Through the Glass

[Joza Perl]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NbzY7_vZ1pI[/youtube]​

It began before she joined the Silvers. Before the Alliance, before she’d been thrown into the wildly unfamiliar territory of allegiance and responsibility. He was there before it started. He encouraged it, even. He’d loved her, and she’d loved him.

This is where the cliché train wreck of a relationship kicks in.

After that morning on Bespin, things shifted from pleasant to hell. One betrayal lead to another, and then another, and another until they’d fallen down the rabbit hole of conflicting alignments, exacerbated only by their own violent emotions. They tried to make it work, but in the process only pushed each other further away. Maybe it had never been love all along, but lust. Physical obviously, but emotional lust for someone to feel a connection with. Someone to adore, someone to hold you when things went wrong. And boy had things gone wrong.

B A K U R A :::..

That day on Bakura had been the last good day between them. It was so long ago—they were both teenagers, bright eyed and not yet jaded from the harsh ways of the galaxy. They believed in love, believed in each other. In the back of their minds perhaps they knew it couldn’t last. And it didn’t, but sometimes reality was too harsh to consistently bare.

Joza sat near the top of one of the sloping hills, bare feet twining in the grass idly. She’d withdrawn into her own little world since the second invasion of Ruusan, wondering where exactly her future was projecting. The last time she’d been in this place, her future was uncertain but exciting. Now, she was wary.

Still, it was nice to pretend, even if only for a few hours, that none of that had happened. That right now was just an extension of that last good day, and she could breathe unhindered for just a little while longer before picking up her saber and heading off into who knows what.

It was over, it was done, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he ever thought about the same things.

[member="Haytham Kaze"]​

 

[Haytham Kaze]

Bakura.

A beautiful planet. Plains, forests, so much life.

An eidetic memory did not help him to cast the image of the planet out of his mind. It was perfect, a place that [member="Joza Perl"] had picked out for their first real meeting. They had been too wrapped up in each other to actually care for the life that they passed.

They had been young then.

Oh, how he had grown.

He raised a hand to the root of a tree lazily, as if he were greeting someone. Casually, the Dark Side of the Force was summoned and from his left hand extended a force net. An unbreakable mesh of pure Dark Side energy. It cut, and it sapped life from the trapped target. But to what end? The net travelled the distance in a heartbeat, wrapping itself around the tree instantly as if it were a lover's embrace. There was no life for it to sap, no actual Force energy.

It sliced the tree and disappeared, as if it had been a ghost that he cut down the tree with perfect lines.

With one hand he took life.

Deep down, he reached back into his past. Memories from long ago, past memories that one should never have, until he found his humble beginnings.

Into the earth he went, extending his will through the Force itself. What had once been a gutted trunk, rose up again, casting the former cut tree down into a dark shadow.

With the other he gave it.

The Dark Side was not unkind.

He looked up suddenly.

A small clearing.

It wasn't just familiar, he had been there before.

An armoured God lowered himself to the ground slowly, sending his hand over the blades of grass gently.

Power doesn't come freely.

But this was my birthright.

The Jedi failed in their duty for peace. And so has the Sith Triumvirate. Only war. Only... War. That is what these people understand.

A fist clenched, the grass darkened as the Dark Side practically seeped from his living essence.

This is cruelty.

This isn't right.

What gives this planet the right to be peaceful, when wars were waged across the stars? When hundreds of thousands died at the order of the few? Children. Children who would never see their loved ones again.

 

[Joza Perl]

She breathed in, and the illusion fractured. She wasn’t alone here, and in a moment his presence seemed to fill her, deep into her lungs as she drew a breath. It had changed so much since they both found themselves here together—she’d changed, they’d changed.

Nostalgia and nausea washed through her at once as she stood, grabbing her discarded saber hilt but leaving her shoes. Joza drifted towards the only other presence in the valley, moving like a pink specter among the hills of grass and fields of flowers. At last, she spotted him. His back was turned to her, crouching in a small clearing they’d gotten to know intimately during their last visit.

He likely would have felt her approach. The Zeltron made no attempt to hide her presence from him now. As dangerous as the situation looked from the outside, the grip on her hilt was neither tight notr slack. She didn’t expect him to attack her, and, well, if he did—this would be the hill she’d die on.

