Title: Divided

Summary: "Herc's a wreck, to say the least. He can't keep his composure. There are words coming out of his mouth, but Scott doesn't quite understand them."

Disclaimer: Pacific Rim and all things related is property of Guillermo del Toro, Travis Beacham and Legendary pictures.

Scott Hansen didn't have to say much of anything when the phone rang during the sleepy hours of the morning, almost three weeks after the attack in Sydney. He knew - or rather, he hoped he knew - who it was. Rolling away from his ladyfriend, he raised the wireless phone to his ear and groused an indiscernible "Yeah?" into the mouthpiece.

"Open your door, we're outside," Herc's voice rattled his eardrums, stirring up old emotions.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious. Get off your ass and open the door," Rubbing his forehead, Scott took a moment or two come up with a response then thought better of it. He'd bite his head off later when he was sure his nephew was safe inside and Herc was in range of something he couldn't block. Dumbass thought he could boss him around like he was still ten, the nerve. Shuffling out of the bed, Scott crossed the short distance between the bedroom and the doorway in five minutes flat (the power of no caffeine).

He opened the door. Herc was a mannequin, completely still as he took in the sight of his younger brother. It wasn't that he's not happy to see him, but Scott's half awake, his brain is still relatively running on sleep mode. Chuck marched through the door, a puppy trotting excitedly behind him. Herc strong-arms him into a hug that leaves his face squashed against his chest (he's a few heads shorter than his big brother), he doesn't know how to react beyond patting him on the shoulder.

Scott, you arsehole.

Then it hits him.

"Where's Angela?"

The question comes on the heels of an undignified squeak. They pull away from each other in time to catch the flash of his nephew and the puppy running out of his bedroom as the door slams behind him. Wide-eyed, Chuck proclaims, "I didn't know!"

"Scott, you bastard!" The angry Shelia on the other side of the door is enough to let both men know what just occurred.

"There's a naked woman in your house?"

Scott ignores the teary eyed irritation on his brother's face. "It's not like you gave me time to prepare for visitors," He huffs as he kneels. "C'mere, kiddo."

He opens his arms for a hug; it's been a long time since he's seen his nephew. Chuck stares him down, almost offended by the idea of hugging him. "Charles," Both Scott and Chuck flinch at the sound of his full name. "Don't be rude." Chuck gives his father something of a disparaging look, but he walks into his uncle's arms anyway. Chuck's arms are around his neck and he can feel his breath on his skin, but Scott registers the distance immediately.

The message is loud and clear.

Herc's a wreck, to say the least. He can't keep his composure, so they talk in the bathroom at first. There are words coming out of his mouth, but Scott doesn't quite understand them. Their ages seem reversed; Scott the elder, Herc the youngest. Rationalization; why he chose Chuck over his wife, like there was something he could've done to minimize the travel time and their escape. Scott doesn't try to make him feel better about his choice, he doesn't feel he has that right. Once he's calmed down, Herc tells him the whole sorted tale over a drink.

Scott keeps him tapered, his desire to know the details from what the news didn't tell him preventing him from allowing his brother to binge. It almost seemed too surreal to be true, even with the events that transpired over a year ago. Monsters roaming the earth, it was enough to make a man want to dig his own grave.

"You're telling me the military doesn't know what happened to her?"

"No," Herc was staring him in the face, but he wasn't exactly looking at him. "I'm telling you what my mate told me; the Kaiju killed her, killed her before she could get out of the city."

Scott knows better than to question or challenge the assertions his brother had come to accept. His own reaction was stupid, but his automatic need to question authority was almost second nature now. His eyes switch toward the couch; Chuck is sitting upright, eyes at half mass as he monitored the news stations for any information on the attack. "He- he's not-"

"What?" Herc bit his bottom lip in a move to prevent more tears from falling.

Scott leaned closer, dragging the beer to his chest. "Does he know that his mum's-?"

