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Theron had done plenty of snooping in his day. Being a former republic SIS agent meant that he was good at it and always managed to glean information that most people found inconsequential; He knew better.
It hadn’t been intentional, to try and look for the Commander’s ship. He’d heard her lamenting about missing the Interceptor all of one time since they had mostly finished building the base on Odessen, but it had been enough to compel him to put some feelers out.
He hadn’t expected anything to actually turn up.
Shining a light into dark and dusty corners made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and Theron shivered. The ship almost looked like a time capsule, filled with things frozen in place where they had been left when everything went to shit— or at the very least, knocked to the floor. Caf stains littered the durasteel paneling beneath his feet, with more on the bolted down tables and booths tucked in the corner next to the bridge access hall.
The crew’s quarters were half made and half messy. Inside were flimsyplast notes on a bulletin written in neat and uniform handwriting, dictating weekly chores or tasks, some of which had been crossed out.
The meeting room was all but untouched, dusty and with no emergency lights on, so he left it alone. The bridge was a different story. One single slowly brightening and fading light indicated the emergency power activation switch, and he leaned over the navigation chair to flip it on.
In the seat was another spilled cup, but the stain was less prominent. Tea then, over caf. And there was a holopad tucked into the nook just underneath the console.
Theron hit the switch, and the emergency power stuttered to life. Thank the maker for Imperial ships and their anti-matter generators. They’d run for years without maintenance, and it was clear this one had already. But it still flickered the emergency lights on, and illuminated a particularly dark stain on the captains chair, with a piece of metal off to the side. A vibroknife, by the looks of it— a matching stain on the blade.
He barely resisted the urge to shiver due to the chill that crawled up his spine.
Some of the indicator lights came on, which gave him a little more insight into how easily he could get the thing flight ready. It wouldn’t be easy, per se, but it was a task he could take on by himself.
“The things I do for love—” he scoffed.
Instead of heading straight for the engine room, he continued snooping, looking to find if any holopads had any life left in them— and a few of the Imperial issued ones did. None of them were a personal item, just filled with notes and mission briefings dated back well over five years ago.
He remembered some of these— he even found one regarding the Revanite incident. He smiled despite himself, remembering the way the former Wrath had met his teasing with some of her own, and how it had led to them falling into bed together. He only felt marginally bad for that stuffy officer that toted along behind her everywhere. Like a lost and kicked puppy.
He never really figured out what the nature of that officer’s place in her life had been, but there had been something. It was clear in the way they looked at each other, even when trying to be professional.
The captain’s quarters were only half open; Theron had to squeeze through the ajar door sideways to fit, but he managed it.
What he found was far from the torture chamber he expected for such a ruthless and well known Sith (or former Sith, as she liked to insist these days).
Theron did his fair share of snooping in there too, eyeing the work that had clearly once been on the desk, but was now scattered across the floor around it. There was a plush rug on either side of the bed. A deep fuchsia color, he found when he turned his light to it. As for the bed clothes, they were far from Imperial issue. They were lavish, and, though a little dusty, clearly very high quality— shell spider silk, if he had to guess.
He opened the closet, and his stomach sank. Amid the robes and regalia fitting of a Sith, there were primly pressed and hung officers uniforms… The same uniforms he’d seen that one man wearing, the one that followed the Commander around like a—
Theron swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. He didn’t feel... betrayed, really. Just surprised. He hadn’t expected that a Sith would have a significant other like this, not with some sort of commitment, but it explained the dog tags she wore around her neck and the simple gold band stamped with the Imperial symbol that also dangled from the chain. She had been married to the weasely bastard.
Theron didn’t know whether to feel guilty or wonder if they had had some sort of arrangement.
The officer had been waiting outside Theron’s ship when he and the Commander had descended the ramp after their little romp. He’d looked entirely nonplussed, merely going over their next set of orders as though this was just another Primeday for him. And maybe it was.
Did Theron have to worry about her being unfaithful? He’d never really thought about it. Truly, he’d never even anticipated being in a pseudo relationship with a— former— Sith. It wasn’t a question he’d thought to bring up.
He took a deep breath and pressed on, poking through the drawers of the nightstand. He didn’t find anything of consequence there, save for a couple of personal holoreaders and a few knickknacks gathered over the course of years of travel.
Kark it. He ceased his snooping adventure and headed for the engine room. It was time to get this thing running and cleaned up.
