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rivulet027 Sep. 27th, 2021 01:26 am)
rivulet027 Sep. 27th, 2021 01:26 am)Title: Into Substance and Hue
Fandom: Star Wars
Pairings: Quinlan/Fox, Stone/Feemor, Dormé/Thire
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Star Wars. It's not my toy box and I'm merely playing.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Quinlan Vos is tasked with finding the Sith that's hiding in the Senate. Fox agrees to pretend to date him to get Quinlan access to the Senate building.
A/N: Thanks tothesecondbatgirl and MapleOwl18 for all the encourage. Also thank you to MapleOwl18 for the beta.
A/N2: Dormé and Padmé are pregnant in this fic, but their pregnancies will not be the focus. The topic will get brought up and discussed, but there will be no pregnancy drama unless you count Thire suing the Republic for paternity leave.
Chapter 4:
There’s a comm going off incessantly. Quinlan barely registers that it’s not his. It's frustrating. Fox is a warm sleepy presence pressing against his back. There's an arm around his waist and legs tangled with his. The last thing Quinlan wants to do is move. He feels Fox come awake beside him: bleary and annoyed. Quinlan reaches over and gropes for the comm, then passes it to Fox before covering his face with his hands. Quinlan wills himself to relax as Fox answers. He reaches over and checks his chrono. It's the middle of the night! Quinlan keeps himself from groaning, he doesn't want to risk making Fox appear unprofessional.
Tired he turns to glance at Fox. Mas Amedda is giving Fox a platform designation and a time.
“Yes sir,” Fox acknowledges. “I’ll meet you there with my men. Does the Chancellor require anyone to travel with him to the platform?”
“Not this time,” Mas Amedda answers. “Should another guard lead in your place? You seem occupied.”
Quinlan frowns. The tone is biting, the words chiding, but the fear they raise in Fox seems disproportionate to the situation.
“No sir,” Fox answers, voice deceptively even. “I will be there, on time.”
“Be early,” Mas Amedda advises before cutting the transmission.
Quinlan starts to sit up, but Fox pushes him back down, saying. “Only I have to go.”
“So much for you getting a day off,” Quinlan mutters.
Fox snorts. “I’ll take one when we get back.”
His words make Quinlan realize how much Fox doesn’t know about the mission he’s just been called to. Where is the Chancellor going? How long will he and his men be gone?
“Thire will rearrange our schedules,” Fox reassures before he calls a Jek and Rhys to meet him at the platform. Then he crawls over Quinlan to get out of bed. Quinlan resists distracting him.
“Do you need help getting back into your armor?” Quinlan asks.
“Go back to sleep,” Fox encourages as he shucks off the shirt and pants he borrowed the night before and grabs his blacks.
Quinlan props his face on his hand as he rolls to face Fox. “If you think I’m going to be able to sleep when there’s a handsome naked man in my room…”
It gets the snort he wants from Fox, but it doesn’t ease the low level of anxiety that’s simmering in him. Quinlan isn't sure how to help, he's relatively sure Fox doesn't want to discuss his feelings when he’s getting dressed as quickly as possible. He watches silently for a moment as Fox gets into his armor, letting himself enjoy the view.
"I didn't realize Amedda was so rude," Quinlan eventually says. The media tends to portray him as blunt, to the point, but kind, unless someone is trying to damage the Republic. There's a reason he's kept his position as vice chair as long as he has.
"In my experience most politicians are," Fox responds neutrally.
“I don’t usually verbally spar with politicians,” Quinlan muses.
“You’re not bad at it,” Fox tells him. There’s a hint of a smile on his face.
“Not bad?” Quinlan objects. “I’m excellent!”
“So much ego,” Fox chides teasingly as he finishes getting his armor on and grabs his helmet.
Quinlan smiles as he feels some of Fox’s tension ease. He makes a thoughtful noise, then holds a hand out towards Fox as he requests, “Kiss goodbye?”
Quinlan almost laughs at the way his request makes Fox’s thoughts turn cunning. He can feel the moment Fox makes his decision. He watches as Fox deliberately strides across the room. Then taking Quinlin’s gloved hand in his he turns Quinlan’s hand slightly, before placing a lingering kiss on Quinlan’s knuckles and glancing at him. Their eyes meet. Fox’s lips are soft where they press against his covered hand, almost featherlight. Quinlan wants nothing more than to drag Fox back into bed and peel him out of his armor so he can learn all the things that will make Fox want his touch. He wants to strip them of all the layers between them, get bare skin on bare skin. He can’t though. Fox’s duty to the Republic comes before Quinlan’s wants, is far more important than Quinlan’s lust. Fox smirks just slightly and releases Quinlan’s hand. Quinlan breathes out, his breath feels suddenly ragged. He watches as Fox slides his helmet on, nods once, and then he’s out the door. Quinlan turns his face into his pillow and groans.
*
Feemor doesn’t often invite anyone back to his room, but Stone, meditating near him, is a welcomed presence. Stone feels peaceful, calm, perhaps even pleased with himself. Feemor smiles at the sensation.
He lets himself open his eyes to look at Stone. They're on seats that are more benches than chairs facing each other. Stone is sitting in front of the window, the light streaming in gives him a warm glow. There's a faint smile on his lips. His hands rest lightly on his knees. Even in armor Stone looks relaxed. He's also surrounded by the collection of plants Feemor has in his window. Different shades of green, yellow, and purple frame Stone. Feemor stares, wishing for a moment he could capture a holo of this moment.
The alarm that Stone set chimes and Feemor tries to smile. He knew their time together after breakfast would be brief since they both have work this morning. He’s grateful the two of them still had time to meditate. Stone opens his eyes to smile at him. What can Feemor do but smile back?
“I feel like I’m getting better at meditating,” Stone comments.
“You are,” Feemor encourages. “It can take time to get used to.”
Stone unfurls from his seat, stretching a little as he stands. His armor only allows so much movement. Feemor tells himself not to stare. Stone is here because he's curious about the Force, not because he wants Feemor to ogle him.
Stone smirks and reaches into a pouch on his belt, pulling out the puzzle box Feemor gave him. He holds it out. “I guess I should give this back.”
Feemor tucks away his disappointment. He probably shouldn’t have given Stone a puzzle that only a person who is force sensitive can solve, but a part of him keeps thinking that Stone has questions about the Force because he is force sensitive. This also means that Stone didn’t get the lollipop hidden inside the box. Feemor chides himself for not thinking to give Stone a lollipop that he actually has access to. He takes the box, intending to apologize, but then Stone doesn’t let go. Instead he steps close to Feemor, still smirking as he looks up to meet Feemor’s gaze.
