Chapter Text
Inej wishes her life was like a character's in a child's story book. No matter what they go through, they're always alright at the end, back to their happy, stupid lives.
She wishes she had a happy ever after.
Now that they've got Kaz and her back, the most pressing problem is Pekka. He's going to strike back—anyone would be an idiot to believe he's done with Kaz. He'll be hiding his time, and when he's ready, he'll attack with a plan even more brutal that the last.
And Inej dreads what that will be. Especially because...
Pekka knows about Kaz's biggest weakness. He knows, and as much as Inej is loathe to admit it, she knows that it's her fault. And she blames herself for it
And she thinks Kaz does too.
She hasn't seen him in a while—but he was clearly not okay at Wylan's house, right after they got back, of course he wasn't.
That's the worst part—seeing how Kaz is so not okay and pretending that he is. His acting, as usual, is near flawless—only she saw the how he flinched at her voice, how he shrank into himself when she drew near. Only she noticed how he was quiet—and not like usual, when he's reserved and cold, but like he was hurting.
And God knows he must be.
Inej wants to help him—and she would, if he let her. But instead, he's throwing himself into his work, and whenever Inej goes to check up on him, Anika apologetically informs her that he's too busy and has strictly ordered not to be disturbed.
After the fifth time, Inej gives her a look. "Is he actually that busy?" she asks.
Anika shrugs. "I don't know what he does, holed up in his office. Spends all day there, then slips up to his room without anyone noticing. I haven't seen him in a while, to be honest."
She pauses, then adds, "Is...everything alright between you two?"
Inej nods distractedly. "Is he in his office?"
Anika sighs. "Ghafa—"
Inej ignores her and slips past Anika, but then a hand grabs her wrist. She turns, and Anika gives her a look.
"I'm not stopping you because I know you're good for him," she says. "And I know he needs it. But I'm begging you, don't leave him in a bad mood. We all have to suffer for it."
Inej gives her a grateful nod and knocks loudly.
"For Ghezen's sake," Kaz growls from inside. "Anika, what do I keep you around for?"
"She wouldn't listen, boss," Anika calls, then gives her a look as if to say good luck, and leaves.
Inej lets herself in.
Kaz is, as expected, sitting on his desk, glaring at her. He's pale and thin and there are dark bags under his eyes, but the scowl he gives her is still impressive.
"Kaz," she says. "Don't look at me like that."
He raises an eyebrow. "You were supposed to leave this morning."
Inej shrugs. "So eager to watch me go?" she asks. "I changed my mind. I wanted to stay a little while longer."
"Why?" Kaz's stare is piercing, as if he's daring her to admit she's worried.
Inej sighs to herself. "I wanted to spend some more time with you, after that...fiasco." She watches him carefully for any sign of a flinch, or something, but Kaz's face is completely inscrutable.
"I'm busy," he says.
After a second, Inej braces herself and reaches out to him, and there—he flinches, though it's almost imperceptible. Inej draws back, her heart aching, and Kaz twists his hands in his gloves, avoiding her eyes.
"I'm busy," he repeats.
For a moment, there's an awkward silence. Then Inej says, "Kaz—"
"Wraith," he interrupts, then catches himself, something flashing in his eyes. Inej remembers how he'd called her that and she'd replied harshly, I'm not the Wraith anymore, am I? The ache in her heart intensifies.
"Captain Ghafa," he amends, and it hurts to think that he still can't bring himself to say her name, "I'm busy. Leave, before I make you."
She feels like she's going to cry. "Kaz," she tries, one last, desperate shot. "Please."
He falters, ducking his head so she can't see it, and his hands twist again, tugging at his gloves. He takes a long breath. He says nothing, makes no move of making her leave, so Inej presses on.
"Please, just talk to me, alright? I know it's hard, that you might still think I'm going to hurt you, but—"
"Inej," he cuts in, voice an abraded rasp, "I am perfectly fine. You needn't worry." He takes another breath. "I want you to leave."
Inej closes her eyes. "I love you, Kaz," she says thickly, and feels him stiffen. "I...I want us again."
He says nothing for what feels like an eternity. Then he inhales sharply and says, "Don't make me repeat myself."
Tears press against Inej's throat. She tries not to let them flow and ducks her head, backing away. Kaz avoids her eyes, fiddling with the papers on his desk.
"Goodbye, Kaz," she says, and somehow it feels like a permanent farewell.
He doesn't reply.