems to have affected the way your body is responding to the drug," Seaver told him. She tapped the screen, brought up another chart, just as impossible for him to decipher as the first one. "At least, that's how it appears right now."

Stacker sat back in his chair, stunned. He knew – better than most – that Jaeger pilots tended to take on the personalities of their co-pilots, and over time, that relationship could become symbiotic. But he and Chuck had only Drifted together the once. They'd never even run a simulation together, had never even tested themselves in the Kwoon. All they had between them was a single combat mission that he still couldn't completely remember.

"I don't understand how that's possible." Of course, he'd noticed his energy levels and physicality had been abnormally high for someone in his condition, but he'd attributed it to a combination of the drug and his own fitness routine.

"Neither do I, which is why I'd like for you and Chuck, if he's willing, to take a few tests."

"What sort of tests?"

"Well, for one, I'd love to get a useable set of readings on Chuck's vitals as a baseline. Something happened to you while you were in Striker Eureka, Marshal. Something that's allowed you to not only survive, but to maintain your same levels of physicality. And it's not the drug, or not all of it. There's something else at work here."

Something else at work. "I'll ask Mr. Hansen if he's willing to take these tests of yours, then."

"Maybe while he's in New York," Seaver suggested, and scribbled a note on Stacker's chart.

"New York?" Stacker frowned again. "How did you know we were sending anyone to New York?"

"It's a small Shatterdome, Marshal." Seaver grinned. "Word gets around."

"I wasn't planning on asking Chuck to go, if you must know."

"I understand. But the staff at Johns Hopkins has been at the forefront of Drift technology, so you may as well take advantage."

Sending Chuck Hansen to New York to deal with politicians and retired military was asking for trouble. But, what other choice did he have? "I'll ask," Stacker said.

***

"You wanted to see me?"

Stacker looked up from his monitor to see Chuck standing the doorway of his office. "I did, yes. Have a seat."

Chuck took the offered chair. "What's up?"

"The U.N. wants an in person update on our progress." Stacker pushed a tablet across the desk. "I'd like you to be that person."

"You want me to go to New York?" Chuck pointed at himself. "You bamming me right now?"

"I need Herc to go to Hong Kong proper for a few days and liaise with the local government on the Kowloon boneslum rebuild. And the Security Council wants a member of the Shatterdome biotech team in attendance to answer questions about our progress on how things are moving with both the preservation efforts and our kaiju biology research."

"Yeah, but – shouldn't it be Mako or Raleigh? Or even Newt? They're the true project leaders here."

In hindsight, it probably had been foolish to think he'd have gotten one over on Chuck. He'd always been whip smart and keenly observant, even as a lad. "Doctor Seaver seems to be under the impression that our Drift in Striker has helped me to maximize the effects of the drug and my treatments and that it's helping to further stabilize my condition."

"Alright." Chuck still looked confused. "And...what? They want to run tests on me, too?"

"They want to run a few simulations and get a baseline reading on you for comparison. And Seaver thinks the staff at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore is the best place to run them, since they're at the forefront of Drift technology right now. And given Baltimore's proximity to New York...well..." Stacker spread his hands out.

"Oh." Chuck nodded and sat back. "Alright, then, when do you need me to leave?"

That had happened a lot more easily than Stacker'd been expecting. "You don't mind?"

"If it'll give them answers and maybe help you with your treatments, I'll do whatever it takes."

"Perhaps you can use the time to talk to the staff at NYU, maybe see if that's where you'd like to go to continue your studies." He wasn't sure if Chuck still wanted to go back to school – they hadn't talked about it since that day at the beach – but it couldn't hurt for him to explore that option.

"Nah, if I'm going to uni anywhere, it'll be in Australia or maybe Japan, somewhere with a crackin' marine biology program. But let's not worry about that right now. We need to get you all sorted first."

"I appreciate it."

"I'm sure you'll find some way to repay me," Chuck said with a wink, then tapped at the tablet. "In the meantime, maybe you should bring me up to snuff on what I need to know to please the suits and to get 'em to open their wallets."

They talked well into the night, going over schematics and plans, and Chuck was insightful, asked a lot of great questions, and had some interesting and out of the box ideas on who to speak with in the private sector about additional funding and who he needed to appeal to in order to secure more government money. He'd do well in New York, Stacker thought. He'd had years of being in the public eye and media appearances to fall back on, and that innate sense of confidence that had served him so well when he'd been a Jaeger pilot. Chuck may not have been his first choice for this particular trip, but Stacker couldn't help but think that the new program would be in good hands with Chuck at the helm.

He'd be a great asset to Herc once Stacker was gone. Which may not be happening as soon as Stacker had once thought, but the day was still coming, and sooner rather than later. No matter what happened with these tests, Stacker was well aware he was still living on borrowed time.

It was right around then that Stacker glanced at the clock. Nearing midnight already. "We should probably stop here for the night, let you get some rest."

"Sounds good. I think I've got a pretty good handle on what's expected of me."

"That you do," Stacker replied. "Your chopper leaves in the afternoon for Hong Kong, then you'll take the next flight to Los Angeles, then connect at LAX to JFK. Your itinerary's on the tablet."

"Thanks." Chuck stood, gestured. "C'mon, I'll walk to your quarters."

"Yours are before mine."

"Alright, fine, you can walk me home." Chuck grinned, showing off those dimples and the crinkles around his eyes. "Just don't try to sneak by me later to get some more work done. You need your rest, too."

