#pre-kotfe

There was thumping somewhere in the ship and Theron cursed under his breath, hand going to his blaster instinctively. Silence reigned for a long moment, then another thump, and then claws scrabbling.

Right. Gertrude. Of course. Theron relaxed a little, made sure the ship was on autopilot and then turned to go tromping down the hallway. "What? I fed you, I tried to pet you, I gave you treats while trying to pet you. What else do you want?"

She barked at him. Loudly, from further in the ship. And then continued barking as he found her. 

"Okay! Got it! What do you want?"

She was looking at him with absolute derision. Which was not surprising. She'd barely tolerated him when he'd first met Belville on Manaan, and finally on Ziost she'd at least allowed him to touch Belville without looking like she was thinking about biting him. 

They'd gone back to her occasionally looking at him like a snack. Which was probably fair. 

She was standing at the door to Captain's quarters and Theron grimaced. "He's not in there. Sorry."

She gave him one more baleful look, and then continued scratching at the door. Theron turned to let her be when she gave the most pitiful whine he'd probably ever heard. He held still for a minute as the whining continued, and made a face as he finally turned back and palmed the panel. "Fine then, go-"

It was locked. Which he should have expected. And it was more ridiculous that he actually spent a half hour trying to get in, eventually ending up cross-legged on the floor, the entire control pad dismantled and surrounded by wires and bits of metal.

For a dog. He was doing this for a dog. And his own burning curiosity.

Gertrude hadn’t actually left, instead nosing her way into the mess but kept her muzzle well away from any live wires without needing the command, which was appreciated. She still didn’t seem that impressed with him, but Theron decided it was worth counting being in a shared space as a win for longer than five minutes as a win.

It hadn’t even crossed his mind to send Gertrude with Lokin, if he was to take Bel’s ship, it only made sense for her to stay with the ship. She’d meant too much to Belville for Theron to contemplate separating her from what remained of Bel. And then he’d had to spend a day with her, attempting to feed her, and find out she’d been trained to use a toilet. Which was...fascinating. And said a lot about Belville, really.

It was nearly an hour, and probably the longest Theron had taken to break into anything in a long time when the door finally slid open. Gertrude went scrambling into the room as he fell back, mostly without control to lay on the floor and groan. Cipher or not, no one could ever be allowed to know exactly how long it had taken him to crack Bel’s security.

Gertrude was making noise deeper in the room, snuffling around in the room and Theron sighed, slowly getting up and following her inside. “I know, I’m sorry, he’s not- oh.”

She had shoved herself into the closet, pulling down clothes and was currently turning circles in an amongst Bel’s clothes. He watched for a moment until she settled in, burying her nose into one of Bel’s sweaters and whining softly. Theron swallowed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Ya. I know. I wish he were too.”

She whined once more and fell quiet and Theron let her be, scanning the room quietly.

It didn’t look like it had been entered since Bel’s disappearance. Or if it had been, someone had put it back together expertly, which seemed more likely, although he’d be forever annoyed if Lokin had gotten into Bel’s quarters faster than he had. But everything looked as  he remembered, when he’d caught a ride with Bel from Rishi to Yavin 4, although he probably could have paid more attention to the surroundings and less attention to the man that had been under him.

He took a seat on the bed for a lack of anything else to do, leaning forward to rest elbows to knees. The air was stale enough in the room that no one had been in it recently, and he couldn’t smell much more than that, but there was something oddly comforting about being in a space Bel had owned so thoroughly, and whatever smell remained on his clothes was clearly enough for Gertrude if Theron could be any judge of her snuffling.

A part of him wanted to begin rifling through Belville’s things, the part that had been SIS for so long. He doubted Bel had left any immediate intelligence simply sitting around, but there were things he could learn about the man from the things he had left behind. Some other part of him just wanted to look for pieces of the man that had left them all behind. Something that would feel a bit more real than the ghost they were chasing that he was hoping was a bit more substantial than it felt.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t believe Lana, and didn’t want to get Bel back, and didn’t trust that Bel had come back from worse. But it was beginning to feel a lot like they were looking to resurrect a pipedream. It would have been nicer to have Bel here now, probably very annoyed that his room had been broken into by SIS. Nicer to have someone who’d stepped up against impossible odds like this before at their side. 

