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Hermann was not, as a general rule, a man particularly prone to anxiety.
“Are you sure he's alright?”
Well…
He was not a man particularly willing to admit that he was prone to anxiety. Such nonsense had never been allowed, during his formative years, and the lingering certainty that any perceived mental weakness would be sniffed out and weaponized was difficult to unlearn. He was so, so very used to his behaviour being dissected, and his worries turned against him. Just acknowledging to himself that he was terrified was difficult.
Hermann was, however, trying to do better, because any negativity was liable to be shared, now. He probably could stick his head up his arse and pretend everything was absolutely fine, but Newton would probably feel the strain regardless. The poor sod had always been poised to help, ready to shoulder Hermann's burdens, but that was beside the point. Hermann wanted to be better; not someone who refused to grow.
“He's had a really heavy duty painkiller, that's why he's so drowsy. I want to check him out a bit at some stage, but he's okay, Hermann.” Hermann's doctor, at least the most recent Shatterdome appointed version, was very much aware of his propensity towards hysterics. It was unfortunately unavoidable, given the sheer number of disasters the man had witnessed, but that didn't really make it any less galling to be seen.
“Is that safe?” Shame was (and had always been) incredibly damaging, but there were some things in the world so important that they transcended the intrinsic horror of exposing his weaknesses. Hermann sticking his head in the sand had caused quite enough damage already. “Is he safe?”
Newton had been stolen from him, and in the time they had been separated everything had gone to shit. Some rogue specialist from fuck knows where had stormed in and stirred everything up into chaos. The bloody horrible man had triggered an uncontrollable, catastrophic implosion, and Newton had been harmed…
“He's safe. You're both safe.” Logically, Hermann knew that Jethro had no reason at all to lie. The whole purpose of the man was to make things better, but it was incredibly difficult to trust him when every fiber of Hermann's being said Newton was in danger.
Newton had been confiscated, irradiated and tormented. He'd been terrified, confused and on the floor. It didn't matter that the nurses had drugged him, scooped him up and put him back to bed again, because it shouldn't have happened in the first place. The damage was well and truly done.
“It- it doesn't feel safe.” Hermann had also been put to bed, right beside Newton where he was supposed to be, but the clawing sense of panic seemed disinclined to fade. “I don't- this is ridiculous.”
Anxiety overwhelming enough to rob him of all reason was ridiculous, but Hermann was powerless to stop it. His time-honored touchstone, the absolute certainty that Newton would be there to assist him should things become unmanageable, was useless when his would-be rescuer was unconscious.
“It's not ridiculous, Hermann.” Calm and unhurried, Jethro took a seat beside the bed. “Today's been a lot.”
Too much. The last however many months had been too much, and Hermann was possibly a little closer to breaking point than he was willing to admit. Hell, the last several years had been intolerable; too much pressure, too much pain and the absolute certainty that they were all going to die a horrible death…
“We're tired.” Physically, psychologically, fucking spiritually. Hermann was so exhausted that he couldn't even remember what it felt like not to be. “We're very… very tired.”
It didn't matter that Newton was loosely curled on his side, drugged insensible and sleeping with his head on Hermann's left thigh; the crushing exhaustion was bloody pervasive. Hermann was so tired that he could barely think straight, but sleep was impossible when the sense of threat remained.
“I think you've both reached the limit of what you can cope with, right now.” They had passed that point a long, long time ago. Hermann- he was beginning to realise that he needed to develop a new ranking system for trauma, given how badly the last little while had thrown off the graph.
He had been right on the upper limits of what he could cope with before he had stumbled into the laboratory and found Newton half-dead, fitting and trying to die in a tangle of bastardised scrap metal. After that point? Chaos. Unimaginable bloody chaos that left ash and ruin in its wake.
“I…” Hermann was tempted to lie, or at least obfuscate to disguise just how badly he was struggling to keep his head above the water. He wanted to tuck his vulnerabilities away into the dark spaces of his psyche, but no shame. “This is… today has been… too much.”