"You sound like Mako," Stacker grumbled, but didn't argue. In truth, he was a little tired. He'd been pushing himself pretty hard lately. There was always so much to do, and never enough hours in the day to do it.

They walked in silence to Chuck's quarters, and when they got to the door, Chuck turned to him. "I appreciate the faith you have in me. And I hope the tests help."

"You'll be fine," Stacker answered, offering his own smile, and, in the next moment, Chuck stepped forward, close enough Stacker could almost feel the heat emanating from him.

And still, the kiss caught him unawares.

Chuck's lips were warm, pliant, but moved over his with authority. He felt gentle fingers cup the back of his neck to pull him in even closer, and he surprised himself by returning the kiss, slanting his mouth to fit more firmly against Chuck's. It helped that Chuck kept everything light and loose, didn't try to presume too much, seemed to be content with the slow slide of lips on lips. Stacker'd almost forgotten how much he'd missed this – the simple act of kissing another person. It had been far too long.

But he still found himself frowning when Chuck pulled back, looking well pleased with himself, those ocean-green eyes all soft and half-lidded. He looked good enough that Stacker wanted to pull him right back in and take the kiss to a completely different level. "What was that for?"

Chuck toyed with the hairs on Stacker's nape. "Seriously? You looked in a mirror lately?" He chuckled. "Been wanting to get my hands and every other part of me on you since I was, fuck, 15, I think, maybe even before then."

"I'm old enough to be your father." A singularly uncomfortable thought.

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Not unless you were really precocious."

"Semantics, Chuck. You know what I mean."

"Yeah, and? Last I looked, you aren't my old man, Herc is." Chuck bumped their foreheads together, gentle, but insistent. "I don't give a right shit how old you are."

"Maybe I do."

"Maybe you should just shut up and kiss me like I know you're dying to," Chuck suggested, and settled the matter for both of them by yanking Stacker closer. This kiss was worlds away from the last one. Chuck nipped at Stacker's lower lip to get him to open up, and then his tongue was right there, sweeping in, hot and demanding, and Stacker responded almost on instinct. He made a low noise, pulled Chuck close to him, deepened the kiss even further, this time took control. And felt a dark sense of satisfaction when Chuck's hands dropped to his shoulders as he hung on for dear life.

Hard muscle bunched under Stacker's fingers as Chuck met the slide of Stacker's lips, tilted his head so they were on equal footing. Stacker's body burned every place they touched, and he swept his hands along Chuck's back, gave himself over to the moment and the man in his arms. Chuck tasted like spring, like renewal and hope, earthy and raw, seemed to anticipate every move Stacker made, almost like he could read Stacker's mind.

"Knew you had it in you," Chuck murmured, then came back in for another kiss, this one even hotter than the previous one. Every bit of pent up emotion seemed to go into them, and by the time Stacker lifted his head again, he was spent, drained in ways he'd never been even after sex. And Chuck – God, he looked just gorgeously debauched. Stacker itched with the need to drag him close again and finish what Chuck had started. He wanted to take Chuck apart, inch by bloody inch, and the want was both welcome and scary as hell. The energy pulsing between them crackled like a live wire.

"Much better," Chuck said, his voice low and rough-edged.

"You know this is only going to end in disaster," Stacker said, because someone needed to be the voice of reason.

"I'm used to most things in my life ending in disaster," Chuck replied, his matter-of-fact tone inviting no pity. "But unless you flat out tell me no, I'm going to keep pursuing this. Pursuing you. And I promise you now I'm gonna wear you down eventually."

That thought shouldn't have been as hot as it was. "Still as arrogant as ever, I see."

Chuck ran his hands along Stacker's arms, warm and firm and assured. "You think my arrogance is sexy." It wasn't stated as a question. "Just like I think the authority you wield is sexy. And before you even go there, no, you're not a substitute for my old man and no, I don't have some sort of oedipal fetish for him, either."

"I think Oedipus had sex with his mother, not his father."

"Either way, I don't want to bone my dad. And I'm not looking for you to pull me over your knee and spank me or call you daddy in the sack, either."

Stacker had to laugh at the mental image alone. "I think the time's long since passed when a good spanking would have set you straight."

"Yeah, most like." Chuck grinned, his dimples flashing. Stacker wanted to trace them with his fingers and tongue with a fierceness that surprised him.

"How did you keep this from me when we were Drifting?" He'd have remembered that.

"That I wanted you?" Chuck laughed. "C'mon, I've been Drifting with my dad since I was a randy kid. The first thing the old man taught me was how to ride the memories and not linger on any one thing, and the art of not thinking about all the embarrassing shit no kid wants their parent to know."

"You learned from the best."

"Yeah, I did. And all due respect, Marshal, but I've got a lot more experience in the Drift than you do. It was easy enough to keep my feelings about you to myself."

Not such a simple puzzle after all, Stacker thought, once again ashamed of his words to Chuck what seemed like so long ago. He kept forgetting, to his peril each time, how much experience Chuck had. How much he'd been forced to grow up, how much he'd already seen in his young life. And he knew better than anyone that maturity had nothing to do with age, and everything to do with knowledge and empathy. Two things Chuck seemed to have in abundance.

"How can you even want this? Want me? I sent your friends to their deaths. For that matter, I sent you to yours."

Chuck cupped his jaw, his thumb swiping over Stacker's lower lip. "I was proud to do it, too. Proud to fight alongside you and die alongside you. And I'd do it all over again, no hesitation."

"Why?" Suddenly, it seemed like the most important question Stacker would ever ask.

