Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hermann Gottlieb was many things. A doctor of mathematics first and foremost, then a son, then a brother, then whatever else lay after such things. His education had been the most prominent aspect of his life since he could read, an ability which he was told he had acquired at a far younger age than the majority of his peers. Whilst words came to him quickly, numbers were even more natural, something which delighted his father, a prominent physicist in his own right. This delight, however, was about as far as his father’s affections for him went, as outside of his mathematics, he did not see any value in Hermann–not that he viewed any of his three siblings in a more positive light.

Now Hermann stood in a ballroom constructed decades ago, its older architecture contrasting heavily with the newer buildings that surrounded it. Although the Gottliebs were by no means poor, he felt near destitute surrounded by the rest of high society, dressed in a three-piece suit he remembered wearing on at least three separate occasions prior. He was thankful, at least, that the ballroom was not being used for its original intended purpose that night, but was rather being used by his father to announce his latest achievement. Lars, just like Hermann, was a doctor first. All family matters came secondary and tertiary, so on and so forth.

Dietrich and Bastien had wandered off early into the night, far more interested in the food and drink that had been offered than their brother’s work. Hermann, in all fairness, could not blame them. He was aware that, although he found his preferred science fascinating, his feelings for it were not particularly popular. Karla and his mother were not invited, as Lars believed that Karla needed to put more focus into her Latin and Greek and Hermann’s mother had been feeling unwell for several continuous days. Such bouts of illness were not uncommon for her, and every time they occurred Hermann pretended to be oblivious to the glare his father would direct towards his cane.

The ballroom was filled with round tables draped in large, white cloth that brushed against the ground. Fine silverware and china decorated the tables, the napkins placed atop the porcelain shaped into perfect triangles. The glasses completing every single dining set had been polished to the point where they refracted the light just as a prism would, scattering miniscule rainbows across the surfaces just thin enough that their colours were indistinguishable from one another to the untrained eye. 

Hermann’s eyes, however, were trained impeccably. From in amongst the crowd, he could pick out Bastien stumbling over towards him, attempting not to step on the feet of the men he was trying to sneak past or the hems of the dresses of whatever ladies were in attendance. Despite his physical limitations, Hermann made an attempt to carry himself with the grace and elegance of a man of his intelligence and position, something his second eldest brother had never found half as important. He didn’t even attempt to hide the wicked smirk on his face as he finally positioned himself at Hermann’s side, as if he had just been made privy to a raunchy piece of gossip.

“What is it, Bastien?” he asked, barely attempting to hide his exasperation. He had been instructed to sit at the reserved seat his father had picked out for him until he made the announcement, after which Hermann would give the speech he had rehearsed thanking the university for its support and financial aid. Only then was he allowed to walk around and converse as he pleased, and although he was a naturally introverted person, Hermann found himself aching to leave his seat.

“Do you see the man by the table on the far side of the room?” Bastien asked in turn, a spark in his eyes that Hermann knew could only mean trouble. When he shook his head in response, Bastien gestured vaguely to the area of the room he was talking about, as if doing so would attract less attention instead of making it look like his arm had been possessed by a flopping fish. Despite the poor direction, Hermann was instantly able to pick out the man Bastien was talking about; he stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the other guests, all of whom were dressed in the latest fashions and with their hair styled to perfection.

The mysterious man, by contrast, was dressed in a tailcoat and vest whose origins were distinctly of the previous decade. Whilst Hermann may have been ashamed of his own thrice-worn outfit, he would never dare let himself be caught in something so clearly out-of-style, at least not in a ballroom full of some of the most high-profile people in all of Europe. His hair was a slight mess, although any tousled quality was far too much at an event such as the one they were at, and his glasses were large and square with thick frames. He was nothing like Hermann had ever seen before.

Hermann prayed quietly to himself that the heat rising to his cheeks was not evident to his brother. He was, after all, in his early twenties and as such still young enough to skirt by questions of any romantic interest by saying that he was far too preoccupied by his work. Married to it, Bastien would say. He did not need the true reality of his inclinations to be revealed by some moderately attractive man who he would likely never see again, especially at an event that was as important to himself and his family as this one. 

His prayers must have worked, as Bastien continued on, unaffected by the world around him. “What a dreadful outfit. There’s no way father could have possibly invited him, he can barely stand being in the same room as you or I, there’s no chance on Earth he’d hang around someone who plucked his clothes from the rubbish.”

“Oh, don’t be so harsh, Bastien,” Hermann chided, although he knew his brother spoke the truth. The man was standing away from the crowd and looking around nervously, clearly unfamiliar with the other people present, or at least unfamiliar enough to not want to insert himself into conversation. For a split second, his gaze met with Hermann’s, but then he was looking away again. “He wouldn’t be able to enter if father hadn’t invited him. His way of dress may be… eccentric, but who is to say he’s not a genius because of it?”

Bastien rolled his eyes, but he didn’t snap at Hermann. “Why don’t you go talk to him, then? See how exactly he knows father-dearest. After all, this is your event.”

“It’s father’s event,” Hermann shot back, because he would never organise something so ostentatious for himself in a million years. He knew Bastien was aware of that fact, but the strike at his character was something he could not let go without correction. “And besides, I’m meant to stay here until I give my speech.”

“Oh, please,” Bastien sighed, grabbing Hermann’s cane and shoving it into his hands as he pulled him out of his chair, “You and I both know father will prolong everything for as long as possible so he can talk to his colleagues about his own latest body of work. That man, however, looks like he’s about to run out of the room as if his coattails caught on fire.”

Hermann made to argue with his brother more, but then the man darted out of the room exactly as Bastien said he would. Far too caught up in the peculiarities of the mysterious intruder, Hermann did not even make any requests with his brother before exiting the room as quickly as possible, wishing that no one of particular importance would spot him leaving. Despite his belief that hope and will made no physical impact on the world without direct action derived from such things, he had found himself relying solely on them multiple times already.

The corridors were empty, the man nowhere in sight, but the tall ceilings and the marble that gleamed on almost every surface made his footsteps echo long after he was gone. Hermann followed the sound diligently, thankful that there was barely anywhere for his path to diverge beyond one or two crossways, until he finally caught sight of the man again. He was fumbling for something in his pocket whilst he stood in front of a door, his arms reaching ever so slightly further than Hermann believed to be possible for a regular coat pocket. 

It was a wonder the clack of his cane on the floor had not drawn the attention of the man sooner, but this time, as Hermann attempted to step closer, the man’s head swivelled around fast enough that Hermann could hear his vertebrae click despite the distance. To his credit, the stranger immediately winced and began rubbing at the back of his neck as if doing so would ease some of the pain, so he couldn’t be too strange. 

“You’re Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, correct?” the man asked, his voice high-pitched, vaguely shrill, and distinctly American. Hermann was unaware that Lars had any American colleagues or acquaintances, let alone any who he would let know of him, and so he frowned.

“Perhaps. Who might you be?” he asked in response, and the man smiled.

“Dr. Newton Geiszler, ‘m a big fan of your work.” Dr. Geiszler held out a hand for Hermann to shake, and out of politeness, he did. His grip was strong and firm and he shook Hermann’s hand far too excitedly for the offered handshake to have been done out of courtesy, which befuddled Hermann even further. Dr. Geiszler was, by all he had gathered so far, the exact opposite type of man Lars would ever willingly associate with. All of the rules his father had drilled into him over the years told Hermann to bid the man farewell and walk away as quickly as possible so as to hope he would never have to interact with him again. Unfortunately for Lars and fortunately for Dr. Geiszler, Hermann had never been particularly fond of his father.

“Really? I take it that I’m not particularly popular amongst most of academia,” Hermann finally pulled his hand away, although he did not move himself away. Rather, he moved closer, as if Dr. Geiszler had just let slip that he held a particularly scandalous bit of information and he wanted to know more. “I am always told that my ideas are far-fetched and ludicrous.”

“Oh, no! They’re revolutionary!” The intrigue and excitement in Dr. Geiszler’s eyes for his work was unlike any Hermann had ever seen before, and it made his chest feel warm, as if someone had lit a candle under his heart. “Your work is far beyond that of your contemporaries. It’s, like… ah… well, it’s sort of as if you’re riding around on horseback whilst they’re still walking on foot. You know what I mean?”

“I believe I do, yes,” Hermann said, smiling fondly. “Forgive me, but, I can’t say I’ve heard of you or your work before. Would you mind telling me what, exactly, you are a doctor in?”

“Oh, plenty of things,” Dr. Geiszler said in a way Hermann supposed was meant to be interpreted as nonchalantly, but he was looking away nervously. A tic, he supposed, and one that was incredibly obvious to one who knew where to look. “I have doctorates in biology and neurology and botany and plenty of others, but I like to read up on as many sciences as I can.”

“How many doctorates do you have, exactly?”

Dr. Geiszler pondered for a moment, as if counting them out in his head. “Six.”

“Six? You must be a wunderkind to have so many at such a young age!”

Dr. Geiszler snorted as he smiled, finally looking Hermann in the eyes again. He decided he liked it when he did that. He could get a proper look at the gorgeous green colour of them, then. “I am older than I look, Dr. Gottlieb.”

There was an ominous meaning behind his words that Hermann did not have the time to decipher, as both his and Dr. Geiszler’s attention was pulled towards the sound of a different pair of footsteps making their way through the halls. It was, of course, Lars, his face twisted with fury in such a way that one would be forgiven for thinking him to be possessed by a demon. His gaze instantly landed on Hermann, who stood to attention immediately, the soft look wiping itself from his face to be replaced by one of remorse.

Then, something unexpected happened. Lars shifted his gaze to Dr. Geiszler, and upon making eye contact, he instantly relaxed. It was deeply unnerving. From all the qualities that the doctor had shown himself to possess, the flames of his father’s fury should have only been heightened alongside his recognition, not extinguished. In fact, his father was so pleased to see Dr. Geiszler that he brushed Hermann aside to give him a friendly handshake, one Hermann knew he only reserved for the most important of colleagues. 

“Dr. Geiszler! I was unaware you were able to make it,” Lars said, his smile broadening with each word that left his mouth. It was clear from how it dug into his cheeks that he did not do it often, but the smile that Dr. Geiszler returned seemed strained. “I had it in good authority that you weren’t in Germany at the moment.”

“I wasn’t, but then I was,” Dr. Geiszler shrugged, as if it was a completely normal thing to say, “Hermann’s studies interest me. We were just talking about your work, weren’t we, Hermann?”

Although it was the truth, Hermann couldn’t help but feel a hot flush of shame creep up along the back of his neck at the use of his first name. He nodded his head in agreement, hoping his father’s jovial nature wouldn’t be diminished by the over-familiarity. “Yes, however Dr. Geiszler and I were just about to begin discussing his own studies. I take it that you know of them, father?”

“Oh, yes. Dr. Geiszler has ideas that manage to make yours look tame in comparison, would you believe it?” Lars paused to laugh, but neither Hermann or Dr. Geiszler laughed with him. Then, he clapped Hermann on the back, something which nearly knocked him off balance with the unexpected force of it. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Just make sure you come back soon, alright, son?”

Lars’ behaviour had been strange, but the look he was giving Hermann was all too familiar. Do not let your ‘curious’ mind wander, it said. If it were not for their shared gaunt faces, Hermann would say that the only way his father was truly his as opposed to a malevolent entity superimposed as the head of the household was the way in which he seemed to instinctively know things about Hermann. Things he desperately wished he didn’t. 

It was only when Lars disappeared around the corner once more that Hermann allowed himself to relax, tension almost immediately leaving his shoulders, and it was clear from the loud sigh Dr. Geiszler let out that he was doing the same. He turned back to him to ask how exactly he knew his father, and how he seemingly knew him so well that his mere presence removed him from such foul moods, but he beat him to the punch.

