payloaded | (no subject)

[ He looks away and Alayne draws back, taking the opportunity to survey his suit a little more clearly. It resembles Isaac's less and less the longer she studies it, reminding her instead of the Master Chief's. (Isaac was an engineer, he built things, while Master Chief was a soldier; did the difference in suits lie therein?)

Maintaining a respectable distance, Alayne extends a hand to her side, only for the space under it to be soon occupied by the broad shoulders of her direwolf. Plunking down on her haunches Lady licks her jaws and blinks at the ranger, as polite and demure as her mistress though much less subtle with her curiosity. ]

He keeps me from harm. Surely a man who wears such armor would be familiar with the concept, [ she says, her voice prickling slightly. ] You must protect something.

[ Alayne lifts her eyebrows. ] Or do you care for only yourself?

[ chuck doesn't have anything to prove. not to some slip of a girl, not to anyone. there's a certain brand of finality that comes in finishing up a suicide mission and waking up on the other side of christ knows where. she's giving it a good run, needling at whatever she wants to pry out of him. but chuck isn't a goddamn hero and never has been. if she's looking for some declaration of nobility, if she's looking for a good man buried beneath the armor, she'll have to look somewhere else.

you are your father's son
sometimes, he's not so sure. ]

Lead the way.

[ In the end, he needn't be a good man. If Littlefinger had taught Alayne anything it was that the very worst men often proved the most useful. Bad men were often driven by changeable things, things like appetite and ambition. Learn how to move these desires and then men followed (whether eagerly or angrily didn't matter, so long as they went the direction they were needed).

Still, Alayne always wishes to find good men. Sometimes they make her feel as though Sansa hadn't been half as stupid as she thought she was; sometimes they fill her with something resembling hope. Good men didn't require wheedling, so good men didn't need as many lies.

But, she reasons, there will always be lies. Always better to arm yourself than be caught unawares again.

He tells her to lead the way. Alayne tilts her head to one side, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she declares: ]

No.

[ it leaves his brows arching, that's for damn sure. chuck has no talent for navigating the subtleties of polite conversation. for learning the ins and outs in ones interactions with others- the ones that can't be dealt in fists and traded in blows. it isn't a skill he's had much use for and one he hadn't entertained the idea of cultivating- but growing up in the shadows he had, he knows it when he sees it. it feels like politics. pieces lining up just so.

chuck remembers his old man coming back that night, telling him to expect the decommission. there's always been a difference between the men who make the calls and the men who hold the line, and maybe that distinction lies in longevity, but the way chuck had seen in- there weren't a hell of a lot of them that were ever going to make it out of the war alive.

no, she says. and he knows that the right answer is caving in. he knows what he needs to say to move on with the damn thing. but chuck isn't in the habit of jumping at just anybody's say so. ]

Fine.

[ it's punctuated by the tuck of fabric against his side and a shift in his posture.

fine.
fine.

chuck turns his back on her and heads back into the hall. he'll manage well enough on his own. always has. ]

[ If there is something Alayne wants to say, she keeps it tucked underneath her tongue as she bites down on the tip, teeth sinking into willful, sympathetic meat that would readily apologize rather than see his back turned to her. Was that what he wanted — for her to be contrite or weepy? For her to fold her hands and no longer be willful or did he want her to fight? Alayne had assumed the later but perhaps she'd been wrong and now she'd never know the answer. Part of her prickles at that fact, niggles with frustrated irritation at both him and her, but another part feels simply sad. (She had prayed for the Hound even though he'd been cruel to her, even though he seemed to take joy in telling her the most horrible things. If given the choice, would she pray for Ranger Hansen?

Alayne doesn't know.)

Fine, he says, and she watches him go, her hands curled in the fabric of her skirt as her pride roots her to the spot and stills her into silence. Lady, however, does not prove as obedient and instead pads forward to his side, looking up at him with her large golden eyes, wounded where her mistress refuses to be as the both of them continue down the hall away from Alayne.