"Because the world is bigger than any one person or one family," Chuck replied. "Because you were willing to sacrifice me, yourself, your friends, your only daughter, to save our civilization and we all knew what it cost you to do that. And having the balls to do it anyway is what makes you the man I want to be with. A good man. And since I can be a gentleman when it suits me, I think maybe it's time I duck into my room before I can't."

"You really are serious about this, aren't you?" As baffling as it was, Stacker thought Chuck really meant it.

"Feel," Chuck said, taking Stacker's hand and placing it over his crotch. He was hard behind the zip of his jeans, and the heat coming from him, even through the material, would brand Stacker if he wasn't careful. He watched in fascination as Chuck's eyes clouded, the green turning almost grey, but his gaze didn't waver. "That's all for you. And whenever you're ready, I'll be all for you, too."

Stacker ran an experimental hand along Chuck's length, was rewarded with another shiver. "All for me, hmm?"

Chuck nodded, and didn't move. Stacker knew the next step was up to him.

"I'll think about it," he finally said, even though he wanted to say yes, wanted to take what Chuck was so willingly offering, wanted to lay Chuck out on his bed and make him forget his own name. But this was a big step, and there was still Herc to think about.

"Fair enough. But don't take too much time."

He was gone the next moment, the door shutting firm behind him, but Stacker waited until he heard the clang of the lock turning before he felt it was prudent for him to move from his position.

***

Chapter Text

He couldn't get the kiss out of his mind. Or the offer. What was Chuck playing at, why would he choose to pursue something so foolhardy? Chuck had to know nothing long-term was going to happen. Nothing could change Stacker's condition, no matter how good he felt these days, and to ask Chuck to stick around and watch him waste away would be the worst sort of torture. Something Stacker refused to do. He'd gone through the trauma of losing a loved one to cancer, and it wasn't something he'd wish on his worst enemy, let alone on a man he was starting to care about as more than just the son of his oldest friend.

He tried putting it out of his mind, working with the biotech and sonar crews, and it helped that Chuck was halfway around the world and out of sight. Although he couldn't help the pride he felt when every missive and daily report from the U.N. meetings seemed to suggest that Chuck was not only holding his own, but was making great decisions and winning over votes for more all important funding. Herc spent most days strutting around like he was about to burst with pride, and Stacker knew just how he felt.

But he waited until he and Herc met in Stacker's quarters for their chess game before bringing up Chuck. Herc deserved to know what had happened, and Stacker didn't want him finding out about it from someone else. Namely, Chuck himself.

"You know your son tried to seduce me the night before he flew out to New York."

Herc paused for a second. He tightened his fingers on his bishop, but otherwise, he didn't move. "Did he? I take it he didn't succeed."

"No." Stacker leaned against the back of his chair, trying to project an aura of calm he didn't quite feel. This was his oldest living friend. He just hoped they'd still be friends by the end of the night. "He's almost young enough to be my son. I've known him since he was a boy."

"You have, but he's not a boy anymore. Hasn't been one since the day he strapped into a Jaeger and got his first kill. You know better than anyone that he's been a soldier a long time, even before he went to the Academy," Herc said. "He's grown up harder and faster than most."

"This isn't about his skills as a warrior."

"No, it's not, but he knows what he wants, always has. And he's always been a stubborn sort."

"I suppose he has." God knew Stacker had seen that stubbornness up close and personal over the years enough times to know it was just the way Chuck was wired.

Finally, Herc looked up. His eyes, so like his son's, were serious and thoughtful. "If you're looking for permission to take my son to bed, I can't give it to you. Only Chuck can do that."

Stacker frowned. This wasn't going at all like he'd thought. "It doesn't bother you? The idea of your son and me, you're alright with that?"

"I'll admit it's passing odd, sure, but I think you could be good for him. And I already know he's been good for you. He gets you out of that starched suit of yours and into the real world. It's been too long since you've taken that stick out of your arse."

Stacker's frown deepened. "Everything I did was in the service of –"

Herc waved him off. "Yeah, I know. The world needed a leader. A fixed point to rally around. Well, we've done it. We rallied and we won and you saved the world, so it's time to enjoy the rewards of doing it."

The speech was almost an echo of Chuck's earlier words to him. The two of them had definitely Drifted together too long. "Your son deserves better than a broken down man who's dying of cancer."

"My son deserves the best," Herc replied, his voice hard, implacable. "And that's you. So don't fuck it up, and don't break his heart, or your cancer'll be the least of your worries."

"Noted," Stacker said, pouring another splash of whiskey into their glasses. He had no intentions of breaking anyone's heart. He had no intentions of this thing progressing any further. Chuck may be stubborn, but Stacker had years of practice on him.

Herc looked up from his perusal of the board. "And, just to make it plain so it gets through that thick skull of yours, you're not dead yet. So stop acting like it."

"No, but we both know this drug is only delaying the inevitable."

"We're all of us dying, Stacker. No one makes it through alive." He smiled, then grew serious. "But you need to get out there into the world while you still can."

"That's rich, coming from you," Stacker scoffed. "Your whole life has been the job."

Herc scowled. "This isn't about me. I'm not the one with the ticking time bomb and you can't keep pretending like everything's still the same as it was. Because it's not."

"Everything is the same, Herc. I still have a job to do." He may not live long enough to see this future, but he could at least ensure that it would start off on the best possible footing.

"Your job ended when Pitfall succeeded. It's time to enjoy what time you have left."

"And you think that includes Chuck?"

"Doesn't matter what I think." Herc shrugged. "Only matters what you think."

