"I won't try to explain what I cannot understand
It's a bird it's a plane it's a one night stand
If I only we could ride far enough
I'd forget you altogether
It's a bluff:
There is no way I could not remember…"
Will- The Dresden Dolls
"Every time I see you, you always look like such a vixen." Jil purred coyly over the rim of her wine glass, taking a seat next to Meetra at the bar.
Meetra turned her head to smile at the pretty woman now sitting next to her. "You think so, hey?" She emptied her own wine and waved Gordo over, "The answer to your riddle is this; the cabin that contained three dead bodies that the explorers found on top of the previously unvisited mountain belonged to that of a ship. A ship crashed on the mountain peak. Can I have some more wine now?"
The bartender flashed a toothy smile at Meetra before nodding and grabbing her glass, returning it to her nearly full to the brim.
"Oh my, thank you!" She laughed. "You spoil me."
"Nah." Wils dismissed her thanks. "I just like you is all." He flashed her another beaming grin before rushing to the other end of the bar to serve a fresh and drink-less group of soldiers.
Meetra seized the opportunity when no one else was looking to brush her lips against Jil's, whispering in her ear, "I'm not the only one looking vixen-ly this evening." She sat back in her seat and shared a secretive smile with her counterpart.
"I've always wondered; how did you ever convince Revan to let you install a fully serviced cantina on your ship?"
"Oh it required a lengthy conversation about frivolities and the best uses of my time, but once I reminded him that he was the one who made me a general, and that one of my duties under such a title is to ensure that happiness, emotional welfare and charisma of the squadrons under my command remains intact and healthy, he seemed more inclined to listen. I argued that the men require a place that lets them unwind and socialize... do the things they did before they enlisted. Such as drink, play pazaak and watch bands." She winked and turned her gaze to the dance floor which was a tightly knit swarm of bodies, male and female, moving to the music. Her eyes scanned the crowd and fell on faces she knew, and some she didn't. She set her drink down on the bar, surprised to see Alek's extremely tall figure on the other side of the room, chatting with a group of soldiers.
"What?" Jil asked, noticing Meetra's sudden change in body language. "Oh." She said when she noticed the same thing Meetra just did. She chewed the inside of her mouth a little; a curious little gesture that caused her lips to go a bit crooked and puckered. "Why is he here?"
"Dunno." Meetra said shortly, continuing to glare across the room; he certainly outranked her. By all rights he could spend his time on any military ship he wanted to, but she knew it was no happy accident that he was on hers.
Upon her return from Onderon it had been made clear, amazingly without any expenditure of meaningless words that things were over between the pair of them; no more discreet meetings aboard his ship, no more quietly flirtatious looks shared during news briefs, no more subtle touching of feet under the table during meetings...
Revan had blessedly stayed out of it: He wasn't getting involved and Meetra got the distinct sense that he thought himself to be above the petty scruples of his two closest allies. She wasn't sure if he had done her a kindness or dealt her an insult when the next meeting they were scheduled for had her and Alek's briefing datapads set at completely opposite ends of the table.
"Who's your friend?" She tore her gaze away from her manic and glued a smile on her face when she turned to Gordo.
"Jil." The gray eyed woman said, shaking Gordo's hand over the bar. "Jil Burtrand." She tucked a stray piece of dark hair behind her ear and smiled in that peaceful, inviting way of hers.
"Can we each get a whiskey, Gordo?" Meetra asked, realizing that she required more than just the Force to help her through the rest of this evening.
"I'll do you one better." He said, turning his back and pulling a variety of bottles off of the shelf behind the bar, pouring quickly and methodically. "Here." He said, placing the shots on the bar in front of Jil and Meetra, raising the one he'd prepared for himself. He looked at Meetra in a rather knowing way. "To a good truce."
Knowing there was more weight to his words than what was on the surface, Meetra raised her own drink to Jil's and Gordo's.
"To a good truce." She repeated, and their glasses chinked together before the liquor fell down their throats.
"Wow, that was really good!" Jil remarked, wiping her mouth. "What do you call that?"
"I don't actually know." He laughed, wiping the bar down and placing the glasses in the washer. "I just made it up."
