A month of prompts centered around Pacific Rim as the in-universe timeline draws to a close. Coming to a tumblr near you in January 2025. [Event Survey] [Event Discord Server]
A tremendous thank you to everyone who participated in the event this January, it's been amazing to see how you all interpreted the prompt calendar and the works you created from it.
As a general note, the collection on Ao3 will remain open and this blog will continue to be monitored, so if you planned on participating this month and couldn't find the time, or if you're finding this for the first time, you can still feel free to use the prompts and post them to the collection/tag the blog!
There's a short post-event survey that just has some questions regarding your experience with the event/if you'd do something similar again (which you can fill out even if you didn't participate!)
As usual, here's a link to the event discord. Come and chat!
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The Prompt Calendar
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All posts are tagged in the style "[type of submission], [event name], [day of prompt], [characters], [ships]", so if you search for any of those tags, you'll get all the posts for that tag. But for quick searching:
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Newmann <- given a place here because it was by far the most popular
JĂ€germeister by theinternetisaweboflies <- a longer fic that got given its own tag for easy searching
Off the top of the mod's head (so some may have been missed), here are the most popular tags by character:
Hermann told him to stop an average of 14.9 times per day, but usually without so much desperation in his voice, unless Newt was taking apart the laboratory microwave again.
Newt stopped. He was about four steps from the edge of the Shatterdome helipad. Hermann was standing several meters behind him, one arm still outstretched.Â
Hermann liked Newt.
At least, Hermann had said that he liked Newt. They hadn't spoken much since then, what with Newt's jampacked sleep schedule. Then Newt expanded into sleepwalking, which didnât leave a lot of time for small talk, which was the only kind of talking they did these days. Hermann kept his questions limited to, âHow are you feeling?â and, âWhat do you need?â and, âWhy are you taking apart the hospital bed?âÂ
Newt still felt affection through their ghost drift, especially without a hive mind to block the signal, but that didnât make sense. Newt wasnât exactly a reliable narrator these days.
Death to the ego.
Death to the author?
Definitely death to something.
Anyway, most of what he felt from Hermann was relief, which did make sense. Newt was also relieved he hadnât destroyed the world. That would have been a pretty big bummer for everyone who just busted ass to save it.Â
Hermann might have said some things and returned some kisses, but he had obviously done so in order to collapse the Breach about to open in Newt's corpus callosum. It was just like their first drift, in that sense. Hermann didn't really have a choice.
Not to mention all the manual strangulation, which was kind of a deal breaker for most people.Â
Some things were just too good to be true. At least Newt got to taste it for a moment, like a dog with late-stage cancer, allowed to eat a Hersheyâs bar before its final vet appointment.
âNewton,â Hermann said again, one arm still outstretched, as if he was afraid to come any closer.
He probably was.Â
âI didn't come up here on purpose,â said Newt. âI was sleepwalking again."
He swiped a hand across his upper lip. A little more stubble than normal, but no blood. So he probably hadnât been on his way to reopen the Breach.
The Precursors were gone. The clicking was gone. The clock had stopped.
Sometimes, Newt could still feel them in the back of his mind. His neural pathways were all halls of mirrors, them looking at him, looking at them, looking at him. Then, just when Newt was about two seconds away from attempting auto-lobotomy, Hermann would remind him that the ghost drift was a thing. As if Newt didnât get to relive it all enough with nightmares alone.
The doctors pinky-swore that he was getting better. His fever had finally gone down, and he had been taken off antibiotics. The encephalitis was in complete remission. The nightmares were still pretty Kaska-esque, but the doctors insisted that was a symptom of garden-variety PTSD, which did add up. Listening to all that opera was bound to be traumatic.
This wasnât the first time Newt had gone for a little late-night sleepwalk. He was always so fucking scared, after waking up cold, or wet, or bleeding, that he had done something unforgivable, but every time he asked Tendo to pull the footage, it turned out he had just wandered into Pentecostâs old office and fallen into the basins again.Â
Eddie usually caught Newt before he could get that far, although he was now out on what he called paternity leave but Tendo said was just regular accrued vacation.
Lou and Dierdre had also been approved for vacation time. Newt was relieved of his security detail, now that the threat had apparently passed, and he wasn't about to argue. Newt may have ended up with more enemies than he would have ever expected, even during his Paranoid Phase, but he was still the one with the best access.Â
The PPDC was continuing operation on a trial basis as a Breach research facility, with renewed emphasis on funding for K-Science and education initiatives in both xenobiology and Breach physics. They were calling it the Pan Pacific Defense College. Newt was already having flashbacks.
Hermann tried to spend all his nights in the Medical Bay, but sometimes his hip simply wouldn't allow it.
It was a lot harder to be self-sacrificing when your drift partner could feel it too.Â
âPlease come here, Newton.â
Newt started across the icy helipad towards Hermann. Somehow, it was still January. Hail had fallen during the night, and then melted into something that looked like an amphibious egg mass.Â
âCareful!â Hermann grasped Newt by the elbow once he was in range. âYour ribs are still broken. If you slipped, you could puncture a lung. It was a miracle you didnât do so already with all that seizing.â
Hermann pulled off his parka and wrapped it around Newt. He had been doing that a lot lately. Newt wasnât complaining, especially not when his pajamas consisted of spare scrubs and a pair of those omnidirectionally-grippy hospital socks.Â
âYou look unwell,â said Hermann, as he began leading them back towards the Medical Bay.Â
âJust unwell-rested.â
âHow are you feeling?â
âLike we- I-â Newt cut himself off. Hermann had definitely noticed his newfound difficulty with singular pronouns, but he hadnât said anything about it, because that wouldnât be small talk.
Ontologically speaking, Newt was a bit of a dumpster fire.Â
Epistemological analysis ameliorated matters, but teleological analysis did the exact opposite. Newtâs greatest purpose these days was trying to decide if the risk of repossession outweighed the benefit of continued operation.
He tried not to think about it too hard in case Hermann was eavesdropping. An intervention was just a surprise party where the surprise was it wasnât a party, and Newt needed that like he needed another Breach in his head.Â
âLike you what?â Hermann asked encouragingly.Â
âLike I went another round with Aleksis. You know, I think he had a strange kind of respect for me after that. He definitely had a greater respect for Fenway Franks.â
âTry wariness.â Hermann scoffed. âI believe you managed to scare even the Kaidonovskys.â
âYeah, right.â Newt scoffed right back. âI couldnât scare a kaiju skin mite.â
âYou scare me.â There was a pause as pregnant as Eddieâs gecko, before Hermann punctured it with a grumble. âSpeaking of which, I thought Tendo was supposed to watch you tonight?â
âCome on, dude. We donât need a babysitter.â Newt winced. âI mean I. Donât worry. The Evil Think Tank is definitely over. There's just a little collateral brain damage.â
It was Hermannâs turn to wince, but all he said was, âYou told Tendo to leave, didnât you?â
âItâs their anniversary!â whined Newt. âI made them a card that said, âThrouple the love.ââ
Hermann winced some more, but now it was his normal, math-related wincing.Â
When they were together, it was a little like being stuck in a sensory feedback loop. Not like a hall of mirrors. More like⊠trying to take a pulse with your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. Overwhelming, but never unfamiliar.
