[ At the end of the day, they're not so different. (They are and they aren't; there's the rub.) The same things that had inspired them to temper themselves to steel were the same things that ultimately drove them apart. Chuck and his anger, his hardness, his drive; Mako and her control, her respect and her bent spine. They had both been looking for the same thing: resolution for wrongs done when they were still children. And though their paths had lead them together and then apart, then careening towards Challenger Deep, in the end it had been the same payload that had delivered the closure they'd wanted (just on terms they hadn't been expecting).
Though it's hard to imagine it knowing Chuck now, he was once just an angry boy crying into the curve of Mako's shoulder. An adolescent that looked at her and thought partner instead of not good enough. That vulnerability (that camaraderie), on his part, is gone. Or maybe it's like hers — swallowed down so deep that it's impossible to discern but still undissolved. A flaw that keeps her from utter perfection and yet the tether that grounds her to the people she loves.
(Chuck was always the better soldier between them — maybe not the better person, but the better soldier. As hard as it may be to admit to everything else to herself, Mako has never shied away from admitting that.)
Mako inhales just as Chuck exhales, her own look becoming guarded, her reservedness returning. At her sides her hands hang in loosely curled fists, not ready for a fight but perhaps preempting whatever emotional body blow he might deliver next. ]
Then what did you come for? [ Her voice is more even now, its tone steady. If there'd been expectation before, she quells it, makes it spartan and matter-of-fact. ]
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Though it's hard to imagine it knowing Chuck now, he was once just an angry boy crying into the curve of Mako's shoulder. An adolescent that looked at her and thought partner instead of not good enough. That vulnerability (that camaraderie), on his part, is gone. Or maybe it's like hers — swallowed down so deep that it's impossible to discern but still undissolved. A flaw that keeps her from utter perfection and yet the tether that grounds her to the people she loves.
(Chuck was always the better soldier between them — maybe not the better person, but the better soldier. As hard as it may be to admit to everything else to herself, Mako has never shied away from admitting that.)
Mako inhales just as Chuck exhales, her own look becoming guarded, her reservedness returning. At her sides her hands hang in loosely curled fists, not ready for a fight but perhaps preempting whatever emotional body blow he might deliver next. ]
Then what did you come for? [ Her voice is more even now, its tone steady. If there'd been expectation before, she quells it, makes it spartan and matter-of-fact. ]