#Oh Xaja if only you knew what Theron was up to...

[keldae]

Gifting

Being snowed in together in a seedy motel during a road trip definitely brought people together, in a weird sort of way. Still, Theron wondered if maybe he was reading too much into things as he parked his car in front of Xaja's dad's house. He knew the address, after having dropped her off here a few days ago after their prolonged road trip.

But would she think he was being too forward? He eyed the gift bag on the passenger seat and sighed. Maybe he was becoming too familiar with her. Giving her a Christmas gift could wait until they returned to campus in a week, right?

But he had just driven across the city to reach her place, after thinking of an excuse to get him out of his father's apartment (and away from Jace’s knowing look). It would be a waste of fuel to not give Xaja her gift now. And given gas prices right now, wasting fuel was criminal.

Theron raked a hand through his hair, then quickly checked his mirror to make sure he hadn't messed up the carefully-arranged spikes. Still looked okay? Good enough. He sighed and tried to suppress his nerves as he snatched up the gift bag and got out of the car. What was there to be nervous about? He was only dropping in uninvited to his crush's house, with a Christmas gift he hadn't expected to give her until he'd seen the perfect gift while out shopping yesterday. And it was the house that she shared with her father and brothers -- oh, fuck, what if her dad answered the door?

He ducked down for a final look at his hair in the side mirror, then took a deep breath and marched up to the front door. Someone had placed a pretty wreath on the door, green with red ribbons and white lights. He found the little button for the doorbell and pressed it, then took a step back, debating the merits of just dropping the gift and escaping back to his car before being caught.

The door opened before he could do more than shift his weight. A teenage boy stood before him, already taller than Theron, with long dark hair in a ponytail and dark brown eyes. This had to be one of Xaja's brothers -- even if they hadn't been at the right address, this kid looked a lot like his sister. Didn't she say she had two younger siblings? "Hello?" the teenager tentatively asked.

"Is Xaja here?" Theron asked, wishing his stomach would quit churning.

"Yeah, she is," the kid said. "Who are you?"

"I'm Theron," he introduced himself. "A friend of hers from college."

The kid nodded and stepped back. "Yeah, I think she mentioned you. Come on in." He let Theron enter the house, then turned his head to the interior and took a breath. "Xaj!" he yelled, at a volume that Theron wouldn't have expected of such a soft-spoken teenager.

"What did I say about yelling across the house?" called an older male voice with a noticeable New Zealand accent from somewhere further in and to the left, with a definite tone of exasperation. That had to be Xaja's father.

The kid rolled his eyes and looked back at Theron. "I think she's in the basement. Gimme a sec and I'll go get her." He hurried off, sliding over the hardwood floor in sock feet. "Xaja downstairs?" his voice drifted back. "There's a guy here to see her. He said his name's Theron."

"Like her friend from school?" questioned another male voice -- it had to be her other brother. 

"Yeah, that guy," confirmed the teenager. There was the sound of a door opening. "Xaja! There's a guy here to see you!"

There was the sound of an exasperated sigh from the older male voice. "Would it kill you to go down the stairs instead of yelling?"

"I'm in prime teenage laziness, Dad. Yelling is much more efficient than walking down the stairs."

"Sorand…" 

Ahh, so this was the youngest brother who Theron had just met. He shifted his feet in his boots and waited as he finally heard the sound of footsteps coming up a set of stairs. Xaja's voice drifted down the hallway to him. "What do you mean there's a guy here for me?"

"He said his name's Theron. Isn't that your boyfriend?" Sorand sounded like he was teasing.

"He's not my boyfriend!" came Xaja's indignant squawk, one that made Theron's heart ache. "He's just a really good friend!"

"Ooooh, look!" laughed another voice, one that Theron suspected was Xaja's middle brother. Didn't she say his name was Korin? "She's blushing!"

"Am not! I swear I'm going to take back both of your Christmas presents." Chased by the sound of laughter, Xaja appeared through the same door that Sorand had disappeared through. Her cheeks were bright red with embarrassment, but she smiled happily when she saw Theron. "Hey!" 

"Hey yourself," Theron said with a grin. "I, uh, hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Nah, just watching the Hallmark channel, wrapping presents, and contemplating strangling my brothers," Xaja muttered. "What brings you over? I thought you were spending time with your dad."

"I was," Theron said, "but he got called into meetings today. And I was in this area of the city anyway and…" He shrugged and pulled out the bag from behind his back. "Figured I wouldn't make you wait until going back to campus before giving you this."

"For me? Theron, you shouldn't have!" Xaja seemed to blush brighter as she accepted the gift. "Thank you!"

"I hope you like it," Theron said with a smile, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "Saw it while out yesterday and thought of you. You can open it now if you want, or wait until Christmas…"

"Patience has never been my strong suit," Xaja laughed as she peeked into the bag, then suddenly looked back up. "And I just finished wrapping your gift! Hang on a sec, I'll go grab it." She set the bag down, then went running back down the hallway, sliding in a pair of fuzzy socks before vanishing back through the door.

Theron waited patiently until she came back up a minute later, out of breath but proudly holding a neatly wrapped box. "Merry Christmas!" she said, holding out the gift before frowning and double checking the tag. "I did grab the right one, right…? Oh, good, I did grab the right one!"

"Aww, thank you!" Theron said with a laugh as he accepted the gift. "Can I indulge my inner five-year-old or should I wait?"

"I'm not gonna make you wait if I'm not going to," Xaja grinned as she picked the gift bag back up and peeked inside. She promptly squeaked in delight and dug out the plush kitten. "Awww! He's so cute! Thank you!"

"Anytime! I know you were bemoaning the no-pets rule in the dorm, so figured he could be a good substitute," Theron said with a fond smile, content to watch Xaja. "His name is Chester, and he is the most snuggly and least scratch-happy cat in the world."

"He's adorable!" Xaja happily gave the toy kitten a snuggle, then looked up at Theron. "Aren't you going to open yours?"

"... Oh, yeah, that's a thing," Theron quickly said as Xaja laughed. He tore the wrapping paper back and felt his eyes widen. "Oh, sweet! I still get to indulge my inner child!"

"Lego Star Wars kits are good at any age!" Xaja said with a wink. "And you seem like the type of guy to properly appreciate an AT-ST."

"Ewok squishing is a go!" Theron beamed as he reached over to give Xaja a hug. "Thank you! I'll have fun building this."

"Good!" Xaja laughed and returned the hug, making Theron's heart skip a beat. "Are you busy? You can come in, stay a while if you like. All I'm doing is watching sappy Christmas movies, but I can totally change to, I dunno, Die Hard."

"Which is objectively the best Christmas movie," Theron said with a grin. He checked his watch, judging when Jace would expect him back by. "I can definitely stick around for a bit."

Like he could have said no to Xaja's delighted smile. He hung up his jacket, kicked his boots off, and followed her into the house -- him carrying his new Lego set, her with her toy kitten perched on her shoulder. This was definitely worth driving across the city on a whim for.

He didn't see the three sets of eyes following them from the kitchen. Nor did he see Korin look over at his father and brother, and grin knowingly. "Suuuure, he's not her boyfriend." Sorand snickered in agreement.

"Give your sister a break from the pestering," Reanden said, shaking his head as he turned back to the stove he was working over. "At least until her 'friend' leaves. Go bring up an extra chair for dinner tonight, will you? I have a feeling he'll be sticking around."

#theron/xaja #college!AU #christmas fic #merry christmas! #what to give your crush #the hardest question #fluff #mutual pining #mutual crushes #with commentary from the family #in which Xaja's family has already called it #and they haven't even properly met Theron yet #i need to write more of this AU #long post #since i can't apparently do a readmore on mobile #this post brought to you by a very slow day at work

[keldae]

Fictober 2021 -- Day 7

In a stark contrast to Ziost during its last hours, Carrick Station felt almost oppressively bright and vibrant, full of life and varied emotions beyond just "terror". Xaja wasn't sure if she needed to breathe in the vivid life she could feel, or flee back to the quiet of hyperspace before her senses could be completely overwhelmed. But when she focused, she could just pinpoint Theron's Force-signature, a couple levels below the cantina; drawing her hood up in the universal sign of "do not engage", she started making her way toward the spy.

She arrived at the old meeting room where she'd first encountered him before the Korriban assault, what felt like a lifetime ago. Theron was just disconnecting from a holocall with Master Satele; to judge by his face when he turned around, it definitely had not been a pleasant social call. He sighed, shoulders slumping, until he saw Xaja and his face seemed to light up. It wasn't much, and soon was shadowed by despair again, but it was something. "That… could have gone better," he quietly said.

"To put it mildly," Xaja agreed, approaching the spy and wrapping her arm around his waist. It was a definite sign of how distressed Theron was that he openly leaned into the hug. "That was the Grand Master?"

Theron nodded. "And your brother can confirm just how unhappy she is with this entire fiasco, to say nothing about the Chancellor. I've been ordered onto administrative leave, effective ten minutes ago."

Xaja winced in sympathy. That was almost worse than "disavowed rogue agent". "Theron, this wasn't your fault. You had no way of knowing how badly this was going to go."

"The Chancellor disagrees." Theron glumly sighed. "I'm not sure my mother agrees with you either."

"The blasted Chancellor made it worse," Xaja muttered, already planning to make a detour to Coruscant and give Saresh a piece of her mind. "All she did was give Vitiate more fuel."

Theron flinched slightly. "Did I give him his first victims by sending the Sixth Line there? If I hadn't, there would be more than three survivors…"

"You had no way to know he was going to target Ziost, or what he was going to do. If anything, blame Revan for setting him loose to start with. Or blame me for killing his last body and freeing him from physical form."

"Don't start with that," Theron said, turning to wrap his own arm around Xaja's shoulders. "You got the only real blow on him that anyone's managed in centuries." He sighed, his arm tightening. "And you're lucky you have some immunity from the Chancellor. She can't order a Jedi onto leave like she can me."

"Oh, I'll be expecting a very stern call from the Council and a summons back to Tython." Xaja paused, biting her lip in thought. "That said, I'll probably be ordered back out to figure out where the hell he's gone. You could come with me." It would be dangerous, but she knew just how capable Theron was. She wouldn't admit it, but she was worried about him too, especially after this news of him being put on leave. And hells, she wanted him with her, and not just because he was an excellent partner to work with.

Theron hesitated, seeming to be at war with himself for a long moment. "That… would be nice," he finally said. "But if they realize I'm working with you, we'll both land in shit. If I want any chance of keeping my job…"

"I get it." Xaja sighed and tightened her squeeze around Theron's waist. "I don't want to jeopardize your standing with the SIS -- I know what your job means to you." She rested her cheek against his chest for a moment, then looked up. "Want to hit the cantina, get your mind off of things for a bit? It's on me."

"I'll have to take a raincheck on that, before I get in more trouble for still being here." Theron looked down at her, eyes softening as he tried to muster a smile for her. "But I've got time for this…" His other hand came up to caress her cheek as he stooped down, his lips finding hers in a deep kiss. Uncaring of the consequences should they be discovered like this, Xaja eagerly responded to the kiss, sliding her hand up his chest and raising herself up on the tips of her toes to draw him closer to her. She could feel his emotions behind the kiss -- the guilt he carried with him from Ziost, the grief at so many lives lost, the longing he felt to go with her, the frustration at how everything had shaken out…

They finally had to pull apart for air; Theron rested his forehead against hers for a long moment before straightening up. "We… we better get moving, before someone finds us," he reluctantly sighed. "Last thing we need is more trouble or a rumour mill."

Xaja nodded, giving Theron a final squeeze before stepping back from him. "Will you be okay?" she softly asked.

"... I will be. Eventually." Theron forced a smile for her as he let go. "Call me if you need anything. Even though I probably won't be allowed to do anything official…"

"I might need you to bail me out of jail when I'm finished tearing Saresh a new one," Xaja muttered, and got a snort from Theron. "I'll keep you posted."

"You know where to find me. Not like I'll be going anywhere anytime soon." Theron started walking toward the door, then paused and looked over his shoulder. "May the Force be with you."

"And with you." Xaja smiled as she watched Theron leave for the shuttles to Coruscant, then frowned in thought and dug out her comm. "Kira," she said as she started walking to the Serenity, "I'm going to need you to talk me out of doing something incredibly stupid like yelling at the Chancellor…"

#fictober21 #SWTOR #Theron/Xaja #Ziost #Ziost aftermath #angst #poor Theron #getting eaten alive by the guilt about Ziost #Xaja's willing to throw ALL the blame at Saresh and Vitiate #she's either going to go to Coruscant and yell at Saresh #or go back to Ziost and try to find any survivors #she hasn't decided which one yet #otp: until the stars go out

[keldae]

New Beginnings

Sorand had known for most of his life that he had never completely been a child of the Empire. Sure, he'd been born as a citizen in Imperial Space, along with his brother, and he'd known his father was also Imperial by birth. But his mother, the Corellian Jedi who had hidden her Jedi training and come to Imperial Space with her husband… she had never become a citizen herself, a secret she’d held until her death. And he knew now that his parents' plan had been to take their sons and escape to the Core Worlds before Sith Academy recruiters came snooping for young prospects.

And then his mother had been murdered only days before their planned flight, and life had gone to hell, and Sorand still wound up on Korriban after all. He had still looked for a way to escape to the Republic once he was free of a slave's chains -- first as an apprentice under Darth Zash, and then as a Lord while trying to survive Darth Thanaton’s schemes. But with a Dashade constantly looming nearby, and Imperial eyes always watching, and both Zash and Thanaton tracking him too closely for him to slip away… besides, would the Jedi have believed his claim to be the son of one of their own, even if he had been able to defect? Ashara's first masters on Taris certainly hadn't been willing to talk to him. Honestly, until he had met his sister, Ashara had been the only Jedi willing to hear him out, seeing beyond the black robes and red lightsaber.

And then the odds of a Dark Councillor being able to defect after he’d been abruptly elevated by Darth Marr… less said about that, the better. But at least by then he'd found his father, and the Empire was more bearable with Reanden there. Knowing that his brother and sister were both safely in Republic territory helped, even if he was envious of his siblings for being free of the Empire.

When he had slipped away from Dromund Kaas to join the fledgling rebellion against the Eternal Throne, he hadn't been thinking of any possible citizenships, or really, anything beyond a desperate attempt to rid the galaxy of Zakuul. He hadn't been surprised to hear that Acina had been furious enough to rescind his Imperial citizenship and his title as a Darth. But he had a place in the Mandalorian clans with Shara, and then a purpose in helping free his sister and backing up her efforts to fight Arcann and Vaylin. After Valkorion's destruction, he had joined the rest of the members of the Alliance in asking "Now what?" 

Of course, he hadn't had time to think about that, between the uprisings across the galaxy and the Iokath debacle. At least being Xaja's stand-in to run the Alliance while she had been first pregnant, and then too distraught by Theron’s dumbassery to function, had kept him busy, even if he had started finding a worrying amount of grey strands in his dark hair after Umbara happened and Theron staged that (stupid, idiotic, dumbass, shittily-planned, plain moronic) betrayal. 

Ossus was the first time that he had properly been able to work with Republic forces. Tau Idair had given him some serious side-eye when she heard the Imperial accent that still lingered in his voice, and Nadia Grell had eyed him with no small amount of caution; but Doc had remembered him from the Revanite incident and greeted him as a friend, and Master Gnost-Dural had cautiously accepted him after Xaja vouched for him. From the looks the other Jedi and the colonists gave him, he figured he wasn’t going to be accepted readily, despite being the Hero of Tython’s brother, and quietly resigned himself to the suspicious stares and mutters. At least one good thing had come out of his duel with Darth Malgus in the ancient library: despite getting his ass handed to him and nearly being killed by the Sith, he seemed to have earned the respect of other Jedi and the colonists for standing with Gnost-Dural.

But even after that, and with the resurgence of the conflict over Onderon and Mek-Sha, he had never dared to let himself hope that he would be permanently free of the Empire. Now that he was in the heart of the Republic fleet, surrounded by other members of the Odessen crew and Republic personnel, the new (and perfectly legitimate) identicard that labeled him a Republic citizen still didn't seem real. He subtly pinched his arm, just to confirm this wasn't a dream.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Reanden offered his youngest son a smirk, leaning back against a table in Carrick Station's cantina with a tumbler of Corellian whiskey, looking as comfortable as if he had always been a Republic citizen, not an Imperial one. While Sorand knew his father had been a deep cover SIS operative for longer than he or his siblings had been alive, he was pretty sure this was the first time Cipher Nine had been able to openly relax in Republic Space.

"I never thought it would actually happen," Sorand murmured, still staring at the identicard. A former member of the Dark Council, one who was still known as Darth Imperius to more than a few Imperial soldiers and citizens, holding proof of his new Republic citizenship… Darth Zash and Darth Thanaton would both be turning in their graves at his new status. That thought pleased him almost as much as what his mother's reaction would have been. He looked at his father and gave him a small, melancholic smile. "Mum would be so thrilled if she could see this."

Reanden's dark eyes softened for a moment. "This was the endgame she and I had planned, getting the lot of us back home where we'd wanted you to be. Took the long route getting there, but we got here eventually." For a moment, his contentment vanished behind a scowl. "And just in time for me to be informed that I'm being retired from active field work and getting put to work in training cadets. In case you ever meet him -- the Director’s a dick."

"Aww, I'm sure there's plenty of miscreant cadet spies who need to get whipped into shape. Besides, knowing you, you’ll get bored enough to make him send you back out on missions." Sorand grinned and nudged his father's arm, earning an incoherent mutter and an eyeroll over the whiskey. He then looked at Shara on his other side, contemplatively sipping on an ale. "How are you feeling about this, cyar'ika?"

"It still hasn’t sunk in yet. Never thought I’d be offered Republic citizenship -- I almost wonder if that old Chancellor might’a put in a good word for me or somethin’." Shara shrugged and offered a small half-smile. "Never woulda thought Mandalore would be takin’ up with the Republic either. Weird how life works out -- but I think it’ll all turn out fine." She glanced at a small cluster of station personnel, all eyeing the former Imperials cautiously. "Once that lot all gets over hearin' Mando'a an' Kaasian accents, anyway. Odessen used to be almost half ex-Imp, so there’ll be lotsa Imp accents kickin’ around for a while."

"Trying to change accents is a pain in the ass,” Sorand said with a short laugh, with a passable accent that wouldn’t have been out of place in Hutt Space. Force knew he’d had years of practice in listening to and mimicking Hutt Space accents as a youth. "It’s a work in progre-- oh, hello, Master." He inclined his head to Gnost-Dural, who was just making his way up to the group. 

"Ah, just the former Sith I was looking for." Gnost-Dural nodded. It was hard to tell with the mask, but if the warmth in the Force was any indication, Sorand was pretty sure the old Jedi was smiling. "I was hoping I could steal you for a moment, Impe-- Sorand."

"Of course." Slipping his precious new identicard back in his pocket, Sorand followed the Kel Dor a few paces away to a quiet alcove. The flickerings in the Force gave him no indication of what the Jedi was thinking. "What can I do for you?"

"Less a favour, more a proposition for you. One that your sister might have asked of you if--"

They both heard the muffled shriek of "Kira!" from the upper ring around the cantina, and Sorand could feel a burst of relieved joy from Xaja, accompanied by hurried footsteps as she ran to greet her former protégé, dignity be damned by the sounds of it.

"... If her former Padawan and the former Wrath hadn't just walked up." Gnost-Dural chuckled. "She'll be occupied for a while."

Sorand grinned, glancing up in the direction of Xaja's bright Force-signature, then back to Gnost-Dural. "And she's already the happiest I've seen her in years. Being back in the Republic is good for her."

"The Republic is fortunate to have her back," Gnost-Dural agreed. "But how are you feeling with this change? It's certainly not the Empire."

"Definitely not," Sorand nodded. He hesitated for a moment. "Force knows I wish I’d been able to leave the Empire far sooner. If I had had my way, I would have defected on my own years ago. Being a Sith was… a survival mechanism, and by the time I was elevated to a Darth…" He shrugged. "I honestly figured the Republic would have no place for a former Dark Council member, if they didn’t just shoot me on sight."

"You are far from the first high-ranking Sith to turn their back on the Empire," Gnost-Dural assured him. "Your sister had the Wrath leave with her, after all."

"Yes, but Scourge never really swore himself to the Republic," Sorand pointed out. "He was more focused on taking down Vitiate than in helping defeat the Empire entirely."

"Not untrue. But you…" Gnost-Dural seemed to be looking him up and down. "Every dossier I ever found about you showed you trying to change the Empire from within, or trying to aid Republic operatives when the opportunity presented itself. It is a pity we couldn't open a path for you to come to us before now." He sighed. "But, this is one positive that came about from the changes we've endured over the last few years, ever since the Zakuulan invasion. It's been easier for people like you to slip away in the chaos, whether to the Republic or to the Alliance."

Sorand nodded his agreement, his hand brushing over the pocket of his nondescript jacket where his identicard rested. "After everything that's happened, it feels surreal that this is finally happening. I still feel like I'm going to wake up any moment now."

Gnost-Dural chuckled, then seemed to grow more serious. "What are your plans, now that Odessen is a member world of the Republic?"

"My wife and I haven't discussed it much yet," Sorand admitted. "With Mandalore signing on with the Republic as well, Shara's thinking of contracting out her hunting skills. There were a lot of families that were split up during Zakuul's invasion, and the SIS can't find everyone."

Gnost-Dural nodded. "And yourself?"

"I'm not sure." Sorand shrugged. "I'm pretty sure Xaja will still want me around as her deputy, at least until Odessen has a finalized government beyond being a military outpost." He frowned slightly. "Although I dearly hope she's not planning on asking me to be the Senate representative."

That got a chuckle from the old Jedi. "You really are like your sister. She has never been fond of politics either." He paused for a moment. "I may have a proposition for you, one that should hopefully give you an 'out' from being a Senator."

"What is that?"

Gnost-Dural shifted to cross his hands behind his back, comfortably at ease. "The Jedi Order has a long road back to recovery, as you know. Your sister accepted a role on the newly reforming Jedi Council, but we do need all the help we can get. You would be a great asset. I would like to formally offer you a place in the reforming Jedi Order."

Sorand had spent years learning to hide his emotions, masking his reactions and thoughts to everyone around him during his years as a Sith. And every bit of those honed instincts abandoned him right then, eyes widening, mouth falling open for a second before he recovered. "A place in the… you're serious?"

"Dead serious. Your knowledge of the Sith is helpful, but your power with the Force; your skill with healing; and your knowledge of the history of both Jedi and Sith is a rare and valuable asset." Gnost-Dural nodded. "You wouldn't be a Master to start, of course -- you would start as a Padawan. But I don't see you staying in that rank for long." He chuckled. "And you're far from the oldest recruit to join our ranks."

A Jedi… even in his wildest, most deeply secret dreams of defection, Sorand had never dared to truly let himself imagine being offered a place in the Order's ranks. Even if he was restarting as a Padawan, this was already a dream he had never dared to hope for. "I don't know what to say. I'm… I'm incredibly honoured," he breathed out, then hesitated. "... I am married with a family, though, and my first commitment is to them. Will that be a concern?"

"A decade ago, perhaps. But I think the Jedi are evolving with the galaxy -- some things do change. Besides, your sister is also rejoining us with a husband and a child. It would be rather hypocritical for her to keep her family, and to ask you to give up your own. I understand you're both Corellian as well -- it is the tradition of the Green Jedi to have families." 

"It is," Sorand acknowledged, inwardly trying to control his sheer excitement at being extended this offer. "Who would be my Master?"

Gnost-Dural chuckled again. "Well, if you're content with having an old man as your Master, I think it's time I took on a new Padawan myself. And after fighting against Malgus with you on Ossus, I would be pleased to have you at my back. You're a good man, despite what the Sith tried to turn you into."

"I had a good teacher as a child," Sorand murmured, thinking back to the lessons his mother had taught him… the lessons that had kept him sane and attuned to the Light, even in the darkest parts of the Empire. Even looking past his excitement, he could feel the Force all but pushing him to accept the offer. He swore he could feel his mother's spirit proudly beaming at him. "I… I'm honoured to accept. I can think of no better teacher."

He was sure Gnost-Dural was smiling under his mask. "The honour is mine, Padawan. The Jedi are fortunate to have both your sister and you." The old Jedi reached out to clasp his new student's shoulder, then stepped back. "Take the evening to relax and enjoy your new citizenship. We'll begin your training tomorrow."

"Thank you, Master." The phrase that he had absolutely loathed during his years as a slave, and his tutelage under Zash, felt comfortable and easy here, when directed to a Jedi. He managed to keep his elation somewhat tempered down until after Gnost-Dural took his leave… and then let the broad, excited grin take over as he made his way back to his father and his wife.

Reanden raised an eyebrow as his younger son rejoined them. "Well, you look particularly gleeful, buddy. What's up?"

Sorand felt his grin lessen slightly as he wondered how the news of his new status would be taken. "Well…" he slowly said, "of all the titles I've had or planned to have… I never expected 'Padawan' to be on that list."

Reanden's eyes widened. "Padawan, is it?" Then he looked over at Shara and grinned as he held his hand out. "I win. Pay up, kiddo."

“Wait.” Sorand blinked. “Did you two have a bet going for what that chat was going to be about?”

"Totally thought it was gonna be Alliance osik," Shara ruefully said with a smirk as she pulled a few credits out of her pocket and handed them to her father-in-law, then looked at Sorand. "The Jedi know we're a package deal, right?"

"Yes. Apparently that's going to be a little less of an issue in the new Order." Sorand grinned and hugged Shara across the shoulders, kissing her forehead. "You're still stuck with me, cyar'ika… just with much less ambient lightning."

Shara laughed and stretched up to kiss his cheek. "Long as you ain't replacing that with jetiise preachy osik, we're good. I can't wait to see your brother's face when he gets the news."

Oh, Korin's reaction was going to be hilarious, Sorand knew… even if he was pretty sure Theron was trying to push the spacer in the general direction of the SIS. But that was something to think about later. Right now, it was an evening to celebrate. The Empire reeling from a successful Republic blow; a new citizenship and a place in the ranks of the Jedi; and the knowledge that he would never, ever need to return to the Empire…

Yes, he thought, smiling as he waved his brother over to tell the news to. Life was the best it had been in years.

#SWTOR #Kel writes #holy shit we have FIC! #post-Onslaught #Sorand #Reanden #Shara #feelings! #someone is DELIGHTED to be out of the Empire for good #LS!Inquisitor #you know he was totally going to join the Jedi as soon as he got a chance #Gnost-Dural #these two are gonna get along swimmingly #pair of bookworms FTW #wonder how long it'll take before he's graduated to Knight #I need to roll up another consular for him #also #I need to write the story of his and Malgus' duel on Ossus #ex-Sith bro here has a bitching facial scar from it #ex-Darth Imperius -- now with much less ambient lightning

[keldae]

Writer’s Month 2020: Day 12

Comic-Con was chaos; a storm of cosplayers, movie paraphernalia, comic books, and bulky prop weapons. It was definitely Xaja’s favourite weekend of the year, even with the ambient smell of a thousand unwashed fanboys in the air.

Feeling a hand on her armoured elbow, she let Kira guide her around a cluster of anime cosplayers to an empty bit of floor near a wall. "Last time we try getting into a panel like that in full armour," the shorter redhead griped as she leaned against the concrete wall for a brief break. 

"It was your idea, remember? Besides, the devs loved us." Kira gave herself a quick pat-down to make sure her Black Widow weapons were still attached to her costume, then craned her neck to look around. "Annnnd I think we lost our Hawkeye, Thor, and Mando."

"Knowing Korin, he'll be flirting with the cosplay models and making an idiot out of himself," Xaja commented with a grin. "And I think Corey said he's trying to set Sorand up with another one of the other Mando cosplayers, so we'll see how that goes."

