justaskalice | if you go chasing rabbits

[Huff. What an asshole. It doesn't always have to be an argument. You don't have to counter me on principle, Hermann.

He turns in that hold, eyes lowered, and places a hand on Hermann's chest. Memories conflict. Lonely nights during decade's separation. Nearly two years worth of mornings with Hermann as his home.

He gently pushes Hermann away.]

You know where to find me if I do.

[Hermann lets him go because he promised to, though his heart still yearns to hold him. He wonders if Newton will be so easy to find after all]

Do you.. is there anything that has helped you feel more yourself? Memories, conversations..?

[He smiles, all Newt, a little twinkle in his eye, flirty and coy and clever as if he's going to answer, but he opens his mouth and it's as though a vault door has closed off the adoration and hope in his expression.]

I think that's quite enough of that, Gottlieb.

[Hermann's eyes close, grief and pain etching through the deepening lines of his face because it hadn't been long enough, and it never would be. His shoulders slump and he glares out at the Precursors stealing and twisting his husband's features for their own use]

I don't suppose you're human enough to sleep even while you're infecting a human host.

[They sigh.]

Us, him, or the body? You could stand to be a bit more specific about which Newtonian component you mean.

Newton's body and mind obviously need sleep, so I'd be asking about the Hive's consciousness.

This isn't twenty questions.

[He rooted his cane in front of him and stood about as tall as he could manage]

Then I will remind you that death isn't permanent here, and I will return as many times as I need to in order to free Newton from your godawful influence.

[They squared their shoulders and met that glare.]

Remember change isn't permanent either. If we have to kill him to keep him, we will. We suffer nothing from his pain, nor from yours. We do not pay a toll for your deaths, but his distress and yours will feed us.

Don't try to play with us, Gottlieb. We've had eons. You are nowhere near our level.

[His resolve wavered and he wished he had anything to negotiate with.

Please don't kill him.

Because for all his talk, there was always a chance an imPort may not revive. And while Hermann was very nearly certain they would kill him at some point (perhaps even tonight) he didn't want to take that chance with Newton's life at all.

But he had little to nothing to offer, and couldn't afford to offer what little he did have if he wanted to have any real chance to save Newton.]

..It doesn't matter how ancient or strong you beings are, I will not rest until I've found a permanant solution for your infection of him.

Yeah, right, of course. We've come to expect nothing less.

[He shrugs, wipes at his nose, and straightens his clothes.]

So until then, what was this about you getting blackmailed?

I'm not answering questions when you aren't. That was a conversation I was trying to have with Newton.

[He rolls his eyes and takes a seat on an armchair, kicking up his feet.]

Well, now you're having it with Us.

..No, I think after the eventful day I've had, I'm going to go rest.

Weak. [They pick up the remote control for the television, turn it over, considering it.]

There is no way you could have kept up with his lifestyle. He would have tired of you soon enough.

[It stung, though he tried to brush it off. All he was in the eyes of the Precursors was a frail old man, a nuisance only because of Newton's attachment to him]

..He would have been loved and cherished- happier certainly, than he has been, suffering with only the Hive for company.

[Something in Newt's eyes shifts slightly, softens--

They wave a dismissive hand and turn away.]

Go to bed, old man, and take your delusions with you.

Just please fix the coffee table before you rest for the evening.

[It's something of a victory that they can't dispute his counterargument, and he moves down the hall for his bedroom and dresses down despite the early hour. He's mentally exhausted and emotionally wrung out. The various bumps and scrapes he's taken make themselves known, and he settles into bed with a groan.

He wonders if Newton might still join him later, but perhaps it's better he doesn't. He could go so far as to lock the door, but if the real Newton thought he was afraid of him..

Exhausted and troubled, he falls into a fitful rest riddled with brief periods of consciousness]

Edited 2018-05-07 07:07 (UTC)

[In the morning, when Hermann wakes, the livingroom is worse state than he left it to sleep. The couch cushions have been upended--though it appears there was a fitful if ineffective attempt to spot-clean at least one of them where blue blood dripped on it--and some are even missing. The table has been righted, however, though it's covered with torn pages from magazines; these pages, tourist advertisements for the imPort Cities and articles about imPort lifestyles, are scribbled over with words, ramblings, little of which is coherent. Hermann's name is repeated several times.

An armchair is dramatically out of place, having been dragged across the room to sit awkwardly in front of a coat-closet door, as if blocking it from opening. It opens outward.]

[It's not quite light out when he wakes fully. He's still alive and the spot next to him remains empty. The house is quiet and for a few moments, he can pretend it was all a dream.

Hermann's bladder eventually encourages him out of bed and he takes his medications while he's at it, then dressed in his bathrobe, cautiously peers into the living room. His heart drops at the sight, but really, he shouldn't have expected differently.

He pads over to the coffee table and leafs through the scribbles, increasingly concerned until the feeling of something being out of place finally clicks and he notices the armchair in front of the closet.

Logic abandons him. Seized by a sudden, desperate fear fueled by threats from the previous evening, Hermann throws his full weight and strength into hauling the armchair away from the door. It's hard, exhausting labor, but fueled by the rush of adrenaline, he manages it.

Chest heaving, his hand shakes as he reaches for the small knob on the door.]

Oh god, Newton, please be all right.

[Newt's asleep sitting up against one of the walls of the closet and since he is leaning on the couch cushion propped against the inside of the door, he tips and falls out of the closet as the door is abruptly opened.

He snaps awake, confused, flailing.]

Wha-?! Who?!

[He looks up, reflexively even after all this time, reaches up to his own face to push his non-present glasses up his nose, and grins.]

Hermann!

[Glances past Hermann at the mess of the livingroom and grimaces.]

Loook, I can explain...

[He drops to his knees immediately, heedless of the pain and everything else as he wraps Newton up in a tight embrace. It's early, it's late, and he's just so relieved that Newton is alive and himself that his eyes sting and he has to fight to keep himself steady]

Oh, thank god. I thought they might have killed you.

I'm harder to kill than that, dude. You know that. You tried.

[It doesn't sound quite as cocky when muttered into Hermann's shoulder while holding him in a bone crushing embrace.]

[He stops, embrace loosening in his confusion]

What? I've never tried to kill you

No, but...I mean, you wanted to. Countless times, right? Because of music or kaiju guts or whatever other bullshit I was doing.

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