Archive of Our Own ^beta

The radiation effects Alphas and Omegas differently. They don’t find that out until too late, which isn’t surprising as early jaeger techs didn’t have the time to give a damn about radiation shielding. They did what they could, the doctors dosed the pilots up on metharocin and they shoved them out the hanger bay doors to fight kaiju.

They learn later that alpha jaeger pilots handle the radiation output better than betas and omegas. They’re two marks in before they learn that omega pilots run the risk of infertility, three when they find out even later that there’s no mere ‘risk’ involved. The newspapers have a field day; the public panics and the brass have trouble on their hands. Jaeger pilots don’t have a very long shelf life in the first place and with their populations being decimated by kaiju attacks the people of the world know that omegas are the best bet for repopulation. Omegas had been humanities secret weapons against extinction since the beginning. When plagues or natural disasters decimated a population, an omegas body went into overdrive, not even genocide could stop mankind’s procreative genius. When omega populations dipped too low, betas had been known to transition (and also when there weren’t enough alphas around).

There were some people who called for omegas to be banned from piloting, taken out of the PPDC entirely, thrown out of the military and kept safe somewhere inland. (There were rumors too, of secret breeding facilities where the rich and powerful kept select omegas ‘safe’.) Pentecost put his foot down and the brass, seeing how people were dying all over the world of every color, creed, nationality, gender and dynamic, decided against denying omegas the ability to serve. The mark IVs, when they rolled out, had solved the radiation shielding problem. They would also be the last jaeger to have a new omega pilot at the throttle. No official rules had been made to force them out but but politics and public opinion had decimated the omegas in the ranks. Raleigh Beckett would be the last one to graduate from the jaeger academy.

He wouldn’t be the only omega to step foot into a new jaeger. Herc Hansen would hold that title when he and his son were given Striker Eureka.

--

“But.” Herc grips the sleeve of Doctor Huang’s labcoat. It should have been, was supposed to be, a routine physical. Just a checkup after taking down Mutavore, make sure nothing got too bruised or broken, etc. The bloodwork was routine, to check for illnesses and a holdover from the days when they were constantly looking over their shoulders in case of radiation poisoning.“I was a test pilot.”

The doctor doesn’t need that explained to her. She understands, everyone understands, everyone knows. Herc doesn’t know how bad Stacker is, as close as they are Stacker isn’t one to talk about weaknesses, Herc knows the radiation affected him somewhat even if he wasn’t likely to die of cancer like Tamsin. Hercules’ knows that the Russians still drive a mark I and while Sasha might be an alpha woman there was still a chance the radiation would affect her negatively as well. Alphas did better than betas but women and omegas… well, they suffered different side effects.

Herc doesn’t need to spell it out to Huang, there is just no way her data can be right.

Huang is still frowning down at the lab results. What she’s seeing… if it’s true, it’s remarkable. If it isn’t true it no doubt adds insult to injury. Hercules Hansen might not be quite on the same level as Stacker Pentecost in terms of ‘legend’ but he has driven every mark of jaegar made (even if it was only in testing). He was one of the first pilots. Everyone knows that Herc lost his wife and EVERYONE knows how antagonistic the relationship between the two Hansen men is. If what she’s looking at is wrong, or worse some lab tech’s idea of a joke, it adds insult to injury. “I’ll have them run these tests again.” She sets her clipboard down. “And there are others we can use to double check.”

Herc sets his jaw and nods, agreeing to whatever she needs to do.

It turns out they have a miracle on their hands. Hercules isn’t the oldest omega to ever conceive, although 45 puts him pretty close, but he is the only early omega jaegar pilot.

Later, when Huang is curled up on her tiny bunk under blankets she wonders if there are any other omegas test pilots still alive. She’ll do some research tomorrow. Many jaegar pilots had retired, for one reason or another, although more had been killed. Perhaps there were omegas or women out there who would be overjoyed to find out they could, if they wished, build a family.

Or maybe, when told, they would get the same look on their faces as Hercules Hansen.

--

He thinks about getting drunk.

