Corso froze in panic when he exited the 'fresher and Ky was gone. The balcony doors stood ajar, curtains billowing into the room, the hems flapping against the floor. He darted to the balcony, leaned against the railing and scanned the area below. His heart hammered in his throat. Where is she? Relief washed over him when he caught movement in a copse of palm trees not far from the inn.
The rickety stairs tacked onto the building from balcony to beach creaked under his weight as his bare feet thumped on every other step. He sprinted across the sand that squeaked and kicked up in minuscule clumps at his passing until he slowed his pace and came to a halt by her side.
Ky stood in the dim remnants of light, her shoulder propped on the trunk of a palm. Her hair fanned out in the breeze that steadily increased in intensity as a precursor to the fast-approaching storm, her eyes fixated on the wall of clouds.
The storm-driven waves crashed against the shore, and occasional claps of thunder rolled through the twilight air. He moved closer and strained to hear her voice above the escalating din.
"When I was a little girl," she began, "I used to stand in the yard and watch rain move in over the fields. Sometimes my father stood with me, his big, rough hands on my shoulders. I'd lean against his legs as the gray curtain of water approached. The wind lifted the scents of life from the bones of the earth; dirt and grass and mama's flowers, all mixed together in the smell of home."
A forlorn smile tugged at her lips. "Gone now except for the memories. The rain was a promise that all would be well, that life would continue, renewed and pure, each drop a fresh start." She turned to look at him. "That's why I chase the rain when I can. I'm still waiting for it to keep its promise."
He swept her hair back where the wind had blown several strands across her face, holding it in place in the cradle of his hand. Lightly brushing his thumb along the curve of her ear, he turned his face skyward as the first drops splattered against the fronds waving above their heads.
"We should get back before we're both soaked," he said.
"You're missing the point." She hooked her fingers into his waistband and tugged him forward, aligning the long curves of his body with hers.
His untucked shirt rippled in the wind until the downpour pasted the white cloth to his form, outlining every bend and plane against the dark.
A flash of lightning illuminated her face, and he kissed the droplets of water from her lashes and tracked the beads that ran down her cheek and the soft line of her neck.
He skimmed the sodden shirt from her shoulders, and she supported her bare back against the rough trunk of the tree. "You're gonna get all scratched up," he objected.
"I know. Would you prefer the sand?" she teased.
"No, but—," he started to protest again, and she silenced him when her mouth crushed around his words.
His hands slid from her shoulders to her breasts to linger for a while. Her tongue licked the water from his lips, sipped the rain where it dripped from his chin.
"Make me feel the storm," she murmured into his ear.
Soaked to the skin, they shed their clothes, dropping them into soggy piles at their feet. She locked her fingers behind his neck, he hooked his hands beneath her thighs and lifted her hips to his. They became fluid motion, bodies gliding in the deluge, rain-slick and glistening in the brief flashes that streaked across the night.
The sharp edges of wood dug into her skin gouging stripes of fire down her back. She drank the pain and rode the man held captive in the circles of her limbs. Ankles crossed at the small of his back, arms coiled over his shoulders and fingers tangled in the dripping length of his hair, she met each plunge and thrust with equal force.
She floated on the crest of the storm and let the rain cleanse the guilt of her past and the sins of her future. The heat at her core churned into pressure seeking release, and they came like thunder, in rolling, concussive waves that trembled and rumbled deep inside.
He slumped against her, his panting breath puffing in hot blasts against her neck. They clung to each other until the heat of their bodies gave way to the chill of the night and remains of the fast-moving storm.
"Stars, woman," he said as he lowered her feet to the sand. He planted a kiss on her lips and bent to retrieve their discarded clothing, then looked in dismay at the lighted area around the inn.
"No way around that," Ky laughed and grabbed a shirt to hold across her breasts and drape to cover the dark patch at the apex of her thighs.
"Guess not," he grumbled and pressed the wet mass against his manly bits with a shiver.
They made a mad dash back to the room, depositing wet, sandy footprints across the floor, and dark splotches where they'd dripped onto the wood. Corso retrieved towels and began rubbing Ky's arms and legs, trying to bring some warmth back to her shivering body, ignoring the fact that he was chilled as well.
