#and explains some of why Spydad is the way he is

[kellanved-ammanas]

TF2 Drabbles: SpyDad - Tricks

Summary: scout doing tricks on his skateboard for some merc pals watching, and either soldier or sniper or spy try to do a trick but land flat on their faces, or scout tries to do a trick and lands flat on his face, either way blood noses all around

~

Despite being old and sometimes crotchety, Spy picked up the skateboarding basics fast enough that Scout was actually kind of proud of him. Even if he did look kind of funny while doing it in his fancy suit, the opposite of the kind of thing skateboarders usually wore. Why he’d agreed to it was still a mystery but Scout wasn’t going to question it especially since being the better skater for once meant he got to be the teacher. A role he was taking very seriously… sort of.

“Now check this out,” he said as he pushed off. Once he got enough speed he pressed down on the board, jumping it up and flipping it. He landed on it perfectly, not even a little bit of a wobble because he was just that good. “Cool, right?”

“Yes, very impressive.” Spy didn’t sound particularly impressed.

“Why don’t you try it?” And then he’d see just how impressive it truly was.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Ah, c’mon. You got the basics down pretty good which is great but the whole point is to do cool tricks and stuff. So you gotta try doing a trick eventually.” As he spoke Scout did it again, showing off his ability to talk and do cool tricks at the same time. Yeah, sure, it was one of the easier tricks but it was still cool.

“Fine. I’ll try it. Explain to me how to do it.”

Scout wasn’t great at explaining things but he did his best anyway, demonstrating multiple times while he did so. Spy had him explain it three time before trying it himself. Unsurprisingly he failed the first few times, not even getting the board completely off the ground, let alone flipping it. When he did finally get it in the air though, he lost his balance as he landed, ending up falling to the ground in an inelegant tumble.

“Ow,” he said without even getting up.

Scout couldn’t help himself, he burst into laughter. There was nothing funnier than watching someone take a goofy tumble to the ground.

Spy pushed himself up to glare at him. “It’s not funny.”

“You’re right, it’s fucking hilarious.” Despite that, Scout reigned himself in as he walked over and offer a hand to help him stand.

He glared it for a second or two before accepting it. Once on his feet, he disdainfully brushed himself off.

“Don’t worry, falling happens sometimes. We can’t all be skateboarding gods like me.” Not that Scout hadn’t fallen a whole lot back when he’d been learning but Spy hadn’t been there and thus didn’t know that.

“Do you know any tricks other than that one?”

“Yeah, totally. I know lots of tricks.” Maybe ‘lots’ was a bit of an exaggeration but he did know a few he was good at.

“All right. Show me your coolest one.”

It was a weird topic shift but Scout wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to show off. “All right, follow me.” He returned to his board and pushed off, trusting Spy to follow either on foot or on his own borrowed board.

The base had one stairway with a railing. Knowing he might get a chance to show off, Scout had brought Spy out to practice only a short distance from it. He beelined for it now.

Once there, he paused only long enough to make sure Spy stayed caught up – he’d chosen to walk like the old man he was – before starting again. He jumped the board, landing on the railing to grind down it. It was a stereotypical move but it was still badass.

Except he only made it about halfway down the rail before his balance wobbled and failed. He tumbled the rest of the way down the stairs. His pride took the hardest hit but it hurt quite a bit physically too.

Now it was Spy’s turn to burst out laughing, adding a sting to the wound. Bastard!

“Aren’t you supposed to be like worried and ask if I’m okay?” Scout said as he pushed himself up to glare at Spy. That’s how dads were supposed to act when they watched their son take a hard tumble, right?

Spy stopped laughing. “Are you seriously injured?”

“I think my nose might be broke.” It certainly hurt and was dripping blood.

“So, ‘no’, then. In which case, ha!” He pointed and laughed again.

“You asshole! You told me to show off because you were hoping I’d fall so you could laugh at me.” And Scout kind of deserved it because he’d laughed at Spy falling first so he couldn’t even be as mad as he wanted to be.

Finally at least done laughing now, Spy started down the stairs. “Correct. I recommend trying to be at least a little less easy to manipulate. Think more about people’s motives when they encourage you to do something, especially if they have reason to be unhappy with you.” Upon reaching the bottom he offered a hand to help Scout stand.

Scout begrudgingly accepted it. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He bent down to gather up his board, thankfully unharmed.

“Now, I suppose let’s get you to Medic to get that nose taken care of.”

Scout had no objections to that so he let Spy lead him away. He was going to have to practice rail grinding more later though so he could rub it in Spy’s face.

[keldae]

Inheritance

So Xaja traditionally uses blue lightsabers, and used blue (or in some rare cases, purple or teal) crystals all the way from inception as a wee baby non-specific-class Knight until somewhere around KOTET when I scored white crystals out of a cartel market drop. I naturally screeched in joy and promptly equipped them on Xaja, and then decided I needed a story for how she went from blue to white ‘sabers. It’s also been canon for her since her forum RP days that her blue sabers were her mother’s. On that note...

The Star Fortress above Voss was a slaughterhouse, and the Alliance strike team still wasn’t in the clear to escape yet. The Exarch wasn’t willing to go down without a fight, especially not with the feared and hated Outlander facing off against him.

Xaja spun her twin blades in a challenging manner as the sun reactor started to erupt behind her, blue light reflecting off her armour. “Oh yes, I can definitely see how you got put in charge of this station,” she tauntingly called to the Exarch. “You spent the last hour bravely running away from me. Truly exemplary of your people, really.” Beside her, Nico Okarr rolled his eyes under his wide-brimmed hat. The smuggler, after having run through two other Star Fortresses with the Commander (and Lana in tow, with Theron’s running commentary in their comms), wasn’t startled by Xaja’s increasingly-creative taunts to the Zakuulans, although Xaja had a suspicion he was considering expanding her vocabulary of insults.

The Exarch snarled. “I’ll throw your corpse back in carbonite myself, Outlander.” He leaped at the Alliance team, polesaber swinging out in a wide, golden arc. Xaja heard the sounds of Lana’s lightsaber swinging to her left, and Nico’s blasters firing to her right as she went low, darting under the Exarch’s swing and slashing at his legs. The benefit to being small was being a very difficult target to hit.

