Star Wars: Quinlan Vos-- Q is for Quandary
Star Wars: Quinlan Vos -- Q is for quandary
title: Off Center
author: helgaleena
helgaleenas@yahoo.com
fandom: Star Wars, Clone Wars
medium: graphic novel
genre: angst H/C het
pairing: Quinlan Vos/ Dooku/Khaleen
rating: NC-17
theme: quandary
warnings: disturbing content, sex
disclaimer: Lucas, Ostrander, and Duursema own everything. I am nothing
summary: How in the hells can Quin continue to play in Dooku's inner circles and remain true to his Jedi code? And Khaleen simply should not be here....Based on Star Wars: Jedi--Dooku.
Dooku's entourage was back at the retreat on Ruhe, since engineering the coup on Tibrin.. The pristine forests around the mansion, despite the pleasant view they provided, struck Quinlan Vos as wrong somehow; he'd rather be looking out at the garbage piles of Raxus Prime, for sale to the highest bidder, than some idyll. Then it would match his insides better.
Thank the Force he wouldn't be undergoing any more Vaapad instruction with Sora Bulq. His new job as Separatist regent of Tibrin would occupy him, and give Quin's ribs a chance to heal. And no private lessons from Dooku himself, either. He was being allowed to gather his resources for this new assignment-- or more precisely, this 'hit'.
He should have been more alert as he entered the suite assigned to him, but he simply peeled off his tunics and let them fall, fumbled with weary fingers at the tearaway wrappings on the handful of bandages he'd grabbed on the way here, from the infirmary where they'd helpfully strapped up his chest for him. He slid down the wall to a sitting position, and the one he'd gotten unwrapped fluttered away in the scented breeze from the open window. That scent-- those fingers picking up the patch before he could--
Green eyes, full lips, long ruby-purple hair were visible through his own dark tangled locks. "Khaleen." Damn. He could not afford to be glad to see her. He wished her far away, safe--how in the hells could she be here instead of safe in Jedi custody?
"What the fark are you doing here?"
"I'm putting a bacta patch on you properly, Korto-- or should I say, Quinlan Vos--?" She applied the little square to one of his upper arm abrasions, and he let her have the rest of them, with a sigh. He could have cried in frustration. This might mean his cover was blown.
"Yeah... Tholme sent you, didn't he?" His old master. Head of covert Jedi operations. Hopefully making it look like he wanted his old padawan to come back to the Temple, instead of pledging allegiance to the Sith.
"Hey, this is way cozier than rotting in that Republic prison cell where you left me, lover." Gods. He'd said he would come for her, hadn't he? No chance of that, now.
"Well, you can just march right back and tell him I'm not interested in anything he's offering--"
"Drop the act, Quin. I looked for all of Dooku's bugs and disabled them already. Here." She let go of his arm long enough to empty them out of her pouch and into his lap, with a smug smile. Touching gesture, but really... With a flick of the Force he sent them flying in all directions. He didn't want to fiddle with them now. He met her eyes with his own black ones, sardonic over the yellow stripe.
"Great. Now we have to put them all back again, or Dooku will wonder where they went. That was not smart, Khaleen."
The green eyes turned surly, and her black-ringed lips took on their familiar pout. "Well, since they aren't working at the moment, we can at least speak plainly, I should think." One of her lacquered nails traced gently along a scrape below his collarbone, measuring it for the patch. He tried not to think about how good it felt.
"Anywhere Dooku is will never be safe enough for that. Dooku doesn't NEED the bugs. If he wants to know something, he'll just find it out anyway. You'll figure that out pretty soon, if you're around him for long. Which I'd rather you weren't."
"I know, Quin. He thinks I'm still working for him." What?? Little Khaleen, a spy all along? She finished smoothing on the patch and met his eyes. "That's what I wanted you to know; he assigned me to you years ago, didn't tell me you were a Jedi though. I always suspected he was after you for something more than just being a sneak he had to keep track of." Now she looked back at what she was doing, acting remorseful. Looked pretty genuine. But he was still rocked off balance by this, tried to piece together cues from their past interactions, signs he must have ignored--
"I guess I just didn't want to believe it, Khaleen." His voice came out a bit hoarse.
There were no more patches. Khaleen put her hands on her elbows, remained kneeling beside him, keeping her eyes on his.
Her chin lifted with its familiar adamancy. "I want you to know everything, Quinlan Vos."
Tholme must have told her about his hands, his talent for psychometry. She was actually inviting him to pick her brain, now! And it was his duty to do it. She was leaving him no way to get around it. So he placed his hands over hers, lifted her by the elbows until they were both standing. Her hands went out to slip around him, and he let himself accept it as he cupped her face, tilting it toward him, and--
Sithspawn, she was in love with him. Oh, no. Oh yes... he could just give in right now, and play her against both sides of his dilemma, use her to deceive Tholme, lull Dooku, soothe his own needs, oh hells yes... and get her killed any of a dozen ways. Her full bosom was pressed up against his ribs, nothing between them but that thin pressure strapping and he could feel it every time she took a breath, her love wrapping around him like a warm micro climate, and the smell of her--
Abruptly he wrenched himself away, grabbed at the balcony railing so hard it started to bend. "Get the fark out of here while you still can," he gritted out, eyes on the trees. "Because I can't leave."
