#knowing the Star Rail team... this will probably be futile

[cheriafreya]

so like.... things happened 🦊

[rocorambles]

Kinktober Day 22: Glory Hole

Pairing: Japan National Team x Reader x Kuroo 

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Glory Hole, Overstimulation, Gangbang, Subspace

You’ll never understand how Kuroo manages to convince you to do just about anything. Maybe it’s the years of knowing and dating each other, the knowledge that he’d never put you in harm’s way, the undeniable love you know he has for you. Whatever the case is, here you are, heart racing a mile a minute, naked, stuck in a makeshift wall, standing with only your pussy, ass, and legs on display for the entire Japan National Team on one side of the wall while your husband reassuringly kisses you and you instinctively lean into his comforting touch as much as you can with your arms bound to the wall on either side of your head on the other side of the wall, torso bent over, breasts dangling down. 

You’re so distracted by Kuroo’s tongue exploring your mouth, his familiar scent wafting into your nose that it comes as a shock when a calloused hand teasingly gropes your ass cheeks, squeezing them, playfully slapping them a bit, lewdly separating your pussy lips apart. But you wail when two fingers are suddenly plunged into you without preamble, not that you need any foreplay when just the thought of your body being used as nothing but a pair of empty holes for an entire team of handsome, athletic men already has your hole dripping wet. You can guess who’s finger fucking you, the brutality of the pace matching his wicked mouth and the mental image you have of Atsumu smirking as he thrusts his fingers in and out, tips searching for that spongy spot that’ll make you see stars brings you dangerously close to your first climax. 

But before you can reach your apex, you vaguely hear a commotion on the other side of the wall before the fingers inside of you are swiftly pulled out and you don’t even have time to question what’s happening when suddenly there’s a mouth lapping at the drenched mess between your legs, inquisitively tasting and mapping your folds, smaller hands replacing Atsumu’s as their fingers more gently enter you, instantly finding your g-spot and teasing it as their mouth sucks on your clit. And you think that it must be Yaku between the smaller size and the affectionate caring way he attends to you and you can feel arousal one again coiling inside of you, slowly but surely building, and when a finger pushes into your tight puckered hole that Kuroo had thoroughly prepared beforehand, you moan as your hips buck into the mouth still wrapped around your clit, the fingers in both your holes unrelenting as they continue to fuck you through your orgasm. 

Your torso slumps against the chains keeping you upright as post-coital bliss courses through you and you vaguely hear Kuroo praising you, gently murmuring in your ear as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses down your neck. But there’s no time to rest and the mouth at your pussy is replaced by a hard object and you gasp as a cock slides inside of you, strong hands gripping your waist as they bottom out, the previous fingers inside of your ass still inside your tight hole, scissoring it and stretching it. The pace is meticulous, controlled, but strong and deep and if it weren’t for his large hands keeping you still, you know you’d be instinctively pushing back, trying to meet him every thrust. Even in the position you’re in, you let out a breathy laugh at the idea of the two frenemies working together so intimately to ruin you, Sakusa railing you as Atsumu toys with your ass. But your laugh gets stuck in your throat when his pace increases, balls slapping against you with every movement and as Kuroo begins to fondle and tweak your nipples, your mind spins deliriously as the feeling of hot liquid pouring inside of you overtakes you with one strong final thrust. 

You whimper when he pulls out, the feeling of sticky fluids trickling down your inner thigh and the knowledge that your asshole must be gaping as Atsumu finally takes his fingers out making humiliation and lust burn inside of you, but it seems like your messy display isn’t a turn off for the strong hand that comes slicing through the air, harshly smacking your ass and you squeal at the impact. Who was it? Ushijima? Bokuto? Aran? You’re reeling from the intensity of the constant hits, your ass smarting and heating up under the never ending attention, but you let out a high-pitched keen as an eager mouth bullies its way between your thighs, giving impatient fast swipes before suddenly plunging in. 

Your boyfriend is a generous lover and friend and it’s not the first time you’ve had Bokuto in such an intimate position, his spiky hair tickling your legs as he buries his head into you, nose jostling against your clit as he ravenously eats you out, his strong arms holding you firmly against him. You can��t think between the unknown hand continuing its attack on your rear, Bokuto’s tongue diving in so deeply, so thoroughly, Kuroo’s mouth now sucking on one of your nipples as he pinches the other between his fingers and the chains holding you jingle as your body convulses and writhes when you fall apart under their joint efforts. 

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as Bokuto continues even after your orgasm has passed and you sob as he brings you head first into overstimulation, your hips wiggling futilely against his strong grip, pleads for mercy escaping past your lips only to be swallowed by Kuroo’s mouth hungrily devouring them, breaking apart just enough to urge you to keep on being a good girl, to take everything they give you. And when he brings his forehead to rest against yours, hazel eyes attentively staring into yours, making sure you’re really okay to go on, you bite your lip in determination and nod your head submissively at him. Anything to be his good girl. 

It feels like ages before Bokuto grows tired, forcing you to multiple orgasms before his appetite is finally sated and you exhaustedly collapse against Kuroo in relief, but you stiffen as you feel another cock at your entrance. You want to beg that it’s too soon, to give you a few more seconds, but any thoughts instantly die as the massive object slides inside of you, the girth stretching your pussy far wider than it’s ever been subjected to, and you feel so full, impossibly full, but it just keeps on going, more and more inches sinking inside of you and you open your mouth in a silent scream as you feel it all the way in your stomach. You’d heard rumors about Ushijima’s impressive stature, but feeling and hearing are two different things and you think he might just break you with how far inside of you he is, how he touches every inch of you just by staying still. It's embarrassing how quickly you shatter from just a few thrusts, babbling incoherently, brain literally being fucked out of you as he continues his steady pace, your pussy creaming around his cock as it opens to accommodate him. And when he finally finishes and paints thick stripes all over your lower back and ass, drool is seeping from your mouth and your eyes are unseeing, only the chains and Kuroo holding your limp body up. 

You almost cry in relief when three hesitant pairs of hands explore your body, tentatively and gently caressing your skin, running along the entire length of your legs, skimming across your waist and hips. And you know that this is going to be as much of a break as you’ll get in this session as the three youngest players take their time, almost shyly and reverently exploring and experimenting. They’re not as skilled as some of their seniors, but their enthusiasm and desire to learn makes up for it and you vaguely make out murmuring from the other side as their senpais guide them, teach them what riles you up. The two more forward sets of hands must be Hinata and Hoshiumi and you moan as they compete against each other, seeing who can make you wetter, who can have your ass and hips shake more lewdly, uncaring of the fact that they’re dragging you into orgasm after orgasm in their pursuit to best each other and you sigh in relief when they’re suddenly replaced by a calmer pair of hands as if they’d been either shoved or pulled away. 

The calloused hands are stiff, a bit uncertain as one grips your hip and the other guides his cock inside of you and you close your eyes at the feeling of the long length sliding inside of you. He starts a slow pace and you imagine the way he’s probably gritting his teeth, blue eyes hidden as he clenches his eyes at the feeling of your tight heat and you melt into his touch, feeling the gentle waves of desire building inside you once again. It feels so good, but it’s not enough until another set of hands joins and begins to rub the bud right above where Kageyama is pistoning in and out of you and spurred on by the way your walls squeeze against him at the stimulation, the pace inside of you increases, the fingers on your bud moving more rapidly until you’re crescendoing to your peak, whimpering into Kuroo’s chest as he holds you, brushing his fingers soothingly through your hair. 

And you let his familiar touch ground you, sighing in content as the fingers that were on your clit also rub soothing circles on your lower back as another figure presses behind you. You wonder if it’s Komori who’s trying to provide some comfort to you, it would fit his personality, but you don’t have time to dwell, not when another cock is sliding inside of your used hole, and your teeth bite down hard into Kuroo’s shoulder as you’re split apart. It’s not as big as Ushijima’s, but it’s close and your mind swirls. Is it Aran, Hakuba, Hyakuzawa? Just the image of any of the towering men dwarfing your body, stuffing you full, forcing you to take all of them makes you clench and you whimper as strong hands instinctively tighten at the movement. 

