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sshbpodcast · 1 year

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Doublemint, Doublemint, Doublemint Trek: Doppelgängers in Star Trek (Part 2)

By Ames

Our blogtivity for character doubles in Star Trek obviously needs double the posts, doesn’t it! Continuing on from our batch from last week, A Star Steer Her By is reviewing the doppelgänger of that batch here! The topic had about fifty instances that we listed in last week’s podcast episode, so it was just too much for one post. You can follow along below and see if you can tell the real deal from the cheap carbon copy.

Some SPOILERS for new Trek (including season 3 of Picard!) under the fold.

[Images © Paramount/CBS]

“If Wishes Were Horses”

Update 3/13/24: How could I forget this awful Deep Space Nine episode? For simultaneously two reasons at once, there are two Jadzias at once! Bashir’s horniness for Dax is so strong that it conjures one straight out of his imagination, and she is thirsty AF! Also, it’s an alien being simply taking on the form of a familiar being, like Rumpelstiltskin and Buck Bokai, for some freaking reason. Sigh.

“Aquiel”

Update 1/28/24: There are even more character doubles than I even remembered! Now that I’ve been doing another rewatch, here are a few more additions, starting with Maura, Aquiel’s dog who turns out to be a coalescent organism that has taken on the shape of this very good puppy. We also learn that this organism apparently perfectly mimicked Aquiel’s superior officer, Lt. Rocha, for who knows how long?

“Interface”

Update 1/28/24: One more from TNG that totally fits this increasingly long list is the subspace creature that takes on the shape of Silva La Forge in order to communicate with Geordi (or at least the probe that Geordi is controlling at the time) and try to get him to help them while they’re in some kind of distress. Why they didn’t just ask normally, who knows? There’s also one more update that I was able to cram in show order! Go find it below!

“A Man Alone”

Should've mentioned this one last week, but I literally just remembered it right now. That rat Ibudan makes a clone of himself just so he can murder it and frame Odo in a scheme so convoluted a Romulan must've helped. And THEN Bashir makes another clone, like a freakin' mad scientist.

“Wrongs Darker Than Death or Night”

One more Deep Space Nine episode I should have mentioned last week when we did that batch, but listen. I'm only one person, not two like all of these people! In this case, we have two Kiras who briefly meet and shake hands when our Kira goes back in time to watch Dukat romance her mom, and then things get weird.

“Faces”

Okay, finally on to Voyager, where we’ve already got Torres talking to herself, quite literally. Like in “The Enemy Within” or “Second Chances” from last week, the drama in this episode is all in the interpersonal conflict between, well, one character. It’s also a lot of excellent work from Roxann Dawson in both a lot more and a lot less makeup than usual!

“Deadlock”

“Deadlock” duplicates the whole Voyager and crew, and not for the last time either! In this one, the two crews are occupying the same space while in different versions of the same ship and need to work together to escape some damn Vidiians. Luckily, they’ve got the expertise of not one, but two Janeways, so half of our two crews make it out okay.

“The Thaw”

One of Janeway's most badass moments is technically not Janeway herself, but her holodouble that was swapped in for her to torment Fear the Clown for all of eternity, and I am 100% here for it. It's such a sneaky little character swap that I have to give both of these Janeways a ton of credit.

“The Swarm”

The Doctor is a hologram so it’s pretty common to have multiples of him running around. You’d think he’d just make a crew of nurses that look like him, but alas. Instead, we’ll have to make do with the hologram diagnostic program, which of course has Zimmerman’s face. We’re used to it already from the whole Soong family, so it only makes sense.

“Relativity”

In one of my personal favorite time-travel episodes (if not one of my favorite episodes overall), we demolish the temporal prime directive by not only involving several Janeways, but also letting Seven interact with her alternate self to save the ship from the bullshit of one of the Braxtons (it doesn’t matter which one). And she looks great doing it!

“Demon” and “Course: Oblivion”

I’m clumping these two together for my own sanity, as the silver blood duplicates we meet in “Demon” provide quite the twist for “Course: Oblivion” in a revisited plot no one saw coming. And good on them because it provides quite the little identity crisis for all of the crew members to learn they aren’t the real thing and are fated to possibly the bleakest demises of the franchise.

“Equinox”

More double EMHs and we’re not even done yet. Being a hologram makes it easy for the Doctor to meet copies of himself since that’s exactly what he was built for. Sure, he wasn’t built to be the Voyager’s chief medical officer, and neither was he built to be the Equinox’s chief medical officer, and yet here we are with both of them in “Equinox.”

“Virtuoso”

The Qomar are super into the Doctor’s singing, so they find an excuse to duplicate him and provide us with yet another instance of multiple EMHs running around. Their copies range from the tiny tapedeck version of their opera-singing superstar, to a full-sized singing program that can hit an absurd range of notes but have none of the bedside manner clogging up the works.

“Fury”

Finally, a non-Doctor double to feast your eyes on, this one a future Kes that travels back in time to save herself from… herself. It’s kind of confounding since they rather rewrite the whole Kes character to make this reappearance work, but we were indeed missing Kes so much that even one version of her would have been a sight for sore eyes, and here we have two!

“Author, Author”

Like in “Living Witness,” we start off “Author, Author” with the some excellent alternate members of the crew, all slightly more exaggerated than their normal characters for the sake of the EMH’s story. We also get to see the Doctor get a taste of his own medicine when Paris confronts him with his own fictional doppel, and wrap things up with so many Robert Picardos in one room that it’s a thing of beauty.

“Renaissance Man”

Update 1/28/24: Sadly, we missed this one when we first made this post, so enjoy this great moment from “Renaissance Man” when the Emergency Medical Hologram created a full holodeck of himself to distract Tuvok just long enough to continue his ploy of taking over the ship for the Hierarchy. Like a simp. And with this update, we've maxed out the blogpost again!

“Endgame”

As we’ve seen, we love a good time-travel paradox in which someone gets to meet themself. Sure, you should normally try to avoid confronting yourself out of time, but that’s not the Janeway... way. At the end of a series, you get a pass to just break the timeline as a treat, almost certainly pissing off the Bureau of Temporal Investigations entirely.

“Dead Stop”

Enterprise is usually a more meat-and-potatoes kind of show since a lot of the great duplicaters like the transporter and the holodeck are still in development. But even they get into the act when we find a dead Mayweather lying around and determine that he’s actually a near perfect forgery. He does about as much as Mayweather does in the series, so it’s a miracle they could tell!

“Similitude”

When Enterprise sinks its teeth into a big moral conundrum that rivals the induced rage of something like “Tuvix,” it really goes for it. It’s heartbreaking to watch the spare Tucker come to accept his fate as mere organ donor for his original self, and Connor Trinneer really nails that level of simultaneous hope and vulnerability that he’s great at. But boy do some of these characters piss you off.

Star Trek (2009)

We've got another time travel instance to bring up from the reboot movies, because in the first Abrams movie, Leonard Nimoy is back as prime timeline Spock while we already have Zachary Quinto Spock running around and making out with Uhura all over the place. It is only logical.

“Kayshon, His Eyes Open”

We’ve mentioned back in our transporter accident post how this Lower Decks episode is an ode to “Second Chances,” with direct references to the classic TNG episode to boot. I also complained last week how The Animated Series didn’t capitalize on its cartoon nature to create really impossible-to-film scenes. Well, this animated Trek makes up for that and then some, as you’ll see below!

“An Embarrassment of Dooplers”

This second season episode is so full of duplicating (or should I say, dooplercating) characters that they literally can’t fit any more in the episode without causing a singularity. It’s a decent gag and Richard Kind is absolutely in his element as the voice of all the overly sensitive beings we see so many of. You get a Doopler. You get a Doopler. Everyone gets a Doopler!

“Reflections”

It’s tough being a cybernetically enhanced humanoid whose forgotten past self is literally fighting to get out and take over your body. Rutherford’s backstory continues to be one of the most intriguing elements of Lower Decks, and the episode in which we literally get to see him fighting with himself in his own mind is one of the most visually mesmerizing and intellectually fascinating yet!

“Broken Pieces” et alia

Hey fam, we hear you like Santiago Cabrera. Well season one of Picard has all the Santiago Cabrera you can stomach and still you’ll be wanting more. All the Rios holograms are a fun addition to the show and also provide some great comedic moments and some Moon-worthy compositing that might be the best we’ve ever seen on Trek. And what can I say, they’re easy on the eyes too.

“Et in Arcadia Ego”

Our definition of doppelgänger somehow includes golems that take on the form of the… I’m gonna say engrams because why not… that get inserted into it. In an uncharacteristically unselfish move, a Soong doesn’t create something that looks just like Brent Spiner and jams Picard’s consciousness into a Picard-shaped robot suit. The future is weird.

PIC: Season 3

Sorry for the spoiler (you were warned!), but by season three of Picard, the changelings are back and goopier than ever. Their ability to blend in has gotten way better, again they’re everywhere, and now they’re here for your children. We’ve seen changelings tons before, so I’ll not go further into detail here save to say that it's great to see more Tim Russes!

“Surrender”

What we’ve never seen before is a Data-Lore battle inside the head of… well, Brent Spiner mostly playing himself but it’s such a great scene that no one’s complaining. Like in the Lower Decks episode “Reflections” with Rutherford above, it’s a great use of the mental battle of someone with all kinds of circuits in their head and memory problems out the wazoo.

“Mindwalk”

We already had a ton of double Janeways acting across from herself in Voyager, but the holoJaneway of Prodigy gives us the opportunity to do it again in CGI form! I’ll not be a broken record going on about how much we love Prodigy (well, unless you count saying that as such), but it’s some great work from Mulgrew playing two very unique Janeways, plus Dal a little!

“A Quality of Mercy”

Last one, I promise. For now. I’m sure upcoming seasons will give us even more doppels, but the final one I have to show you was not one we were expecting from season one of Strange New Worlds! Of course the time crystals from Discovery are back since Pike has interacted with them before, and now it’s up to alternate reality Chris to convince himself to embrace his beepy, beepy fate. Beep!

—

After such a long, long list, I’m seeing double. 120 Star Trek doppelgängers! Oh wait. Next week, we’re back on course, so keep up with us on the Voyager on SoundCloud or wherever you podcast, communicate with our alternate selves on Facebook and Twitter, and join me now in just doubling over.

#star trek #star trek podcast #deep space nine #voyager #enterprise #star trek 2009 #lower decks #picard #prodigy #strange new worlds #doppelganger #shapeshifter #transporter accident #holograms

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connor35lim · 2 years

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galpalaven · 3 years

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liberosis

liberosis - the desire to care less about things

The Wayhaven Chronicles | F!Detective x Nate | 6.6k words | hurt/comfort | CW: Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault

a love to last eternities: You Are Here! | 2 | 3

read on AO3

Kira’s had about enough of tonight, and that’s before Bobby shows his stupid face outside of her apartment in the middle of the fucking night.

It takes everything in her to keep her voice low as she sighs roughly, groaning, as she says, “I’m really not in the mood for this right now.”

“I don’t think that’s true, Kira,” he says, smiling that same sickly-sweet smile he’d had since she met him at freshman orientation 10 years ago. “You don’t even know why I’m here. It might just put you in the right mood.”

Her mind flashes back to finals week, junior year, right before he was supposed to be leaving for study abroad. The smell of cheap beer and cologne drifts through the hallway, conjured by the memory. Her stomach turns, and she just shakes her head, rubbing roughly at her face in response.

Holds her hands there. Counts backwards from five. Drops her hands back to her sides with a slap as they fall heavily against her thighs.

“Is this urgent? Or can it wait until I’m back at work and we can have a professional conversation about it?”

“Oh, it’s urgent.” He runs his gaze up and down the length of her, and she can feel it like a spark of uncomfortable static even in the dark hallway. “At least by Wayhaven standards.”

There are many things she wants to say, but she settles on a flat, “Really.”

His gaze finally snaps back to her eyes. “Oh, yeah. It’s been all over town already.”

That sparks her interest enough that she relaxes a little—does he know something more about the outbreak?

“Everyone has heard about your little foray into the carnival with… one of those agents.” His mood shifts, and the first spark of fear crackles to life in her chest. He grapples with his facade for a moment before he settles back into his casual slump, though he still looks sour. “The grapevine is rife with it.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Kira hisses, jamming her key into the lock, yanking the door open and stepping instead.

