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Lodestone: A Wynston/Ruth Alternate Universe


bright_ephemera

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This is just my personal take on things, obviously, but I feel it's a combination of factors.

 

1) Ruth is all light-sidey in this one and less prone to negative emotions like jealousy.

2) Quinn was monogamous but betrayed her; Wynston is not monogamous, yet would never betray her. I think that the contrast shows that there's more than one way of being faithful.

3) Ruth loves Wynston for who he is, and his work is an enormous part of that. He tries to accomplish that work while killing and hurting the fewest people. If sex is a way to achieve one of his goals, it's one that causes less pain and harm than, say, killing someone. In fact, it can be good and enjoyable - so why not choose it instead of something that has a negative impact? I think that's just the way he sees it and because she loves and accepts him she can accept that, even if she wouldn't feel able to accomplish missions in the same way.

 

 

I've taken some time to think about this.

 

1: Light side or not, Ruth is still a Sith. She was raised in the Empire. Emotional reactions are unpredictable and jealousy is human nature. No matter how hard one fights to purge emotional responses (Jedi) or lessen their effects they are still there and they are brutal things. Ruth likely talks herself out of any jealousy she feels bubble to the surface which doesn't deal with the issue at all.

 

2: I'm speaking strictly on sexual fidelity and Wynston fails. Repeatedly. And in different positions.

 

3: There are plenty of ways to get information from people non-violently: money, shiny things, rescuing a loved one from the evil Republic/Empire. Whether or not Wynston takes different routes before sleeping with someone or goes straight for the bedroom has yet to be seen.

 

 

What is likely helping this relationship is that Wynston is away for large chunks of time. When he's back, the immediate emotional response is to spend as much time with that person and make it count. When he leaves again, the worry and doubt should return, but, as long as he's there, he's not having sex with some random chick and that is... comforting... somehow.

 

 

I'm just having an extremely hard time wrapping my mind around such a setup.

 

Edited by irishfino
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I'm just having an extremely hard time wrapping my mind around such a setup.

 

 

The people I've known who do it in a nonprofessional capacity (one partner poly, one really not) have trouble explaining. It works for them, and has, for some, for years. Wynston with Ruth in domestic bliss isn't the agreement and never was, and sex doesn't stand out to her as this one critical thing that she must control when he's away. Coming as she does from a class of people who consider themselves entitled to bang what they want when they want, she recognizes the value of love to go with the sex; she doesn't find herself obsessing over the mere act elsewhere.

 

I have struggled with writing correspondence between Ruth's parents on the subject, because they must have dealt with the same thing. In the absence of anything very clever to say I've left that aside.

 

 

Brain thoughts are happening. I might have more later.

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The people I've known who do it in a nonprofessional capacity (one partner poly, one really not) have trouble explaining. It works for them, and has, for some, for years. Wynston with Ruth in domestic bliss isn't the agreement and never was, and sex doesn't stand out to her as this one critical thing that she must control when he's away. Coming as she does from a class of people who consider themselves entitled to bang what they want when they want, she recognizes the value of love to go with the sex; she doesn't find herself obsessing over the mere act elsewhere.

 

I have struggled with writing correspondence between Ruth's parents on the subject, because they must have dealt with the same thing. In the absence of anything very clever to say I've left that aside.

 

 

Brain thoughts are happening. I might have more later.

 

I'll never understand it :D

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So...here's some background relationship stuff, that may feel uncharacteristically down in general because it mostly talks about minor stress points, but this is stuff that has happened in the process of reaching the present day.

 

L + 15 months: Fidelity

 

 

 

Ruth seemed preoccupied when she met Wynston at the gate, and he didn't think it was just the stifling warmth of the day. She was lovely, as ever; the unusually light rain left her hair and eyelashes gemmed with raindrops; but something was wrong.

 

She curled up a little apart from him on the couch and inquired with subdued friendliness about his health and travels. She talked a little about her own. There was a distance about it, a hesitation every now and then.

 

Finally he had to ask. "Is something wrong?"

 

She sipped her tea. Her face twitched into a frown and back. "When's the last time you had sex?" she said abruptly.

 

Every alarm in Wynston's system went off at once. "With you, or in general?" he asked mildly.

 

She watched him. "In general."

 

There was no safe way to evade when she had that look. He wasn't supposed to evade anyway, he reminded himself. "About three weeks ago," he said.

 

"Was she pretty?"

 

Bloody hell. This kind of questioning always led to exactly one ultimatum. "I won't answer that. Darling, it was a job, I wasn't taking notes and now it's over."

 

"And before that?"

 

"What?"

 

"The woman before that."

 

"I won't answer that, either."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Because it cannot possibly do either of us any good, Ruth. You want to know something about the last woman I slept with for the mission? She doesn't know my name. She hadn't the faintest concept of loyalty to a nation or a cause. Discretion wasn't her strong point, which is how I know that she considered the part I played for her to be 'a red-eyed freak but at least he made her laugh.'" He checked the look on Ruth's face and consciously cleared his impatience. "Things like that don't matter. It's about the role, not me. The woman before that liked to take her amusements with slaves. Any reminder the fake I played there let slip about his being a sentient being provoked severe dissatisfaction, but if he was careful she could be nice enough." He stood up and took an aimless few steps. Ruth was listening raptly; she didn't look friendly but she had backed away from anger.

 

"Yes," he said, "there are brief entanglements when I'm traveling. When I'm on the job. For what it's worth, those women meet with the job, not me. They sleep with the slave, the diplomat, the courier, the nurse, the low-level manager and meal ticket, the stranger in some no-name cantina. You're the only woman who's slept with me." The exception had been years ago, before he was old enough to know better, and he was so different then it didn't count.

 

Ruth frowned, seeming thoughtful. "That's the best you've got?"

 

"Yes. If it isn't enough, I'm sorry."

 

He had gotten kicked out for that one before. He had used it to get kicked out before. Once or twice he had come to this point, chosen for whatever reason to be honest about the limit, and yet found himself wishing he didn't have to leave. None of that changed what he could say.

 

"I'll have to think about it," she said softly.

 

Ah. And that's how that ended. Nearly a year and a half; not a bad run. Downright rare, in fact. It wouldn't have gone on that long if he didn't always find himself wanting to come back to her. He shoved the impact aside. "As you wish," he said, and was once again glad to have nothing more than an already-packed bag to carry away.

 

"Wait!" She bounded off the couch to throw her arms around him. "Don't you dare go anywhere."

 

He also shoved aside the spontaneous thrill of her enthusiasm. "I thought you were going to think."

 

"I will. But you've got time here first and I want that more."

 

Why did she keep extending this trust when she wasn't ready? "Ruth, we are rapidly returning to 'I have no idea how to react to this' territory."

 

"You and me both," she murmured, a twist of mischief in her voice.

 

"No." Playful denial wasn't going to help. He braced her face in his hands, made sure she was looking at him. "This is the kind of thing that'll drive a person crazy, and if it's hurting you we'd better stop sooner rather than later. What you do, what you bring out in me and what you let me be – myself – no one else does that. As for what I do elsewhere, it's a tool. It's one of many but it's one I can't afford to just cut out. If that isn't enough for you tell me now."

 

She studied his eyes. "No one around here would be calling you a redeye freak, or any other kind."

 

She meant it. He shook his head. "I'm needed out there, darling."