Jethro seemed disinclined to dissect Hermann's admission, thank everything; the doctor just nodded in sympathetic agreement. “I know. I'm sorry things went so badly; it wasn't our intention.”
“It's hardly your fault.” Perhaps it was Hermann's predilection for black and white thinking, but he couldn't get his head around why Jethro was apologising. Yes, he had almost certainly been the one to call in a ‘specialist’, but that was reasonable, logical, given the situation.
It made sense, that the medical team would contact an expert. Newton's horrible machine had been built from castoffs and in the grips of what was, in retrospect, almost certainly a psychotic episode. Newton had gone in with no supervision, no safety measures, and had damaged his brain in the process. He'd very nearly died, at which point the Marshal had told him in no uncertain terms that he needed to do it again.
Jethro, who had very possibly been the one to prevent Newton's grisly demise, sighed. He looked far too bloody repentant for a man so determined to help them. “Right now, both of you are my responsibility. If a specialist that I called in fucks you up, that's on me.”
Like hell it was. The Shatterdome medical staff had been incredibly diligent, not only in providing the required care, but in meeting Hermann's distinctly abnormal psychological requirements. They had gone out of their way to make things easier for him, despite the extra workload that entailed.
“It's ridiculous, to feel responsible for a situation that was outside your con-oh.” Hermann hadn't actually noticed that he was being led to a conclusion until the words were out of his mouth. “Bugger.”
Bloody doctors and their mind tricks. Jethro didn't give any indication of smugness, but his smile got a fraction wider. “Exactly. The shit that went down today was outside of your control. The way you're feeling right now? Not a failure on your part.”
There was a moment where Hermann was sorely tempted to argue the point, but in reality it was too much effort. He was exhausted, uncomfortable and incredibly fucking anxious; trying to pretend that he wasn't would likely make things worse. “It feels like a failure. I can see him, hell, I can feel him, but every last fiber of my being is screaming that he isn't safe. It- it feels like my fault, that he's in danger.”
Hermann was uncomfortably aware that most, if not all, of the harm that had come to Newton was his fault. They had been- whatever it is they were to each other for a long, long time. Hermann knew how Newton's mind worked, how dangerous and self-destructive it could be, but he'd lost sight of it towards the end. He'd been too angry, exhausted and hopeless to read the writing on the wall.
Newton had been ready to die. He'd been ready to die by his own hand, and Hermann- he hadn't noticed. Or perhaps he had noticed, but refused to acknowledge it, because it was all too much. It didn't really matter. No, what mattered was the outcome; Newton had very nearly died, numerous times, and Hermann had done shit all to help until the very least second.
A keen look from the doctor; Hermann got the impression that Jethro could read his bloody mind. It felt like he was being assessed. “Enforced separation before both parties are ready is pretty much guaranteed to cause psychological issues. Even in a standard Drift, where exactly nothing has gone wrong, that's a documented fact.”
It was really quite frustrating, how much that helped. Quantifiable, repeatable data was probably the only thing Hermann could rely on, at the moment. It didn't fix his failings, or soothe the raw edges of might have been, but it helped.
“Our situation is far from ‘standard’, which is why you called in an expert. An expert that we chased away with our bad behaviour.”
Reassurances aside, the detestable man had been called in for a reason. He'd been summoned to (hopefully at least) put a stop to the terrifying seizure situation. The fact that neither of them had been able to tolerate even the suggestion of his treatment plan has stirred up a wonderful tangle of decidedly unmanaged trauma from the depths of Hermann's psyche.
It was fairly likely that Jethro had at least an idea of the problem, because he looked horrifyingly compassionate. “At the risk of opening a can of worms you're not in the right headspace to deal with… you felt that he was in a position of authority, didn't you?”
“Ah.” Right to the point, then. Hermann was well aware that he reacted in a certain manner when faced with a particular type of man. It was not a facet of his personality that he was in any way proud of, but it was well and truly bloody ingrained. “Yes.”
“Did you feel like you could say no to him?” Jethro's eyes were on Newton, which was the only reason Hermann didn't wither away in horror at the question. “Or did you feel entirely at his mercy?”
