Private While You Were Away

[Judah Lesan]

LOCATION: COURUSCANT UNDERGROUND
WEARING: This | TAG: Malcoma Hesse​

It wasn’t really hiding, not in the sense that most thought of it. The busyness of the galaxy made every moment valuable, something that one could not afford to toss away as some idle thing. If age had taught the older Jedi Master anything, it was that some things in life were meant to be cherished more than others. Malcolma Hesse was not just one of those things, she was the most important thing.

Judah had never thought he would find love again, not after his beloved Red had passed away. His life had not afforded him the time to make the effort it took for such connections. He had convinced himself the Jedi of yesteryear had it correct. Attachments were not only a distraction, but they led to the dark side. Judah had to convince himself of it for as long as he blamed himself for not being there enough for his wife and their son. He felt responsible for her death, even though there was no truth to it. Time had yet to remove that wound. Judah would have to forgive himself one day, but he did not feel he would ever deserve to be free from the guilt he carried.

Mal had been a gift. Their meeting had been less than ideal and certainly left quite the first impression. Any who would have witnessed the first meeting would have likely said the pair would never get along. They were mismatched from the start. She was the criminal, a worldly woman, and he was the ever valiant and noble Jedi. Somehow they did. They both overlooked things about the other which should have made them steer clear from one another. Maybe it had been the way she made him feel less alone, or the fact her girls had given him a purpose outside of the Order. All Judah knew was what had started as casual and flirtatious banter became something more, something serious.

He wasn’t hiding from the galaxy. Judah was simply waiting for her.

They had agreed to meet after he contacted her, something about needing to talk about something they couldn’t discuss over comms. Mal had teased her about the fact he was just looking for an excuse to see her again, but in truth, they never really needed to make those. Judah knew how and where to find her, and she often knew the same. He was convinced he was the harder one to find, especially when the galaxy was going to hell in a handbasket more days than not.

The small one bedroom apartment Judah rented on Coruscant smelled of brewing caf. It needed to, constantly, in order to drive away the smells of the lower levels. No one would ever think to look for a Jedi here, and that was precisely why he had kept it. A Shadow had to remain exactly that. Luxury did not keep him hidden, even if he preferred to be comfortable. In truth, he was safer among the seedier elements than out in the open anyway.

They were safer.

A smile pulled at his lips when he heard the door woosh open. Mal had her own passcode, and the fact the security he had rigged at the entry remained silent and inactive meant she had arrived. His hair was longer than when they had met last. In fact, it was long enough Judah had it tied up in a messy manbun. His temples were graying now, and his beard was certainly showing the signs of his age more than the rest of his hair did. It was certainly one place they were mismatched. He should have been too old for her.

“Hey you…”

Judah stood with his shoulder leaning against the threshold of the hall near the kitchen. He held out a fresh cup of caf.

“Missed you.”

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

Malcoma's natural inclination was not to blend in.

But neither was it for the reality of a situation to be lost on her, and this one? This one was weighty. So much so that it could easily crush both herself and Judah underneath it should one of them shift wrong. So she opted to dress inconspicuously for her rendezvous with the Jedi Master.

Her glance around for witnesses or surveillance probes as she approached the door was discreet, practiced. She saw no one, no thing, but a thread of anxiety still pierced her gut. The sensation urged her to cast off her shawl, but instead she raised her fingers to the pin pad and tapped in the passcode. She almost floated inside the apartment, eager for the door to shut as soon as possible, hoping to leave the outside world at the stoop.

Judah's acknowledgement doused the fire kindling deep in her gut fed by the worry that he might not recognize her like this: dressed in a manner that was so different to her own.

Of course he could. Of course he would. He was a Jedi Master. She'd need to do much more than simply change her fashion sense and dirty up her hair to confuse him.

Her relief dissolved to reality and she saw his robes. An exasperated comment pushed its way up her throat. She was saying it before she could stop herself.

"What are you wearing?!"

As she crossed over to him, she slid her shawl from her shoulders. She stood on her toes to wrap it around him.

He would likely notice that, though her voice was hard but hushed, her fingers shook.

Judah Lesan​

 

[Judah Lesan]

LOCATION: COURUSCANT UNDERGROUND
WEARING: This | TAG: Malcoma Hesse​

"What are you wearing?!"