(He doesn’t. He’s pretty sure, if he remembers things right, that it’s too early to matter but he can’t be sure and… he just doesn’t. Can’t, won’t risk it.)

He thinks about trashing all of the pamplets and information the doctor handed him. Information about pregnancies in people his age, dietary suggestions, more paper than he knows what to do with and he had stuffed it inside of his jacket when he left the doctor’s office. Chuck is avoiding him currently, kicking about the Shatterdome investigating, or maybe he’s talking with the J-techs on sprucing up Striker. He could be out drinking, or working out. He could have finally managed to get one, or all three, of the Wei triplets to spar with him in the kwoon. (Which is honestly a fight Herc wouldn’t miss.) When Herc gets back to the quarters he and Chuck share he notes that Max is missing which doesn’t help him draw any conclusions as to his son’s whereabouts. Max follows the boy, and Chuck takes the dog, everywhere.

The room feels too small and Herc can’t breathe but he doesn’t want to deal with the press of people out there.

He never thought…

(He and Angela had talked about it before Chuck. They’d flipped for who would get to bear the first kid and then, after friendly bickering, they’d just decided to leave it up to chance. Angela conceived and they were thrilled, absolutely thrilled, and Herc had watched his wife swell with wonder. It took a while after Chuck was born before they got back into nighttime activities that didn’t feature one of them walking upstairs to feed the brat but when they did… well, Angela said Herc could go next. But they… never got around to it. They waited too long.)

He hadn’t had a heavy heat in years. Not that desperate, ‘breed me now’ heat that the media always portrayed omegas having. Before kaijus there had been no reason, Australia’s population hadn’t exactly been suffering, and afterwards…

Herc placed his head in his hands. How could he pilot Striker Eureka while pregnant?

Pregnant.

Pregnant with Stacker Pentecost’s child.

Pregnant.

He was too old for this! He’d already screwed up one kid, pretty badly if he was going to be honest with himself, and now here he was being blessed with another, the chance for another, the chance…

He’d be 60 by the time the kid was 15.

“Stop freaking out, old man.” He ordered his boots sternly. “You can handle this.”

Step one, tell Stacker.

Scratch that.

“Okay, okay,” And now he was talking to himself, Herc flopped back on his bunk and stared up at the unhelpful and uninteresting ceiling. He’d seen a lot of ceilings in his day. No, that sounded wrong. “Who can I tell?”

Because if he was reduced to talking to himself he obviously needed to speak with someone else about it. He needed to talk about it anyway. If it had happened when he thinks it may have… he was almost two months along. He would have started noticing soon… although his drive suit had felt a little tight and he had been hungry and queasy in turns lately. He had put it down to stress, age, and all of the bread he had been eating lately. It was good bread… and he was under a lot of stress, Stacker’s plan was… well, it was the only plan they had and as far as last ditch efforts went it wasn’t… awful.

He wouldn’t be able to go through with it. No, he had to, but if he told Stacker... could he risk being in a jaegar? In the next fight (in less than 4 days now if Gottleib was right) he could die. Chuck could die. More importantly if Herc stepped back there was no one else left to pilot Striker with Chuck. His son, Herc loved him dearly, had combined the worst parts of Herc and Angela. He was too alpha for his own good and he had his father’s absolutely wretched inability to deal with people on top of it. It was why, despite his high scores, there’d been no guarantee Chuck would be able to drift with, well, anyone. But Herc had needed a co-pilot and Chuck had too and they had managed to drift, and drift just fine.

Herc had heard what some of the scientists had said, that maybe it was their familial bond or maybe the way their dynamics interacted. Alphas and omegas were the best kind of pairings, matching one another seamlessly. But the downside was that alphas were extremely protective of omegas, especially pregnant omegas. Herc knew he wasn’t showing, not yet, and he didn’t think he’d be projecting hormones (alphas had extremely sensitive noses, they could smell a rival alpha, a beta women on her cycle, an omega ready to mate and, unfortunately for Herc, pregnancy) quite yet but… Although, thinking about it, he might be. Chuck had been… hovering lately (if spending more than ten seconds in Herc’s presence when they weren’t in a jaegar could be termed hovering). Herc had put that down to stress as well but maybe there was more to it, at least subconsciously.

