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It was exactly three weeks to the day since the world didn’t end.
Dr. Hermann Gottlieb stood up from his workstation in the K-Science lab, motivated by a need to create some overdue mental and visual distance from the restlessly flickering holo-deck at his terminal. He’d been working on an extensive report documenting the final subsets of Breach data he had obtained prior to its closure, but found his mind continually wandering from his task.
Initially after the Breach was closed, he had felt an overwhelming sense of relief and elation, swept up in the celebratory joy pervasive not only in the Shatterdome, but the entire world at large. But as the days passed, he started to feel a slight unease creep back into his thoughts and he'd been having more and more difficulty focusing.
It was not clear to him what his next steps should or even could be. He’d received innumerable job offers from the world’s most prestigious institutions, but he had not been able to so much as acknowledge any of the correspondence.
He sensed a twin energy emanating from Newton, who increasingly zoned out for long periods of time or paced the room, flitting restlessly between his workspace and the chilled sample storage. He supposed he and his labmate were in a similar position; their collective success had effectively obliterated the subject of their life’s work. Hermann sympathized tremendously, although he hadn't yet found a way to vocalize it.
Noticing the other man staring into the middle distance for the umpteenth time that day, he cleared his throat and broke the stagnant silence. “Newton, would you like to go for a walk?”
Newt’s eyes snapped back into focus. “Yeah, man, sure. I think I need to get out of the lab for a bit.”
“As do I,” Hermann agreed and he took up his cane and made his way towards the exit. Newton followed and fell into step next to him.
They began to wander without a preconceived destination down the stark metal halls, their footfall punctuated by the rhythmic clacking of Hermann’s cane on the floor.
For the first week or so after the end of the end of days, the festivities had been continuous. However now, many of the denizens of the Hong Kong Shatterdome had moved on and the halls were, for the most part, silent and unoccupied.
The true irony of it all was that when they had most needed the funding, it had been unceremoniously stripped away, leaving behind a skeleton crew trying to beat back the apocalypse with what limited resources they had. Now that the world no longer needed saving, they had funding in spades. The PPDC was to maintain a global oversight role and anyone who wished to stay on with the organization was invited to remain. But unsurprisingly, the vast majority had opted out, preferring to close that chapter definitively and move on to their new lives, or perhaps return to an old life left behind.
Hermann had thought about doing the same on more than one occasion; he had even gone so far as to draft a letter of resignation. But in the end he had not sent it.
The two scientists walked together wordlessly along the vacant hallways, looping around the deserted mess hall and taking an alternate path back.
They passed the Kwoon Combat Room, empty and quiet. Hermann had observed his fair share of combat trials to test Jaeger pilot Drift compatibility, particularly in the early days when he’d had a hand in coding the Mark-1 series. But it had been years since he’d even glimpsed the space.
Newt slowed his pace to a stop, slumping heavily against the rusting archway. He peered despondently into the room and let out a sigh.
Hermann turned to him. “Something on your mind?”
“Huh?” Newt looked back up, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Nah, nothing.”
Hermann knew unequivocally whatever was going on in his colleague's head was certainly not nothing. For one, he had known the man personally and professionally for over a decade, first through their letters and then throughout their tenure at the PPDC. Even from the start, they had always seemed to get paired together. Hermann had protested initially, back when the fallout of their disastrous first meeting had been fresh. However once they began collaborating, he understood the rationale behind the organization’s proclivity for keeping them in close quarters. The concrete results of their partnership were undeniable.
But moreover, sometimes Hermann swore that the Drift connection still lingered between them. It was nothing overt, but on occasion, a rare ghost of a memory or a burst of color that felt distinctly other would make itself known, humming in the background of his mind. He was unsure if Newt was experiencing the same odd phenomenon; he had never found a way to broach the topic.
“I will not press if you do not wish to speak about it,” Hermann stated simply, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. “But I know it’s not nothing.”
Newt sighed again and stared down over the steps to the empty room below before speaking in an uncharacteristically pensive voice. “Do you think we were actually Drift compatible?”
The question took Hermann by surprise. It was true that they had never undergone the rigorous testing that pilots did to determine compatibility. That had not been their luxury or circumstance. But Hermann's subjective experience in the Drift was evidence enough for him and he wasn’t entirely sure what caused Newton to doubt it.
