Chapter Text
Kaz held the letter from Inej in his hands, reading it for the fifth time. The second hunt The Wraith had gone on was successful. She’d sent word on a fast courier ship from Os Kervo with an approximate arrival date for her return to Ketterdam. Relief and anxiety warred within him. Inej was safe, and coming back. This was what he wanted, right? Then why did it feel like his nerves might explode his heart like one of Wylan’s bombs? It had been six weeks of missing her. Of worry. Of working to enact some changes in the way the Dregs ran things. He’d gathered more intel for her as well, and was eager to present it to her. Kaz had things to show her, tell her, that he hoped would make her happy. Maybe even proud of him. Which was ridiculous if he thought about it too much. But the reality of seeing her in person again was giving him heart palpitations. Would he be able to touch her? Hold her hand like before? Would she still want that after having her adventures on the True Sea? His mind was a whirlwind of doubt, unkind voices saying he was foolish, that she would find him far less thrilling after being captain of her own warship. That he still didn’t know how to offer himself without armor. Or even exactly what that meant. Certainly, it wasn’t just the gloves.
He assigned younger members of the Dregs in shifts to watch Berth 22 at Fifth Harbor. Jeter, who was fully recovered, and had put on some weight and muscle, offered to take the early shifts no one else wanted. The one eyed kid gave his all to the Dregs and then some. He’d ingratiated himself with most of the crew. Kaz didn’t regret letting Anika and Pim bring in a stray. They’d even organized a cleaning schedule for the Slat because of Jeter’s efforts. Some of the Dregs griped about it, but many seemed to take a bit of pride in their ramshackle home looking better. Kaz admitted privately to his lieutenants that they would need more housing soon, as the crew increased in numbers. He was glad they had plenty of runners to spare to watch the docks for the arrival of The Wraith. On the morning he was fairly certain Inej would arrive, he donned his best suit. His instincts were correct. Jeter raced into the Slat. ‘Boss, the ship’s here!’
Thanking the reasonably nice summer weather that was being kind to his bad leg, Kaz made haste to Fifth Harbor. He pushed himself entirely too hard, however, and by the time he made it to Berth 22, he was gripping his cane fiercely to avoid stumbling. Damned leg. The sun was at just the right angle to blind him as he tried to spot Inej on her ship. Damned sun. Then he saw her. Good Ghezen, she looks amazing. Inej was a shade bronzer than when she’d left, her cheeks rosy, her dark eyes brilliant under the tricorn hat he’d gotten her, knives gleaming here and there. She looked every inch the dangerous captain of The Wraith. He forgot to school his face, and any words he might have had, so struck by how stunning and confident Inej was as she strode towards him. You’re in public, you fucking podge, get a hold of yourself. Kaz grappled his composure back in place, and nodded to her as she drew close. He still had no clue what to say.
The window of opportunity swiftly closed. Kaz heard Jesper hollering behind him, with Wylan’s voice coming after. Of course those two interrupt again. Damned idiots. He bit back any rudeness that might have escaped his lips, for Inej’s sake. They were her friends too, and it wasn’t necessarily their fault his mouth failed him. He didn’t have to like it, though. Maybe he’d do better seeing her alone at the Slat. In private. He requested for her to meet him later. Then Jes was past him and sweeping Inej into an embrace. Kaz had to turn away, lest he smack his friend away from her or do something else equally stupid. He had no claims. She could hug who she wanted. He wasn’t even sure if he could do the same, even if the memory of her in his arms often came to him in his dreams. Catching her from a fall was different than running up and hugging her like Jes did. He could barely stand the painful walk to the Slat currently, never mind running.
By the time he’d gotten back to his attic office, his bad leg was a riot of pain, and his mind was a riot of chaos and uncertainty. He slumped into the comfortable desk chair at his work table, and tried in vain to get the muscles around the old break to ease up. Perhaps he could try and quiet his mind with some work. He also debated a shot of kvas to ease the pain in his leg, but it was rather early for that, and he’d rather be sober for a meeting with Inej. He’d opened the first ledger when his senses informed him she’d already gotten to his roof. Of course. Kaz greeted her much as he always did, reveling in a tiny bit of the old routine with a bittersweet joy. She gave a tiny little huff. Maybe she’d thought he’d lost his knack for sensing her in six weeks. He turned in his desk chair to find she was every bit as stunning here as she’d been on the dock, even without the bright morning sun lighting her up like a pirate Saint. His mind was at war again. Wanting to be close to her, but anxious about if he could handle it, or if Inej wanted it.
