Work Text:
THE INSULIDIAN PHASMID - The creature gathers its spindle-shaped limbs, rising above you and in the blink of an eye it is skating away across the reeds and into the ocean. You strain your eyes until you only see the fata morgana of its shape; your brain's last desperate attempt to understand the chitinous miracle that just happened.
YOU – Something has been cracked open inside of you. You have shared a silent communion with an unknowable creature. Of all the creatures I’ve ever met, you are the kindest, you told it. You do not know what powers you invoked with those words, but it feels like the beginning of something better. You want to share this revelation so you look towards your partner.
KIM KITSURAGI – Kim is by your side, almost shoulder to shoulder. Snow is melting in his hair and his face more open than you have ever seen it. A man, you almost don't recognize is staring past you and into the reeds. The sun is rising behind him, encasing him in a thermonuclear halo and suddenly all you can focus on is *him*. Over his shoulder a titan of orange radiation chases the night across the sky, leaving behind colors you would never have thought possible without the photoreceptors of a mantis shrimp.
INLAND EMPIRE – This is the end of Dolorian times. After 350 years of hard-core militant occupation, you are seeing the first cracks in Her Innocence Dei’s Empire. An Isola is breaking free of her suffocating memories. The first attempts at self-governing will be made. Slowly and surely the Isola will detach itself from Innocentic rule.
KIM KITSURAGI - “It’s gone...” his arm slowly sinks, the camera still clutched in his hand. “I have never seen *anything* like it in my life. Never imagined-” he stops himself and falls silent.
HAND- AND EYE-COORDINATION - His hands are shaking.
COMPOSURE - So are ours.
KIM KITSURAGI - “Harrier… I-I-” he seems lost for word and so are you. It is the first you have heard him say that name. And then he turns to you and smiles. Not the usual smirk or the barely-there crack in an otherwise aggressively passive face. A real smile with teeth and a dimple you have never seen before.
INLAND EMPIRE - This is a miracle. A small miracle to fit inside the smallest church.
SEA FORTRESS - Your mind clears as your senses take it in - two pairs of feet, close and both sinking into the muddy wetlands, the shimmering pale far out in the distance and the soft rustle of reeds in the wind.
INLAND EMPIRE - The cryptid permits us to think that this, too, shall pass.
CONCEPTUALIZATION – You want to be that kind of animal. To regrow your lost limbs, to molt and metamorphose into something beautiful.
KIM KITSURAGI - “I can’t believe-“ Kim interrupts himself with a huff and then to your utter amazement, a laugh escapes him like a startled thrush taking flight. “You encounter a cryptid that we suspect has some sort of degenerative neurological ability and your first instinct is putting its salvia in your mouth?” the honestly is strongly implied in his tone.
YOU – What is happening? You try not to stare but it is almost impossible.
PERCEPTION – Has he always looked this radiant when he smiled?
YOU – What?
EMPATHY: What?
REACTION SPEED – [Failure] Wait, what did I miss??
PERCEPTION – You heard me, cowards.
The silence has by now lasted a little too long to be considered a natural lull in the conversation. The lieutenant is eyeing you curiously, smile turning quizzical.
SUGGESTION [Failure]- SAY SOMETHING CLEVER!
“Hrnghh,” you say, like an idiot. The lieutenant quirks his eyebrow, but the usual stoic mask is ruined by the smile still playing on his lips. The effect is *devastating*.
YOU – “I WAS DETECTING!-” you finally manage, “- I’m a detective, you’re a detective. We detect stuff and that phasmid needed a good, ol’ detecting. I was doing my detecting duty to the Citizens Militia and the People of Revachol!” you throw in a sloppy salute for good measure.
SUGGESTION - Nailed it.
KIM KITSURAGI - “I’m glad you finally saw fit to perform your duty as RCM detective with such enthusiasm, lieutenant double-yefreitor.”
RHETORIC – Wait, was that a joke? Please don’t tell me that was his idea of a joke…
YOU – “Above and Beyond, amirite?” There! There it is again! The elusive smile you unconsciously have been hunting since you discovered a sense of humor under all that hard-ass exterior.
“So, what did it taste like?” Kim asks.
“Huh?”