Judah shrugged as he looked at his attire. So he had not exactly left the Jedi part behind, though, he did point to his own cover hanging over the back of one of the chairs.

“I beat you here, remember.”

He smirked as she wrapped her shawl around him.

“I could take it off though, if you want.”

Judah could not help but tease her, though there was a strong part of him which was incredibly serious. How long had it been since they had seen each other, let alone been together. War had been a fickle mistress indeed, and if she only knew half of what Judah had been through since Echnos. Judah had left her just before that mission. What he had not expected was to find himself face to face with the Empress of the Sith herself. The battle had been one he was not prepared for.

His body would have new scars that Mal would not have memorized.

The smirk faded from something less playful to a small smile which appeared happy, even if it did not quite reach his eyes. A short sigh escaped his lungs. It was full of relief. They were together again. She was safe. He was… unbroken. Judah placed a kiss on her forehead as he used the force to bring a subtle calm and peace into the room.

It was quiet as Judah held her. Their default was banter. He would tease and she would have some witty and sharp retort. Sometimes it could sting because the blonde did not exactly play fair. She wouldn’t be the woman Judah had fallen in love with otherwise, and he would not have her be any other way. They needed this moment, and maybe something more tender and intimate later as well.

“I’m sorry.”

It was quiet, but powerful. There was no reason for her to chastise him any further for his absence. He had been gone longer than he had hoped. When everyone returned from the fight, Judah had spent months in a bacta tank. No one knew to send word to Malcoma because no one knew she shared part of her life with the Master Shadow.

His forehead pressed to hers.

“Forgive me… hmm?”

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

"I could take it off though, if you want."

"Don't be difficult," she muttered near his ear before she eased herself back down onto the flat heels of her boots. The ground still felt uneven even though she had been walking on them for hour already.

Her eyes fluttered closed as he kissed her cheek. A hand gently took hold of the back of his head, gently slotting him into the crook of her neck. Though she had clearly tried to downplay her degree of personal maintenance to play the part of an average, unfortunate denizen of the Underworld, she still smelled faintly of gardenia, like her favorite perfume had infused her very skin after years of heavier use.

"I didn't meant to be difficult," she continued, quieter still as her nails now clipped short threaded through his hair now long. "It's just been so..." The slow rise and fall of her chest were ellipses as she trailed off, considering her choice of word. "...difficult," she finally settled on, aware but uncaring that she had repeated herself once more than she had meant to, and also that difficult in this statement was a mighty understatement.

Coruscant was being tugged back and forth by the Galactic Alliance and various forces of interstellar evil like they were children. The rope had long started fraying. It was bound to snap sooner rather than later if nothing changed, if no one won. Mal didn't care who won, at least not now, as long as the pulling ended.

When he pulled back to rest his head on hers, she let him. "Fine," she whispered, softly kneading the nape of his neck. She didn't feel the need to forgive him, not because she wanted to withhold it, but because he hadn't done anything wrong. At least not to her. This—the being apart, the uncertainty, the danger—was a product of the lives they had and still did lead individually. He was a Jedi Shadow. She was a mobster. Of course it all would compound when they were together.

It all scared her, yes, but this way a side of desperation so very different than anything she had felt while enslaved, or on the streets before she had built her business and brand. Both were unsafe in their way, but this one held hope and something heavy and warm that Mal wasn't ready to name quite yet.

"Quiet now."

Judah Lesan​

 

[Judah Lesan]

LOCATION: COURUSCANT UNDERGROUND
WEARING: This | TAG: Malcoma Hesse​

“I’m not trying to be…”

His words were breathy, more a whisper, as the heat of them brushed against her neck. He inhaled deep. Gardenia. It was a far cry from the scent of Jasmine and Rain which had tortured him for months. He was not ready to tell her, not yet. Mal’s scent grounded him in the here and now. He was with her, not fighting the Echani. Something of her had been left in his mind, something that tugged at him. Judah could not explain it, but he knew they would meet again.

