Poison on our Tongues (9591 words) by depressed-sock
Gift For @dandenbo
Fandom: Mass Effect Trilogy
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Thane Krios/Jacob Taylor
Characters: Jacob Taylor, Thane Krios, Female Shepard (Mass Effect), Original Mass Effect Character(s), Karin Chakwas
Additional Tags: Undercover, kind of a jacob loyalty mission rewrite, Eden Prime (Mass Effect), Sexual Tension, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, cerberus type experiments, Slight Drell Hallucinogenic poison, Canon-Typical Violence, Mission Fic, background Chakwas/Shepard, Mention of past relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Light Angst
...
Sometimes he wishes that things would stay in the past. An impossibility, of course, but still there's that part of himself that just wants to keep moving forward, refusing to look back at everything he's left behind.
Jacob stares at the new message in his inbox that blinks back at him in that fresh way of all his unread mail does when it's from a contact. Enough to draw his attention to it but not enough to draw the attention of anyone who might be looking over his shoulder. It should be easy.
One click and it's open.
The problem though, is that it's a message from a ghost. One whose been dead for years now. One he helped personally bury. The memory of it never really gone from his mind no matter what he tries. A light drizzle of rain, the hush from just him and a few others. A solid black casket, that reflected everything that got too close.
An empty casket.
He wipes a hand over his mouth, hair standing on end as he feels the buzz of his amp reacting to his emotions. He wants to move, to do anything but digging up old graves but he knows that this is something that'll dig itself up on it's own if he tries to ignore it.
Jacob opens the email not really sure what to expect but he feels like there should really be more to it than what's written in it. Maybe a 'Hello, sorry it's been so long', or maybe just a 'I'm not dead, I was never dead'. At the very least, it's not an accusation demanding to know where he was when they needed him.
No. It's just three important letters and the name of a planet with a coded message that he can read on sight.
A barking laugh escapes before he can really stop it. His hands coming up to dig the palms into eyes , hiding away the sting of tears. Really he should have expected this. Can't outrun everything towards a better tomorrow.
Not when the past is looking to drag him back down into the trenches.
He reads the message again.
SOS
Eden Prime. You know where to go.
Yeah. Yeah he does.
…
He almost wants to drop it. Never think about it again and let whatever mystery it's leading toward stay buried. But no matter how hard he tries it's there in the back of his mind. Annoying and persistent just like a message left on read with no response back.
Jacob had never wanted to go back to Eden Prime, a place he's sure Shepard wouldn't be eager to return too either. Eden Prime was a testament to everything wrong in the galaxy and how everyone in charge was willing to sweep it under the rug. It had been what made him leave the Alliance. The final straw that broke the camel's back and landed him right at Cerberus's feet.
He knows, though, that the longer he puts this off the shorter the time grows for a friend who may or may not be dead. (For a man who was something to Jacob. Something they never really put into words.)
It's a matter that's taken out of his hands late into the Normandy's night cycle, when the Commander finds herself haunting his particular area of the ship. She's not fully coordinated, dark skin a shade paler than it should be, braids loose from the bun she usually twists them into, and a hand gripping tight around the neck of a bottle that's had it's label fully peeled off.
Must be one of those nights.
"Shepard, wasn't expecting to see you tonight." He says with a raised eyebrow. She shrugs, letting out a huff of a laugh before she perches herself on the table across from him.
"You haven't told me what loose ends you want to tie up."
"Who says I have loose ends to tie up?"
The look she gives him is patronizing enough to make him feel embarrassed for even trying to deflect. "You telling me you don't?" She asks with half-lidded eyes, her mouth a straight line that's as set in stone as it usually is.
"Can't get anything past you can I?" He huffs shaking his head as that stone mouth cracks and she smirks before she takes a long gulp from her bottle. "Yeah, I've got a favor to ask. One you might not like considering where it's headed."
"You say that like I enjoy going to any of the places I've been." She snorts shaking her head. "Well lay it on me. Not like I've got much else to do tonight."
For a moment Jacob hesitates. He doesn't like to talk about the past, especially when he's too busy trying to move forward but… well this isn't exactly something he can keep in the past now, is it? "Got a message from an old friend. An SOS."
She raises her eyebrow, humming in thought. "We can set out immediately…" she gives him a long look, "But I've got a feeling there's more to this than an ask for help from an old friend?"
"Yeah, considering the person who sent it is supposed to be dead. Very dead, in fact. I'm sure you remember Eden Prime and what happened to the people there?"
She's quiet for a moment as she takes a sip of her drink. Chewing on it like maybe she can hold off answering just a second longer before she has to swallow. "I remember." The words are soft as she says it. "Kind of hard to forget it, if I'm being honest. The first domino in this long chain of never ending events and horrors."
She huffs out a laugh. "Not sure I have any right to complain, I probably would have wormed my way into the middle of this even without Eden Prime."
He smiles at that, shaking his head with a laugh of his own. "Considering how I've seen you work I absolutely believe that." Then he sobers, looking away and towards the glowing core of the ship's engines. "I don't know if I told you this but I was on Eden Prime too when everything went down. Lost most of my squad there. Including a man named Adam Tines."
Jacob finds himself leaning back against the work bench. Biting his lip as he decides on his next words. "I saw him go down. Shot in the back by a Geth, but unlike the rest of my squad I never saw him put onto any dragon's teeth."
"So there's a possibility that this SOS is from him."
"Could be. But that leads to several questions of if it is him, why did it take him this long to contact me? And why now, why there?"
Shepard hums in agreement, tilting her bottle and frowning when she finds it empty. "And if it's not him, then the question would be whose trying to draw you out." She raises an eyebrow. "You realize either way this is probably a trap, right?"
"I'm aware." He sighs, slumping a bit more against the desk. "Another reason why I wasn't going to bring it up."
Shepard sets the bottle down with a sigh, running a hand over tightly braided locks, tugging on the end of one gently before she lets her hand fall back into her lap. "I've got a bad feeling about your answer but where exactly does he want you to go?"
"Right back to the end. Or for you, I guess the start."
She sighs, the words coming out like an executioner's ax. "Eden Prime."
…
Jacob sits on the bench in front of his locker like he's done dozens of times before. In his hands he holds his old helmet from his days in the Alliance and Corsairs. Twisting it back and forth in his hands, watching the way the black visor reflects him back in it. Hoping that maybe it might hold all the answers.
He doesn't remember the last time he wore it or why he's kept it along with the rest of his old armour. It's just another weight holding him down, keeping him frozen in place instead of moving forward like he should be. Making him question if he's really on the right path, if this is really truly is the best way to help people. To help humanity.
There's a broken huff of a laugh that escapes before he stands and puts it back into the locker.
What he's doing now has to be better. There's no regulations, no red tape in between him and immediately being able to act to help save people. That's the point isn't it?
He breathes, grabs his pistol and moves to start cleaning it. Taking it apart with a practiced methodical touch. There's still something that's bothering him. A feeling that's itching at the back of his skull and making his amp act up more than it should. It feels like sparks of energy running along his skin, arching down his spine.
It's all in his head but still… there's something off about all of this. He knows it's got to be a trap, but the more he thinks about it the more he starts to question the point of it.
Adam was… he just was. Jacob knows there's no one left alive who knew or could have guessed about their closer connection. That they hadn't been just squad mates. What happened between them had been an eye opening experience for himself but it never got anywhere that it would be an obvious soft point for him.
But maybe that's the point. Maybe instead, it's the connection back to Eden Prime. Something that would draw more than himself back.
Is it even a trap for him?
He frowns, hesitating over that thought like he's chewing on something far too sour.
The elevator doors open with a soft hiss that draws his attention up to the figure who enters. Near silent footsteps would have been enough to tell him exactly who it is but still he finds himself meeting the gaze of Shepard's pet assassin. Dark alien eyes meeting and holding his.
It's barely even a moment before the other man nods his head and looks away. Yet for some reason that brief look still leaves something dark coiling in his chest. Something empty and hungry. Starving for attention.
He shakes his head, refocuses his attention to his gun. Jacob knows better than to sigh or complain about Shepard's choice in squad mates.
They need all the hands they can get and besides Shepard's just using the tools she's been given. She isn't the one who made this growing list of questionable people. That's all on Cerberus.
Still… not the first choice he would have made for this particular mission.