“The Phasmid salvia? You have the dubious honor of being the only person in history to see *and* taste the Insulidian Phasmid. I am, of course, asking out of purely professional curiosity. “
“Is this somehow related to the case, detective?” you answer mock sternly. You pretend to fix a pair of invisible glasses on your nose, desperately hoping that Kim thinks imitation really is the sincerest form of flattery.
“Perhaps. There have been more surprising connections in this case than the supposed properties of Phasmid salvia. So, what did I taste like?”
You think for a moment, then; “It tasted like… sugar. Like eating sugar straight from a sun-hot sidewalk. Boogie Street, specifically.” You still haven’t been able to put your finger on the odd, barely-there taste of asphalt but this is probably the closest you’re going to get.
“Hmm… sounds alarming. Are you sure you’re not in the preliminary state of some serious medical emergency? No heart palpitations or chest pain? You don’t seem anymore confused or disoriented than you usually are.” he takes a step towards you, reaching out as if he is going to take your temperature by the hand-to-forehead method.
COMPOSURE [Failure] – DO NOT LET HIM TOUCH YOU OR YOU WILL CRY! WE CANNOT HANDLE ONE OUNCE MORE OF THIS CONCERNED KINDNESS!
“Nah, I’m cool as a cucumber. A cop-umber. Just thinking that I would rather have had ice cream, is all!” you say, with the absolute lowest amount of chill possible.
“We could probably arrange that.”
ESPRIT DE CORPS – A confusing image manifest in your frontal lobe. The two of you standing under the shadow of the Giant Taxidermy Ice Bear Fridge, enjoying your Pistachio Green Ice Cream together. The sun is shining and the grass in the park is the greenest in Revachol. You are not sure if it is you or him imaging this.
YOU - In the time it takes for you to shake the fantasy, Kim’s smile has dimmed and he is looking out across the water, back to the Whirling-In-Rags.
“It’s almost a shame-” the lieutenant says regretfully, “- that I was me being here. It should have been Lena and Morell.”
“Kim, I don’t think they would have handled the whole find-the-murder-thing very well. Or extracted a confession from the deserter.”
“Probably not.” he says amused, “But you don’t have to humor me, detective. I did not conceal my disbelief of the Phasmids existence when speaking with them. I called it a pseudo-science and a *hobby* to Lena’s face. If I had been leading the investigation, we would have stopped looking into this case after finding Morell. And I would not have allowed him to spray me with a phasmid pheromone.” His face barely contains a shudder of disgust.
“Hey, don’t take it too hard. I didn’t believe them either. Not really.”
DRAMA – Your chin barely wobbles as you tell Kim that bald-faced lie, sire. Could have used a bit more Meisner technique and sincerity.
ESPRIT DE CORPS– He sees right through your wobbly chin and abominably bad poker face but doesn’t comment.
KIM – “At least you had the good grace not to doubt them every turn. And you were very enthusiastic about wading through the wetlands, checking traps full of live locusts during an active murder investigation. An admirable effort for a non-believer.”
COMPOSURE – He got you there, man. Just make some vague gesture to indicate your indifference to the subject.
YOU – Start making zesty jazz-hands as your face turns completely red.
Kim mercifully continues the conversation despite your weirdness. “You have their address. We might send them a copy of the negatives and I could write a report detailing our findings. The phasmids' behavior when interacted with. Your theory about the pheromones' psychoactive and degenerative neurological effect on humans and not to mention the suspected addictive qualities…” he barely starts talking before his notebook appears.
THE NOTEBOOK – His hand is steady as a Mesque Banger taking a shot at a rival. And for the first time, you can see his written notes. The endless waterfall of tightly packed paragraphs dripping down the page; almost more black than white. He has documented every single person you have been rambling at. A recap of interviews, snippets of information scrounged up during your Jamrock Shuffle. Has he written about you?
SHIVERS – In a room at the Whirling-In-Rags. A brown Moleskine book lies waiting on his desk. A version of you lives there. 10 versions documented over 10 days. And hundreds of versions himself live there too.
THE NOTEBOOK - Now he is writing psychoactive pheromones, degenerative neurological effect, magpie tendencies-
YOU - “It also reproduces parthenogenetically,” you tell him helpfully.