"What, dead?" The response is almost indignant. When Scott nods, Herc scoffs. "Of course he knows. He's eleven." That's not thirty-something you dumb gizzard, Scott thought to angrily himself. "Have you talked to him about it?"

"I've tired; I'm not sure he's heard me, though. This is the most animated he's been since we left Sydney."

They lean back in their chairs simultaneously, the beer left in the middle of the table. "I shouldn't even really be here."

"Well, that's no good," Scott muttered. "You tryin' to get me arrested?"

"You won't get arrested for letting me in the house. At best, I'll be disciplined when I get back."

"So, why are you here?"

"I need someone to look after him while I'm gone."

"Why not take him with you?" Scott asked.

"I can't take him where I'm going."

"I can't take care of him."

"And why not? You're my brother."

"Yeah, I'm your brother who works straight into the next day-"

"Just change your schedule."

"On short notice, are you serious right now, Herc? With the way things are?"

"It's just for a few weeks, that is all," Herc argued. "After that, I'll come back here and we'll be gone."

"Gone? Gone where?"

"I can't tell you."

"What, so, I take care him now and never see the both of ya at all, like ever, once you're done?"

"No, that's not what I meant."

"Well, how did you mean it?"

Herc started to respond, but his son interjected. "Oi, shut up, I can't hear the television!" He snapped.

"Watch your mouth-"

"Mind who you're talking two, boy," The brothers respond simultaneously. Chuck barely seems phased. He sits up, the puppy slides off his lap and nestles himself right next to him. "Look, I'm not even sure why this is even an argument. I'm not staying here with Uncle Scott, I'm going with you."

"No, you're not," Herc fired back.

"Uh, yes, I am."

"You'll stay where you're told to stay, you understand me, Charles? This isn't up for discussion."

"But you'll talk it over with Uncle Scott?"

"He's an adult, and someone I'm trusting to look after you."

"Why can't I just come with you? It's not like I haven't been to the base before."

"Because I'm not going to the base; at least not for a while."

"Mom would've let me come with you."

An Incredulous expression crossed both Scott and Herc's faces; even Chuck seemed uncertain about the words once they fell from his mouth. Angela would've advocated for the very opposite; she would've argued to stay with Scott while he sorted things out with Pentecost. "Kid, listen, the old man's just looking out for you," Scott tried arguing for his brother. "If he wants you to stay here, it's for a reason. It's not like he's going disappear."

Chuck's eyes shifted over to his uncle, his expression changes and for a ghost of a moment it's like he misunderstood him, like he actually thought Scott said that his father was going to disappear. The puppy whines, however, distracting him and Chuck is far to eager to bury his face in the scruff of his neck.

Scott rubs his temples in exasperation as his brother gives him a look. It was still too early for this shit.

Herc leaves day after. Scott is half awake, leaning casually against the front door, watching his brother explain himself to Chuck in the shortest amount time possible.

His nephew ran the gambit of emotions. From stony faced, angry to teary-eyed, Chuck pleaded with his father as any child did when they thought a parent was leaving them behind. Herc, for all his severity, wasn't any better at keeping his composure, but he had the final word. "Stay here, I'll be back soon, I promise. Be good for your uncle, alright?" Standing, he locks his gaze on Scott. Scott stands upright and holds his shoulders straight as he gives him a two-finger salute.

It's about all the goodbye either of them can manage to give each other.

Chuck's anything but inconsistent. He keeps talk to a minimum and seems to communicate his emotions primarily through his dog. Chuck calls him Max, Scott thinks he's a devil that tears holes in his couch and pisses on the carpet. (Scott immediately regrets buying carpet.) He can't have anyone over for "personal time" anymore. He tells himself he's gotta think about the kid's morals and what not, but Chuck doesn't seem to care. He steals his Playboy magazine's when he thinks Scott isn't looking.

Scott doesn't try to pry the situation that is Angela Hansen unless Chuck breaches the subject. Sandwiches, for some odd reason, make a great ice breaker.

"She was making sandwiches before I went to school," He muttered when Scott had too much peanut butter and jelly in his mouth to ask for a repeat statement. "We were out of cereal, so she made us sandwiches."