He bites the side of cheek, feels the growing stiffness in his spine the longer he keeps his back to the assassin. It takes beating back every instinct in his head to just continue cleaning his gun without fully turning around.
The rustle of clothes, he can almost imagine the way Krios's coat would come apart, the way it would slide down the mans arms. Bare chested, and built in an alien way. Or maybe the muscular structure is similar enough to humans that it wouldn't be that strange at all.
"Didn't think an Assassin would be interested in walking into a trap." He can't help but comment.
Jacob can practically hear the way the other man pauses. So loud in a room filled with the vibrations and hum of the Normandy's engine.
Krios gives a huff of amusement. "I'm not. However, Shepard mapped out the area and found a point where I can give you both covering fire." Jacob turns and finds the Drell making a face. "Not my preferred method but two people are less likely to spook your friend than three."
"I'm sure you'd rather get up close and personal." Jacob can't fully keep the sneer out of his voice. Krios blinks, head tilting as he studies Jacob. There's nothing hostile in the gesture but it still has his hackles raising.
Before he can say anything more the elevator dings and Shepard walks out. Not looking at either of them as she reads a data-pad in her hand and walks past them. "Be nice." She says like she's been here the whole time and knows every word they've said and will say.
Jacob sighs and turns back to finish putting his gun back together. She's right, there's far more important things to focus on.
…
The place they set down at is more unfamiliar than familiar. There's no sign of any of the fighting that had taken place here only a few years ago. No dragon's teeth scattered about, no explosive holes in the ground, or bullet marks scored into the prefabs. The whole place is almost too perfect in it's serenity.
It's also grown in size. The small prefabs that had been set up for scientists and soldiers are now practically buildings in their own right. Closer to a small town rather than a camp. There's a part of himself that's proud of that. The people here picked up the pieces and built it all back up, better than new.
There's another part of himself, though, that's taking in the space, the corners, the weak-points. Seeing a battlefield with very little advantage if an enemy got up high enough to have clear sightliness.
Shepard's almost as tense as he is. Helmet tilting in minor increments as she checks each and every bit of her surroundings while keeping an eye on whatever information her helmet sensors are giving her.
"I'm not picking up any life-signs." Her voice is quiet, eyes meeting his through her visor. "That's never a good sign."
Especially nowadays.
The comn in his ear activates, Krios voice coming over with a crystal clear rumble. "No bodies outside the buildings. Hopefully they've just been evacuated."
Jacob huffs, shaking his head as he puts a hand on the pistol clipped to his hip. "No way the Alliance could have convinced every single person to leave of their own free will. Besides we haven't picked up any information on the Alliance trying to evacuate the people here."
"Agreed." Shepard pulls the shotgun from her back, moving towards a building with an open doorway. As she steps in Jacob turns, pulling his own gun free and holding it up as he protects her back. He hears her quiet steps, the way she clearly shifts things out of her path with her foot. "There's things left in place like Freedoms Progress."
"The Collectors then?" Thane asks, the raspy rumble of his voice making a shiver run down Jacob's spine. That's just what they need, another colony dead and gone right from under their noses.
Jacob finds himself biting the side of his cheek. Eyes sweeping the area. Sun beating down on him as insects chirp in the distance. There's an energy here. Pulling him to move, to seek out what he knows should be here.
"Somethings not right," he says distracted. Hands dipping with the pistol as he stands up just a bit straighter. "There's been no report of Collectors or missing colonists here. It doesn't add up." The Illusive man wouldn't have left out that kind of information, not when it could lead to more clues about the Collectors.
No, this is… this has to be something different.
Shepard steps back out, shoulders stiff, fingers tight around her gun. He can feel the way her biotic field shifts around her. It's almost an all in composing, devouring feeling of unease. It's not often he picks up anything like that from her. She's usually got an iron grip of control on every single aspect of her abilities.
So it's obviously not just him whose getting a bad feeling about all this. Jacob looks back at her and knows she can feel the way his own field turns like a rolling storm as she nods her head in understanding.
"I'll have Joker and EDI run a scan, maybe they'll pick up something we can't."
Out of the corner of his eye, there's a sharp glint from one of the roofs. The opposite direction of where their assassin should have found himself. "Shit," he barely has time to knock Shepard back into the doorway and for his barrier to flare to life as the shot aimed at his head is absorbed in a burst of energy. "Shepard!"
"I see them!" She's barely even stumbled, already pushing past him, running towards the shot. In a flash of blue she's gone. Like a bullet shot straight out of a canon.
"Shepard's made contact," the assassin says with a sound of amusement. "Though I'm sure they're wishing she hadn't."
"I wouldn't want to be hit by a full on biotic charge either." He's already rising back to his feet. Running towards the flash of biotic energy that drags the sniper up before slamming them back onto the roof with a hard crack and a muffled scream.
Efficient might be too simple of a word to call Shepard.
"Only one sniper from what I can see but I'll move positions to make sure there's no one else here who can surprise us."
Jacob holds his tongue about how Krios should have seen the first one. Not the time, nor the place for that kind of thinking.
By the time he makes it to the roof the sniper is on the ground one hand raised in surrender and the other lying limp in their lap as Shepard keeps a steady aim on them with her shotgun. He steps up beside her, his own pistol drawn and aimed.
The sniper's clearly outfitted with good gear, covered head to toe in a synthetic weave that could take a good number of shots before it started failing. But they're clearly not used to having to deal with someone who can fight back or maybe they're just not used to someone with biotics.
Jacob glares down at them."Not a very good trap if you're the only one here."
The sniper startles a bit, head tilting like they're going to try and check their surroundings before they force themself still. "Trap? Listen all I was told to do was to take a few potshots if anyone got too close to her lab. No one said anything about fucking biotics, just farmers."
Shepard shifts, gun going to her back so that she can cross her arms and stare down unimpressed. "A merc." She huffs shaking her head, "And potshots huh? Looked more like you were aiming for my friend's head."
"Then you need to get your eyes checked because I wasn't." An obvious lie. "Besides you came in armoured, I figured you could use a bit more motivation to scram and that your shields could take it."
"Uh-huh."
Jacob doesn't roll his eyes, no matter how much he wants too. "You said a lab. Whose lab?"
The sniper goes quiet shifting nervously as they take in their options. "…A Doctor. She didn't give a name. Just told me to guard the entrance for a week. I'm pretty sure she's planning on destroying everything in there." Another shift, they're hand falling into their lap. "Listen, if you let me go I'll show you where it is. This job aint' worth my life."
Shepard tilts her head, and he catches her eye staring out at him through the side of her visor. "This is your friend we're looking for."
Jacob hesitates, thinks through the information and how it could relate at all to the message he got and he just doesn't see how the pieces fit. Not yet, at least.
There's really only one option here. "Show us."
…
The merc holds one of his arms close to his chest as he guides them down a set of stairs, the air growing colder and colder with each step. Jacob breathes out, each puff of air growing increasingly visible.
"How far down does this go?" Shepard asks, eyes never moving from the merc's back.
Krios takes up the rear guard and Jacob can practically feel the man's own stare. Whether it's on the merc or himself he couldn't say. Either way, it feels impossible to escape. He breathes, slowly surely. Settles that nervous feeling in his gut.
"Far enough." The merc snorts shaking his helmeted head. "Just the way the good doctor likes it."
They step in through the doors and it takes everything in his power to beat back the wave of nausea it induces. Bodies laid out in what looks like clear caskets. Rows and rows of them in this dark metal room.
"Fuck." The word is out before he has time to even think about it.
Shepard hisses under her breath, grabbing the merc by his collar. "What the hell is this?!"
The merc raises his good arm up in surrender. "I'm only supposed to stop people from investigating. I had no clue that this is what's down here!"
He can almost imagine the sneer of disgust Shepard must be giving the man from under the safety of her helmet. "Sure you didn't." The merc doesn't even have time to react before a biotic fist slams into his helmet hard enough to crack it, knocking him down for the count. "Let him sleep that off, we'll drag him back up and leave him to the authorities after we're done here."
She shakes out her hand as she stomps forward, her spine straight and shoulders stiff.
"You always know just the right way to make friends, Shepard." He teases, watching her posture shift just a bit into something less stressed.
"At least there's no window's nearby." Thane comments blandly as he steps up next to Jacob, who can't help his own small huff of laughter.
Shepard flips the both of them off, refusing to give either of them her time by looking back. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up and while you do that maybe start looking for clues."