Herc covered his face with his hands and tried to think. He couldn’t talk to Stacker, couldn’t talk to Chuck… he could speak to the doctor again, he supposed, but she hadn’t seemed to understand why he wasn’t elated. If he talked to her about going into a jaegar… she’d probably tell Stacker. He couldn’t risk that. Who did he know around the Shatterdome?

Stacker. Chuck. Tendo, he’d worked with the man once or twice… Tendo was a quintessential beta male though, no understanding of dynamics and certainly he wouldn’t understand Herc’s unique position. The kaiju scientist (Newt?) would probably find it interesting on a scientific level. Herc could just hear him now… No, not him, and not Gottlieb, who was a beta like Tendo.

His thoughts circled back to Chuck again. How would he react? Would he be happy? Herc had a few fond memories of Chuck playing with the younger children of his friends… that was a long time ago.

The Wei triplets? Alphas, all of them. And while Herc had worked with them before he literally did not speak their language. He also didn’t play basketball.

Sweet kids though.

Mako Mori?

She’d tell Stacker. Plus, alpha.

Raleigh Becket was, if Herc remembered right, an omega. He’d been training to drive jaegers before the mark III’s safeties were fully realized, he had known there was a threat of being barren. He was young though and more than likely hadn’t thought about his future. Probably hadn’t even met an alpha that made his body perk up and say ‘mate me, fuck me, screw me against the wall, fill me up till I drip’. Not that Herc had really ever had that moment. He’d had… well, he’d looked at alphas and perked up and panted but…

And now he was depressed and horny.

Raleigh at least would feel no need to speak to Stacker. He had a history of insubordination, was new to the Shatterdome and if Herc remembered right was a good kid. He’d probably be willing to listen, at least a little bit, and it wasn’t like Herc was looking for advice. Just a friendly ear who wasn’t going to ruin things by telling people before Herc himself was ready to tell people.

He’d try to find time after the candidate trials in the morning. For now he hoped the meatloaf would settle and he could get a decent night’s sleep. Maybe by tomorrow morning he would have more of a plan.

--

Herc doesn’t get the chance to speak with Raleigh. He wakes up later than he wants and then wastes more time by attempting to eat only to lose everything he’d just eaten shortly afterwards. He isn’t sure if it’s morning sickness or just plain stress. After that, since he doesn’t actually need to be anywhere not quite yet, he spends half an hour lying on his bunk staring at the ceiling and hoping that the nausea subsides. When he can finally get himself moving, still queasy but manageably so, he makes his way to the Kwoon. He’s pretty sure, though, that he’s missed the fight.

He meets up with Stacker in the elevator.

“Going up?” Stacker asks, and to anyone else the marshal would probably seem impersonal but Herc can tell that he’s amused. Herc smiles, because he’s stupidly in love and he is, actually, going up while the marshal is most likely going down.

“How were try outs?” He settles himself against the back of the elevator. Stacker waits until the elevator gets moving again and then shifts back to rest next to him. He isn’t as loose limbed as Herc is, not quite at ease but he isn’t standing at parade rest in the middle of the elevator anymore. Herc is pretty sure the only time he’s ever seen Stacker fully relaxed is when the man is asleep, and even then there is a tightness around his eyes and mouth. Jaeger pilots don’t sleep very well either, ghost drifting, PTSD, and of course the fact that they needed to be able to wake up at any moment to go fight kaiju.

Herc can’t blame him, it would be hypocritical and he tries not to be a hypocrite. He hasn’t relaxed since 2013.

“They were trying.” It’s a joke, which is rare for Stacker, so Herc puts effort into returning the man’s attempt with a smile. Stacker’s lips twitch upward briefly before they settle back into their native form, a frown. “Where have you been this morning?”

There are a lot of things Herc can say here. ‘Resting up’, ‘preparing’, ‘last night’s meatloaf didn’t agree with me’. Excuses, half lies, full on lies… He’s got options. Instead what he blurts out is “I’m pregnant.”

