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greyias · 2 years

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FIC: Chance Encounters - Chapter 10

Title: Chance Encounters Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight (pre-relationship) Rating: T Genre: Canon Divergent AU. Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Even the smallest change can have large, unseen ripple effects. When Theron Shan books a voyage on the Esseles, he has no idea how a chance encounter with a Jedi Knight will change the course of his life. A canon divergent alternate universe examining what happens when Theron and the Hero of Tython meet much, much sooner. Author’s Notes and Spoilers: See Chapter 1.

If there was anything to be said about Theron’s unorthodox exit strategy, it was that their landing was mostly a soft one. And wet. And made an unpleasant squelching noise that was probably going to follow him even longer than the smell.

On the more humorous side, Theron might have finally found a foolproof way to pierce Grey’s cheery optimism. As they stumbled and slid down the pile of refuse, the look she fixed on him was caught somewhere between pure disgust and haughty indigence.

“You did that on purpose!” The fire in her eyes might have been more intimidating if her tone hadn’t come out a pure pout. The image of pure indigence was accentuated by the delicate trail of an unidentified substance slowly trickling down the side of her face.

“Saving us from certain capture, excruciating torture, and death? Yes, I think that was on purpose.”

“You pushed me!”

“You were being too slow!” He insisted, which only caused the heat in her glare to increase tenfold. Instinct had him backing up a few steps. “And in my defense, you pushed me with your mumbo jumbo back in engineering.”

“That’s different.” She sniffed indignantly at him before getting a whiff of the incredible smell wafting off them both; her face turned a shade greener.

“You know you have a little something here.” He mimed swiping across his forehead.

Her nose crinkled in annoyance, causing that same smattering freckles to scrunch together again. That, combined with the indignant noise that escaped her throat, nearly did him in. As it was, he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing — which was a mistake, as he got a small taste of the muck and yeah. Okay. Maybe he deserved that a little.

“Look on the bright side,” he said.

“What bright side?”

“You can’t smell the whiskey that was spilled on me anymore.”

Somehow, this seemed to only make her look even more aggrieved. “That’s your bright side?”

“I mean, for me.”

She snorted out a long breath that made her nostrils flare out, and he didn’t think it was all due to irritation this time. “This is not funny, Theron!”

“I’m not laughing!” He insisted, although it was probably not altogether too convincing, as she looked like a leaf-tail whose cheeks were stuffed with cyanoberries.

“You must be the most infuriating person I have ever met!”

For all the heat in her words, she didn’t really sound angry, more… confused. Which was an emotion he had become well acquainted with ever since she had sat down next to him on the Esseles.

“Likewise.” He found himself saying.

For a long moment they just stood there, looking at each other with tense expressions that veiled a tangled mess of emotions like a thicket of nettles. Then she sighed, the anger bled from her features, leaving her looking tired.

“We should probably find a way out of here.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Probably.”

The walk back to the hangar bay was mercifully short and uneventful. They tried to make themselves halfway presentable with some cleaning cloths Theron had stashed in an inner pocket. His beloved jacket would definitely have to be laundered — but he had no clue if the rest of his ensemble would be savable. Someone was definitely going to be paying for his dry cleaning bill. Theron just didn’t know who that would be yet.

Just as he was musing whether he could finagle expensing the whole thing to the SIS without getting an earful from the Director about excessive costs, they rounded the last corner to the hangar bay. However, instead of the wide-open door they’d left, a shimmering red force field blocked their path.

“What the—?”

He was cut off as a figure slammed into the force field from the other side, hitting it so hard that he bounced off and hit the floor with a grunt. With a start, he recognized it as one of the security guards that had accompanied them here. Beyond the pulsating red glow of the barrier, they could only watch as a small squadron of troopers and a figure in a dark hooded robe attacked Asara and the rest of the security team.

Blaster fire rang out as the Esseles crew exchanged fire with the Imperials. In the distance, two more security guards flew up in the air as if being lifted by an invisible force. Theron hesitated only a moment before rushing to the controls on the door, drawing his slicer spike.

