Enemy Of My Enemy

[KianSri]

Doesn't seem like these forums are too active these days, but I've been writing oodles of SWTOR fanfic over the last year or so, and figured I might as well toss one out here for the heck of it (I post mainly on AO3 and tumblr). So here's a short scene with my JK and Scourge following the end of the class story (SPOILERS, obviously).

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46541845

The Sith Emperor is defeated. The Galactic Republic celebrates its victory. And the Hero of Tython finds himself dreading the end of the unthinkable alliance that made it all possible.

Or perhaps, it doesn’t have to be the end.

Spoiler

CORELLIAN LIGHT CORVETTE, designation SEEKER, en route to CARRICK STATION

Caspian has to fight against the uncomfortable knot in his chest as he gives a tentative rap on the doorframe of the Seeker's cargo bay, and then peers inside. It’s as stark as ever - there's rarely much cargo carried in this ship beyond a few necessary crates of supplies, and the bay’s sole occupant has never seemed inclined to fill the space with any personal effects. The upshot is that now, there’s no way for Cas to tell what might be about to happen here. Certainly nothing so obvious as an open packing crate on the floor, waiting to be filled and then taken on its way.

Scourge is already on his feet, turned towards the door, wearing heavy robes of a red so dark it borders on black. He stands expectantly, as though he’s simply been waiting for Cas to appear. It’s always been like that - the Sith has never made a secret of how easily he senses Caspian’s approach, and he’s invariably ready for him whenever the Jedi ventures to visit.

His red eyes watch impassively as Cas slides fully into view. Cas bites the inside of his lip where he hopes the Sith won’t see, and after a moment’s dithering he steps inside.

“Have you got a minute?” he requests, trying to make it sound light, though it hardly seems loud enough to be heard over the apprehensive wump wump wump of his heart.

Scourge considers him for an instant, then gives a curt nod. “What is it, Jedi?” he asks.

Instead of answering right away, Cas moves over to a low crate nearby and gingerly sinks down onto it. It’s been nearly two weeks since he faced the Sith Emperor, but he still finds it difficult to remain on his feet for long periods, his body not yet recovered from its immense ordeal within the Dark Temple.

Perched on the edge of the crate, Cas pulls in a breath deep enough to lift his chest and settle his stomach. “I was just wondering… what your plans are, now,” he says carefully. “Now that -” He fumbles, and wets his lips. “I mean - this, you and me working together - it was all just to defeat the Emperor, right?”

Scourge’s browstalks lift slightly, and a dry look curls his mouth. “You tell me,” he replies - an answer Cas would find infuriating, if he had room to feel it right now.

“Well… I did that. We - did that.” Cas brushes his silver hair from his face. He’s not sure if he’s being too obvious or not, putting so much emphasis on them. On this unthinkable alliance that had, somewhere along the way, transformed into a strangely profound partnership between Jedi and Sith.

“The Emperor’s dead,” he goes on. His grey eyes have been erratically roaming the room as he speaks, but now he focuses on Scourge again - as hard as that is. “You got what you wanted. Any… obligation, you made towards me - that’s over.”

He shifts atop the metal crate, pausing, half expecting Scourge to interrupt; but the Sith remains silent, and after another visceral heartbeat Cas pushes on, “So… what happens now? I mean - I’m still a Jedi, you’re still a Sith.” He forces a quick laugh, one that sounds hollowed with all the things he doesn’t want to think about. “Do we just - go back to being enemies?”

Still, Scourge doesn’t answer for several moments. His scarlet head cants, his keen gaze cutting thoughtful lines across Caspian’s uncertain form.

At length he says evenly, “There was a time, when I believed that the Jedi of my visions - that you - would not only defeat the Emperor, but also take his place. That you would claim his power and his throne, and fill the void of his destruction that all the Empire now feels. And as I once served him - so would I serve you.”

Cas feels a hard lurch in his stomach, and his hands curl unconsciously in his lap. “But you know now… that I won’t do that,” he says. It’s quick, not even a question. “I don’t want his power, and I don’t want any throne.”

“I know.” Scourge dips his head, though his eyes never leave the Jedi. “And I continue to wonder if you truly understand what you’re conceding.” His voice turns sharp, just shy of accusing. “Or the chaos to which you condemn the galaxy by doing so.”

Cas drops his eyes for a moment, wondering how he can possibly feel guilty for not seeking such power, as Scourge folds his arms and goes on, “I also know that trying to convince you otherwise would be a waste of breath. I’ve rarely met anyone so stubborn and determined to remain less than what they could be.”

