Chapter Text
As if it never had reason to end, the process came naturally to Dr. Gottlieb, perched high on his ladder. Focused intently on the small gray space, he made a single mark. Framed by its cousins, it became a complete, systematic family. Hermann leaned back slightly, assessing his work, and smiled. In his descent he fetched his cane from the third-to-last rung, and gently laid the shortening chalk nub on the ledge of the board. The scrawling numerical semi-nonsense was suddenly sensible, transcribed into his computer. Hermann glanced up every now and again to compare the analogue with the digital code.
A languid call from within the hall broke the lab's silence, a precursor to Officer Choi's none so peaceful presence. It was a nice change of pace that the man didn't immediately make an exit upon noticing the vacant right side. Hermann earned Tendo's unabashed friendship over the past few months, and this was his reward.
“'Sup, Hermann?” he asked, politely leaning against Dr. Gottlieb's desk. Had it been Dr. Geiszler's work space, his presence would have been entirely more invasive.
“I'm well, Tendo. What brings you to our humble corner?” Hermann took pause from typing. The urgency of the physicist's work was purely to be taken at face-value, as it was more of a personal project, after all.
“Bored out of my mind, you know how it goes. Thought I'd stop by, say 'hi' to you, annoy the hell out of Newt...”
Hermann chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Very well, though I am afraid Newton is off in the medical bay at the moment.”
Tendo snapped his fingers in conjunction with his sparked memory. “Right! He mentioned he was getting his staples out today. Told me he had to wait a week to drink because of the pain meds or something, makes sense.” Hermann nodded in agreement. It had been a long week, but at least the biologist stuck to his prescribed regimen. There had been more than a few indignant moans, but blessedly little argument.
“You look busy,” Tendo noted off-handedly, motioning towards both the chalkboard and the computer with his coffee mug. “Herc got you tied up like the rest of us?”
Dr. Gottlieb gazed wistfully across the hand-written code, having started the project only two days prior. “Not quite, Newton and I have begun to collaborate on a proposal for a possible alternative for powering the Jaegers. Analogue is best, considering how Gipsy was the only one able to operate after the EMP attack, but radiation poisoning is not something we'd personally like to witness after Stacker's illness.” If Marshal Pentecost hadn't been lost during Pitfall, he would have fatally succumbed to acute radiation syndrome. It was just a matter of time.
“Newton put a lot of research into bio-fuels in the past months, and on a whim decided to try and concoct a regenerative yeast-based substance that could be used to power the Jaegers. Indefinitely, he hopes. In the meantime I've been trying to determine if such a concept is viable. It's kept us busy...” he trailed off.
Tendo smiled. “So things are going well between you two?”
Hermann couldn't help but simper. Yes, Officer Choi was the Shatterdome gossip, but when it came to Newton's and now, by proxy, Hermann's comfort and happiness, he kept to himself. Mostly.
“I believe so...” The physicist became wary of the man's growing smirk.
“Is it good?” The officer's brow peaked, his mouth having become obscured by the underside of his coffee mug. After a minute of scrutiny and interpretation, Hermann's face glowed.
“We... haven't, yet...” The stuttered reply was lined in shame in the wake of Tendo's informality. Hermann was only recently the direct recipient of the man's unguarded commentary. Though he did witness the officer's banter with Newton from the outside, he was not prepared for Tendo Choi's candid conversation aimed towards himself. The officer laughed.
“Sorry, brother. It's only that... Well, I don't mean to imply that Newt's a nympho or anything.”
Hermann swallowed. “Why, did you two..?” Tendo's eyes grew wide, and raised his left hand with emphasis, turning his wrist to let the thick gold wedding band on his finger glint under the fluorescent light.
“Loudly spoken for. Just coffee talk, don't worry. Take it as a compliment. He doesn't want to scare you off, you know?”
Dr. Gottlieb wasn't sure whether he should feel flattered or embarrassed, and simply accepted Tendo's more educated assessment of Newton Geiszler's actions with a nod. It had only been a week, after all.
“Yes, well, he hasn't been able to scare me off yet...” Hermann fidgeted with the worn hem of his sweater vest. Tendo took this as his invitation to head back to his own work, decidedly freeing the desk of the burden of his own weight, summoning a relieved creak from the wood.
“Sorry if I overstepped my bounds, slip of the tongue, is all,” the officer winked, the act wholly contradictory to his apology. “Just remind Newt of tonight for me? Open invitation, of course.”
