In the Key of Love and Hate, [Dee'ja Peak] Attn: Conner (Closed)

[Lysander Odakota]

Lysander had certainly hoped--in his usual fashion--that his and Constance’s next meeting would be offworld, but he’d also hoped that the circumstances would have been better. The former had happened, but not for the reasons he had been anticipating when he’d first suggested Naboo as a potential location. It had turned out to be perfect in the light of recent events, however, and despite the less than stellar feelings surrounding this meeting, he could not deny its appeal.

There was trouble. He had caught wind of it easily enough, the media having a complete and utter fit with what had gone down on Iridonia. Normally the Jedi Master paid only half a mind to the media, knowing a lot of it was utter tripe and most anything else was propaganda. But this time things had caught his attention and sent him on a run through any an all information on the failed diplomacy talks at the Zabrack homeworld.

Constance had been there. Not only that, but she had somehow managed to end up in the middle of it. How or why she’d been on this particular mission, he didn’t now. But the details weren’t important. All he knew was she had been involved and had been the proclaimed ‘hero’ of the Confederation when things had gone south. That alone had been enough reason for him to worry over her. She wouldn’t have liked the spotlight that this created, nor would she wanted to be a ‘hero’ of anything she despised so much.

Worried about her, he’d done more snooping and it hadn’t been as hard as he’d hoped to find the leaked tapes from the conference room where one High General Villa had apparently completely lost his mind. The resulting shootout and Group Captain Bravil’s resultant injuries had settled the Jedi’s mind--he needed to see for himself that his lover was going to be alright.

He had made contact with her via his Ryder alias shortly after this decision, suggesting a rendezvous on Naboo as they’d briefly discussed previously. Upon receiving a seemingly eager and dare he say desperate reply in the affirmative, it had only made him worry more. For a woman so duty bound, he had no anticipated such eager acceptance of the idea. For some reason he had assumed she would think it important to stay on Dolomar in case she was needed. But apparently he’d been wrong...

He had a bad feeling about this. Plain and simple, he felt like there was more to this than he knew. He didn’t know what it was, specifically, that was setting off this particular feeling, but he knew better than to ignore it. Getting away from his own duties had been easy enough, as he certainly hadn’t given anyone much leeway to tell him no. He had nothing more pressing than Constance at this point, and he could not simply sit back and wait for things to work themselves out on Dolomar.

Renting a room for a few days in the remote location of Dee’ja Peak hadn’t been hard with the connections ‘Ryder’ tended to have in such places. It wasn’t that he was going for opulence specifically, but this place was remote and worth going to. It was a place to get away, and even the hotel he’d landed them in was on the remote skirts of the already remote mountain city. They would be, for all intents and purposes, alone. Whatever she needed that had pressed her onto leaving her duties and her squadron behind, they could get it here.

The room wasn’t exactly as grand as the hotel room had been on Nubia. It was cozier, but no less lacking in quality. If anything, he preferred it here, hoped Constance would too. A balcony opened out over the landscape, nature abounding outside. Lysander imagined finding stars here wouldn’t be hard...

It should have done a lot to calm him, really, but he was having a hard time of it. His normally rather unflappable demeanor was suffering under his worry. He’d had a few days to work up to it now, and despite many of his attempts to assure himself that this was going to be fine he still... well, worried. A lot. He knew his lover to not be in the best of emotional states in general, doubting her own sanity and her own ability to handle everything she did. This on top of it all only seemed like another unbearable weight to drag her to the bottom of the lake she was trying to tread.

He’d gotten here earlier in the day, unable to be sure when she’d show up and wanting to make sure everything was ready for her arrival. He didn’t want her to have anything to worry about that he could prevent. Everything was in order and now he waited, the balcony open to let in some of the fragrant air from outside. It was hard to sit still and enjoy, though. He found himself pacing often. He wanted to work on a solution now, but until he knew the depth of the issues and the details at hand, he could formulate nothing.

Uncharacteristic anxiety had taken a grip on him and he was trying to shake it. He just hoped that his mood wouldn’t make hers any worse. Whatever he was supposed to expect from her, he knew it wasn’t going to be good. He wasn’t sure what made him so positive about that, but he just knew.

The sun was threatening to set behind the mountain city when he forced himself to sit down, eyes closing and a few deep breaths taken. He knew he could handle this, knew he could do damage control for anything. But still... the idea that she was hurting, even now, hurt him. He felt strangely vulnerable with so much up in the air. He tried to focus on the distant sound of the Peak’s waterfall, but even that seemed fleeting over the noise in his mind.

He just hoped she showed up soon. The sooner he could shake this tension, the better. Once he could focus on her, he’d be able to forget himself.

[Constance Bravil]

Running away wasn't like Constance, but damned if that wasn't what she was doing right now. And she didn't give a flying frack if anyone judged her for it. With her mind operating in do-or-die survival mode, she'd seen no other option. Staying on Dolomar would not have ended well for her or anyone else she cared about. Conner had to do this, or she'd fall apart. Messily.

She'd thought she could handle it, suck it up and embrace the pain. For thirteen years she'd managed, dealt with all the murders and lies and betrayals without blinking an eye. But not this time. Not after what had happened on Iridonia, after the events she'd kept strictly off the record. Not after what she'd become. Conner had stared into the abyss and seen herself grinning back at her. Worse than that, she'd let her dark reflection trade places with her, at least for a while. For far too long.

When Lysander had contacted her under his 'Ryder Klivian' guise, offered her a getaway plan, she'd almost wept in gratitude. While she'd figured he'd hear about the whole clusterfrack one way or another, she hadn't anticipated him taking such direct action to support her. Not that she'd doubted he cared about her, of course, but getting away from his white knight duties couldn't be a simple procedure.

Stars knew it hadn't been easy for her to get permission to go on leave. While it had been about a year since her last vacation, and she'd accumulated enough deferred liberty time over the years for three officers, the brass didn't like the idea of their latest 'hero' disappearing from the public eye so soon. The court martial of High General Villa had just finished, and they wanted her around to parade in front of the cameras in order to distract the general public from the whole bloody embarrassing incident. Nor had her direct superiors wanted Renegade One to skip town, since sending out the squadron she'd forged together without their CO would be the height of idiocy.

As for the Renegades themselves... well, Algy was kriffing upset with her over trying to keep the sexual assault a secret--not to mention ready to tear Villa's head off over same. He'd wanted to tell the other vets at least, maybe even the FNGs, but she'd pleaded with him to keep his trap shut. Constance didn't want Paol to know what his old Army buddy had done. Nor did she want him to be the only one who didn't know while the rest of the squadron fumed and plotted Villa's painful demise.

Whether Algernon would stay silent on the matter she didn't know and wouldn't dare try to control. Telling a man old enough to be her great-grandfather what to do about his personal life was a laughable concept. If he decided to take a crack at killing Villa... well, who the frack was she to stand in his way? Force knew she wanted to do far worse to the man. Which is the whole problem, remember?

In the end she'd managed to bully her way off-planet. Conner had pulled out all the stops, called in a bunch of favors, even done her best to convey to Maris how she really needed time to 'recover' from the 'trauma' of being shot by a superior officer. Less than fifteen minutes after she'd been officially placed on administrative leave, she'd been on the Mockingbird and blasting out of Dolomar's gravity well.

The trip to Naboo had given her far too much time to think. Just as she'd done since coming home from the failed mission, she'd tried almost every tactic in her arsenal to alleviate stress. She'd bored herself close to death with paperwork, exercised until she'd been ready to drop, painted instead of slept, meditated when she'd become too disoriented by exhaustion to paint... all for nothing.