The only problem with that was Stacker had no idea what to think.

***

It was the next day when Mako found him. Stacker knew exactly why she was in his office the second he saw the look on her face. Chuck must've told her, Stacker thought, but couldn't be mad at the indiscretion. Even if it was still a conversation he'd hoped to avoid.

"Do you like him?"

Trust Mako to get right to the heart of the matter. "I think there's a lot more to him than meets the eye."

"Do you like him?" she repeated, with a sword-sharp edge to her voice. "As one would a lover?"

"What I want isn't relevant."

"On the contrary, what you want is the only relevant thing," she told him, and came around the desk, leaning against it as she looked down on him. Her bangs were now bright red. He wondered at the significance, if it meant that she was truly moving on from the past. At least one of them could. "You've denied yourself long enough. Why do you keep insisting that you are already dead when you still have so much life in you?"

Stacker winced. "That's not a fair question, love."

"You taught me never to ask the fair questions, only the right ones."

"I suppose I did." He sighed, rubbed at his jaw. And gave her the truth. "It's complicated. Yes, I like him. But he...he's far too young." It seemed the simplest answer.

She leaned down so they were at eye level. "He is an adult, sensei. Do him the honor of treating him and his choices with the dignity he deserves."

She didn't wait for an answer before she straightened and walked out. Stacker could only admire the exit and marvel that he'd taught her even better than he'd dreamed.

***

His talk with Mako did give him the nudge he needed to find Tendo to have a long overdue discussion, however. Stacker found him and Raleigh working together in the main bay, both of them laughing and loose, relaxed around each other and in their own skin in a way that Stacker had never been, not even when he'd been young. Why was it that Chuck hadn't gone after someone like Raleigh? Someone young and vital and with a future. Perhaps he'd nudge Chuck in Raleigh's direction. He'd feel better knowing that Chuck was with someone closer to his own age. Someone with more years ahead of him than behind him.

He hadn't saved Chuck's life (even if he couldn't remember actually doing it) only for him to sit by and watch Chuck throw his best years away on a man who didn't have much time left. He finally knew exactly how Tamsin had felt on that long ago day when she'd urged Stacker out the door, told him not to stick around and watch her die.

But he could still make sure his daughter – and the other people he cared for – were well taken care of.

"Tendo, do you mind if I borrow you for a moment," Stacker said, motioning for Tendo to join him.

"Sure thing." Tendo walked up, an easy smile on his face. "What can I do for you?"

"It's about Mako."

Tendo's lips thinned, even though he didn't lose the smile. "If this is a shovel talk, I really think you should buy me a drink first. At least, it'll go down easier if we're both lubed up for it."

"I would never dishonor either of you in that manner. However, you do realize if you do anything to make her unhappy..." Stacker trailed off, knowing he didn't need to finish the rest.

"Yessir, I do," Tendo replied, prompt and polite as always. He and Mako would be a good match for each other. He'd smooth out her edges and she'd push him to new limits. "Just as long as you realize you'll have more than just Herc to deal with if you break Chuck's heart."

Mako, Stacker thought, and wasn't sure if he should be amused or insulted that Tendo Choi was trying to turn the tables on him. "And who appointed you his guardian?"

"No one. I'm just a concerned friend who's watched him grow up."

"Yeah, I suppose we all have," Stacker mused.

Tendo clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll do everything I can to make her happy. I suggest you do the same."

"I will," Stacker said, and motioned Raleigh to him once Tendo had walked away.

"You'll look after him." He didn't bother to mince words or phrase it as a question, and Raleigh was smart enough to know it. And smart enough not to ask what – who – Stacker was talking about. They both knew.

"Always. But he's yours now."

"No, he isn't."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but if you think Chuck's going to walk away from this or from you, then you're making a big mistake," Raleigh said. "He's gonna fight you on this."

"I've made my decision." No matter what, he couldn't do it. He couldn't take that risk. Not with someone else's heart. Best to nip it in the bud before anything ever even started.

"Well, if you don't mind me saying so, it's a pretty stupid one."

"Actually, I do mind."

"Tough," Raleigh said, blue eyes snapping with irritation. "Look, I know we're not exactly best friends, but I've known you a long time. And you knew me well enough to give me a push when I needed it, when I needed to connect back with the world and regain the part of me that died with Yancy. So let's just consider this returning the favor."

"Why are you pushing this?"

"Because I love him."

That didn't make any sense. "Then you should be happy I'm giving him to you."

"You really are an idiot when it comes to people, aren't you?" Raleigh grinned, but there was no hint of cruelty in it, just a gentle teasing. "First off, you can't just give him to me like he's a piece of furniture or a teddy bear you've outgrown. He's a person, and he gets a say in his own life and his own happiness. Second, yeah, I do love him, which means I want his happiness. And you make him happy. That simple."

"Nothing is that simple." At least, it wasn't in Stacker's experience.

"This is Chuck," Raleigh said, his grin widening. "For him, it's definitely that simple."

"He'll be better off with you."

"Man, I'd love to be the fly on the wall when you tell him that," Raleigh said, clapping him on the back as if in sympathy.

Stacker didn't have a ready answer.

***

Chapter Text

He didn't trust himself to meet Chuck's chopper when he landed back at the Shatterdome. Instead, he waited until that night, well after everyone else had retired, and made his way to Chuck's quarters.

Time to do this, Stacker thought, and tugged at the hem of his jacket before knocking on the door. Chuck answered almost immediately. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of gray sleep pants. Stacker felt a deep, unwelcome urge to pull Chuck to him, explore all of that pale, freckled skin. Desire, so long denied, threatened to undermine his best intentions.

