Chapter Text
It had been a painfully long, slow day. Slow as in its dragged on, not slow as in nothing happened. Plenty had happened, in fact. Four new crew members, one hostage(essentially), and a mission that went sideways. In no particular order. She’d decided to fly solo, since it was a risky reconnaissance mission in the capital city of the entire empire. Her crew wasn’t far, but she wouldn’t risk bringing the ship in so close. Not even on her life.
Eight whole star systems later and she somehow ended up right back home. Hailler Homeworld was one of the smallest planets in the galaxy, yet they still held the scepter and crown. The government building hadn’t changed since the last time she was there. Maybe the memories that it brought back were what had her so distracted. She should never have even gotten hit. Everything was going smoothly, she’d gotten in, she hadn’t been recognized through the blonde wig and the heavy coat and the glasses. She’d managed to get to the records room undetected. Leaving had been the problem. A fight broke out between a man and a guard, the guard shot the man. Claris just happened to be walking by, but the bolt went straight through his stomach and into her side. The guard tried to help her, up until he recognized her face close up. It was a blur after that.
She’d be in a cell by now if the men in charge could let go of their precious pride and admit that she was causing a problem. She assumed they didn’t want to issue an emergency alert, at the risk of losing her in a panicked crowd. It was the same now as it was the last time she was there, men with guns who were ordered to stay subtle and quiet as they hunted her. It was something out of a horror story, with the blood trail and the way they stalked her through the halls.
The burn from where the blaster bolt hit her side was horribly irritating. The wound itself was ugly looking, a jagged hole held together but stitches and surrounded by burn marks. Her pale skin was an angry blue all around it. She’d needed more pain meds then she allowed her medical team to give her. It was better saved for someone else.
That said, she couldn’t sleep through the pain. So she left her quarters in some loose pants and whatever cropped shirt she picked up off the floor. It was nothing like what she’d normally wear, and it showed more skin than she liked, but she didn’t enjoy the feeling of fabric against her bandages. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone would dare to look their captain anywhere but in the eyes, and no one else would be awake at this hour, either. She had them land the ship in a cave of an uninhabited moon, three systems from where they started. No one would be looking here, so everyone could sleep.
Most of the lights were off, save for any emergency signs or the occasional dim overhead light every couple of minutes. The wood creaked under her feet, bearing the weight of responsibility with her every step. The River Rose was an amalgamation of several different ships, including the first one she’d ever stolen. Years ago she left it in the hands of a contact for a few months to get some upgrades and maintenance done while she ship hopped, and when she got back to it she was presented with what it was now. She was so in shock that she couldn’t form the proper response, so before she got angry he told her that people needed a real symbol. The wood and the sails were more for a legendary feel, she was told, to fall in line with the ancient earth stories of pirates sailing and plundering across its small, at the time vast, ocean. Her ancestors once thought of the cosmos like new land masses to be found and conquered. They weren’t exactly wrong, but at the time they’d wanted to leave for the sake of exploration, not because the survival of man depended on it.
The top deck was almost silent, only disrupted by the hum of the engines and various other instruments. The sails sat as still as the artificial air that circulated throughout the ship. A few small lights came on as she walked by them, until she came to a stop beside her captain’s chair. She debated sitting down, the stars knowing that she needed to, but she decided to head for the wheel instead. The wheel at the top of the deck was entirely for show, much like the crow’s nest above the main sail. It had no real function since the navigation team handled all the steering. But it was good to be able to hold onto after days like this. It stood firm as a reminder of her station and everything she’s built with this resistance. Her resistance. Her ship, her crew, her entire life.
She was alone for a while, her grip loose as she stood at the wheel and looked out into the stars. It was even more gorgeous when she was alone, when she had nothing to do but think. There was a lot to think about. The upcoming supply run, the data she procured today, her injury, her accidental hostages. So many things to think through under silent stars.
Of course, it didn’t stay that way for long. Slowly but surely, heavy footsteps began to approach. She couldn’t recognize them, but she didn’t turn around to see who it was. She already had some idea, based on the way things went down today.
He came to stand quietly beside her, keeping distance in mind. He had his arms folded over his chest, the gleam of his mechanical arm catching the dim light. She didn’t turn to him at all, only letting herself use her peripheral. The air quickly became charged with the remaining words from their argument earlier, but Claris was far too stubborn to speak first. Maybe if she didn’t acknowledge him he’d go away.
“You know, they’re saying that you kidnapped us,” he said after a full minute, his voice moving through the quiet air with an unearned ease.
“And here I thought you might have come to apologize,” she sighed. “You were out of line today.” She didn’t want to have this conversation. Either of the conversations that they would surely have. She was still pissed at him for the scene he caused . Though, even in their academy days she was always pissed at him for one reason or another, it wasn’t anything new.
“I’ve never been one to lie to you.” She was sure that if she was willing to turn then she’d catch him smirking. “I’m not sorry.”
Her grip tightened slightly on the wheel. “You came onto my ship and you have the gall to question my decisions?”
