Chapter Text
Axel Greylark was losing the game of ignoring Gella Nattai trembling. Its subtly made it much more annoying than if she were outright shivering.
Space was cold, fine, but she hadn’t asked for him to turn the heat up.
Worse, he figured the bizarre buzzing her body was doing was making the stench of blood and grime on her emit into his space.
The sight of her grubby face annoyed him, too. Her eyes, the same color as cold black caf with a dash of sweet cream, were acting like she had drunk too much of it.
He could use some caf right about now.
Or a cold shower.
“Gella?”
She jolted. “Hmm?”
He frowned. “I need a shower.”
“Alright,” she answered far too quickly.
“…and a nap,” he finished, giving her another once over failing to hide his grimace. “You could use one too.”
“No, thank you,” she said in the same manner as her previous one.
“Gella,” Axel deadpanned. “You’re covered in filth.”
Gella didn’t take her eyes off him. “I’ll shower in Erasmus.”
That would take hours. His fury spiked up again. Who knew what kind of grime was seeping into the fine leather.
“Suit yourself,” he grumbled, getting up.
He showered after downing the bottom of a glass of whiskey he’d left open in a rush, trying to dismiss the dangerous, hot twist in his gut that started when she politely said ‘no thank you’ so meagerly.
Don’t, he warned himself.
He doused the thought of her soft lips, so gentle when they weren’t frowning at him, with the guilt of shoving her into the fighting pit.
But then the creeping memory of her saying ‘thank you, Axel. You could have left me,’ even with the frown fanned the embers.
Don’t.
He had a lot more to be guilty for, too. That should have been enough. He would betray her and because she deserved it. They all did.
Didn’t they?
Didn’t she?
His throat bobbed, and he let out a frustrated, confused noise.
He needed to wipe the stench off him, not fight juvenile desires.
He could barely look at her minutes ago. This was ridiculous.
Oh. Oh, but he could picture her.
Even with her scowly face and utter distaste for him, she was pretty. No, dammit, she was ethereal. She was magnificent in ways he didn’t know a person could be.
He tried to snuff out whatever cruel fantasy his mind procured with the blanket that it would never happen.
Tried, but this just ended up with him shuffling scenarios until he found one that clung to reality by a pinkie.
Maybe… maybe she would let him kneel and apologize.
He cursed, his lips flinging cold spray with the word.
He wished there was a water ration on the Eventide at this rate.
He frowned. He shut the water off. There was. Not as stingy as the bard on E’ronoh but the water wasn’t infinite.
Gella needed to shower.
At least he hadn’t used the hot water.
It didn’t matter. That stubborn little Jedi would probably rather endure another war with the Sith than listen to him.
For every right reason.
Axel shook the thought off as he dressed. He fed himself a tasty little lie for what he was about to do next.
He wandered into one of the spare quarters, bringing the empty whiskey glass with him.
The effort he went through to make things a little bit right.
He purposely landed on his ass—hard, and threw the glass on the floor.
He was worried it wouldn’t shatter, but thankfully it did with a loud thousand cracks.
She called his name, but Quin got to him first.
The little droid rammed into his knee, while Axel feigned cradling his head.
“Axel?” Gella stood in the threshold, scanning the room left and right twice. “What happened?”
She stepped inside, dodging the glass to kneel, reaching out, close to touching his fake injury. Her eyes were wide, looking more like the frightened Eroni doe Phan-tu had rescued than his brave Jedi’s.
“Slipped.” He stood up. “I’ll get something for the glass.”
She protested, but not quick enough. Gella was still kneeling when he had made it out of the threshold.
He spun, closed the door, and locked it shut.
“Axel!”
He regretted this plan immediately. She sounded lost. Not even close to angry and something worse than confused.
“Axel, let me out!”
“What, darling? I can’t hear you.”
“Axel Greylark, I will cut through this door.” Her voice was deadly calm.
He tried not to let it terrify him.
Axel hummed thoughtfully, pretending to consider the threat. “You could… or you could wash the grime off of you and nap.”
Gella sighed. “This is the second time I’ve been in a cell today, Axel. Please let—”
“Cell? I’ll have you know that room cost fifty-thousand credits to furnish. That comfort is Nubian northern thread.”
He could practically see Gella’s scowl. “Alright, so now I have a premium cell. Let me out.”
Axel frowned. “You know what cells don’t have? Locks from the inside. There is an inside code you can set on that panel. Set it, and you’ll lock me out.”
Axel realized he had accidentally given her a bargaining tool. “Set the lock. Hold Quin hostage.”
He heard Gella’s defeated breath. She had to know what he had just offered.
