A/N:in which cori and lana have A Very Important Talk, the wrath and the barsen'thor both make plans, and rei takes things seriously

Cori had boarded plenty of Imperial ships in her time, but never quite like this. It wasn't exactly peaceful, given the number of troopers stationed in the hallways or the gruff manner in which the Imperial captain had met her, but it certainly wasn't quite hostile, either.

It was an odd situation, either way. The entire thing had been orchestrated by Darth Nox, in an attempt to secure a handful of relics the Jedi possessed. Some had been reclaimed from the Sith, and some had simply originated on now-Imperial worlds, but Nox felt they belonged back in the Empire.

Cori had been with Satele when they'd received the call a few weeks before, and the task of overseeing the transfer had fallen to her, somewhat by default.

Send someone from Ziost, Nox had insisted, and not the Major, because I'm not sure I'm capable of letting her leave alive the next time I see her.

The admission hadn't exactly given any comfort to either Cori or Satele, but after working out a few more details, an accord had been reached and Cori had left to rendezvous with the ship on the edges of Imperial space. It was a mission that would have unnerved her either way, but she found herself relaxing almost instinctively when she met her contact.

"Lana?"

The captain who'd escorted her through the ship gave her a stern glare. "Minister Beniko," he corrected, adding, "I assume you're familiar with the Jedi?"

"Yes." Lana gave a curt nod. "Excuse us, Captain, while Master Cori and I work out the details of the transfer."

Cori followed slowly, some of her relief shifting towards suspicion, as Lana led her into what seemed to be an office. "I was assured that the details had already been agreed upon. The artifacts are on my ship and ready to be unloaded, and the prisoners—"

"Will be delivered to you, as promised, along with the data on Ziost," Lana confirmed as she closed the door, keying in a code to presumably lock it. "We didn't… Ziost didn't leave much time for discussion," she admitted, turning from the door to face Cori and looking almost sheepish. But it disappeared, quickly replaced by an expression of intent.

"Mixing business and pleasure, Minister?" Cori attempted to feign some measure of coyness, hoping to hide the surprise washing over her. This wasn't something she'd expected of Lana — she hadn't even expected Lana, honestly — but she did have a point, and Ziost had left them on something of an awkward goodbye. "But why… how are you even here? I thought I'd be meeting with one of Nox's people."

Lana nodded. "That was the original plan, yes. When Nox presented the arrangement, she mentioned you would likely be the one the Republic sent to oversee the transfer, and I offered to go in place of whoever Nox was planning to send." She paused, shrugging a bit. "She trusts me, and in truth, I needed some time away from your sister to get work done. I'm worried about her, Cori," Lana added. "I've never seen her so… driven."

Cori hesitated, torn by her sudden concern over Zaara and her desire to steer the conversation back towards Ziost. "What's so bad about driven?"

"It isn't just ambition," Lana clarified, "it's reckless and without sense. Even Vector says he's only seen her like this once before, though he wouldn't elaborate. I believe Ziost is… still affecting her."

"I could… I don't know. I'm not sure how to help," Cori admitted.

"She'll work through it. It will take time, though that's to be expected of something like this," Lana reasoned, her tone distracted. "What about you? Have you… worked through it?"

Cori opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't force out a coherent thought and frowned as she attempted to sort out her answer. "Like you said, it'll take time. It's easier, this time, knowing I won't be the only one searching for him."

Lana looked away, lips pursing in thought. "I certainly can't speak for the rest of the Empire, but I can say you won't be alone this time," she assured her, leaning forward slightly as she reached for Cori's hands. She glanced down, watching as her pale thumbs glided over the soft aqua of Cori's skin. "And if Vitiate were ever again to…"

Warmth blossomed through Cori's chest, warmth brought on by the concern and compassion in Lana's voice, warmth that had been so rare upon her return to Tython from Dromund Kaas. "He won't take me, Lana. He won't take my mind from me. Or me from you." Her voice was nearly a whisper, barely audible even to herself; but there was a confession, of sorts, in her words, an admission that had become truth on Yavin and had gone too long unspoken.

