Work Text:
She had been with two guys that night and the father could be either one of them.
Angela sat on a closed toilet seat and stared ahead at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She looked absolutely terrible. She was tired, hung-over, she hadn't bathed in two days, and she was apparently pregnant. That made someone look terrible, she reasoned, feeling little shame. Like a dead person.
Pregnant.
Not even the realization of her appearance could stop the thought that ran circles in Angela's mind. She had always been cautious, used protection, sometimes never allowing her partners to touch her below the waist. Most of her relationships were with women anyway, so she never thought she would get pregnant.
But, Christ, that night.
Her 'sort of' girlfriend had brought her to a party at another friend’s house who she had never met. The guy had offered some sort of pill, which, on the count of three they swallowed and chased down with beer. It was probably ecstasy. She had taken that shit before and it always made her act crazy.
She remembered dancing with a slew of men. She had been reckless and blacking out left and right. She remembered not caring who her partner was; she just wanted someone who would make her feel good.
He hadn’t and she moved on to the next bloke.
That was her life for a bit. Sleeping and trashing her mind with whatever she could get her hands on.
She had never considered that one day she would wake up from her alcohol and party binge to find out that she was two weeks pregnant.
In her 20 years of existing, she had never wanted to be a mother. But here she was, alone and pregnant, already making mistakes.
She folded over herself and thought of what she should do. She wanted to call her mother, but they hadn't spoken to each other in years. Not since she told her mother she was attracted to women.
They had fought a lot, usually over her partying and her weed stash, but in that moment when she told her mother the truth about her sexuality, her mother had just looked at her like she was a stranger. Angela remembered her mother not speaking instead she just stared at her. Angela must have recognized an emotion in her face: grief, horror, disgust? One of those maybe, it had been so long she couldn't remember anymore. She only knew she like her mother's expression. That was all she had, though because her mother didn't speak that time.
That night had changed everything and Angela left home for good.
Coming back to her senses, her muscles tightened and she sat up straight. Her eyes focused on the mess of a human being's reflection. She looked dead. Her hands rested on her belly.
But there was life in there.
She didn't need her family.
She was pregnant, she was twenty, and she had screwed up. Now she had to accept that and move on.
Charles Francis Hansen was born August 14th and the nurse told her that he was perfect.
He was perfect in that he had ten toes and ten fingers and had a healthy set of lungs. He was loud but quieted down in her arms. He could barely open his eyes but when he did Angela was greeted with mercurial blue that just stared at her like she was everything. For him, she was and that frightened her.
She was alone now in her hospital room. The nurse and her coworker had left to give her privacy. She supposed another nurse would come by any moment to take Charles away but right now it was just the two of them.
When she remembered how she felt the morning she realized she was pregnant, she had been strung out. That is how she feels now but in a different way. Her body no is no longer yearning for alcohol but for the closeness she had with Charles when he was still inside her. He was a real life thing now and no longer apart of her. All her life she had been acting only for herself and he was this weak wrinkly thing that was separate but totally dependent in her.
It wasn't an easy road she had decided to take when she agreed to keep him. It involved facing a lot of ugly truths about herself, some she wasn't ready to sort out other than barely acknowledge that they existed. She wanted to start a better life and in away, her son was giving her that.
There was a knock at the door and Angela was greeted with her coworker and the nurse.
Angela had gone into labor in the middle of the afternoon at work. Her coworker found her in the back storage room and drove her to the hospital. Her name was Marissa and she was just some random coworker, but Marissa was the only person with her when her wrinkly son was welcomed in her arms.
She smiled weakly as the younger girl leaned over to watch Charles.
"He's beautiful," Marissa cooed, as the nurse gently took him from Angela's arms.
She thought he was a wrinkly pink thing that looked all wrong and squishy, even with ten toes and ten fingers.
But he was perfect.
When Marissa had gone home and Angela was truly alone, she called her mother.
"Hello?" She heard a woman's voice say. "Hello, who is this?"
It wasn't that she was a lesbian.
Angela had pondered this for a long time. She was attracted to women, but she wasn't a lesbian. She wasn't attracted to men, though and that was the hard dilemma to figure out. However, Angela knew the truth about herself before she was ready to know it.
When she was younger, she didn't really know how to define herself. She felt off in a way that she didn't think people normally felt about themselves. She supposed she didn't like the way she looked, but she felt it was different than the girl a few lockers away who would complain about her nose. Or the way some of the girls would shyly change in gym class and revealed rolls and cellulite.
She was afraid to admit it, that maybe she didn't see herself the way girls were supposed to see themselves. If she did admit it, then what? She didn't want to go there, open the gate to reveal a cliff on the other side.
