#granted the other two are me screaming about a certain other harbinger but still

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

it was from hoyofair, so it’s technically canon he’s into aquarium dates😌

!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is exceptionally good news

i think "aquarium" dates in Teyvat canon would be so fun, because you can just go diving in Fontaine and see all the cool ocean creatures you want. you can always stop at those underwater pavilion-type structures to rest if needed, watching Legacy shake off his wings with a trill and stare out the glass windows in awe. he scoops you into his arms as you start pointing out all the sea life you know, from the jellyfish floating in the waves to the blubberbeasts turning lazy loops as they swim around, and Legacy snuggles you close with a happy purr, water still dripping from his horns. he looks absolutely gorgeous when he swims, his wings floating like elegant, sparkling gauze and his armor shining under the refracting rays of the sun- and the animals love him, they always swim over to curiously inspect and observe both of you. Foul Legacy definitely makes friends with a young blubberbeast :)

he's very protective of you when you're swimming in Fontaine's sea, though, doing his best to keep you away from the Fortress of Meropide, where he knows Childe had to escape from. he won't stop you if you insist on going, but will nudge you away from the eyes of the searchlights when they come close. there's also one certain, seemingly random area that Legacy refuses to let you near, no matter how much you plead. it looks normal enough, but you did happen to glimpse a crack in the seabed once, oozing primordial stars and water that swirled like oil...

[rumowrites]

So RWBY: QROW AND CLOVER

*spoliers ahead*

We know that he has been sober ever since coming to Atlas. I'd guess that's about a timespan of maybe a month or two considering what the main gang is up to during that time. We don't kniw if he relapsed a couple of times during that time but we never see him drinking on screen and even refusing when offered (you can see the conflict in his eyes at that point but he still says no) even though he is still visually struggling with it.

Now, insert Clover, who is nothing but supportive from their first meeting on (not counting the getting arrested part but Qrow doesn't seem to mind) and actively calls him out on his self-depreciating humour. They seem to grow closer over time (yes I ship them but even if it's just platonic, the connection is there) and finally Qrow has someone he can work with without having to worry about his semblance hurting them.

We can see that they always partner up in fights or stay in close proximity to another. Additionally, Qrows fighting style changes a bit to what I assume is the way he fights when he is alone: more offensive, getting down a dirty (he uses his scythe as a knuckle duster on several occasions) and not afraid to get in literal punching range of his opponent even though Harbinger is more of a long range melee weapon. However he works it so efficiently that I won't question it.

So all in all, Qrow is improving on several layers: he stopped drinking, he learns that he can work in a team and that not everything is his fault and that there are people around who love him.

Now, qeue the fight with Clover and Tyrian.

Qrow doesn't want to fight. He is willing to get arrested and go back to Atlas to talk to Ironwood if that is what it takes to keep them from fighting. He is the voice of reason. But Robyn gets swept up by Tyrian even though she is not the one getting arrested (ok granted, she probably just wants to get back to Mantle to keep the people safe from Salem) BUT that qeues a fight between her and Clover in which Qrow reluctantly steps into because he knows what the right thing to do is and Clover isn't doing it.

He's also the only one running straight up to stop Tyrian from crashing the plane while Clover just casually hops out of the window at the sight of danger, leaving the other 3 behind.

Qrow is hurt because Clover, the person he has grown so close to, displays similar characteristics to Ozpin and other people in his life who have abandoned and betrayed him. He tells Clover as much.

Now: the second Tyrian appears again, Qrow immediately focuses on him, leaving his back open to Clover because he still trusts him to at least fight this psychopath with him. Clover however stops him, indirectly forcing Qrow to band with Tyrian.

What happens next is what makes me certain that Qrow still doesn't really want to hurt Clover. He just wants to get him out of the fight. That is the main reson he leaves Harbinger in the snow and attacks with his hands instead: his weapon is, true to its name, a freaking giant killing machine and he doesn't want to kill Clover.

And then Tyrian had to be a total ass as per usual and stabs Clover. With Qrows weapon. The weapon he set aside to not hurt Clover. How dare he.

The fact that Qrow doesn't even reach for Harbinger to fight Tyrian afterwards suggests that he probably will refrain from using it in the future. I'm not even sure he will be able to bring himself to clean it from Clovers blood.

