CØVƏȠ

by blueenvelopes

Not Jedi. Not Sith. All Witch. Mother is more than her title, it's Nightsister Mother Talzin's greatest destiny in the delicate dance of power that is the prelude to the rise of an Empire. Watch arrogant Senator Sheev Palpatine meet his match when he's sent to kill the young boy his Master fears could thwart their plans.

10. Chapter 10

His wife has never been one to hold back. Cresta's a screamer. Whether she's happy or angry or excited, she's the kind of woman who shrieks. And tonight, she's at her highest pitch and maximum decibels.

"You can't just take someone's child! And if you do, you don't bring them home and make them your own like they are some kind of rescue pet! Seriously, what the Hell are you doing? How could you possibly think this is okay?"

Sheev stands his ground. "I told you-it was either bring him home or kill him."

"Or leave him with his family!"

"That wasn't an option. My Master sent me on a mission to find that kid and kill him. I was sent to seek and destroy that ten-year-old specifically."

"Oh." That news immediately quiets Cresta. She knows that he cannot disobey his Master. Wiping a hand down her face, his suddenly subdued wife asks, "Is that what you were up to during the Senate recess?"

"Yes."

"This is all because the kid has the Force?"

"Yes. He has a lot of Force."

"So do many Jedi kids."

"Not like Maul. That boy bleeds midichlorians." In Maul's veins flows a massive quantity of the biological receptors attuned to the magic that binds the universe together. It underscores the potential that has Plagueis spooked and him excited.

Casting a furtive look around out of reflexive fear that he somehow might be overheard, Sheev speaks aloud a forbidden truth. "Cresta, Plagueis is afraid of him."

"Yeah? Why?"

"Because he's going to grow to have great power someday."

"Power . . ." His wife rolls her eyes and takes another hit on her cigarette. Then, she flicks off the ash and deploys her derision. "With you, it's always power . . ."

"Damn right," Sheev affirms. He owns who he is. And his wife knows exactly who he is and what he does.

"So the Muun thinks he'll be an enemy?"

"Yes."

Cresta cocks her head at him and observes dryly, "Won't that make him your enemy too?"

"Not if I can raise him to think like I do. He could be a powerful ally." All the time spent musing on the long flight home has Sheev fully convinced that stealing Maul is a genius move. He has become very invested in his scheme.

He's making headway, too. Cresta's listening now, not just reacting. His wife is sharp, and she knows the ways of the Sith. Cresta understands the 'kill and replace' dynamic of the rule of two. There can only ever be one Sith Master, and unless and until he kills Darth Plagueis, it won't be him. But that knowledge unfortunately doesn't make his wife supportive.

"The Muun wants you to kill him, right? How are you going to explain keeping him?"

"I'll figure it out. I have some ideas."

"This is all so that fifteen years from now, you and the kid can double team Plagueis?"

"That's the idea." Sheev sighs and admits what they both know. "I need his help. I'll never do it alone."

"I know." Cresta saw the aftermath of the one and only attempt he made to kill Darth Plagueis long ago. His Master had been so unbothered by his futile effort that he let him live. To this day, Sheev is a little insulted by that diss even though it's why he still breathes.

"With Maul by my side, next time it might work," Sheev argues softly.

"Might work," Cresta echoes his phrase, only her emphasis is on the qualification.

She takes another long drag on her cigarette. Then she looks away and starts blinking fast.

Fuck. Those are tears. His wife's not the crying type. She's too tough. Cresta's tears are rare, and they always rock him on his heels. Sheev can't help but squirm a little. But this rare display of vulnerability is good, he decides. It means Cresta appreciates what's at stake. He presses ahead now, making his case.

"This kid could be how I-we-finally break free of him! Think about it! There would be no one to stop me! Plagueis will die and I will steal the empire for myself. It will work-I know, because I have foreseen it. I will rule! Cresta, I had a vision on a throne. Mas was even in it."

"But you say visions mislead . . ." his doubting wife quotes him back Dark teaching.

Sheev ignores it. "The best part," he urges, dropping his voice to an intense whisper that is tinged Dark, "is that he will pay for what he did to you. I will finally get our revenge." It's long overdue.

Cresta's head nods even as her chin starts to tremble. "Yeah, I get the gist," she responds, wiping at one eye, "but I don't want you to do it."