Chuck leaned against the jamb, Max pressing against his calves and staring up at Stacker out of liquid eyes. "Well, well well. Stacker Pentecost at my door late at night. You know the neighbors'll talk."

"May I come in?"

"Yeah, sure." Chuck gave him just enough room to squeeze past. He smelled of soap and Max, the combination heady. As soon as he shut the door, he turned. Max trotted over to his doggie bed and curled into a ball, contentedly mangling a chew toy. "So, what brings you to my doorstep?"

Stacker noticed the opened book on the bedside table, grasped onto it like a lifeline. "I see you've moved onto the tragedies."

"Yeah, good old Lear, dumb as dog shit about the things that really matter and a cocked up sense of pride," Chuck said, and the way he looked at Stacker while he said made his meaning unmistakable.

It wouldn't be the first time Stacker'd been accused of being too stubborn for his own good.

"But I don't think you're here to debate Shakespeare."

"No, I'm not. I wanted to ask you about the testing."

"Yeah, sure, alright," Chuck said, giving Stacker another look that clearly said he thought otherwise. "I thought you'd gotten the updates."

"I did, but I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Tests went fine, Doc's got the results, they think maybe we should Drift together again."

"Do you think we should?"

"I think I want you to stop bullshitting around and tell me why you're really here," Chuck replied, with a calm, serious look.

He had every intention of gently turning Chuck down, of stating his reasons simply and concisely – their age difference, his medical condition, the oddity of sleeping with his best friend's son – but all of the words, all of the reasons, dried up in his throat like rain falling on desert sand. Chuck stood there, hair tousled, his perfect, youthful body on full display, his eyes flashing with energy and life. So much life that Stacker felt consumed by it, like he'd drown if he couldn't find some way to hold on.

Stacker lifted a hand, dropped it. "This won't end well."

"Yeah, you've said." Chuck didn't move. But the air around them shifted, seemed to press in close. "But I'm willing to take that leap if you are."

"You know Raleigh's in love with you." Raleigh, who could offer Chuck so much more than Stacker ever could.

"Yeah, well, that's something he's going to have to learn to deal with, now, isn't it."

"But you did sleep with him." Stacker didn't know why it was so important that Chuck admit it, but he still found himself waiting for an answer.

To his credit, Chuck didn't bother with either denying it or looking embarrassed. "Yeah, I did. Right after they cleared me and Raleigh after Pitfall, in fact. I was so keyed up and so grateful to be alive and I couldn't have you yet – I couldn't even let myself think about having you yet – and Raleigh found me. I don't – he wasn't a substitute, though. I mean, I wanted it. Wanted him."

"I get it." He did, all too well, and he was the last person to judge. "Go on."

"We spent a few days together, made a big dent in his bottle of lube, my box of condoms, never even left the bed. But I..." He ran a hand through his hair, shrugged. "Somewhere at the end of it, I told him I owed it to myself and to him to see if I could make a run at seeing if I could have something with you. That I'd never really be able to be with him if I didn't at least try, if I never had the guts to go there. And he...he got it. Said he'd back my play, no matter what."

"He's a better man than I would have been in that situation."

"Well, it's not like he's pining away for me in some dark room somewhere," Chuck said, with a laugh. "He's getting out there and having a life and getting laid, all that ruck. Think he's seeing one of the LOCCENT techs now – Nate or Neil or some such."

"He doesn't seem the pining type," Stacker said, then added, "you know you could do a lot worse when I'm –"

Chuck cut him off. "Christ's sake, put a sock in it. You're not dead yet, I'm not going anywhere and you're fucking well stuck with me. I don't wanna think about anyone else right now, and you shouldn't either."

"Just promise me you'll be happy." He didn't think he could bear letting another person in his life down, even if he wouldn't be around to do anything about it.

"I'm happy right now." Chuck smiled, showing off those dimples, probably on purpose. "Although if you need me to prove it, I think it'll work a lot better if we're naked."

"It's not that simple," Stacker protested. He felt like he was stuck in a feedback loop.

"Yeah, it really is." Chuck stepped closer. "And since we're on the subject of sex, however, maybe we could talk less about Raleigh and more about the two of us."

Moment of truth. But the real truth was, he'd been doomed the second he walked through Chuck's door. May as well be hung for the actual crime. He stepped forward, placed his hand over Chuck's heart, felt the reassuring thump, noted the contrast between their skin. Wondered what they'd look like without the barrier of clothing between them. "I don't know what you want from me."

"That's alright, because I know exactly what I want from you. You've given enough of your life to others. Hell, so have I. This is about taking something just for the two of us," Chuck told him, but before Stacker could unravel what Chuck meant, Chuck's lips were on his, and his hands were pushing at Stacker's jacket. It fell to the floor, and Stacker let his own hands roam along the warm expanse of Chuck's back.

He'd been a fool for thinking he could deny either of them at least this one night.

"I'll beg if I have to, but I really hope you won't make me," Chuck murmured, nipping at Stacker's lower lip.

"And if I want you mindless and begging, what then?" Stacker asked, throwing caution to the wind, and finally giving in to the reckless abandon coursing through him.

Chuck's eyes darkened. "Then I reckon I'd start by asking why you're wearing so many bloody clothes."

Stacker stepped back, raised his chin in unmistakable challenge and lifted his shoulders in a very deliberate shrug. "Maybe because no one's taken the initiative to undress me."

