Bright Spot

ATC 16. Rishi.

Even when Theron hits the ground he doesn't wake, though he does curl in on himself with a muffled groan as Lana comes running from inside with Jakarro at her heels.

Alive, at least. For a moment as Nine watched him fall she thought that might have been the end of it, that she'd missed something despite the kolto- but no, when she kneels beside him in the dirt, pulls her gloves off to lift his head with clean hands, she can feel his ragged breath on her palms.

"Help me," she says again, "I can't lift him by myself."

Jakarro pushes past Lana and lifts Theron from her arms, scooping him up like he weighs nothing at all. Turning back toward the hut he growls at Lana, long and low and requiring no translation; the noise of it vibrates through the ground beneath her knees and prickles the hair on the back of her neck and only when Jakarro passes back through the open door and out of line of sight of Lana does he stop. Kaliyo, hidden somewhere inside behind the curve of the wall, swears, followed by a loud clattering and something fragile-sounding hitting the ground.

Still on her knees, she rubs her hands against her face, pushing the tension from her temples and the fatigue from her eyes- no time to be tired yet, with far too much to do and only a few hours left with Revan's trap unsprung. When she looks up again Lana's staring at her, teeth sunk into her lower lip.

"You've got-" Lana gestures to her own face- "here-"

When she glances down her palms are red-smeared, messy, and she can only imagine what her face looks like; she's usually got a nose for blood but she hadn't even noticed this time, nostrils still clogged with grenade smoke and speeder exhaust. One of Theron's injuries must have opened up again when he fell, his blood on her hands from her failed attempt to catch him.

"Theron's. Not mine." She shakes her head, rocking back on her heels as she wipes her hands clean on her thighs, stains disappearing against the black of her armor. "A little too on-the-nose, hm?"

Lana starts to answer but seems to think better of it, closing her mouth just as she opens it, so fast that her teeth click audibly. Instead she pulls a cloth from her pocket and dampens it with water from the canteen at her belt, crouches beside her and starts to scrub the blood from her cheeks and forehead, from her eyelids when she closes them again, and when she is finished there she lifts one of her hands and then the other and cleans them too.

There's still a thin red line along the edge of her left thumbnail when Kaliyo sticks her head out the door. "Hey. You have any adrenal stims left? I want to try something."

"Yes." She sighs, pushes herself to her feet as Lana does the same. She's been kneeling perhaps a minute, likely less, but it feels like an age. "One. Hold on."

Stars, she's tired.

(I was saving that adrenal for myself, she says. I knew I wouldn't have a chance to sleep. But he needed it more than I did.

Lana nods. Theron appreciated it, I know. When he came to Asylum, after he'd quit the SIS, we did talk. Not about what happened, not directly, but- interlacing her fingers, stretching, Lana stifles a yawn. It's late and she's talked too much, probably; she never could tell a short story- about you. He felt like he owed you, I think, although I got the impression it was rather more involved than that.

That's… she chuckles. Involved is one word for it, but that's getting ahead of ourselves. I do have a question, though.

Hm?

After Jakarro took Theron inside, when you were getting the blood off my face- do you remember what you were going to say?

In profile she can see the corner of Lana's mouth curve, up and then down, her eyes closing for half a heartbeat before she speaks. Not verbatim, no, but I remember thinking you were wrong about it being literal.

How so?

Lowering her arms from their stretched position, Lana looks down contemplatively at her own fingers. My hands were clean.)

Inside, Theron's laid out on the table that had held their monitoring equipment, nose bleeding in a trickle that collects in the bow of his upper lip, still semi-conscious despite four empty vials of kolto on the ground nearby as she presses the stim into Kaliyo's outstretched hand. "You wanted to try something?"

"Yeah. Check his pupils." Kaliyo opens one of his eyes carefully with the pressure of her index finger on the crease of his eyelid. "Figure the stim might wake him up, at least."

She looks closer- hm. Constricted, smaller than they should be even when she pulls a light from her pocket and shines it obliquely onto his face. "I don't think they were like this before. Either Revan's people gave him something slow-acting, or-" the beam flashes off his temple at the same moment the thought strikes her. "Or he's got a pain modulator built into his implant and he overclocked it. I tried to dodge the rough trail as much as I could on the way back, but it can't have been pleasant- he's got broken ribs and fingers at minimum."

"You do kind of drive like shit." Kaliyo flips the cap off the injector. "Should I?"

"Go ahead. It may not help, but all I've got is antitoxin and I'm out of ideas."