He gestured wordlessly to the small couch he’d added to the office, not trusting his mouth to cooperate. Inej inclined her head, and gracefully crossed the room to sit. Kaz marshaled his mind, and bit his cheek to distract him from the pain of standing and moving to the couch. Fucking leg. He sat to her right, letting his left leg land close to hers, and keeping his bad leg away from possible contact. The couch was even more cozy than his new desk chair, which was a small blessing at the moment. Inej shifted, bringing her legs up at an angle that put one knee within inches of his thigh. He tried not to stare. It seemed she did want some closeness. His entire chest seized, possibly with nerves, possibly with heart failure. Breath, you idiot. He let his leg drift sideways until it was just touching her knee, and stifled the shudder that threatened to run through him. Take off the gloves! said some impetuous part of his brain that was fearless. He debated, but listened against the better judgment of the more cautious parts. Slowly, he peeled his gloves off and rested them on the arm of the couch. It was Inej’s turn not to stare. He kept one hand gripped over his thigh, near her knee, but not daring to touch her. The other was near his gloves, in case he needed to snatch them back up.
Kaz told his mouth it needed to hurry up and figure out a plan. That’s usually our strong suit, remember? Half a dozen things to say occurred to him. Like how much he’d missed her, or how staggeringly beautiful he found her in her current state, or that she seemed to have gained some new knives, or that he'd been feeding her crows. None of them sounded like a good idea to actually say out loud. In desperation, he went for the simplest question first. ‘Tell me all about your adventures?’ Kaz listened raptly to all of her news. Watched her happiness when she talked about visiting with her family in Ravka. Her exhilaration in her first two successful hunts. The satisfying tales of returned Suli children. He asked questions occasionally. His intel had led to Captain Ghafa and her crew taking down two slavers operating off the coast of western Ravka. Neither was the one that had kidnapped Inej, but there were now more leads to get her closer. And slavers in Ravkan irons, she announced with some pride. He thrilled in her successes and joy, all while feeling a bit lost, almost left out somehow. Kaz noted a bit of tension here and there, like when she talked about the captain of the second vessel. There were things she was holding back, but he wasn’t sure if he should pry. Inej didn’t seem to thrill in her own violence, and he suspected that there was something she regretted in what she wasn’t telling him.
Instead of asking her more leading questions, he let her have her privacy on whatever was troubling her. He gave her updates on the news of the Barrel. Happenings with the Merchant Council, and how things had played out after she left. How the Dregs had grown, and how well Jeter was doing. She smiled at that, and told him that she’d noticed that he’d been the runner who’d spotted her. ‘He looks so much healthier!’ Kaz also told her he’d gotten word that Pekka Rollins had pulled up stakes from his country estate and left Kerch entirely. There was a devious glint to her eyes then. She let slip that she’d visited Rollins before she’d sailed off. ‘You what!?’ Inej had caught him so completely off guard he sputtered. ‘Just wanted to make sure he knew I hadn’t forgotten about him. Glad he moved on.’ Kaz blinked at her nonchalance, like rolling in and terrorizing the former King of the Barrel had been a walk in the park and not a high wire act. There’s no way I deserve this woman, was the loudest thought his brain provided even as he tried to think of questions.
Inej didn’t seem inclined to give him much more detail besides that she’d visited Pekka’s country estate, and reminded Rollins she could find him anywhere. Kaz didn’t doubt how scary she could be, even without much in the way of violence. Rollins might have thought himself safe, but Inej was the Wraith. He wondered, though, if like with the slaver captain, she was withholding a detail that troubled her. Should I push? His eyes flicked down to their legs touching on the couch. Whatever this thing was that existed between them seemed tenuous at best. His mind was already a cacophony of nervous thoughts, and the last thing that he wanted to do was let his mouth ruin things. And Kaz had been trying to let go of his singular focus on Rollins. He moved on to a related topic, and let her know that he and the Dregs had bought up all of Rollins’ buildings, the last sale having just been finalized. Her answering smile was wicked.
He watched as her gaze strayed to their legs, then back up to him. His mouth went dry, and his brain was filled with a rush of wind that blew all his words away. Did she mind their legs touching? He was the one who’d closed the gap. But she could have moved back. They’d been sitting like this for the better part of an hour. How was he at such a loss as to what to do here? Maybe because you’ve never been here, you podge. Kaz couldn’t comprehend how to reach out for more without feeling selfish. Inej seemed so fulfilled by her adventures. Even with whatever actions were bothering her, it appeared she’d thoroughly enjoyed her taste of freedom. He didn’t want to fetter Inej to him or the city she’d escaped. If he slipped his hand over her knee, how would she take that? He didn’t want to spook her, or make her feel like he wanted things she didn’t feel comfortable with. Better by far to let her make the next move. Or let her sail off again without feeling like she was obliged to him. Like he was trying to make any claims on her person or her time.