“There’s no time for that!” Grey grabbed his wrist and tugged him out of the way.

Before he could even question her, her lightsaber was already in hand. It blazed to life in a burst of blue and she skewered the entire panel with the controls. With a loud pop, the panel sparked and died, and the force field blocking the hangar faded away.

“Well, I guess that’s one way to slice open a door.”

Grey took a precious moment to give him a disgusted look for the poor joke before sprinting off into the hangar, lightsabers in hand. He was right on her heels, his blasters already drawn.

The scene that greeted them as they entered the hangar was one of pure chaos. Acrid smoke wafted up from the surfaces and bodies where blaster fire had found its mark. The final security guard slumped to the floor with a hole in his chest as the hooded figure turned to the disguised Asara, who had been flung to the ground during the battle, and now was desperately crawling backwards to put space between her and their attackers.

The hood obscured the face of the tall, robed figure as his arm stretched out, hand clenching the air dramatically, as if he were grabbing hold of a great unseen weight. Asara let out a choked cry as something yanked her upwards, her eyes going wide as she clawed at her throat to get some air. The figure’s head cocked to the side, as if able to hear — or maybe just sense — their approach and whirled around in one swift move, hand still in the air as Asara struggled helplessly.

The Sith, because what else could he be, was young, probably not any older than Theron, if that. However, his sickly gray pallor made him look aged beyond his years. An expression of what could only be described as glee lit up in his red eyes as his gaze fell on the Jedi rapidly advancing on him. With a positively feral grin, he threw Asara aside, eager to toy with his new prey. The ambassador landed in an ungraceful pile on the floor.

“At last,” the Sith’s words dripped with both venom and anticipation, “Kilran promised me an actual challenge, but I was thinking he wouldn’t deliver.”

Theron slid a look over at Grey, but her gaze didn’t waver from their new opponent. If this was her first time facing off against a user of the dark side, she didn’t let it show, as she had slipped back into that calm, unyielding mask of hers.

“I would ask that you set your weapon aside,” she said in an even, measured tone. “We can settle this peacefully if you let it.”

The Sith let out a loud snort of derision. “Peace is a lie.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Theron muttered. “We’ve all heard the spiel.”

A single, disdainful look was spared for him. “Your betters are speaking, insect.”

Despite himself, Theron’s brows rose in both surprise and indignation, but the only sign that his Jedi companion had even heard the brusque dismissal was a single muscle that twitched along her jaw.

“And does my ‘better’ happen to have a name? Or should we just refer to you as Darth Asshat?”

“You may not refer to me at all,” the Sith bristled. “This is a conversation between two ancient foes.”

“You two literally just met. Your rivalry has all the history of a hundred and twenty seconds.”

“I grow weary of this tiresome babble.” The Sith flicked his eyes back to his target. “Do you not have anything to say for yourself, Jedi?”

“You do not look old enough to have the title of Darth,” she mused. “Nor do I think my companion’s appellation is appropriate.”

“I am Vokk.” The Sith’s face contorted into a sneer. “And with your defeat, I shall prove myself worthy of inheriting the title of Lord.”

When that statement didn’t get the desired reaction, he drew one of his lightsabers in a smooth motion. The red blade bursting to life with a loud snap-hiss. It cast an eerie glow across his unnatural gray pallor and seemed to almost make the red in his eyes aglow with power and madness.

“The way of a true Sith is to destroy a dangerous foe. I will carve your heart from your chest — and your fellow Jedi will sense your defeat. As will my master!”

“O-kay,” Theron dramatized the word by drawing it out, “someone has an active imagination.”

Grey’s lips quivered between stoic resolve and a smile threatening to erupt. Ultimately, common sense won the battle as her expression steadied into its now familiar facade, even as Vokk’s expression twisted with outrage.

“Do not worry, worm, I will cut your tongue out with my lightsaber once I finish with my foe.”

“Oh, good. I was feeling left out of this conversation.”

