Val woke with her head on the edge of the mattress and Anakin snoring softly beside her. It took her a moment to remember where she was, why her back ached like she hadn't moved in a hundred rotations, and why Anakin was in her bed. One by one, memories came crashing back into her. Khan. The duel. Anakin was injured. Anakin was okay... Anakin knows.

She sat up quickly and reached a hand behind her back. She pressed down on the area around the base of her spine and found the source of the aching. Val winced in discomfort and readied herself to move or else the pain would only grow. The soreness was the one part of the brace she couldn't bring herself to be grateful for. She knew the discomfort was a small price to pay, but it was a constant reminder that her ability to walk was not her own. She had come to terms with every other aspect, even the regular malfunctions; the repairs gave her an appreciation for mechanics. But there were few things more depressing than knowing the pain can never go away; not if she wanted to continue walking.

It was a truth she couldn't kill, and would therefore have to live with - somehow.

Val's eyes turned to Anakin and the metal arm supporting his head, and wondered if he felt the same phantom affliction she did. She shook her head and somehow knew he didn't. She rolled her shoulders and stood, sparing a backwards glance to the small kitchen. Val didn't have Rowan's assortment of teas and plants. Despite Rowan's attempts to sneak some life into Val's vacant room, the pot plants always ended up back in her friend's quarters - it gave Val an excuse to be in her own room as little as possible.

Val quietly exited the room and tiptoed over to Rowan's door, edging it open and stepping inside. Rowan, like most sane people, was still asleep and Val didn't wake her this time. She took extra care to walk with padded steps and to skirt around the clutter of books, pots, and clothes on the floor. When she reached the tea rack, she noted that her options had changed since she had last been there.

Val casted her mind back to Rowan's lectures about medicinal properties in plants - Val had enjoyed those spiels more than she had cared to admit. She recalled that the chrysanthemum flower buds aided recovery from physical injuries and exhaustion. Anakin could use all the help he could get with that. She placed a rag over the kettle to muffle the whistling as best she could, pausing when she heard Rowan shuffle in her sleep. Deadly assassin and the heaviest sleeper Val knew.

She prepared the tea bags quickly - flower heads and rhubarb roots - and steeped it in the tea cup. She waited a few minutes, letting the calming scent of flower fields and the autumn wind fill her mind, before removing the tea bag and carefully carrying the cup to the door. She smiled softly at Rowan and left.

It had occurred to her that she may not be as quiet as she thought she was, that perhaps her departure had awoken Anakin, but when she returned to her room he was still deeply asleep. And Rolfe sat in the chair across from him.

She had to force her hands to be still, to not drop the fragile porcelain, as Rolfe turned his pitless eyes towards her. For a moment there was silence, she wasn't sure she breathed, but then the Captain turned his gaze away from Val and surveyed the sleeping Jedi. She took that as a sign to continue forward. She placed the tea on the counter and almost instinctively, her eyes strayed to her swords that lay discarded in the corner. Val shook her head - the Captain wasn't here to harm Anakin, and even if he were, there was nothing she could do about it. That truth glazed her skin like oil on water, she couldn't accept it but it wasn't possible to expel it either - it was always there, like an ever present itch, reminding her that whatever promises she made Anakin, she would always be a pirate first.

"Will he recover?" The Captain's tone was short and coated with a thin, fabricated layer of concern. Val was taken aback. She thought that he might regret his decision to make Anakin fight yesterday, and was now concerned whether Anakin's state would affect his agreement with the Republic. A small, prideful voice in her head said see, this is what your cowardice has cost you.

"He will in a few weeks." She answered. A vengeful part of her heart hoped that when the trade occurred, when Master Kenobi saw what happened to his former padawan, he would demand the ransom be lowered because Anakin was, in fact, harmed. It felt like second-hand satisfaction - retribution she had not received that Anakin would.

Rolfe watched the Jedi carefully; a new scheme on how to best avoid the repercussions he would face from the Order was likely already forming in his mind. He stood abruptly, and walked to the door without sparing her a glance. He was behaving strangely, she noted. He seemed rushed and somewhat distressed rather than his usual nonchalant, crafty nature

"The Republic re-established connection. They have the funds and I have selected a neutral planet for the trade-off. We anchor in six days." The Captain told her.

She wanted more information. Was she not owed that as his second? She wanted to know which planet it was, why they were only meeting in six days when both parties are ready now, why he no longer trusted her? But once again, Rolfe revealed nothing. And something told her no good would come of pressing him.

"He is to be back in his cell by wake up." His final command.

The door clicked behind her and they were alone again.

Val sighed, her eyes darting around the room like she no longer recognised it now that it had been shadowed by the Captain's presence. She checked the time on her wrist pad. Wake up was in little under half an hour, she should rouse Anakin and check his injuries before then. She gingerly sat in the chair Rolfe had just been in, unnerved by the lack of warmth left behind.

