mild content warning for threatening behavior and non-consensual elements

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II. The Knife's Edge

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They sat in silence for the next hour or so, Festus pretending to doze off even though Allana could tell he was as alert as ever. She was the tiniest bit curious about how he managed it, what with his injuries. Jedi used healing trances and similar techniques to deal with wounds when medicine was in short supply, but she had no idea what the Sith did in such circumstances. Could the dark side even properly heal? Somehow she doubted it.

As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, Festus cracked one eye open and smirked. He was looking entirely too pleased with himself for no damn reason, and it was getting on her nerves.

"Doesn't that hurt?" she asked, nodding toward his legs. She knew she was being petty, but she didn't care.

He shrugged, although the smirk faded. "I'm used to pain."

Maybe it was the matter-of-fact way he said it that got to her, but she felt the slightest twinge of pity. With his cavalier attitude toward violence and his penchant for chaos and destruction, he made it easy to forget that he'd once been a victim of the Sith himself. Of course, that didn't absolve him of his many crimes or make him any less of a monster now.

Sometimes the dark side brings out what was always there.

She hadn't wanted to believe Anakin when he'd spoken those words so long ago, but now she wondered if he'd been more right than wrong. It was hard to imagine Festus turning out any different than the flippant, deadly man before her. Maybe that wasn't a very Jedi-like position to take, but right now she couldn't afford to feel sorry for him.

He sighed and put his hands behind his head, reclining against the wall. "You don't happen to have any food on you?"

The change in tone was so abrupt it left her stunned for a moment. The sheer gall, after what he'd put her through? "Why would I give you anything?" she said, unable to hide her disdain.

"Because I'm hungry, Your Highness."

Allana mentally chastised herself for letting him get under her skin. "No, I don't have any food."

"I guess that's it then. We're going to die in here."

She glared at him. "No one forced you to follow me. And you're the one who trapped us in here."

He lowered his chin and smiled archly. "I guess I just couldn't resist you."

Allana bit the inside of her lip as she held his gaze. It had never been a secret that Festus was particularly fixated on her, and for a long time she'd assumed it was because she was Ben Skywalker's apprentice or Jacen Solo's daughter, the living embodiment of those he felt had betrayed him, or that it was her royal blood he hated most, as he never failed to bring it up, or that he was just crazy. But as the years went by and she found herself running into him again and again, she'd begun to suspect his obsession was far more intimate than that. He'd never admitted as much out loud, and he'd never stopped trying to kill her either… and yet, she'd still grown complacent, despite the danger. Their last encounter was proof enough of that.

"Please," she said, not quite managing the air of indifference she was aiming for. "We both know that isn't true."

He studied her for a moment, a peculiar expression on his face. "Are you still mad about Kurin?"

I think you're distracted, Princess.

Five words, that was all it had taken. Five words to shatter whatever illusions she might have still harbored about his true nature. She'd tried so hard to put those events out of her mind and forget how stupid she had been, to believe for even an instant that he was capable of being anything other than what he was. She would never make that mistake again.

No," she replied coolly. "I haven't thought about that night in ages."

The muscles around his mouth twitched – not a smirk or a smile, but something darker and more elusive. "Liar," he said.

(his hands tight around her wrists, breath warm on her neck, too close, liar, liar, liar)

She fought hard to keep her voice steady. "I'm not the liar here."

He leaned his head back against the wall, studying her through half-lidded eyes. "I knew you were still mad."

She didn't answer. It was all just a game to him, weaving lies alongside truth until she couldn't see what was real anymore. It had been like that ever since Vjun, where he'd claimed they were childhood friends, even though her only memories were of a boy who hardly talked to anyone, a boy with whom she'd exchanged only a handful of words, exactly once. They were nothing to each other, and she wouldn't be trapped by his attempts to convince her otherwise.

She watched the pronounced rise and fall of his chest as he breathed slowly and deliberately, and her gaze turned once more to his mangled legs. She could feel his eyes on her and an insistent tug of something at the edge of her perception, as if he was willing her—

(begging her)

—to look up at him. She inhaled silently and allowed her eyes to wander the cave, ignoring his psychic plea.