What little progress Constance had made in restabilizing her sanity after returning to Dolomar had been dashed to microscopic bits during the court martial. Seeing Villa again, listening to his bluster and threats--and the occasional truth which no one would ever believe about me--had stoked the flames of hatred all the higher. The darkest part of her had practically gotten off on seeing him flail about in a vain effort to defend himself. She'd barely restrained herself from laughing in glee when his sentence had been announced: demotion, incarceration, then transfer to some nothing outpost far from the front lines.

And it hadn't been enough. She still lusted after revenge. She still fantasized about cutting him in a dozen places and letting him slowly bleed to death while she watched. She still wondered if ending his life would be worth risking her cover. That sort of thinking was frinking unacceptable, she knew that dammit, but she couldn't stop wishing and plotting.

So she'd fled to Naboo, removing herself from temptation, hiding from her life. She didn't want the Renegades to see her this way, to find the blackest stains of her poor tattered excuse for a soul. They deserved so much better. Right now, Constance didn't feel herself competent to command them, and unworthy of their loyalty. They looked to her as an example, as a leader, and she deserved neither.

The weary and drawn look on her face drew a few curious glances as the pilot traversed the resort's lobby area towards the bank of turbolifts on the far end. Conner carried a single piece of luggage, a Confederate military issue duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She'd not wanted to waste time packing anything more than the essentials. Her state of dress was all civilian though, as she'd not wanted to draw any unfriendly attention. Last she'd known, the government of Naboo sympathized with the Alliance.

Constance had to force herself not to grit her teeth as she stood in the 'lift car, waiting for various guests at the hotel to enter and exit at what felt like just about every kriffing floor. When they finally arrived at her own level, she'd stalked off at an impatient pace in the direction of the suite the front desk had told her 'Ryder Klivian' had reserved for them both. She knew her lover had already arrived, and right now all she could think about was getting to him.

So hasty was she to enter the room that she managed to swipe the door card through the reader too fast, having to stop and attempt the task again when the security monitor beeped at her in annoyance. Then she was through the door and all but running into the room, dropping her duffel bag as soon as she caught sight of Lysander and heading straight into his arms. Burying her face against his shoulder, not ready to look at him just yet, she locked her own grip around him, a near desperation to hold onto something steady and reliable in her life.

[Lysander Odakota]

A little distracted by his own desire to get his emotional state under control, he noticed the familiar presence that was Constance until she was actually at the door. The annoyed beep of the lock helped to announce her arrival and he was on his feet. For a moment he froze, not sure how to approach her just yet, wondering if he should let her come to him or if he should intercept her in the first step through the doorway.

The choice was ultimately made for him, however, when the door opened on her second attempt and she rushed into the room. He took barely a step of his own before she was in his arms, clinging with a clear amount of desperation. He was quick to take in her aura, to feel how she felt. Frustration, weariness... those seemed strongest to him now and he focused on those.

He returned the lock of the embrace, not ready to let go of her either. If she didn’t want to face him quite yet, he was alright with that. He wasn’t sure he wanted her to see the panic in his eyes very much, either. If he was busy fighting off that anxious feeling he’d not be of much comfort to her. He needed to be the steady one here, be a part of the solution and not the problem.

Something about her emotionally drawn state made him want to sit down. Shifting backwards the step that he’d managed to take away from his seating arrangement, he set back down, taking her with him, making sure he didn’t put her in any awkward positioning. Who knew how long she’d opt to just hold on, and he’d rather her be comfortable for the duration. He pressed his face to her hair as he often tended to do, taking her presence as a small form of comfort for himself. She was here, she hadn’t self destructed yet. This was going to be fine. Not easy, but fine.

Still, it was hard to shake the dire worry in his heart. He wasn’t his usual sedate self, and he didn’t expect he would entirely be such until he had this all sorted out. Whatever was bothering her was bothering her deeply, to the point where surface readings were getting him almost nowhere. She was distraught, but so many shades of emotions were running her right now that he couldn’t pick one to focus on for more than a handful of seconds at a time.

There was no way that single confrontation in the diplomatic talks had caused all of this in her. There had to be something more, something that hadn’t reached the media channels. Had something happened after? Before? During that he didn’t understand? The only way he could possibly know was to ask.

“Talk to me,” he urged. He wanted to ask what had happened, but if that’s not where she wanted to start, he didn’t want to demand it of her. If she just wanted to wax poetic on how distressed she felt, he’d listen to every word until she exhausted herself.

[Constance Bravil]

Stars, but did holding him feel good. A long exhale escaped Constance, the tension in her muscles easing a few degrees. She'd missed him so much. Though these particular circumstances were anything but ideal, being with Lysander again was still a cause for joy. Not that she could manage such a pure and innocent feeling at the moment, but just having him near eased her emotional burden some.

When he stepped back Conner stayed close, unwilling to loosen her grip yet. She followed his lead as he sank down into a nearby chair, ending up in his lap with her knees astride his hips. Unlike all the other times she'd held this position, the spy held not the slightest shred of lust in her heart. She arranged her body that way because she didn't have to loosen her embrace to do so. For these spare selfish seconds, Constance used the Jedi Master as an anchor, relying on him to keep her on a steady course.

Blue Eyes seemed just as reluctant to release her, holding her fast and pressing his face into her hair. For a moment the starfighter pilot wished she possessed the talent of empathy. She wanted to know what he was feeling, wanted to understand why he'd decided to make this time for her on such short notice. Not that she was going to complain or anything... quite the contrary. But right now she felt even more unworthy of him than usual. Conner wanted to know how he could believe her worth the effort and the neglecting of his duties to be with her here and now.

“Talk to me.”

She didn't want to. Talking to him meant going over what had happened, again. She'd had to repeat the story so many kriffing times already: to her superiors, to her squadron, in more detail to Algy in private, to Maris, to the media, to the JAG officers at the court martial. Conner was sick of retracing the same course over and over again for other people's benefit. That said, she knew her lover wouldn't be satisfied with silence. He never was.

Shifting her head, Conner brought her chin to rest atop his shoulder so her words wouldn't be smothered against his chest. "I wasn't even supposed to be there." Her voice came quiet and sad, while her aura vacillated between misery and anger. "My orders were to play chauffeur to a spoiled Senator, that's all. That was demeaning enough, piloting a floundering boat of a shuttle instead of being with my squadron. What a stars-damned waste."

Her hands clenched against his back, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. "But that schutta had to have the very best. And then she decided she liked me, so I got dragged into the whole mess even though I was absolutely positively not in a million light-years qualified for it." The spy restrained a snarl, not wanting to demonstrate such naked fury in front of her lover. "If she'd just left me alone none of it would've happened!"

She spoke of more than the incident at the conference now, but he couldn't know that yet. However, he could read her emotional turmoil, the dark feelings which swept through her aura. "And then that bastard... I should've killed him Lysander. I should've ended him right there!"

[Lysander Odakota]

He knew his lover well enough to know she wouldn’t be eager to talk. She preferred to box up the things that bothered her, not flaunt them for all to see. She’d already had her privacy invaded by the whole fiasco, she surely wouldn’t be looking to explain herself any more than she already had. But Lysander also knew the spy would tell him. She wouldn’t have come if she hadn’t been prepared to face him and his inherent need to help her. And he couldn't help her if he didn’t know what he was working against.

"I wasn't even supposed to be there. [...] What a stars-damned waste."

This set the scene well enough for him. So she’d gone into a mission she’d felt a waste of time, one she’d neither wanted nor needed to do. Being a woman on a very important--and secret--mission meant that these sort of assignments had to be even more frustrating than it might have been for others. And leaving her squadron wasn’t something he imagined she enjoyed. Babysitting senators was something he understood, oddly enough, and he did not envy her for that. Politicians weren’t strictly his favorite either.

