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ugh a thing.
"Try thinking next time."
That's part of the problem, isn't it? Raleigh Becket doesn't always think about his actions before he does them or at least, he doesn't this time and it's the worst possible thing that he could have done.
I'm a fucking idiot.
He trudges away from Herc, head down, hands stuffed into his pockets. How his entire life had spiraled downhill so fast was almost unbelievable, save for the fact that everything wrong right now was because of him, because of his actions. The knowledge of that presses down on him and it's hard to put one foot in front of the other.
Finding Mako turns into a priority; he knows that she's around, somewhere, because he can feel her and sense her and it's driving him mad with every step that he takes in the wrong direction. He stops on more than one occasion, turns around, doubles back, then turns around again.
He knows where she is - he can almost fucking smell her, but just the idea of facing her right now is painful; seeing her anger, her quiet rage and knowing that she's disappointed in him isn't something he's sure he can face.
But he has to. He dug the grave, he made the bed.
He finds himself in front of her room and he's not sure how he got there, but there he is, standing there and staring at the rust colored paint that's splattered haphazardly on the metal in an attempt to give it color. He hates it, he thinks dully, he's always hated that color, rust - reminds him of dried blood - blood like Yancy's, or like his blood, splattered all over the white drive suit, droplets hitting snow and blooming out into fingerlike petals as his knees hit the ground --
His fist raps against her door twice before falling by his side, fingers still so tightly clenched his knuckles are white.
The door is pulled open almost immediately and she's there - standing there with her cheeks all pink and her eyes red rimmed from tears that she refuses to let anyone else see and it just fucking kills him inside and he's sure that she can feel his heart breaking somewhere inside of him.
"I'm sorry," he croaks, head hanging because he can't look at her, can't face her, can't stare into her eyes knowing that a part of her hates him in this moment because he's threatened the one thing that's made her so, so happy for the past year all because he's a stupid, jealous, overprotective idiot.
"I didn't -- I didn't mean--"
She cuts him off.
"Shh. Come inside."
Mako steps aside and lets him in because she can't just let him stand there like that, his head bowed and shoulders hunched and every bone in his body screaming defeat. She can't. She can't, and she wont.
She ushers him inside and he sits down hard on the edge of her bed like he always does, making himself at home with his fingers smoothing over the worn comforter and picking at the little fuzz balls that have accumulated throughout years of use. It's hers, it's hers and he wants it and wants to keep it on his person always or put it on his bed because she's touched it, it's hers and it's something she's used.
There's a little clock on her desk; a pretty thing with carved birds and gold filigree but it's so loud with the constant tick, tick, tick of seconds passing that Raleigh's sure that his head is going to explode if the silence isn't broken by something, someone, anyone, anything.
"Mako, please. Say something. Anything. Tell me you hate me, tell me to get out, say something."
She's silent.
This is a goddamn nightmare.
His head drops and his hands claw into his hair, fingers gripping messy strands of blond as he tries not to turn into a fucking five year old by crawling into her lap after he bursts into tears.
A hand comes down to rest on his shoulder and he stiffens, because he's not sure what it is that she's going to do, what she's going to say, but the hand creeps over and she's pulling him in against her, dragging him into a tight embrace because no matter what happens, now matter what he says, he's still her co-pilot and she loves him, because that's what co-pilots do.
They love each other. This bond between them is too strong to ever be broken by stupidity, and she conveys that through an embrace alone. They're all tangled up in emotion, damn near Drifting right now without even needing the neural handshake or drive suits or the conn pod because they're that goddamn suited for one another. They'd connected like this before, back during candidate trials, her mind accidentally slamming right into his like a semi truck smashing through a brick wall leaving them both heaving for breath and staring at one another, knowing yet confused.
He feels everything, sees everything, and the weight of him barrels into Mako. She sees his light and his dark, sees him for who he truly is. It's a deep journey to Drift with someone, and not something to be taken lightly and Mako knows now more than ever the consequences of finding that perfect co-pilot.
They sit there like that for a long time, just holding one another as Raleigh quietly cries. It's only when he feels that his hair is damp on top that he realizes that Mako's been crying too, and that only makes things worse because it's all his fault.
"I'm so sorry," he sobs, his hold around her body tightening. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me."
Hercules won't, but he needs Mako to. He doesn't care what the Marshal says or thinks or does from here on out - but Mako...