But when they move, you’re sure it’s Aran, the movements too careful to be Hakuba, but too confident to be Hyakuzawa and you don’t even have the energy to make any sounds other than high pitched squeaks as he ruts in and out, Komori’s hand still continuing to comfortingly rub your back as Kuroo whispers praise after praise in your ear. And you feel yourself drop into subspace, wholly trusting Kuroo to take care of you as your mind blanks out and you feel like you’re floating in a world of pleasure as they continue to use you, making sure everyone has a turn or two or three inside of you. 

It’s not until you feel your arms being unchained, your body released and gently maneuvered into a lap, Kuroo’s deep voice bringing you back to him as he murmurs words of praise and love that make your heart soar, his arms and hands holding you close to him, cradling you, making sure you feel grounded and sure of his presence, that you blearily begin to see the world around you, begin to really feel his firm presence and inhale his scent, begin to notice the aches throughout your body and the mess between your legs. It’s hard to find the strength to even lift your head, but with the gentle aid of Kuroo’s hand under your chin, you finally stare into hazel eyes, purring at the overwhelming love you see in his eyes before you snuggle against him, weak as a kitten. And that night as he spoils you rotten, soaking you in a bubble bath, massaging your favorite body oil into your skin, cuddling with you until your heavy eyelids begin to close, you think that it’s not so bad to let Kuroo talk you into his wild schemes.  

[rainythefox]

Nightfall (Resident Evil WeskerxClaire fanfiction, CH3)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling upon dark secrets. She can't call the law; Wesker is the law, and she can't tell Chris. She is trapped...ClairexWesker. Slight ChrisxJill. (An old FF.Net multi-chapter fic of mine that I’m revising and publishing to AO3)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17794784/chapters/41982563 (Chapters 1-3 are up, Chapter 4 coming soon)

Chapter 3: Blood in the Snow

Chris glared at the two women. Their giggles sounded roughly at the same time, grins wide on their pretty faces. Luckily, the Christmas music drowned their laughter out where other people couldn’t hear them as Chris held on for dear life.

"I fail to see what’s so amusing!"

Jill tugged on Chris’s arm. "Chris, it's just ice skating!"

"Yeah…it's skating, you know…on ice!"

Chris's legs wobbled and slid on the ice as he held onto the railing of the ice skating rink. Claire stood graciously next to Jill on the ice in her skates, arms crossed and breaths coming out in puffs. And even Jill had the audacity to stand on one leg so she could fix the tongue of her skate. The rink was moderately full with people ice skating, but not near as what it usually was. There was plenty of room to skate around; meaning Chris had plenty of room to crash.

The Christmas lights casted a magical glow around the trio. The snow glowed under their aura as music played in the park. The smell of food from nearby food vendors lofted in the air. It was the closest thing they were going to get to a Winter Wonderland in the middle of Raccoon City.

"The guys will never let me live this down if they see me doing this!" Chris huffed. "How the hell did you two talk me into this?"

"Because," Jill stated, looking over her pitiful partner as he was glued to the rail. "You said you’d ice skate with us if we went over to Barry's house with the guys to watch the football game."

Claire folded her arms with a smirk. "Which we would have gone anyways.”

"Don't be such a baby, Chris!” Jill’s attempts at pulling Chris away were futile. He wasn’t budging. “Look, I know you have more balance than that!"

Claire elbowed Jill, and then leaned in to whisper in her ear. Chris looked between them with a warning glare, immediately suspicious of their mischievous grins as they whispered. His fingers dug into the railing even harder, if that was even possible.

"Don't even think about it!"

Claire and Jill grabbed Chris and worked together to tear him away from the railing. They pushed him towards the middle of the skating rink. Chris looked like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide, arms out and waving and legs slipping and sliding as he fought for balance, desperate gasps and profanities spewing from his mouth. Claire and Jill cackled at the sight, skating out towards him. Finally, Chris was able to get a grip on his balance and worked at getting himself to go forward without face planting first into the ground.

"Whoo! I'm doing it!" He sounded like a gleeful child.

"They grow up so fast," Jill joked.

Claire and Jill skated behind Chris as he practiced and tried not to crash. Raccoon City Park was full of excitement and good spirits under the starry sky. Outside of the rink, kids made snowmen and snow angels with their parents. There were even a few families decking it out with a snowball fight.

Claire thoughtfully looked over at Jill. "So…I was supposed to be sneaky about this, but I know it won't do any good. I’m just gonna be upfront. Chris is going crazy trying to find you a Christmas gift. Is there something you want he can get you so he’ll shut up?"

Jill laughed, shaking her head. "He doesn't have to get me anything."

Her smile, though amused, shaped more into an affectionate up-curve of her lips. Her cheeks had been rosy from the cold, but now they seemed extra-rosy to Claire.

"Oh, but he does…badly. Please, you gotta help me or I’ll have to deal with his whining the whole time I’m here visiting."

Jill was quiet, and Claire hoped she was thinking of something. "Well, how about something practical like a new toaster?"

Claire gave her an unamused glare. "C’mon Jill, a toaster? Really? Who wants a toaster for Christmas?"

Jill shrugged. "I really wouldn't want Chris spending any kind of money on me."

"Oh, how about that really nice sofa back in that store we checked out earlier? That would actually look really nice in your living room."

"No way! That thing was like $500!"

"Yeah, you’re right." Claire sighed, thinking. "Hmm…how about a hat? You like hats!"

"A hat sound simple, cheap, and easy. I'm all for it!"

Claire was relieved. "Glad that's over with! So, do you need my help deciding what you’re getting Chris?"

Jill waved her off. "Nah, I ordered his nearly two months ago."

"What? Really? What is it?"

"Well, I went to Robert Kendo's gun shop and had him customize a brand new issue Samurai Edge with a steel slide and a silver-glided trigger just for Chris. It’s a one-of-a-kind gun, made just for Chris. He had one, but it got blown up, and that fucker Irons wouldn’t pay for a replacement."

Claire gave a baffled look. "Blown…up?"

"Don’t ask. Long story. Basically, while dealing with a terrorist, one of the STARS vehicles got blown up with Chris’s gun inside. Everything turned out good in the end, but he sure was upset that his Samurai Edge was destroyed. It was the gun he won that last marksmanship trophy with. He's been using an old Glock instead for awhile."

"Wow, he never told me about that. How much did that cost?"

Jill looked away, mumbling. "Oh, not important."

"Jill!"

"Alright! It cost $780."

Claire’s jaw fell agape and then she glared at her friend. "I'm totally telling him to buy you that sofa and a hat…and a toaster."

"You better not! Don't tell him the gun cost that much. I'm gonna lie and say that Wesker convinced Irons to issue him a new one."

"And what if Chris asks Wesker for that story?"

Jill bit her lip. "I…uhh…I'll tell Wesker to go along with it! Besides, Chris wouldn't dare ask the Captain for the truth!"

"Maybe so," Claire said. "But if you do that, then Chris wouldn’t know it was a Christmas gift from you. He would think it was a Christmas gift from Wesker…sort of."

Jill slumped her shoulders. "Yeah, you're right. I suck at coming up with stories."

"I won't say anything about the gun, but you should really tell him the truth when you give it to him. He deserves to know it’s really from you. And, just so we’re clear, don't be surprised if Chris buys you something just as expensive."

Jill heaved a defeated sigh. "Fine."

"Hey, kiddo!” Chris hollered. “Check this out!"

He was skating on one foot, grinning and proud of himself.

Claire covered her forehead, groaning. "He called me a kiddo…how embarrassing.”

Jill cupped her hands over her mouth, her breath coming out in white puffs. "Pretty soon you'll be an ice skating champ, Christopher!"

"Don't call me that!"

Jill shook her head. "Why does he hate being called Christopher so much?"

"I have no idea."

Chris yelped, and a crash followed. They saw Chris slowly sliding across the ice on his stomach, arms and legs spread out. Claire and Jill skated over to him while laughing and helped him to his feet.

"I think that’s enough ice skating for one day," Chris said, feeling his lip with a finger. "I think I bit my lip!"

"Alright, we better leave anyways if we’re going to get over to Barry's in time for the game," Claire replied, holding back a laugh.

