Secret Santa for wickedtrue
This is my Secret Santa gift for wickedtrue, who, in one of her prompts, asked for anything involving Kolyat. I just couldn't resist that one. Kolyat just doesn't get enough love. Merry Christmas, wickedtrue! :-D
Title: Auld Lang Syne
Characters/Pairings: Kolyat, Bailey
Rating: T (though a very mild one at that - there a just a couple of minor swear words)
Notes: SO MANY THANKS to jessieheart for being my beta and guinea pig.
Kolyat was running late.
The alarm that signaled the official start of his "work day" went off, his omni-tool tingling against his wrist. He bit back a curse and put his head down, pushing on with another burst of speed. If he hurried, if he was lucky, if he slipped into the C-Sec offices within the next few minutes, he knew Bailey would look the other way. He rounded the corner of the Zakera Ward stairwell, blew past Zakera Cafe, and stopped short.
There was a string of multi-colored lights stretched across C-Sec's main doorway. Those hadn't been there yesterday.
Even from here, he could clearly see Bailey's desk and Bailey obviously wasn't disturbed by the lights. Quite the opposite, it appeared, in fact. For on his desk, Bailey had a little tree (if it could even be called that - it couldn't have been more than a foot tall - it was more of a potted plant, really), festooned with little cheerfully colored lights that matched those stretching across C-Sec's threshold, blinking in a lazy, whimsical pattern.
Kolyat stood, dumbstruck, for a moment, watching the pattern start from the beginning - red, blue yellow, green, orange all blinking slowly as they progressed to the top of the little tree, and then the lone, tiny purple light that sat nestled against the trunk (no, not trunk - stem) flickering valiantly as it battled against some flaw in the sequence's programming, or possibly the circuitry, before the little speck of a star balanced precariously at the plant-tree's top burst into brilliant light, flashing and spinning (and he was surprised it didn't sing, too, at this rate), and then extinguished, and the whole thing started all over again.
Slowly, Kolyat proceeded. There were the same number of people bustling in and out through the wide arch of a door, the same officers at the same stations, but everything felt different (leaving aside the oddly placed lights). Lighter. The gallows humor wasn't running as thick as it normally did, and there was just a touch more laughter than was usual.
As Kolyat approached Bailey's desk, Bailey made to set a datapad aside in the usual place he reserved for completed incident reports, but apparently having forgetten the deskplant was monopolizing that particular corner of his desk, only ended up rapping his knuckles on the planter. Bailey winced, and then set the datapad halfway between the deskplant and his terminal in compromise. He gently pushed an encroaching branch out of his way with the backs of his fingers, affording the deskplant a mild, lopsided grin that was a little soft around the edges.
He looked up at Kolyat, the corner of his mouth lifting in that same hint of a grin that he had just favored upon his plant. "You look a little shell-shocked, son. Something on your mind?"
What is that thing, why is it on your desk, and why is it blinking at me?
"No, sir," Kolyat responded. "Nothing, sir. Just wondering what you have for me today."
Instead of answering, Bailey leaned over and reached for a pile of datapads on the far side of his desk. He slid the first two off the top, letting them clatter across his desk, and slowly picked up the third. Kolyat watched as he tapped his thumb against it, the orange glow suffusing Bailey's face from below even as the lights from his little plant continued to send multi-colored flashes splashing across his cheek. Bailey frowned down at the datapad, tapping it with this thumb again, absently this time.
"You been talking to your old man?" Bailey asked, not looking up from the datapad.
Whatever he'd been expecting, it certainly hadn't been that, and he found he could only blink in response.
"No," Kolyat finally said, keeping his voice and expression carefully neutral. "I haven't been."
"You see that changing any time soon?" Bailey asked his desk.
There were a great number of things he would do for Bailey without a moment's hesitation. Talking about Thane, however, was not one of those things. It wasn't any of his business. It was hardly even Thane's business.
"I don't have any reason to assume it will, no," he answered flatly.
The corner of Bailey's jaw twitched and his brow furrowed for a flash of a moment. Most people probably would have missed it. But Kolyat wasn't that lucky. Damn drell memory. Just that brief glimpse of whatever-it-was crossing Bailey's face was enough to make Kolyat cringe.
"Look," Kolyat said, being careful to take any of the heat out of it (because none of this was Bailey's fault, and he knew that, no matter how easy it was to take his frustrations out on him). "It's just...it's complicated, okay?"
Bailey snorted.
"Yeah," he heard Bailey mutter. "Nothing's ever easy, is it?"
