Unrequited- during KotOR 2 Visas/Mical (Disciple), LSF Exile/Atton
Disclaimer: All characters, etc. from the game Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic II belong to Obsidian Ent. and LucasArts.
A/N: Warning: this fic is going to be teh angst! I added a few things to lighten the mood, but, as the title suggests, this isn't meant to be a happy story. Also... there's a grope that happens, but nothing hot and heavy.
He reaches for me and I am afraid. His face is a pallid guise coming from out of the darkness. I tremble, and try desperately to shrink away from his hands. I want to move, to run, but my body is bogged down, like the weight of countless worlds is bearing down upon me. I'm unable to look away, and I see him; a dark swirling vortex of the blackest things. His gloved hand touches my face, and I feel cold. I shiver as the coldness surrounds me, entering my very being. I try desperately to push myself up, and off the metal floor beneath me. The hand on my face slides up, cupping my left cheek, and I realize that I'm no longer wearing my headband. My face is bare before him, and as his fingers continue to move against me, they begin to slip unevenly. My trembling hand reaches up, next to his, and I feel something sticky on my skin. Then pain begins to overwhelm my body as his hand continues, rising up to touch the area where my eyes would have been. It's always been sensitive, but this is different. What's happened to me? Realization sets in; the flesh that had once covered my eye sockets has been torn away.
I hear noises, as if from a great distance. Screams, bouncing off the walls of this ship. Screams that echo the death of my world, and all my people. I know these screams, they are my own, filled with terror and pain.
Hands seize me, pulling at my shoulders until my head shakes. But I can't stop. My voice shrieks, giving voice to a wellspring of suffering.
Visas came up from the dark, swimming to the surface of consciousness. Drawing in deep calming breaths, she sat up in her bunk. She was here, safely aboard the Ebon Hawk, in the starboard dormitory. The rough hands of her dream, blacker than the farthest reaches of Wild Space, were now the gentle hands of Mical. His pale blue eyes shone down at her in the darkness. She could feel his empathy, the compassion that rolled off of him in waves, and allowed herself a brief moment to cling to him before she relaxed her hands and released him.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly.
"Yes," she answered, trying to convince herself the truth of this as she spoke.
He'd done this before. Whether he felt her fear, or simply heard her cries, Mical was always the one to rush to her side when the nightmares came. The bad dreams came more and more frequently now that the confrontation with her former Master loomed closer than ever before.
Most days, Visas would meditate in lieu of sleep to gather the rest she needed. While she was awake, she felt renewed. The Exile had given her a purpose, awakened places deep inside her that she'd thought were dead and gone. Now she had room to hope, to dream, and to heal. Nihilus had sent her here because he was unable to understand the nature of this woman, whom they'd both felt through the Force from such a great distance. The fact that the Exile eluded her former Master's comprehension gave Visas hope that she would be the one to defeat him.
But in dreams, Nihilus haunted her still. She always found herself right back on board the Ravager, reliving the moments when she'd discovered that the dark monster who had distroyed everything in her life now held her captive, and that he'd brutally removed the skin that had covered her eye sockets while she'd been unconscious.
Groping in the dark, she reached over and grasped her veil, which lay neatly folded next to her pillow. Noticing her movements, Mical stood up from where he'd perched on the edge of her bunk. The first time he'd come here and found her without the crimson cloth, he'd tried to assure her that she needn't wear it in front of him. Not only was it considered a moral obligation in her culture to conceal the Miralukan mark upon her face, she also disliked the thought of Mical seeing the proof of her past suffering. Gentleman that he was, Mical didn't press the matter.
"Would you like me to fetch you some caffa?" he asked.
"No, thank you." His very presence soothed her, chased away her fear and the bad memories. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like it if you'd stay and meditate with me."
"Of course," he answered immediately, "it would be my pleasure." He was well versed in meditation techniques, understanding fully how it could be used to replenish the body as well as the spirit.
Visas placed her feet on the floor, and stood up from her bunk. She looked down, giving the impression of meekness that she so often strove for, but as she did, it allowed her to look Mical over without him being aware of it. He was handsome, broad shouldered, and tall. Perhaps in a normal time he would seem a little too young, but with the war that had been going on for so long, nobody seemed young anymore.
He was very magnanimous, always looking out for her as well as the others. He reminded Visas a bit of the men of her species in that way. He gave so much of himself to the mission and the crew, and with no thought of personal gain.
He led the way to the middle of the room, and they each chose a spot on the floor. Closing their eyes, they let the Force surround them, allowing Visa to find her center.
The Ebon Hawk and her crew were on their way back to Dxun. Kelborn, the Mandalorian who'd been left in charge when Mandalore had joined the Exile on her mission, had sent an urgent transmission asking that they meet with him there.
Along the way, Visas began to grow restless. Soon, the Exile would be ready. She would be strong enough to face Nihilus, and this would all be over. And hopefully, she'd finally be able to put her own past to rest, and stop the nightmares.
Feeling a sudden, burning need to be next to the other woman, Visas stood up from her place on the dorm's cold floor, and headed in the direction of the main hold. She was met with voices.
