#but in the meantime. and specifically to shoutout this account in particular. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

demonsonthemoon · 6 years ago

Text

Veni, Vedi - Chapter 3

Fandom: Pacific Rim Pairings: Eventual Newt/Hermann/Vanessa Word Count: 7611 Summary: Everything changed after they collapsed the Breach. Newt lost the thing he had dedicated his life to. Hermann lost all of his certainties, and gained a family. Vanessa found something to hope for again. And, somehow, all of their lives got tangled together.

Also available on AO3.

HERMANN

In the days that followed Operation Pitfall, Hercules Hansen took chage of the PPDC. It was amazing how quickly the money flooded back into their hands, now that the War was over and the government needed to make themselves look good to their citizens again. The Jaeger programm was no longer a failing system that had disappointed the population. It was a heroic group of people who had made enormous sacrifices to save all of humanity. It had once again reached its previous status as a symbol of international solidarity. Any politician in their right mind obviously wanted a piece of that.

The heads of every PPDC division – which included Newt and Hermann as leaders of K-Science - had been invited to a meeting with United Nations representatives. The general response to this invitation had been a despising scoff. Although most people agreed that the PPDC would still have a role to play in the coming years, the Wall of Life disaster had created a rift between the organisation and world governments. This meant they would have to find a way to establish the PPDC as an international institution without government support, and Hermann didn't envy Marshall Hansen the task.

Diplomacy had never been Hermann's forte.

Still, the United Nations invitation had urged him and Newton to seek out the Marshall for a private meeting on the future of K-Science in particular.

“I'm not gonna beat around the bush here,” Newton started in his usually brash manner. “But like... We need to keep K-Sci running. This division should be a priority and I know I've been saying this for years, but it's important.”

Marshall Hansen started rubbing his forehead, as if warding off an incoming headache. It was how Hermann often thought about Newton too.

“I know, Dr. Geiszler. I know and, trust me, I'm going to do my best to keep this Shatterdome running so you can access your lab but... Realistically, this base is going to be shut down sooner than later.”

“You don't understand.” Newton was already raising his voice, but Hermann couldn't really fault him. Drifting with the Hivemind had kept alive in them the sense of urgency that most people had lost with the news of their victory. “I know we've all been looking the other way and celebrating and that's fine, that's normal, we're all human beings who enjoy the-world-is-no-longer-ending parties, but the Breach? The Breach was opened on purpose by beings from another world. Was opened. Like... it didn't do it on its own. The Precursors? If they really want to invade this world, they won't stop now. They'll open a new Breach. They'll send new kaiju. Or something else. Something worse. We might have closed one Breach, but they know where to find us.” Newton stopped, needing to find his breath again. He turned to Hermann, who had previously been standing silently beside him.

“Dr. Geiszler is right. The possibility that a new Breach will open is well above zero. And if we want to be able to defend ourselves... K-Science is still one of our best assets.”

“See? Even Hermann agrees with me. If this doesn't tell you how important this division is, I don't know what will.”

Hermann rolled his eyes. He happened to agree with Newton quite often, but the man was absolutely insufferable everytime he let him know.

“Also, in my case specifically, we have to act quickly. We have a very limited amount of kaiju samples, and they can corrupt over time. I mean, shoutout to the people in Vladivostok 'cause they revolutionised organ preservation, but even their technique isn't perfect. And that's without taking into account the fact that a lot of the samples we get are already damaged by bad storage conditions before they get to us. So what I mean is...”

Newton trailed off then, and turned towards Hermann.

“We need help,” he continued after a pause. “We need funds. We need time. We need facilities. We need people. There's too much at stakes here for Hermann and me to be handling it on our own, and we...”

He trailed off again. This time, Hermann knew what Newt wanted him to say.

“We need to rest.”

Newton looked grateful. Hermann understood where the feeling was coming from. They had both been working for so long with barely any time for themselves, and in those days they had been okay with it, they had even been thankful. They had been given a chance to continue their work, the most important work of their lives, and they were determined not to waste that opportunity. But now... Now it was dawning on them both how painful it had all been. But that was difficult to say out loud. It was very hard to admit that they were human after all.