Val watched the steam rise from the tea cup beside her, wishing she could escape the choices she had made when she knew no better just as easily. Anakin stirred in front of her. She watched as he slowly opened his pale blue eyes and raised his head. His expression showed the same confusion she had felt when she awoke, then followed by clarity. He groaned and his head fell back onto the pillow.

"This," His voice was rougher and deeper than usual, addled by sleep, "Is a first for me."

Val huffed a laugh, pushing the tea within his reach. "Which part? Waking up in someone else's bed or waking up in an actual bed, Knight?"

"Very funny, seaflea, but we don't sleep on pallets on the floor." He rolled his eyes, but a tilted smile fell on his lips.

"Well, it wouldn't surprise me. Every other pleasure has been denied to you." Anakin gave her a secretive smile through hooded lashes, like he knew something she didn't. Val narrowed her eyes, and was about to ask when he continued.

"What I meant was waking up still injured."

"Oh," Her smile fell. Her eyes traced the injuries he sustained, the bruises were still an angry purple. A part of her felt responsible, as though it were her fault he wasn't better now even though she knew she had done her best - at least she had stitched the cuts well, they showed no signs of infection. "Why's that?"

She figured he would tell her information she already knew, but it was nice to hear his voice. She crossed her ankle over her knee and listened.

"When you're injured in a battle, they retrieve you and put you into a Bacta tank. It's filled with a fluid that accelerates healing and they only take you out when you're completely healthy again. Sometimes, it takes days."

Val nodded along thoughtfully. She had never been in a Bacta tank but she had heard of them, seen them in action.

She wondered if a Bacta tank could have repaired her spine, undo the damage. It had been a strange compromise, Val realised with a start - to regain the freedom that came with mobility, she had given up the freedom inherent in choice. Rolfe had never allowed her the privilege of both - she walked for him, and him alone.

"Well, I'm afraid we don't have fancy stuff like that here. Just good ol' needle and thread." She said with a smirk, pushing her thoughts of 'what if' away.

She expected a remark about piracy having its downfalls or a joke about the perks of fancy Republic machinery. She had not expected what he said. "Well, it worked pretty well. Thank you, Val."

Her smirk fell. "You don't need to thank me."

I'm part of the reason you're in this mess.

He smiled, "But I want to. You saved my life."

No, I didn't.

For a moment Val was speechless. She wasn't used to being thanked for good deeds; she rarely did good deeds. But this hadn't felt like a Samaritan act, it felt like a blood debt. If Anakin had died, there would be a shadow lingering over her, giving voice to the words that had been carved into her heart for a lifetime; your fault your fault your fault.

If Anakin didn't make it, then he wouldn't be the first Jedi to die near her hand.

She cleared her throat, her words stammered. "Yeah, well. Your Master gave me the impression you get yourself into these situations a lot. Be a shame if you died now after pure stubbornness has kept you alive for so long."

There was a fleeting look of disappointment in his eyes, like she had not said what he wanted her to say. But she didn't know what he wanted her to say, what he wanted her to be, so she simply handed him the tea cup.

They were silent as he drank. Val watched the minutes tick away until their little bubble of respite would burst. She lifted her coat off the ground and pulled it back on, the warmth encasing her shoulders. The necklace clattered to the floor. Strangely, she hadn't noticed its absence - four years of wearing it every day, every hour, and now she barely missed the weight. Too many changes were occurring at once and the dread that felt like being swept into a riptide kept growing. When she slipped the chain back around her neck, she thought the crescendo of her heart would cease but the drumming only seemed to get louder.

"The Captain ordered you back in your cell by wake up. That's now." Val informed him, standing to her feet.

"I suppose he doesn't trust me when I'm not in chains." But not even her heart beat could drown out his voice as he spoke.

"I don't think he trusts you, chained or not." I don't think he even trusts me, she thought bitterly, recalling his odd behaviour earlier. The concern he had shown for Anakin was uncharacteristic, profit at risk or not, and he refused to share his plans with her - she was his second in command, surely that meant something.

But then Anakin, laughing and whole, spoke again. "That's probably wise."

He sat up, wincing at the pain in his ribs and decided he didn't prefer the 'old fashion' remedies. Val helped him stand, a smile on her lips at his gracelessness, so different from his usual fluidity but so much more amusing. Her gaze moved to his loosely covered chest, the white bandages securing his injury. Her hand travelled down to the area. She pressed down lightly.

"How badly does it hurt?" She asked, trying to get a sense of the internal damage now that the adrenaline had faded.

"It's not that bad," Anakin seethed, pain dousing his features yet he grinned nonetheless. "Only hurts when I breathe."

Val pulled her hand away immediately. She sighed in worry, straightening and tying his robes perfectly. The action had been so instinctive, so natural, that she hadn't even realised what she had done until his eyes were gazing curiously down at her. She racked her brain for an excuse for her familiarity, but none came to mind. Nothing believable at least.

"Well, I'm afraid there's not much I can do about that. I've only got this salve." She reached for the small metal tin and handed it to him, desperately trying to push her action into forgotten memory.

