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Raleigh's a fan of James Bond.
Always has been.
He loves the suave spy with his missions and his ladies and how he never loses his cool. He loves how outlandish the stories are, as they should be to someone whose spent years fighting giant sea monsters in a giant robot. Anyway one of his favorite things is how wrong they get the technical stuff. Like how you slap a silencer on a gun and you can shoot anyone without it making a sound past a little ping. Like it isn't an explosion, like you aren't firing a gun.
Because the truth is that when you fire a gun it's loud.
It's loud and the sound is unmistakable. When you fire a gun at someone whose given everything because they've removed the things you considered gods from the earth, it isn't subtle, whether you have a muffler on the thing or not. It's loud and its horrifying and when you miss it doesn't really make anyone feel better. Because you may miss the person you were aiming for, but that doesn't mean the bullet doesn't find a target.
Like the person standing next to them.
When Raleigh hears the shot his blood run colds and he braces himself for pain. Questions like how the priest got in or why he wasn't patted down don't matter when the muzzle of a gun is being pointed at you. As always in this situation, in any situation, his first act is to put himself between Mako and the danger. Her nails dig in to his wrist but he moves himself there. She's a great fighter, but on raw size and strength he has her beat and he uses that to push her behind him.
shes behind him and he doesn't see her do the same thing for the reporter whose standing there, paralyzed by fear.
Mako saves her life.
The bullet grazes under his arm and he's tacked the man before he can get another shot off. He breaks his arm as he throws the gun away and pins him to the ground. The man is howling, driven mad by things Raleigh pretends not to understand as he grabs the cuffs from the officer and slaps them on him before shoving himself to his feet. He's breathing hard, adrenaline pounding through him as he turns around.
"Mako are you--" he begins and stops.
Mako's got a dress on the color of the sky the day they saved the world. It's pale blue everywhere except just below her breast where an ugly purple stain is spreading across the fabric, one hand is pressed there and her eyes are locked ahead as she draws in sharp but steady breaths.
He never finishes that sentence.
He lunges forward and pulls her in to his arms as he lowers her down, doing everything he can not to jostle her. His hand covers hers, tan fingers still bearing welder burns and neural suit scars encompassing her pale digits. He presses his hand to her side, feeling the warm blood on the heel of his hand where it extends past her skin.
"We need a medic!" He shouts.
The reporter is at his side and she shoves a silk scarf in to his hand. He grabs it and balls up the silk. Mako's blindly following her training, her fingers locked on her ribs. Raleigh uses the back of his hand to tap her face. Her eyes lock on his but they're wide and unfocused. She's in shock.
"Hey hey--" he can barely recognize his own voice over the blood rushing through his ears, "I'm going to put pressure on it, okay?"
It comes out as a question but he's already prying her fingers away. He balls up the silk scarf and pushes it against the wound. She makes a soft, choked sound that's a far cry from the howl she's more than entitled to. He guides her hand back over the scarf and covers it with his own, pressing both to the deceptively small hole.
"Ra--"
"Don't talk," he orders, pulling her a bit tighter against him, "just breathe," he says and takes an exaggerated breath to show her what to do, "where's the medic?!" He demands, but if someone gives him an answer he can't remember a second later, "just hang on, you can do that right?"
her head moves In something he doesn't know is a yes or no. He won't accept the second option, even if he has to slice open his own wrist to pour blood in her so her heart will have something to push through her veins.
Her eyes close when the medics pull her from his arms.
The denial is a wordless shout on his lips as the strap her in to the stretcher. He thinks the only reason he's not screaming is because they won't let him be in the transport if he's hysterical. Worse they'll sedate him. They strap her on to a stretcher and are still hooking things up as they run to the transport and load her in.
"Sir, sir--"
"I'm going with her!" He rounds on the medic who holds him back.
His fist is already clenched when he realizes why.