Bobby’s foot jams into the gap before she can close it behind her.

She glares, yanking the door back open a little in annoyance. “What is it that you want me to say, Marks?”

He laughs, reaching out to catch the door and push it open a little more, slipping a little further into her apartment. “Ohh, I’m Marks now, am I? Have I struck a nerve?”

Kira sets her jaw as she fixes her gaze steadfastly on his eyes. She will not let him see her crack—not after everything else going on right now.

“What. Do. You. Want.”

“I just want to talk, Kira,” he says pleadingly. “Come on. We used to be friends. Good friends. Let’s talk—let’s hang out. Off the record. Just you and me.”

Kira blinks.

“What on Earth makes you think I would want to hang out with you right now?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the door frame like they’re not currently grappling over control of the door. His smile is easy, meant to be charming, but all it does is make her head hurt.

“I think you remember how much fun we had together—and I think you’re in desperate need of a little relaxation in good company.”

She squints at him, opening the door fully just to have it out of his hands. She leans on it as she asks, “As if my date tonight was not enough relaxation in good company?”

Bobby shrugs, taking her opening of the door as an invitation as he breezes into her apartment like he owns the place. He shoves his hands into his pockets, taking in the living room and all its cozy, secondhand decor.

“Well, he’s not here, so it couldn’t have been that good, right?” He turns to smirk at her over his shoulder. “Whenever we hung out, we used to hang out even after the day’s activities ended.”

Kira rolls her eyes, shutting the door behind them both and trying not to think of how ominous the clunk of the door sounds right now. She goes to flick on a few lights, not bothering with the overhead because it gives her a headache even on her best days, and right now she’s exhausted.

Still, she doesn’t move away from the entranceway, anxious to get whatever is about to happen over with. She watches Bobby inspect her apartment for another moment, crossing her arms and trying not to kick herself for still being a pushover after all these years.

“How… quaint,” he says at last.

She leans against the wall by the door, unimpressed. “Thanks.”

“You misunderstand,” he coos, and alarm bells immediately start going off in her head as he saunters closer. “You always misunderstand me. I think it’s nice that you’re home enough to focus on comfort here.”

He stops just a breadth away, their chests nearly touching, and Kira visibly shrinks backwards as she mumbles, “Thanks.”

She knows he can see her cheeks going red with—what is this feeling? Humiliation?—because he smiles in a way that she knows all too well, looking almost like he’s about to reach for her.

Kira takes a full step back—straight into another wall.

Bobby stalks forward, looming over her now with her back against the wall. He props one arm up beside her head, grinning down at her, and all Kira can think about besides the familiar, nauseating, overwhelming stench of cologne is how very small she actually is compared to most men.

And then he does exactly what she’d feared he was going to do.

He grabs her by the coat collar and yanks her forward into a kiss.

Anxiety spikes so sharply within her that she feels it as a physical pain in her head, and it takes all of her strength to fight back against the natural response her body seems to have in these situations—freeze, don’t make it worse, if we just lie still it won’t be so bad—and braces her hands against his chest, shoving as hard as she can.

“Get off—what the fuck—”

“Still playing hard to get, Lin?” Bobby laughs, and her face is so hot now she’s dizzy with it. He doesn’t even move to give her space to breathe. “Come on. Relax. Let’s have a little fun like we used to.”

Kira makes a show of wiping her mouth, moving away from the wall so that he doesn’t have her cornered anymore. She doesn’t want him to see the tears burning at her eyes now, even as her vision blurs, so she stays facing away from him, scrubbing at her face with the sleeves of her cheeks. She feels so utterly helpless, and she doesn’t understand why—she’s a cop, for God's sake, she’s trained for this.

There’s just something about this—about him—

“Kira—”

He’s still laughing.

“Get out.”

Bobby chuckles, reaching for her shoulder. “What?”

“I said, get out! ” she snaps, shoving him away and making for the door. When she reaches it, she swings it open with a bang , glaring at him as she holds it open. “Get. Out.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re still afraid of a little intimacy.”

“Bobby, I swear to fuck, I will call the cops. Get out of my fucking house.”

“Kira—”

“OUT!”

He rolls his eyes but, before she can start losing her shit for real, he throws his hands up in surrender and sees himself out. He starts to say something once he’s on the other side of the threshold, but she doesn’t care to listen, slamming the door as hard as she can in his face.

The pictures she has hung on the wall beside the door rattle with the force of it.

“Real mature,” she hears him grumble on the other side of the door. She waits, listening, until he sighs and she hears his footsteps disappear down the hall.

And then she collapses.

Kira’s back hits the door a little harder than she would have liked as she sucks in a ragged breath, squeezing her eyes shut and feeling the first tears fall, rolling in fat clumps down her cheeks and dropping heavily to the rug below.

“...shit.”

The curse leaves her lips in a hissing rush of air as she brings one hand up to cover her eyes. Her hands tremble as she struggles to lock the deadbolt before she slides down the door, slipping to the floor where she stays, bracing her elbows on bent knees as she buries her face in her hands. Shivers wash over her in waves, from the top of her scalp all the way down to her toes where they’re curled in her boots. Memories flash through her mind, unbidden—the smell of cigarette smoke and cologne, too hot hands under her blouse, humid breath on her neck, the crash of the lamp she’d knocked over in her haste to get away—

“Fuck,” she hisses, pulling at her hair, trying to force the memory away. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Her hands move before she realizes what she’s doing, pulling her phone from her coat pocket and scrolling, looking for someone specific…

The phone starts to ring, and she presses the top of it to her forehead, breath already building up to hyperventilation. It rings several times, and with each ring she comes a little closer to regaining her senses. What is she doing? They’re just going to—

The voicemail picks up, and she panics, stammering as she struggles to see well enough to end the call. She coughs on a sob as she hits the end button, and she curses again at the knowledge that that is going to be what Nate hears if he ever gets to his voicemail.

“Hey, what the fuck—who are you? How did you—AGH! ”

There’s a loud thump in the hallway that makes Kira’s stomach drop. She scrubs anxiously at the tears still flowing freely down her cheeks as she pushes herself back to her feet, fumbling with the deadbolt for a moment before she manages to open the door and peer out into the darkened hallway.

For a moment, all she can see is the shape of someone standing in the hallway. There’s a second where she thinks she’s looking at Bobby, and she almost calls out to him to ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing—when she hears a groan coming from the floor of the hallway.

Through the little bit of light flooding out of her apartment door, she realizes that she can see the prone figure of Bobby lying on the ground. What little she can see of his skin is covered in that same blistering smear of blue and white, the figure who’d attacked him standing over him menacingly. They meet her eyes and neither of them move.

Shit.

The anxiety already pumping through her blood like white hot iron does nothing to make her escape smooth or quick, as she hurries drag Bobby bodily out of the middle of the hallway and into the safety of her apartment. Her mind screams at her to just leave him, especially as the stranger advances, but the detective part of her mind (quiet as she is right now) won’t let her just leave him.

Kira half kicks him the rest of the way into her apartment, hurrying to close the door behind her—but she’s too late.

The stranger catches the door before she can close it, and she stumbles backwards into the long table by the entryway, knocking the plant that usually sits on it off of the table and onto the floor. She continues to retreat as the glass of the big living room window begins to ripple like water, and more figures step through the glass, stepping onto the window seat as they enter.

Shit.

There’s a brief moment where she gets the chance to look a little more closely, and she realizes that they look exactly like the man in the mirror—paper white skin, dark eyes with a single circle of gold set on a black sclera. Unable to do anything else, she backs towards the kitchen, raising her hands in surrender and hating herself for how much she’s shaking.

“Please,” she rasps, and another tear slips down her cheeks. “I don’t know why you’re here, but I don’t want to fight you.”

The woman who had attacked Bobby eyes her companions, and then tilts her head thoughtfully. “You are… reasonable.”

Kira smiles hopefully, though she can feel how weak it is. “We don’t have to hurt each other. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

The woman sneers, and Kira’s stomach drops. “We do not want,” she growls. “We do as told.”

Her stance tenses and Kira chokes on the urge to sob. Can she not catch a break? Just this once? What did she do to deserve this?

“Please, please,” she gasps, stumbling backward more. “I am not a threat to you. We don’t have to do this.”

Kira’s just darted behind her kitchen counter when a loud thud from the windows distracts her—a new figure has arrived. This one isn’t a stranger like the others. She recognizes him immediately.

The supernatural from the House of Mirrors.

Great.

She watches his hawk-like eyes take in her apartment, a strange sort of curiosity gleaming there, before his gaze finally lands on her where she is cowering behind her kitchen counter. He smirks as she grips onto the end of the countertop a little harder, until her knuckles start to turn white.

“You,” she sighs, wishing she could just lie down right here on the counter. “Why am I not surprised?”

He makes a noise that might have been the beginning of a laugh. “I see my messengers have done their job well.”

Kira laughs humorlessly, groaning as she rubs a hand over her face. “If you wanted to threaten me, you picked a great time to do it.”

When she looks back up at him, he looks confused, and a little bit curious as to what she means by that. She’s not about to explain, lest they decide to finish Bobby off before they go—as much as she dislikes him, she doesn’t want him dead, and with the whole Judgment thing that went on in the House of Mirrors…

Bobby stands even less of a chance if they really knew what he’d just done—or what he’d done to her before.

He’s just collateral right now, and he probably has a better chance at living through this if he stays that way.

In the middle of whatever this standoff is, Kira’s phone flares to life in her pocket, and she can feel her blood draining from her face as she meets the strange man’s eyes, horror sinking deep into her belly. His nostrils flare, and he turns back to his followers, mumbling something in a language that she can’t quite pick out but almost recognizes that sends them all heading back to the window.

She lets them go, watching them recede into the glass as her phone rings shrilly in her pocket. Before he can leave, the man in the mirror turns to look back at her, formal as ever.

“Accept the courtesy of our warning. We will not interfere in your affairs. Do not interfere in ours.”

And then he’s gone, and she’s left staring at the pathetic image of herself half hiding behind her kitchen counter in the window.

She almost wants to laugh, once it sinks in that she’s alone once again. Is that what they call not interfering? For all they knew, Bobby was her boyfriend or something. How is this not interfering in her affairs?

It makes her head throb as her eyes drift back over to Bobby where he’s laying halfway over the threshold of her apartment. With a quiet sigh, she wanders over to Bobby and finishes dragging him into the apartment, glancing up and down the hallway just to make sure no one else is out there before she shuts the door behind her.

Bobby’s breath is coming fast and hard, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain of his new skin condition. Some sick, twisted part of her doesn’t even want to call anyone just yet—he deserves this, at least a little—but she knows she can’t just leave him here. The hospital isn’t equipped for it, and having Bobby expire on her apartment floor surely won’t be good for… anything really.

Her phone rings again, more insistent this time somehow, and she raises it to her ear numbly. As she moves, all she can think is that her hands are still shaking.

“...Hello?”

“Kira!” Nate sounds like he’s out of breath. She can hear something rustling in the background. “Finally. Kira, are you alright? What’s wrong? You sounded...”

She doesn’t know what to say to that. Her eyes are stuck on Bobby, still lying on the floor. Another few tears drip down her cheeks.

“Nate—” her voice cracks, “—I need help.”

“Anything.” There’s no hesitation at all—none.

“Can you come over?” Her lip wobbles, threatening her composure. “Please?”

“Absolutely. Are you safe until I get there?”

Her eyes sting. She sniffles, leaning back against the wall. “Y-Yeah.”

“I will be but moments. Don’t move.”

Click.

The line goes dead.

Kira sits in one of her barstools by the kitchen counter and tries to calm her nerves before everyone else shows up.

She’s successfully managed, at least, to stop crying by the time her apartment door opens again and a familiar figure bursts through the door. His eyes land on the body on the ground first, and she watches Nate’s face pale before he realizes that it’s not her—and then he looks up, and his eyes find hers. She hasn’t moved from her spot on the barstool, and offers him half of a weak wave. She’s gone from being overly anxious to being downright numb now, though there’s still the dull ache in her bones that promises an even worse anxiety attack later tonight.