Barry Burton lived with his family in eastern Raccoon City in a safe, quiet suburban community. They lived in a large, two-story house with a built in garage and large backyard. The Redfields and the Burtons went way back. Claire had known Barry and his wife, Kathy, since she was a little girl. She considered Barry’s two young daughters, Moira and Polly, as her nieces. It was the Burtons who helped look after Claire after her and Chris’s parents died, and he was forced to enlist into the military to take care of Claire. It was Barry who eventually helped Chris get hired on at the RPD as a member of STARS. They considered each other family.

While over watching the football game, they enjoyed the good company and the home-cooked food and drinks. Barry's house was full of snacks, good food, drinks, and off course friends. Claire and Jill were just as into the game as the men were, cheering for their home team. Barry left just long enough to put Moira and Polly to bed for the night. Claire wasn't surprised that a few of their STARS teammates were here to enjoy the game and visit as well. Joseph Frost, Forest Speyer, and Richard Aiken cracked jokes and stuffed their faces while the football game went on. Even Barry’s good friend, Robert Kendo, came over to watch the game and have some drinks.

Afraid they would wake his daughters from their rowdy banter, Barry slapped Joseph with a rolled up newspaper and told them to keep it down. However, when the home team scored their first touchdown, the scolding was forgotten as all men jumped to their feet whooping and cheering, Barry included.

The game lasted a couple of hours, and they rejoiced as their home team won the game, clanking beer bottles together. They helped the Burtons clean up for a short time before departing for home.

By the time Chris and Claire got to Chris's house, she was beat. She had cheered just as much as the men, and probably ate just as much too.

The Redfield siblings weren’t home long before going to bed. Chris would be returning to work in the morning, and Claire would to have to take him in because Jill’s shift started earlier.

They got up early the following morning to have breakfast downtown before Claire dropped her brother off at the police department. He grabbed the door handle of the truck and turned to her before getting out.

"Be careful if you go anywhere. We’re supposed to get more snow later," Chris informed.

The sun was rising on the icy morning, but dark gray, overcast clouds warned of more winter weather to come.

"Will do. I think I’m gonna hit the hike trails and run a mile or two before going home. I feel fat from all that good food last night."

Chris rolled his eyes. "You women. Can’t you just run at the track in town? That’s kinda far."

"It’s closed, remember? Besides, I like the scenery out there better."

"I dunno, Sis. Anything could happen that far out by yourself. Might get hurt and no one be around to help. Hell, there might be crazies out there right now."

It was Claire's turn to roll her eyes. There were times Chris’s brotherly protectiveness got on her nerves. "Chris,we’ve taken the Arklay Hiking Trails lots of times and never had any problems. If there is anyone out there, which I doubt from the weather, I bet it’ll only be that old couple Mr. and Mrs. Willow and some of those good looking track guys from Raccoon University."

"Good looking track guys? Now wait just a damn minute, I-"

"Oh c'mon, Chris, I was just joking! I knew you would freak out as soon as I mentioned hot guys!”

“Well, just run a mile around my house.”

"I’d look like an idiot running around the house."

"Fine, whatever. Just don’t take too long and please call me when you get home, alright? If I don’t hear from you in a few hours, I’ll come searching. I mean it!”

"Yes, sir!" Claire stated sarcastically and stuck her tongue out at him.

After her brother got out, Claire drove the truck away from downtown Raccoon City and took the main highway out of the city’s limits. Dreary clouds snuffed out the early morning sun. Claire knew it would snow again soon, probably before noon. It was cold and snowy, but Claire felt the jog would do her some good. She had neglected her exercises since arriving to visit Chris on her winter break, and knew it would also be nice to get out of the house and clear her head for awhile.

Claire smiled. Yes, it was a good day for a jog.

The Arklay National Forest was a vast wilderness that surrounded the city with mountains and rivers for miles around. It was a popular tourist attraction within Arklay County. There were several camping and hiking locations throughout the county, but the more popular ones included the Arklay Hiking Trails to the northwest of the city, off Route 6. They explored Arklay Mountains and provided beautiful sightseeing, rock climbing, and breathtaking vistas.

Claire parked the Dodge truck in the parking area of the hiking trails. The small forest center stated the hiking trails were closed due to the weather. Claire had never seen something like that before, as closing the national forest to people seemed far-fetched. She saw other vehicles in the parking lot, so figured the sign was forgotten about from the ice storm a couple weeks ago.

She climbed out, bundling up in her parka and gloves. She wore dark pants and snow boots and a scarf around her neck. The forest around her was quiet, only the soft cracks of snow falling off tree limbs could be heard. Claire took a good look around. The snow had transformed the forest into a winter wonderland. And though Claire was more of an autumn person, she had to admit that the snow made everything seem mystical.

As she walked over to the start of one of the scenic trails, she noticed the other vehicles parked in the lot, just a few slots down from her truck. She was surprised to see them. In this biting cold and snow, only the determined came out here to walk or hike the trails. She didn't recognize them either. The older couple see saw often drove a Ford car, and they also didn't belong to the track guys from the university.

There were three of them parked side by side, and the models surprised Claire. There was a brand new black Jaguar XK8 that caught her eye. Luxury cars weren't uncommon in Raccoon City, thanks to the booming economy and high-paying jobs from corporations like Umbrella. The Jaguar wasn't one of those more commonly seen though. Whoever owned this car had a lot of money. The other two cars were not near as stunning as the Jaguar, but also were high dollar luxury cars. There was a silver BMW M3 sedan, as well as a dark green Mercedes-Benz S320. The cars were mostly clean save for some dirty snow and mud caked up under the fenders.

Well, it looks as though we got some rich buddies going for a stroll. I hope one of them is good looking!

She laughed inwardly at her own joke, shaking her head and moving on. She was sure whomever owned these cars were not her type and were probably much older. Claire picked the trail that she and Chris would go on all the time, wondering how the snow and ice had changed its beautiful scenery from the spring and summer seasons. She pulled her hair up into a messy ponytail and did a few warm up exercises before starting to jog along the trail.

The scenic trail she took was the one of the longer ones, but Claire knew she could always turn back if she started to get too cold. She jogged along the snow-covered path, careful not to slip on any ice. She took in the sights as she followed the trail. Icicles hung from tree branches, thicker branches held snow. The wind whistled as it whipped through the forest, picking up dusts of snow. There was even wildlife nearby. She could see and hear birds as they flew from branch to branch, tweeting and singing. A few squirrels were out, their tails twitching as they chased each other through the trees. A red fox that watched the snow for a mouse saw her and vanished into the woods. Not far from the trail, Claire saw a small herd of deer and stopped to watch them. They ate the bark from the trees, and there were even does with fawns. A buck turned his head towards her, mouth chewing and tail flicking.

I wish I had my camera!

Suddenly, the deer turned and fled deeper into the forest. Disappointed, Claire carried on, but decided to walk for a bit to further enjoy the vibrant wildlife that surrounded her. Her lungs burned from the biting cold and running, and came out in white puffs as she caught her breath. She walked the trail deeper into the mountains, still seeing wildlife here and there.

The deeper she followed the trail, the more it became deathly silent and unmoving. Then it was gone. There was no life whatsoever out here anymore. Even the wind had died down, and so not even the tree limbs groaned or cracked in the distance. Claire's nerves twitched, and she felt a knot growing in her chest. The kind of knot that told her it was time to turn back. Something wasn't right at all, and she suddenly remembered the three cars back at the entrance by her truck.

I should’ve seen somebody by now…

She halted on the path. She looked all around her, that feeling in her chest getting worse. Something bright and red caught her peripheral vision, and Claire looked down onto the snow-covered trail. A few feet away from her was a couple of quarter-sized blood splotches. The sight of the blood itself was enough to make hers curdle. She noticed the other flecks of blood, and even a trail. The dark red spots had melted the snow into a thick syrup-like substance, and were fresh.

Did someone get hurt?

A sharp, pained cry hit her ears and startled her. Her heart jumped to her throat, nerves sizzling as she backed away from the sound. Claire swallowed hard, frozen in place. Her gut urged her to turn back and flee, but she couldn’t just leave without making sure someone wasn’t hurt or dying out here.

The snow crunched quietly below her boots as she followed the blood drops along the path. There were footprints here other than hers, and grooves in the snow that looked like there had been a struggle. Voices carried through the trees, and her breath caught in her throat with a shaky sputter. She went off the path to hide behind a thick, large oak tree. She took a deep breath to steady herself and looked around the trunk into an opening not far off from the trail.

