#she's perfectly fine keeping theron in the dark and letting him get captured by the revanites

[queen-scribbles]

nooooo I thought I had dialogue screenshots bc Keye’s my first Outlander to not tell Lana Valkorion is living in her brain and Lana got mad over not being trusted (gee, Lana, wonder if it had anything to do with Rishi and Ziost) and I wanted it preserved for posterity. I know I could just rerun chapter six but that’s annoying and I wanna keep moving forward, not redo stuff. :\ Why didn’t they take?

[keldae]

Drastic Measures (Chapter Twenty-One)

Night fell over Coronet City, covering the wounds left from the Cold War that hadn’t healed in the three years since the Imperial bombardment. Right now, some of those old wounds served a helpful purpose — Jonas Balkar crouched in such a scar, a crater created by any one of countless bombs, holding his breath until the Skytrooper patrol passed without seeing him. The Corellians, always a thorn in the side of the Empire, had been enough of a nuisance to Zakuul that Eternal Empire forces now roamed the streets, enforcing a harsh curfew until the Star Fortress was completed. The imposing monolith would then take over surveillance and security of the planet.

Once the coast was clear, Jonas crept across the street and through the plaza littered with old industrial structures, making his way to a rusty grate built into the wall. He tapped a code against the durasteel, and a minute later, the grate opened enough for him to slip inside. The Selonian who’d let him in gestured down the corridor with her paw. “You’re almost late. The meeting is starting.”

“Sorry, got stuck in traffic,” Jonas muttered as he slipped around the other rebel. “Thanks.” He hurried off down the old tunnel, stumbling more than once on old rubble and cursing under his breath.

He finally made it to the large underground chamber, somewhere below Axial Park. “Sorry I’m late,” he apologized to the rest of the resistance cell leaders as he all but flopped onto an overturned barrel. “Skytroopers are changing their patrol routes.”

“Yeah, we noticed.” Cole Cantarus frowned under the dim, flickering lights. “My CorSec forces are scrambling to figure out the new routes. Lost two guys yesterday.”

“Zakuul’s got the entire galaxy in a blasted chokehold,” grumbled a female voice. Risha Drayen brushed a lock of dark hair out of her eyes that had escaped the messy bun at the back of her head. “And there’s still no word about Master Taerich or Agent Shan.”

“Not quite true,” Cole corrected. “Got an update from the storm system. They’ve been found, and they’re on Dantooine. Master Shan brought them in today.”

“That’s a relief,” Jonas said with a sigh. “Because the last solid intel the SIS had placed them with either Darth Imperius or Cipher Nine on Dromund Kaas. Apparently Master Taerich’s related to Imperius -- who knew?”

“… To be fair,” spoke another voice, breaking the stunned silence that had followed Jonas’ report, “Xaja has never been one for sane, reasonable plans.” The Corellian Barsen’thor, Jakar Forseti, leaned forward. The lights cast the scars on his face into stark shadows and just glinted off the hilt of the saberstaff he carried under his jacket. “And she was friendly with Imperius during the Revanite crisis. If they are related, I suppose insanity must run in the family.”

“Theron’s never been fond of logical plans either,” Jonas muttered, thinking back on his friend who had always preferred climbing through windows to walking through perfectly fine doors. “He and Master Taerich are completely meant for each other.”

“How romantic,” Risha deadpanned. “Any comm chatter about where they are now?”

“None,” spoke up the last conspirator. Bey’wan Aygo crossed his arms over his chest and stroked the fur extending from his chin. “If the Republic got so much as a whisper as to where they are, you know Saresh would be going after them -- whispers they won’t be getting from us.” He glanced at Jonas, got an agreeing nod, and continued speaking. “Fortunately for them, most of the chatter has concerned the contract put out for Imperius and Cipher Nine.”

“As if we didn’t have enough with just Zakuul and the Republic involved.” Jonas sighed and looked up at the roof of the cavern. “Wonderful. Thunder hasn’t issued any new orders?”

“Stay on alert; keep pissing off the Zaks; and if Dantooine is compromised, we haul ass to get people out of there alive.” Cole shrugged. “The usual.”

“I thought Thunder was supposed to be keeping the Imps from getting involved in all this,” Bey’wan muttered. “Guess they ran out of influence when Imperius and Nine jumped in anyway. Of course, if Imperius is Master Xaja’s brother, I don’t blame him for getting involved.”

“It wouldn’t be the greatest surprise revelation I’ve heard during this entire war and rebellion,” Jakar muttered. “The Green Jedi have heard nothing regarding Xaja or Theron, or the hunt for Imperius and Nine.”

“That’s because the Green Jedi have their heads so far up their asses, it’s a miracle they can hear anything,” Risha retorted.

Jakar’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but before he could say anything, Bey’wan quickly interrupted. “Does anyone know what the status of the Republic’s manhunt for them is?”

“My contact in the SIS says Saresh is ready to tear planets apart, looking for them,” Jonas answered. “Especially after Supreme Commander Malcom resigned his post and walked out. Our reporting suggests he’s on Alderaan, possibly working with the storm system. And the rumor is that he’s Theron’s biological father.”

“… That does make things complicated,” Jakar said flatly. “Any news from the other cells?”

“Tatooine managed a decent hit against Zakuul,” Cole reported, “according to Captain Korin. He took down one of the Star Fortress towers, and is planning to infiltrate the Fortress skeleton itself to find a weakness. He might be getting Imperius to help, since he just arrived to the cell after escaping Dromund Kaas. Zakuul hasn’t retaliated yet, which is surprising.”

“Probably because Arcann’s hyper-focused on finding Master Taerich and Agent Shan,” Risha said. “One rebel strike probably isn’t more than a blip on his radar.”

“Hopefully he gets distracted by the Empire’s involvement in all of this and doesn’t find them under their current rock,” Jonas muttered. “They’re not stupid -- they have to know they can’t stay in one place. With any luck, they’ll be long gone from the Enclave by the time the Zaks think to look there.” He knew the odds weren’t high, but for his friend, and for the Jedi that Jakar claimed as one of his own friends, he desperately wanted to hold onto that hope.

“That’s a long shot at best,” Jakar said quietly. He offered a taut smile, but his eyes were shaded with worry.

After spending the better part of a standard month running across the galaxy and hiding from unfriendly eyes, even if she had been with her family or Theron the entire time, Xaja finally started to feel like the galaxy was stabilizing under her feet as she immersed herself in the hidden Jedi Enclave. Never minding that this was a rough network of chambers hidden in abandoned kinrath tunnels, with none of the trappings of the Tython Temple, or the constant sense of readiness among the rebel Jedi hidden here — simply the atmosphere of being among other members of the Order was a soothing balm to Xaja’s stressed spirit, especially after the corrupting darkness of Dromund Kaas. As she walked through the tunnels with Kira, quietly catching up with each other, she almost felt at home.

