Work Text:
Spring in Ketterdam means tulips and new beer, but Kaz's office was as shuttered and gloomy as ever.
He sat at his desk with the stolen deKappel on the wall behind him, and worked steadily through the accounts for the new club. He ignored the sounds of the street outside - barrels of beer being rolled from cart to kitchen, hawkers shouting hot pies, hot pies, horses' hooves and the excited chatter of tourists. Having an office on the ground floor was sometimes noisy, but his door was stoutly locked and only he had a key.
His hair fell over his face as he worked, jotting notes to be sent across Ketterdam, tallying the money in, signing bills for money going out. His gloves lay beside the ledger. His cane leaned against the old black desk.
A stirring in the air made him raise his head. He already knew, yet after so many months, he needed to look up to be certain.
Inej stood in his office, dressed in her customary tunic and leggings. Her dark eyes smiled at him.
Kaz kept his expression hard, though his heart beat quickly. She was back. She was here.
She was here, but she was holding a baby, wrapped in a sling that allowed her hands to remain free.
Kaz took in the spectacle. Of course. Even as a mother, Inej would not want to be defenceless. Perhaps especially.
He allowed his mind to wander along this path, Inej defending her child, Inej hurling knives at assailants while feeding her baby -
His thought skittered away from that image. "You're back then."
"As you see." She stroked the child's fine hair.
How old was it. Six months? Kaz had no idea about babies. He didn't remember being one.
She said, "You look well."
"I'm busy." He indicated the office, lined with maps and charts: Ketterdam, the harbours, a large map showing the whole of Kerch, and an even larger one, of the entirety of countries surrounding the True Sea.
"And the others. Have you heard from them?"
He got up and walked about the office, leaning on his cane. It felt better to stomp about, let noise shake off this horror in his heart.
She was here, and he was glad, he would always be glad. But she had chosen a new route. Not him. The opposite of him. A family. A child.
He hoped vividly that she had not brought the baby's father with her.
"They're thriving," he said drily. "Jesper and Wylan throw formidable parties. So I'm told."
"You don't go."
He just looked at her.
Why would he go? Jesper, loose and glowing with wealth and happiness, and usually to be found draped around Wylan. Wylan, as slight as ever but now more solid and certain, tolerating Jesper's public attentions in a way that told Kaz who held the reins in private
There was always good food, plenty of booze, and music. And laughter, and their many friends.
Of course Kaz didn't go.
He approached Inej. "Who's this?" With a great effort, he reached his index finger towards the child but stopped short of chucking it under the chin. "Girl or boy?"
"Boy." Inej tickled the child, and the baby giggled.
"He has your eyes." Kaz forced himself to let go of the cane and stand without its support. He was not as feeble as that.
"Everyone says that," she said, and smiled. "Do you want to hold him?" She didn't give him a choice, simply untied the sling and placed the child in Kaz's arms.
Heavy . That was the first sensation. And warm, and moist, and breathy, the child was. Kaz went rigid with fear, for himself, if he couldn't control his panic, and the baby, if he somehow harmed it.
Inej retrieved the child after a few seconds. Less than a minute. "I'll hand him over," she said lightly, appearing not to notice the sweat on Kaz's lip. She said, "Wait a moment," and darted out of the office. She had to unlock the door. Kaz remembered all the times she'd done this: appeared, and disappeared, without explanation of how. He liked it. Had liked it. Before.
When she returned, the sling, and the child were gone.
The room breathed a little easier without the warm, moist evidence of Inej's new life. Sunlight came like blades between the slats at the window. Kaz said, "When-"
"He was born seven months ago."
Kaz mind whirled. Nine months. She'd been gone thirteen. He'd last seen her nine months ago -
"Honestly Kaz," said Inej, "you used to be faster than this."
He drew a long, slow breath. "Your brother's baby."
"Of course he is."
"Why-"
"I wanted to see the look on your face."