"Holding on to anger is not the Jedi way," she said after a long moment, still not looking at him.

His own anger flared against her senses. "That's a load of garbage, and you know it." From the corner of one eye, she saw him lean forward. "I might be a liar, Princess, but so are you. Don't try to tell me you don't feel anything when I know you do. You can say you're not still angry about what happened, but I can feel the truth simmering beneath that serenely royal façade of yours, just like I can feel how much you want—"

"Are you incapable of shutting up?" she snapped, her heart suddenly racing, unsure if she was upset by what he'd said or if she just didn't want to hear how he might finish that sentence.

His jaw clenched, and he fixed her with a hard stare. "Would you rather I sat here planning how to kill you?"

She flung a hand in the air. "Aren't you already doing that?"

He paused a beat. "Yes," he admitted, quieter this time.

"Fine," she said. "Then just shut up while you're stupidly plotting my demise."

That seemed to raise his hackles. "You've gotten pretty mouthy since the last time I saw you. Skywalker's influence?"

She was sorely tempted to throw something at him again. "Stop acting like you know me. You don't."

The scowl on his face deepened. "Then don't act like you know me, Princess."

"Gah! Stop calling me that!" Her scream echoed in the cave, and she realized just how little control she had over herself right now.

Across from her, Festus was clearly delighted. "What are you going to do about it, Princess?" He stretched his arms wide on either side of him. "Gonna strike me down? Go ahead, I'll give you a free shot."

She gripped her lightsaber tighter, even though her fingers already ached from holding on to it for so long. "Nice try," she said, "but I already know you don't want to die."

"I'm already dead," he replied. "We both are."

"Not yet, we aren't."

An ugly laugh bubbled up in his throat. "There it is, that insufferable hope." His mouth formed the word like it was a curse. "I'll snuff it right out of you."

"Oh, of course. Why should I expect anything less from one of the butchers of Vjun?"

The words weren't even out of her mouth before she regretted them, and she held completely still as the air went cold around her. Festus stared back at her, unmoving except for the slow and steady rise of his chest. His face betrayed nothing, not even a hint of rage or irritation or pain; but there was a hardness in his eyes that tore right to her center, and she felt as though she'd pulled back the dressing on a wound that would never heal.

He lowered his chin, eyes never leaving hers, and spoke in a voice so low it sent a shiver up her spine. "I only ever watched."

She thought of the mission to Vjun, of the children huddled and frightened in the cargo hold of the Daybreak, of how long it had taken some of them to recover, how they still had nightmares a decade later…

"Right," she said, barely finding her voice. "Because that makes it so much better. So you didn't hold the knife yourself; you just stood by while that monster—"

"What do you think I should have done instead? Cried about it to the doctor, maybe appealed to his nonexistent better nature?" The neutral veneer slipped, and his expression turned dark and virulent. "You're even more ridiculous than I thought."

She shook her head. "You could have helped them escape."

"And been brutally executed for my trouble? No thanks."

"Typical Sith. Only thinking of yourself."

"That's how I've survived this long, Princess. It's worked out for me so far."

"Until now."

"I thought you said we weren't dying in here?"

"I thought you said we were?"

He looked away, and Allana felt a swell of bitter disappointment, so heavy in her chest she could hardly breathe. She'd done it again, she realized – looking for something in him that wasn't there anymore. How did she keep allowing herself to hope when the truth was staring her right in the face, all sick and murderous and warped? Why couldn't she just let it go?

"What made you like this?" Her voice shook, and she fought to get it under control, and wondered why the hell she was saying anything at all. "I don't understand—"

"No, you don't. And you never will." A strange, mirthless smile stretched across his face as he turned to look at her. "The knight slays the monster and saves the princess, isn't that how all those stories go? But you're a knight and a princess. Savior and saved, best of both worlds. You could never understand."

She fumbled about for a response, feeling so small. "I could try."

"To what end? Wait, let me guess. You're going to rehabilitate me, is that it? An hour ago you couldn't have cared less, but now you think we can be friends?"