Or they’d turn the peaceful meadows of Bakura red with their blood.

“I suppose even Sith need respite from the Galaxy’s wars.”

Her voice was not quiet, but held a distinct note of softness—not unkind, but not pleasant either. It was more out of curiosity, testing the waters to see if she still knew the man before her. Emerald gaze swept over him silently for a few moments.

“I…”

She sounded as if she wanted to say something, but stopped short. Her shoulders rose and fell in a shrug.

“I’m not even sure what name to call you by anymore.”

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

 

[Haytham Kaze]

He sensed when a presence drew close to him.

Still, he did not move, he knew who it was, and he could sense no violent intentions.

Still, he remained wary.

Respite from the Galaxy's wars...

A gauntlet clenched a patch of the dead grass. He straightened, clump in hand as he got up from his lowered position. The Dark Lord of the Sith had nothing to hide. He turned around to the Jedi, crimson orbs glowing in his skull as he looked upon the Zeltron.

"Respite from war you antagonized." His words were dry, certainly not caring, and oh so devoid of emotion. The chances of someone being capable of making the Sith appear to be evil to the Dark Lord would be easy. He knew what he was, he'd done bad, never would he deny that. There were no illusions of his nature of doing good. He had set out to do good, started as a Jedi. He had continued with those goals, he still did. But the person in front of him made that difficult.

I do what is necessary.

"Haytham Kaze is dead."

"It doesn't matter what you call me."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

She studied him as he spoke—the way he moved, the lack of emotion in his voice. Cold and dry, like the desert at night. It wasn’t unusual, at least not from him. She wondered if anything he said could still hurt her, or if there’d been enough distance between them for bitter words to fall flat.

It wasn’t just his aura that had changed. He was a different man, war and the Sith had hardened him—or made him paranoid and narrow minded. She couldn’t decide, and didn’t have the desire to figure it out. It would be too complicated, their love was now a lost cause. To try and re-forge something like that would destroy one, or even both of them.

He was still handsome, having grown into his own rugged looks over the past few years. That did not escape her notice, and perhaps there was still an inkling of fire inside her for her first love. For a few moments, she admired him in a purely aesthetic sense.

“Respite all the same.” She wouldn’t comment on his accusation, not wanting a fight. At least, not that sort.

“I know.” She murmured, moreso to herself. “I miss him.”

She shifted, moving her weight to one hip. A thought came to mind, the implications striking her like a blaster shot to the brain. It was this exact place where she’d prodded him with a certain question long ago.

“Would you kill me if you had to?”

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

 

[Haytham Kaze]

Athyssius resisted the temptation of twitching at her words.

Instead, he satisfied himself with a tilt of his head to the side to look at her with a different angle.

Miss him.

"You did your part in killing him, [member="Joza Perl"]." There was an anger behind his words, but no the sort that should give her cause to fear for her life. But, they had been away from each other for so long. How else would she respond? Nevertheless, it was a muted anger.

Then she asked that question.

A part of him wanted to say no, to take it all back, but he didn't care enough. It was a small part, hardly able to be registered.

"I would do it if I wanted to."

He paused.

"Why have you come?"

He didn't mean to the planet. He meant there, to his location. Why?

 

[Joza Perl]

There’d never been this much anger in his words before. Not even when they fought on Ruusan, not even when she’d betrayed him. It wasn’t as outright as it had been either of those times, but it was there. Smoldering behind a composed façade.

“But you haven’t.”

There were certainly some choice words or topics she could—and wanted—to hurl at him. But instead, she tilted her head to the side, letting a tendril of loose hair drift to one side.

Even if he’d held a blade to her throat then and there, she did not fear him. Even if he was capable of killing her, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him as a stone cold enemy. A soft heart, or perhaps she thought he overestimated himself. Maybe she was focused on something other than the empty threat of his anger.

“I was curious to see what I’d find.” Her answer was honest, devoid of the hatred that had welled up inside her for so long. She paused, tensed even. So many cruel thoughts ran through her head, so many bitter words danced on her tongue. But hatred would only blur her senses and cloud her mind.