Kolyat snorted at that himself.
"No," he agreed. "Nothing worth it is, anyway." And then he flinched. It had been out of his mouth before he could stop it. Damn Thane and his quips and his sayings and his logic. He blinked at that. Was he just agreeing that a relationship with Thane might be worth this whatever-it-was? Gods, this was giving him a worse headache than Bailey's blinking deskplant.
Bailey scrubbed a hand over the top of his head, ruffling the short length of his hair before looking up at Kolyat and leaning forward in his chair. He slid the datapad across the desk toward Kolyat with the tips of his fingers. "This came in to the C-Sec office today. Addressed to you."
Kolyat's stomach dropped, and he fought the urge to snatch up the damned datapad and fling it into the nearest incinerator. Leave it to Thane to get in touch via a letter that he couldn't even be bothered to make sure was delivered directly.
In the end, after staring at the orange glow (and damn it all if it wasn't taunting him) for what felt like an eternity, it was for Bailey's sake and Bailey's alone (because Kolyat liked him well enough, really, and the thought of disappointing him needlessly after everything Bailey had done for him made his stomach clench and made the pain blooming behind his temples creep up behind his eyes and graduate to a full-fledged pinpoint-sharp throbbing) that Kolyat finally reached out and picked up the datapad.
He tucked the datapad into the inner breast pocket of his coat, not yet wanting to dare to read it (or listen to it - Gods, what if Thane had recorded his message? And then he would have to actually hear his father saying whatever-it-was about shame or pride or longing or regrets and that just wasn't fair). He didn't make to leave yet, not having truly been given an assignment, and Bailey didn't make to dismiss him, either. Bailey, in fact, turned back to his stack of datapads, straightening them again, sorting them into piles, deleting a few that he'd apparently already dealt with.
After a few moments of (what felt like) painful silence that seemed to stretch interminably, Kolyat finally cleared his throat. Bailey looked up, startled.
"You're still here, kid?"
"Yes, sir. You, uh," Kolyat flinched, embarrassed at having to point out the obvious, "you didn't really give me an assignment."
"Oh. Well. Read that letter," Bailey gestured vaguely in the direction of Kolyat's chest. "Or listen to it. Or whatever. That's your assignment for the day. I'll make up something important-sounding for the paperwork that should cover your ass, and mine, in case the higher-ups get their undergarments in a wad. How about 'Personal growth and self-examination'?"
Kolyat frowned and folded his arms across his chest. "Why does this matter so much to you?" he asked. Bailey made a little noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle.
"Is 'Because it's Christmas' convincing enough?"
Kolyat blinked at that, one of the ridges over his eyes arching as he looked at Bailey. He was sure his translator hadn't malfunctioned, as he'd understood the word, but there was absolutely no context.
"Christmas?" he repeated.
"Only one of the major human holidays," Bailey answered matter-of-factly as if that explained everything. And then (as the silence stretched and he must have realized it had explained absolutely nothing) his brow ridged in that peculiar way Kolyat was learning meant Bailey was utterly confused. "You really haven't heard about Christmas?"
"I've only been on the Citadel for two months. I had never even left Kahje before I came here."
"Oh," Bailey breathed as he sat back in his chair a bit, looking stunned. He waved a hand in the general direction of his blinking deskplant. "It started out as this religious celebration, and then it got co-opted by this other religion, and then it got co-opted by corporations, and then-" Bailey stopped himself short and briefly rubbed a hand across his forehead before leveling a look at Kolyat that Kolyat could only describe as weary. "Look," Bailey continued, "to most people, Christmas is still a time we spend with the people we love."
Kolyat could feel the ridge over his eye arching again. To say he was unimpressed was putting it mildly.
"You want me to forgive Thane because of a human holiday."
"Forgive your old man," Bailey said with a shrug that was a little too sharp to be enitrely believable, "don't forgive him, it's your decision, son. But life's short enough as it is without spending so much of it angry. Not to say I can't understand why you're angry with him. Hell, I'm not even saying I blame you for it. But at least your old man's trying. That's gotta be good for something." There was a little flicker of something Kolyat couldn't quite identify behind Bailey's eyes, but it was enough to make him pause.
He swallowed once, glancing down at his feet. Maybe (as much as Kolyat hated to admit it, because being angry with Thane was familiar at this point, and by all the gods, Thane deserved it) Bailey had a point. Maybe.
Decision made, he puffed out a breath and took a step back from Bailey's desk. Bailey nodded at him, that same small, tight grin stretching across his mouth for a moment.
