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You know, Raleigh is the kind of guy that's fairly forgiving. He can admit when he's wrong, when he's fucked up, and when he needs to forgive and just forget.

This? Not gonna forgive, not gonna forget.

He'd looked the other way when they stole kisses and held hands. He'd lied for them, blocked them from view, helped cover for them when they went on their little trips to Hong Kong and Australia and wherever the fuck else they went.

Now, he feels betrayed. It's irrational and ridiculous, but when Raleigh finds out that Herc knocked Mako up and then asked her to marry him?

He's pissed.

And honestly, he only knows because Mako told him -- mercifully, it's not a rumor that's circulating but it's still something that makes his blood boil. It seems some kind of disservice to her, like Herc didn't fucking respect her enough to ask her to marry him months ago, and now this happened.

Fucking dick.

So when Raleigh sees him in the hallway, he marches straight towards him, murder in his eyes.

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The crowd that's gathered to watch this part for Raleigh as he swaggers away, and while Herc stays tall and emotionless as Stacker once did, there's a part of him that sags wearily as he watches Raleigh disappear down the corridor.

Fuck, he's tired. His life is spiraling away from him and he just... He wants to make this right so badly, but apparently all he does is continue to fuck things up.

No real surprise, there.

Ignoring the people staring at him, Herc turns and heads off to his office, where he can slump behind his desk all he likes, hide away behind closed doors and methodically drink his way through the bottle of vodka Aleksis had passed off to him one night after he and Chuck had a particularly vicious fight in the hangar bay.

He misses those crazy Russians.

Edited 2013-08-12 00:48 (UTC)

Raleigh goes to blow off steam in the gym and eventually runs into Mako. It's not the most pleasant thing because he's oozing anger and rage and it's all towards her future husband. When prompted he snaps at her without meaning to, then quickly apologizes all while looking like a wounded animal.

He doesn't tell her about the altercation though, but Mako can tell something went down. It makes her angry that Raleigh isn't talking, so she leaves him to talk to Herc.

About an hour after he settles in, there's thunderous knocking at Herc's door.

Herc wants to say he's surprised when he hears the furious knocking at his door, but he'd be lying. He's been expecting it.

"It's open" he calls out, not moving from behind his desk, his hand still clutched around a PPDC mug he nicked from Tendo well over a year ago. But, unlike when it used to live up in the LOCCENT with their favorite neural bridge operator, this time it's not full of coffee. It's just vodka.

Hey, at least he's using a glass, right? He could be drinking straight from the bottle.

It's Mako coming in with her hands on her eyes, eyes dark and almost accusing as she looks between that mug and the bottle.

"What happened?"

She knows that he knows what she's talking about. There's no sense in dancing around it - Mako doesn't have time for that.

"I had a fight with Raleigh," he explains, staring morosely at his mug.

She's still on the wrong side of his face to see the bruise steadily darkening along his jaw; he hasn't been icing it, hasn't done anything to it, just let it bloom brightly beneath the skin because what's the fucking point, right?

"I just keep fucking everything up and he's upset about it."

Perhaps he shouldn't have been drinking steadily for the past hour. He's getting melancholy.

Mako's face is impassive, and she comes in fully and shuts the door behind her, fingers flipping the lock so they won't be interrupted. The diamonds on her hand flash in the dim light, though they're covered up when she stuffs her hands into her pockets.

She comes forward to stand in front of his desk, eyes fixed on him, as she takes in the morose attitude and negativity, and she tilts her head at him in a sort of go on, continue kind of way.

He might as well get it all out now before she says anything.

He shrugs and leans back in his chair, though he doesn't quite look at her face.

What's there to say?

"I dishonor you," he parrots, his voice wooden. "I do you a disservice. I disgrace you. I made you believe I was ashamed of you."

It's not that Hercules Hansen, forty-something Marshal of the Hong Kong Shatterdome needs Raleigh Becket's approval for anything that he does. It's that he already feels like shit for how this has turned out, already feels guilty that he hurt her, already feels ashamed that things have spiraled out of his control and now he's left scrambling to pick up the pieces and he looks like an asshole and a fool.

