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Jedi X Family (The Corsair and Xana)

“Oh, I’m gong to,” he assured her, shifting a little to let the steaming water wash the suds away. He claimed a kiss, deep and lingering, hungrily dueling her tongue with his as his hands slipped over her curves to rest on her hips. “Long and slow and deep.”

Without warning he stepped back slightly and spun her around. Then he stepped back in, his hands gripping hers, pinning them to the slick tile wall. His chest slid against her back, and he shifted his hips slightly to nestle his stiffening cock in the cleft of her ass. “But I’m not done yet,” he whispered before sucking a droplet of water from her earlobe. “I owe you a shower, remember?”

He dispensed more gel into one hand, spreading it across her shoulders and working it into a lather on her skin. He leaned into her, moving his broad chest over her back, letting the suds and water lubricate their skin. His cock, fully at attention, slid between her cheeks as he pressed his hips against her.

His left hand kept her left arm pinned to the wall. His right slid between her body and the tile, cupping a breast and squeezing before working up to lightly grip her throat. “I’m still supposed to fuck you without mercy,” he growled, biting her earlobe. “Over and over again.”

He rolled his hips, letting her feel his cock moving against her. “I’m going to fuck this tight ass of yours,” he growled. His hand tightened on her throat. “You’re going to beg me to fuck your ass, and you’re going to cum from me fucking your ass.” His teeth moved to her shoulder, scraping over her skin. “And then I’m going to us your tight cunt as my personal fuck toy.”

He shifted his hips again, pressing the velvety head of his cock against the tight ring of her sphincter. Then he pushed, tightening his hand in her throat to stifle her cry as the muscle opened around him. His invasion was slow, methodical, giving her just enough time to adjust before he pushed deeper. Her every sound was muffled by his hand on her throat, allowing only faint gasps to mingle with her groans.

“Now,” he growled, when his hips and abdomen were pressed tight against the curve of her ass. “Beg me to pound your asshole. And keep begging until you cum.”
 
Shadi loved it, all of it. His grip on her throat and his teeth digging into her shoulder. The demanding pressure of his cock, claiming her inch by exquisite inch. The heat of his chest against her back, somehow hotter than the streaming shower

"Fuck me," she breathed, hardly audible over the running water, with his grip on her throat. "Please… fuck me!" Each thrust drove the thoughts and qualms from her mind. All she needed was the relentless pressure of his strokes, and the hungry demand in his voice. "Use me… use all of me…"

Just a little, she struggled against him. Not enough to actually break free, or to even signal distress, but enough to make him grip her tighter, to strain her breathing to a desperate gasps. To force him to fuck her even harder, their wet bodies slapping together with increasing momentum. To make him bite her, as if to hold her in place like a predator pouncing upon his prey.

"Use me!" she cried out, straining against his grip to make her voice echo in the tight confines of the bathroom. Tension built within her, and she chased that tension as far as he let her, writhing and whimpering. "Please don't stop fucking me…"
 
Please don’t stop fucking me…

Now there was a thought. A delicious thought. But also a thought that was much a fantasy as the fiction of his identity. It nagged at him all the same. To wake up next to her, to have her again tomorrow and…

Harlan pushed the thought aside, tried to drown it in the dopamine rush of skin on skin. Tried to let the glorious sound of her mounting pleasure wash away the nagging thought. But it was stubborn, as stubborn as the rest of him.

“Stop?” he growled, not saying what he wanted to say. “I’ve just gotten started.” He rocked his hips, hard enough to drive her onto tiptoes for a moment, and his right hand tightened on her throat as he did.

His left hand slipped down her arm, over her shoulder, to her left breast. Fingers pinched the swollen nipple in time with his thrusts, then slipped down her ribs and over her taught stomach. “Fucking cum,” he growled, shifting his body so he could cup her smooth mound. So he could open her with two fingers, and tease her clit with a third.

Another thrust, and his finger plunged into her depths as his cock drove into her ass. His teeth scraped the nape of her neck, then bit hard enough to bruise. “Cum,” he growled around her flesh, fuckng her with fingers and cock. His teeth but harder, and he tasted a faint iron-copper flavor.

“Cum for me,” he demanded, lips tinted crimson as a tiny trickle of blood ran down her spine. He drove her into the wall with his body, tightening and relaxing his hand on her throat. “Cum!”
 
Shadi couldn't be certain what sent her over the edge –the dueling pressure in her cunt and ass, the possessive grip on her throat, or his teeth piercing her skin. Maybe it was all of it, overwhelming her senses in a glorious delirium.

Or maybe it was him. Harlan, or whatever his real name was. Her body craved his, responded to his, obeyed his. Every thrust and stroke and squeeze prolonged her exquisite torment. It was more than sex, though. More than the physical. He excited her, challenged her, inspired her and complemented her. It was everything she had searched for in a needleful of Inertia.

Words didn't matter, now. Tomorrow didn't matter. Her mission didn't matter. Names didn't matter. All that mattered was this moment, this joining of bodies, this euphoria and completion and connection. Her animal cries of ecstasy filled the bathroom, filled her mind just as he filled her.

Now the only she craved as deeply as her own climax, was his.
 
Harlan held on to her, riding her body through her pleasure until she sagged gasping against the wall of the fresher unit. Then he dragged his cock from her ass, taking it slow so she could feel every inch as it slowly slipped from her. “Good,” he husked into her ear as he dispensed more cleaning gel. “So fucking good.”

He lathered his cock, working to get it clean. Slowly, so she could feel his hand working up and down his shaft. “So fucking hot, feeling you cum with my dick in your ass.” His lips caressed the bite mark on the nape of her neck. “And you tasted good.”

At his signal the fresher changed modes, bathing them both in ultrasonics and warm air. Water steamed up from slick skin, leaving them smooth and dry. With a cocky grin he scooped her up in his arms once more, carrying her out of the fresher and back into the room.

“I’m not quite done, though,” he told her as he laid her across the bed. It creaked a little as he climbed in after her, straddling her with arms and legs braced. Dipping his head he claimed a long, leisurely kiss. As his tongue explored hers his weight shifted, freeing his right hand to trace the contours of her body beneath his. “See, I’m still rock hard.”