"What?" He squints at her.

"You heard me." She shoots him back a hard 'I mean what I say' look. "This whole plan is heading for a fight you cannot win."

"With that boy-"

"You think that kid is the answer, but he's not! Sheev, you have deluded yourself into thinking you can win!" Making a face, Cresta shakes her head with resignation. She mutters, "You're only going to get yourself killed. The kid, too."

Cresta's afraid of his Master, and with good reason. Tonight's caution is her fear-for him and for herself-talking.

"I'd rather you stay alive as the Apprentice than get killed for revenge. We've been over this before," she complains bitterly. "Revenge won't change what happened. Even if it could, too much time has passed."

Biting her lip and looking away, Cresta exhales long and hard. In a flat tone, she reminds him, "She's gone. She's a fully grown Jedi by now. She would probably want to kill you even if she learned that you are her father. The Jedi are such zealots . . ."

Sheev says nothing. But inside, he seethes at the truth of her words.

"She's gone." His wife keeps saying those words repeatedly, and it sounds more like she's trying to convince herself than to persuade him. "She's gone . . ."

Sheev shifts his weight uncomfortably even as Cresta looks away again. The topic of their lost kid is still raw after all these years. It's not something they talk about often, and they rarely discuss it this directly. Usually, it's in vague offhand comments now and then. It's a testament to how brutal the scar of that experience is for each of them personally and for their shaky marriage.

And, unfortunately, if all goes well, their old hurt will get even worse. Because if the plan to have the clones execute their Jedi commanders succeeds, then the success of the Sith revolution will make their own child a casualty of the coming war. Cresta doesn't know that part yet. Sheev doesn't have the heart to tell her. Besides, Order 66 is still years in the future. The issue isn't ripe.

"She's gone. Killing him won't change that . . ."

"You're right," Sheev concedes. But revenge isn't about making amends. It's about punishment. Vengeance is a matter of honor. And so, if it's the last thing he ever does, Sheev is going to make the Muun pay for his actions. It's downright humiliating that his Master had a role in causing his own kid to be raised Jedi.

Sheev reminds her, "My powers have doubled since the last time."

"That won't be enough."

"I'll have Maul on my side."

She raises an eyebrow at him. "What if he ends up being the Master, not you?"

"I've got him young. I will raise him to love me. He already calls me Father."

"I heard him call you Sidious. How much does he know?"

"A lot. But before you worry that he'll run to a Jedi Temple, the witch tribe he's from hates the Jedi."

Cresta shrugs off the point. She has a different concern. "I don't like him calling you father. He's not our kid." She shoots him a look of pure resentment as she snarls, "He is not our kid!"

"I know."

"Do you?" With that jeer, Cresta again pokes at old wounds. "I have often wondered whether if our baby had been a boy and not a girl, would you have fought harder to get her back . . ."

Absolutely, but Sheev keeps that opinion to himself.

"If that had been the next Sith Lord taken into the Jedi Order, would your Master have been so quick to write him off?"

Never. Plagueis would have had him retrieve his baby son or kill him, lest the boy become a true threat one day in the future. But since the Dark Side is a patriarchal boys club fueled by the masculine virtues of ruthless competition, strategic violence, and testosterone-fueled rage, an accidental daughter was deemed an acceptable sacrifice to the Light Side by Darth Plagueis. But again, Sheev keeps that knowledge to himself. He has no wish to exacerbate his wife's hurt.

Of course, bringing home Maul raises the issue of 'what might have been' in the alternate universe in which he and Cresta raised their own family. Normally, that's not a topic they discuss either. But since she's talking about it, Sheev feels he can talk about it, too.

"Look, I know that after what happened, you have never wanted to be a mother again-"

"I won't mother that skinny red brat!"

"-but Maul needs a mother and I need your help."

"He won't call me Mother! I won't allow it!" Cresta's voice keeps getting shriller.

"Fine. But he needs someone to look after him."

"So, your plan is to dump him on me? Is that it?"

Yes, if she'll let him. "He needs a mother."

"That is NOT our kid!"

The few stray, hastily wiped away tears now burgeon to a flood. Cresta gives up any pretense of composure as she succumbs to an all-out crying fit. She's embarrassed and angry about it, too. So much so that she heaves the empty glass she's holding. It shatters spectacularly upon impact with the pavement.

