random loose threads

[driftsintobuffetline]

Some content may not be suitable for underage readers.

2016
January 29 - Returning from Submarining
February 13 - What are you thoughts on MARRIAGE?
February 16 - Day 1, Soviet Occupied Import Cities
March 12 - They were supposed to talk about Miles and Greg, but talked about themselves instead
April 14th - Kinks, Tatts, and Power Suppression
June - Admiring the Ring
July 27 - Hermann's New Car
After the Kaiju Test - Need a New Apartment

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[driftsintobuffetline]

He squeezes Hermann's leg gently, uneasiness growing in the pit of his stomach. "Hermann. Hermann, it's okay. You don't--it's not riding on you. There's two of us--together, okay? We'll figure this out. Put our heads together." He leans in and gently knocks his head against Hermann's. "Like old times."

Dinner is pushed aside onto the coffee table. Newt's voice wavers, but he tries to be strong, tries not to think about this horrible need to throw up because of stress (which is probably partly Hermann's thought), tries not to want to cry or give up because they didn't give up when it was Kaiju and the Russians are such small potatoes in comparison, but how is science supposed to do anything?

"We don't give up, Hermann, we don't know HOW to give up. We'll- We'll try again. Tomorrow. After you've rested. Or we'll try something else. We'll keep trying, every day, until we get it right. It's not on you, dude. Don't shoulder it like it is. We're gonna do this."

[mathemagier]

It's not okay, and for all the man's brilliance, Newton can't get them out. There are no airports they can reach by normal means, the roadways are cut off and treacherous, and they simply don't have time. They never have enough time. Never have enough data.

Hermann sets down his mug with shaking hands. "And where are we going to go, Newton?" he snaps. "How are we going to know what locations are safe? My teleportation is extremely limited and if we're wrong, I won't have the strength to port us elsewhere. LACKEY ported you to Antarctica, Newton! It's entirely possible there's nowhere that's safe!"

Hermann grasps for his cane, much too agitated to be sitting down, but he fights a losing battle to stand up and bats away any help Newton tries to offer. He's already been dependent on the man all day and his body's weakness only fuels his ire. His cane whips across the room in a fit of temper where it collides loudly with the door, and Hermann slumps back against the couch, drawing in deep, hard breaths.

"I don't know why I even bother," he snarls. "Successfully predicted every kaiju attack and couldn't stop any of them. I understood everything about the Breach except how to access it. Every failure cost us thousands of lives, and close to our entire arsenal of Jaegers. If not for your drift, we would never have known..!"

He's losing his grip, and his voice starts to edge on hysterical. "I'm not a hero, Newton. I thought perhaps I could be, if I could just protect one person, but I can't.." His hands come up to cover his face, breaths hitching. "I couldn't even find you, let alone protect you now!"

[driftsintobuffetline]

Tears prick at his eyes as he watches Hermann--steady, solid, proud Hermann--unravel. He used to get mad at Newt when he was upset and stressed, now they can't (won't?) use each other quite that harshly and it hurts, because he would rather be screamed at and have it out than have Hermann suffer like he is.

"Hermann..." He's stressed and he's started to cry, both for himself and for Hermann, because someone was going to break and release this pent up frustration and Hermann has just been snapping and throwing things and Newt has always broken first. The cane against the door has left him with goosebumps--and a hysterical Hermann is terrifying to him. Angry Hermann still has some control, some confidence, but they've passed that threshold and fallen into a state where Hermann is so insecure, so out of his own rigid control, that he doesn't actually know what to do with himself. Newt isn't sure he's ever really seen Hermann so hysterical, so entirely upset and not AT HIM. He's used to rising to fight. He's not used to this.

Newt reaches for his partner, trying to put his arms around Hermann properly, to pull him close. He's never been comforting, but Hermann needs that and Newt needs to learn to be strong when Hermann is not, because the reverse has been true for too long without reciprocation. Being strong would be so much easier if Newt wasn't breaking down too. "Dude, Hermann. You're my hero. I didn't--I didn't mean to burden you with the title--I didn't, really--" he says through tearful gasps, "you can't take this all on yourself; you're my hero, not my savior, Hermann." His voice breaks on the last syllable as he places his hands on either side of Hermann's face, but he's not sure what to say, so he just holds him.

