The Sith pulled the saber back and then cleaved it down in a violent arc. Instinctively Theron shut his eyes, but instead of the searing pain of the fatal blow, the saber's angry hum sputtered out into an unruly crash. He cracked open an eye and watched as Dirai tried to swing the blade again, but red sparks bounced off of a wall of blue light mere inches from Theron's face.
For a moment, both of their anger and adrenaline were dulled with confusion, each staring at the other with a puzzled look as if they knew what was happening. Then Dirai's confusion melted away as he narrowed his eyes and suspiciously looked up at the ceiling in one sharp movement. Theron frowned, following his gaze just as the dirty skylight exploded into a thousand pieces.
He ducked his head, clamping his eyes shut as a million shards of permaglass rained down them. The tiny shards bounced off the invisible barrier around him, but Dirai had to use his hands to shield himself from the raining debris. A small blonde figure landed in the midst of the chaos, gracefully landing on one knee and balancing herself with one hand, while the other was held up in Theron's direction as if she were holding up something just in front of him.
She stood, cape billowing behind her as the wind blew in through the now open gap in the ceiling. The Jedi's face was set in a grim expression, but he could see a few beads of sweat on her forehead as she fought to maintain the Force barrier she had erected to protect Theron from Dirai's lightsaber. Her eyes were on her opponent, free hand appearing to hang loosely at her side, but Theron could see from the firm set of her jaw that she was resisting grabbing one of the lightsabers clipped to her belt.
Dirai staggered back from his captive with a snarl, sending the shards of glass flying in every direction like a kath hound shaking water from his fur. A few tiny sharp pieces bounced off the barrier, and despite the still ever-present danger of disembowelment via lightsaber, a flare of warmth lit inside of Theron's gut as he realized that she was here for just one reason — him.
Dirai seemingly forgot about the captured spy, turning towards the newcomer, still-ignited lightsaber swinging carelessly at his side. "Ah, and here I was thinking you would never come."
The flare of warmth was quickly doused by a cold sensation as Theron watched the Sith stalk his new prey, wondering exactly how much truth there was to his earlier ramblings if he could recognize her so immediately. He swallowed, glancing past the large man to the diminutive woman assessing the situation with a seeming calm. A slight twitch to her fingers betrayed that thin veneer, revealing the emotions she was trying to keep from bubbling to the surface.
"This man is a member of the Alliance," she said calmly, eyes not straying from Dirai, "and as its commander, I do not take kindly to my people being detained in such a manner."
That was such a polite way of phrasing the past few days, but leave it to Greyias Highwind to understate the situation so thoroughly while still cutting a figure of authority. Her cape fluttered behind her, wind teasing the loose bangs that hung into her eyes as she stared down the Sith looming over her.
"How else was I supposed to get your attention?"
"Step away from him. Now." The steel in her voice brooked no argument.
"I've been looking so forward to meeting you," Dirai practically purred, "Commander is it?"
"If you put your lightsaber away, we can speak more freely."
A cold prickle of dread worked its way down Theron's spine. The cultist had never said exactly what he wanted with the Alliance commander, just his maddened quest to meet with her. Or rather, with the Force ghost taking up residence in her head. Theron tried to catch her eye in some vain hope of communicating this, but her attention was divided between maintaining the protective shield around Theron and sizing up her opponent. Another bead of sweat had joined the others on her brow, trickling down her temple in a thin line.
"Commander, he's—"
"Quiet, worm," Dirai snarled, pointing his saber back in the direction of his captive, "your betters are speaking."
The moment his saber had moved, she was already in motion. The hand hanging at her side drew the saber and ignited it in one swift motion. In the blink of an eye she had crossed the gap between herself and the two men, dark purple blade clashing with Dirai's and deflecting it away from his captive. The blue shimmer surrounding Theron disappeared, and he felt a few of the shards of permaglass that hadn't bounced away land in his hair gently.
"You will not lay another hand on him," she said firmly, an undercurrent of emotion threading through her tone that Theron had only heard once before.
That time he had heard it over a sliced comm channel on Rishi, as she had stared down his ancestor that had been holding him captive and threatened to literally tear the Revanite base apart to find him. It was an anger brought on by panic—or maybe more accurately fear—for losing someone you cared about. For a person who had invested so much of herself into the identity of a model Jedi, it hadn't been her proudest moment as she had later admitted to him.
After they'd found each other again on Odessen, he'd heard her nearly lose her temper a few times, suppress annoyance at senior staff bickering, the sting of betrayal from an ally as Scorpio's machinations brought the Eternal Fleet to Odessen — but the barely suppressed protective fury was not something she allowed herself to feel. Or at least, he hadn't thought it was.