“I’m not here willingly,” he reminded her, his eyes shifting from the stars to her. She could feel the weight of his gaze as if it were a hand. “And as I said earlier, it’s not your decisions that I’m questioning, Claire.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped at him, turning to face him fully. He still had on his boots and uniform pants, but ditched the jacket to be in just an undershirt. At the sight of the grey skin of his good shoulder, Claris folded her arms over her stomach. It was a weak attempt to cover her own exposed skin and bandages. The movement drew Jake’s eyes, but he didn’t linger on the area.
“Your second in command is trying to get you killed,” he continued, not acknowledging the way her eyes were looking him over, instead trying to catch her gaze with his.
“We already talked about this,” she grumbled. It was more like they yelled about it, and almost in front of the crew. Luckily, he didn’t put up a fight when she asked him for a word in private. She’d foolishly hoped that maybe the years would have changed things between them, but he was still the same stubborn, arrogant man that she despised from the academy.
“For months now,” he huffed, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “I’ve had to put in three times the effort to avoid— I mean—” he cut himself off, his total red eyes widening for a few long seconds. He ran his flesh hand over his face and turned away completely, his voice quiet and almost embarrassed sounding, but still cutting smoothly through the stunned silence and the low hum of the engines.
“Shit.”
Claris had always had her suspicions about her luck in avoiding fire fights and fleets of Hailler ships over the years, at least whenever Commander Jake Lasting was involved. She kept her voice stoic at the revelation, but was glad he turned so that he couldn’t see her start to smile. “To avoid what?”
“Today she was leading you directly into danger. Running into me was pretty much guaranteed.”
“To avoid what, Lasting?” she pressed, taking a step closer to him.
“You know what. I’m not going to say it,” he said softly, to the surprise of them both. Neither of them spoke for a few slow moments, until he turned back to her, and back to his main point. “She’s trying to turn you into a martyr.”
“Jake,” she said flatly, her arms dropping to her sides. “You don’t think I realized that? Really?”
She watched realization dawn on him, his eyes widening slightly before narrowing at her. “Today was a set up.” She only nodded in response. By the way his jaw clenched he was trying hard to hold back his exact thoughts on the matter. “You nearly bled to death in the heart of enemy territory for the sake of a set up.”
“I wouldn’t have bled to death.”
He laughed. It was a bitter sound that made her own anger flare up. “Then you would have been arrested.”
“No.”
“There was a blood trail leading right to you. I almost took you in myself.”
“You wouldn’t have.”
“I pointed a gun at you.”
“Nothing new.”
“Okay, then, fine.” He pulled his gun from the holster at his side, this time using his mechanical hand rather than his real one. She’d nearly forgotten that she let him keep it, though she’d always known that this would be the outcome. She stared up at him blankly as he raised it to be level with her head, his own expression was almost unreadable, but he couldn’t hide his apprehension in the furrow of his brow. “So you’re fine with this?”
“You’re not going to shoot me on the deck of my own ship.”
“You can’t be sure about that.” He shook his head, a bitter smile ghosting his blue lips. “Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll shoot you, lock us both up here so no one can stop me, and then fly this ship right back to the homeworld to have every single person here turned in.”
“You’ll be a hero.” She stepped forward to place her forehead directly against the barrel of the gun.
“This is insane,” he scoffed, though he didn’t move away. His eyes scanned her over, lingering on the bandages at her waist before darting back up to her face.
“We both know I’d be dead if you wanted me dead,” she murmured. Her voice was softer than she meant it to be. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought her chest might explode. He must have been able to tell, even through her mask of indifference.
“If it was anyone else—”
If it was anyone else who found her today, she’d surely be dead by now. But even without his cadets surrounding them, even without his younger brother muttering something about Kell Hall in his ear, Claris was sure that he would have still helped her. Even after all their years of clashing over words or taking sparring matches too far or glaring daggers across every room they found each other in, she was sure he still would have helped her. Anything else was against his nature.
“It wasn’t anyone else,” she said, cutting him off. “It was you.”
“Damn it, Claris—”
“Captain,” she corrected. It was nothing more than an attempt to get back under his skin. Neither of them could afford to admit to any soft spots right now.
“I’m not your crew. I don’t even like you.” His finger twitched in the air over the trigger. He stood straighter, far taller than she was, and his red eyes stayed locked on her yellow ones. Finally after another long moment of nothing, he lowered the gun and put it back in the holster. “How long has my brother been involved in this?”
“I think that’s a question better suited for him.” She took a step back, giving them both some much needed space.
“I’m asking you,” he replied sharply, “Captain.”
She felt her left eye twitch. “I’ve never dealt with him directly.”
“Did you know it was him?” His voice was low, his eyes a burning glare.
“No,” she said firmly.
He took a step closer.
“He could have gotten killed.”
Another step.
“Tell me about your arm,” she prompted.
“I— what?”
“What happened to your arm?” she asked calmly, watching his face shift from that of anger to confusion. He stopped his approach, though he was only two steps away at this point. Neither of them tried to replace the distance again.
“Seriously?”
“I’ve heard a few rumors. I’m curious.”
“It was an explosion,” he said, the words clipped, like it cost him something to even acknowledge it. “They said you orchestrated it.”