Well shit. Hermann busied himself with the bedding, tried to get Newton as comfortable and covered over as possible without causing any additional pain. “Does it matter?”
“It matters.” Hermann figured as much. Things that were quite so excruciating to think about normally were. “You can absolutely tell me to piss off with the questions, leave you both alone, but I get the impression that you'll do yourself a mischief, if we don't unpick this a bit.”
Hermann wasn't actually that prone to deluding himself. He didn't like that there was such a blatant vulnerability in his mental landscape, but he was unfortunately very aware that it was present. For as long as he could remember, the deeply ingrained, pathological inability to stand up for himself in situations that mattered had been there. He was never able to fight for himself, not able to say no…
“I don't understand the difference, but… there is a difference.” Not particularly eloquent, but Hermann was so unused to mentioning his flaws, let alone outright discussing them. “When you ask me to- to look at my behaviour, or my feelings? I don't know why, but it doesn't feel like I'm powerless.”
“You are absolutely in control here.” Straight to the point; it was part of what Hermann found so reassuring, where Jethro was concerned. No convoluted, verbal mind games. “At any point, in conversation or in terms of your treatment, you can set a boundary. I might ask you some follow up questions, try to understand what the matter is, but this isn't supposed to be me enforcing my will on you.”
For the entirety of Hermann's life, he had been surrounded by people who not only ignored his theoretical boundaries, but outright opposed them. He had learned, over the years, that defending that line around himself was nothing short of unforgivable bad behaviour. More often than not, the potential punishment just wasn't worth the fight, for all that his lack of backbone tormented him after the fact.
“So few things in this world are ever truly mine.” So many surgeries, when he was small, so many intensive therapies, and none of them made him normal enough. So much fear and pain that he couldn't even begin to understand. “My- my belongings, my hobbies… even my body was always outside of my control.”
Ever so gently, Hermann smoothed a hand through Newton's disordered hair. “He wasn't something I was allowed to have, but it was too difficult to let him go.”
“I can promise you, right here and now, that nothing is going to be done to you without your consent.” The tone was absolutely ferocious, but Jethro kept his eyes elsewhere. “Real, informed consent, because agreeing to something when you don't feel like you can refuse isn't actually an agreement.”
Newton had, not so very long ago, tried to refuse. He'd tried, because the ramifications of another Drift had been horrifying, but he hadn't actually been given a choice in the matter. “What if- if it's in our best interests-? Or perhaps the best interests of everybody else-?”
Newton had been terrified, because deep down in the fractured heart of him he'd know what was about to happen. The Marshal had put a gun in Newton's hand… he'd forced that gun into Newton's mouth and demanded he pull the trigger. Newton had agreed, but in reality he had never had an option to refuse.
“If for some reason both of you lack the capacity to make choices about your care, then yes, it's my job to make those decisions for you.” It should have been frightening, to hear it put so plainly, but for some odd reason Hermann found the words reassuring. “But I've been your primary doctor for years now; I like to think I know you well enough to anticipate your needs.”
Not an inaccurate statement, to be honest. For all that both of them could be difficult where medical care was involved, they had received a fair amount of it over the years. Unlike Newton's rather detailed file, Hermann's own records were lacking in some areas, mostly because his father had outright refused any sort of diagnosis, but there was enough information there to be going with. Certainly Jethro never seemed to struggle, when it came to providing adequate care to the pair of them.
“I- well, yes. I suppose you've done quite a good job, overall.” The embargo on shame was difficult, because it was the exact opposite of what Hermann had been taught, but it owed it to both of them to try. “We… there are things…”
“Hey.” Jethro extended a hand, and ever so gently brushed the back of Hermann's wrist with his fingertips. The movement was slow, well choreographed, and bizarrely the touch was not unwelcome. “There's no pressure. I just want to make sure you're okay.”
Hermann wasn't. He wasn't okay, and it was probably glaringly obvious. “I don't understand why this is so difficult.”
