"If you say anything," murmured Wynston, "I will kill you."

Quinn smiled almost playfully while he stretched, enjoying the ambient steam's play over his bare chest and back. "And what part of that is new?"

The Chiss hadn't backed away yet. His gaze trailed downward while he set his hands on Quinn's chest and ran slowly toward the tantalizing progression of his abs. "Everything," he growled.

When Quinn stepped closer Wynston kissed him hard, eyes like living embers burning at the tragic shadows Quinn had held for so long, as if one night could make up for all. Those long-fingered blue hands traced, explored, searched, until Quinn gasped softly and pushed Wynston into the wall.

Quinn held the smaller man there, enjoying his slight deliberate struggle as it defined each shifting muscle in glistening highlight and sapphire shadow. He leaned in close. "We should resolve more of our disputes this way."

With a knowing smile Wynston slipped one arm free and, rooting his hand in Quinn's thick black hair, pulled him even closer. He nipped his ear, a hot sharp sting with a flick of tongue. "I told you not to say anything."

"So stop me."

…The narration on the loudspeakers, as read off by a deep and theatrical voice, continued in this fictional vein with no sign of stopping.

Then the door to the Aegis's main comms room slammed inward, the blowtorch sputtering out now that the fused hinges had been cut free.

"Junior," panted Wynston, throwing his mask aside. "What. The hell. Is that."

A small holo image of a panicked-looking Rylon Niral was being projected next to the main console. Pierce Junior stood next to it, one foot on the adjacent chair, grinning at the text-scrolling console beside him, the shipwide announcement system microphone before him, and Wynston.

"It'll stop, and I'll let mini-Quinn there out of that room I locked him in, as soon as he agrees to bring me on his Korriban diplomacy run. If he's going to meet Darth Irrex? Hell if I'm not getting me some of that."

"You're going to blow the Academy up and start a war or something," yelped Rylon. "Dad told me specifically not to let you anywhere near Korriban no matter what."

Junior beamed at Wynston. "I was just persuading him. He gives me what I want, I stop reading out loud."

"Rylon," said Wynston, "you were allowed to cave to that demand."

Quinn entered at a full sprint, stopping just shy of the opposite wall before spinning. "Pierce, you are depraved."

"Rylon could've stopped it at any time," Junior said cheerfully.

"Dad, he was going to wreck Korriban. You always told me to stick to what's needed, no matter the cost."

"Not ever hearing that was needed, Rylon," shouted Quinn. "Merely unleashing Pierce Junior on the irreplaceable-history-laden stronghold of the Sith during this time of critical diplomatic and strategic delicacy was an acceptable cost. That should be common sense!"

"You taught me not to give in. It was a matter of principle," Rylon said unhappily. "Really painful principle."

"Any principle you have," snarled Wynston, "stops where the cerulean contours of my lithe but powerful body start, is that clear?"

"I hadn't even gotten to the good parts," said Junior.

"Why would you even torture him with that?" demanded Quinn. "Couldn't you just break his bones or cut him open like any normal person?"

"Thanks, Dad," muttered Rylon.

"Some trauma is more easily repaired than others, Rylon," scowled Quinn.

"Torturing a Sith in person probably ends with me getting choked to death." Junior shrugged. "Your boy can't choke via holo yet so I figured I'd trap him and torment him from here, and as for the subject matter, well, didn't have anything more painful ready to hand."

"But you had that ready to hand," Quinn said disbelievingly.

"You wrote that," accused Wynston.

"You're confined to the brig," said Quinn.

"You're fired," said Wynston.

"You two are cute when you're mad," said Junior. "Didn't even think you were in today, but I'm starting to think it's more fun that you are."

"You're dead," said Quinn and Wynston.

"What I am," said Junior, "is going to Korriban, usin' your son's clearance, to meet a legendarily attractive Sith Lord."

"I'm not gonna fight that anymore," said Rylon.

"That's what I thought." Junior pressed the control release for Rylon's holding cell and then headed out with a swing in his step.

Quinn drew his blaster and leveled at the console that was still scrolling Junior's story. He didn't look at Wynston out of the corner of his eye. Much.

Wynston drew his blaster and leveled at the console that was still scrolling Junior's story. He didn't look at Quinn out of the corner of his eye. Much.

They fired until their respective ion cells gave out. And then, without looking at each other, they turned around and left.

1 ATC: Pride (Rizz)

Vierce is 14.

