When Ruth got home she found Colrand on the big console, staring at a still holo image that looked a lot like him. Only older, and in an Imperial uniform.

Older, of course. Perhaps a little more tired around the eyes. The set of his jaw was still just the same. Not a single hair had moved out of place, though a few had changed from black to grey. The mole on his cheek gave him a little merciful distinction from her son.

Colrand's voice trampled her thoughts. "He looks like me."

"Yes," she admitted.

"I dragged some information out of military records. He's a big deal. I couldn't display all the commendations at once on this thing."

"I don't doubt it. He was always very good at his job. And very dedicated to it."

"I've heard you talk about him when I wasn't supposed to be listening. I know he sold you out somehow. I know you said that he lied to you all the time. Used you." He looked up and half smiled. "Then you always backpedal and say one good thing came out of it."

"It's true."

"Do you ever worry I might turn out like him?"

"You couldn't. There's not a malicious bone in your body."

"Right, and he's a liar. A fake. A traitor." He looked back up at the holo display. "I don't see it."

Seeing the mirrored images like this? Neither did she. Then again, she never had. "He always made sure we see him looking good. Cole, you're worth ten thousand of him because you're good on the inside, too."

He brought up some different text, leaving the portrait in place beside. "It says he worked for you for just a year and a half."

"That's right."

"What'd he do there?"

Um. "Multiple jobs. As a lowly apprentice I had very little in the way of crew when he was first assigned to me. Vette was traveling with me because she liked me. That was it." She drifted toward an armchair and sat down, still looking at the holo. "He had been in the service for years; he had a vast understanding of politics, tactics, the military in general, the history of many planets we visited, and he knew just what information to bring up when I needed it." She wrenched her eyes away to give Colrand a shaky smile. "Understand, I was eighteen with some homeschooling and half a year's experience in an accelerated program on Korriban. His knowledge was invaluable. He piloted the ship, supported me in the field – he was a good combat medic, a killer shot, a superb tactician. And an able administrator. He kept things running, kept us supplied, kept our papers in order so I could save my energy for what mattered. And he…he believed in the Empire. He wasn't cruel or wasteful or concerned with his own pride at the expense of the mission or anything like too many people are. He knew what we were fighting for, he gave it his all, and even when he disagreed with my approach he obeyed because that's what he was sworn to do. Stay at my side, advise me if he thought I was making a mistake, but in the end do what I needed him to do. I could…I could rely on him." Until she couldn't. She swallowed hard. "So that's what he did when he worked for me."

"And then he pulled something."

"Yes. He undid it all."

"For your old master? Darth Baras?"

"For Darth Baras. Quinn attempted to kill me, on Baras's order. He failed."

"Well. Obviously." Colran looked at the holo image. "I thought you and he were married? But that isn't on the record."

"No." She had had that removed. "It isn't on the record. But we were."

"And then he tried to kill you anyway. Did he know about me?"

"No. Neither of us did."

"Huh." He looked at the floor. "Maybe if he did it would've been different?"

"Probably not." What was a little thing like one's child against Quinn's precious orders? "He always put the job first. Ahead of everything. Everything he had, and everything he claimed to love."

"Yeah. I guess it's working for him, judging by the awards." He watched his own foot tapping for a little while. "Does he know about me now?"

"Yes. I informed him before I had him transferred back into the service."

"He knew the whole time?"

"I haven't allowed him to contact us."

"Oh."

"Colrand, he can't be trusted. He never could. I didn't just keep him away on a whim."

"Yeah. I know. If…I know you do things peacefully, Mom, but if he's that dangerous why didn't you just kill him?"

A good question. "I didn't want to kill him. He was dear to me once. And he's your father, Cole." She nodded toward the display with its long list of commendations. "In regular service, if nobody gets close to him, he can do a lot of good. He has done well. But he is never coming near me, nor you."

"I don't think my father being alive is that helpful if I never get to see him."

"When you're old enough to defend yourself," she said softly. "Not before." She looked back at the holo in spite of herself. "Now please take that down."

He frowned. "I haven't gotten to see this. I'm not done reading."

"All right." She couldn't say no to him. She also couldn't think. Instead she hurried to be elsewhere, her heart pounding a rapid retreat.

Kids, y u gotta ask awkward questions!?

I'm certain Cole has tracked down some information here and there over the years. This just happened to be his chance to corner Ruth and ask specifics.

Orphea had a beat-up Mantis-class freighter with an out-of-date Huttese registration. Lord Scourge sneered at the accommodations, but he sneered at everything, so far as Orphea could see. At least he had agreed to come aboard.

Under any other circumstances Orphea might have doubted Scourge's story of an Emperor bent on consuming the life of the galaxy, one planet at a time, to make himself all-powerful. That wasn't the will that had brought the Empire this far. Was it? Was the Council of squabbling madmen ruled over by nothing better than one very strong madman?

Well, even if that was the case, that's what people like Orphea were there to counteract. Like Orphea, and like Ruth, one way or another. There was planning to do.

"My sources indicate that Larr Gith is…occupied…on Corellia," Orphea told Scourge. "Primarily with spice and talking about the glory days. I think it's time we got her off the streets."

Lord Scourge waved negligently. "It will be best to introduce the Jedi only when we must. She was less than useful during our preparations the last time."

"She's got something that can stand up to the Emperor's will. That's useful."

"An intrinsic quality, hunter. You are not going to somehow capture or transfer it."

"The current Wrath could likely pick it up. Better than leaving her under his thumb in the battles to come."

Scourge waved a hand. "We can divert her elsewhere or kill her when the time comes."

"You're joking, right? She would be much more valuable on our side."

"That cannot be done. We should concentrate on foiling the rituals the Emperor seeks to use to offer up mass death to his own plans. And once your…people…locate his true form, we should take the Jedi in to do what must be done."

"I think you'll find the Wrath can't be so easily dismissed."

"Do not insult me. The Wrath he appointed in my place is a mere girl, little hunter, and she will not slow me down. Enough. I am more interested in seeing this Aegis you claim."

"I want the Jedi first. Getting her in touch with the Wrath is not negotiable."

"The Wrath is irrelevant," Scourge said impatiently.

"You or your Jedi helps return the Wrath to normal, or you can say goodbye to my people and my assistance."

"Withdrawing your support serves no one, hunter. If I fail, you will die."

Orphea's voice was level. "If the Wrath doesn't go free I will let you, me, and the rest of this blighted galaxy burn." It was a bluff. Mostly. Sith were supposed to be ruled by their passions; Scourge would understand. Orphea held his gaze with her false dark eyes until she could see he was starting to believe her. "If there's no kind of shielding you know how to use, you're going to take me to someone who can."

Lord Scourge sneered. "She is dear to you."

A fact Orphea wouldn't have had to bring up if the man hadn't argued so damn much. "Yes," Orphea said. "She is. And we work as a team. Bring me to someone who can begin to free her and then I'll help you save your own skin."

*

The blonde slouched in a booth of her own, watching the dancers with glassy eyes. Orphea hadn't recently looked up the newest fads in spice, but she recognized that spice was what this was. The blonde was beautiful in spite of the care she wasn't taking of herself. Even through the glaze those eyes were a distinctive amber hue. Wonderful figure, dressed to advantage in a dark dress that, while not particularly clean, was cut to show off. She was lovely, and she was hideously out of it.

The blonde raised her head slightly scrunched up her nose when Orphea approached. "You can just move along, sugar," she said in a husky contralto.

