Miriah was outside, sprawled in a deck chair, when Risha found her. “Stayed up too late last night?” Risha smirked, seeing the satisfied look on her friend’s face.

“Try most of the night,” Miriah answered, but her smiled belied any annoyance. “But Corso seems more energized than tired, he’s off out there somewhere,” she pointed to the pasture.

Risha pulled another deck chair over next to her friend. “Can I talk to you about something, kinda, personal?”

“Sure, but there’s really no way I can be any quieter, Rish, the man has serious skills.”

“Gee, thanks for that mental image, kitten,” Risha snickered, “but this is about me.” Miriah straightened in her chair, noting that her friend had an unsettled look on her face. Risha took a deep breath, slowly released it, and asked, “How do you know for absolutely certain, that a guy is The One?”

Miriah studied her friend. “You’ve met someone, Rish? Someone who makes you question your usual operating method? I’d say that sounds like your first clue.”

“I’m afraid I’m deluding myself. I see what you and the farm boy have, and I have to admit that sometimes I’m jealous,” Risha kept her eyes down, “I just, for once in my life, want something real.”

Miriah saw her friend’s obvious discomfort, and told her, ”I want that for you, Rish, cause it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world. I know my reputation is that I had a lover in every port before I met Corso, but the truth? I had only been with two others before him, but it was to my advantage to let the rumors persist. Kind of a shield, if you will, that didn’t let anyone get too close. Fortunately, Corso saw the real me through the illusion, but not all guys look that far. If you want this one to see the real you, you’ll have to show him the real you, not the persona you usually project.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, Risha pondering her friend’s words. “Maybe you’re right,” she finally said, “but who’s the real me?”

“Risha, you are a brilliant strategist and engineer, who grew up learning the ways the galaxy operated. You have a gift for seeing possibilities. And, you’re my best girlfriend.” Miriah grinned at her as Risha laughed. They sat in companionable silence for a bit, then Risha looked at her friend.

“Two, really? Now I have to look at you differently, I’d admired your ability to hit it and move on,” Risha looked at her, ”and now, only one for the rest of your life? Not sure I can do that.”

“Yep, only one, but oh, my stars, what a one he is!” Miriah grinned wickedly at her friend. “Remember that the next time you hear me in the night-- serious skills, I’m telling you.”

Risha jumped up, threw a pillow at Miriah, and stalked off, muttering under her breath, “Wonder if I can get psychotherapy via holonet.”

"Huh."

Andronikos walked over to Quinn, who was standing guard while Nalenne and Niselle made out on the bar. The clientele had cleared out; twin-sister makeouts might be hot, but twin-sister makeouts between drunk Sith Lords were more likely to be disastrous.

"Fighting with yours again?" said the pirate.

"To some degree, yes." The officer shrugged. "You?"

"Yeah. This working to make you jealous yet?"

"No. You?"

"Nah."

"It's expected behavior if we are out of favor and they are already too drunk to remember how combat works when they encounter one another."

"No kidding," yawned Andronikos. "Guess we should play designated drivers once they get bored."

"Or unconscious."

Jaesa walked in and froze, her eyes going round. "Master?"

"Oh! Hi, Jaesa!" Nalenne got back to worrying Niselle's lip.

"Master." Jaesa sniffled. "How could you?"

"Huh," said Andronikos. "They have a thing?"

Quinn finally scowled. "That...is a difficult question."

Malavai Quinn grew up alongside his Sith sister with all the dignity and grace the forgotten son could manage. If anyone asked him what it was like growing up with a Sith sibling, his answer would be a terse response of “Do mind yours.” His sister was favored over him in obvious ways. Whenever they occupied the same room, their mother doted on her, leaving Malavai to stew, cold and alone, and watch as his sister was praised and hugged and kissed at a whim. He grew to hate his sister when she was near and miss hating her when she was away. When she was away, it was glorious. No longer overshadowed by her powers, he was allowed to shine and preen and be praised for his hard work and accomplishments. He never could satisfy his mother, but his father was more than willing to shower Malavai with praises and accolades worthy of his achievements. An incident when they were children changed his view on his sister for the better and his mother for the worse.

During dinner with Essa, Vai, Darth Ravage, Nox, Talos, and Athra one evening, Nox drudged up a memory best left swept under the rug.

“Malavai, do you remember when we used to play Jedi versus Sith in the back garden?” Nox asked innocently over dinner.

Malavai stiffened in his chair and set his fork down. “Yes,” he replied.