"Oh, that'll be adorable." Kira laughed as she retrieved her phone from a pocket on her costume. "How ya holding up? Need out of the armour for a bit?"

"Nah. Once I get out of this armour, I'm not putting it back on." Leaning over, Xaja tried to read over Kira's shoulder. "What time is it, anyway?"

"About… ten past two. We still got an hour before our photo op with-- oooh!" Kira waved at a couple of girls walking past -- one as Éowyn, and one as Padmé. "Hang on a sec, the Padmé's a friend of mine, gotta go say hi!"

Xaja laughed and settled back to watch Kira scamper over, envying her friend's mobility in her costume. But she knew she couldn't complain too loudly, when she had insisted on going as Commander Shepard, on the busiest day of the con. At least she could see everything around her, as opposed to her youngest brother insisting on a restrictive Mandalorian helmet. Although Sorand was so smuggly proud of being able to sit and sprawl in his own costume, a feat that Xaja couldn't achieve very well in her construction of foam and thermoplastic…

She abruptly straightened up, squinting into the crowd. There had been few enough Mass Effect cosplayers this year that anyone sporting N7 gear stood out. And this guy looked like he'd made his armour as close to an exact replica as possible. She had no idea who the stranger was wearing the costume, but for cosplayers, that was only a minor detail. "Kaidan!" she called out to the cosplayer, waving as she pushed away from the wall.

The other cosplayer turned as he heard his character's name, and his amber eyes lit up when he recognized her costume. "Shep!" He made his way over to her, giving her an appreciative up-and-down look. "Nice build! You look good."

"Thanks, so do you!" Sure, so maybe the fauxhawk the guy was rocking wasn't quite accurate for Kaidan, but he looked really good otherwise -- and really cute, a little voice in the back of her head muttered. Trying to shoo the voice away, Xaja looked the guy over again with a an excited grin. "I have got to get a selfie with you."

"Yeah, of course! Have a phone on you?"

"I--" Xaja frowned as she looked behind her. Dammit, Kira still had both of their phones -- such was the burden of being the one with the pockets in their costume. "Mine just walked off with Black Widow. She should still be near-ish…”

"No worries, I can text you a picture. Hey, Jonas!" The cosplayer waved at a friend of his, another guy in a suit and shades that made Xaja think of James Bond. "You still got my phone, right?"

"Yeah, I -- oooh, nice Shep!" The guy in the suit, presumably Jonas, gave Xaja a grin. "You're killing the look, Shepard. Have you seen the Garrus running around?"

"Yeah, Garrus is a buddy of mine in real-life. I'm surprised you're only the first Kaidan I've seen," Xaja added, looking at the first guy.

"Me too, surprisingly. You're definitely the best Commander Shepard we've seen all weekend, though." 'Kaidan' winked at her. "Did they use you as the model for the game? You look that good."

"You are gonna make me blush, Kaidan,” Xaja laughed, feeling unexpectedly shy, yet pleased, at the compliment.

He laughed, amber eyes warm with amusement. "And so much for not breaking character…"

"A'right, on the note of being in-character, quit flirting with your CO for like thirty seconds, dumbass." Jonas grinned as 'Kaidan' blushed, then held the phone up. "Kay, strike a pose…"

'Thirty seconds' turned into a few minutes, as a cluster of other con attendees caught a glimpse of Commander Shepard and Kaidan, and decided they needed to get photos too -- at one point, Xaja was sure that she saw one of her brothers in the crowd, snapping a picture. But eventually, the throng died down, and 'Kaidan' carefully removed a gauntlet and glove so he could take his phone back from Jonas. "How do these look?" he asked, tilting the phone so Xaja could inspect the photos taken.

"They look great!" Xaja grinned as her new friend scrolled through the pictures. "Damn, we look good."

"Glad you agree." 'Kaidan' winked. "You okay if I text them to you?"

"Of course." Xaja let him type her number into the message bar, then looked back up at him. "By the way, I'm Xaja."

"I'm Theron, if you get tired of calling me Kaidan." He shot her a grin. "There -- sent. You gonna be around tomorrow too?”

“You bet! I think my friends and I are planning on doing a Dragon Age group.”

Theron winked at her. “I’ll keep an eye open for you, then. See you around.”

Xaja smiled and waved as he made his way off to catch up with Jonas, vanishing as a Dalek rolled across her field of vision, then turned to look around. “There you are,” she exclaimed as she finally caught sight of Kira, who’d caught up with Korin.

“There you are!” Kira retorted. “Turned around and you’d disappeared. Where’d you go?”

“Found a Kaidan,” Xaja answered, like that explained it all. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Corey’s still playing wingman for Sorand over at the Mandos, and I think he’s actually succeeding. And I think Jakar’s still in another panel.” Korin grinned as he shifted his Hawkeye bow to his other hand. “So, a Kaidan, huh?”

“You lose that smug grin of yours, little brother,” Xaja retorted, rolling her eyes as Korin’s grin just got wider. “Hey Kira, you still have my phone?”

“Yeah -- and I can’t unlock it, but you’re getting texts from a strange number,” Kira answered as she held out the device. “Anything to be worried about?”

“Nah. I just got Kaidan’s number.” Xaja smiled as she accepted her phone, taking a moment to look at the pictures of her and Theron. Yes, he definitely pulled off the costume well… and Xaja suspected he looked just as good in normal clothing. Hopefully, if she didn’t see him again today, she would run into him again tomorrow.

#writersmonth2020 #Theron/Xaja #Comic-Con AU #is that a thing? It is now #cosplayers #meet cute #trying to figure out a redheaded character Xaja could pull off was hard yo #that is one way to ask someone for their number #;) #cosplayer AU? #also #can you tell that I really really miss comic expos? #and cosplaying? #I WANNA TROOP AGAIN

[keldae]

@starknstarwars had sent me a prompt for “First Hug -- Theron/Xaja”. The hellsite unhelpfully ate the post when I tried to schedule it, but happily I had a backup on GDocs. Behold, your prompt answer! (If you folks haven’t read Xaja’s backstory, I’d recommend reading this for context.)

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"Pretty sure that's our guy," Korin muttered as he and Xaja sat at a table inside the Blaster's Path, watching the cantina through the dim lights. "Big-looking Nikto over there, eyeballing the dancers."

"I see him," Xaja murmured back to her brother. "And that datapad he was using… it's gotta have something useful Theron or Dad can pull for finding the Nova Blades' hideout."

"Or the psycho cultists themselves," Korin nodded. "Shame he’s being so protective of it. How are we doing this? Jumping him when he tries to leave?"

"There's a pack of other Nova Blades kicking around nearby," Xaja shook her head. "We jump him, we'll get too much attention. We just need to get that datapad off of him quietly."

"Well, we'd better figure something out quick, 'cuz he looks like he's about to get up and go. And we ain't gonna be lucky enough for him to be goin' for a dancer."

"You would like that, wouldn't you…" Xaja rolled her eyes as Korin shrugged and grinned. Her brow furrowed in thought for a moment before she stood up, tugging her jacket back over her lightsabers. "I'm a little rusty, but he's also had a few drinks… just be ready to cause a scene if I need cover."

"Not that I'm not down for causing a scene," Korin slowly said, frowning in confusion, "but what are you doing?"

"Trust me. I know almost exactly what I'm doing." Xaja shot him a wink, then stepped away from the table and vanished into the milling patrons of the cantina. A short human woman like her could disappear easily in this crowd, even with that bright hair of hers.

"I got a bad feeling about this…" Korin muttered under his breath as he tried to not look like he was searching for his sister in the crowd, and keep an eye on their target at the same time. He quietly swore when the pirate stood up, stowing the datapad in a pocket, and started looking for ways to cause a disturbance to slow the Nikto down.

He almost missed the glimpse of Xaja appearing just beside the Nikto. Her right hand flicked slightly, and the Nikto sharply looked away from her, frowning like he had heard something. If Korin hadn't been watching the exchange like a hawk, he probably wouldn't have seen how Xaja's left hand deftly slipped into the Nikto's pocket, relieving him of his datapad before she slipped back into the crowd. None the wiser for the theft, the Nikto finally shrugged and started making his way to the cantina's back exit.

"Well, I'm not as rusty as I thought," spoke Xaja's voice just behind Korin, making him startle. When he looked back at his sister, he could see a proud smirk and the edge of the datapad, protectively hidden under her jacket. "Still got it."

"How in the hells--?"

"I'll explain later.” Xaja glanced over her shoulder, ignoring Korin’s bewildered stare. “Let's get out of here before he realizes the datapad's gone and comes looking."

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The safehouse was quiet when the siblings made it back unscathed -- only Theron was present, frowning down at his console screen. "Welcome back," he distractedly called over as he heard their footsteps. "Turn up anything useful?"

"Yeah, I think so." Slipping the datapad out of her jacket, Xaja made her way over to Theron and handed him the small computer, trying to ignore how her heart skipped a beat when she saw his amber eyes soften in a smile. "Stole that off a stray Nova Blade. It should have some decent intel on it."

Theron's eyebrow raised, impressed. "Nicely done." He reached to take the datapad from Xaja; his fingers just brushed her own, and she had to firmly tamp down her shiver. She did not have a crush on the handsome spy, she scolded herself, and reacting to him like a lovestruck teenager was a distraction from the important task at hand. A Jedi Master could keep a grip on her emotions, dammit.

She almost missed his next words, while she was silently arguing with herself. "And considering neither of you look like you went ten rounds with any grouchy pirates, I'm guessing Korin's sneakier than I gave him credit for."

"Don't look at me -- that bit of criminal activity was not my doing, believe it or not." Korin shook his head as he flopped onto a couch. "You gotta tell me how a Jedi learned how to pick pockets like that, Xaj…"

Theron blinked in surprise, then grinned. "Wait, what new scandal is this? Our resident Jedi is a practised thief? This has gotta be one for the tabloids."

Xaja groaned as she stepped back while Theron chuckled, shaking her head. "It's a really long story…"

"I'm all ears." Korin grinned. "And for listening to a Jedi, even. Don’t get used to it."

"Wonders never cease," Xaja deadpanned before frowning down at her crossed arms, aware of Theron turning to lean back against his computer, listening in. "... So the story starts back when I was a kid. When the… I-I was in the Temple when it was attacked in the Sacking." She felt concern and pity spiking in the Force around her from both of her listeners, the cheerful mood in the room faltering to sadness. "I managed to get out through the sublevels and hid in the Works--"

"As a kid?!" Korin's eyes bulged as he shot upright. "How the fuck did you not die?"

"Sheer luck, and small seven-year-olds being able to hide easily?" Xaja shrugged, unable to meet Korin or Theron's gazes. "I… well, I had to find a way to survive, and none of the adults in the area were… trustworthy. So I, uh… I learned how to pick pockets. It wasn't a lot, but it kept me alive."

"Shit… I'm sorry." Theron's voice was unusually soft and gentle. "I can't even imagine what that must have been like."

"And as a kid…" Korin soberly frowned. "That was not the story I had imagined you learning pick-pocketing in."

"Why, what'd you expect?" Xaja looked up with a little frown.

"Some sorta wild escapade involving a protocol droid, half the Hutt Cartel, two monkey-lizards, and a goat…"

Xaja snorted, relieved at Korin's innate ability to wreck a serious mood as the spacer smirked. "No, that's the speeder hotwiring story. Ask nicely and I might tell that one someday."

"I gotta hear that one sometime, and I’ll buy as many rounds as it takes to hear that story." Theron grinned before frowning. "How'd you make it back to the Jedi? They don't frequent the Works on the best of days."

"No… and I'm not sure I would have believed anyone claiming to be a Jedi, not when… when I thought everyone else had been killed." Xaja looked back down at her arms, then back up. "It was a couple of years after the Sacking. I had found an area near what's now Justicar territory where a lot of smugglers were operating out of. I snuck onto a ship to hide from… from what I think was a slave trafficker. I must have fallen asleep while hiding, since I woke up when the ship was in hyperspace. The crew of the ship didn't have enough to spare for another mouth, so they let me off at their next port, which was Ord Mantell."

"Yeeesh," Korin muttered. "Not much of an upgrade there."

"At least there weren't cthons and psychotic droids," Xaja pointed out, unaware of Theron suddenly frowning. "Anyway, I… I was scared of pretty much everyone, so I kept doing my pick-pocketing thing for… maybe a month? Kept getting away with it until I stole a credstick from this one guy -- he might've been a teenager, I can't quite remember. But he was with a couple of older men, one of whom was a Jedi, and they eventually managed to catch me--"

"Ghost." Theron had pushed off from the computer he'd been leaning against, eyes wide and face paling. The Force around him flickered with shock. “Hells... you're the little Ghost from Fort Garnik."

Xaja felt the blood drain from her face as she put together the pieces that Theron had already connected. She hadn't ever told anyone else the name that the kind teenager had given her while working to earn her trust, when she was just a terrified little girl, on a planet that she didn’t know. If Theron knew that name... "Fuck," she whispered, her hands flying to her mouth. "That was you?! You were the…" 

"You were that little kid who was too scared to talk to anyone…"

"You're the guy I stole that credstick from, who kept trying to talk to me…" Xaja could feel the planet starting to tilt under her feet as she tried to process this new information. "Oh, hells…"

She heard Theron take two long strides toward her, his hands awkwardly settling on her shoulders. "You okay? You look like you're gonna faint…"

Xaja shook her head, trying to focus on just breathing, until she felt Theron hesitantly pull her into a hug. "I didn't think I'd ever find out who you were…" she whispered as she leaned into the hug, her hands settling onto his sides. She could feel his rib cage moving with his breaths, and tried to centre herself on that… a task made far more difficult when she realized she was close enough to confirm that he smelled really, really good.

"Marcus and I tried to keep tabs on you, but lost track of you when we didn't know your name…" Theron sounded stunned, almost as much as Xaja felt. "Always wondered what had happened to you…"

"Fuck. I never thought..." Xaja shook her head into Theron's chest, then sheepishly mumbled, "Sorry about the credstick."

That got a snorted laugh over her head as the hug tightened reassuringly. "Don't worry about that. You clearly needed it more than I did."

"I owe you a few big ones…" Xaja finally slid her arms around Theron's waist and tightly squeezed. "Thank you," she whispered. "I never got to thank you for rescuing me. You saved my life, doing that… thank you."

"Don’t mention it." She could feel Theron rest his cheek against her hair, the pressure solid and reassuring. "Good thing we found you when we did. I'm glad you turned out okay, after all of that…"

Maybe, considering the circumstances, she could be excused for burying her face in Theron's chest and savouring the tight, secure, protective hug around her slim frame. For all that Master Gilrad had done in bringing her back to a Jedi Enclave for desperately-needed healing, it had been the boy with the kind amber eyes and bright red jacket who had rescued her by earning her trust… the boy who had become the handsome, clever, snarky spy she trusted now, and who she still stubbornly denied she had any sort of a crush on. The Force, she decided, had a really weird sense of humour.

Having completely forgotten about Korin still sitting there watching the entire thing go down, she was unaware of her brother smiling at her and Theron before turning away and slipping out of the safehouse on quiet feet. Best to intercept whoever was due to return to the safehouse (if he remembered correctly, probably Jakarro) and give the spy and Jedi inside time to process this unexpected reunion. He could pester one of them for more details as to their apparent very-first meeting as kids later.

Besides, maybe if they were alone for a while, it would do something about the ridiculous sexual tension between the two of them that everyone else could feel.

#thanks for the ask! #starknstarwars #Theron/Xaja #Korin #Shadow of Revan #slow burn #backstory #revelations and reunions #the Hero of Tython moonlights as a pickpocket #and apparently also knows how to hotwire a speeder? #standby one for her to tell me that story #OTP: until the stars burn out #still lowkey bitter over Tumblr eating the first attempt at posting this #SWTOR #Theron Shan x Jedi Knight

[keldae]

Soulmate AU prompt: the one where your soulmate’s last words to you are written on your body.

For as long as Theron could remember, the words “Wait for me” had been written across his forearm, invisible to any eyes but his own. When he had childishly asked Master Zho about it after learning to finally read, the old Jedi had told him that the Force had chosen a soulmate for him, and those were the last words of that soulmate that Theron would hear. 

Theron’s next innocent question had been if Master Zho had any words written on him. That got a cough and an incoherent mutter before he was sent to go do more meditation exercises.

By the time he was 15, he was jaded and angry enough to give up on the idea of a soulmate ever really existing. “Wait for me”, pfft. The hell type of last words are those, anyway?

It didn’t stop him from flinching somewhat every time he heard “Wait for me!” being spoken around him, even if it wasn’t directed at him.

He had almost forgotten about the words when Master Taerich walked into his and Darok’s planning room. Truthfully, he still didn’t think about it until after he, Lana, and Jakarro and Dee-Four had made it to Rishi intact and settled into the safehouse. 

As he had stripped down to shower, the words on his arm caught his gaze for the first time in weeks. Wait for me. This time, he swore he heard the pretty Jedi’s voice in his head saying that.

Impossible. She’s a Jedi! They don’t... Jedi don’t have soulmates! Theron stubbornly shook his head and tried to banish that terrifying thought from his mind. His forearm was red from scrubbing by the time he finally finished his shower, the words still displayed tauntingly on his skin.

He paced around the tiny kitchen of his apartment, balefully staring out the window at the Eternal Fleet in orbit around Coruscant. Zakuul had taken everything: his faction’s independence, his planet’s safety, and the woman Theron was only now admitting he had loved. There was no amount of whiskey in the galaxy that could take away that pain.

And yet, the damned words still lingered on his arm. Those hadn’t been Xaja’s final words before leaving Coruscant -- her words had been “I promise”. A promise you broke, he bitterly thought. 

He flopped onto his couch, whiskey still in hand, as he glowered down at the words. They were the wrong words. Or, despite how his heart kept shattering in his chest, Xaja Taerich hadn’t been his destined soulmate. Maybe the entire thing about soulmates was a sham after all, no matter how he had felt when he was with her. 

Or... he felt a sliver of hope cut through his despair. Maybe “I promise” hadn’t been Xaja’s last words to him. Maybe she still had more words to say to him, more than the words engraved into Theron’s skin. Maybe...

Maybe she was still alive.

“Theron, please!”

Oh, it hurt to walk away from her, or to hear that desperate, heartbroken tone in her voice. Theron clenched his jaw and forced himself to not turn around as he strode back through the train car to his escape speeder. If he turned around, he was going to completely blow the op. He didn’t want to see the tears he knew had to be trickling down Xaja’s cheeks or see the fear in her eyes, only half because he knew it would make him run back to her. Lana knows the plan. Lana will get her out safely. You have to keep her alive.

“Theron!” Stars, Theron had never wanted to hear Xaja sound so terrified or betrayed. “Please, wait--”

Panic shot through Theron’s heart. This couldn’t be the moment when he heard Xaja’s last words to him, not like this! He broke into a run as he pulled the detonator out of his pocket and pushed the trigger button. The train rocked violently as he lunged the last few strides for the speeder. Over his shoulder, he just heard Xaja’s cry as she fell, her words cut off mid-sentence. 

Lana will get her out. Lana will take care of her. Theron mounted the speeder and flew away from the doomed train, risking himself for a moment to watch the crash. His heart stayed in his throat until he saw two women -- one with long red hair, one with blonde -- jump from the crashing train. He nodded to himself when he saw them just clear the wreckage, then flew away to where Korin had parked the shuttle. Time for the next stage of the plan.

His existence was pain, the epicentre a fire burning through his chest. Stars, it hurt to breathe. It hurt to do anything, including looking around. Sight was becoming difficult anyway, with how dark everything was getting. 

Red appeared over him, and he wrinkled his nose as he felt loose strands of Xaja’s hair brushing against his skin. She didn’t seem to notice it; Theron could feel her hands cradling his face, hear her hitched breaths. “Don’t leave me, Theron,” she whispered, sounding perhaps even more terrified than she had on the cursed train. “Stay with me, please...” 

Theron tried to give her a smile as he managed to grip her wrist with his hand. She’s here. She’s here. I can hold on. “Alwa--” he started to whisper.

“Don’t say that!” Panic laced itself through Xaja’s suddenly-shrill voice. “Anything but that!” When Theron focused on her blurry face, he could see the tears racing down her too-pale cheeks, the terror in her eyes. “Theron, please, not now, not like this!”

Why wouldn’t... Theron glanced to Xaja’s forearm, suddenly guessing what word had been written on his wife’s skin from birth, then looked back at her eyes. Not now. Need to... say something... something else. “... Love you,” he finally whispered. The strain in his chest was worth it to see the panic lessen in her eyes, even if only slightly.

“I love you too.” Xaja rested her forehead against Theron’s; he could feel her tears falling onto his skin. “Stay with me, love. We’re going to get you home. Just stay with me, please... don’t leave me...”

“Don’t... tell me to wait...” Theron heard himself whisper as he sank into unconsciousness. 

It was time. Over fifty years after Xaja had all but screamed for him to not say that one word while he had fought for his life, he now rested in a hospital bed. Force knew he had spent enough time in these beds over his life. Fitting that he should be in one at the end. 

He just saw the doctor nod at Xaja as his breath became more difficult. It was time. She took a shaky breath, then nodded at the doctor. Theron heard a switch being moved, and knew that the machines prolonging his life had been disengaged. After ninety-odd years, he was ready to go. 

He managed to give Daenril and Lynaen, both standing beside his bed, a weak smile, then looked up at Xaja’s worn face. “See you on the other side,” he whispered to his family, gazing up at the jade green eyes he had fallen in love with so long ago.

Xaja smiled and leaned down to rest her forehead against his own. “Wait for me,” she murmured. And this time, Theron wasn’t terrified of hearing those words coming from her, knowing it would be the last thing he heard her say.

“Always,” he softly answered. He glanced away from Xaja’s wobbly smile in time to see Always appear on her forearm, and knew Wait for me was finally visible on his own skin. 

The last thing he felt was Xaja’s kiss against his lips before peaceful, quiet darkness settled over him. He blinked, then saw Master Zho, smiling as he held out a hand for his last student to take. 

Theron looked down at his own hands, young and strong again like he had de-aged sixty years, then grinned. “Be there in a bit,” he said to Master Zho as he glanced behind him. “I promised her I’d wait.”

Master Zho chuckled and lowered his hand, sitting down and waving for Theron to sit beside him. “May as well get comfortable then, while Orgus and Airna argue over who gets to greet her first.” He smiled as Theron sat beside him and clapped his shoulder. “Well done, Theron. You did good.”

Theron smiled at the praise from his old mentor, and settled in to wait for Xaja. I promised.

#THERON MADE ME CRY #thanks for the prompt! #Theron/Xaja #OTP: until the stars burn out #Master Zho #the old-and-grey-and-legion-of-grandkids ending #peaceful death #and yet it made me cry as much as writing an AU battle-death #headcanon that Master Zho and Satele both wanted to greet Theron into the afterlife #Master Zho claimed seniority #knowing your soulmate's last words is both a sense of relief and a source of anxiety #storyknitter

[keldae]

Drastic Measures (Chapter Twenty-Eight)

Saresh wasn’t sure if the emotion racing through her veins was fear or wrath. Her instincts suggested fear might be winning out: Destruction of one of the last hidden Jedi outposts was terrible news for the Republic, and that news was beginning to spread. She could already imagine morale plummeting at the report. Worse, Republic operatives sent to investigate the massacre indicated that Satele Shan’s ship had been found on the planet, shot almost beyond the point of recognition by Zakuulan forces. The former Grand Master’s body hadn’t yet been accounted for among the dead — it could only be assumed that she was taken prisoner by the Zakuulans.

The Twi’lek ran a hand down her face. On a personal level, she hadn’t been fond of Master Shan, but blast it, the woman had been Grand Master of the Jedi Order. She was a valuable strategic prisoner, even before her role as the mother of Theron Shan. Saresh almost pitied the Jedi.

But perhaps having Master Shan would make Zakuul loosen their stranglehold on the Republic. Rumours filtered in -- sightings of Xaja Taerich and Theron Shan, their last confirmed location being Dromund Kaas. And they had reportedly departed with notorious Imperial agent, Cipher Nine. Known and feared throughout the galaxy, Saresh still couldn’t quite believe the report Kovach had sent to her, indicating that the infamous spy was father to the rogue Jedi. It did perhaps explain the girl’s sharp temper and vicious language when provoked, however, she mused.

A ship matching the description of Cipher Nine’s was reported to have landed on Nar Shaddaa. But neither the old spy nor his charges had been found on board. The SIS station chief in that sector, Ardun Kothe, hadn’t reported seeing the Imperial agent on the moon, nor had he seen Taerich or Shan. It seemed the pair of fugitives had vanished into thin air once again.

This time, however, they left more trouble in their wake: Arcann had all but accused Empress Acina of sheltering them to stir trouble in the Republic. Acina had, in turn, accused Saresh of sending her problems to Dromund Kaas, creating strife in the Empire — which certainly had happened, with Darth Imperius having shown himself a traitor and disappearing. Saresh only wished it had been intentional. As it was, she took the news as proof that Taerich and Shan were both traitors and working with Imperius — to what end, even back before the war had broken out, she wasn’t sure.

But now the galaxy teetered toward open war again, and this time the Republic was terribly crippled. Saresh found herself missing the quiet reassurance of the Jedi only a short hyperspace jump away on Tython, and Jace Malcom’s brilliant strategic decisions.

We don’t need them, she tried to tell herself. The Empire is even more fragmented than we are right now. We can win without the Jedi, or Malcom. Perhaps if she told herself that more, she would start to believe it.

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Korin knew that his younger brother had a reputation for being tough and unfazed by almost everything around him. It was why he was such a good leader for the resistance and why he’d done so well on the Dark Council, after all. And it made Sorand hurrying up to him, pale-faced like he’d seen a ghost, way out of character. The smuggler frowned as the Sith made his way over to him. “You okay?” Korin asked as he took in just how spooked Sorand looked. “You look like that one time you walked in on Skadge losing strip sabaac to Andronikos.”

“Don’t remind me of that…” Sorand muttered. “I’m still considering taking up drinking to purge that memory.” He paused and shook his head. “Actually, I might take up drinking anyway.”

That made Korin blink. “Darth Paranoia, going for alcoholism? I thought you hated drinking after the one time with the tihaar--”

“Oh, shut up.” Sorand furtively glanced around, then lowered his voice. “I need a list of every single Jedi in this cell — Tythonian, Corellian, questionably dark, whatever.”

“There a particular reason you need a roster?”

The younger Taerich hesitated, lips pursed.“There’s a literal near-duplicate of Mum walking around here,” he admitted at length, “and I need to figure out who the blazes she is.”

Korin’s brain stalled out for a moment as he tried to process the statement. “Uhhh… what?”

Sorand pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s a woman here, wearing Jedi-type clothing in shades of green, makes me think she’s Corellian. She has a saber-staff, and it sure as hell isn’t of Sith design or a Sith outfit. And kriffing hells, Kor’, she looks like Mum -- just with hazel eyes and no freckles.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a bunch of red-haired Jedi ladies who look like —”

“No, she looks like Mum. Like if Mum had a sister, that would be her. If I didn’t know Mum was dead…”

“Shit, she looks that much like Mum?”

“Yeah.” Sorand shook his head and hissed out a heavy breath through his teeth. “It’s damned creepy is what it is, even by Sith standards. And I have no idea who the hells she is.”

“If she’s Corellian, that’ll narrow the options down,” Korin murmured, frowning at his crossed arms. “Not a hell of a lot of Corellians who jump off-world for anything unless they’re pilots, and even less Green Jedi who’ll leave the Enclave. I’ll grab Vector, see if he knows anything.”

“Green isn’t exclusively a Corellian colour, so she could be Tythonian…”

The smuggler gave a snort. “Yeah, but they’re boring and tend to go for every shade of brown known.”

A grin tugged at the corner of Sorand’s lips. “Right. So maybe give Cantarus a call, see if he can track down which Jedi have left Coronet City in the last couple of years,” he added. “ I mean, Mum… didn’t have a sister, right?”