Her limbs spasm on the gurney and the medics are scrambling around her. Tubes and straps all seems to fly over them and dimly he hears the sound of her pretty dress being ripped open. That's another thing movies get wrong, the jump of the body when those paddles are applied. They press them to her chest and her body doesn't leap. It just lays there.
finally, finally they sit back and he can't hear the pulse monitor but they're getting an IV ready so she has to be alive. He shoves the medic he's been holding like a lifeline aside and scrambles in to the transport. She's pale and still, the blood gone from her lips. Her blue dress is ripped open and the simple white bra she wears almost matches her skin. There are two patches of bright orange on her chest to protect her from the shocks. One of the medics pushes a silk scarf in to his hand, still wet with her blood.
He staggers in to the emergency room as they race her in. He wants to go with her but he can't. A nurse hands him forms with an apologetic smile and his normally bad handwriting is horrific as he scratches out the information. He knows everything, her birthdate, her name, her family history, he knows that her dad had cancer and her mother had asthma. Like he knows she broke her wrist once and had several ear infections as a kid.
Theres no section for the important stuff though. Like how she leaves the bathroom light on, door cracked open just a smidge so she can orient herself because sometimes she wakes up not knowing if she's in her house or his, in her room or his or Stackers. Or how when they started sharing a room she bought him a head lamp so that she could sleep and he could be awake on his top bunk. Or that the only kind of Jello she likes is the berry blue kind so they shouldn't give her the lime one because hospitals give that to people while they're recovering.
He's pushing himself to his feet to tell them that when Tendo intercepts him.
He looks at him blankly before remembering that Tendo's their emergency contact. It must be late because he's got a shadow on his cheeks and he's in jeans and a t-shirt instead of his usual clothes. His eyes are bright with concern as he looks at him.
"Hey man where are you going?" He says and Raleigh's too trained to listen to his voice not to reply.
"They're going to give her the wrong jello," he says blankly.
"Okay we'll make sure she gets the right one," he says, already guiding an arm over his shoulder and leading Raleigh back to his seat.
He nods to a pretty girl whose got a cup and a bottle of water. She holds it out to him but when he reaches for it he sees the blood on his hand. Mako's blood and his breath catches. The pretty girl pays it no mind and goes for the stroller he's just noticing. She comes back with a box of wipes and pulls a few out. His fingers are frozen and she pays it no mind, taking his hand and beginning to clean the blood from it.
Alison, he finally remembers, Tendo's wife. And in the stroller is his son.
He chokes down the water under both their gazes and nearly loses it when the doctor comes out. The three of the are on their feet instantly as he walks over to them.
"We're prepping Miss Mori for surgery," he says, "the bullet did some damage to her lung and settled close to her spine. She's in intensive care," he looks at the three of them, "are you immediate family?"
Tendo and Alison look at each other and then at him, unsure of what to say. The infirmaries in the Shatterdome don't ask the questions, not with copilots. But this is a civilian hospital and Raleigh looks at the half finished forms before he looks at the doctor.
"I'm her husband," he says instantly.
The doctor gives him a skeptical look and glances down at Tendo and Alison who glare right back. Tendo nudges the forms and the doctor sees all the information. He hesitates and Raleigh has no trouble glaring at him.
"I want to see my wife," he demands.
The doctor nods and leads him through the corridor to a room with a blue curtain surrounding the bed. Raleigh pulls it back instantly and fights the bile in his throat. Mako's pale and small in the bed. The hospital gown does little to hide the bandages on her torso, but his eyes go right for the mouthpiece. Someone's pumping the bag, pushing air in to her damaged lungs.
His hand immediately covers hers. Her brow draws together and a sound escapes her lips as her throat works around the tube that's down it.
"Hey, its okay," he fumbles, threading their fingers together, "relax your throat, don't fight it," he says, Her eye slits open and before he can stop himself his other hand is at her forehead, brushing back her hair, "they're going to take you in to surgery in a minute. The bullet hit your lung. They've got to fix the damage."
the nurse glares and Raleigh ignores her. Touching her hand and her hair isn't enough. He wants to hold her so badly, worse than he's wanted anything. He wants to fight this battle with her, wants to be the one they're cutting open even though he knows she'd smack him if she heard him thinking it.
