One hundred posts and over 5000 views! Holy bananas that's awesome!

Warning: This bit alludes to an act of sexual violence. There are no hard details, just broad statements, but I have spoiler tagged it.

Captain Malavai Quinn never ran from a fight. This was different. Completely different. At least that’s what he told himself as he scampered up the ramp as regally as possible. It was a strategic retreat from the forces gathering just outside the ship. He busied himself with the consoles on the bridge, searched for militarily significant battlegrounds to send the Wrath to, and otherwise kept his mind occupied. Jaesa was left to explain what she understood to the crew with Barnabus tastefully interjecting random nonsense as she started to divulge information she should leave well enough alone.

Syla welcomed Barnabus to the ship with open arms. If Jaesa could keep her little pet projects closer to home, Syla would have less to worry about. Even if her pet project included one Captain Quinn’s relatives. Barnabus was annoying, but he would annoy Quinn to hell and back and that was reason enough to keep him onboard.

When Jaesa was finished with her briefing, she led Barnabus to the crew bunks. The old man toddled after her with a hunch in his back and a cane in his hand, but he kept pace well enough for someone who had been dying recently.

“You can have this bunk here,” Jaesa said gently, placing his small bag of belongings near the bottom bunk across from hers.

“Does all the crew sleep here?” he asked. He sat down on his new bunk and sighed with relief. Definitely more comfortable than his old bed.

“My Master has her own quarters near the holoterminal. Captain Quinn has his own quarters as well. Vette, Pierce, and I sleep in the bunks here and Broonmark, who you’ll meet later, usually stays to himself in the cargo bay.”

“’Broonmark’? That’s a strange name.”

“He’s a Talz. I can’t understand a word he says, but he’s rather nice.”

“A Talz?” he asked in astonishment. “Amazing! I thought they never left Hoth.”

“He’s faithful to ‘Sith Clan’, meaning my Master, Lord Syla. She helped him get revenge and cleanse his clan.”

“Interesting, interesting! Tell me about the rest of the crew, won’t you?”

“Of course,” she said happily.

They talked late into the night.

As glad for death as he was, he still woke up gasping and sick to his stomach. He sat up slowly, fearing he would vomit if he moved too fast.

“Bad dream?” a voice asked quietly.

He shouted in surprise and moved as far away from it as he could. He stayed that way for a few seconds before his stomach reeled. He scrambled from the bed, tossing his covers and nearly knocking the owner of the voice over as he ran to his refresher. He vomited into the waste collection bowl for a few, long, painful moments before there was nothing left.

“Are you alright, lad?” Barnabus asked, peeking around the corner.

“Get out,” Quinn muttered into the bowl.

“Everything alright?” Barnabus asked gently.

“Get out!” Quinn shouted. He turned to face Barnabus, his lips curled in a snarl. The bitter taste in his mouth helped fuel his anger.

“I’ll send in Jaesa,” Barnabus said quietly, then disappeared.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it! Quinn shuddered and heaved again. He wanted so badly to purge the taint within.

Consider also that if I were in this position I wouldn't be sitting back wondering why Quinn had gone off deck without completing the weekly field-day roster or his 30 minutes of intense parade rest. I'd want answers.

You know, this is actually on Quinn's to-do list every day. The 30 minutes of intense parade rest, that is. That's fantastic.

When Jaesa tried to speak with him, he locked himself in his refresher and refused to leave. He was fine and just wanted some privacy, he told her. He waited for an hour after she announced she was leaving to vacate the refresher. He would not sleep for the rest of the night. He noticed, rather happily, that Barnabus had made himself scarce as well. How had he gotten into his quarters? Why was he there watching over him in the first place? It would be better if he avoided them all for a while. Get his head on mostly straight. Start taking his medications again. Reach some sort of mental balance while he glued himself back together.

He was mostly successful with avoiding Jaesa and Barnabus. The rest of the crew avoided him as per usual, with Syla speaking to him on occasion about strategy. Barnabus was slow and easy to dodge and walk quickly away from (he didn’t run thank you very much). Jaesa was a bit harder to avoid because of her persistent nature, but Barnabus often pulled her away to tell her some story about something or other that no one really cared about. For once, the Captain was thankful for Barnabus’ stories.

Everything was fine for a few days until Jaesa cornered him on the bridge one morning. With the rest of the crew pummeling down some resistance forces on Balmorra at the behest of Darth Lachris and Barnabus sleeping, he had no escape.

“You haven’t visited the medical bay in a while, Captain. Is everything alright?” Jaesa asked gently.