“Aww, that’s cute!” Athra giggled next to him.

“Do you remember the last time we played it?” Nox asked with a smile.

“Most of it,” Malavai said darkly.

“It’s when my powers first blossomed,” Nox said wistfully.

“And when you succeeded in killing me.”

“Oh, you’re none the worse for wear now,” Essa said dismissively. “Do stop being so dramatic.”

“I died!” Malavai said through clenched teeth. “You nearly left me there. Had your precious daughter not shocked me back to life, I would have stayed dead.”

“So dramatic,” Essa murmured flippantly.

Malavai set his jaw; the muscles in his jaw twitched in agitation. He should be used to his mother’s careless disregard for him by now. “You should have been Sith,” she would say, “then I would love you as much as I love your sister.” And it hurt. Nothing short of becoming Sith would bring his mother to care for him. It was easy to blame Nox for her part, though unintentional as it was.

So when they were six, in the back garden playing Jedi versus Sith, he made his discontent known and attacked Nox with all the fury a six-year-old could. He was unusually verbose for his age and was better with a practice sword than she was. As she curled into a ball on the ground to protect herself, he let loose a torrent of emotion.

“It’s your fault!” six-year-old Malavai yelled at his cowering sister. “If you were never born, mother would love me!” He slapped at the ground near Nox’s feet angrily. She squealed and pulled her feet as close to her body as she could manage. “You’re a horrible person! You always rush into the room when I’m speaking with mother about the things I learned! You take her attention from me! You think it’s funny! It’s not funny!”

“It’s not my fault,” Nox muttered sadly.

Malavai let out a shout and struck the ground near her hand. “It is! I should be the only child worthy of such love! I work harder than you! I’m smarter than you! I’m the firstborn! You’re just a Sith! The only difference between us is you can work some magic unseen power and I can’t! It isn’t fair!”

“I didn’t ask to be born Sith!” Nox yelled angrily. How dare he! Mother was right. Malavai was a pathetic Force-blind who would never be of any significant use to anyone. He would never be as good as Father with his horrible attitude. He needed to accept his lot in life and get over it.

Malavai clenched his teeth and swung the practice sword with all his might at Nox’s head. She squeezed her eyes shut and braced for impact when she felt a tugging sensation in her arm. It felt good. It felt right. It felt strong. She reached toward the sensation and brought her arm up to protect herself. Malavai’s sword caught her on the forearm, but it didn’t hurt her at all. Then she heard a blood curdling scream and saw a flash of light before the sword drop harmlessly to her side. When she opened her eyes, Malavai was on the ground and… smoking. Slowly, she crawled to him.

Their mother rushed from the house at the sound of the lightning strike and found her two children, one on the ground, the other kneeling next to the body and panicked for a brief moment. When she realized it was Malavai and not Nox on the ground she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Mum!” Nox called to her. “Mummy he’s not breathing!”

“It’s fine dear,” Essa said calmly as she made her way to them. “Your power has finally made itself known! I’m so proud of you dear. You’re just like your mummy!”

“But Malavai isn’t breathing! That means he’s dead. It means I killed him!” Nox cried sadly.

“It’s the Sith way, dear. The weaker die at the hands of the stronger. I’m so proud of you!”

Nox looked down at her brother and sobbed. She didn’t mean to hurt him! Not like this. And Mother didn’t seem to care. Her brain went into overdrive. Everything Malavai had yelled at her had been true. Their mother didn’t care for him in the slightest.

“I’m not a murmurer!” she cried.

“Murderer, dear, murderer,” Essa corrected.

She stared at her mother with wide eyes. She was cold, so very cold. Nox thought as hard as she possibly could. She had to fix this. If a shock could kill, a shock could bring life. Why not try that? So she did. And, as luck would have it, it worked. Little Malavai’s heart started an instant after being shocked.

“Hmm, it appears you may be a healer,” Essa murmured to herself.

Malavai coughed and sputtered, but did not return to consciousness for two weeks. Nox stayed by his side all the while, ignoring their mother as she tried to draw Nox in for training. “Not until Malavai wakes up,” she would say stubbornly. Essa would roll her eyes, but indulge the child her fantasies. Malavai would never recover from a shock like that.

Malavai finished his dinner in silence, ignoring the conversation at large. After dessert was served, he excused himself quietly. He made it halfway down a hall before Nox stopped him. They face each other a few feet apart. Tension filled the hallway, driving a following Talos behind a pillar to watch in silence.