“Sparky, I think to be left out, you must stop talking first.” Grey’s expression didn’t budge from its neutral mask, but he thought he heard the barest trace of humor threaded through the comment. But still, point taken.

“All right, Blondie,” he emphasized the nickname as he shot her a look. “Why don’t I leave you two to your ancient struggle of light versus dark, then? Me and the boys here will make do on our own.” He motioned to the troopers behind Vokk with his head.

Apparently Vokk had tired of not being the center of attention for several seconds in a row, and stabbed a lightsaber straight for Grey’s heart. She deftly parried the blow with a flick of her wrist, sparks flying as the two blades met.

Theron pushed away from the spot, twisting to shoot at the troopers as he dove for cover behind a stack of nearby crates. The aim was wild, but the effect was to send the troopers scattering back out of range. They returned fire, their shots going wide and hitting the floor, walls, and ceiling as he quickly ducked behind his impromptu cargo shield.

From his shelter behind the crates, a sharp bark of laughter momentarily grabbed his attention. Instinctively he turned to the source of the sound to see the two force users locked in a dangerous dance, their feet moving with a startling speed. The result was a blur of red and blue as their blades clashed together repeatedly in a colorful shower of sparks, with neither opponent gaining any ground on the other.

His attention was pulled back to his current situation when a blaster bolt pinged dangerously close, punching a smoking hole in the crate just inches from his head. While Theron had been distracted, one bolder trooper had left cover and repositioned to get a better shot at him behind his temporary cover. His targeting implant adjusted his arm minutely, helping him aim precisely at the narrow gap between the chest plate and shoulder guard — and the trooper went down with a cry.

The close call sent a surge of adrenaline through him. Outnumbered as he was, it would be tempting to lean into the rush and let it buzz through his veins, to allow the red haze to descend and fog his awareness. A distant echo from the past rose unbidden: Ngani Zho telling him to open his mind to the present situation, to allow awareness to fill him and distractions to fall away. There was always a solution to every problem. It was just a matter of being open to its possibility.

Perhaps some lingering resentment should have surged forth, but he didn’t have the luxury to indulge in it right now. Instead of squashing down the voice like usual, he chose to listen to the words instead. He took in a deep breath to center himself, and then surveyed the room, taking everything in and processing in it.

The remaining troopers had sought refuge behind some half-unloaded cargo — and forgotten, judging by the layer of dust that had settled across the tarp stretched across it. They would peek out from behind it to take potshots at him, but had apparently been so focused on him, they’d missed the bright red warning sign on one barrel labeling its materials as highly explosive. One well-aimed shot would probably be enough to pierce the barrel and ignite the materials inside.

Theron weighed a few other tactics before taking aim at the barrel and pulling the trigger. The shot plowed into the barrel, punching a hole straight through and drawing a burst of sparks that set the volatile chemicals inside ablaze. Rather than reveling in his success, he immediately took off running in the opposite direction to put as much space between him and the oncoming inferno.

The ground shook beneath him as the barrel detonated into a fireball that sent the bodies of the troopers flying. He leapt over another stack of crates, flames and debris flying towards him, and narrowly escaping a chunk of jagged metal hurtling at him. Distantly, he could hear it clatter and scrape against the ground as his ears rang from the blast. He landed in a crouch and peeked back to see a large blackened ring where the cargo had been.

During all of this, the lightsaber duel had moved closer to Theron. He looked over in time to see one of Vokk’s red blades come down in a heavy blow aimed at Grey’s head. She caught it between her two crossed lightsabers in front of her. His guts clenched in anxiety as he waited for the larger, more imposing figure to force down his opponent’s blades. But he’d forgotten how capable she was, and to his relief and amazement watched as she reversed the momentum of the strike and sent her opponent stumbling backwards.

Vokk let out a bellow of rage and frustration at being outmaneuvered, quickly regained his footing. His eyes blazed with rage at Grey, but she returned the stare with an almost unnatural calm. This steadfast confidence from his mortal enemy of three minutes only made Vokk angrier.

Hate practically radiated off of the Sith apprentice. He snarled, looking around wildly until his gaze landed on Theron and the burning chaos and wreckage wrought by the spy.