He hides a smile before he starts to walk down through a row, the good mood quickly draining as he looks into the caskets with a growing sense of horror. Each person is in a different state of being taken apart and put back together. Cybernetics spliced through them, still working and almost alive as they move and adjust the bodies pieces into new positions.
"God, are they trying to make husks?" Shepard mutters, as she presses the palm of her hand to the glass of one of the tubes.
It looks like it but still there's almost something other about it. He frowns, moves up to the next row and suddenly it seems to almost click. "I don't think husks are the end goal, Shepard." Whoever this was looks far closer to human rather than a husk.
What would be grey skin is a warm brown that been carved through with the black and silver of the cybernetics. Their face a mixture of features that don't quite fit, their expression blank and dead with unseeing cybernetic eyes that stare back. The body itself twisted and warped into something that should feel familiar but just isn't the longer he looks.
Whoever, whatever this is, is a whole new thing that's been created out of multiple people.
"Fuck." Shepard says with feeling as she steps up next to him. "Look around, see if you can find any information about who did this and…" She hesitates before she adds softly. "See if there's a list of names for the victims."
He closes his eyes for a moment and breathes. Swallows back the guilt and rising emotions. Most likely he's going to find Adam's name on that list. If the list even exists.
There's a firm hand on his shoulder, a soft squeeze before Krios moves past him. For a moment he can't help but watch the man walk away from him. Something inside him easing just a bit.
…
There's more than enough terminal's scattered about for each of them to take one and look through it. He almost wishes there wasn't considering everything he's been reading. So many people, so many bodies. It didn't matter their gender or age, each one had been desecrated and taken apart.
What's worse is that some of these notes look like Miranda's from when she was putting Shepard back together. He wipes a hand over his mouth, pushes back the queasiness.
"Each document I've read through has been signed off by a Dr. L." His voice is hoarse as he says it.
"Jacob, look at this."
He turns toward Shepard and feels his heart drop. The logo is plain to see and unmistakable on her terminal screen. "No that's. Cerberus wouldn't do this."
Shepard doesn't comment, only brings up the next few pages of a report. Dr. Victoria Leshly had been in charge here, the most recent personal entry from her though is from a month ago. "Everything I've read so far is about her experiments trying to make a husk that she can control. She wanted something that could blend in with the rest of humanity and not be noticeable."
The implications are horrifying.
"What's her connection to Cerberus?" There's acid on the back of his tongue. He's almost afraid to know. They couldn't have approved something like this, how would this help Humanity? How would this help anyone?
She pulls up another file, and Jacob almost wants to close his eyes and ignore what's right in front of him. He refuses to do that. To be a part of the very problem he's so fucking tired of.
They're saved backups and copies of emails he's sure no longer exist anywhere else in the galaxy. Multiple correspondences between her and the Illusive Man himself.
"We'll have time to go through it on the ship," Shepard's voice is soft, her hand coming to rest on his arm. She squeezes it lightly before she returns her focus to the terminal. "I'll keep EDI locked out of it just in case. I don't want her reporting it back to him."
He nods his head, almost afraid to speak. "I haven't found anything that would explain why there's no one here other than one guard. Where's this doctor? Why isn't she here?"
"Looks like she ran to me." Shepard types a few more things into the terminal. "And left everything behind to get out as fast as possible."
He leans forward on the table, feels the anger simmering underneath. The anger at least, feels a whole lot better than the sense of betrayal that's starting to creep in. "She's got years of work here, though. What would make her leave all her work behind?"
"The same reason why there was a sniper hiding out of sight and by himself." She turns and he can almost feel the glare she points at the merc who still lies passed out on the ground. "Because someone wanted her dead."
It makes sense. A hasty retreat, everything left behind. But then he adds in the SOS he got and it's still not fully adding up.
"Someone wanted us to find this place." That's the only thing he can think of. Someone else knew about this place and wanted them to find it. Not the doctor. Not if the merc is telling the truth and she does has plans to destroy this place and any evidence that could tie back to her.
More importantly, he thinks, Someone wanted him to find it. There's a dozen other ways to get this kind of information to Shepard. Hell they'd just need to put it on a nearby unguarded terminal anywhere in Shepard's vicinity and she would have found it. It didn't have go through him. But someone wanted him to be here.
"There's a list." Thane's voice is quiet but it feels like the loudest thing in the room. Jacob turns his head, the Drell is looking down at his screen with a grim frown. He glances up, sympathy clear as he pulls away and allows Jacob access.
The list is thorough. He's not sure if that makes it better or worse, knowing so many small details about each and every person whose body is here.
Tines, Adam is only one of three hundred but the name is still enough to punch the breath from his chest.
Jacob swallows around the lump in his throat. Closes his eyes and pushes away from the terminal. Walking back through the rows and not even daring to glance down in case he recognizes something. He takes the steps back up two at a time.
As soon as the sun hits him it all almost feels too much. He knew that this was the most likely outcome. His friend dead and someone else dragging his ghost like a lure. He just would never had thought it would lead to anything like this.
He almost hopes Adam had already been dead by the time the doctor got her hands on him. Hopes dearly that the man wasn't alive when she began to take him apart and turn him into something other.
Jacob's hands curl into fists. Anger, disgust, grief all warring with each other in his head.
Krios steps out of the door behind him, and he almost wants to rage at the man. It's because of people like him, it's because- he breathes closes his eyes and swallows all those petty thoughts back down his throat.
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"He's been dead for years."
"That doesn't mean that it doesn't still hurt when someone gives you false hope." He says it like a man whose familiar with that exact concept. Jacob sighs, rubs at his eyes and pulls himself back together.
"You're not wrong." Shakes his head as the laugh he gives is as fake as everything around him feels right now. "It just really doesn't help that my boss might be the reason all this even happened." He swallows, it's something he didn't even want to consider but… he can't ignore this. He needs to know for sure.
There's no point standing around here, there's information back down there and a target he knows he can go after. "We should get back down there." It was stupid to leave in the first place.
Thane shakes his head. "Shepard's already downloading all the information, we can go back through it on the Normandy." He puts a hand to Jacobs chest, stopping him from going past him. "There's no need to disturb the dead's rest and your own peace of mind."
Jacob should be angry, should push past anyway. Instead he finds his own hand covering Thane's. They're closer then they've ever been, barely any space between them. Jacob's heart is in his throat and he knows. He knows, exactly the thoughts he keeps denying himself since he first saw the assassin.
His mouth opens. To say something, anything. He leans forward.
The ground shakes under their feet and smoke billows up out of the stairway. They both stare for a moment, too shocked to do anything else.
Then Jacob curses, pushing past and back down the steps. "Shepard!"
…
Jacob stares into the Normandy's medical bay where Shepard lies deathly still, hooked up to machines that work to repair her. He remembers a time when he'd seen almost exactly the same thing while on that station. As Miranda meticulously put Shepard back together piece by piece.
Except this time Shepard is breathing and alive. Not a corpse being Frankenstein-ed back from the dead.
He winces, the thought immediately reminding him of the lab. He pinches the bridge of his nose, tries not to feel the sour taste of failure. He should never have left the room.
"It's not your fault."
Jacob doesn’t jump, no matter how much he wants too. Instead he slowly turns his head towards the speaker.
Krios isn't looking back at him, instead his gaze is directly where Jacob's had been. Focused completely on Shepard.
He chews his cheek, before he sighs. "It's not yours either."
Krios's lips twitch but he doesn't comment on that. "The mercenary's body couldn't be recovered, but the data Shepard saved on her omnitool is all still there."
Meaning they've still got their leads. But who knows how fast they'll dry up before Shepard can fully recover. He sighs, hand covering his eyes as his fingers dig into his eyelids. This was all a mistake. He should let it go, there's far more important things to worry about.
Those people are already dead and gone. His friend is dead and gone. The Collectors are out there planning to do far worse to people who are still alive. It should be easy to just give up and move on.
"There's coffee." Krios says out of the blue.
Jacob drops his hand, looking at the man with a raised eyebrow. "Coffee?"
Krios shrugs. "There's plenty of information for us to go through, I assumed it might be needed."
He stares for a moment, unsure what to say before he just gives a huff of laughter.
It's a white flag, even though it's Jacob who should really be waving it. He looks back at Shepard, chest rising and falling as Chakwas stands watch. Her hand covering Shepard's.
