Aftermath: 44 - Untangle This (2030)

Spontaneously, Mako throws her arms around him, hugs him hard.

Chapter warnings: Realistic depictions of neurological, physical, and bureaucratic trauma. War. Grief. Death. Mental illness. Regular illness.

Text iteration: Witching hour.

Additional notes: None.

2030 (Forty-four – Untangle This)

In the late afternoon, Mako and Raleigh arrive with dinner. Mako looks at Newton, sleeping on the couch, and frowns, shooting Hermann a concerned look. “Did he—”

“No,” Hermann says quickly. “We’re trying something new this time,” he cannot help the mild satisfaction in his tone. “He has not had a seizure. He agreed to take a strong prophylactic regimen ahead of time.”

“Whoa,” Raleigh says, eyebrows up. “That’s huge. And it’s working?”

“So far,” Hermann replies, relieving Mako of a collection of plastic containers, full of more food than the four of them will be able to eat. “It was specifically designed for him by Dr. McClure.”

“Good old Hypothetical Rain,” Raleigh says.

Hermann rolls his eyes.

“Her real name is Coral,” Mako replies. “Which has always seemed to me to be as good as Rain.”

“I’m kinda partial to Rain,” Raleigh says. “She seems more like a Rain to me.”

“And I’m sure you seem very much like a Captain Sir Saves Everyone, to her,” Mako points out archly.

Raleigh laughs. “You two go make dinner. I’ll sit with Short Science here.” This directive is a bit strange, but Hermann lets Mako draw him to the kitchen. Together they make quick work of reheating the food she’s made. Once her Japanese-inspired casserole is in the oven and the table set, Mako approaches him, a photo in her hands, held against her chest.

“Hermann,” she says. “I want to show you something.”

He angles his head in invitation, but she does not lower the photo. “I—Raleigh and I. We had thought of having children, but I can’t. Because of the radiation. In Tokyo, when I was a child, I spent too long next to the damaged core of Striker Eureka.”

Hermann isn’t certain what to say to this, but Mako continues before he has the chance to do more than open his mouth. 

“But I thought, and Raleigh also thought—that was okay. It was almost better, because,” Mako’s voice fades to a whisper. She wipes her eyes. “Because he adopted me, the Marshal, and so I thought it seemed right for us to adopt a child as well. We didn’t want to tell before we knew, but—” and now she lowers the photo she’s been holding to her chest. There are two children in it, both Japanese, a girl of about seven, a boy a few years younger. “It’s finalized. In three weeks we pick them up.”

Hermann looks at her, astonished, and she grins. “Sayaka.” She points at the girl. “Hideo.” She points at the boy. “Their parents died in 2025.”

“That’s—” Hermann isn’t sure what to say. Congratulation’s doesn’t seem quite right. 

Spontaneously, Mako throws her arms around him, hugs him hard. “I was going to wait,” she said, “tell you together, but I couldn’t.” 

“I—” Hermann tells her, a catch in his voice, “I’m so happy for you both.”

“Thank you,” Mako whispers, stepping back, wiping her eyes. “I’ll tell Newt when he feels better. I don’t want to tell him yet. I want him to be excited. I want him to ask me a million questions all at the same time.”

Hermann smiles at her. “I’m sure he won’t disappoint.”

They bring dinner to the table and find, to their surprise, that Newton is awake. Not only is he awake, but he is playing chess with Raleigh Becket.

“What are you—” Hermann trails off. He looks at Mako in astonishment.

“Raleigh,” Mako snaps. 

Newton and Raleigh look up. “What?” they say, in tandem.

“This is, literally, the only time I might ever beat him,” Raleigh explains, shrugging. 

“I was curious,” Newton replies, half his hair sticking up, more than half asleep. 

“He’s still winning,” Raleigh says, “though not by much.”

Hermann studies the board, eyebrows raised. This does appear to be the case.

“Obviously he’s winning,” Mako says, frowning at Raleigh. “Come on Newt,” she says, helping him to his feet. She glares at Raleigh. “You were supposed to watch him, not wake him up for speed chess.”

“He woke up on his own,” Mr. Becket says raising both hands. “Help me out here, Geiszler.”