“Are you still free for dinner?” Stone asks. They’d made those plans yesterday. Breakfast and meditating had been impromptu. So it makes sense that Stone is asking, but his voice is low, almost sensual, and Feemor feels every part of himself go still.
“I thought you wanted to learn about the Force,” Feemor hears himself say. They aren't the words he intends, but it's clearly better than asking why Stone would be interested in him.
Stone shifts closer and Feemor leans in. Stone’s glove covered fingers brush against his. “I do, but I also wanted to learn about you.”
He’s misunderstood every interaction they’ve had, but Feemor doesn’t have it in himself to regret that. He wets his lips. “Yeah?”
Stone tilts his head, eyes accessing, but still full of a heat that Feemor feels himself mirror. He feels his cheeks flush.
“I intend to seduce you,” Stone informs him.
“Then dinner sounds like a good place to start,” Feemor manages.
“I can take my time,” Stone continues. “We can go at your pace.”
Feemor isn’t sure how to respond. Stone’s thumbs run slow circles over the backs of his hand, sending a spark of sensation through him. Feemor lets himself breathe out before he admits, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been interested in anyone. I…”
Feemor pauses and shakes his head. He tends to keep all of his relationships casual lately. It’s easier that way. Losing both Xanatos and Qui-Gon, and Dooku leaving the Order took a long time to heal from. The few friends he had died early in the war. Finding out that Dooku is a Sith still hurts in ways he can’t always articulate. It’s easy to feel as if he’s not contributing enough, since so many Jedi and clones are fighting and dying in a war Dooku helps perpetuate. Protecting the temple and the people living here, and the place where the people fighting this war feel at peace, is important, but there are times he worries he could be helping more. The thought makes him consider that he doesn’t deserve Stone’s offer of seduction or even friendship, but then he thinks of the last few months and how Stone slowly became his friend. It makes him remember that the first thing Stone did was compliment him on his physique and then make a point of greeting him any time he came to the temple, which slowly led to brief conversations, then questions about the Force until they were having meals together. They’ve already been friends for a while, Feemor realizes. This also isn’t the first time he’s noticed how attractive Stone is. He’s still not sure how he wants to respond, none of his thoughts actually leave him with any words he feels comfortable saying.
Stone gives his hands a brief squeeze and Feemor realizes that Stone is giving him space to process what he wants to say. Feemor ducks his head.
“Dinner?” Stone prompts.
Feemor nods. “Yes, please.”
Stone shifts, goes up on his toes and presses a kiss to one side of Feemor’s lips. Then Stone drops back down onto his heels, releasing Feemor’s hands.
“I’ll see you then,” Stone reassures before he snags his helmet off Feemor’s desk and heads out the door leaving Feemor to stare at the puzzle box in his hands. He turns the smooth wooden box over and considers opening it. He can give Stone the lollipop when they meet for dinner. A part of him just wants to keep the puzzle, a reminder that some misunderstandings can be fixed, can be minor. Sighing, Feemor sets the puzzle on his dresser and then gets dressed in his guard uniform so he can remind visitors to the temple to remain in the public areas they're allowed access to. Those areas have become smaller and smaller as the war has dragged on.
*
There’s something troubling Dormé and Thire isn't sure if it's classified or not. He wants to ask, but she's pushing her food around her plate and he'd rather distract her.
"Did you hear about what Grizzler did to Senator Mothma?" he asks.
Dormé makes a noise of interest and looks from her plate to him. He grins at her and enjoys the way she smiles back. He doesn't enjoy that her smile is tired and he wonders if he can get her to go to bed early tonight. Maybe she'd let him go down on her, she always seems to sleep better after a few orgasms. She raises one eyebrow and her face says she knows exactly what he's thinking. He smirks. Her mind is as dirty as his.
"You're distracting me," she protests, but her tone is more a laughing tease, than chiding.
"By telling you about how Grizzler stole Senator Mothma's shoe or by considering how I might ensure you have pleasant dreams?" Thire teases back, then wets his lips.
Dormé’s face goes wanting. Then she shakes herself and says, "Story and sex later, I hope…"
She hopes? What's wrong? Thire feels himself go on alert. He knows Dormé can handle anything she puts her mind to, she doesn't need his help, but if she's bringing a situation to his attention that means she wants his help. What can he do but rise to the occasion? He sets his fork down and reaches for her hands.
She takes his hands and squeezes, before she continues, "I'm not even sure how to tell you this. We made so many plans."
They've voiced dreams Thire knows aren't likely to come true. Either one of them might not survive till the end of this war, they might not even survive their next missions.
"We’re pregnant."
“We? But the Kamioans always said...I, really? I’m not infertile?”
“Really,” Dormé grins. “You’re the only one I’ve been having sex with and I’m definitely pregnant.”
Thire stares for a moment, caught between confusion and joy. Clones aren’t infertile! He’s likely going to end up an uncle many times over. He and Dormé are going to have a baby! Him and Dormé! Then the worry sets in. How is he going to help Dormé raise their child? He's helped take care of clone cadets, but that doesn't mean he knows how to be a dad. He knows how to help train fellow soldiers. He didn’t even think he could have children. The Kaminoans always insisted all the clones are infertile, clearly they were wrong. Does that mean he and Dormé can have more than one child? How are they even going to afford one child on Coruscant when he doesn't even get paid? Is there a way to get extra time off to help? He and Dormé will figure this out together, he reminds himself. He kisses her knuckles and grins. "I know this changes our plans and now there'll be a lot of new things to figure out, but together I know we'll find a way."
"We will," she agrees. She's not relaxing though, her shoulders are still tense and her eyes are still on alert.
"There's more?" Thire pushes.
"So perceptive."
"It's one of the things you love about me," Thire teases, hoping to lighten her mood. They'll face what's bothering her together.
"One of the many things I love about you," she agrees. Then she tells him, "Padmé had a thought that we might be able to start the process of getting all clones rights by having you sue for paternity leave."
"Sue," Thire repeats. "I'll need a lawyer?"
"We've only just started to research, we haven't gone so far as to look at lawyers. I wanted to talk to you first."
"If I can do anything to help myself or any vod get citizenship I will, and especially if it will help our child," Thire reassures. Then he says slowly, "Thorn has a friend, Kallus, he's made Fox several lists of rules that should apply to us but don't."
