Jingyan held his strategist’s hand. It was so cold.
Mei Changsu had been lying unconscious for four days now since emerging from the Xuanjing Bureau. The man’s physician, Yan, has been working furiously to mitigate the effects of the Wujin pill.
Jingyan tried to avoid looking at his advisor’s exposed skin, poking out from his sleeves and chest where acupuncture needles stood out like knives. The purple stripes around his neck made Jingyan’s own heart feel like it had been stabbed many times over.
He was the one who insisted Wei Zheng had to be saved. He spoke such grand words of loyalty and honor, but was willing to throw his own man into the arms of Xia Jiang instead of protecting him.
It had never occurred to Jingyan that the master strategist and Divine Talent needed his protection too.
Zakuul did not make idle threats. True to Larill’s word, Coruscant awakened one morning a week after the demand for the two missing Republic assets to see the Eternal Fleet surrounding the capital planet ominously.
In the quarters of the Supreme Chancellor, Saresh paced back and forth before the window, staring out at the ships through the transparisteel. Though she would never confess it to any followers or rivals, fear clenched around the Twi’lek’s heart. She remembered too vividly the initial siege of Coruscant during the war two years ago. The damage had been catastrophic, the casualties horrific. Even without the heavy tribute the Republic currently paid to Zakuul, the recovery process from that war would have been slow and painful. The tributes ensured it progressed at a crawl.
It went against the Republic’s principles to surrender their assets and war heroes to their enemies, but Saresh had more than two people to think about. She had trillions of lives at stake now, under her leadership. For that reason alone, she dearly wished she had either Shan or Taerich to surrender over to Zakuul. Better to let two people die, she thought, than to let civilians come under fire, even if one of those people was a Jedi Master. She shouldn’t complain about that, though. Don’t Jedi go on and on about sacrificing themselves for the good of the many?
And Shan -- the man was damned good at his job, Saresh had to admit, even if he was an idiot. The SIS was going to hurt without him. The SIS is already hurting without him. And Master Taerich’s absence was already a blow to the Jedi Order’s remnants.
They can’t rebuild the Order or save the Republic. I need to save my people. Saresh scowled and stormed out of her quarters. It was past time for a sit-down with Director Trant and Commander Malcom: She had to try and drag Shan’s location out of either of them. Even if she only found one, it was likely the other would be nearby; if they were separated, having even one of them in Zakuul’s clutches might be enough to loosen the stranglehold on the Republic. She was certain that either Trant or Malcom had leads to Shan’s location — the hardest part would be dragging the information about Malcom’s bastard son out of him.
She paused, pursing her lips. The absence of Shan’s mother, the respected former Grand Master, was conspicuous. It also made Saresh more than a little nervous: If she and Malcom were working together, it would not be the first time the two had colluded against her. Was she supporting her son? The rebel movement? Had the losses finally caught up with her and sent her as crazy as her own master? Saresh had no way of knowing. For that reason alone, we should get intel on Master Shan’s location, she mused. If Malcom legitimately doesn’t know where his son is, maybe she will. And if she’s given her son up once before for the good of the Republic, perhaps she’ll do it again.
When Xaja had been fifteen, she’d come down with a terrible case of pneumonia that left her bedridden for over a week and made Master Allende fret like she’d never seen the older woman worry before. Then, she thought that was virtually the worst illness anyone could experience and still survive it.
Xaja could still vaguely remember the feverish misery of being ill then, and when compared to her current peril, decided that her teenaged self had had it lucky. The poison slowly killing her hurt far more. This time, she didn’t have a Jedi sitting at her bedside trying to help her meditate the discomfort away and patiently administering medication to her ill student, safe within the Dantooine Enclave. This time, she was relatively secure on Dromund Kaas, under the protection of one of the Dark Council and the commander of Sith Intelligence. Even if her father and brother’s pooled resources couldn’t save her life, she was at least safe and protected for now, and Theron and Doc would be safe, no matter what.
She gingerly stretched out her back and winced at a twinge to her muscles. Only a minor one this time, but still worrying enough for the ill Jedi. She stayed still a moment, long enough to confirm her back wasn’t going to seize up again, then settled back down with the novel she was reading. Over the last two years, her favourite author had finally updated his epic saga; it was fortunate Sorand also loved the Throne Games and obsessively collected the holonovels, and had all but shoved the latest edition into her hands before he could risk dropping a spoiler.
