#thanks to andveryginger for giving me a title

[keldae]

Questionable Timing

Ahhh, peace and quiet. Xaja let herself onto the roof of the safehouse and let the scents and sounds of Raider's Cove wash over her. She supposed it wasn’t generally considered wise for a safehouse to have a rooftop access, but right this moment, she didn’t care. Rishi was still warm and humid and smelled like the sea and freighter fuel and the collective smell of a thousand pirates and smugglers, but it was still better than the stifling environment inside the safehouse.

Some part of her was starting to regret Force-throwing Jakarro into a waterfall after she and Sorand had complained about his pungent odour one too many times. The scent of a wet Wookiee was not for the faint of heart, or for those with Force-enhanced senses.

The Jedi spread out her robe on the roof and laid down, feeling Rishi’s sunlight on her pale skin and lazily stretching not unlike a felinx cat. It was rare, especially with this Revanite crisis ongoing, for her to simply have a moment away from her responsibilities as ‘Master Taerich’ and just let herself be, without the trappings of the Order. Loose capris, a tank top, and bare feet; a far cry from the Jedi’s usual garb (never minding the lightsaber within easy grabbing distance, should it be needed). This was comfortable and private and --

The rooftop access door opened, and Xaja almost groaned when she heard the footsteps. The groan was stopped when she heard the voice. “Whoa, sorry -- didn’t know you were up here. I’ll just go --��

“Nah, it’s all right, Theron.” Xaja cracked an eye open to peek at the spy and gestured with her hand for him to approach her as she sat back up. “Jakarro still complaining about everything and everyone?”

“If it’s not him and Dee-Four, it’s Korin. Was throwing him in the waterfall with Jakarro really necessary?”

“Hey, take that up with Sorand. I was only responsible for Jakarro getting a shower.” Xaja grinned. “Maybe Korin shouldn’t have been making jokes about Jedi and Sith agreeing being the sign of the galaxy’s imminent demise.”

“If I wasn’t afraid of getting tossed in the ocean, I’d agree with him.” Theron smirked as he sat down beside Xaja and shrugged off his jacket. “Oh, that breeze feels nice.”

“Mmhmm. These cultists do seem to be leading us to all the fun beach-filled worlds so far.” Xaja laid back on her spread-out robe and very nearly purred in the sunlight. “Sunshine, oceans, jungles…”

“The noises of a thousand rowdy alcohol-filled smugglers and the wildlife in said jungles trying to eat them all, and us…”

“Hush, you. Let me go back to focusing on the good parts of this entire fiasco.”

Theron laughed and laid down beside her, using his jacket as a pillow. Xaja realized, with a start, that he’d never full-out laughed like that before; the most she’d heard from him before was a chuckle, or an amused-sounding huff of air. He has a really nice-sounding laugh, was the traitorous thought that raced through her mind before her Jedi training could squash it. I wouldn’t mind hearing it more. “Good parts of this? We have friends now in the upper ranks of the Empire, you’ve found out that you have a family, Darth Imperius is the nicest Dark Council member I’ve ever met and I’m reasonably sure he doesn’t have any intentions of killing me…”

“Little brother or not, I’d kick his ass if he tried. I haven’t gotten to know the SIS’s best agent just to let my Sith brother out on a murder spree.” Xaja grinned. “See, it’s not all bad.”

“I feel oddly special.” Theron smirked. “So, Master Jedi, are you out here escaping the incredible smell of wet Wookiee or the noise of said complaining Wookiee?”

“Would you believe me if I said I’m just solar-powered and need sunlight to be able to function?”

“Don’t redheads burn in the sun?”

“You can’t smell the sunblock?”

“Not really, not over the smell of those thousands of unwashed pirates and their ship fuel.”

Xaja laughed. “It’s still better than what’s downstairs right now.”

“Good point. There’s remarkably less whining out here too. Jakaroo would have gotten on with this one contact I had on an op years ago…”

The Jedi curiously tilted her head at Theron at that. “Oh, I’ve got to hear this story. Unless it’s classified?...”