Even when it was an objectively negative sensation on loop, it still felt better than being alone. That was the problem. Newt wanted to be around Hermann all the fucking time, and Hermann didnât deserve that.Â
It was still hard for Newt to think of himself as drift compatible with anyone, let alone Hermann, but they hadnât even considered compatibility before initiating their first drift.Â
Newt had briefly considered compatibility before initiating his drift with Mutavore, though it turned out to be a non-issue. You had to be compatible to drift with another human being. The hive mind got you with sheer numbers.
The hive mind was hard to describe in human terms, of any language, schadenfreude included. They were a species without empathy, sympathy, or compassion. They were pure, personified self-interest with the means to make it reality. Newt had despaired of humanity more times than probably even Hermann could count, but the Precursors actually made people look good.
They made it back to Newt's room in the Medical Bay, and Hermann helped him get settled into bed. Newt was about to say goodnight when Hermann pulled up his usual chair.Â
âYou donât have to stay.â
âSomeone has to keep you from sleepwalking into the Hong Kong Bay.â
Newt wouldnât have gone into the bay, because the roof of the Shatterdomeâs lower level was immediately below the helipads, but it was immediately below them by about twenty meters, so he knew better than to mention that.
âJust strap me to the bed again, dude.â
âIf you keep suggesting that, Iâm going to think you have a kink,â said Hermann.Â
When Newt had finished coughing, he croaked, âWell, it's either that or sharing the bed with meâŠ.âÂ
âI donât think itâs large enough, darling.â
Newt started coughing again. Hermann picked up the cup of water on his overbed table and handed it to him. It was a plastic travel cup with a lid and a straw, so it wouldnât spill, even when Newtâs hands shook so much it looked like he was trying to recreate Hermann's attempt at a high five. This was karma for threatening to make it their secret handshake.Â
The tremors were still bad enough that Newt had to use a special spoon so he wouldn't spill applesauce all over his government-subsidized sheets. Going to the bathroom required a lot more concentration. Secretly, Newt was relieved he couldn't get a good grip on anything.Â
âIâm sorry.â
âYou can hardly be blamed for your somnambulant perambulations,â said Hermann. âReally, I blame the medical st-â
âFor choking you.âÂ
The feedback loop echoed with cracking hearts, and Newt wondered how he could score a psychic connection to his crush and still always say the wrong thing.Â
It wasnât Murphyâs Law or even the British Gas Formula. It was just Occam's razor: The explanation requiring the fewest assumptions was most often correct, and the explanation requiring the fewest assumptions was most often that Newt had fucked up. Â
âYou can hardly be blamed for that either,â said Hermann.Â
âWe- They were still terraforming me,â Newt tried to explain. âMy brain is kind of an inhospitable environment, and they hadnât acclimated yet. They were so accustomed to the hive that they couldn't even conceive of autonomy. They've never gone into anything without backup, let alone a fight with two rangers, five nurses, and a repressed German mathematician. Also, they really hate you. Almost as much as they hate me.âÂ
âSnitches get stitches,â Hermann recited.Â
âAnd end up in ditches,â finished Newt. âYou shouldnât have done it.â
Hermann frowned. He was going to get so many wrinkles. Newt reached out and smoothed down the Wall of Life between his eyes.Â
âDrifted with the kaiju?â
âDrifted with me,â said Newt. âYou did it even after you knew I'd been⊠fucking infected or whatever. They could have gotten you too.â
âI had to try.â
âYou didn't!â Newt wasnât sure how his apology had turned into an argument, but at least it was familiar. At least it wasnât small talk. âYou shouldn't have! It was stupid and- and dangerous! Itâs still- Iâm still dangerous.â
âDonât be ridiculous, Newton. You're not going to suddenly grow a bile sac or something.â
âDonât be ridiculous, Hermann. That would be cool as hell,â said Newt, âand you know what? You donât know anything. Thatâs the point. No one does. This is a whole new field of study. Anything could happen.â
âNewton-â
âThey could come back.â
âThey could come back,â Hermann agreed. âThe Breach could reopen. Sometimes, we must live with uncertainty.â
âYou musnât- needn't must- Man, I hate how much I care about grammar now.âÂ
âWhat are you trying to say, Newton?â
âThe war is over. The clock stopped. Iâm not your problem anymore.âÂ
Hermann sighed. It wasnât his usual sigh, exasperated and loud enough for Newt to hear from across the lab, so he would know it was entirely his fault. It was a small, soft expression of pure exhaustion.Â
âI have seen other worlds,â he said, âbut I cannot conceive of one in which you would not be my problem. Nor would I wish to inhabit such a world.â Hermann hesitated, but only for a moment. âBefore we drifted, you asked me if I would do that for you.â
âWith me,â Newt corrected, more out of habit than anything.Â
âI would do anything for you,â said Hermann. âI love you, Newton. I know youâre having trouble accepting that. You can take your time. We have time. For now, I just need you to do one thing for me: I need you to believe that itâs true. I promise you it is.â
Newt licked his lips and tasted salt but told himself it was just another nosebleed. âI thought promises were lies.âÂ
âNot between drift partners.â
âPolitics and poetry?â
âStill lies,â said Hermann. "Especially politics.â
He had filled Newt in on the finer details of what happened during his abduction(s). Newt wasn't particularly surprised. The military industrial complex was really quite simple. At least Secretary Krieger had sold out Trump.Â
"I don't actually mind some of your poetry," added Hermann.
"Those are rock songs."
"Of course, dear."
âI love you,â said Newt. He still couldnât bring himself to add âtoo,â even though he believed Hermann. Of course he did; Hermann had been the voice of reason in Newtâs head since long before their drift.Â
âMay I take you out?â
âLike a hitman, or like-â
âOh, hush, darling.â Hermann entangled Newtâs unbroken fingers in his own. âPerhaps we can even take a trip once youâre well enough. Weâre both long overdue for a vacation. We can go anywhere you like. Even that ridiculous Godzilla theme park.â
âThat sounds expensive.â
âIâve recently come into some money.â Hermannâs smile turned secretive, even though Newt knew all his secrets now. It turned out most of them were about him.Â
Newt felt like his fever was coming back, but he was pretty sure it was just a full-body blush. âWell, if you insistâŠâ
âMay I kiss you?â
Newt nodded, unable to trust his voice anymore. Hermann moved from his chair to the edge of Newtâs bed. He curled one hand around the back of Newtâs neck and drew him in for a kiss that was somehow both gentle and very thorough. Newt made a noise, relegated to the back of his throat, since his mouth was otherwise occupied. It must have sounded a little bit too desperate, because Hermann moved his attention to Newtâs jaw.Â
When Newt had caught his breath, he said, âI think the bedâs big enough.â
Hermann huffed a laugh against Newtâs throat, but he still toed off his shoes. Newt made room, fluffing up the pillows that were stacked three high to help him breathe easier.Â
Hermann lay on his right side, in order to take the pressure off his bad leg. Newt lay on his left side, in order to take the pressure off the worst of his ribs. This left them facing each other, and suddenly the bed seemed much smaller. Then Hermann kissed him again, and the bed couldn't be small enough.
