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Star Wars: Eclipse (TheCorsair and Xana)

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What did that bitch do to you?"

"You want to know what she did to me?”. Kaydia's voice was an angry lash as she struggled against him, the movements of her body a nightmare parody of their times together. Then, before he could respond, she took advantage of their connection and struck at him through the Force.

Memory flooded through him, too fast and too violent to process or resist. He felt the embedded SIN modules shred his nerves with exquisite pain/pleasure sensations, and the sting of a needle just before the numbness of inertia flooded his veins. Felt the heady guilt/need of Linora's touch. Screamed with tormented despair as chains rattled as her fourth rapist violated her while Linora watched...

Curled on the rooftop, he was dimly aware of the lightsaber leaping to Kaydia's hand. She'd kill him now, he knew. At Linora's demand. And because he'd failed her. Worst of all, there was nothing he could do to stop her. Months of horror tore through his mind, overwhelming any chance he could regain control before...

"Harlan!"

Shaking, he looked up into the face of Xin Talsen, another member of the auditing staff. "Wha..?"

Xin offered him a hand, pulling him to a sitting position. "You okay, buddy?"

"Uh... I, I think so..." He looked around. "Where... where is she?"

"Ah, man," Xin exclaimed, alarmed. "Sorry, Har. Not trying to cock block!"

"No, no," Quentin assured him, shakily climbing to his feet. "She... she's gone, now."

Xin eyed him and whistled. "Damn. Must be one hell of.a woman."

"You have no idea."


Later...

Alone in his room, Quentin splashed water on his face and stared at his altered features in the mirror. He looked... haunted. Shaken. Tormented.

"She's alive," he whispered, meaning both women simultaneously. "She's alive," he repeated, voice a little stronger.

He turned on his heel and crossed the room, throwing open a case. "Kaydia's alive. And I failed her twice now, when she needed me most." He began extracting tools and concealed parts from the case.

"Not again," he vowed, getting to work. "Not again."
 
Scarlet entered the first restaurant she came across as she made it to the street. Slipping in without much notice, she headed straight for the restrooms, locking herself in the stall to finally take a moment to breath. Everything she had run from caught up with her as she crumpled onto the tile floor in a sobbing mess. The pain of the memories she unleashed on Quentin, weighing on her. It wasn’t as if she could weaponized them against him without feeling their filth on her own skin.

She couldn’t kill Quentin. She knew that, as she cried against the cool linoleum wall. And yet, she couldn’t let him live. There was no privacy in her mind anymore, no place Linora couldn't access. Linora would know and she would… Scarlet wrapped her arms around her knees, rocking on the floor as unthinkable horror passed through her.

There had to be another way! She could…she could go to Quentin. Ask for his help, in escaping Linora’s gunmetal grip. If I had known, though, I would have come here for you. She believed him; at least she wanted to believe him. But how long did the fantasy of his rescue play in her mind? The desperate belief that he would come to Mustafar, lightsaber a blazing. He would cut down everyone who had ever hurt her, and carry her out in his arms. He would take her away from the pain, and she would be safe for the first time in a decade. Holding on to that hope was almost as bad as anything Linora had done to her. In the end she was left with nothing but words, words that could do little to protect her.

Wiping her eyes, she realized nothing would be resolved by crying on the floor like little girl. There had to be something; There was always something. She pulled out the holodisk, thinking back to his words on the roof. I came hunting a Sith Lord. What did this have to do with a Sith Lord? Did A Sith contract her to do their dirty work? Did Linora know?

She checked the data on the holodisk once more. She couldn’t see how any of this related to a Sith Lord, but perhaps further investigation would deliver an answer to her dilemma. And, just maybe, she’d run into Quentin again. Whether the prospect was alluring or terrifying, she couldn’t begin to say.


“Name?”

“I am on list,” Scarlet insisted in a light voice that carried a fair bit of weight.

“You are on the list,” the voice repeated, slightly hallow, before moving aside to grant her access. Scarlet hadn’t bothered with a persona this evening, hoping to be in and out without calling much attention to herself. She dressed well, in a sleek black gown, that managed sexy without showing any skin. Pining crimson curls to one side, she fit in easily among the leagues of upper class trophy spouses, who had too much time on their hands.

The party was crowded, some charity gala of a sort. She hadn’t paid much attention to the details, all she knew was that that Eris Hill, the woman throwing the party was married to a San Hill. Leader of the banking clan and listed several times in the dossier. Whoever was actually financing the ship in question had help from Hill to launder the funds. She wasn’t sure what she hoped to find at the man’s residence, but she had to do something. So she took a glass of champagne off a server’s tray and scanned the ball room, looking for access to the upper levels.
 
Quentin fiddled with the sleeves of his grey suit, silently wishing that he'd chosen some other cover. Because, although being a Republic Auditor gave him plausible reason to visit Sienar, it also kept him busy in a mandatory round of corporate social events when he wasn't helping review their books. Sure, it allowed him to comb through looking for clues to the origin of the Sith Lord's ship, but it also subjected him to tedium. And he'd never really enjoyed formal social events, not since he'd accidentally eaten half a sculpture as a padawan.

"And how do you find Frisia, Auditor Kwan-Don?" someone asked him. He blinked, sipping from his drink to cover his moment's hesitation as he struggled to call the man's name to mind.

"With an astronavigational chart, Mr. Kell," Quentin responded with a little smile.

The small, pale man laughed at that. "Very droll. It's a pleasure to meet an Auditor with a sense of humor."

They engaged in small talk for a few minutes, then Quentin mimed looking at his chron. "My apologies, but I need to meet someone." He offered a little sigh. "Duty calls."

"No, no, I understand," Kell assured him. "Perhaps we shall meet later."

Quentin nodded and headed towards the doors at the back of the room. It hadn't been a lie, not from a certain point of view. Duty did call. But duty, in this case, was the task given him by the Order. San Hill's banking clan was the primary financier for Sienar, after all. If anyone would have - or at least be able to access - the trail he needed, it would be him. So Quentin drifted through the door and towards the stairs, tugging on a pair of thin black gloves as he went.

The first few floors would be easy. The party at the Hill estate occupied most of the public levels of the building. He'd have to be careful beginning on the third floor, though. Only the family and servants would be allowed there, after all. And he was neither. There would be measures in place to keep criminals and busybodies out. Surveillance systems. Discrete patrols. Pressure and temperature sensors. Pheromone detectors. And on and on.

Quentin smiled at the thought. Fortunately, he was no criminal or busybody. He was a Shadow, and he'd not yet met the security system that could keep him out.
 
With skills honed over a decade’s long career, Scarlet managed to make it to a study on the fourth floor of the Hill Estate. Now that she was in here, she had no idea what she was doing. What she was looking for. What even the point of all this was. What did she hope to find, that would get her off the hook for killing Quentin? What could this room possibly contain that would make prevent Linora from punishing her again? Was this just an elaborate procrastination, to avoid doing what had to be done? To hold on to that last vestige of Kaydia, that part of her that only lived on in Quentin’s memories?