Mako he needs. If he can't have her love he needs her friendship at the very least, her presence in his life, her voice, her smile, her light.
"I forgive you," she whispers, breath ghosting over his hair and Raleigh nearly loses his composure again but pulls himself together at the last minute, though a traitorous tear slips out to run down his cheek.
Slowly, carefully, she pulls back and lets her hands rest on his shoulders so she can look at him and just take in his face and use the pad of her thumb to wipe the tear away.
"Okay?"
He nods, mute, unable to be even as responsive as a limpet. Okay. Okay, she forgives me.
Okay.
"Promise me," she starts and he's already nodding uncaring as to what it is that she's going to ask because it's Mako and he'll do anything for her, hold her pet her leave her alone-- "promise me that this will be the last altercation. Okay?"
He's still nodding, because yes, it will be. He knows how fucking dumb he was before, and he's so sorry.
"I promise, Mako."
She smiles at him then but she looks tired, a little worn and stressed out and he feels physically sick to his stomach because he caused it. He aches to reach for her and as if on cue, she leans heavily into him, a long, heavy sigh escaping her parted, perfect lips.
"I cannot take you doing this every time something new happens, Raleigh."
"I know."
He knows. He does.
"It won't happen again, Mako."
She breathes in deeply and nods, because she can feel that he means it, that it's true, that it's going to be okay. He relaxes in inches, tension falling off of him like a snake shedding its skin, finally feeling more at ease than he has in a while.
Her presence does that to him.
"I was going to put in for a transfer," he finally confesses, and Mako's head snaps up, nearly slamming into his jaw and he's so glad he saw that coming and moved. "But that would've been stupid, too."
Mako's staring at him with this mixed sense of horror and anger, and her hands find his shoulders and she gives him a good shake.
"Don't you even think about it, Raleigh Becket," she warns and he has to laugh because there is the fight, there's the spirit.
"Are you laughing at me?" She asks indignantly and he has to shake his head no, because that isn't the case at all.
"No, Mako. I'm laughing because I'm finally home."
He can't have what she's found elsewhere, not with her and maybe never with anyone because no one can compare to her, but he will support her, love her, and cherish her in the ways that he is able to, that is appropriate, and that is tolerable.
He'll never overstep his bounds - in any way - ever again.
That's part of the problem, isn't it? Raleigh Becket doesn't always think about his actions before he does them or at least, he doesn't this time and it's the worst possible thing that he could have done.
I'm a fucking idiot.
He trudges away from Herc, head down, hands stuffed into his pockets. How his entire life had spiraled downhill so fast was almost unbelievable, save for the fact that everything wrong right now was because of him, because of his actions. The knowledge of that presses down on him and it's hard to put one foot in front of the other.
Finding Mako turns into a priority; he knows that she's around, somewhere, because he can feel her and sense her and it's driving him mad with every step that he takes in the wrong direction. He stops on more than one occasion, turns around, doubles back, then turns around again.
He knows where she is - he can almost fucking smell her, but just the idea of facing her right now is painful; seeing her anger, her quiet rage and knowing that she's disappointed in him isn't something he's sure he can face.
But he has to. He dug the grave, he made the bed.
He finds himself in front of her room and he's not sure how he got there, but there he is, standing there and staring at the rust colored paint that's splattered haphazardly on the metal in an attempt to give it color. He hates it, he thinks dully, he's always hated that color, rust - reminds him of dried blood - blood like Yancy's, or like his blood, splattered all over the white drive suit, droplets hitting snow and blooming out into fingerlike petals as his knees hit the ground --
His fist raps against her door twice before falling by his side, fingers still so tightly clenched his knuckles are white.
The door is pulled open almost immediately and she's there - standing there with her cheeks all pink and her eyes red rimmed from tears that she refuses to let anyone else see and it just fucking kills him inside and he's sure that she can feel his heart breaking somewhere inside of him.
"I'm sorry," he croaks, head hanging because he can't look at her, can't face her, can't stare into her eyes knowing that a part of her hates him in this moment because he's threatened the one thing that's made her so, so happy for the past year all because he's a stupid, jealous, overprotective idiot.
"I didn't -- I didn't mean--"
She cuts him off.
"Shh. Come inside."
Mako steps aside and lets him in because she can't just let him stand there like that, his head bowed and shoulders hunched and every bone in his body screaming defeat. She can't. She can't, and she wont.