When the kiss ended, Newt slid a leg between Hermann's knees in place of his usual orthopedic pillow. He had to shuffle down the bed a little bit to avoid any contact that might be considered an HR violation, and his head ended up tucked under Hermann's chin. Newt could smell the mixture of mothballs and lavender from the cardigan Hermann had on over his pajamas.Â
Maybe it was just the lavender, but Newt felt himself starting to drift away almost immediately.Â
âThank you, Newton,â Hermann murmured into his hair.Â
Newt shivered at the sensation, coming back from the brink long enough to ask, âWhat for? You were the rockstar. I just sat there and drooled on myself.â
âYou survived,â said Hermann, in that voice-of-reason of his, and Newt had always known that it took more courage to live than it did to die, but for once, he felt like he might have enough. After all, he would do anything for Hermann too.
In truth, he had been there the whole time. Jaegers could not be piloted if the drift was all-consuming. However, over the years of âco-labitation,â as Newton insisted on referring to it, Hermann had developed a near impervious state of hyperfocus out of sheer necessity. He had been only vaguely aware of their physical location until Newtonâs hand slipped from his own.
He was seizing again.
Seizures could occur while someone was in a comatose state, but their sole manifestation was abnormal patterns of neural activity registered by the electroencephalogram. Newtonâs EEG did spike and dip dramatically, but it moved in time with his body, as if mapping its spasms.Â
Hermann sat, helpless, as the doctors administered intravenous benzodiazepine and nifedipine Newtonâs absence seizure had not required an anticonvulsant, but the doctors at the Four Seasons had administered nifedipine to prevent hypoxia. Deficient cerebral oxygenation was less common with absence seizures than tonic-clonic ones, but if it occurred for even a moment, let alone three hours, it could cause permanent brain damage. That would be devastating for anyone. For someone like NewtonâŠ
Hermann felt his own mind go blank when the EEG suddenly registered suppression of all neural activity.
Lou flicked his ear.Â
âPostictal phase,â they said. âItâs almost over. My old man may not be on dialysis yet, but his kidneys have taken him for a couple of these rides.â
They were correct. The EEG normalized. The muscular contractions decreased in frequency and then amplitude.Â
When Newtonâs body finally stilled, it was wheeled away for more imaging. The CAT, MRI, and PET scans that it took to convince Dr. Lightcap only confirmed what Hermann already knew: The swelling in Newtonâs brain had finally gone down.Â
He didnât even have a nosebleed.
The Precursors were gone.Â
Their sudden absence was almost as idiopathic as their initial presence, but whether they had actually been defeated by the power of love, or simply cried uncle at too much PDA, the truth was palpable. Hermann could feel the difference.Â
He could feel Newton.Â
Even in a comatose state, Newton was being terrorized by his own mind, reality merging with nightmares. Hermann poured more care and comfort than he would have ever considered himself capable of through their bond, and it flowed as if by Bernoulliâs principle, all high speed and low pressure. It felt almost as if they had their own little hive mind of two.
Hermann had originally been disappointed, but unsurprised when his ghost drift with Newton was little more than a wisp. After all, they had only drifted once, and the presence of the hive mind had been an unprecedented impediment.Â
What Hermann had not realized until now was that the hive mind could continue to impede their drift even after it was over.Â
Except it had never really been over for Newton. He had been in some sort of continuity with the hive mind, ostensibly since his first drift. The subsequent drifts may have expedited the process, but with enough time, the hive mind would have invariably taken control. Newton had been so terribly outnumbered.Â
They would have commandeered his body, but not until after they had acclimated to it, which would have most likely facilitated the process of assimilation. In theory, Hermann might not have even noticed as Newton turned into something else.
Dr. Lightcap insisted on waiting another twenty-four hours to monitor the encephalitis before removing Newton from his medically-induced coma. Hermann passed those hours in the chair by his bedside, hip be damned.
He wanted to initiate another drift, if only to assure himself Newton was finally free of the hive mind, but Hermann knew that wish was a selfish one.Â
What Newton needed now more than anything was rest. He was suffering from extreme exhaustion, malnourishment, and an ever increasing collection of injuries. In addition to his ribs, which had been upgraded from cracked to fractured, Newton had a concussion, a fractured intermediate phalange, and severe lacerations on both wrists, one of which was still sprained from when he hit the car.Â
Security was on standby when Newton awoke, just in case. Lou and Dierdre flanked Hermannâs chair, which was still placed beside the bed to prevent any potential symptoms of drift withdrawal. Mako, Raleigh, Tendo, and Marshal Hansen stood further back, allowing the medical personnel room to work.Â
When the anesthesia in Newtonâs system had ebbed enough to no longer inhibit respiration, his intubation tube was removed. Hermann gagged in sympathy as he felt its foreign slide through the ghost drift.
At long last, Newton opened his eyes, still red around the sclera.Â
He immediately burst into tears.Â
Hermann moved without thinking. He sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around Newtonâs body, mindful of his fractured ribs. He held Newton as if he was handling fine china or the rarest of specimens.Â
Newton hid his face in the crook of Hermann's neck. He began to make an almost animalistic keening noise, but cut himself off so abruptly that Hermann was momentarily concerned for his tongue.Â
He could feel the rawness of Newtonâs nerves, like exposed wires, each spark uniquely charged. Fear. Confusion. Pain. Even misplaced guilt over the bruising on Hermann's neck that had already faded to green.Â
Hermann tried to ground him, but after what seemed like mere seconds, the doctors had swarmed the bed, and he was removed from Newtonâs side with clinical precision.Â
He returned to his chair while they measured pupil dilation and asked simple questions. When they got to the one about the current U.S. President, Newtonâs answer consisted entirely of curse words, which was accepted as confutation of any significant brain damage.Â
Eventually, the doctors retreated to input data and pat each other on the back. Newton had stopped crying, but he was still shaking slightly, a fine tremor running through his body like an aftershock of the seizure.Â
Hermann removed his parka and draped it around Newtonâs shoulders before resuming his seat on the edge of the bed.Â
âAre you alright?â asked Mako.Â
âZe- Zettai daijĆbu dayo, Mako-chan,â said Newton, in a voice like a cat being put down a garbage disposal unit.Â
âOh, no, heâs still possessed,â said Tendo. âHeâs speaking in tongues.â
Mako elbowed him.Â
âAre you okay, Lou?â asked Newton. âAfter the crash, you- did you need surgery?â
Lou shot Hermann a look before replying. âOh, that? I just realized life was short and I should finally get that bottom surgery I always wanted: Smooth, like Barbie.â
âTheyâre lyinâ,â said Eddie the medic, from somewhere near the back of the small crowd now gathered around Newtonâs bed. âThey just needed some glass tweezed out of their arm. Thatâs only, like, nominally surgical.â
Hermann could feel Newtonâs limited energy reserves already start to flag. He wanted to tell the others to leave, to let Newton get the rest he so desperately required, but he could also feel the nascent thrum of relief their presence provided. He would allow them a moment more.Â
âOnly I get to know whatâs going on in Louâs pants,â Dierdre was saying. âAlthough we were thinking about inviting Allison from munitions.â
âHey,â said Tendo. âWhat about me and Paul?â
Deirdre shrugged. âYou can come along. Weâll turn the Shatterdome into the worldâs biggest, most dysfunctional polycule before it gets shut down. Really go out with a bang.â
âI think Newt might have us beat when it comes to dysfunctional polycules,â said Tendo. âNo? Too soon?â
âToo soon,â Hermann confirmed.Â
âHey, Tendo?âÂ
âYeah, Newt?â Tendo dropped a hand onto his shoulder, and Newton only flinched a little.
