Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.
Author's Note: Those who are familiar with my usual style, yes, I'm doing this one in past tense, and with a cruder, more simplistic style. I'm really loving the change. Hope you do as well. :)
Rocks and Shoals
Part One: Run Aground Off the Reefs
Chapter Two: The Business of Peace
"Kolyat's grin sunk into a thin, tight line across his lips. 'You're a vile, vile creature, you know that, Lawson?' She flashed a sickly sweet smile up at him." - In a post-war galaxy, Kolyat and Oriana found each other when they went looking for themselves.
Kolyat looked up as the door slid open and Townsend slipped through with that exhaustingly ever-present grin. He blinked both his lids slowly, gauging the woman who stepped through the threshold behind the sergeant. She had short dark hair not past her chin, blue eyes, a figure he couldn't be sure of beneath the loose-flowing blouse and dark leather coat, and a face full of exhaustion. His hand thrummed along the table before he stood to attention.
"Kolyat," Townsend greeted warmly, hands folding behind his back.
Kolyat inclined his head. "DT. Good to see you still in one piece."
"Ha!" he barked. "The 12th's a lot tougher than she looks."
Kolyat offered a disingenuous smirk back. "Well, she'll need to be now. VicTrace wants to base out of your precinct. You're going to have a lot of refugees on your hands from here on in."
He only shrugged. "Don't we always?"
Kolyat couldn't help but frown at the nonchalant man. Didn't he know what they were getting into with this little pet project? Sure, he wanted to lay down peace just as much as the next guy but he also wasn't dumb enough to believe it would all be roses and sunshine – happy tear-filled reunions, fucking hugs and smiles and the whole galaxy is set right.
No. It may never be right again. People died. A fuckton of people died. And a lot were still unaccounted for. So how does Townsend think the processing centers are going to go? I'll tell you, Kolyat thinks, I'll tell you how it's going to fucking go. There's going to be a lot of angry people, a lot of broken, desperate people clamoring for some inkling, some word, some whisper of their loved ones. Something. Anything. Just not the silence. Not some little checked off box in the MIA file, or a backlisted name on a casualties report. And then there's going to be a lot of criminals leeching off that kind of desperation. A lot of theft and fraud and plain, simple violence – the kind that comes without purpose or intent but just because some shithead needed to feel something in the midst of all this filth, all this should-have-died-back-there.
And what? This…little girl…is going to heal all that? She's going to kiss the boo-boo and smile a lie and make it all right?
Bullshit.
How do you make right what will always, inevitably, be wrong? Wrong in a very real, very tangible sense? Like the quarantined children's ward just off Laytis Memorial Hospital, ravaged by an outbreak of krygean flu. Like the almost daily raids on the food caravans. The jam-packed, filthy camps filling up the wards. The intimacy of shared homelessness that infects them all.
The memory of his father, with blood-flecked lips and a hoarse voice.
The worst kind of wrong. The kind of wrong that only breeds from war. The kind of wrong that doesn't get fixed because it's already bone-deep and soul-scarred.
Wrong that never leaves you.
Kolyat's eyes shifted to Oriana.
You want to mend this galaxy, little girl? You want to put a smokescreen over the damage and call it clean because you found some stupid fucker's mom on the wrong side of a ward alley and now they can live in this hopeless grime together? That's your big fix? That's your contribution to this war?
Mend the family. Mend the world.
Kolyat could retch at the thought.
He stopped believing in family a long time ago.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Kolyat leveled an uninterested look Oriana's way. "Lawson, I presume?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it. This cute little line came out between her brows, like she was concentrating on something real hard. "You're a drell," she near-whispered.
He just looked at her. "And you're spectacularly observant."
"Kolyat," Townsend warned.
The drell flashed an exasperated look his way but didn't say anything else.
Oriana seemed to come out of a funk, shaking her head and dropping her luggage onto the floor. "Sorry, no, it's just…I haven't met many and, it just threw me so…" She smacked her lips and fumbled with her words. "It's been a long flight," she sighed, shoulders slumping.
"Hmm," Kolyat mused. He went to walk around the table and reached out a hand toward her.