She ushers him inside and he sits down hard on the edge of her bed like he always does, making himself at home with his fingers smoothing over the worn comforter and picking at the little fuzz balls that have accumulated throughout years of use. It's hers, it's hers and he wants it and wants to keep it on his person always or put it on his bed because she's touched it, it's hers and it's something she's used.
There's a little clock on her desk; a pretty thing with carved birds and gold filigree but it's so loud with the constant tick, tick, tick of seconds passing that Raleigh's sure that his head is going to explode if the silence isn't broken by something, someone, anyone, anything.
"Mako, please. Say something. Anything. Tell me you hate me, tell me to get out, say something."
She's silent.
This is a goddamn nightmare.
His head drops and his hands claw into his hair, fingers gripping messy strands of blond as he tries not to turn into a fucking five year old by crawling into her lap after he bursts into tears.
A hand comes down to rest on his shoulder and he stiffens, because he's not sure what it is that she's going to do, what she's going to say, but the hand creeps over and she's pulling him in against her, dragging him into a tight embrace because no matter what happens, now matter what he says, he's still her co-pilot and she loves him, because that's what co-pilots do.
They love each other. This bond between them is too strong to ever be broken by stupidity, and she conveys that through an embrace alone. They're all tangled up in emotion, damn near Drifting right now without even needing the neural handshake or drive suits or the conn pod because they're that goddamn suited for one another. They'd connected like this before, back during candidate trials, her mind accidentally slamming right into his like a semi truck smashing through a brick wall leaving them both heaving for breath and staring at one another, knowing yet confused.
He feels everything, sees everything, and the weight of him barrels into Mako. She sees his light and his dark, sees him for who he truly is. It's a deep journey to Drift with someone, and not something to be taken lightly and Mako knows now more than ever the consequences of finding that perfect co-pilot.
They sit there like that for a long time, just holding one another as Raleigh quietly cries. It's only when he feels that his hair is damp on top that he realizes that Mako's been crying too, and that only makes things worse because it's all his fault.
"I'm so sorry," he sobs, his hold around her body tightening. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me."
Hercules won't, but he needs Mako to. He doesn't care what the Marshal says or thinks or does from here on out - but Mako...
Mako he needs. If he can't have her love he needs her friendship at the very least, her presence in his life, her voice, her smile, her light.
"I forgive you," she whispers, breath ghosting over his hair and Raleigh nearly loses his composure again but pulls himself together at the last minute, though a traitorous tear slips out to run down his cheek.
Slowly, carefully, she pulls back and lets her hands rest on his shoulders so she can look at him and just take in his face and use the pad of her thumb to wipe the tear away.
"Okay?"
He nods, mute, unable to be even as responsive as a limpet. Okay. Okay, she forgives me.
Okay.
"Promise me," she starts and he's already nodding uncaring as to what it is that she's going to ask because it's Mako and he'll do anything for her, hold her pet her leave her alone-- "promise me that this will be the last altercation. Okay?"
He's still nodding, because yes, it will be. He knows how fucking dumb he was before, and he's so sorry.
"I promise, Mako."
She smiles at him then but she looks tired, a little worn and stressed out and he feels physically sick to his stomach because he caused it. He aches to reach for her and as if on cue, she leans heavily into him, a long, heavy sigh escaping her parted, perfect lips.
"I cannot take you doing this every time something new happens, Raleigh."
"I know."
He knows. He does.
"It won't happen again, Mako."
She breathes in deeply and nods, because she can feel that he means it, that it's true, that it's going to be okay. He relaxes in inches, tension falling off of him like a snake shedding its skin, finally feeling more at ease than he has in a while.
Her presence does that to him.
"I was going to put in for a transfer," he finally confesses, and Mako's head snaps up, nearly slamming into his jaw and he's so glad he saw that coming and moved. "But that would've been stupid, too."
Mako's staring at him with this mixed sense of horror and anger, and her hands find his shoulders and she gives him a good shake.
"Don't you even think about it, Raleigh Becket," she warns and he has to laugh because there is the fight, there's the spirit.
"Are you laughing at me?" She asks indignantly and he has to shake his head no, because that isn't the case at all.
"No, Mako. I'm laughing because I'm finally home."
He can't have what she's found elsewhere, not with her and maybe never with anyone because no one can compare to her, but he will support her, love her, and cherish her in the ways that he is able to, that is appropriate, and that is tolerable.
He'll never overstep his bounds - in any way - ever again.