“I’m sorry.” She took a step closer, eyes trained carefully on his form to detect any sudden or hostile movements. “That I couldn’t save you from the Sith.” Another step. “And I'm sorry," One more step closer, if he would allow it she'd be within arm's length of him.

"That I couldn’t be what you wanted me to be.”

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

 

[Haytham Kaze]

...

He should just kill her there.

But he saw no reason to do so.

Finally he realized that the clump of dirt was still within his hand and he clenched it tightly in the gauntlet before it squeezed through the fingers and dropped to the ground that he stood on. It touched down, poisoned dirt, the Dark Side seeping into the ground only moments before, but then his force potential stopped leaking into the earth, and he rolled his shoulders back into a shrug.

She stepped closer.

He didn't react.

Crimson orbs watched her from that tilted angle. Save me from the Sith. He shook his head from side to side suddenly. There was no one who was able to save him from the Sith, for there was nothing to save, no reason to save him. He had chosen the Dark Side, the Sith, Darth Orcus. All of it. It was all him. That's what no one seemed to understand. They all thought he had been influenced to the Dark Side, they all thought they understood the Dark Side. Rumours, fighting against the Dark Side.

All of these Jedi thought they knew best.

He did too when he was a Padawan.

"You're not sorry. You never tried to understand my situation." Now he stepped forward, about a metre closer, but that was only to step out of the circle of black grass he had created. Once out, he crossed his arms over his shoulder. "How many Masters of your Sanctum of Hypocrisy did you talk to rehabilitate you after you tried to kill me? Three? Five? Let me guess as to how it went, you provided a weak, doubt filled defense of me, and they told you that I was evil -- that all Sith were evil. We're all the same, all of us carbon copies of each other." He tilted his head again. "I know this because you once mentioned Matsu Xiangu to me. As if I was anything like her." There was a shaking of his head.

"Your Jidai Masters are limited in their knowledge of the Force. They have only seen one side of the coin, ignoring the existence of the opposite, believing it to be ugly and contorted." Another shake of his head.

"You're not sorry. Perhaps regret, but I can't believe you're apologetic. Not when you tried to kill me."

One would've thought he spoke the words with hate. But no hatred filled his words. No rage, just an even tone. Was there sadness in his voice? Sadness that she couldn't trust him to not be corrupted, manipulated? Or was it disappointment? He supposed it didn't matter, for she had gone to Ruusan for a second time, knowing he would be there. To what end? Another hypocritical Jedi, he may as well just end her then. But no, it was closer to the end of appreciation for her pushing him over the edge.

If not, he would've have the power he had now.

Chances were, he wouldn't have killed Darth Orcus, not so soon if it hadn't been for Joza.

"I expected nothing from you.

Yet, I still feel disappointment."

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza lapsed into silence, allowing Haytham as much room as he needed to speak without her interjecting. Instead of preparing a defense in her mind, she absorbed his words, turning them over and over as she tried to understand what was behind them. This wasn’t the first time they’d clashed, and she found that she didn’t feel the need to act a particular way in front of him.

Some of his words were deflected by her sense of self, but others sunk into her flesh like barbs and stayed there. It hurt, but it wasn’t as if she were unprepared. With Haytham…Vanitas…she never came out unscathed.

At his final word, a frown tilted her lips. She exhaled slowly through her nose.

“Either you’re lying, or you never really thought that much of me to begin with. Not in terms of affection and adoration, but as a person with my own independent thoughts and desires. You never learned how to love, Haytham, you only knew how to possess. We never loved each other right.”

When the topic of her trying to kill him arose, Joza’s face firmed and she closed her eyes for a few moments, breathing steadily out her nose. After a few seconds of relative silence, her eyes opened and her gaze refocused on the man before her. “I had so much anger towards you in that moment, so much that I lost myself to the Dark when you tried to free me. What hurt most is the fact that my autonomy met nothing to you. Your precious Dark Side only ignited my anger to its boiling point, and I raised my blade to kill you—and anyone who got in my way.” A pause. Perhaps she should have done it.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I couldn’t condone your lust for power. I’m sorry for being so influential to the point where I did my part in killing Haytham Kaze, despite you expecting nothing from me. If I don’t understand your situation, then explain it to me. I legitimately want to understand why you took the path that you did, because saving the galaxy as a Sith is the definition of ironic. Or perhaps I’m just not enlightened enough.”

