Savior Self
Dantooine part three.
Rated PG13
Disclaimer: I've been listening to a Russian pop/rock song for FOUR days straight. Give. Me. A. Break.
Savior Self
Cortessa made her way up to Master Dorak, her arms clasped respectfully behind her back. She bowed to him, and he bowed to her, and they made nice for a moment before he asked what she wanted.
"I wish to discuss something with you, Master," she mumbled.
He smiled knowingly. "Ah," he said. "You have come, young apprentice, at Master Zhar's bidding. He sees great promise in you… as do I. The time has come for you to choose the color of your lightsaber. This color also reflects your demeanor and position within the order."
Cortessa rested her hands on her hips. "Okay," she said.
He explained to her the different colors and positions before he started her on a quiz. "A woman and her small child are beset by a desperate-looking group of thugs. They are menacing her with weapons and she screams for you to help. What do you do?"
"Gut those thugs so badly their souls will be too broken to reach hell," Cortessa said.
Dorak was stunned. The other Council members stared with unmasked shock.
"Right, then," Dorak said slowly. "On to the next question." He took a deep breath. "You are in combat with a Dark Jedi allied with the Sith. There is a pause in the combat. What do you do?"
"Gut him like a fish."
Dorak winced. "Yes, I figured as much," he said with a hint of resentfulness. He sighed and continued. "Now for the next question. There is a locked door and your goal lies on the other side. What do you do?"
Cortessa thought about it and shrugged. "Pick the lock. If it's magnetic, bomb it to bits."
Dorak nodded thoughtfully. "I think I'm beginning to see a pattern here, apprentice. I have a feeling about what you would be best at. But first, the final question. You are the head of an Enclave on a contested world. The Dark Jedi have infiltrated and are causing unrest across the planet. What do you do?"
Cortessa raised an eyebrow. "Hunt them down," she said. "Kill every last one."
Vandar swore under his breath. Vrook stared at him with shock.
"This day just keeps getting…" Vrook muttered, and massaged his temples.
Dorak shifted uneasily. "As I suspected," he said softly. "You would be most suitable as a Jedi Guardian." He glanced at her. "What color and path do you believe yourself most suited to, apprentice?"
She shrugged. "Don't care," she said smoothly. "Give me the blue crystal. It's just as well."
"This is a serious advancement, apprentice."
"Yeah, okay. I'll be a Guardian, then. Protector of the peace."
Dorak handed her the blue crystal. "Here. Go speak with Master Zhar again and he will instruct you in how to construct it."
She bowed and studied the crystal. It was actually quite lovely, all shiny and clear. She gazed through it for a moment before she brought it to Master Zhar, pressing it into his palm. "There," she said. "I have my crystal."
Master Zhar smiled at her. "Good. Now that you have selected your crystal, we shall begin the construction of your lightsaber."
"Finally," Cortessa said, fishing the pieces from her pockets. "Just tell me what to do."
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Carth shifted impatiently in his seat, gazing out at the door of the enclave. The barb he had embraced that had been Bastila's secrecy had begun to fester, and now he was feeling impatient and wary. What was Cortessa doing all day? What was wearing her down? Why? What secret mission was the Council sending her on? Why? Where? How? With whom? When?
Oh, yes. The barb was definitely festering.
Then Cortessa strode out of the Enclave with a glowing blue lightsaber. Carth started so violently he knocked his empty caffa over. He swore so loudly, Canderous actually came to check on him.
"What's your problem now?" he growled.
Carth could say nothing. He could only stare at the glowing blue blade in Cortessa's hand. He felt heart-wrenchingly betrayed. Canderous, however, chuckled with admiration.
"She's extraordinary," he said. He thumped Carth on the shoulder. "Would you look at that? She bears the mark of the Jedi and yet she carries the diligence and strength of a great warrior."
Carth felt himself choke. He stared at Canderous, shocked.
"What?" the older man asked, blinking.