Perhaps he had been too distracted over the past few months by his own fear at losing her again to see the other side of the coin. Watching as her shoulders stooped from the weight of the galaxy pressing down on her had been maddening, but it was the pinched look of masked dread whenever Valkorion appeared that awakened something deeply irrational inside of Theron. Even all these years later, the memory of her clinging to him outside the Coalition Camp on Yavin still stung like a fresh wound, with her broken confession of what the ghost trapped in her head had done to her on their first encounter playing on a constant loop. The need for him to stand between her and that monster was almost as primal as it was implausible, an instinctual holdover from less civilized times.
He had just forgotten that those protective instincts cut both ways.
"He was just a means to an end, and he's served that purpose now."
She was almost turned completely away from Theron, so that he could only just see a slim profile of her face, but the even so, he could see her brow tighten a fraction. "Purpose? What purpose does this serve?"
Ah, it probably was too much for him to hope that she hadn't noticed the… less than prime condition that he was in. His embarrassment at needing to be rescued aside, the fact that she was barely holding on to her normally strong and sound composure was worrying in itself. Whether it was rooted in her worry for him, or due to a slow erosion by the ghost in her head, it still meant that she wasn't focused like she normally was. And that could prove to be deadly.
"You are here, are you not?"
"I am," she said slowly, "but if you wanted to talk, there are other ways to get my attention."
"Oh, you misunderstand me, Commander, it's not you I wish to speak to."
Her brow furrowed. "Then why—?"
"Vitiate," he practically purred the name, "you can stop hiding, I can see you as plain as day."
She stiffened then, jaw tightening as her eyes flicked over her shoulder, as if listening to an unheard conversation. When Theron realized that the parasite in question had just made an appearance, he felt his own blood start to boil, Dirai's words about the dead Emperor hollowing out his host echoing endlessly. It was only interrupted by an angry cry of rage.
"Why do you refuse to speak to me?" Dirai snarled.
Grey started, looking confused. "But I am—"
"Not you, you simpering idiot!"
She had the grace to look offended, even as she continued to hold her protective stance, lightsaber not wavering in the slightest.
"My Emperor, I am a much more worthy host—"
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Theron muttered.
"You can not be serious," she echoed the sentiment flatly. "The man you called Emperor was a monster—"
"I will not stand here and be lectured by some Jedi," this time Dirai did spit, as if the word left a foul taste in his mouth, "who squanders the gift of true power."
"He does not make a good point," she muttered darkly, and it took Theron a moment to realize that the comment wasn't directed at him or Dirai.
"Even now you refuse to reveal yourself to me," Dirai seethed. "What must I do to get your attention?"
"Um," Theron said quietly, "maybe now isn't the best time for a side-bar with your unwanted guest."
"If I could make him go away, I would," she muttered.
Okay, point taken. That was the purpose of this whole, now obviously useless, escapade.
"Perhaps you need me to prove my worthiness?" Dirai continued to mutter to himself. "Yes, a show of power, a proper… sacrifice." The Sith slid his gaze to the Jedi across from him, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. "Yes."
Before there was any time to react, a bolt of lightning shot out in their direction, which Grey immediately intercepted with her lightsaber. The purple lightning crackled off the blade, and the Sith gave out an angry cry as he lunged towards her. She drew her second saber in a flash, intercepted his blade before it had a chance to land the killing blow. Their blades were locked together in a quiet tense moment as they stared each other down, before they burst apart, sparks and lightning nearly blinding. By the time the black spots disappeared from Theron's vision they were already crossing blades again, trading blows faster than the eye could see.
Theron tried to keep track of what was going on, but it was akin to trying to watch an individual spark in a sputter of flames. The light show of the clashing sabers danced around the room, the echoes of the crashing blades almost drowned out by the rumbles of distant explosions. Whoever else as here was making quite a show of things as well.
The duel continued to migrate around the room, sparks flying on each clash of the blade. Dirai was a master of the Juyo form, a pure expression of power as he tried to force the entirety of his will into every swing of his blade and beat his opponent into submission as he wielded his saber in a tight-two handed grip. Occasionally he would switch to one-hand, trying to blast his opponent off her feet with his lightning and attempting to sneak in a killing blow at the same time. On the other end, Grey preferred speed to pure force, twin blades whirling in an unending flurry, feet constantly in motion as she twirled to and fro. She made the Ataru form look almost as natural as breathing, her blades seemingly an extension of herself.