 

Needed by what? was the natural, bitter question she could ask. "Okay," she said instead. "I just wonder, sometimes. About the rest of it."

 

"Don't be ashamed of wondering. You know I'll talk to you." He hugged her. Talking or leaving. Those were the options. He had to hope she wouldn't avoid the one for fear of forcing the other.

 

In time he said awkwardly, "You know this also means you don't owe me that kind of fidelity while I'm away."

 

"Hm. I don't think I'm built for anything else."

 

Of course not. Someone that open, that reckless, would likely burn herself out with more than one partner; she didn't do shallow. "If you find someone worthwhile who can return that, for goodness' sake don't let him go." She deserved no less. And she might need this reminder to think of herself.

 

"Don't tell me what to do while you're away," she said gently.

 

"Don't tell me, don't ever tell me, that you're all right if you're not."

 

She set her hands on his chest and frowned for a little while. "Do…do the fake men ever compare?" she said hesitantly. "About whatever advantages other women have."

 

He shook his head fervently. "Nothing compares to you." Either she could live with that assertion or she couldn't. The assertion was true, but the mere truth rarely counted for anything in these matters. Then again, this was Ruth. She had a way of making the truth come out all right. "There's nothing in the same world. The fakes have seen it all and all of it ends, but I have never known anyone like you." He took one of her hands and kissed it, very lightly. "And before you ask, I don't come back here just because I'm bored or you're easy or I think I'm getting some kind of status from having you. I come back because seeing you happy – you, Ruth – is the single most rewarding thing that's ever happened in my personal life." Her fingers curled around his and he squeezed them. "Nothing else compares."

 

She made a face. "You're seeing me insecure and demanding more than happy."

 

"Seeing you insecure and demanding remains a hell of a lot more pleasant than what I do most days. Besides, I'm still holding out hope for happy."

 

She smiled, finally. And made a visible effort to pull herself together. "You're sweet," she said.

 

"Only you can decide if that's enough." It wasn't, not by any normal measure. Still, he selfishly hoped.

 

"It's enough for right now?" She didn't sound unsure of the sentiment, only of his reaction.

 

What, taking now knowing that tomorrow the whole thing might blow up? He was used to that. He nodded. "Let's make the most of it, darling."

 

 

 

Notes on that:

 

 

Have some more extravagant assertions! Really, though, it's best to lay it out.

 

Stuff that's technically more rewarding that happened in his professional life: Telling Jadus to bugger off. Killing a grimy failed-Jedi SIS schemer before he could hand a superweapon to the Republic. Stopping the Star Cabal.

 

Stuff that's more rewarding that happened in his personal life: .

 

 

 

 

L + 6 years: Other Options

 

 

 

Ruth and Wynston lay haphazardly on the bed, staring at the ceiling, talking about nothing in particular. An empty bottle of brandy was lined up next to a couple of empty glasses on the nightstand; it wasn't an everyday thing, just the occasional evening's indulgence. Now they were just chatting.

 

After a lull Ruth said, very casually, "Have you really not met anyone more interesting than me by now?"

 

"I really have not," Wynston said steadily. He found her hand and squeezed it. "You'll recall it took quite a bit of trauma for me to let you close."

 

"Well, you might get traumatized more while I'm not looking."

 

"Trust me, you hear all about it when I report back. It helps."

 

"Surely there's someone on the Tenebrous or somewhere who can actually be around for these things."

 

"And surely you've met a suitable consort by now. Someone who can stay around here looking handsome and–" Wynston touched the scar on his face and grimaced – "minimally damaged. Who can give you more children." He turned his head to look at her. "Who can be wholly yours, Ruth. Everything about you is fitted to that, and yet every time I come back to that gate you're there, waiting for me."

 

"You're the one I want. Just like we have."

 

"I'm glad. I always want to come back. When I'm out there some part of me or you or both is always calling me home." He stroked her hand, the inside of her forearm, and when he spoke again he was quieter. "I love you, but every time you compare yourself with the imaginary beauties I meet out there, you remind me of the man I can't be for you. I love my work. It's right. It's necessary. But by its very nature it means that between the two of us, you're the one giving something up. If anything about it bothers you, talk to me. But don't think I feel like I'm missing out, because I'm not."

 

"Don't think I feel like I'm missing out," she repeated, smiling. "Because every time you come back to that gate, I see a man worth waiting for."

 

 

 

 

L + 10 years: Getting Bored

 

 

 

"What happens when you get bored of me?"

 

Wynston halted his dinner mid-bite. "I won't. What happens when you get bored of Cole?"

 

"Don't be silly," said Ruth. "He's my son."

 

"And you are, not to be melodramatic, my love."

 

"That can change."

 

"Can it?" Wynston said thoughtfully. "I've come to doubt that, since I met you."

 

She picked up her fork, considered the food. Put it down again. "I'm turning thirty next month."

 

"So you are. I'll have to send you something for your birthday." Wynston grinned at her. "Thirty's not so bad, darling. Neither's thirty-eight, if you're wondering."

 

"You look good for thirty-eight."

 

"You look good for anything at all." He leaned over the corner of the table to touch his nose to hers, a small playful gesture. "You're awfully down on yourself today."

 

"I was just thinking I'm not exactly the girl you met."

 

"Time will do that. I'm scarcely the man who was picking up strange Sith in cantinas back in the day."

 

Ruth smiled. "You are exactly the same crusader."

 

"Oh? Surely I've gotten better at it by now."

 

She laughed softly and kissed him, and that is what Colrand walked in and interrupted with an exasperated "Mo-om."

 

"Cole?" She didn't quite shiver from the sudden whisper-light touch of Wynston's fingertips down the wrist he caught when she leaned away. He was usually very good at not distracting her from things. Usually.

 

"Console's broken again. Deshla can't figure it out."

 

"Let's see what I can do." She wasn't quite the slicer she had been before her career as Wrath had taken over, but she still knew a thing or two about computer systems.

 

Colrand withdrew a couple of steps and waited. As Ruth stood, Wynston held on to her arm and moved nimbly to stay close behind her. He leaned in close to her ear. "Nothing's ever certain," he breathed, "but as long as you want me I am yours. Possibly longer."

 

"Busy," she muttered indignantly.

 

"I know, darling. Just making sure you know, I am nowhere near bored."

 

 

Edited by bright_ephemera
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A note that came up while I was on a bus for way too long yesterday with nothing to do but think and write. I thought I would mention it.

 

 

I have always been fascinated by the Arthurian legends in general and Guinevere and Lancelot in particular. The phrase that lurked in the back of my mind throughout Lodestone's early days is from this passage in T.H. White's wonderful The Once and Future King, in which Elaine has tricked the previously pure Lancelot into sleeping with her under pretense of being Guinevere:

Straight from Elaine, straight from her robbery, Lancelot came like an arrow to the heart of love.

After Kaliyo, I very nearly titled this Arrow or something like it.

 

The comparisons are indirect at best. Unlike Lancelot, Wynston's sin is love, not sex. Unlike Guinevere, Ruth leaves her husband early. And unlike Arthur…well, everything about Quinn is unlike Arthur, except that at one point he was bound by duty and law to condemn and seek to execute his own wife for treason.

 

Perhaps most significantly, though, Guinevere never embarked on a solo career as an unstoppable killing machine.