For a minute, Herc isn’t sure he’s even spoken. He certainly hadn’t meant to announce that. The elevator reaches the level of Stacker’s office and halts. The doors open. Stacker doesn’t move and he doesn’t speak. Herc, grasping for straws, starts to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. His mouth opens and closes, like a fish, and slowly Pentecost turns.

“Ranger?”

When lost, Stacker always turns to titles. They’ve had one big fight (and a handful of small ones, even relationships best classified as ‘friends with benefits’ have their rough patches) and it had devolved into a great deal of shouted ‘RANGER’ and ‘SERGEANT’ from Pentecost and filthy pejoratives from Herc.

Herc took a deep breath, there was no taking it back now he might as well come out and say it. “I’m pregnant.” At least it took some of the weight off of his shoulders, some of the guessing. Now he wouldn’t need to worry about talking to someone and having it get back to Stacker. Stacker already knew.

Herc doesn’t need to add ‘it’s yours’. That’s another thing Stacker already knows.

They can’t spend all of their time in the elevator, Herc staring at Stacker’s back, Stacker staring off into air. The door is going to close eventually or someone else might need the elevator. Herc’s waiting for Stacker to say something, anything.

“Walk with me.” Is what Stacker says.

Herc falls into stride, just slightly behind Stacker, just like every other day of their lives, and their pace brings the two of them to Stacker’s office in seconds. The office is filled with water and a view of the ocean that could have once been considered tranquil but all Herc sees when he looks at open water is danger. He’s pretty sure that’s all Stacker sees when he looks out at open water as well, which is probably why his office is filled with it. Stacker has a big desk in the office, the kind of thing that would have been difficult to get if it wasn’t an open port, the kind of impressive desk that scared bootlickers and rookies. Herc, who has spent some time bent over desks like that, isn’t afraid. Stacker doesn’t sit down at it though and Herc decides not to sit in the rickety chairs across from it. Instead Stacker braces himself against the wood, back to Herc.

Herc fiddles with a wedding band that isn’t there anymore.

The silence stretches.

“Did Raleigh find his co-pilot?”

Stacker turns to face Herc, face conflicted. “I think… he did.” It’s odd for Stacker to hesitate, and Herc wonders if it’s because of Herc’s news or because of the pilot Raleigh has found. There’s only one person who would cause Stacker to pause like that, however.

Mako’s always wanted to be a pilot. She’d be a good pilot, if Stacker lets her.

More silence but this time it’s Stacker who breaks it and Stacker who changes the subject. “How long?”

Herc rests his hands on his stomach, which is a stupid move really, and shrugs. “Two months?” Maybe more, maybe less. He’s pretty sure he can pinpoint the week it happened, though, maybe even the night. With all of the Shatterdomes closing down and the jaeger programs being dismantled they had been spending an inordinate amount of time together. Even if Herc was unofficially Stacker’s second in command (unofficially because the PPDC was a mess of convoluted departments and at some point everyone had to report to Stacker and just about no one reported to Herc) over the years they had rarely had more than a few days straight to spend in each other’s company. Even back when Kaiju attacks had months in between them, the two of them were always on duty. They were scrambling for any pilots they could get their hands on, any material, any scientist or tech willing to come to Hong Kong.

Herc wonders if maybe that was it. Increased stress levels, spending time around an alpha he was already sexually engaged with… it could have triggered a heat. In fact, there were a few nights where they’d engaged in sex more than once which… wasn’t really something that had happened to either of them in years. Age, and all that.

“Herc.” It’s soft, so soft Herc has to strain to hear it. “Come here.”

So Herc does. They hold hands at first, fingers entwined, before Stacker holds their hands up to his lips and kisses them. The ends of his mustache tickle Herc’s fingers; just like Herc’s sure his stubble will burn when brushed against Stacker’s skin. He pulls Stacker close for a kiss, soft and tentative at first before the two of them throw caution to the wind. He pulls on Stacker’s stiff collar, Stacker’s hands grip his shoulders, then wrap around his back and trap their bodies together.