It was a dance that Theron had become intimately familiar with, as when they were fighting side-by-side she seemed to move in rhythm with him, filling in the blank spaces and openings each other left, like pieces of a puzzle fitting together. There was something comforting about feeling her at his back, knowing that nothing would slip past those defenses. Without ever speaking a word, they could predict each others moves, almost moving as one person rather than two. It was a familiarity brought on by trust and intimacy. It should have been a constrictive style of fighting, having to move and compensate for the other person, but somehow it was freeing, allowing him to just exist in the moment.
Still trapped against the table, he could only watch the furious duel from the sidelines — absently feeling like he was missing a limb. Occasionally when the two Force users slowed enough to be seen by the naked eye, he would see a slip in her defenses that he would normally fill, and desperately hoped that her opponent didn't notice.
After what seemed like an eternity, Dirai let out one angry cry of rage, bringing down his saber in a powerful arc that would cleave durasteel in two. She caught the strike, barely, between her two crossed blades, the power of the blow nearly forcing her to her knees. Even from the distance, Theron could see her muscles twitch and twinge as she struggled to stay upright. He unconsciously jerked forward to her aid, but had gotten so focused on the duel he had neglected to finish his own daring escape. The cuffs held him securely in place, and he could only watch helplessly as a familiar cruel smile quirked at Dirai's cracked lips.
"Now you see," his arrogant chuckle practically echoed across the walls of the expansive room, "how your pathetic upbringing has failed you. It's a pity, with that passion you might have made a fine Sith."
And like he had flipped a switch, suddenly it wasn't such a struggle for her to maintain her stance. Shards of permaglass and cracked pieces of duracrete began to float in the air, as if carried by an invisible wave emanating from the small Jedi. A bright, almost blinding light nearly obscured her figure as she stood to her full height, forcing the crossed twin blades towards Dirai.
"I am no Sith." There was an edge of steel beneath that seemingly calm tone, a clear warning to her opponent. "And none will ever hold any power over me."
"You Jedi and your stupid platitudes—"
With another burst of light, Dirai was thrown across the room back towards Theron, saber tossed from his hand and rolling across the floor. She advanced forward calmly, the bright halo of light limning her figure like an avenging angel. The Sith looked up at the approaching Jedi, and for a moment, an actual flash of fear stole across his face.
"You are done here, my lord." There was such a heavy amount of sarcasm laced into those two words, Theron almost didn't recognize that it had come from her. He had never been prouder in is life. "My companion and I will be leaving now."
The Sith pushed himself up to his knees, an angry sneer twisting his features into a grotesque visage, as the purple sparks of lightning danced across his fingertips. "I think not."
Without any further warning, his hand shot up, but not at his dueling opponent, but back towards his captive still strapped to the table. Theron saw the lightning rush towards him, but could only twist helplessly in his bonds, unable to get out of the way. The soft cry of dismay had barely reached his ears before a feminine figure had leapt in front of him just in time to take the full force of the blast.
She dropped to her knees, muscles twitching as the lightning crackled around her. Her sabers dropped from her hands as Dirai cackled triumphantly, apparently channeling all of his rage into the long, continuous blast. Theron's vision descended into a crimson haze, heart hammering in his ears as he jerked uselessly against the shackles.
"As I said, your Jedi failings betray you. Compassion will always be your undoing." The discarded saber flew back into Dirai's hand, red blade hissing to life as he stalked towards his downed prey, holding her in place with the lightning shooting from his fingertips. "Now my Emperor will be freed from his pathetic bonds, and will take up a more worthy vessel."
Grey could hardly raise her head under the onslaught of lightning, the muscles in her cheeks twitching as the electricity arced across her entire body. He raised the blade of his saber high for a final, powerful strike. So preoccupied with preemptively savoring his victory, Dirai had forgotten just one thing.
"Toxicity ten."
Theron practically snarled the command to his bracers, his free arm aimed straight at the Sith's exposed neck. The poison dart shot out from its hidden compartment with a quiet snick and buried itself into Dirai's trachea. The unrelenting lightning ceased with a sputter of sparks as Dirai staggered back, hand clawing at the dart embedded into his neck. The distinctive thrum was the only warning the cultist had before a dark purple blade speared through his chest, quickly ending his threat before the fast acting poison even had a chance to enter his bloodstream.
He dropped to the ground with a loud thud, eyes staring vacantly up at the ceiling. Grey slowly rose to her feet, not deactivating her lightsaber until she had approached the body on the floor and ensured that he was dead. When she finally turned back to face Theron, there was a practiced mask of calm in place that almost perfectly hid the storm of emotions brewing behind her eyes. The red haze of adrenaline had only started to fade from his own vision, and he was incapable of processing much beyond the mad thumping of his own heart.