Head tilting in agreement, she presses the tip to Theron's neck and triggers it.

For a few seconds nothing happens. Just when she starts to think nothing's going to, that even with the kolto and the adrenal it won't be enough, he gasps, reaches out and grabs for her hand as Kaliyo holds him down against the table with her forearm across the top of his chest.

"Fucking hell-" he gasps again, eyes open, fingers locked around her wrist. "I- what-"

"Thought we'd lost you there for a minute. You passed out, Theron," she says as he starts to calm and she gestures to Kaliyo to step back. "We've got a little kolto left, but until we get back to Raider's Cove I'd prefer you conscious."

"'m awake now." He grumbles, turning his head to look around the room, at Jakarro packing up their scattered gear and Lana in the doorway, quiet, arms folded across her chest. "I lost focus when you hit that tree root, and then my implant kicked in-" He seems to realize, then, that he's still holding on to her; he relaxes, right hand dropping to his chest, letting go. "Think I overdid it a little. I haven't pushed it that hard in a long time."

She nods. "Understandable. Can you shut it off for now, though?"

"Yeah. I probably should." Taking a deep breath, Theron closes his eyes for a brief moment, then makes a face and reaches up and across with his right hand, brushing a fingertip across one of the tiny buttons on the surface of his implant. "Although- ow. Okay. It really, really hurts now."

"You don't have a medical station in your shuttle, do you?"

He shakes his head, then winces at the movement. "No, but I don't need it. We don't have time. We've got to deal with Revan first- the fleets-"

"I know. And we wouldn't have figured any of that out without you, but you've done enough."

"You can cut the debriefing shit, Cipher." Snappish, Theron tries to sit up again even as she moves her hand to his shoulder, conciliatory and trying to keep him still all at the same time. "I don't need that, either."

"Take it from experience: yes, you do. But," she says, quieter, "that wasn't what I meant. I was only trying to- just rest, alright? We'll figure things out back at base but we can't stay here."

He looks up at her, then; she can't tell if he's angry or exhausted or in pain or all three in shifting combination, the landmarks of his face distorted by swelling and rising bruises and a growing stripe of blood along his cheek and chin. His tone softens. "I- yeah. You're right. Sorry."

"Lana?" She turns her head toward the doorway where she's still lingering, as Lana makes a quiet little noise and Theron, too, turns to see. "Do we have transport back yet? I don't think the boat's a good solution this time."

"I've spoken with your Ensign Temple. She's en route in my own shuttle," Lana uncrosses her arms, holding out the cleaning-cloth still clutched in one hand with a few steps in her direction until she reaches across to take it, "but it doesn't have an infirmary either, I'm afraid. Jakarro?"

The Wookiee, too, shakes his head with a muted series of roars as Dee-Four translates.

"Our kolto tank is empty, alas. Jakarro used the last of it to treat his injuries after Rakata Prime, and as he says, we've been hiding, not hauling cargo. The market price for a refill was more credits than were available."

As she listens, she starts to wipe the worst of the blood from Theron's face; he starts to protest but at her look he quiets and lets her work. When she's finished, she folds the cloth and pinches his nose, carefully, and he nods, reaches up to hold it and his hand brushes against hers.

He needs proper medical care. The clinic in the Cove is out of the question, of course- too many curious eyes, even this late at night. That only leaves the tank in Nightshrike's medical bay, which is out of the question, too, or at least it should be. Even under the current circumstances she shouldn't let an SIS agent anywhere near it and there are things Theron absolutely cannot be allowed to see, but-

He shifts himself on the table, his broken hand holding the edge as he moves the balance of his weight from one side to the other, his teeth sinking hard into his lower lip muting any sound he might have made, and something in her gives way.

Desperate times, as the saying goes. What other choice is there?

She sighs, opens a channel to the ship through all their linked comms. "Vector? Are you there?"

"We read you, Cipher. " Vector replies. "Raina has already departed in Lord Beniko's shuttle-" Lana makes a face at that-

(Titles, Lana murmurs amusedly.)

"-with an estimated arrival in approximately ten minutes."

"Very good. I need you to prep the medical bay and the war room, please. I'll be bringing Agent Shan shipboard to use our kolto tank while the rest of us plan the next phase of the mission."

Theron blinks. "I told you, I don't need-"

She shushes him.