They’re wearing too many clothes.

And they really don’t have time for this.

Herc breaks the kiss.

“I have something I need to do.” Stacker murmurs against Herc’s lips. Herc might not be good at reading facial clues on other people but he’s always excelled at the secret language of Stacker. Stacker is looking fond, heart meltingly so. “We’ll talk later.”

--

“You need to watch your tone, Mister Hansen.” Stacker orders coldly, Herc has already grabbed Chuck and is halfway to the door. He tosses Chuck out of it and affords Stacker a glimpse of Mako and Raleigh, standing in the hallway at the ready, both of their faces blank.

“Right,” Herc orders gruffly, just as angry with Chuck and just as done with his petulance and temper tantrums as Stacker is. “Stay there. Gimme a moment.”

The door clangs shut behind Chuck and his accusations still ring in Stacker’s ears.

It’s been hours since he handed Mako her shoe, the red shoe he has kept all of these years until the chance to fulfill his promise came. He can still feel the weight in his hands, can still feel the phantom weight of Mako in his arms, if he’s honest. But he has tried to divorce himself from those feelings, tried to let her live her own life even though he wants to protect her. He’s always known Mako would make a fantastic jaeger pilot and she has made it no secret that she wants to be. That force, that drive, even her rage and trauma, it’s all a weapon against kaiju. Her ingenuity, the fact she knows Gipsy Danger inside and out… it makes her perfect to be Raleigh’s pilot. To temper his wild, headstrong behavior. For all of his problems, there is no doubting that Raleigh is an excellent pilot and while Mako is not Yancy she’ll be able to handle Raleigh. In truth, Yancy did very little to stop his brother’s heedless rush into danger.

They’ll be a great team.

But he doesn’t want Mako and Raleigh to be a team. He’s never wanted to expose his daughter to the dangers of battling a kaiju face to face and he especially doesn’t want her taking part in this one last mission. It’s their last chance to save the world and if they fail… well, if they fail they’re all dead. But succeeding might require sacrifices.

Sacrifices.

He knows he has been holding Mako back. He’s still holding her back.

“She’s not ready.” He says to the only other person in the room, and maybe a little bit to himself as well.

Mako had been ten when they first met but still, so small, so light. When he had picked her up her fingers had scrabbled at the smooth plating of his drive suit. Chuck’s shouts are still ringing in his ears, about nepotism about failures, and that makes his blood boil but the icy terror of entering the LOCCENT and seeing the bright blue of the plasma weapon ready to discharge (and Herc, silhouetted against all that blue)… He can’t lose them both. He knows that Raleigh and Mako’s joint trauma will feed off each other and Mako is too inexperienced to rein it in, Raleigh is too volatile and their connection… too deep.

While many alphas struggle with identifying an omega who has fixated on a mate Stacker has never been that alpha. And while his senses are not as good as they used to be even he can smell the breeding pheromones Raleigh produces in Mako’s presence.

(It’s not another reason to dislike Raleigh, it shouldn’t be, but it is.)

“She’s ready.” Herc says and his tone is anything but calm. “We need everyone we can get out there and she is one of the best we-”

There is noise from outside. Too much noise. Chuck’s shouting had been loud enough to penetrate the walls but this is the sounds of a fight, the clanging of a body against reinforced steel. A scream.

He and Herc break eye contact as the older Hansen bolts for the door.

“Hey, hey, enough!” It isn’t a surprise to come outside and find Chuck and Raleigh brawling. “On your feet, both of ya!” It’s the voice of a drill sergeant and both boys break apart, glaring at each other. Stacker is pretty sure that Chuck’s nose has been broken. It’s not surprising, Chuck has made no secret how he feels about Raleigh’s presence, but it is also completely unacceptable. Chuck’s anger might be edged with fear but he needs to keep himself in better control.

Herc can handle Chuck, however, Stacker has bigger issues to deal with.

“Becket, Mori, in my office.”