[mathemagier]

Hermann stops resisting, lets himself be pulled into Newton's hold, and hates that he can't keep it together. Newton's face blurs through his tears, and he touches him like he could disappear at any time.

"I- I know that Newton, hush.." he swallows thickly and his breaths hiccup in his throat. "I'd just wanted to.." To be able to live up to that title in the same way Newton always wanted to be a rockstar. It was stupid to think he could, powers or not.

"There's just s-so much I can't do. Can't even.. bloody stand correctly. I- I'm weak, Newton; that's never going to change, but I thought if I could just.. just be strong enough to protect you, that it would be enough. But I can't.. can't even manage that."

His shoulders slump and he leans into Newton, defeat etched into every line of his body. His next words come out in a whispered rush of confession. "I'm just so tired of failing!"

[driftsintobuffetline]

He shakes his head. Hermann isn't failing, he isn't weak, he is so very strong and Newt still doesn't know what to say because I love you is not an answer or any kind of solution and yet he loves Hermann too much to let him go on thinking those things about himself so he holds him tighter and cradles his head against Newt's and cries. Fuck the Russians. Fuck the US, too. Everyone that dragged them into this, that has decided they are weapons and pawns can be damned to a Hell Newt doesn't even believe in.

He and Hermann could be stranded here, they could be stuck or could escape and be pulled back and Hermann is going to blame himself and the Russians will do god-knows-what to them and it will be all over and they had been so happy...and all he wants...

Smoothing down the cowlick with loving care, he presses a kiss to Hermann's forehead and then exhales slowly, heavily, with a sniffle. Newt hasn't felt this tired since Operation Pitfall ended.

He find Hermann's left hand and runs his thumb under the wristband of the watch then, over the pulse in his wrist. It's steady, if a bit rushed. He brings his thumb up the heel of Hermann's palm, across the veiny expanse of it--a long life-line, if he remembers an old roommate's gag-gift correctly--turns over his hand, tracing the ridges of one long meta carpus to his bony knuckles and finally, to the back of his ring finger. His empty pale ring finger.

The familiar phrase out of his mouth next is all he has left of his poorly constructed arsenal of comfort words and inspired phrases: "Shut up, Hermann." His voice strains with emotion, affection, pain and sadness, and he starts to cry again, all but pulling Hermann into his lap. This is the man he wants to spend a lifetime with; they're giving up, he's going to hold Hermann until he...can't.

[mathemagier]

Though it hurts to lean his weight on his left leg, Hermann uses it to follow Newton's insistence and shifts his good knee over his partner's legs until he's straddling him on the couch. The pain dulls down to discomfort, but they're close now, huddled together in a reverse of the same position Newton held him when they'd first gotten in.

He does shut up, if only because he can't get another word out. An inexplicable sense of loss pervades and twists his chest into a tight knot. He presses wet kisses against Newton's face, running restless hands through his hair. He can't lose him, can't fail him, but what can he do? How could he protect them?

Maybe he should build a wall-- and that just provokes another hot rush of fresh tears. God, Newton had been so angry with him, didn't want to run, wanted to stay and help, and maybe that's all they can do now. But how can they help anyone if they can't even save themselves?

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Newton. He breathes the thoughts into Newton's hair, staring blankly down the hall behind the couch. He needs everything that he doesn't have: strength, energy, time, data, answers.

"I.. we- we'll port to another country tomorrow morning. If that doesn't work, then I don't.. It's all we can do." It might be the last attempt they'll be able to make.

[driftsintobuffetline]

I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry I can't get you data like I should. Because we're in this together.

He drops his forehead against Hermann's collar and listens to their shared breathes, the steady thump of Hermann's heartbeat. The imPorts will fight this, tooth and nail. Some of them, sure, will roll over and show the Russian's their bellies, but there's fighters among them--both in the traditional warrior sense and otherwise. People with enough rebel in them to defy authority, enough dedication to stay with the resistance until the clock stops.