The decision to let her go in the first place crowded back into his mind. Kaz had plenty of experience in letting things go. He held in the sigh that threatened to escape him as he moved to get up. Both because he didn’t want to leave her side, and because even with rest, his bad leg was still grumpy. By way of explanation for his movement, he told her, ‘Got you plenty of new intel, by the way.’ He left his gloves on the couch as he used his cane to lever himself up. Hiding how horribly his leg hurt was second nature, even around Inej. He fetched the organized folder from his safe. It included information on more slaver ships, corruption among the Merchant Council, and which gangs were doing the shadiest of business. He also told her he would look into the previous indenture sales from The Branka. Then he asked her how long she’d be staying in Ketterdam.
‘This is just a short supply run, so maybe a week or so. The crew and I are eager to get back out there ahead of the late summer storms.’ Kaz rigidly held his expression to avoid showing her any disappointment as he inclined his head. He wasn’t making any claims, and that meant he had no say over how long she stayed near him or in the city. Had he hoped she’d be here longer? Hope is dangerous, remember? He asked if she was staying at the Van Eck mansion. She was, and she ought to get there soon, she replied. Kaz felt the head of his cane digging into his bare hand as he gripped it too tight again. The pain in his leg was being rivaled by the ache of not knowing what to do or say. He managed to tell her to enjoy her time with the boys. And then she was out of his window and gone over the rooftops.
Ghezen, you’re a fucking idiot. Kaz knew he should get some work done. That ledgers and math might help with the whirlwind in his mind. But his leg and his head were both protesting. He grabbed the bottle of kvas, and poured out a shot. Fuck how early it still is. As the liquor burned down his throat, he let himself collapse on the couch, this time, stretching out his leg along its length. Bare fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, he groaned. What could I have done differently? Nothing immediately came to mind. Inej shouldn’t feel constrained by him, or his desire to see more of her. She’d said she wasn’t done with him or Ketterdam, and she’d come back. What more did he want? So much he couldn’t have, or couldn’t currently offer her. And she’d said she was eager to get back out. He could poke his contacts, see if there was any fresh intel he could gather for her. He had the name of the ship she suspected had taken her. The Vitomir. Curiously, it was a Ravkan ship name. Inej had said once that the slavers who took her had spoken a language she didn’t recognize. The crew must be mixed, then, not fully Ravkan. That gave him more to go on. This was something concrete Kaz could offer; he was skilled at gathering and analyzing information. Having a plan of action helped his rattled mind. The shot of kvas had taken the edge off of the pain of his leg. The rest, the uncertainty when it came to Inej, he shoved into a mental safe vault. Have to be able to function. When he felt well enough to move, he gathered up his gloves, and made his way downstairs to summon Roeder.
Over the next few days, Kaz tapped all of his informants, and Roeder actually came through with some new intel as well. It would take more than a week to hunt down information on The Vitomir, but Kaz had a new lead on a slaver ship operating off the coast of Novyi Zem that he’d already compiled intel on. He also had manifests for the sales The Branka had made in Ketterdam, and a contact to find out about the Southern Colonies sale. I’ll make sure she knows I support her mission, that she can count on me for this. Late one night, when he arrived back at the Slat after visiting his newly purchased properties, there was a note on his work table in Inej’s handwriting. It was short, letting him know when she’d be leaving, and thanking him for the data he’d already given her. Kaz nodded to himself. He’d go, and see her off, and hand her another folder. I’ll prove my usefulness.
Trying to sleep that night, he thought of and discarded a few other ideas. A more personal note inside the folder seemed trite, somehow. The hat had gone over well, and she clearly liked it, but she certainly only needed one captain’s hat. She had plenty of knives. Any more public display of affection on the docks struck him as a security risk. Possibly, he was better at grand gestures, like parental reunions and warships, than he was at smaller ones. He rolled over and punched his pillow, willing his brain to let him rest. It wasn’t like sleep was a friend in the first place. Kaz could barely remember a time without nightmares and troubling dreams. The last restful slumber he could recall was from before. Before Da… before Jordie… Before Inej had almost been killed, and then kidnapped. His brain provided so many terrors in his sleep, from the Reaper’s Barge to Inej being dropped from high above Vellgeluk. Simpler nightmares came too. That night, when he finally got his eyes to stay shut, he dreamt he overslept and missed seeing Inej off at the docks.
