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There were moments when Newton was lucid, or at least seemed lucid, Hermann had to remind himself. After ten years without detection, it was only safe to assume the Precursors could mimic Newton to such an extent that every word out of his mouth was suspect. At least the PPDC had moved him from that wretched torture implement of a chair into a cell, albeit a small one. Glass walls, basic facilities, all in view, a slot for meals. He was allowed guests only if they had clearance, which at this point meant his only guest was Hermann.
The Precursors prowled within like a caged tiger. On the surface, they had given up the pretense of being Newton since the day of capture. They saw to their host’s bodily needs as if maintaining a machine, paced the narrow space presumably to prevent muscle atrophy, ate the food given without complaint, and stared out of the glass with flat, hate-filled eyes. They smirked their way through the questions Jake Pentecost would routinely, hopelessly toss at them. About their numbers, about their capabilities, answering none of them except with a reminder that Earth was doomed. That they would never stop coming.
“You’re back,” the Precursors drawled as Hermann took his usual spot in the chair set up outside the corner of Newton’s cell. There was a flap in the otherwise bullet-proof glass wall beside him, one of the few spots where he could, in theory, reach through to touch Newton. Where Newton could, in theory, take his hand if Hermann offered. Or crush it in his grip, with the same awful strength he’d exhibited when the Precursors lifted Hermann by the throat. The thought sent a shiver of goosebumps over Hermann's skin. He settled back in the chair and leaned his cane against the glass. “You really think that you’re gonna get anything out of this that the PPDC’s golden boy couldn’t?”
“No,” Hermann said honestly. “I have no illusions on that count, of that I can assure you.”
“Yeah? Sure. So, what’s it like out there?” the Precursor’s said with Newt’s lips. There was something predatory about them now that they’d given up the facade, something reptilian, as if Newt’s tongue would dart out at any second to sample the air. There were still traces of Newt’s mannerisms, however. The brashness, the shrill voice, a hint of his devil-may-care attitude, as if the Precursors didn’t know any other way to be human, didn’t know Newt's behavior was unique to the soul it belonged to and not a general human trait. “Buried all the bodies yet? It looked like a nasty mess out there before your bullies locked us up.”
“Ah-ah, you know the rules,” Hermann said, wagging an admonishing finger. “No information for you unless it's in exchange. If you think my attachment to Newton means I’ll be your weak link, then you are sadly mistaken.”
“Your attachment,” the Precursor scoffed. “You really think that will be enough to free him, don’t you? When it wasn’t even enough for you to notice he was gone, that we had taken him. Some attachment! Why even pretend you’re here for him and not for your war effort, your pathetic invasion?”
Does Newton hear you? Hermann wondered. Is this for my benefit or his? He remembered Newton’s words the day of the attack, how he saw himself as an insignificant joke of a man. Had those been his words or the Precursors'? What had they told him about Hermann? That he was a fool, or else that he didn’t care that Newton was taken from beneath his nose? Hermann flipped to the next page and didn’t look up. “Believe what you will. I’m certainly not here for the PPDC.”
“Then why are you here?” Hermann looked up and saw the Precursors were frowning, brow furrowed in obvious confusion, the bluster gone.
Hermann sighed and decided for honesty. Newton, I hope you’re there. I hope you’re listening. “I don’t want to be alone tonight… and I don’t want Newton to be alone either.”
He felt naked saying those words. To leave himself so exposed before the Precursors and their mockery.
But the Precursors looked stunned. Or could it be Newton? It was probably foolish to hope, especially when they recovered with a sneer. “You're lying. Not that it matters. He can’t hear you, you know. He’s buried too deep.”
Hermann absorbed this and shrugged with feigned nonchalance as his heart cracked at the thought. “Perhaps. Perhaps you have such an iron grip that you can keep perfect control, prevent him from hearing anything I have to say, and I’ll have wasted my time here.
“Or…" Hermann paused. "Perhaps you’re lying and he can hear me right now when I say I am only here for him. I couldn’t care less whether your kind speak at all. Unlike my superiors, I don’t believe intelligence gained from interrogating you would be of any strategic value. In fact, it could be quite the opposite, as you could simply lie, and we'd have no way of verifying your claims.
"I’m here for Newton because I… I care for him. Because I want him to know I’m here and I will never, ever leave his side again. Because I am sorry that I did not perceive sooner what had happened to him, and because I’m sorry it was so easy for me to believe he would leave my side for better things. But if I did, it was only because I’ve always known he was brilliant, that Newton could accomplish anything he set his mind to, God help us. If it was easy to let him go, and I assure you it was no such thing, then that was only because it was easy for me to believe that I was the inadequacy in his life. That I was holding him back.
"I hope he can hear me. But even if he cannot, I’ll be here in case one day he can, because I know he is stronger than you dare admit.”
There was a thump and Hermann started upright, his head whipping to the side to see Newton hunched over, one palm pressed flat to the glass wall that separated them. There was sweat prickling at his hairline and his breath emerged in heavy gasps. His body shook as he raised his head and met Hermann’s eye.
“Keep… keep talking, I…” Newt wheezed. His mouth worked as if to say more but only a strangled noise emerged and he pounded his fist once against the glass in frustration. He shot Hermann a pleading look.
Hermann was up out of the chair like a shot, pressed up against the glass so close his breath misted in front of him. “I know you’re in there, Newton, just keep fighting them!”
Newt nodded, the struggle visible in the clenching of his jaw to even do that much. Hermann wanted to say more, to say everything that he’d failed to over the last ten years. There was no knowing for sure even if this was Newton and not another ruse, but the words rose unbidden, reassurances and explanations, entreaties that Newton come back to him, confessions…
Newton jerked away from the glass. His body straightened and his hand went up to slick the hair back from his face. The coldness was back, the reptilian gleam in his eyes, but the sneer on his lips was not so cold, not so composed as the last time. There was a definite twist of irritation.
“Pathetic,” the Precursors snarled, and their lips twisted into a mocking smile. “A few seconds of control is what you’re holding out for? He’s had those before. They never mattered.”
Adrenaline was surging through Hermann’s veins and his heart pounded. It was an effort to keep his voice steady. “Ah, but don’t you see, this time is different.” Hermann offered a mocking, triumphant smile of his own. “This time, he has me.”