“I hear what you're saying, doctors,” Marshall Hansen replied with a sigh. He looked much too human himself in this moment. “I hear what you're saying, and trust me when I say that I'm going to try to keep your division running in the best possible conditions for as long as I can. But the chance is still very high that we won't be able to afford keeping things as they are. You deserve my total honesty, so I'll say it plainly: your best bet right now is to make arrangements to transfer your research to academic circles.” Hermann and Newton shared a glance. They had both worked within academia before, they knew very well what the limits of that system were. “I admire you both. I know you're not military to your core, but you stayed with the PPDC until the end, despite awful conditions, because you believed in what we were doing. You saved us. I admire you, and I'm glad to hear that you're devoted to continuing this work. But you also both have lives outside of this. And I can't ask you to put them on hold any longer.”

“But,” Newton blurted out. “We just told you! There's so much work to-”

“I told you that I heard what you were saying, Dr. Geiszler. But there's no way we'll be able to support or pay our K-Science division for much more than a month, at least not if we want to stay independent. And definitely not if we need to hire more people to help. We're working on alternatives. But in the meantime I would advise you to finish what you absolutely need to do here and then leave. We'll stay in touch with you. Trust me, by now we know how valuable you are.”

Newton was still fuming. Hermann knew that he had hoped to secure the promise that a new team would join them, so that they could pass on their research while they took some time to visit their family, and then get back to work as usual. Instead he had been told that he had even less time than they'd expected, and that they were on their own.

Hermann put a hand on one of his shoulders, and felt Newton immediately relax. He frowned slightly, but stayed in place, turning towards Marshall Hansen. He was watching them both with understanding in his eyes, though Hermann couldn't be sure what that understanding was directed at.

“Thank you for your time,” Hermann said.

Marshall Hansen nodded, and Hermann did the same. He turned to leave, Newt in tow.

It was late enough that they could have headed to the mess hall for dinner, but Hermann thought they needed to have a private conversation. So he lead them to their lab instead. As they walked, the sound of his cane echoed through the empty halls.

It had only been three days.

Only three days, and already people had started leaving. Enough people that it was noticeable.

When they finally entered the lab, Newton immediately went to his side of it, turning his back on Hermann to pick up some notes that had been left haphazard on his desk.

It took him a moment to notice Hermann's gaze on his neck.

“What?” He snapped.

Hermann stilled. “I wanted to speak with you.”

“Sure,” Newton replied with fake cheer before leaning back against his deck in a poor imitation of casualness. “What's up?”

“We can't go on like this.”

“Of course,” Newton said, before turning away and ignoring him once more.

Hermann forced himself not to start shouting immediately, forced himself to think of another way for this to go.

“I'm not against you in this, Newton. You know that. I've never been against you.”

“You sure have a nice way to show it!” The other man snarled, not bothering to look in his direction.

Hermann froze under the assault of a memory, under the sound of his own voice: And that is when he goes... completely insane. He heard it and felt the words bite at his skin, because they reminded him of so many times the same adjective had been used to describe him, but also because they came from Hermann, Hermann, who was supposed to get it, who was supposed to be better than all of them.

“I didn't mean it like that. You know I didn't.”

“I don't know shit, Hermann!” Newton shouted, finally looking back. “I don't know shit anymore because all of my thoughts are jumbled up with yours and memories of the kaiju, and figuring out where all these different urges come from, figuring out what I actually think takes an eternity and it's driving me up the wall because I need to be able to think! That's all I'm freaking good for! And I can't do it anymore!”

“I know! Do you think it's not the same with me? Do you think it doesn't scares me too, all the things I know about you? All the things I know about the kaijus? But that's why you need to listen!” They were both shouting now, and that felt familiar, reassuring. But a fight wasn't what Hermann was looking for. “You won't get anywhere by acting like this. By lashing out. We both need to take time and figure out how we can fix ourselves before we can do any work of value.”

“Oh my god, Hermann, I can't believe I have to say this. We're not broken. Like, theoretically? We're better know. We're two people with massive intellects, possibly the two best scientists of our generation, and now we have access to each other's knowledge and that should make us amazing. That's how it's supposed to work. But no, instead we're just two idiots left shouting at each other because we can't work anymore and all the cool side-effects have been replaced by horrible PTSD and they're taking our lab and...”