 

 

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L + 15 years 2 days, part 1

 

 

 

The Emperor's Wrath was a stringy creature; she looked capable of combat, at least, if not much else. Big blue eyes, a little mouth that might've been cute before those two faint lines started setting in. Womp-rat-brown hair tied up so tightly Larr Gith had to wonder why the Sith bothered growing it out at all. Well-polished, imposing black armor – she clearly cared about impressing someone, assuming that someone didn't mind the Sith's natural looks.

 

Larr Gith needn't have bothered prettying herself up.

 

"Hello," said the newcomer, her voice brassy. She walked into the circle in Jaesa Brindel's living room to join mousy Jaesa, scruffy Orphea, and the inescapable Lord Scourge.

 

Time to get this going.

Jaesa stepped forward. "Wrath, I'm really glad you could come."

 

"We all are," added Orphea. Her Force signature didn't particularly demonstrate gladness, nor anything else. Cautious girl.

 

Larr Gith awaited an introduction.

 

One was not forthcoming. To Larr Gith's considerable surprise, the Sith walked straight up to Jaesa, made as if to shake hands, and clasped her wrist tightly. Then grabbed the other.

 

"My lord?" said Jaesa.

 

"Checking something. Hi, good to see you." She moved on to Orphea. The older woman resignedly held her arms forward. The Wrath checked them, huffed, and snapped a small console off her wrist.

 

"Not using this?" she asked suspiciously.

 

"I didn't have to, my lord."

 

"What?" said Larr Gith.

 

"Tricks these people use," said the Sith. "Nothing personal, Jedi." She stalked right up to her and extended a hand.

 

Larr Gith looked at her.

 

"Please, Master Jedi," said Orphea.

 

No way was Larr Gith letting this crazy woman touch her. "Can I get a name first?" she said coldly.

 

"I'll vouch for them," Jaesa said quietly to the Wrath. "I promise."

 

The Wrath gave her a long look, then nodded. "Very well." She stepped back.

 

"So, this is Orphea," said Jaesa, indicating the older woman. "We talked via holo; I've met her before that. She's good people."

 

Orphea shot Jaesa a warm smile, then bowed to the Wrath. "My lord. It's an honor." Again, a muted one. Orphea gestured toward the big Pureblood. "This is Lord Scourge, the previous Emperor's Wrath. It was the Emperor's earlier actions that drove him away from his job. Scourge, Ruth Niral, the Emperor's Wrath."

 

Scourge nodded. "So this is the one we are to expend such effort on."

 

"As I understand it, you could be expending it the other way," the younger Wrath said wryly. She had eased into an exaggeratedly friendly manner, as she were delighted to be friends with everyone here. "That wouldn't be good for any of us."

 

"No," said Scourge, flashing a white smile. "It wouldn't."

 

…any day now…

 

"And this," Orphea said at last, "is Jedi Master Larr Gith."

 

"Charmed, I'm sure," said Larr Gith, looking down at the Sith. "I always thought you'd be taller."

 

That shook the ****-eating friendliness off the woman's face.

 

"So I hear you're helpless against the Emperor's suggestions," continued Larr Gith. Possibly including the nutcase paranoia on what Larr had been told was a friendly visit. "I guess we need to fix that." A tall order, but she was sure she was up to it. Orphea was obsessed with the idea. Relative? Lover? Unclear; Orphea stayed tight-lipped about that. Whatever the situation, Larr Gith was stuck working on this.

 

"I won't be of much use to you until I can block it," said the Wrath, and visibly clamped her jaw shut.

 

"The Wrath's expertise will be very much worth it in the battles to come," said Orphea.

 

"I should hope so," said Lord Scourge. It was the only selling point that had appeased him.

 

"So," said the Wrath. "Larr. I heard you may be able to assist me in concealing knowledge and shaking off commands. Color me interested."

 

"Marvelous," purred Larr. "You're here with some of the only people who have thrown off the Emperor’s compulsion within close range. That’s really more our talent than our training, but maybe you’ll manage." She beckoned Ruth to one of the low grey couches along the wall.

 

The Wrath followed, but she looked skeptical. "When did you ever face the Emperor?"

 

"When I killed him," Larr said proudly.

 

The Wrath's eyes widened. That cutesy little mouth curled upward a little. "You killed him, did you? You didn’t do a very good job."

 

Larr shot a look at Lord Scourge. That was the whole reason he had come looming back in her life, and she still wasn't happy about it. "Then we’d best be prepared for next time," she said. "There’s a simple meditation you can start with, and if you can figure that out we can start on the real work."

 

The Wrath nodded and shifted a little. "Lead me, then."

 

The others were on the move, wandering toward a different room. This one was down to Larr's unique talent.

 

"Close your eyes," said Larr. She remembered the old exercises, the irritating disciplines. She had never really needed them, but they might help this untrained enforcer. "Close your eyes. The beginning of a shield is pure intent, a focus from which you can work with…spite, or insecurity, or whatever it is you people use." Hey, maybe the annoyance would help. She didn't like Ruth's impression of a non-Sith. She would have to be real, really herself, to survive this, and if Larr Gith had to dig a little to get to that, well, it could be amusing.

 

But as she guided the Wrath into weaving a Force shield, it was the Light Side she felt being directed with a fair amount of skill. And a very good amount of power. Larr started fashioning her own shell just to assert that she could. She hadn't done it in a long time. A very long time. She kept talking, directing, and the Sith kept showing off.

 

"Of course," Larr said at length, "it takes quite a lot of fortitude to resist the initial blow of the Emperor's will. And I doubt you would ever manage to break his domination from within, so you'd better be sure before you go up against him."

 

The Wrath had a settled composure about her. "Let me worry about that."

 

"The more you know about Orphea's little operation – Wynston's, whatever, he hasn't shown his face anyway–" very interesting, how the Wrath tensed at the sound of that name – "the more we all have to worry. Lord Scourge will crush you if you receive an invite before he thinks you're ready." He was a jerk, but a very pragmatic one.

 

"Lord Scourge couldn't stop me. Not that it would be an issue. I wouldn't be stupid enough to accept the invitation."

 

"Lord Scourge would have some words to say about your opinion." Larr Gith stood and stretched, allowing her Force shield to dissipate. "And so would I."

 

"I'd hate to get us killed in the argument over who's going to be compelled to kill each other," the Wrath said dryly.

 

How calm. "You know, for somebody who's supposed to be passion-fueled you don't act very passionate."

 

She emitted a burst of superiority. "It's there," she said softly.

 

"I hope so. You're going to need it." Larr tossed her long blonde hair. "Anyway. For now, practice. And practice, and practice. The Emperor's raw power is unbelievable."

 

The Wrath stood. "I'm familiar with it," she said.

 

"Perhaps, but you're not familiar with fighting back. That'll be the test, Wrath." Larr moved toward the door where everyone else had gone. "Come on, that's it for today. I'd hate to strain you."

 

Annoyingly enough, Ruth nodded and followed her, unruffled. This was an absolutely terrible Sith.

 

Never mind. Jaesa and Orphea stood – Lord Scourge was already standing, having rejected the tea that had been served – and Jaesa took a step forward looking curious.

 

"I've got a start," said the Wrath before Larr could speak up. "And I think this visit is it for the day's socializing, which is what Moff Quinn and company will be told it is. I'll be sent into the field, possibly on extended assignment, very soon; I'll make sure to have a secure holo set up. And I'll practice." She nodded in Larr Gith's direction. "If you see Wynston…well, do you know where he is?"

