Work Text:
Cologny.
The Eighth of July. 1876.
Clutching a ticketed invitation, it seemed the Doctor had become used to experiencing nerves beyond his own comprehension. The young Percival seemed insignificant to the seminar before him, and his denial from the Royal Society seemed to only heighten his loneliness compared to the scholar’s before him. Of course, his family had reminded him he had the blood of scientists before him , but his blood was borne of chemists - hardly the physicists he claimed as his own career path.
Then again, the letter seemed to promise otherwise.
This admirer of his work - this M.S. - had promised a simple sponsor, and the young Doctor seemed starry - eyed at the prospect of donations. Upon that, this alluring promiser had offered him something far more precious than mere money - dedication.
Dedication to his craft.
Dedication to his approach to his science.
Dedication to him - a stranger.
For that is what they were. They were two strangers who so - happened to share an interest in the work Percy set out to create. The Galvanistic ideal of necromancy - to take something so unbelievable, so fantastical - and to make it scientific. When his peer had told him he had done some experiments of his own, the very concept seemed to be enamouring. Someone out there who was willing to follow his design - one who was willing to reach out for him, and reach towards the same aspirations.
Truly, if the Doctor had less of a professional mind about him, he could have flushed at the prospect of company. His stranger had a way with words that would not appease many, but seemed to appease his one - man audience so greatly.
How weak.
How weak was he to buckle at the knees at a mere promise - a mere *comparison* so Ceasre’s rendering. His gruff face , ever stagnant and clouded in profession , still cracked a smile at the man’s words. To share a sentiment seemed to be an impossible feat for his career, and Percy was nothing more than flattered when he had experienced such a privilege.
And he would be berated for it - not abusively, not horrifically, but side eyes would ring alarms. Nobody cared for such a morbid field, and so the research lacked. Nobody cared for research into electromagnetism, or the effects it could produce past mere physics. Nobody cared until he came along.
He, who wrote so kindly,
He who wrote so passionately,
He who assured assistance when his work faltered.
Percy seemed to find his eyes, emotionless, scanning the room for one that may share such an appearance with his words. Someone passionate , someone who proved his devotion to his work , someone who –
“ Doctor .. ? Doctor Percy? “
A meek, almost shy, almost intimidated voice rang from behind him, and the Doctor turned around.
The man seemed oozing with flawlessness, in Percy’s eyes. From his not - quite neat hair , his coy smile , his glasses that seemed *just too big* for him, a cross hanging loosely. He seemed far too endearing to be a self made man, and the solemn looking blonde behind him seemed to add to his contrasting impact. The man was aesthetically pleasing, to his niche audience.
“ Doctor, is it you? “
“ Ah - ja - you are M. S.? “
Such initials seemed to make the meeting impactful, as if the Doctor were to chase for a name; a fox preying on meat, or a whimsical lover chasing for the grip of his paramour’s hand.
“ Mikhail Shelley - Doctor. Doctor Shelley, I apologise. Ich neige dazu, mir selbst voraus zu sein. “
As the man expressed his self - proclaimed flaw, he seemed to give a shy laugh. The one behind him did not move.
“ Do not let me forget - my, *no*, our sponsor, if you accept - DeRoss. “
“ DeRoss. “ He repeated.
Percy gave a slight nod of acknowledgement to the blonde, and the man gave a simple nod in response before whispering in Mikhail’s ear, and bidding a farewell. And so, the two were left to their devices.
“ I - you must forgive me, Doctor - “
“ Percy, please. If we are to be working together, I ensure the formalities are not necessary. “
“ Percy, yes. Yes, I apologise. If it is no hassle, I have brought along my papers for you to read over. Of course, you have no pressure to do so now, I assure you. Still, I have been meaning to discuss them with you - my findings, your .. Bottleneck, and whatnot. “
“ I would take great pleasure in reading them, Mikhail, do not fret. “
“ Wonderful, “ Mikhail praised breathlessly.