He seemed to sense how uncomfortable she was and took the salve wordlessly, pocketing it. She was grateful for his understanding nature; the way he seemed to recognise how she felt before she did, but never pushing her about it.

"We should go." She said, turning away from him to face the door, "Before everyone starts crowding the halls."

He nodded and followed her out the door. Thankfully, they encountered no one on their way back down to the brig and she returned Anakin to his cell before the corridors were consumed with unruly pirates. Val surveyed Anakin's barren cell, the cold uncomfortable metal, and had an idea.

"I'll be right back." She disappeared back the way they came. Anakin waited silently, seated on the ground when the strain of standing became too much. She hadn't reactivated the bars, he realised. He could leave, disappear while no one was watching - but strangely, the idea had begun to lose its appeal. A few minutes later, Val appeared in silhouette at the top of the stairs, hauling something large behind her. As she got closer, Anakin realised she was wheeling a bed, like the one in her quarters, to his cell. Val pushed the steel frame against the far wall.

"Where'd this come from?" He asked - how in hell did you get it down the stairs, was his next question.

Val hesitated for a long moment before answering, "I just remembered there's a vacant room in my hall and you need a proper bed if you're to fully recover."

He was about to thank her, again, when she continued speaking, "I've been assigned to other duties today so your orders are to rest, understood? Don't make me have Rowan babysit you." She mockingly commanded, a tilted smirk on her lips.

Anakin rolled his eyes, but jokingly nodded his understanding like a good soldier. Val smiled once more, before she disappeared.

That night, as Val slept on Rowan's floor, it occurred to her how incomprensible the link she shared with Anakin was. Like no matter how powerful the tide that dragged her away year after year, she always seemed to wash up on the same beach made of towering skyscrapers and moonlit democracy. He was inexplicably tied to her and her past - the truth she tried to keep buried. But she was beginning to realise that secrets buried in snow always melt when the earth thaws, and what's left underneath may be broken and badly stitched but it was hers nonetheless.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There were four days of peace, four days of rest and restoration for Anakin. Everytime Val went to check on him, the bruises faded further from purple towards yellow, the split scalp closed quickly, and the gash sealed with a thin layer of eschar that proved he was okay. After the second day, Anakin had begun working out as best he could. When she had asked him why he had said.

"I wasn't ready in that arena, I don't want to slip again." When he saw her concerned expression, he stood from his push ups and grinned at her. "I'm healed enough. Besides, it helps to pass the time when you're not here."

She wasn't there often. Ever since it had occurred to her how tightly wound together they were, she had tried her damndest to distance them. She told herself it was for his sake but she wasn't entirely sure.

Her offer of friendship had been immature and foolish; she realised that now. On this ship, they could be friends in the barest sense - allies more than anything else; her loyalty could only extend so far. But once the Republic came to save him, they would be ripped apart like an open wound that had only just begun to mend. There was no hope for a Jedi and a pirate, bound by Codes in direct conflict. If they were not servants to two different tyrants, perhaps there would be a chance; but some bonds are not so easily severed. And would they even choose to sever those bonds for each other?

Her instincts told her no. She had been a pirate longer than Anakin had been a Knight, but she knew this was a path that could only take her so far, to the edges of the galaxy but never beyond. There was no guarantee Anakin would be any different. Anakin had his own Masters to serve and wars to win, and she knew she could not fit into that life of nobility anymore than he could fit into her life of piracy.

She shook her head, clearing the thoughts away. It was an impossible situation, and therefore not worth dwelling on. From her place on the mattress, she looked to her left to see Anakin still exercising, using the metal rafters to pull up on - she was only here now because Rolfe ordered it; the Captain was still foiling her plans without even knowing it. Anakin had removed all but the bottom layer of his robes and she was doing her absolute best to look anywhere but his sweat-slicked skin - it wasn't that he made her uncomfortable, quite the opposite really and that's why it scared her.

The metal shuddered as he dropped down and she wordlessly passed him a water skin. He took a seat on the floor beside her, his head leaning against the wall and his eyes closed. Val realised she was waiting for him to say something. He didn't.

Their silence wasn't comfortable nor peaceful. It was a living, breathing thing that was restlessly pacing the line she had drawn between them. An unmovable overpass neither of them knew how to cross so they didn't try. Later, she would learn how to fill the gaps in his silence with unspoken words, the flutter of his eyelashes that denoted memories or the upturn of his lips that signified content. Later, she would know him.

Anakin reached for his robes and pulled them back on. He turned to her, opened his mouth to speak, when a collision with the ship sent them sprawling.

They were both on their feet instantly. Val turned to the port window, surveying the passing nebulas and stars but couldn't see what caused the impact. Anakin turned to her questioningly, his fingers curved towards his robes like an invisible lightsaber rested there.

"It must have been a current." She answered, unsure. She raised her holopad to signal Rowan when a frantic figure appeared racing towards them. It took her a moment to recognise him; his name was Fig, more messenger than fighter, and he was yelling her name.