The day Rizz came up to practice after his shift at the shop floor we knew something was off. It's the shading between quiet-sullen and quiet-mad-sullen. You learn these things if you're around Rizz enough.

Anyway, he set up the blasters; the group – Lydian, Eddy, Vrenda, Dep, Totten, and me – set up the range to learn, and he brought the weaponry. I took target-holo operation, or prepped to, when Dep spoke up.

"Exam for the walker tech certification today, right?"

"Yesterday," corrected Rizz.

"You living the I'm-too-good-to-practice finals-acing dream?"

"Nah," said Rizz.

We all knew he'd been blowing off a ton of the prep work that should've gone into his tech certification. He didn't need it, we figured. That was Rizz's thing. I never saw him put work into anything that wasn't teaching us or running errands for his father. Everything else just came easy and he leaned on that. But losing this cert, that put a block on things he really wanted to do. That was a loss.

"There's still other ways you can help out," said Totten.

"Yeah." Rizz ground his teeth, but he shrugged. "I can still shoot."

2 ATC: Faith/Wisdom (Vrenda/Totten)

Vierce is 15.

The first Republic landing was a disaster. They were sending in contractors, basically, anybody who wouldn't be linked back to them as treaty violations. Well, those fine contractors landed in such a way as to bring attention right to one of our operations and the whole thing was crushed.

"These people are useless," I said over a group supper. "They're in it for one thing. If they don't get us all killed first they're just going to put another master in place."

"They've let other planets keep independence," said Vrenda. "The Republic is nothing but good news for people like us."

"Tell that to Red Flats."

"It was bad," said Totten. "But they're trying. We should give them that chance."

"They'll come through for us," said Vrenda. "As they have in other systems. We have a better chance now than ever."

I scoffed. "I don't think so."

"It's been eight years," Dep said. He wasn't his usual loudmouth self; he'd been pretty shaken by the whole thing. Eddy, cuddly creature that she was, had snuggled up on his arm for the night. She was quiet too. "You really think we're going to do this without help?" said Dep.

"Taking help would just be switching masters. We push through on our own."

"We can't," said Totten. "You've got to do what you can with what you have. Sometimes you can't make more, so you don't turn down what's offered."

"Wrong," I said. "If you can't make more you take more from those who aren't using it right. We need resources we've got plenty of Imps to take 'em from, and the Imp stuff doesn't come with strings attached. I'm not going to wait for us and our questionable friends to 'do what we can.' You do what you have to."

"You do what you can," Totten repeated calmly. "And you work on surviving. We'll watch for our chance and we will make it better."

"We will," agreed Vrenda. "With each other and the friends we can find. We're in the right. All we have to do now is convince reality of that."

3 ATC: Lust/Wrath (Dep/Vierce)

Vierce is 16. This was before he dated Illyris.

I opened the conversation with a right cross.

Dep spun almost full around. At eighteen he was taller than the average guy and built enough, I guess, but at sixteen and not quite finished growing I was already big enough to take him out if I had a mind to. And I had a mind to.

"Stars, Vierce, the hell was that for?" Dep gingerly touched his cheek with one hand and reflexively smoothed his overgelled black hair with the other.

"You talked to Lyr at all today? Or are you already done with her?"

"She's just avoiding me, okay? I didn't do anything."

"Yeah. Right. She couldn't even talk when I ran into her, she was so choked up. Now I don't want your details and I'm not asking her. All I know is I kept my mouth shut while you were verbally working her over all this time, ever since she came to town, and I stayed quiet when you started bragging behind her back. But enough is enough."

Dep was recovering, at least a little. "Well aren't you just the police of the world," he sneered. "I didn't do anything she wasn't asking for, so back off."

"I'll back off when you stop making my friend cry. You're a friend, too, Dep, but sometimes you're a complete pig."

"I didn't do anything," he repeated. "You really think I would hurt her?"

"There's one or two things you're not known for restraint about," I said.

"It was nothing she didn't ask for herself," he insisted.

"That's good. That's good to know. Because if anything – anything – makes her cry again, I'll take that as you asking for a broken leg or two."

"Right," said Dep. "You know, Vierce, sometimes you're a real psychopath. Would you please just find a girl to work out your obvious frustrations on, and leave the rest of us alone?"

"Some of us stay decent people even after they know a girl."