“NEWTON!” Hermann interrupted his colleague's rambling before it turned into a full-on monologue. This wasn't how he wanted things to go. He was tired of the fights, as comforting as they felt. “We drifted with a kaiju. We drifted with a kaiju using substandard equipment and while already exhausted and on edge. You did it twice. Of course it's going to have consequences. Of course these consequences will be unpleasant.”

“I know! I'm not an idiot, damnit,” Newton said, stepping closer and right into Hermann's comfort zone. “But right now I need to be able to work. Because nobody else is going to get this done, and because we don't have enough time, and because I'm not myself if I'm not working. Because if I stop working I'll start missing a wife I don't actually have, Hermann! If I stop working, I'll start thinking about how I haven't seen my mother in fifteen years, my dad in eight, and how my uncle died three years ago and I was enough of an idiot to think that making the trip overseas for his funeral wasn't worth it, so what kind of home does that leave me with except for here?”

Hermann could feel Newt's pain, his anger. Anger at his mother for leaving him when he was a child, for becoming a distant relative, a stranger he was scared he still felt indebted to. Disappointment, too. Guilt. Grief for his uncle's death, for the one man who had ever truly managed to make him understand what home and family meant. For the man who had taken him in when he had moved to the States to go to MIT, the man who had listened to him like he was brilliant instead of just weird. And pain, pain caused by the realisation that time had passed, that he would see his father again and they would be strangers to one another.

So that was where Hermann's own bitterness at the idea of going home came from. It was Newton's.

That was what it meant to be connected by the Drift. That was what pilots meant when they talked of becoming something bigger than themselves. But did they all feel so lost? Torn between two halves of who they had become, not knowing where to turn to find who they used to be, not knowing whether it would even be worth it?

“Then let's talk,” Hermann pleaded. “Let's figure things out together. I'm confused too, Newton, and we won't ever be able to leave the War behind if we don't sort out this confusion first. And that means we can't lock each other out. So let's talk.”

“But what do we say, Hermann? What could we possibly say to each other? We've never known how to actually talk.”

They crossed gaze, and the anger dropped as quickly as it had risen. They both knew what Newton was talking about. They both knew he was referencing the time when they did know how to communicate, the time of their written correspondance, of long and thought-out e-mails as well as short hurried ones, because they had needed to share things. They had needed for someone to understand.

Hermann tightened his grip on his cane. This was still a moment of his life he did not like to think about. The wound was still fresh, in a way. It re-opened with each of their arguments. It manifested again in the bitter taste of disappointment every time they started shouting, because they knew they could never be what the other had expected from them.

“We can find a way.”

The saddest thing, to Hermann, was that they hadn't tried until then. NEWT

The halls of the Shatterdome got emptier and emptier over time, but the lab was still the same. Every day Newton would come in and find Hermann already there, revising his theories again and again, fingers covered in chalk. It was an anchor. A proof that they could go on without leaving everything behind. Newt feared the blank page. He feared stepping into a new world he didn't know anything about anymore. And so he held on tight.

They had tried to follow Hermann's advice, tried to talk to each other more, about their respective memories and what they had seen in the drift. It had worked and it hadn't, both at the same time. Sharing things out of the blue still felt impossible, unnatural. They were too used to confrontations, too used to communicating through shouting matches for years and years. They were too used to keeping their deepest selves secret.

It was almost an instinctive reaction, in the face of the drift and all that it had revealed, to want to lock the other out, keep as much as possible in. Newt thought he was ready to dabble in philosophy, after such an experience, wondering if the essence of the self was not built on secrets, on what was never shared with the Other.

But when Newt felt lost, when he couldn't tell if what he was feeling was truly himself or not, when he needed someone to tell him who he was or walk him through his ideas, Hermann would be there. And Newt would be there for him in return, when pretending that they were completely separate beings became too hard.

Those conversations always felt like they were taking place out of time. They were little moments that happened in another reality, to different people. Small moments where their minds overlapped before being forced to finally break apart for good.

Two weeks after Pitfall, Newt finally thought his brain had stabilized slightly. It no longer felt like it was filled with goo, like every thought he formed was too slow and precise to ever lead anywhere. His work was finally going somewhere.

Hansen had refused to give him permission to loot Hannibal Chau's lab, but one day three new jars of perfectly conserved organs were waiting for him in a corner of his and Hermann's shared lab. There was even a whole lung, in almost pristine condition!