“I have been busy with other things, Miss Wilsaam,” he said stiffly.

“’Miss Wilsaam’? Are you okay?”

“I am on duty, Miss Wilsaam. I do not discuss my personal life while on duty.”

“Is this because I insisted on bringing Barnabus with us?”

“Miss Wilsaam, I do not discuss personal matters while on duty. Please desist with this line of questioning and resume your duties.”

He stayed hunched over his console, refusing to meet her curious gaze. She walked over to him, her curiosity getting the better of her. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder then jumped as he swiftly turned and backed away from her. He kept his eyes downcast.

“What is wrong with you?” she demanded.

“I am on duty,” he said stiffly. He moved around her and busied himself with another console.

“Captain, you can talk to me,” she said softly.

“Not about this. Please resume your normal routine.”

Jaesa sighed quietly. She’d have to catch him in the last minutes of his shift or he would disappear into his quarters until the start of his next shift.

“Good day, Miss Wilsaam,” he said politely as she left the bridge.

But it wasn’t a good day. Jaesa was beside herself with worry. She obviously had insulted him in some way. She couldn’t very well leave Barnabus to die even with the newly revealed past he and the Captain shared. Family was important to her. And Barnabus was awfully nice to her. She sighed loudly and hopped on to one of the beds in the medical bay. She couldn’t calm her mind like this. She fretted with her hands when she heard someone clear their throat. She looked up through her lashes, though she already knew who was there.

“I have some organizing I need to do,” the Captain said stiffly. “I would prefer to do so alone.”

“You had a dream,” she stated. “Barnabus told me you woke up, freaked out, and vomited.”

“Miss Wilsaam, I would prefer to be alone while I organize,” he said stoically.

“He said you were talking in your sleep. Saying ‘no, no, don’t do it, no’ over and over again.”

“Get out,” he said slowly.

Her head shot up. He was staring at the far wall, his face that annoying mask of indifference.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s bothering you,” she said testily.

He inhaled a calming breath. It wasn’t time. It would never be time to share this dream with her. With anyone.

“I won’t hate you,” she said softly.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Yes, you will.”

“I know what you dreamed of.”

He flicked his eyes to hers with disbelief.

“It’s… it’s my dream,” she admitted quietly.

“What?” he asked, his voice strangled.

“You’re not the only one I’ve dreamt of like that,” she explained gently.

She hung her head and began fidgeting with her fingers again. He moved slowly into the room. When she didn’t try to run, he stopped in front of her. He slipped off his gloves and placed them in his pocket. With slow determination, he placed his hands atop hers to stop her movements. She looked up at him, silent tears streaming down her face. At once he understood. She leaned forward and pressed herself into his chest. He raised his arms and brought them around her form in a loose hug. She wrapped her arms around his waist and forcibly brought him closer.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he said quietly.

“It’s okay,” she mumbled into his chest.

"No," he said softly, "it most certainly is not."

He held her tighter as she began sobbing openly. He was never good at comforting a distressed person, but he found himself trying his damnedest to let her know she wasn’t alone.

He held her tighter as she began sobbing openly. He was never good at comforting a distressed person, but he found himself trying his damnedest to let her know she wasn’t alone.

Aw.

Also, wow, hey, make that whole dream a little more wrenching, why don't you.

Aw.

 

Also, wow, hey, make that whole dream a little more wrenching, why don't you.

Just wrenching enough.

I can't read this thread with my eyes closed but I've been trying. guh

Aww, it'll get better. I promise.

Thanks for reading, everyone!

Jaesa and the Captain didn’t sleep that night. They stayed in the medical bay trading harmless stories: her of her childhood and him of his childhood how he had originally remembered it. They were interrupted when the Captain’s morning alarm chirped on his datapad. He excused himself to get ready for the day when he found himself on the receiving end of a hug. He tried to hug her back as non-awkwardly as possible, but he was awkward in such situations. Jaesa took it in stride and released him. He offered her a small smile and left to complete his morning routine. After he left, Jaesa went about her own routine, greeting Vette as she sat down to eat a bowl of her favorite cereal: Lightsaber Puffs.

“So, have you and Captain Cowlick kissed yet?” Vette asked nonchalantly.

Jaesa spat out her spoonful of cereal, nearly covering the Twi’lek across from her with milk and bits of cereal.

“Oh my god, Vette, what the hell?” Jaesa asked in a strained whisper. Grabbing a napkin, she wiped her face then the table clean.

“I’ve seen you makin’ the googly eyes when you think no one is watching,” Vette teased.