Hermann smiled up at the man, receiving the same gesture in kind before Tendo strolled back out of the lab. He began to type again, distracting himself from his own thoughts and evaluation. Unlike the week after Pitfall, the past seven days were a different brand of tense. Newton's adventure had been dubbed the Brody Incident after half the Shatterdome decided to project “JAWS” in the Jaegar Bay and fumigate half the base with the smell of burnt popcorn. A tad ill-timed in Hermann's opinion, but the biologist insisted on joining them. Admittedly, it was a nice change of pace to sit back and watch a film, but that night Hermann discovered Newton in the lab on a hunch, in the throes of a PTSD-influenced panic attack that could only be attributed to the events on screen. Leave it to Dr. Geiszler, scrubbing at his wrecked face, to lament the loss of one of his favorite classic movies around an uncertain laugh, bloodied crescent moons trailing up his arms and neck.
“What a fucking joke,” the biologist said that night. Hermann could only assume it was self-referential.
Neither were without their insecurities. Conversation was still difficult, but it was getting easier. Transition from a professional relationship was going to take time. There were many gaps to fill, words to say, emotional bulwarks to deconstruct, but they were up to the challenge. Together, they had made considerable progress, but they had a long way to go.
From within his pocket Hermann's phone rang, the staccato vibrations jolting him from his thoughts. Retrieving it, he answered without a second thought.
“Yes, hello?”
“Mein kleiner Junge!”
The warmth of his own mother's words coursed through him like homecoming in the wake of recent weeks. Hermann smiled. “Hallo, Mama.”
“You really do need to call more often, I'm afraid my heart cannot take any more of these near-disastrous events...” She sounded relieved over the phone, if not a tinge exasperated. Her son didn't mean to deny her news of his well-being, it just so happened that preventing further catastrophe took a little more precedence.
“I apologize, but I am doing quite well, to be sure,” he reassured.
“Well enough to attend your brother's wedding, I hope?”
Hermann flinched, and brought his hand to his face, willing his action inaudible over the phone. “Of course, I only need to finalize my leave with the Marshal. I doubt it will be a problem.”
“You can be sure he will hear from me if he refuses! It is only two weeks away. It would be lovely if you were able to come early to spend time with the family, the children keep asking after you.”
The thought of Karla's family was enough to remove the image of Mrs. Gottlieb admonishing Hansen from half a world away. Hermann didn't want a repeat of his freshman year in Berlin, having discovered a room mate when he had strictly filed for single housing. She could be a little overbearing, no doubt overprotective, but it was a reflection of her own love. Hermann could sympathize now, having felt the urge to throttle those who even looked at Newton sideways. The physicist's eyes lit up.
“Mama, I have a request, if it may be of no trouble?”
“Of course! What is it, Liebling?” Any and all trace of maternal pluck was instantly replaced with tenderness. The switch never failed to unnerve all four of her children, rendering Hermann silent for a moment to recover. He cleared his throat.
“Might it be possible to invite a guest? To the wedding, that is...” Hermann didn't want to imply anything, nor involuntarily reign anyone in to Gottlieb family politics, celebratory or otherwise. It just wouldn't be fair, but life rarely is.
“A date? Mein Sohn ist verliebt! Who is it? Tell me, tell me!”
“Yes, who is it, Hermann?“
“Karla!“ Their mother was the first to admonish her own daughter, but seemed considerably less concerned when she continued to press. “Never mind your sister, dear. Who is it?“
Again, the hand that raked itself down Hermann's face was not audible, but his groan certainly had been. He could still hear his sister's muffled laughter on the other line, most likely upstairs in the hallway of their parent's home, the antique-looking rotary phone sitting in her lap as she sat on the floor, her children piled around her.
“I don't think who is important, if it's going to be treated as entertainment at my expense,” Hermann warned, his temper aimed wholly at Karla. Accustomed to their playful banter, it didn't faze their mother in the least.
“Come, now. How am I supposed to book the plane ticket without a name?”
Her son was almost convinced that she was also beginning to play him. He took a deep breath, and said, “Newton Geiszler.”
“Hah!” Karla squealed over the line, the monosyllabic response forcing Hermann to briefly hold his phone a fair distance from his ear.
As if summoned by name only, the singularly familiar pattern of combat boots converged upon the lab from down the hallway. Spinning around in his chair Hermann stared, stupefied, taking in the hooded figure at the door. Acknowledging the rather vocal cell phone held at arm's length by his partner, Newton simply nodded, and slowly made his way to his side of the lab.
“Hermann? Hermann, are you there?” His mother's voice was loud enough to be heard from a distance.
“Yes, I apologize. What was that?” Hermann uttered into the receiver, thankfully hearing no sign of Karla above their mother's own joy.
“It's about time! I remember your how happy you were when you got those letters in the post,” she gushed.
“Yes, well, a lot has changed since then,” Hermann absently noted, his focus on Dr. Geiszler, typing quietly at his desk.
“Well then, I will book your tickets for next Friday.”
