Chapter 14 – A Time For Reflection

Here comes chapter 14! Who's ready?!

Also, I'M BACK and I won't hold you up here at the very start of the chapter, so onwards!

But before you proceed, a quick TW for briefly mentioned suicidal thoughts. It's not much, but this is just a heads-up for those of you who might be bothered by them! If you want to avoid them, skip the paragraph that begins with "For so many long years…"

Ronderu had been relieved to find that the refresher worked.

It felt good to be able to clean up after everything that had happened, and she even spent a little longer than was strictly necessary inside. Just as she was done drying herself off and was about to exit the small refresher, however, she froze. Was… was that Qymaen's presence she could feel? Could it really be him?

"Qymaen…?" She breathed in confusion.

It had been a long time since the connection that the two of them shared had felt this… alive. She could only just sense his mind now, abuzz with indistinct thoughts and emotions that she could not make out – but that was to be expected, given the likely distance between them. But, at the same time, she could sense that his end of their bond was underlaid with a current of cold, hard anger; to a degree that she had never before felt from her soulmate; though there seemed to be less anger than what she had felt the last time. But what was that new emotion she could barely sense alongside the anger? Shame? But of what?

Reaching out to open the door, Ronderu hesitated a second time. She happened to spot a bar attached to the ceiling, one that seemingly had no purpose, and she was just able to reach it and pried it loose. She preferred having a weapon in hand – even if this one was a little flimsier than she would have liked. Opening the door, she stepped back out into her plain, confining room. In her right hand were some balled-up rags that she had torn from one of the sheets, while her make-shift weapon was held tight in her left hand.

Barely five seconds had passed since Ronderu had exited the refresher when she heard the door to her room unlock. She turned towards in surprise, just as it slid open. Grievous appeared at the door, looking in almost cautiously. But his eyes fell on her almost immediately, widening fractionally as he took in her still-wet hair and expression of disbelief.

"Get out!" Ronderu found herself exclaiming.

And, acting out of sheer reflex, she threw the ball of rags at his head.

It struck him square in the faceplate and the General hastily withdrew, with what could have been a quickly-uttered apology. The door closed behind him, but Ronderu continued to stare at it for a few moments longer, taking the time to be grateful that she had dressed in the refresher instead of in the room itself. Eventually she shook her head mutely, but could not help the small snort of amusement as she thought back to Grievous' reaction. Would it have been so hard for him to have simply knocked, though? It was common courtesy, after all. With a sigh, Ronderu picked up some of the crumpled sheets and started to fold them as her mind wandered. As she was finishing up, though, she was brought back to reality by a couple of slow, deliberate knocks on the door. She looked towards it again, feeling annoyance flare inside her.

Oh, so now he was going to be polite and knock, was he?

She scowled to herself and folded her arms. Couldn't Grievous just leave her alone?! She didn't understand what he could possibly want her for; why he wanted her – it was all a mystery. Ronderu glared irritably at the door, as if she could see actually see Grievous through it. She scowled to herself, waiting for the General to try and explain himself or even apologize. There was a brief pause, followed by a few more knocks, then silence once again.

"Forgive my intrusion earlier…" Came Grievous' voice through the still-closed door. "I only wish to talk to you."

Ronderu huffed, but otherwise remained silent.

"May I come in?" His tone was hesitant.

"No, you may not," she replied scathingly. "But then, it's hardly up to me to decide now, is it? This is your fortress, is it not? Why even bother asking me in the first place? If you feel like it, you can just walk in!"

"No, I meant – ," he paused awkwardly. "Would you… require anything?"

Ronderu was silent for a moment, thinking. It was clear enough from Grievous' tone, that by 'anything', he obviously meant food. The very thought of it made Ronderu's stomach growl and she grimaced, hugging her arms around her stomach in an attempt to ignore the gnawing hunger she felt. It had been a few days at least since she'd last eaten anything – longer still since she'd had a decent meal – her previous 'owner' often forgot or didn't bother as far as food was concerned. Ronderu knew that she could not go much longer without any; if she tried, she'd simply grow weak, losing what little strength she still possessed. While she'd been in the refresher, Ronderu had looked long and hard at her reflection. It shouldn't have come as any surprise to find out that she'd lost weight – but it did, and she found she was almost unrecognizable even to herself.