"Seaflyer, the Captain needs you on deck! The ship's being attacked by a giant!" He didn't stay after relaying the message and ran back the way he came.

Val and Anakin locked eyes and, wordlessly, she deactivated the cell and grabbed her sword scabbards that were leaning against the outside wall. She didn't even question it as the both sprinted towards the deck in the middle of the ship, on the highest level. They raced through the halls, Anakin half a step behind Val. More tremors shook the ship almost periodically and they had to hold the walls to remain steady.

They reached the control deck, a large high ceilinged room filled with machinery and computers to fly the ship, with a wall of windows looking out to the external front deck of the cruiser. The room was already crowded with pirates, and several people were muttering in fear or curiosity, a stream of 'what is that?' and 'what do we do?' flooded past her ears. Val turned to the source of the alarm, and found it just beyond the glass.

It was the largest creature Val had ever seen, almost half the size of the ship. It was iridescently coloured, the translucent quality of its skin illuminated by the nearby sun. It had four incredibly long tentacle appendages and webbing that would have caused the tremors when it attached itself to the hull. Val found it breathtakingly beautiful and would have taken hours to admire it, if it weren't currently trying to crush the ship.

Val turned to find the Captain, when she saw Khan pointing his blade at Anakin's throat. Instantly, Val held her sword up to Khan. Anakin's eyes flickered between her and the Dathomirian, as though deciding whether moving towards her would ensure his safety or set Khan off.

"What is this?!" The Captain strode towards them. "What is the Jedi doing out of the brig?" His question was directed at her but her eyes didn't leave Khan - being deemed the lesser threat had never sat well with the Captain.

"Seaflyer, lower your sword immediately!" He demanded, his voice like thunder against the window pane.

Val didn't move. "Khan lowers his first."

The disbelief, the rage, that clouded Rolfe's face at being disobeyed - completely disregarded, in fact - would have been terrifying if Val had been looking. For once, Anakin was the one to diffuse the situation.

"I've fought one of these creatures before. I can help." Anakin was never one to beg, but he was willing to lay himself low in the interest of making the Captain see sense. Even Rolfe had to know that there was no sense of dying for pride.

The Captain regarded him coldly, before giving an imperceivable nod to Khan. Both the Dathomirian and Val lowered their blades, though neither took their eyes off the other.

"Speak." The Captain ordered.

Anakin sighed but complied. "It's a space borne creature. A much smaller variation of the Summa-verminoth, I'd wager. It doesn't need air and it feeds only off of collapsing stars. It's native to the Kessel sector." Anakin repeated what he knew like an encyclopedia.

"That's not many parsecs away from here." One of the ship operators informed them from their console. Anakin stored the piece of knowledge, the only real clue he had to their location. Everyone cried out as the ship was struck again, the leviathan squeezing the ship so tightly the metal buckled.

"Then why is it attacking us and how do we kill it?!" The Captain demanded. The lights flickered, bathing the room in emergency red.

"I don't know, it may see the ship as a threat so it reacted. Its skin is impervious to most weapons but heavy duty blasters or turrets might be enough to deter it. What guns does the ship have?" Anakin replied, holding onto the edge of a console. The Captain looked to one of the operators for an answer.

A different one from before informed them. "Even if our guns could injure it, they're unable to fire at the monster without irreparably damaging the ship in the process."

The Captain cursed, "Then I guess we do this the old fashioned way. Activate the external gravity field. Khan, Ridge, Vertigo," The Captain called, pointing at those he listed until finally, "Seaflyer. Suit up. You're going out there."

No one argued, for fear or otherwise. They all seemed to realise that if they didn't engage, the creature would rip a hole in the ship and they'd all die anyway - after all, pirates were no strangers to risk.

Val began walking over to where those who were named had gathered, when she felt a grip on her arm. Anakin had grabbed her wrist, holding her in place.

"My lightsaber is the only thing that can cut through its skin. I'm going with you." It wasn't a request. Val nodded her agreement but the Captain roughly pulled them apart, standing between them.

"You're acting without my orders? What got in your head and made you think you can make these calls?" The Captain didn't even look at Anakin. His attention was solely on Val, who for once did not feel like cowering or shrinking into herself to accommodate his ego. She had as little interest in dying as anyone else aboard this vessel and she wasn't about to let Rolfe's paranoia and lust for power get them all killed.

"He's a Jedi. If anyone stands a chance of saving us, it's him and his lightsaber. It would be foolish of you to disregard that for pride." Val spoke boldly, assuredly, as she had never spoken to him before. She had questioned and ridiculed him in anger only rarely, with dire consequences, but this was a new facet of her crystalline mind. The side that was a born leader; a side she had kept hidden because it never had a place in Rolfe's world.

They stared each other down and for a moment, Rolfe looked as though he might end her with a blaster bolt through the heart like he had contemplated doing all those years ago. For a fraction of a second, she wished he would. She could dodge faster than he could draw, and she would put her own blade through his chest. The thought came to her so abruptly - wholly not of her own mind - and so steeped in blood that she wasn't ready when the ship tipped. She would have fallen if Anakin hadn't grabbed her wrist, holding her to him as the ship rolled to the left. Everyone scrambled for purchase amid the steel consoles and railings, before they fell back to a horizontal position.