"Yeah," he says, "Alright. Lets see what we can dig up."
…
The more he looks through the files the more of a horror story this whole thing becomes. Leshly had been given one written order from the Illusive Man: find a way for us to survive the Reapers. Apparently for Dr. Leshly that meant: find a way to keep your mind intact as a husk.
She'd started out on people already turned into husks, the victims from Eden Prime. Alliance personal, his squad, the scientists, the civilians. He swallows as he tosses the datapad on the table, head falling into his hands. It apparently didn't take long before she'd devolved into making her own husks. First with dragons teeth, then with her own technology as she tried to recreate it.
Her mission at some point had turned from keeping a person's mind intact to having complete and utter control of them.
"There's several correspondence's between her and a Collector agent." Thane voice a smooth rumble before reads out loud, "The colony defenses will be down tomorrow night, be quiet and no one will ever know you were here."
"She sold out the colonists." Jacob feels numb, digs the palm of his hands into his eyes. That's why it was empty, why no one even knew they were gone. She'd helped the Collectors take them.
"Yes." Thane pulls no punches just gives the complete and utter pointblank truth. "If we match the dates of her emails to the Illusive Man it's around the time of her fallout with Cerberus."
Those emails had been sparse, nothing concrete to really tell Jacob how much the Illusive Man had known about what the doctor was doing. (That lack of acknowledgment, however, says more than Jacob would like.) Her last few emails had been her demanding research funding back with the Illusive Man cutting her off completely.
"Doesn't mean he didn't also have a hand in it." Jacob mutters before raising his head and watching as Krios thumbs through more of the information. "I don't think there's much else to find." Or go off of. They'd have to ask Cerberus to look into it and that… that just makes him feel sick.
"I think there's still plenty to find. All it means is that she needs funding from someone else." Thane looks up at him with a smirk. "There's a few other names here that I recognize, that put their own money into whatever they think she's researching. Names that are all going to be in one place a week from now on Illum."
A place where the good doctor might show up herself to secure more funding. "And you know this because?"
"I'm sure you can guess." Thane's inner eyelids blink slowly and yeah, Jacob can give a few good guesses. He decides it's probably for the best if he has plausible deniability though.
"How do we get in?" The security will be tight, if Shepard had been up to her full strength she probably could be invited in just by being herself. Without her though, they'll need another way in.
Thane's head tilts, "I might have a way. Let me reach out to a contact first." The man is practically glowing with satisfaction. Clearly very confident that he has a way in.
It's honestly a lot more attractive then Jacob would ever openly admit too.
He huffs out a breath, leaning back into his chair with a relief that feels oddly right. "Alright. Tell me what you find out when your done talking to your contact."
"Of course." Thane's voice is practically a purr.
Jacob finds himself swallowing. He could-
He shakes his head, rises and leaves the room despite how much he feels like he should stay.
…
"You know, I'm pretty certain that you didn't like Thane." Shepard says with a raised eyebrow, looking a whole lot less like she got blown up. Though she's certainly not fully up to much, not with her still in the medical bay, leg carefully raised up and kept immobilized. "Something about not trusting an assassin to watch your back?"
Jacob gives her an unimpressed look, crossing his arms, and pretending it's not at all irritating that she's coherent enough to give him shit. "I can admit when I'm wrong, Shepard. I jumped to conclusions and I shouldn't have."
She hums in response, nodding her head like she's drunk and just doesn't know the right amount of strength to use or when to stop nodding. "So it was all pigtail pulling. I thought it was but I didn't want to say anything and embarrass you both." She grins and he decides it's maybe best to start ignoring her.
"How long is she going to be on the good stuff, and when can I expect her to forget about all this?" He looks over at Chakwas who glances back with a grin that almost matches Shepard's.
"She'll be on it awhile longer, once we get her leg to no longer be a shattered mess we can start easing her off of it. However, I wouldn't put any credits on her forgetting anything any time soon."
He sighs.
"It's not that bad." Shepard says with a roll of her eyes. "I'm happy when my team doesn't want to kill each other." She frowns, "Are you guys sure you want to head out with just each other though? I don't like that you won't have the extra backup." She blinks and scrunches her nose. "Is each other a word?"
"It is and we'll be fine Shepard. It'll be a quick in and out to grab the invitations, then just confronting Leshly where she can't escape. We'll be back just in time to see both you and Dr. Chakwas making eyes at each other as she lets you leave medical."
He feels a rough tug on his leg as Shepard's biotics start to flair to life.
"No, biotics in medical." Chakwas says as she continues to write on her datapad, without even a glance back.
Shepard's biotics sputter out and she decides flipping him off is the better option here. She also gives him a long dark look, pointing a finger at him. "Ignoring that last part, you should know very well that nothing is ever easy. Ever. I am the living proof of that."
And she's not exactly wrong. He's however erring on the side of hoping for the best. Even if it feels immeasurably hard to do that right now.
"We'll be fine." He repeats firmly, like he can will it into existence. "Really, what's the worst that can happen?"
"Remember you said that when the worst happens."
Apparently having an Asari commando chase you down and almost dying in an elevator can happen. Jacob refuses to comn Shepard about it.
There's a beat to the music that seems to thrum in his ears like the pounding of someone trying to knock his teeth out. Unpleasant in all the wrong ways, just like the current company he's keeping.
Jacob pulls at the collar of his suit, doing his best to make it seem as natural as possible. It's tighter than he'd like but considering the short notice it's really the only option he had. Something he'd found for cheap because never in his life would he have expected that he should pack a fancy suit for a suicide mission.
A fancy suit for a fancy party for fancy people. All of whom would sell his left kidney and any other organs they could get their hands on if he writes his name down in the wrong place. Really not all that different from the rest of Illum. Except for perhaps the fact that the worst of the worst are gathered here tonight.
He takes a sip of the drink in his hand. Something that's blue and slides far too easily down his throat. Something that could easily get him drunk without any warning. Unfortunately, it's just not doing it fast enough.
The salarin whose decided that for some reason Jacob is the perfect person to rant to about all their problems too doesn't seem to notice the way his smile strains or the way he keeps trying to excuse himself from the conversation. There's an irritation building up, one that's already done with this whole deal. More and more it feels like the one whose supposed to be here is Shepard and not himself.
She's the one who knows how to play the part, pull the right strings, say the right words. He's not sure she even fully realizes the affect she has on people.
But Shepard's not the one here. She's still out for the count, no matter how recovered she keeps telling everyone she is. Chakwas certainly has her hands full right now.
Out of the corner of his eye he catches sight of a familiar figure as it weaves through the crowds. Red tinted glasses reflecting the room like it's as covered in blood as it should be with the amount that's on every one of these greedy son-of-a-bitche's hands.
Thane tilts his head, dark eyes meeting Jacob's from over the rim of the glasses. A slow alien blink of his eyes and then the man is moving again. Blending far too easily into the crowd like the man has always belonged here.
Jacob's breath releases in a rush of air. He hadn't even realized he'd been holding it. Not until now when it hits that he's not alone no matter how much it feels like it in this sea of scum.
Nothing to worry about with the assassin watching his back. A thought he'd never would have dared to imagine before all this happened.
"Excuse me," He says with a smile that's still too strained and an accent that doesn't quite fit his mouth, "I think I just saw my business partner and I'd like to cut her off before she starts trying to sell off everything because she's had a little too much to drink."
The salarin nods their head like they completely understand and somehow relates to the issue but Jacob doubts they care about anything he has to say. Not with how they turn, already looking for their next victim to complain too.
Jacob steps through the crowd, lets the music swell around him as he makes his way to the dance floor. His shadow a mirror on the other side of the floor. It's all so easy. Too easy.
They wade through the crowd of dancers, all of who have clearly had a bit too much to drink or are hitting a high he can't even begin to imagine. He meets Thane in the middle, his hand pressing against Thane's already open palm in an almost near perfect way. The slide of familiar smooth scales, cool to the touch and warming fast under the contact.
Thane's freehand quickly grips his hip. Squeezing softly in assurance.
"Eyes on the target yet?" Jacob mutters under his breath, moving with Thane in a dance that's slow enough for them to talk but fast enough for no one to read their lips. With the way the music is practically vibrating the building he doubts anyone would be able to hear them.
"Upper balcony to your left." Thane spins them both around so Jacob can see the older human woman whose smiling brightly as she raises a toast to a few others who crowd around her. Victoria Leshly is certainly not what he was expecting a cold hearted traitor who sold out humanity to look like.