She took it readily.
"I'm Kolyat Krios. I'll be your C-Sec contact in the department." He couldn't really help the perpetual growl of his voice.
And then he watched the realization bloom beneath her skin as she glanced up and down his form once more, rather rudely if he thought too hard about it. He wasn't some spectacle on display. Her mouth opened and then words came. A quick rush of excited air. "You're Thane Krios' son!"
Kolyat ripped his hand from hers.
She frowned instantly, that same, ridiculous line curling over her brow, mouth opening and closing like a fish.
Townsend sighed like he already knew how the next few seconds would play out.
It only made Kolyat angrier. What the fuck did they know about it? Did they sit and watch his father die? Did they cry for him in the end? But not really cry because he couldn't say he loved him at that point, he couldn't say he felt more than wrath and need and a quiet, knowing resignation. But he had cried for something. Lost years maybe. Lost love. His last chance at revenge. And oh, how he wanted to sling those hateful, spiteful words at Thane's face in the end there. How he wanted to spit his resentment all over the sterile hospital room. But something clenched harshly in his gut when his father pulled that last ragged breath in and fuck! He hadn't been ready for it. He hadn't known it would be like that time, all over again.
Watching from a darkened window as his father walked from him and never came back.
And shit. He didn't want to be that little boy again. He was done with that. He was a new man now. A grown man. A whole man. (He wasn't really, too many jagged pieces and none of them fit.) He didn't cry in the end because he loved his father. He cried because he didn't love him. And some part of him still felt that he should. But there wasn't enough time. And there weren't enough words. And the end had come before he could figure out if he wanted to love him. And that was the rub. He never had a choice. Thane lived and died and fell away before Kolyat ever had a chance to fucking decide to love him or not.
Too soon. And yet…not soon enough.
Kolyat wondered if it might have been easier if Thane had stayed gone.
"I'm no one's son," he spat.
She blinked at him, her hand falling to the wayside. "I didn't…"
"What do you know about it?"
She narrowed her eyes, huffing out her frustration. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you but-"
"You didn't upset me."
"Well, it sure seems like-"
"It's not."
"Okay, seriously?" She threw her hands up in the air. "What is with all the interruptions today? Can I get a goddamn sentence out?"
Kolyat narrowed his eyes. This was going to be a long assignment. "Fine. Sorry. Just…I don't talk about family, okay? That's not a subject open for discussion."
She scoffed, and Kolyat thought she sounded a little petty for it, but then, she probably did too, because she swallowed hard and softened her features. "Well, you're in the wrong business then," she shot back, raising a brow.
"I didn't ask for this assignment, you know."
"Then why are you here?" she demanded, arms stretched wide.
Kolyat was about to answer when Townsend stepped in, hands held up like a surrender. "Alright, calm it down you two. You're going to be working together on this for a while so you might as well be civil with each other. This isn't exactly the best way to start a working relationship."
"I can be civil," Oriana snapped, arms crossing over her chest.
Kolyat rolled his eyes. And how childish, he thought. So he quickly caught her gaze again and didn't let up. Kept staring until she tore her gaze away and toward the far corner of the room. She squirmed uncomfortably, and he silently reveled in the sight.
"Kolyat?" Townsend asked warningly, looking for confirmation.
Kolyat threw a lazy glance his way and nodded. "Of course, DT. It won't be a problem."
Townsend looked between the two and then slowly stepped back, edging toward the door. "Alright, I'll let you two finish your debriefing alone then. When you're finished, Kolyat, show Miss Lawson to her quarters." He raised his brows at the drell, waiting for his okay. When Kolyat nodded once more, tightly and silently, he continued. "This conference room is yours to utilize until we can find you a proper office, Miss Lawson." He looked at her with eyes of apology.
Oriana softened somewhat at the older man's features and then thanked him, arms uncrossing from over her chest.
"Alright," Townsend said a little too gleefully, hands clapping together once. "Let me know if you need anything." And then he was gone.
Kolyat looked at Oriana.
She adamantly looked at the far corner of the room.
Kolyat sighed, his shoulders bunching with the tension already.