She whirled around and darted backward as the Exarch lunged at her again, just barely staying out of his blade-range. Her tactic of letting the enemy tire themselves out trying to hit her was not working today, much to her annoyance. Calling on the Force, she leaped overhead as Lana threw lightning at him, striking from on high. If she could land a hit on his shoulders or neck --

The Exarch swung upward, and there was an explosion of blue light as his blade slashed through the emitter ends of her lightsabers. Xaja cried out in dismay as she fell and rolled out of harm’s way; the Exarch’s attempt to lunge at her was interrupted by Nico shooting a stream of bolts at him, forcing his attention to the smuggler. It bought Xaja a moment to stare in horror at the destroyed lightsabers. She had carried those weapons for years, ever since she had escaped Vitiate’s battle station and found the weapons in her private quarters on the Serenity, a welcome replacement for the Sith weapons she had been forced to carry (and after learning that her father had infiltrated the station to help her escape, she suspected he was the one who had left the lightsabers on her ship). These were Mom’s, she silently cried -- the only items she had of her long-deceased mother. And now they were little more than silvery, sparking paperweights…

“Commander!” Lana shouted over the noises of battle, drawing Xaja’s attention back to the danger at hand. She shot upright and whirled in time to catch the Sith’s thrown lightsaber, barely having the time to clip her ruined lightsabers to her belt. Lana’s weapon felt strange in her hand, too large and oddly-shaped, but it would serve for the current fight. She lunged back into the fray as Lana bolted out of blade range, relying on lightning to attack and defend. Fury made Xaja’s attacks harder and faster as she swapped into Juyo form, determined to make the Exarch pay for destroying her mother’s lightsabers.

The trio had barely made it back to Miot’s shuttle before the Star Fortress imploded from within. Xaja jumped aboard as Theron grabbed her arm to help her up, aware of Lana leaping beside her, Nico hauling ass behind both of them. The shuttle door closed, and then Miot was gunning it away from the exploding station.

Xaja sagged into a chair as the shuttle jumped to hyperspace, holding up Lana’s lightsaber as the Sith walked past. “Thanks,” she quietly said.

“Of course,” Lana answered as she accepted her lightsaber back. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Xaja, but red certainly isn’t your colour.”

Xaja managed a tight smile at the blonde; as Lana walked away, the Jedi pulled her own lightsabers off her belt, turning them over in her hands. Any hope that she might be able to repair the weapons was squashed as she examined the damage, feeling her heart break as she did. The Exarch had completely destroyed the emitter ends of her weapons, ruining the inner components of the lightsabers, including -- Xaja carefully pulled one panel away with the Force and felt her shoulders slump. The bright blue crystal within had shattered, and she would have bet her own ship that the other crystal had suffered the same damage. Her mother’s lightsabers were beyond repair.

A pair of larger hands gently settled on her wrists, rotating them so the damage could be more easily seen. Theron lowly whistled at the damage to the lightsabers; even he could see that there was no fixing these weapons. “It could have been worse,” he murmured against Xaja’s forehead as he leaned in to kiss her brow. “It could have been you instead. These… They’re just lightsabers. They can be replaced.”

Xaja shook her head in denial of Theron’s well-intentioned words, feeling her throat tighten with grief. “They were all I had of my mother,” she whispered, blinking away the tears pooling in her eyes. One escaped her lashes anyway; she swiped at it in frustration. “Stupid, being upset over lightsabers,” she muttered.

“They were your mom’s? Oh, no...” Theron’s hands shifted to pull Xaja into a hug. “I’m sorry, Xaja. I didn’t know…” He tilted his head to kiss her cheek. “Yeah, you’re right, these can’t be replaced. I’m still relieved you’re okay, at least.”

She buried her face in his shoulder and let him hold her as she tried to force down the pain. They’re just weapons, they’re just lightsabers… They’re just the only thing you had to connect you to your mother. And now the only link she had to her mother, besides the stories that her dad and brothers had, was severed.

“Oh, honey.” Reanden wrapped Xaja in a tight hug, almost entirely keeping her from trembling against him. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I know those meant the world to you.”

“They’re irreplaceable,” Xaja mumbled, looking to the side where her mother’s destroyed lightsabers rested on a table, a sorry-looking wreck. She rested her head against her father’s shoulder, feeling the most despondent she’d been since Lana had told her she’d lost five years of her life. “And they’re unrepairable. Even if the crystals weren’t damaged, everything else…”

Reanden sighed heavily; Xaja felt a kiss dropped into her hair. “If it means anything, little one, your mother would have destroyed those lightsabers herself if it meant protecting you. You’re worth more than any weapon -- all three of you are.” He shifted his weight slightly, and Xaja frowned as she sensed a tendril of old anger and grief drifting from her father’s mind before he shielded his thoughts again. “As far as I’m aware, she had her saber-staff damaged while she was trying to protect your brother.”

Xaja nodded in acknowledgement of his words before she frowned again. “Mom had a saber-staff?”

“You didn’t know that? She initially trained with that, and it was always her preferred style. She mostly learned the dual-saber style on a dare from her cousin on Corellia.”

“Oh.” Xaja’s frown eased as she absorbed this new information. “Nobody told me that. I know almost nothing about her besides what you and the boys told me.” She sighed, her thin shoulders dropping. “Those lightsabers were all I’ve ever had of her…”

“Wait, what?” Reanden pulled back from the hug, brow creased in a frown. “What do you mean, they’re all you had of your mother? Did the Green Jedi not have anything of hers to give to you?” When Xaja shook her head, the old spy sighed in disappointed frustration. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I didn’t know you had nothing else of hers. I never thought…”

Xaja took a breath that was only a little bit shaky and shook her head. “Dad, it’s okay. It’s not like I have memories of her anyway --”

“No, it’s kriffing not okay, and the fact that you were too young to remember her doesn’t make it any better.” Reanden scowled into the air over Xaja’s head. “There has to be something at the old house still… Give me a bit and I’ll see if I can find anything. You deserve to have something of your mother’s.”

It was perhaps a week later when Reanden walked into the command centre, looking around as though to satisfy himself that it was mostly empty. Theron watched out of the corner of his eye as he and Lana continued going over the data that Hylo’s people had brought in, looking for any news of note.

The younger spy straightened up as the elder approached and rested his hands on the back of the chair. “How busy are you two?” he asked without any preamble.