He guesses people come in all shapes and sizes because she also doesn't look like a mad scientist who took people apart and put them back together in horrific conglomerations for fun.
He can still smell the stale blood, see the cold dead bodies that had been spliced with cybernetics. Jacob can't hide the shudder that comes with just thinking about it.
Thane's grip shifts on his hand, fingers curling around and thumb brushing his knuckles.
"Right," Jacob breathes, settling his nerves in a practiced way. "Well… guess I should go introduce myself."
"I'll be right behind you." Thane presses close whispering into his ear, a brush of hot air that sends a shiver up his spine. "In the shadows." Unseen by everyone, waiting for a chance to pounce should all this end in disaster.
Jacob squeezes the Thane's hand in return. Acknowledgement, assurance, whatever it needs to be for the both of them.
Before he lets go, though, he curses as he catches sight of another familiar figure. An Asari with purple markings, scowling out across the crowd looking like she's trying to kill every single person here with her mind.
More specifically the Asari they'd stolen the invitations from to get them through the front door only a few days ago. She's dressed up like a commando clearly looking to knock heads together rather than be a party goer here to enjoy her time. Her eyes scanning, looking for something.
Looking for him.
Because she'd caught sight of him before they could get a clean getaway. Shit.
"Trouble, twelve o'clock." He breathes out the words, turning them just a bit so Thane can catch sight of her. He frowns, starts to shift but Jacob holds tight. "Remember the elevator?"
Thane's lips involuntary twitch into a smile. "Hard for me to forget." Then he frowns, "Are you sure you can handle it? This place might make the affects worse."
Jacob rolls his eyes. "I'll be fine." He uses his free hand to pull Thane closer, lips meeting the Drell's before either of them can really think too hard about it. It's a slow kiss, languid and softer than anything he would have expected from the assassin.
Certainly softer then the desperate kiss they'd shared in the elevator when they thought they were going to die.
Thane guides him back, further into the crowd where they both disappear from the Asari's sight. By the time Jacob even thinks to pull back he's lightheaded, feeling far too relaxed and seeing shadows out of the corner of his eyes while lights spark front and center.
"Shit," he grimaces and he knew in the back of his mind exactly what he was getting into but still it's not exactly optimal state to be in while in a nest of vipers.
"Only fifteen minutes." Thane murmurs as his hands find their way to Jacob's shoulders, holding firm while avoiding anymore skin contact. There's a mixed look of want and regret on his face. His voice hushed as he says, "I can handle Leshly if you need me too."
"No!" Jacob's voice is a sharp, feeling too loud even though it barely gets him a glance from anyone around them. He adds, softer this time. "No. This is my mission, my mess to clean up. I need to look her in the eyes and see if she even regrets what she's done or if she's really just the monster everything we've found says she is."
And if the Illusive Man is too. If Jacob's been tricked again.
Thane stares him down before he nods, releasing his grip with a small amount of reluctance. "I'll distract our Asari friend while you clear your head."
"Thank you." And it's so easy to say. So easy to accept that the man in front of him has never been what he first thought of the assassin. "After this all over-" He can't make himself say it but Thane knows exactly what he means.
Thane's smile is soft as he agrees. "After this is all over." Then he's gone, disappearing back into the crowd like he'd never left it in the first place.
Jacob breathes, swallowing roughly as he tries to sort through the fog in his head and they way the room shifts in unreality. The alcohol not mixing well with the hallucinogenic poison from Thane's salvia.
It's fine though. He's powered through worse. He finds a corner, and waits for the worst of it to pass. By the time it does there's barely any ghosts that follow him to the steps that'll take him to the woman who holds all the answers he needs.
…
Doctor Leshly guides him to a private room. No running, no begging for forgiveness. Just a simple acceptance. The door slides shut behind him but noticeably doesn't lock. Uneasiness creeps up his spine.
She leans up against a desk, swirling her drink around. Bags under her eyes now noticeable under the singular light of the room and not the undulating ones at the party. It's almost same exact scene from only a week ago when Shepard had stumbled into his corner looking hunted.
This woman in front of him though, is nothing like Shepard.
"I'm honestly surprised it took this long for Cerberus to send someone." She huffs, red painted lips meeting the rim of her glass as she sips her drink. Leshly gives him a self depreciating smile. "Guess my work wasn't that important was it?"
"Cerberus didn't send me." He crosses his arms, glares at her. "I'm here because one of the people you took apart was a friend."
"And now you want revenge?" Her eyebrow quirks, smile still in place. It's almost frustrating, the lack of guilt. The lack of any emotion really.
"What I want is answers."
"You're not the only one." She sets her drink down, hands grip the edge of the desk. Nails digging into the wood for a moment. "Everyone want some kind of answer and it's never the one they want to hear."
And she's not exactly wrong, but these are answers he needs.
"What did the Illusive Man want you to really do? There has to be something more. Orders that never got written down or recorded."
She stares at him. Blinks. Then laughs like he just told her the funniest joke in the world. "That's what you want to know? Getting cold feet about your employment, are you. I bet you got the whole we're doing this for the betterment of humanity speech and didn't even bother to-"
"Answer the question."
"Control." Leshly shrugs. "That's really all there is too it. Control over people and over the Reapers. I'd guess for the ability to make sure nothing could turn on him. That he can play his little manipulation games and always come out on the winning side. He was so upset that my experiments where all on corpses."
His teeth grind together at the lie. "Not all of them were corpses."
She cackles at that. "They were when I was done with them." Leshly relaxes, sit more on the desk like there's no need to be on guard at all. Her nails click against the artificial wood of the desk. "Better for everyone that way. They don't scream as much as corpses anyway."
Jacob grinds his teeth together, breathes in and holds it for a moment before he releases it in a rush. "And selling out the Colony you were staying in? That a part of his plan too? Or was that just you being a petty bitch?"
She stares at him, dark eyes boring into him as her smile slips from her face. 'We're not going to win this war." It's said with certainty. "It won't even be a war. It'll be us all wiped out and enslaved. Gone within months, maybe years if we're lucky. Not unless we're willing to make sacrifices."
Leshly pushes off from the desk, strides up to him and stands face to face. She's taller than he expected, practically towering over him by a head. Intimidating.
He wonders if this is what most of her victims saw before they died.
"What's a corpse to a living human being?" her voice is a whisper. "What's one human being to ten? What's a small colony to the whole fucking galaxy? I did what was necessary. An exchange. An in to how the Collector's are made, how the Reapers have shaped them over time."
Her hand is on his chest pushing him back with an almost unnatural strength up hard against the door. He could open it, make her stumble, get out from under her and put a shot right into her head. He doesn't though. Not yet.
Nails dig into his chest. Sharp and painfully, clearly manicured to be like claws. "And ultimately when all this is said and done?" Her voice is on the edge of hysterical. "Once I've finished taking all the information I have apart? What I'll have is the way for us to survive indoctrination."
Jacob bites his cheek hard enough that he can taste the blood in his mouth. "And whose to say your not indoctrinated yourself?"
Leshly tilts her head, laughs again, and steps back. "You, I like you. You ask the right questions. The Illusive man wouldn't even begin to dare ask those kind of questions. If you're still around when he does eventually start playing with all the things I warned him not to touch, you should ask him the exact same thing." She turns her back to him, moving back to the desk and her drink. " The truth is I don't know if I am or not. Probably. It would be fitting wouldn't it?"
He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know if he should feel angry, upset, or just empty. This whole situation makes him feel like he's on uneven ground. Make's him question everything he's done up to this point.
"You knew about the Collectors." That's a sticking point in his brain. That she had to have already known if she went searching for those kinds of answers. "You knew they were Protheans."
Which means with absolute certainty that the Illusive Man did too.
"It's always funny how much information he likes to leave out isn't it?" She rounds the desk, sits in the chair and kicks her feet up onto it. Heel clicking together far too loud in the small enclosed room.
It's only now that he realizes hat no sounds from the party are even making it into here.
"So Mr. Taylor, I think the question now is, what are you going to do to me? I'm not very interested in fighting back so it'd be easy to just shoot me dead right here and now. Of course, that would mean loosing all of my research, kneecapping the war effort."
"Because you destroyed all of it when the lab went up in flames." Not all of it though. Not the stuff Shepard was able to save. Is it enough, though? Is it even worth it or would it all be tainted?