Fingers brushed around the back of his neck. It nearly made the man shiver and spill the caf in his hand. The blonde had not taken the offered cup, and it was all he could do to focus long enough to set the cup against the counter without spilling it. There would be plenty of time for the dark roast later. Judah was right where he needed to be in the moment. More than that, Mal was right where she needed to be. Judah’s arms no longer felt empty.

He sighed into her, sensing the tension she still carried. At least she forgave him. Her words elicited the smallest of nods as the man did not want to remove his head from hers. Judah had never planned to be gone for as long as he inevitably seemed to always be. Their lives pulled them apart constantly. This, their respite from it all, was one of a few occasions where they could forget for the briefest of seconds.

It was never long enough.

Judah obeyed. His words grew silent, and whatever else he wanted to say was lost to her command. The hand that had offered the caf now came to rest just under the woman’s chin. He lifted it slightly, tilting her head until their lips met. Judah was soft at first, but by the second and third kiss, the longing he felt for her took over. Whatever the reason he had concocted so they could meet did not mean a thing now. It was as much an excuse as her invitation to help her clean a safe house had been. This was going to end the same way.

It did end the same way.

A quiet calm settled between them as they lay together. What they truly needed to say to one another did not need words. A few stolen moments of intimacy together and all seemed right in the galaxy. For now. Judah pushed the thoughts of what awaited him once they departed out of his mind. The damnable curse of his mind was that it was always on the go, always thinking about the next mission and what needed to be done. No, he was here. He pressed his lips against Mal’s bare shoulder simply as an excuse to capture the aroma of her perfume once more.

Gardenia.

It grounded him.

Sheets rustled as he settled back onto the pillow. He could sleep if he let it take him, but not now. Words formed at the edge of his tongue, more serious than the banter they had shared. Judah was afraid to say them out loud because it would change things. He knew what he felt, but neither of them truly acknowledged it. They had their way about it all. It was an odd thought that he was as seasoned as he was, yet in this arena he was still a fool.

“Mal.”

Just one word. Her name. It was all he could manage this time.

“I almost died this time. It was too close.”

He still avoided what he wanted to say.

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

She had known what Judah was likely to initiate the moment she pulled him closer.

But she didn't know how to handle this relatively new feeling: the not dreading it. Playing a certain part in physical encounters was baked into her muscles for better or for worse. In her extensive experience, it was easier to get what she wanted from people if they got what they wanted from her first. And most of them wanted a specific range of things on the baser spectrum.

But, with Judah, her body seemed hers again. She could experience being with him. She wasn't just present, pretending that she wanted to go through the motions but only passively engaged underneath the surface.

If she was any other woman, that'd make her cry.

After, she lay almost touching him. Thin, sinuous lines of cigarra smoke wafted towards the ceiling. She blew out one more lung's worth before turning to him at her name.

"I almost died this time. It was too close."

Her brow knit, an action she never did without thinking about its consequences years down the line. She propped herself up on one arm bowed underneath her head. "Darling," she cooed. Unsure of what to say next, she shifted her cigarra between her fingers so that it wouldn't touch his face when she caressed his cheek.

Judah Lesan​

 

[Judah Lesan]

LOCATION: COURUSCANT UNDERGROUND
WEARING: This | TAG: Malcoma Hesse​

It took all of his willpower to keep himself from diving back into her. This was different than the night before he left. He had seen her on Hapes. They danced in the living room. There was no music, fancy clothes, or socialites to impress. It had just been them, always in private away from the prying eyes of those who would deign to report their escapades to anyone who did not need to know about them.

He laid in the bed, a free hand reaching for the one on his face. Deft fingers plucked the cigarra from hers, and before she could protest, Judah tamped it into the ash tray. It was a habit of hers that did not manifest around him often, but the Jedi was almost positive it was one he did not like. The scent of the smoke took away from her, and that would simply not do.

Judah pushed himself up onto his elbows. She did not know what to say, and that was fine. He supposed there was really nothing to say, not anything that would make what he said any less difficult.

There was that word again.

All Judah cared about for the moment was that she was here. They were together for however long they would be for this time, and they had not wasted any of it thus far. Every moment mattered. Judah knew that more than anyone, and even more so now. When his eyes closed, he could still hear the sound of the rubble of an entire building collapsing in on him. Had it not been for a break in the ground large enough for him to fall through, Judah would still be there.

