Years of military training had conditioned Lieutenant Pierce to wake at the slightest sound when necessary, but since entering Lord Torilya's service, he had rarely needed to sleep "on alert," as he called it - at least, not while aboard her ship. Tonight, though, he found himself only able to doze lightly, unable to shake the uneasiness that permeated the ship. He thumped his head back into his pillow and cracked his beefy knuckles, then gave into his racing thoughts and tried to piece together the events of the last several days.
Quinn had disappeared abruptly a couple of days ago, saying only that "his lord required his services elsewhere" and that he'd return soon. The Sith had been tightlipped on the matter, snapping pettishly at Vette to drop it when she pressed for details, but Pierce knew it had to be related to whatever had happened on the transponder station a week prior. Quinn had stumbled back onto the ship a full twenty minutes before their lord, obviously injured and looking positively green, but would only say - in an unusually raspy voice - that their mission was complete before retreating to the med bay and pulling the door shut. Pierce had started after him to demand an explanation and details regarding Torilya's whereabouts, but Jaesa had stopped him.
"I don't know exactly what's happening, Pierce, but I sense that digging for details now will serve none of us well," she'd said, uncharacteristically calmly. "Best to at least wait for Master to return. She is close by; I can feel her."
Pierce studied Jaesa's yellow eyes for a moment before exhaling roughly. "All right, but if he's done something stupid…" he trailed off, not finishing his threat.
Jaesa had merely nodded before going back to the holoterminal to continue her so-called research on potential "disloyal" Sith. Just when Pierce had decided to go look for her, Torilya appeared at the ship's airlock, her hood pulled low over her face. Vette rushed to her side, but the Sith waved her off, barking a vague order at no one in particular to get them to the Fleet before disappearing into her quarters and sealing the door. Vette had looked stunned, but collected herself quickly and scampered to the bridge to plot their course.
The days following had been unusually quiet on the Fury. Normally the ship was a hub of activity between Lord Torilya doing training exercises with Jaesa in the cargo hold or gabbing loudly in the lounge area with Vette, the two of them sometimes ganging up on Quinn to give him a hard time, much to Pierce's delight. Quinn had not emerged from the medbay other than to make the occasional trip to the refresher, thereby skipping the intimate breakfasts at the small table tucked into the galley corner that had become routine for him and Torilya to share. Even Broonmark seemed to move more cautiously, warbling menacingly at anyone who started to approach Torilya's door when she was sequestered behind it. She moved about the ship on occasion to take care of some business and sat with the crew to mechanically eat the meals Vette forced on her, but had otherwise taken to spending most of her time in her quarters.
Finally, after a few days of this, Torilya had risen early one morning and stalked into the medbay, using the Force to blow the latch on the door. A low, tense conversation ensued between her and Quinn, and when Torilya emerged some moments later, she looked Pierce in the eye for the first time since she had returned from the transponder station as he passed by her on his way to do his morning workout in the cargo hold. Pierce had to quickly school his expression to hide his surprise at what he saw: Though Torilya had always walked a fairly dark path, she had never borne physical evidence of it, something Pierce had always attributed to her extraordinary strength and discipline in the Force. Unlike most Sith he had known, she seemed to use her emotions to work in tandem with the Force, always strictly in control, rather than straining to bend it to her will or allowing it to consume her. Now, however, her eyes flashed orange at him rather than their usual bright green, and her skin had taken on a darkish pallor around them, making the effect all the more intense.
"M'lord," he'd greeted her, nodding deferentially as he always did.
She'd paused for a moment before drawing a deep breath. "Better get used to calling me 'Wrath,' Pierce," she said, her tone clipped but without real rebuke. "Once I take Baras down, it will be necessary to maintain a certain image before the Council."
"Understood, sir," he'd quipped, snapping a salute and grinning rakishly at her, hoping to elicit a smirk. She'd merely nodded at him and continued to the galley, where Vette was waiting to ambush her with a hot breakfast and cup of caff. Quinn had departed an hour later, looking healed but unkempt, something Pierce had never thought he'd see from the uptight Captain.
Since that morning, Torilya - Wrath, he mentally corrected himself, rolling over once again in his bunk - had been a bit more herself, though without her usual dry sense of humor. They were currently still docked at the Fleet; Too-Vee had been working round the clock to coordinate upgrading and repairing their armor, performing maintenance on the ship, and putting the trashed medbay back to rights, laying in plenty of extra supplies before heading to Corellia to meet Darth Vowrawn, "just in case," Vette had said.