Claire saw a man, maybe in his forties, with graying five o'clock shadow on his knees, wincing in pain. Blood stained his shirt, and his face was welted and bruised. The blood on the trail had to have been his. Claire’s pulse rose as she realized the man's arms were tied behind his back. There were two other men, and they stood in front of him.

One of the men was thin, handsome, and looked to be in his mid-thirties with dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and five o'clock shadow. He wore a coat with a white shirt and a sloppily tied tie and dark slacks. Claire didn't recognize him. The other man was one she recognized all too well. Her eyes widened, heart catching in her throat as she recognized Albert Wesker. The leader of the Special Tactics and Rescue Service wore his dark uniform, the same one she saw him wear the other day. He had a handgun aimed at the bleeding man.

What the hell?!

The man beside Wesker rolled his neck, yawning as if he was bored. "C'mon, Finley, we don't have all day."

"Fuck you, William. I'm not telling you two anything!"

“This is a strange spot to board the Ecliptic Express. The train doesn’t stop out here, unless of course you bribed the engineer because you were trying to avoid us.”

“What?! You’re crazy!”

"You had a contract, Mr. Finley. You are obliged to tell us what you know," Wesker said coolly, the gun unwavering near Finley’s face.

The battered man glared at the STARS Captain. "Yeah, I did have a contract. But not to you, Albert! Just because you killed Crawford doesn't mean I have to answer to you."

"Well, that's too bad," William stated, smirking. "I guess that means we’ll have to resort to other measures, isn't that right, Al?"

"You two are fucking insane! I’ve kept up my end of the deal. I didn't do anything!"

"On the contrary," Wesker interrupted. "You informed a different party about the change in the Tyrant Project as well as gave out crucial information on the Golgotha. That is quite a problem you’ve caused for Spencer and Umbrella, and well as for us."

Finley spat blood from his lips. "You have no proof!”

Wesker bashed the pistol across the man’s face and he yelped.

“William and I do not like our time wasted. The longer I have to play pest control, the less desirable your fate will be.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“Well, you never were very bright, Fin,” William retorted with a chuckle.

"William, how about we head over to Finley's house to dispose of his family and make him out to be the killer who shot himself?"

"You always come up with the best plans, Al."

"W-Wait, n-no! Not my f-family! I'll tell you everything; just leave my family out of this!"

Wesker purposely put the barrel close to the beaten man’s eye. "Then where are the disks?"

Finley took a deep breath, his body shaking, but Claire doubted it was from the cold. "I-I gave them to S-Steve Morgan."

"Oh, for crying out loud," William groaned. "Steve Morgan? You’re siphoning information to the Ashfords?! I should kill you where you stand!"

"He’s still in town! You can stop him! Besides, you can’t kill me! Spencer won’t allow it! I demand you two to take me to him!"

Wesker lowered the gun, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips. "Of course, Finley. I won’t go against Spencer.”

"R-Really?" Finley gasped.

William rounded on Wesker with wide eyes. "What?!” Then he suddenly calmed, clearing his throat and smiling. “Ohhh. Right. Sure, Fin. Whatever Al says, goes.”

Finley looked between them, pale and sweaty. “G-Good. Now take me to him.”

Wesker rubbed his chin. “Then again, I hate snitches.”

Finley barely got a plea out before Wesker aimed the gun and pulled the trigger. The gunshot pierced through the woods like a cold dagger.

Claire almost screamed when she saw Finley's head explode. The body fell limp to the ground, blood gushing out onto the snow. Claire covered her mouth, not trusting herself to make a noise at the sight. Her breath became shallow gulps, her heartbeats quickening in fear.

William sighed. "You made a mess…again.”

"I'm running late, William. I'll call Sergei and make him send a group out here to clean everything up and dispose of Finley's car."

"Fine. Next time, let's try to move them somewhere a bit more private. I know he was coming back from the express, but someone could’ve been walking the trail, ya know? Not everyone listens to those closed signs."

Wesker shrugged. "We weren't expecting Finley to pull a gun on us, now did we? He was ready for us. It’s why the train stopped out here instead. He knew I killed Crawford and we were coming for him next. This did not go according to plan. He has been in contact with somebody other than Morgan. We should look more into this.”

"Agreed," William replied, kicking Finley's limp leg. "Goddamn rat."

Claire slipped behind the tree again, her heart pounding so fast, it was about to burst from her chest. They were heading back to their cars! There was no way Claire could get back to the truck and leave before they saw her. And she knew Wesker would recognize Chris's truck. She was in a very bad position. She couldn't believe that Wesker, the Captain of the STARS force and one of Raccoon City's Finest, was a dirty cop.

They were talking about something big, she knew. The Umbrella Corporation was one of the biggest pharmaceutical companies in the world, and had actually played a big part in the building of Raccoon City. Besides that, between the pharmacies, facilities, and warehouses, Umbrella gave more than 25,000 jobs for the city alone.

Claire desperately thought on what to do. She couldn't make a run for it without them hearing or seeing her. Wesker obviously had a gun and was not afraid to use it. If she remained in hiding, Wesker would recognize Chris's truck, and would either be back on the trail to hunt her down, or heading back to the police station to confront Chris and possibly lead him into a trap like they did with this poor fellow out here. At this point, Claire had no idea what Wesker was capable of. She always heard that he was one of the most honored and respected men at the RPD, with a prowess like no other. Now it seemed he was a two-faced traitor that used his position in law to his advantage.

"Wait a minute. Look at these shoe prints, Albert!"

Claire froze, the rough bark of the tree digging into her back. She dared not to look around the tree. They sounded right on the other side of it on the trail.

"Woman, size seven and a half. Interesting," Wesker commented.

You've got to be shitting me…

"Alright, little lady, come out! Don't be shy! We know you’re here! We promise we won’t hurt you!" William said, his tone friendly and comforting, but Claire knew better. She then heard him whisper to Wesker. "I knew this was a bad idea! We're going to get caught! I blame this on you!"

"Shh!" Wesker hissed.

They went silent, further antagonizing Claire. She was so terrified, she felt she had frozen herself with the tree and become one with it. Her mind ran a million miles a second, trying to come up with a plan, and fast.

"The footsteps go towards that tree. Stay here," Wesker said.

William scoffed. “Psh! Yeah, better you than me!”

SHIT!

Claire could hear his footsteps heading in her direction off of the trail. She looked down, hoping to God she could find something to use as a weapon against the both of them and escape. All she saw near her feet was a rock twice the size of her fist. She bent over to grab it up, making not even a peep. She struggled to keep her throat from letting a cry out. Why did she have to leave her gun and knife in the truck? Chris always told her to carry them, and the one time she didn’t, she needed them.

Wesker’s footsteps neared the tree, and so she braced herself. Maybe if she was able to knock Wesker out and take his gun, she would be able to get away. William didn't seem much of a threat, but Claire didn't want to take any chances.

As Wesker came around the tree, Claire swung the rock. Wesker barely evaded it, his reflexes quick and nimble. He grabbed her arm, twisting it around her back and slamming her into the tree. It made her drop the rock. Claire yelped, fighting his hold, but he tightened his grip, threatening to break it, and she gave in with a cry.

"Well, well, well, this is quite a small world. Wouldn't you agree, Ms. Redfield?" Wesker greeted, sounding amused as he let her arm go.

Claire turned around with a glare. She tried to push past him, but Wesker shoved her back into the tree and held her there. It didn't take long before William came around to where they were.

"You two know each other?"

"Chris Redfield's younger sister. He’s a member of STARS," Wesker answered simply. Those sunglasses focused on Claire once more, and his grip tightened on her shirt just above her breasts as he kept her in place. He used his free hand to take of his sunglasses, pocketing them. A dark smirk formed on Wesker's lips, his gray-blue eyes piercing her and making Claire's bones freeze. "You better have a good explanation for this, dear heart. I'm just dying to know why you are here."

