Let's call it an experiment... Written just for fun.

Spoilers for the Smuggler storyline; don't read until you've finished Chapter 3. Really, really don't. Like, spoilers start from the very beginning of the fic.

I

Risha, ever the diplomat, had expressed her opinion outright, but in the end had not interfered with Mhyra's choice. She had just grimaced, disappointment plain on her face, but had not even bothered with a warning shot. She had not liked Mhyra's decision, but she had accepted it.

Well, at least it had seemed so. Until they got back to Wheel of Fortune.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

Mhyra just shrugged. "I went to a ship going to fly into a black hole to recover some lost treasure, then I agreed to work for the Republic, I fought a couple of Sith warriors and an infamous Imperial admiral, and I made peace with Rogun the Butcher. Oh, and I've got a Mandalorian mercenary, a soldier boy, a failed Jedi padawan and a crime lord's daughter in my crew. To think of it, I might be out my mind. Well, sometimes it really seems that Bowdaar is the only one sane person here."

Risha put her hands on her hips. "That slimy son of a Hutt used you, tricked you into working for the Empire..."

"Risha, you don't care whom I work for, as long as there are credits involved."

"The Empire is bad for modest entrepreneurs like us, you've said that yourself," Risha shot back immediately. "Blast it, Mhyra, he tried to kill you."

"So did Rogun. And Ivory. And—"

"Good grief, you really liked him." Risha raised her eyebrows. "Please, tell me I'm imagining things, because you can't be that stupid..."

Mhyra sighed. The revelations hadn't been nice, certainly. But in the underworld business, you quickly learned to forget, because credits did not make themselves, and brooding over the past didn't pay off. You remembered, you learned, you didn't dwell on it. She knew she shouldn't have trusted Darmas, and than being comfortable made her less careful, but that wasn't going to happen ever again.

And she certainly didn't want to make it a big deal. No blasted way. Over her dead body. Mhyra caught herself and smiled self-mockingly. Yeah, had she not been such a good shot, that might have been the case.

Risha scowled. "It's not funny."

"Trust me, Risha, I'll never make a mistake like that again."

"You let the scum go."

"That—" Mhyra's first instinct was to find an excuse, but she changed her mind immediately. She made a mistake, she had to face the consequences. No big deal. "That might've been a bit impulsive on my part."

"A bit?" Risha snorted.

"It'll do him no good. I've heard that the Empire is not very forgiving when it comes to failures, and this failure was nothing short of spectacular."

"Poetic justice, eh?" Risha did not seem quite convinced, but left it at that. "Well, at least he gave us some information in exchange for his life. Who knows, some of it might even be useful."

Mhyra decided she could be honest. They've been through a lot, and Risha proved a true friend, one of the best she'd had in years.

"I wanted to shoot him, you know." She walked over to the drinks locker and took out a bottle of fine wine – a souvenir from Alderaan – and two glasses. "But I think the information he gave was worth his life, considering... considering. Well, the Republic certainly seems to think so." She smiled mockingly.

The whole plan had been masterfully crafted, she had to admit that, but ultimately it had failed, and she doubted Darmas Pollaran – or whatever his real name was– would get a warm welcome back in the Empire. At best, he might be pardoned. Mhyra shook her head, pouring the wine for Risha and then for herself.

"You offered to help him escape on our ship. Well, your ship," Risha corrected herself. "On your ship."

Mhyra smiled dreamily. "I could give him over to Rogun... Or the guys back on Coruscant... Or... Ahh, so many wonderful possibilities."

Risha shrugged, probably realising that any further attempts at talking some sense into her friend would be pointless. "Well, at least we still have Port Nowhere." She swirled her glass, then took a sip of the wine. "I wonder what you'll find in that locker, you know. If it doesn't blow in your face, that is."

A couple of hours and couple of bottles later, when Risha got up – a bit unsteadily – to return to her cabin, she stopped for a moment and looked back at Mhyra. "I'm sorry, you know. That things turned out that way."

Mhyra smiled back at her friend. "Appreciated. And now go to sleep, because that's as mushy as I'm ever going to get over it."

When Risha left, Mhyra stared down at the glass in her hand, wanting to hurl it at the wall. And maybe a bottle or two. Instead, she just sighed. The wine stains and the broken glass would require too much explaining.

When she returned to her own cabin, for a moment she contemplated breaking the intricate holo sculpture she had kept at her desk. Then, with emotions giving way to reason, she decided to sell it, and not even at the lowest possible price, as her wounded pride demanded. She might as well make some profit from it all, at least.