Qrow does what every experienced fighter does: he goes for the biggest threat first. Clover disregards that in favour of fulfilling his duty.

The scream of pure agony broke my heart. We have, in the whole series, never seen Qrow cry. Even when Ozpin betrayed them, he was just angry and then proceeded to try and drink himself to death (the word here is apathy). But now, he is not holding back these emotions, he screams and cries.

And he waits for the Atlas military to come and arrest him. I foubt he will tell them that it wasn't him who killed Clover becaus even if Tyrian swung the sword, he still blames himself. Because that is what he does.

Additionally Tyrians "Oh like you just killed him?" Will drive that metaphorical dagger even deeper in Qrows heart.

So there are several possible outcomes for Qrow I can see in S8:

1. Qrow lets hinself get put in Jail because he thinks he deserves it. (I can see Robyn maybe speaking out on his behalf but since she was unconscious, she wouldn't be able to provide much evidence.)

2. Their ship doesn't reach Atlas before Salem does and he and Robyn manage to escape back to Mantle where they fight Tyrian together (like in the S7 Intro).

3. He falls back to his alcoholism. (I think this is, no matter what happens before, very likely. Qrow has been sober for just a short time and visibly still struggles with it when faced with offered alcohol and such an emotional event makes it very likely for him to relapse.)

Tl:dr: Qrow was doing so good and now the combined effort of Ironwood, Tyrian and Clover will most likely let him fall into an even deeper pit than before.

[jadekitty777]

Transmission Error

Fun fact - I have written two stories within four days. Even funner fact - the other one is much cuter than this one but I can’t reveal it quite yet as it’s for the Qrow shipwreck fanzine.

Word Count: 4k

Pairing: Qrow/Clover

Ao3 Link: Transmission Error

Summary: With the end of the world on the horizon, nothing is certain. Loyalties and ideals clash as Qrow and Clover fight between what is right and what is just. With a city threatening to crumble around them, something has to win the day. But will it be their individual interests… or the one thing holding them together? 

Note: This is a What-If scenario for the events in the plane right after V7C11

~

In the wake of the transmission, the air in the transport was tense and heavy. Stiflingly, so.

Robyn acted first, jerking around and pointing her weapon at him. Clover looked between the crossbow and her unshakable gaze and saw the huntress he’d had a chance to watch grow into her own. She was several years his junior, who’d entered the academy strong-willed and defiant, with high opinions and a disobedient attitude that truly didn’t mesh well with the militant attitude of her peers. He’d been granted the chance to be her corrective tutor, once upon a time, but he knew within five minutes of them meeting that there was no hope changing her. Nor was she someone who needed to be. She was a shining example of the incoming generation, those with big ideas on how to better the world and willing to take the risks to make those ideas happen.

Now, staring down the barrel of her weapon and understanding that she was seeing him as a hurdle to cross to that better world, Clover had never felt so betrayed.

The minimal tang of moving metal made him look slightly to the right, where Qrow sat with his hand on Harbinger’s hilt – not extended but threatening to.

Okay now he never felt so betrayed.

He kept his hands right where they were, resting on either thigh. While he had luck on his side, he didn’t bet his chances on winning a fight against two skilled fighters in the middle of a closed area wherein his own weapon was ultimately useless. So he used the only one he had left – his voice. “Let’s just take a second and calm down.”

Robyn scoffed. “I think we’re way past calm, shamrock.”

Back to that old nickname? That was a bad sign.

“We’re not.” Clover insisted. “Look, we don’t know what’s going on and-”

“My niece just told us what’s going on.” Qrow butt in. “Your boss is going off the deep end and my kids are in the crossfire.”

He almost reminded the other huntsman that General Ironwood was, technically, his boss as well. He couldn’t imagine how scandalized he’d be if he dared.

He took a slow, steadying breath and tried again “The general wouldn’t suddenly switch tactics like this without reason. We need to get back to the academy and-”

“And what?!” Robyn was on her feet now, the crossbow nearly touching his nose. “How does this end? Mantle has been the sacrifice this entire time and you’ve done nothing but blindly stand by it! Now Ironwood’s signed its death warrant, so why should I believe you wouldn’t betray your own home now?”

Few things could get him to surge to his feet, but that accusation was too much. “I never-!”