If there were some way she could stay with Lana, to wake beside her and fight beside her and not have to worry about the war, Cori would take it — she would accept it without question. She tugged her hands free and closed what little distance still remained between them, her lips meeting Lana's in a kiss that was almost desperate; as one of Cori's hands tangled in Lana's hair, she felt that same warmth spread throughout her entire body, leaving her as breathless as the kiss was.

As they parted, Cori let her forehead rest against Lana's, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I miss you."

Lana gave a breathy laugh. "I hope you don't think I'm finished with you," she countered, punctuating the statement with a light push that left Cori backed against the desk in the center of the office. "My beautiful, stubborn, ridiculous, Jedi." Each endearment was emphasized with a kiss, Lana's voice growing quieter as her lips moved across Cori's jawline.

"Lana—" Cori leaned back a bit — not that she could move much, given her position. Her eyes searched Lana's face, taking in everything, every inch and every feature. The line of her lips, the curve of her jaw, the softness in her eyes that seemed so out of place against the hard glow and color of her irises. Cori realized, after another moment of silence, that Lana had begun to draw back, her brow creasing in worry.

"Cori? I shouldn't have presumed—"

"I love you." Those weren't the words she'd intended to say, weren't words she'd realized she was ready to say, but she said them and she meant them, more than she'd truly meant anything in quite some time. The detached confidence that served her as a Jedi couldn't compare to the certainty she felt at that moment. "I love you," she repeated, unable to hold back a smile the second time she spoke.

Lana blinked, her expression remaining unchanged for a fraction of a second before mirroring Cori's smile. "I love you, too. In truth, I think I have for a while. I just never imagined…" She paused, letting out a slow breath and giving her head a little shake. "This was a dalliance, something I was supposed to have put behind me by the time we met again on Rishi."

"I'm glad you didn't." Cori laughed, a light sound that was almost a giggle. She didn't know what to do, didn't have anything else to say; she'd never even come close to saying I love you to anyone before — not like this, not when the Jedi taught so strongly against the notion. All at once, she was young and uncertain and inexperienced, and settled for pulling Lana into another kiss. Cori lifted herself up to sit on the edge of the desk, hands grasping at Lana to keep her pressed tight against her. She was distracted, the heat of Lana's lips and tongue and breath scattering her thoughts, but she wasn't quite distracted enough to forget she was on an Imperial warship. "How long, exactly, can these negotiations take?"

Without answering, Lana cleared her throat and leaned past her to press a button on the desk's commlink. "Captain, I believe we'll be delayed. Double check the status of the prisoners and verify the authenticity of the Jedi's artifacts. The Jedi and I are not to be interrupted until we've reached an accord — understood?"

"Of course, Minister."

As Lana straightened, she raised an eyebrow. "Does that answer your question?"

"I believe it does."

"Do you think Jaesa is ready to be a Lord?"

Malavai was silent as he thought, his careful contemplation easy to read through the Force. "I believe you've trained her well."

Lys pressed her lips into a small smile. "That isn't what I asked," she chastised lightly, pressing closer to Malavai to make room on the sidewalk as a young man in acolyte robes passed them. They themselves were in no hurry, having left plenty early to take advantage of a break in the otherwise ever-present rain, electing to walk from their apartment and catch a taxi to the Citadel from further in the city.

It was a perfectly relaxing morning — or would've been, if not for Lys' upcoming meeting with Darth Marr. She knew little of what to expect, but there had been mention of a proposal the Republic had made, and evidently her presence was required.

For now, she had another, slightly less pressing topic on her mind.

"She's almost as familiar with the Sith code as she is the Jedi code," Lys commented thoughtfully, "even if she doesn't adhere to any of the more common translations. Her combat skills are exceptional, and her talent with the Force is unparalleled."

"You sound as if you've already made up your mind."

"Perhaps I have."

Malavai gave a quiet laugh, then pointed out, "You'll have quite a bit of free time, then, without an apprentice to train. Unless you plan to officially take on Ashara's training?"

"No, not unless Nox wishes me to." They continued in silence for a moment, then Lys admitted, "I would like to speak with the overseers on Korriban, though. It's certainly past time that I take a second apprentice."