"Agent Shan. As you say, Cipher." She knows Vector well enough to pick up the hint of doubt in his voice, but he would never have gone against her, not on her ship. "One moment. I'll speak with Doctor Lokin and-"

He goes quiet. Over the comm there's a shout, a growl, the hiss of a door closing-

"Vector?"

Nothing.

"Vector. Are you there?"

"You may wish to secure the channel, Cipher." He finally responds, slightly out of breath. "We must report an issue."

"An-" Oh, Force, what now? She switches over to their private channel, ignoring Lana's arched eyebrow and Theron, trying to sit up again, restless and uncomfortable on the table. "I haven't got time for issues. What is it?"

When he answers back, she can still hear growling in the background and- oh, no. "The medical bay may be unavailable for the next several hours. It would appear that Doctor Lokin is… indisposed."

She knows the answer to her next question. She has to ask it anyway. "The normal sort, or his particular variety?"

"The latter."

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, fighting the urge to scream and drive her fist into the nearest wall- of all the Force-damned luck, of all the times for something like this to happen, why now? "Then grab the backup scanner and what supplies you can from the escape pod-" and credits, lots of credits, she thinks, mind racing over possible options before she settles on one- "and the small black box from my bedside table, then lock down the medical bay. I'll need you at the safehouse when we arrive."

"As you say. We'll be there." The channel clicks over.

When she opens her eyes everyone else is staring at her, Lana and Theron and Kaliyo and Jakarro, with the same questioning expression.

"Plan B," she says, and starts shoving equipment into the open backpack beneath the table. "We improvise."

(What exactly did happen? Lana asks.

You… ah. You're familiar with Doctor Lokin's unique physiology, yes?

I've read his dossier, she says, while we've been searching for him recently. He infected himself with rakghoul plague. But-

She nods at Lana. Mostly right. Infected isn't quite the right word, but he uses a serum to keep the transformation stable. Apparently, one of the ingredients he'd had to source while we were on Rishi was counterfeit, and when he dosed himself with that particular batch- she snaps her fingers. We managed to contain the problem to the lab, but short of caging him there was nothing to do but let it wear off. He was very apologetic afterward.

I would hope so. And you were really going to bring Theron on board your ship?

It was a terrible idea, I know. Intelligence would have had me sent for reeducation for that if I'd still been on the roster officially. But- she shrugs- what else should I have done? You saw him. I couldn't-

She trails off.

She could have. How many times had she done just that before, left Republic soldiers and agents and informants broken and bleeding and dying in her wake, turned her back and walked away without a single ounce of guilt weighing on the shreds that remained of her conscience? Even when she didn't, even when it was people she'd worked alongside, it was more out of caprice than obligation: she saved Chance because she isn't a monster and still turned the turrets on Ardun Kothe with howling savage vengeful joy because he deserved it, damn him, the way he used her. But Theron was-

Theron was something different.

I know, Lana says softly, and she doesn't know whether she means her last words or her last thought but she's not sure it matters. I know.)

The little shuttle, meant to hold three or four at most- not six, and certainly not a Wookiee- is terribly cramped on the short flight back to Raider's Cove. It's less bumpy and far faster than the boat that carried them over, though, and half an hour later they're back at the alleyway safehouse.

She sends Kaliyo and Temple back to the 'shrike. Vector, black eyes glancing cautiously around the safehouse, hands her the supply bag with an apologetic grimace. "Not much to speak of, we're afraid. We weren't able to access the medical bay, as you know."

"It's fine, Vector." She shakes out the bag onto the central table as Jakarro starts pulling up maps, projecting them onto the screens along the walls. The scanner, a few doses of painkiller, two more kolto syringes, one patch and no splints and just two rolls of bandages- Theron's already used twelve and they haven't even seen to his hand yet. They'll need more. She palms the little velvet box as it hits the tabletop. "I'll make a run to the clinic. They're fussy about Imperial credits, but maybe with better trade they'll sell in quantity."

"No." Theron, propped up on his cot along the back wall, speaks up, pulling a spike from his jacket pocket. "You need to see this. It's everything I could pull off the terminal in the room where they were holding me: schematics for the jammer, fortification maps, a few messages, maybe even a way to triangulate Revan's location. We've only got a few hours left. I can-" he coughs, presses his lips together into a thin pain-filled line. "I can wait."

Lana, pacing back and forth with her eyes on the largest map, shakes her head. "You're still injured, Theron. We'll need your help with this, and it would be better if-"

He laughs, sharp and bitter, though it trails off abruptly as he flinches again. "It would be better if I wasn't? Yeah, it would, wouldn't it?"

