Kim and Harry made their way down to the Kineema parked outside.
"I can walk home. It's not that far," said Harry.
"I don't mind driving," said Kim, pulling out his keys.
INTERFACING:Driving calms him down. The smell of the cabin, the sound of the motor. The precise, well-oiled slide of the steering levers as he rounds a corner.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT:He's in that state where he's exhausted, but too wound up to sleep. He needs to do something physical to calm down.
HALF-LIGHT:But also, he wants to make sure you don't piss away everything at the nearest liquor store. If he even believes you're not already drunk.
"Okay. Thanks," said Harry, climbing into the passenger seat.
They rode in silence, Kim navigating the streets with practiced ease. Harry leaned against the door, his limbs too heavy to lift, the pit in his chest expanding, making it hard to breathe.
HALF-LIGHT:God, do you even know how close you came tonight to shitting the bed? Not just the bed, the whole house. The whole city, tracking your fucking diarrhea shitstains through the streets, you massive piece of shit. I know you don't remember what happened the last time you got drunk, but, here, let me pull in an expert to refresh your memory–
ENCYCLOPEDIA:Based on what we've pieced together, last time you got drunk, you
1. Delayed an investigation for three days.
2. Severely damaged your relationship with Jean and Judit and the rest of precinct 41.
3. Repeatedly threatened to kill yourself in front of multiple people.
4. Pawned your gun. Which you were coerced into becoming an enforcer for Evrart Claire in order to retrieve.
5. Crashed your car (a piece of equipment worth 40,000 real) (also containing your badge and uniform) into the sea. This was likely a suicide attempt.
6. Made a woman so uncomfortable she quit her job.
7. Destroyed your hotel room. Garte had to clean it up.
8. Embarrassed both yourself and the RCM with your activities around Martinaise.
9. Obliterated your memory of everything that happened before March '51.
HALF-LIGHT:Yeah, thatdefinitelysounds like the behavior of someone who should be looking after children. What was the plan - were you going to burst into the kids' room and start threatening to shoot yourself in the head?
EMPATHY:No, please, not in front of the kids. Not in front of Olive.
Harry curled an arm around his unpleasantly soft belly, gripping a handful of his shirt in his fist. His stomach gurgled. Somewhere inside, half-digested spaghetti was turning to shit. Disgusting.
HALF-LIGHT:Or maybe just throw a tantrum and wreck the apartment? Break the windows, piss on the carpet, rip up the paintings?
VOLITION:Stop it. This isn't helping.
ELECTROCHEMISTRY:Whatwouldhelp is digging that bottle out after Kim drops us off.
HALF-LIGHT:This is what I'm talking about. It's going to happen. You'll have a bad day. Or maybe a good day. Or maybe it'll be just a random bottle you find in the street. You'll bring it to your lips and everything will fall apart.
Harry dropped his face into his hand. Breathing was such hard work
PERCEPTION:Kim's pulling the car over.
ESPRIT DE CORPS:He's worried about you. You've been sitting there silent for ten full minutes, slowly curling in on yourself. He's been glancing over, hoping you'll open up on your own. He's more comfortable listening than he is trying to get you to talk.
COMPOSURE:No way. He doesn't need all of that garbage. Sit up. Don't look so sad.
ENDURANCE:No. You're too tired. It hurts too much.
The Kineema slid to a stop, smooth as glass. Harry heard the engine cut out. Based on the rustling coming from Kim's direction, he was turning in his seat to face Harry. Harry didn't move. His whole body felt weighed down, ossified. He felt like he was using most of his energy to just sit and breathe.
"Hey. Hey."
Harry felt Kim's hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to start sobbing at the touch.
"Harry? What's going on?"
ESPRIT DE CORPS:You're scaring him, now. He's afraid you might be having a stroke or something.
With a massive effort, Harry sat up, facing forward. He could see Kim's concerned expression out of the corner of his eye. It was too much, too intense, to look at him directly.
"I'm okay," Harry said heavily. "I just–" Tears spilled down both his cheeks. He pinched the bridge of his nose."Fuck."
"Did something happen?" Kim asked softly.
Harry shook his head. "Not really. It's more about…what might have happened. Or what could happen." He rubbed his forehead, frustrated. "It's hard to explain." His chest ached with shame, dread, sorrow. He felt too full, too overwhelmed. Holding on to all this feeling hurt. But when he reached for the words to release some of it, nothing came.
Kim's brow furrowed. He put a hand on one of the steering levers, fidgeting with it.
EMPATHY:He's familiar with this feeling. There have been—and still are—many, many thoughts he's tried and failed to express.
ESPRIT DE CORPS:He's wracking his brain, trying to think of some way to help you.
"Why don't we take a drive?" Kim said after a moment. "Head up the motorway?"
ESPRIT DE CORPS:The motion of the vehicle, the soft purr of the engine. If a case is too much, or he can't sleep, taking a drive shakes things loose in his mind, or helps him get his thoughts in order.
EMPATHY:Driving makes it easier for him to open up, too. Maybe it's the half-dark cabin, or having something to do with his hands, or just having part of his brain occupied so he doesn't fall into overthinking.
"Yeah. Okay," said Harry.