“Oh yeah because it’s much more normal for Becket to stare at me while I sleep,” Newton says, swaying slightly before he gets his feet under him. “That’s not weird for either of us. I applaud your decision, Captain.”

Raleigh raises his hand, upon which Newton bestows a moderately coordinated high five.

“Ugh,” Mako says. “Don’t start.”

“You were the one who switched allegiance, Maks. Becket and I are just doing the best we can.”

“I’ve always wanted a secret handshake,” Raleigh confesses, wistfully, in Newton’s general direction.

“Well, maybe we’ll talk later, Plus One,” Newton says. “I’m open to it.”

Dinner is delicious. Mako’s face is shining and she laughs often. Hermann has never seen her so happy. They all retire early for the evening. Hermann lies down in bed with Newton around nine o’clock. His eyes are half-lidded, his hair is disaster, he’s warm, and when Hermann pulls him into a comfortable position there is no tension anywhere in him. 

“I love you,” he murmurs, stroking Newton’s hair.

“Back at ya,” Newton says, tapping Hermann’s shoulder with two fingers, but otherwise unmoving.

“You are a merciless charmer.”

“Ooo merciless,” Newton says, into his shoulder. Hermann can hear his smile. “That does sound like me.”

“Do you know when I fell in love with you?”

“Long time ago,” Newton says. “Far far away.”

“Yes,” Hermann replies. “And when I told you that you were irresponsible, and when I complained about you to HR, and when I refused to meet you for coffee—”

“Still then,” Newton says.

“Yes,” Hermann replies. “All the way back to the beginning. To your first letter. That was when I knew.”

“You’re very complicated, Hermann.”

“Yes, I know. Fortunately, complexity is your forte. We are equally fortunate that you’re very difficult, and difficulty is my forte.”

“Mmm,” Newton says, falling asleep. 

“Are you going to remember that?” Hermann asks him. 

“Forte,” Newton repeats.

“No,” Hermann says, wrapping his arms around Newton, pulling the man close. “The other. Are you going to remember that I loved you right from that first letter?”

“Myeah,” Newton says, in apparent unconcern.

“And do you understand why I am so upset when you apologize to me?”

“EPIC Rapport.” 

“That could mean a lot of things,” Hermann whispers. 

“Hmm. Couldn’t it just.”

“Well, to cut to the chase, Dr. Geiszler, I love you. I would do anything for you. I want to fix everything for you. I want you to know how much I wanted that, because, then, maybe, you’ll understand why I cannot help but shout at you when you walk in the rain.”

“I know,” Newton whispers, voice thick with emotion.

“You don’t, you adorable thing. If you did, you’d never do it again.” He kisses Newton’s hairline. “How is your pitched battle going up here, hmm?” Hermann asks, tapping the man’s temple gently.

“Hypothetical Rain’s Army of Civilization continues conquesting. But the barbaric natives are not above to trying to stir the pot.”

Hermann smiles. “Much as I am enjoying your company, Newton, I believe that it is time to call in reinforcements for the Army of Civilization. 

“Oh if you must,” Newton sighs, shifting pleasantly atop Hermann. “I admit, this is better than being in the hospital.”

“I’m so glad you think so,” Hermann replies. He hands Newton a strip, and the other man sticks it in his mouth. With a therapeutic level of the stuff already in his blood, it takes very little time for him to fall asleep.

Newton makes it through the night. 

Hermann, carefully timing things out, sets his alarm for five in the morning. Newton comes only partially awake when Hermann, very carefully, presses a strip beneath his tongue. A few minutes pass, and Hermann feels a renewed sense of safety. This may work, he thinks, trying not to be too hopeful, pulling Newton close against him. The other man is deeply asleep, yielding to Hermann’s manhandling without so much the flicker of an eyelid. This may actually work. He presses a hand to Newton’s forehead, but he doesn’t feel particularly warm.

Hermann wraps his arms around the other man, holding him tightly. Newton likely would not tolerate such a position for long were he more alert, but he is sleeping deeply. Hermann tries to enjoy this moment, peaceful as it is. “This is all so deeply improbable,” he murmurs to Newton. “Does that ever occur to you, I wonder?” He recalls years of frustrated longing, grief, despair.

Now he feels again, an old feeling, something from his childhood. Hope, he thinks it’s called. 

“This is your doing, you know,” he whispers.