“Nah.” Theron looked over and grinned. “So I was on Brentaal IV…”

Somehow the conversation shifted from Theron’s various shenanigans as an SIS operative (and the odd tale of Xaja’s adventures as a younger Jedi) to personal backstories. “... And that’s the story of how me losing a dare involving two swoop bikes and a monkey lizard wound up leading to my first kiss,” the spy finished, his ears reddening -- and Xaja was pretty sure it wasn’t due to the sunlight. Some part of her secretly thought it was cute. “And the story of how I wound up getting sucker punched by her boyfriend that I didn’t know she had.”

“I can’t decide if I’m sympathetic or just greatly amused.” Xaja grinned and watched Theron’s ears go a darker shade of red. “Was she good, at least?”

“... Ish?” Theron smirked. “She wasn’t terrible.”

“As far as ‘first kiss’ stories go, that’s a pretty good one.” Xaja laughed and rolled onto her stomach, letting her back get some sunlight.

“What, do you have one to compare?” Theron’s grin widened when he saw the Jedi's cheeks go pink and leaned over to nudge her arm. “The venerable Master Taerich has a first kiss story? I need to hear this!”

Xaja groaned and buried her face in her arms as Theron laughed. “Okay, so for context, at the time of this I was something of a naive twelve-year-old…”

“This has got to be good.” Theron rolled onto his side to give Xaja his full focus, his grin still wide and eager. “I’m trying to imagine the Order’s primary kicker-of-asses as a little twelve-year-old...”

“Shush, you! I was with Master Allende at the time. We did a lot of commuting between Tython and Dantooine with her work for the Council. On one of our visits to Tython, we met up with another Master-Padawan team. That Padawan in question was called Kich -- he was… I want to say three years older than me? Far more well-traveled and wise in the ways of the galaxy, and when he told me I was pretty, well…” She could feel herself blushing.

“Awwww, you had a crush on another Jedi?” Theron laughed. “That’s adorable.”

“I was twelve! And he was cute! And Master Allende kinda kept me sheltered!” Xaja tried to hide her face in her hands again until Theron leaned over and tugged her hands back down, in a surprisingly gentle touch that made her pulse race. Trying to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat, she went on with her story. “We were out on one of the training paths, he was supposed to be helping me out with preparing for one of my trials as a senior Padawan. Long story short, uhh… He didn’t really do what he was told, and after telling me that he thought I was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, he, uh… Well, that’s how my first kiss happened.”

“That sounds like there’s more to the story than just that.” Theron grinned and nudged her arm. It almost made Xaja miss the sudden flare she felt dance across his Force-signature, something that felt… Protective? Dark? Jealous? That’s impossible. “C’mon, out with it.”

Xaja groaned, feeling her cheeks head up more. “So, this was years ago. The Flesh Raiders weren’t as big of a threat as they are now, but they were still a problem then. Three of them jumped us right around then, and Kich, being the paragon of everything the Jedi stood for, bravely ran away to get help. When the Masters got to where I was, I was up a tree with a damned stick for a weapon with the Flesh Raiders prowling around the base of the tree, and mad as hell for understandable reasons.”

Theron burst into laughter again. “So you got rescued by the Masters and presumably did not start dating that other Padawan on the sly?”

“Oh, hell no.” Xaja grinned and ruefully shook her head. “I was running punishment drills in the training rings for the next week -- not for the kiss, which I didn’t really tell anyone about, but more for punching Kich square in the nose when I saw him back at the Temple. Incidentally, that was also my first time meeting Master Orgus.”

“What, was that punch the reason he finally decided to finish your training?”

“Nah. He decided I was his next Padawan after my best friend and I rigged up paint bombs in the Council chambers a couple of years later. Master Kiwiiks told me a couple of years ago that he actually called dibs while Jakar and I were running laps around the Temple grounds. Apparently being gutsy enough to grin while your mother was reading us the riot act impressed him, not that he would have admitted it to Master Satele.”