“I travelled with him,” Dr. Geiszler said, now fiddling with something that looked similar to keys but were far too small and sleek to be such things. They were flat and made of metal, presumably steel, although he couldn’t imagine why it would be used for such a purpose. “It was before you or your siblings were around. Maybe even before he met your mom. I dunno, stuff tends to blur when you get old.”

The smile on Dr. Geiszler’s face was teasing, but the words he said were deeply peculiar and slightly unsettling. Although he had mentioned before he was ‘older than he looked’ Hermann had been quick to brush the comment aside with the assumption that he was only several years older, but the confession he had made revealed he was at least two-and-a-half decades older. Yet, he stood before Hermann with a face that was barely-stubbled and devoid of wrinkles beyond the dimples in his cheeks when he grinned, and Hermann still felt inclined to trust him.

It was clear that Dr. Geiszler was not planning on returning to the event, in Hermann’s mind, which was a shame seeing as he found him vastly more interesting than the famous physicists and members of high-end society that his father normally insisted he surround himself with. The man had a genuine history that intrigued Hermann, something which could not be said for any of the people that had attempted small talk with him as he sat diligently in his assigned seat. In that room he had felt like he had to be straight-backed and proper, just as he had felt for every other day in his life, but around Dr. Geiszler he felt as if he could let his guard down. As if he could be a person, as opposed to the model his father had constructed.

And so, even though he had only known the man for less than an hour and, quite possibly, less than thirty minutes (he hadn’t exactly been keeping track), he said, “I’ll go with you.” Dr. Geiszler looked up from his keys with wide eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open.

“You don’t even know where I’m going,” he responded after some hesitation. “Or when, or what we’ll do or see, or–”

“It cannot be any worse than here,” Hermann interrupted, rolling his eyes. “If I have to hear another conversation about how Britain is contemplating another war with the Ashanti I believe I’ll end up storming out of here anyways. Your company is… far more tolerable.”

“Tolerable? Not enjoyable?” Dr. Geiszler asked, smiling.

“Do not get ahead of yourself, Geiszler. I can still change my mind,” Hermann said, although both of them knew he would do no such thing, at least for something as inoffensive as a joke. Dr. Geiszler gripped the keys in his hand with a renewed determination before returning his focus to the door. 

It appeared at a first glance to be like any other door one would spot on the premises, but there was something slightly off about it. Indeed, the frame was outside of the wall as opposed to embedded as it was supposed to be, which meant that the door itself was also outside of the wall. It would most likely lead to nowhere, unless someone had done a truly poor job of installing it, which would make no sense given how perfect the rest of the building was. How did Dr. Geiszler have a key to a door in a building which he did not own, anyways?

The key slid into the keyhole on the doorknob with ease, and when Dr. Geiszler turned it, the door opened inwards. He shot one final look at Hermann, a smile that only affected one side of his face, before entering. He left the door just closed enough that the interior of the room was out of sight, and Hermann swallowed thickly. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? He had spent plenty of time fantasising about escaping the dull life that had been planned out for him, the one where he would never truly escape the clutches of his father even after the man had dropped dead. It was then that he realised he had made his decision years before he even knew Dr. Geiszler.

Before catching a proper glimpse of the room, Hermann closed the door behind himself. From what he had seen, Dr. Geiszler was a man for whom every perceived action or inaction came with some form of thought. The shared look in the ballroom had not been a coincidence, and his cryptic comments had been calculated–Hermann was sure of it. All of it led to this moment, right here and right now, where no planning could predict how Hermann would react to the first step into a new, unknown life. Not even Hermann was sure how he would react.

When he turned around, he quickly realised that regardless of if he had even had a plan or not, he would not have possibly been capable of predicting what he laid his eyes upon then. In the centre of the room was a column which pulsed with white light, three large crystals encased in glass that stretched into the ceiling. Around it was a table with buttons and levers and switches and more, all different sorts of things with different sorts of functions which Hermann could never even hope to learn all of the details of. Much to his relief there was not a single stair in sight, and so he walked up the ramp to get closer without much difficulty. 

Dr. Geiszler was not in the room, although Hermann did not think it was likely for him to have gone very far. Aside from the entry there was only one other door, featuring a ramp that led directly to it. The only other possible exit was a hallway that seemed to stretch into infinity, far too complex and lengthy for Hermann to even consider exploring. Thankfully, he could hear rustling coming from behind the door, so he didn’t feel like he would have to worry about the hallway for quite some time. 

Hermann had speculated before on the idea of an area which was larger than the outside dimensions would allow. Although impossible by any and all means with the technology he had available, he could and would speculate for hours at a time on the means to achieve such a thing. There was no way to secure funding for such research, of course, but he always managed to reserve some from other studies with his frugal spending habits.

This, however, was proof that his theory was correct, and it almost made him angry. Whenever he had thrown the idea around before, his father would shoot him down, telling him it was ridiculous and that he should stick to real science, but he knew Dr. Geiszler. He had travelled with him, Dr. Geiszler had said so, which must have meant that he knew that the technology existed. What was it, then? Was he scared of what Hermann might do if he made the information public? Was he enraged by the idea of anyone else having what he had? Lars had always been such a hollow and pitiful man that Hermann had no trouble finding both explanations entirely reasonable, as well as plenty of other just-as-harsh thoughts.

Dr. Geiszler emerged from the second room too quickly for Hermann to continue to mull over whatever despicable reason he believed Lars had for ridiculing his theories. The merest glance at the man instantly made him look away, whatever anger he had being immediately replaced with shame. “Dr. Geiszler, what on Earth are you wearing?”

“You can just call me Newt, dude,” Dr. Geiszler said, dropping the few formalities he had been employing outside. Hermann risked another glance in his direction, but even the smallest of glimpses made heat rise to his cheeks. The out-of-style suit had been replaced by clothing Hermann had never even seen before, and for very good reason; it was all far too little, so much so that it ended up being too much. The jacket he wore appeared to be black leather and stopped around his hips, nothing like the long woollen coat he had been wearing before, his pants were far too tight, accentuating the shape of his legs and made of a material Hermann had never seen before, and although the shirt could have very easily been the one he had been wearing before, there was no waistcoat or bowtie in sight.

“You haven’t answered my question!” Hermann tried to look anywhere else, really, he did, but it was so terribly distracting, and Dr. Geiszler was standing right beside him. “This is–I don’t even know what to make of it!”

“It’s all the rage in the future, Hermann.” If it was meant to be some kind of reassurance, Hermann was not at all reassured. If anything, he was now even more flustered and confused than before. “You said you wanted to travel with me, so we’re travelling! And that means you’ve gotta get out of those stuffy clothes.”

“What?”

“People only wear suits for formal occasions in the future, and they certainly don't wear any that look like that,” Dr. Geiszler waved his hand dismissively at Hermann’s entire outfit, and Hermann was very quickly beginning to wonder if it was too late to turn around and leave. “The wardrobe should have anything and everything you need. The TARDIS is good like that, aren’t ya girl?” He pet the column in the centre of the room affectionately, as if the room could hear him. 

It was simple. Hermann had become acquainted with a madman. A genius one who had six doctorates and had managed to break all of the preconceived notions of spacial dimensions with his large-rooms-inside-a-small-door, but a madman nonetheless. For Christ’s sake, he was talking to it as if it could hear him. Hermann had seen ship captains talk to their crafts and gentlemen with far too much money refer to their holiday homes in France as ‘she’, but this was something else. And all of this talk of the future, too! Truly, it was–

The ground shook and Hermann had to grab onto Dr. Geiszler to keep his balance. A loud wheezing emanated from what seemed to be underneath the column, but Hermann was becoming very disorientated very quickly, and Dr. Geiszler wasn’t helping very much at all. He at least laid a hand on Hermann’s shoulder to keep him steady, so even though it seemed like the earth was splitting in two with the amount of rumbling that was going on, he would remain upright for it all.

The moment the ground ceased to shake, Hermann moved as fast as he could for the door so that he could leave, his cane almost missing its mark one too many times for him not to feel slightly embarrassed about it. When he opened the door, however, he was not greeted with the same marble-floored hallway that he was absolutely certain they had both just been in. No, they were somewhere very different indeed.

“Welcome to Australia, Hermann!” Dr. Geiszler said cheerily, as if it was normal to have physics-breaking machines that could teleport. “Should be the same time as when you came aboard, although since Australia is a couple hours ahead–nine, I think–it’ll look a bit different.”

‘A bit different’ was an understatement. The sky was full of stars, one of the arms of the Milky Way fully visible in all of its beautiful and vibrant purples and blues. It was unlike anything Hermann had ever seen before. He stepped out of the room (Dr. Geiszler had called it a ‘TARDIS’, Hermann reminded himself) and closed his eyes for a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, and Dr. Geiszler followed him shortly afterwards. 

When he opened his eyes again, Hermann was able to see the houses in the distance, far enough away that they were obscured in the darkness as opposed to being faintly illuminated in the bright starlight like the gumtrees were. The trees in question were tall with thick trunks, the branches that diverged towards the top bending in large, elegant curves. If he squinted he could make out the shapes of animals sleeping in the lower branches, still far too high up for him to reach without using his cane. 

The sound of crickets filled the night air, occasionally accompanied by a hiss that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He had, of course, heard stories about Australia, although he knew no one who had been to the continent personally–most academics in the circles his father frequented thought of themselves as being above the land full of convicts and descendants of gold-rush chasing maniacs. Seemingly, however, they were not above spreading rumours about such places.

As if sensing his unease, Dr. Geiszler looped an arm around one of his and led them out of the trees. Out in the open, where it was clear that the ground was little more than coarse red dirt and pitiful, wispy yellow grass growing in haphazard patches, he managed to feel a little bit calmer about the entire situation. Not just with the still-present sound of the snakes that weaved amongst the roots of the gumtrees, but the mere fact that they had travelled across the world in a matter of moments. The ground was, in effect, grounding. Bastien would probably groan at that one, Hermann figured with a smile.

“Where exactly are we?” he finally decided to ask, fanning himself as best as he could with his free hand, the arm it was on still being interlocked with Dr. Geiszler’s. He had, of course, heard about how hot it was in the southern continent, but he hadn’t exactly had the time to change. It was night, anyways, and he was quite accustomed to often sub-zero temperatures being counteracted by multiple blankets and a thick pair of woollen pyjamas. 

“Melbourne, I’m pretty sure,” Dr. Geiszler licked a finger and then held it to the air. “Yup! Outskirts, of course, the inner city looks a lot more like what you’re used to. Although… far more English.”

Hermann nodded stiffly, staring at the facades of the nearby houses. Tree stumps littered the ground closest to them, he saw now, and some of the trees on the outer edges of the thin forest that they had just emerged from were clearly in the process of being chopped down. He thought over the conversation they’d had after landing in his head, trying to decide what question to ask next. He had no idea what might sour his acquaintanceship with Dr. Geiszler, and he did not want to get on the bad side of the man who was very much in charge of where they went. “You said something about time.”

“Yes.” Dr. Geiszler looked up at him, a playful smirk on his face and a matching twinkle in his eyes, although it could have just been the stars.

“Does it–does your machine travel through time as well?”

Dr. Geiszler’s smirk grew into a lop-sided grin. He looked to the stars above, squinting his eyes as if thinking over how he should answer Hermann’s question. The man was a dreadful tease, and yet Hermann was absolutely enthralled. “TARDIS. Stands for Time-And-Relative-Dimension-In-Space.”

“Dreadfully English, don’t you think?”

“The German acronym doesn’t sound as sophisticated. I’d have to change the meaning for it to stay the same,” Dr. Geiszler shrugged. 

Hermann stared at him thoughtfully. “So… is that a yes?”

“To what?”

“To the time travel.”

