Chapter Text
“Kim! We have to go in there!”
Harry was pointing at a small store that seemed to be wedged into a space that used to be an alleyway, a forgotten space in the heart of Central Jamrock, nestled between a butcher shop and a vacuum repair shop. The sign was so worn as to be almost illegible. The name of the shop itself was missing but there was still a small sign which read: Unusual artifacts. Esoteric miscellany. Pale-aged totems. Secondhand items.
“Odd,” Kim said, “I walk on this street all the time but I’ve never noticed that place before.”
The shop was clearly not new. A layer of dust a centimeter thick coated the books and curios in the front window. Everything was faded, as if it had been laying in the sun for years.
“C’mon, Kim, don’t you want to see what’s in there?” Harry smiled his most charming grin. He knew how well it worked.
“Hm, so you can spend your money on something you might as well find laying on the street?” Kim asked, but there was a hint of a smile in his voice when he spoke. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have a quick look.”
Harry knew better than to take Kim’s words at face value. Even when he pretended to be going along with Harry to humor him, he always enjoyed the hell out of the places that Harry dragged him to.
A bell above the door clanked dully as they walked in. “It smells of rat droppings in here,” Kim muttered under his breath. It also smelled like warm dust and old books. There didn’t appear to be anyone else in the shop.
The books on the shelves were almost as faded as the ones in the window. Their titles were things like ‘A Practical Guide to Finding Your Vision Beast,’ ‘Secrets of the Ancients: How the Wisdom of the Past can Push Back the Pale,’ and ‘Mindful Activation of the Pale Meridians Through Photon Emission Channeling’. The shop, narrow as it was, had shelves that towered to either side of them. Books stacked high in precarious piles that threatened to slide down on their heads at any moment.
They walked through the shelves, and emerged as if exiting a maze, at the center of the shop. There was a counter there, with an old-fashioned register and display racks of small books and novelty items.
There was a rustle, and abruptly, a head popped up from behind the counter. The man was small, with a certain pointy aspect to his features. A particular rodent-like aspect. He’s probably the one shitting the place up, one of the voices in his head snickered.
“Ah, customers!” the man said, as if he was surprised to see any in his store at all. “Please, look around, make yourselves at home.”
Harry’s eyes were drawn to a tall glass cabinet. Inside were a variety of strange objects. An shimmering sphere that seemed like it shivered a little in the corner of his vision, but not when he looked directly at it. Dice, like the ones the novelty dice-maker sold, embedded with strange bones and plants. Carvings of animals from strange lands.
Below the cabinet was a box marked DISCOUNT.
“Kim. Something about that box is calling to me.”
“Is it the fact that the things in it are cheap?”
“No! It’s more than that. Alright, well maybe it’s partially that.” Harry squatted to paw through the box. There were lots of old toys in there, many from before the revolution. The box also contained bent postcards, old photos, and a single shoe that had lost its mate.
Under here. Dig through. Faintly, from the bottom of the box, a tiny voice seemed to be calling out to Harry. The toys clinked and rattled as he shoved his hand all the way down to the bottom. A sharp edge pricked his hand, and then he found it. The one that had called out to him.
Harry picked it up. The figurine was a man, dressed in old fashioned clothing and holding a sword, about to step through a doorway. The frame of the doorway twisted back on itself in a curious way that made it hard for Harry’s eyes to follow its outline.
“What’s that?” Kim said, looking over his shoulder. “A Franconigerian knight knock-off? Strange outfit.”
Not me, the knight whispered to Harry. Look deeper.
Harry pushed his paw back into the box. The knight had been resting on top of a small metallic blocky thing, slightly smaller than a pack of cigarettes.
Harry picked it up. It felt dense in his hand, as if it was packed full of solid material that was heavier than the size should allow for. It was completely covered in dust with a smattering of a substance that looked suspiciously like someone’s spilled coffee, heavy on the cream. But when Harry rubbed at the coating with his thumb it came away. Beneath the grime he found shiny, brushed aluminum and lustrous black plastic.
It had a dial and buttons, all of them labeled in an unknown language. Harry had no idea what alphabet it was written in. (But to be fair, he was only familiar with one alphabet.) The dial looked like a standard radio dial. But Harry couldn’t see any of the common frequencies that were used in Revachol.
“Ah yes. That’s a very nice item,” the shopkeeper said. “An import from Graad. Hard to find over here.”
“But what is it?” Harry asked.
“It’s a pocket-sized interisolary radio.”
Kim cleared his throat. “An interisolary radio?”
“How do you turn it on?” Harry passed the radio to the shopkeeper who fiddled with some buttons and tapped it on the counter. In his peripheral vision, he could see Kim shaking his head.
“Battery must be dead. Let me see…” he stooped to rummage through a box on the floor.
