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Captain Pryce sat on Harry's desk, casual. He looked over Harry with a long, calm stare, as if waiting for Harry to speak. Harry wanted to indulge him, but he was the one who had come over and the detective's racing brain had not the slightest clue what he wanted an update on. Kim saw Harry, hunched over his paperwork like a cornered animal and came over. He put a gloved hand on Harry's shoulder. Instant relaxation.
"We've named the case THE CONVENIENT DEMISE OF A DIPLOMAT." Kim began.
"Ohhh," Pryce interjected. "He's a diplomat? That explains why I can't stop hearing about the damned- Ah, well, do you have anything yet? Leads?" he clarified, nodding to Harry who was still more or less frozen on the spot.
Kim hesitated. "Given the circumstances. I've requested toxicology. And being a high-profile case, I'd appreciate lee-way to test some of the food he brought with him, from Mesque. My instinct is to consider this a poisoning, possibly carried out by someone at home, hoping if he died in Revachol—" Kim smiled slightly.
"That we wouldn't have the resources to investigate thoroughly." Pryce finished for him.
“Precisely, sir. " Kim folded his hands behind his back.
"I'll approve the food testing. Even rush it. But if this comes back positive. It would mean travelling to Mesque to solve it."
Kim nodded, "This was my thought, sir, yes. It's an interisolary case."
"Okay, I'll re~assign you. Harry?" Pryce was staring at him now, so Harry stopped doodling poison bottles and Turròn in the margin of his casenotes. He processed what had been said. "What?" he blurted.
Slowly, as if talking to an idiot, Pryce said, "Do you want to stick with the case and work with someone else, or do you want a new case with Lieutenant Kitsuragi?" The question was beginning to sound rhetorical.
Harry stood then, looming over Pryce, to the best of his ability, rather than cowering before him, "Why would you re-assign Kim?"
Kim stood, too, as quick as a sprung trap. He put a hand on Harry's chest. Oh. Had his body language been that aggressive? It was like Kim wanted to insinuate himself between two delinquents before they started to fight each-other. Harry frowned down at the hand, then at the Captain, who said nothing, eyes narrowed dangerously.
"No, Kim," Harry began, his voice getting slightly more intense, "this isn't like- Our captain. I want him to say it."
"Harry-" Kim began, softly spoken. His lined face looked sad. Was he always that sad-looking? He was just too used to this sort of thing.
"He's the most competent detective we have! " Harry continued, "I want to hear him justify, -"
Pryce stood, languidly, from his position leant against Jean's desk. "I'll re-assign you both, then." He clapped Kim on the back, shook his head at Harry, and strode back in the direction of his office.
Harry stared after him, dumbfounded.
“Harry, you can't act that way around the captain. It is beyond un-professional. He's the captain. His decisions are final. Not for you to debate." Despite his clear frustration just moments ago, his voice was compassionate, bordering on affectionate.
"But why would, he, Kim-"
"We talked about this. Lieutenant Kitsuragi."
"Lieutenant..." Harry nodded, frowned. Just waited.
"I don't work interisolary cases, Harry."
“Oh, so you can call me by my name, but—"
"Yes, detective. I can maintain a professional atmosphere. Boundaries. So I can use your name when things are a touch more personal, not in front of the captain," he interjected sharply, “Once you learn that skill..." Kim let the rest hang in the air. Harry knew all of this. His sulking was more about disappointment with himself than rebelling against what they had already agreed.
"Okay, but why? Don't people WANT interisolary cases? Usually?"
Just a couple of months back one had landed in the laps of a couple of detectives from B-wing, who had gleefully packed their bags, gotten on an aerostatic to Mundi and solved a case in Vredefort before taking their annual leave trying to see as much of the Mondial landscape as they could before needing to return to work proper. This type of piggybacking was common and considered a perk when RCM salaries were what they were. Officers were unlikely to have any other opportunity to holiday outside Face-a-la-Mer.
"I've never left Revachol." Kim said quietly.
That isn't a reason not to take interisolary cases. it's a CONSEQUENCE of it. A reason would have to be more... like," Harry floundered.
"When we're working a case together, I love that intellect." Kim said, touching Harry's-arm so gently it was barely perceptible. "But, Now? It's a little tiring. My personal life is not a case, and I cannot
have you Can-Openering me over it. I do not work Inter-Isoliary cases. This is noted in my file and the captain knows about it. There is no further mystery here for you to investigate."
"You're afraid. Of the Pale." Harry says, like a revelation.