As they reached the inner portion of Dromund Kaas, they made their way to a taxi that would take them to the Citadel. Lys headed straight for Marr's office, and Malavai remained just outside, in the same room where Marr's Pureblood advisor typed silently away at a terminal. Darth Marr, who had clearly been waiting on Lys, set aside a datapad as she arrived, offering little in the way of a greeting.

"Lord Wrath."

Lys nodded as she stepped into Marr's office, feeling almost exposed at attending the meeting alone. She'd become so accustomed to having someone so constantly at her side — whether Malavai or Vette or Jaesa — that it was almost unnerving to attend to business without them.

But that's what the Empire currently required of her, so she would. "Darth Marr. You mentioned a proposal?"

He crossed his arms, and Lys could sense his frustration. "I recently reached out to the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order," he stated bluntly. "Our previous talks of a potential alliance in hunting Vitiate were fruitless, but I believe she now wishes to devote time and resources to such an alliance in the wake of Ziost."

"An alliance," she repeated carefully. "Such as the one on Yavin 4, or something more… stable?"

"It will not be permanent, no. Nor will it encompass the entirety of the Empire. In addition to the Imperial resources we will devote to finding Vitiate, a smaller fleet will have Republic assistance. The extent of that assistance," Marr continued, "is yet to be decided. Once the situation here has stabilized, we will be meeting with Grandmaster Shan to discuss how to continue."

Lys said nothing, though she nodded in recognition; if Satele was willing to personally see to this possible alliance, rather than simply sending Cori or some other Jedi, it was a sign, in Lys' opinion, that the Republic was actually going to take the Empire seriously as an — however temporary — ally. Her own involvement was… slightly more curious. She'd once had indirect ties to Vitiate himself, yes, but it had been months since she'd been contacted, and her last meeting with the Hand had made it quite clear she would put the Empire before an increasingly cryptic and absent leader. Her skills were more useful when applied to the war effort, she was sure. "And my role?"

"To accompany me." Marr paused for a moment, uncrossing his arms and staring down at his desk where he'd set the datapad, as if searching for further clarification there. "Shan respects you, as does her Battlemaster. And your connection to Vitiate could prove useful. For these negotiations, the two of us should suffice — I don't believe the Republic needs a show of force from us, nor do I wish to involve the Dark Council unless absolutely necessary."

"I would agree that smaller numbers would placate the Jedi," Lys conceded slowly, her words cautious. She didn't know if the two of them going alone would be the best idea; it was going to take more than two Sith — albeit quite powerful Sith, both in strength of combat and influence — to stop Vitiate. "This is a matter that concerns the entire Empire, is it not? The Council, and Sith Intelligence, at the very least—"

Marr cut off her argument with a sharp shake of his head. "The Council would debate rather than take action, and Intelligence needs time to rebuild and restabilize. For now, we are simply meeting with the Jedi to determine how to proceed."

"Understood." Lys gave a respectful bob of her head, clasping her hands behind her back. "However the Empire requires me to serve."

A meeting with Saresh was never a good thing, in T'sereen's opinion. The Chancellor was ambitious, and could be crafty on occasion; mostly, she was brash and overconfident, and T'sereen had experienced her fill of that with the Jedi.

However, Saresh was also powerful, and T'sereen wasn't above taking advantage of her resources and clout.

So when the Republic called, T'sereen had chosen to answer; whatever it was Saresh wished to discuss, it related to the Jedi and, she suspected, the consequences of the destruction of Ziost. The Jedi had remained somewhat silent on that particular subject, having little more to offer than tired platitudes. Saresh herself had received as much criticism as she had support, drawing questions about her ruthlessness and her dedication to the Republic as the full extent of the situation on Ziost had reached the general public.

As for T'sereen, she was just glad she'd been nowhere near Imperial space when it had happened. And yet, despite not being at all involved, she was now meeting with Saresh and would have to scrounge up some sort of opinion that the Chancellor would find favorable.

But as she walked into Saresh's office, she wasn't met with the typical pleasantries she'd become accustomed to during political talks.