"I'll see you tomorrow, kid. And be ready. I've got real work waiting for you."
"I'll be here," Kolyat responded, grinning in kind, and offering a jaunty sort of half-salute that actually made Bailey chuckle. As Kolyat walked out of C-Sec and into the riotous lights and noise of Zakera Ward, he took a moment to take the datpad out of his coat.
He turned the datapad over in his hands, examining it, absently weaving his way in and out of the small throngs that gathered in the causeways as he headed for his apartment. He wondered what Thane was playing at, why he would send a letter instead of calling. Why Thane had sent the damned thing to C-Sec of all places - surely Thane knew where he lived. Mouse knew. And Bailey knew, which meant Shepard knew. Which meant Thane had access to the information. So why wouldn't he use it? Did Kolyat even want him to?
Kolyat passed under a flickering sign, the purple light cutting in and out rapidly in the corners of his vision, and he thought of Bailey's little deskplant. He thought of this "Christmas" Bailey had mentioned. How apparently it no longer meant what it once had, but it still meant something to those who cared.
Halfway home, he finally gave in to the temptation. He ducked into a secluded alcove and, after checking that he was well and truly alone, activated the datapad. As a precaution, he routed any sound in the file to his personal earpiece, and then he activated the file.
"Kolyat," Thane's voice unexpectedly rumbled in his ear, making his heart stutter and race and his throat go tight.
His stomach pitted and roiled and his throat burned and he felt utterly boneless. It was exactly how he'd felt upon actually seeing Thane in Talid's apartment for the first time after all those years. He'd thought he was past this, thought he was no longer the little boy clinging to his father's leg (His father, cold and emotionless, eyes flat as the two of them send his mother to the depths. A heavy hand absently pats the top of his head. He looks up. His father isn't crying, doesn't even look sad. How dare he?).
He jerked himself out of the memory and slapped his thumb against the screen again, terminating the playback. He'd thought maybe Thane would have recorded a message instead of just writing it out, but he hadn't really been expecting it. On top of which, Thane's voice had actually sounded strained, hesitant even, and it made Kolyat wince. From anyone else, that wouldn't have been anywhere near enough. But from Thane...
He'd listen to it. But back home. In private.
Bailey was right - Thane was trying. Maybe it would be enough. It certainly wasn't perfect, and it hadn't been what he'd needed as a child, but maybe it could be a start to something different, something new between them. Maybe.
Title: Auld Lang Syne
Characters/Pairings: Kolyat, Bailey
Rating: T (though a very mild one at that - there a just a couple of minor swear words)
Notes: SO MANY THANKS to jessieheart for being my beta and guinea pig.
Kolyat was running late.
The alarm that signaled the official start of his "work day" went off, his omni-tool tingling against his wrist. He bit back a curse and put his head down, pushing on with another burst of speed. If he hurried, if he was lucky, if he slipped into the C-Sec offices within the next few minutes, he knew Bailey would look the other way. He rounded the corner of the Zakera Ward stairwell, blew past Zakera Cafe, and stopped short.
There was a string of multi-colored lights stretched across C-Sec's main doorway. Those hadn't been there yesterday.
Even from here, he could clearly see Bailey's desk and Bailey obviously wasn't disturbed by the lights. Quite the opposite, it appeared, in fact. For on his desk, Bailey had a little tree (if it could even be called that - it couldn't have been more than a foot tall - it was more of a potted plant, really), festooned with little cheerfully colored lights that matched those stretching across C-Sec's threshold, blinking in a lazy, whimsical pattern.
Kolyat stood, dumbstruck, for a moment, watching the pattern start from the beginning - red, blue yellow, green, orange all blinking slowly as they progressed to the top of the little tree, and then the lone, tiny purple light that sat nestled against the trunk (no, not trunk - stem) flickering valiantly as it battled against some flaw in the sequence's programming, or possibly the circuitry, before the little speck of a star balanced precariously at the plant-tree's top burst into brilliant light, flashing and spinning (and he was surprised it didn't sing, too, at this rate), and then extinguished, and the whole thing started all over again.
Slowly, Kolyat proceeded. There were the same number of people bustling in and out through the wide arch of a door, the same officers at the same stations, but everything felt different (leaving aside the oddly placed lights). Lighter. The gallows humor wasn't running as thick as it normally did, and there was just a touch more laughter than was usual.