“Good morning, Cipher,” Theron answered, rolling his eyes. “Yes, my morning’s going well, thanks for --”

“Yes, the entire Alliance heard how well your morning started,” Reanden interrupted, dark eyes flashing dangerously enough that even Theron could recognize the cue to shut up before he got stabbed (like it was Theron’s fault that his morning started with Xaja waking him up in a very enjoyable manner!). “How urgently busy are you two right now?”

Lana kicked Theron under the table before he could snark something else at the older spy. “We still need to finish sorting this data and finding out what’s relevant for the Alliance. This all came in late last night, and we’re perhaps halfway through it all.”

Reanden glanced over the datapads and sheafs of flimsi scattered across the table. “You can delegate this to someone else. I’m going to need you two a little more urgently. Lana, are you able to get through Kaas City without being identified or attacked; and Shan, how good’s your Imperial accent?”

Theron blinked at the unusual questions. “Why do you ask?”

“Humour me, Rookie.”

Annoyance rippled through Theron as he glared at the older spy; when he spoke again, it was with a flawless Kaasian accent. “Quit calling me Rookie, Gramps.”

“I’m already tempted enough to turn you into a throw rug, kid,” Reanden growled.

“Oh, for pity's sake, you two!” Lana irritably snapped. “I can still get through Kaas City with little problem, Cipher. Why do you want to know?”

“Come. I need both of you for something.” Reanden merely turned and marched back out of the war room, the edges of his worn black leatheris jacket fluttering in his wake. Theron looked to the side, exchanged a glance with Lana, then sighed and followed the older spy out of the war room. Whatever this was, it had better be important.

“Does this place ever get anywhere near warm?” Theron muttered under his breath as he walked through a narrow alley in Kaas City. The Imperial officer uniform Reanden had acquired, while it fit him well enough, wasn’t nearly as warm as the spy might have hoped.

“Sith planets tend to be cold. It adds to the misery that fuels them,” Reanden softly responded as he lead Theron and Lana to the end of the alley. “And reminds us lowly Force-blinds of our place in the misery chain.”

“Very funny,” Lana hissed. “What are we doing here again?”

“You’re mostly here to warn us if the Wrath shows his face,” Reanden answered, making Theron’s heart lurch in his chest. “I trust you know what his presence feels like?”

Lana went paler than usual. “Yes, and I wish I didn’t. Why?”

Reanden didn’t answer the question for a long moment. Just when Theron was sure the spy wasn’t going to answer, he quietly spoke. “My wife was one of the most talented blade masters to come out of the Corellian Order -- and that’s not me bragging about her, that was a fact. She initially trained with a saber-staff, but picked up the jar’kai form as an adult, solely so she could have more options in combat. She kept her twin blades on my ship as a backup, but had her saber-staff in our home, and used that to fight Maglion when he attacked my family.”

“So you kept the twin blades and gave them to Xaja later,” Theron said as he started putting the pieces together, “but the saber-staff…?”

“I never found it in the wreckage of the house. Maglion has always liked taking trophies from his kills -- I suppose at that point in his life, he was satisfied with taking Airna’s lightsaber and not desecrating her body.” Reanden’s jaw clenched for a moment before he continued speaking. “The saber-staff is damaged, but I think it may be repairable, and possibly able to be converted into two single-blade lightsabers.”

“You’ve found it?” Lana tilted her head at the older spy.

“I have a contact who thinks he knows where it is.” Reanden nodded to the burly, armoured human man who stepped into the dim light at the end of the alley. “The same person who knows the access codes to the Wrath’s residence.”

Theron stopped dead in his tracks, fear jolting through every vein in his body. “We’re going where?!”

“The asshole keeps his trophies,” Reanden growled. “If my wife’s saber-staff isn’t in Maglion’s residence, it’s on his ship. And I’m not letting him keep that lightsaber when my daughter or one of my sons deserves it more.”

“And any chance to fuck over the Wrath is one I’m game for,” the newcomer piped up. The Imperial soldier worriedly glanced around, then nodded to the trio. “He’s chasing a lead to Imperius’ location in the Onderon system, sir. We move fast enough, you should be in and out before he realizes you’ve even been here.”

“Thank you, Pierce.” Reanden clapped the soldier on his shoulder. “I appreciate your assistance.”

“Just remember your end of the deal, Cipher.” The soldier, apparently named Pierce, glanced suspiciously at Theron and Lana before looking back at Reanden. “He finds out I so much as talked to you, he’ll kill me. Get me into the Alliance, or to Hutt Space, or even the Republic. Just make sure he can’t find me.”

“You leaving the Empire and joining the Alliance will piss him off more than almost anything else.” Reanden’s smile was almost predatory. “You were never here, Major. Welcome to the Alliance.”

Even for a Force-blind man like Theron, the residence of Darth Maglion, Wrath of the Empire, was a terrifying, oppressing place. To judge by Lana’s wincing, it was bad even by normal Sith standards. “Please tell me you can find this trophy case of his fast, Cipher,” the blonde complained. “I can already feel my sanity starting to crack.”

“I thought that was Koth,” Theron tried to joke, and got a glare for his trouble.

“Working on it,” Reanden muttered, not looking up from picking the lock on one of the interior doors. “You know the layout in here at all, Pierce?”

“Not well, sir. The Wrath is... reclusive, doesn’t really socialize.” Pierce shifted uncomfortably. “And people who come here tend to not come back out, sir.”

“Well, we’ll break that streak then.” The lock gave with a click, and Reanden pushed the door open. “You decent at lock-picking, Shan?”

“Enough,” Theron answered as he approached the next door. “... Out of curiosity, how prone is he to rigging traps?”

“Traps have always been my specialty. Brawn and mindless torture have been his forte since he was a child.” Reanden paused before entering the room he had opened. “Unless Quinn taught him a few things --”

“The Wrath? Accept teachings from a Force-blind person?” Pierce snorted. “Day he does that will be the day he signs up to be a Jedi Padawan. Quinn barely came here to start with, and hasn’t been back since Acina picked him up as a minion of her own.”

“And his psychopath in training?”

“Jaesa? Ran off on a killing spree a bit ago while trying to figure out where Vette escaped to -- and I’m sure you had nothin’ to do with that, sir.” Pierce smirked at Reanden’s too-innocent expression. “And the Talz freak didn’t have the patience for traps. Odds are the Wrath still hasn't figured them out.”