Mako is first in, Raleigh follows in her footsteps, circling Stacker to do so. Herc intercepts Chuck before he can start anything else, before Stacker needs to take action against him too. In any other organization at any other time… but they need Striker Eureka.

“You’re a Ranger for Christ’s sake! Start acting like one.”

The look Chuck gives Herc is hurt, obviously so, and then he turns and storms off. Stacker is no relationship guru, is clearly having a difficult time with the two big ones in his life, but even he knows it was the wrong thing to say.

Children gone, Herc turns to give Stacker a look.

For once, Stacker is at a loss. He has known Hercules Hansen for a good portion of their adult lives. They have fought monsters together, they have fought one another, and they both feel, Stacker believes, very deeply for one another. They have bonded over the difficulties of a child in the PPDC, bonded over lost comrades, bonded over memories of a life that no longer exists. But now he cannot read what Herc is trying to say.

Without a word passed between them he turns and heads into his office.

Raleigh and Mako are seated and Stacker is sure that if the two of them had more time to bond they would have been holding hands or some other form of support. Stacker turns away from them at first, faces the water, faces the danger. He takes a breath-

“I went out of phase first. It was my mistake.”

Raleigh bursts like a dam. Stacker lets his breath out. Admittedly, it’s one of a handful of times he has ever seen Beckett admit to making a mistake. That Raleigh is throwing himself under the metaphorical bus doesn’t help matters. The rock star died and was reborn a martyr, will wonders never cease?

“No, it was my mistake.” Stacker turns. Mako appears perfectly calm next to Beckett but there is a hint in her eyes, she expects him to ground her. She knows why he would and she understands, and she would never fight it. She respects him too much. It’s a heavy burden to bear, respect. “I should never have let you two in the same machine.”

Too similar, too connected, the perfect pilots if only they had the time…

“So what, are you grounding us?” Raleigh is fire to Mako’s earth, burning while she stands firm. Mako is exactly what they need for Raleigh’s co-pilot.

There is no time to find another.

And he knows, looking at her, that refusing her this one last chance for vengeance, grounding her, would be the worst thing he could do. He needs them and she neds this.

“No.” And maybe this is what Herc was trying to tell him, that he would have to risk everything if they were to pull this off. He was already risking the man he loves, has recently come to realize he is risking his unborn child, but now he knows what else will be tossed into the mix. Mako. His daughter.

Does the reward outweigh the potential cost?

It is their world in the balance. What is one girl, even one he cares so deeply about, to that? What are the lives of two people, and one potentiality, when measured against the lives of one city, much less one world? His happiness does not even play into it, he might never be happy without them but he could never, would never, be able to forgive himself if his choices lost them their one chance.

Granted, if he held them back he might only live a few hours to regret it.

“No.” He repeats himself and sees Mako takes a deep, shuddering breath. “But there are to be no repeats of today, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!” Mako’s quiet affirmation is overpowered by Raleigh’s but her smile is brighter than the sun.

--

In another world only three jaegars are sent out to meet with Otachi and Leatherback. In another world, Crimson Typhoon and Cherno Alpha are destroyed, Striker Eureka disabled.

“Crimson Typhoon, Cherno Alpha, Gipsy Danger, I want you to front line the Harbor. Stay on the miracle mile.”

It makes all the difference.

Crimson Typhoon returns with a shattered arm, Cherno Alpha with acid damage. When Leatherback shuts down Striker Eureka, Gipsy Danger is still able to move in immediately (it does not stop Hercules Hansen from disengaging too early and breaking his arm). Between Crimson Typhoon and Gipsy Danger Otachi is sliced to pieces… although not before an attempt to lift them off the ground.

Mako and Raleigh enter the Shatterdome to cheers. Sasha plants a kiss on Mako’s mouth, the Wei triplets pound on Raleigh’s back. Hercules Hansen steps forward and shakes their hands.

Stacker Pentecost enters the room and everything stills.