He rested his chin against her forehead with her shift in position, his grip on her still firm as he locked his gaze on the decorative artwork across the room from him. He listened carefully and gauged every word along with her emotions.

"But that schutta had to have the very best. [...] If she'd just left me alone none of it would've happened!"

Her hands tightened into his back, the first physical show of aggravation that she’d thrown out there, though he’d felt it on her early on. She was no fan of the Senator. Agraco had made something of a nuisance of herself, it seemed. He had thought there was no love there, from what he’d seen in the footage that had been leaked. A solider like Constance was not bound to think highly of a woman who ducked for cover and wailed when shots were fired. And the fact that Constance had proclaimed she’d done what she’d done for the Confederation over the Senator... well, that said something to him that hadn’t rang clearly to the clueless politician.

There was a barely contained fury in this explanation, but as much as the Alliance spy hated the Nubian Senator, it didn’t seem that that was the direction the anger was directed. It started there but ended somewhere else, somewhere that seemed to justify this turmoil. He tried to make the connection on his own but the details were still too few for him to do so.

"And then that bastard... I should've killed him Lysander. I should've ended him right there!"

There was more to this--much more--than Lysander could currently comprehend. There was such a darkness to her suddenly, a color that seemed familiar to her in a way that he did not like. Alarmed by her clear hate, his steely blue eyes narrowed at the spot on the wall he’d chosen to settle his sharp gaze on. The ‘he’ she mentioned was not specified, but he could only guess it was the High General. He knew in passing that she’d had issues with someone of the same rank in the past, but whether or not it was Villa he couldn’t be positive...

But given the feelings here, it seemed like there was history. Much as she hated the Confederation, she wouldn’t have compromised herself with such feelings without a buildup. Worried by her reaction here, and confused as to why she would feel this way, he had to question her.

“The General?” he inquired by way of clarification. He didn’t like floundering under these assumptions he was being forced into. “What did he do?” That might have seemed like an odd question, given everyone knew what he’d done in threatening Senator Agraco and then turning on those who had arrested him. But that wasn’t what he was asking about. That wasn’t enough to have the woman Lysander now held gearing for blood.

That anxious feeling in his chest wasn’t subsiding like he wanted it to and Lysander fought to ignore it. He reminded himself--again--that she was here and he would do what he must to fix this.

[Constance Bravil]

“The General?”

Conner forced her head to nod, not trusting herself to actually speak. She didn't want to give any response, really, but with an empath trying to hide such a simple truth would be pointless. No doubt he could just look or scan or whatever he did with the Force and notice the emotional response the mention of Villa inspired in her. Constance didn't like it, didn't want it, wished she could avoid it, but she didn't expect to escape it. Nosy Jedi were nigh impossible to thwart when they wanted to find something out.

“What did he do?”

Frack it all to slag, why did he have to ask? Sure, she figured he would, but couldn't he tell she didn't want to talk about it? Stars above, she'd rather take a walk in vacuum without a pressure suit than explain what she'd been through to Lysander. Explaining just part of it to Trigger had felt like crawling through a field of broken vibroblades. But he wasn't telepathic; he hadn't been able to tell she'd been holding the most awful part back.

With an abrupt jerk she pulled away from her lover, moving to break free of his grasp. He resisted to a degree, but he didn't restrain her like she knew he could. Pushing back onto her feet she walked away, her agitation vibrating dissonantly in her aura. "I'm betting real credits you saw what happened. Frack, half the damned galaxy saw what happened." She'd been almost painfully aware of how far the story of the debacle at Iridonia had spread. Part of her had approved of the efficiency with which the Alliance had spread the story; the rest had cringed way from the increased publicity she'd been subjected to.

Nausea roiled in her gut. "You're a wise and wonderful man, Blue Eyes. But there's some things you don't understand." Arms folded across her chest, hugging herself in a defensive stance as she paced across the room. "I don't want you to ever understand them. I like you the way you are, and knowing some of what I know, feeling what I feel... it would change you, and not for the better."

Yeah, she accepted she probably wasn't making any sense to him, but tackling the subject straight on didn't work. Not after Conner had gone to such effort to try and avoid thinking about it. Even now she wanted to protect him from some of the reality of her world. The spy didn't do this out of condescension but out of caring. Constance never wanted to see Lysander taint himself like she had. "So trust me when I say... you don't want to know what he did, Lysander. And if you value your own sanity you'll drop the subject."

A shaky laugh came from her then. "But you won't drop it, will you? You never do." One arm unfolded so she could rub fingers over her face. "Such a stubborn man. A Jedi ought to know better." Much as she appreciated his determination, right now she almost wished he were weaker willed. Telling him the truth would hurt them both... or at least she believed it would. She knew it would mess with her mind, and while Lysander had been trained to withstand negative emotions, surely hearing the story she had to tell wouldn't leave him unaffected.

Her stalking back and forth had brought her to a side table on the west wall. Constance lashed out without warning, her fist connecting with the porcelain vase sitting innocently upon its surface, smashing it against the wall. The pieces of pottery chimed as they fell to the floor. The pilot watched them fall, her body coiled tight as a twisted spring. "I tried to warn you, dammit. I told you what I could be like. You didn't believe me, but you should have."

[Lysander Odakota]

Oh yes, definitely the General she was talking about here. Even without her nod of confirmation, he could have figured it out. She was positively sparking with negative energy at the mere mention of the rank. Were she capable of burning with indirect hatred, Lysander would not have dared touch her. As it was, he didn’t really want to let her go. The part of him that feared losing her grasped to the concept that keeping her close would keep her safe in a way letting her go would lack.

Seemed she felt differently, though, and with an abrupt and uncompromising movement she was away from him. Much as he didn’t want to let go, he didn’t hold her back with any amount of force. He could have pinned her to her spot, but that would have done nothing but make her angry. Hands settling reluctantly at his own sides, he let her deprive him of the touch he felt they both currently could stand to maintain. Agitated and harassed, she walked away and he turned his gaze on her, though it lacked some of its usual intensity in his unsurety.

"I'm betting real credits you saw what happened. Frack, half the damned galaxy saw what happened."

He nodded, knowing she already had her answer without his having to actually confirm. It was a hesitant confirmation on his part, anyways, as she clearly didn’t like the idea that he’d seen, or anyone else for that matter. It had to go against everything the spy was to be out in the public eye like that. He just hoped that for her sake this all went away very quickly. News came and went rather rapidly in the galaxy. But that didn’t make the coverage any less potent in its potential for harm. If they’d really respected this ‘hero,’ they would have left her alone.

"You're a wise and wonderful man, Blue Eyes. But there's some things you don't understand. [...] it would change you, and not for the better."

Confused still, but wanting to wait patiently for the explanation he was sure had to be coming, Lysander tilted his head ever so slightly as he studied her pacing form. He understood that there were things he didn’t understand. No one could understand everything, and he had a different point of view than most. Things that were commonplace or normal to the average sentient being often seemed foreign to him. His upbringing was peculiar at best.

But to what exactly she referred, he wasn’t sure, and that stuck him in the mire of bewilderment even further. He wished she would--or even could--be clearer, but she was in no state for it. It was something she clearly felt she understood in a way he never would. Given her emotional state, he wondered if that was a big part of it. Compared to her, he was ignorant when it came to such volatile moments. Perhaps not as ignorant as she sometimes, thought, but still very much not on the same levels of feeling as she.

"So trust me when I say... you don't want to know what he did, Lysander. And if you value your own sanity you'll drop the subject."