The one before him smiled, no longer coy, but rather excited, as he reached into a satchel he hung around his lab - coat. There, he pulled out carefully preserved papers, binded richly and carefully. The man prided himself on his writings, and Percy found himself too clammy to consider holding his work.
Still, he took the papers, and regretted his inability to choke out more than a sheer thank you.
“ You would like to discuss the findings, perhaps? After this seminar, I am sure you do not plan to travel back to Ingolstadt so soon. Have you accommodation? I am willing to extend my house to you. “
“ Yes . “
The Doctor seemed to speak quickly.
“ I am afraid I have an inn - room around fifteen minutes away, but I do not mind a discussion over dinner, should the topic not be too gruesome for polite society. “
“ Haha! Oh, no need to worry about the opinions of others, much less of the high society people. They will not understand a word - had I not warned you, Percy? Then render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's – “
“ And to God the things that are God's. I had revised your letter, no need to worry. “
“ Matthew 22:21! Had you known that before? “
“ I am afraid not. I hardly attended Church as a boy; perhaps that is why I take such interest in the scientific afterlife? “
He almost teased, far too cocky once alone with the man. He received constant enthusiasm in response.
“ Surely not, for what of me ? I attend each Sunday, and yet your work sticks out to me the most. May I? “
He gestured to the Doctor’s arm, wordless permission to link with him as they spoke, walking towards seats within a crowded lecture - hall, DeRoss working at a podium in the centre.
“ You may. “ Percy reached out his arm, entwined soon after with Mikhail’s. Together, they sauntered towards a pair of seats, chattering as those around them set up.
“ When is your train home? “
“ Tuesday. “
“ You must visit, should this seminar be a success! Why, excuse my impulsive behaviour, but I had already informed my father of our meeting. He tells me to cease my excitement, but how can I? Your work is simply spectacular, and I shall have to show you my laboratory. Sunday? “
“ I am happy to see you Sunday, Mikhail. Ha - after Church, will it be? Perhaps you shall drag me along?
“ Perhaps I shall ! “ Mikhail followed with a laugh, shaking his head. “ No, no, do not worry. I shall come to collect you, say, in the afternoon? “
An *ahem* rung out from DeRoss, a signifier to begin his speech.
“ The afternoon it will be, then. Ah, I aim to move soon, I shall write to you from my new address within the next month, should you like? I do not doubt we will cease contact. “
“ Cease ! Simply not ! - “
*Ahem*, and the light beginnings of a speech - the ideas of mortality, and how secular one must make it, nowadays.
“ Yes, yes, do write to me. Do not forget to. I should like to hear your review of my work -. “
“ Do not fret, you will get a review tonight, nein? I shall read before dinner. “
“ Before dinner - ja, before dinner, correct. How thrilling! “
“ Indeed. “
They shared a smile, one enthusiastic, the other grossly charmed, as they dissolved into their own mutual silence, paying great attention to the speech given, and handouts they received. Of course, they were foolish, chatting under their breath to each other throughout the speech, and debating spiritualist ideals - Percy was quick to find Mikhail more than competent in conversation, and he almost found himself laughing along with the Doctor . There was nothing more than a shy sense of excitement that clouded the young pair, contrasted to their professional settings.
It was as if, for once, Percy was not mocked for his ideals, but endorsed and cupped by soft hands. Had he been more on - guard, he would not have flushed at the jovial conversations, but when Mikhail confidently reached for his arm as he spoke the ethics of (what was now) their work, he did not utter a complaint, or give a nasty look, but rather linked arms in godspeed. Both spoke with intelligence and pride, over dinner, and over laboratory work, and on a walk to the Cologny train station - with uttered promises of more letters, and more visits, and more recreational meetings.
Percy, throughout it all, found himself weak to the charm of his new - found friend, for assistant was not the right word. Through all of his might, he could not seem to find the right word, only a joyous feeling upon his mention, and the image of a man working peacefully in his home - laboratory imprinted into his mind.
It was only natural the two would get along better than most.