Theron finally got his laughter under control and wiped a tear away from his eye. “Your Jedi training experience sounded way more fun than mine did. Master Zho never taught me about the long-lost art of Jedi pranking or romance.”

“Well, clearly your education was incomplete.”

“Apparently.” Theron shifted beside her; Xaja felt his arm brushing against hers. Had he always been that close to her? “So… any other embarrassing first kiss or pranking stories?”

“None quite that hilarious,” Xaja confessed as she tilted toward him. She was a Jedi, dammit, she should not be feeling her heart race when she realized just how close he was to her, close enough to see the fleck of amber in his hazel eyes, close enough to feel his breath. “The other stories tended to involve alcohol-induced lapses of judgement. You?”

Theron softly snorted. “Nah. None worth remembering.” He grew quiet for a moment; Xaja watched his gaze flicker from her mouth back up to her eyes. “Want to make a better story?” he murmured, his voice suddenly low and husky and sending a delightful shiver up Xaja’s spine that she desperately tried to deny.

You’re a Jedi Master, dammit. This is not what you do. You know the Code, and you know what happened the last time you broke it for a man! But Theron felt nothing like Darren Kota had, his Force-presence warmer and brighter and less scarred with hatred. Xaja felt a warm flood pool in her lower abdomen as Theron shifted closer to her, his hand settling over hers, warm and solid and surprisingly gentle in his touch. He hesitated in moving his face closer to hers, as though expecting her to deny him, or giving her a chance to get out. And she knew it was what she was supposed to do.

Her body rebelled against her mind and wavering discipline. She felt her nose brush against his as she moved in, his breath tickling her fair skin. She could feel his pulse race as he angled his face, and closed her eyes as she just felt the first brush of his lips against hers --

“Master Taerich! Agent Shan!” Dee-Four’s yell sent a sudden jolt through Xaja that had absolutely nothing to do with Theron and the kiss trying to happen. Her eyes flew open and a gasp escaped her lips as Theron quickly jerked his head away from hers, his ears and cheeks going red despite his best efforts. A second later, Jakarro poked his head out of the roof hatch, Dee-Four on his bandolier as per usual. “There you two are! We’ve been looking for you!”

“What are you discussing up here?” Jakarro asked, his dark eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Theron quickly said; he sounded remarkably composed, even if she could still hear a slight shake to his voice. “It’s classified.”

“Whatever it is, it can’t be more important than what Agent Taerich just found. He’s got a location on the Mandalorians led by the one called Torch!” Dee-Four almost sounded smug, or was that just Xaja hearing things? “He’s waiting on you two before he briefs everyone.”

Her father had the worst kriffing timing, and the damn droid-and-Wookiee duo were even worse. “We’ll be down in a second,” Xaja mumbled as she sat up and gathered her robe up. “Tell my father we’ll be right there.”

“Sure, once you finish your classified discussion.” If a droid could leer, Dee-Four would be doing so. He and Jakarro vanished back down through the access hatch before Xaja could tell them off; she groaned and looked over at Theron.

He was still blushing and running his hands over his face, trying to regain his composure. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled when he looked back at Xaja. “If I’d known they were…”

“It’s not your fault.” Xaja shook her head and tried to force her breath back to something approaching steady and composed. “It… uhh…” Kriff, what was there to say right now?”

“... Yeah.” Theron sat up and caught Xaja’s hand in his before she could escape back into the safehouse. “If you want, we, uh… we can continue this discussion sometime later.”

I’m a Jedi, and you’re everything I’m not supposed to be looking at or getting attached to. I can’t, you know that I can’t… “I’d like that.” She smiled despite her racing pulse and trembling fingers, and felt Theron squeeze her hand in a gesture that was all at once familiar and sweet and gentle. The moment was passed, broken by that damned droid, but Xaja still wanted to linger and stay with Theron a little longer despite her vows to the Order, stay longer and --

“Oi!” That was Korin's voice yelling up through the access hatch. “Are you two coming or what?”