It's that Raleigh is Mako's copilot, her other half, the one person who has unfettered access to her mind, her thoughts, her heart.

And Raleigh hates him. Herc is sure that if people hadn't been watching them, Raleigh certainly wouldn't have stopped at once punch. He would have probably spat on him for good measure, just to really bring it home how disgusted he is by what Hercules has done.

It's also that he's drunk now, and when he gets drunk on hard liquor all alone, he tends to get really morose and defeated and starts wanting to just give up on everything.

It's impossible to tell from Mako's face alone, but Raleigh is in seriously deep shit -- but that's another conversation for another time. She will deal with him later.

For now, she unpockets her hands and comes directly around the desk to sit in his lap and effectively straddle him, blocking him from the little vodka he has left and forcing him to put his attention on her.

"He is young," is all she says, hand lifting to frame his face. "I do not think he understands."

"He's right," he croaks, looking so despondent that it would almost be funny if he wasn't so deadly serious.

But hey, at least he's not crying!

"I made a right fucking mess of this," he continues, leaning forward to thump his heat against her sternum, hissing when he aggravates his bruise. He doesn't move his head, though, like he's using the pain for self-flagellation. "I fuck up everything."

His life has been, objectively, kind of awful. And the universal constant between all those awful things that have happened to him? Is him.

"I'm sorry."

Her hands slide down to find his, lifting them so that she can spread his palms flat against her stomach. It's still mostly flat, but there's the faintest bump there that only someone touching her could feel.

"Do you?" Her question is honest, her voice quiet. "Is this a mistake? Am I?"

The way his hands flatten against her belly like he's desperate to touch should be answer enough, his fingers rucking up her shirt so he can press his palm against warm skin.

"You're my reason for living," he replies, equally quiet.

For some people it's a sweet but hyperbolic statement meant to convey deep affection. For Herc, it's probably painfully true. He lost absolutely everything after the breach was sealed. Mako gave him a reason to wake up again in the morning, first with Miracle, then with the promise of her company, then with the fact that she loved him.

He doesn't know where he'd be without her. If he'd be at all.

"If we-" yes, we, Mako counts herself as two now, "are not a mistake, then Raleigh is wrong."

His hands are warm on his skin and she leans forward a little, tipping his head up so that she can rest her forehead against his.

"And so are you." He isn't a fuck up. He hasn't made a mess.

This isn't wrong. It's completely, entirely, and wholly right.

"I love you," he blurts out, like if he's not fast enough getting the words out, she'll shush him and he won't get to say them.

"I'm sorry if I made you doubt that."

His hands slide around her to pull her closer; Hercules gets needy and tactile when he's drunk, his emotions too close to the surface for him to know how to handle them properly.

"I'm so sorry."

"I love you," she confirms, eyes closing as her hands slide through his hair again and again as she tries to comfort and show him she cares.

She's almost flush against him now, legs planted firmly on either side of him as she leans in closer. Her face tips so that she can gently, carefully for her mouth to his, tongue licking the taste of vodka from his lips.

"I love you so much."

He doesn't try very hard to kiss her back, too uncoordinated to be able to handle this with any kind of finesse, just clings to her and breathes against her lips.

And then a choked sob pushes its way up from his throat and he has to pull away to close his eyes and hide his face against her shoulder.

"I'm so scared," he manages, his voice muffled by her shirt. "I didn't do well the first time around." He's referring to his marriage; he and Angela had been happy, basically, but he'd been career military and hadn't been home a lot and she had resented him for it, resented him for not being around to help raise their son. Sometimes they'd have fights and she'd scream that she was basically a single parent anyway, and he'd feel so gutted he'd hide away on base and just confirm her accusations.

"I'm not a good father," he continues, his voice getting more and more choked up and oh, yep, there are those tears he had managed to keep at bay. "What if I screw up again? I can't mess up another kid."

Her arms wrap tightly around him, gathering him in her arms until she's clutching him against her, his face pressed against her shoulder. She's his rock, his life raft, his support structure right now -- and she holds up up and wraps him into a warm embrace that is tight and unrelenting.

