Shereshoy

[Darven]

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Ni'ka, tion mhi lise digur kyr'adyc ca'nara? Mhi vore bic bal shaadla... tion urci bat cin vhetin - tome?

Gedet'ye, tiongar ven olaro at urcir bal emuurir shereshoy?

-Dar

..//..message.terminate..//..

[Caran V'al Counis]

A long day - some rather insistent woman going on endlessly about something or other was the endstone to it. It had taken forever to assuage her and assure her that he would get on the case when it was feasible to do so. Which would be... frelling never. A sigh, one strong hand raked through properly short hair and coming to rest on one tense shoulder, then moving to the other, was an obvious show of frustration. Correspondances, which he normally was taking care of by now, sat untouched in their inbox. It was going to be a late work day, again.

Swallowing and glancing at his chrono, Caran V'al Counis began with the top lot - regular correspondences that could simply be glossed over. He began flipping through them, skimming each for things that might indicate the message would require more notice. Some of the correspondences were a little archaic - paper! - and carefully set aside. Most everything came through to his main receptacle for messages. One of these messages was definitely worth note. The V'al Counis heir's brow furrowed and he chewed lightly at his lower lip as he looked intensely at the message before his eyes.

He couldn't understand a single frelling word of it. He recognized the style of the characters well enough, but it was one aspect of Mando'a he had never been presented with the opportunity to learn, as his teacher had left before he had the chance. He could speak the language well enough and understand it, but...

Well, there was only one person he could think of that might understand this... this nonsense. Caran lowered the datapad and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. After a moment or two, he thumbed the comm.

"Ophera?" He queried, wondering if his secretary was at all still there. Sometimes, she stuck around after the work day to keep him company, but more often, that wasn't the case. After a few moments, another speaking of her name, he gave up. He didn't know why he bothered going through what he deemed 'the proper channels' with the woman who claimed herself Mando.

Seconds later, a different tack, he put a message through to Aree's comm. No answer. Sighing ever so slightly in frustration, Caran left a message.

"Aree. It's Caran. Of course... who else would it be? I wonder that." A pause. "Anyway, please get to my office ASAP. I'll probably be here all evening and... I've something to discuss with you. Hm. That's all."

Yes, that would suffice. Clicking off the comm, Caran settled back into his seat, laced his fingers over his stomach and crossed his ankles, having deduced that this message was more than likely sent to him in error.

[Aree Ankarta]

There were days, and then there were days. And then - there was the kind of day that just dwarfed the other kinds. Kyorla - rotten. Di'kutla - worthless. Mirshepar'la - brain devouring. That kind of day.

A paperwork kind of day.

She was still in an ongoing fight with the IC Department of Vehicle Licensing, because some hu'tuun in an officer's uniform claimed she'd not handed in form VLR/13-CH. In fact, several attempts to speak to that officer had resulted only in muddling up the case further, as apparently he had now found there was something wrong with her ID number on file.

Apart from the fact that her ID chip had been heavily modified ten years ago, there shouldn't be anything wrong with its number. She'd paid a fortune to get it altered and trusted the person she'd paid the creds to - there wasn't anything anyone should find wrong with it. The name Aree Ankarta was firmly associated with it, and had been for the past 30 years - every database said so, even if the name hadn't existed eleven years ago. ICPD hadn't found any fault with it, when she'd had that little altercation with them the first week of her stay here. So why was this lowly little piece of drek now having a field day with it?!?

Aree stabbed her finger furiously into the matting of her bunk. She had thrown herself onto there after the conversation with said piece of drek had ended, frustrated and - though she didn't want to admit it to herself fully - a whole lot worried. It was important the name of her childhood wouldn't come up in association with her. More important on this world than any other.

Possibly it was all to do with her association with Caran, and that party he'd dragged her to. Maybe the inquisitors....?

Her comm - hidden underneath the thin pillow - vibrated, making her sit up and fumble for it. Not that hu'tuun again...?!? But it was Caran's voice coming from it when she activated the sound.

She'd not forgiven him for the party incident. It'd been a month since, but there were some things that were unforgivable. Even if she owed him a debt and had to deal with him upon an almost daily basis in some form or another; she'd made it a point not to deal with him in a face-to-face way, however. Apparently she'd run out of his patience.