The morning The Wraith was set to leave, he got an early start so he wouldn’t strain his leg. Or miss seeing her. Once he was at Berth 22, he slipped his gloves off and into his pockets. He waited for Inej to notice him amongst the bustle of preparing to sail. The jittery nerves that had been with him over several sleepless nights had him clamping down hard on his expression. He needed to keep himself together in public, for both of their sakes. No need for her crew or anyone else at Fifth Harbor to see the Bastard of the Barrel having a nervous breakdown. Just because he happened to not be able to sleep, or get his head on straight when it came to a certain Captain. Who was now walking up to him. Kaz held the folder out to her. ‘A few new leads, and manifests on The Branka’s sales here. I will have more for you the next time you dock. Possibly before. I’ll send coded letters as needed.’ Inej’s fingers brushed across his knuckles. He clamped down on the full body tremor her touch caused, but the smile escaped before he could stop it. Wily, his Wraith was. Always finding ways to unravel him. Fortunately, he’d repeatedly rehearsed his goodbye phrase on his walk here till he was sure he’d have the words. That his mouth wouldn’t rebel. ‘Happy hunting, Captain Ghafa,’ he wished her, with a nod. And then he watched her set sail again.
Kaz attempted to settle back into his routine. The one that existed in the six weeks Inej was on her first voyage. He concentrated on his work. His businesses and investments and plans. And he tried, only somewhat successfully, to ignore the loneliness that washed over him when he gazed at his attic office window. Or thought too much about Inej’s quiet presence tickling his senses. Her knee against his thigh. Her fingers brushing against his knuckles. Sharing meals with her after heists. Hearing her laugh. Saints, her laugh. Somehow, this second departure was worse, and he wasn’t sure why. Nightmares about Inej dying on the deck of The Wraith entered the fray. He needed to get a hold of himself.
It didn’t occur to him to reach out to anyone else to assuage the lonely pangs. Kaz had never done so in the past; it wasn’t currently in his nature. There had been some contact between him and Jesper and Wylan, but the merchling was adamant about Jesper staying out of the Barrel. Staying away from the temptation of the gambling halls. Kaz could see the reasoning. While he’d mostly come to terms with Jesper’s egregious security fuck up during the Ice Court heist, Kaz still had an uneasy feeling around Jes. Their fight in the Geldrenner had opened up a mental vault he hadn’t wanted anyone near. He attributed his slip up with his brother’s name to exhaustion and being overwrought. Examining the nature of his relationship with Jesper was not something he was willing or able to tackle at the moment.
At least he and Inej wrote each other letters. He’d ensured there was a network of trusted people in various ports so that they could maintain contact safely. Inej and her people were adding in new covert contacts as well. Their missives were never too personal, keeping some details vague for security reasons, but he ate up every word of her adventures. He wrote of happenings in the Barrel in coded phrases, kept her apprised of what the various gangs and merchers were up to. Sometimes she would include a postscript about missing him or the city, and he greedily hoarded every line. His answers said that Ketterdam and he would be waiting for her. He missed her fiercely, but hesitated to say it, lest she feel obligated. Or lest he reveal too much. He’d given her a warship, but couldn’t yet admit how much she meant to him. To Inej, or even to himself. Once he’d made the decision to let her go, he felt the need to abide by it. Even if it ate at him like starvation. Kaz was used to going hungry for things, but this was a new ache. Each letter he got confirming her safety, her continued success, fed his need to know she was well. But every departure brought up his fears for her, and his loneliness again. The cycle of her returning and leaving Ketterdam began to drive his moods more than he cared to admit.
Each time Inej came back, he vacillated between wanting to see her and wanting to keep his distance so she wouldn’t feel tied to him. The same war of nerves, heart, and mind would happen, but he continued to see her when she was there. He always had a folder of intel for her. Sometimes they sat on the couch and talked for hours. Kaz tried holding her hands with his bare ones, giving her clothed embraces. His body and his brain would occasionally rebel, and cast him into the harbor. The discouragement he felt with each failure made the vines of hope constrict into a vice on his heart. Hope was dangerous. He’d yet to figure out how to offer her more. And that ate at him too. Inej kept coming to see him at the Slat, even with as meager as it must have been to spend time with him.
He always had runners stationed at Fifth Harbor when he knew she was due to arrive. Sometimes, he’d get to the docks to greet her as The Wraith came in. Some days, the pain in his bad leg wouldn’t allow him to get there quickly, so he’d send notes requesting for her to meet him. Most often, he watched her depart with a gnawing ache. His crew probably noticed how his mood shifted depending on if The Wraith was in Ketterdam, but he found he couldn’t be bothered to fix it. Rotty made a wry comment once, but between Kaz’s scowled reaction, and Pim slapping him on the back of the head, the mistake had not been repeated. Kaz was often surly even when Inej was in town, but it was far worse when she left. He was immensely proud of her, though. She was triumphant and glorious and fierce. Her reputation, and that of The Wraith, grew with each voyage. He heard the rumors of the Scourge of the True Sea. Sometimes, he fed the rumors more fodder. About how skilled she was with her knives. How she moved like the very night itself. How merciless her crew could be. It protected her somewhat, to have the slavers afraid enough that surrender seemed the best option.