[threadsketchier]

A Hard Question

HHGGGGNNNNNNNNNN AT LAST IT IS FINISHED

Once upon a time an author did a lot of handwaving and our OTP got a magic Force Bond and lived happily ever after.  (For a while. *sweary growling*)  Except Force bonds shouldn’t really be that convenient, and while we’re at it, there was too much talking and not enough Feels™.  I decided to do something about that.  After much anguished keyboard smashing, here it is - a re-write of That Scene from Vision of the Future, except with really shitty action and waaaaaaaaay more emotions.

You’re welcome.  (I hope?)

Read it at AO3

MUSIC: “Coward,” Hans Zimmer, Interstellar // “Rachel’s Song,” Vangelis, Blade Runner // “Where We’re Going,” Hans Zimmer, Interstellar // “Truth/Mal’s Speech,” David Newman, Serenity

“I’ve never had to find a hard question in my life.  They’ve always found me first.”

“Well, I’ll be Kesseled.  I was right.”

Mara’s arm shot out, smacking gently into Luke’s midriff to stop him from taking a step any further into the chamber.  Even as the details of the massive room trickled through her periphery, to be filed away for use or caution, her attention remained fixed on a single spot nestled inside a deep alcove.  Upon a figure floating in repose within a fully-outfitted cloning apparatus, a deceptively tranquil sight.  The heat in her blood rose, peeling her lips back from her teeth.

“Ten years.  Just like you said,” Luke murmured beside her, his voice laced with something between awe and grim resolve.  Mara’s eyes narrowed; she could already feel him grappling with the moral quandary he suddenly faced, could practically hear the well-oiled gears of mercy cranking to life.

“Thrawn liked to believe he thought of everything,” she said with a spiteful satisfaction.  “He obviously didn’t think of me.”

Luke’s head darted aside to spear her with a knowing look.  “Mara - ”

“Spare me the lecture about how a clone isn’t guilty of the crimes of its template,” she hissed.  “He was a conniving bastard who got off on manipulating, exploiting, and conquering the ‘unwashed masses.’  You really think he wouldn’t make sure his Version 2.0 inherited his superiority complex?”  Luke’s mouth was opening, trying to edge in a retort, but she barreled on.  “And don’t tell me it’s because he’s unarmed and helpless either - this entire facility is a weapon, from the turbolasers down to the database.  You know what’ll happen when he wakes up.  The New Republic’s already tearing itself apart; he’ll hardly have to lift a finger to finish unraveling it.”  Her fingers curled around a fistful of Luke’s jacket, nails digging into the flesh beneath the fabric.  “Don’t pull another Jomark on me, Farmboy.”

Don’t make me clean up the mess you’re too pure to handle.

His features taut with pained indignation, Luke jutted his chin sharply at the command console on the other side of the chamber.  “At least let Artoo plug into that computer to see what he can download on the Unknown Regions data first.”

“And risk our only chance at him?  You have any idea why it’s so empty in here?”  She gestured at the cluster of furniture lined up along the edge of the main floor, stored beneath plastic sheeting.  “You’d think Thrawn’s clone would have the same taste in interior décor.  All this space reeks of a trap.  Probably multiple traps, knowing him.  I’ll bet you a bushel of vincoff he’s got ysalamiri around here somewhere.”

“This isn’t our only option,” Luke countered angrily.  “If we can figure out a way to recover him from the cylinder, we can have him in our custody and take him back to the authorities.  Underneath all those contingencies, he’s only a man; I think between the three of us we can handle him,” he added tartly.

Mara snorted and shook her head.  “Doesn’t matter.  As long as he’s alive, he has power.  You don’t get that.  After his brains, his reputation is his next weapon.  Just the whiff of him has the whole galaxy running scared.  Good luck handling the fallout while you’re waiting on the trial.”  She unholstered her blaster and unhooked her lightsaber from her belt, and favored Luke with a tight, mirthless smile.  “Y’know, Faughn said we made a good team.  She was right.  When you get squeamish, I’ll be here to take out the trash.”

Luke’s face crumpled, closing down, his jaw grinding from the barb. Sullen, he turned back and whispered harshly to his droid, “Get to the console and plug in,” as she finally entered the chamber and broke into a brisk jog along the upper walkway toward the alcove.

Mara kept the blue face square in her sights as far as she could see it on her approach.  The face of the man who had driven Karrde to think she’d betrayed him.  The man who had mocked her as nothing more than a gullible pawn, who’d employed a mad Dark Jedi who sought to bend and break her to his will, who’d cemented in her soul that the glory of the Empire was truly gone.

No more.  She was in the business of exorcising old demons, after all.

Once she knew the alcove was below her, Mara hopped up onto the walkway railing and jumped straight down onto the main floor in front of it.  The transparisteel wall sealing the cloning apparatus looked blast-proof to anything handheld, but nothing a lightsaber couldn’t make short work of.  As far as she knew, Thrawn hadn’t figured out a way to make cortosis ore invisible.  The fluid might make things messy, but that was the least of her concerns.

She brought up her lightsaber hilt and pressed it against the wall, right over the clone’s sternum.  Just a flick of the switch and it would be over.  For the second time, Thrawn was about to get his heart carved out by someone he’d sorely underestimated -

“Who dares disturb the sleep of the Syndic Mitth’raw’nuruodo?!”

Even Mara couldn’t help a reflexive flinch at the deep voice that thundered from somewhere above at a nearly deafening volume.  On instinct she dropped into a crouch and spun to catch Luke’s eye; he looked equally startled and confused, also in defensive posture.  Beside him the astromech abruptly began beeping and trilling loudly, bouncing back and forth on its stubby legs in either shock or delight, she couldn’t tell.

With the brief jolt of fear turning to annoyance, Mara chanced a look upwards in time to watch the high domed ceiling somehow liquify from a solid surface into a rippling mass that coalesced into the shape of an imposing face.  Once again the booming voice asked from the mouth of the image, “Who dares disturb the sleep of the Syndic Mitth’raw’nuruodo?!”

Nice little special effect, she thought.  Pick that one up from Hologram Fun World?  “I do, you pompous rock worrt,” Mara muttered aloud.  The hairs on her nape were already rising again, preparing her for the threat promised by the obnoxious distraction, and at best she’d only have another second to aim and ignite her blade before it was too late -

“Mara!” Luke cried out, and she was biting down a curse as her finger slid across the switch but her wrist pulled the hilt away from the wall to defend herself from a blaster bolt sizzling toward her head.

On the raised walkway stood two hulking sentinel droids that had seemingly emerged out of nowhere, quickly rolling apart from each other on heavy treads to broaden their attack pattern.  Luke was dashing backwards from the command console while maintaining his own defense, approaching her, and had she not been so occupied Mara would have rolled her eyes at his obvious attempt to shield and protect her with his own body.  It was more than useless in this situation anyway, with the sentinels rapidly stationing themselves at the opposite ends of the chamber.  They were sitting fowls in their crosshairs.

Mara raked return fire across her sentinel’s head and joints, but the bolts merely glanced off; the droid’s armor was too reinforced.  “Shavit,” she snarled.  Of course Thrawn would do everything he could to Jedi-proof his backup plan.

Behind her there was a sudden yelp and the thud of a body hitting the floor near her feet, and for half a second a horrified disbelief gusted through her that Luke had managed to be hit, but then she heard him warning her with embarrassed frustration, “Cord snares!  On the floor.  Watch your step!”

Wonderful.  Thrawn was just the gift that kept on giving.

Over the din of blaster fire she heard Luke grunt his way upright, and then his back was bumping into her as he braced himself against her.  With nowhere else to go, Mara reluctantly let herself lean into him, the two of them pressed together, fighting frantically.  Perfectly helpless.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she ground out through her teeth like a mantra, half to herself.  “The oldest trick in the book and I still fell for it like some dumb farm kid.”

“Hey,” Luke shot back testily.

The Force lent them speed and accuracy and lengthened stamina, but it was no magic solution.  Their muscles were going to tire well before the droids ran out of ammo, and all it would take was one missed block.  In desperate fury Mara wished she could simply crush the damn thing into scrap, wrap her will around its head and torso and just squeeze the way Vader would callously dispose of whoever pissed in his helmet that day, but that would take more concentration and focus than she could spare just to stay alive through the relentless barrage.

Rage and defiance against the futility of it all narrowed her physical sight to the droid and its fiery hail alone.  As her vision tunneled, however, her awareness was spreading and deepening - not of her own body and mind, but of the one behind and beside her.