Anything more he wished to say was interrupted by a round of screams from the cockpit, before an explosion rocked the airship, fire and heat blasting from the front. There was no Elm or Weiss to catch them, so the four of them were tossed about the cabin like ragdolls. Clover cried out as his spine impacted the bench with enough force to hurt, only for another undulation to throw him to the floor, his shoulder and head smacking in quick succession.

Somewhere, he heard Tyrian’s maniacal laughter. “I knew she’d come for me!”

He struggled against his fuzzy head to lift himself up, blinking away the haze in his vision to truly take in the unbelievable sight before him. The entire front of the airship was just gone, nothing but a gaping hole where the cockpit once was, opening up the view to the stomach-dropping site of Mantle below. The edges of the metal that had been torn off were still super-heated and glowing orange, smoke filling the cabin at an alarming rate and choking the air.

As the aircraft rapidly started to nosedive, he grabbed onto the leg of the bench to ground himself. Between the dark clouds and his watery eyes, he saw Tyrian go slipping out the front. Heard his psychotic giggling as he disappeared over the edge. Another shout made his gut twist, and he saw Robyn going next, nothing to catch her.

He scrambled for Kingfisher, swung it desperately – but the line caught nothing.

“Clover!”

Under the tumultuous noise of the failing craft and the screech of the winds, it was a true wonder how he managed to hear the yell that had him looking to the back where the last occupant was. Qrow had his sword embedded in the wall, using it to anchor himself in place. He reached out a hand for him, which Clover didn’t hesitate to take, feet scrambling for purchase as the other huntsman yanked him over. His hand curled partially over Qrow’s as he grabbed for a hold on Harbinger.

“The door!” The huntsman cried, indicating with a jerk of his head towards the hatch at the rear of the vehicle.

Clover nodded, planting his heels in so he could slide himself back against the wall, and slammed his fist into the door. Nothing happened. Without the cockpit, there was no tech to control them into opening.

Qrow was coughing. They were suffocating on smoke. The buildings of Mantle were rapidly getting closer.

They were going to die if they didn’t get out now.

He shut his eyes. Focused everything he had into the hatch beside him, willed his semblance into opening them, and slammed his fist back again.

It didn’t just open – it entirely detached, breaking off with a screech and getting lost somewhere in the night sky.

Clover spared Qrow a look, just long enough to make sure he would be able to get out on his own, before he grabbed onto the edge of the frame and yanked himself out. Suddenly, he was flying, the rooftops of Mantle rapidly stretching up to meet him. He swung Kingfisher in a wide arc, catching around a chimney stack behind him and using it to propel himself backwards so that he was over an alleyway. Another swing and another hook, this time around a fire escape, had him swinging into his fall, controlling his descent.

The ground still came up quickly and hit hard even as he tucked and rolled into it. He didn’t get up immediately. His back was screaming, despite his aura miraculously still holding, and his head felt like one big ache.  He gingerly pressed his palm against his temple, feeling the knot growing there, as he pulled out his scroll to check his teammates’ statuses.

Robyn was in the yellow, which meant wherever she ended up, she’d landed okay and in one piece. His own was on the verge of snapping, though he could feel that.

But his eyes were quickly drawn to the pulsing red meter over Qrow, panic rising. With all the other noise, he hadn’t heard the alert. The other man must have collided with something too hard during the explosion, and with his aura already taxed from battling waves of Grimm and Tyrian, it was no wonder it gave in.

He should have helped him out of the plane.

Clover quickly got to his feet, hissing as he did so. He ignored it in favor of searching the area. He couldn’t have landed far, right?

It was hard to see anything. The area was pitch black, most of the district’s electricity having been knocked out during the attack. But a light caught his eye and he started to jog down the alley towards it – only to quickly ease up into a quick walk. Once he’d stepped onto the sidewalk, he looked around, but saw no sign of Qrow anywhere.

But just as he was about to head down the street, something out of place caught his eye.

A falling feather.

He watched it flutter to the ground, before craning his head back, spotting a crow clinging to the only lamppost still on. “Qrow?” He called to it hopefully.

It cawed back, before hopping from its perch. Clover saw the problem immediately as he tried to flap with just one working wing, spiraling out of control. He rushed to catch him, raising his cupped hands towards the sky and biting down on his tongue when his shoulder protested loudly against the movement. Still, it felt worth the pain when the nearly weightless bird landed in his palms. He knelt down, setting him on the floor.

