and when i break (it's in a million pieces) - a kanej fic

Part 3

Present day:

As late afternoon slipped into dusk, the sun playing hideaway with the jagged spires and rooftops of the city, Inej made her way through the bustling streets.

Her dark blue hood was pulled halfheartedly over her head, but no one in the crowds gave her so much as a second thought. That was the great thing about Ketterdam, she supposed, the world changed -- fell apart and came together again -- but the city never slept. Her eyes scanned the crowded markets and sidestreets, each inch of space filled with a vendor peddling his wares, a tavern, or a side act. She caught the parting of coin between clever pickpockets and pigeons more than a few times. Inej felt her lips slip into a smile.

Maybe the world didn't change so much after all.

Suddenly, she spotted a flash of black hair and heard the soft click of a cane on cobblestone, and her heart stuttered to a stop. Without the consent of her senses, Inej's feet dragged her sideways through the crowd -- racing towards the stranger. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Inej knew that the stranger was not who she wanted him to be. She knew that it was impossible. But her stubborn heart failed to give up belief. She'd spent too many years praying to Saints that rarely answered to be deterred by the notion of reality.

She tracked him through the crowds. His gait was uneven with the assistance of the walking cane, but it wasn't the right rhythm. The stranger didn't walk with the same purpose. She knew that. She knew the truth. But when he turned at some standout noise in the crowd, and his face was round instead of sharp, his eyes sky blue instead of bitter coffee, Inej felt her heart hollow in her chest.

It wasn't him. She'd known it wasn't him. But even still, she'd wanted it to be. She'd needed it to be.

And all at once, the crowd was too much.

Inej felt her throat constrict and thought dimly that she might be having a panic attack. She was going to be sick.

She began to shove her way through the crowd with reckless abandon, not caring who she caught with the blade of her shoulder, only knowing that she needed to get out, out, out. Ignoring the cries of surprise and indignation, Inej pushed her way through until she was spat out into a dingy alley.

She pushed past a man swimming deep in drink, judging by the sharp scent of whiskey emanating from his clothes, and sprinted to the back of the alley, skidding to a stop at the weathered brick wall cutting off her route of escape.

Inhaling deeply, she dug her fingers into a chipped piece of brick and began to climb. She scaled the wall, gripping each crack and crevice as tears blurred her vision. Dragging herself over the ledge, she collapsed onto the roof, curled beside a long-forgotten collection of rotting wooden barrels.

Inej stared up at the darkening sky and tried to remember how to breathe.

She'd been doing so well. After five years, she'd hoped that the pain would've dulled enough to let her live. It had taken her two years to return to Ketterdam, three before she could stand to walk the lower streets again.

She didn't cry, she wouldn't let herself.

Suddenly, Inej smelled the warm, overlapping scent of coffee grounds and baking bread, and the memories began to rise around her, a rip current in a stormy sea. She knew it was a bad idea, knew that she'd end up more hurt than anything. She knew that it would exacerbate the grief. She knew.

But she was so tired of fighting her own mind.

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