Dirty Hands (Kaz Brekker One Shots)

The Dancer

The first time Kaz saw you, you were dancing. He remembered that day very well; he was certain he had never seen anyone that fitted so well Inej's descriptions of angels in his condemned life.

The soft rustle of the fabrics covering your skin got lost in the ruckus of music and drunk laughter filling the Menagerie —one could even feel the noise trying to escape to the busy streets through the open windows that prevented the guests from passing out on their tables. Yet their ethereal flow and cadence, following your every move, were more than enough to bring all piercing gazes your way.

Kaz was almost impressed by your robotic determination to continue your routine. To him, and despite its decent width, the stone stage and its closeness to the occupied tables felt suffocating... Although he was aware that the alternative was worse. He hadn't seen them —the scars hidden under the exotic fabrics and chains—, but he had listened intently to Inej on those nights she recounted her experiences in the birdcage.

The thought of Heleen's door closing behind your back; of her hands daring to touch you. He let his gaze fall to the stone floor and gripped the silver head of his cane tightly.

Once upon a time he found Inej in there, his most trusted protector and friend, and that night he had come back with the intention of fulfilling his promise to her, even if he had to lose it all on the way. He had assured the Suli woman her freedom, and the contract he carried in the chest pocket of his buttoned jacket guaranteed his success.

He hadn't expected to find you there, however.

And the truth was that, if anyone had asked him why he would do that, or what he had seen in you, he wouldn't even know what to say. Yet, despite not knowing you, he found his determination wavering as he unconsciously pondered the idea of somehow trying to include you in his plans.

Would you even agree to come with him if he so suggested?

The relentless rhythm of the music came to a sudden stop, and for a second there was nothing, as if the room itself held its breath to hear the clinking of the golden chains falling into place. Kaz' eyes shot up in time to take in the scene: you looked so broken, so delicate, as if the wind itself could take you away given the opportunity. Your heavenliness stood out too much in that forsaken city, in that sinkhole.

One second, two, then the uproar returned with even higher intensity. The cheers and whistles, the requests for more... Kaz furrowed his eyebrows as he watched you bow in acknowledgement of the intoxicated appreciation, dark strands of hair cascading down to cover your face. He recognized the sadness behind your eyes all too well, and a part of him wished to step forward and use his thick leather coat to protect your exposed skin from the oily hands of the dockworkers.

"Careful, Mr. Brekker," Heleen's voice suddenly warned, and he turned to the side to stare at her as she leaned against the arch frame next to him with a sly smirk, "you're already on your way to a debt with this establishment."