She raises her glass to him, before taking another long sip.
"I never told you my name."
"You didn't." She agrees.
There's a pistol in his coat. He could pull it, end all this right here. She'd deserve it too. After everything she's done. He glares at her, thinks of Adam and how his body had to have been taken apart.
And put back together.
"Well, Mr. Taylor? We don't have all night."
His hand slips inside of his coat.
…
The ride back to the Normandy is quiet. Thane doesn't ask what happened and Jacob doesn't bother saying. He'd made his choice, and now he'll have to live with it.
"I don't think my friend is dead." He hears himself say, even though he's not fully processing it. "I think Adam helped her."
Thane looks over, the flashing lights of Illum's city life passing over him like a kladiscope. "We can find out, if you want."
And Jacob, Jacob's not sure he really wants to know.
"Would you think less of me if I said no?"
Thane stares a moment before slowly he shakes his head, refocusing on the lanes ahead of them. "Some things are better left a mystery."
"Yeah." He agrees. "Yeah they are."
A hand meets his from where it rests on the arm of his seat. He turns his own and holds on tight.
Follow me into the frostbitten sideways of tomorrow (13877 words) by depressed-sock
Chapters: 3/3
Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Arla Fett/Ahsoka Tano, (Background) Obi-Wan Kenobi/Jaster Mereel
Characters: Arla Fett, Ahsoka Tano, Original Jedi Character(s) (Star Wars), Original Characters, Jango Fett, Jaster Mereel, Obi-Wan Kenobi
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Devotion, accidentally completely changing the timeline, Hidden Jedi Order (Star Wars), That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), Force-Sensitive Arla Fett, The World Between Worlds (Star Wars), Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, There Was Only One Bed, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Unreliable Narrator, Hopeful Ending, Force Bond (Star Wars)
...
Arla doesn't know where she is. Which is, perhaps, not the best situation to find herself in considering the last thing she remembers is being shot at. Some of the older, more fatally dedicated Deathwatch members had taken issue with her deciding to leave. Really she should have expected it but there had been that vain little hope that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't have been worth the effort.
She guesses that she should be honored that apparently her 'betrayal' was so well felt that it incurred such a response. In reality though, she's just so very fucking tired.
Not tired enough to stop walking. She's not stupid after-all. Hesitation would kill her just as easily as a blaster bolt in between the eyes.
This place she's found herself though… it makes her want to stop and just bask in the infinity of it all.
Arla walks along a path of starlight, galaxies and planets and the open blackness of space surrounding her. It's as if all at once everything and nothing exist together in a way that she's not even sure that she herself is real anymore. The pathway always, always, splitting of into various directions that whisper promises of lives she's never lived.
One where she'd been found by Jaster instead of Jango. One where she'd given up everything for a life of peace.
One where she walks on a pathway of stars that promises to change everything she has ever known.
"You're not supposed to be here." A woman's voice speaks from somewhere behind her.
Arla pauses. Blinks. Lets her thoughts settle back into her head before slowly she turns. She shouldn't recognize the Togruta woman that kneels in the path where she had just walked but there's something about the white robes the woman wears that scratches at some part of her brain. The robes seem to flow on the woman's body, rustling to a nonexistent wind that Arla can almost hear howling.
Vibrant blue eyes set against orange skin. Blazing with something Arla can almost feel.
She finds herself unintentionally stepping closer before she forces herself to stay put. To keep the distance between them despite the growing urge to grab this woman by her shoulders and shake her. Demand why it's taken so long, where has she been? Why now? Why here?
Arla swallows, breathes out the urge. Falls back onto old habits. "I don't even know where here is, Lady." She huffs, shaking her head. One moment her helmet is on, the next it's off. Her armour a heavy weight, her clothes far too light to feel safe. She shivers as a breeze makes the clothes flutter before she blinks and finds herself warm once again within her armour. She scrunches her eyes closed at the vertigo. "How do I leave if I'm not supposed to be here?"
The woman makes a sound of amusement. "I'm assuming you'd have to leave the same way you came in." Her voice is closer and when Arla opens her eyes she finds herself face to face with the woman.
She inhales as her mind catches at the sight of those eyes up close. Arla knows she's seen them before. Knows in some bone deep way that there was about a dozen different paths that lead straight to this woman. Arla reaches out without even thinking about it. Bare fingers gliding along the orange skin. Tracing the white patterning along her cheek as she cups it.
"I don't know where that is either." The words come out soft and amazed as the woman's hand presses against hers. Warm. So warm that Arla realizes that she's freezing.
The woman gives her a lopsided smile, sharp teeth on display that spell danger but Arla feels no threat at all from her. "I might be able to help." The smile falters, becomes sadder. Her hand squeezes Arla's before it pulls away and she steps back out of Arla's grasp. "If I do, I'll need your help as well."
Arla lets her hand fall to her side. Something dark crawls down her spine. She shifts, uneasily glancing around herself to find everything the same, and yet at the same time completely changed. She grimaces, looks back at the only point that stays fixed in this place. The woman's gaze holds her own like an anchor.
"What kind of help are we talking about here?" And because she's still got at least some sense left. "I'm not going to do anything that's not worth my time. Or against my code." Not that she has much of one left. This woman doesn't need to know that. Though Arla has a feeling she already knows.
"I wouldn't ask you do anything you wouldn't already be willing to do." The woman gives her an unimpressed look that quickly morphs into one of guilt. "All you need to do is let me lead you home so that I can go a bit further back than that. The problem, though, is that you might find yourself in a different reality all together because of what I need to do to set things right."
Arla frowns at that. "If that's the case you wouldn't be taking me back the way I came at all."
"I would, it's just… not going to be the same as what you left behind."
Honestly she's really not understanding how that's any different from what she said. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, unsure whether she should be amused or not by the implications that no matter what she's not going back to what she left. "What if I don't want the galaxy to change?"
"What if you did?"
What if she stepped forward, what if she ran away. What if she said this woman's name and knew her entire being better than Arla even knows herself.
"I just want to go home." She finds herself saying. Arla doesn't know what home should be for her anymore. Burned down and broken. Only ashes left.
But there is a home out there. She's seen the possibilities and she thinks- No, she knows that this woman can take her to it.
"So you'll help me?"
"I don't even know who you are."
The woman steps farther back and all at once Arla can see a thousand different versions of her. A woman in white robes, a woman in tan. Fully armored in traditional Mandalorian gear, barely any armor at all that's just bits and pieces pieced together over time. There's only one thing that stays the same. The two lightsaber's clipped to her belt that Arla now recognizes for what they are.
Whoever this woman is, no matter the path she takes, she bears with her proof that she's a Jedi through and through.
"I don't think you'd like who I am." The woman says sadly. "I don't think anyone would."
I would, she thinks to herself while letting the silence stay between them. The stars expand around her, burst into shards and spread further and further into the infinity. In one possibility she dies by Tor's hand, in another she lets her memories be taken from her.
In this one she asks, "What do I need to do?"
"Take my hand," The Jedi extends her hand towards Arla who reaches and meets it without hesitation. "And now," The Jedi grins, "we run."
Arla is tugged forward into a run, her feet beating against metal flooring, her boots crunching against forested ground. Her lungs burning with exhaustion, her heart beating with exhilaration.
She runs until she feels herself fall, down and down into the dark, the woman's hand has long since left her own. She turns her head, sees the white robes that flutter like a falling star next to her but still feels so very far away. Two points headed to two very different destinations. Arla knows she'll see this woman again.
That one day she will wake up and know exactly how to find her.
The streets of Nar Shaddaa have always found a way to get under Arla's skin. This is a place for the hopeless, the desperate, the people who have lost everything including their own morals. Perhaps it bothers her because she fits so well within the cracks of this place. There was once a time, in a lifetime long since diverged, that she had found herself here among the dredges.
Her boots meet the metal flooring with heavy clacks that reverberate through her as she drops from the opening of the barely put together ship that brought her here. Lights blare all around her in neon signs. Advertisements to bars, to strip clubs, to drugs that would make all the pain go away and implants that would make it all come back. Sights and sounds impossible to escape even with the light layer of smog that never really leaves Nar Shaddaa's air.
"Careful out there, most everyone here will gut you and sell your organs on the market." The man who brought her here says as he kicks down the ramp she'd decided to all together avoid. It creaks dangerously under his weight as he hobbles down it. She glances back at the older near-human man whose hair has started greying and whose wrinkles belay a life of happiness.