--

In all honesty, Herc is amazed that Chuck holds it together until they get back to their bunk. He’s amazed Chuck held it together while Herc had his arm set and placed in a sling, all with Chuck hovering over him like fruit flies on a case of bananas. He’s grateful that Chuck didn’t decide to burst in the middle of him thanking Raleigh, although from the looks Chuck was giving Raleigh and Mako Herc is pretty sure the boy was too distracted to do it then, other emotions eclipsing the anger and surprise and fierce protectiveness that had been brought out by his discovery of Herc’s secret.

Keeping secrets from your co-pilot can be a bitch, Herc knows that from both standpoints.

“You should have told me!” Chuck slams his fist against the side of the door, loud enough that Herc winces. Immediately, Chuck tones it down, which is just… wrong. His son has always amped it up, especially when it’s clear he’s irritating Herc. Having him tone it down, and so quickly, was just… jarring. “You, I mean, I’m your son.”

Then he glares at Herc’s abdomen like he thinks the kid is already replacing him.

Which is also wrong.

“For Christ’s sake, kid, I just found it.” Herc scrubs first at his face and then at his hair. He wishes he had two hands to do it with. “When we first got here. I only just told the Marshal this morning. We’ve barely spoken three civil words to each other outside of a conn-pod in two years!”

Which might be an exaggeration.

It also might not be.

Chuck screws up his face. When he was a kid Herc would refer to it as his ‘lemon face’. Angela would laugh and scrub at Chuck’s cheeks and tease him. ‘Pucker up honey’, she’d say sweet as can be before giving an upset Chuck a kiss. When Chuck was a toddler that was all it took to set him off in peels of giggles. Now Herc can’t imagine that kind of action, from anyone, being enough to throw Chuck out a funk. The silence stretches on and Herc realizes that he’s supposed to say something to throw Chuck out of his funk. An apology? Screw that, he’s done nothing he needs to apologize for.

“I didn’t even know you and he were…” Chuck’s lemon face compounds.

It makes Herc laugh. “Keep that up and you’ll wind up with more wrinkles than Max.” It’s a nice release of the tension in his shoulders and surprisingly, Chuck relaxes slightly too. “I never made it a secret.” You can’t pick and choose what you share in the drift but hiding things often made them stand out more. ‘Don’t think about elephants’ and all that. Somehow, Chuck has never seen, just like Herc has never shared his intimate memories of Angela with his son. “Would you have wanted to know?”

It’s a good question. The fact Chuck doesn’t want to know is probably part of why he doesn’t.

“Hell no!” Chuck’s answer is instant and loud, it makes Herc laugh again. “Ugh. No. But I didn’t want to not know either.”

His kid really had a way of making the point clear.

Herc took a seat and scrubbed at his hair again. “Look. The Marshal and I have been...” special friends? Sex buddies? An item? Together? None of that sounded right. Boyfriends definitely sounded wrong, lovers sounded too intimate. “We’ve been… for a long time now. It’s not a big thing.” It was. It was a huge bursting thing in his chest sometimes.

It’s amazing that Chuck never picked up on it before now, not just the drift but the fact sometimes Herc would come back to the room smelling exactly like Stacker Pentecost, but he supposes that blindness can be self-enforced. “This thing…” he places his hand on his stomach, his other hand twitches reflexively and his arm twinges with pain, “this… possibility,” too early to call it a kid or a baby, he’s still… he can’t believe he’s conceived, he’s worried he’ll lose it, there’s too much to worry about and definitely not enough time to deal with it all… not yet at least and with a busted arm he won’t have to worry about going down to attack the Breach. But maybe after that, then he can worry. “It’s terrifying.”

Chuck places a comforting hand on his shoulder, it startles Herc. They haven’t touched in a manner that wasn’t combative for years. It’s partly his fault; he’s just as guilty for shrugging of Chuck’s helping hand as Chuck is for smacking his away. Soft touches they communicate through Max, generally, pampering the dog and sending him back and forth like a messenger.

Speak of the devil, the dog appears from his dog bed and flops on top of Herc’s feet, waiting for the affection that he knows is his due.

“We’ll get through this together, Dad.” Chuck says, and it’s almost enough to make Herc cry.