“Harry,” Kim hissed in his ear, “There is no way that is an interisolary radio. It would have to be much bigger than that. That thing there, it doesn’t even have an antenna.”
“They’ve been doing some interesting things with micro-circuitry over in Graad these days,” said the shopkeeper, emerging from behind the counter. “You don’t even need an antenna with this kind of radio. I’d like to show you, but I don’t seem to have any batteries on hand at the moment.”
Kim shot Harry a pointed look.
“If you want it, I can give it to you for 5 rèal. A deal just for you, because of the batteries.”
Harry popped open the compartment on the back.
“See?” Kim said, “That is a compartment for a watch battery. There is no way an interisolary radio could run off such low power. At best, this radio will pick up only the local stations.”
“Tech is getting good in Graad these days,” the shopkeeper shrugged, unfazed by Kim’s skepticism. “You want it or not? It’s getting late and I need to close up soon.”
“A watch battery is good, Kim,” Harry said. “Means we can pick one up at the Frittte.” He passed the shopkeeper a 5 rèal note despite Kim’s exaggerated sigh.
“It’s only a day’s tare collecting. Well, two days max,” Harry told him.
Kim half-made a sour face as if he’d prefer than an RCM officer not mention collecting tare, but since it was the weekend and they were both out of uniform, maybe it wasn’t such a big deal.
Harry had gotten very good at reading Kim.
“You just overpaid for an untested, secondhand radio that someone has spilled coffee on. There is no way that little gadget is what he said it is,” Kim said once they were out in the fresh air. “You do know that, right?”
“Of course I know that, Kim,” Harry said. He knew this kind of reminder was how Kim showed that he cared. He kept Harry grounded. Even though a secret voice whispered inside’s Harry’s head about how Kim’s opinions about his purchase were particularly incorrect. “But you have to admit, it’s pretty cool. Even if it only gets the local stations, I won’t mind that much.” Harry held it up to catch the sunlight on the metallic case. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”
“I have not,” Kim said. He seemed uninterested in inspecting the micro-radio. “Now, what would you like to make for dinner?”
With only a little regret, Harry slipped it into his trousers pocket, and they walked to Frittte to buy a battery and then to the Central Jamrock Market to pick up ingredients for dinner.
—
After the events of Martinaise, Kim had transferred to the 41st Precinct, and become Harry’s partner. His cop partner. Not his romantic partner, despite what everyone around them seemed to think, and despite what Harry secretly or not so secretly wished.
It wasn’t as if Harry subtle about his interest. He knew Kim knew. He also knew that Kim was of the opinion that Harry wasn’t ready. At least, that was what his voices had told him. They were a little vague on what being ready might mean, or how Harry might go about getting there – ready for a relationship with Kim? Ready for full acceptance into the homo-sexual underground? It was all very unclear.
Kim did frequently ask about how Harry’s forays into dating men were going. Kim was the one who had encouraged him to try it out, to see if it was really something he was interested in. Kim’s own dating life, however, was a completely closed book. He was utterly impervious to Harry’s usual can-opener techniques in that area. So, Kim got to hear about Harry’s first, second, and third times being with a man, and Harry got to hear about… absolutely nothing at all.
With all of Harry’s hinting that he wished he and Kim could be the other type of partners, Kim had had made it clear that they would maintain their professional relationship, not to exceed the bounds of a workplace friendship. That was what he said anyway. How he acted, well… they frequently spent their days off together, and would plan out evenings to play board games together or cook something. It all seemed suspiciously like dating to Harry. Even after the memory loss he was pretty sure he knew what dating was, even if there was a distinct lack of kissing and sex in this pseudo-dating arrangement.
He’s *interested,* Empathy frequently whispered to him, But he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. Your tenuous newfound sobriety, your life back at the Precinct, trying to get back on your feet again – he would hate to destabilize any of if you entered into a relationship and it didn’t go well.
It was frustrating. Especially how it had been going on for an entire year. Harry tried to distract himself with dating men. It was a pretty good distraction, all told. He discovered that his suspicions about liking dick were correct. To Harry’s delight, it had turned out that having sex with a man was great. Way better than he would have expected, especially given the fact that he briefly forgot that homo-sexuality was even a thing that could exist in the world.
But even with the distractions, he still felt that there was something missing from his life. Something distinctly Kim-shaped. Something that would involve the two of them ending up in bed after a board game night rather than returning to their respective apartments.
After his transfer had gone through, Kim had moved to Central Jamrock, only a few blocks away from Harry and Precinct 41. Kim’s apartment was small, but neat and tidy, with a place for everything. Harry’s was similarly small, but rarely neat and tidy, which was why Kim preferred to have Harry over to his rather than the other way around.