Anxious feelings peaked in him again, surpassing confusion once more. He didn’t want to know? That was never a particularly good phrase, and the fact that he believed her made it all the worse. Maybe he didn’t want to know... but at the same time, that only made it all the more necessary for him to find out. He didn’t want Constance harboring whatever this was all too herself.

And besides, it wasn’t his own sanity that concerned him. It was hers. He could handle himself, he was sure. He needed her to share this burden before it broke her completely. He would have told her this, but she preempted him as she often did these days, knowing him better and better with every day they spent together.

"But you won't drop it, will you? You never do. Such a stubborn man. A Jedi ought to know better."

A frown marred his featured further, darkening an already sober visage. What was she getting at? Clearly he wasn’t going to let it go and she had deemed as much a fact. The stalling bothered him even though he knew she wasn’t doing it necessarily on purpose. The subject at hand was not one she wanted to discuss, so biting the bullet and going for it was nothing to be jumping at. But his patience for waiting did not apparently extend to this. He already had enough emotions in him right now to fight with, he couldn’t very well keep the smallest of impulses under control in the face of that.

He wondered what he was getting himself into, but still he had no hesitation in finding out what she was so worked up over. To walk away from this conversation now would only be a source of tension. Even if it was going to hurt, the air needed to be cleared.

Tightly wound as he was, it took what little careful control he had left to not jump when she crashed a fist into the vase. Distress still clear in his eyes, he forced some of the tension out of his body and got to his feet. A few paces closed some of the distance between them, but certainly not all. He hadn’t thought about getting up, but it had seemed a natural reaction to him, her outward violence putting his action oriented mind to work.

"I tried to warn you, dammit. I told you what I could be like. You didn't believe me, but you should have."

Stopped stark still again, he watched her carefully, caution keeping him there even while another part of him begged to just be able to comfort her. Perplexment at her statements continued to assail him and he found himself frustrated despite his determination to not let that happen. Her emotional state was getting to him, but he was in no condition to be shutting himself off from her right now. He didn’t have the control he typically enjoyed. He was too intune with her, too focused on caring and trying to clarify what was going on.

“Why should I have?” Another question, genuine in its tumult. He could only urge her to speak, to explain, so lost in this that he couldn't even create a direct and searching question. He wanted to explain that he didn’t understand any of this right now, but he didn’t want to sound like he was accusing her of keeping him in the dark. It was obvious she was trying despite not wanting to.

“What did you do?” he asked, the question a touch desperate. He had come to that much of a conclusion. She’d done something that had her shaken, on top of whatever had gone down on the other party’s part. She was talking herself down again, with more fervor than ever burning bright. No sweet words seemed right right now, no reassurances that she was good in his eyes. Much as her anger was being thrown outward, a lot of it was being kept internal as well.

[Constance Bravil]

Constance saw the Jedi Master approach in her peripheral vision. Part of her braced against any attempt to take a hold of her again, but Lysander instead chose to stop far short of being in reach. A sliver of her psyche wondered what that restraint cost him. The man never liked letting her go when she was upset. Did he know through his telepathy she couldn't stand being touched right now, too filled with wrath and bile to enjoy the contact? Or did he just know her well enough to understand she didn't go for distance unless she felt she needed it?

“Why should I have?”

Because you'd be safer then. The undercover agent understood who and what she was. She had accepted the consequences of her actions when she'd accepted this assignment. Her soul was damned, there was no escaping the fact. But over the years she'd decided that no matter what else happened, she refused to drag those she cared about down into the same pit she'd thrown herself into. Not the Renegades, not Lysander... never them. She'd sacrifice everything else before she condemned them.

“What did you do?”

Stars, how well he knows me. The way his voice sounded when he asked the question gave her some pause. Lysander almost sounded... pleading? Conner had never seen him beg, but this was the closest she'd seen him come. Only back during that horrible argument they'd had when he'd first told her he loved her had he been so needful of answers. Much as Constance wanted to keep the truth from him, the last thing she wanted was to repeat the same mistake again. Or to risk him doing the same, for that matter.

"The first night there, they held a reception." Unclenching her right hand, the pilot gazed down at it. A small cut traversed the knuckle of her middle finger. As Conner watched, a thin crimson line of blood welled up from the laceration. She didn't even feel the pain. Too much of her mind was occupied elsewhere. "Miserably boring affair. The High General was ordered to escort me there by the damned Senator. She thought I provided a good example." The last words were practically sneered out, rich with the irony Agraco would never know existed.

"Villa got drunk, and I mean stupid fracking drunk. As in threatening the Senator with bodily harm levels of smashed. If I hadn't intervened she probably would've gotten stabbed. So I had the pleasure of escorting the bastard back to his quarters before he made a further ass of himself." Lifting her hand to her face, Conner sucked on the cut to prevent any blood from dripping from her finger. Stars knew she'd spilled enough already in her life.

"Took me a couple of hours to wind down enough to try to sleep. And wouldn't you know it, right when I was headed for bed, he showed up again." Constance turned her head to face him, strain drawing her pale features into sharp lines and angles. "He commented on how my sleepwear wasn't standard issue." Her right hand clenched, falling back down to hang at her side. "And how he'd like to see me out of it."

Again her fury flared, her cheeks flushed and heart pounding from the emotion. But she had no one to lash out at; the reason for her rage wasn't present. "I don't know where he got the idea I'd so much as want to touch him, and I wasted no time in telling him off." Temper clawed like a wild animal in her gut, screaming to be let free. She kept it restrained only because she cared about the man she stared at so damned much.

Her tongue came out to wet suddenly dry lips. "But he wouldn't take no for an answer." The urge to retch swelled in her stomach again, but with an effort of will she forced it down. She did the same with the wish to look away from her lover. Constance refused to be so much a coward as to hide from his steel blue stare now. Whatever his eyes contained as she told her terrible tale, she needed to know.

"Before I knew it he had me beneath him on the ground, and his hand..." She did snarl then, much as she hated showing such an expression in front of her lover. The emotion wasn't meant for him, and she hoped he understood that. "I couldn't get him off me. Not at first. I had to wait while..." Nothing in the galaxy could convince her she needed to go into detail about what she'd had to wait through.

[Lysander Odakota]

"The first night there, they held a reception. [...] She thought I provided a good example."

Despite how averse she was to the concept of explaining this, she was humoring him, and he appreciated it more than he could tell her right now. This whole thing was costing them both, but it would have only been made worse if she’d opted to hold out on him for long. She’d not started her tale in the middle of whatever disaster she was building up to--he assumed it was a disaster because the anticipating levels were rather horrible right now--but had started in relatively neutral ground. The premise did not sound promising.

It seemed this Senator really was an indirect issue. Her meddling seemed to have set the whole thing up, and if he’d thought it possible he’d wonder if the Nubian woman had orchestrated it all. Of course, that was simply not the case as there was no reason for it, but... still. Agraco had had a hand in chaos, and to free her of the blame despite her ignorance seemed foolish. Despite himself, Lysander felt a touch of ire for the woman he’d never met.

"Villa got drunk, and I mean stupid fracking drunk. [...] So I had the pleasure of escorting the bastard back to his quarters before he made a further ass of himself."

Count on Constance to stick up and protect two people she hated from each other. He doubted it was the first time she’d done such a thing, and also doubted it would be the last. He wondered how much that burned her, not really understanding the feeling himself. He’d never been in her position to that extreme. While he’d saved people before that he didn’t necessarily like, that was a far cry from what she was forced to do so often to save face.

"Took me a couple of hours to wind down enough to try to sleep. [...] And how he'd like to see me out of it."