Some of these people have probably faced worse than the Russians' methods back home.

"There is never an 'all we can do,' Hermann. We didn't stop when the PPDC cut funding, or when the war built a deadline--there's always another play we...didn't think would work but does, or buys some more time. And if we don't find it, someone else will. Someone else will because, dude, we're not alone anymore." He hopes that sounds positive, because Hermann needs something more positive than either of their cranky, burned-out, tired, sorry selves were capable of for those last few years of war, or than Newt feels capable of now. But they need it.

"Herm, look at me, dude." He cranes his neck up to kiss the underside of that perfect jawline and then wipes at some fresh tears streaking down Hermann's cheek. "We Drifted with a motherfucking Kaiju Hivemind and kicked ass. I think we can handle whatever the Russian's try to push on us."

[mathemagier]

There are times he hates this world. Things that should be impossible, and are impossible to defend against. They're helpless against such a domineering power and he doesn't know the first thing about countering it. He's.. he's a physicist thrown into a world where those laws don't necessarily apply- like someone had gone and programmed a new set of rules that functioned solely in if/then statements.

Well if nothing else, there's a thought. It would require massive amounts of research and not everyone would cooperate, but perhaps it could give him a general idea..

At any rate, it's nothing that applies to the situation they find themselves in now.

Hermann stares into Newton's brilliant green eyes and swallowing, strokes his thumb over an ear. He kisses him in the next moment, because it's everything he can think to say; gratitude, love, and burgeoning hope. He's never been good at taking risks, but he'll do anything to keep Newton safe.

"Yes," he answers with a tremulous smile and wavering voice to match. He's not very convincing, but he's making an attempt at optimism. "Yes, of course. If our minds weren't destroyed by the kaiju, then surely.."

[driftsintobuffetline]

He clings to Hermann's jacket and kisses him back. He's determined, refuses to lose his sanity to this Occupation, refuses to lose Hermann to this mess. This is what he is willing to fight for. This man, this home, this love. They can't lose this. The Russians can do their worst, but Newt refuses to let them take Hermann from him--in mind, body, or soul.

"You're stuck with me, Hermann. They can't take that way. We're fighters, we're scrappy. We'll keep getting up. They're not going to destroy us."

Behind Hermann's back, Newt's hands meet each other and he twists the pinkie ring with some consideration. Finally, he pulls the ring from his finger and brings his hand up between them, a little too high for Newt, but about eye-level for Hermann, the silver skull pinkie-ring pinched between his thumb and index finger.

He takes a deep breath, licks his lips.

Marry me. Here, now, marry me. I don't believe in God, but in the sight of whatever deity you want, marry me.

His heart hammers in his chest.

Newt parts his lips to speak. Stops.

This is giving up. This is resignation to the thought that they can lose, and they had NEVER... Newt hadn't even said goodbye to his father and uncle because (he isn't superstitious) that meant he wasn't coming back. And he was. He is. And he will do this right, on bended knee, with a proper ring.

Because he has to believe they have time.

"Wear it." There is the rise of a question to the end of that statement. "I, uh, if we get separated during the seminar, I want you to have it, have something of mine--" because our connection will be weakened, I want to still be connected to you. "You kept--keep--me grounded, Hermann, through the Drift. I'll be your tether to reality, too."

[mathemagier]

Hermann stares at the ring, wide-eyed and with a heart trying desperately to free itself from his chest. The impressions he gets from Newton are everything he expects and nothing he knows how to contend with. His eyes flicker between Newton's and the ring held for his inspection. God they aren't ready, they aren't ready and he knows that- or maybe Newton is but he's not, and they've talked about this before. The man won't take any sort of refusal lightly. But he knows, knows everything and perhaps-- a long engagement? They've already sort of agreed to marry one another eventually. Would it even fit any of his fingers comfortably..?

But what comes out of Newton's mouth isn't a marriage proposal and Hermann sags; different parts of relieved and oddly disappointed. Sure it doesn't make sense, but that Newton might truly wish to marry him. Of course that leaves him with an entirely different scenario to piece apart. He doesn't make any move to take it.