"You… you're not…"
Canderous began to laugh uproariously, and Carth flushed deep crimson, slumping miserably in his seat. Canderous shook his head and laughed, chortling happily. Carth wasn't sure what to make of this – it gave him no specific answer. He fretted for a moment before he grew angry, glaring at Cortessa's approaching form. She walked upright, a smug, pleased smirk on her face. Even in her new, baggy Jedi robes her figure was clearly cut. Carth shook his head angrily and slammed his fist on the desk before he calmed himself and wound up in maintenance repairs on the ship's guidance systems.
He listened as she opened up the loading ramp and climbed inside. Mission could be heard squealing with delight, and the two of them giggled as they embraced like they did every time they had the chance to see each other. Canderous was talking softly, laughing, and T3-M4 whirred pleasantly. Carth felt rejected and stared blankly at the screen, unable to focus now.
"How's everyone been?" he could hear her ask.
Mission went off on a long rant about the kath hounds and how Zaalbar was a god at smashing their heads in. Canderous explained where to shoot them, and there was a loud bang as he slammed the barrel of his repeater against the wall.
Cortessa's voice grew too soft to hear. Mission could be heard scampering about in another room. After a few moments, Cortessa's approaching footsteps echoed outside the door.
The door opened and she peeked in. "Hey, doll," she said in a friendly way. She seemed to be in a better mood than she had been for the past two months. Carth looked at her and folded his arms.
"Hello," he said emotionlessly.
She frowned. "Something wrong?" She moseyed up beside him and peered over at his work.
He swiveled his chair around so that he was facing the desk again and resumed working. She leaned against his seat and reached around, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him back.
"What?" he grunted, struggling against her grip. She remained firm.
She breathed against his ear; he couldn't see her, but it was painfully obvious that she was there as her arms snaked down to his chest. "What's the matter, doll?" she murmured. Her voice was deep and sensual. "Something's up."
"I don't want to talk about it," he said stiffly, trying to dislodge her. She caught his hand up in hers, and he beat it away. He shuddered. "Why do you do that? It isn't right."
"You don't like it?" He could tell by her tone that she believed he did like it. She wouldn't be wrong, but he wasn't a fool.
"Let off."
She chuckled and withdrew her hands, only to rest them on his shoulders and work her fingers to massage away his tension. The touch brought painfully pleasurable shivers up his spine.
He jerked to his feet, jamming his fists in his pockets. "Leave me alone."
She gazed up at him with wide, innocent blue eyes. Her chin rested on the back of his chair and her hands were gently gripping the armrests, smoothing out the tops with her thumbs.
He shook his head. "What is the matter with you? Did Mission slip stim boosters in your caffa again?"
She smirked, licking her lips. "No," she murmured, sliding an arm up and tangling her fingers in her hair. "I asked."
"What do you mean, you asked?"
She stood up, folding her arms. Her playful seduction was coming to a close. He was relieved. She glanced over the cockpit and sighed. "I figured," she said. "I… I hoped that maybe it would help…"
"Help what?" he hissed. "I don't need your help."
"I just wanted you to open up a little more," she replied, resting her hands on her hips. "I wanted you to trust me."
"Why?"
"Does it matter? It didn't work." She shook her head and raked him with her gaze. For the first time, he realized, she was genuinely puzzled. For the first time, he realized, she had not won out in a battle over seduction. He wasn't sure how he felt about this. She sighed, pushing her bangs from her eyes. "You're tough," she admitted. "Very tough. I knew you wouldn't be easy but…" She chuckled. "Damn!"
"Is that all it is?" he cried.
She wrinkled her nose and looked away. He forcibly ignored the trembling sensation that started from his toes and worked up to his hands. A guttural, angry growl rose up in the back of her throat and she reeled out. He could hear her stamping feet as she marched down the corridor to somewhere else.
Weakly, he sank into his seat, letting out a deep, shaking breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He ran a trembling hand through his hair and couldn't focus on his work after that. He felt breathless and clammy. His skin still ached where she had touched him.
------
Canderous glanced up from his repeater as Cortessa barreled into the room in a fuss. He smirked and turned back to his work, carefully picking out the dirt between the grooves of his precious weapon. "I'm guessing it didn't go as planned," he said, and slipped the small piece of metal between his teeth.