Orphea seriously considered it, but stayed in place. Seconds later Lord Scourge placed a heavy hand on her shoulder as if to make sure she didn't wander.

The blonde squinted up at the Sith. "Uggh. Why have you not died in a fire yet?"

"I ignored that directive, Larr Gith, as I have always ignored the frivolous orders you gave."

"Did you find your boyfriend?"

"I assume you mean the Emperor. His activity has resumed. You are needed again."

"Hmph. Who's your friend?"

"This is Orphea. You will find she brings slightly more utility than the allies we had last time."

Larr Gith broadcast arrogance in Orphea's direction. "The allies we had last time could at least…" She scrunched up her nose again. "I just had a great idea, Lord Scourge. How about you die in a fire for real this time?"

"If that happens, it will be in the same blaze that claims you." He looked around. "Come. I doubt you have much to pack up before we depart."

"I'm not coming with–"

"Larr Gith," Orphea said in a respectful tone. The woman had an ego. That much was known. "I've heard the stories about what you did to break through and stop the Emperor, at a time nobody really believed it was possible. He's back, but we understand more about his power and how to stop him for good. You resisted him once. We're all waiting for you to do the impossible again."

Larr Gith glowered even harder at Lord Scourge. "And you brought the second coming of all my Jedi bosses ever?"

"We can arrange to make this minimally inconvenient," said Orphea. "I can arrange any creature comfort you care to name on the go. Just teach the Wrath – the current Wrath – anything you know about blocking the Emperor's influence. Coordinate with her to end his threat. And afterward – well, I'm given to understand that the Jedi Council cut you loose, after everything you accomplished, merely because you didn't dance to their tune." Technically the Jedi's destructive hard-partying ways had gotten her labeled a disgrace, an embarrassment, and a pernicious influence on the young. Orphea had worked with worse. "I treat my allies better than that. We finish this quest, you can name your pleasure, starting with getting this one – " she jerked her chin up at Lord Scourge – "out of your life for good."

"Will he die in a fire?" she said hopefully.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that at the present time," Orphea said slyly. She felt Lord Scourge's glare boring into the top of her head.

"Come," Scourge growled. "The Emperor's plan makes more progress with every moment we waste here."

"Have I mentioned how much I didn't miss you?" snarled Larr Gith. "Fine. Fine. You want your Hero, you'll get her."

The Jedi stood, stretched, drew herself into a pose that was nothing short of regal. She was a statuesque creature, taller than Orphea, possessed of a poise that would be stunning if she were clean.

She half-smiled, half-sneered at Orphea. "All right, sugar. Arrange whatever it is that makes you feel important, and I'll arrange to save your ***. Again."

This is roughly the state Prime universe Scourge found her in when he sought her out of his own accord to fight the rising cultist activity.

Will she clean up nice and put on her Jedi face? Oh, sure. Sure, she remembers the hero script. Just, uh…some time to sober up first.

"Colrand. Hello."

"Wynston." Colrand looked briefly to the door behind the Chiss. "Mom's not around, is she?"

"No, she's still out on assignment. I wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah, sure." The teenager gestured toward the living room. "Uh, something to drink?"

"Water, please." He considered whiskey instead, but this wasn't a time for social drinking and it sure as hell wasn't a time for nerve-deadening drinking.

Colrand sent the nearest droid on its way to the kitchen and went to perch on an armchair opposite Wynston. "So, uh, what's up?"

"It's about your mother. What can you tell me about her in-person audiences with the Emperor?"

"Not a lot. The Servants call her, she packs up by herself and goes. It's hours and hours away, wherever it is. She comes back to prep, seems kinda depressed – or she goes straight to the job – gets it done, comes home, sits by the fire a while." Colrand fiddled nervously with his hair. "I mean, the Emperor is a powerful Dark Side presence. Really powerful. I've sensed stuff that'd give me nightmares and Mom says it's not a tenth what this guy puts out. So, yeah, she's in a bad mood after."

"I think the effect on her between when she gets her assignment and when she carries it out is more than just a reaction to his presence."

Colrand shook his head. "If you knew the half of what you can see walking around the Citadel while Force-sensitive? I know it's freaky seeing her like that, but sit under a heavy Dark Side presence for long enough and you're gonna feel bad. I always just figured that's how she gets when she gets that close."

A kitchen droid whirred up with a glass, and Wynston took it and sipped. "Cole, I've seen your mother neck deep in the Dark Side and believe me, she was nothing like as dead inside as what she seems when she comes home from these audiences."

The teenager watched him intently. "When did you see that?"

"A long time ago. Before you were born. I've seen her get angry, I've seen her hate, and for that matter I've directly observed her talking to the previous incarnation of the Voice, and she was never like this. I think when he gives her these jobs in person he lays an outright compulsion, and I don't think she knows how to stop herself."

"It's still just her job, though, right? She does it, because she's supposed to do her job anyway, then she gets to come home."

"Her last couple of targets – the forced ones, the ones he made sure of personally – have been people I know for a fact were serving the public interest in important capacities. If there are more mistaken assignments like that the Emperor's orders could start doing real damage." He sipped his water. "Furthermore I hope you'll agree that Ruth shouldn't be getting coerced into anything."

"We don't really get a choice about that."

"There's always a choice. If you don't see one you make one. There are people in this galaxy who have resisted the Emperor's command, which brings me to why I visited you today. I need you to contact me when she's called to him again. I know he doesn't keep a perfectly regular schedule but by the averages it's about time for another job to come up. I've found people I think can help, but I don't want them introduced until after the Emperor gets his close look at her head."

"I see," Colrand said cautiously.

"I don't like hiding things from your mother, but every secret I keep in this matter I'm keeping for a reason. We have no other choice, not until we're sure she's free."

"You just said there's always a choice."

Wynston stopped short. The kid was good about picking up on inconsistencies. Sharp, quick, and he'd always been fiercely loyal…just what was needed. "The other choice is giving up and losing her, one command at a time." Wynston set down his glass. "That's never going to happen. I love your mother very much, Cole, and I will not allow harm to come to her. Or to you."

Colrand's dark blue eyes narrowed a little at the declaration. Which was, admittedly, more than Wynston usually directed at people. The teenager looked thoughtfully at Wynston. Then he looked thoughtfully at the floor. Then he nodded. "I'll call," he said. "Next time she goes."

"Thank you."

"It'd be nice to have her not coming home like that."

"Then I'll see to it it stops." Wynston stood. "I have to get moving. Please keep this quiet until the time comes."

"Yeah, I get that. Wynston…be careful."

Wynston nodded. "I will."

"It'll be good to have both of you home."

"There's nowhere I'd rather be, Cole. Take care."

The oily creeping of the Emperor's attention pushed into Ruth's mind, sampled here and there, reviewed her job and her home and laughed at them. She had been through this intrusion enough that she could stay standing and outwardly calm, but anger and a baseless shame bubbled in the Emperor's wake.

Finally his focus withdrew, back to the physical form on the throne. "Wrath," said the Emperor. "The war shifts. The show continues on the front lines, as it must…you are needed elsewhere."

"What do you require?"

"My Hand will direct you, and you will be assigned servants as necessary. Your campaign must be swift, precise, and complete. To begin, one death is critical…"

She received her assignment.

Orphea answered a call from Colrand in private; Wynston took a sleek silvery ship from the Aegis's hangar, alone, to call Ruth and arrange introductions.

He called Ruth on the main holo and got an answer right away. She looked straight-backed but a little dull-eyed. "Hi," she said coolly.

"Ruth. It's good to see you."

"You as well."

