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Kim thinks there might be something wrong with him when he realizes, even after bagging over thirteen dead bodies, he"s actually in a really good mood.
They are driving home — their home— and Harry"s staring out the carriage window, warm orange sunset washing his hair red. He"s been silent, nothing but shallow breaths barely audible over the engine.
The case was brutal. Rotting bodies of group home out in the Pox, bodies baking despite the cool autumn sun.
No foul play. All overdose. Cases these days hardly involve a single body anymore.
But Kim didn"t even care, because Harry had been really funny all day. He kept trying to make Kim laugh, corny one liners between each autopsy, and when they bagged the bodies Kim remembered reveling in how light they were, Harry grabbing the feet Kim grabbing the heads as they tossed each family member into the back of the RCM"s wide-backed MC.
And driving home, all Kim can think about is the apartment they share, ghettos of Jamrock pulling up into the distance, and how warm Harry would be after a long shower, hands massaging into his back.
Kim looks over, staring at Harry, watching his chest rise and fall. He decides that Harry"s asleep, and chances taking one hand off the wheel to reach out and run his fingers through his hair.
Until suddenly when Harry starts, which makes Kim jump. He stares, eyes wide at Kim, who"s hand is frozen in midair, a little embarrassed despite himself.
"I — Um." Kim coughs, and yanks his hand back to the wheel, trying to regain control of the MC. "Sorry. I thought you were asleep."
"Pull over." Harry says. His voice is thick, and his eyes are glassy. Kim"s been doing this with Harry long enough to not immediately panic, and without even acknowledging, he pulls over to an empty road.
He turns and stares at Harry, waiting for him to say anything.
Harry stares blankly into the carriage compartment. His fists keep clenching and unclenching, in a way that makes Kim want to reach out, rub the tenseness right out from Harry"s palm. But Kim"s hands stay right on the wheel, nonchalant and quiet as he waits for Harry to finish thinking what he needs to think.
It goes on for a while. At around ten minutes Kim moves to turn the key, turn the MC back on again, when suddenly Harry whips around and opens the passenger-side door.
Without even thinking, Kim follows him, swinging the door open and stepping out onto the empty city street with Harry.
"I"ve got something I wanna give you." Harry says, when Kim rounds the corner.
"Okay."
"..."
Nothing happens. Kim raises his eyebrow, and starts to reach his hand out expectantly.
"Close your eyes."
Kim snorts, and keeps his eyes open. He turns his palm down. "I"m not doing that. I am not falling for another one of your juvie pranks."
"Kim, I"m serious."
"You were serious the last time too." Kim says, smirking.
"Kim!" Harry starts, voice almost bordering on a yell. The sound surprises Kim, but he manages not to jump. Harry, realizing himself, squeezes his temples hard, and quiets down.
"Goddamnit," he mutters. "I need you to listen to me."
The almost outburst does unfortunately, make Kim want to listen to Harry, and dare he say it, take him seriously. Kim lets out a loud, ostentatious sigh, and stretches his palm out. He closes his eyes, heartbeat pulsing gently in his ears.
"Well. You have me." Kim says. "Make it good."
In the darkness, he hears Harry shuffle forward in the sand. He feels Harry hold his hand, trace his palm reverently. Despite it all, it still makes Kim blush, and his heart starts beating out of his chest. The roughness of Harry"s hands starts to climb up his arm, until it now moves to Kim"s face, cradling the side of it with his thumb.
Kim"s lips part expectantly. It wouldn"t be so bad if Harry made them stop just to kiss him. He likes kissing Harry. He likes how quiet it gets. He feels his neck crane unconsciously, force of habit, tipping up to meet Harry"s lips.
Instead, suddenly, Kim feels something cold pressed into his palm. Metal, cold, and circular —
What the fuck.
"What the fuck." Kim immediately opens his eyes. Definitely wrong thing to say, because Harry"s face twists. Kim looks down at his hand, surely hoping that it"s probably another frog, or lizard, or maybe even disgusting something involving slime.
But no, Kim"s eyes, hands, and heart don"t deceive him.
A simple, silver ring lies in the middle of Kim"s palm. And Harry, his heart on his sleeve, staring, boring holes right into the center of Kim"s face, reading everything he"s feeling.
"So uh," Harry laughs, scratching his head. "Should I get down on one knee now or?"
There"s just silence, as Kim ignores Harry"s attempts to make eye contact with him, to instead look at this thing that"s now in his hand.
"Harry." Kim says, ever so slowly. "What am I looking at?"
"It"s a ring."