“Wait, I—”
“It's never any trouble, Hermann. Ich liebe dich!” With an exaggerated kissing sound, and no time to contest, the call ended. The physicist blinked at his phone, slowly registering the entirety of the conversation, and pocketed the device after a generous sigh escaped his lungs.
Looking up Newton seemed no different, the subtle glow of his screen illuminating his shadowed face under the cover of his hood. Had it been a year earlier Dr. Geiszler would have hovered over his colleague, mouthing words and fawning over him as the physicist attempted to concentrate on the distant conversation. Much had changed, indeed. As the man busied himself with whatever he found so important on his computer, Hermann ditched his own station to find himself clearing a space to rest against Newton's desk. The man didn't look up.
“Is something wrong? Is your head okay?”
Where once Dr. Gottlieb relished in his colleague's silence, as of late, it was vexing.
“Uh, my head is fine. Why?”
Hermann reached out, fingers brushing a messy clump of hair out of the other man's face before his hand pushed back under the hood, slipping it off. Lost in the sensation Newton's eyes had closed, humming, but jolted and pushed back, catching his partner off-guard.
“I'm sorry, did I hurt you?” Hermann knew he didn't. Curious, he stared at what lay beneath the cloth, what might have rendered Newton so shy. The fresh bandage was where it should have been, considerably less bloodied and yellow than it had been days ago, but around it Newton's head was neatly buzzed, symmetry sacrificing the length on the other side to match. Nostalgia hit like a wave—the last time the biologist had his hair in a mo-hawk, it was at the Academy.
Newton cleared his throat. “I, uh... I didn't want to have just a patch missing, so I had an orderly help me even it out.” His partner's silence caused him to fidget, cracking his knuckles one at a time, formulating an excuse. “I mean, if you don't like it I can just shave it all off—”
“No, no, Newton... It looks,” Hermann gauged his partner's face before choosing his response. “It's very becoming.” Dr. Geiszler only rolled his eyes, but hearing the word describe such a counter-culture hairstyle, by Hermann no less, was the best complement he could have asked for. Newton naturally tested his limits.
“So, I was thinking green?” the biologist smirked, prepared for Dr. Gottlieb's momentous groan. “Kidding, kidding... I wouldn't be able to bleach my hair for a few months even if I wanted to.” At this, Hermann looked relieved, and changed the subject once he carded his hand affectionately through the stripe of hair once more.
“Tendo came by,” he noted, continuing to brush his partner's head into a semblance of neatness, almost lulling the other into sleep.
“Mm, saw him in the hall,” Newton began, humming. “I couldn't forget if I tried. He's been bugging me about it all week.”
The pair sat that way for a while, basking in each other's company until Hermann's phone chimed. Not wanting to break their peace, the physicist ignored it until Newton brought it up. “Gonna get that?” he asked, cracking an eye open. With a sigh Hermann took his hand from atop his partner's head, feeling only slightly bad and a lot amazed at how much worse he had sculpted the hairdo. Fetching his phone, Hermann discovered his mother had delivered her promise rather expediently, and to her own lavish taste. In his inbox sat the confirmation for two first-class tickets to Heathrow, departing next Friday. He exhaled the breath he didn't realize he was holding in.
“What's up?” Newton asked, flipping his hair to fall to one side. He swayed his seat gently, side-to-side, scrutinizing his partner. Hermann cleared his throat.
“Newton, would you be opposed to meeting my family?” the physicist asked carefully. The thought didn't seem to bother his partner in the least, who simply shrugged and continued to twist his chair with the toe of his boot. “I've already met your father. I think I handled that well enough,” Newton mentioned, lifting a pen from his desk to bring to his lips.
“Yes, well,” Hermann began to elaborate around a nervous laugh. “You see, my brother's wedding is approaching, and I might have volunteered you as my plus one.” Newton's eyes crinkled in the most captivating way, his mouth smiling around the plastic cap. Hermann didn't want that look to ever disappear, fearing the detail to come.
“The wedding is quite soon, I'm afraid,” he continued, worrying the head of his cane. “My mother has taken the liberty of buying us both plane tickets for next Friday.”
As soon as the information came, Dr. Geiszler's eyes bulged.
Hermann felt it prudent to add, “First-class to London.”
Newton's feet met heavily with the floor. “Huh?” he squeaked.
“I understand if it is too soon. It's no trouble at all to cancel your flight,” Hermann was interrupted when his partner held up a loose hand.
“Hold up. You're telling me I get to fly first-fucking-class, dude?”
“Well, yes, I—”
“Like, hot towels, ice cream, booze, the works?”