I was wondering whether you're busy? I'd like to see you."

"I'm on a job. Are you anywhere near Hutta? You could help if you like."

"I can arrange that."

It was in grimy Jiguuna that Ruth said her next target was. He called her as soon as he landed and waited for her in Nem'ro's smoky cantina.

She came in with purpose in her step, a little more liveliness than he had expected.

"I'm sorry" was the only warning he had.

She dispensed with the flashy execution swing, instead activating her sabers while thrusting them directly at him. Well, thought a calm observation process in his head as he sidestepped, at least she respected him.

"Don't," he said. It didn't shake the cold determination on her face. He broke for the cover of a nearby table; when she Forced slammed it straight into and over him, laying him flat, he palmed a small dart gun from his pocket. One hand flung a handful of the possibly-dirt from the floor into her eyes; he stabilized his aim and shot sedative darts, one at a gap in the armor at her shoulder, one in her neck. A third went wide.

She snarled, some small vocalization nearly lost in the rising babble of the crowd around them. Would she harm civilians on her way through? Maybe. Damn. Maybe not.

He rolled aside when she came at him, kicked at her leg. Another table for temporary cover. Her face was cold. Beautiful and pale and cold, the life gone from her again while her death kept moving.

"Ruth, if you can hear me–" he kicked at the table to deflect Ruth's next Force push, sending the furniture flying – "don't do this. You're being controlled. This isn't you. Fight it."

"Wynston." He felt her Force grip on his jacket while she dragged him close to her crimson sabers. "I have to."

The twist that tore his jacket fasteners open and pulled him free was hell on his arms, but a dislocated shoulder was better than the alternative.

The drugs weren't slowing her enough. He didn't have much else. A quick blaster shot to one of the floating holodancer platforms sent it plummeting; it clipped Ruth's arm as she dodged, not enough to stop her but enough to slow her while he darted in, grappled her other arm, planted a much larger needle in her.

She flung him back, casually slamming him into the wall meters away. Then came the Force choke.

"Stop," he gasped. "I love you." Every word burned his throat further.

Her brow twitched. "I love you, too. But I have to do this." Her hand turned a little, fingers tightening.

Not if he could help it. It was hard to shoot from the hip while hanging in air, but some of his blaster shots hit. It was her arm he had to get. Her arm, or – no, something else got her to drop it. His head swam as he hit the ground and charged her. She was slowing.

How had this happened? He'd been careful. His operations out on the Rim had been done under disguises, with misdirections, few names, all of them fake. Why was the order on him? He hadn't told Ruth or any of the Emperor's servants anything about Scourge's story. Had Colrand mentioned he was up to something? Had Scourge intentionally dropped the wrong word somewhere now that he thought he had the shape and the use of the Aegis?

He closed, kicked the sabers from her weakening hands, knelt. She looked up at him; her arms were still tensing, struggling against the paralytic shot.

"Don't fight me," she pleaded.

"You're not the enemy. I promised you that." Tears were rolling down her face. He had one or two of his own. "Sleep now. Help is coming, and you will not be commanded again."

She opened her mouth. Perhaps it was just as well that she didn't have the energy to say anything.

*

He had to pay one of the braver locals to help carry Ruth back to her ship. He fixed up his own arm, then tended to her blaster wounds. And drugged her again.

As soon as the practical actions were done he gave himself over to shaking. It took him a few minutes to get his thoughts in order. Ruth, once she awakened, would kill him on sight. Would she kill Orphea? Wynston had to hope not. He should take her…take her home; so long as she was incapacitated he didn't want her anywhere near Lord Scourge, not while he still thought she was dead weight. Home and in his arms were the only two places in the galaxy she could safely be weak, and one of those was no longer possible. Wynston should take her home, then let Colrand know to expect Orphea with guests soon.

He put her to bed once he had her patched up. He tucked her in. Drugged her some more. Set course for home.

When he reached the Niral estate he drove his covered speeder past the gate and right up to the door. He still couldn't prevent a little rain from hitting her when he carried her in.

The grounds were quiet, but he didn't have time to explore and see whether that was due to trouble. She was going to wake up sooner or later and he couldn't be there when that happened. He called out in the hallway: "Colrand? Briggs? Deshla?" Nothing. "Cole. Colrand! Where are you?"

He rounded the corner into the living room and reflexively, protectively tightened his arms around Ruth's unconscious form. There before him Colrand, looking worried but healthy, was standing to one side of the fireplace. Opposite him was his older image.

Father and son turned at Wynston's entrance. Cole looked openly scared; Quinn, rigidly poised as ever in a uniform more decorated than Wynston remembered, looked like his first calculation was recommending blood.

"Quinn, stay where you are," barked Wynston. "Cole, she's all right. Are you?"

"Yeah." Colrand was on his way over. "Yeah, I'm fine. What happened?"

"Sedatives." Wynston brought Ruth to the nearest couch and laid her down, letting Colrand move in to take her hand. "They'll wear off before long; it takes a lot to keep your mother down. You remember what we discussed?"

"Yeah." He was doing a good job managing his fear.

"She has orders on me. She can't disobey. I couldn't avoid a fight but she will be all right, and I will send help." Wynston straightened and jerked his head at Quinn. "Now what is he doing here?"

Quinn hadn't moved from his station by the fire. He just turned to look down his nose at Wynston. "My job, agent."

That arrogance. Always the arrogance. "I don't know why I bothered asking. That's all you've ever done with her and hers." He turned back to Colrand. "Listen to your mother, all right? I'll keep out of sight and someone will be in touch to get that order lifted. Look after her for me. And don't take what this one says at face value."

"It would seem you're the one with the death mark, agent," Quinn said quietly. "Step away from the Wrath. And stay clear of my son."

"You weren't invited here, Quinn. Try talking to the master of the house before you make yourself comfortable."

"Step away from the Wrath." Quinn laid a hand on his blaster.

"Father, don't," said Colrand.

Wynston was tired. He was tired, the job was left undone, and there was nothing he could do but retreat. He would gladly have shot Quinn where he stood, but not with Colrand watching. "Today isn't the day we resolve this, Quinn. Watch yourself. Cole, look for his orders. They're the only reality he knows. Look after your mother. I love you, and her. No matter what happens." He forced himself to take a step toward the door. Then another.

Quinn started raising the blaster. Quick as thought Colrand jumped between the two of them. The boy Force shoved Quinn back against the nearest wall, clumsily pinning his limbs in place.

"I can hold him," Colrand said with some effort. "Go. Find what it takes to bring Mom back."

Wynston ran.

The hatred Colrand saw on Quinn's face as the older man watched Wynston go was chilling. It receded behind Quinn's normal stern solemn expression the moment Colrand released him. This was a contained man, a tremendously controlled one. One with a history Colrand shouldn't forget. Since Quinn's appearance a couple of hours ago he had been softspoken, almost meek, but this was the one person Colrand's mother feared.

"Father," said Colrand. It was a good word, no matter what. "Do you know anything about those orders?"

Quinn looked at him. "No." Then he hurried to Ruth's side and knelt. Colrand chewed nervously at his cheek while Quinn checked Ruth's pale hands, pushed her sleeves up a little, checked something about her neck. He traced a small red needle mark there. "I don't have the tools for a proper diagnostic," he said in a low hard voice.

"She's fine," said Colrand. "If Wynston says she'll be okay, she'll be okay."

"That man is not a reliable source. – She seems stable but she needs to warm up. Are there covers available?"