Dormé frowns. "What kind of rules?"
Thire opens his mouth. He tries not to think of all the things he doesn’t have, especially when he's with Dormé. What was the most recent thing Fox tried to get fixed? Thire shrugs. "All breakrooms are supposed to have conservators?"
She frowns.
"Fox put in a request for one," Thire continues. "I guess there's another rule that says offices aren't supposed to have conservators."
"Some senators would never leave their offices if they didn't have to," Dormé comments. Then she shakes her head. "I thought Fox’s office being in your breakroom was temporary?"
"That's what we were told," Thire comments.
Dormé scowls, then her face goes considering. She's plotting. Thire can't help but kiss her knuckles.
"Kallus, you don't mean the senator from Eiattu: you mean his son?" She attempts to clarify.
"Yes," Thire nods. "Sasha and Thorn are friends, not the senator. I don't think Sasha actually gets along with his father."
“Senator Kallus is,” Dormé breaks off to grimace. “There’s really not a polite way to say he’s a classist jackass. Which is just some of the many reasons his wife divorced him. She’s why you’re bringing up his son, since she’s a lawyer..”
“Yes,” Thire confirms.“Do you think she’d be willing to help? I’m sure Sasha would and I know he likes his mother.”
“She’s a good lawyer and this would be the kind of case she’d be interested in.”
“If I see Sasha I’ll talk to him and see about talking to his mother, if I don’t see him then I’ll get his comm number from Thorn.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Dormé grins.
Thire squeezes her hands, then addresses his other worry. “Do you know if there are parenting classes?”
“I’ve looked into a few. Did you want to go over them with me? I think we should be able to take them together.
Thire grins.
*
Feemor feels distracted and sad when he meets Stone outside Stone’s favorite dining hall. Stone frowns, drawing the taller man into a hug, wanting to ask what’s wrong. Did he push too quickly earlier by saying he intends to seduce Feemor? As Feemor pulls away he holds out a lollipop to Stone. A part of him is happy to see Stone. He’s not the thing Feemor is worrying about, Stone realizes, and Feemor is trying to concentrate on him, on their date, and not whatever’s upsetting him. So Stone doesn’t voice his disappointment over the lollipop. All this means is that Feemor hasn’t discovered the chocolate that Stone carefully wrapped and hid in the puzzle box.
“My apologies,” Feemor says. “I should’ve given you one before.”
For a moment Stone wants to pull out the one he’s got in a belt pouch, but he doesn’t want to ruin the surprise of finding chocolate for Feemor. Stone still isn’t sure how he solved the puzzle box. He was tired from a long shift so working on it after didn’t make it clear to him what he’d done to get it open. That doesn’t diminish his pride that he managed to figure out a puzzle they give Jedi younglings.
“Thank you,” Stone manages as he takes the lollipop and puts it into the same belt pouch he already has one in. “Did you want to get food or do you want to go for a walk?”
Normally they would pick up trays and take them back to Feemor’s room since his room is the only place that Feemor removes his mask, but Stone isn’t sure talking over a meal with the pressure of this being a date is what Feemor needs right now.
Feemor tilts his head, indicating his confusion. “You’re not hungry?”
“I’m a clone, I’m always hungry, and always grateful to eat something that isn’t rations, but the food’s not going anywhere and if there’s somewhere you feel more comfortable talking,” Stone lets himself trail off.
“Talking?”
“You seem upset,” Stone explains. “Sometimes talking it out helps.”
“You can tell I’m upset?” Feemor tilts his head again, voice curious.
“Yeah, your shoulders are all tense. I don’t know if you’re ready to talk about it, or even if you can, but I’m here if you want to.”
“Oh.”
Stone reaches out and squeezes Feemor’s hand and smiles at him. Feemor ducks his head, then lets Stone pull him into another hug. Feemor sighs and Stone feels some of his own tension ease as he feels Feemor relax against him.
“I haven’t left the temple in years and now Master Windu is asking me to,” Feemor explains as pulls away. He keeps hold of Stone’s hand though.
Stone isn’t sure which question to ask first. Years? Why has it been years? And where is Feemor going?
“It’s not for a few months, he doesn’t think, but he wanted to give me time to consider and get used to the idea, since it’s outside my normal duties and I wouldn’t be going as a temple guard.”
Stone squeezes Feemor’s hand and gives him a moment to collect his thoughts.
“The Twi’leks are putting together a memorial for Master Di and his men, in the place where they died. Master Di and I were friends.”
“Will it be difficult? To be at the place where he died?” Stone manages to ask when all he can think about is if he could get Fox to go. No, Fox doesn’t leave Coruscant unless he’s leading the team protecting the Chancellor. And Fox wouldn’t admit to dating another clone, that’s something they keep between themselves, since they’re not sure how the public would react. Stone is relatively sure that some of the Jedi have figured out they’re working with the occasional couple. Would lying, saying he was just good friends with Keeli, help or hurt Fox more?
“In some ways it will be difficult, but I think it would be helpful too. I would get to meet some of the people he died saving so…” Feemor trails off and shrugs. “There’s a memorial here, in one of the public areas. I may go there tomorrow to think, contemplate, what I should decide to do.”
“There’s a memorial here?” He didn’t know that. Why didn’t he know what? Out of all the Guard, he’s at the temple the most. Sure Hound is friends with Master Hett, but they often meet at the park so they can play with Grizzler.
“Yes, would you like to see it?”
Stone nods. “Would you show me? We can get food after.”
They hold hands as they walk. Feemor asks him about his day. They keep the conversation light until they’re at the memorial. There are four large holo projectors inlaid near a wall bracketed by two booths that hold smaller palm sized holo projectors. None of them are on.
"We turn them off at night to be in compliance with the conserving power mandates," Feemor explains as he lets go of Stone’s hand and steps up to the booth. Feemor presses a button. The projector nearest them flickers to life and Stone finds himself looking at the image of an ARC trooper in 501st blue.
“Echo,” Stone reads, taking in the man’s CT number. There’s a section for how he died, a list of accomplishments, even a list of likes and dislikes. “I didn’t realize this was a memorial for clones and Jedi.”
“It is. You can leave the projector to cycle through or look someone up,” Feemor explains before he types. The holo of Echo wavers and then shifts into Master Di. Feemor steps away from the booth to stand near him.
“What are the smaller projectors for?” Stone asks.
“Anyone can copy some data onto them and then have a memory to take with them,” Feemor says.