Now she was mad. Hells, even that was lovely. "What? I though you Jedi were all about trusting your feelings!" But thank the Force she kept her distance for the moment. He turned to face her, had to make her understand this.
"Hells yeah! but a Jedi is supposed to have his feelings under control. I don't; I kriffin' don't. I got way off center here, lately... Khaleen, I've seen things, done things--" he shut his eyes, trying to force away some of those things-- "they go against everything I was taught about being a Jedi. Which is what I thought I was-- And Dooku knows it. He insists that I have to--"
He stopped, sucked a painful breath into his ribcage, tried to get hold of himself, know what the Force was about with all this. He could feel the dip in the railing that his hands had made. Better smoothe it out later. Meanwhile, Khaleen edged closer.
"Have to what? What does he want?"
He mumbled it into the railing, disgusted at himself and the whole situation. "He's told me to assassinate a senator who's been playing both sides against the middle." Hells, who didn't? may as well do himself in, for that... the irony of it escaped Khaleen though.
"So he's scum! Take him out!" She made it sound so damn simple; he had to grin a little.
"Khaleen, Jedi don't take life unless it's absolutely necessary. Jedi protect and honor life." He swallowed, hard. She still didn't get it.
"But you do what's necessary to complete a mission, don't you? And you have to do something, right?" Her hand, with its fingerless gauntlet of netting, was on his wrist-wrapping. He didn't remove it. He didn't answer either. At last, she took it away, but she only stepped even closer. Unless he vaulted backwards over the rail, he had to let her.
"Look, I'm not clever about this stuff. But you'll figure out something. And I'll try to help you. I mean it..." With his head bowed like this, his face was completely hidden by his heavy matted hair, except that she was looking at him almost straight up. He could see her, smell her, almost taste her. And she was still talking.
"Don't send me away so fast, okay? I-- Tholme wants me here. Dooku wants me here. I want to be here. Maybe it'll help you get back on your center, or whatever...whatever you need from me, Quin--"
There was a breeze out of the forest, playing against his back. What was it that Master Zao had said, about being a leaf in the wind, letting the Force move you? --hells if he knew what to do regarding the Force, but he knew what to do with this woman who wouldn't go away.
He quit fighting her. He let her wrap herself around him while he devoured her mouth, her cheeks, applied her to himself like an unguent., drank her down like a potion, consumed her like the starved animal he was.
Later he would just have to figure something out.
link to part 2
http://community.livejournal.com/swfanfic/58006.html
title: Off Center
author: helgaleena
helgaleenas@yahoo.com
fandom: Star Wars, Clone Wars
medium: graphic novel
genre: angst H/C het
pairing: Quinlan Vos/ Dooku/Khaleen
rating: NC-17
theme: quandary
warnings: disturbing content, sex
disclaimer: Lucas, Ostrander, and Duursema own everything. I am nothing
summary: How in the hells can Quin continue to play in Dooku's inner circles and remain true to his Jedi code? And Khaleen simply should not be here....Based on Star Wars: Jedi--Dooku.
Dooku's entourage was back at the retreat on Ruhe, since engineering the coup on Tibrin.. The pristine forests around the mansion, despite the pleasant view they provided, struck Quinlan Vos as wrong somehow; he'd rather be looking out at the garbage piles of Raxus Prime, for sale to the highest bidder, than some idyll. Then it would match his insides better.
Thank the Force he wouldn't be undergoing any more Vaapad instruction with Sora Bulq. His new job as Separatist regent of Tibrin would occupy him, and give Quin's ribs a chance to heal. And no private lessons from Dooku himself, either. He was being allowed to gather his resources for this new assignment-- or more precisely, this 'hit'.
He should have been more alert as he entered the suite assigned to him, but he simply peeled off his tunics and let them fall, fumbled with weary fingers at the tearaway wrappings on the handful of bandages he'd grabbed on the way here, from the infirmary where they'd helpfully strapped up his chest for him. He slid down the wall to a sitting position, and the one he'd gotten unwrapped fluttered away in the scented breeze from the open window. That scent-- those fingers picking up the patch before he could--
Green eyes, full lips, long ruby-purple hair were visible through his own dark tangled locks. "Khaleen." Damn. He could not afford to be glad to see her. He wished her far away, safe--how in the hells could she be here instead of safe in Jedi custody?
"What the fark are you doing here?"
"I'm putting a bacta patch on you properly, Korto-- or should I say, Quinlan Vos--?" She applied the little square to one of his upper arm abrasions, and he let her have the rest of them, with a sigh. He could have cried in frustration. This might mean his cover was blown.
"Yeah... Tholme sent you, didn't he?" His old master. Head of covert Jedi operations. Hopefully making it look like he wanted his old padawan to come back to the Temple, instead of pledging allegiance to the Sith.
"Hey, this is way cozier than rotting in that Republic prison cell where you left me, lover." Gods. He'd said he would come for her, hadn't he? No chance of that, now.