"Her room's right over this way." Colrand kept an eye on Quinn while the officer took the unconscious Ruth in his arms. He wished again he could read Quinn's expression better. It was intent, serious. Worried? Quinn didn't take his eyes off his charge while Colrand guided him down the hall to Ruth's room and turned on the light.

Quinn tucked her in and straightened, hardly so much as blinking while he looked at her. "We should bring or have a droid bring some water. She'll want it when she wakes."

"Yeah, sure."

"How is she?" He hadn't asked that question yet. "In general."

"We shouldn't talk here. You'd probably better not be the first thing she sees when she wakes up."

That sharp blink might qualify as a wince. "Of course," said Quinn.

They went back out to stand by the fire. He did look a shade more nervous than he had when he first showed up. He still met Colrand's eyes with a dogged kind of courage, though.

"How is she?" he asked again.

"Good. I mean, work gets intense. With the war." He wasn't going to bring up anything Wynston had said about the Emperor's controls. "But she's been good. She's happy. With…" he looked out the door after Wynston, changed his mind. "Here."

Quinn nodded. "I see. She loves him, then."

"Always has. I can't believe she tried to…but Wynston wouldn't lie about it."

"The agent is a professional liar. He always has been."

"He's a good man." That was something Colrand couldn't doubt.

"It is to his advantage to look that way to you." Quinn fell silent.

Colrand cleared his throat. "I'm glad you came. But with what just happened there, the timing looks funny. Why did you come?"

"I was summoned," Quinn said simply. He sounded sincere; Colrand strained his Force senses but couldn't detect anything useful. "The instructions ordering me here were minimal."

"Do you know if you're staying?"

"I don't know. I suspect that your mother will seek reassignment for me as soon as she finds out I'm here."

"Huh." That was a shame. Colrand had too many questions to answer in just a few hours. Or days. "So is this about the war?"

"Every assignment I've had since the war broke out was directly related to the effort. I could conceivably act as liaison and advisor to a direct military effort spearheaded by the Wrath."

"Maybe. That doesn't explain why she had to stop Wynston."

"Colrand…" Quinn was quiet for a moment. He was such a restrained man, so cautious. He hid a lot. Colrand wanted to know. "That was my first conversation with that man since I left your mother's service. Perhaps things have changed that I didn't see. But he never shows his true intentions, and he there is always a purpose to what he does show. And, the moment something he considered entertaining became available, he was always a remorseless opportunist."

"You're wrong," said Colrand. "He's a good person."

"And yet our ultimate master has decreed he must die." Quinn stared at the fire a moment longer, then looked to Colrand. "Be that as it may. Tell me about yourself. Aren't you anxious to go to Korriban at this point?"

They didn't exactly sit down and make themselves comfortable, but they talked.

Ruth didn't understand what she had just done.

Her orders were Wynston had to die, and she carried out her orders. In the most constructive way possible, she did. But how was there a constructive way to kill him?

The paralytic was wearing off, and her arms ached and burned with the memory of raising her sabers against him. She stirred. She was slightly restrained. Blankets. She was in her own room. Wynston had brought her home. She forced herself to her feet, started limping back out toward her ship. She had to give chase. She had to…

What is wrong with you?

She stumbled by the doorway and threw up.

She couldn't press on, not now. The urgency of the hunt had faded, and she was tired. Tired and sick at heart.

There was a glass of water by her bed. She drained it then got up to wash up and change. It was full dark outside but she wasn't ready to sleep. She had better go do…something. Check on Colrand. Check the gardens. Check something, make it normal, make her heart stop tearing at her like this. Wynston. She'd tried to kill him. She had to. She mustn't.

She dragged herself out to the living room and stopped, suddenly desperate to balance on her last shred of nerve. Malavai Quinn was standing by the fire.

He noticed her movement and knelt, instantly, bowing his head. "My lord Wrath," he said in the familiar voice that seemed to rip the world out from under her.

Seeing a recent picture was nothing like seeing him. Here. In this room. There was more grey in that black hair than she had thought. He had gained a little weight. He was still impeccably dressed. He was here.

After a few long moments, he rose. He held himself with pride, as ever, and the lines beginning to set in his face did nothing to mar the handsomeness she so hated. He looked well older than forty-five, but strong as he had always been.

She shook herself out of shock and found wild anger in its place. "Explain yourself, captain," she snapped.

"Moff, actually, my lord," he said, his voice staying quiet and deferential.

"Explain whatever you are, Quinn. Where is my son?"

"Colrand already retired for the night. We spoke for some time."

"Why are you here?"

"I am here at the behest of the Imperial Guard. I would not have defied your will for anything less, my lord. I am here to assist you in the Emperor's campaign."

Which she still had no information on. "What do you know about that?"

"Only that my presence is required here for it. I was under the impression that it would already be in progress." One eyebrow lifted slightly. "What battle did you just come from, my lord?"

Something caught in her throat. She forced her way past it to say "An assassination. One kill. I don't need you here."

"So it's true," he said, studying her with that heart-rending intensity he had. "You did confront the agent."

"That's none of your concern."

"It is the only concern I have, my lord." He frowned at an imaginary something just past her elbow. "It seems to border on the sadistic to send me to watch you carry out that particular endeavor. Nevertheless, here we are. Consult with your masters to confirm if you wish; I am not free to leave this place."

If the intent of this new campaign wasn't to shred Ruth's sanity, she couldn't explain what was going on. She drew closer to the fire; it seemed to be the only warmth available. She had no answers, not until the Emperor's Hand or someone contacted her again.

"I hope Cole wasn't too upset," she said cautiously.

"No. He…welcomed me." Quinn was studying the fire now. His voice was quiet. "I always imagined he would look more like you."

Too much. Too much, too much, and she didn't even know where to start fixing it. "No," she said. "He takes after you. In more ways than one."

"He laughs the way you do."

And had Quinn, of all people, already succeeded in making Cole laugh? "Yes."

"I…I wish to minimize disruption here, my lord, but I hope I will be free to speak with him until such time as our orders become clear. It is…an opportunity I assumed would never come."

"He's always wanted to know you."

"And I him."

And so Ruth was three for three on breaking hearts one way or another today. And two of those had been drawn out for fifteen years. She shook her head sharply. "So what aren't you telling me about why you came here?"

"If I had more to say, I would. But I didn't ask. I certainly didn't anticipate how…fraught…the situation would be when I arrived."

"You always know the situation, Quinn." It had been so long since she had to drag the truth out of someone in her own home.

"I know the agent finally got in over his head." Quinn slightly adjusted his parade rest. He did that when he was nervous. "I know I have been sent, quite likely to offer the support services he is no longer in a position to render, in preparation for a new project. I infer that this project must be of tremendous importance, will likely require all the resources both of us can marshal, and was endangered by the agent's activities."

"You were sent to make it easier for me to kill my partner."

"My lord. Nothing makes that easier. If I can serve you I will, but if it is true that the agent is marked for death at your hand, the only possible comfort I have is to say that I'm sorry."

"Don't bother pretending you feel bad about a kill order on Wynston."

"He means nothing to me, it's you I fear for. The prospect of sacrificing your heart is far harder than that of sacrificing your life, my lord. Believe me, I know." He turned to her, his eyes nearly black in the uncertain light. "And I'm sorry."

"It isn't like that." She hadn't had a choice. "It isn't like that at all." The look on Wynston's face, the way he'd run. The fact that he'd had to run. Her, striking. Why had she done it? Maybe she wasn't that much better after all.

"You were told your duty. You sought to carry it out. In the end you will find that the details don't matter, my lord. We serve. We have no other defense." He looked away again. "And it doesn’t make anything better."