She didn't want to be that different. Chalking everything up to her being a lesbian was easier. People assumed she was and it was simpler that way. She didn't have to explain anything.
Angela's mother had stared at her like she was a stranger. Angela remembered that. Maybe she was a stranger. Maybe she was just strange. Her mother didn't even know the half of it.
The same look but flipped was how her mother greeted her when she answered the front door. It had been too long.
Angela supposed she looked different. Older, and not just from growing up. She was taller, and she worked out more, though not since Chuck came into her life.
He was bundled up in her arms, sleeping. He wasn't a quiet baby by any means. He was loud and obnoxious and she wouldn't have him any other way. But still, as her mother stared at her, she was thankful for his silence.
"Angela?" She gasped and stepped out into the porch.
"Mom," she greeted.
"Oh, Baby," she cried and hugged her. "Oh."
She had noticed Chuck who whined at being disrupted.
"This is him?"
Angela nodded and was thankful when her mother took him out of her arms.
She joined RAAF when Chuck was two. He babbled a lot and her mother babysat him for her. She was thankful for the help as she began training. In the military the women were expected to be just as tough, strong and durable as the men, but Angela didn't need training to tell her that.
She cut her hair short because it got in the way and felt disgusting when sweaty. She didn't know how much she needed to do that until it was done. Hair scattered on the bathroom floor around her, and the electric razor lay to rest on the sink.
She ran a hand over the bristly short hair as she gazed at her reflection.
Chuck missed it, though, and she felt only a little bad for that. He liked to grab onto her hair and stick food into it. She found his confusion adorable. He babbled at her and strung sentences together with the only words he knew how but after a few weeks, he grew comfortable with her new appearance and stopped reaching around her neck like her hair was invisible.
Her mother, however, hated it and told her so. Her brother, Scott who was also a pilot, told her she looked butch. She wasn't sure if that was meant to be an insult or just an observation. Scott was crass like that. He didn't seem to care what came out of his mouth. But still, she didn't feel that offended at his words.
She remembered back to high school when she thought that she shouldn't be a girl. She had been scared then. She had been scared since then. Scared to admit, scared to act.
But Angela wasn't like that anymore.
The name Hercules came to her a long time ago when she was a child. When she played with the other children on the playground, they had a game called warriors and she would always pick Hercules because he was the strongest.
That became her nickname in grade school. Hercules. Eventually it became Herc. Her mother always called her Angela though, but even Scott had called her Herc once or twice.
In her new division, she told everyone to call her Herc again.
It wasn’t made a conscious plan to change in that way but every move made was down that path.
Herc was at a bar and woman recognized him as a man. Herc didn't correct her and she was too sloshed to see clearly anyway. That didn't stop them from making out. Herc didn't let things go too far. He didn't want that bubble to burst, but as he lay in his bunk, he considered doing something more than pronouns and cutting his hair.
Other men grew facial hair and while he passed as a man to a drunken woman in a bar, he certainly didn't change the perceptions of his buddies’.
They considered him one of the guys but in that way you consider the girl friend who likes sports. Herc just wanted to be a guy.
There. Admitted.
Herc could finally admitted it.
He got his own plane and he was allowed to fly around like a crazy asshole in the sky. He hated to admit it, but he liked that better than going home, even if home had Chuck.
Chuck had grown or so his mother told him. He learned to say Gammy, which made Herc smile sadly. Chuck knew the word mommy. He didn't know daddy. His mom would put Chuck on the phone and he would talk nonsense. Herc could hardly understand him but he loved the sound of his voice. Chuck was too precious. He was too unreal. How could Herc have had a hand in something so good? He realized that Chuck was going to be a good kid not because of Herc but despite him.
He had gotten hormones. The doctor knew he was taking them, so his privacy was protected even if his superiors made a stink about it. He began to grow body hair, which he was proud of, despite the fact he began to shave every morning to remove it.
He did get a week off leave which he took to drive on a road trip rather than go home. His mother had yelled at him on the phone and only let him talk to Chuck for few minutes before taking the phone back.
"Come home and be a good mother, god damn it," she had cried. "You're never here for him."
Chuck probably wouldn't recognize him anyway. And Herc didn't think he could be a good 'mother'. He couldn't even tell his family the truth. He took the trip grow his scruff out and introduce himself as Herc. A chance to just be himself. He felt free for once.
He was in a roadside bar. The place was tiny and fairly empty. The place only had one bathroom—unisex—and Herc had been in it for the better of half an hour. He looked different. He recognized the hair color and the ice blue of his eyes but nothing was the same anymore. He really did look like a man.
Herc had spent a lot of time in front of a mirror, as shallow as that sounded, studying his appearance and taking in all the different changes. He had seen the many faces he wore, but this one for fucking once felt right.