She whimpers once, questioningly at him. (Lady would always express what Alayne would not; the direwolf was more part of her than anyone knew.) ]

[ being followed isn't a sensation like any other. it can't be confused for anything in the world, and while it doesn't raise the hair on the back of his neck, it does prickle at his awareness all the same. to chuck's credit, he carries on a good way down the hall with only the vaguest destination in mind, before he glances back. where he'd half expected to find the girl skipping through her skirts at his back- he finds only the wolf. staring up at him. offering up a whine.

chuck isn't angry, there's nothing to be angry about. but he's not a man who speaks easily about personal heroism. it was one thing to be a damn good pilot, to jockey with the best jaeger the world had ever seen. but where the words go after that, he isn't sure. dying to save the world or blowing himself up for a girl he grew up with and a guy that isn't his friend- they aren't things he has a space for in his head. it's a vast and incomprehensible tangle locked up around who am i and what do i do now.

his gaze lands on the wolf's face, gait slows, and he nods in alayne's direction.
the words are low. ]

Shh. Go on.

[ Even from her distant vantage down the hall, Alayne can hear the low whisper of Ranger Hansen's shushing as Lady continues to follow after him, her ears pinned back now in a look of canine contrition. Rather than obey (she can be as willful as her mistress sometimes) Lady resumes a tiny circuit around Chuck, padding not one but two tight circles around him before turning to the spot immediately by his side, the ripple of her back threatening to brush against this elbow.

Again a curious sound, one that refuses being waved off. Alayne, for her part, doesn't call Lady back straight away, instead watching the interaction play out between man and wolf. ]

She's fond of you, [ she calls from a distance, her hands still curled in the fabric of her skirt. ] Though I haven't the slightest idea why. [ The irony of the situation — that when she speaks for Lady, she speaks for them both — isn't lost on her. If anything, Alayne is hyperaware of it and it makes her cautious, wary of him. (To be fond is a strength when it is reciprocated but on its own, it is nothing but folly.) ]

[ the thought rolls over in his mouth, as much as chuck is prone to consideration at all- much less consideration that comes before opening his mouth. having max around was easy. dogs look for leadership and direction, not good people. chuck doesn't need to be kinder or gentler or anything but exactly what he is for max to come padding after him. that the wolf follows his paces, moves in her circles around his legs, keeps their proximity tight- is equal parts familiar and unexpected.

his reply is largely for the animal herself, and not the mistress who speaks on her behalf. chuck's gaze doesn't lift. he watches the fold of her ears and the steady line of her body. ]

Give it a week.

[ it isn't wholly self-deprecation so much as it is wry observation. knowledge gleaned from experience. chuck doesn't keep company and equally- company doesn't keep him. ]

[ Lady makes a noise in response, almost as if she's understood what Chuck has just said and she means to offer protest. But rather than open her mouth to speak she blinks, then blinks again. Then narrows her eyes as she opens her mouth to give a wide and gaping yawn, her tongue curling as she shows her teeth only to have them snap shut a moment later.

Bumping her head against his hand she makes one more vie for his attention. Alayne, still at a distance, remains quiet. So much could happen here in a week (they could die, find themselves somewhere else, be set against one another as enemies or end up huddling together out of necessity against a blistering cold) but that's commentary she keeps to herself. Ranger Hansen was new here; he would learn in time.

Unappeased, Lady snuffles at the ranger and then flicks her tail at him before tracing one last circle around him. But instead of coming back round to his side she breaks off again, towards Alayne. Rather than call her by name, she whistles once to the direwolf — a few notes like the refrain of a lullaby. ]

[ his eyes roll, and it's as much token protest as it is a dry resignation. the unuttered christ why am i even that comes in the moment before he does exactly what he'd intended to avoid. chuck doesn't look back at alayne, as if that somehow makes the entire situation more bearable- but he follows after lady all the same. gait steady and unhurried as his boots hit the ground.

if there's some greater unraveling in his mind about the act, about what it means, or even that he acknowledges that in it's own way- this too is a decision- chuck's expression betrays nothing. ]

[ She doesn't expect him to follow but when he does Alayne has to quell the tiny rush of giddiness that follows. It has nothing to do with her, she suspects (his attention is with Lady, though that may remain pretense) but there will always be something ineffably satisfying in seeing someone move in the direction she desires.

