Chapter Text
"That is it. No. I can't do this anymore. I quit!"
Raleigh Becket had never heard Mako Mori use that particular tone before. She was yelling, as evidenced by the fact that he could hear her but not yet see her. And she was angry. In fact, if she were anyone else, he'd swear she was fucking furious.
A metal door clanged. Someone's bunk door? Fast, hard footsteps stomped around, echoing in the curved, riveted hallways. Raleigh cocked his head to one side, trying to make out from the echo if she was coming his way.
And if he wanted to be here when she showed herself if she was.
And now she was... muttering? Unintelligibly muttering under her breath as she stomped through the halls. Incredible.
It wasn't that he thought Mako never got angry. Of course she got angry. She'd spent most of her life seeking revenge for her family. She knew anger.
But just stomping around, yelling and muttering?
Uncharacteristic.
Soon enough, she rounded the hallway and came into sight, and Raleigh realized his time to decide had just run out. "Hey, Mako."
Do I do it?
"Something wrong?"
Dammit. I did it.
Her delicate jaw clenched, her eyes flashing as they met his and her fists clenching. "Nothing a case of duct tape and a spare plasma caster can't fix."
He blinked.
Heaving a sigh, she forced her shoulders to relax, closing her eyes and shaking her hands loose. "I'm sorry. I just... ugh!"
Concerned now, he frowned and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Not that he thought there was anything Mako couldn't handle. Just... she was really, really pissed.
"Can you snap your fingers and get Chuck Hansen over the flu?"
He blinked again. "Uh... maybe not at the same time?"
She snorted, then relaxed enough to actually chuckle. "I needed that. Thank you." Sighing again, she rolled her shoulders and let her head fall back. "I'm sorry. I just... the marshal can't stay with him all the time, so I thought I could help, but he is impossible."
"Wait, so he's really sick?"
He supposed it wasn't impossible, but Chuck just seemed... immune. To everything. The kid had lived through a nuclear explosion, for God's sake. Chuck Hansen was a goddamn cockroach like that. Raleigh couldn't quite get his mind around it.
"How did that happen?"
She slumped a bit, and he abruptly realized that she looked tired. Stressed. She'd borne up under the kaiju threat so well that he couldn't quite reconcile the reality of regular life draining her this badly. Just how sick was Chuck?
"A particularly virulent strain is going around Hong Kong. Chuck must have dodged the vaccination."
Now that she mentioned it, he did remember being hectored over to the infirmary a month or so ago for a mandatory vaccination. He only remembered because he wasn't used to regular healthcare and had been oddly amused by the whole process. Much like his first bi-annual dental cleaning in five years.
"Anyway, he and the marshal went to the mainland for sundries last week, and he just... picked it up."
"Huh."
Chuck Hansen. Sick with the flu. And apparently being impossible about it to the point where both Hercules Hansen and Mako Mori couldn't handle him.
Don't even think about it.
"Would it help if I took a shift?"
Dammit, Raleigh!
To her eternal credit, Mako didn't burst out laughing. She did look slightly appalled for a moment before neatly covering the expression. "I think... you and Chuck have never really... clicked. You might be more helpful spelling the marshal so he can spend more time with Chuck himself."
In other words, while he and Chuck hadn't come to blows since before Pitfall, they hadn't managed to find much common ground and mostly tried to stay out of each other's hair, so Raleigh would literally be more useful mailing, copying, and filing signed requisition forms than being anywhere near the younger Hansen. Sadly, he couldn't argue.
But Mako looked so tired.
"Look, how about just for an hour or two? Just long enough for you to catch a nap and bring down your red?"
She looked tempted. She looked really, really tempted.
"What's the worst that can happen? If he pisses me off, I'll knock him out and we'll all get a break."
Her mouth twitched, but she didn't allow herself to smile. "Disrespectful."
He shrugged. "But accurate."
The smile broke free. "True enough." She touched his arm. "Thank you, Raleigh. He is... difficult. Just... be prepared."