“You don’t still hate me for that, do you?” she asked him quietly.

“You were a product of your upbringing,” he replied stiffly.

“That’s not an answer.”

Malavai sighed quietly and ran a hand through his hair. “No, I never hated you for that.”

“You hated me to that point, though.”

“I did, yes,” he admitted quietly. “You more than made up for our mother’s bias by reviving me and staying by my side while I recovered.”

“Mother means well.”

Malavai glared and spat, “She never meant well when it came to me. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

“She wanted to raise you how you would be treated in the greater Empire by the Sith,” Nox explained.

“Yes, because treating your son as a lesser being is much preferable to raising him as if you actually cared,” Malavai said bitterly. “I have no idea what Father saw and continues to see in that woman and I don’t much care. She and I will never see eye to eye. Don’t defend her to me.”

“Who knows what anyone sees in anyone else,” Nox shrugged.

“I spoke with Talos,” Malavai said quietly. “He informed me you aren’t even remotely close to making your way into the bedroom.”

Nox blushed a bit and scratched her cheek.

“Don’t lie to me next time, Quinn,” Malavai said gently. “You’re my sister. I would help you regardless of our past.”

“That’s sweet,” Nox said, smiling.

“I assure you, I am anything but ‘sweet’,” he replied stiffly.

“Oh, you’re just a stuffed Thranta!” Nox closed the space between them and embraced her brother with a fierce hug. He hugged her back and smiled. He hadn’t hated her for quite some time. Perhaps time was all that was needed to repair burned bridges.

Nox pulled back and pushed at Malavai’s chest. “Now, go away,” she whispered. “Talos is just down the hall!”

Malavai rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. “Do tell me how things work out between you. I’m anxious to be proven right.”

Nox slapped him on the shoulder and turned him toward the end of the hall. He waved at her without turning around and left her to her business with Talos. He loved being right.

Apparently, all my Quinns must have a tragic past.

I picked my brother up from a rooftop gunfight on Nar Shaddaa. No, I don't know what was going on there. Sometimes with Kirsk it's better not to ask.

While we were picking up and hauling out, half a dozen blaster rifles still firing full rate at us, Jorgan confronted me and an uncommonly ragged-looking Kirsk in the holo room. "Sir, can I ask what we're doing yet?" He glared at Kirsk. None of us had forgotten the uncomfortable revelation of Huttball Nikto Fever fandom.

"Rescuing the pathetically needy," I explained.

"I see that, sir."

"That's all the information I'm running on. Ask him. Anyway, we're leaving now." I yelled up toward the bridge. "Hey, Dorne, I'll take over."

"I can drive," suggested Kirsk.

"Not a chance."

He followed me up to the bridge anyway. And stopped, and, right on cue, softly whistled.

Sergeant Dorne looked up, startled. Her eyes flickered to me. "Sir?"

"Sergeant Dorne, this is my brother Kirsk, who is going to leave you alone until he leaves this ship. Kirsk, this is Sergeant Dorne, and your harassing her would almost certainly end up as a demerit on my record."

"Ooh, incentivize me a little harder, why don't you." He smiled smoothly at Dorne. I whacked him in the back of the head.

"Sir," Dorne said uneasily, "a civilian's presence here is highly irregular."

"I never broke a rule that didn't need breaking, Sergeant. He stays." I stood aside to let her leave, then took her place at the controls. "Kirsk, where'm I dropping you off?"

"Uh, heat signature's a little high right now, um, anywhere. Mind if I lay low with you for a few days?"

"That really is a little awkward on an active-duty ship."

"Things are tight."

That was code for total desperation. "Of course you can stay. Try to behave. My superiors call, stay out of sight."

"You got it. So anyway, her. You've mentioned her once or twice…Imperial defector?"

"Yeah."

"Huh. And they assigned her to you? What the blazes were they thinking?"

"She's Havoc Squad caliber, they tell me. She pulls her weight, I guess." I rubbed my neck. The tension there was spiking. "Believe me, if I had the beginnings of a whisper of an echo of an excuse to get rid of her, she'd be long gone. As it is I keep getting dirty looks for mistreating her."

"Does she know why you hate her with a passion that's leaking all over the visible spectrum?"

"She's got an idea. She doesn't need my life story."

"I guess that's fair. To one of you. Explaining what it was like where you're from would be fair, too. To the other one of you. That's rough, brother."

"No kidding."