Dr. Geiszler looked at Hermann once more, the stars seeming to stick to his eyes for a few seconds longer than a true reflection should. “Do you want to find out?”

Chapter Text

The TARDIS did, indeed, time travel. It was remarkably good at it, too, and although Hermann asked Newton about the exact mechanics of it all dozens and dozens of times, he never got a direct answer. He eventually decided to start dressing less like he had just been plucked from the 1890s (even if he very much had been) and he still wore just as many layers as he used to when he was able to do so. Sweater vests and more flexible blazers were a welcome change of wardrobe, and he was more than happy to ditch the padding he’d once worn to achieve the physique he knew he would never have. 

Whilst initially Hermann had refused to refer to Newton as anything other than Dr. Geiszler, eventually the two had come to an agreement; Hermann wouldn’t call him by his ridiculous nickname, but he wouldn’t refer to him by his full title. He pretended to be unhappy with the change, but either he wasn’t as good at hiding his true feelings as he had thought he was (a truly mortifying idea) or Newton was just particularly good at reading him, because he believed that if Newton had thought he was truly uncomfortable with the arrangement, he would’ve let Hermann call him whatever he pleased.

Sometimes, Hermann liked to test Newton on his knowledge of the Earth. He had accepted after the sixth trip that it was likely Newton didn’t come from the planet–or if he did, then he was from so far in the future that it was likely unrecognisable. Whilst his family had always been romanticists in the sense that they thought the German Empire would last for forever, Hermann liked to think that he was not as foolish. After all, his grandparents had seen the fall of the Holy Roman Empire, and they had made fairly clear over the course of his childhood that they, too, had thought it would never come to an end. 

There were plenty of details that Newton liked to divulge about time periods that they were visiting, especially when he thought that there would be things in particular that Hermann would need to adhere to that he assumed he would not know about. It was a fair assumption to make–Hermann was a physicist, after all, and none of the humanities had ever been his favourite–and he often found himself having to relearn things that he had been taught, to correct his previous understandings. 

There were also, however, some time periods that clearly made Newton deeply uncomfortable. One of the places they visited most often was Germany, as Hermann, despite not being nearly as patriotic as his family, did still have a fondness for his homeland. It was for this reason that he had quickly realised Newton’s avoidance of the early twentieth century in particular. He had then had to sit Hermann down and explain the events of the early years slowly and carefully, trying his hardest not to overstep any boundaries unknowingly. The effort was deeply appreciated, and Hermann did not ask again.

Their visits often extended for long periods of time, stretching into a year and a half at the longest. Hermann had never been led to believe that they were vacationing, seeing as plenty of people travelled for work-related reasons, and he was happy to see that Newton, although taking a more leisurely approach, was in agreement. The academic value of their lengthy stays was insurmountable to both of them, and although originally Hermann had had a few doubts about the legitimacy of some of Newton’s claims, he soon found himself wholeheartedly trusting almost every word that came out of his mouth.

Newton was, of course, still downright insane at times; his bursts of manic energy would make him stay up for days at a time, fueling himself on whatever caffeine he could get his hands on and naps that lasted two hours maximum, before crashing hard and fast. He would, at times, ramble in languages Hermann wasn’t even sure were spoken by humans, not with the way his mouth twisted around the syllables and he seemed to go for an age saying a single word without breathing. His notes were sometimes incomprehensible scribbles, circles inside circles, going on and on just as the corridors of the TARDIS did, that were connected by lines and dots. Despite their nature he was still capable of reading them aloud in English or German, whichever came to his mind first, with absolute clarity.

Then, there were the claims that his machine, his TARDIS, was sentient. Initially, Hermann had dismissed such claims as yet another aspect of his peculiar mind, for although he was a genius, he was still wrong about plenty of things. One time he had caught Newton pondering on the possibility for spiders and cats to communicate, something which Hermann knew would never happen regardless of whatever incredible science Newton managed to pull off. However, when he had complained about the height of his bed being difficult on his bad leg and hip to himself one morning, he ended up finding it had been lowered by the time he got to his bedroom that night. He hadn’t spoken to Newton about it once, but the event wasn’t enough on its own to be any sort of evidence, of course.

Then there was the fact that the TARDIS seemed to know exactly what type of disguise was needed for any occasion. It had been a nasty shock for Hermann when he found out that the machine had the ability to cloak at all, seeing as Newton had, of course, neglected to mention the full extent of its capabilities the first time they travelled together. Hermann had come very close to freaking out when the door that they had gone through had been nowhere in sight until Newton revealed that one of the gumtrees was, in fact, the TARDIS, and that it had merely changed its appearance so it wouldn’t stand out. It was a very useful feature to have, Hermann agreed, but it had also very nearly caused him a heart attack. 

There were other little things, too, like how the rooms he wanted to go to always seemed to appear just as he was thinking about them, or how the kitchen was always magically stocked with foods he enjoyed even though neither he or Newton ever went grocery shopping. Or, at least, they weren’t delivering groceries to the TARDIS’ kitchen. Whenever he was looking for a book in the library, which had ceilings that he could barely see and bookshelves that went all the way up, the first one he picked up was always the one he was looking for, no matter what section he was in. It was clear that the TARDIS had some level of sentience, then, and Hermann was pleased to know that it seemed to like him.

It was on one of their short trips that Newton had decided to tell him a very important piece of information. The short trips dispersed between their longer ones normally involved going to other planets which had supplies for the TARDIS that could not be found on Earth, and for that reason, Hermann normally stayed inside. It wasn’t that he was scared of the idea of aliens or foreign planets, it was more so that he was already very far outside of his comfort zone when they were on Earth regardless of the time period, and so, obviously, the problem would only be exacerbated when in a literal alien environment. 

One of the panels had come loose on the console after a particularly rough landing, and Newton had explained that the complications involved with it had probably led to something akin to a heart palpitation, which then led to the panel loosening. The problem was of an incredibly high priority, because although Newton hadn’t stated as such, the next stop they made was at a dwarf planet which he said was well known for exactly the kind of thing he needed to repair the console. Normally, Newton delayed any fixes until the last possible moment, a combination of procrastination and getting caught up in both of their studies.

Hermann spent the majority of his time waiting for Newton’s return reading through a physics textbook from the twenty-second century. He had been working his way through each decade ever since he’d discovered the TARDIS’ library, careful not to try and read the most advanced books he could find first. Given that the TARDIS seemed to have everything from everywhere regardless of time, he was fairly certain it was a good thing that he did not go for the newest textbook possible. He did not very much fancy the idea of reading something written shortly before the heat death of the universe, at least not yet.

It took a few hours for him to finish his book, although he was fairly certain it would’ve taken him far less time if he hadn’t been adding to or correcting his notes simultaneously. He continued to wait diligently in the console room, his good leg crossed over his bad one, whilst he sat in the rocking chair Newton had grabbed from one of the many rooms of the TARDIS just for him. The gentle humming of the ship was louder than normal, something which he attributed to the loose panel, and although Hermann prided himself on being far more difficult to distract on their adventures than Newton, the mystery of what lay beneath the console was incredibly tempting. 

He looked towards the doors and, after determining that Newton wasn’t about to burst through them, exasperated and apologetic for how long it had taken him just as he normally did, Hermann grabbed his cane and made his way to the console. Whilst on a regular day the only part of the console room that glowed aside from the lights was the pillar in the centre of it, Hermann could identify a yellow light pulsing softly from the areas between the panels that was normally sealed shut. He felt the need to see more of it, to witness what truly lay beneath it, to be able to embrace the light and–

“Hermann!” Being as caught up in his fantasy as he was, Hermann hadn’t even noticed Newton’s return. Now though, with Newton’s hands on his shoulders, pulling him away from the console with a stern and yet concerned look on his face, Hermann was wondering just how he had managed to miss it. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I wasn’t–I hadn’t–I didn’t mean to–” he began to look at the loose panel again, but Newton quickly pulled him away from it, pushing him towards the hallway. The action, although likely not meant to provoke him, angered Hermann. Newton had told him so much about different times and worlds, some of which Hermann would never go to, and yet he wasn’t even allowed to know about what lay beneath the controls of the vehicle they used to travel! “What are you trying to hide under that… thing? What am I not allowed to see?”

Newton paused just long enough for Hermann to wrestle himself out of his hold and turn to face him properly. For all the times he had looked contemplative during his work, whether it be at a new bug species or a fossil that had been known for millennia, Newton would scrunch his brows together, confusion clear in his eyes whilst his frown drifted to the right side of his face. Hermann had memorised every detail of the looks that were most common, determined to know Newton’s emotions just as well as Newton seemed to be able to identify Hermann’s own. This, he knew for certain, was a thoughtful look he had not seen before.

“It’s dangerous, Hermann,” Newton finally decided, skipping over a few things which Hermann desperately needed to know. “That’s why I have to fix it, and quick. It could kill both of us.”

“Well then why keep it?” 

Newton shook his head, as if Hermann was a small child who just simply wouldn’t understand–but he wanted to, was the problem. He wanted for Newton to just tell him things, sometimes. “It’s not about whether I want to keep it or not. It’s the heart of the TARDIS. It’s what keeps this girl running.” He pet one of the walls affectionately as he said the last part. 

Hermann knew it was ridiculous to feel jealous of a machine, regardless of its sentience, and yet he couldn’t help himself. Newton was so openly affectionate with it, treating it as if it were his best friend, even though that was the spot Hermann so desperately wanted to occupy. However, he knew that he could not let the feelings that simmered in his chest, the flames that grew hotter whenever he saw the glimmer that would sometimes enter Newton’s eyes, take hold of him. He stood up straight and tried to draw a neutral expression onto his face. “Tell me why it’s dangerous.”

Newton’s shoulders sagged as relief washed over him like a wave, and it was only then that Hermann realised how abnormally high-strung he had been ever since the panel broke. His eyes were bloodshot and there were deep bags under them, features which he was normally only able to achieve towards the end of his manic episodes. “The heart of the TARDIS needs a host. It settles with the inorganic one it's given because it's all it has, but if given the opportunity it’ll go for an organic host, like you or me. There’s only a select few individuals in the entire known universe that are capable of holding such a large amount of power, and I can guarantee you that neither of us are them.”

It took a moment for the explanation to fully register in Hermann’s mind, but once it finally did, he simply nodded. It made sense that an incredibly large power source would be needed to travel like the TARDIS did, and it also managed to explain why, despite eventually being one of the most powerful races in the universe, humans would never end up being capable of such travel on as controlled or large of a scale. Hermann had just never really thought of the consequences of such a source before.

Seemingly believing that Hermann understood and accepted his reasoning well enough, Newton went back to the console room. Hermann didn’t dare follow him, instead watching from afar as he picked up the materials which he had dropped on the ground and started his work on the broken panel. From what he could see, Newton was not drawn in by the light as he himself had been; instead, the tense expression on his face gave way to complete and total neutrality, as if he had never once been plagued by emotion in his life. Not even the overhanging threat that he knew lay within his own ship, mere inches away from his working hands, seemed to bother him.   

Sometimes, Hermann found Newton to be painfully human, to the point where it made him feel like the alien out of the two of them. Newton could be loud and obnoxious and endlessly charming and he loved Earth despite all of its flaws, from its people to its food to its animals to its landscapes. Hermann had been in his room once before and had barely been surprised to find an entire wall was decorated with an extensive map of the deepest part of the Earth’s oceans, Challenger Deep in the Mariana Trench, with anatomically accurate drawings done in sparkly blue gel pen of where his favourite animals from that specific area were located.

Other times, Newton was so alien that it made him feel disorientated. Normally moments like these happened when they were in between planets, when Newton would open the doors and just stare outside at the stars without hesitation, knowing instinctively that the TARDIS would protect him from the cruel emptiness of space. The stars always carried in his eyes, reflecting the night sky perfectly despite the green of his irises. Now, as he stared at Newton, he could feel himself staring at a man who had died several times before, and he figured that that was the most alien part of him he had discovered so far.