If one discounted the lack of personal possessions, or the constant patrols and monitoring of comms relays, or the paranoid suspicion of most of the other Jedi.

“You found Doc on Rishi?” Kira asked as the two Jedi paced through an old chamber, their voices and bootsteps echoing softly off the walls. “We all got split up during the war, never found out what happened to him. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad he’s okay.”

“Or he was last time I checked,” Xaja nodded, sidestepping to avoid a collision with a dark-haired half-Miraluka woman she vaguely remembered from Tython. “The last I’ve heard, there was still a notice out for his capture, so I’m assuming he’s still fine.” She tilted her head to study Kira — at close range now, she could see the constant tension in her former Padawan’s face, even in the caves’ dim light, and the dark bags under her eyes. “He didn’t know what happened to any of you though. What happened?”

“A lot of it’s a blur,” Kira admitted. “For the first months, it was just fighting and trying to stay alive. I went back to Tython, wound up helping some of the Padawans there go into hiding before Zakuul found the Temple. After the Republic surrendered, I started hearing rumours of a resistance network building across the entire galaxy — Empire, Republic, Hutt Space, you name it. Myself and the rest of the Jedi who still wanted to fight came out here. It kinda started out as a halfway house for injured Jedi running from the Zaks, but then we started picking up more and more able-bodied Force users, even a couple of Sith. Thunder established contact with us early on, and Master Satele’s been checking in on us.”

“I’m glad you’re okay and survived all of that.” Xaja squeezed Kira’s arm and got a smile from the younger Jedi. “Have you heard anything about the others?”

“Nothing about Scourge. He just kinda dropped off the face of the galaxy not long after the invasion. And like I said, I lost track of Doc early on. But Rusk joined the resistance too, after the siege ended.”

Xaja blinked. “He did?”

“Yeah. We get updates fairly regularly.” Kira grinned. “Your brother comes by sometimes, and your dad’s dropped in once or twice, both times for supply or intel drops. Korin let Guss and Corso stay here -- Guss so he could train with the Force again, and Corso because, well… we needed a token non-Jedi or non-Forcie person to interact with the rest of the planet for us.”

Reanden hadn’t mentioned travelling to the other resistance cells or seeing Kira, although Xaja supposed that her father had had a few too many things on his mind to tell her about this. “When was Korin last here?”

“About two months ago, give or take?” Kira’s shoulders raised in a shrug. “He’s also resistance, running between all the cells and assorted drop points.” She paused. “He won’t admit it, but I strongly suspect he stole Tee-Seven off of Coruscant.”

“That asshole,” Xaja muttered. “He better not be corrupting my droid.” Kira snickered in agreement, and for a few minutes there was only the sounds of their footsteps.

Kira finally spoke again, her voice soft and subdued. “We watched that ship disintegrate. Korin did, too, while he was guarding us and following us back to Coruscant. How the hells did you survive it?”

“I don’t know.” Xaja shook her head, frowning. “I was unconscious when the Zaks somehow captured Marr and myself. I woke up en route to Zakuul.” She felt a tired smile tug at her lips. “Long story short, Marr and I got hauled up in front of Vitiate wearing a new meatsuit—”

“What?!” Kira’s face drained pale, even in the dim light. “But how the—? He— Revan— Ziost—!”

“I don’t know either. But Marr and I… we could tell it was him. Nobody else in the galaxy feels that evil.” Xaja scowled. “He killed Marr when he refused to kneel, then after I mouthed off at him and called him a microscopically-endowed gizka-blowing coward—” Kira laughed at that. “— then he told Arcann to kill me. Arcann freed me instead and attacked his father, and when I had the chance… I took it.”

“Good,” Kira growled. “That bastard can die a thousand times over for what he did to us, and the rest of the galaxy. Still doesn’t explain how you were dead for over two years though.”

“Oh, that? The Force-damned son of a bitch told the guards that I was an assassin sent to kill his father and had me thrown in carbonite,” Xaja answered, with a flippancy she didn’t feel. She felt sick to her stomach again, remembering the terror of the minutes between being thrown back by the wave of the Force tearing out of Vitiate’s latest body and being dragged into the carbonite chamber, screaming and fighting every step of the way, to no avail…

The bond warmed as Theron nudged her, sensing her fear. Xaja made herself take a breath to calm herself before pushing a small burst of reassurance at him. Okay. Memories. She immediately felt his worry and a cold anger under the surface, and nudged at him again. Okay now. You saved me. The worry shifted into relief and love as Theron finally relaxed, satisfied that she was all right for the moment.

“And Agent Superhero saved the day by somehow finding you in the Spire.” Kira shook her head. “Would love to know how he knew where you were. Everyone was convinced you were dead.” Xaja felt a burst of sadness from her Padawan in the Force. “Korin and I… after we got back to Coruscant, we went and told him what had happened, figured he deserved to know directly instead of through reports. He…” Kira sighed. “Theron didn’t take it well. You know that face people make when they want to scream or cry, but they just can’t, and everything just kinda shuts down? He just… crumpled.”

Oh, that hurt, she thought, to know how badly Theron had taken her loss. For a second, an image flashed in Xaja’s mind of Theron falling to his knees in his small Coruscant apartment, the spy facade on his face shattering to show anguish as he crumpled in on himself, unable to cope with the pain. Xaja closed her eyes against the burning sensation she could feel, and reached back along their bond with the strongest wave of love and comfort that she could muster. She could feel Theron losing his breath at the overwhelming sensation before he pushed back at her with a burst of love for her. That nearly did make the tears come — she had to blink away the moisture in her eyes.

“Huh, that was weird.” Kira had her head tilted at Xaja, quirking an eyebrow at her former mentor as she nudged at the Force around them. “I knew you two were a thing before… y’know… but did you have a bond like that before?”

“No, this is a recent development.” Xaja looked around the corridor, making sure they were alone, before lowering her voice. “I accidentally formed a bond with him on Rishi, right before we found out I was dying of complications from the carbonite poisoning.” She gestured for Kira to remain quiet when the taller woman’s eyes flashed wide in horror, then continued. “My other brother managed to get me medical treatment on Dromund Kaas, but it affected my Force connection. My dad took us to Voss, and the healers did a ritual on us that strengthened the  bond, making it deeper and permanent.”

“For what, emotional connection?” Kira frowned in confusion.