"You're going to catch your death," she said and snatched a towel to swipe across his chest and back, working her way from shoulder to calf. She cast a baleful glance at the 'fresher which contained only a sonic. A hot water shower would have been a welcome treat.
"Lemme see your back," said Corso, rotating her by the shoulders until the lamplight shown upon her raw, abraded skin. "Why the hell would you let me do this to you," he snapped.
"You didn't do anything. It's only a few scratches."
"A few scratches, my ass." He stomped across the room and returned with a jar of kolto gel. "Hold still."
The cooling balm absorbing into her skin and his gentle touch quickly relieved the stinging sensation, and she stifled a yawn behind her hand.
Corso bundled her under the covers, secured the doors and crawled between the sheets, drawing her snuggly to his side.
"I don't think I'll ever understand you," he said.
"I hope not. I'd lose all my mystery, and you'd have nothing left to figure out."
"I figured out that I love you. I reckon that's enough."
They spent the remainder of the three days awaiting Thorne's arrival strolling along the boardwalks, perusing wares in several kiosks scattered around the market district and stopping in various shops. Munitions and clothing topped the list since Ky and Corso both had lost most of their personal belongings in the crash on Tatooine.
They avoided the cantinas and warily scanned their surroundings—Bowdaar and Akaavi perpetually on high alert. Open air bistros and brightly canopied stalls provided the source of their meals with avenues of escape carefully scouted before sitting down.
Gus checked in twice a day but preferred to spend most of his time in the ocean, a Mon Calamari luxury ill afforded on a freighter and one he was unwilling to forego.
Early mornings and evenings, Ky and Corso visited the beaches when sunrise and sunset painted the clouds in vast swaths of purple, orange, and mauve. Barefoot and pants rolled up, they splashed through the water, dug their toes in the sand or sat and listened to the ebb and flow of the tide.
"I love it here." She'd said, sitting wedged between his thighs, resting against his chest.
"I thought you loved space."
"Space is where I live, it's home, but I'm at peace here. I can sleep and forget for a little while."
The call from Thorne came in late on the evening of the third day. "You know the hidden landing?" she asked.
"Yeah, I remember," answered Ky.
"Tomorrow morning. Come alone."
"Alone's not a good thing for me right now."
"You're safe Ky. You have my word, and I have my reasons. Thorne out."
Thunder boomed sending vibrations through the wooden building that Ky could feel under her bare feet. Rain pelted the glass panes of the balcony door and drummed on the metal roof. She sat on the edge of the bed, the folds of the flowered Cyrene silk robe Corso had bought for her falling away from her crossed legs.
Corso sat down beside her, the springs protesting under his added bulk. "Alone? I don't like it."
"Neither do I, but Beryl would've given me a sign if there was any danger. Some word that only she and I understood. Something she could fit into a sentence without raising suspicion. I'll be alright."
She combed her fingers through his hair, the top of the robe gaping open above the loosely tied sash. "This could be our last night here. Let's not waste it fighting."
The robe fluttered to the floor in a garden of fuchsia flowers and leaves of variegated green. The bed springs sang harmony to the chorus of the storm.
Protests registered and dismissed, Ky left the inn alone. Not much traffic this early in the morning and an eerie silence hung over the town. She wound her way along the boardwalk and down into the slum area, her bootheels crunching on the layers of shell built up over time. Hand on blaster grip, she occasionally stopped to listen, hearing nothing but the lap of water and her own breathing.
She climbed the wooden planks leading up to a single ship docked on a round platform at the end of a cul-de-sac and paused. The whine of hydraulics preceded the lowering of the ramp, and a familiar female voice yelled, "It's Beryl. I'm coming out."
Dishwater blond hair and a scar that ran from eyebrow to cheek appeared above the open smile of a face that Ky knew, but she wasn't ready to give up her grip on her weapon.
"Hello, Beryl. It's been a while. Who else is on board?"
"Just one other," answered Thorne.
The man revealed himself little by little as he walked down the ramp, black boots, long muscular legs, trim waist, broad shoulders and a tattooed face beneath slicked back black hair. A tattooed face Ky thought she'd never see again.
Skavak!
The blaster was in her hand and aimed before the thought tickled her mind. "What the fuck is he doing here?"
"Ky. You promised not to shoot," said Beryl.
"I never promised, and I haven't shot...yet."