He'd overheard Jaesa attempting to coax Torilya into venturing off the ship to Vaiken's small cantina earlier that evening, but she had given up fairly quickly and headed down alone, scantily dressed, with a "don't wait up!" tossed casually over her shoulder as she breezed out the airlock. Normally Pierce might have followed her down in hopes of at least some entertainment, if not an easy score, but he felt he should stay close to the ship that night, though he wasn't really sure why. Broonmark had ventured off to hunt, never content to sit idle long, assuring them he'd meet up with them by the time they made it to Corellia "to claim victory for Sith clan." That had left him with Vette and Wrath, and the two women had spent most of the evening quietly watching holovids in the lounge, sharing a bottle of Tarisian wine. Pierce sat to the side, cleaning his rifle and nursing a large mug of Corellian ale. Torilya had retired early, leaving her glass of wine half-finished. Vette had looked at Pierce, shrugged, and tossed back the leftovers before wandering somewhat unsteadily to her bunk.
Pierce was snapped out of his musings by a muffled thud. He was alert in an instant, sitting up in his bunk and placing a hand on the sidearm that was always under his pillow. Another thud brought him to his feet at the door to his quarters. After one more, he silently slid the door open and crept out into the corridor, making his way toward the airlock first before realizing that the sound was actually coming from the cargo hold. When he got to the doorway, he was taken aback at the sight before him - Torilya, in sleep pants and a thin camisole, had just demolished all three training dummies in the hold with her lightsaber, and was posed in a defensive stance among the pieces, the deep orange blade casting an eerie light on her face in the dark hold. As Pierce hesitated in the doorway, not sure whether he should speak to her, she suddenly flung her lightsaber aside and leapt at the head of one of the dummies that had rolled to the far corner of the hold. She kicked at it viciously, sending it bouncing off the wall and flying straight at Pierce, who snatched it out of the air instinctively. Only then did his presence seem to register to her.
"I am sorry, Lieutenant, if I woke you," she spat, her eyes flashing. "I could not sleep and thought I would do some" - her voice faltered as she looked around, seeming to notice the destruction for the first time - "training," she finished, her shoulders sinking a bit as she kept her gaze at the floor.
Pierce did not respond immediately, unsure of how to proceed. He had never seen his lord look defeated, and seeing her before him like this, barely contained, he was unnerved.
"I couldn't sleep either, m'lord," the usual honorific slipping out before he caught himself. Bollocks! he cursed himself inwardly, grimacing.
Torilya's head snapped up. "I told you not to call me that any longer!" she growled. Her eyes were wild again, almost glowing. "Do you not understand? I do NOT want to hear that… that…" she trailed off, her voice once again cracking.
Pierce found himself dropping the dummy's head that he still held and stepping toward her instinctively, though he didn't know to what end. To let her strike him? To comfort her? He began to sink as if to come to a knee before her, but she caught his arm roughly, her hand barely large enough to cup the underside of his massive elbow.
"Gods damn it, Pierce, don't grovel! It isn't fitting of an Imperial officer!" Torilya all but shrieked, her voice becoming shrill now. He looked down at her hand on his arm, noticing the knuckles ripped open and bleeding.
"If you want to punch things, you at least ought to let me tape your hands properly for you," he surprised himself by saying.
She blinked at him, clearly taken aback. He boldly stared into her eyes, figuring he was probably already screwed, so why not? He reached for her other hand, flipping it in his to examine the knuckles there.
"Come on. We've enough crap in the medbay to last us a year, thanks to Vette. I'm sure we can find some tape in there," he said, starting to back out into the corridor, her hand still trapped in his. Suddenly, she yanked it back with enough force to pull him off balance, ducking as she flipped him over her shoulder and onto his back.
"Don't tell me I caught you unawares, Lieutenant," she jeered, her expression unreadable. Pierce recovered quickly, despite having lost his breath momentarily.
She wants to rumble, we'll rumble, he thought, scrambling to his feet and sliding into a crouch as he pulled his sidearm from where he'd tucked it into the waistband of his sleep pants, casting it out into the corridor. She charged him, dropping her shoulder and catching him at the waist. He stumbled back a step; though she was lithe and relatively petite compared to him, she was still a better match for him than most of the men in his last command. Whether that was to do with the Force, sheer will, or just pure strength he wasn't sure, but something told Pierce that now was not the time to hold back. She wanted no favors. He shifted his weight and countered her attack, putting her off-balance in turn. They tussled for what seemed like hours, not speaking, neither really landing blows, but neither giving ground, either. He watched her face; her eyes were unfocused, her brow drawn. Whatever was driving her, it wasn't in the room, but Pierce was happy to give her an outlet in one of the few ways he knew how.