“Still doing okay?” Theron’s voice rumbled his chest beside Xaja’s ear. When she glanced up, he was looking down at her with worry in his hazel eyes. The hand that wasn’t holding a datapad on his lap gently smoothed over her shoulder. “Do I need to yell for Kimble or Lokin?”
The two doctors were already running themselves into the ground, trying to find a workaround for the cure in case Shara couldn’t get the venom in time. Xaja shook her head and snuggled into Theron’s shoulder. “No, I’m okay. It felt more like a normal knot than anything else.” Perhaps not quite true, but she found no point in lying to him about that.
Theron raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?” He gently tapped at her forehead; Xaja remembered belatedly that he could feel her through their bond as well as she could sense his presence in her mind, warm, bright, and soothing. “That felt worse than a knot.”
“But not as bad as some of the other ones.” Xaja tugged Theron’s hand down from her forehead and gently squeezed it. “I’m alright, I promise. I’d tell you if it was bad.”
“I get the feeling you wouldn’t have a say in the matter if it was that bad,” Theron finally acquiesced. He gently kissed Xaja’s hair, but his frown lingered. “Did we ever figure out what this…” he gestured again between their foreheads. “… was? Or how it formed?”
Xaja shook her head. “I don’t know. All I remember is reaching out to find you on Rishi, and then lost my control on the Force when…”
“Hmmm. I remember that.” Theron made a face and started carding his fingers through Xaja’s loose hair. “Surprise migraines aren’t fun for anyone. I was so confused…”
“Yeah… sorry.” Xaja winced. “If you want, Theron, I… well, I might not be able to break the bond right now, but I could—”
“No.”
“What?”
“No, I don’t want this bond broken. It was a surprise, but when I know it’s you on the other end, I don’t want to lose this.” Theron hesitated, his hand briefly pausing in her hair. “But, if you want rid of this —”
A rush of relief that Xaja hadn’t known she was waiting for suddenly washed through her in a burst. She snuggled into Theron’s chest and rested her hand on his stomach. “Not in the least. You being connected like this to me makes it hurt less.” She wondered if Theron could sense the times that she’d reached for their bond and clung on tightly to his light while she struggled through the pain of another muscle seizure.
“I’m glad,” Theron murmured as he kissed her hair again. The arm he had around her shoulder tightened, and Xaja felt a wave of something warm and gentle and intoxicating that she wanted but couldn’t name drifting out from him. “I’ve already lost you once. I’ll do anything to keep from losing you again.”
“Theron…” Xaja snuggled closer to him, for a second desperately needing the security his solid, warm figure gave to her. She knew it was a terrible risk right now, that her life was in the balance, and the only thing between her and death was Shara’s speed and luck in finding the Quesh venom. “If this… if everything here fails and I don’t make it—”
“You will.” Theron put his datapad down and shifted so he could face Xaja directly, cradling her face in his large, callused hands. She sighed as she absorbed the warmth of his skin, felt the gentle tug of his thumbs as he ran the pads over her cheekbones. “Xaja, please. We’re gonna get that venom and make the serum to save you. Just hold on for us — for me. I need you.”
“You don’t need me, Theron.” Not as much as I need you. Xaja slid her hands up Theron’s chest to rest behind his neck. “Even if I don’t… if this fails, you’ll recover, move on.”
“No. I didn’t the first time I lost you. I can’t now. I wouldn’t be able to move on and find someone else if…”
She’d always wondered if he’d met someone else during those two long years that she had been a prisoner, presumed dead by the rest of the galaxy. But if he knew where you were and was planning on getting you… did he know you were alive? “It was over two years, Theron. There wasn’t anyone else who… not even a one-night-stand or…?”
Theron shook his head. “I couldn’t even look at anyone else, not while I didn’t have you. Nobody else was you, Xaja. Nobody else ever will be you.” He pressed his forehead against hers, and Xaja felt a wave of emotions flood from him into her mind — griefpainlovesorrowlovewantlove. “And when you’re the only one I want… nobody else will ever be good enough.”