It was just the day for it, wasn't it? Kyorla, di'kutla, mirshepar'la day. First the hu'tuun from the ICDVL, now Caran. Maybe it was a good day to lose her temper. Maybe not. She'd see what he'd want. Face to face, then. She took her helmet, just in case.

-------------------------

The three minutes' walk it took to get from the V'al Counis' private hangar to Caran's office in the Corporation building she spent rehearsing several scenarios for the impending meeting. He'd asked her to stay in Corporation housing, but after the party she'd returned to sleeping on her ship - even if it was still moored inside his family hangar. If she wanted to be fair on herself she would have admitted that life on the ship stank - literally, and she'd have liked to return to the small appartment he'd assigned to her; but it had all been a matter of pride, or wounded pride, rather. If he thought she'd relent by now, he'd be wrong, however. She might work for him, but she wasn't going to stick around during her after hours.

"You wished to see me, Mister V'al Counis?"

He never seemed to like it if she addressed him by anything but his first name, and it did give her some satisfaction to see him grimace upon her entrance. The way he sat there, though - relaxed, comfortable, devilishly handsome - made her realise how much she felt attracted to him. Well - there was no place for that here. This was strictly business; she reminded herself what a despicable person he really was, a real ge'hutuun.

[Caran V'al Counis]

Why does she do that? Frustrating.

The frequency of it meant chronic frustration for him. Having noticed her arrival, Caran sat up properly, coughed lightly and laced his fingers atop the desk. He looked Nya over, tip to... well, he couldn't see her toes past the edge of the desk and she was wearing those boots of hers, anyways. He smiled - or attempted to - and felt slightly awkward. 'Mr. V'al Counis' lifted one hand and motioned for her to take a seat.

"Please, my dear. Call me Caran. I feel old like my father, otherwise." The look on his face was nearly plaintive, but the tone of his voice was very nearly resigned. Nothing had been quite right since the Russard party and he knew quite well that all his actions for that evening had driven her to not quite liking him. He had stopped by her apartment the other evening, for the third time since then, to.... to what? Tell her he was sorry? Give her a hug? Or... he shook the thoughts off and turned his eyes to the message that was the entire purpose of this little meeting, which was queued up on the 'pad he now pushed across the desk to her, re-lacing his fingers afterwords. Between the time he had left her the message and and her arrival in his office, thoughts of what the message might mean had him, of all things, worried. And thinking of her far more than he should. No, he had to tell himself, this woman is in your employ. That wouldn't be right. Right? And besides. Being what she was...

Caran glanced up at her, just barely, before tearing them quickly away to stare out at the scenery. The sun was still a few hours from setting and it peeked through the high-reaching buildings so common on Coruscant. He couldn't stare, as much as he felt compelled to. No, not at her. Not for one single hu'tuun bone in her hodar... mesh'la... he swallowed and licked his lips, steeling his resolve.

"Could you tell me what this is about, Nya?" He asked, his eyes now lifting to bore into her. Tit for tat.

[Aree Ankarta]

The way he was looking her over wasn't lost on her. Not at all. It gave her a burning sensation inside her belly somewhere. An unpleasant burning sensation. It also made her want to slam the helmet she was still holding under her left arm over her head. As it was, she had to content herself with switching it to her right hand - then left hand, then right, until she finally became fully aware of doing so and stopped it, putting down the buy'ce on the desk between them, visor facing away from her.

When he pointed to a seat, she remained stolidly in place, remaining standing where she was - right there under his nose. Somehow - and she couldn't have said exactly how - she simply knew this was causing him some distress. She felt it, in a way that had little to do with her usual "talent". It seemed an odd echo of her own emotions, at times.

Not this time, however. This time she was steely resolve. She'd make him remember that ne shab'rud'mando'ad - you didn't mess with a Mando.