Lana's face barely changes, a faint grief clouding her eyes for the span of a breath before it passes, but then she turns toward her with her hand outstretched. "The rest of you should start planning, then. I'll go for supplies. Just tell me what I should sell."

"Take this." She opens the box, pulls out a necklace on a golden chain, its pendant a Nova ruby the size of her little fingernail. "It ought to be enough, even at black market rates."

"Cipher, that's- I can't-"

It sparkles brilliantly in the lamplight as she lowers it into Lana's hand, closing her fingers over it. "I've been meaning to sell it, and rubies don't suit me, anyway- they clash with my hair. Now go."

(Sixty thousand credits' value. Lana shakes her head in disbelief at the memory. Beautiful. And you gave it away without even thinking.

One of the side benefits of Cipher work- I've collected lots of baubles over the years. She shrugs. That one was a gift, though I wasn't fond of the man who gave it to me. Killed him the next day, actually, so it seemed suitably ironic to trade it for medical supplies.

Still. It was a pretty thing.

If we ever get to go hom- she catches herself. It isn't home, not anymore- back to Dromund Kaas and my apartment hasn't been thoroughly looted, I'll give you the run of my jewel closet. You can have your pick of pretty things. I certainly don't have much cause to wear them now.

Lana smiles. That's very- she pauses. Wait. Did you say closet?)

Five hours before the fleets are scheduled to arrive, she loads the last of the maps into her datapad and finishes a third cup of caf, reviewing the jammer schematics one more time for good measure.

His thumb set back in joint and his hand taped and bandaged (the breaks were clean, so far as she can tell from the shitty backup medscanner, and ought to heal well- a mercy. An injury like that, done with more malice, might have crippled him), Theron's finally stopped trying to get up and is resting quietly on his cot. The whole room's quiet, really, with Jakarro running decryptions at the console with Vector's assistance and Lana still not back with the supplies.

She doesn't mind quiet most days. Tonight- today, past midnight though only barely- it's unsettling.

"If I leave in an hour," she says, looking up from the diagram toward Theron, "do you think that's enough time, or-?"

He's on his left side, facing toward the wall, and she can see him breathing but he doesn't answer; she gets up from the table and crouches down beside him.

"Theron?"

He'd better not be unconscious again.

Carefully, she nudges his shoulder; he mutters something unintelligible. Probably not unconscious, then.

"Never mind," she murmurs. "I'll let you sleep."

"-I have a number sixteen, extra crispy? Menu's 'n the counter-" Theron gestures vaguely, eyes still closed, at the wall in front of him. "-oh. 'nd a Goodvalor roll. 'm starving."

She chuckles softly. "I'll see what I can do."

"'kay." He curls tighter under the thin blanket, eyelids fluttering in dreaming sleep. If she ignores the bruises he looks almost peaceful.

She lays an extra blanket over him and sets a ration bar on the cot before she moves back to the table.

Lana comes back a short while later, two crates on a floating cargo hauler at her side, and immediately starts unloading, handing her a dozen injectors and setting more on the table handful by handful.

"It should be enough, I think." She shoves the first crate aside to pull the lid off the second. "The negotiations took a little while but I managed just about everything they had. I thought you'd need to take some with you, too."

"With luck I won't have to use them, though I'm not counting on luck today." Grabbing a few stims off the top of the second crate, she tucks two away and shoots the third into her outer thigh. Her heart rate rises, her senses sharpening as the dullness of overfatigue slips away in a familiar chemical rush. "That'll help, though."

Lana nods, watching her as she refills her belt pouches before she turns her gaze to Theron. "Is he-"

"Sleeping."

"Good. I'll wake him once you make landfall."

"You two need to talk," she says. "Maybe not now, but if we make it through this- it won't work going forward, Lana, not if we can't trust each other."

The second create emptied, Lana settles into one of the empty chairs around the table. "I know."

"I'm not sure you- never mind." Elbows on the table, she rests her forehead on her folded hands. "Focus on raising the fleets as soon as I can drop the jammer. If we can't manage that, it'll all have been for nothing."

"We'll manage. Don't worry."

When she closes her eyes she can almost read the schematics on the backs of her eyelids. Good. Ready, then. "Theron was right. We do say that a lot." She looks up. "Vector?"

"Yes, Cipher?"

"Tell SCORPIO to meet me at the shuttle port. I'm heading out."