"I can see that," Kim says, surprisingly coherent considering he can"t even hear his own thoughts over his heart actually exploding. "Are you going to make me ask what the ring is for?"
"Well uh." Harry laughs again, an obvious attempt to conceal panic. "Well, if you agree to wear the ring, you"ll have to be married to me."
That gets met with more silence.
Kim realizes that what"s crawling up his throat is abject horror.
Harry just keeps staring at him, begging him for a response.
It was too much to ask for, too naive, Kim thinks. That he could just have this, have Harry, and nothing would need to change. That he would just get to have this easy thing where they banter over dead bodies, solve murders, spend long afternoons and evenings together and kiss and sleep with each other and take each other"s hearts without someone somewhere expecting more.
Maybe Kim is evil. That has to be the explanation for how badly he"s reacting.
"Harry," Kim says, looking up at him, begging him to not take this as badly as Kim knows he will. "No."
A beat. Dry wind starts picking up litter as it moans its way towards them. The shit-eating, panic grin that Harry"s been wearing is now frozen on his face. Kim"s hand is also frozen out in front of him, the elegant ring glinting in the afternoon sun.
"Well." Harry says, loudly. The manic smile is now starting to stretch over his face in a way that is starting to make Kim freak out. "Guess I"ll - haha - uh - Kidding! I got you, um. so good! Awesome. Super cool. Damn, well haha, I am going to go find the nearest gun to shoot myself with, you should give me that —"
"Harry!" Kim yells, but he"s too late. Lightning fast reflexes make it so that in a second, Harry"s hand swipes the silver disc from his hand, and before Kim can even stop him Harry"s pitched his right hand over his shoulder and he"s flung the ring far, far off into the distance.
"You idiot -" Kim snaps, but Harry"s faster.
"Well! Would you look at that? Pitching arm is still as good as ever — . So, uh. So I think." Harry squints his eyes into the distance, he"s avoiding Kim"s eyes out of what clearly looks like preservation. "Ha so, uh. I actually got a ton of work to do over in the office, so I"m just gonna start walking over if you do not mind, uh, pal. Buddy. See ya soon, or never, whichever one comes first —"
But before Harry can do something even dumber, Kim"s hand immediately reaches out to grab Harry"s wrist, sinews locking him in place.
"Stop. Calm down." Kim snaps, ordering him. Harry doesn"t look like he"s calmed down, but he does stop heading off into what"s clearly a random direction. "You don"t get to do that. Pull a promise like that out of nowhere. You scared me."
Harry"s gone completely silent, eyes far away. Perfect, that works for Kim, he should keep his mouth shut for twenty minutes.
"Before we say anything to each other, or do anything, I want it very clear." Kim says, his voice full. "I said no but I am not leaving, okay?"
Harry"s still not meeting Kim"s eyes.
"Okay?" Kim repeats. Harry turns around, face unreadable. But he nods once. "Good. You." Kim takes a shaky breath, lets go of Harry"s hand and runs a wild hand through his hair. "You fucking — " Kim says, heart full of something that makes him really sad. "What did you think was going to happen?"
Harry shrugs. "Thought you"d say yes."
"Where"d you even get a ring? Did you—" Kim swallows, "Did you get it made?" And now you"ve just thrown it, and it"s gone forever? "Have you just been — holding onto it, thinking about it, planning it —"
"I found it when we packed my apartment up," when we moved in together. "It was beneath some couch cushions the entire time."
"Dora"s ring." Harry says, softly.
And just like that, the guilt twisting itself into knots into Kim"s stomach evaporates, because now, it"s not about Kim, and his dead parents, and his dead partner, and his commitment issues. It"s actually all about Harry, and Dora, and their big disaster. And once again, Harry"s decided to make it Kim"s problem.
It"s cleansing almost, the pure rage that gets left behind.
"Oh, fuck you." Kim spits.
"Fuck me? Fuck you — you"re rejecting me!" Harry snaps back.
Kim immediately gets in Harry"s face, inches away because Harry, stubborn bastard, stays right where he is. "I"m not taking Dora"s garbage." Kim hisses.
He actually wants to hit Harry. Like actually punch him. Show him he"s not some rich blonde girl that he can just knock up, marry, and then break over his leg.
Instead he turns around and immediately starts stalking back to the car.
"Kim, come on—" Harry says, following right behind him.
"You want to sleep in the 41st?" Kim says, voice ice. "Be my guest. Maybe you"ll find her ring again on your way there" he sucks in a breath, all meanness. "Maybe you"ll find your way to Graad."
"Kim, slow the fuck down."
Kim gets into the motor carriage, slamming the door shut even though he knows Harry isn"t far behind. He fishes for the keys and starts the engine, missing like hell his old Kineema, how fast it picked up speed, how fast it left everything behind.