For his part, Sheev stands back, uncertain what to do. He's not used to his wife acting like this. Usually, she's emotional, but not vulnerable. Cresta has a hard shell of snappy sarcasm and aloof indifference, which is how she copes with being Lady Sidious.

Awkwardly, he approaches. "Hey-hey now, Red-" He offers his arms.

She shrugs him away and abruptly steps back. "Get off!"

That leaves rejected Sheev standing there with nothing but words to comfort her. "I feel the way you do about what happened-"

"You don't! You just think you do!"

"I will get our revenge," he vows, doubling down on his resolve upon seeing the true depth of her distress. "Plagueis will pay!" He clenches his fist. "With Maul's help, I will finally kill him." It's a dream that will liberate them both from the Muun's tyranny.

Cresta doesn't want to hear it. Between sniffs, she moans, "He'll just use that boy against you . . . like he would have used a son of our own against you . . ."

"It won't be like that. Maul's a good kid, but he's not our kid. He's not the same sort of pawn." This is actually a critical part of why his plan works, Sheev has decided. Because if the Muun kills Maul, it won't be the same sort of loss. That witch kid is important, but if in the future Maul becomes the subject of an ultimatum, he would be expendable.

"Why did you have to do this?" Cresta wails. "I hate thinking about the past . . . I was here to talk about the future . . . our future . . ." She's gaining more control now, finally getting a hold of her emotions.

Sheev tries again offering his embrace. This time, she accepts. Cresta nestles herself against him as he folds arms around her. And oh, this feels good. He has missed her. Sheev pulls her close.

"I'm so glad you came back," he murmurs into her messy hairbun piled high on her head. The flaming red locks that first caught his eye years ago are the signature look of his ballerina wife. She has a classically beautiful face and a sexy, sinewy body that looks just as good now as the day he met her. They are in their middle years today, but Cresta's as hot as ever.

"Does this mean we're okay?" he asks hopefully.

"Are you asking if I'm okay that you killed one of my friends?" She thrusts him back hard to break their embrace. "NO!" Cresta bellows emphatically.

Are they still bickering about this? Sheev fumes. With a straight face, he explains the twisted logic behind his jealous murder that prompted their most recent estrangement. "I did it for us. I never want anyone to come between us."

"Too late!" she hisses. "Your Master already did!"

She's making his point now. Sheev nods agreement. "That's why he needs to die."

"You're the one who's going to die, Sheev," Cresta groans. "Do you really think he won't see through your scheme?"

"He'll see it, but judge it a low risk," Sheev predicts. "He underestimates my power." This plot with Maul is a calculated risk worth taking.

Cresta won't be convinced. She's back to shrieking again. "Look, you fucking asshole, I don't want you dead! So put this whole plan out of your head!"

"It's too late for that. Maul's here. Look," he huffs, "I've got to at least try. I'm doing this for you-"

"Don't pin this on me! You're doing it for yourself! So you can rule your precious empire!"

"I will make you my empress," he angles.

"No, thanks." Annoyed Cresta whirls and prances away a few steps before she tosses aside her cigarette butt. Hugging her arms tight around her chest, she laments, "I came here to talk about the future, not to hear about your suicide plot . . ."

His wife is upset. She's angry. But most of all, she is scared for him. And that tells Sheev how much Cresta still loves him. She's the only person left alive who loves him, since he long ago killed his entire family as part of his training.

Sheev now approaches to lay hands on Cresta's shoulders. She's facing away, so he whispers in her ear. "I'm so glad you came back." He worried that this time they might part for good. In a galaxy full of danger and change, this woman is a rare constant in his life. He doesn't want to lose her. They have so much history together, even if much of it is ugly.

Cresta sighs and mutters, "Yeah, well the last performance of the season was Sunday, and I don't want to spend another summer on Alderaan."

"Did they renew your contract?"

"They made an offer. But I think I'm done."

This is news. "Okay . . . "

Cresta turns to face him and floats an idea that Sheev has argued for many times in the past before he finally gave up. He is therefore completely floored when she announces, "I'm thinking about coming back to Coruscant."

It's a huge, unanticipated concession on her part. Cresta looks up at him tentatively, gauging his response.