It was difficult to stay focused on one area of research only, but given their limited time, he had figured out that his research on the kaiju's DNA and how they were built was the most important. If their genetic codes were so similar, there had to be a way for him to find a logic in their difference. And if he managed to do that, he might manage to find a weakness, one that would apply to all kaiju. And that would mean they would be prepared if the Breach ever opened again.

When the Breach opened again.

The Precursors would not stop. They would not stop for the same reason that the PPDC hadn't stopped, even when world governments started abandonning them one by one. They would not stop because they were desperate. Their world was dying. Their world was dying, and Earth was ripe, was there, was almost perfect for them.

They would not stop. They would be back.

This certainty kept Newt awake at night, lost in a sea of conflicting feelings that even Hermann, shouldn't, couldn't know about.

There was a space missing inside his thoughts, and that space was the size of another world. He longed for it, and he was terrified of it. The promise of knowledge and of belonging crystallised in his mind in the shape of Otachi and its luminescent tongue. Something fascinating, awe-inspiring, and something that could kill him. Something that could kill not just Jaeger pilots. Not just random civilians. It could actually kill him, Newton Geiszler.

And this thing, this monster that his human fears took the shape of... It was scared of the precursors.

Newt shivered. From across the lab, Hermann threw him a look, probably wondering whether this was a memory they had to talk about. But Newt wasn't confused. Just scared shitless. So he shook his head.

Then, a week later, Hermann said he would be leaving.

Newt knew it had to happen, of course he did. Hermann had a wife to go back to. He had a family, and much of his work could be done easily from home. He didn't need as many tools as Newt. He had no reason to stay here. So when Hermann announced that Vanessa had found an apartment and that he would be moving back to Berlin in a few days, Newt just nodded.

“That's nice. I'm happy for you both.”

Hermann looked away for a second, as if gathering his thoughts or his courage. Then he reached inside of his pocket and handed Newt a piece of paper.

“You already know how to contact me. But... if you ever find yourself in Berlin...”

He trailed off, and Newt looked up at him. Hermann's face was blank, as if he was forcing his emotions not to betray him. Newt opened the piece of paper to find a postal adress scrawled inside.

This felt like an olive branch. This felt like an admission that there had never been any true war between them.

“Okay,” he said to Hermann, and put the piece of paper in his back pocket. The other man nodded, and crossed the lab again, going back to work.

Newt tried to focus on his microscope. He really did. But his thoughts kept going back to the adress on a piece of paper, and to what Hermann might have meant by it. Was Newt suppose to... drop by and visit? Have dinner with Hermann's wife and pretend he didn't know how she drank her coffee or what she sounded like when she orgasmed? Was he supposed to talk to them about the weather, about politics? Was he supposed to pretend that he and Hermann shared a normal relationship, that they were work friends, that they hadn't shared each other's memories, hadn't broken each other's hearts, didn't have so much history between them?

In truth, Newt knew what this address was for. It was in case he needed it. And he didn't want to need it. He was a grown man, a scientist, a genius. He would be fine on his own. He and Hermann had been forced together for seven years, but it was time for each of them to go their own way. This was how it had always been supposed to happen.

Four days later, Newt came into the lab and it was empty. He settled down to work, and got distracted enough that an hour passed.

And then he realised that Hermann wasn't there, and his brain immediately jumped to the most far-fetched conclusion. Something must have happened to him, he must have been kidnapped, he must have been-

And then Newt realised.

Oh. Right.

Today was the big day. He had the lab to himself now. He could do as he pleased, put his music on as loud as he wanted to.

Did he want to?

Newt felt himself be drawn to Hermann's side of the lab. His chalkboards had been erased, because of course Hermann would clean up before he left. Of course.

Newt picked up a piece of chalk and twirled it between his fingers. Calculations were running through his mind. Still - the piece of chalk only a few milimeters away from the board – he dropped it again.

They were moving on. This was good. This was the right thing.

Hermann had grown restless, distracted, over the past few days. He would write and re-write the same equation over and over, or get lost in memories. Newt had had to intervene when he had seen Hermann try to draw a graph with his left hand, even though he was right-handed.