So she sighed, knowing that she didn't have much choice other than to rely on the good General's continued generosity.

"Yes, thank you, some food would be nice," she responded in the stoniest voice she could manage.

"Is there… anything in particular you would like?"

Gods, he sounded so awkward right now. Well, that's what he got for walking into her room unannounced.

"I'll let you get creative, General," she answered drily.

She barely caught the sound of a low grumble from the other side of the door, followed by silence a few moments later and she knew then that Grievous had gone. But a thought struck her just then, in the silence of her room – what if the food was drugged? That was a worrying thought, and a very real possibility; after all, she still had no clue as to what it was that the cyborg wanted with her. Ronderu sat down heavily, these and countless other thoughts whirling around in her head and weighing her down. Groaning, she raised her hands to her head, massaging her temples in an attempt to alleviate her steadily growing headache.

Food.

Food was going to be an issue, Grievous knew. Because for one thing, there was nothing even remotely edible within the fortress on account of the simple fact that Grievous himself was not required to consume any due to his… current condition. His mind wondered to the large, tentacled creature that had set up residence in a lower, submerged part of the fortress. He would have gotten rid of it were it not for the fact that it seemed impossible to kill. But wait… it lived in water – Grievous' thoughts turned immediately to the lake outside. Surely there would be fish living in it, wouldn't there? And fish were edible…

…unless they were poisonous, a part of his mind reminded him.

But never mind that – he could always have A4-D scan anything he brought back in just in case. Setting out, he couldn't help but feel mildly irritated that Ronderu had called him 'General'. He knew he shouldn't be bothered by it, but he was. He wanted her to call him Grievous, because that was as close to the name Qymaen as she could get. After all, it had only been after he presumed her to be dead that he had started going by Grievous. And that thought brought him back to the question nagging away at him.

How was she alive?

For so many long years, he had thought her dead; murdered by the Huk on the shores of the Jenuwaa Sea and her body dragged out into those cold, dark waters to be lost forever. Grievous shuddered, shaking away morbid thoughts of her death and how he himself had been so tempted to let the same deep waters claim him as well. But of course, he could not simply lay down and let the ancestors take him; no, they'd had other plans for him.

With a weary sigh, he set off further into the South Wing, taking nothing but his lightsabers with him. Grievous had long since memorized the layout of the fortress and as such, knew that there was a secret entrance that led out into what had once been a garden but what was now an overgrown mess strangled with weeds and what A4-D had identified as poisonous creepers. The actual door that led out into said garden was well disguised, being practically indistinguishable from the wall it was set in. As an added precaution, however, there was a code required to open the door, the only two beings who knew the code was himself and A4-D – but it wasn't like something as simple as a locked door would deter a Jedi, Grievous thought with an amused huff. Reaching out to punch in the code, he could not help but feel a pang of nostalgia. After all, the code was none other than the coordinates for his (former? Grievous wasn't even sure at this point) homeworld, Kalee.

He wondered how everyone there was faring but, at the same time, felt guilt twist at his insides – well, what was left of them, at least.

Because with the return of his memories, Grievous now knew that it was because of him that Kalee and her people had suffered; he and Ronderu had led their people in battle against the Huk. After her supposed death, Grievous had dedicated his life to the war, to seeing the bugs leave or better yet, to being completely exterminated. And in pursuing his goals, he had committed atrocity after atrocity against the invaders and made them so desperate as to turn to the Galactic Republic for aid.

And they had imposed sanctions on Kalee, effectively halting what little inter-planetary trade his planet had possessed. Thousands of Kaleesh had died, unable to receive proper medicine or supplies. And what had the Jedi – the so-called peacekeepers – done?

Nothing.

To help ease his people's suffering, Grievous had been forced to turn to the InterGalactic Banking Clan to bail out his people and in some degree, to the soon-to-be formed Confederacy of Independent Systems. The degree to which he'd been manipulated was… astonishing in all aspects.