Stone reaches for his hand again. Feemor tangles their fingers. Stone squeezes. He wants to ask if Feemor knew Keeli. He wants to ask if they have every clone from the Battle of Abregado or the Battle of Sarrish or...Stone stops himself, so many have died. Could he look at Glitch, his batchmate who died? Do they really have every clone? He doesn’t ask though, they came down here for Feemor.
Feemor presses close. “You can ask. It’s a lot, especially if you didn’t know this was here.”
Stone looks up at the mask that’s the same on every Temple guard. The guards are all meant to look the same, to be almost indistinguishable to the public, but Stone doesn’t have a problem telling any of them apart. Aside from the fact that they all feel different, there are subtle differences he’s begun to pick out too. Stone manages a wet laugh as he admits. “It’s a bit much.”
He draws Feemor closer, resting his forehead against his, as he gives himself a moment to breathe.
*
Quinlan doesn’t quite realize how many datapads he’s got spread out around the table he’s working at until Tholme sits across from him. Quinlan pauses, saves his work on his personal datapad, then looks up. Tholme is leaning back in his chair, his arms are crossed and he’s got a single eyebrow raised.
“I can’t find what I’m looking for,” Quinlan complains.
“When was the last time you ate?” Tholme prods.
“T’ra ratted me out, didn’t she?”
“You’re here at the temple to rest, recover your equilibrium after your last mission. Do you really think I didn't know where to find you?” Tholme’s tone is light, teasing in a nostalgic way. Quinlan isn’t sure why Tholme is repeating his cover story for why he’s still at the temple. He hasn’t really done anything to take the media’s attention away from Aayla and Bly, but that’s difficult with Fox on a mission.
Quinlan sighs and lets himself sit back in his chair. He feels a bit unmoored with so much free time. At least he’s got a puzzle to solve and he’s been digging into information on Viento while also trying to figure out the strange way Fox’s mind went blank. He’s having more luck finding dirt on Viento. He leans in so he can hand his datapad to Tholme.
“When was the last time you slept?” Tholme asks before he takes the datapad.
“I sleep,” Quinlan protests.
“Eat?”
“I even meditated today,” Quinlan says before he checks his chrono and frowns, then corrects, “Yesterday.”
“Does Master Nu still have time limits for you?” Tholme asks.
“I have time limits on everyone,” Jocasta says as she rounds steps into the nook Quinlan’s table is in. “One can’t expect their mind to work properly if they haven’t taken breaks or eaten.”
“Exactly,” Tholme agrees, face going faux serious as he begins to look over the datapad.
“You’re fooling no one,” Jocasta tells Tholme, before she turns to Quinlan. “Start putting things away and saving what you need. Then get some food.”
“I was just planning to take him to a dining hall,” Tholme puts in. “Then we’ll meditate.”
“More likely to catch up than meditate. Get all your complaints out while he’s here Master Vos, you’re one of the few he’ll listen to.”
“If he’d listen to me I would already be away on my next mission instead of half living in your Archive,” Quinlan teases.
“More than half,” Jocasta points out. She taps her chrono, bows at both of them, before stepping away to check in on someone else.
Quinlan sighs through his nose as he begins to gather up the Archive’s datapads so he can put them on a nearby cart. Once he has them taken care of he comes back to check that he’s turned off the workstation and left the table neat, but Tholme is already clearing the space and grabbing his bag. He holds it out to Quinlan. As he takes it, Tholme indicates the datapad.“This is rather incriminating.”
“I’m still missing something important,” Quinlan muses.
“Still this is enough to turn over to the authorities,” Tholme says. “That’s quite a bit of success with only one day to poke around.”
“There’s something more I need to find first,” Quinlan says. “It’s not the right time to turn this in yet.”
Tholme nods. “We start closing in on associates too soon, before having proper evidence, and we might not flush out who we want to.”
Quinlan nods his agreement and accepts his datapad back. He stores it in his pack. Tholme stops walking and turns towards him. Quinlan stops beside him and closes his pack. “I just think this is an inefficient use of my time. There’s an easier path, a direct approach.”
“And you sounded so professional just now,” Tholme says. “Have you been practicing?”
Then Tholme steps into a nearby alcove. It’s the same alcove, Quinlan notes, he and Fox had been in a few days prior. Quinlan follows Tholme into the shadows and leans against a wall, letting himself cross one ankle over the other. Tholme waits. Quinlan shakes his head and makes sure to keep his voice low. “It makes more sense to infiltrate Dooku’s inner circle.”
“That was my first thought as well…”
“Then why am I still here?”
“Quinlan, here is where you need to be, at this moment, at this time, can you not sense that?”
Quinlan shakes his head. “There are good men out there dying, putting their lives on the line. My friends, our friends. I should be doing everything in my power to help them, not skulking around on Coruscant.”
“I could say I sense much frustration in you, but that’s obvious to both of us.”
Quinlan snorts.
“I worry for you. You’re not taking time off between missions, you’re not giving yourself time to rest and feel yourself firmly in the light like you normally would,” Tholme tells him. “While I have every faith in your ability to drag yourself back to the light, even with how dark you’d have to let yourself become for the mission you’re asking about, it didn’t feel right asking that of you, not right now.”
“It didn’t feel right because the Force is telling you that’s not the right path to take or it didn’t feel right because you didn’t want to ask it of me?” Quinlan pushes.
Tholme considers his words and Quinlan lets himself go quiet. Tholme will at least be truthful with him.
“I believe this is the right path, that you’re needed here,” Tholme says slowly.
“Shylar stopped checking in,” Quinlan says.
Tholme sighs. “You’ve stopped checking in before. It might not mean anything has happened to her.”
“Or she’s been discovered,” Quinlan stresses.
Tholme regards him quietly for a moment, but he doesn’t say that she knew the risks of trying to infiltrate Dooku’s inner circle, instead he points out sympathetically, “Would you be able to help her if you were there or would she, more likely, die thinking you’re a traitor?”
“I’m finding it frustrating,” Quinlan admits. “I’m just here doing research and waiting for Fox to get back from his mission. I’m barely helping anyone.”
“I will see what I can find, without putting her in danger,” Tholme says.
Quinlan nods tightly.
“But first we look after you. I’m thinking food, then meditation. Do you need to spar?”
“Sparring would probably help me clear my head,” Quinlan admits. “T’ra might join us for medication.”
“She might,” Tholme agrees, smiling.
Quinlan tries to smile back. He’ll find his balance again, eventually, hopefully before Fox gets back.
