The door opened, and Alora stopped breathing. The hallway was most certainly not empty this time. Her brain barely acknowledged the trail-end of the door chime (he must have just hit the buzzer) before completely shutting down in shock. Instinct took over, and she rushed to embrace him, needing on some base level to confirm what she eyes told her, to feel the familiar ribbed jacket, to smell the cool tang of metal mixed with the warm scent of leather and smoke, and to taste—Her brain woke up and, luckily, remembered how to speak like a normal person.
"Atton," she breathed his name, still unable to completely contain the joy and relief she felt. "It's really you. You came back." This wasn't a dream, and he didn't hate her. She stepped back to get a good look at the man she had been missing so desperately. He looked almost exactly the same as he had when she first saw him in that force cage on Peragus—rough in all the right places, with the same expressive eyes. It was his manner that had changed. Granted, he had mellowed during their time on the Ebon Hawk together, but the Atton standing before her now was…well, she wasn't sure how to describe it. There was less arrogance, for sure, and the anger that was missing from his emotional barrier was missing in him, too.
"Hey there," he said as his mouth curved into her favorite crooked grin, the one that always promised trouble. "Miss me?"
She chuckled—what an absurd question. "No, not at all," she drawled, falling easily into their sarcastic banter, "I always answer my door like this." She met his eyes and found herself feeling…well, floaty. She had only felt this way a few times during particularly deep meditation. This was…nice—really nice—and it was all because of his mesmerizing eyes. However, she had to jerk herself out of her trance when she realized that her gaze was drifting towards his mouth. She was not in control enough to resist kissing him quite yet—mustn't tempt herself. But she was so glad that he was here, and it wouldn't be inappropriate to give an old friend another hug, would it? So, she cut that part of herself a little slack and leaned in to squeeze him again before grabbing both his hands and pulling him into the apartment.
"Come in! Come in!" Alora continued to lead him until they had reached the middle of the room. At that point, she realized she had no idea what to do next. Shit, shit, shit, what do you do when the guy you're in love with, who might not love you back, shows up in the middle of the night a year and a half after you last saw him? Panicking, she scanned the room, hoping something would spark an idea. They really should write a guide about long-lost-love etiquette or something because she was pretty sure that what happens in the holovids—dragging him to bed before the screen blacks out—wouldn't fly here.
"Alora…you okay?" he hesitantly asked from behind her. She almost winced—she must look totally insane.
"Hmm?" Stalling—breathe in—stalling—breathe out, and then her eyes landed on her mug in the kitchen. She whipped around to face him with a polite smile on her face. "Oh, I was just thinking I needed a cup of caffa. You want something?" Take that, etiquette junkies!
"Well, I suppose that depends on if you're offering me a drink or something to drink?" he drawled back in that lazy manner she had come to associate with him. She laughed lightly at that special smirk she knew revealed that he was playing his favorite "gambling alcoholic fool" card—the one he hid behind during their whole adventure on the Ebon Hawk. She saw through that one quite early on, though she would never give him away if he wanted to be underestimated.
"A Juma Juice it is." Alora knew that she had some still. She'd experimented with some alcohol when she got back, and Atton's favorite had been the first one she'd tried. Her thoughts turning back to Atton, and whether to grab the bottle or a glass (or both), she realized that he was following her. Now, this just wouldn't do…she was trying to follow etiquette here.
She turned back to him. "Nuh uh. I'm the hostess here." She authoritatively pointed to the couch and added, "You sit." His eyebrows and hands came up as he backed up. She blinked; perhaps she had overdone that a bit. Oh, he was smirking again. Reassured, she continued into the kitchen.
The suite wasn't that big, but the kitchen nook was deep enough that it broke the line of sight between them. Alora sighed with relief; knowing he couldn't see her now, she collapsed into the counter, catching herself on the edge. Holy shit. She needed to get herself under control before she did something awful, so she started a Jedi breathing exercise. Still focusing on the patterned breathing, she refilled her caffa mug and retrieved the Juma Juice from the cooler. After she had poured a glass for Atton, she turned her attention to her own mug and whether or not it needed some alcohol in it, too. She did have a bottle of whiskey, which was quite nice with caffa, as well; however, the question was if it would help. Her tolerance was particularly low, so it wouldn't take much to affect her. Even this much alcohol would help her relax physically while she mentally reined her emotions in, she argued to herself. But was it worth the risk of lowered inhibitions—in this situation especially? She heard a soft shift of the couch and flinched as if it were a gunshot, thereby answering herself. It was worth it, absolutely.