âNewt Oji-chan is fighting the hive mind with the power of love?â asked Mako, after Hermann had succinctly summarized the drift, if one did not count all the stuttering.Â
He knew what Mako was thinking about. He had joined her and Newton for a couple of those magical girl cartoons, out of pure scientific curiosity, of course. Â
Hermann preferred Revolutionary Girl Utena, himself.Â
âSo it would seem.âÂ
Marshal Hansen crossed his arms. âSo the logical next step would beâŠâ
âDrift sex,â said Tendo.Â
â...Not what I was going to suggest.â
âNo?â Tendoâs eyebrows performed a theatrical leap. âDarn. I've always been curious about that. My theory? It's over super quick. I'm talking: One Mississippi. Anyway, I guess that only leaves one option.â
âOh?â managed Hermann.Â
âIt's time to win your bet, brother.â
âOh.â
Mako-chan had the gall to grin at him. âOnce more unto the breach, Hermann Oji-chan.â
A number of respected medical and scientific professionals were gathered in the Hong Kong Shatterdome's Medical Bay to watch Hermann confess his feelings.Â
Hermann had lived most of his life by the rules of propriety, having been taught them at a young age and with little opportunity for independent experimentation. His difficulty replicating and reading social cues had left him feeling deficient in some way, until he met Newton, who could read dense scientific treatises, but could not read a room.Â
Newton must have been a terrible influence on him, for Hermann could not bring himself to give a fuck about the crowd gathered around them.Â
Hermann was seated in a chair next to Newtonâs bed. A medic placed the squid cap on his head, and he resisted the urge to adjust it. Instead, he took Newtonâs hand in his own.Â
Dr. Lightcap clipped her hair back, its gold now shot with streaks of silver, and the room went silent.Â
She counted them down. âThree⊠two⊠one.â
Hermann heard it simultaneously in Cantonese, like a bad bootleg dub. Then he was drifting with the hive mind once again, which was so overwhelming that it took him a moment to remember Newton was meant to be there too.Â
The reel of memories was jerky and awkwardly spliced together this time. Newton, getting his first tattoo, surprised by how little it hurt. Newton, using cold water to clean the blood out of his shirt because hot water would denature the proteins and make it adhere to the fabric. Newton, taking a scalpel to his own wrists.
Bugs wasnât around. Instead, there was a nightmarish rabbit with twisted ears that Hermann could glean just enough from the drift to know was named Frank.Â
âWhy are you wearing that stupid man suit?" asked Frank.
Hermann said nothing and followed the music until he was back in the theater. Monica Schwartz ignored him once more as he made his way backstage and on to the Hermann Cave.Â
Newton was curled into a ball on the floor, but he looked up when Hermann barged in, huffing and puffing out of pure expectation.Â
âYou sure are getting around, Ghost Hermann.â
âThis isnât the ghost drift, Newton,â said Hermann, as soon as he had caught his psychosomatic breath. âI am actively drifting with you. I was doing so the last time as well.â
Newton froze so completely that, for a moment, Hermann thought he was being pulled from the drift again. Â
Then Newtonâs mouth fell open, but for the first time in their not insignificant shared history, he seemed to be at a complete loss for words.
Hermann powered through the silence. âI truly am here to save you, though I do not know quite how to do it.â
Newton let out an unexpected burst of laughter. âHave you tried unplugging it and plugging it back in?â
âStop it.â
âCome on,â said Newton. âWe saved the world. You win some; you lose some.â
âNot you,â Hermann did not so much say as intone.Â
That seemed to stump him.
Hermann was not faring much better. This was infinitely harder than infinitesimal calculus. âNewton, you must be aware of my feelings for you?â
â⊠Irritation?âÂ
âYou bloody idiot,â said Hermann. âSurely you felt it in the drift? I certainly felt your affection, although I did not perhaps understand the ah, extent of it until rather recently.â
Newton winced, but that might have been due to the rising tempo of the hive mindâs tumult.Â
Hermann tried to find somewhere to look that wasnât Newton or a wall covered with pictures of his own face.Â
Oh, or the ceiling.
Hermann settled on his knees.
âYour feelings are reciprocated, if thatâs what youâre concerned about,â he told his knees. âI've been in love with you for most of my life.â
At first, Newton did not move, and Hermann once again grew concerned that they were falling out of alignment.Â
Then he started crying.Â
Hermann wondered if he could have possibly misinterpreted the Hermann Cave.Â
âNewt-â
âOkay, Boomer,â said Newton, and it was such a staple of their arguments that Hermann felt a sudden surge of Schrödingerâs nostalgia for something that was not yet necessarily lost.Â
âDon't call me that,â he recited. âI am only one year older than you, for heaven's-âÂ
âEnough Tomfuckery.â Newton was still talking. âWe- I admire your ambition, Allegedly Real Hermann, but it's not going to work.â
âAre you questioning my feelings?â Hermann interrupted Newton this time, perversely delighted to be arguing with him again. âBecause regardless of your, no doubt compensatory, number of doctorates, I assure you I am the leading expert when it comes to my own mind. Now, you had bloody well better believe me, foremost because I am telling you the truth, but also because it is the only weapon we have to wield against the Precursors. I do not care how many worlds they have conquered. I will not allow them to take mine.â
Newton grabbed Hermann by the lapels as though he was going to throw him out of his own cave.Â
Instead, he went up on his toes and kissed Hermann directly on the mouth. It was chaste and very short, but despite the absence of cliched electricity, it still managed to completely rewire Hermann's brain.Â
When Newton attempted to pull away, Hermann reeled him back in by his ridiculously thin necktie and kissed him once more.Â
Newton froze again, and Hermann wondered if perhaps it had been a little too soon for tongue.Â
âDear?â
âOh,â said Newton, and then Hermann could feel it too.