Chapters: [1] [2][3][4]
Fandom: Star Wars
Pairings: Quinlan/Fox, Stone/Feemor, Dormé/Thire
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Star Wars. It's not my toy box and I'm merely playing.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Quinlan Vos is tasked with finding the Sith that's hiding in the Senate. Fox agrees to pretend to date him to get Quinlan access to the Senate building.
A/N: Thanks to
thesecondbatgirl and MapleOwl18 for all the encourage. Also thank you to MapleOwl18 for the beta.A/N2: Dormé and Padmé are pregnant in this fic, but their pregnancies will not be the focus. The topic will get brought up and discussed, but there will be no pregnancy drama unless you count Thire suing the Republic for paternity leave.
Chapter 4:
There’s a comm going off incessantly. Quinlan barely registers that it’s not his. It's frustrating. Fox is a warm sleepy presence pressing against his back. There's an arm around his waist and legs tangled with his. The last thing Quinlan wants to do is move. He feels Fox come awake beside him: bleary and annoyed. Quinlan reaches over and gropes for the comm, then passes it to Fox before covering his face with his hands. Quinlan wills himself to relax as Fox answers. He reaches over and checks his chrono. It's the middle of the night! Quinlan keeps himself from groaning, he doesn't want to risk making Fox appear unprofessional.
Tired he turns to glance at Fox. Mas Amedda is giving Fox a platform designation and a time.
“Yes sir,” Fox acknowledges. “I’ll meet you there with my men. Does the Chancellor require anyone to travel with him to the platform?”
“Not this time,” Mas Amedda answers. “Should another guard lead in your place? You seem occupied.”
Quinlan frowns. The tone is biting, the words chiding, but the fear they raise in Fox seems disproportionate to the situation.
“No sir,” Fox answers, voice deceptively even. “I will be there, on time.”
“Be early,” Mas Amedda advises before cutting the transmission.
Quinlan starts to sit up, but Fox pushes him back down, saying. “Only I have to go.”
“So much for you getting a day off,” Quinlan mutters.
Fox snorts. “I’ll take one when we get back.”
His words make Quinlan realize how much Fox doesn’t know about the mission he’s just been called to. Where is the Chancellor going? How long will he and his men be gone?
“Thire will rearrange our schedules,” Fox reassures before he calls a Jek and Rhys to meet him at the platform. Then he crawls over Quinlan to get out of bed. Quinlan resists distracting him.
“Do you need help getting back into your armor?” Quinlan asks.
“Go back to sleep,” Fox encourages as he shucks off the shirt and pants he borrowed the night before and grabs his blacks.
Quinlan props his face on his hand as he rolls to face Fox. “If you think I’m going to be able to sleep when there’s a handsome naked man in my room…”
It gets the snort he wants from Fox, but it doesn’t ease the low level of anxiety that’s simmering in him. Quinlan isn't sure how to help, he's relatively sure Fox doesn't want to discuss his feelings when he’s getting dressed as quickly as possible. He watches silently for a moment as Fox gets into his armor, letting himself enjoy the view.
"I didn't realize Amedda was so rude," Quinlan eventually says. The media tends to portray him as blunt, to the point, but kind, unless someone is trying to damage the Republic. There's a reason he's kept his position as vice chair as long as he has.
"In my experience most politicians are," Fox responds neutrally.
“I don’t usually verbally spar with politicians,” Quinlan muses.
“You’re not bad at it,” Fox tells him. There’s a hint of a smile on his face.
“Not bad?” Quinlan objects. “I’m excellent!”
“So much ego,” Fox chides teasingly as he finishes getting his armor on and grabs his helmet.
Quinlan smiles as he feels some of Fox’s tension ease. He makes a thoughtful noise, then holds a hand out towards Fox as he requests, “Kiss goodbye?”
Quinlan almost laughs at the way his request makes Fox’s thoughts turn cunning. He can feel the moment Fox makes his decision. He watches as Fox deliberately strides across the room. Then taking Quinlin’s gloved hand in his he turns Quinlan’s hand slightly, before placing a lingering kiss on Quinlan’s knuckles and glancing at him. Their eyes meet. Fox’s lips are soft where they press against his covered hand, almost featherlight. Quinlan wants nothing more than to drag Fox back into bed and peel him out of his armor so he can learn all the things that will make Fox want his touch. He wants to strip them of all the layers between them, get bare skin on bare skin. He can’t though. Fox’s duty to the Republic comes before Quinlan’s wants, is far more important than Quinlan’s lust. Fox smirks just slightly and releases Quinlan’s hand. Quinlan breathes out, his breath feels suddenly ragged. He watches as Fox slides his helmet on, nods once, and then he’s out the door. Quinlan turns his face into his pillow and groans.
*
Feemor doesn’t often invite anyone back to his room, but Stone, meditating near him, is a welcomed presence. Stone feels peaceful, calm, perhaps even pleased with himself. Feemor smiles at the sensation.
He lets himself open his eyes to look at Stone. They're on seats that are more benches than chairs facing each other. Stone is sitting in front of the window, the light streaming in gives him a warm glow. There's a faint smile on his lips. His hands rest lightly on his knees. Even in armor Stone looks relaxed. He's also surrounded by the collection of plants Feemor has in his window. Different shades of green, yellow, and purple frame Stone. Feemor stares, wishing for a moment he could capture a holo of this moment.
The alarm that Stone set chimes and Feemor tries to smile. He knew their time together after breakfast would be brief since they both have work this morning. He’s grateful the two of them still had time to meditate. Stone opens his eyes to smile at him. What can Feemor do but smile back?
“I feel like I’m getting better at meditating,” Stone comments.
“You are,” Feemor encourages. “It can take time to get used to.”
Stone unfurls from his seat, stretching a little as he stands. His armor only allows so much movement. Feemor tells himself not to stare. Stone is here because he's curious about the Force, not because he wants Feemor to ogle him.
Stone smirks and reaches into a pouch on his belt, pulling out the puzzle box Feemor gave him. He holds it out. “I guess I should give this back.”
Feemor tucks away his disappointment. He probably shouldn’t have given Stone a puzzle that only a person who is force sensitive can solve, but a part of him keeps thinking that Stone has questions about the Force because he is force sensitive. This also means that Stone didn’t get the lollipop hidden inside the box. Feemor chides himself for not thinking to give Stone a lollipop that he actually has access to. He takes the box, intending to apologize, but then Stone doesn’t let go. Instead he steps close to Feemor, still smirking as he looks up to meet Feemor’s gaze.