Herc felt satisfied with his appearance but he knew he couldn't hide away forever. His family would need to know. He needed to see Chuck too.
Going home wasn't pretty. His mother had been horrified. He was the stranger again. That was who he was. She held his son in her arms like he had no business coming to see him, like she was trying to protect him from Herc.
Chuck just looked at him confused. He was squinting at him but Gammy's reaction must have frightened him because he buried his face in her neck.
Herc saw red at that. And words were exchanged.
Chuck’s tearful cries could barely be heard over the roars of their screaming. There was a lot of anger and frustration building between the two. Herc’s mother was mad at him for being such a disappointing daughter and on Herc’s end at his mother for being a bitch.
Scott had stayed home for his leave, preferring local ass that he knew he could get rather than being bolder, but they were lucky he was here. He came down stairs and pushed Herc outside the house and waited with him when Herc angrily marched back and forth in the front yard trying to calm down.
“She has no right, no fucking right to keep me from my son!” He yelled.
Scott just raised an eyebrow and pulled a cigarette pack from his pocket. He casually placed a cig in his mouth and played with his matches. Scott was old school like that.
“Can you blame her?” He asked. Scott looked Herc up and down.
“Fuck you,” He snapped.
“No thank you,” Scott snipped.
Herc walked over and held out a hand out for a cigarette. He let Scott light it for him as he used to when he introduced him to the bad habit.
“Want to explain what this is about?” He asked after a moment.
Herc shook his head but then sighed. “I just want to be me.”
Scott just raised his eyebrow.
Herc came home the next morning. He spent the previous night camping out in his car. The night was uncomfortable but Herc was tired and slept heavily. His house was quiet and he hoped his mom was still sleeping. Tomorrow, his vacation was over and he would have to return to base. He didn’t want to miss Chuck this time.
Chuck was awake in his tiny race car bed but was playing with a stuffed animal. Herc smiled as he recognized it as the killer whale doll he bought him when he was just a baby. Chuck loved that damn thing and it was looking pretty ragged. One of its button eyes had popped out and the seams were wearing down.
“Hey, Chuck,” He whispered as he came closer to his son.
Chuck quirked his head and gave Herc a studious look before relaxing.
"Mommy?" He asked.
"Yeah, buddy, it's me," he said and sat beside the bed.
"You look different," Chuck said and reached out and touched Herc's face. Herc rested a hand over Chuck's.
"So do you."
Chuck gave him a toothy smile. "Gammy says I'm growing up," Chuck explained.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there to see it," Herc said truly repenting.
"Are you growing up too?" Chuck asked still giving Herc a peculiar look.
Herc snorted immediately and then nodded. "I hope so."
His mom found them an hour later napping on the floor. Chuck was napping; Herc was just resting his eyes. He heard her enter and felt a light shadow fall on him as she came closer and picked Chuck up. Herc blinked open his eyes and watched as she gently laid him to rest in his bed.
She caressed his face with a soft look before turning to Herc with hardened eyes.
“Heard you come in, earlier,” She said. She nodded to the door. Herc groaned and followed her out.
He tiredly rubbed his eyes as he sat down at the kitchen table. His mom poured them both cups of coffee. She didn’t offer him any dressing for his drink so he took a bitter sip and put it aside. He glanced at her wondering how this was going to go down.
It was pretty obvious that he was done being Angela. He had a half-grown beard for god’s sake.
She was watching him shrewdly, anger from last night still clearly present for her. Herc was mad too, but he was tired and needed better coffee than this.
“What the hell are you doing?” She asked.
Herc sighed. This was just the more aggressive version of his conversation with Scott.
“You’re trying to ruin him, too?” She asked.
“Don’t,” He said. It was too early for this. Couldn’t this have waited for lunch time?
“How dare you?” She said. “You've ruined your life. I had to watch you throw everything away for that damn girl who dragged you into drugs and drinking. You ran away from home and I don’t see you for years and then you finally come home but you have a baby with you. Now look what you’ve done to yourself?”
“Mom,” Herc began.
“Don’t call me that,” She said.
“Barbara,” He said. His throat hurt and he couldn’t look at her. “I’m taking Chuck.”
He hadn’t planned that. He just wanted to see him and then go back to the RAAF, but he didn’t want to lose Chuck all-together.
“No,” She snapped. “I don’t think you’re in your right mind.”
“Doesn’t matter what you think,” Herc said. “My life, my son.”
He stood up and made a move to go to Chuck’s room.
“Don’t ruin him too,” She said. Herc froze where he stood.
“He has so much potential,” She said. “Don’t throw that away.”
He turned and looked at her. He wanted to cry. He hadn’t cried since he had run away from home. Not when he found out he was pregnant and not even when Chuck was first placed in his arms.