 

That was a fascinatingly conflicted statement. This Sith had issues after all. "I haven't seen him," said Larr.

 

"I got some orders via holo," said Orphea. "That's the most I've heard from him."

 

"Cagey," murmured the Wrath. "It's…it's just as well, really. All right. I'll prepare. You'll…" she looked to Orphea. "You'll help him. Any way you can."

 

"That's the idea," said Orphea, smiling. "I'm sure we'll be seeing you, Wrath."

 

Larr nodded. "There's advanced work once you're sure of the steps I showed you today. If you're not born with it, this isn't a simple thing to learn."

 

"I'll work it out," said the Wrath. Then, "Thank you."

 

Gracious, too. Was she just doing the good-Jedi impression as some kind of annoying joke? Larr only managed to nod.

 

The Sith walked out. Larr Gith took a look around. People were exchanging hopeful looks. Well, non-Scourge people. Nobody was saying anything; the silence grated on her nerves.

 

"I really thought she'd be taller," she said.

 

 

 

 

Dammit, I really meant to have the disguise-generator check in this thing. Then I switched to Larr Gith's POV and forgot 'minor details' like that. Hence, take down the post for a bit to rewrite. Anyway, Ruth's last update on that tech was still the wrist console setup. So Orphea made sure to have what she expected.

 

How hard is Ruth hunting right now? As un-hard as she possibly can. Yep, he's definitely got to die, she knows that. Also the lawn definitely has to get mown. I'll get on that. I will. Ugh, don't wanna do it yet. Can't I just wait for the Emperor's Hand to get me a lead?

 

 

Edited by bright_ephemera
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Annoyingly enough, Ruth nodded and followed her, unruffled. This was an absolutely terrible Sith.

 

hahahaha. f* you Larr!

 

No way was Larr Gith letting this crazy woman touch her.

 

:D

 

*secretly loves Larr*

Edited by kabeone
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L + 15 years 2 days, part 2

 

 

 

Orphea pulled Vector aside the moment the party returned to the Aegis.

 

"How is the Wrath?" asked the Joiner.

 

"Paranoid," said Orphea. "But functioning." She shook her head. "I can't risk that again."

 

"But we have no good excuse for another agent to step in."

 

"I'll find an excuse. Vector, keeping your cool to sneak up on a careless Force user is one thing, facing her is something else entirely. If she recognizes something in me it's over. For both of us. And I don't trust Larr Gith and Scourge to pull off the long game alone." Orphea considered. "Also I'm not that eager to die."

 

"What is the plan for now?"

 

"Go back into the field. Put out fires. Keep our resources invested in locating the Emperor's true form." She paused. "Watch out just in case Ruth crosses our path."

 

 

 

 

L + 15 years 2 days, part 3

 

 

 

Colrand sat opposite his father in the living room. He was a little surprised to find that Quinn was capable of sitting at all; even now he seemed stiff and uncomfortable, but at least he was at eye level.

 

"Does the Wrath visit the city often?" Quinn had questions about everything. At Colrand's slightest hesitation he would stop, apologize, and move to neutral subjects, but he was obviously dying to know all about the household he had gotten dropped into.

 

"Yeah," said Colrand. "When she's in town. You know. Sometimes Citadel business, sometimes visiting Aunt Jaesa."

 

"She chose an odd time for a social call. The assignment is clear."

 

"The last couple days she hasn't liked the assignments much."

 

"Very true." Quinn looked down at his drink. "I understand that the matter of the agent is personal. At the same time, her reluctance to leave yesterday was pointless. She should know that duty overrides personal objections. I fear she is not thinking clearly in this matter."

 

"Mom always thinks stuff through," he said stoutly.

 

"Colrand, your mother has a remarkable mind, and her tactical acumen is first-rate." Quinn took a moment to choose his words. "Her strategic-level decisions are not always above question."

 

Weighty. Colrand took only a moment to think. "That's why you sold her out," he said, and immediately regretted saying it like that.

 

"Yes," Quinn said shortly. "That is why I sided with her master over her years ago."

 

"She never talks about it." Her mentions of it were so rare, and he had always been afraid to bring it up.

 

"That doesn't surprise me."

 

"So you thought something was wrong with her strategy? I don't really understand her options. Her master decided she had to die. What was she supposed to do, give up and flop over?"

 

"She could have tried to make amends. Restored alliances that would make her position defensible." It wasn't a real answer. The tiniest tension around his eyes, the smallest flicker of emotion in the Force, betrayed Quinn's anger. And his sorrow.

 

"Sorry," said Colrand. "I just, that's the whole reason things happened like this, and nobody told me anything."

 

"It's a matter best left buried," Quinn said quietly. "It was a matter of my duty and her rebellion. That duty is hard, Colrand, especially when one reaches the heights your mother has. She understands the action now. I fear that she has not been afforded the time to recover from it, and she may misstep as a result."

 

"So what are you going to do?"

 

"Assist her. That's what I was sent here to do. I…" Quinn met Colrand's gaze head-on. "I have her best interests at heart."

 

"And your duty," Colrand said carefully. Ruth had warned him.

 

"Yes. Every person of honor remembers his duty."

 

Wynston talked a lot about how one's duty was to the right before any authority, but Colrand would have to be a lot dumber than he was to talk about Wynston with Quinn. He would just have to think about it.

 

Later. Colrand moved on. "When you and Mom do leave. It might be a while, huh? They kept saying 'campaign'."

 

"Yes. It's likely to be an extended assignment."

 

"Can I come with you?"

 

Quinn did a double take. He very nearly smiled. "It should be safe enough on board the Tenacity. The decision will be up to the Wrath, of course."

 

"I should be the one to ask. Just…you know. So she won't turn it down right away."

 

He sobered. "That would be prudent, yes."

 

Quinn seemed so…defeated, about Ruth personally. And she, well, she had always hated him. "I'm…I'm sorry," said Colrand.

 

"None of this is your fault."

 

"Yeah, but…it's tough. You're still my father."

 

There was a hitch in his breath. "Cole, I have only met one other person who was so quick and so warm in welcoming an ally." He gave a little corner of a smile. "You are very, very much like her."

 

 

 

Notes:

That poor kid is gonna have to handle a lot of traffic control and conflict management in the weeks to come.

 

 

 

L + 15 years 2 days, part 4

 

 

Ruth was standing, somewhere, nowhere, she couldn't tell. It didn't matter because Wynston was there with her, kissing her, his arms securely around her, his caresses as playful and wicked as they were the day he had first held her. It was impossible to hurt when he was here like this, and so without thinking too hard about why, she poured herself into it. She ran a hand through his hair, down around his neck and arm, thrilling to his touch. It was a surprise to realize that her hand at his back gripped a lightsaber.

 

Surprising, but it had to happen this way. "I'm sorry," she murmured against his lips.

 

He stroked her hair. "Don't," he said. "Ruth, if you can hear me, don't do this. You're being controlled. This isn't you. Fight it."

 

"Wynston, I have to." She squeezed her eyes shut and kissed him; her saber was still ready at his back, angled to kill him without piercing through to her.

 

He hugged her tighter and took a long while to return her kisses before pulling away. "Stop," he whispered into the space between them. "I love you."

 

"I love you, too." She slid one hand up, mussed his hair in that way he still pretended annoyed him. "But I have to do this."