That mocking tone triggered every defiant bone in her body. "I never said that."

His lips twisted in a smug smirk. "You basically did."

"I do not want to be your friend. I don't want anything to do with you."

Her denial echoed discordantly in the quiet of the cave, and Festus settled back against the wall again, his smug expression fading as he studied her. "You look tired, Allana. You should get some sleep."

She huffed dismissively. "And wake up with a lightsaber through the chest? No thanks."

He put his right hand over his heart and frowned. "I'm appalled that you think I would make it that quick."

"Oh, I have no doubt that you would want to savor every despicable second, my lord."

Something in his gaze shifted. "You have no idea what I want."

Her stomach flipped at the undisguised hunger in his voice, and she remembered their fight in the jungle on Reialem, years ago, when he'd held her pinned against a tree and looked at her like he was looking at her now. She remembered how for the briefest moment she'd wanted to respond to that hunger, to be drawn in and surrender, and how terrified she'd been of that feeling, of what it meant.

Look away, she pleaded silently with him, or maybe with herself, look away, look away…

Mercifully, his eyes left hers, roaming around the blue-lit interior of the cave. He exhaled slowly, and she might have imagined it, but she thought it sounded shaky. He didn't say anything more.

She lost track of the hours that passed after that, but she could tell by the droop of her eyes and the blanketing quiet that had descended over the mountain that they'd been trapped for the better part of the day and were now well into night. The ever-present thrum of her lightsaber had ceased to be an intrusive reminder of the danger she was in and had instead become a sort of white noise, and she had to fight the urge to give in to her fatigue, to find a more comfortable position and close her eyes for just one blissful minute.

Allana called on the Force to buoy her faltering strength, but her application of such techniques in a practical setting was rudimentary at best. It was one thing to learn about those skills from a datapad or a holocron in the relative safety of her home; it was quite another to use them in the real world, where her success or failure might mean the difference between life and death. So while she tapped into the current of the Force for strength, she also reached for Ben, to let him know she was in trouble and that she needed help. But the distance between Argeneen and Meraine was vast, and she didn't sense any response.

At one point she looked over at Festus and saw his eyes were closed again, and she wondered if he might actually be asleep this time. Though she'd caught him staring at her more than once over the last several hours, he hadn't spoken to her again – a small mercy for which she told herself she was grateful. She continued to watch him, waiting for him to move or give some other sign that he was still awake; when there was none, she heaved a small sigh of relief and slouched a bit more comfortably against the wall, listening all the while to the gentle hum of her saber…

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She has been here before.

The sounds of a distant battle echo throughout the cavernous room, repeat laser blasts percussing against her skull as she holds herself up on trembling hands and knees, her face damp with tears. The darkness reaches for her, a living thing that wants to shred and devour and consume, and she tries to shut it out, tries not to feel the way it demands entrance, the way it sinks under her skin and nestles in all the cracks.

Her great-grandfather scoops her into his arms, drawing her close to him, and she can't help the sigh that escapes her as she closes her eyes.

"No, don't fall asleep," Anakin orders gently, rousing her. "You have to stay awake."

He carries her away from that dark place, all shards of glass and stabbing knives and screams and pain and—

The storm recedes, and she sinks into him. So safe and strong.

"You should have let me do it." Black smoke and red wisps of rage hover around him, but they are clearing slowly, slowly…

She curls her fingers in the soft folds of Anakin's tunic, eyes closing again as she smiles. So safe now. So warm.

"No, I shouldn't have," she whispers into his chest. "You'll thank me later."

The storm recedes, the smoke clears, and if shards of glass cut deep, it's only because something shattered first.

"Don't fall asleep." His voice is harder now, more urgent, coming from some far away ancient place. His blue eyes sear through her closed eyelids.

"Allana, wake up!"

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Oh no, she thought as her eyelids flew open. No, no, no, no…

His face was centimeters from hers, awash in the cerulean glow of her lightsaber, which he held in his right hand. His other hand was wrapped around her throat – not tight, exactly, but unyielding all the same. He stared not just at her, but into her, and as she lay there with her arms pinned between his body and hers, trying to shake off the haze of sleep, she felt that every secret she'd ever kept and every fear she'd ever hidden away was laid bare before him.