"It's tearing the ship apart!" Someone cried, and that left no room for Rolfe to argue. He never voiced his permission, but Val had wasted enough time working around his delicate sensibilities.

Despite his injuries, Anakin kept pace with Val as they raced through the winding corridors of the Reaper to the Captain's quarters. Val threw the door open and directed Anakin to the far wall. His lightsaber was still displayed in the centre and she could feel Anakin's rage fill the room, hot and suffocating.

"I know." She said, the second-hand fury tempering her bloodstream, and he seemed to understand. He sighed and freed the weapon from it's rack. Val felt his anger dissipate like it had been doused by water as he held his lifelong companion in his hands again.

"This is the longest I've been without it." He remarked, turning it over in his palm like it was the first time he was seeing it. It was a simplistic but elegant weapon, silver with black etching - she knew the kyber crystal within shone blue.

"I'm sorry." Was all Val said, her mind preoccupied. She turned in a slow circle. She was distracted by the familiar pull that she always felt in this room, though now it was less of a disorienting tug and more like a cacophony of force. It drew her in every direction, as though mimicking her scattered mind. She looked to Anakin and was surprised to see the same confusion mirrored on his face - though, he was even more shocked to find that she felt it.

Val tried to ask what it was, why it drew her in like a riptide, but then the ship was struck again much harder than before. She let the question die on her lips and the two sprinted back to the deck.

When they arrived, all the other pirates were already on the external deck, fighting the creature. Val led Anakin to a side room where the deep space suits and jetpacks were stored. She handed Anakin a suit in his size and they both donned the thick material over their clothes and gas masks - the custom boots were designed to grip to the ship's external deck, negating the need for life lines. She watched Anakin secure his lightsaber to his belt, a memory at the edge of her mind. She shook her head. She needed to focus.

Val reached for a blaster hanging on the wall, holstering it at her waist. She held one out to Anakin.

"Jedi don't use blasters." He replied.

Val rolled her eyes, pocketing the second blaster as well. "Suit yourself."

Lastly, they secured two jetpacks to their backs before standing in front of the airlock compartment. Val looked to Anakin, her hand on the release pad. "You ready?"

She couldn't read his expression and realised his mind went to the same quiet place hers did before a battle - where her emotions were overpowered by the stillness of her blades and the silence of her thoughts; there was no room for fear when the war drums beat. He nodded and she opened the hatch.

They were immediately met with the frigid expanse of space. She and Anakin made their way to the battle scene, silently preparing themselves for what was coming. Val halted in shock. Four of the crew were already dead, floating aimlessly through the void. The only one who seemed to be doing any damage was Khan with his ashen broadsword.

Val drew her dual blades and beside her, Anakin activated his lightsaber. Val saw the plasmatic blue blade from the corner of her eye, glowing like a neutron star. She smiled, feeling like a memory reborn. Together, they engaged the creature.

Anakin instinctively went for the head, using the jetpack to propel himself onto one of the arms and running across it like a catwalk. He felt the familiar rush of the Force converging around him, drawing strength into his body, as he vaulted into the air and speared the leviathan. His lightsaber could cut through most things with ease, but its skin was as tough and resistant as he had described. The creature cried out in pain, trying to throw Anakin off, but was barely injured.

Val took the lower path, attempting to untether the giant from the ship by hacking at the webbing that secured it. Killing the creature was her last resort, she would try to deter it first.

She felt something zing past her head and instantly ducked just in time to avoid a swipe from the creature's tentacles, a cut bloomed on her arm as she realised the underside of its limbs were serrated. Instead, it grabbed hold of Ridge who had been fighting beside her, tossing him into the black expanse.

The tentacle maintained its momentum towards Anakin, who had his back turned. Val drew her blaster and fired three shots in rapid succession. Swords and knives may be her specialty, but she was in no way a bad shot with a blaster; her bolts impacted exactly where she had intended.

Anakin felt the commotion and turned to engage the arm with his saber. Val watched him fight, mesmerised. The precision of his movements and the determination behind his actions - she couldn't imagine he ever hesitated. Anakin was a warrior by nature. She wondered if there was a cost to being so decisive; if there were times he regretted the blow but was unable to stop before it landed.

One day, her altruistic tendencies would get her killed.

In warning Anakin, she had failed to see a second appendage creep up behind her. It seized her by the calf. Her chin smashed into the metal floor and her sword and blaster clattered out her hands. A thousand glass fragments bit into her leg as it dangled her up in the air in front of its needle-point jaw.

Another crew member was swept away to her left but she hardly noticed - she had bigger concerns. She reached for her second blaster, suddenly grateful Anakin refused the gun, and fired at the creature's eyes. Blinded, it roared and flung her back down onto the deck.