"Moving along. This one of those rigs where I have to sleep on the floor?"

"Pfft, no. Get Jorgan to show you a bunk. And don't piss him off, he's a biter."

"Like that's anything new." Kirsk grinned and showed himself out.

*

We were given a minor assignment elsewhere on Nar Shaddaa; truth be told, we were killing time until the next lead on the Havoc Squad defectors presented itself. I got up early on day three, received a minor mission via holo, went out to round people up. Passing by the mess I suddenly heard Kirsk laughing alongside this bright musical laugh that stuck me in place for half a second before I got a hold of myself.

I poked my head in and saw Kirsk sitting opposite Sergeant Dorne. Kirsk appeared to be in fine form. Dorne turned to me and the cheer on her face died. She recovered a fake polite smile a second later. "Sir."

"Sergeant." I nodded. "Kirsk."

"I was just telling your sergeant here about that time on Coruscant when for complex but very compelling reasons I was hired to impersonate a professor's assistant for one of their biochem lectures. Absolute worst stimchem trip I've had in my life."

"I've helped him identify two brushes with death he didn't even know he had had, going through that laboratory setup," said Dorne. "I'm not sure what to say about the safety standards of the Institute."

"I know what to say," said Kirsk. "Thank the stars I'm not an academic man." He finished off a glass of something or other. "Anyway, big brother, you after something?"

"Yeah, actually. I need Dorne in the field. Jorgan and Forex are already good to go."

Dorne leaped to her feet. "Of course, sir," she said hurriedly, and rushed past me.

"Well," said Kirsk, watching her go. "She's not terrified of you or anything."

"Terrified? Her? Nah. She's just really enthusiastic about orders."

"Whatever you say," he said, cool and skeptical.

"I gotta be out for the day. You sticking around?"

"No way I'm showing my face on this planet anytime soon. Yeah, I'll stay here, hold down the fort."

"No joyrides."

"Dammit, Vierce."

"Get your own rig."

"I did. It got stolen."

"Someday you'll have to fill me in on that story."

"Someday. Get a move on."

*

Kirsk greeted us back at the ship that evening with an elaborate Tionese spread which, a check of the comm logs confirmed, was fast-food delivery charged to my account. Delicious, anyway. M1-4X stuck around to chatter with the rest of us until supper was cleared.

Kirsk excused himself after a while and, with an unobtrusive gesture, signaled me to follow him. He led me into my own quarters and brought up the console.

"So I was being an irresponsible security risk because the antique file system you guys have on this ship is mesmerizing. I couldn't resist."

"Kirsk, if you compromised classified information you know I'm gonna have to-"

He raised one hand, typing with the other. "Nothing like that, nothing like that. I think. So I was skimming things and I spotted something wrapped up tight in some mad encryption. Imperial encryption."

My stomach flopped. "Dorne?"

"Addressed to her, though it's been sitting there eighteen hours and no one's opened it that I could see. I'm not sure she knows it's there yet."

"What's inside? Imp crypto's a specialty of yours, you must know."

"But of course." With a flourish Kirsk pulled up a little holo of a blond guy about our age.

"Elara," said the recorded message boy. "It's me, Aleksei. I…I hope you're well. It's been a long time."

"Boyfriend?" I muttered. Kirsk shook his head.

"I'm sorry to contact you like this, but I need your help. My men and I…we're as good as dead. We're on Nar Shaddaa – we were caught tampering with one of the Hutts' operations. We never dreamed the slugs would have so much security."

"Poor sods," mumbled Kirsk. "Poor, stupid sods."

"These Hutts are Imperial allies, Elara. There is no rescue team. We'll be disavowed and left to die. Please – you're my only hope now." His image vanished.

I tried to talk around the huge hollow space in my chest. "An ex in Imperial spec ops? I didn't even think of that one."

"Not an ex. I did some sniffing. Aleksei Dorne is her younger brother."

"A brother. Huh. You know if they've been talking?"

"I didn't have time to check. You know I don't do politics nowadays, but this seemed important."

"Don't say anything for a minute." Kirsk only went along with that when he felt like it, but for once he gave me space to think. "Enemy combatant, related to her, here. That's…not unexpected. Right? We had people with split families back home. Collaborators who had some genetic material in common with human beings. It doesn't…dammit, do you have any idea how hard I've been working to not fly off the handle at her?"

"No, actually," said Kirsk, "but recalling your history I can imagine."