He crosses to her in two strides, closing the door behind him as he moves to cup her cheeks in his hands, thumbs stroking against the soft skin there. Warmth floods through her at the touch, putting a crack in the wall she’d put up in the few minutes it took him to race across town. She closes her eyes, unable to bear the concern in those lovely brown eyes of his as she clutches at his wrists, bowing her head until she bumps her forehead against his sternum.

“...what happened?”

She shrugs, inhaling the scent of him. The tension in her muscles ease with the smell of his cologne.

Safe...

“Supernatural from the carnival showed up,” is all she mumbles after a minute.

Nate tenses against her. His arms move from her hands to her back, wrapping his arms around her. “What did he want?”

“Told me to leave them alone.”

“And… what happened with…?” She can feel him turn to look back at Bobby on the floor.

Kira shrugs again, eyes burning. “Collateral, I guess?”

Nate doesn’t say anything to that, arms tightening around her when a few tears slip out and soak into his t-shirt. She wishes they could stay like that forever, but unfortunately there is a situation afoot, and Bobby is still withering away on her rug. When he groans again, she sighs and pulls away—though, only just—to look at him.

“We should get him to the facility,” she says flatly.

“Right…” Nate clears his throat. “I’ll carry him out.”

Kira can’t really remember what happened throughout the meeting they had about this whole thing. She is present enough to answer questions and pretend to be okay, but the second her mother tries to comfort her, something inside her snaps. Part of her is glad that her mother is finally—finally—here for her, but where was she the first time this happened? Where was she when she was 19 years old, sobbing in the bathroom of a stranger’s house, trying desperately to get a hold of her mother because she just wanted to go home and no one answered her?

Where was she and why wasn’t Kira ever good enough to keep her attention?

The only twinge of… something Kira feels is when her mother sneers at the sight of Bobby, as if she does have some recollection of who he was and what he did, asking what he was doing there.

There’s some more chatter about the ambush, but no one seems to notice how off Kira is—or maybe they write it off as her being tired—but by the time Bobby has been dealt with and her mother disappears again, the sky is already pale with the grey light of dawn, and Kira sighs heavily.

She’s so fucking tired.

She’s just standing there, staring out the window at the morning light, when she feels Nate come up behind her—and she knows it’s him because he slides his hand up her back, lightly rubbing circles in between her shoulder blades. It nearly makes her moan, leaning back into him and closing her eyes.

“Shall I take you home?” he asks. She can feel the rumble of his words in his chest.

“Please,” comes out as a sigh. “I’m so tired. I just want to go home.”

Kira can feel him laugh and, for the first time all night, she smiles, opening her eyes to look up at him.

“Let’s go, then.”

Kira is not surprised that Nate doesn’t drive, she realizes as they ride back to her place in the back of an unmarked Agency vehicle. Of all the things he cannot, for some reason, grasp about technology, it’s not surprising that cars would be on that list. Hell, she doesn’t even really like driving either, so even beyond that she can’t blame him for not learning.

Plus, as she buries her face in his leather jacket, sliding her hand into his with a sigh, she can’t help but be glad that they can have this moment to be together. The smell of whatever gentle cologne he wears and the worn leather of his jacket mingles into a heady aroma that has the deep-seated tension in her body melting away. It’s a short ride from the facility to her apartment—from anywhere in Wayhaven to her apartment, actually—but she’s pretty sure she actually falls asleep for part of it, because it seems like she blinks and suddenly Nate is thanking the driver and climbing out of the car.

Walking up the stairs to her apartment is a challenge that she hadn’t expected, though Nate keeps one gentle, steadying hand on her back as he walks her to her door.

When they reach her door, she goes to unlock it, exhaustion a heavy ache under her skin. All she can think about right now is changing into pajamas and collapsing into bed for the next 12 hours.

And then Nate speaks up again.

“Are you all right?” he asks, watching her unlock the door. “You’re incredibly quiet.”

“Hmm?” Kira can only find the coherence to hum for a moment, before she processes his question. “Oh. I’m fine. Just tired, I think. Very tired.”

He doesn’t seem to believe her, and though she feels like she’s about to start going cross-eyed, she can see his gaze darting around her face in concern. “Are you worried about your reporter friend?”

Who?

...oh.

Right. Bobby.

The memory of the incident comes rushing back at the mention of Bobby, and Kira can’t quite hold back the shuddering breath she takes, reaching up to rub at her jaw. Part of her wants to tell him everything—to cry in his arms until the stabbing pain in her chest has finally subsided back to a dull ache. The rest of her realizes that it’s not his problem and, after what he said to Adam, it will probably never be his problem.

“...Kira?”

She blinks, glancing up at him and silently cursing herself when a tear drips down her cheek. Realization seems to wash over his face, but she shakes her head, rubbing at her tired eyes with a hiss as she says, “No. It’s not—no. I couldn’t care less about Bobby.”

Nate brushes a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Things didn’t end well with you two?”

Kira laughs—a short, hysterical burst of sound as she presses her hand to her eyes. “Ah, god—no. No, they fucking didn’t. He’s—he’s not my friend. He’s—” her voice cracks, something squeezes in her chest, her lip starts to tremble.

“Friends don’t do what he did,” she says after a moment. “Friends don’t do that.”

Half of a sob escapes her mouth before she slaps the hand that she’d had over her eyes over her lips. She looks up at Nate, horrified, to find him looking… angry.

Angry and concerned.

His hand drops from where he’d been touching her hair and returns to his side, though he doesn’t move away. She hates herself for even saying that—hates herself even more as the floodgates seem to open, and she fumbles with the door rather than look at him anymore, stumbling into her apartment with a shuddering gasp.

“Kira, do you want me to leave?”

That stops her in her tracks, though she’s sure whatever look on her face is borderline terrified as she turns to look at him, raking both of her hands through her hair.

It strikes her how he’s still standing in the hallway, rather than having followed her in. She knows that vampires don’t need permission to enter anyone’s house, but it’s such a stark difference compared to the others she’s dealt with tonight. Nate’s frame nearly fills her doorway, but everything about him radiates warmth, and she wants nothing more than for him to come in and never leave.

She shakes her head, and what breath she can catch through the hyperventilation she can feel building she uses to gasp, “Stay. Please. I don’t—I can’t—”

Kira breaks off in a sob, bending in two with the force of it, and Nate apparently needs no more permission than that. She barely hears the sound of the door closing behind him before his arms are around her—strong and warm and familiar—and they’re stumbling to the floor in her entryway as her legs give out entirely. Her fingers clutch desperately at the back of his shirt under his jacket, muffling her aching cries in his chest as 10 years of repressed trauma and another 28 years of loneliness all come pouring out of her. There are a few tense minutes where all she can feel is the pain in her chest and her head, all she can hear is her own voice and the rushing of her own pulse in her ears—but Nate doesn’t let go.

He doesn’t let go.

All he does is position himself more comfortably against the wall after a minute, so that he’s supported as he almost cradles her in his arms, holding her tight like he’s trying to hold all the pieces of her together. She’s gross and his shirt is getting damp with tears and snot, but when her panic attack starts to taper off into more hyperventilation than sobbing, she can hear him speaking to her, soft and warm.

You’re okay. It’s alright. You’re safe. I’m here. I’ve got you.

I’ve got you.

It makes her already quick breaths start to come even faster, making her head spin and black bursts pop across her vision. He starts to speak a little louder, then, though his voice is still level and calm.

“Kira. You’re hyperventilating, love, please—slow down. It’s okay. Breathe with me, come on. In and out. Nice and slow, just like this. Everything is alright. Breathe.”

It takes her a few minutes to manage it, forehead pressed to his sternum as she struggles to turn her breathing back into something close to normal. She can feel his heart beating, steady and true, beneath is ribcage. Every swell of his chest as he takes a full, deep breath she does her best to match, until she can finally take a slow, shaky breath that doesn’t immediately dissolve into more hysterics.

As her breathing evens out and the exhaustion takes the place of the hysteria, she becomes aware of how they’re sitting. He’s propped up against the wall and she’s curled up against him, knees tucked up against his side as she has her head buried in the front of his t-shirt. Opening her eyes a bit reveals that the sun is fully up now, crisp spring sunlight flooding in through the big window in the living room. Another beat, and Nate’s arms loosen a little, and one of his hands starts to make absent figures into her back.

Kira sighs, closing her eyes again as a few more tears leak into his shirt.

“I’m sorry.”

The first words she’s spoken in a good long while and it comes out as barely more than a rasp. Her mind wanders to the fact that this isn’t the first time he’s seen her cry, and she wonders how he can even stand to be here now. She’s supposed to be a rock—sturdy and unyielding, but also something for others to lean on. This? This is…

This is just pathetic.

“Don’t be sorry.” His voice is quiet, a comforting rumble in his chest. “You shouldn’t apologize for having feelings—especially about… that.”

Kira readjusts her position a bit, settling her cheek more comfortably under his chin. Nate tilts his head and presses a kiss to the top of her hair.

“It’s not your problem,” she sighs, staring blankly at the wall across the room. “I keep unloading on you. I shouldn’t do that.”

“I want to be there for you,” he replies, so simply and plainly that something in her stomach flips. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here right now. You’re always taking on everyone else’s problems—you deserve someone to help you with yours.”

She snorts, though it’s more just a puff of air out of her nose. “It’s been a long time since I let myself lean on anyone.”

“I’m honored.” She can hear the grin in his voice. “I want to be that person for you. I want… I want you to trust me.”

She laughs a little, burying her face in his chest to help ease the throbbing headache behind her eyes. “I do trust you. We wouldn’t be sitting here like this if I didn’t.”

He kisses the top of her head again instead of saying anything in response, and she wonders how she even got here. How could a vampire—a literal vampire—who is also a very large man make her feel so safe? So protected? So…

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to keep you safe from him,” he says, interrupting her thoughts. “I should have been there. That’s the second time I’ve—”

“—Stop that.”

He tenses against her and she shifts so that she can smooth her hand over his chest. His heart races under her touch.

“Stop blaming yourself for everything that happens to me. It’s not your fault.”

Nate doesn’t say anything, but she can feel the urge to argue clawing at his throat. She shakes her head, sighing.

Stubborn.

“It wasn’t rape,” she says flatly a beat later. He coughs a little, shocked at her bluntness, but she just tightens her grip on him, fixing her gaze on a spot on the wall. “He just kissed me. It just reminded me—when we were in college, he and I almost dated. One time we got drunk and he almost…”

She trails off, somehow managing not to relive that moment again. “I got away from him but my clothes were already half off and I was messed up because—because I’d told him that I didn’t want to have sex with him repeatedly and he still tried it. He still got me drunk enough that I couldn’t drive and tried to talk me into it. And when I kept telling him that I didn’t want to, he thought he could change my mind for me.”

Her words sit heavily between them for long minute. She’s tired now, and so any ability to be nervous for his reaction has faded away with the anxiety.

“Thank you for telling me,” Nate settles on at last. “I’m so sorry.”

“Bobby has a problem taking no for an answer,” she says bluntly. “That’s why we’re not friends anymore.”

Nate nods. “That’s a good reason.”

They sit in companionable silence for a bit after that, and despite how uncomfortable the floor is, Kira’s exhaustion is starting to get the best of her—especially after that little episode she just had. Sleep begins to tug at her, here on the hardwood floor, and she’s ready to slip into dreamland with no thought to the consequence sleeping there would have on her aging body.

She stirs only when Nate moves, shifting until he can scoop her up bridal style and rising to his feet like she weighs the same as the average house cat.

Kira laughs, a little delirious and a lot delighted, as he carries her off towards her bedroom, hiding her smile in the soft skin on his neck. His scruff scratches at her nose, and it makes her giggle again, this time making him laugh, too. Rather than dump her on her bed, he bends when he reaches it, depositing her with the utmost gentleness on the still-made mattress. She lets her hands drag against his neck as he pulls away, wishing she could just pull him down for a kiss even though she’s still scared he’ll say no.

And then he’s standing up, sighing and looking over at the window like he’s nervous.

Nate clears his throat and says, “I should get going, then. Let you get some sleep.”

Her heart sinks.

“...would you stay?” she asks, focusing on sloppily kicking her shoes off to avoid looking him in the eye. “If I asked you to, would you stay?”

“I—of course. Of course, I would. Are you asking?”