Sheev reacts fast. "Good!" This is excellent news, and it's well timed, too. "Does the ballet want you on staff?" His wife began her career with the Coruscant Ballet.

"Maybe," she shrugs. "I don't know. I don't care. I've been thinking about this a lot, and I really think I'm done."

"Done?" he repeats in confusion.

Cresta clarifies. "Done with dance."

"Oh." This is more big news.

"I don't want to be an arts administrator . . . I'm only average at choreography . . . I get frustrated with teaching . . . This all started when I was a kid, you know? I loved to dance. So, I danced all I could on some of the best, most prestigious stages in the galaxy. But I can't dance at that level any longer, and I don't really enjoy watching others do what I can't do. It . . . it gets me down."

Cresta's feigning cool nonchalance so earnestly that it tells Sheev how hard won this self-awareness is for her. "I guess what I'm saying is that I want a change. I don't want a new job in dance, I want a whole new career." She takes a deep breath and announces, "It's time for my second act."

Is she deep in midlife crisis? Excellent! Sheev leaps at the opportunity she's presenting. "I can help," he promises. "We'll get you to Coruscant and my people will set you up a charitable foundation to run-"

She shoots him down. "Not that."

"Okay. Then you can start your own boutique or something. That might be fun."

Again, she declines. "Not that."

Alright. He tries again. "Well, how about you take some time to decide what's next, and in the meantime you help me fit Maul into our lives. We can arrange things any way you like." If she's willing to compromise, then so is he.

But she's not going for it. Cresta shakes her head. "No, not that."

"Okay, then what?"

Cresta looks to him hopefully before she begins, "My brother has this opportunity . . . "

Her brother? Really? Sheev makes a face. "Does he want credits again?"

"Yes. He always wants credits. But this time, he mostly wants my name. He's got the chance to buy a club on Coruscant from some guy who owes him gambling debts. But he needs me as his business partner in order to get a liquor license since-"

"He's a felon." A two-time felon, in fact. His bookie brother-in-law is a shady character with little aptitude for the life of petty crime he has chosen. Sheev finds the connection to be terribly embarrassing. He has as little to do with the guy as possible.

"Look, the club is legit. The deal is legit."

"Riiiight." Sheev highly doubts that.

"I want to help him out, and it would give me something to do on Coruscant. I'll be an entrepreneur businesswoman," Cresta argues.

Sheev would much prefer that she confine her interests to non-controversial, wholly legal activities like charitable good works and community board service. But with Cresta, that was never going to be the case. She has no interest in being the conventional politician's wife.

"What kind of club is this?"

"It's an upscale bar."

"Upper Level?"

"Not exactly."

It figures. "Lower Level?"

"Mid Level. It's a neighborhood place where people stop by after work."

Sounds dreadful. "So . . . no strippers and spice?"

"It's Mid Level, not Underworld," she bristles. "Look, it's nice. It's not fancy, but it's not sleazy."

That's a relief. "How much is this going to cost me?"

Cresta names a number and assures him that the money will be a loan to her brother to be paid back from profits of the business. He hesitates, and she wheedles, "It will get me to Coruscant."

That's a big inducement, and Sheev knows he will say yes. But first, he wants to make clear the terms of their personal arrangement. Eyeing Cresta, he inquires, "Does this mean you'll be my wife again?"

"I am your wife."

He's glad to hear her say it, but that's not what he's asking. "Does that mean we'll live together again?" Are they back together as a couple? Or is she planning to rent her own apartment near this godawful middle class watering hole she's planning on managing?

Cresta lowers her chin and peeps up at him from beneath her lashes. It's a flirty look that usually promises some bedroom action. "I thought maybe we could give living together another try," she offers. "Some space is good for us. But Alderaan was too much space for too long."

That's an honest truth which he agrees with. But the sheepish way she says it makes Sheev instantly suspicious. Plus, the Force tells him how nervous Cresta is about this whole subject, and that suggests deception.

Stung, he explodes. "You really did fuck that guy, didn't you?!" He knew it! All along, he knew it!

She frowns at him and snarls, "No! No, I didn't!"

"You're lying!"

"I'm not! I didn't fuck him!"

"Liar!"

"Alright, I didn't fuck him . . . but I thought about it," Cresta amends in a small, defensive voice.