As soon as they arrived at Kim’s apartment, Harry put the battery into the radio and flicked the tiny on switch. A high pitched squeal pierced the air. Harry fiddled around with the dial for a bit and was eventually able to get a few stations to come in relatively clearly. One of them was reporting the time for high tide on the coast. Another was discussing the outcome of a high school track and field event in Grand Couron. All the speakers had distinctly Revacholian accents.
“Go ahead and say it” Harry said without looking up.
“Say what?” Kim was hovering behind his shoulder exuding a distinct air of smugness.
“Say ‘I told you so.’ I can tell you want to.”
“All I will say is, you’re lucky it even turns on. At least your purchase was not a total rip-off.”
He’s being kind, you know. That purchase was a cut-and-dry case of being ripped off, one of his voices whispered. THE CASE OF THE GULLIBLE DETECTIVE, another suggested. Harry dismissed them both to the back of his head where they couldn’t do any more harm with their smart-ass and clearly incorrect commentary.
“You’re goddamn right it wasn’t a rip-off! A rare working Graadian radio like this, I bet I can sell it to a specialty electronics shop for way more than 5 rèal. Way more.” Harry flicked the radio off and squeezed it in his jeans pocket. It was a tight fit, because these were his ass-empasizing jeans. He’d chosen his Pour L’Homme Labourer jeans for the not-date occasion, along with his best mesh tank-top and Fuck The World jacket. He’d selected his cryptid bolo tie as well, judging his other neckwear slightly too garish for the rest of the outfit. Although Kim gave no external sign of appreciating Harry’s sartorial choices, Harry was pretty sure he was making an impression. At the very least, his ass looked the best in these jeans and at the end of the day, that was what mattered. He’d even seen Kim sneaking a glance or two when he thought Harry wasn’t looking.
After dinner, Kim and Harry played an intense round of Suzeranity where, as usual, Kim trounced Harry neatly. Harry was still waiting for the day when he would finally internalize his Suzeranity Champ thought project, but it wasn’t looking good so far. Towards the end of the evening, Harry looked at the clock and realized it was late and that he probably shouldn’t outstay his welcome. He excused himself to the bathroom in preparation to leave.
As he relieved himself, behind the sound of his stream hitting the toilet bowl, he became aware of a high pitched buzzing sound, like a swarm of miniature bees trapped in the bathroom with him. A slight vibration next to his dick. His jeans pocket. That was where it was coming from. When Harry reached in and pulled it out, the radio felt warm to the touch. It was vibrating slightly too. Odd. He flicked the switch, but the humming and buzzing continued.
“What the…” At a loss, Harry flipped a few switches back and forth. The radio began to vibrate more strongly. There was a sudden crackle of electricity. A tiny spark of light. It was like being stung by an insect. Surprised, Harry opened his hand and it fell to the floor. The radio began to spark rhythmically, electricity snapping across its surface. One of Harry’s voices piped up that this particular pattern of arcing electricity was indicative of a high-voltage alternating current, not the low-voltage direct current that presumably powered a battery-operated device such as that radio, but Harry shushed it. He knew the supra-natural when he saw it.
The electric sparking increased in speed, there was a flash that nearly blinded him, and when he could see again, he saw that there was a hole in reality, right in the middle of Kim’s bathroom.
“Kim!” Harry shouted, but something about his voice felt muffled, compressed down into nothing, like when he’d stood inside the strange Pale silence in the Church. He sensed that even though Kim was only one room away, there was no way he’d hear Harry’s shouts. That his voice was trapped inside the room.
Harry peered through hole in reality and saw somewhere that looked naggingly familiar. The hole opened onto a landscape as seen from above. Scrubby plants, leaves not yet budded. Pieces of trash blowing around. Bottles on the ground. Melting piles of snow. The muddy slush of early spring.
Harry shouted again for Kim, but heard nothing. He barely heard his own voice.
He knew that place on the other side of the hole. He knew he did. It was just that he’d never seen it from this angle before. Far away down on the ground, three figures sat. In a moment he realized it was Doom Spiral and the other Martinaise drunks. It was like he was seeing them from a low-flying aerostatic. The aerostatic seemed to be moving closer too, because the figures were getting bigger. Curious, Harry leaned forward to get a better look.
A loud rushing sound filled his ears, like a thousand storms, the volume increasing until it was the only thing he could hear. He tried to clap his hand over his ears, but a force pulled at him. He raised a foot to take an unsteady step backwards, but unbalanced, the force pulled at him again, stronger this time, sucking at him until he tumbled straight through the hole in the air.
It happened so fast Harry barely had any time to panic. One moment he was in Kim’s bathroom, and the next, he was falling, tumbling through the cold and dangerously disorienting air, with the ground coming up alarmingly quickly. And then, suddenly and painfully, it was all over.
“Ow! What the fuck, man!”
Harry looked around. He was sprawled in the lap of none other than Idiot Doom Spiral.