“You're not well, for a start.” It was entirely possible that Jethro was surreptitiously checking his pulse. Certainly his hand had crept into the right place for it. “You're actually, physically poorly; I've got the chest x-ray and blood work to prove it.”
True enough; Hermann had more important things to worry about than his health, but he was absolutely aware that he had somehow managed to inhale vomit recently. The prompt application of antibiotics had prevented things from getting too out of hand, thank heavens, but the infection was still very much present.
“It's clearing up well enough. I'm fine.” Hermann had always been prone to coughs and colds, and the vast majority of the bloody things liked to settle on his chest. He was used to that nonsense, and tended to ignore it until things either resolved or progressed to the point where medical intervention was unavoidable.
Resting quietly in bed with adequate, fairly high quality food on hand and copious amounts of medication was completely out of the ordinary, but it was obviously good for something. Anxiety aside, Hermann felt a damn sight better than he had in months.
Of course, Jethro rolled his bloody eyes at Hermann's perfectly logical statement. “Your infection markers are still all over the show, and don't even get me started on the deficiencies! You're not anywhere close to fine right now, which is more than enough reason to be struggling.”
“You've given me numerous supplements, pills, injections and a damned blood transfusion; surely that nonsense has corrected itself by now.” Hermann was in no way a biologist, but he'd worked in close contact with one for years. Even without the little rat lurking in his consciousness like an earworm, Hermann would have learned a few things.
For example, Hermann was well aware that correcting the abuse he had inflicted upon himself over the last few years would take more than a brief stay in the Infirmary. He wasn't exactly robust, health wise, and that was before he ran himself into the ground. The end of the world had not been particularly kind to him.
Hermann had yet to drum up the motivation to actually look at his blood results, but there'd been plenty of dire warnings from the staff. Hell, he couldn't actually remember the last time he'd been outside in the daylight, which probably explained a few things…
Regardless, the veritable pincushion full of needles he'd been poked with should have improved things enough to be manageable. Being run down and under the weather wasn't an excuse for such rampant anxiety.
“Yeah, not even close.” Jethro sounded far too pleased with himself. Aggravating bloody man. “You've done a number on yourself, but it's all fixable, at least.”
Hermann heaved a sigh, which of course started him off coughing and probably proved Jethro's point quite nicely. Thankfully things were getting better, and Hermann managed to get things under control with minimal difficulty.
“Here.” There was a box of tissues on the little tray table; Jethro held them out like a peace offering. “You okay?”
“Fine. Well… close enough.” Hermann wiped his mouth, and blew his nose for good measure. The bloody cough was painful, but he could feel the worst of the congestion starting to shift. “It's clearing up faster than anticipated.”
“Funny that; it's almost like I knew what I was talking about, when I said to get shit sorted before it turned life-threatening.” Infuriating bloody man was probably right. Still, the smile on Jethro's face was maddeningly kind, which helped more than Hermann cared to admit.
“There wasn't really time before.” Self-care had become a luxury that they could hardly afford, somewhere along the lines. Hermann had become accustomed to it. “But- well. You have a point.”
Jethro reached out and gave his wrist a gentle squeeze. “Keeping you idiots healthy is my job, but it's more than that. You lads deserve a hell of a lot better than the care you've had, recently.”
“You've been… incredibly accommodating. The fact that you're here, trying to manage my ridiculous anxiety proves it.” The man was probably incredibly busy, but still he took the time to make Hermann feel a little less tormented. It was- Hermann wasn't actually sure what it was. Bloody confounding, for a start.
“If you're feeling it, it's valid.” There was such kindness in his tone; Hermann had to look away. “You felt like you couldn't say no today, and that will have stirred up some shit.”
Hermann had, once again, done as he was told. He'd done what was expected of him, and as a direct result Newton had been harmed. “I suppose… I find advocating for myself… it's challenging. Saying no is challenging, but I need to, because… we know what we need.”
And there it was. Hermann, right down in the depths of his being, knew what he needed. He knew what would make his life easier, what he couldn't tolerate, and what a world that was accessible to him looked like. It was not, however, normal. He wasn't normal, and trying to be only ever seemed to cause him unimaginable pain.