Within her.

Luke’s arm around her waist and his head touching hers, his fingers laced through hers, his spirit and strength overlapping with hers to bring everything into clarity -

Except it was like having the sun at her back.

Stars, he burned.  He burned.

It was easy to forget the devastation of such brilliance when it lay hidden behind a lean frame and a gentle tone.  The infinite bled into the edges of his being, blurring the line between him and the rest of the universe.  She spoke of power and carelessness, but standing, drifting here, confronted by the sheer magnitude of what was poured into this mortal shell…

This is what it felt like to carry the weight of planets and history and only remember to breathe in fleeting moments of bad puns and swigs of cheap beer on the deck of a decrepit freighter and bedtime stories with all the sound effects and voices added.  Trembling hands pulling the trigger, clutching the flight stick, his lightsaber, letting go of the gantry and falling falling falling, dragging his father’s body, cradling his sister’s newborn children, loving to fight and fighting to love -

- her.

In the empathy and admiration of watching her shatter and slowly put the pieces of herself back together, year after year.  In the way his soul would quiet even as she tried to rile him up, how his heart would be unburdened for those brief times whenever she dropped by, expecting nothing from him but his stupid face and his stupid smile and maybe some small talk about engine components and the market fluctuations of raw chocolate.

Here, in this strange place where time stretched into a meaningless expanse, Mara realized that for all of Luke’s openness, the one stubborn knot of emotional constipation in his life was her.  His care had not been the dilute compassion she thought he extended to everyone.  But he’d tried his damndest to smother it beneath all manner of excuses - he was the face of her nightmares, another scab of her old life, she was his apprentice, maybe, sometimes, it wasn’t right, everyone he ever loved he hurt, he killed, he couldn’t do that to her, she needed to be free, even from him -

And with the agonizing helplessness of fighting a dream gone wrong, her body engulfed in quicksand and her limbs turned to stone while her mind railed and screamed, Mara understood that whatever she saw of Luke, he must be seeing of her.  All of her.  Everything.  Every blossom of misguided pride and desire to please, every unquestioned thought, every savor of the kill, every spray and smear of blood, every ounce of doubt and self-loathing, every hunger pang of want and need and denial and delusion -

She’d tried so hard to hide it, and now it was out.  He loved her, he did love her, and how?  How could he love such a thing?

It was like a pressure wave, the light intensifying and suffusing her.  If a shout was tactile, maybe this is what it felt like.  Flashes of Vader, of a bald, pale, heavily scarred old man smiling sadly, of a twitching hand and still-raw, half-healed forearm throbbing red-hot with pain whipped across her sense, and Mara felt herself embraced almost violently.

No, the light cried, no no no no.  You are not a thing, and neither was he.  You are more than monsters.

I’m sorry, he wept.  I’m sorry that this is what it took.

She was staring at her own face, wet and ashen, the unkempt strands of her braid haloed around her head like solar prominences across the blackness of water.

Wait, what?  What?

A shrill screech broke through the haze of unreality - or rather, somehow Mara understood what the noise should have sounded like while it was instead stretched out into a low, dull roar like a recording on a profoundly slow playback.  In a sort of clinical daze she watched as R2-D2 crept into the edge of her sight, arc welder brandished and rolling across the upper walkway toward the sentinel attacking her.  Evidently its master’s protective streak and ludicrous hero complex were contagious.  She almost wondered just what the hell had taken the droid so damn long to get its metal rear in gear, but the bizarre distortion of time meant that less than a minute had to have elapsed.

Mara couldn’t believe the sentinel wasn’t aware of the approaching puny threat, but it gave no sign of acknowledging it yet.  A small knot of lightning began to discharge from R2’s welder, and then she saw the first hint of the sentinel’s reaction, the slightest repositioning of its arm and the blaster muzzle beginning to angle away from her.

This was her chance.  But to do...what, exactly?  She could throw her lightsaber and slice through the one blaster, but in the time it would take her to call it back to her hand, a killing shot from the other weapon would dispatch her.  And then the next would drill its way into Luke’s back or head.

FALL!

The word stabbed through her with such intensity she jerked and gasped, almost missing the next parry.  At her confusion an image of the cord-strewn floor flickered across her mind, then a view of the domed ceiling as if she was looking straight overhead.

Fall with me!  Trust me!

Mara realized it was Luke’s voice, though she wasn’t hearing it so much as feeling it, an instant comprehension as if his thoughts were her own, only colored in his distinctive heat.

There was no more time for questioning; whatever he was planning couldn’t be any worse than hers.  The sparks of R2’s welder touched the sentinel, and without even sparing a glance aside, the larger droid swung that arm with a callous ease to shove the little astromech clean off its bearings.

In the second and a half that blaster wasn’t firing, and Luke’s shoulder blades stopped carving circles in her back, Mara let her right leg buckle to send her toppling down with him, bracing herself to ignore the pain in her shoulder and hip as she hit the floor.  Immediately Luke flipped onto his back, and his lightsaber was whipping just above her face, momentarily blinding her as its blade caught the flurry of bolts from both sentinel droids.

Go for it! he was urging her, and gritting her teeth, Mara hurled her lightsaber toward her sentinel’s left blaster, bisecting the weapon into two halves of glowing slag.  Imagining her hilt as the end of a whip, she drew and spun it to the droid’s other side to destroy its second blaster.  The big lug had enough sentience to emit a rumbling growl of irritation at having been outwitted, but Mara knew she didn’t have time to relish that amusement; already it was digging into twin compartments in its upper legs for a fresh set of blasters.  Kriffing Thrawn.

The enigmatic sight of her corpse-like face in the water shot to the forefront of her mind again.  Water.

Her eyes darted to the water-stained wall near her droid opponent.

Practicing with the stalactites had given her enough skill now to briefly defeat the sentinel, but if she tried to pull a Vader, there was no guarantee she could summon both the brute strength and precision to ensure the droid wouldn’t remain functional.  As much as her teenage self would have bristled at the thought, in this regard she was no Dark Lord.  The urgency of Luke’s fatigue was beating at her; Mara was keenly aware of the strain on his arms and the simmering ache of burns from glancing near-misses as if his body were her own.  Better to stick to what she knew.

With a high-pitched snarl of effort Mara sent her lightsaber flying toward the wall and drove its tip straight into the rock, carving out a small circle.  Almost instantly an explosive jet of water began to spray from the cut, much quicker than she’d expected, and as it obscured the saber she nearly lost her mental grip on the hilt, fighting against both the dense stone and the incredible pressure.  But she held on out of sheer desperation; she couldn’t afford to fail now -

And then the stone plug was shooting across the chamber with all the destructive speed of a missile.  The armored lunk crumpled and flew like garbage ejected from a freighter.

Any sense of victory was short-lived, because over the sound of shearing metal came a bone-rattling thunder as the wall gave way, the jet enlarged to a waterfall, and the Lake of Small Fish decided to invite itself to the party.

Oh bloody h-

Still hyper-focused on the battle, Mara wasn’t at all prepared for the shockingly cold wave that slammed into her and sent her hurtling across the floor.  Surprise and disorientation ripped a shout from her throat before instinct reminded her to keep her mouth shut and hold her breath, as the water mercilessly tossed and rolled her facedown into blinding white foam.  She flailed wildly, clawing for the trip cords to give her something to anchor herself with, but the turbulence pushed her away, until she managed to bob back upwards to the surface just in time to see herself about to collide with one of the walkways.

Mara thrust her arms outwards to keep her face from bashing into the wall, scrabbled madly for anything to grip, but the swirling water kept drawing her aside.  Suddenly a viselike pressure surrounded her torso, almost tight enough to crush the breath from her lungs, and she felt herself rise up out of the water with just enough height that she could reach the lower rung of the equipment balcony railing nearby.

Compelled by panic and the chance of safety, without thinking, Mara lunged for the railing and began to haul herself up before she cast a glance back over the water filling the chamber.

She couldn’t see Luke anywhere.