She doesn't bring SCORPIO into the field often. Their partnership was always uneasy, a thing of mutual convenience rather than loyalty (then and now, she says wryly, as Lana nods agreement- she'd mentioned more than once she found the AI disconcerting, but as the Lady of Sorrows the information network SCORPIO had cultivated on Zakuul has proven invaluable), but sometimes it takes a machine to break a machine.

She needs her. The jammer has to come down, and if SCORPIO's lack of empathy's sometimes a drawback, well-

Today she's not in a particularly forgiving mood, either.

The wreckage of the walker smolders beside them as she crawls from behind the shielding panel. Everything hurts- a rocket to the chest knocked her nearly off the platform; she's going to feel that one tomorrow for sure- and she can barely hear her comm over the screams of the anti-aircraft guns, carefully reprogrammed to target the Revanite ships.

The sky overhead's filling by the second. The fleets dropped from hyperspace even as she'd fought, already firing on each other, a Republic strike fighter streaking past with engines ablaze-

There's still time. There has to be.

"Cipher?" Lana breathes a sigh of relief when she answers. "Is the signal jammer disabled?"

It hurts to breathe- so much for luck. She limps to the controls, SCORPIO at her heels. "Nearly. Tell Theron to start hailing the Republic."

"Already on it," he says, voice stronger than when she'd left. "Uploading the files to you, but you should get out of there."

"I will, just as soon as-"

The machinery powers down as SCORPIO turns from the console, a self-satisfied smirk playing at the corners of her metallic mouth. "I have an open channel to the Imperial flagship. Shall I connect you?"

"Do it."

She can already hear Theron speaking to someone as the holoprojector activates.

"This is Cipher Nine hailing Imperial vessel Terminus. Come in, Terminus. Do you copy?"

"I am here." Darth Marr, arms folded, impassive, intimidating as always, fills the projector display and she has to fight the reflexive urge to kneel. "And you are on Rishi. Explain."

"There are traitors in your fleet, my lord, planted by Revan. He survived the strike on the Foundry and his cult has only grown. Transmitting files now. Have your loyal crew detain them quickly, before any more damage is done." (She hates my lord, the phrase like ashes on the tip of her tongue. But Darth Zhorrid, for one, had killed for lesser insults than improper deference and she doesn't know Marr's temperament well enough to risk it.)

Marr's head tilts. "Revan is alive?"

"Yes. He wants to destroy both the Empire and the Republic, starting here."

Looking away for a moment, Marr gestures to someone offscreen. "Power down all weapons, Captain, and signal the rest of the fleet immediately." He turns back toward her. "Is he here?"

"I don't know. I don't believe so, but-"

A second figure appears on the projector beside Marr, a petite human woman in Jedi battle armor, hair in neat plaits framing an ageless face. "Finally, an open line," the woman says.

She's seen her before- years and years ago, during the attack on the Brentaal Star. Her name was-

"Grand Master Shan." Darth Marr inclines his head politely. "It appears we have been set upon each other by your ancestor."

Grand Master Shan-

Ancestor-

Her eyes go wide before she can help herself, and it takes every bit of self-control she possesses to keep her facial expression otherwise neutral.

"Yes. We were notified by an agent of ours who's also planetside."

Complicated, in Theron's words.

Quite.

When she returns to the safehouse the meeting's already nearly ended, the room divided neatly down the middle with Lana, Vector and two armored guards flanking Darth Marr and Theron, Jakarro and two Republic soldiers behind the Grand Master.

She tries not to stare, concentrating on the plan, but this close there's no mistaking the resemblance. He has his mother's eyes, and when Satele says it again- my agent- she glances in his direction just in time to see his lip curl as he shifts restlessly from foot to foot. The phrase strikes a nerve, clearly.

"It's agreed, then." Marr rumbles. "To the fourth moon of Yavin, to end Revan's plans once and for all."

"I do hope you'll join us." The Grand Master- if she remembers her from past skirmishes she doesn't show it, her expression pleasant and her tone even- says as she starts to move toward the door, flanked closely by her soldiers. "You've done so much already. You should be there to see this through."

(That was the beginning of it all, wasn't it? If we'd never gone to Yavin- if we'd known- She trails off into silence, trying to ignore the knot tightening in the center of her chest.

How could we have known?

I don't know. But I can't help but think… she turns sideways in her seat, feet tucked beneath her, facing Lana directly. Do you remember what Marr said? About the Emperor?