You aren"t going to actually leave him here.
Yeah? Try me.
Harry"s still shouting, voice muffled by the glass window. The engine just stalls, Kim gripping the steering wheel as hard as he could, as Harry just keeps shouting his name over and over, figure limping up in the distance.
"Hey! Hey - you"re mad. You"re really mad. I"m sorry. Okay? I"m sorry. Just let me in."
"Kim, please just let me in."
He was trying to give you her ring. He was trying to give you her ring and pretend it was about you, when it"s always going to be about her.
You can"t say you weren"t warned. They said that this is what he does.
You knew this is what would happen if you let him kiss you. You knew that if you let him fuck you, let him move in with you, that he would root and infect you and do something like this.
And now you are upset, in fact embarrassed, because as smart as you are you feel just as burned as everyone else before you.
Kim sighs, buries his fingers into his eyes. Harry has stopped saying anything, just staring, staring, at Kim through the glass, hand fisted against the window.
Leaning off his bad leg.
Kim reaches over, and opens the passenger side door. It swings open, buffeted only by the gaining wind.
They stare at each other in silence. Kim pointedly doesn"t invite Harry in, just staring straight ahead, jaw clenched.
Harry clears his throat. Does Kim the favor of breaking the tension first. "You aren"t going to like this, but I meant it all. The proposal." Harry says, in lieu of an apology.
"It"s not Dora"s ring. I"m sorry. It was hers, but now it"s not, because I want you to have it."
Kim just wanted to eat dinner and take a shower.
Kim sighs. "Just get in the car."
Harry gets in the car.
****
Kim tries not to think too hard about the last time he ever saw Martinaise.
He supposes Martinaise falling was for the best. What remained of the district sinking into the Pale brokered an uneasy peace between Revachol"s remaining factions — as within the week of the town"s demise, the mostly fantasy science of isolatary entroponetics quickly became essential to tracking the little holes spreading across Sur-la-Clef like a tumor.
He remembers the call, when Precinct 57th and 41st were called in to assist. And how, with his heart in his throat, he barged into Pryce"s office — got on his knees in front of the captain — and actually begged him to leave Harry behind.
First reported deaths that day were already at 78. And as Kim fell to his knees, unable to control his breathing, hysterically trying to keep his composure, Precinct 34 and Precinct 89 were already radioing in more casualities, desperately trying to control the Pale"s spread within the town.
Pryce didn"t listen to Kim. Obviously.
No one ever does.
That day Harry, Kim, and the rest of the precinct spent the entire day pulling body after body out of the silence, Kim dizzy on his own terror, heart in his throat everytime he saw Harry"s back disappear again into the gray, mouth screaming his name until his voice was hoarse.
And then for weeks after, even when the Coalition had completely sealed Martinaise off from the rest of Revachol, Kim would jerk awake, short of breath, convinced every other second that Harry disappeared.
"Kim?" Harry asks now, timidly, jolting Kim out of his thoughts. "You getting out?"
Kim blinks. He didn"t even realize they"d driven back from the precinct.
Harry stares at him, waiting for him to say something. Or at least to get out of the car, and climb up to their apartment together. But Kim just stays, frozen in his seat, gloves gripping into the leather of the steering wheel.
"I shouldn"t have said it was Dora"s." Harry starts, quieter than he usually is. "I"m sorry. It"s not, it"s mine I don"t—" he blinks. "I don"t know who told me to say that."
Harry was the last RCM officer to emerge from the Pale that day. Vicquemare had to cuff Kim to his car to stop him from running back for him, and Kim with bloodshot eyes screamed at Vicquemare every cruel thing he"d ever learned about him over these past couple of years, genuine hate for his fellow officers filling his throat as he ordered, then screamed, then begged them him to let him go back for Harry.
And when that didn"t move them, Kim started to twist his wrist, breaking his bones to loosen the handcuff"s grip.
And just when he was about to hear that telltale crack, Harry limped out from the fog, just only a little worse for wear. A boy in his arms, coughing.
The first and only survivor of Martinaise.
"The Pale told me how to find him," Harry said, eyes completely glazed over, spacey smile stretching across his face. "And she says she"s sparing us."
So while Kim woke up screaming every night, not letting Harry even use the bathroom without leaving his sight, Harry started spacing out. He started muttering to himself, talking to seemingly no one in particular.