“You don't give them enough credit. The Masters of the Sanctum have not all followed the straight and narrow path of a Jedi. Some have touched the Dark, and all have faced it at one point. They’ve seen it for what it is and know why they fight in the Light. Sith are not carbon copies—and that’s what makes them dangerous; they’re people, and like all people they’re a culmination of their experiences. Each one is different, yet they all hold the same lust for power and control and it eventually consumes them until they burn everything they touch. The Silvers aren’t the only ones who helped me realize this—it was the Sith that put me through so much. The Light never tried to hurt me…it was always patient, understanding.”

Some of her words were paraphrased from her talk with [member="Connor Harrison"], shortly after she stumbled her way back onto Voss in a haze of Darksided confusion. The Rogue Master had talked with her, prodded her with questions until he'd gotten a good look into her scrambled mind. Even now, she was slowly coming to the realization of how much she appreciated his guidance.

Still, her voice tapered off, as if she wanted the same things for Haytham. She wanted to pull him out of this, away from the Dark, but he would never let her. If there was anything left in him that cared for her, it was burned beneath the layers of hatred and disgust he had for her—and she couldn’t blame him. This was inevitable, and it crushed her more than he’d know.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t stop this earlier. We never would have worked, as willful as we both are and as dedicated to our causes as we may be.”

The firmness in her voice dropped for a moment as she reached out to grasp his shoulder. If he’d allow it, she would squeeze gently but do nothing more.

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

Spoiler

 

[Haytham Kaze]

Athyssius listened when she spoke. Much of her words entered one side of his head, and exited the other, but it wasn't as if he could forget what she said. Everything he experienced was remembered. A blessing and a curse was an eidetic memory, he had come to learn. "Possess? You made it clear no one and nothing could control you. Not even you could control yourself," he said drily. With those last few words he referenced many things. Her polygamous nature, or the fact that she couldn't stop herself from trying to kill him on Ruusan.

"Your autonomy meant so little to me." Never had he believed the Force directed his actions, never did he believe he was travelling down a predetermined path. Not until this moment. "The Force destined for us to be on opposite sides. You were never on my side," he said matter of factly. "Every time it was your friends, your order, you. Never me. I could never take revenge, for it was wrong, but sudden attacks and betrayals were well within your right because you're... You." He raised a brow, daring her to deny his words. "Enlighten me. Show me another angle that I haven't seen before. Do any exist?" He doubted it. A gauntlet pushed locks of his black hair out of his eyes.

Where in the past his hair would've been wild, unkempt, it had a defined shape now. Controlled, perfectly framing his strong, rugged features. With a single glance, one could guess that he had seen much. Had done much. So much.

"You met Darth Orcus. You don't need me to explain how a Sith would bring peace to a war-torn Galaxy. You saw Ruusan. You've been in Triumvirate Space. What crime was there? What war? Peace. No slavery. Workers. Paid a fair stipend for the job they performed." He shook his head again. "Yes, all Sith are different. These Masters that I give such little credit to? They couldn't see this. They'd think the Sith like Orcus, Adekos, Carach, me, to all be the same. That is why you came to Ruusan, no?" Because they carried the title of Sith, and Sith were evil. A foolish notion. The Jedi of this time were limited in their view, he had determined. One had to wield both sides of the Force he had learned to become powerful. To become a true paragon of peace. But associating with the Light Side, with these... Jidai, was practically hypocrisy.

"I am not here to defend the Sith. I gained my power from joining the ranks of the Sith, but Sith like the One Sith are corruption itself. Filth. Barbarians. Everything has a price. Your Jidai determined that was the way to do things when they attacked. Twice." His fists clenched at that.

"Dedicated to our causes..." He said in a low voice, quietly repeating her words, mulling them over as he racked his brain. "Was it not you..." He started in a low voice, "That said you were hardly a Jidai?" Crimson orbs scanned the pink woman as her arm reached out to him. He let her touch his shoulder.