“Are you still free for dinner?” Stone asks. They’d made those plans yesterday. Breakfast and meditating had been impromptu. So it makes sense that Stone is asking, but his voice is low, almost sensual, and Feemor feels every part of himself go still.
“I thought you wanted to learn about the Force,” Feemor hears himself say. They aren't the words he intends, but it's clearly better than asking why Stone would be interested in him.
Stone shifts closer and Feemor leans in. Stone’s glove covered fingers brush against his. “I do, but I also wanted to learn about you.”
He’s misunderstood every interaction they’ve had, but Feemor doesn’t have it in himself to regret that. He wets his lips. “Yeah?”
Stone tilts his head, eyes accessing, but still full of a heat that Feemor feels himself mirror. He feels his cheeks flush.
“I intend to seduce you,” Stone informs him.
“Then dinner sounds like a good place to start,” Feemor manages.
“I can take my time,” Stone continues. “We can go at your pace.”
Feemor isn’t sure how to respond. Stone’s thumbs run slow circles over the backs of his hand, sending a spark of sensation through him. Feemor lets himself breathe out before he admits, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been interested in anyone. I…”
Feemor pauses and shakes his head. He tends to keep all of his relationships casual lately. It’s easier that way. Losing both Xanatos and Qui-Gon, and Dooku leaving the Order took a long time to heal from. The few friends he had died early in the war. Finding out that Dooku is a Sith still hurts in ways he can’t always articulate. It’s easy to feel as if he’s not contributing enough, since so many Jedi and clones are fighting and dying in a war Dooku helps perpetuate. Protecting the temple and the people living here, and the place where the people fighting this war feel at peace, is important, but there are times he worries he could be helping more. The thought makes him consider that he doesn’t deserve Stone’s offer of seduction or even friendship, but then he thinks of the last few months and how Stone slowly became his friend. It makes him remember that the first thing Stone did was compliment him on his physique and then make a point of greeting him any time he came to the temple, which slowly led to brief conversations, then questions about the Force until they were having meals together. They’ve already been friends for a while, Feemor realizes. This also isn’t the first time he’s noticed how attractive Stone is. He’s still not sure how he wants to respond, none of his thoughts actually leave him with any words he feels comfortable saying.
Stone gives his hands a brief squeeze and Feemor realizes that Stone is giving him space to process what he wants to say. Feemor ducks his head.
“Dinner?” Stone prompts.
Feemor nods. “Yes, please.”
Stone shifts, goes up on his toes and presses a kiss to one side of Feemor’s lips. Then Stone drops back down onto his heels, releasing Feemor’s hands.
“I’ll see you then,” Stone reassures before he snags his helmet off Feemor’s desk and heads out the door leaving Feemor to stare at the puzzle box in his hands. He turns the smooth wooden box over and considers opening it. He can give Stone the lollipop when they meet for dinner. A part of him just wants to keep the puzzle, a reminder that some misunderstandings can be fixed, can be minor. Sighing, Feemor sets the puzzle on his dresser and then gets dressed in his guard uniform so he can remind visitors to the temple to remain in the public areas they're allowed access to. Those areas have become smaller and smaller as the war has dragged on.
*
There’s something troubling Dormé and Thire isn't sure if it's classified or not. He wants to ask, but she's pushing her food around her plate and he'd rather distract her.
"Did you hear about what Grizzler did to Senator Mothma?" he asks.
Dormé makes a noise of interest and looks from her plate to him. He grins at her and enjoys the way she smiles back. He doesn't enjoy that her smile is tired and he wonders if he can get her to go to bed early tonight. Maybe she'd let him go down on her, she always seems to sleep better after a few orgasms. She raises one eyebrow and her face says she knows exactly what he's thinking. He smirks. Her mind is as dirty as his.
"You're distracting me," she protests, but her tone is more a laughing tease, than chiding.
"By telling you about how Grizzler stole Senator Mothma's shoe or by considering how I might ensure you have pleasant dreams?" Thire teases back, then wets his lips.
Dormé’s face goes wanting. Then she shakes herself and says, "Story and sex later, I hope…"
She hopes? What's wrong? Thire feels himself go on alert. He knows Dormé can handle anything she puts her mind to, she doesn't need his help, but if she's bringing a situation to his attention that means she wants his help. What can he do but rise to the occasion? He sets his fork down and reaches for her hands.
She takes his hands and squeezes, before she continues, "I'm not even sure how to tell you this. We made so many plans."
They've voiced dreams Thire knows aren't likely to come true. Either one of them might not survive till the end of this war, they might not even survive their next missions.
"We’re pregnant."
“We? But the Kamioans always said...I, really? I’m not infertile?”
“Really,” Dormé grins. “You’re the only one I’ve been having sex with and I’m definitely pregnant.”
Thire stares for a moment, caught between confusion and joy. Clones aren’t infertile! He’s likely going to end up an uncle many times over. He and Dormé are going to have a baby! Him and Dormé! Then the worry sets in. How is he going to help Dormé raise their child? He's helped take care of clone cadets, but that doesn't mean he knows how to be a dad. He knows how to help train fellow soldiers. He didn’t even think he could have children. The Kaminoans always insisted all the clones are infertile, clearly they were wrong. Does that mean he and Dormé can have more than one child? How are they even going to afford one child on Coruscant when he doesn't even get paid? Is there a way to get extra time off to help? He and Dormé will figure this out together, he reminds himself. He kisses her knuckles and grins. "I know this changes our plans and now there'll be a lot of new things to figure out, but together I know we'll find a way."
"We will," she agrees. She's not relaxing though, her shoulders are still tense and her eyes are still on alert.
"There's more?" Thire pushes.
"So perceptive."
"It's one of the things you love about me," Thire teases, hoping to lighten her mood. They'll face what's bothering her together.
"One of the many things I love about you," she agrees. Then she tells him, "Padmé had a thought that we might be able to start the process of getting all clones rights by having you sue for paternity leave."
"Sue," Thire repeats. "I'll need a lawyer?"
"We've only just started to research, we haven't gone so far as to look at lawyers. I wanted to talk to you first."
"If I can do anything to help myself or any vod get citizenship I will, and especially if it will help our child," Thire reassures. Then he says slowly, "Thorn has a friend, Kallus, he's made Fox several lists of rules that should apply to us but don't."
Dormé frowns. "What kind of rules?"