It had been a while since he took care of anyone but himself -- and he hadn't always done a bang-up job of that -- but as he leaned his forehead gently against hers, he already found himself making a mental list. He needed to hit the infirmary. And the kitchens.
So he sent Mako to her bunk to catch a catnap, visited his own to grab his tablet to keep himself entertained, then headed for the infirmary. The med techs brightened when he told them why he was there.
"There's a whole pallet around here somewhere. We'll get one of the techs to run a case over." The doctor shook her head. "If he'd just come here, we could set him up with an IV, but the marshal won't make him, and we can't make him." Sighing, she rummaged around in a cabinet and pulled down a small, flat box with a frankly ridiculous amount of fine print covering it. "Antivirals. See if you can get him to take them. The instructions are on the back. They won't cure him overnight, but they'll shorten the sentence."
He frowned down at the pack. "Why isn't he already taking them?"
She rolled her eyes. "No one else came to ask us. Mr. Hansen wouldn't let them. Said he could get over it himself."
He grinned, ducking his head. "Probably a good thing I came here first, huh? Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission."
Snickering, she sent him on his way with promises to stay on call. All he had to do was text if he needed anything.
His next stop was the kitchens. Again, as soon as the staff knew the situation, most of them were on fire to do whatever they could to help. He couldn't help but be amused. If only Chuck knew how much everyone wanted to baby him. Too bad the big jerk was too stubborn to accept it.
Although, if Raleigh had his way, Chuck Hansen was by God getting helped whether he wanted it or not.
"Don't suppose you have a whole chicken to roast?"
The line cook shrugged skinny shoulders. "We always keep a stock." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the big freezer. "Only have enough thawed for fried chicken tonight, though."
Raleigh cheated. He made with the puppy eyes. "Can you spare just one? He's gonna need broth for a while, and I want to make some soup I used to make for my mom when she was recovering from chemotherapy."
The poor guy back-stepped so fast he tripped over his own words. "Yeah, no problem, Mr. Becket. Hell, I can thaw out another in the sink for tonight, if I have to. Whatever you need."
He felt a little bad for bringing his cancer-ridden mother into it, but it did get results. "Thank you so much, man. Can you stuff it with apple, lemon, and onion, rub it over and under the skin with butter and herbs, and just plain roast it for me? I'll come back to pick the meat and crockpot it later. Just keep it out of your way and go on about your business. I promise I'll clean up my mess when I'm done."
A passing chef handed him the plate of dry toast he'd asked for and a bunch of bananas. The little guy in front of him nodded and tipped his fingers to his white cap.
"No problem, Mr. Becket, sir. It'll be done in less than two hours."
He put up a hand. "No hurry. I told Mako I'd cover her so she could get some sleep. Don't interrupt what you were doing, man. Just... when you have a chance."
"Will do."
"Here ya go, Mr. Becket."
Another kitchen helper handed him a thermos, presumably full of the thin broth he'd requested. He didn't know if Chuck was throwing up or not, but between the broth and the bananas and toast and the delivery from the infirmary, he should have every angle covered.
"Thanks, guys. I appreciate it. Chuck will, too, when he's feeling better."
He left on a wave of "Anything we can do"s and "Don't worry about a thing"s, and he wasn't at all surprised to find the promised case of Pedialyte on Chuck's stoop. Grinning, he walked right on in without knocking, figuring to put everything down, then come back for the Pedialyte.
"Chuck? Hey, don't freak out, but I promised Mako I'd-- Chuck!"
The last thing he'd expected was to find his former nemesis sprawled naked on the floor, facedown and unconscious. His heart rate tripled, and he practically dropped his foodstuffs on the desk to run to the body and make sure "unconscious" was as bad as it got.
"Chuck, Jesus, what the hell?"
Two fingers to the neck proved the kid was alive, if practically on fire through his skin, and he calmed enough to realize the poor guy had passed out going from the bathroom back to the bed. Trying to ease his own breathing, he went back to the door he'd left wide open, pulled the case of Pedialyte inside, closed the door, and poked through the plastic to pull out a bottle. It wasn't especially cold, but he didn't think Chuck would care much at the moment.