So she looked through Hill’s files and correspondence, noting one name that came popping up. Hego Damask. A magister for the banking clan who had died on Coruscant five years ago. Before his demise he had process many of the monetary transfers relating to the interceptor ship referenced in her holodisk files.

She might have had a half of a picture now, but she still had no idea what she was supposed to be seeing, and worst still, nothing that she could conceivably use. She saved copies of key files to her holodisk, the transfer just completing as she sensed footsteps approaching the room. Ducking under the desk, she hoped it was just a patrol doing it’s hourly sweep. If they peaked into an empty room, there was little reason to investigate, or so she hoped. So she held her breath as the door opened, and she counted the footsteps as they came closer and closer. Concisely she ran through a list of excuses of why she had been up here, if she was found, and she couldn’t find one that she could hope would work.

With the footstep growing closer, and the intruder making their way around the room, she began formulating a battle plan in case she had to fight her way out. Just one person, so it shouldn’t be difficult to get past them. Knee to the groin, and then slam the head into the desk. It should be just enough to knock them out, before they even had a chance to see her face. Adrenaline flooded her veins as she readied herself to strike, the figure coming into view now. Human male, fit build, dressed in an impeccable suit. Scarlet had nearly launched into her attack before she got a good look at his face, and the blue-grey eyes she could never forget.

“Quentin?” She asked in a shouted whisper, standing to her feet now. He was so close they were nearly touching, and all she could think about in the moment was how good he looked, even in his damn disguise. “I must sound like a malfunctioning hologram, but what are you doing here?”

There was no time to hear his answer. The security patrol was drawing closer and at least with him right here she had a plausible excuse to be found in the prohibited floors of the house. Play along, her mind called to his, as she took two fistfuls of his suit into her hands and pulled him over her as she lean back over the desk. The intention was to fake making out with him, as if they were just two drunk party goers, looking for a place to fool around away from the prying eyes of the party. However as soon her lips brushed his, fake kissing turned into real passion, deep hunger consuming her as she opened his mouth with her tongue. She may have intended to put on an act, but there was no denying the desire that built as the kiss lingered, and grew deeper.
 
It wasn't easy, making it to the third floor. And entering the fourth floor had tested his skills to the limit. The thought brought a smile to his lips. Much of his work had involved infiltrating smaller groups - planetary criminal gangs, small Dark Side cults, and the like. It was nice to have to work for a change.

Wrapping the Force around himself like a cloak, he walked along the hall towards the small office he'd selected. The technique wouldn't render him invisible (there were techniques that could, but they warped the pqth of light and left the user blind...), but it would encourage the weak-minded to simply fail to notice his presence as long as he remained discrete.

The mental discipline for the technique was tiring, but worth it.

San's private office lay ahead. It hadn't been his first choice, but he'd quickly realized it was his only choice. The information he required, after all, was hardly likely to be found in the public network in a folder conveniently labeled "SECRET SITH MONEY LAUNDERING INCRIMINATING DETAILS", after all. He'd have to simply download the full contents of San's private network, and sort through them later...

The office door was unlocked. And slightly warm to the touch.

Quentin frowned, relaxing his mental disciplines to better focus on the task before him. He made a quick gesture, causing the dull silver bracelet on his wrist to unfold, enclosing his hand in something like a lace glove of metal threads. Best to be prepared, he decided.

The room appeared empty, but the senses of a Jedi felt the whisper of displaced air on his skin. Caught the faint whiff of a familiar scent, heard the soft rustle of cloth and the suppressed exhalations of someone breathing. He shifted his feet, slowly raising one gloved hand as he activated an identical bracelet on the other. He wasn't...

"Quentin?"

Wait, what?

Kaydia rose from behind the desk, clad in a form-hugging black gown that managed to be able to be both utterly modest and still leave no doubt of her raw sexuality. "I must sound like a malfunctioning hologram," she whispered, "but what are you doing here?"

"I..." he started to say, then froze as he heard distant, approaching footsteps. Kaydai must have heard them as well, the way her emerald eyes flickered to the door. Then she moved, hands making fists in his lapels as she dragged him back towards the desk.

Play along. The thought wasn't his, but as her tongue thrust into his mouth he found he wasn't concerned about whose thought it was. He pressed her back against the desk, his left hand tangling in her hair as his tongue fought hers . He made a hungry sound against her lips as his right hand slid down to her hip, twisting and bunching the long fabric ubtil he felt the smooth skin of her thigh beneath his fingers.

Breaking away from the kiss, he pulled her bated leg around his hip and ground his hardening erection agaibst her. His left hand tightened, and lips and teeth dragged at her high collar as he tilted her head back. Unconcerned about the approaching guard now he bit at her, little stinging pains soothed by his lips and tongue.
 
What a pair they were. A woman who could make a Jedi forget his vows, and a man who could keep an assassin distracted with mind-blowing sex. With their combined skills they could pose a serious threat to any government or illicit organization, if they could pull themselves away from each other long enough to get any work done.

Even now, an act meant merely to give them an excuse to be here was turning into something more. He was supposed to be well trained and disciplined, but she could feel his cock throbbing against her. She was charged with killing him, but all she could think about was how badly she wanted him, wanted to fuck him until she passed out. The task at hand, the job that needed to be done took a backseat to the longing and need of the past year and a half.

Trembling fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, fighting against a manic urge just to rip it open and caress his muscles. Instead she kept him close with her leg wrapped around him, her ankle digging in the back of his thighs. The sharp graze drew a gasp from her lips, fading into a shuddering moan as his tongue played over it. Finally she had his shirt open enough to fit her hand, grasping at his chest with needy fingers.

“Fucking hell, HEY!” The door opened and lights were flashed in, converging on their position. So lost in Quentin’s embrace, Scarlet forgot it was an act, or rather, was supposed to be an act. Which, paradoxically, made her performance all the more believable, clinging desperately to Quentin, as the Kel Dorran security patrol entered the room. “Seriously? You pass over a whole floor of bedrooms to fool around in an office?”

“See Harlan, if we had picked a suite on the third floor we would have gotten further along before we got caught,” Scarlet quipped, unable to take her hands off him even as her feet found solid ground. The patrolman didn’t look particularly amused, turning his attention to Quentin.

“Auditor Kwan Don, I can either escort you and your acquaintance back to the party, or I can arrange for a driver to take the two of you to a nearby hotel. We give them a lot of business, so they’ll give you a good rate. Regardless, I have to see you both to the elevator right now. I trust you two aren’t going to give me any trouble?”

“I’ll be good,” Scarlet insisted, arm wrapped around his waist, unsure if she was playing up her performance for the guard, or truly unwilling to disentangle from Quentin, “for now.” The guard led them to the elevator, using a key card on his person to engage it and send them to the first floor.

“So should I call for a driver, or you two returning to the party?”
 