As Kolyat approached Bailey's desk, Bailey made to set a datapad aside in the usual place he reserved for completed incident reports, but apparently having forgetten the deskplant was monopolizing that particular corner of his desk, only ended up rapping his knuckles on the planter. Bailey winced, and then set the datapad halfway between the deskplant and his terminal in compromise. He gently pushed an encroaching branch out of his way with the backs of his fingers, affording the deskplant a mild, lopsided grin that was a little soft around the edges.
He looked up at Kolyat, the corner of his mouth lifting in that same hint of a grin that he had just favored upon his plant. "You look a little shell-shocked, son. Something on your mind?"
What is that thing, why is it on your desk, and why is it blinking at me?
"No, sir," Kolyat responded. "Nothing, sir. Just wondering what you have for me today."
Instead of answering, Bailey leaned over and reached for a pile of datapads on the far side of his desk. He slid the first two off the top, letting them clatter across his desk, and slowly picked up the third. Kolyat watched as he tapped his thumb against it, the orange glow suffusing Bailey's face from below even as the lights from his little plant continued to send multi-colored flashes splashing across his cheek. Bailey frowned down at the datapad, tapping it with this thumb again, absently this time.
"You been talking to your old man?" Bailey asked, not looking up from the datapad.
Whatever he'd been expecting, it certainly hadn't been that, and he found he could only blink in response.
"No," Kolyat finally said, keeping his voice and expression carefully neutral. "I haven't been."
"You see that changing any time soon?" Bailey asked his desk.
There were a great number of things he would do for Bailey without a moment's hesitation. Talking about Thane, however, was not one of those things. It wasn't any of his business. It was hardly even Thane's business.
"I don't have any reason to assume it will, no," he answered flatly.
The corner of Bailey's jaw twitched and his brow furrowed for a flash of a moment. Most people probably would have missed it. But Kolyat wasn't that lucky. Damn drell memory. Just that brief glimpse of whatever-it-was crossing Bailey's face was enough to make Kolyat cringe.
"Look," Kolyat said, being careful to take any of the heat out of it (because none of this was Bailey's fault, and he knew that, no matter how easy it was to take his frustrations out on him). "It's just...it's complicated, okay?"
Bailey snorted.
"Yeah," he heard Bailey mutter. "Nothing's ever easy, is it?"
Kolyat snorted at that himself.
"No," he agreed. "Nothing worth it is, anyway." And then he flinched. It had been out of his mouth before he could stop it. Damn Thane and his quips and his sayings and his logic. He blinked at that. Was he just agreeing that a relationship with Thane might be worth this whatever-it-was? Gods, this was giving him a worse headache than Bailey's blinking deskplant.
Bailey scrubbed a hand over the top of his head, ruffling the short length of his hair before looking up at Kolyat and leaning forward in his chair. He slid the datapad across the desk toward Kolyat with the tips of his fingers. "This came in to the C-Sec office today. Addressed to you."
Kolyat's stomach dropped, and he fought the urge to snatch up the damned datapad and fling it into the nearest incinerator. Leave it to Thane to get in touch via a letter that he couldn't even be bothered to make sure was delivered directly.
In the end, after staring at the orange glow (and damn it all if it wasn't taunting him) for what felt like an eternity, it was for Bailey's sake and Bailey's alone (because Kolyat liked him well enough, really, and the thought of disappointing him needlessly after everything Bailey had done for him made his stomach clench and made the pain blooming behind his temples creep up behind his eyes and graduate to a full-fledged pinpoint-sharp throbbing) that Kolyat finally reached out and picked up the datapad.
He tucked the datapad into the inner breast pocket of his coat, not yet wanting to dare to read it (or listen to it - Gods, what if Thane had recorded his message? And then he would have to actually hear his father saying whatever-it-was about shame or pride or longing or regrets and that just wasn't fair). He didn't make to leave yet, not having truly been given an assignment, and Bailey didn't make to dismiss him, either. Bailey, in fact, turned back to his stack of datapads, straightening them again, sorting them into piles, deleting a few that he'd apparently already dealt with.
After a few moments of (what felt like) painful silence that seemed to stretch interminably, Kolyat finally cleared his throat. Bailey looked up, startled.
"You're still here, kid?"
"Yes, sir. You, uh," Kolyat flinched, embarrassed at having to point out the obvious, "you didn't really give me an assignment."
"Oh. Well. Read that letter," Bailey gestured vaguely in the direction of Kolyat's chest. "Or listen to it. Or whatever. That's your assignment for the day. I'll make up something important-sounding for the paperwork that should cover your ass, and mine, in case the higher-ups get their undergarments in a wad. How about 'Personal growth and self-examination'?"