“Not as far as she or Dad knew. Maybe someone cloned her?”

“A clone would probably have her freckles and the right eye colour.”

“Bah, details.” Korin shrugged one shoulder, trying to act unperturbed about the whole thing, even if he felt a chill up and down his spine. If Sorand was this spooked by the mysterious Jedi lookalike of their mother, it was serious. Worse, Korin could feel the Force tugging at him, as though demanding his attention regarding the Jedi. He knew that tug meant this was significant — and hells, how he hated feeling it. Sometimes being Force-sensitive just wasn’t worth the headache and paranoia. “I’ll snoop around, see what I can dig up.”

Sorand nodded. “When Dad gets here, I’ll try to figure out how to ask him if he’s sure Mum didn’t have a sister. Maybe he knows something… or he’ll have the heart attack I’m still having myself.”

“Hey, I’m the one who gets to make Dad have a heart attack, not a creepy lookalike of Mum.”

“I’m pretty sure I can out-heart-attack-potential you any day, my miscreant asshole brother. Sith and dumbass Sith things, remember?”

“I’ve got no less than six and a half people who want my head on a plate!”

“How the hells did you get the half person in there?”

“Carefully.”

“Dumbass. You’re going to make Dad have a stroke from you being a moron, while I have the entire bloody Empire gunning for me right now!” Sorand paused. “Wait, no, Xaja’s going to be the one to make Dad have the heart attack with the entire galaxy looking for her.” If she’s still alive went unsaid.

“Yeah, Xaja wins, I think. First and last time you’ll hear me say that about a Jedi.” Korin stepped back and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “Lemme track down Vector and see what he knows.”

“Works for me.” Sorand turned, craning his neck to look around. “I need to find Lana and see what--”

“Hey, Sor’ika?” Corey called, earning both brothers’ attention. When Korin looked over, he could see the Mandalorian intently looking at a computer screen. “I think you’re gonna want to check this out...”

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The Aegis rapidly descended through Alderaan’s atmosphere, the crew setting the cruiser down in a valley between two snow-capped mountains. A kilometre or so from the official boundary of the Organa lands, it was situated in an out-of-the-way location that didn’t receive too much attention from Zakuul — indeed, it was almost impossible to access via the main roads.

But Commander Malcom’s crew had no need for the roads. There was a hidden entrance to the killik warrens running under Alderaan’s mountains. The rebels utilized the caverns and winding paths to stay out of sight. Malcom hoped it would now serve to protect the two most hunted fugitives in the galaxy from those seeking their heads.

A security cam discreetly placed in a rock formation focused in on the faces of the disembarking refugees. As the programmed algorithms recognized the features of Xaja Taerich, arguably the most wanted person in the galaxy, an alert triggered deep within the warrens, notifying the resistance of the newcomers.

Corey Black, the nearest person to the computer console when the alert flickered to life, frowned down at the monitor for only a second as recognition kicked in, both of the Jedi woman and some of her travel companions. “Hey, Sor’ika?” he called out, a grin starting to spread across his bearded face. “I think you’re gonna want to check this out…”

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The group of Dantooine survivors entered the cool darkness of the killik tunnels, looking around with no small amount of suspicion. Xaja wrinkled her nose at the scent of damp earth and the lingering traces of the killik pheromones. “When you said you were getting us underground, Commander, I didn’t realize you meant literally.”

Malcom smirked, the expression eerily like Theron. “Not many people do. We’re reasonably sure the Zakuulans expect some form of resistance down here, but so far they haven’t found us. The killiks do a good job in scaring them off.”

“I can’t say I blame ‘em,” Kira muttered as she followed a step behind Xaja, looking around warily. “At least it’s better than the last time we were in a hive. Nothing’s trying to kill us... yet.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Theron answered quietly. For perhaps a couple hundred metres, the group moved in near-silence, until the spy spoke again. “You sure this is the right cave? It seems suspiciously empty.”

“If it wasn’t, we would have already been swarmed by killiks,” Jorgan piped up from a few paces back. “But there should be some sign of life by now.”

Worry settled into Xaja’s chest as she heard Malcom’s mutter of “There hasn’t been any news of an attack here” as the old soldier warily looked around. If the Zakuulans were already in the caves, waiting in ambush to take out the Dantooine survivors… they had no place else to flee to, and wouldn’t be able to escape. And there wouldn’t be a miraculous rescue from Havoc Squad to save their—

She froze, making Kira bump into her back. The sound of running footsteps echoed ahead; when she focused, she could hear more than one pair of feet. “Someone’s coming,” she hissed, sensing the rest of the group around her freeze as the other Jedi warily reached for lightsabers. Jorgan raised a hand, making one quick gesture, and his soldiers spread into formation as Malcom stepped back closer to the Jedi protectively, blaster in hand—

“Riggs, you son of a bitch!” came the yell from down the tunnel, a welcome voice that made Xaja sag in relief. Corso stepped out to the side of the formation, a delighted grin on his face. Moments later, Korin came flying around a bend in the tunnel, his own grin flickering as he registered a pack of armed soldiers and Jedi bracing themselves for a fight. “Whatever it was, I didn’t do it. Probably,” he quipped, coming to a stop and raising his hands placatingly.

“Bantha shit, Captain,” Corso promptly retorted with a laugh as Xaja darted around him, running the few paces to her brother. She had a second with which to sense Korin’s sheer relief under the veneer of carefree laughter, and then she was being tightly hugged by the tall spacer — a form of affection he didn’t go for too often. He must have been legitimately mourning her presumed death, or terrified for her safety.

As other members of the Alderaanian cell started hurrying around the corner after Korin, earning a chorus of delighted shouting and reunion between friends and comrades, the smuggler finally set his sister down. Real worry sparked briefly in his hazel eyes. “You okay?” he asked, squeezing her shoulders. “Sorand mentioned you’d been sick as hell, but…”

“Better now. Happy to still be in one piece.” Xaja smiled up at her brother, concern darkening her own mood for a moment. Hells, even Korin looked older — she swore she could see grey in his blond hair. “You been okay? Dad didn’t have any new updates on you last time I saw him.”

“I’m fine, all things considered. Hells, my favourite zombie sister’s back with us, so I’m doing great—”

“Zombie?” Xaja gifted her brother with a scowl as he grinned unapologetically. “Zombie? Listen, you asshole --”

“Last I checked, you’re still legally dead, and you know as well as I do that the walking dead are technically zombies.” Korin laughed and dodged a swat from the Jedi. “And since you’re clearly not a ghost, that only leaves zombies as our undead option.”

“I’m pretty sure you can’t put a bounty on a legally dead person, you twit,” Xaja muttered with a scowl. “My status seems to have been rescinded.”

“Bah. Details. You’re still my favourite undead sister—” The smuggler ducked out of reach again with another laugh, only to trip and fall backwards over an outstretched boot.

“If you get stabbed, that’ll be your own damned fault,” Sorand interjected with a grin as he looked down at his brother. Ignoring Korin’s scowl up at him, the Sith hurried to give Xaja a hug. “I’m glad to see you in one piece, Xaj.”

“You, too.” Xaja returned the hug, for a second aware of Malcom side-eyeing them before looking back at her brother. “When I heard there was a hit out for you…”

“Acina’s going to have to do a lot better to take me down,” Sorand smirked. Worry flashed through his dark eyes as he lowered his voice. “How did things go?” he asked.

“Uhh… partially good?” At Sorand’s frown, Xaja shook her head. “I’ll explain later.” Catching him up on the details of the parasite in her brain was not something to do with so many listening ears around.

Sorand nodded in understanding, squeezing her shoulders before letting go. His gaze drifted over to Ashara; Xaja watched him hurry over to his apprentice before she turned at Kira’s delighted cry. Recognizing Doc and Rusk as they hurried up to the group, an excited Tee-Seven beeping in tow, she ran over to her old crew, feeling like the team was almost complete.

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Theron felt a weight lift from his shoulders as he watched the Alderaan rebels gladly embrace the Dantooine survivors. For the first time since fleeing Zakuul with Xaja, he felt reasonably safe… in the middle of a killik hive. Still, this was stable and out of Zakuul’s grip, for the moment. Sorand being here in one piece indicated that this location was also safe from the Empire; it would also help that the Organas weren’t fond of Saresh and could help keep her agents from finding the rebels. He lowly sighed and relaxed, the tension in his back easing.

Then he made eye contact with an approaching Korin Taerich, and had perhaps half a second to think shit before the smuggler’s fist connected with his jaw and knocked him down. “You fucking asshole!” Korin growled, his earlier joy at seeing his sister alive turning into a well-justified anger at his apparently-former friend.

Theron grunted as he gingerly ran his tongue over his teeth, pleasantly surprised to realize none had broken loose from that punch. “Brave words coming from the guy who punched a guy who got shot three days ago,” he muttered. His shoulder flared with pain as he gingerly shifted it. At least the bandages didn’t seem to have come undone.

Korin faltered for a second, brow wrinkling in confusion. “The fuck you mean you got shot?”

“Bunch of Zaks who really wanted to chat up your sister,” Theron retorted as he tugged his shirt to the side, revealing the bandages. “Asshat.”

“You still had that coming,” Korin snapped, dark eyes flickering with anger. But at least he apparently felt bad enough about hitting the wounded spy to offer a hand back up.

“Yeah, I know.” Theron grunted as he accepted the hand back to his feet, lowly hissing in discomfort. “Would saying ‘sorry’ make it a little better?”

Korin’s eyes narrowed in threatening anger. “Not in that kriffin’ tone of voice it—”

“No, I’m legitimately sorry,” Theron quickly interjected as he saw Korin’s fist tightening again. “You’re right. I’m an idiot and deserved that punch.”

“You think?! You’re making me look like a certifiable genius, Shan.”

“You are a certifiable genius. I’ve seen your aptitude tests, Taerich.”

“Shh!” Korin furtively looked around. “Don’t go ratting me out! I’m tryin’ to dodge responsibility, not adopt it!”

Theron rolled his eyes, then caught Korin’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth I am actually sorry, Korin. I was an idiot. It won’t happen again.”

“It’d better not,” Korin muttered. The fury seemed to have finally cooled down from the fiery temper to a low simmer under the surface. The smuggler shook his head, then frowned at Theron’s shoulder. “Sorry about the punch. Your shoulder more buggered up now?”

“Whose shoulder’s what now?” Sorand interjected as he appeared on Theron’s left. The Sith frowned at the spy, already reaching for the wounded shoulder. “The hell did you do?”

“Target practice, gone really badly,” Theron deadpanned, and earned a snort from the Sith. Feeling a prickle on the back of his neck, he turned his head slightly, just enough to see Jace frowning at Sorand. Right… his father wouldn’t trust a Sith, even one who had abandoned the Empire for his Jedi sister.

“I suggest thinking of a better story before Lana hears it and laughs at you for the rest of your respective natural lives.” Sorand smirked as he settled his hand on the blaster wound. “Hold tight for a minute.” A violet glow appeared around his gloved fingers; Theron shivered as he felt a cold trickle seep into his shoulder, knitting the injured muscles and tendons back together. Dark Side healing was never a completely comfortable experience, despite Sorand’s efforts to be gentle; but, when the Sith withdrew his hand and Theron rotated his shoulder experimentally, the wound was completely healed.

“Good as new,” Theron pronounced when he didn’t feel pain flaring in the joint, and gave Sorand a grin. “Thanks.” The Sith had even healed the bruising Theron could feel forming on his jaw from Korin’s punch.

“Don’t mention it. Force knows you’ve been through enough without having a kriffed-up arm on top of everything else.” Sorand stepped back, gesturing for Theron and Korin to follow him. If he was aware of Jace staring at the back of his head, mistrust showing in his dark eyes, the Sith didn’t reveal it. “I know you’re probably tired enough to see double, but we’re going to need to catch up on all the osik following you since you got off of Dromund Kaas. You lot good for a quick debrief?”

“As long as it’s relatively quick,” Theron agreed. Craning his neck, he caught a glimpse of Xaja, still surrounded by her closest friends, excitedly chatting away. At least she hadn’t witnessed her brother sucker-punching him like that — that would have been much harder to explain to her. Nervous dread settled in his stomach before he shoved it down to where he hoped she couldn’t sense it. “You said Lana’s here?”

“Yes, and you’d best hope she doesn’t feel inclined to make like Korin with the punching — which, by the way, I’m perfectly fine not knowing the reasons for.” Sorand grinned and stepped toward the tunnel. “Come on.”

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Jace had never been sure how to take the news that a Jedi war hero, and his son, both had non-hostile connections with powerful Sith Lords. With the Revanite crisis, he supposed it was reasonable for Republic and Imperial assets to cooperate. But the extended communication and open friendly behaviour made him frown.

He watched suspiciously as Darth Imperius caught Master Xaja up in a tight hug, both siblings clearly happy to see each other. Now that they were beside each other, he could see the resemblance between the two, far too similar to be mere coincidence. The Hero of Tython had one brother recently on the Dark Council, and one brother who was a proud career criminal and privateer -- not to mention their father.

He frowned, caught up enough in his thoughts that he missed Theron getting punched, still focused on Imperius. Sith weren’t exactly known for being affectionate or protective of their families, much less family members who came from enemy space, yet Imperius had risked his own safety to hide both his sister and a known enemy spy on Dromund Kaas. Had she known who he was sheltering, Jace suspected Empress Acina would have killed the younger Sith. So perhaps despite being a Sith, the boy — and how did a boy who looked like he was barely into his twenties make it to the Dark Council? — wasn’t a bad sort. He certainly wasn’t as shrivelled as Darth Malgus, nor did he carry himself in the same way. The eyes that darted around were dark brown and openly relieved, not tainted with sulphuric rage. Jace even dared to say the Sith was happy.

But surely the son of Cipher Nine had learned to hide his true motivations. The former Supreme Commander of Republic Forces pursed his lips, frowning. Master Xaja had also been fathered by the infamous Imperial spook, but she had been raised among Jedi; Jace figured that didn’t count, as she hadn’t grown up around her father’s influence. How much had the legendary cipher agent taught his sons?

“He’s not Malgus.” Satele’s voice by his right shoulder made him start. He looked down and got a raised eyebrow in turn. “Sith he may be, but he’s not steeped in the dark side like too many others. He’s actually far more like his sister than you might think.” She paused, giving Master Xaja a look as the redhead knelt to give an old astromech droid a hug, the droid beeping loudly and happily enough to be heard a few metres away. “Arguably, he could claim to be the more Jedi-like of the two.”

Jace snorted. “A Dark Lord of the Sith and a Dark Councillor, more Jedi-like than a hero of the Order?”

“He wasn’t the one who yelled a few interesting curses at Revan on Yavin, or told a mercenary where to go and how to get there. He’s far less hot-headed than his sister is.” Satele smiled slightly. “It’s unfortunate he wound up on Korriban; he would have done very well as a Jedi.”

“Hmm.” Unconvinced, Jace watched as a blonde woman hurried to the reunion throng in the tunnel, frowning at her sulphuric yellow eyes. His gaze darted toward the lightsaber on her hip, noting the metallic fins and blackened metal -- a very Sith style. Master Xaja didn’t seem to mind that, or the Mandalorian bounty hunter behind the Sith — she shot back to her feet and hurried to give the blonde a hug, one that was gladly returned. Lana Beniko was a known Imperial asset, and the SIS’s records indicated she was Imperius’ top advisor. “Blast, they’re still Sith, Satele. You know what they’re capable of.”

“Yes. And I believe Imperius would unleash it to protect his siblings… not unlike you might protecting us, the Republic.” Her hand tightened on his arm. “It doesn’t make him a bad person, Jace.” They watched as Theron turned from talking to Imperius and Captain Taerich, an open smile on his face as he went to greet Beniko. His arm was moving much more freely, Jace noticed, like it was no longer damaged. “I have never had cause to be worried around him. And he did protect Theron along with his sister.”

To what end? Jace wondered as he watched the reunions: Master Xaja was animatedly talking to Beniko, Theron standing at her side and interjecting commentary before turning to greet a newcomer with dark hair and a brown coat. Imperius had turned to speak to a Mandalorian woman in green armour -- the Champion of the Great Hunt, Shara Verhayc, Jace recognized -- while his smuggler brother slipped out of the crowd and neatly disappeared. No matter that Satele didn’t consider Imperius or his right-hand to be threats, no matter that Theron greeted the Sith like friends — Jace couldn’t bring himself to feel at ease around them.

And this was before bringing Cipher Nine into the mix, he thought. He frowned. Nothing involving the Empire’s top spy could ever end well.

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As the crowds beganto disperse toward the main sections of the hive, reunions still ongoing, Korin slipped away to send a message to his father. The old spy was probably in hyperspace, but if the Shadow ever dropped back into realspace for course corrections, he would hopefully see the message before having a worry-induced heart attack. The smuggler sighed — his father picked the most inconvenient times to be radio silent.

“What’s this? You, dodging out of the closest thing to a party we’ve seen in years?” A familiar -- and very welcome -- voice to his left startled him. Looking over, he saw Kira leaning against a stalagmite and smirking at him. “Who are you and what have you done with Korin Taerich?”

“It ain’t a party til the booze and strippers are out,” Korin retorted with a grin as he slipped his datapad back into his pocket, the message to his father half-written. “You remember Rishi.”

Kira grinned as Korin stepped up to her, resting his forearm on the stalagmite over her head. “Vividly. Those were some good times with the crazy cultists.” She straightened enough to slip her arms around Korin’s neck. “So what’s this I hear about the dumb spacer thing being an act and you leading a proper strike team?”

“I call shenanigans. I still dunno how I got roped into that,” Korin muttered as Kira laughed. The smuggler grinned as his other hand came to rest on the Jedi’s waist. “You missed seein’ some of my best shootin’, Jedi.”

One auburn eyebrow raised. “So if that was your best shooting, what’ve you been showing me the last year and a half?” Bright blue eyes pointedly glanced up and down, suggestive amusement pulling her lips into a grin.

“I said some of my best shootin’. You get the special showin’, Carsen.”

“Do I?” Kira’s eyes danced with pleased mischief, as her fingers started lightly tickling the back of his neck. “I’m not convinced, Captain. You got some persuading to do.”

“Challenge accepted,” Korin retorted with a smirk as he leaned in to kiss her. “Real talk though,” he murmured, sobering for a moment, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too.” For a brief moment, lingering grief and fear flickered through Kira’s Force-signature before she withdrew to where Korin couldn’t sense her emotions. She covered her brief slip with a smirk. “Your life would’ve gotten a lot less interesting without us in it.”

“And a lot less fun without you in particular,” Korin murmured as he pulled her into a side tunnel and kissed her again.

For a second, he thought about the message sitting half-written on his datapad, and almost pulled himself away to finish sending it. But then Kira’s hand had slipped down, nimble fingers finding his belt buckle, and he quickly decided it could wait. Chances were the old man was already in hyperspace. He would just finish the message later… much, much later.

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Oh, stars, she looked just like her mother. Mairen watched as the group of evacuees from Dantooine and their Havoc Squad saviours scattered within the resistance base — some people heading for the medics, some to meet friends, and still others to just go and crash from post-trauma exhaustion.

But she wasn’t watching the refugees. She was watching the red-haired Jedi woman walking toward the command centre with Lord Beniko and Captain Vortena, animatedly talking to the Sith. Even if the girl’s face hadn’t been broadcasted around the entire galaxy for the last month, along with the face of the tall, handsome spy beside her, Mairen would have recognized her.

She remained still as the group walked past her, able to observe without being recognized. Agent Shan, she noticed, seemed to be more alert, looking about with a slightly paranoid look; his gaze landed on Mairen for a moment before moving on, apparently taking her to be only a curious onlooker. Airna’s daughter glanced at her for barely a second before her attention turned back to Lord Beniko. Mairen had known that her cousin’s daughter wouldn’t recognize her, not like her brother had — she had never met her own mother. But that didn’t quite stop the slight ache in her heart.

At first glance, the pretty redhead didn’t seem to take after her father much at all. She had her mother’s hair and eyes, her mother’s slim build, and the same graceful stride. And the laugh that came from her at some quip Lord Beniko made was an eerie echo of Airna. Even her reputed sharp temper and fondness for creative insults came from her mother. And you went after a spy, too, she thought, shaking her head. Truly your mother’s daughter. At least Agent Shan was a Republic agent, and not in the service of the Empire.

It was like Mairen was watching her cousin again, before she had left Corellia with Taerich. She wanted to go to the girl, see how much of Airna lived on in her — but the younger Jedi wouldn’t know who she was. And she had just survived one terrible ordeal after another. And your journey isn’t done yet, Mairen thought as she watched her cousin’s daughter walk up a ramp to one of the command platforms, Agent Shan never far from her. With any luck, there would be time later to meet Xaja Taerich properly. The Jedi Shadow could only hope that the only thing she had inherited from her father was his surname.

#drastic measures #look! I haven't forgotten this yet! #KOTFE AU #SWTOR #Theron/Xaja #reunion time! #Xaja finally caught up to her brothers again #Suspicious Jace is suspicious #now we know where Theron gets the trust issues from #meanwhile on Coruscant #more family drama inbound! #this story is never going to end I stg #and look! Korin/Kira!

[keldae]

31. "You haven't lost me" for the Angst/Fluff prompt

Oh, look at me answering prompts months after the fact!

Xaja blinked as she started awake, staring into the dim lighting of the bedroom and frowning in confusion. She wasn’t sure precisely what time it was, but it had to be stupidly early on Odessen, far earlier than she liked to be awake. The hells had –

A stifled gasp came from the other side of the bed, earning Xaja’s full attention. Frowning, she rolled over, only to see Theron’s face twisted in a pained grimace. “Theron?” she whispered, carefully touching his shoulder.

The spy didn’t respond to her touch or whisper, too lost in his dreams to notice her. No, not dreams, Xaja realized as Theron turned his head with another groan – a nightmare. “No…”

“Theron, it’s okay.” Xaja gently shook his shoulder, mindful to not jostle him too much with his still-healing abdominal wound. “You’re okay, love. Wake up.” She leaned in to brush a kiss over his sweat-dampened forehead, and frowned when he didn’t react to her touch. “Theron?”

“Please…” Theron begged whoever was in his nightmare. Xaja felt her heart break at his next words. “Not her, please…”

“Theron!” Sitting fully upright, Xaja shook his shoulder as hard as she dared with his wound, her own fear starting to rear its head. “Please wake up. It’s okay, we’re safe. I’m here, Theron. I’m right here–”

Theron’s eyes snapped open, terror filling his hazel gaze. A strangled cry escaped him as he tried to lunge upward despite Xaja’s hand on his shoulder; a different cry escaped him as his wound made itself known again, making him curl up as best he could. Agony mingled with the fear in his unseeing gaze as he stared at monsters only visible to him. “Xaja, no!”

“I’m here, Theron.” Xaja rested her hand against his cheek, cradling his face as her other hand rubbed his shoulder. “I’m here, love. We’re okay. You’re safe, you’re safe…” She kept talking to him as she finally started to see awareness in his eyes, finally sensed the nightmare loosening its hold on him. “That’s it, love. You’re okay. We’re on Odessen, and we’re both okay. You’re safe with me, sweetheart.”

Theron’s hand finally raised to grab her wrist as his eyes sought out her own, the panic finally lessening. “Xaja?” he whispered, as though he couldn’t quite believe that she was there.

“Yes, it’s me.” Xaja leaned down to kiss Theron’s forehead, feeling his other hand reach up to touch her hair, then her cheek. “I’m right here, Theron, and I’m not going anywhere. You were having a nightma–”

She yelped as Theron suddenly grabbed her, pulling her close enough to him that she could feel the bandages around his stomach pressing into her own skin. He buried his face in her shoulder; she could feel him shaking. “They had you,” he whispered. “They were… stars, I couldn’t…”

“Shhh.” Xaja raked her fingers through the lines of hair growing back over Theron’s scalp. “You haven’t lost me, Theron. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.” She kissed his hair again as she settled back down in the pillows, soothingly stroking Theron’s ragged hair and kissing him until she felt him calm down again. “It’s okay. We’re both okay.”

Theron finally took a shaky breath, microscopically loosening his tight grip on Xaja. “Sorry,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes. Xaja felt her heart shatter again when she saw the haunted look in his gaze. “For… for waking you up.”

“It’s okay,” Xaja murmured as she gently kissed his lips. “Better me waking up than you stuck in that nightmare.” She felt Theron hesitantly nod, and stayed quiet for another minute, brushing her fingers over his stubble-clad cheeks and feeling his breathing synchronize with hers at last. “Do you need another dose of the pain meds?” she finally asked.

Theron quickly shook his head, despite the pain flaring in the Force around him. “Not the meds,” he quickly said before hesitating; fear coloured the Force again. “I… I can’t wake up,” he quietly confessed, his voice almost inaudible. “I can’t…”

“Oh, Theron,” Xaja whispered, her heart twisting at his openly fearful expression. Whatever demons he had faced in his nightmare, the monsters he had encountered in the Order of Zildrog, they had to rival her worst dreams of Valkorion to scare him that badly. “C’mere.” She drew Theron back down to snuggle, guiding his head to rest over her chest where he could hear her heartbeat. Her hand reached down to just touch the bandages; Xaja stifled a hiss as she drew on the Force, transferring some of Theron’s pain to herself. Hells, she had hoped to never feel this type of pain again, even if second-hand; but it wasn’t like they had more options.

He frowned, looking up at her as he felt her tense instinctively. “Xaja, what are you–?”

“It’s okay.” Xaja managed a smile for Theron as she kissed his forehead. “Nothing I can’t handle.” Stars knew she was considered one of the experts on being stabbed with lightsabers and surviving to tell the tale. She stroked her fingers soothingly through Theron’s hair, just along his temples like she knew he loved. “Sleep, Theron.”

“But…” Theron frowned, fighting off the drowsiness that already threatened to take him over again. “You can’t… not for…” His grip on her tightened. “I don’t wanna lose you…”

“You’re not going to lose me.” With an effort, Xaja drew more of the pain into herself. Her discomfort was well worth seeing Theron’s face visibly relax as the tension in his body eased. “I’m going to be right here when you wake up, love. I promise.” She kissed his hair again as his eyes closed; he snuggled into her chest, his breathing finally steadying in the slow currents of sleep. Xaja didn’t dare move until she saw the lines in his forehead vanish, his mouth slightly falling open, his Force-signature relaxed and calm. 

Yet she remained awake for the rest of the night, guarding him from the pain and the demons he had picked up during his months undercover. 

#thanks for the ask! #Theron/Xaja #angst #post-traitor arc #angstfest! #nightmare #nighttime cuddles #snuggle away the pain #or at least Xaja's doing her damned best to do so #PTSD #night terrors #protective wife instincts #otp: until the stars burn out #elveny

[keldae]

Drastic Measures (Chapter Twenty-Three)

Lightsabers igniting around him, Corso Riggs ducked into the back of the chamber and scrambled his comm link. Kriffin’ hoped I’d never have to use this, he silently complained as he tapped in a particular sequence. There was a slight tremor to his touch, movements hurried. Designed to alert the network of an attack and request assistance, he had only used the alert code once before -- a test run on Thunder’s orders. Balmorra’s resistance cell managed to scatter and escape the Zakuulans before they needed to sound the alarm. Dantooine was not going to be so lucky.

“Hope someone nearby’s listening,” Corso muttered with a final tap to the comm. Shoving the unit back onto his belt, he pushed to his feet and hefted his blaster rifle. As he held the stock against his shoulder, he listened for the sounds of approaching enemy forces, one eye trained down his scope. “Sounds like we’ve got our work cut out for us, Torchy.”

Across the galaxy, the alert message had its desired effect as the signal rippled through the network. Each knew the day would come when it was needed, but the reality of it seemed surreal, especially coming as it had from Dantooine. No one expected the Enclave to be the first target on the Zakuulan radar. But then, no one expected Master Taerich to be alive, much less hiding there, either.