Not trusting himself to speak, Quentin busied himself with buttoning his shirt and straightening himself up as Kaydia spoke to the guard. The guard. Hells, he'd become so thoroughly distracted by her that he'd forgotten that the guard was on his way. How did she do that to him?

"Auditor?"

"Huh?" Quentin responded, looking at the guard blankly.

The Kel Dor sighed, a rasping noise behind his breathing mask. "Should I call you a car, or..."

"No, no, no need," Quentin managed, not quite looking at Kaydia. "I've transport of my own, and I really should mingle a little more before leaving." He stepped into the elevator as the door opened. "My, ah, my apologies."

The guard shook his head. "Just don't let me catch you up here again, and we'll call it even."

Kaydia's presence seemed to fill the elevator as the door closed. He could smell her, feel her heat in his skin. Curious and trying to fill the tension, he turned to ask her what she was doing there. She must have had the same idea, because suddenly they were face to face.

There was no planning, no conscious decision to what came next. He ooened his mouth, intending to ask her a question. But then he was pinning her against the wall with his body, hands exploring her as his hips ground against her, his tongue and his animal sounds of hunger filling her mouth.
 
"No, no, no need. I've transport of my own, and I really should mingle a little more before leaving."

Scarlet tried to disguise the disappointment with which his remark had filled her. Not that it should have been a surprise. After all, it’s not like they were back together or anything like that. Just an act, to reduce suspicion on them, so she could smuggle her holodisk full of incriminating information out of the manse. So, even if she wasn’t leaving with him, she was leaving. Each moment she stay increased the chances of someone figuring out she had accessed the secure files. Besides, it was probably better that they didn’t leave together, or end up in bed together tonight. She was supposed to kill him, and fucking him would only make that harder. A thought that shifted as she remembered feeling him grow hard against her.

The door closed them in and despite the air conditioning that functioned perfectly well, it was sweltering. All she wanted in that moment was to tear off his suit and run her fingers over his body. Slip and slide out of her dress as it pooled on the floor and take in the look of frank admiration in his eyes as he gazed upon her. Feel the love flow from his mind to hers; remember how desire felt, instead of terror and repulsion and obligation.

She looked up at him, looking up into those eyes, pale blue and full of questions and curiosity. I should go, she wanted to say; she knew she should say. The words wouldn’t come though. His own mouth opened, but instead of words, he was kissing her again, pushed against the glass with his firm physique. And now her hands were tangling in his hair, and she answered his moans with her own.

What was this now? More acting or unconstrained lust? Need, longing, hunger overtook her senses, her concerns, her hesitations. Whatever it was, it stronger that her common sense, stronger than her obligations.

Kissing madly, neither one was paying much attention as the door opened to whispers and muted laughter. Scarlet felt the gazes, watching their passion with interest and scandal. She didn’t care. Quentin could strip her nude and fuck her brains out right here, in the middle of the ballroom, and she couldn’t bring herself to protest.

Still, they had to breathe, and when they finally did pull away enough to gasp for breath, Scarlet heard a high pitched whistle come from the back of the room. Nearly uniform laughter broke out, and despite herself Scarlet found her chuckling slightly.

“Duty calls, hmm?” a voice called to them. Him, most likely. “No wonder you were so quick to ditch me.”
 
Laughter and applause penetrated Quentin's lust-fogged brain, and it suddenly dawned on him that there were two important elements of this elevator: it opened right into the great hall of the state, and on this level it was entirely transparent. As a result, he and Kaydia were putting on a show for the entire party. Which would naturally defer suspicion, but it was not how he'd intended to cover his trail.

A small part of his thoughts wished they'd gotten further, thiugh. That the whole party could have seen him as he fucked her senseless...

He shook that thought away. "Uhm, yeah..." He ran his fingers through his hair, face sheepish. "Well..."

Kell clapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly. "Still trying to get blood back to your brain, Harlan?" he laughed. "No worries, i understand. But you look a little pale. Maybe you should go and lie down?"

Quentin watched Kell undress Kaydia with his eyes, and fought down the urge to break the man's nose. Instead, he half turned and offered her his arm. "Shall we depart?"
 
At this point in her career, lust rippling off onlookers towards her felt like background noise, and was easy to brush off. What was interesting was Quentin’s quick burst of aggression, restrained with great effort. Was he feeling possessive or protective? Either way it inflamed her desire, as she briefly fantasized that he fucked her hard, for them all to see, spending himself within her to mark her as his.

Where was this protectiveness when Linora had you tortured? Where was this
possessiveness when she laid claim to you, after breaking down all your defenses? Where was he when you needed him?

"Shall we depart?"

“Actually, I should go…” she finally managed, forcing a smile. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, not daring to linger, lest she be pulled back into his arms and lose all resolve, “But it was nice to see you, Harlan. Here’s to hoping we run into each other again” The words were light and playful, but Scarlet knew there was a sinister edge to them. That she would have to kill him if she ran into him again.

She forced herself to turn away, to walk and not look back. If she looked back she would be lost in his eyes again. If she looked back she would be Kaydia again, as he called out her name in the heat of passion. So she ignored the looks on the rest of the guests as they watched her leave, ignored the needy tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Not stopping until she was back in her rented speeder, sinking into the leather seats.

“Fuck.”



“Your assassin isn’t as loyal as you think,” a distorted voice suggested. Linora scowled at the suggestion.

“She has only had the mission for less than 24 hours. These things take time. If you could provide me more information on her intended target, I can get an estimate on how long it should take,” Linora justified.

“She’s already found the target,” the voice shot back, sending over security footage of Scarlet tangled up with a man, pressed into the glass wall of an elevator. His hands explored her, caressing and gripping her with desperate need, a desperate need reflected in Scarlet’s arms holding him close.

“This is…part of her process,” Linora argued, shaken by what she was seeing. She hadn’t seen such passion or desire from Scarlet in the time they had been together. Linora figured the loss of that hunger was just side effect of the reprograming. A piece of her that was lost so that Linora could have her obedient killer. “She’s just acting, to get him alone, so she can make her move.”

“And how is that going to work when he shows up and dead and this video of her with him turns up? She has no intention of killing him.”

Linora knew the client was right. She could see it in the genuine smile and look of happiness in Scarlet's eyes as the people around them laughed. A look she never saw in Scarlet's eyes. Not anymore. Linora frowned as jealousy tore through her.

"I'll send in my own people to take care of it. Consider our contact completed."

I understand," Linora said simply, holding down her anger. Who in the hell was this man, who could distract Scarlet so? She watched the holovid play, zooming in on the man, so she could understand how Scarlet could be divert form her task.

Those eyes, gazing upon Scarlet with hunger and...love? Eyes that had once looked into Linora's own with those same emotions flowing from his mind to hers. Dammit, no wonder Scarlet had gotten off task. All of the people in the galaxy, she had been sent against the one man who could unravel all the conditioning Linora had spent months working on.

"Quentin. I'm am going to fucking kill him this time."
 