“And do you believe that?” she asked softly, her eyes trailing the seam in his skin where flesh abruptly became metal.
“No.” His answer came too fast. Too certain.
“Why?”
“Let’s not—” he cut himself off, sucking in a breath. “We don’t have to talk about it right now.”
“You’re probably right.” Except that we could talk plenty when I let you hold a gun to my head.
Silence stretched between them. It wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, though that mere idea of it felt unearned. They had more than enough to talk about. He was still studying her, his eyes once again landing on her bandages without any disguise this time. The last time they talked like this, she’d been drunk and he was the only one there. He was the only one at that point who respected her enough to treat her the same way he always had.
“You should get some rest,” he said after a while, his arms crossing over his chest as he continued to stare at her.
“So should you.” She nodded, taking a step back to replace some of the distance they lost. “We have a long day tomorrow.”
“Planning on torturing your captives, Claire?”
“Only the ones that call me dreadful nicknames.”
“Let me walk you back to your quarters.” She didn’t know why he was offering, and judging from how uncertain he looked, he didn’t either.
“Don’t get any ideas,” she warned, though only half serious. “I’ll escort you to yours.”
“Of course,” he smiled. She hadn’t seen it in years, and she couldn’t remember if she ever saw it directed at her. She didn’t let herself smile back, maintaining a friendly blank expression instead. He motioned for her to lead the way, and he quickly fell into step next to her. Always just one pace behind. The walk back was quiet. A quiet that was earned this time, at the very least. He was mindful of the distance, careful not to accidentally brush past her at all, but still staying closer than was necessary. She supposed that him choosing to stay close was easier than trying to keep him that way herself. She didn’t really want him out of her sight as long as he was still trying to argue that he was here against his will.
The door to his quarters slid open with a silent hiss as they approached. Jake opened his mouth to say one more thing, maybe a goodnight or a goodbye or one last attempt at an argument, but she shook her head, gesturing for him to go in. His brother was sleeping in the top bunk, she could see his hand hanging over the side of it.
“Wouldn’t want to wake Flynn with any sarcastic comments,” she whispered, letting a smile play at her lips as she stepped away from the doorway.
“I can’t say I agree,” Jake responded, casting a weak glare at his brother’s sleeping frame. “Goodnight, Row.”
“Goodnight, Commander Lasting.”
The door slid shut again, separating the two finally. Claris lingered after punching in her code to lock them in there. It would unlock at 800 hours, though she suspected that Flynn would still manage to slip out before Jake woke up.
On her walk back to her own quarters, she decided that she wouldn’t be there waiting for him. He’d find his own way to the top deck. She wanted to keep a close eye on him, not keep him on a leash so tight he’d start choking. She was content to pretend that it wasn’t for her own sake. He had a way of getting under her skin, and she didn’t want to spend another day in a bad mood in front of her crew. It didn’t leave a good impression.
Impressions were important, especially from where she stood. Impression was the foundation of reputation, and she still valued hers, just now as the rebel leader with a vendetta against Kell Hall rather than the student who bruised his ego and was ruined for it. She supposed that she should thank him for setting her down this path. That interaction was always fun to imagine. She would thank him for being a creepy, egotistical maniac who believed she owed him herself in exchange for his guidance. Then she’d put her gun to his head and pull the trigger without a second thought. Though, thanking him would give him the impression that she was still his to take credit for.
She let that bitter thought sit as she finally reached her quarters. She made sure the door auto-locked behind her, finally lost the sad excuse of a shirt, and crawled back into bed. Upon closing her eyes, she found her thoughts drifted back to the man she let hold a gun to her head. She was entirely certain that Jake had no idea what his next move was going to be. To be fair, she didn’t know hers, either.
She wanted to scare him away when they first found her, but she’d been too weak from the blood loss. Him and his cadets were never supposed to be here. She hadn’t counted on Mia insisting on treating her wounds. She hadn’t counted on Flynn reminding his older brother that Kell Hall was on the premises. She certainly wasn’t counting on them to get her back to her ship and to choose to go with her when shots were fired their way. Jake was technically the only actual hostage here. And he was acting as a very willing hostage, despite his own words. And some actions.
She could still feel the weight of the barrel against her head when she thought about it. She was so certain that he wouldn’t shoot her that she foolishly pressed against it. Her heart had beat so rapidly, so loud in her own ears, that she was surprised he hadn’t commented on it. She could feel it speeding up at just her thoughts alone, though not out of fear or anger or any survival instincts. Which was horrifying. Because it was him. Not the gun, or the threat of it, but the man behind it. And the fact that he couldn’t make himself pull the trigger, even with nothing to stop him.
He couldn’t do it. She’d proven her point. But he still had his own to prove, and she knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't back down until he did. She wouldn’t let him complicate things, as he always had the knack for doing. She might try to convince him to stay, though. It would be good to have him close, given his experience and abilities and knowledge of the empire’s tactics. And somehow she didn't hate the idea of someone on this ship who knew the way she was before everything. He might be the most valuable asset she’d have. If he wanted to stay. She’d never force him.
She’d have to convince him.