A second later, Qrow was next to him, stifling a groan as he held his right arm tightly. The elbow was at an odd angle.

He could have kicked himself for not noticing.

“Is it broken?” Clover asked, reaching out for it.

“Don’t think so – Ah, careful!” He hissed, fingers twitching. “Think I just knocked it outta place.”

Upon further inspection, he found the assessment was correct. A full dislocation. It was a wonder how he’d managed to keep hold of his sword with such an injury. Though, experience told him it was probably just pure adrenaline.

Clover looked up, meeting Qrow’s pained gaze. “I can set it, but it’s going to hurt.”

“I know.” He turned his face away. “Do it.”

“Okay.” He held onto his wrist with one hand, and the bone of his protruding elbow with the other, carefully pulling his arm into a 90-degree angle as he tried to guide the joint back into place as he rotated the wrist.

The worst part was how slow the reduction maneuver was, dragging out the pain. Qrow did his best to hide it, only short, sharp exhales escaping between his teeth. Until there was a click as the bone finally snapped back into place; then he doubled over and let out a wordless cry.

Clover guided the arm down, resting it in Qrow’s lap, before reaching out to run a soothing hand through the other man’s hair. “Any other injuries?” He asked once it seemed he’d had caught his breath.

He shook his head, straightening up. He tested the movement of his arm, flinching as the torn and swollen ligaments undoubtably objected. It didn’t appear to weaken his resolve though, as he used his good arm to help him get back to his feet, turning towards the sky. Towards Atlas.

Clover felt like his soul and body were pulling in different directions, because as he got to his feet, his heart sank. “You’re going?”

“Where else is there to be?” He questioned emptily as he walked forward.

As if Kingfisher’s line was tied between them, Clover found himself surging after him, grabbing onto his shoulder. “Wait!”

In all the time they’d gotten to know each other, Qrow had never looked back at him so spitefully before. “Going to stop me?”

What? Clover tried to work his jaw into the word, but nothing escaped him.

Because… that’s what he was supposed to do, wasn’t he? He was Atlas’ top Ace-Op, meant to protect the people and his Kingdom. Tasked in securing the deeper secrets of Remnant and protecting his General’s interests. Above all else, it was his duty to subdue anyone intent on hindering or delaying those interests.

When had Qrow become such a liability to him that the thought of stopping him didn’t even cross his mind?

“I-” He pulled his hand back, staring at it as if it had betrayed him.

“I get it, you know.”

He looked up. “Huh?”

Some of the heat in Qrow’s eyes had gone away. “Back when Beacon started to fall, I forgot too. I ran to Ozpin’s office, more intent on the relic and the maiden then I was on the people being torn apart in the streets. Oz didn’t even hesitate – actually he seemed pissed I was there at all.” He chuckled, a bitter, hollow sound. “He ordered me to leave, because even though he knew it was a risk, to him the people always came first. There are those in this world far better than me who never forget that. And those are the people I choose to follow.” He looked back, towards the city floating in the clouds. “And that’s what’s different between Oz and James. Oz always protected the people first. James always protected his ideals first.” Before he could formulate a retort, Qrow was looking at him now. “And from how you talked back there, it seems your ideals are what come first too.”

Clover curled one of his hands into a fist. “It’s not about ideals Qrow!”

“Isn’t it?!” He shot back, gesturing towards the buildings around them. “How else can you justify leaving an entire city to die?”

“How can you justify risking the world for one city?” He shouted right back.

Qrow got right in his face, eyes ablaze. “Because a huntsman always puts his life on the line for the people in need! Even if costs him his life.”

“Not when we could fail so many others!” Fury boiled up in him as well. “Do you think it’s satisfactory enough to say ‘Well I might be dead, but at least I did my best?’ Death isn’t an apology!”

“Neither is sacrificing the few for the many!”

“It’s not just the many! The numbers can’t even compare.” He jabbed his finger towards the sky, at the city he used to stare up at with wonder and jealousy. “If Salem gets that staff, that city will fall. Mantle, Atlas. All of it will be destroyed! So instead of saving who we can, we will lose everyone.”

“That makes it okay!?”