Kaydia left, leaving his arm hanging as he watched her go. After a second of disbelief, Quentin started after her only to find a hand on his shoulder. "Let her go," Kell laughed. "She's hot and all, but you can find another piece of ass." Kell watched her leave as well. "You're on an expense account, after all. And, technically, she'd be a business expense..."

Kell's laughter was cut off by Quentin's fist. The man crashed hard to the ground, a fine mist of blood spraying from a split lip. For a moment, everything went still as the crowd watched 'Auditor Kwan-Don' struggle with the temptation to fall on the man. His fists trembled, and his face was white with fury. And then Quentin spun on his heel, stalking out of the hall before he lost control once more. The cool evening air didn't sooth his mood, though. And he was acutely aware of Kaydia's absence as he headed for his speeder.


Later...

Quentin sat alone on the bed in his suite, legs folded and hands resting on his knees, seeking balance once more. He'd lost control. The thought chased itself through his mind. He'd lost control/ Kell was a pig, it was true. But... he'd lost control. Lost his grip on his emotions, lashed out with anger and frustration.

“Fear is the path to the dark side," he murmured, reminding himself. "Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.”

Kaydia had suffered. He'd felt it all, when she'd attacked him with her memories. Suffered terribly, as Linora had heaped abuse and degradation and suffering on her. Suffered, because he'd been unable to find her. Suffered, because he'd given her up for dead. Suffered, until all trace of the woman he'd loved had been extinguished.

But he remembered the feel of her fingers on his skin as she'd tugged open his shirt. The way she'd returned his passion in the elevator, when she'd been under no obligation to do so. The feel of her mind against his, opening to his thoughts as he welcomed her. Was Kaydia dead? Really dead? Was Scarlet all that remained. He didn't think so. But she had been wounded, and forced into hiding. Driven deep down into her mind, where the persona of Scarlet could protect her real self from the horrors that had been inflicted on her.

Inflicted by Linora, the woman he'd once loved.

"Linora. I'm going to fucking kill her this time."
 
MF Fantasy Smut Scene: Quentin and Kaydia
  • Index
    • Returning back to her hotel room that evening, Scarlet found that Quentin still weighed heavily in her mind. She could still feel his warmth on her skin, taste his mouth on her tongue, hear his longing cries in her mind. Fuck, she still wanted him, craved him, needed him. Retreating to the bathroom, she ran herself a bath before getting undressed. A bath was a tad bit indulgent, but she couldn’t help but think back to their last time, as he fucked her in the tub on Linora’s ship. When he assured her that he still loved her and needed her. When there was still hope for their relationship, and she was still Kaydia.

    Sinking into the heat of her bath, Scarlet found she still couldn’t relax. Unsatisfied desire gnawed at her, consumed her, and without thinking, her hands moved down her body, in a way she wished his hands had.

    Her mind went back to the elevator, only this time, he spun her around before pushing her against the glass wall. One hand went around her waist, holding her against him, so she could feel his growing erection press into her ass. His other hand began unzipping her dress, while teeth and tongue teased her earlobe.

    “I missed you, Kaydia,” He murmured, as the zipper lowered to reveal the smooth skin of her back to him. She shuddered as he spoke that name, her name, or at least, it once was. Only with him could she be Kaydia again.

    “Quentin,” she gasped, begged as he kissed her neck, fingers trailing along her bare back. “Fuck, I need you.” His hand circled around her hip and down her stomach, slipping inside her panties.

    “They are watching us,” he whispered against her ear, his fingers moving down to toy with her clit.

    “Let them…let them watch…” she moaned, raspy breaths interrupting her thoughts, “Let them watch… as you… bring me …to orgasm. Let them watch me …cum.” He groped her breast form outside her dress, teeth digging into her shoulder as his finger explored her wet heat. She was lost in the nirvana of his touch, of his kiss, of his embrace, so far gone surrendering to bliss that she didn’t even protest as he gathered the fabric of her dress at the neck, pulling it down her body as he stroked harder and deeper into her depths. It didn’t take much coaxing before it was puddled on the floor of the elevator, and she was clad in merely a bra and panties.

    She turned now, interrupting his rhythm just long enough to face his, tearing at his pants with the same eager hunger he had shown her. “Fuck me,” She implored, before thrusting her tongue in his mouth, slipping out of her soaking panties. His fingers, still dripping with her lust, gripped her under her ass, picking her up and wedging her between the glass wall and his body. Penetration was sudden, and overwhelming, followed by a shuddered scream of satisfaction. He fucked her into the wall, her ass cheeks smudging the glass and squeaking with his movement.

    It all felt so real, memories of previous couplings merging with her fantasy to the point she could actually feel his cock inside her. She was close now, gasping and moaning and trembling as she chased her climax.

    At the same time her nerves beseech her release, her senses caught something else. Someone else, nearby. It was an effort to stop, as she tried to focus on the unexpected presence. Part of her thought it might be Quentin. Wished it were Quentin. Wished he were here, now, to take her into his arms and make love to her the rest of the night, consequences be damned. She just wanted to be Kaydia again, one last time…

    Three heartbeats. Not Quentin then. Disappointment took a backseat to concern, as she eased herself from her bath. Had someone discovered what she had done at the Hill residence? But as she opened her mind to see the intruders she was hit with a cold bitter wind in the force, and she knew who was here for her was far worse than the bodyguards of a wealthy executive. What the fuck had she stumbled into?

    Scarlet barely had time to tie on a robe before the door opened in on her, a male Togruta with red skin and black montrals and head tails closing in on her. She saw the flicker of silver as he pulled his lightsaber, flying into a shoulder tackle before he could ignite it. She slammed him into the back wall, positioning his own lightsaber against his chest and flicking it on, watching briefly as the light left his eyes. To her right she heard the snap hiss of two more sabers stirring, and she had to jump to her left to avoid a slash from a twi’lek female with blue skin and burning orange eyes. The heated blade caught only her robe, incinerating her last defense as she rolled behind her bed.

    A pale human male jumped at her, an overhead strike that she could not defend against. She force pushed him with all her might, sending him through the window with his own momentum on her seventh floor room. The remaining twi’lek responded in kind, sending Scarlet into the far wall. Scarlet was just able to roll out of the way as the Twi’lek brought down her weapon, leaping to her feet and towards the door. Her fingers gripped the knob , slippery from her bath and from the sweat of the fight. As twisting failed her she felt the burning blade sink into her thigh, her body collapsing as it could no longer hold up her weight.

    She turned as slumped against the door, catching the sadistic smile on the face of her twi’lek attacker. “The famed Scarlet is mortal after all. Hmm, the flavor of your fear is lovely.” Unwilling to die just yet, Scarlet found the lightsaber of her first attacker, pulling towards her and igniting it in a single motion. It caught the twi’lek in the back, as it moved to Scarlet’s hand, severing her spine before she could move to finish off Scarlet.