“No, but it’s a side bonus.” Xaja raked her hands through her hair. “What I tell you does not leave this corridor.” At Kira’s nod, she continued. “The bond’s main purpose was twofold: Half of it was restoring my Force connection, and half of it…” She sighed, feeling sick again despite Theron’s reassuring presence in her mind. His wasn’t the only presence she could feel. “… I picked up a mind parasite on Zakuul… one you’re familiar with. The bond keeps him suppressed so he can’t possess me.”

She watched as Kira’s expressions and Force-signature shifted from confused to horrified to furious to steely determination, all within the space of a few seconds. “Good. Let me know if you need any more help with dealing with that brain fucker.” The younger Jedi reached up and squeezed the other’s arms. “You didn’t abandon me when you knew what was in my head, Master. I’m not ditching you now. We’ll deal with this bastard, one way or another.”

The Killik tunnels that connected Organa Castle to the hidden resistance base in the Juran Mountains still made Jace shudder every time he walked through them. No matter that he had been assured by their diplomat Joiner, a former Imperial named Vector Hyllus, that the Killiks were allies and meant no harm, it was still unnerving to walk through the insectoid lairs, stepping around the large, violet eggs, trying to not breathe in the scents. And that was before taking into account the unnatural black eyes and clicking noises of the human Joiners who had become part of the nest. Jace wasn’t too proud to say he was having disturbing dreams about the Joiners.

But the important thing was that if they creeped him out, they terrified the Zakuulans. There were four Zakuulan Joiners, wandering around in the rags of what used to be their uniforms. The rest of the Eternal Empire’s forces seemed to have given up, for fear of being brainwashed themselves.

Jace walked into a substantial cavern, deep under the mountains. Once, this had been an extension of the Killik hive — now it was part of the resistance network that spread through a significant chunk of the planet, extending as far as Rist territory. The warring houses of Alderaan could unify against a common enemy, it seemed. They weren’t the only ones — numerous clusters of mingled Imperials and Republic personnel filled the cave. Jace blinked when he saw a Hutt on one platform, emphatically gesturing to a monitor in front of him as he tried to explain something to a Republic scientist with a longsuffering expression on his face, then shook his head and kept walking. Apparently the Hutts had their own grudges against Zakuul.

He made his way to another platform, feeling the conversation fade to a hush at his presence. “You wanted to speak to me?” he rumbled, looking at the resistance personnel before him.

“We did.” Vector offered Jace a shallow bow, then turned back to the computer behind him. “We have received intelligence from the storm system, Commander. Agent Shan and Master Taerich have been located.”

Jace’s heart jumped into his throat. “Where?”

“Dantooine.” Doctor Kimble turned to Jace, looking visibly relieved for the first time since he had arrived on Darth Imperius’ ship, having fled Dromund Kaas in a hurry. “The Grand Master found them and brought them to the resistance cell there.”

Satele found them? Jace felt a knot in his back loosen with that good news. “That’s good to hear.” He suddenly paused. “Weren’t they with Cipher Nine before? Is he in the cell too?”

“No.” The only woman on the platform, a Corellian Jedi named Mairen Bel Iblis, barely glanced up from the computer she was working on. “I received a notification from my station chief on Nar Shaddaa. He’s picked up Cipher Nine, who says he doesn’t know where Master Shan took Master Taerich and Agent Shan.” Judging from how the redhaired Jedi-turned-spy pursed her lips, Jace guessed she didn’t fully buy Cipher Nine’s story — not that he could blame her. Imperial spies were devious and talented liars, and Cipher Nine, being one of the oldest agents in the field, was something of a legend for how damned good he was at his job. It was a pity that he couldn’t be persuaded to defect. “Apparently he left them on Voss and went to cause a distraction.”

“Voss?” Jace crossed his arms over his broad chest in thought. “Why would they go to Voss?”

He was answered with a chorus of silent shrugs. “It’s difficult to say,” Doctor Lokin said, stroking his beard. Looking much like a kind grandfather, he should have felt trustworthy — but Jace couldn’t forget that he was retired Imperial Intelligence, and one of Cipher Nine’s comrades. Assets who lived to be that old were dangerous. “Master Taerich was ill from the side effects of carbonite poisoning, one of which was all but losing her access to the Force. She may have gone to Voss for healing when our medical treatment didn’t restore her connection.”

“Or they may have wished to stay out of sight of the rest of the galaxy,” Vector suggested. “Voss is neutral territory still, and expansive enough that they could have tried to hide.”

“Two humans on Voss would stick out like Hutts in the Senate,” Doctor Kimble muttered. “I’m with Lokin on this one. Xa— Master Taerich probably went for healing. But what was Master Shan doing there?”

Jace shrugged. He’d known Satele the longest, and he couldn’t identify what would have led her to the alien planet. The Zakuulan Knight, Senya Tirall, had said Satele planned on going there, but she hadn’t known why. “Takes a Jedi to understand a Jedi,” he grunted, offering a rueful smile in apology when Mairen cut her eyes at him. “Senya Tirall knew Master Shan’s destination, but not the reason. Perhaps Master Shan was in contact with Cipher Nine?” That thought made him feel sick… but Cipher Nine wouldn’t have been the first Imperial Satele had worked with. Jace wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

Lokin and Vector looked at each other before shrugging. “It’s possible,” Lokin finally said. “Agent Taerich never shared all of his contacts with us, and always likes to have a card or three up his sleeve. I believe he’s worked with Jedi before as well — why, I didn’t see fit to ask. In this instance though, he probably would have put feelers out for a Jedi where his daughter was concerned.”

“Hmmm.” The idea of the infamous Cipher Nine as a caring father to a Jedi, worried about her continued safety, seemed incongruous to his reputation as a ruthless Imperial saboteur and assassin. Grimacing, Jace dismissed the possibility from his thoughts for the time being. “Perhaps Master Taerich or Master Shan can give us answers directly.” He turned to march off the platform with a purposeful stride. “Send word for my ship to be prepped. I’m heading to Dantooine to get some answers.” It wasn’t enough to hear through the storm system that Theron was alive and safe for the moment — he needed to see his son, dammit, and probably tear him a new one for scaring him with that blasted suicide note.

So consumed by concern for his own son, he didn’t notice Master Bel Iblis’ brow creasing in a frown as she watched him walk away. She sighed, then grimaced before turning back to her console and the data that awaited her.

It wasn’t a difficult task to find information on Xaja Taerich; Lord Kallig, also known as Darth Imperius; or Reanden Taerich, the mysterious agent previously known only as Cipher Nine after the Cold War. All three members of the family seemed to have made large ripples wherever they went, with Master Taerich having made the largest metaphorical splash. Kovach was impressed — he had seen the Jedi in action and knew she was damned good at her job, but hadn’t realized that she had been a certifiable badass since she was only a Jedi Padawan, taking down a powerful Dark Jedi on Tython, who had defeated even her Master.