She snorts a little, pushing herself up and going to find some pajamas. She’s so tired that she doesn’t think much of it as she starts to strip her clothes off to change, though she smirks when she catches a glimpse of him in the mirror whirling on the spot until he’s facing the wall, spluttering like mad.

“Do you think Adam would mind? I know we’re probably supposed to start researching today, but… I need to rest and I just…” she trails off as she pulls her pajamas on—just a t-shirt and some pants. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

He risks a glance at her when he hears her climbing into the bed, sighing heavily as she sinks into her mattress. She watches him watch her, sees the gears turning even through the sleep pulling at her eyelids. She can also still see the giant wet blotch on the front of his shirt from where he’s standing in the sunlight streaming in from her window.

“...could you at least get the curtains, then? I’ll set an alarm but I’m going to get my full 7 hours whether Adam likes it or not.”

Nate snorts, but does as she asks, pulling the curtains closed—and she groans as darkness falls over her room, soothing the throbbing headache that had taken up residence in her sinuses.

Too much crying, she thinks, letting out a breath that hitches in the middle, almost like a reminder.

“Should I—Should I take off my coat?” he asks, and she frowns, blinking blearily at him.

“Are you staying?”

“I… would like to, yes.”

Kira chuckles. “Then, yes. Get comfortable. Take off those layers and your shirt that I ruined—you can hang it up to dry if you want—and then you can come lay with me for a while. Until I fall asleep, at least. Then I don’t care what you do.”

He chuckles at that and she watches, half awake and half gone, as he sheds a few layers, draping them over her desk chair. Once he’s down to just his white undershirt and jeans, he unfastens his belt and slips off his shoes. She doesn’t have the wits to admire seeing him so stripped down, but she smiles regardless as he moves to lay on the other side of the bed.

...on top of the blankets.

Kira laughs at him, tossing her head back and slapping a hand to her forehead.

“Nate, oh my god, you poor sweet thing,” she chortles, snorting a little. “This isn’t a Jane Austen novel. Get under the blankets.”

He laughs a little at that, but doesn’t argue, and after a moment of adjusting, he’s in bed beside her, settling in under the blankets and sighing softly. She turns to face him, smiling at the sight of him in her bed. He’s such pretty sight—all warm brown skin and even warmer brown eyes.

Handsome.

There are many things she would like to do with him alone in her room like this, but unfortunately the only thing she will be doing for the foreseeable future will be sleeping. She turns back on her other side for comfort, wiggling until her back is fit up against his chest and he follows suit, curling around her until they’re both comfortable. His arm around her waist, one of his legs between hers, his face buried in her shoulder—she sighs as he kisses gently at the exposed skin there, nuzzling contentedly.

“Goodnight, Kira.”

“Night, Nate.”

When she wakes, it’s to an empty bed.

She lies still for a moment, partially adjusting to the rested feeling in her body, and partially reasoning with herself why he didn’t stay. She knows that Adam must have called him in—and she had told him she didn’t care what he did once she was asleep—but it still hurts, just a little bit, that she didn’t get to wake up in his arms.

As she pushes herself up into a sitting position, she notices something sitting on her desk.

The little stuffed rabbit she’d won Nate at the carnival is sat next to her desktop monitor, holding a little folded up piece of paper.

She smiles to herself as she pads over to it, footsteps muffled by the plush carpet beneath her feet. Kira picks up the rabbit and hugs him to her chest as she unfolds the note, burying her face in the fur and inhaling the lingering scent of Nate’s cologne.

Kira,

I’m so sorry to leave before you wake—Adam was insistent that I get back to the facility. I won’t tell him what happened, exactly, but I will make sure he lets you get as much sleep as you need. Call when you’re ready and you can come join us for the supernatural research you wanted to do.

Yours,

Nate

Kira smiles at the note, pressing a kiss to the rabbit’s little head. She’s glad that he wanted to stay, and she really appreciates that he got Adam to let her sleep. As she goes to get ready for the day, she makes sure to bring the rabbit with her.

He should go back to where he belongs, after all.

#detective x n #detective x nate #nathaniel sewell #n x detective #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #nate sewell #twc fanfiction #kira x nate #the wayhaven chronicles fanfiction #kira yi #my ocs #my writing

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voidstilesplease · 3 years

Text

you can't wake up, this is not a dream

(au part 1/3)

characters: Stiles Stilinski, Kira Yukimura, Theo Raeken (he appears on the next part)

word count: 2k+

warning/s: see tags (who even reads tags? but this is a mess, to summarize)

or read on AO3

---

It is on a night of a snowstorm when Stiles's life turns upside down.

They have just been voted out of Beacon Kingdom after days of utter chaos following Stiles's coming-of-age, revealing his power in a ceremony performed in front of the entire Kingdom. It is supposed to be an evening of festivity, for, after three hundred years, Queen Noshiko finally has a successor - another powerful fox to keep all the Kingdom in its glory. But out of thirteen possible spirits to manifest in him, Stiles has to be the poisoned one. Great, yes, that's a given, but terrible all the same, the most terrible.

An uproar instead of fireworks break the solemnity of the ritual. Stiles and his younger sister are immediately escorted to their chambers, the best of their soldiers stationed inside and outside to protect them, in likely chance that the spiraling panic gives way to violence.

Five days of being exiled into their chambers while the Queen tries to quell the havoc, the siblings receive news of a decision unanimously voted by the council. The Queen has lost the throne, and she, along with her children, is banished from the Kingdom. They are to live with the Druids in the village on the outskirt of the Kingdom. It can be worse; the Druids are not the friendliest, but they are far from ruthless.

But the lightness of the sentence is not an excuse. Stiles's family has not sinned, yet they suffer punishment for something that is beyond their control. If he must go, Stiles will do so. His mother, who has waited centuries to have children as she devoted herself wholly to her duty and vow to the Kingdom and lost her King before his time, doesn't deserve this. His little sister, twelve-year-old sweet, mischievous Kira, doesn't warrant this injustice. It is him that they want out of the Kingdom, then it must only be him that leaves.

He tells his mother so when she comes to his room, the handmaids preparing his belongings, stripping his room of its eighteen years of memories of him.

But she only smiles, holding the side of his face in her soft palm. Underneath her skin, he can smell the power flowing in her veins, rich like blood. Now that he wields his own, he senses hers - he senses all. He knows exactly how old she is, sees the wisdom in her eyes, in her small smile. She is calm despite the storm. The council has dethroned her from the seat that nobody else has touched before. And yet, she does not look defeated at all.

"They have and will live but for a moment, dear," his mother tells him. "We are forever."

His mother leans to kiss his forehead, and Stiles is still furious, but that is the end of their discussion. She sends him to collect his sister, who is curled in on herself on her bed, in anguish.

"Why do they wish to get rid of us?" Kira sniffles when she senses her brother's presence. The mattress dips under Stiles's weight when he moves to sit on the edge, looking down on his sister. Kira hugs herself inside her traveling cloak, one similar to Stiles's. The rich color, the expensive fabric, the gemstone embellishments - no one will mistake them for anything other than royalty.

They may be in gold, but they're still about to be outcasts.

Kira wipes her eyes, sitting up to face her brother. She has never looked so small before. Kira is only twelve, Stiles eighteen, but Kira has always been as brilliant as her brother. She has never stood in the shadow of anyone, not even their mother. It is foreseeable even now in her devastated state that Kira, as was Stiles before his power manifested, is destined for a great future. She emanates strength deep inside, clouded only by confusion and hurt of the sudden turn of events.

Guilt spears him in the heart, overwhelmed once more with bitter thoughts. Kira doesn't have to bear the consequences. She can be the heir instead of Stiles. Kira will make a better Queen than Stiles will ever be as a King, he knows. Under her reign, the Kingdom will flourish for centuries, the Tree of Plenty protected and nourished for the next generations to come.

Kira peers up to Stiles through long and moist lashes. Stiles smiles, albeit taut, as he brushes a stray strand of hair behind one ear. Kira speaks again, voice low, like revealing a secret. "Is it because you're a nogitsune, brother? What they call the cursed fox?"

Stiles recoils his hand back as if electrified by her question. It is only appropriate, he thinks. Stiles has always thought she will be a thunder kitsune, striking them all down where they stand when she comes of age. It is all the more reason that she has to stay. The people only want the odd one out. So cast him out, the bane of their existence, he thinks as his stomach churns in resentment. Anger prickles on the surface of his skin, warm and then burning, and Stiles turns away to hide his face from Kira. He knows his eyes are glowing, but not anymore with fiery orange. They're bright and black as befitting a demon.

She crawls the small distance between them, pressing herself behind Stiles, lacing her arms around him. She lays her head on his clothed back, rubbing her cheeks back and forth to soothe her brother.

It is working. Stiles can feel his heart evening out, anger fading back underneath.

After a moment, Stiles holds on to the arms around his midriff. He leans back on Kira as her voice cuts through the silence that has befallen around them. "It's not your fault, brother," she tells him, tightening her grip even as her tears soak the fabric of his cloak. "People fear the power that they don't understand."

They stay wrapped in their warm embrace for a while until a knock comes, announcing the presence of a guard. It is time.

•••

It is a civil affair, but one laden with tension. Stiles and Kira are escorted out of the castle first and into an awaiting carriage. It is the same one that his mother rides when she visits around the Kingdom.

Kira has stopped crying, and she takes every step with dignity, chin up and eyes forward, her cloak dragging behind her as she goes. Stiles does the same, trying to ignore the harsh whispers of the few people present for their send-away procession, their mad gazes piercing him to ribbons if they could. Some have spat as he descends the snowy stairs with a crunch, cursing audibly. He is not welcome anymore. Just a week ago, the people honored him as their prince and heir to the throne, their future King. Now, they think him no less than a vermin.

Stiles feels wretched for what fear drives people to do.

When they are inside the warmth and safety of the carriage, Kira exhales a shaky breath, one she seems to be holding for a while. She sags into the seat, blending in with the shadows. Stiles reaches for her hand, lacing their gloved fingers together. Kira doesn't move from her position, but she squeezes their hands to let him know that she is still holding on.

Their mother comes last, escorted by so many unnecessary guards in her sides in front and behind her. Talia is with her, one from the Hale clan and their mother's second. She is a promising young woman, no more than twenty-five years, and a strong werewolf. She will temporarily sit at the throne until the council decides on the Queen's replacement. Whoever gets chosen is now responsible for expanding their lineage and producing heirs. They can't delay for centuries like Stiles's mother had done. They do not live as long as Kitsunes can.

"They have and will live but for a moment, dear," his mother tells him. "We are forever."

He peers a little from behind the carriage glass and finds his mother, dressed in much lighter, casual garments, talking to Talia. Stiles hears their muffled voices from where he sits, like listening through water, so he strains his ears, summoning the water away. Suddenly, with a small popping sound, the familiar voices become vivid in his senses.

"-safe, Noshiko," Talia is saying. It takes a long second before she adds, "I regret that this has to happen."

"I do, too," her mother replies.

"I wish you would reconsider," Talia pleads. "The council will still accept you if you only agree to their terms."

"I will not," his mother responds, not missing a beat.

Talia grunts, impatience bleeding in her tone, "You, of all, should know it makes sense. Three hundred years ago, you and the first council convened to defeat the nogitsune hurling unspeakable terror in this land, playing with power that sustains life to many. You built this Kingdom from rubbles with our ancestors and vowed to protect the Tree of Plenty from wicked hands so that we may all prosper," Talia pauses to suck in a breath. "Your son is a nogitsune, Noshiko."

"I am aware, Talia." Her mother continues to sound even. "And I am fulfilling my vow to the Tree of Plenty. Although my son has no ill intentions toward it, I am choosing to go with him, away from where you think he is a threat."

"That will not be enough for them!" she hisses in a whisper.

"The council swore to me that it is when I conceded the throne of Beacon," her mother sighs. "They should honor their word."

Before Talia can reply, the lieutenant guard breaks their conversation, declaring the need to hasten as the storm gets worse, the path darkening.

Stiles's mother speaks one last time, "Do I have your word, Talia?"

Stiles hears the barest of sniffles, and then a final bid of confidence, "You have it."

•••

It is quiet inside the carriage as they make their way toward the Village of Druids, where they will spend their eternity as exiles. Outside, the blizzard worsens.