One way or another, she had to get rid of it. Right now, she did not want anything that would remind her of Darmas Pollaran. And not only because she was furious at him.

On Corellia, she had asked him to give her a reason to justify sparing his life... But, in truth, although she would never admit it aloud, he had already given her that reason just before she had asked.

He had shot at her, true. But he had not killed her, had not even hurt her. She might have the quickest hands in the galaxy, but she had faced Imperial agents before – and their aim was flawless. And Darmas had intentionally missed, she was sure of that. Or maybe it had not been quite intentional, maybe it had been involuntary, but he had missed – and she had understood the importance of that fact even back then. He had missed, and he had given her much more time that she had needed to draw her blasters.

So, despite his orders, for some reason he had not wanted to kill her. And she could not simply forget that.

It all felt... strange. She was not accustomed to such feelings, and she didn't like them, not one bit. At first, she had beeen furious, and she had been fine with that. But it had quickly given way to something else.

She wasn't sad, not really. She hadn't been in love with him... but there had been a connection. Blast it, they had been good for each other, they had worked together perfectly. And she kind of missed that. The easiness of that relationship, the laughter.

She could have kept adventuring, and returning to Port Nowhere now and then, and he could have kept gathering and selling information and playing cards. It could have worked brilliantly – a comfortable, easy arrangement, with lots of fun involved.

Mhyra did not need a husband, or a man who would do anything for her, or who would change for her, like Corso wanted. Not even someone who would share her vision of the world in its entirety. Just someone who'd understand her. And Darmas had. Blast it, they could have been partners. They had worked so well together...

And most of it had never even been true. She felt... not disillusioned, but disappointed. And bitter, for some reason. Maybe because he had told her that not everything had been a lie. She would've been fine with a lie, really – she would've been angry, sure, but ultimately she would have know there was nothing to regret, because it hadn't been real, so in the end, she would've lost nothing. But she knew it had not been just a lie, and the loss, however small, was real.

And Mhyra was not certain what to do with that.

. . .

On the way to Port Nowhere, she had thought of the blasted locker many times. She expected to find many things in there: a worthless trinket, a mocking message, or even nothing at all. Then she gave up guessing, knowing where it had gotten her before. Darmas Pollaran had been many things, but predictable had never been one of them.

Now she stared at one of the databases, displayed on the computer screen. Contacts, locations, trade routes, star charts, hideouts, allies, enemies, strengths and weaknesses. A complete database on most members of the Migrant Merchants Guild.

Mhyra smiled. Stared. Smiled wider.

"You have a plan. Something wicked and twisted, and I have a feeling I'm going to love it," Risha remarked, leaning more comfortably into the chair she was sitting in.

"We now have Port Nowhere, and means of contacting most of the guys from the Guild... And I wonder how they will react when they learn they've been used to profit the Empire."

Risha huffed. "Not that they care who they work for..."

It didn't seem possible, but Mhyra's smile widened further. "But they care if they know about it. They weren't given a choice. They were deceived. And I don't think they're going to like it."

"So even if the Empire will pardon him, the slimy son of a Hutt is going to have the Republic and the Guild on his tail... Oh, now that's just too precious." Risha laughed quietly. "Poetic justice."

"Of course, if there was a reward for finding him, that might get the job done even more quickly."

Risha laughed. "You are devious, you know that?"

"I try."

For a moment, Risha grew more serious. "Wouldn't you rather kill him yourself, after all?"

"I wanted to, you know." Mhyra's fingers danced over the keyboard as she copied the files. "But then I began thinking. And I decided I'd rather let him live. And let him know that I know he lives, and where, and that I can find him and kill him any day. And let him know all the nice guys from the Guild are hunting him. And see how he'll enjoy his life."

Truth to be told, Mhyra still wanted to kill him, from the moment she had glimpsed the password to his locker for the first time. If he had meant it as some kind of a joke, she did not find it funny. Not even mildly amusing. Still, given an opportunity, she would probably not be able to kill him – he would escape before she decided whether she wanted to kill him quickly, or slowly and painfully.

She had destroyed the code as soon as she had learned it. At first, she wanted to change it, but in the end she left it as it was, as a reminder and a warning. Tatooine sunset.

She expected to have her fun and leave. A bit of fun was one thing, but actually staying the night was quite another. Risky business, more often than not, and, on principle, Mhyra never did it.