"You didn't see us alone when I rescued her from G0-T0's yacht. She expressed her true feelings for me," Atton was saying, leaning casually against the frame of one of the hallway entrances. His arms were crossed over his chest, and a smirk spread slowly across his handsome face.
As Visas entered, she saw that he was speaking to Mical, and that the Exile and HK-47 where both in the room with them. Flustered in a way that Visas had never seen her, the Exile glared furiously across the space that separated her from Atton. "My... Why, you brainless, shifty, pazaak-playing, gizka-face!" Her cheeks were flushed and her chest was heaving with her deep angry breaths. Her eyes shot murder at the pilot as he just leaned there and laughed at her.
"Gizka-face?" Uncrossing his arms, Atton stood up straight, then walked over to Mical, who looked equal parts alarmed and distressed by the turn their conversation had taken. "Must have hit pretty close to the mark to get her all riled up like that, huh, kid?" he asked the younger man with a grin.
Mical, for his part, looked back at Atton with disbelief written all over his face, while the Exile looked like she was going to scream in frustrated anger. Setting her chin into a stubborn angle, she stomped over to the two men. Atton held up his hands in a defensive way, laughing. Instead of hitting the scoundrel, the Exile surprised them all by reaching out and cupping Mical's freshly shaved cheeks in her palms. Looking over at Atton, she said, "Well, then, I guess you don't know everything about women."
And with that, she pulled Mical in and kissed him.
From where she stood, Visas could tell that it took Mical a moment to even close his eyes, he was so shocked. When he did react, it was to slide his arms around the Exile's waist and pull her up against him as the kiss deepened.
You could hear a pin drop as everyone present looked on in astonishment. Atton cleared his throat, loudly, and Mical released her, a blush creeping up to stain his high cheekbones. The Exile just looked smug as she glanced Atton's way then headed off in the direction of Kreia and the port dorms. Atton looked at Mical wide-eyed, then shaking his head, he left, too, heading back to hide out in the ship's cockpit.
Visas watched Mical, who held a look of wonder on his face, as he slowly licked his lips. Feeling sick and hollow inside, she quietly said, "Excuse me." Then she retreated back to the starboard dorm.
She was able to hear the assassin droid begin to tease Mical as she left. "Amused statement: Meatbags. Their need to confuse each other by pressing their slimy, mucus-covered lips together still makes me wish I could press a blaster pistol to my behavior core and pull the trigger."
The hollow metal clank of the settling ship echoed throughout the quiet room and the smell of antiseptic hung heavily in the air. Visas sat up on the exam table in the Ebon Hawk's medical bay as Mical rifled through a drawer next to her.
They'd fought their way through the tomb of Freedon Nadd and were now back at the ship, awaiting the Exile's return. It had been a dark place, filled with Sith Troopers and Dark Jedi. It was heavily tainted by the dark side, still bearing the mark of the dead Dark Lord who'd conquered Onderon so long ago.
Led by Mira, Visas and Mical had cleared the tainted place of the Sith presence, and all three had been left drained of the Force. Visas had taken more damage than the other two. She didn't know if it was due to her fear; she'd felt the impact, the hold the Dark Side still had over that place, or it could simply have been the fact that Mira and Mical had both been wearing Jal Shey armor, so they'd had better protection.
Now Mical was here, tending to her wounds the old-fashioned way. He'd had extensive medical training during his time as an historian on Dantooine, so Visas didn't give her injuries another thought. What she could think about, however, was the fact that she was developing feelings for this kind man. And now here they were, alone, and she sat before him wearing only her skirt.
Though damaged, her sight allowed her to see through walls when she chose, and doing so now, she could see that Mira was outside, building a fire and awaiting their leader.
She'd removed her veil along with her top, and shorter layers of her dark hair fell forward to cover her eyes. He worked fast, efficiently, as she shielded her full breasts from his gaze with her hands. He bandaged up her ribs, and as he did so, she could read his every emotion. Atton had been the one to tend to her before, when she'd first boarded this ship and fought with the Exile, so this was the first time Mical had seen all the scars that marked her body, and it left the man feeling shaken and sad. He was in pain, sympathizing with her, and all she'd been through since Nihilus had first set his sights on Katarr. He also felt guilt and regret, for the things he'd said, his judgement of her and how "not everyone can be saved".
He was curious, too, and tender, and Visas supposed that while he was well trained, he was still a healthy young man who wasn't unaffected by her current state of dishabille.
She could also feel within him a hint of jealousy, of all things. He was thinking about the Exile, and her decision to leave him behind on Dxun while taking Atton along with her to Onderon. Mical's love for the Exile shone pure and true, but the question really was: where did the Exile's affections lie? The kiss the two had shared on the journey here could be construed in all kinds of ways. But whether she'd meant it or not, Mical had looked upon it with hope. His admiration for the Exile knew no bounds, but then, so did Visas's.
