#pxntecost

"And surging at the blood's perimeter; the half remembered wild interior of an animal life.."

Mako sang under her breath with the song on the radio. Just sitting there was so frustrating, especially now, when she could hardly wait. She wanted to pace the floor, to get up and move around, but she didn't--she wanted, needed to be right there--because for the past week, she had waited for Stacker Pentecost to open his eyes.

She knew he would. If he could survive that nuclear blast, he could heal. Even now she could hardly believe that this was all real. It could only have been a miracle that the Marshal and Chuck Hansen had made it out of the Marianas Trench alive. Thank God for life pods. They both had to go through intensive surgery, but only the Marshal had been placed in a medically induced coma. So here she was, sitting in the hospital, waiting for her teacher to wake up.

Nights had worn thin. They were few and far between. Her, Aleksis, Herc and Stacker. They were a dying breed. Mark-I pilots; antiques; rarities; endangered species. An endangered species that refused to die.

A glass to her lips. A warm surge of alcohol hitting her chest without a flinch. A side glance and a swirl of the bottle before refilling her and her husband's glass. It was a miracle that these times ever happened. Hell, she could remember times when there were months, years in between Kaiju, and it felt like one could sit around and put up their feet like it was some other day. But alas...times like that were small now.