While the news was startling to Cole Cantarus and the Corellian cell, it was on Nar Shaddaa, Alderaan, and Tatooine that the alert provoked the most response.  

Kaliyo grumbled as she dropped the new scope she was attaching to her modified blaster rifle, scowling as she reached for the offending comm link. Blast, if whoever was contacting her right now didn’t have awful timing!

Her frustration turned to something approaching concern when she read the message. “Shit,” she whispered as she set her weapons to the side and lunged to her feet, running to find the old man. Cipher Nine needed to know this. “Agent!” she yelled, taking a corner at a run and nearly running right into her target. “Dantooine’s getting attacked, Agent.”

She couldn’t remember seeing Reanden Taerich ever going that shade of white before today.

Doc frowned as an alert started coming through on Vector’s computer console. “What’s that?” he asked, leaning over the Joiner’s shoulder to see.

“What is—” Vector frowned as he opened the alert. “It’s the Storm system. It’s an emergency warning code, coming from…” The Joiner paled and started frantically typing into the console. “Oh no. Oh, no.”

“What is it?” The Jedi who’d remained behind, Master Bel Iblis, stopped behind Vector and frowned at the anxiety she could sense. A few dozen metres away, Doc could hear the clicking of disturbed Killiks picking up on Vector’s anxiety. “Ambassador, what—”

“Dantooine’s under attack,” Vector hurriedly answered as he kept typing. “We need to warn Commander Malcom. Get Doctor Lokin and Doctor Oggurobb — we require assistance reaching Havoc’s comms while they're in hyperspace!”

Watching as Bel Iblis rushed off toward the resident scientists, Doc staggered back a step, fear lurching into his throat. Xaja was in danger -- again. Kriff, I hope that cure worked enough for you to fight, Red…

On Tatooine, it was Torian who delivered the news. Sorand -- Thunder, himself -- looked up sharply when he heard the Mandalorian’s shout echoing through the underground caves. He rose to his feet as Torian rushed into the command cavern. Alarm rippled through the Force from the blond-haired man, strongly enough to make Lana hurry in a second later, Corey right behind her. “What’s wrong, burc'ya?” the Sith asked as he started walking down toward the hunter, Korin right behind him.

“Dantooine…” Torian gasped as he shoved the datapad at Sorand. If he noted the Sith’s hands shake ever so slightly, he said nothing. “The Enclave’s under attack.”

All sound ceased in the cave as the resistance members struggled to process the news. Sorand looked down at the datapad, then at a rapidly-paling Korin, then back at Torian, feeling his face drain of colour. In an instant, however, his leadership mask fell into place. “Do your best to stay in contact with Corso; get any intel you can from him.” He whirled, looking to the former head of Sith Intelligence. “Lana, can you get in contact with the other cells and coordinate with their leaders?”

“I’m already on it.” The blonde Sith pulled her datapad out and began typing. Gloved fingers moved briskly across the surface, even as she spoke. “Your sister and Theron aren’t allowed to die before I’ve had a chance to tear them both a new one for sheer idiocy.”

“There ain’t a hope in hell that anyone’s gonna reach ‘em in time, Sith,” Andronikos spoke up. He was unusually sombre as he rested a hand on Sorand’s shoulder. “I know it’s your sister, but the only thing anyone’s gonna be able to do once they get there is scare off the vultures.”

“We have to try,” Sorand whispered, his fingers clutching onto the datapad hard enough to turn his knuckles white beneath his gloves. “We’re either saving them or avenging them.”

It was a hard toss-up, Theron thought, as to what was more terrible: the sounds of an orbital bombardment pummelling the ground overhead, or the sudden eruption of blaster fire and mechanical warcries of Skytroopers as the Zakuulans swarmed into the caves. Drawing his blasters in the same motion as he got to his feet, Theron fired as the hum of igniting lightsabers filled the cavern around him. Two of the blades were immediately extinguished as the Jedi holding them fell to the Skytroopers’ blaster fire.

He glanced over to the side, just seeing Corso fall back to frantically type a code into his comm link — probably a distress call to the Storm system. “Any odds we can get out of these caves and lose them?” he called over.

“Not likely,” Guss called back, guarding Corso with a lightsaber held in shaking hands. “Not unless we can get through the active kinrath tunnels…”

“Those are almost worse than the Zaks are,” interjected a raven-haired Jedi with striking violet makeup.

A particularly loud explosion rippled through the cave -- loud enough to temporarily drown out the sounds of battle. “And I think those were our emergency shuttles,” muttered Ashara, looking in the direction of the explosion.

“Great,” Theron muttered as he shot down another Skytrooper. They must have tracked us from Voss, he mused. The old man must not have been as good a distraction as he thought. If the explosion had been the destruction of the evac shuttles, then the ship they arrived on, the Corellian corvette belonging to his mother, might be their only way off world… provided that hadn’t been found and blasted apart as well. That, however, depended on them getting out of the caves. And right now, that didn’t look likely.

He had to give them credit: the Jedi were putting up an impressive defence. Satele had rallied the Jedi around her to form a wall of spinning blades, guarding the rebels who had already fallen and were out of the fight. How well could — Theron did a quick headcount — fifty-odd assorted Force-users hold off what looked like a full platoon of Skytroopers,  human Zakuulan soldiers, and, to his dismay, the incoming flood of Zakuulan knights?

Then he saw a blur of green and blue as two human women jumped into the fray. The taller Jedi wielded a bright green saberstaff, the shorter bearing two vivid blue twin lightsabers. His heart leapt into his throat when he got a feel of Xaja’s mental state — steely, stubborn determination, and a fierce combative streak that no Jedi training could tame fully. A week ago you could barely function! he silently protested, nanoseconds before he felt the hair on his neck stand on end and dodged to the left, a blaster bolt thudding into the stone wall behind him.

But apparently two years in carbonite and a month of being dangerously ill hadn’t diminished Xaja’s combat abilities. Theron wasn’t sure if it was the effect of fighting beside Kira again for the first time in so long, or if her reconnection to the Force had brought back the muscle memory of ‘saber duelling. Whatever it was, it was like he was watching her fly into battle on Rishi again, or Manaan, or Ziost, or Yavin IV. She handled herself like a dancer, fluid and graceful, yet deadly quick with her blades and too acrobatic with the fast-paced Ataru form to be easily hit by the Zakuulans. The Jedi Battlemaster, Hero of Tython, and Bane of Technically-One-And-A-Half Emperors was back in her element, a perfectly seamless unit beside her former Padawan.

The shouts from the Zakuulans rose in volume as the hated ‘assassin’ was recognized, fire focusing on her. One of the Knights lunged at Xaja, polesaber striking from above; the Jedi nimbly avoided the blow in a maneuver that made Theron’s back ache in sympathy. She then launched into a counter-attacked against the Zakuulan, switching to what Theron was pretty sure was the Juyo form of aggression —

“The terrorist! Take him!”

Shit. Theron dodged backwards as another Knight swooped in for the attack, just barely getting out of the way of the plasma blade. He wasn’t sure if there were orders for him and Xaja to be brought in alive, and he really didn’t want to find out firsthand. He fired a series of rapid shots at the Knight, forcing the Zakuulan on the defensive as a red-haired Miraluka woman darted in to help with the fight. Finding himself back to back with Corso, he unleashed another storm of bolts into the Zakuulans as the Mantellian shot down another Skytrooper with a challenging yell. “Any luck from the system?” he shouted over the sounds of the fight.

“If the signal got out. I’m kriffin’ hopin’ so.” Corso swore, using some expletives that Theron was pretty sure he picked up from Korin. “Be a good time for some gorram grenades right about now!”

“You’re not wrong.” Theron ducked another Skytrooper shot. For an instant, he allowed himself to wonder if his bond with Xaja was letting him leech off her Force-sensitivity, giving him Jedi instincts. “If the signal did get through, how long do you think it’ll take for Thunder to get help out?”

“Unless someone’s already on their way for other reasons?” Corso’s brow creased worriedly. “Dunno if anyone’ll get here in time.”

This time it was Theron who swore out loud. It was unclear as to whether it was from Corso’s grim words; from another Zakuulan Knight charging at him, only intercepted at the last second by his mother; or from Xaja catching an unlucky kick to her leg. He watched as she crumpled with a yelp. Kira dove in to cover her.

A warning prickled against Theron’s awareness, but he didn’t recognize it in time to do more than turn his upper body slightly. The blaster bolt that would have taken him in the chest instead slammed into his shoulder, making him stagger backward with a strangled cry. He heard an alarmed shout of “Theron!” before a slender, yet surprisingly strong hand grabbed his arm and dragged him out of immediate danger -- his mother’s hand.

The former Grand Master adjusted her grip on her saber-staff to provide something of a shield, reaching for Theron’s injured shoulder with her free hand. “It’s not lethal,” she murmured, inspecting the wound. “It looks like it should be easily treatable if —”

The caverns shook with the echoes of another explosion, and Theron looked away from his burning injury to exchange a look with his mother. “I don’t think that’s going to be a concern,” he quietly said. “Not unless you think the Force can work a miracle.”

Satele offered him a small, sad smile as she moved her hand up to gently touch his cheek, with a soft touch that Theron wouldn’t have ever expected to come from her. “Theron, whatever happens down here…” She hesitated, taking a breath to steady herself and blinking in the dim light. “I’m proud of you. I have always been a very proud mother, and I wish I had told you long ago.”

Those were words that Theron had never expected to hear from Satele Shan, not even during the few years under Master Zho’s care when he had actually been an idealistic child before he discovered cynicism. But it was something he would never admit he wanted to hear from her… no matter how desperately he did. “Thanks, Mom,” he whispered, and saw Satele’s eyes soften for possibly the first time that he could remember--

He sharply looked up as a Knight of Zakuul appeared over Satele’s right shoulder, polesaber raised to stab the Grand Master in the back while she was distracted. A sudden spike of protective fear lanced through Theron’s chest. He felt his blaster settle back in his hand and quickly raised his uninjured arm to fire at the Knight. The Zakuulan fell with a blaster bolt in the centre of his helmet, not having suspected the spy to have been able to shoot him down so quickly.

Satele whirled as the blaster discharged, eyes widening as she looked at first the Knight’s body, then back at Theron’s hand. “What was that?” she breathed out, sounding more startled than Theron could ever remember her being before. The spy looked down at the blaster in question, then felt his heart stop for a second. Hadn’t he dropped the weapon when he was shot? Then how had it returned to his hand…?

He looked up to meet his mother’s dumbstruck look, a second before he felt a prickle of warning and ducked another shot that would have grazed his ear. Giving her head a quick shake, Satele spun back to the battle, saber-staff lighting the air around her as she deflected more shots away from her son. Forcing himself to put away the thoughts of how his blaster had returned to his hand, Theron gritted his teeth around the pain from his shoulder and fired around his mother, taking out a Skytrooper with deadly accuracy. Chances were that he wasn’t going to survive long enough to puzzle out what had happened anyway. May as well use the opportunity to take down as many Zakuulans as he could before the resistance cell fell.

Arcann rested his chin on his metallic hand as he studied the intelligence in front of him regarding Taerich and Shan. From Rishi to Dromund Kaas to Voss to— he glanced at the latest update from Overwatch— Dantooine? You have been moving around quickly. From what he understood of the Core Worlds, the idea of a Jedi willingly going to Dromund Kaas was unthinkable, half due to the risks of being murdered by a Sith, and half to the negative impacts of the Dark Side on them. Taerich must truly have been desperate to flee there.

But then, she also had ulterior motivations to go there. Accessing the information on Darth Imperius once again, he compared the profile of the Sith to that of Xaja Taerich. Yes, he could now see the striking resemblance between them. Pulling up an image of Cipher Nine, he could then see the traits both children seemed to inherit from the illustrious spy. So she fled to her family, and brought her lover and her friend with her.

Empress Acina swore she knew nothing of Imperius’ loyalties, and had given orders for her fellow Dark Councillor to be hunted down. The Eternal Emperor was not keen on trusting the Sith’s words. She would need to be investigated.

So Cipher Nine had fathered Taerich and Imperius; risked his own safety to protect his daughter -- after selling her to the Jedi as a child. Arcann frowned, unable to wrap his head around that concept. If he, Thexan, or Vaylin had been in such straits, Valkorion would have simply abandoned them. Their mother, on the other hand, had always been sentimental, attempting to ‘rescue’ them multiple times. Cipher Nine must be weak to be swayed by his daughter. That must be it. Coddling was what mothers did, he thought, not fathers.

Still, rumours circulated wildly through his Imperial contacts of the agent’s prowess in handling even rogue Sith -- despite being Force-blind himself. Forced to protect his children, then, it was clear he had a skill set more than up to the task. Thus, weak though he might have been, the former Imperial spy remained a significant threat.

And while Xaja Taerich’s mother was confirmed to be long dead, she also had another brother, according to the files procured by Sith Intelligence: Korin Taerich, infamous Republic privateer and smuggler, who hadn’t been seen in months. Arcann frowned. Not knowing if the rogue captain was powerful with the Force like his siblings was a factor he wasn’t pleased with. Even if the captain had no connection to the Force -- which Arcann thought unlikely, given his Jedi mother and the power demonstrated by his two siblings -- there was a significant chance he had also inherited his father’s intelligence and ruthless characteristics. If he had half of Cipher Nine’s reputed intellect and vicious streak, he, too, could prove to be dangerous.

He sighed. It seemed the whole damned family, with concentrated effort, could possibly dismantle everything he had built, piece by piece. He couldn’t allow that to happen.   

Frowning, Arcann then accessed another report taken from the Republic’s intelligence services. Theron Shan’s face stared at him in holo form, alongside those of the former Supreme Commander Jace Malcom and former Grand Master Satele Shan. The bastard son of two Republic war heroes, the spy had become something of a hero in his own right. He had earned his own influence to wield, likely with Republic forces or intelligence services. If he was truly Force-blind as the reports claimed, perhaps, the Zakuulan emperor mused, that influence was what Taerich saw in him.

Best to take out both troublesome families now, he decided, before they grew to be problems. Unfortunately, Cipher Nine had vanished somewhere in the chaotic Hutta system, and Imperius had gone rogue, disappearing without a trace. Jace Malcom’s whereabouts were also uncertain… but Satele Shan -- she had been located. Even better, it was suspected that her son and Master Taerich were with her.

A slow grin crept across his features, only half-visible behind the mask. Even if she doesn’t have them, she’ll have information. And perhaps the terrorist will come out of hiding for his mother.

Settling back into the Eternal Throne, Arcann switched on the stream of data provided by  the Overwatch feeds. The Knight-Captain leading the attack force had reported finding a group of hidden Jedi rebels, likely under Master Shan’s leadership. Even if neither of the Shans was on Dantooine, there would be one fewer pocket of resistance in the galaxy by nightfall.

Zakuul’s flaw was pride.

The GEMINI captain looked down at the life sign readings from her ship’s crew. “I am fully assured of the Knight-Captain’s imminent victory, Overseer,” she addressed the holo figure of the Overwatch officer. “The Jedi cannot withstand an assault like this, or escape now that we have destroyed their shuttles.”

“We witness the last gasps of the Jedi resistance,” the overseer agreed, smugness in his tone even over the holo. “This will strike fear into the hearts of the rest of the galaxy’s would-be rebels. The assassin and terrorist will answer for their crimes.”

“I do hope the Republic assets do not believe in ritual suicide in the face of defeat,” GEMINI commented. “It would be a shame to not witness —”

The proximity alerts sounded. GEMINI turned her head to view the new alert coming through on her screens; if she could have frowned in confusion, she would have. “What the—?”

Cannon fire pummelled the side of the distracted ship, and one proud vessel of the Eternal Fleet went up in flames.

The forces of the Eternal Empire were well-trained and well-armed, and outnumbered the Republic or the Empire’s forces by an almost hilarious amount. But no army was completely flawless.

The incoming ship swooped low into Dantooine’s atmosphere, easily tracking the battle at the falling Jedi Enclave. The Knight-Captain leading the attack frowned when she heard the sound of a large ship’s engines bearing down on her location, knowing that she hadn’t given the command for her ship to reinforce her troops. She looked up, pale green eyes widening. She watched in shock as she and the troops still outside the cave entrances were mown down by cannon fire.

Even over the din of battle, the rumble of a ship’s engines descending over the roof of the hidden Enclave was entirely audible. Theron groaned, only partially from the pain in his shoulder, feeling Xaja’s awareness shift toward the sky. She could sense new lifeforms, and through her, Theron felt a sense of their bloodlust and adrenaline. The Zakuulans must have called in reinforcements to ensure the defeat of the resistance cell and the last Jedi rebels.

He shook his head as Xaja’s awareness overpowered his own; she was growing too tired to maintain a shield between herself and Theron, and he swore he could feel everything she did. The Skytroopers radiated no emotions, but the Zakuulan humans more than made up for the droids -- all Theron could feel from them was greedy excitement, pride, and the feeling of an imminent, assured victory. It was a stark contrast to the growing despair of the Jedi, faltering wills, exhaustion, and fear mingling with grim acceptance of what was to come.

Theron turned his head as Xaja suddenly sensed new lifeforms entering the caverns at a hurried run, rage and stubborn determination colouring the Force to red. The spy sighed, shifted to stand back-to-back with Corso as the younger mercenary kept firing at the Zakuulans with a challenging whoop. He raised his blaster with his good arm. “Good knowin’ you, Riggs,” he grunted as his finger tightened on the trigger, the bolt shooting out and slamming into a Zakuulan’s leg. The attacker dropped with a scream.

“You too, Shan.” Corso shifted against Theron’s back, his arm jerking slightly with the recoil of his rifle. “The cap’n’s gonna bring me back to life to kill me again for dyin’ out here like this.”

“Hells, the old man’s gonna do that to me for putting his daughter in danger.” Theron scowled. “I think he’d do it twice, too.” Corso snorted a wordless laugh that wasn’t disagreement with Theron’s grim prediction before shifting again, taking aim as the new lifeforms stormed into the cavern.

A new round of blaster fire joined the chorus of battle, rounds of plasma bolts tearing into the fray. Shouts arose from the chaos -- sounds of confusion and sudden, new uncertainty. When Theron focused along Xaja’s piggybacked senses, he was surprised to realize the new fear was coming from the Zakuulans as they were attacked from behind. “The resistance?” he asked, mostly to himself, as Corso turned to frown in bewilderment.

A deafening battle cry sounded as the newly-arriving soldiers fully moved into Theron’s line of sight. His jaw dropped when he recognized first the large number of decidedly-non-Zakuulan aliens in the newly-arriving force, and then recognized the sigils adorning their armour -- not to mention the unmistakable war droid in the ranks, gleefully firing at the Zakuulans. “Havoc Squad!” he shouted, and wasn’t sure if he was relieved to see his father’s old squad here, or worried at the possibility of Havoc still being loyal to Saresh.

Either way, the mood in the caves changed abruptly. Panic stirred in the Zakuulan ranks as the Jedi found renewed morale and pushed themselves forward for a final stand. Those uninjured joined ranks with Havoc’s front lines, and what looked like an extra squad or two of Republic soldiers; the rest started to fall back to Satele’s rallying point behind the lines, the grievously-injured leaning on their comrades as they prepared to fight or flee the caves.

Theron felt a nudge against his back as Corso turned toward him. “Think that’s our cue to head out?” the smuggler asked over the din.

“Good a time as any,” Theron grunted in agreement as he let Corso start pushing him toward the shelter created by Havoc’s lines. Out of the corner of his eye, he recognized Aric Jorgan’s lean, angular features highlighted by the explosion of a Skytrooper. The battle droid crumbled under the Cathar’s matchless aim. Either Havoc’s newest CO had been on a recruiting spree, or he had called in some favours with other Republic soldiers sympathizing with the resistance.

A large hand closed itself over Theron’s elbow and pulled, disturbing the burned wound in his shoulder. The spy hissed in pain, and the hand loosened its grip slightly. When Theron looked up to see who had grabbed him, he felt his heart leap into his throat at the sight of Jace Malcom staring back at him. The old soldier appeared to want to say something to his wayward son, but couldn’t seem to make the words form. For a second, Theron felt both Corso’s sudden confusion, and a heavy wave of too many emotions to sort or name from his father --

Another Skytrooper exploded from a lightsaber strike, and Jace seemed to snap himself out of his daze. “Move!” he barked out, giving Theron a shove toward the tunnel his forces had just entered through. Theron gratefully let himself be guided toward freedom by Corso’s hand on his other arm, just barely aware of Jace shifting his own position as if to provide the younger men a shield made by his own body.

He lingered long enough to look back, trying to find Xaja’s bright hair in the middle of the battle. For a second, despite the bond connecting them, he felt a spike of fear when he couldn’t immediately see her diminutive frame in the middle of the chaos. Then he saw Satele pulling the redhead out by her elbow and giving her a push toward Theron and the stream of injured Jedi survivors fleeing the Enclave. At this distance, through so much chaos he was unable to hear or lip-read the comments his mother made to the petite Jedi.

Xaja nodded at Satele and finally bolted for the exit to the caves, Kira only a step behind her. Theron felt a probe along their bond as Xaja then reached out to find him. Emerald eyes met amber, and Theron felt her relief at seeing him upright and alive. She nodded to confirm she was all right and right behind him. It was only then that Theron finally turned to flee the cavern with Corso’s aid.

In the middle of the desperate battle, there hadn’t been time nor focus for Satele to consider what she had witnessed. And there certainly hadn’t been time to ask Theron what that was, as she had fought to defend her injured son for as long as she could.

Nor had there been time to ponder what she had seen as Jace’s forces stormed the caverns, much less time to wonder how the blazes the former Supreme Commander knew to come with backup. However he had known, Satele would be eternally grateful he had come when he did.  Then she had been too busy pulling her wounded Jedi back from the fight, barely looking up to make sure Theron and Xaja escaped alive. After that, it was running for Jace’s warship, one eye worriedly looking up at the sky for Zakuulan reinforcements. Jace had caught the first Zakuulan warship off guard, but he wouldn’t have that same advantage should the rest of the Eternal Fleet show up.

It was only after the entirety of survivors and their Republic rescuers had boarded the ship, and were fleeing the ruins of the Enclave that Satele let herself fall into a chair. Her mind raced as she tried to plan the next destinations of the Jedi survivors, or the impact this would have on the resistance. Thunder wouldn’t be pleased that the cell had been compromised, she knew, but at least most of her people had made it out. She closed her eyes in a moment of silence for the fourteen Jedi who had joined the Force. The loss of that many Jedi Knights was painful.

As her mind tumbled over the battle, the memory of what she had seen rushed back, and Satele opened her eyes with a frown. For thirteen years Theron had trained with Ngani Zho, never once experiencing the wonder that was an active connection to the Force. It had been assumed that he was Force-blind like his father. It seemed that, if he was going to become aware of a connection to the Force, he should have felt it years ago. Not even being permanently bonded to a powerful Jedi Master like Xaja Taerich should be enough to allow a Force-blind being to wield it.

Still, there was no other explanation for the way Theron’s blaster, lost when he was shot, found its way back into his hand, allowing him to fire a such a lethal blow so quickly. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t convince herself that she had hallucinated it, or that the strange brightness she could feel around him was just something she was only noticing after having not seen him for over a year. What did that Voss ritual do to you?

#drastic measures #kotfe au #Theron/Xaja #shit just got REAL #Arcann has apparently been doing his homework #panic mode is GO #you know Reanden's having a low-key heart attack #Commander!Dad to the rescue! #Jace saves the day! #also what new canon-breaking thing did we just see? #Theron's in denial #Satele is STUNNED #I would go so far as to say flabbergasted #also: MOM FEELS #you know Satele has always been a quietly proud mother #except maybe after Ziost #There is a reasonable explanation for this #that will be made known in later chapters #unless I forget

[keldae]

Well you ASKED for a cuddle prompt and this was on the list 🤣: Post-coital

BAHAHAHAHAHAHA I love you. XD

Slightly NSFW.

The sounds of gasps and moans faded into the soft sounds of unsteady breathing as the room grew quiet again, without the sounds of the bed creaking or of two bodies rocking into each other. Xaja let her head relax into the pillow beneath her as she finally came back down to earth, slowly loosening her grip around Theron. He lowly sighed as she let her legs lower from his hips, dragging over the backs of his thighs as she settled down under him, her fingers lightly running over the scratches her nails had left in his back only minutes earlier.

She smiled as he finally moved enough to kiss her cheek, propping his weight on his forearms as he lifted up enough to gaze down at her. Her fingers gently caressed his face, and he leaned into her touch, stubble rubbing against her palm. “You’re amazing, Theron,” she murmured, her thumb gently tracing a line over his cheekbone. “Have I ever told you that?”

“Once or twice, I think.” Theron smiled against her hand, tilting his face to kiss her palm. “Still not half as amazing as you, beautiful.”

“Flatterer.” Xaja brushed the tip of her nose against his own, feeling his breath mingle with hers.

“Still the truth.” Theron grinned and dropped a light kiss on her lips before finally rolling to the side, sliding his half-hard length out of her. Xaja lowly moaned in protest, then felt Theron wrap his arms around her shoulders to pull her against him. She comfortably tangled her legs in with his and pillowed her head against his chest, and felt him drop a kiss in her hair. “You okay?”

“Mmhmm.” Xaja brushed another kiss against his sweat-slicked chest and comfortably settled down. “Better than.” She felt Theron hum in agreement, and for a few minutes there was silence, broken only by their breathing and the distant sounds of Coruscant’s air traffic, just barely audible through Theron’s bedroom walls. I could get used to this, Xaja realized as she let her thoughts lazily drift – wrapped in Theron’s arms, feeling a not-unpleasant ache between her thighs from their earlier activities, warm and secure and very, very comfortable. “This is nice,” she murmured.

“Mmmm.” Theron tightened his hug around her shoulders, his fingers tracing a pattern on her bare shoulder. “Never been so glad to have Coruscant downtime in my life when you’re on-world.”

“Don’t have to work tomorrow?”

“Nah. Traded for a day off.” She could feel Theron’s grin against her hair. “Thought the Director was gonna have a heart attack when I asked for a personal day off, for no reason.”

“What’s this? The legendary workaholic Theron Shan, asking for time off?” Xaja softly laughed. “What is the galaxy coming to?”

Theron lowly chuckled. “I put all the blame for this on this really pretty redhead Jedi Master. She makes me want to spend all my spare time with her.”

“Mmm. She’s a lucky lady then.”

“She’s not the lucky one. Just the crazy one with no apparent standards for sanity in the agents she seduces.” Theron laughed as Xaja lightly swatted his chest.

“Just for the record, you knew she was crazy before you seduced her, and you still went for her anyway.” Xaja grinned and tilted her face up to look at Theron’s smile.

“I’ve apparently got a type, and that type is questionably-sane tiny redheads.” Theron smirked and kissed her nose. “And to think I thought the shuttle on Yavin was going to be a one-time occurrence… I’ve never been so happy to be wrong.”

“That makes two of us.” Xaja rested her chin on Theron’s chest and scrunched her forehead up in thought. “What is this, the fourth time we’ve gotten together since the end of that mission?”

“Something like that.” Theron paused, and for a second Xaja felt uncertainty from him in the Force. “… Does that make us an official thing, then?”

“Hmm.” Xaja hummed in thought. “I’m not an expert in such things, but… I think it does make us a thing.” She glanced back up at him, abruptly remembering his skittishness with commitments and relationships. “If… if that’s okay?”

“It’s more than okay, if you want this too.” Theron brushed his thumb over her shoulder in a gentle caress. “I mean, if you, uh… you know, with the Jedi and all. I wouldn’t want you to get in hell from the Council for this.”

“What’s your mother going to do? You’re proof enough that she’s considered the Code more of a guideline than an actual rule book at least once.” Xaja felt her mouth pull upward in a smile as she reached up to gently caress Theron’s cheek. “Besides, even if I do catch shit for this… you’re worth it.”