Some of the anxiety in him finally died at this particular revelation, pieces starting to become clearer to him, though there were still many left blank and open. However, with some of that trepidation gone, there was room left for other negatives to take its spot. Blue eyes narrowed and darkened at the implication of where this might be going. He did not want to jump to any conclusions, but he doubted such a passing--though disturbing--comment would have her in such a frame of mind.

"I don't know where he got the idea I'd so much as want to touch him, and I wasted no time in telling him off. But he wouldn't take no for an answer."

His apprehension transformed further still, a potentially disturbing light filtering into that gunmetal stare. Hard as the Jedi tended to be to read, even for Constance, right now he wasn’t much of a mystery. He knew the one thing that could really be implied by ‘not taking no for an answer.’ Men who reacted that way to rejection... they did not take good paths.

Much as he knew Constance was a big girl who could handle herself better than most, this was one clear instant where he wished he could have been there himself. His need to protect this woman surmounted all reason and he knew he would have done something rash had he been privy to this scene at the time. Even now he knew Constance was right in some ways. He didn’t particularly want to hear this, would have been better off being ignorant... but then he couldn’t have helped her, and he would have none of that.

He continued to meet her eyes, knowing that it was hard, much as if he felt the sensation as his own. What was it that wanted to force her eyes away, though? It wasn’t shame, he didn’t think. Not in the way some might have expected from a victim of what she was implying. This wasn’t a pity party.

"Before I knew it he had me beneath him on the ground, and his hand... I couldn't get him off me. Not at first. I had to wait while..."

She didn’t have to explain. He didn’t want her to explain. She’d said enough to paint an officially clear picture for the Guardian. He was not even close enough to being sheltered to not recognize attempted rape and flagrant sexual assault when he was given even these barest hints. And even without the details, it felt like too much. No wonder she’d bucked against having to explain this. He wondered if she’d even so much as told anyone else. Why did he get the feeling she hadn’t?

He wasn’t sure if it was his own genuine feeling or if he was feeding off of Constance’s mood, but the idea that someone had done this to her... It fueled a fire in him that was usually kept snuffed purposefully out. He didn’t even know the bastard and the anger he felt seemed inexplicable in that light. For a brief second, he found himself agreeing with her, that she should have taken care of him when she’d had the chance. He was clearly a threat, and a personal one to Constance at that...

A temper Constance had not previously been privy to lit in the man’s eyes. It was a good thing they weren’t on Dolomar, he decided, or he might have really marched out the door right then with intention do something rash and distinctly un-Jedi like. He saw a lot of injustice in the galaxy, but to have it pointed so directly at the woman he damn well loved...

He released a slight and slow hiss between his teeth, forcing the more impetuous side of himself back down with a strong force of will. “You sure the sentence he was given at that trial was enough? I could find a more permanent solution to keep him away...” He tried to keep his tone light, like he was joking--which he wanted to be, but he knew himself better than that--but the slight growl belied the potential for fury in his chest. He didn’t like it and doubted she’d love it either.

And what was odd, there seemed to be more to this story, and yet he couldn’t imagine it getting all much worse. Her statement of ‘waiting for a while’ seemed to imply that she had eventually made a move, but what more could she possibly add? Still, there had been no actual answer to his question. She still had yet to admit to doing anything dire.

[Constance Bravil]

With each infuriated sentence Conner spoke, the confusion in Lysander's expression faded out. He was a smart man; he could connect the dots without any help. In short order, she witnessed the exact instant her lover realized where this conversation was going. What she saw flare to life in those intense blue eyes next made her insides twist up into painful knots. Not out of fear; she knew that naked display of very un-Jedi emotion wasn't meant for her. No, out of something far worse: guilt.

I warned him; I've always kept warning him away. Why doesn't he ever listen to me when I do? Why can't he just accept there's good reasons behind it? And she hadn't even gotten to the worst part yet, the part she'd tried to guard him against the longest.

Constance found new reason to want to look away from her lover. Stars above, he was actually angry!. Downright furious even. Either he didn't care to hide it or he couldn't, but either way, it shone as bright and hot in his eyes as a nuclear blast. Even without being empathic she could practically feel waves of psychic heat rolling off him. Soon enough he tried to suppress the feeling, reign in his temper... but she'd seen it, and the spy cursed the Force for putting her in the position to fracture a Jedi's calm.

“You sure the sentence he was given at that trial was enough? I could find a more permanent solution to keep him away...”

With a speed born from a sudden surge of panic, Constance rushed over and took ahold of Lysander's upper arms. "...don't you dare. Do you hear me?" Her grip tightened, the pilot resisting the urge to attempt literally shaking sense into the man. "Don't. You. Dare! You're a Jedi Master, for frack's sake! Vengeance goes against everything you believe in! You're better than that." Better than me. Her voice broke, words slicing up her throat like razor blades. "I won't have you sully yourself for me, not now, not ever!"

Not wanting to take the chance of him holding her fast, she stepped away out of reach again. Constance looked down at her hands, her gaze condemning them for getting grimy fingerprints all over something good and pure. "I told you... there are things I don't want you to ever understand." Misery shouldered anger aside. Pain resonated in her tone now. "I don't want you to be like me, Lysander. I don't want you to know..."

But he'd have to know, no avoiding it now. She'd made him a promise not to try to drive him away again, not to hide the truth in an attempt to protect him. Constance kept her promises, even when it killed a part of her soul to do so. The dark-haired woman lifted her gaze back to his, her pupils dilated so wide you could barely make out the thin ring of silver around the black. "I had one of his own blasters pressed to his throat and threatened to pull the trigger. The bastard looked up at me and declared I wouldn't do it."

Her fingers clenched tight, knuckles going white, nails digging into her palm. Again she did not notice the pain. "I lost it. I... I started telling him all about how I could get away with his murder in the same tone sane people use to discuss the local weather. Asked him about his family's burial rituals..." A choked sound that might've been an attempt at a laugh or the stifling of a sob interrupted her explanation. "I wanted him afraid of me. I needed him to be afraid of me."

Constance tensed her shoulders against a shudder. "And then I wanted to hurt him. So I did. And I enjoyed it. Stars above, it was fun to torment him. Seeing the terror and pain in his eyes made me feel so... strong. So in control." One hand moved to cover her mouth briefly as her stomach threatened to revolt on her again. "Only my mission prevented me from keeping it up longer, going even further than cracking a few ribs and endangering his ability to father children."

Both hands raked through her hair, part out of frustration and part out of wanting to hide how they shook. "I've done horrible things, Lysander. I kill my own people. I lie to those who trust me with their lives. But never before, not once, had I sunk to the level of my enemies." The exhausted shadows beneath her eyes stood out in starker contrast as her complexion paled further. She felt the shock and disorientation again, unable to help it after reliving that night in her mind. Nothing in her reality made complete sense anymore. "I've become what I hate. I'm so ashamed..."

[Lysander Odakota]

"...don't you dare. Do you hear me?"

It was an interesting turn of roles, even if it was only going to last a moment. Normally it was him forcing her down off an emotional track that wasn’t right for her. Normally it was her tensing under his touch. But now it was him, his back tightening responsively, eyes narrowing in a sense of frustration that was directed back towards himself.

He wanted to ask why not, wanted to demand why he couldn’t, though he already knew why. He said nothing, though, eyes locked with hers as he continued to stand on top of his own darker impulses, keeping them down. He wouldn’t let that control him, much as he sort’ve wanted to...

"Don't. You. Dare! [...] I won't have you sully yourself for me, not now, not ever!"

