Chapter Text
Circumstances make strange bedfellows, they say. It's been definitely true for the Hero of Tython.
The young Knight of the Jedi Order travels with quite an interesting group of allies. They are so different when it comes to their personal wants and needs, but there's one goal that has bound them together. They are defenders of the galaxy, their strength united to save lives on countless worlds from the evils served by the Empire. It doesn't really matter why each of them is doing this - is it for fame and money, or some greater good; is it because of code, regulations or inner conviction. Their actions speak for themselves, and it's all that matters.
On their way towards another place in need of sheltering from death and suffering, the crew is preparing for what's to come. Rusk has been the noisiest on the ship, pulling apart his cannon into pieces for cleaning. The rest of team stays in silence. Droids are in maintenance mode; Kira spends her time meditating; Doc is busy digging through HoloNet; and Scourge -
Sith lord has taken over the common area and turned it into training grounds. With unreadable expression he relentlessly attacks the imaginary enemy in front of him, lightsaber in hand flashing all around. Jedi woman is only partially familiar with the stance. She obviously has witnessed it in action, but analyzing combat technique of an ally while in fight is never a priority. She might be able to take a closer look now though, even if for just a short moment.
The man knows he's being watched for sure; both a person strong in the Force and a seasoned warrior, he can't be unaware of her presence. She should leave and proceed with own plan to meditate, as there's still time left before the ship jumps out of hyperspace. Yet, somehow she freezes, transfixed by the sight.
There is no routine in the man's movements, just sheer confidence in the way he wields the blade. And, there is no fury in any of the deadly swings or jabs, grim determination only. For her, a Jedi true to the code, there are no emotions. But for the Sith, not to feel anger or passion anymore - probably unimaginable for each and every single Sith out there; except for the Emperor himself and this one man here. Not to feel absolutely anything at all - just unimaginable, period. It has to equal a complete emptiness, the woman figures. In a choking void, the only thing propelling Scourge onwards is the vision of somebody strong enough to defeat the Emperor. A vision of someone wearing her face, to be precise. They're in this eventually together, after he had spent three hundreds of years with the image of her face as the sole reason to live, to act, to commit atrocities as the Emperor's Wrath.
What should she feel now, knowing all of that?
If he was able to - what would he feel?
This should concern you not, Jedi. All that matters is the common foe.
For some reason, his words - sting. She's already heavily out of balance, sparing so much of a thought to the person in front of her; being caught on that is even worse; what he says out loud though, makes the final straw. The woman simply nods in answer and turns around, heading towards the personal cabin.
With mind focused on the need to meditate, she's not able to see how curiously the man's expression changes, how hard lines of his face soften slightly as he watches her retreat.
There is no emotion, for neither of them. So, even if the Jedi could catch his look - it wouldn't matter anyway.