Cleaning was a far easier task than getting the thing flight ready, and Theron lamented taking on this project by himself. But, with all of the dust swept up and the coffee stains removed (the blood stain on the captains chair would have to wait until he could find someone capable of reupholstery), the ship was looking far better than it did when he’d first arrived.
He got the engines running a few days later, and managed to limp the thing to a nearby spaceport where he could get the hyperdrive fixed. Then it was a waiting game.
He spent the few days it took to get the hyperdrive running, finishing up the cleaning. He remade the beds in the crews quarters, restocked the kitchen, and reactivated the 2V droid that had been offline and posted by the bridge access hall. Too-Vee hadn’t been thrilled to find someone that wasn’t his master on the ship, but when Theron insisted he was a friend and was just trying to get the ship back to her, he settled a little… though still wary.
And then it was time to tote the thing back to Odessen. His stomach was in knots over what the Commander would think about having her old ship back.
She greets him with that same warm smile, that same sparkle of affection in her eyes, and he melts a little at having that expression focused solely on him.
“I’ve got something for you, a gift.” He says, watching as confusion warps her expression just long enough for him to gesture and for the sound of the ship’s engines to come into hearing range.
She perks up immediately, recognizing the sound, and she whips her head over to the horizon where, just around the distant mountain, the Fury class Interceptor makes its debut into proper sunlight and settles on the Commander’s personal landing pad.
“Theron, you—” Her voice trembles with unchecked emotion, and then suddenly he has an armful of former Sith, her face tucked into his neck and a distinct dampness against his skin that makes his heart lurch painfully. “Hold on now— I didn’t think this would make you cry—” He’s never dealt with emotions well, especially not other people’s, but he’s trying.
He feels her laugh against his throat, and when she pulls back, cupping his face in her delicate tattooed hands, his heart swoops into his stomach. She’s smiling at him, and there is so much affection and— love?— in her expression that he practically melts on the spot.
“This is— Theron, this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” Her soft accented voice is thick with emotion, and he reaches up, gently wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. “Second nicest.” He amends for her, amused. “We did sneak into a highly guarded spire on Zakuul and rescue you from carbonite, yknow.” That makes her laugh, and the next thing he knows, he’s being kissed.
It was worth it, he decides. All the work and sweat and irritation at an Imperial made ship were made worth it for this moment right here. He circles an arm around her waist and pulls her in close, other hand cupping her cheek softly.
“I’m— I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.” He blurts when she finally pulls away, and oh, with the way her expression softens you would think he’s just given her the key to the galaxy.
“I love you too, Theron.”
He could cry. When was the last time he let himself have this? Six and a half nevers ago?
He kisses her again, mostly to keep himself from crying, and lingers there for a long moment, just holding her and kissing her, and letting himself love and be loved in return. Anything could happen, and he knew they would face it together.
At least— that was how he felt.
Until Iokath.
The sight of that slim, pale officer, with a Major’s rank now pinned to his collar had jealousy and fear boiling over and curdling in Theron’s stomach, and it certainly wasn’t eased by the excitement the Commander held at seeing him again.
The way she said his name, Quinn— as though he were a god and she a reverent worshipper.
Theron swallows around the lump in his throat; he feels Lana’s gaze on him but he doesn’t meet her eyes. He can’t. He can’t break in front of them.
“Perhaps we should save the displays of affection for a more private setting.”
Theron can’t stop the way he chimes in, jealousy and fear driving his every move. “Yeah, we’ve got to figure out why the Republic and the Empire are here— and what they want with that super weapon.”
He feels the Commander’s gaze on him now, but he can’t look at her, can’t stand to see the pity he knows now sits there. Who was he kidding? Falling in love with a former Sith? An Imperial? They were all weaselly liars. He’d been a fool to let himself think otherwise.
Once the Empire had no longer been in danger of an immediate loss against the republic, they’d returned to the Fleet Spire. Theron had been the last to join, and had stepped into the war room at just the wrong moment.
“I will always love you, Quinn.”
They embrace and kiss. Theron catches sight of a glimmer of gold on the Commander’s finger, and feels his heart shatter into a thousand pieces. That’s it, then. It’s over. The old flame has returned and whatever he’s been to her was cast aside.
“I’m going back to Odessen.” He grumbles, shoving his way past Lana and heading for his ship. He needs time to think. He needs to cry without the threat of prying eyes. And he cannot stand to meet the Commander’s gaze when he knows he will only find pity there. He doesn’t want to be pitied.
He wants her.