Newt had told him to get his shit together, and of course it had evolved into a shouting match, but he was confident that they had both felt much better afterwards.

Hermann had needed to leave. In the same way that Newt still needed more time to make peace with the place, Hermann had needed less. And wasn't that a paradox?

Newt had been the one who had hated the military, who had delayed joining until it had been obvious that they were the organisation who would provide the most useful research facilities, and make the most of his work. Newt had been the one who had never been able to feel comfortable within the PPDC's rigid hierarchy, who had resented calling people by their position and done all he could to make his opinions clear about all of that. Hermann, on the other hand, had liked the sense of organisation, the idea of fitting within a broader mechanism. He liked the sense of certainty and order than came from it. Hermann had liked the feeling of security that came with hierarchy that worked with you, and Newt had snapped at him, telling him that that was only because he had never known how hard it was to have it work against you.

(But that wasn't entirely true, because Hermann was Lars Gottlieb's son, because he had been as much of a weird child as Newt, because he was a disabled man navigating a society never built with him in mind. Newt could realise now how stupid he had been to ignore all of that.)

Still. Hermann had fitted in easily. Newt had rebelled. Now Hermann was gone, and Newt was terrified to leave.

Newt stood up. He was thinking too much. Which should have been a relief, because it meant his brain felt like his own again, but was also more an annoyance than anything else right now. He turned towards the musical corner of the lab, a half-forgotten dust-covered place in which he had dumped his keyboard and guitar because there wasn't enough space in his room. Tendo had once brought a small amp, a mic, and its stand, half as a joke, and they had ended up organising a J-Tech/K-Science karaoke that Newt was sure held a high place in a lot of personal histories.

He powered up the laptop he kept there, an old thing that took ages to boot up, but which held all of his music collection.

They had used to have a system, when there were a dozen of them in the lab, where people would be able to choose what music played for half a day in turns. But somehow, the whole thing had been abandoned and had given place to silence once it had only been him and Hermann left. When he was feeling particularly restless, Newt would still use his headphones, but he hadn't played anything on speakers for months.

He put on an old playlist of his, and started singing along to the pop-punk song that came through. Under his breath at first, then louder, realising once again that he could. It felt like a bitter sort of freedom, but it was enough to keep him distracted, at least.

He had saved the world. He was a rockstar, he thought while setting up new samples for analysis. This was his thing, averting the apocalypse through science. And he was going to do it again, because nobody else seemed ready to, because nobody else seemed to take the threat of a Breach re-opening seriously. He would show them. When the Breach re-opened, he would be there and he would show them and-

Wait, no. He would stop it. He would definitely stop it.

Part of Newt wanted to lock himself into his room and scream at the mere idea of new kaiju coming through. Another part wanted them to come, to find him, to fill the giant hole left in his thoughts. Tapping into the kaiju hivemind had felt like flying. Like an adrenalin rush, like a drug. Like having his narrow mind torn apart only to expand in unimaginable ways and find that he belonged. And then the Breach had been closed and he had been told that this drug wasn't on the market anymore, that he would have to keep his feet on the ground from now on, sorry dude.

He looked at the cloned DNA in his hand and had to focus very hard on why it would be terribly stupid to try and replicate it. He put his music on louder.

An hours later, he was trying to cross-reference his findings with an old report from the xenobiology department in Anchorage when a loud cough right behind him made him jump from his chair. Newt turned around. He was certain he must look like a deer caught in headlights.

Hermann was standing right in front of him, wearing his trademark collared shirt and sweater combo and looking very unimpressed.

“I came to say goodbye.”

The words were like a cold shower. Newt quickly gestured for Hermann to stay still while he went and turned off the music. The lab was filled with silence once more. Newt turned back around.

Something that had felt wrong all morning was finally set right. Newt realised that he hadn't believed Hermann would leave without a goodbye, and that this was why it had felt so wrong not to find him there in the morning. Something that had been tense inside of Newt had finally snapped, and he was able to breathe easily once more.

Except, now that Hermann was here... this was the end. This was adieu. This meant no more shouting matches, no more steaming tea left on his desk in the middle of a rough night, no more familiar smell of chalk and cigarette and old clothes.

They were staring at each other, and Newt started moving from foot to foot.

“So, uh...”

“I...”

