veryroundbirdfics | Arknights | Hand in Unlovable Hand, Chapter 2

Rating: Spicy
Chapter: 2/28
Characters: Doctor (F), Kal'tsit, Amiya, various others
Relationships: Doctor/Kal'tsit, Kal'tsit/Theresa, Theresa/Doctor
Summary: Dr. Lau returns to Rhodes Island a stranger in a strange land, in a labyrinth of things that feel like they should be familiar but aren't—and at the center is Dr. Kal'tsit and all the things she's not saying. Even if amnesia's changed her, though, the Doctor wouldn't be the Doctor if she didn't have an impulse to solve for the missing variable.
Notes: while this fic is marked as "spicy" the only actual sexual content is in chapters 8, 9, 17, 23 and 27, and there's cliff notes for the scenes at the bottom of the chapter. sexual content is noted in the start of chapters where it appears.

“All right, let’s get you out of those hospital gowns—” Closure rubs her hands together, ignoring the slight look of consternation on your face¹, and hands you the tablet with the inventory selections.

“Here’s what we can get ahead of scheduled docking. And if you want something really good for date night with Dr. Kal’tsit² and all those Lungmen officials, check the special occasions filter.”

You do not check the special occasions filter, mouth pressing into a thin, thoughtful line as you swipe through the pages. In the end you end up with a pretty simple wardrobe—dark slacks, a variety of scoop-necked shirts and button-downs, a knee-length grey skirt. Closure makes a little “mm-hmm” noise whenever you pick something out,³ tail swishing over the counter gently.

Hm. “Is there anything else you think I should have?” you ask, glancing sideways at her.

She raises her eyebrows. “Let’s seeeeeee…” she says, and plucks the tablet from your hands to look at your list.⁴ “Hm. Well, I think this’ll be fine, although—you should probably get something with a high neck.”⁵

You consider this,⁶ and then tap a finger to your collarbone on the right side. “This is going to alarm some people, isn’t it.”

“Lungmen’s Infected are in kind of a precarious position,” she says, handing the tablet back to you and picking her engineering magazine up again.⁷ “You’re not going to see Infected outside of the slums except for whoever’s with us—but it’s up to you, Doc.”⁸

After mulling it over, you add a few more turtlenecks and a sweater dress to your order; you’ve got a couple more days to think it over, after all.

[1] You’re really having a hard time with innuendo. You can never tell if you’re imagining it or if it’s actually happening and Closure in particular seems to delight in the fact that she knows you can’t tell.

[2] To your credit, you do not fluster here but rather just sigh inwardly. Also, you cannot even imagine that woman on a date.

[3] She’s trying to look like she’s not paying attention to what you’re picking out—but she definitely is, which is, once again, a little nerve-wracking, from one of the people who knew you. Are you measuring up? How many of your choices are baked into your DNA? How many belong to the person you are now?
That or maybe she's just judging your incredibly boring taste in fashion. It could also be that.

[4] Closure does a pretty good job of covering that she already knows, at least.

[5] Ah. There’s your answer; you are doing something unexpected, here.

[6] It takes you a moment to think through the why. Cultural sense of modesty that you’ve lost? No, that doesn’t feel right, though—no, you didn’t want other people to see your Oripathy, did you?
It’s funny. It hadn’t occurred to you at all to do so. After all, why would you?

[7] Advanced Mechanics Winter issue, Dr. Mayer of Rhine Lab on the cover.

[8] Cold weather-wear would be practical, anyway. But—
Actually, what bothers you isn’t your Oripathy, you realize. After all, if you’re a representative of Rhodes Island—of the people who rescued you, those brave and bold—something about setting yourself apart from them feels wrong.
It’s the least you can do.

It’s a few days later when you finally meet Kal’tsit in the flesh, already waiting for you and Amiya in Wei Yenwu’s office, and you immediately feel yourself starting to have a panic attack.⁹

“Dr. Kal’tsit!” says Amiya, brightly, striding over, and you follow, letting her take point.