"Yeah, and some of us don't get violent every time somebody starts sniffling." Dep touched his cheek again. "Seriously. Get a hobby. I hear Eddy's got no one better to do these days."

I hit him again. I like the guy, I do, but sometimes…sometimes he needs the kind of reality check that the girls he picks flat-out don't have the muscle to give him.

4 ATC: Envy/Greed (Eddy/Vrenda)

Vierce is 17.

We were at the pool tables at one of the cheaper downtown places, all of us but Illyris, who had to study. We were just hanging out, talking. I had to stay off the streets by then, but a hood and a very good knowledge of how to move let me go to in-town destinations from time to time.

Vrenda was holding forth on the difficulties of programming, her day job. It's only slicing if you're not supposed to do it. She was a slicer for us. Well, she talked about her job, and Dep and Kirsk did that silly rivalry thing they always did for a girl that would never look at them like that but they still sniped at each other out of habit, and that's how it went.

I remember Eddy was noisy that evening. I mean, she always is, but almost annoyingly so. Vrenda would smile her catlike smile and bring the conversation right back to work. She always kept this stuff interesting. I don't think I would've noticed anything special about it.

But finally Eddy snapped "It's great your little office drama is the center of the galaxy, but I've got stuff elsewhere." She cast a venomous look around at the Vrenda and the boys, and then she stomped out.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Vrenda broke it saying "I love her, but she can be such a child sometimes."

"She's the youngest. I think she just feels ignored," said Totten.

"Nobody's being mean to her," sniffed Vrenda. "Honestly. Anyway…"

I didn't like seeing Eddy upset like that, so I left then.

Eddy was my first kiss, a ways back. My first a lot of things. Even when we stopped that she was special to me. So yeah, I didn't like seeing her upset.

She wasn't far outside. Just on a park bench across the way, one of the shadowed ones that felt more or less private. When I got close I heard her sniffle.

"Hey. Eddy."

She wiped her nose on her sleeve. She was fifteen then, cute as a button even when she was crying. "Aren't you gonna listen to the adventures of Vrenda?" she asked thickly.

"I think she has that covered," I said uncomfortably. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? Apart from Vrenda being this huge vortex of specialest-person-in-the-room?"

"I, uh…"

"And everybody's on her side! You all just pat me on the head and ignore me again!"

"Um…" I should've thought of that. "No. No, Eddy, we weren't ignoring you."

"She always does that," sniffled Eddy. "Like she doesn't have enough, she's gotta hog all you guys's attention too."

"She doesn't do it on purpose."

"Sometimes you're stupid, Vierce." She suddenly leaned into me, throwing one arm around me. "Sometimes you're really, really stupid."

"Uh," I said, settling an arm around her. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah. Just…don't go back in there yet."

"'Course I won't," I said, and finally thought of something nice to say. "All the best company's here."

5 ATC: Gluttony (Lydian)

Vierce is 18.

"One more," said Totten, leaning slightly over the table.

"I think Dep's already had too much," Vrenda purred. Rizz nodded grim agreement.

"Doesn't matter," said Totten. "One more for the night, for Lydian."

"It doesn't count toward the limit if it's for Lydian," I said. Illyris squeezed my hand. She hadn't known Lydian, but she understood how we cared.

"Brother has a point," added Kirsk.

Lydian would always be one of the Ridgeside crew, but she had died young. Sometimes it was as ordinary as a speeder accident.

"Right you are." Vrenda patted the sloshed Dep's shoulder and waved for a last round of shots.

"To fallen friends," said Rizz.

"To fallen friends," we chorused.

"To Lydian," finished Eddy. We drank up. Afterward Illyris and I helped drag Dep home. There's times we've judged him, but it's not excess if it's for Lydian.

5 ATC: Sloth/Courage (Totten/Illyris)

Double post for 5 ATC: Vierce is 18.

Totten was quiet all through the meal. Usually he had at least a little something to say, but this time he was subdued. I think Rizz and maybe Vrenda already knew why; the rest seemed to think nothing of it until after Tot knocked back a last drink and cleared his throat.

"Guys," he said, "tomorrow's going to be my last day."

We all got quiet.

"What do you mean, 'your last day'?" Dep said.

"I'm going to the shipping center full-time. Starting some night classes. Seeing to things at home. If you guys ever need stuff I'll see what I can do, but I'm not carrying arms as a resistance fighter."