For most people this would be about power, about influence and control and manipulation; but for Alayne it's more about safety than anything else. A man she can move is a man she understands, and a man she understands becomes less of a threat. As young as she is, she's grown tired of living every day balanced on the knife's edge of uncertainty and the more she knew of the people around her, the more she could predict the tides of their moods and the foundations of their desires.

Ranger Hansen still remains grossly unknown to her, a fact that she thinks will be a long time coming to change, but there is something, — some pull — to be found in Lady.

Perhaps he is a wolf, she finds herself thinking. Then: but what of his pack?

Lady returns to Alayne's side and plops herself down, watching the ranger with eyes (more adoring now; she likes him). Alayne looks down at the wolf and only at length acknowledges Ranger Hansen's presence yet again. She resumes their previous conversation almost as if the last few minutes hadn't even happened. ]

Isaac keeps the odd tool, if they are needed. And he is very resourceful besides.

Sounds like'e knows what he's doing.

[ for whatever irritation that had passed between them before- whatever tension might remain after a conversation more squabbling than true argument- chuck finds that there is no expectation he returns to. there's nothing held over his head- aggravation, sympathy, explanation or otherwise.

it makes it easier. to fall into step with the girl.

she carries on as if no interruption has occurred, and chuck finds himself abruptly with a result he recognizes. there are those that take the punch, those who dodge, those who return it- and those that sigh heavily through their nose and look the opposite direction. it isn't that he has a particular preference, because to do that, chuck would need to know himself. there are some questions he's never asked, and he doesn't intend to start now. ]

He's an engineer, [ she says, a little (but not all) of her usual primness evident in her voice. Alayne declares this the way he might say I'm a ranger, as if she fully understood what "engineering" consisted of. As far as she could tell it required cleverness and a nimbleness of both hand and mind. She's spent hours (days, nights) in his company, watching him sketch things from his dreams and from his world. Machines, things made of metal (and darker things, too, drawings he hides from Alayne but which she knows exist, having seen him through his share of nightmares).

This time she does not wait on him to turn on her heel and continue back down the hall in the direction that she'd come. Lady lags behind, attentive to Ranger Hansen, nudging his hand once with her snout before trotting off in Alayne's wake. It isn't far because the dorms aren't very large and the wings themselves do not stretch and stretch; the stairs that separate the floors are not steep. ]

[ chuck keeps his silence for every step they take. it isn't locked away like a jealous lover, or stuffed into a drawer like old photographs- but his mouth doesn't twitch and his expression doesn't flicker. chuck shares no likenesses perhaps because he offers none in return. it's the kind of thing one might seek out in others- a sense of belonging, or a lack of aloneness. to be a jaeger pilot means that he will exist perpetually between these two extremes, and there's a quiet understanding of this fact that pours into his bones until it takes root. until it becomes commitment. until it's all he is outside the corps and all he is outside of striker.

all he is outside the drift.

alayne leads the way and her wolf goes on ahead, but chuck says nothing. it is as much a dry resignation as it is a child's petulant (meaningless) protest. ]

[ Alayne knows the way by heart and can find Isaac Clarke's room blind, if need be. There are times when she visits late at night when the lights in the hallways flicker and burn out and there is nothing left to do but feel around in the dark. Luckily there is none of that needed today, with Lady trotting ahead easily and Alayne following with Ranger Hansen pulling up the rear.

Somewhere along the way as they climb the stairs to the third floor she pulls out her watch from her dress and sends him fair warning that they're to arrive soon. When they finally reach the door in question Alayne stands infront it but then fails to knock. Turning on her heel she meets Ranger Hansen's gaze, leveling him evenly with a simple declaration. ]

Engineer Clarke has agreed to this turn of favor. Please do not ruin it with your— [ You-ness. ] —barking.