Kal’tsit nods to her. “Amiya,” she says, and there’s a slight hint of a smile—which fades quickly, as she looks up at you, giving you a brief once-over inspection.¹⁰ “Dr. Lau. So you’ve come.”

You have no idea what to say,¹¹ and thankfully it’s at that point that L.G.D. Superintendent Ch’en clears her throat, irritably, and cuts in.¹² “Chief Wei, the other two representatives of Rhodes Island have arrived.”

“Ah, excellent,” says the Chief of Lungmen, smoothly taking a seat behind his carved mahogany desk. “Please, all of you—take a seat. Dr. Kal’tsit has been explaining the situation to me.”

“Allow me to continue, then,” says Kal’tsit, and does.¹³ Again, it’s a meeting that requires very little from you apart from your presence; you can comfortably sit and take in the information for your own needs.

When the information overlaps with what you already know, you find yourself studying the others in this meeting—the way the Superintendent keeps her arms crossed¹⁴ but still angles her body toward the Chief¹⁵ and the glances that pass between them; the way Amiya worries at her lower lip whenever the leader of Reunion comes up¹⁶; the singular, practiced focus with which Kal’tsit speaks while managing to keep an eye on everything going on.

In the end, the deal is struck, hands are shaken; your contingent retires to the reception area to regroup, with a warning from Chief Wei that the Infected are prohibited from free movement around the city¹⁷, and to defer to the L.G.D. when carrying out orders. Amiya waits until you’re all safely out of earshot to clap her hands against her face, screwing her eyes closed.¹⁸

“Ah, he was so difficult—it’s like he can’t be swayed by anything—“

Kal’tsit inclines her head to her. “Amiya, you’ll eventually have to learn how to deal with these people yourself. But in the end—you did a great job.”¹⁹

Amiya brightens immediately, already recovered, but Kal’tsit is turning to you—eyes doing a quick skim again over your bare collarbones²⁰, and the black streaks of Oripathy lesions that climb vertically toward your neck and vanish under your monitor band—eyes narrowing very slightly.

“By the way—“ she begins. “You—“

You roll your shoulders, slightly, and shove your hands in your pockets. Deep breath.²¹ “…Hello, Dr. Kal’tsit.”

She studies you, mouth drawn into a thin line, and Amiya looks up at her, frowning. “Dr. Kal’tsit, please don’t give Dr. Lau a hard time—”²²

Kal’tsit inhales sharply²³, and doesn’t speak for a moment. Then: “Hah. I hope our sacrifices… weren’t in vain.” A very small, rueful shake of her head. “Hello, Dr. Lau. And—welcome back.”

You run a hand backwards through your hair and crest feathers, trying in vain to smooth them down.²⁴ “Me too,” you say, with a small incline of your head and a tight smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. You almost go for the bottle of pills and the small water flask in the pocket of your jacket,²⁵ but instead your hand closes on the packet of cigs that you convinced Closure to get you in exchange for a future favor.

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” you say, and nod to both of them. “Back in less than ten.”

And with that, you head out toward the nearest public balcony to try and get some quality time with your very slow-motion nervous breakdown.

[9] You hate this! It’s so inconvenient! And you can’t even take your emergency meds in a meeting with a government official without it being weird!

[10] Her gaze lingers on your open neckline, noting what you’re quite sure now is a change. You can’t tell at all if she approves or not, though, or merely takes it as a point of interest.

[11] This happens a lot. You’re really going to have to practice on whatever willing victims you can find on the landship when you next get the chance, since it seems like you have been cursed to have plentiful meetings for the rest of your life. This probably indicates a litany of past sins.

[12] She’s made a big show of being distrustful, and not particularly wanting any of you here—which is all true. The Superintendent is a straightforward sort of woman. But there’s a hint of nervous energy under the façade that you wonder about.

[13] Thank fuck no one asked you to talk.

[14] The Superintendent is the sort of person who probably feels more secure in taking care of things herself; Rhodes Island’s presence here is the kind of thing that gets her antsy. Strangers in her house touching her things.

