Next time (Sewers to Stars fic)
@theherocomplex also requested “Kasumi pining for Leo.” It came with a side of other feels.
Once she gets back to Crucible Station, Kasumi lets the cargo handlers deal with the beacon loaded onto her ship (”Handle with care, boys!” she calls out cheerfully) and saunters through the corridors to the director’s office.
Technically, Kahlee Sanders isn’t Kasumi’s boss, exactly. Kasumi’s more of a freelance operative, since even now the Alliance doesn’t always want to know the details of how she acquires what they ask for. But Kahlee’s still leading the Crucible project, which makes her the closest thing to a boss Kasumi has.
“That was fast,” Kahlee says with a smile. “Safe trip, I hope?”
Kasumi shrugs and perches on a corner of Kahlee’s oversized desk. The desk is always tidy, which Kasumi finds a little unnatural, so she enjoys parking herself on it. “Safe as anything involving infiltrating Reaper space can be!”
Kahlee’s mouth turned down. “Oh, yes. Earth, wasn’t it? My briefing on this object was a little sketchy.”
“Earth,” Kasumi confirms. “Stealth drive was nice and slick, though.”
Kahlee nods and carefully squares up a stack of datapads on the desktop. “Where on Earth were you?”
“Not London,” Kasumi says, gently. “New York City.”
Kahlee nods again. “Did you hear anything from… London?”
“Nope.” Kasumi tries to play it casual, even though she knows why Kahlee’s asking. “Planetary communication’s tricky. Most of the resistance groups are pretty isolated.” She doesn’t enjoy thinking about that herself, so she adds, a little too fast, “You probably get word from London faster here through QEC.”
“They’ve got more important things to do than check in with me,” Kahlee says dismissively. Where by they, she means he, and he is Admiral David Anderson. “I’m sure you’re right, though.”
Kasumi hums in assent. The silence hangs awkwardly for a moment. Normally Kasumi is good with silence, or good at breaking silence with something amusing. Today, there’s a weight that’s been hanging at the back of her mind since she left Earth, and she finds herself coming out with, “How do you do it?”
Kahlee looks up, those light blue eyes catching the light. “Do what?”
Kasumi shrugs and looks away, reaches out and taps a stylus with one finger, sending it rolling across the desk. “You know. How do you…” She trails off, searching for the right word.
“Wait?” Kahlee suggests. “How do I deal with not knowing?”
Kasumi shrugs again, and then nods, just once. She persistently looks at the desk and its overly tidy arrangement of datapads while she waits for an answer, feeling as if she’s bared too much already.
There’s quiet for almost a full minute before Kahlee replies. “I just… do, I suppose. You just have to go on. I try to take everything one day at a time, and fortunately there’s plenty to keep me busy.” She laughs a little. Kasumi chuckles along. She knows that Kahlee’s the first into the office, and she’s seen the office lights on late in the station’s cycle, too. “I don’t have enough time to brood over it, which is probably for the best.” Her voice catches a little bit on the end.
“Mmm,” says Kasumi. She can see how that would help. It almost makes her wish she had one of those boring desk jobs with a never-ending list of things to do, the kind she’s always avoided. Her work has always run differently: long stretches of quiet, contemplation, and planning, interspersed with short bursts of focused activity. She’s like a cat that way. These days, when her work sends her zipping all of the galaxy, she has a lot of time on her own, in her little ship. Usually she reads. On the trip from the Charon relay to Crucible station (three relay bounces and a long in-system trip after that), she turned to her favorite novels, but this time the tales of passion and love and heroics left her restless and fidgety. She’d even tried to pace in the cramped confines of the ship.
Kahlee laughs again. “You know, I think David and I may have spent more of our relationship apart than we’ve spent together? We’ve been friends for a long time, long before we were a couple, but we’ve always had other work, and other responsibilities. I suppose we’re used to it, to an extent. Of course, it’s different now.” Her mouth turns down. “The war makes things different. And yet.” She sighs and shakes her head. “I do my share of worrying, but in the end, you just have to keep going. Right now, Earth needs him more than I do, and the Crucible project needs me more than he does. We each have our part to play. We’ve said what we need to say to each other. That helps, too.”
Kasumi can feel her smile grow strained. Oh. There’s the issue, isn’t it? Saying what needs to be said.
And she hadn’t, precisely, said, had she? She’d hinted and teased and danced around it, like she always did. Keiji had had a way of seeing through her and cutting to the heart of the matter. If he hadn’t, they might have simply chased each other around forever. She can just imagine Keiji now, as if he were standing behind her shoulder, chuckling at her, and he might say, What are you waiting for? or You play games too long, Kasumi, you need to make your move.
You might have said something earlier, she thinks at the imaginary-Keiji behind her shoulder. But he hadn’t, and she hadn’t. Hadn’t said what she should have said, and instead she’d left mute paper, poetry and pictures.
“Kasumi? Is there someone you’re worried about?”
“Nope,” she says brightly. Kahlee’s looking at her quizzically, and she thinks of deeper blue eyes. “You know me, I’m free as a bird.” She pushes herself off the desk and manufactures a better smile. “I’ll let you get back to work, boss.”
As she leaves the office, her fingers drop to the pouch at her belt and the delicate paper rose inside. A token, some mute promise of his.
The next time—if there’s a next time—she’ll find her voice, and say her words plainly.