"I'm trying to be fair! How am I supposed to be fair with something like this? I should hand the recording upstairs and go clear his whole squad out while they're vulnerable, is what I should do. But her…why would he call her of all people? She's neck-deep in Republic monitoring."

"Things got tight, and she's kin."

"She files reports when she talks to Imperial-sounding shopkeepers. Contact this big is…that's insane."

"Which may be why she didn't even open an Imp-marked message."

"If she's on the level, why not just call someone to review it?"

"Because that request goes through you. Did I mention she's terrified of you?"

"She is not."

"Vierce, you just found out she has a brother and your first reaction was 'hey, can I kill him?'"

"That's my first reaction to all Imps."

"Yeah. It's scary."

"I don't see what I can do here. The kindest thing would be to just lock this so she can't access it, pass it upstairs and let them clean it up, because if I do run across his people it's going to be blood."

"You could try capture."

"Since when do I capture Imps?"

"Since you suited up Republic? Think about it. Show up. Heartwarming family reunion. Grab some souvenir POWs. Everybody goes home happy except the Imps. That sounds practically ideal."

"Or show up, trap, get shot at, Blondie and Blondie skip home happy."

"I thought she would never try to sneak contact?"

"It isn't sneaking if you shot your way through your CO to do it." I ran my hands through my hair. "That's ridiculous, I know, so don't say it. It's just hard. Why'd it have to be kin? Remember when you were little and I told you Imps didn't have families, they just came out of evil spawning pools?"

"Yeah. I was very disappointed when I learned the boring truth. But think about this. Maybe it's legit, the kid's desperate, and we can win you a nice little resume buff plus major squad morale points by checking it out. And if they turn it ugly, well, you and I haven't sprung an Imp trap together in a long time. It'll be fun. But if this guy's for real, he has nowhere else to go. The Empire just shook him off."

"Why would we want them?"

"Because the alternative is executing your squadmate's brother?"

"I can do that, Kirsk. You remember."

He looked away. "Different times, Vierce. A scared kid who just got written off by the only boss he's ever known isn't really the same as a collaborator. This Aleksei guy never had a choice." He let that sink in for a little while. "You could at least hear what he has to say. And don't forget your own sergeant. If you and I got separated, with no real hope of talking again, and then a chance came up while one of us was in a tight spot, and somebody decided to withhold that chance, would you stand for that?"

"You know there'd be hell to pay. But unless these guys are miraculously ready to lay down arms, this'll be the mother of all awkward family reunions."

"That's why you an' me will be there. To keep it polite." He caught me before I could object. "I'm sure you and Sergeant Cannon are good, but you want a security man who knows Imps and knows how to stop you from doing something stupid, and the only person in the galaxy with both those qualifications is me."

"You realize I'm only even considering this because it's you asking."

"I know. So, you going to talk to her?"

"Yeah. I'll talk to her."

"Aw. You're mellowing, big brother. This just might work out."

"Do not get warm and fuzzy on me."

"Me? Nah. My only interest here is in looking out for the downtrodden little brothers of scary justice machines."

I left to find Dorne and call her into the briefing room, where I secured the door. "Sergeant, Kirsk brought something to my attention and I am very interested in hearing your explanation."

"I'm not sure what you're referring to, sir," she said apprehensively, "but I'll try."

I put on Aleksei's recording.

The moment his image appeared she went dead white. She held still listening, and looked to me the second it was done. "Sir, I didn't know. I received it just yesterday, I was debating who to go to for permission to open it. I wasn't just going to start viewing something that might be compromising."

"When's the last time you spoke to your brother, Dorne?"

"Over three years ago. Before I defected. I haven't…I didn't know what happened to him. I honestly never expected to see his face again."

"You realize the military interest in this target."

She flinched a little to hear the term. "Sir, I believe if I speak to him I may be able to convince him and his people to defect. If he's been abandoned as he says, he has nowhere else to go. I can talk him into it."

"Yeah. The possibility has been considered. And since I am related to the worst bleeding-heart in the galaxy, I'm willing to consider arranging a meeting. I will be present for any such meeting, but I'll let you do the talking until and unless there's trouble." Talking, after all, wasn't my specialty in that situation. I took a deep breath. "The peaceful solution is up to you."

She nodded slowly. "Sir, I, I wouldn't have expected…" Then she managed to meet my eyes. "I wouldn't have expected this opportunity. It means a great deal to me."

I nodded. "Yeah. But you know I have to take 'em in no matter which way they go."