She swallowed as she gingerly walked back towards Theron, although be it due to the strain of the duel, or an internal battle she was struggling with was unclear. She glanced at the metal cuffs briefly, as if sizing them up. A dark blond brow narrowed in contemplation, before she shot him a stern look. "Don't move."
Her saber reignited in a flash as it glanced across his bindings, and was deactivated and stowed before he could even blink. The cuffs had been the only thing keeping him upright, and he would have crumpled to the ground in a ungraceful heap if two strong hands had not been waiting to catch him.
"Sorry," he mumbled, as she was forced to bear all of his weight as he tried to find his feet after three days of confinement.
Her arms encircled him in an embrace that was meant to both keep him upright, and also convey the relief that was pouring off both of them. He wanted to return the gesture in kind, but his limbs weren't cooperating at the moment. Everything felt heavy, like was trying to lift an entire starship rather than just stand on his own two feet.
"Are you—?" His vision swam for a moment, probably from being fully upright for the first time in days.
"I'm all right," she murmured, pulling him a little closer. "Let's focus on you."
"Just need a moment." His tongue felt a little thick, like whatever had effected his limbs had spread everywhere. "Then I'll be good to go."
She didn't seem to be listening as she pulled her hand away and stared at it, unable to see anything but the red smear that had come from the ragged, unhealed wound on his side. When she did speak, her voice shook with unrepressed emotion. "What have they done to you?"
"…it's just a scratch."
She peered into his eyes a little too closely for it to be a romantic gesture. "They drugged you too?"
Theron shrugged helplessly. If he needed to list everything that had happened during his three days of captivity, they were going to be here for far too long. Her examination was cut short by the ground rocking as another explosion shook the building, and it was only her firm grip under his shoulders that kept Theron on his feet.
"What the hell was that?"
"My backup."
"Backup's loud," he muttered.
"He's more of a distraction," she said. "I had intended to free you with minimal violence. Your host's arrival was unexpected."
He snorted derisively. "You're the Jedi master of the understatement."
She frowned at him worriedly. "We should get you out of here."
"Yeah, okay," he said, summoning his strength and attempting to push away from her hold so he could walk on his own two feet. "This way."
She easily kept her grip on him. "Maybe I should lead?"
"S'okay, I got it—"
"No, I really think you don't—"
Before the argument could descend further, the twin doors leading out from the warehouse to the rest of the building swung open dramatically, the echoes of more explosions triggering off in the distance as one excitable Mon Calmari burst into the room with a triumphant cry of victory.
"Commander, as exciting as this training exercise has been — maybe we should go?"
Theron swung around almost drunkenly, piercing Grey with an incredulous look. "Guss is your backup?"
"What's wrong with that?"
"He's… he's…" Theron gestured inarticulately as the Force user in question nervously danced on the balls of his feet. "Guss."
"I'll have you know, Guss is an excellent student—"
"Commander, as much as I appreciate you defending my honor," Guss cut in, "maybe you can extoll my virtues to this tactless spy as we make a hasty retreat? There are some very angry cultists on my tail!"
She gave him a tight nod, and looped Theron's arm over her shoulders as she started towards the barricaded door leading out to the alleyway. He stumbled alongside her for a few steps, before he pulled away with a sudden burst of energy, circling back the way they came. The exasperated sigh she let out was very un-Jedi-like. He would have told her so, but he was too busy concentrating on keeping one foot in front of the other.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Need my stuff—"
"You could just ask—"
He staggered to a halt in front of the dirty, red jacket that had been nearly forgotten. As he bent over to scoop it up, his head swam again. Only the sudden presence of two steady hands fisting into shirt kept him from taking a tumble to the dirty floor. His fingers found purchase on the red leather, clutching it protectively as his very patient caretaker hauled him back upright.
"Can we go now?"
"Yes," Theron said airily. "I can walk though."
She shook her head at him, lips pressing together in a thin line. The sound of feet pounding in the distance caused her to look over her shoulder sharply, and she barked out a terse order to Guss. Theron tried to parse the words, but it was like trying to listen to something underwater. At the urging of the hand pressed into his back he got his shaking feet to take a few shuffling steps towards freedom. If he just focused on his legs, and not the way the world swayed and darkened at the edges of his vision then everything would be fine.
Guss's lightsaber made quick work of the debris in front of the door, and for the first time in three days Theron could taste freedom. As they stumbled out into the dingy alleyway, he took in a deep breath of the outside air, relishing in the feel of it as the darkness in his vision rolled up to greet him.