The Precursors truly did hate love. He had never felt such roiling fury, not even in the wake of Operation Pitfall. Somehow, to the hive mind, this was personal.Â
@lastdaysofwar, Day 30: Last Man Standing (Mako Mori, Raleigh Becket, Hermann Gottlieb/Newton Geiszler)
Raleigh is alive. Alive and breathing, and so is the rest of the world. The world has survived. Theyâve saved it.
Mako can hardly process the truth of this, when so many people she cares for are gone. People who have become her family, these last few years. And others she could have loved if sheâd had the chance to know them better.
Sheâs left orphanedâfatherlessâfor the second time in her life. And she nearly breaks down at the thought that, if Jake had finished his training and become a ranger, she almost certainly would have lost her brother, too. For the first time, sheâs happy to think of him bumming around somewhere in California, a petty criminal who wonât take her calls.
Sheâll have to find a way to tell him that his father is gone.
But for now, Raleigh is here, almost a tangible presence in her mind, as good as telling her he isnât going anywhere. And when the medics insist on loading him onto a stretcher and wheeling him down to medical, she goes right along with him, because no one here would dream of separating drift partners at a time like this.
Heâs a little out of it just now, giddy with the thrill of a victory no one was sure they could pull off. Mako is not much better, herself. Nothing around her feels quite real, and she has the strangest feeling sheâs going to wake up in her bunk any minute now, and that sheâll still be a J-tech supervisor with a refurbishment project sheâs scrambling to finish before the next opening of the breach. Not a ranger. Not one of the last surviving rangers, surely.
âNewton Geiszler, if you would only just once listen to meâ!â Dr. Gottliebâs voice rings out as the medical entourage nears their destination. That much feels real; Dr. Gottlieb is always shouting, and usually at Newt, but thereâs something odd about it now. Every other word comes out muffled, like something keeps pressing over his face.
As they wheel the stretcher through the door, Mako sees why. Her two dear scientist friends are pressed up against the wall, waiting to be seen by a doctor, if their appearance is any indication. They both look every bit as battered as Mako feels, and she doubts either one of them would be standing if they werenât supporting each other. They are also simultaneously arguing and furiouslyâthere is no other word for itâsnogging.
âOh!â Raleigh yelps. âTheyâre eating each otherâs faces!â
Mako smiles. Itâs about time.
âShut up, Herm-mmmmmâŠâ Newt becomes unintelligible for a moment before he pulls back enough to say, âIâm not doing jack shit unless you come with me!â
âYou nearly died, you vile man! If anything happens to you now, Iâll never forgive you!â
âYou drifted, too!â Newt yells. Then he notices the group rolling by, and pokes Hermann in the shoulder to get his attention.
âOh! Mako, dear girl, magnificent work out there,â Hermann says, beaming.
âYeah, great job, Mako,â Newt agrees. âYouâre a hero! And you too, Guy.â He turns his attention back to Hermann. âYou are going in there with me, youâre getting checked out, youâre getting taken care of, and then youâre going toâŠâ The rest of what he wants to say is lost as Hermann kisses him again.
âItâs like walking in on your parents,â Raleigh says faintly as they leave the scientists behind.
âYou donât even know them,â Mako points out.
âI donât, you do. Itâs like walking in on your parents. Somehow, thatâs even worse.â
Mako takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. Heâll have to get to know her scientists before much longer. They are not like parents to her, but they are family, and now Raleigh is, too. Theyâre in this together, no matter what.
Raleigh squeezes her hand too, giving back what sheâs giving him: the unspoken promise that neither of them will ever be alone again.
The world goes on, and this is the beginning of the rest of their lives. And theyâll see it through together.
@lastdaysofwar, Day 28: Politics (Hermann Gottlieb/Newton Geiszler)
The thrilling conclusion to Groundhog Day and Commitment. It technically fits the prompt!
âOkay, but seriously,â Newton says, once theyâre both completely sated and could not possibly move another muscle if the building was falling down around them. âDo you want to take my name?â
âIâm not baiting you, dude. I mean, unlessââ
âNo smutty jokes.â
âOkayyyyyy,â Newton groans. âI just really like the idea of making you a Geiszler, you know? And it would make my dad happy, and your dad would be so pissed off. It would be a real slap in the face, disassociating yourself from him like that. He couldnât take credit for your amazingness if you werenât even a Gottlieb anymore.â
âMm-hmmâŠâ Hermann nuzzles closer, to feel the vibrations through Newtonâs chest as he speaks.
âOf course, changing your name might cause you some problems in academia, like, nothing insurmountable, but it would be annoying. You deserve not to be inconvenienced, by anything. Besides, everyone associates the name Gottlieb with you now. You could live your life as a reminder of his continued irrelevance.â
âMm, yes.â Very satisfying. Lars Gottlieb could be remembered in all the history books as the father of noted physicist Hermann Gottlieb. He rather likes that.
âHey, and? Imagine if I took your name and then the other most famous Gottlieb on earth was a biologist. Ooh, heâd hate that!â
âYouâre giving my father a lot of consideration here.â
âYeah, well, heâs given you a lot of grief.â Newton runs his fingers through Hermannâs hair, humming softly to himself for a moment or two before he gets back to chatteringâand how he has the energy to talk so much, Hermann will never know. âIf we did decide to hyphenate, and I know youâre not sold on it but if we did, weâd kinda have the best of both worlds, you know? Or if we wanted to get really nontraditional we could mash them up. Geiszlieb? Gottszler? What do you think?â
âPerfect,â Hermann murmurs sleepily.
âDude, youâre not even listening to me.â
âI am. Mâenjoying the sound of your voice.â
âHa! Liar, why would you?â Newton scoffs.
Hermann could quite honestly say that he has never heard another voice like Newtonâs, and that its unusual timbre makes it stick in the mind, or that his utter lack of control over his pitch and volume are signifiers of the passion Hermann so admires in him, or even that, musically speaking, a perceived discordance may still be aesthetically pleasing in the right circumstances. But heâs really very tired, so he simply gives the truest reason of all.
âBecause itâs yours.â And how could he not love anything of Newtâs?
âYouâdork!â Newton squeaks. âI love you.â
âMm. Love you, too. Keep talking.â He closes his eyes. If Newton doesnât expect any intelligible responses, his running commentary will be enough to lull Hermann to sleep, and at the moment, he canât think of anything nicer.