Thire opens his mouth. He tries not to think of all the things he doesn’t have, especially when he's with Dormé. What was the most recent thing Fox tried to get fixed? Thire shrugs. "All breakrooms are supposed to have conservators?"
She frowns.
"Fox put in a request for one," Thire continues. "I guess there's another rule that says offices aren't supposed to have conservators."
"Some senators would never leave their offices if they didn't have to," Dormé comments. Then she shakes her head. "I thought Fox’s office being in your breakroom was temporary?"
"That's what we were told," Thire comments.
Dormé scowls, then her face goes considering. She's plotting. Thire can't help but kiss her knuckles.
"Kallus, you don't mean the senator from Eiattu: you mean his son?" She attempts to clarify.
"Yes," Thire nods. "Sasha and Thorn are friends, not the senator. I don't think Sasha actually gets along with his father."
“Senator Kallus is,” Dormé breaks off to grimace. “There’s really not a polite way to say he’s a classist jackass. Which is just some of the many reasons his wife divorced him. She’s why you’re bringing up his son, since she’s a lawyer..”
“Yes,” Thire confirms.“Do you think she’d be willing to help? I’m sure Sasha would and I know he likes his mother.”
“She’s a good lawyer and this would be the kind of case she’d be interested in.”
“If I see Sasha I’ll talk to him and see about talking to his mother, if I don’t see him then I’ll get his comm number from Thorn.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Dormé grins.
Thire squeezes her hands, then addresses his other worry. “Do you know if there are parenting classes?”
“I’ve looked into a few. Did you want to go over them with me? I think we should be able to take them together.
Thire grins.
*
Feemor feels distracted and sad when he meets Stone outside Stone’s favorite dining hall. Stone frowns, drawing the taller man into a hug, wanting to ask what’s wrong. Did he push too quickly earlier by saying he intends to seduce Feemor? As Feemor pulls away he holds out a lollipop to Stone. A part of him is happy to see Stone. He’s not the thing Feemor is worrying about, Stone realizes, and Feemor is trying to concentrate on him, on their date, and not whatever’s upsetting him. So Stone doesn’t voice his disappointment over the lollipop. All this means is that Feemor hasn’t discovered the chocolate that Stone carefully wrapped and hid in the puzzle box.
“My apologies,” Feemor says. “I should’ve given you one before.”
For a moment Stone wants to pull out the one he’s got in a belt pouch, but he doesn’t want to ruin the surprise of finding chocolate for Feemor. Stone still isn’t sure how he solved the puzzle box. He was tired from a long shift so working on it after didn’t make it clear to him what he’d done to get it open. That doesn’t diminish his pride that he managed to figure out a puzzle they give Jedi younglings.
“Thank you,” Stone manages as he takes the lollipop and puts it into the same belt pouch he already has one in. “Did you want to get food or do you want to go for a walk?”
Normally they would pick up trays and take them back to Feemor’s room since his room is the only place that Feemor removes his mask, but Stone isn’t sure talking over a meal with the pressure of this being a date is what Feemor needs right now.
Feemor tilts his head, indicating his confusion. “You’re not hungry?”
“I’m a clone, I’m always hungry, and always grateful to eat something that isn’t rations, but the food’s not going anywhere and if there’s somewhere you feel more comfortable talking,” Stone lets himself trail off.
“Talking?”
“You seem upset,” Stone explains. “Sometimes talking it out helps.”
“You can tell I’m upset?” Feemor tilts his head again, voice curious.
“Yeah, your shoulders are all tense. I don’t know if you’re ready to talk about it, or even if you can, but I’m here if you want to.”
“Oh.”
Stone reaches out and squeezes Feemor’s hand and smiles at him. Feemor ducks his head, then lets Stone pull him into another hug. Feemor sighs and Stone feels some of his own tension ease as he feels Feemor relax against him.
“I haven’t left the temple in years and now Master Windu is asking me to,” Feemor explains as pulls away. He keeps hold of Stone’s hand though.
Stone isn’t sure which question to ask first. Years? Why has it been years? And where is Feemor going?
“It’s not for a few months, he doesn’t think, but he wanted to give me time to consider and get used to the idea, since it’s outside my normal duties and I wouldn’t be going as a temple guard.”
Stone squeezes Feemor’s hand and gives him a moment to collect his thoughts.
“The Twi’leks are putting together a memorial for Master Di and his men, in the place where they died. Master Di and I were friends.”
“Will it be difficult? To be at the place where he died?” Stone manages to ask when all he can think about is if he could get Fox to go. No, Fox doesn’t leave Coruscant unless he’s leading the team protecting the Chancellor. And Fox wouldn’t admit to dating another clone, that’s something they keep between themselves, since they’re not sure how the public would react. Stone is relatively sure that some of the Jedi have figured out they’re working with the occasional couple. Would lying, saying he was just good friends with Keeli, help or hurt Fox more?
“In some ways it will be difficult, but I think it would be helpful too. I would get to meet some of the people he died saving so…” Feemor trails off and shrugs. “There’s a memorial here, in one of the public areas. I may go there tomorrow to think, contemplate, what I should decide to do.”
“There’s a memorial here?” He didn’t know that. Why didn’t he know what? Out of all the Guard, he’s at the temple the most. Sure Hound is friends with Master Hett, but they often meet at the park so they can play with Grizzler.
“Yes, would you like to see it?”
Stone nods. “Would you show me? We can get food after.”
They hold hands as they walk. Feemor asks him about his day. They keep the conversation light until they’re at the memorial. There are four large holo projectors inlaid near a wall bracketed by two booths that hold smaller palm sized holo projectors. None of them are on.
"We turn them off at night to be in compliance with the conserving power mandates," Feemor explains as he lets go of Stone’s hand and steps up to the booth. Feemor presses a button. The projector nearest them flickers to life and Stone finds himself looking at the image of an ARC trooper in 501st blue.
“Echo,” Stone reads, taking in the man’s CT number. There’s a section for how he died, a list of accomplishments, even a list of likes and dislikes. “I didn’t realize this was a memorial for clones and Jedi.”
“It is. You can leave the projector to cycle through or look someone up,” Feemor explains before he types. The holo of Echo wavers and then shifts into Master Di. Feemor steps away from the booth to stand near him.
“What are the smaller projectors for?” Stone asks.
“Anyone can copy some data onto them and then have a memory to take with them,” Feemor says.