"I don't get it," she told him, sinking down into the seat beside him. She sighed heavily and studied the table, her brows furrowed. She brushed away some of the dislodged dirt and leaned forward onto the table, staring at him. "I've never met anyone quite like him."
"Don't turn it into a challenge," Canderous told her, hardly listening. "Brings about weakness and unneeded feelings."
"Feelings?"
He smirked. "Let's just say it'll put you on the receiving end before it's over."
She blinked. "How would you know?"
He shrugged and thunked the butt of his gun against the table to shake loose any extra grime. "I've had my fair share of fights and scars, kid," he said quietly.
"Can you tell me?"
He chuckled, looking her over. "We're onto that again, are we?"
She smiled meekly.
He shrugged. "Sure. Since I've been with you for three months now, I guess it wouldn't hurt." He lit a cigarra and considered his memories.
"Maybe you could start with the wars," she murmured huskily.
He glanced at her and grinned. "Sure," he said. He took a deep breath, running over where to start, before he was satisfied and began. "I was one of the best youth warriors in clan Ordo in my time. No one before he had mastered the power of our Basilisk war droids as quickly as I had. Except Mandalore himself, of course." A smirk flickered over his features.
"That's quite a waste of talent," she said. She started and stammered to explain. "I-I mean that… o-once the wars were over… you just… stopped. And became a…. a common mercenary… I'm sorry for you."
"Don't get yourself in a twist over it," he told her. "I admit it is upsetting but let me continue with my tale."
She nodded and shifted in her seat. She gazed at him with utter adoration, like a child and her grandfather. But she also wore some ill-placed attraction towards him. He knew she did; she didn't hide it well. She thought he wasn't aware – a charming factor, really – and the pilot was all too suspicious of him. But as long as she didn't go along asking for it, he wouldn't touch her. But she was something to look at, and talk to. Had she been older, and a Mandalorian, and not reeling so over that Onasi fellow, Canderous might have claimed her.
"So you were telling me about the wars," she said, clearing her throat.
He nodded. "In those days, we were sweeping across the Outer Rim, destroying all who fought us. Young Mandalores would prove themselves in real combat with unknown opponents above a thousand worlds. Each brought back the story of his achievements."
She grinned. "I would have harnessed the most power," she said.
He laughed. "I bet you would have," he chuckled. "I have no doubt you would have."
She beamed at him.
Canderous continued. "We were still recovering from the war we fought with the Sith. We were not yet strong enough to fight the Republic again. We needed to train another generation to do that." He shook his head and laughed harshly. "We would travel from world to world, and descend on it in our Basilisk war droids. I still remember my first combat."
"Tell me," she said; he caught the note of pleading in her voice.
"What do you take comfort in?" he murmured to her.
She stared.
"Don't pretend to be stupid," he said.
She shifted. "I don't know," she said. "I… I need to think on it. I don't know what the hell I was thinking when I… i-it's… nothing. Just… just tell your story. It will take my mind off of things."
He cocked an eyebrow. "You sure?"
She took a deep breath. "Continue." She paused and looked him over, her eyes shining with some inner desperation. "Romanticize it for me."
He smiled. "Is that right?" he asked.
Tears welled up in her eyes. "I don't want to talk about me," she said. "Tell me about you."
He took her hand. "You need to wait a while. Get some rest."
At first, she looked reluctant. Her eyes grew wide and she studied him for a moment before she hesitantly nodded, and rose to her feet. In complete silence, she shuffled into her room and shut the door.
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Author's Notes: This is a deleted chapter, a chapter that ruined my plotline, so I got rid of it. I figured you may want it anyway, so here it is. I was in a romantic mood and couldn't think up a plot for a fluff fic. Best I could do. Sue me. And yeah, I know, Cortessa's being a whore again, but it's only because she's lovesick and can't come to terms with her feelings. She and Canderous will not get together.
This was in honor of my birthday. That's fifteen years of hell I've wreaked, and I'm just getting started.