 

She activated her saber. She chose to, for some reason, and Wynston went cold in her arms.

 

Nothing else happened around her. She dropped her saber, held Wynston's heavy head against her shoulder. It hurt, everywhere, everything. It hurt so much she could barely think. Nothing else happened; no one else came. It was all her.

 

 

 

 

L + 15 years 3 days, part 1

 

 

 

Both Ruth and Quinn were up when Colrand got up for breakfast. Surprisingly, they were in the same room, and talking to each other.

 

Both of them looked up to Colrand. "Good morning," he said.

 

"Good morning, Cole," said Ruth. "It looks like I'll be leaving on Quinn's command ship today. I'm afraid we don't have a lot of information on the assignment, but I'll be in touch."

 

"I…" So Quinn hadn't mentioned it. "I was wondering if I could come with you for this one."

 

She immediately turned to Quinn, her smile vanishing. "Your idea?"

 

"Mine, Mom," Colrand hurried to say, before the situation could get worse. "I don't want to be stuck here for this. I don't even know when you'll be back. Please."

 

"The Tenacity is defensible, my lord," said Quinn. "He would be in very little danger there."

 

Ruth considered. For a while. Finally she shook herself and said "Cole, that's not a good idea."

 

"Do I have to watch both of you walk out on me?"

 

She looked like he'd slapped her. "No. No, I…" Her throat worked for a moment. "I guess I would have the chance to keep an eye on you. All right." She stood. "Pack for an extended stay."

 

So he did. He accompanied Ruth and Quinn to the spaceport where she kept a private hangar; the Fury opened at a signal from Ruth. Quinn hesitated at the base of the ramp, scanning the ship with a thoughtful look.

 

"Father?" prompted Colrand.

 

"It has been some years since I set foot on a Fury-class vessel," he said quietly.

 

"But you lived here for a while before, right? With Mom?"

 

"Yes." He got moving, following Ruth onto the ship and through to the bridge while speaking to Colrand. "I lived here and operated, maintained, and piloted the ship." He came to rest on the bridge and looked around. His expression was a little wide-eyed; he seemed younger here.

 

Cole looked around, too, even though he already knew the place. "So you piloted actual stuff. Instead of, you know, point A to point B. Was this in many battles?"

 

"Several, I should think," Quinn said with a small smile.

 

"Hard to think of this old thing as a real fighter. Mom just drives it around."

 

"It isn't so old. And this vessel was top of the line when it was assigned to your mother."

 

"I've kept it upgraded," Ruth said suddenly. "Her components are up to date and better experts than me tell me she's fit to fight."

 

Colrand blinked. "But…why? You don't even use it except to commute."

 

"Just in case." She quirked a little smile. "Weren't expecting that, were you? Would you like to see what she's capable of?"

 

"I'm not sure I believe you otherwise."

 

Ruth looked from Quinn to Colrand and back. "I never do show Cole anything exciting when it comes to piloting. If you want to put her through her paces, there's fuel to spare. And some time."

 

Colrand watched eagerly. Quinn gave Ruth a troubled look, but then caught Colrand's expression and collected himself. "As I said, it has been some years."

 

Ruth ignored that and headed to the main pilot's console. "We've got all the standard training sims, of course. The Aurek point defense–"

 

"The Aurek point defense is for Academy freshmen," Quinn said stiffly, and paced over to take the pilot's seat. At a tiny gesture from him Ruth backed off. He started to work. "My lord, if you would bring up the copilot display for Cole's benefit." His hands flew across the console, bringing up some glowing display and triggering a subtle whine from the engines. "Cole, buckle up once you're situated. The acceleration during combat cannot be compared to anything you experience in normal operation."

 

This was more like it. Colrand settled in the copilot's chair and tugged out and fastened the safety harness he'd never bothered using before. Ruth had brought up a displayed synthesis of the space around them and some simulated obstacles in the way; now she was fussing over his harness, tugging at individual buckles with an expression of something approaching fear.

 

"Mom, I'm fine," he grumbled. "If you go much tighter I can't breathe."

 

"Keep your head back," she ordered. "I know the impulse is to lean forward to see things, but for stars' sake when we're in a maneuver just keep your head back against the seat. I don't want you breaking your own neck."

 

"I'm not gonna break my own neck."

 

"I'm not going to break my son's neck," muttered Quinn from his station.

 

Ruth made a distinctively motherly face and headed to a chair of her own. "Just a moment while I set the guns to training mode; this close to Dromund Kaas I'd hate for us to misfire and actually hit something."

 

Colrand blinked. "You're gonna gun?"

 

"Someone's got to," she said, strapping herself in. "I used to do this all the time. The Force turns out better than a targeting computer once you know what you're doing."

 

"She would have been a credit to any squadron in the fleet," added Quinn. And, quietly, "If she had applied herself."

 

"I was busy with other things, Quinn." She didn't sound annoyed, exactly. Colrand couldn't place the tone of her voice.

 

"I know," said Quinn. He was still brisk. "Sith aren't numerous enough for us to spare them in any capacity so pedestrian as gunnery."

 

Colrand's display changed slightly. A targeting reticule blinked into being. Ruth called across the bridge: "Lower control stick, Cole, swing it up and toward you. Squeeze the big red button along with the trigger to fire. I'll grab the secondary turret." She grinned across at him. "Let's see what you can do."

 

Quinn picked up. "Colrand, the enemy in this simulation is a Republic fighter wing and minefield, with one pass by a frigate. As a rule you'll want to fire at the threat with the greatest power-to-structural ratio; given the manufacture of these specific adversaries, you'll want to clear our path through the mines, then the frigates' turrets if any are in range, then the fighters, and finally any remaining mines."

 

"Quinn, don't overload him."

 

"Mines for a path," repeated Colrand, eager to get it right. "Then turrets when the frigate comes up, then fighters. I want to hit what's hitting me hardest and I want to knock out the weakest such targets as fast as I can to cut incoming fire before I go for the sturdy ones."

 

"Exactly," said Quinn. He sounded satisfied. "Ready?"

 

"Yeah," said Colrand.

 

"On your mark, my lord."

 

"Have at it, captain."

 

The ship jumped so hard Colrand's first thought was that they were going for hyperspace. A couple of the stationary bright points on his opening sim view immediately started streaking towards him.

 

He took a couple of experimental shots, saw bright red simulated fire streaking from the ship into the distance. A tooth-rattling turn spun his perspective around – head back, head back – and brought more targets into sight.

 

His senses were on fire trying to keep up with the ship's wild motion. He was taking out targets at a decent rate, he thought, but they kept coming. He felt his will glancing off Ruth's a few times while they flew, their intents overlapping on one target and hers instantly flying away to something else, leaving him free to fire. Gradually he also started sensing things about Quinn's plans. It gave him the chance to anticipate those insanely sharp maneuvers while he was placing shots. Only a stab of neck pain reminded him to put his head back; there was too much else to think about, too much to try to perceive at once.

 

The sim fighters finally stopped coming, and Ruth and Colrand cleared the last of them out. Quinn carefully placed them back in a tranquil wide orbit. The moment Colrand heard Ruth undoing her harness he started unstrapping his own to hop out. "Wow," he said once he was free. "That was cool."

 

Ruth took a dizzy stumbling step that Quinn seemed about to intercept. He stopped in place. She, flushed, took a second to breathe.