Hermann directly addressed his long-time lab partner. “What makes you think we may not have been?”
“Dude,” Newt looked back at him glumly. “You quite literally came out of the Drift having a massive seizure and promptly barfed everywhere. I don't think that happens to people if they're compatible."
Hermann paused at this. He'd never framed it that way, never for a moment thought his physical reaction was due to a lack of compatibility and stated as much. “I’m certain that was due to the addition of the kaiju brain combined with the overwhelming nature of the information we saw.”
“Yeah, probably...” Newt said but avoided making eye contact. “You’re probably right…”
Hermann sensed the underlying skepticism tinged with malaise the thought was apparently causing the other man and he felt a vicarious ripple of doubt that seemed to come from Newton along with another feeling… was it… sadness perhaps? It wasn't entirely clear if his impression was due to the after-effects of the Drift or if he just knew Newton well enough by now to interpret his shifts.
“Well, would you like to settle the matter once and for all then?” Hermann asked.
Newt looked at him questioningly. “Uh… how?”
Hermann gestured to the room in response.
“What, like, here in the Kwoon?” Newt frowned.
“Why not? It would give us a definitive answer.”
“Um… but neither of us is combat trained…”
“Speak for yourself,” Hermann grinned at the biologist who looked back at him with piqued interest.
Something that didn’t come up in the Drift then, Hermann thought with satisfaction. Being able to still surprise Newton with revelations about himself post-Drift gave him an odd kind of comfort.
“Shall we get changed and meet back here?” Hermann suggested.
Newt's surprise transitioned back to his characteristic curiosity and he nodded at Hermann with a restored brightness in his eyes. “See you in a few.”
***
When Hermann returned, Newt was already inside the Kwoon. His back was to Hermann and he was selecting a quarterstaff appropriate for his height (not an easy task, apparently, if the pile of discarded sticks next to him was anything to go by).
He was wearing loose-fitting black track pants with a white stripe down the side and a tight black tank top. His extensive tattoos shone in a brilliant array of colors under the lights. Hermann gaped at them for a moment; he had briefly seen Newt’s forearms on a number of occasions exposed by his rolled-up sleeves before a set of latex gloves obscured them from view once again. But he had never witnessed them like this, as a continuum snaking over his labmate’s body. The collective was certainly something to behold.
Newton sensed his approach and looked back over his shoulders. His mouth lifted in a lop-sided grin that made Hermann’s breath catch for a fleeting moment.
He had long since avoided trying to overanalyze the feelings that seeing his colleague’s smile inspired. It had always been easier to push them to the recesses of his mind. But since their Drift, since surviving the end of the world together, since Newton’s arm had wrapped tightly around him in LOCCENT when the clock had stopped once and for all, it had become even more of an indiscernible jumble, as difficult to define as it was to ignore.
He took a step down into the room and removed his shoes and socks. The padding of the floor felt soft under his feet and the chill of the large, empty space raised goosebumps on his arms as he advanced forward to Newton’s side.
At last, it seemed Newt had located the shortest combat stick of the lot and stepped back to allow Hermann to peruse his options. He did not give them a second look.
“Do you mind if I use my own cane instead of the quarterstaff?” he asked.
“Sure, man,” Newt shrugged with a hint of surprise, “but aren’t you giving yourself a reach disadvantage?”
“Perhaps. But this is the length I’m used to in combat,” he said and spun his cane around in his grip, brandishing the smooth wooden implement with a flourish. It had been ages since he’d wielded it in such a way, but his muscle memory kicked in instantly.
“Holy shit,” Newt looked at him, eyes alight with excitement. “Are you trained in cane fighting?!”
“Bartitsu, to be exact,” Hermann specified and the look of unabashed awe Newt gave him made his chest swell with pride.
“I started training the day after I was accepted to the Jaeger Academy,” he elaborated. “I knew I was not going to be able to do the drills without the use of my cane, so I sought a solution.”
Newt leaned on his quarterstaff and shook his head. “I can’t believe you’ve never mentioned this before,” he said, voice pitching up with excitement. “If I had a bad-ass skill like that, I’d be bragging about it every goddamn day.”
“I don’t doubt that you would,” Hermann chuckled and maneuvered naturally into a starting stance, cane raised, turning the side of his body toward his labmate. "Shall we begin?"