    Alive, but barely, there wasn’t any time to rest. She examined her injury, relieved that the heat of the lightsaber prevented much blood loss. That her leg wasn’t completely sheared off was a miracle, and she focused her power to mending the slash. Muscle and skin bonded and repaired itself, closing the injury. She didn’t have it in her to completely heal her leg, but it was enough to stand and walk on it, limping a bit. Exhaling hard, she forced herself up, managing to tie a wrap dress around her.

    These people weren’t Black Sun. This was something far darker than the criminal organization, something far more sinister. Whatever Quentin was investigating was catching up to her, and she knew now that she needed his help, if there was hope to survive. Collecting her saber and the holodisk, she left to seek him out, hobbling along on her injured leg.
     
  • Index
    • The showet wasn't helping. Not really. The needle jets of nearly scalding water lashed his skin, bringing a reddish cast to hi mahogany skin, and it did nothing to calm his whirling thoughts. He could taste her, feel her skin sliding against his, and he hardly noticed as his hand curled around the steel bar of his shaft. He braced himself against the wall, pounding his meat into his hand as he imagined - felt - her slick heat gripping and squeezing him.

    The water was like fingers, like the soft heat of her body, as it coursed over him. He gasped, thrusting harder and faster into his fist, the distorted echoes of his self-pleasure transforming into her cries of passion as he drew closer and closer. She moaned into his ear as he fucked her into the glass, her lewd demands and the jealous eyes of the other guests driving him to new heights. "They're watching," he breathed. "Does that make you hot? You like getting fucked, where everyone can see how much you love this thick cock?"

    Her head rolled back, a keening cry tearing from her throat as they neared completion, and then the illusion was gone. He gasped, grunting in shock as his cock pulsed in his grip and his semen spurted against the wall in thick jets. When he finished, he splashed water on the wall and cleaned off, then began towling himself off mechanically.

    What was that all about? Well, he understood. But... he hadn't jerked off lije thst since... well, since... since the assassins arrived.

    The last thought propelled him into action. He hurled himself to the ground, reaching out with the Force as the door of his suite exploded in. Three of them, he saw as his lightsaber flew towards his hand. Two humans and a Trandoshan, all bearing lightsabers of their own. "No you don't, Jedi!" one of them snarled as, reaching out, he redirected the flying weapon.

    Quentin's eyes went wide as he realized they had some Force training of their own. But he was moving as he realized it, the bracelets on his wrist opening into mesh gloves just in time to block his first attacker. A pale crimson blade snapped and hissed as he deflected it with his palms and he used the shock that resulted to drive his fingers into the man's throat, crushing his larynx before snapping his elbow.

    The dead weight of the gagging man became a makeshift shield, blocking the other human's strike as he ducked under the Trandoshan's slash. Stomping down, he popped the dead man's saber up and caught it, igniting it in just enough time to parry the human's overhead stroke. Before he could riposte, though, the Trandoshan was driving him back with a flurry of blows.

    Quentin gave ground, but knew he couldn't do so for long. The suite wasn't that big. So he batted a stroke aside and stepped in, driving a thumb into the Trandoshan's eye. There was a wet pop and a sizzle, and the reptilluan screamed and staggered back. Then there was a crimson blade in his field of vision, and Quentin barely parrued the living human's blow. Lightning flickered and strobed as blades connected, and then Quentin spun his blade around the human's and lunged. The human went pale as the blade speared into his chest and then tore out.

    A roar of fury caught Quentin, and he struggled desperately as long, scaly arms wrappedcaround him and lifted him from the ground. "Gonna kill you, Jedi!" the wounded Trandoshan bellowed. "Snap your bones. And eat your heart!"

    It wasn't an idle boast. Quentin could feel his ribs creak under the powerful grip, and his captured saber had fallen nerveless fingers. Spots danced before his eyes, and it was more luck than skill that flailing feet caught and kicked at the wall. Even then, had the Trandoshan not tripped over a dead comrade, things would have gone poorly. Instead, Quentin managed to twist and drive his force-shielded fists into the reptile's face. Once. Twice. The third blow crached the thick skull and the fourth crushed it in.

    Gasping for breath, Quentin stared around the room. Jedi. They'd said Jedi. Which meant that, even though he'd been victorious, Harlan Kwan-Don was of necessity dead. Because he was known, now.

    Moving swiftly, Quentin pulled on a nondescript grey jumpsuit and buckled his utility belt. Jedi, he thought as he slipped his saber into a thigh pouch. They'd said Jedi. He was hunting a Sith Lord, and Force-sensitive assassins had come to kill him. To kill a Jedi. But... how had they known?

    His blood went cold as he realized the only possible answer.

    Kaydia.
     
    Immediately, Scarlet identified a problem with her plan to run to Quentin for help. Well, a problem besides her inability to run at the moment. How could she find him? There was one way, and her stomach twisted in knots to consider it. She could reach for him, in the force. Open her mind to the way the force ebbed and flowed around her. It was terrifying, to have her mind so open, after spending months trying to keep Linora out. But as she limped through the halls of the hotel, she knew there wasn’t another way.

    Opening herself, she was immediately hit with rage and violent intentions. He was close…and in danger! She pushed herself, wincing each time her wounded leg touched the ground. Bursting into the stairwell, she cringed as she felt his presence three floors above her. Fuck, she really could have gone for some inertia now. It would dull the pain, and make it easier to get to him. But it would also make her unable to care if she got to him, unable to motivate herself to fight or help him. Breathing deep, she climbed the stairs, each step agony, but not slowing her pace, despite the way still healing muscles begged for mercy. Still it took her longer to get to his floor than it had taken her to scale the building starting at the ground floor earlier.

    Fear and hatred radiated from a room, his room, most likely. It was hard to tell how many heartbeats there were, as violence raged on. Staggering, knowing she was reopening the wound, but not caring, so long as she got to Quentin in time. The door was still opened, and she could smell the death and ozone seeping out of the room. Lightsaber in hand, ignited in pure crimson fury, she burst into his room.

    “Quentin?!”
     
    He was grabbing the last of his emergency kit, the feel of a presence seeking him in the Force driving him to faster action, when the door flew open. "Quentin!"

    Ten minutes ago, he'd hoped to hear her voice again. He'd dreamed of hearing her voice again. But that was before he'd realized she'd betrayed him. Sent the assassins, or given his identity to the one who had. It wasn't the voice of Kaydia, not anymore. It was the voice of Scarlet he heard, as she stood there with crimson-blade ignited and braced in a battle stance. Scarlet, feared assassin of the Black Sun, come looking for him. He could sense that in her mind, mingled with fear and rage.

    "Scarlet," he answered, turning to face her. And then the Force flowed through him, striking with power enough to slam the bodies of the dead into the far wall as he drove her back into the hallway. The sound of pain she uttered as she slammed into the far wall pierced him like a blade, and he forced himself to harden his heart against it. Scarlet was a killer, pure and simple. He'd seen her kill, and he knew he had to strike without hesitation if he hoped to live.