“Of course it doesn’t! I’d never say that.” His words trailed off into a rasp from his smoke-irritated throat. “This is the worst possible scenario and if I could go out there and stop Salem myself, I would. I’d give everything if I could do that. But that’s not an option and we have to make a decision.”

“You’re right. We do.” That red-eyed glare hardly lessened, even as Qrow took several steps backwards. Held up his arms like an offering. “So stop me.”

The challenge caught him off guard. “What?”

“You’re so certain about your path, right lucky charm? Then stop me.” He let his hands fall back to his sides, expression immovable. “Because I promise you, I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure James’ plan fails.”

Clover was sure if his jaw tightened any more, his molars would crack. “I’m not going to fight you Qrow.”

“You’re gonna have to. You can’t have it both ways.”

He squared his shoulders and rose his chin up, granting the first punch. They’d played too many rounds of poker for him not to know the signs when Qrow was bluffing. “You first.”

Something shimmered across the other’s face, a brief second of regret, before his expression hardened once more.

But he didn’t move.

As the seconds passed, the tension eased out of him, until Clover’s heart broke open into something softer, warmer. “Qrow…”

The utterance of his own name erased his resolve and he lowered his head to scowl at the sidewalk. “Just, stay out of this one, okay?”

“You know I can’t do that. But we can figure this out together.” He stepped forward.

The gesture only made Qrow back away further. “Now who’s spouting off idealistic bullshit?”

Clover snorted. “According to you, it’s still me.”

That actually cracked a smile, though it was fleeting. “Look, you have to understand, this isn’t just about Mantle or Salem or any of that. It’s about those kids. My kids. I have to go.” He looked up, his imploring gaze begging him to understand. “I have to.”

“Qrow,” He started, reaching for the man – but something moving in the shadows behind him drew his attention.

“I know you don’t get it, but-”

The words faded into background noise, Clover turning his head to get a better look at the figure slinking towards them.

Glowing gold eyes gleamed back at him.

His heart stopped.

Knowing he was spotted, Tyrian sprinted forward to clear the rest of the distance, wrist blades aimed for Qrow’s unprotected back.

Clover didn’t hesitate, reaching for Kingfisher and extending it in one quick movement. “Qrow!”

“What are you-?!” Misunderstanding, Qrow jerked back in sudden alarm, hand reaching for his own weapon, but his injury made him slow.

It was also the thing that saved him, as Clover managed to hook his line around the other’s torso and yank him to the ground by his side just as Tyrian’s blades cut through the air where he once was. The murderer’s malicious grin glinted like fangs in the light as he changed targets and struck towards him. Clover ducked under it, twisting the fishing rod around and jabbing the pointed end towards his face.

The iron grip of the other’s metallic tail closing around his wrist cut his attack short.

Tyrian cackled at the trembling end of the spearhead that was just centimeters from his now violet eyeball, looking at him almost gleefully. “Nice try. How about I return the favor?”

The words registered with the swing of the weapon at his face. In desperation, Clover threw himself as far back as he could go – expecting resistance from the hold on his arm.

But it let go.

Unprepared and unsteady, his feet fumbled for balance – and it was just the mistake Tyrian was looking for.

The other’s hand clawed down his front and he felt his aura rip at the seams as if made of paper.

And then all that was left was burning agony as the knife-edged point of the scorpion tail sliced across his stomach up to his chest.

Clover stumbled backwards, hands shakily pressing against his body as bright red blood flowed from the wound. His blood.

All he could think was, That’s not right.

He couldn’t breathe.

His legs started to shake.

A weak whisper of his name made him look to his right.

“Clover?”

The last thing he saw was Qrow’s horrified expression as he collapsed to the ground and everything went dark.

“Clover!!”

~

“So, how d-?”

“I don’t-”

Voices. He heard voices. They were distant and muddled, like he was hearing them from underwater. But as he grasped for them, fighting through the fog in his head and the numbness of his senses, it slammed awareness back into him violently and he became acutely aware of the searing pain roaring across his torso like fire.

A noise escaped him, a choked off cry.

“-ver? Clover?”

Qrow. He tried to focus on his voice, on the hand gripping his own. He squeezed it, maybe too tightly, feeling like it was the only thing grounding him.

“-Needs a medic.” Someone else’s voice faded in again, but he recognized it too. Robyn. How was she here? He felt her more dainty fingers pressing down against his wrist. “His pulse is stable, but he’s losing a lot of blood.”