Kaz had a crew to run, and a Barrel to rule, and he attempted to distract himself from missing Inej by increasing his empire. Galvanized by her goals, he worked to change things across all of the Dregs’ businesses. Then all of Rollins’ properties and indentures they’d purchased up. They converted The Emerald Palace into the Silver Six fairly quickly. Kaz had chosen the name with, perhaps, an abundance of sentiment. Not that he would tell anyone that. The other clubs and properties that belonged to Rollins all got renovated and turned out to Kaz’s liking. The Dime Lions completely fell apart. Some of them joined the other gangs. A few who’d never respected Pekka joined the Dregs. Kaz refused to reopen the Sweet Shop as a brothel, and converted the small pleasure house that Haskell had maintained. That wasn’t just for Inej; it made many in his crew happy as well. The Dregs claimed most of the Dime Lions territory. He released Rollins’ indentures, but many chose to stay on with the Dregs. One former Sweet Shop indenture, Seile, even joined Inej’s crew on The Wraith. Kaz had encouraged her, knowing Inej’s mission would appeal to the Kaelish woman. Eliminating any unfair indentures, and readjusting contracts, he added loyal members to his ranks. Kaz officially promoted Keeg and Rotty to minor lieutenants as the Dregs grew.
He continually observed the politics and back biting in both the Barrel and in the Merchant Council, and as usual, saw little difference between the merchers and the gang leaders. Gang leadership changed hands. Geels took over the Black Tips, naming Elzinger as his main lieutenant. Eamon, from the Dime Lions, had joined the Razorgulls, then staged a coup and taken leadership. Kaz had to spend some time having the Dregs knock sense into both the Black Tips and the Razorgulls. Fortunately, the Liddies, Harley’s Pointers, and the West Stave Rats mostly stayed out of his way. Their leadership was older, and didn’t seem to want to stir the pot. The Dregs were the largest gang now, and Kaz took additional steps to ensure his crew were well taken care of. He expanded the Crow Club when the opportunity arose. Any chance to maximize profits and funnel them back towards his crew was taken. Maintaining the Dregs' expanded territory grew easier with the gang’s confidence and numbers.
Though many referred to him as the new King of the Barrel, Kaz went right on being the Bastard. His power and his reach expanded exponentially, but he didn’t relish taking on Pekka’s old title. Even if he’d once told Inej they'd be 'kings and queens'. Most of the lower ranks of the rival gangs would make way for him if he happened to be walking through their territories. Every so often, some young or especially stupid podge would try their hand at challenging him. Dirtyhands made object lessons of them. A lot of broken bones were left in the wake of his cane. Outside of the Barrel, he also met with an intriguing new level of fear and respect. His reputation had grown in the Geldin district. Kaz started a project expanding some existing tunnels under the city to give himself a clandestine route to the Geldstraat. Being able to move around the city undetected came in handy on numerous occasions.
There were also those, from both the gangs and the merchers, who tried to curry favor with him. As his influence grew, so too did those who thought they could bribe him. Offers of kruge, deeds to small properties, shares in businesses, Kaz didn’t mind. He objected to being offered sexual favors, and on two separate occasions, the indenture for a Suli girl. People assumed he had tastes that ran a certain way. Even though he was always mindful of how he acted around Inej in public. He didn’t bother to contain his contempt for the indenture offers. Though he did get both of the Suli girls out of Ketterdam and back to Ravka on The Wraith with Inej’s help. Her absolute rage resulted in both of the men who held the indentures finding themselves hanging naked by their ankles off the Zentsbridge, with notes pinned to their sensitive bits courtesy of Kaz’s gloved hands. It felt glorious to deliver justice by Inej’s side, to work with her again. As much as he hated why they’d needed to deliver said justice, he rode a high of satisfaction after each incident. People stopped offering Kaz indentures after the second man was rescued by the Stadwatch. Neither skiv was dumb enough to implicate Inej or Kaz to the authorities. His warnings of the consequences might have aided that.
There was an uneasy peace in the Barrel for a while, as each gang learned repeatedly that Kaz and the Dregs would give no quarter or mercy. Especially if anyone was caught badmouthing the Wraith, Captain Ghafa, or saying the word ‘whore’ in reference to either. ‘Dirtyhands’ whore’ was worse. Anika, who had a grudging respect for Inej’s role as Captain Ghafa, developed a penchant for swinging a spiked club into the offender's crotches. Rotty winced as he reported Anika’s tactics, and Kaz just smirked. One particularly nasty skiv lost his tongue after he’d switched it up and said ‘Brekker’s Suli slut’. Kaz personally saw to that one in a rather public fashion late one night. He hadn’t even needed to channel Dirtyhands, he’d been so livid. There was both frustration, and fury, that people assumed a sex life he and Inej didn’t currently share. That anyone would dare refer to her that way, even if they’d been sharing that intimacy, made his blood boil. The moratorium on pejoratives began to extend to any crew member who had worked in the skin trade. The other gangs learned to keep the words ‘whore’ and the like out of their mouths around the Dregs.