Her throat works again and he shakes his head.
"Don't," he says and his voice is rough, "don't, okay? You don't need to say it, I know, I swear I know," the look in her eye turns desperate and before he can stop himself he grabs her hand and kisses it, "just close your eyes, we can talk when you wake up."
"Mr. Becket?" the doctor is near him, "we're ready to take your wife to surgery."
Mako fights to keep her eyes open but they close anyway.
If the doctor catches the look of surprise on her face he doesn't say anything.
Herc comes, followed by what looks like half of Gipsy's tech crew. They rotate in and out. Tendo, Alison, Herc and him stay. Along with Tendo's son and Max. It takes hours. It feels longer. Thankfully everyone plays along with the story he's told the doctors. Apparently he and Mako got married in a secret ceremony, kept it quiet from the press. They have rings though, if the two thin braided circlets someone presses in to his hands are to be believed. black, silver and copper, the smaller of which has several gems pressed in to the metal.
He would hate himself more if referring to her as his wife didn't feel so damn right. And if it didn't get him updates on her condition.
Wife, soul mate, his everything--none of the words come close to describing what he feels for her. He wipes a hand that still smells like baby wipes over his face. It's his fault they aren't together, he knows that. It starts with him not wanting to push her, to give them both time to mourn. Then because he's a still broken man and besides saving the world his skills are essentially manual labor and taking risks. Oh and functioning without sleep.
Taking risks with everything except what really matters.
He's scared, he can admit that if only to himself. though it isn't like the rest of them don't know. It feels like he's fallen back in to his old life. Jaegers, fame, purpose, all of its familiar and all of it has him on edge. Even after they started sharing a room there are nights when he jerks awake expecting all of it be a dream. Or the result of him taking a fall from the wall.
He doesn't feel like he's on borrowed time, he feels like everyone else is.its Yancy who got dragged out of the cockpit and Stacker who blew himself up on the bottom of the ocean. The idea of Mako joining the list of people who are hurt or die because they're near him isn't one that he can bear. Except it's happened anyway. The difference is those people knew, there wasn't the unspoken stuff he's let build up between them with the others.
He knows how she feels about him, she knows how he feels about her. And it kills her that this is one jump he won't take. She understands, she can't not understand even if its been a while since they were in each others heads. She can't die, he decides. Not before he shows her he can have the same kind of faith in her that she has in him. He looks up nearly every report on lung damage and bullet injuries and survival rates until Herc takes his phone away.
The older pilot keeps a hand on his knee when the doctor comes out.
"The surgery went well," he says, "we're moving your wife in to recovery Mr. Becket, if you would like to follow me."
He follows him, tells himself that the oxygen she's on is purely to help. They repaired the damage, she's going to make a full recovery. He won't accept anything less from her. He drags chair over and sits down and doesn't move from her side. Barely even looks away as he watches her features.
She's drugged, not actually asleep. He knows because he can hear her on the bottom bunk. She practically makes it from one end of the bed to the other. The only times she comes close to laying still are when Max comes for a sleepover or on those nights when they share a bed. They always start off back to back and wake up tangled together, her breath coming down the opening of his shirt.
He runs his thumb over the bands. He doesn't even need to wonder if they're perfect, no more than he needs to wonder if they'd fit. the copper is him, the blue black metal is her and he knows the silver is Gipsy. Her logo is pressed to the metal inside the bands. He slides them safely in to his pocket as he holds her hand and waits for her to wake up.
When she does its with a soft noise of discomfort that has him pressing the call button for the nurse before her eyes are even fully open. When they do he all but collapses in to the seat, legs numb with relief.
"Raleigh?" She croaks out his name and he swallows emotion down.
"Mako, hey," he says clumsily, "don't try to talk too much, they had a tube down your throat."
"The reporter--"
he smiles and shakes his head.
"she's fine," he says, "everyone's fine. A couple days and you'll be too."