"Newton... I understand what you're trying to do here, but perhaps your tracker ring isn't the best way to go about it." For practicality's sake as well as... well, everything else. "I.. I already have this watch that never fails to remind me of you." He runs his fingers over the band around his wrist and casts a speculative look about the bits of apartment he can see. "I don't know that I have any sort of token to offer you.."

[driftsintobuffetline]

He gets the impression it's better he quelled that impulse. Too soon, he feels come back at him, and Newt wonders if it will ever be the right time. They've agreed to marry, basically, but...

They're committed. He can't forget that. Hermann's not going to just...well, he might, but where would he go...? Newt's just got to be patient, fit into the plan...Hermann's plan. He can't scare him away...again.

Still, the disappointment is heavy and immense, because he knows Hermann can see through his quick change, his save, knows Hermann knows what Newt almost did, and the refusal feels like Hermann has actually refused what Newt didn't say. It's twisted and dumb--he didn't ASK, didn't want to ask NOW, talked HIMSELF out of it--but that doesn't change how it hurts. He lowers the ring, frowning at it like the little thing has betrayed him, and settles on the watch.

The watch makes him feel so...proud, even as the refusal still stings. When Hermann sees that watch, he thinks of Newt, Hong Kong, the two of them together. It's enough. It has to be. It might be all they ever get.

"Dude, you don't need to reciprocate every offer, it's ok." He rubbed Hermann's back. "We'll be out of here before I need anything anyway. But I planned to wear my jacket. I'd spring for a tatt if I thought it'd stay."

[mathemagier]

Newton's disappointment is a tangible pang in his chest, and the assurance rings hollow. It's too late to take anything back now, and it wouldn't be any way to start an engagement on muddled feelings and uncertainty. He searches Newton's eyes and brushes gentle fingertips over his cheek and scruffy jawline. Wants to offer reassurance of his own, and struggles with the words.

"Newton, our romantic relationship is barely a few months old. We were only friends a few months before then. Some people wait years before they're ready to risk an engagement, and we have been moving very quickly in comparison. Some of this I can reason out by the length and depth of our working relationship, but Newton.. I want to be certain this new territory isn't fragile before we make anymore promises. Give me six to twelve months of this, and I will be ready."

And even that will be cutting it close. The ideal length of courtship is said to be one to three years before marriage, he knows, but he's willing to accept some level of risk given everything they'd seen each other through during the past five years. Somehow they didn't wind up murdering one another and that in itself is rather remarkable. Surely it says something about their constancy.

[driftsintobuffetline]

Risk an engagement.

Risk. He is a fucking risk. A danger. A hazard. A gamble. Of course he is. Of course. He's unsafe, a menace ('every bloody day--how many times have I told you...'), annoying, a brat, a very unsure bet (and Hermann only takes calculated risks)--there are reasons they didn't work before and there are reasons they might not work now. Hermann called it 'averting a disaster' when they had this talk before. Six to twelve months to make sure this is viable, that they won't implode again, and in that time, what, one of them could vanish from here, or die, or Hermann could just get fed up with him and leave. And he could. Where would he go? Oh, Hermann probably already has a contingency plan of what to do if this fell apart. Newt doesn't. Maybe he needs one.

He had thought Hermann just wanted time to plan, to be comfortable with the idea of marriage, that it wasn't him, that it was Hermann... But it was Newt. It is totally him. ...Cool. Nice to know he's still the Grade A fuck-up he's always been.

He nods, trying not to hyperventilate, voice rising in tone and betraying him. "Pfft. Please. I wasn't making promises. What conversation were you having?" He pulls a face before it's swallowed in the insistent downturn of his mouth and Newt just gives up and leans his head against Hermann's shoulder with a sigh. Today has been a long day. A long, painful day, physically and emotionally. Part of him doesn't even want to wake up tomorrow. Just toss in the towel now. Which isn't right. One of them has to be the optimist in this relationship (who is he kidding, neither of them ever was) and it isn't Hermann. There's only room for one mental breakdown at a time and it's Hermann's right now and this is such a dumb reason for Newt to be ready to cry, but here they are.