Yeah, this was going to be a long assignment.
Oriana settled into a chair at the conference table, pulling a datapad from her suitcase and placing it atop the table. She cleared her throat, linked her fingers together and glanced up to Kolyat, sighing. He had taken a seat as well, across from her. He sat staring at her unblinkingly.
Oriana inwardly huffed. It wasn't like she came in here inappropriately probing for personal information. She had simply looked at him, heard the name, and then something slinked into place somewhere in her brain.
"I knew from the dossiers that Thane was a father, estranged from his son Kolyat to be clear, but…even still. I hadn't thought familial relationships would become such a…distraction…on this mission."
Oriana remembered a rare talk with Miranda after her relocation, with thoughts of 'sister' and 'father' and 'engineered' still fresh in her mind. She remembered wondering what tied them together besides blood. And did it matter? And should she care?
And would she miss it if it were gone?
Oriana remembered the way Miranda had looked away to the window when she said the word 'father'. The way her fingers flexed against her arms as they lay crossed over her chest. The way she didn't blink. Barely breathed even. The way her lips pursed as though to say more but nothing came.
Family does strange things to you. Things you can't always put to words. Like smuggling your baby sister off-world to escape a megalomaniac father. Or keeping a file of half-written violin compositions with the title 'Miranda' in your datapad. Or changing a name that should mean nothing to you at this point but somehow, against all rationale and reason, means everything suddenly. Family makes you cry at night for parents you always knew were yours even if you weren't theirs – parents who died mid-sentence, in a pointless, stupid way, in the room next to yours so that you could hear their screams even when you couldn't look them in the eye, all the while your 'father' droned on about 'perfection' and 'necessary' and 'legacy' as you retched on the cold tile.
Well, 'fuck that'.
Oriana knew even then, even as she had been freshly ripped from a blissful, oblivious existence, that blood will always come for its own.
It's a rare creature that exists truly and completely alone.
Oriana studied Kolyat for a second longer. Family wasn't exactly the heart-warming topic for her either, but it was why she was here. And she'd be damned if a little temperamental drell flustered her enough to forget that.
She cleared her throat, her fingers brushing over the end of her jacket's sleeve, the familiar leather comforting. "Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot."
He only grunted a response.
Quite the wordy one you've got here, Oriana.
"Let's start over. I'm Oriana Lawson. We're going to be working together for quite a while from here on in so, well, might as well get the most out of it, don't you think?"
He raised a scaled brow at her. "Of course."
"I'll need your cooperation. You're going to be a valuable asset for me when it comes to mapping out the camps and setting up processing centers." Oriana tapped open the screen on her datapad.
"I'll get you what you need."
Oriana looked up from the pad. "You don't sound particularly happy about the assignment, to be frank." Something irked in her ribs at the observation.
Kolyat folded his arms over his chest and sighed. "Well, if we're to be frank, then allow me: I don't really see this little project being as successful as you might think."
She pursed her lips. "Oh?"
He shrugged, and it looked so nonchalant and disinterested that she almost wished for the hot-headed, antagonistic version of him from a few minutes ago. It was better than apathy.
She set her pad down and spread her fingers over the table meticulously. "You don't think reuniting the war-torn families is a worthwhile effort?"
Kolyat scrubbed at his cheek, eyes flicking to the wall of the conference room. "Don't get me wrong, peace is good. We're in the business of peace but-"
"I'm sorry, but peace is not a 'business'," she said hotly.
Kolyat narrowed his eyes at her. "Poor choice of words. Okay, I get it. I'm just saying that it's a good thing, okay? I know it is. But it's a silly dream in the end, at least, to think that the galaxy's going to be healed by a few family reunions."
"I never said it was a cure-all."
"I just want to make sure you know what you're walking into here."
"Walking into?"
"Yeah." Kolyat stretched out his arms to encompass the Citadel past their little room. "This place isn't what it used to be. And times are rough, for a lot of people. And that's not going to make it easy."
Oriana's nostrils flared. "Again, I never said it was going to be easy."
"It just takes a certain hardness to work the camps, Lawson."