"Hell yeah, bring it on!" Newt said, the corner of his mouth tugging up on one side as he stabilized his posture and held his quarterstaff at the ready.
They each stepped forward, circling each other slowly around the perimeter of the room. Hermann could feel his pulse thrumming as he drew incrementally closer to Newton, daring the shorter man to act.
Predictably, Newt was the first to strike as he raised his quarterstaff up and surged forward.
Hermann easily blocked the charge with his cane and grinned back at his opponent. “I figured you’d be the one to make the initial move,” he mused dryly.
“Yeah, well,” Newt countered, expression alive with energy. “If I waited for you to get your ass in gear, we’d be here all damn day.”
He swung the stick forward again in a swift arc and Hermann raised his cane to block, as the wooden clack reverberated loudly off the walls of the windowless room.
He tapped the cane down once on the ground and shifted forward, sweeping low. Newt launched himself into the air above the motion, landing unsteadily on his feet before regaining his balance and advancing forward. Hermann’s muscles tensed in anticipation, searching for an opening as Newt rushed towards him.
Newt brought his quarterstaff down as Hermann barely turned aside in time. Their weapons struck in brusque continuation, and Hermann made to block Newt’s sudden fusillade of thrusts, skipping back and positioning his cane to parry.
With a sharp jerk and a loud clatter, the wood met twice in rapid succession. The second hit was more powerful than the first and sent a shiver down Hermann’s spine. He swung his cane again, as it made a whistling swoosh through the air, chasing the other man’s retreat.
Newt eluded the swipe and Hermann could not help but notice the higher color rising in his lab partner’s cheeks from the exertion.
“You’re not half bad,” Newt grinned with playful derision, his words coming out in brief bursts of air.
“You should see me when I actually make an effort,” Hermann retaliated with mock haughtiness, feeling the rub of the hilt as he spun his cane in a swift, ostentatious rotation.
Newt snorted a quick laugh in return. “Show off.”
Hermann seized the next action and pressed forward, shifting his weight to his good leg, as he raised his cane and pivoted, trying to slip past Newton’s guard but his labmate sidestepped the blow and came in with a low jab. Hermann met the thrust and knocked it aside, moving stealthily into close range.
Hermann was near enough that he could smell Newt’s hair gel mingling with the scent of the fine layer of sweat that was beginning to form on his collarbone, giving his tattoos an otherworldly sheen under the overhead lights.
They broke apart and Hermann's chest fluttered erratically. He took a moment to attempt to calm it with deep, steady breaths. He slid his foot forward on the cool floor, mapping a circle across the spongy padding and noticed Newton shift his opposite leg in tandem.
Strange… he thought absently, freezing momentarily before continuing the motion. To his astonishment, Newt mirrored the pause and resumption of the movement perfectly.
It suddenly occurred to Hermann that neither of them had successfully landed a single blow. Statistically improbable as it was, the more his mind tried to settle on the notion, the less sense it made. He was combat trained; not a master by any stretch, but years of reliance on his cane had taught him to treat the implement as an extension of his body. Newton on the other hand, while a quick study in most things, was decidedly inexperienced. Yet they had each anticipated the other’s moves with such accuracy that they had yet to collectively score a single point.
Hermann felt an inexplicable sensation mounting in his mind. He took another step forward with his right leg as Newt took a step back with his left. He looked up and saw innumerable unspoken questions flickering in Newt’s eyes; fascination with an overt element of complete disbelief.
“What the hell is happening right now?” Newt whispered, but he kept moving, not breaking the fluid cycle of movement in which they found themselves.
In all the trials Hermann had witnessed, he had never seen anything close to what he was experiencing now. He no longer thought about what to do next; the movements seemed to come to him intuitively. His heart hammered in his chest fueled by confused adrenaline.
He felt pulled by an invisible energy as Newton echoed every move he made.
It felt almost like a dance.
It was invigorating.
They both took a step forward until they were nearly touching.
Abruptly, a burst of color painted the thoughts swirling inside Hermann's mind and he felt them intertwine and enmesh with another presence. It was as if his Drift connection with Newton was being re-established without the aid of any technology or machinery, flowing organically between them, amplified by their movements. He tried to find his breath as the sensation nearly overwhelmed him.