Arla knows better than to believe the facade by now. Old Yen is a bastard just as much as anyone else here is. The exuberant price she'd had to pay just for a lift is proof enough of that.
She waves him off, her amused snort coming through as a hiss of static from her helmet. "And you'd be the first in line to buy them."
He laughs, though really it's more a harsh hacking cough than anything pleasant. "Hahackk cough… cough…haha Watch yourself girl. You'll still need a ride out of here."
She won't. Not with what she's already got set up, ready and waiting for her. Besides, she has no plans to leave until she finds what she's come here for. The sooner the better but she's prepared to stay for as long as she needs too.
Arla doesn't bother to say that. Just shakes her head, waving him off as she moves onward through the false pristine cityscape that doesn't bother to hide the grime that lies just beneath it's surface. She can almost feel that impossible pull that drew her here in the first place. Telling her it's finally time.
Nar Shaddaa moves at it's own pace. As it always has and most likely always will.
Right now it's a lazy trickle of activity, in that pristine moment between working hours that only holds people looking to return to their own homes or getting up to go to their jobs. The perfect time while most clients are down for the count, from alcohol or drugs or sex. The calm before the next rising storm. At the very least, it makes it easier to navigate the many winding streets to her destination without the hustle of crowds.
She makes her way calmly and evenly to one of the more rundown districts. No rush in her steps, nothing to give away she's anything other than a bounty hunter looking for their next job. The bounty hunter's guild that she finds here is rundown, looking more and more like a rival guild or someone with a lot of money is being very stupid by trying to push them out of business.
It won't happen of course, there will always be someone out there in the galaxy who needs someone-else dead. Credits will flow it's way to this guild no matter what anyone else says.
Still… it feels off to enter a guild and find it with only a handful of patrons.
Arla grimaces beneath the safety of her bucket, steadily make her way to a table that's been set up in one of the darker corners of the establishment. Sitting heavily in the uncomfortable metal chair, ignoring the looks that shoot her way. Sight line clear on the doorway and everyone else around her.
She stays there, one hand on her gun as her other sits placidly upon the table. Waiting patiently.
No one bothers her. No one comes up to ask if she's looking for a job or if she wants a drink. There's something almost forbidden in the air. As if she's broken some unspoken code.
It's close to an hour before a man takes the seat across from her. Deep hood pulled over his head far enough that it's hard to make out any part of his face. The most she can see is scarred lips and a clean shaven chin. Human most likely but in truth you can never really know for sure.
She doesn't know if this is her contact or some idiot trying to get one over on her. So she settles back against her chair, head tilted and waiting for whatever he has to say.
"You Fett?" He asks, straight to the point.
"One of them."
She can see his scarred lips frown before they even out into something more neutral. "You won't find what you're looking for here."
"I will." Words spoken with absolute conviction. It's here. She's here. There's no doubt in Arla's mind and she's willing to do anything to find her. "And if you try to stop me you'll find that I'm not an easy target." Her hand shifts, curls not on her gun but on the sheathed beskar knife at her hip near it. It's a nasty one, does the job nice and fast against an up close opponent before they can ever get a shot off.
She's going to find the woman who has haunted her dreams since that moment they changed reality, as Arla has known it, together and no one is going to stop her.
His head tilts. Listening for something, or maybe just hearing something she's not. "There's danger moving in fast. You sure you want to get involved in something that'll put a target on your back?"
"I've been involved since the day I woke up and realized everything was different."
He huffs before he slides a bounty puck over to her. "Good hunting then." Stands with no intention to draw this out any longer than he already has.
It's too easy, she thinks as she eyes him. There's a suspicion in the back of her mind too. Something that tells her that there's more to him than meets the eye.
"May the Kara guide your steps." It's close enough to be an old Mandalorian saying but that's not what she's going for at all. Not when it makes him pause in surprise a smile flickering across his lips.
He nods. "And with you." Then he's gone like he'd barely existed in the first place.
Arla sits on a bed, in a rented room, in the only establishment she trusts. Armour off as she stares at the puck in her hand. She knows what's on it even if she hasn't had the courage to turn it on. Her thumb rubs over it as she bites her lip. The fact that the man, that she has no doubt is a Jedi, even trusted her with it should be suspicious.
They're myths nowadays. Tall tales told to children about heroes who'd show up out of nowhere and save the day. Bring peace to worlds at war. Bring healing to those who are plagued with illness after illness.
One day they had existed; in their temples for all to see. Then the next they'd been gone as if they had been ghosts that had been exorcised from existence. It had happened long before Arla was even born but she's always known they where out there. Her buir makes it hard not to know even when she remembers a reality where they were still around causing trouble. Fighting in wars that will never happen now.
The problem, though, is that her and her family are not the only one who believe that they're still out there. The Empire's bounty on them seems to rise each year and as far as Arla knows no one's taken the bait. Or at least they never lived long enough to tell anyone else that they'd given information to the Empire.
She doubts it though. Jedi keep to themselves, no normal person would have any information on the their whereabouts.
Except her.
The puck in her hand feels heavy with a weight she knows she needs to respect. What she's doing will set things in motion, set the galaxy changing once again. Only this time she'll be at the head of this change, fully aware of the consequences should she fail or should she succeed.
Arla presses the puck to her lips. Closes her eyes and imagines pressing them against orange skin. Of worshiping a woman she has only seen in dreams. She may not know her Jedi's name but she knows one thing for certain.
She'll do whatever it takes to bring about the world the woman desires and deserves. After all, she's given Arla the greatest gift she could ever want.
Her brother. Her father.
Her family.
Her home.
What's taking down an Empire compared to that?
There's something in the atmosphere that makes Arla want to jump out of her skin. A feeling that itches in the back of her head screaming danger over and over again. She walks forward, refuses to fall into the urge to look behind her and instead focuses on her hud. Something's happening or something's happened but she doesn't know what.
And she's not the only one who can feel it.
Arla can see the response to the growing dread like it's a wave of inevitability that's crashing down on everyone around her. The homeless population on the street scatter deeper into the shadows. The gang members and hardened criminal's alike grip their blasters and shift uneasily. Nar Shaddaa is holding it's breath waiting for the bubble of peace to pop.
Her hand tightens on her own blaster as she walks just a bit faster towards her destination. It's closer to Empire territory than she'd like but it's not like the Jedi ever planned for the Empire to take over that small section of Nar Shaddaa. Even the Hutts hadn't expected to relinquish the territory. But here they are and here they stay. Rats no one has had the courage to kill or defy.
The Republic had fallen over twenty years ago to a power grab by a man who Arla thinks should have been shot dead on the spot. There's nothing in the Galaxy that the Empire hasn't played some kind of part in. Every bit of war since they've come to power has had their name carved into it. Buying out the side's they want to win and crushing the other's beneath their boots.
Even her own home has felt the pressure of the Empire breathing down their necks. Throwing in with Death Watch, like they're not likely at all to turn on the Empire if they get the chance.
She feels herself snort in disgust as she turns the last corner she needs to take. Only to find her steps faltering to a stop. The bright glaring sign that's come into view is so obvious that she can't help the scoff of laughter as she reads it.
The Kara.
Because some Jedi out there either has a sense of humor or thought she'd need as obvious a sign as possible.
Truly it's so on the nose that she can't help the roll of her eyes.
She takes the steps up to the open door, giving a quick glance at her hud. No extra's following her steps as far as she can tell. Arla let's the tension in her ease just a bit.
As she enters the bar her helmet filters are immediately hit with the smell of smoke and incense. Red lined curtains decorate the short hallway to a set that block the rest of the way. It's easily pushed aside to reveal a room more fit to be a brothel than a bar. Arla in all honesty hadn't known what to expect, but it certainly wasn't this.
"What can I get you?" A plump short twilek woman asks, drawing Arla's attention to the bar. Her pink and purple skin light enough that she stands out amongst the sea of reds and dark oranges. She leans against the bar counter, a necklace with a heavy pendent the looks like a ball of wires hanging free from her neck.
There's only the two of them in the room, no other patrons having found their way in just yet and no other workers in sight. It should make her uneasy. Wary of walking into a trap but instead she finally feels like she's almost there.
"I'm looking for someone," Arla says with confidence. This woman knows where to find what she's looking for, she's certain of it. "Fulcrum."