Which Kim was used to — he was pretty familiar with how Harry"s brain worked — except now he started to do that for hours at a time. Unresponsive to Kim. Eyes far away, glassy like that day he emerged from the Pale. Even when Kim would beg him to turn and look at him. Even though the sun had set, Kim sitting in front of Harry, tears in his eyes, hands on Harry"s wrists, for the entire day, and Harry wouldn"t even get up.
Even when Kim, in his anger, would rear his arm back, and slap Harry as hard as he could to try and wake him up. Even when Kim would turn around, leave, and walk around Jamrock, leaving Harry alone.
He would come back, hours later. Just to find Harry in the exact same spot.
"Kim, can you look at me?" Harry asks now.
Kim didn"t even realize it, but he"s been crying. Slow, quiet tears roll from his eyes without his permission.
Kim finally takes his hand off the steering wheel. He slowly reaches up and wipes his face.
He stares at his hand. Completely still.
Then he turns around and finally looks Harry in the eye.
Harry brings one hand up to Kim"s neck, thumb tracing the stubble of his hair. He then brings his right hand up to Kim"s face, stroking his cheek and wiping away the rest of Kim"s tears.
And the two of them stay there for a while. Harry, almost hugging Kim, silently rubbing his neck, as Kim, head low, breathing in Harry"s arms.
"Kim," Harry whispers, bringing his head into Kim"s neck. He sounds really sad. "Kim, why did you say no?"
"Because we live in a shithole." Kim says immediately. Honestly. "Because my brain is shit, and I"m going to die." he stops.
"Because you are going to die." he continues, in a smaller voice.
He feels Harry smile. "And my brain is shit?"
Kim finally calms down enough to look up at Harry.
"I don"t think your brain is shit." Kim says.
"Okay." Harry says, confidently. "Well then, if my brain isn"t shit, then that means I"m not going to die. Which also means you"re not gonna die, because your brain is also not shit."
Kim laughs weakly. "No, even if both our brains aren"t shit, we are both still going to die."
"Stop." Harry cups Kim"s face with both hands, and tilts his head up. "Stop saying that. We"re gonna live forever."
He is not. And if Kim agrees to marry him, Harry is going to die and he"s just going to leave Kim here. He"s already leaving him behind.
Kim looks at Harry. Contemplates him. His hair is getting long again, and right now a lock of it is falling into his eyes.
He reaches up, in lieu of any response. Tucks it behind his ear. Smiles uncontrolled at the way that Harry ducks his head, to make it a little easier for him.
Kim can hardly help himself. He leans in and kisses him.
****
They burst through the apartment, and Harry slams the door shut by pressing Kim to the wall, hands gripping his waist.
Kim lets himself enjoy this, the feeling of Harry looming over him, moving him exactly where he wants, kissing him exactly the way he wants. Harry"s hand grips the small of his back, and Kim lets himself curve into Harry"s body, how warm he is in his jacket, throwing his arms around Harry"s neck.
"Tell me if you need me to stop." Harry whispers, right into Kim"s ear. Kim just pants in response, as Harry shoves his hand up Kim"s shirt, fingers dragging up his back, forcing Kim closer.
When Kim doesn"t answer, distracted by kissing Harry, distracted by his beard scratching against his cheek, his mouth, Harry pushes his leg in between Kim"s, drawing out a surprised moan from Kim as Harry starts to work his thigh against Kim"s crotch. "Tell me that you like this."
God, Harry gets so arrogant like this, when Kim just lets him do whatever he wants, however he wants. Kim doesn"t let it happen often, more often than not because he"s greedy, and he loves it too much, how obedient Harry is, how he listens to everything Kim says.
If this were any other day Kim would fight back, make Harry work for it, make him fight Kim for it. Kim pulls away from Harry"s neck, eyes defiant as he starts thrusting wildly into Harry"s thigh, rough courdoroys dragging against Kim in a way that makes him dizzy, unable to think straight.
He did reject the man"s proposal. Maybe let"s just do what he wants.
"Fuck Harry," Kim says, voice theatrically desperate, putting on a little show. His face curls up into a smirk, as despite the pleasure, his eyes never lose their slight insubordination. "That feels so good." he says, flatly, as flatly as he can, but he"s starting to get breathless, as Harry"s hands tighten on him, pushing him harder up against his leg.
Something flashes across Harry"s face, and that"s all the warning he gets before Harry grabs him and presses him face first against the wall. Harry"s hands reach around and start palming his crotch, jerking a gasp out of Kim, and he"s panting against his neck, finding the soft flesh part between his neck and shoulder that he kisses, then all of a sudden, bites.
"Fuck!" Kim moans, meaning it this time. It kind of hurts, he jerks away from Harry in surprise, but he can"t move far with Harry looming over him. Harry just shoves him harder against the wall, hands undoing and pulling his pants down in one quick motion.