Kaz also ensured that Tante Heleen went bankrupt. The Menagerie's business had taken the hit of the false plague hard. Heleen thought she'd be able to make a comeback, but her every move was thwarted by Kaz’s machinations. He used his influence and intel to antagonize the Peacock. Eventually, she gave up trying to reopen her brothel in the Barrel, and Kaz secured the freedom of all of her indentures. Most wanted to leave Ketterdam, but some stayed, and two even joined the Dregs. Heleen was currently attempting to open a brothel in Zierfoort, but her permits kept being blocked, and one of her investors had backed out recently. Roeder wasn’t as good a spider as the Wraith, but he kept trying to prove his worth to Kaz. His trips south had gathered up enough intel to tie up Heleen's plans indefinitely. Kaz wrote little snippets of ‘the fate of the Peacock’ in his letters to Inej.
One night, just before Inej would be docking again, he set some carefully designed explosives to blow the gilded cage facade off of the abandoned Menagerie. Wylan had agreed to supply him the charges when Kaz had admitted what they were for, but he’d then sworn the merchling to secrecy. The damage left the surrounding buildings untouched. Kaz had waited until Heleen was occupied down in Zierfoort. The property owner might assume she’d destroyed the Menagerie building to get out of back rent. Or that it had been targeted because of her. Either way, the building would need to be demolished. It was all another brick in the revenge he’d been wreaking on Heleen. Inej hadn’t ever asked or spoken with him about revenge on the clients that had harmed her. That was something he wouldn’t move on without her specific sanction. Heleen was another matter. He wouldn’t kill her without Inej’s assent, but making her life hell was just good business, the way he saw it. Kaz didn’t send word of the destruction of the facade to Inej; he let her hear of it, see it for herself as she came through the Barrel after she’d docked.
When she burst into his window and asked him if he was responsible, he shrugged and said the facade had annoyed him. Inej looked fierce, beautiful, and damp. It was raining and gray outside, and still, she was like a sunbeam standing in his attic office. She stared at him, her face a mixture of amusement and consternation, and then asked if she could hug him. Kaz nodded, though he was nervous that he’d have a bad reaction since she was wet from the rain. Fortunately, his body and brain cooperated, and the embrace warmed him to the bone. Unable to explain to her that he wanted to give her so much more than he was capable of, he just held her for a few moments while she said ‘thank you’ into his waistcoat. He managed to say ‘you’re welcome’, and her laugh vibrated through him. His heart did a damn jig in his chest. When Inej stepped back, Kaz lost all words. Her laugh, her gratitude, and the satisfied gleam in her eyes overwhelmed him. She searched his face, and he just gazed down at her, his traitorous mouth useless. ‘At least you remembered how to say those words.’ Kaz nodded again, and gave her a sly smile. She shook her head at him, and took her leave to return to the Van Eck mansion, saying she had to tell the boys. Wylan had kept the secret well. Jesper tried literally patting him on the back for the deed later. Kaz almost decked him, but stopped himself in time.
Slowly, but surely, he started laying the groundwork to change the very nature of the Barrel itself. He began to orchestrate for the Dregs to operate all of their clubs without indentures wherever possible. His long term plans were to show the other gangs and the Merchant Council that not only could this be done, it could be more profitable. And it was turning out to be rather profitable for him and the Dregs indeed. Here, Inej’s motivations and his greed aligned. Able to turn their profits into better pay, and coverage for taxes on all of the Dregs properties, he was legitimizing all of their businesses. Kaz endeavored to ensure the right kind of attention was garnered for his empire, and for all of the Dregs’ holdings. He reveled in the mythology that had grown up around The Wraith, Captain Ghafa, and her ‘bloodthirsty’ crew, and kept reinforcing the idea that slavery was becoming less profitable in every manner.
He monitored the Merchant Council members, using Roeder and a few other spiders to make sure he knew about every speck of bonedust in the mercher’s closets. Every mistress and sex slave, every shady deal, every horrible secret. There were some ties to slavers going on with both Council members Van Verent and Torben, but they needed more proof before they’d be able to move on either. Jan Van Eck was still rotting in Hellgate. Kaz occasionally arranged for horrid surprises for the man, like bed bugs, spoiled food, or a week without latrine services. He even managed to get Van Eck a cellmate who had a penchant for abusing his fellow inmates. Last he'd heard from Hellgate, Jan had suffered two broken tibias. The mercher scum should never have threatened Inej. Wylan actually thanked him shyly at one point, when the merchling got a report about his father being in the infirmary. Kaz simply said ‘Thank me with more intel on the Merchant Council.’ He fed as much information to Inej as he could on mercher deals that might be tied to illegal activity. Her vision for change had become his.