“It’s not like that,” Jaesa muttered, shoving a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. Damn nosy Vette.

“And you two spent the night in the medical bay.”

“I had a bad dream,” she said quietly.

“And Captain Cowlick put on his Comforting pants?”

“It’s ‘Captain Quinn’, Vette,” the Captain said stiffly, taking a seat next to Jaesa. He busied himself with new field reports and a ration bar, largely ignoring Vette’s penetrating gaze.

“I’ve never seen you eat before,” Vette said with astonishment.

“Contrary to popular belief, I am human,” he said blandly.

“No, that implies you have emotions and feel guilt over, say, murdering an innocent Twi’lek in a Cantina in a fit of rage,” she said sarcastically.

“Mm,” he murmured.

“That’s it?” Vette demanded. “You murder one of my people and it’s just another day for you?”

“It was a personal matter,” he said stiffly. “I suggest you drop the subject.”

Vette’s cheeks turned a light purple as blood rushed to her cheeks. Arrogant son of a b*tch. Who the hell did he think he was? She flicked her eyes to Jaesa who was remaining surprisingly quiet and mesmerized by her bowl of cereal. She hated conflict. Silly Jedi. Former Jedi. Whatever.

“I think you should explain yourself,” Vette said testily, crossing her arms.

The Captain flicked his eyes to hers for a brief moment before refocusing on his datapad.

“No,” he said firmly.

“Vette, you should let it go,” Jaesa said quietly.

“Not letting this go. He murdered one of my people in cold blood,” Vette said resolutely.

“Vette, you should really let it go,” Jaesa said a bit more firmly.

“Shut up, Jaesa,” Vette said angrily.

Jaesa shrugged and went back to eating. Vette obviously couldn’t sense it. A blind, deaf, lobotomized coma patient* could probably feel it. Vette grew a bit suspicious when Jaesa calmly went back to eating. Usually, she’d try to Jedi the situation and get everyone involved to calm down. She didn’t feel it until she felt eyes boring into her skull. She looked to find the strangely orange gaze of the Captain focused on her.

“What the hell?” Vette gasped.

“Hello, Vette,” Quinn said lightly. “How are you?”

“What is going on?” Vette asked curiously.

Quinn grinned at her. He liked surprising people like this. Vette continued to stare. Only Sith had orange eyes. Captain Cowlick – Quinn. Captain Quinn always had blue eyes. Shifty blue eyes, but blue eyes.

“You should learn to let things go,” he smirked. “Too much stress is bad for you.”

“Okay, seriously, what the hell?”

“Vette, this is Quinn,” Jaesa said calmly. “Quinn, be nice.”

“You insult me, madam, I am always nice,” he grinned, flashing Jaesa his teeth. She rolled her eyes and finished eating.

“Why did you just introduce me to the Captain?” Vette asked, her voice practically dripping with curiosity.

“I’m not the Captain,” Quinn explained. At Vette’s confused look, he sighed and explained the differences between the two. By the end of it, Vette was more confused than ever.

“I think I need to lie down,” Vette muttered as she scooted from the seating.

Quinn nodded at her then jumped when Jaesa pinched his side.

“I wish you would stop doing that!” she whispered angrily.

“I wish you would keep doing that,” he purred suggestively.

She grabbed a chuck of skin under his ribs and twisted. He jumped and shouted.

“Fine, fine, fine,” he muttered, rubbing his side.

“Why did you switch?” she demanded quietly.

“Easier to explain. He wasn’t the one to do it, so he doesn’t remember it well. It’s rather fuzzy.”

“Well, I don’t like it,” she mumbled unhappily.

“Let me make it up to you,” he said gently. At her cross look, he threw up his hands. “Nothing untoward, I assure you!” She fixed him with a hard stare and kept her pinching hand at the ready. “Major Ovech is throwing an overly elaborate sixty-fifth birthday party for himself aboard the Dreadnaught he commands. It’s not for another week yet, but would you accompany me?”

“Is this you or the Captain asking?” she asked testily.

“We’re the same person,” he sighed. He jumped when she pinched him again. “Do stop that!”

She huffed and crossed her arms. Quinn smirked, slipped his arm behind her shoulders and leaned in. She sat stiffly as his lips stopped next to her ear.

“Would you accompany me to an oddly large birthday party for a sixty-five year old man?” he asked quietly.

Jaesa didn’t bother to suppress the shudder that shot down her spine. She nodded quietly.