Chapter Text

Hermann had stopped keeping track of the trips a long time ago. The count may have been in the high twenties, perhaps even the low thirties, but he couldn’t be sure. It didn’t really matter, anyways. He could tell time had passed by the way his lower back ached from his poor posture and how the lines on his face had grown deeper and more defined, and that was good enough for him. Newton, despite everything, looked and acted the same as the very first day. 

They had been in a small town in the English north for the past six months, having parked the TARDIS somewhere far enough away in the Moors that nobody would be able to spot it. There wasn’t much in the marsh for it to disguise as, so it ended up looking like a peculiar rock formation, and it was fairly obvious to anyone who frequented the area that it was a new addition. Thankfully, very few people did.

The time period they’d landed in was something relatively close to Hermann’s own time, although there seemed to be a constant dampener in the air that worsened the moods of everyone he came across. Having already studied the understanding of astrophysics during the 1930s, Hermann didn’t see much point in leaving the boarding house he and Newton were staying in unless he was employed for tutoring. He had advertised himself as having a more ‘traditional’ style of teaching after a wink-and-nudge suggestion from Newton, and it had turned out that there was a decent amount of people who were displeased, to say the least, with modern standards. Hermann, of course, taught however he pleased, which was distinctly futuristic for the time.

There was one student in particular that Hermann had taken a liking to. Unlike most of the people who hired him, who were in search of reigning in their more riley teenaged children (something Hermann actively prevented by sneaking books like Metamorphosis into their required reading), she was only looking for someone who could help her better her English. She, too, was from Bavaria, although from the looks of it she’d been born roughly twenty years after he’d left, and was unlikely to have found her way into his circles anyways. A shame, really, given her sharp tongue and mind.

Her name was Vanessa Schiller, and aside from being witty and quick to learn, her personality melded with Hermann’s perfectly. Had it been forty years earlier, Hermann was certain his mother would’ve pushed them to marry. Vanessa was a perfectly good Jewish girl, and it may have been cause for raised eyebrows amongst some peers, but Hermann certainly wasn’t getting any younger! Such sentences would always result in his mother going into coughing fits, overcome by emotion at the mere thought of her youngest boy dying unmarried. Fortunately for both Hermann and Vanessa, it was not forty years ago, and both found themselves only platonically interested in one another.

Normally, Hermann would go out of his way to arrive at his clients’ houses, and he always made sure to do so on time, regardless of the weather or the distance or just how badly his leg was aching. The hours Newton spent exploring the nearby area were too irregular for him to risk one of the smaller-minded townsfolk seeing that the two of them lived together, albeit temporarily, and making assumptions. If it were the future, maybe things would’ve been different; Newton had told him as such. But then he remembered that it was the future, his future, and that if it wasn’t better yet, then he wondered just how long it would take.

Vanessa, however, was the exception, as she continued to prove herself to be. Regardless of whether or not she made assumptions about the nature of Hermann and Newton’s relationship it would not matter, because she could hardly pass judgement on such matters. That’s what Hermann reassured himself. Normally, Newton was gone before she arrived, which had led to much playful teasing that Hermann was only making up his roommate so as to appear less lonely. One morning, however, Vanessa had arrived early and Newton had left late, and so they’d managed to brush shoulders as Newton shot a wink and a ‘have a nice day’ whilst leaving for the Moors. After explaining that that , of all people, had been the ever-mysterious Newton, Vanessa had laughed and said, “So, when’s the anniversary?” 

Hermann spluttered, some tea spilling from his cup and collecting on the saucer and his sweater vest. It was long due for a clean, but he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the wool anyways. “Excuse me?”

Vanessa frowned. “Oh, is that not the right English word? Sorry, ah… wann ist–”

“No, no,” Hermann shook his head, placing his teacup and saucer on the coffee table as he tried to wring his sweater vest dry. It was unfortunately a bit too late, and so he pulled it off, folding it in his lap so that the damp spot wouldn’t spread as much. At least Newton wouldn’t be able to complain as much about him smelling of mothballs. “I’m just… confused as to what you could possibly be referring to.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as Vanessa only seemed to grow more confused. Her textbooks and reading material lay forgotten on the table, but as Hermann tried to reach for it, she batted his hand away. “I’m referring to you and Newton,” she said, as if it were obvious.

“Yes, and…?”

“‘And’ what?” she asked. “I was under the impression the two of you were exclusive!”

“What?” Hermann imagined he was quite the picture in that moment, his manky vest resting on his lap like a blanket, far more exposed than he was used to, his eyes as wide as dinner plates and his mouth seemingly refusing to work properly. “Newton and I are not—honestly, what on Earth—I never—!”

“Oh, don’t pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about,” Vanessa rolled her eyes, instantly managing to revert to the dictionary definition of composed whilst Hermann continued to flounder, “the way you talk about him is like a wife who’s husband has gone off to sea. All doting and compliments, even when he’s never home. Many would be jealous of your devotion to him, you know."

There could, perhaps, be something to be said for his dedication to Newton. Hermann’s… affections for Newton, whilst not given a proper name, were not exactly well-hidden. Despite his oftentimes incredulous nature, Newton was the closest friend he had ever had. The things he taught Hermann of were commonly incredible and beautiful, from the merging of galaxies to the evolution of a species, and yet he never tried to sugarcoat the horrors that often came alongside it all. He was loud and brash, yes, but he also showed a softer, more careful side to Hermann that he found himself increasingly infatuated with. It was a mere bonus that he was also pleasant on the eyes.

It would have been less embarrassing, Hermann believed, if there had been an ‘oh’ moment where everything clicked into place. Instead, he had been fully aware of how he would stare longingly at Newton at times, only looking away when he was scared of being noticed, or how he thought of making him smile and laugh so that his eyes nearly closed and he threw his head back, as if the force of his laughter was too much. Hermann knew that he would have gone anywhere and done anything for Newton the moment he saw the blue-purple arm of the Milky Way cut across the Australian sky, not because of the beauty of the stars, but because of the beauty of the man standing beside him.

“I know,” Hermann said, picking up his teacup with shaky hands, the tea still warm enough to drink. “I’m afraid, however, that he doesn’t. It is for that reason that I do not tell him such things.”

Vanessa frowned. “But–”

“Newton is a smart man,” he continued, “and if he wants to know something he will figure it out for himself. If he has not figured out how I feel for him by this point, then…” Hermann distracted himself by cleaning up the porcelain after he trailed off, but Vanessa was not as ready to drop the subject as he was.

“You’re stubborn, you know,” she said, shaking her head, “and not even for your own benefit.”

“My father used to tell me the same thing.” The tension that settled in the room was twice as thick as the fog over the Moors and Hermann wished that it had been just as hard to see through. Instead he felt more seen than he ever had been before, as if Vanessa had opened his skull and picked through his brain. His affections for Newton were his and his alone, meant to be unseen and unheard outside of his own mind, and Vanessa had blatantly breached the boundaries that he hadn’t told her about. It was a ridiculous thing to be upset over, but Newton was a ridiculous man, and he had been a truly horrible influence on him.

After Vanessa’s tutoring session for the day was complete, Hermann went to the Moors to find the TARDIS. Even if the rocks it had disguised itself as weren’t garishly obvious amidst the swamp grass and low bushes, he still would have been able to detect where it was; the humming and buzzing of the machine seemed to almost form a language in his mind now, and whether it was because the TARDIS was talking to him or because Newton had managed to convince him it was, was still up for his own personal debate. In the quiet of the marsh, with nothing but the howling wind and bone-chilling sleet to accompany him, the TARDIS seemed louder than ever. 

Light streamed from the gaps in the rocks as the doors opened for him. It was just big enough that if Hermann hunched over, he would fit through without bumping his head. It was not entirely comfortable on account of his bad leg, but he supposed it was better than the alternative, and that the TARDIS had taken such matters into account when choosing its disguise. He ran his hand over the rocks as if petting a cat’s back before making his way inside.

A part of him had expected to see Newton hunched over the console, to be able to point and say ‘aha!’. That part of him had been expecting Newton’s science experiments to have been excuses for him to leave and travel across the universe, to do any variety of things before arriving back in time to have dinner at the pub underneath the boarding house with him. The console room was empty, however, and in fact looked exactly how he remembered it looking the last time he’d been inside several months ago. The floors were entirely clean, something which would not have been possible if Newton had been inside seeing as Hermann left marshwater behind him the further inside he walked.

It was easier to say Newton had not yet noticed Hermann’s inclinations if the reason was that he had grown bored of travelling alongside him. Hermann had crafted the entire scenario in his head; he would discover Newton tinkering away inside the TARDIS after coming back from a secret trip, covered in some sort of strange alien gunk he’d been studying, and Hermann would tell him that he’d figured it out. That Hermann was boring him. That he had been trying to leave Hermann behind in a place he would like (because although it would feel cruel for Newton to leave him, he was not so cruel as to abandon him someplace he hated. Newton could never be that cruel) so that he could go off on adventures without Hermann dragging him down.

Instead, it had all been flipped on its head. Almost as soon as Hermann rested his free hand on the console the doors opened once more, the fog trailing in around Newton as he stood stock still in the doorway. They stared at each other in silence until the icy chill began to make Hermann shiver, upon which Newton marched in, the doors automatically closing behind him, removing his jacket and tossing it over the railing encircling the console so he could wrap Hermann up in his arms. Newton’s hands were colder than the air had been and their claminess reminded Hermann of the skin of a few-hours-old corpse, but the wool sweater he wore with the too-long sleeves that covered the bottom of his palms and the little lizards sewn around the hems of each one was warm and dry where the jacket had covered it.

The combination should not have been heart-warming or comforting by any means, but Newton had a way of destroying Hermann’s preconceived notions of even the smallest of things. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, too big to form words, and he wondered if Newton felt the same as all Hermann could do was return the embrace.

“How did you know I was here?” Hermann’s clumsy mouth asked. He had been hoping to say something related to what had been haunting his conscience for the past week, maybe two, maybe more, but there was still hope yet.

Newton ended the hug and Hermann cursed himself for saying something, for ruining the rare moment of genuine affection. If he had known what a big mistake it would be to mention his distaste for physical displays of affection to Newton he would never have done such a thing, as he already found himself missing the feel of the slightly scratchy wool under his hands. From the pocket of his corduroys (dreadfully futuristic for the time they’d settled in, but he’d refused to part from them once he’d found them) Newton produced a small device that was shorter than Hermann’s thumb. 

“A remote alarm,” Newton answered, waving it close to Hermann’s face so as to show off the slowly blinking red light. “I have it in case anybody breaks into the TARDIS or if, y’know, one of us accidentally forgets to lock the doors and someone just walks in. It went off and so I ran over here. Good thing it’s just you, huh?”

Hermann shook his head. “Newton, I don’t have a key. I couldn’t lock the doors if I tried.” It was an odd part of the explanation to hone in on, and Hermann knew it, but he didn’t want to know what could possibly break into the TARDIS, or would want to for that matter. He was fairly certain that it was a solely scientific vehicle, and even though it was a technological marvel by his own standards, the extensive range of places that seemed to have repair parts readily available had led Hermann to assume that it was one of a wide variety of time- and/or space-travelling machines in the universe. Newton had also told him, repeatedly, that ‘other aliens are good, promise!’ but it wasn’t as if other humans would exactly know what a TARDIS was, let alone how to break into one.

“What do you mean you don’t have a key?” Newton asked incredulously, as if the mere idea was completely unknown to him. It was a tone that he did not take up often, seeing as Newton seemed to know at least a little bit of something about everything they came across, and so Hermann allowed himself to cherish the moment. Said moment was entirely occupied by the sound of Newton rummaging through his pockets for something before he pulled out a key hanging from a thin piece of string, like a pendant on a necklace. 