"You like that?" Kim pants, turning to look at Harry. "Having me all to yourself—" he gets cut off when Harry starts to roughly jerk him off, with no intention of making him last. "Doing whatever you want to me?"
"Don"t need to want what I already have." Harry groans into Kim"s ear. Kim feels himself blush, and he tries to snap his head back so Harry wouldn"t be able to see, but Harry takes his hand off his dick and grabs his neck, forcing him back so he has to look at Harry. "Look at me when I"m about to fuck you."
"So that"s what you"re going to do? Fuck me?" Kim snarks back, but his breathing is ragged, and Harry really likes that.
"Nothing you aren"t already used to, Lieutenant. " Harry mutters, before he bites Kim again, Kim letting out a panicked yelp as Harry starts sucking another a dark bruise below his neck.
That night, Kim lets Harry push him onto the floor, both of them still half dressed, as Harry opens him up and fucks him hard just two steps away from the door. Kim let him get rough, with his hand buried in Kim"s hair and forcing him back, forcing his mouth open with his fingers so he can hear Kim moan Harry"s name as he finishes, and Harry biting where his shoulder meets his neck, bites his chest, then biting the soft flesh of his thigh.
When they finish, they lie on the floor for hours in complete darkness. Kim"s skin feels raw, bruised, and he turns to Harry, who"s just staring up at the ceiling, panting. He doesn"t quite look at Kim, Kim guesses maybe because Harry"s a little embarrassed by what he just did.
He"s so cute it makes Kim"s heart ache.
"You vampire." Kim jokes, in an attempt to show Harry that he has nothing to worry about. "Someone got a little carried away."
"I hid the marks." Harry mutters, into the darkness. "I made sure to put them where no one could see."
Kim lets himself wind his fingers through Harry"s hair, petting it back before he presses a gentle kiss on Harry"s lips. "We should get up and go to bed."
Harry stills for a second, and Kim almost worries he did something wrong, said something wrong. Both of which he knew he did today. Then without warning Harry bear hugs Kim and traps him on the floor. "I don"t want to get up. I"m tired." he mumbles into his neck. "I wanna stay here."
"We are not twenty, get up before you hurt your back." Kim says, trying to squirm out of Harry"s grip, without much success. Harry"s arm is starting to deaden around your waist.
"They"re telling me to stay here." Harry mumbles. He"s starting to drop off. He always falls asleep after sex. "They said you"ll protect me here."
"I"ll protect you no matter what." Kim says, easily. "Get up, c"mon."
"No." Harry says. Final. "We"re staying here."
"Harry, seriously. Let"s get up —"
"Kim, I"m not moving." Harry says, sharply.
And so when Harry falls asleep, trapping Kim by his side, keeping him warm in their freezing cold apartment, Kim stares all night at some random area beneath their table, the moon casting an eerie glow into their window.
He closes his eyes, realizing he"s too tired to fight with Harry. Sometimes it is just easier to do what he says, just to trust what he"s thinking.
Kim falls asleep.
****
He dreams again of Martinaise.
He"s standing in the abandoned hull of the town, delapated buildings with wilting signage that he can"t read anymore.
Kim smells oil, and he knows without even looking what"s coating the bottom of his boot. He stands patiently in the town square, and like clockwork the broken buildings start to move together, steel beams shaking off their disuse to join into the coagulating structure of the town.
Like the beautiful clockwork of the phasmid, what"s left of the town reshapes before Kim"s very eyes, wooden planks, litter, and ship hulls joining together to form the unmistakable shape of a figure, of a curious attempt at a human being.
"Hello." Kim says.
"Hey Kim." Harry"s voice booms instead out of the maw of steel, spindly legs moving closer towards him as a shipping crate opens and closes, in an imitation of a human mouth.
Harry"s warmth is unmistakable, no matter what form.
"Detective." Kim says, smiling. The machine that is Harry DuBois whirrs and starts in response, as the hulking mass of construction tries to reposition itself.
"Marry me." the mass asks. Kim is charmed to find that the structure has gotten down on one knee, and even though it has no face Kim feels like it"s smiling in the beatific way that Harry usually does.
"Sure." Kim finds himself saying. "Why not. What"s the worst that can happen?"
Kim thinks Harry is laughing, but instead what he hears is the tittering of materials, as each part of the old town moves in a joyful musicality at Kim"s response. It moves to wrap its arms around Kim, steel beams and lorry hooks wrapping around Kim in a cold, mechanical embrace. Kim finds himself sinking into it, the dark heart of Harry"s chest, the cold metal constricting him until he starts to struggle to breathe.