ENCYCLOPEDIA- Parthenogenesis is a modified form of sexual reproduction in which a gamete develops into a new individual without the fertilization of an oocyte by a spermatozoon, as in certain arthropods and other animals.
KIM KITSURAGI– He stops writing, eyebrows doing acrobatics to convey his disbelief, “Really. And how would you know that?”
YOU- "It told me,” you tell him earnestly. It is probably not the craziest intuition you have had to explain to him.
KIM KITSURAGI - He shakes his head slowly, “Of course, it did, detective. It told you. During your *long* staring match.” He’s still smiling so you probably didn’t come off as *too* insane.
LOGIC – He believes you even if it goes against every scientific truth he has ever believed.
YOU – Stare at him while he finishes outlining his report and with a crisp snap of his hand, he closes the notebook and returns it to the depth of his pocket. When he looks up and catches you ogling him, his hands, which were in the middle of folding into the usual Reverse Arm-Fold, jump and clumsily change course for his glasses.
VISUAL CALCULUS - His face looks naked without the thick lenses.
BINOCLARD GLASSES – The thick lenses are like a psionic shield stopping your mind-reading, para-natural brain waves from revealing too much. The shield slowly dissolves as he extracts the glasses from his nose and with the soft and caring hand of a long-time lover, he cleans it with a handkerchief. His hands, soft and tender-
LOGIC – Stop psychologically projecting your feelings onto inanimate objects!
EMPATHY – Hey, focus! Kim only takes off his glasses when he is feeling vulnerable. He does not blush, has not cried in years, and still, he allows you this. It is a secret signal. Like a morse code or a flashing light in the dark. You are a detective. What is he telling you?
RHETORIC – He is definitely gearing up to tell you something.
KIM KITSURAGI - “We solved the case.” he says, his voice carefully modulated to appear inflectionless. “A murder weapon, a confession, and the perpetrator are all waiting for the RCM to collect. We have done the impossible by turning an interdistrict pissing competition between our precincts into an uncovering of a major organized crime syndicate and the possible solution to a twenty-year-old cold case. We stopped an execution by unvetted mercenaries. We might have stopped an all-out faction war that would have had unimaginable consequences for the peace in Revachol. And-” he stops, seemingly unable to think of something the two of you *haven’t* done.
“I got shot in the quad,” you remind him.
“Yes, and I got a concussion. You have a point, no?”
“Maybe. Do *you* have a point?”
“Mhm…” He hums softly as he reintroduces his glasses to his face. The shields are online again. “You saved my life, detective. That’s my point.”
“And you made an impossible shot to save me.”
EMPATHY – He wants to thank you, but it is hard for him. This naked sincerity has always carried more danger than what could reasonably be worth the effort. Give him time.
KIM KITSURAGI- He continuous your impromptu debrief. “We discovered an entroponetic anomaly in a church.“
“You mean we made a hard-core anodic nightclub in a church!”
He breathes out a soft laugh. “I think that was more thanks to your intervention than mine,”
You forget yourself in your excitement and yell “No, Kim! You SHREDDED the goddamn floor! BOOGIE-FUCKING-WOOGIE,” straight into the lieutenant's bemused face.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT – Your body remembers the audio thumbing through your ribcage and your gyrating dance of pioneered glory. Of the lieutenant heel-kicking the shit out the floor; a goddamn Church-of-Humanity-Destroying-Instrument of Anodic Music. You remember the flashing lights highlighting the sweat on his face, his neck, and how his shirt had shown a hint of his glistening chest-
ELECTRO-CHEMISTRY – Wait, did we just get hard?
VOLITION – This is not the time to unpack *any* of this. Focus!
KIM KITSURAGI - “I would not have solved this without you. You have performed above and beyond your duty. Other than the time you *had* to sing karaoke, you have worked tirelessly on the case. And despite your history of substance abuse, you did not let it get in the way of the case. You have protected others at great personal risk and you have saved countless lives, including mine. I have seen you continue the investigation despite an injury that would have had most officers of the case. You truly care for the city of Revachol and its citizens. At no point have you given me a reason to believe otherwise.”
DRAMA – He means it. With every fiber in him, he means it.
EMPATHY – He is proud of you.