Adding a fair bit of whiskey to her drink, and double-checking her newly regained emotional control, she mentally braced herself and headed back to her guest. She stifled a laugh, however, when she saw her guest bending into a rather awkward position apparently in an effort to read her messages while still remaining on the couch. She put on a mock-upset face as she quipped, "Curiosity killed the tach, you know."
He jerked back to a sitting position, looking shocked. "Ah, nice place?" He blinked up at her and smiled hesitantly, looking like he was stealing from a cookie jar but didn't know if he had gotten caught—it was adorable.
She handed him his drink and slipped in a quick "Thanks." It's not like the place is really hers, but he got points for effort. Alora suddenly realized that she didn't know where to sit down. On one hand, she wanted to sit next to him. On the other hand, though, she'd think better in the armchair—no need to invade his personal space or anything. So she went to chair, despite her instincts calling out to the contrary. She took a large gulp of her caffa cocktail.
They sat in silence for a while, and she watched him surreptitiously. From out of the corner of her eyes and from under her lashes, she watched his face. With her own emotions under control, she felt like she could make a decent guess at what he was feeling. However, she apparently hadn't factored in his own Jedi training. If she were forced to make a guess, Alora would have said that he started out with an apprehensive, perhaps uncomfortable, look on his face, which rapidly shifted into something better than contentment but less than happiness. The silence continued to stretch. She wasn't sure what to say to him, but the alcohol was making her noticeably more relaxed. Well, something needed to be said and soon…
"Look, I'm sorry—" Why would he be sorry? She's the one that abandoned him.
"What for?" Oops, they were saying the same thing again. Alora waited until she was sure that he was letting her speak. "Let me go first," she said, more as a segue now than an actual request. A vague feeling that sitting next to him might seem more sincere drifted into Alora's head. And, after all of the fear that he wasn't coming back, she really needed him to believe her. So, she very purposely set down her almost empty mug and moved deliberately over to the couch.
"I…," Her voice broke. Oh dear, this was going to be more difficult than she thought. Usually, she tried to avoid thinking about the night she decided to leave without her crew—it wasn't an easy decision. She had gotten so used to them that leaving them had been like losing a limb, and leaving Atton had been like losing her heart. Er, where did that come from? She wasn't usually this poetic. She looked away from him to gather her thoughts; she doubted he'd appreciate her slightly drunken metaphors. She took a deep breath, and started.
"I wanted to say that I'm sorry about the way I left and for not taking you—err, any of you—with me. I missed you desperately." She sped up in a rush to explain her reasoning. "I still think that it was the right decision to go alone, especially now that I know what was out there, but you deserved more than me sneaking off without saying goodbye. I figured that you would be pretty upset with me. I was actually starting to think that I had ruined our…" What the hell should she call the convoluted relationship that they had? She pursed her lips, "…friendship, because..." Ah, how should she explain the last four months? "Well, you hadn't…nevermind." She sighed. She must be making such a fool of herself, and she was starting to tear up. In hindsight, the whiskey was not a good idea.
"Come here." She looked up and was surprised to find his arms open in invitation. She blinked. He looked genuinely concerned, and she felt the tiniest smile fight its way past her tearing eyes. Maybe it was the drink talking, but she decided that she ought to just stop thinking about it—whatever it was. She slid into his lap and leaned into the comfort he offered. She was still upset; the last year was hell, and there were psychological scars that she wasn't sure would ever heal. But for the moment, she felt safe. His hand was ghosting through her hair, and his arm was locked around waist.
Eventually, he broke the silence. "I was upset for a few days after you left, but then Mira found me and made me 'quit sulking,' apparently on your orders." She felt him nudge her and half-heartedly smiled for him, while she contemplated his confirmation of one of her fears. He had been upset then, but only for a few days? Honestly, that was better than she had been expecting. "Thanks for setting the kath hound on me, by the way." Her mouth twitched. That was one of the reasons she had asked Mira to carry out this mission. Mira was relentless, but mostly she had asked the bounty hunter because she knew Mira wouldn't fight her decision. Her mouth fell into a frown again at that depressing thought, and she looked at the floor. Atton was talking again.
"I had always understood your reasoning, even though I didn't like it, and it didn't take me very long to forgive you for it. You have nothing to be sorry for. You understand?" How could he forgive her? She still hadn't fully forgiven herself for leaving, but did that even matter? She wasn't sure at this moment; her eyes were starting to drop despite the caffa. She was deadly tired, though, to be fair, that was her normal state these days.
"Anyway, I was going to apologize for taking so long to come see you. So, sorry." His rough tone broke her out of her daze. She looked at his eyes to try to figure out what had triggered this. He was angry, or annoyed perhaps? She was feeling confused enough to risk brushing his mind for his emotions, when his expression inexplicably softened. He continued in a more normal voice, "I came as soon as I heard. Unfortunately, the scumbag I was chasing didn't frequent places where they listened to galactic news."