Theron’s eyes softened at her words as he covered her hand with his own. “That… that means a lot to me.” He gently pressed his lips against her thumb, then lowered his head to kiss her.

“It’s the truth, Theron,” Xaja murmured around the soft kisses. “You’re absolutely worth any telling-off I get from the Council. I want this.”

“So do I.” Theron shifted his hands to caress her face as he kissed her more deeply. “Kriff, I want you, beautiful.”

“You have me.” Xaja grinned as she gently pushed Theron onto his back and rolled on top of him, straddling his hips. He groaned, his hips rolling up against her as he held onto her waist. “Mmm, Theron… Already looking to go again?”

“What can I say?” Theron grinned wickedly up at her. “You’re very… inspiring.” He shifted under her, openly gazing at her bared body like it was his first time admiring her again. “Got another one in there for me, baby?”

“You’re not the only one who’s quite inspiring,” Xaja murmured, a second before she gasped as Theron’s thumb drifted down to brush against her clit. “Oh, stars, Theron…”

Theron smirked, his other hand reaching up to tangle his fingers in her hair. “Why don’t you get down here and show me just how inspired I make you, beautiful,” he huskily whispered as he pulled her down, catching her lips with his own in another deep, lustful kiss. It suited Xaja just fine, when it was clear that neither of them could seem to get enough of each other – a second later, his fingers slipped inside her warmth, still slick from their earlier round, and she didn’t bother thinking about anything except how good he felt, like he was meant to be there.

#thanks for the ask! #greyias #Theron/Xaja #Theron Shan x Jedi Knight #romance #cuddles #d'awwww these two #so adorable

[keldae]

gimme xaja and theron 4. A Drunken Kiss :D

Well, doesn’t this work out perfectly. ;)

After the events of Rishi and Yavin had finally settled out, Theron hadn’t expected to be in contact with his newfound… friends, dare he say?… when life returned to normal. He was a spy, Korin was a constantly-moving spacer, Xaja was a Jedi Master with her duties to the Order, and forget Sorand (… there was no way in hell Theron was ever going to cite Reanden Taerich as being one of his friends) in Imperial Space. The Taerichs each had their own individual lives, and he didn’t have a place in them, no matter that he couldn’t seem to get Xaja out of his head… especially after finally tumbling into bed with her on Yavin. That hadn’t been ‘blowing off steam’ as much as it had been ‘fueling a fire’, as he’d discovered. But he had no delusions to the idea that maybe she felt the same. Jedi weren’t supposed to have attachments. 

He shook his head as he stared into his whiskey, ignoring the sounds of the rest of the cantina around him. It’s not worth it, Shan, he inwardly growled at himself. She’s a Jedi, she wouldn’t be interested in anything long-term, why do you have a kriffing crush on a Jedi Master anyway when you know --

A body dropped onto the stool beside him, and red hair flickered out of the corner of Theron’s eye. “Fancy meeting you here,” Xaja said with a grin as she twisted around to look at him directly. 

Theron blinked in pleasant surprise and tried to ignore how his heart jumped within his chest at that smile of hers. “Xaja! What, uh…” Yes, he’d secretly hoped to run into the pretty Jedi again, but now that she was here, he had no idea what to say. “What brings you out this way? I’d have thought you were doing Order business.”

“I’m on Order business if anyone asks, and absolutely not hiding from the paparazzi who somehow found out about the whole cult business,” Xaja muttered. “Sorand had a good idea with the mask. I might have to look into one.” She looked down at the stool she’d claimed, then back at Theron. “There wasn’t anyone sitting here, was there? Am I interrupting anything important?”

“Not in the least!” Theron quickly shook his head before Xaja could even shift her weight to move elsewhere. “You’re perfectly fine there.” He winked as he made a show of studying her face. “I’d suggest almost anything besides a mask, though. It would cover up too much of your face.” Which would be the point, a little voice in his mind muttered, making his ears go red with embarrassment.

Xaja didn’t seem to mind the awkward flirting from Theron as she laughed, her cheeks going pink in the dim lighting. “So that reduces my options down to running really, really fast and learning how to use a stealth generator…”

“Could always look into a bodyguard, maybe.”

“Oh?” Xaja tilted her head at Theron, smile dancing on her lips – not that Theron was looking at her lips at all, thinking about how he remembered they tasted, not at all. “Are you volunteering, then?”

“I could maybe be persuaded, I suppose.” Theron grinned and took a sip of his whiskey, eyeing Xaja over the rim of his glass.

“So tell me, Agent Shan…” Xaja leaned her elbow on the counter and rested her chin on her hand, green eyes sparkling with mischief and amusement and something else that made Theron’s stomach clench in hopeful anticipation. “What does a girl have to do to get the protection of the SIS’s best agent?”

“That is up for negotiation.” Theron smirked as he waved at the bartender and gestured for a drink for Xaja. “May as well make the negotiations comfortable, right? It’s on me,” he quickly added when he saw her reaching into her jacket pocket for credits.

Xaja paused as a second whiskey appeared in front of her, then grinned as she withdrew her hand from her pocket. “Next round’s on me,” she finally agreed as she took a sip of the drink.

“And there you go, proof that Jedi are master negotiators,” Theron chuckled over his own glass. “We’re off to a fine start.”

He’d lost count of how many rounds they’d gone through. Their conversation had spun away from Xaja grumbling about the paparazzi, dancing through memories of Rishi and Yavin, chatter about Theron’s job (or what wasn’t classified, anyway), laughing at ridiculous memories of former missions each had undertaken – Xaja was still giggling after Theron told her the story of blowing up the Ascendant Spear in his underwear. A legendary Jedi Master, giggling like a (intoxicated) schoolgirl… Theron decided it was an adorable sound, and he definitely needed to hear more of it.

He impulsively slid his arm around her waist as they finally stepped outside of the cantina, Coruscant’s cool nighttime breeze a sharp contrast to the heat inside the building. It should have felt strange, how perfectly she fit against his side, all five feet of thin build and soft skin and silky hair… but it felt so natural to have her right there like that. Theron decided he liked it, as much as he definitely liked everything else about her. “You know what…” he murmured as he paused behind a lamp post and looked down at her, “we never did settle up on that negotiation…”

“No, we didn’t.” Xaja stepped in front of him and smirked as she slid her hands up his chest and around his neck. Theron groaned when her fingers started tickling the short-cropped hair at his neck, earning another smirk from her. “Have anything in mind?”

“Got one idea…” Theron drawled as he slipped his arms around her back and lowered his mouth to meet hers. The kiss was straight-up sloppy, lips dancing around each other, teeth meeting roughly before his tongue slid in to find hers. Hardly the seductive kiss that spies were supposed to be masters of – but considering how Xaja moaned into his mouth and tried to pull him down closer to her, she didn’t seem to mind or judge too terribly. He lowly grunted as he instinctively pushed her back against the lamp post, one hand running up and down her side, and for a second all he wanted was to get under the jacket and tunics she wore so he could feel her skin underneath. 

A need for air finally broke the kiss, and Xaja tugged his head down to rest his forehead against her own. “Yeah,” she murmured, closely enough that Theron could feel her breath on his lips, “those are good negotiation terms. Consider them accepted.”

“Works for me.” Theron grinned and brushed another kiss against her nose. “Even got somewhere nice an’ safe to hide you from the media until they kriff off. My place is nearby.” Kriff, when had he last had a one-night-stand back at his own apartment? But she wasn’t just a normal romp in bed to blow off some steam, no matter how much he tried to deny it. Xaja was something else entirely and he knew it… and to his own surprise, he liked it.

A smile lit up those brilliant green eyes, and Xaja slid one hand back down over his chest and arm to find his hand and give it a squeeze. “Let’s go,” she breathed, and Theron would have had to be blind to miss the open, excited desire in her gaze. Apparently he hadn’t been the only one thinking about the abandoned shuttle on Yavin.

It was a bonus that his bed was more comfortable than the bunk on the shuttle that they’d fallen into, he thought as he eagerly lead her toward the taxi station. Right now, he could only imagine how much more comfortable it would be with her in it beside him.

#thanks for the prompt! #rinskiroo #nonny #theron/xaja #thefamilybusiness #awkward dorks awkwardly flirting #this flirting-turned-pseudo-smut brought to you in part by whiskey #and 'negotiations' #Theron Shan x Jedi Knight #post-Yavin #pre-Ziost #and now they're whining for follow-up smut #ergh #you two know we have a giant AU to finish writing? #apparently they don't care #and want their sexytimes #fiiiiiine

[keldae]

24. Slow Dancing

This was going to be a nice, short prompt, and then Xaja kinda took things into her own hands…

She was thirteen years old – still too scrawny and pale for a girl her age, although she no longer looks like a wraith after her extended time in the Works. Already, she had proven herself to be a very athletic child, and showed promise in the Ataru katas – and if she noticed the one or two older Masters who looked at her and were reminded of another redhaired Jedi girl, this one from Corellia, so many years ago, she never said anything. 

But not even she could spend all day doing ‘saber drills. Nor could she sit still very long without feeling restless and twitchy, and not even moving meditation helped. So Master Allende chose a more unorthodox means to help her student vent off the nervous energy.

“Step, step, hop, and turn – yes, perfect.” The dark haired woman smiled proudly as Xaja moved through the motions of a new, strange dance. “Now the other way. Good, you find your rhythm well, Padawan.”

Xaja curiously glanced at the older woman as she followed the dance steps. “Master, how does learning dances from your homeworld help me in my future with the Jedi?”

“You have a natural talent for it, young one. You find the beat more easily than others. I saw you performing katas to music like this already – let it not be said I don’t take inspiration from my students.” Master Allende paused, then winked. “Besides, who said that everything I teach you must be strictly related to Jedi education?”

The small redhaired girl grinned conspiratorially at her master, then went back to the fast-paced, energetic dance. This was fun, and she did enjoy it. And there wasn’t any part of the Jedi Code that said its students couldn’t dance, right?…

“I know Master Allende taught you how to dance in the style of her people.” Master Orgus’ voice, forever calm and soothing, flowed easily through Xaja’s ears. “She claimed you had a natural talent for it.”

Xaja nodded, just aware of Kira listening in. “Yes, Master. That’s not a problem with the Code, is it?”

“Not at all, young one. Most Jedi do know how to dance… although it’s typically less of the acrobatics and fast-stepping you’ve learned.” Orgus held out a worn, rough hand to his student. “… She didn’t teach you any formal diplomatic-function dances, did she?”

“… No, she didn’t.” Xaja glanced at Kira curiously, then back at her master. “Is this why you’re teaching us both today?”

“Yes, because Master Kiwiiks, as the saying goes, has two left feet and can’t dance at all.” Orgus grinned. “Who’s up first?”

Kira promptly nudged at Xaja’s back, making the older Padawan stumble forward a step. “I thought you weren’t fond of diplomatic events, Master…”

“No, but I can deal well enough with the dancing portion of those events. They’re not bad.” Orgus winked as Xaja found her hands being carefully guided– one on the old man’s shoulder, and one in his own palm. “This one is pretty basic, and you can probably get away with knowing only this one at most events. Just follow my lead. Left foot back, then to the side…”

It felt less like an Ataru kata and more like Soresu warmup steps. Xaja smiled and let herself relax into the motions, quickly picking up her master’s patient steps. This wasn’t what she’d learned from Master Allende, but no two dances were ever the same.

“Since when do they teach Jedi how to dance?” Doc leaned against the bulkhead and watched Xaja spinning through one of the dances Master Allende had taught her. 

“Since Jedi started getting invited to diplomatic functions,” Xaja answered as she finished the dance and switched off the music with a frivolous use of the Force. “My first Master just believed in knowing more than typical slow dancing.”

“Slow dancing’s all well and good, but is that all you know? It and the solo ballet you were just doing?”

Xaja gave the medic a curious look. “You know how to dance, Doc?”

“Do I know how to dance? You kidding, Red?” Doc grinned and knelt in front of the music player for a moment, then made his way over to Xaja and took her hand. “Ol’ Doc can dance the robes off you, probably better than that soldier boyfriend of yours can. Does Kota know how to dance at all?”

“Oh, that’s gotta be something to see,” Kira dryly commented from where she’d been observing. 

Doc very maturely stuck his tongue out at Kira, then looked back to Xaja as a fast-paced swinging rhythm of music started playing. “Okay, follow my lead. This one goes out, and back in…”

It was ten minutes of swing dancing and spinning before Xaja finally flopped on the couch with a laugh and started wondering if she could convince Doc to contract out for dancing lessons.

Officially, she was doing nothing concerning the Revanites, not until Theron and Lana somehow initiated contact with her again. 

Unofficially, she was totally investigating this ritzy club on Nar Shaddaa for any signs of the cultists. Here, people of all factions mingled, forging cross-galactic alliances and rivalries behind fancy outfits and opulent displays of wealth. If she was going to find any hint of the Revanites, it would be here.

She glanced up as the music from the live band changed, and sighed in slight disappointment. It was a pretty tune, and she was pretty sure that beat was something close to what Master Orgus had taught her to dance to, but there was nobody here for her to dance with, not when she’d come alone–

A hand took hers and gently tugged. Xaja blinked when she recognized the silvering hair and dark brown eyes of the old agent. “Dad?” she quietly asked, surprise colouring her voice.

Reanden slightly shook his head at her address, dark eyes glancing to the side before back to his daughter. “Not here,” he mouthed at her before speaking properly. “You looked rather lonely.”

Xaja forced a light, casual shrug as her father gently set his other hand on her side and spun her onto the dance floor. “Hmm, didn’t see anyone interesting to dance with,” she answered, resting her hand on his shoulder. “What brings you out this way?”

“I was in the area and got bored.” Reanden smirked, the gesture eerily like Korin. He glanced down at their feet for a second, then back at Xaja’s eyes, a raised eyebrow indicating he was impressed. “Was dancing a normal part of your training?” he softly asked.

“I learned some basics, for being in diplomatic events like this. Everything else, I kinda picked up elsewhere.”

A sad smile tugged at the old spy’s mouth for a second. “Just like your mother. She was a natural dancer too.” He spun Xaja out away from him, then pulled her back in. “This was one of her favourite styles of dance, you know.”

“I don’t know, actually. I know virtually nothing about Mum besides the fact that she existed and was a Green Jedi. I didn’t even know that much until I arrived on Corellia.”

“For pity’s sake…” Reanden growled something uncomplimentary about the Jedi as he shook his head. “I have so many stories about her to tell you when I have the chance. For now…” He sadly smiled again as he gave Xaja another twirl, her skirts fanning out with the motion. “Yes. Definitely your mother’s daughter. You dance this as well as she did.”

Xaja couldn’t stop the beam of pride that made her heart skip a beat, pride at being at all like the mother she’d never known.

Xaja decided that some vocabulary differences were to be expected between Zakuulans and the Core Worlds. But she had thought that the concept of ‘small party’ would be pretty universal. Indo seemed to think otherwise.

“I’m terrified to think of what a grand celebration would look like,” she muttered to Theron as the spy settled his hands on her hips, letting her arms drape comfortably over his neck. “In what universe is this ‘small’?”

Theron smirked as he gently pulled her to a side of the dance floor, slowly swaying back and forth with her. “You should have seen the original guest list that I had to talk him down from. You’re welcome, by the way.” He kissed her nose as she groaned, then moved one of his hands down to touch her stomach. “Are you feeling okay?”

Xaja nodded and smiled at the care she could see in his hazel eyes. “Yes, I’m feeling fine. Whatever Dr. Oggurobb gave me for the morning sickness, it’s helping immensely.”

“Good.” He softly smiled, his hands shifting from her still-flat stomach to wrap around her back. “So, I’m taking it no acrobatic ballet dancing from you tonight.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I could probably still do it, but… I don’t really want to, not tonight.”

“Good, because I don’t think I can keep up with that.” Theron winked. “SIS agents do get a lot of dance lessons, but nothing quite that… complex.”

“I’m sure you’d catch on fine, love.” Xaja grinned. “You who seems to master almost everything else you try. Slicing, swoop racing, bickering with my dad…”

“That last one’s just for fun.” Theron chuckled. “I’m still surprised that the Jedi let their students dance.”

“If you knew how many diplomatic events we get sent on in peace times…”

“Good point.” Theron leaned down to nuzzle her neck. “is there another type of dance you’d like to be doing now? I can probably remotely slice in and change the music…”

Xaja shook her head and kissed Theron’s cheek, content to let her feet shuffle in time to his, her body lazily swaying against his, this dance less concerned with rhythm and more with simple, comforting proximity. “No. This, right here, with you… this is perfect.”

“Mmmm. You’re perfect.” Theron smiled and kissed her hair, then drew back to rest his forehead against hers and gaze into her eyes. Xaja felt her breath catch as the dance floor fell away and the rest of the celebratory party on Odessen vanished, the music and sounds of other guests fading to a dull mumble. In this little corner of the room, slowly dancing with Theron, secure and content in his arms… this was heaven, and she’d finally found it.

[keldae]

Drastic Measures (Chapter Nine)

Yep. This planet was miserably cold and wet, and Xaja still hated it. She hunched her shoulders under the borrowed black robes and followed her father out of the hangar to the speeder station. She was thankful for the double dosage of stims given her by both Doc and Dr. Lokin before leaving the ship, keeping the poisoning symptoms at bay. Behind her, she could hear Doc and Theron as they walked in something vaguely approaching unison, their armoured footsteps enough to drown out Dr. Lokin’s footfalls behind them. Somehow, the knowledge that she couldn’t speak to her father or friends, or that her father wouldn’t risk their lives by breaking character to give her any sort of reassurance, made her feel even more small and afraid. Reanden’s last direction had been to not say or do anything without his lead until they were safe within the Citadel and in her brother’s company — there were eyes and ears everywhere, not all of which reported to him. “Acina and Vowrawn have their own spies in the city, not to mention people taking credits from Zakuul or… certain individuals in the Republic. Assume everyone’s directly reporting to either Saresh or Arcann.”

“Even the droids?”

“Especially the droids.”

Xaja kept that in mind as she boarded the speeder taxi to the Citadel. The pilot droid gave all of its passengers a cursory look, but didn’t voice any questions, merely accepted her father’s orders. This wasn’t her dad talking though: this was the Sith Intelligence Commander, his voice cold and emotionless as any Imperial spy might have been expected to sound. If she hadn’t known her dad to be caring and gentle and protective behind closed doors, she would have been intimidated by him. She still felt a shudder down her back, as it was. Little wonder Cipher Nine is still feared in the Republic — and across a good bit of the Empire. Even Acina’s still letting him do whatever he wants. Does she fear him, too?

The taxi wound through Kaas City, landing on the pad before the Sith Sanctum. Glancing to the right, Xaja could see the entrance pad for what her father had informed her was Intelligence’s headquarters; to the left, the nearly-deserted Mandalorian Enclave. Most of the bounty hunters in the service of the Empire had been recalled by Mand’alor the Avenger, the newest leader of their people. The few remaining were either token representatives, or not Mandalorians at all. Either way, it certainly was not somewhere that Xaja wanted to visit.

Of course, the kriffing Sith Sanctum wasn’t somewhere she wanted to be either. But it really was their best option right now, between the element of surprise and the hope that her brother could protect her, Theron, and Doc. She didn’t need to be a spy like her father to know that if she showed fear now, all five of them were probably going to die as their covers were blown. The arrogant Sith Lord walk isn’t too different from a Jedi’s stride. Just act like you own the place. You’ve spent enough time around Scourge. Just mimic how he stood and walked… but, y’know, shorter. She fell into step behind her father as he started walking in, sensing Theron, Doc, and Lokin retaking their positions behind her. To anyone observing, they hopefully would look like an escort for a Sith visitor for Darth Imperius — and if the Commander of Sith Intelligence was walking with them, who was going to question it?

“Ahhh, Commander.” Okay, apparently someone was going to question it. “Finally had your fill of gallivanting around the galaxy, hmm?”

“Are you now trying to keep track of my schedule, Lorman?” Her father sounded like he was trying to sound polite, while keeping himself from strangling this newcomer. “I’m flattered that you’re following me, really.”

“It’s Minister Lorman!” Xaja raised an eyebrow under her hood at the furious sputter from this Lorman. “Is that really so difficult to remember, Commander?”

“My pardon. My mind gets so consumed with things of importance like the security of the Empire and doing my job… oh, and remembering what groceries I need to pick up on my way home.”

More angry sputtering. “Why I -- the nerve -- Empress Acina will hear of this!”

“Yes, I’m sure she will. Doesn’t the Empress have a pair of boots for you to lick, Lorman? If you’ll excuse me…”

“It’s Minister Lorman! Minister!”

“Yes, you’ve said. Move. I need to speak with Darth Imperius immediately.”

“Darth Imperius is otherwise occupied at the moment,” Lorman said through gritted teeth. “If you’ll pass along your message to me I’ll make sure it gets to him—”

“The only message I have for you, Lorman, is one that isn’t repeatable in polite company. The important message is for Imperius’ ears only. Unless you’ve been hired on as his new secretary? If I’d known he was looking for one, I’d have offered him a protocol droid.”

Lorman sounded too angry to speak for a moment, and Xaja almost grinned under the hood. Only the reminder that her lips were still visible kept her expression still. “Your position does not make you invincible, Commander! I am the Minister of Logistics! I still outrank you!”

“And I know your HoloNet passwords, the names of your pets, and where you sleep. By the way, your taste in music is terrible.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“You’re asking that of the man escorting Imperius’ newest apprentice?” Reanden’s feet shifted in front of Xaja’s vision as he seemed to move closer to Lorman. “… How did your brain learn human speech, Lorman? I’m just so curious.” Xaja felt a tug in her mind from the little knot that felt like Theron, warm and bright and comforting — it felt like he was desperately trying to not laugh.

“It’s Minister!”

“I would have named my childhood neighbour’s cousin’s pet gizka as a minister instead of you. Acina really must be desperate.”

“You -- ! You would compare me to a gizka?!”

“… No, you’re right. The poor gizka deserved better.” Xaja wanted to laugh at how much her father was taunting this so-called minister. She could feel Theron’s grin under his helmet through their bond.

“You insolent -- ! You would insult me like this in front of a Sith?!”

“Acolyte Xalia seems quite amused by this. If she wasn’t, you would probably already be dead or wishing you were.” Xaja could almost hear the smug smile in her father’s voice. “Bit of a psychopath, this one. Doesn’t talk a lot, although she doesn’t really need to, as far as I’ve seen. I think she comes from a group of cannibals.”

Dammit, Dad, you’re having far too much fun with this.

“… So, he picks ex-Jedi and aliens for his apprentices, and now… cannibals?” Lorman sounded a little bit squeamish. The tug that was Theron fairly vibrated with his amusement.

“I value my life enough to know not to question his choices in apprentices. I’d be careful though, Lorman. This one’s also got the patience of a Jawa on stimcaf and…” Reanden turned, and Xaja wasn’t sure if the sudden shift to his voice was supposed to be nervousness or suppressed laughter. “… Doctor Lokin, do you remember the last time she ate anything?…”

“About four hours ago, sir. She, uhh… might be getting hungry again --”

Xaja couldn’t resist. She turned her hooded head in the direction of Lorman’s voice and gave him what could be best described as a maniacal grin, knowing her mouth was still visible, and was rewarded with a stifled yelp of terror. Even her father shuddered. “Oh, bloody hell, not right now, Acolyte, please don’t make me have to file more paperwork…” he muttered under his breath, just loudly enough to be audible.

“She’s mad, Commander! And Imperius must be insane if he’s picked this one as his newest apprentice!”

“Like I said, I don’t question Darth-kriffing-Imperius. I’m just grateful he gave me the warning to keep her under armed guard. Any more questions before she completely runs out of patience and I have to pay to have you cleaned out of my uniform?”

“… As you were, Commander.” Xaja heard what sounded like boots scrambling for purchase on the smooth floor as Lorman beat a hasty retreat.

“Thank you, Lorman. Come along, Acolyte, and please remember your master said to not eat these guards, or me…”

“It’s Minis --!” Xaja turned her head in the direction of Lorman’s voice and emitted a tiny hiss around her grin, and heard him yelp as he ran. She heard something that sounded like Doc trying not to choke on his own laughter behind his helmet and felt Theron’s amusement through their bond — if he hadn’t been undercover, he probably would have been on the ground laughing.

Reanden led the group to one of the turbolifts down a corridor and, once everyone was on board, entered the command for the lift to rise a few storeys. A few moments later, the turbolift opened on the destination floor, and Xaja could never figure out how her father mastered the stride of someone acting like he was hustling out of a confined space with a questionably-sane Sith without looking like he was trying to escape. She followed with an almost lazy stride, and Theron, Doc, and Lokin all exited after her. This area of the Citadel had been decorated with a much more luxurious hand: Red banners adorned the walls, proudly displaying the Sith Empire’s crest; echoes bounced around the corridor as their footsteps sounded on the black marble floor. She shouldn’t have been surprised her father knew his way; he lead them down the hallway, around a corner, and through a door without bothering to knock.

The Kaleesh standing in the atrium turned and inclined his head minutely. “Commander,” he said in a deep voice, his words clipped and sort. “You have returned sooner than expected.”

“There were… developments that required an in-person report sooner than later,” Reanden answered. “Is your master in, Xalek?”

The alien Sith glanced toward the closed door leading deeper into the chambers. “He, and the ambassador from Zakuul. They have been speaking for some time.” He paused. “My master’s patience is growing thin.”

“Yes, well I don’t blame him,” Reanden growled quietly. “That moron has got the worst timing.”

“Yes. Any timing.”

“Ha! I knew you had a sense of humour in there.”

“My master is training me well—” Xalek looked sharply at the door as Xaja raised her head slightly, sensing a burst of frustration. “And another lesson.”

“And what lesson is that today?” Reanden asked. “How to diplomatically tell someone where to go and how to get there, and what they can do with a rusty hydrospanner and an angry kath hound on the way?” Xaja could feel Theron and Doc both wincing behind her.

“That was last week.” Xalek looked back at the spy, then at the door again. “Today it may be how to verbally skin someone alive.”

“… I’ve never wished for Minister Beniko to be around as I do right now.”

Xalek didn’t get a chance to respond, as the door slid open with perhaps a bit more emphasis than was strictly necessary. A golden-armoured figure stormed out of the inner chamber, radiating fury. Xaja sensed Theron tensing behind her as he recognized the Zakuulan armour. “You will reconsider this, Imperius!”

“They are Republic assets, not Imperial. What interest should I have in this?” Xaja nearly cried when she heard her baby brother’s voice. He’d definitely embraced the Sith persona, his voice low and arrogant and all but dripping in anger. Darth Imperius had come into his own. “This is Zakuul’s mess, Exarch. Surely you can sort out your own problems with the Republic. Three people can’t be that difficult to find.”

“The terrorist and the assassin, and their accomplice on Rishi, have vanished. You must deploy your agents to find them!”

“It’s hardly my fault if your agents are so inept as to lose three people, one of them a bloody Jedi. You still can’t have any of mine.”

“Your insolence is noted!”

“As is your idiocy. Do you honestly think that I am going to divert Imperial resources to hunting three of your problems?” Imperius rolled his eyes as the Exarch opened her mouth. “If my agents happen to come across anything, I will inform you with all due haste. But I am not retasking my people to fix your damn problem.”

The Exarch stayed quiet, breathing through clenched teeth. “Izax damn you,” she finally hissed. “Fine. We will be waiting for your intelligence reports. If your agents are half as good as you claim, they will find something useful soon.”

“Of course,” Imperius said through gritted teeth. His molten eyes glanced over at Reanden, then at his escorting company. Xaja didn’t feel any sudden jolt of recognition from her brother, even when his brief mental probe touched her mind with a soft brush. “If the Jedi and her accomplices are foolish enough to show up in Imperial space, on my bloody doorstep even, I’ll deliver the news to you myself. But might I add they are Republic assets, all of whom seem to have enough survival instincts to avoid my people’s territory.”

