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Sara had gotten curious.
She’d never thought much about their universal translators. They were handy, and so ingrained in their day to day lives that Sara had no need to question what was behind the translations. It was easy to forget who she was talking to every day-- other species who’s very vocal cords were so different from humans that surely they would sound nothing like the countless human languages of Andromeda.
Kallo was pacing around her quarters. The Tempest sat idle on an asteroid near Voeld as the crew took a much needed break. Sara was curled up on the couch, blanket over her lap and datapad in hand. She’d forgone her reading to watch her lover instead as he made his laps, talking to his friend Lee over comms, a fellow pilot he’d personally trained in those first chaotic months in Heleus.
She wasn’t sure what prompted her to think about language, of all things, but the thought was there. So Sara had gotten curious, and quietly turned off her translator when Kallo’s back was turned, and it was a revelation.
Kallo’s voice was different without the translator’s help. It was softer, with more syllables in a single breath. His voice was like a melody, methodical, precise, with distinct notes and beats that seemed to follow one another, flowing, musical. The words were strange, yes, and Sara knew it was unlikely she could ever pronounce them, but his voice was easily among the most beautiful sounds she had ever heard. In contrast, Lee was speaking a language Sara thought was vaguely familiar-- Japanese? Two very different languages coming together in a strange yet stunning harmony. She wondered how often they made such music without ever realizing it.
Sara didn’t know why she was tearing up. It was just a language, like millions of others out there. Sara knew several herself. But there was something about hearing Kallo’s true voice for the first time that moved her, that pulled at something deep within her. It was like she was opening a window that she’d never even seen before, catching a glimpse of a scene within, so mundane yet so extraordinary. Every now and then Kallo peppered in words from Galactic Trade, a language Sara had learned on the Citadel back in the Milky Way. The two languages were like night and day, off notes in Kallo’s otherwise impeccable musical symphony, but Sara figured that perhaps he used the Trade tongue when the words he needed did not exist in his own native dialect. It was such a tiny detail, but it was a version of Kallo she’d never heard before, and the realization of that made her laugh with a teary edge. Sara slapped her hand over her mouth quickly, hoping Kallo wouldn’t notice, but she couldn’t possibly hope to fool him. Kallo was attuned to everything Sara did, so the moment she giggled his head snapped around to meet her eyes, where he found tears even as she laughed to herself.
She could see the concern on his face, and he seemed to say quick goodbyes to Lee before shutting off his communicator. Sara tried to shake her head, but Kallo was undeterred as he came to her side, settling down next to her on the sofa. He said something to her, bringing his hand up to wipe away her tears. She couldn’t stop smiling at him in turn, and he asked her the same question again, this time with more confusion. She didn’t know the words, but she could see the question in his eyes, are you okay? He then said her name, in his true voice, and Sara well and truly cried.
Kallo panicked, bringing up his other hand to wipe at her tears, speaking to her quickly and softly. Sara shook her head and turned her translator back on. It came back with a short ringing sound, making her wince just a little. Kallo noticed this time, and realized what she’d done.
“Why was your translator off?” He asked her. She noted the difference now-- his voice, with aid from the translator, was a little bit heavier and held a slightly mechanical tone. She already missed his true voice. “Oh, please don’t cry starlight. What happened?”
“Nothing.” She assured him breathlessly, grinning, still crying, “Nothing at all, love. I just…” She took a stabilizing breath, clutching his wrists, stilling his hands on her face, “I got curious, that’s all. I heard your true voice.” Kallo was still visibly confused, but didn’t interrupt her rambles, “I just realized that I’d never heard your true voice, Kal. Not in all these years, I never got to hear it. You’ve heard mine, you’ve heard me speak my native language, the translators aren’t tuned to it. But I’ve never heard yours, and it's-- your voice, it’s different, it’s soft and it’s like music and it’s beautiful, you’re so beautiful Kallo.”
Kallo’s eyes had widened, and his cheeks had started to flush. “And… my voice made you cry?”
“Only good tears.” She let his hands drop from her face, holding his hands instead of his wrists. “It felt like… like I was meeting you for the first time all over again, that’s all. I think if I’d heard it that first time, back on Sur’Kesh, I’d have fallen for you right then and there.”
“Oh.”
And there it was. Sara was floored every time she managed to bring Kallo to stunned speechlessness. It was perhaps the greatest compliment she could receive.
He took a minute to mull over her words before nodding, just slightly. “So you’re okay?”
“Perfectly, my love.”
“Okay.” He nodded again, more confident this time, resolute, “I can’t deny my own curiosity. You made it sound so wonderful, so…” He pulled his hand free from hers and shut off his translator without another word. He then looked at her expectantly, and Sara was floored again by the moment he was offering her.
She hurriedly turned her translator off again, then turned fully to face him. For a moment they were silent, and Sara didn’t quite know what to say. It was almost embarrassing, like they were on a first date and had no idea what they should talk about. Kallo clocked exactly what was happening and laughed lightly, pushing an errant curl back behind her ear. He said her name, and that was all the focus she needed.
She spoke to him in IsiZulu for a minute, detailing all the ways she loved him, a language he’d heard but been unable to understand since he’d known her. But this time was different. This time his face changed, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open just slightly, and she knew he was hearing it-- the change in her voice, without aid from the translators trying to make sense of her words. She wondered how it sounded to him. It must have been good, at least; he was star struck. They both were.
She switched to English, cupping his cheeks so, so gently. “Kallo, my Kallo.” For the first time he heard his name in her true voice, and she saw the exact moment that he understood how she had felt. “We’ve said this to one another so many times, and we’ll say it so many more. I wonder if you can understand it, even without knowing the words. I wonder if it shows in my face, in my eyes. I hope it does. I want to try.” She pulled them together, kissing his forehead soundly, pressing them together and looking him in the eye. He had a look there, a look that countless poets had tried, and often failed, to capture with words.
“I love you.”
Kallo searched her face, his features softening, trying to interpret her words. After a moment he smiled, so open, so genuine, she wanted to cry again. He brought his hands up, one on her cheek and the other tangled in her hair. He said something back to her, and the look in his eyes left no doubts, no room to wonder at what he was saying to her. It was clear. It would always be absolutely clear.
I love you too.