"I understand. But I do believe I can bring Aleksei to our side. You won't be disappointed, I promise." She went to leave. When she opened the door Kirsk was right there. She jumped a little. "Oh! – I'm sorry. I, the leftenant was just discussing the message you found. I understand I have you to thank for the generous offer your brother made?"

"Me?" drawled Kirsk. "No, miss. I just spotted the incoming security question. Talking it over with you, looking for a diplomatic solution for your brother, that was all his idea."

"Oh." She blinked rapidly a bit while she processed that. Then she shot one last wide-eyed look at me and edged past Kirsk to leave.

"What was that?" I demanded.

He grinned. "You'll thank me later."

"I don't see what…"

"Oh, I know. But you will."

This one has been difficult to pin down and after five rewrites I'm still not sure I'm happy with it.

I do know Dorne would never approach Vierce for assistance in this personal quest. No way. It's too much like presenting your hand to a rabid Rottweiler.

Vierce: Trying to be fair. Trying to be fair. STOP MAKING THIS COMPLICATED, REALITY.

I'm about 70% sure that Kirsk isn't the canon smuggler in this continuity. I think these boys star opposite Ruth, and in that universe Vette is the smuggler. So Kirsk is kind of a freelance chaotic-mostly-good scoundrel. People still steal his ship.

I really need to have people talk Vierce out of his initial impression less often. Kirsk owns him, but he should stand up to everybody else more than he's been doing.

"What are you doing here?" Benedicta stood in the doorway, her aura filling it with malice. Rochester felt a chill run down his spine, but he continued unpacking. "Rochester, I order you to answer me."

"You're my sister, not my commanding officer." With the last of his academy effects removed, Rochester moved around the room, not looking at his sister.

"Mother would not be please if she knew you were here." Benedicta folded her arms across her chest, trying to take on a more commanding air.

"Mother..." He stretched the word out, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he turned to her. "Already knows I'm here, but you can run off and tell her if you like."

"You should be at the academy."

"I graduated." He pulled open a drawer and started to sift through the civilian clothing.

"No you didn't," Her tone was incredulous and it made him wince. "You didn't have a special graduation ceremony. I would have known, I would have been invited!"

"I graduated early."

Benedicta smiled. "They kicked you out, didn't they?" She walked into the room and slammed the drawer shut, almost catching Rochester's fingers. "Does mother know that you got kicked out of the academy? What do you think she would do to you? What do you think father would do to you?" She stood on his toes, radiating pure contemptuous delight.

"Mother already knows," He opened the drawer again but only stared at its contents. "And I know what father would do: he'd shove a shock collar on me and sell me to the quickest bidder, he wouldn't he even try to get a good deal."

"Do you want to know what I think?" She put her hand on the edge of the drawer, trying to catch his eye.

"No, but you're going to tell me anyway." He picked up a pair of socks and threw them over his shoulder.

"You threw it all away, didn't you? You are so used to being nothing that the idea of actually becoming something scared you, so you left. Isn't that right?" She peered at him, leaning in until her nose almost met his cheek. "You deserve to be a slave."

"Is that why you cut up my face?"

Benedicta merely laughed and left the room. Rochester packed his bags with a new found energy and left some hours later.

That would have been the last conversation the two had before Rochester left Imperial space, fell in with the wrong crowd and eventually ended up in Worst Day Ever. As it took him a while to recover and then... things happened... it would have been a couple of years before they spoke to each other again.

Today was her funeral. Reka Sidonja Iv Umrahiel. Varrel stood outside the Academy on Korriban, a dusty red sky above him, while the wind blew darkness through his soul.

A world full of tombs.

Not a one of them Reka’s.

“Request denied”

The urchin tugged on Rixik’s sleeve, “Hey, big brother, you lend me a few credits?”

“Scram, kid,” Rixik said without looking down.

“But big brother—“

“I said beat it,” Rixik growled, looming over the younger Twi’lek and pulling his blaster from its holster. The boy ran off.

“He did look a little like you,” said Gault.

Rixik downed the rest of his hot caf, “Hell, I ran that scam a hundred times a day. Besides, Twi’leks aren’t born. We’re assembled from spare parts, like droids. I don’t have family.”

“If you say so, boss.”

Rixik tossed a few credits on the table to cover the tab and stood, “Think I’m going to find someplace with cheap booze and cheaper girls and not wake up until tomorrow. You in?”

“Bit early for me,” Gault replied.

Rixik stared after the kid, “Not karking early enough.”