She couldn't fight her smile now even if she had wanted to. So, he hadn't been avoiding her; he truly hadn't known. For once, the best-case scenario actually won out. "Well, since you just said it wasn't your fault, I guess I can forgive you," she responded softly when she realized he would need a reply. Her emotions were getting unruly again. They had forgiven each other, so why did she suddenly feel like sobbing? She had a pretty good idea why the desire to kiss him swept through her—but, really now, more tears? Alora wondered, not for the first time, how much her mood swings and trouble sleeping stemmed from legitimate psychic trauma and how much was just her being messed up. She shifted, and realized that the apprehensive cast to his face was back. She should have remembered that he was no more used to emotional sincerity than she was. "Enough with the apologies. They're making both of us uneasy, I think." Luckily, a new topic came easily to her mind. "Tell me about this guy. Where did this last adventure take you? Did you get what you were after?"
She watched Atton raise an eyebrow. "Last adventure? Sounds like someone already told you about other ones."
The image of Mical gushing over the fantastic artifacts Atton had acquired immediately came to mind. Her lips twitched; she remembered their rivalry pretty vividly and was pleasantly amused at the time that they seemed to have gotten over it. "You've got quite a fan on Dantooine, you know. The way he tells it, you end up sounding like the dashing hero of some new holovid series." That was a little bit of exaggeration, but it'd be worth it to see his reaction.
"He as in who?" he asked slowly and warily.
She waited a beat for maximum effect. "He as in Mical."
"Blondie?" As she suspected, Atton reacted dramatically. Shuddering, he said, "I probably could have lived without knowing that. In fact, I'm going to try to forget you ever told me." She smiled into his chest; she hadn't joked so much in ages. She looked up to see him slyly smirking as he continued, "So, you want to hear about my last trip? Alright then, once upon a time, there was a dashing hero—"
She rolled her eyes, laughing. "Atton," she chastised lightheartedly, elbowing him lightly for emphasis.
"Easy there, sister, I was just joking…"
"Just tell me the story. Pretty please?" She smiled back at him, feeling like a small child asking for a bedtime story. She was getting really sleepy, but she was reluctant to bring any sort of end to this reunion. Alora realized that, not only had she lost her sense of humor in these last four months, she hadn't been this happy since she left to find Chala. It was becoming exceptionally clear that Atton had brought a huge chunk of her life back with him. And so, she kept on smiling at him.
He looked away first. "Alright, for real this time. I guess you've heard about how I've been tracking Jedi stuff that got lost during the Civil War. I mean, you mentioned before you left that you'd like the Enclave on Dantooine rebuilt, but I…well you know how I felt about that planet."
Her smile was traded for a more serious expression that befitted that mildly troubling memory. She recalled the waves of frustration rolling off of him as they met the Disciple, got yelled at by Vrook, and defended the ungrateful Khoonda residents from the mercenaries. Their brief second visit also popped into her mind. She specifically recalled the way he shook as he held her and told her Kreia was gone. She had thought she felt him kiss her hair, but there was no time to consider it then. She had ended up dismissing that sensation when he carried on being just as caustic as before. "You got kind of restless there, if I recall correctly."
"Yeah, well I tried to help in another way, by finding…uh…artifacts, I guess. I heard rumors that someone else was doing the same thing, except he was focusing on texts and I was focusing on…well, I wasn't focusing. But anyway, I finally found out who he was. His name is Kerad Ward, and he's a rather wealthy pirate who wasn't collecting Jedi artifacts out of the good of his heart. I hung out in cantinas and pazaak dens on the Outer Rim—"
"Sounds about right," Alora's eyes lit up; that was just like her Atton. She chuckled and snuggled in closer.
"Hey, now, it's all perfectly legit. I was looking for information, that's all." He jokingly defended himself. At least, he had better have been joking because that was obviously a rationalizing excuse.
"Right. That's all you did," she threw back half-heartedly.
"Alright, so maybe I spent some time blending in, but it did get me a tip off to his location after about six weeks. I went to Endor, then, where he apparently sold guns to a merc group there. I got lucky—he was there when I got there…" It occurred to her that Atton had such a nice voice, and his narrative was making it soothingly rhythmic. She heard a pause and acknowledged it with a brief hum. He was very comfortable, too. She gave up trying to keep her eyes open and drifted off in his arms.
A/N: I would like to apologize sincerely for being such a slow writer. With that said, I only had 4 reviews to motivate me...(hint hint)
Until next time, Happy Writing (and reading)!