YOU – With a valiant effort, you ignore whatever the hell is going on in your pants. Instead, you commit to the herculean task of keeping from crying in face of this unimaginable kindness.
TASK GAINED: DO NOT CRY IN FRONT OF LUEITENANT KIM KITURAGI.
HALF-LIGHT – Your palms er wet with perspiration. Your armpits have turned into smelly oceans. Unknown danger is coming up ahead.
ELECTRO-CHEMISTRY – Man, this sounds dangerous. Maybe you should do some speed about it?
YOU – “Come on, Kim. *I* couldn’t have done without you! You kept shit under lock no matter how crazy I made it. You had to confiscate drugs from me on the first day. How’s that for ‘Above and Beyond Duty’? Ha Ha-uurghhh…” you try and laugh it off, but the lighthearted tone is gone from the conversation. You continue even when you feel that heart attack dr. Gottleib keeps threatening you with, starts creeping up on you.
INLAND EMPIRE - Something terrible is crawling out of your throat.
“Y-you know what I did, lieutenant? I got high on pyrholidon after you went to bed and tried to play Russian Roulette, but I couldn’t find my gun. Or my badge. Or my motor carriage because I’d crashed it into the ocean-“ oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, shut the fuck up before it’s too late , “-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Kim. I-I got 2mm holes in my brain and the stick-insect told me that I would erase the world if I blinked and I have already blinked like, *at least* fifty times and I don’t know how but I’m making the pale worse and I’m making the world worse and the world is ending because I can’t get over my ex. All the love and patience of my friends, my family… I drowned it in neurotoxin. I let misery win every time. I’m an animal-” you whisper, “-the worst kind of animal…”
TASK FAILED: DO NOT CRY IN FRONT OF LIEUTENANT KIM KITURAGI.
KIM - His eyes have grown wide as he takes in your frantic distress, your bloated and tear-stained face. He does not know what to say. A hand reaches for you and settles against your elbow.
“-And evil child-murdering billionaires still rule the world…” you manage to blubber out and finally, you are done. You have ruined *everything* but at least it is over.
“Again, with the Mazovian Socio-Economics…” Kim tries to smile but his eyes are still so sad. Instead of changing the subject and leaving you to crash and burn alone, he does something unimaginable; he reaches up with his free hand and touches your other elbow. There is still an armlengths worth of space between you and the only points of contact are the tip of his fingers - but this is most definitely a hug. *A Kim-hug*.
You are so shocked by this turn of events that you completely forget to cry.
KIM KITSURAGI - “You are sensitive. These are not bad things for a man to be, Harry. I am not going to lie and say I understand. I do not think I would ever be able to understand. But I think there is something to be said for a man willing to bleed so much for others. To feel what others, feel and still go on in this line of work.”
AUTHORITY – His conviction is almost enough to convince you.
ESPRIT DE CORP- He is seeing the man you could be. He sees the quiet strength of Harrier De Bois as he consoles the wife of a dead man. And the man that cracked the speed-incrusted case of Kuuno de Ruyter. The man that could look a terrible death in the eyes and still talk about baby blue eyes. You showed him your worst sides first, but he still believes you are one of the best detectives he’s ever met.
“Even the best of us need help sometimes. And in your case a psychiatric evaluation and a lot of therapy. I *cannot* stress this enough.” he squeezes your elbows softly like you are someone worthy of care. “You are a good man, Harry."
“Umm, okay?” you choke, fat tears still rolling down your face.
Kim looks supremely uncomfortable but pushes on, "You are flawed, yes-" very flawed his tone seems to imply, "- but I will not allow myself to be disappointed with you for one moment."
REACTION SPEED [Godly] - Snap-snap, what was that? What was that expression being chased through his eyes, turning them liquid black? You *know* what it is because you feel liquid too. Don't dodge. Move ahead
SUGGESTION [???]: You lean forward and kiss him. Shock flinches through the body in your arms but only for a second but then you are touching from thighs, stomach to solar plexus. If you somehow got closer your ribs might click and catch, locking you together. And he is kissing you back. Soft, wet, and closed-mouthed. Finally, you can touch the shorn sides of his head, feel the soft bristle against your fingers, and then the unblushing ears, from the hard cartilage to the soft lobe. You hold his jaw and eat from his mouth.