Lana wrinkles her forehead. About Revan's plan? I'll admit I wasn't entirely paying attention. Between remembering my death warrant, Darth Marr giving away the Empire's darkest secret without so much as a pause and realizing I'd just let the son of the Grand Master of the Jedi Order be tortured by his own ancestor, I was fairly sure I was about to be murdered rather horribly.

It was a very calm meeting, all things considered. She flashes her a smile, just for a moment, before the thought overtakes her again and she sobers. He said that Revan thought he could succeed, but that the Emperor would prove too powerful- for Revan, or for anyone else. What if Marr was right?

He wasn't.

How can we know that? What if-

He wasn't, Lana says again, rests her hands on her shoulders and her forehead against hers. We won't let him be.

She closes her eyes. If she keeps thinking hard enough, keeps her mind on other things, she can almost drown him out.)

Their visitors gone and her crew dismissed, she and Lana and Theron and Jakarro all sink into chairs almost simultaneously.

Dee-Four's the first to speak. "That went surprisingly well, I think."

"I wasn't expecting a truce, I agree, and bypassing the Dark Council and the Chancellor was a neat little trick. Combining forces- we may actually have a chance at stopping Revan now. And thanks to Theron, we've got a destination."

Theron glances at her with something like gratitude, nodding agreement. "It definitely could have been worse. It's refreshing to see the Republic and the Empire working together without stabbing each other in the back."

Everyone looks at Lana, who crosses her arms defensively and sits up taller. "It was the correct decision. You know that. Everything we learned-"

"And here I thought we could trust each other." Raising his bandaged hand, Theron gestures around the table. "If I was wrong, I'd like to know that now."

"At the risk of sounding egotistical," Lana snarls, chin high, eyes narrowed, "I will not apologize for being right."

(Oh, stars. Did I really-

Yes, Lana. Yes, you did.)

"I'm not even asking for an apology. I just think-"

"Would you both be quiet?" She drops her hands to the tabletop and in the sudden silence that follows the noise echoes around the little room like a blaster shot. "Theron's right, Lana. Your plan paid dividends, to be sure, but you do owe him an apology."

"Not you, too." Lana's focus flickers from face to face as they all stare flatly back at her; she sits back with a huff. "I- fine. Theron, I'm sorry. But if you'd been in on the plan, Revan might have been able to detect that."

He shakes his head. "You think I've never been captured before? I know how to resist. My implants-"

"If they'd figured it out," Lana says, "if you'd slipped, even for a moment, they would have killed you."

"That's… it's not impossible, alright? Never mind." Slouching down further into his chair, Theron sighs. "So. On to Yavin IV."

Pushing back from the table, Lana crosses to her cot, lifting her already-packed duffel bag onto one arm. "Yes. We'll speak further once we're there, unless there's something else?"

"I just need to gather my things, but we'll rendezvous with the Terminus in orbit." She rolls her shoulders backward, cracks her neck. Lokin had better be out of the medical bay by now- her back aches ferociously and now that it's quiet her ears are ringing, and a little time in the tank sounds decidedly appealing now that Theron won't need it; judging from the quick look the Grand Master'd shot him on her way past he's got a lecture and a trip to the infirmary waiting, probably simultaneously, as soon as he's off-planet. "I'll see you aboard, Lana."

"I'll wipe the console while you pack," Theron says, "and I could use a hand with carrying some of this equipment, Cipher, if that's okay with you."

There's something in his voice that makes her nod. "Of course."

Lana and Jakarro leave, then, and they're alone, and Theron rests his head in his hand and looks at her through the gaps in his fingers.

"Go ahead. Ask."

"Ask what?" She gets up, crossing the room to her bedroll and starting to fold it neatly.

"How I'm related to Revan," he says as his eyes close- he looks better, less bruised and less exhausted. "Now you know. The Grand Master of the Jedi Order is my mother. Thank you for not saying anything, but I assume you'd like an explanation."

"Of course I do, though I don't expect one. I was only going to say you promised to tell me the swoop bike racing story-" she grins as he starts to laugh- "but all things considered, maybe you ought to start at the beginning."

(She pauses. Some of what he said- I know you're my spymasters, you and Theron, but I don't want to say more than he wants known. How much do you know about Theron's childhood?

Very little. Less than you do, I'm sure. He doesn't talk about it often. His mother gave him up at birth, I know, and they aren't close, but beyond that? Lana shrugs. Almost nothing.

Not close is an understatement. You know he was raised as a Jedi, yes?

Lana nods. He did mention that. But he isn't Force-sensitive.