She was right, of course. He couldn’t go off and kill a man for these reasons and remain what he was. It was too easy to step off the narrow path the Jedi tread, and getting back on was always a fight. He knew his weaknesses, knew where he might bend. This just happened to be one of those weak spots, and it had been struck upon without much warning so he’d not been prepared.

Still, no one would have missed Villa. Killing him would have been justice. More revenge, yes, but still... justice. He wanted to justify it like that, wanted to eliminate this true enemy under the guise of duty when anyone with half a mind would have known it was all too personal.

Blue eyes shut tight for a second, a brief shake of his head trying to clear these ponderings. The guilt he could feel on Constance bothered him, was something he didn’t want to cause. The only problem was he hated her hatred more. He wanted to get rid of that source. Sucking in a deep breath, he forced himself to look at her again, at her desperation to stop him from doing something they’d both regret.

"I told you... there are things I don't want you to ever understand. I don't want you to be like me, Lysander. I don't want you to know..."

She stepped away, her point made and seemingly not wanting to stay close for her own sake still. He regretted that distance immediately, feeling like he’d somehow helped in upsetting her so completely. Clearly she was worried about hurting him in some way, and it seemed he’d only validated her worries by reacting as he had. He felt something of an idiot now, having been so worried about his anxiety getting in the way of repair that he’d gone and let his temper sneak up on him for the first time in a long time.

Some of that trepidation snuck back into him with the segue she used into more of her story. She didn’t want him to know, but she was going to say it anyways. And the fact that the last was apparently the worst...

"I had one of his own blasters pressed to his throat and threatened to pull the trigger. The bastard looked up at me and declared I wouldn't do it."

She’d turned the tides somehow, then, found an upper hand on her attacker. This he approved of. He approved of her strength in the face of something that many women would have surrendered to. It wasn’t just her being a solider that had given her that edge, he felt, but a pure sense of who she was. Her strength defined her in the face of unspeakable horrors.

"I lost it. [...] I wanted him afraid of me. I needed him to be afraid of me."

Fear was not a tactic Jedi used. Fear was a dark thing, leading to so much worse. Fear was effective, but it wasn’t something the Guardian could simply ignore the use of. If he’d been there, he’d certainly have stopped her from taking that path herself. While she wasn’t a Jedi and he didn’t expect her to be, inflicting terror on purpose would make her someone she was not.

Or at least someone she didn’t want to be. It seemed she had crossed that line. As a result, did he dare say she’d made her afraid of herself? Her sense of self horror was so strong that it felt almost like a physical pain against his empathy. He wanted to hold her again but resisted.

"And then I wanted to hurt him. So I did. [...] Only my mission prevented me from keeping it up longer, going even further than cracking a few ribs and endangering his ability to father children."

And there was another step on that path that Lysander’s sort avoided with such fervor. Pain was another taboo for them, torture practically considered worse than killing someone quick and painless. While Lysander could not find it in himself to condemn the woman for her actions, he couldn’t condone them any better. He found himself wishing she hadn’t done it even while knowing exactly why she had.

He couldn’t actually imagine this particular scene, couldn’t fathom her letting herself go so far. She was usually in such careful control, the idea of her slipping into this particular abyss, even for a short time disturbed him more than he would be willing to admit to her. Did it drive him from her? No, and it wasn’t bound to, but did make him wonder if there actually was anything he could do for her. He felt somewhat helpless in the face of it.

"I've done horrible things, Lysander. [...] I've become what I hate. I'm so ashamed..."

And there it was, the hook he knew he could use to find some hope where she saw none. Stepping closer but stopping again, clearly wanting to hold her but wary of upsetting her by any percievement of restraint, he studied her, a drawn look of his own in his eyes. “You aren’t quite there,” he told her. “Your enemies don’t have it in them to be ashamed.”

Which was true. He would have been completely astounded if Villa had been ashamed in any sense for what he’d done. If anything, he’d bet the bastard reveled in it. He had to fight down another bite of fury at that thought, had to focus on helping as opposed to getting obsessed with something he shouldn’t have even considered.

But what else could he say after that? He refused to patronize and refused to treat her like a student. She was his equal and while they both understood what she’d done was wrong, he didn’t want her thinking that he thought her a lost cause.

“He pushed you and you pushed back. Neither of you did good things, but he is far less a victim than you.” That reeked of payback, but right now he still thought the General had deserved more than what he’d gotten. “I can’t condone what you did,” he admittedly blatantly. “No more than I can condone my own reaction to his actions.” He wanted it clear that he wasn’t perfect and if she even so much as tried that on him right now it wouldn’t work.

“Just... Force, Constance, you’re driving yourself mad over this, aren’t you?” He knew very well she’d been doing exactly that, now. He wasn’t confused anymore, but he was still on edge. Most of his usual optimism was hiding in the face of his other emotions and he was trying very hard to coax it back out. They needed some hope here, but finding those words in this mire was almost dangerous.

[Constance Bravil]

“You aren’t quite there. Your enemies don’t have it in them to be ashamed.”

A point of fact, one even someone so distraught as she could not ignore. No, those Angler sought to destroy didn't possess any emotions resembling shame or guilt. They didn't care who they hurt in the process of getting what they wanted. Villa sure as the nine hells hadn't cared about doing damage to her. Frack, knowing him, the idea of causing her pain had probably primed his pump in the first place. But Angler had shown him, taught him exactly how it felt to be the helpless victim of a sadistic predator...

Dammit, no! Constance flung her darkest self back to the furthest reaches of her conscious mind. She had to stop thinking like this! Dwelling on past wrongs and dreaming of future retaliations would get her nowhere but into the abyss again. The fear of giving into her madness remained stronger than her desire to indulge in it, thank the stars. Between that and her strength of will she could keep control, at least for now.

“He pushed you and you pushed back. Neither of you did good things, but he is far less a victim than you.”

Conner hastened to nod in acceptance of Lysander's words. Oh, she'd never forgotten that, and she didn't want her lover to worry Constance somehow thought herself responsible for the assault. Not even in the greatest depths of her despair over the past few weeks had she ever misplaced any iota of fault in this department. She bore no blame for Villa's attempt to rape her. She'd made her loathing of him clear as crystal from day one. You would've had to be blind, deaf, and brain-dead to not recognize her rejection of his advances for what it was. He'd forced her to the ground and violated her body, and for that she hoped he burned for all eternity.

“I can’t condone what you did. No more than I can condone my own reaction to his actions.”

She'd expected as much, and in truth the spy wouldn't have been able to accept anything else. "I don't want you to," she managed, wrapping her arms across her chest in a futile effort to ward off a chill. "I can't condone what I did. I've never doubted my actions were wrong." Conner clung to this small life preserver of morality amidst a sea of self-condemnations. Much as she still felt the (extremely strong) temptation to repeat her mistakes, she knew them to be mistakes in the first place. Surely she couldn't be completely beyond redemption so long as she remembered that?

As far as Lysander's reactions went... "I never wanted to see you like that, Blue Eyes. To make you feel that way." She took a step closer, arms falling back down to her sides, wanting to cut off his expected protest at the pass. "I know, I know... you weren't mad at me, never even crossed my mind." A little more distance between them disappeared. "And it's not that I don't appreciate you being protective of me, it's actually very sweet, and I wasn't so stupid as to think you wouldn't feel something..."

Back within touching distance, the spy lifted a hand towards the Jedi Master's head. Fingertips found the side of Lysander's face, stroking down his cheek with a delicate touch normally reserved for the most rare and fragile objects. A strange thing, really, considering she was the one who felt so very breakable right now.