"You would." Meetra smirked, grabbing Jil's wrist and sliding off of her bar stool. "Come dance? The band is starting and I hear they're quite good."
"Lead on, general." Jil replied fearlessly.
Meetra liked that about Jil; by no means were they well acquainted. They were about as well acquainted as any two people who had slept together once could be, but since that night there was a certain closeness and trust that had developed: An appreciation of sorts, for the company of each other. Jil had been there to listen to Meetra ramble over the course of two bottles of wine about everything that had happened between her and Alek and why it just wasn't working, and why she was happy to be done with it et cetera, et cetera. She never said a bad word about him, never lowered herself to being contrived in her agreement that Meetra had certainly made the right decision, never asked more than needed to be asked.
"And, and when this is all done, he can have... he can have Coruscant, Alderaan, Onderon..." Meetra ticked off the planets drunkenly on her fingers. "As long as he keeps his hands off Naboo. He'd hate it there anyway. We'll call it even."
Jil only smiled, and nodded, and poured more wine. Meetra got the sense she didn't expect anything from her and it was quite nice.
The band tonight was some sort of shoegaze outfit from Nar Shaddaa: All dirty noise and walls of sound with a down in the grease sort of rhythm. Lights flashed all around the dance floor as they drove sound from the enormous speakers on the stage, and artificial smoke filled the air and swirled around their feet as they both moved from side to side, oozing their movements into the ground from the tips of their toes to the tops of their heads.
Meetra heard herself laugh over the music as she shook her head and her hair jingled and sang, its many adornments lending a subtle sort of percussion that only she and Jil could hear.
Their eyes remained firmly set on each other, not oblivious to those around them, but simply uncaring as they swayed and moved and shifted from foot to foot, each limb comfortably and easily getting lost in the pocket of the music: Dancing was not a difficult thing, Meetra had discovered.
At one time she would have awkwardly stood around, sort of hopping from foot to foot, glancing subtly at the feet and the confident movements of the women around her who were obviously more rhythmically experienced than she. But it seemed as time and the war had passed, she had become one of those that the less experienced would subtly try and imitate, with her sleek, somewhat primal movements.
Neither were ignorant of the eyes on them, but neither Jil nor Meetra said anything; most people were occupied with their own drinks or dances, but there were at least a few men standing within striking distance that were instantly distracted by the two women dancing with such abandon.
Inwardly, Meetra shrugged away any embarrassment: She understood completely; there was lust in this dance. There was lust in Jil's eyes, and she knew they were reflecting her own. Whoever decided you had to be naked and in a bed to make love was a complete idiot, she decided as Jil placed her hands on her waist and Meetra rested her arms on Jil's shoulders.
A thing happened, where the room seemed to close into the density of a black-hole. Everything was still there, just as loud, just as hot, just as packed. But it was all just stuff around Jil and herself. Force, she wanted her again. She wanted to kiss her right then and there, she wanted to run her hands all over her one more time, feel her hair between her fingers. But she couldn't. Once was enough. Once wasbad enough. It was enough trouble that she had already been sleeping around with Alek, but she was willing to chalk that up to a mistake of youth: She knew better now - Jedi don't fall in love for good reason.
She laughed again, because she really didn't know what else to do anymore, and Jil turned her head when someone tapped her shoulder and leaned in to say something to her.
Meetra mouthed, "What?" When the man pulled away and Jil leaned in close, the scent of red wine on her breath.
"He asked us if we wanted to join in an orgy."
"Really?"
"Yeah." Jil doubled over laughing, nearly spilling her wine all over a pilot that stood directly next to her. "Sorry!" She apologized quickly before turning back to Meetra. "I told him no."
"Why are there orgies happening aboard my ship?" She dead-panned before also bursting into laughter.
She had been about to resume dancing when someone tapped her shoulder this time.
"What?" She laughed as she turned around, a smile still stupidly spread across her face, "You want to invite us to an orgy too?" The laugh died in her throat, but the smile stayed. "Alek."
He bent close to her so she could hear him over the music. "I need to talk to you." He said, his voice low and serious.
Meetra tossed some of her hair back over her shoulder. "No you don't."
"Come with me. I'll make it quick." He promised, grabbing for Meetra's wrist.