Correct. The Jedi who raised him abandoned him, too- I still don't know everything that happened. He was largely on his own from what I gather, hence the stint as a swoop racer… he was barely in his teens then. The SIS came later.

What about his father? He must have had someone.

She shakes her head. I don't know who Theron's father is. I know he does, but he's never told me, and I don't think he met his father until fairly recently. I don't think his father knew he existed until fairly recently, frankly.

That merits a startled blink from Lana. And Satele didn't-

She gave him up as a newborn, Lana. She- how old do you think Theron was, the next time he saw his mother?

Force sensitivity almost always manifests by age ten... twelve at the latest. So even if his master waited a few more years- oh, I don't know. When the Jedi released him, I assume. Fourteen?

She almost hadn't believed it herself when he told her, but the way he said it, the way his mouth curled around the words- there was no faking that. Twenty-three. He was twenty-three.)

"'My agent.' I love it." Theron rolls his eyes at the memory as he lifts himself back onto the stripped-down cot, the last bits of his toolkit packed away into the case on the floor in front of him before he lifts it onto his lap. He starts to lift his satchel, too, but stops, wincing. "Like it's a coincidence we share a name. Like that's a normal way to refer to your own kid."

"I'll get your other bag, Theron. Just given me a moment." She can't deny he has a point, though, about Satele. "You'll have time to talk on the way to Yavin. Why don't you say something to her?"

"I don't know. I guess I find it more funny than bothersome at this point." Looking up at her as she drops her own pack at the entrance, his mouth quirks at one corner into a wry little smile. "Why am I even telling you all this? I've fed you people so many phony backstories over the years, and here I'm boring you with my entire life story."

"I've been told I have the face of a good listener." She winks; he rolls his eyes again, though there's something playful in it this time. "And you weren't boring me- it's quite a tale, though I'm afraid I don't really remember my family so I've don't have much to offer in return."

Theron nods. "Did something happen to them?"

"I don't-" she winces. Careful, girl. Almost too close again, there. "I remember what they look like, a little. I was a child when I saw them last, and I- that's one of the things-" she has to force the words out; she shouldn't tell him this, but it's such a little thing and it seems only fair- "we don't keep."

"Like your name?"

"Like my name."

"I'm sorry."

She shrugs. "Don't be. I had a choice."

"As much as we ever do." He shifts toward the edge of his cot as she nods in silent agreement. "I'm ready to get out of here whenever you are, by the way."

"Me too. It's a shame, really." She crosses back to sit down on the cot beside him, hauling his other bag up from the floor and looping its strap over her shoulder; everything else beyond the tech equipment he'd brought to Rishi fit into a single satchel. With his ribs still broken she'll carry hers and his both, at least to the entrance to the docking platform- with the Republic here in earnest she likely won't be allowed anywhere near his shuttle. Alliances only stretch so far, after all. "Except for the pirate nonsense this planet seemed so nice when I first arrived. Warm weather, friendly natives-"

Theron grins. "Not to mention the delicious food, the cultists, the family bonding torture sessions… zero out of five stars. Would not recommend."

"Not an ideal vacation spot, I agree." When she starts to rise the bag's strap comes unfastened, sliding off her arm and pulling her off-kilter, and she settles back to fix it. "Oof- heavy. What've you got in here, bricks?"

"Only a dozen or so. And all your extra ration bars. I might need a snack later, after the kolto tank and the lecture."

She laughs. He'd had the same thought, clearly. "You can keep them. I've got crates of them back on my ship. So the food wasn't all bad, then- any other bright spots?"

As she speaks he's reaching across her body to loop the strap back through its buckle, drawing it tight and sliding it up onto her shoulder. "I can think of one," he says.

It takes her a moment to realize he's looking at her and not at the buckle- she was watching his hands move on the strap and hadn't noticed he was working by touch- and his eyes are locked on hers when she shifts her focus and there is something in the way he looks at her that makes her stop short and-

(Well, she says, you can guess. Not how I would have wanted it to happen, but-

What do you mean, not how you wanted it? Lana, brow arching nearly into her hairline, looks at her in confusion. You'd flirted with Theron all along, ever since Manaan, and- forgive me for this, but you've never struck me as the type to turn down a lover.

I do have standards, you know. And we only kissed, then.

Her entire face goes pink. That wasn't what-

I know. She grins. I'm only teasing you, Lana, and I've had it said in much ruder ways by people I like far less than you. You're right. Some other day, some other person, I'd have let him pin me to the wall and walked out with him wrapped around my little finger- Lana blushes even redder at that- but to borrow your phrase, I made a mistake with Theron. It started as a game, but-

Hm?