PERCEPTION - You smell nothing but the sea salt and the musky smell of wetland.
PAIN THRESHOLD – When was the last time you felt this good? Between the 10-day-hangover, your swollen alcohol-soaked liver, the gunshot wound, and your tender foot from kicking all those inanimate objects. You can't remember...
KIM KITSURAGI - A sudden heat blooms between your thighs when his fingers dig into sides, squeezing your love handles. He moves his mouth, first to kiss the corner of yours and then to *bite* your jaw. You are too surprised to attempt anything that doesn't involve clinging to his shoulder, desperately trying to kiss every single inch of him *immediately*-
DESERTER – Suddenly, a sound behind you. You both turn towards it. The deserter is still sitting where you left him, but he barely looks conscious. Like a board wiped clean, he sits with his mouth open and left hand buried in the ash of the bonfire. You have *completely* forgotten about him.
KIM KITSURAGI- “Out suspect is not looking too good. We should check on him,” Kim steps back but his hand lingers for a moment on your waist. His mouth is wet, and he has a wild look in his eyes that he has not managed to pack away yet.
EMPATHY – He wants to kiss you. Badly. But he will not because it is not the time for it.
ESPRIT DE CORPS – He is flustered. He, a consummate professional and By-the-Book Cop, is kissing his partner, a lieutenant double-yefreitor and technically his superior, in front of a suspect who is possibly catatonic and in need of immediate medical attention. All of this is of course happening during an active murder investigation.
He turns away from you.
YOU - While you wade into the mud to check out the nest, Kim kneels beside the deserter, removes his gloves, and begins taking his pulse, two fingers carefully placed on the wrist. He times it for exactly sixty seconds, eyes intent on his watch. Then he checks for pupil dilation, but it is a half-hearted effort without a specialized flashlight. There is nothing they can do for him and Kim knows that.
EMPATHY – He is regaining control of the investigation. Secure the evidence, the confession, and the suspect. After that – who knows?
VISUAL CALCULUS – The Fairweather T-500 Helmet, Klaasje's passport, and the T-9/32 Rifle Scope will have to wait. You will show it to him on the way back.
KIM KITSURAGI - “Mr. Dros?” the man does not respond; he keeps staring, black eyes glazed over and bulging from their socket. Kim sighs and stands up again, “Well, this sorts the matter of transportation. I think it will be safe to leave him here, while we go and get help. Medical aid first, I’m afraid.” he suddenly seems to remember something when he looks to you, a line of worry tight around his mouth.
“How are your wound, detective? It has been almost-“ he quickly checks his watch, ”- seven hours since your last dose of drouamine. You must be in pain.” He is not asking you. Anyone would be able to smell the animal stink of pain on you. Your face is bloated and pale as a corpse – the pit stains the size of Isola's does not help to assure him either.
DRAMA – Oh god, he is back to calling you detective again? He must *hate* you!
ENDURANCE – None of that hömø-shit now! Show him how a *real man* handles pain. You are not a fucking woman! You are not a fucking kipt! You are a *fucking* drengr, a warrior-
“Ouch,” you blurt out – but manly! Like the man from *Man* from Hjelmdall or a true Franconigerian individualist. You are a Boiadeiro. With a gun in one hand and an unfiltered cigarette between your lips, you make your own rules. Only the endless blue dome above to hold you back-
CONCEPTUALIZATION [Failure] – Yeah, I don’t think so, man.
PAIN THRESHOLD – It is looking bad, compadre. The shot from the high-velocity hand cannon has left you with severe bleeding, potential hypovolemic shock, catastrophic injury to the major blood vessels and soft tissue. A solid point 3 on the Gustilo-Open-Fracture-Scale. Not bad for a Sorry-Cop!
LOGIC – That sounds *very* bad.
Kim allows himself one last worried examination of your broken shell and then: “Let’s return to the mainland, detective.” and as simple as that, Kim turns and follows the beach towards the fortress.