"Did they send you to tell me that?"

"No, my lord. That one's personal." He bowed his head a little and thought a moment before speaking again. "I had expected to support combat and advise you in strategy. I never meant…" He took an unsteady breath. "Never mind. It meant a great deal to me to meet our son. I should see myself to a room, my lord. I will await your orders in the morning."

"I'm awaiting orders, too," she said past the lump in her throat.

"We always have," he said, at once confident and sad. He bowed deeply. "Try to sleep, my lord. We can assess the situation in the morning. It helps to stay busy."

She fled that room and went to bed, and Wynston wasn't there, and it was because of her. She curled up against the wracking sobs and felt his absence like every caress taken away at once.

PSA: Quinn didn't have the excuse of Emperor mind control for this one. Sorry, dude, not the same, except perhaps in the subjective experience of doing it.

Contrast this reunion with the prime universe one, in which Quinn and Ruth's son is being a bratty familiar teenager: http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5007372&postcount=84 The dynamic under which Ruth and Quinn meet his time is wildly different, and their natural reactions to that will show.

I gave Quinn a promotion to Moff because…because reasons.

One of the handlers Wynston had assigned to keep Lord Scourge and Larr Gith occupied on the Aegis was awaiting him in the hangar. "Good eve…morning, sir. Any new orders?"

"Keep giving Scourge anything he needs for his ritual-tracking. I'm going to sleep. I'll be busy until tomorrow afternoon. This afternoon."

He stalked to his quarters without greeting anyone else. Once inside he just started pacing. No. No, no, and no. The Emperor's target was all wrong. There were a couple of figures that should've looked more strategically interesting than Wynston; to be honest he'd been watching to make sure of it. He should have had more time. Everything he had told Ruth was supporting the war effort. Everything he had done behind her back was done anonymously, with a different face. He should have had more time.

She shouldn't have been able to do that.

You should know you can terminate anyone if you really have to. He had spared one once, but even a strike like that was possible for some professionals, harder ones…She was never hard.

It wasn't her choice. You saw. Imagine if you'd had that keyword command. Be rational about this.

For fifteen years – no, seventeen – that voice, that mouth, those hands, those eyes have been nothing but –

Shut up. She's an uncontrolled element. It isn't her fault but it is your problem. You have to get Larr Gith to her; Orphea should be able to do that, easily, she was always meant to. Ruth doesn't know how advanced the disguise generators have gotten; she won't detect yours. Orphea can reach her. Assuming Quinn keeps his distance.

Why the hell is he there? I can't have him there. Ruth, my people can reason with; Ruth will be willing to go meet with people. Quinn's on the other side. I can't have him watching.

Dammit, I wish Cole hadn't been there. Sod Ruth's orders about Quinn, if not for Cole I would've removed the problem with one blaster shot.

The way she looked at me…

It had been some time since he'd felt iffy enough to drink himself to sleep; his quarters weren't stocked. He stole out into the hall and down to the big stock rooms. A sizeable bottle of anything at all, as long as it was strong.

Vector intercepted him on his way back to his quarters. The Joiner fell into step and smiled worriedly. "Wynston. We didn't realize you had returned."

"I stayed up late to get back," he said.

Vector kept pace with him. "There were difficulties?"

"Worst-case orders," he said. "Well, Larr Gith herself would've been worse. But close enough to worst-case." He took a drink, ignoring Vector's air of mild disapproval. "I wasn't ready."

"We doubt that one is ever ready to watch an ally turn. Even knowing it is forced."

"I still have Colrand. If Quinn gets out of the way we proceed just as we would have. If he doesn't…" Wynston tapped the disguise generator implanted in his hip. "If he doesn't I should bloody well move him aside and take his place."

"We have no construct for him, Wynston, and it would be detected from her knowledge of him in any case. It will not be forgiven."

"Does that matter so long as it lasts long enough for her to earn her freedom? I've already lost her, Vector." His head knew that wasn't true. His everything knew otherwise. He reached his own quarters and let Vector in with him. "I knew it might happen like this, and it did, and I wasn't prepared, and she went after me with – just nothing in her eyes, and now she's gone, and my attention should be on the mass destruction her master is preparing all around us and all I can think about is her."

"Should we strike directly at the Emperor? This would break his hold."

"First we would have to know where his true form is, and then he would still call her in to confront us. Scourge and Larr Gith would think nothing of striking her down if she got in our way. I can't let that happen." He gestured helplessly. Decided that that was another good opportunity to drink. "I've been failing spectacularly at not letting things happen. I should've just carbonized her on the spot. Frozen in carbonite, not burned to carbon. Freeze her, lock her up until this is resolved." A little more energy abandoned him. "But I need her."

Vector was mercifully quiet.

Wynston took in a breath. He huffed out a breath. Time to start in on the reassurance. "I'm not going to drag Ruth home in carbonite."

"Good," said Vector.

"And I'm not going to try to impersonate Quinn enough to fool her."

"Good."

"I'm also not going to walk up to the Emperor tomorrow and try to stab him myself."

"Good."

"I have never in my life been in this much pain. I can see why people try to avoid it."

"It is rare to hear you acknowledge it."

"Yes, well. My usual sounding board is gone."

"We will prevail. And her orders cannot last."

"Of course." He took another deep draught while gathering his thoughts. "Anyway, I bugged Ruth's ship prior to her last trip – not onboard audio, just transmissions; I have a little captured data about where her Voice is. I need our people on locating the Emperor's true form. I hate to call in SCORPIO, but if she's still lurking around that data conduit on Nar Shaddaa we should set her the challenge of deducing his location. I'll talk to Jaesa and see whether she's had word from the graduates of her little academy; the Emperor's got to be getting his fanatics from somewhere and if they recruit, sooner or later ordinary Sith in ordinary jobs may hear about it. We should touch base with Vette about artifact hunting, the big stuff. The powerful stuff. Anything that might give us an edge. Then…then I just need to deal with the same meeting I was going to arrange. This is within projected parameters. There's just one unexpected variable and we can work around him." He turned away from Vector. "Go. I've got some prep work to do–" he waved the bottle – "and Orphea will be ready for work by noon."

"We know that she loves you," Vector said gently.

Wynston knew that. He knew. Which was why his throat still wasn't working quite right. "Get out, Vector." He had exhausted the extent of what a listening ear could do.

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

"Are you ready?" he whispered, and captured her lips for a long few moments before letting her answer.

"No," she said hoarsely.

"Angle the hilt up. You'll want to strike the heart when you activate." He buried his fingers in her hair, gently worked it loose of its ties, kissed her again while she pulled him closer and struggled to drop her weapon. Somehow her hand wouldn't let go.

"Go on," he murmured. "Prepare now and you'll be able to make it quick." His scent had always been faint and subtle, even this close; it was shocking to smell it again. "Wouldn't that have made things simpler?"

With fresh agonizing clarity she remembered loving him. Remembered that this was the way to touch his face with her one free hand, this was the way to arch into him when he ran his hands up just so. Even so, she prepared to kill.

"Ready?" he asked again, very gently.

"No."

The dream changed.

Wynston was shorter, thinner, warmer, and she couldn't meet his eyes. He wrapped his arms around her and waited silently. It was her task to start this scene.

"I'm sorry," she said.

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

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

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

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

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

Quinn walked up out of nowhere and stopped a few meters away. "You did well," he said gently.