[15] Ch’en and Chief Wei clearly have a long history, though, the way they seem natural around each other—as if they have to pull deliberately back from familiarity.

[16] Amiya isn’t the only one having a moment about this; both Superintendent Ch’en and Chief Wei have a notable reaction to the name “Talulah,” even though Wei clearly tries to play it off like he’s never heard the name before. They know something, but whatever it is—it’s a shared secret they’re not telling.

[17] Not that you’re surprised, but ugh, of course. At least you can zip up your jacket.

[18] For once, she seems as young as she looks—it’s a little jarring, somehow.

[19] Watching her, even though she doesn’t emote much—Kal’tsit loves this girl. Like a daughter, even—you wouldn’t have thought she was the kind of person to have a fondness for children, but it seems like she does have a bit of a maternal streak. She’s just as stern and just as gentle as she needs to be.

[20] Well, it’s a reaction, which you’re discovering you find strangely gratifying to get from her, but the attention like that… makes you feel strangely vulnerable.

[21] Ah, the heart palpitations.

[22] Oh bless her but ha ha ha fat chance.

[23] It’s not the scalpel-like way she wields her regard, but rather—the sharp, iron-tinged tang of grief you read into that, the kind that draws your breath short with a kind of sympathetic sadness.
But you’re never going to be able to do anything to help with that, are you.

[24] Your crest feathers have been absolutely terrible. You even made extra effort today to look a bit more polished and they still just stick straight up like you’re on high alert. It may be appropriate, but you’d prefer not to wear your anxiety disorder on your sleeve quite that much.

[25] Other problems with the emergency meds: great in theory but unfortunately “side effect: you might just pass out when combined with your Liberi biology” is not great for getting any use out of them while being on an important deployment.

It surprises you very little to hear the click, click of low-heeled boots on wood coming up behind you; you don’t even need to turn to know who it is.

“You don’t smoke,” says Kal’tsit, without preamble. “And you’re on a fitness plan. Give those to me.”²⁶

You take another deeply inelegant, mildly disgusted drag,²⁷ and tap the cigarette against the railing. “I smoke as of two days ago when that nice security officer for the medical wing let me bum one. Keep up.”

She knows better than to say “those things will kill you,” at least; if anything’s going to kill you, it’ll be the Oripathy, and you both know it. Instead she just sighs. “I’m going to have to have a word with Closure. And Saria.”

“I asked. Just put it on me. Circumstances being what they are, I’m not going to risk being less than alert.”

Her gaze flicks sideways at you,²⁸ and then out across the city of Lungmen and its neon-hued sunset.²⁹ “Just don’t worry Amiya. She won’t like it.”

You huff a little exhale of a laugh, which halfway turns into a light cough. “I won’t, I promise. She’d scold me and she’d be right.”

There’s a long silence that can’t remotely be called companionable,³⁰ and then she pushes back from the railing to head back inside. “Five minutes, then we move.”

“Thanks,” you say, and once she’s gone, you let out a deep breath.³¹

[26] Maybe there’s a little thrill in getting her to actually care about what you do. Not enough that you’d do it for that alone—it takes a little bit of the edge off in a way you could use right now, as bad as it is for you.

[27] When are all these other coping habits you’re supposed to have going to kick in? Because this one is fucking awful.

[28] You’re pretty sure she noticed, too—that little exchange of glances between the Chief and the Superintendent, over Talulah. That there’s something in the tangled web of Lungmen that they’re hiding.
It’s a small thing, but it’s a little nice to know that for some things like that—you don’t really have to explain it out, at least if you’re talking to her. The one comforting thing about her.

[29] It’s pretty. Your file—the parts that aren’t somehow classified to you, the person the file is about—mention that you lived here, once; you wonder how you felt about it, then. It doesn’t feel like home, but it might have been nice to call it that.
Of course, it was almost certainly before you contracted Oripathy.

[30] If anything, it’s the negative space of companionability, if there is such a thing. You’re certainly feeling it now.

[31] It’s easier to breathe, once she’s gone.
...And yet, part of you wishes she’d come back.