Really, it just would have been nice to just have him there, possibly get to see him one more time before the Eternal Empire wiped them all out. 

If Lana was right, then it would be decently rude for Bel to come back and find out not only had his room been broken into, Theron had also gone rifling through his things. He kept his hands to himself. It was odd to think he’d only been in here once before, and even at that, Bel had kept him thoroughly distracted to prevent any snooping. Still, there was enough of the man left in the room it felt like he ought to walk back in a moment later. That presence wasn’t one that he could forget. Even if Bel himself pretended not to be aware of the effect he sometimes had on people.

He wanted to say he didn’t miss Bel, but that would have been a lie. It was stupid, considering they had both agreed they weren’t going to work, that they weren’t going to ask each other to do things that would endanger the other, to cross their boundaries to make it work. They had agreed not to even think about asking the other to betray everything the other stood for. He hadn’t wanted to ask Bel to step into danger for him, and Bel had been very clear that he didn’t want Theron attempting to protect him at his own expense, ever.

This could probably be considered a violation of what they’d agreed to. Facing off against the Eternal Empire to get him back was definitely endangering himself for Belville’s sake. But if they failed then Bel would never know, and if they did, then he could handle the lecture later. It was very much a case where Theron hoped he’d have to ask for forgiveness about it.

He’d give a lot of things to be able to ask Bel for forgiveness about this. 

He jumped a little as Gertrude hopped up on the bed, one of Bel’s uniform shirts in her mouth. She circled for a moment or two, then unceremoniously shoved her head under his arm and into his lap. Theron huffed out a half-hearted laugh and scratched beneath the armoured ridges over her back. She settled down on his lap and rumbled happily.

The incessant beeping of a holocom dragged Theron out of a deep sleep with a reluctant groan. For a long moment, he considered just burrowing into bed and refusing to answer the call. The odds of Marcus calling him to order him back to HQ were low, especially at -- he cracked an eye open and balefully glared at the chronometer -- 06:23 in the morning.

He heard a disgruntled whine on the other side of the bed, then felt the mattress shift as Xaja dragged herself out of the sheets to shut the holocom up. With a grunt, Theron rolled over to watch her pick up his tee-shirt from where he had discarded it on the floor last night, slipping it over her head. It was long enough to cover everything, although it didn't stop Theron from eyeing where her legs vanished under the hem of the garment. Even with his displeasure at waking up early, he still grinned at the memory of what was hidden under his stolen shirt.

The grin faded when he saw Xaja frown at the holocom, then answer it. “Yes?” Her eyes widened as she heard the caller say something, too quiet for Theron to make out. “You're certain? Yes… of course… I understand.” Her jaw tightened before she grimly nodded. “I can be en route soon.” The call disconnected, and she sighed heavily, looking like the weight of the galaxy had just settled back onto her slim shoulders.

Now fully awake, Theron sat up, worry creasing his brow. “What was that about?”

Xaja didn't answer for a minute, tossing the comm back on her pile of clothing and returning to the bed. She slipped back under the covers and drew her knees up to her chest. “It was from Darth Marr… through a few different channels. He has a lead as to where Vitiate disappeared to.”

Theron's heart dropped to his stomach, dread making his blood run cold. “Where?”

“Wild Space, a couple of days’ travel from Chiss Space. He suspects it's something to do with the unknown forces attacking both Republic and Imperial planets.” Xaja chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “He sent coordinates.”

“You're going out there to rendezvous with the head of the kriffing Dark Council?” Theron rested a hand on Xaja's knee. “Xaja--”

“If it is Vitiate, I need to take this chance.” Xaja shot Theron a grim, worried look. “I can't let another world end up like Ziost, Theron. I have to find a way to destroy him first.”

Theron didn't like it. He didn't like the idea of the girl he had fallen hard for running out into Wild Space to meet with the leader of the enemy faction. He didn't like the idea of her going on a mission with no plan beyond “kill the bastard who had hurt her too many times before”. And he hated the haunted look in her eyes -- the same agonized look she had borne when she has first come to his apartment after Ziost's destruction, the look on her face after every nightmare she'd had since.