But Grievous pushed these thoughts from his mind, deciding that he'd have enough time to spend mulling over them in the future. The door opened with a barely perceptible hum and Grievous entered the garden on the other side, making his way over to the wall and scaling it with ease. Dropping down on the other side, he landed on a thin lip of solid ground. Beyond it stretched a steep slope that consisted of nothing but scree and gravel. A one-way trip then, from the looks of it.

Placing one clawed-toed foot at the beginning of the slope, Grievous tests the scree, hesitating a moment before he launches himself forwards, sliding down the rock fragments and twisting to avoid larger boulders. However, he still found himself approaching the trees bordering the glacial lake faster than he would have liked – certainly faster than he'd anticipated. But he did not bother to panic; instead, leaning back to slow himself down – so far back that he was almost parallel to the slope itself. Gradually, he slowed to a halt shortly before he reached the treeline. Glancing back the way he came, Grievous could only just make out an edge of his fortress from where he stood, the slope he'd come down looking much steeper from the bottom than it had from the top. Turning away from the mountain, he made his way over to the lake's edge.

The trees that grew along its shores had rooted the scree, making the ground much easier to walk on. Above him, turquoise-green leaves rustled in the light breeze, a few of them breaking loose to drift lazily past him. He picked his way between the tall trees, stopping at the water's edge and looking hard into its crystal-clear depths. His eyes scanned the lake's flat, ripple-free surface for any signs of movement – anything that would give away the presence of something lurking below.

Grievous waded slowly into the water, his movements slow and careful, stopping when the water came halfway up his artificial legs. Any deeper would be a bad idea; as it was, Grievous had bad experiences concerning large bodies of water. There was no point in adding another close call to that list. Exhaling, Grievous waited.

Time passed, and the sky began to noticeably darken. But unlike on Kalee, there were no vibrant, fiery shades that painted the sky during sunset – here, the sky simply darkened from an already dusky blue to a black that was positively crammed with stars. But even as the heavens grew dark, the surrounding landscape took on its own – albeit faint – light. The leaves of the trees that grew on the lake's shore glimmered sea-blue, the trunks having fainter streaks of silver running down them. Even the edges of the lake, where the water lapped the shore, twinkled with green specks of light. Soon, it was only the centre of the lake that remained dark, like the gaping entrance of a cave.

Grievous tried to ignore that particular observation of his, focusing instead on the small flash further out in the dark waters. At once, he was on alert as little-by-little, the small group of fish approached the shallows where Grievous stood waiting. And then finally, they were close enough to reach and Grievous struck in the blink of an eye, snatching three of them straight from the water like some sort of predatory bird. They wriggled in his hands, their scales glinting in the soft light. Giving them a quick once-over, he grunted in satisfaction, deciding that these three fish would do for now.

He turned, about to take the long way back to the fortress when he suddenly paused. There were no longer any kitchens in the fortress. So where would these fish be cooked…?

There was loud clatter as several pieces of wood were dropped to the floor. The wood was then followed by what appeared to be kindling and finally, a piece of flint and metal.

Ronderu looked from the items that now lay on the floor by her feet back up to Grievous, who had brought them here. He stood to a side, three decently-sized fish in hand.

"…What's this for?" Ronderu asked finally.

"There aren't any kitchens," Grievous answered with what could have been an apologetic shrug.

"So I'm supposed to cook these myself?" She gestured to the fish.

"Yes."

"By lighting a fire in here?" She pressed.

"Yes –,"

"In this enclosed and obviously very poorly-ventilated room?"

"Well – ,"

"Do you know how dangerous that is?" She demanded. "The smoke could easily suffocate me, or the fire could spread and burn me alive – ,"

"Enough!" Grievous snapped, apparently having decided that it was his turn to cut her off.

Ronderu obliged, however, and shot him a haughty look – the response to which was an exasperated roll of the cyborg's eyes.

"You have made your point," he acknowledged. "Would you eat if the area was…better ventilated?"

"I might," she responded with a careless shrug.

"Very well; follow me." Grievous acknowledged after a moment's deliberation. "But bring the wood!"

Ronderu complied and picked up the firewood, followed by the other items. It was an awkward bundle to carry and she stood, hesitating a moment as she shifted the weight of the branches in her hands, struggling to make sure that nothing dropped. Her gaze happened to fall the blankets she'd folded previously and an idea struck her. Dumping the firewood back on the ground, she began to unfold one of them. Grievous – who was waiting outside for her – look back in, seeing her with the sheet.