The key was then shoved into Hermann’s chest, as if holding it by the string any longer would burn Newton’s skin. He dropped it unceremoniously into Hermann’s palm the moment it was waiting beneath it, although Newton’s incoherent babbling to the TARDIS seemed to imply that it mattered a lot more than his actions let on. There was still, however, the earlier thought still weighing on his mind; surely, if Newton truly did wish to spend time with him, he would not spend so much of their expeditions together in places which Hermann would not be?

“Why do you let me keep travelling with you?” he asked even as he put the key around his neck. The cold of the metal was softened by the layers protecting his skin, only leaving the faint weight of it on his chest, a subtle reminder of its existence. 

Newton looked up from the console, staring at where the key rested before glancing up to meet Hermann’s gaze. His eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled, something soft and wise that made it seem like he knew more than he appeared to. Hermann knew better than to assume otherwise, but he would be lying if he said Newton’s boyish face had not tricked him once or twice before. “You never said anything about wanting to leave.”

“And I don’t,” Hermann clarified quickly, terrified by the mere notion. Newton laughed, patting Hermann’s back affectionately. The strength of it was able to put Hermann slightly off-balance, but he was otherwise grateful for the touch. “And, ah… if it is no trouble, I’d much enjoy a change of pace.”

“The 30s not cutting it for you?” Newton asked, although he didn’t seem to be bothered. Hermann thought back to what Vanessa had said to him earlier that day and shook his head.

“It’s not that, I just… Well, I’d like to see what else the world has to offer. Or, perhaps… other worlds?” Hermann knew that there was no possible way that Newton could deny his request at the prospect of showing Hermann around a world he had never seen before, so it may have perhaps been slightly manipulative of him to let that part slip, but it wasn’t exactly untrue. It was just slightly biased information. 

“I know exactly where to go,” Newton said, unable to hide the excited way in which his hands shook even as he began pacing around the console, fiddling with the controls to get them exactly where he wanted to be. “You’re going to love it, Hermann, it’s like the whole damn planet was made for you!” Hermann smiled, not doubting a single word his companion said.

Chapter Text

Language had been Hermann’s main concern when travelling to new worlds. Earth had a lot of languages on its own, some of which Hermann could never hope to understand, but he knew German and he knew English and bits and pieces of other languages too. His mouth could fit the words that came out of it and his lungs were capable of holding enough breath to say even the longest of words. The languages of hundreds of thousands of other worlds were far too much for him, and so he often hid away in his room whenever Newton invited him on a tour of a foreign planet.

That wasn’t the only barrier; cultures, customs, and the ability to simply get around with his cane were also concerns, but Newton had never forgotten to debrief Hermann on the nature of where they would be staying or otherwise account for his restrictions before. Although he sometimes did forget that Hermann could not speak whatever strange language it was that he wrote or muttered to himself (and he hoped that it was forgetfulness and not Newton hiding something from him), it was simply accidental.

This planet, however, was meant to be perfect for him, and he trusted Newton’s word as if it were gospel. Regardless of his reassurances, however, it still took Hermann a few more minutes to gain the confidence to step out of the TARDIS’ doors into the new, unknown world. He had, per Newton’s advice, shed his blazer so that he was wearing three layers as opposed to his usual four, but the heat was still intense and he found himself wanting to take his sweater off as well. It was a pleasant change from the blistering cold of England and the throbbing pain running through his bad leg that such weather caused, at least.

They had landed close to an ocean, so close that if Hermann took four big steps forwards he would be ankle-deep in the waves. The mere idea of salt water in his socks and shoes was distinctly unpleasant, and he didn’t want to ruin the varnish on his cane, so he stayed far enough away that the foam would not be able to reach him. Newton, however, threw all caution to the wind, rolling up the cuffs of his ridiculous corduroys and tossing his shoes and socks to the ground, going so far that the ocean reached halfway up his calves. His jeans were ruined.

“What planet is this?” Hermann asked, eyeing the purple-blue sand beneath his feet. If it were not for the foam on the waves he imagined it would’ve been incredibly difficult to determine where the beach ended and the ocean began. 

“On Earth it’s known as KL-9065 until the 24th century,” Newton said. He grabbed something from his pocket and tossed it to Hermann. He caught it, thankfully, although it had taken some fumbling and a single close call. It was an add-on for the bottom of his cane to make it easy to use on the damp sand, and Hermann smiled. “After establishing contact with the people from this world, humans discovered its actual name was ‘Kiki-Ariaki,’ which roughly means ‘World of Cliffs.’”

After ensuring he’d put the extension on correctly, Hermann took a second to look around. The ocean stretched as far as the eye could see, splitting the world between the purple-blue ocean and the pinkish sky. The mechanics of such a thing were certainly foreign, Hermann figured, as if the strangely coloured sand had not convinced him enough already. The colour of the ocean on Earth derived from the sky, but here such a thing was clearly not the case. Regardless, there were no cliffs to be seen.

“I can’t imagine why,” he said firmly, frowning until he saw Newton’s mischievous grin, his gaze focused on something behind him. Hermann turned around and, aside from the TARDIS, which had elected to take the form of one of the small brightly-coloured beach houses he’d seen the last time he and Newton visited Australia, his entire view was taken up by monstrous cliffs the size of skyscrapers. “Ah,” he said, “I see.”

Newton waded out of the water to link his arm up with Hermann’s free one, dragging him away from the TARDIS and along the shore. He didn’t even dare protest, too awestruck by the sight of the cliffs towering above him to do more than lift his feet and cane to make it easier for Newton. A winding ramp was cut into the cliffside, tucked away just enough that Hermann hadn’t seen it initially, and he was thankful that Newton was there to ground him because he was certain that otherwise he’d give up and go back to the TARDIS.

Dug into the cliffs was a long corridor that led to an array of different rooms. It had no door, meaning there were pockmarks close to the outside where the salty ocean spray had eroded the ground, just like the rocks and the ramp. Hermann figured it was roughly three stories off the ground, but the heat combined with the walking meant he was sweating through his clothes and was beginning to feel deeply uncomfortable.

People, aliens , were walking around, some looking as if they had places to be whilst others loitered outside of doors or with their backs pressed against the walls like delinquents. They looked nothing like the little green men from Mars of myth, although their skin was just too pink for it to look human. Their hands lacked palms, as if someone had simply elongated a person’s fingers before sticking them to the end of their arms, although the fingertips were large and round like a lizard’s. Every single one that passed was long and skinny to the point of being gangly, akin to a newborn giraffe, although nobody that Hermann could see had shaky knees or stooped necks. If it weren’t for Newton beside him, he imagined he would find them rather intimidating.

“Kiki-Ariaki is known for its advanced knowledge on astrophysics and math, Hermann,” Newton said with pride. “If you ever get tired of the TARDIS’ library, then you can just pick a time and I’ll take us here. You could go to university and- and learn about dark matter and string theory and all that other shit you’re into.”

“Why do you insist on pretending you have no knowledge of my field of study?” Hermann asked, although he was smiling. “You run a bloody space-time machine, and besides, I’ve seen your notes and criticisms in the workbooks I’ve read. They’re impossible to avoid.”

That comment earned him a light bump at the hip, not enough to make him stumble but just enough to make him readjust his footing. Despite his teasing, he could not help but think about what a pleasant offer it was; aside from Earth, Newton had made sure to avoid going to the same planet twice, and even then he typically avoided going to the same time. He had never stated the reason as to why, but he didn’t need to—Hermann was fairly certain he’d figured it out on his own. He couldn’t imagine other places would take very kindly to two aliens who seemingly refused to age visiting their planet.

Earth, he supposed, was the exception. They were both human, or at least, looked human enough, because although he’d never stated it openly, Newton’s skin was far too cold and he knew far too much and he had a godforsaken time machine . There were also the times when Newton would wake from a nightmare and totter to Hermann’s room, dried tears on his cheeks, and sleep in his bed with his head tucked on his chest for comfort. In those moments, Hermann would be able to feel the strange, alien beat of Newton’s heart, and if the coolness of his skin wasn’t enough, the thoughts that his heartbeat incurred were plenty to keep Hermann awake.

Nobody else, however, would know these things. To most everyone else, Newton appeared to be a completely and totally regular human being. Hermann viewed it as a privilege, to know such intimate things as the chill of Newton’s fingers or the double heartbeat that echoed in his wrists. The thought of it alone made Hermann’s cheeks flush pink, a hold over of his, quote, ‘Victorian sensibilities’ that Newton would often tease him for. He pretended to mind, but he didn’t really. It was all a bit ridiculous, after all. 

Newton opened his mouth to make one of his playful retorts, the mischievous look in his eyes that meant he was inviting a joking argument, when a person ran right between them. The alien’s side knocked into Hermann's, almost sending him toppling over until Newton caught him. “Hey! Watch where you’re going!” he yelled at their assailant. Even though he couldn’t see their face, it was still incredibly clear that whoever it was wasn’t from Kiki-Ariaki, or at least wasn’t from whatever part of the planet they were on; they were far too short and their skin was far too blue, not to mention they had an extra set of arms sprouting from their elbows.

Shortly after Hermann had righted himself (with Newton’s assistance, of course), another stranger came up to them. In their hand was a device with a miniature satellite dish that spun around and emitted a ding! , but that was the most stereotypically alien part about them. They appeared to be, from the outside at least, entirely human, from their buzzcut to their leather jacket that was almost identical to Newton’s, their sticking-out ears to their wrinkled face. Hermann, however, knew better. He was travelling with Newton, after all.

“Have you two come into contact with any troubled- or panicked-looking aliens running this way?” he asked, slightly out of breath and, more notably in Hermann’s opinion, with a distinct English accent. Newton pointed the stranger in the direction the other alien had run off in. “Thanks. You two have a good rest of your day," he said, rushing off.

Hermann had known for obvious reasons that Newton was not the only one of his kind. He was not the only one that carried stars in his eyes or strange little devices in his pockets, who chased after adventure and mystery with the wonder of a child. It was still strange, however, to actually meet someone else who had those same features Hermann had come to see as so incredibly Newton , that defined him so wholly and perfectly. It seemed that it was strange for Newton, too. His face had paled and his eyes had widened as if he’d just seen a ghost.

“Are you alright, Newton?” Hermann asked, reaching out to hold Newton’s arm. He immediately pulled his hand away when Newton flinched. Clearly the mere sight of the man had deeply affected him, even if the other hadn’t recognised him. Perhaps another aspect of time travel, then. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Newton looked at him with eyes full of longing, a desperation for something it seemed he didn’t think Hermann could give him. Hermann wanted so desperately to help Newton in whatever way he could, so much so that he had resolved he would move the entire damned Earth if Newton requested it of him. But alas, he had not yet told Newton as such. “Not yet, Hermann.”

‘Not yet’ was not ‘no,’ and so Hermann nodded dutifully, determined to bring his friend’s mood back to its regular joviality. Whilst they did not run into the two aliens again, the encounter had clearly thrown Newton off, and it hung over his head for the rest of their stop like a grey cloud. Even when he was showing the library carved into the rock that stretched from the sea level to the top of the cliff, Newton could not bring himself to be truly excited. His voice was still shrill and he still shouted far too much, of course, but there was a subdued quality to it that Hermann noticed; Newton had never been particularly good at hiding his emotions, after all.

It was only when they were getting back to the TARDIS that Hermann noticed how easy it had been for him to get around on his own, to talk and read and write alongside the alien language in the books and written on the signs of the library. If he thought about it a little harder, he could almost swear that the mouths of the people he’d overheard speaking English had been moving slightly wrong, as if someone had recorded over the footage of someone else speaking. Newton had told him that such things were a common occurrence in the future, when people wanted to watch a film from a foreign country but wanted to forgo subtitled translations.