His hand gripped his erection, pressing his head against her clit. “I know I could have cum in your ass.” Slowly, deliberately, he began to fist fuck himself against her, moving his head up and down her lips as he did. “You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you? Feeling this thick dick pumping cum into your ass?”

His tongue parted her lips again, probing deeply. “But I want you to watch me cum.” His hand in his shaft moved faster,coating his head in her juices. “Tell me you want me in you. Tell me you want me fucking my cum into your tight wet cunt.”
 
And you tasted good.

It was a good thing she had her back to him, because his words made her blush. No, no, surely it was just the afterglow of her orgasm and the heat of the shower? Shdi could almost believe herself, until he again lifted her into his arms. He treated her like a lover, not a merely fling. And she relished in his attention, nuzzling his throat with her nose as he carried her.

He laid her down, and she just melted into the mattress, sinking into sweet serenity. Between the body wracking orgasm, and the soothing heat of their shower together, her every muscle relaxed, supple and yielding. All that remained was a pleasant, yearning ache between her thighs. Hair fanned out beneath her, skin flushed pink in the afterglow of passion and the anticipation of rapture. She reached up to caress his arms and shoulders, and pull him even closer as they kissed.

"I want you…" she murmured in between kisses. A confession, beyond the dirty talk. She pulled him into the kiss this time, hungry for his taste and his moans. Her legs brushed against his, her feet trailing over his thighs, resisting the demanding urge to pull him inside her. "I want you inside me. I want you inside me when you cum."
 
Harlan let himself sink into her, slowly opening and filling her until he was stepped by his own hand gripping his shaft. Ignoring his impulse to just fuck her hard, he met her eyes and gave her a half smile. Then he caught her lips, working his tongue into her mouth as he slowly pumped his cock with his fist. “That’s what I wanted to hear,” he husked, shuddering as her heels slid over his thighs.

Releasing his grip on his shaft, still only half-buried in her, he brought his fingers to her lips and slowly coated them with her juices. Then he issued her again, savoring her flavor and groaning into the heat of her mouth as he slowly rolled his hips to sink deeper into her. The feel of her inner walls gripping his full length drew a hoarse gasp from him.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned as he began moving inside her. “I want you.” Was that just a statement born of lust? It had to be. He wasn’t allowed more, no matter how much he might want it. His left arm pushed beneath her back and his right hand slid down her body to cup her rear, pulling her tight and giving him more leverage.

She was intoxicating. All of her. The feel of her thighs flexing to draw him to her with each thrust. The way her arms and hands slid over his back, claiming and encouraging him. Her gasps and moans, and the salt taste of her skin as he explored her throat and mouth with lips and tongue.

“I’m close.” The two words forced themselves from lips locked in the effort to hold back. To draw out the pleasure. “I… I’m close…”. Unbidden his rhythm changed, becoming more forceful and urgent as pleasure built. His breathing deepened, escaping in gasping bursts in time with his thrusts. “Close…” he gasped.

Orgasm erupted with a startled shout, his whole body arching to bury his shaft as deep in her as possible. His mouth covered hers, open and forceful, tongue plunging deep as his hips bucked uncontrollably and e pumped stream after thick stream of cum into her eager body.

Finally, spent and sated, he slumped into her warmth. He sighed contentedly, then kissed her slowly as a final spurt of his cum flowed out of him. “Would, uh…”. He hesitated. “Would you like to, uhm, stay the night?”
 
"I, uh, have an early spaceflight out, tomorrow" Shadi explained, not hiding the regret in her voice. Still she managed a smile as she looked up into his piercing blue eyes, "But it would be nice to catch a quick nap before then." Another kiss as their bodies moved together, allowing her to get out from underneath, and for him to lay down before she slipped out of bed. "Give me a quick moment to fresh up first, okay?"

Carefully, she padded towards the bathroom, and closed the door behind her. She still had a job to complete here, even if her handsome cover story nearly distracted her from it. So she focused, sinking deep in the force to locate her target, and the slow rhythm of his heart. She slowed it further, constricting his vessels and squeezing the muscles until it gave out, and his life faded out. Fiery red eyes met her gaze in the reflection of the mirror, a testament to the life she'd lived for over a decade. This time, however, it didn't take Inertia to bring her back to balance, but a little bit of memory, reliving her time in this shower just an hour ago.

She retreated from the bathroom with a smile and soft green eyes, and most importantly, cold water from the dispenser in the room. "You've certainly earned this drink." She handed him the glass, and took her place beside him on the bed. It was a tight fit, with both of them on the bed, but somehow, that made it even better. Because she had to rest her head on his firm chest, and he had to wrap his arm around her shoulder, and they had to tangle their legs together. Laying in his arms brought such peace that she was asleep by the second blink.

Few hours later she awoke, the Ondolurrum sky still dark and cloudy. Her transport off world was leaving in an hour. And still, there was no urgency in her movements, no desire to get out of bed. Her bed mate was warm, and his arms wrapped around her appealed far more than the cold embrace of straps on a starship.

For a moment, she considered how she could convince him to take her with him, where ever he might go next. Hell, it probably wouldn't take much more than another round of head to get him to spill his real name. With a soft giggle to herself, she lingered in the fantasy imagining what sort of daring adventure they might get into together, before sighing in disappointment and disentangling from his arms. She left him with a last kiss, before she began quietly gathering her clothes together.

One last mischievous thought tempted her, and this time, she didn't resist, finding a loose scrap of paper in his room and scribbling a half considered missive. Come find me on Mustafar. It wasn't likely he could, but it let her fantasy live a little longer, become a comforting daydream in her future lonely days. Added incentive, she balled up her panties, still scented with their joining, and slipped them and the note into his jacket pocket.

Then, without looking back, she left.
 
He woke to the feeling of Shadi carefully disentangling herself from their embrace, and listened as she dressed herself. Stay with me. It was a delightful fantasy, but that’s all it was. All it ever could be. So he listened to her leave, and tried to tell himself it was for the best.