“That poison’s no joke either.” Qrow sounded panicked. “How are we even going to find anyone right now?”

He wanted to reach out to him, to reassure him he was going to be fine. He’d had worse, surely. But when he tried to speak, the air was punched right out of his lungs as another wave of agony rolled over him.

He only noticed the hand running through his hair once it subsided and the sensation encouraged his eyes open. Everything around him was fuzzy, except the bright red orbs staring back at him.

Had he ever told Qrow how pretty his eyes were?

“Hey, it’s alright. You’re gonna be just fine.” His voice flowed like honey and was just as sweet. He wanted to listen to it forever.

“’Row.” He slurred around his heavy tongue.

It was worth the effort, as it rewarded him a smile.

“I’ve got him.” Robyn. Right she was here. Somewhere to his left. “You need to get going Qrow.”

“What?” Those eyes turned away from him. He wanted them back.

“If Ironwood knows Clover’s down here and that he can’t get back on his own, he might hold off. Might even restart the evacuation efforts.”

The memories resurfaced slowly. Right… Right. Mantle. Atlas. Salem. What happened to Tyrian? Did they-?

Unaware of his worries, the conversation continued around him, unhindered. “But I can’t just-” Qrow tried to argue.

“I won’t let him die. I promise.”

He frowned at that, deadpanning. “You were going to shoot him in the face twenty minutes ago.”

“Only if he pissed me off enough.” Her face finally came into view as she leaned over, peering down at him. “He’s an idiot. But he’s also part of Mantle. He just needs to be reminded of that sometimes.”

He made a weak protest in the back of his throat. He wasn’t ready for Qrow to know any of that.

Luckily, she didn’t elaborate further, turning her gaze back to the other huntsman. “Get out of here. At this point, you’re our only hope.”

Qrow stared between them, before he sighed in defeat and his hand slipped away.

“No-!“ Clover gasped, blindly trying to take it back and latching onto his wristband. His body shrieked in protest from the sharp movement, but he didn’t let go.

“It’s okay,” Qrow soothed. “I’ll be back.”

He shook his head, or at least he imagined he did, using what strength he had left to shakily pull his arm up until his fingers brushed over the clover always stuck to his chest.  He couldn’t find it in him to speak anymore, so he just stared back at him, pleading for him to understand.

It wasn’t enough. “What? I don’t-?”

“I think he wants you to take it five o’ clock.” Robyn translated, voice uncharacteristically gentle. Until she added, “You can use it as proof.”

Had he not been bleeding out on the streets of his old hometown, Clover might have laughed.

No, he knew his commander wouldn’t halt his path. Not even for him.

But, at least this way, if Qrow made it out of here, he’d have something left of him to remind him by.

If the other man’s twisting expression told him anything, it didn’t seem that meaning was escaping him. The badge was carefully unpinned, Qrow looking down at it as his fingers closed over it securely.

Good.

Clover’s eyes slipped shut.

Good…

He felt something warm against his forehead. Qrow’s voice was closer than ever. “This isn’t goodbye lucky charm. I swear it.”

He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not when he felt the tender press of lips against his own. He felt the loss of their warmth all the same when Qrow backed away. Heard his rapid footsteps that turned into wingbeats as he took off down the street. Almost faded away completely, when Robyn pulled him upwards and the agony wrenched him from blissful unconsciousness.

“Stay with me a bit longer shamrock.” She told him, securing his arm around her neck and letting him rest most of his weight on her. “Can’t die now when you just fell in love.”

“M’not n’love.” He mumbled disjointedly, head lolling against her shoulder.

Her smug smile was only highlighted by the glow where her hand met his wrist. The color caught his attention as seamlessly as Qrow’s eyes.

For they were both red and, in a way, wonderful.

His laugh left him in nothing more than a sharp but joyful exhale.

So, Qrow was that kind of liability huh?

Well now.

Lucky him.