"I love you Kim." Harry says. Kim tries to respond, but he coughs, and keeps coughing, until he sees he"s spat out nails and metal gears onto the snow covered ground, and thick, gaseous oil spews from his lips instead of blood.
"Harry, I think I"m —"
****
Kim wakes up, his neck sore, his mouth disgusting, when he finds that Harry has already gotten up.
He"s sitting up on their couch slash futon slash bed, freeing Kim to get up, try to snap his neck (and his back for that matter, Jesus) back into place. He checks the time, and finds that if they hurry, they might actually make it to work at a reasonable hour.
"How long have you been awake?" Kim says, groaning and working his back into a long stretch. He walks over, and rounds the corner to look Harry. "I"ll forgive you for not cooking breakfast if you put your clothes on and walk with me to work."
Except when Kim finally looks Harry in the eyes, his stomach sinks like a stone.
Harry"s not here again.
"Harry." Kim says, still. Willing himself not to snap. Just as he expected, Harry ignores him. His eyes are far away and glassy, and Kim"s been doing this long enough that he knows not to bother when Harry gets like this.
So instead of begging, Kim, robotically, walks to the bathroom. He examines his body in the shower, all purple and green and blue from the bruising. He presses, hard, on the one on his thigh, to wake himself up, and he hisses in pain. He lets the shower spit cold water on him as he washes away last night, and attempts to wash away the ache that has now settled in his joints from sleeping on the floor, and well.
He towels off. Puts on his RCM uniform.
When he walks out, grabbing his keys, Harry is sitting in the exact same spot. Unmoving.
And despite himself, Kim feels just pure rage grip him, almost uncontrollable as he thinks about lobbing his gun, safety on, as hard as he can at Harry"s head, to see if it jolt a reaction out of him.
Instead, without a word, Kim turns around, keys cold against his fingers, and leaves the apartment.
****
"If he keeps doing this," Vicquemare says, as he slaps a new case on Kim"s desk. "Pryce is going to let him go."
"That won"t change anything." Kim says, shortly. "You know he wants to leave the RCM."
"Kitsuragi, I don"t want to state the obvious here —"
"Then don"t say anything at all." Kim snaps.
Vicquemare sighs. Looks at Kim, almost with pity in his eyes. Kim ignores him easily, flipping open the case, bracing himself already for what he"s about to see.
Just as he expected, it"s disgusting, and Kim, after all these years, barely suppresses a gag.
"You need any help?" Vicquemare says, jabbing his cigarette in the casework"s direction. You shouldn"t do work like this alone, is what goes unsaid.
"Don"t patronize me." Kim says sharply. "Harry"s fine. Say anything to Pryce I will make you regret it." he says simply. Vicquemare mumbles something under his breath, probably something vulgar, and throws his hands up in defeat.
"This world is going to hell Kitsuragi." Vicquemare says, voice hard. "Make sure you know who you are spending it with."
And then he turns, and goes back to his desk.
Kim"s head hurts. The second he finishes reviewing the case he"s going to step out and have the fuck out of a cigarette. The smoky, ash from Vicquemare"s Astra lingers in the air, and all Kim wants to do is to step out into the frost and bask in the warmth of a light.
Instead, he turns to review the paperwork.
It"s just about as gruesome as he"s used to — given the events of the past year. Another family, dead. The Haverfords, Kim saw them a few times when he was walking through Central, the clan of four shuffling across the street, their heads down. Now, everyone except the eldest daughter was found in their shared one bedroom, the patriarch found with 38 stab wounds in his chest, and the others — the mom, their young son, throats slit clean through the middle.
He sighs. Wonders where the daughter could"ve gone. Then he stands up, casework tucked underneath his arm, and steps out into the cold.
At 10 am he lights his Astra, takes a long drag with his eyes closed, and blows the smoke out in a long, relieved exhale.
He keeps his eyes closed, and he thinks he sees the phasmid again, it"s spindly form rising through the trash. He thinks he sees Harry, chasing him down, fully dressed, apologizing for being late to work. But then he finishes his cigarette, and opens his eyes.
The Haverfords don"t live too far from the station. Kim still drives the MC over, to transport the bodies, but he manages to the close the distance in a matter of minutes. He parks outside the tenement, already bracing himself for what he"s going to see when he steps in.
However, before he can even get out of the car, the eldest Haverford is sitting on the front steps, shoulders hunched. Her eyes lift slowly, acknowledging Kim as he steps over.
"Angela Haverford." Kim says. He sticks his hand out. "Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi, Precinct 41." Angela takes his hand, gripping it slightly before just letting her hand drop entirely. "I am an RCM Officer."
