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It's cold. A shiver goes down your spine as the wind blows against your clothes, damp and stuck to your skin. Heat radiates off you and evaporates from your pores as the remaining physical evidence of the dream you were just pulled out of start to fade. The punch of your heartbeat continues to ring in your neck and pulsates through your skull.
Martinaise looks small from the island shore. The quiet glow of people doesn't manage to reach where you both stand. But you can still see it all from here - the blinking colours of the disco ball illuminating the Whirling, begging you for some kind, any kind of attention. Fluorescent light pouring out of the bookshop window. A fire in the fishing village, and once your eyes trail back onto the Whirling you swear, for just a moment, you can gauge where the killer must've taken the shot, and feel the hairs on your back stand as something tells you, whispers directly into your ear canal, 'here, this is the spot'. Then it passes. This isn't over yet, Harry.
But how you wish it was. You shuffle your feet in the sand. Kim stares out with you, standing just to your side. He doesn't seem to be looking at anything in particular. You pull out a cigarette, and the spark of your lighter briefly pulls your eyes over Kim's disheveled, tired face. His jaw is bruised. His eyes are tired – sad, almost? His hair is out of place. An instinct flows through your body directing your arm to smooth it back down for him, or maybe even ruffle it up some more, but it rushes out through you as quickly as it flooded in. You continue to study his face and an image crystallises into your mind, sharp as stained glass.
A kind, caring scent of chestnut wafts through the air. Something is ripping your bare upper thigh apart, but you can't muster the energy to look down at what it could be. The smell is enough to sedate you and make you think it's all going to be okay. You turn your head what feels like half the diameter of your neck to the side and see a figure sitting next to you, his back faced towards you. You feel the back of his head brush against your chest. Your sight feels blurry, but also interrupted. Smoke has filled the room. You blink a couple of times. You feel lucid. Maybe this is all a dream, you've died and gone to hell? It would explain the throbbing pain searing through your body. In heaven, Kim Kitsuragi looks at you. And in heaven, you never got shot. The figure stares at nothing, and the figure leans the back of his head against your side, seemingly taking comfort in its rise and fall as he blows out a long lung-ful of smoke. He doesn't know you're awake. The glass shatters and you're back on this dreaded island.
Kim feels you staring. It's making him uncomfortable.
"Is everything alright, detective?" He wonders what you could possibly be looking at.
"What?" You snap out of your trance, "Oh, yeah, um," You point towards the Whirling.
"I was thinking this is where the shot could've been taken, but I don't think that anymore."
"Right," What he's supposed to say next is, 'shall we get going, then?', but part of him is okay with staying for just a bit longer. He doesn't think he's prepared for whatever's to come next - which deeply, deeply unsettles him. In the RCM, the case is all he has. He's always ready for the rough work it'll put him through. He doesn't like not being able to even imagine what could come next. It's the concussion talking, he thinks. He hasn't slept right in a couple days. He's seen worse.
Part of you wants to ask how he's holding up. The other part knows it'd annoy him if you did. Right now, what you two have been facing feels like it's about every single thing in the entire world other than yourselves. You don't have time to be wasting doing quite literally *nothing*. But two birds on a wire sit together yet again, looking at the water.
Something swirls within you. It comes quickly, viscerally, and you can't stop it. You feel her, unmoving, against your mouth. You twitch. Your immediate thought is to run into the sea and never look back. It's just a dream, and it always turns out the same way. Always to taunt you about what you'll never get again. But the thought quickly fades. It's not what brought on this wave of impulse. You throw your hands into your pockets.
But it won't leave. You look at Kim. He's so tired, poor Kim. And he took such, such good care of you. There's something ethereal about him as the softest glow barely reaches his glasses and reflects off of them, making his eyes invisible, and in turn, his expression unreadable. He isn't looking back at you. Something whirlpools inside your gut. One half feels like it's screaming at you to run away, while the other feels like it's getting the chance to have something it hasn't in a very long time.
There are a lot of things you've asked Kim to do for you for the week you've known each other. And for such an insular man, he hasn't been afraid to oblige or even simply indulge whatever has sprung into your mind. Kim trusts you — but you know that.
"Kim," you aren't thinking, "Can I ask you a favour?"
He sighs, audibly. He slowly turns to look at you. He's not upset with you, but he really doesn't want any more sidetracking. You've come this far.
"What is it, detective?"
You look in his eyes. You shuffle your hands in your pockets as you glance at his arms, knitted tightly behind his back. You look straight ahead. A voice in your head decides you can't bear to look at him if you're really going to ask. But he's seen worse than you, detective.
"Could you hold my hand?"
Kim blinks. For a moment, he's genuinely caught off guard. But only for a moment. He snaps his head back towards the water and swallows.
He wants to ask why. He hates it, he doesn't want to know, but something inside him needs to. He stays quiet. There are so many thoughts streaming through your mind that you can't seem to focus on what else he could be thinking.
"Would it help us move on from standing here?"
"I think so."
And neither of you move. He lets his hands fall to his sides as you slowly pull your right hand out of your pocket. Both of you keep staring into the distance. Staring at everything. All you can bring yourself to do is to brush your knuckles against his. Your finger curls around his index. Somehow, it feels like it could be enough.
Kim pulls his hand around yours and closes his fingers around your palm. The shock makes you look down at it, then him, but still, he doesn't look back. He's actively facing away from you now - he seems to have found something in his notes to keep him busy while you do whatever it is you need to do. You tighten your fingers around his palm.
A realisation awakens within Kim and you see him bolt his head around, searching for any potential witnesses. You step closer. He calms down, looks back at his notes and you step closer again. Your shoulders are touching and Kim tries not to focus on it until he breaks.
"Harry, what are you doing?" he looks behind him one last time, "Nobody can see us. Don't worry." He's whispering.
You pull your hand behind the both of you. A weak attempt to hide what you're both getting up to - as if anybody who *could* see the unprofessionalism being shown at the moment wouldn't be seeing it from behind you rather than directly infront - unless Joyce decided to make a sudden return visit on her boat.
"You should call me Harry more." You mutter.
Kim says nothing.
"I call you Kim all the time, so it's only fair."
"You're my superior, *lieutenant double-yefreitor*. That would be unprofessional." The irony is seemingly lost on him.
"So you took this as an order?" You grin and rub your thumb against Kim's hand, only to point attention to it.
You're met with silence, once again. You don't stop moving your thumb back and forth. Kim digs his nose further into his notebook. He's probably wondering when you'll decide you've had your fill.
"I suppose I did." He says, matter-of-factly.
Somehow it all feels natural. You keep thinking it's about time you let go now, but the warmth from his gloved hand which spreads through the veins in your arm and seeps into your blood to be reintroduced into the rest of your body is something you want to hold onto just a little bit longer. Kim has put his notebook away now. He readjusts his hand, loosening his grip for just a second. You tighten it in response, completely unwillingly. He lets out a fast sigh and for a second you can see a smile flicker on his face.
But as quickly as it started, you let go. Kim is almost surprised at how much you jolted your hand away from his, scratching the back of your head to give it something to do. The torrential waves seemingly circling eachother in your mind have seemed to have calmed down, for now. You turn around and knock Kim on the back.
"We've got a case to solve, Kim."
He nods, and immediately begins to follow you. You're okay with forgetting this, you're okay with moving on. You feel the impression of Kim's hand on yours, the same way you still feel his hand on your back, his hand on your arm. You swallow and the tide pulls back.