He didn’t believe a word of it. But the le made it easier to finally get out of bed without resenting his life and the path he’d chosen. Made to easier to focus on his current mission. So he showered and dressed, trying to ignore the way that water and cloth lightly irritated the scratches on his back.

Then he found the panties. And the note. Come find me on Mustafar.

After a moment, unsure of how to release his emotions, he laughed. “All right. I think I will.”

-*-

Seven years later.
19 BBY
Coruscant

Quentin Hall sipped his klava and kept his face carefully neutral as Coruscant Security passed the street vendor, flanked by four Clone Troopers. They weren’t his commando squad, though, so they wouldn’t have any idea who he was. But they were fully armed and eyeing everybody. Clearly, they were hunting someone.

Deliberately walking away, he glanced at the scrolling holographic news feed that illuminated the walkways. The headlines were a mixture of grim and good news. “Jedi Council Attempts Coup!” “Battle At Temple!” “Loyalist General Skywalker Crushes Separatist Command!” Clearly, things had gone from bad to worse since Order 66 had been issued. Especially since the general public, on Coruscant at least, seemed to believe the anti-Jedi propaganda.

Counting off alleys, he turned right at the fifth one and looked for the marks. An ancient code, once used by vagabonds and itinerants and repurposed for communication among the Shadows. Danger. Safety. Things like that. The symbols he follows were daubed around waist height, and easy to dismiss as random scratches and smears if you didn’t know what they were.

He followed them deeper into the maze of suspended walkways and bridges that formed the mid-levels of the district until he heard the challenge. A low voice calling out “where do you stand?”

“Between the light and the darkness beyond,” he replied. “And surely you recognize me?”

“Can’t be too careful, my son.” There was motion to his right. “Follow me. Quickly.”

Quentin followed, ducking low to pass through a concealed door. It locked behind him, as did another a few meters on when he stepped into a small room lit by a dim, flickering tube.

“Have a seat,” Valis Korrin said, gesturing at the floor. “We have much to talk about.”

Selecting a threadbare cushion, Quentin lowered himself to the ground. “I’ll say. Everything is going to hell..,”

“Yes,” the pale alien replied, sounding exhausted. For the first time, Quentin noticed the bandage wrapped around the frilled head and the way his master favored his right leg as he carefully took a seat. “Starting with how you need to find a way to get someone off world.”

“Who?”

Valis tugged gently at a blanked-wrapped figure, revealing the head and face of a young girl with touseled red hair. “This youngling.”

“Who is she?” Quentin asked.

“The only child I was able to save from Skywalker.”
 
It was supposed to be a simple mission. Scarlet never could have predicted that the Black Sun would set her up to be captured by storm troopers, would trade her years of service for an Imperial bounty. Now she was ankle deep in clone corpses, and if she didn't move quickly, inquisitors would be on their way. Fucking cowards had set her up. After everything she'd done in their name, and everything she'd given up…

With a deep breath, Scarlet forced herself to calm down. Anger would cloud her focus, and she needed all she could muster to cloak herself in the force. Once she was off planet, she could begin planning her vengeance on those bastards. Not an easy task, however, with her credit accounts frozen and her Black Sun connections already off planet.



Mara scooted down the bed, to sit beside, and slightly behind, Master Valis. She wasn't scared of the newcomer, but she wasn't sure about him either. He seemed nice enough, if sorta old, but inexplicably human. Sitting up on her knees, she whispered in Master Valis's ear, "I thought you said he was your son."

Master Valis chuckled, and patted her on the back, "My padawan-son, child." Mara nodded, that made more sense. "This is Quentin. Quentin, this is Mara Jade."

Hesitantly, she waved at Quentin, "Hi."

"Do you remember how I said that sometimes Jedi's have to pretend?" Mara nodded, and Master Valis continued, "Quentin is going to pretend to be your father, okay?"

Mara chewed at her lip. She'd never had a father before. Records said she'd been born on orphan on Ando prime, but she only remembered life at the temple. "Can't… Can't you pretend to be my father?"

A fond smile curled over his lipless mouth, "I would, but Quentin here is much better at pretending than I am."

"He is?"

"He's the best pretender I know."

"Really?"

"Really."


Typically, while she was being hunted down, the last thing Scarlet wanted was to stand out. Today, however, it was her only chance of survival.

They wouldn't be looking for Jedi in a wine bar in the wealthy district. Not that she looked like a Jedi at the moment, in a black crisscross halter dress that revealed copious cleavage. Bouncy crimson curls cascaded down her bare shoulders, leaving her feeling slightly exposed. Usually she was Shadi when trying to seduce a target, but the Imperials knew about all her personas. Besides, the sooner she found a target, the sooner she could get off world, and out of the imperial crosshairs.

Idly, she flicked through a new article on a holopad. Just an excuse to pass the time, until a familiar face popped up under a distressing headline. Jedi Separatist attack Emperor! Clone Troops stand against the religious fundamentalist terrorist. Underneath were a dozen pictures of fallen Jedi, and lists of their so-called crimes. Her eyes fell upon an Iridonian, labelled as a "groomer", and her stomach twisted.

Kazahk didn't deserve this. The gentlest, most patient soul she'd ever known. Even as a padawan, he'd put on story time for the younglings, in the Great Library. Swallowing hard, she choked back her tears. Mourning would have to wait until she got off world. Now, she just needed to attract a rich admirer, and enough funds to get off world. No time to be picky.

And if Imperials did show up here, hopefully they'd be too distracted by her dress to look at her face.
 
He was going to have to find a wife.

Quentin mulled that over. He’d played a lot of roles over the years - every Shadow did the job in their own unique way, but his preference was disguise and misdirection. Playing a role meant fully immersing yourself in the role, if you wanted to live at least. But getting married seemed… wrong?

Letting Mara die was even more wrong, though. Just the two of them travelling together would attract the wrong kind of attention in an environment where the Jedi were already being demonized as “groomers” and “abusers” to turn public sentiment against the survivors. A single man travelling with a single young girl would attract unwanted attention. And no cover identity would survive that attention. So he had to have a wife. Or a husband, although his tastes did run that way. Which would make the cover less convincing.