"Everyone's afraid of the Pale!" Kim snapped, as loud as he had been, a drastic change, abrupt.
"Everyone's afraid of the Pale, Harry! We all are. It's not like arachnophobia or that whatever it was Trant kept going on about with the holes, it's a real threat. Fearing it is basic rationality. "
Kim's voice had risen still in volume and he stiffly realised there were eyes on them. Kim retreated to his desk. Harry trailed after him.
"Our discussion it already over, detective." Kim hissed.
"You don't want to see other Isolas?"
"Not enough, no. I see plenty. Books, Trant's slides..."
"But the experience... And, no, I know you know the Volta do Mar already, you do it every day, I-"
"Harry. You're prying" Kim cut him off, "Remember what we said about prying."
"Only if it's relevant to the case. But the thing is this is relevant to a case! If you think he was poisoned by something he brought from Mesque then the killer is in another Isola and we have to-"
"We do not have to do anything. Interisolary cases are extremely rare. There are plenty of officers who will be clamouring to take over from me. And you, unless you go and apologise to the captain and say you've changed your mind."
"So you don't mind me going?"
"Why would I?" Kim said archly, his eyes darting meaningfully towards the nearest occupied desk.
"But this is OUR case, how can you be so willing to just, pass it off like that? It's not like you... not at all. I want to work this case. I want to work it with you! I want to go to Mundi! I want to see Mundi with you..." Harry had completely lost control of his volume. Kim stood back up and tried to casually glance around the room, dismayed to note how much of an audience his partner's ravings had drawn. Jean wasn't just watching, he had stood up, his arms folded tightly over his chest. Imposing. Yet Kim intuited his gaze was not a curious gossipy one, like the others'. With the briefest flash of eye-contact, Jean communicated "I will come and take him off your hands if it gets too much. Say the word and I will Drag Harry Away." Kim was grateful, but determined to solve this alone. There was no way to be rid of curious Harry that wasn't just temporary relief.
Risking leaning in for one intimate moment, Kim hissed "I'll tell you later. Get back to work."
Harry spent the day buzzing.
When Harry let himself into Kim's apartment Kim was seated on the floor. Unmoving, he faced the wall. Harry was furious. They had worked on boundaries for a year, and the second Harry had stopped barging in on Kim in the bathroom, this was the highest priority. Once Kim sat down for Volta, Harry was not to say a word to him. Even once Kim stood up and seemed to resume normal activity, his lips still moving with the occasional snatch of of a phrase Harry couldn't read or recognise, Harry had to leave him alone. Only once Kim spoke, the first break of his silent contemplation, could Harry talk again. It was always a challenge. It had taken practice. It had taken all of Harry's volition to get here, but it was somewhat reliable now. Kim got his silent time. Now, practically vibrating with anticipation over the promises he had been made, it was next to impossible to stick to the rules. It felt almost cynical for Kim to take the first moment they were alone and block the conversation like that. Harry was tempted to call him on it. He might respect boundaries in general but this was ridiculous. But it felt too much like a trap. If Harry started a fight now it would be all the excuse Kim needed to not have the conversation at all. So Harry sat on the sofa and huffed frequently, but he didn't speak.
"I'm sorry." Kim said as soon as he stood up.
"For... what exactly?" Harry asked. He thought he knew the area but had learned it was better to be exact.
"Khm. I suppose I'm not sure." Kim gestured loosely to where he had been sitting and frowned. He sat beside Harry with a calculated margin of space between them. Anti-hostile, but acknowledging things were complicated at that moment.
"So... are you going to tell me?"
"I don't know how to be honest. So. No."
"But you-!" Harry's indignant reply began, then he seemed to realise how childish he sounded and brought it down. "Can I ask questions then?"
Kim snorted, "I doubt I could stop you. Ever. From asking questions." He added a reassuring half smile.
"Did you always feel like this? Or did you ever want to cross the pale or visit a porch collapse or-"
Kim's eyebrow quirked slightly and Harry silenced himself to wait for the answer.
"When I was a child, yes. It's a good thing I was born in Revachol. Six thousand miles from it. And in Insulinde, where the sea surrounds me. And poor. Too poor for an ocean-faring vessel or holidays to be a feature in my life."
Harry crosses his legs and folds his hands, like a child preparing for story-time.
"Because, yes," Kim took his glasses off for a moment, then replaces them, "There was a time, if I lived somewhere like Ubi Sunt? or... even... I would have let it destroy me." His voice had dropped to a whisper.