Jasmine and Rain.

The aroma had still managed to cut through the memory like something which had branded him. He shook his head slightly before settling his gaze on the woman next to him.

"Echnos was a disaster. The Sith knew we were coming, and they were ready. They did not care that the city was full of people, and when the soldiers moved on the city, the Sith turned it all into one giant nightmare. The Empress… she had this device that…"

Judah trailed off for a moment before pushing off the bed and walking toward the refresher. He started the shower, avoiding the story for as long as he possibly could. This was the first time in months he had told anyone of what happened. Sure, the technical details of it had been in his report to the Council, but that was different.

The emotions of it were still raw.

"I tried stopping it, but she was too powerful. We fought. She brought the entire building down on me."

Mal did not have to hear him to know it was the truth. His back contained the scars from bits of duracrete and shattered glass from the battle. Bacta did not repair everything. Some wounds were too deep to hide the scars they produced.

He let the water from shower wash over his body. It was not going to get rid of the memory. Time would have to do its work there. Judah knew the battle with the Empress had broken something in him. He just didn't know what it was yet.

The shower was fast. He dried himself off as he came out of the connected room.

"You want that cup of caf now?"

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

Mal had already seen the scars, though she had tried not to pay attention to them. She had her own marks—scars, a brand, an ownership tattoo—albeit not new but still ones she didn't like to talk about. And for as much as she felt safe around him, she still didn't like him touching them, so she didn't idolize his either. There was nothing romantic or beautiful about those past circumstances or their impressions on her body.

A small hmm was the only reply that Mal gave at first. Then, after a beat, she added, "Yes, well, Sith aren't known for their humanitarianism."

Her tone didn't hold an edge of condescension, though it was somewhat dry and distant—not abnormal for her. Like him, she thought of the last time they met.

"I was passed from the hands of one horrid slaver to another, but I count myself lucky to have never called a Sith master. I would, truly, not wish that kind of Darkness on my worst enemy—not even another slaver."

She still meant that. She would always mean that. Towards the right, or wrong depending on the perspective, people, she was a little more sadistic than the average mobster, viewing sweeping violence including torture as a sometimes necessary tool of her trade, but the Sith? Even she recognized that they went too far. And if she ever changed her mind about that, she hoped that someone close to her would kill her.

She had stopped being mad a long time ago towards the villains of the galaxy: the slavers, the Sith, the so-called law enforcers who couldn't be bothered to help survivors. Though it was ironic, it was also true. She was bitter and vengeful and driven by her own sense of justice, but not mad anymore. Not for decades. To her, feeling mad had often been coupled with a vain hope that the subjects of her anger would change, would do and be better beings. But that very, very rarely happened and always was a waste of her energy.

As he showered, she dressed, then found his underworld garb and placed on the refresher counter for him. She heard a little of his recount over the pattering water and the distance as she moved around the small apartment.

"Thankfully you and your Jedi friends are so spry," she commented from the other side of the drawn curtain as she brushed out her hair. She didn't raise her voice, knowing that Judah probably would be using the Force to augment his hearing over the running water. "You do this for those of us who aren't, yes?" The question was rhetorical; she moved on with the space for just one breath. "You stand up for your family."

They both felt great empathy for those they hadn't even met yet. In that, they were the same. Yes, she had a much smaller scope that he did—former slaves versus all, or at least most, of the galaxy's beings—but in the responsibility that they had taken upon themselves to aid their chosen populations they shared an unshakable value.

Though Malcoma didn't stop to think about it often, she'd like to think that that was what tied them together underneath the physical attraction despite just how unlikely otherwise they were.

"I respect that about you, darling, from one head of household to another."

A longed pause passed, then the water shut off. "But I can advise you not to martyr yourself if you'd like." She didn't turn around as he stepped out of the shower, just caught his eye in the mirror.

"You want that cup of caf now?"

"If you won't let me smoke..." she replied, but the complaint was light. They both knew that she would have wanted the caffeine even if she had finished her cigarra.

With that, she preceded him into the kitchenette. The mug he had offered her sat on the counter. Both of her hands molded around it eagerly. "Oh. It's cold." She took a sip anyway.

