mathemagier | IC Contact Post

[As the door opens up, he nearly tips and falls inside, then rights himself and stands, dusting off his rear.]

Whoa, dude, a little warning next time.

[He frowns at the letter and follows Hermann in, bringing with him the pad of paper and pen he had been writing with.]

Oh, too late. I'm pretty sure everyone who's ever met us is convinced you've put me in the doghouse or on the couch for one reason or another.

And what do you mean 'atrocious combination'?

Edited 2015-09-09 05:34 (UTC)

[Bit of a sigh because really, why is this the conclusion everyone jumps to simply because people argue?

Hermann wanders over to his desk where the little pile of letters has been collecting in the corner in a neat stack. He plucks up Newton's most recent 'note' and waves it for emphasis before adding it to the small pile]

Our names, of course. It would make for a terrible introduction or signature.

[He should offer Newton tea or coffee, but Hermann makes it as far as the sofa before he decides sitting back down is a better option]

Kitchen is yours if you want it.

Edited 2015-09-09 05:47 (UTC)

[Newt closes the door behind him, because Hermann isn't inviting just anyone in.

Oh. That.]

Well, then we're going to be one of those ridiculous couples that keep their own names, because I'm not going to introduce myself as Newton Gottlieb. We don't need more Dr. Gottliebs in the world, thanks.

[He wandered into the kitchen.]

Going to make some tea, then. Want any?

No, we certainly do not.

[The house barely felt big enough for him and his father, let alone anyone else]

I'll take a cup, thank you.

[Hermann sets to work on flexing his fingers to keep his dominant hand from cramping up. It's the last thing he needs on a day like this and much as he'd enjoyed their exchange, he's somewhat relieved that it's come to a close for now]

...You're not insane, Newton.

Sure thing.

[He fussed with putting water on to boil and finding them cups, not looking back out at Hermann as he responded.]

Of course not. I-I never said I was.

[Faint surprise. Cautious relief. Gratitude.]

[Hermann nods at his back, eyes back on the thumb massaging his palm. It's the one thing he couldn't address through their exchange. Even now, through Newton's gratitude, he feels like it's still not enough.

Just as he's not 'pathetic', he can't help but remember those feelings and the brief hesitance he'd felt placing 'Dr.' before his name on that missive. But at least they can assure each other that they don't believe it]

Did you want to attempt any experiment in particular?

[He briefly caught 'pathetic' through the connection and looked up. He hated Lars, hated those bullies, hated himself for not being more understanding--Hermann was tough, he was brave... Someday they would both silence the bullies in the back of their heads.

Funny. He never thought the positive voice in his head would be Hermann's.]

What are you up for? Because it's been a busy couple of days and we don't have to push for experiments. This isn't the war.

[He poured the water over the teabags, spooned in sugar, and brought the cups out to Hermann.]

But I'm totally game for any thought sharing. What kind of things do they make Jaeger pilots do? Or is it just the Kwoon?

[He frowns after Newton's anger, idly wondering the source while he considers their options. In truth, he doesn't know what else to do with Newton here.

Hermann accepts his tea with a flicker of a smile]

I can't say; neither of us made it past that point. I was exempted from combat training as soon as they ran my numbers.

[That had stung a bit, but was to be expected. He'd only just managed to slip through the first few weeks without drawing attention to himself. If not for their desperation and his brain, he doubts they would've kept him at all]

I know they run a simulation before the pilots enter a Jaeger for the first time, but we can't exactly replicate that.

[It went without saying that psych evals nixed any chance Newt had to be a pilot, not that it had ever been his goal. He had joined specifically for science, for the Kaiju. And maybe a little bit because that was what all the cool scientists were doing. At least the cool one he was penpalling with.

Newt sits and offers a supportive smile.]

We drifted with a MacGyvered Pons. We can definitely slap together our own Drift training program, too.

What about empath stuff? Granted, it's kind of hard to play detect-that-emotion since we'll have to work ourselves up to feeling that emotion. You get the most feedback, I think. What am I doing when you get a ping off me? What do you think I can replicate here?