For kriff’s sake… “Keep your hair on, we’re coming!” Xaja shouted back at her brother, and looked back at Theron for only a second before slipping her hand free of his and re-entering the safehouse. She took a quick second to make sure nobody was watching her before she gently touched her lips, still feeling a fire where Theron’s had brushed hers in something that was almost a kiss. You’re a Jedi, she stubbornly told herself. It can’t happen, no matter how badly you want it…

She didn’t see Theron linger on the rooftop for a long minute and silently indulge in a long list of frustrated expletives as he tried to get his own heart to settle down before he rejoined the rest of the conspirators inside.

[greyias]

FIC: Dance with the Devil (5/7)

Title: Dance with the Devil Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Genre: Angst, H/C, Action Synopsis: He was surrounded by the abyss, pure nothingness beckoning with its sweet cold embrace. Beta: Thank you to @andveryginger​​ for taking a look at this chapter and giving me a few suggestions! Author’s Notes: This chapter is a bit... different, as we take a slightly surreal look into Theron’s psyche (and oops, somehow we got an extra part with all my scribblings.) Warnings: See Part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Crossposted to AO3

He drifted in shadow for what seemed like an eternity. When he finally opened his eyes, he’d forgotten where had been before — but there was no mistaking where was now. He was back on Skeressa. 

The red light from Dirai’s lightsaber washed the surrounding darkness with a crimson glow. Theron was still trapped, strapped to the interrogation table as the darkness and deranged Sith drew in closer, unhinged mutterings about the Force echoing against the unseen walls so loudly it was almost maddening.

There was no moving, no escape as he jerked against his bonds uselessly. With his free hand Dirai roughly pulled the vibroblade from Theron’s side, pain blossoming with the action like he had just stoked a flame. It rose around him like a fire, burning everything it touched including his tormenter. 

As the flames slowly consumed him, Dirai descended into a mad, pain-tinged cackle that drowned out the mutterings still echoing endlessly. The laughter rose in pitch even as Dirai’s scarred and twisted face crumbled into ash. Theron could only watch in helpless horror as the flames rose around him, struggling useslessly against his bonds.

“He will devour everything.” The words swirled around him like the ashes of his dead tormenter, nearly inaudible over the echoing cackle. “All he touches turns to dust.”

Theron pitched back and forth, trying to escape the flames and the invisible bonds holding him down. There was no escape, the weight of the darkness behind the flames crushing down on him, acrid smoke and ash filling his lungs. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t—

Theron, breathe. The flames parted, and a familiar feminine visage came into view. Focus on me.

He blinked and the swirl of fire, pain, and madness seemed to hold still for a second, held at bay by the small figure limned in a soft light. Words couldn’t seem to form, and she graced him with a small smile. When her hand cupped his face, the world began to move again, flames and heat melting away at her light touch.

Just be still, she whispered. Let me help you.

The pain and fire began to pull away, as if they were being sucked into a vortex. They swirled with the light illuminating her soft figure, her calm visage contorting into a grimace as she drew everything to her.

He tried to croak out a protest, but she looked at him again, eyes crinkling in pain even as she graced him with a comforting smile. I am here.

Flame and light swirled together, creating a monstrous visage out of her normally beautiful features.

Do not worry.

Theron wanted to look away, wanted to move, but all he could do was watch as her smile turned into ash and all of the light winked out. Even his shout of denial was lost to the darkness.

It’s going to be okay.

The rain on Yavin IV came down in sheets, like someone had drawn a curtain of water around them all. Theron was soaked to the bone, staring down as the defeated figure of his ancestor stared up at the sky above them in abject horror. 

“The ritual hasn’t even begun!” Revan’s words were nearly lost, drowned out by the pounding rain, and a deep echoing cackle that seemed to come from the planet itself.

Beyond the torrential rain a cloud was rising, a roiling malevolence so dark that it seemed to absorb all the light around it. A shiver ran down his spine, although it was hard to tell if it was from the rain pelting down mercilessly, or from the dark presence that had been awakened. 

