A/N: Experimenting with Trista's nightmares/flashbacks in this chapter. I just have a lot of feels.
I put this on my current Mass Effect story's last chapter as well, but this may be my last update for a while. I have TWO MONTHS to write an entire master's thesis and I don't know how I'm going to do it, so it'll be really frustrating. But the point is I really need to bust my ass on it. I have one more chapter loaded after this; I'll probably try to update in the next few days, and then it could be anywhere from a week to the middle/end of March before I update again. Just a warning - I'm hoping it won't be, but I have a lot going on in the next few months. But thankfully this summer I'll be living alone and either between schools or in my first real job, so hopefully I'll be, you know, free to write. More so than now.
10
"Trista."
She groaned quietly in reply, not daring to open her eyes. She felt dead. Was she dead? No, she couldn't be dead - she would have joined with the Force. Wait, where was . . . she couldn't feel - there was a void somewhere down inside her, a dark one, something empty and vacant and hollow.
"Tris, please."
She slowly forced her eyes open, and let her head fall towards the speaker. Revan sat in a chair next to her bed, maskless, and smiled when their eyes met.
"Finally," she chided. "You've been out for days."
"What happened?" Trista's voice sounded strange coming from her throat, rough and harsh.
"I was going to ask you the same thing." Revan reached out and grasped her hand, laying limp on top of the sheets. "The bridge crew said you collapsed. They said you nearly died."
"I don't know. I . . . Revs, I can't feel the Force." Revan was quiet for a few minutes, looking away. "You . . . you expected this, didn't you?"
Her head whipped back around, loose tendrils of fiery hair waving with the motion. "How dare you accuse me of that!" she demanded. "How dare you say that I would put you in outright danger?!"
"You have before!" Trista replied, perhaps a little more harshly than was merited. "This wouldn't be the first, Revanna Galon!"
"Don't take that tone with me!" she snapped. "Just because you're older than me-"
"And I promised your mother I'd watch out for you, but - that's what this is? I disagree with you and -"
"Tris, just . . . just stop." Revan reached out and brushed a strand of blonde hair off her forehead. "Just stop. I wouldn't . . . if I'd known what this would do to you I wouldn't have asked you to be there. I would have sent you as far away as possible - you know that. I don't care that you disagree with me about nearly everything. We're the only family either of us have."
"You have Alek," she replied. "But, he's using Malak now, isn't he?"
"He is," Revan replied. "That's besides the point."
"And if we hadn't left the Jedi -"
"You left willingly, and you know it."
"I know I did. But we should go back." Revan looked away again. "Revan, we can't just -"
"The Jedi aren't what the Republic needs," she answered. Her tone was nearly venomous. "The Jedi are weak, arrogant, and judgmental di'kut. They nearly let the Republic fall around them. You saw it yourself."
"If you aren't going back," she asked. "What are you going to do?"
Revan sighed. "Alek and I are going to take a small part of the fleet into the Unknown Regions. Something was behind the Mandalorians, and we intend to find out what it was."
"Revs-"
"Don't. Our minds have been made up since the battle." She glanced away. "Mandalore told us. It's why the strategy was so unlike them."
"Revs, you need - we need - to go back. We need to face judgment, to get help. You're so close to fal-"
"No! The Jedi will merely imprison us, or worse. I refuse to let them further dictate my life when they know nothing about anything outside the Temple walls."
"They know enough."
"And 'enough' would have gotten the Outer Rim destroyed."
"Revan, please. I'm worried. Don't - whatever it is you think you're chasing, let it be. Take it to the Council, see what -"
"No. I can't. If it's a threat to the Republic, it has to be stopped." Revan stood. "Trista, come with us, when we leave. Please. I . . . need you."
The tone in Revan's voice gave her the smallest pause, and she considered it for the briefest moment. But . . . "No," she replied. "I-I cannot. I'm sorry, cousin."
Revan ducked her head and sighed. "Well . . . Bye, Tris."
Trista gasped when the woman she knew shifted, shimmering into the masked, hooded Revan she'd found images of on the holonet during their imprisonment. Her dark-gloved hand stretched forward, and lightning sparked on her fingers. "Then you are a liability."
Trista threw herself for the side of the hospital bed, falling to the far floor with a thud and -
"Tris. Tris, wake up. Tris!"
She gasped, shooting nearly upright. Atton jerked back, nearly missing having his nose slammed into by her forehead. Instinctively her hand snapped out, latching around his wrist. "Whoa, sweets!"
Trista shook her head to clear it, then hurriedly released him. "Mr. Rand, are you all right?"
"Yeah. Fine." He eyed her suspiciously. "What the hell was going on?"
"Nothing. Just a bad dream." She rubbed her face. "Ugh. I really wish I could take a walk."
"We could always fight our way out," Atton supplied helpfully.
"Absolutely not," Kreia chided from the far side of the room.
"I wasn't serious," Atton snapped. Trista rested her head in her hands, sighing heavily.
"Just . . . stop, both of you!" she barked. "Force, it's like dealing with a pair of children sometimes!"
Atton glared over his shoulder at Kreia and stalked to the far side of the room. Trista rolled over onto her side, tucking herself into a small ball under her sheets. But she didn't sleep, eyes following the paths of the shuttles outside her window.
This was why she didn't sleep.
#
The next day, the terminal chirped again. Trista, who had been cross-legged at the end of her bed, sighed heavily and answered it.