[He nods, It makes the most sense; Newton's more likely to project emotion than he is. But how can they test anything? He mulls this over and lets the warmth of the teacup seep into his palms]

Nothing unusual.. Though I suspect our thought sharing may be linked to emotion. At least it seems to be the case that picking up concepts is easier when they're emotional responses.

[Newt chews his lip and considers that.]

That makes it hard to replicate. It's kind of a gamble, a crap shoot, if we just have to keep rolling our emotional dice until we land on something useful.

[He gives a sly smile and glances sideways at Hermann, half smirk half guilty, the look of a Newt prepared to do something possibly kind of dumb for science.]

How dangerous do you think it would be to intentionally chase a RABIT?

[Hermann knows that look, and he's immediately apprehensive, regarding Newton with a pinched expression]

I don't know, Newton. Our drift is far from ordinary.. We're not likely to drown in memories, but there's still potential to become lost in them, and we lack a device to act as our fail-safe.

But I suppose our unintentional experiment yesterday went well enough.. If one of us can initiate a memory and remain aware enough to draw back to the present, perhaps. I wouldn't trust concurrent memories without something to bring us back, however.

Edited 2015-09-09 17:17 (UTC)

Okay, okay, so we'll do this. I just have think really hard about something emotional, right?

[...while probably avoiding something with Hermann and definitely avoiding something now. Something safe, almost sterile, positive. Free from triggers. A museum trip? School was out. Newt just had to psych himself up for it.]

You gave me a nice one. Wanna put in an order, or want to just see what you get?

[Hermann shrugs, willing to play along with this at least]

I have no preference, just make certain it's something neither of us would be in danger of latching onto.

[And it strikes him again as strange that this is something they can casually do. It's a wonder they don't disrupt each other's daily lives more than they do]

Right. I know. God, I'm not stupid Hermann. I don't want to get caught in that spiral either.

[Deep breath. Newt wiped his palms on his jeans and closed his eyes. Ready, go. Don't fuck up. Think about...dinosaurs. Yeah, that was awesome, when you corrected the tour guide. That's a good one.

He was having trouble focusing on one thought. Newt's thoughts had never been linear or isolated. They existed as strings, nebulas of interrelated ideas and associations. It reminded him of Pong, once you'd broken enough bricks to send the ball up above the wall, to ping around on the other side, rebounding off the bricks and the ceiling of the screen, back and forth along details until it found a hole again to come down...sometimes back on point, back to the paddle. It meant his stories rambled, got lost, maybe meant sense to him only.

As he concentrated on a memory--with his uncle in the museum of natural history, the dinosaurs, diagrams of their evolution, his giddiness--it tugged him on to another thought, another association. Dinosaurs... Sitting in a darkened theater with his dad, the smell of buttered, salted popcorn, the fizz of Coke on his tongue, Milk Duds, his feet not touching the floor, getting folded up in the seat, having to pee. Godzilla at a special outdoor screening, wet grass, rough wool blanket. This wasn't what he wanted to show Hermann, he wanted to be cool, wanted to impress him. Impress Hermann. Tying up a tie, god it looks like crap but hair looks good, too dorky in these glasses, to show the tatts or not, what if he doesn't like me, I want to be cool. Play it cool, don't cry. She's flying to Paris today, but it's my birthday, she promised. Don't cry. Get out from under the bed. I didn't want to go to the opera anyway. I looked good. Dad bought me a new shirt. So grown up. She'll like me better when I'm grown up. No, dad, I don't need a hug; I'm a big kid. I even tied the tie myself. Why doesn't she like me? Did I disappoint her? The bittersweet sounds of Carmen's Habanera.]

[At first there's nothing, just flickers of thought like indecision. Hermann's patient, eyes closing like it might help both of them focus. It's only their second attempt after all, and the first had been unintentional.