"You're a right arsehole." Chuck grinned, like he was chuffed by Stacker's attitude, and eagerly starting attacking Stacker's shirt buttons. He made a small noise when it finally slid to the floor on top of Stacker's jacket, the under-shirt following a moment later. "You have any idea how many times I've thought about this? Getting my hands on you like this?"

"No," Stacker answered, honestly, and gave in to the temptation to run his fingers along Chuck's sternum, traced the line of freckles dotting pale skin. He could give them both this, could give Chuck the honesty of his need and give voice to the want thrumming through him, bright and alive and grounding him to the present the way nothing else had in a very long time.

Chuck simply smiled and led him over to the bed, pushed him onto messy sheets, and followed, covered him with his own body. Stacker allowed his hands to wander and map, sought out firm muscle and sensitized nerves as they traded kiss after kiss, each one bleeding into the next in a quiet haze of desire. Chuck acted like he'd be content to do simply this all night, to neck and touch and not take it any further. Only the feel of Chuck's cock, hard and straining against Stacker's own, even through the barrier of clothing between them, belied the easy nature of the touches and kisses.

Chuck's eyes were bright, glassy, when he lifted his head. "Tell me what you want. Because if this is it, I'm fine with it. Honestly."

Chuck was offering another out, if Stacker wanted to take it. It surprised him how much he didn't. "I want you," he stated, simple and sure, and rolled his hips up. "I want this."

Chuck's breath stuttered. He went still above Stacker. "How...?"

Stacker knew his grin was filthy wide. "You really need my permission to fuck me through the mattress?"

"Oh fuck..." Chuck jerked as his head dropped to Stacker's shoulder. "Jesus, Stacker..."

"Is that a yes?" Stacker teased, sliding his hands down to cup Chuck's exceptional ass.

"Yes, fuck, yes," Chuck huffed out, high and breathless. "But I was gonna...I mean, I thought you'd want me to –"

"I want you inside me," Stacker interrupted, and raked hard teeth along the juncture of Chuck's neck and shoulder, tasted sweat and citrus. "I want you to fuck me hard enough to make me forget everything that's not you. Think you're up for it?"

"If you don't stop talking, I'm not gonna be much use to either of us," Chuck warned, and ducked in to give Stacker a hard kiss before he clambered off the bed.

Stacker tucked a pillow under his head and settled back to admire the line of Chuck's body as he quickly rid himself of his sleep pants and stood before him. Every inch of Chuck was beautifully proportioned, solid and muscled and perfect, from the width of his shoulders to the light scars on his right hip to the strength of his legs. And the fact that this man wanted him, had sought him out, when he could have had his pick of partners, was as humbling as it was exhilarating.

He let out a low, admiring whistle. "You gonna put on a show for me?"

Chuck laughed, the dimples grooving either side of his mouth, and started tugging at Stacker's belt. "Let's shelve that for later. I've got a promise to keep."

"Yes, you do." It stunned him how eager he was for Chuck to collect, as well. It had been far too long since he'd let himself have the luxury of this, of teasing and banter during sex. He dutifully lifted his hips when Chuck directed him, allowed Chuck to finish undressing him in a few short movements.

"Beauty, mate, just look at you," Chuck marveled, low and reverent. The tips of his fingers were unbearably light on too sensitized skin. "You're fucking gorgeous, you know that, yeah?"

It was Stacker's turn to squirm in both embarrassment and need. "Chuck..."

"Yeah, I know, you're shite with compliments. But you gotta give me this." Chuck set a strip of condoms and a bottle of lube on the bedside table, then crawled back on top of Stacker again, stretched himself out until there wasn't a molecule of space between them. And this time, every kiss held a world of intent behind it. Stacker met the sweep of Chuck's tongue with his own, arched into every touch of Chuck's hands, mapped his own path along every bit of flesh he could reach. He couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted something – someone – this much. He could feel the air between them popping and crackling, a barely contained storm he couldn't wait to unleash.

"Any other night, I'd be fine with just this," Chuck said, sliding his teeth along Stacker's jawline. "You and me, rutting against each other like a couple of horny rabbits..."

"Any other night, I might let you," Stacker replied, and slid a hand between them to wrap around Chuck's cock. "But not tonight." Tonight, he wanted all of that energy and vitality inside of him. Wanted to harness it and ride it out until nothing else existed.

"Fuck..." Chuck let out a small moan. "Your hands..."

"Tell me what you want," Stacker urged, tightening his fingers on the upstroke.

"A zero refractory period," Chuck said, biting back another small noise as his hips flexed in response. "If I did, I'd let you get me off like this, then slick myself up, push inside you...I want everything. Every part of you."

"We've got all night." Stacker couldn't promise any more than that, but he could give them this. Wanted to give them this.

"Yeah." Chuck nodded, gave Stacker another hard kiss, and sat up, knelt between Stacker's thighs. He grabbed the bottle of lube, slicked up two fingers. "How much prep do you need?"

"I'll let you know." It had been some time, but he remembered the drill well enough.

Stacker tried not to wince or shy away at the first press of Chuck's finger inside him. Chuck was gentle enough, but it was still an invasion, and it had been some time since he'd trusted anyone enough to do this. To lay himself open and allow another person to take control.

"You steady or...?"

"I'm good," Stacker rasped, but welcomed the distraction when Chuck leaned back in for another series of drugging, deep kisses. Gradually, he got used to the feel of Chuck's fingers, and urged Chuck to keep going, to open him further. It helped that Chuck was a firm believer in going slow, allowing Stacker plenty of time to adjust.