Judah Lesan​

 

[Judah Lesan]

LOCATION: COURUSCANT UNDERGROUND
WEARING: This | TAG: Malcoma Hesse​

Judah almost choked on a small chuckle. Malcoma was more than insightful in regards to her estimation of Sith nature. Their lack of humanitarianism was certainly part of the ilk which plagued the galaxy.

They were both lost in their thoughts long enough to allow a small moment of silence to draw out a bit too long. Judah smiled at it. There was a comfort in it that neither of them seemed like they had to rush to fill the space with words or noise. Judah listened when Mal finally did speak again, he always did, always would.

Her usual jovial cadence was present, but the sharpness of her wit was softer now. She traded her barbs for the ointment of understanding. Their exchanges were not often this tender, but Judah had known for a while that Mal hid something gentle beneath the sharp edges. It was as much about preserving as it was about power and control. Judah often admired how she could keep it considering the world she chose to function in.

“Yes.”

He answered her statement. Judah knew it was not a question. Mal knew him well enough to see his motivation. She had seen it with the way he stepped in to help Sonti, took her to work with his son to give her a fighting chance against those who would otherwise see her ruined because of her force sensitivity. The New Way had infiltrated too many organizations, and Judah cared because Mal cared. He cared because Judah had come to love Sonti like a daughter.

Respect was something Mal did not hand out readily. Judah had watched first hand what many attempted to earn it. Most wanted something they could use as leverage. It was human nature, and the way of criminals. There were others that simply viewed what Malcoma had to offer as a commodity that could be used for economic gain. Judah had never seen her that way. It was why they never talked about the marks each had on their body. Those came with the person.

“I do it for you and Sonti too.” It was something she already knew. “You’re as much family as JJ is.”

Judah wasn’t sure why he said it, or felt like he needed to. Maybe he was still fighting the urge to tell her how he felt without actually using the most direct method possible. The last time they were together it was a question. This time it wasn’t. Judah knew.

His eyes glanced down at the clothes Mal had set out for him, then back up to catch her gaze in the mirror. He chuckled.

“It’s not like I go looking to die.”

That had not always been the case, and was maybe still a little true. Red’s call was hard to ignore sometimes. His eyes pulled away from Mal’s for the briefest of seconds. She would miss it if she wasn’t looking for it. No, he wasn’t lying when he said it. Judah had much to live for, and was adding to those reasons. He forced himself to smile as he dressed. She was going to force him to play it safe, even with his attire.

She complained about the unfinished cigarra and the cold caf. Judah shook his head and followed her into the kitchenette. He waved at the mug with closed eyes. The elemental skills were not ones often taught anymore, but Judah was well practiced in them. All he had to do was heat the water in the caf, and it would be hot. By the time Mal was ready for another sip she would feel the mug warming in her hands.

“I won’t get the deposit back on this place if it smells like smoke when I move out. They said no smoking, and no pets.”

Judah was teasing of course, but what else would she expect. He kissed her neck as he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her once more. They were both alive and in the same room once more.

“So… what did I miss while I was recovering in that tank? Did you manage to stay out of too much trouble?”

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

"I do it for you and Sonti too. You're as much family as JJ is."

She rolled her eyes to herself. "I know that, darling. You're distressingly valiant like that." Her tone still lacked rude delivery despite the words she was said. Somehow it was warm. If she said what she had to say in any other way, she wouldn't be herself. "I was speaking metaphorically." For both of them, the concept of family—those they looked out for—extended well beyond the reach of their blood.

"It's not like I go looking to die."

Looking up from filing down her short nails, she sought to give him a look in lieu of replying. But when he looked away briefly, she asked, rhetorically again, "Don't you?" It wasn't necessarily a fault that she was pointing out. She was the same way. Martyrdom wasn't idolization of death; it was a readiness to sacrifice oneself given the right circumstance. The Jedi were nothing but mages wielding swords of plasma if they weren't prepared to lay down their lives should the moment call for it.