âOkay, babe. Iâll take that bullet. But only for you,â Newton says. His fingers stray through Hermannâs hair again. âYou know what we could do? We could hyphenate, but we could each have it in a different order so we wouldnât have to argue about which comes first. And then I could run for president. Iâm old enough now, and Iâm totally famous, so, weirder things have happened. Iâll make you my running mate, and then we can run on a Geiszler-Gottlieb-Gottlieb-Geiszler ticket. You think weâd take the popular vote?â
âOf courseâŠâ
âDamn, I should wear you out more often! I can say whatever I want and you just agree with me? Hey, sleepy guy, is it okay if I bring a couple of tiny little experiments home from work? Youâll hardly even notice them.â
âDonât push it,â Hermann says.
âThatâs, âDonât push it, Mr. President.ââ
âMm-hmmâŠâ He could argue, and he certainly will if any biological specimens make their way into their apartment. But for now, he is simply too blissfully content to make the effort. All he can do is lie there, drifting off with his future husbandâs voice in his ears.
hope you're alright now!! and thank you so much for doing this!! â€ïž
You're most welcome!! I'm glad that you're all enjoying this little passion project of mine.
The loss of power and internet was as bad as things got, fortunately. Unless you're the fence outside my house, which was the only casualty we had. RIP fence, you gave two decades of dedicated service.
Apologies for the few days of delay in getting the recent posts reblogged! I've only just regained power and internet after a storm took them out. Back on track now.
âOf course it wasn't,â said Hermann. His voice was rough, but not from being choked. Newton had barely started to squeeze before he was restrained by medical staff. âHe didn't speak.â
They were on the flight back to the Hong Kong Shatterdome, Newton sedated and restrained to a gurney only a meter away.Â
By the time they reached the Shatterdome, the Four Seasons Hangzhou had forwarded the results of Newtonâs MRI. All those top-dollar doctors, and all they were able to discern conclusively was that the swelling in his brain had become so severe that it was pressing up against his skull.Â
Newton was placed in a medically-induced coma until the encephalitis could regress. The doctors administered anesthesia, monitoring his brain activity via EEG until it reached the target level. The anesthetic suppressed his respiratory drive, so he also had to be intubated.
They all took shifts watching over him, even though he had a dedicated medic with him at all times. Marshal Hansen himself took the first shift, after ordering them all to take naps, or at least showers. Hermann took the second shift after doing neither. Tendo supplied the coffee.Â
A day passed, and the swelling did not go down.
Eddie the medic attempted to distract them all with photographs of his gravid gecko in her nesting box. He had decorated it with a miniature banner that read, âItâs a gecko!â
Another day passed, and the swelling did not go down.Â
Dr. Lightcap came out of retirement to consult, and while Hermann had once been accused of going âfull fangirlâ by Newton when they heard her speak at a conference in 2021, he now found himself unjustly frustrated with her for not having any answers either.Â
Another day passed, and the swelling did not go down.Â
Dr. Lightcap recommended a controlled drift.Â
It was theoretically possible to establish a neural link despite the anesthesia, though it had never been attempted before. Many medically-induced coma patients reported vivid dreams, interpreting their surroundings through a surreal filter. Some believed they were taking part in the conversations carried on over their head. Others experienced the application of ice packs as nightmares about going down with the Titanic.Â
At first, Hermann was vehemently opposed to Dr. Lightcapâs recommended treatment. It seemed too much like what had been done to Newton in captivity, but he knew that was not entirely accurate. They would not be forcing Newton to drift with a kaiju. They would be forcing him to drift with Hermann.Â
It was with some trepidation that Hermann donned the squid cap and listened to Dr. Lightcap count down from three.Â
The hive mind felt almost omnipresent. Everything shone with the heat shimmer of an orange sun, dark at the center, like the theoretical âdark starâ of Newtonian mechanics. Everything echoed with their clicking, like a million ticking War Clocks. Everything hissed.Â
Newtonâs presence in his own mind was little more than a whisper, but Hermann followed that whisper as though it was played by Pied Piper.Â
He saw more of Newtonâs memories. Getting all As. Getting a few Bs on purpose to fit in better. Getting nearly waterboarded, by several boys significantly his senior, in an MIT toilet stall, if the graffiti on the door was anything to go by. Hermann hadnât even known âswirliesâ existed in real life, let alone at a private institute of higher learning, even if it was American.Â
Then he saw a rabbit.
Hermann did not see a Random Access Brain Impulse Trigger.Â
He saw Bugs Bunny.
âWhatâs up, Doc?â asked Bugs, a carrot sticking out of his mouth like it was a stogie.Â
âI beg your pardon?â asked Hermann, more out of habit than anything else.Â
Bugs Bunny suddenly cocked his head to the side, one ear perfectly erect.Â
Hermann could hear something too, just the barest strains of music rising over all the clicking and hissing. It was Wagner. A piece from Die WalkĂŒre.
Bugs Bunny turned and started to follow the music.
So Hermann followed the rabbit.Â
Bugs ducked into a bulkhead style corridor that twisted, turned, and forked before letting out into a theater. It was a gorgeous auditorium, with a proscenium stage, red velvet curtains, and a grand chandelier. The seats were all empty, but a woman was performing onstage.Â
Hermann recognized her as Newtonâs mother, Monica Schwartz. Her photograph had been easier to come by than Newtonâs own when their correspondence first started. She looked too beautiful to be fully real, and Hermann knew that was because Newton remembered her primarily from photographs as well.Â
Her voice was equally beautiful, but there was a very insistent part of Hermann that hated it with an intense and fiery passion.Â
Bugs Bunny began applauding loudly even though the piece was nowhere near completion. When Hermann turned to look at him, Bugs shrugged and said, "Well, what did you expect in an opera? A happy ending?"
Then he played dead, performing a teetering twirl on the spot before falling over in full rictus. When Hermann continued to stare at him, Bugs cracked open one eye, and pointed an ear towards the stage. âI think BrĂŒnnhilde is up there. Watch out for the flames though. This whole place is burning.â
Even Hermann could follow a cue so overt. He climbed the steps onto the stage, where he was thoroughly ignored by Monica Schwartz. The backstage led to another bulkhead passage, this time with only one egress.Â
Hermann emerged in a small room. It was sparsely furnished, but heavily decorated. The walls were covered with photographs, documents, and handwritten notes, all connected by red string tied around push pins like some sort of particularly intricate spiderâs web.Â
The photographs were all of Hermann. The documents were his academic papers. The handwritten notes were unmistakably his correspondence with Newton.
Newton was in the middle of it all, standing on both a chair and the tips of his toes to add more string. A row of pushpins was held between his pursed lips and he was humming, more or less along with the Wagner, but at twice its actual tempo.Â
âNewton!âÂ
He startled, spitting pins and nearly falling off his chair.Â
âChrist on a cock, Hermann! What are you doing here?â
âI'm here to save you,â said Hermann, like a complete prat.
Newton rolled his eyes, which were not shot with blood the way they were in the real world. Hermann wondered if he even knew how badly he had been hurt.