“Good. Be careful anyway.” Reanden vanished into the room, and Theron grunted as he managed to pick the lock on the second door. When he pushed it open, he found himself in what could only be the Wrath’s bedchamber, and shuddered involuntarily. Maglion apparently liked surrounding himself with reminders of pain and suffering at all times, even in slumber.

At his side, Lana blanched. “Oh, stars... people say Agent Taerich is the more dangerous brother, but this… Cipher Nine would never leave a trail of screams in his wake like this. It’s so engrained into the walls themselves…”

“Nine’s reputation comes from making people quietly disappear or suddenly destroying their lives, and never being predictable or traceable,” Theron muttered. “He’s a sociopath with a vicious streak, but not a psychotic lunatic.”

“And you thought you would never have anything positive to say about him.” Lana forced a tight smile as she entered the room, one hand on her lightsaber hilt.

Theron rolled his eyes and followed Lana inside. “Don’t get used to it,” he muttered as he started gingerly rifling through cabinets. He very quickly understood precisely what Reanden had meant by the trophy-keeping -- and not all of the ‘trophies’ the Wrath had claimed seemed to be weapons. Apparently Xaja’s mother was lucky that she had died quickly and relatively painlessly.

He backed away from one cabinet that contained an assortment of biological material from the Sith’s old victims (ranging from a collection of Padawan braids to an entire quasi-mummified arm, and just about everything in between), needing a moment to settle his churning stomach before moving to the next chest over. “Find anything yet?”

“A couple of datacrons, and a few lightsabers, but the only saber-staff is an obviously Sith design.” Lana shook her head as she moved to the next cabinet, only opening it for a second before she slammed it shut again, her face white. “For kriff’s sake, there are reasons those things are illegal, even here! The devices in there… they’re inhumane even by Sith standards!”

“I don’t wanna know. How the hells is he the old man’s brother?” Theron frowned as he opened the cabinet door, carefully squinting into the darkness.

“Half-brother, according to his research. Apparently his mother blamed his father for giving her a Force-blind son and took her options elsewhere.” Lana shuddered. “You thought you had it rough as the Force-blind son of a Jedi, Theron? Reanden Taerich had it far worse as the son of a Sith.”

“Don’t tell him I said this, but I almost pity him. No wonder he’s got a vicious streak a parsec wide --” He suddenly froze as a glint of silver caught his attention. “You look interesting,” he mumbled as he carefully reached into the cabinet.

“What does?” Lana asked as she stepped over, then lowly gasped when she saw the damaged saber-staff Theron was carefully releasing from its constraints in the trophy cabinet. “Do you suppose…”

“It looks like a close style to Xaja’s twin blades,” Theron murmured as he raised the saber-staff. The lightsaber gash in the middle of the staff had almost completely bisected the weapon -- frankly, the spy was surprised it was still in one piece, even if only barely. “Want to grab the old man and see if this is a match --?”

“No need.” Reanden suddenly materialized to Theron’s left, making the spy jump. For once, the older man ignored the opportunity to poke fun at the younger, focusing his attention on reaching for the saber-staff. The cool, detached mask of Cipher Nine seemed to have shattered, leaving only the face of a man still in mourning for the one he’d lost a decade ago. “Kriffing hells...This is it. This is her lightsaber.”  He carefully turned it over in his hands, mindful of the gash through the centre -- then, in a move of complete recklessness that nearly made Theron squawk a protest, he extended the weapon to the side and tapped a button on the longer, less-damaged side of the lightsaber. A single vivid-green blade shot out the end of the weapon, sparking for a few seconds before Reanden turned it back off. “This is the lightsaber she built after she left Corellia with me.” He sighed, his eyes softened with nostalgic fondness and love, even if laced with grief. “And she would be furious if she knew that her murderer had shoved it in a trophy case like this.”

“I wouldn’t blame her.” Theron gazed at the saber-staff. “Do you think it’s repairable?”

“At least one side, for certain. Airna designed it as though it was two separate lightsabers melded into one. She liked having the ability to use the blades independently of each other.” Reanden grew silent for a moment; Theron looked away, pretending he couldn’t see the way the older man’s jaw tightened, or how he surreptitiously swiped the back of his hand over his eyes. “At the very least, Xaja will be able to get one lightsaber out of this; possibly both. The damage to this weapon is less severe than what happened to the blue ones.”

“She’ll be thrilled.” Lana nodded and patted Reanden’s shoulder. “But does she know how to use a saber-staff…?”

“She does,” Theron confirmed. “It’s not her preferred style, but she and the Barsen’thor swapped notes back in the day. He taught her enough that she’s not likely to remove her own limbs in a fight.”

Reanden softly chuckled, shaking his head. “Yes, definitely her mother’s daughter. Airna would be delighted to know that.” He sighed and hid the lightsaber under his jacket, then closed the cabinet and straightened up. “Come. The sooner we’re out of here and back on Odessen, the better. Ready, Pierce?” he called out to the soldier waiting in the atrium.

“Yes, sir. Never thought I’d say this, but I’m looking forward to Dromund Kaas being behind me for the last time.” Pierce waited while Theron and Reanden hid all traces of their intrusion, then fell into step beside the Alliance team. “Think he’s gonna notice that lightsaber being gone?”

“Hopefully he doesn’t routinely go through cataloguing his trophies,” Reanden muttered.

When the team returned to Odessen, they were informed that the Commander was in the cantina. Theron walked through the caves that had been converted into the Alliance base and stepped through the door to the cantina, letting his eyes adjust to the lighting. He caught sight of Xaja’s bright red hair in a private lounge to the far side and made his way over, recognizing Korin and Sorand with her. “What’s up?” he asked as he came to a stop behind Xaja’s chair and loosely wrapped his arms around her from behind, kissing her hair.

“You’re back!” Xaja smiled and reached up, with no small amount of awkward twisting, to pull Theron down enough to kiss her, ignoring the teasing whistles from her brothers. “Where did you go? Dad just said he needed to steal you and Lana for a few days.”

“The last place I ever want to set foot again,” Theron muttered as he kissed her again, then caught a glimpse of what was on the table. “What’s this?”