"What are you doing?" He asked her in that strangely hoarse voice of his.

"Unlike you, I don't have four arms," Ronderu answered, "so I need an easier way to carry this."

He didn't respond to that and left Ronderu to it.

A few minutes later, she emerged from the room with the firewood, kindling and flint-and-steel bundled up in the sheet that she casually hoisted over her shoulder. Grievous looked at her, but seemed to decide not to comment, which was probably a good thing – Ronderu might have taken a swing at him otherwise. The two of them looked at one another in silence for a moment before Ronderu finally shrugged.

"Well? Where are we going?"

"This way," Grievous responded, turning away.

She couldn't do anything more than comply at this point, so Ronderu followed him. Also, maybe it was just her, but those fish were starting to look very appetizing – cooked or not. She silenced the growls from her stomach, hoping that they weren't loud enough for Grievous to hear; he didn't need to know how desperate she was, how weak; and instead, she turned to wondering where it was that they were going. Not a word passed between them and Ronderu's thoughts slowly began to turn to the possibility of swinging her bulky bundle at the back of Grievous' head. Could she do it? Would it knock him out? And if so, for how long?

But sadly, Ronderu missed her chance to do such a thing, having wasted too much time simply thinking about it. Soon, they stepped into a turbolift and Grievous pushed a button inside it, and it began to move upwards. Unfortunately, the lift wasn't of the spacious variety, and there was only just enough room for the two of them to stand side-by-side inside it. But even then, it was still too close for Ronderu's liking. So, Ronderu resigned herself to simply waiting. Fortunately, it was not for long. The turbolift came to a halt and the doors opened, letting them out. Grievous exited first, followed by the female Kaleesh. Looking around, she was more than a little surprised to realize that they were on the roof. Why the roof? Surely there were other, more secure places within the confines of the fortress, weren't there?

But Ronderu kept her mouth shut and took in the sight of the surrounding landscape instead. There was no moon in the sky; instead, it was crammed full of thousands of twinkling stars and a faint aurora that wreathed its way across the backdrop of the night sky. But the landscape surrounding the fortress was in no way one that was shrouded in darkness by the lack of an orbiting celestial body – no, the planet's native flora had instead decided that it would provide its own light during the planet's night cycle – and everything glowed. If Ronderu didn't know any better, she'd have thought she was dreaming, but… she just knew she wasn't. she turned in a slow circle, her eyes wide at the sight that lay before them. Never before had she seen such a place; in fact, she doubted that she could even have imagined anything like it. It just –

"It takes your breath away, does it not?"

Ronderu turned, the words from Grievous so unexpected that they startled her. To her surprise, though, his eyes were directed up at the stars above, completely oblivious to Ronderu's gaze. There was a strange sort of melancholy to his voice that she almost missed, but it made her pause and think: why did her sound that way? But she turned away after a few moments passed, unwillingly to let Grievous see her watching him or worse still, catch his gaze.

"So?" She asked, breaking the silence. "Now what?"

Grievous turned to her, snapping out of whatever reverie he had been lost in. For a moment he just looked at her in silence, his gaze seemingly assessing her.

"You may eat," he finally responded, holding out the fish to her.

She eyed them before dumping her bundle on the ground and crouching down to untie it. Reaching out to take the fish from Grievous' hand, Ronderu hesitated fractionally. It was such a small gesture that it should have gone unnoticed, but Grievous – being Grievous – noticed. His eyes met hers, the look in them quizzical, but before he could say a word Ronderu snatched the fish from his hand, muttering her thanks.

Avoiding his gaze, she crouched down, arranging the kindling and the sticks after laying aside the fish on a corner of the sheet. It took her a few minutes to gut the fish, but soon they were placed down once again and Ronderu turned her attention to getting the fire going. She picked up the rudimentary flint-and-steel, doing her best to try and ignore Grievous as he stood somewhere behind her, out of her line of sight. Striking the two against one another, she managed to produce a few sparks but none took to the kindling. Again and again, she kept going until the sparks finally took on her twelfth try.