"I like you like this," Chuck remarked. He had three fingers inside Stacker at this point, and his smile was relaxed and so affectionate Stacker ached just looking at it. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had looked at him like that, like he was someone worth savoring.

"Like what?" Stacker asked, lifting his hips to meet the next twist. The sheets were starting to stick to his back. His entire body felt overheated and raw.

"At my mercy. I think I'll keep you just like this."

"I'm right here..."

"I know," and it felt like Chuck was making a declaration of some type, but Stacker couldn't suss out what it was through the roaring in his ears. He grabbed Chuck's wrist to still his movements.

"Now."

Chuck's adam's apple bobbed when he nodded, and Stacker noticed his hands were shaking when he rolled on the condom, slicked his cock with even more lube. It was gratifying to see that young, arrogant Chuck Hansen was capable of nerves.

"Ready?" Chuck asked, but didn't exactly wait for affirmation before starting the slow push inside Stacker's body. They both groaned in unison when Chuck bottomed out.

"How long's it been?" Chuck asked, smoothing the trickle of sweat off of Stacker's forehead.

"Awhile," Stacker admitted, loathe to put a number on exactly how long. "But I'm alright. I won't break."

"I never thought you would," Chuck replied, and started to move, nice and easy, with sure, deep strokes.

Everything took on a hazy sheen, like Stacker was looking at the world through a waterfall. He clung to Chuck's shoulders, wrapped his legs around Chuck's hips and concentrated on the small moments of clarity. Chuck's warm breath against his ear, Chuck's jackrabbit heartbeat knocking against his chest, the heat of Chuck's body pressing into him, every slow, steady thrust taking him apart from the inside out. He'd never been fucked like this – like his pleasure was the only thing that mattered. It was heady, addictive, something he could come to crave if he wasn't careful.

If only he had more time...

"Stop thinking," Chuck told him, and swooped down to scrape his teeth across Stacker's lower lip.

Stacker could only muster a low moan as he met the next roll of Chuck's hips. And when Chuck wormed a hand between them, stroked his cock with the same easy, long strokes, Stacker finally took Chuck's words to heart and let go.

***

Stacker pulled Chuck to him, floated in a post-orgasmic haze. He felt loose-limbed and lethargic. Chuck rested his head on Stacker's shoulder, traced idle patterns on Stacker's chest, and the silence was easy now, neither one in a hurry to speak.

He had no idea how much time passed, but he could hear Max's muffled snores, so he figured it had to be pretty late.

"I should head back to my quarters soon."

Chuck lifted his head and gave Stacker a disbelieving look. "If you think I have any intentions of letting you out of this bed for the next week, you best think again. Now that I've gotten a taste of you, you're well and truly stuck with me."

Stacker couldn't exactly say he was surprised. And, in truth, he wasn't in any hurry to leave the warm confines of Chuck's bed or the man who was sprawled on top of him like the world's most attractive blanket. He could give them the night. "That an invitation to stay?"

"Not really, no. Like I said, I'm not giving you a choice in the matter."

"I see," Stacker said, amused.

"Good," Chuck replied, and settled right back where he was.

***

Chapter Text

Stacker woke the next morning to warm, wet heat surrounding his cock, and heavy-lidded eyes opened wide enough to see Chuck lying between his thighs, his lips stretched wide and obscene around him. Every nerve in his body shifted into shattering awareness, and between one breath and the next, he buried his hands in Chuck's hair and held on as Chuck took him apart.

He sank into sensation, met the slide of Chuck's lips with every roll of his hips. Time slowed, then seemed to still altogether. His blood felt like molasses, heavy and sluggish. He came moaning Chuck's name, a broken chant.

"Morning," Chuck said and smiled, kissing his way up Stacker's stomach and chest.

"That it is," Stacker agreed, and pulled Chuck up to him for a kiss. He tasted himself on Chuck's tongue, sharp and bitter, but he didn't mind. In fact, he thought he could get used to it. Which should have scared him, but he was feeling a little too lazy to care.

He slid his hand down, moved to cover Chuck's cock to return the favor, but Chuck stopped him. "I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Then Chuck shrugged, sheepish and almost nervous. "I've, um...there's something I've been meaning to, well...you know what, just hold on."

He rolled over and fumbled around in the bedside drawer before depositing a box on Stacker's chest. "I got this for you while I was in New York. I was gonna wait, but after last night, I figured maybe it's time."

All thoughts of reciprocation vanished. He knew full well – or thought he did – what a box that size meant. "Chuck, you know I can't –"

"Just open the damn thing first before you say anything," Chuck said, rolling his eyes.

Stacker flipped the lid open and looked at the ring. It was a plain gold band with a small, discreet diamond nestled in the middle. Unpretentious, simple, and perfect. His throat closed and his entire body ached with want. He looked up at Chuck's hopeful expression and felt every single one of the years separating them. "You know I can't take this."

No matter how much a part of him might wish otherwise. It wouldn't be fair or right.

Chuck's brows furrowed. "Why the hell not?"

Stacker waited. And waited. The air grew still around them, heavy and oppressive. This was it, then, Stacker thought. He'd had his moment in the sun, but reality was a cold, harsh mistress.

"Oh fuck you," Chuck finally said, and the even way he said it made Stacker flinch like Chuck had shouted. Chuck pressed the ring into Stacker's palm, the weight heavy, a burden he wasn't sure he could bear. "Take it, for fuck's sake. Take me. Take something for yourself for once in your bloody life."