That burned. "Oh," I said. "Oh, is there a place I can check in to make the resistance over and my life free, too? Because if so, show me the dotted line and we can all sign."

"Vierce," Rizz said warningly. "Better this than burnout."

"We've discussed it with Tot," Vrenda added. "I think this is really best."

I bit my tongue. Tot was a decent guy, but he went to a dark silent place too easily and too often. We worried about him, it's true, and I think any hard thing would break him if he stayed at it too long. This was one thing I couldn't see any way of giving up on, but now Rizz was on his side.

"No. Vierce is right," said Illyris. "You're gonna rejoin our happy civilian population, is that it?"

"Please," Tot said, smoothing back his brown hair with broad square hands. "I can't keep up like this. Taking care of home will be work enough, I just want a little peace. Any way I can make it."

"There won't be peace until we've driven every Imp off this planet and you know it, Tot. You know it! How is sitting on your *** going to make anything better for us?"

Illyris hadn't known him as long as the rest of us had. She didn't know, really know, that sometimes just breathing was all the challenge he could handle. I didn't understand it either, but Rizz and Vrenda were with Tot on this one and I respected them enough to stay quiet.

"If you need anything you'll let us know," said Eddy. "I still expect you for holidays."

Tot smiled weakly. "I'll be there."

"So there is something that'll get you off the couch?" Illyris said roughly. "Just not the occupation. Just not what runs our lives. Nice that you think you can choose otherwise, but you're with us or you're worthless."

"Lyr," I said. "Please don't do this. Not all of us are cut out to give as much as you and I can."

"Not cut out? This is all the cloth we've got, Vierce. I don't care what you were cut out for to start with, we need every scrap we have."

She burned so bright. Always had. She didn't understand how anyone could do any less. I think she hated him from then on for giving up.

Stars, I loved her.

6 ATC: Wrath/Justice/Restraint (Vierce/Rizz)

Vierce is 19.

We had the Imps cleared and it was down to a civilian. One of ours, arguably. I had him kneeling on the floor. Some Imp patrol had stopped him, I don't know why, and like a traitor or a fool he had let slip some information about one of the resistance cells. Enough for them to zoom in on two men and grab them before we could do anything. All because this guy talked about "funny activity." Funny like saving his sorry ***.

"We're done here," said Rizz. He was pretty talkative in the field, when communication needed to be clear.

"No, we're not. The whole reason we had to do this is because of what this snake said!"

The man whimpered when my blaster rifle nudged his head. I didn't much care.

"He didn't know," said Rizz.

"That's not the point. Why was he even talking to them? Our people are in prison or dead because of him and he's still breathing."

Flash kept his mouth shut. He was new around here, and though older than me he deferred to Rizz and rarely seemed inclined to argue with me when I was mad. I liked him, even before we got to be real friends.

"He didn't have a choice," said Rizz.

"He could've died. He could've died like his countrymen do, like we do, instead of handing that to the enemy."

"He couldn't fight, Vierce. He had kids to think of." Rizz wasn't stupid enough to try to take hold of the rifle, nor even push it aside. He just said "Save that for when you need it."

"It isn't right, he walks and they don't."

"Can't make their loss right. We can do justice, and that was those Imps. This isn't."

I wasn't done shooting, or at least not done wanting to. But Rizz usually had a point.

"I'm sorry," whispered the man on his knees. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

It killed me to leave something standing after a loss like that. My scarred face throbbed, though I'm told that months after the injury that pain was probably imaginary. I let the man to his feet, because it was fair. I hated it but I knew it was fair.

"Go take care of your kids," I said. "Just go."

Rizz nodded at me while the man ran. "This was right."

I clenched my jaw and pushed a breath out. "Yeah. Let's go."

7 ATC: Charity/Hope (Dep/Eddy)

Vierce is 20.

A week after the last Imp transport left Kegled II, the Ridgeside crowd threw a party for the people who were about to ship out for service with the Republic.

It was a big crowd and a lively one. Kirsk was in town this time around; so were Rizz's father Mister Isling and Totten and a lot of resistance people, some of them come in from other towns because they'd known us during temporary assignments. I think we had everybody but Dep for some reason.

We wandered, we scattered, we talked. We came back to one table to eat, and after that, a round of drinks.

"To fallen friends," recited Rizz.

"To fallen friends," we all said.

"To Lydian," said Eddy.

"And Illyris," said I. And we drank.