"Stop it!" She hissed. "Can't you see I'm in the middle of something?"
"You can come back." He said sternly, making another grab for her which she easily side-stepped.
"No!" She said, raising her voice and widening her eyes in an expression that she hoped got across precisely how stupid he was being. "Despite what you may think, you can't just board my ship and drag me away from my friends because you want a chat!"
"These people are not your friends." Alek reminded her, "They are soldiers who serve under you. How many of them do you think will care to remain in touch with you when the war is over?"
Meetra glanced over her shoulder at Jil, who, rather than getting involved or standing around being awkward, had simply struck up a conversation with the pilot she had partly soaked moments earlier.
"You have ten minutes." She said, mustering as much civility as she could before sweeping away from the dance floor, passing the bar, stopping only to say to Gordo, "Please have another wine waiting for me?" His blue eyes went from Meetra to Alek and he said nothing, just smiled and nodded.
"Where are you going?" Alek called, jogging to catch up to her aggressively quick pace.
"The shuttle bay." She said briskly, "We're going to have whatever little talk you came looking for, and then you're getting off of my ship."
"Maybe I don't want to leave." He said smugly.
"I don't care what you want anymore, Alek. I don't. The fact that you infringed on my space tonight is enough to set in stone the truth of the matter; I don't want you around." She knew her words stung; she meant them to. They weren't easy to say, but they were said. Deciding she owed him more of an explanation than that, she stopped and faced him, her Jedi robes swaying around her ankles. "Look, you and Rev were my best friends when we were growing up. I learned so much from both of you; I looked up to you, I followed every footstep you laid down, I had fun with you, I joked and laughed and had brave adventures with you. But…" Her voice failed her, and emotion welled in her.
There is no emotion, there is peace…
The words came reflexively to her: Those seven little words had defined her entire life since she was a child, and now she was standing in the hall of her personal battleship desperately trying to wring what peace she could from them unsuccessfully.
Was it the sting of Alek's possession that made her feel so incredibly helpless in this situation? Or was it the fact that she held her betrayal with Jil secret and close to her heart? She didn't know anymore.
"… we have a job to do." She said finally, "The war is nearly over, I can sense it, and once it's over you'll never have to see me again."
"That's actually what I came to talk to you about." Alek said, resuming his pace beside her. "I've seen you lately. You're acting erratically; making hasty decisions and spending far too much time in company not conducive to our ends."
"By which you mean?"
He didn't answer, he just continued. "We think it may be in the best interests of the effort, due to the impending close of the war, that you take on a purely administrative role."
"Orders from the top?" She asked curtly. "Because I'm not going anywhere until Revan himself throws me on a ship and tells me I'm done."
"Meetra," Alek began in that lullaby voice of his, "When we were together – "
"We were never together!" She shouted. "Significant other?" She spat derisively, "We were lovers, Alek! That's all. And now, we're simply colleagues. Get over it!" She ran a hand over her dreadlocked hair, not caring about the number of frangipani petals that drifted to the ground when she did this. "Is that all you came here for?" She demanded, slamming her hand onto the console for the door to the shuttle bay.
Alek looked at her with sadness in his serene hazel eyes. It was heartbreaking to see such a handsome face etched with such concern over someone like her.
"You've lost touch, Meetra." He said quietly as she leaned against the doorframe and lit a cigarra. "Stop that!" He said, closing the distance between them and yanking the smoke from her lips and crushing it under his boot. Meetra didn't waste a second before shoving him back with both hands.
"It's time for you to go." She said blankly. "I'll see you at the meeting on Monday."
His eyes searched her face one last time and with the slightest shake of his head, he turned his back on her and boarded his shuttle.
Meetra stood in the doorway of the bay and watched until the vessel her lover was on was a small speck of light within the thousands of space. She lit another cigarette and easily hacked the encryption on the datapad she had lifted from Alek when she pushed him back. She wandered back to the cantina, smoking as she went.
"I wondered when you'd be back." Jil was by her side instantly when she sat at the bar, setting into her wine as she scrawled through the details of the document she had opened. "What's that?" Jil asked, leaning over to take a glance.
"Malachor five…"