With a small sigh of relief, she quickly transferred the smoldering kindling to where she had already set up the firewood. Blowing gently on the embers, she coaxed a small flame into being and just as her own expression brightened, the flame abruptly snuffed itself out. Ronderu stared in disbelief for a moment, before she set her jaw and turned around to get the flint-and-steel. She had barely turned away when a blaster bolt streaked past her and into the kindling, still lying in the pile of firewood. With a small pop, it ignited and the wood slowly began to burn.

She turned in the direction the bolt had come from, a look of disbelief and incredulity showing on her face as she found herself staring at Grievous. Ronderu knew she shouldn't have been surprised; he was the only other person up here besides her, anyway; but she was. In his right hand, he held a blaster, its muzzle still smoking gently from the shot, his eyes focused intently on the now-crackling flames. He started suddenly, before he noticed that Ronderu looking at him, and stowed away the blaster on the back of his hip. Without a word, he turned and walked aside and Ronderu realized that he was giving her space. She watched him as he seated himself on a low stone wall some distance away, slowly turning his gaze to the strangely illuminated landscape. Ronderu shook her head, and set the fish to cook.

She settled down to wait, absently watching as a flurry of sparks burst forth as a branch snapped, whirling upwards on a hot draught. If she focused only on the sky and the sparks, listening to the crackle of the fire and inhaling the fresh, night air tinged with the smell of cooking meat, she could almost fool herself into thinking that she was back home – on Kalee.

Almost.

She smiled as she remembered days that were long past. At times like these, her old life felt like it belonged to someone else – someone who wasn't her. In what felt like it had been a lifetime ago, she had been Ronderu lij Kummar; warrior, friend… The Dreamt…

But now she was Ronderu the slave, something that the weight of the shock collar encircling her neck made sure that she would never forget. She fingered it absently, as she waited for the fish to be done cooking and wondered if there was any way to possibly remove it without the aid of its controller.

Continuing to watch the stars, Ronderu didn't notice when Grievous' gaze slowly turned her way. A moment passed, after which he produced something from where it had been hidden in a compartment in his left forearm. It was none other than the controller for Ronderu's shock collar. He turned it over thoughtfully in his hand, his eyes not leaving it for a few minutes. Then he glanced back at Ronderu. Her eyes – distant and wistful – were pointed upwards at the stars, almost as though she was dreaming of something. But her right hand remained against her collar, a stark and painful reminder of the years she spent as a slave. How ironic – how for all these years they had both been slaves.

Guiltily, he regarded the controller in his hand once again.

Such a small device it was. But to so many, it was a sign – no, a symbol – of dominance. The dominance of slaver over slave; an owner and their property. Disgusting. Grievous was no slaver – how could he be, when he loathed the very idea of slavery with such a vengeance? – so then why did he hesitate? Why could he not bring himself to deactivate Ronderu's collar, to let her be free? It would be so easy, but at the same time… almost impossible.

He closed his eyes, as if he were in pain.

Because in a way, he was. Grievous knew the answers to his internal debate, and the answers themselves brought with them even more worries and concerns. What if he removed her collar? What of she tried to escape? And what if, in doing so, she was hurt? Or worse still – stranded somewhere on this planet where he could not reach her, somewhere he could not find her… There were reasons, after all, for this planet having been abandoned so long ago. Or what if… what if she tried to return to Kalee…? Everyone there believed her to be dead. There was no telling how they would react to finding out that she was alive. There was no telling how anyone would react to her apparent return from beyond – Grievous didn't even know if anyone would believe her.

He sighed wearily.

Eventually, it all boiled down to one simple reason. The reason being that, should he remove her collar, she would leave. And Grievous did not want that.

Even if keeping her here against her will made her hate him, he could not bear to let her go. Not again. Not when he actually had a say in it this time. He may have refused to give the thoughts in his head a proper voice, but he still loved her. She meant too much to him. And besides, she could – and no doubt she did – hate Grievous with every fibre of her being, but at least that meant she would still love Qymaen jai Sheelal.

It had taken Ronderu less time to eat the fish than it had taken to cook them.