In a heartbeat his hand was around her throat, but he did not squeeze. He did not hurt [member="Joza Perl"]. He couldn't determine as to why just yet. "What is your cause? War? You'll be hard-pressed to prove otherwise."

 

[Joza Perl]

“I wasn’t fair to you. It was hard to keep everyone I cared for safe from each other when everyone suddenly started trying to murder each other. It wasn’t fair. I wasn’t fair. But a part of me was scared of you.” Her words were low and murmured, but audible giving their close proximity. “I never wanted any of it to happen, but it did, and I dealt with it poorly. I didn’t like what Nik did, and believe me he knew it. I won’t try to explain that he did it out of love.” Because you won’t listen. “But why should I be okay with you trying to kill someone I care for? You dangled your plans to harm him in front of me, taunted me with it. I know he hurt you, and it was wrong, hence me seeking you out just to apologize for that. But that wasn't good enough. You couldn’t see past revenge.”

She licked her lips, dry and cracked as they were as his hand latched around her throat. Her eyes flared, her body attempting to lurch into defense mode but the only thing that moved was the hand on his shoulder. It slid down and along his arm, fingers wrapping along his outstretched wrist. She applied very minimal pressure, nothing obviously tight or painful. She’d always imagined that if she was in this situation, she’d be quick to fight back. But something stopped her, and it was frustrating.

“We can stand here and argue all day over allegiances, Orders, Jedi, Sith—but it will mean nothing. We’re too set in our ways.”

Fear. Not fear that he would hurt or kill her—though she didn’t deny herself the reality that he could or would—but fear in the realization of how she’d torn them apart. Hadn’t she? Things could never go back to gentle caresses and sweet words because of how careless and sloppy she’d been. Perhaps as a defense mechanism, she began to release pheromones. Would it soften him? She doubted it. Maybe they were more for her own benefit.

She exhaled slowly, eyes sweeping downward briefly at the hand around her neck. How familiar. He’d be able to feel the raise flesh of her slave brand against his fingers.

“Suppose there’s no turning a whore into a housewife.” Her lips upturned in a barely there, bittersweet smirk.

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

 

[Haytham Kaze]

He could've squeezed her throat, put an end to it all right here, right now. But how many would come after him after? How many would he have to slay to defend himself, so that he may continue on the path to peace? Many, he imagined. Jedi and Mandalorians alike. He was tempted to crush her throat, just for the sake of Mandalorians hunting him. He could kill those that took his parents away from him. He could've done so much. But there could never be a peace for the Dark Lord of the Sith. Triumvir of War.

Or was it of Law?

It was complicated considering the existence of Darth Ashmedai.

"You don't care do you? You'd let me kill you here."

Why?

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Weakness. He was her weakness. And right now, he was right—if he killed her right now, that would be it. Nothing but the sweet serenity of death, or so she thought.

Stop that. As much as she wanted to fall to him, she forcibly sobered up. This wasn’t her…this woman willing to die for her mistakes wasn’t Joza Perl, but a warped version of her. There were many things she could have done, in theory, to sever the grip from her throat, but she was not tempted to move.

“I miss you, Haytham.” She murmured, thumb stroking the wrist of his hand. “I won’t die, but I’ll mourn the loss of the man that I Ioved.”

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

 

[Haytham Kaze]

His hand brushed gently over the adam's apple that he could feel in her throat.

He didn't press on it, just brushed it gently as he thought of his next actions.

"You will die," he corrected. "But I won't kill you," his hand snaked around her throat to the back of her neck and in a moment that lacked thought, he lowered his own lips to her face as he kissed her.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Any sane person would have felt relief at those words. Relief and confusion. Joza was unsure of what she felt, or how she should react. All she knew was that his hand brushed against her throat, slipping around to the back of her neck.

In an instant, the fields of Bakura and their brilliant flowers faded into the background. All there was was the feel of his lips against her own, and the brief hope that things hadn’t changed as much as they had. It died as quickly as it came, and she kissed him back.

[member="Haytham Kaze"]

F A D E T O B L A C K​