Suddenly, their mother's voice breaks the somber atmosphere. "Stiles," she calls, loud in the small space.

Stiles whips his head up to answer the call. His skin prickles at the look in his mother's eyes; they're trembling. It is the first time that Stiles has seen her terrified. "Mother?"

Kira straightens from her seat, too, noticing the alarm.

"In a short distance, this carriage will stop." Their mother says, enunciating every word with clear, hard voice. "When it does, I want you to be ready to grab Kira and run to the forest as fast and as far as possible. Find Marin in the Druids Village. Talia will make sure that no one goes to search for you."

Stiles frowns in confusion, heartbeat steadily rising, "But the Village is, at least, a few more hours away."

His mother shakes her head, eyes softening in sorrow. "They do not intend to deliver us to the Druids at all."

Stiles understands it, then. This all pretense; a show to bring them away from the castle where they can executed. The council has, after all, decided to kill them. Once again, his skin burns from underneath, desperate to set free and rage. He locks his jaw, eyes flashing black. "Then we fight, Mother."

"I will fight," his mother nods, reaching to take his hands in hers. "But you will have to take Kira and run."

Stiles attempts to shake her hands off, but she holds on tight. Stiles snarls, "I will not run. They have betrayed us. Kira will fight, too." He turns to his sister beside him, seeking her support.

Kira is terrified, but from that, she draws her courage. Her eyes glow their orange, intense, ready to fire. She doesn't look like a child any longer when she nods.

"You don't understand," their mother says, transferring one of her hands to touch Kira's knee, too, demanding their attention again, to listen. "I am weakened. The council - Gerard - has taken my eight tails amidst the disorder on Stiles's ceremony, taking advantage of the opportunity to disarm me. He already planned to usurp me even before Stiles presented as a nogitsune. They have sent the most loyal of their men in this journey to make certain none of us comes back, and we cannot fight them all."

"So you want us to run and hide like cowards?" Stiles cries, incredulous. "While you hold them back?"

"I am your mother and Queen," their mother growls, voice rising and tone final, as the carriage skitters. Her eyes glow a scorching blue, a star in blazes, and both her children cower. "And you will do as I command."

•••

As his mother predicted, the carriage stops after another few miles. When the doors open, she is already wrapped in blue flames, consuming all the power her one tail can offer, as she pounces at the guards, sending fire after fire, setting almost half of them in flames in an instant.

The mania from the unexpected assault provides the leeway for Stiles to slip out. Blending into the darkness, with a crying Kira in tow, he escapes. Their mother combats the remaining others who have not burnt, while Stiles runs as fast as he can deep into the forest.

They are already at a safe distance but still partially visible. Stiles holds on to Kira as tight as possible, ignoring the twigs that smack him in the face as he races away, determined to accomplish a final command. Even in their range, however, he still hears when his mother falls at last, grunting in pain.

He desperately tries to ignore it, but he can't. His feet stop in their tracks, turning back just in time to see a sword descending onto his mother, slashing with a sickening crunch. Kira screams just as their mother drops with a thud on the snow.

Forever is until someone severs your head, apparently.

Kira's cry alerts the guards of their location, and Stiles has no time to mourn. But something snaps inside him, breaking and flooding out. He knows his eyes have lost their color again, his gut twisting, and inside his head he sees his hands closing around a faceless neck as his claws dig holes through skin.

A moment later, Stiles hears men choking in their own blood, gasping for air that isn't there.

He continues running then, letting Kira grieve for both of them this time, as Stiles must see through to the end as he promised.

~•~

title from: Gasoline by Halsey

#teen wolf #stira brotp #stiles stilinski #kira yukimura #noshiko yukimura #nogitsune stiles #void stiles #fics tag #stiles and kira are siblings #noshiko is stiles's mother #character death #the Tree of Plenty is just a magical tree (like a nemeton hey!)#i totally just made this up so it's a bit hurried #so this will have steo but in the next parts and their romantic involvement is not really explicitly stated #stiles is older than kira here in the start #but he will eventually slow in the aging and Kira will catch up with him #and then they both slow in the aging together #anyway idk what else to tag but that's about it I guess #oh noshiko's tails are the tw canon tails that are represented by objects except for the first tail that cannot be detached #idk if you're interested and have questions it's 50/50 that i have answers but well... 😆#ANYWAY #I'm out-

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swtorpadawan · 3 years

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Awakenings - Chapter 8 : Small Favors

For one thing, she’d been rescued after spending the last three years imprisoned in carbonite by some Hutt crime lord and a group of thus-far unknown conspirators. She’d been blissfully reunited with Corellan Halcyon after three – technically six – years apart. She’d then found that he’d built an entire world – an Alliance, even – where they didn’t have to hide their relationship anymore. Theron Shan and Lana Beniko – Corellan’s senior advisors – had given them a whole two days to get “reacquainted”, sequestered on their old ship. (They’d both desperately needed it.) Afterwards, she’d made an impressive debut with the Eternal Alliance through her rather public sparring session with Corellan, and aside from her run-in with Xalek – and that freak of a Rattataki mercenary who Doc used to date and who’d tried to get under her skin – her introductions had gone well. She’d been ecstatic to reunite with Teeseven and Rusk; even seeing Seetoo Enntoo again had made her more emotional than she’d ever have expected. She’d reached out to Bela Kiwiiks, relieved that her old Master was still alive and thriving on a remote enclave for Jedi younglings. Kiwiiks had even tacitly approved of Kira’s ‘life choices’ with respect to Corellan and the Alliance. Perhaps most surprisingly, Kira had even made a new best friend. Vette had been fantastic these last few days; showing her around, introducing her to people, helping her redecorate her (and Corellan’s) quarters and generally being supportive. She’d been great.

For once, for maybe the first time ever, almost everything in her life was going great.

He, of course, had been amazing.

Corellan had held her gently when she’d been freed from that damned carbonite slab. She’d never admit to being afraid, but she’d honestly been terrified by the thought that that the Emperor was still within him, somewhere. He’d responded by being incredibly patient with her; letting her feel him out through the Force. Then when her mind and heart and soul had recognized that it was really him and only him, they had kissed and embraced and made love and reaffirmed their connection to each other and in that instant, he was anything but patient with her, and in ways that still brought a soft smile to her lips.

Once they were done, he had told her everything that had happened to him in her absence, and she’d done the same. Their meditations on the Defender – in between further sessions of love-making – had brought understanding. The scars on each other’s souls may never completely fade, but they had started to heal over. She could hardly imagine some of the choices Corellan had made along the way. The choice to bring so many former enemies into the fold of his Alliance. The choice to ally with the Sith Empire. The choice to no longer call himself Jedi. The choice to recruit Arcann. It was still too much to take in just yet.

But she understood.

Corellan did feel different to her in some ways. That was to be expected. No one could go through what he had without changing. But he hadn’t changed in the ways that mattered.

Not to her.

Life wasn’t all peaches and cream, of course. It had its bantha dung patties, as well.

She still didn’t know who Kabbura had been working with when he’d imprisoned her, and with the slimy Hutt dead, tracking them down would be a real challenge. Kira didn’t feel consumed by any kind of revenge, but she felt the need to be the one to close that book herself.

That was one.

She didn’t know if she should still call herself a Jedi. The Jedi in the Alliance had accepted her, and that was something. But the goal of making a place for herself within the Order that had once driven her so badly now seemed like something she should consider setting aside if it no longer suited her, considering her relationship with Corellan.

That was two.

She had still lost three years of her life. She may not have aged in that time, but the galaxy had still gone on without her.

That was three.

Kira squeezed her fingers into a fist, then buried her thoughts as she made her way through the saloon. Her old Jedi training was still useful for that sort of thing at least. As she walked, a few people she had already met perked up and greeted her with a friendly word and a nod, and these she returned. She did notice that other people were apparently still fascinated by the novelty of the Alliance Commander – the ‘invincible Outlander’ – having a ‘significant other’, quietly watching her with appraising looks from afar, sometimes exchanging a hushed whisper with a nearby companion.

She was getting used to that. It had annoyed her at first, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. And it was slowly getting better as people became accustomed to her presence. Her new outfit – this one a black and dark brown full body suit of light armor with plenty of pockets for little ‘surprises’ she could use in combat – suited her as well. She wouldn’t be caught by surprise again like she had by Kabbura on Nar Shaddaa.

Not ever again.

Kira glanced around the cantina, finally catching the hand wave from her quarry for today. He was standing near the bar, looking casual as usual with his snappy red jacket and stylish haircut.

Not that his posture fooled her.

“Hey, there.” She smiled as she approached him.

“Hey, stranger.” Theron Shan returned her smile. “How’s it going?”

“I’m doing pretty good.” Kira answered amicably.

Upon saying the words aloud, she realized that, much to her surprise, she actually was doing pretty good overall. She wouldn’t pretend that she hadn’t experienced hardships the last few years, or that there weren’t things she needed to work on now. But she could recognize those things without being consumed by them.

Ironic that I’m finally reflecting on things like a Jedi now. Kira thought to herself.

“You wanted to meet?” she continued.

Theron nodded, then gestured to catch the eye of the bartender, who was doing a good job pretending not to eavesdrop on them. Vette had introduced him to her earlier; he was a bear of a man with a thick white beard whom everyone seemed to call ‘Captain Rex’. Kira knew he’d been a veteran Republic soldier before joining the Alliance, and after the fighting he’d retired from field duty and started running the cantina. Finally prodded, he gave the duo his full attention.

Kira had taken to him quickly; he seemed an amicable guy who took people as they were and was a good listener. In other words, he was the perfect bartender. She was already on a first name basis with him. Still, even he seemed curious about her meeting with one of the senior advisors.

“Hey, you two.” He gave them a toothy grin. “What can I get you?”

Theron gestured to Kira.

“Go ahead and order. My treat.”

Kira raised an eyebrow at the offer. So it was going to be one of those kinds of talks. She though. But she played along, flashing a dazzling smile to Rex.

“Tatooine Sunset, if you please.”

“No problem, Kira.” Rex exclaimed cheerfully, then turned to Theron. “Agent Shan?”

Theron grimaced just a bit at the formal – and outdated – title. There’s a story there. Kira realized, but kept it to herself.

“That and a bottle of Corellian whiskey.” He added, laying a credit stick down on the bar. “With two glasses. Thanks, Rex.”

“Coming right up.” Rex nodded. He snatched up the credit stick then turned away and began preparing their drinks while Theron turned back to Kira.

“Tatooine Sunset? Really?” he chuckled.

She suppressed a cringe at the memory.

“Really, discovering that drink was the only positive takeaway I had from my time on that rock.”

The Shock Drum – a ground-quake causing superweapon – had almost destroyed the whole planet. Kira and Corellan had been forced to fight a sand demon that stank up their clothes once they’d finally killed it. Master Kiwiiks had been seriously injured and nearly killed. Kira and Corellan had been chased all over the desert by an insane Czerka corporate executive. Finally, they’d had to go head-to-head with an ancient Rakatan intelligence to stop it from breaking free to reign havoc on the galaxy.

Oh, and the sand had gotten everywhere.

“Yeah… I think I read that report.” Theron answered somberly. He let an awkward moment of silence fall between them before Rex returned with their drinks.

“Here we are.” He presented the tray with Kira’s fruity drink, the bottle of whiskey and the two glasses. “Need anything else?”

“Just a quiet corner, Captain. Thanks.”

“Lot of that going around.” The larger man just winked. “The booth in the back corner is open. Go ahead. I’ll keep people clear.”

Theron nodded his thanks and took up the tray in his arms, glancing to Kira. “Shall we?”

Kira rose an eyebrow but followed. The two took their seats at the booth in the corner, sitting opposite of each other. From here, she realized they could look out at the rest of the cantina with relative privacy. Theron took one of the glasses and poured himself a drink while Kira took up her drink.

Theron rose his glass to hers, giving her a slight smile.

“To new beginnings?”

“I’ll drink to that.” Kira smirked, gently clinking her glass against his, then taking a satisfying sip of her drink through her straw.

Ah. Rex knows how to mix these. Kira reflected happily. After savoring the taste, she turned back to Theron expectantly as he set his own drink down.

“So. You wanted to chat?”

