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Their instant connection pushed Raleigh into focusing on all the things he and Mako share, all the places where they align. It's only with a little time, and distance, and a lack of wires fused into both their brains, that he learns where they deviate from one another.
***
The days after Pitfall seem to blend into one another, never-ending, surreal. Seconds ago, it feels like, he's been in another dimension, another part of the universe, however that works. Then he's in the Sikorsky; then he's in the Shatterdome, the med bay, the mess hall. People are swarming all around them. He's sure he sleeps some time, but he couldn't tell you when and where. It's days until he can catch his breath, in his quarters, alone for the first time since... well, before they saved the world.
He lies on his cot and stares at the ceiling, his mind swirling. It's dead silent, for once, and even so he almost doesn't hear the faint knock on the door. Raleigh doesn't have to ask who it is; their connection is still strong enough that he can feel her presence.
“Come in,” he says, and the door opens to Mako wearing a shy smile. Raleigh pats the mattress next to him, and she lies down.
He wants to talk to her, tell her all the things she already knows but that he wants her to hear again out loud anyway. But the past couple of days were so loud and obtrusive that he wants the silence more. He listens to her breathing, the way it lines up with his after mere minutes. He imagines their hearts beat in rhythm too, now.
Then Mako shifts, and he almost doesn't notice, not until he feels her gaze on him, thoughtful, considering. She props herself up on her elbows and leans in, slowly, like she's conducting an experiment and needs to concentrate every step of the way. The kiss is brief, physical confirmation of something they both already knew. Her smile is wider, more relaxed, when she draws back Raleigh can't help but mirror it, grins at her all bright and happy while she settles in against him for the night.
***
One of their first public appearances is in Hawaii, in front of a gorgeous tropical backdrop that makes for great photos. The PPDC doesn't have a mission anymore, neither military nor guerrilla, but victories ought to be celebrated. Raleigh doesn't mind so much; he'll smile for every camera lens that is shoved into his face and wave at every crowd. Mako's skin is crawling so much in the spotlight that he's feeling it by proxy.
He holds her hand and lets her hide behind him, if she so chooses, taking refuge in the shadow of his larger, wider frame. After every question they're asked he leaves a pause, answers only when it's clear she'd prefer he speak on their behalf, even though he's sure she might be better at it, more eloquent and smarter and succinct. Raleigh's never had a way with words. His mother did, but she didn't pass that on, either to him or to Yancy. It doesn't matter. He'll bear every burden, big or small, if it means he can take it off Mako's back.
Afterward, when the swarm of reporters has dissolved and the ballrooms got taken over by cleaning personnel with brooms instead of officials with fancy robes and even fancier agendas, she leads him to the beach. It's almost morning, the orange sun rising from the ocean already bright enough that he has to squint against its light.
“I know what you're doing,” she says, curled into his side as they sit on the warm sand, water lapping at their bare feet. “I don't need to be coddled.”
He shakes his head; with the position they're in, she won't see him do that, but she'll feel the movement. “It's not coddling,” he tries to explain. “There'll be something that makes me uncomfortable, and you'll take over for me then. We're a team.”
“Okay.” Mako shifts closer still, until her head is resting on his chest and he's sure she can hear the beating of his heart. “A team.”
***
They learn each other in hotel rooms and an endless row of military accommodations. Mako is neat and tidy, except for in her work space, which runs on some sort of intuitive order Raleigh won't pretend to understand. Raleigh himself keeps his living space with the attitude of someone who, for the whole of his adulthood, never had a home of his own: it's not messy per se, but it's not organized either. She frowns at the clothes littering the foot of his bed. He gives a long-suffering sigh in reply.
“Sometimes,” she says, casually, a passing comment, “I'm not sure how we're supposed to ever live together.”
Raleigh freezes. It's not like the thought hadn't occurred to him – they're not going to be freshly returned heroes of an intergalactic war forever. Nevertheless, hearing it, hearing her say it, is something else altogether.
Mako's eyebrows draw together, and the look on her face means she's only now realized what she said. “I didn't mean to imply – ”
“Of course we will,” he says, and means it. They haven't talked about it yet, but imagining a life without Mako by his side has already become impossible. He just didn't think about the hows and whys of it all. He sits down on the bed, kicking the offending pile away with his foot, and she rolls her eyes but sits down next to him.
“I don't know how to think about the future,” she says, and he takes her hand, twines their fingers together.
“Me neither,” he admits. War children, the both of them, and it's a new thing, to dare and plan beyond next week, next month, next year. Even before that, with his parent's work and his unsteady childhood, constantly traveling, he never learned how to settle down.
She smiles at him and squeezes his hand. “We'll figure it out together, yes?”
Raleigh bends down to bundle the scattered clothes up, at least what he can reach without letting go of her, and she nudges his shoulder, giggling, an uncharacteristically girlish sounds that he wants to hear every day until they're old and gray and walking on canes.
***
Before they know it three months have passed since Pitfall, then six, nine. There are parades and celebrations for the first year anniversary, but Mako and Raleigh have refused to participate in any of them. There's another invitation, by far more important.
Tendo and his wife live in a small apartment in Hong Kong, now, not far from the old black market. They have invited him and Mako, and Herc and a few other people, for dinner. All of them got angry calls from PPDC officials; all of them are here anyway.
He reaches over the table and almost knocks over her glass, and all of them laugh when Mako catches it before anyone else registers it was about to spill out on the table. She offers him the plate with fish and prawn, either having forgotten or never having been aware that he's not very fond of sea food.
There's so much they already know about each other, their minds forever in tune, and so much yet to find out.