She liked Darmas immediately, for his elaborate compliments and how they showed he was not dead serious about himself, how he knew his words were a bit cheesy and far too grand, how he seemed to be soundlessly laughing at it all, just as she was, and how he enjoyed the game. His confidence was bordering on arrogance, true, but he was suave enough to make it seem amusing rather than annoying. He might have posed as a gentleman, but he was a scoundrel through and through. Just as she was. Scoundrels were great fun, but not necessarily the people to be trusted.

So she expected a few more witty lines, some laughter, and then putting on her clothes, walking out and going about her business. She didn't expected Darmas to trust her enough to invite her to stay, because that was a thing one simply did not do in their business. As someone with considerable experience in the matter, he certainly should not do it.

"I was wrong about the sunset thing," Darmas muttered, smiling lazily.

Mhyra raised an eyebrow."Oh?"

He lightly tapped her cheek with his finger, as if examining a rare, delicate and very precious piece of art. "You, my dear, are as radiant as Tatooine suns at noon."

She grinned. "Blinding, you mean?"

"Quite so." And then he loosely wrapped an arm around her and fell asleep.

Mhyra stifled a laugh, amused by their banter and by the way he behaved, casually, as if it was a most natural thing that they should sleep together. After a moment she grew more serious and simply smiled. Neither of them was a person suited for serious words, nor for romantic confessions, not even for commitment. But the fact he simply fell asleep at her side was proof of his trust.

Still smiling, Mhyra yawned, ready to fall asleep, too. Trust for trust. And the Killik-silk bed sheets were by no means a discouragement. And if it all was just an elaborate plot to kill her, well, there were much worse ways of going down than in a comfortable bed, after a very nice and entertaining evening. Most people in her professions never lived long enough to see their retirement, anyway.

. . .

When he was sitting at the card table, it was easy to mistake him for a man too soft for the outlaw world, too groomed. But he seemed fun, and for Mhyra that was enough.

And, to his credit, she had to admit that he was fun. Even more than she anticipated – they were just well suited for each other. And Mhyra was curious to see what that acquaintance could turn into. Marriage and family were not her things, and neither was love. But friendship – well, that was another thing. And partnership. She was not going to fall in love with Darmas – she was not the type to fall in love with anything else than that beautiful feel of freedom when she set course for yet another planet – but she could see them becoming partners, someday, eventually. If he proved to be a good investment of her time.

Trust, though, was an entirely different matter. Mhyra was slow to trust, and always cautious – and it helped her immensely in business. But she did not trust Darmas, not yet, at least. There was a lot he was not telling, but it was obvious, and Mhyra didn't actually have anything against it – basically because she kept a lot of things to herself, too. Though she supposed he could make a few guesses, as could she.

For one, he was too well-built for someone spending his days at the sabacc table. He wasn't as muscular as Corso, more of a lean and wiry type, but it was clear he didn't look like that thanks to sabacc. So Mhyra guessed it was rather thanks to hunting people who either tried to cheat him or did not pay their debts. Which was fine by her, really. If you started playing cards for serious, you knew the risks, and if you tried to cheat, you asked for trouble. Simple. She really liked the world she lived in for its simplicity.

"So," she asked lazily, moving her hand along his arm and then across his chest, down to his stomach, "got all this from playing sabacc?"

Darmas laughed. "Depends on which kind of sabacc you mean, sweetheart."

She lightly swatted him on the shoulder. "Now, do you only think of one thing?"

"Sabacc," he answered, managing to keep his face straight for a moment, and they both laughed.

"I was asking, not joking," she corrected, her moves lazy and words soft. She was still a little sleepy, but content – waking up with an agreeable man, after a really nice evening – well, she could think of no better way to make a morning better. "You don't get that much in shape from playing cards." She shrugged. "Can't blame a woman for being curious."

"Curiosity killed the nexu cub." Darmas smiled. "If you're hoping for an interesting story, sweetheart, I have none. Nothing you don't know from your personal experience, at least. Running your own little, ah, business, requires certain skills. As does getting your money from people who owe you."

"Oh, come on." She leaned closer, almost close enough for a kiss. "I'm not asking for details. Just for some more funny stories. I know you have them."

Darmas smiled at her briefly. "Not many funny stories there, sweetheart, trust me. But I can think of one or two you'll enjoy... Ah, later. By the stars, sweetheart... you've got the fastest hands this side of the galaxy..."

Mhyra laughed. "All sides of the galaxy," she whispered, before kissing him.

She was not quite a dedicated player, but she'd always liked sabacc. Both types.