[ And then before he can so much as respond, Alayne has turned again and is knocking briskly upon Isaac's door. Once, twice, in a careful rhythm — one he'd recognize as specifically her. ]

[ he's sketching in a notebook when he gets the text from alayne. a warning of sorts. they'll be here soon, she says, which gives him enough time to set out a few tools (what he thinks he might need and perhaps some precautions otherwise). he has a vague idea as to what alayne requires his assistance for, so his tools are lined on one of the small desks they've been given.

the knock comes, thankfully, expected, bringing him to slip out of his room slowly at first.

when he meets them at the door, he greets alayne first with a nod and then lady with a careful ruffle between her ears that turns into a gently scratching just along her jaw. turning his attention to chuck is the last thing he does, observing him briefly from top to bottom and stepping to the side of the door to let them in. ]

Ranger Hansen, right?

[ his mouth is open even as her knuckles come to the door, and whatever it is that keeps the words in his mouth is a matter of opinion. he's certainly never been afraid to speak his mind, despite the content or the audience. that he's formed some fragile rapport with a girl who is barely more than that, a girl, that nearly the entirety of their conversations are bickering- doesn't occur to him. she tells him to mind his manners and chuck wants to bark back that this is her stupid idea- that she' the one checking on him. turning up with clothes and questions- herding him around the city like he's some adopted charge.

but the door comes open all the same and the moment is lost.

the man standing there is as much what he expected as he isn't- though this is owed largely to chuck's absolute lack thereof. there's a guarded gratitude in his expression, because there has to be something when he's wearing the guy's clothes- but verbal extensions don't appear forthcoming. lady's tail bats against chuck's knee, and he doesn't look down. ranger hansen. it's the first time in what feels like an age that anyone's said it with that kind of inflection. his spine straightens on reflex, and the dip of his chin is fractional- but present nonetheless. ]

Mister Clarke.

[ Isaac opens the door and, without truly meaning to, Alayne lights up the way a room fills with light the moment a switch is thrown or a candle is lit. Lady takes to the man immediately (much like as with Chuck only warmer), that bat bat bat against Chuck's leg only intensifying before she breaks from her mistresses side completely and pads into the small suite of rooms as if she truly belonged there.

Alayne does not hesitate to follow after, though she pauses long enough to return Isaac's nod with a tiny curtsey of her own. This looks and feels, on her part, almost perfunctory in the way her gaze lowers not out of modesty but amusement, some unspoken exchange passing briefly between her and Isaac before she too brushes past, her hand very briefly touching his elbow as she does so. There is an air about her now that is decidedly different than when it had simply been her and Ranger Hansen. She seems young, not in naive way, but in a way that is self-aware and almost mischevious; a mix of don't be cross with me and look what I've found and he's awful, just wait and see. The transition between one version of Alayne and the next is practically seamless, a deft trading of temperaments. If Chuck is a dog whose bark she must suffer, Isaac is like a modest star whose sunlight she's eager to drink.

She moves about the room with easy familiarity, pausing at his table to study the tools he's laid out, a hand touching his notebook. ] Four hands, Isaac? [ she asks.

(Do you need my help?) ] Or simply two?

[ Raleigh tells her eventually where the bruise purpling the rise of his cheek is from and when Mako hears the news something inside her shutters closed like slats on a set of blinds or locks on a dam. It's the only way to keep what's inside in (—shut it down, lock it up, swallow it, if you have to—) and while it isn't pleasant it serves Mako as well as it always has.

Chuck alive. Here. With them.

She isn't so selfish as to dwell on what this means for her, personally, though she does allow herself to consider what it could mean for them as a whole. Two is better than one, three is better than two. (Mako gives a spare thought as to what Marshal Hansen will do, has done. When he sees Chuck again, does he embrace him as a son? Or does he salute him for a job well done?)

Mako leaves it alone for a day. Then two.

Then on the third day she contacts him. ]

We should talk.

