#brooke does fictober22

[ohlawsons]

fictober day 1: i chose you [rei/theron] set during umbara, ft. redemption arc rei! remember when i said it would be a fun au and less angsty than canon

“I gave up everything for you.” There’s something colder than rage, sharper than grief in Rei’s voice, and all those months of training and meditating and learning in the Jedi Enclave can’t hold back the way she embraces the sudden rush of darkness. It’s almost instinctual, and if it weren’t Theron standing opposite her, she doesn’t know that she could force it back down. “My home. My titles and status. Everything.”

Her voice cracks and falters and breaks, and for a moment she thinks Theron hesitates — but then it’s gone, and that hard, determined set of his jaw is back and the familiar warmth in his eyes is replaced with something like apathy. “I know. And what good has it done? Just look at Iokath, all that bloodshed, everything the Alliance has done in your name since.” He pauses as Lana cuts him off, but Rei’s too focused, too frozen in shock and disbelief, to hear what she says. “We’re supposed to be allied with the Republic, but we’re no better than the Empire. Somebody has to stand up and do something about it.”

His words hit her like a ton of durasteel, because he’s right, isn’t he? She’s claimed to stand with the Republic, but her single-minded hunt for the traitor in the wake of Iokath would’ve made Sith Intelligence look tame. And her training with the Jedi? The bitter rage festering within her — the way her empty hand clenches, as if she can physically feel and mold the darker sides of the Force and employ it to her will — is proof enough that the lessons don’t stick.

Perhaps, she thinks, she’ll never be more than the girl in the fighting pits, clawing and fighting for every last scrap.

“But I chose you.” Her voice is quiet, and small, barely audible over the rush of the train around them. “Isn’t that enough?”

“This isn’t about us. It’s not even about the Republic and the Empire — it’s bigger than that.” He’s pacing, now, and up until a few moments ago Rei would’ve assumed he’s gathering his thoughts, expending excess energy in the best way he knows how. There’s a hand on her shoulder — it’s Lana, eyes alight with power and rage and a tenacity that Rei has been trying to give up since she began her training with the Jedi. “This is about the endless cycle of war,” Theron continues, steps slowing as he turns towards the two Sith — ex Sith, or whatever it is that they are, now. “Needless, senseless fighting that I thought we would put an end to after we took down Valkorion. But all you’ve done is make it worse. And I’ve helped you.”

It’s not really sinking in, all the things he’s saying, but as Rei watches the way he stops and turns and reaches for his blaster, her mind races to try and comprehend such a thought that so much of the last several months have been leading up to… this. “I loved you.” It’s almost a question, the way she says it, head tilting to the side as she considers the words even as she speaks them; she thinks she’d said the same thing, all those years ago, to Zash before she’d struck her down. Then, it had been a plea — now, a quiet, curious thought spoken aloud.

Theron doesn’t respond, not aloud; his brow furrows and Rei thinks she can sense, for just a fraction of a second, something like regret that washes over him, but then his blaster’s out and Lana’s slamming her out of the way and the train seems to explode around them. When she gathers herself again — when things stop spinning around her and she’s dusting off the deep indigo Umbaran dirt from her robes — she feels a brief, firm hand at her back in what she assumes Lana means as comfort.

“Come on.” Her words are terse, clipped; there’s a low hum of the dark side that radiates from Lana, more vibrant and exposed than Rei is used to with her. “He went that way,” Lana continues, one hand at her brow to shield her eyes and the other pointing off towards their right. “We can still cut him off if we hurry.”

…

She hadn’t bothered with pleasantries when she’d returned to Odessen. Lana was left to handle the official business — which was fine with Rei; she didn’t know how to put into words everything that had happened — while Rei marched off to the Force Enclave, practically dragging a protesting Kira back to her quarters.

There’s traces of him all over. A shirt thrown haphazardly over the back of a chair. A chipped mug from some tourist-y garden world sent by Jonas one year as a gag gift. A datapad, idling on the bedside table. Rei ignores it.

“The Jedi call for peace,” she says, leading Kira over towards an empty chair and motioning for her to sit. “A lack of emotion,” she reasons, beginning to pace as Kira watches on with a quiet, concerned frown. “And this brings power?”

Kira’s brow furrows, and she takes a long, slow look at Rei before answering. “That’s… not really how it works, no. Look, Commander, what happened—“

“Then what is the point,” she snaps, “if the Code does not create stronger Jedi? Why else would anyone follow it? If the Code calls for no emotion,” she reasons, voice growing louder and more insistent as she raises up one hand to count on her fingers, “no passion, and no death — then it’s the very antithesis of what the Sith believe, and yet the Jedi seem to think themselves a match for the Sith.”

There’s a beat of silence as Kira leans back in her chair to watch her with a flat stare, arms crossed, as if waiting to see if Rei’s brief outburst is finished. “It’s the opposite of the Sith, yeah. And the point isn’t power, it’s… clarity.” She falters, almost imperceptibly, but her frown goes unnoticed by Rei — still furiously pacing across the room. “The dark side tends to cloud things.”

“Clarity.” Rei’s footsteps slow to a stop, and she sits in the middle of the couch opposite where Kira is, allowing herself a few moments to let the word roll around in her mind; something about Kira’s simple explanation makes more sense to her than any of the self-righteous preaching from any of the other Jedi who have attempted to train her, and Rei gives a slow nod. “I think I understand.”

Kira leans forward, some of her distaste turned to concern and curiosity. “What happened out there?” The room is quiet, and when Rei offers no response, Kira adds, “Theron was my friend, too, so if something’s happened to him—“

“He’s fine.” Rage begins to bubble up within Rei, a familiar warmth that she’d so long sought out in comfort; with a stubborn sort of intention, she forces herself to push it back down, to swallow back the heat and stifle it before it can grow. If this is what it means to be a Jedi, she thinks, to push aside everything that has brought her strength and power for so long — since before she even knew what the Sith code was — then this is what she’ll do in her search for clarity. Perhaps her mind has been too long clouded by rage and grief — from scars held from her childhood, the betrayal by Zash, Thanaton striking her down as she began her ascent through Sith hierarchy, Arcann taking everything from her before she had the chance to return the favor.

She doesn’t know that clarity could’ve kept Theron from leaving. But, perhaps, clarity will keep her from losing any more.