If the emotions she felt weren’t enough to take the breath from her lungs, his words certainly were. Xaja blinked against the sudden hot sensation behind her eyes, all ability to speak stolen away from her. She contented herself with pulling his head down lower and pressing a kiss against his mouth, one he willingly responded to. Her mental shields slipped away and she let her own feelings push back into his mind — loveaffectionsadnesslovegratefulnesslove. “I love you too, Theron,” she whispered against his lips, a second before Theron had pulled her closer against him and kissed her harder. Even if he couldn’t say the words audibly, he could still make them undeniably clear in his actions as he lowered himself back into the bed, pulling her along with him.
The seizure hit her back again as they moved, enough to make her yelp in pain. Theron quickly pulled his mouth away from hers, eyes wide. “Shit, where--?” His hand rested on the epicentre of the pain and started gently massaging the muscles there. “I'm sorry, did I hurt you? Do you need one of the doctors?”
Xaja tried to shake her head, but the pain flared again, hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. She almost didn't hear Theron grab his comm, or feel Doc enter the room and carefully roll her over to inject another dose of drugs into her arm. She barely was aware of Theron gently stroking her hair and soothingly murmuring gentle words as she faded into unconsciousness, his fear the last thing she sensed.
It was almost two days later. Theron sighed worriedly as he tugged a blanket up higher over Xaja’s thin shoulders, watching the sleeping Jedi tremble from a cold only she could feel. She’s running out of time. No matter that she’d promised Theron she’d keep trying to fight, or that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt now that she cared for him, maybe even loved him as much as he loved her… the willpower of a sick Jedi only went so far.
Even combining her stubbornness with the medical knowledge of two highly-trained doctors, the healing abilities of one of the strongest Sith alive, and Theron’s own desperate need for her to survive, it wasn’t proving to be enough. She’s running out of time. If Shara wasn’t back within the next day, it would be too late for anything short of a miracle.
The spy stepped back as Kimble knelt next to the couch, running a scanner over Xaja’s dozing form. He didn’t need to read the results of the scan to see the medic’s shoulders slump, as disheartened as Theron himself felt, and couldn’t even feel jealous when the other man gently rubbed Xaja’s shoulder. “Hang in there, Red,” he muttered as he slowly stood back up. “I know being in Sith Central can’t be helping on the Forcie end of the spectrum…”
“Would even being on Tython help at this point?” Theron quietly asked.
“Probably not.” Kimble shrugged tiredly. “But all the Dark Side… stuff…” He waved his hand in the air as though to indicate the Sithly influence on everything that made up Dromund Kaas. “It can’t be comfortable for a Light Side user like her. She had a headache for two kriffing days the last time we were here.”
“And you were here for what, three hours? If not less?”
“Somethin’ like that.” Kimble sighed heavily. “Get some rest, Shan. I’ve got enough with one patient, I don’t wanna have to look after a second if you keel over from exhaustion.”
“And you’re not about to yourself?” Theron retorted. The medic looked awful, with dark bags under his eyes, a pale pallor to his cheeks, and an unkempt amount of stubble on his face. Apparently there were, in fact, a few things that required Kimble’s attention more than his appearance.
“I got a nap in earlier.” Kimble shrugged. “Besides, she won’t be happy if you pass out.”
Theron signed in defeat. “Fine, I’ll take a nap.” He waited for Kimble to nod and step away from Xaja’s side, then moved back to the couch and carefully squirmed between her and the back of said couch. Xaja stirred slightly with Theron’s motions, but didn’t awaken, even when Theron slid his arms around her and gently tugged her against his chest. The spy kissed her hair, then looked up to see Kimble’s disbelieving expression. “What?”
“That wasn’t --” Kimble threw his hands up in defeat. “I give up. Yell if something happens.”
“Will do.” Theron snuggled in as Kimble finally moved out of the room, slowly stroking his fingers through Xaja’s hair and fighting the urge to just close his eyes. She’d already had one severe seizure that morning, targeting her abdomen again, and Lokin had had to fight to keep her alive when she'd stopped breathing for a few minutes (Theron suspected Reanden was still shaking. He hadn't needed the Force to feel the old man's panic.). If she had another attack and he was asleep for it… I can’t lose you. Not again, Xaja. Theron pressed his lips against her temple. It was so cruel that the Force should give her back to him after two long years, only to threaten to rip her away from him again so soon. I need more than a month with her. Years… decades… a lifetime. He gently kissed her hair again and rested his hand over her reassuringly-beating heart. Please… please....