“Oh, you know. Just wanted to see how you were adjusting to everything.” Theron gave her a charming, boyish grin, one that had probably beguiled dozens of beings the galaxy over, regardless of their gender or species. “You’ve had a busy week.”

Kira liked Theron. She liked him quite a bit. And she knew Corellan trusted him completely. But growing up on Korriban and then on Nar Shaddaa had taught her when she was being played. Also, he’d bought the whole bottle of whiskey with the two glasses for them both. The Jedi Knight folded her arms, her right eyebrow rising in suspicion.

“Uh-huh. Want to come clean with me, spy guy?”

Theron feigned a hurt expression on his face, then raised his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out what appeared to be a portable holo-device and setting it down on the table between them. The former Republic Strategic Information Service (or SIS) agent gave a sideways glance out at the occupants of the cantina – a look that Kira almost missed – and only then, apparently satisfied, simultaneously pressed two buttons on the communicator. It let out a low beep but didn’t seem to do anything else.

“Alright, you caught me. It’s a couple of things, I guess.” He chewed it over before beginning.

“The first is about him. I mean, we’ve been doing this for about a year and even now Lana and I… well, we get worried. I don’t think we always read him correctly. We can’t really tell when he’s pushing himself too hard. Or when something is genuinely bothering him. Or a lot of other things that you’d expect we’d have a feel for by now.”

Kira listened passively as Theron laid out his concerns, then looked down at the holo-device with a scrutinizing look.

“I take it that thing is jamming us?”

Theron nodded in confirmation.

“All electronic surveillance of us is blocked. Everyone trying to listen in from more than three meters out will hear nothing but white noise. And anyone who tries to read our lips will get a minor holo-distortion.”

Kira gave him a look of acknowledgement then sat back and studied Theron, chewing things over. She reminded herself again that Corellan trusted Theron – and Lana Beniko, for that matter – completely. She couldn’t relive all that they had experienced together, but she could acutely feel that connection. She couldn’t know everything, but she could understand what they meant to him.

Most people asking her about Corellan would have gotten promptly blown off. Possibly with a snappy barb, possibly with a drink to the face if they caught her on a bad day.

But she decided she should take Theron seriously. That didn’t mean she had to make it too easy on him.

“I get it. You and Lana have been working with him for all this time, but you still don’t ‘get’ him, do you? He’s an enigma you can’t crack and now you’re hoping I’ll clue you in?”

Theron sighed. “I mean… he’s just so damned heroic, you know?” he leaned towards her conspiratorially. “He always does the ‘noble’ thing, even when it seems stupid. And then he just fights his way out of it if it goes badly. The Sith and the former Imps revere him because of his strength. The former ‘Pubs respect him because he doesn’t get them killed pursuing his own petty goals. Hell, he didn’t want any of us to go with him to help rescue you.” His leaned back. “He’s this paragon to everyone else, and we know that’s not the real story.”

Theron scratched behind his head as he sipped his whiskey.

“It’s been a year, Kira. I knew him before, off and on, back when he was just the Hero of Tython. You were there. But now I’ve been working by his side almost constantly for a year and he still throws me off my game. Lana, too.”

He bit his lip, trying to find the words.

“We just want to know how to help him, because outside of the missions, I don’t think we’re doing a great job at that. And I know this is sensitive stuff. I know that. I’d never ask you to betray him. I was just hoping you could clue us in a bit. And Lana figured you’d be more likely to talk to me than to her.”

Kira nodded slowly. She didn’t dislike Lana Beniko, exactly. But she was Sith. She was a ruthless pragmatist who had once allowed Theron to be captured and tortured by the Revanites. She’d been the head of Sith Intelligence, no doubt ordering things that Kira didn’t want to think about. She had wanted to dissect Master Surro’s mind after that disaster with the Emperor on Ziost.

Then during Kira’s absence, she had found and freed Corellan on Zakuul, had helped him form the Alliance here on Odessen and had been by his side when he had toppled the Eternal Empire.

Best not to think about all that right now. Kira decided.

“How does he seem to be doing to you?” she was genuinely interested in Theron’s assessment. “Right now, I mean?”

“Honestly?” Theron chewed that over. “These last few days since you got here, he actually seems to be doing better than he’s been in ages. Dunno if you knew, but since the war ended, a few of us had been worried about him. He wasn’t angry or even distraught, but he seemed listless. It was like watching the most driven person I’ve ever met just go through the motions. But now? He’s completely re-energized. Driven. He smiles naturally; he even laughs.”

He paused in consideration.

“Really, I’ve never seen him this content before. This… happy.”

Kira gave him a soft grin, sipping her drink in quiet contentment.

“Neither have I.”

Theron blinked and sat back in his seat.

“What, really?”

Kira’s expression now widened into her trademark smirk.

“You know, back when it was just the six of us on the Defender, I remember it felt like there was always something in the way of him just letting go of everything.” Kira explained. “He did occasionally relax when I prodded, and he was always attentive and supportive to each of us with whatever each of us had going on. He never seemed to get too down on himself, but I could tell that some part of him was always thinking about the next challenge. If it wasn’t Vitiate, it was the rest of the Sith. If it wasn’t the Sith, it was the Hutts. If it wasn’t the Hutts, it was the Revanites. And if it wasn’t the Revanites, then it was worrying about your mom finding out about us.”

Kira immediately cringed and shot Theron an apologetic look.

“Uhm. No offense.”

Theron just let out a low groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. Kira had remembered a second too late that the subject of Satele Shan, former Grand Master of the Jedi Order, remained a sore issue for the former SIS agent, her son.

“Ugh. None taken.”

She nodded and pressed on. “Towards the end, before the invasion, I mean, it was starting to get to him. But it’s different now. He’s still driven but he’s… balanced, I guess. More important, like I said, he’s actually happy.”

“That’s a relief.” Theron let out a breath. “I’m thankful you’re willing to tell me that.”

“Well, I know how much Corellan thinks of you.” Kira smirked. “Also, I think you kind of get my personality, so I wouldn’t have to worry too much about saying the wrong thing.”

Theron chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess we’re both kind of used to being the snarkiest people in the room, aren’t we?”

“No surprise there.” Kira beamed. “Corellan’s never been great at sarcasm himself, but as long as I’ve known him, he’s been drawn to those kinds of people. Me. You. Doc. Even Scourge could get a witty line in every now and again.”

As she spoke, a stray memory from years before rose to the surface.

“Come to think of it, Orgus Din was his last Master before he was knighted.” She mused somberly, reflecting on the late Jedi Master, slain more than a decade ago. “If there’s ever been a Jedi on the Council more sarcastic than Master Orgus, I’d definitely want to meet them.”

“Wish I’d known him.” Theron seemed all too aware of what Kira was referring to. “Hey. Know who else is like that? Senya. She seems to have grown pretty close to the Commander.”

Kira pursed her lips. “Arcann’s mother.” She said quietly. “Valkorion’s … wife.” She let a small dose of venom slip into her voice.

“She’s stood by us.” Theron turned his head as he picked up her tone. “Notwithstanding the time she went AWOL to try to save Arcann, no one has fought harder for the Alliance than Senya Tirall. You should give her a chance.”

Kira remembered feeling the affection, respect and even reverence Corellan held for the former Knight of Zakuul. So she just nodded. One step at a time. She let out a breath.

“I will. When I’m ready.”

Theron just nodded in understanding, then pressed on, eager to change the subject.

“But yeah. I felt like a complete idiot when Teeseven showed all of us the holo of the two of you together.” He shook his head. “I missed the signs.”

“Heard about that.” Her eyebrows bumped up in amusement. “I love that droid. But wow. That must have been a fun meeting.”

“You have no idea. I mean… I’d seen the two of you together in person a bunch of times, and even together in action. Especially during that fight with Kael on Yavin.” Theron’s eyes widened and he face-palmed with another groan. “And then that Nar Shaddaa operation with Jonas on Nar Shaddaa! Dammit. I should have seen it. Some spy I turned out to be.”

“Yup. I still have the dress from that Nar Shaddaa trip, by the way.” Kira snickered, sipped her drink, then reached out and patted his shoulder. “Wouldn’t mind busting it out again one of these days.”

“Don’t sweat it, Shan.” She quipped. “We never really told anyone. Even Teeseven only knew because he saw us that one time on Dromund Kaas. Maybe a scarce few people figured it out along the way, but whoever they were seemed to have kept it quiet. We didn’t want to compromise anyone else.”

Theron sat back with an impressed look.

“You even kept it from your crew? For, what, four years?”

“Yeah.” Kira felt a twinge of embarrassment. “I mean, looking back, I would guess that Scourge probably figured it out. I mean, he was a Force-sensitive living in our cargo bay on our ship. Even with his emotions muted, he must have felt… something. But he never said anything. Guess I should have appreciated him more than I did.” She cast her eyes down at the table, surprised at her own emotions.

I miss Scourge. How messed up is that?

“Rusk hasn’t said anything, but I figure he suspected at the very least. Doc was only fooled because he was kind of an idiot and he didn’t see either of us clearly. He thought I was uptight because I turned him down hard, and he figured Corellan was repressed because he wouldn’t be his wingman to some club opening on Coruscant.” She shrugged. “We were discreet. We had a whole system to keep people in the dark. But… well, we were young and in love.” She gave Theron a cheeky look. “We probably weren’t being quite as careful as we thought we were.”

“Must have been tough.” Theron chuckled.

“I do actually miss those days sometimes.” She felt wistful at the remembrance. Force. I am getting sentimental in my old age. “For all our conflicting personalities, for all the fighting and the frantic pace, we eventually became a well-oiled machine. We all knew each other’s rolls and what to do.”

Theron sat up, intrigued.

“I take it a lot of that was from the tactics he setup?”

Kira remembered that Corellan had taken what he’d learn of strategy from his experiences with their old crew – with their diverse capabilities and backgrounds – and had implemented then on an entire para-military organization in the Eternal Alliance. If it had been anyone else, she’d have thought that would be impossible.

“Yeah. It was one of the toughest things to figure out when we first teamed up. He doesn’t really have a distinct fighting style. I mean, yeah, he fights using jar’kai techniques with his twin lightsabers, but he throws in moves from all the major forms.”

She leaned back, her brow furrowing.

“He doesn’t have just one thing going for him, see? He looks at his foes, his allies, the terrain, and the situation, and he just adapts to all of that brilliantly. What are his opponents’ strengths and their weakness? What are his actual goals? I used to hear other Jedi Masters on Tython talk about that sort of thing all the time, but he does it on a level none of them could touch. All instinctively.” She bit her lip. “And if they have a Force bond with you, you find yourself adapting right along with him. It doesn’t feel like they’re controlling you or anything; I’d never go for that. it’s more like they’re leading you while in a dance. And sometimes you’re leading them, too.”

“It took me weeks to figure all of this out, but once I did, it made fighting beside him amazing. It was better than…” A smirk came to her lips, impishly. “Well. I won’t say that because he’s actually really good at that, too.”

Theron rolled his eyes, dramatically. “Okay. Okay. Too much information there, Carsen.”

She let out a chuckle at him.

“Anyway, it’s not just about how he fights. He adapts to everything that way. Every situation he finds himself in. Regardless of whether it’s good for him to adapt. Diplomacy. Military strategy. Ship maintenance. Whatever. He adapts. So when you guys put him in charge of this outfit, all while he still had Valkorion bouncing around in his head, I think he made a lot of decisions on who he needed to become. To win against Zakuul, and against Valkorion. That’s why he’s projected this image of the ‘invincible hero’ to everyone. He thought that’s what they all needed.”

Kira looked up wistfully at Theron.

“Because losing wasn’t an option.”

Theron’s expression fell as his mouth opened to speak, but Kira cut him off, quickly reaching out and pressing a finger to his lips.

“I know. It was all for the greater good.” She sighed sadly, withdrawing her finger from him, and looking down at the table.

“It always is.”

Theron sat dumbstruck, looking at her sympathetically.

“Look, I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He stammered. “I mean, I thought about the strain we were putting on him and I know Koth did, too. But he just bounced back every time he got knocked down, and then he was just standing there, stoic as a duracrete wall. And we needed him. Force knows, we needed him. He once went missing on Dromund Kaas for less than a day, and Saresh was trying to seize control of the Alliance out from under us. We should have known it wasn’t that simple.”

Kira just shrugged helplessly.