Quin thrilled indignantly.
“Just tell me what you set it to afterward. Otherwise next time I go in there and lock it, you’ll lock me out. Well, you might think I deserve that.”
“Afterward?”
Axel huffed, exasperated. “I will let you out before we land. Or cut through the door. I’ll send you the bill.”
He stood back a reasonable distance, waiting for the inevitable slice of purple to break through.
He heard the beeping on the inside control panel instead.
Axel smiled to himself before it turned into a frown at what it really meant.
“I’m going to nap,” Axel declared. “We’ll land in two hours.”
It took her a few seconds for her to acknowledge him.
He had started down the hall when she called, “Axel?”
He stopped, because now she sounded something closer to scared. “Yes?”
“Are you sure we don’t need someone piloting the ship? Or be on lookout?”
“Would you like to pilot the ship in hyperspace?”
Silence.
“No.”
“Well, I don’t either. And there’s nothing to look out for. There is a mirror in there, if you want to look out for your own disheveled reflection.”
He sensed her disbelief through the door. He sauntered to his own quarters. He forced himself to sleep to avoid his racing thoughts being bound to find winnings in his guilt.
His mistake.
He didn’t remember the nightmare. It was short, but he woke and staggered out of bed.
He dressed into something suitable for the capital, proud of his reflection before he wandered out to free the Jedi that he trapped.
Alex unlocked the door, banging on it once his side had been cleared.
The door slid open to reveal a still-grimy Jedi, rubbing her eyes. She yawned, “I set it to 090890.”
Those six numbers felt like a slap. They shouldn’t. She was in the right to be fearful of him.
At least she was hiding it better now. She was no longer shaking.
He loathed that he cared in the first place.
“Ow!” Axel exclaimed.
Quin chided him as Axel rubbed his head.
“What was that for?”
Gella tried to breathe out the guilt for feeling safer with the door locked.
She couldn’t get out, but he couldn’t get in. Which was odd to have a door with two separate locking mechanisms, but with his enjoyment of illegal smuggling, there were probably a bunch of small features meant to hide items and confuse would-be thieves.
Quin made a concerned sound, flashing blue while nudging into her arm.
Axel catching her so off guard twice in mere hours alarmed her.
He was an enigma, unreadable more often than not. His intentions with everything were skewed. She could check him over and over and never know what foot he would use to step first with.
He pushed her.
Then he saved her.
Then he insisted that she showered.
Then he trapped her in a bedroom.
It didn’t make sense, and her body told her that there was danger in the mystery of it.
But he had given her the ability to lock him out.
She couldn’t take off her robes. Not when she felt this vulnerable.
She reached out with the Force more diligently than she needed. Any sign of danger, she needed to pick up.
But he was right. She was exhausted.
He had fallen asleep, and she knew it would be a waste of her energy waiting for him to get up.
She just hoped he slept off whatever he drank.
The Jedi eyed the bed and sighed, running a hand over her face.
Quin nudged her forward again. It seemed like even the little droid thought getting her grime on his expensive sheets was a good idea.
It was his fault she had gotten blood on her anyway.
Gella frowned, even as she drew the inarguably comfortable comforter over her, she felt cold.
Like the only way to warm up was to run around.
Since she didn’t have the space, her mind ran. Everything should be locked into place now. Axel had the evidence. Xiri and Phan-tu would wed within the next week.
So why was her heart beating so fast, and why couldn’t she stop reaching out with the Force to check even minor things ongoing in the Eventide?
Quin didn’t seem to be tuned to her need for heat from intensity and instead struggled to bring her the fluffy grey blanket at the end of the bed.
Gella immediately knew not to ask Axel what this material was because she was addicted the second she touched it.
The little droid nestled in the crook of her arm, glowing a soft purple. The light dulled as her heart rate finally dropped.
There was nothing left to check. The vacuum of hyperspace was the only danger she could sense, and there was nothing to be done about that.
Quin hummed over the rush of space.
The Jedi didn’t recognize the tune, but it made an uneasy smile come to her face. “He likes this one?”
Quin didn’t answer—just kept doing the robotic version of singing.
This was another crack in his wall that he made to offer her something soft. He may have thrown her in here by deception, but he seemed to have good intentions behind them.
Maybe that’s why she couldn’t sense it.
Or maybe her senses had been distracted by the way his body wash had wafted into her nose. Or how shiny his wet hair was. Or how gentle he looked in plain, casual clothes rather than his peacocking garb or his Eirami disguise.
Or how desperately worried she was when she thought he had been hurt.
Gella hadn’t wanted to lock him out, so why did it feel like she had to?