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Kaz Brekker knew how to deal with pain. Most days he could push through it, stay focused, and get the job done. But it was the quiet moments when the pain was the worst—the moments when there was nothing to focus on but the dull ache in his bones that never fully faded. It was just enough to keep him on edge, to fill him with exhaustion but keep the relief of sleep out of reach. Tonight was one of those moments.
It’d been a long day: reports from his lieutenants barely after sunrise, a meeting with the Razor Gulls at the Exchange, business matters to resolve at the Crow Club, and then dinner at Wylan’s. Not a bad day, just a long one. The meeting at the Exchange had gone well, though Kaz’s definition of ‘well’ was mostly that it didn’t devolve into a shootout. The Crow Club’s finances were in order, his lieutenants gathered some useful information, and, despite his many protestations at Inej making him go, he actually enjoyed dinner. He hadn’t visited Jesper and Wylan since the last time Inej had returned to Ketterdam and dragged him along with her.
But with a long day came long walks across the city, and long trips up and down the Slat’s rickety flights of stairs, all of which meant his leg was hurting even more than usual. When he finally made it back to his room, he collapsed into bed. The chaos of the day faded, giving the pain space to set in. He cursed under his breath, angry at the stairs, angry at himself, angry at life, but anger didn’t change a thing. There was nothing he could do but grit his teeth and prepare for another sleepless night—and if he couldn’t sleep, he might as well get something done. He pushed himself out of bed, leaning heavily on his cane as he limped to the desk, which was covered in stacks of paper and files. To anyone else, it would have looked like utter chaos, but Kaz knew exactly where everything was. He sorted through the top stack, pulling out a ledger that needed to be tallied before the end of the month, having already taken care of this week’s work.
Kaz made it through the first few lines, but the pain was now radiating up from his leg, sending its burning tendrils through his nerves with every heartbeat. He pulled his knee up, resting his foot on the crate he kept under the desk. A sharp gasp escaped from him with the movement, but nothing more. Kaz Brekker did not scream, or cry out, or sob from pain, no matter how bad it got. Maybe Kaz Rietveld would have, he thought, but quickly dismissed this. Kaz Rietveld was gone. He tried to turn his attention back to his work, but the numbers began to blur in front of his eyes as his brain was overwhelmed.
Kaz slammed a fist on the desk in frustration, causing one of the stacks of files to collapse onto the floor. He’d have to deal with that later. Evidently tonight was going to be his least favorite type of night. No sleep, no work, just the damned ache in his bones to keep him company. He sunk into the desk chair, letting his eyes close for just a moment. He was interrupted when he felt a slight shift in the room. He wasn’t even sure what it was—a change in the wind? A sound? But he knew what it meant. “Hello, Inej.” And sure enough, he turned to find Inej perched in the window, pulling off her hood as she climbed in to sit on the sill.
Inej took in the scene before her: Kaz, slouched at his desk which was even less organized than usual, and the bed in the corner left with covers turned over and wrinkled instead of the usual meticulously tucked in sheets. “Bad night?” Inej asked, though she already knew the answer. Kaz gave a small grunt of agreement, eyes closed again as he attempted to quiet the pain. It wasn’t working. “I’ll go make us some tea, but you should get back in bed, it’ll be more comfortable.”
“Doubtful,” Kaz grumbled, but he grabbed his cane and lifted his leg off the crate, letting out another gasp from the effort. His hands shook as he tried to stand, leaning heavily on the cane and wincing again as his foot met the ground.
“Do you… can I help?” Inej asked, effortlessly sliding off the windowsill and taking a few steps towards Kaz, but stopping before she got too close. “I know you can do it alone, but you don’t have to. You shouldn’t have to.”
Kaz considered her offer as he took another shaky step forward, brow gleaming with sweat from the effort. A fresh wave of pain shot up his nerves as his foot slipped and he caught himself with the cane. He could get to the bed, but it would hurt, and he’d pay for it again with more pain later. Or he could let Inej help him. She’ll think you’re weak. You can’t let her see. But no, this was Inej. She’d seen him outsmart the Merchant Council, take over the Dregs, and escape death countless times. And she’d also seen him broken and bleeding, going days without sleep, fueled by nothing but spite. This wasn’t anything new. Kaz looked towards Inej and nodded quickly before he changed his mind, and she moved to his side cautiously.