âThat'sâŠ. great. The NPCs have developed free will, and I have apparently developed a damsel-in-distress complex. I appreciate the initiative, Ghost Hermann. I really do, but I don't think you can do anything I can do better. I'm supposed to be in charge here, at least if you listen to the Existentialists. Although I don't think either one of us likes them.â
Hermann had tuned out, more or less on instinct, after âNPC,â but he got the gist. Newton thought he was a figment of his imagination. Hermann might have corrected this misapprehension if he wasnât so distracted by the decor.
âWhat is this place?â
Newton winced. âWow, this is just as humiliating as I always imagined, even though neither of us is a real boy. Still, I guess it beats talking to myself. I do a pretty good Hermann, if I don't mind me saying so.â
âSo, this isâŠâ Hermann knew there were more important topics of conversation, but it was difficult to focus on anything else when he was looking at a photograph of himself offering Mako-chan his fifth attempt at omurice, complete with a crooked ketchup smile drawn on top to match his own.Â
Hermann was reasonably certain no such photograph existed in the real world. Newton had attempted to take one, but Hermann had confiscated his phone in protest. Apparently, he had captured it in his memory instead.Â
Newton referred to his memory as âsemi-eidetic,â but Hermann had always argued that âselectively-eideticâ would be more apt.Â
Apparently, he had selected Hermann.Â
Repeatedly.Â
There were photographs of Hermann writing on his chalkboards, drinking JĂ€germeister, arguing. There was a photograph of the day they met, before it all went wrong. There was another one of the day they drifted, before it all went wrong again.Â
âThis is the Hermann Cave! The real you wouldn't get that, so pretend you don't, for authenticityâs sake.â
Hermann didn't have to pretend.Â
âI made this room to hide from the Precursors. I mean, sure, technically they know exactly where to find me, but they don't like coming here. Itâs not even because of Momâ Sheâs just the perimeter guard. I mean, donât get me wrong, they hate opera, but it turns out there's something they hate even more.â
âOh?âÂ
âLove,â said Newton. âThey hate love! Theyâre not even homophobic. They hate all love equally. See I've got sections for Dad, Uncle Illia, Mako-chan, and the Frog Formerly Known as Prince, may he rest in peace. So sure, Hermann Cave is technically a misnomer, but itâs also hilarious.â
Surely enough, the pictures on the wall did seem to include several photos of Mako by herself, Jacob and Illia Geiszler, and an African Dwarf Frog.Â
âThey really hate the romantic kind though,â Newton was saying, âand they really, really hate the sappy, song-writing, decades-of-pining kind I've got for you. Iâve been trying to figure out exactly why love is such an anathema for the Precursors. My working hypothesis is that they canât comprehend sacrifice for something thatâs not a part of themselves. Donât quote me on that though. It might just be like Kryptonite.â
âOh,â said Hermann. âOh.â
Before he could say anything else, he was forcibly ejected from the drift. Everything seemed to freeze, like a lagging computer, and then he was back in the Medical Bay of the Hong Kong Shatterdome, surrounded by anxious faces.Â
âYour heart-rate spiked,â said Tendo. âLike, a lot.â
It took Hermann a moment to catch his breath, and even then, all he could manage to say was, âYes, I imagine it did.â
@lastdaysofwar, Day 23: Heart (Hermann Gottlieb, Mako Mori, Jake Pentecost)
A day late and only kind of loosely inspired by the prompt, woo!
The first time Hermann Gottlieb meets Mako Mori, heâs just lost his temper and is bellowing in the most undignified manner imaginable at the lab assistant whose clumsiness has just erased two weeksâ worth of calculations.
Hermann does not normally behave this wayâhe is a very reasonable person! He has always kept careful control over his temper! But the stress is getting to him, and his assistantâs mistake is unforgivable when lives are on the line.
But when he turns from berating young Mr. Connor to find a little girl in the doorway, looking absolutely terrified that he might turn his anger on her next, he does regret having allowed himself to lose control to such a degree.
âYouâre going to find a way to avoid mistakes like this in the future,â Hermann tells his assistant, making an extreme effort to speak calmly.
âYes, sir! Iâm sorry, Dr. Gottlieb, it wonât happen again,â Connor babbles, but Hermann has already turned his attention to the child.
âHello,â he says.
The girlâs eyes grow quite large, but she makes no other response. Hermann hopes she speaks English. With the Shatterdomeâs multinational population, he shouldnât have any trouble finding someone to translate if necessary, but he would prefer to speak to her himself, despite his lack of experience with children. He deeply regrets having frightened her.
âDo you need help, young lady?â Hermann asks as he makes his way toward her. He supposes he ought to crouch down to put himself at eye level, but thatâs rather difficult, so he merely hopes to appear as nonthreatening as possible.
âIâŠl-lostâŠâ the girl whispers breathlessly. Hermann tentatively identifies her accent as Japanese, a language he canât speak beyond a few pleasantriesâhello, thank you, excuse me. Nothing useful here.
âAre you lost?â he asks as gently as he can.
âNoâI lost my brother!â
âAh, that is a dilemma.â He glances behind him; his colleagues scurry to look busy at the first sign of his attention. Theyâll be all right without him for a few minutes. In fact, they might benefit from a chance to calm down. âMay I help you find him?â Hermann offers. The girl brightens.
âWould you help, really? Thank you so much!â
âOf course I will, my dear.â He finds himself completely unable to resist her smile. âI do apologize for all the shouting. Iâm Dr. Gottlieb, of the K-science division. Are you new here?â
âYes, Doctor. My name is Mako Mori. I am very pleased to meet you.â She speaks carefully, but without too much difficulty. Heâs relieved to decide that he wonât be needing a translator after all.
âAll right, Miss Mori. Why donât you tell me all about your brother, and weâll try to retrace his steps.â
*
As they poke through various corridors, Hermann learns that Makoâs brotherâs name is Jake, heâs seven years old, and heâs somewhat more familiar with the Shatterdome than she is, having visited their father here the previous year. Theyâve quarreled, as siblings tend to do, and now heâs most likely gone off somewhere to sulk and hide from her.
âBut something might have happened to him,â Mako says fretfully.
âPossible, but not very likely,â Hermann says. âNo one here would do him any harm.â There are places in the building that would be dangerous for a small child to wander into unattended, but if anyone saw him there, they would be sure to remove him, and probably return him to his father, whoever that may be. Hermann is not familiar with anyone by the name of Mori, but then, he hasnât interacted with anyone outside of the physics lab in quite some time.
âI was supposed to be watching him. If he gets into trouble, it will be my fault,â Mako says. She looks so glum, trotting along at Hermannâs side. Poor thing.
âWhen I was seven, my older brother lost me at the supermarket,â Hermann says, offhand. âAnd look how I turned out.â He waits until sheâs looking up at him before he bares his teeth in the most monstrous grimace his face can manage. âAwful!â
Mako giggles, then slaps a hand over her mouth.
