Waiting - Chapter 1
Fuck this bar. This band needed to take a long walk off a short space dock, second hand instruments and all, and the bartender should hurry up and die of "complications due to alcoholism" or whatever the nice way to said he drank himself into a stupor he never woke up from was. Upon review, after my first five minutes waiting, I realized the band, though not good, were at least honestly trying their best and thus did not deserve my ire. However the bartender, an over large Twi'lek man, had been staring at my cleavage for four minutes and thirty seconds of the five minutes I had been here. He deserved every bad thing that happened to him in his shitty life as far as I was concerned. Might be my fault for wearing what I was but I didn't care about his opinion.
I was looking for a beat up orange jacket on a brown haired man. I didn't actually know if that is what he is going to be wearing. I had not seen Carth in five years, with our luck of getting into trouble involving explosions I wouldn't be surprised if that jacket had been gone for a long time. Our luck⦠Hadn't been our luck in a long time. Just his luck and mine. Separate entities of fate, maybe mine was the bad Karma and he had had no close encounters of the exploding kind since I left. Good news for the possible survival for that ratty old jacket. Bad news for my continued existence of not getting blown up.
I got another drink from the creep manning the bar and this time payed extra to not get stiffed. What is this world coming to when you had to pay extra to get a decent drink. I needed to keep my wits about me, but if I didn't drink this one I thought my head might explode from the bundle of nerves telling me to run. I had not been this exposed since I became a target for the Gar'un. Which I still didn't understand the reason why assassins were attacking me every time I go to ground. The only way to stay safe is to keep moving. After this most recent close call on the Outer Rim I decided I finally needed back up. I couldn't just walk up and expect him to drop everything and fix my problems, but I could get information from Carth. He was high enough in the Republic Fleet that he had access I need to take the fight to this crazy cult. Being encircled in the Republic High Command meant I didn't have to worry about his safety either. If these guys could infiltrate a Battle Cruiser or Space Station to get to him then they were more powerful then I imagined and we were all screwed anyway.
But, thats not the only reason I need the drink to steady myself. The words I said when I left keep playing in my head. "I will be back soon" is the most egregious of the lies I spoke that day. Though not everything was a lie. When I told him I loved him, when I told him it was more important to help start rebuilding the galaxy then it was to come with me, those were not lies. But everything else was. I couldn't tell him the truth. He would have either, not let me go alone, or he would have started to hate me. Hate me like I had started to hate myself.
We had had barely any time together. After what Mission refers to as "The Beach Kiss", we flew up to the Sky Forge and ended the war. We were both beat up pretty bad and needed Kolto treatments, which lasted awhile. Then it was a nonstop barrage of bureaucracy, Jedi Council bull shit, and Republic Command pomp and circumstance. We were hardly ever alone and the council was always watching. We both wanted time to figure us out and that is the one thing we were never given.
We resorted to stealing moments together. An hour in the garden where no one could find us, touching and tasting. Fifteen minutes behind the stage at another damn ceremony, Carth knew how upset I had been. He wrapped his arms around me from behind supporting me without reservation. Letting me steal his strength so I could go and face the thousands of eyes watching, eyes of those that probably had friends and family that I had murdered or lead to their deaths.
That last night before I had left I had slipped into his room around midnight avoiding my "protectors" the council had set at my door. I woke him up as I entered and raised a finger to my lips for him to be silent. Surprise had been evident on his face until I had started to take off my clothes at the foot of his bed. Then there was an entirely different expression. Desire had clouded his eyes as they burned their way down the path my hands had made removing my robe. Neither of us said anything, we didn't have too. We both moved together meeting in the middle of his bed with a searing kiss. We explored each other all night, finally not caring that the Jedi would know I had broken another one of their sacred tenants. All I wanted was to be with Carth. The morning had come to quickly. As he had looked into my eyes lying tangled in the sheets with light filtering in my heart started to break.
One thing had been made abundantly clear. Carth couldn't stop saying was how glad he was I wasn't Revan. Not that I had changed, repented, or made amends. Not that I had learned from my past mistakes and saw with clear eyes the pain my previous path had wrought and decided to do what was right and good. No, he insisted that I simply was not her any more, a different person. Insisting that there was nothing left of the darkness I could feel seeping up within me. Carth wasn't in love with me, he was in love with the figment of imagination the woman I was before I regained my memories. Cassi.
Nursing my drink, waiting for him to walk through those doors, I realized I want him to be angry. The nervousness I felt is not for the anger that is well deserved, it is for the possibility he still cared for me. The woman he loved is not real. And if he still loves her what hope is there for me? I had factored in the nerves when I contacted Carth originally. Nerves and awkwardness were expected. We were adults and it would be fine. Unless he was planning to arrest me. That could be a problem.
What I didn't factor was the pain in my chest the second I saw him walk through the turbo lift door. He hadn't seen me yet which was good. I was obscured on the other side of the hated bartender, who due to my studious disregard had shifted to only ogling me half the time. That gave me a couple seconds to watch him. I needed to be calm for this. I couldn't let him see how vulnerable he really made me feel.
He still looked good. He was out of uniform and I was sad to see no jacket but the long brown flight jacket and darker olive brown mechanics pants suited him well. If you completely disregarded his military bearing, the way his eyes scanned immediately for threats and alternative exits, and the fact that he was carrying two heavy blasters with an aura that said he knew how to use them, you could believe he was just an average guy out for a drink on his night off at his favorite on station dive bar. Then our eyes met and it felt like I had been hit in the chest with a hammer. He looked away first, motioning with his head to a booth in the corner. Good defensive position, I should not have expected anything less. I threw back the rest of my drink with a flourish and flipped the glass around as I set in on the counter. Here goes nothing.