Metal collided with metal and she groaned in pain. Her eyes widened when the tentacle came bearing down on her and she rolled to an upright position just in time. Suddenly, another arm struck at her and knocked her down, pinning her to the deck under its enormous weight. Up close, she could see it's skin was scaled and hard as stone, explaining why it was near unbreakable. Illuminated by the ship's external lights, the scales shone rainbow. Val would have loved to study it if she could breathe.

Val wheezed, trying to get air into her lungs but it felt as though her ribs were collapsing under the pressure. She turned her head. Her sword lay above her, just out of reach. Val extended her arm as far as she could, her fingertips unable to seize the hilt. The oxygen tank cut into her back, either moments away from tearing through the suit and her flesh or imploding on the spot - cutting off her air supply and leaving her to die on the outside of the cold ship.

She had always been able to suppress fear, but now she felt the prospect of death looming over her, creeping in as her vision blacked, like never before.

Desperately, she stretched for the sword again to the point of pain but no matter how she contorted, the blade only seemed to move further away. She held her breath, forcing every ounce of will she had into reaching the sword, into saving her life.

Slowly, as though on a phantom wind, the blade slid into her hand.

She held it in both hands, impaling the creature's flesh down to the hilt. It roared in pain and drew its tentacle away and she quickly pulled the sword free. Something akin to blood, opaque and glittering, flowed from the wound.

Val turned to survey the battle. Only she, Khan, Anakin and three others were left. And only Anakin seemed to be having any luck. He dodged and countered the creature's strikes like it was a rehearsed arrangement. With impossible agility, Anakin leapt over the leviathan's arm and struck a deep blow, the wound cauterising instantly.

The creature cried out and Val wondered whether it was enough to make it flee. But it turned and two arms flew towards Anakin. Val retrieved her fallen blasters and ran, shooting as she went, to draw its attention so Anakin could evade.

Together, the two of them played a dazzling game of keep away. Val fired only long enough to earn the creature's ire, before Anakin switched tactics and began attacking so she could wound it with her blades.

The battle seemed to last hours, a tireless struggle between push and pull. Anakin, in a last attempt to scare the creature away without killing it, leaped to an incredible height. He held his saber over his head, bearing down on one of the appendages with the full force of his lightsaber. With that one strike, he severed the arm clean off.

The leviathan screamed and detached from the ship. It floated aimlessly before swimming away with purpose. Its detached arm rolled lifelessly off the edge of the ship, as though following the body it had lost.

Anakin jumped down to Val's side, both panting from exertion. She tried to ask him whether he was okay, but couldn't seem to form the words.

But then he met her eyes, and words weren't necessary.

She grinned at him, blood coating her arm and leg, and laughed. A moment later, he began laughing too. Others had died around them, their bodies lifeless in the vacuum of space, but all she could think was that they were alive. Alive and together.

"Never thought I'd be able to say I fought a space monster." She said, her ribs aching but her heart felt full.

He winked at her, lightsaber still in hand. "Join the Order, and it'll happen all the time."

Her smile vanished for a moment, but he didn't seem to notice - rather watching the fading leviathan on its journey to the nearest sun. She pursed her lips, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"I'm glad we didn't have to kill it." He remarked, the sun illuminating the angles of his suit, the blue in his eyes, the tilt of his lips.

She smiled, softer, genuine. "I am, too."

He gave her a sideways glance, a cross between surprise and disbelief.

She huffed a laugh, "Glory isn't my currency of choice, buzzard."

He didn't smile, something like wonder on his face - as though he was seeing something in her that had previously gone unnoticed. She looked past him, ignorant of the realisation evident on his face, and saw the other survivors leaving. She tugged at his arm. Together, they descended back into the ship.

As soon as they entered the deck, the energy changed. With the external threat nullified, the pirates all turned to the internal threat. They loosely held weapons, not threatening yet but ready to turn violent in an instant. Anakin stood tall beside her, his lightsaber held tightly in hand. She could almost feel his thoughts; he didn't want to be separated from it again, didn't want to go back to a cage.

She realised then how much danger they were in - for once it wasn't Anakin in peril, but the pirates surrounding them, the pirates she was supposed to be aligned with. Anakin, reunited with his weapon, could kill them all and escape at this moment, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him.

The pragmatist in her, the pirate, said he was too powerful, nigh on invincible. The arena had been a test of Anakin's stamina, but this had been a test of Anakin's skill - and he was more dangerous than any of them had been prepared for. The primal part of her that bared its fangs when faced with a dangerous predator said she either had to run, or kill him before he killed her. But the truth of it was that she would refuse to attempt a killing blow even if he held his lightsaber to her throat, prepared to make that strike himself (make the strike first, if it meant his life).

And could she fault him? She had done far worse in the name of freedom.

Honour was a harsh concept in her mind. As much as she failed in its practice, she knew its meaning. However misguided it had been at the time, Val had made Anakin a promise and she would honour it. If he turned on them now, saved himself, she wouldn't fight him regardless of the fact that she knew she couldn't. If he escaped, she would bear the full force of Rolfe's rage but in secret, she would console herself with the knowledge that he was too strong for her. But the truth she would whisper only to the stars, was that she would have let him go.