Alarm froze her in place.  What if he’d been entangled in the cords and was drowning?  Or finally taken a hit while she’d been engrossed in her rock torpedo ploy and the subsequent deluge?  He had to be down there somewhere and she couldn’t see him, where was he?  She realized he must have lifted her with the Force moments before, so he had to be alive, she hadn’t felt the pain of a mortal wound or...or…

An instant of unspeakable horror flooded her chest at the notion of what it would feel like if he was gone.  Truly gone.  Like when Palpatine had left her with that gaping, ragged, pitch-black hole -

Then Luke’s head broke through the churning water, coughing and spluttering, followed by a small metallic periscope beside him.  Slowly R2’s blue and silver dome began to emerge, and Luke’s eyes caught hers, pleading.  Help me, he was asking.

Not him, though, but the droid he was struggling to hoist out of the water and over to the balcony.

Mara fumed silently.  Of course.  Of course the idiot wants to save his rustbucket first.

Her mind felt raw, scraped and bruised by the effort of fighting harder for her life than she’d ever managed and their unprecedented union through the Force.  Even a simple thing like levitating an astromech seemed beyond whatever mental strength she had left.  But Mara pushed herself, jaw grinding and body rigid, and R2 floated unsteadily toward her and over the railing.

She didn’t bother to give it a soft landing.  The droid squealed, no doubt in offense, and she ignored it; that wasn’t any worse than the backhand the sentinel had given it.

The surging of the water was starting to ebb somewhat as the level rose to meet its entry point, and Luke was able to swim to the balcony.  Mara finished climbing over the railing, and as soon as he was within reach she bent down to seize him by an arm and the scruff of his jacket and pulled upwards with all her might.  His hands closed around the rails and he dragged himself the rest of the way, rolling over the edge to collapse facedown in a boneless heap beside her.

Settling on her backside, Mara paused to consider their pathetic lot, the two of them utterly drenched and shivering, Luke coughing miserably, and couldn’t help a disgusted sigh at herself.  Brilliant, she thought.  Nothing like a plan that almost gets us both killed.

Slowly Luke turned onto his back and lay still for a minute, chest heaving.  Mara nudged his ankle with the toe of her boot.  “You okay?” she asked.

She was a little startled to find herself clearly aware of him thinking, I’m just enjoying the air, while he didn’t say a word, neither answering nor even looking at her for several more moments.  His presence was an absolute mess of emotions sprawled across his exhaustion and he wasn’t even trying to shield any of it.  “No,” he finally croaked aloud.  “Not really.  But…”  With a groan and a wince he sat up, swaying a bit.  Mara leaned forward to steady him, but he grasped the rail, and she found herself oddly hesitant to touch him now.

Luke was staring at her, his eyes unfocused yet piercing, his gaze rapt like a man drunk on a vision of the sublime.  And as the weight of his regard bore down on her features, the weight of his spirit felt like molten ore poured into her veins, solidifying into something unbreakable.

Regret flickered across his face, and Mara felt him withdrawing, trying to extricate himself from this intimacy for her sake.  But even with the cacophony of his pain and wonder growing quieter, an essence of him remained behind, imprinted in the depths of her mind, and somewhere deeper yet.  Her heart, she supposed, as romantic twaddle might espouse.

They’d undergone some fundamental change in the midst of that fighting bond, a link so strongly forged it was now seared like a brand upon their very souls.  Or, in less poetic terms, perhaps their mental patterns had been irrevocably altered to overlap one another, unable to disengage even after the battle was over.

Palpatine had insinuated himself on her, worming his way into her deepest affections, and she had welcomed him.  Luke hadn’t sought this of her, had only tried to work with her to save their lives, and now he was in her master’s place.

Mara could no longer summon the terror and revulsion she’d felt earlier.  There was nowhere left to run, nothing to take back.  She’d already been more exposed to him than if she was crouching naked in his sight.  Moreover, he’d likewise suffered under her own scrutiny.

A memory of his easy smile came to her from a decade before, when he’d casually confided some frivolous nonsense about the protocol droid aboard the Millennium Falcon, as if she’d been an old and dear friend of his, not a hostile agent bent on executing him.

Trust me.

Trust him, the way he’d always trusted her.

At last Luke tore his eyes away from her and looked out over the water with dread.  She could feel the fear rising in him, clamoring against his attempts to stay calm and evaluate the situation properly.  Mara knew it wasn’t for his own safety or even for the difficulty of their predicament.

With the New Republic ready to tear itself apart, you rushed off to save me.  Ignoring your self-delegated responsibilities in order to save that one woman and her one life.

“So that’s why you came,” Mara said.  His head turned back toward her.  “You saw me...dead.  In this.”

Her words drove a blade between his ribs and twisted.  Luke’s eyes dropped away to the small space separating them, despair warring with denial.  “Always in motion is the future,” he murmured, barely above the rush of the lake.

Now that stoked her ire.  After all this, he was still going to reduce everything to his blasted Force.  “Don’t start with your Jedi sh -”

Abruptly Luke sprang forward and took her by the hands, and with a painfully earnest look on his face he blurted out, “Mara, will you marry me?”

The question hit her like a punch to the throat, thoroughly stunning and leaving her speechless for a pair of heartbeats.  When she managed to scrape together a reaction, she shook her hands free of his grasp and pushed his arms away from her as if she’d been burnt, drawing a mental flinch from him.

Whatever she’d been expecting him to say next - let alone at any point in time ever - it wasn’t that.

“We’ve never even fucked, Skywalker,” Mara shouted, “and you’re asking me this now?”

Chagrin rippled through him, shifting to manic humor and a fleeting glimmer of lust that practically spelled out, I suppose it’s a little late for that now, huh?

Mara almost laughed aloud at his self-deprecating honesty, seized by the contagious urge to just rip his sodden and tattered fatigues off and get it over with right then and there.  Why not, when it might supposedly be her last moments alive.  Maybe their last moments alive.  But old bitterness arose to quash the ridiculous notion, whispering too little, too late.

“Funny that you’d fuck a student’s corpse before me,” she remarked, her voice surprisingly more sad than caustic to her ears.

If the whole fortress crumbled and came down on Luke’s head to bury him, it wouldn’t be enough to escape the accusation.  His cheeks flamed and his presence withered, trying to pack itself down as small and dense as a neutron star, leaving the mental space between them dim and cold.

Mara shut her eyes and sighed, turning the hurt and anger and disappointment over in her thoughts like the well-worn hilt of a dagger.  At this point her spite was as petty as his affections were too long in coming.

There wasn’t enough time.  There never was.

The water was lapping just a few handspans below the edge of the balcony.  It likely wouldn’t rise all the way up to the high domed ceiling, but their escape routes were completely cut off, the current not fast enough to carry them out such a long distance before they drowned.

With one hastily calculated move, she’d sentenced not only herself to death, but Luke as well.

I’m finally getting the job done fifteen years late, Mara thought bleakly.

But if he’d envisioned her body in the aftermath, it meant he would survive.  She just didn’t know how.

Vacant blue eyes glared back at her, smoldering with obtuse hatred before glazing over with the shock of death.  She’d given in to the command to stop the clone, to help save them all in the bowels of Mount Tantiss.  Maybe this was her final purpose - not to use the shackles of her past against her master and his remnants, but to give her own life to preserve the very one he’d sought to destroy.

Mara stared indignantly into the water where the clone alcove lay submerged but safely ensconced behind its thick transparisteel.  It irked her to no end that they were in peril but he’d be just fine, at least until he was scheduled to wake up and make his debut.

An idea began to coalesce in the part of her mind that wasn’t scattered and intruded upon.  Luke’s head jerked up immediately.

“That cloning apparatus,” she started.  “That’s got a pretty big generator, wouldn’t you say?”

“Probably,” Luke agreed, eyeing her warily.

“It’s a Braxxon-Fipps 590 fusion generator.  And we’ve got plenty of water here, and some very fragile tunnels of cortosis ore.  All we need is a way to get it wet.”

His eyes saucered.  “Mara, that’s a hell of a lot of- ”

“Exactly.  The only way we can get out of here now is to generate enough of a boom to possibly collapse and enlarge those passageways to speed up the drainage.  Unless you’d rather stay put and fuck my brains out until we run out of air.”

She was already in motion, holding the railing and preparing to swing a leg over it, but Luke grabbed her shoulder.  “Don’t.  I’ll go.”

“You know what a Paparak cross-cut is?” she retorted.