    The Force lent speed to his motions, and he crossed the distance between them as she was still rebounding from the wall. His own lightsaber ignited an actinic blade as he swept it up. "I trusted you!" he cried, agony in his voice as he slashed downwards. "I looked for you!"
     
    “Scarlet.”

    The name stung as he spoke it, echoing the way Linora had reinforced the assassin identity with unending terror and suffering. She froze, briefly incapacitated by memories of agony, long enough for him to push her back into the hallway wall. The unexpected impact drew a pained cry from her lips, mingling with confusion of why he was attacking her. Looking into his eyes for answers, she found only bitter pain. She was just able to bring up her lightsaber to defend herself, straining against her leg threatening to go out underneath her again.

    “I trusted you! I looked for you!” He screamed in her face.

    “You looked for me?” She managed, finding that core of despair to draw renewed strength from. “When? Where?” She lashed back at him, forcing him back with the fury of her strikes. “Did you think to check if Linora took me back to Mustafar? You know, that place where we met?”

    “What is it, Quentin? Couldn’t be bothered to confirm my death? Must be easy for you. Just write me off as dead to assuage your guilt in giving up on me.” The pain in her leg was distant now, fueling her as she drove him back, until he was pushed against the wall. He moved to strike back, and she moved to parry, only for him to feint, knocking her off balance. He stood over her, the blue light of his blade filling the halls, distorting his features until they were monstrous. She kicked at his knee before he could bring his weapon down, dragging him down to the floor with her. Screaming as the gash in her thigh pulled, she crawled over him, punching him in the gut, again and again.

    “I betrayed her for you, and you left me to rot. I choose you over her, and how do you think she repaid me?” She screamed, feeling every violation on her skin all at once. Hammering it into him, fists connecting with his ribs. “You told me you loved me! That you needed me! Yet you abandoned me, you sanctimonious Jedi fuck!”

    He deflected her punch, sending her off balance, enough that she fell against the wall. “Again…” she gasped, sitting up as he got to his feet, watching the lightsaber fly to his hand. Her thigh was soaking with her blood now, and she wasn’t sure she could stand again. “I betrayed her. I couldn’t kill you, so they sent assassins after us…”
     
    Quentin screamed in pain as her heel slammed into his knee, and the only thing that saved it from breaking was crashing heavily to the ground. Even with that the joint felt lime it was aflame. Before he could recover she was on him, her fists hammering into his gut and chest with Force-augmented strength as she hurled accusations of her own at him. With an effort he batted her fist aside and slammed her into a wall with his shoulder, using the twist to bring him to his feet.

    "Is that what you tell yourself?" he demanded, calling his lightsaver to his hand once more. His knee throbbed, and the stabbibg pain in his ribs made it hard to catch his breath. "Are those the lies you told yourself, to justify embracing that bitch?"

    He staggered a little as he ignited his saber, catching himself on the wall as his knee rebelled. "I tore Mustafar apart! By the time I keft, there was no Black Sun presence!" He gritted his teeth as the shiut made cracked ribs grind together.

    "Grab your saber," he snarled, gesturing at the fallen weapon. "Have the guts to try and kill me to my face."

    He glared at her, ignoring pain that ran deeper than his injuries, waiting for her. Then he shivered. A cold, cloying presence filled the air as a slow, sardonic clap echoed down the hall. "Oh, bravo. Bravo."

    Quentin loomed. At the far end stood a slender man, dressed all in black with a spray of pearly-grey lace at wrist and throat. A black velvet cloak hung from his shoulders, and his long hair was so blond it was nearly white. "I do so love a well-performed tragedy."

    "Who are you?" Quentin asked, shifting to defend himself from both Scarlet and the newcomer.

    "I?" The newcomer offered a half bow. "I am the Baronet Aldane ha-Florindel Sergovia Organa-Nahal, and I have the honor of being your executioner." He smiled warmly. "I would have preferred to meet you in better health, but I fear my Master was most insistent that you die."

    With a flamboyant gesture he drew a jeweled hilt with a filigree silver guard and offered a wry salute. "Will you amuse me first, Jedi? Or your lady? Or shall we engage in a menage a trois?" He smiled at his little joke, and with a gentle hum a meter-long crimson blade appeared. "Come. Let us play."
     
    She looked up at him, calling her saber to her hand. He didn’t believe her. Or he really didn’t care, as Linora had tried convincing her all that time. Killing him wouldn’t be enough to prevent Linora from punishing her again, but with him dead, Linora might go a bit easier on her. It was the only choice she had now.

    So she pushed herself on her feet, noting that he was having as much troubles in that regard himself. It would be over quick, one way to the other. And yet, behind him and down the hall, there stood another man, playing voyeur to their fight. Applauding them, in a way that was anything but reassuring.

    So she and Quentin turned their attention to the newcomer at the same time, as he gave his absurdly long name. And Scarlet thought she had a lot of names. Still, despite his attempts to joke, she could tell by his stance, and the murkiness seeping from his form. In good condition he still would have been a challenge for either of them, but worn and injured from fighting off assassins and each other? Their only hope was to work together.

    Quentin thrusted first, deflected and pushed back. She followed up with an overhead strike, which he blocked, and spun away from. Two quick lunges from Quentin were turned back with a flick of Aldane’s wrist, with the baronet’s free hand jetting forward to grab Quentin’s wrist. Controlling the Jedi’s movements, Aldane slammed the butt of his saber into Quentin’s forehead, before kicking him to the ground. Spinning, he met her slash with his own, pushing her away with a hand on her shoulder. Aldane just brought his blade up to block Quentin, once more grasping his wrist, pulling him forward to meet Aldane’s knee, as he brought it into Quentin’s stomach.

    Aldane turned towards her, a swift lunge she was just able to sidestep. Pulling a page from his book, she grabbed his arm as it moved towards her, spinning him against the wall. Aldane retaliated by grabbing her free wrist, twisting hard hard she dropped her saber. He spun around behind her, the heat of his weapon nearly touching her throat.

    “Oh dear, what have I done? Now you just have to thrust through her to get to me, eliminating both of your problems at once. She is going to die regardless, Jedi. You can live if you strike the killing blow.” He smirked, singing her skin with his blade until she screamed.
     
    Dizzy from the impact, Quentin groped for his lightsaber. He'd been wrong, he realized dully. Scarlet - Kaydia - hadn't sent them. If she hzd, this Sith wouldn't be trying to kill them both. Or... would he? Perhaps she had just failed, and he was cleaning up? But then, why would she try to protect him? Why not just run, while the Baronet was busy?

    His head cleared as he found his weapon, leaving only a dull ache behind. Dragging himself to his feet, he ignited his saber and then froze. The assassin had Kaydia's arm in a lock, blade at her throat. He ignored the man's taunts, tried to ignore the stink of scorched flesh and the sound of her screams, and concentrated.