She closes her eyes with a slight nod and he sits on the bed, pressing their thighs together and lacing their fingers tight. Mako hates hospitals, civilian ones especially. He makes a mental note to ask about her being transferred now that she's stable. The nurse comes in and looks at them with a smile.
"Good evening Miss Mori," she says, sliding a thermometer under Mako's tongue, "we're glad to see you back, maybe your husband can some of the people in the waiting room home."
That definitely wakes Mako up.
"Don't bite the thermometer," the nurse says and Mako relaxes her jaw as Raleigh scratches the back of his neck.
The nurse finishes her check up and leaves them with a button that Mako can press if she needs more pain meds and a cup of ice chips. She fixes him with a look and he glances back before looking back at her.
"Sorry," he mutters, "they wouldn't let me see you otherwise."
She nods and swallows around the ice chips with a wince. In his hand her fingers turn over and gently squeeze his. She understands, of that he's sure. But she doesn't look happy about it and that sends his heart somewhere to his ankles.
It isn't enough to make him move.
He only lets her hand go when they move her to another room and then he's back. He doesn't leave and she doesn't let him. Not when they change her bandages or change her sheets or clean her IV sites. He expects her to push him away but she doesn't and he can't leave until she makes him. He doesn't want to leave though he feels like he should.
He takes the rings out when they're getting ready to leave and she's in civilian clothes. She stops dead when she sees the bands and he offers a smile that's just a little too tentative.
"Think you can stomach it for five minutes so that doctor doesn't put me in here?"
"You know that's not true," she says tightly. He exhales and nods, "me almost dying shouldn't be your wake up call," she tells him coldly, reaching forward for the ring.
His fingers close about it automatically as he pulls his wrist back. Her fingertips are extended still before she drops them to her side. She meets his gaze steadily and he hates the fact that there's even a drop of truth in her words. Hates it almost as much as he hates the fact that she's hurting still, and this time it's entirely his fault.
"You know when that doctor asked me who I was to you, it killed me that I couldn't give him the answer. Its the same thing with the reporters. Usually--" he hesitates, "usually I can justify it, you know? You deserve better, you deserve someone who can give you everything," she glares like she always does when someone insults him, "this time it was different. This time I knew that there was no-one else who could give you what I could," he shakes his head, "and it wasn't because you were shot. It was because I knew they were going to give you green jello and you hate it but you eat it to be polite."
Her lips twitch and he presses on.
"And I knew if someone visited you, you'd try to fight that tube but you would listen to me. You trust me," he continues, "I knew I had to be there when you woke up," she looks down and he steps forward, "not because of this," he says motioning to the hospital, "I want to be there when you wake up. I have since you dropped me in the Kwoon."
Her throat works as she looks down for a moment longer and then back at him.
"Who officiates?" She asks.
"Tendo, he's the only one we listen to," he says trying not to grin like an idiot, "he also was a boat captain."
"Do you wear a sweater?" She asks.
"No," he says, "we wear our dress uniforms."
She considers it for a moment and then nods, color staining her cheeks as she steps forward. He leans forward and presses his forehead to hers as her fingers slide along the curve of his hand.
"And how do you propose?" She asks.
"In a hospital room," he says, "right before I spend my life making it up to you."
She smiles and shakes her head not breaking their contact.
"I can think of better ways for you to spend your life," she says.
"I can't," he replies.
their fingers dance over each other, the band caught between them until he manages to slide it partially on her finger. she looks up at him through her lashes.
"What are you waiting for?" She asks softly.
"This," he says, tilting his head and gently kissing her.
She responds instantly, wrapping her arms around him as they move, careful to avoid her still healing injury. Its everything he could have imagined and more. When she sighs in to his mouth and steps a little closer the only place in the world he wants to be is back in their room. He pushes the band on to her finger fully and kisses her for another moment before she pulls back.
He holds out his hand to her and she picks up the band there. She kisses his finger before sliding the band on to it. The weight of it settles there, a physical reminder of what he already knows. He kisses her again before they walk out of the hospital together.
No-one questions what they are to each other on the way out.