The feelings are subtle at first, like something he could blink away from. He gets impressions, salt in his mouth, discomfort, Godzilla because of course. There's a spike in nerves that almost succeeds in forcing his eyes open. The images flash by like the drift until it settles into one place.

The crushing despair is as unexpected as the sudden sting in his eyes. Music plays like some sort of soundtrack, and the notes are nostalgic and heartbreaking at once. Was this what Newton wanted to share? He doubts it.]

Newton?

[He doesn't know if he says the name or thinks it aloud in the memory. The boy- because Hermann instinctively knows Newton is young in this memory- is nowhere in sight. The man he knows to be Jacob is though, coaxing his son out from under a bed in a room that's strangely familiar.

Is this the RABIT? The words are definitely a thought this time.

Jacob doesn't see him as he shuffles to the side for a better look at the glassy-eyed Newton, and he wonders if he's only lingering as a ghost in this memory. If he tried the door, would it open? Would he go through it? Would there be a hallway there, or lead in to a different memory?

Hermann focuses until he can force his eyes open in the present to take in his drift partner's distress. With great effort, he leans out to set his tea on the coffee table, then reaches across for one of Newton's balled up fists. But this, it turns out, is a mistake.

The second his fingers make contact with Newton's knuckles, he's there. Not just an observer, but Newton himself along with an entire torrent of emotions that leave him shuddering, gasping for breath, wiping his eyes and trying to see through both his tears and unaided vision. His mother's in Paris- or Germany? Gone, left him, her career is more important, he's not good enough-

Gott, no. He scrambles for a foothold in Newton's mind, something separate.

His leg. No cane. A kind man that isn't his father- far too dangerous, don't go there, dont-]

Newton... Newton... Newt, this is only a memory. You're going.. to drag us both in.

[Newt isn't even aware of the Drift, nor is he aware of Hermann: his voice, his hand, his presence in the Drift or his presence as part of Newt once they've touched.

His young self has enough knowledge but not enough wisdom in him to fully comprehend the situation, and he's not sure he ever will. He wanted her attention, her love, her time, her company. He wanted her to pet his hair and tell him she missed him, listen to him (she didn't even have to understand, dad doesn't understand, no one understands), hold him, acknowledge him. They didn't have to go to the opera. She didn't have to buy him a cake or ice cream or sing 'Happy Birthday'... Just a hug. All he wanted from her was a hug.

His father asks him, with a tired but patient voice, what he can do for Newt.

Make her come back. His voice breaks because it's always broken and it's broken with his tears and Newt gives in and lets his father hug him to his chest--the solid warmth, the scent of his cologne and shaving cream, the press of the buttons of his shirt against Newt's face, the wetness of Newt's nose and tears on the fabric--

A flicker of disruption in his memory and he sees Lars Gottlieb, just briefly, more of a thought and feeling than a face-- And then it's anger, at Lars, at Monica, at himself for losing it and it's the jarringly incorrect Newt from Hermann that is the final nudge over the edge, like the feeling of falling that kicks you awake.

Newt looks around, dazed and scared and confused as to where he was, then embarrassed and exposed, and pulls back from Hermann, ready to crawl under the bed or hide in the basement or flee to the bathroom to lock himself in and never come out like the pathetic child he was.]

[The present is startling relief from the crushing emotion pouring out of a distraught child. He still feels it like a physical thing, a vice-grip on his heart that's slowly easing, but the memory of Newton's heartbreak will linger.

His eyes are wet, and Hermann tugs up a cuff over his palm to forcibly dry them. He feels like a mess and it's too much, can't reach out to Newton because it might not be safe. But they're here, not lost, and that's enough for now.

And despite how much Newton looks like he's in need of it, he has no sympathy or assurances to give him. Not now, when he wants nothing more than to withdraw from the emotional tumult that is Newton and stabilize his own]

We are not.. doing that again.