"Don"t bother going in." Angela says, eyes staring somewhere far into the distance. "I did it."
"Why don"t I take you down to the station." Kim says. "You can warm up at least."
"Hey, pig. Cmon." Angela looks up at him, and lifts her hands up, linked together. "I did it. Just take me to jail."
Kim notices something on her hand, and the sight of it makes him bust out laughing without warning.
Dora— no Harry"s— ring, on her index finger. Silver glinting in the sun.
Angela stares at him, surprise jolting her out her trance, as suddenly Kim, this buttoned up RCM officer, suddenly could barely keep himself standing with how hard he"s laughing.
Half the block can hear them at this rate, as Kim raises a hand to his face, an attempt to cover his mouth, but his stomach is starting to hurt and tears are beginning to spring to his eyes from the effort — "Jesus christ kid." Kim says, trying to calm himself down. "Where the hell did you get that?"
She yanks her hand away, covering the ring up. "It"s mine." she says. "You can"t have it."
"You are a confessed criminal. Answer the question." he said simply. And Angela whimpers, backing away. People have a tendency to listen to Kim, except when it actually matters.
"I found it on the street. And then my…" she looks back into her house. "My family. They were going to make me sell it."
Her grip tightens, shielding the ring from view. The one precious thing this girl has in her life, clasped protectively near her chest.
And Dora left it in some couch cushions when she left him.
"Harry fucking Dubois." Kim chuckles, still laughing to himself. This only freaks the kid out more, because now has Kim not just started laughing, he"s now just muttering the names of people she doesn"t recognize. God, her family stinks, Kim thinks, he can smell them from out here. They are probably rotting as they speak.
"Yeah." Kim says. He finally looks up at her, smile on his face. "Yeah I guess it is yours."
The girl frowns, she"s starting to get mad. "Hey, are you crazy?" the girl demands.
Kim looks out over the Jamrock skyline. He looks out over the shambling tenements, the ghettos that stretch for miles. He thinks how he can see someone everyday, crossing the same street as him, only for them all to be murdered the day after.
He thinks about how the world is ending. How on most days he can"t think clearly, probably pale exposure. How most of the officers who had to save people that day are slowly losing it, forgetting things, losing things, entering numbers wrong, mispelling common words. And he thinks about how the sky is red, and it wasn"t red before, and how Martinaise was there, and now it isn"t.
Captain Pryce told Kim, two weeks ago, in one of those rare moments he wasn"t with Harry, that the RCM is losing its war against the Moralintern. And that, in a bigger sense, Revachol West is losing the war against crime, and if the RCM loses the war against the Moralintern, it will have no authority over anything, anywhere. And that Revachol, all of Revachol, will fall into gang rule, as the different factions ruling the west will fight themselves to death, neither side having quite enough manpower to destroy the other.
The west"s instability threatening the prosperity of the east.
"If that were true," Kim said, not quite sure why Pryce called him of all people into his office. "The west—"
"The Coalition will simply have to get rid of the west." Pryce replied. His eyes, like everyone else in this god forsaken city, staring somewhere far far away. "Kim. I think we might"ve finally reached the end of the line."
Kim thinks about that conversation now. All these different worries, conversations, implications, that he simply kept from Harry over the years. How he thought about bringing it up to Harry, the question of the end, about the failed revolution, but saw him there, in his pajamas, sitting on the couch. And figured he didn"t have the energy to do that to him.
"Hey, Angela." Kim says. Her simple name rolls smoothly off his tongue. "Here." Kim doesn"t even know what he"s doing, or why he"s doing this but he hardly cares. It"s not like he never arrested a kid before, he doesn"t know why he"s doing this for her. "Here"s 50 real." He gives her the rest of his RCM paycheck for the month. "Just go. I would suggest you change your name, but honestly, I don"t think anyone would really care."
"Mister —" the girl looks surprised. Really surprised.
"The world is ending. No one"s going to care that you killed your family. You guys are nobodies. Your family died nobodies. Take the privilege that it is and run." Kim says.
The girl looks at him, something difficult swimming in her eyes. She stares at him, hard. But she gets up. She turns to look at him, as if suspecting that he might change his mind, and pull out his gun, and start shooting at her. But then she starts down the street, her shoes, soles flapping from use, and she starts running as fast as she can, faster and faster until she disappears down the street, blinking out in the Revacholian skyline.
Kim watches her go. He steps into the Haverford house. It"s gruesome what she did to them. The dad especially. Kim released a monster, a real criminal, but he finds that he hardly cares. The feeble authority, the feeble law RCM held over Revachol, it"s ending soon. Everyone knows this.