They had started speaking at the exact same moment, and Newt giggled childishly. He pointed at his head. “Drift Compatible'd.”

It brought a smile to Hermann's lips.

Newt himself didn't know why he found it so funny. Maybe it had to do with the triviality of the thing. The habits they had picked up from each other as a consequence of the drift had all felt scary, too big, too wrong. This was... silly. Inconsequential. Nice, in a way. Intimate. Knowing that their lives didn't have to revolve only around the huge and terrible things, like they had for so long, was comforting. They could have this. Maybe it would even be easy.

“Indeed,” Hermann nodded. “Keep in touch with me, Newton. We don't...” Hermann looked away slightly. “We don't have to go back to total silence.”

And Newt understood. Just like him, Hermann could hear the quiet in their thoughts.

“I have your e-mail.”

“You do.” Hermann looked around the lab. For the last time. “Thank you, Newt.”

And with that, he turned and started leaving.

Newt instinctively reached out, trying to stop him, to delay him. Grappling for a touch, for a handshake, for a hug. For something more than those three words left hanging like a door half-open and still somehow locked forever. But he drew back his hand.

“You have my e-mail too, asshole!” Newt shouted instead. “And say hi to your wife for me!”

Hermann didn't reply, but stopped in his tracks for half a second. And that was enough.

Once the door was closed, Newt started his music again and went back to work. And if he had to stop working at one point in the afternoon because he could remember a warm hand against his arm, full lips against his and a feminine voice whispering I love you over and over again as a body wrapped around him and made him feel whole, made him feel like his pieces fit, if Newt had to stop working for a little while because he could feel himself getting hard for a woman he didn't know, well... That was fine. That was the kind of thing that happened when you saved the world. Surely Mako had the same problem all the time, her and that giant blond puppy of hers.

VANESSA

She wasn't sure if she had been crying before she saw him or not. But the tears felt like relief rushing down her face, and when he wrapped his arms around her body, Hermann was crying too.

Vanessa pressed her head against his shoulders and breathed in, trying to find something familiar in the smell of sweat and dirt hanging around her husband's clothes. She took a step back after a while, rubbing against her eyes carefully so that her contacts wouldn't be dislodged, then looked at Hermann. His eyes were red from tears too, and tired from six hours of flight. But he smiled at her as they looked at each other, a smile private and sheepish that she had cherished since the first day she had earned it.

“I missed you,” she said, stating the obvious because sometimes you needed that, you needed to say the simple things to remember they were real. She felt her husband cling to her jacket, as if trying to convince himself that she was real. “I love you.”

“I missed you too, Vanessa.”

She smiled, an easy, happy smile. The kind of smile that came to your lips unconsciously when you exchanged a greeting with your crush. It was an exhilarating feeling, being in love and being together. She took Hermann's hand in one of hers and one of his suitcases in the other and started walking. They took a taxi back to their new place, because Vanessa didn't own a car.

Even seated, their joined hands was a point of contact that radiated warmth through her whole body.

They weren't usually this tactile, either of them, but she could feel that Hermann was holding on as tightly as her. Because this is what they'd been missing all these years, the certainty of another's body against one's own.

“I hope you'll like the new place. It's not fancy or anything. But there's an extra room, for an office or a nursery. The living-room is kind of small, but there's a nice view and...” She felt Hermann squeeze her hand. “Sorry. I'm babbling.”

“It's okay,” Hermann replied. He was looking at her like she was a wonder of the universe, a fountain at which he was drinking. All the useless things she wanted to say – she had a habit of babbling when she was nervous – stayed stuck inside of her throat. “I've missed listening to you talk. But you don't need to worry. I've lived in Shatterdome rooms for years now. As long as I have a window I'll be fine.”

It had been five months since they had last seen each other. Five months of hell, for her. Five months of waiting, of feeling useless, now with the added bonus of nausea caused by her pregnancy. But surely five months of hell for him too, five months of desperate work, of retreating inside himself without anyone around to get him out, five months of constant fear.

“Windows. I knew there was something I had forgotten,” she joked.

He rolled his eyes at her, fondly. “You're a terrible person.”

