[Closed]

[driftsintobuffetline]

WHO: Newt Geiszler & Hermann Gottlieb - eventually Mako Mori [CLOSED]
WHERE: De Chima (two hotels, two taxis, one cafe, and the porter in a pear tree), then Maurtia Falls (Newt's apartment)
WHEN: August 15th-16th - immediately following the August 2015 Swear-In, after Qubit portals them out - forward from there
WHAT: The scientists yell, they argue, they cry, they hold each other together. Then they invite Mako for pizza and try not to spoil their canon for her.
WARNINGS: Newt drops several F-bombs and other lesser curses. Lots of arguing, some serious some childish. Some throwing up. Discussion of their respective mental/physical conditions. Panic attacks. Discussion of self-experimentation of the dissection variety. A single mention of embryonic stem cells. Newt puts his tea on ice--and that's apparently sacrilegious to Hermann.


Hermann and Newt - De Chima to Maurtia Falls
( I know that I've got issues | But you're pretty messed up too )


Hermann, Newt, and Mako - Maurtia Falls
( Either way I found out | I'm nothing without you )

Comments

[driftsintobuffetline]

Three years.

No matter what research he read, much of which gave a very similar prognosis, nothing prepared him for hearing it in harsh reality. He tried to get his tongue to work, to find something maybe to lighten the mood or to offer Hermann support or just anything, to shoot his mouth off like he always did, but instead, he was left staring at Hermann--Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, acquaintance of over a decade, colleague of about half that time, Drift Partner of about two weeks, friend...definitively of less than a couple of hours...but in theory of much longer than that, maybe, definitely, his Best Friend--the most brilliant, stubborn, determined man he knew...

He swallowed down a deep breath and-- Breathe, Newt. Breathe. Knowledge was power, but he almost wished he hadn't read as much as he did about MS. He didn't like knowing what Hermann was going to face in the eventual future if someone couldn't find a cure soon, and three years wasn't a lot of time to get that rolling.

"But here, they think they have it stopped, right? Or just slowed? What are they doing for you?"

[mathemagier]

The pregnant pause and weight of Newton's stare brought his shoulders up, jaw clenching as the man's emotions swept through him and set his teeth on edge.

"For god's sake Newton, I'm not dying," he snapped irritably. Though he couldn't deny it felt like it sometimes, worried that he'll lose what mobility he still had, and then even worse, his mind might erode. For twelve years, it had hardly been his largest concern. He only needed to be functioning then, and in the face of extinction, his disease progression seemed almost trivial.

But now there was a future- a future where his body and mind both slowly broke down and he lost himself in the process. It was absolutely terrifying, and the gas had sparked that undercurrent of fear and preyed on it. Even now, he wondered if this relapse wasn't a sign of approaching that stage. It was something of a miracle it hadn't already, given his poor health over the past decade.

"They believe the nanites may have halted the progression, but can't say anything definitive on the subject," he answered with apparent distaste. It wasn't anything he'd really taken to heart, unable to afford hope in such a flimsy promise. "I have monthly appointments to monitor the variability of my current symptoms and of course, a host of medications and a physical therapist. There isn't much else to say."

[driftsintobuffetline]

There was so much more to say, but neither of them was going to say it.

The nanites brought a little comfort, barely, because Newt couldn't trust in studies that were not definitive and he wanted facts. He wanted to look at what the government was basing their conclusions on. He needed certainty. Or closer to, before he resolved to not do anything himself. It wasn't entirely out of his power to attempt something and that was one thing that kept him from freaking out too badly: he might be able to do something, and dammit, he would try.

He wondered how difficult it would be for him to find out the results of Hermann's monthly tests.

"I know you're not dying, Hermann," he wiped his glasses off and then shoved them back on his face to glare over at Hermann. "Can't I just be concerned about you for one second without you getting all pissy-faced about it? For crying out loud, look at you: you're my fucking Drift Partner. But good, yeah, they're doing something. Awesome. If it's working, maybe we should just stay here." He offered a strained smile. "And I mean, I might be pretty terrible support, but I'm here anyway and I'm there for you back home, too--and regardless of how this plays out, we're going to beat this thing, because we're fucking amazing and we fight a good fight and we're the smartest guys on this planet and if we can drift with a Kaiju and close the Breach, we can definitely beat some crappy disease."

