Private The Pendulum Stops

[Fatine von Ascania]

“Moonbound,” the guard said. Beside him was a smaller, feminine form shrouded in shadow behind the dimness of a slowly flickering light. An unmistakable silhouette. A harbinger of divine retribution, if such a thing existed.

In the wake of his self-surrender, Acier had many visitors. Friends, acquaintances, adversaries, and new faces.

Fatine had not been among them. Fatine had been partying her way through the core, using alcohol, spice, and men to numb the pain and betrayal. It worked, for as long as any particular vice lasted.

Then, in the quiet moments in between, everything would come crashing back. Sometimes she felt his absence after the drag of a cigarra. Or in the haze of neon light splashing against asphalt. One, at the bottom of an empty glass.

How she gained access to the prison was a mystery - or maybe it wasn’t, given her sister’s nebulous position within the Republic.

One thing was certain: Fatine wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

The guard keyed in a sequence, pressed him palm to a wall-mounted scanner, and the thin band of blue ray shielding disappeared from the mouth of Ace’s cell. Then, perhaps surprisingly, he left the room.

Fatine stepped into the light. Past it. She wore a tight dress of royal purple, skimpy at both hems. Large gold hoops nestled into voluminous chestnut curls. Her lips, painted a familiar vampy shade of deep burgundy, pursed just slightly as the smoke of her kohl-lined eyes honed in on the shape of the man who'd loved her, then abandoned her.

Then, she swung. The gold bangles at her wrist jangled as the palm of her hand made contact with his face.

“Fuck you,” she spat. “Fucking pathetic.”

Acier Moonbound

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Republic Space - [REDACTED]

Equipment:
Inmate Jumpsuit | Cybernetic Arm

His head turned toward the entrance. The guard stood waiting outside the shimmering blue barrier, another figure lingering just beyond the flickering light. The silhouette alone was enough.

...Shit.

His stomach dropped. Ace would've recognized that outline anywhere. A slow breath escaped through his nose as he closed his eyes for the briefest moment, equal parts resignation and frustration.

What was she doing here? Better question... how was she here? She wasn't a politician, or a Jedi, or military. She was just--

...

Forget it. It was Fatine. Somehow, she'd found a way.

Ace pushed himself upright from the narrow bunk just as the guard began keying commands into the wall console. The familiar hum of the ray shield faded from the doorway. Yeah, this definitely wasn't sanctioned.

His gaze settled on her as she stepped into the cell. She looked... beautiful. She always did. The royal purple caught the dim prison lighting with every step, gold jewelry glinting softly against warm skin as familiar curls framed the face he'd spent far too many nights trying, and failing, not to picture.

His chest tightened. Distance had hurt, but distance had at least been simple. This... this was worse. He'd missed her laugh, the way she'd wrinkle her nose whenever she thought he was being stupid. He'd missed her.

For one reckless heartbeat, part of him wanted to cross the room, wrap his arms around her, apologize for everything, and pretend the last few months had never happened.

The thought barely had time to exist. Her palm collided with his cheek, snapping his head to the side. He didn't stumble or raise a hand to the reddening mark, he didn't even look surprised.

Slowly, he looked back at her. "...Guess I deserved that." His voice was flat.

The warmth that had threatened to surface vanished as quickly as it'd come and the walls slid back into place. They needed to stay there, it'd be easier this way. If she hated him... if she walked out convinced he wasn't worth saving... maybe she'd finally be able to move on.

"Is that all?"

Fatine von Ascania ​

 

[Fatine von Ascania]

The muscle in Fatine’s jaw jumped when she ground her teeth. She’d wanted a reaction from Ace - anything but the sober acceptance she’d come to expect.

“You deserve more than that,” she snapped.

The sharply stylized rims of her sunglasses - worn indoors, in such dim lighting - lowered a little. Just enough to reveal the fury blazing in dark eyes. Fatine lifted one of her calves, bent to the side, and slipped off her sandal. It caught the dim lighting, glinting dangerously as she lifted it.

“Are you happy? You had everything, you idiot. You had me!” With a snarl, she launched the phrik flop at Acier with hellacious ferocity. Whether or not it found its mark, the second piece of weaponized footwear would materialize in hand. She'd took care to pilfer Lysander von Ascania 's closet the last time she'd visited, critiquing every black turtleneck as she did so.

With her other hand on her hip, Fatine gesticulated wildly with la chancla. Her palm still stung from striking Ace.

“And you gave it all up. For what? Because you decided to grow a conscience too late?”

Her upper lip curled into a sneer. She liked to think that she was over Ace, but it had taken her hours to get ready. She’d worn her tightest dress and her nicest jewelry for a reason. Winged eyeliner so sharp it could kill a man.

She wanted him to see that she was doing well without him. Fantastic, even. The fact that she’d wormed her way into a high security facility for the expressed purpose of bearing him said quite the opposite.

“And now,” she hissed, leaning forward, “you’re sitting in this cell. With nothing.”

The phrik flop was thrust forward, directly at Acier's chest with all the bravado and threat of a sword.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

Acier Moonbound

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Republic Space - [REDACTED]

Equipment:
Inmate Jumpsuit | Cybernetic Arm

Fatine was right again. He did deserve more. Too bad the Republic hadn't agreed.

Ace didn't need the Force to see what burned behind the dark lenses of her sunglasses. The hurt masked as fury. His eyes tracked the movement of her leg as she slipped off one sandal, only for his attention to snag on the metallic gleam along its edges.

Was that phrik? The realization came a heartbeat before the projectile. Ace caught it cleanly in his right hand with a muted clack, more by reflex than intention. He stared at it for a second, turning it over slightly between his fingers. She'd actually thrown a phrik sandal at him.