If only he could. "It's not about that..."

"You're wrong. It is exactly about that. Yes, I know, you're dying," Chuck said, cutting off Stacker's argument before he even had it fully formed. His hand trembled, but his gaze was steady. Sure. An ocean of calm that still managed to pull Stacker under, a willing victim. "But don't you want to live before you go? I didn't save your bloody life after Pitfall only to watch you waste it on duty and more sacrifice. You've done enough. You're here, you're alive, fucking act like it."

"Chuck..." No matter the cost, he couldn't do this. Couldn't make that promise, couldn't take that leap. "You deserve so much more."

Abruptly, Chuck swung his feet off the bed, grabbed his sleep pants, and stood. "Put on some clothes. I want to show you something."

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"I don't give a right shit. You owe me."

He should leave. That would be the smart choice, the only right choice. But instead, Stacker set the ring carefully back in its box and stood. He tugged on his pants and his under-shirt and followed Chuck out into the hallway and down two levels to the gym.

He stopped when they got to the Kwoon. "Planning on trying to beat some sense into me?" He tried to make it teasing, but even he could hear how flat it sounded.

Chuck didn't smile. He tossed a Bō stick at Stacker. "Something like that," he said, and rolled his neck, met Stacker's inquisitive look with one of his patented stubborn ones. "You don't fucking get it, and that's fine, I can work with that."

"Get what?"

"You and me. There's a reason why we Drifted so well together in Striker, and there's a reason why I still feel you up here –" he tapped his temple " – and there's a reason why we've been drawn to each other the last few months since Pitfall."

"You've..." Images, flickers of emotion, feelings he couldn't explain, the way the air pulsed when they were together, trickled through his brain like water over rocks. "We've been ghost-Drifting?"

"Yeah. We have." Chuck held up his own Bō stick. "And I'm willing to bet a considerable sum that you and me, we could do this dance blindfolded."

"I'm just as glad we're not," Stacker replied, and to hell with it, he thought. He owed Chuck the chance to prove his point. Without another word, he made his opening move. Chuck smoothly met him with his own counter-move, and the next half hour passed in a blur of movement and controlled speed.

Each move flowed smoothly into another, point to point, beat for beat. Chuck met every sweep, every kick, every hit, almost like he was reading Stacker's mind. They were a well-oiled machine, working in complete concert. It didn't matter that they'd never done this before.

Without speaking, they both stopped and faced each other across the mat. Chuck sucked in deep breaths, and his hair was matted to his head. Stacker was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and his limbs were trembling, but he couldn't remember ever feeling so alive. He felt aware, in tune, like he could touch all of infinity in Chuck's steady gaze. No Drift, no dialogue, no simulation had ever felt like this, not even with Tamsin.

"We're Drift compatible," Chuck finally said, and the truth of it echoed somewhere deep inside Stacker, burrowed under his skin to the heart of who he was. "Always have been. It just took you awhile to see it is all."

Drift compatible. Such small words for the terrifying churning of feeling inside him. And yet, there was no denying that Chuck was right. It was time to finally face what Chuck had been trying, without success, to tell him for months.

"Promise me you'll live after I die," he said, surprising himself.

"What?"

"Promise me." He stepped in and closed his fingers around Chuck's. Felt the calluses and the strength, let both warm him, drew his own courage from the power of Chuck's faith. "Promise me you'll love again, get married, have children who will have your eyes and your bloody stubborn streak, that you'll continue to be my daughter's best friend and that you'll look out for your father –"

Chuck's look softened. He pressed a soft kiss to Stacker's jaw, his lips grazing the stubble, the touch soothing and light. "Yes. I promise." Then he leaned back, raised an eyebrow. "Your go, mate."

Perfectly arrogant and perfectly Chuck, and Stacker wouldn't have him any other way. "I can't accept your ring. Not yet."

Chuck's eyes narrowed. "That's not a no."

"No, it isn't. But what say we take a page from your book and try living in the now for a little while?"

"Carpe diem and all that poetic rot?" Chuck replied, sounding amused. "Thus, though we cannot make our sun stand still, yet we will make him run, sound about right?"

"You're going to lecture me on romance when you're the one who bought me a ring before we'd even slept together?" Stacker asked, tracing the freckles that dotted Chuck's cheeks with his eyes. Memorized the look on Chuck's face, drew it in a mental tattoo under his skin. No matter how much time he had left, he never wanted to forget this moment, this man, this feeling.

"Yeah, I did, and I'll get you to say yes to it eventually. But I think I can live with this for now." Chuck nodded, his throat working. "We can do whatever you want, go wherever you want. Stay here and keep working on the 'Dome or fuck off to some island instead and become layabouts or, I dunno, take up macramé together, I don't care. I just want you. As much time as we can wring out together."

"What do you want, though?" Stacker got the feeling not too many people in Chuck's life had ever bother to ask that question.

"Never thought about it too much. Maybe a house near a beach somewhere with a yard for Max? Another dog to keep him company? Maybe do some traveling, see a bit of the world before I settle down to be a full-time student?"

"Travel sounds good," Stacker said, and maybe it wasn't exactly what Chuck wanted to hear, but maybe this was what Tamsin really meant all those years ago, after all. That he should live each day to the fullest, give himself over to love and to others. His future wasn't set in stone, and maybe he didn't have too many years left, but with Chuck's help, maybe he could learn how to make the most of the time he did have left.

"We'll figure it out."

"We'll figure it out together," Stacker promised, and sealed it with another kiss.

END.