“Excellent,” he said softly. He placed a small kiss behind her ear and made to leave. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and noticed his eyes were back to their normal blue. He said nothing as he headed for the bridge to begin his shift. Jaesa watched him go. He was so strange.

Notes:

Jaesa and the Captain didn’t sleep that night. ...(snip)

Can I change my answer to [Grind Quinn into a fine paste and sell to Lightsaber Puffs factory as filler]?

Can I change my answer to [Grind Quinn into a fine paste and sell to Lightsaber Puffs factory as filler]?

Grind Quinn but leave the Captain alone.

Poor Vette.

Teeheee.

Can I change my answer to [Grind Quinn into a fine paste and sell to Lightsaber Puffs factory as filler]?

You want Jaesa to eat me? That's naughty.

Back to your cage, Quinn!

Grind Quinn but leave the Captain alone.

Finally, someone on my side.

You're the same person...

That would make things difficult...

Yes. Yes it would.

I wonder if some cereal company has any idea how much product they'd sell if they called it "Lightsaber Puffs"?

I'd buy the hell out of those!

Jaesa, what the heck dude!?

I like cereal...

So meta... Thanks for reading everyone!

The bridge was his second home. The place he felt most at ease and comfortable during his working hours. This would be the perfect place to speak with the Captain. He considered it his territory and would feel a bit safer speaking with the one person he avoided most. Syla sought him out on the bridge for those reasons. That and dealing with a Captain who would just as soon faint as he would talk to her grated her nerves on the best of days. She realized, of course, that she had put that fear in him, but he deserved it. At the time, anyway.

“Captain, may I have a word with you?” Syla asked evenly. She stood in the doorway as non-threateningly as possible, which is rather hard for any Sith to do let alone the Wrath, but she tried.

He stiffened nervously and turned his attention from the six month engine report to the Sith Lord in question.

“Of course, my Lord,” he said, bowing slightly.

“Jaesa has informed me that you have invited her to a military formal,” she said calmly.

“This is true, my Lord.”

“Is this invitation extended to the entire crew?”

“I’m sure arrangements can be made with Major Ovech,” he said agreeably.

“When was I going to be informed of this?”

“I submitted my request for personal time three weeks ago, my Lord. You approved it within two days.”

“Your trip to Tatooine was not included in that request,” she said evenly.

“That was Emergency Personal Leave, my Lord. I submitted it as such and gave twelve hours’ notice of my imminent departure,” he said stiffly.

“You took Jaesa with you on that trip as well.”

“I assumed she cleared that with you, my Lord.”

“She did,” she nodded.

He tilted his head to the side in thought. She was obviously getting at something. “Are you questioning my relationship with Miss Jaesa?”

“Yes,” she said firmly.

“I am uncomfortable with this line of questioning, my Lord,” he said stiffly.

“I’m not here to ascertain your comfort level, Captain,” she said firmly. “What are you intentions with my apprentice?”

He stared at her for a long moment. He wasn’t sure himself. He liked Jaesa. He shared things with her he wouldn’t share with anyone. He felt oddly comfortable around her. She had literally made her way into his head. What was she to him exactly?

“Captain?” Syla asked impatiently.

“Have you discussed this with Miss Jaesa?” he asked carefully.

“I am asking you of your intentions, Quinn.”

“I consider her a friend, my Lord.”

“If your intentions are only friendship, why did you invite her to such an event?” Syla asked evenly.

The Captain tilted his head to the side again. There was the heart of her questioning. She obviously thought he was luring Jaesa into a romantic situation and sought to protect her apprentice.

“I was given the option of bringing a companion, I selected Miss Jaesa. I am unsure of what the issue is, my Lord,” he said stiffly. He shifted his feet to relieve some of the tension building within him. The conversation had been going on for several minutes now and he was reaching his limit. If Syla noticed it, she didn’t care. “I should return to my duties, my Lord.”

Syla narrowed her eyes at him. She couldn’t tell if he was more uncomfortable with her questions or with her being in the room. Probably a combination of the two. He shifted again and tugged his collar. Limit reached.

“Contact Ovech and make arrangements for the entire crew to attend,” she said evenly.

“Yes, my Lord,” he said, bowing a bit gracelessly.

Syla headed from the bridge straight to the medical bay where Jaesa spent most of her days meditating. She knocked lightly on the frame.

“Jaesa?” Syla asked quietly.

The woman on the floor broke her trance and turned her head to the door. “Hello Master,” she said happily. “What can I do for you?”

“What is your relationship with Captain Quinn?” Syla asked gently.

“He’s my friend,” Jaesa replied without pause. “Why?”