Oriana leaned back in her seat sharply, glaring at the drell. So presumptuous. To think that she was unfamiliar with anything of difficulty. Or that she lacked the mental and emotional fortitude to pursue this course. It made the blood pump hot in her veins. "Well," she began, smacking her lips, "You just let me know when it gets too rough for you, and I'll call a time-out."
Kolyat's cheek twitched. "How touching."
Oriana couldn't help the smirk that spread across her lips. "What can I say? I'm a compassionate soul." She braced her hand against her chest in a dramatic display.
Kolyat coughed into his hand and she could have sworn there was a smirk pulling at his lips as well, but then it was gone, and his perpetual frown had taken effect. "And oh so humble," he retorted.
Oriana cocked her head as she looked at him. "I just don't understand what you're doing here."
He looked up at her then.
They eyed each other up silently. And then Oriana blew a breath from her lips and sagged back in her seat. "I mean, you have this horridly pessimistic view on life and yet, you're here."
"Like I said, not my assignment of choice."
"No, not here here. I mean here, as in C-Sec."
He shifted in his seat a moment. "What do you mean?"
She sighed. "It's an organization that helps people, protects them. And in the face of all the galaxy's current hardship, I must admit there's a certain…futility to the atmosphere. Your attitude for instance." She rolled her eyes but continued. "And yet, you're still here. You still come in every day and do the job, even when the job is crappy as all hell and doesn't seem to be looking up any time soon. Even when everything you say seems to equate to the exact opposite of what that organization stands for. So tell me, why are you still here?"
Kolyat picked at some lint on his sleeve and flicked it onto the table between them. "I've got to earn my commission. Got to put the hours in somewhere."
She scoffed at that. Because it was the absolute lamest thing she had heard come out of his mouth yet. She made the embarrassing sound of a wrong-answer game show buzzer and held up a hand. "Sorry, that's not the correct answer." And then she lowered her hand and felt the slightest bit pathetic at her sound effects, especially once he raised one incredulous brow. "That doesn't mean you have to stay. You're not obligated to retain this position."
Kolyat sighed loudly, purposely it sounded to her, and shifted his eyes back to the wall, crossing his arms. "Maybe I owe Bailey something and intend to see it through?"
She almost laughed. She kind of did. It was a sort of giggle-snort that escaped her lips before her hand caught it. "Pardon me but, you don't exactly seem the self-sacrificing sort."
"Screw you, Lawson. You don't even know me." And then he pouted.
He pouted! Oriana nearly burst out laughing but she held it in. And she wasn't even surprised by his language or offended by its usage, because even through the guardedness of the sentiment, there was still a casualness about the words that kept them from sounding too venomous. All bark and no bite it seemed with this one. She leveled her crossed arms over the tabletop and leaned forward. "No, but I know enough to tell that you wouldn't still be here if you weren't getting something out of it for yourself. You wouldn't be here if it didn't matter to you."
"Few things matter to me," he threw out.
She rolled her eyes again. "You're so tragically self-pitying."
"And you're disgustingly self-righteous."
"Well, we make a fair pair then," she snapped. A tight knot was beginning to form at the base of her neck. She expelled a short breath and rolled her shoulders, curling her fingers over the table. It was getting so frustrating, bouncing between near-friendly banter and blatant antagonism. It was utterly exhausting trying to read the moody drell. And Oriana was certainly not at her best.
She heard him sigh across the table. "Look," he began, inclining his head toward her. "It doesn't matter why I'm here. I just am. And we're stuck with each other now so…why don't we just skip the 'Twenty Questions' bit and get down to business."
Oriana huffed. "Fine with me."
"Good."
"Good."
"Okay."
"Yeah."
A long, stretching silence.
Kolyat raised a brow and indicated to the datapad. "If you're finished criticizing, then –"
"Oh shut up."
An hour later and they were standing before her door at the C-Sec barracks. Oriana glanced left, then right down the hall, then back up at Kolyat while he stood, half-slouched, hands pocketed, watching her. He raised a brow silently.
"We're at the barracks," she said dumbly.