“Newton,” he said, right outside the doors. Newton was already inside, but he quickly hopped out as if concerned Hermann wasn’t following him. “The people of this planet don’t speak English, do they?”

Newton hesitated, his eyes flitting about, refusing to meet Hermann’s gaze. “No, they don’t. The TARDIS is outfitted with a translation circuit, and her telepathic abilities means she can translate for you so long as she acknowledges that you’re travelling with us.”

“The TARDIS is telepathic? ”

“Shit, you didn’t know?” Newton was verging on panic, which seemed deeply unearned considering Hermann should’ve been verging on panic but decidedly wasn’t . “Oh my god, Hermann, I’m so, so sorry, I thought I told you, I thought–”

“Newton!” Hermann latched onto his friend’s arm to ground him, searching his eyes for the spark of inquiry and wonder that he adored amidst the sea of anxiousness that had flooded them. They were a pure green, his pupils contracted so that they were little more than pinpricks, but as they continued to stare at each other, Hermann’s slower breathing slowly brought Newton back down, his pupils dilated, and the wonder returned. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice breaking, “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“You didn’t. And don’t apologise.”

“I’m–” Newton stopped himself when Hermann shot him a sharp look. “Okay. I won’t apologise. No more apologies from me, ever.”

“Now, that’s not what I–”

“Nope! Too late, Hermann. Now, are you ready to yell at me for not telling you about the TARDIS’ telepathic translation circuits or what?”

There were still unshed tears in Newton’s eyes, his smile was still shaky and sclera still red-tinged. Overall, it looked as if a small breeze could send him into hysterics. “I was more concerned by what you were saying that she wouldn’t translate.”

For a split second Newton had brightened, like a flower bud blooming at the first touch of the sun’s rays, and Hermann could only assume it was at his usage of the feminine pronoun in relation to the TARDIS. The machine still deeply puzzled him, but the telepathic circuits did make sense, even if thinking about the logistics of such a thing made his head hurt just a tad. Newton then soured, however, as the rest of Hermann’s sentence sunk in.

“Is this another ‘not yet?’” Hermann asked, not bothering to hide the way his brows furrowed or his lips downturned.

Newton looked back to the inside of the TARDIS, which seemed to hum louder as he did so. If Hermann paid all of his attention to the gentle whirs and beeps generating from the console room, he could almost swear that they sounded like words. “Yeah,” Newton said after a short while. “It is.”

Chapter Text

Trips thereafter became shorter and involved a far wider array of places that Hermann would never have thought possible. It was clear that Newton was no longer intimidated by the idea of scaring Hermann away with the far-off wonders of the universe, whether they be the distant past when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, or the edges of the galaxy with stars that burned white-blue. The sight of Newton, so incredibly in love with the universe from its atomic structure to the supermassive black holes that destroyed it, made Hermann’s heart ache with want.

He followed him dutifully, heart leaping to his throat whenever Newton would reach for his hand and take it in his, knowing that regardless of whether they were about to take off running after something or slow down to stare, Newton wanted him at his side. He could cope with their purely platonic relationship, he figured, so long as Newton continued to hold his hand. The large, bright smiles that he was given was a mere bonus.

This time, Newton had taken him to the 1970s to see a band that he liked–before they got big and started selling out every show that they announced. It was… nice, Hermann decided, to be able to see something so quaint. Newton’s excited grin was contagious, and even though his singing was certainly not the greatest, Hermann didn’t even mind.

The band had not been of Hermann’s typical taste, although if what Newton had told him was accurate (and he believed it to be so), that sort of music had not been commonplace for a near century by the current time period. Even though Newton tended to ease Hermann into the changes of culture on Earth more than he did alien planets, the things he found out still managed to shock him. Music, of all the things humanity had invented, had seemed to be one of the few constants it possessed, at least prior to the introduction of instruments like guitars and saxophones.

They had been walking around London after the show, debating over whether to try and find a hotel to stay the night or just sleep inside the TARDIS, when Hermann heard his name being called. He ignored it at first, seeing as the only one who feasibly could have known his name was Newton, and they were already deep in conversation with one another, but the call kept growing louder and louder. By the time Hermann caved in and turned to see whoever was calling his name, the person had already gotten close enough to reach out so that their fingers brushed against his forearm. 

The likelihood of an encounter with Vanessa had been astronomically low. Hermann knew that with absolute certainty, had calculated the chances every single time before they landed somewhere in England after the 30s, moreso to comfort himself than Newton despite his hang-ups about things like being recognised. If it hadn’t been for the terms of their parting, Hermann would have called the encounter ‘lucky’. As things were, however, it was very much the opposite.

Vanessa's hair was greying and clearly had not seen a straightener for quite some time, nothing like the short jet black bob she had kept in her youth that only had the slightest curl at the bottom. In the forty years since she'd seen him last, a timespan of which Hermann was unsure he had passed himself, she had gained the beginning of liver spots on the backs of her hands, more wrinkles had formed alongside her smile lines, and her eyes, which had once been bright and full of life, had grown sad and almost dewy-looking. 

“Hermann?” she asked again, all of the confidence in her voice lost as she acknowledged the wide-eyed look on Hermann’s face. “Is it really you?”

Hermann reached for her outstretched hand and held it gently, as if she was royalty. He was distantly aware of Newton stopping beside him, drawing himself to his full height (still far shorter than either Hermann or Vanessa) as if threatened by her. Hermann waited for Vanessa to smile before pulling her into a hug, his cane still placed firmly on the ground so that he wouldn’t put too much weight on her, even if it meant he could only embrace her with one arm. She hugged him as if she was scared he would disappear, and he could not blame her for thinking so.

“It’s been so long,” she said, hands clasping around the back of his chest as if forming a prayer. Does she know He is not there? Does she know and pray anyway? Hermann was not sure when he had become so certain of such things, when they changed from mathematical speculation to fact in his mind, but it must’ve been when he was with Newton. There was no other option. “I was beginning to think I made you up. The last Hermann Gottlieb I could find that matched your description was from–”

“1895. Born in 1874,” he said with certainty. Vanessa ended the hug first as if his words had broken her out of her reverie, but then looked to where Newton had been standing. Hermann followed her gaze, and that was how he realised that Newton had left. Hermann felt his heart ache, somehow guilty-feeling over how he had not noticed his friend’s disappearance even though he failed to announce it. He thought he had gotten so good at reading him that sometimes he forgot that there was so much he could still never know. So many “not yet”s and even more “no”s. 

“You were with Newton,” Vanessa said, bringing Hermann back down to Earth. Humanity often felt so far away now. Sometimes Hermann forgot. She studied his face–deep brown, almost black eyes picking through his mind as if he hadn’t been gone at all. As if he was still her English tutor and friend, one of which was still true. Hermann wasn’t sure that they were on the same page as to which one it was. “Neither of you have aged a day, how is that possible?”

Vanessa’s hands were on his shoulders, tethering him to the ground, a steel pole connected to a hot air balloon keeping it from flying away. Poetry was human, this was human, but he wasn’t sure he liked it anymore. "...What are you?" she asked, slowly, her hands leaving him like a knotted rope being untied. Hermann was a hot air balloon, being set free. He didn't want to be human. 

He was uncertain as to how long it had been since he saw his family last. He knew that it had been years but the exact number eluded him, and when he looked in mirrors either in his bathroom on the TARDIS or in any of the many places they had stayed in on their travels, he looked nearly the exact same as the day he had left. His clothes had changed and his cane had grown more weathered and perhaps, if a coloured photo was presented to him, Hermann would be able to say his hair had become a lighter brown from the sun, but there was almost no sign of the ageing process.

He remembered, then, what Newton had said about his father. Despite how he did at first glance appear to be Hermann’s age, if not younger, there was no doubt that he was far, far older; if not twice his age, then more. It was something that could only be seen in his eyes and from the distant look they would at times acquire, but even then, Hermann found himself wondering if it really was as blatant of a give-away as he thought, or if he simply spent too much time staring at the swirling, bright, alien greens of his irises.

“Human,” he said, and even though it was the truth, it felt wrong. “Just like you.” 

Vanessa had settled down in London some time in the past decade, having apparently decided that the small town in the moors wasn’t what she needed. She chatted pleasantly enough with Hermann about what life had been like after he and Newton had disappeared, how the judgemental looks never really stopped any time she mentioned how she never wanted to be married, and how distraught the more conservative parents were to find that their children of which Hermann had tutored had not magically rid themselves of his anti-capitalist doctrine the moment he had vanished. She poured two cups of tea as she continued to ramble, and although Hermann was thankful, he couldn’t help but feel disconnected from it all.

It was not as if he was unaware as to what changes had caused him to reanalyse the mundane happenings of human life under a new lens. Whilst before he had been more than content to hop around Earth’s timeline, staying in certain places he felt more comfortable in for months or, sometimes, over a year at a time, the introduction of alien worlds had… broadened his horizons, somewhat. What had once been so intimidating, the mere prospect of setting foot on the rocks, soil, or sand of a planet so far away from his own, had become nearly addictive. An adequate replacement for his once awful smoking habit, Hermann supposed. Newton wouldn’t let him anywhere near a cigarette so long as they were regularly boarding the TARDIS.

Speaking of, the man’s sudden leave had not been forgotten by Hermann. It was rather the opposite, really; he was trying desperately to figure out just what could have caused Newton to wander off without so much as a word, and the longer Hermann pondered, the deeper into conspiracy he became. It wasn’t as if he had some form of claim over Newton’s thoughts as his closest friend–such a thing would be ridiculous to assume, no matter how much Hermann sometimes wished he did. It would at least mean he would be able to know what had caused him to run away.

“You’re not paying attention,” Vanessa said, waving a hand in front of Hermann’s face. He shook himself out of his thoughts quickly, before carefully picking up the tea Vanessa had poured for him and taking a sip. It wasn’t scalding, but it still burned his tongue, and the bitterness was familiar. Not something he’d had in a while, not with Newton’s adoration for cold, sugary drinks like milkshakes and iced coffees with far too much whipped cream, but it was familiar. A nice change of pace.

“I apologise,” Hermann responded, once he finished his sip. “I haven’t exactly been the most… grounded, as of late.” Hermann allowed himself a chuckle, although Vanessa didn’t find his joke anywhere close to being funny. A pity, really. He had thought he was getting better at lightening the mood. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Vanessa asked, borderline incredulous. The disapproval and distaste in her tone struck Hermann’s nerves, and the ungentlemanly part of himself thought of snapping back with twice as much venom, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Vanessa was his friend. Although, he wasn’t entirely sure if that was the right word for their peculiar situation; she hadn’t seen him for decades after all. How long had it been for himself? “Are you meaning to tell me you’ve been spacing out this entire time?”

“Something like that,” Hermann shot back without a moment’s hesitation.

“Will you stop being so vague! I always remembered you as being so… direct! What happened, Hermann? Where were you? What did you do? Why did you leave?” The final question hung over both of their heads, unasked and, for the same reasons, unanswered; why didn’t you say goodbye? 

Hermann allowed himself to truly look at Vanessa, to analyse just how much she’d changed in the years that had passed. Mere physical features were in no way all-encompassing, especially in regards to the personality of an individual, and he supposed that his attempts to summarise all that had changed by noting her wrinkles and greying hair had been, for lack of a better word, foolish. Hermann would be the first to admit he had never been particularly sociable, often retreating to the confines of his own bedroom well into his teenage years during gatherings at the family home that would typically spill over into the second and even third drawing rooms, but he had been getting better. With Newton’s assistance, of course.