Of course, trying to nail down the story of their origins was difficult.

So far, he had found Reanden Taerich’s academy records from his early recruitment into the Imperial Military, noting he had almost immediately been snatched up by Imperial Intelligence. Top marks, top aptitude scores, a reputation for ruthlessness and clever improvisation in the field, and a small flag for his apparent hatred of Force-users. Kovach supposed he couldn’t blame the older agent — he would hate Force-users too if he’d had the Wrath for a brother. But his records had been wiped clean shortly thereafter, with only the odd mention of a classified mission for a few years before it appeared he dropped off the map entirely for five years. He resurfaced on Hutta only a few years ago, under orders from Keeper to ensure Nem’ro allied with the Empire. There was no mention of a wife or lover, nor of any children, in the Imperial archives.

If Imperius is his son, then he should have been flagged as Force-sensitive at birth and registered with the Korriban Academy, Kovach mused. Taerich must have gone back and erased the data to keep his children hidden. On a whim, he still ran a search for Sorand Taerich, and got nothing. Xaja Taerich’s only results were of an Imperial prisoner record, and a hit notice for her head after she assassinated the Emperor.

He frowned as he accessed Korriban’s records, looking for the recruit who would become Darth Imperius. But of course, the boy had been brought to the Academy as a fifteen-year-old slave, and had said almost nothing about his origins. Even the name he had used (when not being addressed as ‘slave’ by Harkun) had only been “Rand.” The Sith Lord who had plucked the human out of the slave pens hadn’t known where he had come from — she had just informed the traders holding him that he would be going with her, and killed the first one to object.

But the Sith said that the boy claimed the slavers had killed his father in front of him. It was why he had embraced the Dark Side to kill in revenge. Kovach frowned — was Cipher Nine actually Imperius’ father? Or had the teenager been mistaken?

He shook his head and opened up another screen, slicing into Republic archives. No mention of Reanden Taerich or Sorand Taerich here either, but Xaja Taerich had plenty of results. He sighed as he scrolled through HoloNet report after report about the legendary Jedi Knight who had killed Darth Angral, convinced Lord Scourge to defect; led the Jedi forces on Corellia; assassinated the Emperor; killed Grand Moff Kilran; fought and won against Revan himself… had personally put Kovach in an armlock and driven her knee into his back until he had confessed to Theron Shan who he was truly working for. He’d never forgiven her for that. His back still ached where she had knelt on him, driving all one hundred pounds of her body weight into his kidneys and growling angry threats into his ear.

He shook his head and skimmed past the public reports of the Jedi’s heroism. No birth certificate — perhaps she hadn’t been born as a Republic citizen. Her identicard had no homeworld listed, nor parents or living kin. He frowned, then sliced into the Jedi Archives, grateful that Saresh had made the Order keep their records open to the Republic. Here, he found the legal document of custody transferal, signed by her mother when she was handed over to the Jedi Order. Why didn’t her father sign the form as well? Did he not know about his daughter being handed over? But at least now there was a name for the mother — Airna Taerich, with no evidence of a maiden name, and a classified name for her husband.

An idea suddenly struck Kovach’s mind, and he grinned as he accessed the SIS’s archives again with his own credentials. Theron Shan’s files had been made accessible when he was identified as a person of interest in Master Taerich’s escape from Zakuul. He wasn’t too interested in looking for the rogue agent’s own backstory — he wanted what Theron had compiled on Taerich before recruiting her for the Korriban attack. Despite his half-baked execution plans, Theron had always been meticulous in his research for big operations like that.

He was briefly surprised to note that Captain Korin, the privateer who had joined the op as well, had no files under Theron’s stack of research. Perhaps Theron had wiped that data? But he left Master Taerich’s up — she was legally dead, after all, and there was no reason to hide her identity. He shrugged and turned his attention to the Jedi’s file, silently thanking Theron for doing his work for him.

Training records… service records… Oh, a Sacking survivor. Kovach almost felt pity for the Jedi at that. Trained by Yvaine Allende and Orgus Din, both deceased… Oh, that’s interesting. The Green Jedi of Corellia claimed that she was the child of one of their own and therefore Corellian, despite a reported birth world of Lavisar. Airna Taerich, were you a Corellian Jedi? Then why was your child given to Coruscant?

He accessed Corellian citizenship records and grinned. Jackpot. Airna Drallig had been a Corellian Jedi, and had been about the right age to be Xaja Taerich and Sorand Taerich’s mother. But she had reportedly left Corellia less than a year before her daughter’s birth, seduced by an Imperial spy, and had died in Imperial space a decade ago. At least now we have the mother identified — and she’s no longer a concern. He leaned back in his seat, rubbing his hand over his chin. Well, my little red haired Jedi, how were you and Imperius connected before Ziost?

He cross-referenced the data on Taerich and Imperius, and nodded when he saw they had wound up working together on Manaan, and then on Rakata Prime, and again on Rishi and Yavin IV. He raised an eyebrow when he saw they had been a part of the respective attacks on Korriban and Tython, and in the reclamation battles. And Cipher Nine was working with them… did you know they were your children, Agent?

Captain Korin had been a part of that entire gong show as well. As far as Kovach was concerned, the snarky, flirtatious smuggler was a person of interest. He ran a search through the SIS databases again, and raised an eyebrow. None of Theron’s research was there… but Korin’s name came up frequently in other records. He had earned both the respect and the hatred of several crime groups, it seemed, including the infamous Rogun the Butcher. On a whim, Kovach accessed the compiled data from Rogun’s slicers and felt his jaw drop. Rogun had managed to access the most information on Korin while hunting the spacer down… including a homeworld of Lavisar, a mention of a deceased mother and missing brother, and two listed surnames. The spacer frequently used Korin Drallig to get around, but there was a mention within the archives of Korin Taerich.

You can’t be… it’s too much of a coincidence. Kovach looked back into Lavisarian records, accessing files from before the small planet had been overtaken by the Empire. No official marriage certificates, but there was a census record of one Reanden Taerich and Airna Taerich, and three birth certificates — one for a daughter who was reported deceased months later in a speeder accident, and two for sons, reported missing after their mother’s death at the hands of raiders. Xaja Taerich, Korin Taerich, Sorand Taerich. This entire family is ridiculous.

Kovach immediately compiled the necessary data and made two copies of the files. One was sent to Darth Vowrawn, as per the Sith Lord’s directions — the other was encrypted and sent to Saresh. She would want to know this information.