"I reckon they were pretty good," Scott chews, moving to drink some milk.

"Jelly and bologna sandwiches?" Chuck shrugs. "Sometimes, I liked mine with peanut butter."

"Right," Scott felt a little queasy. "I think I'll stick to bread and condiments."

His house was only meant for one, and on occasion, company. Sitting at a dinner table built for two people and feeling there should've been another, spoke volumes about their situation. Herc should've been here instead of being wherever else he was, doing top secret things. Chuck, at the very least, had the decency not to ask him when he was coming back. A week could equal a month in Herc time.

They fall asleep watching the news; it's become something of a thing for them now. Chuck won't watch anything else besides the news. Scott isn't sure if he should let him, if Herc would let him. But, he's curious to know about the state of the world outside his job and his house, so he makes an executive decision and doesn't make it an issue.

When Chuck asks him about his relationship with Angela, Scott has to try hard to remember seeing her as anything other than the woman who blew his brother off at the bar before deciding to date and marry him.

"You're mum and me, we never really got to know each other."

"How come?"

"Eh, Herc and I never got along. We were sort've like the same side of a magnet, so we were always bouncing off each other. Never quite connected."

"And mum?"

"Well, considering who she was married to, she probably never thought too highly of me. I mean, who could blame her? Herc isn't exactly an unbiased source."

"And you are?"

Scott actually chuckled at the unintentional assertion he made. "Nah, I'd probably talk shit about Herc too if I married your mum. But, then, I probably wouldn't have you to talk to. The bastard-oh, wait."

Chuck actually smiles at his slip up. Scott hasn't seen the boy smile in- God, he hasn't smiled at all since he got here.

He wakes up on the couch to the sound of feet marching across the carpet. An eye at half mass and head pounding, Scott isn't sure what to make of the man standing over him, at least not until the rapid patting on the face occurs.

"Herc, you bastard, sod off."

"Watch your mouth," Herc reprimands, extending his hand out to him. Scott grasped it, and tried to ignore how aligned their calluses were on their palms. Scott sat upright with a groan. His head is ringing from the all alcohol and he can barely see his brother straight. He knows enough at first blurry glance that he's wearing that stupid vest and a faded t-shirt. Frowning, he said, "Did you go fishing and just decide not to say anything?"

"Eh?"

"Your vest is stupid," Scott reaffirms. "I don't like it, it offends the senses."

"I really wish I could say that hurts my feelings," Herc remarked. "Where's Chuck?"

"In my room, he's sleeping," Scott groans, rubbing his temples. Herc sits down next to his brother. He slouches and falls back against the cushions. "Is he alright?"

"Yeah, as well as can be. He wouldn't say it, but he missed you."

"Hm."

"Hell, I missed you."

"Should I be concerned?"

"Nah, probably just a fluke," It takes a moment but the two find themselves smiling for the ribbing each other.

"So," Scott sighed, "Everything get sorted out?"

"More or less; we have to be gone before tomorrow evening, so-"

"You gotta go?" It was best to get straight to the point.

Herc seemed almost hesitant to say it. "Yeah."

"…Right, I'll get him up," As he moved to rise from the couch, his brother's hand on his arm stopped him. Herc's expression was ragged, his eyes were red and the five o'clock shadow he left with had developed into something just a little more prominent on his face. "Nah let him sleep a little longer. I'll get him when the time comes."

Scott keeps his distance as he watches his nephew pack what little he was given the opportunity to buy for him into a duffle bag from the back of Herc's jeep. Herc isn't necessarily open about the details of where they're about to disappear to, but he does give him a number and a cell phone.

"Use it for emergencies only, it's paid for, don't lose the number," He explained. Scott sniffs at the advice, knowing he isn't the one who ritualistically forgot and misplaced things before he joined the ranks. "Yeah, sure, I gotcha," He answered, brow furrowed. "So, this place you goin' off to?"

"Yeah?"