[Hermann's tears are terrifyingly familiar and new and Newt starts crying then, too, overwhelmed by his own multitude of emotions. It's no resolution and he still wants to hide because, fuck, he's a wreck, he's such a wreck, what does Hermann think of him now? He's a disappointment and a screw up and, god Hermann don't cry, please don't. Newt doesn't have sorries enough--

But those words are an echoing gavel of finality and Newt can't take it. He hates and resents a door slammed in his face and instead of flight, Hermann kicks up the anger and fight still in him. It pisses him off--mostly because it is his own fault that they've hit this roadblock and he refuses to let it be his brain--he is NOT crazy--that makes this thing between them not work. Newt grabs a throw pillow and lobs it over Hermann's shoulder and towards the wall with something like a screech.]

FUCK NO! You are NOT the only vote here, Hermann, and that was MY memory, my fault! If I want to go again, we're going again! You do not get to be the only one this worked for-- If we didn't give up against the Kaiju, we're not giving up now.

[He impulsively reached for Hermann, sniffed, and managed an angry, teary determination.] Fuck it. Gimme your hand. I'll get it right.

[The pillow sails past him in a fit of either poor aim or some remnant of consideration. He's not sure which he prefers in the moment.

Hermann snatches his hand back and holds both of them against his chest, levels Newton with a glare that feels ineffective in the wake of tears. Other parts of him are easily within reach of course, and he doesn't know the extent of the rules about contact]

No, Newton! For god's sake, this isn't just about you. We're both volatile, and this was a terrible idea.

[He glares, more at Hermann's hands than at the man himself and wipes his nose on the back of his own hand.]

Why? Why's it terrible? Because I'm in here making a MESS, spilling my GUTS on your side of the brain-line?

It's only a terrible idea because it was MY idea and because it didn't just work. [Bitterly.] You always shit on my ideas. If it worked, it'd be an excellent idea and we'd be patting ourselves on the back-- !!

We're both volatile ALL THE TIME, Hermann. It's who we ARE. We worked with that before.

Because we were both put through a great deal of trauma not two days ago!

[Himself more than Newton, and he'd argue that was a bit worse than this experience]

And we've never dealt with it on this scale before. We don't know the worst-case scenario, and have nothing in place should something happen. This is me disagreeing with your methodology, because it's unnecessarily reckless.

No, if you want to try again, it will be without touching me. If we can succeed there consistently, then perhaps I may be swayed. Else, you'll need to build a fail-safe before we try this again.

[Newt dropped his glare to his own lap, guilty, remorseful. Yeah, ok, he shouldn't have pushed Hermann so hard. He just...forgot the world when he was with Hermann. Like he was wearing blinders; it was dumb, so easy to get caught up in their own world. But he had been reckless, okay, he could agree there. That didn't mean he was happy with Hermann's rules.]

Fail-safe, Hermann? What do you want? An off-switch for my brain?

And you might recall--you touched me.

[The edge of his temper wanes with that concession, and he relaxes his hands from his chest where they unconsciously rub and clasp together.]

Yes, before I was aware it would worsen the situation. Had I known that, we could have begun with attempting thought sharing in such a fashion.

For a fail-safe, it just needs to be something that could snap us back to the present. A timed sensory trigger perhaps.

Edited 2015-09-10 05:36 (UTC)

[Newt sniffle-laughs and wipes at his eyes.] A timed sensory trigger. You nerd. You want me to cue up Edith Piaf for you? [But seriously, what could they use? Newt flopped over on the couch and regretted tossing away the pillow now. He wanted something to hold and suddenly missed the plush monsters that resided on his bed around the time of that memory.]

Well, we could use a headset. Not like I really heard you when I was deep in the RABIT hole, but I could see a loud noise or--[Gasp! He waved a finger at Hermann as an idea struck] --or a shock! We could zap ourselves! Like one of those dumb flyswatters? Short jolt and we're out? I'm sure we could rig it to be timed...! Two minutes then...

[Pause.] ...Herm. [Newt nudged him in the foot with the toe of his boot.] You okay? I-I didn't mean for you to see all that. ...I'm sorry.

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