Though this comment is withering - Cas winces inside, a direct hit upon his insecurities - Scourge only shrugs it away with a roll of his broad shoulders.

“I won’t try to sway you again. But if you will not take what is rightfully yours, I am left with little reason to remain here.”

Cas’ chest tightens, as do his brows. Don’t go, he wants to say. But pleading has never been an effective tactic with Scourge, who views such displays only with contempt.

“The Sith still brand me a traitor,” Scourge continues, musing aloud. “But perhaps there is yet a role for me in the Empire.” He lets out a sardonic huff of breath. “I’m sure your Council will be relieved to see me back on the other side of the galaxy, where I belong. Far from their precious Hero of Tython.”

Another seemingly offhand remark, yet it digs into Cas, scraping across the raw edges of his emotional wounds. He glances up, jutting his jaw against the snap of resentment that flurries through him.

“I don’t care what they think,” he retorts, all the more brusque for how true it is, and he sees Scourge’s eyes narrow in approval.

“Good,” he says softly. “Let them command you, Jedi, if you must - but never let them control you.”

A potent silence falls between them, as Scourge seems to await some reply, and Cas fumbles with what he should say. Get a hold of yourself, he berates himself sternly, uncomfortably aware of the Sith’s continued scrutiny. He breathes in again, then out. Straightens his shoulders, loosens the twist of his hands.

He makes his offer.

“Well. In case you haven’t totally made up your mind, I just thought I’d tell you - you’re welcome to stay. If - if you want to.”

Watching Scourge, he can’t tell if the other man is surprised by this invitation or not. He’s gotten better at reading the Sith over these months they’ve spent together; but it’s never easy to find anything on Scourge’s face, beyond the light layer of judgement that seems to constantly edge his expressions.

One dark-gloved hand snakes upward, as Scourge strokes briefly at the tendrils twitching idly on his chin. “…Do you want me to stay, Jedi?” he asks.

Again, frustratingly, Cas can discern nothing from how Scourge says it. His jaw tenses further as he throws back, “Would I have even asked you if I didn’t?”

The Sith blinks once, conceding this. But then he straightens, flicks his hand towards Cas, and asks pointedly, “...Why?”

His tone is level, but there is a new weight to it, a kind of unspoken challenge, and Cas knows instantly - this is a test. Scourge is seeking his intentions, probing for what a future together would entail, and if he does not like the answer Cas gives him - he will leave.

Cas swallows against the knot that’s moved from his chest to his throat, and stares up at Scourge. Because I feel something for you, he wants to burst out. Something deep, and frightening, and furious, and I know I shouldn’t be feeling like this about you, of all people, but I can’t help it. And if I let you go now, I know you won't come back. I’ll never get the chance to find out if someday, you might be able to feel something for me, too.

But try and say any of this, and he might as well kick Scourge out the airlock with his own boot. He can see it so clearly in his mind - the Sith’s face sharp and contemptuous, his breath thick with scorn, as he shreds Caspian’s confession with razored condemnations of sentimental fool. Have you learned nothing?

So Cas forces it all back, with the same unwieldy effort as pushing a pocket of air below the surface of a churning pool. Scourge does not, cannot, know the truth of what the other man feels; Cas is sure of it. But there are easily a dozen other reasons for him to abandon the Jedi and his crew, and very few incentives to stay, and Cas has only moments to find something of the latter that will sway Scourge’s views enough to keep him here.

He clears his throat, breaking apart the stoppage enough to speak. “Well… it’s like you said,” he points out, trying to keep his tone as calm as Scourge’s own. “The Sith want you dead. The Republic obviously doesn’t trust you, they’d be just as happy to kill you as the Sith, I expect.” He shrugs. “Where else can you go?”

“Anywhere,” replies Scourge, abrupt and immediate. “I am no longer bound by the Emperor’s command, nor by my pledge to you.” He fixes Cas with a heavy stare, one that bores into the Jedi without restraint. “Do you think the galaxy is so cleanly divided, and that I am so clumsy as to be caught between my former allies and your Republic? Do you think I need your protection, Jedi, or that of your friends, in order to survive?”

Cas flinches internally, knowing he’s misstepped. Biting his lip, he hastens to amend, “No. No, of course not.”

Scourge accepts this with a brusque nod. Though he hasn’t moved a centimetre from where he’s stood through the entire conversation, he still gives the impression of settling back, folding his arms again as he goes on:

“If you would have me remain here only under some misguided perception that I need a home, and lack a better offer than your ship -”

Cas expects him to finish the thought without hesitation; he braces himself for Scourge to declare his immediate departure, and dismiss the Jedi from his presence in the same scathing breath.