Doc scowled down at the table in the laboratory, and the half-empty vial of serum resting on the flat surface. It was hard to tell if his glare came from Theron being… well, being Theron, or from the continued failures of his and Lokin’s combined geniuses to find a workaround for the absent, desperately-needed cure. This last batch had only held off Xaja’s symptoms for a couple of hours before they resurged, worse than ever. Lokin suspected there had already been permanent damage done to the Jedi’s nervous system. At this point, it was simply a fight for her life -- fixing the long-term effects would be a bonus.
If, of course, they could find some damn accidental cure that didn’t need the Quesh venom. Of course you would have the most difficult medical condition that would need the most rare ingredients for treatment, Red, he silently griped. Like being kriffing dead for two years wasn’t enough.
“If Tatooine wasn’t so far away, I would suggest perhaps looking into sarlacc venom,” Lokin mused, off to Doc’s left. Despite their differing origins and affiliations, the two doctors had found a common ground and a companionable working relationship -- not quite friends, but hey, Doc would take what he could get. “There has to be something in the venom to force victim longevity…”
“Would that be a cure, or would that just force her to keep living in pain like this?” Doc stroked a hand over his mustache in thought. “I think she would hate living like this more than dying.”
“She would hold on if her father convinced her to, or Agent Shan.” Lokin shook his head. “It’s an irrelevant point anyway. Intelligence’s stores don’t have the sarlacc venom, and not even Agent Taerich can fly to Tatooine and back in enough time to save her.”
Doc sighed, ran his hands through his hair, and let loose with a long and colourful stream of expletives he’d picked up while working with the Balmorran Resistance, all those years ago.
“I agree.” Lokin frowned in thought. “Perhaps if we adjusted the amounts of --”
The front door of the apartment slid open, and a crash echoed through the residence. “Hey, I’m gonna need a hand with this!” came a familiar, and welcome, yell from down the hallway.
“Shara?” Doc whirled and hurried to the foyer of the apartment, only remembering he was supposed to be hidden when he saw the enormous Houk lugging a canister along behind the Mandalorian. He darted back out of sight as Lokin pushed past him -- hopefully the Houk hadn’t seen him, distracted as he was with the canister.
“You’re a welcome sight for sore eyes, Ms. Verhayc,” Lokin agreed as his footsteps moved in Shara’s direction. “Is that…?”
“One jar a’ Quesh venom, pure as the day it got pumped outta the atmosphere.” There was the sound of what sounded like a helmet being plunked on a table. “Your victim still breathin’ and all?”
“Yes, for the moment. You’re not a day too soon.” Lokin sounded almost gleeful as Doc hurried back to the stairs leading up to the living area, and to where Theron was probably fretting himself into ulcers over Xaja. This was desperately-needed good news, and he could feel a jolt of hope rush through his chest despite Dromund Kaas’ ever-present darkness. “Would you terribly mind contacting Darth Imperius and letting him know? We have a cure to synthesize!”
“How many places could they appear at in a week after vanishing into thin air?” Koth Vortena stretched out in his chair and scrolled through the latest updates on Zakuul’s Most Wanted. “They’re three humans, not time travellers.”
Lana shook her head as she followed the reports on her own datapad. She’d gotten the encrypted message from Reanden Taerich a few days ago and knew that all three fugitives were secure with the Sith Intelligence Commander, possibly somewhere in Imperial Space; but she couldn’t say that. “This one from the Telos colony is dreadful. It’s like they didn’t even look at the images.”
“Yeah, I think this one got mixed up as to who’s got red hair and who’s got dark hair.” Koth lowly whistled through his teeth. “Here’s another one from Bespin — I don’t even have to know them to know that’s wrong.”
Lana craned her neck to look at the report in question. “Yes, no, the redhead doesn’t have a mustache.” She sighed. “I can almost hear her reaction to that…”
Koth paused in his reading and looked at Lana. “You said you knew all three of them from before the war broke out. Are they… do you think the charges on them are true?”
“I only really knew Doctor Kimble in passing,” Lana said. “He was one of Master Taerich’s friends — it’s only reasonable that he would be helping them. But as for the others — I don’t believe Theron Shan could be a terrorist if his life depended on it. He’s always had a bit of a weak spot where the risks of civilian casualties were concerned.” She paused for a moment in thought. “Doing idiotic things to rescue or protect Master Taerich, on the other hand…”
“They were a thing?”