All three were gone, the only leftovers being three heads and tails. But even though she had just eaten, Ronderu felt like she could still manage more. No – she knew she could stomach more. It was unfortunate that three fish seemed to be the extent to which Grievous' goodwill extended. A pity, really, but there didn't seem to be anything more that could be done about it. Leaning back, she rested her weight on her hands, her face angled upwards. A breeze tugged at her hair and she reached up to brush some of it back. She closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of cool night air on her skin. There was a time when she took such a feeling for granted; she'd never realized how much she took it for granted until she had been forced to spend so many years cooped up in a small, stuffy room. She shuddered slightly at the memory of it, and pushed those thoughts away. There was absolutely no way she was going to ruin her first time being outside with those memories. After all that she had been through, Ronderu felt as though she appreciated these smaller things more than she used to.

As much as she appreciated having had a meal, Ronderu knows better than to let down her guard. She didn't make it so far being a slave by being trusting. She wanted to escape from this place more than anything; to be able to make choices for herself once again, not trade in one owner for another. Especially when this new 'master' of hers was more droid than actual flesh and blood. Ronderu would give anything to leave this place. The only question now, was where would she even start?

Some hours later, a noise snapped Ronderu out of her swirling thoughts, making her turn around in time to see Grievous getting to his feet. The fire had burned out a while ago, leaving behind nothing but a pile of ash and embers. Grievous looked her way, his yellow-green eyes glowing faintly in the weak light.

"Get up," he informed her, "we are going."

Ronderu sighed to herself. Of course all good things never last.

"You go on," she waved him off. "I'll catch up in a bit."

Grievous stalked over to her, towering over her as he all but glared down at where she sat.

"Are you suggesting I leave you here unaccompanied?" He seemed to cowl at her.

"Perhaps I am," Ronderu shrugged with an air of carelessness. "Would that be a problem?"

"It certainly would, given your tendency to try and run off," he growled.

"Don't you trust me?" She asked him sarcastically.

Ronderu expected a disdainful reply, or even that Grievous threaten her by producing his blaster or laser sword. But he does neither – he doesn't even roughly manhandle her to her feet even though Ronderu knows he's more than capable of doing that. What she didn't expect was for him to go silent all of a sudden, as if he was at a complete loss for words. So, she decided to press her advantage, wanting to find out once and for all if her suspicions were well-placed.

"I would have expected you to, given that you and I aren't so different."

Grievous started, a look of wariness in his eyes.

"And what do you mean by that?" He demanded, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"It's not so hard to guess," Ronderu said brazenly, meeting his gaze. "And I think you already know what I'm talking about. But I'll go ahead and let you guess."

"I have no time for these games!" Grievous declared, turning to leave.

But Ronderu refused to be dissuaded so easily. She was nothing if not stubborn. At the very least, she wanted her question answered, and by the Ancestors, she was going to get that answer out of the cyborg general. She got to her feet behind him, her anger showing on her face.

"Answer me, Grievous!" She ordered. "Are you Kaleesh?!"

A few meters ahead of her, Grievous stopped dead in his tracks. He didn't turn around so Ronderu could read whatever emotion would have been showing in his eyes. Instead, he remained facing away motionless save for the swaying of his cloak in the wind. He was silent. This in itself was enough to answer her question.

"Why would you ask me that?" He asked, his voice low.

"Then you are Kaleesh?" She pressed.

Grievous turned his head fractionally, just enough that she could only just see his eye as he looked over his shoulder at her. He was silent for a moment longer. But then he said a single word that staggered Ronderu.

"No."

"No?" Ronderu echoed incredulously.

"Not anymore," was all the elaboration he provided. "Now come with me."

Pheeewww….

Well, that is this chapter finally – finally – done. I can't tell you guys how relieved I am.

So… about this chapter having taken so long. Ugh, where do I even begin? So classes dragged on for a whole month longer than they were supposed to because so many of them ended up being cancelled for some reason or another, but they're finally over now, so yay. I have literally been struggling just to find time to type – apparently its hard for some reason. But I persevered! Enough complaining from me, though!

Thanks so much for reading and leaving comments!

I don't want to ramble anymore, so I'll just sign off here – Paladin Stormwind, out!