And then he beat a hasty retreat from the emotions and togetherness of promises; Newt held out a hand and gestured for the pill bottles. "Now, toss me those and I'll put 'em away."

[mathemagier]

Drift partner. Friend. He supposed their relationship would forever float between these two descriptors, the latter perhaps never said aloud. Still, it was touching in a way.

He met Newton's glare with a frown. "Stay here..?" In a world where he might not experience the more advanced stage of his disease. He wasn't certain they had a choice either way, but if they did.. You would do that for me? "Nonsense, our world needs to be prepared for the probability of another invasion. My predictive model is in desperate need of new data."

That at least, he could do. His disease wasn't something he could solve with a clever algorithm, no matter what Newton said about it. It was possible the biologist might be able to- the man was brilliant, after all- but not likely before the next stage developed. He shrugged, gathering up the bottles and tossing them to the bed rather than trusting them to Newton's hands.

"Now what should I expect in regards to your brain chemistry?"

[driftsintobuffetline]

Yes, here. However long they could stay, if it did indeed stave off the disease. For that, Newt could find it in him to deal with a thousand nights like last night, so he nodded, and the nod continued as Hermann logically explained why that was not an option on the table. Of course. The world still had to be saved.

He caught each bottle in turn--well, missing one and making a decent save on another--then tucked them away between the clothes like Hermann had them before.

Tables now turned, Newt struggled over how to explain it in such a way that didn't make him sound as utterly insane as he worried people thought he was. At least he had already known about the MS before, but he had no idea what Hermann knew about him (if Hermann had even cared to find out before) and so maybe a full explanation was in order. Crazy-sounding or otherwise. Better for Hermann to know he wasn't randomly losing his mind, that it was just Newt's brain doing its thing, before they had an actual episode.

"Well, I don't really know what you know," he took his time closing up Hermann's bag, "but that Chilton guy wasn't 100% wrong in his diagnosis. It is, uh, Borderline Personality Disorder--" He spread his hands out in a placating sort of motion. "It's not bad, really? I mean, it's not like you have to worry you're going to hear voices. I've never heard voices before, anyway!" Newt giggled awkwardly and sat down on the bed with a bounce. "And I did manage to procure an antidepressant without having to see Chilton, so there's that. Should probably see a therapist, but that guy kind of put me off of them for the time being." Sigh. What can you do.

"Anyway! Um, uh, what you can expect... Ah. Occasional depression," he flashed a tight smile that tried to look enthusiastic (yay, Hermann, look at the fun times ahead), "mood-swings, the usual Newt Geiszler brand of manic behavior, a fair bit of self-loathing (but honestly, who doesn't, right?)," he shrugged and played it off, considered mentioning 'abandonment issues' and wondered if that sounded way too pitiful (too desperate? too pathetic? gave too much power to Hermann?) to tell his friend who he had just nearly lost this morning as it was, "and I guess I'm kind of clingy? Honest, I'm not as much of a pity party as this makes it sound. I mean, this is all stuff you basically already know."

[mathemagier]

So however ill-intentioned Chilton may have been, he did know his field. Hermann had done some digging in an attempt to verify, because for all he'd known Newton had some sort of cognitive disorder, he'd never concerned himself with it. The information he'd come up with was fairly alarming to say the least, and he hoped for Newton's sake it wasn't something quite so serious. But nothing he was being told really came as a surprise.

Hermann nodded, wondering how much of Newton's moods would translate across their neural bridge.

"Is there ah, anything I should do when these things happen? Something that might help, perhaps?" He never really did anything before, often leaving Newton to his own devices unless he looked to be in danger of one thing or another, in which case they usually simply argued. Whether it made things better or worse in the long run he never understood, but it was the only form of therapy either of them could afford at the time.