“I'm a doctor.” It was odd, how very proud the man sounded. Almost as if he was proud of Hermann for admitting his failings out loud. “It's my job to look after your health, but it's more than that. I have to make sure that you're able to give real, informed consent.”
“I'm not sure I even know what that looks like.” The admission was painful, but also strangely freeing. “It feels… I suppose it feels like something terrible will happen, or something awful is going to be done to us, the very second I let my guard down.”
Jethro sighed, all world-weary exhaustion and regret. “What do you need? What can I do, to help you feel safe and in control right now?”
The fact that he saw fit to ask went a long way towards settling some of the frantic, fearful uncertainty. There was no denying that Hermann still felt on edge, but someone just trying to meet his needs was a blessed relief. “I think… perhaps… I need him closer.”
Newton had balled up into a curl, once the nurses had poured him back into bed. He'd remained tucked in tight and attempting to protect himself, even as the sedation took hold and he fell asleep. Even with his head on Hermann's thigh, he felt Impossibly far away and out of reach.
“I think we can manage that.” Jethro stood up, and stretched his back. He looked, Hermann decided, really quite tired. “How do you want to be positioned?”
“Sitting up is better, but...” Hermann certainly felt less vulnerable when he was upright, and it was easier on his chest. Unfortunately, Newton was well and truly asleep, so Hermann would almost certainly be forced to lay back down if he wanted to be closer.
Jethro shook his head with a smile. “No buts. We can absolutely get you sorted. Being a bit more upright will probably do Newt good as well.”
“I'd rather not wake him.” Not entirely true; Hermann would feel a hell of a lot better if Newton was awake and demonstrably fine. That wouldn't be fair, though; the poor little sod had suffered quite enough already.
“Don't worry about that. With the amount of drugs he has on board right now? Yeah. Little guy's going to be catching flies for a while yet.” The fondness in Jethro's voice was clearly genuine, and he was incredibly gentle, as he carefully started to untangle the snarl of sheets and medical equipment.
“He doesn't sedate easily.” Hermann had seen the terrifying amount of sedatives required to get Newton into a dentist's chair. He'd also seen the near-superhuman volume of cannabis Newton could consume, when the mood struck. It was just about as impressive as it was alarming.
Typically, Jethro just chucked, and continued his methodical untangling. “Trust me, I know. That's why I went straight for the elephant tranquillisers, no faffing about.”
That would explain a lot, actually. Newton was fairly resistant to sedation, especially when he was agitated or in pain. He had been hovering on the cusp of complete breakdown when Hermann had finally been allowed in, which made his sudden descent into deep, untroubled sleep unnerving. Hermann had, just possibly, been a little bit afraid that there was something wrong; the explanation certainly took a decent chunk of the anxiety away.
“And you're sure that's safe?” It felt ridiculous to ask, because Jethro was very much invested in their health and wellbeing. “The neurologist said-”
“We're not following his advice on this.” Firm; Jethro's tone was an ultimatum. “His speciality is standard Drift pairs. What you two have isn't anywhere close to standard, so you need a different type of management.”
He made it sound so simple. Hermann didn't quite know what to do with that, because his ‘differences’ had always been classed as a bloody inconvenience at best or deliberate misbehaviour at worst. “People like us… it wasn't allowed.”
Hermann had never been given a diagnosis, because no son of mine, but he knew. He knew that his mind didn't work like the standard model. It had always felt like a bad thing, his abnormality, but there was absolutely no denying that it had been vital, in the Drift. The stereotypical ‘normal person’ would have been wholly incompatible with Newton, for a start.
“You're not the first.” Odd, the way Jethro sounded absolutely certain about that. “But I can safely say that most of the nonstandard Drifts weren't quite like yours. Whatever the fuck that thing Newt made was terrifying, for a start.”