It would be easier if she were another Jedi. Sadly, as far as Master Valis knew, the two of them were the only free and living Jedi on Coruscant. The 501st had proved to be just as ruthless and efficient as their reputation claimed. Which meant he’d need to find someone else. A Republic officer loyal to the old regime, perhaps, or…

“Master Quentin?”

He looked up. Mara had climbed into the chair opposite him in the little apartment/safe house they were using, and was staring listlessly at her pancakes. There were dark circles under her eyes, he noticed. “Are you all right?” he asked, biting back the urge to remind her to call him ‘dad’ even in private. “You look tired.”

“I had bad dreams.” She picked at the food. “And it was too quiet.”

That made sense. Students her age slept dormitory style, right to a room. Last night would have been her first night alone in, well, ever. “What kind of dreams?” he asked.

“Master… Master… Skywalker…”. Her voice stumbled, and she scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “There was shooting, and screaming, and Master Skywalker found us, and he… and he…”. Her voice cracked, and she made small hiccuping sounds that turned into sobs. “He… he… my… my friends… he…”

Quentin’s half-vaulted the table as he gathered the girl into his arms. Her body wracked with sobs as her control broke. “He… he…” she screamed into his chest. “He was a Jedi! We… we… don’t…”

Awkwardly, he held her and stroked her hair and realized that the life of a Shadow had not prepared him for this. Finally, shaking, her terror seemed to subside a little. “Why?”

He considered his answer. “The darkness,” he finally said. “It can lead people to do… bad things. Really bad.”

“What if he finds us?” she whimpered. “He’ll..”

“I’ll stop him.” He wasn’t entirely sure he could, but the words came out confident.

Mara blinked away tears as she looked up at him. “You will? How?”

Quentin gave her a little smile. “I’m a Shadow. It’s what I do. I find people who fall into darkness, and…”

“Kill them?” she asked, sounding like she wasn’t sure how she wanted him to answer.

“If I have to,” he admitted. “But mostly, I try to help them.”

“Even Master Skywalker?”

“Yes,” he agreed. “Even Master Skywalker.”

“I’m scared,” she said after a bit. “I know I’m not supposed to be, but I’m scared.”

“Nothing wrong with fear,” Quentin reassured her. “As long as you don’t let it rule you.” He hesitated, then looked at the terrified girl in his arms. He needed to do something . “Would you like me to teach you? To be a Shadow?”

“Like you?” she asked. “To fight bad Jedi?” He nodded, and she perked up a little. “Yes!”

Technically, he shouldn’t do this. She was seven years old, after all. Much too young to be chosen as an apprentice. However, things were hardly normal right now. So he slid her to her feet, and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Padawan Mara Jade,” he began, remembering what Master Valis had said to him years ago. “The bond between Master and student is an eternal one, a chain linking us back through the ages, Jedi after Jedi and beyond, back to the first living thing to sense the Force and teach her skills to another."

Her eyes went wide as he spoke, and he could feel a sense of pride pushing through her fear. “It is an eternal bond,” he repeated, “one that will never be broken. Will you accept me as your Master, Padawan Mara?”

“Yes,” she said, sounding a little shocked.

“And I will accept you as my student.” He laughed. “And as your master, I insist that you eat your breakfast.”

“And then?” she asked, climbing back into her chair.

“And then you need to go take a nap,” he told her. “You can’t learn when you’re tired.”

-*-

That evening, he went out.

Master Valis had arrived on schedule, to keep a watch over Mara while he was gone. Discretely. The block his cover’s apartment was in had the kind of snobbishness and elitism that you found on display only among the up-and-comers that weren’t truly rich yet. And they had become distressingly human supremist in the years since ‘Quinn Haliman’ had first acquired the property.

He needed to find a wife, and he had no particular idea how to find one. And so he opened himself to the Force, releasing all conscious thoughts and desires and letting it guide his steps.

Right to a small wine bar.

“Really?” he muttered aloud. But he’d been guided here. So he checked his reflection in the window. Grey slacks, double-breasted grey captain’s coat, white tunic shirt. It would have to do.

Drawing a deep breath and releasing it slowly, he walked inside.
 
Scarlet glanced up at the newcomer, quickly appraising him as a potential target. He was handsome enough, but not particularly suitable to her current needs. A wealthier target would be preferable.

The hologram news began then, with a special report on the "Jedi Terrorists" still at large. And there she was, next to an image of a pale, amphibious alien. Scarlet, Jedi Assassin. Extremely dangerous, do not approach. Contact Imperial Security Forces if seen. Reward for information leading to her capture: 500,000 IC. She hadn't been a Jedi for almost 2 decades now, not to mention she'd never progressed past Padawan, but she doubted that those distinctions would matter much to anyone looking to cash in on her reward. Already a few people were eyeing her, trying to figure out if she were the woman in the holofeed.

Shit, she didn't have any time to waste now. Without a second thought, she stood and walked towards the newcomer, smiling as if she knew him. "You're here!" She embraced him for a moment, long enough to whisper in his ear "Play along and I will make it worth your while." Without waiting to see if he would reject her, she hooked her arm with his, and led him towards a booth in the back of the bar.

"Had me worried that you might not show up, but I am glad you're here." She positioned herself so her back was to the wall, giving her a vantage point towards the rest of the bar patrons, and the entrance.

"Kaydia, by the way," she murmured for his ears alone. She wore an inviting smile, while inwardly, she cringed; she hadn't gone by her real name in years, not since she'd been a padawan. But the report had all her aliases listed, and besides, anyone who knew her as Kaydia was dead now. A distressing thought she couldn't focus on now. Instead she leaned in, and trailed a finger down his arm.

"So, it looks like I am at your mercy."
 
“Are you now?” Quentin was a little nonplussed by the whole surreal encounter. He had no idea who this woman was, but it was clear that she was in some kind of trouble. And the other patrons of the bar were eying her - not in the way you would expect them to eye an attractive redhead, but like she was a potential target.

Clearly, she was in trouble. Best to play along.

