Chapter Text
That damn letter. She knew things she couldn't have. About him, about Jordie, about his father and mother. Kaz tried to remember every small detail about his life before his brother died, every single memory he had forcefully tossed away, everything that was related to his old self.
How the hell could she know? She had made him question his sanity - at least what was left from it. He wanted to know who she was, what she knew, what she wanted... And he wanted to kill her. She knew too much. If she were to simply give away such information, she could throw the reputation he had strenuously built off a cliff. Miss Freya would have a lot of explaining to do.
I must find her. He was thinking to himself ever since he had read the letter. Though he felt like everything around him was spinning, he wouldn't stop until he got rid of her.
Why? Why her, why now, just why? The thought was lingering in his mind dizzying him, blurring his vision while he was strolling along the streets of the Barrel. And then it came to him. She was Freya, that girl his brother had told him, "like a sister but not quite" he had said. That girl who would made them waffles with fruit every Sunday morning and put extra syrup without their mother knowing. Kaz could not bring himself to remember her, he must have been too little, but Jordie did and that was more than enough. For a split moment he though he was not all alone in this world. It was horrifying. He quickly shook that thought out of his head and picked up his pace.
His eyes were wandering around the streets searching for her even though it was unlikely that he recognise her. He didn't even remember her. It was strange... According to Jordie she wasn't much older that him hence she must have left the farm when she was a teenager. He needed too many answers. I could have made a mile-long list, he almost whispered.
He was passing through crowds, scanning every face, every figure. His eyes eventually landed on a girl sitting on the sidewalk singing with her guitar. She seemed familiar. She had his father's eyes and hair color and some of her expressions reminded Kaz of him. She must have been in her late twenties or early thirties. Kaz then realised he was staring hard at her for more that a few minutes. He may as well ask her name or something, it was better that nothing.
Slowly and discreetly he approached her, and as he did, the small crowd surrounding her dispersed, shooting him concerned glances. He then looked at her intently and moved right in front of her.
"What the hell, dude?" she shouted angrily at Kaz while setting aside her guitar. "I had a damn good audience tonight and I was hoping for some money, now who's going to pay me? You? Don't think so", she glared.
"What is your name?" Kaz asked coldly.
"Around here I'm known as Medusa"
"Smart, but your other one"
"Freya Heida Rietveld. What's yours?"
"I am Kaz Brekker, around here I'm known as Dirtyhands."
"That was not a good start", she stated awkwardly, "I did not realise it was you"
"So you know me"
"Oh please, I have been trying to learn about you for over six months but you are just too careful"
"Why was that?" he asked in a flat tone.
"Let's say you have sparked quite an interest"
"And"
"And I think you are someone I know"
"Am I?" his sarcasm was on point.
"You are the only one who can confirm, darling," she was now smiling and looking at him playfully as if she was flirting, but she was most likely just trying to get him to disclose something, "and considering that you came to find me, my guess is that you are who I thought you to be"
"And who do you think I am, if I may?"
"Well off course you may. But it would save us time if you just read the letter I sent, wouldn't it?" She is being annoying. On purpose.
"Why are you being difficult? Weren't you the one who sent me a letter about your tragic life story?"
"Sweetheart, I am difficult and yes I sent you a letter but I wouldn't use the word tragic to describe my life story."
"I could not care less" he fucking did care but why the hell is she like that?
"You care well enough to come talk"
"That is because it is unusual to be sent such letters" he said calmly while desperately trying to maintain his composure. Freya was almost as sarcastic as he was and that was getting on Kaz's nerves.
"Of course it is. And you are not the only one that wants answers. So, are you Kaz Rietveld or no?"
Damn. Too straightforward. "Even if I am, why do you want to find out?" he had to avoid that, at least for now, at all costs, it would be too reckless of him to expose himself.
"Here we go again... You may be my nephew, as I have well explained in my very detailed letter, and I would like to know what happened to my beloved brother, his beloved wife and their beloved children." her face had turned serious and she suddenly looked tired and desperate to have that information.
"If you loved your brother and his family so much, how come you don't know?" counter question, information needed and most importantly not giving away himself.
"I... I needed to work, left home..." her voice cracked "lost contact" she sobbed "then lost everything" she sobbed again "went back home but they were all gone, disappeared without a trace" she said blandly as her eyes were swelling with tears she was fighting to suppress.
"Tragic life story, as I said" he looked at her with an expression he couldn't even recognise. Pathetic, he thought to himself. "Well, nothing will change now, they are all dead." he stated in a flat apathetic tone.
"What happened to them?" she naturally asked him, her voice weak and trembling.
"My guess is plague." He was not wrong, in a way.
"So you don't know..." she whispered bitterly.
"I cannot help you" he still held his composure, "but, may I ask, do you have any talent?" he regretted saying that, yet he wanted to keep her around, he wanted to know if it was really his aunt...and deep down he may have wanted to give her some sort of closure.
"I write songs, I sing, play guitar... I can aim well... I know how to treat wounds... I can fight a man if I have to" she responded without understanding what he meant.
"You can aim with a gun?" he asked simply, wanting to clarify to himself what she was talking about.
"They say I do better that the average guy" she said hesitantly raising her shoulders as if what she said was the most common thing in the world.
"That's g-" he didn't even finish his phrase when a guy tried to lunge at him from the alley.
For half a second he thought it was a trap, but before the guy had reached him, Medusa was standing right in front of him pointing a gun at the guys chest.