“I am aware they are not Imperial,” growled the Exarch as she turned to stalk out of the room. “Consider this, Imperius: if they can attack my people like this, what’s to stop them from going after yours? Are they still not your problem?”

“If your Emperor wants them that badly, he’ll find them before they’re a threat to my people.” Imperius smirked coldly. “And my people can defend themselves against a mere terrorist. Are yours so weak?”

“You play a dangerous game, Sith. I will be waiting.” The Exarch finally stormed out and shut the door emphatically behind her. For a few seconds, nobody moved or spoke.

Reanden finally shook his head and sighed. “I’m so glad she was too mad to remember what my job is. Good job not actually frying her, kid.” Xaja glanced sharply at Xalek as the Kaleesh relaxed against the wall. Right, her brother’s apprentice had already known about her after Ziost -- it was only reasonable that he would know about his master’s father by now.

“Mum’s influence is still lurking, all those years later,” Imperius said as he seemed to deflate with relief. The voice changed — this was Sorand Taerich talking now. “This isn’t… it can’t actually be… Xaja?”

It was clearly safe now. And Sorand had recognized her Force-signature after all. Xaja pushed her hood back and watched her brother’s eyes bulge, amber fading to dark brown like their father’s… then his mouth turned upward in a delighted smile, and a second later she was being hugged tightly enough to be lifted off her feet by her much-taller sibling. “Oh, kriffing hell, you Jedi pain in the ass, I thought you were dead! And you come back by pissing off Zakuul?!”

“You should know I don’t do anything without causing a commotion! I wasn’t about to leave you alone in the galaxy without me to pester you, little brother.” Xaja laughed as she clung to her brother’s shoulders, so grateful to have at least one of her siblings alive and well. She glanced over when she heard the sounds of Theron and Doc removing their helmets and felt Sorand’s Force-presence stutter in surprise. “Uhh… this isn’t going to be a problem, is it…?”

Sorand looked back and forth between the fugitives for a second, then grinned and shook his head. “Not in the least. Oh, the Exarch is going to be livid if she realizes you’re under her nose like this and I conveniently forget to tell her… Xalek?”

“I have seen nothing, Master. The Intelligence Commander merely had a new report for you. The fugitives were never in Imperial Space.” The Kaleesh almost sounded innocent.

“Excellent, apprentice.” Sorand looked back over at his father. “Uhh, what is their cover story here, Dad? I figure Theron and… Doctor Kimble, wasn’t it?… are nameless soldiers in here…”

“Oh, yes. This is your new apprentice, son. She’s a psychopath that may or may not have been affiliated with the Red Hulls — y’know, cannibal and all. Probably crazy enough to scare even your uncle if he’d ever met her.”

“A cannibal? Really?” Sorand sighed, then looked at Xaja. “Did Dad actually call you a cannibal psychopath to give you a cover here?”

Xaja just gave her little brother the same grin she’d shot at Lorman. “Rawr. I ate the competition on Korriban. Or something. Fear me.”

“… I’m having flashbacks to Rishi.” Sorand groaned and looked up at the ceiling. “Dad’s created a monster.”

“My finest work yet.” Reanden leaned against the wall for a moment and smirked. “Lorman’s scared shitless of her.”

Sorand burst out laughing, the sound lighter and easier than one might have expected of one of the Dark Council. “Please tell me you got holos, Dad. I want details!”

“I’ll tell you the full story. But you might want to sit down — we’re going to be here a while, son.” Reanden started walking back into the inner sanctum, sobering. “And for obvious reasons, this is top security.”

“Of course. Shall I summon Talos so we don’t have to explain this multiple times? I believe Mako’s around while Shara’s in a meeting in the Enclave.”

“Mako’s here? Excellent, get her in here — we could use a genius little slicer like her. If you trust Talos to stay silent, we’ll brief him too. Shara obviously will need to know about this — any idea when she’ll be out of that meeting?”

“She’s busy kicking the collective asses of one of the hunters’ guilds, so Force only knows how long that will take…”

Xaja did try to focus on the conversation between her dad and her brother, right up until the point that the headache resurged in her head, painfully enough to make her wince. She didn’t even have to be moving for her balance to suddenly give out, and if Sorand hadn’t still been hugging her, she likely would have wound up in a heap on the floor. As it was, the young Sith squawked in alarm as she sagged with a strangled moan. “The hell?!” he exclaimed. “What’s wrong? Just being on Dromund Kaas shouldn’t be hurting you like this, no matter how much of a Jedi you are!”

Xaja wanted to answer, but couldn’t seem to focus enough on coordinating her mouth and lungs and vocal cords all at once to speak — it was enough effort to not completely collapse, even with Sorand practically holding her up until Theron had lunged forward to grab her by the waist and her father came running back. She could only count herself very, very fortunate that the stims hadn’t worn off sooner.

“And that’s a big part of why we’re here and not hiding on Tatooine or Hoth,” Theron finally said as Sorand looked up at him while Lokin hurried around them to get to Xaja’s side, syringes of drugs already coming out of his satchel. “She’s been carbonite poisoned by the Zaks, and it’s bad.”

Sorand’s eyes widened in shock — Xaja felt dismay and fear pulse off of him for a second. He apparently already knew what that meant. “... Shit.”

#drastic measures #theron/xaja #in which ideas from Rishi get reused #featuring a cameo from MINISTER Lorman #short chapter is short #but delightfully full of snark #SpyDad's a dick #but a funny one #I giggled writing this #Imperius #Xaja #Reanden #Sorand #Theron #Clan Taerich #also Firefly reference FTW

[keldae]

Drastic Measures (Chapter 10)

Featuring dialogue written by Clan Piranha!

Korin hunched his shoulders into his leather jacket and skulked into a dark alleyway on Nar Shaddaa, frowning up at the thickly polluted sky. For the last three hundred years, this moon had been the ideal place for people looking to disappear, or close clandestine deals. Such things still happened, of course, and the Hutts only looked on until they’d gotten their share of the profits.

The looming space station in near orbit just made such things more difficult. Korin wasn’t sure exactly how the Star Fortresses worked. He knew only that they were Zakuulan-made; had enough firepower to decimate a heavily-populated world like Nar Shaddaa; and they were popping up across the galaxy. As far as he heard, there were two structures no longer showing signs of being under construction: the station looming over Alderaan, and the other that cast its shadow right over his head. The chatter he’d picked up hinted that more were being constructed over Tatooine and Voss. That made him scowl. The resistance cell on Tatooine really didn’t need an immense, looming, planet-killing orbital station right over their heads. He’d heard a rumour that the framework of another fortress was en route for the Core, possibly heading right for Coruscant itself.

That’s gonna be a disaster, the smuggler mused to himself. Turning another corner in the alley, he glanced over his shoulder to ensure no one was tailing him, then quickly typed an access code into the door panel. It rattled open and he slipped inside. He found himself standing in a derelict-looking apartment complex in the Red Light district. The smell of old garbage and stale urine permeated everything in this block, but kept the resident overlords away. Only the truly insane would willingly enter such a place as this.

Korin had already been accused of being insane more than once. This was just further evidence.

The whirring and beeping from his little companion made him look down and give the droid an exasperated look. “What do you have to complain about, Tee-Seven? You can’t smell anything down here!”

//Hideout = polluted = sticky. T7 treads =/= easy movement in sticky.//

“Ugh. Okay, point. Just stay behind me, buddy.”

//Master Xaja =/= bring T7 to a place like this.//

“You’re totally gonna tattle on me if-- when we find her, aren’t you?”

Tee-Seven whistled in what could almost be described as a gleeful manner, making Korin scowl. “Fine, I’ll get you set up with an oil bath when we’re out of here. That gonna buy your silence?”

//Oil bath = acceptable bribe. T7 = still telling Master Xaja about Captain Korin stealing.//

“Hey, you came along willingly when I offered to spring you off Coruscant! That doesn’t count as stealing you!” He shook his head as he poked his head around a corner and nodded at the two occupants of the room. “Vette, Zenith. Either of you two seen Hylo around recently?”

Vette waved at Korin and gestured further down the hallway. “Yeah, she’s here. Just got in a few hours ago with all the new chatter about that giant bounty from Zakuul.”

“I recognized Master Taerich and Agent Shan from that posting. She was a friend of yours from before the war, and Shan was with another resistance cell, right?” Zenith asked as he looked up from reassembling his blaster rifle. “You got any news on where she might be?”

“Not yet,” Korin said. That was a lie: he had received a short, coded message from his father a couple of days ago. Found them. Hiding. But better to not risk being identified as someone in the know as to where Zakuul’s Most Wanted might be. “I was hoping Hylo and I could brainstorm an’ see if we get anything.”

“Good luck,” Vette said, then suddenly froze, her violet eyes widening. “Whoa! What’d you do to your hand?”

“Hmm?” Korin glanced down and raised his broken hand. His father had done a good enough job with setting it that he’d almost forgotten about the wound, and there’d been enough kolto applied to it that it was mostly healed after a week. But the bandages were still quite prominent. “Got in a fight with a wall. You should see the other guy. And completely unrelated, we gotta find those bounty targets first so I can punch Theron Shan in his kriffing face.”

Zenith snorted in amusement. “You’ll be gunnin’ it to get ahead of Zakuul, and everyone else in the galaxy who’d like fifty million credits or so.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” Korin waved in farewell to the two Twi’leks, then continued down the hallway and poked his head into what served as the headquarters in this dingy apartment. “Oi, Hylo!”

There was a muttered expletive, and then a Mirialan poked her head up from beside the computer terminal. “If it ain’t my favourite Voidhound pain in the ass. Make yourself useful and come fix this stupid thing, will ya? Gault’s off doing something I don’t wanna know the details of.”

“I’d better be the only Voidhound pain in the ass around here. Ain’t no good being legendary if there’s another one of me around,” Korin retorted as he meandered up to the computer, his stolen/borrowed droid trundling along after him. “Tee-Seven, see what sorta magic you can work on this thing.”

//T7 =/= miracle worker.// But the little droid obediently plugged into the computer as Korin typed in a couple of access codes and started manually troubleshooting.

“And you two’ve earned your keep for the next week or so.” Hylo grinned, tugged Korin down for a playful kiss on his cheek, then walked over to the table and started pouring a couple of drinks out. “So how’s Tatooine?”

“Hot. Sandy. Full of Jawas.” Korin frowned at the diagnostic readout, then knelt and started shifting wires around. It was a harder task to do one-handed than one might have thought. “The cell’s okay, all things considered. We’re trying to figure out what we’re doing about the orbital station going up over the Outlaw’s Den.”

Hylo scowled at the mention of the orbital stations and cast a dark glare up at the ceiling, where Nar Shaddaa’s own satellite lurked. “Our benevolent overlords are throwing the damn things everywhere. How the hell are they making all of them at once?”

“And where are they gettin’ the supplies an’ credits from? I got so many questions.” Korin grunted as he got a mild shock from the wires. “You let womp rats in here t’chew on things?”

“I haven’t seen a single womp rat in here!” Hylo leaned over Korin’s shoulder and frowned. “Oh. I see whatcha mean. Is that a mynock nest in there?”

“Yeah, I think I found your problem. You’re probably gonna want to replace all these components sooner ‘n later.” Korin sat back and accepted one of the drinks Hylo offered. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Hylo leaned back against a chair and sipped at her own glass. “You didn’t come haulin’ ass into Hutt Space just t’ fix my computer, Cap’n. What’s up?”

“Dunno how up on the news you are, but you see that thing what just came out of Zakuul the other day?” Korin got to his feet, brushing dust off his clothing.

“Everyone and their mother’s seen that thing. I don’t envy either of ‘em.” Hylo ran her finger over the rim of her glass. “You got some sorta interest in ‘em? The girl looked familiar, like that Jedi you were workin’ with on Rishi way back when. Wasn’t her name Taerich-something? And the Shan kid… damn, wonder what the twit got himself into now.”

Korin hesitated before he nodded. “Her name’s Xaja, and she’s my sister. The sister I thought was killed years ago. For obvious reasons, I’d kinda like t’ find her alive before the Zaks do.”

Hylo’s eyes widened. “That Jedi girl you were workin’ with back with that whole crazy cult business was your sister? I thought you were just tryin’ to get in her robes!” She shook her head and laughed. “Of all the folks to have a Jedi sister, would never have pegged the loudest an’ proudest delinquent I know.”

“Any other pretty Jedi girl an’ that answer would be an emphatic yes, but with her… euch.” Korin shuddered. “Movin’ on... Your people haven’t heard any rumours of where they might’ve shown their faces?”

“There’s chatter all over the board, kid. Folks are claimin’ to have seen ‘em everywhere — here, Hutta, Ord Mantell, Brentaal, Jedha, Port Nowhere, even Coruscant. A couple of ‘em might be legit though. One guy got a look at a girl who might look like your Jedi sister on Corellia, although he lost her pretty fast. An’ another one of my buddies swears he saw both of ‘em on Rishi about thirty seconds before they were haulin’ ass offworld.”

“Hmmm.” Korin frowned into his drink. “One of my friends says he saw somethin’ on Rishi too. But if they’re gone from there already…”

“No tellin’ where they might be now. Sorry, kid.” Hylo reached over and patted Korin’s shoulder. “I’ll keep an ear open though. We might get somethin’. You’ll be the first person I tell if anythin’ looks interesting.”

“Thanks, Hylo. I really appreciate it.” Korin gave the Mirialan a tired smile as Tee-Seven beeped his agreement.

“No problem, kid. But be ready to move fast if somethin’ does come up. There’s a lot of folks who’ll do a lot for that many credits.”

“… You lot are damn lucky my honour’s worth more than two hundred million credits.” Shara Verhayc sighed and rested her palm against her forehead. “That story’s so insane, there’s no way it can be a lie.”

“Two hundred million, plus another two million added the other day for Doctor Kimble, cyar’ika,” Sorand corrected as he stared at his datapad again. “If you’d had any hopes of staying anonymous, Doctor, I’m afraid you’re out of luck. I would have thought you might have had a few more days before being identified…”

Doc just scowled at the datapad. Apparently anonymity was not his greatest concern. “Two million credits? I was at the top of my graduating class from the most prestigious university in Republic Space. I can cure anything, and Arcann’s only offering a measly two million credits for my head when Agent Walking-Disaster is worth fifty million? It should be at least twenty-five million for my healing hands alone!”

Xaja shook her head in exasperation as Sorand looked down and away, but not before the Jedi saw his lips twitch upward in a grin. To her left, Reanden just sighed and looked up at the ceiling, muttering something incoherent under his breath.

“Yeah, cure everything except carbonite poisoning,” Theron snarked at the medic from Xaja’s other side, well out of retaliation range. Not for the first time, the Jedi wondered why she always wound up stuck in the middle when her lover and her friend were sniping at each other.

Doc’s eyes narrowed in a glare. “Only because I don’t have the components I need for the cure, Shan. And I’ve still been more useful in dealing with it than you.”

“Yes, because sneaking into the Spire, finding her in carbonite and breaking her out, and escaping without getting her or me killed was something you could have done --”

Sorand raised his head back up and looked at Xaja. “Have they been doing this the entire time that they’ve been within breathing distance of each other?”

“Yes.” That was Xaja, Reanden, and Lokin all answering in the same breath. Doc scowled while Theron gave him a sidelong glare, but they finally quit bickering for the moment.

The Sith looked back and forth between the spy and the medic for a moment before returning to the subject at hand, satisfied that they could at least act like mature adults for a few minutes. “Okay. Dad was right when he said this will be the last place anyone would think to look for any of you, especially Xaja, and I’m happy to hide you for as long as I can. But this is Dromund Kaas. There are a lot of people here who don’t mind our benevolent overlords when there’s that many credits up for your heads. Others here hate Zakuul with a passion, but those same people also tend to be proponents of the Empire’s glory days around the time of the Treaty. They might not turn you over to Zakuul, but they also aren’t going to say no to a chance to kill a Jedi, or a Republic spy.”

Xaja nodded and sighed. “We’re not exactly big on options, brother. The Republic’s hunting us too — you saw that posting from the Chancellor.”

“Was this the same person you got into a yelling match with over the holo on Ziost?”

“Oh yes. That conversation continued when I got back to Coruscant. Saresh… isn’t fond of me, and the feeling’s mutual.”

Sorand shook his head and smirked. “Oh, I would have paid dearly to hear that.” He sobered again. “She might be afraid of Zakuul’s possible retaliation if the Republic’s accused of sending Theron in, especially if Arcann’s accusing him of setting up some plan to attack civilians — I know that’s a load of bantha shit, Theron, terrorism’s not your style.” Theron gave the Sith a tight smile, and Xaja felt a sudden sick feeling over their bond. I’d feel sick too if somebody had accused me of planning to murder civilians. “Although if she’s as… emphatically not fond of you as you say she is…”

“Hey, you heard that shouting match,” Theron interjected. “And she hates me. She’d sell us both for a cookie if someone offered.”

“Oh, don’t think so lowly of yourself, Shan.” Xaja looked up to see her father’s lips twitching in a smirk. “You’re worth at least two cookies. Granted, they’re both raisin cookies…”

“Wonderful. I feel so special. Thanks, old timer, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“For kriff’s sake, Dad,” Xaja muttered as she dropped her face into her hands. “You are not helping!”

“Okay, we’ve established the Chancellor hates both of you, probably Doctor Kimble by association, and won’t try to save your collective shebs from Arcann,” Sorand quickly spoke before another squabble-fest could break out. “Is there anyone else in the Republic High Command or the Senate who might help you?”

“Saresh has her fingers everywhere,” Theron admitted with a final sidelong scowl at Reanden. “While there might be a couple of people higher up in the SIS or High Command who would be willing to hide me or Xaja, they wouldn’t be able to without being caught.” He and Xaja exchanged a quick glance before he continued. “We can’t risk their necks like that. You know if Saresh finds out about anyone helping us, they’ll wind up on Arcann’s bounty posting too.”

Sorand nodded and sat back, tapping his gloved fingers against his chin. “Hmmm. Acina and Vowrawn have their people all through my spheres — I’ve got my own people watching them too. We’re Sith, it’s expected. — but if I get you three out of public sight, they won’t be able to watch you. It’s pretty well-known that I’m the recluse of the Dark Council and personally vet everyone who gets invited to my residence. That list is… not much longer than the list of people in this room.”

“It won’t be a permanent solution,” Xaja quietly said. “How long do you think we would have?”

“A few days, for certain. If we’re lucky, a few weeks.” Sorand frowned. “Dad can probably arrange for false identities and disguises, so that might extend your time here. And between Shara, Dad, and I, we know where a few of the resistance cells that might be able to shelter you are. But we’re on borrowed time now.”

Xaja nodded, then suddenly cringed as a muscle spasm hit her right arm, hard enough to make the limb’s twitch visible through her robe. Sorand’s frown deepened as he watched Theron take Xaja’s arm and gently try to loosen the muscle. “And that’s another problem.”

“There is a conventional medicinal cure for carbonite poisoning,” Reanden said as he turned to take Lokin’s satchel while the older doctor moved to give Xaja another dose of medicine. “But it’s hard to come by, and expensive. It’s the other reason I didn’t take them to a resistance cell straight off.”

“Kriff.” The Sith sighed. “How bad is the damage?”

Reanden didn’t say anything. Xaja looked up to see her father’s gaze, and felt her heart break when she saw the grief in his eyes. Doc lowered his head and sighed; Theron squeezed her hand tightly, and Xaja was nearly drowned by the fear she could sense from him.

Lokin finally finished giving Xaja the medicine and turned to look at the rapidly-paling Sith Lord. “Your sister’s dying, Imperius,” he quietly said. “If she hadn’t been so fortunate as to meet Doctor Kimble on Rishi, she would probably already be gone.”

Sorand didn’t move or say anything for a long minute, then dropped his head into his hands. “With your and Kimble’s combined skill, assuming you have every drug you need to treat the symptoms, how long…?” Shara perched herself on the edge of the desk and reached a hand over to the Sith’s shoulder, worry creasing her brow.

Xaja watched as Lokin and Doc exchanged a sombre look. “Perhaps a month, at the outside,” Lokin finally said. “The poisoning is severe, and centered around her nervous system. She’s losing access to the Force too. At this stage, even if we had the cure on hand this minute, the damage that’s already been done is likely permanent.” She had already known that, but that didn’t stop her from gripping Theron’s hand back as tightly as she could and leaning into her father’s touch when she felt his hand on her shoulder. There is no death, only the Force… but that didn’t mean she wanted to die. I can’t. Not like this. I can’t leave Theron and Doc and my family alone, not like this!

There was a long moment where Sorand didn’t say anything — and when he did, the voice wasn’t that of a Sith Lord. It was that of a worried little brother. “Fierfek.” He looked back up. “You two compile a list of everything you need for that cure, and I will find a way to make sure you have it, and kriff the cost of it.”

Doc quickly nodded. “We’ve got a list already. Give us a second and we’ll get it transferred to you.”

“Good. Time’s of the essence. Talos, Xalek.”

“Yes, my lord?” The archaeologist and advisor to the Sith had been standing in a corner, mostly unnoticed; now he stepped up beside the Kaleesh apprentice.

“Go and make sure my residence is secure -- discreetly. In the event of a worst-case-scenario, I want the Raven fully fueled and ready to fly at a moment’s notice.” He glanced up at Shara, got a nod, and continued. “Shara will have her ship ready to go as a backup option.”

“I’ll come with you,” Reanden spoke up. “And I may need to steal Mako, Shara. I need all ears available listening for any chatter about these three.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see what sorta false leads I can set up in the guilds.” Shara gave Xaja and Theron an apologetic look as she hopped off Sorand’s desk. “With you two bein’ worth that much, I can’t keep ‘em from goin’ after ya, but I can at least slow ‘em down.”

“We appreciate everything you can do… all of you.” Xaja straightened up in her seat to look around at everyone who’d just sworn, either for themselves or on orders from Sorand, to protect them. “We understand the risk that you’re taking for us.”

“I am not going to ever be accused of being a kinslayer, which is what I would be if I just sat back and didn’t help you,” Sorand said as he stood up and came around beside Shara. “I’ve only got one sister in this galaxy, and I’d rather like to keep her around as long as I can.” He gave Xaja a grin. “The fact that I get to spite our dear overlords at the same time is just a bonus.”

“Anything that hampers Arcann and his minions is good for us.” Reanden gave Xaja’s shoulder a final squeeze and bent to kiss her hair before he moved away. “Mako, Talos, Xalek: come along. Time is precious.”

“Yes sir, Mister Commander, sir!” Shara’s companion, a petite human girl with impressive cybernetic implants on her face, cheerfully followed the older agent and the archaeologist out of the room.

“Brat.” Reanden just shook his head, then put his officer’s cap back on — Xaja could see the second where Reanden Taerich disappeared and the Sith Intelligence Commander returned.

“It will be too risky for Doctor Kimble to check the Citadel’s stores on medicinal ingredients,” Lokin said as Reanden vanished down the corridor, “but he can brief you on the details of what we need while I go investigate. A significant amount of what we need should be available in Intelligence’s storage.”

“Good. Keep me updated.” Sorand watched the old doctor leave, then gave Xaja a contemplative frown. “… Do you trust me?”

“Dumb question, little brother.” Xaja raised an eyebrow at the Sith. “If I didn’t trust you, would I be sitting here?”

“Good point. Sit still for a minute.” Sorand approached and extended his hands to hover on either side of Xaja’s head. “This might be uncomfortable, considering how deep the damage is…”

Theron frowned worriedly as he watched Sorand move up. Xaja felt him squeeze her hand again. “Do you think you can heal it entirely?”

“Maybe. At the very least, I should get an idea of just how bad it is. A scan only does so much.” Sorand paused, then Force-called another chair to himself and sat down. “This might take a while.”

Xaja shuddered at the first sensation of cold trickling down from Sorand’s hands, under her skin and through her muscles, into her bones themselves. “Sorry,” Sorand muttered as he felt the shiver. “Jedi aren’t fans of Dark Side healing, are they?”

“I can’t afford to be picky, brother. Do what you need to do.”

“Okay.” The cold shifted, sinking further into her muscles and centering around her spine.  It then crawled up the column, seeping into her brain, where she  winced as it flooded over the inside of her skull. Sorand paused briefly over the bright point that was Theron. “Hmm, that’s interesting,” he mumbled as he continued his examination. “Not connected, but… huh.” He left the bond untouched, brushing against an area of Xaja’s mind that was dark and locked — all the memories that she had pushed away, shoved down where they couldn’t hurt her. But even the brush was enough to make her feel the terror of a seven-year-old girl as the Jedi Temple fell around her; the horror of a child pulling the trigger on a blaster and feeling a life in the Force vanish; the rage and fear and grief mingled from Vitiate’s station… Even the echo of the old Emperor’s presence made her shudder, a tear escaping her eyes. She felt Theron lift her hand through the fog and gently kiss it, his worry a tendril in the Force that she grasped and clung to for her own sanity.

“Sorry,” Sorand muttered again. The cold backed away from that part of Xaja’s mind, then went crept down her spine, spreading out through her nerves. “Whoa… that’s not good.” The Jedi hissed in pain as she felt what could be best described as a pinch, deep within one of her back muscles. “Okay, yeah, this is really going to hurt. I’m sorry, Xaja.”

And then her world erupted in pain. Starting at her spine and spreading outward like a terribly cold fire, it twisted everything it touched. Xaja couldn’t tell if the agony was due to the poison in her body, or the Dark Side being used so deeply within her, no matter how benevolent her brother’s purpose -- possibly some combination of the above. She bit down hard on her lip and tasted blood, tears trailing down her face. It was the pain of the Force-heals offered by Sorand or Lana on Rishi and Yavin, amplified numerous times over. She almost would have rather taken the carbonite poisoning seizures over this attempt at healing.

“Hold on.” Sorand’s voice sounded strained. “Think I might’ve found… something?…” There was a new burst of cold flame at the base of Xaja’s skull, drawing a whimper of pain. “If I can… oh, shit…”

Purple fire exploded across her vision, followed by blackness.

When she opened her eyes again, it was to Theron kneeling in front of her, hazel eyes wide with panic. “Kimble, I think she’s conscious,” he said as he frantically brushed his hands through her hair and over her face. “C’mon, sweetheart, look at me. Give me something, Xaja, please…”

“Theron?” Why was that one word so hard for her to say? Her entire mouth felt like it was made of heavy durasteel, and that was still preferable to the pulses of pain up and down her spine.

Theron sagged in relief, and was immediately shoved to the side as Doc knelt beside him. “Look at me, Red. How many fingers am I holding up?”

Xaja squinted around the pounding in her head. “… Three?…”

“Attagirl. You know where we are?”

Black walls and ceiling. Red accents everywhere. A woman in green beskar’gam crouching beside a tall, lanky man in black robes. Xaja blinked. “Dromund Kaas. Sorand… tried to heal me… carbonite poisoning…”

Doc sighed, the strain easing out of his shoulders somewhat. “Oh, good, you’re still with us. You’ve been unconscious for the better part of twenty minutes, and your brother only just came to a bit ago.”

“Told you it was gonna hurt,” Sorand interjected from his chair. He wearily sat up straighter, still looking like he was carrying the weight of the entire Empire on his shoulders, and seemed grateful for Shara helping him up. “Just didn’t think it was going to hit both of us like that.”

Xaja winced. “Sorry --”

“Don’t you even start. My idea, remember?” Sorand sighed and raked his hands through his hair. His nerftail had come loose, leaving his long dark hair free on his shoulders. “Don’t let me have ideas again.”

That earned a tired smirk from the Jedi. She gratefully leaned into Theron’s shoulder as the spy moved beside her and tried to grab for his hand, then paused when she saw the still-red marks on her skin. “What…”

“Yeah, you were holding onto Theron’s hand tightly enough that his gloves kinda left indents in your skin. I’m pretty sure he might’ve lost feeling in a couple fingers.” Doc offered a tight, worried smile.