As time wore on, Kaz thought he needed to change his own nature like he was changing the Barrel. It seemed as though half of his life had been spent building up walls, avoiding touch, avoiding connection. Holding even those he cared about at a distance. Sometimes it felt as if there were no place in Ketterdam he couldn't get into, no lock in the world that he couldn't pick; except for his own heart, except for the mental safe vaults that he kept shoving things into. Like his complicated thoughts about Jesper. His secret need to see Wylan succeed. His grief over Matthias. Even missing taunts with Nina got placed in a vault. And all of his tumultuous feelings for Inej that kept escaping. After nearly a year of stops and starts, of strained visits, he wondered if Inej still saw anything in him worth waiting for. Worth coming back to. He always made sure he had more intel for her. If he couldn’t figure out giving himself to her without armor, at least he could be useful for her mission. Falling back on pragmatism was second nature, and easier for him than optimism.
Inej deserved better than he could offer, said unkind voices in his head. And sometimes Jesper’s voice, in angry tones in person, on the rare occasions Kaz visited the mansion. Telling him to stop giving Inej mixed signals. 'Figure your shit out, Kaz.’ He desperately wanted to. Every way he’d examined the problem so far hadn’t helped. It felt as though he’d made no progress. Eventually, he started to think about his issues and the problem of solving them like any other heist. If he could look at it analytically, maybe it would be easier to solve. Emotions and touch were not math, but perhaps they were closer to sleight of hand. He just needed to figure out the trick. How to unlock the frozen things inside of his heart and his mind. There was no magic he couldn’t figure out. Except possibly Inej. She was a magic all her own. A magic that often rendered him speechless, even as it inspired him.
The biggest hurdle that he saw first was touch, and his reactions to it. Maybe if he could unlock touch, the rest of the tumblers would line up and fall into place. Years back, he’d thought a minor flirtation with a girl named Imogen was worth attempting physical contact. It had failed spectacularly, getting him a beatdown when he’d passed out on a job because he wasn’t wearing his gloves. It had even set him back in the Dregs for a bit. After that, he’d doubled down on not letting anyone touch him. He’d given himself over to rage, to violence. Kaz let himself be the monster, and the monster kept him safe. As safe as he could be in the Barrel, at least. He’d stopped thinking of touch, comfort, or flirtations, as options available to him.
Inej wasn’t simply a flirtation; she was much more important to him. He wouldn’t have been able to explain it to her, or anyone. He couldn’t explain it to himself. But her smile, her approval, her joy, meant more to him than his own existence. Because of this, he was trying again. Opening himself up to the yawning chasm of the harbor full of corpses ready to drown him. With Inej, he’d managed contact without his gloves with mixed results. The day he’d presented her with The Wraith, and met her parents, he’d managed to be bare handed for hours. But on her most recent visit, her touch had sent him into the waters so fast he’d nearly vomited. It was mortifying. She’d left, and though she’d told him to take care of himself, he’d been sure she was disgusted with him. Even now, when he thought of it, his own fear tore at him, dead hands trying to pull him under. But hadn’t he faced and conquered so many of his fears? Would he let this one best him? ‘It’s bested you for half your life’, said an unkind voice. Lying awake at night, he started running through scenarios in his head. Imagining a hundred different ways to conquer this weakness he despised. Examining what had worked for them, and what had triggered his failures. There had to be a rhyme and a reason. A way to trick his body and his brain into being under his own command. There’s no trick I can’t pick apart and learn.
Touching his own dry skin generally wasn’t a problem, but he’d long limited it to necessities. If he concentrated on Inej’s warmth when touching her, he did better. If she was talking, her voice could help ground him, or pull him back out. Cold and wet were bad. He sometimes had issues touching himself when wet, and other people's cool or wet skin was right out. Showers were generally fine, especially as hot as he could stand. Baths were problematic, and he couldn’t tolerate a cold tub of water. When his bad leg refused to go down the stairs for the shower at the Slat, he gave in and used washcloths to clean up. He really ought to spend the damn kruge and get the rest of the hot water taps he’d promised himself installed. There was currently only hot water in the kitchen, and the two showers in the Slat.
Whenever his bare skin got wet and chilled, he wanted to get warm and dry again, before the revulsion set in. He despised being caught in the rain without layers. Kaz remembered swimming as a kid; he and Jordie used to go down to the creek that bordered one edge of their farm, and cool off in the summers. Ever since Jordie died, Kaz only swam out of necessity. He still had occasional nightmares about the ice river in Djerholm. Coming to, covered in wet clothes, being manhandled by Nina, had been a personal horror. The adrenaline and need to keep moving had kept his issues at bay then, thankfully.