Lana briefly smiled. “For being a spy and a Jedi, they really weren’t that subtle.” She’d had her suspicions on Rishi, of course, even before she’d walked in on the pair kissing after the joint meeting with Master Shan and Darth Marr. Those suspicions had been confirmed when she’d noticed their absence for a significant amount of time after the battle with Revan. For Theron, a self-professed workaholic with no time for relationships, to obviously be holding a flame for the pretty Jedi two years after her presumed death… yes, they most definitely had been a ‘thing’, and a serious one at that. “They were worse than a couple of teenagers.”
Koth snorted in amusement. “Okay. So he’s got false charges drummed up against him. What about her? Is she really some sort of an assassin?”
Lana rested her elbows on the table in front of her and crossed her fingers under her chin. “She has the skill to be one, certainly. I’ve never seen anyone fight with a lightsaber like she could. But the Jedi Order that she belonged to did not use such measures as assassinations, and she herself was too honourable of a warrior. If she did kill Valkorion, she would have had a reason to do so — and he would have been awake, facing her, and armed.”
“Why would she have killed him though?”
“Considering she’d apparently just been captured by his forces… perhaps she panicked.” It was unlikely for the petite Jedi, but possible. Lana frowned in thought. Had Xaja Taerich’s presumed death been connected with the sudden burst of dark energy from Wild Space that had felt like Vitiate’s destruction? Perhaps Valkorion was a host… no, that’s not possible. He wouldn’t have known about Zakuul. Nobody else did two years ago. “But regardless, she’s not a murderer, and wouldn’t kill without a solid reason to do so.”
Koth frowned and stroked the hair on his chin that he looked to be trying to grow into a goatee. His genes were not in his favour there. “Even if she is… do you really think she’s strong enough to take down Arcann?”
Lana turned to look Koth dead in the eye. He was finally getting used to her unnatural golden eyes, but maintaining extended eye contact seemed to intimidate him. “I watched her take on a demented madman, a legend among both the Jedi and the Sith, where not even our strongest warriors could have beaten him, and walk away victorious. I saw her dance her way through hordes of armed enemies trying to kill her, and come out on the other side with barely a scratch on her, a high kill count behind her. And I watched her fight an incredibly talented Jedi Master who had been possessed by the planet-consuming monster of a Sith ghost, and fought hard enough to both win and break his hold over the Jedi in question. Yes, Xaja Taerich can face Arcann in a fight, and I’m confident that she can beat him.”
Koth didn’t seem to fully believe Lana at her word, but he still nodded. “Okay. So we find these three and get them to the resistance, then work on a plan to get her in so she can take down Arcann, maybe Vaylin too. But first we’ve gotta find them.”
Lana nodded and looked back down at her datapad. She didn’t dare ask Reanden for an update or a location for the fugitives, not when there was too great a chance of messages being intercepted. All she could do was hope that the old spy could keep the three of them safe. Because Xaja Taerich is our best hope for defeating Arcann. What part does Theron play in all of this?
Only hours later, Doc returned to the couch that Xaja had all but claimed as hers. For once, she didn’t notice any tensing of his mouth or a flare of longing when he saw her laying still, her head on Theron’s lap. With this angle she was positioned in, she couldn’t see Theron’s face, but she could feel his weariness over their strange bond, all but see the lines of fatigue streaking through his Force-signature. Her poor spy deserved so much better than this. “Okay, Red,” Doc said as he approached the couch and sat on the edge of the caf table, interrupting Xaja’s musings. “We’ve got it. Your first dose of carbonite poisoning antidote.”
Xaja craned her neck to look at the syringe Doc was holding in a secure container. It looked so innocuous, and yet it was her last hope for survival. “First dose?” she quietly asked, her eyebrows twitching in a frown.
“You’re an advanced-enough case that we think you’re going to need a few rounds of this. Doctor Lokin and I have enough serum for twelve doses… hopefully it shouldn’t take that much.”
“If you’d been given the antidote within an hour of being thawed out,” Lokin explained as he meandered into the room behind Doc, “you would have only needed one dose. There aren’t many reports of a victim surviving as long as you have, Master Taerich, so we’ll monitor your condition and give more treatments as necessary.”
Xaja nodded, glanced up as she felt Theron squeezing her hand reassuringly, and looked back at Doc and Lokin. “How many people have survived this late stage poisoning?” she whispered.