“Items of our mother’s,” Sorand volunteered, nudging a worn-looking journal covered in a quick, messy handwriting that looked eerily similar to his own. He glanced at Korin, then back at Theron. “We may or may not have broken into our old home on Lavisar to get at these.”

“That’s not gonna be a vacation spot anytime soon,” Korin sighed, running his hand over his face. “Don’t blame Dad for locking the place up after…”

“Don’t blame Dad for what?” Reanden meandered up to look down at the table contents. “Oh, kriff… I haven’t seen some of these in years.” He sadly smiled as he reached down to run his fingers over some of the old holo photos printed out onto flimsi. “I’d almost forgotten about some of these.” When Theron looked at the photos, he blinked at the images of a laughing, red-haired woman; in most of the images, she was with a child, or gazing at a younger, darker-haired, less-worn Reanden with open love in her eyes. Stars… She really did look like Xaja.

“The boys found some of her journals too, and some of her jewellery. It’s the closest I’ve ever been to knowing Mom.” Xaja looked back up; Theron was struck by the wishful expression in her eyes. “It makes me wish I could have met her.”

“I wish you could have met her too. She would have been so proud of you.” Reanden sighed and squeezed her shoulder. “I think you might like what we found for you in Imp Space though.”

Xaja frowned as she craned her neck up to look at her father. “What’s that?”

“First off, we have a new recruit. Major Pierce is former Imperial Military.” Reanden nodded to Pierce as Xaja stood up to greet him. “He’s a good soldier, an excellent strategist, and helped us get to where we needed to be in exchange for joining the Alliance.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Major.” Xaja smiled as Pierce offered her a formal salute, then looked at her father. “Where did he help you get to?”

“To this.” Reanden withdrew the damaged saber-staff from his jacket, glancing over when he heard Sorand’s low gasp and saw Korin jerk upright with wide eyes. They both recognized what he had in his hands. “Remember how I said your mother used a saber-staff?”

“... This was hers?” Xaja reverently reached out for the saber-staff with trembling hands, as though afraid to touch it.

“Yes. This was her preferred weapon -- she designed this one herself. Green crystals inside, and she built it to essentially function like two separate lightsabers in one.” Reanden smiled as he set the lightsaber in his daughter’s hands. “I haven’t taken it apart to see the extent of the damage your uncle caused to it, but the one side for sure still works. I think you should be able to salvage at least one blade out of it, baby girl.”

Theron watched as Xaja carefully examined the saber-staff, slowly running her fingers along the etchings her mother had left so many years ago, skirting the gash left from the Sith blade in the centre, tracing the control panels in the centre of the hilt. She remained motionless for a moment, then pounced into Reanden’s arms, clinging to both her father and her mother’s weapon tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered, lowly enough that Theron almost couldn’t hear her. “Thank you…”

Xaja frowned down at the inner components of her mother’s saber-staff. Her dad had been correct -- her mother had designed both ends to function independently of each other, even if they hadn’t been detachable from each other. Airna Drallig-Taerich had left a solid foundation for her daughter to turn her saber-staff into two separate lightsabers. If she was careful, she could finish separating the two halves; finding the components to fix what would be the pommel ends of the lightsabers wouldn’t be difficult.

But the green crystals within the hilts were dull and cold to the touch; a stark contrast to how the blue crystals in the twin blades had glowed brightly when Xaja had merely passed her hand overtop of them. Those crystals had sung to her through the Force; the green crystals now were silent. She might be able to make them work, but the lightsabers would feel too foreign in her hands without the crystals connecting to her. But replacing her mother’s crystals felt wrong.

“It’s not wrong. Trust the Force, little one. This isn’t my lightsaber anymore.”

Xaja jolted upward at the whisper in the Force, feeling a soft breeze brush her skin that almost felt like a gentle stroke along her cheek, despite being inside the base. “Mom?” she whispered, looking around frantically as though her mother would be visible. But no; the Force grew quiet again, and the faint flicker of a strange-yet-familiar Force-signature faded from her senses. But Xaja didn’t feel quite alone -- she could feel something warm and soothing in the air around her, suppressing Valkorion in her mind so he couldn’t distract her.

She smiled, feeling a tightness in the back of her throat and a burn of tears behind her eyes. “Thanks, Mom,” she whispered into the stillness, and felt another feather-light brush against her cheek. Feeling a little bit reassured that her mother wouldn’t be disappointed with her for replacing the crystals, Xaja reverently packed the saber-staff into its box on her desk, then stood up. She had seen a crystal cave on Odessen during one of her walks through the wilderness -- sometimes with Lana, sometimes with Senya, frequently with Theron. Perhaps the Alliance’s hidden planet had a treasure for her.

Dusk was just falling over the Alliance base when Xaja returned, bearing a precious burden in her belt pouch. It had taken meandering to two different crystal caves before she finally heard the song of the Force drawing her to a cluster of colourless kyber crystals. Two crystals had glowed brightly as soon as Xaja had approached the cluster, and Xaja wondered if her mother had lead her here through the Force. Either way, the stones she had picked up would suit the lightsabers perfectly fine.

She quickly made her way through the base, successfully dodging conversations until she finally made it back to her and Theron’s quarters. He was still out, probably going over more reports or bickering with her father or Lana over something -- Xaja would look for him later. But right now, the crystals’ humming in the Force commanded her attention.

Settling down on the floor beside their bed, Xaja pulled the saber-staff back out, placing it between the stack of parts she had acquired with Senya’s assistance, and the two crystals. She carefully focused her attention on the weak point of the hilt; it took a small bit of pressure with the Force to gently break apart the two halves of the weapon. Straightening her back into a proper meditation pose, Xaja closed her eyes and let her conscious self go, just like Master Orgus had taught her, so many years ago. The Force was her conduit to reconstruct the lightsabers.

Her eyes were closed, but she still felt like she was able to see in front of her. She watched as the components of the saber-staff halves rotated in the air before her, the Force pulling the ruined inner components of the lightsabers away. A moment later, she watched as a red-haired woman, forever the too-young age when she had died, knelt before her.

A pair of green eyes that eerily resembled Xaja’s own eyes twinkled, and Airna Taerich settled in to assist with the repairing and modification of her lightsaber.