“I know, I do my best.” The cab stopped in front of an apartment block in East Berlin. Vanessa paid the fare, since Hermann only had Hong Kong dollars on him and they watched the car take off. They turned around, and walked to the door of the building. “I couldn't find anything on the ground floor,” Vanessa explained as she pulled out her keys and opened the front door. “But we're only on the second, and the lift is pretty quick. Here...” She walked inside and guided her husband to the lift, up to the second floor, and into their apartment. She let Hermann move past her then, gesturing for him to go inside and explore.

And he did, taking in the new environment with a small smile. Vanessa had only been in the apartment for a few days herself, so it was still quite bare. Unopened boxes were lying in a corner of the living-room, but at least they had everything actually necessary to live: a furnished kitchen, a couch and coffee table, a spatious shower complete with stool and handrails, and a bed to sleep in. A bed to sleep in together. Such a simple thing to be happy about.

They toured the apartment together before stopping in the living-room. Hermann stood a while in front of the east-facing bay-windows. It was this view that had made Vanessa buy the apartment. The way Hermann was looking at it, she felt like he was looking for something, although she could not fathom what.

From the way he was leaning on his cane and the slight tremor of his other hand, Vanessa knew that he was exhausted. And still he stood there, looking at the line of buildings and the small park they lead to, staring at the grey sky above them.

The silence lasted for minutes. Vanessa tried to give him time, to let him adjust. She focused on her breathing, ignoring her own exhaustion. Still, this stillness was scaring her.

Finally, without noticing how long he had stayed motionless, Hermann turned to her with a smile.

“Thank you. It's perfect.”

She smiled in response, although it wasn't as natural as she wanted. “Settle down, okay?” She said, pointing at the couch. “I'll make some tea. Brought it back from England.”

“You're amazing,” Hermann replied. He let himself half-fall onto the couch with a sigh of relief.

Vanessa walked to the kitchen and put the kettle to boil, taking out her box of Oolong tea. Then she swore, realising that their tea-pot was still in one of the boxes in the living-room. She hadn't needed it when she had only been making tea for herself, and had forgotten to take it out.

She stopped in her tracks at the threshold of the next room. Hermann was slowly massaging his left thigh, but that wasn't what made Vanessa pause.

She had forgotten what it was like to walk into a room and for Hermann to just be there. It felt like something important enough that she should take the time to appreciate it. She shook herself after a second. She really was becoming much too sentimental for her own taste.

“I forgot the tea-pot here somewhere,” she said, making Hermann look up. “No idea which box it's in, though.”

“I'll help,” Hermann offered.

A few minutes later, they had finally found the pot, and made a mess of the boxes by the same occasion. Vanessa made the tea and put two mugs down on the coffee table, sitting down next to her husband. They would deal with the mess later. They would deal with everything later. They had time.

In this private and comforting setting, she decided to dedicate that time to staring at Hermann. He hadn't changed, and at the same time she knew he had. She thought he was slightly thinner than he used to be, which could easily be explained by all the stress he'd had to work under. But that wasn't really what held her attention.

There was something tense in the way he held himself, something that made her think of a fight-or-flight response. Like he was ready to bolt out of the room at any moment. Or like he expected the need to fight and hold his grounds.

The only thing Vanessa wanted was to keep him here, with her. To keep him safe. Hermann had never been a soldier, and yet he had gone off to war for humanity, while all she did was stay behind and wait. It made her feel sick. She knew there was nothing she could have done anyway, but feeling useless still made her ashamed.

She looked at her husband again. She took in his white skin, pale from too much time spent inside, his cheekbones, high and sharp, the slight crook in his nose and the thin line of his mouth. Crossing gaze with him, she could see that Hermann was observing her in the same way, mapping the lines of her face with his eyes. She moved forward a little and opened her mouth slightly, waiting for him to close the distance.

Hermann did, and when their lips met, it felt soft and warm and like home. Hermann hadn't been able to brush his teeth since stepping on his plane in Hong Kong, but Vanessa didn't really care. Not when it had been so long since she'd had this kind of intimacy with anyone.

Hermann had tried to talk to her about it, years ago when he had joined the Jaeger Academy. He had told her that she didn't have to wait for him, that he would understand if she went to someone else in the meantime, that he trusted her. Vanessa had shushed him at first, but had agreed at his insistance. She wouldn't force herself to be martyred in the name of love, and if she found out that she wanted a more intimate relationship with someone else, she would talk about it with Hermann.