"It wouldn't have anything to do with the Kaiju, would it?"

"That's classified, so I couldn't tell you, even if I wanted to," Herc responded with all the practiced ease of a soldier. Scott rolled his eyes. "Classified, right." That was enough answer for him. "Look, just don't get yourself killed out here, alright? And watch out for the kid, yeah?"

"He's my son," The way Herc said it clearly meant this part of the discussion was over.

Too bad Scott didn't see it that way. "And?" At his brother's continued glare, he added, "Look, I know you wouldn't intentionally harm the boy, I'm not saying that. Just- don't forget, you're his father."

"You seem to be mistaking me for someone else."

"No, seem to be saying you're a bit single-minded, Herc," Scott retorted. "I mean, it's a wonder you stayed married for as long you did-"

"You wanna stop talkin', now, Scott?"

"No, no, I really don't," Scott retorted. "I haven't seen you or the kid since he was five; last year, Angela called me at least once, once out of eleven years, to tell me you were getting a little wrapped up in your job-"

"I'm a pilot for chrissake," Herc interjected. "And with the state of things, what did she expect-"

"I know that, I told her that, but she was scared you were forgetting your family. So for chrissake, when you go off and do whatever is it you can't tell me about that is probably about those fucking monsters, don't forget you're his father. Let him be a kid, don't make him grow up any more than he has to," He elaborated.

"How I raise my son is none your business," Herc replied evenly.

"Isn't it? I'm his uncle, Herc. I got much a say as anybody," Scott said. The knowledge of Herc's height, skill and muscle was usually all it took to intimidate his younger brother. Scott, however, was feeling frisky. He stared his brother down as Chuck exited the house with the last of his things. He stopped just a few paces away from Scott and Herc, watching the two glare at each other like they were going to duke it out.

"Something wrong?" He asked.

"Nah, your uncle's just being a pain in the arse," As Herc turned away from his brother he never saw Scott choke the space he neck once occupied. Herc glanced down at the comic books tucked under Chuck's arm and sighed. "Comics?"

Scott shrugged. "It was either that or give him a magazine. And I don't have any magazines for kids," He defended himself.

"You ready?" Herc asked his son.

"Yeah," Chuck's gaze fell on his uncle. "Thanks for letting me stay at your house. I'd give you a hug, but-" He motioned to the things in his arm. Scott waved him off. "Eh, it's fine, kiddo. Give me one when you come back," He said. If you come back.

Chuck nodded and resumed his journey toward the jeep, Max trailing behind like shadows. Herc waited until his son was situated in the passenger's side to face his brother. Scott folded his arms, determined to stand his ground. "I meant what I said," He told him.

"I know you did, and if it wasn't for fact that Chuck is watching, I'd pop you in the mouth," Herc replied. "You don't think I can raise him on my own?"

"I'm not a shrink. I think you're hurting and you're looking for something to hurt, mate," Scott shrugged. "And you don't have to raise him on your own. You still got me, for whatever that's worth."

"I can handle this," Herc pressed.

"Yeah, but I reckon you won't handle it well," Scott raised his arms in mock surrender. "But, hey, my opinion means nothing. So, do what you have to and I'll see you never." Scott started toward his house.

"You'll see me soon."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Scott never turned to regard his brother. He removed himself from the equation of watching them go and walked back inside the house.

The stillness of the house struck him immediately; his hands dragged across sides of his leg as he approached the couch. The news was still running footage from the Sydney attack juxtaposed against the three other Kaiju attacks. Sitting back on the couch, Scott exhaled slowly, hand reaching up to scratch under his neck.

He should really call Gloria back.

FIN.

Author's Note: I had a hard time keeping Herc's tone in his my head; every time he and Scott got into an argument, they teetered off into "Joel" and "Tommy"-isms (Joel and Tommy are characters from Naughty Dog's PS3 game, The Last of Us) and I kept thinking they were Texan (I dunno why). That said, I would've really loved it there was some kind of mention of Scott Hansen in the film.