"What?" she asked sharply, expecting the TSF. The droid on the other end looked shocked.
::Apologies, mistress. I am B-4D4, administrative assistant for Czerka Corporation's Citadel Station Branch.::
Figures. Czerka knew that she'd been visited by the Ithorians and had to catch up. She was a Jedi, even if she wasn't.
"I apologize. Please, continue," she said quickly.
::I am attempting to connect you with Executive Officer Jana Lorso. May I put you through?::
"Yes," she replied simply.
::Thank you. I will connect you now. Good day.:: The droid disappeared, only to be replaced by a middle-aged woman with dark hair and diamond-shaped tattoos that arched over her eyebrows and down to her hairline.
::Thank you for accepting my call, Jedi. As my assistant no doubt informed you, I am Jana Lorso.::
"And why are you contacting me?" She knew why, and toyed with the idea of correcting her assertion that she was a Jedi. But something about the woman made her uncomfortable - whether it was the Force or just years of instinctual living on the Rim, she didn't know.
::I understand that you have been approached by the Ithorians.:: Trista nodded. ::Doubtless they tried to obtain your assistance through imposed guilt and veiled threats -::
"I remember neither. Please, I'd appreciate you reaching your point."
::Very well. Your standing with the Jedi and the Exchange has no bearing on our discussion anyway, and I did not intend to waste your time discussing Ithorians.:: She glanced down, likely checking a datapad. ::I do believe you are a person of influence. Someone I'd like on my side, rather than aiding the Ithorians in their quasi-mysticism and foolishness. There is a potential for progress and profit on Telos. But rather than asking for your help, I am offering you a job. Work for Czerka, and be handsomely rewarded. You would be helping yourself. If you find yourself interested, please visit the office here in Residential 082. B-4D4 will know what to do when you arrive.::
"I will come by if I can," she said.
::Excellent. Good luck with that messy investigation - I'm sure it will be over shortly - and I hope to see you very soon.::
As the comm clicked, Trista shook her head. Atton was leaning against the wall by the console with his arms crossed, studying her.
"Not sure?"
"What do you know about these people?"
He shrugged. "Czerka's kept its head down since the mining on Tat' went bottom-up. Heard they were involved in a nasty slavery thing on some Outer Rim planet as well back durin' the war but . . ." Atton shook his head. "Well, when you spend as much time on the Rim as I have, that doesn't bother you so much."
"Who were they enslaving?"
"Big hairy guys. Wookiees, I think they're called."
She nodded. The only ones she'd ever met had been slaves.
"Anyway, we should get some rest," Atton said. "Whenever they decide to release us, we should get lost. And fast."
"Agreed," Trista replied with a nod. She glanced at Kreia, but the woman appeared to be meditating near the far wall and did not reply.
So she settled herself on the end of her hard bed and crossed her legs, tentatively reaching out towards the current of life that flowed just within her reach.
#
The next day was when Grenn returned, finally, after nearly a week of house arrest. Trista swung off her bed, rubbing her neck as she stepped towards him.
"I've come to inform you that the Telosian government has completed its inspection of what's left of the Peragus facility. It appears that the Harbinger was present, though it was gone when our ships arrived, and was responsible for the station's destruction. Logs recovered from the facility's wreckage indicated the miners had perished as a result of sabotage that began while you and your companions were either incapacitated or incarcerated."
"Told you," Atton muttered from behind her.
"As such, you are to be released from house arrest. However, the Republic is sending its own ship to investigate. They have insisted that you remain on station for the duration of their search."
"Why are they sending a ship?" Trista asked. "And how long will it take?"
"Well," Grenn said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "To further investigate the station's destruction and search for their missing ship. The Sojourn is already en route; it will probably not take more than a few standard days. These quarters are available for you to use during your stay."
"And our ship, it's still impounded?" Atton asked. He nodded.
"The vessel's I&D is complete. The TSF station near Entertainment Module 081's cantina should have the paperwork. The ship should be transferred from the impound docks by the time you're free to leave."
"And my T3 droid?" She wasn't at all done finding out what that droid knew.
"It will be returned with your ship, along with your confiscated weapons and armor."
Without leaving room for further questions, Green left. The doors closed, but they could hear the TSF guards leaving the outside watchposts.
"Well now what?" Atton asked. "We can't just stick around here. We need to get the hell off this station."
"I know," Trista said.
"We could head for Nar Shaddaa, maybe. If you've got people after you it's a good place to get lost."
"Personal experience?"
"Maybe. It's no big deal." He motioned. "Look. This place is a waste. If it wasn't shot when Peragus blew, it'll be when your friends come for a visit."
"Kreia?"
"I feel we came to Telos for a reason," she said calmly from her position on the end of a bed. "But we may have tarried to long here. Even if the Harbinger was destroyed at Telos - unlikely - more Sith could be on their way as we speak. Still," she said pointedly. "There is a chance we might learn of other Jedi here, on the planet's surface. Jedi who may help us sever the link between us, or restore your abilities."
"Yes. That would be a cold day in hell," Trista replied.
Atton glanced between the two women, again questioning just how messed Trista's relationship with the Jedi was. "Well . . . what're you thinking then?"
Trista shrugged. "Stay or explore, we need a ship. We should find the Ebon Hawk and see if she will be available in a timely fashion. If not, we may need to purchase passage."
"Sure. I'll get out all zero of my credits," Atton replied, but he headed for the door.