It had happened a few times that she had started getting close with people, had started pondering what-ifs, but in the end she had never gotten together with anyone else. It was a thing she knew about herself. Attraction, whether romantic or sexual, didn't happen often for her. When she had started falling for Hermann, it had taken her by surprise. She had adjusted the words she used to describe herself, going from aromantic to grey-romantic, then she had let herself discover those new feelings and the man she was developping them for.

It had been strange and exciting to feel herself be drawn to someone in such a way. It had also been confusing, frightening even. However, things had become much easier once she had realised that Hermann was nearly as confused and as scared as she was, despite being a few years older. It seemed insane, how young they had been, how quickly it had all happened. How quickly it had all disappeared, once the War had broken out.

Vanessa wasn't sure why she was having such bitter thoughts in this particular instant. She closed her eyes to ward them off, and lost herself to the feeling of warm lips against hers. She put a hand on Hermann's shoulder, finding an angle to deepen the kiss, and he nipped at her lower lip in response. She opened her mouth with a sigh.

She opened her eyes and smiled when they finally pulled away from each other. “The tea is getting cold.”

Hermann gave her another quick peck on the lips before handing her her mug and picking up his. Both of them warmed their hands on their cups and relaxed. It was a familiar ritual.

“It's a little girl,” Vanessa said, out of the blue. “Or at least that's what the doctor said. I had the ultrasound last week.” She put a hand on her bulging stomach. “You didn't ask.”

Her tone wasn't reproachful, exactly, but close to it. After all, her obvious pregnancy was the only thing anyone around her asked about these days. Which was fair. Not a lot of people had decided to bear babies in a time that was defined by War. Even far from the Pacific, the influx of refugees and the strain on world resources had made itself known. Twelve years had been a long time, even if some of them had been hopeful. Not a lot of people wanted to bring children into a world defined by violence.

That meant Vanessa was noticed, even more noticed than pregnant women generally were. And yet, Hermann hadn't asked anything. She had been flattered, in a sense, that Hermann saw only her, and not just the baby she was carrying. But she had been worried, too, that despite everything he'd said he didn't want to see the baby. That he regretted Vanessa's decision.

“I... I didn't know how to,” Hermann admitted. “It's... I'm only realising now that this is really happening. That you're going to have a child. Before, it was... It was happening far away. I couldn't see you. I didn't know if I would still be alive three weeks from now, even less so in four months.”

That last part reassured Vanessa a little. Hermann knew she was due in four months. That meant he had kept track of time.

“And now I'm here and you're...” He gestured awkwardly, looking for a word.

“Looking gorgeous even when my belly is protruding because of the tiny human being currently developing inside it?”

Hermann smiled. “I couldn't have said it better.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes.

“It's... strange.” Hermann continued. “I'm adjusting. But I'm not... I want this. You have to believe me when I say that I want this. That I want you, and I want this child, and I want whatever life ends up throwing at us.”

That was all Vanessa had needed to hear. She pressed another kiss against Hermann's lips, because she could, and because she was happy.

“I'm glad,” she whispered against his skin. She pulled away, then, regaining a slightly more serious expression. “I know it's a lot of news, and that things are going very quickly for you. And I know you haven't been very involved in this pregnancy so far.” Hermann nodded at that, both in bitterness and in apology. “So I know it's kind of selfish of me to pick a name but...” Vanessa trailed off, unsure, even though she had had the debate with herself for days now. “But I do have a name in mind. And obviously if you don't like it we can pick something else, I don't want to pressure you or anything.” She was babbling again, a sure sign of her nerves.

Hermann took one of her hands in his and squeezed slightly. She breathed in, breathed out. “I want to call her Victoria.”

Victorious one. It was supposed to be a reminder, something to guide both parents and child through the rest of their lives. A name that said we did it before, we can win again. She had thought about it a lot in the past few days, and the name felt right to her. It marked a new beginning, as well as reminding them of the past.

“Victoria.” Hermann said the name aloud, as if he was trying out the feeling of the syllables in his mouth. “It's a beautiful name.”

#Fic: Veni Vedi #Meeni writes fics #Pacific Rim #Newton Geiszler #Hermann Gottlieb #Vanessa Gottlieb

1 note · View note