When he blinked and frowned dumbly she continued, “It’s a technique that puts delayed stress on a wall to give you enough time to get clear.  So no need to be the martyr today, and if I’m getting myself killed, it’s definitely not this way.”

Sighing, Luke relented and knelt by the railing to wait for her.  Once she stood balanced on the outer edge of the balcony Mara held out a hand.  “What I am going to need is to borrow your lightsaber.”

A lopsided smile split his face.  He turned around toward R2, and with a bright chirp the droid opened a compartment and out popped her lightsaber.  Mara stared flatly at both of them.

“...That’s why you were under there so long?”

Luke’s grin was positively bashful and yet a tad smug.  She scowled and reached over to snatch the weapon, and he caught her wrist, his hand sliding down to gently squeeze her fingers closed around the hilt.  Be careful.

Her lips stretched in a taut line, impatient and resigned, not quite a smile but an acknowledgement nonetheless.  Always, Farmboy.

The water was calmer and clearer now, easier to navigate, and the chamber’s stark lighting illuminated her way.  Luke’s anxiety hovered over her, restrained but irrepressible; he had faith in her expertise, but the fear of the unknown couldn’t be dispelled.  Mara tuned it out without completely pushing him away.

Soon she found herself floating before the clone again.  The great irony was that, had she been able to dispatch him earlier, the lakewater would have already flooded through the small breach of her blade and the unexpected blast might have killed both her and Luke.  She could just imagine the Jedi lecture about patience that would’ve inspired, if they’d managed to live through it.

Never mind the fact that this was her first time executing a Paparak on transparisteel.  But Luke didn’t need to know that either.

By the last cuts her lungs were starting to ache, so she could not afford any second-guessing.  Willing herself to be satisfied with her work, Mara shut down the lightsaber and swam for the surface.  The moment her head emerged and she was gasping a fresh breath, she felt the pressure around her midsection again - gentler and more evenly distributed this time - and found herself lifted above the water and quickly floating back toward the balcony.  Mara shook her head irritably at Luke’s overprotective gesture, especially considering that he was waiting for her with open arms ready to catch her.

As soon as she’d cleared the railing he was stepping around her and stretched his body over hers as a cover, and she could feel him concentrating on forming a Force shield against the impending explosion.  At the same time his hand was fumbling around her waist, prompting Mara to ask, “You change your mind about getting my pants off now?”

Luke puffed out something between a grunt and a chuckle, and then she heard the click of a coupling link onto her belt.  Glancing aside, Mara noticed the wobbling gleam of a safety line tethering her to R2, who had likewise secured itself to the balcony railing.  “How long?” he asked in return, breath warm on her neck.

“Honestly, I don’t know.  Could be a few more seconds to a couple minutes.”  Shivering harder now with the second exposure to the water, damp air, and cold floor beneath her, she had to begrudgingly admit appreciating Luke draping himself on top of her, despite the fact that he was equally wet.

They lay in awkward silence for several moments, until Mara pointed out, “He’s going to die to get us out of here.  I don’t hear you protesting that anymore.”

She twisted her head around to be able to see Luke’s expression, but she could already sense his grave resignation, his coming to terms with the blood he’d already spilled throughout his life, all the atoms of once-living beings scattered across the void of space from his exploits.

“I wouldn’t have kept him alive if it meant losing you,” he replied, fierce in his honesty despite the softness of his voice.

A loud crack and the sudden surging of water were followed by a blinding flash of light, and Luke hunched down over her, one arm hugging her tightly.  The noise was somewhat muffled by the water, but Mara still felt her ears pop from the pressure of the blast, electric pain shooting through her jaw.  Despite Luke’s Force shield, the first massive wave that crashed down over the balcony sloshed around and easily lifted them with violent impunity, slamming them against the stone wall and threatening to suck them back out into the chamber.  Several more times it struck and retreated, tossing them about like flotsam;  between the water, the safety line, and Luke’s hold on her, it seemed as though she was going to be ripped in half.

When everything stilled enough to let them recover, Mara spluttered and sagged beneath Luke’s weight, forcing water out of her mouth and nose.  He was coughing again, almost choking on a groan of pain or exhaustion, his chest a harsh bellows against her back.

“You all right?” she managed, her voice sounding canned to her ears.

“Yeah,” he whispered hoarsely.  His arms trembled as he rolled off of her and released the safety line, and as Mara pushed herself up onto her knees she didn’t think she felt much better herself.  But one look at the chamber confirmed that the effort had been worthwhile.

Only a single, flickering glowpanel had survived the explosion, but the dim light was just enough to let her see the water beginning to drain from the room back out into the tunnel.

“Guess it’s time to jump in?” she asked.  “Or should we just wait for it to clear out?”

“No.”  Luke’s reply came with the abruptness of a Force hunch.  “I don’t know why, but we shouldn’t.  We need to go now.  Even though it’s gonna be a long, cold, bumpy ride, and I’m not sure how much air we’ll have along the way.”

Mara recalled the last time he’d had an air issue with his escape route.  “Sounds like this is a job for cold-shirting.  Your kind of cold-shirting, anyway.”

He regarded her with an irreverent smile.  “You said that was crazy.”

“It’s not much crazier than this, I’ll admit.”  Uncertainty began to creep over the edge of her bravado.  It was a straightforward plan - let the current ferry them out.  And yet, some unknown threat remained along the way, something that could result in what Luke had seen.

She’d already slipped on a pile of leaves and knocked herself out.  Perhaps her end would be just as ignominious.  At least I’ll still have the satisfaction of having brought it on myself, she thought sardonically.

“We can’t both be completely out, though,” she countered.

“No, I’ll stay in a half-trance.  Just enough to reduce my oxygen demand but keep some awareness.  I won’t tether us this time; if one of us gets stuck somewhere, we all get stuck.”  He licked his lips nervously, bracing himself against the same fear of what lay ahead in their last ordeal to escape the fortress again.  “Take some deep breaths and think about what code phrase you want me to use to wake you up.”

A code phrase.  Right.  Mara nodded, her mind withdrawing to another time and distant place she had never been but could clearly picture, shrouded in pensive night, suffused with the scents of evergreen and engine exhaust from Imperial walkers.  Her hands were cuffed but her spirit could never be bound.  Across from her stood Vader, seemingly lost in thought as he studied his son’s new lightsaber held reverently in his grasp.  She had everything and nothing left to lose.

In the present, Luke gazed back at her with understanding, tenderness and apprehension mingling in his features.  He raised a hand to her face, thumb caressing her cheekbone and fingers brushing aside wet strands of her hair, and she felt his gentle influence begin to coax her toward sleep.

Seized by a sudden impulse, Mara resisted the trance’s onset and reached out to take hold of his jaw to bring his mouth to hers, kissing him roughly with a hunger that would never be sated.  If this was the end, then the sight of his face and the taste of his lips would be the last thing she could take with her into the darkness.

His breath was hers, and then the world faded away.

“Come with me.”

Consciousness rushed back into her, and Mara gasped reflexively, blinking away the water clinging to her eyelids.  Strong arms were holding her, and in the light of a glowlamp she could make out the resolving blur of Luke’s face looking down at her as if she was the birth of a new creation in his very sight.  Releasing his breath in a sigh of joy and relief, he smiled and gathered her up tightly, his laughter sounding almost like crying.  In the Force he shone like a pulsar, blazing out gratitude and the near-hysteria of having surmounted loss, and she could feel him shaking against her.  Slowly Mara wrapped her own arms around him and reached up to weave her fingers into his wet hair, stroking her nails softly over his scalp.

Yeah, Farmboy, I’m here.  I’m here.  You can’t get rid of me that easily.

Luke pulled away just far enough to rest his forehead against hers, his lips parted and his eyes full of yearning, and for a moment Mara thought he might kiss her in return.  But he held himself back, simply breathing in time with her, and she realized that he was waiting.  Waiting for her answer, and perhaps willing to wait for a lifetime, regardless of her decision.  Despite the illusion of freedom, there was something inexorable about his love that had nothing to do with mental or spiritual bonds.

They had time after all - time for her to wonder if there was something fundamentally wrong with her, time to investigate whether this bond could be undone, time to contemplate if was worth keeping, time to ponder a life with him that could consist of more than mere passing-bys and regret.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, and this time she meant it.