The years had clearly hardened Vanessa’s once endlessly inquisitive mind—not to say that she wasn’t curious anymore, only that it was directed towards things other than it once had been—and turned her once endless optimism into something else. There was no word for it that he could think of, but it was something akin to melancholy. Her German accent, once thick and impossible to disguise, had been replaced with a vaguely English one, and Hermann already knew why. If the forty-or-so years would have been harsh enough on Hermann and his… eccentricities, he didn’t even want to think of what Vanessa had had to stomach. They had been friends, and he hadn't even been there to support her. What kind of friend did that make him, then?

“I’ve been travelling with Newton, but you wouldn’t exactly believe me if I told you where.” Supposedly, humanity only managed to reach the moon in 1969, something which had greatly shocked Hermann considering some of his colleagues’ ambitions, and so it was only natural to assume that telling Vanessa he had been travelling through not only space, but time, would be a bit much to swallow. He was aware of how unsatisfying his answer must have been, but as far as he was concerned, it was the truth. It would be another few hundred years before humanity would even attempt to travel beyond their own solar system, after all.

Vanessa, however, seemed ready to prove him wrong. "Try me."

Her jaw was set, eyes hardened into what could almost be described as a glare. She was challenging Hermann to say no to her, to prove what she had said to him all of those years ago right. To prove that he was stubborn, to prove that he was lacking in the reason and resolve that he prided himself on if something else got in the way. Vanessa, even all these years since Hermann had last seen her, still managed to be the most convincing person he had ever met.

“Alright. I’ll tell you. I hope you are comfortably seated.” 

By the time Hermann had finished recounting his story, his cup of tea had long gone cold and undrinkable. The sun had begun to settle on the horizon, casting bright orange sunbeams through the blinds and onto the brown carpet. Vanessa, to her credit, had remained enraptured the entire time, although it was clear that the information, whether it be by content or length, was weighing on her greatly; her posture, which had started out straightened and polite, had gradually drooped until she sat with slumped shoulders and her elbows on her knees to keep herself upright. Her eyes closed halfway, as if she couldn’t open them any further, and she looked unspeakably tired. It could’ve been her age, but she hadn’t looked nearly as bad when they had started their conversation.

Hermann chanced a glance at his wristwatch, frowning when he saw just how long it had been since they had reunited. He had managed to spend three whole hours in Vanessa’s company, barely aware of the passage of time. Normally he wouldn’t pay much mind, but normally Newton didn’t disappear without explanation or, seemingly, reason. He didn’t want Newton to fret over him and where he was if he arrived back at the TARDIS to find he wasn’t there, but he didn’t want to abandon Vanessa again; it was already bad enough that he had the first time, now that he had seen what effect it had had on her.

She had adjusted well, given how Hermann had been her tutor and closest friend for nearly a year before leaving without a trace. It wasn’t as if she would have had many other people to talk to—after all, Hermann hadn’t exactly made his presence well-known within the village, and Newton had been borderline avoidant of the townsfolk—but she had managed. He might even go so far as to say that she had done well for herself, with her cosy house filled with porcelain trinkets of her liking. Everything was well-worn and well-loved, an echo of what life looked like forty, thirty, twenty years ago. It warmed his heart.

Hermann stood from his seat and cleared his throat, drawing Vanessa’s attention. “I believe it’s time I left,” he said, with all the unfamiliarity of a friend of a friend, as if he and the Hermann that had tutored her so long ago were only superficially the same. “Newton will be waiting for me, I expect. It doesn’t do good to keep him waiting, he really is the most impatient man.”

He made to leave before Vanessa could protest, but she grabbed him by the arm. Despite her old age, her grip was strong. “I have one more question,” she said, and Hermann couldn’t bring himself to deprive her of the answer. If it was the last time he ever saw her, he didn’t want to leave her still unsatisfied. He nodded his permission. “What is so enticing about him?”

Hermann blinked. “Pardon?”

“Perhaps I misspoke. Clearly he finds you just as difficult to part from as you do him, otherwise you wouldn’t be so concerned, right?” Vanessa shook her head when Hermann didn’t immediately respond, as if disappointed he didn’t understand what she was trying to say. She tried again. “Why do you go with him?”

Seconds seemed to tick by slower than usual, painfully so, as Hermann tried to figure out how to respond. He supposed Vanessa had a point in wondering just what it was that made Newton so special to him, what kept drawing him back in even when he was seemingly content. It was an understandable mistake to make, that of assuming that Newton had been the reason for Hermann’s sudden disappearance. After all, out of the two of them, Newton had been the more physically distant one. That didn’t stop Hermann from being distant in a mental sort of sense, though.

“I don’t think I’m meant to stay anywhere,” he finally decided, although he said the words with far more caution than he had everything else he’d said that day. “Nothing ever feels right. Nothing ever needs me.”

“I was your friend, Hermann. I needed you.” Vanessa’s eyes were watery, and it was then that Hermann felt more shame than he had ever felt before. He couldn’t possibly think of something to respond to that with, he couldn’t belittle Vanessa like that. So instead, he waited for Vanessa’s hand to let go of his arm before he walked out of her house, staring resolutely at the ground. 

Figuring it would do himself good to try and take his mind off Vanessa’s parting words as he tried to find the TARDIS, Hermann began taking note of the cobbles and concrete beneath his feet. The stones were drab and grey, although smoothed over from years of wear as people tread on them going from home to school, work, or the shops. Concrete didn’t offer any story nearly as exciting, except for the rare instance in which someone had written their name in it or something else along those lines while it was still drying. The surface was at least easier for his cane, though, and the grass and weeds that sprung up in the cracks were nice to look at. 

Roads were another beast entirely. Although he’d crossed plenty before on his travels, he’d scarcely done so on his own, and none anywhere near as densely populated by cars as the ones that populated London in the 70s. Hermann had never been the most consciously thankful of things before, seeing as he typically spent far more time thinking of more important things (such as whatever mathematical equation was troubling him at the time), but he was two streets away from becoming lost at any moment and desperately needed to keep track of where he was. It wasn’t too much of a surprise when he found himself mentally thanking the city planners for being so liberal with their placements of stoplights and crosswalks.

Hermann had just managed to find the concert hall which Newton had taken him to when a friendly voice called out to him. “Hermann! There you are!” There was barely enough time for him to brace himself before Newton had put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a half-hug. It was bad enough that he used seemingly all his weight to pull Hermann down to his height, but what was worse was that he didn’t even mind; if anything, he found it to be endearing.

“I wandered off for a second to give you and that nice lady some privacy and the next thing I know, boom, you’re gone!” Newton was laughing, just as jovial as ever, seemingly having completely forgotten about how he had bristled up the moment he recognised Vanessa. Hermann wasn’t stupid—he knew Newton didn’t forget anything as seemingly quickly as he had his negative reaction—but Hermann didn’t want to rock the boat. Perhaps it was because he wanted to keep the mood as preppy as Newton had made it. Perhaps it was because he didn’t want to think much about Vanessa anymore.

“I hope you didn’t struggle keeping yourself entertained for the three hours I was gone,” Hermann said, attempting a smile. He cautiously pulled himself out of Newton’s hug, although not without some resistance. “I know you only made a stop here to see that concert.” 

Newton shrugged, seemingly unbothered, although Hermann had gotten better at reading him. “Eh, it was fine. Got to go to the museum, corrected the guides on whatever they got wrong. Got kicked out of the museum for being right.” The man had, undoubtedly, been bored out of his mind. Hermann couldn’t blame him; he seemingly knew everything about the time period. A particular favourite of his, Hermann supposed.

“Well then, we should get back to the TARDIS, shouldn’t we?” Hermann cringed at the sense of urgency that he wasn’t quite capable of removing from his tone, but Newton remained unbothered. He simply took Hermann by the arm and began dragging him through the crowds of people, not even waiting for the stoplights to turn red before beginning to cross the road. His confidence would be commendable if it didn’t scare the living daylights out of Hermann, who was incredibly conscious of the air rushing past him as they narrowly dodged cars or other pedestrians.

Beforehand, Hermann had restricted his reading to books on mathematics, although he would be remiss to say that that had truly been all he had read during his time with Newton. Sometimes, when feeling burned out, he would find himself grabbing fiction books from the shelves which he was absolutely certain were only populated by mathematics papers from his own future. Sometimes it was something from his time, a novel about the drama occurring at some fictional noble house. Sometimes, however, it was science fiction, which was far more to Hermann’s tastes (even if he was able to point out the flaws in every novel he read). 

Needless to say, he had read about the prospect of horseless carriages before, just as he had read about Martians (which apparently did exist, although they did not go by that name and Newton was yet to introduce him to any) and world-ending doomsday events. Newton had told him before that the latter occurred far more often in the Earth’s future, although Hermann figured they couldn’t all be world-ending if there was still an Earth afterwards to ruin. Horseless carriages were meant to be the least of Hermann’s troubles, and yet he found himself far more terrified of them than any supposed doomsday event.

There was a part of him that was capable of rationalising it—after all, cars were a far more immediate danger than an alien invasion, especially since Newton kept avoiding them—but he still felt somewhat of a fool. To be afraid of metal horseless carriages was ridiculous, plain and simple. There was no mathematical component to it, just animalistic fear. Hermann would be just as ashamed of himself if it were rage, or, heaven forbid…

He pulled himself out of his thoughts. Hermann was aware they had stopped walking a brief moment ago, obviously having found the TARDIS, but Newton hadn’t opened the doors yet. Hermann risked a glance at his companion to see what the cause of the delay was and found himself relieved to find that Newton had simply forgotten he had placed his key around his neck. He was, instead, rifling through his pockets with one hand, seemingly unwilling to let go of Hermann’s arm. The sight made his heart swell, and the unbroken contact made his cheeks flush.

Heaven forbid he be in love.

“Allow me,” Hermann said, freeing his arm from Newton’s grip so that he could take the key from around his own neck. He unlocked the door and quickly pushed it open, making his way inside without allowing himself to look back at Newton. Emotions were, without a doubt in his mind, ridiculous. Especially ones as primal as fear and love.

“That was Vanessa, right?” Newton asked, not even waiting for the doors to close before beginning his probing. Hermann busied himself at the control panel, his free hand hovering over the buttons and switches. He had given the TARDIS’ manual a quick flick-through a while back, but the majority of it had been beyond his comprehension. It hadn’t helped that the TARDIS had refused to translate half of the text. “Haven’t seen her for a while, huh? How long was it for her?”

There was a fast return switch, that much he knew. He just needed to find whatever matched its description, then wait for the TARDIS’ monitor to show what he wanted to see. He didn’t need to know how to actually pilot it, all he needed was—

Just as Hermann laid eyes on it, Newton grabbed his wrist. “What are you doing, Hermann?”

What Hermann should have done was lie. He should have lied and waited for Newton to leave him alone in the console room so that he could do what he wanted. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “I need to see Vanessa again. Sometime between when we left her and now, I don’t care when, I just need to see her.”

Hermann was desperate and he knew he looked the part—when he looked Newton in the eyes he was greeted by a disgustingly pitiful stare. The words Newton said next made Hermann frown so deeply he was aware of his nose scrunching, but he could not say that what he said was unexpected. “You can’t, Hermann.”

“Why not?” he pushed, desperate to find if there was any actual quantifiable reason for it. There was meddling with important events in history, and then there was going to see Vanessa again so that he didn’t feel so hollow. Surely, surely Newton understood why the latter was in no way as influential as the former? Surely the same rule of non-interference did not apply? He didn’t even bother to keep the frustration out of his tone. “What actual reason is there?”

“‘What actual…’” Newton paused as if to process what Hermann had said, to truly take in the meaning of his words, before bristling. “Are you kidding? It’s for the same reason we don’t go around changing any other event in history, Hermann, you have no idea what the consequences could be!”

“Oh, please. I have a hard time seeing how visiting Vanessa again could be harmful in any way.”