At some point, she says, we forgot we were playing. On Yavin, especially, but Rishi was the beginning.)

(There are things she does not tell Lana. This is one of those things.)

She almost pushes him away.

In the split second before Theron's mouth meets hers she knows what's going to happen and she almost turns her head, almost stops it before it starts, not because she doesn't want it- she does, so badly it starts warning bells sounding in her mind- but there is no way to do this that isn't going to hurt, in the end.

There are two ways this game can be played. Masks off, their loyalties laid bare, the first way does not apply to them. There's no agenda for her to follow here, nothing she needs from him that she doesn't think he'd give her willingly, and he's been played enough, his trust a fragile thing. Pushing it further, asking even more- it would have been a cruelty beyond her capacity.

The second way is, at best, a brief bliss. This truce won't hold forever and at the end of it they'll be on opposite sides, enemies. But for today-

But today he kisses her, lips parted and hand still on her shoulder and body leaning into hers, eager, and she doesn't care.

Theron tastes of caf and kolto and copper-bright blood, her tongue glancing along the cut on his lip as they shift together, awkward and fumbling as the cot tips precariously under too much weight on its edge; her hand comes up, brushing along his cheek until her fingertips glance over a still-livid bruise and he flinches and goes still.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, and means it. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. I mean-" when she moves she hits another sore spot and he breathes in, sharp and quick, but doesn't draw back- "a little, yeah, but-" He catches her hand with his unbandaged one, laces his fingers through hers as they come to rest along her neck and pulls her back in close, a soft hitch in his voice that hits her at the core like lightning. "I don't care-"

And then they are lost, for a short shining moment, lost in kisses and the brush of fingertips on skin and the gasping little noises they make against each other's mouths, hands starting to seek out the edges of clothing. Theron's satchel digs into her back as she leans into the wall, his weight settling against her.

(It was no grand story, this thing of theirs, at its beginning- no birds singing with the sunrise, none of the sweetness of a romance vid or a children's story. It was something harder, born of adrenaline and probably a little spite and under it all pure visceral want- an implosion grenade, two bodies together at the center of a swirling disaster with only the contact between them keeping the world from collapsing in on itself-

Or a better analogy, perhaps: the vortex above a sinking ship, too many near-misses and near-deaths and more still coming, dragging them down into cold and darkness. They cannot get clear of it- it's far too late for that- so when it starts to pull the only thing to do is fill one's lungs and fight toward the surface, toward light and heat.

And ah, stars, he is bright, then and now, and it took her far too long to realize that she was the same for him.)

Outside, in the alley, someone shouts and she and Theron both startle, looking to the entrance.

"Is that-" he tries to push himself up, but his good hand's behind her, caught in her hair and the collar of her jacket- "damn it, that had better not be-"

"Just outside, I think," she pants, bracing herself against the wall so he can move. "We're okay."

Theron nods. "We're… yeah." He looks at her, then, as they both struggle upright, both flushed and breathless and rumpled. "Force. I'm sorr-"

She presses two fingers to his mouth before he can finish the thought; he kisses them, unthinking, and she grins as he starts to apologize again. "Don't. Am I complaining?"

"No." He returns her grin as she lowers her hand. "No, you aren't."

"Then-" she hooks the collar of his undershirt, pulls him toward her- "shut up and-"

Her comm rings. Though she silences it- only someone shipboard, probably wondering where she is- when she looks up again the moment's passed.

"We should probably go," Theron says with a sigh, untangling from her, starting to stand. "I need to catch the fleet before it jumps to hyperspace, and I assume you do, too."

"I do. Though I can think of a few things I'd rather be doing." She rises, too, lifting his bag along with her, her voice wrapped low and sly around the words to mask her frustration, which is a problem- for fuck's sake, he's the Grand Master's son, what is she doing-

'You and me both." He turns toward her, and as she lifts the satchel onto her shoulder he reaches out, one more time, to adjust the strap.

If they brush against each other every so often as they walk through the market they blame it on healing injuries and heavy bags. As she expected, there are guards now, posted both on Nightshrike and on Theron's shuttle, and the armored figures on both sides stand at attention as they approach.

"I'll see you when we get to Yavin. I'm sure we'll have things to catch up on by then," she murmurs as she hands him the bag, quiet enough the trooper guarding his shuttle can't hear.

"I can think of a few."