“He’s spent his entire life becoming what other people needed him to become. I just want him to be him.” She bit her lip. Dammit. I don’t normally let this get to me. “And he does want this, Theron. The Alliance, I mean. It means so much to him I can’t even tell you. But even I can’t really tell if he wants it for himself, or for everyone else.”

She let that settle in.

“Something to think about, huh? Force, I wish you’d been here with us all this time. This all could have gone differently. We should have found you.” he shook his head. “No, I should have found you. I found your ship right where you left it. With your history, it should have been obvious you’d headed to Nar Shaddaa.” He reached for his glass, looking disgusted with himself.

She looked up at him.

“Don’t sweat it, Theron. I told him the same thing – that I wish I’d been here for this. He told me he was glad I wasn’t.”

Theron nearly coughed out his whiskey.

“What?” he stammered. “Why?”

“The Emperor, Theron.” Kira cringed at the memory. “If he’d ever known about us, he’d have used me against him.”

The former spy cursed. “Dammit.”

Kira’s lips quirked but her eyes remained downcast.

“A thousand-year old demigod living in his mind couldn’t figure out that we’d been together, Theron. Even though he knew perfectly well who I was. Those are the kinds of walls Corellan Halcyon puts up in his mind. So like I said, don’t sweat it too much for not picking up on it. And don’t beat yourself up too much for not finding me.”

It was hard for her to get the words out. But Theron deserved to hear them.

“I’m sorry anyway.” He insisted. “You deserved more, and so did he.”

Kira shook her head.

“He’s not used to relying on people outside of our crew for any length of time. Or at least he wasn’t before. Like I said, most people just want to press on with their lives. And more than one has let him down.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t want to be one of them.” He said determinably.

She eyed him for a moment, biting her lip. This conversation was bringing back more old memories, some best left forgotten. Theron inevitably caught her look; maybe he was learning to read her.

“What is it?”

She took in a long breath. At this point, she was becoming comfortable sharing things with Theron that she’d never shared with anyone.

He deserved the truth. For better and for worse.

“Ziost bothered him.” Kira offered quietly. “I mean, it bothered him a lot.”

Theron visibly cringed at the mention of the doomed Imperial world, where it had all gone so terribly wrong.

“Well, it shook us all up.” He managed. “I mean, even Lana was…”

Kira scowled at Theron in annoyance. His obtuseness grated.

“I don’t mean the planet getting wiped out, you idiot.” She snipped, keeping her voice low. “That was Vitiate. I don’t even mean the damned invasion. That was Saresh. I mean the part where you called in a super-secret Jedi strike team to deal with the damned Emperor when you had the Hero of Tython on speed-dial.”

The look of shock on his face would have been satisfying if she’d been trying to get to hassle him.

“Oh.” Theron fell back in his seat, sullenly.

Kira felt the pings of guilt at his reaction.

“Sorry.” She shivered and placed her hand on his. “Those were bad memories for me, too. I didn’t mean to hassle you about it. I just get defensive of him.”

“He never said anything.” Theron offered, still shaken.

“He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t want to acknowledge that it got to him. He doesn’t want to acknowledge that anything gets to him. And to be fair, not much does. But like I said - he’s been let down by a few allies over the years – Saresh, just to name one – and I think he really didn’t want to add you to that list of people.” She squeezed his hand. “He really does think highly of you, Theron. A lot. Like, we’ve teamed up with a lot of people, and he calls all of them his friend. And for most of them? We take care of their problem, then say our goodbyes, and that’s it. They go on with their lives, and we go on to the next disaster. Maybe they send us a nice thank you note. Beyond that, we probably never hear from them again.”

“Unless, of course, they needed our help again.”

Kira paused, pulling her hand back and sipping her drink before continuing.

“So believe me, Theron. He didn’t look at you like that. He still doesn’t. He thinks the galaxy of you. He’s already told me plenty of stories. You know what he saw when he met you? He saw someone willing to break the rules if it meant doing the right thing. He’s never forgotten that. But you have to understand that some part of him worried that if most people saw beneath the robes – beneath the armor and the ‘hero’ mask – they’d all just take what they needed from him and then walk away.” She paused. “I think he’s figuring out he was wrong about that. Certainly with you, anyway.”

“Thanks.” Theron had finally collected himself by now, giving her a thankful look. Kira just chuckled.

“What I’m saying is, he truly values your friendship. A lot. Even if hasn’t been any good at showing it. So if you ever get an idea in your head that you’ll – I dunno – pretend to betray the Alliance as part of some convoluted plan so you can go undercover and infiltrate some conspiracy… well, please don’t do that. Because then I really would have to beat you up.”

Theron scoffed.

“Oh, come on! I’d never do something that ridiculous!” he blustered indignantly.

“Well, I’d certainly hope not!” she laughed at his reaction. “You’re a good friend to him, Theron.” She bit her lip in consideration, then hastily added. “You and Lana. You just didn’t understand how his mind worked. Hardly anyone does. He still surprises me, and I’ve got a Force bond with him.”

“Yeah.” Theron nodded in understanding. “You know, he spent ten minutes apologizing to us after your debriefing ended. For not trusting us with his relationship with you or that he’d been hurting inside. Then he spent the rest of the day authorizing more Alliance operations than he had in the previous six weeks combined. He’s been on a tear like that ever since. It is stretching our resources a little, but damn if it isn’t good to have him like this. The troops like it, too.”

Kira thought she knew exactly why Corellan Halcyon had suddenly started flexing his operational muscles and what it meant. As her cheeks started burning in a blush, she took another gulp of her drink, eternally grateful to the Force that Theron was apparently too caught in his speech to notice.

“But I’d never want to disappoint him again. Or you, for that matter. That’s why I hope you know you can trust me.” He leaned in, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Both with what you tell me here, and not to tell anyone about your past.”

Kira blinked once hard; her blush forgotten as her blood froze. The Jedi Knight set her glass down as she regarded the Alliance advisor, coolly. To the best of her knowledge, no one outside of the Jedi Council and her old crew knew about her history as a Child of the Emperor, or as a Sith. No one besides the remaining Children, anyway, and they’d been wiped out years ago.

Her eyes narrowed on those of the former Republic agent.

“You pull that little nugget out of my file, spy-guy?” she kept her voice level.

Theron shook his head vigorously.

“It wasn’t in your SIS file.” He said definitively. “I only put it together because of two completely unrelated assignments I worked on. Trant had me close the file on Godera’s errant weapons projects back when I was regulated to desk duty after my ‘trip’ to Hutta. That’s how I found out about Valis on that abandoned mining station. Years later, when we were prepping for the Korriban op, I noticed how Corellan deferred to you a few times when it came to getting around the Sith Academy. Eventually, I put all the pieces together. Never reported it to anyone, though. Not even Lana. I swear.”

He gave her a playful smile. “Your file was thick enough without the extra baggage.”

“Thanks. That’s a relief.” She let out a breath but then caught herself. “Wait, just how big is my SIS file?”

“Oh, it’s not that big. It only got priority at the time because of that resistance group you were running with after Zakuul invaded. Trent and his bosses were paranoid you’d all break the treaty and trigger a new war… which I know must sound rich coming from me considering that’s exactly what I helped do, later.”

Kira suppressed a despondent look at the mention of the resistance group she’d been running with after the defeat on Tython. It was one more wound she had to work through in her own time. Theron, meanwhile, pressed on, apparently oblivious.

“I’m kinda embarrassed that I was able to figure things out about your past but not your relationship. I guess it’s because he looked like a model Jedi otherwise. It was only later I started to see him differently. But genuinely, your file mostly covers jobs you, Corellan and your crew did for us – for the service, I mean, sorry, force of habit there – dating back to Reid Gandon on Coruscant. Nothing from before that, really. Just that you grew up on Nar Shaddaa before Master Kiwiiks recruited you into the Order.”

Kira scrunched up her face in contemplation, trying to remember.

“Reid Gandon. That was that thing with the Justicars, right?”

“That’s the one. Reid’s a good man. We go way back. You know the Justicars’ whole organization collapsed a few weeks after the two of you paid them a visit? I mean, they had other problems. Their supply of weapons from the Empire was cutoff, for one. Also, Illaynah – Major Antilles, I mean – led a Havoc Squad op down there around that same time. That’s two. Regardless, they never recovered.”

“Huh.” Kira shrugged, relieved to be talking about something that hadn’t left a wound. “Well. They were jerks.”

“Yeah, they were. But you and Corellan got that sort of thing a lot, huh? People just coming up to you and asking for help?” Theron mumbled in disbelief. “Has he ever met anyone who wasn’t trying to get something out of him?”

Kira’s memory again stirred at that, like a nexu cat discovering a mouse running past its nose.

“Well, Theron.” she gave him a sharp look, her eyebrows furrowing as her lips tweaked upward. “There was this one time, we were docked at Carrick Station, I actually just told him to go out and make a friend outside of our crew. Outside of the Jedi Order and the Republic military. Just someone who… he could just talk to and who he might share some common interests with. Just, you know, a friend.” She shrugged. “Whatever that means, anyway.”

Theron chuckled at the absurdity of Corellan Halcyon heading into Carrick Station in pursuit of a ‘normal’ friendship.

“Really? How’d that work out?”

Kira eyed him knowingly as she sipped her drink.

“You tell me.”

Several seconds passed before Theron’s eyes widened in realization.

“Oh, blast it. That’s when I met him at the cantina, wasn’t it? And practically the first thing I did was ask him to take on an off-the-books mission that the SIS wanted nothing to do with. And then a year later I was calling you guys in again for the Korriban op.” He turned away guiltily. “Kriff. I’ve used him just like everyone else did.”

Kira reached out and squeezed his hand again.

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself. He saves almost everyone he meets, never mind saving the whole galaxy from Vitiate’s ritual.”

Theron turned back to his drink, grumbling as he shook his head.

“Who does he think appointed him the galaxy’s defender, anyway?”

“Who knows?” Kira’s eyes looked towards the ceiling, having considered the same question more than a few times in her life. She withdrew her hand. “The Force. Your mother when she knighted him and named him the ‘Hero of Tython’. Scourge when he told him he was destined to kill the Emperor. Lana when she freed him from carbonite and told him he was the galaxy’s last hope to stop the Eternal Empire.”

Me. She thought to herself with a hint of bitterness. When I told him that I had been a Child of the Emperor and that the Sith would never stop hunting me. Corellan just stood there on our ship, having been a Jedi Knight for all of a month, and told me that he would protect me with his life. Those comforting words had filled Kira with a warmth that grew into a fire. And eventually, an eternal flame.

Was I using him all that time, too?

Kira hastily buried away that unwanted thought, mentally recognizing it as a lingering insecurity and refocusing on Theron.

I am not the lost child anymore.

“The point is, he’s spent his almost his entire adult life with people pleading with him for help, telling him that he was the only one who could save them. Look. He’s saved my life about… five times now, and that’s not counting stuff that happened in the ‘natural’ flow of combat. Believe me, that was a blow to my ego. I don’t like feeling like a damsel in distress. We’re supposed to be partners, dammit.”

She frowned, then looked back up at Theron.

“But if I can get over all that, then so can you.”

Theron looked away sullenly, digesting the bantha-sized heap she’d dumped on him. He finally offered a weak chuckle.

“Want to hear a funny story?”

“Sure.” Kira shrugged. She noted with some trepidation that he still wasn’t look at her.

“These last few weeks – ever since the war ended, really – he’d been… distracted. Like I told you before. He’s felt listless. I’ve caught him a few times looking up into the sky like there was something in the galaxy calling out to him.” He turned away from Kira, eyeing the wall. “I kept remembering the old stories about Revan that Master Zho taught me growing up. After Revan destroyed the Star Forge and saved the galaxy, I mean. He could have settled down with Bastila, they could have raised some kids together and he could have happily lived out the rest of his life. Instead, he couldn’t resist the call of whatever was calling out to him.”

He stared blankly at the table.

“Turned out, of course, that it was the Emperor that the Force was trying to warn Revan about. This was centuries before the Republic even knew the Sith Empire still existed. And following that call cost Revan everything he had, including his sanity.”

Theron’s eyes finally refocused on Kira with a hurt expression, like he was reliving something unpleasant.