--

After that everything happens too fast. Herc is left in the LOCCENT fingers crossed inside of his sling as he watches his fellow pilots battle three of the biggest kaiju ever. He has no idea what’s going on, not properly, all he can do is watch the dots move around and listen in on their conversations as best he can.

It’s his son and his lover down there, battling for their lives. It’s his friends and children he has watched grow up.

He hears Stacker’s shout of denial when Gipsy Danger, badly damaged, grabs Raiju’s corpse and takes her through the breach. But the payload is jammed and Cherno Alpha is pinning down Scunner while Crimson Typhoon and Stacker hack at Slattern.

But they all know they only had one chance at this. With the payload jammed, Gipsy Danger knew what had to be done.

Stacker and Chuck both scream now, rage behind their movements as they pummel Slattern into mush.

“Direct hit. The breach is collapsed!”

--

Three things happen that are over shadowed by the collapse of the breach. Hercules Hansen kisses Stacker in full view of everyone from the Hong Kong Shatterdome, Stacker Pentecost kisses him back and the Kaidonovsky’s officially win the biggest kitty in the history of the Hong Kong Shatterdome’s betting pool.

Granted, before recently the betting pool was locally based.

Stacker has calls to make, people whose opinion he doesn’t care about to ignore, people whose opinions he doesn’t care about but could make his life very difficult to mollify. There’s the press to talk to as well. Normally, if Stacker didn’t want to, Herc would do it instead. But the two of them are going to spend one night being very, very busy.

It’s a good night.

--

Chuck would never admit to freaking out. If you asked him, and no one would ever ask him because he would have punched them before they got the chance, he would fervently deny it… and then punch you in the face. He didn’t freak out. And he wasn’t freaking out. He was level headed. He was cool.

He was…

“What is taking so goddamn long?!” He burst out.

Mako and Raleigh were slouched together, shoulders touching, in two uncomfortable hospital chairs. Chuck couldn’t stand them, he had no idea how those two managed to look so relaxed. He was also bristling over how happy they were. Screw happiness.

No, fuck, now he was imagining them screwing.

“It takes as long as it takes.” Raleigh stated, which was easy for him to say it wasn’t his dad in there giving birth.

“The average time for labor,” And there goes Mako, listing off all the facts she’d been researching. A few months ago Chuck had found her reading a ‘what to expect’ book, like she needed to worry about his old man’s pregnancy. Sure if it had been Stacker, ew, double ew, her reading up would make sense but c’mon it was Herc. Who had been extra bitchy in the last month, and alright he was old and his aches and pains had aches and pains but every time he sat down and had pain getting up and started to cry he got so bitchy because Chuck or Stacker tried to offer any sort of help.

But Mako, oh no, he accepted her help right away.

Asshole.

He tunes Mako and Raleigh out, the two are talking about something else now, and glares at the wall like he can see through it. It’s not even right outside of his dad’s rooms, like it is in the movies or television, instead he’s practically on the other side of the hospital from the maternity ward.

Alright, so the waiting room was just down the hall from the maternity ward and they wouldn’t let you loiter in the maternity ward because of danger or disease or something. And so he had been acting a bit like an overanxious alpha and his anxiety had been throwing Stacker off and they might have been about to brawl in the middle of the room until Herc had ordered Chuck go sit on his ass. The doctors had been about to toss him out as well, a contributing factor to Chuck leaving.

He couldn’t even bring the damn dog. You’d think being part of the team that saved the world would mean he could bring his damn dog.

--

“Swear to CHRIST, Stacker if you tell me to BREATHE ONE MORE TIME I WILL END YOU.”

“Ranger! You’ve been through worse than this!”

“Aaagh, fuck you sir!.”

--

Stacker held Luna Hansen-Pentecost in his arms and felt his heart melt. Herc held Luna and felt his brain turn to mush, overwhelmed by emotion.

Mako held Luna in her arms and worried about her tiny little neck and her fragile head. Raleigh held her in his arms and cooed.

Chuck pretended to gag whenever he saw this but since he was always first to volunteer for babysitting everyone knew he loved her more than he would ever say.