"Well, you can just march right back and tell him I'm not interested in anything he's offering--"
"Drop the act, Quin. I looked for all of Dooku's bugs and disabled them already. Here." She let go of his arm long enough to empty them out of her pouch and into his lap, with a smug smile. Touching gesture, but really... With a flick of the Force he sent them flying in all directions. He didn't want to fiddle with them now. He met her eyes with his own black ones, sardonic over the yellow stripe.
"Great. Now we have to put them all back again, or Dooku will wonder where they went. That was not smart, Khaleen."
The green eyes turned surly, and her black-ringed lips took on their familiar pout. "Well, since they aren't working at the moment, we can at least speak plainly, I should think." One of her lacquered nails traced gently along a scrape below his collarbone, measuring it for the patch. He tried not to think about how good it felt.
"Anywhere Dooku is will never be safe enough for that. Dooku doesn't NEED the bugs. If he wants to know something, he'll just find it out anyway. You'll figure that out pretty soon, if you're around him for long. Which I'd rather you weren't."
"I know, Quin. He thinks I'm still working for him." What?? Little Khaleen, a spy all along? She finished smoothing on the patch and met his eyes. "That's what I wanted you to know; he assigned me to you years ago, didn't tell me you were a Jedi though. I always suspected he was after you for something more than just being a sneak he had to keep track of." Now she looked back at what she was doing, acting remorseful. Looked pretty genuine. But he was still rocked off balance by this, tried to piece together cues from their past interactions, signs he must have ignored--
"I guess I just didn't want to believe it, Khaleen." His voice came out a bit hoarse.
There were no more patches. Khaleen put her hands on her elbows, remained kneeling beside him, keeping her eyes on his.
Her chin lifted with its familiar adamancy. "I want you to know everything, Quinlan Vos."
Tholme must have told her about his hands, his talent for psychometry. She was actually inviting him to pick her brain, now! And it was his duty to do it. She was leaving him no way to get around it. So he placed his hands over hers, lifted her by the elbows until they were both standing. Her hands went out to slip around him, and he let himself accept it as he cupped her face, tilting it toward him, and--
Sithspawn, she was in love with him. Oh, no. Oh yes... he could just give in right now, and play her against both sides of his dilemma, use her to deceive Tholme, lull Dooku, soothe his own needs, oh hells yes... and get her killed any of a dozen ways. Her full bosom was pressed up against his ribs, nothing between them but that thin pressure strapping and he could feel it every time she took a breath, her love wrapping around him like a warm micro climate, and the smell of her--
Abruptly he wrenched himself away, grabbed at the balcony railing so hard it started to bend. "Get the fark out of here while you still can," he gritted out, eyes on the trees. "Because I can't leave."
Now she was mad. Hells, even that was lovely. "What? I though you Jedi were all about trusting your feelings!" But thank the Force she kept her distance for the moment. He turned to face her, had to make her understand this.
"Hells yeah! but a Jedi is supposed to have his feelings under control. I don't; I kriffin' don't. I got way off center here, lately... Khaleen, I've seen things, done things--" he shut his eyes, trying to force away some of those things-- "they go against everything I was taught about being a Jedi. Which is what I thought I was-- And Dooku knows it. He insists that I have to--"
He stopped, sucked a painful breath into his ribcage, tried to get hold of himself, know what the Force was about with all this. He could feel the dip in the railing that his hands had made. Better smoothe it out later. Meanwhile, Khaleen edged closer.
"Have to what? What does he want?"
He mumbled it into the railing, disgusted at himself and the whole situation. "He's told me to assassinate a senator who's been playing both sides against the middle." Hells, who didn't? may as well do himself in, for that... the irony of it escaped Khaleen though.
"So he's scum! Take him out!" She made it sound so damn simple; he had to grin a little.
"Khaleen, Jedi don't take life unless it's absolutely necessary. Jedi protect and honor life." He swallowed, hard. She still didn't get it.
"But you do what's necessary to complete a mission, don't you? And you have to do something, right?" Her hand, with its fingerless gauntlet of netting, was on his wrist-wrapping. He didn't remove it. He didn't answer either. At last, she took it away, but she only stepped even closer. Unless he vaulted backwards over the rail, he had to let her.
"Look, I'm not clever about this stuff. But you'll figure out something. And I'll try to help you. I mean it..." With his head bowed like this, his face was completely hidden by his heavy matted hair, except that she was looking at him almost straight up. He could see her, smell her, almost taste her. And she was still talking.
"Don't send me away so fast, okay? I-- Tholme wants me here. Dooku wants me here. I want to be here. Maybe it'll help you get back on your center, or whatever...whatever you need from me, Quin--"
There was a breeze out of the forest, playing against his back. What was it that Master Zao had said, about being a leaf in the wind, letting the Force move you? --hells if he knew what to do regarding the Force, but he knew what to do with this woman who wouldn't go away.
He quit fighting her. He let her wrap herself around him while he devoured her mouth, her cheeks, applied her to himself like an unguent., drank her down like a potion, consumed her like the starved animal he was.
Later he would just have to figure something out.
link to part 2
http://community.livejournal.com/swfanfic/58006.html