Stone reaches for his hand again. Feemor tangles their fingers. Stone squeezes. He wants to ask if Feemor knew Keeli. He wants to ask if they have every clone from the Battle of Abregado or the Battle of Sarrish or...Stone stops himself, so many have died. Could he look at Glitch, his batchmate who died? Do they really have every clone? He doesn’t ask though, they came down here for Feemor.
Feemor presses close. “You can ask. It’s a lot, especially if you didn’t know this was here.”
Stone looks up at the mask that’s the same on every Temple guard. The guards are all meant to look the same, to be almost indistinguishable to the public, but Stone doesn’t have a problem telling any of them apart. Aside from the fact that they all feel different, there are subtle differences he’s begun to pick out too. Stone manages a wet laugh as he admits. “It’s a bit much.”
He draws Feemor closer, resting his forehead against his, as he gives himself a moment to breathe.
*
Quinlan doesn’t quite realize how many datapads he’s got spread out around the table he’s working at until Tholme sits across from him. Quinlan pauses, saves his work on his personal datapad, then looks up. Tholme is leaning back in his chair, his arms are crossed and he’s got a single eyebrow raised.
“I can’t find what I’m looking for,” Quinlan complains.
“When was the last time you ate?” Tholme prods.
“T’ra ratted me out, didn’t she?”
“You’re here at the temple to rest, recover your equilibrium after your last mission. Do you really think I didn't know where to find you?” Tholme’s tone is light, teasing in a nostalgic way. Quinlan isn’t sure why Tholme is repeating his cover story for why he’s still at the temple. He hasn’t really done anything to take the media’s attention away from Aayla and Bly, but that’s difficult with Fox on a mission.
Quinlan sighs and lets himself sit back in his chair. He feels a bit unmoored with so much free time. At least he’s got a puzzle to solve and he’s been digging into information on Viento while also trying to figure out the strange way Fox’s mind went blank. He’s having more luck finding dirt on Viento. He leans in so he can hand his datapad to Tholme.
“When was the last time you slept?” Tholme asks before he takes the datapad.
“I sleep,” Quinlan protests.
“Eat?”
“I even meditated today,” Quinlan says before he checks his chrono and frowns, then corrects, “Yesterday.”
“Does Master Nu still have time limits for you?” Tholme asks.
“I have time limits on everyone,” Jocasta says as she rounds steps into the nook Quinlan’s table is in. “One can’t expect their mind to work properly if they haven’t taken breaks or eaten.”
“Exactly,” Tholme agrees, face going faux serious as he begins to look over the datapad.
“You’re fooling no one,” Jocasta tells Tholme, before she turns to Quinlan. “Start putting things away and saving what you need. Then get some food.”
“I was just planning to take him to a dining hall,” Tholme puts in. “Then we’ll meditate.”
“More likely to catch up than meditate. Get all your complaints out while he’s here Master Vos, you’re one of the few he’ll listen to.”
“If he’d listen to me I would already be away on my next mission instead of half living in your Archive,” Quinlan teases.
“More than half,” Jocasta points out. She taps her chrono, bows at both of them, before stepping away to check in on someone else.
Quinlan sighs through his nose as he begins to gather up the Archive’s datapads so he can put them on a nearby cart. Once he has them taken care of he comes back to check that he’s turned off the workstation and left the table neat, but Tholme is already clearing the space and grabbing his bag. He holds it out to Quinlan. As he takes it, Tholme indicates the datapad.“This is rather incriminating.”
“I’m still missing something important,” Quinlan muses.
“Still this is enough to turn over to the authorities,” Tholme says. “That’s quite a bit of success with only one day to poke around.”
“There’s something more I need to find first,” Quinlan says. “It’s not the right time to turn this in yet.”
Tholme nods. “We start closing in on associates too soon, before having proper evidence, and we might not flush out who we want to.”
Quinlan nods his agreement and accepts his datapad back. He stores it in his pack. Tholme stops walking and turns towards him. Quinlan stops beside him and closes his pack. “I just think this is an inefficient use of my time. There’s an easier path, a direct approach.”
“And you sounded so professional just now,” Tholme says. “Have you been practicing?”
Then Tholme steps into a nearby alcove. It’s the same alcove, Quinlan notes, he and Fox had been in a few days prior. Quinlan follows Tholme into the shadows and leans against a wall, letting himself cross one ankle over the other. Tholme waits. Quinlan shakes his head and makes sure to keep his voice low. “It makes more sense to infiltrate Dooku’s inner circle.”
“That was my first thought as well…”
“Then why am I still here?”
“Quinlan, here is where you need to be, at this moment, at this time, can you not sense that?”
Quinlan shakes his head. “There are good men out there dying, putting their lives on the line. My friends, our friends. I should be doing everything in my power to help them, not skulking around on Coruscant.”
“I could say I sense much frustration in you, but that’s obvious to both of us.”
Quinlan snorts.
“I worry for you. You’re not taking time off between missions, you’re not giving yourself time to rest and feel yourself firmly in the light like you normally would,” Tholme tells him. “While I have every faith in your ability to drag yourself back to the light, even with how dark you’d have to let yourself become for the mission you’re asking about, it didn’t feel right asking that of you, not right now.”
“It didn’t feel right because the Force is telling you that’s not the right path to take or it didn’t feel right because you didn’t want to ask it of me?” Quinlan pushes.
Tholme considers his words and Quinlan lets himself go quiet. Tholme will at least be truthful with him.
“I believe this is the right path, that you’re needed here,” Tholme says slowly.
“Shylar stopped checking in,” Quinlan says.
Tholme sighs. “You’ve stopped checking in before. It might not mean anything has happened to her.”
“Or she’s been discovered,” Quinlan stresses.
Tholme regards him quietly for a moment, but he doesn’t say that she knew the risks of trying to infiltrate Dooku’s inner circle, instead he points out sympathetically, “Would you be able to help her if you were there or would she, more likely, die thinking you’re a traitor?”
“I’m finding it frustrating,” Quinlan admits. “I’m just here doing research and waiting for Fox to get back from his mission. I’m barely helping anyone.”
“I will see what I can find, without putting her in danger,” Tholme says.
Quinlan nods tightly.
“But first we look after you. I’m thinking food, then meditation. Do you need to spar?”
“Sparring would probably help me clear my head,” Quinlan admits. “T’ra might join us for medication.”
“She might,” Tholme agrees, smiling.
Quinlan tries to smile back. He’ll find his balance again, eventually, hopefully before Fox gets back.
Chapters: [1] [2][3][4]