 

"Those shots were remarkably efficient, my lord," observed Quinn. "No overlapping coverage with Cole's shots whatsoever. And you've never practiced with him before?"

 

"Force," she grinned. She was smug about it. For that matter, so was Colrand.

 

"Very well done."

 

Ruth pushed her hair back and looked at him, wide-eyed. Colrand had never seen her that uncertain while happy, nor that happy while uncertain. She inclined her head toward Colrand. "Thank you," she said to Quinn.

 

He bowed a little, then turned to Colrand. "I didn't quite reach this vessel's limits, but I hope that gives you an idea of what it was designed for."

 

Wow. "We're doing its limits sometime. Right?"

 

Quinn looked very briefly at Ruth. "Everything goes faster than it used to," he said thoughtfully. "But I believe I can arrange that."

 

"Everything does," agreed Ruth. "Um, I'm just going to let you two deal with the stress test."

 

"My lord, are you well?"

 

She grinned. "I'm fine. Just don't take any sharp turns on the way to the mothership." She beamed at Colrand, then suddenly frowned at Quinn, then beamed at Colrand some more, then gave Quinn a tentative smile, and then she very quickly left the bridge.

 

"That was really neat," Colrand told Quinn. "Thanks."

 

"That was my pleasure, Cole. I do not know how much time we'll have to spare in the weeks to come, but…" He looked over at the doorway. "I hope we can do more."

 

 

 

 

 

When do your reflexes slow down noticeably, anyway? Quinn's in his mid-40s here.

 

Anyway, this has nothing whatsoever to do with main plot. I was just thinking HEY, FIGHTERS. PEW PEW! Also stuff that Colrand just hasn't had the chance for yet in life, that would be fun.

 

Also, I'm due for a Wynston POV? Gah, stuff to do!

 

 

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When do your reflexes slow down noticeably, anyway? Quinn's in his mid-40s here.

 

Wookieepedia (*adds grain of salt*) has average lifespan for humans at 100 years. With that being the average (assuming that the average accounted for poverty in the human species throughout the galaxy) I think decline would start much later than we'd expect in real life humans (world average 67.2 years).

 

Also, FIGHTERS PEW PEW <3 that last family sequence.

Edited by kabeone
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Lasers! :D

 

Wynston, I'm getting around to you, I promise.

 

First: Second thoughts! L + 15 years 3 days, part 2

 

 

Ruth should have brought friends.

 

The Tenacity was off to some world on the Outer Rim to secure some ancient fortress. Ruth couldn't watch over Colrand full-time; she had some heavy-duty Force meditation to do. She should've left Cole at home. He was so eager to be here. To talk to Quinn, mostly. The man wasn't charismatic enough to win anyone away from anything, but still, Cole took to him far faster than he should have. There was a reason Quinn had been banished.

 

It would pass. Cole would hear the good things and observe the bad things – he was a smart boy – and Quinn couldn't poison him that quickly.

 

No. Even if the poison never set in, there was the shiv. Cole didn't believe that part, not really, not as applied to himself. She should have brought friends to watch over him, or else left him at home.

 

He was just so happy.

 

And Quinn, she couldn't be near him. She wanted things civil on the job, didn't like to make things hard for those she had to work with. But civil with him, letting him do what he wanted, letting him do what she wanted, was…

 

Dammit, the bastard tried to kill you. He faced you down and shot at you, repeatedly, voluntarily, and he still doesn't think he did anything wrong. And yet, if you confront him about it he'll just throw Wynston in your face...dammit.

 

She probably shouldn't have done anything that resulted in a pounding heart and butterfly-filled stomach while in a room with him. It was confusing.

 

Could she get Pierce on board? The leader of her guard had every reason to be at her side. He didn't really have a lot in common with Cole, not enough to interact with him like Wynston did, but any guard was better than none. Jaesa had her own matters to attend to. Vette was out stars only knew where. Wynston was gone. It was up to her to guard her son. They would try to use him against her.

 

Would they? Quinn was as glad to meet Cole as Cole had been to meet him. She wanted to believe he could love Cole, even if he hadn't loved her.

 

No. Quinn was capable of doing harm to anyone to extract what he thought was required.

 

She should have brought friends.

 

She headed out to the bridge, where Quinn was overseeing operations and Cole was watching at his side. "Cole," she called. The man and the boy turned. "Come on, I've got a Force technique I'd like you to work on." It didn't matter whether he had the power to make this kind of Force shield stick against a major opponent; the practice would be good for him.

 

Cole walked to her side and she smiled encouragingly at him. She had said he could meet Quinn when he was old enough to defend himself. He wasn't quite there yet. She had to do something.

 

 

Edited by bright_ephemera
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Oh, it's all getting so exciting! :D I keep trying to predict what will happen and I just don't know... I can't wait. I love the Quinn/Cole interactions, it's interesting to see how they react to one another. I think the differences between Cole and Rylon are very apparent here. Cole's such a nice kid, I hope things turn out okay for him. :)
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L + 15 years 4 days

 

 

 

"All right," said Larr Gith. "I have to know. What is it you do in your spare time?"

 

Orphea looked up from the console. "Spare time?" she said blandly.

 

"Yeah. You know. While you're standing around waiting for the heavy hitters to get back to you?"

 

Orphea cleared her screen. "I have correspondence. Research for upcoming jobs. Reports on what else is going on around the galaxy."

 

"Let me rephrase. Time off. For fun. You don't actually work every minute you're not sleeping."

 

"Of course not, I take refresher breaks." Orphea gave Larr Gith a little smile. "I go out for drinks when my friends are in town. Sometimes I even talk about not-work."

 

"Drinks? Thrilling." Larr Gith waggled a finger in a sarcastic impression of banner-waving.

 

"Nothing stronger, thanks. Spice and I don't get along. We had a long conversation about it once, it turned out to be both painful and expensive with very little long-term benefit." A lie, the claim that Orphea had had any lasting acquaintance with spice, but it might set Larr at ease.

 

"You really worry about the long term 24/7," the blonde said flatly.

 

"That's my job."

 

"Again with the job! Spare. Time. Stars, you are worse than the Jedi."

 

That was an accusation Orphea didn't hear much of. She socialized on the job all the time, if that counted. Any time she had away from the main mission she usually spent handling reports remotely. Or catching up with other agents on the Aegis, staying in touch. On the rare occasions she had a few days free and no major fires to put out it was always back to Dromund Kaas, its own reward. Perhaps not a thrilling social life on the face of it. Not if you didn't think work chatter qualified.

 

Ah, well. "What I'm hearing you say," Orphea said slowly, "is somehow Lord Scourge's company isn't doing it for you."

 

"Ooh. Did that finally show up in one of those reports you're reading?"

 

"I'm just not sure why it should be a problem. You had a very impressive operation with him during the last incident."

 

"Yeah, I think he gets off on 'impressive.' Doesn't make him any easier to talk to."

 

The more Orphea knew about the woman the more material she had to work with later; if she was talking, Orphea had better listen. Also they were in hyperspace and had nothing better to do. "Look, these reports were getting kind of dull anyway. If drinks aren't too un-thrilling for you I may possibly have a minor stash down the hall. We could commiserate over working for Sith."

 

"With Sith. I don't work for that jack*** no matter what he tells you." Larr Gith started moving with that swaying gait she only used when she knew people could see her.

 

Orphea kept the unassuming manner going. "Tell me about it."

