for driftcompatible

[striker_eureka]

There is absolutely no worse feeling than knowing that your child died from a direct result of your actions.

Herc had watched Chuck fall to his death screaming, Leatherback's angry roar not enough to drown out the terrified noise that ripped from his son's throat before the ocean swallowed him up and his armor dragged him down. It left Herc shell-shocked, useless even without his broken clavicle, and he was honestly surprised when Stacker left him in charge of the final mission.

He wouldn't have.

But somehow he managed, somehow he was able to stand there in the LOCCENT, was able to direct the last two Jaegers to finish the mission and seal the breach forever. They knew they were going to die. Every pilot does when they strap themselves in. Herc had stepped up to that microphone knowing that he would listen to the death of his best friend and his maybe-girlfriend, and it was only what he deserved for killing his son. He had to listen to Chuck die, too. It seems fitting.

Striker Eureka detonated in a giant nuclear explosion and Herc felt what was left of his heart shatter, leaving him a hollow man-shaped shell.

He was only able to get through the press dockets and the paperwork and ordering the decontamination protocols because he had done all this before and his autopilot instincts were good. But if anyone were to look at the footage, they would see a broken man, haggard and grieving, the light gone out of his eyes, every fiber screaming he'd given up.

Most days now, Herc drinks himself into oblivion with cheap moonshine, hoping to numb the agony he feels with every breath. It never works.

Comments

[striker_eureka]

"I'm sorry," he whispers, letting her roll him over, the tears he can't stop from leaking out of his eyes trailing down to get lost in the graying hair at his temples.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

[driftcompatible]

Mako is going to sit here with him all night and watch him, fingertips gently massaging his temples.

"I know, Hercules."

Her voice is quiet and strained.

"I know. I forgive you." If that is what he needs, then Mako offers it freely, right here on the floor of his room with his head in her lap.

[striker_eureka]

"So...sorry..."

He finally drifts off to sleep, but it's by no means a restful one. He's plagued by nightmares, old familiar dreams of death and pain and so much sorrow that he usually wakes up with tears on his face and a scream caught in his throat.

He's motionless, though, his limbs too heavy and his brain too sozzled to be able to move anymore.

So that's something.

[driftcompatible]

Mako Mori takes after Stacker in so, so many ways. Even before he brought her in under his wing, Mako was a serious child, very studious though inherently curious about the world. Her parents had died when she was very young and Stacker Pentecost was more like a father than her real family, because he was the most prominent and memorable presence in her life growing up.

She does not even remember what her real father sounded like.

Mako inherited Stacker’s ability to be a fixed point – the last ‘man’ standing. Right now, she is Hercules Hansen’s fixed point, his beacon of hope in a sea of sorrow. She stays awake and watches over him, a vigilant guardian, ensuring his safety.

When he wakes up, Mako is sitting there with him, awake and alert though her eyes are tired and there are shadows in her features.

“Hercules.” She’s quiet, her voice soft. “Are you awake?”

[striker_eureka]

He finally blinks open bleary eyes and looks up at the vision staring down at him. There's no reaction on his face, not disbelief, not fear, not shock, nothing.

"I don't think so," he mumbles finally. "You're still here."

[driftcompatible]

Cool but solid fingers press against his cheeks, smoothing at his skin.

"Yes. I watched over you. Are you thirsty?"

The water is still sitting where she had put it, within her reach.

[striker_eureka]

He mutely shakes his head, afraid if they move at all she'll disappear and he'll wake up for real and he'll be alone again.

Even a dream Mako is better than being alone.

[driftcompatible]

She decides then that he still must be drunk. She sighs and withholds her tears, shifting him a little and forcing him to sit up and lean his back against her chest, arms and legs locking around him as she rests against a wall for support.

"Mmm. You will later, when the headache comes."

[striker_eureka]

This is a very strange dream. Still, he's never been able to deny her anything, even in the short amount of time they got to be together, so he doesn't fight her when she tries to get him to move and sit up against her.

He leans back against her chest and rests his head on her shoulder, tilting his head a little until his forehead rests against her jaw.

"I don't know what to do," he breathes, confused by how solid she seems behind him. How real. "I'm so alone now that you're gone."

[driftcompatible]

Her palms smooth over his chest, feeling the planes of a still well muscled body beneath her hands.

“You are a strong man, Hercules Hansen,” Mako murmurs in his ear, breath ghosting over his skin. “We will figure out a way, together.”

She inhales slowly, holds it, then lets it out.

"If I tell you my story, I need two things from you. I need you to remember it later, and for you to believe me. Be honest, Hercules. Are you still drunk?"

[striker_eureka]

She feels so good pressed up behind him. He wants so badly to believe that she's real, but...she's not. She's dead. He knows she is, he watched her life signs blink out on the screen.

"I...think so," he admits finally. "Been drinking pretty steadily since—since you died."

[driftcompatible]

She's silent for a moment, clearly debating her next move. She's stiff, sore and aching, and she desperately needs to go to the bathroom and she would very much like a shower.

She does none of these things, instead she simply presses her face into his shoulder and drags in a breath. He smells of alcohol and sweat, but still like him, too.