The main exception to wet skin he’d found was masturbation. He’d learned a long time ago that denying himself release led to untenable discomfort and aggravation. The desires were definitely there, shoved aside, but not negated. He gave himself that pleasure that he refused from anyone else. Often with haste, and it was better with something, like saliva, to reduce friction. His own bodily fluids neatly circumvented the wet skin issue somehow. He could deal with his own blood and more just fine. Kaz had been injured so many times that he’d learned how to stitch and tend to his own wounds, because he often couldn’t stand to have someone else do it. Taking care of himself, be it first aid or masturbating, was often out of sheer need.
Kaz had, with a fraction of guilt, been picturing Inej sometimes when he sought release. He didn’t want to lust after her in an unseemly fashion, or be at all like the clients who had made her life hell. But Inej featured in his dreams, his fantasies, and in so many of his cravings that it was inescapable. There were other images, other fantasies, but none were as prevalent as Inej. She’d expressed her desire for him in certain words and actions over the last year. Unless he’d completely misread all of her signals, but he was reasonably certain he hadn’t. Kaz knew the mechanics of sex; it was inescapable having grown up on a farm and then in the Barrel. He had an understanding of what he could try to offer up physically, even if he wasn’t there yet. But he hadn’t a clue of what Inej might be able to handle after what she’d been through at the Menagerie. What would make her feel safe, what would make her happy. Realizing that her pleasure was more important to him than his own, he knew he’d want to concentrate on that. He felt the need to tread carefully; the last thing he wanted was to bring up her bad memories. Casual affection was something he wanted to be able to provide. So he set out to build his tolerance for touch and contact in general.
It began slowly. As Kaz undressed before bed, he tried running his bare hands along his torso. At first, it was simple. Fingertips against his ribs, palms smoothed down his sides. Exploring his own scars, of which there were many. When the fear rose like a striking enemy, he tried to face it head on. The phrase, ‘I can best this’, became a mantra of sorts. He practiced giving himself hugs, wrapping his arms around his ribcage. As time went by, he pushed his own limits, kept up the contact until it got to be too much. Some nights, the water came for him all too quickly. Occasionally, he got nauseous or dizzy. Other nights, he could touch from top to tip and back. He discovered he was still ticklish, much to his chagrin. Firm touch was better. He’d been massaging his bad leg for years, but usually through cloth. Now he practiced in the morning on his bare skin, being careful of the scar tissue on his thigh over the old break.
Eventually, Kaz started imagining Inej’s hands on him. What would it be like, to invite her fingers to his skin? Just her hands on his had been intense. After so many years in the gloves, his hands were incredibly sensitive. It helped with picking locks, dealing cards, and sleight of hand. It also meant the slightest caress of her fingers made his mind misfire and his knees lose all structural integrity. When he thought about her hands touching all of him, uncontrolled, the fear came roaring back. Maybe if he could try being more physical with Inej without her being able to touch him, but that seemed possibly unfair. As upset as he was at his own problems, he was even more worried about Inej. How dare he want to touch her, but not offer to let her do the same? Would she even accept that, after what she’d been through? Wasn’t that keeping some armor in place? He didn’t have the answers, but he needed them. And in the meantime, he would keep practicing, trying to desensitize the reactions that brought the waters and demons of his past forward.
Kaz wouldn’t later be able to pinpoint when the change in his way of private references to Inej had taken place. As much as he refused to lay any claims on her, didn’t want to be possessive of her, in his heart, she was now ‘my Wraith’. Their relationship was intricately interwoven with his life. Even if he hadn’t a clue how to identify what he was to her. Even if she was out at sea more often than not. Even if he refused to entangle her to him. He found when he thought the words ‘my Wraith’, they had a different weight. It was a firm touch, a warm sunbeam after rain, a heavy blanket on a cold night. It was the surety of how he knew he could trust her. Even with his weakness. The calm her voice could bring him. The joy of her laugh. And it was the safest thing he could think of to refer to her as in his head. Not sure what terms of endearment would be triggers for her, what things had been said to her in the Menagerie that might be problematic. Not sure that Kerch terms would go over well. Kaz knew no one would call her ‘Wraith’ like he meant it now. It became synonymous with his caring for her, carrying the value of everything she meant to him. He kept this entirely to himself, not daring to presume out loud. Until they figured out more, until he sorted out his issues, Inej didn’t need to hear him go from calling her an ‘investment' to ‘his’ anything. He did enjoy calling her Captain Ghafa, though. And the light in her eyes when he uttered that honorific stayed with him, even when she sailed off.