"Oh? So, he wasn't gay after all, eh?"

"No," she confesses miserably. "He was a friend. A close friend. We kept getting closer and-"

"I'm glad I killed him!" If he could kill him again, Sheev would. But that chance is lost. And Cresta is here now wanting to start anew. He can't blow this chance because, at the very least, he needs her help with Maul. So, irate though he is, Sheev endeavors to master his flaring temper.

His wife employs no such restraint. "I hate you! I really hate you, you Sith fucker!" Cresta lashes out. As usual, when they fight, her emotions match and mirror the intensity of his own. "I hate you, but I love you! So, I can't quit you! And I hate that part too!" she vents.

Yeah, those sentiments are mutual. Her words pretty much sum up their entire marriage, Sheev thinks sourly. He and Cresta have a distant, toxic, but torrid love. And that's how they both like it.

So, she had an emotional affair. It happens. He just fucked a witch queen on Dathomir while on assignment. That happens, too. So maybe, Sheev considers, they're even after all . . .

Enough about the dead guy on Alderaan. That's not a topic Sheev cares to pursue further. Instead, he caves in a huff to Cresta's business proposal. It's mostly to change the topic.

"Fine! You can have the credits. Go ahead, buy the bar. But make sure that the paperwork says that you own it outright whenever your brother reneges or defaults or goes to jail again. This will need to be kept completely separate from me." He can't get embroiled in some seedy low rent business scandal that might jeopardize his standing in the Senate.

"Your lawyers can handle everything," Cresta immediately accepts. "They can put whatever conditions and limits they want on the deal. It will all be in my name structured to operate through a dummy corporation. This will work," she promises. "I'm sure it will."

He's uncertain whether that last comment refers to her ill-advised business venture or to their personal reunion. But Sheev's not fool enough to attempt to clarify.

He looks her over now, thinking how fraught with conflict their on-again, off-again relationship has been. Is this the way it has to be because he's a Sith? Few women would sign up to the life he could give them. And those that would might be motivated by the wrong reasons. Cresta has her faults, but sincerity isn't one of them. She knows who he is and what he does, and she loves him anyway. She doesn't try to compete with his ambitions. She's with him for himself, not for the power, position, or fame he has. And while they constantly fight, he firmly trusts her. She's probably the only person he trusts, come to think of it.

Cresta is the furthest person from Lilith Talzin, Sheev realizes.

And so, even though seconds ago they were both bellowing at one another, he now feels emotionally close to Cresta. Closer than he's felt in a long time. "Red," the old nickname falls off his lips, "Red, I-I love you," he proclaims impulsively.

Cresta nods. Well, she more like shrugs. "I know." She's even less sentimental than he is. But she searches his face and frowns. "Do you really have to keep that red kid?"

"I do. He's my only hope of killing my Master. I need your help looking after him."

"Alright," his wife relents. "I'll see what I can do. I don't like it," she tells him pointedly, "but I'll help."

"This will work," he echoes her earlier words. It's encouragement that he himself needs to hear. Because she's right that he's taking an awful risk with Maul. But if he can get Cresta onboard and convince his Master not to kill the kid, maybe he really will pull this off. And if he and Cresta are back together and she's full-time on Coruscant, maybe this could be a new beginning for their marriage.

Suddenly, Sheev feels emboldened. Maybe the Force is with him. For look how things are coming together nicely for his personal life and professional machinations. It's all so improbable that it must be fate.

Now would be the time to confess his tryst with Lilith, but Sheev chickens out. He doesn't want to ruin this fragile new accord he has with Cresta. He decides that what she doesn't know can't hurt her. His wife never needs to know the truth of Dathomir.

This is the moment for a big kiss to seal their reconciliation. Cresta's standing close, looking up with her face tilted towards him. It's easy and natural for him to make his move. It's been forever since he last kissed her. So, he plans to make his one count. If there weren't Maul inside waiting for them, Sheev might take her straight to bed.

But for now, he has to be content with a passionate kiss. He and Cresta fit together perfectly, like always. Their bodies and mouths easily intertwine. Whatever their problems have been through the years-and there have been plenty-those troubles never involved the bedroom. The spark that lit a fire during their youth still burns bright. Tonight, Sheev revels in it. This kiss feels like a homecoming. He didn't know how much he needed it.