    "Why do you hesitate?" the Baronet laughed. "It should be a simple equation, for a Jedi."

    Calming his breathing, Quentin stretched out his perceptions in the Force. Subtelty was needed here, not brute strength.

    "A burnt-out junkie whore, and a murderer besides, for the good of the galaxy?"

    His awareness sank into the Sith warrior's weapon, tracing the unfamiliar power systems.

    "Or... do you have feelings for her?" The Baronet laughed in a parody of scandalized shock. "I assure you I have as well. Upon several occasions." His lips traced Kaydia's ear as he reached out with the Force to trigger the SIN for just an instant. "She screamed for me then, too."

    There. He found what he was looming for.

    "Bah. A coward. You Jedi have never-WHAT?"

    Calling on the Force, Quentin disconnected the power coupling. Instantly, the Baronet's lightsaber deactivated. Jedi reflexes drove his blade over Kaydia's shoulder, sending the Baronet recoiling backwards in a gracefull scramble that barely saved his life. "Can you walk?" Quentin asked, catching Kaydia as she stumbled forward on her wounded leg.

    There was a snap-hiss. He looked up to see the Baroner holding a second, shorter-bladed lightsaber in his left hand. "Oh, very well played. I feared you would bore me."

    "More importantly," Quentin murmured, "can you run?"
     
    She recoiled at his distressingly familiar presence in her mind, activating the SIN and her memories. The rapes and beating had been so frequent that after awhile, each one bleed into the others. It was impossible to recall a single act among the multitude committed against her. But his man she remembered, suddenly and violently. A man who hadn’t been satisfied merely violating the integrity of her body, who pushed into her mind, until every inch of her body and mind yielded to his desires.

    She wished Quentin would end it now. So she could be done with the pain, with the memories. Aldane was right, she wasn’t worth anything, but Quentin was. She met Quentin’s eyes, one last time, with understanding for what he needed to do.

    Instead the blade was no longer burning her skin, Aldane’s body was no long pressed against hers, and she was no longer upright. Falling to one knee as Quentin caught her, asking if she could walked. She just nodded, still confused as why she wasn’t dead yet. He helped her up to her feet as the Baronet recovered, taunting them further.

    "More importantly, can you run?”

    There was understanding in his words, a brief image of a plan. “Yes,” she answered, focusing her body to block out the sensations of pain. It was risky, for without that feedback, there was no way to know how much damage she was doing to herself. But now, she just needed to get away. Needed to get to his speeder, seeing it in her mind. “Don’t die,” She ordered, pushing forward with all her strength.

    She threw herself down the stairs, entire flights at a time, leaving bloody footprints in her awake. The underground parking garage was mostly empty this evening, which was fortunate given how she was covered in blood. She found his speeder, sliding into the driver seat and starting the ignition in one motion. Recklessly, she maneuvered the vehicle, circling and ascending the building, until she reached the 10th floor window. All that was left from for Quentin to join her
     
    Kaydia hurled herself down the stairs, her final words echoing behind her. Quentin didn't reply. Instead he lunged forward with his saber, grunting a little as it was intercepted by the crimson shoto. "Dear me," the Baronet smiled, "have I touched a nerve? Could it be..." He spun, knocking Quentin's blade out of true and slashing forward. "Do you have feelings for her?"

    "Shut. Up." Already he was feeling the strain. Quentin knew he was skilled with a lightsaber, but like most Jedi he wasn't accustomed to actual saber duels with enemies. Non-Jedi used them, from time to time, but they were a rarity outside the Order.

    "Oh, you do!" Delight filled the Baronet's voice and expression. "Why, this is remarkable! A Jedi, and a whore!"

    For an instant rage clouded Quentin's thoughts. "She's not a whire!" he belliwed, hammering at the Sith with his saber.

    "My apologies," the Baronet mocked, easily parrying the wild, heavy blows. "Courtesan, then? Escort? What should I call her?"

    "Nothing!" Quentin snapped, chopping with two-handed blows. "You don't-"

    "Because I certainly paid enough to have her," the Baronet continued, taunting. "And she was worth every dactare." He continued to parry, moving slowly in a circle as he did. "Tell me, as one man if the galaxy to another, did she let you burn her? Because she would beg me, and with a single touch if the blade it was as if I'd mounted a wild animal."

    Face contorted with rage, Quentin forced himself to draw back. The Sith was goading him, luring him deeper into the darkness. Further from his training, and deeper into the web of a Sith's power. Shuddering, he drew a deep breath and sought control.

    "Oh, and the needles!" The Baronet laughed. "She craved the feeling of the needles as foreplay. And as an adjunct to orgasm!"

    He let the words flow through him. There is emotion, he remembered, yet there is peace. A Jedi is not ruled by his emotions.

    "And once - as a special treat for me - she serviced a bantha!" He laughed at that. "I rarely feel inadequate, but that.. wait!"

    Spinning, Quentin ran the length if the hall. He could hear the Sith pursuing, and shut it out. Either he would make it or he wouldn't. Try not. Do, or do not. Then the window was before him, exploding into the night sky as he reached out with the Force. He followed the glass shards an instant later, hurling himself from the 22nd floor of the hotel.



    The Baronet watched the Jedi twist in midair, and land gracefully in a speeder that rise to meet him. No need to ask who was driving it, of course. It would be the doubly-treacherous assassin Scarlet. He could have made the leap as well, of course, and slaughtered them. But where would be the style in that?

    Smiling faintly, he lifted his lightdagger in a salute and extinguished the blade. "At last," he whispered, "a worthy challenge."
     
    Quentin hardly had a chance to sit before she pulled the speeder out, hurdling in no direction in particular, just away.

    “Where am I going?” She asked, once they were far enough away she was pretty sure Aldane couldn’t reach them, “Where is the Scrapper?” She took a minute to center her breathing as Quentin gave her directions. Took a second to focus on the now, lest she be consumed by the then. She flew them towards their destination, quickly, but mindful of traffic laws.

    After a few moments of silence, she found her voice, needing conversation to push back the pain. “You…You looked for me?” she asked, stealing a quick glance at him. His answer warred with the months of taunting and assurance from Linora, but she wanted to believe him, needed to believe him. Needed to believe that everything LInora had drilled into her mind was a lie.

    “Truthfully, I don’t even know where Linora took me. I was drugged for most of it and not exactly let out...” She started, feeling the deluge of horrific memories threaten to drown her. “I thought it was Mustafar, or maybe she just made me believe that. Made me believe she was keeping me where you could easily find me, but choose not to…”

    “I wanted to reach for you. But…I couldn’t. I couldn’t because it took every ounce of willpower to keep her out. Every ounce and still…it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t keep her out forever, and by that point, well, I believed that you wouldn’t care. That you never cared.” She had reached the spaceport there, parked outside the Scrapper. It wasn’t time to stop or rest, but she couldn’t help it then. Pain came up as sobbing wails, and she craved a dose of Inertia as much as she craved his touch.
     