Theron slid the door to their quarters open, a small frown creasing his forehead. It wasn’t like Xaja to just meander off into Odessen’s forests by herself after just telling Lana she needed to do something. And it certainly wasn’t usual for her to retreat to their quarters without seeking him out first. “Xaja?” he lowly called into the room, alarm flooding through him when she didn’t answer him. Maybe she was just asleep, or maybe she had injured herself on her jungle stroll and he needed to take her to medbay ---

He nearly dropped the datapad in his hand when he saw the translucent woman kneeling before Xaja, who appeared to be deep in meditation. It was the same woman he’d seen in the holo photos -- long red hair loosely braided down her back, a scattering of freckles over her nose that none of her children had inherited, a gentle smile on her lips. “Master Airna,” he softly whispered, his eyes widening. He was tempted to shake Xaja out of her meditation so she could see the ghost of her mother.

Airna looked up at him and smiled, then shook her head and raised one finger to her lips in the universal sign to be quiet. Feeling not a little bit stunned, Theron slowly sat down on the couch, twisting around to watch as the Jedi ghost turned her attention back to her daughter. Then his jaw dropped as he saw the lightsabers slowly rotating in mid-air, the ruined parts being pulled away with the Force and new, undamaged components taking their place. Xaja appeared to be completely unaware of his presence; Theron noted that she barely seemed to be breathing as she raised the new pommels of the lightsabers, gently sliding them on until they clicked into place. These were a different look -- when Theron squinted, he could see what looked to be clips or magnets within the pommels. It appeared that Xaja was making like her mother and giving herself the option of using a saber-staff when necessary.

With the pommels complete, Xaja shifted her attention to the centre of the hilts. The emitters still looked undamaged, which Theron knew had to be a relief for his Jedi girlfriend. He watched with a slight frown as the lightsaber chassis split apart near the emitter ends, then felt his mouth fall open as two green crystals floated out. Airna caught the crystals; the bright glow as the crystals were held by their first owner was enough to make Theron’s eyes water. He watched as two new crystals floated upward, these clear and cloudy, but colourless. He wondered if they would change colours when actually in the lightsabers.

The crystals fit into their slots in the lightsabers like the weapons had been made specifically for them, and the hilts started to come back together. Airna set her old crystals down on the desk and stood up; she hadn’t been a tall woman, capping out at perhaps five-foot-four. But watching her movements, all at once fluid and strong and graceful in their concealed deadliness, Theron could well believe that she had been a masterful duelist in life. And oh, kriff, she walked almost exactly like her daughter. He now fully understood where Xaja had inherited that elegant, graceful, subtly dangerous stride, and it hadn’t been taught to her by Orgus Din.

He felt his tongue turn to lead in his mouth as Airna made her way over to him, finally directing her full attention on him. She surveyed him with a single raised eyebrow (oh, that’s where Sorand had gotten that trait), slowly looking him up and down, before she finally nodded. A smile pulled at her face, bright green eyes softening. “She certainly is my mini-me,” she finally murmured. “We both apparently have a thing for tall, dark, and handsome spies.” She moved to rest a hand on Theron’s cheek; the spy only felt a soft brush of cool air. “She picked a good one.”

Theron awkwardly shifted under the dead Jedi’s scruitiny. “I’m lucky,” he quietly said. “She’s so far out of my league…”

“She doesn’t think so. You impressed her with your intelligence and bravery, and made her fall for you by caring about the woman wearing the Jedi robes, not about the titles she carried.” Airna gave him a wink. “You rather impressed me too... and her father -- not that he’s likely to admit it. If he didn’t like you, he probably would have stabbed you years ago.” She lowered her hand back to her side as she fondly looked back at her daughter. “I’m so proud of the woman she’s become, even if I couldn’t raise her myself. I’m proud of all three of my children.”

Xaja started to stir as her lightsabers started to lower themselves to her lap. Airna took a step toward her daughter before turning and looking over her shoulder at Theron, her fond demeanour turning to something cold and hard. “The fact that her father and I couldn’t safely raise her doesn’t mean I don’t love her like I do my sons or my husband, Theron. If you ever make her cry for anything other than joy, I will haunt you into madness that will make Revan seem perfectly sane in comparison.”

Theron gulped at the dangerous glint to Airna’s green eyes. “The day I intentionally hurt Xaja is the day the galaxy implodes on itself, Master Airna. I would… I could never hurt her. She means everything to me.” The words surprised even him, but now that they had been vocalized, he knew they were true. Xaja was the star his world orbited around, the best thing to have ever come into his life. He could never even dream of giving that up.

The dead Jedi’s eyes softened again. “I thought so,” she softly murmured as she ran her translucent fingers through Xaja’s long hair. She leaned down to press a lingering kiss into her her daughter’s hair. “The Force will be with you, my little one. And so will I.” Her last words were almost inaudible as she faded away, leaving no trace of her presence by the time Xaja’s eyes opened.

Xaja hadn’t been aware of her mother’s conversation with Theron. She hadn’t even been aware of Theron’s presence in the room behind her. She had just followed the motions of her mother guiding her through the lightsaber repair, removing the destroyed components and replacing them with the new, undamaged parts. Her mother had guided the old crystals out, and for a moment Xaja got to see the brilliant green light that Airna had once wielded. She let her new crystals settle into place, just seeing a white glow inside the saber chassis as she sealed them closed again.

The last thing she sensed as she started to come out of the trance was her mother kissing her hair, murmuring soft words to her as she faded away again. Xaja finally let her eyes drift open, disappointed to not see her mother sitting before her in the waking world, but still feeling comforting warmth lingering in the air around her. She let out a breath, and almost immediately felt the planet tilt dangerously. She had been dizzy after constructing her first lightsaber with Master Orgus’ directions -- apparently this was just a thing she had to deal with.

She felt a pair of strong arms encircle her, immediately knowing they were too large and too solid to be her mother’s. Besides, Airna hadn’t worn a red leatheris jacket. “Easy,” Theron softly murmured as he helped her straighten back up, letting her lean into his chest. “Take it easy for a minute. I’m right here.”