"Please." The word came out hoarse, forcing Conner to swallow in order to smooth out her throat. "Promise you won't do anything, Lysander." Wide gray eyes begged him to accept. "The thought of you giving into..." She shook her head sharply, dark curls springing against her shoulders, not even wanting to give voice to the possibility. "I don't know if I could live with myself if you did that. I need you... and I need you to stay you. Promise me."

“Just... Force, Constance, you’re driving yourself mad over this, aren’t you?”

For a moment the pilot thought about making another joke about her lover's propensity for understatements, but her heart wasn't up for making light. "Yes." She dropped her fingers away from his face, her gaze shifting away from his eyes and towards the open balcony doors behind him. Not that she really saw them; her brain didn't have the processing power to spare for interpreting visual input.

Part of her wanted so much to latch onto Lysander again, burrow into his warmth and hide from the universe outside the two of them. The rest had a hard time stomaching the thought of his kindness and affection when she'd proved so wretched a person. "I tried to handle it. But the situation kept getting worse. I had to keep dealing with him, and every minute I spent in his presence I had to battle the monster in my head for control."

Constance shifted away a bit, turning to one side so he faced her profile, but she didn't withdraw out of arm's reach again. Leaving his immediate vicinity completely was a feat beyond her damaged willpower at the moment. Too much of her longed for his reassurance, even though she felt herself unworthy of his concern. "I could've killed him in that conference room. Maybe I should have. I don't know anymore. It cost me so much to exercise restraint... and I got shot for my trouble." A small huff of dark amusement escaped her lips. "Figures."

The brief flicker of humor in her eyes fled, replaced by dark rage. "I've kept myself from doing anything more than rubbing his face in the fact he fracked up since then... but whenever I see him my hands itch to close around his throat. I catch myself fantasizing about assassinating him every damned day. I can't do it, won't risk my cover after all the hell I've been through to maintain it... but Force help me, I wish I could. First I want to hear him scream and beg, and then I want to end him."

She turned back towards him, the horror in her heart swelling up again and drowning out the hate. "Stars, listen to me! I'm so scared, Lysander, scared of myself and what I'm capable of. Remembering what happened makes me sick inside. I've not just lost perspective, I've lost my kriffing mind. I can't... I can't do my job like this." Admitting this tore her up inside, but she had to accept the truth. She had no business being in the cockpit of so much as a landspeeder right now.

[Lysander Odakota]

"I don't want you to. I can't condone what I did. I've never doubted my actions were wrong."

That fact alone really gave Lysander all the hope he needed to start building a foundation under himself. As long as she maintained that bit of what made her good, she was still redeemable. If she’d lost that... Well, to be honest, he didn’t want to think that about. Even venturing into the thoughts of what that would cost them both was too painful right now to dwell on. He didn’t think it would come to that, trusted she would maintain enough grace for him to respect her like he did.

Without her conscience, she wouldn’t be the woman he knew. While he knew that people could in fact change that drastically given the right stimulus, he wouldn’t let that happen to her. He was here to enforce what they both knew was right.

"I never wanted to see you like that, Blue Eyes. [...] And it's not that I don't appreciate you being protective of me, it's actually very sweet, and I wasn't so stupid as to think you wouldn't feel something..."

She was drawing closer, something he took as a good sign. In her efforts to address his issues, she wasn’t holding back on him. For a moment, she wasn’t thinking about herself and her actions, but more about how it was affecting him, and while he didn’t want her thinking she was guilty for his behaviour, he was glad that she was able to redirect her focus. That meant she wasn’t so stuck on herself and her internal problems that she couldn’t step back to see reason.

And for a moment, he had to stop thinking about her specifically and focus on himself in turn. No, she was right, she shouldn’t have had to see him like that, even for an instant. He felt a flutter of doubt in himself that he instantly brushed aside. He didn’t need that, he needed to fix it. His anger helped no one. And even if killing Villa would rid Constance of the temptation of doing it herself...

The hand against his face stopped those thoughts, the pleading in her eyes told him that he’d just hurt her in a different way if he saved her from her want for vengeance in that method.

"Please. [...] Promise me."

That sealed it. He couldn’t say no to her on that, couldn’t deny her that genuine need for him to do as she asked. “I promise,” he assured her without hesitation. And like that, it grounded him. Where his knowledge that it was a bad course to take had not been able to keep his mind wandering that path, a promise to his lover made it almost easy. Apparently his loyalty to her was far stronger than that to himself in the face of such infuriating evidence. “Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t need to add to her list of stressors.

"I tried to handle it. But the situation kept getting worse. I had to keep dealing with him, and every minute I spent in his presence I had to battle the monster in my head for control."

She had moved away, but not so far that she was out of reach. It seemed now that she had all the horrible details of her sins out of the way she could stand the proximity. He hoped she hadn’t assumed in any way that he might condemn her. She was clearly condemning herself enough for both of them, and he’d prefer she not even do that.

He understood the issue she was describing, though. The whole mission sounded like it had been one bad thing after another. Maybe if one bad instant had happened without all the lead up, she might have kept her sanity. As it was, she had fractured under the continuous pressure. Eventually something had been bound to give when the issues hadn’t let up. No wonder she’d been so mad at the Senator, this whole thing would have been so easily avoided.

"I could've killed him in that conference room. [...] Figures."

She could have, she was right on that. But how much High Command would have liked the High General ending up dead was debatable. Much as they were running the man over coals now, killing a superior officer never looked particularly good. She had taken the right action in simply disabling him, but in hindsight going for the kill might have made her life easier if she’d gotten off clean. Too many variables to be sure, though.

He felt a flutter of concern again at the idea of her getting shot. Though the wounding hadn’t looked horribly serious based on the recordings he’d seen, the idea of her getting hurt like that bothered the Jedi. He knew it had happened before to her, and would happen again. That didn’t mean he had to like it. He knew she was healed by now, but he’d never be able to simply shrug off the fact that she’d been wounded while doing her job in a conference room. It just seemed all the more wrong that it’d come from a ‘friendly’ source. He remembered seeing the vid the first time and just about having a heart attack until he’d noted she had taken the hit well.

"I've kept myself from doing anything more than rubbing his face in the fact he fracked up since then... [...] First I want to hear him scream and beg, and then I want to end him."

Having already heard her express desire to eliminate the man, Lysander wasn’t surprised by her words. That said, they still disturbed him a touch. That desire was beneath her, and they both knew it. She had to overcome it or it might very well consume her. While she wouldn’t bring herself to action, it was too easy to become engrossed in fantasy and dark desires. It was a rut, ultimately. He didn’t want to see her stuck there. The hate didn’t suit her.

"Stars, listen to me! [...] I can't... I can't do my job like this."

Unable to hold himself back any longer--and not believing at all that she ultimately wanted him away anyways--he stepped in close to the woman who had turned back to him and wrapped her in a hug. For a moment he just held her, and then he spoke. “No, you can’t,” he agreed. It only seemed to emphasize his desire to just take her away from it all permanently, but he knew better still. That wasn’t his place to go demanding that.

“But that’s why you’re here. To get away from all of that, forget about it for a little while, work through it in the moments when you feel up to it with someone who wants to help.” Someone who knew what she’d gone through. It seemed very clear to him that he had to be the only one with the whole truth of this. Just as was always the case, he knew her best, and he wished sometimes that wasn’t so. For her sake, he wished she could have been so much more open...

“You’re away from Dolomar. Away from the press, away from Villa. You can’t reach him here.” And he couldn’t reach her either. “Forget about duty for a little while and just exist with me, okay?” She had to take off some of the stressors of her life or she’d never be able to heal. Picking at wounds only made them worse and left scars. He wanted her to come through this with as little permanent damage as possible.