In the kitchenette, Judah asked to be caught up on the happening of her life. "I decided not to get involved with that freedom outfit on Cantonica." It was one of the things they had discussed on Hapes. Back then, it had just been a possibility in her search for a new direction. "That saved me some trouble, I suppose," she mused before leaning her head back on his shoulder. She let her eyelids fall closed. "And no, I will not elaborate." Though she knew that everything she said to him was off-the-record, she still wasn't comfortable discussing everything about her dealings and decisions with him. In fact, maybe by keeping certain details from him, she showed that she truly cared. "I was planning on relocating the girls to the Family estates on Epica before the invasion, but sent them to Denon instead. The Family's name still has some pull there, and, much more importantly, it's further from the Sith Order. There's still plenty of trouble to be had though. But we're getting along fine."

Judah Lesan​

 

[Judah Lesan]

LOCATION: COURUSCANT UNDERGROUND
WEARING: This | TAG: Malcoma Hesse​

“I know.”

What else was he going to say in reply to her explanation about being metaphorical? Was he supposed to tell her he was being less so? Did she know? There were questions that rolled through Judah’s mind if he let himself think about them. They seemed settled in what they were to each other, and yet Judah found himself wondering if she had come to the same conclusion he had. Were their feelings for each other the same, or were they misaligned somehow?

Judah said nothing. He simply pondered. Besides, he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. Any news was better than no news after the time he had spent recovering. Sure, that was a loaded thought considering the line of work either of them were in. Still, even the bad news was better than ignorance.

A small feigned sigh escaped his lips when she told him not to ask for any more details. Judah did not really care. The less he knew the less he had to sweep under the carpet so to speak. Being with her as he was meant overlooking things which other Jedi might not. At least he was not responsible for law and order among the seedier denizens of the galaxy. His role put him face to face with the dark side, and much too often as of late.

Whatever remaining tension he felt rolled from his shoulders as Mal leaned against him. It should have stopped surprising him how well she fit him, but the Jedi found great wonder in it every time. Maybe that was why he knew he loved her. It never got old.

“Saving some trouble… that seems like progress for you.”

Mal was not the only one who could tease.

“Though… were it not for your proficiency in finding it, we may have never met, so don’t stay completely away from it. Never know when you might need help from your favorite Jedi.”

He kissed the top of her head. It was a fond memory now, how they met, even if the circumstances of it had been less than ideal. That was how Mal knew Judah would do anything for her girls, for her. The Jedi had put his life on the line for her when he did not have to. He had not done it to “get” her in any sort of way. Sure, she became his info broker after the ordeal, but he would have done the same things even if there had been nothing to gain. Judah always saw people, not what they were or what they were supposed to be. Labels meant little to him, until they had to.

“Denon.”

There was fond softness to his voice as he named the planet.

“I adopted a girl from there once. A street urchin named Sasha. No parents, getting into trouble. She eventually left with Cambria to follow a different path. I think she even broke JJ’s heart, or he broke hers… I’m not sure which.”

Judah chuckled.

“Sonti with them?”

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

As Judah spoke of Sasha, a small smile creeped across Mal's lips. The line between sincere and sardonic was razor thin with her, but the context made it clear that this time it was the former.

"Good of you," she commented, "though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

Then the focus of their conversation shifted to Sonti. "She was. But now she's on a different path too. She made a friend." The way she enunciated the last word suggested that she didn't approve. Knowing Mal's aversion to Judah's gender in general, he might, rightfully, assume whoever this friend was to be a man. "She called a week ago from somewhere in the Outer Rim. Says she's putting JJ's training to good use."

Sonti had done well in almost every area of the training JJ had put her through, but what she had really excelled at was the healing arts. Though she still had much to learn, she was where she wanted to be now: out on the frontier, not confined to the Healing Halls of one Jedi temple or another.

"I'll have you know that I'm handling it much better than last time."

Before Sonti, the last of Mal's girls to check out of the Guesthouse was Iayn. And like the half-zabraak, Sonti hadn't left to retire from a life of crime to one all the more carefree—which was something that they all deserved, including the headmistress—but to trade it in for a chance to pay what Mal had given them forward in their own ways.

She and Judah had met on Spira what seemed like a lifetime ago to discuss how much Iayn's choices troubled her.

So much had happened to the Core since then.

"I'm still worried, for both of them," she admitted because of course she was. "But when I get too wound up, I try to remember that I will die, and that, when I do, my ambitions will not follow me to wherever it is that I'll go."