[driftsintobuffetline]

"I've got a handle on it, really. You don't have to worry, Herms." He was not at all used to the attention, even from Hermann, and it made Newt fidget and wave it off. "I don't want to be babied. But, I mean...if you're around? and you want to? --stick around? Keep talking to me." Their arguments really did help. They distracted Newt and forced his brain to focus on either a new subject or on defending himself, and defending himself against Hermann sometimes meant defending himself against his own subconscious negative thoughts. It wasn't that long ago that Hermann forced him to justify his research and place in the post- cancelled-apocalypse world and ...it meant everything in that moment. He would never thank Hermann for it, of course, but that kept his mind from falling down into that depressing train of self-pity and self-loathing. "It's worse when someone leaves. Not that you have to stay if you don't want to! I mean, not trying to pressure you. Like I said, I've got it covered."

Newt hoped that his moods (particularly his anxiety) weren't all going to be broadcast to Hermann, because (a) it wasn't really fair to Hermann, and (b) it was awkward and unfair that he would know each time something set Newt off, even a little, even though Newt was sure Hermann could keep it confidential between the two of them, and (c) if Newt couldn't keep his thoughts and feelings to himself, he was scared Hermann really was going to ask him to neutralize it. As inconvenient as the neural bridge was, severing the connection between them frightened him more.

"Any more questions before the tour ends?"

[mathemagier]

Hermann watched him with the same pinched assessment he'd often direct at his chalkboards when his equations were slowly beginning to stand out to him as glimpses of the future rather than just a series of numbers. A lot of little things about Newton were making more sense in the context of those implications.

But not feeling quite up to discussing more uncomfortable revelations, he gave a slight, considering nod and levered himself up out of the chair at last. It still hurt, but wasn't quite as debilitating as before. He leaned heavily on his cane.

"Only for how you're feeling at the moment, because I'm likely to spit up my medications if we don't get breakfast soon." Nevermind it was practically noon now, and it was entirely possible he'd throw them back up anyway, but he'd commit homicide for a cup of tea right about then.

[driftsintobuffetline]

He was grateful to shove whatever remaining questions there were, if there were any, into a drawer for later examination. Now didn't have to be the time and Newt felt that Hermann was at least sufficiently informed without Newt feeling any more exposed. Hermann was already giving him that 'I know what makes you tick' look that he gives his chalkboard, or whatever it was, that was the look before there was a flurry of writing, like a lightbulb went off in his head. It was disconcerting to be pieced together like an equation.

As Hermann stood, Newt hefted himself to his feet, trying to evaluate in that moment if his lab partner needed someone to lean on, or if they could reach the lobby as is. Hermann wasn't in top form, but he didn't look like he was going to fall over soon...hopefully. Maybe. His own leg was just a dull ache, far less than it had been, so wasn't impossible to shoulder both bags now. "I'll get our stuff, but are you going to be okay on your own, or do you want a hand?" And then, teasingly, "I could still see about a bellhop's cart for you~"

[mathemagier]

Naturally, Newton grabbed up their bags before he did, and he threw the man a scowl for the effort. Hermann waved off his offers of assistance and made for the door with a vaulting gait to compensate for muscle weakness.

"I'm fine, Newton. You are only authorized to assist me if I look to be in danger of falling over."

They made it down to the lobby without incident, and Hermann turned in the room key with considerably more grace than he'd received it. The smile he got in turn was incredibly forced, and he turned from the desk with a low grumble.

"Well next time perhaps they won't give us such a difficult time of it. Suppose I should call our taxi ahead of time, depending on how long the line is.."

[driftsintobuffetline]

"Only authorized?" He grumbled under his breath, bringing up the rear. Charge onward, Hermann! For crying out loud. You make it sound so official. What? Do we need to sign some sort of Drift Partner Agreement to cover the clauses of when help is and isn't permitted? "Well, then don't fall over. My hands are kind of full."

Newt was glad to be rid of the hotel and soon, De Chima in general.

"Next time? Already gunning for another go at late-check-out negotiations, huh? Wow, Herms. You enjoyed that more than I thought." He adjusted the bags in his arms and wished Qubit had found Hermann a lighter laptop. The cafe was, fortunately, not far (which was good, because Hermann definitely needed to eat like...yesterday), and once they arrived, Newt quickly hopped in line, amazed at how a city which had been under attack just last night, could still manage to have such long of a line in such a little cafe. "What do you want? Tea and...a turkey sandwich sound good?"

[[ Continued Here ]]