He sighed, raising his hand to cradle her face and leaning in to kiss her. “Please tell me you'll come back,” he murmured.

A frown flickered over Xaja's face as her hand settled on his shoulder. “I haven't not come back yet. Are you all right, Theron?”

Theron shook his head slightly as he struggled for the words. “... Just a bad feeling,” he finally said, like that explained the immense sense of foreboding doom that settler over his heart. “I don't like any of this.”

“Neither do I,” Xaja murmured. “But it's our best shot so far.”

“I know,” Theron reluctantly sighed. “Just… promise me you'll come back.”

“Promise.” Xaja offered him a smile and gently pulled him in for another kiss. “You're here. That's incentive enough to come home.”

The flutter in Theron's heart was almost enough to break through the dread. He smiled and pulled her in for another kiss as they fell back on the pillows together, taking care to make sure he gave Xaja even more reason to come back to him. But even in middle of early morning sex, the worry lingered. It remained while they finally showered and dressed, while they shared a quick breakfast together, while Xaja was finally collecting her gear to head to the spaceport.

He stopped her at his front door, caressing her cheek and gazing into her eyes. “Promise me you'll be safe,” he whispered, wishing he could just pull her back into bed with him and pretend Marr hadn't summoned her to a dangerous hunt.

Theron’s not used to having people stay overnight at his small apartment. He’s straight-up not used to having people in his apartment – he values his privacy, after all. So when he rolls over and finds the other side of his bed filled with a petite red-haired woman, he needs a second to process it. And when he remembers the events of the night before, how his invite for her to meet him for a drink at one of Coruscant’s many cantinas ended with both of them in his bed, he smiles and brushes his lips over her forehead.

Xaja stirs slightly at the touch, but doesn’t awaken. Theron affectionately shakes his head, remembering their time spent on Rishi and Yavin IV only a few short weeks ago, and how he really should know by now that the venerable Jedi Battlemaster does not like mornings and takes forever to properly wake up. Caf had seemed to be the only thing that helped, and Xaja’s former Padawan, Kira, had emphatically confirmed it. Fortunately, Theron’s as much of a caf addict as the pretty Jedi sharing his bed. He carefully slips out of the bed without waking her up, pulls on a pair of sweatpants, and makes his way out to the small kitchen unit. Half of his diet when he’s not in the field might be takeout or cheap, easy-to-make food, but he always makes sure he has decent caf beans.

By the time he’s filling the second mug with dark, fragrant caf, Xaja’s awake. Theron looks up as she makes her way out of his bedroom, and feels his heart lurch into his throat and a pleasant, tingly warmth spread from his belly up and down his spine when he notices that she’s found one of his tee-shirts. It’s far too large on her, practically hanging off one shoulder, and he can’t decide if the image is adorable or sexy as hell. He swallows hard and comes around the counter with caf in hand, offering one of the mugs to her.

Her smile lights up the room as she accepts the caf, her slim fingers wrapping around the ceramic mug and brushing Theron’s along the way. No matter that they’ve just spent all night touching each other – the brush of her soft skin against his still sends a pleasant jolt down his spine. It’s tempered by a burst of heartwarming affection as she takes a sip of the caf, smiles, stretches up on tip-toe to gently kiss the corner of Theron’s mouth, and turns so she can lean against the counter beside him.

My Mass Effect models were pissing me off, so I took a break. So have some angsty Theron Shan.

Theron just learned about Darth Marr’s ship being destroyed in Wild Space, and the woman he loves was on board.

Aric Jorgan was a loyal soldier. He dedicated his life to fighting and serving the Republic. But when he’s demoted thanks to Havoc Squad’s defection, he finds himself in unfamiliar territory when his reassignment takes him somewhere he least expected. AU/canon divergent.

Title: There is no Death, there is only Wrath Chapters/Word Count: 2 of lots, ~750 words Overall rating: T for some dark humor Relationships: F!SW/Quinn, starting in chapter 2 Characters: Nalenne, Sith Warrior; Pierce, Broonmark, and Quinn’s Ghost Spoilers: Throughout SIth Warrior Acts 1-3

Summary:

There once was a man from Balmorra, Took a job with a Sithy signora. Got in over his head, Double-crossed her (it’s said), Now he’s food for Corellian remora.