She clasped Corso’s hand with both of hers, “So polite in person too,” she said, ““I am Maathai Bilali, senior wife of Adoko Bilali,” she said with a slight bow, “. Welcome home, Kirya,” she said, “and welcome to your husband.”

Kirya broke in, “Since Dad’s busy, we’ll just go.”

“Go?” asked Maathai, “and miss your own tanasi’ine? No, you can’t go, Kirya.”

“Tanasi’ine?”

“Yes,” said Maathai, beaming.

“Excuse me, what’s a tanasi’ine?” Corso asked.

“Wedding feast,” said both women in unison. Maathai continued solo, “and celebration. You’ve married twice now without proper ceremony. You didn’t think your father was going to miss the opportunity to give his favorite daughter and her husband a tanasi’ine, did you?”

“Is this the same man who sent me a comm telling me that if I became a blind, spice-addicted beggar on the lowest level of the worst slum on Ryloth, he’d do everything to find me, so he could kick me into the nearest sewer? That father?” asked Kirya.

Maathai gently patted her daughter’s cheek, “Where do you think you get your temper from, dear,” she said.

August, 27 ATC - 16 years after the confirmation of the Wrath

3 months before the Wrath is called to kill Larr Gith

Ruth greeted Quinn at the door. "How was work? Two weeks always feels like a long time away."

"It does." He took off his jacket and carefully hung it up. "Talay won't be won with a central battle, but we're taking it one small victory at a time. The system was ours once. It will be again. How are things here?"

"Here? I've been in the field, mostly. It's going well. Hungry?"

"I ate on the shuttle home."

"Excellent. I get to skip to kissing you."

"You would do that anyway," he managed to say before she closed the distance between them.

"Well," she said between kisses, "this way" - "I don't" - "feel" - "guilty about" - "starving you in the process."

"That's considerammfmhmm." He pulled her close and let her set the pace until a pause came up. "I am a little tired, beloved."

"Not a problem. I actually - " she stepped back and tensed up a little. "I actually wanted to ask you something, something very important."

"Anything."

She led him over to the couch and sat him down. His expression was edging towards a frown by the time she started talking again. "This may sound nonsensical, but I was wondering if you'd like to get married again."

His frownward progress halted. He stared at her for a long moment. When he spoke his voice was perfectly clear and steady. "Yes. I just never expected you would."

"Hey." She laid her palm against his cheek. "We've worked hard to come this far. I am with you, all the way."

"How are we going to tell Rylon?"

Her face fell. "I don't know. I don't think there's a way he'll be happy about it, so it may be safest to present it as a fait accompli. At least he'd respect the decisiveness."

"I wish he would come to accept our being together...but you're right. It can't be a matter of permission or negotiation." He squeezed her hands. "What sort of ceremony do you want?"

"Simple. Very simple. Minimal. We can sign the paperwork, otherwise everything that matters is right here."

"We won't keep it a secret, though."

"No. Absolutely not." She twisted around to reach a side table, produced a small box. Opened it to reveal a pair of plain gold rings.

He let out a soft laughing breath. "You are an astonishingly impatient woman."

"Not impatient. Just prepared for every eventuality that I can arrange on short notice." She ran her fingertips over and around his hand, strong, smooth but for a few calluses on the palm and trigger finger. "May I?"

"Do as you will, my lord. I'm just trying to keep up."

She laughed, raised his hand to her lips to kiss it, slipped the ring on. "No conflicts this time. Just us."

He took her small scarred hand in turn, studied it. "I'll be there for you this time. Sometimes it feels like I've waited all my life to be here, with you." He set the ring on her finger and kept hold of her hand when he leaned forward to kiss her.

"I didn't prepare vows or anything," she said. "Just know that I'm yours. Now and for the rest of my life."

"May that be a long time."

"With us looking out for each other? It will be." She set one hand on his chest. "We're together now. And I trust you."

He shut his eyes for a second. "Say it again."

"I trust you, Malavai. I know we'll get it right this time."

"I will be worthy of that trust, Ruth. Now and always."

They kissed for a while longer, not infrequently sliding to touch the unfamiliar new shapes on each other's fingers. At length Ruth half stood up and pulled him to follow.

"I'm afraid I truly am tired," he murmured apologetically.

"So we'll sleep, dearest. I'll be with you."

Looking back, very little of this kind of affection makes it through to the existing RMC text. It's just that I concentrated on plot events for RMC, and every time plot happens, s*** hits the fan and she snaps out of affectionate mode!