“Why would you be at my mercy?” he said with a laugh as he reached across the table to take her hand. “I’m the one who kept you waiting. I just couldn’t get away from the office.”

The watchers looked doubtful, now. Time to ramp it up a little, he decided as a waiter approached. “Welcome,” said the tall Xothac, clashing two sets of hands together. “It is my pleasure to serve you.”

He carefully focused his attention on the redhead across the table. She was stunning, but there was an air of familiarity about her. Something he couldn’t place. “It’s our anniversary,” he said. “Our first. And I was late. What would you recommend as an apology?”

“Ah!” The Xothac opened all three eyes wide in empathy. “For that, I recommend the Mentoc xu’Hatha ‘23. It is a red wine with a subtly bittersweet flavor, holding notes of seasoned worshyr, berries, and lilac.” His lipless mouth curved into an approximation of a smile. “An understated yet sophisticated wine.”

“Two glasses,” Quentin told him. He wasn’t really a wine person, but he was in a wine bar.

“An excellent choice,” the waiter declared. “I shall return.”

As the waiter left, Quentin surreptitiously eyed the mirror. Her watchers seemed to be having doubts now. “I really am sorry, dear,” he said, smiling at the redhead. “I just couldn’t wrap up holocall with my last appointment. Did I miss anything?”
 
He was good. His off the cuff performance of a contrite husband was so convincing she nearly believed it. And why did he seem so familiar? Had she accidentally picked up a holovid star? No, no one else seemed to recognize him. It had to be something else. Something about how her heart fluttered as he took her hand.

"I can't stay mad at you," she replied, playing up the role of adoring wife. The other patrons seemed to be believing it, seemed to think her resemblance to a wanted Jedi terrorist was merely a coincidence. But the more she got into her role, the worse she felt about having to complete her task. Unless… maybe he was sympathetic to the Republic, and the Jedi? Maybe he'd be willing to help her, if he thought she were a Jedi running for her life.

"I just couldn't wrap up holocall with my last appointment. Did I miss anything?"

"Oh, nothing really. Just this dreadful business with the Jedi on the holonews. It's so hard to believe everything that's come out, you know?" She watched his expression for hint of his allegiance, but she suspected it would be hard to pin him down, as adept as he'd already proven himself at playing roles.

Before she could try another coded message, the waiter returned with their drinks. As much as she wanted to drink, to calm nerves alight with justified paranoia, she held up her glass. "To us. May our next year be as joyful and as full of adventure as our first." Once they clinked their glasses, she allowed herself a sip. Then, she favored the waiter with a content smile, "Now that is just lovely. Thank you for the recommendation."

"Of course, if you still feel compelled to make up for tonight, we could take that off-world vacation we've been discussing." This time, she grabbed his hand, and squeezed it gently. And truthfully, she wasn't surely if she were still just playing a role. "You work so hard, my love, and you truly deserve some time away from the office."
 
“Yeah,” Quentin responded. “Even with everything they’re saying in the news, I still can’t believe it. They…”

He stopped as the waiter returned, and watched her body language. Her question wasn’t just casual conversation, he was sure if it. She was feeling him out.

Then she was raising her glass in a toast. “To us,” he smiled, then sipped his wine and left the mystery woman to compliment the vintage. As far as he was concerned, wine was wine and none of it was anything special.

"Of course,” she said as if she were just continuing their conversation, “if you still feel compelled to make up for tonight, we could take that off-world vacation we've been discussing."

Definitely feeling me out, he decided as she took his hand. He smiled. The Force works in mysterious ways.

“You work so hard, my love, and you truly deserve some time away from the office."

He sipped his wine again, trying to tell himself he liked it. “That sounds delightful,” he agreed. “I’m afraid it would have to be a working vacation, though.” A chuckle. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. It would be a single delivery to the University of Ar-Jed.” Time to feel her out a little. “Other than that, we could go anywhere you want. I know Mara would be excited.”
 
Oh good, he seemed to understand her meaning. And share her sentiments. Maybe he didn't have to be a target, but an ally. She really could use a few allies about now. Though, it was a shame he hadn't taken her up on her offer for anything he might want. Handsome and charming as he was, it would be quite a delightful price to pay.

"That sounds delightful," he agreed. "I'm afraid it would have to be a working vacation, though." A chuckle. "Oh, don't look at me like that. It would be a single delivery to the University of Ar-Jed."

"Well, I suppose that is the only way we can pull you from work, isn't it? Unless you caught a glimpse of the bathing suit I was planning on packing…" Biting her lip, she allowed herself a moment to imagine him in a bathsuit. Strong, broad chest, dripping with water and glistening under the sun.

"Other than that, we could go anywhere you want. I know Mara would be excited."

Mara. Who was Mara? Opening herself to the force, just a little, she caught the impression of her white knight companion consoling a young girl. His daughter. The realization hit like like a punch to the gut, abating just a little as she put together the pieces.

So that was why he choose husband, to audition me for the role of wife, and mother. It wasn't a role she played before, to her deep regret, but she believed she could pull it off for a short time. Long enough to get to safety off-world, to regroup and plan her next move. "I am hoping this could be a chance for Mara and I to get to know each other better. To bond, just us girls." This was harder to pretend, she realized, the weight of her choices heavy upon her. Another drink of wine gave her a moment to compose herself. Maybe she could even right that mistake, if she could only get off world…

"In any case, you never did tell me where we are going for dinner. I hope we didn't miss our reservation."
 
Whatever trouble this Kaydia was in, it was probably big. Because she was a skilled operator, and skilled operators who got into trouble got in deep. Republic Intelligence, maybe? Or one of the independent outfits? But whoever she was, she was handling the back and forth improvised codes well.

Maybe all of this would work?

“It’s a surprise, Kaydia,” he assured her, draining the last of his wine. Then, thumbing a payment code with a generous tip into the table, he rose and offered her his arm. “I know how much you love them. Did you think I’d forget so soon?”

She accepted his arm, and embellished the illusion of a couple by leaning against him just a little as they walked. By now they were attracting attention again, but the majority of it was jealousy. He waved at the waiter, answering his salutations with an assurance that they would be back, and then escorted Kaydia into the Coruscant evening.