But the moment he mouthed his half-hearted displeasure about being addressed as Mister V'al Counis, she had to admit to herself that her adopted kin would probably have laughed at her weakness right then. She'd never felt less of a warrior. It actually somehow made her cringe with a sensation akin to physical pain to hear the odd, almost plaintive inflection in his voice. Or was she just imagining it? She was suddenly aware of the blood rushing through her. Her fingers sought the cooling comfort of her buy'ce's smooth surface, grabbed the helmet's sides and clung to it. The urge to slam it over her head and hide any embarrassing discoloration of her skin or sign of her own discomfort was tenfold now. Still she resisted. She dared not meet his eyes. Had forgotten all about making any mir'shebla reply to him in return about where he could shove his "my dear". Didn't even notice the silence.

Until it was broken. And then she was back. In her own self. With a bang. And all because...

"Don't call me that, shabuir! Jii 'bac jare'la! Do you have any idea how much y---"

The rest of her diatribe died off as her eyes fell inadvertedly on the first words of the message on the pad in front of her.

"Ni'ka."

She hadn't heard that for a long, long time. With a shriek-like exclamation that was utterly unlike her, she swiped up the pad from Caran's desk, scrolled down to the rest of the message ------

----- and exhaled loudly, rocking back on her heels. It was only Darven.

Shaken, she took the pad with her and retreated into the seat she had so steadfastly refused before when Caran had asked her to. Right now, Caran had ceased to exist.

'Only Darven. Listen to me - four months ago, he didn't exist, now he's only Darven...' ... but the thought petered out as she realised the bitter reality of the matter: that Dar's reappearance had somehow given her a false sense of hope that the past could somehow be undone, and certain other things - Bardan, the clan, her family - as easily returned to her as he had. Yet there it was - his message was perfect evidence of how wrong she was in hoping, for the past had certainly not been undone. Things between them had not returned to the way they had been.

She missed home. Over ten years, and she still missed it. Missed the familiarity of the big mansion, the boys' bickering, the clan's traditions - even aunt Par'jaa's cooking - and the talks with Bardan, whom she had never had the heart to call buir inspite of all. Missed the harsh training, the lessons her uncles had given her, the rigid discipline, the all-encumbering rules that had meant survival to all.

She'd lost it all. Because of Dar.

No. Because of a stupid, di'kutla moment of insanity. She owed that much to him. It wasn't his fault. He'd never been trained to resist brainwashing.

She'd been declared dar'ad. Dar'tome. Dar'manda. Told not to return until she had learnt to take control over her life. Haar'chak! It was 10 years ago! Surely they could have forgiven her by now?!?

Suddenly a great, body-wracking sob escaped her, totally unbidden, totally by surprise. It made her very self-conscious - instinctively alarming her to the fact that she was not alone. Her head flew up, her eyes meeting Caran's - which was when she realised that something wet was rolling down her cheek.

This was embarrassing.

He was still waiting for some kind of explanation, she realised. Stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the fact that her vision was impaired by the unwelcome moistness of her eyes, she stared down at the message in her hands, and cleared her throat testily.

"It's... ah ... a message for me."

[Caran V'al Counis]

Tears.

It was something he hadn't seen from her, before. Anger, yes, and plenty of it. Disdain. Disrespect. Foolishness. Misplaced ideals. But never this. He realized then, when she finally sat down, when she finally looked up at him, after several minutes of such, that he was staring. And then she explained just as he was thinking to look away, wondering how he could think of her as horribly as he did and why the entirety of himself couldn't be unanimous in the decision.

What was stranger was that he seemed to, oddly, somehow feel like he could feel the tears welling up from where they rested in the core of her. He sucked in a breath, sharply, then just kept his eyes on her, a level look and laced his fingers atop the desk, yet again. He still staunchly refused to take in any belief that he had anything to do with what his mother's admissions of infidelity might mean for him. A vile taste wanted to take place in his mouth, but he tried to ignore the whole bundle of unpleasant thoughts, emotions and other unseemly things by focusing exclusively on what was in front of him. He refocused on Aree again and was hit by the intensity of the image presented to him, with everything he knew and felt he knew of her.

"Who..." He felt the word choke off, feeling a little dry in the mouth all of a sudden. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "...might I ask who it is from?"