"What would you say if I told you that I am not dead?" She finally asks, cheek resting against his shirt.

[striker_eureka]

"Don't think I'd believe you."

He sighs, his hands finally lifting to clumsily rest over hers where she's got them pressed to his chest. He has to pee too, but that would require getting up and out of her arms and he's afraid she'll disappear if he so much as blinks.

"Heard you die. Watched it, too. I get to watch everyone I love die. Musta been a right bastard in a past life or something, to deserve this."

[driftcompatible]

She thought as much. She supposed that she can understand, because if the situation was reversed, she would be hard pressed to believe it.

Still. It's very sad, very upsetting and she wants to go somewhere and quietly lose her shit in private, but she doesn't dare leave him.

"You are a complicated man, Hercules. Not bad, but complicated. You do not deserve the cards you have been dealt, but you have played them to the best of your ability. You still have more to play, though. I will not let you give up, not now."

Now when she's got him back.

[striker_eureka]

"Nah, love, I'm all played out."

He sighs and closes his eyes, slumping back against her, limbs heavy and limp like he's already dead. He has no idea what's going on anymore, if she's real or if she's not, but he's clinging to his plan because he understand his plan. His plan is solid.

"This is it for me. I'm not needed anymore. Just gonna...walk out into the ocean and die like I was supposed to."

[driftcompatible]

"Even if I am real?" She presses the point gently, even while panic threatens to overtake her emotions. "Even if I am really here, sitting behind you and telling you I love you and I need you?"

Maybe it's selfish. It probably is. He's had more than his fair share of heartbreak, who is she to demand that he stay for her?

[striker_eureka]

"Sweetheart, I can't..." He sucks in a sobbing breath, his fingers clutching at her wrists. "If I believe you're real and then you're not..."

It takes him a second to get his breath back under control. "I can't lose you again. You were all I had left and then you died and if that happens again..." He doesn't cry, but he's tempted to.

[driftcompatible]

She lets him clutch her, lets him grip her wrists in his hands.

"I know, I know..." Hell, even Mako is beginning to doubt her own reality. Maybe she is a ghost, sent back for a final farewell.

"Wait until you are sober at least. Please. You promised me another day. Hold that promise, wait until you can think more clearly before you do anything."

[striker_eureka]

He wouldn't be able to survive it if Mako vanished from his sight after he allowed himself to believe she was real. It would be just too cruel; hasn't he suffered enough already? Must he go through more agony to atone for his sins?

"...Okay." He nods against her shoulder, squeezing her hands. "If that's what you want, sweetheart."

He turns his head and presses an uncoordinated kiss to her collar. "I'd do anything for you."

[driftcompatible]

"Thank you, Hercules."

Her cheek presses against his, the little kiss causing her shoulders to shake and her heart to break a little more.

"I need--" she ears her throat because she's choked up and can't speak.

"I need to use your bathroom. Will you...rest while I do that?"

[striker_eureka]

He clutches at her wrists a little tighter in panic, but manages to swallow it down enough to peel his fingers back from her arms so he and sit up and let her go.

"I'll try."

His eyes are huge in his face when he manages to turn to look at her, big and bloodshot as he nods tremblingly.

"Don't go, though. I miss you."

[driftcompatible]

She cups his face and brings him in for a trembling kiss, mouth warm on his.

“I won’t go. I won’t. I’ll be back.”

She’s just -- got to go relieve herself and take a shower. She hasn’t bathed in a week – she thinks, because truly she’s beginning to wonder if she’s actually alive – and she desperately needs to wash the oil and seawater from her hair.

She’s fast about it, once she peels herself out of his arms and makes sure that he’s comfortable and that he isn’t going to get up and go walk into the fucking ocean – she takes maybe ten minutes, at the most and when she reemerges from the bathroom she’s in his shirt again, hair wet and face pink from scrubbing.

“Hercules…?”

[striker_eureka]

He's drunk the water by the time she came back and is longingly eying the whiskey bottle that's over on his desk, but he hasn't moved from the blanket she laid out for them. The blanket is something she touched. If he gets off the blanket, who knows what will happen.

So he stays put.

"Mako..."

It's a good thing he's still pretty convinced she's not real, because he would hate for her to see him like this, weak and useless and scared. He still doesn't know what she sees in him, a man almost twice her age, old and creaky and damaged, but he doesn't want to ruin whatever illusion he managed to cast.

But it doesn't matter, here, because she's not really real.

He thinks.

[driftcompatible]

She’s immediately back on the blanket with him, crawling towards him so she can gather him back up into her arms and pull him into a tight embrace that she keeps for several long minutes.

“God, Hercules—“

Her voice cracks and she’s horrified to feel moisture on his shirt; she’s crying, she’s losing it right here in his arms and that is exactly what she didn’t want to do, what she’d been trying to avoid but she just can’t help it.

[striker_eureka]

"No, Mako..."

He reaches for her and pulls her into his arms, burying his nose in her wet hair as he hugs her close to his chest. Her hair is wet, she smells like his shampoo, she feels solid and real...

Maybe he can let himself believe she's actually alive.

"Don't cry, sweetheart, please."