But instead the Sith trails off, and though his attention remains unrelenting, there is something expectant in the tilt of his browstalks. A prompt. An opening. And Cas seizes his chance.

“No,” he says again. “It’s not that at all.” He lifts his chin a fraction, forcing himself to meet Scourge’s gleaming gaze. It’s easy to do when he’s angry, lashing out at the unflappable Sith; much harder now, in the stillness of the Seeker's hold, when all Cas wants to do is cut his hands over the unyielding angles of Scourge’s face until his palms are bloodied with the feel of him.

“You told me, once, that you had learned from me, as much as you had from Revan. And I said that you’d done the same for me. Because - well, you have.”

Cas shifts his weight as he lowers his gaze for a moment, pondering these uncomfortable truths he can no longer push aside.

“You’ve made me ask questions I never would have asked, otherwise. And true, I haven’t always liked the answers, but like them or not - they have opened my eyes.” He glances up again, steadier now. “And I just think - maybe we’re not done with that yet. I think there’s still more we could learn from each other, if we stay open to it.”

Scourge’s lips give the faintest quirk of curiosity; and not for the first time, Cas wonders if they feel as sharp as they look, or if there is yet some softness within that sculpted mouth. A low hum of consideration rises in the Sith’s throat.

“You continue to surprise me, Caspian,” he remarks. “And that, on its own, is no small feat.”

The Sith steps closer, moving in a way that seems almost incidental, like his approach is merely a side effect of his feet carrying him across the floor.

“I sensed your fury, when you brought down the ceiling of the Dark Temple,” he says lowly. “It was… impressively deliberate. If a trifle overdone.”

Cas angles his head back farther, continuing to hold Scourge’s gaze as he swallows. “What’s that got to do with this?” he asks, feeling his voice thicken. But Scourge can’t know why. He can’t know that as Cas stood over the fallen husk of the Sith Emperor, as he wrapped his rage around the stones bared like ancient, sharpened teeth above him and ripped them down, that the uppermost thought in the Jedi’s vengeful mind had not been of Vitiate’s terrible plans, or his own tormented captivity in the Emperor’s fortress, but a simple, vicious vow -

This is for what you did to him.

“Only that in my observation, you have been doing everything possible to distance yourself from the dark side,” answers Scourge, jolting Cas back to the present. “Not always to great success, and often to the detriment of your own purpose, as I explained to you on Corellia. And yet in facing the Emperor, you not only embraced the dark side - you commanded it.” His voice drops, the sound like wet sand scraping across Caspian’s skin. “Deny it if you will, Jedi. But in that moment, you were a true lord of the Force.”

Cas’ jaw tenses defiantly. But Scourge is right. His actions against the Emperor had not been born of desperation, the random expulsion of his hatred for Vitiate and all he’d wrought. No - Cas had known exactly what he was doing.

And murder, however justified, was still murder.

“I’m not going to make a habit of it,” he retorts, though even now, he feels no remorse for his savage dispatch of the Emperor. “Using the dark side.”

“And yet you ask me to stay, and continue to share what I know of the galaxy, and of the Force.” There’s something almost mocking in Scourge’s tone now, in the narrowness of his eyes and the curve of his mouth. “Do you expect me to plod passively by your side and throw kernels of my experiences at you, in the hopes that a few of them will be considered? Do you see the irony, Jedi, in your request? You claim to rebuff the dark, and with the same breath you would plunge yourself into its shadow.”

Cas grits his teeth. Sometimes he wants to thrash Scourge when he gets like this, when the Sith pulls apart Cas’ every utterance with the same casual air as picking bones from a platter of meat.

Thrash him - and then devour him. Cas forces himself to unclench his jaw, and exhales deliberately.

“I’m not saying I’ll ever be like you,” he replies, as steadily as he can. “I’m never going to be Sith.”

“Mmmmm, no.” Scourge hums in accord, canting his head as he surveys the Jedi before him. “On that, we can agree.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t keep sharing our views with each other, our experiences.” Cas lifts his chin a little, and now there’s a hint of challenge in his own expression and voice. “You’ve been out of touch with the galaxy for a long time, Scourge - and I know I’ve been sheltered by the Jedi for most of my life. Why not change that? What was it you said? Sometimes it takes an outsider to open our eyes to new facets of the Force?”

Scourge’s gaze narrows again - but this time the thinnest pretence of a smile sharpens his mouth.

“So you can listen, even through all the Jedi blustering that fills your ears,” he remarks lightly. “Perhaps there is hope for you yet.”