Loyalty was a dangerous thing and, at this moment, hers was divided.

She was aware of Rolfe's eyes on her; expectant and threatening. He wanted her to take Anakin's weapon, escort him back to his prison, be the dutiful soldier. Val couldn't do it. If she led Anakin back down to the darkness of that cell, she might as well lock herself in with him. If the world had reached a point where valor and sacrifice was met only with hostility and imprisonment, then she no longer wanted any place in it.

What she really wanted was to argue on Anakin's behalf; scream that he had saved her life, all their lives, and deserved to be free. Even if he had left them all to rot, he would still deserve to be free - no one should have to earn their freedom. No one deserves to be trapped in a cage. The words echoed in the empty chambers of her heart, a half-forgotten melody.

Rolfe saw her hesitation, the argument resting on her tongue, and made the decision for her. He nodded to Khan, who moved towards Anakin. Val held herself back from stepping between them. She knew that if she intervened now, Rolfe would not let it be forgotten - he would make an example of her, and then she would never be allowed close enough to help Anakin ever again.

Anakin and Khan stared each other down and Val thought for a moment, Anakin would do the wise thing and fight. There was no doubt in her mind Rolfe had realised the full extent of Anakin's abilities as soon as she had and that put Anakin in more danger than he realised - Rolfe would now want to be rid of him as soon as possible. Val could only hope the trade off was ready to take place.

Anakin looked to the side in frustration, a war raging in his mind, but relinquished his lightsaber. Khan passed it back to Rolfe who held it like its very existence disgusted him. The Dathomirian and three others grabbed Anakin by the arms and took him back down into the dark of the ship.

Val watched him go.

Slowly, everyone filed out of the room. Repairs needed to be conducted immediately if they were to maintain course - though she had no idea what their heading was, Rolfe had declined to share that with her as well.

Finally, it was just Rolfe and Val. Master and servant.

Rolfe stared at her with all-seeing eyes, scrutinizing, until he eventually beckoned her closer. She came to stand a meter away from him, an impersonal distance but also a safe one. Silently, he held Anakin's lightsaber out to her.

Suspicious, she took the weapon from him, turning it over in her hands. The metal was weighted and cold, yet she felt a sense of tranquility and comfort when she held it - she felt Anakin. She knew Jedi activated their lightsabers with the Force, but most had small buttons if a non-force wielder or someone who lost touch with the Force had to activate it for whatever reason. Val's finger hovered over the button, both curious and afraid.

"Do you know what that is?" Rolfe asked her plainly. Her eyes snapped to his, confused as to why he was asking a question he was aware she knew the answer to.

"Of course I do." She answered slowly, "It's a lightsaber."

"And who wields it?"

"A Jedi."

"Are you a Jedi?" He asked the question so quietly, so calming, that she barely registered what he had said. She felt the invisible walls of a worded cage closing in around her, but struggling like a worm on a hook was pointless when she knew there was no way out.

She handed the lightsaber back to him. "...No."

"Then stop acting like one. He is not your kind." Rolfe eyes burned with ire, a resentment so cold she felt the room temperature drop. Val took a step back in fear, half-ready to bolt should he turn to violence like he always did. Her show of submission, her fear, seemed to placate him; his volume decreased and he spoke softly.

"You are becoming a liability, Valerie."

Valerie. The name sounded sharply in her ears, both memory and nightmare. Val and Valerie were not the same; she was another person entirely, a remnant of a life long since passed - a life she had no hope of returning to, so she had never dared hope. Rolfe had erased Valerie four years ago when he placed a blade in her hand and an innocent in her path.

For as long as she lived, she would never forget that man's face. They were collecting cargo that they had stolen from the war effort. The man, a civilian, had stumbled upon their activities and signaled for any kind of backup, but stayed to stop them from escaping. She was just fifteen when Rolfe pushed her towards him, her legs still shaking and the blade barely steady in her hands. She knew where to hit, knew what blow would kill him instantly; it only took one quick strike and he was dead, but he would haunt her for eternity. She had killed that man but Rolfe had killed Valerie that day. She had not heard the name since.

"Change course while you still can. Liabilities will not be tolerated." He left, the threat still singeing the air.

His intent filled her mind loud and clear. Rolfe was going to kill her unless she abandoned Anakin. She sank to the floor, the metal cold against her torn flesh.

Val felt numb, empty. This life was all she knew, all she had. The thought of abandoning it filled her with a fear she had hoped to never feel again. But Anakin represented everything she wanted; the courage and the freedom to be good - not just in her heart but in her actions. To save lives rather than take them.

Val knew Rolfe would never let her go - she was either his, or she was dead. She was a prize, a testament to a feat drenched in blood; a peacekeeper turned murderer. A child stained red. He had trapped her in titles and gold and glory, all under the guise that it had been real.