The ghosting tingling over his skin was accompanied by a vertiginous awareness as a memory abruptly materialized. He had to snap his cane back to the ground to maintain his balance and he heard Newt make a soft, startled sound close by.
The stark, cold room had faded and Hermann found his vision engulfed by a cerulean burst of familiarity. A sudden charge rippled through him and he shivered as the light hair on his arms stood on end. He was acutely aware of each part of his body and his muscles hummed with energy.
He breathed in the memories, his remembered life rushing before him as Newton’s recollections came into focus parallel with his own, adding new colors and sensations.
When they had Drifted together with the kaiju brain, he had felt an alien presence alongside them. But now, he felt only Newton. A warm recognition unfurled within his body as the Drift spread through him like a wave. The world around them faded and in this singular moment he felt as if his entire reality narrowed down to a pinpoint.
Newton stilled for a moment and shut his eyes, continuing his movements unobstructed. Hermann looked back at him in mesmerized astonishment but he followed suit and allowed his eyes to flutter closed. He could feel Newton moving close to him, always inches away but never touching, his presence like an anchor point in Hermann's consciousness. Following Newton’s progression had become effortless and he let himself become lost in it.
Suddenly, he felt a warmth under his fingertips. His eyes shot open and he looked in confusion to the source of the sensation. Newton’s wrist was held captive by his hand, the thrum of the biologist’s elevated pulse reverberating through Hermann’s fingers. He had not knowingly seized it, had not been aware of his motions before they happened.
The contact felt electric. He looked to the shorter man who stared up at him with wide eyes. An unmistakable flush suffused his cheeks and illuminated his light freckles. Hermann opened his mouth to try and speak, but no sound came.
At once, Newt backed up in startled bewilderment and tripped over his own feet. Whatever had been binding their movements together had apparently dissipated and Hermann surged forward to catch him, trying to grasp at his falling labmate with one hand with his cane in the other to stabilize them.
He missed his mark entirely as Newt fell heavily onto his back with a resounding thud and Hermann fell onto his front close by.
They lay immobile in shock for a moment before Newt began to chuckle slightly, high-pitched and disbelieving. “What the hell was that?”
“I’m sure I have… no idea,” Hermann sputtered, disoriented from the surprise of suddenly finding himself on the ground.
“I-I guess, the combat test is used to figure out potential,” Newt reasoned, “but once they’ve determined compatibility, why would they bring people back to the Kwoon after they’ve actually Drifted?”
Hermann nodded, feeling his pulse slowly stabilize. “Well, perhaps they should. The results are… more than a little surprising.”
“Yeah… yeah, man. It’s like it kick-starts the Drift connection again. I mean, that was...”
“Yes,” Hermann segued seamlessly into Newton’s train of thought. “Nothing short of incredible.”
Newt laughed breathlessly and stretched his arms above his head. He looked over at Hermann before turning to gaze up at the ceiling. “It really kinda was…”
Hermann quieted his voice and looked to the side, eyes fixed on the biologist’s face in profile. “Do you still question it, Newton?”
His labmate looked back and met his eyes.
“Or have your misgivings been put to rest?”
“Some of them,” Newt replied with an askew grin forming at the corner of his mouth.
“What could you possibly still be doubting?” Hermann asked.
Newt rolled over so he was up on his elbows. His expression was uncharacteristically contemplative. He observed Hermann for a silent moment and it felt like all the air had been expelled from the room.
He leaned forward and connected their lips.
Hermann's eyes widened in shock. Newton began to pull back but Hermann chased his lips and deepened the kiss. He sighed into the embrace and extended his arms around the smaller man, drawing him against his chest.
As Newton’s lips pressed against his own, starbursts of color whirled behind his eyelids. He felt Newt grin against his mouth as he wiggled himself closer.
When they broke the kiss, Newt smiled at him, his eyes a bright viridian.
A hundred thoughts surged simultaneously through Hermann’s mind. He looked at Newt and knew beyond a doubt that the other man felt every one of them.
It was true what they said. When you Drift with someone, words become unnecessary. He opted not to speak, but instead, focused his mind and projected a single thought forward.
“I won’t run any longer.”
He felt Newton’s fingers interlace with his own, clasping their hands as they lay together on the floor. Hermann closed his eyes and the response echoed in his mind.
“Neither will I.”