He hangs his head, rubbing at his temples once he’s activated his hyperdrives, lets the tears come and mourns the loss of the only woman he’s ever loved, even knowing she’s alive and well.
Alive and well— and in the arms of another man.
Theron never considered himself a jealous person, he wasn’t covetous by nature. But this— he wanted her. He wanted her so badly he couldn’t see straight. He wanted that to be his ring on her finger.
Loitering in her room back on the Odessen base probably wasn’t his smartest idea, especially when he knew they’d be arriving back from Iokath any day now. He kept picking at his nails, cleaning under them and staring at the holopic on her desk of him, Lana and the Commander standing together in the newly built throne room. He had bent over and kissed her cheek right as the flash went off.
Emotion wells up again in his throat just as he hears the tell-tale sound of the click of her boots signaling her approach.
“I’m uh— glad you’re here.” He says quietly as she steps up to the platform her bed and dresser are on. There is pained confusion written all over her face.
“Y’know with uh— your old flame back, well… We’re both professionals. You made your choice— no need for things to get messy.”
“Theron, what—?”
“Hey— listen, I get it. I’m the one that put that Interceptor of yours back together. I’ve seen the ring, the room you two shared. I get it— let’s not make this any harder than it has to be.” He starts to push past her, to walk away, and he could almost cry when her fingers wrap around his wrist, stopping him. He doesn’t want to walk away.
“Theron that’s not— darling I thought you knew—” She sounds confused, pained, aching, like her heart is the one that’s breaking and not his.
“Knew what—?” His curiosity gets the better of him and he turns to look at her.
“Quinn and I— we have a very particular sort of relationship. He and I were already married back when we were going after Revan—” She says softly, and tugs Theron closer, firmly putting them well within each others personal space, chests almost touching.
“He knows about you. Has known, from the beginning. If— if that sort of thing makes you uncomfortable, I won’t ask you to stay, but—”
It’s too much— too good to be true. He hears the words, watches her mouth form them and feels the way it makes his heart expand in his chest. He kisses her. He can’t help it.
His arm circles her waist and he roughly tugs her into him, kissing her soundly and with intent. He revels in the soft sound she makes against him, the way he can feel her entire body relax as the tension leeches out of it.
The sound of a clearing throat pulls them apart, and there he is, Major Malavai Quinn, standing near the door.
“I take it you told him then, my lord?” His expression is unreadable to Theron, but there is something there that apparently the Commander can see and she looks between the two of them, apparently happier than ever.
“Yes— he almost didn’t let me. Typical— jumping to conclusions.” She teases, and Theron feels his face flush ruddy and dark, and he casts his gaze down, unable to meet either of their eyes. “Yeah, well—”
She shushes him, and he’s grateful he doesn’t have to stumble over his words and make a fool of himself yet again.
“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it before all of this. But I promise— as far as relationships go, you two are the only ones I currently have any interest in continuing.”
Major Quinn comes up behind her, effectively sandwiching her between himself and the former SIS agent. He presses a gentle kiss to the back of her head, just between where her lekku begin to extend, and Theron can feel her shiver against him. It’s only now that Theron notices the mischief that settles in Quinn’s eyes and can see whatever emotion the Commander had so easily seen all along.
“I suppose an Imperial Major and a Republic SIS agent can work together—” Quinn says, thoughtfully, and Theron laughs, shaking his head.
“Former SIS agent. The Reublic hasn’t backed me since the Revan incident.”
The Commander laughs, and both men melt just a little at the sound, completely smitten with the woman between them.
“Alright— now that we’ve gotten that sorted… Drinks? I think we could all use one after this last week.” There’s a nod from both of them, and then Theron is being kissed again. His heart stutters against his chest and he is struck with just how much he loves this extremely powerful woman. How much she has impacted his life and made him a better person.
He sees the same sentiment echoed on Major Quinn’s face when she turns to kiss him too.
She leads them out of her quarters and the two men fall into step behind her.
“So— since we’re both with her, does that mean I get to call you Malavai, now?”
“Absolutely not.”
“What about husband-in-law.”
“I will never understand what she sees in you.”
“My endless charm and rugged good looks.”
“Well, you’re half right.”
The smirk on Malavai’s face at that last taunt has Theron’s brow furrowing. “Half right? Wait— what do you mean half? Which half?!”
The sound of laughter echoes down the halls, low and lilted with an Imperial accent. It’s the first time Theron has ever heard him laugh, and he finds he might want to hear it more often.
He supposes now he’ll get his chance.