âI think you grew up to be a very nice man,â she insists.
âNonsense. Itâs common knowledge that Iâm a heartless wretch who cares for nothing but mathematics. And all because Dietrich allowed me to wander off alone.â He smiles at the girl, entirely unaccustomed to teasing anyone this way, but rather enjoying it nonetheless. She seems to be cheered up by it, anyway, so he must be doing it right.
âIf you had no heart, you would not be helping me now.â
âWell, I canât fault your logic,â Hermann says thoughtfully. âThen, if I turned out all right in the end, I suppose that means Jake will, too.â
âBut how did your family find you?â Mako asks.
Ah, yes, that is the question, isnât it? He tries to think back to what happened that day. His mother had been quite busy with Bastien, which was why sheâd turned Hermann over to Dietrichâs care. And Dietrich had only had eyes for a certain very pretty teenaged cashier who was far too old for him. Hermann never would have wandered away if heâd been with Karla, but sheâd been home with the flu that day. Oh, yes! And heâd gone off in search of something to lift her spirits.
âAs I recall, they found me in the bakery, stuffing myself with lemon tarts. The people who worked there thought bribery would be an effective method of finding out where Iâd come from.â They look at each other, and reach the same conclusion simultaneously. âI donât suppose Jake is partial to sweets?â But of course he is. What seven-year-old child isnât?
*
They find young Jake in a supply room attached to the kitchen, curled around an empty ice cream container with a terrible stomachache. Itâs only then that Hermann realizes the child heâs been helping to find is not Jake Mori, but Jake Pentecost, which means the girl Hermann has befriended is none other than Marshal Pentecostâs adopted daughter, who no one in Anchorage has yet had the chance to meet. Hermann is terribly embarrassed to return the children to their fatherâs care, receiving his commanderâs sincere thanks in return. The marshal has never so much as said hello to him outside a staff meeting before this.
Hermann returns to the lab, where young Mr. Connor, looking petrified, announces that heâs found a way to restore a significant percentage of Hermannâs lost work, and heâs very sorry that he couldnât get it all, but heâll do his best to reconstruct the remainder if Hermann could just check his work to make sure there are no more mistakesâ
âWell done, Mr. Connor,â Hermann says. âVery well done indeed.â
Connor nearly faints at the praise.
*
Mr. Connor becomes Dr. Connor over the course of their time together, and remains a part of Hermannâs steadily dwindling staff through transfers to Vladivostok and then Hong Kong. But he doesnât last forever. Dr. Connor has just become another victim of the latest round of layoffs on the day Jake Pentecost quits the jaeger program.
Miss Mori, now quite the promising young engineer, has remained a friend, and she comes straight to him, bypassing the biology teamâs half of the lab in spite of Dr. Geiszlerâs squeaks of indignation.
âHow can I help you, Miss Mori?â Hermann asks, resisting the urge to do something childish like stick his tongue out at Dr. Geiszler because the young lady has come to see him and not Newt.
âI lost my brother again,â Mako says.
âOh, dear. This is becoming a habit.â He leads her over to the designated break area, where he can make her a cup of tea while she tells him all her troubles.
âJake is the most stubborn person I have ever met,â Mako says. âHe canât help fighting back against everything. And you know the marshal does not respond well to people who choose not to listen.â
Yes, indeed. Hermann would never dream of criticizing his superior officer, but the man can be somewhat temperamental when pushed past the limits of his patience. And no one pushes quite like a teenager. Jake is a decade older than when Hermann first met him, nearly grown and on track to be piloting the next generation of jaegers, but he has not yet attained his sisterâs emotional maturity.
âI take it theyâve had a significant disagreement?â Hermann asks.
âJake walked out of the program. Or was thrown out, Iâm not sure.â
Oh, that is serious.
âNow I have no idea where he is or what heâs doing. He wonât answer my phone calls. I just want him to let me know heâs okay.â
Hermann could share with her the wisdom of his own past once again. If anyone understands cutting contact with oneâs father, and losing out on sibling relationships as a result, itâs him. But he doubts thatâs what she needs to hear this time.
âHe was training in Los Angeles, wasnât he?â Hermann asks. With all the cuts to the programâs funding in recent years, the dedicated facility in Alaska is no longer feasible, so the cadets are being taught as best they can in whatever Shatterdomes remain open. Los Angeles may be the next to close, but it remains in service for now.
âLA is a big city. He could be anywhere. Thereâs no telling what kind of trouble he could get into.â
âMiss Mori,â Hermann says gently. âYour brother is lucky to have someone who cares for him as much as you do, but Iâm afraid youâre going to have to accept that certain things that young man does are simply not your responsibility.â
âHeâs a stupid boy who decided to run away from home because he didnât get his way!â
âHeâs a resourceful young man who is quite capable of taking care of himself,â Hermann corrects. âIn part, because of the things youâve taught him, may I remind you. You are a good sister, and Iâve no doubt heâll find himself turning to you for help when he really needs it, but I doubt heâs looking for your protection just now.â
âSo I should just let him run away? Heâs so irresponsible,â Mako grumbles.
âAnd who isnât, at that age? Excepting you and I, of course.â
âOf course.â They do have a certain kinship there. Both of them were made to grow up faster than their peers, he because of parental expectations, she because her entire life was upended and her childhood torn away from her when Onibaba struck Tokyo. Jake has been shielded from the worst of that sort of thing, despite the ongoing apocalypse and his drive to become a ranger. Heâs experiencing normal growing pains, and like most young people, heâll find his own path.
âDrink your tea, Miss Mori,â Hermann says. âIâm afraid thereâs very little we can do from here. But Dr. Connor will be passing through Los Angeles on his way home. I could ask him to make a few inquiries. There must be someone who knows where your brotherâs gone. Even if the boy doesnât wish to speak to you just now, youâll know where he is, and heâll know youâre looking.â
âThank you, Dr. Gottlieb.â Then she smiles and shakes her head. âDr. Connor? Heâs terrified of you.â
âOf course he is. Iâm a heartless old crank, remember?â
That makes her giggle, as it always has. Mako persists in believing that heâs a kind, generous, all-around decent human being whose bark is far worse than his bite. Sheâs done terrible things to his reputation. None of his colleagues are afraid of him anymore, and certainly not Dr. Connor, with whom he came to an accord years ago.
He glances across the lab at Dr. Geiszler, who is attempting to be covert in his observation of the two of them. Now thatâs a person who could stand to be a bit more intimidated by Hermannâs sharp tongue.
He returns his attention to Mako, dismissing the biologist as beneath his attention. Heâll find a way to keep Miss Mori in contact with her wayward brother. And he wonât even throw it in Newtonâs face that heâs the one sheâs come to for help. Even though it clearly signifies that heâs her favorite.
Well. Maybe heâll throw it in Newtonâs face a little.