Dep swaggered in a little while later. "Stars," I said, "I thought you were dead or something."

He grinned. "Nah. I started on my way to the festivities hours ago, promise." He lowered his voice a little. "But you know I've been helping out my parents with some displaced people who're sorting out where to live now. Couple of 'em were in a bad way tonight, I just stayed with 'em a while to make sure they'll be all right."

"You missed a party on some random citizens' account?"

Dep shrugged. "They needed someone. Besides, the party still seems to be here."

I smiled. "You're all right sometimes, Dep."

"Yeah." He grinned again. "Spread the word."

We went outside a while later, Rizz, Eddy, Vrenda, Dep, Flash, and me. The ones who would be shipping out. It was a warm night, leaning more toward summer than spring. We looked up.

"The Republic did good for us," said Flash.

Rizz nodded.

"Better than good," said Eddy, squeezing Flash's hand. "They put in a lot for our wonderful charming but probably not very important planet."

"This stuff matters to them," I said. "That's why we're going to go give back."

Vrenda sighed dramatically. "They're going to rearrange all the constellations where we're going," she said in her low husky voice. "It'll be very inconvenient."

"Just means you'll have to find some nice fellow to help you figure out the new ones," suggested Dep. "One for every planet."

"And Dep's entire career plan becomes clear," sighed Flash. "Except with women."

"Was it ever in doubt?" I said.

"Nah," said Flash. "Not really."

We were quiet for a bit. Then Rizz spoke up: "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," agreed Eddy. "It all gets better from here."

Junior Agent Lenic hid behind the crate, his heart pounding. This was a safe house, that meant it was safe, no one was supposed—

He cringed as he heard the explosion in the far corner of the room. Then the screams of the dying. Blaster fire cut those mercifully short. One by one. Solid footsteps paced on the deckplates, headed for the conference area. Lenic risked a peek around the corner of his hiding place before ducking back to safety.

What little training he’d had activated. Heavy armor, mismatched. Mercenary. Build was male, height: average. Helmet covered head, could be any humanoid spe—thick flexible metal cables depending from rear of helmet. Cyborg? No. Lekku. Twi’lek? An armored Twi’lek? Lenic’s mind went back to the cantina girl he’d been with a few days ago. He clutched his short rifle. Just a Twi’lek.

Just a Twi’lek. Lenic peered around the edge, in time to see the mercenary haul a corpse off the conference table and let it fall to the floor. The mouth gaped, wide staring dead eyes turned his direction. Viole. Senior Agent Viole Nistas. Bile rose sour in the back of his throat and he hid again. This was supposed to be a safe house. A safe house he repeated like a mantra, as if repetition would make it true.

He overheard the man’s voice, altered by the electronics in his helmet, “Starting data capscan. Dupe this, willya?” A pause.

“They never said we couldn’t, did they?” Longer pause.

“Clever, Sin-Supisy. I love you already.”

Half a conversation. Maybe he didn’t realize he was on vox. Probably didn’t care. Lenic stroked the safety on his rifle. He ought to shoot. He ought to do something. Just a Twi’lek. Lenic shifted his position and his boot scr*ped the floor.

A bolt hit the top of the crate and Lenic heard a screech. His screech. Footfalls ran up on his blind and he looked up into the barrel of a blaster. Two blasters. A dark opaque faceplate behind them.

“Drop it,” the Twi’lek ordered. The rifle fell from Lenic’s hands. He didn’t remember letting go. “Got a live one,” the Twi’lek said. Lenic froze. Sh*t Sh*t Sh*t.

“Not on purpose.” He was still talking to someone else over a transmitter. “Bet they’d love to squeeze him. How much you think we could get?”

“I don’t know anything,” Lenic squeaked. He really didn’t. The SIS recruited him out of a junior tech-cert program, sent him to Coruscant for a week of spy boot camp, then posted him here. Not even a month ago. It was a safe house. That meant it was safe.

“Shut it,” the mercenary snapped. Listening. “E-chu-ta,” he said finally, “Could bluff ‘em maybe.” Another pause. Lenic’s lap went all warm and damp. He was going to get tortured and he didn’t even know anything. All he did was electronics. Being a spy was supposed to be a line to get girls, not get shot at or have body parts cut off or—

“Keepuna. Figures the imps for good record-keepers. Not even worth wasting the gas charge. Word of advice, bukee,” he said, gesturing at the darker stain on Lenic’s dark trousers, “pick a different career.” The blasters withdrew and the mercenary retreated.