    Quentin crashed into the seat of the speeder, drawing upon the Force to cushion the impact. As Kaydia shoved the accelerator forward he glanced upwarcs, expecting the Sith to descend like a cloaked figure of death. But there was nothing, no sign of the man. He allowed himself to relax, fractionally, drawing a deep breath and then gritting his teeth against the pain of his cracked ribs. "The Scrapper? Main starport, bay 3378." He hesitated. "Should be, any way. Harlan Kwan-Don came here with the Finance Ministry delegation, so I'm hoping the ship was delivered correctly."

    He let her talk as she flew, watching with eyes and with more acute senses forsigns of pursuit. There were none, none that he could perceive at least, and they made good time. Soon enough, they were parked outside the fusionformed walls of bay 3378. Which is when Kaydia's resolve finally broke. She gripped her wounded leg and made a low, animal sound of pain.

    "Hang on," Quentin told her, lifting herinto his arms. "Almost there." He carried her into the bay and across to the familiar bulk of his ship, lending her some of his own strength through the Force. The taste of her burning leg and aching need for Inertia mingled with his own grating rib to make each step agony, and it was a glorious relief to finally lay her down on the bunk in his spartan quarters.

    "This'll help," he assured her, grabbing a medkit and injecting a quick hit of broad-spectrum antibiotic and local anaesthetic into her calf. Then, carefully, he cut away the blood-soaked cloth from around the wound. "I've got a bacta wrap that'll start you healing nicely. And... thank you."

    There was pain and shame in his gaze, and he quickly turned his attention back to her injury. "I should have trusted you, Kaydia. I'm sorry."
     
    “Don't,” She argued as his hands came around to lift her up, “You shouldn't push yourself, I nearly shattered your knee.” But even as she protested, her arms went around his neck, and her head against his chest. It was the fantasy that had haunted her all though months as she sought escape from bondage. Quentin, carrying her to safety, so no one could hurt her again. For a moment she was terrified that she was just imagining this, just dreaming. That she would come to back in that room, a new round of violation fresh on her skin.

    But there was pain, and that was a good thing. Not usually, despite what the Baronet tried to make her believe about herself whenever he visited. But there was pain in her leg, and on her neck, and pain was incompatible with the fantasies, or dreams. The pain let her known this was real, that Quentin was here for her, now. So she focused on the real, the feel of his heart pounding in his chest, the slight stumble in his gait as he carried her through the ship, his labored breathing. Quentin was real, and she was safe.

    He brought her to the crew quarters, and tended to her wounds. She winced for only a moment as he applied the bacta to her burn along her neck and against the laceration on her thigh. Almost immediately, she could feel the gel rejuvenating her injuries, and she sighed in long overdue relief.

    “Quentin,” she called, tugging his shirt before he could move to leave. Sitting up, she pulled him over her, kissing him with desperate need. They survived, somehow, and that fact felt worthy of celebration. Not that there was much they could do in their current conditions, besides kiss, so she took that kiss for all it was worth. “I need you,” she exhaled, still clinging to him. But she needed to rest, they both needed to rest after the fights and their injuries. Still, she brushed her lips against his again, trembling as she opened her mouth to his tongue. “I need you.”



    She must have fallen asleep for a couple hours, while the bacta worked on her. She could feel the gentle propulsion of the ship moving, and figured he must have them on route to their destination, wherever that was. So she got up, finding that only a dull ache remained in her leg, a dull ache that would be completely absent by after a full night's rest. Stripping her ruined garment from her skin, she cleaned herself of the remaining bacta and caked on blood. She examined herself in the mirror, finding the bacta had prevent the burn on her neck from leaving a nasty scar. It was there, but only noticeable if you knew what you are looking for. A thought that soured her a bit, as she recalled the similar “barely there” burn marks on her thighs and ass and back. Linora didn't want her permanently disfigured after all.

    Her fingers traced the darker mark on her thigh, the wound too severe to leave her without a blemish in its memory. At least it healed, and walking or running were no longer an issue. She looked over the bloody mess that was the dress she wore, and shook her head. Ruined, not worth trying to get the blood out of it. As she tossed it, she realized her only remaining possession was her lightsaber, and the holodisk she retrieved from Zerk, a thought that made the prospect of freedom bitter-sweet.

    Either way, she didn't want to be alone with her thoughts any longer, so she wandered the ship in search of something she could wear. She found a closet of his things, and settled on a white button up, letting the fabric hang loosely off her form. Pants probably would be a good idea, but she couldn't help but think they would get in the way what she needed now. Quentin.

    So, clad in his shirt and nothing else, she moved about the ship, looking for him, checking the cockpit first.
     
    "I need you," Kaydis had demanded, dragging him down and kissing him with an intense hunver. And he'd returned that hunger, kissing her back with a desperate intensity fuelled by the fights and the escape and the discovery that she was alive when he'd given her up for dead. When the kiss finally broke, a mutual decision driven only by their desperate need to bresthe, he lingered above her face and planted feathery kisses.

    "I need you, too," he whispered, love and longing in his voice. "But you need rest." It didn't stop him from kissing her again, didn't stop his tongue from parting her lips or his hands from carefully exploring her body. He gasped as he broke the kiss, and it was an act of will to draw back and sit. But he did it, and he sat and held her hand and talked gently of inconsequential things until she finally fell asleep. And then he held her hand a while longer, content to watch her breathe and lend her his strength until ber thoughts settled and nascient nightmares faded into restful slumber. Only then, reluctantly, did he rise.

    His first stop was the little galley, where he poured himself a large glass of water and heated a protein-heavy meal pack. Carrying the food and a data slate, he moved into the cockpit, settling down in the pilot's seat and getting to work. The events of the past few hours certainly proved he was on the right track with his investigations, but he was no closer to finding the center of this cinspiracy. This "Baronet Aldane" was another Darth Maul. An agent. A killer, yes, and skilled in the Dark Side. But not the Sith Lord at the center of the web.

    Hours passed as he wrote up what he'd learned and what he theorized. Finally, encrypting what he had, he transmitted his files hidden in a mundane-looking message. It would take a circituous route through the holonet before arriving in a data archive at the Jedi Temples on Coruscant and Dantooine and Apasia, where another Shadow would recover them in good time. Then he stared through the canopy at the blast walls of the bay, and meditated.

    The emotions disturbed him before the footsteps did. Lust. Love. Longing. Need. Followed by currents of displaced air and the soft padding of bare feet on the deck. Not a stealthy walk, precisely. Just the habit of one accustomed to moving quietly. He turned to find Kaydia in the entrance, wearing one of his white shirts like a scandalously short dress.

    He reached out, catching her wrists and pulling her down into the acceleration chair with him. His hands fisted in her hair as he kissed her, then explored her back as he deepened the kiss. "I need you," he groaned, nipping at her throat and kissing her again. On hand cupped her bare ass, pressing her against his rock-hard length as the other tangled in her hair once more. "Now."
     
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