Harry was rapt with attention, and when he realised Kim wasn't going to say anything else unprompted it took him a moment to remember the question he was going to ask next. "But you've never been? So when did you change your mind?"
"When I was thirty-nine. Or..." he hesitated. "But, no, at some point before then. When I wasn't thinking about it, my mind changed. Some time between the ages of eleven and thirty-nine, it switched completely. Maybe gradually. I only noticed it when I had the opportunity to go."
"I guess I don't know. I might have traveled..."
"It's possible." Kim said, with the air that he didn't think it was likely however. "I could probably have scraped together the money for a short trip before then."
Harry nodded. Kim was a good saver.
"I guess I subconsciously chose not to consider it. I was too busy with work, or whatever excuse. So it was only when I had my first interisolary case. Out of Juvvie just over a year, people said I was obscenely lucky."
Harry leaned in slightly, but Kim winced at the proximity.
"You refused?" Harry asked, as he took the hint and put the slither of space back between them. It was obviously emotional intimacy or physical intimacy, and not both.
"Not at first. I felt... conflicted I suppose, but definitely excited. Just not in a wholly positive way. I was all set to leave but just as I should have stepped onto the aerostatic... I couldn't. My partner went alone, solved the case without me. Came back and requested a new partner, never spoke to me again." Kim relayed the prosaic string of events fast, as if he was trying to push the whole thing out before anyone could examine it. Harry was surprised, he would think this was the part that Kim would allow him to dwell on because it was so procedural. He filed a note away to try and find out who this partner was. There was no emotion in his voice, but Harry knew Kim well enough by now to recognise a minute spark of bitterness in the lines arround his eyes.
"He just... never spoke to you again?" Harry asked tentatively. This was probably a bad time to look into it, but his other questions seemed to have melted away.
"I couldn't explain to him why I just left him on the dock, alone... So I don't blame him, really. Since then I've refused those types of cases, it's not a problem. It's so expensive to cross the pale, any time we have the budget for that kind of case there is always a queue of people ready to take over. See the sights... be the dashing foreign hero and have sex with interesting strangers you can guarantee you'll never ever see again." Another twinge of bitterness. Harry began to put a narrative together in his head. It was probably wrong, but it was definitely interesting.
"And you couldn't tell him why. Your old partner?"
"No."
"But you can tell me?"
"I... Maybe. I still haven't yet, have I?" He smiled, slightly more genuine, self effacing but affectionate. Harry moved to take Kim's hand, then remembered and stopped. Instead he left his hand open in his lap. A buffet, affection if Kim wanted it.
Kim thought for a moment and gave his florid palm an experimental squeeze. There was a little pressure because he was impressed that Harry had learned not to just grab him any more. But then he withdraws his hand again. Somehow, Harry is out of questions.
"I really needed that. The Volta. When I got in. I wasn't just." Kim gestured expansively, "I wasn't just putting this off."
"Did you.... write something?" Harry asked with a layer of fake casualness that was so sheer it barely existed. There was a lot of variance in the practice, if it resulted in poetry at all, it was usually just snatches of phrases. Things that needed development. Kim would write them down, not as whole things, but broken and half remembered, once he was finished. He never seemed to work on them more. They came out of him in writing and were cast aside. Occasionally Harry would find these scraps of paper with a couplet or just three well chosen words. They were about as emotionally honest as Kim got.
"I did" Kim's bitter smile returned.
"Is it. About this?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to write it down?"
"Why don't you be my secretary?" Kim said sardonically. "And take dictation?"
"I can't write that fast, I... But I'd love to hear it."
Kim grabbed a notebook and pen and handed them to Harry.
"The pale is not the past" Harry began to scribble in the pause. Maybe this would work.
The Pale is not the past
there is no worse feeling than hope
when injudiciously applied.
It is not a place I could live or time I could regain
Hope can move you to the most obscene action
the pale is not. It cannot offer me a single thing I want.
It's more painful to see a face every day than forget it entirely.
It is leaving. Always. A tide that drags a shiny pebble away.
It says, come deeper. You can still reach it.
Everything lost is here to find. I can show you.
Come in, come in, come into the sea.
Its promises are empty.
'You can always return'."
"So, what's the pebble? Your-"
Kim shook his head abruptly. Not disagreeing. Merely warning Harry. He couldn't say it, so no-one should.
"It's a good poem, are you going to work on it more?" Harry asked instead.
Kim shook his head. "I don't do that."