“He’s not… making any moves on you is he?”

“’Making moves’? What does that mean?”

“Do we need to have the talk again?” Syla asked wryly.

Jaesa blushed furiously. “No, please no,” she insisted.

“I think we do,” Syla said lightly. “You see, when a man likes a woman…”

Jaesa slapped a palm to her forehead. This had to be what hell was like.

Notes:

 

 

 

Jaesa blushed furiously. “No, please no,” she insisted.

 

“I think we do,” Syla said lightly. “You see, when a man likes a woman…”

 

Jaesa slapped a palm to her forehead. This had to be what hell was like.

 

 

No just parental guidance

This one turned out rather dialogue heavy.

Nothing wrong with that! Of course, Force knows I'd be the last person to take issue with an excess of dialogue...

I'm very interested to see what happens next. The plot thickens!

No just parental guidance

A Sith giving "The Talk"? I don't know if I could trust their version... It would be infinity times better (or worse... depending) than the Jedi version... lol

Nothing wrong with that! Of course, Force knows I'd be the last person to take issue with an excess of dialogue...

 

I'm very interested to see what happens next. The plot thickens!

I'm a dialogue writer. Always have been. Maybe I'll just start calling myself Character Driven. Sounds better than "I write conversations better than details".

EDIT: Forgot to thank everyone for reading!

Almost 6000 views!! In celebration, here's a longer piece. Just for you. All of you. But not you. Just you.

The Sith version of “The Talk” and the Jedi version of “The Talk” were on opposite ends of the spectrum. One preached “Don’t do it” while the other preached “Do it all the time. Everywhere. Here’s a book on positions!”

“And that’s only after the fourth or fifth date,” Syla explained. “Now, after that you can do all kinds of stuff!”

“Master,” Jaesa mumbled unhappily. “For the love of the Force, stop. I know about sex and dating. Please, for the love of the Force, stop.”

“Oh, fine. I made up half that stuff anyway,” Syla huffed. “What do you and the Captain do in here, anyway?”

“We talk.”

Syla raised a skeptical brow and put her hands on her hips. “I’m serious, Jaesa.”

“I am, too,” Jaesa said softly, but firmly. “Does it bother you?”

Syla never kept their failed romance a secret or her use of Pierce for relief. She was the one to halt their romance, not him. She had no hard feelings or any feelings. Or so she convinced herself. And it worked for a time, until the Sith in the Captain came marching forth, Force a-blazing, and claimed her mouth possessively.

“It does bother you, doesn’t it?” Jaesa asked calmly.

Syla snapped from her thoughts. “No.”

“That wasn’t very convincing,” Jaesa said blandly.

“Do you want me to shoot lightning or something?” Syla asked crossly.

“I don’t see how lightning would make you more convincing.”

“It’d make you stop asking stupid questions.”

“Now we both know that’s just not true,” Jaesa said lightly.

Syla barked a laugh. “Let me know if he tries anything. I’ll make him think the Transponder Station was a vacation in Kaas City.”

“I think one curse on my genitals was enough, don’t you?” Quinn asked casually.

Syla turned to face him. Jaesa peeked around Syla’s legs. On visual inspection, it was Quinn and not the Captain currently in control. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets and that annoying semi-smirk he always kept on his face. Quinn noticed her peeking and gave her a wry smile. She quickly stood and dusted herself off. She stood just behind Syla just in case.

“I wouldn’t bother with a curse, I would slice them clean off,” Syla said offhandedly.

“That’s not very nice,” he responded blandly.

“I never claimed to be nice.”

“Did you need something, Quinn?” Jaesa asked.

“Two things,” he said, holding up two fingers. “First, Lord Syla, please do not harass the Captain during his shift.” He put down his middle finger and held up his index. “Two, Miss Jaesa, do you know how to dance?”

“That was far from harassment,” Syla said angrily.

“We’re not on you now,” he said dismissively. “Miss Jaesa. Dancing, do you know how?”

Syla bristled. Yes, this Quinn certainly liked pushing her buttons. Better not give him the satisfaction of seeing her affected by his antics. She cleared her face of emotions. He really wasn’t focusing on her, but, rather, the woman behind her.

“Don’t harass my apprentice,” Syla said in warning.

“I didn’t corner her in the med bay and ask her, unlike some people,” he shot back snappily.

“Watch your tone.”

Quinn rolled his eyes. “I have no quarrel with you,” he sighed. “Jaesa, you haven’t answered my question.”

“No, I don’t know how to dance,” she answered quietly.