Finally, they dropped to their backs on the floor, breathing hard and sweating. Pierce said nothing, but waited to take his cue from her. After a few minutes, she spoke.
"I cannot remember the last time I was able to just spar with someone for the sake of sparring. Training with Jaesa is so damned exhausting; she's so undisciplined and bloodthirsty that I have to constantly work to keep her controlled," Torilya rolled her eyes as she mentioned her apprentice.
"I can imagine," Pierce snorted. He certainly appreciated Jaesa's physical attributes, but he had to admit that the girl was just a little too unhinged for his liking, not that he'd toss her out of bed if it came to that. "Don't know if she'd rather screw you or disembowel you," he'd once commented to Quinn after an outing with the crew some months back. Quinn, of course, had said something stuffy and changed the subject. Bloody ponce.
"You'd think we'd have woken the whole ship. It always amazes me how soundly Vette can sleep." Torilya almost seemed to be rambling now, her breath still ragged. "She's useless on watch rotations. Falls asleep at the drop of a hat and nothing wakes her. Quinn says-" she cut off abruptly, sitting up and reaching up to rub the back of her neck, her back to Pierce now.
Pierce stopped breathing for a moment. He wanted to ask about what had happened, though he knew it obviously was not good. Quinn and the Wrath had been getting very close in recent months; many times in recent weeks Pierce had caught Quinn creeping out of her quarters early in the mornings. He knew it was more than just a physical relationship, though he wasn't sure just how deep it truly ran. He was pretty sure he was getting an answer now.
"If there's - " he started, then went quiet as he saw her shoulders tense. They sat in silence for a moment more. Just as Pierce was starting to wonder what he should do, she let out a shuddering breath and began to speak.
She told him about Quinn's betrayal, of their relationship, of how just weeks before the incident he'd declared his love. She told him of her uncertainty regarding his motives and just how deeply Baras was involved in manipulating him, of her uncertainty that she'd ever be able to trust him again, either on her crew or as her lover. And then, almost in a whisper, she spoke - more to the floor now than to Pierce - of how she felt like a failure as a Sith and a woman.
"Vette knows, too," she told him, "but I don't know how much I'll tell the others. Broonmark would probably just rip his limbs off and make him eat them, and Jaesa will either kill him or seduce him," she laughed bitterly. "If the story gets out, the fact that I let him live will undermine my authority as Wrath, but I suppose I shall just have to be fearsome enough to make up for it."
Her bravado had started to rebuild, but Pierce could tell her grasp on it was tenuous. He waited a moment, to see if she had more to say, but she seemed to retreat back into her thoughts. He decided to blunder ahead.
"Permission to speak freely, Wrath," he barked, his nerves causing him to default to military protocol.
"You know you need not ask," she said coolly, still not turning to look at him.
"Quinn is a stupid arsehole," he blurted. She inhaled sharply, but he barged ahead. "I don't pretend for a moment to understand Sith politics or headgames, but Baras or no, do not let that little git make you feel like less of a warrior," he paused to take a deep breath, wondering if what he was about to say was totally foolish, "or a woman," he finished, letting his hand come up to rest between her shoulder blades from where he still lay on the floor. She flinched at his touch, but did not pull away.
They sat like that for a long moment, Torilya gradually letting her weight sink into his palm a little. He sat up, then carefully began to run his thumbs along the sides of her spine and up her neck, trying to help release some of the obvious tension there. He had no idea exactly what he meant to accomplish - he was rubbish at this emotional crisis stuff - but he knew that he could not stand to see his lord and friend in this fragile state. She let out a long breath and rolled her head from side to side, clearly trying to will herself to relax. Tentatively, Pierce reached up to the metal clasp that held her hair atop her head in its usual messy coil. When she did not protest, he unfastened it, letting her thick black hair tumble down below her shoulders. He awkwardly began to comb his fingers through it, first at the ends, then at the scalp. She leaned into his touch a little more, and just as he began to ponder what he was supposed to do next, she suddenly spun around on her hip and up onto her knees to straddle his lap, gripping his shoulders tightly and wrapping her legs around his hips. He stilled - well, most of him stilled, his thin sleep pants doing him no favors in this situation - and waited a beat before looking into her face. She was looking back at him intensely now, but her expression was still hard to read.
"Your body wants me," she said, as neutrally as she might state that water is wet.
He swallowed hard. "It's not dead. No way not to notice you're a damn sexy woman."
She kept staring at him, leaning in to press her chest to his. "I once told you serving me could be very rewarding. Did you ever consider what that might come to mean?"
Oh, fuck. No way to answer this one right.