The Eternal Fleet ship lurked just outside of Dantooine’s immediate orbit. Yes, this was where Satele Shan’s ship had gone — they had arrived just in time to see the Defender fly into the atmosphere. “Why would the former Grand Master of the Jedi Order go to a planet that her Order abandoned earlier in the war?” The Knight-Captain paced through the bridge, frowning in thought.

“After leaving the same planet where Cipher Nine is reputed to have taken the assassin and the terrorist.” The blue holo figure of one of the Overwatch overseers crossed his arms. “Interesting that a Jedi Master and an Imperial spy should be in league.”

“What updates are there from the other ship?”

“The Phantom was tracked to Nar Shaddaa, but I suspect your other ship lost it and became confused with another vessel. The ship that our people on the surface apprehended was the Duchess, a private civilian ship owned by a gambler, and not the Shadow. The ship was still searched, but it had come in from Corellia, and there were no signs of any passengers — merely the captain, her first mate, and a droid they seem to have modelled after our own, SCORPIO.” The overseer started pacing over the holotransmitter. “And when our agents investigated the Shrine of Healing on Voss, they found evidence that Shan and Taerich had been there, but had departed swiftly.”

“Could Cipher Nine have changed his ship’s identity?” The Knight-Captain frowned as she mulled over the options.

“Unlikely. Such a task would be nearly impossible, especially that quickly. And he was nowhere to be seen on the ship, even after performing a bioscan.” The overseer stopped pacing for a moment. “We will continue to look for the Shadow and Cipher Nine, but that is not your concern. If Master Shan is returning to a planet that the Jedi have historically had a claim to, perhaps the Order did not abandon their enclaves as initially reported.”

“You think the Order still has a presence on Dantooine?”

“I would place money on it. And if Master Shan is fleeing there, perhaps she is attempting to hide the assassin there, at least. Taerich was also a member of the Order and would try to hide among her own people.”

The Knight-Captain nodded, thoughts of glory for being the one to capture one of the terrible Outlanders flitting through her mind. “What are your orders?”

“Search the planet until you find whatever hole the Jedi are hiding in, look for Taerich and Shan, and then burn it to the ground. Take Master Shan alive — we will have answers from her.”

[thorne93]

Unexpected Guest (Part 1)

Prompt: Imagine working a party and seeing a mysteriously handsome man who captures your entire attention. There’s one catch: you’re engaged to a different man.

Warnings: angst, fighting, negative relationships, flirting, language, smoking (cigs? Is that even a warning? idk)...

Word Count: 3078

Notes: Inspired by Gorgeous - Taylor Swift...Beta’d by my amazing @like-a-bag-of-potatoes. I’m so blessed to call you a friend, love. OFC/OC Jeremy

Forever Tags: @capsmuscles @cocosierra94 @essie1876 @magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @iamwarrenspeace @marvel-imagines-yes-please@superwholocked527 @myparadise1982sand @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno @rda1989 @marvelloushamilton @munlis @thefridgeismybestie @bubblyanarocks3 @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @hardcollectionworldtrash @igiveupicantthinkofausername @kaliforniacoastalteens @feelmyroarrrr​ @kaeling​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Putting the finishing touches on your hair and looking over your daring bright red dress in the mirror, you smiled in approval at the outfit. You were donning a red, form fitting cocktail dress that had a see through sash sweep train, the sash train nearly reaching the floor, landing just above your bright red heels to match. Unfortunately, you didn’t have a good necklace to match but you did have earrings so you popped those in, did another once over, and went out to the living room of your shared home with your fiance.

“So what do you think?” you asked, stepping in front of the tv and twirling, playing with the sash a bit.

Jeremy, your fiance, grunted and tried to peer around you, waving you to move from his sight. “What the hell, Y/N? I’m trying to watch this.”

“So pause it,” you tried. “How do I look?” you asked, your ego already deflated and at this point not really giving a shit what he thought.

He frowned angrily and looked at you as if you just interrupted the biggest business deal of the year. He whipped his face to your body for half a second. “You look fine.” His eyes shot back to the screen before asking, “Where you going?”

“I told you this every day this week, I’m going to a party for Nicholas Hamilton. We’re catering...for the It party?” you said as a reminder, your voice going up to try and trigger some remembrance.

He barely shrugged.

You sighed. “Good night. I’m not sure how long the party will run, but we’re supposed to be catering and serving alcohol all night so don’t wait up,” you informed as you grabbed your clutch. “If you could, do the dishes, please.”

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun at your shower,” he called as you went out the door, his remark making you roll your eyes. His behavior wasn’t atypical. This was normal for him to not know what you were doing, or where, or when. You would tell him and he’d forget or just flat not listen. For the past three years since you’ve been engaged, you’ve chalked it up to him not wanting to be involved with the girly part of your life or the infamous myth that “men never listen”.

You hopped in your car and drove through LA to the home of Nicholas, to meet your team. You had a team of around eleven people for this party. It was a simple, typical Los Angeles house party. He expected one hundred guests, so you would accommodate that with two bartenders, five servants--three circulating the party, two on standby at the buffet to serve--and you had five cooks back at the restaurant to prepare it all. You didn’t need to be at this party, per se, but being a control freak, it certainly helped your nerves to know that your staff was doing their best and that the food looked and tasted perfectly.

On this particular party, you didn’t prepare any of the food, but they were all your recipes and creations, but you trusted your chefs fully to prepare this food. Typically, you would help, but in this case you just wanted to oversee the event.

You finally arrived at the home, just in time to see the team unloading the trays of food, utensils, flatware, and glassware.

“Oh good, you’re on time,” you breathed as you rushed up to your staff.

“Of course we’re on time,” Jeff responded with a scoff, one of the young servers you’d hired. He was a definite asset to your team.

“Well I was just--” you started before a chorus of workers cut you off.

“Worried.”

“Yeah, we know,” your best friend and top employee, Ida, stated as she grabbed a tray, her raven hair pulled up in a sleek bun. “You don’t have to fret. We know how to do this,” she assured.

“I know but I just can’t help it,” you reminded, slightly wringing your hands. “Have you all been inside yet?”

“Nope, just got here,” Jeff informed.

“Ah, great.” At that, you ran up the sidewalk to the front door and rang the bell. Nicholas answered, greeting you with a smile and a hug.

“You’re here! Awesome!” he said opening the door.

“Absolutely! Where would you like us to set up?” you questioned.

“I’ll show you. Come on,” he said, gesturing inside the moderately sized home. You led the way for your staff of seven through the house to a fairly large kitchen with an island and plenty of counter space. “So use whatever space you need. If you need anything, let me know. The party will start in about an hour so…”

“Thank you,” you said sweetly. “And thank you again for picking us to cater the event.”