She cannot ever replace what he had before with his wife, and with Chuck -- Mako knows that. She knows that there is no comparison to something like that, and she isn't looking to 'make him forget' about his firstborn son, or his late wife. It never was. This isn't a 'you're trying again' or 'you're starting over'. It's not about 'new beginnings' or anything like that.

It's about taking what you have and holding it tightly to you and pressing it against your heart and believing in it, mending the broken parts that you can mend and moving on with the rest.

"I cannot promise you it will be perfect." Her voice is soft when she finally speaks. "And it will not be easy. It is going to be hard, and it is going to be long. Your sorrow will always be there, I know this." Her cheek presses against his head and she kisses his hair before continuing.

"But I will make you a promise right now. I will be here for you when it becomes too much to bear. When you think that all is lost, remember that I am here. I will never give up on you, and I will never give up on us. You have my word, on my honor."

Herc just clings to her for a long moment, hiding his face against her and fisting his hands in the back of her shirt, needing her to be close and real and unrelenting against him because he feels like he's going to get washed away and he needs an anchor to hold on to.

There's a part of him that feels like he shouldn't be dumping all this on her shoulders — she's so young, she doesn't need his baggage — but there's another part that's so selfishly glad she's here because he doesn't think he can handle all this on his own and she's young enough, resilient enough, strong enough to be able to shoulder his burdens with him until he's able to stand on his own two feet again.

He cries into her shoulder for a little while, though it's mostly just him sobbing open-mouthed against her shoulder, his eyes mostly dry, and eventually he sags, his limbs feeling heavy and useless.

"I'm really drunk," he mumbles finally, staring at her collar. "You might need to tell me that again tomorrow because I don't know if I'll remember this in the morning."

Mako lets him sob for as long as he needs, hands smoothing over his back as she waits for him to finally sag against her. She will forever be the rock he needs -- no matter what they encounter.

"I will tell you as often as you need me to," she murmurs, lips pressing against his temple again. "For now, we should get you to bed. Okay? Can you walk?"

Because she doesn't think she can call Raleigh for help right now without beating him into a bloody pile of meat and bones.

"Yeah, I can walk."

Probably. He's pretty sure.

He waits for her to slide off his lap before slowly pushing himself to his feet, swaying alarmingly for a moment before getting his sea legs and nodding.

"Okay."

Mako is immediately reaching for him when he sways, shaking her head a little as she suppresses a smile.

"Put your arm around me. Let me help you."

He's more than happy to curl his arm around her, leaning on her more than he should. He can't help it. She's right there, she fits so nicely under his arm, she's so sweet, and so nice, and so pretty, and he loves her so much.

Keep it together, Hansen.

"I'm sorry if I upchuck on you," he mumbles, wiping a hand over his face, hissing as he manages to smack himself in his bruise. Again.

"I shouldn't, but I haven't been drunk like this in years so. Who knows."

Mako takes the weight like a champ -- she might be knocked up, but she's still solid and can still support the weight of Hercules.

"I can shower," Mako tells him, sliding her arm around his waist. "Do not worry."

She does look over at him though, brow raised.

"Did the fight with Raleigh get physical?"

Because she is really going to kill him.

"I didn't hit him back," he rushes to reassure her, his face painfully earnest as he looks down at her. His bruise is still mostly red and not really bruised, but it's coloring rapidly and by tomorrow it'll be gloriously black and blue. Even his stubble-cum-beard combo won't be enough to hide that.

He might have to borrow makeup from someone; not Mako, though, she's not his shade.

Or he could just wear his bruises like a man.

Her lips press into a thin line -- she's pissed, but he might be drunk enough to not really notice just how angry.

"We will talk more in the morning."

He knows she's angry, he's just not sure if it's at him for getting drunk or at Raleigh for punching him or them both for fighting in the hallway.

So he nuzzles her hair, mumbling something about how pretty she is and how much he loves her.

Mercifully, the hallways is empty, nobody around to witness the Marshal in his moment of weakness.

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