Cas bites back a retort and simply looks up at Scourge, his pale eyes pushing against the other man’s assessing stare. He finds that he’s nearly holding his breath, as he waits to see if this offhand expression of approval means that Scourge has at last made up his mind.

Heartbeats pass, too many, too loud in the unbearable silence between them; and surely Scourge will hear it soon, the near-desperate plea still lodged in every pulse through Caspian’s tightening chest that says please don’t go, I need you -

“Very well, Jedi. For now, I will accept your offer to remain here, as part of your crew.”

A wave of relief sweeps through Cas, leaving him surprisingly dizzy in its wake. His lungs deflate again, and the tension of his torso dissipates, allowing his shoulders to slump.

“Great,” he says, this simple response belying the sudden brightness of his voice and the small but irrepressible smile that unfurls across his face. “That’s great, Scourge, I - I’m really glad. Thank you.”

“But,” Scourge cuts across him, “only on one condition.”

Cas’ elation jerks to a halt. His brow crunches uncertainly. “And what’s that?” he ventures.

“That you give me your word - if I decide to leave again, you will not hold me here. I will be free to go where and when I choose, with no interference from you and your crew.”

Cas frowns more deeply, puzzled by this mundane request. He hesitates - but if there is more to Scourge’s terms than there seems to be, he can’t find it, and after another moment he nods.

“Of course. I would never try to keep you here against your will, you know that.” He huffs a wry breath. “As long as you’re alright with taking the word of a Jedi, that is.”

“Your word will suffice,” answers Scourge calmly.

By the time Cas realises what Scourge is implying, the Sith has already moved on. “But what of the Jedi Council?” Scourge presses, his gaze glinting sardonically. “How will your Masters respond to my continued appearances at your side? Not with any favour, I think.”

Cas’ reply is a low snort, as he brushes the back of his hand across his lips. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll be furious,” he admits drily. “But come on, you’ve seen how well I get along with them. Especially now. I’ll go where they send me, but this is my ship. I decide who’s welcome here, and who’s not.” He straightens where he sits, sets his jaw, feeling oddly compelled to show his resolve, not just speak it.

“The Jedi Council are my leaders - not my masters. I’m still going to do things my way.”

Scourge dips his chin, though his eyes remain on Caspian. “I am counting on it,” he says softly. The way he speaks makes it sound almost like a threat. Almost.

Unsure of how to respond to this, Cas only clears his throat, sliding from the crate and onto his feet. “Right, well,” he says after an awkward moment or two. “I’ll try not to be too much of a disappointment, in that respect.” Half-joking, he adds, “I’m sure there will be plenty more opportunities for you to watch me butt heads with the Council, I know you always find that entertaining. Maybe it’ll make up for me not actually joining you on the dark side.”

He turns, and is already heading for the door when Scourge offers a parting remark that stops him in his tracks.

“Perhaps. But even Revan was Sith for a time, and you are more like them than you realise.”

Cas stiffens, hesitates. “How so?” he asks carefully, turning his head so that he can regard Scourge from over his shoulder.

“There was always something of the darkness in Revan, even when they returned to the light. True, you lack Revan’s raw power, their intense connection to the Force - but you have their tenacity. Their defiance. Their need to understand, and to forge their own path in finding it.”

Staring back at Scourge, Cas feels an enticing shiver ghost through him. It’s become an uncomfortably familiar sensation over these last few months, coaxed into being by the intensity of the Sith’s presence; the moments when Scourge’s level tone turns almost lyrical, and Cas can hear the memory of passion still imprinted on his words.

He swallows. “Is that a good thing?” he asks, wondering if he should be feeling flattered now, or frightened.

But Scourge merely makes an idle gesture with one hand.

“You must decide that for yourself. You know what happened to them, where their path led.”

Cas bites down apprehensively on his tongue. “Yeah. You turned on them. Nearly killed them,” he recalls, a little harshly. “Are you saying that if you stay, you’ll do the same to me?”

Scourge’s expression is once again impassive, impossible to read. “I have many enemies, Jedi,” he replies matter-of-factly, and then pauses. “But… for the moment, I don’t count you among them. You have nothing to fear. As long as I remain here, I will not raise my hand against you, or your crew.”

“Well.” Cas exhales a long breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, and gives a quick toss of his head to cover it. “You’ve just given me more incentive to make sure you stick around, haven’t you?” And he dares a tight, lopsided smile.

“Yes,” murmurs Scourge thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing at Cas.

The Sith straightens, adjusts his robes, and pivots away from the Jedi, moving towards the rear of the cargo bay in a clear expression of dismissal, but his last words linger suggestively between them:

“It would seem… that I have.”