There's that, and there's the fact that as I review my work I find that I'm overwhelmingly bored by happiness, and only get interested in writing when there are nigh-intractable conflicts and incompatibilities to struggle with. My husband would be most upset to discover this (...and see, getting upset is what drives interesting events, so therefore-- STOP THAT, O FOMENTER OF TERRIBLE THINGS.)

This was so bitter sweet, especially considering how it all ends. Ugh, look how happy they are...and then...then... Poor doomed love.

... Would you believe tears were not my intent? I found the scene actively comforting to write, because it reminded me that all of Quinn and Ruth's struggles did pay off, if only for a while. There was a time period when they were both alive, and in love, with shared personal and professional goals and the ability to freely recognize that they worked hard to get there. So yes, they could do something like a second wedding in which the vows consist of stating what feels not only obvious but inevitable every time they look at each other.

I always meant to have more scenes with Quinn in Timeline 3, in between Ruth getting psychologically battered by the likes of Larr Gith and Lord Scourge, but I had trouble getting it to flow. As of this scene Ruth has eleven months to live, but at least she will have this love and intent to back her up from here on in.

Oh I get that, I'm thinking more a long the ways of how she dies, thinking he's betrayed her and broken his vow...Granted they would have failed had she not been fueled by that anger and hate, but just knowing that's how she died, it's a little heartbreaking in contrast to how much they really do love each other.

I agree, that they have this happiness is a comfort and a joy to read.

Lucerna Nocturne was unlike any Sith Vette had ever met, though the list of Sith she HAD met was mercifully short. For one, she seemed genuinely upset when she had to kill her opponents, even if her victim was attacking her first. Second, and most importantly, she showed compassion and empathy. She never shocked Vette, and she took the slave collar off the first time Vette asked. She even showed honest interest in the Twi'lek's well being. That was why, on the long journey to Balmorra, Vette decided to take a chance and ask the Sith to play a simple game of "Two Truths and a Lie." If Lucerna accepted, it would help pass the time, and if she refused, well, Lucy didn't seem like the type to cause Vette physical harm for such a minor slight.

"So, I've been in jail sixteen times, I have three sisters, and I've worked as a hired assassin." Vette offered. Lucerna needed no time to deliberate.

"The statement about sisters is a lie." Lucerna stated. Vette grinned. So Lucy had been listening to their little conversations after all. Vette was about to congratulate her when the Sith continued. "You have four."

"Four?" Vette asked, bewildered. She guessed the Sith didn't care about their conversations as much as Vette hoped. "How do you figure that?"

Lucerna looked both hurt and confused as she held out a gloved hand with all four fingers extended.

"Tivva." She said, touching one finger. "Risha," she touched another, "Taunt," one more, "and me." She finished, touching the last finger. Vette beamed.

"Wow, I guess when you think of it that way. Either way, three was the lie, but I should say I have four. Non-blood family can be just as special, right?"

"Of course." Lucerna smiled, her expression warming. "Now do I get a turn?"

"Sure!" Vette exclaimed. That was unexpected. Lucerna rarely talked about herself or her past, and Vette was eager to learn more about the Sith she followed.

"All right.." Lucerna started, "I was married for six months, so far I have three brothers and two sisters, and I keep a secret stash of candies on the ship that you haven't found yet."

Vette did some quick mental fact checking. "Lucy.. it's two truths, not two lies. The candy and the siblings are lies. You told me about the slave boy and slave girl who became your brother and sister on Korriban. You have me, and you said the slave boy had a little brother you've never met who became your brother by proxy. That means you're down a brother. And I KNOW the candy is a lie."

"Oh, I know the rules." Lucerna smirked. "I have one half-brother by blood I haven't told you about yet. We weren't raised together, and we don't get along very well, but blood still counts for something."

"So tell me about him!" Vette interrupted. "And tell me about your husband."

"There's not much to say about my half-brother." Lucerna said, shrugging. "His name is Draagh and he's also force-sensitive, but I haven't kept a close watch on him. As for my old husband, he never existed. The marriage was the lie. I do have a stash of candy."

Now it was Vette's turn to smirk. "I know." She started. "That wasn't the lying part, the lie was that I hadn't found it yet."

I seriously wanted to write a fic about this conversation and Vette really having four sisters ever since I saw that conversation in the early days of launch. The candy idea came to me while I was writing the first part, and I really liked how it worked.