Ruth could finally drop the saber. She cradled Wynston's heavy head on her shoulder and held on to him. It hurt, everywhere, everything. It hurt so much she could barely think, and she still felt that the guilt wasn't complete yet. The real stuff would hit any moment now. "I was never in the dream for the next part," she said to Quinn. "What happens now?"

"Now you wait. Sooner or later it all happens again. That's how this world works." He looked around at the formless white around them. "Or were you asking whether it's going to hurt more than this? It will. Still, you did well." He bowed a small crisp bow, one fitting to one professional respectfully acknowledging another. Or to a distant acquaintance offering what condolences he could. Then he walked away again, leaving her suddenly, wholly alone.

Ruth, hon, you should probably come up with alternate means of working through your problems, because the dream thing isn't fun for you at all.

The old recurring dream: http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5205100&postcount=1626

It was raining harder than usual in the morning. Ruth put on the heaviest, most shapeless clothes she could find, and then armor, and then a coat. She considered wrapping a tarp over all that, or possibly just going back under the blankets for the day, but decided it would be better to get moving.

Quinn and Colrand were already in the kitchen, talking, smiling. Quinn at least put up some caution when he saw her.

"Morning, Mom," said Colrand. "Uh, how's it going?"

She had scarcely slept and she remembered too much of the sleeping. "Good enough," she croaked anyway.

To her surprise, Quinn reached across to a waiting serving droid to take up a steaming mug, which he pushed in her direction. "My lord. Hot chocolate, if you wish. Cole tells me you take it sweeter than I first attempted to order."

"He was gonna serve boiled bitterness," said Colrand. "With milk."

Which was what she had preferred ages ago. She had forgotten. That, and this bizarre facsimile of family life, made her a little sick. "I'm not hungry," she said, and walked out again.

Her steps quickened as she fled to the garden. The lilies were all slightly bowed under the rain; they seemed to stare at the ground, avoiding her and everything else around them.

It wasn't them she wanted anyway. She followed the winding path down toward the redblazes, all thorns half-hidden beneath nearly-glowing crimson flowers. Wynston loved to surround her with them during his visits. She hated, absolutely hated, that he had to die. It didn't make any sense. Her going along with it didn't make any sense. But it was necessary.

She wasn't going to hunt him. Not yet.

She knelt by one of the low bushes and tested her thumb against the thorn at the base of one flower. She slid up, considered snapping off the blossom to bring with her, decided it was better off where it was. She shouldn't ruin it.

Her thoughts felt numb and her heart didn't, if that made any sense. She stayed in place, wishing Wynston were here. Or even that he were across the galaxy, working his work, so long as he knew he could come home to her. She wished her home contained only her blood family and her chosen, with none of her mistakes.

Words cut through the hammering of the rain. "My lord?" There was a time when she had liked having her thoughts interrupted with that every thirty seconds, and a time after that when she had missed it. Right now it just sawed at her nerves. "There is an incoming holocall from the Emperor's Hand."

Ah. Her instructions. Maybe they would tell her which way Wynston had gone so she could keep at her job. She hoped not.

She didn't want to move.

"I can keep them occupied a while longer if you wish," Quinn said a little while later.

She didn't remember him being this solicitous when they'd been together. What his purpose was now – well, it was to get her to behave. She supposed they might think it effective to choose someone who had already demonstrated a willingness to inflict punishment for the job.

She braced her hands on her knees and struggled to her feet, fighting a wave of dizziness. She had consumed more drugs than food in the last twenty-four hours. She pulled herself to her full height, kept her chin up, and strode past Quinn, only to trip up on a loose cobblestone and stumble.

He was at her side in a moment, touching a hand to her elbow. Old habit; less physical support and more a reminder that he was there, ready to discreetly accept her weight if she needed it.

She jerked her arm away. "You haven't the right," she spat.

Silently he fell another couple of steps behind and followed her indoors.

Colrand was nowhere in sight. On the big holo, Servants One and Two were waiting.

Larr Gith yawned. "So am I meeting this girl or not?"

"That's the trick," said Orphea. "She's got a little less freedom to move than we had expected. Also she's never met me personally and the contact she has met, namely my employer, she's got a fresh hit out on."

"So? I go where I want. Call her, I'll sort it out if you can't."

Lord Scourge shot a dark look at Larr Gith before turning to Orphea. "She is not renowned for her diplomatic skills," he growled.

"Nobody said it was important to make friends in this process." Larr Gith tossed her head. "Too bad she's a woman. I have less pull there. I knew a man once who could talk his way anywhere I couldn't and do it without ruffling feathers, much. But he's not around these days."

"I do not think he would have been willing to talk his way up to another Emperor's Wrath," said Scourge.

"Depends." She looked to Orphea. "Is she pretty?"

Orphea congratulated herself on not choking. The most beautiful woman I've ever known, and even looking at you in cleaned-up form I can say that. But Orphea's straight. "She's, um…I guess?" Okay, I could've been more generous than that.

"Good enough for him." Larr Gith flashed a smile and shook her head. "Never mind. Give me either a holofrequency or some coordinates and I'll go meet your girl. I'd like to see anyone stop me."

"I cannot get you a free walk onto Dromund Kaas again," Lord Scourge grumbled.

"I can," said Orphea. "But let's do this carefully, yes?"

*

Orphea made the holocall alone. She would stay in character, but she did indeed want to be careful.

Colrand answered. "My lord," said Orphea, and nodded respectfully. "I'm Orphea. I'm with Wynston's people."

"You are? Is he okay?"

"He's alive. You understand he can't be around for a while."

"Yeah."

"I take it the Wrath is already back on the job?" Orphea said apprehensively.

"Yeah." Colrand looked somewhere off cam. "She's in a briefing or something right now."

"Has she livened up any?"

"Some." His face suggested it wasn't necessarily in a good way.

"I see. Listen, I'd like to meet with her. Wynston told you, we found someone who could help. If there's a way we can get together…"

"Don't know if he also told you, Moff Quinn's here. He's…kind of Team Emperor, no matter what. I dunno how easy it'd be to explain you being here."

"It's the Wrath's own house. She can host who she likes."

"Maybe." Cole looked away. Shuffled his feet a little. "Listen, uh, Orphea. Is Wynston sure about all this?"

"We have compelling reasons, Cole…rand." Don't be familiar. Also don't burden the youngster with too much, including the Emperor's real game. "We'll be in a better position to talk about it once the Wrath is more herself."

"Okay," he said dubiously. "Anyway, you should think about coming in as Jaesa's friends or something. She introduces, you know, Sith, all the time."

"I'll do that. Keep this holofrequency and ask the Wrath to call us when she's done with her briefing, all right?"

"Yeah. Uh, just...don't ask her about Wynston, okay? And let him know she's sorry. Really sorry."

Orphea's chest hurt a little. "He knows," she said. "If you ever wonder why we're sure about this covert work? The fact that she had to do that is a big part of it."

"Yeah."

Orphea wanted to say more. Something encouraging, something that the boy would accept from Wynston. But he wouldn't accept it from a stranger, and Orphea's identity was one more secret he shouldn't have to handle.

One person who could handle it was Jaesa. Time to see if she could finagle an introduction.

Orphea walked back out to the lounge where Larr Gith and Scourge waited; Larr Gith was brushing her shining waist-length hair while Scourge read. Both looked up.

"So are we going somewhere that isn't covered in cultists for once?" said Larr Gith.

"Not yet."

She rolled her eyes. "Right."

Orphea really needed to find something to keep the Jedi occupied. "Have I showed you the Aegis's cantina? I think you'd like it."

Larr Gith perked up. "Beats hanging out with this guy."

Guh. Ruth's day is gonna be really long. Cole's got a lot to explain. Quinn's got a lot to get yelled at for, maybe, if Ruth is feeling up to it. So much! Gah! Things happening! Angst bubbling beneath!

Larr Gith mostly has to look fabulous for now. Up to this point she has spent more time out in the field than on the Aegis. Worlds to save and all that. I'm sure she'll appreciate the cantina's bar; Wynston himself had a hand in picking the selection, and what are you going to use a massive intelligence apparatus for if not to locate the most delicious beverages in the galaxy?

This is something that has been bothering me lately. I know Ruth and Wynston love each other, but Wynston not being monogamist while in a relationship with one... how has this worked so well over the long term? I figure Ruth doesn't want to get married again because lolQuinn, but she also isn't bothered about being in a relationship with a man who can and will have sex with someone as part of a mission. Human nature would trend toward jealousy, paranoia, asking questions, inquiring about bringing home unwanted visitors (in the form of Space STDs). I know Ruth has known Wynston for many years, but that just gives her more examples of just what the man is capable of on the field.

Is this something that is outright avoided so the relationship doesn't end? I mean, you say it's not a dealbreaker, but I can't remember a time when this subject is even broached. Perhaps I've simply forgotten. The only bits I recall of Ruth thinking about Wynston and his missions were times when she was worried for his safety. There wasn't any sign that a rogue thought of "I wonder who he'll sleep with to complete this one" popped up.

What exactly is their relationship? I can see the love, but I can't, in my limited, biased mind, see how this relationship works without Ruth being paranoid or slightly jealous (even if she deems it irrational behavior). It just bothers me.

I'm probably the only one.

>.>

<.<

[poof]

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

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

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

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

"Wrath. Your servant has arrived safely?"

Ruth gaped at Servant One for half a second. "'Servant' is really not the…ugh. Yes. The Moff is here."

"Good. His forces will coordinate with your own."

"The command is one," contributed Servant Two. She hated the sound of his voice, and had ever since the first time he'd upset baby Colrand.

"Your strike against the agent Wynston failed," Servant One said coldly. "The search will proceed. He threatens the Emperor's plan, and his harassment will not be tolerated."

"What is this plan, anyway?" Ruth asked flatly.

Servant One scowled. "Our master's rituals must not be interrupted. You will stand guard. Destroy those who interfere. Guard his initiates."

"And put an end to treason," said Servant Two.

"That can be arranged," said Ruth. They didn't offer the most satisfying explanation of the situation, but it would have to do. Wynston's people might be able to shed some light; she could get some use out of them before she…before she did what was required.

"While the search for Wynston continues, your first target dwells on a distant planet: a nest of rebellion that occupies a location we require. Root them out. Clear the way."

"It will be as you say."

The Servants hung up. Ruth considered her prospects and didn't like any of them.

Quinn's voice intruded on her thoughts. "My command ship is stationed in orbit; we can leave at any time."

"I'm not going anywhere yet," she snapped. "Where's Young Briggs? I'll have him set you up with network access for your correspondence."

Right on cue, the middle-aged servant appeared from the hallway. "My lord?"

"Get this one set up with a console, would you? Outer access only, he doesn't need the local systems." Ruth scowled at Quinn. "Now excuse me."

Colrand caught up with her in the hallway. He looked even paler than usual. "Mom. Got a minute?"

Ah, something that wasn't her failure with Wynston or her ongoing irritation with Quinn. "Yes, absolutely."

They stepped into the den. Colrand, looking nervous, shut the door. "Um. While you were doing your thing, I got a call from one of Wynston's people. They had some news."

She stiffened. "They called you?"

"You were busy. Look, they said Wynston's okay."

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "I see."

"Some of them want to meet up somewhere. They've got…I mean, did he ever tell you about your orders?"

"Tell me what?"

"The Emperor's command. It's not just advice, we think he's controlling you. You didn't have a choice, about Wynston, it wasn't your fault."

"I don't want to talk about that," Ruth said automatically. "I did what I had to do."

"We both know you would never, ever hurt him if you had the choice. Mom, you've never cared about anyone as much as you do about him."

"I care about you," she said. "Now drop it."

"Orphea said that's the Emperor's will. Not yours."

"And this Orphea is what to me?"

"She's with him. Professionally, I mean."

"And he…" Ruth stopped. "Stars. You may be right. It's fading, but I think…but even if it's true, Cole, we don't have countermeasures." She put her head in her hands. "Even if we can say it isn't my fault, it'll be my hand."

"No, Mom. He's gonna be okay. They said they found some people who can help. We'll figure it out."

Ruth made an effort for a smile. She nodded. "We will. I've apparently got a plan to uncover while Wynston…does what he has to."

She hugged Colrand then, very tightly, and did not talk about the possibility that he might be a target someday, too.

He stepped away without bringing it up himself. "And then Father," he said. "Job aside. Could you…give him a chance?"

No. "I'll think about it."

"When we found out what happened with Wynston, when he heard…Mom, he gets it. You should've seen him."

"No, he doesn't get it. What I did was forced." It was a relief to think that. It really was. "What he did was chosen."

"I kind of…the way he talks, I'm not sure he knows the difference. Not once he's got his orders."

"He doesn't know the difference, Cole. We do. Never forget that."

"He was happy to see you, you know. I know there's…there's a lot of stuff going on, but talking to me, he's grateful to be seeing both of us. Just, please. Give him a chance."

"I did."

"It's different now." He quieted a little. And pleaded. "I just found him."

"Cole." She hugged him again. "I'll do what I can, all right?" She looked up at his face, handsome, familiar, loved. "You are the last person I want hurt by everything that's going on."

"Wynston's in danger. You're torn up about it. My father is here and he's just, we're catching up on everything and we still can't trust him." He smiled weakly. "What's not to love?"

"You know, the whole reason I kept you away from Korriban was to avoid violent political complications."

"Yeah, well. Wrath at home, right?"

"Yes, I'm afraid. Wrath at home." She smiled sadly. "I should call…who did you say it was?"

"Wrath. It's an honor to meet you. I'm Orphea." Respectful and impressed, that was Orphea, who, while not young, still hadn't kept such heady company before.

"You contacted my son," Ruth's holo image said flatly.

"It was urgent. Wynston recommended it."

"Take your calls to me." Impossible, unfortunately, since Ruth was an open book to her potential enemy. She seemed to realize it, too. "Whenever you can," she amended.

"I will. He's level-headed, but it's never fair to involve a youngster." That was patently untrue, or at least, it was often necessary regardless of fairness. Not the point at the moment. "Wynston's all right and he's making sure that as few people as possible know where he is. He won't make it easy to track him down."

"Good. Now, my orders are on him alone at present. You think I can still work with you?"

Stars, yes. "Absolutely. Your attempt on his life was coerced. All our resources point to the Emperor's influence as a powerful short-term mind control with uncertain long-term effects. We have the word of an expert on that. If we can break that, Wrath, and shield you from the Emperor's investigation, he'll have no hold over you. And then you'll be able to help us with the long game."

"I'll be able to see your boss without trying to kill him." Ruth sounded like that was more important to her. It eased Orphea's heartache to hear it.

"That, too," the agent said casually. Then again, the other consideration was the fate of the entire galaxy. "I think you'll find our reasons for this particular long game compelling."

"Could you be a little more vague?" Ruth said impatiently.

"We need to talk in person. I'll bring in Jaesa on this call, if you don't mind; she's a likely introduction point, a believable one, in case certain parties will be watching and reporting."

