Ace avoided her gaze entirely at first. Her admission that she didn't want him going through this alone lingered in the silence between them, unanswered. He wasn't sure what to do with it. For most of his life, support had always come with conditions, expectations, debts. It was easier not to touch the subject at all.
But as Colette continued, his eyes flicked toward her. Only his eyes. The lone wolf analogy landed harder than he'd expected. Truth be told, he'd always imagined he'd die alone. Young, too. Not because he wanted to, just because it seemed inevitable. The sort of ending reserved for people like him. Orphans from places like Bonadan didn't usually grow old. They survived until they didn't.
He'd made peace with that a long time ago.
Yet the idea that he wasn't dying alone, that he was simply between packs... That was something else entirely. Something worth thinking about.
A thoughtful hum escaped him. Then, despite himself, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Guess you're offering me a place in your pack?"
Colette
Ace waited patiently while Cora searched for the words. When they finally came, he wasn't surprised in the slightest. The
Prosperity incident had put Jedi and Sith on opposite sides of the same battlefield. A confrontation between Cora and Lysander had always seemed inevitable.
"Right."
The word left him quietly as he turned away, eyes settling somewhere ahead of him. And yet... He was somehow even less surprised by the fact that Lysander had refused to fight her. Family had always been the line he wouldn't cross.
For a moment, Ace found himself remembering a conversation they'd shared back on Thrantin. What would Lysander do when the day finally came that family and duty stood on opposite sides of the battlefield?
Now he had his answer. And somehow it only reinforced the belief that his friend wasn't entirely gone.
His attention shifted back toward Cora when she asked her next question. Did they talk about things like this? Ace's lips parted, then closed again.
A slow breath escaped through his nose.
"No. Not really."
The admission felt heavier than he expected.
"I think..." He paused.
"I think he wanted to."
His eyes drifted away again.
"But I just shut it down. I kept my distance from everyone there. Even Lysander, to an extent. Never let myself be vulnerable. Never talked about anything that wasn't practical... unless it was about Fatine."
A humorless smile tugged briefly at his mouth.
"It was my own way of avoiding dealing with myself. My guilt. My shame. The self-hatred."
Silence followed for a moment.
"But... I'm not scared to admit Lysander was my friend anymore. Much as I tried to deny it."
His gaze dropped briefly.
"I should've-- Maybe if I'd been more open with him, he'd--" Ace shook his head.
"I don't know."
His hand moved to the back of his neck, rubbing absently before he looked back toward Cora.
"I know this probably isn't what you want to hear. But remember when I said he'd put family above anything? Even the Covenant" Ace held her gaze.
"I think that's how you bring him back. If you still want to try."
Corazona von Ascania
Ace's expression softened. For a moment he found himself thinking back to Caltin's funeral. He'd almost forgotten about it, forgotten being there. Everything that followed had happened so quickly. Dathomir. Atrisia. The Covenant. Humbarine. Months that felt more like years. It was easy to lose things in the noise.
A faint smile tugged at his mouth. Weak, but genuine. Whether Michael was offering because he wanted to or because he felt he owed him something, Ace couldn't honestly say.
But the distinction didn't really matter. He came anyway. After everything. After hearing what Ace had become. That said more than words ever could.
"Thanks, Michael."
He meant it. Michael didn't need to come here or offer support. But he did. And it said a lot about the kind of person he was.
Michael Angellus
Ace listened quietly as Dominique laid out her argument. Humbarine again: the storm, Srina's curse, the giant lizard.
"Yeah." He nodded once.
"All that's true."
He never pretended that the Sith cared about the cost of innocent lives. Or champions of the people. He knew then, and he knew now that Sith were rotten and self-serving. With... a few exceptions.
When she finished, silence settled over the room. Ace didn't answer immediately, because the uncomfortable part was that she wasn't wrong.
Eventually, he let out a slow breath.
"You're right."
The admission came easier than he expected and his gaze drifted toward the floor for a moment.
"Oversight. Accountability. People watching each other. Pulling each other back before they disappear into their own justifications."
A humorless huff escaped him.
"I had that. I'm sure you know who."
Sibylla. Lorn. People who warned him exactly where this road ended. His thumb rubbed absently against the side of his prosthetic hand.
"I was arrogant and stubborn. Thought I knew better. And when they tried to stop me by force, I fought them."
Silence lingered for a moment.
"So it's not what you're describing that bothers me." His eyes lifted back to hers.
"It's that none of it sounds different from what I told myself. Every person that crosses the line, that moves the line, thinks they've got a good reason. Every person thinks they're the exception."
His jaw tightened.
"I looked at people like Carnifex, Windrun, Star-Arm, and thought I was different because my intentions were better." The statement hung there.
"Learned the hard way that intentions don't stop you from becoming the thing you swore you'd never be."
His gaze stayed on hers, and for the first time since the conversation began, uncertainty crept into his voice.
"How do you tell the difference between duty and arrogance? Between doing something necessary and just convincing yourself it is because you're the one doing it? You get why I find what you're saying hard to put faith in, yeah?"
Dominique Vexx
Ace studied Lorn for a moment, uncertain of what came next. Then the older Jedi drove his lightsaber into the wall panel. Sparks exploded outward and the energy barrier crackled violently before flickering out entirely. He hadn't expected that.
Before he could fully process what had happened, Lorn stepped forward and pulled him into a fierce embrace. Ace stiffened instinctively. Not because he wanted to pull away, he just didn't expect it.
Through the Force, faint and distant as it was, he felt the relief rolling off the older man. His own connection was already beginning to return now that the dampening field was gone. The sensation was strange after so long. Both familiar and uncomfortable.
When Lorn pulled back, Ace didn't answer immediately. He simply stood there as the Jedi turned and stepped into the hallway. His eyes lowered toward the floor and the Force flowed back into him little by little, filling a space he'd almost grown accustomed to being empty. Along with it came something else.
The dark side. Not strong or overwhelming. But it was there. Waiting. Calling. Like a quiet whisper. And it genuinely frightened him. For a moment, he hesitated.
The cell suddenly felt safer. Simpler. Stay here and rot. Never hurt anyone again.
Then the memories came. The conversations. People who had come all this way just to tell him he wasn't finished yet.
You owe me a better explanation one of these days.
Whatever it is you're planning, make sure you're still breathing when it's over.
"Penance isn't just imprisonment. It's action, it's actively working to fix a problem that you caused. Or helped cause. Sitting in prison doesn’t count.”
"It is important in how we handle that, how we move forward and what we take away from those lessons."
"There is no singular problem to be solved, but many smaller problems requiring many different solutions.
Beside the letter, one might note the drawing of a flower with bell-shaped blossoms. Beneath it, a small line of text read: "Lily of the valley; the return of happiness."
I’m doing what I was meant to do. I found my meaning. You’ll find yours.
"The entire point of wolves is that they hunt in packs to bring bigger prey or predators down to eat."
"You're still running my son...At least run in the right direction. Live. Live for those you've conquered. Live for the bodies you've piled. Avenge them by being who you were meant to be."
"Your story doesn't end here."
Ace closed his eyes and took a slow breath. Then he stepped across the threshold.
The sensation was strangely anticlimactic. There was no revelation or grand moment, just a single step. He glanced back once at the empty cell and the room that had become both prison and sanctuary.
Then he turned away and caught up to Lorn. Only then did he finally answer.
"Whatever you need." The words came quietly, and a few steps later, his brow furrowed.
"...But I'm guessing this isn't sanctioned."
The realization settled almost immediately. Of course it wasn't.
A dry sigh escaped him. Somehow, against all odds, he was about to become a fugitive again.
Lorn Reingard