Perhaps, she had realised that long ago and had only begun to understand it now. Second in command had only ever been a charade, an adorned way for Rolfe to say look. Look at the strength I possess. Look at the Dathomirian and the Assassin and the Prodigy. Look at the titans I have bent to my will. He had never valued her as an equal or even an advisor, as he had claimed she was. Anger burned through her blood, igniting the flame his ice had snuffed out.

The truth was that she had always been an underling, a mindless weapon happy to do his bidding as long as it bought her freedom and even then, it never had. He had valued her as long as she followed his orders to the letter, and kept her conscience locked in the prison of her ribs. She never had a say - only silent acceptance that bought her leniency until Rolfe inevitably pulled the leash tight again.

She was tired of being moored in Rolfe's harbour with nowhere to go. Once, the very thought of leaving, being tossed over turbulent waves, had filled her with dread - fear that this world was not one she could survive on her own. But she was beginning to realise there were a thousand ways for a soul to die while the body lived on, and she was losing more of her own soul with every drop of blood. She would never know if her shipwreck heart could weather the storm if she didn't untangle herself from Rolfe's net first.

He had saved her half-lived life once, but she did not owe him what was left of her. Val was severing them, once and for all. And she would not regret it.

She would choose a life of uncertainty over imprisonment every time.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The walk to Rolfe's office was slow, deliberate. She needed to word this confrontation carefully, not as a threat but as a resignation. Rolfe could turn on her at a moment's notice and as experienced a swordfighter as she was, Val knew she stood little chance of making it to the hangar before Rolfe locked the Reaper down.

She sighed, unsure whether this decision was the right one. She knew she was leaving, one way or another - if he denied her then she would fight her way out or die trying. Either way, she would be free.

If she was successful, then she hoped Rowan would leave with her; but she couldn't drag Rowan into this mess unless she was certain of its outcome. As willing as Val was to gamble with her own life, she refused to put Rowan's on the line - especially when she wasn't sure if her friend would even want to leave. But if all did go well, then she and Rowan could be gone by morning and Anakin would be back with the Republic in two day's time. They would all be free.

And she would never see him again.

Her mind told her it was for the best and the voice sounded so much like her own, she almost believed it. Almost. She felt like a coward. Wanting to leave in the dead of night without saying goodbye, without having to face him and say I'm leaving you here - she knew Anakin deserved better but she wasn't capable of better, not while she was on this ship. Running was all she knew how to do.

She came to a stop in front of Rolfe's door, her heart near beating out of her chest. There was still time to turn back, to continue her life contently ignorant. But she knew the cost of her ignorance had grown too high, and she could no longer remain blind.

Val sighed and raised her hand to knock on the door.

"-Republic is expecting to receive the Jedi in two day's time. Your offer has to come sooner than that." She could hear Rolfe's muffled voice through the metal. She stopped, curious, and pressed her head against the door.

"And why, might I ask Captain, did you not inform me Anakin Skywalker was in your custody first? We have an arrangement." That voice. Hoarfrost burned across her skin. A wintry grave flashed across her mind. She shakily edged the door open a fraction, just enough to see into the office.

The lights were all turned out. Rolfe stood with his back to her, before a larger-than-life projection of an aging man with white hair, wearing a darker version of the Jedi robes. Val eyes widened and she covered her mouth in shock. Count Dooku. She had only ever seen him once but the name had followed her throughout her entire childhood, a constant shadow over an otherwise happy upbringing.

Count Dooku and his Order; the Sith.

"I'm aware but this is separate from that. Regardless, I didn't think it would interest you. What use do you have for a Jedi Knight?"

"And yet, you come to me now." There were only a handful of times Val had ever seen someone talk down to Rolfe, see through his cunning nature. It didn't surprise her that Count Dooku was capable of it. The two men were silent and she wasn't sure what they were waiting for.

Finally, the Count spoke. "My offer is 3,000,000 credits."

3,00,000 credits for Anakin. She could imagine Rolfe's elated grin while she felt nothing but dread - her hands began shaking and it took all her will to keep silent as her world unravelled around her. "His condition?"

"Unimportant." A single word had never induced so much terror in her. She wanted to run to Anakin, as though he might be dead or bleeding already.

Somehow, Rolfe seemed to grow even more excited at the prospect. "When can I expect your arrival?"

The Count's response was gravelled and terrifying. "Imminently."

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

so studying was a god damn LIE so I'm back and less okay academically than i was before but better than ever in terms of At World's End !!

how we feeling, people?? shit is going DOWN and this is kind of a cliffhanger so i do apologise but trust me it is a sexy downhill spiral from here !!

as usual, give me all your thoughts !! i require validation to live, friends

update in about a week and a half like usual, i love you all !!!!!!

SIDENOTE - i made a wattpad Instagram account where I'm posting my art and graphics (when i get to it) and like... snippets of upcoming chapters and stuff like that so feel free to follow (username is in my bio), I'll accept you all obviously :)

https://www.instagram.com/togrutas.wp/?hl=en