He shrugged. “Hey, your food is freakin’ awesome. That stuff was like crack on set. I knew I had to have you again.”

“Well thank you again. We’ll get everything set up and warming,” you informed as the staff filed past you with trays, dishes, and a myriad of other goods. “Okay, Ryan, put that tray over there. Jennifer, could you start the warming trays--”

“Y/N, stop,” Ida commanded softly. “We know what we’re doing. How about we set up and you can correct us if you don’t like it?”

It took you a second to concede, a little unwilling to relinquish power but you nodded. Everyone seemed to relax by a fraction and they set to work. You watched them, quietly, observing how they set it up, how fast it took, if they did it properly and in a sanitary manner. So far they were doing everything exactly as you would want done. The hors d'oeuvres were arranged neatly and in an appealing manner. The main dishes were on their warming trays. The plates, glasses, and utensils were arranged perfectly. The bartenders got set up with their glasses, tumblers, and a small bar that you’d purchased. It was a collapsable sort of bar, but it was sturdy and well made. This way, it gave the real feeling of being at a bar, and the bartender could keep an eye on his glasses, the alcohol, and tips. All the while, the crew was back and forth from the van, bringing in more of everything.

About thirty minutes later, a DJ showed up. He was actually one of the hotter DJs in LA right now. You only knew this because you’d seen him at a few of the events your company catered, and being one of the top  three caterers in the city was a good indicator you were at all the right events.

Though being at all of these glamorous parties, it didn’t have the effect on you it might have other people. You hardly ever watched TV or movies. You never went to the theater, you didn’t binge Netflix, you didn’t rent redbox, you didn’t have Hulu. Every once in a blue moon, you’d watch a movie, if you’d seen the trailer for a movie that was spectacular, but typically you didn’t watch anything. Instead, you read or you were working on recipes. You didn't have a lot of time for much of anything else, and if you did, you didn’t use that time for it.

In a way, it was a blessing. Because if you knew who these people were, what they played in, it might make you act differently. Like being star struck, and you didn’t want to be that way. You knew a lot of actors, actresses, directors, or producers names. You knew most of the “big” ones, the ones people could only ignore if they lived under a rock, such as George Clooney, Charlize Theron, Angelina Jolie...But even then, you held your composure. If you worked directly with a big name in Hollywood, they quickly turned into any other customer: what food do they want, where and when do they want it. The whole mystique of the title of being an actor or director fell away when you were working on how many shrimp cocktails they wanted.

So when Nicholas reached out for this party, you were pleasantly surprised. You’d catered for the set of It for about three weeks towards the end of filming, but that was nearly a year ago now. You’d brought them lunch every day, and got to see a glimpse of the magic happening for that movie. Now, Nicholas was throwing a party one week before the premiere.

Part of you wanted to see it because you’d read the book long ago, part of you didn’t care if you never saw it. In fact, you weren’t sure who played the clown. You knew most of the kids because they would storm the food table as soon as the director let them loose for lunch and you often joked around with them, but the clown would stand up, stare at you for a moment, which usually creeped you the fuck out, then he would disappear. You always assumed he just went to get out of makeup or went to take a rest because he never approached the table to get food, at least while you were there.

The party had just started, with people filling in quickly, heading straight for the food. You made sure to get the hell out of the way as people grabbed plates and glasses and filled up on food and drink then set out to mingle in the house or out in the medium back yard with pool and patio. It made you fill with pride and happiness to see people take bites of your food and light up.

After about an hour and a half into the party, and you mingling with some of the younger actors you’d met on set, along with other people you’d never met, a man showed up at the party. He was tall and lanky, but he took your breath away. He was absolutely gorgeous with dark hair and eyes that made it impossible for you to move. He entered the house, his eyes scanning the party before they landed on yours, and when they did, a small smile touched his face. He nodded to you before setting off through the throng of people.

Your jaw was hanging open. You weren’t sure what had just happened. That man had completely captivated you, but you were sure you’d never seen him before. No, eyes and a face like that you would’ve remembered. Your eyes were glued to his back as he made his way out to the back yard.

Finally, you regained composure and went back into the kitchen where Ida was refilling one of the platters. You stood against the counter, speechless, as Ida saw you out of the corner of her eye.

“You look like you saw a ghost. What’s up?” she questioned before turning her attention back to her task.

“This guy...He...I don’t know. He just walked in and he looked right at me and…Ida, he was gorgeous,” you said in a breathy voice.

She chuckled lightly. “That good, huh? You need to pick your drooling chin off the floor though. You have a fiance,” she reminded.

Just then, you remembered, you did. How awful of a person were you that a pretty face made you entirely forget about the man waiting at home for you? Even if Jeremy was sometimes a passive dick, he didn’t deserve what you’d just done. You shook your head, the self loathing starting to wash over you.

As soon as Ida stepped away, you went back to mingling, subtly asking people if they enjoyed the food and nearly illuminating from head to toe when they raved about it. Yet all night, as the music sounded through the air, the lights dimmed outside and in, the mysterious man would appear then disappear, each time, the two of you would steal glances, no matter if he was talking to someone or you were, your eyes always found each other. When your gazes did meet, you were frozen for those few seconds, completely transfixed, as if he had a spell on you. You’d stare at each other a moment, then go back to mingling. Sometimes he broke the gaze, sometimes you did, but it happened an insurmountable amount of times.

The jitters of the party and praying everything went well, along with the captivating guy, you needed a break. You stepped outside on the patio and fished around your clutch for the small pack of cigs you kept. Typically you were a social smoker but your anxiety had peaked due to the party, the tiff with Jeremy, and this guy so you needed some nicotine related relaxation. The quiet of the outside and the zero guests made it appealing.

Why was this guy so damned gorgeous? And why did it bother you? You worked in LA, hot men paraded in and out of your store and at parties and events you attended all the time. What the hell did this fucker have that you’d never encountered before? You lit the cigarette and took a drag.

“Having a good night?” a smooth voice suddenly sounded beside you. You didn’t recognize it so it wasn’t Nicholas or anyone on your staff or anyone you’d talked to tonight. You turned slightly to your left to see the man in question. Instantly your mouth dried and your heart raced.

“Uh, yeah. I am,” you responded, stammering a bit, then frowning at yourself for acting like a total spaz. He got closer to you, pulling a pack out for himself and lighting up, but you couldn’t look at him, he was too intimidating. “And you?” you questioned. “You having a nice evening?” you inquired before flicking your ash.