"Hello, Captain. Miss me?" His customary smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and blue eyes twinkled with mocking humor.
"You might try and not piss off the woman with a grudge, and a loaded blaster pointed at your head. Where's my million credits?" Ky spat between clenched teeth.
He spread his hands in a gesture of appeasement. "I'm unarmed and feeling a bit exposed out here. Perhaps you'll step inside so we can chat?"
"And just why the hell would I do that?"
"Your million credits, and then some," he answered and flashed the smug grin she'd been expecting.
"Please, Ky," said Beryl. "You can say no and walk away, but I think you'll want to hear what he has to say."
"And you believe him?"
"I don't trust him, but I do believe him. Now, please come inside."
"For you, Beryl, but he stays ahead of me. I have no qualms about shooting him in the back if he so much as twitches."
She sat across from Skavak, her blaster on the table, her hand on the blaster. "Keep your hands where I can see them, and you might want to ask permission to scratch your nose," said Ky. "So, make your pitch and be quick about it."
"You ever hear of the Rommi treasure?" asked Skavak.
"It's a myth, an urban legend," answered Ky.
"No, it's real," he said.
Ky pushed her chair back and stood up. "Okay, I'm done. Thanks for the laugh." She turned her attention to Thorne. "I thought you'd know better."
Skavak bounded from his seat, his hands held up. "Just hear me out. I have proof."
"What happened, Skavak?" Ky sneered. "The Jackal get jacked? Scheme backfire? You screw the wrong person?"
"Something like that. Let's just say a coalition of wealthy investors and a Moff's son make prickly bed partners. I'm in deep this time, wanted in twelve different sectors and this is a way out for all of us."
"So, you reached too high." A derisive snicker caught in her throat. "You should have stayed in the swamp where the smell of your shit wasn't recognized until some poor slob stepped in it."
"Point taken." He scowled. "You interested or not?"
Ky retook her seat, blaster still on the table. "Why me? And if you say it's because you're sorry for past deeds, I'll shoot you on principle."
"Not sorry at all, it was just business." He sat down as well, hands in the open. "You have a certain reputation for getting in and out of impossible places. Don't know how you do it, don't care, but we need you for this."
"Go on."
"Ever hear of a sector in the Redoubt known as the Eidolon?"
Her eyebrows rose in disbelief. "You want me to fly into the Ghost? Are you out of your fucking mind?"
"I've seen his evidence, heard the transmissions," argued Beryl. "I've spent every last credit to upgrade my ship's shields, weapons, and engines. The rewards are worth the risk, and I've never known you to back down from a challenge."
"And my people?" asked Ky.
"It's a three-person job, and I don't care to share my secrets outside this circle," said Skavak. "Small is easier to contain."
"And betray," snorted Ky.
"You misunderstand, Captain. This is a long-term endeavor. Get in, take what we can, get out, unload, go back for more. At least three trips, if the legend holds true. The Chiss alone will pay a bloody fortune for the return of their stolen property."
"The Eidolon can't be mapped, beacons don't work," said Ky. "I think you might be overestimating my talents."
"If there's one thing I've learned, it's to not over or underestimate anything about you, Captain, especially your talents." He licked his lips and fixed her with a narrow azure stare. "I've got maps to an entry point, and pieces of a transmission sent from inside the Eidolon. What's your answer?"
Ky sat back in the chair, her thoughts churning and tangling, index finger tapping on the trigger guard. Her eyes locked with Skavak's and something he'd said flashed across her mind, 'this is a way out for all of us.' Those words mirrored what Bowdaar had signed to her that night on the ship, 'find a way for us all.'
Win or lose, live or die, this was the only way she could see to protect her crew and Corso. Maker help me. "Okay, I'm in."
She left Beryl's ship to gather her things and give her crew the news. Akaavi, Bowdaar, and Gus would object, vehemently, but Corso—stars, what was she going to do about Corso? An icy knot of misery coiled in her stomach like a harbinger of ruin.
Three people, standing with arms crossed, greeted her when she entered her room at the inn. Only Corso paced like a Nekkar in a cage, and none of them were smiling.
"I followed and saw you meet with that hut'uun," snarled Akaavi. "You owe us an explanation."