[ As if they were even capable of talking. As if their last actual conversation hadn't been years and years past. ]

[ it's only a matter of time, and truth be told, there isn't a doubt in his mind as to the origin of the message. there's some quiet part of him that wonders if he should have something more to say. if having died at pentecost's side matters more than giving her partner a black eye barely a day ago. if one of those things is greater debt than the other.

in the end, he doesn't mention either one of them, and his reply betrays everything and nothing, all at the same time. ]

room 203?

[ She wonders how he knows. Maybe Raleigh has told him (she doubts it) or maybe the marshal (much more likely). It never occurs to her that Chuck might have known all along, that he would have gone and then kept to ground even after learning the truth of his fellow copilots. She doesn't consider it because Mako knows she would have done differently. (Even with the memory of Raleigh breathless and heavy in her arms she had searched for him as if he was alive and well.)

Their exchange is brief. Pared down to only the essential information. (It doesn't feel painful, it feels — status quo. What did that say about them?) ]

North.

[ he hasn't gone looking in all the time he's been aware, but he's never been the type to flash his hand. chuck gives little away because there's little to give. because he functions in sharp delineations and operates as needed. it was never the job of a ranger to ask questions- only to suit up and to fight. to take down targets and return to base.

he's not sure how she knows. maybe his old man told her (he doubts it) or maybe becket (much more likely). if she's decided to seek him out, chuck decides that it must mean she has a reason to. there's good sense in keeping the rangers together, the kind of eventuality he could expect in having come across his father- but chuck's never been much for good sense either. ]

when [ because they don't share the same sense of urgency. because maybe, chuck would go on with his distance and his silence for who knows how long. ]

[ Whatever desire she has to see him sooner rather than later isn't reciprocated; his last message makes that abundantly clear. But this isn't news to Mako — Mako who had spent the last vestiges of their friendship chasing after something in Chuck that had long since ceased to exist. The feeling of returning to it now (again) is familiar, almost nostalgic (and therefore painful in the way most memories were). But what had once been poignant has been worn down to little more than a dull presence under Mako's breastbone. Perhaps this was another instance of Chuck simply needing Chuck and no one else. Or perhaps he simply didn't want to see her (there are elephants in the room, ones that loom as large as death).

Whatever the case, she doesn't take it personally. (Just because she doesn't agree with Chuck doesn't mean she's failed to understand him over the years.) He was entitled to his space and beyond being a fellow ranger, he didn't owe her anything.

(That's what she tells herself.) ]

Whenever you're ready.

[ Whenever you want is too loaded. ]

[ whenever you're ready is rife with implications, but none so much as the assumption that he isn't ready now. and he could take the time to unravel that- to wonder what it means, wonder if she's right. to look at his how and why and try to understand what it is in him that might have need- but he can't. chuck can't because he never has, because there are some things he can't change because there was a point in time where he decided he needed to be made of stronger things than flesh and blood.

whenever you're ready suggests that he isn't (and he isn't)
but chuck is going anyway. ]

on my way

[ She could tell him to wait, to take his time. (Because they have time now, more than they ever did at home.) Even with new sets of challenges cropping up daily the kaiju weren't here and the sense of urgency that had accompanied the last payload has come and gone, leaving in its wake only the afterimage of its final detonation.

But Chuck is Chuck and makes up his mind when he wants to. (And once it's made, it's never really unmade.) Ready or not, it didn't matter—
Chuck was going anyway.

Mako spends the time between his last message and his eventual arrival trying to decide what to do next. Should she meet him out in the hall? Should she wait for him at the door? Without realizing it she walks back and forth between her window and the door several times before forcing herself to sit back down on the bed. She considers contacting Raleigh to tell him but, in the end, doesn't. ]

(no subject)

» action.

» action.

» action.

» action.

» action.

» action.

» action.

» action.

» action.

» action.

» action.

» action.

» action.

» action.

» action | isaac » chuck » alayne

no subject

no subject

no subject

( i v : d 6 )

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject