The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!

[Eanelinea]

(Featuring my Smuggler; Dean Stryder. And though the game mechanics only allow certain races at the moment, for my head-canon purposes he is an Epicanthix.)

 

 

“You ever thought about growing up to be something other than a Captain?” Corso asked lightly, leaning his head back to take another swig of his drink. It was a rather slow evening, and now that Dean had berthed his ship in the port, the others had taken off almost immediately to the nearest cantina.

 

Corso had left with them, but returned soon afterwards with drinks and food to share between him and the Captain who had declined the offer to join the rest. Said food was now demolished, the wrappers and containers lying open on the caf table.

 

Slouched down next to Corso in the lounge couch Risha had swindled from a friend awhile back, with his long legs perched up on the small table, Dean’s brow furrowed. He absently crossed his left leg over his right, and settled the chilled glass bottle of his beverage on his thigh as he pondered a response to his companion and second in command.

 

“Not really, I suppose,” he offered after a moment of silence.

 

He took a sip of his drink, and then turned his head to gaze at Corso, his golden near-Human eyes glinting under the overhead artificial lighting. His sculpted jaw was slightly darkened by the onset of an early five-o’clock shadow, and when he reached up to lazily scratch an itch the scratching sound was a little loud in the otherwise silent compartment.

 

He’d been told more than once before that if he ever gave up the life of smuggling he could always make a solid career on his looks and physique alone. While it was incredibly tempting, Dean preferred his current avenue of credit-making to modeling and plastering his face on HoloNet channels; he had enemies in both high and low places.

 

It would be incredibly stupid of him if he gave them an easier way to find him.

 

Corso pulled one leg up to curl under him and turned his body slightly in his seat to face his Captain more comfortably. He cocked his head slightly in question.

 

“Whaddya mean?” he asked curiously, his drink now laying limp in his grip, forgotten.

 

“Well,” Dean started, leaning his head back onto the couch, mashing his already wayward and relentlessly untidy, thick dark hair against the seat cushion. “As a kid growin’ up in the Empire,”

 

At this, Corso’s eyes widened, but he remained silent. He never knew the Captain wasn’t a native Republic citizen. Even though they have spent quite the time together ever since Ord Mantell, there was still so much about Dean that Corso just didn’t know.

 

Not that the Captain was fond of just spouting off anything about his past to begin with.

 

“Most of my days were full of making sure I had enough food to eat, and a place to lay my head at night. Not only was I only a near-Human in a rather Human superior society, I was also an orphan.”

 

For only a moment, Dean fell silent and his eyes looked off into something faraway and ghostly. When Corso continued to stare at him, silently waiting for him to continue, Dean gave a rather soft yet, indignant snort before continuing.

 

“I guess you could say that after spending so many nights alone outside, I grew an affinity for seeing the stars overhead. It became sort of like a method of escape. I thought only about being able to be free- from my situations, my problems… Hell, free from my life. Once I escaped, I never looked back.”

 

Dean gave Corso a half-grin, though the usual mirth and spirit that shone in his eyes were slightly clouded.

 

“I never thought of being a Captain until I stumbled upon the job. Before that, I was content doing things my way and having to answer to nobody.”

 

Corso nodded, feeling another level of respect rising in him for his Captain.

 

“And now?” he asked, just for jest.

 

This time the devil-may-cry smile that twisted Dean’s lips was completely genuine, and Corso found himself smiling along, too. His Captain’s infectious charm was like gravity itself- wherever it formed, those around it usually fell into its pull.

 

It was exceedingly hard to pull away from, but Corso knew that he didn’t mind the weight of it at all.

 

“Well, now,” Dean said, the usual laughter lacing his voice and making the atmosphere seem ten times brighter within seconds. “Now, I’m a Captain, I control my situations, my problems, and my life. I have to answer to nobody, and I make credits to boot. The last thing on my mind is being stuck somewhere, starving, with nowhere to go.”

 

“Must be nice,” Corso agreed absently.

 

The look of pure contentment that settled over Dean’s face did something funny to Corso’s chest.

 

“It’s as close to Heaven as I’ll ever get,” Dean assured his friend.

 

“You and me, both.” Corso muttered causing Dean to chuckle in agreement.

 

The two men stared at each other silently, that level of communication they’d developed over the time spent working together seeming to pass between them without hindrance. After another moment, Corso grinned and lifted his bottle.

 

Dean lifted his as well.

 

When they collided their drinks together in silent toast, the sound rang out through the compartment; loud and clear.

 

 

Author's Note: I just wanted to try my hand at another of my characters- but I shall be returning to my JK soon enough! Maybe there will be future crossovers and cameos between them?

 

Very nice. And I actually had to look up the species you see your Smuggler as. This was great. Can't wait to see more from you! BTW, LOVED Corso in this. =D

[Eanelinea]

I really like your JK/Doc pair, actually She's tolerant and finds his antics amusing rather than irritating, so it works. I think a lot of the pairs really depend on how you've built your toon and what kind of personality they have. Some just aren't compatible and some (like my trooper and Aric) fit so well they wouldn't even be able to imagine being with anyone else.

 

Oh definitely! My trooper and Jorgan FINALLY got married and talked kids. I can't wait for Cathar to come out and hopefully extra character slots because they WILL have a blood child together. BTW, all of my girls except for Eanelinea and Melony are human. Eanelinea was adopted into the family when she was a toddler (parents killed in the war).

 

Anyway, yeah my JK loves Doc a lot. And even though he CAN be an annoying little snot, she just sighs, facepalms, and visits her mom to whine at her about why her husband is a goof ball. But then Eanelinea mentions that Vector isn't exactly 'normal' either. lol

[elliotcat]

I really like your JK/Doc pair, actually She's tolerant and finds his antics amusing rather than irritating, so it works. I think a lot of the pairs really depend on how you've built your toon and what kind of personality they have. Some just aren't compatible and some (like my trooper and Aric) fit so well they wouldn't even be able to imagine being with anyone else.

 

Thiiiiiis so much. I was honestly surprised by how awesome Corso and Ayang are for each other. She pretends she's wild but really she's totally vanilla, I think that's why. Also, they can both whine about their families. I'm working on a longer story about them, but sadly I accidentally deleted a bunch of it and have to start over now! Ugh.

 

Meenah, my SI, and Andronikos...I'm still kinda figuring out. I think they work pretty well so far though. They're both really pragmatic and neutral.

 

RepublicGurl, I agree, your story is fantastic! First thing that came to mind when I saw your character's name was whether he might be a Homestuck reference...is he?! That would be the greatest thing EVER.

Edited June 21, 2012 by elliotcat

[Tatile]

I was considering writing out one of the scenes that I implied in an earlier short, but am not sure how much a philosophical debate of Jedi versus Sith ideologies and how it pertains to one's perception of self, but am not entirely sure if it would qualify as a 'confession'. I suppose it could, if I write it correctly (which I won't, didn't get any of the other prompts right).

 

Just talking out loud.

[elliotcat]

I was considering writing out one of the scenes that I implied in an earlier short, but am not sure how much a philosophical debate of Jedi versus Sith ideologies and how it pertains to one's perception of self, but am not entirely sure if it would qualify as a 'confession'. I suppose it could, if I write it correctly (which I won't, didn't get any of the other prompts right).

 

Just talking out loud.

 

You can take it in any direction you want, so feel free to post even if you feel like you didn't get it "right"...there's no "right" in this thread.

[Tatile]

Can't get it any more wrong than I already have done, I suppose. I'm curious to see what the next prompt(s) is(are), they're quite fun.

[bright_ephemera]

I had to delete my DS Sith War, she was on a server that was able to transfer to the same as my main toons and well, my main toons have my heart more. Also? Woot! Can't wait to see it!

 

Oh, my sig has the DS Warrior fic I've been at. She's not really close to friendly terms yet, but I'm having a great time along the way

 

And I think you'll find more than a couple Scourge fans wandering about...cause he's awesome! Hehe!

 

Scourge is so many kinds of amazing! I've been reluctant to write fic because it's so hard to guess where a long talk with him would go...he would challenge me and any character I'm smart enough to write.

 

I've been struggling to envision my main characters' surprising skills. Just about the only notable revelation would be the first time Quinn caught my warrior Ruth hip-deep in jury-rigged databank wiring for her slicing hobby: "Do you require...assistance, my lord?" as he scans the insane mess of nonregulation connectors, haphazard power distribution, outright unsafe splicing, cute-kitten pics on all the console screens...

[Tatile]

It could be an uncanny knack to turn anything "safe" into a death trap. Like cotton wool. Deadly cotton wool.

[RepublicGurl]

Very nice. And I actually had to look up the species you see your Smuggler as. This was great. Can't wait to see more from you! BTW, LOVED Corso in this. =D

 

Thank you! Yeah, in my mind I just saw my Smuggler not being quite Human. (I was actually inspired by the Imperial spy character in Fatal Alliance who was also an Epicanthix.)

 

And I think Corso is just darling. I love the stories of him and the fem!Smuggler, but I also firmly believe that there's plenty of room for growth between him and a male Smuggler as well.

Edited June 22, 2012 by RepublicGurl

[kabeone]

And I think Corso is just darling. I love the stories of him and the fem!Smuggler, but I also firmly believe that there's plenty of room for growth between him and a male Smuggler as well.

 

I wouldn't have thought so until I read your story, but now I'm a believer More more!

[RepublicGurl]

I wouldn't have thought so until I read your story, but now I'm a believer More more!

 

Oh my gosh, you flatter me!

 

I think I'll probably alternate between my JK and Smuggler for the prompts. I'm super excited to write more, too! Hahaha.

[Morgani]

I wasn't going to write a Confession short, but Eanelinea got me thinking and something shook lose and this is what tumbled out. Its very rough, I'm sorry. I don't think I like it, but it's how i see things going so it's part of the story now.

 

Characters are Adris Westan, my male sniper

Brei'yu Kodrevas my female operative

Kaliyo (whom i need to start giving bigger parts to)

Vector

 

 

“That's it, that's the plan.” Former Imperial Agent Adris Westan crossed his arms and swiveled to lean against the holo terminal, very specifically and carefully avoiding the raging gaze of his crew. Well, only one of his crew was raging, and he had no remedy for it.

 

“So. This all hinges on me. On...” Brei'yu Kodrevas left the thought unfinished. Westan hadn't explained to Kaliyo, Vector, and Raina exactly what it was Brei'yu was going to do, he'd only left it very clear that it was up to her and her alone.

 

“You're the only one that can. It's why I...” Westan bit off his sentence too late and sighed. He'd just made his night harder. Miserably, he flicked his eyes to her, expecting the shock of cold fury, the sharp breath before she laid him open with words. To his dismay, and ever growing misery, she only gazed back distant and slightly empty. She looked hurt. He'd hurt her feelings. What the hell was happening?

 

He watched her turn her back on him and panicky confusion welled up in his chest. “Brei'yu,” he began, unsure what else was going to fall out of his mouth at that moment. This wasn't like her, very unlike the spitfire woman who shrugged entire worlds off her shoulders.

 

She interrupted him, her voice as heavy as stone. “You obviously have my role all figured out for me. We going to do this? Or is there a part two to this conversation?”

 

Westan felt his hand grope the air in front of his chest even as his mind grappled with itself to find the words to fix this. But when he remained silent, she shook her head and walked to the door. “Change your clothes, Vector. If this is going to work you're going to need to look less royalty and more like you just got out of the shower. Kaliyo, where's that lightsabre you lifted off that dead Sith apprentice? Don't give me that look, I know what you did.”

 

Kaliyo couldn't keep the grin off her face. “I have been dying to tell someone all week. You have no idea. When you broke his neck and he just sort of crumpled that thing shut off and was just lying there, you know? Thought maybe I could start a collection.”

 

“Give it to Vector, it will sell the whole... Jedi thing.”

 

“Aw, you kidding?” Kaliyo turned the stink eye on Vector who serenely ignored her.

 

“He'll give it back,” Brei'yu said, frowning at the pout on Kaliyo's lips. “Put your name on it somewhere, he won't keep it.”

 

Westan listened to Brei's voice fade away as his team walked out. Vector paused at the door, looked back at him with a look he couldn't read. “I know,” Westan said. “I know. I borked something up. Again.”

 

Vector turned his head, looking down the hall after the women. “Do you love her, Agent?”

 

Adris Westan could count on one hand the number of times he'd been shocked into silence. He shouldn't have been surprised when it came to Vector, however. The Joiner still had trouble relating to regular people. He'd lost much of what made him human after the Joining, and the casual knowledge of how to converse was just one facet that tripped the other man up. Spending so much time with Westan's crew had helped to remind him of his humanity, but like a child, sometimes Vector just told it like it was. Or outright asked how it was.

 

When Westan didn't answer right away, Vector nodded and Westan was certain he was seeing resignation on the Joiner's face. It was hard to tell sometimes.

 

Finally, his tongue started working again. “Once, a long time ago I would have said yes without hesitation. When I was still a kid, and when I didn't know any better. If I had any idea that she might love me in return, then yeah. I think I could be in love with her. But that's not how it is. That's not how I work. And Brei? When she does something it's with her entire self. There's no room for anything else. She never was in love with me, however much she loved, and loves me.”

 

Vector put his hand on the door frame and seemed to sag against it. His head was bowed, his free hand fisted at his side.

 

Westan began to worry that Vector was ill. Which would be unfortunate as this plan really needed him for it to work. “Vector? Are you alright?”

 

Vector regained some semblance of his composure. “We are... We are not ill,” he said as though reading Westan's mind. “We didn't realize how much we wished to hear that. To know it.”

 

“I'm afraid I'm not getting what you're saying.”

 

“It is both a comfort and a grief that you do not desire her. We... we know she will never look at us the way we wish her to, but knowing that we do not lose her to you, who we see as our brother...” Vector's thoughts trailed away as Westan's mouth fell open.

 

“Are... are you... What are you saying? Do you... um.” Westan watched Vector straighten. The other man's face was serene again, his hands clasped in front of him, his posture relaxed.

 

“We are in love with Brei'yu.”

 

The statement was so final, so assured. So Westan immediately felt like an idiot when “Are you sure?” tumbled out of his mouth.

 

Vector nodded once.

 

Westan took a moment to process. Vector allowed him the silence to do so. “I'm not going to tell you you're wrong, Vector,” Westan said after a moment. “But I do want to make sure you know what you are getting into.”

 

Vector slanted his head to side. “We are getting into nothing, Agent.”

 

“But you just said-”

 

“A confession between friends. Between brothers that goes no further than this room.”

 

Confusion had Westan shaking his head. “So what? You don't want her to know?”

 

“You said yourself, Brei'yu gives her all in all things. She doesn't notice us, and we understand why. When this is over, we don't believe she will stay. This is better. For all.”

 

“Look, Vector,” Westan sighed in a gush, putting his words in order in his head. “Brei's pretty... reckless. Sure. She's also loud, sarcastic, and more than a little bitter. But more than that, and I say this as her best friend because as much as she hates it, I am. Brei is also unobservant. But only when it comes to her. Herself. That girl could tell you how many stripes were down a Twi'lek's lekku from fifty paces while he was turning a corner in a sandstorm, but you ask her what she ate for breakfast, she's going to have no idea for a good ten minutes. She's noticed you, but you're so damn... serene, so-” Westan waved his hand around the air by head, looking for the word he wanted. “Emotionless around her. Now I know you aren't devoid of emotion. But she hasn't seen what I know.”

 

“We are content,” Vector said.

 

“Great! That's great. Be content. But don't let being content stagnate you. You came with me to show the Kiliks the universe. To help them experience what's beyond the hives on Alderaan.”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“I'm saying quit being lame. You're not afraid to take a blaster shot to the face. So I know you're not afraid of a little emotion.” Westan rubbed his chin, remembered idly that he needed to shave and wondered if he had time for that before Brei'yu drug him off the ship and down planetside. But more to the point, he liked this idea of Vector having interest in Brei'yu. It could have been Temple for all it mattered, but Westan liked this human vulnerability in Vector.

 

The men eyed each other as Westan nodded along with the ideas flying through his head. “Yeah, we can do this.”

 

“I'm sorry? We can do what?” Vector asked, feeling a sudden trepidation.

 

“We can get you the girl.”

 

[Crezelle]

I wasn't going to write a Confession short, but Eanelinea got me thinking and something shook lose and this is what tumbled out. Its very rough, I'm sorry. I don't think I like it, but it's how i see things going so it's part of the story now.

 

Characters are Adris Westan, my male sniper

Brei'yu Kodrevas my female operative

Kaliyo (whom i need to start giving bigger parts to)

Vector

 

 

“That's it, that's the plan.” Former Imperial Agent Adris Westan crossed his arms and swiveled to lean against the holo terminal, very specifically and carefully avoiding the raging gaze of his crew. Well, only one of his crew was raging, and he had no remedy for it.

 

“So. This all hinges on me. On...” Brei'yu Kodrevas left the thought unfinished. Westan hadn't explained to Kaliyo, Vector, and Raina exactly what it was Brei'yu was going to do, he'd only left it very clear that it was up to her and her alone.

 

“You're the only one that can. It's why I...” Westan bit off his sentence too late and sighed. He'd just made his night harder. Miserably, he flicked his eyes to her, expecting the shock of cold fury, the sharp breath before she laid him open with words. To his dismay, and ever growing misery, she only gazed back distant and slightly empty. She looked hurt. He'd hurt her feelings. What the hell was happening?

 

He watched her turn her back on him and panicky confusion welled up in his chest. “Brei'yu,” he began, unsure what else was going to fall out of his mouth at that moment. This wasn't like her, very unlike the spitfire woman who shrugged entire worlds off her shoulders.

 

She interrupted him, her voice as heavy as stone. “You obviously have my role all figured out for me. We going to do this? Or is there a part two to this conversation?”

 

Westan felt his hand grope the air in front of his chest even as his mind grappled with itself to find the words to fix this. But when he remained silent, she shook her head and walked to the door. “Change your clothes, Vector. If this is going to work you're going to need to look less royalty and more like you just got out of the shower. Kaliyo, where's that lightsabre you lifted off that dead Sith apprentice? Don't give me that look, I know what you did.”

 

Kaliyo couldn't keep the grin off her face. “I have been dying to tell someone all week. You have no idea. When you broke his neck and he just sort of crumpled that thing shut off and was just lying there, you know? Thought maybe I could start a collection.”

 

“Give it to Vector, it will sell the whole... Jedi thing.”

 

“Aw, you kidding?” Kaliyo turned the stink eye on Vector who serenely ignored her.

 

“He'll give it back,” Brei'yu said, frowning at the pout on Kaliyo's lips. “Put your name on it somewhere, he won't keep it.”

 

Westan listened to Brei's voice fade away as his team walked out. Vector paused at the door, looked back at him with a look he couldn't read. “I know,” Westan said. “I know. I borked something up. Again.”

 

Vector turned his head, looking down the hall after the women. “Do you love her, Agent?”

 

Adris Westan could count on one hand the number of times he'd been shocked into silence. He shouldn't have been surprised when it came to Vector, however. The Joiner still had trouble relating to regular people. He'd lost much of what made him human after the Joining, and the casual knowledge of how to converse was just one facet that tripped the other man up. Spending so much time with Westan's crew had helped to remind him of his humanity, but like a child, sometimes Vector just told it like it was. Or outright asked how it was.

 

When Westan didn't answer right away, Vector nodded and Westan was certain he was seeing resignation on the Joiner's face. It was hard to tell sometimes.

 

Finally, his tongue started working again. “Once, a long time ago I would have said yes without hesitation. When I was still a kid, and when I didn't know any better. If I had any idea that she might love me in return, then yeah. I think I could be in love with her. But that's not how it is. That's not how I work. And Brei? When she does something it's with her entire self. There's no room for anything else. She never was in love with me, however much she loved, and loves me.”

 

Vector put his hand on the door frame and seemed to sag against it. His head was bowed, his free hand fisted at his side.

 

Westan began to worry that Vector was ill. Which would be unfortunate as this plan really needed him for it to work. “Vector? Are you alright?”

 

Vector regained some semblance of his composure. “We are... We are not ill,” he said as though reading Westan's mind. “We didn't realize how much we wished to hear that. To know it.”

 

“I'm afraid I'm not getting what you're saying.”

 

“It is both a comfort and a grief that you do not desire her. We... we know she will never look at us the way we wish her to, but knowing that we do not lose her to you, who we see as our brother...” Vector's thoughts trailed away as Westan's mouth fell open.

 

“Are... are you... What are you saying? Do you... um.” Westan watched Vector straighten. The other man's face was serene again, his hands clasped in front of him, his posture relaxed.

 

“We are in love with Brei'yu.”

 

The statement was so final, so assured. So Westan immediately felt like an idiot when “Are you sure?” tumbled out of his mouth.

 

Vector nodded once.

 

Westan took a moment to process. Vector allowed him the silence to do so. “I'm not going to tell you you're wrong, Vector,” Westan said after a moment. “But I do want to make sure you know what you are getting into.”

 

Vector slanted his head to side. “We are getting into nothing, Agent.”

 

“But you just said-”

 

“A confession between friends. Between brothers that goes no further than this room.”

 

Confusion had Westan shaking his head. “So what? You don't want her to know?”

 

“You said yourself, Brei'yu gives her all in all things. She doesn't notice us, and we understand why. When this is over, we don't believe she will stay. This is better. For all.”

 

“Look, Vector,” Westan sighed in a gush, putting his words in order in his head. “Brei's pretty... reckless. Sure. She's also loud, sarcastic, and more than a little bitter. But more than that, and I say this as her best friend because as much as she hates it, I am. Brei is also unobservant. But only when it comes to her. Herself. That girl could tell you how many stripes were down a Twi'lek's lekku from fifty paces while he was turning a corner in a sandstorm, but you ask her what she ate for breakfast, she's going to have no idea for a good ten minutes. She's noticed you, but you're so damn... serene, so-” Westan waved his hand around the air by head, looking for the word he wanted. “Emotionless around her. Now I know you aren't devoid of emotion. But she hasn't seen what I know.”

 

“We are content,” Vector said.

 

“Great! That's great. Be content. But don't let being content stagnate you. You came with me to show the Kiliks the universe. To help them experience what's beyond the hives on Alderaan.”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“I'm saying quit being lame. You're not afraid to take a blaster shot to the face. So I know you're not afraid of a little emotion.” Westan rubbed his chin, remembered idly that he needed to shave and wondered if he had time for that before Brei'yu drug him off the ship and down planetside. But more to the point, he liked this idea of Vector having interest in Brei'yu. It could have been Temple for all it mattered, but Westan liked this human vulnerability in Vector.

 

The men eyed each other as Westan nodded along with the ideas flying through his head. “Yeah, we can do this.”

 

“I'm sorry? We can do what?” Vector asked, feeling a sudden trepidation.

 

“We can get you the girl.”

 

 

if 'ghoul lokin is involved in this plan, this will be epic.

[Morgani]

if 'ghoul lokin is involved in this plan, this will be epic.

 

I.... I had it all planned out. Now i need to go back and rework some things.

 

Crap, I need to sleep on this. But for you, Crezelle, I'll make it work.

[Crezelle]

I.... I had it all planned out. Now i need to go back and rework some things.

 

Crap, I need to sleep on this. But for you, Crezelle, I'll make it work.

 

make it so!

vector deserves all the luffins <3

[Tatile]

Even more pointless, unreadable drivel. Hurray!

 

Confessions:

 

 

"I'm no longer a Jedi," Broan chased a few stray mushrooms around his plate. "But I don't feel..." He trailed off and looked around. While he might feel comfortable voicing such opinions to Rochester, they were in public; both understood the need for propriety. Rochester smiled at him and nodded. "What does that make me, though?"

 

"How does the Force work?" The question caught Broan off guard. He blinked once or twice, before remembering Master Ashari's remarks, all those months before.

 

"Oh, yes. You can't feel it, can you?" Broan licked his lips and quickly eat a single mushroom. Force sensitivity was a delicate subject for most. He was especially nervous approaching the subject with Rochester, who hailed from a long line of Sith.

 

"No," His answer was measured, but Broan could still detect a hint of annoyance. "I'm not talking about myself, however, I am talking about you. Jedi utilise internal serenity, don't they?" He had a look of genuine curiosity, which made Braon wonder exactly what the purpose of this dinner was. He nodded, however he was still rather unsure of the truth of the statement, and allowed Rochester to continue. "Sith, as we all know, fuel it with emotion," They sat in silence for a while. The table nearest to them was being vacated. There had been no Sith sitting there before and they wanted to be sure no Sith would join them. "What do you use?" His voice was almost a whisper. He quickly moved closer to Broan, sliding over the cushions of the booth.

 

For a moment Broan was conflicted. Had Rochester moved to genuinely be closer to him, or was the officer merely trying to get a better view of the restaurant? His gaze was flitting everywhere; to Broan, the table, the doors. He got lost, focusing on those sharp grey eyes.

 

"Hm?" Broan snapped out of reverie as a shadow passed over them. A waiting servant was collecting their emptied plates. "I've not used the Force much in my time here, though I probably should have by now," He had been on Dromund Kaas for several months and though he spoke with a somewhat dismissive tone, he had made a conscious effort to avoid using the Force. "When I... on the ship, I mean... I did many of those things in anger. I regret that now."

 

"Do you regret leaving her?" That was one thing Broan had noticed. Where others might have tried to drag him back into the discussion of Jedi and Sith philosophies, Rochester allowed their conversations to grow, to avoid troublesome spots. He sighed and rested his chin on a hand.

 

"I do, I think. Your mother and I were angry at her, angry for different reasons. I do wonder, at times, what she would say if she saw me now. I think she knew I was... unstable. I was too old, too broken to become a Jedi - a good Jedi." He poured out a measure of wine, having already drained his second glass. Wine was not something which he had experience with and tonight was the first time he was truly drinking it. It certainly seemed to be having the desired effect; he was becoming far more comfortable.

 

"Master Ashari seemed broken as well."

 

"You can remember that?" Broan stopped with the glass to his lips, his breath catching in his throat. He was starting to feel uncomfortably warm.

 

"Only bits and pieces, not all of it; I read a lot of reports on the incident, however," Broan felt a slight pressure on his knee. Looking down, he realised that Rochester had placed his hand there. When had he gotten so close? "My Lord, I would suggest you refrain from imbibing further." The glass was gently removed from his grip and placed rather far away on the table. A waiting servant had appeared, explaining Rochester's sudden formality.

 

"I can do as I please." Broan brought the wine back, keeping it close to his meal. Another bottle appeared to replace the first.

 

"Indeed, my Lord," Rochester waited in silence as the servant disappeared. At once they were alone. "But to do as you please, a Sith must have power. Weak Sith are subject to the will of others and are not long for that life."

 

"And what if my will coincides with another's?"

 

"Then you lead, my Lord."

 

 

[greyjedibp]

How can soon write that story

[Striges]

Confessions, Submssion 2

 

Title: An Awkward Reunion

 

Characters: Kirya, Twi’lek Gunslinger, Rixik, Twi’lek Mercenary. And Corso, of course.

 

Very minor smuggler story spoilers, chapters one and two, as follows:

That Syreena was with Skavik the whole time, and that Rogun the Butcher still has a bounty on the smuggler in Act 2.

No bounty hunter spoilers.

 

Fair warning, this came out pretty long, especially for this thread.

 

 

Wind-driven ice battered the wreck’s durasteel hull plating, the sound audible even this far into the ship. Kirya and Corso slipped through a pair of blast doors knocked off their tracks and jammed mid-close. Ahead lay a large open space. Heavy equipment sat jumbled together in a crazy pile at the lowest point of the room, shrouded in shadow. Stepping inside, Kirya slipped on the sloping, uneven floor grates. Corso caught her elbow before she went down.

 

“Thanks, love,” she said, her voice muffled through layers of cold-weather gear.

 

“Be careful,” he replied. He glanced around the remains of the bay, “You sure this is it?”

 

“Should be,” replied Kirya, glancing at the identifying number on the doors. She dug out a portacomp from her belt, her heavy gloves making her movements clumsy. Fumbling with the device for a minute, it finally switched on with a hum. She checked the readout, “According to the manifest, our prize should be in this hold,” she said, mincing her way across the irregular surface to a computer terminal beside a pair of cargo doors. Corso followed, his heavy boots crunching through the frost

 

Kirya brushed ice from the console and tapped the surface, but the computer remained unresponsive. A harder hit was no more successful, though a large sheet of ice broke free from the side of the terminal and shattered on impact. Kirya winced at the noise.

 

“Damaged or just out of power?” asked Corso.

 

Kirya examined the computer, “It looks okay. Probably just out of power. Can I borrow your generator?” she asked.

 

Corso disconnected the compact generator from his pack and handed it over, “Just don’t take too long,” he said, “or I might need to put on a jacket.”

 

“You and your climate-controlled armor,” she groused, fiddling with the device.

 

“Wait—I think I felt a draft,” he said.

 

Kirya gave him a playful shove, “I hate you so much,” she giggled.

 

“I know,” replied Corso, barely off balance. “I still owe you a honeymoon,” he said. He took up a position between Kirya and the entrance to the cargo bay.

 

Kirya crouched behind the console, fishing leads out of the access panel, “If this salvage plays out we can take some time off.”

 

“Where do you want to go?” he asked.

 

“Someplace warm,” Kirya replied immediately.

 

“How about Tatooine?” asked Corso. A snowball exploded on the back of his helmet and he looked over his shoulder. Kirya already had another prepared. He thumped his chestpiece with one fist, “Cli-mate-con-trolled,” he recited.

 

Kirya threw the snowball at him, “Someone’s going to be sleeping on the couch if he’s not careful,” she said.

 

He dodged it easily, “Do I get a blanket? Because someone always steals all the cov—“ the sound of nearby blaster fire interrupted his sentence. Corso spun, his own weapon at the ready. He switched on his helmet light and passed the beam over the wedged blast doors and the catwalk hanging askew above them. It revealed nothing. “Better get on that, Kirya. I don’t think the pirates are going to leave us alone much longer,” he said.

 

 

 

 

 

The smoking hole in the Nikto’s chest glowed bright in the thermal image displayed inside Rixik’s opaque faceplate. He stepped over the corpse and moved farther into the passage. Gault came up behind. Rixik heard the sound of the bioscanner, then Gault’s colorful curse. “Another nobody?” he asked.

 

“Yeah. He’s wanted a couple of places, but no bounty,” griped Gault, “You’d think with all these pirates around at least some of them would have prices on their heads.”

 

“Figures. These are all just grunts,” said Rixik, “Anybody worth anything’s going to be holed up someplace warm.”

 

“Wish I was,” said Gault, rising.

 

“You know my policy on staying behind,” said Rixik.

 

“Yeah. Forfeit half my share of the take?” asked Gault, “No thanks. I’ll freeze now in exchange for a wad of credits to spend somewhere fun.”

 

“Suit yourself,” replied Rixik. “Log the kill, though. We can turn it in if someone eventually offers a reward for him.”

 

“Already did,” Gault said, snapping the cover closed on the scanner, “He’s in there with the rest of them.” He snapped the bioscanner back into it’s sleeve on his belt and followed Rixik farther into the dreadnaught’s broken caracss.

 

Ahead, a human-sized pressure door sat wedged halfway open, blocking the entrance to a larger area. Voices echoed in the space beyond. Rixik crouched behind the door and peeked over it. Below was a cargo hold. Load-lifters and other heavy droids piled together against the far bulkhead where they’d slid during the crash. Near the loading bay doors, not far from the jumble, was a computer terminal. And by the terminal stood a pair of humanoids.

“Jackpot,” whispered Rixik. He waved Gault up. “Hand me the electrobinocs.” Gault did so and Rixik peered through them. The two figures showed up bright and clear. A female Twi’lek, and a male human. “That’s her,” he said. He passed the electrobinoculars back to Gault.

 

Gault adjusted the image. Then he pulled out the bioscanner and aimed it in their direction, “You sure? All I see is a Twi’lek and a human. Could be anyone looking for salvage. They’re too far away to get a solid ID,” he whispered.

 

“That’s her. Kirya Bilali. Trust me,” said Rixik, “One sweet payday.”

 

“If you say so. So who’s with her?” asked Gault.

 

“The brief listed known associates. It sure isn’t the wookie or the woman. That leaves the mercenary kid from Ord Mantell,” said Rixik. “You stay here. Take out the kid on my signal. Rogun’s paying more for her if she’s alive, so I’d prefer to keep her that way,” Rixik stood up, “But if she makes a break for it, shoot her. We get paid either way.”

 

“Got it,” said Gault.

 

Rixik crept over the damaged door onto the catwalk and maneuvered toward the stair. A dusting of soft powdery snow muffled his footfalls. He caught snatches of their conversation as he approached. The mercenary, despite his alertness, hadn’t spotted him yet.

 

“Blast it!” snarled Kirya, “No good. I can get enough power for the comp but the door motors are shot. No way we’re getting those open.”

 

Corso turned slightly back to her, “Any chance we can cut them?”

 

Kirya disconnected his generator and tossed it back to him. He reattached it to his pack. “Only if you have an industrial torch in there somewhere.”

 

Rixik strode forward, a blaster drawn but held at his side, “I have a flamethrower,” he asked, “Will that help?”

 

Corso spun, his own blaster pointed right at Rixik, “Stop right there, pal,” he said.

 

Kirya rose slowly, “You have got to be kidding me,” she said.

 

Rixik focused on Kirya, “Miss me, babe?” he asked.

 

She went pale, “You bastard son of a Hutt,” she said.

 

“Hey,” said Rixik, deopaquing his faceplate, “Is that any way to greet your husband?” he asked. He edged toward Kirya.

 

“You’ve got the wrong lady,” said Corso, “Kirya’s my wife. How’s about you just go away and nobody needs to get hurt.”

 

Rixik turned his attention to Kirya, “I’m crushed, dear,” he said, an exaggerated hurt expression on his face, “You didn’t tell him about us?”

 

“Shut up, Rixik!” exclaimed Kirya, “I should have guessed you’d fall in with the White Maw. They’re full of scum like you.”

 

Rixik edged still closer to Kirya, “I’m independent. Always was, doll, you know me.”

 

Corso cocked his head toward Kirya, still covering the interloper, “Wait a minute, you know him?”

 

“Jesp Rixik,” said Kirya flatly, “Makes Skavik look like a Jedi.”

 

“Who’s Skavik? Another boyfriend?” asked Rixik. This was too easy. He was almost in carbon-freeze range. Just a few meters more. “Aren’t you going to introduce your junior husband?” He turned his attention to Corso, “She still steal all the covers? I swear, your ship could be falling into a sun and she’d complain she’s cold—“

 

“Shut the hell up Rixik!” yelled Kirya.

 

Corso’s aim wavered, “You…you really married this guy, Kirya?” he asked.

 

“Still on file,” gloated Rixik, “I didn’t get any dissolution papers.” So close.

 

“It was Nar Shaddaa! Half the systems in the Republic don’t even recognize Nar Shaddaa marriages!” she cried.

 

“You sure screwed up the rest of my record, babe, not to mention my accounts,” Rixik growled, “I never got a chance to say thanks.”

 

In a swift movement he brought his gauntlet to bear. A shot rang out from the catwalk. It missed Corso and impacted the deck, sending up a puff of smoke. Kirya dove behind the computer terminal. Cryogas and carbonite sparkled in the air where she’d been only a second before, a cloud of silverized snowflakes. Corso, recovering quickly, sent a hail of blaster fire at Rixik, but the heavily armored Twi’lek had already activated a shield. Corso’s bolts pattered on its absorption interface, leaving Rixik unscathed.

 

“Gault, you idiot!” yelled Rixik, returning fire.

 

“Sorry, Boss!” came a voice from the catwalk. Another well-placed shot scrapped the computer, leaving it a smoking ruin.

 

“Run, Kirya!” yelled Corso, still firing his blasters at Rixik. He’d activated his own shield. Their faceoff was at a stalemate.

 

Kirya made a break for it, heading for the blast doors. Gault’s shots dogged her heels. She drew both blasters and returned fire, forcing the Devaronian back into cover. Rixik left off the mercenary and pursued Kirya. Two steps in he slipped on the icy deckplates and went down on one knee. He snarled and adjusted aim, sending more bolts after his fleeing target. But Corso blocked his way, backing out slowly and covering her escape. Rixik watched Kirya disappear into the passage beyond and swore.

 

Rixik recovered his feet and followed. He paused at the jammed blast doors. There was no sign of his quarry. Behind him, he heard Gault skittering down the stair and across the deck. “Gimme the scanner!” he ordered.

 

Gault handed it over and Rixik switched it on, sweeping it in a broad arc. Nothing. He adjusted it and tried again. Still nothing. Too much durasteel interfering with the signal. He shoved the scanner at Gault. Have to do this the old-fashioned way. Under other circumstances it would be easy. Snow, footprints…but the pirates patrolled through here regularly. It was impossible to separate their tracks from hers. He saw nothing, even in infrared. Nothing audible either. The snow muffled her footfalls. With the storm still raging outside, he heard nothing but white noise on all frequencies. She could be anywhere in this warren.

 

He’d lost her.

 

He spun on his heel and re-entered the cargo bay. It’s a bust,” he said finally.

 

Gault leaned against the bulkhead by the doors, “Wanna steal their salvage? At least this trip won’t be a total waste.”

 

“I hate freight,” griped Rixik, “besides, whatever she was after must be pretty big. The Kessel Won’t Have Me doesn’t have that kind of space.”

 

“You never know,” said Gault, “get a readout and see.”

 

“I would, but somebody smoked the comp,” said Rixik.

 

There was a long pause. Finally Gault spoke again, “Hmm, I bet Mako would be very interested to hear that you’re married,” he said. Rixik cocked his blaster. The sound echoed loudly in the frozen cargo hold. Gault backpedaled, “Then again, that’s not my story to tell,” he said quickly, “Let’s just get back to the base.”

 

Rixik kicked at the snow, “No, you’re right. Might as well see what they were after. If we’re lucky, they’ll come back for it,” he pointed at the droid jumble, “See if there’s anything useful in there for brute-forcing this door.”

 

 

 

 

 

Three decks down and more than a dozen compartments aft, Kirya and Corso paused in their flight. Safe for the moment. Kirya leaned against the bulkhead and slid down to the floor. She rested her arms on her knees and lowered her head.

 

Corso stood in the middle of the hall, still alert. “So…you’re…already married?” he asked.

 

Kirya looked up, “Do we really have to discuss this now?”

 

“Yeah we do kind of have to discuss this now,” replied Corso, “at least a little bit.”

 

Kirya sighed, “Alright. Long story short, when you’re young and stupid, you do stupid things. Like go to Nar Shaddaa with a man and marry him because he’s charming and he says he loves you.”

 

“He doesn’t seem very charming,” said Corso. He relaxed his stance.

 

“He can be when he wants to. Or he could back then anyway. It was a long time ago,” said Kirya. She sighed again. A tear slipped down her cheek and puddled at the bottom of her goggles, “He conned me. All he wanted was access to…look it’s about my family, and I can’t talk about them right now, I just can’t,” she sniffed, “I promise, we get back to the ship you can ask me anything about them, but not here. Not right now. Please?”

 

Corso looked at the floor, “All right,” he said finally, “That’s really why you let Syreena go, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah,” said Kirya, “She was old enough to know better, but yeah,” Kirya sniffed again, “Can’t go around shooting people just because they make stupid mistakes, can you?” she said with a weak laugh. There was no humor in it.

 

“But why didn’t you say something earlier?” asked Corso, “That’s what hurts, Kirya.”

 

“I haven’t thought about him in years. Figured he’d be dead or in prison by now. It didn’t seem to matter,” she said. “And the time never felt right. How do I come out and say ‘oh, by the way, I got married when I was a stupid kid and the dissolution papers aren’t official because no one can find the jerk I married so technically I’m not really single even though I haven’t seen my so-called husband for ages’? I mean, plural marriage is not uncommon for Twi’leks, but I know Humans don’t feel the same way.”

 

“We don’t,” agreed Corso. He bent down and removed her goggles, “Don’t cry, Kirya,” he said with a sigh, brushing the tears from her face, “You’ll freeze the seal to your face.”

 

A bittersweet smile crossed her lips, “Like that crazy Zabrak on Taris,” she said with a broken giggle.

 

A pale echo of Corso’s happy grin appeared, “Then I won’t play pazaak with you anymore,” he said, standing, “Come on, let’s go.” He held out his hand to help her up. Kirya took it and rose. They made their way through the wrecked ship, searching for an exit.

 

[Tatile]

Striges that was very sweet. I can imagine that Kirya might want to talk about it more, but your Corso seems like the kind of guy would go 'No, you explained enough. If you want to shoot the guy though..."

[kabeone]

Even more pointless, unreadable drivel. Hurray!

 

Confessions:

 

 

"I'm no longer a Jedi," Broan chased a few stray mushrooms around his plate. "But I don't feel..." He trailed off and looked around. While he might feel comfortable voicing such opinions to Rochester, they were in public; both understood the need for propriety. Rochester smiled at him and nodded. "What does that make me, though?"

 

"How does the Force work?" The question caught Broan off guard. He blinked once or twice, before remembering Master Ashari's remarks, all those months before.

 

"Oh, yes. You can't feel it, can you?" Broan licked his lips and quickly eat a single mushroom. Force sensitivity was a delicate subject for most. He was especially nervous approaching the subject with Rochester, who hailed from a long line of Sith.

 

"No," His answer was measured, but Broan could still detect a hint of annoyance. "I'm not talking about myself, however, I am talking about you. Jedi utilise internal serenity, don't they?" He had a look of genuine curiosity, which made Braon wonder exactly what the purpose of this dinner was. He nodded, however he was still rather unsure of the truth of the statement, and allowed Rochester to continue. "Sith, as we all know, fuel it with emotion," They sat in silence for a while. The table nearest to them was being vacated. There had been no Sith sitting there before and they wanted to be sure no Sith would join them. "What do you use?" His voice was almost a whisper. He quickly moved closer to Broan, sliding over the cushions of the booth.

 

For a moment Broan was conflicted. Had Rochester moved to genuinely be closer to him, or was the officer merely trying to get a better view of the restaurant? His gaze was flitting everywhere; to Broan, the table, the doors. He got lost, focusing on those sharp grey eyes.

 

"Hm?" Broan snapped out of reverie as a shadow passed over them. A waiting servant was collecting their emptied plates. "I've not used the Force much in my time here, though I probably should have by now," He had been on Dromund Kaas for several months and though he spoke with a somewhat dismissive tone, he had made a conscious effort to avoid using the Force. "When I... on the ship, I mean... I did many of those things in anger. I regret that now."

 

"Do you regret leaving her?" That was one thing Broan had noticed. Where others might have tried to drag him back into the discussion of Jedi and Sith philosophies, Rochester allowed their conversations to grow, to avoid troublesome spots. He sighed and rested his chin on a hand.

 

"I do, I think. Your mother and I were angry at her, angry for different reasons. I do wonder, at times, what she would say if she saw me now. I think she knew I was... unstable. I was too old, too broken to become a Jedi - a good Jedi." He poured out a measure of wine, having already drained his second glass. Wine was not something which he had experience with and tonight was the first time he was truly drinking it. It certainly seemed to be having the desired effect; he was becoming far more comfortable.

 

"Master Ashari seemed broken as well."

 

"You can remember that?" Broan stopped with the glass to his lips, his breath catching in his throat. He was starting to feel uncomfortably warm.

 

"Only bits and pieces, not all of it; I read a lot of reports on the incident, however," Broan felt a slight pressure on his knee. Looking down, he realised that Rochester had placed his hand there. When had he gotten so close? "My Lord, I would suggest you refrain from imbibing further." The glass was gently removed from his grip and placed rather far away on the table. A waiting servant had appeared, explaining Rochester's sudden formality.

 

"I can do as I please." Broan brought the wine back, keeping it close to his meal. Another bottle appeared to replace the first.

 

"Indeed, my Lord," Rochester waited in silence as the servant disappeared. At once they were alone. "But to do as you please, a Sith must have power. Weak Sith are subject to the will of others and are not long for that life."

 

"And what if my will coincides with another's?"

 

"Then you lead, my Lord."

 

 

I really like Rochester and Broan even though I don't know much about them (yet *hintmorepleasehint*). The only part that was confusing was the line where Broan says "Your mother and I" for a second I thought Broan was Rochester's dad, which given the rest of the story was um disturbing/confusing. Otherwise I likey

[Tatile]

No, no XD Rochester's dad is human and they rarely, if ever, interact as they hate each other. I'm planning on writing out the incident they are alluding to; it involved Master Ashari (Miraluka) and youngling (also Miraluka), the capturing of a ship and all it's crew and a mother's wrath.

 

I do want to write more on them - the dynamic of a confused Jedi turned confused Sith interacting with an Imperial Officer who's been brought up steeped in Sith culture and philosophies is an interesting one. Throw a little lust in there, for good measure.

Edited June 22, 2012 by Tatile

[Earthmama]

I really like Rochester and Broan even though I don't know much about them (yet *hintmorepleasehint*). The only part that was confusing was the line where Broan says "Your mother and I" for a second I thought Broan was Rochester's dad, which given the rest of the story was um disturbing/confusing. Otherwise I likey

 

Add me to the list of people who wants to see more of these two!!

[Striges]

Striges that was very sweet. I can imagine that Kirya might want to talk about it more, but your Corso seems like the kind of guy would go 'No, you explained enough. If you want to shoot the guy though..."

 

The follow-on to this is the monster I started for "Culture Shock". Haven't worked on much for a couple weeks though.

[Eanelinea]

I wasn't going to write a Confession short, but Eanelinea got me thinking and something shook lose and this is what tumbled out. Its very rough, I'm sorry. I don't think I like it, but it's how i see things going so it's part of the story now.

 

Characters are Adris Westan, my male sniper

Brei'yu Kodrevas my female operative

Kaliyo (whom i need to start giving bigger parts to)

Vector

 

 

“That's it, that's the plan.” Former Imperial Agent Adris Westan crossed his arms and swiveled to lean against the holo terminal, very specifically and carefully avoiding the raging gaze of his crew. Well, only one of his crew was raging, and he had no remedy for it.

