A/N: Ok, so I always wondered why Chuck was such a dick to Raleigh. In my time being alive, I have noticed that, with some degree of certainty, people aren't jack asses because they were born that way, but because it's how they cope with a specific trauma or how they were raised (which can be traumatic for some people). However, even though loosing his mother at an early age and having a father who was hardly ever around would explain why he is a jerk, it wouldn't necessarily explain why he was so harsh to Raleigh. This is my way of trying to figure that out. And because I have come to realize that there are some serious screw ups with the timeline in Pacific Rim, I'm adding five years between the start of the war and Yancy's death. Which ages Raleigh to 32 at the end instead of 27. Just to let you know so you're not confused about the dates. And, in case you were wondering, any and all information I have in my stories comes from the movie and ONLY the movie. In my opinion, if they wanted it cannon, they should have put it in there. But I will admit to picking and choosing some information that is out there on the web. Mostly jaeger and kaiju names cause I just can't name them that well.

Year 2030, Post Kaiju War: 5 Weeks

Decommissioned Honk Kong Shatterdome

Raleigh wasn't exactly sure how he got roped into this. But, Mako had asked him to do it, to help her, Persy and Herc clean out Chuck's room. And, of course, he couldn't exactly say no to her. They were practically siblings and he would do anything she asked him to. Well, within reason.

However, this was borderline beyond reason. Not only did he and Chuck not get along, but he just knew that if Chuck was still alive and found him in his room, well, Raleigh would let him deck him in the face. It was plain asinine for him to be in here. But, still, Mako had asked him to help. So he would.

"Thanks for doing this with me, guys," Herc murmured, running a hand down the length of Chuck's Striker Eureka coat. He had been putting this off for weeks, too busy to take the time to clean out his own son's room. Too afraid that doing so would make the fact that Chuck wasn't coming home real. But, with the program shutting down, the Shatterdome being retrofitted to a warehouse/museum, he couldn't prolong the inevitable anymore. This had to be done, not just for Chuck, but him also.

"Of course, Marshall. You helped with Sensei's room, it is the least we can do." Mako's own voice was soft as she grasped the former ranger's shoulder comfortingly. He simply nodded, his voice no longer working.

Raleigh said nothing. Instead he chose to begin the task at hand. He was a stranger here; an outsider that didn't belong. Best to just get this over with as soon as possible.

The room was surprisingly empty for a conceded jerk like Chuck. There were no posters of his jaeger or photos of him with his hundreds of fans and groupies. There were a few letters (actual handwritten letters) that were spread out along the desk, waiting to be finished or simply mailed to the many people who had written for answers or support. They were surprisingly well mannered, nice even. Raleigh made a mental note to see that these last few letters were sent off before the end of the week. It was the least he could do for the guy.

Simple uniforms and a few graphic tees hung in the closet and the pilot's signature hat sat atop the nightstand by the bed. Herc had paused to run his fingers over a scarf. Clearly a woman's, the blond could only assume it had been the former's wife's. Chuck's mother's. Persy had finished cleaning out the bathroom; just a few soaps, a comb and a razor. Dog toys littered the floor- Max didn't even touch them. A few pictures of toothless kids and families were taped to a tack board above his bed, thank-you's and blessings were surely written on their backs: all people he had saved with his dad and Striker Eureka. A stack of reports on his nightstand, beneath his hat, and a relatively small miniature of his jaeger stood next to them.

Pretty humble, Raleigh thought to himself. Apparently daddy issues didn't affect his moral compass as much as he wanted people to believe. It was all just a mask. He knew a little something about masks. He should have seen the personality for what it was.

He and Yancy had been the same way. Both angry and cocky. Self assured and ready to prove it. The only thing that was different were the guardians that he had compared to the late pilot. Chuck had Herc, a real parent, but Raleigh had Yancy, an older brother who shouldn't have had to be saddled with the responsibility of taking care of his younger brother.

As he continued to reflect over the similarities in their characters, taking down the photos for Herc to keep, Mako pulled a long, flat box from a drawer in the desk. What had obviously been a shoe box was now covered in black paint and tradable stickers of different jaegers. It was comical, seeing a grown man with a box like that in his desk. But none of them laughed. A few small smiles, but no laughter.

"I didn't even know he still had that," Herc muttered, taking the box from Mako and sitting on the bed. She sat next to the brothers and Raleigh took the desk chair and kept an acceptable distance. This still wasn't right. Him being here. At least Chuck and Mako had been friends growing up. Kinda.

"What is it?" She asked, quiet and respectable, but they could still hear her curiosity had been piqued. Raleigh's too.

"Something he had since he was a kid. When the Jaeger Program was first starting out and my brother and I were co-pilots. He became obsessed with different Jaegers and their pilots. Even had two idols whom he followed on a regular basis. About five years ago he stopped. We thought it had been part of him growing up and that he had tossed it in favor of becoming a pilot. I'm glad he kept it," Persy explained.

"Who were they?" Raleigh asked quietly, his own curiosity outweighing his modesty and awkwardness. Instead of answering him though, Herc simply opened the box. Inside were jaeger action figures and folded up posters. Rolled up papers that looked like they had been crumpled up and flattened out again at one point. A shirt was shoved into the bottom, it's logo and shiny words facing the world. A stack of pictures was there also, dates coded on the bottom corners in yellow and red and orange. Smiling faces that he couldn't make out at his angle flashed out towards the ceiling, a deep glare from the lights above reflecting off their matte surfaces. The marshal began removing the toys (Gipsy Danger among them), setting them out on the bed, or handing them to Mako and his brother. A bright blue package that looked like it had once been a present that had never been opened was wrapped up in the shirt, the edges frayed and ripped while the faces where crumpled. It looked to Raleigh as though it had been thrown against a wall. Once everything had been removed from the box, Herc pulled out the shirt and the photos and handed them to Raleigh.

Go big or go extinct, your friends, Yancy and Raleigh Beckett.

The silver words were bright against the dark blue Jaeger Team shirt for Gipsy Danger and they glared out at the pilot. His brother's handwriting (minus his own name) shined just as brightly to him now as they had when it had been written. The Jaeger Program's slogan were etched into the fabric with their names, a moral support given to the kid. But, it was nothing compared to the fact that he had seen this shirt before. He'd met Chuck Hansen before! Him and Yancy. They had been Chuck's heroes? Had Yancy's death and his disappearance had been the reason the kid had stopped caring about other jaegers? Was it was his fault that Chuck had lost someone to look up too? His fault, all his fault!

"Raleigh?" they asked. They had known about it, yet they had said nothing. Never once told him that Chuck had been a fan of his. The pictures in his hands told him that, nope, this wasn't all a big joke or a lie. Yancy and Raleigh both stood there, their arms wrapped around the shoulders of the thirteen or so kid squished between them, happy as could be with his face split in a wildly excited, shit-eating grin.

Mako's hand was on his shoulder, but he didn't notice. Yancy stared back at him, his face and Chuck's were both happy and kind, yet accusing somehow. The air around him felt hot, damp, thick. Pressure began to build around him, his lungs screamed for release, his head swam with sickness and screamed for him to get out. What little of Chuck was left inside the room became oppressive to the point were he began to sway. Clambering metal and kicking feet echoed in his mind.

He had to get away. Get out of this room; clear his head.

So he bolted. He ran from the room and out into the open, where crews were working to refurbish the dome. Their pace much more sedated compared to when they had been working on real jaegers, and not just replicas. But he didn't pay any attention to them, or to Mako and Herc calling out to him as he ran, Max barking his own protests to his retreating form. He had to get away.

All the while, the pictures and the shirt were clutched tightly in his hands.