“Theron!” Xaja leaned into him as he kissed her forehead. “I… I saw my mom. She was here, and…” Shit, those were tears falling down her face. “... Kriff, I finally got to hear what my mom sounded like, and it was like she was here touching me, and I wish…”

“Shhh. It’s okay, sweetheart.” Theron kissed her brow again as more tears came, despite her attempts to stop them. “I know you wanted to know your mom, baby. She’s gotta be damn proud of you.” He leaned down enough to brush away her tears, kissing the trails left on her skin. “Shh…”

It was maybe fifteen minutes later before Xaja finally straightened up, scrubbing her sleeve over her eyes. “Thanks,” she whispered, and felt Theron squeeze her shoulders comfortingly. “Sorry…”

“Don’t be.” Theron kissed her hair. “I know my mother and I don’t exactly see eye to eye, but I still get you wanted to know yours.” He left another kiss in her hair before his hand settled over her own on her lap. “So, lightsaber reconstruction went well?”

“... Oh, yeah…” Xaja looked down at the two lightsabers on her lap under their hands. The silver hilts glimmered in the light; when Xaja lifted the weapons for a closer inspection, she could see the differences in the metal colours between the old and new components. With time, she suspected the new parts she had added would weather to match her mother’s, eventually. She carefully aligned both pommels with each other, and was rewarded with a satisfying click as they joined together, forming a saber-staff again. She could use her mother’s form, as well as her own preferred style, once she confirmed that the weapons themselves were functional.

Twisting the hilts to make the pommels detach from each other, she raised one lightsaber to her shoulder level as she stood up, pointing the emitter well away from herself or Theron. She took a deep breath to brace herself as her thumb found the power switch and pressed down. A nanosecond later, a bright white beam of light shot out of the emitter with a satisfying snap-hum -- not quite the same pitch as her old lightsabers, but still a reassuring sound. She gave the weapon an experimental spin, already feeling a delighted smile on her face even before confirming that the lightsaber was perfectly balanced. Her mother had kept the same hilt shape and size between her twin blades and her saber-staff -- this weapon felt perfect in Xaja’s hand, like she had built it from scratch herself. The crystals within the lightsabers sang to her through the Force, the blade feeling like a perfect extension of her own arm. And her left-hand weapon, when she activated it, felt like a perfect match to the first. These were more than a satisfactory replacement for the set of blue lightsabers the Exarch had destroyed. They couldn’t have been more perfect if her mother had specifically made them for her.

Xaja finally deactivated the weapons and spun around to tightly hug Theron, joy slipping past her mental shields to colour the Force around her. “They’re perfect,” she whispered as he lifted her in his embrace and delightedly spun with her. “Oh, Force, they’re absolutely perfect. They feel even better than my old ones!”

“That’s good!” Theron kissed her cheek, his lips lingering on her skin for a moment. “Good. Makes me feel a lot better about you being in combat so much, knowing you have good lightsabers now and not those stand-ins you borrowed from Sana-Rae’s enclave.”

“Mom wouldn’t leave me with bad weapons.” Xaja all but beamed as Theron finally set her back on her feet. “I get the feeling she wouldn’t let me use lightsabers that didn’t feel right if she was here.”

“Well, good to know that my girlfriend’s ghostly mom and I agree on something.” Theron cupped Xaja’s face in his hands and gently kissed her; pride and affection rippled from him in the Force. “Nice touch with adding the saber-staff magnets,” he murmured. “... You do still know how to use one, right?”

“Jakar and Kira both taught me enough that I’m pretty sure I can keep my head on my neck, Theron.” Xaja smiled at another soft kiss. “Want me to prove it?”

“Any chance to see you in action is one I’m down for.” Theron grinned. “The fact that it’ll set my mind at ease about you using a staff is just a side bonus.” He planted another kiss on her nose. “Sparring enclave should be about dead at this hour, I think…”

“Works for me.” Xaja stretched up to kiss Theron again, then stepped back and attached her new lightsabers to her belt. They rested comfortably against her hips, like they had always been meant to be there.

She turned and started walking out of their quarters, not seeing Theron linger back for a moment. He reached a hand out toward the original green crystals left behind on the desk, eyes widening when they offered a very dull glow in response to his presence. The spy looked down at the crystals, then at Xaja’s back, then slipped the crystals into his pocket, feeling their warmth against his hand. Maybe he could figure out another way to make sure Xaja could keep her mother’s original crystals with her.

He spent the rest of the evening trying to convince himself that he had merely imagined that sudden feeling of pleased satisfaction and an approving hum from behind him.

[tf2-parqcxsm]

Spy x Reader: Babysitting

a bit of spydad. let's just assume you have a baby nephew and a sister in this story. :)

The French man sat on his fancy chair, which was placed beside the casual-looking couch. Ever since you and Spy purchased this house, every corner looked like it was a mix of elegance and informality. It often ticked him off, but he eventually got used to it. He grabbed his cigarette and took it away from his mouth, puffing out a patch of smoke. The grayish gas made its way above and disappeared into thinness, it slightly left a funny smell in the room and made the atmosphere to be even more indulging.

For Spy, at least.

It was another boring day, you had to leave the house all to him and go somewhere. Spy would always insist that you tell him where you're going, but you would laugh it off and give him a quick peck on the cheek before storming off. He had suspicions, but he shook the feeling off. He didn't want to doubt you, the precious sweetheart of his life.

Even so, it felt boring without you. You were a chaotic but a genuinely fun person to be with. He couldn't ask for someone better than you. A sigh escaped from his lips as soon as his mind settled on the thoughts of you, he grabbed the newspaper from the table to distract himself away from these emotions. He started reading the headline, "MALL SANTA WAS KNOCKED OUT BY STRANGE MAN WITH HELMET!"

Spy groaned when he recognized who it was talking about. He rolled the newspaper and placed it back from its original placement. He stood up from his chair and headed towards the kitchen, he was supposed to grab a treat, when you suddenly barged into the room.

With a baby in your arms.

Spy nearly jumped in surprise at your sudden appearance, he turned around and tried to reach for you, "Mon chéri, what are you—"

You swiftly placed the baby in his arms, "No time to explain! I have to go! Take care of the baby, bye, I love you!" Explaining everything so quickly, you just simply placed a kiss on his lips and ran outside like there was a killer chasing you. Spy blinked his eyes multiple times, unable to understand what the hell just happened, before setting his attention to the baby who was sleeping soundly in his arms. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight, "Why…"

He was never good with children. You knew that. Why would you leave him in a situation like this? He couldn't even give Scou—

Anyway. The baby eventually woke up due to Spy's uncomfortable shifting. He had to place him down on the table — very thoughtful of him — because he wasn't so used to holding a child, watching him from a distance and a hand on his chin. "What should I do with you..?" He mumbled, whether it was to the baby or to himself, heaven only knows. The baby tilted his head, giving Spy the eyes of curiosity, which just made him cringe. A wide smile crept to his face, giggling. He raised his arms up high, as if he was trying to reach for something. He then started to crawl towards Spy.