“I’m going to wrap my arm around your back, then you can lean on my shoulder, okay?” Kaz gave a grunt of assent, and Inej positioned her arm. It would be easier if she were closer to Kaz’s height, but this would have to do. Kaz flinched at the contact, but didn’t move away. Between his shirt and Inej’s tunic, there was enough of a barrier between their skin to keep him from panicking. He'd been trying to do better—removing his gloves, even holding Inej’s hand at times, but letting the armor down was a slow and painful process. Accepting her help was just one more piece.
Slowly and carefully, they made it to the bed, and Inej let go of Kaz as soon as he was seated on the side. Kaz’s hand lingered for just a moment on her shoulder as he met Inej’s gaze. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, so many things she deserved to hear. But he could only manage one for now: “Thank you, Inej.”
Inej smiled at his words, and they stayed there for a moment, taking in each other’s faces and the comfort of their careful closeness. It was Inej who finally moved, breaking this trance. “I—I’ll be back in a moment.” Kaz nodded, pulling himself onto the bed and stuffing a pillow under his leg as the door clicked behind her.
He was alone again, but now his thoughts were of her: the way her dark eyes gleamed in the moonlight, the faint rose scent of her hair, the crease of her brow when she was completely focused on a task. He wished he could hold her close, wished he could spend every moment at her side. But neither of them could handle physical closeness for long. There were too many memories. And besides, she had her ship, and he had this city, a city they’d fought against and bled for—together.
These thoughts were interrupted by Inej’s return. She carried a steaming mug in each hand, and a hot water bottle tucked under one arm. “Chamomile, with some herbs my mother showed me to help with pain,” she said, carefully setting the cups on the nightstand. Then she passed the water bottle to Kaz, who laid it on his leg, sighing as the warmth began to ease the ache in his bones. Inej picked up her mug, and climbed onto the bed, leaving some space between them as she sat cross-legged, leaning back against the wall. They stayed like that for a while, sipping their tea and enjoying each other’s quiet company.
This time Kaz was the one to break their silence. Another shape inhale escaped as he shifted, trying in vain to move his leg into a comfortable position. He leaned back again with a sigh, giving up on the effort.
“Talk or listen?” Inej asked, after watching the grimace that settled on his face.
“What?”
“Talk, or listen? It’ll help distract you. Nina’s idea. We traded stories for hours while she was still recovering from parem,” Inej explained.
“Zenik. Still meddling, even from Ravka,” Kaz grumbled. “Fine, I’ll listen. Tell me about the latest journeys of The Wraith.”
Inej smiled, and told him about the new crewmates she’d hired, the slaver’s ship they’d tracked for weeks before finally taking it down, the incredible view from the top mast of the ship, the secrets about members of the Merchant Council she’d gathered to start their next hunt, and more. Kaz’s eyes drifted closed as she spoke, but he kept listening, occasionally interjecting with a comment or insult to her enemies. As she finished the story of a ship she’d captured off the coast of Shu Han, Inej noticed Kaz’s comments were less frequent, and his breathing had deepened.
“Get some sleep,” she said. Kaz gave a short hum of agreement. Inej hopped off the bed and turned off the oil lamp on his desk, then grabbed the extra pillows from the closet. She placed them in the center of the bed, creating a barrier. It was the best system they’d figured out to stay together, without actually touching. She perched on the edge of the bed, unsheathing her knives one by one, and resting them on the bedside table. All except one, Sankt Peter, which she tucked under her pillow. One could never be too careful in Ketterdam, especially in the Barrel.
Inej turned to find Kaz already drifting off. She pulled the blanket up around him, then wrapped a second blanket around herself.
“Goodnight, Kaz,” she whispered, not wanting to wake him.
“G’night ‘Nej,” mumbled Kaz. Inej smiled, and they both sunk into a deep sleep, knowing they were safe by each other’s sides.