"You're not going to like it." Ky gave them as much detail as she could and left no doubt in anyone's mind that she intended on going.
"You promised you'd never say goodbye, that you'd never leave me," Corso stopped in his tracks, his voice breaking like water over rock.
"I'm not saying goodbye, and I'll be back."
"You don't know that," he snapped. "You can't just run off like this, and with Skavak, of all people."
"Then give me another answer," she shot back, her words trembling out of her mouth. "Give me another way."
She glanced furtively from face to face. "No? Not one idea from any of you?"
"We'll figure it out, Ky. We always do," said Corso.
"That's just it, we don't." Ky's shoulders slumped from the sheer weight of the sum of her decisions. "Largo gone, Scourge gone, the Hutts hunting us, the GenoHaradan, no jobs, doors slammed in my face, nowhere to turn. It's been three fucking years, of running and hiding and I'm tired. You almost died. I can't lose any of you. I couldn't bear it. It would break me."
"And we can't lose you. Dammit! If it were anyone but him," growled Corso. "He betrayed you, he betrayed me. You can't trust him."
"No, but I trust Beryl, and I owe her. She needs me for this."
"And what about us, what about me?" asked Corso, the sound of defeat hung between them. "I need you."
"Then show me another way." Her words came out more of a challenge than a plea.
She watched his face pale to the color of ash then flush to a heated shade of auburn so bright it hurt her eyes.
"Anybody but him." A sharp bitter laugh flew from his lips. "I guess it's really just business after all."
The jagged barb of his gibe struck her like a slap. Upset, angry, worried and scared, he'd taken the cheap shot, throwing her words back in her face. Just business, but Skavak had never been one of them, not that she hadn't been tempted when they first met.
Corso brushed past her and reached for the door. She grabbed his sleeve, and he neither pulled away nor acknowledged her presence, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
"Can you not look at me?"
His words came out in shuddered wisps. "If I look at you I will be on my knees begging you not to go. I would sacrifice what little dignity I have left if I thought it would make a difference, but we both know it wouldn't. Do what you want, you always have. I will only say that if you do this, don't come back for me. Leave me in peace, Ky, you owe me that much."
Rage and anger she knew how to handle, but this frigid wall he'd dropped between them left her unprepared. No rebuttal, apology or justification would suffice to break this impasse. This was Corso's limit, she'd stepped over the line, and there was no going back.
His retreating back, the click of the door closing echoed with the finality of a death knell. She blinked back the burning lake of tears that threatened to overflow. This was what she'd wanted, to set Corso free, protect him—she just hadn't expected it to hurt so damn bad.
She turned to the remainder of her crew and strode over to Bowdaar who grumbled under his breath and refused to meet her eyes.
She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "The Soledad is yours and Akaavi's until I return, old friend. Ship's accounts are full and should keep you flying for a while, perhaps without me, you can pick up a job or two. Take care of each other and keep an eye on Corso if you can, at least until he gets over this."
"You are a fool," snapped Akaavi. "We could have fought them together as we have always done. You didn't even give us a chance or the choice. And Corso will never get over this."
Ky shrugged. "We all make decisions we have to live with, Akaavi, you know this better than most. As for Corso, this isn't the life he would have chosen for himself—he did it for me, and now he's free to start again. The GenoHaradan aren't your run of the mill bounty hunter, even Scourge was hesitant to take them on. When I leave, it'll lure them away from the rest of you. Who knows, if I can pull this off, I can pay the Hutts, maybe even buy my contract from the Geno. I have to try."
"And if you don't come back?" yelped Bowdaar.
"Then your life debt is fulfilled, and you have a ship," she smiled and reached up to scratch under his chin, something he allowed only her to do.
"And you, Gus." She took the Mon Calamari's hand. "You make sure they keep the med bay stocked and keep up with your studies. You've become a damn fine medic, and they're going to need you."
"I'm gonna miss you, Captain. Stay safe and hurry back to us."
Ky strolled to the bed, picked up the robe, and laid it across Akaavi's arm, letting her fingers briefly linger on the silky fabric. "Take this back to the Soledad and hang it in my closet, please. I'll pack the rest to take with me."
"Why not this?" asked the Zabrak.
"Because some things are just too painful to carry."
A/N: Title inspired by the song "Take Something Beautiful" written by Jesse Younan.