“You,” he seethed.

Vokk gave a quick flick of the wrist, and Theron’s entire world became a blur as he went flying across the room. He slammed into the ground, his head bouncing off the floor with the impact. Stars exploded across his vision, darkness flickering at the edges. The first sensation to register beyond the wildly spinning world was the cool, metal grating pressing into his cheek and a distant ringing in his ears.

He pushed up onto his elbows and tried to get his bearings. The world swam out of focus with the movement, and it took a moment for his vision to clear. The various blurs of the world came into sharp focus just in time to see an airborne Vokk, triumph and hatred gleaming in his eyes as his lightsaber aimed to cleave Theron in two. Even if Theron had his full faculties at that moment, he had barely enough time to process the scene, let alone react.

Someone shouted something that might have been his name before a vision of tan and gold slid out of nowhere in the split second before Vokk skewered him. He had hardly recovered any of his precious equilibrium when it was once more upended by something considerably more substantial than Vokk’s Force throw, and he once again was sent flying backward.

This second landing was softer, but the world still pitched sickeningly as he hit the ground with a grunt of pain. He had just enough presence of mind to roll with the impact this time, shoving himself up into a half-crouch as everything swayed with the movement. It took another precious moment for him to focus again and understand what had just happened.

Grey was standing in the area where he’d just been pushed away from, her eyes wide and face pale. She held up a single saber in front of herself as a defensive gesture, a tremble running through the typically firm stance. Theron’s relief at being alive quickly gave way to horror as he saw her other arm hanging uselessly at her side. The sleeve of her shirt and tunic burned away completely. Blackened flesh peeked out underneath the tattered remains of the sleeve. Her second lightsaber had been flung several feet away as she’d received a glancing blow from Vokk’s lightsaber when she’d thrown herself between it and Theron.

The Sith’s mouth curved into a wicked smile as he raised his twin blades to strike a blow at the injured Jedi.

The darkness at the edges of Theron’s vision brightened into an crimson that pulsed in time to his rapid heartbeat and the pounding in his head. He hadn’t even registered that his fingers were tightening around his blasters, nor was there any thought in his mind other than a percolating anger quickening, boiling over into rage. He didn’t bother to aim, letting his targeting implants do the work as he unloaded shot after shot at Vokk.

The Sith was caught off guard by the sudden onslaught from a presumably downed foe, retreating several paces as he narrowly deflected the blaster fire. Red eyes first widened in disbelief, then narrowed in rage as he raised his hand to use the Force once more.

Dark purple electricity arced from Vokk’s fingertips, but this time Theron was ready and rolled out of the way from his semi-crouched position. The moment he had cleared the blast zone, Theron was struggling to his feet, firing wildly in Vokk’s direction with both blasters.

A few of the wild shots hit their mark, and smoke curled up from Vokk’s singed flesh. He snarled in pain and fury and his hand shot out again to send another blast at Theron. Before the Dark Side energy could finish crackling and unfurling from his fingertips, the snarl turned into a sickened gasp. Vokk looked down to see a single blue blade buried hilt-deep in his chest.

Vokk’s knees buckled as disbelief and anger warred in his expression. His gaze first shifted to Grey, whose face was set in a grim and determined mask, then up to meet Theron’s unflinching stare. As if, even in his last moments, he couldn’t comprehend the fact that this puny Force-blind spy had contributed to the downfall of this supposed great and mighty Sith.

With a final hiss, Grey’s saber deactivated, the blue light vanishing as Vokk collapsed facedown with a thud. Her lips pressed together, face set into an unreadable expression as she stared at the body at her feet. Even though she was still standing, it was clear at this point she’d exhausted the seemingly infinite reserves she’d been drawing on all day.

Sweat beaded on her forehead and neck, dripping down beneath the collar of the ruined tunic. With her good arm, she still held the hilt of her lightsaber with a white knuckled grip, her posture so rigidly tensed it seemed she might break with the slightest movement. Her injured arm still hung limply, the wound clearly visible through the charred cloth of her sleeve. The lightsaber blade had cauterized immediately it, so it wasn’t bleeding freely, but still looked extremely painful.