The shiver intensified to an uncontrollable tremor, until he was shaking as badly as the ground. He lost his footing and tumbled to the hard stone floor of the ancient temple, unable to stop shaking as the chill spread to every part of his body. The rain continued to pour down as the shadows started to press in.

One by one they fell around him, until he was the only left. Lana, Jakarro, his mother, Marr, and Viszla, even half-mad Revan — all were consumed by the darkness that stalked towards him like a predator. He was frozen in place, the rain pressing him down and tremors racking his body effectively trapping him to the spot. It began to close around him, like a curtain slowly being drawn shut. 

I’ve got you. A hand, blazing in its warmth, rested on his cheek. The tremors holding him in place slowly subsided away, enough to where he could look up to see a familiar, freckled face gracing him with a gentle smile meant only for him. Her blonde hair was flattened against her head, soaked by the never-ending torrent of rain, but she was bathed in a warm glow that seemed to push back the darkness. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.

He leaned in to her, and as her arms wrapped around in him in a tender embrace, warmth flooded back into his frozen veins. She drew him up from the stone floor that was to be his tomb, fingers combing softly through his hair. The action was so soothing, the warmth so comforting, he almost forgot about the darkness pressing in around them on all sides.

I’m going to fix this, Theron. I promise. He nodded his understanding. Ever since they had met, she had pulled off the impossible again and again. She could fight insurmountable odds, save the galaxy time after time, or even make a believer out of a lifelong cynic. She would be able to fix it. Even if Theron wasn’t sure what it was that needed fixing.

As her warmth continued to flood into him, the fingers carding through his hair grew colder, more brittle. He watched as the color drained from her face, until her lips turned blue and all of the light faded away. And as the light faded, the darkness pressed in, curling around and obscuring her form like smoke.

“No—no—”

His protests fell on deaf, frozen ears, her gentle smile turned to ice. He reached out, trying to give the warmth back, but she shattered on his touch.

He tried to cry out, but it was drowned out by a malevolent cackle as the darkness claimed him once more.

Or was he on Rishi, back in the Revanite compound? 

“We are bound together in blood.” The last word seemed accentuated under mechanical rasp. “Together we can save the galaxy from his evil, it’s our family’s destiny.”

The air around Theron was sweltering, humidity pressing down on him like a physical presence as the lightning crackling around him ended in a hiss. The cracked mask hid all of Revan’s features, but the mechanical voice seemed to echo endlessly in the darkened interrogation room.

“Vitiate destroys everything—”

Vitiate… he didn’t go by that name any more…

The prickle of dread rose up along with a good dose of nausea. His ancestor’s mutterings were becoming increasingly unhinged as he alternated between trying to make Theron talk by any means necessary and recruiting him into the fold. But this was wrong, it hadn’t happened like this.

“Trying to stop him cost me everything. My wife. My whole future. I never even got to meet my son…”

The room was just as he remembered it, but everything was just off. He wanted to say something about that, but nothing seemed to work. He was stuck in a state of paralysis as Revan paced back and forth, and the air around Theron just seemed to press in tighter.

“You’re so like Vaner… you both grew up different than we had planned. Without your father. Without the Force. But things could be different this time, this could be a second chance. For both of us.”

No, he’d had a father. Ngani Zho didn’t need to share blood with Theron to have raised him. To have made him the man he was. Maybe someone that maybe Zho would be proud of too. Those words didn’t come out, though, just a pained gasp as Revan’s talk of family and legacy gave way to rants about the greater good.

He was still strapped down to the interrogation table. Trapped like an animal, unable to escape. Helpless. Useless. Just like Skeressa—no. This was Rishi. But how? He had just been on Yavin. The masked figure drew closer, lightning arcing between his fingertips, pulling the darkness around him like a cloak. It closed in around him, oppressive, smothering—

It’s okay. With that familiar voice came a blinding light, beating back the encroaching darkness like the coming dawn. Spots danced in his vision, but he could still make out a familiar feminine silhouette. I’ve got you.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Just breathe… open your eyes…

“But you weren’t there! No one was there—”

I’m right at your side. I haven’t left, I promise.