Lenic sat in the shadowy safe house, the smell of burnt electronics and worse in his nose, wondering how he was still alive.

Lord Naught waited, calm and calculating, ignoring all those around him. A cup of tea sat in front of him, untouched but still steaming. For all outside appearances he was engrossed in his book: his brow was creased into a deep frown and his eyes bored into the open page. He stared at the book, not reading it and was instead lost in his own thoughts. The trouble of Rochester and their relationship, such as it was, had plagued him for days. He still had no adequate solution.

"My Lord?"

Lord Naught looked up, having heard the man's approach, but not sensed him in the Force. Being with Rochester had always been strange, from a Force-sensitive point of view, at least; with no resonance in the ripples and waves of the universe's life stream, it was almost as if he did not exist. Even the dead had some presence to them.

"Lieutenant." He gestured to the seat opposite, but only as a formality. Rochester did not sit.

"You wished to speak with me, my Lord?"

Lord Naught handed his book to Rochester, watching as he put into a bag. His hands were shaking. It did not surprise Lord Naught that the trained Imperial composure was failing now.

"Come." Lord Naught stood and walked briskly from the cafe. He did not look back, expecting his orders to be followed implicitly. He hailed a taxi, one of the few in the city fit for Sith travel: regal black with Imperial red accents and a spacious back seat. Rochester appeared at his elbow and opened the door. He slipped inside, Rochester following, and gave the driver and address. The window rolled up and they were alone.

Broan breathed and, dropping the mask, turned to Rochester.

"You shouldn't come back to me." He said at last, feeling the pain of it twist in his gut. He heard the sharp intake of breath as Rochester looked out at the city below. It hurt, but Broan knew it would be for the best. He hoped it would be for the best.

"Why?" His back tensed as he spoke, his shoulders rising and bunched. Rochester's voice was tight; quiet on the verge of shouting.

"I attacked you. I hurt you. I could have-"

"You had every right to kill me, but you didn't," Rochester grabbed his knee and lent close to his face. Hot, fat tears welled in his eyes. "Every other Sith on this planet would have run me through, but you didn't. You're different."

"I attacked you. I physically threw you to the floor. Rochester, that... that's just wrong. People don't do that to each other."

"What are you talking about?" Rochester sat up straight, his hair brushing against the roof. His eyes were almost frantic in the confusion. "You own me, I owe you everything that I am and that I have. You're Sith: you have every right to me and to do what you want."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life!" Broan wanted to grab Rochester and shake him. He bunched his hands into his lap, feeling his nails dig into the flesh of his palms. "No one has that right, no one at all. And especially not me!"

"What are you talking about? You're Sith, you're allowed-"

"That doesn't matter! Being Sith doesn't mean anything!" Broan ran his hands through his hair, trying desperately to calm down. He gripped and relaxed, feeling a few strands being pulled out here and there. "I love you, Rochester. I love you so much, but you deserve better than what I can give you."

"You can be such an idiot, sometimes," Arms encircled Broan and he did not resist. He was pulled across the seat and into the embrace of the man he still loved, who was trembling but trying to stay strong. "I love you, I want this to work. I don't know if I can be alone again."

"Accept that we're equals," He felt Rochester nod, the other man's cheek rubbing against his head. "And accept that if I ever threaten you or hurt you, you walk away, understand? I'm not a Sith Lord, I'm just a man."

"We can make this work?"

"It won't be easy."

"Good things never are."

Really hard writing this, but I needed to get the strange nature of their different cultures across. I always wondered what it would be like for an Imperial citizen, raised in a society which venerates Sith, to be in a relationship with one. I imagine there would be that "Sith have all the rights; Sith have all the privileges" undercurrent in society and how that would work versus a person who believes in the adage "once is one time too many" (something I hold myself, which is partly why I held off writing this).

The hard thing with this trying to make it not feel forced. I want to see if these two can make it, but I don't want it to feel fake. This is certainly not going to be a case of "kiss, make up and suddenly everything's back to normal" because that's just bad writing. It completely erases a great many nuances of human emotion and action for a cuddly, nice ending.

I guess it's a case of loving a person, but hating what they do. In this instance, Broan loves Rochester, but hates the fact that he's, essentially, a Sith apologiser. That's something that's certainly going to be addressed.