Then her words caught up to him. His gaze slowly lifted until it found the dark lenses hiding her eyes. He'd had her, and there wasn't anything he wanted more than to leave all of this behind. To steal a freighter, take Fatine's hand, and disappear into some forgotten corner of Wild Space where nobody knew their names. No Sith. No Jedi. No war. Just the two of them.

But every time the fantasy surfaced, reality crushed it just as quickly. He'd never be able to live with himself, not after everything he'd done.

As Fatine continued, Ace listened without interruption. His eyes drifted toward the second sandal now brandished like a duelist's blade, following each movement as though it were somehow safer to focus on the improvised weapon than the pain behind it.

None of it was unfair. He had grown a conscience too late. He had thrown everything away. And now... now this cell was simply where the road he'd chosen ended.

When the phrik flop thrust toward his chest, Ace casually reached up with his cybernetic hand and gently nudged it aside using only his index and middle fingers.

"You don't get it, 'Tine." His voice was quiet, eyes lowering. "Tapani. Coruscant. Balmorra. The Trinity. Humbraine... I did--" His jaw tightened. "I killed innocent people. Played a part in the Sith Covenant's domination of the Core."

His prosthetic lowered to his side while his remaining hand drifted almost unconsciously on top of his prison jumpsuit, fingertips brushing the branching scars hidden beneath the fabric. Pale lightning etched permanently across his chest and shoulder... the ghosts of another mistake.

"'Cause I thought I was working toward stabilizing the galaxy. Making it safer for you. For us." His fingers lingered against the scars before falling away. "I was just kidding myself."

Silence settled between them for a moment before he continued.

"And when I finally realized that... I didn't want to drag you down with me. Figured it'd be better if you forgot about me. Find somebody who wasn't as much of a mess as I am."

A sad smile threatened to appear before dying almost immediately.

"Be happy."

The words sounded simple. He'd repeated them to himself enough times that they'd almost begun to feel true. Almost. But even now... after everything...

Just looking at her, the woman he loved, was enough to make the conviction he'd spent so long building begin to crack.

Fatine von Ascania​

 

[Fatine von Ascania]

When Ace caught the sandal, Fatine’s fury rose with a hiss between clenched teeth. Still, she was satisfied with the attention.

“Stabiliz- for me?” she balked. “That’s the dumbest chit I’ve ever heard! Seriously, Ace, do you think I’ll fall for that? Any idiot can see that killing a bunch of randos doesn’t help stabilize anything,” she snorted.

Fatine decided that planting both feet firmly on the cold, grimy floor of a prison cell was unpleasant, she snatched the phrik flop from Ace’s hand and grumbled as she hurriedly slipped the footwear back on.

“Well, anyone except for the Sith and Jedi. All you ever do is make a mess of everything, and it’s everyone else who pays the price.”

And the Mandalorians, too, while she was at it. Her people had learned to fear the sight of a beskar helm for a reason.

Out of words, Fatine grimaced as she paced erratically in front of Acier, footsteps clacking in irritation. Then, she stopped short.

“Be…” Fatine repeated, too shocked for indignation to worm its way into her voice. It finally did, once she rounded on Ace. “Be happy?!” she snarled, hands clamped to the swell of her hips as she leaned into his personal space.

“You don’t get to tell me to be happy. You don’t get to tell me to do anything.”

She glared at him over the rim of her shades before receding back to her full height. There was a beat, a moment, where her shoulders dropped and her voice, ragged, softened.

“If you wanted to run, I would’ve run with you, Acier.”

Acier Moonbound

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Republic Space - [REDACTED]

Equipment:
Inmate Jumpsuit | Cybernetic Arm

Ace let out a slow breath through his nose. She didn't believe him, but why would she? The dark side hadn't simply made him cruel. It had partially twisted his judgment and reasoning, enough for him to carry on with what he was doing. But the rest, however, was on him and him alone. At the time, he'd truly believed what he was doing would protect people like her.

Trying to explain that now would only sound like another excuse. Besides, with how Fatine already viewed the Jedi and Sith alike, talking about the Force would've just made her angrier.

Maybe she was right to reject it. People like him, Arris, Lysander, Mercy, Varin, people who had a hand in causing chaos and destruction across the galaxy. Leaving others, people like Fatine, to deal with the consequences.

When Fatine stepped into his space, fury crackling behind every word, Ace didn't retreat. His expression only softened.

"...You're right. I'm sorry. I never wanted to take that away from you." He hesitated, eyes dropping to the floor and the words catching in his throat. "It's just... it's not just that I think you deserve to be happy. I don't think I deserve you."

Silence settled between them. Then came her answer and his stomach fluttered. Before he could stop himself, he'd closed the distance again. His hands found hers instinctively, holding them gently between his own.

"I know you would've. That's what scared me." He searched her face for a long moment. "Throwing everything away... for a monster."

The question lingered between them before he slowly let her hands slip free. Ace turned away, taking a few measured steps toward the back of the cell.

"If we'd run away together..." He said quietly, head lowered. "...I never would've been able to settle. The shit I did would've eaten at me."

He stared at the cold durasteel beneath his feet.

"And it wouldn't have been fair. For you to have to live with someone like that."

Because he knew himself. The guilt wouldn't have disappeared simply because they had. It would've followed him into every sunrise, every quiet meal, every laugh that died before it could reach the surface. Little by little, it would've hollowed him out until the man Fatine had chosen no longer existed. And it wouldn't have been fair to ask her to spend the rest of her life loving the shell he'd become.

Fatine von Ascania ​