Newton was an enigma—his child-like excitement admirable and incredibly diffusing. For that, Hermann was thankful, confirming the perks his partner apparently never had the privilege to experience, only to hear of in passing like some long-guarded secret.
“Fuck, dude. I'm a horrible flier, but that might actually make me like planes,” the biologist laughed, sticking the pen between his teeth again.
“So you'll come with me?”
“Of course,” Newton reassured, reaching over to place his hand upon Hermann's tense fists, stroking his thumb across the series of whitened knuckles. His eyes squinted again, accentuating his crows feet in the same way that arrested Hermann's attention the first time. The physicist stalled, then pivoted forward to capture Newton's lips on his own. It came as a surprise to them both, as intimacy was not frequently expressed this early in their relationship. As such, neither dared spoil the moment, moving in tandem, savoring the connection as long as they could.
“How can I say no to that?” Newton breathed. “If it meant I got more of that, I'd go steerage in a goddamn cargo ship.”
Collecting himself, Hermann willed his face to regain a more normal shade of pink, muttering a simple “thank you” in return. He demanded more, but now wasn't the right time, for either of them. Newton met him with a single peck on the cheek, and that was enough, delivering a conscious squeeze to his hand.
“Shit, does that mean I have to shave my head now?” the biologist lamented, a genuine look of regret upon his face as he reached up and fluffed the limp mo-hawk.
“Absolutely not. I believe it would be a good dose of humility for my father to know the person who saved the world twice from near destruction, tattoos, doctorates, and all,” Hermann stated confidently, sparking within Newton the youthful rebellion he had to suppress for the sake of professionalism. The look in his eye was positively wicked, and didn't go unnoticed.
“However,” Hermann pressed, “I must ask you to please behave yourself. I trust you know how to act in the presence of family?”
“Dude, I have like, zero relatives. Familial discourse is not something I have much experience with, but I've been to enough commencement ceremonies to know how not to be a complete jackass. Give me some credit.”
Hermann eyed the floor. “Forgive me, I far from dislike my family, but my father has... standards.”
The warning caused Newton to throw his head even further back in exasperation. “Dude, you gotta stop letting your dad rule your life,” he groaned. “Don't doubt for a second that I won't do my best to not only behave myself around Lars, but to simultaneously shove it in his face, as nicely as possible, that I probably had all six of my doctorates before the age he even considered his prospectus.”
The younger Dr. Gottlieb had been on that end of his argument before, in more abrasive times. Newton was smart, and possessed a social savvy to woo the most studied of persons, if not completely confound those of average intellect. That now became valuable ammunition.
“I beg you not resort to such things, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Hermann acknowledged, all the while secretly relishing in the idea of his own father being brought down a few pegs, but that fantasy could wait until they at least arrived in England.
Glancing up at the clock Hermann noted there was time enough for a leisurely dinner before Tendo expected Dr. Geiszler's presence in LOCCENT.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“I could eat, sure. It would be best to carb-load, considering what Tendo has in store for me tonight.” Newton stood, tossing the chewed pen back onto his desk before offering his hands to assist Hermann. As soon as the physicist was on both feet , he was brought into a hug.
“Man, next week I'm gonna be on a plane, on my way to meet Hermann Fucking Gottlieb's family.” Newton laughed into the scratchy wool of Hermann's sweater. “You sure about this?”
“Liability is a minimum,” the physicist assessed.
“Projected risk?”
“Accounted for.”
Hermann waved to the sprawling equation on the blackboard.
Newton lightly shoved out of the hug, a smile on his face as he playfully punched his partner's shoulder. “Jerk,” he laughed, but kissed his partner's cheek, anyway.
“We were about to get dinner, were we not?”
“Yup, I need to save this really quick.” Newton spun around in his desk chair, sure to type a few more thoughts for good measure. Making it back to his own computer, Hermann couldn't help but stare across the room. Dr. Geiszler sat, his eyes bright with a familiar spark whose absence rivaled that of his mo-hawk.
It would be wrong to call this coming full circle. For years Dr. Gottlieb tried to carry the weight of the world and its fate upon his shoulders. He emphasized his importance, adopting an ever-growing critical eye while blindsided by his own hubris, but he was no longer alone. He never was, he realized. As much grief the military might have furnished upon his life, he was among friends, equally as haunted, and equally as determined to fight. A decade was a long time to chase monsters; even longer when running from them. Yet, if there were any lessons Dr. Gottlieb cherished, it was to never judge a book by its cover, and that fortune always favors the brave.
“You ready?”
Hermann looked up. Newton stood in waiting, arm out, palm up, an echo of the young, rebellious man the physicist met at the Academy. For all they had been through, this small, insignificant moment was nothing short of a miracle. Hermann smiled.
“Yes, I'm ready,” he nodded, and took Newton's hand.