After all these years – and without even realizing it was happening – she'd simply stopped believing he would actually go through with it, regarding his threats as some kind of twisted flirtation instead. Gods, how could she have been so completely and utterly stupid, especially after he'd warned her that he was planning to kill her?

He still hadn't said anything, his chest heaving from the pain or the anticipation or maybe both. She tried to summon the Force to wrench him off of her, but he beat back every attempt with his own dark power. His fingers flexed around her throat, and she went still.

"Why?" she whispered, trying not to glance at the blue-white core of her saber humming so close to her face.

"Because you won't," he said through gritted teeth. His voice was horribly strangled, as if he were the one with a hand around his neck. "Isn't this enough? What else do I have to do?"

His fingers flexed again, loosening and then tightening, and despite her best efforts, a faint whimper escaped her lips. His eyes went wide at the sound.

"You know I'll do it," he whispered. "Tell me you know that."

A breath shuddered in her lungs as she struggled to calm herself, and she watched his gaze drift down to her mouth.

"Tell me," he repeated.

She swallowed and felt the muscles in her neck flex uncomfortably in his grip. "You don't have to do this," she gasped.

He shook his head, eyes still fixed on her mouth, or maybe on the hand wrapped around her throat. "But you know I will, don't you? You know I will." He uttered a trembling, erratic little laugh that shivered through her. "I can't be weak, Allana."

The use of her name and the soft, shaking finality in his voice sent another flurry of panic beating at the inside of her chest. "Killing me won't make you strong."

His thumb pressed against her windpipe, and he bowed his head and groaned, his dark hair brushing against her chin. And even though she knew it was impossibly foolish to do so, she wondered if he actually was struggling with his decision to kill her. She felt herself on a knife's edge – one wrong move and she'd be sliced open.

"Is this really what you want?" she choked out. "Do you really hate me that much?"

He jerked his head up to look at her. She couldn't understand what she was seeing in his expression. Loathing and rage and giddiness and sorrow, but not in any way that made sense to her.

What? she wanted to scream at him. Say something!

He shook his head and leaned into her, burying his face in her neck. His breath was hot against the hollow of her throat, and she stared up at the ceiling of the cave, hyperaware of his body on hers, of how he was starting to tremble. He had to be in pain from his injuries. How long could he keep this up?

"I can't be weak," he repeated, his voice cracking as it wavered between frustration and desperation. He still held her firmly in his grasp, the lightsaber humming near both their heads. "I'm not— I don't—" He blew out a forceful, angry breath. "I can't…"

She swallowed hard as the realization she had spent years shying away from finally hit her.

"Wait," she said between shallow, shaking breaths. "Do you think… Do I make you weak?"

He went suddenly, frighteningly still in response, and then his fingers loosened from her throat, dragging up the back of her neck to tangle in her hair, and just before he pressed his lips to her skin, she heard him whisper, "Yes."

Her mind went completely blank as he kissed her, branding a trail from her throat to the underside of her jaw, each kiss more insistent than the last, and she tried to register what was happening, what was going to happen if he didn't stop this. He moved from her jaw to the shell of her ear, and he moaned her name, and her brain finally caught up with her, not like this, no, no, no, no—

"Stop."

The word came out in a quiet gasp, and he froze against her. As they lay there entwined, she listened to him breathe, and her heart hammered in her chest, pounding so hard and fast she felt lightheaded. He withdrew his hand from her hair and lifted his torso away from hers, but before she could form any kind of escape plan, he pinned both her arms with his left one and raised her lightsaber with his right.

"No, no," she said, tears springing into her eyes as he positioned the blade over her neck.

"No one is coming to save you, Princess," he said grimly, his jaw clenched tight. "There's only one way to stop me. You know there is."

"Don't do this," she whispered. "Please, don't do this."