Lightning shot out from Revan’s fingertips, clouds of darkness following in its wake heading straight towards him. He flinched, but the expected shock never came, just a pained grunt from the figure that had moved to intercept the blast. Just like she had with Dirai. She curled around him, her tiny body forming a barrier, attempting to block all the pain meant for him.

“No,” he croaked, “stop—”

Don’t worry. Her smile was pained, but determination blazed behind those blue eyes. I’m not leaving you.

“That’s what you always say!”

I would never lie to you. Her voice almost sounded choked, desperate. Please, Theron, I just need you to—

Her plea ended in a sucking gasp, eyes widened in shock as a red saber speared through her gut. Revan’s towering figure was almost completely obscured by the darkness, swirling around them madly. She reached out, gently cupping his face. Please hold on—

He tried, but she was whisked away by the darkness, just like every time before. As it pressed in, smothering out every breath he tried to take, he thought he heard something echo in the never ending blackness.

I’m not letting you go.

She was there with him under the red skies of Haashimut, a supportive hand on his back as he stumbled step after step through the desert. There on the Sun Razer during his mad dash for the shuttle, giving him that final shove to safety as everything around him descended into fire and chaos. On the Ascendent Spear as he faced off against Darth Karrid. On Nar Shaddaa. The ODCC. Makeb. Taris. Even though she had been there for none of that the first time, she was there now, voice soft and kind, encouraging him to come back to her. All he had to do was take her hand.

Every time he tried, she swirled away like the sands in the desert, leaving him in darkness before he found himself somewhere else. No matter how hard he tried to hold on, she slipped out of his grasp and he wound up falling again. He was surrounded by the abyss, pure nothingness beckoning with its sweet cold embrace. All he had to do was let go — stop trying and it would all be over.

Please, Theron—her voice surrounded him, raw and pained. Her call was just as desperate as his need to find the end to this maze. He could see just one way out, the abyss beckoning and trying to pull him down like a ship caught in a gravity well. It would be just so easy to let his last grip slip and slide into it the nothingness—please, don’t leave me.

I’m here—a single pinpoint of light lit up the darkness. It could have been as dim as a flickering candle, but in the inky black it was as blinding as the sun. Its warmth reached for him, but couldn’t quite cross the distance, darkness yanking him back like a jealous lover—all you have to do is take my hand.

He just wanted to let go so he could stop fighting and rest. 

Please… just come back to me.

But the pain and desperation in that quiet request lit the last fire of defiance in him, had him reaching across the expanse, fighting against the shadows aggressively trying to tear him away. With the last ounce of strength he flung his arm out blindly, fingers brushing against the light—and he felt it wrap around his hand, firm grasp pulling him from the abyss. Light and color rushed back in, the darkness fading away as the warmth wrapped him in its gentle embrace.

He blinked, the blurry surroundings of the Defender’s medbay slowly coming into focus as a weary freckled face filled his vision. Her blue eyes were fever bright, her face drawn and gray, but the smile that graced him lit up the whole room.

“Thank the Force.” Grey’s voice was barely a whisper, almost as if she had been speaking for days. Her hand was warm in his, her fingers wrapped around him tightly as if she was afraid he might slip away. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

“What…” He trailed off, not sure what the last part of that question should be. The haze and fugue that had chased him for days seemed to be lifting away, leaving a bone-weary exhaustion in its wake. He gave the hand in his a tentative squeeze, feeling a wave of relief wash over him as he felt it returned in kind instead of crumbling away. That he was worried about that at all only added to his confusion.

The bright smile dimmed as Grey slid her eyes shut for a moment. The action didn’t completely hide the red and puffy quality to them, or the still slightly damp tracks glistening on her abnormally pale cheeks. Theron’s lingering confusion began to evaporate away, a spike of concern shooting through him. The rest of that question suddenly materialized.

“What—” his voice croaked, throat dry and parched, and he had to swallow a few times before he tried again, “—just happened?”