The tears were still coming and it made him feel decidedly uncomfortable. Part of him thought things about what was to be done about a weeping woman (which brought back old memories of someone else entirely), but... he gritted his teeth lightly and awaited her response.

[Aree Ankarta]

She had to resist the urge to wipe away the wetness on her cheeks, but to do so would be admitting something she wasn't prepared to admit. Of course, he would have seen it, but maybe if she kept on ignoring it and behaving as if everything were perfectly normal, then he would simply look past this tiny irregularity.

Her throat felt constricted. Again. She cleared it. And stifled another sob on its way up. This was ridiculous.

Of course there was the option of simply willing him to not see her like this, but somehow she knew this would not work with him. She'd not tried using her "talent" on him since their shared adventure when they'd first met, but chances were any attempts of influencing his mind would be as futile as they'd been then. Besides - not just one but several alarm bells usually went off in her head whenever she thought about using her special skills around him.

Instead she'd give him a scathing reply. It wasn't any of his business anyway, what a message to her was saying.

But when she met his eyes again, there was something in them that resounded within her, on a level so deep she had no idea it was hidden inside her all this time. It ran through her like a shudder, both icy and hot at the same time, like a blaster bolt slamming into her, through her, yet leaving no damage in its wake. She knew, instantly, without fail, that she would not lie to him. Could not.

It was a shock. She felt herself reeling from it, the ground gone from beneath her feet, yet she was still conscious of remaining in the same place, rooted to the spot. On firm ground. In Caran's office. In a chair in his office.

She became aware of the responses of her body to it. The quickening pulse. The dilating pupils. The dull beating of her heart increasing in pace. The tears - drying.

It brought her to a new level of self-consciousness. Different to the one moments before, when a couple of tears had seemed such a terrible thing. Now they were already half-forgotten, a mere trifle - compared to the enormity of this new change in herself.

She immediately took steps of guarding against it. Cast down her eyes. Looked at the message. What had it said?

Cleared her throat. Spoke softly, "A message from my former partner. He asks for ... for ... forgiveness. Wants to walk on cin vhetin - virgin snow; our way of saying we wipe the slate clean, begin afresh. He -"

Suddenly it was difficult to continue. She had realised as she was talking about it that it was Caran she wanted to walk on cin vhetin with, rather than Dar. Dar was a necessity - she needed to make amends with him, yes - but at this moment, right now... it was her opposite she wished she could start over with. A clean slate....

Once again cleared her throat. Fumbled on, very much aware of his eyes on her. "... he wishes to meet and celebrate. A kind of Mando Life Day celebration."

[Caran V'al Counis]

"I..."

What she was saying, it didn't feel right. Not to him. Why should she go? Why should she care? Not about him. Not with what he knew. Not with how she was acting now, right before him. Something was amiss. But what was he supposed to care? She was the very thing he so despised. The very kind of thing for which he had not spoken to his mother in months over. What he was...

No. He wouldn't think about that. But it was either that or her, as he seemed to be sorely lacking for other options and forcing his mind to wander elsewhere wasn't appropriate in context and it didn't seem like he would be able to think about much else, in any case.

Why was he feeling such a lack of composure?

"I suppose that would be..."

What was he thinking?

He shook head, standing up suddenly from his seat and wandering over to the windows, one hand stretched across his forehead so that he might rub both temples. Caran paced a small back and forth.

This is crazy. I have to be losing my mind. How can she want...

He had to be reasonable. Sighing and dropping his hand, he grimaced a smile, insincere as it was and put his hands on his hips, looking pointedly at the carpet before he could reasonably look at her again.

No, not again.

"Where?"

[Aree Ankarta]

Now that she was aware - too much so, perhaps - everything, everything was different. Small things became big issues. Not that they hadn't done that from time to time - just differently, now. There was a shift. From herself to him. Maybe easier, too - to focus on him, rather than on herself; rather than on the changes and consequences this might mean and bring with it.

His confusion was apparent, his restlessness confusing to her in return. What was the matter?

She suddenly found that she had no trouble looking at him, even meeting his eyes - but now it was him who would not meet hers.

With growing concern she watched him stammer, begin a sentence and drop it again in mid-thought; she watched him leap out of his chair as if fire had burnt him; watched him pace back and forth.