Judah Lesan​

 

[Judah Lesan]

LOCATION: COURUSCANT UNDERGROUND
WEARING: This | TAG: Malcoma Hesse​

Mal was ever cynical, even when offering a genuine compliment. Life had made her that way, and Judah could only imagine he would be the same without the guidance of the Jedi in his life. He was certainly not the traditional Jedi in the sense that most understood them to be, but the Master Shadow was one nonetheless.

Judah was happy to not think about those things for long as Malcoma answered quickly about Sonti. The news was not everything he had hoped to hear, but she seemed to be “safe.” There was something which rose up within him, a feeling he did not know how to place, when Mal used the word “friend,” in the way she had.

“Do I need to have a conversation with this new friend of hers?”

The question left Judah’s mouth before he even knew what he was saying. There were two of Mal’s girls that might as well be his daughters. Sonti was one of them, and the protectiveness of a father rose in Judah faster than he could have ever accounted for.

The conversation took a somewhat morbid turn with Mal’s final comment. Of course they were both going to die, but they rarely ever talked about Mal being the one to expire. More of their conversations on the subject matter tended around Judah not finding himself in a hurry to get to that place. She had already called him out on it once already.

“Legacy, my love, that is what you’re referring to…” he said softly as he finally let her go and padded further into the kitchenette.

Judah opened the cupboard and cold storage. Whether she was hungry or not, Judah was. The old Jedi was going to prepare some quick eggs and toast for them both. He did not keep the apartment as stocked as he would his home. This place was for hiding and emergencies.

“You are going to leave a fantastic legacy, and these girls and the galaxy are all the better for it.”

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

Mal couldn't help her smirk, amused at Judah's surge of protectiveness. "Not at all. He seems like a...pleasant...man?" The lilt to her last word didn't make it a question; it instead was a product of her hesitancy to make that compliment.

Before Judah could say anything, she added, "Please, applaud my capacity to grow." Slowly, but still.

She straightened up as he let her go. He didn't get a chance to see the second scrunch of of her brow as he walked away, for she wiped it off her face as quickly as it had come over her.

My love?

She chose not to dwell for now.

"I've tried," she mused. "My goal's not a unique one per se, but my methods certainly are." That much Judah absolutely knew. She slid onto a stool at the breakfast bar. "It's been quite hard, operating as a criminal while staying true to what I'd like to think are my good intentions."

She'd like to think? Where was her usual self-assurance?

"No one I've met has quite understood how miserable that is..." She paused and tried to meet Judah's gaze as he made them breakfast. "And then I met you."

Judah Lesan​

 

[Judah Lesan]

LOCATION: COURUSCANT UNDERGROUND
WEARING: This | TAG: Malcoma Hesse​

She was trying. Judah had to give the blonde that much. Had Sonti been that much more part of his life, Judah would be less than willing to be moveable, but if Mal was not as worried, then Judah could hold off on making the man disappear… for now.

“I am proud of you,” he said as he quietly clapped his hand.

There was a small smile which pulled at his lips. Judah was being slightly annoying and childish, but while they were both being open and serious with each other, the Master Jedi could not help to find moments for humor. Banter was their native tongue, and neither let things remain all too serious for too long. Whether it was still a defense mechanism or if they just needed to keep things light and humorous because the galaxy demanded it, Judah was still a little unsure. He liked to think it was the latter. The pair had come quite a long way together.

He could not help but feel as though his arms and hands were somewhat empty as he turned away from Mal. Even with a pan and the things he needed to make them a light breakfast filling them, they were not what he wanted to be holding. Their time together was never enough, even if Judah could say that it was always meaningful and more than satisfying. At least cooking for her was something that could also bring joy.

Judah nodded. She had done more than try. He knew that not every girl had a success story which would wow the galaxy, but Malcoma had succeeded far more than not, and more so that many others could boast.

“And for a while I made life even more miserable. I think I am still paying off the remodeling fees after that attack…” he teased as a plate was set in front of the woman. “For a while there, I think you would have rather wished I would stay away. I think we have Sonti to thank for realizing we both had something the other needed.”