Quinn clapped his hands together and said, “Excellent. I shall teach you. I’ll be back in an hour.” Then he turned to leave.

“Wait,” Jaesa said. He stopped, but did not turn to face her. “Will it be you or the Captain?”

He grinned at her over his shoulder. “We’re the same person.” And he left.

“That wasn’t very helpful,” Jaesa muttered.

“Watch yourself around him,” Syla said quietly.

“The Captain wouldn’t hurt me,” Jaesa said firmly. “Excuse me, Master, I should go prepare.”

Syla watched Jaesa leave quietly. It wasn’t the Captain that worried her. It was this alternate version of him that unnerved her.

Quinn was quite graceful and sure in his movements. He was endlessly patient and happy to repeat himself several times while Jaesa adjusted herself accordingly. Jaesa was a quick learner, which helped matters on both ends. Fewer frayed nerves and squished toes. It also probably helped that Barnabus was watching the two glide around the galley. Syla had asked him to watch the pair, knowing the old man could pull Quinn away in an argument rather quickly. It was something that bothered Barnabus. He could barely speak to his grandson. He wanted so desperately just to talk to him.

“You’re a fast learner, Miss Jaesa,” Barnabus said happily.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly as Quinn spun her out then curled her back into his chest. “It helps to have a great teacher.”

“I’m sure it does,” Quinn murmured.

“I taught Quinn how to dance,” Barnabus said proudly. “It was rather awkward for him for a time.” He smiled fondly at the memory.

“I haven’t forgiven you, Barnabus,” Quinn said evenly. “But,” he paused and spun Jaesa, “I am beginning to understand.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Barnabus said quietly.

“I’m what keeps you alive,” Quinn said calmly.

“Yes.”

“We’ll discuss this later,” Quinn said firmly.

Jaesa gave him an imploring look which he handedly ignored.

“Can I talk to the Captain?” she asked quietly.

“We’re the same person,” he murmured.

“You are not. You’ve made that distinction several times.”

Quinn gave her an unreadable expression. “I thought you of all people –” he stopped himself with great effort. “Never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said quietly, closing his eyes. When he opened them again his eyes were back to blue.

“What was he saying?” Jaesa asked insistently.

“I,” he emphasized, “was saying nothing,” he finished stiffly.

Jaesa forcibly stopped their dance and pushed away from him. He let her go and dropped his arms to his sides.

“You thought I of all people should what?” she asked firmly.

“Nothing, Jaesa,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

He turned on his heel and left without another word. Jaesa moved to follow him when Barnabus cleared his throat rather loudly. She turned to him with a frown that turned to a small smile when he patted the seat next to him. When she sat down next to him, he placed a fortifying hand on her shoulder.

“Here’s what he meant to say, dear: the Captain and Quinn are the same person. He is Captain Malavai Quinn. Whatever aspects of the Captain you see in Quinn, those are things he normally wouldn’t express as the Captain. You must look at the whole person, not just the parts.”

“I don’t understand,” Jaesa said quietly.

“It’s painful to him to admit he’s not fully in control of himself. He switches back and forth between the two versions of himself for balance. He’s found some and is slowly reabsorbing Quinn back into himself. But, instead of locking him away, he’s accepting the change. He thought you understood.”

“I don’t understand,” she admitted quietly.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” he said quietly. Jaesa listened quietly while playing with her fingers. “He doesn’t either.”

Jaesa stared at her fingers for a long time. Together, they made a fist strong enough to break bones. Separate, they were still strong, but it was as a whole being did they find meaning and true strength. Barnabus patted her shoulder then excused himself to bed. She bid him goodnight and waited until his cane stopped clanging on the floor to leave the area and head to the Captain’s quarters.

It didn’t take long for her to arrive and his door was open. He was pacing the floor, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Captain?” she asked softly.

He stopped his pacing and stared at her side long. “Do you need something, Miss Jaesa?”

“Are you alright?”

“No and I wish to be alone.”

“Then why is your door open?” she asked evenly.

“I have no idea,” he said unconvincingly. “Shall I ask the door why it is open?”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Take the hint and leave,” he said gruffly.

“You can talk to me,” she said gently.

He sighed and shook his head. How could he talk to her about something he was unsure of himself. She stepped into the room and reached his side in a few quick steps.

“Is my… relationship with you becoming… inappropriate?” he asked her quietly, keeping his eyes focused on his desk.

“That depends on what inappropriate means,” she said casually.

He turned to face her, his face that insufferably passive mask. “I like you, Jaesa,” he said quietly. “But I am… conflicted.”