“Not really, but then I saw you,” he stated.

You half smiled, the other half wanted to roll your eyes at his statement. So you turned to look at him to tell him off for using such a lame ass line, but when your eyes landed on him, you couldn’t breathe. He had the cigarette poised in his mouth, his fingers cradling it, taking a drag. This was the first time you’d been this close to him all night, face to face. The sight of him and that cigarette, made your insides do things it hadn’t done in a long time for anyone, including Jeremy. Not to mention the dark sweater and jean combo he was wearing that complimented his fair skin nicely.

“Uh...Um..wow, what a poor excuse for a pickup line,” you chastised when you gathered your senses.

“Who said it was a line?” he asked before blowing the smoke out.

Just then, a blush hit you hard. It was a big assumption on your part that he was hitting on you.

“Oh...I…” you stuttered, feeling like a dumbass.

He grinned at you. “It was, a bit,” he confessed, saving you from your meltdown. “But seriously. You look amazing tonight.”

“You say that as if we’ve met,” you noted curiously.

“I saw you on set,” he informed.

“Oh,” you said, realizing why he said what he said.

“Yeah,” he continued.

The blush heated your cheeks again. “Well...thank you.” A moment of quiet passed between you two. “So you worked on the set for It? Were you on the crew?” You only asked because, if he was an actor, you would’ve met him, and you hadn’t.

He gave you a strange look, almost puzzled, before he gave a slight nod and said, “Yeah, something like that.” A sideways smile crept on his face and you found yourself smiling like an idiot back at him. “So you’re with the caterers?”

“It’s my business,” you informed nonchalantly, gesturing inside back at the party. “I’m just here to oversee,” you informed.

He nodded toward you. “Ah. Well the food is exceptional. Your recipes?”

“Every last one,” you answered. “Can’t say that I’ve seen you eat them though,” you noted.

“I’m good like that. I get the job done and no one’s the wiser,” he said with a wink before taking another drag.

“Ah, I see.”

Just as you were about to ask about his name, and introduce yourself, Sophia, one of the young actresses ran out onto the patio and grabbed his sleeve and began tugging.

“Come on! We’re about to watch the trailer together! Come on!” she encouraged excitedly.

He laughed lightly at her enthusiasm. “Alright, alright, let me put this out,” he said before taking another hit then throwing it on the patio and snuffing out any flame with his shoe. He gave you a polite apology smile, due to the over excited cast member and you nodded and shrugged, waving it off. “Nice to see you,” he said as he was drug inside the house.

You gave a small wave before finishing your cigarette and joining the others back in the living room. You found your way to the back, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, your eyes on the huge tv, watching the trailer for the first time.

The footage rolled and you couldn’t help but still be creeped out by the clown. On set he was much more menacing looking than on screen. But the trailer itself seemed to scare you, enough that you felt jumpy the rest of the evening. As soon as the footage ended, the guests cheered and roared, grabbing each other for hugs or high fives. You smiled at the lot of them and the work they’d done.

It was around midnight and the food was low, but no one was really eating any more, mainly drinking. The team started to pack up the food and trays, while your two bartenders stayed hard at work.

“I’m gonna go home,” you informed Ida, to which she nodded.

The mystery man continued to fade in and out of your view all evening but you didn’t speak to him any further. You left when you didn’t see him, escaping into your car and driving home, to meet a sleeping Jeremy who hadn’t made dinner and left the dishes in the sink, unwashed. You got angry for a moment, but then took a deep breath, trying to remember that maybe he was tired and needed a break. Then you headed for bed, knowing you’d have to get up early to deal with the dishes.

[greyias]

Having their hair washed by the other for the disaster spy and smol sad Jedi D: because 5.4 didn't happen

Did someone ask for unrepentant schmoop and fluff? Because that’s what you got! This is technically a follow-up to a previous story, but probably mostly stands on its own.

“It’s everywhere.”

Theron laughed. He couldn’t help himself, as he had never heard the great and mighty Hero of Tython sound so petulant and annoyed. She shot him a glare as she awkwardly tried to shake out the hood on her armor. A few grains of sand flew out before she realized that the action wasn’t very effective, and was just transferring the mess to the floor.

“Don’t laugh,” her tone was bordering on a whine, “I’m pretty sure it got into my under-armor.”

Theron just quirked a brow as he shucked off his boots, trying to ignore the gritty sensation of sand between his toes. “Sand tends to do that.”

“Yes, well,” she huffed as she gave up her attempts with her hood and opted to just unclasp and shed her outer-armor, “it’s been chafing ever since we left Tatooine.”

He made a small noise of agreement as he kicked off his socks, watching them land somewhere near the vicinity of his boots and gloves. For a moment he considered bending over to pick them up and be the gracious houseguest that Ngani Zho had raised him to be, but abandoned that notion as one of his many bruises twinged. He’d get them later. His jacket had been carefully hung up on a chair, which was a good first step. Theron would address the rest of his mess later, but first he needed a shower to wash off all this damn sand.

Her heavy caped armor landed on the floor with a loud thunk and she began to work on freeing herself from the heavy boots and gauntlets. “This is going to take forever to get out.”

“Haven’t you been to Tatooine before?” he asked tiredly.

“Yes,” she said peevishly.

“You’re acting like this is the first time you’ve had to deal with this.”

She shot him a dark look. “Well, usually someone doesn’t dump fistfuls of sand on top of my head!”

“Says the woman who dropped an entire handful of sand down the back of my shirt.”

“That’s… you—you started it!”

He shoved himself to his feet and headed towards the refresher, suppressing a grimace as the motion pulled at the large welt forming between his shoulder blades where some of the debris of the destroyed canons had hit him. “Well, petty retaliation is the Jedi way, right?”

Her mouth flopped open as she made an inarticulate noise of indignation, and he couldn’t suppress the smirk at seeing her perfect composure slip. His amusement didn’t seem to help her mood any. “It’s not funny!”

“No, of course not,” Theron said, pausing at the door to the refresher, “sand is the greatest challenge we face in our time.”

“You are not taking this seriously.”

“Are you sure? That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

“It’s not funny.” Her lower lip protruded and she crossed her arms. “You got sand in my hair.”

“Aw, well that wasn’t very nice of me, was it?” His voice dropped a few octaves. “I could always help get it out if you want.”

Her face scrunched up in honest confusion. “What?”

He raised an eyebrow, but pursed his lips together to keep his amusement from bubbling up again. “I’m taking a shower.”

She blinked. “I don’t follow.”

“You could.” He extended a hand out to her. “If you want.”

She frowned, still clearly not understanding his invitation. “Why would I…?”