“My name’s Quentin,” he told her softly as they stroked along the skywalk. “Quentin Halland. Hopefully I wasn’t too intrusive back there - you just looked like you needed a little help.” He shrugged. “And, if I understood you back there, you could use some more.”

He stopped and leaned against the railing. The sky above was streaked in magnificent red and purple hues by atmospheric pollution and the setting sun. Around them a galaxy of lights twinkled, soft in the upper reaches and blazing like jewels in the lower levels. “As it happens, I could use a little help myself. See, I’m a gemologist by trade. A broker and dealer in exotic stones - the Khyber and Adrian groups.” He watched her reaction. “Not exclusively dealing to the Temple, but…”

He gestured vaguely. “Right now, I’m not under investigation. But, if I try to leave Coruscant in the current political environment, it would be easy to take me as a Jedi for having those stones. And that would leave my daughter without either of her parents.”

Frowning, he stared down into the abyss. “I… hell. I can’t think of a way to not sound like a some sort of creep with this. But… if, well, if you maybe posed as, uhm, my… wife?” Turning, he raised his hands defensively and struggled not to look guilty. “Nothing untoward, I assure you! But… well, everybody knows Jedi don’t get married, right? So, if you posed as my wife, I could get Mara offworld and somewhere safe. And, uhm, if I understood you back there, you kind of want to get offworld yourself. So we could, you know, help each other?”

He took a deep breath. “Please don’t slap me.”
 
She liked hearing her name come from his lips. It had been so long since she'd heard it, so long since she felt she deserved to hear it. Maybe this was a chance to reinvent herself, to put her past behind her?

Maybe she'd never have to kill again.

She let herself live in that fantasy a moment longer, leaning into her mysterious husband as they left the bar together. As he explained his situation, she wondered how she might explain her own to him. Formerly drug addicted assassin for a crime ring wasn't exactly that sympathetic. She could pretend to have been a Jedi, but it sounded like he worked closely enough with the temple to be able to catch her in that lie.

The mention of making his daughter an orphan was a somber reminder of her own choices, but this time, she felt heartened that she could help prevent that situation, this time. And a renewed determination to rehabilitate herself.

"I worked for the Republic Intelligence Agency, on a long term undercover assignment. I'd been working with a crime syndicate, The Black Sun, seeking evidence of collusion with high level government figure, and we were closing in on our target. But well, with the regime change our target got a major promotion, and he used that to find my identity, and leak it to the Black Sun. They set up an ambush, but haven't gotten word yet that it failed. Hence why I am hoping to get off world before they, or the government official they have on the payroll, figure out I survived."

Then he got to his proposal, which in some senses was an actual proposal. Purely for cover, of course, because they all would be safer as a group. As… a family.

He took a deep breath. "Please don't slap me."

She released a held breath, laughing lightly to release the tension of moment. "I'm not going to slap you. It's a solid plan, one that would help me too, if I am being honest. And besides, I definitely owe you one, and you are choosing not to take advantage of that fact." Not that she would mind much if he took a little advantage. She tried to clear her dirty mind by clearing her throat and leaned against the railing beside him.

"So I'm Kaydia Halland," she said, trying the name on. "That works for me. Alright, then, how old is Mara? I am picturing her still in that cute phase, where it's impossible to say no to her."
 
“Mara is…” Shit. How old was she? “Seven. And I think you’ll like her. She’s clever.” A rueful grin. “Maybe a bit too clever, if you know what I mean. It’s just been the two of us for a few years now. Ever since her mother passed…”

He bit down on the sentence and looked away for a moment, conjuring a memory of grief from his real past to help sell the reaction. Then he sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s been three years, but… it never gets easier.”

Another deep breath, then he squared his shoulders and turned back to Kaydia. “She’s resourceful, bold, stubborn, opinionated, and precocious. If you like all that in a little girl, you’ll get along famously.” He laughed. “Or strangle her. Maybe both.”

-*-

Mara into the box of polychromatic puffed geaibs and ate another sugary handfull. The entire time, she kept her attention riveted on the entertainment being displayed on the holoscreen. One child had just thrown a water-filled balloon at a crèche-mate (sibling, she corrected herself), but had missed and struck the Caretaker (father, she corrected herself). And now he was sputtering and gesticulating wildly.

Much of it didn’t make sense. But she laughed anyway before digging in for more cereal.

“Mara Jade,” remonstrated her minder droid in a high-pitched voice. “You should not be eating cereal like that! Proper…”

“Dad,” she said sternly, quite pleased with herself for not saying Master Quentin, “gave me a mission! An important first mission for my training! I have to study these shows and see how a regular little girl behaves!” She waved a sugar-dusted hand at the display. “And the little shows in the programs are very clear that regular kids eat cereal out of boxes!”

The minder droid was a complex bundle of memory chips and CPU’s and soft actuators, stuffed inside a plush furry case that resembled a four-legged purple starfish. Mara had picked the case herself, and was quite pleased with how soft and cuddly it was. But it nagged. “The ‘little shows’,” it squeaked haughtily, “are commercials. They are designed to persuade you to purchase a product,”.

Mara stuffed some cereal into her mouth. “They are?” she asked, blowing crumbs out with the words. That was fun. Her Caretaker would not have approved.

Before that thought could make her sad again, she heard the door open. Panic flashed through her, and she lunged for the hidden pocket in her minder’s plush and the lightsaber inside. She wasn’t sure what she’d do with it, but Ma- but dad had said that if anyone came for her she needed to grab it, run, and let the Firce guide her.

“Mara? I’m home!”

“Dad?” She rolled, clutching her minder, and sat up. Ma-dad was in the doorway. She bounded to her feet, then stopped at the sight of the talk, pretty lady behind her. “Who is that?”
 
The Tall lady squatted down to meet her at eye level and smiled warmly. "Hi Mara, I'm Kaydia. I am going to be… helping you and your father for a little while."

"You're going to pretend to be my mom?"

Kaydia chuckled lightly, "Yeah, I am going to be pretending to be your mom. Is that okay?"