“About what?” she asked gently.

“I suffer from frequent night terrors, I can barely be in the same room as Lord Syla, and I’m damaged in more ways than one. On top of that, my entire life has been a lie,” he muttered pathetically. “My friendship with you has been the only stability I have been able to find. I cannot risk it becoming inappropriate or I will have to sever our connection.” He paused and swallowed. “Please, Jaesa, tell me: is this becoming inappropriate?”

“No,” Jaesa said sincerely. “It is not.”

“Will you let me know if it does?”

“Of course,” she said quietly. “Anything for a friend.”

He smiled then, his face lighting up handsomely. “Thank you.”

“Anything for a friend,” she repeated.

She pulled him into a gentle hug and was pleased to find him relaxed enough to hug her back. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she was lying through her teeth.

“That wasn’t very convincing,” Jaesa said blandly.

 

“Do you want me to shoot lightning or something?” Syla asked crossly.

 

“I don’t see how lightning would make you more convincing.”

 

“It’d make you stop asking stupid questions.”

 

I do not have enough love to give this exchange.

I love dark verson of Quinn. He very funny and he disrespect his lord and he isn't by the book can of guy.

Also I love how Quinn has two differnt person in one named "Caption" and the "Quinn" you don't which one your get.

I love how you use Sith!Quinn to really show Quinn's capacity for being such a smug bastard.

...and yet he's somehow adorable despite his inherent jerkishness.

I do not have enough love to give this exchange.

I love dark verson of Quinn. He very funny and he disrespect his lord and he isn't by the book can of guy.

 

Also I love how Quinn has two differnt person in one named "Caption" and the "Quinn" you don't which one your get.

Dark Quinn is fun to write. He a jerk, but a fun jerk.

I love how you use Sith!Quinn to really show Quinn's capacity for being such a smug bastard.

 

...and yet he's somehow adorable despite his inherent jerkishness.

He is an utter bastard sometimes. He tries to hide it, but ooohhh boy is he a butt sometimes, lol.

Thanks for reading everyone!

After three months in the Kolto tank, he was stable enough for discipline. By order of Darth Lachris, he was to be strung up for all to see in the middle of Sobrik then publicly whipped. His screams would echo as a warning to others who dared disobey the Sith.

He was shirtless, shoeless and had his hands bound in front of him. His hair, normally perfectly coifed, was slicked down with sweat, sticking in clumps on his forehead. He stumbled as one of the guards pushed his shoulder with the butt of his rifle. His feet slapped on the cold ground noisily as he tried to regain his bearings. The same guard who had hit him grew impatient with his slow gait. He slammed the butt of his rifle into the middle of the prisoner’s back sending the man to the ground. He landed gracelessly and scrambled to stand up. The second guard helped him up with a quick yank then pushed him forward gently. It was the last bit of kindness he would feel.

When they reached the platform, he stumbled up the steps and stood under the bar they were to hang him from. The second guard grabbed his manacled hands and pulled down the magnet that would hold him in place. His arms snapped up and he lost his footing for a brief moment. He kept his eyes focused on the metal floor in front of him as Darth Lachris paced back in forth, expounding on his crimes and describing his punishment. Fifty lashes to the back, no pain relief, no kolto after, nothing. He would heal naturally and painfully. His scars would be a testament to his cowardice and failure. Had his previous Sith master not already punished him how she saw fit, he would have been hanged. Still just as publicly.

When the first lash fell, fire licked at his back. He arched and gasped and coughed, but did not scream. When the twentieth lash fell, he groaned in pain, but still refused to scream. Lachris was growing impatient. She wanted him to scream. She could taste his pain, his shame, his blood. She wanted to taste his pained cries. When the fortieth lash fell, he was shaking and trying hard to breathe, but he refused to scream. He could feel Darth Lachris’ anger pressing on him. It fueled him. Murmurs rose from the gathered crowd. He had surprising fortitude. When the fiftieth lash fell, he sighed in relief. It was over.

Lachris was not pleased. The Imperials she had gathered to watch his punishment were not trembling with fear. They were staring silently, reverently. One of the guards released the magnetic hold on the bastard’s manacles. He fell to the ground on his forearms and knees. His back was torn to shreds, but he was alive. In a staggering amount of pain, but alive. Lachris growled in frustration and walked from her seat to where he was huddled on the ground. She bent over, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and forced his head up. Her eyes widened when she found matching orange eyes staring back at her.

“You’re not Sith,” she hissed dangerously. “What trickery is this!?”

“You have horrible breath,” he responded shakily.