He just waited, hand outstretched, before her eyes widened slightly and color rushed to her cheeks. Her gaze darted away as she bit her lip, and he just watched quietly. After a few more moments she glanced back up at him and his outstretched hand before hesitantly shuffling forward and accepting it. 

Her fingers curled around his, and the shy, uncertain smile she flashed him caused a small ball of warmth to flare in his gut. His smile in return was probably not nearly as suave as he was hoping for, but tried to ignore that and quietly led the way into the refresher and started the shower.

As the water began to warm up, he carefully peeled off his shirt, the dried sweat and sand making it stick a little. He hadn’t exactly forgotten about the bruises he’d acquired during the mad tumble away from the orbital strike that had nearly obliterated them both, but he was suddenly reminded of how they might look as he heard a quiet gasp behind him.

“Theron, your back!”

“It’s fine.”

“That does not look fine!”

“I’ve had worse,” he assured her.

“Why didn’t you go to the medbay?”

“Because it’s not that bad.” She gave him a hard look. “And I really want a shower. Like you said, the sand got everywhere.”

“Theron Shan,” she said, exasperation ringing in her voice, “how are you not dead yet?”

“Dumb luck.” He grinned, and couldn’t help pressing a quick kiss into her frown. “And good company.”

“You are impossible.” The deep crease remained, but her lips quirked up into the beginnings of a smile despite herself. “Let me grab a kolto pack at least.”

“Sure thing,” the grin remained as he finished shedding his clothes and opened the door to the now steamy shower, “right after I wash this sand off.”

“Theron—”

He quickly ducked in despite her protests, relishing in the feeling of the spray of hot water over his abused muscles. Being able to take a moment and just breathe after their close encounter earlier today was a luxury in itself. The only thing that would make this better was the company of a certain person who was staring at him a little crossly behind the frosted glass of the shower door.

Theron felt a slight thrill as he watched the muted expression change beyond the door from what was likely frustration to resigned exasperation and saw the remainder of the under-armor stripped off. He honestly tried to suppress the smirk that naturally took up residence on his face as the door opened, but it was difficult.

“Hey there.” He smiled as she looked at him with an air of uncertainty.

“You know that it’s a little crowded in here?”

“Kind of the point.”

That endearing frown returned. “What point?”

He managed to keep the wolfish grin in check (just barely), and instead just ran his hands lightly down her exposed arms, feeling goosebumps rise in their wake. “Have I ever told you how adorable you are?”

“What does that have to do with—?”

He cut her off by capturing the rest of that question in a kiss, the warm water raining down on them. It started soft, just a quick capturing of her lips, but he quickly lost himself in the taste of her as he so often did. Only when the tension drained out of her, and the thrill of her close proximity managed to die down to a manageable roar, did he break away. She swallowed, staring at him with those wide blue eyes that were entirely too easy to get lost in.

“Where were we?” he murmured quietly.

“I… forget.”

“No worries. I remember.” He took that as an invitation to pull her a little closer as the needle jets of the shower continued to rain down on them. Her hair was still pulled up, so he carefully undid the old and familiar strip of leatheris containing her ponytail and loosely tied it around her wrist as her blonde locks fell around her shoulders. His fingers tangled in the bangs that fell in her face, gently brushing them away as color returned to her cheeks.

“What are you doing?”

“Promises, remember?”

With his free hand he grabbed the bottle of shampoo and made a quick lather before he started working it into the fine blond hair. Even soaked, the silky strands slipped through his fingers easily and he gently ran his blunt nails over her scalp and carefully catalogued every reaction. At first her eyes seemed to widen ever so slightly, as if it were a new sensation, before they fluttered shut and she leaned into him slightly. The reaction took him a bit off guard, and he had to force himself to swallow the warm feeling that bubbled up before he finished working the shampoo through every last strand.

By the time he finished she was practically hanging on him, arms looped around his neck as her chest pressed into his (not that he was complaining). It took a few moments before she shook out of her stupor and muzzily blinked up at him. If this was all it took to generate that sort of reaction, he was going to need to invent a few more reasons for her to step into the refresher with him.

“Better?” he asked, hoping that the smug undertone didn’t completely translate.

“Huh?”

“The sand,” he clarified. “All gone now?”

She blinked for a second, before remembering the pretense he had lured her in here under, and then ran one hand through her hair. “Oh, yes.”

“Good,” he couldn’t completely hide the lascivious grin as one of his hands drifted lower down her backside, “need help with any other area?”

“Theron,” the scandalized tone was only half-forced, “I’m perfectly capable of bathing myself.”

“Just trying to help.” His feigned innocence was fooling no one.

“You’ve already helped enough,” she said quietly, fingers ghosting over the rapidly purpling bruises on his back and chest. “I still can’t believe you did that.”

The light feeling was chased away as the memories of the blast of the orbital missiles came flooding back, and how close he had come to not having this woman with him right now. The lump that settled in his throat was a little hard to swallow past, and his voice came out a bit rougher than he liked. “Just doing what was necessary.”

“You took the brunt of that blast.” She frowned. “And shielded me from the debris.”

“I…” He dropped her gaze even as he pulled her closer. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Her face softened into a fond expression, tilting his chin back up to where he couldn’t help but look at her. “That goes both ways. You know that, right?”

He couldn’t quite speak past the tight feeling building in chest as she looked at him with that earnest expression and wide blue eyes, and only managed a small nod. Her eyes crinkled up as she flashed him with a bright smile that lit the small ball of warmth in his gut anew. She didn’t say anything further, but grabbed a soapy rag and gently washed away the worst of the sand caked all over him. Her feather light touches across the deep bruises marring his back were almost reverent, and made that damnable lump in his throat start to rise back up.

Theron didn’t know how she managed it, but she had completely derailed his more lewd plans with her gentle ministrations. He didn’t even quite realize that until she’d had him toweled off and laying down on the bed as she was carefully applying kolto to the bruises on his back.

“You don’t play fair,” he murmured quietly. “You gave me some kind of Jedi whammy, didn’t you?”

“Don’t be silly,” she said fondly. “That’d be an inappropriate use of the Force.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” he muttered, trying to fight off a wave of drowsiness as the analgesic affect of the kolto began to kick in.

“Unreasonable paranoia?”

“Sneaky Jedi,” he groused. “You know that this isn’t what I had in mind?”

“I’m sure whatever it was can wait until morning.”

There was no way she was that naive or innocent, but he was far too relaxed and tired to call her on it. Besides, she was right, while it seemed that he couldn’t scratch that particular itch enough, he’d have plenty of opportunities. For now he was content to curl up behind her as the warmth of her pressing in close carried him off into a dreamless sleep.