Work Text:
Atton was still working on getting his racing thoughts under control long after they’d made the jump to hyperspace. Their course was set and confirmed, though it wasn’t like they had a lot of choice there. Kreia was blessedly off somewhere that was not in his face. That alone was a vast improvement.
Dodging Sith and nearly getting blown up while doing so was more action than he’d seen in a very long time. His mind boggled from disbelief when he thought about it. He was on a ship headed to Telos with a Jedi and a scary old scow. He was tempted to pinch himself but was resigned that this was not a dream.
The Jedi. Ex-Jedi, she’d insisted. If things had gone according to plan, whether she was ex-Jedi or current Jedi wouldn’t have mattered. She’d be locked up in the cargo hold of his rented transport, and he would be collecting a nice paycheck from Coorta. What if that Twi’lek who owned the transport didn’t buy that it was destroyed in the blast? Atton wasn’t sure what the hell had happened to it, only that when he made it to the admin console, he’d discovered that his ride had vanished and he was at the mercy of a Jedi. The irony was not lost on him.
Another worrisome thought rose to the forefront: What if this angel figured out that transporting her was the reason he was on Peragus? He slid his hand over his face and wiped his eyes. Damn, he needed a drink or twelve. Not to mention some real sleep.
The ship was nicely equipped at least. He tapped in a few commands to pull up the schematics so he could get better acquainted with her and his jaw nearly dropped.
"Holy shit," he muttered. He was flying the Ebon Hawk. The Ebon Hawk. Every smuggler knew about the Hawk. How the hell had he missed that? The cockpit door swished open and he turned his head toward the woman whose name he was afraid to utter since it hadn’t been offered.
Coorta had referred to her as the “bounty” after he gave the rundown of the job. Atton had had a strong suspicion about who she really was soon after they’d talked in the holding room. The memory of her in all her underwear-clad, weapon wielding glory flashed through his mind and he immediately commenced with a mental game of Pazaak.
"Something up?" he ventured. She looked undecided over why she had come to the cockpit again, finally giving a heavy sigh and turning toward the galaxy map.
"I don’t think there’s a drop of alcohol on this entire ship," she said, moving over to stand behind the co-pilot seat and shifting her weight restlessly. Atton wondered how a person could appear both restless and exhausted at one time, but upon further reflection he realized he’d spent years acquainted with both states of being.
"Checked the cargo hold?"
She nodded.
"The garage?"
"Yes." A moment of silence passed.
"This is a smuggling ship. There’s gotta be some hidden compartments or something." He scanned his immediate surroundings, pausing near the bottom of the center console. It looked like there was a compartment there, but suddenly he wasn’t sure that he wanted to announce it.
"Is there something there?"
"Huh? No," he quickly replied. "Least I don’t see anything."
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure about that?”
Stupid Jedi perception. He suppressed a scowl and leaned over the arm of the pilot seat, running his hand along the seam. Suddenly she was there, shooing him out of the way. Sure enough, she found the release and the cubby popped open.
"How ‘bout that?" he said innocently, trying to get a peek.
"Yeah, how about that," she drawled.
"See? Told you so. You should trust me on these things. I know ships."
"Oh, I trust that you know ships. Not sure I trust you to not hoard stashes of booze, though."
"Ouch. You wound me, really." This lighthearted back and forth they had going was irresistible. Even during the clusterfuck back on Peragus, she’d surprised him with her sense of humor.
She began pulling things out of the compartment. “Dead datapad. ‘Spanner. Republic issued nutrition cube. Candy wrapper and… ha!”
"What?" He’d barely finished the word when he saw the bottle. Whiskey. Hardly touched. He grinned. "Well, looks like our night just got better, huh?"
She pulled the bottle close to her chest and gave him a smug smile as she put everything else back in the cubby and stood up.
"And just what makes you think you’ll be sharing this with me?"
"Aw, hey." He was the picture of ingratiating. "C’mon now. Share with your pilot. Please? Pretty please with sweetberry on top?” She made a show of considering his request. He would’ve thought it was adorable if there wasn’t whiskey at stake.
"The pilot who wasn’t going to share with me, you mean?"
"That’s not true! I would’ve shared." He couldn’t quite stifle his culpable smile. "What, are you gonna share it with Kreia? Because of the two of us, I really think I’m more fun. I might just be reading her wrong, though."
That earned him a chuckle from her, and damn if it didn’t feel like an accomplishment.
"No, I don’t think she’s "drinking buddy" material. Anyway, she’s meditating." Her playful expression slipped a little, and she stepped over and sank down into the co-pilot seat. "Can we just drink, and not talk?"
"Um, sure? I can do no talking. No talking’s just fine with me if it means I can have a drink of that. I mean the past thirty hours or so? Damn.”
She gave a slow nod and opened the bottle, sniffing it cautiously before she tilted it back. Atton counted the seconds and made it to seven. The woman obviously had done this before. Strange for a Jedi, but probably not for one like her. She lowered the bottle and stared at it for a long moment.
"Yeah, and it’s about to get a whole lot worse," she said quietly. He watched her, feeling like he should say something. Anything. But she didn’t want to talk, so he just whistled, stretching his arm over the console and wiggling his fingers.
Their eyes met and there was something in hers that he was sure he recognized, on such a surprisingly intimate level that it was hard not to look away. Even so, he mustered a gentle smile and wiggled his fingers again. She passed him the bottle and briefly returned his smile before she slouched down in the seat and directed her gaze toward the whirling, chaotic blue of hyperspace.
"Uh, there is… something, Before we start the no talking thing," he said delicately. "Are you gonna tell me your name anytime soon?" Another smile.
"Probably," was her only reply.
He opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. There was plenty of time for minor revelations like that between here and Telos. His boots fell with two heavy thuds as he kicked them off and settled back. After giving the whiskey a cursory sniff, he took a long, therapeutic drink and blew out a heavy breath, trying to will himself to relax. Sneaking glances at her now and then, questions danced on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them. For now.
The niggling impulse to crack a joke or something to break the awkward silence soon faded. Maybe it was her, or maybe it was the whiskey. The hum of the ship - there was a ticking in the hyperdrive, he noted - was the only sound as they sat there, minutes turning into hours as the bottle was slowly emptied. After everything that had happened, he had to admit that the quiet was kind of nice.
Eventually his eyelids started getting heavy, the buzz and the exhaustion catching up with him. He looked over at her. She was curled up in the seat, her breath a steady, light snore. It seemed impossible that a woman like her would be alone. Gotta be by choice, he decided, and that brought up a whole lot of other questions he was too tired to ponder. He supposed it didn’t matter, given that his plan was to catch the first ride back to Nar Shaddaa when they landed.
One thing he didn’t have to ponder was that she’d hate herself if she slept in that cramped position for long. He carefully got up, blinking away the dizziness, and went over to her, scooping her up in his arms.
"C’mon, let’s get you to bed, babe."
She stirred and looped her arms around his neck, her smile groggy and drunken. “What the hell’d you jus’ call me?”
"Shh, never mind. Go back to sleep." He bit his lip to keep from laughing.
"Yeah… ‘s good idea. Thanks, Atton."
After he’d gotten her tucked in, he returned to the cockpit, reclining the seat and propping his feet up. The urge to sleep was soon overpowering and after one more check that everything was golden with the ship, he surrendered and let his eyes close. His last conscious thought was to wonder if maybe he should reconsider bailing out when they hit Telos.