Mara nodded at the woman, and brushed her hair back behind her ear. "Yeah, if it's okay with Dad." She glanced up at him, and caught his subtle nod. Kaydia offered her hand, and after a moment's hesitation, she took it.

When she took the woman's hand, she could see her past through the force. Surrounded by stormtroopers in a small room, all of their blasters trained on her. A fine, silvery metallic weave covered her hands, and she deflected away the first laser shot, and sent the second back at her attackers. One trooper grabbed her from behind, but she reacted by running up and then kicking off the wall into a flip behind her assailant. She broke his neck, and he was dead before he hit the floor. Ducking under a follow up blaster attack, she grabbed the arm holding the blaster, and aimed it at his allies, taking two more down in quick succession. Twisting to face the trooper holding the blaster, she slammed the heel of her palm into his nose, sending down to the ground in a lifeless heap.

Whoa! This Kaydia lady was strong, and tough, if she could take on a bunch of storm troopers by herself. She could definitely help fight off Master Skywalker, her and Master Quentin dad together! And he wanted a Jedi to pose as his wife, and she was force sensitive! It was perfect! "It's nice to meet you Kay– I mean, Mom."

She laughed again and squeezed Mara's head, before stand back to her feet. "I suppose I will shower and change to get ready for bed. Looks like I will be sleeping in here?"

"Moms and dads sleep in the same room!" Mara reported, proud to show off the knowledge she'd picked up from the holovids this evening. Mom laughed, and blushed, looking away from dad specifically. Was she embarrassed? Did she not know that? Good thing she was around, to let them know how all this worked. "Here, let me show you where it is!"
 
Same bed. Crap. He hadn’t really thought about that in the rush of planning this somewhat hare-brained scheme and then swinging by Kaydia’s apartment to grab clothes and personal effects. Which hadn’t taken all that much time, really. She lived like someone used to bugging out in a hurry, and had a go-bag already packed.

But, yeah. The two bedroom flat that he maintained as Quentin Halland was very much a two-bedroom flat. One of which was currently occupied by Mara and the hurriedly-ordered accoutrements that a young child needed to look believable. And while there was enough room in the master bedroom for both of them, he hadn’t really planned for the necessity of doing so.

He swallowed, then drew a deep breath and released it. He was a Jedi and a grown-ass adult. This didn’t have to get weird. And he kept telling himself that as he carried Kaydia’s go-bag into the master bedroom.

-*-

“This is the couch,” Mara said, taking her assumed duties very seriously. “It’s very comfortable, and you can bounce on it even though my minder says I shouldn’t..,”

“Indeed you should not!” The droid tried to adopt a stern posture, something undercut by its plush exterior and high-pitched voice. “It is..,”

“And that’s the window, and there’s a balcony outside, and we’re really high up!” She seized Kaydia’s hand. “And this is the hall to my room, and there’s the bathroom, an here’s my room!”

She flung open the door to reveal a bedroom that managed to be full and spartan at the same time. There were a few dolls, and a few more stuffed animals, and construction toys, and board games, all neatly arranged and displayed. The bed was made with military precision, and her dresser - despite the cartoon-faced suns and moons and stars in it - was supremely organized. The only thing seemingly out of place was a white plastic rod, about a meter long, leaning against the dresser.

“Isn’t it great?” Mara asked, grinning. Then she glanced at the door. “Oh! You wanted to get a shower! You can use mine if you want, or dad’s.” She thought about that, lips pursed in concentration. “You should use dad’s. You’re going to be his wife. But could you read me a story before you go to bed?” She hopped up, perching on the edge of her bed. “I’ve never had a mom read me a story before bed.”
 
"Is that so?" Kaydia almost asked if her mother hadn't read to her, but bit the question off before it could come out. Quentin had said his wife had died 3 years ago, and Mara would have only been 4 years old. It was likely she didn't even remember, and asking could only bring up sorrow.

"Sure, I'd love to read to you before bed." Not that she had any experience either. Her upbringing didn't exactly include bedtime stories. But, how hard could it be? So selected a picture book of fairy tales and sat beside Mara on the bed. After a few pages the girl pulled her blankets up and leaned against Kaydia, and before she could even finish the story Mara was softly snoring. Quietly, she stood form the bed, and adjusted the blankets over the sleeping girl. She had to stop herself from plant a kiss on Mara's forehead, reminding herself that this wasn't really her family, just a means to an end. Better not to get attached.

Kaydia tried not to think about that as she showered, and joined Quentin in the master bedroom, in shorts and a tank top. Which felt strange. Countless men and women had seen her completely naked, but this might have been the first time someone saw her in pajamas. Somehow this felt even more vulnerable, more exposed. More like the real Kaydia, a woman she scarcely knew anymore. Distracting herself from introspection, she combed through her hair and pulled it into a loose braid, something easy to sleep in.

"How you given much thought to where we will go? Not that I picky or anything, far from it." She let out a ruefully chuckle, and continued. "I don't even know where I would want to go, if it were my choice. Just away from here, I guess. I, uh, don't even know if I have any contacts or allies left. And what would I even do with myself? Everything I worked towards, everything thing I believed in… I am not sure any of it matters anymore…"

She caught his eyes from across the room, empathetic and full of concern, and she realized that she'd been rambling. "I'm sorry. You have a lot on your mind without me adding my existential crisis to it. I guess this is the first time I actually feel safe enough to really process everything that's happened." And again she getting dangerously close to the truth, a truth she herself wasn't ready to face yet.

She glanced over at the bed to distract herself from her moping. It was certainly big enough for both of them, without requiring them to touch. Not that she would mind that, but clearly he was still in mourning over his late wife. No point in pushing him towards something he wasn't ready for, especially since he was doing her such a big favor. "Hey, I can sleep out on the couch, really. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."
 
“No, no, don’t worry about it,” Quentin replied. “I proposed this hare-brained scheme after you told me why you need to get offworld, so I can’t really complain about your existential crisis.” He chuckled. “And besides. You’re going to be travelling with someone who carries a significant quantity of precious and semi-precious stones that are strongly associated with Jedi.” A grin. “I should be apologizing to you.”