“Go live your life,” Her eyes shifted for a moment. “Visit him when you get time off. But don’t drag him down with you.”
“How can you say that to me?” He asked.
“Because I’ve watched you make bad decisions time and time again,” She said. “What’s to say this isn’t another one? He has a good life here, its stable, he’s going to start preschool soon and you’re just...going to confuse him.”
Herc didn’t say goodbye to Chuck that day. His mom showed him the door and he left willingly in a daze. He didn’t know how he made it back to base, but when he became aware of his surroundings, he was laying down on his bed with a picture of Chuck wrinkled in his tightly wound hands. He placed it on his bedside table and sat up.
Life went on and Herc's time with Chuck was delegated to a half-hour conversation on Sunday nights and a few hours every three months when he got time off to visit him in person. Chuck started calling him dad, which was unprompted by Herc. His mother just thinned her lips in the background. Chuck probably picked it up from seeing his friend’s family. Herc didn’t look like a mother anyway. Chuck probably had no idea what Herc was to him.
Chuck’s room was changing. He no longer slept in a race car bed. Barbara had bought him a twin size bed with transformer sheets, which he loved. He eagerly led Herc around and showed off his favorite things. Although Chuck didn’t mention it, Herc did find an old photo of him when he was in high school, long before he started transitioning, looking every inch the nice girl Barbara longed for him to be.
Chuck was turning ten in a week and he was able to give him an early birthday phone call. He had bought Chuck some goofy action figure that Chuck had gushed about the last time Herc had seen him. He hoped Chuck didn’t already own it, but the kid hadn’t mentioned anything. And though Herc didn’t bring it up, he had made plans to surprise Chuck and take him out for his birthday. Barbara wasn’t fond of the idea but quite frankly, she couldn’t stop him.
But his plans for Chuck’s birthday were never to come into fruition.
They eventually called it Trespasser but Godzilla had been a nickname tossed around in the media. The creature was huge. It destroyed three cities and everything in between. While the US and Great Britain battled it out over the span of a week, the rest of the world watched from news footage as the monster seemed unbeatable.
Herc found himself busy and even his Sunday phone calls had become rare in favor of all the work that had piled up. Herc, as a pilot, found himself flying over the pacific and just monitoring the ocean. The ocean was huge but for once in the history of the fucking world, every country capable of contributing the military power were doing their part: Australia, Great Britain, the US, Canada, Russia, China, South Korea and so many more.
It was truly phenomenal. Right now, as Herc flew over the coordinates of what scientists claimed to be a breach of some sort, Herc could look out his window and see planes and helicopters with different nation's flags on them.
A few months later 'Hundun' attacked the Philippines. The scientist got more evidence to support their theories of the breach and the UN officially put into motion the Jaeger program. Billions of dollars were being thrown together to create giant machines that could take on the Kaiju.
The Japanese were studying the breach and had coined the term Kaiju, large monster, much like the beasts from their films.
Jaegers, however, were a different type of monster.
There was something of a working prototype that was ready to deploy when Kaiceph attacked Mexico.
Scott—the only Hansen family member Herc had seen in the past half a year was assigned to fly with the first Jaeger and provide extra firepower—told him everything he saw during that conflict.
Herc could tell Scott was enamored with the Jaeger program and Herc found himself fascinated also, but there were rumors of that said the Jaeger pilot had died from the technology. Herc needed to stay alive for Chuck.
The next attack was on Australia.
It was like a bubble bursting. The Kaiju were supposed to attack everywhere but Australia. That's how it was supposed to go. Chuck was here and he was supposed to be safe.
Herc was supposed to be flying out to meet the beast in battle. Australia had already met it further out in the ocean but nothing had slowed it down. Herc was supposed to join his brother out there but all he could think of was Chuck. Men and women bustled past him and Herc made a decision.
He ran passed his plane and grabbed the first empty helicopter he could get and flew off with it.
He landed it near Chuck's school and watched as buses began to load up with children and staff.
"Chuck," he cried. "Chuck!"
"Dad," he heard. He turned around and saw Chuck running from one of the buses where he was about to be loaded up by soldier. Herc kneeled as his son threw himself into his arms. "Dad!"
"We have to go," he stood up. Chuck was ten but he allowed Herc to carry him into the helicopter. He buckled him in and with little regard to his environment, he began to fly away. All that mattered was keeping Chuck safe.
Herc had made so many decisions in his life and time and time again he had made the wrong ones. Staying away from Chuck like he had in the past was one, but breaking protocol was not. He glanced over at his son who was squeezing the arm rests and gazing at Herc like he was all that Chuck had, and in a way he was.
And Herc wasn’t afraid anymore.