“My hand’s fine,” Theron quickly said, and made a point of gently holding Xaja’s own hand in his palm. “Don’t worry about me, Xaja. I’m more concerned about you.” He looked at Sorand, his forehead creased. “What’d you figure out while you were in there?”

“So… bad news.” Sorand finally seemed to be regaining his composure. “It’s… yeah, it’s bad, beyond my skill to heal. I’m sorry, Xaja — I wish I could fix it all for you.” He grimaced at her in sympathy. “But, there’s a bit of good news: I think I might have slowed down the progression of the toxins, at least for a little while. And the damage is such that, in theory, if we had strong enough healers -- maybe a group of them -- we might be able to reverse it.”

That burst of hope almost made Xaja forget about the lingering pain. “Really? It’s reversible?”

“In theory. And we’d need a group of healers at least as strong as me, if not more so. It’s too much for one healer to fix on their own.” Sorand offered her a small smile. “We’ll find that group. I don’t care who I have to blackmail or order into it.”

“If we can find any Jedi healers still alive…” Theron muttered in thought as his other hand started stroking through Xaja’s hair. “I can’t see many Sith being willing to heal a Jedi even if ordered to.”

“There’s the Voss as an option. Or some Zakuulans have defected and turned traitor against the Eternal Throne. Perhaps there’s healers hidden there.” Sorand finally stood up, using Shara as a support. “We’ll find something, Xaja. I promise.”

#drastic measures #dromund kaas #korin finally gets a scene! #and he totally stole Tee-Seven #enter Hylo and Zenith and Vette! #Sorand is the best baby brother ever #Force-healing's a bitch #ow #the stakes are high #what do you mean I'm not as big a bounty as Agent Walking Disaster is?? #featuring dialogue written by Clan Piranha #we have a plan! #Theron is worth all the cookies #don't tell Spydad I said that #so much snark #all the snark #theron/xaja #and yes T7 will totally tattle on Korin to Xaja #Tee-Seven is a little brother in droid form

[keldae]

Drastic Measures (chapter five)

Doc had set up a respectable little makeshift clinic in his house: one narrow cot, a few precious containers of kolto, and whatever medical equipment he’d been able to purchase or steal. Humble? Sure. But Xaja had seen him do more with less before. It had been his daily existence on Balmorra, amidst swarms of giant insects. Pirates and ruffians on Rishi paled in comparison.

Xaja laid on the cot and watched Doc as he started running scans. Her dizziness had finally eased up with laying down and a small dose of whatever stim Doc administered, but her head still ached. That being said, she could almost ignore the lingering throbbing in her skull by focusing on her joy that Doc was here and alive and safe. She could also almost ignore Theron frowning as he leaned against the doorframe to watch, or Doc’s side-eye scowls at the spy. Apparently two years wasn’t enough for either of them to forget Doc’s unrequited romantic affections for the Jedi he traveled with, or how hard and fast Xaja and Theron had fallen for each other.

Fortunately, Doc wasn’t so focused on his rivalry with Theron that he would stoop to unprofessional behaviour where his patient was concerned -- especially this patient. “You said you were in carbonite?” he asked as he held a light into Xaja’s eyes, nodding in apparent satisfaction with whatever he saw.

“Yes, from about twenty minutes after arriving on Zakuul until Theron broke me out days ago.” Xaja fell silent as Doc carefully felt around her neck and jawline, frowned, and reached for his datapad to enter something in. “I’m not sure how they got Marr and I off of the ship alive.”

“There’s no way either of you should have survived. I watched that ship disintegrate.” Doc was uncharacteristically sombre. “We ran back to Coruscant and warned the Republic like you said to do, but nobody believed us, even with your brother backing us up --”

“Wait.” Xaja sat up despite her head swimming, her eyes widening. “Korin was…”

“Yeah. He got there just after we came under attack and protected the Serenity while we were stuck on that airlock. He followed us back to Coruscant when we ran since he thought-” Doc fell silent for a second. “He thought you were on board.”

“Oh, no…” Xaja felt her shoulders slump. Theron told her that Korin had all but lost his joviality and become grim and sober in the aftermath of Zakuul’s attack, but he hadn’t told her that her brother had watched the ship she was on fall apart under fire. “Did he… is he…”

“Back down.” Doc gently pushed at Xaja’s shoulder until she was on her back again so he could resume his examination. “I don’t know,” he said. “Korin kind of dropped off the face of the galaxy after Saresh told all of us to get the hell out of the Senate tower and called us all traitors to the Republic for allying with the head of the Dark Council --”

“Saresh did what?!” Xaja shot upright again, and was immediately greeted with a hand on her shoulder to firmly push her back down.

“I said down. Keep your heart rate down, you’re affecting the results of the scan I’ve got going on you.” Doc selected a syringe from a tray beside the cot and pulled it out of the sterile packaging with the efficiency of someone who’d done this countless times. “She was eating her words two days later when Arcann attacked the Core Worlds -- everywhere, all at once. Last I saw of your brother, he was taking back off from Coruscant after we got kicked out of the Senate. I’m not sure where he went.”

“He rendezvoused with your dad in the Mid-Rim,” Theron finally interjected. “I’ve caught up with him over the last couple of years. He’s okay, all things considered. As far as I’m aware, Darth Imperius and Cipher Nine are still alive too.”

“I guess Imperius dying would have been news even in Republic space.” Doc gently turned Xaja’s arm over and found a vein. “If Saresh knew your dad and little brother were an Imperial spy and another of the Dark Council…”

“Then I’d probably be kicked out of the Order, blacklisted across all of Republic space, and possibly die mysteriously.”

“Grand Master Shan liked you. She would have fought to keep you with the Jedi -- if, y’know, the Order was still functional.”

Xaja frowned as Doc expertly drew his blood sample and held a small wad of fabric against the puncture. “Theron did mention the Jedi were scattered after the war and the Order all but disbanded.”

“A lot of Jedi died in the fighting. Most of them took a few Zakuulans or Skytroopers down with them, but…” Doc sighed as he slipped the blood-filled syringe into a testing chamber. “Last I heard of Kira, she was helping some Padawans disappear, making sure there were at least a few Order survivors.”

“Did Lord Scourge help the Jedi at all, or did he return to Imperial space?”

“Not to the best of my knowledge for either.” Doc frowned at the results on his datapad, picked up a handheld scanner, and started his own manual analysis. “He just vanished one day; Rusk and I couldn’t figure out where he’d gone. Then Rusk got transferred back into the military, head of some specialized black-ops squad, and Tee-Seven’s ownership reverted to the Order. I’ve got no idea where either of them are now.”

Grief clenched itself around Xaja’s heart again as she looked at Theron’s sympathetic gaze, then at her hands, then back up at Doc. “How did you end up here?”

“There’s always people who get hurt or sick, and even more in wartime. While Coruscant was under siege, I was working in the Old Galactic Market with refugees and other stranded folks like me, and when the siege lifted, I caught the first transport offworld anywhere. Wound up world-hopping for a while until I landed here.” Doc sounded almost distracted as he frowned down at the scan results. “Been here for eight months now. Sit up and face away from me for a second.”

Xaja carefully sat back up and was pleased that the vertigo didn’t return this time. Her shoulders still slumped as she turned her back to Doc and heard the sound of the scanner moving up and down her back. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “If I’d been there…”

“I don’t think even you could have held off the Eternal Fleet by yourself, Red.” Doc lowered the scanner and squeezed her shoulder. “One Jedi against a horde of unstoppable warships… you’re good, but not that good.”

“That’s a kriffing chall-” Xaja hissed mid-word as her arm spasmed. “… ‘kay, you might have a point.”

Doc set the scanner down and tugged on Xaja’s shoulder to turn her back around. “If you hadn’t been frozen, you wouldn’t be having this problem,” he muttered as he took her arm and gingerly rubbed at the muscle.

Theron had stood up from leaning on the doorframe when Xaja’s arm seized, and now stood a couple of steps into the room at the foot of the cot. “What did they do to her?” he growled. Xaja had never heard him sound so protective. Hell, she’d never heard anyone that protective over her. She was usually the one doing the protecting.

Doc frowned at Theron, saw Xaja’s nod to give the diagnosis with the spy listening, and went back to his datapad once the Jedi’s arm had relaxed somewhat. “Most cases of carbonite sickness ease up within about forty-eight standard hours from the time of thawing. A lot of those symptoms are sensory: heightened sensitivity to sounds or lights, or dulled senses. Blindness shows up every so often too, but that usually goes away on its own.”

“I haven’t had any of those reactions,” Xaja said with a frown. “Maybe a bit of photo-sensitivity, but it’s been lightheadedness and muscle spasms and headaches. I can’t kriffing use the Force, Doc.”

“And something’s wrong with your ability to regulate your body temperature,” Theron added. “You keep showing signs of being cold, even if you’re not complaining about it. I think the only time you didn’t was in the direct sunlight when we got here.” Xaja quirked an eyebrow at her spy, then looked down at her slim frame, only now registering how she was holding her arms and legs close as though to preserve her body heat. Doc had made her take off her jacket for the examination, and now she wanted it back, despite Rishi’s heat.

“I’m not too familiar with Force-user illnesses -- we’d have to find a Jedi healer for that.” If any of them still live went unspoken in the room. “But the rest of your symptoms…” Doc looked up from his datapad, and Xaja felt her heart leap into her throat when she saw the grief in his eyes. “They botched your freezing.”

“What?” Xaja heard her pulse pounding in her ears, over the sound of Theron reaching a hand out to her shoulder supportingly.

“You’re showing symptoms of severe carbonite poisoning. A little bit might have been expected from a normal freezing, even if you’d been there for a decade or longer, but this much poisoning in only two years suggests that your carbonization process was flawed. Obviously the Zaks didn’t kark up badly enough to kill you right away, but… it’s affecting your neurological system. The muscle spasms, the dizziness, constantly feeling cold -- and chances are, your inability to use the Force right now -- they’re all stemming from significant damage to your nervous system.”

Doc sat down in a chair and ran his hands through his neatly-combed dark hair. “If Sha- if Theron had rescued you much later, it probably would have been too late to save you, unless he’d had a cure on-hand to give you the second you were out. As it is, if left untreated…”

Xaja looked over at Theron to see his hazel eyes wide with horror, then back at Doc. She was barely aware of her hand reaching up to Theron’s on her shoulder and gripping his fingers tightly. “But there is a cure for this? It’s treatable, right?”

Doc didn’t answer for a long moment, and Xaja felt a thrill of fear run through her when he finally spoke again, his voice low and heavy. “I can slow down the progression of the damage, maybe stop the symptoms temporarily. But with what I’ve got available to me, I can’t fully stop it or repair the damage that’s already done. There is a cure for carbonite poisoning, but it’s incredibly difficult to make or find. Even before the war, it would have cost millions of credits.”

“And now?” Theron’s voice was tight, almost as tight as his grip on Xaja’s hand.

“Now, you could probably ransom a small moon with it.” Doc looked back up at them and Xaja wanted to cry when she saw the despair in her friend’s eyes. “I can try to make a workaround for this, but with damage this extensive…” He abruptly stood up again and moved to one of the storage cabinets against the wall. “At the least, I can keep the symptoms at bay and slow the damage until we can get our hands on a permanent cure.”

Xaja looked back at Theron, then at Doc again. “What about Force-healing? If we can find a skilled Jedi healer -- or Hells, even a Sith healer -- could they do something?”

“They’d have to be damn good at what they do to fix this.” Doc’s mustache twitched as he thought. “Then again, an exceptionally well-trained healer might be able to undo some of the damage that’s already been done. If we can find any of the Jedi survivors…” He came back around to Xaja’s side with a handful of stims and drugs in hand. “Okay, sit tight, this is probably going to sting a bit.”

“It can’t be worse than the spasms,” Xaja mumbled as she gingerly rubbed her abdomen where the spasm had made her stop breathing only a few hours ago. “Do your worst.”

“With you? Never. What kinda doctor do you think I am?” Doc almost sounded teasing as usual then. “Does the SIS have any leads on where the rest of the Jedi might be hiding?” he asked with a pointed look at Theron.

The spy shrugged. “If they do, I’m not privy to it. I’m not exactly with the SIS anymore. It’s a long story.”

“You what?” Doc stared up at Theron for a second, then shook his head. “I don’t wanna know. Can you find out about Jedi survivors anyway?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Theron let go of Xaja’s hand with a final squeeze and stooped to kiss her cheek. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered. Xaja could tell he was trying to be brave for her. “We’re not giving up, no matter what.” He gave her a small, if worried, smile as he stepped back out through the doorway, already pulling his datapad off his belt.

Doc shook his head again as Theron’s back vanished down the hallway, then started administering the medication to his patient. “Okay, first up’s for the vertigo and the headaches, and then this one’s ‘cause I know the first one will make you nauseous.” There was silence for a few seconds as the drugs were injected into Xaja’s bloodstream, then Doc spoke again. “So… you and him still have that thing going?”

Xaja nodded and tried not to wince as a third syringe was emptied into her arm. “Yeah, it is. He’d apparently been thinking of me the entire time I was gone, and I’m still not sure how he found me to get me out.”

“Hmm. He either makes you smile without caring who sees it, or he’s the reason you stop smiling. No middle ground with this one, hmm?”

“Ziost wasn’t his fault. Neither is this.” Xaja watched as Doc readied another medicine-loaded syringe. “Please tell me that one’s not for my leg…”

“I could, but you never cared for lying. You know the drill. Why you’re with a professional liar still confuses me.”

“Theron’s not -- okay, yeah, he’s a spy, but he would never lie to me.” Xaja lowered her trousers down enough for her hip to be accessible and yelped as the needle found its mark -- no matter how many times Doc had done that on her over their years of traveling together, it still hurt and she still hated it. Doc muttered an apology as he finished administering the medication. “So… two years gone. I’m half surprised there’s no lady around for your affections.”

Doc shrugged and didn’t meet her eyes as he put the empty syringes away. “Had a couple of flings, but nothing felt right. I’ve been keeping myself busy here with the clinic -- there’s always lots of people who need a doctor. Besides, the busier I am… the less I can think. Hurts less that way.”

Xaja reached over and grabbed Doc’s hand, making him freeze in mid-motion. “I thought you all were dead,” she quietly said. “When Theron said he hadn’t been able to locate any of you… I thought I lost my best friends.”

“We weren’t gonna die nearly that easy, not while we had to make sure you lived on somehow.” Doc squeezed her hand and gave Xaja a small, but genuine smile. “If I made it, I’m sure everyone else did too. We’ll find them.”

“The galaxy would have been a worse place without you in it.” Xaja returned the smile. “You’ve always been one of my best friends, Doc -- I’m glad you’re all right.”

“Wouldn’t have minded being more than ‘best friends’, but I’m not looking to get murdered in my sleep by the current boyfriend for trying it. At least he’s better than Kota was.” Doc finally let go of Xaja’s hand and resumed putting away his medical equipment. “Okay, the doses I gave you should hold you for a few days, but I’ll need to keep re-administering it to make sure you stay alive. I don’t know how well you’ll be able to use the Force, but you should be able to function otherwise.”

“Thank you so much, Doc.”

“Anytime, Red. It’s the least I can do to have you back and alive.”

Theron wasn’t expecting to be greeted with several notifications of mail, most of it marked urgent. He frowned and tapped the notification to bring up the messages, putting aside his search for Jedi survivors for the moment. Nobody should have been sending anything to me while I was in hyperspace. Korin knew I was on comm silence, and nobody else knew where I was- why are most of the messages from him or my father, and even one from my mother? Did something happen?

His outbox was blinking too. Theron’s frown deepened. I didn’t send any messages! He tapped on the icon to figure out what was wrong... then saw the cheery notification of his timed messages being automatically sent right on schedule, three entire standard days ago. He felt the blood drain from his face. “Fuck,” he whispered as his heart stopped for a second. Oh no. Oh nooooo. I forgot about the suicide notes. Oh, fuck, Korin’s going to kill me if my parents don’t first…

He quickly pulled up the tab to compose a message to his parents and best friend, but was interrupted by the sound of something large and heavy smashing into Kimble’s front door. The datapad went back onto his belt as he ran back toward the entrance of the clinic, nearly colliding with Kimble as the medic hurried in the same direction. “Who’d you piss off this time, Kimble?” the spy asked as he drew a blaster.

“Hey, some of us don’t go around actively getting into trouble, Shan. Everyone in Raider’s Cove loves me… I think.” Kimble poked his head around the corner and winced when he saw how badly dented his front door was. “That’s gonna be an expensive repair bill.”

The door shuddered again as a heavy fist pounded against it. “You got ten seconds to open this door, Doc, or we’re comin’ in!” The voice was rough and loud, with a tone that hinted its owner was quite used to bellowing orders.

“Hey, hey!” Kimble yelled back at the intruders. “I’m happy to give you medical attention, but form a kriffing line and wait your turn, dammit!”

“We don’t want no medical things! We want them two you’re hiding in there!”

Theron exchanged a worried look with Kimble, seeing the doctor’s eyebrows go up as he shouted his response. “Haven’t you heard of patient confidentiality? I’m not clearing my patients to leave my care or have visitors.”

“You think you’re gettin’ a choice in the matter? We’re takin’ the girl an’ the guy with her, an’ maybe we won’t shoot you on the way out. You ain’t worth fifty million credits like they are, but maybe we’ll see if someone wants you dead too.”

Kimble’s eyes bulged as Theron felt his heart thud in his throat. “Wait, how much?”

“Fifty mil. Each. You let us in, maybe we’ll cut you a bit of that.”

There was a moment of stunned silence before Kimble looked at Theron. “Who the hell did you piss off this time?” he lowly hissed at the spy.

“I didn’t even blow anything up, and the Zaks shouldn’t have been able to identify me!” Theron whispered as he started edging backwards. “You got a back exit?”

“What kind of an overly-trusting idiot do you think I am?” Kimble raised his voice. “Gimme a bit. You morons wrecked my door and it’ll be a pain getting it open.”

“We’ll be here, doc. You can buy a whole new door after we’re done.”

“Delightful.” Kimble engaged the secondary lock on the door, then turned and hurried back down the corridor with Theron. “They’re gonna catch on soon,” he muttered. “Down the hallway, in the sublevels, the code to access the basement is 3-7-9-1-2-0. It’ll dump us out on the beach itself. Get Xaja out of here while I grab my gear.”

“How much gear do you need?” Theron asked as they rounded the corner into the clinic. Xaja was sitting up on the cot, already looking less weak and frail, but pale now with worry.

“To keep her alive? A lot.” Kimble opened up one of the storage lockers and retrieved an old rucksack, which he started filling with his medical gear.

“What’s going on?” Xaja stood up from the cot, looking back and forth between Theron and Kimble. “Did the Zakuulans catch up?”

“Someone did,” Theron said as he tossed the Jedi her jacket, then handed her the twin lightsabers. “Either the Zaks or someone else who’d pay fifty million for your head.”

“And yours,” Kimble helpfully added as he dived into another storage unit.

“Wait, what?” Xaja’s eyes went wide as she attached one lightsaber to her belt, but kept the other one in her hand. “Fifty million each?”

“Apparently.” Theron looked over his shoulder at the sounds of another thud against the mangled front door. “How much more do you need to grab, Kimble?”

“How about my kriffing credsticks?” Kimble ran out the clinic door and hauled ass toward his living quarters. He returned in under a minute. “Let’s move before --” He cringed at the sound of the door splintering. “That.”

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever agreed with you on anything,” Theron muttered as he followed the doctor and Xaja toward the sublevel access. The feeling of his datapad bumping against his hip reminded him of his grievous error, but he didn’t have time to call his parents or Korin to reassure them he wasn’t dead. At least he had enough experience with forming messages on the run that he could send a short note through his implant connection. Not dead yet. Can’t talk, will explain later. Sorry. T.

The sounds of booted feet clicking on the floor of the Citadel echoed through the cavernous hallways, red banners on the walls doing little to absorb the echo. Normally Lana disliked the audible sign of her approaching presence to anyone who might be listening, but today, she didn’t care. Her focus was given less to who could hear her coming and more to the news she carried.

She wasn’t stopped by any of Darth Imperius’ guards as she marched into his private office. With he, Vowrawn, and Acina being the only survivors of the Dark Council, she considered him her direct superior. Sith didn’t generally trust others, especially not other Sith, but they also did not generally charge into another’s office in the middle of a Taungsday with homicidal intent. It helped, too, that Lana knew Imperius well.

The tall human looked over from his holocom conversation as Lana entered his office, his brow furrowing in a puzzled frown. He’d all but given up on wearing Kallig’s mask, and he’d pushed his hood back. The light revealed a tired face, long brown hair in a nerftail, and lines under his eyes. “You know the plan and your orders, Andronikos. Contact me with any developments.” The little blue hologram of Captain Revel vanished, and Imperius looked back toward Lana. “I thought you’d left to investigate the new resistance cell that you heard rumours of on Ryloth.”

“I still plan on heading out soon,” Lana said as she extended a datapad, and tried to ignore how her hand was shaking. “But this just came through on Intelligence’s networks… you need to see it.”

“From my father directly?” The man known to perhaps two dozen people in the galaxy as Sorand Taerich accepted the datapad with a frown and pulled open the file.

“No. I haven’t had any updates from your father since he met up with your brother and the resistance cell on Tatooine. I’ve forwarded this to him as well, and I expect he’ll want to take a personal look into it.” Lana clasped her hands in front of her and waited, having to force herself to not fidget like a mere acolyte.

“Huh.” Sorand leaned back in his chair and scrolled through the message. “A terrorist attacking the Spire and running off with the so-called Outlander assassin? I’d thought the assassin was a myth.” He blinked as he read further. “Fifty million credits says apparently not.” He looked up at Lana. “So, it is possible for someone to strike Zakuul deeply enough to spook Arcann. This is good news.”

“Keep reading. The fifty million credit bounty on each of their heads isn’t why I ran back here to show you this.”

Sorand frowned, then tapped the datapad to bring up the rest of the message. Lana watched as the other Sith’s face suddenly fell slack, his eyes bulging, and face draining of all colour. “Impossible…” he whispered. He looked back up, as startled as Lana had ever seen him. “When did this come in?”

“I received it half an hour ago. Our sources date it as only two days old. This intel is fresh.” Lana frowned at the datapad. “I thought your father had said that Theron Shan was dead, according to your brother.”

“So did I. Either Theron’s still alive or he’s got a twin somewhere. But kriff Theron…” Sorand looked back at the datapad, then at Lana again. “My sister’s alive?”

“Unless she has an exact lookalike somewhere, it appears that she is not only alive, but the Outlander assassin herself.”

Sorand set the datapad on the desk and ran his hands through his hair, disbelief and shock and maybe hope revealed on his face. “She…” He abruptly stood up. “I need to contact my father and make sure he’s heard this. You haven’t heard any reports of where they might have escaped to?”

“Not yet.” Lana fell into step beside Sorand as he hurried for the more secure holo console. “But the resistance group on Ryloth is rumoured to have Zakuulan defectors within it -- perhaps they can tell us more about your sister.”

“Good. I’ll let my wife know about the new bounty posting. She may be able to get her people looking for them to protect them.”

“Are you sure there aren’t Mandalorians who would try to collect on one of those bounties themselves?” Lana asked with a concerned frown.

“None with any sort of self preservation instinct. Shara would shoot them for trying, if I didn’t get to them first. I think most of them know that.” Sorand’s smile was predatory in nature. “Confirm the presence of any Zakuulan defectors with the Rylothian resistance. If they’re not with that group, keep looking until you track them down. Let me know if there’s anything you require.”

“A clone,” Lana deadpanned, and Sorand snorted. “Thank you, my lord -- you and your father will be the first I contact with any new information.”

Sorand nodded. “Good luck. May the Force guide you.” He started tapping in the codes for a secure transmission to his father as Lana hurried back down the corridor, and made sure the room was closed and private before the old agent answered the call. “Dad, I don’t know if you’ve seen Lana’s new intel, but it’s big…”

Reanden disconnected the call with his younger son and sat down hard on a chair, running his hands over his face. He didn’t want to entertain the hope that his missing daughter might be alive, years after her disappearance; a second bout with such heartbreak would kill him, or so he felt. It was too risky to assume that Xaja might still be alive. But Lana’s intel seemed to check out, and Sorand certainly seemed to believe it.

The old Cipher pulled up the transcript of the bounty posting and studied the two attached images of the supposed assassin and terrorist, currently leading Zakuul’s Most Wanted list. They weren’t the greatest of images, clearly taken from security cameras as the two fugitives escaped the Spire, but they were clear enough to show faces. Yes, the male did resemble Theron Shan, down to the implants and the stupid hairstyle. Terrorism and attacking civilians isn’t Shan’s style though. Unless he’s actually gone completely off the deep end, not just rogue. His contacts in the SIS had confirmed that Shan quit his job and vanished from Coruscant only a couple of weeks after the siege ended, over a year ago. This was the first solid rumour as to where he’d gone since then. (And oh, how Kothe had been ready to punch the younger agent, ex-Jedi or not.)

The woman with him… The hair was right. The facial structure was correct. The fact that she apparently stood head and shoulders shorter than her male cohort was a point in her favour. The worried frown on her face… it could have been his wife’s expression. Even the armour resembled what she’d reportedly been wearing when she’d been killed. A ghost? No, a ghost wouldn’t show up on a security camera. He couldn’t confirm it without seeing the girl in person, but she resembled his missing daughter so closely, his heart ached within his chest. Xaja…

He needed to see her in the flesh to confirm if this was an impostor or if Xaja had somehow survived the destruction of Darth Marr’s ship. A quick strokes into an encrypted channel sent a ping out to his extensive network of contacts and spies in the galaxy. Attached were images of what looked like the identical twins of Xaja Taerich and Theron Shan, and a message: Need any news on these two for their protection. Compensation will be arranged.

Within minutes, he received answering pings from his contacts on various planets. Nothing seen yet on Nar Shaddaa or Hutta… a possible resemblance on Denon… then one from Rishi. Male target sighted. Inquiring re: medic for wife (?). Unconfirmed sighting of female target.

Shan wouldn’t have gotten married -- the boy’s a diehard bachelor. ‘Wife’ must be a cover. If that is Xaja with him… is she ill or injured? Why would Shan be asking about a medic for her? Reanden’s eyes narrowed in thought, then glanced down at another ping, this one from Corellia. No sighting yet. Targets subject of bounty posting from Zakuul. Advise speed if you want them alive. 50 mil spends well.

Fierfek. Reanden shot to his feet and plugged in Korin’s holo frequency as he started typing in the coordinates for Rishi. “Are you sure Theron’s dead?” he asked as soon as his older son answered the call.

“I tried sending messages to his account. He never answered them or picked up a holocall.” Korin still sounded despondent over his friend’s supposed suicide. “Why do you ask?”

“Take a look at the file I’m sending you.” Reanden sat back and waited while Korin accepted the transmission and pulled open the file on his datapad. The younger man froze, paling visibly. “Breathe, son.”

“How… that’s not… both of them?!” Korin dropped the datapad and raked his fingers through his messy hair, then snatched it back up to stare at the images. “Kriff. That’s him, unless he’s got a twin somewhere. And Xaja…”

There was a sudden series of excited beeps, and Reanden frowned as a familiar looking astromech came into range of the holo. “Is that her droid?”

“Oh. Yeah. I, uh…” Korin shifted uncomfortably. “I may or may not have stolen Tee-Seven from the Order. It wasn’t like Xaja was using him… dammit, that means I’ll have to give him back if that’s actually her.” Tee-Seven beeped his excitement.

“Whether or not they actually are Xaja and Theron,” Reanden said as he shook his head at his son’s actions and prepped his hyperdrive for a jump, “they’re both worth fifty million credits to that half-metal pain in the ass on Zakuul. We need to find them first if we’re going to get our answers.”