Kaz kept his gaze on Inej's face. A trick. A joke. She was teasing him. "Why?" he repeated. He knew, of course. But he wanted to hear her say it.
She stood still, meeting his gaze, her breathing undetectable.
Kaz waited. When someone wants you to know something, there's very little you can do to stop them. -Short of violence, and he was well aware that his own brutality would be easily bested by Inej's skill.
"I wanted to see your face," she said, more quietly than before. "And I did. And it was…" She took a step closer. "Priceless." The word, in her low voice, did not sound like a taunt. It sounded like a secret chamber lined with gold.
"I wanted to know," she said. "If you had been able to conquer, to master -" She gestured vaguely.
"-The fact that I crumble like a Kerch meringue when touched."
"That you used to crumble," she said sternly. "No more. You're not even wearing gloves. And you held the baby like…"
"A weakling," he said harshly.
Inej laughed, actually laughed at him. But it was a soft sound, not mocking. "Like a man who has no idea how to hold a baby."
He flushed red.
"Kaz," she said, and touched his sleeve. "Nobody does, until they have to. And you didn't drop him. He didn't even cry."
The coil of hurt and anger inside him ratcheted a little tighter. "So, you came here to test me." She hadn't trusted him to have changed, to have tried. She doubted him, when he had never doubted her. That stung.
Inej didn't hesitate. "I came to see you," she said. "I wanted to see you." Her eyes told all the things she wanted. He swallowed.
She paused "That is, if you still want -"
"Yes." He let his anger unwind, made it unwind. It was only a part of his old weakness, after all. He had promised himself that if she returned, and was willing, he would act. He stepped to her and swiftly but carefully circled her with his arms. "Do you?"
"Yes," she said, looking up at him.
He nodded. The baby was forgotten. It was time. He lifted one hand and caressed her cheek.
"How?" she said, as he traced the line of her throat with his bare fingers. He was trembling a little, but that was all.
"Somebody helped me." Somebody he would never see again, by agreement, and who would never divulge any details of their transactions.
He watched Inej ponder his reply, her eyes dark and steady. One day he might tell her more. It was unlikely, though. He wanted her to know him without the terror, without the vertigo of unbidden memory.
She said, "The baby helped me. I've held him almost as much as his mother has. He wants nothing from me except me, except human comfort. It's a different kind of giving, a different kind of taking. He's just a baby."
"Hmmn." Wriggling, smelly, breathy, inquisitive. Another idea to set aside for a long time. "I'm glad," he said. He touched her hair, found it as smooth and cool as he remembered. "So." And he hesitated.
"I came to see you," she said, quite calm, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders. "To know how things stand. I won't waste my life wanting, but I realised I wanted to ask you again. Now that I'm…better."
"So," he repeated, more from nerves than anything. "You want this."
"I want this. Do you?"
He closed his eyes a moment. Relief and joy hammered inside him but he could not yet let them free. "Every day," he said. 'Every day I imagine you at my side."
He opened his eyes. I love you . The words seemed so feeble and trite, inadequate for what he felt when he thought of Inej. He bit his lip, then said them anyway. "To be clear," he added.
She smiled. "Clarity is good." She looked up at him for a long moment, her hands sliding up to cradle his face. Then she kissed him.
Her kiss was everything he'd hoped, and everything he'd dreaded. Such intimacy, her mouth on his, and the words they'd exchanged. But it was Inej.
He held her, his embrace tight but careful, and when she drew back, kissed her in return. Her skin was warm and soft. He breathed in her scent, so faint, but he always knew when she was near, and now she was nearer than ever. He kissed her lips, her eyes, her cheek, her tender throat. The happiness burst inside him like underwater fireworks, like bubbles in stolen champagne.
The door was closed. Nobody shared this moment but them. This was why she left, and why he fought to be better. He would stand beside her forever, if forever existed for people like them. -He would make it exist. He murmured her name, over and over as he kissed and caressed her tight in his arms, and every touch was his promise.