Kolyat frowned and folded his arms across his chest. "Why does this matter so much to you?" he asked. Bailey made a little noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle.
"Is 'Because it's Christmas' convincing enough?"
Kolyat blinked at that, one of the ridges over his eyes arching as he looked at Bailey. He was sure his translator hadn't malfunctioned, as he'd understood the word, but there was absolutely no context.
"Christmas?" he repeated.
"Only one of the major human holidays," Bailey answered matter-of-factly as if that explained everything. And then (as the silence stretched and he must have realized it had explained absolutely nothing) his brow ridged in that peculiar way Kolyat was learning meant Bailey was utterly confused. "You really haven't heard about Christmas?"
"I've only been on the Citadel for two months. I had never even left Kahje before I came here."
"Oh," Bailey breathed as he sat back in his chair a bit, looking stunned. He waved a hand in the general direction of his blinking deskplant. "It started out as this religious celebration, and then it got co-opted by this other religion, and then it got co-opted by corporations, and then-" Bailey stopped himself short and briefly rubbed a hand across his forehead before leveling a look at Kolyat that Kolyat could only describe as weary. "Look," Bailey continued, "to most people, Christmas is still a time we spend with the people we love."
Kolyat could feel the ridge over his eye arching again. To say he was unimpressed was putting it mildly.
"You want me to forgive Thane because of a human holiday."
"Forgive your old man," Bailey said with a shrug that was a little too sharp to be enitrely believable, "don't forgive him, it's your decision, son. But life's short enough as it is without spending so much of it angry. Not to say I can't understand why you're angry with him. Hell, I'm not even saying I blame you for it. But at least your old man's trying. That's gotta be good for something." There was a little flicker of something Kolyat couldn't quite identify behind Bailey's eyes, but it was enough to make him pause.
He swallowed once, glancing down at his feet. Maybe (as much as Kolyat hated to admit it, because being angry with Thane was familiar at this point, and by all the gods, Thane deserved it) Bailey had a point. Maybe.
Decision made, he puffed out a breath and took a step back from Bailey's desk. Bailey nodded at him, that same small, tight grin stretching across his mouth for a moment.
"I'll see you tomorrow, kid. And be ready. I've got real work waiting for you."
"I'll be here," Kolyat responded, grinning in kind, and offering a jaunty sort of half-salute that actually made Bailey chuckle. As Kolyat walked out of C-Sec and into the riotous lights and noise of Zakera Ward, he took a moment to take the datpad out of his coat.
He turned the datapad over in his hands, examining it, absently weaving his way in and out of the small throngs that gathered in the causeways as he headed for his apartment. He wondered what Thane was playing at, why he would send a letter instead of calling. Why Thane had sent the damned thing to C-Sec of all places - surely Thane knew where he lived. Mouse knew. And Bailey knew, which meant Shepard knew. Which meant Thane had access to the information. So why wouldn't he use it? Did Kolyat even want him to?
Kolyat passed under a flickering sign, the purple light cutting in and out rapidly in the corners of his vision, and he thought of Bailey's little deskplant. He thought of this "Christmas" Bailey had mentioned. How apparently it no longer meant what it once had, but it still meant something to those who cared.
Halfway home, he finally gave in to the temptation. He ducked into a secluded alcove and, after checking that he was well and truly alone, activated the datapad. As a precaution, he routed any sound in the file to his personal earpiece, and then he activated the file.
"Kolyat," Thane's voice unexpectedly rumbled in his ear, making his heart stutter and race and his throat go tight.
His stomach pitted and roiled and his throat burned and he felt utterly boneless. It was exactly how he'd felt upon actually seeing Thane in Talid's apartment for the first time after all those years. He'd thought he was past this, thought he was no longer the little boy clinging to his father's leg (His father, cold and emotionless, eyes flat as the two of them send his mother to the depths. A heavy hand absently pats the top of his head. He looks up. His father isn't crying, doesn't even look sad. How dare he?).
He jerked himself out of the memory and slapped his thumb against the screen again, terminating the playback. He'd thought maybe Thane would have recorded a message instead of just writing it out, but he hadn't really been expecting it. On top of which, Thane's voice had actually sounded strained, hesitant even, and it made Kolyat wince. From anyone else, that wouldn't have been anywhere near enough. But from Thane...
He'd listen to it. But back home. In private.
Bailey was right - Thane was trying. Maybe it would be enough. It certainly wasn't perfect, and it hadn't been what he'd needed as a child, but maybe it could be a start to something different, something new between them. Maybe.