This was not like him. She had come to know the man in some ways, and had to figure him out in some others. She'd known there was something he was holding back from her, some reservations he was having about her - and had assigned it to their different upbringing, their different views of life.
Events at the party had taught her differently, however: she'd realised he knew - or at least suspected - what she was, and had tested her. He'd suspected, and thrown her into the rancor's pit to see how she would hold out. That was something she'd thought she would not easily forgive him for.
She'd run that night - run as far as she could; only to find herself returning the next day. Chance had thrown her back into the company of his mother - and she'd provided the remaining piece of the puzzle: that Caran hated anyone using the Force, for reasons his mother would not disclose. Cora V'al Counis had given her enough reasons to run from her son, for nothing would stop him from betraying her to the inquisitoriate; and yet - she hadn't run. She hadn't even budged - other than from the apartment to her ship. And as at first days, then weeks had passed, she'd come to trust what her instinct had told her then: that he would not betray her, inspite of all.

That was the measure of the man she'd had until now. The demons in haran only knew why she had to pick this one to feel this .... this... aalyc about. She wasn't prepared to call it any more than "emotional" just then.

But the Caran who was now pacing up and down in his office, right in front of her - the man who was stammering and dropping his sentences, the man who was apparently suddenly afraid to meet her eyes: that was a different man. And suddenly, as she was watching him with growing concern and confusion, she felt her instinct waver. Dread grew inside her heart - silent but heart-stopping dread that she had been wrong; that this was the moment he was fighting with his own conscience to betray her after all.

What had he intended to say when he'd began with "I suppose that would be...?"

All the possible endings that sentence might have implied ended in her being handed over to the inquisitoriate on a silver platter. She could not think beyond that. Horror gripped her.

As he looked up and at her, she dropped her eyes to hide the fear in them. "Where?" she heard him ask, and this confused her again. Where what? What was he asking?

She jumped up, unable to sit anymore; she had to be up, on the move, if there was any chance left to run now. Was he asking where she would run? But she stopped in front of him. Why would she do that?!? She had to go, run...!

"Caran, I...."

What could she say...? Plead for her life? Admit it all, what he already knew? Hope he would not turn her away?

Without realising it, she'd reached out, touched his hand.

[Caran V'al Counis]

Reflexively, his hand closed around her fingers. It was of little matter that the reflex stood from some five or so years before, as the memories accorded to that relationship were clicking with the here and now. It all seemed so fresh in his mind. Somehow, everything was correlating with something else in this room, in these moments and he hardly knew what to make of it.

"You can't go. I won't... I can't let you. You can't. No." He shook his head, squeezed her fingers tight, but not crushing. Caran looked down on her, a slice of pleading apparent in his eyes. And in all of one movement, he pulled her in and put an arm tightly around her, keeping her to him. It was completely irrational. But he felt pretty certain of it, then. He let go of her hand and moved it to hold the back of her head, bending his down and pressing his mouth and nose into her hair. He mumbled.

"I can't and I won't let you and..." He sighed, there, into her hair, then pulled back and looked at her face, kissed her cheek, stayed there. Breathed out, lifted his head, hand on her cheek, thumb running down her lips. "...you know you can't leave. You can't go to him. You just can't."

He was nervous, searching her eyes. Caran V'al Counis, full of confidence, heir to Counis Corporation, was nervous. He had only been beginning to grasp just how much the things of home and the past affected her, how no matter what had happened, those things took on a heavenly quality. Time strips away the shadows, leaving only the silver lining and the softness of clouds. He was nervous - afraid, even - that what her meeting with this man of her past was tantamount to in his mind. Regardless of the fact that it was not the same circumstances, the foreboding feeling was very and uncomfortably familiar. Of course, it was a foolish thought. They were by no means an... item, much less a couple. Well, a couple of somethings and nothing all that nice.

[Aree Ankarta]

One moment she was barely contained horror, the next... she didn't know what. All her instincts were failing her with this. Caran... he... there was a feeling... she'd been in close proximity with him before, but never ... this... this .... gaping hole, no air, no ground....