When she eventually raised her head to meet Theron’s gaze, exhaustion and pain shone through the cracks in her stoic mask.

“Are you okay?” Her question came out almost as a breath as her legs gave out and she collapsed to the ground.

His lunging forward to catch her was more of a natural reaction than an active thought. The entire world swayed with the sudden movement, his stomach clenching uncomfortably as his equilibrium tried to catch up. He grabbed her just barely, and eased them both gently to the floor.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, too quickly and entirely unconvincing.

“You,” he muttered as they both slumped against each other, their foreheads touching, “are the most stubborn woman I have ever met.”

“Your face.” With her good hand she reached towards where his head had hit the ground, but seemed to realize what she was doing at the last moment and let it drop.

He winced, now that the adrenaline was fading, noticed the cool sensation of trickling liquid, and belatedly realized that maybe it wasn’t all sweat. “We certainly make a fine pair, don’t we?”

The laugh she let out was quiet and strained, but there was a note of fondness behind it. “Now that’s not something I ever thought I’d hear you say, Sparky.”

His chuckle was half-hearted. “I thought I told you to call me Theron.”

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

In the wake of the battle and surrounded by carnage, the hangar was eerily quiet. Compared to the earlier cacophony of blaster fire, explosions, and lightsaber combat, the relative silence was a stark contrast. The only sound outside of their haggard breathing was the fizzling from the flaming debris of the cargo that Theron had used as an impromptu incendiary device.

“We should get moving,” she said after a moment, “before—”

The loudspeakers drowned her out as Kilran’s voice seeped out of the crackling speakers. “I’ve just given the order to charge up our main turbo lasers. In a few minutes, your pathetic ship and all of your pathetic friends will be nothing but debris.”

“That?” Theron asked.

“That.” Grey breathed a sigh.

“No rest for the weary.”

“I am afraid not. Can you check on the ambassador?” At her question, Theron’s gaze settled back on her injured arm and she shook her head at him softly, as if sensing his thoughts. “Despite my injury, I am still capable of walking.”

The skepticism must have shown on his face, because she gave a soft huff of exasperation as she pushed herself to her feet with a single movement. He didn’t bother to check the frustration in his own sigh as he carefully picked himself up. Thankfully, the world was deciding to stop spinning so much, and he could make his way over to Asara. She was conscious, and even if her thanks were uttered hoarsely as he pulled her upright.

She looked around at the smoldering mess of the hangar, and the bodies of both their attackers and the security guards that had given their lives in her defense. Her brows bunched up into genuine contrition. “So much death.”

“Too much,” he agreed quietly.

“We don’t have time to take them with us, do we?” Her voice was still quiet and raw from the abuse she’d taken at the hands of Vokk. At the soft shake of his head, she bowed her head. “Then we get back to the ship to save what lives we can.”

After retrieving her lightsabers, Grey had joined them at the shuttle. As she eyed the pilot’s seat with intent, Theron made an executive decision and firmly steered the stubborn Jedi to a bench in the back of the shuttle, while Asara quickly took her place at the controls.

It was was for the best. Of the three survivors of their little counter-boarding party, at this moment, Asara was the best candidate to pilot the shuttle. She had a clear enough head and vision to operate the controls, or at least, better than a one-armed Jedi and a possibly concussed spy.

As they took off and cleared the hangar, Theron stared out the view port at the wreckage and bodies of their fallen comrades. There had been too much death and bloodshed. But perhaps — he thought as he looked back at Grey, leaning against the bench, clutching her injured arm — it hadn’t all been in vain.

Next Chapter

#swtor fanfiction #theron shan x jedi knight #Theron Shan #Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython #oc: greyias highwind #otp: adorkable #au: chance encounters #swtor #fanfic #greyfic #finally managed to wrangle this monster #(i think)#in which theron does what he does best #snark at bad guys #and cause absolute chaos wherever he goes

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