He dipped his head close to hers, so close he nearly grazed the humming saber between them. "Then stop me."

Stop him? But even as she tried to understand his strange entreaty, she heard a voice speak as if into her thoughts, barely a whisper but aching with regret, saying over and over, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…

Allana blinked back her tears, and for a single instant, she saw him not as he was now, but as he had been long ago. She could still picture it, that moment he had kneeled in front of her and returned her stolen toy, and smiled at her. They won't bother you again, he'd told her in a quiet, gentle voice. I promise.

(he got on a shuttle and never came back, and she missed him, and wept for him, and tried to forget him)

She looked up into his eyes, and he looked into hers. "Dorian," she whispered, "please."

The blade wavered, and he made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "That's not my name anymore."

"Do you remember the day we met?" she asked, the words spilling out of her. "I do. I remember."

He shook his head, but the lightsaber lifted away from her throat a fraction. "It doesn't matter—"

"I was seven, playing by myself. Your brother and his friends stole my stuffed tauntaun. They floated it in the air where I couldn't reach, but you stepped in and gave it back to me. Told me you were sorry, even though Veeran was the one always picking on people."

He didn't answer, but she sensed his turmoil bleeding into the Force. She kept going.

"You helped when you didn't have to. You weren't weak. You were never weak, Dorian."

He flinched again at the name. "Yes I was," he insisted. "I was weak, and I still am." His eyes drifted to the blade of her saber, and she heard him take a ragged breath. "I'm not offering mercy, Allana, so if you don't want to die—"

"Of course I don't want to die!" she interrupted, roughly drawing his gaze back to her. "You know I don't want to die, and I know you don't want to kill me!"

"You don't know that!" he roared, his face contorting in anguish and disbelief. "I could slit your throat or burn your heart out without even blinking. I'm a monster. That's what I am – that's all I am. That boy you knew is gone, and he's never coming back!"

He raised his right arm to wipe something from his face – sweat, or maybe tears – and as soon as the saber moved out of her path, she reared up and headbutted him right in the face. That dazed split-second was all she needed to regain control. She slammed him up into the ceiling of the cave with a telekinetic burst; the lightsaber slipped from his grasp as he cried out in surprise, and she called her weapon to her hand and scrambled to her feet. Then she slowly lowered him to the ground, careful not to further jostle his legs.

He rolled onto his back, and she stood over him, igniting the blade and angling it at his chest. He let out an astonished little laugh.

"Nice," he said, still breathing hard. "You got me."

Her entire body trembled as everything caught up to her at once – the lightsaber hissing in her ear and his hand around her neck and the feverish kisses he'd pressed into her skin and what it all meant – and she felt a scream sticking in her throat. She clung desperately to the last shreds of her Jedi calm as she held her lightsaber over him.

"How long?" she choked out, hating herself for how her voice shook.

He looked up at her, a wounded animal caught in a trap. "I don't know."

"Liar," she spat. "Tell me how long. Before Kurin?"

He nodded slowly, his eyes wide, and she felt a sinking weight in her gut as she thought back to every encounter over the years, every moment she'd been convinced he was trying to kill her. Taris and Reialem and Ord Mantell and Kordros and—

Her hands trembled around the hilt of her lightsaber as she remembered their first fight, ten years ago. His body pinning hers against the wall of that ruined ballroom, lips grazing her neck as he wrapped a hand around her throat and squeezed.

"Before…" She was hardly able to form the words, dreading what his answer would be. "Before Vjun?"

He swallowed hard and broke eye contact, staring up at the ceiling. "After."

Instead of relief, she felt even more anxious for the vagueness of his answer. After? What the hell did that mean? After he felt her squirming in his grasp and realized he liked it? After he took her prisoner and had her completely at his mercy?

"How long after?" she ground out.

"I don't know."

"How can you not know? Are you really that insane?" The scream in her throat was perilously close to coming unstuck. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't do anything to you."

"You saved my life."

His response echoed eerily in the cave, and another memory returned, this one sharper, laser-focused and brilliant with color and sound and dread. His eyes as he stared up at her from his place on the ground… She would always remember those eyes, the way they had hated her in that moment, and something else, something more that she'd never been able to identify.