Newton let go of his wrist, and Hermann regretted his words almost immediately. “That’s the thing, Hermann. You can’t see,” he began pacing around the console, already inputting coordinates to who knows where. Hermann wasn’t even entirely sure Newton knew what he was doing in his ranting state. “I don’t blame you of course, it’s not like human brains are exactly made to comprehend the full ins and outs of time travel. You didn’t get schooling for it.”

“What on Earth are you even saying? ” Hermann spat with far more venom than he intended.

“What I’m saying, Hermann, is that you have no way of comprehending what events could possibly occur by you doing something as small as seeing Vanessa again before now,” Newton said, a renewed fiery confidence to his words. For a second Hermann had thought he had begun to wear himself down, what with his distracted console fidgeting, but it appeared that was not the case.

“I understand how tempting it is to go back and do something different,” he continued, and the TARDIS made some beeping noises as if she agreed with him. Blasted sentient machines. “Do you have any idea how tempted I’ve been? It’s like… it’s like a snake is trying to get me to eat a golden apple, every day, for thousands of years, and I have to keep saying ‘no’.”

Hermann smiled for a fraction of a second at the jumbled analogy. “You’re mixing up mythologies, Newton.” 

Out of all the things Hermann could have said, that seemed to be the one capable of breaking Newton out of his rant, even if only for a moment. He finally looked at Hermann again from across the console with an expressionless face before it broke out in one of the most radiant smiles Hermann had ever seen. His grin was so large that his eyes scrunched up and dimples appeared in his cheeks, and if Hermann strained his hearing, he could almost swear there was a giggle bubbling away at the back of Newton’s throat. It was barely present and he was clearly trying to be kept down, but it was there.

Then it was gone, and Newton was back to ranting. “That’s not the point! Don’t try to change the subject! I’m trying to get you to understand that you can’t just change the course of history, no matter how seemingly minor, just because you feel like it, okay?”

“It’s not just because I feel like it, don’t be ridiculous. I have a reason.” Hermann rolled his eyes, offended Newton would even insinuate he could possibly be that shallow. “She needs me. She told me so.”

“Well then, Hermann, you should have thought of that before you decided you wanted to leave her,” Newton said, and Hermann froze. It had been his decision to leave. Newton had appeared perfectly content to stay in the village longer and had only left because Hermann had asked him to.

“But… but that still doesn’t explain why we can’t go back to sometime in between. Please, Newton, I have to see her again,” Hermann pleaded, walking around the console to hold Newton’s arm, although not without hesitating. There was a fraction of a second where Hermann thought he might have convinced Newton, but it was not so.

Newton shrugged Hermann off, his gaze firm. He would not be backing down. “You made your decision to leave, and you’re just going to have to accept it. If we hadn’t seen her today I would have allowed it, but be honest with me, Hermann, would you have even thought twice about leaving Vanessa if you hadn’t seen her again?”

Hermann took one step back, then another. It was as if Newton’s words were physically pushing him away with nothing but the anger that powered them. “No. I wouldn’t have.” Newton, seemingly satisfied with Hermann’s answer, turned back to the console and continued inputting commands, but Hermann wasn’t finished. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re so insistent. It’s one thing if I was asking if we could assassinate some famous historical figure, but this is an entirely different situation.” 

“Is it, Hermann? Is it really?” Newton shot back. He didn’t give Hermann time to respond as he then groaned and turned on him once more. “If you wanna know why I’m not allowing you any wiggle room that badly, then I’ll just show you. Happy?”

There was a feeling in Hermann’s gut that whatever Newton was promising could not, in any way, be pleasant. However, gut feelings were often wrong, given their emotional bias, and so he especially did not trust it given he and Newton had just argued. Or perhaps they were still in the middle of an argument, Hermann wasn’t entirely sure. And so, he said, “Please. Show me whatever it is that’s preventing you from understanding my reasoning. It can’t be all that significant, surely.”

To say that Newton and Hermann hadn’t argued before would be a lie—it was, after all, one of the first things they had done after Hermann had entered the TARDIS—so Hermann felt justified in saying that, out of the two of them, Newton was the one more prone to exaggeration. He was a fan of blowing things out of proportion to an incredible extent, and so Hermann believed that this was just another one of those sorts of things. It was simply logical. Nothing that he had been entirely truthful about had ever enraged him as much as this argument had. Then again, the majority of the time, Hermann and Newton’s arguments weren't this long.

The TARDIS let out a worrying array of beeps and hums, although not because it seemed as if she was failing. Rather, they sounded almost… concerned. Given how the seemingly ceaseless excitement in Newton’s eyes had faded, he could not blame the machine for being worried. Despite this, Hermann dutifully took the seat closest to Newton, although it didn’t make much difference—it didn’t take long for Newton to return to his mad dash around the console, refusing to even glance in Hermann’s direction.

There was, for once, not enough time for Hermann to dwell in his thoughts. Normally the TARDIS would take a decent amount of time travelling from one destination to the next, allowing time for Newton and Hermann to talk about where they were heading next. There was no other reason it would take so long otherwise, seeing as it was a time machine. Their speedy arrival only served to unsettle Hermann more.

“We’re here,” Newton announced. As if on command, Hermann sprung out of his seat, before fumbling for his cane to steady himself. The sooner Newton showed him whatever it was that had been ravaged by the unpredictable nature of time travel, the better.

Hermann followed Newton to the doors, not daring to utter a single word. It didn’t feel fitting, given his friend’s uncharacteristic silence. Normally Hermann would have no complaints about such a thing, but circumstances were a bit different from normal. The doors opened on their own, slow and quiet. It was as if the TARDIS itself were in mourning.

Outside the doors, though, there was nothing. In the far-off distance Hermann could make out the twinkling lights of galaxies or star clusters, but immediately outside of the TARDIS was nothing. “This isn’t funny, Newton,” Hermann chided, brows already beginning to knot together. “You had me worried, but all you’ve done is take me to empty space. What kind of sick joke is—”

Hermann turned so he could look Newton in the eyes as he continued his tirade, but then he stopped. There was no cheeky grin, no sly smile on Newton’s face as if to say, “Ha, I got you!”. There was just… nothing. Nothing but the hollowness brought on by grief. 

“Where are we, Newton?” Hermann asked, carefully. As if Newton was porcelain ready to shatter.

“Where my planet should be.”

Hermann looked back outside, determined to copy everything he saw into his memory. The dread made sense now, he thought. If only he’d listened.

Hesitantly, Hermann brought a hand to Newton’s shoulder. When he wasn’t shaken off immediately, he reached his arm around so that he could pull Newton into one of those awkward half-hugs he seemed to be so fond of. He decided against mentioning how Newton’s body shook with choked sobs. 

“What was it called?” Hermann asked. “What did it look like? What animals were there? Tell me about it, Newton. Tell me everything you like.”

Newton let out an almost-laugh. It was a little bit too shaky, and Hermann could practically hear his tears, but it was something. “Everything? You sure, Hermann? We could be here for hours.”

“I’m absolutely certain.” He held Newton tight, as if doing so would help… help what, exactly? Help change the fact his home was gone? It was ridiculous, but Newton seemed to appreciate it. That was all that mattered. “And, if you don’t mind, you could tell me what happened?”

It took a few seconds for Newton to respond, as if he was debating with himself on whether he should reveal that information to Hermann or not. Eventually, though, he nodded. He took two deep breaths before pulling himself up to his full height, courage (or arrogance, at least) seemingly restored. Hermann allowed his arm to fall away.

“I’m not sure exactly what happened, and neither is the TARDIS, but… there was a war between my people and an alien race called Daleks. I didn’t take part in it myself, but I was able to see the effects of it on some of the planets I travelled to while doing research.” Newton looked back out at the empty space, and Hermann felt his heart sink. It wasn’t just Newton’s planet that was missing then, but possibly a whole star system, or an arm of a galaxy, or maybe even more. A chill ran up Hermann’s spine. 

“After I pieced together that the Time Lords and the Daleks had started a war that spanned time as well as space, I knew I had to get back home. But it was already too late.” The dark was cold and uninviting. It did not care about Newton or Hermann, nor did it care about their planets or people or feelings, or anything else. Space did not have the capability to care. “No matter what time I go to, my planet isn’t here. Neither is the planet of the Daleks, or so many others that were caught in the crossfire.” 

Space, like numbers, had no emotion. It did not think or feel, it did not take sides, and it did not tease. It simply existed, void of such things that hindered so much of creation. That was what had led Hermann to once revere it so highly, to view it as something that, while once beyond his understanding, was above him. Now, however, it was different. Perhaps, if space was capable of caring even a little bit, Newton’s planet wouldn’t be gone. That did, however, raise questions.

“How are you here if your planet never existed?” Hermann asked, and although he wasn’t doubtful of Newton’s story, not when it clearly affected him so deeply, it was still a query that he thought to be genuine.

To his credit, Newton didn’t appear to have been bothered by the question. If anything, he looked like he wanted to answer it. “One of the quirks of time travel. I come from a planet that, according to this timeline, never existed, and by extension a timeline that never existed as well. I’m an echo of it, if you will. I predict that when I die, everything will behave as if I had never been there at all, although it may potentially retain memories of—and any experiences or knowledge related to—me.

“My people invented time travel, Hermann. We were masters of it, and we knew that to alter it in any way could create ripples that may affect the rest of the galaxy. That’s why we had a non-intervention policy, and this, my whole entire species ceasing to exist, is why I won’t let you go to see Vanessa again.” Newton walked back to the console, and although he didn’t follow him, Hermann kept his eyes on him the entire time.

He had speculated such things to be possible, of course. There were obvious reasons why they couldn’t change major historical events, even if doing so would objectively bring nothing but good things. They were time travellers, that didn’t give them the right to dictate humanity and how it progressed. Something, though, was bothering Hermann immensely. “Why let me travel with you, then?”

Newton didn’t turn around. “What are you talking about?”

“If it’s so important that history remain unaffected, if when you die I will be able to retain at least some memory of our time together, why let me into the library? Why take me to the future and to alien worlds to learn of ideas that I and my peers will never be able to dream of otherwise?”

“I have… my reasons,” Newton said, voice barely more than a whisper.

“Well then, what are they?”

Sometimes Newton was difficult to read, as if the alien language he spoke to the TARDIS with translated into his expressions or body language, but there was no mistaking the way he caved in on himself as anything other than sadness. Hermann had a feeling he knew, but he wanted—no, needed—Newton to confirm it. If only because he didn’t want it to be true.

“Newton… Newton, please, look at me,” Hermann begged.

Hermann slowly limped his way towards Newton, resting one hand gently on his shoulder so he could turn Newton around. His friend did so without resistance, but his eyes stayed focused on the ground. “You’re meant to die. The night we met, on your way home you were meant to get into an accident and die.”

Hermann swallowed. “And what of my father? Why did you travel with him?”

“It was a long time ago, Hermann,” Newton said dismissively. “Before I’d found out what had happened. Besides, it was only for the one trip. No offence, but your dad is kind of a major asshole.”

That comment, at least, managed to make him smile. “Yes, well… my father has never been known for having a particularly pleasant personality.” Hermann sniffed, then, before straightening himself out. Their trip was meant to be pleasant and, although they couldn’t exactly change what had happened during it (or anything else of significance, not really, Hermann now knew) he could at least try to not let it end on such a sour note. “How do you fancy taking a break, Newton? You haven’t shown me even a quarter of the rooms in this machine, if your claims of it being near endless are to be believed.”

Newton saw through him with ease, although he didn’t find himself as resistant to it as he had been with Vanessa. Their extensive time together was certainly a contributing factor, but there was something else, too, not just in how Hermann felt about it, but how Newton could read him. “No more questions? Not at all?”

Hermann pursed his lips. His hand drifted from Newton’s bank to one of his hands, which he took gently. Newton interlaced their fingers with the same exact cadence. “I can’t promise there won’t be more in the future, but… for now, yes.”

Newton smiled, and that was that.