"No, yeah, this was good. I needed that," he babbles into Hermann's shoulder. "I needed the reminder: good things come to those who wait, right? Yeah, we're waiting. This is good." He is too impulsive for this.

[mathemagier]

It's not him this time; the racing pulse and mounting anxiety. He feels lost, not sure where any of it is coming from and unable to muddle through the drift for the source. Newton's words contradict everything he can feel, and he doesn't know the first thing about where to begin addressing or assuaging any of it.

And frankly, he doesn't have the patience for it right now. He's exhausted and still has no idea whether or not they'll be safe tomorrow. The echoes of Newton's distress bleeding over tug at his heart and he pulls them tighter together.

"I just want this to last, Newton," he murmurs in turn; quieter, tired. "Think of it as an equation for maximizing that potential. Only three to nine more months."

And then assuming nothing catastrophic happened in that time, they'd be engaged.

[driftsintobuffetline]

He nods, even though he's not sure anymore that time is what they really need and he'd like to stop having to wait for a clock stop for his life to begin--but time is what they will get and hopefully somewhere in that time they'll find whatever it is they need (understanding, patience, themselves...who knew) to make this work.

Three-to-nine-months sounds like an eternity, but he will live. He has to. He wants to make this work, finally, after so many failed starts and stops. He wants Hermann to know he's serious--but why can't he just see that Newt means it? Why is he always a joke, a child? Why are they so compatible but so completely incompatible that this could just FAIL?? All he wants is to be somewhat assured Hermann won't leave, and to be with him for as long as time will allow. Why can't Newt just be a person who is easy to be with, to love?

Newt kisses at Hermann's collar, holds him a little longer, then pulls back. "You should eat. ...Your soup's got to be cold."

[mathemagier]

Hermann hums acknowledgement. He really should eat but all he'd really like to do is sleep. He'll need to set an alarm, and the thought is already unappealing.

Breathing a reluctant sigh, he eases himself off of Newton and hisses through the stab of pain that arcs through his hip and along his spine like another shock. This is a terrible position, and it's several agonizing moments later that he's finally settled properly back against the couch. He digs hard fingers into his hip in a futile effort to massage through the discomfort, and knows he'll need Newton to help him to bed.

He's a bit more awake now at least, and stares at his mug of soup with a frown. If only he possessed the ability to summon liquids. With a grunt of effort, Hermann leans over to draw it between his hands. It has gone cool, with only a bit of tepid warmth left, but he's not about to ask Newton to warm it up for him.

He stifles a yawn then swallows a mouthful of soup. "We'll need to choose a different country in the morning."

[driftsintobuffetline]

Newt feels a stab of guilt at the pain in his leg; what a selfish prick he is, making Hermann sit in such a way as to cause him so much discomfort. No wonder Hermann is second-guessing this. As Hermann settles back, he curls up against the man's side, head resting on his shoulder and arm across Hermann's lap. When Hermann isn't eating, his fingers dig into the knotted muscle, picking up the massage where Hermann left off.

He is going to be a shitty caregiver, but dammit, he just wants to spend his life with Hermann.

"Canada, like all good American-war deserters. Or we'll run to Mexico, like criminals do, right?" He shrugs. "You know, cross the border, avoid extradition--who DOES extradite in this world, not that I think they'll send us back. From there we might even be able to hop a plane, depending on the security screenings in this world. We could hack ourselves a ticket or two onto a flight somewhere really obscure? ...We could go to Germany, though I guess that's predictable for us."

[mathemagier]

It's a serious consideration, but Newton's overly complex thought process lightens the mood a bit. He leans back against Newton and lets him work for awhile before draining a bit more soup.

"Australia is positioned rather far from both American and Russian soil," he muses. "I doubt they've bothered to have any presence there. Of course, it would be more difficult to offer much in way of aid so remotely, but we can't afford to suffer through the shocks and there's no way to test--"

Hermann stops abruptly, and turns to stare at Newton. "Newton, I'd rather not have to ask this, but how would you feel about losing a finger for an experiment?"