[coruscantexpat]

Bonds Unbroken - Chapter 16: Making Friends

Bodies stretched out in front of her in a shin-deep carpet over the jungle floor. In the distance, a man screamed and blaster fire answered. There was no smoke this time; the air was clear and her saber blades burned bright enough to illuminate her immediate surroundings. It was impossible to tell which of the corpses were Mandalorian and which were Republic - the uniforms were scorched and caked with blood. Her robes were singed in places as well and spattered with gore - the hem was soaked through and dripping dark red. She could feel blood on her face, on her hands, in her hair; the lives of friend and foe alike drying on her skin. The faint sounds of battle continued past the trees, but she was alone, the bodies staring sightlessly up at her, judgement written in the permanent lines of pain and horror on their faces. She clutched her lightsaber, hilt slick with blood and sweat in her child’s hands, and stumbled backward. Her boots slipped on the wet grass and the world tilted, revealing a starless void stretching out above her as she fell, mouth opening in a soundless scream - 

Meetra woke with a start, breath catching in her throat. Atton ceased shaking her shoulder and pulled his hand back, looking as startled as she felt. A towel hung around his neck, moisture beading along his forehead, the arch of his cheekbones, and the line of his nose. His hair was damp and slicked back, though a few rebellious strands threatened to fall over his face. The ribbed jacket was gone again, loose off-white shirt hanging slightly open at his throat. He smiled nervously and took a step back with his hands slightly raised. “You alright?”

“Ah, yes - yeah, I’m fine,” Meetra stammered, pushing herself into a sitting position. She took a breath, pulse slowing as her body caught up with her mind, and returned his smile with a small one of her own. “Sorry. Bad dream.”

“You need to talk about it?”

Her smile curved into a smirk. “You offering?”

“Above my paygrade. I was gonna suggest Her Royal Pain-in-the-Ass.” Atton jabbed a thumb toward Kreia, where she still sat cross-legged in meditation. If she heard him, she refused to acknowledge it. Atton rolled his eyes, as if Kreia’s lack of response was itself an insult, and wiped his face with one end of the towel. “Thought you’d want to know you just missed Grenn. Investigation finished this morning.”

“From the lack of panic, I’m guessing the news is good.”

“Well, don’t get too excited. As far as Telos is concerned, we’re in the clear.” His mouth thinned. “That’s the good news.”

Meetra frowned. “And the bad?”

“Republic’s sending a ship to Telos and we’re to remain on-station until it arrives.”

A ball of anxiety settled in her stomach. “Did he say why?”

Atton shrugged. “Ostensibly, the Republic wants to do its own investigation, since the Harbinger was involved.”

“Do you believe that?”

He met her eyes and didn’t look away. “I believe that’s part of it. I also believe we don’t want to be here when they show up.”

Meetra took a deep breath, forcing the rising panic to the back of her mind. “How long do we have?”

“If the ship’s coming from the core planets or inner rim, I’d say a week; mid-rim, we have a few days. Any closer…” He trailed off meaningfully.

She nodded and swung her legs over the side of the bed, carefully testing her knee as she stood. There was an unsteadiness, a lingering weakness in the joint, but it held her weight with little pain. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Atton trying to pretend he wasn’t hovering and she waved him off, gesturing toward the refresher’s open door. “How’s the water pressure?”

“Like there’s a handful of space rock stuffed down the pipes, but at least it’s hot.” He crossed to his bed and flopped onto it, arms folded behind his head, and flashed her a wicked grin. “Let me know if you need help.”

The lascivious remark startled a laugh out of Meetra and Atton’s smirk softened to a genuine smile. Not serious, then. It was still difficult to tell when he was and wasn’t joking, but she was getting better at it. She shook her head, leaving the barb unanswered, and went to the refresher.

With the door closed behind her, there was barely enough room to move. The refresher was hardly more than a box with a high ceiling. A small toilet sat to her left, catty-corner from the shower cubicle and directly across from a shelving unit set into the wall, the top two sections adorned with several white towels. At the very back of the room was a tiny cleanser for garments. Meetra stripped off her tunic and leggings and threw them in, then turned to the shower, adjusting it to an acceptable temperature before stepping inside.

Atton had been right about the pressure - the weak spray barely ruffled her hair, but at least it swept away the thin layer of grime from her skin. She closed her eyes and tipped her face up into the warm water, relishing in the small luxury. She hadn’t had a proper shower since Belsavis - showers on the Harbinger had been an appropriately military affair.