But, alas, it ends abruptly. The comlink in his pocket starts to buzz. It's an ill-timed interruption that instantly spoils the mood. But Sheev cannot ignore the call. That's his Master's special ringtone.

Yet again, Darth Plagueis has come between him and Cesta, Sheev thinks sourly.

His wife immediately pulls back. "I should go. I'll see to the kid," she mutters.

He nods as she quickly retreats into the house. They both know that it's best if his Master is not reminded of her presence.

With a deep fortifying breath, Sheev accepts the call. He activates the hologram mode so that he and his Master will appear to one another as projections. That's how the Muun prefers to communicate whenever possible.

The transmission sputters static for a few seconds. It means that his Master is in deep space transit somewhere. Will a visual connection be possible? Sheev hopes not, because that will keep the conversation short. But after a few more seconds of loud, scratchy fuzz, a holographic representation of the seven-foot tall Muun materializes. The transmission clears up. It's crystal clear now.

Well damn, Sheev sighs inwardly.

Hego Damask, Darth Plagueis, is seated at his desk on his gleaming yacht-sized cruiser. He's dressed in his official IGBC chairman garb, looking every bit the financial master of the universe that he is. For while Sheev is the secret politician Sith, his Master is the mogul bureaucrat type. He's the rich-guy-turned-beloved-public-servant who shapes monetary policy and oversees all financial regulation for the Republic. It is an extremely powerful position that far eclipses Sheev's individual influence as a Senator, even as Vice Chairman.

"You have returned," his Master begins. It's a statement, not a question.

"Yes. Just now." Sheev is sure his Master already knows that fact. He has long suspected that Darth Plagueis surveils his movements closely.

"Was the mission a success?"

"Yes," Sheev answers without hesitation. Does his Master know he's being lied to? He might. That big Muun forehead wrinkles thoughtfully. It's a subtle sign that Plagueis is displeased.

But rather than ask for details, his Master changes the topic. "There has been a disturbance. Have you felt it?"

A disturbance in the Force? No, he hasn't felt it. But that's an unacceptable answer. Sheev doesn't dare risk looking weak and underpowered before his Master. So, he intones with his best sage-like voice, "Indeed I have, Master," hoping he sounds convincing.

Yet again, the Muun's forehead wrinkles.

Sheev starts to sweat. That's two direct lies to his boss in less than a minute.

The Muun peers at him now. Sheev can tell he's being assessed. "What did you do with the witches to wreak such havoc on my mind? It felt like the Jedi Order enacted another schism."

How does he answer that? Sheev is flummoxed for how to explain a Force disturbance that he didn't sense.

While he hesitates, his Master guesses. "Did you fight the Mother Witch? Did you slay her while killing the child?"

"No. I fucked her," Sheev blurts out. It's a distracting truth, and it's all he can think to say in the moment.

The Muun blinks in surprise. "Did you now?" he grins and chuckles. Suave Plagueis is a rather randy fellow. Behind closed doors, his Master definitely likes the ladies. And that unfortunately means he is titillated by the flippantly delivered news. Sheev belatedly realizes that he has encouraged his Master's interest, and that is ill-advised under the circumstances. The less said about his sojourn to Dathomir, the better.

"Well then, I must hear more of your adventures," Plagueis decides. "I am currently six hours outbound from Muunilinst on my way to Coruscant. I'll be passing through the Mid Rim shortly. Meet me at the coordinates I'm sending you."

Fuck! He's busted. Sheev gulps. He and the Muun could easily discuss matters over this encrypted transmission. But instead, he's being summoned. That has to mean he's busted. Plagueis rarely reveals his anger until he can deliver his punishment in person.

But, of course, Sheev obeys. He's known all along that he will need to explain to Plagueis about Maul. So, striving to appear the devoted minion, he affirms, "Yes, Master."

Plagueis continues: "I wish to discuss the disturbance and hear the report on your mission. I want to hear all about the Mother Witch. All about her," the Muun smirks wickedly.

"As you wish," Sheev grovels even as he cringes inwardly.

The transmission ends.

Sheev now strides into his house to collect Maul. There won't be any downtime after all. It's time to present Maul to his Master and make the case for the boy to live.