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"Your adoptive father sacrificed himself to keep you alive, how does that make you feel?"
The question is so horrible, so crass that it makes it difficult for Raleigh to breathe. The reporter’s face is perfectly calm, as though he isn’t asking Mako to relive the loss of her adoptive father, of the man who saved her life. For a single moment Mako’s face is full of shock and anguish, of a pain so raw and fresh that only the fact they’ve drifted together makes Raleigh capable of comprehending it. The reporter on the other hand looks like he’s just asked what their thoughts are on the weather they’re having.
"Did you really just ask her that?" he can barely recognize his own voice over the blood pounding his ears, “she just lost her father. Why the hell would you ask her how she’s feeling about it? How did you feel when you lost someone to the Kaiju? Not like talking about it to some shit eating reporter I’m guessing—"
He doesn’t realize he’s halfway out of his seat until the small hand grasps his, stopping him in his tracks.
It doesn’t matter that the man in front of him is a renowned reporter who would have a Pulitzer or something if those were still around. It also doesn’t matter that one of his arms is still in a sling and partially numb. He is going to beat the shit out of the man until he’s apologizing to Mako for even bringing up Stacker’s death. And then if anyone brings up Chuck’s death he’s going to beat the shit out of them too.
They’re supposed to be heroes now. Beacons of hope to the people. But in the past two days they’ve lost family and friends and haven’t mourned them. They are just as human, just as broken—more broken than most. And they can ask him whatever they want. But Mako doesn’t need to be paraded in front of them. They don’t get a chance to turn her back into that little girl in the blue coat clutching her red shoe. Not if he has anything to say about it.
Mako’s tight grip brings him back to reality. He manages to rip his eyes from the reporter’s now shocked face to Mako’s tightly controlled features. She doesn’t say a word, but she doesn’t really need to. He can hear everything she isn’t saying, as clearly as though she was shouting it. Drifting is a two way street. So is trust. And even though everything in him wants to slam his chair into his face, he forces his knees to bend and sit back down.
Mako’s hand doesn’t leave his as she looks at the reporter. Her face is still and calm, but he can feel the grip she has on his fingers. He shifts his bad shoulder slightly, so his jacket hides their hands a little bit. Even if she doesn’t need to keep holding his hand, he doesn’t want to give her a reason to let go. Her voice is calm as she speaks, betraying nothing as she locks eyes with the reporter.
"My father and Ranger Hansen detonated their payload to give Gipsy Danger a clear shot at the Kaiju homeworld," she says, “their sacrifice was to keep all of us alive. You included," she offers the barest ghost of a smile, "it makes me feel very proud."
Color blossoms on the reporter’s cheeks and he looks at his notes, obviously chastised. Raleigh still wants to beat him and hasn’t taken it off the table fully yet. As though she can sense that, her fingers wrap around the side of his hand. He glances over at her but her eyes are on the reporter, as though she’s just patiently waiting for the next question. His own hand turns over, his fingers curling up over hers.
"What’s your next question?" she asks the reporter.