If he was being completely honest with himself, Hermann hadn't really given it that much thought. He had looked at the horrible thing Newton had wired himself into, tried to understand, but the majority of his focus had been on damage control. He'd been more invested in finding out how to stop Newton dying in his damned machine than figuring out the long term ramifications of using it.
Hermann brushed his fingers against the ugly bruise on Newton's forehead. The wound was well on its way to healing, but the discoloration remained. “It never fails to surprise me, how brilliant he really is. It's a double edged sword, though; his most stunning achievements seem to go hand in hand with him destroying himself.”
“He's done enough.” At some point or other, Jethro had crossed the room. Hermann hadn't actually noticed him move, but the absolute massive pillow had to have come from somewhere. “You've both done enough. It's time to heal, now.”
If only it was that simple. Hermann was in no way mentally fortified enough to examine the absolute avalanche of information gained from the Antiverse, but he knew. “There's a great deal still to do. Newton- he might not have been particularly coherent, but he was right; we need to do something about the state of the planet.”
“Right now you have to focus on getting well.” Jethro got the pillow settled on the bed, then ever so carefully nudged Newton over towards it. “Let the rest of us worry about the planet.”
The pillow was apparently to Newton's liking. Even most of the way asleep, he was agreeable to the change in position, and he was soon settled on his side, limbs supported and chest nicely bolstered. It gave Hermann a chance to stretch out his legs, and take some of the pressure off of his pelvis.
“But surely-?”
“Nope.” Apparently Jethro had even more pillows at his disposal; he pulled several of the damned things out of what felt like thin air, and set about getting Hermann comfortable. “You're nowhere near well enough for world saving. Right now you need to focus on healing, and keeping Newt stable.”
In all honesty, Hermann didn't feel well enough for world saving. Granted, he'd been well and truly fucked long before the terrifying war clock rolled down to zero. He really needed to look at figuring out a new scale, because his baseline was just shy of complete mental collapse, of late.
“I don't know what I need.” It was certainly more comfortable, to rest back on an absolute mountain of pillows. It was even better, when Jethro used his enviable strength to reposition Newton so that they were touching all along one side. The largest of the cushions took the majority of his weight, which left Hermann free to get settled.
“You've got a sister. You're close, yeah?” It was a redundant question, because Jethro had assisted Hermann in storage and transport of the samples Karla requested. Still, it was better not to bring that up in conversation.
“Twin sister.” They had been inseparable, once upon a time. Even now, Hermann felt her absence like a thorn; always pricking at him at the most unlikely times.
Jethro smiled, as he pulled the covers up around them. “My advice? Give her a call. You don't have to tell her how you're feeling, or that you're struggling right now, but give her a call.”
A touchstone. Hell, Karla was probably chomping at the bit to interrogate him, by now. He'd been rather preoccupied, so she only knew the bare minimum, and most of it had been via email. “She's half the world away. I don't even know what time it is…”
“Does it matter?” Jethro's tone was vaguely teasing, but his hands were as gentle as ever. “Even if it's the middle of the night where she is, will she care?”
“I-” What a strange thought. Hermann was always so focused on what was socially acceptable, that he sometimes lost track of what Karla in particular would want. “No. She keeps strange hours, but she always wants to speak to me.”
“There you go, then.” A smile from the doctor. Jethro even pulled the tray table closer, so Hermann could access his phone and glasses without stretching too far. “Call your sister. You don't have to tell her anything, but call her.”
“You underestimate her ability to ferret out the truth.” Karla had always been particularly skilled at information gathering, but her talent for sniffing out Hermann's secrets in particular was downright ridiculous. Bloody woman was an unstoppable force of nature. “I've barely escaped the third degree so far.”
Jethro chuckled, as he reached over and placed the nurse call bell on the bed. “You can absolutely use the buzzer if you need a rescue, but I get the feeling that you'll be fine.”
Hermann had absolutely no intention of using the call light; it was for emergencies. Karla was not, nor would she ever be, an emergency that Hermann needed rescuing from.
Although… he had managed to avoid telling her quite how much trouble he'd landed himself in. He would need to come clean, eventually, and tell her everything.
Oh.
Bugger.