He knew what is cost her, ultimately, to admit to not being able to do her job. The fact that she'd even say that showed just how much she'd fractured since the last time he'd seen her. It was all she had. Or at least that was how she felt. Leaving it behind like she currently was left her literally with nothing. Except, well, dare he say himself? He doubted she would have been here otherwise.

[Constance Bravil]

“I promise. Don’t worry about it.”

Slender shoulders sagged in visible relief. She believed him. Before Constance had met the stubborn Jedi Master, she'd never have thought she could come to accept anyone's word so fast and with so little hesitation, but he'd taught her different. Lysander had never lied to her, and somehow she held complete confidence that he'd never so much as try. When he gave his promise, he kept it, same as she would had their positions been reversed. In this area they were built much the same.

"Thank you." The cloying cloud of guilt in her mind abated, granting her better clarity of thought. Conner would rather have hanged herself than bring this man to harm. Much as she danced around the dangerous L-word, she couldn't pretend to ignore how deep her feelings ran for the Guardian. "That means so much."

When her lover's arms closed around her body, Constance offered no resistance. Indeed, she all but melted into his embrace, needing the physical and emotional support of his touch more than she'd been willing to admit. The pilot's hands came to rest against his lower back, her forehead sagging down to his shoulder as he drew her closer. Maybe she should've resisted, held back rather than let Lysander show her such sympathy, but Conner didn't have it in her to pull away. Fighting what she wanted, even needed, made no sense, especially when the Jedi offered his love so freely.

“But that’s why you’re here. To get away from all of that, forget about it for a little while, work through it in the moments when you feel up to it with someone who wants to help.”

Yes, the Group Captain supposed that was why she was here. She'd quite literally jumped at the chance to get away from Dolomar. Constance had needed--no, craved--distance from her day to day life. As much as she'd confided in her best friend and wingman of thirteen years, she hadn't been able to tell him everything which had gone wrong on Iridonia. Frack, he probably knows too much as it is.

Some lines Conner couldn't cross, no matter how much she trusted the man she'd come to consider close as family. Her duty to the Alliance trumped near every other card in her deck. But Lysander knew the truth, all of the truth. Talking to him didn't divide her loyalties. She didn't have to shield her fractured mental state from him either, since he could read her mind easily as a datapad.

That said, she'd be lying if she claimed this to be the sole reason she'd badgered her superiors into granting shore leave. "I also just plain missed you," Conner muttered, the words muffled against the wall of his chest. "Think I'm allowed that much selfishness in my life, right?" The arms circling Lysander's waist drew tighter, an unconscious reaction to the sentiment behind her words.

“You’re away from Dolomar. [...] Forget about duty for a little while and just exist with me, okay?”

Of all the things he'd asked of her in their time knowing one another, this request was one of the easiest to fulfill. Not only was she already here with him, but she could think of nothing else she'd rather do. "Okay." The tension in her body ratcheted down a few notches. Constance no longer had to keep her professional facade fixed in place, her posture militaristic. Those were all surface appearances, none of which mattered when dealing with a Jedi. More than that, she didn't want to pretend with him. Only with Lysander could she let down all her defenses.

Seconds turned into minutes as they held eachother. The undercover agent's mind didn't keep careful track, fed up with thinking and analyzing for the moment. She'd driven herself mad deconstructing her every action and reaction over the past few weeks, picking apart all she'd said and done. And hadn't done. Masochistic as Constance might tend towards in treating herself, even she could accept the necessity of taking a break.

"I didn't think you'd come for me." The words came unbidden, unplanned. The Corellian's head shifted against Lysander, turning to rest on her cheek to make her words clearer to understand. "Not so soon. I knew you'd find out, what with all the media coverage. But I never expected you to make time for me right then and there." The huff of amusement she gave then brushed warm against the side of his throat. "Not that I'm ungrateful. Stars, I needed to get away." No doubt her short and hasty response to his invitation had told him how desperate she'd been for escape.

Constance struggled with what to say next, feeling the need for additional words without having any clear intention of what to say. "Maybe... maybe you shouldn't tutor me anymore, though. I can't... I don't understand what the concept you call the 'Dark Side' truly means, but if it's anything like the madness I feel right now I want no part of it. And if you keep teaching me when I'm so flawed... I don't want to run the risk. Bad enough I feel like I've disappointed you already."

[Lysander Odakota]

"I also just plain missed you. Think I'm allowed that much selfishness in my life, right?"

Having settle comfortably in the returned embrace of the woman he loved, Lysander managed a smile then, the first he felt like he’d had in a while now. “Right,” he concurred completely. “I missed you too, anyways.” It was hard, being apart. And yes, they both deserved this bit of selfishness. Much as he had a hard time doing things for himself, he had been quick to ultimately embrace the idea that he deserved to be with this woman.

"Okay."

And that was all he needed to hear. It was significant, her stepping down and away from all the emotion she’d been feeling long enough to agree to relax with him. She was already making good on that decision, her body softening against his and he snuggled her closer for it. He would hold her here as long as she wanted him to, loving every minute instead of finding reason to complain about standing around doing (supposedly) nothing.

His own tension left very quickly, the remainders of anxiety settling out. He didn’t have to worry about her anymore, she was here and safe and he was in a position to do damage control for anything else that might come up, or even if she brought the same subjects up again. He finally knew what he was dealing with, and as painful as the whole fiasco was, it ultimately could not have power over them. If he let it, it would ruin them, and he would not stand for it.

Even more quickly and completely than his fears, his anger had gone, too. Much as he was certain he would never, ever like the High General for what he’d done, the desire to destroy the man had dispersed. Not that there was any less reason to see the man dead now, but with his promise to Constance secure, even considering the action was a waste of his mental capacity. He did not entertain what he had no intention of pursuing.

"I didn't think you'd come for me.[...] Stars, I needed to get away."

A little surprised that she had thought he wouldn’t jump on the chance to get to her, he felt his mood turn to bemusement. “You didn’t think I would?” he echoed. “Please, the moment I heard I knew I couldn’t focus on anything else. You needed me, I knew that, and so I made it possible. It never crossed my mind to do otherwise.” He turned his face against her head where it rested on his shoulder, pressing a quick kiss to the tousled hair against her forehead.

“Nothing short of a bigger disaster within the Order could have kept me from you. You’re important. Plain and simple as that.”

"Maybe... maybe you shouldn't tutor me anymore, though.[...] Bad enough I feel like I've disappointed you already."

He felt a twinge of sadness at this particular thought on her part. The idea that she felt she would even go that way... “First of all, you haven’t disappointed me. I’m concerned for you, not because of you.” He wasn’t sure he was capable of thinking poorly of her, to any tangible degree. “Secondly, don’t you think this is exactly the situation I want to help you to prevent with what I’ve been teaching you?”

Sure, there was a chance that she could lose it and use what he taught her for ill, but he still didn’t see that as any real possibility, even in the face of what she’d told him. “I’d be more afraid to stop, really. This darkness you feel needs to be properly put to rest, and I don’t know of any other way to do it. Do you?” He doubted it, or she would have tried it already.

“We all have bad moments, darker impulses. Without those to overcome... well, being a Jedi would hardly be a challenge. Just because you possess these traits doesn’t mean you shouldn’t seek improvement, even if that path to improvement does open some potential for abuse.” Again, not something he saw her doing. “But the chance for you falling will only really occur if you get the power to corrupt yourself, and I won’t be guiding you that far down the path until I’m certain you’re ready for it.”

A pause, a little tightening of his arms on her. “That said, if you insist on stopping, I won’t force you into a situation you’re not comfortable with.” He just hoped his evidence as to why the opposite decision was better was compelling enough.