"I don't trust the Jedi," Saresh began without preamble, sliding her datapad a centimeter to the right in some sort of attempt to make her already orderly desk even tidier. "Satele intends to work with the Empire to track down Vitiate. We already know that Master Cori is willing to cooperate with Imperials if their goals align with the Jedi's. But I don't trust them," she repeated.

T'sereen frowned, her eyes narrowing. "I'm no longer with the Jedi. If Satele is the one organizing this, she isn't going to allow me to interfere. Or," she amended, "whatever it is you're asking."

"Not interfere," Saresh corrected, glancing at her closed door before turning towards the window. "You and I both know that Satele will send Cori after Vitiate and be satisfied. And yet, that hasn't ever worked. But tracking down Sith — that's what you do, isn't it?"

T'sereen pursed her lips, holding back the urge to let her lekku curl in annoyance. "It has been, in the past," she answered truthfully, not liking the turn the conversation was taking. "Several years ago, I followed and struck down fallen Jedi, and as the Barsen'thor I spent years hunting down the Children of the Emperor. It's hardly a resume worthy of going after Vitiate alone."

"Alone?" Saresh raised an eyebrow, her own lekku twitching with amusement. "You misunderstand — I'm offering whatever assistance I can give. I don't trust the Jedi to be successful, but I have every confidence in you, T'sereen. I want the Emperor gone as much as any Jedi, but I refuse to sacrifice the Republic in the process. It's a sentiment you share, I believe."

She considered the proposal, her mind automatically running through any threats or blackmail or bribes Saresh was holding back in case T'sereen refused. But truthfully, T'sereen wasn't sure she would refuse; Saresh was right — she would gladly go after Vitiate, especially if she could do so without following Satele's example of bowing to the Empire.

After a moment, T'sereen nodded. "What did you have in mind?"

Rei stared out the window, the heavy rainfall obscuring all but the darkness of the forests below and the occasional spark of lightning that crept across the sky. Behind her, an early morning news program played on the vidscreen, and its blue glow flickered throughout the room like a soft echo of the storm outside. The wind and rain beat against the windows but otherwise it was quiet, the only other sound coming from the dull tapping of Rei's short fingernails against the arm of the chair she was curled up in, focused less on the weather and more on her own scattered and aimless thoughts.

She was Lord Reiyaxa. Darth Nox. Dark Lord and Forcewalker and head of one of the Empire's most prominent Spheres.

But before all of that, she was a survivor. She fought and she clawed her way to each of those titles and positions, and she held on to them so tightly that no one could ever tear them from her grasp.

And now the galaxy was changing, and Rei was still clinging to her titles and power as if it were inevitable that she would lose them. The Empire must change if it is to remain strong, Marr had told her once, when they were planning the infiltration of Makeb, and Rei assumed this wasn't what he'd had in mind. They'd lost their Emperor, allied for a time with the Republic, and watched as the life force of an entire planet was drained. Rei had lost as much, and had found herself caring for someone she would've previously seen only as an enemy — an agent with a cocky half-grin and a penchant for disaster and a spark of idealism and devotion.

That changed nothing, she told herself, not really. She was still Lord Reiyaxa. Darth Nox. Forcewalker. The Empire needed her, even if it was a shifting, struggling Empire; she had no room for doubts or hesitation or even the remnants of grief from Ziost. The things she wanted for her happiness were less important than the things she needed for her survival. The ache in her chest was less heavy than the burden on her shoulders.

The Empire was changing, and Rei still clung to her titles and power as if she could stop it from happening.

A/N: well here we are. one year and 100k words later.

i want to say 1) thanks to everyone for reading! i appreciate every bit of support and as much as this is the most shamelessly self indulgent thing i've ever done, it certainly helps to know i'm not the only one enjoying this.

and 2) i'm far from finished. i never imagined a 700 word one shot about an accidental otp would turn into this mess of a project, but it has and the next part is already underway. i'll be posting the revised version of "recompense" (the prequel to this) thoughout the rest of the month, but i'll get the kotfe/timeskip up around new years!