It was a true, albeit not complete, statement. And based on her situation, it was actually up in the air which one of them was in more danger if the truth of his identity came out. But… Republic Intelligence. Maybe, once they were in the clear, he could tell her the truth and enlist her help?

Assuming her story checked out. He sensed no danger in the Force, but that didn’t mean she was being any more honest than he was.

“As to where we’re going. Well,” he shrugged again. “I actually do need to the University of Ar-Jed. They’re researching industrial applications of khyber crystals, and I have about 8,000 carets of milky Lavic khybers. They’re low enough quality that the Temple rejected them, but they’re perfect for the university’s research.”

A few taps on the tablet resting on his desk opened a galactic map. “There aren’t any direct runs from Coruscant to Jedha, though. The best I could find was a liner that makes port at Alderaan and Corellia. From Corellia there’s another liner to Ord Mantell, and from there we can take ship to Arrikan and on to Jedha.”

Actually, it was possible to take a more direct route. But this circular path would help maintain his fiction of a father taking his family on a working vacation. With that thought he tapped the power button, hoping to avoid questions. “And, of course, if you’re able to get in touch with some of your contacts, you’re obviously free to take off at any point during the journey.”

She nodded, clearly thinking about his plan. Then, he noticed her glance at the bed. “Hey, I can sleep out on the couch, really,” she said. “I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

That might work, he thought, although he felt like he should be the one taking the couch. But then, a thought made him frown. “That… hm. You’ve got Black Sun and possibly the RIA looking for you, right?” He pursed his lips, not liking where his logic was going. “Then, the couch probably isn’t a good idea, right? I mean, you’re using this in hopes that you assuming the role of wife and mother will throw any hunters off the scent, right?”

He looked at the bed now himself, mentally calculating. “If you’re under any surveillance, either of us sleeping on the couch will be suspicious.” A sigh. “I, uhm, prefer the right side of the bed. And I get up at 5 am to exercise before I start my day.”
 
"I mean, we could fake an argument, and retreat to the couch in a huff," Kaydia teased, fishing her toothbrush out of her go bag. "You were late to our anniversary dinner, after all." But, she couldn't deny the wisdom of his logic as she brushed her teeth and conceded that sharing his bed was the most prudent option. They were just sharing a bed, nothing weird about that. She'd slept with countless people during her missions, this wasn't that different. Though, there was very little sleeping happening on her missions.

"I really haven't had a regular schedule for years, to be perfectly honest. Undercover work was a lot of late nights, which lent itself to late mornings," she explained, pulling back the blankets on her side. After a moment's hesitation, she slid in beside him, and lay in her side, facing him. "G'night, hun." she murmured, as a joke, but secretly, she quite liked how it sounded.

Eyes closed, she considered the route he suggested, and what options she would have. Corellia was an interesting choice, far enough away from Coruscant to avoid heavy Imperial presence, and shady enough she leverage her knowledge of Black Sun activities to another crime ring, for a substantial payout. Ord Martell was probably the worst choice, on the other hand. Black Sun had a significant presence there, and she doubted she'd last long before they decided to cash in on her bounty once more.

And still, sticking around held a certain appeal. Mara was a sweetheart, and Quentin Halland was well off enough for them to live comfortably. Retirement as a trophy wife didn't sound so bad. Enough that the fantasy lent itself to the sweet surrender of sleep.

That 5 am alarm rang all too soon, jerking her into a wakeful confusion as she tried to remember where she was and whom she was cuddled up with. Maybe not cuddled up, precisely, but she had a hand on his chest and his arm as a pillow. Rolling over, she murmured a sleepy "sorry" and hid the rosy blush on her face.

This was going to take some getting used to.
 
Chuckling at her emphasis on the word, Quentin slid under the covers as well. “Goodnight, darling,” he replied with a grin, then turned out the light. Then he shifted, trying to get comfortable. He really wasn’t used to sharing a bed, and the warmth and sense of presence next to him threw his normal sleep routine. Worse, the darkness seemed to heighten his other senses. He felt every shift of her body through the mattress, heard her every soft breath, smelled the subtle perfume of her skin.

It was going to be a long night, he decided. And then he fell asleep.

His dreams were confusing, and fueled by memories. Travelling to Mustafar with Master Valis, his last mission as a Padawan. His last visit to Mustafar, looking for a woman he knew by a single name. The dream churned the memories together, turning into a surreal adventure.

Why am I dreaming this? he wondered. He wasn’t usually a lucid dreamer, but like Al Jedi he always knew when he was dreaming. No answer came to him. Instead he awoke, five minutes before the alarm. He never actually needed it, but setting it was a trigger to make sure he woke up.

Woke up, in this case, to find Kaydia snuggled into his chest and using his arm as a pillow. He froze, uncertain how to respond. Did he try to extricate his arm and risk waking her? Did he lay here, acutely aware of the pressure of her body against his? And his arm was actually wrapped around her, hand resting on her side. Would she think he was trying to take advantage.

The alarm began chirping. Kaydia jerked and looked startled, then looked even more startled as she blinked sleepily and perred at him. Then she solved his problem by rolling over and mumbling “sorry”.

“Not at all,” he assured her, uncomfortably aware of how much he hadn’t minded at all. “This will just take a little getting used to.” With that he rose and padded out into the living room.

“Daddy!” Mara chirped, standing in the center of the room.

“You know you could have slept in,” he replied with a smile, shaking his head. “You’re growing girl. You need sleep.”

“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head determinedly. “I’m going to train with you!”

“All right, all right.” Her enthusiasm was irrepressible. “We’ll start with stretching, then move into bodyweight and isometrics, and then practice some sword forms.”

Mara’s eyes went wide and shot to the bedroom door behind him. “But…”

“An Echani longsword style,” he continued. “It’s one you saw me practicing, when you asked me to teach you.”

“I… oh!” Her eyes glittered with sudden understanding. “Right! Yes!” She glanced around, nearly bouncing on her toes. “Do I get a sword. Where is…”

“First!” Quentin interrupted, “our other exercises.” He took a stance with his feet shoulder width apart. “Follow me…”
 
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