“I was worried that the Commander was going to leave us. Like Revan left Bastila. That he’d grab his astromech droid and jump in his ship one day, fly off, and we’d never see him again.”

Theron reached for his drink only to find the glass empty. Before he could react, Kira took up the bottle and refilled it for him. Theron just nodded his thanks.

“I guess we all got lucky, huh?” he hoisted the glass in her direction in a melancholic toast, still with a gloomy look. “Revan was looking to chase down the next threat to the entire galaxy. Corellan was looking for you.”

Kira stared back at him expressively, letting the awkward silence sit.

“Sorry. It doesn’t sound as funny when I say it out loud.”

“Maybe not.” Kira assented. “Alright. While we’re telling jokes that aren’t funny, I have one for you.”

Theron shrugged. “Hit me.”

“I had this thought this one time. That if you had wound up growing up to be the Jedi hero and Corellan had wound up the emotionally repressed spy, you’d both probably both have lived happier lives.”

For the third time that day, Theron let out a pained groan.

“Maybe.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ouch.”

“You know I’m just teasing you, right?” she smiled up at him. “I wouldn’t talk about this to anyone else?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get that. You’re alright, Kira.” He gave her a smile, shrugging off his fugue. “On that note if I could ask for one more favor. Regarding the Alliance…”

Kira made a face. She’d seen this one coming.

“Uh-oh. This is that second thing you wanted to talk about, right? Is this about that thing with Xalek? Or the one with Kaliyo?”

Theron looked apologetic.

“Well, I know that both were way out of line. But the whole thing did worry us just a little.”

Kira knew by now that by ‘us’ he meant himself and Lana Beniko.

“I’d never take it further than that.” She exhaled. “Look. I’ve been to more than my share of Republic army bases, Theron. I get the whole concept of a ‘General’s spouse’, and all the problems that entails. There’s no way I’m gonna go ‘lord’ anything over anyone, and there’s not a chance I’m not gonna pull my weight around here.”

Theron nodded and sat back in relief.

“Thanks. I didn’t want to give you a hard time about it. The dynamic and identity of this whole operation – what makes the Eternal Alliance what it is – well, it’s still forming. It’s constantly evolving. Morale is high, and I think it’s a good thing overall that people realize the Commander is a person and not some ‘mythic hero’, but it does open up the possibility of people trying to influence him through… backdoor means.” He focused on her intently.

“We kinda need your help making sure things like that don’t happen.”

“I can do that.” Kira nodded in agreement, then gave him a hopeful look. “And you know what? Just as a gesture… I have, in fact, been approached by three different people this past week, asking me if I could ‘have a word’ with the Commander on their behalf. For more resources, or to approve some project or just for some other favor. I very politely told them all to go through you and Lana.”

“Really? Wow.” His eyes widened in surprise. “I mean, I appreciate that. I know Lana will, too.”

Kira studied the former SIS agent closely. She’d almost missed it.

“You already knew, didn’t you?” she smirked. She’d heard that Theron kept an eye on things around the Alliance base, and she believed it.

“Actually no!” Theron’s face turned jovial at the half-hearted protest, chuckling. He had cheered up considerably, and he seemed to be getting used to Kira being able to read him. “I only knew about Oggurobb requesting more funding for his new xenobiology lab and Gault’s little currency exchange scheme. What was the third?”

“The Mandalorians.” Kira grinned. “Khomo Fett talked to me. They were hoping for a larger allotment of recovered Zakuulan equipment.”

“Really?” Theron made a face. “Sheesh. We already gave them ten crates of personal weaponry!”

“They’re Mandos, Theron. They always want more guns.”

Theron rolled his eyes.

“Well, regardless, thanks for telling me. You can always bring these things to me, Kira. I won’t let it get back to anyone.”

“Appreciate that.” She rewarded him with a smirk. There was no sense in developing a reputation as a snitch. “I’m glad we worked this out. And to answer your original question, I’m not gonna tell you he’s doing perfect, Theron. The Emperor… Vitiate… Valkorion… Tenebrae… whatever the hell his name is this week… did a number on him. But yeah, he’s okay. He’s recovering. Honestly.”

Theron’s face suddenly turned in an amused expression as he covered his lips with his fingers. Kira made a face as she reached out and swatted him in the arm, playfully.

“And no. It is NOT just because he’s not sleeping alone anymore.”

That got another chuckle from Theron.

“Sorry. Sorry. It’s just kinda nice to see the both of you happy. You both deserve it.” He let out a breath. “I’m sorry we take up so much of his time. I know that can put a strain on things. It must be tough, even now.”

Kira appreciated Theron’s sentiment. She truly did. But the temptation to have some fun with him was too good to resist, so she smirked across the table at him.

“Theron Shan. Everything else I’ve been going through aside do I look like a woman who’s unsatisfied?”

Theron visibly rolled his eyes at the innuendo. “Alright, alright. Fair enough.”

“All that legendary stamina he has isn’t just for fighting, you know.” She pressed.

“Oh stop it.” Now he was starting to get flustered.

“I can deal with the rest of it knowing that the greatest warrior in the galaxy does this thing with his tongue…” she was getting vicious, now.

“Kira!” Theron barely kept his voice down, looking aghast. She noted with amusement that he had turned red with embarrassment. “I surrender. You’ve made your point.”

“Good, because I was going to start discussing the finesse of his swordplay, next.”

Theron groaned, head falling forward in his arms.

“Force. I need another drink.”

Kira managed to stifle her laugh, just watching him smugly.

“Anyway, Theron, I do appreciate your concern about Corellan. And Lana’s. And everyone else’s, for that matter. But making sure he’s doing okay isn’t your job.”

Her smirk widened as his head rose to look back up at her.

“That’s my job, Theron.”

He sat back, with an impressed look at her resolve. “Fair enough, Kira. I accept all of that, and I trust you. But can you do me the favor of telling us if he ever does need help? If there’s ever anything he needs from us that he’s too stubborn to ask us? Because I dealt with not knowing what he needed for almost two months and I don’t want to do that again.”

Kira looked across the table at Theron and felt trust and affection for how far he’d gone. For the galaxy, the Alliance, and for Corellan.

“I promise.” She vowed quietly, now with complete sincerity.

“Thanks.” Theron smiled like weight of the galaxy had been taken off his shoulders. “Still though. Joking aside, this must be rough. Sharing him with everyone else, I mean.”

Kira didn’t respond right away. She simply withdrew into herself for a long moment as, not for the first time that day, she studied Theron’s features in deep consideration.

Should I really trust him with this?

She gave a quick glance around the cantina. If anyone had been paying attention to them at the start of their talk, that had long since passed. People were going about their business. Finally satisfied that they had a reasonable amount of privacy here, she reached down to her waist and unclipped her lightsaber from her belt.

Theron blinked in surprise as she set the double-bladed weapon down on the table lengthwise, but to his credit, he demonstrated no other concern at being this close to such a lethal device. That done, she took up the hilt again in both hands, ignoring the activation stud. Instead, she carefully twisted both ends of the weapon, triggering a mechanism that allowed a small panel in the middle of the staff to slide out of place.

The hidden chamber revealed within Kira’s hilt was tiny, only a few millimeters wide, and not even as long. But it was large enough for what it contained within.

Kira held out the staff hilt towards Theron, just far enough for him to peer into the chamber.

The former SIS agent’s jaw dropped.

Kira’s lips turned up just a bit in another satisfied smile. She gave him a second, then withdrew the hilt, twisted both ends back into place. The weapon was once again much like any other deactivated double-bladed lightsaber. It clipped neatly to her belt, as she sat back to regard him.

Theron visibly swallowed as he recovered from the surprise. Rather shaken, he sipped his drink.

“How long?” he finally asked, struggling to look Kira in the eyes.

“Since before we met you.” She turned away from him now, looking just over his shoulder. Her expression grew wistful, as she remembered that one skiing adventure on Alderaan.

“And he still…?” he left the question unfinished.

“When I woke up, he said I could take it out and hold him to it whenever I wanted.” Kira answered it anyway. “That it was my choice. But he told me that he hoped that I would wait until I had given this place a chance. When I was totally comfortable here, with this place and these people.”

She closed her eyes and bit her lip.

“I’ve been sharing Corellan Halcyon with the rest of the galaxy for years, Theron Shan. I can share him with you guys for a little longer if it gets all of us all to a better place. A better galaxy.” She sipped the last of her Tatooine Sunset, her deep blue eyes looking up at Theron. “I know that when I… cash this thing in, it won’t be the end of it. And that’s okay! Yeah, part of me wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my life lying on the beach on Rishi, working on my tan while he rubs me down with lotion. Or soaking in a hot spring with him. Or even just laying curled up in bed with him. But I’m an adrenaline junkie. I know I’d get bored of that eventually. I know there will be more missions, and fighting, and lunatics trying to burn down the galaxy. I’d just like to be able to kidnap him for a vacation now and again without worrying that it’ll plunge the galaxy into war.”

“But for now, it’s enough for me to have it, and to know what it means.”

She set the empty glass down.

“So yeah. I can play ball with you. I can objectively tell you when he needs time off. And I can promise to do all I can to help you and Lana keep the Alliance going, and not keep him in bed late into the mornings. But I do need something in return from you. And from Lana, I guess. Someday, I’ll ask the two of you to do something for me.”

Theron tried to keep his face nonplussed at the offer and did a pretty good job of it. No surprise, given that he’d been a professional spy. Playing it cool, he took the second empty glass Rex had given him and filled it, lightly pushing it in Kira’s direction before topping off his own glass.

“Sure. What is it you want?” he asked. Theron’s words were nonchalant, but he couldn’t entirely keep the wariness from his voice.

Kira felt her lips turn upward in a sincere smile. Her eyes drifted over Theron’s shoulder again, as she watched an assortment of Alliance members lingering around the cantina’s dance floor. Nothing particularly remarkable seemed to be going on. Most of them were just talking and laughing. A pair of couples were slowly dancing to that Force-awful Huttese music playing on the jukebox. They were just idly socializing.

They were just living.

She sipped the Corellian whiskey. It was a bit dry for her tastes, but even with her slight buzz going, it took the edge off. And even after her Sunset, she needed that right now.

“Someday I’ll ask for the two of you to tell him that he can finally stop fighting.” Kira’s voice dropped to a murmur. “He’s always been a hero. For as long as I’ve known him, and since long before your mother called him one. But he’s always had to be a hero because no one else could do it. Someday I need for the two of you to tell him that it’s okay. That he’s done enough for the galaxy. That its someone else’s turn to be the hero and get shot at. That he can just… walk off into the sunset.” With me on his arm. She didn’t bother to add. “That he can finally try to find some peace in this lifetime.”

“That he can finally just live.”

Her eyes refocused on Theron’s. He was looking back at her with a sympathetic look in his eyes.

“Don’t you think he deserves that much, Theron?” she pressed quietly, seeking affirmation.

Theron’s eyes turned away from her, regarding his glass. He finally downed the remainder of his drink.

“It… might be awhile before we can do that, Kira. A long while.”

“I know.” She had no illusions regarding the state of the galaxy, or of people’s natures. There’d always be someone causing trouble who needed to be dealt with, just as there’d always be someone out there who needed help.

But maybe – maybe – someone else could be the one to answer the bell when it rang.

“Okay.” Theron nodded. “I promise you: I’ll do everything in my power to find a way to make that future happen.” He looked back at her a bit puzzled. “I do wonder about one thing: What will he become if he’s not the hero?”

Kira bit her lip, then finished off her own drink.

“I dunno. I just know I’ll be there for him when it happens.” She looked down at the last drop of whiskey in her glass, then back up at him.

“Thanks for the drinks.” she offered.

“Well, thank you for the favors.” He smiled, raising his glass to her in a toast.

She grinned, picking up her own glass and clinking it to his for the second time that day.

“What’s a few small favors between friends?”

_________________________________________________

Author’s Notes: For the record, having your girlfriend come back into your life does not magically heal someone of trauma. But sometimes, it does help, especially when you’re the type of person who has a difficult time sharing their issues with others.

For those who’ve missed it, I am diverging dramatically from the storyline post-KOTET. Kira running with a resistance movement during the five-year gap was alluded to in the Master Ranos conversations but was then ignored or abandoned. The ‘Traitor’ arc basically doesn’t happen here with corresponding changes to other events.