It would be so easy for her to just let her hands drop, and bring Mical's warm palms against her bare flesh. Move on how she felt inside, and see if perhaps there might be something there on Mical's end, too. But she'd never even think of doing such a thing. For one, her own happiness didn't matter. Only her loyalty, and how she felt about the Exile did. She'd been nothing before she'd found the other woman, and as long as there was any question, if it were even a possibility that she returned Mical's affections, then Visas knew she would keep her feelings for this wonderful man buried deep inside. And then there was the matter of who and what they both were. You couldn't truly love someone unless you really knew them. You have to understand every part of them, and Visas knew that she would never be able to have that degree of closeness with someone like him. She was damaged. Nihilus had changed her for ever, she had a deep seeded darkness inside that would never go away, could never heal, no matter what she did or how she lived the rest of her life. If she ever tried to show every part of herself to him, he would be changed, too. What made Mical the man he was, and what made Visas love him, was his innocence, his hope, and his goodness. If he were ever to see the deepest, darkest parts of her, Visas was terrified that she would damage him, the same way the her former Master had damaged her.
He spoke, as if he were trying to distract them both from the task at hand and lighten the heavy atmosphere. "They sure have been gone for a very long time," he said, finishing up her bandages and setting the remaining roll aside. "I hope everything's alright."
"I'm sure that they are fine," she replied softly. She noticed that he didn't make a move to help her cover up even though he'd finished tending her injuries. He seemed almost fascinated by the bare skin between her covered breasts. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed heavily. She felt breathless, vulnerable, and weak, but not in the bad way that she was so used to feeling those emotions. It felt good, exciting and new. Logically, she knew she couldn't allow her feelings for him to remain as they were. But in this moment, she was almost tempted to let him know just how precious he was to her.
The Exile and Atton headed back to the Basilisk that had brought them crashing down to Onderon's surface from the clear blue sky overhead. Things had been straightened out here, Vaklu was in custody, and Queen Talia had been re-established as Onderon's rightful ruler. Seeing the small but beautiful woman face to face, you'd never know that she was directly descended from Freedon Nadd himself.
They needed to get back to Dxun and the Hawk. Kreia would know what the next step would be on their journey.
Before she had a chance to enter the cramped space of the Mandalorian war droid, the Exile found herself shoved up against the door's cold metal plating.
"My turn, I think," Atton said a second before his mouth came down over hers. Holding her tightly, he pressed her back against the hard surface of the ship, his kiss wild and consuming.
The scoundrel might have only been trying to one-up the Disciple, but being this close to him, feeling his body against hers, the Exile found herself overwhelmed with feelings. Foremost of which were desire and love.
Visas watched Mical's expression change as the worry and jealousy inside of him sharpened, becoming full-blown envy and anger. His eyes became cold blue chips and his mouth firmed into a hard line. He could feel it. They both could. The bond that they shared with the Exile allowed them to sense what was happening now between her and Atton.
He didn't have time to feel hurt or think anything through, just to act, and when he did, it was to grasp the beautiful woman in front of him by her upper arms, and pull her against him, roughly covering her soft red mouth with his own. Along with the knowledge of the Exile's current actions and feelings, had come a taste of her emotions, her passion and desire, and both Mical and Visas reacted strongly to it.
Briefly, Visas let herself be swept up by the sensations, responding passionately to Mical's lips and tongue. He tasted sweet and clean, and he kissed her without reserve or hesitation. She felt his right hand come up, sliding across her forearm until it reached where she was covering herself. He pulled her palm back, away from her soft flesh, and she felt the cold air of the room touch her. Visas returned to herself with a jolt as she felt his calloused fingers brush against the soft inner curve of her left breast.
They couldn't do this. He was reacting to his jealousy, hoping to get back at the Exile by succumbing to the temptation she'd posed by being undressed in his presence. And hurt, anger, passion, jealousy, these were all emotions that fed the Dark Side of the Force. It didn't matter that she wanted him, wanted this, what mattered was that he was not himself. He was upset, and she wanted to soothe him. But not like this.
The Exile was going to need them both, but especially Mical, and his light, his goodness, and purity to get her through the dark times to come.
"Stop," she said, tearing her mouth from his. He ignored her, his mouth moving to kiss the soft skin of her neck, sliding deep biting kisses down her throat. Turning his hand, he cupped her soft flesh, squeezing exploringly. "Mical, please," she stressed the last word, and it caught his attention.
Moving quickly, he pulled back, and fumbled around for her top. Handing it to her, he turned his back and waited while she pulled it on. When the soft rustle of cloth stilled, he turned to face her again. "I apologize," he said, sounding shaky and confused.
"It is not necessary. I understand what it is that you feel. But we need to be strong. We need to be here for her when she returns." Together they would help her, keep her strong for what lay ahead.
Raking his fingers through the golden strands of his hair, he blew his breath out in an exaggerated sigh. "I love her," he said softly.
Bowing her head, Visas replied, "I do, too."
A/N: I've planned out a part 2 of this that I've tenatively titled 'Answers'. I want to see some more Mical/Visas moments, and perhaps what happens when the Exile makes her choice. I kind of like it this way, though, it just seems so tragic to me. Please review and let me know whether you'd like me to continue or not.