"Go ahead."

Orphea cut Jaesa's call in. The motherly Sith nodded greeting. "Ruth," she said. "Are you all right?"

"Something to discuss later," said Ruth. Pain behind those words. "So, are you going to bring some friends of yours to meet me for a thoroughly casual lunch? Or maybe midnight snack, I'd like to do this sooner rather than later."

"Tomorrow will have to suffice," Orphea said regretfully. "Is it safe to meet at your house?"

"No. When the Servants aren't yelling at me, Moff Quinn is." A prospect that Orphea found infuriating. "How's your old place in the city, Jaesa?"

"I don't stay there much since we set up the academy, but it's usable."

"Let's do it."

"One thing, Wrath," said Orphea. "The woman you're going to meet…she's a bit of a personality. Please remember that she's well qualified to help."

Ruth cocked an eyebrow. "I will, then."

The call ended, and Orphea gathered her thoughts. She was dying to see Ruth. It chafed to think that Quinn was there with her, lining up plans for her once again. To have no better company than him after an ordeal like yesterday must be…Orphea hated it. She hated it, and she couldn't help. The best she could offer was Larr Gith, who at that moment seemed like the least promising candidate for succor in the galaxy.

No, second least promising. Quinn was still first.

She went to find Lord Scourge. Talking strategy wouldn't wholly take her mind off Ruth, or Quinn, or the way Ruth had looked during Wynston's struggle for his life, her grip on his throat…but talking strategy would be productive, and Orphea needed something productive just then.

The rain lashed at the lilies. Ruth stood on the verandah and thought of Hutta, of trying to run him through. She heard the door rattle but she didn't move. Instead she just hoped whoever it was would go away.

"It would be helpful to sleep, my lord."

She stared straight ahead. "Not going to happen." She was tired, but her mind wouldn't let her rest.

"I can offer some sedati-"

"No."

"I have no intention of harming you."

"You very rarely do." She sneered. "It's just your off days I worry about."

"We don't have time to debate this, my lord." Then, more quietly, "I doubt we could ever have enough time."

"Is there that much to say?"

Quinn, having stopped a few paces away from her, sighed. "Maybe not." He set himself at parade rest. "It is only fair for you to know that, this assignment notwithstanding, you are not in my direct chain of command. But we answer to the same will and our goals are aligned."

"I have less than no use for someone else's creature here. And if it weren't for Cole, you walking through my door with that announcement that would end badly for you."

"If it weren't for Cole, I would have seriously considered disputing this summons."

"I suppose that's your idea of a strong statement."

From the corner of her eye she saw that he wasn't looking at her. "You should try to get some sleep."

"Skip the advice."

"I know I am not welcome here, but in this and in what is to come, I am not your enemy."

The statement hit her far harder than it should have. "Do you have any idea how much I hear that?" It came out as a sob.

His composure wavered. "My lord?"

"You are the last person alive I would have wanted for help of any kind, and now they're telling me you're the best I've got." She took an unsteady breath. "You treacherous son of a *****. You're what I've got."

He took an intense interest in the garden. "You also have your son," he said steadily. "A remarkable son, one whose love for you is clear in everything he says. You have every reason to be proud of him. Furthermore you are in the right."

"If this were right, my real partner would be here to support it."

"Your actions seem to give the lie to that."

"I didn't have a choice," she snapped.

"Nor do any of us."

"No! I mean I didn't have a choice! The Emperor's command, it can't be resisted. He could turn anyone against anyone. I had to, had to watch. Worse than that. I had to carry the fight myself, attacking one of the two people I would never, ever hurt."

Quinn looked at her, frowning. "He…controlled you, such that you truly did not choose your actions."

"Yes."

"My lord, that's a nonsensical claim."

"You don't know his power. That's what he does, and I've only just begun to understand it."

"It may be a comfort to make up something to believe," he said solemnly, "but the exercise doesn't become you."

"I didn't make it up." Did she? No, everyone else agreed with her. Well, everyone associated with Wynston. But Wynston was a marked enemy with every reason to...no. "I didn't."

Quinn examined her face intently. "My lord, when is the last time you slept?"

"Why are you so obsessed with my sleeping habits?"

"Because you're better off sane."

What a joke. "I don't think that happens either way."

"Yes, it does," he said fiercely. "You've survived every hardship thus far and come out stronger for it. You'll survive this."

It didn't feel like it. "You don't know anything, Quinn."

"I do." He straightened out of parade rest, letting his arms fall to his sides. "I do. I didn't seek out knowing you, my lord, and for a long time I struggled to know you less well. For both our sakes. Matters went differently, and I do know. I am a soldier, nothing more, but what has been asked of us has not been so different."

"I wanted to know you," she said bitterly. "More every day. Now that I do I wish I hadn't tried."

The rain kept falling, and Quinn didn't move, and Ruth was too tired to run away.

It was some time before Quinn spoke again. "It comes apart quickly. Doesn't it."

"Comes apart?" She couldn't face the person who mattered. If the compulsion came back full force…she couldn't risk it. She couldn't see him again. "It's already gone."

Quinn faced the rain and was quiet.

The thought of Wynston was battering at her defenses, and it was true that Quinn knew what must be happening, and she hurt. "When I woke up this morning, for just a moment I thought things were normal and he was here." She bit her lip, steadied her nerve. "And then I remembered he wasn't. And then I remembered why."

His voice had a rough edge to it. "Should I tell you that fades before too long?"

"Is it true?"

"No. But the plausible falsehoods might be of use."

"No."

"Ah. If I find something that is, I will inform you." He turned back to her, and a gust of wind carried his words. "If there were one thing I could have that you could trust my offering to you, it would be that."

She hurt, and the wind was harsh. A sudden weakness drove her to step forward and press herself to him, hands on his chest, head tucked under his chin. Swiftly his arms closed around her; he lightly rested his cheek on her head, and otherwise he stayed still.

She couldn't feel his heartbeat through his thick uniform. Perhaps that would have been too much. She stood, and hurt, and he held her without seeking to pull her in closer or talk.

She sniffled. "You still haven't the right," she said forlornly.

"I know. But so long as I am required, I am here."

That got her crying in earnest.

He stroked her hair, running lightly down her back over and over. "I've never seen you cry."

"Things were never this bad." She hiccupped, or whatever it was Sith did when they were too dignified to hiccup. "Besides. Back when I cared what you thought, I didn't want you to see me doing anything this unseemly." Her tears were dripping onto his uniform. "Still think I'm strong?"

"Yes."

"Liar. You always lied."

"Not this time." After that he was quiet again. She still didn't have the heart to push him away.

A long time later she sniffled and shivered. "I shouldn't be doing this."

"Of course." He let her go and held very still, watching her, when she backed away. "Will you be able to sleep?"

"I think so. Some."

"Waking up is the hardest part. But you'll need the rest." He offered his arm, and she took it to proceed back indoors and to her room. At the door he disentangled himself and bowed. "I'll take my leave. Until you need me again, my lord."

"…Thank you, Quinn." Whatever his motives, he had given her a little time of not feeling alone in her guilt.

He nodded formally, his expression as close to kind as she had ever seen it. Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

Don't do it, Ruth! Argh! Don't believe Captain Representative of Satan! Don't accept his world!

Wynston, back in the day, skipped straight to physical comfort and an insistent inquiry on what was wrong. Quinn is more…support staff…about it.

The prime universe order on Larr Gith faded to nonbinding status in mere weeks. It's hard to safely test the limits on that.