"Chuck?" Settling on the floor, he rolled the heavy bastard to his back, then hauled him mostly into his lap so he was sitting up, ignoring the sweat rolling off the slippery skin. "Chuck, you need to wake up enough to drink this. I don't want you choking on it."
The body in his arms felt about a hundred degrees hotter than alright, but he ignored that for the moment and cracked open the bottle.
"C'mon, kid. Open up. You gotta help a little."
Groaning thickly and immediately breaking into weak, barking coughs, Chuck lurched in his grip and almost fell over. He was slippery, dammit.
"Easy, now. C'mon. Drink."
He readjusted, tipped the kid's head back, and poured a little Pedialyte between the slack, horribly chapped lips. Jesus. How had it gotten this bad? Mako wouldn't have left Chuck alone like this. How long had Raleigh been running around, setting things up?
Chuck coughed a little, then leaned up for another drink. Another. Raleigh held him to sips, but gave him as many as he wanted until the bottle was empty.
"Okay, kid. Lemme get you back into bed, and you can have some more."
"Thirsty." Damn. The kid sounded like he'd swallowed gravel.
"I know. There's plenty more where that came from. Just... whatever you do, don't flop around, okay?"
Because if the big jerk had damn near hurtled himself out of Raleigh's grasp just coughing on the floor, they were both going to end up hurt if it happened while Raleigh was carrying him.
Grunting, he shifted around until he was squatting, then firmed his grip and hefted the heavy bastard up of the floor. He hadn't deadlifted -- please, God, not a pun -- in years, but he managed enough oomph to stumble the few steps to the bed and lay the kid down on it. His back twinged a bit, but mission accomplished.
Now what.
Chuck started shivering, and Raleigh suddenly knew exactly what. He needed to wipe down all that sweat, then get the kid bundled under the covers. And another bottle of Pedialyte. He'd worry about broth and toast later.
A search under the sink in the bathroom revealed a plastic basin -- probably for the cleaning crew, but he guessed they wouldn't mind him repurposing it -- and a stack of plastic-wrapped sponges. Good enough. He ran the water good and hot and didn't bother with soap just yet. Then, ignoring whether or not Chuck would appreciate him getting this familiar, he gently sponged the kid off, patted him dry with a towel, then rolled him to his stomach to do the same for his back.
Chuck was practically shuddering by the time he was done, but he was clean and dry, and he'd feel a lot better for it when he was more aware. So, Raleigh rolled him under the covers and pulled them up to his chin, then pried out another bottle and tilted that big body up against his again for more sips.
More than once, he had to pause and let the kid hack up his lungs. Twice, he had to use the sponge to wipe away snot the poor guy couldn't help expelling. He didn't mind. His mother had coughed up far worse things during her last days.
But he didn't want to think about that right now. Hadn't thought of it in years.
Soon enough, another bottle was down and Chuck had damn near passed out again, so Raleigh tucked the blankets around him, fluffed up the pillow, and let him rest while he went about sorting his supplies. The Pedialyte went into the mini fridge first. The toast and bananas stayed in easy reach on the desk, but Raleigh moved the rolly chair closer to the bed and laid his tablet down on it for later.
He even checked the closet for more blankets, but only found one. When it was tucked around Chuck with the others, he sent a quick request to the laundry for at least two thermal blankets and an extra set of sheets, just in case. And another pillow, because Chuck's breathing was rough and awful and he didn't want the kid to get pneumonia on top of everything else.
Then, he settled down in the chair to wait.
It was harder than he expected. He'd almost rather Chuck be awake and contrary. Sitting silently by a bedside and listening to labored breathing was far too familiar and brought back a time in his life that he didn't like to remember.
But he'd do it. Because Chuck clearly needed it, and Mako and Herc couldn't be here 'round the clock and still function in their roles as marshal and deputy marshal without rest of their own.
So, he tapped his tablet on and settled back in the chair to read until Chuck woke up.