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There is a vast list of things Hermann expects from Doctor Newton Geiszler, from the most mundanely eccentric (fidgeting, manic smiles for no apparent reason while he stares really hard at what they think is a kaiju liver, being unnecessarily loud when there’s just the two of them in the lab) to the most batshit (dirty talking a kaiju brain, jumping over the table to reach the door instead of just walking around it, yelling a-ha out of nowhere only to startle Hermann into accidentally breaking something). Years of exchanging letters and working together had led Hermann to believe that little to nothing Newton does would ever surprise him; he had seen it all, experienced it all, perhaps to a much stronger intensity after being talked into drifting with a kaiju brain with his colleague.
(Hell, by now he can almost predict when Newt is going to act up, one of the – very questionable – perks that came with the whole drifting experience)
To say it takes a lot to make him even raise an eyebrow at Newt by now would be an understatement.
So the day Hermann wakes up from a lab nap (Newt wasn’t the only one losing sleep over kaiju guts, excuse him) to Newt’s very concerned face inches apart from his own, his first thought is to fish through his memories for a similar event and remind himself that it had happened before and it was nothing to worry about, really.
Except he fails to find a similar memory and he has had his eyes opened for at least ten seconds and Newt has yet to pull away, still looking at him as if he had been about to die two minutes ago.
This hasn’t happened before.
That thought alone is startling enough to make him scream, and Newt screams right back, just as startled as he scrambles away from his perch on their work table, fumbling for his glasses. Hermann clutches at his chest, heart rate at maximum speed and color quickly rising to his face (how embarrassing was it to act like your weird coworker?, he thought to himself, although he wasn’t entirely sure that was the sole reason for the heat on his face); Newt allows himself to fall on his butt, seemingly just as exhausted from the screaming.
Maybe they should exercise a bit more, Hermann thinks when he feels too tired to stand up. Coming out of the lab to see the sun sometimes would also help them. Maybe. They should test out that hypothesis one day.
“What”, the elder scientist starts, hand clasped to his shirt when it starts to slide down his chest, “were you doing, Newton.”
Newt still takes a while longer to recompose himself enough to speak, allowing his legs to spread on the cold floor of their lab and wiping a little too frantically at his glasses. “I was”, he pauses, takes another slightly gasping breath, “I was checking on you, dumbass.”
“I told you not to call me names!”, Hermann protests weakly (much weaker than he would have before – before a lot of the events leading up to their current situation, their calm evaluation of the aftermath of what they did to basically save the world). “Why would you do that? I was—I was only… taking a power nap. I thought you were, too.”
Newt nods, a little too solemnly for Hermann’s tastes. “I was”, he says, and his tone is so somber Hermann starts to feel more than just unsettled. “I was”, he repeats, and his eyes well up and Hermann’s stomach twists and mein Gott Newton what have you done this time— “But I had—I had a dream.”
Hermann frowns despite himself, something heavy settling itself on the pit of his stomach. He recognizes that as the same worry he felt the day he caught Newt having a seizure for trying to drift alone with that kaiju brain.
When he’s unable to find any words for Newt, the latter continues to talk. “I mean, sometimes I still feel the aftershocks from—it was an amazing experience, I’m not gonna lie”, he chuckles wryly, “but I think I could really do without the nightmares.
“But my nightmare wasn’t about that, this time.”
They’re familiar with the aftershocks – the ghosts in their sight, the images behind their eyelids whenever they’d close their eyes after a long night of work, the monstrous, hateful nightmares, the destruction of their home, their deaths by Precursor hands. Every second of the horrid imagery running through their minds felt like retaliation for what they had done – what they had found.
What worried Hermann the most is that they had become so common neither him or Newt would wake up from those with a start. They found no voice to scream anymore.
Newt bends his knees, gets up with a bit of a struggle. “This time”, he says, and he sounds and much older than his age, groaning quietly as he pats the dust off his trousers with shaky hands, “this time it was about you.”
Hermann frowns, leaning back on his chair to look up at his colleague, to listen to what he had to say, not exactly curious nor horrified.
“They really do find ways to hit us where it hurts the most, huh”, Newt continues, laughing dryly, not quite bitter but not at peace, either. “Those sly bastards. Sly, fascinating bastards.”
Hermann tries to follow, but he doesn’t quite catch on to what Newt means. It’s the first time Newt talks about the Precursors with something akin to contempt. He wonders what was so bad to make his friend—his colleague – so unsettled.
“But they can’t reach you, can they?”, Newt reassures him – reassures himself –, carefully stepping forward. Hermann sits still, not really unwelcoming to his advance. “Well”, he gestures around, matter-of-factly, “they can reach your brain—our brains, but they can’t do any damage, right?” He looks at Hermann before he stops in front of him, placing his unsteady hands on the elder’s shoulders. “You’re safe, right?”
“I—”, Hermann starts, reaching up to place an equally shaky hand on top of Newt’s without really thinking about it. “I am—I am quite alright, Newton. Your concern is appreciated but unnecessary.”
Newt finally smiles a smile that doesn’t look deranged—any more deranged than usual, at least in Hermann’s opinion. “Well, you’re even talking in Hermannspeak so that must mean you’re really alright!” He laughs an easy laugh, full of conviction. “I knew I had nothing to worry about—maybe I’ll just refrain from overdosing on sugar before I sleep—that must be it.”
“You should refrain from sugar period”, Hermann retorts, a sudden sense of relief washing over him when he realizes they had fallen back into their easy banter, that the tension from before had dissipated.
Newt easily brushes him off. “No one likes a party pooper”, he says, then he pauses, looking deep in thought for a second before adding, “well, I like you sometimes, that was an irresponsible generalization, my bad.”
Hermann frowns at him, not really annoyed at his words but out of habit. His hand’s still on top of Newt’s when they fall into comfortable silence that stretches on for long enough to become awkward once they notice they’re still holding hands.
“Let’s get back to work, shall we?”, Hermann clears his throat, hastily removing his hand just as Newt steps back, both too flustered to look at each other’s general vicinity for the time being. “We’ve slacked off for long enough.”
“Party pooper”, Newt sing-songs before retracting back to his assigned side of the lab. There’s no real bite to his words, and if the corners of Hermann’s lips turn up at the false offense, no one needs to know.
He knew that would never be the end of it; nightmares would come and go, affecting them in different ways. Sometimes they’d cope well with it, sometimes they would be so scared one would need to hold the other’s hand for a while until things calmed down. Hermann knew it was a risk they both took, but as long as their efforts were worth something—and as long as they had each other, things would always be bearable.
The second surprise of the day was realizing that nothing about relying on Newt and taking care of him bothered him in the slightest.