He bags each of their bodies. Methodical. He puts another family in the back of his car. He sits in the drivers seat and fills out his paperwork on the Haverfords out on the steering wheel. Dead. Dead. Dead. Missing. Case under investigation. He tosses the case carelessly into the passenger seat. He starts the MC, and instead of driving back to the precinct, he drives back home.
When he gets back, Harry is still in the same place. But when Kim slams the door shut, Harry actually turns to look at him.
"Hey." Harry says.
"Hey." Kim replies, testily. "How good of you to join us."
"I"m sorry." Harry says. But his voice is flat. His heart isn"t really in it. "I tried to get them to let me move."
"Sure. Whatever." Kim says. He throws his keys on the counter.
"You"re home. Like really early. Like —"
"Like my partner didn"t come with me to work, again? Yeah. I"m home early." Kim says. He puts his jacket, hangs it up on the hook. "Thanks for that, by the way.
"Kim."
"I"m going to make us lunch. And you"re going to eat it." Kim says, walking over to the kitchen.
"Stop moving." Harry says, serious.
Kim stops moving, back facing Harry.
"Kim. I think I have it pretty good authority that the Coalition is going to bomb Revachol West."
Kim sighs. Pinches the bridge of his nose.
"When?"
"Revachol told me by the end of this week. The city called us a failed state. The Moralintern and The Coalition are passing a bill by tomorrow, and by Friday Revachol West will be wiped off the map." Harry says, simply.
Kim has what he calls a healthy skepticism of the things that talk to Harry in his head, in that he resents them for taking Harry away from him, but knows well enough that what Harry hears, what he manages to "intuit" on the worst of days, is correct enough that Kim knows better than to assume that Harry"s just had a "bad day" and is being "crazy."
If Harry says Revachol is going to be destroyed, then so be it. But at this point, Harry is just stating what everyone who still chose to live here, just assumed.
That by the looks of things, they were living on borrowed time.
He thinks of letting Angela Haverford go, with Harry"s ring twisted on her finger. He wonders how far she will go before she gets killed as well.
"Well." Kim says simply. "I don"t have enough money to leave. Do you?"
Harry pauses. And what looks like a smile crosses his handsome face. "No. I don"t think I do.
"Well." Kim says. "What do we have? End of Friday?"
"If everyone"s to be believed. Yes."
"Well. Better convince enough people to try and stop it, I guess." Kim says.
"Find enough people who care about the west. Gonna be pretty hard." Harry replies. But they are smiling at each other, the way they do with all their cases. Making each other laugh, finishing each other"s sentences. Kim"s other half.
"Well, you didn"t hear this from me, but you can take someone"s money, take someone"s family." Kim says, smiling. "But taking someone"s home, that seems to be grounds for revolution."
"I would be inclined to agree, Lieutenant Kitsuragi." Harry says. And they are both just smiling at each other, as if they each told the greatest joke ever heard, instead of hearing that their home might be wiped off the map as soon as Friday.
Before Kim says what he says next, he wants to make sure he clears some things up with Harry. Because what he"s about to do is pretty crazy. Real crazy. Not Harry crazy.
"I let a murderer take Dora"s ring." Kim says, in lieu of nothing. Maybe he was a little mad about everything Harry put him through the past 48 hours, because maybe he could"ve worded that a little better. Harry looks a little slapped, but not angry.
"Okay." Harry says. "Not really sure what that means."
"What it means is that a murderer, found Dora"s ring." Kim says, "And killed her family because they tried to make her sell it for cash."
"Hm." Harry says. They are talking in a matter of two people have seen too much gruesome shit for it to really make an impression. "That ring was expensive. Did you get it back?"
"Nope." Kim says. Now he"s really smiling. Relishing, despite himself, the last of Dora disappearing into the skyline, never to be found again. "I let her go."
"Well." Harry says. His face unreadable. "Guess we are really never getting married now. I don"t have money to buy another one."
"Nah. We are getting married." Kim says simply. He gets down on one knee.
Harry starts laughing.
"What the actual fuck." Harry says.
"We don"t have a ring, on the account I cannot afford one. If by some miracle we survive the Moralintern carpetbombing us to death, I"ll make sure we have the best ring nothing can buy."
"But." Harry says, smiling.
"But." Kim says. "I want to spend forever with you. Even though forever will probably be only until the end of this week."
"But forever," Harry hits back, immediately. "Can also mean forever."
"That," Kim says. He"s not even trying to hide how happy, he realizes, out of nowhere, this promise makes him. "is true."