Judah turned back to plate himself up the rest of the eggs and toast before sitting down. Another smile pulled at his face, though it faded ever so slightly. Maybe Mal wouldn’t notice it. He could remember many mornings with Kat like these before running off to whatever mission he had next. It was a pattern he was repeating with Mal, but she seemed to be way more understanding about who he was and what they were. Even if they still refused to label it.

They were together when they were together. That was the thing that mattered most. Judah knew who he could go home to even if home was rarely the same place. The Jedi lived on his ship more than not these days. At least he had the sense to keep places to meet Mal rather than have her move into his ship.

“At least we know our lives will never be the same ever again!”

He chuckled then took a bite of egg.

“So what now then… If the girls are on Denon… you going back, or you got something else up your sleeve?”

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

She smiled widely when he said that he was proud of her.

Sometimes he caught little glimpse like this of the woman she had been before the galaxy had broken her three times over.

Shortly after he served her, she began eating with the refined etiquette that she wielded like some rare weapon. She pointed her empty fork at him when he asked what was next. "I don't think you want to know my answer that question." So, the latter.

Judah Lesan​

 

[Judah Lesan]

LOCATION: COURUSCANT UNDERGROUND
WEARING: This | TAG: Malcoma Hesse​

“So that means you are not going…”

Judah frowned slightly at the answer, however, he learned a long time ago that Mal was going to do exactly what she wanted to do. It was the one thing about her which was more consistent than anything else. There was no telling the blonde what to do. Did that mean Judah just let things go?

“I don’t like it,” he added with a sigh.

He ate his eggs while she ate hers.

…in silence…

“There are rumors the Sith are going to strike at Woostri. I have to go.”

This was their relationship. Malcoma was always going off to take care of her girls, and Judah was running here and there saving the galaxy. The room was quiet again for a little. Judah cleaned the plates after clearing the counter. He put them away. A smile pulled at his lips.

“See… still domesticated…”

He was trying to break through the weight that he suddenly felt in the room.

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

"There are rumors the Sith are going to strike at Woostri. I have to go."

"I can come along instead if you'd like," she offered dryly. Her intent not to became even clearer when she continued. "Both the Guesthouse and Eden's Club are wrecks of what they used to be. They could be repaired but there's no point in investing in them now—even I can see that." A shadow passed over her blue eyes, shading their hue just a bit darker. She fell quiet for just a beat longer then she meant to. "Still, I have too much to lose here, darling."

What she had built on Coruscant extended well beyond the foundations of her business places.

And she wasn't ready to leave that behind, not yet.

"See… still domesticated…"

She didn't smile this time, but did quip back, "Like a very handsome nerf."

Her fingers tailed lazily along the countertop as she stood up.

Judah Lesan​

 

[Judah Lesan]

LOCATION: COURUSCANT UNDERGROUND
WEARING: This | TAG: Malcoma Hesse​

“I’m not complaining… just…”

Judah did not finish the sentence. There was no reason to. He understood Mal, and she understood him. It was the difference between his relationship with her and others which had failed in the past. He was going to go to Woostri, even if she did not want him to. She was going to stay. This was more about who they were than what they were doing.

He rounded the counter, remaining quiet as he did. Judah wrapped Mal up once more and held her.

“I know.”

What else was there to say?

“Hey… handsome is way better than scruffy… and you’re still stuck with me.”

Judah kissed her cheek and walked away.

“You wanna get out of here? I don’t look like a Jedi now and there have to be some shops close.”

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

She didn't really mind when they went their separate ways.

She missed him, of course, always anticipating their next rendezvous, but she valued her independence. Plus, she was ambitious enough herself to understand duty, whether self-imposed or dictated by one's religion, and how duty had to get in the way of...well, anything else. Other people might call that empathy. Mal would turn up her nose at that idea.

"You want to go shopping?" she asked in disbelief as she turned to him. "With me?" A playful scoff escaped her lips. "Darling, that's the only competitive sport I play." Then she gave a small but theatric sigh. "But I suppose I'll try to have fun. It'll be something for you to remember on Woostri."

Her hand reached out for his, ready to follow him out into the underworld, acutely aware that this level, or any of them, would probably never be the same.

Judah Lesan
Exit thread​