“Hang tight,” you pat the deserter comfortingly on the shoulder, but he does not react. To him, there is no one there. Not even himself. You step back, let yourself look towards the reeds one last time before following Kim back to the boat. It is quiet between you. You do not know how to break the silence and you are not sure if you want to. So, you turn to Kim and listen in-
KIM KITSURAGI - He *cannot* fuck this up. Both for your sake and his own. He is afraid of becoming the holocenter for your recovery. But he is also afraid for himself. Ten days is not a long time when you have spent years keeping everyone at a distance, deterring any attempts to pry into your past with a flick of an eyebrow. The racist-flavored machismo of the RCM had killed any expectations of trusting this part of himself to any of his fellow officers. But you somehow cracked him open.
CONCEPTUALIZATION - He has easily trusted you with his life, but this is something else entirely.
COMPOSURE [Godly] – Resist the urge to jump into Kim's arms and kiss him senseless.
YOU - You probably could not muster the nervo-muscular control to perform any kind of jumping without having a heart attack. The pain is catching up and is making the hike back excruciatingly slow. Oh god, the stairs and then more stairs and then down the stairs... down more stairs - fuck. Finally, you stop, Kim stops and together you stand on the dock, staring down at the gently swaying skiff. None of you get in. Something is missing. A secret task left unfinished– and then its hits you. Frantically you begin fumbling your way through your pockets until your fingers finally touch-
BLUE OBLONG PEN OF RESENTMENT: The vague side order of resentment has drifted off. Now only a sense of affection is left lingering. The BLUE OBLONG PEN OF LINGERING AFFECTION has been in your pocket since the day you bullied Kim into giving it up. Maybe this could be a sign of your undying devotion to the lieutenant. Paperwork is romantic, right?
YOU - “Here, please take it. I’m sorry for bullying you. Oh god, you should probably use the pen to write a complaint about me. Wait, *I* should report myself for disrespecting a fellow officer…” you push it clumsily into his hands and he looks the pen over for a moment, eyebrows raised but otherwise unreadable. You feel a flash of heat zing through you when he steps closer and touches your chest. Two fingers slide along your suit label and like a slobbering dog reacting to a ringing bell, your face, and neck immediately turn hot just by the promise of intimacy. You have not realized that your eyes are closed until he steps back.
“Keep it, detective. You will probably need it more than I will.“ Kim says, tone serious but his eyes laughing. You blink dumbly at him as he gets into the boat and takes up position by the engine. Carefully, you touch the pen now attached to your breast pocket.
AUTHORITY – A medal. A commemoration of your superiority as a lieutenant double-yefreitor.
ENCYCLOPEDIA – Or a May-Bell flower pinned to the uniform of a soldier. A promise of love returned.
YOU – The boat rocks as you get in, water sloshing noisily against the side. As soon as you sit down, the motor comes roaring to life and Kim is maneuvering the boat out from the dockside. You cast your gaze over his shoulder and watch the island disappear. It is impossible to tell whether the pale is six-hundred kilometers to the east or if you somehow manifested it right on the island. Will there even be a deserter to arrest? You are quiet for a while until-
“Can we hear SAD FM on the way back?”
“Absolutely not,” Kim says but doesn't comment when you turn on the radio anyway. There is no protest either when your knees knock together, first by accident and then just from the simple pleasure of being close. He is still quiet when he catches your lovesick stare *again*. There are crows feet in his eyes and he is looking right back.
SHIVERS – A cold wind moves from the mainland. Someone is there… Waiting for you.
Esprit De Corps – The halogen lights illuminate the fishing shacks as Jean Vicquemare drifts restlessly between two invisible points.
JEAN VICQYEMARE - “What the hell is taking them so long? They having a fucking picnic over there or what? Fucking shitkid…” he is worried. The gravel around his feet is littered with cigarette butts. He does not like feeling helpless and there are only a few things as incapacitating as an ocean between you and your partner.
JUDIT MINOT - “They have only been gone for 3 hours and it’s at least half an hour crossing to the fortress, Jean. Five-hour mark and we call for back-up,” Judit Minot says, checking over the radio equipment in the Kinema. She is not worried about her colleagues or at least she is only worried about one of them.
TRANS HEIDELSTRAM - “And they do have the only motorized boat this side of the coast. Nothing to do but to be patient.” Trant Heidelstam adds, oblivious to the tense silence. He carefully licks a finger, before turning another page in his book.
With a sigh, Jean Vicquemare lights another cigarette.