His mind is suddenly a race of half-formed theories and ideas for slapdash tech to run in their limited window of time for a solution.

[driftsintobuffetline]

He thinks Australia is still a little too close to Antarctica, but his argument dies and he considers his hand, or more specifically, horrifically, his left-hand ring finger, before he says, "You know me, dude. Always game for science. So," he places the edge of his right hand over the farthest knuckle on his left-hand pinky, almost a cutting motion, then over the middle knuckle, and finally at the joint connecting the pinkie to his hand, "how big of a slice do you need?"

Of course, Newt wants to know why a severed finger is required, but he trusts Hermann. The why has no bearing on the question of if he is willing. Of course he is willing. It's science. It's Hermann. Why is simply his own curiosity. Hermann had a yes from the moment he breathed Newton's name.

[mathemagier]

Although he'd expected Newton's compliance, Hermann had also expected a request for an explanation. It doesn't come, and that trust is as sweet as it is disconcerting. But he supposes given his past protests against Newton's self-experimentation that his partner knows he wouldn't ask without a well-founded reason.

He turns the mug in his hands and considers his own fingers. Unfortunately, none of them are at all likely to grow back and if not for that key factor, he wouldn't even be considering this.

"Well, nanites are prevalent throughout our bodies, correct? LACKEY targets them, which in turn target the nervous system. If I can teleport disconnected organic material as an object, and if we could scrape together something to monitor the nerve endings in your severed finger within a few hours, then we could swiftly test the safety of any given set of coordinates."

All of that assuming they either work into the night, or awake very early in the morning. Likely better after some sleep.

"We already know the imPort cities are safe, and that Los Angeles (and theoretically anywhere else in America) is not. They could be our control sites to test both sets of readings before we experimented with other countries. It may not work, but it's better than porting to a random country and hoping for the best."

[driftsintobuffetline]

His love for Hermann almost stays his objections, which only continue to grow the more he thinks on the subject. It's about then that Newt wonders if they have a real problem on their hands--how has this relationship forever altered their very productive, very useful dynamic? Have they...actually become weaker by caring about each other's feelings? Have they become too cautious?

Or is it just him? In putting Hermann first, is he actually failing him? All he wants is for Hermann to like him this time around.

"Hermann, first of all, even if we can scrape together a device like that, which I'm not saying we can't--your power and our collective mechanical know-how means it's definitely possible, even if we end up scrapping the toaster for it, or something, but even if we can piece it together and launch the sucker, how are we going to determine if the punishment is, for some reason, NOT shocks? Or not shocks at SOME locations but shocks at others? Or randomly generated--lotteried, like a chore wheel...spin and see the punishment you get. If they can issue electrical impulses through the nanites, I don't doubt they could enforce other commands. Our device won't be able to monitor for everything, nor will the finger react to everything."

Which brought up a point that he feels Hermann hasn't bothered to consider, because to Hermann, this is more of a logic puzzle (which cities trigger spasms in the nerves and which do not--like playing Battleship) and to Newt, this has to be partly biology, because their object doing the testing is not going to be simply a machine. "I also don't know how long the nanites will survive outside of my system or how long before the blood drains from the finger and the nanites simply drain out. We don't know enough about them, yet, so if they even DO survive in my severed finger? they might not survive more than a couple of trips. So to make sure we still have active nanites to test with, I'd need to put them under a microscope and check after every trip, which means opening up the finger or even cutting off a new sample--which I'd do, but I'm not positive this is a viable option. I think it's a great idea, Hermann, and I hate to be the naysayer--"

But that's always been our roles to each other, keeping each other in check, keeping our science honest, he wants to say, in case Hermann's feelings are hurt because now that matters.

"But have you thought about the fact that, in addition to the issues with feasibility, you're sending, across the world, into unknown crowd situations, a potential bio-weapon and biological matter that could be used to create self-healing soldiers, if it falls into the wrong hands?"