“I’ll put out feelers with my miscreant buddies. Pays to know most of the underworld.” Korin put the datapad back down and turned to start plugging at his navicomputer. “I’m due to be making a supply run for the cell soon anyway. Got a friend who considers herself queen of the underworld, so she’ll know things sooner than we will. What’s your plan?”

“One of my contacts claims to have seen Theron on Rishi. I’m heading over to investigate.”

“Yeeesh. Rishi’s not going to be dangerous at all for them with that kind of money on their heads and pirates everywhere.”

“Let’s hope most of those pirates hate Zakuul more than they love credits.” Reanden knew that was a long shot, but it was still a tiny hope. “I should be there within a few hours. Keep trying to raise Theron on comms and let me know if-” He frowned as the cheery ping of a new text message suddenly sounded. “Was that yours or mine?”

“Mine.” Korin opened up the message and froze, the expressions on his face shifting from shock to disbelief to confusion to joy to pure, unadulterated fury in the space of about two seconds. “I’m going to kill him.”

“What?”

“Dad, would you not say it’s a bit more polite to say more than ‘Not dead, can’t talk, chat later’ when one’s just faked his suicide and then rocked up on the other side of the galaxy? By the way, I can confirm Theron at least is alive, or will be until I get my hands on his kriffing neck.”

“The idiot.” Reanden sighed and shook his head. “I’ll punch him for you if I catch them first.”

“Please do. Good luck.”

“You too. Happy hunting.” The agent disconnected the call and jumped to hyperspace, the Shadow disappearing among the stars. Shan, if that’s actually you, I’m going to sit back and let Korin strangle you to death. Xaja, if you’re alive… I’m coming, baby girl. Stay alive until I get there.

#drastic measures #dun dun duuuuuuuun #theron/xaja #Theron Shan x Jedi Knight #oh the angst #Doc is the bearer of bad news #and Xaja is the most expensive girlfriend ever apparently #this is what happens when Theron's left in charge of anything #Zakuul's Most Wanted #and Lana finally shows up! #and Clan Taerich's now involved! #the daddy feels from Reanden #and yes Korin totally stole T7 #Xaja's gonna be maaaaad #Clan Taerich #KOTFE AU #alternate universe

[keldae]

Drastic Measures (Chapter Four)

Carbonite had not been a dreamless sleep, nor had it involved the regular, mundane dreams of a normal person. Xaja had spent the entire nightmare sequence running, and fighting… watching her crew be cut down by Skytroopers while she stood by, helpless to interfere; seeing the life fade out of Master Satele’s eyes as her twin blades pierced the Grand Master through the stomach; striking down Darth Imperius and watching Cipher Nine and the Voidhound both draw blasters on her- that one had made her scream in the nightmare as she’d fallen back from her baby brother’s robe-clad body, his eyes staring up at her accusingly. Master Satele’s execution at her hand could be chalked up as a nightmare that Valkorion- Vitiate- whateverthehellhisnamewas’s lingering voice in her mind seemed to bring about. But the murder of her little brother? Her father and other brother drawing weapons on her? That was a step too far.

The dream shifted, and Xaja stood in a dark chamber, adorned with red banners. A blonde-haired woman bent over a desk piled high with reports, golden eyes looking drained of the will to fight. Lana? Another shift- she was in a narrow alley, and a dark-haired man was walking past her, pausing long enough to set a charge on the wall. He lingered long enough to pull a detonator out of his pocket and turn it over in his hands contemplatively, and Xaja screamed Theron’s name. Don’t do this, Theron, please don’t!

Theron stubbornly shook his head and moved his thumb over the trigger button, and the nightmare shifted. She stood on Ziost’s ashes, and Vitiate’s spectre loomed ahead of her. He opened his mouth to say something, then suddenly looked up as the planet started to crumble around them, fury darkening his expression. Xaja whirled as Ziost fell into darkness, dragging her down with it, down down down-

Her eyes flashed open, and she had to fight to not throw up. Just a dream… just a dream… carbonite makes you dream weird things. You’d never kill Sorand or Master Satele. Theron would never do… that. She couldn’t bring herself to name what she suspected the Theron in her dream had been doing. And that dream ended when you fell into Theron’s arms- literally. The Emperor’s dead, he can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe, you’re with Theron, you’re okay… She craned her neck to take a look down at her rebellious body and frowned. Mostly okay. Maybe.

It was their third day in hyperspace, fleeing as far from Zakuul as Theron could push his shuttle’s fuel supply. Xaja had come to the conclusion during the second day that something was wrong; when the dizziness hadn’t gone away even after eating and resting, when her muscles kept seizing painfully, when her head ached if she tried to meditate for longer than a few minutes. Her connection to the Force felt fuzzy and weak, and she was pretty sure that wasn’t due to being in hyperspace.

If she was worried, Theron was terrified and valiantly trying to hide it. He’d spent the time pacing between the navicomputer, the pilot’s console, and Xaja’s side, apparently afraid to take his eyes off of her. His original plan had been to help her vanish somewhere in Hutt Space where he was reasonably sure there were a few exiled Jedi survivors hiding out; now he was considering detouring somewhere along the way to find a medic or a healer who wouldn’t ask too many questions. “Most people coming out of carbonite don’t have symptoms like this days after being thawed,” he’d said while she’d been fending off another muscle spasm in her shoulder. “Any side effects should have gone away within the first forty-eight hours. These are just getting worse.” Xaja didn’t want to know how Theron knew so much about carbonite sickness. It was probably something he’d come across during his career as a spy, but she really didn’t want to think about it.

She very carefully stood up from the chair she’d been sitting in and held onto the headrest until the wave of dizziness had past. Maybe if I can get some sunlight and fresh air, it’ll help with at least the vertigo? The Jedi carefully made her way through the shuttle to the pilot’s chair and wrapped her arms around Theron’s shoulders from behind. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” Theron looked up and smiled, although there was tension in his mouth and eyes that Xaja couldn’t loosen from him. He reached up and took her hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. “How are you feeling?”

“Nothing’s twitching and my head’s not exploding, so better.” Xaja brushed a kiss over Theron’s temple, just above his implants. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Some.” The bags under Theron’s eyes indicated that he was probably lying. He looked away from Xaja’s skeptically-raised eyebrow and back to the hyperspace tunnel that they’d been flying through for three days. “We’re well into the distant Outer Rim. Zakuul does have a reach out here, but it’s less than in other regions. With any luck, we’ll be able to stay off of Arcann’s radar.”

“Do you think he’ll put up a public notice about us?” Xaja asked with a worried frown.

“On the one hand, he’s never said anything about keeping you as a prisoner, so most of the galaxy thinks you’re already dead. On the other side, I get the feeling he’d do just about anything to recapture you and save face.” Theron frowned in contemplation. “Even if there’s no public bounty postings or arrest warrants, he’ll have agents hidden throughout the galaxy. He’s not just gonna let this slide, Xaja- you’re going to be hunted, one way or another.”

“Hmmph.” Xaja rested her cheek against Theron’s hair and twitched her nose as his fauxhawk tickled her skin. “And the only way I’m getting out of that will be to work out a truce or take Arcann down myself.”

“I don’t think he’ll be keen on negotiating.” Theron sighed and squeezed her hands again. “Well, you’ve already killed his father twice, and Revan once, plus a few other particularly-powerful Sith and a handful of giant rancors, survived bickering with two members of the Dark Council at the same time, and yelled at Saresh to her face. Wiping the floor with one half-metal tyrant shouldn’t be a problem for you.” He looked back at her for that and grinned.

Xaja laughed, although the laugh suddenly turned into a wheeze as another spasm tore through her slim frame. Her diaphragm contracted painfully, making her double over and struggle to breathe. Theron’s grin fell off his face as he lurched out of his seat and grabbed her arms. “Xaja, breathe. Where is it hitting now?”

The redhead pressed her hand against her ribcage and tried to not panic as her lungs refused to cooperate with her. “Can’t…” she gasped out. “Breathe…”

Theron loudly swore as Xaja felt herself fall to her knees, and dropped with her. “No, don’t you do this to me, not now!” He held his hand against her abdomen where Xaja had indicated and tried to ease the painful spasm that had frozen her chest entirely. “Stay with me, I’m not losing you! Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe…”

How could she breathe when it felt like her lungs were being encased in carbonite again? Xaja clung to Theron’s shoulders and tried to gasp in another bit of air. It hurt, and her lungs refused to budge enough for her to breathe properly, and she could see blackness growing at the edges of her vision. Theron swore again, and Xaja could hear the panic in his voice as she felt herself being laid on her back. “No, no, no, don’t do this! I can’t lose you now!” She could see his eyes, wide with fear, but it was through a rapidly narrowing tunnel as his hands gave up on her abdomen and tilted her head back, and she felt his mouth cover hers…

Pain flashed through her lungs as air was forced into her chest and her body remembered how to breathe. Xaja gasped as her lungs finally kicked in, gratefully gulping in precious air and only coughing some of it back out. Her head pounded, and not from the persistent vertigo. Theron stared down at her for a few seconds, as though to make sure she was actually breathing on her own and not dying on him, before he all but snatched her up and held her tightly against his chest. “You’re okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you. Oh, don’t do that to me again…” he mumbled into her hair, his words turning into a nonsensical stream of relieved sounds.

Xaja finally reached up and clung to his arms, burying her head against his neck. “Sorry,” she finally whispered when her breath finally stabilized. She could feel herself shaking like a leaf- or was that Theron shaking as he held her?

“Don’t be.” Theron stubbornly shook his head. “Just… don’t ever do that to me again.” He pulled back to look at her, and his face was ashen when he kissed her and stood up, moving over to the navicomputer. “This just changed our plans…”

“Force, I hope that was just a one-time freak occurrence.” Xaja leaned against the side of the chair and shakily focused on breathing while she watched Theron typing into the console.

“And if it’s not? What if the next one hits your heart instead? What if you don’t recover from the next one?” Theron looked back at Xaja, the fear in his eyes painfully obvious. “You need a doctor, now. Rishi’s the closest inhabited planet to us- we might find someone there.”

“You really think we’ll find someone on Rishi?”

“Hey, even pirates get sick too, right? There’s gotta be somebody.”

Raider’s Cove was still the hopping little outpost it had been when Xaja had last seen it years ago. If anything, she mused as she stepped off the shuttle, it was even busier. Apparently Rishi was becoming a haven for those seeking to stay the hell off Zakuul’s radar. “If all else fails, maybe we can hide in one of the Revanite bases,” she said with a cheeky smirk.

Theron just rolled his eyes at that. “Very funny.”

“What? Remember how hard it was to find their base the last time?”

“No, because I was in the base itself while you were looking for it. First class priority transport and everything. I think they threw me in a crate…”

“… Sorry.”

“’S okay.” Theron wrapped an arm around Xaja’s shoulders and kissed her hair. Anyone watching closely might have noticed that the gesture was as much to keep her upright and against him as it was affectionate. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah. The sunlight feels good.” Xaja tilted her head back to let the sunshine warm her fair skin, feeling a small smile creep over her face. She could barely remember the last time she’d simply been able to stand still and revel in the feeling of sunlight on her skin and warming her hair, or breathe in a gentle, warm breeze (okay, the breeze on Rishi was constantly humid and was already making her hair frizz, but that was beside the point). When was that- when I was back on Tython before getting the summons from Marr? Or that one quick stop we had to make on Coruscant- that sunlight totally counted. Or even the last time I was on Rishi full stop?… how could that have been almost three years ago? The reminder of her two lost years in carbonite sent a pang through her chest.

Theron gave her shoulders a squeeze. “I’ll try to make sure you have every opportunity to enjoy it. You’ve missed out on more than your fair share.” He started walking down the wooden plank-built pedestrian ramps, and Xaja followed along. “Rishi’s turning into the Nar Shaddaa of this section of space. There’s always traffic of the legal and not-so-legal varieties here, and with that comes information and refugees. Odds are there’s bound to be at least one decent medic around here.”

“And if there’s not?” Xaja asked, trying to hide the worry she felt at the idea. She hadn’t had another bad muscle seizure that had nearly killed her (although the lightheadedness and comparatively-minor cramping wouldn’t ease up), but the memory of suffocating as her body rebelled and feeling herself fading out as Theron fought to save her still made her fearful of another attack.

Theron’s mouth tightened grimly. “Then we keep moving until we find someone. I don’t care if that means sneaking onto Dromund Kaas, there has to be someone who knows how to fix whatever this is. Are you sure you don’t remember the Knights injecting you with something before freezing you or making you breathe something or anything like that?”

“I think I would have remembered that if it had happened.” Then again, her memory was proving fuzzy- small details were escaping her recollection more than she wanted to admit. “Maybe I’m just allergic to carbonite?”

“Is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. I’m just throwing out guesses here.” Xaja slipped her arm around Theron’s waist as they started walking through the marketplace. There were several hawkers out selling their wares, and Xaja couldn’t help but give some of the clothing items a longing look. Her clothes were clean and she was wearing them again, but she desperately wanted a change of clothing that would fit her more than Theron’s oversized tee-shirts would.

Theron followed her gaze and nodded. “We’ll get you set up with some new things- sooner than later. Having a different outfit might throw any pursuit off you, at least for a bit.” He let go of her shoulders and slipped a cred stick into her pocket. “Are you gonna be okay by yourself?”

“I should be.” Xaja absently patted the cred stick’s location and made a mental vow to repay Theron somehow for everything. The Zakuulans certainly hadn’t left her with her own credits when they’d frozen her… if nothing else, she’d find a way to mysteriously make a large number of credits appear in Theron’s accounts someday. “I’ll let you know if I’m in trouble.”

“With what comm?” Theron asked, his brow furrowing.

Xaja nearly kicked herself for forgetting she didn’t have her comm anymore, then lightly tapped at her forehead. “If this is okay?” A Jedi could use the Force to contact another, and Xaja was skilled enough with telepathy to be able to reach a Force-blind mind, but Theron had spent his entire life learning how to block that skill. And she wasn’t about to go forcing her way into his mind to get his attention, not when he’d risked everything for her and they had that trust built between them.

The spy hesitated, then slowly nodded. “That’s okay when it’s coming from you. I won’t be far in any case- I’ll poke around and see what I can pull up on a doctor. Yell if you need me.”

“Will do.” Xaja stretched up and kissed Theron’s cheek, earning a smile from him, then headed in the direction of the vendors, leaving Theron to go talk to some of the other locals. Twenty minutes later, she had swapped out her old clothing for a new outfit, sporting a lightly-armoured nondescript jacket that covered her lightsaber hilts, and was walking back out to the causeway. She didn’t see Theron’s bright red jacket anywhere, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything- the colours of the crowd meant that even that jacket could blend in here. She called the Force to herself, grit her teeth against the pressure in her brain that spawned with that, and cast out, seeking the familiar point of light that was him.

There, a few dozen metres away, near to another few lights that were other sentient beings Xaja was unfamiliar with. She barely had time to get the general direction of Theron’s Force-signature before the pain overrode her senses and her connection to the Force fumbled. Oww. Oh, that’s not good. Being in a carbonite coma for two years shouldn’t have… oh, that hurt… what’s a Jedi without the Force? She had the presence of mind to slip behind a stack of crates and out of sight before sinking to her knees as the pain throbbed through her head and all the way down her spine. Breathe. Breathe…

The sharp, stabbing pain in the back of Theron’s head made him flinch, interrupting the conversation he’d been having with a couple of the locals. One, a Korun smuggler who’d decided to set up shop as a bartender, frowned. “Y’ a’right thar? Thought it was your wife ‘s what’s sick.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Theron grunted as he rubbed the back of his head. “Haven’t been sleepin’ well with takin’ care of her an’ all.” Maybe that’s all that was, sleep deprivation. Hopefully once they’d found someone, he’d be able to rest without being terrified of Xaja ceasing to breathe again while he slept. “You sayin’ there’s a medic around what fixes almost everything?”

“Yeh. Th’ doc, he’s good people.” The Korun’s buddy, a curvy, attractive Twi’lek woman, nodded affirmation. “He don’t charge folks what can’t pay for a normal doctor, or gives ‘em a deal, an’ don’t let himself get pushed around none by the gangs out here. An’ I ain’t seen a case yet he ain’t fixed. Whatever’s wrong with yer wife, he’ll fix ‘er up.”

“Thanks.” Theron stepped away from the pair, thinking. They were the third and fourth people to recommend a particular doctor who lived up near the beach, down the way a bit from the Blaster’s Path. There’d been mention of a couple of other passable medics around, but nobody who’d borne as much positive reputation as this doctor. It’s worth a shot. If he takes charity cases, maybe we can convince him to stay silent if he finds out who Xaja is. Blast, it was hard to think around this headache piercing his brain; he focused his mind with an old Jedi meditation trick, trying to accept the pain and let it fade.

It didn’t budge. When Theron frowned and focused on the pain, it felt foreign and yet familiar, like he knew it and yet… it was not his own. What- Xaja? Feeling his heart leap into his throat, he walked back in the direction he’d left Xaja in, focusing. The pain shifted, started to feel like a tug in a particular direction; he dodged around a couple of lazily strolling Rishii natives and rounded a corner, then saw the bright hair behind a pile of crates. “Xaja?” he quietly asked as he crouched in front of her and gently touched her shoulder. Yes, this was the source of the pain he’d felt- what the hell did you do? “What happened?”

Xaja looked up at Theron for a second before looking back down. “So, bad news,” she whispered as she tried to push herself back upright- Theron caught her shoulders before she could move and gently started stroking her hair. “Apparently using the Force isn’t an option anymore.” She winced and leaned into Theron’s touch, pain twisting her features. “Oww.”

“… Oh, kriffing hell, sweetheart.” Theron gently kissed her forehead and frowned, wishing he could do something to make her pain ease. “Just breathe, okay? I’m right here. I might’ve found a good doctor, too- at least he’s got a good reputation around here. We’ll go find him when you think you can stand up.”

“Give me a minute?” Xaja reached up and clung to Theron’s shoulders for a long moment. “I’m trying to not throw up on you.”

“That’s very appreciated,” Theron tried to tease around his worry. “Breathe. Don’t worry about the Force, we’ll see if the doctor can fix your connection to it. If he can’t, we’ll figure something out.” It took several long minutes more before he finally felt Xaja shift to stand up, and made it upright with only a little bit of swaying and leaning on him for support. “Any better at all?”

Xaja started to nod, then thought better of moving her head more than strictly necessary. “No? Yes? It’s hard to tell. I’m upright?”

“That’s a start,” Theron agreed, and tried to hide his concern as he slid his arm back around Xaja’s shoulders and pulled her close against him. “It’s a bit of a walk, but no rush. We’ll take as long as you need to get there.” And I’ll carry you if I have to.

“Okay.” Xaja managed a little smile up at Theron as she leaned into his side and started slowly walking with him. She’d managed to put up enough of a mental shield to spare Theron the brunt of her pain, but he could still sense it radiating from her, and was just impressed she was walking at all. But that mental bond he seemed to have with her, where he could feel her presence in his head as clearly as he could with his body… that gave him questions. How did she form a bond like that with me when I can’t feel the Force at all and she can barely touch it right now?…

“Heh, that one’s a pretty little thing,” mused a burly Zabrak as he and his Togruta buddy skulked in the shadows, comparing notes on the appealing-looking targets they saw in the marketplace. “You don’t see hair like that much at all.”

“Mmm, yeah, an’ her face ain’t bad either.” The Togruta nodded in agreement. “She’d get us a good price on Hutta or Nar Shaddaa.”

“Almost a pity, really,” the Zabrak said. “I’d wanna keep a piece that sweet.”

“No one said we can’t test-ride the new ones first,” the Togruta slaver agreed with a wolfish grin. They watched the pretty redhead slip behind some crates and out of sight. “I gotta see what the Hutts’ll pay for a girl like that.”

“Yeah, you do that. I’m gonna sit here an’ think of how to train this one.” The Zabrak grinned in anticipation as he thought about the pretty redhaired human, and almost missed the human man slipping around the crate to follow her like he knew where she’d gone. “Hmm. We might have t’ kill her boy to get at her-”

“We ain’t sellin’ her to the Hutts,” the Togruta suddenly interrupted, his eyes bulging.

“That mean we���re keepin’ her for us?” The Zabrak’s teeth flashed in a predatory grin.

“No, lookit here.” The Togruta passed over his datapad. “See?”

“Ugh, ‘s from Zakuul, what’re you-”

“Read it, idiot!”

The Zabrak scowled, but the frown turned into a dropped jaw. “The hell’d that girl do t’ make His Royal Assholeness so mad at her? Ain’t no way a pretty little thing like her could be some assassin.”

“Dunno, not our problem.” The Togruta squinted intently as the two humans came out onto the causeway and headed up toward the town proper, the man with his arm protectively around the girl. “An’ lookit the guy with her!”

The Zabrak looked at the images of the two fugitives from Zakuul, then at the couple they were eyeballing. “A hun’red million credits is a nice, tidy sum… an’ two hun’red million credits is even sweeter.”

“An’ there weren’t no condition made of ‘em bein’ in good shape when we sell ‘em to the Zaks. She’ll still gets lots a’ playtime.”

“This is the best day I’ve had in years.” The Zabrak cruelly grinned and stepped out of the shadows. “Go get the boss an’ tell ‘im we just got the payday of our lives. I’ll follow ‘em.”

Xaja was trying so hard to act like she was all right and not draw attention to herself or Theron by visibly betraying her illness. But Theron could feel her grip on his jacket tightening and see her jaw clenching against pain, or feel her leaning into him for support, or trembling under his arm. “Need to stop again?” he murmured as they walked past a large, shady palm tree.

“You said the doctor’s close?” Xaja sounded almost normal, if Theron ignored the tense tone to her voice or how weak she sounded. That migraine was still pounding through her head, and he could sense it. “Let’s just get there. I can make it.”

“Okay.” Theron was dubious that his stubborn little Jedi could actually stay upright and functional for the two hundred more metres the medic was supposed to be found at, but it would draw a lot of attention if he simply picked her up and carried her. It’ll also get attention if she faints or has another spasm, he inwardly mused. It’s still morning, too early for what looks like socially acceptable intoxication.

Then again, this was Rishi, and he suspected people here drank more alcohol than they did water or caf. Maybe he could pass Xaja off as being drunk or high off some classified stimulant if questioned.

The pair slowly made their way to the door that had been identified already as the doctor’s lodgings. Theron walked up, noting Xaja barely staying upright beside him. “Almost there,” he murmured as he squeezed her shoulders comfortingly. “Almost there.”

“I still owe you,” Xaja mumbled as she let Theron tug her into the alcove protecting the door from the elements. “For everything.”

“No, you don’t.” Theron shook his head and guided her to lean against the wall of the alcove. “Hang tight for a sec, I’ll check this guy out before he gets at you.” He raised a hand and knocked at the door, watching Xaja out of the corner of his eye as she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. The tug in his mind that felt like her indicated she was dizzy and still fending off that killer headache, and standing purely on willpower and the support of the wall. I wish I could make this better for you right now…

The door opened, and Theron’s eyes started bulging with the first words he heard in a voice he’d never expected to hear again. “The doctor is in! What can I do for- you!” The other man’s jaw clenched, mustache all but bristling. “You’ve got a hell of a nerve, Shan.”

“Nice to see you too,” Theron growled out. “Miss me?”

Archiban Frodrick Kimble glared at the spy, his hand twitching to where he still carried a blaster pistol on his hip. “It’s not bad enough that you decided to drag Xa- Master Tae- her into your family argument-”

“Hey, the Revanite incident was not my fault! I didn’t ask for a batshit psycho ancestor to-”

“- Then you dragged her to Ziost- and you know how badly that karked her up mentally? She didn’t smile ever after that!”

“Listen, I know I kriffed up there, but-”

“And then she went off on that stars-damned chase and died with the Imps she’d spent her entire life fighting, and where were you to talk her out of it or to back her up?”

“That’s not-! Listen, Kimble, she’s-”

“It’s taken me this long to get over her dying, Shan, and seeing you…”

“Is this about how she turned you down for the fourth time after meeting me?”

“This is not about that, don’t change the subject!”

“Then let me get back to why I’m here, dammit!”

“I do not care if you’re dying of some slow and incurable disease, or if you’ve got a flimsi cut.” Kimble made to slam the door shut. “Go kriff yourself.”

“I’m not the one who needs help!” Theron got his foot and hand in the way of the door, and before the medic could draw his blaster, the spy had reached out for Xaja, and tried to swallow his fear when she struggled to lift her head. She’d been a bit more focused on not passing out than on listening to the argument. “She is!”

Kimble opened his mouth to snarl something else at Theron, then took a look at the tiny redhead in the spy’s company and went white. “No… you’re dead. She’s dead. Not possible.” He whipped around to glare at Theron again. “The hell type of a sick joke are you trying to pull, Shan? I saw that ship go down, there’s no way-”

Xaja finally managed to raise her head and make eye contact with her former crewmember, and Theron lightly shifted his weight to give her a more sturdy support to lean on. “Doc?” she whispered, her eyes widening. “You’re alive?”

Kimble numbly shook his head, grief and denial and maybe a little bit of hope flashing through his eyes. “You can’t be. We looked for you for an entire kriffing year before we gave up…”

“I was in carbonite until less than a week ago.” Xaja offered a weak smile. “I’m not dead- not yet anyway.”

“You’re…” Kimble took a step forward, then froze. “Prove it. How do I know you aren’t-”

“Archiban Frodrick Kimble!” Xaja managed to give him a scowl as Kimble’s eyes widened. “What reason would Theron have to show you an imposter? If that logic’s not enough, I know you take your caf black and intravenously, you secretly love romance holo-flicks, and spent longer in the ‘fresher in the mornings than Kira and I did. Combined.” She was almost standing upright on her own by the time she’d finished telling him off.

“… The mustache takes work, you know.”

“I never understood how one mustache requires more effort than detangling long hair.”

“Neither did Kira.” Kimble finally broke down and lunged forward to catch Xaja in a tight hug. “For kriff’s sake...” He sounded like he was trying to hold back tears.

Xaja clung back to Kimble, and Theron tried to not feel a little possessive- or a little worried when he saw her trembling. “I missed you, Doc.”

“We thought you were gone,” Kimble whispered. “Even Scourge, and we… the invasion… and we didn’t have you to keep us together…”

“I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to not die on-” As though waiting for a perfectly ironic moment, Xaja’s right leg gave out; Theron could almost see the muscle spasm through her pant leg. The Jedi yelped in pain and would have fallen had Theron not jumped in to grab her from behind and Kimble not adjusted to hold her up from the front. “Ow…”

“She’s sick, Kimble,” Theron confessed as the doctor as the other man’s face went pale behind the mustache. “She’s been sick as hell since I rescued her off Zakuul, and I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Kimble looked up at Theron’s words, then back down at Xaja. His brow furrowed in thought, but his lips were twitching in the old charismatic, cocky smirk that Theron remembered from the entire Revanite incident years ago. “Come inside… both of you,” he finally added the last part to Theron when Xaja raised her head to give him a pointed look. “Ol’ Doc will get you fixed up, Red. Just like old times, right?”

#drastic measures #alternate universe #KOTFE AU #Theron/Xaja #Theron Shan x Jedi Knight #ANGST! #Near death experiences! #carbonite poisoning is a bitch #poor Theron is going to have a heart attack #if Xaja doesn't die from carbonite poisoning first #Doc is gonna be the awkward jealous third-wheel #Theron's totally going to accidentally start a war #whooops #Back to Rishi! #random npc bad guys be up to no good #will take all the excuses for drama #mwahahahaha #I wouldn't actually kill my own baby OC... or would I? #Foreshadowing #dun dun duuuuuuuun #Oh Xaja if only you knew what Theron was up to... #not just a nightmare sweetie!