As she stood there, looking into his eyes as they looked into hers, for a moment - an eternity - she was lost. Truly lost. Lost for all. Breath. Thoughts. Words. She saw herself in them, through them, saw for a moment what he saw, felt for a moment what he felt. Didn't hear what he said over the roaring, the rushing gush of emotions tumbling into her own mind, drowning what little bit of fear had still survived. Warmth flooded her, heat sizzling through her veins, a geysir of something she had no word for roiling at the core of her being.

And then...

And then the contact was broken. Found herself in a tight embrace. His warmth, his smell, everything that was his against her skin. She closed her eyes. Had to. It was too much. Too much. Too new. She wasn't... he wasn't... there was something in it that felt off. Felt good. Yes. But... off. Her skalp prickled. Burned at the touch of his lips. A moment. His whisper in her ears, made her ear tingle. A ripple of warmth, a weird echo of it at the pit of her stomach, spreading from her ear to the rest of her head.

"I can't and I won't let you and...."

One more moment, once more lost in his eyes, the roaring back, the sinking returned, she knew what he felt.

She knew.

He kissed her the same moment she realised what it had all been about. Realised his confusion. And whereas a second ago she would have gladly given anything to continue this ... this... agony, as it now seemed... it no longer was the case. As his thumb touched her lips, she resisted the urge to pull away.

It was all a terrible mistake.

It wasn't her. Reality would sink in, and he'd find he'd been mistaken. She had to save him from himself, from making a worse mistake. He wasn't this... this... thing he'd turned into, this weak and emotional creature too confused to keep past and present apart in his mind.

He'd wake up from it soon enough and feel the disgust. She was what he hated. He could not be allowed to have emotions other than that for her.

Somewhere deep down, receeding further and further into itself, was that other part of herself, the one she'd been moments earlier. She had to find it again, dredge it out, to save herself. Save herself, for she wanted to scream, to cry, to push him away, to cling to him, to kiss him in return. But he was the enemy.

She knew she loved him. Couldn't deny it. But she had to stop this.

Closed her eyes, clutched at straws. Hears his voice in her mind. "... you know you can't leave. You can't go to him. You just can't."

He'd said that. Moments ago. Hadn't meant her, truly. Some phantom of the past. She saw it now, looking into his eyes again. He was haunted by it, and clung to her instead, not realising yet what was at the core of it.

Slowly she was regaining her calm again. No more fear - she knew for the same reason he had kissed her he wasn't going to turn her over to anyone. But instead of fear - there was anger growing in her heart now. Anger at herself, for letting this happen, letting him get so close, but also - anger at him. For telling her she couldn't go somewhere. Not that she would have wanted, but....

... was he jealous?!?

With an effort of will that took a lot more than she would have thought, even then, she pulled away from him, pushed with her hands against his chest.

"Who are you to tell me what I can or can't do?"

It took every bit of resentment she felt to keep up the pretense that she did not care.

[Caran V'al Counis]

He was puzzled at first. They seemed to understand each other implicitly in that one moment where most everything seemed not to budge an inch. When all that there had been was right in front of him, right in front of her. And she rejected it. A wounded, hurt thing filled in his eyes and he couldn't make it leave.

"Fine."

That one word seemed so damning, so chock-full of finality, ushered in by a measure of anger as his thoughts cleared and he knew for certain what it was he wanted, who it was he wanted and he was mistaken on some matter, but she... she...

"Go to him, if you want. But you aren't going alone." He smirked, a completely cruel expression in this context. "Not that you can, in any case, and you very well know it."

And as quickly as that anger had come, it faltered.

"You're right, regardless. I can't stop you." He admitted, feeling weary all of a sudden and steeling himself against the want to just collapse in exhaustion into his chair.

I can't stop you. But you can.

"You have free will, after all." He said, flippantly, and looked away at the final haze of sunset as darkness took hold of this side of the city-planet. "Do as you wish."

[Nya Halcyon]

NM... please delete! Wrong account!

[Aree Ankarta]

But she didn't go anywhere - just yet. No - she simply stood there and stared at him, her eyes raking over him, looking for something, she didn't know what. For a moment there, it had seemed he had recognised his mistake but the words coming out of his mouth still reeked of jealously.