 

*

 

"So then," Larr Gith said, her contralto voice still clear and controlled after multiple shots, "I just ran him through. All that effort and he crumples over a lousy lightsaber. It wasn't even mine, I had to borrow one off somebody on Corellia after the last battle."

 

"Maybe the ease of his death should have raised your suspicions."

 

"Oh, do not start. It was hard enough getting there. Ever try strolling across Kaas City? Now try doing it as a Jedi. Yeah. So sure, I know Scourge was paranoid, but I thought the job was done."

 

"The job generally has other ideas," Orphea said ruefully.

 

"No kidding. Ugh. Case in point? I'm tromping through Sith space again now. For the job. I know that Ruth is important to you, but, just the same, I'm making it the entire point of my career from now on to stop meeting Sith. Ever. Anywhere."

 

"I can actually sympathize." Orphea really didn't meet that many good ones.

 

"The ones I've got are more than enough, thanks."

 

"They're enough," Orphea agreed.

 

"Ugh." Larr flopped back on Orphea's bed, an action more distracting in its unselfconscious motion than anything the Jedi had ever done on purpose. "…stars, do you actually sleep on durasteel? This is horrible."

 

The mattress was downright cushy by Imperial standards. "I sleep all right on it."

 

"Worse than Jedi. Where was I? Right, killing the Emperor. I wonder if they'll throw me a party this time?" She chortled. "The Jedi Council kicked me out of their good graces, you know, after the celebrations were over and they decided my wicked ways were making them look bad. I got personally harangued by Master Satele Shan. Because they, like you, are all about the long term and the job at the expense of having half a gram of fun ever." She looked aimlessly around the ceiling, her amber eyes gleaming. "I bet they'll have a party anyway. I wonder if Doc would show up."

 

"Doc?" Larr wasn't one to talk about men in anything other than dismissive terms.

 

"Old friend, the guy who had 'very impressive operation' and was actually fun about it. We split a ways back, but stars, he knew how to party."

 

"You must've been very young then." Wasn't everyone for their first mistake? And this was clearly, regardless of what Larr might claim, a still-sensitive mistake.

 

"Of course I was, I'm not that old now." Larr Gith sniffed annoyedly. "He was way older and 'bad for me.' It was a lot of fun." She sat up fast. "And you know who walks back into my life instead? Overseer Sourface, that's who. You want to be helpful with your whatever the hell it is you do? Dig up a guy who isn't such a hopeless drag."

 

"Dating service. I'll have to take that back up to HQ, I think they'd like it."

 

"Not a service. Just me, I don't care what the rest of you people end up with." She smiled fiercely and waved her glass. "Anyway, I gotta say, for a half-*ssed Force-blind Jedi wannabe you've got decent taste in vodka."

 

Charming as ever. "I take only the best in my irresponsibilities."

 

Larr giggled. "Like me."

 

If the Jedi kept on solely defining herself as an irresponsible element, Orphea, Ruth, and the whole galaxy with them was doomed. Lectures wouldn't fix it; Lord Scourge and a long history with the Jedi Council had seen to that. "Exactly," Orphea said cheerfully, and offered her another drink.

 

 

 

 

 

I have this vision of Larr Gith wandering the BH ship with a little quest/conversation triangle above her head while Orphea ninjas around trying to escape notice. She's still talking! Somebody stop her!

 

 

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L + 15 Years 8 days, part 1: Quinn urges perspective

 

 

 

Some scientist had been apprehended by Republic troops on some obscure world. Ruth was to take their base and retrieve the man to drop off in Imperial hands.

 

She wondered about the real purpose. Wynston was probably fighting assignments like this. But she couldn't help with that, except by practicing the block that would hide her thoughts. For now, she followed orders like a good Wrath.

 

Quinn did the research to set up a plan, which he laid out with his accustomed brisk professionalism. Ruth checked the map and frowned.

 

"Conservative," she said. "Let me take this entrance alone."

 

"My lord, there are several dozen–"

 

"I'll take it. If what you said about potential reinforcements is true, you'll need the rest of your men blocking that gate over there."

 

"You never faced odds like that alone."

 

"I have." It wasn't that remarkable. "You just weren't around to watch."

 

He raised his eyebrows, but he didn't object further. "Very well. I look forward to seeing you in action."

 

"Go where you're needed. I can handle this."

 

*

 

She did, barely. Her focus never quite came together; twinges of pain kept intruding on her accustomed discipline. Her defenses were poor, her attacks too reckless, and while she worked with the Force it wasn't the steady source she was used to.

 

She was in pain, and the saber and vibroblade strikes that scored through her armor weren't the problem.

 

She made it back to the Tenacity once the objective was secured. Quinn took one look at her and beckoned her to a small medbay. "We should minimize the publicity of your mortality," he said, shutting the door, and then started efficiently ministering to her wounds.

 

"Right." It was good policy. And she was too dispirited to argue. She lay back and felt embarrassed instead. "That wasn't my best work out there."

 

He drew a line of binding gel down her wounded side. "You were nearly outmatched."

 

"I was distracted. That's all." She examined the nearest wall. "We'll account for that in the future."

 

He ran a careful hand over her side, then reached over for something to dab at the deep cut on her face. He laid his other hand on her cheek in what might be argued to be a steadying gesture. "Was it really that great a loss?" he said quietly.

 

She jerked her head away, her limited goodwill toward him vanishing. He wasn't talking about the near-defeat in battle. "Don't. You. Dare."

 

"My lord, the question is sincere. Now please, let me finish tending to you."

 

She scowled and held still. He smoothed the cut over and moved on to her wounded arm. "Your distraction carries a cost, my lord. You should know that your distress is misplaced."

 

"Shut up."

 

"I fear I must speak freely. The agent did you no favors. If you think he never had any detrimental effect on you, at least think of your son. How has he fared? What has the agent ever taught him of consistency? Of discipline?"

 

"Wynston holds to his principles."

 

"As interpreted by him alone at his whim."

 

"Who led you to that conclusion? Cole?" Cole, who so much loved to talk to Quinn.

 

"He only answered the questions I asked, my lord. Do not lay blame on him."

 

"I wasn't going to blame him," she hissed. "Stop turning him against my lover. The man I love."

 

"That is a dangerous word at a time like this." He finished with her arm and stepped back, pointing toward a box of wipes rather than seeking to finish cleaning her wounds himself. "If you wish to remain capable of functioning, it's time you dropped your attachment to someone who has done nothing but drag you down."

 

"You would know all about that, wouldn't you?" She didn't wait for an answer. She didn't just leave, even though she should. "It turns out I can't just switch off heartbreak. Knowing I didn't have a choice doesn't comfort me as easily as it did you, so don't start. You're here for the mission, like you always were. Stick to the mission."

 

"You will face extraordinary difficulty in carrying out the mission while that weight is upon you, as I believe was just demonstrated. And the weight doesn't go away on its own. Do you know how long it took to return to anything like acceptable work performance?"

 

"No. Tell me." This should be good. She had wondered. "Was it two hours or three?"

 

"Much more, my lord. At that time duty was all I had, and believe me when I say that I would not wish that solitude on anyone, not when…" He stopped, visibly attempted to gather himself. "If you let yourself doubt your actions, it will drive you mad."

 

"I'd rather be mad than be…" The look on his face stopped her from saying 'you.' She probably should have said it anyway. "What you were."