She fought hard to control the shaking in her arms. "Is that what this is about? Just because I didn't want to watch my father murder you?"

He shook his head and let out a soft, incredulous laugh. "You say that like it's some small thing." He laid his head back against the ground, his gaze returning to the ceiling. "Maybe it is," he murmured. "Maybe mercy doesn't mean much when you're the one handing it out, but—" He drew a shuddering breath and met her eyes again. "You saved my life in the temple, and on Vjun. You shouldn't have, but you did."

She couldn't deny that her actions in the Sith temple on Coruscant had been intentional; she had been trying to save his life when she'd intervened that day. But Vjun was different; she'd only wanted to stop Anakin before he gave in to his own darkness. It hadn't been about Festus at all. If she was smart, she would keep that information to herself – but then, she didn't have much of a talent for lying.

"You don't owe me anything," she told him as coldly as she could. "Especially not for Vjun. I didn't do that for you. I did it for him."

Festus huffed out a short laugh. "I know. And I hated you for it. I couldn't stop thinking about it, playing it over and over and over in my head, for days after, until you showed up on that damn shuttle—"

"You already hated me," she said, cutting him off with a wave of her lightsaber. "You still hate me."

He stared at the tip of the glowing blade, then up at her. "I hate the way you make me feel. I hate how badly I need you."

He closed his eyes with a weary laugh, and she realized there were tears slipping down the sides of his face. For one fleeting moment, her traitorous heart beat in sympathy for him, before she forced it ruthlessly into submission. She couldn't let herself be swayed or put off her guard in any way. She couldn't.

His breathing slowed, and she felt his silence like a cresting wave. He opened his eyes to look up at her.

"Could you have ever loved me?" he whispered.

She tried not to let her surprise register on her face and felt herself losing that battle. Love? No… no, whatever sick, twisted thing had grown between them over the years, it wasn't anything remotely resembling love, and how dare he ask her that? She wanted to tell him how ridiculous he sounded, that he didn't even understand the concept, that he was deluding himself if he thought there was even a chance…

Except… except she knew that wasn't true. It was dangerous to do so, but as she looked into his eyes, she allowed herself to think of the boy from her memory, of how shy and awestruck she'd been when he came to her rescue, kneeling before her and apologizing for his brother's behavior. Smiling at her, so warm it filled her up, making her forget about all the kids who wouldn't play with her because of who her father was. She allowed herself to imagine a world where he wasn't taken by the Sith, where he grew up alongside her and her friends, becoming Jedi Knights together, toppling the Empire, rebuilding the galaxy…

She'd been so smitten with Geridan, for a time, but since him there hadn't been anyone else, not really. Would it have been different with Dorian Starskip around?

No, she told herself. She couldn't entertain those thoughts. That person didn't exist, and it would be beyond foolish to pretend otherwise.

Could you have ever loved me?

"I don't know," she answered.

He laughed under his breath, a sad sob of a laugh. "Do it," he said, closing his eyes. "No one will blame you."

She raised a hand to her throat, fingers lightly tracing the path he'd traveled with his lips, and her eyes began to burn. Everything was wrong. All she wanted to do was run far away – from him, from the entire galaxy, from herself. For a brief moment, she tried to imagine doing exactly what he'd said, tried to imagine taking his life, but she couldn't even manage that much. No matter what he'd done, she couldn't strike him down like this. She didn't want to, even knowing the danger he still posed to her.

She knelt down at his side and held her lightsaber over him, and he opened his eyes to look up at the blade. She heard him take a sharp breath before going quiet again.

"I'm no executioner," she said in a low voice, "but I wouldn't try anything if I were you."

His eyebrows knitted together as he stared past the blade at her. She deactivated the lightsaber, plunging the cave into darkness. She sensed his confusion, which morphed into resignation as she pressed the emitter of her weapon against the side of his neck. Then she reached out with her free hand and found his face, brushing her thumb over his forehead.