Kolyat's mouth split apart in a wide open-mouthed grin, his condescension practically staining the air between them. He clapped his hands together. "One gold star for Miss Lawson! Did you hear that folks? She's won the ticket!"
Oriana frowned, rolling her eyes and huffing as she stared back at the door. "Oh yes, I see why they offered you a commission. It's that fine officer charm. Oh wait-" Instead of finishing, she simply cut a challenging look his way.
Kolyat's grin sunk into a thin, tight line across his lips. "You're a vile, vile creature, you know that, Lawson?"
She flashed a sickly sweet smile up at him. "Just meeting the pitch, Krios." She sighed and glanced back down the hallway. The dim lamp posts running the length of the eastern edge of the building cast filters of dim light on their forms. The Citadel Rapid Transit depot wasn't far off, though it had been restricted to C-Sec and government personnel, and the rare refugee with a personal authorization from Bailey. They kept the refugees relatively stationary in their camps. Couldn't handle the movement en masse if survivors took to the ports. Oriana felt a little guilty zipping through the Citadel lanes in the shuttlecar, glancing at the camps they passed, her fingers pressed to the glass, face smushed against the window. Kolyat had said something nonchalantly mocking and she had responded with something equally trite and scathing. And so they spent the rest of their trip in silence. It was a short trip. The barracks were only a few minutes from Section 12's precinct, and when Oriana climbed out of the car, the Citadel's simulated night cycle was just beginning to edge its way overhead. Kolyat had led her through the building's front entrance, up a flight of stairs, and then down a hall to the east corridor of rooms. They stopped just before door 2L.
"I only mean to ask why I'm getting settled in the barracks," Oriana tried again, her words tinged with a genuine attempt at diplomacy now.
Kolyat shrugged a shoulder and looked down at her. "Can't keep you in the camps, now, can we?"
She pursed her lips and stayed silent.
Sighing, Kolyat scrubbed at his cheek and motioned to the door with his other hand. "Some officer gave up his quarters for you to be closer to base, to be with us, protected, part of the crew. Don't dismiss that."
"I'm not-" She stopped, inhaling deeply before continuing. "I'm grateful, truly. It's…not what I expected."
"A bit plain for your tastes?"
"Unduly considerate, actually, I was going to say."
He stared at her. Then he shrugged once more, shoving his hands back in his pockets. "Makes sense to keep you close to the team."
"I suppose." Oriana fiddled with the handle of her suitcase.
Kolyat looked down the corridor, throwing a thumb over his shoulder in its direction. "If you need anything, I'm just down the hall. Apartment 2E."
"That's…" She was going to say 'thoughtful of him' but he was already walking away.
"Just don't need anything and we'll be good, Lawson."
She heaved an exasperated sigh. "You're the worst liaison in history, Krios," she called down the hall.
He waved her off, never turning back to look.
"Don't be late tomorrow!" she warned to his retreating back, and when he turned the corner, she caught the profile of his face for just an instant before it disappeared behind the wall.
He never once glanced back.
Oriana dropped her head to the door and winced at the thud that was harsher than expected. "Ow," she moaned into the door. She closed her eyes. Breathed deep. Kept her forehead braced against the door.
She had a purpose. She had a reason. This was all meant to bring her somewhere higher, somewhere better. A world that could look at itself in the mirror and not see a broken face anymore. A world that could seek and yearn and find. That could hold. Embrace. And never let go again.
A world that would make its own family. New. Probably battered and changed but whole in a way it hadn't been for a long, long time.
This was about wounds that only healed with touch, and souls that only mended with tears. This was about stitching closed that aching, rending hole in every heart this side of dark space.
Pushing off the door, Oriana turned and laid her back against the door, leaning her head back to glance at the ceiling.
His teal face and dark eyes were laid as bare to her as her own heart. A blaring pain that wouldn't find its cure in 'family'. No. His was a pain that could only be lessened by the self. She knew it well enough. She recognized it in the mirror every morning.
There was no one out there in the universe for them to search for but themselves.
But Oriana knew. She knew dearly and painfully.
Some things stayed lost in the war.