The two doctors looked at each other askance; Xaja felt Theron tense underneath her head. “… You’re the first Jedi to be diagnosed with this severe poisoning,” Lokin finally said. “We don’t have other Force-users to gauge your illness and recovery from.”
“That’s not a reassuring answer,” Xaja muttered.
“Yeah, we know. Sorry.” Doc carefully set the container down beside him and opened it, drawing the syringe out. “So, there’s no nice way to say this, Red: this is going to hurt.”
Xaja made a face at that. Above her, Theron sighed. “And of course, you can’t give her painkillers because it’ll neutralize the antidote,” he grumbled.
“Yep.” Doc’s lips popped the ‘p’ sound. “Like Doctor Lokin said, there haven’t been any other Jedi recorded with this stage of poisoning, but the other accounts of survivors and their medics indicates that it’s going to feel like all of your nerve endings are at once experiencing growing pains and burning.”
“Not too far off from the Force-healing,” Xaja mumbled, remembering the sensation of freezing burns racing up and down her spine. She glanced in the direction of Sorand’s Force-signature. He was nearby, leaning against the wall and worriedly watching the proceedings, a bone-weary Shara beside him. “It’ll be a nice change from ‘always cold’.”
Doc smirked tiredly. “Yeah… you might not think so when this kicks in. Remember how you said you wished you didn’t know me after that incident with the nexu and I had to give you a vaccine, and those antibiotics that we didn’t know you were allergic to, and reset your entire left arm? You’re going to straight-up hate me after this.”
“Not you, Doc.” Xaja gave the medic a tiny smile. “You didn’t poison me.”
“I also didn’t dislocate your arm or offer you as lunch to an angry nexu…”
“… to be entirely fair, wasn’t I sick as hell from those drugs and grumpy because you wouldn’t let me sleep?”
“Yes, and you turn into a walking red-headed nightmare demon when you’re sleep-deprived and in pain.” Doc winced as he prepared the syringe. “Doesn’t bode well for this treatment round.”
“… Sorry.”
“Wait, what was this incident with the nexu?” Theron looked down at Xaja, then at Doc, a frown marring his face. When Xaja glanced away from her lover’s eyes, she could see Sorand tilting his head curiously.
“Ask her about it sometime. I’m sworn to silence on the entire matter, on pain of having the left half of my mustache shaved off. While you’re at it, Shan, can you get her on her stomach? I need access to her back.”
“Can do.” Theron slipped out from under Xaja’s head and stood up from the couch. She felt his warm hands on her as he gently rolled her over and crouched at her head, holding her face in his palms. She reached up and gripped his wrist as she felt Doc carefully lift the hem of her tunic so he could access her back, sure fingers pressing against her spine. Theron gently pressed his forehead against Xaja’s; it almost distracted her from the prick of the needle into her back. “I’ll be right here,” he whispered, his voice taking on the low, gentle pitch that she’d never heard him use for anyone besides her. “Keep holding on to me if it hurts, sweetheart.”
I don’t deserve him. Xaja managed to give Theron a small smile. “What would I do without you?” she murmured.
“… Probably still be frozen.” Theron kissed her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The Jedi smiled and nuzzled her nose against his for a moment before the first twinge of discomfort started, racing up and down her spine. Then another, and another; she could feel it in her limbs, her spine, her brain. It’s not too bad, just uncomfortable was her first thought when the pain started — but then the pulses got faster and faster until it was just one terrible blur of pain, and she couldn’t tell where the epicentre of it was. It was in her back, when she tried to move anything… it was in her hands, when her grip on Theron’s wrist tightened… it was in her lungs when she finally had to breathe despite the pain.
There was only one spot that wasn’t consumed with pain. Xaja flailed around in her mind until she found Theron there, his presence warm and worried but so soothing, and she clung to him in a desperate attempt to escape the agony. Breathe… breathe… Was that her talking to herself, or was that Theron’s low voice? She didn’t feel his thumb brushing away the tears she didn’t know she was shedding. If the seizures had hurt, this healing was agony. She clung hard onto Theron to try and ground herself in the middle of the pain, the pulse of light in her mind that was his presence the only stable warmth she could grasp onto. Breathe…
reverse psychology doesn't work on me. you better have a good long think on that walk, young lady! (do I even have to sign this? nope, didn't think so)
You really don't. I thought long and hard, Mama Bella, I promise.