With a growl she threw his head down and circled to his back. “I will not be mocked by the likes of you!” she yelled angrily. She raised her hands into the air and shot arcs of lightning from her finger tips into the fresh wounds on his back. He couldn’t stop the scream that tore from his throat or keep from falling into unconsciousness shortly thereafter. It wasn’t as satisfying as she had hoped, but Lachris lapped up his pain with childlike glee. She signaled for the guards to carry him away. Her job was done.

The guards grabbed him under each arm and dragged him back to the base’s medical center. Lachris said no healing, no pain relief, no nothing. They felt he earned it. So they disobeyed and the rest of the base kept their mouth shut.

He woke up a day later on his stomach in a bed. He blinked and squinted against the bright white light overhead. He shifted his legs and tried to push himself up only to fall on his face in pain.

“Don’t move too much,” said a female voice next to him.

He slowly brought himself to rest his forearms and raised his head in the direction of the voice.

“Jaesa?” he asked roughly.

“Don’t try to talk,” she said gently.

“What –” he broke off into a fit of coughing.

“I said don’t talk,” she said reproachfully.

He gave her a strange look then hung his head. Syla must have sent her to report on his punishment. Was she in the crowd at the time? He didn’t bother to look at the sea of faces staring at him with rapt attention. Some were eagerly awaiting his coming punishment, others hated the fact that they had the day off and had been forcibly roped into watching this display of power.

“Why – are – you – here?” he stuttered painfully.

“I’m not here to mock you,” she said gently. “I was here on a diplomatic mission and saw you in the square. You weren’t you, though. You felt… different. What was that?”

He grunted and shifted uncomfortably. Jaesa nearly slapped her forehead. She walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a packet of lozenges. She held one out for him and he opened his mouth obediently. He eyed her wearily as she flicked it into his mouth. She waited several minutes while he dissolved the lozenge against his tongue.

“I don’t really remember what happened,” he hoarsely. “I remember the first few strikes, but after that…” he trailed off.

“You said something to Lachris that made her incredibly angry. She ended up shocking you into unconsciousness,” she said quietly.

He wracked his brain trying to remember what happened, what he said, anything about the previous day. He remembered nothing past the tenth strike. He felt something tingling at the back of his head.

Hello friend.

“Did you say something?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Jaesa said, confused.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

Don’t pretend as if you don’t know me.

“What the hell?” he murmured.

“Are you alright?” Jaesa asked gently.

Tell her you’re fine.

“Get the doctor,” he said roughly.

“What’s going on?”

“Get the doctor!” he screamed.

Jaesa ran from the room as he gripped his head and tugged at his hair.

You know who I am.

“Stop it!” he yelled through clenched teeth.

I saved you from a world of pain.

“Stop it!”

We’ll meet again soon, Malavai.

“No!” he shouted.

The doctor rushed in just as Quinn rolled from the bed shouting nonsense. The doctor tried to restrain him, but he was rolling and bucking and shouting and pulling at his hair. Quickly, the doctor sedated him. Slowly, he slipped into a drug-induced sleep.

Lock this one away, too. It’ll come back. Just. Like. Me.

The Captain stepped from the memory in a haze. Quinn was patiently waiting for him on the other side in the hallway that led to other memories.

“Jaesa was there?” the Captain asked quietly.

“Yes and no,” Quinn said soberly.

“Why didn’t she tell me?”

“She doesn’t remember it.”

“What do you mean?” the Captain asked calmly.

“What’s so confusing about the phrase ‘she doesn’t remember it’?” Quinn asked testily.

“How can she not remember it, you oaf.”

“That wasn’t Jaesa.”

“What?” the Captain demanded.

“Ask your grandfather about disguising tech,” Quinn said calmly.

Before the Captain could ask Quinn what he meant by that, the hallway started to melt away.

“Time to wake up,” Quinn said cheekily.

“You’re such a bastard,” the Captain huffed.

“We’re a bastard,” Quinn reminded him.

Notes:

Im confused was that Chaper meant to be a flashback or something.

The Captain stepped from the memory in a haze. Quinn was patiently waiting for him on the other side in the hallway that led to other memories.

It's not clear until the end, but it's a dream/memory. It's set up similar to this bit here.

I not going to tell how wriet when in dream or so.

You should write like this:

Get up,” he said quietly. “Mother… please… get up.”

“She’s dead, boy,” his father said harshly.

“But… but why?” the boy sobbed.

“Quit your pathetic sniveling or you’re next.”

That just my opation don't let get u down