 

“So. This all hinges on me. On...” Brei'yu Kodrevas left the thought unfinished. Westan hadn't explained to Kaliyo, Vector, and Raina exactly what it was Brei'yu was going to do, he'd only left it very clear that it was up to her and her alone.

 

“You're the only one that can. It's why I...” Westan bit off his sentence too late and sighed. He'd just made his night harder. Miserably, he flicked his eyes to her, expecting the shock of cold fury, the sharp breath before she laid him open with words. To his dismay, and ever growing misery, she only gazed back distant and slightly empty. She looked hurt. He'd hurt her feelings. What the hell was happening?

 

He watched her turn her back on him and panicky confusion welled up in his chest. “Brei'yu,” he began, unsure what else was going to fall out of his mouth at that moment. This wasn't like her, very unlike the spitfire woman who shrugged entire worlds off her shoulders.

 

She interrupted him, her voice as heavy as stone. “You obviously have my role all figured out for me. We going to do this? Or is there a part two to this conversation?”

 

Westan felt his hand grope the air in front of his chest even as his mind grappled with itself to find the words to fix this. But when he remained silent, she shook her head and walked to the door. “Change your clothes, Vector. If this is going to work you're going to need to look less royalty and more like you just got out of the shower. Kaliyo, where's that lightsabre you lifted off that dead Sith apprentice? Don't give me that look, I know what you did.”

 

Kaliyo couldn't keep the grin off her face. “I have been dying to tell someone all week. You have no idea. When you broke his neck and he just sort of crumpled that thing shut off and was just lying there, you know? Thought maybe I could start a collection.”

 

“Give it to Vector, it will sell the whole... Jedi thing.”

 

“Aw, you kidding?” Kaliyo turned the stink eye on Vector who serenely ignored her.

 

“He'll give it back,” Brei'yu said, frowning at the pout on Kaliyo's lips. “Put your name on it somewhere, he won't keep it.”

 

Westan listened to Brei's voice fade away as his team walked out. Vector paused at the door, looked back at him with a look he couldn't read. “I know,” Westan said. “I know. I borked something up. Again.”

 

Vector turned his head, looking down the hall after the women. “Do you love her, Agent?”

 

Adris Westan could count on one hand the number of times he'd been shocked into silence. He shouldn't have been surprised when it came to Vector, however. The Joiner still had trouble relating to regular people. He'd lost much of what made him human after the Joining, and the casual knowledge of how to converse was just one facet that tripped the other man up. Spending so much time with Westan's crew had helped to remind him of his humanity, but like a child, sometimes Vector just told it like it was. Or outright asked how it was.

 

When Westan didn't answer right away, Vector nodded and Westan was certain he was seeing resignation on the Joiner's face. It was hard to tell sometimes.

 

Finally, his tongue started working again. “Once, a long time ago I would have said yes without hesitation. When I was still a kid, and when I didn't know any better. If I had any idea that she might love me in return, then yeah. I think I could be in love with her. But that's not how it is. That's not how I work. And Brei? When she does something it's with her entire self. There's no room for anything else. She never was in love with me, however much she loved, and loves me.”

 

Vector put his hand on the door frame and seemed to sag against it. His head was bowed, his free hand fisted at his side.

 

Westan began to worry that Vector was ill. Which would be unfortunate as this plan really needed him for it to work. “Vector? Are you alright?”

 

Vector regained some semblance of his composure. “We are... We are not ill,” he said as though reading Westan's mind. “We didn't realize how much we wished to hear that. To know it.”

 

“I'm afraid I'm not getting what you're saying.”

 

“It is both a comfort and a grief that you do not desire her. We... we know she will never look at us the way we wish her to, but knowing that we do not lose her to you, who we see as our brother...” Vector's thoughts trailed away as Westan's mouth fell open.

 

“Are... are you... What are you saying? Do you... um.” Westan watched Vector straighten. The other man's face was serene again, his hands clasped in front of him, his posture relaxed.

 

“We are in love with Brei'yu.”

 

The statement was so final, so assured. So Westan immediately felt like an idiot when “Are you sure?” tumbled out of his mouth.

 

Vector nodded once.

 

Westan took a moment to process. Vector allowed him the silence to do so. “I'm not going to tell you you're wrong, Vector,” Westan said after a moment. “But I do want to make sure you know what you are getting into.”

 

Vector slanted his head to side. “We are getting into nothing, Agent.”

 

“But you just said-”

 

“A confession between friends. Between brothers that goes no further than this room.”

 

Confusion had Westan shaking his head. “So what? You don't want her to know?”

 

“You said yourself, Brei'yu gives her all in all things. She doesn't notice us, and we understand why. When this is over, we don't believe she will stay. This is better. For all.”

 

“Look, Vector,” Westan sighed in a gush, putting his words in order in his head. “Brei's pretty... reckless. Sure. She's also loud, sarcastic, and more than a little bitter. But more than that, and I say this as her best friend because as much as she hates it, I am. Brei is also unobservant. But only when it comes to her. Herself. That girl could tell you how many stripes were down a Twi'lek's lekku from fifty paces while he was turning a corner in a sandstorm, but you ask her what she ate for breakfast, she's going to have no idea for a good ten minutes. She's noticed you, but you're so damn... serene, so-” Westan waved his hand around the air by head, looking for the word he wanted. “Emotionless around her. Now I know you aren't devoid of emotion. But she hasn't seen what I know.”

 

“We are content,” Vector said.

 

“Great! That's great. Be content. But don't let being content stagnate you. You came with me to show the Kiliks the universe. To help them experience what's beyond the hives on Alderaan.”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“I'm saying quit being lame. You're not afraid to take a blaster shot to the face. So I know you're not afraid of a little emotion.” Westan rubbed his chin, remembered idly that he needed to shave and wondered if he had time for that before Brei'yu drug him off the ship and down planetside. But more to the point, he liked this idea of Vector having interest in Brei'yu. It could have been Temple for all it mattered, but Westan liked this human vulnerability in Vector.

 

The men eyed each other as Westan nodded along with the ideas flying through his head. “Yeah, we can do this.”

 

“I'm sorry? We can do what?” Vector asked, feeling a sudden trepidation.

 

“We can get you the girl.”

 

Yes! YES YES YES!!! Go get your girl, Vector! (My agent's Vector took his sweet *** time, but then again, my agent flirted with him so hard, he'd have to be blind and deaf to not notice. Oh, oh! I HOPE he gets her and that it's hot and heavy! Knowing your girl agent, it could be! =D And I'm honored I inspired you. ^_^ More now please! *bounces*

[Eanelinea]

make it so!

vector deserves all the luffins <3

 

He sure does! Damn. Now I need to get inspired to write fem!agent/Vector fic. Just need the right plot bunny to hump my forehead.