The woman gives her an almost startled look. "Oh," she hesitates, grey eyes glancing behind Arla before they sweep the room. Those eyes come right back to Arla with a look of quiet determination. She nods motioning for Arla to follow. "You're earlier than she said you'd be."
Arla's breath comes out in a rush. Her Jedi has been waiting for Arla. She knew she'd come for her. Arla hadn't even dared to dream that it was a feeling that went both ways. Her steps are quick to follow the twilek, an eagerness that is perhaps a bit too obvious when the woman looks back at her with a raised brow ridge.
"How did you know to come anyway?" The woman asks, "I didn't think anyone would. At least, not in my lifetime."
Arla shrugs. "A dream." Which is possibly the craziest thing she's ever said. "Wait, what do you mean in your lifetime?"
"She's been asleep for hundred's of years. Long before you or I where born."
Arla blinks. Centuries. Holy fucking hells. "I… was not aware of that." She says slowly. Her Jedi waited centuries for Arla to wake her.
Fuck. That's…
Silence falls between them as Arla ruminates on that. Her body on auto pilot as she follows the woman into a backroom, then through a door hidden within the wall to a set of steps that go deeper down into the establishment. She takes the steps down with a rising feeling of trepidation and a growing sense of hope.
Another room, the door heavy with a metal she immediately recognizes as beskar. Something that would be almost near impossible to get through. The woman types into a keypad. The door opens with a rush of released air.
Arla steps into a nearly freezing room so cold that she can feel it through her layers of armor and clothes. Before her stands a cryopod. It's glass frosted over and within lies the blurry form of the woman she'd meet so long ago in the in between of everything.
Her gloved hand touches the cooled glass. Wipes away the layer of frost the blurs the woman's image to reveal her in detail. She's barely changed at all.
In fact the only difference is her clothes. More armor than the robes Arla had first seen her in, the clothes beneath darker in color this time around. Closer to a deep blue that reminds Arla of an armor she's never worn in this life.
"I'll give you a moment." The woman says from behind her. "The thawing process activated as soon as I put the code into the door. It'll take a few hours but…" She pauses, her breath in-drawn and voice one of awe. "She'll be awake soon."
Arla nods her head in understanding, gaze stuck on her Jedi. She barely even notices the sound of steps disappearing up the stairs.
"I finally found you." She whispers so quiet her helmet's mic barely picks it up. "After all this time, you've just been here. Waiting for me."
Arla waits and watches.
The process is a long one but it's understandable if she's read the situation right. A hundreds of years on ice means the process needs to make sure her Jedi's vitals are all functioning as they should be as each one comes back to life. Still, Arla has never been a very patient woman when what she wants is right in front of her.
Fulcrum. A name she only knows because of the bounty puck she's since destroyed. It's not her Jedi's real name. She knows that with certainty. But it's close enough to one.
Somehow it fits so perfectly into the shape of the togruta woman before her. She's the point at which everything changed and will continue to change.
Arla breathes. In and out. Steadies herself because right now there's a growing tightening in her posture. Anxiety? Maybe. It's been so long since she's met her Jedi in person. So long since she's touched her, felt the warmth of her skin against the palm of her hand.
Something feels off about it. Feels more like that growing dread she'd felt as she walked here. She shifts uneasily. Focuses on the countdown timer.
There's a snap. In her head, in her being. The breaking of a damn and sudden flooding of fear that feels like everyone and hers combined.
There's a clattering behind Arla, she turns gun raised only to find the twilek woman who'd led her here frantically entering the room. She's lost a shade of color and blood drips down left her arm. Arla instincts are already on edge and now they're at the forefront.
"You have to go now. The Empire is here!"
Arla blinks, focuses for a moment on her surroundings and realizes that she'd missed the sound of gunfire that's erupted upstairs while she'd been entranced by watching her Jedi. An explosion, far enough off that it tells Arla it's a situation that's about to get worse but they've got at least some time. She curses under her breath.
Of course the Empire is here. Arla has found the one thing they've has been looking for and now they're going to try and rip it away from her.
The woman quickly moves to the pods control system that's been putting up diagnostics as her Jedi has been defrosting. She types in a single command, the pod makes a warning sound, another line of code and the process begins to go faster. "It'll only take a few moments now, but she'll be too disoriented to be of any help once she's out."
The gunfire is growing closer, the sound of someone speaking over a speaker. The Empire must be desperate if they're moving further in on Hutt territory. They're practically knocking on the Hutt's front door and deciding to storm the place without waiting for an answer. She almost wonder's if this is what they did the first time they got their claws into Nar Shaddaa.
The twilek woman looks back, spine straight her shoulders set. "Get her out of her once she unfreezes. Go back up the stairs and take a left in the hallway. There will be a door near the end, put in the code 36723. It'll lead you to the back alley." She breathes in once, closes her eyes and swallows before she nods her head in determination. "I'll hold them off for as long as possible."
Arla eyes the woman. A part of her wonders if she's the reason the Empire is here, but then her eye catches on the necklace the Twilek snaps from her neck. The wired trinket unwinds within her hand, a crystal that gleams a bright blue for a moment before it's quickly encased in other pieces drawn from the woman's person. The lightsaber lights.
Another Jedi.
"Wait." She reaches out, grabbing the woman's arm. "The whole point of this is to not let the Empire catch a kriffing Jedi."
The woman laughs and shakes her head. "Fulcrum knew the Empire was coming long before it ever came. She's the important one. The only way to defeat them is through what she knows." She places a gentle hand over Arla's, squeezing it. "Thank you you, though. It's kind of you to care."
Arla stares at that hand, swallowing roughly before she let's go. "May the Force be with you." The words come to her on instinct. A mimicry of what she'd done only days before with another Jedi. It gets her a surprised glance back and a bitter smile.
"And with you." She's gone without another look back.
Arla will never know her name.
Her breath hitches as she turns back the cryopod. Watching it with apprehension as it's lights go red and a warning sound rings through the room. A blast of cold air escapes from the release valves. The lid that keeps Fulcrum encased doesn't open. Her eyes flutter open, blinks dazed and unable to do much of anything . A hand comes up and rest on the glass like it's the only thing holding her up.
Arla curses under her breath, punches the lid that refuses to budge. The ground under her feet shakes as another explosion goes off. There's not enough time to try and fix whatever issue is keeping it stuck. She grabs her knife from the sheath strapped to her side. Stabs it in hard enough for the knife to slide through and leave thousands of splintering cracks. She pulls it out, punches again and the glass shatters around her fist.
Fulcrum drops forward into Arla's arms, not fully awake or aware. But Arla can feel her breathing, can see the way she shakes from the cold. She scoops her Jedi up into a bridal carry, runs from the room and up the steps, following the directions that had been given to her.
The city air feels like fire compared to the shivering figure that's in her arms.
She runs until the firefight is but a distant sound among many. Just one more street fight among dozens with only a few aware of what actually transpired.
Ahsoka walks through a jungle. The humid air sticking to her skin even as a light drizzle of rain washes it away. The purple leaves and brush stand stark against the orange of the ground. The wild life here is scarce enough that she can barely sense the animals that move only a few miles away from her.
"This is new." Her friend says as she walks beside her.
Ahsoka glances at her with a smile, the Mandalorian has her helmet off this time. Long blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun and brown skin showing no sign that she feels the environment as Ahoska does.
"I'm looking for a temple."
"In a jungle." Her friend makes a face of disgust. "Really?"
"You know, I think you've complained about every single place I go too." She laughs. There's a different kind of warmth here. One filled with familiarity. Her Mandalorian has stayed with her through all these years. They're separated by hundreds maybe even thousands of years and yet nothing could ever truly separate them now that their fates are entwined.
"Well, you never take me anywhere nice. I've got a right to complain." Her friend says as she attempts to kick a rock, only for her boot to go straight through it. She makes another face at that. "See can't even do anything here."
Ahsoka snorts and rolls her eyes in exasperation. "And where do you consider nice?"
"Somewhere I can actually kick things." She jokes before she pauses, looking away with an air of embarrassment. "Keldabe." She says quietly. Home, she doesn't say at all.
"Maybe you can take me there one day. After all, I'm the one taking you everywhere nowadays, aren't I? I think it's your turn to take me somewhere."
She laughs, a bright happy thing that's always been for Ahsoka alone. "Just need to find you first."