Narrowing her eyes, she glowered at him, crossing her arms over her chest as if that alone could save her now. Who was he to tell her what she was to do or not? She'd not even said anything about going to this meeting Dar had proposed! She'd not even had a chance to think it over, even. And there he was, telling her .... telling her...

Weariness was washing off him in waves and she had to swallow hard to stop herself from feeling concern. Instead, she sought some way out of this, some way to stop this damnable situation... but her mind was a blank.

"You're right, you can't stop me."

She repeated his words, without really knowing why. Stubbornness, maybe. It felt as if she was standing outside her own body, a silent observer to this whole mess of a situation.

She took a step towards him.

"Caran, what... what the shab do you want?!?"

She regretted the question the moment it was out of her mouth. Too direct. Too fraught with possibilities. But questions couldn't be retracted once asked - just ... drowned out...

"Wait a moment, what in haran do you mean with 'I'm not going alone'?!? Are you setting your spies on me???!?"

[Caran V'al Counis]

What do I want?

"I..." But he was drowned out. Did she really want to know or did she not? He knew what he wanted, more than ever, he did now, but she drowned him out then and he hardly cared to stand up to the raised volume of her words until the accusation came and he rolled his head over to her, rolled his eyes up to look on her again.

"No spies, Nya. I'll take you myself." And then he turned his eyes away again, one hand propping up his head, a fist to rest the cheek against as he took in the last dredges of the hazy Coruscant sunset, for what he could see from the vantage point of his office.

"If this really matters to you, really matters just that much..." He sighed, dropping his hand and settling defeatedly into the comfort of the chair, looking away from the ended sunset to the wall behind the desk, then rolled his head back to her. "...I mean, it would be the least I could do."

So long as you see the truth by this.

"Right, then." He said, sitting up suddenly and swiveling the chair around, opening and closing one drawer, retrieving an item and locking the drawer. He paused before going any further, however.

"Now, where is it we're going?"

[Aree Ankarta]

When she came to think of it, she really had no interest in meeting Dar. There wasn't anything she could imagine saying to him. Not anything beyond business. It was bad enough she'd somehow ended up his second in charge of the group of hunters he oversaw. She'd yet to actually figure out what was expected of her in that capacity, but meeting Darven this time wasn't about this - no, from the tone of his message the meeting was of a private nature only, and she really... she wasn't.... well, she didn't think it was a good idea just yet.

But it was becoming clearer and clearer that Caran wasn't giving her a choice. He seemed to consider it his duty to make her go. The odd jealousy he was portraying ... it was endearing in one way, yet in another she knew it was false. But be as it may, it was also making it impossible for her to get out of going now, for she was sure he was going to take any attempt of hers to talk herself out of it as a deception on her part.

"What exactly is your problem!?!"

It had been meant to sound angry, but her words, once uttered, were anything but that. The fight had left her. It was simply a matter of reasoning now. She couldn't shake the sudden thought that bringing him along might have been a blessing in disguise - under different circumstances. If only to allay his odd jealousy... But she had a good idea Dar would not look kindly on her bringing someone else along - but there didn't need to be any more bad blood between them. They had their ghosts, and maybe Dar was correct in wanting them gone sooner rather than later. Which meant.... doing it the Mando way. There was no room for outsiders in that.

The next moment she found herself moving up to him, sensing that nothing but sincerity would get her anywhere with this. Deliberately, this time, she lay her hand on his chest, right over his heart, as her eyes sought his. Her words were nothing but a weak plea.

"I can't take you along. This is Mando business. There are things at stake here.... some things from the past that need to be put to rest... "

She didn't really know how to put it all in words. Maybe at some point she'd explain it all to him, but in order to do that... well... he'd have to lose his FU bias. And not betraying her to the Inq for his suspicions and being able to handle the whole truth - those were still two totally separate things.

For a moment she teetered on the edge of wanting to tell him all, trust him so implicitly as the spiraling emotions inside her wished her to, yet... she couldn't. And that was physically painful. How strange...

Her voice turned into a whisper, "I'll be back, I promise...."