 

"Then should I apologize, my lord?" He met her eyes for only a moment before he turned away.

 

There was a long moment of quiet.

 

"What difference would it make?" he said. "I should have prevented it. I should have ensured that the need never came up. But my counsel failed, my predictions failed, my negotiations with Baras failed, and finally attending to the order that was given was merely the inevitable conclusion of every failure I had towards you." Another pause. "For that I apologize."

 

How could he sound so sad over something he had chosen? "You could have stopped."

 

"No, we couldn't." He turned back to her, pain etched across his face as the clear sharp source of the lines that had permanently set there. "That's the point. Guilty or not, you had to go through with it. All I can do is assure you that you, at least, were in the right, and if you cannot forgive yourself for having no choice, you must at least believe that you took the correct action. At least for you, you're better off without him. At least he is beneath you."

 

"You keep saying that. You're wrong."

 

His eyes flashed cold. "Do you think he misses you? Do you think he knows how? What comfort is he seeking right now, my lord, and with whom?"

 

Anyone. Ruth would never know. And it wasn't for work's sake this time. "It's natural to seek comfort after a hit like that," she said miserably. "Believe me."

 

"I see. And for you? What must happen when there is none to be had?"

 

"You are not recommending yourself."

 

"Not like that. I recognize that I destroyed that a long time ago. Nevertheless something must be done if you are to keep going. I hope you will accept my sympathy. And my advice."

 

"No, thank you." She slid off the table and touched her still-tender side. "Are we done here?"

 

"Yes, my lord," he said. And, resignedly, as his eyes skipped to her side and her arm, "You'll be fine."

 

She scowled. "Thanks for patching me up. I'm glad your current orders have you doing that instead of the other thing." Ruth walked out.

 

Still, his words stayed with her.

 

 

 

 

 

One on one they're not likely to get along. Just saying. But the lady's got a wound in need of some major disinfecting, so…what else are you going to do? Leave well enough alone? Nah.

 

"If you let yourself doubt your actions it will drive you mad" is, for Quinn, a pivotal line.

 

Rapid-fire alternation between the scenarios they're talking about unfortunately blocks any chance to focus on the real Wynston problem, namely, the Emperor. Keep her off balance, keep her off target…or, to look at it another way, use those same words to keep her off fruitless second-guessing and talk her out of destructive temptations. One or the other.

 

 

 

 

L + 15 years 8 days, part 2: Wynston looks ahead

 

 

 

Orphea looked in the mirror. She considered lowering the disguise for a moment, but she didn't really want to see Wynston. Sometimes that kind of check was reassuring. Sometimes it wasn't.

 

She also considered lowering the disguise away from the mirror. There were those aboard the Aegis who had made it clear that they wouldn't mind discovering and assisting a breakdown in Agent Wynston's self-control. Anything would be better than being stuck here waiting.

 

No word on the location of the Emperor's true form. No use attacking the Voice in its own location if it just meant that a new Voice would be made somewhere new, somewhere unknown. No safe way to contact Ruth; even a holomessage might be vulnerable to her tracing efforts, or those of her keepers. At least she wasn't pushing as hard as she might. She wasn't cutting through Orphea's people to get to Wynston.

 

That's what Orphea had for optimism.

 

Ruth had been cooperative, at least, about Larr Gith. More than Orphea might have managed, stressed as she was, as the target of that level of cattiness. Ruth was cooperative. She trusted Jaesa and Orphea's word, she knew control was happening, and she didn't want it. If she knew the rest she would be with them in an instant.

 

If she could know the rest, if she had that security in her own mind, she could be with them.

 

Orphea was used to adjusting systems and waiting for the desired result, but she usually had something to do while she was at it. She kept up with some administrative matters, moved here and there to make sure Scourge and Larr Gith didn't absolutely expect her presence at all times between field assignments, but her heart wasn't in any of it. Ruth and Cole were alone in enemy territory and Orphea couldn't do a thing about it.

 

Once Ruth could join the fight it would be different. They had done more than a few brief joint ops in the past, enough to know how well they worked together. When Ruth had an effective shield against the Emperor's questioning she could finally see the Aegis, know all the details Orphea had had to adjust or elide when talking about her work in the past. The precautions taken because an independent guardian of the Empire's people might not always be looked upon kindly by the master of the Sith.

 

Orphea could drop all that. Ruth could know, and she would love the resulting work. Cole would enjoy touring the Aegis. And the future, the moment Ruth became an independent agent, could be so much better.

 

Wynston could face Ruth. Thinking about her attack hurt at a visceral level he couldn't overcome by himself, but being with her would banish all that to irrelevance. And then…Ruth had offered, so many times, to let him stay with her. He couldn't be bound to service with one master and one blunt mission like she was. But if her master were gone, her mission statement newly flexible, there was a chance she would be willing to come with him.

 

Operating with a close partner was a wholly different experience. A different rhythm, a different set of considerations. How much more so, he thought, if it were a romantic partner he could trust. It might not necessarily feel stifling, not with her. If Ruth were willing, if she wanted to come with him…

 

First things first.

 

No word on the location of the Emperor's true form. No use attacking the Voice in its own location if it just meant that a new Voice would be made somewhere new, somewhere unknown. No safe way to contact Ruth. Nothing either of them could do right this minute. Stars, he wanted this to unfold right.

 

Wynston took out his vibroknife, a compact hilt with a thin double-edged blade. Ambiguous make, no distinctive markings, no serial number; an expensive internal generator made its active mode silent, but otherwise it was utterly unremarkable. Which was the point. Ruth had taken a playful delight in giving him the most completely generic gift he could use. It was the sort of thing he could afford to keep with him on all jobs.

 

She had told him, when she gave it to him years ago, that she didn't mind him losing it; that sort of thing happened in an active career. Something about the way she'd said it made it twice as valuable. He had done some highly inadvisable things in the past to preserve and retrieve it, to make sure it always made it home.

 

Wynston turned the blade over in his hands. Don't give up, he thought. Wherever you are. There is always a choice, darling. If you don't see one, you make one. And if they try to take yours away I'll bring you whatever it takes to prove them wrong.

 

 

 

 

Seriously, gift buying for men with this lifestyle? Has to be hell.

 

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"Don't. You. Dare."

 

Bite his head off! Bite his head off!! *wonders where these pom poms came from*

I'm kind of amazed, after all the stories featuring Quinn how much he still twists my gut into a pure desire to destroy his face. Quit trying to turn Ruth against Wynston, you cur!!

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"Don't. You. Dare."

 

Quit trying to turn Ruth against Wynston, you cur!!

Pretty much this. In most respects, I think Quinn has carried himself with a lot of dignity and has often seemed sympathetic since he re-entered the story, and I am personally quite inclined towards his air of noble tragedy (ahem!), but when he speaks this way about Wynston I honestly despise him. Wynston's actions to help save Ruth, for Ruth's sake rather than any great imperial agenda, constitute the biggest difference between this universe and RMC Prime and I honestly love him for that. In RMC, I was rooting for Ruth and Quinn to have a happy ending. Here, I am rooting for Ruth and Wynston.

 

It would be nice, though, if Quinn reigned in his poisonous feelings about Wynston, recognised that Ruth was better off with our dear chiss, and just focused on being a decent father to Cole.

 

I did feel a slight pang for Quinn when he listed off all the ways in which he'd failed Ruth, though. That was sad.

Edited by Estelindis
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