He jolted ever so slightly at her touch. His skin was clammy, and now so close to him, she could feel the overwhelming pain from his injuries.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

She closed her eyes, blocking out the cave, his fear, her emotions, everything but the feel of his mind and blood beneath her fingertips. She had never done anything like this before, only ever studied it; but in the Force, her path was clear.

"I'm saving your life," she whispered back. "Again."

Too late, he realized what she was doing. Before he could protest, he was out cold, deep in a healing trance that would keep him alive for at least a few more days. Allana drew in a shaky breath as she withdrew her hand from his forehead, then she crawled back to her spot along the wall and sat there in the dark, listening to the sound of her own breathing, and his.

It started with one broken little sob, one that she tried to suppress even though there was no one to hear her, and it quickly crescendoed until all she could do was sit there hugging her knees to her chest, weeping.

"Ben," she whispered through her tears, reaching out across the impossibly vast distance between them. "Hear me. I need you."

When her sobs finally subsided and her tears ran dry, she lay down on the ground and curled up in a ball; and the last thing she heard before sleep took her was a faint whisper at the edge of her thoughts:

Hold on, Allana.

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Ben arrived a day later, along with an Argenian excavation crew. She awoke to the brilliant warmth of his presence and the sound of them digging into the mountain, and she listened for hours as they worked to clear the fallen rocks. When they finally broke through, sunlight spilled into the cave, nearly blinding in its intensity. She hardly cared, though, because she felt Ben's relief wash over her, and before she could process her joy at that sensation, he was reaching down to pull her from her would-be tomb. She fell against him, laughing as he wrapped his arms around her.

"You came," she whispered, sinking into his embrace.

"Of course I did." His tone was light, but she heard a slight waver in his voice. "Who else was going to dig you out of there?"

She looked up at him, unable to resist smirking just a little. "Well, I'd have done it myself, but my master always used to say there's more to being a Jedi than lifting rocks."

Ben raised one eyebrow and grinned. "He sounds like an idiot."

"Oh, he is."

He rolled his eyes and pulled her close again, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. She smiled at the familiar show of affection. "Come on," he said, "let's get you home."

An uneasy twinge in her stomach as the events of the last two days pushed to the forefront of her thoughts. "Ben," she said in a quieter voice, "there's something else…"

"Master Jedi! We've got another one down here!"

Allana turned away from Ben and found the crew member who had spoken, a middle-aged man who looked to be in charge of the excavation team. He was kneeling beside the entrance to the cave, holding out a glowrod to peer inside. Three other workers were hauling up a line, and the uneasy twinge grew stronger as she realized what they were doing.

"Please be careful with him," she called out. "He's injured."

She sensed the instant change in Ben's demeanor, cold anxiety overtaking his earlier relief, and she found that she couldn't look at him. "Tell me that's not who I think it is," he said in a hushed tone, barely audible over the chatter of the excavation crew.

"You've been looking for a connection to the Sith, right? Well, I found you one. Or I guess he found me."

She kept her gaze fixed on the opening to the cave and watched as the crew carefully hoisted Festus out of it and laid him on the ground. His head lolled to one side, and she had to fight back a sudden, inexplicable swell of emotion.

"Are you expecting me to take him with us?"

Allana tore her eyes from the unconscious Sith Lord. "We can't leave him here. The Argenians would never be able to hold him."

Ben inhaled deep, brow furrowing as he looked past her at Festus. "How long has he been out?"

"About a day. I used a healing trance."

Her cousin arched one eyebrow and sighed. "What I wouldn't give for a carbon freezing unit right now."

"Ben. He's injured."

She saw him working his jaw, biting back the scathing retort that had no doubt popped into his head. "Fine," he said after a long moment, his expression hard. "We'll take him."

Allana nodded, and she didn't resist when Ben wrapped her once more in his arms and rested his chin atop her head.

"You're sure you're okay?" he murmured.

She closed her eyes and hugged him tight, and tried not to think of what he would do if he found out what had happened in the cave. "Yeah," she murmured back. "I'm okay."

Ben kissed her hair again. "All right, then. Let's go home."

.