It took awhile for the masked gentleman to realize what was happening. He was going to fall! Spy quickly ran to him and managed to catch him before he made contact with the floor. Putting his hands under the baby's arms, Spy narrowed his eyes. "Mon dieu, you're quite the disgraceful one." He uttered, somewhat causing the baby to raise his arms once again. Spy moved him away with a displeased expression on his face, he didn't want to be touched with those dirty little hands. Who knows what the baby has touched!

The baby frowned when he felt Spy's presence to be farther away from him, "Mama? Mama!" Tears started to form around his eyes as he yelled for his mama. Both concern and confusion filled Spy's head. He raised an eyebrow, "What? Non, non." He placed the baby down again on the table, he raised a finger to point out a fact. "I am NOT your mother." The baby didn't seem to like his response, as he started to let out tiny sobs. The annoyed expression on Spy's face quickly dissolved into a concerned one. How was he supposed to react?!

"Unless…?"

Unless YOU were the mother.

"(Y/n)'s your mother, isn't she?"

Spy felt a pang of sadness in his heart. Although, being an expressionless person, the emotion didn't seep out to most people. But he felt it, right through his chest and soul. "Well, it would make sense, right?" He studied the baby's features, he had most of your appearance. (H/c) hair, (e/c) eyes, and (s/c) skin. He looked exactly like you! Just a male version. And a baby version.

He doesn't remember doing any sensual activity with you. In fact, he doesn't remember your stomach growing at all! All kinds of thoughts ran through Spy's head, somewhat leaving a bitter feeling. His series of thoughts were interrupted when the baby finally wailed loudly, his cries echoing through the room and irritating Spy's sense of hearing. "Ugh..what do you want now?"

Some Time Later

As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, you immediately opened the door and ran towards the house you and Spy shared. Slamming the door open, you yelled, "Spy?! Where's the baby?!"

You scanned the surroundings and your eyes landed on Spy, who was sitting on his chair with a rather lazy position. His back was completely slacked off on the chair as his head was tucked in his shoulders. He even held his cigarette lazily. You couldn't help but snicker at the sight. "He's over there." He pointed at the ground, which you brought your gaze to. The baby held a box, and was chewing the whole pack. A gasp escaped from your lips, you quickly ran over to pick him up and got the object away from him. "Spy, what did you give him?!" You exclaimed in worry, snapping your head towards your masked lover.

He simply huffed at your question, "Don't make such a ruckus. I only gave him juice." The unusual behavior from Spy made you even more worried. You held the baby firmly in your hands as you walked over to the French man. "Spy? Are you okay?" You questioned, softly this time. The baby attempted to reach for the box that you held in your hand, but you quickly shut him away with a 'no'.

"Okay? Do I look okay?" Spy spatted bitterly at you, which surprised you and caused your eyes to widen. "Actually, why even ask? You have your other lover waiting for you outside, right? Go ahead. Leave the house with that filthy baby." He hissed, the venom in his voice sending shivers down your spine. His glare speared through you, even with the mask, you could see the wrinkles he had when he furrowed his eyebrows. Your heart sank at his words. "Spy, this—"

"Don't even try to explain. Just leave."

"This is my sister's!"

Spy stopped dead in his tracks while he was walking up the stairs. "What?" He slowly turned his head to you, and once his gaze landed on you, his eyes widened. You were nearly crying, "This is my nephew! Why would I have a baby with another man?!" You yelled at him, despite knowing that the baby in your arms will probably cry due to your yelling, but he merely played around your shoulders and made some tiny noises. You couldn't believe Spy would think of you like that.

A sniffle seemed to come out, and tears blurred up your vision. You managed to wipe them away with your free arm. As soon as you dropped your arm, you were faced with your lover, a serious but an apologetic look on his face. You tried to drag your gaze away, but he already had his hands — which were not gloved — on your cheeks, gently caressing away the paths that your salty tears took. "I'm sorry. I thought—"

"Yeah, I know. It's my fault too." You leaned into his touch. You were so glad about the fact that he decided to take his gloves off, you could feel the warmth of his hand melt into your skin. Every time you feel his hands running through any part of your body, you would immediately tense up. But when it's on your cheeks, you just simply lean towards him, wanting to feel more of his touch. You wish he would take off his mask more often too. Spy sighed, opening his mouth to say something again.

"Hi, sis!! Where's my— Oh…"

There came your sister, laughing nervously when she saw you in close contact with Spy. "Oh, sorry! Am I interrupting something?" She questioned, and you quickly walked towards her as Spy stayed behind. "No, it's okay. Here's your baby." You carefully gave her the young child, and he started to laugh adorably as soon as he saw his real mother. You smiled at the sight in front of you, an image of you and Spy having a baby flashed through your mind, which almost made you tear up.

"Well, we better get going now! Thank you again for taking care of my son!" Your sister waved at Spy as a thank you, to which he rudely looked away from. You cleared your throat to drift your sister's attention away from him, and laughed nervously, "Pardon him. He's not really good with people." You explained. She smirked at you, and that caused you to push her out of the house.

As your sister drove away with her truck, you waved at her whilst leaning against the doorframe. The vehicle slowly descended to the horizon, and once it's gone, you allowed a sad sigh to escape from your lips and rubbed your temple. An arm made its way around your waist and pressed you against them. You looked up to your side just to see the smooth jawline of your French lover, he was also looking over to where the vehicle was driving off to. You chuckled lovingly at the sight.

"Don't you ever dare replace me with another man." Spy uttered, with a hint of desperation in his voice. You rolled your eyes at him, "Why would I?" He turned his head to you, the corners of his lips turning up at your question.

"Because I'm irreplaceable."

"Pff— Yeah, right."

He leaned to your face, his arms still wrapped around your waist, bringing you to a deep, passionate kiss. He didn't want to let go of you, he especially didn't want to lose you to another man.

He loves you.