The thought darkened Meetra’s mood, leaching some of her pleasure from the shower. She’d barely spoken to most of the crew aboard the Harbinger, but their deaths still haunted her. If Kreia was right and the Sith Lord on Peragus had been tracking her, the massacre on the warship was partially her fault. The deaths on Peragus, too, though by a different hand. She leaned against the cubicle wall, forehead pressed against the warm tiles, and let out a weary sigh. The feeling - the sense of being responsible for another’s death - was a familiar one, and it never got any easier. In fact, the guilt felt even more fresh this time - she’d grown too used to exile. At least HK-50 and the Sith Lord had gotten what they deserved.

She finished her shower quickly and stepped out, grabbing one of the towels to dry herself. Her shoulder twinged a bit when she brushed the cloth over it, but like her knee, it was leagues better than it had been the day before. As she toweled her hair dry, the cleanser’s cycle finished, and she pulled the clothes out and dressed, a pleasant shiver running down her spine from the lingering warmth. She hung the damp towel on the corner of an empty shelf to air dry, combed her fingers through her hair, and went back out into the apartment.

As soon as the door slid open, Kreia rose from her mediation and crossed the room, stepping around Meetra into the refresher and closing the door without a word. Meetra stared after her for a moment, then shook her head and glanced toward Atton. He had moved from his bed to the desk, jacket tossed haphazardly over the back of the chair and the damp towel in a puddle near his feet. He was engrossed in the terminal, star charts and navigation maps flashing across its screen. Meetra moved to join him, leaning against the edge of the desk next to him in reverse tableau of their first meeting. “Planning a trip?”

“Quickest, and quietest, way to Nar Shaddaa.” He glanced up at her, gaze lingering on the way her damp hair hung around her face. “Like I said before, I think it’s our best option.”

Meetra frowned. She’d never been to Nar Shaddaa, but the city had a certain… reputation, as evidenced by its colloquial nickname: the Smuggler’s Moon. The fact that it was in Hutt space, orbiting Nal Hutta, their “Glorious Jewel,” didn’t do anything to ease her concern.

Her hesitation must have shown on her face because Atton launched into an explanation. “Republic’s not going to risk angering the Hutts, so even if they follow us, once we reach the surface we’re in the wind as far as they’re concerned. The Sith might… well, no, they’ll probably follow us to the surface, but getting lost in the crowd is easy if you know how.”

He paused and Meetra could tell he was considering whether or not to share his next thought. “Granted… the Exchange’s headquarters is on Nar Shaddaa -” Meetra opened her mouth, but he held up a hand to forestall her response “- but they won’t be expecting a Jedi to hide right under their noses.”

“So our safest course of action is losing our pursuers in a city where looking over your shoulder is a basic tenet of survival?” Atton shrugged and she sighed, lifting a hand to massage her temple - she felt a tension headache coming on. “I doubt the Hutts will be pleased if they find a Jedi in their territory.”

“Trust me, they’re too busy issuing bounties to notice half of what goes on on Nar Shaddaa,” he said, tone confident. “We lay low on the moon for a few days, maybe a week, and lose both the Republic and the Sith. When the coast is clear, you and the old woman can go where you like without being followed.”

She glanced sideways at him. “You’d stay on Nar Shaddaa?”

Atton gave her an odd look. “Well, yeah.” His tone made it clear he thought it should have been obvious to her. “Look, I appreciate the help on Peragus; we make a good team. But fighting Sith - that’s a Jedi’s job.”

Meetra nodded, a mechanical response more than genuine acceptance. Part of her knew she shouldn’t be surprised - Atton was, by his own admission, a smuggler; not exactly a profession inclined to heroism and sacrifice - but it still stung. She desperately needed allies to take on the Sith, and from what she’d seen, Atton was definitely capable, with a lot of skills she could use… and he was right - they did make a good team.

While she mulled this over, Atton watched her closely, gauging her reaction. He disliked telling her about his departure more than he cared to admit, even to himself, but it was the smart move. His desire to avoid more fighting with the Sith had won out over other desires - if only just barely. She met his eyes again and gave him an understanding smile. “You don’t have to stay on Nar Shaddaa. We could take wherever you wanted to go before…” She trailed off, gaze dropping to the floor again.

“I’ll keep it in mind.” He forced a half-smile as she glanced up at him again. “Thanks, Meetra.” Her smile bloomed at his use of her name and the guilt dug itself deeper in his chest.

Full chapter available on AO3 and FFN.