Chapter Text
Of all the places Kaz expected to be on a Friday afternoon—At the harbor with Inej, on a boat with Inej, at home with Inej.
He did not expect to be in his office.
And certainly not with Rotty trying to convince him to let a child in because the kid would not leave.
Kaz groaned. “For the last time, Rotty, just tell the kid to get out of here.”
“I’m trying, boss!” Rotty exclaimed. “He won’t leave!”
“What does that even mean?” Kaz threw his hands up. Here he was, Dirtyhands, the most feared man in the Barrel, and he couldn’t get a kid away from his doorstep.
“He keeps wanting to see you, boss! I keep telling him no, and he keeps arguing!”
“Then pick him up and go put him somewhere! I don’t care where, just somewhere safer or something! Go drop him in a diner!” Kaz ran a hand through his hair. Normally, he wouldn’t be caring about the kid so much, but it seemed Inej had had an influence on him in the month or so that they’d been married. Speaking of Inej, shouldn’t she have been here by now?
“Rotty, for the love of all the kruge I’ve got, just deal with the kid. And send Anika to take a look at the harbor. See if the Wraith is coming near.”
Rotty hesitated, then nodded and exited the room. Kaz let out a breath. This day was way too chaotic for a day that should have consisted mainly of him taking a nap.
Inej, where are you? Kaz thought, looking out to the harbor through his window. He could usually see it clearly, but the day wasn’t as clear as he would have liked it to be. The clouds and thick fog were too opaque to see through, for the most part. He suspected Inej would actually use the door today.
His suspicion was confirmed about an hour later, when his wife burst through the door.
“Kaz!” She smiled, and it was like someone had lit a lamp in both Kaz’s mind and the room.
“Inej.” He greeted calmly, though his heart was doing flips in his chest. Gently, carefully, he pulled her into a hug.
When he pulled away, he took a good look at her. She had flecks of white in her dark hair—sea salt—and the edges of her Captain’s garb was a bit rough, but other than that, she didn’t look too worse for wear.
“Close your eyes.” She grinned.
“What?”
“Please? It’s a surprise.”
Kaz closed his eyes. He felt something being placed on his head, and after a moment, he opened his eyes. Inej stood there, looking very proud of herself.
“Your darling Inej, treasure of your heart, has done you the honor of acquiring you a new hat.”
Kaz allowed himself the briefest smile, bringing up a finger to graze the brim of the hat. “So she has.”
Then, Inej frowned. “Kaz?”
“Yes, Inej?” His heart sank a bit at her expression, but he was more confused than anything.
“Why is there a thirteen-year-old outside the Slat door, arguing with Rotty?”
Kaz did a double take. “He’s thirteen?” He blurted.
With the way Rotty had been describing him, Kaz had thought the kid was five. Thirteen! Why, that was a teenager! Only a year younger than fourteen! And when Kaz was fourteen, he had-
Oh wait.
He’d jumped from a high place, thought he’d be fine, and broken his leg and damaged it permanently.
“What do you mean, ‘he’s thirteen’-” Inej started.
In that moment, the door to Kaz’s office swung open once more. A boy was shoved through, Rotty behind him.
“Hey!” The boy stumbled forward.
Rotty looked straight at Kaz. “I couldn’t do it, Boss. I just couldn’t. This kid was going to drive me insane.”
Kaz sighed, too tired for all this. “Rotty, you had one job.”
He looked at the kid, who was now steadying himself. He wasn’t very tall, but he wasn’t really short either. He had a thick head of black curls, though. Kaz tilted his head a bit to the side. The kid wasn’t dressed horribly, not like a lot of the other kids in the Barrel were. He wasn’t incredibly thin, either.
The kid looked up at Kaz with dark, almond-shaped eyes, and Kaz froze. He knew this face. He knew it like he knew the back of his hand. How could he not? It was the face that he’d seen for the first nine years of his life, and the face that had haunted him for all the years after.
The kid, unbeknownst to the tension of the room, put out his hand. His voice was scratchy, like it was broken and hadn’t been used in a long time. “Hello, Mr. Brekker. My name is Jordie Rietveld.”